{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56887/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56887","id":"gutenberg_56887","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56887","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's literature","Mythology, Classical -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"E-text prepared for EMMY by MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading\nTeam (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by\nthe Google Books Library Project (https://books.google.com)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n file which includes the original illustrations.\n See 56887-h.htm or 56887-h.zip:\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/56887/pg56887-images.html)\n or\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/56887/56887-h.zip)\n\n\n Images of the original pages are available through\n the Google Books Library Project. See\n https://books.google.com/books?id=FyA3AQAAMAAJ&hl=en\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE JUNIOR CLASSICS, VOLUME 3: TALES FROM GREECE AND ROME\n\n\n[Illustration:\n\n _Junior\n Classics_\n\n THE\u00b7YOUNG\u00b7FOLKS\u2019\n SHELF\u00b7OF\u00b7BOOKS\n\n _P\u00b7F\u00b7Collier\u00b7&\u00b7Son Corporation_\n _New York_]\n\n\n[Illustration: THE WINE WAS MINGLED WITH THE MOST POTENT\nENCHANTMENTS\u2014page 347\n\n_From the painting by Maxfield Parrish_]\n\n\nTHE JUNIOR CLASSICS\n\nSelected and Arranged by\nWILLIAM PATTEN\nManaging Editor of the Harvard Classics\n\nIntroduction by\nCHARLES W. ELIOT, LL. D.\nPresident Emeritus of Harvard University\n\nWith a Reading Guide by\nWILLIAM ALLAN NEILSON, Ph. D.\nProfessor of English, Harvard University\nPresident Smith College, Northampton, Mass., Since 1917\n\nVOLUME THREE\n\nTales from Greece and Rome\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nP. F. Collier & Son Corporation\nNew York\n\nCopyright, 1912\nBy P. F. Collier & Son\n\nCopyright, 1918\nBy P. F. Collier & Son\n\nAcknowledgments of permission given by authors and\npublishers for the use of copyright material\nappear in Volume 10\n\nManufactured in U. S. A.\n\nTC\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n PAGE\n\n PREFACE 9\n\n TABLE OF LATIN AND GREEK GODS 12\n\n OLD GREEK TALES\n\n How Theseus Slays the Minotaur _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 15\n Pegasus, the Winged Horse _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 51\n The Heroes Sail Away in Search of the\n Golden Fleece _Charles Kingsley_ 80\n How Jason Lost His Sandal _Charles Kingsley_ 88\n How They Built the Ship _Argo_ _Charles Kingsley_ 98\n How the Argonauts Sailed to Colchis _Charles Kingsley_ 102\n Hunting the Calydonian Boar _Elsie F. Buckley_ 128\n The Winning of Atalanta _Elsie F. Buckley_ 148\n Turning Everything into Gold _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 172\n The Pomegranate Seeds _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 193\n\n TALES OF THE TROJAN WAR\u2014From Homer\n\n The Trojan War _Thomas Bulfinch_ 237\n The Quarrel of the Chiefs _Alfred J. Church_ 240\n The Fight Between Paris and Menelaus _Alfred J. Church_ 251\n The Duel Between Hector and Ajax _Alfred J. Church_ 257\n The Deeds and Death of Patroclus _Alfred J. Church_ 265\n The Death of Hector _Alfred J. Church_ 272\n The Ransoming of Hector _Alfred J. Church_ 283\n The Wooden Horse _Grace Bigelow Patten_ 295\n\n THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE OF THE GREEK HERO, ULYSSES\u2014From Homer\n\n The Lotus-Eaters _Sir George W. Cox_ 301\n Ulysses and the Cyclops _Sir George W. Cox_ 305\n Circe\u2019s Palace _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 315\n Ulysses and the Sirens _Sir George W. Cox_ 353\n Nausicaa Rescues Ulysses _Alfred J. Church_ 357\n Ulysses and the Swineherd _Alfred J. Church_ 368\n The Return of Telemachus _Alfred J. Church_ 373\n Ulysses in His Home _Alfred J. Church_ 377\n The Trial of the Bow _Alfred J. Church_ 384\n The Vengeance of Ulysses _Alfred J. Church_ 389\n\n THE WANDERINGS OF \u00c6NEAS\u2014From Virgil\n\n The Remnant of the Defeated Army _Thomas Bulfinch and\n Seeks a New Home Alfred J. Church_ 397\n The Adventure with the Harpies _H. L. Havell_ 403\n Pursued by the Cyclops _H. L. Havell_ 406\n Venus Sends \u00c6neas to Queen Dido _Alfred J. Church_ 412\n Queen Dido Welcomes \u00c6neas _Alfred J. Church_ 418\n The Love and Death of Queen Dido _Alfred J. Church_ 425\n The Race of the Four Galleys _H. L. Havell_ 437\n The Foot Race _H. L. Havell_ 443\n The Boxing Match _H. L. Havell_ 445\n The Contest of the Archers _H. L. Havell_ 448\n The Sibyl Speaks to \u00c6neas _Alfred J. Church_ 450\n The Dwellings of the Dead _Alfred J. Church_ 455\n The Oracle Foretells the Coming of \u00c6neas _H. L. Havell_ 467\n \u00c6neas and His Companions Eat Their Tables _H. L. Havell_ 469\n The Fight Between \u00c6neas and Turnus _H. L. Havell_ 473\n The Death of Turnus _H. L. Havell_ 480\n\n STORIES FROM ROMAN HISTORY\u2014From Livy\n\n The Story of Romulus and of Numa _Alfred J. Church_ 489\n The Story of Alba _Alfred J. Church_ 500\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n THE WINE WAS MINGLED WITH THE MOST POTENT ENCHANTMENTS\n\n Circe\u2019s Palace\n\n _Frontispiece illustration in color from the painting\n by Maxfield Parrish_\n\n\n THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE\n\n The Heroes Sail Away in Search of the Golden Fleece\n\n _From the painting by Maxfield Parrish_\n\n\n ON THE BANK OF ANAUROS SAT A WOMAN, ALL WRINKLED, GRAY, AND OLD\n\n How Jason Lost His Sandal\n\n _From the painting by T. H. Robinson_\n\n\n JASON AND THE TALKING OAK\n\n How They Built the Ship Argo\n\n _From the painting by Maxfield Parrish_\n\n\n CHIRON, THE CENTAUR\n\n How the Argonauts Sailed to Colchis\n\n _From the painting by Maxfield Parrish_\n\n\n PARIS CARRIED HER TO TROY\n\n The Trojan War\n\n _From the painting by R. von Deutsch_\n\n\n THEN AUTOMEDON YOKED THE HORSES TO THE CHARIOT\n\n The Deeds and Death of Patroclus\n\n _From the painting by H. Regnault_\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nHomer, that king of story-tellers, traveller and well-loved school\nteacher, is supposed to have lived in Greece about three thousand years\nago.\n\nTrained story-tellers or bards, with extraordinary memories, were not\nrare in that simple age. Many argue that writing for literary purposes\nwas not used by the Greeks at that time, and that Homer recited his tales\nto groups of friends, to his school children, and at the great yearly\nfestivals. It is amazing what memories people had in the days when there\nwere no books, when there were not a thousand and one things to distract\nthem; yet we have proof that such memories are possible in our time.\nAbout fifty years ago, poor, uneducated Blind Jamie was a well-known\ncharacter in the town of Stirling, in Scotland. He could recite the Bible\nfrom beginning to end, without mistake, and could even repeat any verse\nfrom any part of the Bible.\n\nFrom the mass of old folk tales that he gathered on his travels, Homer,\nthe inspired minstrel, wove one continuous story, the greatest epic\npoems of all time, The Iliad and The Odyssey. Later, one of the Greek\nchroniclers tells us, Pisistratus edited them with taste and care, \u201cin\nthe order in which we have them.\u201d\n\nAlthough the world we visit in Homer\u2019s pages is a Greek world, it is\nsingularly like our own in many respects. His men and women face the same\nproblems of war and peace, of triumph and defeat, of pleasure and pain,\nas we do. His soldiers and sailors in the spirit-stirring war might be\nmen of to-day. And best of all, he makes us see, feel, hope, fear, laugh\nand cry through these marvellous pages, over which, for hundreds of\nyears, boys and girls of all countries have lingered, entranced.\n\nThe Iliad is the account of the Trojan War. The Odyssey tells of the\nGrecian hero, Ulysses, and of his years of wandering and adventure, after\nthe fall of Troy, before he finally reaches his home and wife and son, in\nIthaca.\n\nLater, Virgil, greatest of Roman poets, in his desire to do for the\nLatin nation what Homer did for the Greeks, wrote the \u00c6neid. In this he\ndescribes the adventures of the Trojan hero, \u00c6neas. As you will see, his\nbook is modelled after Homer\u2019s, even in small details.\n\nHomer and Sir Thomas Malory may be said to have each performed for his\nnative country a somewhat similar task, each, of course, in his own way.\nEach retold the current folk tales in such a superior manner that his\nbecame the accepted version, to the practical exclusion of all others,\nand it is thus in a very real sense that we are indebted to Homer for\nUlysses and to Malory for King Arthur.\n\nThe old Greek tales at the beginning of the book are from Ovid (43 B.\nC.), Apollodorus (140 B. C.) and Pindar (522 B. C.), and they have been\nretold in delightful fashion by Nathaniel Hawthorne, Charles Kingsley and\nMiss Buckley.\n\nAs the stories from Homer and Virgil, in the versions here given, can\nonly be looked upon as introductory to more extended reading, and are,\nconsequently, something with which scholarship can have little if any\nquarrel, it has seemed desirable to make them as simple and clear as\npossible. For this reason the Latin names for the gods and goddesses of\nthe Greek mythology have been used throughout. These names have been\nhanded down to us in the works of Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, and many\nothers, and usage has made them familiar. Jupiter, Juno, Mars, Diana and\nNeptune, are old friends whose attributes are recognized at once, while\nto many the Grecian Zeus, Hera, Ares, Artemis and Poseidon are strangers\nwhose names might have to be looked up in the classical dictionary. With\nthe exception of a word here and there, there has been no editing of the\nstories, but occasional passages that delayed the movement of a story\nhave been omitted.\n\n WILLIAM PATTEN.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRINCIPAL GODS AND GODDESSES MENTIONED IN THESE PAGES WITH THEIR\nLATIN AND GREEK NAMES\n\n\n _Latin_ _Greek_\n CYBELE The Great Mother of the Gods, Mother RHEA\n of Jupiter and Juno.\n\n SATURN Father of Jupiter (the greatest Olympian CRONUS\n God), of Pluto, and of Neptune. The\n world was divided between the three\n brothers; Pluto was given the lower world,\n Neptune the sea, and Jupiter the heavens\n and upper regions of the air.\n\n PLUTO Son of Saturn and Cybele, king of the A\u00cfDONEUS\n lower world. Metals and all the OR HADES\n productions of the earth are his gifts.\n\n PROSERPINA Daughter of Jupiter and Ceres, wife of PERSEPHONE\n Pluto and queen of the lower world.\n\n\nTHE TWELVE OLYMPIAN GODS\n\n JUPITER The greatest of all, king of heaven. ZEUS\n\n JUNO Wife of Jupiter and queen of heaven, HERA\n goddess of love, marriage, and births.\n\n MARS Son of Jupiter and Juno, god of war. ARES\n\n VULCAN Son of Jupiter and Juno, god of fire. HEPHAESTUS\n\n MERCURY Son of Jupiter and Maia (daughter of HERMES\n Atlas), the messenger of the gods.\n\n NEPTUNE Son of Saturn and Cybele, god of the sea. POSEIDON\n\n MINERVA Daughter of Jupiter and Metis, protectress ATHENE\n of the state, and of all useful arts. A\n friend of the Greeks in the Trojan War.\n\n DIANA Daughter of Jupiter and Latona, sister ARTEMIS\n of Apollo, generally represented as a\n huntress.\n\n APOLLO Twin brother of Diana, god of prophecy, APOLLO\n of song and music; the god who gives help\n and turns away evil.\n\n VESTA Daughter of Saturn and Rhea, goddess of HESTIA\n the hearth.\n\n CERES Daughter of Saturn and Rhea, goddess DEMETER\n of the earth.\n\n VENUS Daughter of Jupiter and Di\u00f6ne, though APHRODITE\n some say she sprang from the foam of\n the sea; the goddess of love.\n\n\n\n\nOLD GREEK TALES\n\n\n\n\nHOW THESEUS SLAYS THE MINOTAUR\n\nBy Nathaniel Hawthorne\n\n\nIn the old city of Tr\u0153zene, at the foot of a lofty mountain, there lived,\na very long time ago, a little boy named Theseus. His grandfather, King\nPittheus, was the sovereign of that country, and was reckoned a very wise\nman; so that Theseus, being brought up in the royal palace, and being\nnaturally a bright lad, could hardly fail of profiting by the old king\u2019s\ninstructions. His mother\u2019s name was \u00c6thra. As for his father, the boy\nhad never seen him. But, from his earliest remembrance, \u00c6thra used to go\nwith little Theseus into a wood, and sit down upon a moss-grown rock,\nwhich was deeply sunken into the earth. Here she often talked with her\nson about his father, and said that he was called \u00c6geus, and that he was\na great king, and ruled over Attica, and dwelt at Athens, which was as\nfamous a city as any in the world. Theseus was very fond of hearing about\nKing \u00c6geus, and often asked his good mother \u00c6thra why he did not come and\nlive with them at Tr\u0153zene.\n\n\u201cAh, my dear son,\u201d answered \u00c6thra, with a sigh, \u201ca monarch has his people\nto take care of. The men and women over whom he rules are in the place of\nchildren to him; and he can seldom spare time to love his own children as\nother parents do. Your father will never be able to leave his kingdom\nfor the sake of seeing his little boy.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, but, dear mother,\u201d asked the boy, \u201cwhy cannot I go to this famous\ncity of Athens, and tell King \u00c6geus that I am his son?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat may happen by-and-by,\u201d said \u00c6thra. \u201cBe patient, and we shall see.\nYou are not yet big and strong enough to set out on such an errand.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how soon shall I be strong enough?\u201d Theseus persisted in inquiring.\n\n\u201cYou are but a tiny boy as yet,\u201d replied his mother. \u201cSee if you can lift\nthis rock on which we are sitting.\u201d\n\nThe little fellow had a great opinion of his own strength. So, grasping\nthe rough protuberances of the rock, he tugged and toiled amain, and got\nhimself quite out of breath, without being able to stir the heavy stone.\nIt seemed to be rooted into the ground. No wonder he could not move it;\nfor it would have taken all the force of a very strong man to lift it out\nof its earthy bed.\n\nHis mother stood looking on, with a sad kind of a smile on her lips and\nin her eyes, to see the zealous and yet puny efforts of her little boy.\nShe could not help being sorrowful at finding him already so impatient to\nbegin his adventures in the world.\n\n\u201cYou see how it is, my dear Theseus,\u201d said she, \u201cyou must possess far\nmore strength than now before I can trust you to go to Athens, and tell\nKing \u00c6geus that you are his son. But when you can lift this rock, and\nshow me what is hidden beneath it, I promise you my permission to depart.\u201d\n\nOften and often, after this, did Theseus ask his mother, whether it was\nyet time for him to go to Athens; and still his mother pointed to the\nrock, and told him that, for years to come, he could not be strong enough\nto move it. And again and again the rosy-cheeked and curly-headed boy\nwould tug and strain at the huge mass of stone, striving, child as he\nwas, to do what a giant could hardly have done without taking both of his\ngreat hands to the task. Meanwhile the rock seemed to be sinking farther\nand farther into the ground. The moss grew over it thicker and thicker,\nuntil at last it looked almost like a soft green seat, with only a few\ngray knobs of granite peeping out. The overhanging trees, also, shed\ntheir brown leaves upon it, as often as the autumn came; and at its base\ngrew ferns and wild flowers, some of which crept quite over its surface.\nTo all appearance, the rock was as firmly fastened as any other portion\nof the earth\u2019s substance.\n\nBut, difficult as the matter looked, Theseus was now growing up to be\nsuch a vigorous youth, that, in his own opinion, the time would quickly\ncome when he might hope to get the upper hand of this ponderous lump of\nstone.\n\n\u201cMother, I do believe it has started!\u201d cried he, after one of his\nattempts. \u201cThe earth around it is certainly a little cracked!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no, child!\u201d his mother hastily answered. \u201cIt is not possible you can\nhave moved it, such a boy as you still are.\u201d\n\nNor would she be convinced, although Theseus showed her the place where\nhe fancied that the stem of a flower had been partly uprooted by the\nmovement of the rock. But \u00c6thra sighed and looked disquieted; for, no\ndoubt, she began to be conscious that her son was no longer a child, and\nthat, in a little while hence, she must send him forth among the perils\nand troubles of the world.\n\nIt was not more than a year afterwards when they were again sitting on\nthe moss-covered stone. \u00c6thra had once more told him the oft-repeated\nstory of his father, and how gladly he would receive Theseus at his\nstately palace, and how he would present him to his courtiers and the\npeople, and tell them that here was the heir of his dominions. The eyes\nof Theseus glowed with enthusiasm, and he would hardly sit still to hear\nhis mother speak.\n\n\u201cDear mother \u00c6thra,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cI never felt half so strong as now! I\nam no longer a child, nor a boy, nor a mere youth! I feel myself a man!\nIt is now time to make one earnest trial to remove the stone.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, my dearest Theseus,\u201d replied his mother, \u201cnot yet! not yet!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, mother,\u201d said he, resolutely, \u201cthe time has come!\u201d\n\nThen Theseus bent himself in good earnest to the task, and strained\nevery sinew, with manly strength and resolution. He put his whole brave\nheart into the effort. He wrestled with the big and sluggish stone, as\nif it had been a living enemy. He heaved, he lifted, he resolved now\nto succeed, or else to perish there, and let the rock be his monument\nfor ever! \u00c6thra stood gazing at him, and clasped her hands, partly with\na mother\u2019s pride, and partly with a mother\u2019s sorrow. The great rock\nstirred! Yes, it was raised slowly from the bedded moss and earth,\nuprooting the shrubs and flowers along with it, and was turned upon its\nside. Theseus had conquered!\n\nWhile taking breath, he looked joyfully at his mother, and she smiled\nupon him through her tears.\n\n\u201cYes, Theseus,\u201d she said, \u201cthe time has come, and you must stay no longer\nat my side! See what King \u00c6geus, your royal father, left for you, beneath\nthe stone, when he lifted it in his mighty arms, and laid it on the spot\nwhence you have now removed it.\u201d\n\nTheseus looked, and saw that the rock had been placed over another slab\nof stone, containing a cavity within it; so that it somewhat resembled a\nroughly-made chest or coffer, of which the upper mass had served as the\nlid. Within the cavity lay a sword, with a golden hilt, and a pair of\nsandals.\n\n\u201cThat was your father\u2019s sword,\u201d said \u00c6thra, \u201cand those were his sandals.\nWhen he went to be King of Athens, he bade me treat you as a child until\nyou should prove yourself a man by lifting this heavy stone. That task\nbeing accomplished, you are to put on his sandals, in order to follow in\nyour father\u2019s footsteps, and to gird on his sword, so that you may fight\ngiants and dragons, as King \u00c6geus did in his youth.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will set out for Athens this very day!\u201d cried Theseus.\n\nBut his mother persuaded him to stay a day or two longer, while she got\nready some necessary articles for his journey. When his grandfather,\nthe wise King Pittheus, heard that Theseus intended to present himself\nat his father\u2019s palace, he earnestly advised him to get on board of a\nvessel, and go by sea; because he might thus arrive within fifteen miles\nof Athens, without either fatigue or danger.\n\n\u201cThe roads are very bad by land,\u201d quoth the venerable king; \u201cand they are\nterribly infested with robbers and monsters. A mere lad, like Theseus, is\nnot fit to be trusted on such a perilous journey, all by himself. No, no;\nlet him go by sea!\u201d\n\nBut when Theseus heard of robbers and monsters, he pricked up his ears,\nand was so much the more eager to take the road along which they were to\nbe met with. On the third day, therefore, he bade a respectful farewell\nto his grandfather, thanking him for all his kindness, and, after\naffectionately embracing his mother, he set forth, with a good many of\nher tears glistening on his cheeks, and some, if the truth must be told,\nthat had gushed out of his own eyes. But he let the sun and wind dry\nthem, and walked stoutly on, playing with the golden hilt of his sword,\nand taking very manly strides in his father\u2019s sandals.\n\nI cannot stop to tell you hardly any of the adventures that befell\nTheseus on the road to Athens. It is enough to say, that he quite cleared\nthat part of the country of the robbers, about whom King Pittheus had\nbeen so much alarmed. One of these bad people was named Procrustes; and\nhe was indeed a terrible fellow, and had an ugly way of making fun of the\npoor travellers who happened to fall into his clutches. In his cavern he\nhad a bed, on which, with great pretence of hospitality, he invited his\nguests to lie down; but if they happened to be shorter than the bed, this\nwicked villain stretched them out by main force; or, if they were too\ntall, he lopped off their heads or feet, and laughed at what he had done,\nas an excellent joke. Thus, however weary a man might be, he never liked\nto lie in the bed of Procrustes. Another of these robbers, named Scinis,\nmust likewise have been a very great scoundrel. He was in the habit of\nflinging his victims off a high cliff into the sea; and, in order to give\nhim exactly his deserts, Theseus tossed him off the very same place. But,\nif you will believe me, the sea would not pollute itself by receiving\nsuch a bad person into its bosom; neither would the earth, having once\ngot rid of him, consent to take him back; so that, between the cliff\nand the sea, Scinis stuck fast in the air, which was forced to bear the\nburden of his naughtiness.\n\nAfter these memorable deeds, Theseus heard of an enormous sow, which ran\nwild, and was the terror of all the farmers round about; and, as he did\nnot consider himself above doing any good thing that came in his way, he\nkilled this monstrous creature, and gave the carcass to the poor people\nfor bacon. The great sow had been an awful beast, while ramping about\nthe woods and fields, but was a pleasant object enough when cut up into\njoints, and smoking on I know not how many dinner tables.\n\nThus, by the time he reached his journey\u2019s end Theseus had done many\nvaliant feats with his father\u2019s golden-hilted sword, and had gained\nthe renown of being one of the bravest young men of the day. His fame\ntravelled faster than he did, and reached Athens before him. As he\nentered the city, he heard the inhabitants talking at the street comers\nand saying that Hercules was brave, and Jason too, and Castor and Pollux\nlikewise, but that Theseus, the son of their own king, would turn out as\ngreat a hero as the best of them. Theseus took longer strides on hearing\nthis, and fancied himself sure of a magnificent reception at his father\u2019s\ncourt, since he came thither with Fame to blow her trumpet before him,\nand cry to King \u00c6geus, \u201cBehold your son!\u201d\n\nHe little suspected, innocent youth that he was, that here in this very\nAthens, where his father reigned, a greater danger awaited him than any\nwhich he had encountered on the road. Yet this was the truth. You must\nunderstand that the father of Theseus, though not very old in years,\nwas almost worn out with the cares of government, and had thus grown\naged before his time. His nephews, not expecting him to live a very\ngreat while, intended to get all the power of the kingdom into their\nown hands. But when they heard that Theseus had arrived in Athens, and\nlearned what a gallant young man he was, they saw that he would not be\nat all the kind of person to let them steal away his father\u2019s crown and\nscepter, which ought to be his own by right of inheritance. Thus these\nbad-hearted nephews of King \u00c6geus, who were the own cousins of Theseus,\nat once became his enemies. A still more dangerous enemy was Medea, the\nwicked enchantress; for she was now the king\u2019s wife, and wanted to give\nthe kingdom to her son Medus, instead of letting it be given to the son\nof \u00c6thra, whom she hated.\n\nIt so happened that the king\u2019s nephews met Theseus, and found out who\nhe was, just as he reached the entrance of the royal palace. With all\ntheir evil designs against him, they pretended to be their cousin\u2019s best\nfriends and expressed great joy at making his acquaintance. They proposed\nto him that he should come into the king\u2019s presence as a stranger, in\norder to try whether \u00c6geus would discover in the young man\u2019s features any\nlikeness either to himself or his mother \u00c6thra, and thus recognize him\nfor a son. Theseus consented; for he fancied that his father would know\nhim in a moment, by the love that was in his heart. But, while he waited\nat the door, the nephews ran and told King \u00c6geus that a young man had\narrived in Athens, who, to their certain knowledge intended to put him to\ndeath, and get possession of his royal crown.\n\n\u201cAnd he is now waiting for admission to your majesty\u2019s presence,\u201d added\nthey.\n\n\u201cAha!\u201d cried the old king, on hearing this. \u201cWhy, he must be a very\nwicked young fellow indeed! Pray, what would you advise me to do with\nhim?\u201d\n\nIn reply to this question, the wicked Medea put in her word. As I have\nalready told you, she was a famous enchantress. According to some\nstories, she was in the habit of boiling old people in a large caldron,\nunder pretence of making them young again; but King \u00c6geus, I suppose,\ndid not fancy such an uncomfortable way of growing young, or perhaps was\ncontented to be old, and therefore would never let himself be popped into\nthe caldron. If there were time to spare from more important matters,\nI should be glad to tell you of Medea\u2019s fiery chariot, drawn by winged\ndragons, in which the enchantress used often to take an airing among the\nclouds. This chariot, in fact, was the vehicle that first brought her to\nAthens, where she had done nothing but mischief ever since her arrival.\nBut these and many other wonders must be left untold; and it is enough to\nsay that Medea, amongst a thousand other bad things, knew how to prepare\na poison that was instantly fatal to whomsoever might so much as touch it\nwith his lips.\n\nSo when the king asked what he should do with Theseus, this naughty woman\nhad an answer ready at her tongue\u2019s end.\n\n\u201cLeave that to me, please your majesty,\u201d she replied. \u201cOnly admit this\nevil-minded young man to your presence, treat him civilly, and invite him\nto drink a goblet of wine. Your majesty is well aware that I sometimes\namuse myself with distilling very powerful medicines. Here is one of them\nin this small phial. As to what it is made of, that is one of my secrets\nof state. Do but let me put a single drop into the goblet and let the\nyoung man taste it, and I shall answer for it, he shall quite lay aside\nthe bad designs with which he comes hither.\u201d\n\nAs she said this, Medea smiled; but, for all her smiling face, she\nmeant nothing less than to poison the poor innocent Theseus, before\nhis father\u2019s eyes. And King \u00c6geus, like most other kings, thought any\npunishment mild enough for a person who was accused of plotting against\nhis life. He therefore made little or no objection to Medea\u2019s scheme,\nand as soon as the poisonous wine was ready, gave orders that the young\nstranger should be admitted into his presence. The goblet was set on a\ntable beside the king\u2019s throne; and a fly, meaning just to sip a little\nfrom the brim, immediately tumbled into it, dead. Observing this, Medea\nlooked round at the nephews and smiled again.\n\nWhen Theseus was ushered into the royal apartment, the only object\nthat he seemed to behold was the white-bearded old king. There he sat\non his magnificent throne, a dazzling crown on his head, and a scepter\nin his hand. His aspect was stately and majestic, although his years\nand infirmities weighed heavily upon him, as if each year were a lump\nof lead, and each infirmity a ponderous stone, and all were bundled up\ntogether, and laid upon his weary shoulders. The tears both of joy and\nsorrow sprang into the young man\u2019s eyes; for he thought how sad it was to\nsee his dear father so infirm, and how sweet it would be to support him\nwith his own youthful strength, and to cheer him up with the alacrity of\nhis loving spirit. When a son takes his father into his warm heart, it\nrenews the old man\u2019s youth in a better way than by the heat of Medea\u2019s\nmagic caldron. And this was what Theseus resolved to do. He could\nscarcely wait to see whether King \u00c6geus would recognize him, so eager was\nhe to throw himself into his arms.\n\nAdvancing to the foot of the throne, he attempted to make a little\nspeech, which he had been thinking about, as he came up the stairs.\nBut he was almost choked by a great many tender feelings that gushed\nout of his heart and swelled into his throat, all struggling to find\nutterance together. And therefore, unless he could have laid his full,\nover-brimming heart into the king\u2019s hand, poor Theseus knew not what to\ndo or say. The cunning Medea observed what was passing in the young man\u2019s\nmind. She was more wicked at that moment than ever she had been before;\nfor (and it makes me tremble to tell you of it) she did her worst to turn\nall this unspeakable love with which Theseus was agitated, to his own\nruin and destruction.\n\n\u201cDoes your majesty see his confusion?\u201d she whispered in the king\u2019s ear.\n\u201cHe is so conscious of guilt, that he trembles and cannot speak. The\nwretch lives too long! Quick! offer him the wine!\u201d\n\nNow King \u00c6geus had been gazing earnestly at the young stranger, as he\ndrew near the throne. There was something, he knew not what, either\nin his white brow, or in the fine expression of his mouth, or in his\nbeautiful and tender eyes, that made him indistinctly feel as if he had\nseen this youth before; as if, indeed, he had trotted him on his knee\nwhen a baby, and had beheld him growing to be a stalwart man, while he\nhimself grew old. But Medea guessed how the king felt, and would not\nsuffer him to yield to these natural sensibilities; although they were\nthe voice of his deepest heart, telling him, as plainly as it could\nspeak, that here was our dear son, and \u00c6thra\u2019s son, coming to claim him\nfor a father. The enchantress again whispered in the king\u2019s ear, and\ncompelled him, by her witchcraft, to see everything under a false aspect.\n\nHe made up his mind, therefore, to let Theseus drink off the poisoned\nwine.\n\n\u201cYoung man,\u201d said he, \u201cyou are welcome! I am proud to show hospitality to\nso heroic a youth. Do me the favor to drink the contents of this goblet.\nIt is brimming over, as you see, with delicious wine, such as I bestow\nonly on those who are worthy of it! None is more worthy to quaff it than\nyourself!\u201d\n\nSo saying, King \u00c6geus took the golden goblet from the table, and was\nabout to offer it to Theseus. But, partly through his infirmities, and\npartly because it seemed so sad a thing to take away this young man\u2019s\nlife, however wicked he might be, and partly, no doubt, because his heart\nwas wiser than his head, and quaked within him at the thought of what\nhe was going to do\u2014for all these reasons, the king\u2019s hand trembled so\nmuch that a great deal of the wine slopped over. In order to strengthen\nhis purpose, and fearing lest the whole of the precious poison should be\nwasted, one of his nephews now whispered to him\u2014\n\n\u201cHas your majesty any doubt of this stranger\u2019s guilt? There is the\nvery sword with which he meant to slay you. How sharp, and bright, and\nterrible it is. Quick!\u2014let him taste the wine; or perhaps he may do the\ndeed even yet.\u201d\n\nAt these words, \u00c6geus drove every thought and feeling out of his breast,\nexcept the one idea how justly the young man deserved to be put to death.\nHe sat erect on his throne, and held out the goblet of wine with a steady\nhand, and bent on Theseus a frown of kingly severity; for, after all,\nhe had too noble a spirit to murder even a treacherous enemy with a\ndeceitful smile upon his face.\n\n\u201cDrink!\u201d said he, in the stern tone with which he was wont to condemn a\ncriminal to be beheaded. \u201cYou have well deserved of me such wine as this!\u201d\n\nTheseus held out his hand to take the wine. But, before he touched it,\nKing \u00c6geus trembled again. His eyes had fallen on the gold-hilted sword\nthat hung at the young man\u2019s side. He drew back the goblet.\n\n\u201cThat sword!\u201d he exclaimed; \u201chow came you by it?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was my father\u2019s sword,\u201d replied Theseus, with a tremulous voice.\n\u201cThese were his sandals. My dear mother (her name is \u00c6thra) told me his\nstory while I was yet a little child. But it is only a month since I grew\nstrong enough to lift the heavy stone, and take the sword and sandals\nfrom beneath it, and come to Athens to seek my father.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son! my son!\u201d cried King \u00c6geus, flinging away the fatal goblet, and\ntottering down from the throne to fall into the arms of Theseus. \u201cYes,\nthese are \u00c6thra\u2019s eyes. It is my son.\u201d\n\nI have quite forgotten what became of the king\u2019s nephews. But when\nthe wicked Medea saw this new turn of affairs, she hurried out of the\nroom, and going to her private chamber, lost no time in setting her\nenchantments at work. In a few moments she heard a great noise of hissing\nsnakes outside of the chamber window; and, behold! there was her fiery\nchariot, and four huge winged serpents, wriggling and twisting in the\nair, flourishing their tails higher than the top of the palace, and all\nready to set off on an a\u00ebrial journey. Medea stayed only long enough to\ntake her son with her, and to steal the crown jewels, together with the\nking\u2019s best robes, and whatever other valuable things she could lay her\nhands on; and getting into the chariot, she whipped up the snakes, and\nascended high over the city.\n\nThe king, hearing the hiss of the serpents, scrambled as fast as he could\nto the window, and bawled out to the abominable enchantress never to\ncome back. The whole people of Athens, too, who had run out of doors to\nsee this wonderful spectacle, set up a shout of joy at the prospect of\ngetting rid of her. Medea, almost bursting with rage, uttered precisely\nsuch a hiss as one of her own snakes, only ten times more venomous and\nspiteful; and glaring fiercely out of the blaze of the chariot, she shook\nher hands over the multitude below, as if she were scattering a million\nof curses among them. In so doing, however, she unintentionally let fall\nabout five hundred diamonds of the first water, together with a thousand\ngreat pearls, and two thousand emeralds, rubies, sapphires, opals, and\ntopazes, to which she had helped herself out of the king\u2019s strong-box.\nAll these came pelting down, like a shower of many-colored hailstones,\nupon the heads of grown people and children, who forthwith gathered them\nup, and carried them back to the palace. But King \u00c6geus told them that\nthey were welcome to the whole, and to twice as many more, if he had\nthem, for the sake of his delight at finding his son, and losing the\nwicked Medea. And, indeed, if you had seen how hateful was her last\nlook, as the flaming chariot flew upward, you would not have wondered\nthat both king and people should think her departure a good riddance.\n\nAnd now Prince Theseus was taken into great favor by his royal father.\nThe old king was never weary of having him sit beside him on his throne,\n(which was quite wide enough for two), and of hearing him tell about\nhis dear mother, and his childhood, and his many boyish efforts to lift\nthe ponderous stone. Theseus, however, was much too brave and active a\nyoung man to be willing to spend all his time in relating things which\nhad already happened. His ambition was to perform other and more heroic\ndeeds, which should be better worth telling in prose and verse. Nor had\nhe been long in Athens before he caught and chained a terrible mad bull,\nand made a public show of him, greatly to the wonder and admiration of\ngood King \u00c6geus and his subjects. But pretty soon he undertook an affair\nthat made all his foregone adventures seem like mere boy\u2019s play. The\noccasion of it was as follows:\u2014\n\nOne morning, when Prince Theseus awoke, he fancied that he must have had\na very sorrowful dream, and that it was still running in his mind, even\nnow that his eyes were open. For it appeared as if the air was full of\na melancholy wail; and when he listened more attentively, he could hear\nsobs, and groans, and screams of woe, mingled with deep, quiet sighs,\nwhich came from the king\u2019s palace, and from the streets, and from the\ntemples, and from every habitation in the city. And all these mournful\nnoises, issuing out of thousands of separate hearts, united themselves\ninto the one great sound of affliction, which had startled Theseus from\nslumber. He put on his clothes as quickly as he could (not forgetting his\nsandals and gold-hilted sword), and hastening to the king, inquired what\nit all meant.\n\n\u201cAlas! my son,\u201d quoth King \u00c6geus, heaving a long sigh, \u201chere is a very\nlamentable matter in hand. This is the woefulest anniversary in the whole\nyear. It is the day when we annually draw lots to see which of the youths\nand maidens of Athens shall go to be devoured by the horrible Minotaur!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Minotaur!\u201d exclaimed Prince Theseus; and like a brave young prince\nas he was, he put his hand to the hilt of his sword. \u201cWhat kind of a\nmonster may that be? Is it not possible, at the risk of one\u2019s life, to\nslay him?\u201d\n\nBut King \u00c6geus shook his venerable head, and to convince Theseus that\nit was quite a hopeless case, he gave him an explanation of the whole\naffair. It seems that in the island of Crete there lived a certain\ndreadful monster, called a Minotaur, which was shaped partly like a\nman and partly like a bull, and was altogether such a hideous sort of\na creature that it is really disagreeable to think of him. If he were\nsuffered to exist at all, it should have been on some desert island,\nor in the duskiness of some deep cavern, where nobody would ever be\ntormented by his abominable aspect. But King Minos, who reigned over\nCrete, laid out a vast deal of money in building a habitation for\nthe Minotaur, and took great care of his health and comfort, merely\nfor mischief\u2019s sake. A few years before this time, there had been a\nwar between the city of Athens and the island of Crete, in which the\nAthenians were beaten and compelled to beg for peace. No peace could they\nobtain, however, except on condition that they should send seven young\nmen and seven maidens, every year, to be devoured by the pet monster of\nthe cruel King Minos. For three years past, this grievous calamity had\nbeen borne. And the sobs, and groans, and shrieks, with which the city\nwas now filled, were caused by the people\u2019s woe, because the fatal day\nhad come again, when the fourteen victims were to be chosen by lot, and\nthe old people feared lest their sons or daughters might be taken, and\nthe youths and damsels dreaded lest they themselves might be destined to\nglut the ravenous maw of that detestable man-brute.\n\nBut when Theseus heard the story, he straightened himself up, so that he\nseemed taller than ever before; and as for his face, it was indignant,\ndespiteful, bold, tender, and compassionate, all in one look.\n\n\u201cLet the people of Athens, this year, draw lots for only six young men,\ninstead of seven,\u201d said he. \u201cI will myself be the seventh; and let the\nMinotaur devour me, if he can!\u201d\n\n\u201cO my dear son,\u201d cried King \u00c6geus, \u201cwhy should you expose yourself to\nthis horrible fate? You are a royal prince, and have a right to hold\nyourself above the destinies of common men.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is because I am a prince, your son, and the rightful heir of your\nkingdom, that I freely take upon me the calamity of your subjects,\u201d\nanswered Theseus. \u201cAnd you, my father, being king over this people,\nand answerable to heaven for their welfare, are bound to sacrifice what\nis dearest to you, rather than that the son or daughter of the poorest\ncitizen should come to any harm.\u201d\n\nThe old king shed tears, and besought Theseus not to leave him desolate\nin his old age, more especially as he had but just begun to know the\nhappiness of possessing a good and valiant son. Theseus, however, felt\nthat he was in the right, and therefore would not give up his resolution.\nBut he assured his father that he did not intend to be eaten up,\nunresistingly, like a sheep, and that, if the Minotaur devoured him, it\nshould not be without a battle for his dinner. And finally, since he\ncould not help it, King \u00c6geus consented to let him go. So a vessel was\ngot ready, and rigged with black sails; and Theseus, with six other young\nmen, and seven tender and beautiful damsels, came down to the harbor to\nembark. A sorrowful multitude accompanied them to the shore. There was\nthe poor old king, too, leaning on his son\u2019s arm, and looking as if his\nsingle heart held all the grief of Athens.\n\nJust as Prince Theseus was going on board, his father bethought himself\nof one last word to say.\n\n\u201cMy beloved son,\u201d said he, grasping the prince\u2019s hand, \u201cyou observe\nthat the sails of this vessel are black; as indeed they ought to be,\nsince it goes upon a voyage of sorrow and despair. Now, being weighed\ndown with infirmities, I know not whether I can survive till the vessel\nshall return. But, as long is I do live, I shall creep daily to the top\nof yonder cliff, to watch if there be a sail upon the sea. And, dearest\nTheseus, if, by some happy chance, you should escape the jaws of the\nMinotaur, then tear down those dismal sails, and hoist others that shall\nbe bright as the sunshine. Beholding them on the horizon, myself and\nall the people will know that you are coming back victorious, and will\nwelcome you with such a festal uproar as Athens never heard before.\u201d\n\nTheseus promised that he would do so. Then, going on board, the mariners\ntrimmed the vessel\u2019s black sails to the wind, which blew faintly off\nthe shore, being pretty much made up of the sighs that everybody kept\npouring forth on this melancholy occasion. But by-and-by, when they had\ngot fairly out to sea, there came a stiff breeze from the north-west, and\ndrove them along as merrily over the white-capped waves as if they had\nbeen going on the most delightful errand imaginable. And though it was\na sad business enough, I rather question whether fourteen young people,\nwithout any old persons to keep them in order, could continue to spend\nthe whole time of the voyage in being miserable. There had been some few\ndances upon the undulating deck, I suspect, and some hearty bursts of\nlaughter, and other such unseasonable merriment among the victims, before\nthe high blue mountains of Crete began to show themselves among the\nfar-off clouds. That sight, to be sure, made them all very grave again.\n\nTheseus stood among the sailors gazing eagerly towards the land;\nalthough, as yet, it seemed hardly more substantial than the clouds,\namidst which the mountains were looming up. Once or twice he fancied that\nhe saw a glare of some bright object, a long way off, flinging a gleam\nacross the waves. \u201cDid you see that flash of light?\u201d he inquired of the\nmaster of the vessel.\n\n\u201cNo, prince; but I have seen it before,\u201d answered the master. \u201cIt came\nfrom Talus, I suppose.\u201d\n\nAs the breeze came fresher just then, the master was busy with trimming\nhis sails, and had no more time to answer questions. But while the vessel\nflew faster and faster towards Crete, Theseus was astonished to behold\na human figure, gigantic in size, which appeared to be striding, with\na measured movement, along the margin of the island. It stepped from\ncliff to cliff, and sometimes from one headland to another, while the\nsea foamed and thundered on the shore beneath, and dashed its jets of\nspray over the giant\u2019s feet. What was still more remarkable, whenever\nthe sun shone on this huge figure, it flickered and glimmered; its vast\ncountenance, too, had a metallic luster, and threw great flashes of\nsplendor through the air. The folds of its garments, moreover, instead of\nwaving in the wind, fell heavily over its limbs, as if woven of some kind\nof metal.\n\nThe nigher the vessel came, the more Theseus wondered what this immense\ngiant could be, and whether it actually had life or no. For, though it\nwalked, and made other life-like motions, there yet was a kind of jerk\nin its gait, which, together with its brazen aspect, caused the young\nprince to suspect that it was no true giant, but only a wonderful piece\nof machinery. The figure looked all the more terrible because it carried\nan enormous brass club on its shoulder.\n\n\u201cWhat is this wonder?\u201d Theseus asked of the master of the vessel, who was\nnow at leisure to answer him.\n\n\u201cIt is Talus, the Man of Brass,\u201d said the master.\n\n\u201cAnd is he a live giant, or a brazen image?\u201d asked Theseus.\n\n\u201cThat, truly,\u201d replied the master, \u201cis the point which has always\nperplexed me. Some say, indeed, that this Talus was hammered out for\nKing Minos by Vulcan himself, the skilfulest of all workers in metal.\nBut who ever saw a brazen image that had sense enough to walk round an\nisland three times a day, as this giant walks round the island of Crete,\nchallenging every vessel that comes nigh the shore? And, on the other\nhand, what living thing, unless his sinews were made of brass, would not\nbe weary of marching eighteen hundred miles in the twenty-four hours, as\nTalus does, without ever sitting down to rest? He is a puzzler, take him\nhow you will.\u201d\n\nStill the vessel went bounding onward; and now Theseus could hear the\nbrazen clangor of the giant\u2019s footsteps, as he trod heavily upon the\nsea-beaten rocks, some of which were seen to crack and crumble into the\nfoamy waves beneath his weight. As they approached the entrance of the\nport the giant straddled clear across it, with a foot firmly planted on\neach headland, and uplifting his club to such a height that its butt-end\nwas hidden in a cloud, he stood in that formidable posture, with the sun\ngleaming all over his metallic surface. There seemed nothing else to be\nexpected but that, the next moment, he would fetch his great club down,\nslam bang, and smash the vessel into a thousand pieces, without heeding\nhow many innocent people he might destroy; for there is seldom any mercy\nin a giant, you know, and quite as little in a piece of brass clockwork.\nBut just when Theseus and his companions thought the blow was coming, the\nbrazen lips unclosed themselves, and the figure spoke.\n\n\u201cWhence come you, strangers?\u201d\n\nAnd when the ringing voice ceased, there was just such a reverberation as\nyou may have heard within a great church bell, for a moment or two after\nthe stroke of the hammer.\n\n\u201cFrom Athens!\u201d shouted the master in reply.\n\n\u201cOn what errand?\u201d thundered the Man of Brass.\n\nAnd he whirled his club aloft more threateningly than ever, as if he were\nabout to smite them with a thunderstroke right amidships, because Athens,\nso little while ago, had been at war with Crete.\n\n\u201cWe bring the seven youths and the seven maidens,\u201d answered the master,\n\u201cto be devoured by the Minotaur!\u201d\n\n\u201cPass!\u201d cried the brazen giant.\n\nThat one loud word rolled all about the sky, while again there was a\nbooming reverberation within the figure\u2019s breast. The vessel glided\nbetween the headlands of the port, and the giant resumed his march. In a\nfew moments, this wondrous sentinel was far away, flashing in the distant\nsunshine, and revolving with immense strides around the island of Crete,\nas it was his never-ceasing task to do.\n\nNo sooner had they entered the harbor than a party of the guards of King\nMinos came down to the water side, and took charge of the fourteen young\nmen and damsels. Surrounded by these armed warriors, Prince Theseus\nand his companions were led to the king\u2019s palace, and ushered into his\npresence. Now, Minos was a stern and pitiless king. If the figure that\nguarded Crete was made of brass, then the monarch, who ruled over it,\nmight be thought to have a still harder metal in his breast, and might\nhave been called a man of iron. He bent his shaggy brows upon the poor\nAthenian victims. Any other mortal, beholding their fresh and tender\nbeauty, and their innocent looks, would have felt himself sitting on\nthorns until he had made every soul of them happy, by bidding them go\nfree as the summer wind. But this immitigable Minos cared only to examine\nwhether they were plump enough to satisfy the Minotaur\u2019s appetite. For my\npart, I wish he himself had been the only victim; and the monster would\nhave found him a pretty tough one.\n\nOne after another, King Minos called these pale frightened youths and\nsobbing maidens to his footstool, gave them each a poke in the ribs with\nhis scepter (to try whether they were in good flesh or no), and dismissed\nthem with a nod to his guards. But when his eyes rested on Theseus, the\nking looked at him more attentively, because his face was calm and brave.\n\n\u201cYoung man,\u201d asked he, with his stern voice, \u201care you not appalled at the\ncertainty of being devoured by this terrible Minotaur?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have offered my life in a good cause,\u201d answered Theseus, \u201cand\ntherefore I give it freely and gladly. But thou, King Minos, art thou\nnot thyself appalled, who, year after year, hast perpetrated this\ndreadful wrong, by giving seven innocent youths and as many maidens to be\ndevoured by a monster? Dost thou not tremble, wicked king, to turn thine\neyes inward on thine own heart? Sitting there on thy golden throne, and\nin thy robes of majesty, I tell thee to thy face, King Minos, thou art a\nmore hideous monster than the Minotaur himself!\u201d\n\n\u201cAha! do you think me so?\u201d cried the king, laughing in his cruel way.\n\u201cTo-morrow, at breakfast time, you shall have an opportunity of judging\nwhich is the greater monster, the Minotaur or the king! Take them away,\nguards; and let this free-spoken youth be the Minotaur\u2019s first morsel!\u201d\n\nNear the king\u2019s throne (though I had no time to tell you so before) stood\nhis daughter Ariadne. She was a beautiful and tender-hearted maiden, and\nlooked at these poor doomed captives with very different feelings from\nthose of the iron-breasted King Minos. She really wept, indeed, at the\nidea of how much human happiness would be needlessly thrown away, by\ngiving so many young people, in the first bloom and rose blossom of their\nlives, to be eaten up by a creature who, no doubt, would have preferred a\nfat ox, or even a large pig, to the plumpest of them. And when she beheld\nthe brave, spirited figure of Prince Theseus bearing himself so calmly in\nhis terrible peril, she grew a hundred times more pitiful than before. As\nthe guards were taking him away, she flung herself at the king\u2019s feet,\nand besought him to set all the captives free, and especially this one\nyoung man.\n\n\u201cPeace, foolish girl!\u201d answered King Minos. \u201cWhat hast thou to do with\nan affair like this? It is a matter of state policy, and therefore quite\nbeyond thy weak comprehension. Go water thy flowers, and think no more of\nthese Athenian caitiffs, whom the Minotaur shall as certainly eat up for\nbreakfast as I will eat a partridge for my supper.\u201d\n\nSo saying, the king looked cruel enough to devour Theseus and all the\nrest of the captives, himself, had there been no Minotaur to save him the\ntrouble. As he would hear not another word in their favor, the prisoners\nwere now led away, and clapped into a dungeon, where the jailer advised\nto go to sleep as soon as possible, because the Minotaur was in the habit\nof calling for breakfast early. The seven maidens and six of the young\nmen soon sobbed themselves to slumber. But Theseus was not like them.\nHe felt conscious that he was wiser, and braver, and stronger than his\ncompanions, and that therefore he had the responsibility of all their\nlives upon him, and must consider whether there was no way to save them,\neven in this last extremity. So he kept himself awake, and paced to and\nfro across the gloomy dungeon in which they were shut up.\n\nJust before midnight, the door was softly unbarred, and the gentle\nAriadne showed herself, with a torch in her hand.\n\n\u201cAre you awake, Prince Theseus?\u201d she whispered.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered Theseus. \u201cWith so little time to live, I do not choose to\nwaste any of it in sleep.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen follow me,\u201d said Ariadne, \u201cand tread softly.\u201d\n\nWhat had become of the jailer and the guards, Theseus never knew. But,\nhowever that might be, Ariadne opened all the doors, and led him forth\nfrom the darksome prison into the pleasant moonlight.\n\n\u201cTheseus,\u201d said the maiden, \u201cyou can now get on board your vessel, and\nsail away for Athens.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered the young man; \u201cI will never leave Crete unless I can\nfirst slay the Minotaur, and save my poor companions, and deliver Athens\nfrom this cruel tribute.\u201d\n\n\u201cI knew that this would be your resolution,\u201d said Ariadne. \u201cCome, then,\nwith me, brave Theseus. Here is your own sword, which the guards deprived\nyou of. You will need it; and pray Heaven you may use it well.\u201d\n\nThen she led Theseus along by the hand until they came to a dark,\nshadowy grove, where the moonlight wasted itself on the tops of the\ntrees, without shedding hardly so much as a glimmering beam upon their\npathway. After going a good way through this obscurity, they reached a\nhigh marble wall, which was overgrown with creeping plants, that made\nit shaggy with their verdure. The wall seemed to have no door, nor any\nwindows, but rose up, lofty, and massive, and mysterious, and was neither\nto be clambered over, nor, so far as Theseus could perceive, to be passed\nthrough. Nevertheless, Ariadne did but press one of her soft little\nfingers against a particular block of marble, and, though it looked as\nsolid as any other part of the wall, it yielded to her touch, disclosing\nan entrance just wide enough to admit them. They crept through, and the\nmarble stone swung back into its place.\n\n\u201cWe are now,\u201d said Ariadne, \u201cin the famous labyrinth which D\u00e6dalus built\nbefore he made himself a pair of wings, and flew away from our island\nlike a bird. That D\u00e6dalus was a very cunning workman; but of all his\nartful contrivances, this labyrinth is the most wondrous. Were we to take\nbut a few steps from the doorway, we might wander about all our lifetime,\nand never find it again. Yet in the very center of this labyrinth is the\nMinotaur and, Theseus, you must go thither to seek him.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how shall I ever find him,\u201d asked Theseus, \u201cif the labyrinth so\nbewilders me as you say it will?\u201d\n\nJust as he spoke, they heard a rough and very disagreeable roar, which\ngreatly resembled the lowing of a fierce bull, but yet had some sort of\nsound like the human voice. Theseus even fancied a rude articulation in\nit, as if the creature that uttered it were trying to shape his hoarse\nbreath into words. It was at some distance, however, and he really could\nnot tell whether it sounded most like a bull\u2019s roar or a man\u2019s harsh\nvoice.\n\n\u201cThat is the Minotaur\u2019s noise,\u201d whispered Ariadne, closely grasping the\nhand of Theseus, and pressing one of her own hands to her heart, which\nwas all in a tremble. \u201cYou must follow that sound through the windings of\nthe labyrinth, and, by and by, you will find him. Stay! take the end of\nthis silken string, I will hold the other end; and then, if you win the\nvictory, it will lead you again to this spot. Farewell, brave Theseus.\u201d\n\nSo the young man took the end of the silken string in his left hand,\nand his gold-hilted sword, ready drawn from its scabbard, in the other,\nand trod boldly into the inscrutable labyrinth. How this labyrinth was\nbuilt is more than I can tell you, but so cunningly contrived a mizmaze\nwas never seen in the world, before nor since. There can be nothing\nelse so intricate, unless it were the brain of a man like D\u00e6dalus, who\nplanned it, or the heart of any ordinary man; which last, to be sure,\nis ten times as great a mystery as the labyrinth of Crete. Theseus had\nnot taken five steps before he lost sight of Ariadne and in five more\nhis head was growing dizzy. But still he went on, now creeping through a\nlow arch, now ascending a flight of steps, now in one crooked passage,\nand now in another, with here a door opening before him, and there one\nhanging behind, until it really seemed as if the walls spun round, and\nwhirled him round along with them. And all the while, through these\nhollow avenues, now nearer, now farther off again, resounded the cry of\nthe Minotaur; and the sound was so fierce, so cruel, so ugly, so like\na bull\u2019s roar, and withal so like a human voice, and yet like neither\nof them, that the brave heart of Theseus grew sterner and angrier at\nevery step; for he felt it an insult to the moon and sky, and to our\naffectionate and simple Mother Earth, that such a monster should have the\naudacity to exist.\n\nAs he passed onward, the clouds gathered over the moon, and the\nlabyrinth grew so dusky that Theseus could no longer discern the\nbewilderment through which he was passing. He would have felt quite\nlost, and utterly hopeless of ever again walking in a straight path,\nif, every little while, he had not been conscious of a gentle twitch at\nthe silken cord. Then he knew that the tender-hearted Ariadne was still\nholding the other end, and that she was fearing for him, and hoping for\nhim, and giving him just as much of her sympathy as if she were close by\nhis side. Oh, indeed, I can assure you, there, was a vast deal of human\nsympathy running along that slender thread of silk. But still he followed\nthe dreadful roar of the Minotaur, which now grew louder and louder, and\nfinally so very loud that Theseus fully expected to come close upon him,\nat every new zigzag and wriggle of the path. And at last, in an open\nspace, at the very center of the labyrinth, he did discern the hideous\ncreature.\n\nSure enough, what an ugly monster it was! Only his horned head belonged\nto a bull; and yet, somehow or other, he looked like a bull all over,\npreposterously waddling on his hind legs; or, if you happened to view\nhim in another way, he seemed wholly a man, and all the more monstrous\nfor being so. And there he was, the wretched thing, with no society, no\ncompanion, no kind of a mate, living only to do mischief, and incapable\nof knowing what affection means. Theseus hated him, and shuddered at\nhim, and yet could not but be sensible of some sort of pity; and all\nthe more, the uglier and more detestable the creature was. For he kept\nstriding to and fro, in a solitary frenzy of rage, continually emitting a\nhoarse roar, which was oddly mixed up with half-shaped words; and, after\nlistening a while, Theseus understood that the Minotaur was saying to\nhimself how miserable he was, and how hungry, and how he hated everybody,\nand how he longed to eat up the human race alive.\n\nAh, the bull-headed villain! And oh, my good little people, you will\nperhaps see, one of these days, as I do now, that every human being who\nsuffers anything evil to get into his nature, or to remain there, is a\nkind of Minotaur, an enemy of his fellow-creatures, and separated from\nall good companionship, as this poor monster was.\n\nWas Theseus afraid? By no means, my dear auditors. What! a hero like\nTheseus afraid! Not had the Minotaur had twenty bull heads instead of\none. Bold as he was, however, I rather fancy that it strengthened his\nvaliant heart, just at this crisis, to feel a tremulous twitch at the\nsilken cord, which he was still holding in his left hand. It was as\nif Ariadne were giving him all her might and courage; and, much as he\nalready had, and little as she had to give, it made his own seem twice as\nmuch. And to confess the honest truth, he needed the whole, for now the\nMinotaur, turning suddenly about, caught sight of Theseus, and instantly\nlowered his horribly sharp horns, exactly as a mad bull does when he\nmeans to rush against an enemy. At the same time, he belched forth a\ntremendous roar, in which there was something like the words of human\nlanguage, but all disjointed and shaken to pieces by passing through the\ngullet of a miserably enraged brute.\n\nTheseus could only guess what the creature intended to say, and that\nrather by his gestures than his words, for the Minotaur\u2019s horns were\nsharper than his wits, and of a great deal more service to him than his\ntongue. But probably this was the sense of what he uttered:\n\n\u201cAh, wretch of a human being! I\u2019ll stick my horns through you, and toss\nyou fifty feet high, and eat you up the moment you come down.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome on, then, and try it!\u201d was all that Theseus deigned to reply; for\nhe was far too magnanimous to assault his enemy with insolent language.\n\nWithout more words on either side, there ensued the most awful fight\nbetween Theseus and the Minotaur that ever happened beneath the sun or\nmoon. I really know not how it might have turned out, if the monster, in\nhis first headlong rush against Theseus, had not missed him, by a hair\u2019s\nbreadth, and broken one of his horns short off against the stone wall.\nOn this mishap he bellowed so intolerably that a part of the labyrinth\ntumbled down, and all the inhabitants of Crete mistook the noise for\nan uncommonly heavy thunder-storm. Smarting with the pain, he galloped\naround the open space in so ridiculous a way that Theseus laughed at it,\nlong afterwards, though not precisely at the moment. After this, the two\nantagonists stood valiantly up to one another, and fought sword to horn,\nfor a long while. At last, the Minotaur made a run at Theseus, grazed\nhis left side with his horn, and flung him down; and thinking that he\nhad stabbed him to the heart, he cut a great caper in the air, opened\nhis bull mouth from ear to ear, and prepared to snap his head off. But\nTheseus by this time had leaped up, and caught the monster off his guard.\nFetching a sword stroke at him with all his force, he hit him fair upon\nthe neck, and made his bull head skip six yards from his human body,\nwhich fell down flat upon the ground.\n\nSo now the battle was ended. Immediately the moon shone out as brightly\nas if all the troubles of the world, and all the wickedness and the\nugliness that infest human life, were past and gone forever. And Theseus,\nas he leaned on his sword taking breath, felt another twitch of the\nsilken cord; for all through the terrible encounter, he had held it fast\nin his left hand. Eager to let Ariadne know of his success, he followed\nthe guidance of the thread, and soon found himself at the entrance of the\nlabyrinth.\n\n\u201cThou hast slain the monster,\u201d cried Ariadne, clasping her hands.\n\n\u201cThanks to thee, dear Ariadne,\u201d answered Theseus, \u201cI return victorious.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said Ariadne, \u201cwe must quickly summon thy friends, and get them\nand thyself on board the vessel before dawn. If morning finds thee here,\nmy father will avenge the Minotaur.\u201d\n\nTo make my story short, the poor captives were awakened, and, hardly\nknowing whether it was not a joyful dream, were told of what Theseus had\ndone, and that they must set sail for Athens before daybreak. Hastening\ndown to the vessel, they all clambered on board, except Prince Theseus,\nwho lingered behind them on the strand, holding Ariadne\u2019s hand clasped in\nhis own.\n\n\u201cDear maiden,\u201d said he, \u201cthou wilt surely go with us. Thou art too gentle\nand sweet a child for such an iron-hearted father as King Minos. He\ncares no more for thee than a granite rock cares for the little flower\nthat grows in one of its crevices. But my father King \u00c6geus, and my dear\nmother, \u00c6thra, and all the fathers and mothers in Athens, and all the\nsons and daughters too, will love and honor thee as their benefactress.\nCome with us, then; for King Minos will be very angry when he knows what\nthou hast done.\u201d\n\nNow, some low-minded people, who pretend to tell the story of Theseus\nand Ariadne, have the face to say that this royal and honorable maiden\ndid really flee away, under cover of the night, with the young stranger\nwhose life she had preserved. They say, too, that Prince Theseus (who\ncould have died sooner than wrong the meanest creature in the world)\nungratefully deserted Ariadne on a solitary island, where the vessel\ntouched on its voyage to Athens. But, had the noble Theseus heard these\nfalsehoods, he would have served their slanderous authors as he served\nthe Minotaur! Here is what Ariadne answered, when the brave Prince of\nAthens besought her to accompany him:\n\n\u201cNo, Theseus,\u201d the maiden said, pressing his hand, and then drawing back\na step or two, \u201cI cannot go with you. My father is old, and has nobody\nbut myself to love him. Hard as you think his heart is, it would break to\nlose me. At first, King Minos will be angry; but he will soon forgive\nhis only child; and, by and by, he will rejoice, I know, that no more\nyouths and maidens must come from Athens to be devoured by the Minotaur.\nI have saved you, Theseus, as much for my father\u2019s sake as for your own.\nFarewell! Heaven bless you!\u201d\n\nAll this was so true, and so maiden-like, and was spoken with so sweet a\ndignity, that Theseus would have blushed to urge her any longer. Nothing\nremained for him, therefore, but to bid Ariadne an affectionate farewell,\nand to go on board the vessel, and set sail.\n\nIn a few moments the white foam was boiling up before their prow,\nas Prince Theseus and his companions sailed out of the harbor, with\na whistling breeze behind them. Talus, the brazen giant, on his\nnever-ceasing sentinel\u2019s march, happened to be approaching that part of\nthe coast; and they saw him, by the glimmering of the moonbeams on his\npolished surface, while he was yet a great way off. As the figure moved\nlike clockwork, however, and could neither hasten his enormous strides\nnor retard them, he arrived at the port when they were just beyond the\nreach of his club. Nevertheless, straddling from headland to headland,\nas his custom was, Talus attempted to strike a blow at the vessel, and,\noverreaching himself, tumbled at full length into the sea, which splashed\nhigh over his gigantic shape, as when an iceberg turns a somerset. There\nhe lies yet; and whoever desires to enrich himself by means of brass had\nbetter go thither with a diving bell, and fish up Talus.\n\nOn the homeward voyage, the fourteen youths and damsels were in\nexcellent spirits, as you will easily suppose. They spent most of their\ntime in dancing, unless when the sidelong breeze made the deck slope too\nmuch. In due season, they came within sight of the coast of Attica, which\nwas their native country. But here, I am grieved to tell you, happened a\nsad misfortune.\n\nYou will remember (what Theseus unfortunately forgot) that his father,\nKing \u00c6geus, had enjoined it upon him to hoist sunshiny sails, instead\nof black ones, in case he should overcome the Minotaur, and return\nvictorious. In the joy of their success, however, and amidst the sports,\ndancing, and other merriment, with which these young folks wore away the\ntime, they never once thought whether their sails were black, white, or\nrainbow colored, and, indeed, left it entirely to the mariners whether\nthey had any sails at all. Thus the vessel returned, like a raven, with\nthe same sable wings that had wafted her away. But poor King \u00c6geus, day\nafter day, infirm as he was, had clambered to the summit of a cliff that\noverhung the sea, and there sat watching for Prince Theseus, homeward\nbound; and no sooner did he behold the fatal blackness of the sails, than\nhe concluded that his dear son, whom he loved so much, and felt so proud\nof, had been eaten by the Minotaur. He could not bear the thought of\nliving any longer; so, first flinging his crown and scepter into the sea\n(useless baubles that they were to him now!) King \u00c6geus merely stooped\nforward, and fell headlong over the cliff, and was drowned, poor soul, in\nthe waves that foamed at its base!\n\nThis was melancholy news for Prince Theseus, who when he stepped ashore,\nfound himself king of all the country, whether he would or no; and such\na turn of fortune was enough to make any young man feel very much out of\nspirits. However, he sent for his dear mother to Athens, and, by taking\nher advice in matters of state, became a very excellent monarch, and was\ngreatly beloved by his people.\n\n\n\n\nPEGASUS, THE WINGED HORSE\n\nBy Nathaniel Hawthorne\n\n\nOnce, in the old, old times a fountain gushed out of a hill-side, in the\nmarvellous land of Greece. And, for aught I know, after so many thousand\nyears, it is still gushing out of the very selfsame spot. At any rate,\nthere was the pleasant fountain, welling freshly forth and sparkling\nadown the hill-side, in the golden sunset, when a handsome young man\nnamed Bellerophon drew near its margin. In his hand he held a bridle,\nstudded with brilliant gems, and adorned with a golden bit. Seeing an old\nman, and another of middle age, and a little boy, near the fountain, and\nlikewise a maiden, who was dipping up some of the water in a pitcher, he\npaused, and begged that he might refresh himself with a draught.\n\n\u201cThis is very delicious water,\u201d he said to the maiden as he rinsed and\nfilled her pitcher, after drinking out of it. \u201cWill you be kind enough to\ntell me whether the fountain has any name?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; it is called the Fountain of Pirene,\u201d answered the maiden; and\nthen she added, \u201cMy grandmother has told me that this clear fountain was\nonce a beautiful woman; and when her son was killed by the arrows of the\nhuntress Diana, she melted all away into tears. And so the water, which\nyou find so cool and sweet, is the sorrow of that poor mother\u2019s heart!\u201d\n\n\u201cI should not have dreamed,\u201d observed the young stranger, \u201cthat so clear\na well-spring with its gush and gurgle, and its cheery dance out of the\nshade into the sunlight, had so much as one tear-drop in its bosom! And\nthis, then, is Pirene? I thank you, pretty maiden, for telling me its\nname. I have come from a far-away country to find this very spot.\u201d\n\nA middle-aged country fellow (he had driven his cow to drink out of the\nspring) stared hard at young Bellerophon, and at the handsome bridle\nwhich he carried in his hand.\n\n\u201cThe water-courses must be getting low, friend, in your part of the\nworld,\u201d remarked he, \u201cif you come so far only to find the Fountain of\nPirene. But, pray, have you lost a horse? I see you carry the bridle in\nyour hand; and a very pretty one it is with that double row of bright\nstones upon it. If the horse was as fine as the bridle, you are much to\nbe pitied for losing him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have lost no horse,\u201d said Bellerophon, with a smile. \u201cBut I happen to\nbe seeking a very famous one, which, as wise people have informed me,\nmust be found hereabouts, if anywhere. Do you know whether the winged\nhorse Pegasus still haunts the Fountain of Pirene, as he used to do in\nyour forefathers\u2019 days?\u201d\n\nBut then the country fellow laughed.\n\nSome of you, my little friends, have probably heard that this Pegasus was\na snow-white steed, with beautiful silvery wings, who spent most of his\ntime on the summit of Mount Helicon. He was as wild, and as swift, and\nas buoyant, in his flight through the air, as any eagle that ever soared\ninto the clouds. There was nothing else like him in the world. He had no\nmate; he never had been backed or bridled by a master; and, for many a\nlong year, he led a solitary and a happy life.\n\nOh, how fine a thing it is to be a winged horse! Sleeping at night, as he\ndid, on a lofty mountain-top, and passing the greater part of the day in\nthe air, Pegasus seemed hardly to be a creature of the earth. Whenever\nhe was seen, up very high above people\u2019s heads, with the sunshine on his\nsilvery wings, you would have thought that he belonged to the sky, and\nthat, skimming a little too low, he had got astray among our mists and\nvapors, and was seeking his way back again. It was very pretty to behold\nhim plunge into the fleecy bosom of a bright cloud, and be lost in it,\nfor a moment or two, and then break forth from the other side. Or, in a\nsullen rainstorm, when there was a gray pavement of clouds over the whole\nsky, it would sometimes happen that the winged horse descended right\nthrough it, and the glad light of the upper region would gleam after him.\nIn another instant, it is true, both Pegasus and the pleasant light would\nbe gone away together. But any one that was fortunate enough to see this\nwondrous spectacle felt cheerful the whole day afterward, and as much\nlonger as the storm lasted.\n\nIn the summer-time and in the beautifulest of weather, Pegasus often\nalighted on the solid earth, and, closing his silvery wings, would\ngallop over hill and dale for pastime as fleetly as the wind. Oftener\nthan in any other place, he had been seen near the Fountain of Pirene,\ndrinking the delicious water, or rolling himself upon the soft grass of\nthe margin. Sometimes, too (but Pegasus was very dainty in his food), he\nwould crop a few of the clover-blossoms that happened to be sweetest.\n\nTo the Fountain of Pirene, therefore, people\u2019s great-grandfathers had\nbeen in the habit of going (as long as they were youthful, and retained\ntheir faith in winged horses), in hopes of getting a glimpse at the\nbeautiful Pegasus. But, of late years, he had been very seldom seen.\nIndeed, there were many of the country folks, dwelling within half an\nhour\u2019s walk of the fountain, who had never beheld Pegasus, and did not\nbelieve that there was any such creature in existence. The country fellow\nto whom Bellerophon was speaking chanced to be one of those incredulous\npersons.\n\nAnd that was the reason why he laughed.\n\n\u201cPegasus, indeed!\u201d cried he, turning up his nose as high as such a flat\nnose could be turned up\u2014\u201cPegasus, indeed! A winged horse, truly! Why,\nfriend, are you in your senses? Of what use would wings be to a horse?\nCould he drag the plow so well, think you? To be sure, there might be a\nlittle saving in the expense of shoes; but then, how would a man like\nto see his horse flying out of the stable window?\u2014yes, or whisking him\nup above the clouds, when he only wanted to ride to the mill? No, no! I\ndon\u2019t believe in Pegasus. There never was such a ridiculous kind of a\nhorse-fowl made!\u201d\n\n\u201cI have some reason to think otherwise,\u201d said Bellerophon, quietly.\n\nAnd then he turned to an old gray man, who was leaning on a staff, and\nlistening very attentively, with his head stretched forward, and one\nhand at his ear, because, for the last twenty years, he had been getting\nrather deaf.\n\n\u201cAnd what say you, venerable sir?\u201d inquired he. \u201cIn your younger days, I\nshould imagine, you must frequently have seen the winged steed!\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, young stranger, my memory is very poor!\u201d said the aged man. \u201cWhen\nI was a lad, if I remember rightly, I used to believe there was such a\nhorse, and so did everybody else. But nowadays, I hardly know what to\nthink, and very seldom think about the winged horse at all. If I ever saw\nthe creature, it was a long, long while ago; and, to tell you the truth,\nI doubt whether I ever did see him. One day, to be sure, when I was quite\na youth, I remember seeing some hoof-tramps round about the brink of the\nfountain. Pegasus might have made those hoof-marks; and so might some\nother horse.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd have you never seen him, my fair maiden?\u201d asked Bellerophon of the\ngirl, who stood with the pitcher on her head, while this talk went on.\n\u201cYou certainly could see Pegasus, if anybody can, for your eyes are very\nbright.\u201d\n\n\u201cOnce I thought I saw him,\u201d replied the maiden, with a smile and a\nblush. \u201cIt was either Pegasus, or a large white bird, a very great way up\nin the air. And one other time, as I was coming to the fountain with my\npitcher, I heard a neigh. Oh, such a brisk and melodious neigh as that\nwas! My very heart leaped with delight at the sound. But it startled me,\nnevertheless; so that I ran home without filling my pitcher.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was truly a pity!\u201d said Bellerophon.\n\nAnd he turned to the child, whom I mentioned at the beginning of the\nstory, and who was gazing at him, as children are apt to gaze at\nstrangers, with his rosy mouth wide open.\n\n\u201cWell, my little fellow,\u201d cried Bellerophon, playfully pulling one of his\ncurls, \u201cI suppose you have often seen the winged horse.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I have,\u201d answered the child, very readily. \u201cI saw him yesterday,\nand many times before.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a fine little man!\u201d said Bellerophon, drawing the child closer\nto him. \u201cCome, tell me all about it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d replied the child, \u201cI often come here to sail little boats in the\nfountain, and to gather pretty pebbles out of its basin. And sometimes,\nwhen I look down into the water, I see the image of the winged horse, in\nthe picture of the sky that is there. I wish he would come down, and take\nme on his back, and let me ride him up to the moon! But, if I so much as\nstir to look at him, he flies far away out of sight.\u201d\n\nAnd Bellerophon put his faith in the child, who had seen the image of\nPegasus in the water, and in the maiden, who had heard him neigh so\nmelodiously, rather than in the middle-aged clown, who believed only in\ncart-horses, or in the old man who had forgotten the beautiful things of\nhis youth.\n\nTherefore, he haunted about the Fountain of Pirene for a great many days\nafterward. He kept continually on the watch, looking upward at the sky,\nor else down into the water, hoping forever that he should see either\nthe reflected image of the winged horse, or the marvellous reality. He\nheld the bridle, with its bright gems and golden bit, always ready in his\nhand. The rustic people, who dwelt in the neighborhood, and drove their\ncattle to the fountain to drink, would often laugh at poor Bellerophon,\nand sometimes take him pretty severely to task. They told him that an\nable-bodied young man, like himself, ought to have better business than\nto be wasting his time in such an idle pursuit. They offered to sell him\na horse, if he wanted one; and when Bellerophon declined the purchase,\nthey tried to drive a bargain with him for his fine bridle.\n\nEven the country boys thought him so very foolish, that they used to\nhave a great deal of sport about him, and were rude enough not to care\na fig, although Bellerophon saw and heard it. One little urchin, for\nexample, would play Pegasus, and cut the oddest imaginable capers, by\nway of flying; while one of his school-fellows would scamper after him,\nholding forth a twist of bulrushes, which was intended to represent\nBellerophon\u2019s ornamental bridle. But the gentle child, who had seen the\npicture of Pegasus in the water, comforted the young stranger more than\nall the naughty boys could torment him. The dear little fellow, in his\nplay-hours, often sat down beside him, and, without speaking a word,\nwould look down into the fountain and up toward the sky, with so innocent\na faith, that Bellerophon could not help feeling encouraged.\n\nNow you will, perhaps, wish to be told why it was that Bellerophon\nhad undertaken to catch the winged horse. And we shall find no better\nopportunity to speak about this matter than while he is waiting for\nPegasus to appear.\n\nIf I were to relate the whole of Bellerophon\u2019s previous adventures,\nthey might easily grow into a very long story. It will be quite enough\nto say, that, in a certain country in Asia, a terrible monster, called\na Chim\u00e6ra, had made its appearance, and was doing more mischief than\ncould be talked about between now and sunset. According to the best\naccounts which I have been able to obtain, this Chim\u00e6ra was nearly, if\nnot quite the ugliest and most poisonous creature, and the strangest and\nunaccountablest, and the hardest to fight with, and the most difficult to\nrun away from, that ever came out of the earth\u2019s inside. It had a tail\nlike a boa-constrictor; its body was like I do not care what; and it had\nthree separate heads, one of which was a lion\u2019s, the second a goat\u2019s,\nand the third an abominably great snake\u2019s. And a hot blast of fire came\nflaming out of each of its three mouths! Being an earthly monster, I\ndoubt whether it had any wings; but, wings or no, it ran like a goat and\na lion, and wriggled along like a serpent, and thus contrived to make\nabout as much speed as all the three together.\n\nOh, the mischief, and mischief, and mischief that this naughty creature\ndid! With its flaming breath, it could set a forest on fire, or burn up a\nfield of grain, or, for that matter, a village, with all its fences and\nhouses. It laid waste the whole country round about, and used to eat up\npeople and animals alive, and cook them afterward in the burning oven of\nits stomach. Mercy on us, little children, I hope neither you nor I will\never happen to meet a Chim\u00e6ra!\n\nWhile the hateful beast (if a beast we can anywise call it) was doing\nall these horrible things, it so chanced that Bellerophon came to that\npart of the world, on a visit to the king. The king\u2019s name was Iobates,\nand Lycia was the country which he ruled over. Bellerophon was one of\nthe bravest youths in the world, and desired nothing so much as to do\nsome valiant and beneficent deed, such as would make all mankind admire\nand love him. In those days, the only way for a young man to distinguish\nhimself was by fighting battles, either with the enemies of his country,\nor with wicked giants, or with troublesome dragons, or with wild beasts,\nwhen he could find nothing more dangerous to encounter.\n\nKing Iobates perceiving the courage of his youthful visitor, proposed to\nhim to go and fight the Chim\u00e6ra, which everybody else was afraid of, and\nwhich, unless it should be soon killed, was likely to convert Lycia into\na desert. Bellerophon hesitated not a moment, but assured the king that\nhe would either slay this dreaded Chim\u00e6ra, or perish in the attempt.\n\nBut, in the first place, as the monster was so prodigiously swift, he\nbethought himself that he should never win the victory by fighting on\nfoot. The wisest thing he could do, therefore, was to get the very best\nand fleetest horse that could anywhere be found. And what other horse,\nin all the world, was half so fleet as the marvellous horse Pegasus, who\nhad wings as well as legs, and was even more active in the air than on\nthe earth? To be sure, a great many people denied that there was any such\nhorse with wings, and said that the stories about him were all poetry\nand nonsense. But, wonderful as it appeared, Bellerophon believed that\nPegasus was a real steed, and hoped that he himself might be fortunate\nenough to find him; and, once fairly mounted on his back, he would be\nable to fight the Chim\u00e6ra at better advantage.\n\nAnd this was the purpose with which he had travelled from Lycia to\nGreece, and had brought the beautifully ornamental bridle in his hand. It\nwas an enchanted bridle. If he could only succeed in putting the golden\nbit into the mouth of Pegasus, the winged horse would be submissive, and\nwould own Bellerophon for his master, and fly whithersoever he might\nchoose to turn the rein.\n\nBut, indeed, it was a weary and anxious time, while Bellerophon waited\nand waited for Pegasus, in hopes that he would come and drink at the\nFountain of Pirene. He was afraid lest King Iobates should imagine that\nhe had fled from the Chim\u00e6ra. It pained him, too, to think how much\nmischief the monster was doing, while he himself, instead of fighting\nwith it, was compelled to sit idly poring over the bright waters of\nPirene, as they gushed out of the sparkling sand. And as Pegasus came\nthither so seldom in these latter years, and scarcely alighted there\nmore than once in a lifetime, Bellerophon feared that he might grow an\nold man, and have no strength left in his arms nor courage in his heart,\nbefore the winged horse would appear. Oh, how heavily passes the time,\nwhile an adventurous youth is yearning to do his part in life and to\ngather in the harvest of his renown! How hard a lesson it is to wait! Our\nlife is brief, and how much of it is spent in teaching us only this!\n\nWell was it for Bellerophon that the gentle child had grown so fond of\nhim, and was never weary of keeping him company. Every morning the child\ngave him a new hope to put in his bosom, instead of yesterday\u2019s withered\none.\n\n\u201cDear Bellerophon,\u201d he would cry, looking up hopefully into his face, \u201cI\nthink we shall see Pegasus to-day!\u201d\n\nAnd, at length, if it had not been for the little boy\u2019s unwavering faith,\nBellerophon would have given up all hope, and would have gone back to\nLycia, and have done his best to slay the Chim\u00e6ra without the help of the\nwinged horse. And in that case poor Bellerophon would at least have been\nterribly scorched by the creature\u2019s breath, and would most probably have\nbeen killed and devoured. Nobody should ever try to fight an earth-born\nChim\u00e6ra, unless he can first get upon the back of an a\u00ebrial steed.\n\nOne morning the child spoke to Bellerophon even more hopefully than usual.\n\n\u201cDear, dear Bellerophon,\u201d cried he, \u201cI know not why it is, but I feel as\nif we should certainly see Pegasus to-day!\u201d\n\nAnd all that day he would not stir a step from Bellerophon\u2019s side; so\nthey ate a crust of bread together and drank some of the water of the\nfountain. In the afternoon, there they sat, and Bellerophon had thrown\nhis arm around the child, who likewise had put one of his little hands\ninto Bellerophon\u2019s.\n\nThe latter was lost in his own thoughts, and was fixing his eyes vacantly\non the trunks of the trees that overshadowed the fountain, and on the\ngrapevines that clambered up among their branches. But the gentle child\nwas gazing down into the water; he was grieved, for Bellerophon\u2019s sake,\nthat the hope of another day should be deceived, like so many before it;\nand two or three quiet tear-drops fell from his eyes, and mingled with\nwhat were said to be the many tears of Pirene, when she wept for her\nslain children.\n\nBut, when he least thought of it, Bellerophon felt the pressure of the\nchild\u2019s little hand, and heard a soft, almost breathless, whisper.\n\n\u201cSee there, dear Bellerophon! There is an image in the water!\u201d\n\nThe young man looked down into the dimpling mirror of the fountain,\nand saw what he took to be the reflection of a bird which seemed to be\nflying at a great height in the air, with a gleam of sunshine on its\nsnowy or silvery wings.\n\n\u201cWhat a splendid bird it must be!\u201d said he. \u201cAnd how very large it looks,\nthough it must really be flying higher than the clouds!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt makes me tremble!\u201d whispered the child. \u201cI am afraid to look up into\nthe air! It is very beautiful, and yet I dare only look at its image in\nthe water. Dear Bellerophon, do you not see that it is no bird? It is the\nwinged horse Pegasus!\u201d\n\nBellerophon\u2019s heart began to throb! He gazed keenly upward, but could\nnot see the winged creature, whether bird or horse; because, just then,\nit had plunged into the fleecy depths of a summer cloud. It was but a\nmoment, however, before the object reappeared, sinking lightly down out\nof the cloud, although still at a vast distance from the earth.\n\nBellerophon caught the child in his arms, and shrank back with him, so\nthat they were both hidden among the thick shrubbery which grew all\naround the fountain. Not that he was afraid of any harm, but he dreaded\nlest, if Pegasus caught a glimpse of them, he would fly far away, and\nalight in some inaccessible mountain-top. For it was really the winged\nhorse. After they had expected him so long, he was coming to quench his\nthirst with the water of Pirene.\n\nNearer and nearer came the a\u00ebrial wonder, flying in great circles, as\nyou may have seen a dove when about to alight. Downward came Pegasus, in\nthose wide, sweeping circles, which grew narrower, and narrower still,\nas he gradually approached the earth. The nigher the view of him, the\nmore beautiful he was, and the more marvellous the sweep of his silvery\nwings. At last, with so light a pressure as hardly to bend the grass\nabout the fountain, or imprint a hoof-tramp in the sand of its margin,\nhe alighted, and, stooping his wild head, began to drink. He drew in the\nwater, with long and pleasant sighs, and tranquil pauses of enjoyment;\nand then another draught, and another, and another. For, nowhere in the\nworld, or up among the clouds, did Pegasus love any water as he loved\nthis of Pirene. And when his thirst was slaked, he cropped a few of the\nhoney-blossoms of the clover, delicately tasting them, but not caring to\nmake a hearty meal, because the herbage, just beneath the clouds, on the\nlofty sides of Mount Helicon, suited his palate better than this ordinary\ngrass.\n\nAfter thus drinking to his heart\u2019s content, and in his dainty fashion,\ncondescending to take a little food, the winged horse began to caper to\nand fro, and dance as it were, out of mere idleness and sport. There\nnever was a more playful creature made than this very Pegasus. So there\nhe frisked, in a way that it delights me to think about, fluttering\nhis great wings as lightly as ever did a linnet, and running little\nraces, half on earth and half in the air, and which I know not whether\nto call a flight or a gallop. When a creature is perfectly able to fly,\nhe sometimes chooses to run, just for the pastime of the thing; and so\ndid Pegasus, although it cost him some little trouble to keep his hoofs\nso near the ground. Bellerophon, meanwhile, holding the child\u2019s hand,\npeeped forth from the shrubbery, and thought that never was any sight so\nbeautiful as this, nor ever a horse\u2019s eyes so wild and spirited as those\nof Pegasus. It seemed a sin to think of bridling him and riding on his\nback.\n\nOnce or twice Pegasus stopped, and snuffed the air, pricking up his ears,\ntossing his head, and turning it on all sides, as if he partly suspected\nsome mischief or other. Seeing nothing, however, and hearing no sound, he\nsoon began his antics again.\n\nAt length\u2014not that he was weary, but only idle and luxurious\u2014Pegasus\nfolded his wings, and lay down on the soft green turf. But, being too\nfull of a\u00ebrial life to remain quiet for many moments together, he soon\nrolled over on his back, with his four slender legs in the air. It was\nbeautiful to see him, this one solitary creature, whose mate had never\nbeen created, but who needed no companion, and, living a great many\nhundred years, was as happy as the centuries were long. The more he did\nsuch things as mortal horses are accustomed to do, the less earthly and\nthe more wonderful he seemed. Bellerophon and the child almost held their\nbreath, partly from a delightful awe, but still more because they dreaded\nlest the slightest stir or murmur should send him up, with the speed of\nan arrow-flight, into the furthest blue of the sky.\n\nFinally, when he had enough of rolling over and over, Pegasus turned\nhimself about, and, indolently, like any other horse, put out his fore\nlegs, in order to rise from the ground; and Bellerophon, who had guessed\nthat he would do so, darted suddenly from the thicket, and leaped astride\nof his back.\n\nYes, there he sat, on the back of the winged horse!\n\nBut what a bound did Pegasus make, when for the first time, he felt the\nweight of a mortal man upon his loins! A bound, indeed! Before he had\ntime to draw a breath, Bellerophon found himself five hundred feet aloft,\nand still shooting upward, while the winged horse snorted and trembled\nwith terror and anger. Upward he went, up, up, up, until he plunged into\nthe cold misty bosom of a cloud, at which, only a little while before,\nBellerophon had been gazing, and fancying it a very pleasant spot.\nThen again, out of the heart of the cloud, Pegasus shot down like a\nthunderbolt, as if he meant to dash both himself and his rider headlong\nagainst a rock. Then he went through about a thousand of the wildest\ncaprioles that had ever been performed either by a bird or a horse.\n\n[Illustration: THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE\u2014page 80\n\n_From the painting by Maxfield Parrish_]\n\nI cannot tell you half that he did. He skimmed straight forward, and\nsidewise, and backward. He reared himself erect, with his fore legs on\na wreath of mist, and his hind legs on nothing at all. He flung out his\nheels behind, and put down his head between his legs, with his wings\npointing right upward. At about two miles\u2019 height above the earth, he\nturned a somerset, so that Bellerophon\u2019s heels were where his head should\nhave been, and he seemed to look down into the sky instead of up. He\ntwisted his head about, and, looking Bellerophon in the face, with fire\nflashing from his eyes, made a terrible attempt to bite him. He fluttered\nhis pinions so wildly that one of the silver feathers was shaken out, and\nfloating earthward, was picked up by the child, who kept it as long as\nhe lived, in memory of Pegasus and Bellerophon.\n\nBut the latter (who, as you may judge, was as good a horseman as ever\ngalloped) had been watching his opportunity, and at last clapped the\ngolden bit of the enchanted bridle between the winged steed\u2019s jaws. No\nsooner was this done, than Pegasus became as manageable as if he had\ntaken food, all his life, out of Bellerophon\u2019s hand. To speak what I\nreally feel, it was almost a sadness to see so wild a creature grow\nsuddenly so tame. And Pegasus seemed to feel it so, likewise. He looked\nround to Bellerophon, with the tears in his beautiful eyes, instead of\nthe fire that so recently flashed from them. But when Bellerophon patted\nhis head, and spoke a few authoritative, yet kind and soothing words,\nanother look came into the eyes of Pegasus; for he was glad at heart,\nafter so many lonely centuries, to have found a companion and a master.\n\nThus it always is with winged horses, and with all such wild and solitary\ncreatures. If you can catch and overcome them, it is the surest way to\nwin their love.\n\nWhile Pegasus had been doing his utmost to shake Bellerophon off his\nback, he had flown a very long distance; and they had come within sight\nof a lofty mountain by the time the bit was in his mouth. Bellerophon had\nseen this mountain before, and knew it to be Helicon, on the summit of\nwhich was the winged horse\u2019s abode. Thither (after looking gently into\nthe rider\u2019s face, as if to ask leave) Pegasus now flew, and, alighting,\nwaited patiently until Bellerophon should please to dismount. The\nyoung man, accordingly, leaped from his steed\u2019s back, but still held\nhim fast by the bridle. Meeting his eyes, however, he was so affected\nby the gentleness of his aspect, and by the thought of the free life\nwhich Pegasus had heretofore lived, that he could not bear to keep him a\nprisoner, if he really desired his liberty.\n\nObeying this generous impulse he slipped the enchanted bridle off the\nhead of Pegasus, and took the bit from his mouth.\n\n\u201cLeave me, Pegasus!\u201d said he. \u201cEither leave me, or love me.