{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_XXVI/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_XXVI","id":"wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_XXVI","license":"Public Domain / CC-BY-SA (see source)","rights_basis":"wikisource_site_inclusion_policy","source":"wikisource","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Age_of_Fable/Chapter_XXVI","summary":null,"tags":["Headers_applying_DefaultSort_key","Subpages"],"text":"ENDYMION \u2014 ORION \u2014 AURORA AND TITHONUS \u2014 ACIS AND GALATEA\n\nDIANA AND ENDYMION\n\nEndymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock on Mount Latmos.\nOne calm, clear night Diana, the moon, looked down and saw him\nsleeping. The cold heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by his\nsurpassing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him, and\nwatched over him while he slept.\n\nAnother story was that Jupiter bestowed on him the gift of\nperpetual youth united with perpetual sleep. Of one so gifted we\ncan have but few adventures to record. Diana, it was said, took\ncare that his fortunes should not suffer by his inactive life, for\nshe made his flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs from\nthe wild beasts.\n\nThe story of Endymion has a peculiar charm from the human meaning\nwhich it so thinly veils. We see in Endymion the young poet, his\nfancy and his heart seeking in vain for that which can satisfy\nthem, finding his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, and\nnursing there beneath the beams of the bright and silent witness\nthe melancholy and the ardor which consumes him. The story\nsuggests aspiring and poetic love, a life spent more in dreams\nthan in reality, and an early and welcome death.\u2014S. G. B.\n\nThe \"Endymion\" of Keats is a wild and fanciful poem, containing\nsome exquisite poetry, as this, to the moon:\n\n\"... The sleeping kine\n\nCouched in thy brightness dream of fields divine.\n\nInnumerable mountains rise, and rise,\n\nAmbitious for the hallowing of thine eyes,\n\nAnd yet thy benediction passeth not\n\nOne obscure hiding-place, one little spot\n\nWhere pleasure may be sent; the nested wren\n\nHas thy fair face within its tranquil ken;\" etc., etc.\n\nDr. Young, in the \"Night Thoughts,\" alludes to Endymion thus:\n\n\"... These thoughts, O night, are thine;\n\nFrom thee they came like lovers' secret sighs,\n\nWhile others slept. So Cynthia, poets feign,\n\nIn shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere,\n\nHer shepherd cheered, of her enamoured less\n\nThan I of thee.\"\n\nFletcher, in the \"Faithful Shepherdess,\" tells:\n\n\"How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove,\n\nFirst saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes\n\nShe took eternal fire that never dies;\n\nHow she conveyed him softly in a sleep,\n\nHis temples bound with poppy, to the steep\n\nHead of old Latmos, where she stoops each night,\n\nGilding the mountain with her brother's light,\n\nTo kiss her sweetest.\"\n\nORION\n\nOrion was the son of Neptune. He was a handsome giant and a mighty\nhunter. His father gave him the power of wading through the depths\nof the sea, or, as others say, of walking on its surface.\n\nOrion loved Merope, the daughter of \u0152nopion, king of Chios, and\nsought her in marriage. He cleared the island of wild beasts, and\nbrought the spoils of the chase as presents to his beloved; but as\nOenopion constantly deferred his consent, Orion attempted to gain\npossession of the maiden by violence. Her father, incensed at this\nconduct, having made Orion drunk, deprived him of his sight and\ncast him out on the seashore. The blinded hero followed the sound\nof a Cyclops' hammer till he reached Lemnos, and came to the forge\nof Vulcan, who, taking pity on him, gave him Kedalion, one of his\nmen, to be his guide to the abode of the sun. Placing Kedalion on\nhis shoulders, Orion proceeded to the east, and there meeting the\nsun-god, was restored to sight by his beam.\n\nAfter this he dwelt as a hunter with Diana, with whom he was a\nfavorite, and it is even said she was about to marry him. Her\nbrother was highly displeased and often chid her, but to no\npurpose. One day, observing Orion wading through the sea with his\nhead just above the water, Apollo pointed it out to his sister and\nmaintained that she could not hit that black thing on the sea. The\narcher-goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim. The waves rolled\nthe dead body of Orion to the land, and bewailing her fatal error\nwith many tears, Diana placed him among the stars, where he\nappears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and club.\nSirius, his dog, follows him, and the Pleiads fly before him.\n\nThe Pleiads were daughters of Atlas, and nymphs of Diana's train.