Stories of God's and Heroes

1
STORIES OF GODS
AND HEROES
BY
THOMAS BULFINCH
NEW YORK
THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
33L.7AI
mo,
PRINTED TN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

PUBLISHERS' PREFACE
No new edition of Bulfinch's classic work can be con-

sidered complete without some notice of the American
scholar to whose wide erudition and painstaking care
it stands as a perpetual monument. ''The Age of Fable"
has come to be ranked with older books like "Pilgrim's
Progress," "Gulliver's Travels," "The Arabian Nights,"
"Robinson Crusoe/' and five or six other productions of
world-wide renown as a work with which every one
must claim some acquaintance before his education can
be called really complete. Many readers of the present
edition will probably recall coming in contact with the
work as children, and, it may be added, will no doubt
discover from a fresh perusal the source of numerous
bits of knowledge that have remained stored in their
minds since those early years. Yet to the majority of
this great circle of readers and students the name Bul-
finch in itself has no significance.
Thomas Bulfmch was a native of Boston, Mass., where
he was born in 1796. His boyhood was spent in that
city, and he prepared for college in the Boston schools.
He finished his scholastic training at Harvard College,
and after taking his degreewas for a period a teacher
in his home city. For a long time later in life he was
employed as an accountant in the Boston Merchants'
Bank. His leisure time he used for further pursuit of
the classical studies which he had begun at Harvard,
and his chief pleasure in life lay in writing out the re-
sults of his reading, in simple, condensed form for young
or busy readers. The plan he followed in this work, to
give it the greatest possible usefulness, is set forth in
the Author's Preface.
iii
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
If no other knowledge deserves to be called useful
but that which helps to enlarge our possessions or to
raise our station in society, then Mythology has no claim
to the appellation. But if that which tends to make us
happier and better can be called useful, then we claim
that epithet for our subject. For Mythology is the
handmaid of literature; and literature is one of the best
allies of virtue and promoters of happiness.
Without a knowledge of mythology much of the ele-
gant literature of our own language cannot be under-
stood and appreciated. When Byron calls Rome "the
Niobe of nations," or says of Venice, "She looks a Sea-
Cybele fresh from ocean/' he calls up to the mind of
one familiar with our subject, illustrations more vivid
and striking than the pencil could furnish, but which
are lost to the reader ignorant of mythology. Milton
abounds in similar allusions. The short poem "Comus"
contains more than thirty such, and the ode "On the
Morning of the Nativity" half as many. Through
"Paradise Lost" they are scattered profusely. This is
one reason why we often hear persons by no means il-
literate say that they cannot enjoy Milton. But were
these persons to add to their more solid acquirements the
easy learning of this little volume, much of the poetry
of Milton which has appeared to them "harsh and
crabbed" would be found "musical as is Apollo's lute."
Our citations, taken from more than twenty-five poets,
from Spenser to Longfellow, will show how general has
been the practice of borrowing illustrations from myth-
ology.
The prose writers also avail themselves of the same
source of elegant and suggestive illustration. One can
hardly take up a number of the "Edinburgh" or "Quar-
y
vi AUTHOR'S PREFACE
terly Review" without meeting with instances. In Ma-
caulay's article on Milton there are twenty such.
But how is mythology to be taught to one who does
not learn it through the medium of the languages of
Greece and Rome ? To devote study to a species of learn-
ing which relates wholly to false marvels and obsolete
faiths is not to be expected of the general reader in a
practical age like this. The time even of the young is
claimed by so many sciences of facts and things that
little can be spared for set treatises on a science of mere
fancy.
But may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be
acquired by reading the ancient poets in translations?
We reply, the field is too extensive for a preparatory
course; and these very translations require some pre-
vious knowledge of the subject to make them intelli-
gible. Let any one who doubts it read the first page
of the "yEneid," and see what he can make of "the hatred
of Juno," the "decree of the Parcae," the "judgment of
Paris," and the "honors of Ganymede," without this
knowledge.
Shall we be told that answers to such queries may
be found in notes, or by a reference to the Classical
Dictionary? We reply, the interruption of one's read-
ing by either process is so annoying that most readers
prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehended rather than
submit to it. Moreover, such sources give us only the
dry facts without any of the charm of the original nar-
rative; and what is a poetical myth when stripped of
its poetry? The story of Ceyx and Halcyone, which
fills a chapter in our book, occupies but eight lines
in the best (Smith's) Classical Dictionary; and so of
others.
Our work an attempt to solve this problem, by
is
mythology in such a manner as to
telling the stories of
make them a source of amusement. We have endeav-
ored to tell them correctly, according to the ancient
authorities, so that when the reader finds them referred
to he may not be at a loss to recognize the reference.
Thus we hope to teach mythology not as a study, but as
a relaxation from study; to give our work the charm
AUTHOR'S PREFACE vii
of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a knowledge

of an important branch of education. The index at the
end will adapt it to the purposes of reference, and make
it a Classical Dictionary for the parlor.
Most of the classical legends in "Stories of Gods and

Heroes" are derived from Ovid and Virgil. They are
not literally translated, for, in the author's opinion,
poetry translated into literal prose is very unattractive
reading. Neither are they in verse, as well for other
reasons as from a conviction that to translate faithfully
under all the embarrassments of rhyme and measure is
impossible. The attempt has been made to tell the stories
in prose, preserving so much of the poetry as resides in
the thoughts and is separable from the language itself,
and omitting those amplifications which are not suited to
the altered form.
The Northern mythological stories are copied with
some abridgment from Mallet's "Northern Antiquities."
These chapters, with those on Oriental and Egyptian
mythology, seemed necessary to complete the subject,
though it is believed these topics have not usually
been presented in the same volume with the classical
fables.
The poetical citations so freely introduced are ex-
pected to answer several valuable purposes. They will
tend to fix in memory the leading fact of each story, they
will help to the attainment of a correct pronunciation of
the proper names, and they will enrich the memory with
many gems of poetry, some of them such as are most
frequently quoted or alluded to in reading and con-
versation.
Having chosen mythology as connected with litera-
ture for our province, we have endeavored to omit noth-
ing which the reader of elegant literature is likely to
find occasion for. Such stories and parts of stories as
are offensive to pure taste and good morals are not given.
But such stories are not often referred to, and if they
occasionally should be, the English reader need feel
no mortification in confessing his ignorance of them.
Our work is not for the learned, nor for the theolo-
gian, nor for the philosopher, but for the reader of
viii AUTHOR'S PREFACE
English literature, of either sex, who wishes to com-
prehend the allusions so frequently made by public
speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, and those which
occur in polite conversation.
In the "Stories of Gods and Heroes" the compiler has

endeavored to impart the pleasures of classical learning
to the English reader, by presenting the stories of Pagan
mythology in a form adapted to modern taste. In "King
Arthur and His Knights" and "The Mabinogeon" the
attempt has been made to treat in the same way the
stories of the second "age of fable," the age which
witnessed the dawn of the several states of Modern
Europe.
It is believed that this presentation of a literature
which held unrivalled sway over the imaginations of
our ancestors, for many centuries, will not be without
benefit to the reader, in addition to the amusement it
may afford. The tales, though not to be trusted for
their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures of man-
ners; and it is beginning to be held that the manners
and modes of thinking of an age are a more important
part of its history than the conflicts of its peoples, gen-
erally leading to no result. Besides this, the literature
of romance is a treasure-house of poetical material, to
which modern poets frequently resort. The Italian poets,
Dante and Ariosto, the English, Spenser, Scott, and Ten-
nyson, and our own Longfellow and Lowell, are ex-
amples of this.
These legends are so connected with each other, so
consistently adapted to a group of characters strongly
individualized in Arthur, Launcelot, and their compeers,
and so lighted up by the fires of imagination and inven-
tion, that they seem as well adapted to the poet's pur-
pose as the legends of the Greek and Roman mythology.
And if every well-educated young person is expected to
know the story of the Golden Fleece, why is the quest
of the Sangreal less worthy of his acquaintance? Or if
an allusion to the shield of Achilles ought not to pass
—
AUTHOR'S PREFACE ix
unapprehended, why should one to Excalibar, the famous

sword of Arthur?
"Of Arthur, who, to upper light restored,

With that terrific sword,
Which yet he brandishes for future war,
1
Shall lifthis country's fame above the polar star."
an additional recommendation of our subject, that