\u201d\n\nIn an instant the winged horse shot almost out of sight, soaring straight\nupward from the summit of Mount Helicon. Being long after sunset, it was\nnow twilight on the mountain-top, and dusky evening over all the country\nround about. But Pegasus flew so high that he overtook the departed day,\nand was bathed in the upper radiance of the sun. Ascending higher and\nhigher, he looked a bright speck, and, at last, could no longer be seen\nin the hollow waste of the sky. And Bellerophon was afraid that he should\nnever behold him more. But, while he was lamenting his own folly, the\nbright speck reappeared, and drew nearer and nearer, until it descended\nlower than the sunshine; and, behold, Pegasus had come back! After this\ntrial there was no more fear of the winged horse\u2019s making his escape. He\nand Bellerophon were friends, and put loving faith in one another.\n\nThat night they lay down and slept together, with Bellerophon\u2019s arm\nabout the neck of Pegasus, not as a caution, but for kindness. And they\nawoke at peep of day, and bade one another good morning, each in his own\nlanguage.\n\nIn this manner, Bellerophon and the wondrous steed spent several days,\nand grew better acquainted and fonder of each other all the time. They\nwent on long a\u00ebrial journeys, and sometimes ascended so high that the\nearth looked hardly bigger than\u2014the moon. They visited distant countries,\nand amazed the inhabitants, who thought that the beautiful young man,\non the back of the winged horse, must have come down out of the sky. A\nthousand miles a day was no more than an easy space for the fleet Pegasus\nto pass over. Bellerophon was delighted with this kind of life, and would\nhave liked nothing better than to live always in the same way, aloft in\nthe clear atmosphere; for it was always sunny weather up there, however\ncheerless and rainy it might be in the lower region. But he could not\nforget the horrible Chim\u00e6ra, which he had promised King Iobates to slay.\nSo, at last, when he had become well accustomed to feats of horsemanship\nin the air, and could manage Pegasus with the least motion of his hand,\nand had taught him to obey his voice, he determined to attempt the\nperformance of this perilous adventure.\n\nAt daybreak, therefore, as soon as he unclosed his eyes, he gently\npinched the winged horse\u2019s ear, in order to arouse him. Pegasus\nimmediately started from the ground, and pranced about a quarter of a\nmile aloft, and made a grand sweep around the mountain-top, by way of\nshowing that he was wide awake, and ready for any kind of an excursion.\nDuring the whole of this little flight, he uttered a loud, brisk, and\nmelodious neigh, and finally came down at Bellerophon\u2019s side, as lightly\nas ever you saw a sparrow hop upon a twig.\n\n\u201cWell done, dear Pegasus! well done, my sky-skimmer!\u201d cried Bellerophon,\nfondly stroking the horse\u2019s neck. \u201cAnd now, my fleet and beautiful\nfriend, we must break our fast. To-day we are to fight the terrible\nChim\u00e6ra.\u201d\n\nAs soon as they had eaten their morning meal, and drank some sparkling\nwater from a spring called Hippocrene, Pegasus held out his head, of\nhis own accord, so that his master might put on the bridle. Then with a\ngreat many playful leaps and airy caperings, he showed his impatience\nto be gone; while Bellerophon was girding on his sword, and hanging his\nshield about his neck, and preparing himself for battle. When everything\nwas ready, the rider mounted, and (as was his custom, when going a long\ndistance) ascended five miles perpendicularly, so as the better to see\nwhither he was directing his course. He then turned the head of Pegasus\ntoward the east, and set out for Lycia. In their flight they overtook an\neagle, and came so nigh him, before he could get out of their way, that\nBellerophon might easily have caught him by the leg. Hastening onward at\nthis rate, it was still early in the forenoon when they beheld the lofty\nmountains of Lycia, with their deep and shaggy valleys. If Bellerophon\nhad been told truly, it was in one of those dismal valleys that the\nhideous Chim\u00e6ra had taken up its abode.\n\nBeing now so near their journey\u2019s end, the winged horse gradually\ndescended with his rider; and they took advantage of some clouds that\nwere floating over the mountain-tops, in order to conceal themselves.\nHovering on the upper surface of a cloud, and peeping over its edge,\nBellerophon had a pretty distinct view of the mountainous part of Lycia,\nand could look into all its shadowy vales at once. At first there\nappeared to be nothing remarkable. It was a wild, savage, and rocky tract\nof high and precipitous hills. In the more level part of the country,\nthere were the ruins of houses that had been burned, and, here and there,\nthe carcasses of dead cattle, strewn about the pastures where they had\nbeen feeding.\n\n\u201cThe Chim\u00e6ra must have done this mischief,\u201d thought Bellerophon. \u201cBut\nwhere can the monster be?\u201d\n\nAs I have already said, there was nothing remarkable to be detected,\nat first sight, in any of the valleys and dells that lay among the\nprecipitous heights of the mountains. Nothing at all; unless, indeed,\nit were three spires of black smoke, which issued from what seemed to\nbe the mouth of a cavern, and clambered sullenly into the atmosphere.\nBefore reaching the mountain-top, these three black smoke-wreaths mingled\nthemselves into one. The cavern was almost directly beneath the winged\nhorse and his rider, at the distance of about a thousand feet. The smoke,\nas it crept heavily upward, had an ugly, sulphurous, stifling scent,\nwhich caused Pegasus to snort and Bellerophon to sneeze. So disagreeable\nwas it to the marvellous steed (who was accustomed to breathe only the\npurest air), that he waved his wings, and shot half a mile out of the\nrange of this offensive vapor.\n\nBut, on looking behind him, Bellerophon saw something that induced him\nfirst to draw the bridle, and then to turn Pegasus about. He made a sign,\nwhich the winged horse understood, and sunk slowly through the air, until\nhis hoofs were scarcely more than a man\u2019s height above the rocky bottom\nof the valley. In front, as far off as you could throw a stone, was the\ncavern\u2019s mouth, with the three smoke-wreaths oozing out of it. And what\nelse did Bellerophon behold there?\n\nThere seemed to be a heap of strange and terrible creatures curled up\nwithin the cavern. Their bodies lay so close together, that Bellerophon\ncould not distinguish them apart; but, judging by their heads, one of\nthese creatures was a huge snake, the second a fierce lion, and the third\nan ugly goat. The lion and the goat were asleep; the snake was broad\nawake, and kept staring around him with a great pair of fiery eyes.\nBut\u2014and this was the most wonderful part of the matter\u2014the three spires\nof smoke evidently issued from the nostrils of these three heads! So\nstrange was the spectacle, that, though Bellerophon had been all along\nexpecting it, the truth did not immediately occur to him, that here was\nthe terrible three-headed Chim\u00e6ra. He had found out the Chim\u00e6ra\u2019s cavern.\nThe snake, the lion, and the goat, as he supposed them to be, were not\nthree separate creatures, but one monster!\n\nThe wicked, hateful thing! Slumbering as two-thirds of it were, it still\nheld, in its abominable claws, the remnant of an unfortunate lamb\u2014or\npossibly (but I hate to think so) it was a dear little boy\u2014which its\nthree mouths had been gnawing, before two of them fell asleep!\n\nAll at once, Bellerophon started as from a dream, and knew it to be the\nChim\u00e6ra. Pegasus seemed to know it, at the same instant, and sent forth a\nneigh, that sounded like the call of a trumpet to battle. At this sound\nthe three heads reared themselves erect, and belched out great flashes\nof flame. Before Bellerophon had time to consider what to do next, the\nmonster flung itself out of the cavern and sprang straight toward him,\nwith its immense claws extended, and its snaky tail twisting itself\nvenomously behind. If Pegasus had not been as nimble as a bird, both he\nand his rider would have been overthrown by the Chim\u00e6ra\u2019s headlong rush,\nand thus the battle have been ended before it was well begun. But the\nwinged horse was not to be caught so. In the twinkling of an eye he was\nup and aloft, half-way to the clouds, snorting with anger. He shuddered,\ntoo, not with affright, but with utter disgust at the loathsomeness of\nthis poisonous thing with three heads.\n\nThe Chim\u00e6ra, on the other hand, raised itself up so as to stand\nabsolutely on the tip-end of its tail, with its talons pawing fiercely in\nthe air, and its three heads spluttering fire at Pegasus and his rider.\nMy stars, how it roared, and hissed and bellowed! Bellerophon, meanwhile,\nwas fitting his shield on his arm, and drawing his sword.\n\n\u201cNow, my beloved Pegasus,\u201d he whispered in the winged horse\u2019s ear, \u201cthou\nmust help me to slay this insufferable monster; or else thou shalt fly\nback to thy solitary mountain-peak without thy friend Bellerophon. For\neither the Chim\u00e6ra dies, or its three mouths shall gnaw this head of\nmine, which has slumbered upon thy neck!\u201d\n\nPegasus whinnied, and, turning back his head, rubbed his nose tenderly\nagainst his rider\u2019s cheek. It was his way of telling him that, though\nhe had wings and was an immortal horse, yet he would perish, if it were\npossible for immortality to perish, rather than leave Bellerophon behind.\n\n\u201cI thank you, Pegasus,\u201d answered Bellerophon. \u201cNow, then, let us make a\ndash at the monster!\u201d\n\nUttering these words, he shook the bridle; and Pegasus darted down\naslant, as swift as the flight of an arrow, right toward the Chim\u00e6ra\u2019s\nthreefold head, which, all this time, was poking itself as high as it\ncould into the air. As he came within arm\u2019s-length, Bellerophon made a\ncut at the monster, but was carried onward by his steed, before he could\nsee whether the blow had been successful. Pegasus continued his course,\nbut soon wheeled round, at about the same distance from the Chim\u00e6ra as\nbefore. Bellerophon then perceived that he had cut the goat\u2019s head of the\nmonster almost off, so that it dangled downward by the skin, and seemed\nquite dead.\n\nBut, to make amends, the snake\u2019s head and the lion\u2019s head had taken all\nthe fierceness of the dead one into themselves, and spit flame, and\nhissed, and roared, with a vast deal more fury than before.\n\n\u201cNever mind, my brave Pegasus!\u201d cried Bellerophon. \u201cWith another stroke\nlike that, we will stop either its hissing or its roaring.\u201d\n\nAnd again he shook the bridle. Dashing aslantwise, as before, the winged\nhorse made another arrow-flight toward the Chim\u00e6ra, and Bellerophon aimed\nanother downright stroke at one of the two remaining heads, as he shot\nby. But this time, neither he nor Pegasus escaped so well as at first.\nWith one of its claws, the Chim\u00e6ra had given the young man a deep scratch\nin his shoulder, and had slightly damaged the left wing of the flying\nsteed with the other. On his part, Bellerophon had mortally wounded the\nlion\u2019s head of the monster, insomuch that it now hung downward, with its\nfire almost extinguished, and sending out gasps of thick black smoke.\nThe snake\u2019s head, however (which was the only one now left), was twice\nas fierce and venomous as ever before. It belched forth shoots of fire\nfive hundred yards long, and emitted hisses so loud, so harsh, and so\near-piercing, that King Iobates heard them, fifty miles off, and trembled\ntill the throne shook under him.\n\n\u201cWell-a-day!\u201d thought the poor king; \u201cthe Chim\u00e6ra is certainly coming to\ndevour me!\u201d\n\nMeanwhile Pegasus had again paused in the air, and neighed angrily, while\nsparkles of a pure crystal flame darted out of his eyes. How unlike the\nlurid fire of the Chim\u00e6ra! The a\u00ebrial steed\u2019s spirit was all aroused, and\nso was that of Bellerophon.\n\n\u201cDost thou bleed, my immortal horse?\u201d cried the young man, caring less\nfor his own hurt than for the anguish of this glorious creature, that\nought never to have tasted pain. \u201cThe execrable Chim\u00e6ra shall pay for\nthis mischief with his last head!\u201d\n\nThen he shook the bridle, shouted loudly, and guided Pegasus, not\naslantwise as before, but straight at the monster\u2019s hideous front. So\nrapid was the onset, that it seemed but a dazzle and a flash before\nBellerophon was at close gripes with his enemy.\n\nThe Chim\u00e6ra, by this time, after losing its second head, had got into a\nred-hot passion of pain and rampant rage. It so flounced about, half on\nearth and partly in the air, that it was impossible to say which element\nit rested upon. It opened its snake-jaws to such an abominable width,\nthat Pegasus might almost, I was going to say, have flown right down its\nthroat, wings outspread, rider and all! At their approach it shot out a\ntremendous blast of its fiery breath, and enveloped Bellerophon and his\nsteed in a perfect atmosphere of flame, singeing the wings of Pegasus,\nscorching off one whole side of the young man\u2019s golden ringlets, and\nmaking them both far hotter than was comfortable, from head to foot.\n\nBut this was nothing to what followed.\n\nWhen the airy rush of the winged horse had brought him within the\ndistance of one hundred yards, the Chim\u00e6ra gave a spring, and flung its\nhuge, awkward, venomous, and utterly detestable carcass right upon poor\nPegasus, clung around him with might and main, and tied up its snaky tail\ninto a knot! Up flew the a\u00ebrial steed, higher, higher, higher, above the\nmountain-peaks, above the clouds, and almost out of sight of the solid\nearth. But still the earth-born monster kept its hold, and was borne\nupward, along with the creature of light and air. Bellerophon, meanwhile,\nturning about, found himself face to face with the ugly grimness of the\nChim\u00e6ra\u2019s visage, and could only avoid being scorched to death, or bitten\nright in twain, by holding up his shield. Over the upper edge of the\nshield, he looked sternly into the savage eyes of the monster.\n\nBut the Chim\u00e6ra was so mad and wild with pain, that it did not guard\nitself so well as might else have been the case. Perhaps, after all, the\nbest way to fight a Chim\u00e6ra is by getting as close to it as you can. In\nits efforts to stick its horrible iron claws into its enemy, the creature\nleft its own breast quite exposed; and perceiving this, Bellerophon\nthrust his sword up to the hilt into its cruel heart. Immediately the\nsnaky tail untied its knot. The monster let go its hold of Pegasus, and\nfell from that vast height downward; while the fire within its bosom,\ninstead of being put out, burned fiercer than ever, and quickly began\nto consume the dead carcass. Thus it fell out of the sky, all aflame,\nand (it being nightfall before it reached the earth) was mistaken for\na shooting star or a comet. But, at early sunrise, some cottagers were\ngoing to their day\u2019s labor, and saw, to their astonishment, that several\nacres of ground were strewn with black ashes. In the middle of a field,\nthere was a heap of whitened bones, a great deal higher than a haystack.\nNothing else was ever seen of the dreadful Chim\u00e6ra!\n\nAnd when Bellerophon had won the victory, he bent forward and kissed\nPegasus, while the tears stood in his eyes.\n\n\u201cBack now, my beloved steed!\u201d said he. \u201cBack to the Fountain of Pirene!\u201d\n\nPegasus skimmed through the air, quicker than ever he did before, and\nreached the fountain in a very short time. And there he found the old man\nleaning on his staff, and the country fellow watering his cow, and the\npretty maiden filling her pitcher.\n\n\u201cI remember now,\u201d quoth the old man, \u201cI saw this winged horse once\nbefore, when I was quite a lad. But he was ten times handsomer in those\ndays.\u201d\n\n\u201cI own a cart-horse, worth three of him!\u201d said the country fellow. \u201cIf\nthis pony were mine, the first thing I should do would be to clip his\nwings!\u201d\n\nBut the poor maiden said nothing, for she had always the luck to be\nafraid at the wrong time. So she ran away, and let her pitcher tumble\ndown, and broke it.\n\n\u201cWhere is the gentle child,\u201d asked Bellerophon, \u201cwho used to keep me\ncompany, and never lost his faith, and never was weary of gazing into the\nfountain?\u201d\n\n\u201cHere am I, dear Bellerophon!\u201d said the child, softly.\n\nFor the little boy had spent day after day, on the margin of Pirene,\nwaiting for his friend to come back; but when he perceived Bellerophon\ndescending through the clouds, mounted on the winged horse, he had shrunk\nback into the shrubbery. He was a delicate and tender child, and dreaded\nlest the old man and the country fellow should see the tears gushing from\nhis eyes.\n\n\u201cThou hast won the victory,\u201d said he, joyfully, running to the knee of\nBellerophon, who still sat on the back of Pegasus. \u201cI knew thou wouldst.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, dear child!\u201d replied Bellerophon, alighting from the winged\nhorse. \u201cBut if thy faith had not helped me, I should never have waited\nfor Pegasus, and never have gone up above the clouds, and never have\nconquered the terrible Chim\u00e6ra. Thou, my beloved little friend, hast done\nit all. And now let us give Pegasus his liberty.\u201d\n\nSo he slipped off the enchanted bridle from the head of the marvellous\nsteed.\n\n\u201cBe free, for evermore, my Pegasus!\u201d cried he, with a shade of sadness in\nhis tone. \u201cBe as free as thou art fleet!\u201d\n\nBut Pegasus rested his head on Bellerophon\u2019s shoulder, and would not be\npersuaded to take flight.\n\n\u201cWell then,\u201d said Bellerophon, caressing the airy horse, \u201cthou shalt be\nwith me, as long as thou wilt; and we will go together, forthwith, and\ntell King Iobates that the Chim\u00e6ra is destroyed.\u201d\n\nThen Bellerophon embraced the gentle child, and promised to come to him\nagain, and departed. But, in after years, that child took higher flights\nupon the a\u00ebrial steed than ever did Bellerophon, and achieved more\nhonorable deeds than his friend\u2019s victory over the Chim\u00e6ra. For, gentle\nand tender as he was, he grew to be a mighty poet!\n\n\n\n\nTHE HEROES SAIL AWAY IN SEARCH OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE\n\nBy Charles Kingsley\n\n\nThis is a tale of heroes who sailed away into a distant land to win\nthemselves renown forever, in the adventure of the Golden Fleece. Whither\nthey sailed, my children, I cannot clearly tell. It all happened long\nago; so long that it has all grown dim, like a dream which you dreamed\nlast year. And why they went I cannot tell: some say that it was to win\ngold. It may be so; but the noblest deeds which have been done on earth\nhave not been done for gold.\n\nThe Spartans looked for no reward in money when they fought and died at\nThermopyl\u00e6; and Socrates the wise asked no pay from his countrymen, but\nlived poor and barefoot all his days, only caring to make men good. And\nthere are heroes in our days also, who do noble deeds, but not for gold.\nOur discoverers did not go to make themselves rich when they sailed out\none after another into the dreary frozen seas.\n\nTherefore we will believe\u2014why should we not?\u2014of these same Argonauts of\nold, that they too were noble men, who planned and did a noble deed; and\nthat therefore their fame has lived, and been told in story and in song,\nmixed up, no doubt, with dreams and fables, and yet true and right at\nheart. So we will honor these old Argonauts, and listen to their story as\nit stands; and we will try to be like them, each of us in our place; for\neach of us has a Golden Fleece to seek, and a wild sea to sail over ere\nwe reach it, and dragons to fight ere it be ours.\n\nAnd what was that first Golden Fleece? I do not know, nor care. The old\nGreeks said that it hung in Colchis, which we call the Circassian coast,\nnailed to a beech-tree in the War-god\u2019s wood; and that it was the fleece\nof the wondrous ram who bore Phrixus and Helle across the Black Sea. For\nPhrixus and Helle were the children of the cloud-nymph, and of Athamas\nthe Minuan king. And when a famine came upon the land, their cruel\nstepmother Ino wished to kill them, that her own children might reign,\nand said that they must be sacrificed on an altar, to turn away the anger\nof the gods. So the poor children were brought to the altar, and the\npriest stood ready with his knife, when out of the clouds came the Golden\nRam, and took them on his back, and vanished. Then madness came upon that\nfoolish king, Athamas, and ruin upon Ino and her children. For Athamas\nkilled one of them in his fury; and Ino fled from him with the other in\nher arms, and leaped from a cliff into the sea, and was changed into a\ndolphin, such as you have seen, which wanders over the waves forever\nsighing, with its little one clasped to its breast.\n\nBut the people drove out King Athamas, because he had killed his child;\nand he roamed about in his misery, till he came to the Oracle in Delphi.\nAnd the Oracle told him that he must wander for his sin, till the wild\nbeasts should feast him as their guest. So he went on in hunger and\nsorrow for many a weary day, till he saw a pack of wolves. The wolves\nwere tearing a sheep; but when they saw Athamas they fled, and left the\nsheep for him, and he ate of it; and then he knew that the oracle was\nfulfilled at last. So he wandered no more; but settled, and built a town,\nand became a king again.\n\nBut the ram carried the two children far away over land and sea, till he\ncame to the Thracian Chersonese, and there Helle fell into the sea. So\nthose narrow straits are called \u201cHellespont,\u201d after her; and they bear\nthat name until this day.\n\nThen the ram flew on with Phrixus to the north-east across the sea which\nwe call the Black Sea now; but the Greeks call it Euxine. And at last,\nthey say, he stopped at Colchis, on the steep Circassian coast; and there\nPhrixus married Chaleiope, the daughter of Aietes the king; and offered\nthe ram in sacrifice; and Aietes nailed the ram\u2019s fleece to a beech, in\nthe grove of Mars the War-god.\n\nAfter a while Phrixus died, and was buried, but his spirit had no rest;\nfor he was buried far from his native land, and the pleasant hills of\nGreece. So he came in dreams to the heroes of the Minuai, and called\nsadly by their beds, \u201cCome and set my spirit free, that I may go home to\nmy fathers and to my kinsfolk, and the pleasant Minuan land.\u201d\n\nAnd they asked, \u201cHow shall we set your spirit free?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must sail over the sea to Colchis, and bring home the Golden Fleece;\nand then my spirit will come back with it, and I shall sleep with my\nfathers and have rest.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: ON THE BANK OF ANAUROS SAT A WOMAN, ALL WRINKLED, GRAY AND\nOLD\u2014page 90\n\n_From the painting by T. H. Robinson_]\n\nOften he came thus, and called to them, but when they awoke they looked\nat each other, and said, \u201cWho dare sail to Colchis, or bring home the\nGolden Fleece?\u201d And in all the country none was brave enough to try it;\nfor the man and the time were not come.\n\nPhrixus had a cousin called \u00c6son, who was king in Iolcos by the sea.\nThere he ruled over the rich Minuan heroes, as Athamas his uncle ruled\nin B\u0153otia; and, like Athamas, he was an unhappy man. For he had a\nstepbrother named Pelias, of whom some said that he was a nymph\u2019s son,\nand there were dark and sad tales about his birth. When he was a babe\nhe was cast out on the mountains, and a wild mare came by and kicked\nhim. But a shepherd passing found the baby, with its face all blackened\nby the blow; and took him home, and called him Pelias, because his face\nwas bruised and black. And he grew up fierce and lawless, and did many a\nfearful deed; and at last he drove out \u00c6son his stepbrother, and then his\nown brother Neleus, and took the kingdom to himself, and ruled over the\nrich Minuan heroes, in Iolcos by the sea.\n\nAnd \u00c6son, when he was driven out, went sadly away out of the town,\nleading his little son by the hand; and he said to himself, \u201cI must hide\nthe child in the mountains; or Pelias will surely kill him, because he is\nthe heir.\u201d\n\nSo he went up from the sea across the valley, through the vineyards and\nthe olive groves, and across the torrent of Anauros, toward Pelion, the\nancient mountain, whose brows are white with snow.\n\nHe went up and up into the mountain, over marsh, and crag, and down, till\nthe boy was tired and footsore, and \u00c6son had to bear him in his arms,\ntill he came to the mouth of a lonely cave, at the foot of a mighty cliff.\n\nAbove the cliff the snow-wreaths hung, dripping and cracking in the sun;\nbut at its foot around the cave\u2019s mouth grew all fair flowers and herbs,\nas if in a garden, ranged in order, each sort by itself. There they grew\ngaily in the sunshine, and the spray of the torrent from above; while\nfrom the cave came the sound of music, and a man\u2019s voice singing to the\nharp.\n\nThen \u00c6son put down the lad, and whispered: \u201cFear not, but go in, and\nwhomsoever you shall find, lay your hands upon his knees and say, \u2018In the\nname of Jupiter, the father of gods and men, I am your guest from this\nday forth.\u2019\u201d\n\nThen the lad went in without trembling, for he too was a hero\u2019s son; but\nwhen he was within, he stopped in wonder to listen to that magic song.\n\nAnd there he saw the singer lying upon bear-skins and fragrant boughs:\nChiron, the ancient Centaur, the wisest of all things beneath the sky.\nDown to the waist he was a man, but below he was a noble horse; his white\nhair rolled down over his broad shoulders, and his white beard over his\nbroad brown chest; and his eyes were wise and mild, and his forehead like\na mountain wall.\n\nAnd in his hands he held a harp of gold, and struck it with a golden key;\nand as he struck, he sang till his eyes glittered, and filled all the\ncave with light.\n\nAnd he sang of the birth of Time, and of the heavens and the dancing\nstars; of the ocean, and the ether, and the fire, and the shaping of the\nwondrous earth. And he sang of the treasures of the hills, and the hidden\njewels of the mine, and the veins of fire and metal, and the virtues of\nall healing herbs, and of the speech of birds, and of prophecy, and of\nhidden things to come.\n\nThen he sang of health, and strength, and manhood, and a valiant heart;\nand of music, and hunting, and wrestling, and all the games which heroes\nlove; and of travel, and wars, and sieges, and a noble death in fight;\nand then he sang of peace and plenty, and of equal justice in the land;\nand as he sang the boy listened wide-eyed, and forgot his errand in the\nsong.\n\nAnd at the last old Chiron was silent, and called the lad with a soft\nvoice. And the lad ran trembling to him, and would have laid his hands\nupon his knees; but Chiron smiled, and said, \u201cCall hither your father\n\u00c6son, for I know you, and all that has befallen, and saw you both afar in\nthe valley, even before you left the town.\u201d\n\nThen \u00c6son came in sadly, and Chiron asked him, \u201cWhy camest you not\nyourself to me, \u00c6son the \u00c6olid?\u201d\n\nAnd \u00c6son said: \u201cI thought, Chiron will pity the lad if he sees him come\nalone; and I wished to try whether he was fearless, and dare venture like\na hero\u2019s son. But now I entreat you by Father Jupiter, let the boy be\nyour guest till better times, and train him among the sons of the heroes,\nthat he may avenge his father\u2019s house.\u201d\n\nThen Chiron smiled, and drew the lad to him, and laid his hand upon his\ngolden locks, and said, \u201cAre you afraid of my horse\u2019s hoofs, fair boy, or\nwill you be my pupil from this day?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would gladly have horse\u2019s hoofs like you, if I could sing such songs\nas yours.\u201d\n\nAnd Chiron laughed, and said, \u201cSit here by me till sundown, when your\nplayfellows will come home, and you shall learn like them to be a king,\nworthy to rule over gallant men.\u201d\n\nThen he turned to \u00c6son, and said, \u201cGo back in peace, and bend before the\nstorm like a prudent man. This boy shall not cross the Anauros again,\ntill he has become a glory to you and to the house of \u00c6olus.\u201d\n\nAnd \u00c6son wept over his son and went away; but the boy did not weep, so\nfull was his fancy of that strange cave, and the Centaur, and his song,\nand the playfellows whom he was to see.\n\nThen Chiron put the lyre into his hands, and taught him how to play it,\ntill the sun sank low behind the cliff, and a shout was heard outside.\n\nAnd then in came the sons of the heroes, \u00c6neas, and Hercules, and Peleus,\nand many another mighty name. And great Chiron leaped up joyfully, and\nhis hoofs made the cave resound, as they shouted, \u201cCome out, Father\nChiron; come out and see our game.\u201d And one cried, \u201cI have killed two\ndeer\u201d; and another, \u201cI took a wildcat among the crags\u201d; and Hercules\ndragged a wild goat after him by its horns, for he was as huge as a\nmountain crag; and C\u0153neus carried a bear-cub under each arm, and laughed\nwhen they scratched and bit, for neither tooth nor steel could wound\nhim. And Chiron praised them all, each according to his deserts.\n\nOnly one walked apart and silent, \u00c6sculapius, the too-wise child,\ncarrying herbs and flowers, and round his wrist a spotted snake; he came\nwith downcast eyes to Chiron, and whispered how he had watched the snake\ncast its old skin, and grow young again before his eyes, and how he had\ngone down into a village in the vale, and cured a dying man with a herb\nwhich he had seen a sick goat eat.\n\nAnd Chiron smiled, and said, \u201cTo each Minerva and Apollo gave some gift,\nand each is worthy in his place; but to this child they have given an\nhonor beyond all honors, to cure while others kill.\u201d\n\nThen the lads brought in wood and split it, and lighted a blazing fire;\nand others skinned the deer and quartered them, and set them to roast\nbefore the fire; and while the venison was cooking they bathed in the\nsnow torrent, and washed away the dust and sweat.\n\nAnd then all ate till they could eat no more (for they had tasted nothing\nsince the dawn), and drank of the clear spring water. And when the\nremnants were put away, they all lay down upon the skins and leaves about\nthe fire, and each took the lyre in turn, and sang and played with all\nhis heart.\n\nAfter a while they all went out to a plot of grass at the cave\u2019s mouth,\nand there they boxed, and ran, and wrestled, and laughed till the stones\nfell from the cliffs.\n\nThen Chiron took his lyre, and all the lads joined hands; and as he\nplayed, they danced to his measure, in and out, and round and round.\nThere they danced hand in hand, till the night fell over land and sea,\nwhile the black glen shone with their broad white limbs and the gleam of\ntheir golden hair.\n\nAnd the lad danced with them, delighted, and then slept a wholesome\nsleep, upon fragrant leaves of bay, and myrtle, and marjoram, and flowers\nof thyme; and rose at the dawn, and bathed in the torrent, and became a\nschool-fellow to the heroes\u2019 sons, and forgot Iolcos, and his father, and\nall his former life. But he grew strong, and brave, and cunning, upon the\npleasant downs of Pelion, in the keen hungry mountain air. And he learned\nto wrestle, and to box, and to hunt, and to play upon the harp; and next\nhe learned to ride, for old Chiron used to mount him on his back; and he\nlearned the virtues of all herbs, and how to cure all wounds; and Chiron\ncalled him Jason the healer, and that is his name until this day.\n\n\n\n\nHOW JASON LOST HIS SANDAL\n\nBy Charles Kingsley\n\n\nTen years came and went, and Jason was grown to be a mighty man. Some of\nhis fellows were gone, and some were growing up by his side. \u00c6sculapius\nwas gone into Peloponnesus to work his wondrous cures on men; and some\nsay he used to raise the dead to life. And Hercules was gone to Thebes to\nfulfil those famous labors which have become a proverb among men. Peleus\nhad married a sea-nymph, and his wedding is famous to this day. And \u00c6neas\nwas gone home to Troy, and many a noble tale you will read of him, and of\nall the other gallant heroes, the scholars of Chiron the just.\n\nNow it happened on a day that Jason stood on the mountain, and looked\nnorth and south and east and west; and Chiron stood by him and watched\nhim, for he knew that the time was come. And Jason looked and saw the\nplains of Thessaly, where the Lapith\u00e6 breed their horses; and the lake\nof Boib\u00e9, and the stream which runs northward to Peneus and Tempe; and\nhe looked north, and saw the mountain wall which guards the Magnesian\nshore; Olympus, the seat of the Immortals, and Ossa, and Pelion, where he\nstood. Then he looked east and saw the bright blue sea, which stretched\naway forever toward the dawn. Then he looked south, and saw a pleasant\nland, with white-walled towns and farms, nestling along the shore of a\nland-locked bay, while the smoke rose blue among the trees; and he knew\nit for the bay of Pagasai, and the rich lowlands of H\u00e6monia, and Iolcos\nby the sea.\n\nThen he sighed, and asked, \u201cIs it true what the heroes tell me\u2014that I am\nheir of that fair land?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what good would it be to you, Jason, if you were heir of that fair\nland?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would take it and keep it.\u201d\n\n\u201cA strong man has taken it and kept it long. Are you stronger than Pelias\nthe terrible?\u201d\n\n\u201cI can try my strength with his,\u201d said Jason; but Chiron sighed, and said:\n\n\u201cYou have many a danger to go through before you rule in Iolcos by the\nsea: many a danger and many a woe; and strange troubles in strange lands,\nsuch as man never saw before.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe happier I,\u201d said Jason, \u201cto see what man never saw before.\u201d\n\nAnd Chiron sighed again, and said, \u201cThe eaglet must leave the nest\nwhen it is fledged. Will you go to Iolcos by the sea? Then promise me\ntwo things before you go.\u201d Jason promised, and Chiron answered, \u201cSpeak\nharshly to no soul whom you may meet, and stand by the word which you\nshall speak.\u201d\n\nJason wondered why Chiron asked this of him; but he knew that the Centaur\nwas a prophet, and saw things long before they came. So he promised, and\nleaped down the mountain, to take his fortune like a man. He went down\nthrough the arbutus thickets, and across the downs of thyme, till he came\nto the vineyard walls, and the pomegranates and the olives in the glen;\nand among the olives roared Anauros, all foaming with a summer flood.\n\nAnd on the bank of Anauros sat a woman, all wrinkled, gray, and old, her\nhead shook palsied on her breast, and her hands shook palsied on her\nknees; and when she saw Jason, she spoke whining, \u201cWho will carry me\nacross the flood?\u201d\n\nJason was bold and hasty, and was just going to leap into the flood: and\nyet he thought twice before he leaped, so loud roared the torrent down,\nall brown from the mountain rains, and silver-veined with melting snow;\nwhile underneath he could hear the bowlders rumbling like the tramp of\nhorsemen or the roll of wheels, as they ground along the narrow channel,\nand shook the rocks on which he stood.\n\nBut the old woman whined all the more, \u201cI am weak and old, fair youth.\nFor Juno\u2019s sake, carry me over the torrent.\u201d\n\nAnd Jason was going to answer her scornfully, when Chiron\u2019s words came\nto his mind. So he said, \u201cFor Juno\u2019s sake, the Queen of the Immortals on\nOlympus, I will carry you over the torrent, unless we both are drowned\nmidway.\u201d\n\nThen the old dame leaped upon his back, as nimbly as a goat; and Jason\nstaggered in, wondering; and the first step was up to his knees. The\nfirst step was up to his knees, and the second step was up to his waist;\nand the stones rolled about his feet, and his feet slipped about the\nstones; so he went on staggering and panting, while the old woman cried\nfrom off his back: \u201cFool, you have wet my mantle! Do you make game of\npoor old souls like me?\u201d\n\nJason had half a mind to drop her, and let her get through the torrent\nby herself; but Chiron\u2019s words were in his mind, and he said only,\n\u201cPatience, mother; the best horse may stumble some day.\u201d\n\nAt last he staggered to the shore, and set her down upon the bank; and a\nstrong man he needed to have been or that wild water he never would have\ncrossed.\n\nHe lay panting awhile upon the bank, and then leaped up to go upon his\njourney; but he cast one look at the old woman, for he thought, \u201cShe\nshould thank me once at least.\u201d And as he looked, she grew fairer than\nall women, and taller than all men on earth; and her garments shone like\nthe summer sea, and her jewels like the stars of heaven; and over her\nforehead was a veil, woven of the golden clouds of sunset; and through\nthe veil she looked down on him, with great soft heifer\u2019s eyes; with\ngreat eyes, mild and awful, which filled all the glen with light. And\nJason fell upon his knees, and hid his face between his hands.\n\nAnd she spoke, \u201cI am the Queen of Olympus, Juno the wife of Jupiter. As\nthou hast done to me, so will I do to thee. Call on me in the hour of\nneed, and try if the Immortals can forget.\u201d\n\nAnd when Jason looked up, she rose from off the earth, like a pillar\nof tall white cloud, and floated away across the mountain peaks toward\nOlympus, the holy hill.\n\nThen a great fear fell on Jason: but after a while he grew light of\nheart; and he blessed old Chiron, and said, \u201cSurely the Centaur is a\nprophet, and guessed what would come to pass, when he bade me speak\nharshly to no soul whom I might meet.\u201d\n\nThen he went down toward Iolcos; and as he walked he found that he had\nlost one of his sandals in the flood. And as he went through the streets,\nthe people came out to look at him, so tall and fair was he; but some of\nthe elders whispered together; and at last one of them stopped Jason, and\ncalled to him, \u201cFair lad, who are you, and whence come you; and what is\nyour errand in the town?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy name, good father, is Jason, and I come from Pelion up above; and my\nerrand is to Pelias your king; tell me then where his palace is.\u201d\n\nBut the old man started, and grew pale, and said, \u201cDo you not know the\noracle, my son, that you go so boldly through the town with but one\nsandal on?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am a stranger here and know of no oracle; but what of my one sandal? I\nlost the other in Anauros, while I was struggling with the flood.\u201d\n\nThen the old man looked back to his companions: and one sighed, and\nanother smiled; at last he said, \u201cI will tell you, lest you rush upon\nyour ruin unawares. The oracle in Delphi has said that a man wearing one\nsandal should take the kingdom from Pelias, and keep it for himself.\nTherefore beware how you go up to his palace, for he is the fiercest and\nmost cunning of all kings.\u201d\n\nThen Jason laughed a great laugh, like a war-horse in his pride. \u201cGood\nnews, good father, both for you and me. For that very end I came into\nthe town.\u201d Then he strode on toward the palace of Pelias, while all the\npeople wondered at his bearing.\n\nAnd he stood in the doorway and cried, \u201cCome out, come out, Pelias the\nvaliant, and fight for your kingdom like a man.\u201d\n\nPelias came out wondering, and \u201cWho are you, bold youth?\u201d he cried.\n\n\u201cI am Jason, the son of \u00c6son, the heir of all this land.\u201d\n\nThen Pelias lifted up his hands and eyes, and wept, or seemed to weep;\nand blessed the heavens which had brought his nephew to him, never to\nleave him more. \u201cFor,\u201d said he, \u201cI have but three daughters, and no son\nto be my heir. You shall be my heir then, and rule the kingdom after me,\nand marry whichsoever of my daughters you shall choose; though a sad\nkingdom you will find it, and whosoever rules it a miserable man. But\ncome in, come in, and feast.\u201d\n\nSo he drew Jason in, whether he would or not, and spoke to him so\nlovingly and feasted him so well, that Jason\u2019s anger passed; and after\nsupper his three cousins came into the hall, and Jason thought that he\nshould like well enough to have one of them for his wife.\n\nBut at last he said to Pelias, \u201cWhy do you look so sad, my uncle? And\nwhat did you mean just now when you said that this was a doleful kingdom,\nand its ruler a miserable man?\u201d\n\nPelias sighed heavily again and again and again, like a man who had to\ntell some dreadful story, and was afraid to begin; but at last\u2014\u201cFor seven\nlong years and more have I never known a quiet night; and no more will\nhe who comes after me, till the Golden Fleece be brought home.\u201d Then he\ntold Jason the story of Phrixus, and of the Golden Fleece; and told him,\ntoo, which was a lie, that Phrixus\u2019 spirit tormented him, calling to him\nday and night. And his daughters came, and told the same tale (for their\nfather had taught them their parts), and wept, and said, \u201cOh who will\nbring home the Golden Fleece, that our uncle\u2019s spirit may rest; and that\nwe may have rest also, whom he never lets sleep in peace?\u201d\n\nJason sat awhile, sad and silent; for he had often heard of that Golden\nFleece; but he looked on it as a thing hopeless and impossible for any\nmortal man to win.\n\nBut when Pelias saw him silent, he began to talk of other things, and\ncourted Jason more and more, speaking to him as if he was certain to be\nhis heir, and asking his advice about the kingdom; till Jason, who was\nyoung and simple, could not help saying to himself, \u201cSurely he is not the\ndark man whom people call him. Yet why did he drive my father out?\u201d\n\nAnd he asked Pelias boldly, \u201cMen say that you are terrible, and a man of\nblood; but I find you a kind and hospitable man; and as you are to me, so\nwill I be to you. Yet why did you drive my father out?\u201d\n\nPelias smiled, and sighed. \u201cMen have slandered me in that, as in all\nthings. Your father was growing old and weary, and he gave the kingdom up\nto me of his own will. You shall see him to-morrow, and ask him; and he\nwill tell you the same.\u201d\n\nJason\u2019s heart leaped in him when he heard that he was to see his father;\nand he believed all that Pelias said, forgetting that his father might\nnot dare to tell the truth.\n\n\u201cOne thing more there is,\u201d said Pelias, \u201con which I need your advice;\nfor, though you are young, I see in you wisdom beyond your years. There\nis one neighbor of mine, whom I dread more than all men on earth. I am\nstronger than he now, and can command him; but I know that if he stay\namong us, he will work my ruin in the end. Can you give me a plan, Jason,\nby which I can rid myself of that man?\u201d\n\nAfter a while Jason answered, half laughing, \u201cWere I you, I would send\nhim to fetch that same Golden Fleece; for if he once set forth after it\nyou would never be troubled with him more.\u201d\n\nA bitter smile came across Pelias\u2019 lips, and a flash of wicked joy into\nhis eyes; and Jason saw it, and started; and over his mind came the\nwarning of the old man, and his own one sandal, and the oracle, and he\nsaw that he was taken in a trap. But Pelias only answered gently, \u201cMy\nson, he shall be sent forthwith.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean me?\u201d cried Jason, starting up, \u201cbecause I came here with one\nsandal?\u201d And he lifted his fist angrily, while Pelias stood up to him\nlike a wolf at bay; and whether of the two was the stronger and the\nfiercer it would be hard to tell.\n\nBut after a moment Pelias spoke gently, \u201cWhy then so rash, my son? You,\nand not I, have said what is said; why blame me for what I have not done?\nHad you bid me love the man of whom I spoke, and make him my son-in-law\nand heir, I would have obeyed you; and what if I obey you now, and send\nthe man to win himself immortal fame? I have not harmed you, or him. One\nthing at least I know, that he will go, and that gladly; for he has a\nhero\u2019s heart within him, loving glory, and scorning to break the word\nwhich he has given.\u201d\n\nJason saw that he was entrapped; but his second promise to Chiron came\ninto his mind, and he thought, \u201cWhat if the Centaur were a prophet in\nthat also, and meant that I should win the fleece!\u201d Then he cried aloud:\n\u201cYou have well spoken, cunning uncle of mine! I love glory, and I dare\nkeep to my word. I will go and fetch this Golden Fleece. Promise me\nbut this in return, and keep your word as I keep mine. Treat my father\nlovingly while I am gone, for the sake of all-seeing Jupiter, and give\nme up the kingdom for my own on the day that I bring back the Golden\nFleece.\u201d\n\nThen Pelias looked at him and almost loved him, in the midst of all his\nhate; and said, \u201cI promise, and I will perform. It will be no shame to\ngive up my kingdom to the man who wins that fleece.\u201d\n\nThen they swore a great oath between them, and afterward both went in,\nand lay down to sleep.\n\nBut Jason could not sleep for thinking of his mighty oath, and how he\nwas to fulfil it, all alone, and without wealth or friends. So he tossed\na long time upon his bed, and thought of this plan and of that; and\nsometimes Phrixus seemed to call him, in a thin voice, faint and low, as\nif it came from far across the sea, \u201cLet me come home to my fathers and\nhave rest.\u201d And sometimes he seemed to see the eyes of Juno, and to hear\nher words again\u2014\u201cCall on me in the hour of need, and see if the Immortals\ncan forget.\u201d\n\nAnd on the morrow he went to Pelias, and said, \u201cGive me a victim, that I\nmay sacrifice to Juno.\u201d So he went up, and offered his sacrifice; and as\nhe stood by the altar Juno sent a thought into his mind; and he went back\nto Pelias, and said:\n\n\u201cIf you are indeed in earnest, give me two heralds, that they may go\nround to all the princes of the Minuai, who were pupils of the Centaur\nwith me, that we may fit out a ship together, and take what shall befall.\u201d\n\nAt that Pelias praised his wisdom, and hastened to send the heralds out;\nfor he said in his heart, \u201cLet all the princes go with him, and, like\nhim, never return; for so I shall be lord of all the Minuai, and the\ngreatest king in Greece.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nHOW THEY BUILT THE SHIP \u201cARGO\u201d\n\nBy Charles Kingsley\n\nSo the heralds went out, and cried to all the heroes of the Minuai, \u201cWho\ndare come to the adventure of the Golden Fleece?\u201d\n\nAnd Juno stirred the hearts of all the princes, and they came from all\ntheir valleys to the yellow sands of Pagasai. And first came Hercules,\nthe mighty, with his lion\u2019s skin and club, and behind him Hylas his\nyoung squire, who bore his arrows and his bow; and Tiphys, the skilful\nsteersman; and Butes, the fairest of all men; and Castor and Pollux the\ntwins, the sons of the magic swan; and C\u00e6neus, the strongest of mortals;\nand thither came Zetes and Calais, the winged sons of the North Wind; and\nPeleus, the father of Achilles, whose bride was silver-footed Thetis,\nthe goddess of the Sea. And thither came Telamon and Oileus, the fathers\nof the two Aiantes, who fought upon the plains of Troy; and Mopsus,\nthe wise soothsayer, who knew the speech of birds; and Idmon, to whom\nPh\u0153bus gave a tongue to prophesy of things to come; and Ancaios, who\ncould read the stars; and Argus, the famed shipbuilder, and many a hero\nmore, in helmets of brass and gold with tall dyed horsehair crests, and\nembroidered shirts of linen beneath their coats of mail, and greaves of\npolished tin to guard their knees in fight; with each man his shield\nupon his shoulder, of many a fold of tough bull\u2019s hide, and his sword of\ntempered bronze in his silver-studded belt; and in his right hand a pair\nof lances, of the heavy white ash-staves.\n\n[Illustration: JASON AND THE TALKING OAK\u2014page 101\n\n_From the painting by Maxfield Parrish_]\n\nSo they came down to Iolcos, and all the city came out to meet them,\nand were never tired with looking at their height, and their beauty,\nand their gallant bearing, and the glitter of their inlaid arms. And\nsome said, \u201cNever was such a gathering of the heroes since the Greeks\nconquered the land.\u201d But the women sighed over them, and whispered,\n\u201cAlas! they are all going to their death!\u201d\n\nThen they felled the pines on Pelion, and shaped them with the axe, and\nArgus taught them to build a galley, the first long ship which ever\nsailed the seas. They pierced her for fifty oars\u2014an oar for each hero of\nthe crew\u2014and pitched her with coal-black pitch, and painted her bows with\nvermilion; and they named her _Argo_ after Argus, and worked at her all\nday long. And at night Pelias feasted them like a king, and they slept in\nhis palace-porch.\n\nBut Jason went away to the northward, and into the land of Thrace, till\nhe found Orpheus, the prince of minstrels, where he dwelt in his cave\nunder Rhodope, among the savage Cicon tribes. And he asked him, \u201cWill you\nleave your mountains, Orpheus, my fellow-scholar in old times, and cross\nStrymon once more with me, to sail with the heroes of the Minuai, and\nbring home the Golden Fleece, and charm for us all men and all monsters\nwith your magic harp and song?\u201d\n\nThen Orpheus sighed, \u201cHave I not had enough of toil and of weary\nwandering far and wide since I lived in Chiron\u2019s cave, above Iolcos by\nthe sea? In vain is the skill and the voice which my goddess mother gave\nme; in vain have I sung and labored; in vain I went down to the dead,\nand charmed all the kings of Hades, to win back Eurydice my bride. For\nI won her, my beloved, and lost her again the same day, and wandered\naway in my madness, even to Egypt and the Libyan sands, and the isles of\nall the seas, driven on by the terrible gadfly, while I charmed in vain\nthe hearts of men, and the savage forest beasts, and the trees, and the\nlifeless stones, with my magic harp and song, giving rest, but finding\nnone. But at last Calliope, my mother, delivered me and brought me home\nin peace; and I dwell here in the cave alone, among the savage Cicon\ntribes, softening their wild hearts with music and the gentle laws of\nJupiter. And now I must go out again to the ends of all the earth, far\naway into the misty darkness, to the last wave of the Eastern sea. But\nwhat is doomed must be, and a friend\u2019s demand obeyed; for prayers are the\ndaughters of Jupiter, and who honors them honors him.\u201d\n\nThen Orpheus rose up sighing, and took his harp, and went over Strymon.\nAnd he led Jason to the southwest, up the banks of Haliacmon and over\nthe spurs of Pindus, to Dodona the town of Jupiter, where it stood by\nthe side of the sacred lake, and the fountain which breathed out fire,\nin the darkness of the ancient oak-wood, beneath the mountain of the\nhundred springs. And he led them to the Talking Oak, where the black dove\nsettled in old times, and was changed into the priestess of Jupiter, and\ngave oracles to all nations round. And he bade him cut down a bough, and\nsacrifice to Juno and to Jupiter, and they took the bough and came to\nIolcos, and nailed it to the beakhead of the ship.\n\nAt last the ship was finished and they tried to launch her down the\nbeach; but she was too heavy for them to move her, and her keel sank deep\ninto the sand. Then all the heroes looked at each other blushing; but\nJason spoke and said, \u201cLet us ask the magic bough; perhaps it can help us\nin our need.\u201d\n\nThen a voice came from the bough, and Jason heard the words it said, and\nbade Orpheus play upon the harp, while the heroes waited round, holding\nthe pine-trunk rollers, to help her toward the sea.\n\nSo Orpheus took his harp, and began his magic song: \u201cHow sweet it is\nto ride upon the surges, and to leap from wave to wave, while the wind\nsings cheerful in the cordage, and the oars flash fast among the foam!\nHow sweet it is to roam across the ocean, and see new towns and wondrous\nlands, and to come home laden with treasure, and to win undying fame!\u201d\n\nAnd the good ship _Argo_ heard him, and longed to be away and out at\nsea; till she stirred in every timber, and heaved from stem to stern,\nand leaped up from the sand upon the rollers, and plunged onward like\na gallant horse; and the heroes fed her path with pine-trunks, till she\nrushed into the whispering sea.\n\nThen they stored her well with food and water, and pulled the ladder up\non board, and settled themselves each man to his oar, and kept time to\nOrpheus\u2019 harp; and away across the bay they rowed southward, while the\npeople lined the cliffs; and the women wept, while the men shouted, at\nthe starting of that gallant crew.\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE ARGONAUTS SAILED TO COLCHIS\n\nBy Charles Kingsley\n\n\nWhat happened next, my children, whether it be true or not, stands\nwritten in ancient songs, which you shall read for yourselves some day.\nAnd grand old songs they are, written in grand old rolling verse; and\nthey call them the Songs of Orpheus, or the Orphics, to this day. They\ntell how the heroes came to Aphetai, across the bay, and waited for the\nsouthwest wind, and chose themselves a captain from their crew: and how\nall called for Hercules, because he was the strongest and most huge; but\nHercules refused, and called for Jason, because he was the wisest of them\nall. So Jason was chosen captain; and Orpheus heaped a pile of wood, and\nslew a bull, and offered it to Juno, and called all the heroes to stand\nround, each man\u2019s head crowned with olive, and to strike their swords\ninto the bull. Then he filled a golden goblet with the bull\u2019s blood,\nand with wheaten flour, and honey, and wine, and the bitter salt-sea\nwater, and bade the heroes taste. So each tasted the goblet, and passed\nit round, and vowed an awful vow: and they vowed before the sun, and the\nnight, and the blue-haired sea who shakes the land, to stand by Jason\nfaithfully in the adventure of the Golden Fleece; and whosoever shrank\nback, or disobeyed, or turned traitor to his vow, then justice should\nminister against him, and the Fates who track guilty men.\n\nThen Jason lighted the pile, and burned the carcass of the bull; and they\nwent to their ship and sailed eastward, like men who have a work to do;\nand the place from which they went was called Aphetai, the sailing-place\nfrom that day forth. Three thousand years and more ago they sailed away,\ninto the unknown Eastern seas, and great nations have come and gone since\nthen, and many a storm has swept the earth; many a mighty armament, to\nwhich _Argo_ would be but one small boat, English and French, Turkish\nand Russian, have sailed those waters since, yet the fame of that small\n_Argo_ lives forever, and her name is become a proverb among men.\n\nSo they sailed past the Isle of Sciathos, with the Cape of Sepius on\ntheir left, and turned to the northward toward Pelion, up the long\nMagnesian shore. On their right hand was the open sea, and on their left\nold Pelion rose, while the clouds crawled round his dark pine-forests,\nand his caps of summer snow. And their hearts yearned for the dear old\nmountain, as they thought of pleasant days gone by, and of the sports of\ntheir boyhood, their hunting, and their schooling in the cave beneath the\ncliff. At last Peleus spoke, \u201cLet us land here, friends, and climb the\ndear old hill once more. We are going on a fearful journey; who knows if\nwe shall see Pelion again? Let us go up to Chiron our master, and ask his\nblessing ere we start. And I have a boy, too, with him, whom he trains as\nhe trained me once\u2014the son whom Thetis brought me, the silver-footed lady\nof the sea, whom I caught in the cave, and tamed her, though she changed\nher shape seven times. For she changed, as I held her, into water, and to\nvapor, and to burning flame, and to a rock, and to a black-maned lion,\nand to a tall and stately tree. But I held her and held her ever, till\nshe took her own shape again, and led her to my father\u2019s house, and won\nher for my bride. And all the rulers of Olympus came to our wedding, and\nthe heavens and the earth rejoiced together, when an Immortal wedded a\nmortal man. And now let me see my son; for it is not often I shall see\nhim upon earth: famous he will be, but short-lived, and die in the flower\nof youth.\u201d\n\nSo Tiphys the helmsman steered them to the shore under the crag of\nPelion; and they went up through the dark pine-forests toward the\nCentaur\u2019s cave.\n\nAs they came into the misty hall, beneath the snow-crowned crag, they\nsaw the great Centaur lying, with his huge limbs spread upon the rocks;\nand beside him stood Achilles, the child whom no steel could wound, and\nplayed upon his harp right sweetly, while Chiron watched and smiled.\n\nThen Chiron leaped up and welcomed them, and kissed them every one, and\nset a feast before them of swine\u2019s flesh, and venison, and good wine;\nand young Achilles served them, and carried the golden goblet round. And\nafter supper all the heroes clapped their hands, and called on Orpheus\nto sing; but he refused, and said, \u201cHow can I, who am the younger, sing\nbefore our ancient host?\u201d So they called on Chiron to sing, and Achilles\nbrought him his harp; and he began a wondrous song, a famous story of\nold time, of the fight between the Centaurs and the Lapithai, which you\nmay still see carved in stone. He sang how his brothers came to ruin by\ntheir folly, when they were mad with wine; and how they and the heroes\nfought, with fists, and teeth, and the goblets from which they drank; and\nhow they tore up the pine-trees in their fury, and hurled great crags of\nstone, while the mountains thundered with the battle, and the land was\nwasted far and wide; till the Lapithai drove them from their home in the\nrich Thessalian plains to the lonely glens of Pindus, leaving Chiron all\nalone. And the heroes praised his song right heartily; for some of them\nhad helped in that great fight.\n\nThen Orpheus took the lyre, and sang of Chaos, and the making of the\nwondrous World, and how all things sprang from Love, who could not live\nalone in the Abyss. And as he sang, his voice rose from the cave, above\nthe crags, and through the tree-tops, and the glens of oak and pine.\nAnd the trees bowed their heads when they heard it, and the gray rocks\ncracked and rang, and the forest beasts crept near to listen, and the\nbirds forsook their nests and hovered round. And old Chiron clapped his\nhands together, and beat his hoofs upon the ground, for wonder at that\nmagic song.\n\nThen Peleus kissed his boy, and wept over him, and they went down to the\nship; and Chiron came down with them, weeping, and kissed them one by\none, and blessed them, and promised to them great renown. And the heroes\nwept when they left him, till their great hearts could weep no more; for\nhe was kind and just and pious, and wiser than all beasts and men. Then\nhe went up to a cliff, and prayed for them, that they might come home\nsafe and well; while the heroes rowed away, and watched him standing on\nhis cliff above the sea, with his great hands raised toward heaven, and\nhis white locks waving in the wind; and they strained their eyes to watch\nhim to the last, for they felt that they should look on him no more.\n\nSo they rowed on over the long swell of the sea, past Olympus, the seat\nof the Immortals, and past the wooded bays of Athos, and Samothrace the\nsacred isle; and they came past Lemnos to the Hellespont, and through\nthe narrow strait of Abydos, and so on into the Propontis, which we\ncall Marmora now. And there they met with Cyzicus, ruling in Asia over\nthe Dolions, who, the songs say, was the son of \u00c6neas, of whom you will\nhear many a tale some day. For Homer tells us how he fought at Troy, and\nVirgil how he sailed away and founded Rome. Now Cyzicus, the songs say,\nwelcomed the heroes, for his father had been one of Chiron\u2019s scholars;\nso he welcomed them, and feasted them, and stored their ship with corn\nand wine, and cloaks and rugs, the songs say, and shirts, of which no\ndoubt they stood in need.\n\nBut at night, while they lay sleeping, came down on them terrible men,\nwho lived with the bears in the mountains, like Titans or giants in\nshape; for each of them had six arms, and they fought with young firs and\npines. But Hercules killed them all before morn with his deadly poisoned\narrows; but among them, in the darkness, he slew Cyzicus the kindly\nprince.\n\nThen they got to their ship and to their oars, and Tiphys bade them cast\noff the hawsers and go to sea. But as he spoke a whirlwind came, and spun\nthe _Argo_ round, and twisted the hawsers together, so that no man could\nloose them. Then Tiphys dropped the rudder from his hand, and cried,\n\u201cThis comes from the gods above.\u201d But Jason went forward, and asked\ncounsel of the magic bough.\n\nThen the magic bough spoke, and answered, \u201cThis is because you have slain\nCyzicus your friend. You must appease his soul, or you will never leave\nthis shore.\u201d\n\nJason went back sadly, and told the heroes what he had heard. And they\nleaped on shore, and searched till dawn; and at dawn they found the\nbody, all rolled in dust and blood, among the corpses of those monstrous\nbeasts. And they wept over their kind host, and laid him on a fair bed,\nand heaped a huge mound over him, and offered black sheep at his tomb,\nand Orpheus sang a magic song to him, that his spirit might have rest.\nAnd then they held games at the tomb, after the custom of those times,\nand Jason gave prizes to each winner. To Anc\u00e6us he gave a golden cup,\nfor he wrestled best of all; and to Hercules, a silver one, for he was\nthe strongest of all; and to Castor, who rode best, a golden crest; and\nPollux the boxer had a rich carpet, and to Orpheus for his song a sandal\nwith golden wings. But Jason himself was the best of all the archers, and\nthe Minuai crowned him with an olive crown; and so, the songs say, the\nsoul of good Cyzicus was appeased and the heroes went on their way in\npeace.\n\nBut when Cyzicus\u2019 wife heard that he was dead she died likewise of grief;\nand her tears became a fountain of clear water, which flows the whole\nyear round.\n\nThen they rowed away, the songs say, along the Mysian shore, and past the\nmouth of Rhindacus, till they found a pleasant bay, sheltered by the long\nridges of Arganthus, and by high walls of basalt rock. There they ran the\nship ashore upon the yellow sand, and furled the sail, and took the mast\ndown, and lashed it in its crutch. And next they let down the ladder, and\nwent ashore to sport and rest.\n\nThere Hercules went away into the woods, bow in hand, to hunt wild deer;\nand Hylas the fair boy slipped away after him, and followed him by\nstealth, until he lost himself among the glens, and sat down weary to\nrest himself by the side of a lake; and there the water nymphs came up\nto look at him, and loved him, and carried him down under the lake to be\ntheir playfellow, forever happy and young. And Hercules sought for him\nin vain, shouting his name till all the mountains rang; but Hylas never\nheard him, far down under the sparkling lake. So while Hercules wandered\nsearching for him, a fair breeze sprang up, and Hercules was nowhere to\nbe found; and the _Argo_ sailed away, and Hercules was left behind, and\nnever saw the noble Phasian stream.\n\nThen the Minuai came to a doleful land, where Amycus the giant ruled, and\ncared nothing for the laws of Jupiter, but challenged all strangers to\nbox with him, and those whom he conquered he slew. But Pollux the boxer\nstruck him a harder blow than he ever felt before, and slew him; and the\nMinuai went on up the Bosphorus, till they came to the city of Phineus,\nthe fierce Bithynian king; for Zetes and Calais bade Jason land there,\nbecause they had a work to do.\n\nThey went up from the shore toward the city, through forests white with\nsnow; and Phineus came out to meet them with a lean and woeful face, and\nsaid, \u201cWelcome, gallant heroes, to the land of bitter blasts, the land of\ncold and misery; yet I will feast you as best I can.\u201d And he led them in,\nand set meat before them; but before they could put their hands to their\nmouths, down came two fearful monsters, the like of whom man never saw;\nfor they had the faces and the hair of fair maidens, but the wings and\nclaws of hawks; and they snatched the meat from off the table, and flew\nshrieking out above the roofs.\n\nThen Phineus beat his breast and cried, \u201cThese are the Harpies, whose\nnames are the Whirlwind and the Swift, the daughters of Wonder and of\nthe Amber-nymph, and they rob us night and day. They carried off the\ndaughters of Pandareus, whom all the gods had blessed; for Venus fed them\non Olympus with honey and milk and wine; and Juno gave them beauty and\nwisdom, and Minerva skill in all the arts; but when they came to their\nwedding, the Harpies snatched them both away, and gave them to be slaves\nto the Fates and live in horror all their days. And now they haunt me,\nand my people, and the Bosphorus, with fearful storms and sweep away our\nfood from off our tables, so that we starve in spite of all our wealth.\u201d\n\nThen up rose Zetes and Calais, the winged sons of the North Wind, and\nsaid, \u201cDo you not know us, Phineus, and these wings which grow upon our\nbacks?\u201d And Phineus hid his face in terror; but he answered not a word.\n\n\u201cBecause you have been a traitor, Phineus, the Harpies haunt you night\nand day. Where is Cleopatra our sister, your wife, whom you keep in\nprison? and where are her two children, whom you blinded in your rage, at\nthe bidding of an evil woman, and cast them out upon the rocks? Swear to\nus that you will right our sister, and cast out that wicked woman; and\nthen we will free you from your plague, and drive the whirlwind maidens\nto the south; but if not, we will put out your eyes, as you put out the\neyes of your own sons.\u201d\n\nThen Phineus swore an oath to them, and drove out the wicked woman; and\nJason took those two poor children, and cured their eyes with magic\nherbs.\n\nBut Zetes and Calais rose up sadly and said, \u201cFarewell now, heroes all;\nfarewell, our dear companions, with whom we played on Pelion in old\ntimes; for a fate is laid upon us, and our day is come at last, in which\nwe must hunt the whirlwinds over land and sea forever; and if we catch\nthem they die, and if not, we die ourselves.\u201d\n\nAt that all the heroes wept; but the two young men sprang aloft into the\nair after the Harpies, and the battle of the winds began. The heroes\ntrembled in silence as they heard the shrieking of the blasts; while\nthe palace rocked and all the city, and great stones were torn from the\ncrags, and the forest pines were hurled earthward, north and south and\neast and west, and the Bosphorus boiled white with foam, and the clouds\nwere dashed against the cliffs.\n\nBut at last the battle ended, and the Harpies fled screaming toward the\nsouth, and the sons of the North Wind rushed after them, and brought\nclear sunshine where they passed. For many a league they followed them,\nover all the isles of the Cyclades, and away to the southwest across\nHellas, till they came to the Ionian Sea, and there they fell upon the\nEchinades, at the mouth of the Achelous; and those isles were called the\nWhirlwind Isles for many a hundred years. But what became of Zetes and\nCalais I know not, for the heroes never saw them again: and some say\nthat Hercules met them, and quarrelled with them, and slew them with his\narrows; and some say that they fell down from weariness and the heat of\nthe summer sun, and that the Sun-god buried them among the Cyclades, in\nthe pleasant Isle of Tenos; and for many hundred years their grave was\nshown there, and over it a pillar, which turned to every wind. But those\ndark storms and whirlwinds haunt the Bosphorus until this day.\n\nBut the Argonauts went eastward, and out into the open sea, which we now\ncall the Black Sea, but it was called the Euxine then. No Greek had ever\ncrossed it, and all feared that dreadful sea, and its rocks, and shoals,\nand fogs, and bitter freezing storms; and they told strange stories of\nit, some false and some half true, how it stretched northward to the ends\nof the earth, and the sluggish Putrid Sea, and the everlasting night, and\nthe regions of the dead. So the heroes trembled, for all their courage,\nas they came into that wild Black Sea, and saw it stretching out before\nthem, without a shore, as far as eye could see.\n\nAnd first Orpheus spoke, and warned them, \u201cWe shall come now to the\nwandering blue rocks; my mother warned me of them, Calliope, the immortal\nmuse.\u201d\n\nSoon they saw the blue rocks shining like spires and castles of gray\nglass, while an ice-cold wind blew from them and chilled the heroes\u2019\nhearts. As they neared they could see them heaving, as they rolled upon\nthe long set waves, crashing and grinding together, till the roar went up\nto heaven. The sea sprang up in spouts between them, and swept round them\nin white sheets of foam; but their heads swung nodding high in air, while\nthe wind whistled shrill among the crags.\n\nThe heroes\u2019 hearts sank within them, and they lay upon their oars in\nfear; but Orpheus called to Tiphys the helmsman, \u201cBetween them we must\npass; so look ahead for an opening, and be brave, for Juno is with us.\u201d\nBut Tiphys the cunning helmsman stood silent, clenching his teeth, till\nhe saw a heron come flying mast-high toward the rocks, and hover a while\nbefore them, as if looking for a passage through. Then he cried, \u201cJuno\nhas sent us a pilot; let us follow the cunning bird.\u201d\n\nThen the heron flapped to and fro a moment, till he saw a hidden gap,\nand into it he rushed like an arrow, while the heroes watched what would\nbefall. And the blue rocks clashed together as the bird flew swiftly\nthrough; but they struck but a feather from his tail, and then rebounded\napart at the shock.\n\nThen Tiphys cheered the heroes, and they shouted; and the oars bent\nlike withes beneath their strokes as they rushed between those toppling\nice-crags and the cold blue lips of death. And ere the rocks could meet\nagain they had passed them, and were safe out in the open sea.\n\nAfter that they sailed on wearily along the Asian coast, by the Black\nCape and Thyneis, where the hot stream of Thymbris falls into the sea,\nand Sangarius, whose waters float on the Euxine, till they came to Wolf\nthe river, and to Wolf the kindly king. And there died two brave heroes,\nIdmon and Tiphys the wise helmsman; one died of an evil sickness, and one\na wild boar slew. So the heroes heaped a mound above them, and set upon\nit an oar on high, and left them there to sleep together, on the far-off\nLycian shore. But Idas killed the boar, and avenged Tiphys; and Ancaios\ntook the rudder and was helmsman, and steered them on toward the east.\n\nAnd they went on past Sinope, and many a mighty river\u2019s mouth, and past\nmany a barbarous tribe, and the cities of the Amazons, the warlike women\nof the East, till all night they heard the clank of anvils and roar\nof furnace-blasts, and the forge-fires shone like sparks through the\ndarkness in the mountain glens aloft; for they were come to the shores\nof the Chalybes, the smiths who never tire, but serve Mars the cruel\nWar-god, forging weapons day and night.\n\nAt day-dawn they looked eastward, and midway between the sea and the sky\nthey saw white snow-peaks hanging, glittering sharp and bright above the\nclouds. And they knew that they were come to Caucasus, at the end of\nall the earth: Caucasus the highest of all mountains, the father of the\nrivers of the East. On this peak lies chained the Titan, while a vulture\ntears his heart; and at his feet are piled dark forests round the magic\nColchian land.\n\nAnd they rowed three days to the eastward, while Caucasus rose higher\nhour by hour, till they saw the dark stream of Phasis rushing headlong\nto the sea, and, shining above the tree-tops, the golden roofs of King\nAietes, the child of the Sun. Then out spoke Ancaios the helmsman, \u201cWe\nare come to our goal at last, for there are the roofs of Aietes, and the\nwoods where all poisons grow; but who can tell us where among them is hid\nthe Golden Fleece? Many a toil must we bear ere we find it, and bring it\nhome to Greece.\u201d\n\nBut Jason cheered the heroes, for his heart was high and bold; and he\nsaid, \u201cI will go alone up to Aietes, though he be the child of the Sun,\nand win him with soft words. Better so than to go all together, and to\ncome to blows at once.\u201d But the Minuai would not stay behind, so they\nrowed boldly up the stream.\n\nAnd a dream came to Aietes, and filled his heart with fear. He thought he\nsaw a shining star, which fell into his daughter\u2019s lap; and that Medea\nhis daughter took it gladly, and carried it to the river-side, and cast\nit in, and there the whirling river bore it down, and out into the Black\nSea. Then he leaped up in fear, and bade his servants bring his chariot,\nthat he might go down to the river-side and appease the nymphs, and\nthe heroes whose spirits haunt the bank. So he went down in his golden\nchariot, and his daughters by his side, Medea the fair witch-maiden, and\nChalciope, who had been Phrixus\u2019 wife, and behind him a crowd of servants\nand soldiers, for he was a rich and mighty prince.\n\nAs he drove down by the reedy river he saw _Argo_ sliding up beneath the\nbank, and many a hero in her, like Immortals for beauty and for strength,\nas their weapons glittered round them in the level morning sunlight,\nthrough the white mist of the stream. But Jason was the noblest of all;\nfor Juno, who loved him, gave him beauty and tallness and vigorous\nmanhood.\n\nAnd when they came near together and looked into each other\u2019s eyes the\nheroes were awed before Aietes as he shone in his chariot, like his\nfather the glorious Sun; for his robes were of rich gold tissue, and the\nrays of his diadem flashed fire, and in his hand he bore a jewelled\nscepter, which glittered like the stars; and sternly he looked at them\nunder his brows, and sternly he spoke and loud: \u201cWho are you, and what\nwant you here, that you come to the shore of Cutaia? Do you take no\naccount of my rule, nor of my people the Colchians who serve me, who\nnever tired yet in the battle, and know well how to face an invader?\u201d\n\nAnd the heroes sat silent before the face of that ancient king. But Juno\nthe awful goddess put courage into Jason\u2019s heart, and he rose and shouted\nloudly in answer, \u201cWe are no pirates nor lawless men. We come not to\nplunder and to ravage, or carry away slaves from your land; but my uncle\nthe son of Neptune, Pelias the Minuan king, he it is who has set me on a\nquest to bring home the Golden Fleece. And these, too, my bold comrades,\nare no nameless men; for some are the sons of Immortals, and some of\nheroes far renowned. And we, too, never tire in battle, and know well how\nto give blows and to take: yet we wish to be guests at your table: it\nwill be better so for both.\u201d\n\nThen Aietes\u2019 rage rushed up like a whirlwind, and his eyes flashed fire\nas he heard; but he crushed his anger down in his breast, and spoke\nmildly a cunning speech:\n\n\u201cIf you will fight for the fleece with my Colchians, then many a man must\ndie. But do you indeed expect to win from me the fleece in fight? So few\nyou are that if you be worsted I can load your ship with your corpses.\nBut if you will be ruled by me, you will find it better far to choose the\nbest man among you, and let him fulfil the labors which I demand. Then I\nwill give him the Golden Fleece for a prize and a glory to you all.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he turned his horses and drove back in silence to the town.\nAnd the Minuai sat silent with sorrow, and longed for Hercules and his\nstrength; for there was no facing the thousands of the Colchians and the\nfearful chance of war.\n\nBut Chalciope, Phrixus\u2019 widow, went weeping to the town; for she\nremembered her Minuan husband, and all the pleasures of her youth, while\nshe watched the fair faces of his kinsmen, and their long locks of golden\nhair. And she whispered to Medea, her sister, \u201cWhy should all these\nbrave men die? why does not my father give them up the fleece, that my\nhusband\u2019s spirit may have rest?\u201d\n\nAnd Medea\u2019s heart pitied the heroes, and Jason most of all; and she\nanswered, \u201cOur father is stern and terrible, and who can win the Golden\nFleece?\u201d But Chalciope said, \u201cThese men are not like our men; there is\nnothing which they cannot dare nor do.\u201d\n\nAnd Medea thought of Jason and his brave countenance, and said, \u201cIf there\nwas one among them who knew no fear, I could show him how to win the\nfleece.\u201d\n\nSo in the dusk of evening they went down to the river-side, Chalciope\nand Medea the witch-maiden, and Argus, Phrixus\u2019 son. And Argus the boy\ncrept forward, among the beds of reeds, till he came where the heroes\nwere sleeping, on the thwarts of the ship, beneath the bank, while Jason\nkept ward on shore, and leaned upon his lance full of thought. And the\nboy came to Jason, and said: \u201cI am the son of Phrixus, your cousin; and\nChalciope my mother waits for you, to talk about the Golden Fleece.\u201d\n\nThen Jason went boldly with the boy, and found the two princesses\nstanding; and when Chalciope saw him she wept, and took his hands, and\ncried: \u201cO cousin of my beloved, go home before you die!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be base to go home now, fair princess, and to have sailed all\nthese seas in vain.\u201d Then both the princesses besought him; but Jason\nsaid, \u201cIt is too late.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you know not,\u201d said Medea, \u201cwhat he must do who would win the\nfleece. He must tame the two brazen-footed bulls, who breathe devouring\nflame; and with them he must plow ere nightfall four acres in the field\nof Mars; and he must sow them with serpents\u2019 teeth, of which each tooth\nsprings up into an armed man. Then he must fight with all those warriors;\nand little will it profit him to conquer them, for the fleece is guarded\nby a serpent, more huge than any mountain pine; and over his body you\nmust step if you would reach the Golden Fleece.\u201d\n\nThen Jason laughed bitterly. \u201cUnjustly is that fleece kept here, and by\nan unjust and lawless king; and unjustly shall I die in my youth, for I\nwill attempt it ere another sun be set.\u201d\n\nThen Medea trembled, and said, \u201cNo mortal man can reach that fleece\nunless I guide him through. For round it, beyond the river, is a wall\nfull nine ells high, with lofty towers and buttresses, and mighty\ngates of threefold brass; and over the gates the wall is arched, with\ngolden battlements above. And over the gateway sits Brimo, the wild\nwitch-huntress of the woods, brandishing a pine-torch in her hands, while\nher mad hounds howl around. No man dare meet her or look on her, but only\nI her priestess, and she watches far and wide lest any stranger should\ncome near.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo wall so high but it may be climbed at last, and no wood so thick but\nit may be crawled through; no serpent so wary but he may be charmed, or\nwitch-queen so fierce but spells may soothe her; and I may yet win the\nGolden Fleece, if a wise maiden help bold men.\u201d\n\nAnd he looked at Medea cunningly, and held her with his glittering eye,\ntill she blushed and trembled, and said: \u201cWho can face the fire of the\nbull\u2019s breath, and fight ten thousand armed men?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe whom you help,\u201d said Jason, flattering her, \u201cfor your fame is spread\nover all the earth. Are you not the queen of all enchantresses, wiser\neven than your sister Circe, in her fairy island in the West?\u201d\n\n\u201cWould that I were with my sister Circe in her fairy island in the West,\nfar away from sore temptation and thoughts which tear the heart! But if\nit must be so\u2014for why should you die?\u2014I have an ointment here; I made it\nfrom the magic ice-flower which sprang from Prometheus\u2019 wound, above the\nclouds on Caucasus, in the dreary fields of snow. Anoint yourself with\nthat, and you shall have in you seven men\u2019s strength; and anoint your\nshield with it, and neither fire nor sword can harm you. But what you\nbegin you must end before sunset, for its virtue lasts only one day. And\nanoint your helmet with it before you sow the serpents\u2019 teeth; and when\nthe sons of earth spring up, cast your helmet among their ranks, and the\ndeadly crop of the War-god\u2019s field will mow itself, and perish.\u201d\n\nThen Jason fell on his knees before her, and thanked her and kissed her\nhands; and she gave him the vase of ointment, and fled trembling through\nthe reeds. And Jason told his comrades what had happened, and showed them\nthe box of ointment; and all rejoiced but Idas, and he grew mad with envy.\n\nAt sunrise Jason went and bathed, and anointed himself from head to foot,\nand his shield, and his helmet, and his weapons, and bade his comrades\ntry the spell. So they tried to bend his lance, but it stood like an iron\nbar; and Idas in spite hewed at it with his sword, but the blade flew to\nsplinters in his face. Then they hurled their lances at his shield, but\nthe spear-points turned like lead; and Caineus tried to throw him, but he\nnever stirred a foot; and Pollux struck him with his fist a blow which\nwould have killed an ox, but Jason only smiled, and the heroes danced\nabout him with delight; and he leaped, and ran, and shouted in the joy\nof that enormous strength, till the sun rose, and it was time to go and\nclaim Aietes\u2019 promise.\n\nSo he sent up Telamon and Aithalides to tell Aietes that he was ready for\nthe fight; and they went up among the marble walls and beneath the roofs\nof gold, and stood in Aietes\u2019 hall while he grew pale with rage.\n\n\u201cFulfil your promise to us, child of the blazing Sun. Give us the\nserpents\u2019 teeth, and let loose the fiery bulls; for we have found a\nchampion among us who can win the Golden Fleece.\u201d\n\nAnd Aietes bit his lips, for he fancied that they had fled away by\nnight; but he could not go back from his promise; so he gave them the\nserpents\u2019 teeth. Then he called for his chariot and his horses, and sent\nheralds through all the town; and all the people went out with him to the\ndreadful War-god\u2019s field.\n\nAnd there Aietes sat upon his throne, with his warriors on each hand,\nthousands and tens of thousands, clothed from head to foot in steel\nchain-mail. And the people and the women crowded to every window and\nbank and wall; while the Minuai stood together, a mere handful in the\nmidst of that great host. Chalciope was there and Argus, trembling, and\nMedea, wrapped closely in her veil; but Aietes did not know that she was\nmuttering cunning spells between her lips.\n\nThen Jason cried, \u201cFulfil your promise, and let your fiery bulls come\nforth.\u201d\n\nThen Aietes bade open the gates, and the magic bulls leaped out. Their\nbrazen hoofs rang upon the ground, and their nostrils sent out sheets\nof flame, as they rushed with lowered heads upon Jason; but he never\nflinched a step. The flame of their breath swept round him, but it singed\nnot a hair of his head; and the bulls stopped short and trembled when\nMedea began her spell.\n\nThen Jason sprang upon the nearest and seized him by the horn; and up and\ndown they wrestled, till the bull fell grovelling on his knees; for the\nheart of the brute died within him; and his mighty limbs were loosed,\nbeneath the steadfast eye of that dark witch-maiden and the magic whisper\nof her lips.\n\nSo both the bulls were tamed and yoked; and Jason bound them to the plow,\nand goaded them onward with his lance till he had plowed the sacred field.\n\nAnd all the Minuai shouted; but Aietes bit his lips with rage for the\nhalf of Jason\u2019s work was over, and the sun was yet high in heaven.\n\nThen he took the serpents\u2019 teeth and sowed them, and waited what would\nbefall. But Medea looked at him and at his helmet, lest he should forget\nthe lesson she had taught.\n\nEvery furrow heaved and bubbled, and out of every clod arose a man. Out\nof the earth they rose by thousands, each clad from head to foot in\nsteel, and drew their swords and rushed on Jason, where he stood in the\nmidst alone. Then the Minuai grew pale with fear for him; but Aietes\nlaughed a bitter laugh. \u201cSee! if I had not warriors enough already round\nme, I could call them out of the bosom of the earth.\u201d\n\nBut Jason snatched off his helmet, and hurled it into the thickest of the\nthrong. And blind madness came upon them, suspicion, hate, and fear; and\none cried to his fellow, \u201cThou didst strike me!\u201d and another, \u201cThou art\nJason; thou shalt die!\u201d So fury seized those earth-born phantoms, and\neach turned his hand against the rest; and they fought and were never\nweary, till they all lay dead upon the ground. Then the magic furrows\nopened, and the kind earth took them home into her breast; and the grass\ngrew up all green again above them, and Jason\u2019s work was done.\n\nThen the Minuai rose and shouted, till Prometheus heard them from his\ncrag. And Jason cried, \u201cLead me to the fleece this moment, before the sun\ngoes down.\u201d\n\nBut Aietes thought, \u201cHe has conquered the bulls, and sown and reaped the\ndeadly crop. Who is this who is proof against all magic? He may kill the\nserpent yet.\u201d So he delayed, and sat taking counsel with his princes till\nthe sun went down and all was dark. Then he bade a herald cry, \u201cEvery\nman to his home for to-night. To-morrow we will meet these heroes, and\nspeak about the Golden Fleece.\u201d Then he turned and looked at Medea. \u201cThis\nis your doing, false witch-maid! You have helped these yellow-haired\nstrangers, and brought shame upon your father and yourself!\u201d\n\nMedea shrank and trembled, and her face grew pale with fear; and Aietes\nknew that she was guilty, and whispered, \u201cIf they win the fleece, you\ndie!\u201d\n\nBut the Minuai marched toward their ship, growling like lions cheated of\ntheir prey; for they saw that Aietes meant to mock them, and to cheat\nthem out of all their toil. And Oileus said, \u201cLet us go to the grove\ntogether, and take the fleece by force.\u201d\n\nAnd Idas the rash cried, \u201cLet us draw lots who shall go in first; for,\nwhile the dragon is devouring one, the rest can slay him and carry off\nthe fleece in peace.\u201d But Jason held them back, though he praised them;\nfor he hoped for Medea\u2019s help. And after a while Medea came trembling,\nand wept a long while before she spoke. And at last: \u201cMy end is come, and\nI must die; for my father has found out that I have helped you. You he\nwould kill if he dared; but he will not harm you, because you have been\nhis guests. Go, then, go, and remember poor Medea when you are far away\nacross the sea.\u201d But all the heroes cried:\n\n\u201cIf you die, we die with you; for without you we cannot win the fleece,\nand home we will not go without it, but fall here fighting to the last\nman.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou need not die,\u201d said Jason. \u201cFlee home with us across the sea. Show\nus first how to win the fleece; for you can do it. Why else are you the\npriestess of the grove? Show us but how to win the fleece, and come with\nus, and you shall be my queen, and rule over the rich princes of the\nMinuai, in Iolcos by the sea.\u201d And all the heroes pressed round, and\nvowed to her that she should be their queen.\n\nMedea wept, and shuddered, and hid her face in her hands; for her heart\nyearned after her sisters and her playfellows, and the home where she\nwas brought up as a child. But at last she looked up at Jason, and\nspoke between her sobs: \u201cMust I leave my home and my people, to wander\nwith strangers across the sea? The lot is cast, and I must endure it. I\nwill show you how to win the Golden Fleece. Bring up your ship to the\nwood-side, and moor her there against the bank; and let Jason come up at\nmidnight, and one brave comrade with him, and meet me beneath the wall.\u201d\n\nThen all the heroes cried together, \u201cI will go!\u201d \u201cand I!\u201d \u201cand I!\u201d And\nIdas the rash grew mad with envy; for he longed to be foremost in all\nthings. But Medea calmed them, and said, \u201cOrpheus shall go with Jason,\nand bring his magic harp; for I hear of him that he is the king of all\nminstrels, and can charm all things on earth.\u201d\n\nAnd Orpheus laughed for joy, and clapped his hands, because the choice\nhad fallen on him; for in those days poets and singers were as bold\nwarriors as the best.\n\nSo at midnight they went up the bank, and found Medea; and besides came\nAbsyrtus her young brother, leading a yearling lamb.\n\nThen Medea brought them to a thicket beside the War-god\u2019s gate; and there\nshe bade Jason dig a ditch, and kill the lamb, and leave it there, and\nstrew on it magic herbs and honey from the honeycomb.\n\nThen sprang up through the earth, with the red fire flashing before\nher, Brimo the wild witch-huntress, while her mad hounds howled around.\nShe had one head like a horse\u2019s, and another like a ravening hound\u2019s,\nand another like a hissing snake\u2019s and a sword in either hand. And she\nleaped into the ditch with her hounds, and they ate and drank their fill,\nwhile Jason and Orpheus trembled, and Medea hid her eyes. And at last\nthe witch-queen vanished, and fled with her hounds into the woods; and\nthe bars of the gates fell down, and the brazen doors flew wide, and\nMedea and the heroes ran forward and hurried through the poison wood,\namong the dark stems of the mighty beeches, guided by the gleam of the\nGolden Fleece, until they saw it hanging on one vast tree in the midst.\nAnd Jason would have sprung to seize it; but Medea held him back, and\npointed, shuddering, to the tree-foot, where the mighty serpent lay,\ncoiled in and out among the roots, with a body like a mountain pine. His\ncoils stretched many a fathom, spangled with bronze and gold; and half of\nhim they could see, but no more, for the rest lay in the darkness beyond.\n\nAnd when he saw them coming he lifted up his head, and watched them with\nhis small bright eyes, and flashed his forked tongue, and roared like the\nfire among the woodlands, till the forest tossed and groaned. For his\ncries shook the trees from leaf to root, and swept over the long reaches\nof the river, and over Aietes\u2019 hall, and woke the sleepers in the city,\ntill mothers clasped their children in their fear.\n\nBut Medea called gently to him, and he stretched out his long spotted\nneck, and licked her hand, and looked up in her face, as if to ask for\nfood. Then she made a sign to Orpheus, and he began his magic song.\n\nAnd as he sung, the forest grew calm again, and the leaves on every tree\nhung still; and the serpent\u2019s head sank down, and his brazen coils grew\nlimp, and his glittering eyes closed lazily, till he breathed as gently\nas a child, while Orpheus called to pleasant Slumber, who gives peace to\nmen, and beasts, and waves.\n\nThen Jason leaped forward warily, and stepped across that mighty snake,\nand tore the fleece from off the tree-trunk; and the four rushed down the\ngarden, to the bank where the _Argo_ lay.\n\nThere was a silence for a moment, while Jason held the Golden Fleece on\nhigh. Then he cried, \u201cGo now, good _Argo_, swift and steady, if ever you\nwould see Pelion more.\u201d And she went, as the heroes drove her, grim and\nsilent all, with muffled oars, till the pinewood bent like willow in\ntheir hands, and stout _Argo_ groaned beneath their strokes.\n\nOn and on, beneath the dewy darkness, they fled swiftly down the swirling\nstream; underneath black walls, and temples, and the castles of the\nprinces of the East; past sluice-mouths, and fragrant gardens, and groves\nof all strange fruits; past marshes where fat kine lay sleeping, and long\nbeds of whispering reeds; till they heard the merry music of the surge\nupon the bar, as it tumbled in the moonlight all alone.\n\nInto the surge they rushed, and _Argo_ leaped the breakers like a horse;\nfor she knew the time was come to show her mettle, and win honor for the\nheroes and herself. Into the surge they rushed, and _Argo_ leaped the\nbreakers like a horse, till the heroes stopped all panting, each man upon\nhis oar, as she slid into the still broad sea.\n\nThen Orpheus took his harp and sang a p\u00e6an, till the heroes\u2019 hearts rose\nhigh again; and they rowed on stoutly and steadfastly, away into the\ndarkness of the West.\n\n\n\n\nHUNTING THE CALYDONIAN BOAR\n\nBy Elsie Finnimore Buckley\n\n\nIn the city of Calydon long ago there were great rejoicings because the\nqueen Alth\u00e6a had given birth to a son, her first-born, who, if he grew to\nyears of manhood, would in time sit upon the throne of his father \u0152neus,\nand rule the land. Some seven days after the child was born it chanced\nthat the queen was lying in her chamber, with the babe upon her breast.\n\nAs she lay she watched the shadows playing up and down upon the walls,\nand to her eyes they took strange forms of men and beasts. Now it was a\ngreat fight she saw, with horses and chariots rushing over a plain, and\nmighty warriors meeting face to face in battle; now it was a hunt, with\nwinding of horns and dogs straining at the leash, and a white-tusked boar\nbreaking through a thicket. But whether it was a hunt or whether it was a\nbattle, everywhere there was one figure of a man she watched\u2014a man tall\nand fair and brave, who stood out conspicuous among his fellows\u2014such a\nhero as her son might grow to be if he lived till years of manhood. And\nshe prayed that her vision might come true, and her son grow up to be a\nhero\u2014a man mighty in sport and mighty in battle. In time the flames died\ndown, and the fire burned clear and still upon the hearth. The queen\u2019s\neyes grew heavy, and she was about to turn on her side to sleep when a\nstrange thing happened, which took from her all desire for rest. The wall\nof the room in front of her, which had glowed bright and cheery in the\nfirelight, grew gray and misty and seemed to vanish before her eyes, and\nthrough the opening there came towards her the forms of three strange\nwomen, taller and more terrible than any women of earth. The first one\ncarried in her hand a skein of thread, the second a spindle, and the\nthird a pair of great sharp shears. The queen lay still and motionless\nwith terror as they came forward slowly arm in arm and stood beside the\ncouch, looking down upon the child at her breast. At length the first one\nspoke.\n\n\u201cI give to thy child, Alth\u00e6a, a thread of life exceeding bright and fair.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d said the second, \u201cwill weave that thread into dark places, where\nit will shine the brighter for the darkness round about, and bring him\nhonor and great renown.\u201d\n\nThe third one said never a word, but walked slowly round the couch till\nshe stood before the fire on the hearth. A great brand had fallen from\nthe grate, and lay smouldering on the stones. Bending down, she took it\nin her hand, and thrust it deep into the red-hot heart of the fire, and\nstood watching it till it was well alight, and the tongues of flame shot\ncrackling upwards. Then she turned towards the queen.\n\n\u201cAs soon as that brand upon the fire is consumed,\u201d she said, \u201cI will cut\nthe shining thread with my shears, and his life shall be as ashes cast\nforth upon the wind.\u201d\n\nWith a cry of terror the queen sprang up from her couch, rushed across\nthe room, and, drawing forth the blazing brand from the fire, she\nsmothered it in her gown, and crushed it beneath her bare feet, till not\na live spark remained about it. Then she hid it in a secret place where\nshe alone could find it, and cast herself upon her couch and knew no more.\n\nFor many a long day she lay between life and death, but at last the gods\nhad mercy, and her strength came slowly back to her. But when anyone\nasked her the cause of her burning, she would shudder and mutter some\nstrange tale of a brand which fell from the fire, and would have burnt\nout the life of her child. What she meant no one ever knew, but they\nthought that the gods had stricken her with a sudden fever, and that,\nnot knowing what she did, she had burnt herself in the fire. But of the\nhalf-burnt brand and of the word of the Fates they knew nothing, for\nAlth\u00e6a had said in her heart:\n\n[Illustration: CHIRON, THE CENTAUR\u2014page 105\n\n_From the painting by Maxfield Parrish_]\n\n\u201cThe Fates have spoken, and their word shall surely come to pass. A fine\nand fair thread of life has Lachesis given to my son, and Clotho will\nweave it into dark places, where it shall shine exceeding bright. The\ngifts they have given are good. The hand of Atropos alone is against\nhim, and she has measured his life by the life of a frail piece of wood.\nBut so long as the gods shall give me strength no careless hand shall\nplace that brand upon the flames, and no man shall know the secret of\nhis life, for grief or madness may turn even the heart of a friend. On\nme, and on me alone, shall my son\u2019s life rest; for well do I know that\nneither prayer nor sacrifice can avail to turn the heart of Atropos, the\nUnswerving One.