\nOne day Orion saw them and became enamoured and pursued them. In\ntheir distress they prayed to the gods to change their form, and\nJupiter in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them a\nconstellation in the sky. Though their number was seven, only six\nstars are visible, for Electra, one of them, it is said left her\nplace that she might not behold the ruin of Troy, for that city\nwas founded by her son Dardanus. The sight had such an effect on\nher sisters that they have looked pale ever since.\n\nMr. Longfellow has a poem on the \"Occultation of Orion.\" The\nfollowing lines are those in which he alludes to the mythic story.\nWe must premise that on the celestial globe Orion is represented\nas robed in a lion's skin and wielding a club. At the moment the\nstars of the constellation, one by one, were quenched in the light\nof the moon, the poet tells us\n\n\"Down fell the red skin of the lion\n\nInto the river at his feet.\n\nHis mighty club no longer beat\n\nThe forehead of the bull; but he\n\nReeled as of yore beside the sea,\n\nWhen blinded by Oenopion\n\nHe sought the blacksmith at his forge,\n\nAnd climbing up the narrow gorge,\n\nFixed his blank eyes upon the sun.\"\n\nTennyson has a different theory of the Pleiads:\n\n\"Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising through the mellow shade,\n\nGlitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.\"\n\n\u2014Locksley Hall.\n\nByron alludes to the lost Pleiad:\n\n\"Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below.\"\n\nSee also Mrs. Hemans's verses on the same subject.\n\nAURORA AND TITHONUS\n\nThe goddess of the Dawn, like her sister the Moon, was at times\ninspired with the love of mortals. Her greatest favorite was\nTithonus, son of Laomedon, king of Troy. She stole him away, and\nprevailed on Jupiter to grant him immortality; but, forgetting to\nhave youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to\ndiscern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old. When\nhis hair was quite white she left his society; but he still had\nthe range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was clad in\ncelestial raiment. At length he lost the power of using his limbs,\nand then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice\nmight at times be heard. Finally she turned him into a\ngrasshopper.\n\nMemnon was the son of Aurora and Tithonus. He was king of the\n\u00c6thiopians, and dwelt in the extreme east, on the shore of Ocean.\nHe came with his warriors to assist the kindred of his father in\nthe war of Troy. King Priam received him with great honors, and\nlistened with admiration to his narrative of the wonders of the\nocean shore.\n\nThe very day after his arrival, Memnon, impatient of repose, led\nhis troops to the field. Antilochus, the brave son of Nestor, fell\nby his hand, and the Greeks were put to flight, when Achilles\nappeared and restored the battle. A long and doubtful contest\nensued between him and the son of Aurora; at length victory\ndeclared for Achilles, Memnon fell, and the Trojans fled in\ndismay.\n\nAurora, who from her station in the sky had viewed with\napprehension the danger of her son, when she saw him fall,\ndirected his brothers, the Winds, to convey his body to the banks\nof the river Esepus in Paphlagonia. In the evening Aurora came,\naccompanied by the Hours and the Pleiads, and wept and lamented\nover her son. Night, in sympathy with her grief, spread the heaven\nwith clouds; all nature mourned for the offspring of the Dawn. The\n\u00c6thiopians raised his tomb on the banks of the stream in the\ngrove of the Nymphs, and Jupiter caused the sparks and cinders of\nhis funeral pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing into two\nflocks, fought over the pile till they fell into the flame. Every\nyear at the anniversary of his death they return and celebrate his\nobsequies in like manner. Aurora remains inconsolable for the loss\nof her son. Her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morning\nin the form of dew-drops on the grass.\n\nUnlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, there still exist\nsome memorials of this. On the banks of the river Nile, in Egypt,\nare two colossal statues, one of which is said to be the statue of\nMemnon. Ancient writers record that when the first rays of the\nrising sun fall upon this statue a sound is heard to issue from\nit, which they compare to the snapping of a harp-string. There is\nsome doubt about the identification of the existing statue with\nthe one described by the ancients, and the mysterious sounds are\nstill more doubtful. Yet there are not wanting some modern\ntestimonies to their being still audible. It has been suggested\nthat sounds produced by confined air making its escape from\ncrevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some ground for\nthe story. Sir Gardner Wilkinson, a late traveller, of the highest\nauthority, examined the statue itself, and discovered that it was\nhollow, and that \"in the lap of the statue is a stone, which on\nbeing struck emits a metallic sound, that might still be made use\nof to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe its\npowers.