It is
it tends to cherish in our minds the idea of the source
from which we sprung. We
are entitled to our full
share in the glories and recollections of the land of our
forefathers, down to the time of colonization thence.
The associations which spring from this source must be
fruitful of good influences; among which not the least
valuable is the increased enjoyment which such associ-
ations afford to the American traveller when he visits
England, and sets his foot upon any of her renowned
localities.
Thomas Bulfinch.
The World of the Ancient Greeks and Romans, showing Locatj
it op Places mentioned in lt
Stories of Gods and Heroes.
CONTENTS
STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Introduction . I
II. Prometheus and Pandora ..... 12

III. Apollo and Daphne —
Pyramus and This-
be— Cephalus and Procris .... 19
IV. Juno and her Rivals, Io and Callisto —
Diana and Actaeon —
Latona and the
Rustics 28
V. Phaeton 38
VI. Midas — Baucis and Philemon .... 46
VII. Proserpine — Glaucus and Scylla ... 52
VIII. Pygmalion — Dryope — Venus and Ado-
nis — Apollo and Hyacinthus ... 62
IX. Ceyx and Halcyone 69
X. Vertumnus and Pomona — Iphis and
Anaxarete 76
XI. Cupid and Psyche 80
XII. Cadmus — The Myrmidons 91
XIII. Nisus and Scylla — Echo and Narcissus
— Clytie — Hero and Leander ... 98
XIV. Minerva and Arachne — Niobe . . . 107
XV. The Grsese and Gorgons — Perseus and
Medusa — Atlas — Andromeda . . . 115
XVI. Monsters: Giants — Sphinx — Pegasus
and Chimsera — Centaurs — — Griffin
Pygmies 122
XVII. The Golden Fleece — Medea .... 129
XVIII. Meleager and Atalanta 138
XIX. Hercules — Hebe and Ganymede . . . 143
xi
xii CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
XX. Theseus and Daedalus —
Castor and Pol-
lux —Festivals and Games .... 150
XXL Bacchus and Ariadne 160
XXII. The Rural — The Dryads and
Deities
Erisichthon — Rhcecus — Water Deities
— Camenae — Winds . . •
. . . . 166
XXIII. Achelous and Hercules — Admetus and
Alcestis — Antigone — Penelope . .
177
XXIV. Orpheus and Eurydice — Aristaeus —
Amphion — Linus — Thamyris — Mar-
syas — Melampus — Musaeus . . . 185
XXV. Arion — Ibycus — Simonides — Sappho . 194
XXVI. Endymion — Orion — Aurora and Titho-
nus — Acis and Galatea 204
XXVII. The Trojan War ........ 211
XXVIII. The Fall of Troy — Return of the Greeks
— Orestes and Electra 227
XXIX. Adventures of Ulysses — The Lotus-eaters
— The Cyclopes — Circe — Sirens —
Scylla and Charybdis — Calypso . . 236
XXX. The Phaeacians — Fate of the Suitors . . 247
XXXI. Adventures of y£neas — The Harpies —
Dido — Palinurus 258
XXXII. The Infernal Regions — The Sibyl . . 266
XXXIII. Êneas in — Camilla — Evander —
Italy
Nisus and Euryalus — Mezentius —
Turnus 276
XXXIV. Pythagoras — Egyptian Deities — Oracles 288
XXXV. Origin of Mythology— Statues of Gods
and Goddesses — Poets of Mythology . 300
XXXVI. Monsters (modern) — The Phcenix —
Basilisk — Unicorn — Salamander . . 310
XXXVII. Eastern Mythology — Zoroaster — Hindu
Mythology — Castes — Buddha — The
Grand Lama — Prester John. . . . 318
CONTENTS xiii
CHAPTER PAGE
XXXVIII. Northern Mythology — Valhalla — The

Valkyrior 328
XXXIX. Thor's Visit to Jotunheim 337
XL. The Death of Baldur—-The Elves —
Runic Letters —
Skalds —
Iceland —
Teutonic Mythology —The Nibelun-
gen Lied —
Wagner's Nibelungen Ring 343
XLL The Druids — Iona 358
Proverbial Expressions 367

List of Illustrative Passages Quoted erom the
Poets 369
Index and Dictionary 371
ILLUSTRATIONS
Brawn in color by Sybil Tawse
Theseus and Aithra (P. 150) Frontispiece

PAGE
Danae and Perseus 116
The Garden of the Nymphs 120
The Death of Acrisius 124
The Golden Fleece 132
Medeia and Talus 136
Theseus and Ariadne 152
The Sirens of Anthemousa 242

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CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
The religions of ancient Greece and Rome are ex-

tinct. The so-called divinities of Olympus have not a
single worshipper among living men. They belong now
not to the department of theology, but to those of liter-
ature and taste. There they still hold their place, and
will continue to hold it, for they are too closely con-
nected with the finest productions of poetry and art,
both ancient and modern, to pass into oblivion.
We propose to tell the stories relating to them which
have come down to us from the ancients, and which are
alluded to by modern poets, essayists, and orators. Our
readers may thus at the same time be entertained by
the most charming fictions which fancy has ever created,
and put in possession of information indispensable to
every one who would read with intelligence the elegant
literature of his own day.
In order to understand these stories, it will be neces-
sary to acquaint ourselves with the ideas of the structure
of the universe which prevailed among the Greeks
the people from whom the Romans, and other nations
through them, received their science and religion.
The Greeks believed the earth to be flat and cir-
cular, their own country occupying the middle of it, the
central point being either Mount Olympus, the abode
of the. gods, or Delphi, so famous for its oracle.
The circular disk of the earth was crossed from west
to east and divided into two equal parts by the Sea,
as they called the Mediterranean, and its continuation
1
2 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES
the Euxine, the only seas with which they were ac-
quainted.
Around the earth flowed the River Ocean, its course
being from south to north on the western side of the
earth, and in a contrary direction on the eastern side.
It flowed in a steady, equable current, unvexed by storm
or tempest. The sea, and all the rivers on earth, re-
ceived their waters from it.
The northern portion of the earth was supposed to
be inhabited by a happy race named the Hyperboreans,
dwelling in everlasting bliss and spring beyond the lofty
mountains whose caverns were supposed to send forth
the piercing blasts of the north wind, which chilled the
people of Hellas (Greece). Their country was inac-
cessible by land or sea. They lived exempt from dis-
ease or old age, from toils and warfare. Moore has
given us the "Song of a Hyperborean," beginning
"I come from a land in the sun-bright deep,

Where golden gardens glow,
Where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep,
Their conch shells never blow."
On the south side of the earth, close to the stream

of Ocean, dwelt a people happy and virtuous as the
Hyperboreans. They were named the /Ethiopians. The
gods favored them so highly that they were wont to
leave at times their Olympian abodes and go to share
their sacrifices and banquets.
On the western margin of the earth, by the stream of
Ocean, lay a happy place named the Elysian Plain,
whither mortals favored by the gods were transported
without tasting of death, to enjoy an immortality of
bliss. This happy region was also called the "Fortunate
Fields," and the "Isles of the Blessed."
We thus see that the Greeks of the early ages knew
little of any real people except those to the east and
south of their own country, or near the coast of the
Mediterranean. Their imagination meantime peopled
the western portion of this sea with giants, monsters,
and enchantresses while they placed around the disk
;
of the earth, which they probably regarded as of no

:
INTRODUCTION 3
great width, nations enjoying the peculiar favor of the

gods, and blessed with happiness and longevity.
The Dawn, the Sun, and the Moon were supposed
to rise out of the Ocean, on the eastern side, and to
drive through the air, giving light to gods and men.
The stars, also, except those forming the Wain or Bear,
and others near them, rose out of and sank into the
stream of Ocean. There the sun-god embarked in a
winged boat, which conveyed him round by the north-
ern part of the earth, back to his place of rising in the
east. Milton alludes to this in his "Comus":
"Now the gilded car of day

His golden axle doth allay
In the steep Atlantic stream,
And the slope Sun his upward beam
Shoots against the dusky pole,
Pacing towards the other goal
Of his chamber in the east."
The abode of the gods was on the summit of Mount