\u201d So she kept the brand securely hidden where she alone\ncould find it. Many other fair children did she bear to \u0152neus the king,\nbut best of them all she loved Meleager, her first-born; for the word\nthat the Fates had spoken came true. He grew to be a great warrior and a\nmighty man, and was feared by his foes and loved by his friends through\nthe length and breadth of the land. In all the country-side there was\nno man who could hurl the javelin with such force and skill as he, and\nwhenever he went forth to battle the victory lay with the men of Calydon,\nand he was called the savior and protector of his city.\n\nWhen he was in the flower of his manhood, the call of Jason came from far\nIolcos for all the heroes of Greece to join him in his search for the\nGolden Fleece. Amongst them sailed Meleager in the good ship _Argo_, and\ncame to the land of the dusky Colchians on the shores of the Black Sea.\nHe played his part like a man, and came back to Calydon with a fair name\nfor courage and endurance. Then was he hoisted on the shoulders of his\ncountrymen and carried through the streets of the city, and feasted right\nroyally in his father\u2019s house.\n\nSoon after his return it chanced that the harvest was more plentiful\nthan it had ever been within the memory of man. Wherefore \u0152neus the king\nordered a great thanksgiving to be held throughout the land in honor of\nBacchus and Ceres and Minerva, who had given such good gifts to men. At\nevery shrine and temple the altars smoked with sacrifice, and glad bands\nof youths and maidens with garlands on their heads danced hand in hand\naround, singing the song of the harvest.\n\nWhen Diana, the huntress, saw that everywhere the altars smoked in honor\nof Ceres and Bacchus and Minerva, but that never a single stone was\nraised to her, she was filled with jealousy and wrath. One night, when\nall the land lay sleeping, she left the mountains, where she loved to\nhunt, and came down to Calydon. The arrows in her quiver rattled as she\nstrode along in her wrath, and the flash of her eyes was as the flash of\nsummer lightning across the sky. With great swinging strides she came and\nstood over \u0152neus as he slept.\n\n\u201cO king,\u201d she said, \u201ctoo long have I been patient and waited for my dues;\nbut I will suffer thine ingratitude no more. When the young corn stands\ngreen upon the plain, and the vine-leaves are shooting, and the trees\ncast once more their shade upon the bare hill-side, then shalt thou have\ncause to know my power. Broad and dark are the forests, and many a wild\nbeast lurks therein that is tame at my word alone. One of these will I\nlet loose upon thy land. Many a fair field shall be trodden underfoot,\nand many a vineyard and olive-grove laid waste\u2014yea, and red blood shall\nflow, ere my wrath be assuaged, and I take away the pests from your\nmidst. I have spoken, and no sacrifice shall turn me from my word.\u201d\n\nThus did she speak, saying the words in his ear, and turned and left the\nroom by the way she had come. With a start he awoke from his sleep and\nlooked around him, but no one could he see. Only a sudden storm of wind\nlashed the branches of the trees against each other, and a dark cloud hid\nthe face of the moon.\n\n\u201cThe sad winter-time is coming,\u201d he thought, \u201cwith its storms and its\ndarkened days. Yet, lest there be aught in my dream, I will remember\nDiana to-morrow, and her altars, too, shall smoke with sacrifice.\u201d\n\nSo on the morrow a great festival was held in honor of Diana, the maiden\nhuntress, and \u0152neus laid aside all thought of his dream. But when the\nspring-time came and the early summer, he had cause to remember it with\nsorrow, for out of the forests there came a great boar which laid waste\nall the country, right and left. In size he was more huge than an ox of\nEpirus, whose oxen are the largest in the world, and the bristles on his\nneck stood up like spikes. His breath was as a flame of fire that burned\nup all that stood in his way, and his cruel little eyes gleamed red\nwith blood. Over the cornfields he raged, and trampled the green blades\nbeneath his hoofs, and with his strong, white tusks he tore down the\nvine-branches and broke the overhanging boughs of the olive, so that the\nyoung berries and fruit lay spoilt upon the ground. Not only did he lay\nwaste the fields, but the flocks and herds on the pasture-land were not\nsafe from his attack, and neither shepherds nor dogs could protect them\nfrom his fury. Through all the country-side the people fled in terror for\ntheir lives, and hid within the city walls, only now and again a band of\nthe bravest would go forth and lay nets and snares for him; but so great\nwas the strength of the beast that he broke through every trap they could\ndevise, and, killing any man who stood in his path, he would return, with\ngreater fury than before, to his attack upon the fields and cattle.\nAt length things came to such a pass that, unless the monster could\nbe checked, famine would ere long stare the people in the face. When\nMeleager saw that neither prayer nor sacrifice would turn the heart of\nDiana, nor any ordinary hunting put an end to the boar, he determined to\ngather around him a band of heroes who, for the sake of glory, would come\ntogether for the hunt, and either kill the beast or perish themselves\nin the attempt. So he sent a proclamation far and wide through all the\nkingdoms of Greece.\n\n\u201cO men of Greece,\u201d he said, \u201cthe fair plains of Calydon lie trodden\nunderfoot by a grievous monster, and her people are fallen upon evil\ndays. Come hither and help us, all ye who love adventure, and fear not\nrisk nor peril, ye seasoned warriors whose spirit is not dead within you,\nand ye young men who have yet your name to win. Come hither to us, and we\nwill give you fair sport and good cheer withal.\u201d\n\nIn answer to his call there flocked from far and wide to Calydon a great\nhost of brave men, and mighty was the muster which gathered beneath the\nroof of \u0152neus for the hunting of the boar. Jason himself came, the leader\nof the Argonauts, and Castor and Pollux, the great twin brethren, whose\nstars are in the sky. There was Theseus, too, who slew the Minotaur, and\nPeirithous his friend, who went down with him to Hades, and tried to\ncarry off Proserpine from the King of the Dead. And swift-footed Idas\ncame, and Lynceus, his brother, whose eyes were so sharp that they could\nsee into the center of the earth. Others were there besides, whose names\nare too many to tell, and Toxeus and Plexippus, the brothers of Alth\u00e6a\nthe queen, whom she loved as she loved her own son Meleager. In the great\nhall a sumptuous feast was spread, and loud was the laughter and bright\nwere the faces, as one friend met another he had not seen for many a long\nday. The feast was well under way when one of the attendants whispered in\nthe ear of the king that yet another guest had come for the hunting of\nthe boar.\n\n\u201cWho is he?\u201d asked the king.\n\n\u201cMy lord, I know not,\u201d the man replied.\n\n\u201cWell, keep him not standing without, at all events,\u201d said \u0152neus, \u201cbut\nshow him in here, and we will make him welcome with the rest.\u201d\n\nIn a few moments the man returned, and held back the curtain of the great\ndoorway for the newcomer to enter. All eyes were turned eagerly that way\nto see who it might be, and a murmur of surprise ran round the hall; for\nthey saw upon the threshold no stalwart warrior, as they had expected,\nbut a maiden young and beautiful. She was clad in a hunter\u2019s tunic, which\nfell to her knee, and her legs were strapped about with leathern thongs.\nCrosswise about her body she wore a girdle, from which hung a quiver full\nof arrows, and with her right hand she leant on a great ashen bow like\na staff. Her shining hair fell back in waves from her forehead, and was\ngathered up in a coil behind, and she held her head up proudly and gazed\nround on the company unabashed. The glow of her cheek and the spring of\nher step told of life in the open, and of health-giving sport over hill\nand dale, so that she might have been Diana herself come down from her\nhunting on the mountains.\n\nShe looked round the hall till her eyes fell on \u0152neus, the host, in the\nplace of honor, and in no wise troubled by the silence which her coming\nhad caused, she said: \u201cSire, for my late-coming I crave thy pardon.\nDoubtless some of thy guests have come from more distant lands than I,\nbut, as ill-luck would have it, I chose to come by way of the sea instead\nof by the isthmus. For a whole day I ate out my heart with waiting till\nthe wind fell, and I could cross over in safety.\u201d\n\nConcealing his surprise as best he could, \u0152neus answered: \u201cMaiden, we\nthank thee for thy coming, and make thee right welcome in our halls. Yet\nwe would know thy name who, a woman all alone, hast crossed barren tracts\nof land and stormy seas unflinching, and come to take part in a hunt\nwhich is no mere child\u2019s sport, but a perilous venture, in which strong\nmen might hesitate to risk their lives and limbs.\u201d\n\nAs she listened to his words she smiled. \u201cO king,\u201d she said, \u201cthou hidest\nthy surprise but ill. Yet am I not offended, nor will I make a mystery of\nwho I am. My name is Atalanta, and I come from the mountains of Arcadia,\nwhere all day long I hunt with the nymphs over hill and over dale, and\nthrough the dark forests, following in the footsteps of her we serve,\ngreat Diana the huntress. At her command I stand before thee now, for\nshe said to me, \u2018Atalanta, the land of Calydon lies groaning beneath\nthe curse, wherewith I cursed them because they forgot me, and gave me\nnot my dues. But do thou go and help them, and for thy sake I will lay\naside my wrath, and let them slay the monster that I sent against them.\nYet without thee shall they not accomplish it, but the glory of the hunt\nshall be thine.\u2019 Thus did she speak, and in obedience to her word am I\ncome.\u201d\n\nWhen she had spoken, a murmur ran round the hall, and each man,\ndetermined in his mind that no mere woman should surpass him in courage\nand strength. The sons of Thestius, the queen\u2019s brothers, especially\nlooked askance at her, and their hearts were filled with jealousy and\nwrath; for there seemed no reason why she should not be a match for any\nman among them, in a trial where swiftness of foot and sureness of eye\nwould avail as much as brute force. When Meleager saw their dark looks he\nwas very angry that they should so far forget their good breeding as to\nfail in welcoming a guest, and he rose from his seat and went towards her.\n\n\u201cO maiden,\u201d he said, \u201cwe make thee right welcome to our halls, and we\nthank thee because thou hast heard our appeal, and art come to help us\nin the day of our trouble. Come, now, and sit thee down, and make glad\nthy heart with meat and wine, for thou must need it sorely after thy long\njourneying.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke, he took her by the hand and set her in a place of honor\nbetween his father and himself, and saw that she had her fill of the good\nfare on the board. As he sat beside her and talked with her, his heart\nwas kindled with love, for she was exceeding fair to look upon; and the\nmore he thought upon the morrow\u2019s hunting, the more loath was he that she\nshould risk her life in it. At length he said:\n\n\u201cAtalanta, surely thou knowest not what manner of beast it is that we are\ngathered together to destroy. Thou hast hunted the swift-footed stag,\nperchance, through the greenwood, but never a monster so fierce as this\nboar that Diana has sent against us. I tell thee, it will be no child\u2019s\nplay, but a matter of death to some of us. Hast thou no mother or father\nto mourn thee if any evil chance befall, or any lover who is longing for\nthy return? Think well ere it be too late.\u201d\n\nBut she laughed aloud at his words. \u201cThou takest me for some drooping\ndamsel that sits at home and spins, and faints if she see but a drop\nof blood. I tell thee, I know neither father, nor mother, nor husband,\nnor brother, and I love but little the lot of womenkind. Never have\nI lived within four walls, and the first roof that covered me was\nthe forest-trees of Mount Parthenius. Whence I came or how I got to\nParthenius no one can tell, and I have no wish to find out. As for savage\nbeasts, had I not the eyes of a hawk and the feet of a deer, I had not\nbeen safe ten seconds on the uplands of Arcadia. For there dwells a\nfierce tribe of centaurs\u2014monsters half human and half horse\u2014who have the\npassions of men and the strength of beasts. These pursued me over hill\nand dale, and I fled like the wind before them; but ever and anon I found\ntime to turn and let fly from my bow a dart which fell but seldom short\nof the mark. So that after a time they gave up in despair, and molested\nme no more. So talk not to me of fierce beasts or of danger.\u201d\n\nAnd nothing that Meleager could say would turn her from her purpose. But\nacross the board he saw the eyes of Toxeus and Plexippus, his mother\u2019s\nbrothers, fixed upon him, and their brows were dark and lowering as they\nfrowned upon him and Atalanta. So he said no more, lest they should\ndiscover his secret and taunt him. As for Atalanta, a stone would have\nreturned his love as readily as she. For a companion in the hunt she\nliked him full well, but to give up her maiden life for his sake was as\nfar from her thoughts as the east is from the west.\n\nWhen the morrow dawned, great was the bustle and confusion in the\ncourt of the palace, where all were to meet together for the hunting\nof the boar. Attendants ran this way and that to fetch and carry for\ntheir masters, and, as the huntsman blew his horn, the hounds barked\nimpatiently, and strained, whining, at their leashes. At length, when all\nwas ready, Alth\u00e6a with her maidens came forth into the portico, and bade\nfarewell to her guests, her husband, her brothers, and to Meleager, her\nson. \u201cGod speed thee, my son,\u201d she said, as she looked proudly on him,\n\u201cand good luck to thy hunting.\u201d\n\nThen she stood on the step and waved to them with a smile as they turned\nto look back at her before the curve of the roadway hid them from sight.\nBut though a smile was on her lips, her eyes were full of tears, and her\nheart within her was dark with a dim foreshadowing of evil. With a heavy\nstep, she turned and went into the house, and as she passed the altar by\nthe hearth she stopped and bowed her head. \u201cGreat Diana,\u201d she prayed,\n\u201chave mercy and bring my loved ones safely back to me this day.\u201d\n\nThen she went to her chamber and drew forth from its hiding-place the\nhalf-burnt brand on which her son\u2019s life depended. \u201cHis life, at any\nrate, is safe,\u201d she thought, \u201cso long as this brand is in my keeping.\u201d\nAnd she hid it away again where she knew no one could find it, and set\nto work restlessly, to while away the hours as best she could, till the\nhunters should come home.\n\nThey, meanwhile, had gone their way up the steep path which led into the\nmountains and deep into the heart of the forest, where they knew their\nprey was lurking. Soon they came upon the track of his hoofs leading to\nthe dry bed of a stream, where the rushes and reeds grew high in the\nmarsh-land, and the bending willows cast their shadow over the spot he\nhad chosen for his lair. Here they spread the nets cautiously about,\nand stationed themselves at every point of vantage, and, when all was\nready, let loose the hounds, and waited for the boar to come forth from\nhis hiding-place. Not long did they have to wait. With a snort of rage\nhe rushed out. The breath from his nostrils came forth like steam, and\nthe white foam flew from his mouth and covered his bristly sides and\nneck. Quick as lightning, he made for the first man he could see, and\nthe tramp of his hoofs re-echoed through the woods like thunder as he\ncame upon the hard ground. As soon as he rushed out, a shower of missiles\nfell towards him from every side, but some were aimed awry or fell too\nfar or too short of him, and those that touched him slipped aside on his\ntough hide; and he broke through the nets that had been spread to catch\nhim, and galloped away unharmed, whilst two of the hunters, who stood in\nhis path, and had not been able to rush aside in time, lay groaning on\nthe ground with the iron mark of his hoof upon them. When the rest saw\nthat he had escaped they gave chase with all speed, headed by Castor and\nPollux, on their white horses, and Atalanta close beside them, running\nswiftly as the wind. Ahead of them the woodland track gave a sudden turn\nto the left, and the boar, rushing blindly forward, would have plunged\ninto the undergrowth and bushes, and escaped beyond range of their darts.\nBut Atalanta, seeing what must happen, stopped short in the chase. Quick\nas thought, she put an arrow to the string, and let fly at the great\nbeast ahead; and Diana, true to her word, guided the arrow so that it\npierced him in the vital part behind the ear. With a snort of pain and\nfury, he turned round upon the hunters and charged down towards them as\nthey came up from behind, and great would have been the havoc he had\nwrought among them but for Meleager. As the brute bore down, he leaped\nlightly to one side, and, gathering together all his strength, buried the\nspear deep into the beast\u2019s black shoulder, and felled him to the earth\nwith the force of his blow. Immediately the others gathered round, and\nhelped to finish the work that Meleager had begun, and soon the monster\nlay dead upon the ground.\n\nThen Meleager, with his foot upon the boar\u2019s head, spoke to the hunters.\n\u201cMy friends,\u201d he said, \u201cI thank you all for the courage and devotion you\nhave shown this day. My land can once more raise her head in joy, for\nthe monster that wrought such havoc in her fields lies dead here at my\nfeet. Yet the price of his death has not been light, my friends.\u201d And\nthey bowed their heads in silence, as they remembered the two whom the\nboar had struck in his rush, one of whom was now dead. \u201cYet those who\nhave suffered, have suffered gloriously, giving up themselves, as brave\nmen must, for the sake of others, and their names shall surely not be\nunremembered by us all. Once more, my trusty comrades, I thank you, every\nman of you. As for thee, lady,\u201d he continued, turning to Atalanta, \u201cwhile\nall have played their part, yet the glory of the hunt is thine. But for\nthy sure hand and eye the beast might yet be lurking in the forest.\nWherefore, as a token of our gratitude, I will give to thee the boar\u2019s\nhead as a trophy to do with as thou wilt.\u201d\n\nAt his words a murmur of applause went round the ring of them that\nlistened. Only the voices of Toxeus and Plexippus were not heard, for\nthey were mad with jealousy and wrath, and as soon as there was silence\nthey spoke.\n\n\u201cBy what right,\u201d asked Toxeus, \u201cshall one bear off the trophy of a hunt\nin which each one of us has played his part?\u201d\n\nThe insolence of his words and looks roused the anger of Meleager to\nboiling-point. All through the hunt the brothers had shown scant courtesy\nto Atalanta, and now their rudeness was past bearing.\n\n\u201cBy the same right as the best man bears off the prize in any contest,\u201d\nhe answered quietly, though he was pale with rage.\n\n\u201cHappy is that one who has first won the heart of the judge, then,\u201d said\nPlexippus with a sneer, as he looked at Atalanta.\n\nBy the truth and the falsehood of his words Meleager was maddened past\nall bearing. Scarce knowing what he did, he sprang upon him, and before\nanyone knew what he was about, he had buried his hunting-knife in the\nheart of Plexippus. When Toxeus saw his brother fall back upon the\ngrass, he sprang upon Meleager, and for a moment they swung backwards\nand forwards, held each in the other\u2019s deadly grip. But Meleager was the\nyounger and the stronger of the two, and soon Toxeus too lay stretched\nupon the ground beside his brother, and a cry of horror went through the\ncrowd of those who stood by. Pale and trembling, Meleager turned towards\nthem.\n\n\u201cMy friends,\u201d he said, \u201cfarewell. You shall look upon my face no more.\nWhether I slew them justly or no, the curse of Heaven is upon me, and I\nknow that night and day the Furies will haunt my steps, because my hand\nis red with the blood of my kinsmen. O fair fields of Calydon, that I\nhave loved and served all my days, farewell for ever. Never more shall I\nlook upon you, nor my home on the steep hill-side, nor the face of the\nqueen, my mother; but I must hide my head in shame far from the haunts of\nmen. As for thee, lady,\u201d he said, turning to Atalanta, \u201ctheir taunt was\nfalse, yet true. Right honorably didst thou win the trophy, as all these\nhere will testify;\u201d and he pointed to the hunters standing round. \u201cYet my\nsoul leapt with joy when I found that into thine hand and none other\u2019s I\nmight give the prize of the hunt. Wherefore, think kindly on my memory,\nlady, when I am far away, for a brave man\u2019s heart is in thy keeping.\nFarewell.\u201d\n\nAnd he turned and went away by the forest-path. So surprised were all the\ncompany that no man moved hand or foot to stop him. The first to speak\nwas Atalanta. \u201cComrades,\u201d she said, \u201cdo you bear home the dead and break\nthe news as gently as may be to the queen, and I will follow him, if\nperchance I can comfort him, for the hand of Heaven is heavy upon him.\u201d\n\nThe rumor had reached the city that the boar had been killed, but not\nwithout loss among the gallant band that had gone out against him, and\nwith a heavy heart Alth\u00e6a was waiting to know who it was that had fallen.\nIn time she saw them returning home, and in their midst four litters\ncarried on the shoulders of some. When she saw them, her heart stood\nstill with fear, and as they came up and laid down the litters before\nthe doorway she was as one turned to marble, and moved neither hand nor\nfoot. When \u0152neus the king saw her, he took her gently by the hand. \u201cCome\nwithin, lady,\u201d he said; \u201cthe hunting of the boar has cost us dear.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! tell me the worst at once,\u201d she cried. \u201cI can bear it better so. The\nsuspense is maddening me.\u201d\n\n\u201cTwo of those who lie before thee are strangers who have given themselves\nfor us,\u201d he said. \u201cOne of them is sore wounded, and the other is gone\nbeyond recovery. The other two, Alth\u00e6a, are very near and dear to\nus\u2014Toxeus and Plexippus, thy brothers.\u201d\n\nAnd he pointed to two of the bodies which lay side by side before her,\nwith their faces covered. With a cry she drew back the coverings, and\ngazed upon the faces that she loved so well. As she looked, she saw the\nwounds that had killed them, and she knew now that it was no wild beast\nthat had slain them, but the hand of man. Drawing herself up to her full\nheight, she looked round on those who stood by, and the gleam of her eyes\nwas terrible to see. \u201cDeceive me no more,\u201d she said, \u201cbut tell me how\nthese two came to fall by the hand of man.\u201d\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d said \u0152neus, \u201cthey sought a quarrel with one of our company, and\nin anger he slew them both.\u201d\n\nFor a moment she was silent, then in a low voice, yet one that all could\nhear, she spoke. \u201cMy curse be upon him, whosoe\u2019er he be. O Daughters\nof Destruction, wingless Furies, I bid you track his footsteps night\nand day. May no roof cover his head nor any man give him food or drink,\nbut let him be a vagabond on the face of the earth till just vengeance\novertake him. On thee, \u0152neus, do I lay this charge, and on my son\nMeleager, to avenge the death of these my kinsmen, who have been foully\nslain.\u201d\n\nIn vain did \u0152neus try to stop her. She was as one deaf to his entreaties.\nWhen she had finished, she looked round for Meleager, and when she could\nnot see him, she cried\u2014\u201cwhere is my son?\u201d\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d said \u0152neus, \u201ceven now the wingless bearers of thy curse are\nhunting him through the forest.\u201d\n\nFor a moment she swayed to and fro as though she would fall. \u201cYe gods,\nwhat have I done?\u201d she muttered.\n\nThen with a cry she turned and rushed through the doorway, across the\ndeserted palace to her own chamber, and barring the door behind her, she\ntook from its hiding-place the brand she had kept jealously so long. As\non the day when the Fates had come to her, a bright fire was burning on\nthe hearth, and deep into the heart of it she pushed the log with both\nher hands.\n\n\u201cO my son, my son!\u201d she cried; \u201cto think that I should come to this! But\nthough the flame that devours thy life burns out my heart within me, yet\nmust I do it. Thus only can I save thee from my curse. For the word, once\nspoken, never dies, and the Furies, once aroused, sleep never, night nor\nday. Wherefore Death alone can give thee peace, O Meleager, my first-born\nand my dearest.\u201d\n\n\u0152neus meanwhile had followed her, and stood without, asking her to open\nto him. But she cried out to him:\n\n\u201cAll is well. I beg thee leave me. I would be alone.\u201d\n\nSo he left her; and she stood watching the flames slowly eat the wood\naway, and at last, when the log fell apart in ashes, she sank down upon\nthe floor, and with her son\u2019s life hers too went out for grief.\n\nMeleager meanwhile had gone blindly forward along the forest track, and\nfrom afar Atalanta followed him. For a time he went onward, straight as\nan arrow, never stopping, never turning. But when his mother\u2019s curse\nwas spoken, faster than the whirlwind the Furies flew from the realms\nof endless night, and came and crouched before his feet. With a cry he\nturned aside, and tried to flee from them, but wherever he looked they\nwere there before him, and he reeled backward and forward like a drunken\nman. But soon his strength seemed to give way, and he fell forward on the\ngrass, and Atalanta ran forward and took his head upon her knee. To her\neyes they two were alone in the heart of the forest, for the foul shapes\nof the Furies he alone had seen. But now he lay with his eyes closed,\nfaint and weak, and she thought that some time in the hunt he must have\nstrained himself, and lay dying of some inward hurt that no man could\nheal, for on his body she could see not a scratch. So she sat in the\ngathering gloom with his head upon her lap. There was naught else she\ncould do. At last, when his heart beat so faint that she thought it had\nstopped once for all, he opened his eyes and looked up at her, and when\nhe saw her the fear and the madness died out of his face, and he smiled.\n\n\u201cThe gods are kind,\u201d he said. Once more he closed his eyes, and Atalanta\nknew that he would open them never again. Gently she laid him with his\nhead on the moss-covered roots of a tree, and sped away to the city\nto bear the news of his death. In the darkness of night they bore him\nthrough the forest, and all the people gathered together and watched from\nthe walls the torchlit procession as it came slowly up the hill. By the\nside of his mother they laid him, and burned above them the torches of\nthe dead, and the mourners, with heads bowed in grief, stood around.\n\nThus did it come to pass that the hunting of the boar ended in grief for\nthe land of Calydon, and Atalanta went back to the Arcadian woodlands\nwith a sore place in her heart for Meleager, who had died happy because\nhis head was resting on her knee.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WINNING OF ATALANTA\n\nBy Elsie Finnimore Buckley\n\n\nOnce upon a time there ruled in Arcadian Tegea a proud-hearted king named\nSch\u0153nus. A tamer of horses was he, and a man mighty in the hunt and in\nbattle. Above every other thing he loved danger and sport and all kinds\nof manly exercise. Indeed, these things were the passion of his life,\nand he despised all womenkind because they could take no part nor lot in\nthem. And he wedded Clymene, a fair princess of a royal house, because he\nwished to raise up noble sons in his halls, who should ride and hunt with\nhim, and carry on his name when he was dead. On his wedding-day he swore\na great oath, and called upon all the gods to witness it.\n\n\u201cNever,\u201d he swore in his pride, \u201cshall a maid child live in my halls. If\na maid is born to me, she shall die ere her eyes see the light, and the\nhonor of my house shall rest upon my sons alone.\u201d\n\nFor many a long year no child was born to him, and when at last he had\nhopes of an heir, the babe that was born was a maid. When he saw the\nchild his heart was cut in two, and the pride of a father and the pride\nof his oath did battle within him for victory.\n\nThe pride of his oath conquered, for he was afraid to break his word in\nthe face of all his people. He hardened his heart, and gave orders that\nthe child should be cast out upon the mountains to die of hunger and\ncold. So the babe was given to a servant, who bore it forth and left it\non the slope of bleak Parthenium.\n\nWhen Diana, the maiden goddess, saw the child cast forth to die, she\nwas filled with anger against Sch\u0153nus, and swore that it should live.\nWherefore she sent a she-bear to the place where the child lay, and\nsoftened the heart of the beast, so that she lifted it gently in her\nmouth and bore it to the cave where her own cubs lay hid. There she\nsuckled it with her own young ones, and tended it night and day, till it\ngrew strong and could walk, and the cave rang with its laughter as it\nplayed and gambolled with the young bears. When Diana knew that the child\nwas old enough to live without its foster-mother, she sent her nymphs to\nfetch it away, and when they bore it to her she was well pleased to find\nit fair and strong.\n\n\u201cHer name shall be Atalanta,\u201d she said to them. \u201cShe shall dwell on the\nmountains and in the woods of Arcadia, and be one of my band with you. A\nmighty huntress shall she be, and the swiftest of all mortals upon earth;\nand in time she shall return to her own folk and bring joy and sorrow to\ntheir hearts.\u201d\n\nThus it came to pass that Atalanta lived with the nymphs in the woodlands\nof Arcadia. They taught her to run and to hunt, and to shoot with bow and\narrows, till soon the day came when she could do these things as well as\nany of their band. Diana loved her, and delighted to do her honor; and\nwhen the land of Calydon cried to her for mercy, because of the boar she\nhad sent to ravage it in her wrath, she decreed that none but Atalanta\nshould have the glory of that hunt. The tale of how she came to Calydon,\nand how the boar was slain at last through her, I have told you before;\nand of how death came to Meleager, because he loved her, and would not\nlet any man insult her while he stood idly by. By the fame of that hunt\nher name was carried far and wide through Greece, so that when she came\nto the funeral games of Pelias there was no need to ask who she was. She\nran in the foot race against the swiftest in the land, and won the prize\nso easily that when she reached the goal the first man had scarce passed\nthe turning-point, though he was no sluggard to make a mock of. When the\ngames were over, she went back to Arcadia without a tear or a sigh, but\nher face and her memory lived in the heart of many a man whose very name\nshe had not known.\n\nThe tale of how Atalanta went back to her own folk, and of how she was\nwooed and won, is as follows:\n\nOne day, when King Sch\u0153nus held a great hunt in the forest on the edge of\nhis domain, it chanced that Atalanta had come to those parts; and when\nshe heard the blare of the bugles and the barking of the hounds her heart\nleapt with joy. Full often had she joined in a hunt on the uplands of\nArcadia, and run with the hounds.\n\nSo now she joined in the chase as the stag broke loose from cover, and\nher white feet flashed in the sunlight as she followed the hounds across\nthe open moorland. King Sch\u0153nus, when he saw her, was glad.\n\n\u201cIt is Atalanta, the maiden huntress,\u201d he cried. \u201cSee that she be treated\nwith due courtesy, for she is the only woman on earth who is fit to look\na man in the face.\u201d\n\nAnd he rode eagerly after her. But the best horse in all that company was\nno match for Atalanta. Far ahead of them all she shot, like an arrow from\nthe bow, and when at last the stag turned at bay in a pool, she was the\nfirst to reach him. When the rest had come up, and the huntsman had slain\nthe stag, the king turned to her.\n\n\u201cAtalanta,\u201d he said, \u201cthe trophy of this chase is thine, and my huntsman\nshall bear the head of the stag whithersoever thou shalt bid him. In\ntoken of our esteem, I beg thee to accept this ring. When thou lookest\nupon it, think kindly of an old man whose heart is lonely, and who would\nfain have a daughter like thee.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke he drew off a gold ring from his finger and held it towards\nher; the tears stood in his eyes and his hand shook as he looked on her\nfair young form, and remembered the babe he had cast out on the mountains\nto die. If she had lived she would have been at an age with Atalanta, and\nperchance as fair and as strong as she; and his heart was bitter against\nhimself for the folly of his oath.\n\nWhen Atalanta heard his words, she had a mind at first to refuse his\ngift. Many a man before had offered her gifts, and she had refused them\nevery one; for she had no wish to be beholden to any man. But when she\nsaw the eyes of the old king dim with tears, and how his hand shook as\nhe held out the ring, her heart was softened, and yearned with a strange\nyearning towards him. Coming forward, she knelt at his feet and took the\nring, and held his hand and kissed it.\n\n\u201cMay the gods grant the prayer of thy heart, sire,\u201d she said, \u201cand give\nthee a daughter like unto me, but fairer and more wise than I!\u201d\n\nAs he looked down on the hand that held his own the old king trembled\nmore violently than before, for above the wrist was a birthmark like\nthe birthmark above the wrist of the babe he had cast forth to die. And\nhe knew that he made no mistake, for that mark had lived in his mind as\nthough it had been branded with red-hot steel.\n\n\u201cAtalanta,\u201d he said, \u201cthe gods have heard thy prayer. This is not the\nfirst time thy fingers have closed about mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat meanest thou, sire?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cAs many years ago as the span of thy young life,\u201d he said, \u201cI held in\nmy arms a new-born babe, the child that the gods had given me, and its\nlittle hand with a birthmark above the wrist closed about my finger\ntrustfully. But because of my foolish pride I hardened my heart. I cast\naway the gift of the gods and sent the child to die upon the mountains.\nBut the birthmark on its wrist was branded on my brain so that I could\nnot forget it. Never till this day have I seen that mark again, and now I\nsee it on thy wrist, my child.\u201d\n\nHe bowed his head as he spoke, and the tears from his eyes fell upon her\nhand, which lay in his as she knelt before him.\n\n\u201cOh, my father!\u201d she cried, and bent forward and kissed his hand.\n\nWhen he found that she did not turn from him, though she knew what he had\ndone, he was more deeply moved than before. \u201cAtalanta,\u201d he said, \u201cwhen I\ncast thee forth to die, I gave back to the gods the life they had given\nme, and now I have no right to claim it again. Yet would thy presence be\nas sunshine in my halls if thou wert to come back to me, my child.\u201d\n\nThus did the call come to Atalanta to return to her own folk, and the\nchoice lay before her. On the one side was her free life in the forest,\nwith Diana and her nymphs, the hunt, the fresh air, and all the things\nthat she loved; on the other was life within the walls of a city, and\nthe need to bow her head to the customs and the ways of men. Her heart\nmisgave her when she thought of it.\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d she said, \u201cwill a young lion step into the cage of his own\nfree will, think you?\u201d\n\nThe old king bowed his head at her words. \u201cAlas! what other answer could\nI look for?\u201d he said. \u201cI thank the gods that they have shown me thy fair\nface this day. Perchance, when we hunt again in these parts, thou wilt\njoin us for love of the chase. Till then, my child, farewell.\u201d\n\nWith trembling hands he raised her from her knees, and kissed her on\nthe forehead. Then he signed to his men to lead forward his horse, and\nmounted and rode sadly home through the forest with his company. When\nthey had gone, she sighed, and turned and went upon her way. But her eyes\nwere blind and her ears were deaf to the sights and sounds she loved so\nwell, and that night she tossed restlessly upon her couch of moss. For\nbefore her eyes was the figure of an old man bowed with sorrow, and in\nher ear his voice pleaded, trembling with longing and love.\n\nIn the early dawn she rose up from her couch, and bathed in a stream\nclose by, and gathered up her shining hair in a coil about her head. Then\nshe put on her sandals and a fresh white tunic, slung her quiver about\nher shoulders, and bow in hand went forth through the forest. Looking\nneither to the right nor to the left, she went on her way till she came\nto the white road that led to the city. Then she turned and looked back\nat the forest.\n\n\u201cDear trees and woods,\u201d she said, \u201cfarewell, and ye nymphs that dwell in\nthe streams and dance on the green sward of the mountains. When I have\ntrodden the white road and gone up to the city, I can live with you no\nmore. As for thee, great Diana, who saved me in the beginning, I will be\nthy servant for ever, and dwell a maiden all my days, and a lover of the\nhunt.\u201d So saying she stepped out bravely on the white highway, and went\nup into the city, till she came to the gate of the palace. When she had\nentered the hall, she stopped and looked about her. At first all seemed\nsilent and deserted for the folk had gone their several ways for the\nwork of the day; but at length she spied an old man sitting on a carved\nchair in one of the alcoves between the pillars. It was the king, her\nfather. He sat with his head upon his hand and his eyes downcast upon the\nfloor, and his face was sad and full of longing. And she went and knelt\nat his feet. The old man gazed for a moment in her face, as though he did\nnot see her; then he started from his chair and laid his hand upon her\nshoulder. \u201cAtalanta!\u201d he cried.\n\n\u201cMy father,\u201d she said, \u201cI have come back to thee.\u201d\n\nThen he gathered her up in his arms. \u201cOh, my child, my child!\u201d he said.\n\u201cThe gods are kind beyond my desert.\u201d\n\n\u201cThy voice cried out to me in the night-time,\u201d she said, \u201cand I could not\nshut my heart to thy pleading. The call of the free earth was strong, but\nthe call of my blood was stronger.\u201d\n\nThus did Atalanta come back to her own folk, and bring joy to the heart\nof her father and the mother who had never held her in her arms. A great\nfeast was held in the palace in her honor, and through all the city the\npeople rejoiced because of her. Suitors flocked from far and wide to\nseek her hand in marriage. But she treated them one and all with scorn,\nand vowed that she would never wed. At first her father smiled upon her,\nand looked on her refusal to wed as the sign of a noble nature, that was\nnot to be won for the asking of the first chance-comers. So he gathered\nabout him the noblest princes in the land in the hope that among them all\nthere would be one who could win her heart. But the months passed by, and\nstill she vowed that she would never wed. All her delight was in running\nand hunting, and to ride by her father\u2019s side. At length the king grew\nanxious.\n\n\u201cSurely, my child,\u201d he said, \u201camong all these princes there is one whom\nthou couldst love?\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall never love any man but thee, my father,\u201d she replied.\n\nNothing that he could say would persuade her to go back from her resolve.\nBut still he reasoned with her night and day, till at length she grew so\nwearied of the matter that she bethought of a plan that would rid her of\nall her suitors.\n\n\u201cMy father,\u201d she said, \u201cI will wed any man who shall ask for my hand, if\nhe will fulfill one condition.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy child,\u201d cried her father, \u201cI knew that in the end thou wouldst listen\nto reason. Tell me thy condition, that I may spread it abroad among those\nwho are suing for thy hand.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell them,\u201d she said, \u201cthat I will wed the first man among them who will\nrun a race with me. If he win, I will be his bride, but if he lose, he\nmust die.\u201d\n\nThe king\u2019s face fell when he heard her words. \u201cSurely thou speakest in\nmockery, Atalanta,\u201d he said. \u201cNo man in all the world can run as swiftly\nas thou canst, and they know it. Thou wilt drive thy suitors from thee;\nor if any be foolhardy enough to run with thee, they will run to a\ncertain death.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo man will run to a certain death, my father,\u201d she answered. \u201cWhen they\nknow that to sigh for me is to sigh for death, they will go back to their\nown folk, and I shall be troubled with suitors no more.\u201d\n\nSo he published abroad among the suitors the condition she had made.\nWhen they heard it there was great consternation among them, and they\nconsulted together as to what they should do, and some sent a deputation\nto her to find out the meaning of her words.\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d they asked, \u201cwhen thou speakest of death thou speakest perchance\nin parables. Those who run in the race with thee and are outstripped must\ngive up all hope of thee, and look upon thy face no more. And this would\nbe death indeed to them that love thee.\u201d\n\nBut she laughed in their faces. \u201cHe who courts death may race with me at\ndaybreak, and at sunset he shall drink the poison-cup without fail, and\nlook neither on my face again nor the face of any living thing. Have I\nspoken plainly now?\u201d\n\nThe next day there was great confusion in the halls of King Sch\u0153nus.\nThere was shouting and bustling, and attendants ran this way and that.\nChariots clattered through the gateway and drew up in the court, and\nbaggage was piled high behind the horses. And Atalanta laughed aloud at\nthe success of her scheme; for suitor after suitor came and kissed her\nhand and bade her farewell.\n\nThat night the gathering about the board was scantier than it had been\nfor many a long day. Yet a few of the suitors remained, and seemed in no\nhaste to be gone.\n\n\u201cThey are waiting for thee to fulfil thy condition,\u201d said the king.\n\nThen Atalanta herself went and pleaded with them.\n\nBut they replied, \u201cLady, thou hast given the condition of thy marrying,\nand we are waiting to fulfil it.\u201d\n\nThus was she forced to keep her word, and the lists were made ready for\nthe race, and the lots were cast among the suitors as to which of them\nshould be the first to run against her. In the early morning, before the\nsun was strong, the race was run, and all the city crowded to the course\nto watch it. The man ran well and bravely, but his speed was as child\u2019s\nplay to Atalanta. She put forth her strength like a greyhound that is\ncontent to run for a while before the horses, but when he scents a hare,\ncan leave them far behind. Even so did Atalanta run, and came in cool and\nfresh at the goal, whilst her rival ran in hot and panting behind her.\n\nThus did it come to pass that the first man drank the poison cup because\nof his love for Atalanta. With a smiling face did he drink it, as a man\ndrinks at a feast.\n\nAnd now a time of darkness and mourning fell upon the land, and many\na day in the year the city was hung with black for the sake of some\nnoble suitor who had chosen death rather than life without Atalanta. And\nAtalanta\u2019s heart was sore within her, because of the rash condition she\nhad made in her ignorance. When she would fain have recalled her words it\nwas too late, for the suitors bound her to her promise.\n\n\u201cEither give thyself of thine own free will to one of us, or else let us\ntake our chance of winning thee or death,\u201d they said.\n\nAnd she was forced to run with them. For in her heart she knew that even\ndeath was happier for a man than to win her without her love.\n\nThus were the words of Diana fulfilled when she said, \u201cIn time she shall\nreturn to her own folk, and bring joy and sorrow to their hearts.\u201d\n\nOne day it chanced that a stranger came to the city on a morning that a\nrace was to be run. The night before he had slept in a village near by,\nand the people had told him the tale of Atalanta, and how on the morrow\nanother suitor was to run to his death. But he scoffed at their words.\n\n\u201cNo man would run to certain death,\u201d he said, \u201cwere the maid as fair as\nVenus.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo and see for thyself,\u201d they replied. \u201cSoon we shall hear that thou too\nwilt run in the race.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever,\u201d he said; \u201cno woman can cheat my life from me.\u201d\n\nBut they shook their heads unconvinced. \u201cMany before thee have spoken\nlikewise,\u201d said they, \u201cand yet they have run.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I run, I will run to win,\u201d he answered.\n\n\u201cCan a snail outstrip a deer?\u201d they asked.\n\n\u201cIt might so chance,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cThou art mad,\u201d they cried.\n\n\u201cBetter to be mad on earth than sane in Hades,\u201d he replied.\n\nBut they shook their heads the more, and tapped wisely with their fingers\non their foreheads, to show that he was mad and spoke at random.\n\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d he said, with a laugh, \u201cwe shall see what we shall see.\u201d\n\nThe next morning he set forth early for the city, and, mingling with the\ncrowd, he made his way to the race-course, and found for himself a place\nwhere he could watch the whole sight with ease. The race was run, and\nended as it always ended; and once again the city was hung with black.\nBut in the mind of the stranger an image remained which had not been\nthere before\u2014the image of a maid whose white feet flashed in the sunlight\nand her tunic swung to and fro as a flag swings in the breeze.\n\n\u201cGreat Hercules!\u201d he thought within himself, \u201cto run shoulder to shoulder\nwith her for a moment, even in a race for death, might be worth the while\nafter all. I will make myself known at the palace, and see what the gods\nwill give me.\u201d\n\nFor some days he lay hid in the city, till he thought the time was ripe\nfor him to go up to the palace of the king. Then he went for a walk along\nthe highway, and when he was covered with dust and grime, he returned to\nthe city and made his way at once to the palace.\n\nWhen Atalanta saw a stranger at the board her heart sank within her, and\nshe kept her eyes turned away, as though she had not seen him, for she\nmade sure that he too had come to run in the race with her. It chanced\nthat night that the company was scanty, and no man talked in private to\nhis neighbor, but the conversation leapt from one end of the board to the\nother, as each one took his share in it and said his say. The stranger,\ntoo, took his part with the rest of them, in nowise abashed; and so\nshrewd were his words, and so full of wit, that soon he had a smile upon\nthe face of each one at the table. For many a long day the talk had not\nbeen so merry nor the laughter so loud at the table of King Sch\u0153nus.\nAtalanta, too, forgot her constraint, and talked and laughed freely with\nthe stranger; and he answered her back, as though it had been man to man,\nand showed no more deference to her than to the others of the company.\n\nWhen the meal was over, the king approached the stranger, and Atalanta\nstood beside him.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d said the king, \u201cthy name and thy country are still hid from us,\nbut we are grateful for thy coming, and would be fain for thee to stay as\nlong as it shall please thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thank thee, sire,\u201d said the stranger, \u201cbut I am bound by a strange\nvow. I may not reveal my name, nor accept hospitality for more than one\nnight from any man, till I come to a house where none other than the\nking\u2019s daughter shall promise me her hand in marriage. From the tales\nI have heard in the neighboring country, I have learnt that I may not\nhope to end my vow beneath this roof\u2014though indeed,\u201d he said, turning\nto Atalanta, \u201cI would fain press my suit if there were any chance of\nsuccess.\u201d\n\nBut Atalanta threw back her head at his words. \u201cThou hast doubtless heard\nthe condition,\u201d she said, \u201cby the fulfilment of which alone a man may win\nmy hand.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas, sir!\u201d said the king, \u201cI would press no man to try his luck in that\nventure.\u201d\n\n\u201cSince that is so,\u201d said the stranger, \u201cI will go forth once more upon my\njourney at break of day, and see what luck the gods will give me. I thank\nthee for thy kindly hospitality this night, and beg thee to excuse me. I\nhave travelled far, and would fain rest now, as I must go a long distance\nere I can rest again.\u201d\n\nThereupon he took his leave of King Sch\u0153nus and his daughter. But she,\nfor all her pride, could not forget the man who seemed to bid her\nfarewell with so light a heart.\n\nIt was her custom to rise early in the morning, before the rest of the\nhousehold was stirring, and to go forth alone into the woods; and it was\nthe lot of one of the slaves to rouse himself betimes to give her food\nere she went, so that when she appeared, as was her wont, he thought\nnothing of it. The stranger had risen even earlier than she, and the\nslave was waiting upon him.\n\n\u201cGood-morrow, sir,\u201d she said. \u201cIt is not often I have a companion when I\nbreak my fast.\u201d Then she turned to the slave, \u201cThou mayest get thee back\nto thy bed,\u201d she said, \u201cand sleep out thy sleep in peace. I will see to\nthe wants of our guest and speed him on his way.\u201d\n\nThereupon Atalanta sat down at the board beside the stranger, and they\nfell to with all the appetite of youth and health; and as they ate they\nlaughed and joked, and talked of strange lands they both had seen and\nadventures that had befallen them. In the space of one-half hour they\nwere as good friends as though they had known each other all their lives.\n\nWhen they had finished their meal the stranger rose. \u201cI must bid thee\nfarewell, lady,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cNay, not yet,\u201d she replied; \u201cI will set thee on thy way, and show thee a\nroad through the forest that will bring thee to the city thou seekest. I\nknow every track and path as well as the wild deer know them.\u201d\n\nHe tried to dissuade her, but she would not listen, and led him out from\nthe palace by a side gate, which she unbarred with her own hands. Down\nthrough the sleeping streets they went, where the shadows of the houses\nlay long upon the ground, and out across the open downs into the shade of\nthe forest. At length they came to a broad track that crossed the path\nthey were in, and Atalanta stopped short and pointed to the right.\n\n\u201cFrom here,\u201d she said, \u201cthou canst not miss thy way. Follow the track\ntill it lead thee to the highroad, and when thou strikest the highroad,\nturn to the left, and thou wilt come to the city thou seekest.\u201d\n\nThen she held out her hand to him. \u201cI must bid thee farewell,\u201d she said,\n\u201cand good luck to the ending of thy vow.\u201d\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d he said, and took her hand in his, \u201cif thou wilt, thou canst\nrelease me now from my vow.\u201d\n\nBut she drew her hand away sharply and tossed back her head. \u201cMany kings\nhave daughters besides King Sch\u0153nus,\u201d she said, \u201cand any one of them\ncould release thee from thy vow as well as I.\u201d\n\n\u201cAtalanta,\u201d he said, \u201cno king\u2019s daughter save thee shall ever release me\nfrom my vow. From the first moment that I saw thee I loved thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou knowest how thou mayest win me. Art thou willing to run in the\nrace?\u201d\n\n\u201cMuch good will my love do me if I had to drink the poison cup. Nay,\nnay,\u201d he said; \u201cI love thee too well to put my death at thy door. When I\nhave some chance of winning the race, I will come back and claim thee. In\nthe meantime, lady, farewell.\u201d\n\nAnd, bowing to her, he turned and went his way, without so much as\nlooking back at her, as she stood trembling with astonishment and anger.\n\nDay after day passed by, and he came not. \u201cHe is a man of his word,\u201d she\nthought at last. \u201cTill he has some chance of winning he will not come\nback. And he is no fool. He knows he can never run as I can run. He will\nnever come back.\u201d\n\nYet for all this she watched for him. When she went forth into the road,\nor into the forest, she looked for his form at every turn of the way.\nThe weeks and months passed by, and still he returned not; winter came\nand went, and once again the dewdrops shone in the summer sunlight as\nAtalanta walked in the forest at break of day. When by chance she raised\nher eyes, there at the parting of the ways, he stood, as though in answer\nto her thoughts.\n\n\u201cI have come back, lady,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d she cried from her heart, \u201cI am glad thou hast come back.\u201d\n\nThen he bent and kissed her hand. So once more they walked in silence\nside by side along the path they had walked before. As they drew near to\nthe edge of the forest, Atalanta was the first to speak.\n\n\u201cAnd thy vow,\u201d she asked\u2014\u201chast thou found release from it?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot yet,\u201d he answered. \u201cI am come back to run the race, that I may win\nrelease.\u201d\n\nOnce again the spirit of perversity came upon her. \u201cWhere hast thou\nlearnt to run like the wind?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cI have not learnt to run like the wind,\u201d he replied. \u201cI have learnt\nsomething better than that.\u201d\n\n\u201cFew things are better in a race than swiftness,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cTrue,\u201d he answered; \u201cyet I have found the one thing better.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is this strange thing?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cWhen we have run the race, thou wilt know,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cI have grown no sluggard,\u201d she said, with a toss of her head, as though\nto warn him that her speed was not a thing to be despised. So they came\nto the palace, and from the lowest to the highest the inmates greeted the\nstranger with joy. For he had won the hearts of them all by his wit and\nhis genial smile. But they sighed when they heard that he too had come\nto run in the fatal race.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said the old king, shaking his head, \u201cI had rather not have\nlooked upon thy face again than see thee back on such an errand.\u201d\n\nThe young man laughed. \u201cHe who runs with a fair hope of winning runs\nswiftly,\u201d he said. \u201cThe others were dragged down by the shackles of their\nown despair.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou dost not know my daughter,\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cMayhap I know her better than thou thinkest, and better than thou\nknowest her thyself,\u201d said the stranger.\n\nNo arguments or entreaties would turn him from his purpose. \u201cI must win\nrelease from my vow,\u201d he said. \u201cI cannot live all my life a nameless\nwanderer. Yet will I not wed any woman I love not, for the sake of my\nrelease. Atalanta alone can save me, for I love none other.\u201d\n\nSo the lists once again were prepared, and the course made smooth for\nthe race. The folk were gathered together round the course, and Atalanta\nand the stranger stood ready and waiting for the word to be given. She\nhad made it a condition of the race that her rivals should have a good\nstart of her, and she stood with her eyes upon the stranger\u2019s back, as\nhe waited many paces before her. All too soon the word was given, and\nhe sprang forward from his place, like a dog which has been straining\nat his leash springs forward when the hook is unloosed. And Atalanta,\ntoo, sprang forward; but whereas the man ran like a hunted thing that\nstrains every muscle to save its life, she ran with the swinging grace\nof a wild deer that, far away from the hunters and hounds, crosses the\nspringing turf of the lonely moor, fearless and proud, as he throws back\nhis antlers in the breeze. Thus did Atalanta run, as though she had no\nthought of the race, or of the man who ran for his life. Yet, though she\nseemed to make no effort, she gained upon her rival at every step, and\nnow she was running close behind him, and now she was almost shoulder to\nshoulder, and out of the corner of his eye he could see the gleam of her\ntunic. Then for a moment he slackened his pace, and it seemed that she\nwould pass him, and on every side the people shouted out to him, \u201cRun,\nrun! Faster, faster! She will pass thee.\u201d\n\nBut he put his hand into the opening of his tunic, and drew forth\nsomething from his breast. Then his hand swung up above his head, and\nfrom it there flashed a dazzling fiery apple. Up and down through the air\nit flashed like a meteor, and rolled along the grass, till it stopped far\naway in the center of the course, and lay shining like a jewel in the\nrays of the sun. Every eye was turned from the race to watch its gleaming\nflight, and Atalanta stopped short and watched it too. When she saw it\nstop still in the middle of the course, flashing and sparkling in the\ngrass, a great desire sprang up in her heart to have it\u2014a desire that she\ncould not resist. And she darted aside out of the path of the race and\nwent and picked up the shining golden apple and put it in the bosom of\nher tunic. Meanwhile the stranger had lost no time, and when Atalanta\ncame back to the spot she had left, he was far ahead upon the course, and\nshe had to run with a will if she wished to overtake him. But once again\nshe gained upon him, and the space between them grew less and less, till\nthey were running well nigh shoulder to shoulder. And once again he saw\nthe gleam of her tunic beside him; and again he slackened his speed for\na moment, and sent a second gleaming apple into the air. Once more the\ndesire sprang up in Atalanta\u2019s heart, and, leaving the course, she picked\nup the second apple and put it in the bosom of her tunic beside the\nfirst. By the time she had returned to the path the stranger had rounded\nthe turning-point and was well on his way towards the goal, and she put\nforth all her strength to overtake him. But the ease of her running was\ngone. She ran as one who runs bearing a burden, yet she would not cast\naway the golden apples in her bosom; for though they hampered her, she\ngained upon her rival, and for the third time they were running almost\nshoulder to shoulder. And again, the third time, the same thing happened,\nand Atalanta left the course to pick up the shining fruit. This time\nwhen she returned to her place the stranger was close upon the goal, and\nall around the people were shouting and waving their hands. With all the\nstrength that was left in her she made a great spurt to overtake him. If\nshe would cast away the golden apples, she might yet win the race; but\nthe same mad desire which had spurred her to pick them up forbade her\nnow to let them go. As she ran they seemed to grow heavier and heavier\nin her bosom; yet she struggled and panted on, and step by step did she\ngain upon him, though her eyes were darkened to all but his form and the\ngoal ahead. On every side the people shouted louder than before, for\nthey knew not now which of them would win. As they drew near to the goal\nthey were again almost shoulder to shoulder, and the stranger saw once\nmore the flash of Atalanta\u2019s tunic beside him, while there were yet some\npaces to run. Then he gave a great spurt forward, and leapt away from her\nside. She tried to do likewise, but her strength was gone. She had made\nher last effort before. Thus did it come to pass that the stranger ran\nin first to the goal, and, running close upon his heels, Atalanta fell\nbreathless into his arms as he turned to catch her. She had run twice\nas far as he, but what matter if he had not outsped her. He had won the\nrace. The tears shone in her eyes, but he knew they were not tears of\ngrief; and in the face of all the people he kissed her.\n\nThus was Atalanta, the swiftest of all mortals, beaten in the race by the\nstranger, and learnt from his lips what it was that he had found on his\ntravels that had made speed of no avail in the race.\n\nFor after they had come back to the city, surrounded by the joyous folk,\nand had passed hand in hand beneath the gateway; after he had revealed to\nthem all that he was Milanion, the son of Amphidamas, and the old king\nhad fallen on his neck and given him his blessing, because he proved to\nbe the son of his own boyhood\u2019s friend, and the man of all others he\nwould have chosen for his son-in-law\u2014after all this, when the speeches\nand the merrymaking were over, they two walked on the moonlit court of\nthe palace.\n\n\u201cTell me their secret,\u201d she said, and held out the fruit in her hands.\n\n\u201cTheir secret lies in thy heart, Atalanta,\u201d he answered.\n\n\u201cWhat meanest thou?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cWhen I left thee at the parting of the ways,\u201d he said, \u201cI travelled many\na weary league by land, and on the road I passed many a shrine of Venus.\nBut I never passed them by without lifting up my hands in prayer to the\ngoddess, for I knew that she could help me if she would, and I knew that\nto them that love truly she is ever kind in the end. But I wandered till\nI was footsore and weary, and yet I had no sign. At length I came to the\nseashore, and took ship for the pleasant isle of Cyprus, which is her\nhome. There at last she came to me, walking on the waves of the sea. As I\nlay on the shore in the night-time, I saw her as a great light afar, and\nshe drew near to me with the foam playing white about her feet. In her\nhand she bore three shining golden apples.\n\n\u201c\u2018Fear not, Milanion,\u2019 she said; \u2018I have heard the cry of thy heart. Here\nare three apples from mine own apple-tree. If she whom thou lovest loves\nthee in return, she cannot resist the spell of their golden brightness.\nWhen thou runnest against her, cast them one by one into the middle of\nthe course. If she love thee she will turn aside to pick them up. For her\nthey will be heavy as the gold they seem made of. For thee they will be\nlight as the fruit whose form they wear. Farewell and good luck to thy\nrace.\u2019\n\n\u201cThereupon darkness came over my eyes, and I could find no words to thank\nher. When I awoke I thought it had been a dream, but lo! by my side upon\nthe sand lay the apples, shining in the sunlight.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd thy vow?\u201d asked Atalanta. \u201cHow camest thou to make such a vow?\u201d\n\nHe laughed at her words. \u201cLong ago in my father\u2019s house I heard of thee\nand how thou couldst cast such a spell upon the hearts of men that for\nthy sake they would fling away their lives. And a great desire came upon\nme to see this thing for myself, for I could scarce believe it. So I set\nforth alone to find thee, and hid my name from all men as I journeyed,\nfor thus could I be more free to act as seemed best in mine own eyes. And\nI saw thee run in a race, and that glimpse was enough to tell me that I\ntoo one day must run with thee. Yet was I more wary than my rivals. I\nknew that to come as a suitor was the way to turn thy heart to stone.\nWherefore I pretended to be bound by a vow, which would bring me as a\npassing stranger before thee. Deep in my heart I felt that when a man\ndesires one thing on earth above every other\u2014when he loves that thing\nbetter than life itself, he is likely to win it in the end, if he walk\npatiently step by step in faith. He will win that thing, or death, in his\nstruggle for it; and he is content that so it should be.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTURNING EVERYTHING INTO GOLD\n\nBy Nathaniel Hawthorne\n\n\nOnce upon a time, there lived a very rich man, and a king besides, whose\nname was Midas; and he had a little daughter, whom nobody but myself ever\nheard of, and whose name I either never knew, or have entirely forgotten.\nSo, because I love odd names for little girls, I choose to call her\nMarygold.\n\nThis King Midas was fonder of gold than of anything else in the world. He\nvalued his royal crown chiefly because it was composed of that precious\nmetal. If he loved anything better, or half so well, it was the one\nlittle maiden who played so merrily around her father\u2019s footstool. But\nthe more Midas loved his daughter, the more did he desire and seek for\nwealth. He thought, foolish man! that the best thing he could possibly\ndo for this dear child would be to bequeath her the immensest pile of\nyellow, glistening coin that had ever been heaped together since the\nworld was made. Thus, he gave all his thoughts and all his time to\nthis one purpose. If ever he happened to gaze for an instant at the\ngold-tinted clouds of sunset, he wished that they were real gold, and\nthat they could be squeezed safely into his strong box. When little\nMarygold ran to meet him, with a bunch of buttercups and dandelions, he\nused to say, \u201cPoh, poh, child! If these flowers were as golden as they\nlook, they would be worth the plucking!\u201d\n\nAnd yet, in his earlier days, before he was so entirely possessed of this\ninsane desire for riches, King Midas had shown a great taste for flowers.\nHe had planted a garden, in which grew the biggest and beautifulest and\nsweetest roses that any mortal ever saw or smelt. These roses were still\ngrowing in the garden, as large, as lovely, and as fragrant, as when\nMidas used to pass whole hours in gazing at them, and inhaling their\nperfume. But now, if he looked at them at all, it was only to calculate\nhow much the garden would be worth if each of the innumerable rose petals\nwere a thin plate of gold. And though he once was fond of music (in spite\nof an idle story about his ears, which were said to resemble those of\nan ass), the only music for poor Midas, now, was the chink of one coin\nagainst another.\n\nAt length (as people always grow more and more foolish, unless they\ntake care to grow wiser and wiser), Midas had got to be so exceedingly\nunreasonable that he could scarcely bear to see or touch any object\nthat was not gold. He made it his custom, therefore, to pass a large\nportion of every day in a dark and dreary apartment, under ground, at\nthe basement of his palace. It was here that he kept his wealth. To this\ndismal hole\u2014for it was little better than a dungeon\u2014Midas betook himself\nwhenever he wanted to be particularly happy. Here, after carefully\nlocking the door, he would take a bag of gold coin, or a gold cup as big\nas a washbowl, or a heavy golden bar, or a peck-measure of gold-dust,\nand bring them from the obscure corners of the room into the one bright\nand narrow sunbeam that fell from the dungeon-like window. He valued the\nsunbeam for no other reason but that his treasure would not shine without\nits help. And then would he reckon over the coins in the bag; toss up\nthe bar, and catch it as it came down; sift the gold-dust through his\nfingers; look at the funny image of his own face, as reflected in the\nburnished circumference of the cup; and whisper to himself, \u201cO Midas,\nrich King Midas, what a happy man art thou!\u201d But it was laughable to\nsee how the image of his face kept grinning at him, out of the polished\nsurface of the cup. It seemed to be aware of his foolish behavior, and to\nhave a naughty inclination to make fun of him.\n\nMidas called himself a happy man, but felt that he was not yet quite\nso happy as he might be. The very tiptop of enjoyment would never be\nreached, unless the whole world were to become his treasure-room, and be\nfilled with yellow metal which should be all his own.\n\nNow, I need hardly remind such wise little people as you are, that in the\nold, old times, when King Midas was alive, a great many things came to\npass which we should consider wonderful if they were to happen in our own\nday and country. And, on the other hand, a great many things take place\nnowadays, which seem not only wonderful to us, but at which the people of\nold times would have stared their eyes out. On the whole, I regard our\nown times as the strangest of the two; but, however that may be, I must\ngo on with my story.\n\nMidas was enjoying himself in his treasure-room, one day, as usual, when\nhe perceived a shadow fall over the heaps of gold, and, looking suddenly\nup, what should he behold but the figure of a stranger, standing in the\nbright and narrow sunbeam! It was a young man, with a cheerful and ruddy\nface. Whether it was that the imagination of King Midas threw a yellow\ntinge over everything, or whatever the cause might be, he could not help\nfancying that the smile with which the stranger regarded him had a kind\nof golden radiance in it. Certainly, although his figure intercepted the\nsunshine, there was now a brighter gleam upon all the piled-up treasures\nthan before. Even the remotest corners had their share of it, and were\nlighted up, when the stranger smiled, as with tips of flame and sparkles\nof fire.\n\nAs Midas knew that he had carefully turned the key in the lock, and that\nno mortal strength could possibly break into his treasure-room, he, of\ncourse, concluded that his visitor must be something more than mortal. It\nis no matter about telling you who he was. In those days, when the earth\nwas comparatively a new affair, it was supposed to be often the resort\nof beings endowed with supernatural power, and who used to interest\nthemselves in the joys and sorrows of men, women, and children, half\nplayfully and half seriously. Midas had met such beings before now, and\nwas not sorry to meet one of them again. The stranger\u2019s aspect, indeed,\nwas so good-humored and kindly, if not beneficent, that it would have\nbeen unreasonable to suspect him of intending any mischief. It was far\nmore probable that he came to do Midas a favor. And what could that\nfavor be, unless to multiply his heaps of treasure?\n\nThe stranger gazed about the room; and when his lustrous smile had\nglistened upon all the golden objects that were there, he turned again to\nMidas.\n\n\u201cYou are a wealthy man, friend Midas!\u201d he observed. \u201cI doubt whether any\nother four walls, on earth, contain so much gold as you have contrived to\npile up in this room.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have done pretty well\u2014pretty well,\u201d answered Midas in a discontented\ntone. \u201cBut, after all, it is but a trifle, when you consider that it has\ntaken me my whole life to get it together. If one could live a thousand\nyears, he might have time to grow rich!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d exclaimed the stranger. \u201cThen you are not satisfied?\u201d\n\nMidas shook his head.\n\n\u201cAnd pray what would satisfy you?\u201d asked the stranger. \u201cMerely for the\ncuriosity of the thing, I should be glad to know.\u201d\n\nMidas paused and meditated. He felt a presentiment that this stranger,\nwith such a golden luster in his good-humored smile, had come hither with\nboth the power and the purpose of gratifying his utmost wishes. Now,\ntherefore, was the fortunate moment, when he had but to speak, and obtain\nwhatever possible, or seemingly impossible thing, it might come into his\nhead to ask. So he thought, and thought, and thought, and heaped up one\ngolden mountain upon another, in his imagination, without being able to\nimagine them big enough. At last, a bright idea occurred to King Midas.\nIt seemed really as bright as the glistening metal which he loved so much.\n\nRaising his head, he looked the lustrous stranger in the face.\n\n\u201cWell, Midas,\u201d observed his visitor, \u201cI see that you have at length hit\nupon something that will satisfy you. Tell me your wish.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is only this,\u201d replied Midas. \u201cI am weary of collecting my treasures\nwith so much trouble, and beholding the heap so diminutive, after I have\ndone my best. I wish everything that I touch to be changed to gold!\u201d\n\nThe stranger\u2019s smile grew so very broad, that it seemed to fill the room\nlike an outburst of the sun, gleaming into a shadowy dell, where the\nyellow autumnal leaves\u2014for so looked the lumps and particles of gold\u2014lie\nstrewn in the glow of light.\n\n\u201cThe Golden Touch!\u201d exclaimed he. \u201cYou certainly deserve credit, friend\nMidas, for striking out so brilliant a conception. But are you quite sure\nthat this will satisfy you?\u201d\n\n\u201cHow could it fail?\u201d said Midas.\n\n\u201cAnd will you never regret the possession of it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat could induce me?\u201d asked Midas. \u201cI ask nothing else, to render me\nperfectly happy.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe it as you wish, then,\u201d replied the stranger, waving his hand in token\nof farewell. \u201cTo-morrow at sunrise, you will find yourself gifted with\nthe Golden Touch.\u201d\n\nThe figure of the stranger then became exceedingly bright, and Midas\ninvoluntarily closed his eyes. On opening them again, he beheld only one\nyellow sunbeam in the room, and, all around him, the glistening of the\nprecious metal which he had spent his life in hoarding up.\n\nWhether Midas slept as usual that night, the story does not say. Asleep\nor awake, however, his mind was probably in the state of a child\u2019s, to\nwhom a beautiful new plaything has been promised in the morning. At any\nrate, day had hardly peeped over the hills, when King Midas was broad\nawake, and, stretching his arms out of bed, began to touch the objects\nthat were within reach. He was anxious to prove whether the Golden Touch\nhad really come, according to the stranger\u2019s promise. So he laid his\nfinger on a chair by the bedside, and on various other things, but was\ngrievously disappointed to perceive that they remained of exactly the\nsame substance as before. Indeed, he felt very much afraid that he had\nonly dreamed about the lustrous stranger, or else that the latter had\nbeen making game of him. And what a miserable affair would it be, if,\nafter all his hopes, Midas must content himself with what little gold\nhe could scrape together by ordinary means, instead of creating it by a\ntouch!\n\nAll this while, it was only the gray of the morning, with but a streak of\nbrightness along the edge of the sky, where Midas could not see it. He\nlay in a very disconsolate mood, regretting the downfall of his hopes,\nand kept growing sadder and sadder, until the earliest sunbeam shone\nthrough the window, and gilded the ceiling over his head. It seemed to\nMidas that this bright yellow sunbeam was reflected in rather a singular\nway on the white covering of the bed. Looking more closely, what was his\nastonishment and delight, when he found that his linen fabric had been\ntransmuted to what seemed a woven texture of the purest and brightest\ngold! The Golden Touch had come to him with the first sunbeam!\n\nMidas started up, in a kind of joyful frenzy, and ran about the room,\ngrasping at everything that happened to be in his way. He seized one\nof the bed-posts, and it became immediately a fluted golden pillar. He\npulled aside a window curtain, in order to admit a clear spectacle of the\nwonders which he was performing; and the tassel grew heavy in his hand\u2014a\nmass of gold. He took up a book from the table. At his first touch, it\nassumed the appearance of such a splendidly bound and gilt-edged volume\nas one often meets with nowadays; but, on running his fingers through the\nleaves, behold! it was a bundle of thin golden plates, in which all the\nwisdom of the book had grown illegible. He hurriedly put on his clothes,\nand was enraptured to see himself in a magnificent suit of gold cloth,\nwhich retained its flexibility and softness, although it burdened him\na little with its weight. He drew out his handkerchief, which little\nMarygold had hemmed for him. That was likewise gold, with the dear\nchild\u2019s neat and pretty stitches running all along the border, in gold\nthread!\n\nSomehow or other, this last transformation did not quite please King\nMidas. He would rather that his little daughter\u2019s handiwork should have\nremained just the same as when she climbed his knee and put it into his\nhand.\n\nBut it was not worth while to vex himself about a trifle. Midas now took\nhis spectacles from his pocket, and put them on his nose, in order that\nhe might see more distinctly what he was about. In those days, spectacles\nfor common people had not been invented, but were already worn by kings;\nelse, how could Midas have had any? To his great perplexity, however,\nexcellent as the glasses were, he discovered that he could not possibly\nsee through them. But this was the most natural thing in the world; for,\non taking them off, the transparent crystals turned out to be plates\nof yellow metal, and, of course, were worthless as spectacles, though\nvaluable as gold. It struck Midas as rather inconvenient that, with\nall his wealth, he could never again be rich enough to own a pair of\nserviceable spectacles.\n\n\u201cIt is no great matter, nevertheless,\u201d said he to himself, very\nphilosophically. \u201cWe cannot expect any great good, without its being\naccompanied with some small inconvenience. The Golden Touch is worth\nthe sacrifice of a pair of spectacles, at least, if not of one\u2019s very\neyesight. My own eyes will serve for ordinary purposes, and little\nMarygold will soon be old enough to read to me.\u201d\n\nWise King Midas was so exalted by his good fortune, that the palace\nseemed not sufficiently spacious to contain him. He therefore went down\nstairs, and smiled, on observing that the balustrade of the staircase\nbecame a bar of burnished gold, as his hand passed over it, in his\ndescent. He lifted the door-latch (it was brass only a moment ago, but\ngolden when his fingers quitted it), and emerged into the garden. Here,\nas it happened, he found a great number of beautiful roses in full bloom,\nand others in all the stages of lovely bud and blossom. Very delicious\nwas their fragrance in the morning breeze. Their delicate blush was one\nof the fairest sights in the world; so gentle, so modest, and so full of\nsweet tranquillity, did these roses seem to be.\n\nBut Midas knew a way to make them far more precious, according to his\nway of thinking, than roses had ever been before. So he took great\npains in going from bush to bush, and exercised his magic touch most\nindefatigably; until every individual flower and bud, and even the worms\nat the heart of some of them, were changed to gold. By the time this good\nwork was completed, King Midas was summoned to breakfast; and as the\nmorning air had given him an excellent appetite, he made haste back to\nthe palace.\n\nWhat was usually a king\u2019s breakfast in the days of Midas, I really do\nnot know, and cannot stop now to investigate. To the best of my belief,\nhowever, on this particular morning, the breakfast consisted of hot\ncakes, some nice little brook trout, roasted potatoes, fresh boiled eggs,\nand coffee, for King Midas himself, and a bowl of bread and milk for his\ndaughter Marygold. At all events, this is a breakfast fit to set before\na king; and, whether he had it or not, King Midas could not have had a\nbetter.\n\nLittle Marygold had not yet made her appearance. Her father ordered her\nto be called, and, seating himself at table, awaited the child\u2019s coming,\nin order to begin his own breakfast. To do Midas justice, he really loved\nhis daughter, and loved her so much the more this morning, on account\nof the good fortune which had befallen him. It was not a great while\nbefore he heard her coming along the passageway crying bitterly. This\ncircumstance surprised him, because Marygold was one of the cheerfullest\nlittle people whom you would see in a summer\u2019s day, and hardly shed a\nthimbleful of tears in a twelvemonth. When Midas heard her sobs, he\ndetermined to put little Marygold into better spirits, by an agreeable\nsurprise; so, leaning across the table, he touched his daughter\u2019s\nbowl (which was a china one, with pretty figures all around it), and\ntransmuted it to gleaming gold.\n\nMeanwhile, Marygold slowly and disconsolately opened the door, and showed\nherself with her apron at her eyes, still sobbing as if her heart would\nbreak.\n\n\u201cHow now, my little lady!\u201d cried Midas. \u201cPray what is the matter with\nyou, this bright morning?\u201d\n\nMarygold, without taking the apron from her eyes, held out her hand, in\nwhich was one of the roses which Midas had so recently transmuted.\n\n\u201cBeautiful!\u201d exclaimed her father. \u201cAnd what is there in this magnificent\ngolden rose to make you cry?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, dear father!\u201d answered the child, as well as her sobs would let her;\n\u201cit is not beautiful, but the ugliest flower that ever grew! As soon as I\nwas dressed I ran into the garden to gather some roses for you; because\nI know you like them, and like them the better when gathered by your\nlittle daughter. But, oh dear, dear me! What do you think has happened?\nSuch a misfortune! All the beautiful roses, that smelled so sweetly and\nhad so many lovely blushes, are blighted and spoilt! They are grown quite\nyellow, as you see this one, and have no longer any fragrance! What can\nhave been the matter with them?\u201d\n\n\u201cPoh, my dear little girl\u2014pray don\u2019t cry about it!\u201d said Midas, who\nwas ashamed to confess that he himself had wrought the change which so\ngreatly afflicted her. \u201cSit down and eat your bread and milk! You will\nfind it easy enough to exchange a golden rose like that (which will last\nhundreds of years) for an ordinary one which would wither in a day.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t care for such roses as this!\u201d cried Marygold, tossing it\ncontemptuously away. \u201cIt has no smell, and the hard petals prick my nose!\u201d\n\nThe child now sat down to table, but was so occupied with her grief\nfor the blighted roses that she did not even notice the wonderful\ntransmutation of her china bowl. Perhaps this was all the better; for\nMarygold was accustomed to take pleasure in looking at the queer figures,\nand strange trees and houses, that were painted on the circumference of\nthe bowl; and these ornaments were now entirely lost in the yellow hue of\nthe metal.\n\nMidas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee, and, as a matter of\ncourse, the coffee-pot, whatever metal it may have been when he took it\nup, was gold when he set it down. He thought to himself, that it was\nrather an extravagant style of splendor, in a king of his simple habits,\nto breakfast off a service of gold, and began to be puzzled with the\ndifficulty of keeping his treasures safe. The cupboard and the kitchen\nwould no longer be a secure place of deposit for articles so valuable as\ngolden bowls and coffee-pots.\n\nAmid these thoughts, he lifted a spoonful of coffee to his lips, and,\nsipping it, was astonished to perceive that, the instant his lips touched\nthe liquid, it became molten gold, and, the next moment hardened into a\nlump!\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d exclaimed Midas, rather aghast.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter, father?\u201d asked little Marygold, gazing at him, with\nthe tears still standing in her eyes.\n\n\u201cNothing, child, nothing!\u201d said Midas. \u201cEat your milk, before it gets\nquite cold.\u201d\n\nHe took one of the nice little trouts on his plate, and, by way of\nexperiment, touched its tail with his finger. To his horror, it was\nimmediately transmuted from an admirably fried brook-trout into a\ngold-fish, though not one of those gold-fishes which people often keep\nin glass globes, as ornaments for the parlor. No; but it was really a\nmetallic fish, and looked as if it had been very cunningly made by the\nnicest goldsmith in the world. Its little bones were now golden wires;\nits fins and tail were thin plates of gold; and there were the marks of\nthe fork in it, and all the delicate, frothy appearance of a nicely fried\nfish, exactly imitated in metal. A very pretty piece of work, as you may\nsuppose; only King Midas, just at that moment, would much rather have\nhad a real trout in his dish than this elaborate and valuable imitation\nof one.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t quite see,\u201d thought he to himself, \u201chow I am to get any\nbreakfast!\u201d\n\nHe took one of the smoking-hot cakes, and had scarcely broken it, when,\nto his cruel mortification, though, a moment before, it had been of the\nwhitest wheat, it assumed the yellow hue of Indian meal. To say the\ntruth, if it had really been a hot Indian cake, Midas would have prized\nit a good deal more than he now did, when its solidity and increased\nweight made him too bitterly sensible that it was gold. Almost in\ndespair, he helped himself to a boiled egg, which immediately underwent\na change similar to those of the trout and the cake. The egg, indeed,\nmight have been mistaken for one of those which the famous goose, in the\nstory-book, was in the habit of laying; but King Midas was the only goose\nthat had had anything to do with the matter.\n\n\u201cWell, this is a quandary!\u201d thought he, leaning back in his chair, and\nlooking quite enviously at little Marygold, who was not eating her bread\nand milk with great satisfaction. \u201cSuch a costly breakfast before me, and\nnothing that can be eaten!\u201d\n\nHoping that, by dint of great dispatch, he might avoid what he now felt\nto be a considerable inconvenience, King Midas next snatched a hot\npotato, and attempted to cram it into his mouth, and swallow it in a\nhurry. But the Golden Touch was too nimble for him. He found his mouth\nfull, not of mealy potato, but of solid metal, which so burnt his tongue\nthat he roared aloud, and, jumping up from the table, began to dance and\nstamp about the room both with pain and affright.\n\n\u201cFather, dear father!\u201d cried little Marygold, who was a very affectionate\nchild, \u201cpray what is the matter? Have you burnt your mouth?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, dear child,\u201d groaned Midas, dolefully, \u201cI don\u2019t know what is to\nbecome of your poor father!\u201d\n\nAnd, truly, my dear little folks, did you ever hear of such a pitiable\ncase in all your lives? Here was literally the richest breakfast that\ncould be set before a king, and its very richness made it absolutely good\nfor nothing. The poorest laborer, sitting down to his crust of bread and\ncup of water, was far better off than King Midas, whose delicate food\nwas really worth its weight in gold. And what was to be done? Already,\nat breakfast, Midas was excessively hungry. Would he be less so by\ndinner-time? And how ravenous would be his appetite for supper, which\nmust undoubtedly consist of the same sort of indigestible dishes as those\nnow before him! How many days, think you, would he survive a continuance\nof this rich fare?\n\nThese reflections so troubled wise King Midas, that he began to doubt\nwhether, after all, riches are the one desirable thing in the world,\nor even the most desirable. But this was only a passing thought. So\nfascinated was Midas with the glitter of the yellow metal, that he\nwould still have refused to give up the Golden Touch for so paltry a\nconsideration as a breakfast. Just imagine what a price for one meal\u2019s\nvictuals. It would have been the same as paying millions and millions of\nmoney (and as many millions more as would take forever to reckon up) for\nsome fried trout, an egg, a potato, a hot cake, and a cup of coffee!\n\n\u201cIt would be quite too dear,\u201d thought Midas.\n\nNevertheless, so great was his hunger, and the perplexity of his\nsituation, that he again groaned aloud, and very grievously, too. Our\npretty Marygold could endure it no longer. She sat, a moment, gazing\nat her father, and trying, with all the might of her little wits, to\nfind out what was the matter with him. Then, with a sweet and sorrowful\nimpulse to comfort him, she started from her chair, and, running to\nMidas, threw her arms affectionately about his knees. He bent down and\nkissed her. He felt that his little daughter\u2019s love was worth a thousand\ntimes more than he had gained by the Golden Touch.\n\n\u201cMy precious, precious Marygold!\u201d cried he.\n\nBut Marygold made no answer.\n\nAlas, what had he done? How fatal was the gift which the stranger\nbestowed! The moment the lips of Midas touched Marygold\u2019s forehead, a\nchange had taken place. Her sweet, rosy face, so full of affection as\nit had been, assumed a glittering yellow color, with yellow tear-drops,\ncongealing on her cheeks. Her beautiful brown ringlets took the same\ntint. Her soft and tender little form grew hard and inflexible within\nher father\u2019s encircling arms. Oh, terrible misfortune! The victim of\nhis insatiable desire for wealth, little Marygold was a human child no\nlonger, but a golden statue!\n\nYes, there she was, with the questioning look of love, grief, and pity,\nhardened into her face. It was the prettiest and most woeful sight that\never mortal saw. All the features and tokens of Marygold were there;\neven the beloved little dimple remained in her gold chin. But, the\nmore perfect was the resemblance, the greater was the father\u2019s agony\nat beholding this golden image, which was all that was left him of a\ndaughter. It had been a favorite phrase of Midas, whenever he felt\nparticularly fond of the child, to say that she was worth her weight in\ngold. And now the phrase had become literally true. And now, at last,\nwhen it was too late, he felt how infinitely a warm and tender heart\nthat loved him, exceeded in value all the wealth that could be piled up\nbetwixt the earth and sky!\n\nIt would be too sad a story, if I were to tell you how Midas, in the\nfulness of all his gratified desires, began to wring his hands and bemoan\nhimself; and how he could neither bear to look at Marygold, nor yet to\nlook away from her. Except when his eyes were fixed on the image, he\ncould not possibly believe that she was changed to gold. But, stealing\nanother glance, there was the precious little figure, with a yellow\ntear-drop on its yellow cheek, and a look so piteous and tender, that it\nseemed as if that very expression must needs soften the gold and make it\nflesh again. This, however, could not be. So Midas had only to wring his\nhands, and to wish that he were the poorest man in the wide world, if the\nloss of all his wealth might bring back the faintest rose-color to his\ndear child\u2019s face.\n\nWhile he was in this tumult of despair, he suddenly beheld a stranger\nstanding near the door. Midas bent down his head, without speaking; for\nhe recognized the same figure which had appeared to him, the day before,\nin the treasure-room, and had bestowed on him this disastrous faculty of\nthe Golden Touch. The stranger\u2019s countenance still wore a smile, which\nseemed to shed a yellow luster all about the room, and gleamed on little\nMarygold\u2019s image, and on the other objects that had been transmuted by\nthe touch of Midas.\n\n\u201cWell, friend Midas,\u201d said the stranger, \u201cpray how do you succeed with\nthe Golden Touch?\u201d\n\nMidas shook his head.\n\n\u201cI am very miserable,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cVery miserable, indeed!\u201d exclaimed the stranger. \u201cAnd how happens that?\nHave I not faithfully kept my promise with you? Have you not everything\nthat your heart desired?\u201d\n\n\u201cGold is not everything,\u201d answered Midas. \u201cAnd I have lost all that my\nheart really cared for.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! So you have made a discovery, since yesterday?\u201d observed the\nstranger. \u201cLet us see, then. Which of these two things do you think is\nreally worth the most\u2014the gift of the Golden Touch, or one cup of clear\ncold water?\u201d\n\n\u201cO blessed water!\u201d exclaimed Midas. \u201cIt will never moisten my parched\nthroat again!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Golden Touch,\u201d continued the stranger, \u201cor a crust of bread?\u201d\n\n\u201cA piece of bread,\u201d answered Midas, \u201cis worth all the gold on earth!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Golden Touch,\u201d asked the stranger, \u201cor your own little Marygold,\nwarm, soft and loving as she was an hour ago?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh my child, my dear child!\u201d cried poor Midas, wringing his hands. \u201cI\nwould not have given that one small dimple in her chin for the power of\nchanging this whole big earth into a solid lump of gold!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are wiser than you were, King Midas!\u201d said the stranger, looking\nseriously at him. \u201cYour own heart, I perceive, has not been entirely\nchanged from flesh to gold. Were it so, your case would indeed be\ndesperate. But you appear to be still capable of understanding that the\ncommonest things, such as lie within everybody\u2019s grasp, are more valuable\nthan the riches which so many mortals sigh and struggle after. Tell me,\nnow, do you sincerely desire to rid yourself of this Golden Touch?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is hateful to me!\u201d replied Midas.\n\nA fly settled on his nose, but immediately fell to the floor; for it,\ntoo, had become gold. Midas shuddered.\n\n\u201cGo, then,\u201d said the stranger, \u201cand plunge into the river that glides\npast the bottom of your garden. Take likewise a vase of the same water,\nand sprinkle it over any object that you may desire to change back again\nfrom gold into its former substance. If you do this in earnestness and\nsincerity, it may possibly repair the mischief which your avarice has\noccasioned.\u201d\n\nKing Midas bowed low; and when he lifted his head, the lustrous stranger\nhad vanished.\n\nYou will easily believe that Midas lost no time in snatching up a great\nearthen pitcher (but, alas me! it was no longer earthen after he touched\nit), and hastening to the river-side. As he scampered along, and forced\nhis way through the shrubbery, it was positively marvellous to see how\nthe foliage turned yellow behind him, as if the autumn had been there,\nand nowhere else. On reaching the river\u2019s brink, he plunged headlong in,\nwithout waiting so much as to pull off his shoes.\n\n\u201cPoof! poof! poof!\u201d snorted King Midas, as his head emerged out of the\nwater. \u201cWell; this is really a refreshing bath, and I think it must have\nquite washed away the Golden Touch. And now for filling my pitcher!\u201d\n\nAs he dipped the pitcher into the water, it gladdened his very heart to\nsee it change from gold into the same good, honest earthen vessel which\nit had been before he touched it. He was conscious, also, of a change\nwithin himself. A cold, hard, and heavy weight seemed to have gone out\nof his bosom. No doubt, his heart had been gradually losing its human\nsubstance, and transmuting itself into insensible metal, but had now\nsoftened back again into flesh. Perceiving a violet, that grew on the\nbank of the river, Midas touched it with his finger, and was overjoyed\nto find that the delicate flower retained its purple hue, instead of\nundergoing a yellow blight. The curse of the Golden Touch had, therefore,\nreally been removed from him.\n\nKing Midas hastened back to the palace; and, I suppose, the servants knew\nnot what to make of it when they saw their royal master so carefully\nbringing home an earthen pitcher of water. But that water, which was to\nundo all the mischief that his folly had wrought, was more precious to\nMidas than an ocean of molten gold could have been. The first thing he\ndid, as you need hardly be told, was to sprinkle it by handfuls over the\ngolden figure of little Marygold.\n\nNo sooner did it fall on her than you would have laughed to see how the\nrosy color came back to the dear child\u2019s cheek! and how she began to\nsneeze and sputter!\u2014and how astonished she was to find herself dripping\nwet, and her father still throwing more water over her!\n\n\u201cPray do not, dear father!