\"\n\nThe vocal statue of Memnon is a favorite subject of allusion with\nthe poets. Darwin, in his \"Botanic Garden,\" says:\n\n\"So to the sacred Sun in Memnon's fane\n\nSpontaneous concords choired the matin strain;\n\nTouched by his orient beam responsive rings\n\nThe living lyre and vibrates all its strings;\n\nAccordant aisles the tender tones prolong,\n\nAnd holy echoes swell the adoring song.\"\n\nBook I., 1., 182.\n\nACIS AND GALATEA\n\nScylla was a fair virgin of Sicily, a favorite of the Sea-Nymphs.\nShe had many suitors, but repelled them all, and would go to the\ngrotto of Galatea, and tell her how she was persecuted. One day\nthe goddess, while Scylla dressed her hair, listened to the story,\nand then replied, \"Yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the not\nungentle race of men, whom, if you will, you can repel; but I, the\ndaughter of Nereus, and protected by such a band of sisters, found\nno escape from the passion of the Cyclops but in the depths of the\nsea;\" and tears stopped her utterance, which when the pitying\nmaiden had wiped away with her delicate finger, and soothed the\ngoddess, \"Tell me, dearest,\" said she, \"the cause of your grief.\"\nGalatea then said, \"Acis was the son of Faunus and a Naiad. His\nfather and mother loved him dearly, but their love was not equal\nto mine. For the beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, and\nhe was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to darken\nhis cheeks. As much as I sought his society, so much did the\nCyclops seek mine; and if you ask me whether my love for Acis or\nmy hatred of Polyphemus was the stronger, I cannot tell you; they\nwere in equal measure. O Venus, how great is thy power! this\nfierce giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless stranger\nescaped unharmed, who defied even Jove himself, learned to feel\nwhat love was, and, touched with a passion for me, forgot his\nflocks and his well-stored caverns. Then for the first time he\nbegan to take some care of his appearance, and to try to make\nhimself agreeable; he harrowed those coarse locks of his with a\ncomb, and mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harsh\nfeatures in the water, and composed his countenance. His love of\nslaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood prevailed no more,\nand ships that touched at his island went away in safety. He paced\nup and down the sea-shore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavy\ntread, and, when weary, lay tranquilly in his cave.\n\n\"There is a cliff which projects into the sea, which washes it on\neither side. Thither one day the huge Cyclops ascended, and sat\ndown while his flocks spread themselves around. Laying down his\nstaff, which would have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail,\nand taking his instrument compacted of numerous pipes, he made the\nhills and the waters echo the music of his song. I lay hid under a\nrock by the side of my beloved Acis, and listened to the distant\nstrain. It was full of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingled\nwith passionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty.\n\n\"When he had finished he rose up, and, like a raging bull that\ncannot stand still, wandered off into the woods. Acis and I\nthought no more of him, till on a sudden he came to a spot which\ngave him a view of us as we sat. 'I see you,' he exclaimed, 'and I\nwill make this the last of your love-meetings.' His voice was a\nroar such as an angry Cyclops alone could utter. \u00c6tna trembled at\nthe sound. I, overcome with terror, plunged into the water. Acis\nturned and fled, crying, 'Save me, Galatea, save me, my parents!'\nThe Cyclops pursued him, and tearing a rock from the side of the\nmountain hurled it at him. Though only a corner of it touched him,\nit overwhelmed him.\n\n\"All that fate left in my power I did for Acis. I endowed him with\nthe honors of his grandfather, the river-god. The purple blood\nflowed out from under the rock, but by degrees grew paler and\nlooked like the stream of a river rendered turbid by rains, and in\ntime it became clear. The rock cleaved open, and the water, as it\ngushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing murmur.\"\n\nThus Acis was changed into a river, and the river retains the name\nof Acis.\n\nDryden, in his \"Cymon and Iphigenia,\" has told the story of a\nclown converted into a gentleman by the power of love, in a way\nthat shows traces of kindred to the old story of Galatea and the\nCyclops.\n\n\"What not his father's care nor tutor's art\n\nCould plant with pains in his unpolished heart,\n\nThe best instructor, Love, at once inspired,\n\nAs barren grounds to fruitfulness are fired.\n\nLove taught him shame, and shame with love at strife\n\nSoon taught the sweet civilities of life.\"","title":"The Age of Fable/Chapter XXVI","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":2476}