Olympus, in Thessaly. A gate of clouds, kept by the
goddesses named the Seasons, opened to permit the pas-
sage of the Celestials to earth, and to receive them on
their return. The gods had their separate dwellings but ;
all, when summoned, repaired to the palace of Jupiter,

as did also those deities whose usual abode was the
earth, the waters, or the underworld. It was also in
the great hall of the palace of the Olympian king that
the gods feasted each day on ambrosia and nectar, their
food and drink, the latter being handed round by the
lovely goddess Hebe. Here they conversed of the af-'
fairs of heaven and earth; and as they quaffed their
nectar, Apollo, the god of music, delighted them with the
tones of his lyre, to which the Muses sang in responsive
strains. When the sun was set, the gods retired to sleep
in their respective dwellings.
The following lines from the "Odyssey" will show
how Homer conceived of Olympus
"So saying, Minerva, goddess azure-eyed,
Rose to Olympus, the reputed seat
Eternal of the gods, which never storms
Disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm
The expanse and cloudless shines with purest day.
There the inhabitants divine rejoice
Forever." Cowper.
The robes and other parts of the dress of the god-

desses were woven by Minerva and the Graces and
everything of a more solid nature was formed of the
various metals. Vulcan was architect, smith, armorer,
chariot builder, and artist of all work in Olympus. He
built of brass the houses of the gods he made for them
;
the golden shoes with which they trod the air or the
water, and moved from place to place with the speed
of the wind, or even of thought. He also shod with
brass the celestial steeds, which whirled the chariots of
the gods through the air, or along the surface of the
sea. He was able to bestow on his workmanship self-
motion, so that the tripods (chairs and tables) could
move of themselves in and out of the celestial hall. He
even endowed with intelligence the golden handmaidens
whom he made to wait on himself.
1
Jupiter, or Jove (Zeus ), though called the father of
gods and men, had himself a beginning. Saturn (Cro-
nos) was his father, and Rhea (Ops) his mother. Sat-
urn and Rhea were of the race of Titans, who were
the children of Earth and Heaven, which sprang from
Chaos, of which we shall give a further account in our
next chapter.
There is another cosmogony, or account of the crea-
tion, according to which Earth, Erebus, and Love were
the first of beings. Love (Eros) issued from the egg
of Night, which floated on Chaos. By his arrows and
torch he pierced and vivified all things, producing life
and joy.
Saturn and Rhea were not the only Titans. There
were others, whose names were Oceanus, Hyperion,
Iapetus, and Ophion, males; and Themis, Mnemosyne,
Eurynome, females. They are spoken of as the elder
gods, whose dominion was afterwards transferred to
others. Saturn yielded to Jupiter, Oceanus to Nep-
J The names included in parentheses are the Greek, the others being the
Roman or Latin names.
INTRODUCTION 5
tune, Hyperion to Apollo. Hyperion was the father

of the Sun, Moon, and Dawn. He is therefore the
original sun-god, and is painted with the splendor and
beauty which were afterwards bestowed on Apollo.
"Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself."

Shakspeare.
Ophion and Eurynome ruled over Olympus till they

were dethroned by Saturn and Rhea. Milton alludes
to them in "Paradise Lost." He says the heathens seem
to have had some knowledge of the temptation and fall
of man.
"And fabled how the serpent, whom they called
Ophion, with Eurynome, (the wide-
Encroaching Eve perhaps,) had first the rule
Of high Olympus, thence by Saturn driven."
The representations given of Saturn are not very

consistent; for on the one hand his reign is said to have
been the golden age of innocence and purity, and on the
other he is described as a monster who devoured his
children. 1 Jupiter, however, escaped this fate, and when
grown up espoused Metis (Prudence), who adminis-
tered a draught to Saturn which caused him to disgorge
his children. Jupiter, with his brothers and sisters, now
rebelled against their father Saturn and his brothers
the Titans; vanquished them, and imprisoned some of
them in Tartarus, inflicting other penalties on others.
Atlas was condemned to bear up the heavens on his
shoulders.
On the dethronement of Saturn, Jupiter with his
brothers Neptune (Poseidon) and Pluto (Dis) divided
his dominions. Jupiter's portion was the heavens, Nep-
tune's the ocean, and Pluto's the realms of the dead.
Earth and Olympus were common property. Jupiter
was king of gods and men. The thunder was his weap-
on, and he bore a shield called iEgis, made for him by
1 This inconsistency arises from considering the Saturn of the Romans
the same with the Grecian deity Cronos (Time), which, as it brings
an end to all things which have had a beginning, may be said to devour
its own offspring.
Vulcan. The eagle was his favorite bird, and bore his
thunderbolts.
Juno (Hera) was the wife of Jupiter, and queen of
the gods. Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, was her
attendant and messenger. The peacock was her favorite
bird.
Vulcan (Hephsestos), the celestial artist, was the son
of Jupiter and Juno. He was born lame, and his
mother was so displeased at the sight of him that she
flung him out of heaven. Other accounts say that
Jupiter kicked him out for taking part with his mother
in a quarrel which occurred between them. Vulcan's
lameness, according to this account, was the consequence
of his fall. He was a whole day falling, and at last
alighted in the island of Lemnos, which was thence-
forth sacred to him. Milton alludes to this story in
"Paradise Lost," Book I.:
"... From morn
To noon he from noon to dewy eve,
fell,
A summer's day; and with the setting sun
Dropped from the zenith, like a falling star,
On Lemnos, the y£gean isle."
Mars (Ares), the god of war, was the son of

Jupiter and Juno.
Phoebus Apollo, the god of archery, prophecy, and
music, was the son of Jupiter and Latona, and brother
of Diana (Artemis). He was god of the sun, as Diana,
his sister, was the goddess of the moon.
Venus (Aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty,
was the daughter of Jupiter and Dione. Others say
that Venus sprang from the foam of the sea. The zephyr
wafted her along the waves to the Isle of Cyprus, where
she was received and attired by the Seasons, and then
led to the assembly of the gods. All were charmed
with her beauty, and each one demanded her for his
wife. Jupiter gave her to Vulcan, in gratitude for the
service he had rendered in forging thunderbolts. So
the most beautiful of the goddesses became the wife of
the most ill-favored of gods. Venus possessed an em-
broidered girdle called Cestus, which had the power of
:
INTRODUCTION 7
inspiring love. Her favorite birds were swans and

doves, and the plants sacred to her were the rose and
the myrtle.
Cupid (Eros), the god of love, was the son of Venus.
He was her constant companion; and, armed with bow
and arrows, he shot the darts of desire into the bosoms
of both gods and men. There was a deity named An-
teros, who was sometimes represented as the avenger
of slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of re-
ciprocal affection. The following legend is told of him:
Venus, complaining to Themis that her son Eros con-
tinued always a child, was told by her that it was be-
cause he was solitary, and that if he had a brother he
would grow apace. Anteros was soon afterwards born,
and Eros immediately was seen to increase rapidly in
size and strength.
Minerva (Pallas, Athene), the goddess of wisdom,
was the offspring of Jupiter, without a mother. She
sprang forth from his head completely armed. Her
favorite bird was the owl, and the plant sacred to her
the olive.
Byron, in "Guide Harold," alludes to the birth of
Minerva thus
"Can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be,
And Freedom find no champion and no child,
Such as Columbia saw arise, when she
Sprang forth a Pallas, armed and undefined?
Or must such minds be nourished in the wild,
Deep in the unpruned forest, 'midst the roar
Of cataracts, where nursing Nature smiled
On infant Washington? Has earth no more
Such seeds within her breast, or Europe no such shore?"
Mercury (Hermes) was the son of Jupiter and Maia.

He presided over commerce, wrestling, and other gym-
nastic exercises, even over thieving, and everything, in
short, which required skill and dexterity. He was the
messenger of Jupiter, and wore a winged cap and winged
shoes. He bore in his hand a rod entwined with two
serpents, called the caduceus.
Mercury is said to have invented the lyre. He
found, one day, a tortoise, of which he took the shell,
made holes in the opposite edges of it, and drew cords

of linen through them, and the instrument was com-
plete. The cords were nine, in honor of the nine Muses.
Mercury gave the lyre to Apollo, and received from
him in exchange the caduceus. 1
Ceres (Demeter) was the daughter of Saturn and
Rhea. She had a daughter named Proserpine (Per-
sephone), who became the wife of Pluto, and queen
of the realms of the dead. Ceres presided over agri-
culture.
Bacchus (Dionysus), the god of wine, was the son
of Jupiter and Semele. He represents not only the in-
toxicating power of wine, but its social and beneficent
influences likewise, so that he is viewed as the pro-
moter of civilization, and a lawgiver and lover of peace.
The Muses were the daughters of Jupiter and Mne-^
mosyne (Memory). They presided over song, and
prompted the memory. They were nine in number,
to each of whom was assigned the presidence oyer
some particular department of litera£urg, art, or science.
Calliope was the muse of epic poetry, Cliôf history,
Euterpe of lyric poetry, Melppmene of tragedy, Têrp.-
sichore of choral dance and song, Erato of love poetry,
Polyhymnia of sacred poetry, Urania of astronomy,
Thalia of comedy.
The Graces were goddesses presiding over the ban-
quet, the dance, and all social enjoyments and elegant
arts. They were three in number. Their names were
Euphrosyne, Aglaia, and Thalia.
Spenser describes the office of the Graces thus:
"These three on men all gracious gifts bestow