\u201d cried she. \u201cSee how you have wet my nice\nfrock, which I put on only this morning!\u201d\n\nFor Marygold did not know that she had been a little golden statue; nor\ncould she remember anything that had happened since the moment when she\nran with outstretched arms to comfort poor King Midas.\n\nHer father did not think it necessary to tell his beloved child how very\nfoolish he had been, but contented himself with showing how much wiser he\nhad now grown. For this purpose, he led little Marygold into the garden,\nwhere he sprinkled all the remainder of the water over the rose-bushes,\nand with such good effect that above five thousand roses recovered their\nbeautiful bloom. There were two circumstances, however, which, as long as\nhe lived, used to put King Midas in mind of the Golden Touch. One was,\nthat the sands of the river sparkled like gold; the other, that little\nMarygold\u2019s hair had now a golden tinge, which he had never observed in it\nbefore she had been transmuted by the effect of his kiss. This change of\nhue was really an improvement, and made Marygold\u2019s hair richer than in\nher babyhood.\n\nWhen King Midas had grown quite an old man and used to trot Marygold\u2019s\nchildren on his knee he was fond of telling them this marvellous story,\npretty much as I have told it to you. And then would he stroke their\nglossy ringlets, and tell them that their hair, likewise, had a rich\nshade of gold, which they had inherited from their mother.\n\n\u201cAnd to tell you the truth, my precious little folks,\u201d quoth King Midas,\ndiligently trotting the children all the while, \u201cever since that morning,\nI have hated the very sight of all other gold, save this!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE POMEGRANATE SEEDS\n\nBy Nathaniel Hawthorne\n\n\nMother Ceres was exceedingly fond of her daughter Proserpina, and seldom\nlet her go alone into the fields. But, just at the time when my story\nbegins, the good lady was very busy, because she had the care of the\nwheat, and the Indian corn, and the rye and barley, and, in short, of the\ncrops of every kind, all over the earth; and as the season had thus far\nbeen uncommonly backward, it was necessary to make the harvest ripen more\nspeedily than usual. So she put on her turban, made of poppies (a kind\nof flower which she was always noted for wearing), and got into her car,\ndrawn by a pair of winged dragons, and was just ready to set off.\n\n\u201cDear mother,\u201d said Proserpina, \u201cI shall be very lonely while you are\naway. May I not run down to the shore, and ask some of the sea-nymphs to\ncome up out of the waves and play with me?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, child,\u201d answered Mother Ceres. \u201cThe sea-nymphs are good creatures,\nand will never lead you into any harm. But you must take care not to\nstray away from them, nor go wandering about the fields by yourself.\nYoung girls, without their mothers to take care of them, are very apt to\nget into mischief.\u201d\n\nThe child promised to be as prudent as if she were a grown-up woman, and,\nby the time the winged dragons had whirled the car out of sight, she was\nalready on the shore, calling to the sea-nymphs to come and play with\nher. They knew Proserpina\u2019s voice, and were not long in showing their\nglistening faces and sea-green hair above the water, at the bottom of\nwhich was their home. They brought along with them a great many beautiful\nshells; and, sitting down on the moist sand, where the surf wave broke\nover them, they busied themselves in making a necklace, which they hung\naround Proserpina\u2019s neck. By way of showing her gratitude, the child\nbesought them to go with her a little way into the field, so that they\nmight gather abundance of flowers, with which she would make each of her\nkind playmates a wreath.\n\n\u201cOh no, dear Proserpina,\u201d cried the sea-nymphs; \u201cwe dare not go with you\nupon the dry land. We are apt to grow faint, unless at every breath we\ncan snuff up the salt breeze of the ocean. And don\u2019t you see how careful\nwe are to let the surf wave break over us every moment or two, so as to\nkeep ourselves comfortably moist? If it were not for that, we should soon\nlook like bunches of uprooted sea-weed dried in the sun.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a great pity,\u201d said Proserpina. \u201cBut do you wait for me here, and\nI will run and gather my apron full of flowers, and be back again before\nthe surf wave has broken ten times over you. I long to make you some\nwreaths that shall be as lovely as this necklace of many-colored shells.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will wait, then,\u201d answered the sea-nymphs. \u201cBut while you are gone,\nwe may as well lie down on a bank of soft sponge, under the water. The\nair to-day is a little too dry for our comfort. But we will pop up our\nheads every few minutes to see if you are coming.\u201d\n\nThe young Proserpina ran quickly to a spot where, only the day before,\nshe had seen a great many flowers. These, however, were now a little past\ntheir bloom; and wishing to give her friends the freshest and loveliest\nblossoms, she strayed farther into the fields, and found some that made\nher scream with delight. Never had she met with such exquisite flowers\nbefore\u2014violets, so large and fragrant\u2014roses, with so rich and delicate\na blush\u2014such superb hyacinths and such aromatic pinks\u2014and many others,\nsome of which seemed to be of new shapes and colors. Two or three times,\nmoreover, she could not help thinking that a tuft of most splendid\nflowers had suddenly sprouted out of the earth before her very eyes, as\nif on purpose to tempt her a few steps farther. Proserpina\u2019s apron was\nsoon filled and brimming over with delightful blossoms. She was on the\npoint of turning back in order to rejoin the sea-nymphs, and sit with\nthem on the moist sands, all twining wreaths together. But, a little\nfarther on, what should she behold? It was a large shrub, completely\ncovered with the most magnificent flowers in the world.\n\n\u201cThe darlings!\u201d cried Proserpina; and then she thought to herself, \u201cI was\nlooking at that spot only a moment ago. How strange it is that I did not\nsee the flowers!\u201d\n\nThe nearer she approached the shrub, the more attractive it looked, until\nshe came quite close to it; and then, although its beauty was richer than\nwords can tell, she hardly knew whether to like it or not. It bore above\na hundred flowers of the most brilliant hues, and each different from\nthe others, but all having a kind of resemblance among themselves, which\nshowed them to be sister blossoms. But there was a deep, glossy luster\non the leaves of the shrub, and on the petals of the flowers, that made\nProserpina doubt whether they might not be poisonous. To tell you the\ntruth, foolish as it may seem, she was half inclined to turn round and\nrun away.\n\n\u201cWhat a silly child I am!\u201d thought she, taking courage. \u201cIt is really the\nmost beautiful shrub that ever sprang out of the earth. I will pull it up\nby the roots, and carry it home, and plant it in my mother\u2019s garden.\u201d\n\nHolding up her apron full of flowers with her left hand, Proserpina\nseized the large shrub with the other, and pulled and pulled, but was\nhardly able to loosen the soil about its roots. What a deep-rooted plant\nit was! Again the girl pulled with all her might, and observed that the\nearth began to stir and crack to some distance around the stem. She gave\nanother pull, but relaxed her hold, fancying that there was a rumbling\nsound right beneath her feet. Did the roots extend down into some\nenchanted cavern? Then, laughing at herself for so childish a notion, she\nmade another effort; up came the shrub, and Proserpina staggered back,\nholding the stem triumphantly in her hand, and gazing at the deep hole\nwhich its roots had left in the soil.\n\nMuch to her astonishment, this hole kept spreading wider and wider, and\ngrowing deeper and deeper, until it really seemed to have no bottom; and\nall the while, there came a rumbling noise out of its depths, louder and\nlouder, and nearer and nearer, and sounding like the tramp of horses\u2019\nhoofs and the rattling of wheels. Too much frightened to run away, she\nstood straining her eyes into this wonderful cavity, and soon saw a team\nof four sable horses snorting smoke out of their nostrils, and tearing\ntheir way out of the earth with a splendid golden chariot whirling at\ntheir heels. They leaped out of the bottomless hole, chariot and all;\nand there they were, tossing their black manes, flourishing their black\ntails, and curvetting with every one of their hoofs off the ground at\nonce, close by the spot where Proserpina stood. In the chariot sat the\nfigure of a man, richly dressed, with a crown on his head, all flaming\nwith diamonds. He was of a noble aspect, and rather handsome, but looked\nsullen and discontented; and he kept rubbing his eyes and shading them\nwith his hand, as if he did not live enough in the sunshine to be very\nfond of its light.\n\nAs soon as this personage saw the affrighted Proserpina, he beckoned her\nto come a little nearer.\n\n\u201cDo not be afraid,\u201d said he, with as cheerful a smile as he knew how to\nput on. \u201cCome! Will not you like to ride a little way with me, in my\nbeautiful chariot?\u201d\n\nBut Proserpina was so alarmed, that she wished for nothing but to get\nout of his reach. And no wonder. The stranger did not look remarkably\ngood-natured, in spite of his smile; and as for his voice, its tones were\ndeep and stern, and sounded as much like the rumbling of an earthquake\nunder ground as anything else. As is always the case with children in\ntrouble, Proserpina\u2019s first thought was to call for her mother.\n\n\u201cMother, Mother Ceres!\u201d cried she, all in a tremble. \u201cCome quickly and\nsave me.\u201d\n\nBut her voice was too faint for her mother to hear. Indeed, it is most\nprobable that Ceres was then a thousand miles off, making the corn grow\nin some far-distant country. Nor could it have availed her poor daughter,\neven had she been within hearing; for no sooner did Proserpina begin to\ncry out, than the stranger leaped to the ground, caught the child in his\narms, and again mounting the chariot, shook the reins, and shouted to\nthe four black horses to set off. They immediately broke into so swift\na gallop that it seemed rather like flying through the air than running\nalong the earth. In a moment, Proserpina lost sight of the pleasant vale\nof Enna, in which she had always dwelt. Another instant and even the\nsummit of Mount \u00c6tna had become so blue in the distance, that she could\nscarcely distinguish it from the smoke that gushed out of its crater. But\nstill the poor child screamed, and scattered her apron full of flowers\nalong the way, and left a long cry trailing behind the chariot; and many\nmothers, to whose ears it came, ran quickly to see if any mischief had\nbefallen their children. But Mother Ceres was a great way off, and could\nnot hear the cry.\n\nAs they rode on, the stranger did his best to soothe her.\n\n\u201cWhy should you be so frightened, my pretty child,\u201d said he, trying to\nsoften his rough voice. \u201cI promise not to do you any harm. What! You have\nbeen gathering flowers? Wait till we come to my palace, and I will give\nyou a garden full of prettier flowers than those, all made of pearls, and\ndiamonds, and rubies. Can you guess who I am? They call my name Pluto,\nand I am the king of diamonds and all other precious stones. Every atom\nof the gold and silver that lies under the earth belongs to me, to say\nnothing of the copper and iron, and of the coal-mines, which supply me\nwith abundance of fuel. Do you see this splendid crown upon my head? You\nmay have it for a plaything. Oh, we shall be very good friends, and you\nwill find me more agreeable than you expect, when once we get out of this\ntroublesome sunshine.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me go home!\u201d cried Proserpina\u2014\u201clet me go home!\u201d\n\n\u201cMy home is better than your mother\u2019s,\u201d answered King Pluto. \u201cIt is\na palace, all made of gold, and crystal windows; and because there is\nlittle or no sunshine thereabouts, the apartments are illuminated with\ndiamond lamps. You never saw anything half so magnificent as my throne.\nIf you like, you may sit down on it, and be my little queen, and I will\nsit on the footstool.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t care for golden palaces and thrones,\u201d sobbed Proserpina. \u201cOh, my\nmother, my mother! Carry me back to my mother!\u201d\n\nBut King Pluto, as he called himself, only shouted to his steeds to go\nfaster.\n\n\u201cPray do not be foolish, Proserpina,\u201d said he, in rather a sullen tone.\n\u201cI offer you my palace and my crown, and all the riches that are under\nthe earth, and you treat me as if I were doing you an injury. The one\nthing which my palace needs is a merry little maid, to run upstairs and\ndown, and cheer up the rooms with her smile. And this is what you must do\nfor King Pluto.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d answered Proserpina, looking as miserable as she could. \u201cI shall\nnever smile again till you set me down at my mother\u2019s door.\u201d\n\nBut she might just as well have talked to the wind that whistled\npast them; for Pluto urged on his horses, and went faster than ever.\nProserpina continued to cry out, and screamed so long and so loudly that\nher poor little voice was almost screamed away; and when it was nothing\nbut a whisper, she happened to cast her eyes over a great, broad field of\nwaving grain\u2014and whom do you think she saw? Who, but Mother Ceres, making\nthe corn grow, and too busy to notice the golden chariot as it went\nrattling along. The child mustered all her strength, and gave one more\nscream, but was out of sight before Ceres had time to turn her head.\n\nKing Pluto had taken a road which now began to grow excessively gloomy.\nIt was bordered on each side with rocks and precipices, between which the\nrumbling of the chariot-wheels was reverberated with a noise like rolling\nthunder. The trees and bushes that grew in the crevices of the rocks had\nvery dismal foliage; and by and by, although it was hardly noon, the air\nbecame obscured with a gray twilight. The black horses had rushed along\nso swiftly, that they were already beyond the limits of the sunshine.\nBut the duskier it grew, the more did Pluto\u2019s visage assume an air of\nsatisfaction. After all, he was not an ill-looking person, especially\nwhen he left off twisting his features into a smile that did not belong\nto them. Proserpina peeped at his face through the gathering dusk, and\nhoped that he might not be so very wicked as she at first thought him.\n\n\u201cAh, this twilight is truly refreshing,\u201d said King Pluto, \u201cafter being so\ntormented with that ugly and impertinent glare of the sun. How much more\nagreeable is lamplight or torchlight, more particularly when reflected\nfrom diamonds! It will be a magnificent sight when we get to my palace.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it much farther?\u201d asked Proserpina. \u201cAnd will you carry me back when\nI have seen it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will talk of that by and by,\u201d answered Pluto. \u201cWe are just entering\nmy dominions. Do you see that tall gateway before us? When we pass\nthose gates, we are at home. And there lies my faithful mastiff at the\nthreshold. Cerberus! Cerberus! Come hither, my good dog!\u201d\n\nSo saying, Pluto pulled at the reins, and stopped the chariot right\nbetween the tall, massive pillars of the gateway. The mastiff of which\nhe had spoken got up from the threshold, and stood on his hinder legs,\nso as to put his forepaws on the chariot-wheel. But, my stars, what a\nstrange dog it was! Why, he was a big, rough, ugly-looking monster, with\nthree separate heads, and each of them fiercer than the two others; but,\nfierce as they were, King Pluto patted them all. He seemed as fond of his\nthree-headed dog as if it had been a sweet little spaniel, with silken\nears and curly hair. Cerberus, on the other hand, was evidently rejoiced\nto see his master, and expressed his attachment, as other dogs do, by\nwagging his tail at a great rate. Proserpina\u2019s eyes being drawn to it by\nits brisk motion, she saw that this tail was neither more nor less than a\nlive dragon, with fiery eyes, and fangs that had a very poisonous aspect.\nAnd while the three-headed Cerberus was fawning so lovingly on King\nPluto, there was the dragon tail wagging against its will, and looking as\ncross and ill-natured as you can imagine, on its own separate account.\n\n\u201cWill the dog bite me?\u201d asked Proserpina, shrinking closer to Pluto.\n\u201cWhat an ugly creature he is!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, never fear,\u201d answered her companion. \u201cHe never harms people, unless\nthey try to enter my dominions without being sent for, or to get away\nwhen I wish to keep them here. Down, Cerberus! Now, my pretty Proserpina,\nwe will drive on.\u201d\n\nOn went the chariot, and King Pluto seemed greatly pleased to find\nhimself once more in his own kingdom. He drew Proserpina\u2019s attention to\nthe rich veins of gold that were to be seen among the rocks, and pointed\nto several places where one stroke of a pick-axe would loosen a bushel of\ndiamonds. All along the road, indeed, there were sparkling gems, which\nwould have been of inestimable value above ground, but which were here\nreckoned of the meaner sort, and hardly worth a beggar\u2019s stooping for.\n\nNot far from the gateway, they came to a bridge, which seemed to be\nbuilt of iron. Pluto stopped the chariot, and bade Proserpina look at\nthe stream which was gliding so lazily beneath it. Never in her life had\nshe beheld so torpid, so black, so muddy-looking a stream: its waters\nreflected no images of anything that was on the banks, and it moved as\nsluggishly as if it had quite forgotten which way it ought to flow, and\nhad rather stagnate than flow either one way or the other.\n\n\u201cThis is the river Lethe,\u201d observed King Pluto. \u201cIs it not a very\npleasant stream?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think it a very dismal one,\u201d said Proserpina.\n\n\u201cIt suits my taste, however,\u201d answered Pluto, who was apt to be sullen\nwhen anybody disagreed with him. \u201cAt all events, its water has one very\nexcellent quality; for a single draught of it makes people forget every\ncare and sorrow that has hitherto tormented them. Only sip a little of\nit, my dear Proserpina, and you will instantly cease to grieve for your\nmother, and will have nothing in your memory that can prevent your being\nperfectly happy in my palace. I will send for some, in a golden goblet,\nthe moment we arrive.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, no, no, no!\u201d cried Proserpina, weeping afresh. \u201cI had a thousand\ntimes rather be miserable with remembering my mother, than be happy in\nforgetting her. That dear, dear mother! I never, never will forget her.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe shall see,\u201d said King Pluto. \u201cYou do not know what fine times we will\nhave in my palace. Here we are just at the portal. These pillars are\nsolid gold, I assure you.\u201d\n\nHe alighted from the chariot, and taking Proserpina in his arms, carried\nher up a lofty flight of steps into the great hall of the palace.\nIt was splendidly illuminated by means of large precious stones, of\nvarious hues, which seemed to burn like so many lamps, and glowed with a\nhundredfold radiance all through the vast apartment. And yet there was\na kind of gloom in the midst of this enchanted light; nor was there a\nsingle object in the hall that was really agreeable to behold, except the\nlittle Proserpina herself, a lovely child, with one earthly flower which\nshe had not let fall from her hand. It is my opinion that even King Pluto\nhad never been happy in his palace, and that this was the true reason\nwhy he had stolen away Proserpina, in order that he might have something\nto love, instead of cheating his heart any longer with this tiresome\nmagnificence. And, though he pretended to dislike the sunshine of the\nupper world, yet the effect of the child\u2019s presence, bedimmed as she was\nby her tears, was as if a faint and watery sunbeam had somehow or other\nfound its way into the enchanted hall.\n\nPluto now summoned his domestics, and bade them lose no time in preparing\na most sumptuous banquet, and above all things, not to fail of setting a\ngolden beaker of the water of Lethe by Proserpina\u2019s plate.\n\n\u201cI will neither drink that nor anything else,\u201d said Proserpina. \u201cNor will\nI taste a morsel of food, even if you keep me forever in your palace.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should be sorry for that,\u201d replied King Pluto, patting her cheek; for\nhe really wished to be kind, if he had only known how. \u201cYou are a spoiled\nchild, I perceive, my little Proserpina; but when you see the nice things\nwhich my cook will make for you, your appetite will quickly come again.\u201d\n\nThen, sending for the head cook, he gave strict orders that all sorts\nof delicacies, such as young people are usually fond of, should be set\nbefore Proserpina. He had a secret motive in this; for, you are to\nunderstand, it is a fixed law, that, when persons are carried off to the\nland of magic, if they once taste any food there, they can never get back\nto their friends. Now, if King Pluto had been cunning enough to offer\nProserpina some fruit, or bread and milk (which was the simple fare to\nwhich the child had always been accustomed), it is very probable that she\nwould soon have been tempted to eat it. But he left the matter entirely\nto his cook, who, like all other cooks, considered nothing fit to eat\nunless it were rich pastry, or highly seasoned meat, or spiced sweet\ncakes\u2014things which Proserpina\u2019s mother had never given her, and the smell\nof which quite took away her appetite, instead of sharpening it.\n\nBut my story must now clamber out of King Pluto\u2019s dominions, and see\nwhat Mother Ceres has been about, since she was bereft of her daughter.\nWe had a glimpse of her, as you remember, half hidden among the waving\ngrain, while the four black steeds were swiftly whirling along the\nchariot in which her beloved Proserpina was so unwillingly borne away.\nYou recollect, too, the loud scream which Proserpina gave, just when the\nchariot was out of sight.\n\nOf all the child\u2019s outcries, this last shriek was the only one that\nreached the ears of Mother Ceres. She had mistaken the rumbling of the\nchariot-wheels for a peal of thunder, and imagined that a shower was\ncoming up, and that it would assist her in making the corn grow. But,\nat the sound of Proserpina\u2019s shriek, she started, and looked about in\nevery direction, not knowing whence it came, but feeling almost certain\nthat it was her daughter\u2019s voice. It seemed so unaccountable, however,\nthat the girl should have strayed over so many lands and seas (which she\nherself could not have traversed without the aid of her winged dragons),\nthat the good Ceres tried to believe that it must be the child of some\nother parent, and not her own darling Proserpina, who had uttered this\nlamentable cry. Nevertheless, it troubled her with a vast many tender\nfears, such as are ready to bestir themselves in every mother\u2019s heart,\nwhen she finds it necessary to go away from her dear children without\nleaving them under the care of some maiden aunt, or other such faithful\nguardian.\n\nSo she quickly left the field in which she had been so busy; and, as her\nwork was not half done, the grain looked, next day, as if it needed both\nsun and rain, and as if it were blighted in the ear, and had something\nthe matter with its roots.\n\nThe pair of dragons must have had very nimble wings; for, in less than\nan hour, Mother Ceres had alighted at the door of her home, and found\nit empty. Knowing, however, that the child was fond of sporting on the\nseashore, she hastened thither as fast as she could, and there beheld the\nwet faces of the poor sea-nymphs peeping over a wave. All this while, the\ngood creatures had been waiting on the bank of sponge, and, once every\nhalf-minute or so, had popped up their four heads above water, to see if\ntheir playmate were yet coming back. When they saw Mother Ceres, they sat\ndown on the crest of the surf wave, and let it toss them ashore at her\nfeet.\n\n\u201cWhere is Proserpina?\u201d cried Ceres. \u201cWhere is my child? Tell me, you\nnaughty sea-nymphs, have you enticed her under the sea?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, no, good Mother Ceres,\u201d said the innocent sea-nymphs, tossing back\ntheir green ringlets, and looking her in the face. \u201cWe never should dream\nof such a thing. Proserpina has been at play with us, it is true; but she\nleft us a long while ago, meaning only to run a little way upon the dry\nland, and gather some flowers for a wreath. This was early in the day,\nand we have seen nothing of her since.\u201d\n\nCeres scarcely waited to hear what the nymphs had to say, before she\nhurried off to make inquiries all through the neighborhood. But nobody\ntold her anything that could enable the poor mother to guess what had\nbecome of Proserpina. A fisherman, it is true, had noticed her little\nfootprints in the sand, as he went homeward along the beach with a basket\nof fish; a rustic had seen the child stooping to gather flowers; several\npersons had heard either the rattling of chariot-wheels, or the rumbling\nof distant thunder; and one old woman, while plucking vervain and catnip,\nhad heard a scream, but supposed it to be some childish nonsense, and\ntherefore did not take the trouble to look up. The stupid people! It took\nthem such a tedious while to tell the nothing that they knew, that it was\ndark night before Mother Ceres found out that she must seek her daughter\nelsewhere. So she lighted a torch, and set forth, resolving never to come\nback until Proserpina was discovered.\n\nIn her haste and trouble of mind, she quite forgot her car and the winged\ndragons; or, it may be, she thought that she could follow up the search\nmore thoroughly on foot. At all events, this was the way in which she\nbegan her sorrowful journey, holding her torch before her, and looking\ncarefully at every object along the path. And as it happened, she had not\ngone far before she found one of the magnificent flowers which grew on\nthe shrub that Proserpina had pulled up.\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d thought Mother Ceres, examining it by torchlight. \u201cHere is mischief\nin this flower! The earth did not produce it by any help of mine, nor\nof its own accord. It is the work of enchantment, and is therefore\npoisonous; and perhaps it has poisoned my poor child.\u201d\n\nBut she put the poisonous flower in her bosom, not knowing whether she\nmight ever find any other memorial of Proserpina.\n\nAll night long, at the door of every cottage and farmhouse, Ceres\nknocked, and called up the weary laborers to inquire if they had seen\nher child; and they stood, gaping and half asleep, at the threshold,\nand answered her pityingly, and besought her to come in and rest. At\nthe portal of every palace, too, she made so loud a summons that the\nmenials hurried to throw open the gate, thinking that it must be some\ngreat king or queen, who would demand a banquet for supper and a stately\nchamber to repose in. And when they saw only a sad and anxious woman,\nwith a torch in her hand and a wreath of withered poppies on her head,\nthey spoke rudely, and sometimes threatened to set the dogs upon her. But\nnobody had seen Proserpina, nor could give Mother Ceres the least hint\nwhich way to seek her. Thus passed the night; and still she continued\nher search without sitting down to rest, or stopping to take food, or\neven remembering to put out the torch; although first the rosy dawn, and\nthen the glad light of the morning sun, made its red flame look thin\nand pale. But I wonder what sort of stuff this torch was made of; for it\nburned dimly through the day, and, at night, was as bright as ever, and\nnever was extinguished by the rain or wind, in all the weary days and\nnights while Ceres was seeking for Proserpina.\n\nIt was not merely of human beings that she asked tidings of her daughter.\nIn the woods and by the streams, she met creatures of another nature,\nwho used, in those old times, to haunt the pleasant and solitary places,\nand were very sociable with persons who understood their language and\ncustoms, as Mother Ceres did. Sometimes, for instance, she tapped with\nher finger against the knotted trunk of a majestic oak; and immediately\nits rude bark would cleave asunder, and forth would step a beautiful\nmaiden, who was the hamadryad of the oak, dwelling inside of it, and\nsharing its long life, and rejoicing when its green leaves sported with\nthe breeze. But not one of these leafy damsels had seen Proserpina. Then,\ngoing a little farther, Ceres would, perhaps, come to a fountain, gushing\nout of a pebbly hollow in the earth, and would dabble with her hand in\nthe water. Behold, up through its sandy and pebbly bed, along with the\nfountain\u2019s gush, a young woman with dripping hair would arise, and stand\ngazing at Mother Ceres, half out of the water, and undulating up and down\nwith its ever-restless motion. But when the mother asked whether her poor\nlost child had stopped to drink out of the fountain, the naiad, with\nweeping eyes (for these water-nymphs had tears to spare for everybody\u2019s\ngrief), would answer, \u201cNo!\u201d in a murmuring voice, which was just like the\nmurmur of the stream.\n\nOften, likewise, she encountered fauns, who looked like sunburnt country\npeople, except that they had hairy ears, and little horns upon their\nforeheads, and the hinder legs of goats, on which they gambolled merrily\nabout the woods and fields. They were a frolicsome kind of creature,\nbut grew as sad as their cheerful dispositions would allow when Ceres\ninquired for her daughter, and they had no good news to tell. But\nsometimes she came suddenly upon a rude gang of satyrs, who had faces\nlike monkeys and horses\u2019 tails behind them, and who were generally\ndancing in a very boisterous manner, with shouts of noisy laughter. When\nshe stopped to question them, they would only laugh the louder, and make\nnew merriment out of the lone woman\u2019s distress. How unkind of those ugly\nsatyrs. And once, while crossing a solitary sheep-pasture, she saw a\npersonage named Pan, seated at the foot of a tall rock, and making music\non a shepherd\u2019s flute. He, too, had horns, and hairy ears, and goat\u2019s\nfeet; but, being acquainted with Mother Ceres, he answered her question\nas civilly as he knew how, and invited her to taste some milk and honey\nout of a wooden bowl. But neither could Pan tell her what had become of\nProserpina, any better than the rest of these wild peoples.\n\nAnd thus Mother Ceres went wandering about for nine long days and nights,\nfinding no trace of Proserpina, unless it were now and then a withered\nflower; and these she picked up and put in her bosom, because she\nfancied that they might have fallen from her poor child\u2019s hand. All day\nshe travelled onward through the hot sun; and at night, again, the flame\nof the torch would redden and gleam along the pathway, and she continued\nher search by its light, without ever sitting down to rest.\n\nOn the tenth day, she chanced to espy the mouth of a cavern, within which\n(though it was bright noon everywhere else) there would have been only\na dusky twilight; but it so happened that a torch was burning there. It\nflickered, and struggled with the duskiness, but could not half light up\nthe gloomy cavern with all its melancholy glimmer. Ceres was resolved to\nleave no spot without a search; so she peeped into the entrance of the\ncave, and lighted it up a little more, by holding her own torch before\nher. In so doing, she caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a woman,\nsitting on the brown leaves of the last autumn, a great heap of which had\nbeen swept into the cave by the wind. This woman (if woman it were) was\nby no means so beautiful as many of her sex; for her head, they tell me,\nwas shaped very much like a dog\u2019s, and, by way of ornament, she wore a\nwreath of snakes around it.\n\nBut Mother Ceres, the moment she saw her, knew that this was an odd kind\nof a person, who put all her enjoyment in being miserable, and never\nwould have a word to say to other people, unless they were as melancholy\nand wretched as she herself delighted to be.\n\n\u201cI am wretched enough now,\u201d thought poor Ceres, \u201cto talk with this\nmelancholy Hecate, were she ten times sadder than ever she was yet.\u201d\n\nSo she stepped into the cave, and sat down on the withered leaves by the\ndog-headed woman\u2019s side. In all the world, since her daughter\u2019s loss, she\nhad found no other companion.\n\n\u201cO Hecate,\u201d said she, \u201cif ever you lose a daughter, you will know\nwhat sorrow is. Tell me, for pity\u2019s sake, have you seen my poor child\nProserpina pass by the mouth of your cavern?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered Hecate, in a cracked voice, and sighing betwixt every\nword or two\u2014\u201cno, Mother Ceres, I have seen nothing of your daughter.\nBut my ears, you must know, are made in such a way that all cries of\ndistress and affright, all over the world, are pretty sure to find their\nway to them; and nine days ago, as I sat in my cave, making myself very\nmiserable, I heard the voice of a young girl, shrieking as if in great\ndistress. Something terrible has happened to the child, you may rest\nassured. As well as I could judge, a dragon, or some other cruel monster,\nwas carrying her away.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou kill me by saying so,\u201d cried Ceres, almost ready to faint. \u201cWhere\nwas the sound, and which way did it seem to go?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt passed very swiftly along,\u201d said Hecate, \u201cand, at the same time,\nthere was a heavy rumbling of wheels towards the eastward. I can tell\nyou nothing more, except that, in my honest opinion, you will never see\nyour daughter again. The best advice I can give you is, to take up your\nabode in this cavern, where we will be the two most wretched women in the\nworld.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot yet, dark Hecate,\u201d replied Ceres. \u201cBut do you first come with your\ntorch, and help me to seek for my lost child. And when there shall be no\nmore hope of finding her (if that black day is ordained to come), then,\nif you will give me room to fling myself down, either on these withered\nleaves or on the naked rock, I will show you what it is to be miserable.\nBut, until I know that she has perished from the face of the earth, I\nwill not allow myself space even to grieve.\u201d\n\nThe dismal Hecate did not much like the idea of going abroad into the\nsunny world. But then she reflected that the sorrow of the disconsolate\nCeres would be like a gloomy twilight round about them both, let the\nsun shine ever so brightly, and that therefore she might enjoy her bad\nspirits, quite as well as if she were to stay in the cave. So she finally\nconsented to go, and they set out together, both carrying torches,\nalthough it was broad daylight and clear sunshine. The torchlight seemed\nto make a gloom; so that the people whom they met along the road could\nnot very distinctly see their figures; and, indeed, if they once caught\na glimpse of Hecate, with the wreath of snakes round her forehead, they\ngenerally thought it prudent to run away, without waiting for a second\nglance.\n\nAs the pair travelled along in this woe-begone manner, a thought struck\nCeres.\n\n\u201cThere is one person,\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cwho must have seen my poor child,\nand can doubtless tell what has become of her. Why did not I think of him\nbefore? It is Ph\u0153bus.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat,\u201d said Hecate, \u201cthe young man that always sits in the sunshine?\nOh, pray do not think of going near him. He is a gay, light, frivolous\nyoung fellow, and will only smile in your face. And besides, there is\nsuch a glare of the sun about him, that he will quite blind my poor eyes,\nwhich I have almost wept away already.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have promised to be my companion,\u201d answered Ceres. \u201cCome, let us\nmake haste, or the sunshine will be gone, and Ph\u0153bus along with it.\u201d\n\nAccordingly, they went along in quest of Ph\u0153bus, both of them sighing\ngrievously, and Hecate, to say the truth, making a great deal worse\nlamentation than Ceres; for all the pleasure she had, you know, lay\nin being miserable, and therefore she made the most of it. By and by,\nafter a pretty long journey, they arrived at the sunniest spot in the\nwhole world. There they beheld a beautiful young man, with long, curling\nringlets, which seemed to be made of golden sunbeams; his garments\nwere like light summer clouds; and the expression of his face was so\nexceedingly vivid, that Hecate held her hands before her eyes, muttering\nthat he ought to wear a black veil. Ph\u0153bus (for this was the very\nperson whom they were seeking) had a lyre in his hands, and was making\nits chords tremble with sweet music; at the same time singing a most\nexquisite song, which he had recently composed. For, besides a great many\nother accomplishments, this young man was renowned for his admirable\npoetry.\n\nAs Ceres and her dismal companion approached him, Ph\u0153bus smiled on them\nso cheerfully that Hecate\u2019s wreath of snakes gave a spiteful hiss, and\nHecate heartily wished herself back in her cave. But as for Ceres, she\nwas too earnest in her grief either to know or care whether Ph\u0153bus smiled\nor frowned.\n\n\u201cPh\u0153bus,\u201d exclaimed she, \u201cI am in great trouble, and have come to you for\nassistance. Can you tell me what has become of my dear child Proserpina?\u201d\n\n\u201cProserpina! Proserpina, did you call her name?\u201d answered Ph\u0153bus,\nendeavoring to recollect; for there was such a continual flow of pleasant\nideas in his mind that he was apt to forget what had happened no longer\nago than yesterday. \u201cAh, yes, I remember her now. A very lovely child,\nindeed. I am happy to tell you, my dear madam, that I did see the little\nProserpina not many days ago. You may make yourself perfectly easy about\nher. She is safe, and in excellent hands.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, where is my dear child?\u201d cried Ceres, clasping her hands and\nflinging herself at his feet.\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d said Ph\u0153bus\u2014and as he spoke, he kept touching his lyre so as to\nmake a thread of music run in and out among his words\u2014\u201cas the little\ndamsel was gathering flowers (and she has really a very exquisite taste\nfor flowers) she was suddenly snatched up by King Pluto, and carried off\nto his dominions. I have never been in that part of the universe; but the\nroyal palace, I am told, is built in a very noble style of architecture,\nand of the most splendid and costly materials. Gold, diamonds, pearls,\nand all manner of precious stones will be your daughter\u2019s ordinary\nplaythings. I recommend to you, my dear lady, to give yourself no\nuneasiness. Proserpina\u2019s sense of beauty will be duly gratified, and,\neven in spite of the lack of sunshine, she will lead a very enviable\nlife.\u201d\n\n\u201cHush! Say not such a word!\u201d answered Ceres, indignantly. \u201cWhat is there\nto gratify her heart? What are all the splendors you speak of, without\naffection? I must have her back again. Will you go with me, Ph\u0153bus, to\ndemand my daughter of this wicked Pluto?\u201d\n\n\u201cPray excuse me,\u201d replied Ph\u0153bus, with an elegant obeisance. \u201cI certainly\nwish you success, and regret that my own affairs are so immediately\npressing that I cannot have the pleasure of attending you. Besides, I am\nnot upon the best of terms with King Pluto. To tell you the truth, his\nthree-headed mastiff would never let me pass the gateway; for I should be\ncompelled to take a sheaf of sunbeams along with me, and those, you know,\nare forbidden things in Pluto\u2019s kingdom.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, Ph\u0153bus,\u201d said Ceres, with bitter meaning in her words, \u201cyou have a\nharp instead of a heart. Farewell.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill not you stay a moment,\u201d asked Ph\u0153bus, \u201cand hear me turn the pretty\nand touching story of Proserpina into extemporary verses?\u201d\n\nBut Ceres shook her head, and hastened away, along with Hecate. Ph\u0153bus\n(who, as I have told you, was an exquisite poet) forthwith began to make\nan ode about the poor mother\u2019s grief; and, if we were to judge of his\nsensibility by this beautiful production, he must have been endowed with\na very tender heart. But when a poet gets into the habit of using his\nheart strings to make chords for his lyre, he may thrum upon them as\nmuch as he will, without any great pain to himself. Accordingly, though\nPh\u0153bus sang a very sad song, he was as merry all the while as were the\nsunbeams amid which he dwelt.\n\nPoor Mother Ceres had now found out what had become of her daughter, but\nwas not a whit happier than before. Her case, on the contrary, looked\nmore desperate than ever. As long as Proserpina was above ground there\nmight have been hopes of regaining her. But now that the poor child was\nshut up within the iron gates of the king of the mines, at the threshold\nof which lay the three-headed Cerberus, there seemed no possibility of\nher ever making her escape. The dismal Hecate, who loved to take the\ndarkest view of things, told Ceres that she had better come with her to\nthe cavern, and spend the rest of her life in being miserable. Ceres\nanswered that Hecate was welcome to go back thither herself, but that,\nfor her part, she would wander about the earth in quest of the entrance\nto King Pluto\u2019s dominions. And Hecate took her at her word, and hurried\nback to her beloved cave, frightening a great many little children with a\nglimpse of her dog\u2019s face, as she went.\n\nPoor Mother Ceres! It is melancholy to think of her pursuing her toilsome\nway all alone, and holding up that never-dying torch, the flame of which\nseemed an emblem of the grief and hope that burned together in her heart.\nSo much did she suffer, that, though her aspect had been quite youthful\nwhen her troubles began, she grew to look like an elderly person in a\nvery brief time. She cared not how she was dressed, nor had she ever\nthought of flinging away the wreath of withered poppies, which she put\non the very morning of Proserpina\u2019s disappearance. She roamed about in\nso wild a way, and with her hair so dishevelled, that people took her\nfor some distracted creature, and never dreamed that this was Mother\nCeres, who had the oversight of every seed which the husbandman planted.\nNowadays, she gave herself no trouble about seed-time nor harvest, but\nleft the farmers to take care of their own affairs, and the crops to\nfade or flourish, as the case might be. There was nothing, now, in which\nCeres seemed to feel an interest unless when she saw children at play, or\ngathering flowers along the wayside. Then, indeed, she would stand and\ngaze at them with tears in her eyes. The children, too, appeared to have\na sympathy with her grief, and would cluster themselves in a little group\nabout her knees, and look up wistfully in her face; and Ceres, after\ngiving them a kiss all round, would lead them to their homes, and advise\ntheir mothers never to let them stray out of sight.\n\n\u201cFor if they do,\u201d said she, \u201cit may happen to you, as it has to me, that\nthe iron-hearted King Pluto will take a liking to your darlings, and\nsnatch them up in his chariot, and carry them away.\u201d\n\nOne day, during her pilgrimage in quest of the entrance to Pluto\u2019s\nkingdom, she came to the palace of King Celeus, who reigned at Eleusis.\nAscending a lofty flight of steps, she entered the portal, and found\nthe royal household in very great alarm about the queen\u2019s baby. The\ninfant, it seems, was sickly (being troubled with its teeth, I suppose),\nand would take no food, and was all the time moaning with pain. The\nqueen\u2014her name was Metanira\u2014was desirous of finding a nurse; and when\nshe beheld a woman of matronly aspect coming up the palace steps, she\nthought, in her own mind, that here was the very person whom she needed.\nSo Queen Metanira ran to the door, with the poor wailing baby in her\narms, and besought Ceres to take charge of it, or, at least, to tell her\nwhat would do it good.\n\n\u201cWill you trust the child entirely to me?\u201d asked Ceres.\n\n\u201cYes, and gladly, too,\u201d answered the queen, \u201cif you will devote all your\ntime to him. For I can see that you have been a mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are right,\u201d said Ceres. \u201cI once had a child of my own. Well; I will\nbe the nurse of this poor, sickly boy. But beware, I warn you, that you\ndo not interfere with any kind of treatment which I may judge proper for\nhim. If you do so, the poor infant must suffer for his mother\u2019s folly.\u201d\n\nThen she kissed the child, and it seemed to do him good; for he smiled\nand nestled closely into her bosom.\n\nSo Mother Ceres set her torch in a corner (where it kept burning all the\nwhile), and took up her abode in the palace of King Celeus, as nurse to\nthe little Prince Demopho\u00f6n. She treated him as if he were her own child,\nand allowed neither the king nor the queen to say whether he should be\nbathed in warm or cold water, or what he should eat, or how often he\nshould take the air, or when he should be put to bed. You would hardly\nbelieve me, if I were to tell how quickly the baby prince got rid of his\nailments, and grew fat, and rosy, and strong, and how he had two rows of\nivory teeth in less time than any other little fellow, before or since.\nInstead of the palest, and wretchedest, and puniest imp in the world (as\nhis own mother confessed him to be when Ceres first took him in charge),\nhe was now a strapping baby, crowing, laughing, kicking up his heels,\nand rolling from one end of the room to the other. All the good women\nof the neighborhood crowded to the palace, and held up their hands, in\nunutterable amazement, at the beauty and wholesomeness of this darling\nlittle prince. Their wonder was the greater, because he was never seen to\ntaste any food; not even so much as a cup of milk.\n\n\u201cPray, nurse,\u201d the queen kept saying, \u201chow is it that you make the child\nthrive so?\u201d\n\n\u201cI was a mother once,\u201d Ceres always replied; \u201cand having nursed my own\nchild, I know what other children need.\u201d\n\nBut Queen Metanira, as was very natural, had a great curiosity to know\nprecisely what the nurse did to her child. One night, therefore, she hid\nherself in the chamber where Ceres and the little prince were accustomed\nto sleep. There was a fire in the chimney, and it had now crumbled into\ngreat coals and embers, which lay glowing on the hearth, with a blaze\nflickering up now and then, and flinging a warm and ruddy light upon\nthe walls. Ceres sat before the hearth with the child in her lap, and\nthe firelight making her shadow dance upon the ceiling overhead. She\nundressed the little prince, and bathed him all over with some fragrant\nliquid out of a vase. The next thing she did was to rake back the red\nembers, and make a hollow place among them, just where the backlog had\nbeen. At last, while the baby was crowing, and clapping its fat little\nhands, and laughing in the nurse\u2019s face (just as you may have seen your\nlittle brother or sister do before going into its warm bath), Ceres\nsuddenly laid him, all naked as he was, in the hollow among the red-hot\nembers. She then raked the ashes over him, and turned quietly away.\n\nYou may imagine, if you can, how Queen Metanira shrieked, thinking\nnothing less than that her dear child would be burned to a cinder. She\nburst forth from her hiding-place, and running to the hearth, raked open\nthe fire, and snatched up poor little Prince Demopho\u00f6n out of his bed\nof live coals, one of which he was gripping in each of his fists. He\nimmediately set up a grievous cry, as babies are apt to do when rudely\nstartled out of a sound sleep. To the queen\u2019s astonishment and joy, she\ncould perceive no token of the child\u2019s being injured by the hot fire\nin which he had lain. She now turned to Mother Ceres, and asked her to\nexplain the mystery.\n\n\u201cFoolish woman,\u201d answered Ceres, \u201cdid you not promise to intrust this\npoor infant entirely to me? You little know the mischief you have done\nhim. Had you left him to my care, he would have grown up like a child of\ncelestial birth, endowed with superhuman strength and intelligence, and\nwould have lived forever. Do you imagine that earthly children are to\nbecome immortal without being tempered to it in the fiercest heat of the\nfire? But you have ruined your own son. For though he will be a strong\nman and a hero in his day, yet, on account of your folly, he will grow\nold, and finally die, like the sons of other women. The weak tenderness\nof his mother has cost the poor boy an immortality. Farewell.\u201d\n\nSaying these words, she kissed the little prince, Demopho\u00f6n, and sighed\nto think what he had lost, and took her departure without heeding Queen\nMetanira, who entreated her to remain, and cover up the child among the\nhot embers as often as she pleased. Poor baby! He never slept so warmly\nagain.\n\nWhile she dwelt in the king\u2019s palace, Mother Ceres had been so\ncontinually occupied with taking care of the young prince, that her heart\nwas a little lightened of its grief for Proserpina. But now, having\nnothing else to busy herself about, she became just as wretched as\nbefore. At length, in her despair, she came to the dreadful resolution\nthat not a stalk of grain, nor a blade of grass, not a potato, nor a\nturnip, nor any other vegetable that was good for man or beast to eat,\nshould be suffered to grow until her daughter were restored. She even\nforbade the flowers to bloom, lest somebody\u2019s heart should be cheered by\ntheir beauty.\n\nNow, as not so much as a head of asparagus ever presumed to poke itself\nout of the ground, without the especial permission of Ceres, you may\nconceive what a terrible calamity had here fallen upon the earth. The\nhusbandmen ploughed and planted as usual; but there lay the rich black\nfurrows, all as barren as a desert of sand. The pastures looked as brown\nin the sweet month of June as ever they did in chill November. The rich\nman\u2019s broad acres and the cottager\u2019s small garden-patch were equally\nblighted. Every little girl\u2019s flower-bed showed nothing but dry stalks.\nThe old people shook their white heads, and said that the earth had grown\naged like themselves, and was no longer capable of wearing the warm smile\nof summer on its face. It was really piteous to see the poor, starving\ncattle and sheep, how they followed behind Ceres, lowing and bleating, as\nif their instinct taught them to expect help from her; and everybody that\nwas acquainted with her power besought her to have mercy on the human\nrace, and, at all events, to let the grass grow. But Mother Ceres, though\nnaturally of an affectionate disposition, was now inexorable.\n\n\u201cNever,\u201d said she. \u201cIf the earth is ever again to see any verdure, it\nmust first grow along the path which my daughter will tread in coming\nback to me.\u201d\n\nFinally, as there seemed to be no other remedy, our old friend\nQuicksilver was sent post haste to King Pluto, in hopes that he might be\npersuaded to undo the mischief he had done, and to set everything right\nagain, by giving up Proserpina. Quicksilver accordingly made the best of\nhis way to the great gate, took a flying leap right over the three-headed\nmastiff, and stood at the door of the palace in an inconceivably short\ntime. The servants knew him both by his face and garb; for his short\ncloak, and his winged cap and shoes, and his snaky staff had often been\nseen thereabouts in times gone by. He requested to be shown immediately\ninto the king\u2019s presence; and Pluto, who heard his voice from the top of\nthe stairs, and who loved to recreate himself with Quicksilver\u2019s merry\ntalk, called out to him to come up. And while they settle their business\ntogether, we must inquire what Proserpina has been doing ever since we\nsaw her last.\n\nThe child had declared, as you may remember, that she would not taste a\nmouthful of food as long as she should be compelled to remain in King\nPluto\u2019s palace. How she contrived to maintain her resolution, and at\nthe same time to keep herself tolerably plump and rosy, is more than I\ncan explain; but some young ladies, I am given to understand, possess\nthe faculty of living on air, and Proserpina seems to have possessed\nit, too. At any rate, it was now six months since she left the outside\nof the earth; and not a morsel, so far as the attendants were able to\ntestify, had yet passed between her teeth. This was the more creditable\nto Proserpina, inasmuch as King Pluto had caused her to be tempted, day\nafter day, with all manner of sweetmeats, and richly preserved fruits,\nand delicacies of every sort, such as young people are generally most\nfond of. But her good mother had often told her of the hurtfulness of\nthese things; and for that reason alone, if there had been no other, she\nwould have resolutely refused to taste them.\n\nAll this time, being of a cheerful and active disposition, the little\ndamsel was not quite so unhappy as you may have supposed. The immense\npalace had a thousand rooms, and was full of beautiful and wonderful\nobjects. There was a never-ceasing gloom, it is true, which half hid\nitself among the innumerable pillars, gliding before the child as she\nwandered among them, and treading stealthily behind her in the echo of\nher footsteps. Neither was all the dazzle of the precious stones, which\nflamed with their own light, worth one gleam of natural sunshine; nor\ncould the most brilliant of the many-colored gems, which Proserpina had\nfor playthings, vie with the simple beauty of the flowers she used to\ngather. But, still wherever the girl went, among those gilded halls and\nchambers, it seemed as if she carried nature and sunshine along with her,\nand as if she scattered dewy blossoms on her right hand and on her left.\nAfter Proserpina came, the palace was no longer the same abode of stately\nartifice and dismal magnificence that it had before been. The inhabitants\nall felt this, and King Pluto more than any of them.\n\n\u201cMy own little Proserpina,\u201d he used to say, \u201cI wish you could like me a\nlittle better. We gloomy and cloudy-natured persons have often as warm\nhearts at bottom, as those of a more cheerful character. If you would\nonly stay with me of your own accord, it would make me happier than the\npossession of a hundred such palaces as this.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d said Proserpina, \u201cyou should have tried to make me like you before\ncarrying me off. And the best thing you can do now is, to let me go\nagain. Then I might remember you sometimes, and think that you were as\nkind as you knew how to be. Perhaps, too, one day or other, I might come\nback, and pay you a visit.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: PARIS CARRIED HER TO TROY\u2014page 238\n\n_From the painting by R. von Deutsch_]\n\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d answered Pluto, with his gloomy smile, \u201cI will not trust you\nfor that. You are too fond of living in the broad daylight, and gathering\nflowers. What an idle and childish taste that is! Are not these gems,\nwhich I have ordered to be dug for you, and which are richer than any in\nmy crown\u2014are they not prettier than a violet?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot half so pretty,\u201d said Proserpina, snatching the gems from Pluto\u2019s\nhand, and flinging them to the other end of the hall. \u201cOh my sweet\nviolets, shall I never see you again?\u201d\n\nAnd then she burst into tears. But young people\u2019s tears have very little\nsaltness or acidity in them, and do not inflame the eyes so much as those\nof grown persons; so that it is not to be wondered at if, a few moments\nafterwards, Proserpina was sporting through the hall almost as merrily\nas she and the four sea-nymphs had sported along the edge of the surf\nwave. King Pluto gazed after her, and wished that he, too, was a child.\nAnd little Proserpina, when she turned about, and beheld this great king\nstanding in his splendid hall, and looking so grand, and so melancholy,\nand so lonesome, was smitten with a kind of pity. She ran back to him,\nand, for the first time in all her life, put her small soft hand in his.\n\n\u201cI love you a little,\u201d whispered she, looking up in his face.\n\n\u201cDo you, indeed, my dear child!\u201d cried Pluto, bending his dark face down\nto kiss her; but Proserpina shrank away from the kiss, for though his\nfeatures were noble, they were very dusky and grim. \u201cWell, I have not\ndeserved it of you, after keeping you a prisoner for so many months, and\nstarving you besides. Are you not terribly hungry? Is there nothing which\nI can get you to eat?\u201d\n\nIn asking this question, the king of the mines had a very cunning\npurpose; for, you will recollect, if Proserpina tasted a morsel of food\nin his dominions, she would never afterwards be at liberty to quit them.\n\n\u201cNo, indeed,\u201d said Proserpina. \u201cYour head cook is always baking, and\nstewing, and roasting, and rolling out paste, and contriving one dish\nor another, which he imagines may be to my liking. But he might just as\nwell save himself the trouble, poor, fat little man that he is. I have no\nappetite for anything in the world, unless it were a slice of bread of my\nmother\u2019s own baking, or a little fruit out of her garden.\u201d\n\nWhen Pluto heard this, he began to see that he had mistaken the best\nmethod of tempting Proserpina to eat. The cook\u2019s made dishes and\nartificial dainties were not half so delicious, in the good child\u2019s\nopinion, as the simple fare to which Mother Ceres had accustomed her.\nWondering that he had never thought of it before, the king now sent one\nof his trusty attendants, with a large basket, to get some of the finest\nand juiciest pears, peaches, and plums which could anywhere be found in\nthe upper world. Unfortunately, however, this was during the time when\nCeres had forbidden any fruits or vegetables to grow; and, after seeking\nall over the earth, King Pluto\u2019s servant found only a single pomegranate,\nand that so dried up as to be not worth eating. Nevertheless, since there\nwas no better to be had, he brought this dry, old withered pomegranate\nhome to the palace, put it on a magnificent golden salver, and carried it\nup to Proserpina. Now it happened, curiously enough, that, just as the\nservant was bringing the pomegranate into the back door of the palace,\nour friend Quicksilver had gone up the front steps, on his errand to get\nProserpina away from King Pluto.\n\nAs soon as Proserpina saw the pomegranate on the golden salver, she told\nthe servant he had better take it away again.\n\n\u201cI shall not touch it, I assure you,\u201d said she. \u201cIf I were ever so\nhungry, I should never think of eating such a miserable, dry pomegranate\nas that.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the only one in the world,\u201d said the servant.\n\nHe set down the golden salver, with the wizened pomegranate upon it, and\nleft the room. When he was gone, Proserpina could not help coming close\nto the table, and looking at this poor specimen of dried fruit with a\ngreat deal of eagerness; for, to say the truth, on seeing something that\nsuited her taste, she felt all the six months\u2019 appetite taking possession\nof her at once. To be sure, it was a very wretched-looking pomegranate,\nand seemed to have no more juice in it than an oyster-shell. But there\nwas no choice of such things in King Pluto\u2019s palace. This was the first\nfruit she had seen there, and the last she was ever likely to see; and\nunless she ate it up immediately, it would grow drier than it already\nwas, and be wholly unfit to eat.\n\n\u201cAt least, I may smell it,\u201d thought Proserpina. So she took up the\npomegranate, and applied it to her nose; and, somehow or other, being in\nsuch close neighborhood to her mouth, the fruit found its way into that\nlittle red cave. Dear me! what an everlasting pity! Before Proserpina\nknew what she was about, her teeth had actually bitten it, of their\nown accord. Just as this fatal deed was done, the door of the apartment\nopened, and in came King Pluto, followed by Quicksilver, who had been\nurging him to let his little prisoner go. At the first noise of their\nentrance, Proserpina withdrew the pomegranate from her mouth. But\nQuicksilver (whose eyes were very keen, and his wits the sharpest that\never anybody had) perceived that the child was a little confused; and\nseeing the empty salver, he suspected that she had been taking a sly\nnibble of something or other. As for honest Pluto, he never guessed at\nthe secret.\n\n\u201cMy little Proserpina,\u201d said the king, sitting down, and affectionately\ndrawing her between his knees, \u201chere is Quicksilver, who tells me that\na great many misfortunes have befallen innocent people on account of my\ndetaining you in my dominions. To confess the truth, I myself had already\nreflected that it was an unjustifiable act to take you away from your\ngood mother. But, then, you must consider, my dear child, that this vast\npalace is apt to be gloomy (although the precious stones certainly shine\nvery bright), and that I am not of the most cheerful disposition, and\nthat therefore it was a natural thing enough to seek for the society of\nsome merrier creature than myself. I hoped you would take my crown for a\nplaything, and me\u2014ah, you laugh, naughty Proserpina\u2014me, grim as I am, for\na playmate. It was a silly expectation.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so extremely silly,\u201d whispered Proserpina. \u201cYou have really amused\nme very much, sometimes.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you,\u201d said King Pluto, rather dryly. \u201cBut I can see, plainly\nenough, that you think my palace a dusky prison, and me the iron-hearted\nkeeper of it. And an iron heart I should surely have, if I could detain\nyou here any longer, my poor child, when it is now six months since you\ntasted food. I give you your liberty. Go with Quicksilver. Hasten home to\nyour dear mother.\u201d\n\nNow, although you may not have supposed it, Proserpina found it\nimpossible to take leave of poor King Pluto without some regrets, and\na good ideal of compunction for not telling him about the pomegranate.\nShe even shed a tear or two, thinking how lonely and cheerless the great\npalace would seem to him, with all its ugly glare of artificial light,\nafter she herself\u2014his one little ray of natural sunshine, whom he had\nstolen, to be sure, but only because he valued her so much\u2014after she\nshould have departed. I know not how many kind things she might have said\nto the disconsolate king of the mines, had not Quicksilver hurried her\naway.\n\n\u201cCome along quickly,\u201d whispered he in her ear, \u201cor his Majesty may change\nhis royal mind. And take care, above all things, that you say nothing of\nwhat was brought you on the golden salver.\u201d\n\nIn a very short time, they had passed the great gateway (leaving the\nthree-headed Cerberus barking, and yelping, and growling, with threefold\ndin, behind them), and emerged upon the surface of the earth. It was\ndelightful to behold, as Proserpina hastened along, how the path grew\nverdant behind and on either side of her. Wherever she set her blessed\nfoot, there was at once a dewy flower. The violets gushed up along the\nwayside. The grass and the grain began to sprout with tenfold vigor and\nluxuriance, to make up for the dreary months that had been wasted in\nbarrenness. The starved cattle immediately set to work grazing, after\ntheir long fast, and ate enormously all day, and got up at midnight\nto eat more. But I can assure you it was a busy time of year with the\nfarmers, when they found the summer coming upon them with such a rush.\nNor must I forget to say that all the birds in the whole world hopped\nabout upon the newly blossoming trees, and sang together in a prodigious\necstasy of joy.\n\nMother Ceres had returned to her deserted home, and was sitting\ndisconsolately on the doorstep, with her torch burning in her hand. She\nhad been idly watching the flame for some moments past, when, all at\nonce, it flickered and went out.\n\n\u201cWhat does this mean?\u201d thought she. \u201cIt was an enchanted torch, and\nshould have kept burning till my child came back.\u201d\n\nLifting her eyes, she was surprised to see a sudden verdure flashing over\nthe brown and barren fields, exactly as you may have observed a golden\nhue gleaming far and wide across the landscape, from the just risen sun.\n\n\u201cDoes the earth disobey me?\u201d exclaimed Mother Ceres, indignantly. \u201cDoes\nit presume to be green, when I have bidden it be barren, until my\ndaughter shall be restored to my arms?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen open your arms, dear mother,\u201d cried a well-known voice, \u201cand take\nyour little daughter into them.\u201d\n\nAnd Proserpina came running, and flung herself upon her mother\u2019s bosom.\nTheir mutual transport is not to be described. The grief of their\nseparation had caused both of them to shed a great many tears; and now\nthey shed a great many more, because their joy could not so well express\nitself in any other way.\n\nWhen their hearts had grown a little more quiet, Mother Ceres looked\nanxiously at Proserpina.\n\n\u201cMy child,\u201d said she, \u201cdid you taste any food while you were in King\nPluto\u2019s palace?\u201d\n\n\u201cDearest mother,\u201d answered Proserpina, \u201cI will tell you the whole truth.\nUntil this very morning, not a morsel of food had passed my lips. But\nto-day, they brought me a pomegranate (a very dry one it was, and all\nshrivelled up, till there was little left of it but seeds and skin), and\nhaving seen no fruit for so long a time, and being faint with hunger,\nI was tempted just to bite it. The instant I tasted it, King Pluto and\nQuicksilver came into the room. I had not swallowed a morsel; but\u2014dear\nmother, I hope it was no harm\u2014but six of the pomegranate seeds, I am\nafraid, remained in my mouth.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, unfortunate child, and miserable me!\u201d exclaimed Ceres. \u201cFor each of\nthose six pomegranate seeds you must spend one month of every year in\nKing Pluto\u2019s palace. You are but half restored to your mother. Only six\nmonths with me, and six with that good-for-nothing King of Darkness!\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not speak so harshly of poor King Pluto,\u201d said Proserpina, kissing\nher mother. \u201cHe has some very good qualities; and I really think I can\nbear to spend six months in his palace, if he will only let me spend the\nother six with you. He certainly did very wrong to carry me off; but\nthen, as he says, it was but a dismal sort of life for him, to live in\nthat great gloomy place, all alone; and it has made a wonderful change\nin his spirits to have a little girl to run up stairs and down. There\nis some comfort in making him so happy; and so, upon the whole, dearest\nmother, let us be thankful that he is not to keep me the whole year\nround.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTALES OF THE TROJAN WAR\n\nFROM HOMER\n\n\n\n\nTHE TROJAN WAR\n\nBy Thomas Bulfinch\n\n\nMinerva was the goddess of Wisdom, but on one occasion she did a very\nfoolish thing; she entered into competition with Juno and Venus for the\nprize of beauty.\n\nAt the marriage of Peleus and Thetis all the gods and goddesses were\ninvited with the exception of Eris, or Discord. Enraged at her exclusion,\nthe goddess threw a golden apple among the guests, with the inscription,\n\u201cFor the fairest,\u201d Thereupon Juno, Venus, and Minerva each claimed the\napple.\n\nJupiter, not willing to decide in so delicate a matter, sent the\ngoddesses to Mount Ida, where the beautiful shepherd Paris was tending\nhis flocks, and to him was committed the decision. The goddesses\naccordingly appeared before him. Juno promised him power and riches,\nMinerva glory and renown in war, and Venus the fairest of women for his\nwife, each attempting to bias his decision in her own favor.\n\nParis decided in favor of Venus and gave her the golden apple, thus\nmaking the two other goddesses his enemies. Under the protection of\nVenus, Paris sailed to Greece, and was hospitably received by Menelaus,\nKing of Sparta.\n\nNow Helen, the wife of Menelaus, was the very woman whom Venus had\ndestined for Paris, the most beautiful woman in the world. She had been\nsought as a bride by numerous suitors, and before her decision was made\nknown, they all, at the suggestion of Ulysses, one of their number, took\nan oath that they would defend her from all injury and avenge her cause\nif necessary. She chose Menelaus, and was living with him happily when\nParis became their guest. Paris, aided by Venus, persuaded her to elope\nwith him, and carried her to Troy, whence arose the famous Trojan war,\nthe subject of the greatest poems of antiquity, those of Homer and Virgil.\n\nMenelaus called upon his brother chieftains of Greece to fulfil their\npledge, and join him in his efforts to recover his wife. Most of them\ncame forward, but Ulysses, who had married Penelope, and was very happy\nwith his wife and child, had no wish to embark in such a troublesome\naffair. He therefore hung back and Palamedes was sent to urge him. When\nPalamedes arrived at Ithaca Ulysses pretended to be mad. He yoked an ass\nand an ox together to the plough and began to sow salt. Palamedes, to try\nhim, placed the infant Telemachus before the plough, whereupon the father\nturned the plough aside, showing plainly that he was no madman, and after\nthat could no longer refuse to fulfil his promise.\n\nBeing now gained for the undertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other\nchiefs, especially Achilles. This hero was the son of that Thetis at\nwhose marriage the apple of Discord had been thrown among the goddesses.\nThetis was herself one of the Immortals, a sea-nymph, and knowing that\nher son was fated to perish before Troy if he went on the expedition,\nshe endeavored to prevent his going. She sent him away to the court\nof King Lycomedes, and induced him to conceal himself in the disguise\nof a maiden among the daughters of the king. Ulysses, hearing he was\nthere, went disguised as a merchant to the palace and offered for sale\nfemale ornaments, among which he had placed some arms. While the king\u2019s\ndaughters were engrossed with the other contents of the merchant\u2019s pack,\nAchilles handled the weapons and thereby betrayed himself to the keen eye\nof Ulysses, who found no great difficulty in persuading him to disregard\nhis mother\u2019s prudent counsels and join his countrymen in the war.\n\nPriam was King of Troy, and Paris, the shepherd, was his son. Paris\nhad been brought up in obscurity, because there were certain ominous\nforebodings connected with him from his infancy that he would be the ruin\nof the state. These forebodings seemed at length likely to be realized,\nfor the Grecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had\never been fitted out.\n\nAgamemnon, King of Mycen\u00e6, and brother of the injured Menelaus, was\nchosen commander-in-chief. Achilles was their most illustrious warrior.\nAfter him ranked Ajax, gigantic in size and of great courage, but dull\nof intellect; Diomede, second only to Achilles in all the qualities of\na hero; Ulysses, famous for his sagacity; and Nestor, the oldest of the\nGrecian chiefs, and one to whom they all looked up for counsel.\n\nBut Troy was no feeble enemy. Priam, the king, was now old, but he had\nbeen a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good government\nat home and numerous alliances with his neighbors. But the principal\nstay and support of his throne was his son Hector, one of the noblest\ncharacters painted by heathen antiquity. He felt, from the first,\npresentiment of the fall of his country, but still persevered in his\nheroic resistance, yet by no means justified the wrong which brought\nthis danger upon her. He was united in marriage with Andromach\u00e9, and\nas a husband and father his character was not less admirable than as\na warrior. The principal leaders on the side of the Trojans, besides\nHector, were \u00c6neas and De\u00efphobus, Glaucus, and Sarpedon.\n\n\n\n\nTHE QUARREL OF THE CHIEFS\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nFor nine years and more the Greeks besieged the city of Troy. Being many\nin number, and having strong and valiant chiefs, they pressed the men of\nthe city very hard, so that these durst not go outside the walls. They\nmight have taken it without further loss but that there arose a deadly\nstrife between two of the chiefs, Agamemnon, King of Mycen\u00e6, who was\nsovereign lord of all the host; and Achilles, who was the bravest and\nmost valiant man therein.\n\nThe Greeks, having been away from home many years, were in great want of\nmany things, so it was their custom to leave a part of the army to watch\nthe city, and to send a part to plunder such towns in the country round\nabout as they knew to be friendly to the men of Troy, or as they thought\nto contain good store of provision or treasure. \u201cAre not all these,\u201d\nthey were wont to say, \u201ctowns of the barbarians, and therefore lawful\nprey to men that are Greeks?\u201d Now among the towns with which they dealt\nin this fashion was Chrysa, which was sacred to Apollo, who had a great\ntemple therein and a priest. Fearing the anger of the gods, the Greeks\nhad not harmed the temple or the priest; but they had carried off with\nother prisoners the priest\u2019s daughter, Chryse\u00efs by name. These and the\nrest of the spoil they divided among the kings, of whom there were many\nin the army, each ruling his own people. Now King Agamemnon, as being\nsovereign lord, went not with the army at such times, but stayed behind,\nhaving charge of the siege that it should not be neglected. Yet he always\nreceived, as was fitting, a share of the spoil. This time the Greeks\ngave him, with other things, the maiden Chryse\u00efs. Next day there came to\nthe camp the priest Chryses, wishing to ransom his daughter. Much gold\nhe brought, and he had on his head the priest\u2019s crown, that men might\nreverence him the more. He went to all the chiefs, making his prayer that\nthey would take the gold and give him back his daughter. They all spake\nhim fair, and would have done what he wished, except Agamemnon.\n\n\u201cGet thee out, greybeard!\u201d he cried in great wrath. \u201cLet me not find thee\nlingering now by the ships, neither coming hither again, or it shall be\nthe worse for thee, for all thy priesthood. And as for thy daughter, I\nshall carry her away to Argos, when I shall have taken this city of Troy.\u201d\n\nThen the old man went out hastily in great fear and trouble, and he\nwalked in his sorrow by the shore of the sounding sea, and prayed to\nhis god Apollo. \u201cHear me, god of the silver bow. If I have built thee a\ntemple, and offered thee the fat of many bullocks and rams, hear me, and\navenge me on these Greeks!\u201d\n\nAnd Apollo heard him. He was angry that men had so dishonored his priest,\nand came down from the top of Olympus, where he dwelt. Dreadful was the\nrattle of his arrows as he advanced, and his presence was as the night\ncoming over the sky.\n\nHe shot the arrows of death, first at the dogs and the mules, and then\nat the men; and soon all along the shore rolled the black smoke from the\npiles of wood on which they burnt the bodies of the dead.\n\nOn the tenth day Achilles, who was the bravest and strongest of all\nthe Greeks, called the people to an assembly. When they were gathered\ntogether he stood up among them and spake to Agamemnon. \u201cSurely it were\nbetter to return home than that we should all perish here by the plague.\nCome, let us ask some prophet, or priest, or dreamer of dreams, why it is\nthat Apollo is so wroth with us.\u201d\n\nThen stood up Calchas, best of seers, who knew what had been, and what\nwas, and what was to come, and spake. \u201cAchilles, thou biddest me tell\nthe people why Apollo is wroth with them. Lo! I tell thee, but thou must\nfirst swear to stand by me, for I know that what I shall say will anger\nKing Agamemnon, and it goes ill with common men when kings are angry.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak out, thou wise man!\u201d cried Achilles; \u201cfor I swear by Apollo that\nwhile I live no one shall lay hands on thee, no, not Agamemnon, though he\nbe sovereign lord of the Greeks.\u201d\n\nThen the prophet took heart and spake. \u201cIt is on behalf of his priest\nthat Apollo is wroth, for he came to ransom his daughter, but Agamemnon\nwould not let the maiden go. Now, then, ye must send her back to Chrysa\nwithout ransom, and with her a hundred beasts for sacrifice, so that the\nplague may be stayed.\u201d\n\nThen Agamemnon stood up in a fury, his eyes blazing like fire. \u201cNever,\u201d\nhe cried, \u201chast thou spoken good concerning me, ill prophet that thou\nart, and now thou tellest me to give up this maiden! I will do it, for I\nwould not that the people should perish. Only take care, ye Greeks, that\nthere be a share of the spoil for me, for it would ill beseem the lord of\nall the host that he alone should be without his share.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, my lord Agamemnon,\u201d cried Achilles, \u201cthou art too eager for gain.\nWe have no treasures out of which we may make up thy loss, for what we\ngot out of the towns we have either sold or divided; nor would it be\nfitting that the people should give back what has been given to them.\nGive up the maiden, then, without conditions, and when we shall have\ntaken this city of Troy, we will repay thee three and four fold.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, great Achilles,\u201d said Agamemnon, \u201cthou shalt not cheat me thus. If\nthe Greeks will give me such a share as I should have, well and good.\nBut if not, I will take one for myself, whether it be from thee, or from\nAjax, or from Ulysses; for my share I will have. But of this hereafter.\nNow let us see that this maiden be sent back. Let them get ready a ship,\nand put her therein, and with her a hundred victims, and let some chief\ngo with the ship, and see that all things be rightly done.\u201d\n\nThen cried Achilles, and his face was black as a thunder-storm, \u201cSurely\nthou art altogether shameless and greedy, and, in truth, an ill ruler\nof men. No quarrel have I with the Trojans. They never harried oxen or\nsheep of mine. But I have been fighting in thy cause, and that of thy\nbrother Menelaus. Naught carest thou for that. Thou leavest me to fight,\nand sittest in thy tent at ease. But when the spoil is divided, thine is\nalways the lion\u2019s share. Small indeed is my part\u2014\u2018a little thing, but\ndear.\u2019 And this, forsooth, thou wilt take away! Now am I resolved to go\nhome. Small booty wilt thou get then, methinks!\u201d\n\nAnd King Agamemnon answered, \u201cGo and thy Myrmidons with thee! I have\nother chieftains as good as thou art, and ready, as thou art not, to pay\nme due respect. I hate thee, with thy savage, bloodthirsty ways. And as\nfor the matter of the spoil, know that I will take thy share, the girl\nBrise\u00efs, and fetch her myself, if need be, that all may know that I am\nsovereign lord here in the hosts of the Greeks.\u201d\n\nThen Achilles was mad with anger, and he thought in his heart, \u201cShall\nI arise and slay this caitiff, or shall I keep down the wrath in my\nbreast?\u201d And as he thought he laid his hand on his sword-hilt, and had\nhalf drawn his sword from the scabbard, when lo! the goddess Minerva\nstood behind him (for Juno who loved both this chieftain and that, had\nsent her), and caught him by the long locks of his yellow hair. But\nAchilles marvelled much to feel the mighty grasp, and turned, and looked,\nand knew the goddess, but no one else in the assembly might see her.\nThen his eyes flashed with fire, and he cried, \u201cArt thou come, child of\nJupiter, to see the insolence of Agamemnon? Of a truth, I think that he\nwill perish for his folly.\u201d\n\nBut Minerva said, \u201cNay, but I am come to stay thy wrath. Use bitter\nwords, if thou wilt, but put up thy sword in its sheath, and strike him\nnot. Of a truth, I tell thee that for this insolence of to-day he will\nbring thee hereafter splendid gifts, threefold and fourfold for all that\nhe may take away.\u201d\n\nThen Achilles answered, \u201cI shall abide by thy command, for it is ever\nbetter for a man to obey the immortal gods.\u201d And as he spake he laid his\nheavy hand upon the hilt, and thrust back the sword into the scabbard,\nand Minerva went her way to Olympus.\n\nThen he turned him to King Agamemnon, and spake again. \u201cDrunkard, with\nthe eyes of a dog and the heart of a deer! never fighting in the front\nof the battle, nor daring to lie in the ambush! \u2019Tis a puny race thou\nrulest, or this had been thy last wrong. And as for me, here is this\nscepter: once it was the branch of a tree, but a cunning craftsman bound\nit with bronze to be the sign of the lordship which Jupiter gives to\nkings; as surely as it shall never again have bark or leaves or shoot, so\nsurely shall the Greeks one day miss Achilles, when they fall in heaps\nbefore the dreadful Hector, and thou shalt eat thy heart to think that\nthou hast wronged the bravest of thy host.\u201d\n\nAnd as he spake he dashed his scepter on the ground and sat down. And on\nthe other side Agamemnon sat in furious anger. Then Nestor rose, an old\nman of a hundred years and more, and counselled peace. Let them listen,\nhe said, to his counsel. Great chiefs in the old days, with whom no man\nnow alive would dare to fight, had listened. Let not Agamemnon take away\nfrom the bravest of the Greeks the prize of war; let not Achilles, though\nhe was mightier in battle than all other men, contend with Agamemnon, who\nwas sovereign lord of all the hosts of Greece. But he spake in vain. For\nAgamemnon answered\u2014\u201cNestor, thou speakest well, and peace is good. But\nthis fellow would lord it over all, and he must be taught that there is\none here, at least, who is better than he.\u201d\n\nAnd Achilles said, \u201cI were a slave and a coward if I owned thee as my\nlord. Not so: play the master over others, but think not to master me. As\nfor the prize which the Greeks gave me, let them do as they will. They\ngave it; let them take it away. But if thou darest to touch aught that\nis mine own, that hour thy life-blood shall redden on my spear.\u201d\n\nThen the assembly was dismissed. Chryse\u00efs was sent to her home with due\nofferings to the god, the wise Ulysses going with her. And all the people\npurified themselves, and the plague was stayed.\n\nBut King Agamemnon would not go back from his purpose. So he called to\nhim the heralds, Talthybius and Eurybates, and said, \u201cHeralds, go to the\ntents of Achilles and fetch the maiden Brise\u00efs. But if he will not let\nher go, say that I will come myself with many others to fetch her; so\nwill it be the worse for him.\u201d\n\nSorely against their will the heralds went. Along the seashore they\nwalked, till they came to the tents of Achilles. There they found him\nsitting, but stood silent in awe and fear.\n\nAchilles spied them, and cried aloud, \u201cCome near, ye heralds, messengers\nof gods and men. \u2019Tis no fault of yours that ye are come on such an\nerrand.\u201d\n\nThen he turned to Patroclus, his dearest friend, and said, \u201cBring the\nmaiden from her tent, and let the heralds lead her away. But let them\nbe witnesses, before gods and men, and before this evil-minded king,\nagainst the day when he shall have sore need of me to save his host from\ndestruction. Fool that he is, who thinks not of the past nor of the\nfuture, that his people may be safe!\u201d\n\nThen Patroclus brought forth the maiden from her tent and gave her to\nthe heralds. And they led her away, but it was sorely against her will\nthat she went. Achilles went apart from his comrades and sat upon the\nseashore, falling into a great passion of tears, and stretching out his\nhands with loud prayer to his mother, who indeed was a goddess of the\nsea, Thetis by name. She heard him where she sat in the depths by her\nfather, the old god of the sea, and rose\u2014you would have thought it a mist\nrising\u2014from the waves, and came to where he sat weeping, and stroked him\nwith her hand, and called him by his name.\n\n\u201cWhat ails thee, my son?\u201d she said.\n\nThen he told her the story of his wrong, and when he had ended he said\u2014\n\n\u201cGo, I pray thee, to the top of Olympus, to the palace of Jupiter. Often\nhave I heard thee boast how, long ago, thou didst help him when the other\ngods would have bound him, fetching Briareus of the hundred hands, who\nsat by him, so that the gods feared to touch him. Go now and call these\nthings to his mind, and pray him that he help the sons of Troy and give\nthem victory in the battle, so that the Greeks, as they flee before them,\nmay have joy of this king of theirs, who has done such wrong to the\nbravest of his host.\u201d\n\nAnd his mother answered him, \u201cSurely thine is an evil lot, my son! Thy\nlife is short, and it should of right be without tears and full of joy;\nbut now it seems to me to be both short and sad. I will go as thou sayest\nto Olympus, to the palace of Jupiter, but not now, for he has gone,\nand the other gods with him, to a twelve days\u2019 feast with the pious\nEthiopians. But when he comes back I will entreat and persuade him. And\ndo thou sit still, nor go forth to battle.\u201d\n\nWhen the twelve days were past, Thetis went to the top of Olympus, to the\npalace of Jupiter and made her prayer to him. He was loath to grant it,\nfor he knew that it would anger his wife, Juno, who loved the Greeks and\nhated the sons of Troy. Yet he could not refuse her, and promised that it\nshould be as she wished. And to make his word the surer, he nodded his\nawful head, and with the nod all Olympus was shaken.\n\nThat night Jupiter took counsel with himself how he might best work his\nwill. He called to him a dream, and said, \u201cDream, go to the tent of\nAgamemnon, and tell him to set his army in array against Troy, for the\ngods are now of one mind, and the day of doom is come for the city; so he\nshall take it, and gain eternal glory for himself.\u201d\n\nSo the dream went to the tent of Agamemnon, and it took the shape of\nNestor, the old chief whom the king honored more than all beside.\n\nThen the false Nestor spake: \u201cSleepest thou, Agamemnon? It is not for\nkings to sleep all through the night, for they must take thought for\nmany, and have many cares. Listen now to the words of Jupiter: \u2018Set the\nbattle in array against Troy, for the gods are now of one mind, and\nthe day of doom is come for the city, and thou shalt take it, and gain\neternal glory for thyself.\u201d\n\nAnd Agamemnon believed the dream, and knew not the purpose of Jupiter\nin bidding him go forth to battle. So he rose from his bed and donned\nhis tunic, and over it a great cloak, fastened the sandals on his\nfeet, hung from his shoulders his mighty silver-studded sword, and took\nin his right hand the great scepter of his house, which was the token\nof his sovereignty over all the Greeks. Then he went forth, and first\ntook counsel with the chiefs, and afterwards called the people to the\nassembly. After the assembly the shrill-voiced heralds called the host to\nthe battle. As is the flare of a great fire when a wood is burning on a\nhill-top, so was the flash of their arms and their armor as they thronged\nto the field. And as the countless flocks of wild geese or cranes or\nswans now wheel and now settle in the great Asian marsh by the stream\nof Cayster, or as the bees swarm in the spring, when the milk-pails are\nfull, so thick the Greeks thronged to the battle in the great plain by\nthe banks of the Scamander. Many nations were there, and many chiefs, and\nthe bravest and strongest of all was Ajax, son of Telamon, and the best\nhorses were the horses of Eumelus; but there was none that could compare\nwith Achilles and the horses of Achilles, bravest man and swiftest\nsteeds. Only Achilles sat apart, and would not go to the battle.\n\nAnd on the other side the sons of Troy and their allies came forth from\nthe gates of the city with the most famous of their chiefs.\n\nSo the battle was set in array, and the two hosts stood over against each\nother.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIGHT BETWEEN PARIS AND MENELAUS\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nThey were now about to fight, when from the ranks of the Trojans Paris\nrushed forth. He had a panther\u2019s skin over his shoulders, and a bow and a\nsword, and in either hand a spear, and he called aloud to the Greeks that\nthey should send forth their bravest to fight with them.\n\nWhen Menelaus saw him he was glad, for he said that now he should avenge\nhimself on the man who had done him such wrong. So a lion is glad when,\nbeing sorely hungered, he finds a stag or a wild goat; he devours it, and\nwill not be driven from it by dogs or hunters.\n\nHe leapt from his chariot and rushed to meet his enemy; but Paris, having\ndone evil, and being therefore a coward in his heart, was afraid when he\nsaw Menelaus, and fled back into the ranks of his comrades, just as a man\nsteps back in haste when, unawares, he comes upon a snake. Hector saw him\nand rebuked him. \u201cFair art thou to look upon, Paris, but nothing worth.\nSurely the Greeks will scorn us if they think that thou art our bravest\nwarrior, because thou art of stately presence. Thou art a coward; and yet\nthou daredst to go across the sea and carry off the fair Helen. Why dost\nthou not stand and abide the onset of her husband, and see what manner\nof man he is? Little would thy harp and thy long locks and thy fair face\navail when thou wert lying in the dust! A craven race are the sons of\nTroy, or they would have stoned thee ere this.\u201d\n\nThen Paris answered, \u201cThou speakest well, Hector, and thy rebuke is just.\nAs for thee, thy heart is like iron, ever set on battle; yet are beauty\nand love also the gifts of the gods, and not to be despised. But now set\nMenelaus and me in the midst, and let us fight, man to man, for the fair\nHelen and for all her possessions. And if he prevail over me, let him\ntake her and them and depart, and the Greeks with him, but ye shall dwell\nin peace; but if I prevail they shall depart without her.\u201d\n\nThen Hector was glad, and going before the Trojan ranks, holding his\nspear by the middle, he kept them back. The Greeks would have thrown\nspears and stones at him, only Agamemnon cried aloud and said, \u201cHold:\nHector has somewhat to say to us.\u201d\n\nThen Hector said, \u201cHear, Trojans and Greeks, what Paris saith: Let all\nbesides lay their arms upon the ground, and let Menelaus and me fight for\nthe fair Helen and all her wealth. And let him that is the better keep\nher and them, but the rest shall dwell in peace.\u201d\n\nThen Menelaus said, \u201cThe word pleaseth me well; let us fight together,\nand let us make agreement with oath and sacrifice. And because the sons\nof Priam are men of fraud and violence, let Priam himself come.\u201d\n\nSo they sent a herald to King Priam, but he sat on the wall with the old\nmen. And as they talked the fair Helen came near, and they said, \u201cWhat\nwonder that men should suffer much for such a woman, for indeed she is\ndivinely fair. Yet let her depart in the ships, nor bring a curse on us\nand our children.\u201d\n\nBut Priam called to her, \u201cCome near, my daughter; tell me about these old\nfriends of thine. For \u2019tis not thou, \u2019tis the gods who have brought about\nall this trouble. But tell me, who is this warrior that I see, so fair\nand strong? There are others even a head taller than he, but none of such\nmajesty.\u201d\n\nAnd Helen answered, \u201cAh, my father! would that I had died before I left\nhusband and child to follow thy son. But as for this warrior, he is\nAgamemnon, a good king and brave soldier and my brother-in-law in the old\ndays.\u201d\n\n\u201cHappy Agamemnon,\u201d said Priam, \u201cto rule over so many! Never saw I such an\narmy gathered together, not even when I went to help the Phrygians when\nthey were assembled on the banks of the Sangarus against the Amazons.\nBut who is this that I see, not so tall as Agamemnon, but of broader\nshoulders? His arms lie upon the ground, and he is walking through the\nranks of his men just as some great ram walks through a flock of sheep.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis,\u201d said Helen, \u201cis Ulysses of Ithaca, who is better in craft and\ncounsel than all other men.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis well spoken, lady,\u201d said Antenor. \u201cWell I remember Ulysses when he\ncame hither on an embassy about thee with the brave Menelaus. My guests\nthey were, and I knew them well. And I remember how, in the assembly of\nthe Trojans, when both were standing, Menelaus was the taller, but when\nthey sat, Ulysses was the more majestic to behold. And when they rose\nto speak, Menelaus said few words, but said them wisely and well; and\nUlysses\u2014you had thought him a fool, so stiffly he held his scepter and so\ndowncast were his eyes; but as soon as he began, oh! the mighty voice,\nand the words thick as the falling snow!\u201d\n\nThen Priam said, \u201cWho is that stalwart hero, so tall and strong,\novertopping all by head and shoulders?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d said Helen, \u201cis mighty Ajax, the bulwark of the Greeks. And next\nto him is Idomeneus. Often has Menelaus had him as his guest in the old\ndays, when he came from Crete. As for the other chiefs, I see and could\nname them all. But I miss my own dear brothers, Castor, tamer of horses,\nand Pollux, the mighty boxer. Either they came not from Sparta, or having\ncome, shun the meeting of men for shame of me\u201d (she knew not that they\nwere sleeping their last sleep far away in their dear fatherland).\n\nAnd when they had ended talking, the heralds came and told King Priam\nthat the armies called for him. So he went, and Antenor with him. And he\non the one side, for the Trojans, and King Agamemnon for the Greeks, made\na covenant with sacrifice that Paris and Menelaus should fight together,\nand that the fair Helen, with all her treasures, should go with him who\nshould win. Hector and Ulysses marked out a space for the fight, and\nHector shook two pebbles in a helmet, looking away as he shook them, that\nhe whose pebble leapt forth the first should be the first to throw his\nspear. And it so befell that the lot of Paris leapt forth first. The\ntwo warriors armed themselves and came forth into the space, and stood\nover against each other, brandishing their spears, with hate in their\neyes. Then Paris threw his spear. It struck the shield of Menelaus, but\npierced it not, for the spear point was bent back. Then Menelaus prayed\nto Jupiter, \u201cGrant, Father Jupiter, that I may avenge myself on Paris,\nwho has done me this wrong; so shall men in after time fear to do wrong\nto their host.\u201d So speaking, he cast his long-shafted spear. It struck\nthe shield of Paris and pierced it through, and passed through the\ncorslet, and through the tunic close to the loin; but Paris shrank aside\nand the spear wounded him not. Then Menelaus drew his silver-studded\nsword and struck a mighty blow on the top of the helmet of Paris, but the\nsword broke in four pieces in his hand. Then he cried in his wrath, \u201cO\nJupiter, most mischief-loving of the gods, my spear I cast in vain, and\nnow my sword is broken.\u201d Then he rushed forward and seized Paris by the\nhelmet, and dragged him towards the host of the Greeks. And truly he had\ntaken him, but Venus loosed the strap that was beneath his chin, and the\nhelmet came off in his hand. And Menelaus whirled it among the Greeks and\ncharged with another spear in his hand. But Venus snatched Paris away,\ncovering him with a mist, and put him down in his chamber in Troy. Then\nMenelaus looked for him everywhere, but no one could tell him where he\nmight be. No son of Troy would have hidden him out of kindness, for all\nhated him as death.\n\nThen King Agamemnon said, \u201cNow, ye sons of Troy, it is for you to give\nback the fair Helen and her wealth, and to pay me besides so much as may\nbe fitting for all my cost and trouble.