Which deck the body or adorn the mind,
To make them lovely or well-favored show;
As comely carriage, entertainment kind t>
Sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind,
And all the complements of courtesy;
1 From this origin of the instrument, the word "shell" is often used as
synonymous with "lyre," and figuratively for music and poetry. Thus
Gray, in his ode on the "Progress of Poesy," says:
"O Sovereign of the willing Soul,
Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares
And frantic Passions hear thy soft control."
INTRODUCTION 9
They teach us how to each degree and kind

We should ourselves demean, to low, to high,
To friends, to foes; which skill men call Civility."
—
The Fates were also three Clotho, Lachesis, and
Atropos. Their office was to spin the thread of human
destiny, and they were armed with shears, with which
they cut it off when they pleased. They were the
daughters of Themis (Law), who sits by Jove on his
throne to give him counsel.
The Erinnyes, or Furies, were three goddesses who
punished by their secret stings the crimes of those who
escaped or defied public justice. The heads of the
Furies were wreathed with serpents, and their whole
appearance was terrific and appalling. Their names
were Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaera. They were also
calledEumenides.
Nemesis was also an avenging goddess. She repre-
sents the righteous anger of the gods, particularly
towards the proud and insolent.
Pan was the god of flocks and shepherds. His fa-
vorite residence was in Arcadia.
The Satyrs were deities of the woods and fields.
They were conceived to be covered with bristly hair,
their heads decorated with short, sprouting horns, and
their feet like goats' feet.
Momus was the god of laughter, and Plutus the god
of wealth.
ROMAN DIVINITIES
The preceding are Grecian divinities, though received

also by the Romans. Those which follow are peculiar
to Roman mythology:
Saturn was an ancient Italian deity. It was at-
tempted to identify him with the Grecian god Cronos,
and fabled that after his dethronement by Jupiter he
fled to Italy, where he reigned during what was called
the Golden Age. In memory of his beneficent do-
minion, the feast of Saturnalia was held every year in
the winter season. Then all public business was sus-
pended, declarations of war and criminal executions
were postponed, friends made presents to one another,

and the slaves were indulged with great liberties. A
feast was given them at which they sat at stable, while
their masters served them, to show the natural equality
of men, and that all things belonged equally to all, in
the reign of Saturn.
Faunus, 1 the grandson of Saturn, was worshipped as
the god of fields and shepherds, and also as a pro-
phetic god. His name in the plural, Fauns, expressed
a class of gamesome deities, like the Satyrs of the
Greeks.
Quirinus was a war god, said to be no other than
Romulus, the founder of Rome, exalted after his death
to a place among the gods.
Bellona, a war goddess.
Terminus, the god of landmarks. His statue was a
rude stone or post, set in the ground to mark the boun-
daries of fields.
Pales, the goddess presiding over cattle and pas-
tures.
Pomona presided over fruit trees.
Flora, the goddess of flowers.
Lucina, the goddess of childbirth.
Vesta (the Hestia of the Greeks) was a deity pre-
siding over the public and private hearth. sacred A
fire, tended by six virgin priestesses called Vestals,
flamed in her temple. As the safety of the city was
held to be connected with its conservation, the neglect
of the virgins, if they let it go out, was severely pun-
ished, and the fire was rekindled from the rays of the
sun.
Liber is the Latin name of Bacchus; and Mulciber
of Vulcan.
Janus was the porter of heaven. He opens the year,
the first month being named after him. He is the
guardian deity of gates, on which account he is com-
monly represented with two heads, because every door
looks two ways. His temples at Rome were numer-
ous. In war time the gates of the principal one were
always open. In peace they were closed; but they
1 There was also a goddess called Fauna, or Bona Dea.
:
INTRODUCTION 31 11
were shut only once between the reign of Numa and

that of Augustus.
The Penates were the gods who were supposed to
attend to the welfare and prosperity of the family.
Their name is derived from Penus, the pantry, which
was sacred to them. Every master of a family was
the priest to the Penates of his own house.
The Lares, or Lars, were also household gods, but
differed from the Penates in being regarded as the dei-
fied spirits of mortals. The family Lars were held to
be the souls of the ancestors, who watched over and
protected their descendants. The words Lemur and
Larva more nearly correspond to our word Ghost.
The Romans believed that every man had his Genius,
and every woman her Juno that is, a spirit who had
:
given them being, and was regarded as their protector

through life. On their birthdays men made offerings
to their Genius, women to their Juno.
A modern poet thus alludes to some of the Roman
gods
"Pomona loves the orchard,
And Liber loves the vine,
And Pales loves the straw-built shed
Warm with the breath of kine;
And Venus loves the whisper
Of plighted youth and maid,
In April's ivory moonlight,
Beneath the chestnut shade."
— Macaulay, "Prophecy of Capys"
N.B. —
It is to be observed that in proper names the
final and es are to be sounded. Thus Cybele and
e
Penates are words of three syllables. But Proserpine
and Thebes are exceptions, and to be pronounced as
English words. In the Index at the close of the vol-
ume we shall mark the accented syllable in all words
which appear to require it.
:
CHAPTER II
PROMETHEUS AND PANDORA
The creation of the world a problem naturally

is
fitted to excite the liveliest interestof man, its inhabi-
tant. The ancient pagans, not having the information
on the subject which we derive from the pages of Scrip-
ture, had their own way of telling the story, which is
as follows
Before earth and sea and heaven were created, all
things wore one aspect, to which we give the name of
—
Chaos a confused and shapeless mass, nothing but
dead weight, in which, however, slumbered the seeds of
things. Earth, sea, and air were all mixed up together;
so the earth was not solid, the sea was not fluid, and
the air was not transparent. God and Nature at last
interposed, and put an end to this discord, separating
earth from sea, and heaven from both. The fiery part,
being the lightest, sprang up, and formed the skies the
;
air was next in weight and place. The earth, being

heavier, sank below and the water took the lowest place,
;
and buoyed up the earth.

—
Here some god it is not known which gave his—
good offices in arranging and disposing the earth. He
appointed rivers and bays their places, raised mountains,
scooped out valleys, distributed woods, fountains, fertile
fields, and stony plains. The air being cleared, the stars
began to appear, fishes took possession of the sea, birds
of the air, and four-footed beasts of the land.
But a nobler animal was wanted, and Man was made.
It is not known whether the creator made him of divine
materials, or whether in the earth, so lately separated
from heaven, there lurked still some heavenly seeds.
Prometheus took some of this earth, and kneading
it up with water, made man in the image of the gods.
He gave him an upright stature, so that while all other

animals turn their faces downward, and look to the
earth, he raises his to heaven, and gazes on the stars.
PROMETHEUS AND PANDORA 13
Prometheus was one of the Titans, a gigantic race,

who inhabited the earth before the creation of man.
To him and his brother Epimetheus was committed
the office of making man, and providing him and all
other animals with the faculties necessary for their
preservation. Epimetheus undertook to do this, and
Prometheus was to overlook his work, when it was
done. Epimetheus accordingly proceeded to bestow
upon the different animals the various gifts of courage,
strength, swiftness, sagacity; wings to one, claws to an-
other, a shelly covering to a third, etc. But when man
came to be provided for, who was to be superior to
all other animals, Epimetheus had been so prodigal of
his resources that he had nothing left to bestow upon
him. In his perplexity he resorted to his brother
Prometheus, who, with the aid of Minerva, went up
to heaven, and lighted his torch at the chariot of the
sun, and brought down fire to man. With this gift
man was more than a match for all other animals. It
enabled him to make weapons wherewith to subdue
them; tools with which to cultivate the earth; to warm
his dwelling, so as to be comparatively independent of
climate; and finally to introduce the arts and to coin
money, the means of trade and commerce.
Woman was not yet made. The story (absurd
enough!) is that Jupiter made her, and sent her to
Prometheus and his brother, to punish them for their
presumption in stealing fire from heaven; and man,
for accepting the gift. The first woman was named
Pandora. She was made in heaven, every god con-
tributing something to perfect her. Venus gave her
beauty, Mercury persuasion, Apollo music, etc. Thus
equipped, she was conveyed to earth, and presented to
Epimetheus, who gladly accepted her, though cautioned
by his brother to beware of Jupiter and his gifts.
Epimetheus had in his house a jar, in which were kept
certain noxious articles, for which, in fitting man for
his new abode, he had had no occasion. Pandora was
seized with an eager curiosity to know what this jar
contained; and one day she slipped off the cover and
looked in. Forthwith there escaped a multitude of
—
plagues for hapless man, such as gout, rheumatism,
and colic for his body, and envy, spite, and revenge for
his mind, — and scattered themselves far and wide.
Pandora hastened to replace the lid but, alas the whole
! !
contents of the jar had escaped, one thing only ex-