\u201d\n\nBut it was not the will of the gods that the sons of Troy should do\nthis thing. So Minerva took upon herself the shape of Laodocus, son of\nAntenor, and went to Pandarus, son of Lycaon, where he stood among his\nmen. Then the false Laodocus said, \u201cPandarus, darest thou aim an arrow at\nMenelaus? Truly the Trojans would love thee well, and Paris best of all,\nif they could see Menelaus slain by an arrow from thy bow. Aim then, but\nfirst pray to Apollo, and vow that thou wilt offer a hundred beasts when\nthou returnest to thy city, Zeleia.\u201d Now Pandarus had a bow made of the\nhorns of a wild goat which he had slain; sixteen palms long they were,\nand a cunning workman had made them smooth, and put a tip of gold whereon\nto fasten the bow-string. And Pandarus strung his bow, his comrades\nhiding him with their shields. Then he took an arrow from his quiver, and\nlaid it on the bow-string, and drew the string to his breast, till the\narrow-head touched the bow, and let fly. Right well aimed was the dart,\nbut it was not the will of heaven that it should slay Menelaus. It struck\nhim, indeed, and passed through the belt and through the corslet and\nthrough the girdle, and pierced the skin.\n\nSore dismayed was King Agamemnon to see the blood; sore dismayed also was\nthe brave Menelaus, till he spied the barb of the arrow, and knew that\nthe wound was not deep. But Agamemnon cried\u2014\n\n\u201cIt was in an evil hour for thee, my brother, that I made a covenant\nwith these false sons of Troy. Right well, indeed, I know that oath and\nsacrifice are not in vain, but will have vengeance at the last. Troy\nshall fall; but woe is me if thou shouldst die, Menelaus. For the Greeks\nwill straight go back to their fatherland, and the fair Helen will be\nleft a boast to the sons of Troy, and I shall have great shame when one\nof them shall say, as he leaps on the tomb of the brave Menelaus, \u2018Surely\nthe great Agamemnon has avenged himself well; for he brought an army\nhither, but now is gone back to his home, but left Menelaus here.\u2019 May\nthe earth swallow me up before that day!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d said Menelaus, \u201cfear not, for the arrow has but grazed the skin.\u201d\n\nThen King Agamemnon bade fetch the physician. So the herald fetched\nMachaon, the physician. And Machaon came, and drew forth the arrow, and\nwhen he had wiped away the blood he put healing drugs upon the wound,\nwhich Chiron, the wise healer, had given to his father.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DUEL BETWEEN HECTOR AND AJAX\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nThe Greeks went forward to the battle, as the waves that curl themselves\nand then dash upon the shore, throwing high the foam. In order they went\nafter their chiefs; you had thought them dumb, so silent were they. But\nthe Trojans were like a flock of ewes which wait to be milked, and bleat\nhearing the voice of their lambs, so confused a cry went out from their\narmy, for there were men of many tongues gathered together. And on either\nside the gods urged them on, but chiefly Minerva the Greeks and Mars the\nsons of Troy. Then, as two streams in flood meet in some chasm, so the\narmies dashed together, shield on shield and spear on spear.\n\nNow when Minerva saw that the Greeks were perishing by the hand of Hector\nand his companions, it grieved her sore. So she came down from the\nheights of Olympus, if happily she might help them. And Apollo met her\nand said, \u201cArt thou come, Minerva, to help the Greeks whom thou lovest?\nWell, let us stay the battle for this day; hereafter they shall fight\ntill the doom of Troy be accomplished.\u201d\n\nBut Minerva answered, \u201cHow shall we stay it?\u201d\n\nAnd Apollo said, \u201cWe will set on Hector to challenge the bravest of the\nGreeks to fight with him, man to man.\u201d\n\nSo they two put the matter into the mind of Helenus the seer. Then\nHelenus went near to Hector, \u201cListen to me, for I am thy brother. Cause\nthe rest of the sons of Troy and of the Greeks to sit down, and do thou\nchallenge the bravest of the Greeks to fight with thee, man to man. And\nbe sure thou shalt not fall in the battle, for the will of the immortal\ngods is so.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: _Copyright, 1907 by Braun, Clement & Co._\n\nTHEN AUTOMEDON YOKED THE HORSES TO THE CHARIOT\u2014page 267\n\n_From the painting by H. Regnault_]\n\nThen Hector greatly rejoiced, and passed to the front of the army,\nholding his spear by the middle, and kept back the sons of Troy; and\nKing Agamemnon did likewise with his own people. Then Hector spake\u2014\n\n\u201cHear me, sons of Troy, and ye men of Greece. The covenant that we\nmade one with another hath been broken, for Jupiter would have it so,\npurposing evil to both, till either you shall take our high-walled city\nor we shall conquer you by your ships. But let one of you who call\nyourselves champions of the Greeks come forth and fight with me, man to\nman. And let it be so that if he vanquish me he shall spoil me of my arms\nbut give my body to my people, that they may burn it with fire; and if\nI vanquish him, I will spoil him of his arms but give his body to the\nGreeks, that they may bury him and raise a great mound above him by the\nbroad salt river of Hellespont. And so men of after days shall see it,\nsailing by, and say, \u2018This is the tomb of the bravest of the Greeks, whom\nHector slew.\u2019 So shall my name live forever.\u201d\n\nBut all the Greeks kept silence, fearing to meet him in battle, but\nshamed to hold back. Then at last Menelaus leapt forward and spake,\n\u201cSurely now ye are women and not men. Foul shame it were should there be\nno man to stand up against this Hector. Lo! I will fight with him my own\nself, for the issues of battle are with the immortal gods.\u201d\n\nSo he spake in his rage rashly, courting death, for Hector was much\nstronger than he. Then King Agamemnon answered, \u201cNay, but this is folly,\nmy brother. Seek not in thy anger to fight with one that is stronger than\nthou; for as for this Hector, even Achilles was loth to meet him. Sit\nthou down among thy comrades, and the Greeks will find some champion who\nshall fight with him.\u201d\n\nAnd Menelaus hearkened to his brother\u2019s words, and sat down. Then Nestor\nrose in the midst and spake\u2014\n\n\u201cWoe is me to-day for Greece! How would the old Peleus grieve to hear\nsuch a tale! Well I remember how he rejoiced when I told him of the house\nand lineage of all chieftains of the Greeks, and now he would hear that\nthey cower before Hector, and are sore afraid when he calls them to the\nbattle. Surely he would pray this day that he might die! O that I were\nsuch as I was in the old days, when the men of Pylos fought with the\nArcadians! I, who was the youngest of all, stood forth, and Minerva gave\nme glory that day, for I slew their leader, though he was the strongest\nand tallest among the sons of men. Would that I were such to-day! Right\nsoon would I meet this mighty Hector.\u201d\n\nThen rose up nine chiefs of fame. First of all, King Agamemnon, lord of\nmany nations, and next to him Diomed, and Ajax the Greater and Ajax the\nLess, and then Idomeneus and Meriones, and Eurypylus, and Thoas, son of\nAndr\u00e6mon, and the wise Ulysses.\n\nThen Nestor said, \u201cLet us cast lots who shall do battle with the mighty\nHector.\u201d\n\nSo they threw the lots into the helmet of King Agamemnon, a lot for each.\nAnd the people prayed, \u201cGrant, ye gods, that the lot of Ajax the Greater\nmay leap forth, or the lot of Diomed, or the lot of King Agamemnon.\u201d Then\nNestor shook the lots in the helmet, and the one which they most wished\nleapt forth. For the herald took it through the ranks and showed it to\nthe chiefs, but none knew it for his own till he came to where Ajax the\nGreater stood among his comrades. But Ajax had marked it with his mark,\nand put forth his hand for it, and claimed it, right glad at heart. On\nthe ground by his feet he threw it, and said\u2014\n\n\u201cMine is the lot, my friends, and right glad I am, for I think that I\nshall prevail over the mighty Hector, but come, let me don my arms; and\npray ye to Jupiter, but silently, lest the Trojans hear, or aloud, if ye\nwill, for no fear have we. Not by force or craft shall any one vanquish\nme, for not such are the men whom Salamis breeds.\u201d\n\nSo he armed himself and moved forwards, smiling with grim face. With\nmighty strides he came, brandishing his long-shafted spear. The Greeks\nwere glad to behold him, but the knees of the Trojans were loosened with\nfear and great Hector\u2019s heart beat fast; but he trembled not, nor gave\nplace, seeing that he had himself called him to battle. So Ajax came\nnear, holding before the great shield, like a wall, which Tychius, best\nof craftsmen, had made for him. Seven folds of bull\u2019s hide it had, and an\neighth of bronze. Threateningly he spake\u2014\n\n\u201cNow shalt thou know, Hector, what manner of men there are yet among our\nchiefs, though Achilles the lion-hearted is far away, sitting idly in\nhis tent, in great wrath with King Agamemnon. Do thou, then, begin the\nbattle.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak not to me, Jupiter-descended Ajax,\u201d said Hector, \u201cas though I\nwere a woman or a child knowing nothing of war. Well I know all the arts\nof battle, to ply my shield this way and that, to guide my car through\nthe tumult of steeds, and to stand fighting hand to hand. But I would not\nsmite so stout a foe by stealth, but openly.\u201d\n\nAs he spake he hurled his long-shafted spear, and smote the great shield\non the rim of the eighth fold, that was of bronze. Through six folds it\npassed, but in the seventh it was stayed. Then Ajax hurled his spear,\nstriking Hector\u2019s shield. Through shield it passed and corslet, and cut\nthe tunic close against the loin; but Hector shrank away and escaped the\ndoom of death. Then, each with a fresh spear, they rushed together like\nlions or wild boars of the wood. First Hector smote the middle of the\nshield of Ajax, but pierced it not, for the spear-point was bent back;\nthen Ajax, with a great bound, drove his spear at Hector\u2019s shield and\npierced it, forcing him back, and grazing his neck so that the blood\nwelled out. Yet did not Hector cease from the combat. He caught up a\ngreat stone from the ground, and hurled it at the boss of the sevenfold\nshield. Loud rang the bronze, but the shield broke not. Then Ajax took\na stone heavier by far, and threw it with all his might. It broke the\nshield of Hector, and bore him backwards, so that he fell at length with\nhis shield above him. But Apollo raised him up. Then did both draw their\nswords; but ere they could join in close battle the heralds came and held\ntheir scepters between them, and Id\u00e6us, the herald of Troy, spake\u2014\n\n\u201cFight no more, my sons; Jupiter loves you both; and ye are both mighty\nwarriors. That we all know right well. But now the night bids you cease,\nand it is well to heed its bidding.\u201d\n\nThen said Ajax, \u201cNay, Id\u00e6us, but it is for Hector to speak, for he called\nthe bravest of the Greeks to battle. And as he wills it, so will I.\u201d\n\nAnd Hector said, \u201cO Ajax, the gods have given thee stature and strength\nand skill, nor is there any better warrior among the Greeks. Let us cease\nthen from the battle; we may yet meet again, till the gods give the\nvictory to me or thee. And now let us give gifts the one to the other, so\nthat Trojans and Greeks may say\u2014Hector and Ajax met in fierce fight and\nparted in friendship.\u201d\n\nSo Hector gave to Ajax a silver-studded sword with the scabbard and the\nsword-belt, and Ajax gave to Hector a buckler splendid with purple.\nSo they parted. Right glad were the sons of Troy when they saw Hector\nreturning safe. Glad also were the Greeks, as they led Ajax rejoicing\nin his victory to King Agamemnon. Whereupon the king called the chiefs\nto banquet together, and bade slay an ox of five years old, and Ajax he\nhonored most of all. When the feast was ended Nestor said\u2014\n\n\u201cIt were well that we should cease awhile from war and burn the dead,\nfor many, in truth, are fallen. And we will build a great wall and dig\na trench about it, and we will make wide gates that a chariot may pass\nthrough, so that our ships may be safe, if the sons of Troy should press\nus hard.\u201d\n\nBut the next morning came a herald from Troy to the chiefs as they sat\nin council by the ship of King Agamemnon, and said\u2014\n\n\u201cThis is the word of Priam and the men of Troy; Paris will give back all\nthe treasures of the fair Helen, and many more besides; but the fair\nHelen herself he will not give. But if this please you not, grant us a\ntruce, that we may bury our dead.\u201d\n\nThen Diomed spake, \u201cNay, we will not take the fair Helen\u2019s self, for a\nman may know even though he be a fool, that the doom of Troy is come.\u201d\n\nAnd King Agamemnon said, \u201cHerald, thou hast heard the word of the Greeks,\nbut as for the truce, be it as you will.\u201d\n\nSo the next day they burnt their dead, and the Greeks made a wall with\ngates and dug a trench about it. And when it was finished, even at\nsunset, they made ready a meal, and lo! there came ships from Lemnos\nbringing wine, and Greeks bought thereof, some with bronze, and some with\niron, and some with shields of ox hide. All night they feasted right\njoyously. The sons of Troy also feasted in their city. But the dreadful\nthunder rolled through the night, for Jupiter was counselling evil\nagainst them.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEEDS AND DEATH OF PATROCLUS\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nPatroclus stood by Achilles, weeping bitterly. Then said Achilles, \u201cWhat\nails thee, Patroclus, that thou weepest like a girl-child that runs along\nby her mother\u2019s side and would be taken up, holding her gown, and looking\nat her with tearful eyes till she lift her in her arms? Hast thou heard\nevil news from Phthia? Men\u0153tius yet lives, they say, and Peleus. Or art\nthou weeping for the Greeks, because they perish for their folly?\u201d\n\nThen said Patroclus, \u201cBe not wroth with me, great Achilles, for indeed\nthe Greeks are in grievous straits, and all their bravest are wounded,\nand still thou cherishest thy wrath. If thou goest not to the battle,\nfearing some warning from the gods, let me go, and thy Myrmidons with me.\nAnd let me put thy armor on me; so shall the Greeks have breathing space\nfrom the war.\u201d\n\nSo he spake, entreating, nor knew that for his own doom he entreated. And\nAchilles made reply\u2014\n\n\u201cIt is no warning that I heed, that I keep back from the war. But these\nmen took from me my prize, which I won with my own hands. But let the\npast be past. I said that I would not rise up till the battle should come\nnigh to my own ships. But thou mayest put my armor upon thee, and lead my\nMyrmidons to the fight. For in truth the men of Troy are gathered as a\ndark cloud about the ships, and the Greeks have scarce standing-ground\nbetween them and the sea. For they see not the gleam of my helmet. And\nDiomed is not there with his spear; nor do I hear the voice of Agamemnon,\nbut only the voice of Hector, as he calls the men of Troy to the battle.\nGo, therefore, Patroclus, and drive the fire from the ships. And then\ncome thou back, nor fight any more with the Trojans, lest thou take my\nglory from me. And go not near, in the delight of battle, to the walls of\nTroy, lest one of the gods meet thee to thy hurt; and, of a truth, the\nkeen archer Apollo loves them well.\u201d\n\nBut as they talked the one to the other, Ajax could hold out no longer.\nFor swords and javelins came thick upon him, and clattered on his helmet,\nand his shoulder was weary with the great shield which he held; and he\nbreathed heavily and hard, and the great drops of sweat fell upon the\nground. Then at the last Hector came near and smote his spear with a\ngreat sword, so that the head fell off. Then was Ajax sore afraid, and\ngave way, and the men of Troy set torches to the ship\u2019s stem, and a great\nflame shot up to the sky. And Achilles saw it, and smote his thigh and\nspake\u2014\n\n\u201cHaste thee, Patroclus, for I see the fire rising up from the ships. Put\nthou on the armor, and I will call my people to the war.\u201d\n\nSo Patroclus put on the armor\u2014corslet and shield and helmet\u2014and bound\nupon his shoulder the silver-studded sword, and took a mighty spear in\nhis hand. But the great Pelian spear he took not, for that no man but\nAchilles might wield. Then Automedon yoked the horses to the chariot,\nBayard and Piebald, and with them in the side harness, Pedasus; and they\ntwo were deathless steeds, but he was mortal.\n\nMeanwhile Achilles had called the Myrmidons to battle. Fifty ships had he\nbrought to Troy, and in each there were fifty men.\n\nFive leaders they had, and the bravest of the five was Pisander.\n\nThen Achilles said, \u201cForget not, ye Myrmidons, the bold words that\nye spake against the men of Troy during the days of my wrath, making\ncomplaint that I kept you from the battle against your will. Now,\ntherefore, ye have that which you desired.\u201d\n\nSo the Myrmidons went to the battle in close array, helmet to helmet\nand shield to shield, close as the stones with which a builder builds a\nwall. And in front went Patroclus, and Automedon in the chariot beside\nhim. Then Achilles went to his tent and took a great cup from the chest\nwhich Thetis his mother had given him. Now no man drank of that cup but\nhe only, nor did he pour out of it libations to any of the gods but only\nto Jupiter. This first he cleansed with sulphur, and then with water from\nthe spring. And after this he washed his hands, and stood in the midst of\nthe space before his tent, and poured out of it to Jupiter, saying\u2014\n\n\u201cO Jupiter, I send my comrade to this battle; make him strong and bold,\nand give him glory, and bring him home safe to the ships and my people\nwith him.\u201d\n\nSo he prayed, and Father Jupiter heard him, and part he granted and part\ndenied.\n\nBut now Patroclus with the Myrmidons had come to where the battle was\nraging about the ship of Protesilaus, and when the men of Troy beheld\nhim, they thought that Achilles had forgotten his wrath, and was come\nforth to the war. And first Patroclus slew Pyr\u00e6chmes, who was the chief\nof the P\u00e6onians who live on the banks of the broad Axius. Then the men\nof Troy turned to flee, and many chiefs of fame fell by the spears of\nthe Greeks. So the battle rolled back to the trench, and in the trench\nmany chariots of the Trojans were broken, but the horses of Achilles went\nacross it at a stride, so nimble were they and strong. And the heart of\nPatroclus was set to slay Hector; but he could not overtake him, so swift\nwere his horses. Then did Patroclus turn his chariot and keep back those\nthat fled, that they should not go to the city, and rushed hither and\nthither, still slaying as he went.\n\nThen did Patroclus forget the word which Achilles had spoken to him, that\nhe should not go near to Troy, for he pursued the men of the city even to\nthe wall. Thrice he mounted on the angle of the wall, and thrice Apollo\nhimself drove him back, pushing his shining shield. But the fourth time\nthe god said, \u201cGo thou back, Patroclus. It is not for thee to take the\ncity of Troy; no, nor for Achilles, who is far better than thou art.\u201d\n\nSo Patroclus went back, fearing the wrath of the archer-god. Then Apollo\nstirred up the spirit of Hector, that he should go against Patroclus.\nTherefore he went, with his brother Cebriones for driver of his chariot.\nBut when they came near, Patroclus cast a great stone which he had in his\nhand, and smote Cebriones on the forehead, crushing it in, so that he\nfell headlong from the chariot. And Patroclus mocked him, saying\u2014\n\n\u201cHow nimble is this man! how lightly he dives! What spoil he would take\nof oysters, diving from a ship, even in a stormy sea! Who would have\nthought that there were such skilful divers in Troy!\u201d\n\nThen again the battle waxed hot about the body of Cebriones, and this\ntoo, at the last, the Greeks drew unto themselves, and spoiled it of\nthe arms. And this being accomplished, Patroclus rushed against the men\nof Troy. Thrice he rushed, and each time he slew nine chiefs of fame.\nBut the fourth time Apollo stood behind him and struck him on the head\nand shoulders, so that his eyes were darkened. And the helmet fell from\noff his head, so that the horsehair plumes were soiled with dust. Never\nbefore had it touched the ground, for it was the helmet of Achilles. And\nalso the god brake the spear in his hand, and struck the shield from his\narms, and loosed his corslet. All amazed he stood, and then Euphorbus,\nson of Pantho\u00fcs, smote him on the back with his spear, but slew him not.\nThen Patroclus sought to flee to the ranks of his comrades. But Hector\nsaw him, and thrust at him with his spear, smiting him in the groin, so\nthat he fell. And when the Greeks saw him fall, they sent up a terrible\ncry. Then Hector stood over him and cried\u2014\n\n\u201cDidst thou think to spoil our city, Patroclus, and to carry away our\nwives and daughters in the ships? But lo! I have slain thee, and the\nfowls of the air shall eat thy flesh; nor shall the great Achilles help\nthee at all\u2014Achilles, who bade thee, I trow, strip the tunic from my\nbreast, and thou thoughtest in thy folly to do it.\u201d\n\nBut Patroclus answered, \u201cThou boasteth much, Hector. Yet _thou_ didst not\nslay me, but Apollo, who took from me my arms, for had twenty such as\nthou met me, I had slain them all. And mark thou this: death and fate are\nclose to thee by the hand of the great Achilles.\u201d\n\nAnd Hector answered (but Patroclus was dead already), \u201cWhy dost thou\nprophesy death to me? May be the great Achilles himself shall fall by my\nhand.\u201d Then he drew his spear from the wound, and went after Automedon,\nto slay him, but the swift horses of Achilles carried him away.\n\nFierce was the fight about the body of Patroclus, and many heroes fell,\nboth on this side and on that, and first of them all Euphorbus, who,\nindeed, had wounded him. For as he came near to strip the dead man of his\narms, Menelaus slew him with his spear. He slew him, but took not his\narms, for Hector came through the battle; nor did Menelaus dare to abide\nhis coming, but went back into the ranks of his own people. Then did\nHector strip off the arms of Patroclus, the arms which the great Achilles\nhad given him to wear. He laid hold of the body, and would have dragged\nit into the host of the Trojans, but Ajax Telamon came forth, and put\nhis broad shield before it, as a lion stands before its cubs when the\nhunters meet it in the woods, drawing down over its eyes its shaggy brows.\n\nAnd all the while the battle raged about the dead Patroclus. At last Ajax\nsaid to Menelaus (now these two had borne themselves more bravely in the\nfight than all others), \u201cSee if thou canst find Antilochus, Nestor\u2019s son,\nthat he may carry the tidings to Achilles, how that Patroclus is dead.\u201d\n\nSo Menelaus went and found Antilochus on the left of the battle, and\nsaid to him, \u201cI have ill news for thee. Thou seest that the men of Troy\nhave the victory to-day. And also Patroclus lies dead. Run, therefore,\nto Achilles, and tell him, if haply he may save the body; but as for the\narms, Hector has them already.\u201d\n\nSore dismayed was Antilochus to hear such tidings, and his eyes were\nfilled with tears and his voice was choked. Yet did he give heed to the\nwords of Menelaus, and ran to tell Achilles of what had chanced.\n\nAntilochus came near to Achilles, who, indeed, seeing that the Greeks\nfled and the men of Troy pursued, was already sore afraid. And he said,\nweeping as he spake, \u201cI bring ill news\u2014Patroclus lies low. The Greeks\nfight for his body, but Hector has his arms.\u201d\n\nThen Achilles took of the dust of the plain in his hands, and poured it\non his head, and lay at his length upon the ground, and tore his hair.\nAnd all the women wailed. And Antilochus sat weeping; but ever he held\nthe hands of Achilles, lest he should slay himself in his great grief.\n\nThen came his mother, hearing his cry, from where she sat in the depths\nof the sea, and laid her hand on him and said, \u201cWhy weepest thou, my son?\nHide not the matter from me, but tell me.\u201d\n\nAnd Achilles answered, \u201cAll that Jupiter promised thee for me he hath\nfulfilled. But what profit have I, for lo! my friend Patroclus is dead,\nand Hector has the arms which I gave him to wear. And as for me, I care\nnot to live, except I can avenge me upon him.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEATH OF HECTOR\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\nPriam stood on a tower of the wall and saw the people flying before the\nattacks of Achilles, so he hastened down to the gates and said to the\nkeepers, \u201cKeep the wicket-gates open, that the people may enter in.\u201d\n\nSo the keepers held the gates open, and the people hastened in, wearied\nwith toil and thirst and covered with dust, and Achilles followed close\nupon them. At that hour the Greeks would have taken the city of Troy, but\nthat Apollo saved it by putting courage into the heart of Antenor\u2019s son\nAgenor, and by standing by him that he should not be slain.\n\nAgenor stood thinking within himself\u2014\u201cShall I flee with these others?\nAchilles will take me and slay me, and I shall die as a coward dies. What\nif I stand to meet him before the gates? He, too, is a mortal man and\nhis flesh may be pierced by the spear.\u201d\n\nWhen Achilles came near he cast his spear, striking the leg below the\nknee, but the armor was so strong it turned off the spear. But when\nAchilles would have slain him, lo! Apollo lifted him up and set him\nwithin the city, and that the men of Troy might have space to enter, he\ntook upon him Agenor\u2019s shape. The false Agenor fled, and Achilles pursued\nhim.\n\nIn the meanwhile the men of Troy flocked into the city, without stopping\nto ask who was safe and who was dead. Only Hector remained outside the\nwalls, standing in front of the great Sc\u00e6an gates. But all the while\nAchilles was fiercely pursuing the false Agenor, till at last Apollo\nturned and spake to him\u2014\n\n\u201cWhy dost thou pursue me, swift-footed Achilles? Hast thus not yet found\nout that I am a god, and that all thy fury is in vain? All the sons of\nTroy are safe in their city, and thou art here, far out of the way,\nseeking to slay me, who cannot die.\u201d\n\nIn great wrath Achilles answered him, \u201cThou hast done me wrong in so\ndrawing me away from the wall, great archer, most mischief-loving of all\nthe gods. Had it not been for this, many a Trojan more had bitten the\nground. Thou hast robbed me of great glory, and saved thy favorites. O\nthat I had the power to take vengeance on thee! Thou hadst paid dearly\nfor thy cheat!\u201d\n\nThen he turned and rushed towards the city, swift as a racehorse whirls\na chariot across the plain. Old Priam spied him from the walls, with his\nglittering armor, bright as that brightest of the stars\u2014men call it\nOrion\u2019s dog\u2014which shines at vintage-time, a baleful light, bringing the\nfevers of autumn to men. And the old man groaned aloud when he saw him,\nand stretching out his hands, cried to his son Hector, where he stood\nbefore the gates, eager to do battle with this dread warrior\u2014\n\n\u201cWait not for this man, dear son, wait not for him, lest thou die beneath\nhis hand, for indeed he is stronger than thou. Wretch that he is! I would\nthat the gods bare such love to him as I bare! Right soon would the dogs\nand vultures eat him. Of many brave sons has he bereaved me. Two I miss\nto-day\u2014Polydorus and Lycaon. May be they are yet alive in the host of\nthe Greeks, and I shall buy them back with gold, of which I have yet\ngreat store in my house. And if they are dead, sore grief will it be to\nme and to the mother who bare them; but little will care the other sons\nof Troy, so that thou fall not beneath the hand of Achilles. Come within\nthe walls, dear child; come to save the sons and daughters of Troy; come\nin pity for me, thy father, for whom, in my old age, an evil fate is\nin store, to see sons slain with the sword, and daughters carried into\ncaptivity, and babes dashed upon the ground. Ay, and last of all, the\ndogs which I have reared in my palace will devour me as I lie on the\nthreshold of my home. That a young man should fall in battle and suffer\nsuch lot as happens to the slain, this is to be borne; but that such\ndishonor should be done to the white hair and white beard of the old,\nmortal eyes can see no fouler sight than this.\u201d\n\nThus old Priam spake, but could not turn the heart of his son. And from\nthe wall on the other side of the gate his mother called to him, weeping\nsore, and said\u2014\n\n\u201cPity me, my son; think of how in the old days I stilled thy cries. Come\nwithin the walls; wait not for this man, nor stand in battle against\nhim. If he slay thee, neither I, nor thy wife, shall pay thee the last\nhonors of the dead, but far away by the ships of the Greeks the dogs and\nvultures will devour thee.\u201d\n\nSo father and mother besought their son, but all in vain. He was still\nminded to abide the coming of Achilles. Just as in the mountains a great\nsnake at its hole abides the coming of a man: fierce glare its eyes,\nand it coils its tail: so Hector waited for Achilles; and as he waited\nhe thought thus within himself\u2014\u201cWoe is me if I go within the walls;\nPolydamas will be the first to reproach me, for he advised me to bring\nback the sons of Troy to the city before the night when Achilles roused\nhimself to war. But I would not listen to him. Would that I had! it had\nbeen much better for us; but now I have destroyed the people by my folly.\nI fear the sons and daughters of Troy, what they may say; I fear lest\nsome coward reproach me: \u2018Hector trusted in his strength, and lo! he has\ndestroyed the people.\u2019 Better were it for me either to slay Achilles or\nto fall by his hand with honor here before the walls. Or, stay: shall I\nput down my shield, and lay aside my helmet, and lean my spear against\nthe wall and go to meet the great Achilles, and promise that we will\ngive back the fair Helen, and all the wealth that Paris carried off\nwith her; ay, and render up all the wealth that there is in the city,\nthat the Greeks may divide it among themselves, binding the sons of Troy\nwith an oath that they keep nothing back? But this is idle talk: he will\nhave no shame or pity, but will slay me while I stand without arms or\narmor before him. It is not for us to talk as a youth and a maiden talk\ntogether. It is better to meet in arms, and see whether the ruler of\nOlympus will give victory to him or to me.\u201d Thus he thought in his heart.\n\nAchilles came near, brandishing over his right shoulder the great Pelian\nspear, and the flash of his arms was as the flame of fire, or as the\nrising sun. And Hector trembled when he saw him, nor dared to abide his\ncoming. Fast he fled from the gates, and fast Achilles pursued him, as a\nhawk, fastest of all the birds of air, pursues a dove upon the mountains.\nPast the watch-tower they ran, past the wind-blown fig-tree, along the\nwagon-road which went about the walls, and they came to the fair-flowing\nfountain where from two springs rises the stream of eddying Scamander.\nHot is one spring, and a steam ever goes up from it, as from a burning\nfire; and cold is the other, cold, even in the summer heats, as hail or\nsnow or ice. There are fair basins of stone, where the wives and fair\ndaughters of Troy were wont to wash their garments, but that was in the\nold days of peace, before the Greeks came to the land. Past the springs\nthey ran, one flying, the other pursuing: brave was he that fled, braver\nhe that pursued: it was no sheep for sacrifice or shield of ox-hide for\nwhich they ran, but for the life of Hector, the tamer of horses. Thrice\nthey ran round the city, and all the gods looked on.\n\nAnd Jupiter said, \u201cThis is a piteous sight that I behold. My heart is\ngrieved for Hector\u2014Hector, who has ever worshipped me with sacrifice,\nsometimes on the heights of Ida, and sometimes in the citadel of Troy;\nand now the great Achilles is pursuing him round the city of Priam. Come,\nye gods, let us take counsel together. Shall we save him from death, or\nlet him fall beneath the hand of Achilles?\u201d\n\nThen Minerva said, \u201cWhat is this that thou sayest, great sire?\u2014to rescue\na man whom fate has appointed to die? Do it, if it be thy will; but we,\nthe other gods, approve it not.\u201d\n\nJupiter answered her, \u201cMy heart is unwilling; yet I would do thee\npleasure. Be it as thou wilt.\u201d\n\nThen Minerva came down in haste from the top of Olympus, and still Hector\nfled and Achilles pursued, just as a dog pursues a fawn upon the hills.\nAnd ever Hector made for the gates, to get shelter beneath the towers,\nif haply those that stood upon them might defend him with their spears;\nand ever Achilles would get before him, and drive him towards the plain.\nSo they ran, one making for the city, and the other driving him to the\nplain. Just as in a dream, when one seems to fly and another seems to\npursue, and the one cannot escape and the other cannot overtake, so these\ntwo ran together. But as for Hector, Apollo even yet helped him, and gave\nhim strength and nimble knees, else could he not have held out against\nAchilles, who was swiftest of foot among the sons of men.\n\nNow Achilles had beckoned to the Greeks that no man should throw his\nspear at Hector, lest, perchance, he should be robbed of his glory. And\nwhen the two came in their running for the fourth time to the springs of\nScamander, Jupiter held out the great balance of doom, and in one scale\nhe put the fate of Achilles, and in the other the fate of Hector; and lo!\nthe scale of Hector sank down to the realms of death, and Apollo left him.\n\nThen Minerva lighted down from the air close to Achilles and said, \u201cThis,\ngreat Achilles, is our day of glory, for we shall slay Hector, mighty\nwarrior though he be. For it is his doom to die and Apollo shall not save\nhim. But stand thou still and take breath, and I will give this man heart\nto meet thee in battle.\u201d\n\nSo Achilles stood, leaning upon his spear. And Minerva took the shape of\nDe\u00efphobus, and came near to Hector and said\u2014\n\n\u201cAchilles presses thee hard, my brother, pursuing thee thus round the\ncity of Priam. Come, let us make a stand and encounter him.\u201d\n\nThen Hector answered him, \u201cDe\u00efphobus, I always loved thee best of all my\nbrothers; but now I love thee yet more, for that thou alone, while all\nothers remained within, hast ventured forth to stand by my side.\u201d\n\nBut the false De\u00efphobus said, \u201cMuch did father and mother and all my\ncomrades beseech me to remain. But my heart was sore troubled for thee,\nand I could not stay. Let us stand and fight this man, not stinting our\nspears, and see whether he shall carry our spoil to the ships or we\nshall slay him here.\u201d\n\nThen the two chiefs came near to each other, and Hector with a waving\nplume spake first and said, \u201cThrice, great Achilles, hast thou pursued\nme round the walls of Troy, and I dared not stand up against thee; but\nnow I fear thee no more. Only let us make this covenant between us: if\nJupiter give me the victory, I will do no dishonor to thy body; thy arms\nand armor will I take, and give back thy body to the Greeks; and do thou\npromise to do likewise.\u201d\n\nBut Achilles scowled at him and said, \u201cHector, talk not of covenants to\nme. Men and lions make no oaths between each other, neither is there any\nagreement between wolves and sheep. So there shall be no covenant between\nme and thee. One of us two shall fall; and now is the time for thee to\nshow thyself a warrior, for of a truth Minerva will slay thee by my\nspear, and thou shalt pay the penalty for all my comrades whom thou hast\nslain.\u201d\n\nThen he threw the mighty spear, but Hector saw it coming and avoided it,\ncrouching on the ground, so that the mighty spear flew above his head and\nfixed itself in the earth. But Minerva snatched it from the ground and\ngave it back to Achilles, Hector not perceiving.\n\nThen Hector spake to Achilles, \u201cThou hast missed thy aim, great Achilles.\nIt was no word of Jupiter that thou spakest, prophesying my doom, but\nthou soughtest to cheat me, terrifying me by thy words. Thou shalt not\ndrive thy steel into my back, but here into my breast, if the gods will\nit so. But now look out for my spear. Would it might bury itself in thy\nflesh. The battle would be easier for the men of Troy were thou only out\nof the way.\u201d\n\nAnd as he spake he threw his long-shafted spear. True aim he took, for\nthe spear struck the very middle of Achilles\u2019 shield. It struck, but\npierced it not, but bounded far away, for the shield was not of mortal\nmake. And Hector stood dismayed, for he had not another spear, and when\nhe called to De\u00efphobus that he should give him another, lo! De\u00efphobus was\ngone. Then Hector knew that his end was come, and he said to himself,\n\u201cNow have the gods called me to my doom. I thought that De\u00efphobus was\nnear; but he is within the walls, and the help which he promised me was\nbut a cheat with which Minerva cheated me. Jupiter and Apollo are with me\nno more; but, if I must die, let me at least die in such a deed as men of\nafter time may hear of.\u201d\n\nSo he spake, and drew the mighty sword that hung by his side: then, as\nan eagle rushes through the clouds to pounce on a hare or a lamb, rushed\non the great Achilles. But he dealt never a blow; for Achilles charged\nto meet him, his shield before his breast, his helmet bent forward as\nhe ran, with the long plumes streaming behind, and the gleam of his\nspear-point was as the gleam of the evening star, which is the fairest\nof all the stars in heaven. One moment he thought where he should drive\nit home, for the armor which Hector had won from Patroclus guarded him\nwell; but one spot there was, where by the collar-bone the neck joins\nthe shoulder (and nowhere is the stroke of sword or spear more deadly).\nThere he drave in the spear, and the point stood out behind the neck, and\nHector fell in the dust.\n\nThen Achilles cried aloud, \u201cHector, thou thoughtest in the day when\nthou didst spoil Patroclus of his arms that thou wouldst be safe from\nvengeance, taking, forsooth, no account of me. And lo! thou art fallen\nbefore me.\u201d\n\nBut Hector, growing faint, spake to him: \u201cTake the ransom, gold and\nbronze, that my father and mother shall pay thee, and let the sons and\ndaughters of Troy give me burial rites.\u201d\n\nBut Achilles scowled at him, and cried, \u201cDog, seek not to entreat me!\nNo ransom, though it were ten times told, should buy thee back; no, not\nthough Priam should offer thy weight in gold.\u201d\n\nThen Hector, who was now at the point to die, spake to him: \u201cI know thee\nwell, what manner of man thou art, that the heart in thy breast is iron\nonly. Only beware lest some vengeance from the gods come upon thee in\nthe day when Paris and Apollo shall slay thee, for all thy valor, by the\nSc\u00e6an gates.\u201d\n\nSo speaking, he died. But Achilles said, \u201cDie, hound; but my fate I meet\nwhen Jupiter and the other gods decree.\u201d\n\nThe Greeks came about the dead man, marvelling at his stature and beauty.\nAnd one would say to another, \u201cSurely this Hector is less dreadful now\nthan in the day when he would burn our ships with fire.\u201d\n\nThen Achilles devised a ruthless thing in his heart. He bound the body\nwith thongs of ox-hide to the chariot, letting the head drag behind,\nand thus he dragged Hector to the ships. Priam saw him from the walls,\nand scarce could his sons keep him back, but that he should go forth and\nbeg the body of his dear son from him who had slain him. And Hecuba his\nmother also bewailed him, but his wife Andromach\u00e9 knew not at yet of what\nhad befallen him. For she sat in her dwelling, wearing a great purple\nmantle broidered with flowers. And she bade her maidens make ready a bath\nfor Hector, when he should come back from the battle, nor knew that he\nshould never need it more. But the voice of wailing from the town came to\nher, and she rose up hastily in great fear, and dropped the shuttle from\nher hand and called to her maidens\u2014\n\n\u201cCome with me, ye maidens, that I may see what has befallen, for I heard\nthe voice of Queen Hecuba, and I fear me much that some evil has come to\nthe children of Priam. For it may be that Achilles has run between Hector\nand the city, and is pursuing him to the plain, for never will Hector\nabide with the army, but will fight in the front, so bold is he.\u201d\n\nThen she hasted through the city as if she were mad. And when she came\nto the wall she stood and looked; and lo! the horses of Achilles were\ndragging Hector to the ships. Then did darkness come on her, and she fell\nback fainting, and from her fair head dropped the net and the wreath and\nthe diadem which golden Venus gave her on the day when Hector of the\nwaving plume took her from the house of E\u00ebtion to be his wife.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RANSOMING OF HECTOR\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nAfter a while, at the bidding of Jupiter, Thetis went to Achilles and\nfound him weeping softly for his dead friend, for the strength of his\nsorrow was now spent, and she said to him, \u201cIt is the will of the gods\nthat thou give up the body of Hector, and take in exchange the ransom of\ngold and precious things which his father will give thee for him.\u201d\n\nAnd her son answered, \u201cBe it so, if the gods will have it.\u201d\n\nThen Jupiter sent Iris, who was his messenger, to King Priam, where he\nsat with his face wrapped in his mantle, and his sons weeping about him,\nand his daughters wailing through the chambers of his palace.\n\nThen Iris spake. \u201cBe of good cheer, Priam; Jupiter has sent me to thee.\nGo, taking with thee such gifts as may best please the heart of Achilles,\nand bring back the body of thy dear son Hector. Go without fear of death\nor harm, and go alone. Only let an aged herald be with thee, to help thee\nwhen thou bringest back the body of the dead.\u201d\n\nThen Priam rose with joy, and bade his sons bring forth his chariot; but\nfirst he went to his chamber, and called to Hecuba, his wife, and told\nher of his purpose, nor heeded when she sought to turn him from it, but\nsaid, \u201cSeek not to hold me back, nor be a bird of evil omen in my house.\nIf any prophet or seer had bidden me do this thing, I should have held\nit a deceit; but now have I heard the very voice of the messenger of\nJupiter. Wherefore, I shall go. And if I die, what care I? Let Achilles\nslay me, so that I embrace once more the body of my son.\u201d\n\nThen he bade them put into a wagon shawls and mantles that had never\nbeen washed, and rugs and cloaks and tunics, twelve of each, and ten\ntalents of gold, and two bright three-footed caldrons, and four basins,\nand a cup of great beauty which the Thracians had given him. The old man\nspared nothing that he had, if only he might buy back his son. None of\nthe Trojans would he suffer to come near him. \u201cBegone,\u201d he cried, \u201cye\ncowards! Have ye nothing to wail for at home, that ye come to wail with\nme? Surely, an easy prey will ye be to the Greeks, now that Hector is\ndead.\u201d\n\nThen he cried with like angry words to his sons, Paris, and Agathon, and\nDe\u00efphobus, and the others\u2014there were nine of them in all\u2014\u201cMake haste,\nye evil brood. Would that ye all had died instead of Hector. Surely an\nill-fated father am I. Many a brave son I had, as Mestor, and Tro\u00eflus,\nand Hector, who was fairer than any of the sons of men. But all these are\ngone, and only the cowards are left, masters of lying words, and skilful\nin the dance, and mighty to drink wine. But go, yoke the mules to the\nwagon.\u201d\n\nSo they yoked the mules to the wagon. But the horses for his chariot\nPriam, with the herald, yoked himself.\n\nThen Hecuba came near, and bade a woman-servant come and pour water on\nhis hands. And when she had poured, King Priam took a great cup from the\nhands of his wife, and made a libation to Jupiter, and prayed\u2014\u201cHear me,\nFather Jupiter, and grant that Achilles may pity me. And do thou send me\nnow a lucky sign, that I may go with a good heart to the ships of the\nGreeks.\u201d\n\nAnd Jupiter heard him, and sent an eagle, a mighty bird, whose wings\nspread out on either side as wide as is the door of some spacious chamber\nin a rich man\u2019s house. On his right hand it flew high above the city, and\nall rejoiced when they saw the sign.\n\nThen the old man mounted his chariot in haste, and drove forth from the\npalace. Before him the mules drew the four-wheeled wagon, and these the\nherald Id\u00e6us guided. But his chariot the old king drove himself. And\nall his kinsfolk went with him, weeping as for one who was going to his\ndeath. But when they came down from the city to the plain, Priam and the\nherald went towards the ships of the Greeks, but all the others returned\nto Troy.\n\nJupiter saw him depart, and said to Mercury, \u201cMercury, go, guide King\nPriam to the ships of the Greeks, so that no man see him before he comes\nto the tents of Achilles.\u201d\n\nThen Mercury fastened on his feet the fair sandals of gold with which he\nflies, fast as the wind, over sea and land, and in his hand he took the\nrod with which he opens and closes, as he wills, the eyes of men. And he\nflew down and lighted on the plain of Troy, taking on him the likeness of\na fair youth.\n\nWhen they had driven past the great tomb of Ilus, they stopped the horses\nand the mules, to let them drink of the river. And darkness came over the\nland; and then the herald spied Mercury, and said\u2014\u201cConsider, my lord,\nwhat we shall do. I see a man, and I am sore afraid lest he slay us.\nShall we flee on the chariot, or shall we go near and entreat him, that\nhe may have pity upon us?\u201d\n\nThen the old man was sore troubled, and his hair stood up with fear. But\nMercury came near and took him by the hand and said\u2014\u201cWhither goest thou,\nold man, with thy horses and mules through the darkness? Hast thou no\nfear of these fierce Greeks, who are close at hand? If any one should see\nthee with all this wealth, what then? And thou art not young, nor is thy\nattendant young, that ye should defend yourselves against an enemy. But I\nwill not harm thee, nor suffer any other, for thou art like my own dear\nfather.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is well, my son,\u201d said the old man. \u201cSurely one of the blessed gods\nis with me, in causing me to meet such an one as thou, so fair and so\nwise. Happy the parents of such a son!\u201d\n\nAnd Mercury said, \u201cCome, tell me true, old man. Are you sending away all\nthese treasures that they may be kept safe for you far away? Or are all\nthe men of Troy leaving the city, seeing now that Hector, who was their\nbravest warrior, is dead?\u201d\n\nThen Priam answered, \u201cWho art thou, my son, and what thy race, that thou\nspeakest so truly about my hapless son?\u201d\n\n\u201cOften,\u201d said Mercury, \u201chave I seen Hector in the battle, both at other\ntimes, and when he drove the Greeks before him at the ships. We, indeed,\nstood and watched and marvelled at him, for Achilles would not suffer\nus to fight, being angry with King Agamemnon. Now, I am a follower of\nAchilles, coming from Greece in the same ship with him. One of the\nMyrmidons I am, son of Polyctor, an old man such as thou art. Six other\nsons he has, and when we drew lots who should come to the war, it fell\nto me. But know that with the morning the Greeks will set their battle\nin array against the city, for they are weary of their sojourn, and the\nkings cannot keep them back.\u201d\n\nThen said Priam, \u201cIf they art an attendant of Achilles, tell me true, is\nmy son yet by the ships, or have the dogs devoured him?\u201d\n\nAnd Mercury answered, \u201cNor dogs nor vultures have devoured him. Still he\nlies by the ships of Achilles; and though this is the twelfth day since\nhe was slain, no decay has touched him. Nay, though Achilles drags him\nround the tomb of his dear Patroclus, yet even so does no unseemliness\ncome to him. All fresh he lies, and the blood is washed from him, and all\nhis wounds are closed\u2014and many spear-points pierced him. The blessed gods\nlove him well, dead man though he be.\u201d\n\nThis King Priam was well pleased to hear. \u201cIt is well,\u201d he said, \u201cfor a\nman to honor the gods; for indeed, as my son never forgot the dwellers\non Olympus, so have they not forgotten him, even in death. But do thou\ntake this fair cup and do kindness to him, and lead me to the tent of\nAchilles.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d answered Mercury, \u201cthou speakest this in vain. No gift would I\ntake from thy hand unknown to Achilles; for I honor him much, and fear to\nrob him, lest some evil happen to me afterwards. But thee I will guide\nto Argos itself, if thou wilt, whether by land or sea, and no one shall\nblame my guiding.\u201d\n\nThen he leapt into the chariot of the king and caught the reins in his\nhand, and gave the horses and the mules a strength that was not their\nown. And when they came to the ditch and the trench that guarded the\nships, lo! the guards were busy with their meals; but Mercury made sleep\ndescend upon them, and opened the gates and brought in Priam with his\ntreasures. And when they came to the tent of Achilles, Mercury lighted\ndown from the chariot and said\u2014\n\n\u201cLo! I am Mercury, whom my father Jupiter hath sent to be thy guide. And\nnow I shall depart, for I would not that Achilles should see me. But\ngo thou in, and clasp his knees, and beseech him by his father and his\nmother and his child. So shalt thou move his heart with pity.\u201d\n\nSo Mercury departed to Olympus, and King Priam leapt down from the\nchariot, leaving the herald to care for the horses and the mules, and\nwent to the tent. There he found Achilles sitting; his comrades sat\napart, but two waited on him, for he had but newly ended his meal, and\nthe table was yet at his hand. But no man saw King Priam till he was\nclose to Achilles, and he caught his knees and kissed his hands, the\ndreadful murderous hands that had slain so many of his sons. As a man who\nslays another by mishap flies to some stranger land, to some rich man\u2019s\nhome, and all wonder to see him, so Achilles wondered to see King Priam,\nand his comrades wondered, looking one at another. Then King Priam spake\u2014\n\n\u201cThink of thy father, godlike Achilles, and pity me. He is old, as I\nam, and, it may be, his neighbors trouble him, seeing that he has no\ndefender; yet so long as he knows that thou art alive, it is well with\nhim, for every day he hopes to see his dear son return from Troy. But\nas for me, I am altogether wretched. Many a valiant son I had\u2014nineteen\nborn to me of one mother\u2014and most of them are dead, and he that was the\nbest of all, who kept our city safe, he has been slain by thee. He it is\nwhom I have come to ransom. Have pity on him and on me, thinking of thy\nfather. Never, surely, was lot so sad as this, to kiss the hands that\nslew a son.\u201d\n\nThe words so stirred the heart of Achilles that he wept, thinking now of\nPatroclus, and now of his old father at home; and Priam wept, thinking of\nhis dead Hector. But at last Achilles stood up from his seat and raised\nKing Priam, having pity on his white hair and his white beard, and spake\u2014\n\n\u201cHow didst thou dare to come to the ships of the Greeks, to the man\nwho slew thy sons? Surely thou must have a heart of iron. But sit thou\ndown: let our sorrows rest in our hearts, for there is no profit in\nlamentation. It is the will of the gods that men should suffer woe,\nbut they are themselves free from care. Two chests are set by the side\nof Father Jupiter, one of good and one of evil gifts, and he mixes the\nlot of men, taking out of both. Many noble gifts did the gods give to\nKing Peleus, my father; wealth and bliss beyond that of other men, and\nkingship over the Myrmidons. Ay! and they gave him a goddess to be his\nwife. But they gave also this evil, that he had no stock of stalwart\nchildren in his house, but one son only, and I cannot help him at all in\nhis old age, for I tarry here far away in Troy. Thou, too, old man, hadst\nwealth and power of old, and lordship over all that lies between Lesbos\nand Phrygia and the stream of Hellespont. And to thee the gods have given\nthis ill, that there is ever battle and slaughter about thy city walls.\nBut as for thy son, wail not for him, for thou canst not raise him up.\u201d\n\nBut Priam answered, \u201cMake me not to sit, great Achilles, while Hector\nlies unhonored. Let me ransom him, and look upon him with my eyes, and\ndo thou take the gifts. And the gods grant thee to return safe to thy\nfatherland.\u201d\n\nBut Achilles frowned and said, \u201cVex me not; I am minded myself to give\nthee back thy Hector. My mother came from the sea, bearing the bidding of\nJupiter and thou, methinks, hast not come hither without some guidance\nfrom the gods. But trouble me no more, lest I do thee some hurt.\u201d\n\nAnd King Priam feared and held his peace. Then Achilles hastened from his\ntent, and two comrades with him. First they loosed the horses from the\nchariot and the mules from the wagon; then they brought in the herald\nId\u00e6us, and took the gifts. Only they left of them two cloaks and a tunic,\nwherein they might wrap the dead. And Achilles bade the women wash and\nanoint the body, but away from the tent, lest perchance Priam should see\nhis son and cry aloud, and so awaken the fury in his heart. But when it\nwas washed and anointed, Achilles himself lifted it in his arms and put\nit on the litter, and his comrades lifted the litter on the wagon.\n\nAnd when all was finished, Achilles groaned and cried to his dead friend,\nsaying\u2014\n\n\u201cBe not wroth, Patroclus, if thou shouldst hear in the unknown land that\nI have ransomed Hector to his father: a noble ransom hath he paid me, and\nof this, too, thou shalt have thy share.\u201d\n\nThen he went back to his tent, and set himself down opposite Priam, and\nspake: \u201cThy son is ransomed, old man, and to-morrow shalt thou see him\nand take him back to Troy. But now let us eat. Did not Niobe eat when she\nlost her twelve children, six daughters and six sons, whom Apollo and\nDiana slew because she likened herself to the fair Latona? So let us eat,\nold man. To-morrow shalt thou weep for Hector; many tears, I trow, shall\nbe shed for him.\u201d\n\nSo they ate and drank. And when the meal was ended, Achilles sat and\nmarvelled at King Priam\u2019s noble look, and King Priam marvelled at\nAchilles, so strong he was and fair.\n\nThen Priam said, \u201cLet me sleep, great Achilles. I have not slept since my\nson fell by thy hand. Now I have eaten and drunk, and my eyes are heavy.\u201d\n\nSo the comrades of Achilles made him a bed outside, where no one might\nsee him, should it chance that any of the chiefs should come to the tent\nof Achilles to take counsel, and should espy him, and tell it to King\nAgamemnon.\n\nBut before he slept King Priam said, \u201cIf thou art minded to let me bury\nHector, let there be a truce between my people and the Greeks. For nine\ndays let us mourn for Hector, and on the tenth will we bury him and feast\nthe people, and on the eleventh raise a great tomb above him, and on the\ntwelfth we will fight again, if fight we must.\u201d\n\nAnd Achilles answered, \u201cBe it so: I will stay the war for so long.\u201d\n\nBut while Priam slept there came to him Mercury, the messenger of\nJupiter, and said: \u201cSleepest thou, Priam, among thy foes? Achilles has\ntaken ransom for thy Hector; but thy sons that are left would pay thrice\nas much for thee should Agamemnon hear that thou wert among the ships.\u201d\n\nThe old man heard and trembled, and roused the herald, and the two yoked\nthe horses and the mules. So they passed through the army, and no man\nknew. And when they came to the river, Mercury departed to Olympus, and\nthe morning shone over all the earth. Wailing and weeping, they carried\nthe body to the city.\n\nIt was Cassandra who first espied them as they came. Her father she saw,\nand the herald, and then the dead body on the litter, and she cried,\n\u201cSons and daughters of Troy, go to meet Hector, if ever ye have met him,\nwith joy as he came back from the battle.\u201d\n\nAnd straightway there was not man or woman left in the city. They met\nthe wagon when it was close to the gates; his wife led the way, and his\nmother and all the multitude followed. And in truth they would have kept\nit thus till evening, weeping and wailing, but King Priam spake\u2014\u201cLet us\npass; ye shall have enough of wailing when we have taken him to his home.\u201d\n\nSo they took him to his home and laid him on his bed. And the minstrels\nlamented, and the women wailed.\n\nThen first of all came Andromach\u00e9, his wife, and cried\u2014\u201cO my husband,\nthou hast perished in thy youth, and I am left in widowhood, and our\nchild, thy child and mine, is but an infant. I fear me he will not grow\nto manhood. Ere that day this city will fall, for thou art gone who wast\nits defender. Soon will they carry us away, mothers and children, in\nthe ships, and thou, my son, perchance wilt be with us, and serve the\nstranger in unseemly bondage; or, it may be, some Greek will slay thee,\nseizing thee and dashing thee from the wall; some Greek whose brother, or\nfather, or son, Hector has slain in the battle. Many a Greek did Hector\nslay; no gentle hand was his in the fray. Therefore do the people wail\nfor him to-day. Sore is thy parents\u2019 grief, O Hector, but sorest mine.\nThou didst stretch no hands of farewell to me from thy bed, nor speak any\nword of comfort for me to muse on while I weep night and day.\u201d\n\nNext spake Hecuba, his mother. \u201cDear wast thou, my son, in life to the\nimmortal gods, and dear in death. Achilles dragged thee about the tomb\nof his dear Patroclus, but could not bring him back, and now thou liest\nfresh and fair as one whom the god of the silver bow has slain with\nsudden stroke.\u201d\n\nAnd last of all came Helen, and cried, \u201cMany a year has passed since I\ncame to Troy\u2014would that I had died before! And never have I heard from\nthy lips one bitter word, and if ever husband\u2019s sister, or sister-in-law,\nor mother-in-law\u2014for Priam was ever gentle as a father\u2014spake harshly to\nme, thou wouldst check them with thy grace and gracious words. Therefore\nI weep for thee; no one is left to be my friend in all the broad streets\nof Troy. All shun and hate me now.\u201d\n\nAnd all the people wailed reply.\n\nThen Priam spake. \u201cGo, my people, gather wood for the burial, and fear\nnot any ambush of the Greeks, for Achilles promised that he would stay\nthe war until the twelfth day should come.\u201d\n\nSo for nine days the people gathered much wood, and on the tenth they\nlaid Hector upon the pile, and lit fire beneath it. And when it was\nburnt they quenched the embers with wine. Then his brethren and comrades\ngathered together the white bones, and laid them in a chest of gold; and\nthis they covered with purple robes and put in a great coffin, and laid\nupon it stones many and great. And over all they raised a mighty mound;\nand all the while the watchers watched, lest the Greeks should arise and\nslay them. Last of all was a great feast held in the palace of King Priam.\n\nSo they buried Hector, the tamer of horses.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WOODEN HORSE\n\nBy Grace Bigelow Patten\n\n\nFor nine long years the Greeks besieged Troy, but for all their plans and\nman\u0153uvres the city held out against them. They pillaged and overran the\nneighboring towns but Troy stood fast.\n\nNever were brave men pitted against a braver enemy. The lives of many\nheroes were sacrificed, Hector\u2019s, the greatest of the Trojan champions,\nand the valiant Achilles among them, at whose loss the Greeks almost\ndespaired. Force had failed. Their leader had fallen. They must outwit\ntheir enemy. With the aid of Ulysses they worked out an admirable plan.\n\nDown came the tents of the main body of the army, there was clatter and\njangle of departure and the Greeks swept down the slope to the sea and\ntheir ships, as though homeward bound. Afloat, they soon sailed out of\nsight behind a neighboring island and came to anchor.\n\nThe remainder of the army set to work with a will to build a gigantic\nwooden horse, his sides planked with pine, a huge, hollow horse, as full\nof peek holes as a colander and with ample room for a band of men to lie\nhidden within. When it was finished, Ulysses, Menelaus, Pyrrhus and a\ncompany of armed warriors entered the horse by means of a secret door and\nthe remainder of the Grecian army sailed away.\n\nOn seeing them depart, the Trojans believed the Greeks had at last lost\nheart, and, with victorious, headlong delight they burst through the\ngates and swarmed over the plain into the abandoned camp. Looming down\non them stood the great horse. Approaching it first with caution, they\nsoon grew bolder and youths and maidens joined hands and danced around\nit. Many urged that it be drawn into the city. Others were afraid and\nsaid, \u201cBurn it, sink it into the sea.\u201d The priest Laoco\u00f6n begged them to\nhave nothing to do with it. \u201cAre you mad? Have you not learned enough of\nGrecian fraud to be on your guard against it? For my part, I fear the\nGreeks even when they offer gifts.\u201d With that he threw his great spear at\nthe horse\u2019s side, which gave forth a hollow sound.\n\nAt that moment there was an outcry, as some herdsmen brought before the\nchiefs a miserable, sullen-looking man whose hands were bound behind\nhis back. He seemed to be the sole survivor of the Grecian army. With\nthe assurance that his life would be spared if he spoke the truth, he\ntremblingly told them of his sufferings; that he was Sinon, a Greek,\nwho, because of some grudge of Ulysses had been condemned to die as a\nsacrifice to the gods, of his escape and of his having hidden all night\nin a weedy lake and until his people were well at sea. All hearts warmed\nto him. The king ordered his hands unbound and bade him forget the Greeks\nand \u201cbe one of us.\u201d \u201cBut tell me,\u201d said the king, \u201cwhy did you build\nthis great horse?\u201d The treacherous Sinon replied, \u201cThat is an offering\nto Minerva and made so huge to prevent its being carried into the city,\nfor Calchas, the prophet, told us that if the Trojans took possession of\nit they would surely triumph over the Greeks.\u201d Hearing this, the people\nwere overjoyed, and, in spite of Laoco\u00f6n\u2019s pleading, began to plan how\nthey might drag the horse into the city. Suddenly a shudder went through\nthe crowd. Out from the surf tumbling along the beach, appeared two\nimmense serpents; breast to breast, on they came, with heads reared high,\nhissing jaws and blazing blood-red eyes. Many fled in terror. Some were\ntransfixed and stood with haggard faces as the great creatures swept up\nto Laoco\u00f6n and his two young sons, enfolded them in their hideous coils,\ncrushed them to earth, devoured them, then glided on to the citadel of\nMinerva and slipped beneath the feet of the goddess. Here was their\nomen! \u201cThe priest Laoco\u00f6n has been judged according to his deeds!\u201d they\nsaid, \u201cfor he cast his spear against this holy thing, and now the gods\nhave slain him!\u201d They at once began making a great opening in the wall.\nHoisting levers were adjusted, wheels fastened to the great feet, and\nafter wreathing the horse with green branches and flowers they began\ntugging and pushing it over the plain and into the city.\n\nThe day was given over to merrymaking and feasting; so secure did they\nfeel that the great gates were left unguarded and that night while they\nslept deeply, care free for the first time in ten years, Sinon, the\nspy, unlocked the hidden door of the great horse. Cautiously, Ulysses,\nMenelaus and their men crept out, opened the gates of the city and gave\nthe signal to their army. Silently the ships drew up and anchored and\nan armed multitude poured out into the night. Spears clashed, torches\nflared as the Greeks went plunging through the city in a hot frenzy of\ntriumph. King Priam and many of his followers fell by the sword. Houses\nwere ransacked of their jewels, golden bowls taken from the altars. The\ncity was stripped of its treasures and then burned to its foundations.\nSinon with his tale of suffering and false tears had touched the hearts\nof the Trojans and accomplished by strategy what a thousand ships and ten\nyears\u2019 siege had failed to do.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOMEWARD VOYAGE OF THE GREEK HERO ULYSSES\n\nFROM HOMER\n\n\n\n\nTHE LOTUS-EATERS\n\nBy Sir George W. Cox\n\n\nAmong the chiefs of the Greeks who fought before the walls of Troy, there\nwas none who gained for himself a greater glory than Ulysses the son of\nLaertes.\n\nBrave he was in battle, and steadfast in danger; but most of all did the\nGreeks seek his aid and counsel, when great things must be weighed and\nfixed. In every peril where there was need of the wise heart and the\nready tongue, all hastened to Ulysses, and men felt that he did more to\nthrow down the kingdom of Priam than the mightiest chieftains who fought\nonly with sword and spear.\n\nYet, in the midst of all his toil and all his great exploits, the heart\nof Ulysses was far away in rocky Ithaca, where his wife Penelope dwelt\nwith his young son Telemachus. Many a time, as the weary years of the war\nrolled on, he said within himself, \u201cAh, when will the strife be ended,\nand when shall we spread our sails to the breeze, and speed on our way\nhomewards?\u201d\n\nAt last the doom of Paris was accomplished, and the hosts of Agamemnon\ngave the city of Troy to fire and sword. Then Ulysses hastened to gather\nhis men together, that they might go to their home in Ithaca; and they\ndragged the ships down to the sea from the trenches where they had so\nlong lain idle.\n\nBut before they sat down to row the ship out to the deep water, Ulysses\nspake to them and said, \u201cO friends, think now, each one of you, of his\nhome, of his wife, and of his children. Ten times have summer and winter\npassed over us since we left them with cheerful hearts, thinking that in\nbut a little time we should come back to them laden with glory and booty.\nTen years have they mourned for us at home; and we, who set out for Troy\nin the vigor of our manhood, go back now with gray hairs, or bowed down\nwith weary labor. Yet faint not, O friends, neither be dismayed. Think\nhow they wait and long for you still at home, as we go from land to land\nin our voyage to rocky Ithaca, let not weariness weigh down your hearts,\nor things fair and beautiful lead you to seek for rest, till our ships\nare moored in the haven which we left ten years ago.\u201d\n\nWith shouts of joy they sat down to their long oars; and when they had\nrowed the ships out into the open sea, they spread the white sails to the\nbreeze, and watched the Ilian land as it faded away from their sight in\nthe far distance.\n\nFor many a day they went towards the land of the setting sun, until a\nmighty wind from the north drove them to a strange country far out of\ntheir course to Ithaca. Fair it was and peaceful beyond all lands which\nthey had seen. The sun looked down out of the cloudless heaven on fruits\nand flowers which covered the laughing earth. Far away beyond the lotus\nplains the blue hills glimmered in a dreamy haze. The trees bowed their\nheads in a peaceful slumber; and the lagging waves sank lazily to sleep\nupon the seashore. The summer breeze breathed its gentle whisper through\nthe air, and the birds sang listlessly of their loves from the waving\ngroves. Then said the men of Ulysses to one another, \u201cWould that our\nwives and our children were here! Truly Ithaca is but a rough and barren\nland, and a sore grief it is to leave this happy shore to go home, and\nthere find, it may be, that our children remember us no more.\u201d\n\nAnd Ulysses said within himself, \u201cSurely some strange spell is on this\nfair land; almost might I long to sit down and sleep on the shore for\never; but Penelope waits for me in my home, and I cannot rest till I see\nher face once more.\u201d\n\nThen he bade three of his men go forth and ask the name of the land and\nof the men who lived in it. So they went slowly from the beach where the\nwaves sang their lulling song to the sleepy flowers; and they wandered\nalong the winding stream which came from the glimmering hills far away,\ntill, deep down in a glen where the sun shed but half its light, they saw\nmen and maidens under the shade of pleasant palm-trees. Before them was\nspread a banquet of rich and rosy fruit, and some were eating, and others\nlay asleep.\n\nThe men of Ulysses went up to them, and sat down by their side, for\nthey feared them not, as men are wont to fear the people of a strange\nland. They asked not their name, for they remembered not the bidding of\nUlysses; but they drank the dark wine and ate of the rosy fruit which the\nfair maidens held out to them. \u201cEat,\u201d they said, \u201cO strangers, of the\nfruit which kills all pain: surely ye are weary and your hearts are faint\nwith sorrow, and your eyes are dim as with many tears. Eat of our fruit\nand forget your labors; for all who eat of it remember no more weary toil\nand strife and war.\u201d So they ate of the fruit, and then over their senses\nstole softly a strange and wondrous sleep, so that they saw and heard and\nspake even while they slumbered. On their ears fell the echo of a dreamy\nmusic, and forms of maidens, fair as Venus when she rose from the sea\nfoam, passed before their eyes; and they said one to another, \u201cHere let\nus sit, and feast, and dream for ever.\u201d\n\nLong time Ulysses waited on the seashore, and less and less he marvelled\nthat they came not back, for he felt that over his own heart the strange\nspell was falling: and he said, \u201cAh, Penelope, dearer to me than aught\nelse on the wide earth, the gods envy me thy love; else would they not\nseek to beguile me thus in this strange land of dreams and slumber.\u201d\n\nHe rose up, as one rises to go forth to battle, and went quickly on the\npath by which his men had gone before him. Presently he saw them in the\ndeep dell, and the rich fruit of the lotus was in their hand. They called\nto Ulysses and said, \u201cWe have come to the land of the Lotus-eaters; sit\nthou down with us and eat of their fruit, and forget all thy cares for\never.\u201d\n\nBut Ulysses answered not; and hastening back, he bade the others come\nwith him and bind the three men, and carry them to the ship. \u201cHeed not\nthe people of the land,\u201d he said, \u201cnor touch their rosy fruit. It were\na shame for men who have fought at Troy to slumber here like swine\nfattening for the slaughter.\u201d\n\nSo they hastened and bound the three men who sat at the banquet of the\nLotus-eaters; and they heeded not their words as they besought them to\ntaste of the fruit and forget all their misery and trouble. And Ulysses\nhurried them back to the shore and made them drag down the ships into the\nsea and sit down to their long oars. \u201cHasten, friends, hasten,\u201d he said,\n\u201cfrom this land of dreams. Hither come the Lotus-eaters, and their soft\nvoices will beguile our hearts if we tarry longer. They will tempt us to\ntaste of their fruit; and then we shall seek no more to go back again to\nthe land of toiling men.\u201d\n\nThe dash of their oars broke the calm of the still air, and roused the\nwaters from their slumber, as they toiled on their weary way.\n\n\n\n\nULYSSES AND THE CYCLOPS\n\nBy Sir George W. Cox\n\n\nWhen the blue hills of the Lotus-land had faded away in the far distance,\nthe ships of Ulysses went on merrily with a fresh breeze: and the men\nthought that they would soon come to rocky Ithaca, where their homes\nwere. But Minerva was angry with Ulysses, and she asked Neptune, the lord\nof the sea, to send a great storm and scatter his ships. So the wind\narose, and the waters of the sea began to heave and swell, and the sky\nwas black with clouds and rain.\n\nMany days and many nights the storm raged fiercely; and when it was over,\nUlysses could only see four or five of all the ships which had sailed\nwith him from Troy. The ships were drenched with the waves which had\nbroken over them, and the men were wet and cold and tired; and they were\nglad indeed when they saw an island far away. So they sat down on the\nbenches, and took the great oars and rowed the ships towards the shore;\nand as they came near, they saw that the island was very beautiful with\ncliffs and rocks, and bays for ships to take shelter from the sea.\n\nThey rowed into one of these quiet bays, where the water was always calm,\nand where there was no need to let down an anchor, or to tie the ship\nby ropes to the seashore, for the ship lay there quite still of itself.\nAt the head of the bay a stream of fresh water trickled down from the\ncliffs, and ran close to the opening of a large cave, and near the cave\nsome willow trees drooped their branches over the stream which ran down\ntowards the sea.\n\nSo they made haste to go on shore; and when they had landed, they saw\nfine large plains on which corn might grow, but no one had taken the\ntrouble to sow the seed; and sloping hills for the grapes to ripen on the\nvines, but none were planted on them. Ulysses marvelled at the people who\nlived there, because they had no corn and no vines, and he could see no\nhouses, but only sheep and goats feeding on the hill-sides. So he took\nhis bows and arrows, and shot many of the goats, and he and his men lay\ndown on the ground and had a merry meal. When they had finished they fell\nasleep, and did not wake up till the morning showed its rosy light in the\neastern sky.\n\nThen Ulysses said that he would take some of his men and go to see who\nlived on the island, while the others remained in the ship close to the\nseashore. So they set out, and at last they came to the mouth of a great\ncave, where many sheep and goats were penned up in large folds. They\ncould see no one in the cave or anywhere near it; and they waited a long\nwhile, but no one came. They lit a fire, and made themselves merry, as\nthey ate the cheese and drank the milk which was stored up round the\nsides of the cave.\n\nSuddenly they heard a great noise of heavy feet stamping on the ground.\nThey were so frightened that they ran inside the cave, and crouched down\nat the end of it. Nearer and nearer came the Cyclops, and his tread\nalmost made the earth shake. In he came, with many dry logs of wood on\nhis back; and in came all the sheep, which he milked every evening; but\nthe rams and the goats stayed outside. But if Ulysses and his men were\nafraid when they saw Polyphemus the Cyclops come in, they were much more\nafraid when he took up a great stone, which was almost as big as the\nmouth of the cave, and set it up against it for a door.\n\nThen the men whispered to Ulysses and said, \u201cDid we not beg and pray you\nnot to come into the cave? But you would not listen to us; and now how\nare we to get out again? Why, two-and-twenty wagons would not be able to\ntake away that huge stone from the mouth of the cave.\u201d They were shut in\nnow, and there was no use in thinking of their folly for coming in.\n\nSo there they lay, crouching in the corner of the cave, and trembling\nwith fear lest Polyphemus should see them. But the Cyclops went on\nmilking the sheep, then he put the milk into the bowls round the sides\nof the cave, and lit the fire to cook his meal. As the flames shot up\nfrom the burning wood to the roof of the cave, it showed him the forms\nof Ulysses and his companions, where they lay huddled together in the\ncorner. He cried out to them with a loud voice, \u201cWho are you that dare to\ncome into the cave of Polyphemus? Are you come to rob me of my sheep, or\nmy cheese and milk that I keep here?\u201d\n\nThen Ulysses said, \u201cNo; we are not come to do you harm: we are Greeks,\nwho have been fighting at Troy to bring back Helen whom Paris stole\naway from Sparta, and we went there with the great king Agamemnon, whom\neverybody knows. We are on our way home to Ithaca; but Neptune sent a\ngreat storm, because Minerva was angry with me; and almost all our ships\nhave been sunk in the sea, or broken to pieces on the rocks.\u201d\n\nWhen he had finished speaking, Polyphemus frowned savagely and said, \u201cI\nknow nothing of Agamemnon, or Paris, or Helen;\u201d and he seized two of the\nmen, and broke their heads against the stones, and cooked them for his\ndinner.\n\nThat day Polyphemus ate a huge meal, and drank several bowls full of\nmilk; and after that he fell fast asleep. As he lay there snoring in\nhis heavy sleep, Ulysses thought how easy it would be to plunge the\nsword into his breast, and kill him. He was just going to do it, when he\nthought of the great stone which Polyphemus had placed at the mouth of\nthe cave; and he knew that if Polyphemus were killed no one else could\nmove away the stone, and so they would all die shut up in that dismal\nplace.\n\nSo the hours of the night went wearily on. Neither Ulysses nor his\nfriends could sleep, for they thought of the men whom Polyphemus had\neaten, and how they would very likely be eaten up themselves. At last\nthey could tell, from the dim light which came in between the top of\nthe stone and the roof of the cave, that the morning was come. Soon\nPolyphemus awoke and milked all the sheep again. When he had done this,\nhe went to the end of the cave, and took up two more men and killed and\nate them. Then he took down the great stone from the mouth of the cave,\nand drove all the cattle out to graze on the soft grass on the hills;\nand Ulysses began to hope that they might be able to get away before\nPolyphemus came back. But the Cyclops was not so silly as to let them go,\nfor, as soon as the cattle were gone out, he took up the huge stone again\nas easily as if it had been a pebble, and put it up against the mouth of\nthe cave; and there were Ulysses and his friends shut up again as fast as\never.\n\nThen Ulysses began to think more and more how they were to get away, for\nif they stayed there they would soon be all killed, if Polyphemus went\non eating four of them every day. At last, near the sheepfold, he saw\na club which Polyphemus was going to use as a walking-stick. It was the\nwhole trunk of an olive-tree, fresh and green, for he had only just cut\nit and left it to dry, that he might carry it about when it was fit for\nuse. There it lay like the mast of a ship, which twenty men could hardly\nhave lifted. Ulysses cut off a bit from the end, as much as a man could\ncarry, and told the men to bring it to a very sharp point; and when they\nhad done this he hardened it in the fire, and then hid it away till\nPolyphemus should come home.\n\nBy and by, when the sun was sinking, they heard the terrible tramp of\nhis feet and felt the earth shake beneath his tread. The great stone was\ntaken away from the mouth of the cave, and in he came, driving the sheep\nand goats and the rams also before him, for this time he let nothing\nstay outside. He milked the sheep and the goats, as he had done the day\nbefore; and then killed two more men, and began to eat them for his\nsupper.\n\nThen Ulysses went towards him with a bottle full of wine, and said,\n\u201cDrink this wine, Polyphemus; it will make your supper taste much nicer;\nI have brought it to you because I want you to do me some kindness in\nreturn.\u201d So the Cyclops stretched out his hand to take the wine, and\nhe drank it off greedily and asked for more. \u201cGive me more of this\nhoney-sweet wine,\u201d he said; \u201csurely no grapes on this earth could ever\ngive such wine as this: tell me your name, for I should like to do you a\nkindness for giving me such wine as this.\u201d Then Ulysses said, \u201cO Cyclops,\nI hope you will not forget to give me what you have promised: my name is\nNobody.\u201d And Polyphemus said, \u201cVery well, I shall eat up Nobody last of\nall, when I have eaten up all his companions; and this is the kindness\nwhich I mean to do for him.\u201d By this time he was so stupid with all he\nhad been eating and drinking, that he could say no more, but fell on his\nback fast asleep; and his heavy snoring sounded through the whole of the\ncave.\n\nThen Ulysses cried to his friends, \u201cNow is the time; come and help me,\nand we will punish this Cyclops for all that he has done.\u201d So he took the\npiece of the olive-tree, which had been made sharp, and put it into the\nfire, till it almost burst into a flame, and he and two of his men went\nand stood over Polyphemus, and pushed the burning wood into his great eye\nas hard and as far down as they could. It was a terrible sight to see;\nbut the Cyclops was so stupid and heavy in sleep that at first he could\nscarcely stir. Presently he gave a great groan, so that Ulysses and his\npeople started back in a fright, and crouched down at the end of the\ncave: and then the Cyclops put out his hand, drew the burning wood from\nhis eye, and threw it from him in a rage, and roared out for help to his\nfriends, who lived on the hills round about.\n\nHis roar was as deep and loud as the roar of twenty lions; and the other\nCyclopes wondered when they heard him shouting out so loud, and they\nsaid, \u201cWhat can be the matter with Polyphemus? We never heard him make\nsuch a noise before: let us go and see if he wants any help.\u201d So they\nwent to the cave, and stood outside the great stone which shut it in,\nlistening to his terrible bellowings; and when they did not stop they\nshouted to him, and asked him what was the matter. \u201cWhy have you waked us\nup in the middle of the night with all this noise, when we were sleeping\ncomfortably? Is any one taking away your sheep and goats, or killing you\nby craft and force?\u201d\n\nAnd Polyphemus said, \u201cNobody, my friends, is killing me by craft and\nforce.\u201d\n\nWhen the others heard this they were angry, and said, \u201cWell, then, if\nnobody is killing you, why do you roar so? If you are ill, you must bear\nit as best you can, and ask our father Neptune to make you well again;\u201d\nand then they walked off to their beds, and left Polyphemus to make as\nmuch noise as he pleased.\n\nIt was of no use that he went on shouting. No one came to him any more;\nand Ulysses laughed because he had tricked him so cunningly by calling\nhimself Nobody. Polyphemus got up at last, moaning and groaning with the\ndreadful pain, and groped his way with his hands against the sides of\nthe cave until he came to the door. Then he took down the great stone,\nand sat with his arms stretched out wide; and he said to himself, \u201cNow I\nshall be sure to catch them, for no one can get out without passing me.\u201d\n\nBut Ulysses was too clever for him yet; for he went quietly, and fastened\nthe great rams of Polyphemus together with long bands of willow. He tied\nthem together by threes, and under the stomach of the middle one he tied\none of his men, until he had fastened them all up safely. Then he went\nand caught hold of the largest ram of all, and clung on with his hands\nto the thick wool underneath his stomach; and so they waited in a great\nfright, lest after all the giant might catch and kill them.\n\nAt last the pale light of the morning came into the eastern sky, and very\nsoon the sheep and the goats began to go out of the cave. Polyphemus\npassed his hands over the backs of all the sheep as they went by, but he\ndid not feel the willow bands, because their wool was long and thick,\nand he never thought that any one would be tied up underneath their\nstomachs. Last of all came the great ram to which Ulysses was clinging.\nWhen Polyphemus passed his hand over his back, he stroked him gently and\nsaid, \u201cIs there something the matter with you too, as there is with your\nmaster? You were always the first to go out of the cave, and now to-day\nfor the first time you are the last. I am sure that that horrible Nobody\nis at the bottom of all this. Ah, old ram, perhaps it is that you are\nsorry for your master, whose eye Nobody has put out. I wish you could\nspeak like a man, and tell me where he is. If I could but catch him, I\nwould take care that he never got away again, and then I should have some\ncomfort for all the evil which Nobody has done me.\u201d So he sent the ram\non; and when he had gone a little way from the cave, Ulysses got up from\nunder the ram, and went and untied all his friends, and very glad they\nwere to be free once more, although they could not help grieving, when\nthey thought of the men whom Polyphemus had killed. But Ulysses told them\nto make haste and drive as many of the sheep and goats as they could to\nthe ships. So they drove them down to the shore and hurried them into\nthe ships, and began to row away; and soon they would have been out of\nthe reach of the Cyclops, if Ulysses could only have held his tongue.\n\nHe was so angry himself, that he thought he would like to make Polyphemus\nstill more angry; so he shouted to him, \u201cCruel Cyclops, did you think\nthat you would not be punished for eating up my friends? Is this the way\nin which you receive strangers who have been tossed about by many storms\nupon the sea?\u201d\n\nThen Polyphemus was more furious than ever, and he broke off a great\nrock from the mountain, and hurled it at Ulysses. On it came whizzing\nthrough the air, and fell just in front of his ship, and the water was\ndashed up all over it; and there was a great heaving of the sea, which\nalmost carried them back to the land. They began to row again with all\ntheir might; but still, when they had got about twice as far as they\nwere before, Ulysses could not help shouting out a few more words to\nPolyphemus. So he said, \u201cIf any one asks you how you lost your eye,\nremember, mighty Cyclops, to say that you were made blind by Ulysses, the\nplunderer of cities, the son of Laertes, who lives in Ithaca.\u201d\n\nTerrible indeed was the fury of Polyphemus when he heard this, and he\nsaid: \u201cNow I remember how the wise Telemus used to tell me that a man\nwould come here named Ulysses, who would put my eye out. But I thought\nhe would have been some great strong man, almost as big as myself; and\nthis is a miserable little wretch, whom I could almost hold in my hand\nif I caught him. But stay, and I will show you how I thank you for your\nkindness, and I will ask my father Neptune to send you a pleasant storm\nto toss you about upon the dark sea.\u201d\n\nThen Polyphemus took up a bigger rock than ever, and hurled it high into\nthe air with all his might. But this time it fell just behind the ship\nof Ulysses: up rose the water and drenched Ulysses and all his people,\nand almost sank the ship under the sea. But it only sent them further out\nof the reach of the Cyclops; and though he hurled more rocks after them,\nthey now fell far behind in the sea, and did them no harm.\n\nEven when they had rowed a long way, they could still see Polyphemus\nstanding on the high cliff, and shaking his hands at them in rage and\npain. But no one came to help him for all his shouting because he had\ntold his friends that Nobody was doing him harm.\n\n\n\n\nCIRCE\u2019S PALACE\n\nBy Nathaniel Hawthorne\n\n\nAt one time in the course of his weary voyage, Ulysses arrived at an\nisland that looked very green and pleasant, but the name of which was\nunknown to him. For, only a little while before he came thither, he had\nmet with a terrible hurricane, or rather a great many hurricanes at once,\nwhich drove his fleet of vessels into a strange part of the sea, where\nneither himself nor any of his mariners had ever sailed.\n\nThis misfortune was entirely owing to the foolish curiosity of his\nshipmates, who, while Ulysses lay asleep, had untied some very bulky\nleathern bags, in which they supposed a valuable treasure to be\nconcealed. But in each of these stout bags, King \u00c6olus, the ruler of the\nwinds, had tied up a tempest and had given it to Ulysses to keep, in\norder that he might be sure of a favorable passage homeward to Ithaca;\nand when the strings were loosened, forth rushed the whistling blasts,\nlike air out of a blown bladder, whitening the sea with foam, and\nscattering the vessels nobody could tell whither.\n\nImmediately after escaping from this peril, a still greater one had\nbefallen him. Scudding before the hurricane, he reached a place, which,\nas he afterwards found, was called L\u00e6strygonia, where some monstrous\ngiants had eaten up many of his companions and had sunk every one of his\nvessels, except that in which he himself sailed, by flinging great masses\nof rock at them from the cliffs along the shore. After going through\nsuch troubles as these, you cannot wonder that King Ulysses was glad to\nmoor his tempest-beaten bark in a quiet cove of the green island, which\nI began with telling you about. But he had encountered so many dangers\nfrom giants, and one-eyed Cyclopes, and monsters of the sea and land,\nthat he could not help dreading some mischief, even in this pleasant and\nseemingly solitary spot. For two days, therefore, the poor weather-worn\nvoyagers kept quiet, and either stayed on board of their vessel, or\nmerely crept along under the cliffs that bordered the shore; and to keep\nthemselves alive, they dug shell-fish out of the sand, and sought for any\nlittle rill of fresh water that might be running towards the sea.\n\nBefore the two days were spent, they grew very weary of this kind of\nlife; for the followers of King Ulysses, as you will find it important\nto remember, were great eaters, and pretty sure to grumble if they\nmissed their regular meals, and their irregular ones besides. Their\nstock of provisions was quite exhausted, and even the shell-fish began\nto get scarce, so that they had now to choose between starving to\ndeath or venturing into the interior of the island, where perhaps some\nhuge three-headed dragon, or other horrible monster, had his den. Such\nmisshapen creatures were very numerous in those days; and nobody ever\nexpected to make a voyage, or take a journey, without running more or\nless risk of being devoured by them.\n\nBut King Ulysses was a bold man as well as a prudent one; and on the\nthird morning he determined to discover what sort of a place the island\nwas, and whether it were possible to obtain a supply of food for the\nhungry mouths of his companions. So, taking a spear in his hand, he\nclambered to the summit of a cliff, and gazed round about him. At a\ndistance, towards the center of the island, he beheld the stately towers\nof what seemed to be a palace, built of snow-white marble, and rising\nin the midst of a grove of lofty trees. The thick branches of these\ntrees stretched across the front of the edifice, and more than half\nconcealed it, although from the portion which he saw, Ulysses judged\nit to be spacious and exceedingly beautiful, and probably the residence\nof some great nobleman or prince. A blue smoke went curling up from the\nchimney, and was almost the pleasantest part of the spectacle to Ulysses.\nFor, from the abundance of this smoke, it was reasonable to conclude\nthat there was a good fire in the kitchen, and that, at dinner-time, a\nplentiful banquet would be served up to the inhabitants of the palace,\nand to whatever guests might happen to drop in.\n\nWith so agreeable a prospect before him, Ulysses fancied that he could\nnot do better than to go straight to the palace gate, and tell the master\nof it that there was a crew of poor shipwrecked mariners, not far off,\nwho had eaten nothing for a day or two, save a few clams and oysters, and\nwould therefore be thankful for a little food. And the prince or nobleman\nmust be a very stingy curmudgeon, to be sure, if at least, when his own\ndinner was over, he would not bid them welcome to the broken victuals\nfrom the table.\n\nPleasing himself with this idea, King Ulysses had made a few steps in the\ndirection of the palace, when there was a great twittering and chirping\nfrom the branch of a neighboring tree. A moment afterwards, a bird came\nflying towards him, and hovered in the air, so as almost to brush his\nface with its wings. It was a very pretty little bird, with purple wings\nand body, and yellow legs, and a circle of golden feathers round his\nneck, and on its head a golden tuft, which looked like a king\u2019s crown in\nminiature. Ulysses tried to catch the bird. But it fluttered nimbly out\nof his reach, still chirping in a piteous tone, as if it could have told\na lamentable story, had it only been gifted with human language. And when\nhe attempted to drive it away, the bird flew no farther than the bough of\nthe next tree, and again came fluttering about his head, with its doleful\nchirp, as soon as he showed a purpose of going forward.\n\n\u201cHave you anything to tell me, little bird?\u201d asked Ulysses.\n\nAnd he was ready to listen attentively to whatever the bird might\ncommunicate; for, at the siege of Troy, and elsewhere, he had known such\nodd things to happen, that he would not have considered it much out of\nthe common run had this little feathered creature talked as plainly as\nhimself.\n\n\u201cPeep!\u201d said the bird, \u201cpeep, peep, pe\u2014weep!\u201d And nothing else would it\nsay, but only, \u201cPeep, peep, pe\u2014weep!\u201d in a melancholy cadence, and over\nand over and over again. As often as Ulysses moved forward, however, the\nbird showed the greatest alarm, and did its best to drive him back, with\nthe anxious flutter of its purple wings. Its unaccountable behavior made\nhim conclude, at last, that the bird knew of some danger that awaited\nhim, and which must needs be very terrible, beyond all question, since\nit moved even a little fowl to feel compassion for a human being. So\nhe resolved, for the present, to return to the vessel, and tell his\ncompanions what he had seen.\n\nThis appeared to satisfy the bird. As soon as Ulysses turned back, it\nran up the trunk of a tree, and began to pick insects out of the bark\nwith its long, sharp bill; for it was a kind of woodpecker, you must\nknow, and had to get its living in the same manner as other birds of that\nspecies. But every little while, as it pecked at the bark of the tree,\nthe purple bird bethought itself of some secret sorrow, and repeated its\nplaintive note of \u201cPeep, peep, pe\u2014weep!\u201d\n\nOn his way to the shore, Ulysses had the good luck to kill a large stag\nby thrusting his spear into its back. Taking it on his shoulders (for\nhe was a remarkably strong man), he lugged it along with him and flung\nit down before his hungry companions. I have already hinted to you what\ngormandisers some of the comrades of King Ulysses were. From what is\nrelated of them, I reckon that their favorite diet was pork, and that\nthey had lived upon it until a good part of their physical substance was\nswine\u2019s flesh, and their tempers and dispositions were very much akin to\nthe hog. A dish of venison, however, was no unacceptable meal to them,\nespecially after feeding so long on oysters and clams. So, beholding the\ndead stag, they felt of its ribs, in a knowing way, and lost no time in\nkindling a fire of driftwood to cook it. The rest of the day was spent\nin feasting; and if these enormous eaters got up from table at sunset,\nit was only because they could not scrape another morsel off the poor\nanimal\u2019s bones.\n\nThe next morning their appetites were as sharp as ever. They looked at\nUlysses, as if they expected him to clamber up the cliff again, and come\nback with another fat deer upon his shoulders. Instead of setting out,\nhowever, he summoned the whole crew together, and told them it was in\nvain to hope that he could kill a stag every day for their dinner, and\ntherefore it was advisable to think of some other mode of satisfying\ntheir hunger.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said he, \u201cwhen I was on the cliff, yesterday, I discovered that\nthis island is inhabited. At a considerable distance from the shore stood\na marble palace, which appeared to be very spacious, and had a great deal\nof smoke curling out of one of its chimneys.\u201d\n\n\u201cAha!\u201d muttered some of his companions, smacking their lips. \u201cThat smoke\nmust have come from the kitchen fire. There was a good dinner on the\nspit; and no doubt there will be as good a one to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d continued the wise Ulysses, \u201cyou must remember, my good friends,\nour misadventure in the cavern of one-eyed Polyphemus, the Cyclops!\nInstead of his ordinary milk diet, did he not eat up two of our comrades\nfor his supper, and a couple more for breakfast, and two at his supper\nagain? Methinks I see him yet, the hideous monster, scanning us with\nthat great red eye, in the middle of his forehead, to single out the\nfattest. And then, again, only a few days ago did we not fall into the\nhands of the King of the L\u00e6strygons, and those other horrible giants, his\nsubjects, who devoured a great many more of us than are now left? To tell\nyou the truth, if we go to yonder palace, there can be no question that\nwe shall make our appearance at the dinner table; but whether seated as\nguests, or served up as food, is a point to be seriously considered.\u201d\n\n\u201cEither way,\u201d murmured some of the hungriest of the crew, \u201cit will be\nbetter than starvation; particularly if one could be sure of being well\nfattened beforehand, and daintily cooked afterwards.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is a matter of taste,\u201d said King Ulysses, \u201cand, for my own part,\nneither the most careful fattening nor the daintiest of cookery would\nreconcile me to being dished at last. My proposal is, therefore, that we\ndivide ourselves into two equal parties, and ascertain, by drawing lots,\nwhich of the two shall go to the palace, and beg for food and assistance.\nIf these can be obtained, all is well. If not, and if the inhabitants\nprove as inhospitable as Polyphemus, or the L\u00e6strygons, then there will\nbut half of us perish, and the remainder may set sail and escape.\u201d\n\nAs nobody objected to this scheme, Ulysses proceeded to count the whole\nband, and found that there were forty-six men, including himself. He\nthen numbered off twenty-two of them, and put Eurylochus (who was one\nof his chief officers, and second only to himself in sagacity) at their\nhead. Ulysses took command of the remaining twenty-two men, in person.\nThen, taking off his helmet, he put two shells into it, on one of which\nwas written \u201cGo,\u201d and on the other, \u201cStay.\u201d Another person now held the\nhelmet, while Ulysses and Eurylochus drew out each a shell; and the\nword \u201cGo,\u201d was found written on that which Eurylochus had drawn. In\nthis manner, it was decided that Ulysses and his twenty-two men were to\nremain at the seaside until the other party should have found out what\nsort of treatment they might expect at the mysterious palace. As there\nwas no help for it, Eurylochus immediately set forth at the head of his\ntwenty-two followers, who went off in a very melancholy state of mind,\nleaving their friends in hardly better spirits than themselves.\n\nNo sooner had they clambered up the cliff, than they discerned the tall\nmarble towers of the palace, ascending, as white as snow, out of the\nlovely green shadow of the trees which surrounded it. A gush of smoke\ncame from a chimney in the rear of the edifice. This vapor rose high in\nthe air, and meeting with a breeze, was wafted seaward and made to pass\nover the heads of the hungry mariners. When people\u2019s appetites are keen,\nthey have a very quick scent for anything savory in the wind.\n\n\u201cThat smoke comes from the kitchen!\u201d cried one of them, turning up his\nnose as high as he could, and snuffing eagerly. \u201cAnd, as sure as I\u2019m a\nhalf-starved vagabond, I smell roast meat in it.\u201d\n\n\u201cPig, roast pig!\u201d said another. \u201cAh, the dainty little porker! My mouth\nwaters for him.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us make haste,\u201d cried the others, \u201cor we shall be too late for the\ngood cheer!\u201d\n\nBut scarcely had they made half a dozen steps from the edge of the cliff,\nwhen a bird came fluttering to meet them. It was the same pretty little\nbird, with the purple wings and body, the yellow legs, the golden collar\nround its neck, and the crown-like tuft upon its head, whose behavior\nhad so much surprised Ulysses. It hovered about Eurylochus, and almost\nbrushed his face with its wings.\n\n\u201cPeep, peep, pe\u2014weep!\u201d chirped the bird.\n\nSo plaintively intelligent was the sound, that it seemed as if the\nlittle creature were going to break its heart with some mighty secret\nthat it had to tell, and only this one poor note to tell it with.\n\n\u201cMy pretty bird,\u201d said Eurylochus\u2014for he was a wary person, and let no\ntoken of harm escape his notice\u2014\u201cmy pretty bird, who sent you hither? And\nwhat is the message which you bring?\u201d\n\n\u201cPeep, peep, pe\u2014weep!\u201d replied the bird, very sorrowfully.\n\nThen it flew towards the edge of the cliff, and looked round at them,\nas if exceedingly anxious that they should return whence they came.\nEurylochus and a few of the others were inclined to turn back.\n\nThey could not help suspecting that the purple bird must be aware of\nsomething mischievous that would befall them at the palace, and the\nknowledge of which affected its airy spirit with a human sympathy and\nsorrow. But the rest of the voyagers, snuffing up the smoke from the\npalace kitchen, ridiculed the idea of returning to the vessel. One of\nthem (more brutal than his fellows, and the most notorious gormandiser\nin the whole crew) said such a cruel and wicked thing, that I wonder the\nmere thought did not turn him into a wild beast, in shape, as he already\nwas in his nature.\n\n\u201cThis troublesome and impertinent little fowl,\u201d said he, \u201cwould make a\ndelicate titbit to begin dinner with. Just one plump morsel, melting away\nbetween the teeth. If he comes within my reach, I\u2019ll catch him, and give\nhim to the palace cook to be roasted on a skewer.\u201d\n\nThe words were hardly out of his mouth, before the purple bird flew\naway, crying, \u201cPeep, peep, pe\u2014weep,\u201d more dolorously than ever.\n\n\u201cThat bird,\u201d remarked Eurylochus, \u201cknows more than we do about what\nawaits us at the palace.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome on, then,\u201d cried his comrades, \u201cand we\u2019ll soon know as much as he\ndoes.\u201d\n\nThe party, accordingly, went onward through the green and pleasant wood.\nEvery little while they caught new glimpses of the marble palace, which\nlooked more and more beautiful the nearer they approached it. They soon\nentered a broad pathway, which seemed to be very neatly kept, and which\nwent winding along, with streaks of sunshine falling across it, and\nspecks of light quivering among the deepest shadows that fell from the\nlofty trees.\n\nIt was bordered, too, with a great many sweet-smelling flowers, such as\nthe mariners had never seen before. So rich and beautiful they were,\nthat if the shrubs grew wild here, and were native in the soil, then\nthis island was surely the flower garden of the whole earth; or, if\ntransplanted from some other clime, it must have been from the happy\nislands that lay towards the golden sunset.\n\n\u201cThere has been a great deal of pains foolishly wasted on these flowers,\u201d\nobserved one of the company; and I tell you what he said, that you may\nkeep in mind what gormandisers they were. \u201cFor my part, if I were the\nowner of the palace, I would bid my gardener cultivate nothing but savory\npot herbs to make a stuffing for roast meat, or to flavor a stew with.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell said!\u201d cried the others. \u201cBut I\u2019ll warrant you there\u2019s a kitchen\ngarden in the rear of the palace.\u201d\n\nAt one place they came to a crystal spring, and paused to drink at it\nfor want of liquor which they liked better. Looking into its bosom, they\nbeheld their own faces dimly reflected, but so extravagantly distorted\nby the gush and motion of the water, that each one of them appeared to\nbe laughing at himself and all his companions. So ridiculous were these\nimages of themselves, indeed, that they did really laugh aloud, and could\nhardly be grave again as soon as they wished. And after they had drank,\nthey grew still merrier than before.\n\n\u201cIt has a twang of the wine cask in it,\u201d said one, smacking his lips.\n\n\u201cMake haste!\u201d cried his fellows; \u201cwe\u2019ll find the wine cask itself at the\npalace; and that will be better than a hundred crystal fountains.\u201d\n\nThey then quickened their pace, and capered for joy at the thought of the\nsavory banquet at which they hoped to be guests. But Eurylochus told them\nthat he felt as if he were walking in a dream.\n\n\u201cIf I am really awake,\u201d continued he, \u201cthen, in my opinion, we are on the\npoint of meeting with some stranger adventure than any that befell us\nin the cave of Polyphemus, or among the gigantic man-eating L\u00e6strygons,\nor in the windy palace of King \u00c6olus, which stands on a brazen-walled\nisland. This kind of dreamy feeling always comes over me before any\nwonderful occurrence. If you take my advice, you will turn back.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d answered his comrades, snuffing the air, in which the scent\nfrom the palace kitchen was now very perceptible. \u201cWe would not turn\nback, though we were certain that the King of the L\u00e6strygons, as big as\na mountain, would sit at the head of the table, and huge Polyphemus, the\none-eyed Cyclops, at its foot.\u201d\n\nAt length they came within full sight of the palace, which proved to\nbe very large and lofty, with a great number of airy pinnacles upon\nits roof. Though it was now midday, and the sun shone brightly over\nthe marble front, yet its snowy whiteness and its fantastic style of\narchitecture made it look unreal, like the frostwork on a window pane, or\nlike the shapes of castles which one sees among the clouds by moonlight.\nBut, just then, a puff of wind brought down the smoke of the kitchen\nchimney among them, and caused each man to smell the odor of the dish\nthat he liked best; and, after scenting it, they thought everything else\nmoonshine and nothing real save this palace, and save the banquet that\nwas evidently ready to be served up in it.\n\nSo they hastened their steps towards the portal, but had not got half-way\nacross the wide lawn when a pack of lions, tigers, and wolves came\nbounding to meet them. The terrified mariners started back, expecting no\nbetter fate than to be torn to pieces and devoured. To their surprise\nand joy, however, these wild beasts merely capered around them, wagging\ntheir tails, offering their heads to be stroked and patted, and behaving\njust like so many well-bred house dogs, when they wish to express their\ndelight at meeting their master or their master\u2019s friends. The biggest\nlion licked the feet of Eurylochus; and every other lion, and every wolf\nand tiger, singled out one of his two and twenty followers, whom the\nbeast fondled as if he loved him better than a beef bone.\n\nBut, for all that, Eurylochus imagined that he saw something fierce and\nsavage in their eyes; nor would he have been surprised, at any moment,\nto feel the big lion\u2019s terrible claws, or to see each of the tigers make\na deadly spring, or each wolf leap at the throat of the man whom he had\nfondled. Their mildness seemed unreal and a mere freak; but their savage\nnature was as true as their teeth and claws.\n\nNevertheless, the men went safely across the lawn with the wild beasts\nfrisking about them and doing no manner of harm; although, as they\nmounted the steps of the palace, you might possibly have heard a low\ngrowl, particularly from the wolves; as if they thought it a pity, after\nall, to let the strangers pass without so much as tasting what they were\nmade of.\n\nEurylochus and his followers now passed under a lofty portal, and looked\nthrough the open doorway into the interior of the palace. The first thing\nthat they saw was a spacious hall, and a fountain in the middle of it\ngushing up towards the ceiling out of a marble basin, and falling back\ninto it with a continual plash. The water of this fountain, as it spouted\nupward, was constantly taking new shapes, not very distinctly but plainly\nenough for a nimble fancy to recognize what they were. Now it was the\nshape of a man in a long robe, the fleecy whiteness of which was made out\nof the fountain\u2019s spray; now it was a lion, or a tiger, or a wolf, or an\nass, or, as often as anything else, a hog, wallowing in the marble basin\nas if it were his sty. It was either magic or some very curious machinery\nthat caused the gushing waterspout to assume all these forms. But, before\nthe strangers had time to look closely at this wonderful sight, their\nattention was drawn off by a very sweet and agreeable sound. A woman\u2019s\nvoice was singing melodiously in another room of the palace, and with\nher voice was mingled the noise of a loom, at which she was probably\nseated, weaving a rich texture of cloth, and intertwining the high and\nlow sweetness of her voice into a rich tissue of harmony.\n\nBy and by, the song came to an end; and then, all at once, there were\nseveral feminine voices talking airily and cheerfully, with now and then\na merry burst of laughter such as you may always hear when three or four\nyoung women sit at work together.\n\n\u201cJust listen to the pleasant voices of those maidens, and that buzz of\nthe loom, as the shuttle passes to and fro,\u201d said another comrade. \u201cWhat\na domestic, household, home-like sound it is! Ah before that weary siege\nof Troy, I used to hear the buzzing loom and the women\u2019s voices under\nmy own roof. Shall I never hear them again? nor taste those nice little\nsavory dishes which my dearest wife knew how to serve up?\u201d\n\n\u201cTush! we shall fare better here,\u201d said another. \u201cBut how innocently\nthose women are babbling together, without guessing that we overhear\nthem! And mark that richest voice of all, so pleasant and familiar,\nbut which yet seems to have the authority of a mistress among them. Let\nus show ourselves at once. What harm can the lady of the palace and her\nmaidens do to mariners and warriors like us?\u201d\n\n\u201cRemember,\u201d said Eurylochus, \u201cthat it was a young maiden who beguiled\nthree of our friends into the palace of the King of the L\u00e6strygons, who\nate up one of them in the twinkling of an eye.\u201d\n\nNo warning or persuasion, however, had any effect on his companions.\nThey went up to a pair of folding doors at the farther end of the hall,\nand throwing them wide open, passed into the next room. Eurylochus,\nmeanwhile, had stepped behind a pillar. In a short moment while the\nfolding doors opened and closed again, he caught a glimpse of a very\nbeautiful woman rising from the loom, and coming to meet the poor\nweather-beaten wanderers, with a hospitable smile, and her hand stretched\nout in welcome. There were four other young women, who joined their\nhands and danced merrily forward, making gestures of obeisance to the\nstrangers. They were only less beautiful than the lady who seemed to be\ntheir mistress. Yet Eurylochus fancied that one of them had sea-green\nhair, and that the close-fitting bodice of a second looked like the hark\nof a tree, and that both the others had something odd in their aspect,\nalthough he could not quite determine what it was, in the little while\nthat he had to examine them.\n\nThe folding doors swung quickly back, and left him standing behind the\npillar, in the solitude of the outer hall. There Eurylochus waited until\nhe was quite weary, and listened eagerly to every sound, but without\nhearing anything that could help him to guess what had become of his\nfriends. Footsteps, it is true, seemed to be passing and repassing in\nother parts of the palace. Then there was a clatter of silver dishes, or\ngolden ones, which made him imagine a rich feast in a splendid banqueting\nhall. But by and by he heard a tremendous grunting and squealing, and\nthen a sudden scampering like that of small hard hoofs over a marble\nfloor, while the voices of the mistress and her four hand-maidens were\nscreaming all together, in tones of anger and derision. Eurylochus could\nnot conceive what had happened, unless a drove of swine had broken into\nthe palace, attracted by the smell of the feast. Chancing to cast his\neyes at the fountain, he saw that it did not shift its shape as formerly,\nnor looked either like a long-robed man, or a lion, a tiger, a wolf, or\nan ass. It looked like nothing but a hog, which lay wallowing in the\nmarble basin, and filled it from brim to brim.\n\nBut we must leave the prudent Eurylochus waiting in the outer hall, and\nfollow his friends into the inner secrecy of the palace. As soon as the\nbeautiful woman saw them, she arose from the loom, as I have told you,\nand came forward, smiling, and stretching out her hand. She took the hand\nof the foremost among them, and bade him and the whole party welcome.\n\n\u201cYou have been long expected, my good friends,\u201d said she. \u201cI and my\nmaidens are well acquainted with you, although you do not appear to\nrecognize us. Look at this piece of tapestry, and judge if your faces\nmust not have been familiar to us.\u201d\n\nSo the voyagers examined the web of cloth which the beautiful woman had\nbeen weaving in her loom; and, to their vast astonishment, they saw their\nown figures perfectly represented in different colored threads. It was a\nlife-like picture of their recent adventures, showing them in the cave\nof Polyphemus, and how they had put out his one great moon-eye; while\nin another part of the tapestry they were untying the leathern bags,\npuffed out with contrary winds; and farther on, they beheld themselves\nscampering away from the gigantic King of the L\u00e6strygons, who had caught\none of them by the leg. Lastly, there they were, sitting on the desolate\nshore of this very island, hungry and downcast, and looking ruefully at\nthe bare bones of the stag which they devoured yesterday. This was as far\nas the work had yet proceeded; but when the beautiful woman should again\nsit down at her loom, she would probably make a picture of what had since\nhappened to the strangers, and of what was now going to happen.\n\n\u201cYou see,\u201d she said, \u201cthat I know all about your troubles; and you cannot\ndoubt that I desire to make you happy for as long a time as you may\nremain with me. For this purpose, my honored guests, I have ordered a\nbanquet to be prepared. Fish, fowl, and flesh, roasted and in luscious\nstews, and seasoned, I trust, to all your tastes, are ready to be served\nup. If your appetites tell you it is dinner-time, then come with me to\nthe festal saloon.\u201d\n\nAt this kind invitation, the hungry mariners were quite overjoyed;\nand one of them, taking upon himself to be spokesman, assured their\nhospitable hostess that any hour of the day was dinner-time with them,\nwhenever they could get flesh to put in the pot, and fire to boil it\nwith. So the beautiful woman led the way; and the four maidens (one of\nthem had sea-green hair, another a bodice of oak-bark, a third sprinkled\na shower of water drops from her fingers\u2019 ends, and the fourth had some\nother oddity, which I have forgotten), all these followed behind, and\nhurried the guests along, until they entered a magnificent saloon. It was\nbuilt in a perfect oval, and lighted from a crystal dome above. Around\nthe walls were ranged two and twenty thrones, overhung by canopies of\ncrimson and gold, and provided with the softest of cushions which were\ntasselled and fringed with gold cord. Each of the strangers was invited\nto sit down; and there they were, two and twenty storm-beaten mariners in\nworn and tattered garb, sitting on two and twenty cushioned and canopied\nthrones, so rich and gorgeous that the proudest monarch had nothing more\nsplendid in his stateliest hall.\n\nThen you might have seen the guests nodding, winking with one eye, and\nleaning from one throne to another, to communicate their satisfaction in\nhoarse whispers.\n\n\u201cOur good hostess has made kings of us all,\u201d said one. \u201cHa! do you smell\nthe feast? I\u2019ll engage it will be fit to set before two and twenty kings.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope,\u201d said another, \u201cit will be mainly good substantial joints,\nsirloins, spareribs, and hinder quarters, without too many kickshaws. If\nI thought the good lady would not take it amiss, I should call for a fat\nslice of dried bacon to begin with.\u201d\n\nAh, the gluttons and gormandisers! You see how it was with them. In the\nloftiest seats of dignity, on royal thrones, they could think of nothing\nbut their greedy appetite, which was the portion of their nature that\nthey shared with wolves and swine; so that they resembled those vilest\nof animals far more than they did kings\u2014if, indeed, kings were what they\nought to be.\n\nBut the beautiful woman now clapped her hands; and immediately there\nentered a train of two and twenty serving men, bringing dishes of the\nrichest food, all hot from the kitchen fire, and sending up such a steam\nthat it hung like a cloud below the crystal dome of the saloon. An equal\nnumber of attendants brought great flagons of wine, of various kinds,\nsome of which sparkled as it was poured out, and went bubbling down the\nthroat; while, of other sorts, the purple liquor was so clear that you\ncould see the wrought figures at the bottom of the goblet. While the\nservants supplied the two and twenty guests with food and drink, the\nhostess and her four maidens went from one throne to another, exhorting\nthem to eat their fill, and to quaff wine abundantly, and thus to\nrecompense themselves, at this one banquet, for the many days when they\nhad gone without a dinner. But, whenever the mariners were not looking\nat them (which was pretty often, as they looked chiefly into the basins\nand platters), the beautiful woman and her damsels turned aside, and\nlaughed. Even the servants, as they knelt down to present the dishes,\nmight be seen to grin and sneer, while the guests were helping themselves\nto the offered dainties.\n\nAnd, once in a while, the strangers seemed to taste something that they\ndid not like.\n\n\u201cHere is an odd kind of a spice in this dish,\u201d said one. \u201cI can\u2019t say it\nquite suits my palate. Down it goes, however.\u201d\n\n\u201cSend a good draught of wine down your throat,\u201d said his comrade on the\nnext throne. \u201cThat is the stuff to make this sort of cookery relish well.\nThough I must needs say, the wine has a queer taste, too. But the more I\ndrink of it, the better I like the flavor.\u201d\n\nWhatever little fault they might find with the dishes, they sat at dinner\na prodigiously long while; and it would really have made you ashamed to\nsee how they swilled down the liquor and gobbled up the food.\n\nThey sat on golden thrones, to be sure, but they behaved like pigs in a\nsty; and, if they had had their wits about them, they might have guessed\nthat this was the opinion of their beautiful hostess and her maidens. It\nbrings a blush into my face to reckon up, in my own mind, what mountains\nof meat and pudding, and what gallons of wine these two and twenty\nguzzlers and gormandisers ate and drank. They forgot all about their\nhomes and their wives and children, and all about Ulysses, and everything\nelse, except this banquet at which they wanted to keep feasting for ever.\nBut at length they began to give over from mere incapacity to hold any\nmore.\n\n\u201cThat last bit of fat is too much for me,\u201d said one.\n\n\u201cAnd I have not room for another morsel,\u201d said his next neighbor, heaving\na sigh. \u201cWhat a pity! My appetite is as sharp as ever.\u201d\n\nIn short, they all left off eating and leaned back on their thrones, with\nsuch a stupid and helpless aspect, as made them ridiculous to behold.\nWhen their hostess saw this, she laughed aloud; so did her four damsels;\nso did the two and twenty serving men that bore the dishes, and their\ntwo and twenty fellows that poured out the wine. And the louder they all\nlaughed, the more stupid and helpless did the two and twenty gormandisers\nlook. Then the beautiful woman took her stand in the middle of the\nsaloon, and stretching out a slender rod (it had been all the while in\nher hand, although they never noticed it till this moment), she turned\nit from one guest to another, until each had felt it pointed at himself.\nBeautiful as her face was, and though there was a smile on it, it looked\njust as wicked and mischievous as the ugliest serpent that ever was seen;\nand fat-witted as the voyagers had made themselves, they began to suspect\nthat they had fallen into the power of an evil-minded enchantress.\n\n\u201cWretches,\u201d cried she, \u201cyou have abused a lady\u2019s hospitality; and in\nthis princely saloon your behavior has been suited to a hog-pen. You\nare already swine in everything but the human form, which you disgrace,\nand which I myself should be ashamed to keep a moment longer were you\nto share it with me. But it will require only the slightest exercise of\nmagic to make the exterior conform to the hoggish disposition. Assume\nyour proper shapes, gormandisers, and begone to the sty!\u201d\n\nUttering these last words, she waved her wand; and stamping her foot\nimperiously, each of the guests was struck aghast at beholding, instead\nof his comrades in human shape, one and twenty hogs sitting on the same\nnumber of golden thrones. Each man (as he still supposed himself to be)\nessayed to give a cry of surprise but found that he could merely grunt,\nand that, in a word, he was just such another beast as his companions.\nIt looked so intolerably absurd to see hogs on cushioned thrones, that\nthey made haste to wallow down upon all fours like other swine. They\ntried to groan and beg for mercy, but forthwith emitted the most awful\ngrunting and squealing that ever came out of swinish throats. They would\nhave wrung their hands in despair, but, attempting to do so, grew all the\nmore desperate for seeing themselves squatted on their hams and pawing\nthe air with their fore-trotters. Dear me! what pendulous ears they had!\nwhat little red eyes, half buried in fat! and what long snouts, instead\nof Grecian noses!\n\nBut brutes as they certainly were, they yet had enough of human nature\nin them to be shocked at their own hideousness; and, still intending to\ngroan, they uttered a viler grunt and squeal than before. So harsh and\near-piercing it was, that you would have fancied a butcher was sticking\nhis knife into each of their throats, or, at the very least, that\nsomebody was pulling every hog by his funny little twist of a tail.\n\n\u201cBegone to your sty!\u201d cried the enchantress, giving them some smart\nstrokes with her wand; and then she turned to the serving men\u2014\u201cDrive out\nthese swine, and throw down some acorns for them to eat.\u201d\n\nThe door of the saloon being flung open, the drove of hogs ran in\nall directions save the right one, in accordance with their hoggish\nperversity, but were finally driven into the back yard of the palace. It\nwas a sight to bring tears into one\u2019s eyes (and I hope none of you will\nbe cruel enough to laugh at it), to see the poor creatures go snuffing\nalong, picking up here a cabbage-leaf, and there a turnip-top, and\nrooting their noses in the earth for whatever they could find. In their\nsty, moreover, they behaved more piggishly than the pigs that had been\nborn so; for they bit and snorted at one another, put their feet in the\ntrough, and gobbled up their victuals in a ridiculous hurry; and, when\nthere was nothing more to be had, they made a great pile of themselves\namong some unclean straw, and fell fast asleep. If they had any human\nreason left, it was just enough to keep them wondering when they should\nbe slaughtered, and what quality of bacon they should make.\n\nMeantime, as I told you before, Eurylochus had waited, and waited,\nand waited in the entrance hall of the palace, without being able to\ncomprehend what had befallen his friends. At last, when the swinish\nuproar resounded through the palace, and when he saw the image of a hog\nin the marble basin, he thought it best to hasten back to the vessel, and\ninform the wise Ulysses of these marvellous occurrences.\n\nSo he ran as fast as he could down the steps, and never stopped to draw\nbreath till he reached the shore.\n\n\u201cWhy do you come alone?\u201d asked King Ulysses as soon as he saw him. \u201cWhere\nare your two and twenty comrades?\u201d\n\nAt these questions, Eurylochus burst into tears.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d cried he, \u201cI greatly fear that we shall never see one of their\nfaces again.\u201d\n\nThen he told Ulysses all that had happened, as far as he knew it, and\nadded that he suspected the beautiful woman to be a vile enchantress, and\nthe marble palace, magnificent as it looked, to be only a dismal cavern\nin reality. As for his companions, he could not imagine what had become\nof them, unless they had been given to the swine to be devoured alive. At\nthis intelligence, all the voyagers were greatly affrighted. But Ulysses\nlost no time in girding on his sword, and hanging his bow and quiver over\nhis shoulders, and taking a spear in his right hand. When his followers\nsaw their wise leader making these preparations, they inquired whither he\nwas going, and earnestly besought him not to leave them.\n\n\u201cYou are our king,\u201d cried they; \u201cand what is more, you are the wisest man\nin the whole world, and nothing but your wisdom and courage can get us\nout of this danger. If you desert us, and go to the enchanted palace, you\nwill suffer the same fate as our poor companions, and not a soul of us\nwill ever see our dear Ithaca again.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs I am your king,\u201d answered Ulysses, \u201cand wiser than any of you, it is\ntherefore the more my duty to see what has befallen our comrades, and\nwhether anything can yet be done to rescue them. Wait for me here until\nto-morrow. If I do not then return, you must hoist sail, and endeavor\nto find your way to our native land. For my part, I am answerable for\nthe fate of these poor mariners, who have stood by my side in battle,\nand been so often drenched to the skin, along with me, by the same\ntempestuous surges. I will either bring them back with me, or perish.\u201d\n\nHad his followers dared, they would have detained him by force. But King\nUlysses frowned sternly on them, and shook his spear, and bade them stop\nhim at their peril.\n\nSeeing him so determined, they let him go, and sat down on the sand, as\ndisconsolate a set of people as could be, waiting and praying for his\nreturn.\n\nIt happened to Ulysses, just as before, that, when he had gone a few\nsteps from the edge of the cliff, the purple bird came fluttering towards\nhim, crying, \u201cPeep, peep, pe\u2014weep!\u201d and using all the art it could to\npersuade him to go no farther.\n\n\u201cWhat mean you, little bird?\u201d cried Ulysses. \u201cYou are arrayed like a king\nin purple and gold, and wear a golden crown upon your head. Is it because\nI, too, am a king, that you desire so earnestly to speak with me? If you\ncan talk in human language, say what you would have me do.\u201d\n\n\u201cPeep!\u201d answered the purple bird, very dolorously. \u201cPeep, peep, pe\u2014we\u2014ep!\u201d\n\nCertainly there lay some heavy anguish at the little bird\u2019s heart; and\nit was a sorrowful predicament that he could not, at least, have the\nconsolation of telling what it was. But Ulysses had no time to waste\nin trying to get at the mystery. He therefore quickened his pace, and\nhad gone a good way along the pleasant wood path, when there met him a\nyoung man of very brisk and intelligent aspect, and clad in a rather\nsingular garb. He wore a short cloak, and a sort of cap that seemed to\nbe furnished with a pair of wings; and from the lightness of his step,\nyou would have supposed that there might likewise be wings on his feet.\nTo enable him to walk still better (for he was always on one journey\nor another), he carried a winged staff, around which two serpents were\nwriggling and twisting.\n\nIn short, I have said enough to make you guess that it was Quicksilver;\nand Ulysses (who knew him of old, and had learned a great deal of his\nwisdom from him) recognized him in a moment.\n\n\u201cWhither are you going in such a hurry, wise Ulysses?\u201d asked Quicksilver.\n\u201cDo you not know that this island is enchanted? The wicked enchantress\n(whose name is Circe, the sister of King \u00c6etes) dwells in the marble\npalace which you see yonder among the trees. By her magic arts, she\nchanges every human being into the brute beast or fowl whom he happens\nmost to resemble.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat little bird, which met me at the edge of the cliff,\u201d exclaimed\nUlysses, \u201cwas he a human being once?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered Quicksilver. \u201cHe was once a king, named Picus, and a\npretty good sort of a king, too, only rather too proud of his purple\nrobe, and his crown, and the golden chain about his neck; so he was\nforced to take the shape of a gaudy feathered bird. The lions, and\nwolves, and tigers, who will come running to meet you, in front of\nthe palace, were formerly fierce and cruel men, resembling in their\ndisposition the wild beasts whose forms they now rightfully wear.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd my poor companions,\u201d said Ulysses. \u201cHave they undergone a similar\nchange, through the arts of this wicked Circe?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou well know what gormandisers they were,\u201d replied Quicksilver; and,\nrogue that he was, he could not help laughing at the joke. \u201cSo you will\nnot be surprised to hear that they have all taken the shapes of swine!\nIf Circe had never done anything worse, I really should not think her so\nvery much to blame.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut can I do nothing to help them?\u201d inquired Ulysses.\n\n\u201cIt will require all your wisdom,\u201d said Quicksilver, \u201cand a little of my\nown into the bargain, to keep your royal and sagacious self from being\ntransformed into a fox. But do as I bid you; and the matter may end\nbetter than it has begun.\u201d\n\nWhile he was speaking, Quicksilver seemed to be in search of something;\nhe went stooping along the ground, and soon laid his hand on a little\nplant with a snow-white flower, which he plucked and smelt of. Ulysses\nhad been looking at that very spot only just before; and it appeared\nto him that the plant had burst into full flower the instant when\nQuicksilver touched it with his fingers.\n\n\u201cTake this flower, King Ulysses,\u201d said he. \u201cGuard it as you do your\neyesight; for I can assure you it is exceedingly rare and precious, and\nyou might seek the whole earth over without ever finding another like\nit. Keep it in your hand, and smell of it frequently after you enter the\npalace, and while you are talking with the enchantress. Especially when\nshe offers you food or a draught of wine out of her goblet, be careful to\nfill your nostrils with the flower\u2019s fragrance. Follow these directions,\nand you may defy her magic arts to change you into a fox.\u201d\n\nQuicksilver then gave him some further advice how to behave, and bidding\nhim be bold and prudent, again assured him that, powerful as Circe was,\nhe would have a fair prospect of coming safely out of her enchanted\npalace. After listening attentively, Ulysses thanked his good friend, and\nresumed his way. But he had taken only a few steps, when, recollecting\nsome other questions which he wished to ask, he turned round again, and\nbeheld nobody on the spot where Quicksilver had stood; for that winged\ncap of his, and those winged shoes, with the help of the winged staff,\nhad carried him quickly out of sight.\n\nWhen Ulysses reached the lawn, in front of the palace, the lions and\nother savage animals came bounding to meet him, and would have fawned\nupon him and licked his feet. But the wise king struck at them with his\nlong spear, and sternly bade them begone out of his path; for he knew\nthat they had once been bloodthirsty men, and would now tear him limb\nfrom limb, instead of fawning upon him, could they do the mischief that\nwas in their hearts. The wild beasts yelped and glared at him, and stood\nat a distance, while he ascended the palace steps.\n\nOn entering the hall, Ulysses saw the magic fountain in the center of\nit. The up-gushing water had now again taken the shape of a man in a\nlong, white fleecy robe, who appeared to be making gestures of welcome.\nThe king likewise heard the noise of the shuttle in the loom, and the\nsweet melody of the beautiful woman\u2019s song, and then the pleasant voices\nof herself and the four maidens talking together, with peals of merry\nlaughter intermixed. But Ulysses did not waste much time in listening to\nthe laughter or the song. He leaned his spear against one of the pillars\nof the hall, and then, after loosening his sword in the scabbard, stepped\nboldly forward, and threw the folding doors wide open. The moment she\nbeheld his stately figure standing in the doorway, the beautiful woman\nrose from the loom, and ran to meet him with a glad smile throwing its\nsunshine over her face, and both her hands extended.\n\n\u201cWelcome, brave stranger!\u201d cried she. \u201cWe were expecting you.\u201d\n\nAnd the nymph with the sea-green hair made a curtsey down to the ground,\nand likewise bade him welcome; so did her sister with the bodice of oaken\nbark, and she that sprinkled dewdrops from her fingers\u2019 ends, and the\nfourth one with some oddity which I cannot remember. And Circe, as the\nbeautiful enchantress was called (who had deluded so many persons that\nshe did not doubt of being able to delude Ulysses, not imagining how wise\nhe was), again addressed him:\u2014\n\n\u201cYour companions,\u201d said she, \u201chave already been received into my palace,\nand have enjoyed the hospitable treatment to which the propriety of their\nbehavior so well entitles them. If such be your pleasure, you shall first\ntake some refreshment, and then join them in the elegant apartments which\nthey now occupy. See, I and my maidens have been weaving their figures\ninto this piece of tapestry.\u201d\n\nShe pointed to the web of beautifully woven cloth in the loom. Circe and\nthe four nymphs must have been very diligently at work since the arrival\nof the mariners; for a great many yards of tapestry had now been wrought,\nin addition to what I have before described. In this new part, Ulysses\nsaw his two and twenty friends represented as sitting on cushioned and\ncanopied thrones, greedily devouring dainties, and quaffing deep draughts\nof wine. The work had not yet gone any further. O, no indeed. The\nenchantress was far too cunning to let Ulysses see the mischief which her\nmagic arts had since brought upon the gormandisers.\n\n\u201cAs for yourself, valiant sir,\u201d said Circe, \u201cjudging by the dignity of\nyour aspect, I take you to be nothing less than a king. Deign to follow\nme, and you shall be treated as befits your rank.\u201d\n\nSo Ulysses followed her into the oval saloon, where his two and twenty\ncomrades had devoured the banquet, which ended so disastrously for\nthemselves, but all this while, he had held the snow-white flower in his\nhand, and had constantly smelt of it while Circe was speaking; and as he\ncrossed the threshold of the saloon, he took good care to inhale several\nlong and deep snuffs of its fragrance. Instead of two and twenty thrones\nwhich had before been ranged around the wall, there was now only a single\nthrone, in the center of the apartment. But this was surely the most\nmagnificent seat that ever a king or an emperor reposed himself upon,\nall made of chased gold, studded with precious stones, with a cushion\nthat looked like a soft heap of living roses, and overhung by a canopy of\nsunlight which Circe knew how to weave into drapery. The enchantress took\nUlysses by the hand, and made him sit down upon this dazzling throne.\n\nThen clapping her hands, she summoned the chief butler.\n\n\u201cBring hither,\u201d said she, \u201cthe goblet that is set apart for kings to\ndrink out of. And fill it with the same delicious wine which my royal\nbrother, King \u00c6etes, praised so highly, when he last visited me with my\nfair daughter Medea. That good and amiable child! Were she now here, it\nwould delight her to see me offering this wine to my honored guest.\u201d\n\nBut Ulysses, while the butler was gone for the wine, held the snow-white\nflower to his nose.\n\n\u201cIs it a wholesome wine?\u201d he asked.\n\nAt this the four maidens tittered; whereupon the enchantress looked\nround at them with an aspect of severity.\n\n\u201cIt is the wholesomest juice that ever was squeezed out of the grape,\u201d\nsaid she; \u201cfor, instead of disguising a man, as other liquor is apt to\ndo, it brings him to his true self, and shows him as he ought to be.\u201d\n\nThe chief butler liked nothing better than to see people turned into\nswine, or making any kind of a beast of themselves; so he made haste\nto bring the royal goblet, filled with a liquid as bright as gold, and\nwhich kept sparkling upward, and throwing a sunny spray over the brim.\nBut, delightfully as the wine looked, it was mingled with the most potent\nenchantments that Circe knew how to concoct. For every drop of the pure\ngrape juice there were two drops of the pure mischief; and the danger of\nthe thing was, that the mischief made it taste all the better. The mere\nsmell of the bubbles, which effervesced at the brim, was enough to turn a\nman\u2019s beard into pig\u2019s bristles, or make a lion\u2019s claws grow out of his\nfingers or a fox\u2019s brush behind him.\n\n\u201cDrink, my noble guest,\u201d said Circe, smiling as she presented him\nwith the goblet. \u201cYou will find in this draught a solace for all your\ntroubles.\u201d\n\nKing Ulysses took the goblet with his right hand, while with his left he\nheld the snow-white flower to his nostrils, and drew in so long a breath\nthat his lungs were quite filled with its pure and simple fragrance.\nThen, drinking off all the wine, he looked the enchantress calmly in the\nface.\n\n\u201cWretch,\u201d cried Circe, giving him a smart stroke with her wand, \u201chow dare\nyou keep your human shape a moment longer? Take the form of the brute\nwhom you most resemble. If a hog, go join your fellow-swine in the sty;\nif a lion, a wolf, a tiger, go howl with the wild beasts on the lawn; if\na fox, go exercise your craft in stealing poultry. Thou hast quaffed off\nmy wine, and canst be man no longer.\u201d\n\nBut, such was the virtue of the snow-white flower, instead of wallowing\ndown from his throne in swinish shape, or taking any other brutal form,\nUlysses looked even more manly and king-like than before. He gave the\nmagic goblet a toss, and sent it clashing over the marble floor, to\nthe farther end of the saloon. Then, drawing his sword, he seized the\nenchantress by her beautiful ringlets, and made a gesture as if he meant\nto strike off her head at one blow.\n\n\u201cWicked Circe,\u201d cried he, in a terrible voice, \u201cthis sword shall put\nan end to thy enchantments. Thou shalt die, vile witch, and do no more\nmischief in the world, by tempting human beings into the vices which make\nbeasts of them.\u201d\n\nThe tone and countenance of Ulysses were so awful, and his sword gleamed\nso brightly, and seemed to have so intolerably keen an edge, that Circe\nwas almost killed by the mere fright, without waiting for a blow. The\nchief butler scrambled out of the saloon, picking up the golden goblet as\nhe went; and the enchantress and the four maidens fell on their knees,\nwringing their hands, and screaming for mercy.\n\n\u201cSpare me!\u201d cried Circe. \u201cSpare me, royal and wise Ulysses. For now\nI know that thou art he of whom Quicksilver forewarned me, the most\nprudent of mortals, against whom no enchantments can prevail. Thou only\ncouldst have conquered Circe. Spare me, wisest of men. I will show\nthee true hospitality, and even give myself to be thy slave, and this\nmagnificent palace to be henceforth thy home.\u201d\n\nThe four nymphs, meanwhile, were making a most piteous ado; and\nespecially the ocean nymph with the sea-green hair, wept a great deal\nof salt-water, and the fountain nymph, besides scattering dewdrops from\nher fingers\u2019 ends, nearly melted away into tears. But Ulysses would\nnot be pacified until Circe had taken a solemn oath to change back his\ncompanions, and as many others as he should direct, from their present\nforms of beast or bird into their former shapes of men.\n\n\u201cOn these conditions,\u201d said he, \u201cI consent to spare your life. Otherwise\nyou must die upon the spot.\u201d\n\nWith a drawn sword hanging over her, the enchantress would readily have\nconsented to do as much good as she had hitherto done mischief, however\nlittle she might like such employment. She therefore led Ulysses out\nof the back entrance of the palace, and showed him the swine in their\nsty. There were about fifty of these unclean beasts in the whole herd;\nand though the greater part were hogs by birth and education, there was\nwonderfully little difference to be seen betwixt them and their new\nbrethren, who had so recently worn the human shape. To speak critically,\nindeed, the latter rather carried the thing to excess, and seemed to make\nit a point to wallow in the miriest part of the sty, and otherwise to\noutdo the original swine in their own natural vocation. When men once\nturn to brutes, the trifle of man\u2019s wit that remains in them adds tenfold\nto their brutality.\n\nThe comrades of Ulysses, however, had not quite lost the remembrance of\nhaving formerly stood erect. When he approached the sty, two and twenty\nenormous swine separated themselves from the herd, and scampered towards\nhim, with such a chorus of horrible squealing as made him clap both hands\nto his ears. And yet they did not seem to know what they wanted, nor\nwhether they were merely hungry, or miserable from some other cause. It\nwas curious, in the midst of their distress, to observe them thrusting\ntheir noses into the mire, in quest of something to eat. The nymph with\nthe bodice of oaken bark (she was the hamadryad of an oak) threw a\nhandful of acorns among them; and the two and twenty hogs scrambled and\nfought for the prize, as if they had tasted not so much as a noggin of\nsour milk for a twelvemonth.\n\n\u201cThese must certainly be my comrades,\u201d said Ulysses. \u201cI recognize their\ndispositions. They are hardly worth the trouble of changing them into\nthe human form again. Nevertheless, we will have it done, lest their\nbad example should corrupt the other hogs. Let them take their original\nshapes, therefore, Dame Circe, if your skill is equal to the task. It\nwill require greater magic, I trow, than it did to make swine of them.\u201d\n\nSo Circe waved her wand again, and repeated a few magic words, at the\nsound of which the two and twenty hogs pricked up their pendulous ears.\nIt was a wonder to behold how their snouts grew shorter and shorter, and\ntheir mouths (which they seemed to be sorry for, because they could not\ngobble so expeditiously) smaller and smaller, and how one and another\nbegan to stand upon his hind legs, and scratch his nose with his fore\ntrotters. At first the spectators hardly knew whether to call them hogs\nor men, but by and by came to the conclusion that they rather resembled\nthe latter. Finally, there stood the twenty-two comrades of Ulysses,\nlooking pretty much the same as when they left the vessel.\n\nYou must not imagine, however, that the swinish quality had entirely gone\nout of them. When once it fastens itself into a person\u2019s character, it\nis very difficult getting rid of it. This was proved by the hamadryad,\nwho, being exceedingly fond of mischief, threw another handful of\nacorns before the twenty-two newly restored people; whereupon down they\nwallowed, in a moment, and gobbled them up in a very shameful way.\n\nThen, recollecting themselves, they scrambled to their feet, and looked\nmore than commonly foolish.\n\n\u201cThanks, noble Ulysses!\u201d they cried. \u201cFrom brute beasts you have restored\nus to the condition of men again.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not put yourselves to the trouble of thanking me,\u201d said the wise\nking. \u201cI fear I have done but little for you.\u201d\n\nTo say the truth, there was a suspicious kind of a grunt in their voices,\nand, for a long time afterwards, they spoke gruffly, and were apt to set\nup a squeal.\n\n\u201cIt must depend upon your own future behavior,\u201d added Ulysses, \u201cwhether\nyou do not find your way back to the sty.\u201d\n\nAt this moment, the note of a bird sounded from the branch of a\nneighboring tree.\n\n\u201cPeep, peep, pe\u2014wee\u2014ep!\u201d\n\nIt was the purple bird, who, all this while, had been sitting over their\nheads, watching what was going forward, and hoping that Ulysses would\nremember how he had done his utmost to keep him and his followers out of\nharm\u2019s way. Ulysses ordered Circe instantly to make a king of this good\nlittle fowl and leave him exactly as she found him. Hardly were the words\nspoken, and before the bird had time to utter another \u201cpe\u2014weep,\u201d King\nPicus leaped down from the bough of the tree, as majestic a sovereign\nas any in the world, dressed in a long purple robe and gorgeous yellow\nstockings, with a splendidly wrought collar about his neck, and a golden\ncrown upon his head. He and King Ulysses exchanged with one another the\ncourtesies which belong to their elevated rank. But from that time forth,\nKing Picus was no longer proud of his crown and his trappings of royalty,\nnor of the fact of his being a king; he felt himself merely the upper\nservant of his people, and that it must be his life-long labor to make\nthem better and happier.\n\nAs for the lions, tigers, and wolves (though Circe would have restored\nthem to their former shapes at his slightest word), Ulysses thought\nit advisable that they should remain as they now were, and thus give\nwarning of their cruel dispositions, instead of going about under the\nguise of men, and pretending to human sympathies, while their hearts had\nthe bloodthirstiness of wild beasts. So he let them howl as much as they\nliked, but never troubled his head about them. And, when everything was\nsettled according to his pleasure, he sent to summon the remainder of his\ncomrades, whom he had left at the seashore. These being arrived, with the\nprudent Eurylochus at their head, they all made themselves comfortable in\nCirce\u2019s enchanted palace, until quite rested and refreshed from the toils\nand hardships of their voyage.\n\n\n\n\nULYSSES AND THE SIRENS\n\nBy Sir George W. Cox\n\n\nWhen Ulysses and his men had left the island of the lady Circe, a fresh\nbreeze carried them merrily for several days over the sea. But after that\nthe wind sank down, and there was a calm. The sails flapped against the\nmast, and they had to take them down and to row the ship on with their\nlong oars. The sun was shining hot and fierce, and the men were very\ntired. There was not even a ripple upon the sea, and not a breath of air\nto cool their burning faces.\n\nUlysses remembered how the lady Circe had told him that he would have to\npass near the Sirens\u2019 island where the sea was always calm, and how she\nsaid that he must take care not to listen to the Sirens\u2019 song, if he did\nnot wish his ship to be dashed to pieces on the rocks. For, all day long,\nthe Sirens lay on the seashore, or swam about in the calm water, singing\nso sweetly that no one who heard them could ever pass on without going to\nthem: and whoever went to them was killed upon the rocks, for the Sirens\nwere very beautiful and cruel, and they sang their soft enticing song,\nto draw the sailors into the shallow water, that their ships might be\nbroken on the terrible reefs which lay hidden beneath the calm sea. When\nCirce told Ulysses of the Sirens\u2019 rocks, she said that he must fill his\nsailors\u2019 ears with wax, that they might not hear the song and be drawn in\nupon those terrible reefs. So, as the sun shone down fiercely on their\nheads, Ulysses thought they must be coming near to the island of the\nSirens; and he took a large lump of wax and pressed it in his fingers\ntill the hot sun made it soft and sticky. Then he called the men and told\nthem he must fill their ears with wax, so they would not hear the song of\nthe beautiful and cruel Sirens. But Ulysses was a very strange man, and\nliked to hear and see everything; so he said that he must hear the song\nhimself, and that they must tie him to the mast for fear he should leap\ninto the sea to swim to the Sirens\u2019 land.\n\nThen he filled the sailors\u2019 ears with wax so that they could hear\nnothing; and they took a large rope and put it two or three times round\nthe arms and waist of Ulysses; and then they sat down again on their\nbenches, and began to row the ship on as quickly as they could.\n\nPresently through the breathless air, and over the still and sleeping\nsea, there came a sound so sweet and soothing that Ulysses thought that\nhe could no longer be living on the earth. Softer and sweeter it swelled\nupon the ear, and it seemed to speak to him of rest and peace, although\nhe could hear no words; and he felt as if he could give up everything if\nonly he might hear those sweet sounds for ever. So he made signs to the\nsailors to row on quicker; but presently the song rose in the sultry air,\nmore sweet and gentle and enticing; and it seemed to say:\n\n\u201cO tired and weary sailors, why do you toil so hard to row your ship\nunder this fierce hot sun? Come to us, and sit among these cool rocks:\ncome and rest\u2014come and rest.\u201d\n\nBut he did not yet hear the words, for they were still too far from the\nSirens\u2019 rocks. Still, nearer and nearer the sailors rowed; and now he\nheard the words of their song, and he knew that they were speaking to\nhimself, for they said:\n\n\u201cO, Ulysses, man of many toils and long wanderings, great glory of the\nGreeks, come to us and listen to our song. Every one who passes over\nthe sea near our island stays to hear it, and forgets all his labor and\nall his trouble, and then goes away peaceful and happy. Come and rest,\nUlysses, come and rest. We know all the great deeds you have done at\nTroy, and how you have been tossed by many storms, and suffered many\nsorrows sailing on the wide sea. But here the sea is always calm, and the\nsun cannot scorch you in the cool and pleasant caves where you shall hear\nus sing.\u201d\n\nThen Ulysses cried out to the sailors, \u201cLet me go, let me go, they are\ncalling me; do you not hear?\u201d And he struggled with all his might to\nbreak the cords that bound him; but when they saw him trying to get free,\nthey went and tied stronger cords round his arms and waist, and rowed on\nquicker than ever. And still Ulysses prayed them to set him free, that he\nmight leap into the sea and swim to the Sirens\u2019 caves. \u201cI cannot stay,\u201d\nhe said; \u201cthey are calling me by my name; their song rises sweeter and\nclearer than ever; let us go, let us go.\u201d And again he heard them singing.\n\n\u201cO man of many toils, we are waiting for you and will sing you to sleep,\nand charm all your cares away for ever.\u201d\n\nBut quicker and quicker the sailors rowed on, till at last they had\npassed the island. And the Sirens saw that Ulysses was going away; but\nyet again they sang.\n\n\u201cCome back, Ulysses, come back and rest in our cool green caves, O man of\nmany griefs and wanderings.\u201d But the sound of their sweet song was now\nfaint before it reached the ship of Ulysses, and he could only just hear\nthem say:\n\n\u201cWill you leave us, will you leave us? Ah, Ulysses, you do not know what\nyou are losing. Come to our cool green caves; we are waiting\u2014we are\nwaiting.\u201d\n\nBut the power of the Sirens\u2019 song grew weaker as the ship went further\naway; and Ulysses began to think how foolish and silly he had been. He\ncould not hear any more the words of the song, as they called him by his\nname; but still he half wished to go back to the Sirens\u2019 land, while yet\nhe heard the sound of their singing, as it came faint and weak through\nthe hot and breathless air. Soon it was all ended. The sky was still;\nthe waves were all asleep; the clouds looked down drowsily on the water;\nand Ulysses thought that he could die, he was so tired and spent with\nstruggling.\n\nSo when the sailors saw that Ulysses did not struggle any more, they went\nand set him free, and took the wax out of their ears. And Ulysses said,\n\u201cO friends, it is better not to hear the Sirens\u2019 song; for if but two or\nthree of us had heard it, we should have gone to them, and our ship would\nhave been sunk in their green caves.\u201d\n\nAnd they said, \u201cIt is indeed better not to hear it. You were so busy\nlistening to their song that you could not see what we saw. All the way\nas we passed by the island, logs of wood and bits of masts were floating\non the water; and these must have been pieces from ships which have been\nbroken on the rocks, because the sailors heard the Sirens\u2019 song.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nNAUSICAA RESCUES ULYSSES\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nThe King of Ph\u00e6acia was Alcino\u00fcs, and he had five sons and one daughter,\nNausicaa. To her, where she slept with her two maidens by her, the\ngoddess Minerva went, taking the shape of her friend, the daughter of\nDymas, and said\u2014\n\n\u201cWhy hath thy mother so idle a daughter, Nausicaa? Lo! thy garments lie\nunwashed, and thy wedding must be near, seeing that many nobles in the\nland are suitors to thee. Ask then thy father that he give thee the wagon\nwith the mules, for the laundries are far from the city, and I will go\nwith thee.\u201d\n\nAnd when the morning was come, Nausicaa awoke, marvelling at the dream,\nand went seeking her parents. Her mother she found busy with her maidens\nat the loom, and her father she met as he was going to the council with\nthe chiefs of the land. Then she said, \u201cGive me, father, the wagon with\nthe mules, that I may take the garments to the river to wash them. Thou\nshouldst always have clean robes when thou goest to the council; and\nthere are my five brothers also, who love to have newly washed garments\nat the dance.\u201d\n\nBut of her own marriage she said nothing. And her father, knowing her\nthoughts, said, \u201cIt is well. The men shall harness the wagon for thee.\u201d\n\nSo they put the clothing into the wagon. And her mother put also food\nand wine, and olive oil also, wherewith she and her maidens might anoint\nthemselves after the bath. So they climbed into the wagon and went to the\nriver. And then they washed the clothing, and spread it out to dry on the\nrocks by the sea. And after that they had bathed and anointed themselves,\nthey sat down to eat and drink by the river side; and after the meal\nthey played at ball, singing as they played, and Nausicaa led the song.\nBut when they had nearly ended their play, the princess, throwing the\nball to one of her maidens, cast it so wide that it fell into the\nriver. Whereupon they all cried aloud, and Ulysses awoke. And he said to\nhimself, \u201cWhat is this land to which I have come? Are they that dwell\ntherein fierce or kind to strangers? Just now I seemed to hear the voice\nof nymphs, or am I near the dwellings of men?\u201d\n\nThen he twisted leaves about his loins, and rose up and went towards the\nmaidens, who indeed were frighted to see him (for he was wild of aspect),\nand fled hither and thither. But Nausicaa stood and fled not. Then\nUlysses thought within himself, should he go near and clasp her knees,\nor, lest haply this should anger her, should he stand and speak? And this\nhe did, saying\u2014\n\n\u201cI am thy suppliant, O queen. Whether thou art a goddess, I know not.\nBut if thou art a mortal, happy thy father and mother, and happy thy\nbrothers, and happiest of all he who shall win thee in marriage. Never\nhave I seen man or woman so fair. Thou art like a young palm-tree that\nbut lately I saw in Delos, springing by the temple of the god. But as for\nme, I have been cast on this shore, having come from the island Ogygia.\nPity me, then, and lead me to the city, and give me something, a wrapper\nof this linen, maybe, to put about me. So may the gods give thee all\nblessings!\u201d\n\nAnd Nausicaa made answer, \u201cThou seemest, stranger, to be neither evil\nnor foolish; and as for thy plight, the gods give good fortune or bad,\nas they will. Thou shalt not lack clothing or food, or anything that a\nsuppliant should have. And I will take thee to the city. Know also that\nthis land is Ph\u00e6acia, and that I am daughter to Alcino\u00fcs, who is king\nthereof.\u201d\n\nThen she called to her maidens, \u201cWhat mean ye, to flee when ye see a man?\nNo enemy comes hither to harm us, for we are dear to the gods; but if one\ncometh here overborne by trouble, it is well to succor him. Give this\nman, therefore, food and drink, and let him wash himself in the river,\nwhere there is shelter from the wind.\u201d\n\nSo they brought him down to the river, and gave him a tunic and a cloak\nto clothe himself, and also oil-olive in a flask of gold. Then, at his\nbidding, they departed a little space, and he washed the salt from his\nskin and out of his hair, and anointed himself, and put on the clothing.\nAnd Minerva made him taller and fairer to see, and caused the hair to\nbe thick on his head, in color as a hyacinth. Then he sat down on the\nseashore, right beautiful to behold, and the maiden said\u2014\n\n\u201cNot without some bidding of the gods comes this man to our land. Before,\nindeed, I deemed him uncomely, but now he seems like to the gods. I\nshould be well content to have such a man for a husband, and maybe he\nmight be willing to abide in this land. Give him, ye maidens, food and\ndrink.\u201d\n\nSo they gave him, and he ate ravenously, having fasted long. Then\nNausicaa bade yoke the mules, and said to Ulysses\u2014\n\n\u201cFollow thou with the maidens, and I will lead the way in the wagon.\nFor I would not that the people should speak lightly of me. I doubt not\nthat were thou with me some one of the baser sort would say, \u2018Who is\nthis stranger, tall and fair, that cometh with Nausicaa? Will he be her\nhusband? Perchance it is some god, or a man from far away; for of us men\nof Ph\u00e6acia she thinks scorn.\u2019 It would be shame that such words should be\nspoken. Do thou, then, follow behind, and when we are come to the city,\ntarry in a poplar grove that thou shalt see (\u2019tis the grove of Minerva)\ntill I shall have come to my father\u2019s house. Then follow; and for the\nhouse, that any one, even a child, can show thee, for the other Ph\u00e6acians\ndwell not in such. And when thou art come within the doors, pass quickly\nthrough the hall to where my mother sits. Close to the hearth is her\nseat, and my father\u2019s hard by, where he sits with the wine cup in his\nhand, as a god. Pass him by and lay hold of her knees, and pray her that\nshe give thee safe return to thy country.\u201d\n\nIt was evening when they came to the city. And Nausicaa drove the wagon\nto the palace. Her brothers came out to her, and loosed the mules and\ncarried in the clothing. Then she went to her chamber, where Eurymedusa,\nwho was her nurse, lighted a fire and prepared a meal. Meanwhile Ulysses\ncame from the grove, and lest any one should see him, Minerva spread a\nmist about him, and when he had now reached the city, she took the shape\nof a young maiden carrying a pitcher, and met him.\n\nThen Ulysses asked her, \u201cMy child, canst thou tell me where dwells\nAlcino\u00fcs? for I am a stranger in this place.\u201d\n\nAnd she answered, \u201cI will show thee, for indeed he dwells nigh to my\nown father. But be thou silent, for we Ph\u00e6acians love not strangers over\nmuch.\u201d\n\nThen she led him to the palace. A wondrous place it was, with walls of\nbrass and doors of gold, hanging on posts of silver; and on either side\nof the door were dogs of gold and silver, the work of Vulcan, and against\nthe wall, all along from the threshold to the inner chamber, were set\nseats, on which sat the chiefs of the Ph\u00e6acians, feasting; and youths\nwrought in gold stood holding torches in their hands, to give light in\nthe darkness. Fifty women were in the house grinding corn and weaving\nrobes, for the women of the land are no less skilled to weave than are\nthe men to sail the sea. And round about the house were gardens beautiful\nwith orchards of fig, and apple, and pear, and pomegranate, and olive.\nDrought hurts them not, nor frost, and harvest comes after harvest\nwithout ceasing. Also there was a vineyard; and some of the grapes were\nparching in the sun, and some were being gathered, and some again were\nbut just turning red. And there were beds of all manner of flowers; and\nin the midst of all were two fountains which never failed.\n\nThese things Ulysses regarded for a space and then passed into the hall.\nQuickly he passed and put his hands on the knees of Aret\u00e9 and said\u2014and\nas he spake the mist cleared from about him, and all that were in the\nhall beheld him\u2014\u201cI am a suppliant to thee, and to thy husband and to thy\nguests. The gods bless thee and them, and grant you to live in peace, and\nthat your children should come peacefully after you. Only, do you send\nme home to my native country.\u201d\n\nAnd he sat down in the ashes of the hearth. Then for a space all were\nsilent, but at the last spake Echene\u00fcs, who was the oldest man in the\nland\u2014\u201cKing Alcino\u00fcs, this ill becomes you that this man should sit in the\nashes of the hearth. Raise him and bid him sit upon a seat, and let us\npour out to Father Jupiter, who is the friend of suppliants, and let the\nkeeper of the house give him meat and drink.\u201d\n\nAnd Alcino\u00fcs did so, bidding his eldest born, Laodamas, rise from his\nseat. And an attendant poured water on his hands, and the keeper of the\nhouse gave him meat and drink. Then, when all had poured out to Father\nJupiter, King Alcino\u00fcs said that they would take counsel on the morrow\nabout sending this stranger to his home. And they answered that it should\nbe so, and each went to his home.\n\nOnly Ulysses was left in the hall, and Alcino\u00fcs and Aret\u00e9 with him. And\nAret\u00e9 saw his cloak and tunic, that she and her maidens had made them,\nand said\u2014\u201cWhence art thou, stranger? and who gave thee these garments?\u201d\n\nSo Ulysses told her how he had come from the island of Calypso, and what\nhe had suffered, and how Nausicaa had found him on the shore, and had\nguided him to the city.\n\nBut Alcino\u00fcs blamed the maiden that she had not herself brought him to\nthe house. \u201cFor thou wast her suppliant,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d said Ulysses; \u201cshe would have brought me, but I would not,\nfearing thy wrath.\u201d For he would not have the maiden blamed.\n\nThen said Alcino\u00fcs, \u201cI am not one to be angered for such cause. Gladly\nwould I have such a one as thou art to be my son-in-law, and I would give\nhim house and wealth. But no one would I stay against his will. And as\nfor sending thee to thy home, that is easy; for thou shalt sleep, and\nthey shall take thee meanwhile.\u201d\n\nAnd after this they slept. And the next day the king called the chiefs\nto an assembly, and told them of his purpose, that he would send this\nstranger to his home, for that it was their wont to show such kindness\nto such as needed it. And he bade fifty and two of the younger men make\nready a ship, and that the elders should come to his house, and bring\nDemodocus, the minstrel, with them, for he was minded to make a great\nfeast for this stranger before he departed. So the youths made ready the\nship. And afterwards there were gathered together a great multitude, so\nthat the palace was filled from the one end to the other.\n\nAnd Alcino\u00fcs slew for them twelve sheep and eight swine and two oxen.\nAnd when they had feasted to the full, the minstrel sang to them of how\nAchilles and Ulysses had striven together with fierce words at a feast,\nand how King Agamemnon was glad, seeing that so the prophecy of Apollo\nwas fulfilled, saying that when valor and counsel should fall out, the\nend of Troy should come. But when Ulysses heard the song, he wept,\nholding his mantle before his face.\n\nThis Alcino\u00fcs perceived, and said to the chiefs, \u201cNow that we have\nfeasted and delighted ourselves with song, let us go forth, that the\nstranger may see that we are skilful in boxing and wrestling and running.\u201d\n\nSo they went forth, a herald leading Demodocus by the hand, for the\nminstrel was blind. Then stood up many Ph\u00e6acian youths, and the fairest\nand strongest of them all was Laodamas, eldest son to the king, and after\nthem Euryalus. And next they ran a race, and Clytoneus was the swiftest.\nAnd among the wrestlers Euryalus was the best, and of the boxers,\nLaodamas. And in throwing the quoit Elatrius excelled, and in leaping at\nthe bar, Amphialus.\n\nThen Laodamas said to Ulysses, \u201cFather, wilt thou not try thy skill in\nsome game, and put away the trouble from thy heart?\u201d\n\nBut Ulysses answered, \u201cWhy askest thou this? I think of my troubles\nrather than of sport and sit among you, caring only that I may see again\nmy home.\u201d\n\nThen said Euryalus, \u201cAnd in very truth, stranger, thou hast not the look\nof a wrestler or boxer. Rather would one judge thee to be some trader,\nwho sails over the sea for gain.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d answered Ulysses, \u201cthis is ill said. So true is it that the gods\ngive not all gifts to all men, beauty to one and sweet speech to another.\nFair of form art thou, no god could better thee; but thou speakest idle\nwords. I am not unskilled in these things, but stood among the first in\nthe old days; but since have I suffered much in battle and shipwreck.\nYet will I make trial of my strength, for thy words have angered me.\u201d\n\nWhereupon he took a quoit, heavier far than such as the Ph\u00e6acians were\nwont to throw, and sent it with a whirl. It hurtled through the air, so\nthat the brave Ph\u00e6acians crouched to the ground in fear, and fell far\nbeyond all the rest.\n\nThen said Ulysses, \u201cCome now, I will contend in wrestling or boxing, or\neven in the race, with any man in Ph\u00e6acia, save Laodamas only, for he is\nmy friend. I can shoot with the bow, and only Philoctetes could surpass\nme; and I can cast a spear as far as other men can shoot an arrow. But\nas for the race, it may be that some one might outrun me, for I have\nsuffered much on the sea.\u201d\n\nBut they all were silent, till the king stood up and said, \u201cThou hast\nspoken well. But we men of Ph\u00e6acia are not mighty to wrestle or to box;\nonly we are swift of foot, and skilful to sail upon the sea. And we love\nfeasts, and dances, and the harp, and gay clothing, and the bath. In\nthese things no man may surpass us.\u201d\n\nThen the king bade Demodocus the minstrel sing again. And when he had\ndone so, the king\u2019s two sons, Alius and Laodamas, danced together; and\nafterwards they played with the ball, throwing it into the air, cloud\nhigh, and catching it right skilfully.\n\nAnd afterwards the king said, \u201cLet us each give this stranger a mantle\nand a tunic and a talent of gold, and let Euryalus make his peace with\nwords and with a gift.\u201d\n\nAnd they all said that it should be so; also Euryalus gave Ulysses a\nsword with a hilt of silver and a scabbard of ivory. And after this\nUlysses went to the bath, and then they all sat down to the feast. But as\nhe went to the hall, Nausicaa, fair as a goddess, met him and said\u2014\u201cHail,\nstranger; thou wilt remember me in thy native country, for thou owest me\nthanks for thy life.\u201d\n\nAnd he answered, \u201cEvery day in my native country will I remember thee,\nfor indeed, fair maiden, thou didst save my life.\u201d\n\nAnd when they were set down to the feast, Ulysses sent a portion of the\nmeat which the king had caused to be set before him to the minstrel\nDemodocus, with a message that he should sing to them of the horse of\nwood which Epeius made, Minerva helping him, and how Ulysses brought it\ninto Troy, full of men of war who should destroy the city.\n\nThen the minstrel sang how that some of the Greeks sailed away, having\nset fire to their tents, and some hid themselves in the horse with\nUlysses, and how the men of Troy sat around, taking counsel what they\nshould do with it, and some judged that they should rip it open, and some\nthat they should throw it from the hill-top, and others again that they\nshould leave it to be a peace-offering to the gods; and how the Greeks\nissued forth from their lurking-place and spoiled the city, and how\nUlysses and Menelaus went to the house of De\u00efphobus.\n\nSo he sang, and Ulysses wept to hear the tale. And when Alcino\u00fcs\nperceived that he wept, he bade Demodocus cease from his song, for some\nthat were there liked it not. And to Ulysses he said that he should tell\nthem who was his father and his mother, and from what land he came, and\nwhat was his name. All these things Ulysses told them, and all that he\nhad done and suffered, down to the time when the Princess Nausicaa found\nhim on the river shore. And when he had ended, King Alcino\u00fcs bade that\nthe princess should give Ulysses yet other gifts; and after that they\nwent each man to his house to sleep.\n\nThe next day King Alcino\u00fcs put all the gifts into the ship. And when the\nevening was come Ulysses bade farewell to the king and to the queen, and\ndeparted.\n\n\n\n\nULYSSES AND THE SWINEHERD\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nNow Ulysses slept while the ship was sailing to Ithaca. And when it was\ncome to the shore he yet slept. Wherefore the men lifted him out, and\nput him on the shore with all his goods, and so left him. After a while\nhe awoke, and knew not the land, for there was a great mist about him,\nMinerva having contrived that it should be so, for good ends, as will be\nseen. Very wroth was he with the men of Ph\u00e6acia, thinking that they had\ncheated him; nor did it comfort him when he counted his goods to find\nthat of these he had lost nothing.\n\nBut as he walked by the sea, lamenting his fate, Minerva met him, having\nthe shape of a young shepherd; and Ulysses, when he saw him, was glad,\nand asked him how men called the country wherein he was.\n\nAnd the false shepherd said, \u201cThou art foolish, or, may be, hast come\nfrom very far, not to know this country. Rocky it is, not fit for horses;\nnor is it very broad; but it is fertile land, and full of wine; nor does\nit want for rain, and a good pasture it is for oxen and goats; and men\ncall it Ithaca. Even in Troy, which is very far, they say, from this land\nof Greece, men have heard of Ithaca.\u201d\n\nThis Ulysses was right glad to hear. Yet he was not minded to say who he\nwas, but rather to make up a tale.\n\nSo he said, \u201cYes, of a truth, I heard of this Ithaca in Crete, from which\nI am newly come with all this wealth, leaving also as much behind for my\nchildren. I made covenant with certain Ph\u00e6acians that they should take me\nto Pylos or to Elis; which thing indeed they were minded to do, only the\nwind drove them hither, and while I slept they put me upon the shore and\ndeparted to Sidon.\u201d\n\nThis pleased Minerva much, and she changed her shape, becoming like a\nwoman, tall and fair, and said to Ulysses\u2014\u201cRight cunning would he be\nwho could cheat thee. Even now in thy native country ceasest thou not\nfrom cunning words and deceits! But let these things be; for thou art\nthe wisest of mortal men, and I excel among the gods in counsel. I am\nMinerva, daughter of Jupiter, who am ever wont to stand by thee and help\nthee. And now we will hide these possessions of thine; and thou must be\nsilent, nor tell to any one who thou art, and endure many things, so\nthat thou mayest come to thine own again.\u201d\n\nBut still Ulysses doubted, and would have the goddess tell him whether\nof a truth he had come back to his native land. And she, commending his\nprudence, scattered the mist that was about him. Then Ulysses knew the\nland, and kissed the ground, and prayed to the nymphs that they would be\nfavorable to him. And after this, Minerva guiding him, he hid away his\npossessions in a cave, and put a great stone on the mouth. Then the two\ntook counsel together.\n\nAnd Minerva said, \u201cThink, man of many devices, how thou wilt lay hands on\nthese men, suitors of thy wife, who for three years have sat in thy house\ndevouring thy substance. She hath answered them craftily, making many\npromises, but still hoping for thy coming.\u201d\n\nThen Ulysses said, \u201cTruly I had perished, even as Agamemnon perished, but\nfor thee. But do thou help me, as of old in Troy, for with thee at my\nside I would fight with three hundred men.\u201d\n\nThen said Minerva, \u201cLo! I will cause that no man shall know thee. The\nsuitors shall take no account of thee, neither shall thy wife nor thy\nson know thee. But go to the swineherd Eum\u00e6us, where he dwells by the\nfountain of Arethusa, for he is faithful to thee and to thy house. And I\nwill hasten to Sparta, to the house of Menelaus, to fetch Telemachus, thy\nson, for he went thither, seeking news of thee.\u201d\n\nThen Minerva changed him into the shape of a beggar-man. She caused his\nskin to wither, and his hair to fall off, and his eyes to grow dim, and\nput on him filthy rags, with a great stag\u2019s hide about his shoulders, and\nin his hand a staff, and a wallet on his shoulder, fastened by a rope.\n\nThen she departed, and Ulysses went to the house of Eum\u00e6us, the\nswineherd. A great courtyard there was, and twelve sties for the sows,\nand four watchdogs, big as wild beasts, for such did the swineherd breed.\nHe himself was shaping sandals, and of his men three were with the swine\nin the fields, and one was driving a fat beast to the city, to be meat\nfor the suitors. When Ulysses came near, the dogs ran upon him, but the\nswineherd ran forth and drove away the dogs, and brought the old man in,\nand gave him a seat of brushwood, with a great goat-skin over it.\n\nThe two talked of matters in Ithaca, and Eum\u00e6us told how the suitors of\nthe queen were devouring the substance of Ulysses. Then the false beggar\nasked him of the king, saying that perchance, having travelled far, he\nmight know such an one.\n\nBut Eum\u00e6us said, \u201cNay, old man, thus do all wayfarers talk, yet we hear\nno truth from them. Not a vagabond fellow comes to this island but our\nqueen must see him, and ask him many things, weeping the while. And thou,\nI doubt not, for a cloak or a tunic, would tell a wondrous tale. But\nUlysses, I know, is dead, and either the fowls of the air devour him or\nthe fishes of the sea.\u201d\n\nAnd when the false beggar would have comforted him, saying he knew of\na truth that Ulysses would yet return, he hearkened not. Moreover, he\nprophesied evil for Telemachus also, who had gone to seek news of his\nfather, but would surely be slain by the suitors, who were even now lying\nin wait for him as he should return. And after this he asked the stranger\nwho he was and whence he had come. Then Ulysses answered him craftily,\ninventing another story.\n\nAfter this they talked much, and when the swineherd\u2019s men were returned\nthey all feasted together. And the night being cold, and there being\nmuch rain, Ulysses was minded to see whether one would lend him a cloak;\nwherefore he told this tale\u2014\n\n\u201cOnce upon a time there was laid an ambush near to the city of Troy.\nAnd Menelaus and Ulysses and I were the leaders of it. In the reeds we\nsat and the night was cold and the snow lay upon our shields. Now all\nthe others had cloaks, but I had left mine behind at the ships. So when\nthe night was three parts spent I spake to Ulysses, \u2018Here am I without\na cloak; soon, methinks, shall I perish with the cold.\u2019 Soon did he\nbethink him of a remedy, for he was ever ready with counsel. Therefore to\nme he said, \u2018Hush, lest some one hear thee,\u2019 and to the others, \u2018I have\nbeen warned in a dream. We are very far from the ships, and in peril.\nWherefore let some one run to the ships to King Agamemnon, that he send\nmore men to help.\u2019 Then Thoas, son of Andr\u00e6mon, rose up and ran, casting\noff his cloak, and this I took, and slept warmly therein. Were I this\nnight such as then I was, I should not lack such kindness even now.\u201d\n\nThen said Eum\u00e6us, \u201cThis is well spoken, old man. Thou shalt have a cloak\nto cover thee. But in the morning, thou must put on thy own rags again.\nYet perchance, when the son of Ulysses shall come, he will give thee new\ngarments.\u201d\n\nAfter this they slept, but Eum\u00e6us tarried without, keeping watch over the\nswine.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RETURN OF TELEMACHUS\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nNow all this time Telemachus tarried in Sparta with King Menelaus. To him\nwent Minerva and warned him that he should return to his home. Also she\nwarned him that the suitors had laid an ambush to slay him in the strait\nbetween Samos and Ithaca, and that he should keep clear of the island;\nand as soon as ever he came near to Ithaca he should land and go to the\nswineherd Eum\u00e6us, and send him to his mother, with tidings of his being\nsafely arrived.\n\nThen they departed. And when they were come to Ithaca, Telemachus bade\nthe men take the ship to the city, saying that he was minded to see his\nfarms, but that in the evening he would come to the city, but Telemachus\nwent to the dwelling of the swineherd Eum\u00e6us. And Ulysses heard the steps\nof a man, and, as the dogs barked not, said to Eum\u00e6us, \u201cLo! there comes\nsome comrade or friend, for the dogs bark not.\u201d\n\nAnd as he spake, Telemachus stood in the doorway, and the swineherd let\nfall from his hand the bowl in which he was mixing wine, and ran to him\nand kissed his head and his eyes and his hands. As a father kisses his\nonly son coming back to him from a far country after ten years, so did\nthe swineherd kiss Telemachus. And when Telemachus came in, the false\nbeggar rose, and would have given place to him; but Telemachus suffered\nhim not.\n\nAnd when they had eaten and drunk, Telemachus asked of the swineherd who\nthis stranger might be.\n\nThen the swineherd told him as he had heard, and afterwards said, \u201cI hand\nhim to thee; he is thy suppliant: do as thou wilt.\u201d\n\nBut Telemachus answered, \u201cNay, Eum\u00e6us. For am I master in my house? Do\nnot the suitors devour it? I will give this stranger, indeed, food and\nclothing and a sword, and will send him whithersoever he will, but I\nwould not that he should go among the suitors, so haughty are they and\nviolent.\u201d\n\nThen said Ulysses, \u201cBut why dost thou bear with these men? Do the people\nhate thee, that thou canst not avenge thyself on them? and hast thou\nnot kinsmen to help thee? As for me, I would rather die than see such\nshameful things done in house of mine.\u201d\n\nAnd Telemachus answered, \u201cMy people hate me not; but as for kinsmen, I\nhave none, for Ulysses had no other son but me. Therefore do these men\nspoil my substance, and, it may be, will take my life also. These things,\nhowever, the gods will order. But do thou, Eum\u00e6us, go to Penelope, and\ntell her that I am returned, but let no man know thereof, for there are\nthat counsel evil against me; but I will stay here meanwhile.\u201d\n\nSo Eum\u00e6us departed. But when he had gone Minerva came, like a woman tall\nand fair; but Telemachus saw her not, for it is not given to all to\nsee the immortal gods; but Ulysses saw her, and the dogs saw her, and\nwhimpered for fear. She signed to Ulysses, and he went forth, and she\nsaid\u2014\n\n\u201cHide not the matter from thy son, but plan with him how ye may slay the\nsuitors, and lo! I am with you.\u201d\n\nThen she made his garments white and fair and his body lusty and strong,\nand his face swarthy, and his cheeks full, and his beard black. And when\nhe was returned to the house, Telemachus marvelled to see him, and said\u2014\n\n\u201cThou art not what thou wast. Surely thou art some god from heaven.\u201d\n\nBut Ulysses made reply, \u201cNo god am I, only thy father, whom thou hast so\ndesired to see.\u201d\n\nAnd when Telemachus yet doubted, Ulysses told him how Minerva had so\nchanged him. Then Telemachus threw his arms about him, weeping, and both\nwept together for a while. And afterwards Telemachus asked him of his\ncoming back. And Ulysses, when he had told him of this, asked him how\nmany were the suitors, and whether they two could fight with them alone.\n\nThen said Telemachus, \u201cThou art, I know, a great warrior, my father, and\na wise, but this thing we cannot do; for these men are not ten, no, nor\ntwice ten, but from Dulichium come fifty and two, and from Samos four\nand twenty, and from Zacynthus twenty, and from Ithaca twelve; and they\nhave Medon the herald, and a minstrel also, and attendants.\u201d\n\nThen said Ulysses, \u201cGo thou home in the morning and mingle with the\nsuitors, and I will come as an old beggar; and if they treat me\nshamefully, endure it, yea, if they drag me to the door. Heed this also:\nwhen I give thee the token, take all the arms from the dwelling and hide\nthem in thy chamber. And when they shall ask thee why thou doest thus,\nsay thou takest them out of the smoke, for they are not such as Ulysses\nleft behind him when he went to Troy, but that the smoke had soiled them.\nBut keep two swords and two spears and two shields\u2014these shall be for\nthee and me. Only let no one know of my coming back\u2014not Laertes, nor the\nswineherd, no, nor Penelope herself.\u201d\n\nAfter a while the swineherd came back from the city, having carried his\ntidings to the queen. And this she also had heard from the sailors of\nthe ships. And the suitors were in great wrath and fear, because their\npurpose had failed, and also because Penelope the queen knew what they\nhad been minded to do, and hated them because of it.\n\n\n\n\nULYSSES IN HIS HOME\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nThe next day Telemachus went to the city. Before he went he said to\nEum\u00e6us that he should bring the beggar-man to the city, for that it was\nbetter to beg in the city than in the country. The false beggar also said\nthat he wished this. And Telemachus went to the palace and greeted the\nnurse Euryclea and his mother Penelope, who was right glad to see him,\nbut to whom he told nought of what had happened.\n\nNow in the meanwhile Eum\u00e6us and the false beggar were coming to the city.\nAnd when they were now near to it, by the fountain which Ithacus and his\nbrethren had made, where was also an altar of the nymphs, Melanthius the\ngoatherd met them, and spake evil to Eum\u00e6us, rebuking him that he brought\nthis beggar to the city. And he came near and smote Ulysses with his foot\non the thigh, but moved him not from the path. And Ulysses thought a\nwhile, should he smite him with his club and slay him, or dash him on the\nground? But it seemed to him better to endure.\n\nSo they went on to the palace. And at the door of the court there lay the\ndog Argus, whom in the old days Ulysses had reared with his own hand. But\nere the dog grew to his full, Ulysses had sailed to Troy. And, while he\nwas strong, men used him in the chase, hunting wild goats and roe-deer\nand hares. But now he was old and lay neglected in a corner. Well he knew\nhis master, and, though he could not come near him, he wagged his tail\nand drooped his ears.\n\nAnd Ulysses, when he saw him, wiped away a tear, and said, \u201cSurely this\nis strange, Eum\u00e6us, that such a dog, being of so fine a breed, should lie\nhere uncared for.\u201d\n\nAnd Eum\u00e6us made reply, \u201cHe belongeth to a master who died far away. For\nindeed when Ulysses had him of old, he was the strongest and swiftest of\ndogs; but now my dear lord has perished far away, and the careless women\ntend him not.\u201d And as he spake the dog Argus died. Twenty years had he\nwaited, and he saw his master at the last.\n\nAfter this the two entered the hall. And Telemachus, when he saw them,\ntook from the basket bread and meat, as much as his hands could hold,\nand bade carry them to the beggar, and also to tell him that he might\ngo round among the suitors, asking alms. So he went, stretching out his\nhand, as though he were wont to beg; and some gave, having compassion\nupon him and marvelling at him, and some asked who he was. But of all,\nAntino\u00fcs was the most shameless. For when Ulysses came to him and told\nhim how he had had much riches and power in former days, and how he had\ngone to Egypt, and had been sold a slave into Cyprus, Antino\u00fcs mocked\nhim, saying\u2014\n\n\u201cGet thee from my table, or thou shalt find a worse Egypt and a harder\nCyprus than before.\u201d\n\nThen Ulysses said, \u201cSurely thy soul is evil though thy body is fair;\nfor though thou sittest at another man\u2019s feast, yet wilt thou give me\nnothing.\u201d\n\nBut Antino\u00fcs, in great wrath, took the stool on which he sat and cast it\nat him, smiting his right shoulder. Ulysses stirred not, but stood as a\nrock. But in his heart he thought on revenge. So he went and sat down at\nthe door. And being there, he said, \u201cHear me, suitors of the queen! There\nis no wrath if a man be smitten fighting for that which is his own, but\nAntino\u00fcs has smitten me because I am poor. May the curse of the hungry\nlight on him therefore, ere he come to his marriage day.\u201d\n\nAnd the other suitors blamed him that he had dealt so cruelly with this\nstranger, and the queen was wroth when she heard it, as she sat in the\nupper chamber with her maidens about her.\n\nBut as the day passed on there came a beggar from the city, huge of\nbulk, mighty to eat and drink, but his strength was not according to his\nsize. Arn\u00e6us was his name, but the young men called him Irus, because\nhe was their messenger, after Iris, the messenger of Jupiter. He spake\nto Ulysses, \u201cGive space, old man, lest I drag thee forth. The young men\nwould even now have it so, but I think it shame to strike such an one as\nthee.\u201d\n\nThen said Ulysses, \u201cThere is room for thee and for me; get what thou\ncanst, for I do not grudge thee aught, but beware lest thou anger me,\nlest I harm thee, old though I am.\u201d But Irus would not hear words of\npeace, and still challenged him to fight.\n\nWhen Antino\u00fcs saw this he was glad, and said, \u201cThis is the goodliest\nsport that I have seen in this house. These two beggars would fight; let\nus haste and match them.\u201d\n\nAnd the saying pleased them; and Antino\u00fcs spake again: \u201cHear me, ye\nsuitors of the queen! We have put aside these paunches of the goats for\nour supper. Let us agree that whosoever of these two shall win, have\nchoice of these, that which pleaseth him best, and shall hereafter eat\nwith us, and that no one else shall sit in his place.\u201d\n\nThen said Ulysses, \u201cIt is hard for an old man to fight with a young. Yet\nwill I do it. Only do ye swear to me that no one shall strike me a foul\nblow while I fight with this man.\u201d\n\nThen Telemachus said that this should be so, and they all consented to\nhis words. Then Ulysses girded himself for the fight. All that were there\nsaw his thighs, how great and strong they were, and his shoulders, how\nbroad, and his arms, how mighty. And they said one to another, \u201cThere\nwill be little of Irus left, so stalwart seems this beggar-man.\u201d Irus\nwould have slunk out of sight, but they compelled him to come forth.\n\nThen said the Prince Antino\u00fcs, \u201cHow is this, thou braggart, that thou\nfearest this old man, all woe-begone as he is? Hearken thou to this. If\nthis man prevails against thee, thou shalt be cast into a ship and taken\nto the land of King Echetus, who will cut off thy ears and thy nose.\u201d\n\nSo the two came together. And Ulysses thought whether he should strike\nthe fellow and slay him out of hand, or fell him to the ground. And this\nlast seemed the better of the two. So when Irus had dealt his blow, he\nsmote him on the jaw, so that he fell howling on the ground.\n\nThen all the suitors laughed aloud. But Ulysses dragged him out of the\nhall, and propped him by the wall of the courtyard, putting a staff in\nhis hand and saying, \u201cSit there, and keep dogs and swine from the door,\nbut dare not hereafter to lord it over men, lest some worse thing befall\nthee.\u201d\n\nThen Antino\u00fcs gave him a great paunch, and Amphinomus gave two loaves,\nand pledged him in a cup, saying, \u201cGood luck to thee, father, hereafter,\nthough now thou seemest to have evil fortune.\u201d\n\nAnd Ulysses made reply, \u201cO Amphinomus, thou hast much wisdom, methinks,\nand thy father I know, is wise. Take heed, therefore. There is nought\nfeebler upon earth than man. For in the days of his prosperity he\nthinketh nothing of trouble, but when the gods send evil to him there\nis no help in him. I also trusted once in myself and my kinsmen, and\nnow\u2014behold me what I am! Let no man, therefore, do violence and wrong,\nfor Jupiter shall punish such deeds at the last. These suitors of the\nqueen are working evil to him who is absent. Yet will he return some day\nand slay his enemies. Fly thou, therefore, while yet there is time, nor\nmeet him when he comes.\u201d\n\nSo he spake, with kindly thought.\n\nThat evening, the suitors having departed to their own dwellings, Ulysses\nand Telemachus took the arms from the hall, as they had planned to do.\nAnd while they did so Telemachus said, \u201cSee, my father, this marvellous\nbrightness that is on the pillars and the ceiling. Surely some god is\nwith us.\u201d\n\nAnd Ulysses made reply, \u201cI know it: be silent. And now go to thy chamber\nand sleep, and leave me here, for I have somewhat to say to thy mother\nand her maidens.\u201d\n\nWhen the queen and her maidens came into the hall (for it was their work\nto cleanse it and make it ready for the morrow) Penelope asked him of his\nfamily and his country. At first he made as though he would not answer,\nfearing lest he should trouble her with the story of that which he had\nsuffered. But afterwards, for she urged him, telling him what she herself\nhad suffered, her husband being lost and her suitors troubling her\nwithout ceasing, he made up a tale that should satisfy her. He told her\nthat he was a man of Crete, a brother of King Idomeneus, and how he had\ngiven hospitality to Ulysses when he was sailing to Troy with the sons of\nAtreus.\n\nAnd when the queen, seeking to know whether he spake the truth, asked\nhim of Ulysses what manner of man he was, and with what clothing he was\nclothed, he answered her rightly, saying, \u201cI remember me that he had a\nmantle, twofold, woolen, of sea-purple, clasped with a brooch of gold,\nwhereon was a dog that held a fawn by the throat; marvellously wrought\nthey were, so hard held the one, so strove the other to be free. Also he\nhad a tunic, white and smooth, which the women much admired. But whether\nsome one had given him these things I know not, for indeed many gave him\ngifts. Also he had a herald with him, one Eurybates, older than him,\ndark-skinned, round in the shoulders, with curly hair.\u201d\n\nAnd Penelope, knowing these things to be true, wept aloud, crying that\nshe should see her husband no more. The false beggar comforted her,\nsaying that Ulysses was in the land of Thresprotians, having much wealth\nwith him, only that he had lost his ships and comrades, yet nevertheless\nwould speedily return.\n\nThen Penelope bade her servants make ready a bed for the stranger of soft\nmats and blankets, and prepare a bath for him. But the mats and blankets\nhe would not have, saying that he would sleep as before. Wherefore the\nqueen bade Euryclea, the keeper of the house, do this thing for him,\nsaying that he had been the comrade of her lord, and was marvellously\nlike to him in feet and hands.\n\nAnd this the old woman was right willing to do, for love of her master,\n\u201cfor never,\u201d she said, \u201cof all strangers that had come to the land, had\ncome one so like to him.\u201d\n\nWhen she had prepared the bath for his feet, Ulysses sat by the fire, but\nas far in the shadow as he could, lest the old woman should see a great\nscar that was upon his leg, and know him thereby.\n\nBy this scar the old nurse knew that it was Ulysses himself, and said, \u201cO\nUlysses, O my child, to think that I knew thee not!\u201d\n\nAnd she looked towards the queen, meaning to tell the thing to her. But\nUlysses laid his hand on her throat, \u201cMother, wouldst thou kill me? I am\nreturned after twenty years; and none must know till I shall be ready to\ntake vengeance.\u201d\n\nAnd the old woman held her peace. And after this Penelope talked with\nhim again, telling him her dreams, how she had seen a flock of geese in\nher palace, and how that an eagle had slain them, and when she mourned\nfor these geese, lo! a voice said, \u201cThese geese are thy suitors, and the\neagle thy husband.\u201d\n\nAnd Ulysses said that the dream was well. Then she said that on the\nmorrow she must make her choice, for she had promised to bring forth the\ngreat bow that was Ulysses\u2019, and whosoever should draw it most easily,\nand shoot an arrow best at a mark, should be her husband.\n\nAnd Ulysses made answer to her, \u201cIt is well, lady. Put not off this\ntrial of the bow, for before one of them shall draw the string the great\nUlysses shall come and duly shoot at the mark that shall be set.\u201d\n\nAfter this Penelope slept, but Ulysses watched.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TRIAL OF THE BOW\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nThe next day many things cheered Ulysses for that which he had to do; for\nfirst the goddess Minerva had told him that she would stand at his side,\nand next he heard the thunder of Jupiter in a clear sky, and at last it\nchanced that a woman who sat at the mill grinding corn, being sore weary\nof her task, and hating the suitors, said, \u201cGrant Father Jupiter, that\nthis be the last meal which these men shall eat in the house of Ulysses!