cepted, which lay at the bottom, and that was hope.
So we see at this day, whatever evils are abroad, hope
never entirely leaves us; and while we have that, no
amount of other ills can make us completely wretched.
Another story is that Pandora was sent in good faith,
by Jupiter, to bless man; that she was furnished with
a box, containing her marriage presents, into which
every god had put some blessing. She opened the box
incautiously, and the blessings all escaped, hope only ex-
cepted. This story seems more probable than the for-
mer; for how could hope, so precious a jewel as it is,
have been kept in a jar full of all manner of evils, as
in the former statement ?
The world being thus furnished with inhabitants, the
first age was an age of innocence and happiness, called
the Golden Age. Truth and right prevailed, though not
enforced by law, nor was there any magistrate to
threaten or punish. The forest had not yet been robbed
of its trees to furnish timbers for vessels, nor had men
built fortifications round their towns. There were no
such things as swords, spears, or helmets. The earth
brought forth all things necessary for man, without his
labor in ploughing or sowing. Perpetual spring reigned,
flowers sprang up without seed, the rivers flowed with
milk and wine, and yellow honey distilled from the oaks.
Then succeeded the Silver Age, inferior to the golden,
but better than that of brass. Jupiter shortened the
spring, and divided the year into seasons. Then, first,
men had to endure the extremes of heat and cold, and
houses became necessary. Caves were the first dwell-
ings, and leafy coverts of the woods, and huts woven
of twigs. Crops would no longer grow without plant-
ing. The farmer was obliged to sow the seed and the
ox to draw the plough.
toiling
Next came the Brazen Age, more savage of temper,
and readier to the strife of arms, yet not altogether
;
wicked. The hardest and worst was the Iron Age.

Crime burst in like a flood; modesty, truth, and honor
fled. In their places came fraud and cunning, violence,
and the wicked love of gain. Then seamen spread sails
to the wind, and the trees were torn from the moun-
tains to serve for keels to ships, and vex the face of
ocean. The earth, which till now had been cultivated
in common, began to be divided off into possessions.
Men were not satisfied with what the surface produced,
but must dig into its bowels, and draw forth from
thence the ores of metals. Mischievous iron, and more
mischievous gold, were produced. War sprang up,
using both as weapons; the guest was not safe in his
friend's house; and sons-in-law and fathers-in-law,
brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, could not trust
one another. Sons wished their fathers dead, that they
might come to the inheritance; family love lay pros-
trate. The earth was wet with slaughter, and the gods
abandoned it, one by one, till Astrasa 1 alone was left,
and finally she also took her departure.
Jupiter, seeing this state of things, burned with anger.
He summoned the gods to council. They obeyed the
call, and took the road to the palace of heaven. The
road, which any one may see in a clear night, stretches
across the face of the sky, and is called the Milky Way.
Along the road stand the palaces of the illustrious gods
the common people of the skies live apart, on either
side. Jupiter addressed the assembly. He set forth
the frightful condition of things on the earth, and closed
by announcing his intention to destroy the whole of its
inhabitants, and provide a new race, unlike the first,
1 The goddess of innocence and purity. After leaving earth, she was
placed among the stars, where she became the constellation Virgo the
Virgin. Themis (Justice) was the mother of Astraea. She is represented
—
as holding aloft a pair of scales, in which she weighs the claims of oppos-
ing parties.
It was a favorite idea of the old poets that these goddesses would
one day return, and bring back the Golden Age. Even in a Christi&c
hymn, the "Messiah" of Pope, this idea occurs:
"All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail,
Returning Justice lift aloft her scale,
Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend,
And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend."
See, also, Milton's "Hymn on the Nativity," stanzas xiv. and xv.
who would be more worthy of life, and much better
worshippers of the gods. So saying he took a thunder-
bolt, and was about to launch it at the world, and
destroy it by burning; but recollecting the danger that
such a conflagration might set heaven itself on fire, he
changed his plan, and resolved to drown it. The north
wind, which scatters the clouds, was chained up; the
south was sent out, and soon covered all the face of •
heaven with a cloak of pitchy darkness. The clouds,

driven together, resound with a crash; torrents of rain
fall; the crops are laid low; the year's labor of the
husbandman perishes in an hour. Jupiter, not satisfied
with his own waters, calls on his brother Neptune to
aid him with his. He lets loose the rivers, and pours
them over the land. At the same time, he heaves the
land with an earthquake, and brings in the reflux of
the ocean over the shores. Flocks, herds, men, and
houses are swept away, and temples, with their sacred
enclosures, profaned. If any edifice remained stand-
ing, it was overwhelmed, and its turrets lay hid beneath
the waves. Now all was sea, sea without shore. Here
and there an individual remained on a projecting hill-
top, and a few, in boats, pulled the oar where they had
lately driven the plough. The fishes swim among the
tree-tops ; the anchor is let down into a garden. Where
the graceful lambs played but now, unwieldy sea calves
gambol. The wolf swims among the sheep, the yellow
lions and tigers struggle in the water. The strength
of the wild boar serves him not, nor his swiftness the
stag. The birds fall with weary wing into the water,)
having found no land for a resting-place. Those living
beings whom the water spared fell a prey to hunger.
Parnassus alone, of all the mountains, overtopped
the waves; and there Deucalion, and his wife Pyrrha,
—
of the race of Prometheus, found refuge he a just
man, and she a faithful worshipper of the gods. Jupi-
ter, when he saw non# left alive but this pair, and re-
membered their harmless lives and pious demeanor,
ordered the north winds to drive away the clouds, and
disclose the skies to earth, and earth to the skies.
Neptune also directed Triton to blow on his shell, and
sound a retreat to the waters. The waters obeyed, and

the sea returned to its shores, and the rivers to their
channels. Then Deucalion thus addressed Pyrrha "O :
wife, only surviving woman, joined to me first by the

ties of kindred and marriage, and now by a common
danger, would that we possessed the power of our an-
cestor Prometheus, and could renew the race as he at
first made it! But as we cannot, let us seek yonder
temple, and inquire of the gods what remains for us to
do." They entered the temple, deformed as it was with
slime, and approached the altar, where no fire burned.
There they fell prostrate on the earth, and prayed
the goddess to inform them how they might retrieve
their miserable affairs. The oracle answered, "Depart
from the temple with head veiled and garments un-
bound, and cast behind you the bones of your mother."
They heard the words with astonishment. Pyrrha first
broke silence: "We cannot obey; we dare not profane
the remains of our parents." They sought the thick-
est shades of the wood, and revolved the oracle in
their minds. At length Deucalion spoke: "Either my
sagacity deceives me, or the command is one we may
obey without impiety. The earth is the great parent
of all; the stones are her bones; these we may cast
behind us; and I think this is what the oracle means.
At do no harm to try." They veiled their
least, it will
faces, unbound their garments, and picked up stones,
and cast them behind them. The stones (wonderful
to relate) began to grow soft, and assume shape. By
degrees, they put on a rude resemblance to the human
form, like a block half-finished in the hands of the
sculptor. The moisture and slime that were about them
became flesh; the stony part became bones; the veins
remained veins, retaining their name, only changing
their use. Those thrown by the hand of the man be-
came men, and those by the woman became women.
It was a hard race, and well adapted to labor, as we find
ourselves to be at this day, giving plain indications of
our origin.
The comparison of Eve to Pandora is too obvious to

have escaped Milton, who introduces it in Book IV. of

"Paradise Lost":
"More lovely than Pandora, whom the gods

Endowed with all their gifts; and O, too like
In sad event, when to the unwiser son
Of Japhet brought by Hermes, she insnared
Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged
On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire."
Prometheus and Epimetheus were sons of Iapetus,

which Milton changes to Japhet.
Prometheus has been a favorite subject with the poets.
He is represented as the friend of mankind, who inter-
posed in their behalf when Jove was incensed against
them, and who taught them civilization and the arts.
But as, in so doing, he transgressed the will of Jupiter,
he drew down on himself the anger of the ruler of
gods and men. Jupiter had him chained to a rock on
Mount Caucasus, where a vulture preyed on his liver,
which was renewed as fast as devoured. This state
of torment might have been brought to an end at any
time by Prometheus, if he had been willing to submit
to his oppressor; for he possessed a secret which in-
volved the stability of Jove's throne, and if he would
have revealed it, he might have been at once taken into
favor. But that he disdained to do. He has there-
fore become the symbol of magnanimous endurance of
unmerited suffering, and strength of will resisting op-
pression.
Byron and Shelley have both treated this theme. The
following are Byron's lines :
"Titan! to whose immortal eyes

The sufferings of mortality,
Seen in their sad reality,
Were not as things that gods despise;
What was thy pity's recompense?
A and intense;
silent suffering,
The rock, the vulture, and the chain;
All that the proud can feel of pain;
The agony they do not show;
The suffocating sense of woe.
—
APOLLO AND DAPHNE 19
"Thy godlike crime was to be kind;

To render with thy precepts less
The sum of human wretchedness,
And strengthen man with his own mind.
And, baffled as thou wert from high,
Still, in thy patient energy
In the endurance and repulse
Of thine impenetrable spirit,
Which earth and heaven could not convulse,
A mighty lesson we inherit."
Byron also employs the same allusion, in his "Ode

to Napoleon Bonaparte":
"Or, like the thief of fire from heaven,

Wilt thou withstand the shock?
—
And share with him the unforgiven
His vulture and his rock?"
CHAPTER III
APOLLO AND DAPHNE —

PYRAMUS AND THISBE
CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS
The slime with which the earth was covered by the

waters of the flood produced an excessive fertility,
which called forth every variety of production, both bad
and good. Among the rest, Python, an enormous ser-
pent, crept forth, the terror of the people, and lurked
in the caves of Mount Parnassus. Apollo slew him
—
with his arrows weapons which he had not before
used against any but feeble animals, hares, wild goats,
and such game. In commemoration of this illustrious
conquest he instituted the Pythian games, in which the
victor in feats of strength, swiftness of foot, or in the
chariot race was crowned with a wreath of beech
leaves; for the laurel was not yet adopted by Apollo
as his own tree.
The famous statue of Apollo called the Belvedere
represents the god after this victory over the serpent
Python. To this Byron alludes in his "Childe Harold/'
iv., 16i:
"... The lord of the unerring bow,
The god of life, and poetry, and light,
The Sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow
All radiant from his triumph in the fight.
The shaft has just been shot; the arrow bright
With an immortal's vengeance; in his eye
And nostril, beautiful disdain, and might
And majesty flash their full lightnings by,
Developing in that one glance the Deity."
APOLLO AND DAPHNE

Daphne was Apollo's first love. It was not brought
about by accident, but by the malice of Cupid. Apollo
saw the boy playing with his bow and arrows; and
being himself elated with his recent victory over Python,
he said to him, "What have you to do with warlike
weapons, saucy boy? Leave them for hands worthy
of them. Behold the conquest I have won by means
of them over the vast serpent who stretched his
poisonous body over acres of the plain! Be content
with your torch, child, and kindle up your flames, as
you call them, where you will, but presume not to
meddle with my weapons." Venus's boy heard these
words, and rejoined, "Your arrows may strike all things
else, Apollo, but mine shall strike you." So saying,
he took his stand on a rock of Parnassus, and drew
from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship,
one to excite love, the other to repel it. The former
was of gold and sharp pointed, the latter blunt and
tipped with lead. With the leaden shaft he struck the
nymph Daphne, the daughter of the river god Peneus,
and with the golden one Apollo, through the heart.
Forthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden,
and she abhorred the thought of loving. Her delight
was in woodland sports and in the spoils of the chase.
Many lovers sought her, but she spurned them all,
ranging the woods, and taking no thought of Cupid nor
of Hymen. Her father often said to her, "Daughter,
you owe me a son-in-law; you owe me grandchildren."
She, hating the thought of marriage as a crime, with
her beautiful face tinged all over with blushes, threw
h>er arms around her father's n^Qkj and said, "Dearest
!
APOLLO AND DAPHNE 21
father, grant me this favor, that I may always remain

unmarried, like Diana." He consented, but at the same
time said, "Your own face will forbid it."
Apollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he
who gives oracles to all the world was not wise enough
to look into his own fortunes. He saw her hair
flung loose over her shoulders, and said, "If so charm-
ing in disorder, what would it be if arranged?" He
saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and
was not satisfied with only seeing them. He admired
her hands and arms, naked to the shoulder, and what-
ever was hidden from view he imagined more beau-
tiful still. He followed her; she fled, swifter than
the wind, and delayed not a moment at his entreaties.
"Stay," said he, "daughter of Peneus; I am not a foe.
Do not fly me as a lamb flies the wolf, or a dove
the hawk. It is for love I pursue you. You make
me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurt your-
self on these stones, and I should be the cause. Pray
run slower, and I will follow slower. I am no clown,
no rude peasant. Jupiter is my father, and I am lord
of Delphos and Tenedos, and know all things, present
and future. I am the god of song and the lyre. My
arrows fly true to the mark but, alas an arrow more
;
!
fatal than mine has pierced my heart ! I am the god

of medicine, and know the virtues of all healing plants.
Alas I suffer a malady that no balm can cure
!
The nymph continued her flight, and left his plea

half uttered. And even as she fled she charmed him.
The wind blew her garments, and her unbound hair
streamed loose behind her. The god grew impatient
to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by Cupid,
gained upon her in the race. It was like a hound
pursuing a hare, with open jaws ready to seize, while
the feebler animal darts forward, slipping from the very
—
grasp. So flew the god and the virgin he on the wings
of love, and she on those of fear. The pursuer is the
more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and his pant-
ing breath blows upon her hair. Her strength begins
to fail, and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father,
the river god "Help me, Peneus open the earth to en-
: !
:
close me, or change my

form, which has brought me
into this danger!" Scarcely had she spoken, when a
stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to be
enclosed in a tender bark; her hair became leaves; her
arms became branches; her foot stuck fast in the
ground, as a root; her face became a tree-top, retain-
ing nothing of its former self but its beauty. Apollo
stood amazed. He touched the stem, and felt the flesh
tremble under the new bark. He embraced the branches,
and lavished kisses on the wood. The branches shrank
from his lips. "Since you cannot be my wife," said
he, "you shall assuredly be my tree. I will wear you
for my crown; I will decorate with you my harp and
my quiver; and when the great Roman conquerors
lead up the triumphal pomp to the Capitol, you shall
be woven into wreaths for their brows. And, as eternal
youth is mine, you also shall be always green, and your
leaf know no decay." The nymph, now changed into a
Laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledg-
ment.
That Apollo should be the god both of music and

poetry will not appear strange, but that medicine should
also be assigned to his province, may. The poet Arm-
strong, himself a physician, thus accounts for it:
"Music exalts each joy, allays each grief,

Expels diseases, softens every pain;
And hence the wise of ancient days adored
One power of physic, melody, and song."
The story of Apollo and Daphne is often alluded to

by the poets. Waller applies it to the case of one
whose amatory verses, though they did not soften the
heart of his mistress, yet won for the poet wide-spread
fame
"Yet what he sung in his immortal strain,
Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain.
All but the nymph that should redress his wrong,
Attend his passion and approve his song.
Like Phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise,
He caught at love and filled his arms with bays."
;
PYRAMUS AND THISBE 23
The following stanza from Shelley's "Adonais" al-
ludes to Byron's early quarrel with the reviewers:
"The herded wolves, bold only to pursue;

The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead;
The vultures, to the conqueror's banner true,
Who feed where Desolation first has fed,
And whose wings rain contagion how they fled,
:
When like Apollo, from his golden bow,

The Pythian of the age one arrow sped
And smiled The spoilers tempt no second blow
!
They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go."
PYRAMUS AND THISBE