\u201d\n\nAfter a while the suitors came and sat down, as was their wont, to the\nfeast, and the servants bare to Ulysses, as Telemachus had bidden, a\nfull share with the others. When Ctesippus, a prince of Samos, saw this,\nhe said, \u201cIs it well that this fellow should fare even as we? Look now at\nthe gift that I shall give him.\u201d Whereupon he took a bullock\u2019s foot out\nof the basket wherein it lay, and cast it at Ulysses.\n\nBut he moved his head to the left and shunned it, and it flew on, marking\nthe wall. And Telemachus cried in great wrath, \u201cIt is well for thee,\nCtesippus, that thou didst not strike this stranger. For surely, hadst\nthou done this thing, my spear had pierced thee through, and thy father\nhad made good cheer, not for thy marriage, but for thy burial.\u201d\n\nThen said Agelaus, \u201cThis is well said. Telemachus should not be wronged,\nno, nor this stranger. But, on the other hand, he must bid his mother\nchoose out of the suitors whom she will, and marry him, nor waste our\ntime any more.\u201d\n\nAnd Telemachus said, \u201cIt is well. She may marry whom she will. But\nfrom my house I will never send her against her will.\u201d And the suitors\nlaughed, and scoffed at Telemachus, but he heeded them not, and sat\nwaiting till his father should give the sign.\n\nAlter this Penelope went to fetch the great bow of Ulysses. From the peg\non which it hung she took it with its sheath, and sitting down, she laid\nit on her knees and wept over it, and after this rose up and went to\nwhere the suitors sat feasting in the hall. The bow she brought, and also\nthe quiver full of arrows, and standing by the pillar of the dome, spake\nthus\u2014\n\n\u201cYe suitors who devour this house, making pretence that ye wish to wed\nme, lo! here is a proof of your skill. Here is the bow of the great\nUlysses. Whoso shall bend it easiest in his hands, and shoot an arrow\nmost easily through the helve-holes of the twelve axes that Telemachus\nshall set up, him will I follow, leaving this house, which I shall\nremember only in my dreams.\u201d\n\nThen she bade Eum\u00e6us bear the bow and the arrows to the suitors. And the\ngood swineherd wept to see his master\u2019s bow, and Phil\u00e6tius, the herdsman\nof the kine, wept also, for he was a good man, and loved the house of\nUlysses. Then Telemachus planted in due order the axes wherein were the\nhelve-holes.\n\nThen first Leiodes, the priest, who alone among the suitors hated their\nevil ways, made trial of the bow. But he moved it not. It wearied his\nhands, for they were tender, and unwont to toil. And he said, \u201cI cannot\nbend this bow; let some other try.\u201d\n\nAntino\u00fcs was wroth to hear such words, and bade Melanthius bring forth\nfrom the stores a roll of fat, that they might anoint the string and\nsoften it. So they softened the string with fat, but could not bend it,\nand they tried all of them in vain, till only Antino\u00fcs and Eurymachus\nwere left, who indeed were the bravest and the strongest of them all.\n\nNow the swineherd and the herdsman of the kine had gone out of the yard,\nand Ulysses came behind them and said, \u201cWhat would ye do if Ulysses were\nto come back to his home? Would ye fight for him, or for the suitors?\u201d\n\nAnd both said that they would fight for him.\n\nAnd Ulysses said, \u201cIt is even I who am come back in the twentieth year,\nand ye, I know, are glad at heart that I am come; nor know I of any one\nbesides. And if ye will help me as brave men to-day, wives shall ye have,\nand possessions and houses near to mine own. And ye shall be brothers and\ncomrades to Telemachus. And for a sign, behold this scar, which the wild\nboar made when I hunted with my father Autolycus.\u201d\n\nThen they wept for joy and kissed Ulysses, and he also kissed them.\nAnd he said to Eum\u00e6us that he should bring the bow to him when the\nsuitors had tried their fortune; also that he should bid the women keep\nwithin doors, not stir out if they should hear the noise of battle. And\nPhil\u00e6tius he bade lock the doors of the hall and fasten them with a rope.\n\nAfter this he came back to the hall, and Eurymachus had the bow in his\nhands, and sought to warm it at the fire. Then he essayed to draw it, but\ncould not.\n\nAnd he groaned aloud, saying, \u201cWoe is me! not for loss of this marriage\nonly, for there are other women to be wooed in Greece, but that we are so\nmuch weaker than the great Ulysses. This is indeed a shame to tell.\u201d\n\nThen said Antino\u00fcs, \u201cNot so; to-day is a holy day of the God of Archers;\ntherefore we could not draw the bow. But to-morrow will we try once more,\nafter due sacrifice to Apollo.\u201d\n\nAnd this saying pleased them all; but Ulysses said, \u201cLet me try this bow,\nfor I would fain know whether I have such strength as I had in former\ndays.\u201d At this all the suitors were wroth, and chiefly Antino\u00fcs, but\nPenelope said that it should be so, and promised the man great gifts if\nhe could draw his bow.\n\nBut Telemachus spake thus, \u201cMother, the bow is mine to give or to refuse.\nAnd no man shall say me nay, if I will that this stranger make trial of\nit. But do thou go to thy chamber with thy maidens, and let men take\nthought for these things.\u201d\n\nThis he said, for he would have her depart from the hall, knowing\nwhat would happen therein. She marvelled to hear him speak with such\nauthority, and answered not, but departed. And when Eum\u00e6us would have\ncarried the bow to Ulysses, the suitors spake roughly to him, but\nTelemachus constrained him to go. Therefore he took the bow and gave it\nto his master. Then went he to Euryclea, and bade her shut the door of\nthe women\u2019s chambers and keep them within, whatsoever they might hear.\nPhil\u00e6tius shut the doors of the hall, and fastened with a rope.\n\nThen Ulysses handled the great bow, trying it. When he found it to be\nwithout flaw, just as a minstrel fastens a string upon his harp and\nstrains it to the pitch, so he strung the bow without toil; and holding\nthe string in his right hand, he tried its tone, and the tone was sweet\nas the voice of a swallow. Then he took an arrow from the quiver, and\nlaid the notch upon the string and drew it, sitting as he was, and the\narrow passed through every ring, and stood in the wall beyond. Then he\nsaid to Telemachus\u2014\n\n\u201cThere is yet a feast to be held before the sun go down.\u201d\n\nAnd he nodded the sign to Telemachus. And forthwith the young man stood\nby him, armed with spear and helmet and shield.\n\n\n\n\nTHE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nThen spake he to the suitors, \u201cThis labor has been accomplished. Let me\ntry at yet another mark.\u201d\n\nAnd he aimed his arrow at Antino\u00fcs. The man was just raising a cup to\nhis lips, thinking not of death, for who thought that any man, though\nmightiest of mortals, would venture on such a deed, being one among many?\nRight through the neck passed the arrow-head, and he dropped the cup and\nfell from the table.\n\nThe suitors, when they saw him fall, leapt from their seats; but when\nthey looked, there was neither spear nor shield upon the wall. And they\nknew not whether it was by chance or of set purpose that the stranger had\nsmitten him. Ulysses then declared who he was, saying\u2014\n\n\u201cDogs, ye thought that I would never come back. Therefore have ye\ndevoured my house, and made suit to my wife while I yet lived, and feared\nnot the gods nor regarded men. Therefore a sudden destruction is come\nupon you all.\u201d\n\nThen when all the others trembled for fear, Eurymachus said, \u201cIf thou be\nindeed Ulysses of Ithaca, thou hast said well. Foul wrong has been done\nto thee in the house and in the field. But lo! he who was the mover of\nit all lies here, even Antino\u00fcs. Nor was it so much this marriage that\nhe sought as to be king of this land, having destroyed thy house. But we\nwill pay thee back for all that we have devoured, even twenty times as\nmuch.\u201d\n\nBut Ulysses said, \u201cSpeak not of paying back. My hands shall not cease\nfrom slaying till I have taken vengeance on you all.\u201d\n\nThen said Eurymachus to his comrades, \u201cThis man will not stay his hands.\nHe will smite us all with his arrows where he stands. Let us win the\ndoor, and raise a cry in the city; then will this archer have shot his\nlast.\u201d\n\nAnd he rushed on, with his two-edged knife in his hand. But as he rushed,\nUlysses smote him on the breast with an arrow, and he fell forwards. And\nwhen Amphinomus came on, Telemachus slew him with his spear, but drew not\nthe spear from the body, lest some one should smite him unawares.\n\nThen he ran to his father and said, \u201cShall I fetch arms for us and our\nhelpers?\u201d\n\n\u201cYea,\u201d said he, \u201cand tarry not, lest my arrows be spent.\u201d\n\nSo he fetched from the armory four shields and four helmets and eight\nspears. And he and the servants, Eum\u00e6us and Phil\u00e6tius, armed themselves.\nUlysses also, when his arrows were spent, donned helmet and shield and\ntook a mighty spear in each hand. Melanthius, the goatherd, crept up\nto the armory and brought down therefrom twelve helmets and shields and\nspears. And when Ulysses saw that the suitors were arming themselves, he\nfeared greatly, and said to his son\u2014\n\n\u201cThere is treachery here. It is one of the women, or, it may be,\nMelanthius, the goatherd.\u201d\n\nAnd Telemachus said, \u201cThis fault is mine, my father, for I left the door\nof the chamber unfastened.\u201d\n\nSoon Eum\u00e6us spied Melanthius stealing up to the chamber again, and\nfollowed him, and Phil\u00e6tius with him.\n\nThere they caught him, as he took a helmet in one hand and a shield in\nthe other, and bound his feet and hands.\n\nThen these two went back to the hall, and there also came Minerva, having\nthe shape of Mentor. Still, for she would yet further try the courage of\nUlysses and his son, she helped them not as yet, but changing her shape,\nsat on the roof-beam like unto a swallow.\n\nAnd then cried Agelaus, \u201cFriends, Mentor is gone, and helps them not.\nLet us not cast our spears at random, but let six come on together, if\nperchance we may prevail against them.\u201d\n\nThen they cast their spears, but Minerva turned them aside, one to the\npillar and another to the door and another to the wall. But Ulysses and\nTelemachus and the two herdsmen slew each his man; and yet again they did\nso, and again. And all the while Minerva waved her flaming shield from\nabove, and the suitors fell as birds are scattered and torn by eagles.\n\nThen Leiodes, the priest, made supplication to Ulysses, saying, \u201cI never\nwrought evil in this house, and would have kept others from it, but they\nwould not. Naught have I done save serve at the altar; wherefore slay me\nnot.\u201d\n\nAnd Ulysses made reply, \u201cThat thou hast served at the altar of these\nmen is enough, and also that thou wouldst wed my wife.\u201d So he slew him;\nbut Phemius, the minstrel, he spared, for he had sung among the suitors\nin the hall, of compulsion, and not of good will; and also Medon, the\nherald, bidding them go into the yard. There they sat, holding by the\naltar and looking fearfully every way, for yet they feared that they\nshould die.\n\nAnd now Ulysses bade cleanse the hall and wash the benches and the tables\nwith water, and purify them with sulphur; and when this was done, that\nEuryclea, the nurse, should go to Penelope and tell her that her husband\nwas indeed returned. So Euryclea went to her chamber and found the queen\nnewly awoke from slumber, and told her that her husband was returned, and\nhow he had slain the suitors, and how she had known him by the scar where\nthe wild boar had wounded him.\n\nAnd yet the queen doubted, and said, \u201cLet me go down and see my son, and\nthese men that are slain, and the man who slew them.\u201d\n\nSo she went, and sat in the twilight by the other wall, and Ulysses sat\nby the pillar, with eyes cast down, waiting till his wife should speak to\nhim. She was sore perplexed; for now she seemed to know him, and now she\nknew him not, for he had not suffered that the women should put new robes\nupon him.\n\nAnd Telemachus said, \u201cMother, sittest thou apart from my father, and\nspeakest not to him? Surely thy heart is harder than a stone.\u201d\n\nBut Ulysses said, \u201cLet be, Telemachus. Thy mother will know that which is\ntrue in good time. But now let us hide this slaughter for a while, lest\nthe friends of these men seek vengeance against us. Wherefore let there\nbe music and dancing in the hall, so that men shall say, \u2018This is the\nwedding of the queen, and there is joy in the palace,\u2019 and know not of\nthe truth.\u201d\n\nSo the minstrel played and women danced. And meanwhile Ulysses went to\nthe bath, and clothed himself in bright apparel, and came back to the\nhall, and Minerva made him fair and young to see. Then he sat him down as\nbefore, near his wife, and said\u2014\n\n\u201cSurely, O lady, the gods have made thee harder of heart than all women\nbesides. Would other wife have kept away from her husband, coming back\nnow after twenty years?\u201d\n\nAnd when she doubted yet, he spake again. \u201cHear thou this, Penelope,\nand know that it is I myself, and not another. Dost thou remember how I\nbuilt up the bed in our chamber? In the court there grew an olive tree,\nstout as a pillar, and round it I built a chamber of stone, and spanned\nthe chamber with a roof; and I hung also a door, and then I cut off the\nleaves of the olive, and planed the trunk, to be smooth and round; and\nthe bed I inlaid with ivory and silver and gold, and stretched upon it an\nox-hide that was ornamented with silver.\u201d\n\nThen Penelope knew that he was her husband indeed, and ran to him, and\nthrew her arms about him and kissed him, saying, \u201cPardon me, my lord, if\nI was slow to know thee; for I feared, so many wiles have men, that some\none would deceive me, saying that he was my husband. But now I know this,\nthat thou art he and not another.\u201d\n\nAnd they wept over each other and kissed each other. So did Ulysses come\nback to his home after twenty years.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WANDERINGS OF \u00c6NEAS\n\nFROM VIRGIL\n\n\n\n\nTHE REMNANT OF THE DEFEATED ARMY SEEKS A NEW HOME\n\nBy Thomas Bulfinch and Alfred J. Church\n\n\nWe have followed one of the Grecian heroes, Ulysses, in his wanderings on\nhis return home from Troy, and now we propose to share the fortunes of\nthe remnant of the _conquered_ people, under their chief \u00c6neas, in their\nsearch for a new home, after the ruin of their native city.\n\nOn that fatal night when the wooden horse disgorged its contents of armed\nmen, and the capture and conflagration of the city were the result, \u00c6neas\nbeheld these things, but could not help them, being one against many.\nBut when he saw King Priam lying dead before him, and Troy in flames, he\nbethought him of his father Anchises, and his wife Cre\u00fcsa, and of his\nlittle son Ascanius, and how he had left them without defense at home.\nBut as he turned to seek them, the night being now, by reason of many\nfires, as clear as the day, he espied Helen sitting in the temple of\nVesta, where she had sought sanctuary; for she feared the men of Troy, to\nwhom she had brought ruin and destruction, and not less her own husband,\nwhom she had deceived.\n\nThen was his wrath kindled, and he spake to himself, \u201cShall this evil\nwoman return safe to Sparta? Shall she see again her home and her\nchildren, with Trojan women to be her hand-maidens? Shall Troy be burnt\nand King Priam be slain, and she take no harm? Not so; for though there\nbe no glory to be won from such a deed, yet shall I satisfy myself,\ntaking vengeance upon her for my kinsmen and my countrymen.\u201d But while\nhe thought these things in his heart, lo! there appeared unto him Venus,\nhis mother, as fair and as tall as the dwellers in heaven behold her.\nThen Venus spake thus, \u201cWhat meaneth all this rage, my son? Hast thou no\ncare for me? Hast thou forgotten thy father Anchises, and thy wife, and\nthy little son? Of a surety the fire and the sword had consumed them long\nsince, but that I cared for them and saved them. It is not Helen; no,\nnor Paris, that hath laid low this great city of Troy, but the wrath of\nthe gods. See now, for I will take away the mist that covers thine eyes;\nsee how Neptune with his trident is overthrowing the walls and rooting\nup the city from its foundations; and how Juno stands with spear and\nshield in the Sc\u00e6an Gate, and calls fresh hosts from the ships; and how\nPallas sits on the height with the storm-cloud about her and her Gorgon\nshield; and how Father Jupiter himself stirs up the enemy against Troy.\nFly, therefore, my son. I will not leave thee till thou shalt reach thy\nfather\u2019s house.\u201d And as she spake she vanished in the darkness.\n\nThen did \u00c6neas see dreadful forms and gods who were the enemies of Troy,\nand before his eyes the whole city seemed to sink down into the fire.\nEven as a mountain oak upon the hills on which the woodmen ply their\naxes bows its head while all its boughs shake about it, till at last, as\nblow comes after blow, with a mighty groan it falls crashing down from\nthe height, even so the city seemed to fall. Then did \u00c6neas pass on his\nway, the goddess leading him, and the flames gave place to him, and the\njavelins harmed him not.\n\nBut when he was come to his house he bethought him first of the old man\nhis father; but when he would have carried him to the hills, Anchises\nwould not, being loath to live in some strange country when Troy had\nperished. \u201cNay,\u201d said he, \u201cfly ye who are strong and in the flower of\nyour days. But as for me, if the gods had willed that I should live, they\nhad saved this dwelling for me. Enough it is, yea, and more than enough,\nthat once I have seen this city taken, and lived. Bid me, then, farewell\nas though I were dead. Death will I find for myself. And truly I have\nlong lingered here a useless stock and hated of the gods since Jupiter\nsmote me with the blast of his thunder.\u201d\n\nNor could the old man be moved from his purpose, though his son and his\nson\u2019s wife, and even the child Ascanius, besought him with many tears\nthat he should not make yet heavier the doom that was upon them. Then was\n\u00c6neas minded to go back to the battle and die. For what hope was left?\n\u201cThoughtest thou, my father,\u201d he cried, \u201cthat I should flee and leave\nthee behind? What evil word is this that has fallen from thy lips? If\nthe gods will have it that naught of Troy should be left, and thou be\nminded that thou and thine should perish with the city, be it so. The\nway is easy; soon will Pyrrhus be here; Pyrrhus, red with Priam\u2019s blood;\nPyrrhus, who slays the son before the face of the father, and the father\nat the altar. Was it for this, kind Mother Venus, that thou broughtest me\nsafe through fire and sword, to see the enemy in my home, and my father\nand my wife and my son lying slaughtered together? Comrades, give me my\narms, and take me back to the battle. At the least I will die avenged.\u201d\n\nBut as he girded on his arms and would have departed from the house, his\nwife Cre\u00fcsa caught his feet upon the threshold, staying him, and held\nout the little Ascanius, saying, \u201cIf thou goest to thy death, take wife\nand child with thee; but if thou hopest aught from arms, guard first the\nhouse where thou hast father and wife and child.\u201d\n\nAnd lo! as she spake there befell a mighty marvel, for before the face of\nfather and mother there was seen to shine a light on the head of the boy\nAscanius, and to play upon his waving hair and glitter on his temples.\nAnd when they feared to see this thing, and would have stifled the flame\nor quenched it with water, the old man Anchises in great joy raised his\neyes to heaven, and cried aloud, \u201cO Father Jupiter, if prayer move thee\nat all, give thine aid and make this omen sure.\u201d And even as he spake\nthe thunder rolled on his left hand, and a star shot through the skies,\nleaving a long trail of light behind, and passed over the house-tops till\nit was hidden in the woods of Ida. Then the old man lifted himself up and\ndid obeisance to the star, and said, \u201cI delay no more: whithersoever ye\nlead I will follow. Gods of my country, save my house and my grandson!\nThis omen is of you. And now, my son, I refuse not to go.\u201d\n\nThen said \u00c6neas, and as he spake the fire came nearer and the light was\nclearer to see, and the heat more fierce, \u201cClimb, dear father, on my\nshoulders; I will bear thee, nor grow weary with the weight. We will be\nsaved or perish together. The little Ascanius shall go with me, and my\nwife follow behind, not over near. And ye, servants of my house, hearken\nto me; ye mind how that to one who passes out of the city there is a tomb\nand a temple of Ceres in a lonely place, and an ancient cypress tree hard\nby. There will we gather by divers ways. And do thou, my father, take the\nholy images in thy hands, for as for me, who have but newly come from\nbattle, I may not touch them till I have washed me in the running stream.\u201d\n\nAnd as he spake he put a cloak of lion\u2019s skin upon his shoulders, and\nthe old man sat thereon. Ascanius also laid hold of his hand, and\nCre\u00fcsa followed behind. So he went in much dread and trembling. For,\nindeed, before sword and spear of the enemy he had not feared, but\nnow he feared for them that were with him. But when he was come nigh\nunto the gates, and the journey was well-nigh finished, there befell a\ngrievous mischance, for there was heard a sound as of many feet through\nthe darkness; and the old man cried to him, \u201cFly, my son, fly; they are\ncoming. I see the flashing of shields and swords.\u201d But as \u00c6neas hasted\nto go, Cre\u00fcsa his wife was severed from him. But whether she wandered\nfrom the way or sat down in weariness, no man may say. Only he saw her\nno more, nor knew her to be lost till, all his company being met at the\ntemple of Ceres, she only was found wanting. Very grievous did the thing\nseem to him, nor did he cease to cry out in his wrath against gods and\nmen. Also he bade his comrades have a care of his father and his son,\nand of the household gods, and girded him again with arms, and so passed\ninto the city. And first he went to the wall and to the gate by which\nhe had come forth, and then to his house, if haply she had returned\nthither. But there, indeed, the men of Greece were come, and the fire\nhad well-nigh mastered it. And after that he went to the citadel and to\nthe palace of King Priam. And lo! in the porch of Juno\u2019s temple, Ph\u0153nix\nand Ulysses were keeping guard over the spoil, even the treasure of the\ntemples, tables of the gods, and solid cups of gold, and raiment, and a\nlong array of them that had been taken captive, children and women. But\nnot the less did he seek his wife through all the streets of the city,\nyea, and called her aloud by name. But lo! as he called, the image of\nher whom he sought seemed to stand before him, only greater than she had\nbeen while she was yet alive. And the spirit spake, saying, \u201cWhy art thou\nvainly troubled? These things have not befallen us against the pleasure\nof the gods. The ruler of Olympus willeth not that Cre\u00fcsa should bear\nthee company in thy journey. For thou hast a long journey to take, and\nmany seas to cross, till thou come to the Hesperian shore, where Lydian\nTiber flows softly through a good land and a fertile. There shalt thou\nhave great prosperity, and take to thyself a wife of royal race. Weep not\nthen for Cre\u00fcsa, whom thou lovest, nor think that I shall be carried away\nto be a bond-slave to some Grecian woman. Such fate befits not a daughter\nof Dardanus and daughter-in-law of Venus. The mighty Mother of the Gods\nkeepeth me in this land to serve her. And now, farewell, and love the\nyoung Ascanius, even thy son and mine.\u201d\n\nSo spake the spirit, and when \u00c6neas wept and would have spoken, vanished\nout of his sight. Thrice he would have cast his arms about her neck, and\nthrice the image mocked him, being thin as air and fleeting as a dream.\nThen, the night being now spent, he sought his comrades, and found with\nmuch joy and wonder that a great company of men and women were gathered\ntogether, and were willing, all of them, to follow him whithersoever he\nwent.\n\nAnd now the morning star rose over Mount Ida, and \u00c6neas, seeing that the\nGreeks held the city, and that there was no longer any hope of succor,\nwent his way to the mountains, taking his father with him.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ADVENTURE WITH THE HARPIES\n\nBy H. L. Havell\n\n\nIt was the first dawn of summer, and the green herb was already beginning\nto shoot among the blackened ruins of Troy, when the little fleet,\nbearing that shattered remnant of a mighty nation, put out into the deep.\nTears dimmed the eyes of \u00c6neas and his men as they saw their native\nshores fade away into the distance behind them. The past was all sorrow\nand the future was veiled in mystery and terror; but Heaven\u2019s eternal eye\nwas watching them, and a divine hand was held over them.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe mountains of Crete have sunk beneath the horizon, and nothing appears\nbut sea and sky, now black with clouds and lowering with impending storm.\nDown comes the wind, with sheets of rain, blotting out the view, so that\nthe helmsmen lose their bearings, and drive at random before the tempest.\nThree days and three nights they are thus hurled along at the mercy of\nthe gale; and when the weather begins to clear \u00c6neas finds himself under\nthe lee of a rocky island, one of the group called Strophades, in the\nIonian Sea. One by one his vessels come struggling in, sorely battered\nby the heavy weather; and at length they all cast anchor in a sheltered\ninlet, and the weary multitude seeks repose and refreshment in the green\nmeadows which run down to the beach, while the more active beat the\nbushes in search of game.\n\nSoon the welcome sound of lowing and bleating is heard, and a herd of fat\noxen and a flock of goats are seen feeding near at hand. The choicest of\nthe herd are speedily hemmed in and slaughtered, providing the materials\nfor a joyful feast. But in the midst of the banquet all the air grows\nloud with the sound of whirring wings, and three monstrous creatures,\nwith the bodies of birds and the faces of women, swoop down from the\nmountains, uttering discordant cries. The presence of these hideous\nbeings brings pollution to all around them, and the very meat which the\nTrojans are eating grows tainted in their mouths; for these are the foul\nHarpies, who once dwelt on the shores of Thrace and tormented the unhappy\nPhineus, but being driven away by the sons of Boreas, when the Argonauts\npassed that way on their voyage, they had taken up their abode on this\nlonely island.\n\n\u00c6neas and his company gave way before these revolting assailants, and\nresumed their interrupted meal in a spot sheltered by rocks and trees;\nbut again the Harpies came down upon them, and turned their meat into\ncarrion. They drew their swords, and strove to beat off these importunate\nguests; but their blows fell harmless, as if they had struck upon mail\nof proof; and the Harpies took wing again, and were seen towering, like\nvultures, high in air\u2014all but one, who alighted on a neighboring rock,\nand shrieked at the discomfited Trojans with a voice as frightful as her\nface.\n\n\u201cAccursed breed of an ancestor accursed, would ye add violence to\nrobbery, and drive the Harpies from their home? Then hear this oracle,\nwhich I heard from Apollo, and he from Jupiter: Your voyage is to Italy,\nand to Italy shall ye come; but, ere ever ye shall found a city there,\ndire hunger shall compel you to devour your tables, in vengeance for the\nwrong which ye have wrought upon me and my sisters.\u201d\n\nWith prayer and sacrifice they sought to avert the evil foretold them;\nand when these were ended they went on board their ships, and the south\nwind bore them from that inhospitable shore. Then Ithaca looms in view,\nthe rugged nurse of cruel Ulysses, and many a brow is bent, and many\na curse is muttered, at the mention of that hated name. At last a\ncloud-capped peak appears, and, sweeping through a rocky and perilous\nchannel, they cast anchor beneath the shadow of Apollo\u2019s temple in the\nbay of Actium.\n\nWinter is now approaching, and for some time their travels are at an end.\nThe winter was passed in rest and recreation. At the first dawn of spring\nthey broke up their camp, and skirting the coast of Epirus, put into the\nharbor of Buthrotum, on the mainland, opposite the blue mountains of\nCorfu.\n\n\n\n\nPURSUED BY THE CYCLOPS\n\nBy H. L. Havell\n\n\nLaden with rich gifts, and pursued by their kind hosts with blessings\nand tears, the children of destiny launch their ships, and at the fall\nof evening anchor under the towering headland which juts out into the\nAdriatic to meet the opposite cliffs of Italy. Here they intend to\npass the night and cross the narrow waters next day. But at midnight\nPalinurus, the captain of \u00c6neas\u2019s vessel, wakes suddenly, and, seeing\nthat the night is calm and the wind fair, gives the signal to start. With\nlevel sails they bound swiftly over the softly heaving, starlit waters,\nand every heart beats high as they draw nearer and nearer to the land of\ntheir adoption. And now the stars grew pale, and dawn flushed rosy red\non the Acroceraunian heights, while before them, in the west, appeared\na low line of misty hills. \u201cItaly!\u201d cried Achates, the trusty squire\nof \u00c6neas; and all the fleet took up the cry, till the air rang with the\nmagic name of Italy. Then Anchises filled a golden goblet with wine, and,\nstanding high on the after-deck of the vessel, poured a drink-offering to\nthe powers of land and sea, praying for a prosperous voyage and a safe\nlanding. The wind blew stronger, in answer to his prayer, and speedily\nthey saw before them an opening in the rock-bound coast, leading by a\nnarrow channel into a land-locked basin. On a lofty height, commanding\nthe haven, stood the columned temple of Minerva, and on a meadow near the\nshore four snow-white steeds were grazing. \u201cIt is a message of war,\u201d said\nAnchises; for the horse is a warlike beast.\n\nHere they may not linger, for all the coast bristles with foes. But\nbefore they turn their prows southward they veil their faces, as is the\nfashion of the Trojans, and with bowed knee and suppliant hands breathe\nthe dreaded names of Juno and Minerva.\n\nThe shores of Italy begin to fade, and far away, on the southern horizon,\nrises the fiery crest of \u00c6tna. To the right they hear an angry, moaning\nsound, which warns them that they are on the threshold of the dreaded\nSicilian strait, the abode of Scylla and Charybdis. Even at this distance\nthe billows rise to a gigantic height, threatening to swamp their\nvessels. Palinurus calls to his men to take to their oars; the rest of\nthe fleet follow his example, and, borne forward by oars and sails, they\nare soon out of the reach of danger. With sunset the wind dropped, and\nafter hours of weary toil they landed in the darkness beneath the black\nshadow of \u00c6tna, where the giant Enceladus lies chained on his uneasy\ncouch. For after the defeat of the Titans, the enormous brood of Earth,\nwho had risen up in revolt against Jove, Enceladus, the most violent of\nthese fierce rebels, was confined in a subterranean dungeon, and the\nhuge mass of \u00c6tna was flung upon his bruised limbs to keep him fast; and\nwhenever he stirs in that living grave the whole mountain quakes and\ntrembles, and fire and smoke and molten rocks are belched up through the\nthroat of the furnace.\n\nFevered was the sleep and troubled the dreams of the Trojans while their\nfleet lay moored in that fearful neighborhood. The night was black and\nstarless, and the air was full of strange sounds, as if some vast,\nprimeval monster were groaning and gasping for breath. The day dawned\nred and threatening, and \u00c6neas had given the order to embark, when out\nof the woods which clothe the lower slopes of \u00c6tna a man came slowly\nlimping, whose appearance showed him to be in the last extremity of want\nand misery. He was covered with mire, and clothed in rags, scarce held\ntogether with thorns, and his face was almost hidden by a matted growth\nof hair and beard. In such guise he came on with feeble steps, holding\nout his hands like one imploring pity and protection. When he recognized\nthe Trojan arms and dress he halted suddenly, and seemed to hesitate;\nthen, summoning resolution, he came on again with quickened steps, and\nflung himself at the knees of \u00c6neas, who had advanced to meet him. \u201cSave\nme,\u201d he cried, speaking in the Greek language, with sobs and tears;\n\u201conly take me from this horrible place, and then use me as ye will. I am\na Greek, as ye hear, and I fought with the other Greeks against Troy. If\nthat is a crime past forgiveness let me suffer for it; tear me limb from\nlimb, and fling the fragments on the waves\u2014it will be something to be\nslaughtered by human hands.\u201d\n\nTouched to the heart by that speaking image of wretchedness and\ndespair \u00c6neas raised the poor outcast from the ground, comforted him\nwith gentle words, and encouraged him to tell his story. Reassured by\nthis kind reception he informed them that he was one of the comrades\nof Ulysses, left behind in their hasty flight from the cave of the\nCyclops Polyphemus. For the hardy Ithacan had visited this island in his\nwanderings, and had put out the single eye of Polyphemus, which flamed\nlike the sun in the center of his forehead, in revenge for the murder of\nhis comrades, whom the cannibal monster had slain and devoured. For three\nmonths the unhappy castaway had skulked in the woods, supporting life on\nberries and roots, and affrighted by the ponderous tread of Polyphemus\nand his brethren, and their mighty voices, which rumbled like thunder\nover his head. Then, catching sight of the Trojan vessels, he had crept\nfrom his hiding-place, determined to trust himself to the mercy of the\nnew-comers, whoever they might be.\n\nHe had just finished his story when a sound of crashing boughs was heard,\nas if some great beast were advancing through the jungle; and in a\nmoment the giant shepherd came into view, supporting his footsteps on\nthe trunk of a tall pine. Slowly he felt his way towards the sea, that\nmonster horrible, misshapen, huge, and sightless; and when he reached\nthe margin of the bay he knelt down, and washed the oozing gore from the\ngaping pit in his brow, while groans, as of some wounded leviathan, made\nthe very waters tremble.\n\nIn wild panic the people of \u00c6neas fled to their ships, and the hollow\ncliffs resounded to the beat of a thousand oars as they made haste to\nreach the open sea. Polyphemus heard, and waded out into deep water in\nthe direction of the sound, with arms outstretched, to seize one of\nthe flying vessels. But, finding himself outpaced, he lifted up his\nvoice, and sent forth a colossal shout, which was bellowed back from the\ncaverns of \u00c6tna, and reached the far-off shores of Italy. Roused by that\ntremendous signal his brethren came rushing from the woods, and gathered\nin dread conclave, filling all the beach. Like towering oaks they stood,\nor tall cypress-trees, glaring with orbs of fire at the Trojan fleet\nand the dashing oars. But the wind blew fair, and soon that tall cohort\ndwindled to pigmy size in the distance, and the rugged outlines of \u00c6tna\ngrew fainter and fainter.\n\nAlong the eastern and southern shore of Sicily they fly, where the blue\nwaters lap softly round the feet of gently sloping hills, one day to be\nthe site of many a famous city\u2014Syracuse and Agrigentum and Gela. Having\nrounded the western cape of the island they come to anchor in the harbor\nof Drepanum.\n\nHere a great sorrow fell upon \u00c6neas; his aged father, Anchises, who\nhad followed him through all his wanderings, and cheerfully endured\nmany perils and privations, passed gently away, worn out with years and\nsorrows; and his bones were laid in foreign soil, far from the land of\nhis birth.\n\nSo far the Trojan emigrants have been suffered to proceed, slowly and by\nwinding ways, but without any direct hindrance, towards their destined\ngoal. But now a new power appears on the scene, and a hostile influence\nbegins to work against them, which will henceforth dog their footsteps\nfor many years. That power is Juno, who had ever been Troy\u2019s bitterest\nand most implacable enemy.\n\nMany causes concurred to keep alive her hatred against that devoted\nrace\u2014the judgment of Paris, who had given the prize of beauty to her\nrival, Venus; the high favor shown to Ganymede, a lovely Trojan boy,\nwhom Jupiter had made immortal, and exalted to be his cup-bearer; and\nthe ten long years of hope deferred and anxious toil when the Greeks\nwere fighting against Troy. Besides all these bitter memories, a new and\npressing occasion had lately arisen to fan the smouldering embers of\nher resentment into a blaze. On the northern coast of Africa, fronting\nthe shores of Sicily, a colony from Tyre had recently founded the city\nof Carthage, and the capricious Queen of Heaven had centered all her\naffections on the Tyrian settlement, forgetting the ancient ties which\nbound her to the Grecian states. And now she had heard a prophecy,\nforetelling that a great nation was fated to spring from the blood of\nthe Trojan exiles which should one day level the towers of Carthage with\nthe dust and found a new empire upon her ruins.\n\nSeated on her heavenly car the goddess was speeding on her way from\nCarthage, full of ambitious schemes for the rising city, when, turning\nher eyes earthward, she saw the fleet of \u00c6neas putting out from the shore\nof Sicily and heading for the Italian coast. At this unwelcome sight she\nchecked the flight of her airy steeds, and communed thus with her heart:\n\u201cThere goes the Prince of Troy, the child of fortune, and thinks to\nthwart my purpose, and bring all my plans to naught. Powers less august\nthan I can work their will, and vindicate their insulted majesty; Ajax\nblasphemed against Pallas, and in the midst of his boastings was blasted\nby Jove\u2019s fiery bolt\u2014and I, the high Queen of Heaven, the consort of\nheaven\u2019s king, must war in vain for years against this broken remnant of\na ruined race.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nVENUS SENDS \u00c6NEAS TO QUEEN DIDO\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nNot many days after \u00c6neas and his companions set sail. But scarce were\nthey out of sight of the land of Sicily when Juno had espied them. Very\nwroth was she that they should be now drawing near to the end of their\njourney, and she smote the ship with the thunderbolts of Jupiter.\u2026\n\nThen \u00c6neas and his companions, being sore wearied with the storm, made\nfor the nearest shore, even Africa, where they found a haven running far\ninto land, into which the waves come not till their force be spent.\u2026\n\nNow it came to pass on the next day that \u00c6neas, having first hidden\nhis ships in a bay that was well covered with trees, went forth to spy\nout the new land whither he was come, and Achates only went with him.\nAnd \u00c6neas had in each hand a broad-pointed spear. And as he went there\nmet him in the middle of the wood his mother, but habited as a Spartan\nvirgin, for she had hung a bow from her shoulders after the fashion of a\nhuntress, and her hair was loose, and her tunic short to the knees, and\nher garments gathered in a knot upon her breast. Then first the false\nhuntress spake, \u201cIf perchance ye have seen one of my sisters wandering\nhereabouts, make known to me the place. She is girded with a quiver, and\nis clothed with the skin of a spotted lynx, or, may be, she hunts a wild\nboar with horn and hound.\u201d\n\nTo whom \u00c6neas, \u201cI have not seen nor heard sister of thine, O virgin\u2014for\nwhat shall I call thee? for, of a surety, neither is thy look as of a\nmortal woman, nor yet thy voice. A goddess certainly thou art, sister\nof Ph\u0153bus, or, haply, one of the nymphs. But whosoever thou art, look\nfavorably upon us and help us. Tell us in what land we be, for the winds\nhave driven us hither, and we know not aught of place or people.\u201d\n\nAnd Venus said, \u201cNay, stranger I am not such as ye think. We virgins\nof Tyre are wont to carry a quiver and to wear a buskin of purple. For\nindeed it is a Tyrian city that is hard by, though the land be Libya. And\nof this city Dido is queen, having come hither from Tyre, flying from the\nwrong-doing of her brother. And indeed the story of the thing is long,\nbut I will recount the chief matter thereof to thee. The husband of this\nDido was one Sich\u00e6us, richest among all the men of Ph\u0153nicia, and greatly\nbeloved of his wife. Now the brother of this Sich\u00e6us was Pygmalion, the\nking of the country, and he exceeded all men in wickedness. And when\nthere arose a quarrel between them, the king, being exceedingly mad after\ngold, took him unaware, even as he did sacrifice at the altar, and slew\nhim. And the king hid the matter many days from Dido, and cheated her\nwith false hopes. But at the last there came to her in her dreams the\nlikeness of the dead man, baring his wounds and showing the wickedness\nwhich had been done. Also he bade her make haste and fly from that land,\nand, that she might do this the more easily, told her of great treasure,\ngold and silver, that was hidden in the earth. And Dido, being much moved\nby these things, made ready for flight; also she sought for companions,\nand there came together to her all as many as hated the king or feared\nhim. Then did they seize ships that chanced to be ready and laded them\nwith gold, even the treasure of King Pygmalion, and so fled across the\nsea. And in all this was a woman the leader. Then came they to this\nplace, where thou seest the walls and citadel of Carthage, and bought so\nmuch land as they could cover with a bull\u2019s hide. And now do ye answer me\nthis, Whence come ye, and whither do ye go?\u201d\n\nThen answered \u00c6neas, \u201cShould I tell the whole story of our wanderings,\nand thou have leisure to hear, evening would come ere I could make an\nend. We are men of Troy, who, having journeyed over many seas, have now\nbeen driven by storms to this shore of Libya. And as for me, men call\nme Prince \u00c6neas. The land I seek is Italy, and my race is from Jupiter\nhimself. With twenty ships did I set sail, going in the way whereof the\ngods sent me. And of these scarce seven are left. And now, seeing that\nEurope and Asia endure me not, I wander over the desert places of Africa.\u201d\n\nBut Venus suffered him not to speak more, but said, \u201cWhoever thou art,\nstranger, that art come to this Tyrian city, thou art surely beloved by\nthe gods. And now go, show thyself to the queen. And as for thy ships and\nthy companions, I tell thee that they are safe in the haven, if I have\nnot learnt augury in vain. See those twenty swans, how joyously they fly!\nAnd now there cometh an eagle swooping down from the sky, putting them to\nconfusion, but now again they move in due order, and some are settling on\nthe earth and some are preparing to settle. Even so doth it fare with thy\nships, for either are they already in the haven or enter thereinto with\nsails full set.\u201d\n\nAnd as she spake she turned away, and there shone a rosy light from her\nneck, also there came from her hair a sweet savor as of ambrosia, and\nher garments grew under her feet; and \u00c6neas perceived that she was his\nmother and cried aloud\u2014\n\n\u201cO my mother, why dost thou mock me so often with false shows, nor\nsufferest me to join my hand onto thy hand, and to speak with thee face\nto face?\u201d\n\nAnd he went towards the walls of the city. But Venus covered him and his\ncompanions with a mist, that no man might see them, or hinder them, or\ninquire of their business, and then departed to Paphos, where was her\ntemple and also many altars of incense. Then the men hastened on their\nway, and mounting a hill which hung over the city, marveled to behold it,\nfor indeed it was very great and noble, with mighty gates and streets,\nand a multitude that walked therein. For some built the walls and the\ncitadel, rolling great stones with their hands, and others marked out\nplaces for houses. Also they chose those that should give judgment and\nbear rule in the city. Some, too, digged out harbors, and others laid the\nfoundations of a theatre, and cut out great pillars of stone. Like to\nbees they were, when, the summer being newly come, the young swarms go\nforth, or when they labor filling the cells with honey, and some receive\nthe burdens of those that return from the fields, and others keep off the\ndrones from the hive. Even so labored the men of Tyre. And when \u00c6neas\nbeheld them he cried: \u201cHappy ye, who even now have a city to dwell in!\u201d\nAnd being yet hidden by the mist, he went in at the gate and mingled with\nthe men, being seen of none.\n\nNow, in the midst of the city was a wood, very thick with trees, and\nhere the men of Carthage, first come to the land from their voyage,\nhad digged out of the ground that which Juno had said should be a sign\nto them, even a horse\u2019s head; for that, finding this, their city would\nbe mighty in war, and full of riches. Here, then, Dido was building a\ntemple to Juno, very splendid, with threshold of bronze, and many steps\nthereunto; of bronze also were the doorposts and the gates. And here\nbefell a thing which gave much comfort and courage to \u00c6neas; for, as he\nstood and regarded the place, waiting also for the queen, he saw set\nforth in order upon the walls the battles that had been fought at Troy,\nthe sons of Atreus also, and King Priam, and fierce Achilles. Then said\nhe, not without tears, \u201cIs there any land, O Achates, that is not filled\nwith our sorrows? Seest thou Priam? Yet withal there is a reward for\nvirtue here also, and tears and pity for the troubles of men. Fear not,\ntherefore. Surely the fame of these things shall profit us.\u201d\n\nThen he looked, satisfying his soul with the paintings on the walls. For\nthere was the city of Troy. In this part of the field the Greeks fled\nand the youth of Troy pursued them, and in that the men of Troy fled,\nand Achilles followed hard upon them in his chariot. Also he saw the\nwhite tents of Rhesus, King of Thrace, whom the fierce Diomed slew in his\nsleep, when he was newly come to Troy, and drave his horses to the camp\nbefore they ate of the grass of the fields of Troy or drank the waters of\nXanthus. There also Tro\u00eflus was pictured, ill-matched in battle with the\ngreat Achilles. His horses bare him along; but he lay on his back in the\nchariot, yet holding the reins, and his neck and head were dragged upon\nthe earth, and the spear-point made a trail in the dust. And in another\nplace the women of Troy went suppliant-wise to the temple of Minerva,\nbearing a great and beautiful robe, sad and beating their breasts, and\nwith hair unbound; but the goddess regarded them not. Also Achilles\ndragged the body of Hector three times round the walls of Troy, and was\nselling it for gold. And \u00c6neas groaned when he saw the man whom he loved,\nand the old man Priam reaching out helpless hands. Also he knew himself,\nfighting in the midst of the Grecian chiefs; black Memnon also he knew,\nand the hosts of the East; and Penthesilea leading the army of the\nAmazons with shields shaped as the moon. Fierce she was to see, with one\nbreast bared for battle, and a golden girdle beneath it, a damsel daring\nto fight with men.\n\n\n\n\nQUEEN DIDO WELCOMES \u00c6NEAS\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nBut while \u00c6neas marvelled to see these things, lo! there came, with a\ngreat throng of youths behind her, Dido, most beautiful of women, fair\nas Diana, when, on the banks of Eurotas or on the hills of Cynthus, she\nleads the dance with a thousand nymphs of the mountains about her. On\nher shoulder she bears a quiver, and overtops them all, and her mother,\neven Latona, silently rejoices to behold her. So fair and seemly to see\nwas Dido as she bare herself right nobly in the midst, being busy in the\nwork of her kingdom. Then she sat herself down on a lofty throne in the\ngate of the temple, with many armed men about her. And she did justice\nbetween man and man; also she divided the work of the city, sharing it\nequally or parting it by lot.\n\nThen of a sudden \u00c6neas heard a great clamor, and saw a company of men\ncome quickly to the place, among whom were Antheus and Sergestus and\nCloanthus, and others of the men of Troy that had been parted from him in\nthe storm. Right glad was he to behold them, yet was not without fear;\nand though he would fain have come forth and caught them by the hand, yet\ndid he tarry, waiting to hear how the men had fared, where they had left\ntheir ships, and wherefore they were come.\n\nThen Ilioneus, leave being now given that he should speak, thus began:\n\u201cO queen, whom Jupiter permits to build a new city in these lands, we\nmen of Troy, whom the winds have carried over many seas, pray thee that\nthou save our ships from fire, and spare a people that serveth the gods.\nFor, indeed, we are not come to waste the dwellings of this land, or to\ncarry off spoils to our ships. For, of a truth, they who have suffered\nso much think not of such deeds. There is a land which the Greeks call\nHesperia, but the people themselves Italy, after the name of their chief;\nan ancient land, mighty in arms and fertile of corn. Hither we were\njourneying, when a storm arising scattered our ships, and only these few\nthat thou seest escaped to the land. And can there be nation so savage\nthat it receiveth not shipwrecked men on its shore, but beareth arms\nagainst them, and forbiddeth them to land? Nay, but if ye care not for\nmen, yet regard the gods, who forget neither them that do righteously nor\nthem that transgress. We had a king, \u00c6neas, than whom there lived not a\nman more dutiful to gods and men, and greater in war. If indeed he be yet\nalive, then we fear not at all. For of a truth it will not repent thee to\nhave helped us. And if not, other friends have we, as Acestes of Sicily.\nGrant us, therefore, to shelter our ships from the wind; also to fit them\nwith fresh timber from the woods, and to make ready oars for rowing, so\nthat, finding again our king and our companions, we may gain the land of\nItaly. But if he be dead, and Ascanius his son lost also, then there is\na dwelling ready for us in the land of Sicily, with Acestes, who is our\nfriend.\u201d\n\nThen Dido, her eyes bent on the ground, thus spake: \u201cFear not, men of\nTroy. If we have seemed to deal harshly with you, pardon us, seeing\nthat, being newly settled in this land, we must keep watch and ward over\nour coasts. But as for the men of Troy, and their deeds in arms, who\nknows them not? Think not that we in Carthage are so dull of heart, or\ndwell so remote from man, that we are ignorant of these things. Whether,\ntherefore, ye will journey to Italy, or rather return to Sicily and\nKing Acestes, know that I will give you all help, and protect you; or,\nif ye will, settle in this land of ours. Yours is this city which I am\nbuilding. I will make no difference between man of Troy and man of Tyre.\nWould that your king also were here! Surely I will send those that seek\nhim in all parts of Libya, lest haply he should be gone astray in any\nforest or strange city of the land.\u201d\n\nAnd when \u00c6neas and Achates heard these things they were glad, and would\nhave come forth from the cloud, and Achates said, \u201cWhat thinkest thou?\nLo, thy comrades are safe, saving him whom we saw with our own eyes\ndrowned in the waves; and all other things are according as thy mother\nsaid.\u201d\n\nAnd even as he spake the cloud parted from about them, and \u00c6neas stood\nforth, very bright to behold, with face and breast as of a god, for\nhis mother had given to him hair beautiful to see, and cast about him\nthe purple light of youth, even as a workman sets ivory in some fair\nornament, or compasseth about silver or marble of Paros with gold. Then\nspake he to the queen, \u201cLo! I am he whom ye seek, even \u00c6neas of Troy,\nscarcely saved from the waters of the sea. And as for thee, O queen,\nseeing that thou only hast been found to pity the unspeakable sorrows\nof Troy, and biddest us, though we be but poor exiles and lacking all\nthings, to share thy city and thy home, may the gods do so to thee as\nthou deservest. And, of a truth, so long as the rivers run to the seas,\nand the shadows fall on the hollows of the hills, so long will thy name\nand thy glory survive, whatever be the land to which the gods shall\nbring me.\u201d Then gave he his right hand to Ilioneus, and his left hand to\nSergestus, and greeted them with great joy.\n\nAnd Dido, hearing these things, was silent for a while, but at the last\nshe spake: \u201cWhat ill fortune brings thee into perils so great? What\npower drave thee to these savage shores? Well do I mind me how in days\ngone by there came to Sidon one Teucer, who, having been banished from\nhis country, sought help from Belus that he might find a kingdom for\nhimself. And it chanced that in those days Belus, my father, had newly\nconquered the land of Cyprus. From that day did I know the tale of Troy,\nand thy name also, and the chiefs of Greece. Also I remember that Teucer\nspake honorably of the men of Troy, saying that he was himself sprung of\nthe old Teucrian stock. Come ye, therefore, to my palace. I, too, have\nwandered far, even as you, and so have come to this land, and having\nsuffered much have learnt to succor them that suffer.\u201d\n\nSo saying she led \u00c6neas into her palace; also she sent to his companions\nin the ships great store of provisions, even twenty oxen and a hundred\nbristly swine and a hundred ewe sheep with their lambs. But in the palace\na great feast was set forth, couches covered with broidered purple, and\nsilver vessels without end, and cups of gold, whereon were embossed the\nmighty deeds of the men of old time.\n\nAnd in the meantime \u00c6neas sent Achates in haste to the ships, that he\nmight fetch Ascanius to the feast. Also he bade that the boy should\nbring with him gifts of such things as they had saved from the ruins\nof Troy, a mantle stiff with broidery of gold and a veil bordered with\nyellow acanthus, which the fair Helen had taken with her, flying from her\nhome; but Leda, her mother, had given them to Helen; a scepter likewise\nwhich Ilione, first-born of the daughters of Priam, had carried, and a\nnecklace of pearls and a double crown of jewels and gold.\n\nBut Venus was troubled in heart, fearing evil to her son should the men\nof Tyre be treacherous, after their wont, and Juno remember her wrath.\nWherefore, taking counsel with herself, she called to the winged boy,\neven Love, that was her son, and spake, \u201cMy son, who art all my power and\nstrength, who laughest at the thunders of Jupiter, thou knowest how Juno,\nbeing exceedingly wroth against thy brother \u00c6neas, causeth him to wander\nout of the way over all lands. This day Dido hath him in her palace, and\nspeaketh him fair; but I fear me much how these things may end. Wherefore\nhear thou that which I purpose. Thy brother hath even now sent for the\nboy Ascanius, that he may come to the palace, bringing with him gifts of\nsuch things as they saved from the ruins of Troy. Him will I cause to\nfall into a deep sleep, and hide in Cythera or Idalium, and do thou for\none night take upon thee his likeness. And when Queen Dido at the feast\nshall hold thee in her lap, and kiss and embrace thee, do thou breathe by\nstealth thy fire into her heart.\u201d\n\nThen did Love as his mother bade him, and put off his wings, and took\nupon him the shape of Ascanius, but on the boy Venus caused there to\nfall a deep sleep, and carried him to the woods of Idalium, and lapped\nhim in sweet-smelling flowers. And in his stead Love carried the gifts\nto the queen. And when he was come they sat down to the feast, the queen\nbeing in the midst under a canopy. \u00c6neas also and the men of Troy lay\non coverlets of purple, to whom serving-men brought water and bread in\nbaskets and napkins; and within fifty handmaids were ready to replenish\nthe store of victuals and to fan the fire; and a hundred others, with\npages as many, loaded the tables with dishes and drinking-cups. Many men\nof Tyre also were bidden to the feast. Much they marvelled at the gifts\nof \u00c6neas, and much at the false Ascanius. Dido also could not satisfy\nherself with looking on him, nor knew what trouble he was preparing for\nher in the time to come. And he, having first embraced the father who\nwas not his father, and clung about his neck, addressed himself to Queen\nDido, and she ever followed him with her eyes, and sometimes would hold\nhim on her lap. And still he worked upon her that she should forget the\ndead Sich\u00e6us and conceive a new love in her heart.\n\nBut when they first paused from the feast, lo! men set great bowls upon\nthe table and filled them to the brim with wine. Then did the queen call\nfor a great vessel of gold, with many jewels upon it, from which Belus,\nand all the kings from Belus, had drunk, and called for wine, and having\nfilled it she cried, \u201cO Jupiter, whom they call the god of hosts and\nguests, cause that this be a day of joy for the men of Troy, and for\nthem of Tyre, and that our children remember it forever. Also Bacchus,\ngiver of joy, be present, and kindly Juno.\u201d And when she had touched\nthe wine with her lips, she handed the great cup to Prince Bitias, who\ndrank thereout a mighty draught, and the other princes after him. Then\nthe minstrel Iopas, whom Atlas himself had taught, sang to the harp,\nof the moon, how she goes on her way, and of the sun, how his light is\ndarkened. He sang also of men, and of the beasts of the field, whence\nthey come; and of the stars, Arcturus, and the Greater Bear and the Less,\nand the Hyades; and of the winter sun, why he hastens to dip himself in\nthe ocean; and of the winter nights, why they tarry so long. The queen\nalso talked much of the story of Troy, of Priam, and of Hector, asking\nmany things, as of the arms of Memnon, and of the horses of Diomed, and\nof Achilles, how great he was. And at last she said to \u00c6neas, \u201cTell us\nnow thy story, how Troy was taken, and thy wanderings over land and sea.\u201d\nAnd \u00c6neas made answer, \u201cNay, O queen, but thou biddest me renew a sorrow\nunspeakable. Yet, if thou art minded to hear these things, hearken.\u201d And\nhe told her all that had befallen him, even to the day when his father\nAnchises died.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LOVE AND DEATH OF QUEEN DIDO\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nMuch was Queen Dido moved by the story, and much did she marvel at him\nthat told it, and scarce could sleep for thinking of him. And the next\nday she spake to Anna, her sister, \u201cO my sister, I have been troubled\nthis night with ill dreams, and my heart is disquieted within me. What\na man is this stranger that hath come to our shores! How noble of\nmien! How bold in war! Sure I am that he is of the sons of the gods.\nWhat fortunes have been his! Of what wars he told us! Surely were I\nnot steadfastly purposed that I would not yoke me again in marriage,\nthis were the man to whom I might yield. Only he\u2014for I will tell thee\nthe truth, my sister\u2014only he, since the day when Sich\u00e6us died by his\nbrother\u2019s hand, hath moved my heart. But may the earth swallow me up,\nor the Almighty Father strike me with lightning, ere I stoop to such\nbaseness. The husband of my youth hath carried with him my love, and he\nshall keep it in the grave.\u201d\n\nSo she spake, with many tears. And her sister made answer, \u201cWhy wilt thou\nwaste thy youth in sorrow, without child or husband? Thinkest thou that\nthere is care or remembrance of such things in the grave? No suitors,\nindeed, have pleased thee here or in Tyre, but wilt thou also contend\nwith a love that is after thine own heart? Think too of the nations among\nwhom thou dwellest, how fierce they are, and of thy brother at Tyre, what\nhe threatens against thee. Surely it was by the will of the gods, and of\nJuno chiefly, that the ships of Troy came hither. And this city, which\nthou buildest, to what greatness will it grow if only thou wilt make for\nthyself such alliance! How great will be the glory of Carthage if the\nstrength of Troy be joined unto her! Only do thou pray to the gods and\noffer sacrifices; and, for the present, seeing that the time of sailing\nis now past, make excuse that these strangers tarry with thee a while.\u201d\n\nThus did Anna comfort her sister and encourage her. And first the two\noffered sacrifice to the gods, chiefly to Juno, who careth for the bond\nof marriage.\n\nAlso, examining the entrails of slain beasts, they sought to learn the\nthings that should happen thereafter. And ever Dido would company with\n\u00c6neas, leading him about the walls of the city which she builded. And\noften she would begin to speak and stay in the midst of her words. And\nwhen even was come, she would hear again and again at the banquet the\ntale of Troy, and while others slept would watch, and while he was far\naway would seem to see him and to hear him. Ascanius, too, she would\nembrace for love of his father, if so she might cheat her own heart. But\nthe work of the city was stayed meanwhile; nor did the towers rise in\ntheir places, nor the youth practice themselves in arms.\n\nThen Juno, seeing how it fared with the queen, spake to Venus, \u201cAre ye\nsatisfied with your victory, thou and thy son, that ye have vanquished\nthe two of you one woman? Well I knew that thou fearedst lest this\nCarthage should harm thy favorite. But why should there be war between\nus? Thou hast what thou seekedst. Let us make alliance. Let Dido obey a\nPhrygian husband, and bring the men of Tyre as her dowry.\u201d\n\nBut Venus knew that she spake with ill intent, to the end that the men of\nTroy should not reign in the land of Italy. Nevertheless she dissembled\nwith her tongue, and spake, \u201cWho would not rather have peace with thee\nthan war? Only I doubt whether this thing shall be to the pleasure of\nJupiter. This thou must learn, seeing that thou art his wife, and where\nthou leadest I will follow.\u201d\n\nSo the two, taking counsel together, ordered things in this wise. The\nnext day a great hunting was prepared. For as soon as ever the sun was\nrisen upon the earth, the youth of the city assembled with nets and\nhunting spears and dogs that ran by scent. And the princes of Carthage\nwaited for the queen at the palace door, where her horse stood champing\nthe bit, with trappings of purple and gold. And after a while she came\nforth, with many following her. And she had upon her a Sidonian mantle,\nwith a border wrought with divers colors; of gold was her quiver, and of\ngold the knot of her hair, and of gold the clasp to her mantle. \u00c6neas\nlikewise came forth, beautiful as is Apollo when he leaveth Lydia and\nthe stream of Xanthus, coming to Delos, and hath about his hair a wreath\nof bay-leaves and a circlet of gold. So fair was \u00c6neas to see. And when\nthe hunters came to the hills they found great store of goats and stags,\nwhich they chased. And of all the company Ascanius was the foremost,\nthinking scorn of such hunting, and wishing that a wild boar or a lion\nout of the hills should come forth to be his prey.\n\nAnd now befell a great storm, with much thunder and hail, from which the\nhunters sought shelter.\n\nBut \u00c6neas and the queen, being left of all their company, came together\nto the same cave. And there they plighted their troth one to another. Nor\ndid the queen after that make secret of her love, but called \u00c6neas her\nhusband.\n\nStraightway went Rumor and told these things through the cities of Libya.\nNow Rumor, men say, is the youngest daughter of Earth, a marvellous\ncreature, moving very swiftly with feet and wings, and having many\nfeathers upon her, and under every feather an eye and a tongue and a\nmouth and an ear. In the night she flieth between heaven and earth, and\nsleepeth not; and in the day she sitteth on some housetop or lofty tower,\nor spreadeth fear over mighty cities; and she loveth that which is false\neven as she loveth that which is true. So now she went telling through\nLibya how \u00c6neas of Troy was come, and Dido was wedded to him, and how\nthey lived careless and at ease, and thinking not of the work to which\nthey were called.\n\nAnd first of all she went to Prince Iarbas, who himself had sought Dido\nin marriage. And Iarbas was very wroth when he heard it, and, coming to\nthe temple of Jupiter, spread his grief before the god, how that he had\ngiven a place on his coasts to this Dido, and would have taken her to\nwife, but that she had married a stranger from Phrygia, another Paris,\nwhose dress and adornments were of a woman rather than of a man.\n\nAnd Jupiter saw that this was so, and he said to Mercury, who was his\nmessenger, \u201cGo speak to \u00c6neas these words: \u2018Thus saith the King of Gods\nand Men. Is this what thy mother promised of thee, twice saving thee from\nthe spear of the Greeks? Art thou he that shall rule Italy and its mighty\nmen of war, and spread thy dominion to the ends of the world? If thou\nthyself forgettest these things, dost thou grudge to thy son the citadels\nof Rome? What doest thou here? Why, lookest thou not to Italy? Depart\nand tarry not.\u2019\u201d\n\nThen Mercury fitted the winged sandals to his feet, and took the wand\nwith which he driveth the spirits of the dead, and came right soon to\nMount Atlas, which standeth bearing the heaven on his head, and having\nalways clouds about his top, and snow upon his shoulders, and a beard\nthat is stiff with ice. There Mercury stood a while; then, as a bird\nwhich seeks its prey in the sea, shot headlong down, and came to \u00c6neas\nwhere he stood with a yellow jasper in his sword-hilt, and a cloak of\npurple shot with gold about his shoulders, and spake: \u201cBuildest thou\nCarthage, forgetting thine own work? The Almighty Father saith to thee,\n\u2018What meanest thou? Why tarriest thou here? If thou carest not for\nthyself, yet think of thy son, and that the Fates have given to him Italy\nand Rome.\u2019\u201d\n\nAnd \u00c6neas saw him no more. And he stood stricken with fear and doubt.\nFain would he obey the voice, and go as the gods commanded. But how\nshould he tell this purpose to the queen? But at the last it seemed\ngood to him to call certain of the chiefs, as Mnestheus, and Sergestus,\nand Antheus, and bid them make ready the ships in silence, and gather\ntogether the people, but dissemble the cause, and he himself would watch\na fitting time to speak and unfold the matter to the queen.\n\nYet was not Dido deceived, for love is keen of sight. Rumor also told\nher that they made ready the ships for sailing. Then, flying through the\ncity, even as one on whom has come the frenzy of Bacchus flies by night\nover Mount Cith\u00e6ron, she came upon \u00c6neas, and spake: \u201cThoughtest thou to\nhide thy crime, and to depart in silence from this land? Carest thou not\nfor her whom thou leavest to die? And hast thou no fear of winter storms\nthat vex the sea? By all that I have done for thee and given thee, if\nthere be yet any place for repentance, repent thee of this purpose. For\nthy sake I suffer the wrath of the princes of Libya and of my own people;\nand if thou leavest me, for what should I live?\u2014till my brother overthrow\nmy city, or Iarbas carry me away captive? If but I had a little \u00c6neas to\nplay in my halls, I should not seem so altogether desolate.\u201d\n\nBut \u00c6neas, fearing the words of Jupiter, stood with eyes that relented\nnot. At the last he spake: \u201cI deny not, O queen, the benefits that thou\nhast done unto me, nor ever, while I live, shall I forget Dido. I sought\nnot to fly by stealth; yet did I never promise that I would abide in\nthis place. Could I have chosen according to my will I had built again\nthe city of Troy where it stood; but the gods command that I should seek\nItaly. Thou hast thy Carthage; why dost thou grudge Italy to us? Nor may\nI tarry. Night after night have I seen my father Anchises warning me in\ndreams. Also even now the messenger of Jupiter came to me\u2014with these ears\nI heard him\u2014and bade me depart.\u201d\n\nThen, in great wrath, with eyes askance, did Dido break forth upon him:\n\u201cSurely no goddess was thy mother, nor art thou come of the race of\nDardanus. The rocks of Caucasus brought thee forth, and an Hyrcanian\ntigress fed thee. For why should I dissemble? Was he moved at all my\ntears? Did he pity my love? Nay, the very gods are against me. This man\nI took to myself when he was shipwrecked and ready to perish. I brought\nback his ships, his companions from destruction. And now, forsooth, comes\nthe messenger of Jupiter with dreadful commands from the gods. As for\nthee, I keep thee not. Go, seek thy Italy across the seas: only, if there\nis any vengeance in heaven, thou wilt pay the penalty for this wrong,\nbeing wrecked on some rock in their midst. Then wilt thou call on Dido in\nvain. Aye, and wherever thou shalt go I will haunt thee, and rejoice in\nthe dwellings below to hear thy doom.\u201d\n\nThen she turned, and hastened to go into the house. But her spirit left\nher, so that her maidens bare her to her chamber and laid her on her bed.\n\nThen \u00c6neas, though indeed he was much troubled in heart, and would fain\nhave comforted the queen, was obedient to the heavenly word, and departed\nto his ships. And the men of Troy busied themselves in making them ready\nfor the voyage. Even as the ants spoil a great heap of corn and store\nit in their dwellings against winter, moving in a black line across the\nfield, and some carry the great grains, and some chide those that linger,\neven so did the Trojans swarm along the ways and labor at the work.\n\nBut when Dido saw it she called to Anna her sister, and said, \u201cSeest thou\nhow they hasten the work along the shore? Even now the sails are ready\nfor the winds, and the sailors have wreathed the ships with garlands, as\nif for departure. Go thou\u2014the deceiver always trusted thee, and thou\nknowest how best to move him\u2014go and entreat him. I harmed not him nor\nhis people; let him then grant me this only. Let him wait for a fairer\ntime for his journey. I ask not that he give up his purpose; only that\nhe grant me a short breathing space, till I may learn how to bear this\nsorrow.\u201d\n\nAnd Anna hearkened to her sister, and took the message to \u00c6neas, yet\nprofited nothing, for the gods shut his ears that he should not hear.\nEven as an oak stands firm when the north wind would root it up from the\nearth\u2014its leaves are scattered all round, yet doth it remain firm, for\nits roots go down to the regions below, even as far as its branches reach\nto heaven\u2014so stood \u00c6neas firm, and, though he wept many tears, changed\nnot his purpose.\n\nThen did Dido grow weary of her life. For when she did sacrifice, the\npure water would grow black, and the wine be changed into blood. Also\nfrom the shrine of her husband, which was in the midst of her palace, was\nheard a voice calling her, and the owl cried aloud from the housetop.\nAnd in her dreams the cruel \u00c6neas seemed to drive her before him; or\nshe seemed to be going a long way with none to bear her company, and be\nseeking her own people in a land that was desert. Therefore, hiding the\nthing that was in her heart, she spake to her sister, saying, \u201cI have\nfound a way, my sister, that shall bring him back to me, or set me free\nfrom him. Near the shore of the great sea, where the \u00c6thiopians dwell, is\na priestess, who guards the temple of the daughters of Hesperus, being\nwont to feed the dragons that kept the apples of gold. She is able\nby her charms to loose the heart from care or to bind it, and to stay\nrivers also, and to turn the courses of the stars, and to call up the\nspirits of the dead. Do thou, therefore\u2014for this is what the priestess\ncommands\u2014build a pile in the open court, and put thereon the sword which\nhe left hanging in our chamber, and the garments he wore, and the couch\non which he lay, even all that was his, so that they may perish together.\u201d\n\nAnd when these things were done\u2014for Anna knew not of her purpose\u2014and also\nan image of \u00c6neas was laid upon the pile, the priestess, with her hair\nunbound, called upon all the gods that dwell below, sprinkling thereon\nwater that was drawn, she said, from the lake of Avernus, and scattering\nevil herbs, that had been cut at the full moon with a sickle of bronze.\nDido also, with one foot bare and her garments loosened, threw meal upon\nthe fire and called upon the gods, if haply there be any, that look upon\nthose that love and suffer wrong.\n\nAnd now it was morning, and Queen Dido, from her watch-tower, saw the\nships upon the sea. Then she smote upon her breast and tore her hair, and\ncried: \u201cShall this stranger mock us thus? Hasten to follow him. Bring\ndown the ships from the docks, make ready sword and fire. And this was\nthe man who bare upon his shoulders his aged father! Why did I not tear\nhim to pieces, and slay his companions with the sword, and serve up the\nyoung Ascanius at his meal? And if I had perished, what then? for I die\nto-day. O Sun, that regardest all the earth, and Juno, that carest for\nmarriage bonds, and Hecate, Queen of the Dead, and ye Furies that take\nvengeance on evil doers, hear me! If it be ordered that he reach this\nland, yet grant that he suffer many things from his enemies, and be\ndriven from his city, and beg for help from strangers, and see his people\ncruelly slain with the sword; and, when he shall have made peace on ill\nconditions, that he enjoy not long his kingdom, but die before his day,\nand lie unburied on the plain. And ye, men of Tyre, hate his children and\nhis people forever. Let there be no love or peace between you. And may\nsome avenger arise from my grave who shall persecute the race of Dardanus\nwith fire and sword. So shall there be war forever between him and me.\u201d\n\nThen she spake to old Barc\u00e9, who had been nurse to her husband Sich\u00e6us:\n\u201cBid my sister bathe herself in water, and bring with her beasts for\nsacrifice. And do thou also put a garland about thy head, for I am minded\nto finish this sacrifice which I have begun, and to burn the image of the\nman of Troy.\u201d\n\nAnd when the old woman made haste to do her bidding, Queen Dido ran\nto the court where the pile was made for the burning, and mounted on\nthe pile, and drew the sword of \u00c6neas from the scabbard. Then did she\nthrow herself upon the bed, and cry: \u201cNow do I yield up my life. I have\nfinished my course. I have built a mighty city. I have avenged my husband\non him that slew him. Happy had I been\u2014yea, too happy! had the ships of\nTroy never come to this land.\u201d Then she kissed the bed and cried: \u201cShall\nI die unavenged? Nevertheless let me die. The man of Troy shall see this\nfire from the sea whereon he journeys, and carry with him an augury of\ndeath.\u201d\n\nAnd when her maidens looked, lo! she had fallen upon the sword, and the\nblood was upon her hands. And a great cry went up through the palace,\nexceeding loud and bitter, even as if the enemy had taken Carthage or\nancient Tyre, and the fire were mounting over the dwellings of men and\nof gods. And Anna, her sister, heard it, and rushing through the midst\ncalled her by name: \u201cO my sister, was this thy purpose? Were the pile\nand the sword and the fire for this? Why wouldst thou not suffer that I\nshould die with thee? For surely, my sister, thou hast slain thyself, and\nme, and thy people, and thy city. But give me water, ye maidens, that I\nmay wash her wounds, and if there be any breath left in her, we may yet\nstay it.\u201d\n\nThen she climbed on to the pile, and caught her sister in her arms, and\nsought to staunch the blood with her garments. Three times did Dido\nstrive to raise her eyes; three times did her spirit leave her. Three\ntimes she would have raised herself upon her elbow; three times she\nfell back upon the bed, looking with wandering eyes for the light, and\ngroaning that she yet beheld it.\n\nThen Juno, looking down from heaven, saw that her pain was long, and\npitied her, and sent down Iris her messenger, that she might loose the\nsoul that struggled to be free. For, seeing that she died, not by nature,\nnor yet by the hand of man, but before her time, and of her own madness,\nQueen Proserpine had not shred the ringlet from her head which she shreds\nfrom them that die. Wherefore Iris, flying down with dewy wings from\nheaven, with a thousand colors about her from the light of the sun, stood\nabove her head and said: \u201cI give thee to death, even as I am bidden, and\nloose thee from thy body.\u201d Then she shred the lock, and Queen Dido gave\nup the ghost.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RACE OF THE FOUR GALLEYS\n\nBy H. L. Havell\n\n\nOn the night when Dido was keeping her last sorrowful vigil \u00c6neas lay\nsleeping on the deck of his galley, having made all things ready for a\nstart next day. But in his dreams he saw the youthful form of Mercury\nstanding by him, perfect in grace and beauty, and heard these warning\nwords: \u201cCanst thou sleep, \u00c6neas, on the very brink of peril? Away, fly\nfrom this coast, before thy path is beset with sword and brand. A woman\u2019s\nheart is a fickle and slippery thing.\u201d\n\n\u00c6neas started from his couch in affright, and cried to his men: \u201cUp,\ncomrades; take your oars, and let us be gone. A second time I have heard\nthe voice of a god, and again the word is _Fly!_\u201d And, drawing his\nsword, he cut the rope which moored his vessel to the shore. Swiftly the\nbenches were manned, the calm waters eddied and roared under their sturdy\nstrokes, and the whole fleet, urged by one impulse, swept out to sea.\n\nThe wind blew fair, and the towers of Carthage were already sinking\nbeneath the horizon, when a great column of smoke shot up from the\ndirection of Carthage, checkered by tongues of fire. It was the funeral\npyre on which Dido\u2019s body was burning; but the Trojans knew not this,\nand thinking that perhaps it was a signal to summon the Tyrian fleet for\npursuit they redoubled their efforts, until the smoke column dwindled to\na speck, and vanished, and nothing remained in view but sea and sky.\n\nMeanwhile the wind had shifted to the north, the sky became overcast, and\nthe waves grew black and threatening. Palinurus, the captain of the royal\nvessel, after anxiously scrutinizing the signs of the weather, came to\n\u00c6neas, and said: \u201cMy lord, if Jupiter himself were my warrant, I could\nnot hope to reach Italy in this wind. Everything forebodes a storm, and\nmy counsel is that we run for shelter to the friendly harbor of Eryx, on\nthe north coast of Sicily, where we are sure of a brotherly welcome. It\nis close at hand, unless my seamanship is at fault.\u201d\n\n\u00c6neas was well disposed on all accounts to take the advice of his pilot;\nfor Eryx was a Trojan settlement, which they had already visited on their\nvoyage from Epirus; and here too his father Anchises had found his last\nresting place. Accordingly the order was given, and, running before the\nwind, they soon reached the shelter of the high cliffs which guarded the\nharbor of Eryx.\n\nAs they approached the shore they saw a stalwart warrior standing ready\nto receive them, grimly attired in a bearskin, and bristling with\nweapons. \u201cIt is my old friend Acestes,\u201d said \u00c6neas, with a smile, \u201cwhose\nheart is as kind as his aspect is threatening.\u201d True to this description\nof his character, Acestes hails his wandering countrymen with a hearty\ngreeting, and entertains them with princely hospitality.\n\nNext day was the anniversary of the death of Anchises, which was\ncelebrated by \u00c6neas and his men with splendid pomp, and offerings of\nblood and wine and milk at the tomb. When all rites had been duly paid\n\u00c6neas made proclamation of a great series of games, to be held on the\nninth day following, and invited all the subjects of Acestes to take part\nwith the Trojans in the friendly contest.\n\nOn the day appointed a vast multitude assembled, and took their station\non the cliffs to witness the first event, in which four of the Trojan\ngalleys were to race to a rocky island, some distance from the shore, and\nback again to the mainland. The crews of the vessels\u2014the _Pristis_, the\n_Chim\u00e6ra_, the _Centaur_, and the _Scylla_\u2014were mustered in their places;\nand the captains, brave in their purple uniforms, stood conspicuous on\nthe after-decks, glancing critically at their brawny crews, who sat,\nstripped to the waist, grasping their oars, and waiting for the signal.\n\nThere was a breathless pause, then a loud blast from a trumpet rang out\nfor the start, and the four galleys darted out with level prows for the\nopen sea, while a tremendous roar went up from the host of spectators who\nthronged the cliffs. \u201cShe leads\u2014the _Chim\u00e6ra_ has the lead!\u201d is the cry;\nand, in fact, the _Chim\u00e6ra_, under her captain, Gyas, is forging ahead.\nShe is a galley of the largest size, and built for speed. Next comes\nthe _Scylla_, with her crew rowing powerfully and splendidly together;\nbut she is broad in the beam, and a slow traveller. The third place\nis keenly contested between the _Pristis_[1] and the _Centaur_, whose\nfigureheads may be seen alternately passing and repassing each other, and\nthen again racing neck and neck.\n\nThe rocky island draws nearer and nearer, and they can see the green\nbough of ilex, placed there by order of \u00c6neas, waving in the wind. The\n_Chim\u00e6ra_ is still leading, and Gyas, her captain, calls to his helmsman.\n\u201cKeep closer,\u201d he orders; \u201cyou are steering too wide; let the oars graze\nthe rocks on the port side.\u201d But the cautious old seaman shakes his head,\nand steers in a wide curve, fearing the shoal water near the island.\nClose behind looms the tall prow of the _Scylla_, and they can hear\nthe water hissing and foaming round her cutwater. \u201cThey are gaining!\u201d\nshouts Gyas; and even as he speaks the huge galley, steered by a bold\nand skilful hand, takes the inside place, sweeps round the island, and\ngaining deep water, rushes triumphantly forward, bound for the shore.\nThis was too much for the excitable Gyas; with tears of rage and grief\nhe sprang upon the helmsman, and, snatching the tiller from his hand,\nwith one vigorous thrust he flung the too cautious veteran into the\nsea. Presently a gray head emerged from the water, and the old man was\nseen swimming slowly towards the rocks, which he reached not without\ndifficulty, and sat down with dripping garments and rueful countenance,\ngasping, and spitting out the brine. \u201cNow give way, my men,\u201d cried Gyas,\nputting the helm hard down, as so to bring the galley round to the very\nedge of the rocks.\n\nMeanwhile Mnestheus in the _Pristis_, and Sergestus in the _Centaur_,\nwere still rowing a keen race, and as they neared the turning point the\n_Centaur_ was leading by half a length. Seeing the wild steering of the\n_Chim\u00e6ra_, which was yawing and losing way under the unskilful hand of\nGyas, Mnestheus strode up and down the gangway, calling loudly to his\ncrew: \u201cNow show your mettle, my braves! Ye who have fought at Hector\u2019s\nside, and defied a thousand perils on land and sea, save your captain\nfrom the dishonor of coming in last.\u201d His men respond gallantly to the\ncall; the huge hull of the _Pristis_ trembles under their mighty strokes,\nand the white wake boils and foams behind them. And as they strain and\ntug at their ponderous oars, with parched throats and heaving chests,\nsuddenly a loud crash announces that fortune has come to their aid; for\nthe _Centaur_, taking the curve too short, has stuck fast on a projecting\nridge, and hangs, with shattered prow and broken oars, on the rocks.\nWhile the crew are busy with long poles, trying to get her off, the rival\n_Pristis_ sweeps triumphantly past her, clears the dangerous shallows,\nand enters deep water again, homeward bound. And first she passes the\n_Chim\u00e6ra_, who has lost her helmsman, and cannot keep a straight course;\nthen hard after the _Scylla_ she flies, and seems gaining on her with\nevery stroke.\n\nNearer and nearer creeps the _Pristis_; louder and louder grow the shouts\nof the waiting multitude on the shore, whose feelings have been wound\nup to the wildest excitement by the sudden changes of fortune and the\nstartling incidents of this memorable race. Already the prow of the\n_Pristis_ is overlapping the stern of the _Scylla_, when a sudden fury\nseems to enter into the crew of the leading vessel, and, as if thrust\nforward from below by a giant\u2019s hand, she makes a great bound in advance\nof her pursuer, and gains the harbor.\n\nThe race was over, and the victorious captains, crowned with laurel, were\nflaunting their honors proudly before their admiring comrades. Cloanthus,\nthe captain of the _Scylla_, received as first prize a rich mantle, with\na double waving border of Tyrian purple, on which was embroidered the\nstory of the rape of Ganymede\u2014a living picture, showing the lovely boy,\nseized in the midst of his woodland sports, and borne skyward in the\ntalons of a gigantic eagle; while below him were seen his dogs, leaping\nand baying in wild excitement, and a group of aged attendants, with hands\nuplifted, and lips parted in speechless dismay.\n\nA hundred eyes were curiously scanning this rare device when a loud\nlaugh from the crowd on the shore announced the return of the unlucky\n_Centaur_. Like a wounded snake, crushed by the wheel of a passing\nwagon, she came crawling slowly through the harbor mouth, and landed her\ncrestfallen crew, among whom was Men\u0153tes, the _Chim\u00e6ra\u2019s_ helmsman, still\ndamp from his involuntary bath.\n\n [1] Shark.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOOT RACE\n\nBy H. L. Havell\n\n\n\u00c6neas now led the way to a level, grassy plain, surrounded by hills, and\ndisplayed the prizes for the next event, which was the foot race. Every\ncompetitor was to receive two arrows, the choice workmanship of Cretan\narmorers, and a battle-axe chased with silver; and besides these three\nspecial prizes were offered\u2014a war horse, splendidly caparisoned, for the\nfirst; a quiver of Thracian arrows, with a rich baldric of gold work\nfastened by a jewelled buckle, for the second; and for the third a helmet\nwon in battle from the Greeks.\n\nQuite a crowd of runners assembled at the starting-place; and conspicuous\namong them was seen Euryalus, a boy of great beauty, and Nisus, his\nfriend, who loved him as a father. The long line was brought level, the\nsignal was given, and away they went, Nisus taking the lead, followed\nat a long interval by Salius, a youth of Greek descent; Euryalus, again\nat some distance, held the third place; and after him came Helymus, a\nSicilian, hotly pursued by Diores, a Trojan of the royal race of Priam.\n\nNisus, still keeping the lead, was already within sight of the goal,\nwhen he unwarily trod on a muddy place, wet with the blood of oxen which\nhad been offered in the late sacrifice. He stumbled, reeled, recovered\nhimself, and then fell headlong in the mire. But even at that moment he\ndid not forget his friend Euryalus, but, staggering to his feet, flung\nhimself in the way of Salius as he came up, and both rolled together on\nthe ground. The field was thus left open for Euryalus, who flew past the\nwinning-post an easy victor, amidst a thunder of applause, for his youth\nand beauty had won all hearts. Helymus came in second, and Diores third.\n\n\u00c6neas was engaged in bestowing the prizes on the three winners, as the\ncustom was, at the conclusion of the race, when Salius came up, and began\nto stun the ears of the judges with his complaints. \u201cThe first prize is\nmine,\u201d he protested, laying his hand on the bridle of the horse, in spite\nof the tearful remonstrances of Euryalus and the loud clamor of Diores,\nwho saw himself threatened with the loss of his prize. The dispute was\nstopped by the authority of \u00c6neas, and the ruffled Salius was soothed by\nthe gift of a magnificent lion-skin with gilded claws. Hereupon Nisus\ncame limping up, daubed from head to foot with mud. \u201cIf you pity the\nfallen,\u201d said he to \u00c6neas, \u201cwhat am I to have as a consolation prize?\u201d\n\u00c6neas smiled graciously at the rueful figure of Nisus, and presented him\nwith a shield, richly chased by a Grecian artist; and thus both winners\nand losers were sent away happy and satisfied.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOXING MATCH\n\nBy H. L. Havell\n\n\nA young bull, with gilded horns, and a fine sword and helmet, were\nnext displayed, as prizes for the boxing match. This was a terrible\nand murderous struggle, fraught with peril to life and limb; for the\nboxers fought with their hands encased in gloves of hard leather, often\nweighted with iron and lead, called the _c\u00e6stus_. One champion alone\nappeared ready to bear his part in this heroic sport; he was a Trojan\nnamed Dares, and the son of the famous boxer Amycus, who had been killed\nby Pollux during the voyage of the Argonauts. The fame of Dares was well\nknown among his comrades, and no one seemed inclined to dispute his\nsupremacy in the ring. Accordingly Dares, who had been showing off his\nmuscle before the crowd, and dealing tremendous buffets to an imaginary\nantagonist, strutted up to \u00c6neas, and, laying his hand on the bull,\nclaimed him as his lawful prize.\n\nBut he was not to be allowed to triumph so easily. Among the spectators\nthere stood a man already advanced in years, but of gigantic stature and\nmassive build. Acestes, who was standing near him, now addressed him in\nterms of reproach: \u201cEntellus, wilt thou suffer this braggart to carry\noff the prize without a blow? Hast thou forgotten thy divine master,\nEryx? Or fearest thou the face of this blustering bully?\u201d \u201cI fear no\nman,\u201d answered Entellus; \u201cbut I am old, and my joints are stiff, while\nthat fellow is young and lusty. The greedy knave, he cares for nothing\nbut the prize! What do you think of these?\u201d he cried, stepping into the\nring, and flinging down a ponderous pair of _c\u00e6stus_ of tough bull\u2019s\nhide, stiffened with lead and iron. Dares recoiled at the sight of these\nfrightful weapons, and refused to face an opponent armed in such fashion.\n\u201cWhat would you have thought if you had seen the gauntlets with which\nHercules fought?\u201d asked Entellus, turning to \u00c6neas, who had picked up the\nformidable gloves, and was examining them with amazement. \u201cThese which\nyou see were worn by your brother Eryx when he stood up against Hercules.\nBut I will take no advantage; lend me another pair, and we will fight\nwith equal weapons.\u201d\n\nThe change was made, Entellus stripped, and took up his station in the\nmiddle of the arena confronting Dares, who, powerful as he was, looked a\nmere stripling as he faced the athletic veteran. Then the boxers raised\nthemselves to their full height, with heads drawn back, and the battle\nbegan. Dares was far superior in speed and agility, while Entellus, who\ncould have crushed him in his arms, was slow on his feet, and short of\nwind. There was a rapid interchange of blows, and the air rang with the\nclatter of the hard gauntlets, as Dares man\u0153uvred nimbly round his huge\nantagonist, who stood rooted like an oak in his place, parrying the\nblows. Suddenly Entellus saw an opening, and put in a heavy stroke, with\nall the force of his ponderous right arm. Dares stepped lightly aside,\nand Entellus, carried forward by the impetus of his own blow, lost his\nbalance, and came down with a sounding thud on the turf. A shout of\nmingled triumph and dismay greeted the fall of the Sicilian champion, and\nhis friends rushed forward to help him to his feet.\n\nBut, neither dulled nor dismayed by his fall, that mighty man returns\nkeener to the battle, and kindles strength with rage. All the vigor of\nhis youth comes back to him, and he chases Dares headlong round and\nround the ring, now with his right hand raining blows, now with his\ngiant left. No rest, no pause; like hailstones rattling on the roof,\nso shower the strokes of those iron hands on the head of the hapless\nDares. At last \u00c6neas interposed, and stopped the unequal combat. Dares\nwas borne, shattered and fainting, from the ring, and Entellus, crowned\nwith the victor\u2019s wreath, took possession of the bull. \u201cNow mark,\u201d he\nsaid, \u201c\u00c6neas, and learn, ye Trojans, what force was in this arm in the\ndays of my prime, and what death Dares has escaped.\u201d Saying this, he\nplanted himself firmly in front of the bull, and slowly drawing back his\ngauntleted fist poised it like a club, and dashed it with all his force\nbetween the horns of the beast. The skull was splintered as if by a\nsledge-hammer, and prostrate, lifeless, quivering, on earth lay the bull.\n\u201cThat was the blow which I designed for Dares,\u201d said the giant, \u201cbut\nthe bull is a worthier sacrifice to the shade of my master Eryx. I have\nfought my last round, and now I will hang up my gauntlets in his shrine.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE CONTEST OF THE ARCHERS\n\nBy H. L. Havell\n\n\n\u201cNow, gallant archers, try your skill,\u201d said \u00c6neas, pointing to a tall\nmast, which had been set up in the middle of the plain, with a dove\nfluttering above it fastened by the leg with a slender cord. Lots were\ndrawn to determine the order of shooting, and the archers, among whom\nwere Mnestheus, winner of the third prize in the boat race, Eurytion,\nbrother of the famous Pandarus, and the aged Acestes, took up their\nstations. The first arrow struck the mast. Then Mnestheus, who had\ndrawn the second place, took steady aim, but, missing the bird, chanced\nto sever the cord which bound her to the mast; up flew the dove, and\nremained hovering in the air above their heads. Eurytion now raised his\nbow high above his head, and, calling on his brother\u2019s name, sent an\narrow straight into the air, and brought down the bird, just as she was\npreparing for a distant flight.\n\n\u201cYou have left me no mark to aim at,\u201d said Acestes; \u201cbut see, there is\nvigor left still in these old arms of mine.\u201d And he drew his arrow to\nthe head, and sent an arrow whizzing towards the cloud. Then followed a\nstrange portent, which kept all the prophets busy for many a day; for\nas they watched the flying shaft, it burst into flames, and, shooting\nacross the sky with a trail of light, burnt away, and vanished from view\nlike a meteor in the nights of winter. \u201cHail, fiery messenger of Heaven\u2019s\nwill!\u201d cried Acestes joyfully. \u201cAnd hail to thee, father and friend!\u201d\nrepeated \u00c6neas, grasping his hand. \u201cThine was the best shot of all, and\nI will bestow on thee a gift of honor, since by thy hand was wrought\nthis wonder, and Jove himself has blessed thine archery.\u201d And he gave\nhim a silver goblet, embossed with choice designs, which was a treasured\nheirloom in his family.\n\nThe great multitude now stood hushed in expectation, for the most\nbrilliant event of the day was reserved to the last. As soon as the\narena was cleared \u00c6neas gave a sign to Epytides, the faithful guardian\nand companion of the young Iulus; and presently a murmur arose on the\noutskirts of the crowd, swelling to a great shout, as a troop of youthful\nhorsemen rode into the arena in three divisions. In each division were\ntwelve boys, all armed with javelins, all crowned with olive wreaths,\nand all wearing chains of gold. At the head of each band rode its boyish\ncaptain. First was seen the son of Polites, named after his grandsire\nPriam, mounted on a brave chestnut with white markings on forehead\nand fore-hoof; then followed the second line, led by Atys, whose name\ndescended to a noble Roman house\u2014little Atys, loved in his boyhood by the\nyoung Iulus; and last and fairest of all came Iulus himself, riding a\ngallant steed of Arab race, which he had received as a gift from the fair\nhand of Dido.\n\nLoud was the applause among the Trojans as they watched that pretty\npageant of childish chivalry and traced their fathers\u2019 likeness on the\nblushing faces of the happy boys. Having ridden slowly round the arena\nthey drew up in a body, facing the spot where \u00c6neas and the Trojan\nnobles were seated round their host. Then Eyptides gave the signal with\na loud crack of his whip, and, parting again into three separate troops,\nthey couched their weapons, and made a mimic charge, but, avoiding the\nshock at the moment of meeting, rank passed through rank, wheeled again,\nand returned to the encounter. And so they threaded all the mazes of\na warlike dance, in which attack and retreat, rally, and hand-to-hand\nassault, were pictured in living colors on the level green.