Pyramus was the handsomest youth, and Thisbe the
fairest maiden, in all Babylonia, where Semiramis
reigned. Their parents occupied adjoining houses; and
neighborhood brought the young people together, and
acquaintance ripened into love. They would gladly
have married, but their parents forbade. One thing,
—
however, they could not forbid that love should glow
with equal ardor in the bosoms of both. They con-
versed by signs and glances, and the fire burned more
intensely for being covered up. In the wall that parted
the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault
in the structure. No one had remarked it before, but
the lovers discovered it. What will not love discover!
It afforded a passage to the voice; and tender mes-
sages used to pass backward and forward through the
gap. As they stood, Pyramus on this side, Thisbe on
that, their breaths would mingle. "Cruel wall," they
said, "why do you keep two lovers apart? But we
will not be ungrateful. We owe you, we confess, the
privilege of transmitting loving words to willing ears."
Such words they uttered on different sides of the wall;
and when night came and they must say farewell, they
pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side, he
on his, as they could come no nearer.
Next morning, when Aurora had put out the stars,
and the sun had melted the frost from the grass, they
met at the accustomed spot. Then, after lamenting
their hard fate, they agreed that next night, when all
was still, they would slip away from watchful eyes,

leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and
to insure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice
standing without the city's bounds, called the Tomb of
Ninus, and that the one who came first should await
the other at the foot of a certain tree. It was a white
mulberry tree, and stood near a cool spring. All was
agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to
go down beneath the waters and night to rise up from
them. Then cautiously Thisbe stole forth, unobserved
by the family, her head covered with a veil, made her
way to the monument and sat down under the tree.
As she sat alone in the dim light of the evening she
descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaugh-
ter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. Thisbe
fled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of
a rock. As she fled she dropped her veil. The lioness
after drinking at the spring turned to retreat to the
woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and
rent it with her bloody mouth.
Pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the
place of meeting. He saw in the sand the footsteps
of the lion, and the color fled from his cheeks at the
sight. Presently he found the veil all rent and bloody.
"O hapless girl," said he, "I have been the cause of
thy death Thou, more worthy of life than I, hast
!
fallen the first victim. I will follow. I am the guilty

cause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril,
and not being myself on the spot to guard thee. Come
forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear this guilty body
with your teeth/' He took up the veil, carried it with
him to the appointed tree, and covered it with kisses
and with tears. "My blood also shall stain your tex-
ture," said he, and drawing his sword plunged it into
his heart. The blood spurted from the wound, and
tinged the white mulberries of the tree all red; and
sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the
red color mounted through the trunk to the fruit.
By this time Thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet
wishing not to disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously
forth, looking anxiously for the youth, eager to tell him
PYRAMUS AND THISBE 25
the danger she had escaped. When she came to the

spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries she
doubted whether it was the same place. While she
hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in the
agonies of death. She started back, a shudder ran
through her frame as a ripple on the face of the still
water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. But as
soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and
beat her breast, embracing the lifeless body, pouring
tears into its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold
lips. "O Pyramus," she cried, "what has done this?
Answer me, Pyramus it is your own Thisbe that speaks.
;
Hear me, dearest, and lift that drooping head!" At

the name of Thisbe Pyramus opened his eyes, then
closed them again. She saw her veil stained with blood
and the scabbard empty of its sword. "Thy own hand
has slain thee, and for my sake," she said. "I too can
be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine.
I will follow thee in death, for I have been the cause;
and death which alone could part us shall not prevent
my joining thee. And ye, unhappy parents of us both,
deny us not our united request. As love and death have
joined us, let one tomb contain us. And thou, tree,
retain the marks of slaughter. Let thy berries still serve
for memorials of our blood." So saying she plunged
the sword into her breast. Her parents ratified her
wish, the gods also ratified it. The two bodies were
buried in one sepulchre, and the tree ever after brought
forth purple berries, as it does to this day.
Moore, in the "Sylph's Ball," speaking of Davy's

Safety Lamp, is reminded of the wall that separated
Thisbe and her lover:
"O for that Lamp's metallic gauze,

That curtain of protecting wire,
Which Davy delicately draws
Around illicit, dangerous fire!
The wall he sets 'twixt Flame and Air,

(Like that which barred young Thisbe' s bliss,)
Through whose small holes this dangerous pair
May see each other, but not kiss."
In Mickle's translation of the "Lusiad" occurs the

following allusion to the story of Pyramus and Thisbe,
and the metamorphosis of the mulberries. The poet is
describing the Island of Love:
". here each gift Pomona's hand bestows

. .
In cultured garden, free uncultured flows,

The flavor sweeter and the hue more fair
Than e'er was fostered by the hand of care.
The cherry here in shining crimson glows,
And stained with lovers' blood, in pendent rows,
The mulberries o'erload the bending boughs."
If any of our young readers can be so hard-hearted

as to enjoy a laugh at the expense of poor Pyramus
and Thisbe, they may find an opportunity by turning
to Shakspeare's play of the "Midsummer Night's
Dream," where it is most amusingly burlesqued.
CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS

Cephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly
sports. He would rise before the dawn to pursue the
chase. Aurora saw him when she first looked forth,
fell in love with him, and stole him away. But Cephalus
was just married to a charming wife whom he devotedly
loved. Her name was Procris. She was a favorite
of Diana, the goddess of hunting, who had given her
a dog which could outrun every rival, and a javelin
which would never fail of its mark; and Procris gave
these presents to her husband. Cephalus was so happy
in his wife that he resisted all the entreaties of Aurora,
and she finally dismissed him in displeasure, saying,
"Go, ungrateful mortal, keep your wife, whom, if I am
not much mistaken, you will one day be very sorry you
ever saw again."
Cephalus returned, and was as happy as ever in his
wife and his woodland sports. Now it happened some
angry deity had sent a ravenous fox to annoy the coun-
try; and the hunters turned out in great strength to
capture it. Their efforts were all in vain no dog could
;
run it down and at last they came to Cephalus to bor-

;
row his famous dog, whose name was Lelaps. No

CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS 27
sooner was the dog let loose than he darted off, quicker
than their eye could follow him. If they had not seen
his footprints in the sand they would have thought he
flew. Cephalus and others stood on a hill and saw the
race. The iox tried every art; he ran in a circle and
turned on his track, the dog close upon him, with open
jaws, snapping at his heels, but biting only the air.
Cephalus was about to use his javelin, when suddenly he
saw both dog and game stop instantly. The heavenly
powers who had given both were not willing that either
should conquer. In the very attitude of life and action
they were turned into stone. So lifelike and natural did
they look, you would have thought, as you looked at
them, that one was going to bark, the other to leap for-
ward.
Cephalus, though he had lost his dog, still contin-
ued to take delight in the chase. He would go out at
early morning, ranging the woods and hills unaccom-
panied by any one, needing no help, for his javelin was a
sure weapon in all cases. Fatigued with hunting, when
the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a
cool stream flowed, and, stretched on the grass, with his
garments thrown aside, would enjoy the breeze. Some-
times he would say aloud, "Come, sweet breeze, come
and fan my breast, come and allay the heat that burns
me." Some one passing by one day heard him talking in
this way to the air, and, foolishly believing that he was
talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to
Procris, Cephalus's wife. Love is credulous. Procris,
at the sudden shock, fainted away. Presently re-
covering, she said, "It cannot be true; I will not be-
lieve it unless I myself am a witness to it." So she
waited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when
Cephalus went to hunt as usual. Then she stole out
after him, and concealed herself in the place where the
informer directed her. Cephalus came as he was wont
when tired with sport, and stretched himself on the
green bank, saying, "Come, sweet breeze, come and
fan me you know how I love you you make the groves
;
!
and my solitary rambles delightful." He was running

on in this way when he heard, or thought he heard, a
sound as of a sob in the bushes. Supposing it some

wild animal, he threw his javelin at the spot. cry A
from his beloved Procris told him that the weapon had
too surely met its mark. He rushed to the place, and
found her bleeding, and with sinking strength endeav-
oring to draw forth from the wound the javelin, her
own gift. Cephalus raised her from the earth, strove
to stanch the blood, and called her to revive and not to
leave him miserable, to reproach himself with her death.
She opened her feeble eyes, and forced herself to utter
these few words "I implore you, if you have ever loved
:
me, if I have ever deserved kindness at your hands, my

husband, grant me this last request; do not marry that
odious Breeze!" This disclosed the whole mystery: but
alas what advantage to disclose it now
! She died but
! ;
her face wore a calm expression, and she looked pity-

ingly and forgivingly on her husband when he made her
understand the truth.
Moore, in his "Legendary Ballads," has one pa

Cephalus and Procris, beginning thus:
"A hunter once in a grove reclined,
To shun the noon's bright eye,
And oft he wooed the wandering wind
To cool his brow with its sigh.
While mute lay even the wild bee's hum,
Nor breath could stir the aspen's hair,
His song was still, 'Sweet Air, O come!'
While Echo answered, 'Come, sweet Air!'"
CHAPTER IV
JUNO AND HER RIVALS, 10 AND CALLIST0 DIANA AND —