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIBYL SPEAKS TO \u00c6NEAS\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\n\u00c6neas finally came to the land of Italy, nigh unto Cum\u00e6, which was the\ndwelling-place of the Sibyl. The men turned the forepart of the ships to\nthe sea, and made them fast with anchors. Then they leapt forth upon the\nshore, and kindled a fire; and some cut wood in the forest, or fetched\nwater from the stream. But \u00c6neas went up to the great cave of the Sibyl,\nwhere, by the inspiration of Apollo, she foretelleth things to come.\n\nNow the temple was a marvellous place to look upon. On the doors thereof\nwas set forth, graven in stone, the death of Androgeos, and the men of\nAttica choosing by lot seven of their children who should be given as a\nransom yearly; and, rising from the sea upon the other side, the land\nof Crete. Likewise the Labyrinth was there and its winding ways; but\nIcarus they saw not, for when his father would have wrought the manner\nof his death in gold his hands failed him: twice he strove, and twice\nthey failed. And when \u00c6neas would have looked further, the priestess\nsaid, \u201cLinger not with these things, but slay forthwith seven bullocks\nfrom the herd, and seven sheep duly chosen out of the flock.\u201d And when\nthey came to the cave\u2014now there are a hundred doors, and a voice cometh\nforth from each\u2014the Sibyl cried, \u201cIt is time. Lo! the god, the god!\u201d And\neven as she spake her look was changed and the color of her face; also\nher hair was loosened, and her breast panted, and she waxed greater than\nis the stature of a man. Then she cried, \u201cDelayest thou to pray, \u00c6neas\nof Troy? delayest thou? for the doors open not but to prayer.\u201d Nor said\nshe more. Then \u00c6neas prayed, saying, \u201cO Ph\u0153bus, who didst always pity\nthe sorrows of Troy, and didst guide the arrow of Paris that it slew\nthe great Achilles, I have followed thy bidding, journeying over many\nlands, and now I lay hold on this shore of Italy, which ever seemed to\nfly before me. Grant thou that our ill fortune follow us no more. And all\nye gods and goddesses who loved not Troy, be merciful to us. And thou,\nO prophetess, give, if it may be, such answer as I would hear. So will\nI and my people honor thee forever. And write it not, I pray thee, upon\nleaves, lest the winds carry them away, but speak with thy voice.\u201d\n\nAnd for a while the prophetess strove against the spirit; but at the\nlast it mastered her, and the doors flew open, and she spake, saying,\n\u201cThe perils of the sea thou hast escaped, but there await thee yet\nworse perils upon the land. The men of Troy shall come to the kingdom\nof Lavinium. Fear not for that; yet will they fain not have come. I see\nbattles, and the Tiber foaming with blood, and a new Xanthus and Simo\u00efs,\nand another Achilles, himself also goddess-born. Juno also shall be ever\nagainst thee. And thou shalt be a suppliant to many cities. And the cause\nof all these woes shall be again a woman. Only yield not thou, but go\never more boldly when occasion shall serve. Little thinkest thou that thy\nfirst succor shall be from a city of the Greeks.\u201d\n\nAnd when she had ended these words, \u00c6neas made answer: \u201cO lady, no toil\nor peril shall take me unawares; for I have thought over all things in\nmy heart. But one thing I ask of thee. Here is the door of the dwellings\nof the dead. Fain would I pass thereby, that I may visit my father. I\ncarried him on my shoulders out of the fires of Troy, and with me he\nendured many things by land and sea, more than befitted his old age.\nLikewise he bade me ask this boon of thee. Do thou therefore pity both\nfather and son, for thou hast the power, if only thou wilt. Did not\nOrpheus bring back his wife from the dead, having his harp only? Also\nPollux goeth many times this same path, redeeming his brother from death.\nAnd why should I tell of Theseus and Hercules? And I also am of the\nlineage of Jupiter.\u201d\n\nThen the Sibyl spake, saying, \u201cSon of Anchises, it is easy to go down to\nhell. The door is open day and night. But to return, and struggle to the\nupper air, that is the labor. Few only have done it, and these of the\nlineage of the gods and dear to Jupiter. Yet if thou wilt attempt it,\nhearken unto me. There lieth hid in the forest a bough of gold which is\nsacred to the Queen of Hell. Nor may any man go on this journey till he\nhave plucked it, for the queen will have it as a gift for herself. And\nwhen the bough is plucked, there ever groweth another; and if it be the\npleasure of the gods that thou go, it will yield to thy hand. But know\nthat one of thy companions lieth dead upon the shore. First must thou\nbury him and after offer due sacrifice, even black sheep. So shalt thou\napproach the dwellings of the dead.\u201d\n\nThen \u00c6neas departed from the cave, and Achates went with him, and much\nthey wondered who it might be that was dead. And when they came to the\nshore, lo! Misenus lay there, than whom no man was more skilful to call\nmen to battle with the voice of the trumpet. Hector\u2019s companion he had\nbeen in old time and then followed \u00c6neas. And now, blowing his trumpet\non the shore, he had challenged the gods of the sea to compare with him;\nwherefore a Triton caught him and plunged him into the sea, so that he\ndied. Then did \u00c6neas and his companions prepare for the burial, cutting\nilex and oak and mountain-ash from the wood. But when \u00c6neas beheld the\nforest, how vast it was, he said, \u201cNow, may the gods grant that in this\ngreat forest the bough of gold discover itself.\u201d And as he spake, lo! two\ndoves flew before his face, and settled on the grass, and he knew them to\nbe the birds of his mother, and cried saying, \u201cGuide me now to the bough\nof gold, and thou my mother help me as before.\u201d Then the birds flew so\nthat he could still see them with his eyes, and he followed after them.\n\nBut when they came to the mouth of Avernus, they sat both of them on the\ntree. And lo! the bough of gold glittered among the branches and rustled\nin the wind. Right gladly did \u00c6neas break it off, and carry it to the\ndwelling of the Sibyl.\n\nIn the meantime the men of Troy made a great burial for Misenus on the\nshore, building a pile of wood, and washing and anointing the body. Also\nthey laid the body on a bier, and on it the garments which he had worn\nbeing yet alive. Then others, with faces turned away, held a torch to\nthe wood, whereon also were burnt incense and offerings of oil. And when\nthe burning was ended they quenched the ashes with wine. And Coryn\u00e6us\ngathered the bones into an urn of bronze, and purified the people,\nsprinkling them with water with a bough of an olive-tree. Then \u00c6neas made\na great mound, and put thereon the trumpet of the man and his bow; and\nthe mountain is called Misenus, after him, to this day.\n\nBut when the burial was ended he did as the Sibyl had commanded. A great\ncavern there is, from which cometh so evil a stench that no bird may fly\nacross. There they brought four black oxen, and the priestess poured wine\nupon their heads and cut hairs from between the horns. And when they had\nburned these they slew the oxen, holding dishes for the blood. And \u00c6neas\noffered a black lamb to the Furies and a barren heifer to the Queen of\nHell, smiting them with his sword. Then they burned the entrails with\nfire, pouring oil upon them. Then did the ground give a hollow sound\nbeneath them, and the dogs howled, for the goddess was at hand. And the\npriestess cried, \u201cGo ye who may not take part in this matter. And thou,\n\u00c6neas, draw thy sword from its sheath and follow. Now hast thou need of\nall thy strength and courage.\u201d Then she plunged into the cave, and \u00c6neas\nwent with her.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DWELLINGS OF THE DEAD\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nSo they went together through the land of shadows, like unto men who walk\nthrough a wood in a doubtful light, when the moon indeed hath risen,\nbut there are clouds over the sky. And first they came to where, in\nfront of the gates of hell, dwell Sorrow and Remorse, and pale Disease\nand Fear, and Hunger that tempteth men to sin, and Want, and Death, and\nToil, and Slumber, that is Death\u2019s kinsman, and deadly War; also they\nsaw the chambers of the Furies, and Discord, whose hair is of snakes\nthat drip with blood. And in this region there is an ancient elm, in the\nboughs whereof dwell all manner of dreams, and shapes of evil monsters,\nas many as have been, such as were the centaurs, half man, half horse,\nand Briareus with the hundred hands, and others also. These \u00c6neas, when\nhe saw them, sought to slay, rushing upon them with the sword, but his\nguide warned him that they were shadows only.\n\nAfter this they came to the river of hell, whereon plies the boatman\nCharon. A long white beard hath he and unkempt; and his eyes are fixed in\na fiery stare, and a scarf is knotted upon his shoulder, as is a pilot\u2019s\nwont. An old man he seemeth to be, but hale and ruddy. Now there was ever\nrushing to the bank a great crowd, wives and mothers, and valiant men of\nwar, boys and girls dead before they were given in marriage, and young\nmen laid on the funeral pile before their parents\u2019 eyes. Thick they were\nas the leaves that fall to the earth at the first frost of autumn, or as\nthe swallows, when they gather themselves together, making ready to fly\nacross the sea to the lands of the sun. And of these Charon would take\nsome into his boat; but others he would forbid, and drive from the shore.\nThis when \u00c6neas saw, he marvelled, and said: \u201cO lady, what meaneth this\nconcourse at the river? What seek these souls? Why be some driven from\nthe bank and some ferried across?\u201d\n\nAnd the Sibyl made answer: \u201cThis river that thou seest is the Styx, by\nwhich the gods in heaven swear, and fear to break their oath. Those whom\nthou seest to be driven from the bank are such as have lacked burial,\nbut those who are ferried across have been buried duly; for none pass\nthis stream till their bodies have been laid in the grave, otherwise they\nwander for a hundred years, and so at last may cross over.\u201d\n\nMuch did \u00c6neas pity their ill fortune, and the more when he beheld\nOrontes and his Lycians whom the sea had swallowed up alive before his\neyes. Here likewise there met him his pilot Palinurus, to whom, when he\nknew him, for indeed he scarce could see him in the darkness, he said:\n\u201cWhat god took thee from us and drowned thee in the sea? Surely, in this\none matter, Apollo hath deceived me, saying that thou shouldst escape the\nsea and come to the land of Italy.\u201d\n\nThen answered Palinurus: \u201cNot so, great \u00c6neas. For indeed to the land of\nItaly I came. Three nights the south wind carried me over the sea, and on\nthe fourth day I saw the land of Italy from the top of a wave. And when I\nswam to the shore, and was now clinging to the rocks, my garments being\nheavy with water, the savage people came upon me, and took me for a prey,\nand slew me. And now the winds and waves bear me about as they will.\nWherefore I pray thee, by thy father, and Iulus, the hope of thy house,\nthat thou deliver me from these woes. Go, therefore, I beseech thee, to\nthe haven of Velia, and cast earth upon me for burial; or give me now thy\nhand, and take me with thee across this river.\u201d\n\nThen said the priestess: \u201cO Palinurus, what madness is this? Wilt thou\nwithout due burial cross the river, and look upon the awful faces of the\nFuries? Think not that the Fates can be changed by prayers. Yet hear\nthis, and be comforted. They that slew thee, being sore troubled by many\nplagues, shall make due expiation to thee, and build a tomb, and make\nofferings thereon year by year; and the place where they slew thee shall\nbe called after thy name.\u201d\n\nThen he took comfort and departed. But when they came near to the river,\nthe boatman beheld them, and cried: \u201cStay thou, whoever thou art, that\ncomest armed to this river, and tell me what thou seekest. This is the\nland of Shadows, of Sleep, and of Night. The living may not be ferried in\nthis boat. An evil day it was when I carried Hercules, and Theseus, and\nPiritho\u00fcs, though they were children of the gods. For Hercules chained\nthe watch-dog of hell, and dragged him trembling from his master\u2019s seat.\nAnd Theseus and his friend sought to carry away the queen even from the\nchamber of her husband.\u201d\n\nThen the Sibyl made answer: \u201cBe not troubled. We come not hither with\nevil thoughts. Let the watch-dog of hell make the pale ghosts afraid; let\nyour queen abide in her husband\u2019s palace; we will not harm them. \u00c6neas of\nTroy cometh down to hell that he may speak with his father. And if thou\ntakest no account of such piety, yet thou wilt know this token.\u201d\n\nAnd she showed him the bough of gold. And when he saw it he laid aside\nhis anger, rejoicing to behold, now after many years, the marvellous\ngift. Then he brought near his boat to the bank, and drave out the souls\nthat were therein, and took on board \u00c6neas and the priestess. Much did\nit groan with the weight, and the water poured apace through the seams\nthereof. Yet did they come safe across.\n\nThen they saw Cerberus, the watch-dog, in his cave. And to him the\nSibyl gave a cake of honey and poppy-seed, causing sleep. And this he\nswallowed, opening wide his three ravenous mouths, and straightway\nstretched himself out asleep across the cave.\n\nAfter this they heard a great wailing of infants, even the voices of\nsuch as are taken away before they have had lot or part in life. And\nnear to these were such as have died by false accusation; yet lack they\nnot justice, for Minos trieth their cause. And yet beyond, they that,\nbeing guiltless, have laid hands upon themselves. Fain would they now\nendure hardships, being yet alive, but may not, for the river keeps them\nin with his unlovely stream as in a prison. Not far from these are the\nMourning Fields, where dwell the souls of those that have died of love,\nas Procris, whom Cephalus slew in error, and Laodamia, who died of grief\nfor her husband. And among these was Dido, fresh from the wound wherewith\nshe slew herself. And when \u00c6neas saw her darkly through the shadows, even\nas one who sees, or thinketh that he sees, the new moon lately risen, he\nwept, and said: \u201cO Dido, it was truth, then, that they told me, saying\nthat thou hadst slain thyself with the sword. Tell me, was I the cause of\nthy death? Loath was I, O queen\u2014I swear it by all that is most holy in\nheaven or hell\u2014to leave thy land. But the gods, at whose bidding I come\nhither this day, constrained me; nor did I think that thou wouldst take\nsuch sorrow from my departure. But stay; depart not; for never again may\nI speak to thee but this once only.\u201d\n\nSo he spake, and would fain have appeased her wrath. But she cast her\neyes to the ground, and her heart was hard against him, even as a rock.\nAnd she departed into a grove that was hard by, wherein was her first\nhusband, Sich\u00e6us, who loved her even as he was loved. After this they\ncame to the land where the heroes dwell. And there they saw Tydeus, who\ndied before Thebes; and Adrastus, and also many men of Troy, as the three\nsons of Antenor, and Id\u00e6us, who was the armor-bearer of King Priam, and\nbare the arms and drave the chariot yet. All these gathered about him and\nwould fain know wherefore he had come. But when the hosts of Agamemnon\nsaw his shining arms through the darkness, they fled, as in old days they\nhad fled to the ships; and some would have cried aloud, but could not, so\nthin are the voices of the dead.\n\nAmong these he saw De\u00efphobus, son of Priam. Cruelly mangled was he, for\nhis hands had been cut off, and his ears and his nostrils likewise.\nScarce did \u00c6neas know him, and he himself in shame would have hidden his\nwounds; but the son of Anchises spake to him, saying: \u201cWho hath dealt so\nfoully with thee, great De\u00efphobus? Men told me that on the last night\nof Troy thou didst fall dead on a heap of Greeks whom thou hadst slain.\nWherefore I built thee a tomb by the sea, and thrice called aloud thy\nname. But thee I found not, that I might lay thee therein.\u201d\n\nThen De\u00efphobus made answer: \u201cThou hast left nothing undone, but hast paid\nme all due honor. But my ill fate and the accursed wickedness of the\nSpartan woman have destroyed me. How we spent that last night in idle\nrejoicings thou knowest. And she, while the women of Troy danced before\nthe gods, stood holding a torch on the citadel, as though she were their\nleader, yet in truth she called therewith the Greeks from Tenedos. But I\nlay overcome with weariness in my chamber. Then did she, a noble wife,\nforsooth! take all the arms out of the house, and my trusty sword also\nfrom under my head; and after brought thereunto Menelaus, so hoping to\ndo away her sin against him; and Ulysses also, always ready with evil\ncounsels. What need of more? May the gods do so and more also to them.\nBut tell me why hast thou came hither?\u201d\n\nAnd it was now past noonday, and the two had spent in talk all the\nallotted time. Therefore the Sibyl spake: \u201cNight cometh, \u00c6neas, and we\nwaste the day in tears. Lo! here are two roads. This on the right hand\nleadeth to the palace of Pluto and to the Elysian plains; and that on the\nleft to Tartarus, the abode of the wicked.\u201d And De\u00efphobus answered: \u201cBe\nnot wroth, great priestess; I depart to my own place. Do thou, my friend,\ngo on and prosper.\u201d\n\nBut as \u00c6neas looked round he saw a great building, and a threefold wall\nabout it, and round the wall a river of fire. Great gates there were, and\na tower of brass, and the Fury Tisiphone sat as warder. Also he heard the\nsounds of those that smote upon an anvil, and the clanking of chains.\nAnd he stood, and said: \u201cWhat mean these things that I see and hear?\u201d\nThen the Sibyl made answer: \u201cThe foot of the righteous may not pass that\nthreshold. But when the Queen of Hell gave me this office she herself\nled me through the place and told me all. There sitteth Rhadamanthus,\nthe Cretan, and judgeth the dead. And them that he condemned Tisiphone\ntaketh, and the gate which thou seest openeth to receive them. And within\nis a great pit, and the depth thereof is as the height of heaven. Herein\nlie the Titans, the sons of Earth, whom Jupiter smote with the thunder;\nand herein the sons of Al\u0153us, who strove to thrust the gods from heaven;\nand Salmoneus, who would have mocked the thunder of Jupiter, riding in\nhis chariot through the cities of Elis, and shaking a torch, and giving\nhimself out to be a god. But the lightning smote him in his pride. Also I\nsaw Tityos, spread over nine acres of ground, and the vulture feeding on\nhis heart. And over some hangs a great stone ready to fall; and some sit\nat the banquet, but when they would eat the Fury at their side forbids,\nand rises and shakes her torch and thunders in their ears. These are they\nwho while they were yet alive hated their brothers, or struck father or\nmother, or deceived one that trusted to them, or kept their riches for\nthemselves nor cared for those of their own household (a great multitude\nare they), or stirred up civil strife. And of these some roll a great\nstone and cease not, and some are bound to wheels, and some sit forever\ncrying: \u2018Learn to do righteousness and to fear the gods.\u2019\u201d\n\nAnd when the priestess had finished these words they hastened on their\nway. And, after a while, she said: \u201cLo! here is the palace which the\nCyclopes built for Pluto and the Queen of Hell. Here must we offer the\ngift of the bough of gold.\u201d And this being accomplished, they came to\nthe dwellings of the righteous. Here are green spaces, with woods about\nthem; and the light of their heaven is fuller and brighter than that\nwhich men behold. Another sun they have and other stars. Some of them\ncontend together in wrestling and running; and some dance in measure,\nsinging the while a pleasant song; and Orpheus, clad in a long robe,\nmakes music, touching his harp, now with his fingers and now with an\nivory bow. Here did \u00c6neas marvel to see the mighty men of old, such as\nwere Ilus, and Dardanus, builder of Troy. Their spears stood fixed in\nthe earth, and their horses fed about the plain; for they love spear\nand chariot and horses; even as they loved them upon earth. And others\nsat and feasted, sitting on the grass in a sweet-smelling grove of bay,\nwhence flows the river which men upon the earth call the Po. Here were\nthey who had died for their country, and holy priests, and poets who had\nuttered nothing base, and such as had found out witty inventions, or had\ndone great good to men. All these had snow-white garlands on their heads.\nThen spake the Sibyl to Mus\u00e6us, who stood in the midst, surpassing them\nall in stature: \u201cTell me, happy souls, where shall we find Anchises.\u201d And\nMus\u00e6us answered: \u201cWe have no certain dwelling place; but climb this hill,\nand ye can see the whole plain below, and doubtless him whom ye seek.\u201d\n\nThen they beheld Anchises, where he sat in a green valley, regarding the\nspirits of those who should be born in after-time of his race. And when\nhe beheld \u00c6neas coming, he stretched out his hands and cried: \u201cComest\nthou, my son? Hast thou won thy way hither to me? Even so I thought that\nit would be, and lo! my hope hath not failed me.\u201d\n\nAnd \u00c6neas made answer: \u201cYea, I have come a long way to see thee, even as\nthy spirit bade me. And now let me embrace thee with my arms.\u201d\n\nBut when he would have embraced him it was as if he clasped the air.\n\nThen \u00c6neas looked and beheld a river, and a great company of souls\nthereby, thick as the bees on a calm summer day in a garden of lilies.\nAnd when he would know the meaning of the concourse, Anchises said:\n\u201cThese are souls which have yet to live again in a mortal body, and they\nare constrained to drink of the water of forgetfulness.\u201d And \u00c6neas said:\n\u201cNay, my father, can any desire to take again upon them the body of\ndeath?\u201d Then Anchises made reply: \u201cListen, my son, and I will tell thee\nall. There is one soul in heaven and earth and the stars and the shining\norb of the moon and the great sun himself; from which soul also cometh\nthe life of man and of beast, and of the birds of the air, and of the\nfishes of the sea. And this soul is of a divine nature, but the mortal\nbody maketh it slow and dull. Hence come fear and desire, and grief and\njoy, so that, being as it were shut in a prison, the spirit beholdeth not\nany more the light that is without. And when the mortal life is ended yet\nare not men quit of all the evils of the body, seeing that these must\nneeds be put away in many marvellous ways. For some are hung up to the\nwinds, and with some their wickedness is washed out by water, or burnt\nout with fire. But a ghostly pain we all endure. Then we that are found\nworthy are sent unto Elysium and the plains of the blest. And when,\nafter many days, the soul is wholly pure, it is called to the river of\nforgetfulness, that it may drink thereof, and so return to the world that\nis above.\u201d\n\nThen he led \u00c6neas and the Sibyl to a hill whence they could see the whole\ncompany, and regard their faces as they came; and he said: \u201cCome, and\nI will show thee them that shall come after thee. That youth who leans\nupon a pointless spear is Silvius, thy youngest child, whom Lavinia shall\nbear to thee in thy old age. He shall reign in Alba, and shall be the\nfather of kings. And many other kings are there who shall build cities\ngreat and famous. Lo! there is Romulus, whom Ilia shall bear to Mars.\nHe shall build Rome, whose empire shall reach to the ends of the earth\nand its glory to the heaven. Seest thou him with the olive crown about\nhis head and the white beard? That is he who shall first give laws to\nRome. And next to him is Tullus, the warrior. And there are the Tarquins;\nand Brutus, who shall set the people free, aye, and shall slay his own\nsons when they would be false to their country. See also the Decii; and\nTorquatus with the cruel axe; and Camillus winning back the standards\nof Rome. There standeth one who shall subdue Corinth; and there another\nwho shall avenge the blood of Troy upon the race of Achilles. There,\ntoo, thou mayest see the Scipios, thunderbolts of war, whom the land of\nAfrica shall fear; and there Regulus, busy in the furrows; and there the\nFabii, chiefly him, greatest of the name, who shall save thy country by\nwise delay. Such, my son, shall be thy children\u2019s children. Others with\nsofter touch shall carve the face of man in marble or mould the bronze;\nsome more skilfully shall plead, or map the skies, or tell the rising of\nthe stars. \u2019Tis time, man of Rome, to subdue the world. This is thy work,\nto set the rule of peace over the vanquished, to spare the humble, and to\nsubdue the proud.\u201d\n\nThen he spake again: \u201cRegard him who is the first of all the company\nof conquerors. He is Marcellus; he shall save the state in the day of\ntrouble, and put to flight Carthaginian and Gaul.\u201d\n\nThen said \u00c6neas, for he chanced to see by his side a youth clad in\nshining armor, and very fair to look upon, but sad, and with downcast\neyes: \u201cTell me, father, who is this? How noble is he! What a company is\nabout him! But there is a shadow of darkness round his head.\u201d\n\nAnd Anchises made answer: \u201cO my son, seek not to know the greatest sorrow\nthat shall befall thy children after thee. This youth the Fates shall\nonly show for a brief space to man. Rome would seem too mighty to the\ngods should he but live! What mourning shall there be for him! What a\nfuneral shalt thou see, O river of Tiber, as thou flowest by the new-made\ntomb! No youth of the race of Troy shall promise so much as he. Alas!\nfor his righteousness, and truth and valor unsurpassed! O luckless boy,\nif thou canst haply break thy evil doom thou shalt be a Marcellus. Give\nhandfuls of lilies. I will scatter the bright flowers and pay the idle\nhonors to my grandson\u2019s shade.\u201d\n\nThus did Anchises show his son things to be, and kindled his soul with\ndesire of glory. Also he showed him what wars he must wage, and how he\nshould endure, or, if it might be, avoid the evils to come.\n\nThere are two gates of Sleep, of horn the one, by which true dreams go\nforth; of ivory the other, by which the false. Then did Anchises send\nforth his son and the Sibyl by the ivory gate. And \u00c6neas returned to\nthe ships, and making sail came to the cape which was afterwards called\nCaieta.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ORACLE FORETELLS THE COMING OF \u00c6NEAS\n\nBy H. L. Havell\n\n\nWhile \u00c6neas is on his way from Cum\u00e6 to the mouth of Tiber we will take\na brief glance at the state of things in Latium, and see what sort of\nreception is awaiting him there. The King of Latium at this time was\nLatinus, who drew his descent from Saturn, an ancient pastoral deity of\nItaly. His daughter, and only child, Lavinia, was betrothed to Turnus,\nand the match was strongly favored by Amata, queen and wife of Latinus,\nwhose heart had been won by the princely form and high ancestry of the\nyouthful suitor. But just before the arrival of the Trojans strange\nportents had occurred, which seemed to forbid the union of Lavinia\nand Turnus. In the central courtyard of the royal palace there was an\nancient laurel-tree, found growing on the spot by Latinus when he began\nto build the city, which was named from this circumstance Laurentum.\nOne morning the whole courtyard was besieged by a buzzing swarm of bees,\nwhich settled on the laurel, and hung in a dense cluster from its topmost\nbough. \u201cA stranger is coming,\u201d declared the seers, \u201cfrom the same quarter\nwhence flew the bees, and he shall hold sway in this royal citadel.\u201d\nAnother time, when Lavinia was taking part in the sacrifice which was\noffered at her betrothal, the flame caught her long hair, and in a moment\nshe was wrapped from head to foot in a mysterious fire, which smoked and\nblazed and roared, but did her no harm. \u201cO king,\u201d proclaimed the seer\nagain, \u201cthy daughter is destined to high renown, but she shall bring on\nthis people a wide-wasting war.\u201d\n\nAlarmed by these portents Latinus went to consult the oracle of Faunus,\nhis father, in the sacred grotto near the burning spring of Albunea,\nwhich is the Delphi of Latium. Wrapped in the skins of sheep which had\nbeen offered in sacrifice (for so the custom was) he lay all night at the\nmouth of the cavern. \u201cIn the dead vast and middle of the night\u201d he heard\na voice which said: \u201cSeek not in Latium a bridegroom for thy daughter;\nfrom a distant land there cometh one who shall mingle his blood with\nthine, and out of that union a race shall arise before which all peoples\nof the earth shall bow the knee.\u201d\n\nThis answer of the oracle was soon noised abroad, and caused throughout\nLatium a fever of expectation at the moment when the ships of \u00c6neas were\nfirst sighted off the coast.\n\n\n\n\n\u00c6NEAS AND HIS COMPANIONS EAT THEIR TABLES\n\nBy H. L. Havell\n\n\nThe distant crests of the Apennines are tipped with crimson light; every\nwind is hushed to rest, and land and sea lie sleeping in the hallowed\nstillness of the dawn. But hark! the silence is broken by the measured\nbeat of a thousand oars, and into the mouth of Tiber sweeps the Trojan\nfleet. As if they had been waiting for that signal, a multitude of birds\nat the same moment burst into song, and all the woods by the river-side\nring with melody. \u00c6neas is the first to leap ashore; and soon all his\nfleet lies moored on the yellow sand.\n\nUnder the spreading boughs of an ancient oak sat \u00c6neas with the young\nIulus and those next to him in rank. Before them was spread a rustic\nfeast of fruits plucked from the neighboring trees; and flat cakes,\nhastily prepared with meal and eggs and cheese, served them for dishes.\nWhen all their fruit was consumed they finished their meal by devouring\nthe flat squares of cake. \u201cBehold, we are eating our tables!\u201d cried\nIulus, laughing; and before he could add another word \u00c6neas laid a\nwarning finger on his lips. \u201cNo more, my child,\u201d he said. \u201cThy words have\na deeper meaning than thou deemest. Long ago I heard an oracle from my\nfather, foretelling that in the place where hunger compelled us to devour\nour tables we should find a settled home and an abiding city. Here, then,\nour wanderings are at an end.\u201d And thus the prophecy of Cel\u00e6no, uttered\nin malice, was brought to a happy fulfilment, and turned into a matter of\nlight jesting by an innocent child.\n\nOn the day following \u00c6neas chose out a hundred men from all his company,\nand sent them as envoys to the court of Latinus. Crowned with olive\nwreaths, to show that they came in peace, they set forth on their\nmission, and soon reached the open plain which lies before the gates of\nLaurentum, where the youth of Latium were assembled for the practice of\narchery, horsemanship, and other warlike exercises. Here they halted, and\nsent forward a messenger to announce their coming to the king. Permission\nbeing granted, they entered the gates under an escort, and were conducted\nto the royal palace, which stood on a hill, commanding the city, and\nsurrounded by a hallowed grove. Here they were first ushered into an\nante-chamber filled with warlike trophies\u2014chariots and the beaked prows\nof ships, battle-axes, helmets, shields, and spears; while round the\nwalls were ranged statues of the ancient kings and warriors of Latium.\nFrom here, with all due ceremony, they were brought into the presence of\nthe king.\n\nBenign was the face of the venerable Latinus, and gracious were his\nwords, as he gave welcome to his guests. \u201cChildren of Dardanus,\u201d he\nsaid, \u201cI know both your name and your fame, and ye come not hither as\nstrangers. Whether ye come to this land of set purpose, or driven by\nadverse winds, I regard you as friends, and in some wise as kinsmen.\nWas not Dardanus, your ancestor, whose seat is now in heaven, a son of\nItaly?\u201d\n\nIlioneus, the leader of the embassy, replied: \u201cIllustrious son of Saturn,\nit was no accident of wind or weather which brought us to thy shores.\nThou knowest\u2014as who doth not, dwell he never so remote from the paths of\nmen?\u2014thou knowest the tempest which gathered at Mycen\u00e6 and swept over the\nplains of Asia. Saved from that deluge and the havoc of our homes we have\npassed the wide waste of waters, following the voice of Apollo, which\ncalled us to the Tuscan Tiber and the cradle of our race. We ask but a\nlittle gift\u2014a small plot of earth for our country\u2019s gods to dwell in, and\nthe common boon of water and air. And despise us not, nor think that we\ncome as beggars and outcasts; many are the nations who would have given\nus an honorable portion in their land and received us as friends and\nallies, but fate suffered it not. Receive us, then, and take these gifts\nfrom the hands of \u00c6neas, a hand never stained by treachery or cowardice.\nThis is the golden goblet from which his sire Anchises was wont to pour\nthe drink-offering; here is the royal robe and the scepter and tiara of\nPriam; and these vestments were wrought by the hands of noble Trojan\ndames.\u201d\n\nFor a while Latinus sat silent, pondering on the strange event, which\nseemed to fulfil the oracle of ancient Faunus. This, thought he, is the\nforeign bridegroom of which the oracle spoke. Presently he raised his\nhead, and answered, with a look of glad assurance: \u201cTrojan, thou hast thy\nwish; and may the gods speed our designs! I have a daughter who, by many\nsure tokens, is destined to wed a stranger from a distant country, and,\nunless my mind deceives me, your King \u00c6neas is called by fate to be her\nhusband. Bid him seek my presence with all speed, and doubt not of his\nwelcome.\u201d\n\nSuch was the reply of Latinus; and his actions were as kind as his\nwords.\u2026\n\nFinding that Latinus was not to be shaken in his resolve, Amata gave the\nreins to her frenzy, and going forth into the city, sped from house to\nhouse and poured her tale of wrong into the ears of all whom she met.\u2026\n\nThus what had begun as a petty brawl soon grew into a regular battle, in\nwhich the whole Trojan force found itself confronted by a strong muster\nfrom the field of Latium.\u2026\n\n\u00c6neas received an embassy sent by Latinus to ask a truce for the burial\nof the slain. The envoys were courteously received, and after granting\ntheir request \u00c6neas addressed them in terms of grave and dignified\nremonstrance. \u201cWhy,\u201d he asked, \u201chas your king broken faith with me\nthus, and brought on Trojans and Latins this lamentable war? If Turnus\ncomplains that I am robbing him of his promised bride, let him make good\nhis right in single combat, and not sacrifice the lives of thousands in a\nprivate quarrel. Tell him that I am ready to meet him when and where he\nwill.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIGHT BETWEEN \u00c6NEAS AND TURNUS\n\nBy H. L. Havell\n\n\nTurnus had declared himself ready to decide the struggle in single combat\nwith \u00c6neas. The time had now come for him to redeem his pledge. The\nLatins were beaten and discouraged, and all eyes were fixed upon him as\nthe author and cause of the war. The fiery spirit of the young Rutulian\nrose under this trial; he sought an interview with Latinus, and bade him\nsend a herald to demand a truce and arrange the preliminaries of his duel\nwith \u00c6neas.\n\nLatinus strove in vain to deter him from his purpose; in vain Amata\nbesought him with tears and prayers not to drive matters to so desperate\nan issue. Turnus fixed his eyes on the lovely form and blushing features\nof Lavinia, who was standing a silent witness of the scene, and, carried\naway by passion, he answered in excited tones: \u201cUrge me no further,\ndear lady! The die is cast; I have given my word, and cannot draw back\nnow.\u201d Then he called an officer, and sent him with a flag of truce to\nthe Trojan camp, appointing the next day for the encounter which was to\nsettle his claim to the hand of Lavinia and the scepter of Latium.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe fatal day is come, and with the first gleam of light Turnus leaps\nfrom his couch and prepares himself for battle. Every tone and gesture\nof the turbulent Rutulian betray wild exaltation of spirits. \u201cCome,\u201d\nhe cries, seizing a ponderous lance, which quivered like a reed in his\npowerful grasp, \u201ccome, good spear, that hast never failed me yet! To-day\nthou shalt drink deep of a coward\u2019s blood, and the curled darling of\nVenus shall stain his scented locks in the dust of Latium.\u201d\n\nOn the other side \u00c6neas armed himself with calm confidence, secure in\nthe sense of his lofty mission. The lists were measured, and altars of\nturf erected for the customary sacrifice. On either side of the field\nthe Trojans and Latins were drawn up in battle array, and the walls of\nLaurentum were thronged with women and old men, the passive spectators of\nthe approaching combat.\n\nA loud shout from the ranks of the Latins announces that the king is\nat hand, and soon Latinus appears in the center of the arena, seated\nin a four-horse car, and wearing his royal crown. Turnus follows close\nbehind, sheathed in complete armor, and drawn by two snow-white steeds.\n\u00c6neas stands ready to receive them; the victims are brought, the salted\nmeal is sprinkled, and the sacred forelock cut off from the forehead of\nthe victims. Then \u00c6neas lifts up his hands, and makes a solemn appeal\nto Jupiter and Juno and Mars, and all the powers of earth and sky and\nsea: \u201cWitness, all ye eternal gods, and hear my vow: if Turnus gains the\nmastery to-day the Trojans shall go back to Evander\u2019s city, and never\nbear arms against this realm again; but if, as I hope and believe, Heaven\nfavors my sword, I claim not the sovereignty of Latium, nor seek aught\nfor myself and my people but the right to dwell here in peace as a\nfriend and ally of the old inhabitants.\u201d The oath was solemnly repeated\nby Latinus and ratified by sacrifice and prayer.\n\nBut the combat was not to proceed without interruption. On a lofty hill,\nknown in after days as the Alban Mount, sat Juno, watching the scene\nwith jealous eyes. She observed with pity the pale and downcast face of\nTurnus, whose courage began to fail him as the fatal moment drew near;\nand, resolved to make one more effort on his behalf, she went in search\nof Juturna, a sister of Turnus, who had been raised to divine honors by\nthe special favor of Jove, and made a presiding deity over the fountains\nand rivers of Latium. \u201cUp, Juturna,\u201d said the goddess, when she had found\nher sitting pensively by a dear fountain-head; \u201cgo help thy brother in\nhis dire need. I can do no more.\u201d\n\nStarting up at the summons Juturna made haste to obey, and a moment after\nshe was standing invisible among the Rutulians who fought under Turnus.\nBy their looks and words she soon perceived that they were ripe for\nmischief; and putting on the likeness of Camers, a brave warrior, and\nfriend of Turnus, she gave voice to the general sentiment thus: \u201cAre ye\nnot ashamed, Rutulians, that one man should give his life for you all?\nShall we, who outnumber the enemy by two to one, sit idly by and see our\nleader slain and a chain forged for our own necks?\u201d\n\nThe words were caught up, and passed from rank to rank; threatening\nmurmurs arose among the Rutulians, and even the Latins began to regret\nthat they had left their fate to be decided by the sword of Turnus. In\nthe midst of this excitement a flight of wild swans was seen passing\noverhead, pursued by an eagle, who swooped suddenly on one of the finest\nof the birds, and began to bear him off in his talons. Hereupon the\nwhole troop rallied to the rescue of their comrade, and so belabored and\nbuffeted the robber with their powerful wings that he was compelled to\ndrop his prey and seek safety in flight. \u201cHear me,\u201d cried Tolumnius, a\nfamous augur, \u201cwhile I read you the omen. The eagle is \u00c6neas, and the\nswans who beat him off are ourselves, the free sons of Italy, who will\nforthwith drive this marauder across the sea again.\u201d\n\nSuiting the action to the word he ran forward, and flung his spear. It\nflew hissing across the open space which separated the two armies, and\nstruck a tall Arcadian, one of nine brothers, in the side. He fell,\nmortally wounded, and his brethren, with a cry of rage and grief, seized\ntheir weapons, and rushed to avenge him. A general advance now began on\nboth sides; thick and fast flew the javelins; and Latinus left the field\nin haste to escape from that iron shower.\n\n\u00c6neas made desperate efforts to check the furious passions which were\nraging around him. Bareheaded and unarmed he flung himself into the thick\nof the combatants, crying: \u201cAre ye mad, good people? Drop your weapons,\nand leave me to seal the treaty with the blood of Turnus; his life is\nnow forfeited to me.\u201d While thus he pleaded and protested there came an\narrow, shot by an unknown hand, and struck him in the hip. Grievously\nhurt \u00c6neas was compelled to seek shelter behind a friendly shield, and\nretired to the rear, leaving the field open to Turnus.\n\nGreat was the joy of the fierce Rutulian when he saw his enemy disabled\nand the bravest of the Trojan leaders withdrawn from the conflict, in\nanxious attendance on their injured chief. Mounting his car he lashed his\ncoursers to a gallop, and scoured the plain, ravaging the ranks of the\nTrojans and trampling them down by scores.\n\nMeanwhile \u00c6neas had retreated to the camp, and was standing, surrounded\nby his friends, with the arrow still planted deep in his flesh. The most\nskilful leech in the Trojan army was a certain Iapis, whom Apollo had\nloved in his youth, and offered to endow with his own gifts as archer,\nharper, and seer; but he, that he might prolong the life of his father,\nwho was sick unto death, chose rather to learn the virtues of healing\nherbs and all the physician\u2019s lore. He now arrived, in answer to a\nhasty summons, and employed all his skill to draw the barbed arrow from\nthe wound. But all his efforts were in vain; the arrow clung fast, and\nrefused to stir. Louder and louder grew the roar of battle; nearer and\nnearer came the dense columns of the enemy, and their javelins began to\nfall thick in the very center of the camp.\n\nVenus saw her son\u2019s dire strait, and came to his aid, bearing in her hand\na bunch of dittany, a plant of wondrous healing powers, with downy leaves\nand purple flower, often cropped by the wild goats when they are wounded\nby the hunter\u2019s shaft. Unseen of any Venus drew near, and dropped the\nmagic herb into the vessel containing the water with which Iapis was\nbathing the wound. The leech, all unknowing, continued his ministrations;\nand instantly, at the first touch of that powerful remedy, all pain\ndeparted, the flow of blood was stanched, and the arrow dropped harmless\nto the ground. \u201cThis is no work of my skill,\u201d said Iapis in a voice full\nof awe; \u201cthe hand of a god has been here.\u201d Completely healed, with all\nhis pristine vigor restored, \u00c6neas resumed his armor, and kissing Iulus,\nwho was standing near, he seized his spear, and charged into the thickest\nof the fight, followed close by the other Trojan chiefs.\n\nJuturna saw him coming, and, trembling for her brother\u2019s life, she\napproached the car of Turnus, and flinging Metiscus, his charioteer,\nin the dust, herself put on his likeness, and seized the reins. Driven\nnow by no mortal hand, the car flew hither and thither with miraculous\nspeed, wheeling and darting in giddy circles, like a swallow pursuing her\ntiny prey. \u00c6neas panted in pursuit, scorning every other foe, with eye\nand foot and hand all directed against Turnus, and Turnus alone; now he\nseemed to be gaining, and pressed forward, calling on his enemy to stand;\nand the next moment his prey was snatched from his grasp, like a hare\ndoubling to avoid the fangs of a hound. Messapus, seeing him absorbed\nin the chase, and thinking to catch him unawares, flung a javelin, and\nstruck off the plumes from his helmet. Then at last \u00c6neas gave reins to\nhis anger, and, abandoning the pursuit of Turnus, fell upon the foes who\nwere nearest, and strewed the field with indiscriminate carnage.\n\nThus fate for the moment kept the two rivals apart, and they fought in\ndifferent parts of the field, like devastating fires which fall upon a\nforest from opposite quarters, wasting the timber, till with a roar they\nmeet. At length \u00c6neas paused from the work of destruction, and, glancing\nbackward at the city, saw the walls feebly manned and the path to the\ngates lying open. Such an opportunity was not to be neglected. Hastily\nsummoning those next to himself in command he pointed to the walls, and\nsaid: \u201cThere is the point at which we must strike, and that speedily. If\nthe Latins will not confess themselves beaten, this day I will raze their\ncity to the ground. Gather your men, and prepare to carry the place by\nstorm.\u201d\n\nWild was the dismay among the inhabitants of Laurentum when they saw\nthe Trojans and Tuscans advancing in full force, with scaling ladders,\nbattering-rams, and torches, to the assault. Some rushed to the\nbattlements, determined to resist to the last; others cried that the\ngates must be opened to the enemy; and a third party broke into the\npalace, and dragged the unhappy Latinus into the streets, vowing that\nthey would hand him over to the vengeance of \u00c6neas. All was panic,\nconfusion, and uproar, as in a nest of wild bees smoked to death by a\nshepherd who seeks to rifle their store. In the midst of this disorder an\nevent occurred which gave the last blow to those who still favored the\ncause of Turnus. When the queen saw the approaching attack on the city\nshe at once concluded that Turnus had fallen, and, full of remorse for\nthe part which she had played, she went and hanged herself from a high\nbeam in her chamber.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEATH OF TURNUS\n\nBy H. L. Havell\n\n\nTurnus, whose car was still driven by the disguised Juturna, had been\ncarried in pursuit of some straggling Trojans to the farthest verge of\nthe plain. Suddenly his ears were caught by a wild, tumultuous cry from\nthe distant city, and, laying his hand on the reins, he brought the\nchariot to a stand. \u201cWhy haltest thou?\u201d asked the pretended Metiscus.\n\u201cLeave thy comrades to defend the walls, and continue the work of\nslaughter here, where there is none to oppose thee.\u201d Turnus answered:\n\u201cSister, I knew thee from the first, and recognized thy hand in all the\nwild havoc of this day. But vain are all thy labors; Heaven is against\nme, and I must bow to the will of fate. I have seen all the noblest of my\ncomrades slain before my eyes; shall I suffer this royal city to be given\nup to fire and slaughter for my sake? Shall I play coward, and make my\nname a byword for Drances and his crew? No, if Heaven is against me, be\nye at least with me, ye noble spirits of the dead! Prepare to receive me,\na stainless soul, worthy to be numbered among the mightiest of my line.\u201d\n\nScarcely had he spoken when a Rutulian horseman, wounded in the face\nby an arrow, came galloping towards him, shouting: \u201cTurnus, what doest\nthou here? Thou art our last hope and refuge; the city is beset, Amata\nhas died by her own hand; but few of thy friends remain to keep up a\ndesperate defence. Come quickly, for dire is the need.\u201d As if to give\npoint to his words, at this very moment the flames were seen leaping\nfrom a huge wooden tower built on a projection of the walls. For a while\nTurnus stood as if stupefied, overcome by the conflicting passions which\nsurged within him. Then, collecting himself with a strong effort, he\nsaid: \u201c\u2019Tis enough; my fate calls me, and I obey. Let me strike one\ngood blow first, and then let death take his due.\u201d Thereupon he sprang\nfrom the chariot, and, running at full speed, broke his way through the\nfighting lines, like a great boulder sapped in its foundations by the\nwinter rains and toppled from a mountain\u2019s crest. \u201cMake way,\u201d he cried;\n\u201cdrop your weapons, ye Rutulians and Latins. This is my quarrel, not\nyours, and I am come to pay the price.\u201d\n\nBoth sides fell back, and left an open space for the final encounter\nbetween the two great champions. \u201cAt last!\u201d murmured \u00c6neas as he came\ntowering on, and took his stand, \u201clike Teneriffe or Atlas unremoved,\u201d\nface to face with his giant foe. First they flung their spears, and,\nthese not taking effect, they drew their swords, and engaged hand to\nhand. Loud clashed the steel, and a stream of lightning seemed to play\nabout their heads, so fast and furious were the strokes. Like two bulls\nfighting for the sovereignty of the herd, while the kine stand lowing\nnear, so strove the Italian and the Trojan for the mastery, foot to foot\nand shield to shield. At length Turnus lifted high his sword, and, coming\ndown with the whole weight of his body, discharged a tremendous blow at\nthe crest of \u00c6neas. The weapon belonged to Metiscus, his charioteer,\nand he had snatched it up in mistake for his own good blade, which had\nbeen tempered by the hand of Vulcan himself. And now the faithless sword\nproved its mortal temper, and was shivered to the hilt like glass. With a\nbitter curse the Rutulian turned his back, and fled, and \u00c6neas followed\nclose, though still somewhat disabled by his recent wound. Hither and\nthither they sped, pursuer and pursued, as a keen hound chases the flying\ndeer, brought to bay by a high rocky mountain-side; the stag wheels and\ndoubles, and the hound\u2019s jaws close with a snap, as his quarry eludes him\nagain.\n\nTurnus shouted to his comrades, imploring them to bring his sword, but\n\u00c6neas warned them off with threatening gestures; and so the race went on,\nwhich was run for no common stake, but for the very life blood of Turnus.\n\nWhen \u00c6neas flung his spear at the beginning of the duel the weapon had\nsunk deep into the stump of an olive-tree; the tree itself, which was\nsacred to Faunus, had been felled by the Trojans, and rolled out of the\nway, on the morning before the battle. Catching sight of the spear as he\nran past in pursuit of Turnus, \u00c6neas paused, and strove to tear it out.\nIn wild terror Turnus watched his efforts, and cried: \u201cFaunus, god of my\nfathers, hold the weapon fast, and preserve thy worshiper!\u201d Faunus heard\nhis prayer, and kept the iron point close pinned in the knotted roots of\nhis sacred tree; and while \u00c6neas was still tugging and straining at the\nshaft, Juturna, again disguised as Metiscus, ran up to Turnus, and gave\nhim back his sword. Thereupon Venus, angered by the presumption of the\nnymph, drew near in her turn, wrenched out the lance, and handed it to\nher son. Their weapons thus restored the champions stood face to face\nonce more, prepared to renew the battle.\n\nBut the end was now at hand. Jove sat watching the rival warriors,\nand weary that the inevitable issue should be so long delayed he thus\naddressed his haughty consort: \u201cJuno, how long must I suffer thee to\nthwart my high purpose? Thou knowest that it is in vain. Surely thy hate\nshould now be satisfied, after so many years in which thy malice has\nranged unchecked and strewn the path of \u00c6neas with death and disaster.\nThe word must now be spoken: Cease; I forbid thee to go further.\u201d Juno\nanswered humbly: \u201cBe it so! I also am weary of the fray, and will resist\nno more. One thing only I ask, which fate forbids thee not to grant: when\nthe two peoples have united into one, let the language and the dress\nand the customs of Italy survive, and let the whole nation be called\nthe Latins. Troy has perished; let her name perish also.\u201d Jove smiled\nindulgently as he replied: \u201cTrue daughter of Saturn, still unappeasable\nin thine ire, it shall be as thou sayest. Latins they shall be called,\nand they shall be thy people, mighty in word and deed, and laud and honor\nthy name for ever.\u201d\n\nThe old quarrel thus happily concluded, Jove prepared to end the conflict\nbetween \u00c6neas and Turnus. Close by his throne two hideous warders lie\ncouched day and night, sisters of the Furies, and armed with the same\nattributes of terror, with serpent tresses, and windy wings. One of\nthese the monarch of heaven sent to warn Juturna that she must leave her\nbrother\u2019s side. Like a poisoned arrow shot from a Parthian\u2019s bow the\ndaughter of Night sped down to earth, and as she came in sight of the\nTrojan and Latin armies, she took the shape of that ill-omened bird who\nsits among tombs and ruined towers, and sends her moaning cry through\nthe darkness. In such shape the fiend dashed herself against the face of\nTurnus, and buffeted his shield with her wings.\n\nTurnus was paralyzed with horror; his hair bristled, and the passage\nof his voice was choked. But when Juturna heard the beating of those\nfatal pinions she tore her hair, and beat her breast, knowing that her\nbrother\u2019s hour was come. \u201cTurnus, I can do no more,\u201d she cried. \u201cWould\nthat I might die with thee! But, alas! Jove has made me immortal, and\ndoomed me to eternal sorrow.\u201d Then, veiling her face in her azure mantle,\nthe nymph left the battlefield, and sat rocking herself in anguish by the\nriver-side.\n\n\u00c6neas came on, brandishing his massy spear, and crying: \u201cNow at last thou\nart delivered into my hands, unless thou canst fly up to heaven or dig\nthee a burrow in the earth.\u201d \u201cThy words have no terrors for me,\u201d replied\nTurnus, \u201cbut much I fear that Heaven is against me.\u201d And without more\nwords he looked round him, and saw a huge ancient stone, set up long\nago as a boundary mark. Stooping he caught up the ponderous mass, which\nscarce twelve men could lift, as men are in our times; with one hand he\nheaved it above his head, and poised and flung it, running at full speed.\nIt was his last effort, and he felt as he made it that his powers were\nfailing. The stone fell short, and Turnus stood gazing, struck with a\nstrange impotence, like one in a trance; the whole scene swam before his\neyes, woods, hills, and city walls, and the faces of his friends, like\nvisions in a fevered dream.\n\nWhile thus he faltered \u00c6neas poised his lance, took steady aim and flung.\nLike some vast missile hurled by a siege engine the giant spear rushed to\nits mark, pierced through the lower edge of the sevenfold shield, and,\nrending the border of the corslet with a grating sound, transfixed the\nmiddle of his thigh. A deep groan went up from the ranks of the Rutulians\nwhen they saw their young hero lying, helpless and bleeding, on the sand.\n\nWith hands outstretched and eyes imploring mercy Turnus uttered this\nhumble prayer: \u201cThou hast conquered; Lavinia is thine; now pity my\nfather\u2019s gray hairs, and give him back his son, or if thou must have my\nlife at least restore my body to him for burial.\u201d \u00c6neas paused, lowering\nhis sword and rolling his eyes, in doubt whether to strike or spare; and\npity began to prevail more and more in his heart when his gaze fastened\non the fatal belt, which Turnus had won from the youthful Pallas, and was\nwearing on his shoulder. Then grief and anger blazed up in his soul, and\nhe cried in a terrible voice: \u201cWretch, dost thou ask for mercy with that\nemblem of sorrow on thy breast? Pallas, Pallas claims thee as his victim,\nand cries aloud for thy guilty blood.\u201d\n\nThe avenging steel was lifted, and flashed, and fell; and that mighty\nframe lay shuddering in death, while his soul, indignant, fled moaning to\nthe shades.\n\n\n\n\nSTORIES FROM ROMAN HISTORY\n\nFROM LIVY\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ROMULUS AND OF NUMA\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\n\u00c6neas of Troy, coming to the land of Italy, took to wife Lavinia,\ndaughter of King Latinus, and built him a city, which he called Lavinium,\nafter the name of his wife. And, after thirty years, his son Ascanius\nwent forth from Lavinium with much people, and built him a new city,\nwhich he called Alba. In this city reigned kings of the house and lineage\nof \u00c6neas for twelve generations. Of these kings the eleventh in descent\nwas one Procas, who, having two sons, Numitor and Amulius, left his\nkingdom, according to the custom, to Numitor, the elder. But Amulius\ndrave out his brother, and reigned in his stead. Nor was he content with\nthis wickedness, but slew all the male children of his brother. And the\ndaughter of his brother, that was named Rhea Silvia, he chose to be a\npriestess of Vesta, making as though he would do the maiden honor, but\nhis thought was that the name of his brother should perish, for they that\nserve Vesta are vowed to perpetual virginity.\n\nBut it came to pass that Rhea bare twin sons, whose father, it was said,\nwas the god Mars. Very wroth was Amulius when he heard this thing; Rhea\nhe made fast in prison, and the children he gave to certain of his\nservants that they should cast them into the river. Now it chanced that\nat this season Tiber had overflowed his banks, neither could the servants\ncome near to the stream of the river; nevertheless they did not doubt\nthat the children would perish, for all that the overflowing of the water\nwas neither deep nor of a swift current. Thinking then that they had\nduly performed the commandment of the king, they set down the babes in\nthe flood and departed. But after a while the flood abated, and left the\nbasket wherein the children had been laid on dry ground. And a she-wolf,\ncoming down from the hill to drink at the river (for the country in those\ndays was desert and abounding in wild beasts), heard the crying of the\nchildren and ran to them. Nor did she devour them, but gave them suck;\nnay, so gentle was she that Faustulus, the king\u2019s shepherd, chancing to\ngo by, saw that she licked them with her tongue. This Faustulus took the\nchildren and gave them to his wife to rear; and these, when they were\nof age to go by themselves, were not willing to abide with the flocks\nand herds, but were hunters, wandering through the forests that were in\nthose parts. And afterward, being now come to full strength, they were\nnot content to slay wild beasts only, but would assail troops of robbers,\nas these were returning laden with their booty, and would divide the\nspoils among the shepherds. Now there was held in those days, on the\nhill that is now called the Palatine, a yearly festival to the god Pan.\nThis festival King Evander first ordained, having come from Arcadia, in\nwhich land, being a land of shepherds, Pan that is the god of shepherds\nis greatly honored. And when the young men and their company (for they\nhad gathered a great company of shepherds about them, and led them in\nall matters both of business and of sport) were busy with the festival,\nthere came upon them certain robbers that had made an ambush in the\nplace, being very wroth by reason of the booty which they had lost.\nThese laid hands on Remus, but Romulus they could not take, so fiercely\ndid he fight against them. Remus, therefore, they delivered up to King\nAmulius, accusing him of many things and chiefly of this, that he and\nhis companions had invaded the land of Numitor, dealing with them in the\nfashion of an enemy and carrying off much spoil. To Numitor, therefore,\ndid the king deliver Remus, that he might put him to death. Now Faustulus\nhad believed from the beginning that the children were of the royal\nhouse, for he knew that the babes had been cast into the river by the\nking\u2019s command, and the time also of his finding them agreed thereto.\nNevertheless he had not judged it expedient to open the matter before due\ntime, but waited till occasion or necessity should arise. But now, there\nbeing such necessity, he opened the matter to Romulus. Numitor also,\nwhen he had the young man Remus in his custody, knowing that he and his\nbrother were twins, and that the time agreed, and seeing that they were\nof a high spirit, bethought him of his grandsons; and, indeed, having\nasked many questions of Remus, was come nigh to knowing of what race he\nwas. And now also Romulus was ready to help his brother. To come openly\nwith his whole company he dared not, for he was not a match for the\npower of King Amulius; but he bade sundry shepherds make their way to the\npalace, each as best he could, appointing to them a time at which they\nshould meet. And now came Remus also, with a troop of youths gathered\ntogether from the household of Numitor. Then did Romulus and Remus slay\nKing Amulius. In the meanwhile Numitor gathered the youth of Alba to the\ncitadel, crying out that they must make the place safe, for that the\nenemy was upon them; but when he perceived that the young men had done\nthe deed, forthwith he called an assembly of the citizens, and set forth\nto them the wickedness which his brother had wrought against him, and how\nhis grandsons had been born and bred and made known to him, and then, in\norder, how the tyrant had been slain, himself having counselled the deed.\nWhen he had so spoken the young men came with their company into the\nmidst of the assembly, and saluted him as King; to which thing the whole\nmultitude agreeing with one consent, Numitor was established upon the\nthrone.\n\nAfter this Romulus and his brother conceived this purpose, that, leaving\ntheir grandfather to be king at Alba, they should build for themselves\na new city in the place where, having been at the first left to die,\nthey had been brought up by Faustulus the shepherd. And to this purpose\nmany agreed both of the men of Alba and of the Latins, and also of\nthe shepherds that had followed them from the first, holding it for\ncertain all of them that Alba and Lavinium would be of small account in\ncomparison of this new city which they should build together. But while\nthe brothers were busy with these things, there sprang up afresh the same\nevil thing which had before wrought such trouble in their house, even the\nlust of power. For though the beginnings of the strife between them were\npeaceful, yet did it end in great wickedness. The matter fell out in this\nwise. Seeing that the brothers were twins, and that neither could claim\nto have the preference to the other in respect of his age, it was agreed\nbetween them that the gods that were the guardians of that country should\nmake known by means of augury which of the two they chose to give his\nname to the new city. Then Romulus stood on the Palatine hill, and when\nthere had been marked out for him a certain region of the sky, watched\ntherein for a sign; and Remus watched in like manner, standing on the\nAventine. And to Remus first came a sign, six vultures; but so soon as\nthe sign had been proclaimed there came another to Romulus, even twelve\nvultures. Then they that favored Remus clamored that the gods had chosen\nhim for king, because he had first seen the birds; and they that favored\nRomulus answered that he was to be preferred because he had seen more in\nnumber. This dispute waxed so hot that they fell to fighting; and in the\nfight it chanced that Remus was slain. But some say that when Romulus\nhad marked out the borders of the town which he would build, and had\ncaused them to build a wall round it, Remus leapt over the wall, scorning\nit because it was mean and low; and that Romulus slew him, crying out,\n\u201cThus shall every man perish that shall dare to leap over my walls.\u201d Only\nothers will have it that though he perished for this cause Romulus slew\nhim not, but a certain Celer. This much is certain, that Romulus gained\nthe whole kingdom for himself and called the city after his own name.\n\nAfter this the people bethought themselves how they should get for\nthemselves wives, for there were no women in the place. Wherefore Romulus\nsent ambassadors to the nations round about, praying that they should\ngive their daughters to his people for wives. \u201cCities,\u201d he said, \u201chave\nhumble beginnings even as all other things. Nevertheless they that have\nthe gods and their own valor to help become great. Now that the gods are\nwith us, as ye know, be assured also that valor shall not be wanting.\u201d\nBut the nations round about would not hearken to him, thinking scorn of\nthis gathering of robbers and slaves and runaways, so that they said,\n\u201cWhy do ye not open a sanctuary for women also that so ye may find\nfit wives for your people?\u201d Also they feared for themselves and their\nchildren what this new city might grow to. Now when the ambassadors\nbrought back this answer the Romans were greatly wroth, and would take by\nforce that which their neighbors would not give of their free will. And\nto the end that they might do this more easily, King Romulus appointed\ncertain days whereon he and his people would hold a festival with games\nto Neptune; and to this festival he called all them that dwelt in the\ncities round about. But when many were gathered together (for they were\nfain to see what this new city might be), and were now wholly bent on\nthe spectacle of the games, the young men of the Romans ran in upon\nthem, and carried off all such as were unwedded among the women. To these\nKing Romulus spake kindly, saying, \u201cThe fault is not with us but with\nyour fathers, who dealt proudly with us, and would not give you to us in\nmarriage. But now ye shall be held in all honor as our wives, and shall\nhave your portion of all that we possess. Put away therefore your anger,\nfor ye shall find us so much the better husbands than other men, as we\nmust be to you not for husbands only but parents also and native country.\u201d\n\nAfter this, King Tatius and the Sabines came up against Rome with a great\narmy. And first of all they gained the citadel by treachery in this\nmanner. One Tarpeius was governor of the citadel, whose daughter, Tarpeia\nby name, going forth from the walls to fetch water for a sacrifice, took\nmoney from the king that she should receive certain of the soldiers\nwithin the citadel; but when they had been so received, the men cast\ntheir shields upon her, slaying her with the weight of them. This they\ndid either that they might be thought to have taken the place by force,\nor that they judged it to be well that no faith should be kept with\ntraitors. Some also tell this tale, that the Sabines wore great bracelets\nof gold on their left arms, and on their left hands fair rings with\nprecious stones therein, and that when the maiden covenanted with them\nthat she should have for a reward that which they carried in their left\nhands, they cast their shields upon her. And others say that she asked\nfor their shields, having the purpose to betray them, and for this cause\nwas slain.\n\nThus the Sabines had possession of the citadel; and the next day King\nRomulus set the battle in array on the plain that lay between the hill of\nthe Capitol and the hill of the Palatine. And first the Romans were very\neager to recover the citadel, a certain Hostilius being their leader.\nBut when this man, fighting in the forefront of the battle, was slain,\nthe Romans turned their backs and fled before the Sabines, even unto the\ngate of the Palatine. Then King Romulus (for he himself had been carried\naway by the crowd of them that fled) held up his sword and his spear to\nthe heavens, and cried aloud, \u201cO Jupiter, here in the Palatine didst\nthou first, by the tokens which thou sentest me, lay the foundations of\nmy city. And lo! the Sabines have taken the citadel by wicked craft,\nand have crossed the valley, and are come up even hither. But if thou\nsufferest them so far, do thou at the least defend this place against\nthem, and stay this shameful flight of my people. So will I build a\ntemple for thee in this place, even a temple of Jupiter the Stayer, that\nmay be a memorial to after generations of how thou didst this day save\nthis city.\u201d And when he had so spoken, even as though he knew that the\nprayer had been heard, he cried, \u201cYe men of Rome, Jupiter bids you stand\nfast in this place and renew the battle.\u201d And when the men of Rome heard\nthese words, it was as if a voice from heaven had spoken to them, and\nthey stood fast, and the king himself went forward and stood among the\nforemost. Now the leader of the Sabines was one Curtius. This man, as he\ndrave the Romans before him, cried out to his comrades, \u201cSee, we have\nconquered these men, false hosts and feeble foes that they are! Surely\nnow they know that it is one thing to carry off maidens and another to\nfight with men.\u201d But whilst he boasted himself thus, King Romulus and\na company of the youth rushed upon him. Now Curtius was fighting on\nhorseback, and being thus assailed he fled, plunging into a certain pool\nwhich lay between the Palatine hill and the Capitol. Thus did he barely\nescape with his life, and the lake was called thereafter Curtius\u2019 pool.\nAnd now the Sabines began to give way to the Romans, when suddenly the\nwomen for whose sake they fought, having their hair loosened and their\ngarments rent, ran in between them that fought, crying out, \u201cShed ye not\neach other\u2019s blood ye that are fathers-in-law and sons-in-law to each\nother. But if ye break this bond that is between you, slay us that are\nthe cause of this trouble. And surely it were better for us to die than\nto live if we be bereaved of our fathers or of our husbands.\u201d With these\nwords they stirred the hearts both of the chiefs and of the people, so\nthat there was suddenly made a great silence. And afterward the leaders\ncame forth to make a covenant; and these indeed so ordered matters that\nthere was not peace only, but one state where there had been two. For the\nSabines came to Rome and dwelt there; and King Romulus and King Tatius\nreigned together. Only, after a while, certain men of Lanuvium slew King\nTatius as he was sacrificing to the gods at Lavinium; and thereafter\nRomulus only was king as before.\n\nWhen he had reigned thirty and seven years there befell the thing that\nshall now be told. On a certain day he called the people together on the\nfield of Mars, and held a review of his army. But while he did this there\narose suddenly a great storm with loud thunderings and very thick clouds,\nso that the king was hidden away from the eyes of all the people. Nor\nindeed was he ever again seen upon the earth.\n\nAnd now it was needful that another king should be chosen. No man in\nthose days was more renowned for his righteousness and piety than a\ncertain Numa Pompilius that dwelt at Cures in the land of the Sabines.\nNow it seemed at first to the Senate that the Sabines would be too\npowerful in the state if the king should be chosen from among them,\nnevertheless because they could not agree upon any other man, at last\nwith one consent they decreed that the kingdom should be offered to him.\nAnd Numa was willing to receive it if only the gods consented. And the\nconsent of the gods was asked in this fashion. Being led by the augur\ninto the citadel, he sat down on a stone with his face looking toward\nthe south, and on his left hand sat the augur, having his head covered\nand in his hand an augur\u2019s staff, which is a wand bent at the end and\nhaving no knot. Then looking toward the city and the country round\nabout, he offered prayers to the gods and marked out the region of the\nsky from the sunrising to the sunsetting; the parts toward the south he\ncalled the right; and the parts toward the north he called the left; and\nhe set a boundary before as far as his eye could reach. After this he\ntook his staff in his left hand and laid his right on the head of Numa,\npraying in these words: \u201cFather Jupiter, if it be thy will that this Numa\nPompilius, whose head I hold, should be King of Rome, show us, I pray\nthee, clear tokens of this thy will within the space which I have marked\nout.\u201d He then named the tokens which he desired, and when they had been\nshown, Numa was declared to be king.\n\nMany other things did King Numa set in order for his people. First he\ndivided the year into twelve months, each month being according to the\ncourse of the moon, and in every twenty-fourth year another month, that\nthe year might so agree with the course of the sun. Also he appointed\ncertain lawful days for business, and other days on which nothing might\nbe done. He made priests also, of whom the chief was the priest of\nJupiter, to whom he gave splendid apparel and a chair of ivory. Two other\npriests he made, one of Mars, and the other of Quirinus, that is to say,\nof Romulus the god. And he chose virgins for the service of Vesta, who\nshould keep alive the sacred fire, and twelve priests of Mars, whom he\ncalled the Salii, to be keepers of the sacred shield. (This shield, men\nsaid, fell down from heaven, and that it might be kept the more safely,\nKing Numa commanded that they should make eleven other shields like unto\nit.) This shield and its fellows the Salii were to carry through the\ncity, having on flowered tunics and breastplates of brass, and dancing\nand singing hymns. And many other things as to the worship of the gods,\nand the interpreting of signs, and the dealing with marvels and portents,\nKing Numa set in order. And that the people might regard these laws and\ncustoms with the more reverence, he gave out that he had not devised them\nof his own wit, but that he had learnt them from a certain goddess whose\nname was Egeria, whom he was wont to meet in a grove that was hard by the\ncity.\n\nKing Numa died, having reigned forty and three years; and the people\nchose in his room one Tullus Hostilius.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ALBA\n\nBy Alfred J. Church\n\n\nKing Tullus Hostilius, being newly come to the throne, looked about for\nan occasion of war; for the Romans had now for a long time been at peace.\nNow it chanced that in those days the men of Rome and the men of Alba\nhad a quarrel, the one against the other, the country folk being wont to\ncross the border and to plunder their neighbors; and that ambassadors\nwere sent from either city to seek restitution of such things as had been\ncarried off. King Tullus said to his ambassador, \u201cDelay not to do your\nbusiness so soon as ye shall be come to Alba\u201d; knowing that the men of\nAlba would certainly refuse to deliver up the things, and thinking that\nhe could thus with a good conscience proclaim war against them. As for\nthe ambassadors of Alba, when they were come to Rome, they made no haste\nabout their business, but ate and drank, the king entertaining them with\nmuch courtesy and kindness. While therefore they feasted with him, there\ncame back the ambassadors of Rome telling the king how they had made\ndemand for the things carried off, and when the men of Alba had refused\nto deliver them, had declared war within the space of thirty days. Which\nwhen the king heard, he called to him the ambassadors of Alba, and said\nto them, \u201cWherefore are ye come to Rome? Set forth now your mission.\u201d\nThen the men, not knowing what had befallen, began to make excuse,\nsaying, \u201cWe would not willingly say aught that should displease the king,\nbut we are constrained by them that have sent us thither. We are come to\nask for the things that your country folk have carried off. And, if ye\nwill not deliver them up, we are bidden to declare war against you.\u201d To\nthis Tullus made answer, \u201cNow do I call to the gods to witness that ye\nmen of Alba first refused to repair the thing that has been done amiss,\nand I pray them that they will bring all the blood of this war upon your\nheads.\u201d And with this message the men of Alba went home.\n\nAfter this the two cities made great preparations for war. And because\nthe men of Troy had built Lavinium, from which some going forth had\nset up the city of Alba, and from the royal house of Alba had come the\nfounder of Rome, it was as though the children would fight against their\nfathers. Yet it came not to this, the matter being finished without a\nbattle. The men of Alba first marched into the land of the Romans, having\nwith them a very great army, and pitched their camp five miles from the\ncity, digging about it a deep ditch. But while they lay in this camp\ntheir King Cluilius died, and a certain Mettus was made dictator in his\nroom. Which when King Tullus heard, he became very bold, saying that the\ngods had smitten Cluilius for his wrong-doing, and would smite also the\nwhole people of Alba. Whereupon he marched into the land of the Albans,\nleaving the enemy\u2019s camp to one side. And when these also had come forth\nagainst him, and the two armies were now drawn up in battle array, the\none against the other, there came a messenger to King Tullus, saying that\nMettus of Alba desired to have speech with him, having that to say to him\nwhich concerned the Romans not less than the men of Alba. Nor did King\nTullus refuse to hear him, though indeed battle had pleased him better\nthan speech. So when the king and certain nobles with him had gone forth\ninto the open space that was between the two armies, and Mettus also with\nhis companions had come to the same place, this last spake, saving, \u201cI\nhave heard King Cluilius that is dead affirm that your wrong-doing, ye\nmen of Rome, in that ye would not deliver up the things that had been\ncarried off, was the cause of this war; nor do I doubt but that thou,\nKing Tullus, hast the same quarrel against us. Yet if we would speak\nthat which is true rather than that which has a fair show, we should, I\ndoubt not, confess that we, though we be both kinsmen and neighbors, are\ndriven into this war by the lust of power. Now I say not whether this\nbe just or no. Let others look to this; for I am not king of Alba, but\ncaptain of the host only. Yet there is a matter which I would fain call\nto thy mind, king. Thou knowest the Etruscans, how mighty they are both\nby land and sea; for indeed they are nearer by far to thee at Rome than\nto us at Alba. Bethink thee, therefore, how, when thou shalt give the\nsignal of battle between thy army and our army, the same Etruscans will\nlook on, rejoicing to see us fight together; and how, when the battle is\nended, they will fall upon us, having us at disadvantage; for of a truth,\nwhether ye or we prevail, we shall have but little strength remaining to\nus. If therefore we be not content with the freedom that we have, but\nmust needs set on the chance of a die whether we shall be masters or\nservants, let us devise some way by which the one may win dominion over\nthe other without great loss and shedding of blood.\u201d Now King Tullus was\na great warrior, and would willingly have fought, being confident that he\nand his people would prevail; nevertheless the thing that Mettus of Alba\nhad said pleased him. And when they came to consider the matter, there\nseemed by good fortune to be a way ready to their hands. There were in\nthe army of Alba three brothers that had been born at one birth, whose\nname was Curiatius. And in the army of the Romans there were other three\nand these born likewise at one birth, whose name was Horatius. Nor was\nthere much difference in respect either of age or of strength between the\nbrothers of Alba and the brothers of Rome. Then King Tullus and Mettus\nof Alba called for the brothers, and inquired of them whether they were\nwilling to fight each three for their own country, agreement being first\nmade that that people should bear rule forever whose champions should\nprevail in the battle. And as the young men were willing, a place was\nappointed for the battle and a time also. But first there was made a\ntreaty in this fashion, for the fashion of making treaties is the same\nalways, though their conditions be different. The herald said, \u201cWilt\nthou, King Tullus, that I make a treaty with the minister of the people\nof Alba?\u201d And when the king answered \u201cYea,\u201d the herald said, \u201cI will that\nthou give me the sacred herbs.\u201d Then the king made reply, \u201cTake them, and\nsee that they be clean.\u201d So the herald took them clean from the hill of\nthe citadel. Having done this, he said to the king, \u201cDost thou appoint\nme to do the pleasure of the people of Rome, me and my implements and\nmy attendants with me?\u201d And the king answered, \u201cSo that it be without\ndamage to the people of Rome.\u201d Then the herald appointed one Spurius to\nbe minister that he should take the oath, and touched his hair with the\nsacred herbs. And when Spurius had taken the oath, and the conditions of\nthe treaty had been read aloud, he spake, saying, \u201cHear thou, Jupiter,\nand thou also, minister of the people of Alba, and ye men of Alba; as\nthese conditions have been duly read aloud this day from the beginning\neven to the end from these tables, and after the interpretation by\nwhich they may be the most easily understood, even so shall the Roman\npeople abide by them. And if this people, acting by common consent,\nshall falsely depart from them, then do thou, O Jupiter, smite the Roman\npeople, even as I shall smite this swine to-day. And smite them by so\nmuch the more strongly as thou art stronger than I.\u201d And when he had said\nthis he smote the swine with a knife of stone. The men of Alba also took\nthe oath, and confirmed it after their own fashion. These things having\nbeen thus ordered, the champions made them ready for battle. And first\ntheir fellows exhorted them severally in many words, saying that the\ngods of their country, their countrymen also and kinsfolk, whether they\ntarried at home or stood in the field, regarded their arms that day; and\nafterward they went forth into the space that lay between the two armies.\nAnd these sat and watched them before their camps, being quit indeed of\nthe peril of battle, but full of care how the matter should end, seeing\nthat so great things, even sovereignty and freedom, should be decided by\nthe valor and good luck of so few men. Then the signal of battle being\ngiven, the three met the three with such courage and fierceness as though\nthere were a whole army on either side. And as their swords rang against\neach other and flashed, all men trembled to see, and could scarcely speak\nor breathe for fear of what should happen. And for a while, in so narrow\na space did the men fight, nought could be seen but how they swayed to\nand fro, and how the blood ran down upon the ground. But afterward it\nwas plain to see that of the three Romans two were fallen dead upon the\nground, and that of the three champions of Alba each man was wounded.\nAt this sight the Alban host shouted for joy, but the men of Rome had\nno more any hope but only fear to think what should befall their one\nchampion that had now three enemies against him. Now, by good luck, it\nhad so fallen out that this one had received no wound, so that, though\nhe was no match for the three together, he did not doubt but that he\nshould prevail over them severally one by one. Wherefore, that he might\nso meet them, dividing them the one from the other, he made a feint to\nfly, thinking that they would follow him each as quickly as his wound\nmight suffer him. And so it fell out. For when he had fled now no small\nspace from the ground where they had fought at the first, he saw, looking\nbehind him, that the three were following him at a great distance one\nfrom the other, and that one was very near to himself. Then he turned\nhimself and ran fiercely upon the man; and behold even while the men of\nAlba cried aloud to the two that they should help their brother, he had\nslain him, and was now running toward the second. And when the men of\nRome saw what had befallen, they set up a great shout, as men are wont\nwhen they have good luck beyond their hopes; and their champion made such\nhaste to do his part that or ever the third of the Alban three could\ncome up, though indeed he was close at hand, he had slain the second\nalso. And now, seeing that there remained one only on either side, there\nwas in some sort an equality, yet were the two not equal either in hope\nor in strength. For the champion of Rome had suffered no wound, and\nhaving overcome his foes now once and again was full of courage; but the\nchampion of Alba being now spent with his wound, and wearied also with\nrunning, was as it were vanquished already. Nor indeed was there a battle\nbetween the two; for the Roman cried, \u201cOne and another of my foes I have\noffered to the spirits of my brothers; but this third will I offer to\nthe cause for which we have fought this day, even that Rome may have\nthe dominion over Alba.\u201d And when the champion of Alba could now scarce\nbear up his shield, he stood over and ran his sword downward into his\nthroat. Afterward as the man lay dead upon the ground, he spoiled him\nof his arms. Then did the men of Rome receive their champion with much\nrejoicing, having all the more gladness because they had been in so great\nfear. Afterward each host set themselves to bury their dead, whose tombs\nremain to this day, each in the spot where he fell, for the two Romans\nare buried in one sepulcher nearer to Alba, and the three champions of\nAlba as you go toward Rome, but with somewhat of space between them, even\nas they fought.\n\nAnd now the men of Rome went back to the city, and Horatius went before\nthem, carrying the spoils of the three whom he had slain. But at the\nCapene gate there met him his sister, who was betrothed to one of the\nchampions of Alba; and when the maiden saw upon his shoulders the cloak\nof her betrothed (and indeed she had wrought it with her own hands)\nshe tore her hair and cried to the dead man by name with a lamentable\nvoice. But Horatius was wroth to hear the words of mourning on the day\nwhen he had won so great a victory and the people rejoiced; and he drew\nhis sword and slew the maiden, crying, \u201cDepart hence to thy lover with\nthe love that thou cherishest out of season; thou that forgettest thy\nbrethren that are dead, and thy brother that is yet alive, and thine own\npeople also. So perish whosoever shall make lamentations for an enemy\nof Rome.\u201d And when the fathers and the commons saw what was done, they\nthought it a wicked deed, but remembered what great service the man had\nnewly rendered to Rome. Nevertheless they laid hands on him and took him\nto the king that he should judge him. But the king being loath to judge\nsuch a matter, or to give sentence against the man, said, \u201cI appoint two\nmen as the law commands, who shall judge Horatius for murder.\u201d Now the\nlaw was this: \u201cIf a man do murder, two men shall judge him; if he appeal\nagainst the two, let the appeal be tried; if their sentence be confirmed,\nye shall cover his head and scourge him within the walls or without\nthe walls, and hang him by a rope upon the gallows.\u201d Then there were\nappointed two men according to the law, who affirmed that they could not\nlet the man go free, whether his guilt was small or great, seeing that\nhe had manifestly done the deed. Therefore said one of them, \u201cPublius\nHoratius, we adjudge thee to be guilty of murder. Go, lictor, bind his\nhands.\u201d But when the lictor came and was now ready to cast the rope about\nhim, Horatius cried, \u201cI appeal to the people;\u201d for the king himself,\nbeing mercifully disposed to him, bade him do so. Then was there a trial\nbefore the people, in which that which most wrought upon the hearts of\nmen was that the father of Horatius constantly affirmed that his daughter\nhad been rightly slain. \u201cNay,\u201d said he, \u201cverily, if the young man had not\nslain her, I had used against him my right as a father, and had condemned\nhim to die.\u201d Then again he besought them that they should not leave him\ndesolate and bereaved of his children, he who but the day before had\nhad so fair a stock. Afterward, throwing his arms about the young man,\nhe stretched out his hands to the spoils of the Curiatii, crying, \u201cWill\nye endure, men of Rome, to see him bound under the gallows and beaten\nwith stripes whom ye beheld but yesterday adorned with these spoils and\nrejoicing in his victory? Not so. Surely the men of Alba themselves had\nnot borne to see such a sight. Go, lictor, bind his hands, though but\nyesterday they won so great a dominion for the people of Rome. Go, cover\nthe head of him that made this people free; hang him upon the accursed\ntree; scourge him, whether within the walls, so that thou do it among the\nspoils of them that he slew, or without the walls, so that it be near\nto the sepulchers of the champions of Alba. Whither can ye take this\nyouth that the memorials of his valor shall not save him from so foul\na punishment?\u201d And when the people saw the tears of the old man, and\nbethought them also what great courage the youth had shown in danger,\nthey could not endure to condemn him; but regarding his valor rather than\nthe goodness of his cause, let him go free. Only, because the deed had\nbeen so manifest, a command was laid upon the father that he should make\na trespass offering for his son at the public charge. Then the father,\nhaving made certain sacrifices of expiation\u2014which are performed to this\nday in the house of Horatius\u2014set up a beam across the way and covered his\nson\u2019s head, and led him beneath it. As for the maiden, they built her\ntomb of hewn stone in the place where she was slain.\n\nNow the men of Alba were wroth to think that the fortunes of the whole\npeople had been thus trusted to the hands of three soldiers; and Mettus,\nbeing of an unstable mind, was led away to evil in his desire to do\nthem a pleasure. And as before he had sought for peace when others were\ndesirous of war, so now he desired war when others were minded to be at\npeace. But because he knew that the men of Alba were not able of their\nown strength to do that which they desired, he stirred up certain others\nof the nations round about, that they should make war openly against\nRome. As for himself and his people, he purposed that they should seem\nindeed to be friends and allies, but should be ready for treachery when\noccasion served. Thereupon the men of Fiden\u00e6, being colonists from Rome,\nand the men of Veii promised that they would make war, and Mettus on\nhis part promised that he would come over to them with his army in the\nbattle. First the men of Fiden\u00e6 rebelled, and King Tullus marched against\nthem, bidding Mettus come also with his army, and having crossed the\nriver Anio, pitched his camp where Anio flows into the Tiber. And by\nthis time the men of Veii also had come up with their army, and these\nwere on the right wing next to the river, and the men of Fiden\u00e6 on the\nleft, next to the mountains. The ordering of King Tullus was that he and\nhis men should do battle with the men of Veii, and Mettus and the Albans\nwith the men of Fiden\u00e6. Now Mettus, as he was not minded to do right, so\nhad no courage to do wrong boldly; and because he dared not to go over\nto the enemy, led his men away slowly toward the mountains. Being come\nthither, he set out his men in battle array, being minded to join them\nwhom he should perceive to prevail. At first the Romans marvelled that\nMettus and his men should so depart from them; and after a while they\nsent a messenger to the king, saying, \u201cThe men of Alba have left us.\u201d\nThen the king knew in his heart that there was treachery, and he vowed\nthat he would build temples to Paleness and Panic, if he should win the\nvictory that day. Nevertheless he showed no sign of fear, but cried to\nthe horsemen with a loud voice, that the enemy might hear, saying, \u201cGo\nthou back to the battle, and bid thy comrades be of good courage. Mettus\ndoes my bidding that he may take the men of Fiden\u00e6 in the rear.\u201d Also\nhe bade the cavalry raise their spears in the air, that so the Romans\nmight, for the most part, be hindered from seeing that the men of Alba\nhad deserted them; and they that saw, believing what the king had said,\nfought with the more courage. Then there fell a great fear upon the\nenemy, for these also had heard the saying, which, being in the Latin\ntongue, was understood of the men of Fiden\u00e6. They, therefore, fearing\nlest Mettus and the army of Alba should come down from the mountains and\nshut them off from their town, began to give ground. And when the king\nhad broken their array, he turned the more fiercely on the men of Veii.\nThese also fled before him, but were hindered from escape by the river.\nAnd some, throwing away their arms, ran blindly into the water, and some\nwhile they lingered on the bank, and knew not whether they should fight\nor fly, so perished. Never before had the Romans so fierce a fight with\ntheir enemies. After this the king spoke in this fashion, \u201cMen of Rome,\nif ever before ye had occasion to give thanks for victory won, first to\nthe immortal gods, and secondly to your own valor, such occasion ye found\nin the battle of yesterday. For ye fought not only with the enemy, but\nwith that from which there is peril greater by far, even treachery in\nallies. I would not have you ignorant of the truth. It was not by any\nordering of mine that the men of Alba went toward the mountains. I gave\nno such command; yet did I feign that I had given it to this end, that ye\nmight not know that we were deserted, and so might fight with the better\ncourage, and that our enemies, thinking that they should be assailed from\nbehind, might be stricken with fear and so fly before us. Yet I say not\nthat all the men of Alba are guilty of this matter. They followed their\ncaptain, even as ye, men of Rome, would have followed me whithersoever I\nmight have led you. Mettus only is guilty. He contrived this departure,\neven as he brought about this war, and brake the covenant that was\nbetween Alba and Rome. And what he hath done others may dare hereafter,\nif I do not so deal with him that he shall be an ensample for all that\ncome after.\u201d Then the captains of hundreds, having arms in their hands,\nlaid hold upon Mettus. After this the king spake again: \u201cMay the gods\nbless to the people of Rome, and to me, and to you also, men of Alba,\nthat which I purpose to do. For my purpose is to carry away the people of\nAlba to Rome; the commons of Alba will I make citizens of Rome, and the\nnobles will I number among our senators. So shall there be one city and\none commonwealth.\u201d When the men of Alba heard these words, all had not\nthe same mind about the matter, but all kept silence, fearing to speak,\nbecause being without arms they were compassed on every side with armed\nmen.\n\nThen said the king, \u201cMettus, if indeed thou couldst learn faith and the\nkeeping of treaties, I had suffered thee to live that thou mightest have\nsuch teaching from me. But now, seeing that thy disease is past healing,\nthou shalt teach other men to hold in reverence the holy things which\nthou hast despised. For even as thou wast divided in heart between Rome\nand Fiden\u00e6, so shall thy body be divided.\u201d Then, at the king\u2019s bidding,\nthey brought two chariots, with four horses harnessed to each of them;\nand binding the body of Mettus to the chariots, they drave the horses\ndivers ways so that the man was torn asunder.\n\nBut because Alba was thus brought to destruction, Rome increased greatly;\nfor the number of the citizens was increased twofold. The C\u0153lian hill\nwas added to the city, in which hill, that others might the more readily\ndwell there, the king himself commanded that they should build him\na palace. Also the chief houses of Alba, as the house of Julius and\nof Servilius, were chosen into the Senate; and that there might be a\nplace of meeting for the Senate being thus multiplied, the king built a\ntemple and called it Hostilia, after his own name. Also ten squadrons of\nhorsemen were chosen out of the men of Alba.\n\nNow the end of King Tullus was this. There came a pestilence upon\nthe land. And when for this cause the people were wearied of war,\nnevertheless the king, both because he delighted in war, and because\nhe believed that the young men should have better health if they went\nabroad than if they tarried at home, gave them no rest. But after a while\nhe also fell into a tedious sickness, which so brake him both in body\nand mind that, whereas in time past he thought it unworthy of a king to\nbusy himself with matters of religion, now he gave himself up wholly\nto superstition, and filled the minds of his people also with the like\nthoughts, so that they regarded nothing but this, how they should make\natonement to the gods, and so be rid of their present distress. As for\nthe king himself, men say that reading the sacred book of King Numa he\nfound therein certain sacrifices, very secret and solemn, that should be\ndone to Jupiter by such as would bring him down from heaven, and that he\nshut himself up to do these sacrifices; but because he set not about them\nrightly or did than not in due form, there appeared to him no similitude\nof the immortal gods (for such he had hoped to see); but Jupiter, having\ngreat wrath at such unlawful dealings, struck him with lightning and\nconsumed both him and his house.","title":"The Junior Classics, Volume 3: Tales from Greece and Rome","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":140756}