—
ACTION LAT0NA AND THE RUSTICS
Juno one day perceived it suddenly grow dark, and

immediately suspected that her husband had raised a
cloud to hide some of his doings that would not bear
the light. She brushed away the cloud, and saw her
husband on the banks of a glassy river, with a beautiful
JUNO AND HER RIVALS 29
heifer standing near him. Juno suspected the heifers

form concealed some fair nymph —
of mortal mould as
was, indeed the case; for it was Io, the daughter of
the river god Inachus, whom Jupiter had been flirting
with, and, when he became aware of the approach of his
wife, had changed into that form.
Juno joined her husband, and noticing the heifer
praised its beauty, and asked whose it was, and of what
herd. Jupiter, to stop questions, replied that it was a
fresh creation from the earth. Juno asked to have it as
a gift. What could Jupiter do? He was loath to give
his mistress to his wife; yet how refuse so trifling
a present as a simple heifer? He could not, without
exciting suspicion; so he consented. The goddess was
not yet relieved of her suspicions; so she delivered the
heifer to Argus, to be strictly watched.
Now Argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never
went to sleep with more than two at a time, so that he
kept watch of Io constantly. He suffered her to feed
through the day, and at night tied her up with a vile
rope round her neck. She would have stretched out her
arms to implore freedom of Argus, but she had no arms
to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that fright-
ened even herself. She saw her father and her sisters,
went near them, and suffered them to pat her back, and
heard them admire her beauty. Her father reached her
a tuft of grass, and she licked the outstretched hand.
She longed to make herself known to him, and would
have uttered her wish but, alas words were wanting.
;
!
At length she bethought herself of writing, and inscribed

— —
her name it was a short one with her hoof on the
sand. Inachus recognized it, and discovering that his
daughter, whom he had long sought in vain, was hidden
under this disguise, mourned over her, and, embracing
her white neck, exclaimed, "Alas my daughter, it would
!
have been a less grief to have lost you altogether!"

While he thus lamented, Argus, observing, came and
drove her away, and took his seat on a high bank, from
whence he could see all around in every direction.
Jupiter was troubled at beholding the sufferings of his
mistress, and calling Mercury told him to go and despatch
Argus. Mercury made haste, put his winged slippers on
his feet, and cap on his head, took his sleep-producing
wand, and leaped down from the heavenly towers to the
earth. There he laid aside his wings, and kept only his
wand, with which he presented himself as a shepherd
driving his flock. As he strolled on he blew upon his
pipes. These were what are called the Syrinx or Pandean
pipes. Argus listened with delight, for he had never seen
the instrument before. "Young man," said he, "come
and take a seat by me on this stone. There is no better
place for your flocks to graze in than hereabouts, and
here is a pleasant shade such as shepherds love." Mercury
sat down, talked, and told stories till it grew late, and
played upon his pipes his most soothing strains, hoping
to lull the watchful eyes to sleep, but all in vain; for
Argus still contrived to keep some of his eyes open
though he shut the rest.
Among other stories, Mercury told him how the instru-
ment on which he played was invented. "There was a
certain nymph, whose name was Syrinx, who was much
beloved by the satyrs and spirits of the wood; but she
would have none of them, but was a faithful worshipper
of Diana, and followed the chase. You would have
thought it was Diana herself, had you seen her in her
hunting dress, only that her bow was of horn and Diana's
of silver. One day, as she was returning from the chase,
Pan met her, told her just this, and added more of the
same sort. She ran away, without stopping to hear his
compliments, and he pursued till she came to the bank of
the river, where he overtook her, and she had only time to
call for help on her friends the water nymphs. They
heard and consented. Pan threw his arms around what
he supposed to be the form of the nymph, and found he
embraced only a tuft of reeds ! As he breathed a sigh,
the air sounded through the reeds, and produced a plain-
tive melody. The god, charmed with the novelty and with
the sweetness of the music, said, 'Thus, then, at least,
you shall be mine/ And he took some of the reeds, and
placing them together, of unequal lengths, side by side,
made an instrument which he called Syrinx, in honor of
the nymph." Before Mercury had finished his story he
:
CALLISTO 31
saw Argus's eyes all asleep. As his head nodded forward

on his breast, Mercury with one stroke cut his neck
through, and tumbled his head down the rocks. O hap-
less Argus the light of your hundred eyes is quenched
!
at once ! Juno took them and put them as ornaments

on the tail of her peacock, where they remain to this day.
But the vengeance of Juno was not yet satiated. She
sent a gadfly to torment Io, who fled over the whole
world from its pursuit. She swam through the Ionian
sea, which derived its name from her, then roamed over
the plains of Illyria, ascended Mount Hsemus, and crossed
the Thracian strait, thence named the Bosphorus (cow-
ford), rambled on through Scythia, and the country of
the Cimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of the
Nile. At length Jupiter interceded for her, and upon
his promising not to pay her any more attentions Juno
consented to restore her to her form. It was curious to
see her gradually recover her former self. The coarse
hairs fell from her body, her horns shrank up, her eyes
grew narrower, her mouth shorter; hands and fingers
came instead of hoofs to her forefeet in fine there was
;
nothing of the heifer, except her beauty. At first she

left
was afraid to speak, for fear she should low, but grad-
ually she recovered her confidence and was restored to
her father and sisters.
In a poem dedicated to Leigh Hunt, by Keats, the fol-

lowing allusion to the story of Pan and Syrinx occurs
"So did he feel who pulled the bough aside,

That we might look into a forest wide,
Telling us how fair trembling Syrinx fled

Arcadian Pan, with such a fearful dread.
— —
Poor nymph poor Pan how he did weep to find
Nought but a lovely sighing of the wind
Along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain,
Full of sweet desolation, balmy pain."
CALLISTO
Callisto was another maiden who excited the jealousy

of Juno, and the goddess changed her into a bear. "I
;

will take away," said she, "that beauty with which you
have captivated my husband." Down fell Callisto on her
hands and knees; she tried to stretch out her arms in
—
supplication they were already beginning to be covered
with black hair. Her hands grew rounded, became armed
with crooked claws, and served for feet; her mouth,
which Jove used to praise for its beauty, became a horrid
pair of jaws her voice, which if unchanged would have
;
moved the heart to pity, became a growl, more fit to

inspire terror. Yet her former disposition remained,
and with continual groaning, she bemoaned her fate, and
stood upright as well as she could, lifting up her paws
to beg for mercy, and felt that Jove was unkind, though
she could not tell him so. Ah, how often, afraid to stay
in the woods all night alone, she wandered about the
neighborhood of her former haunts; how often, fright-
ened by the dogs, did she, so lately a huntress, fly in
terror from the hunters! Often she fled from the wild
beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild beast herself
and, bear as she was, was afraid of the bears.
One day a youth espied her as he was hunting. She
saw him and recognized him as her own son, now grown
a young man. She stopped and felt inclined to embrace
him. As she was about to approach, he, alarmed, raised
his hunting spear, and was on the point of transfixing
her, when Jupiter, beholding, arrested the crime, and
snatching away both of them, placed them in the heavens
as the Great and Little Bear.
Juno was in a rage to see her rival so set in honor, and
hastened to ancient Tethys and Oceanus, the powers of
ocean, and in answer to their inquiries thus told the cause
of her coming: "Do you ask why I, the queen of the
gods, have left the heavenly plains and sought your
depths? Learn that I am supplanted in heaven my —
place is given to another. You will hardly believe me;
but look when night darkens the world, and you shall see
the two of whom I have so much reason to complain
exalted to the heavens, in that part where the circle is the
smallest, in the neighborhood of the pole. Why should
any one hereafter tremble at the thought of offending
Juno., when such rewards are the consequence of my dis-
: : :
CALLISTO 33
pleasure ? See what I have been able to effect I forbade !
—
her to wear the human form she is placed among the
stars! —
So do my punishments result such is the extent
of my power Better that she should have resumed her
!
former shape, as I permitted Io to do. Perhaps he means

to marry her, and put me away! But you, my foster-
parents, if you feel for me, and see with displeasure this
unworthy treatment of me, show it, I beseech you, by
forbidding this guilty couple from coming into your
waters." The powers of the ocean assented, and conse-
quently the two constellations of the Great and Little
Bear move round and round in heaven, but never sink,
as the other stars do, beneath the ocean.
Milton alludes to the fact that the constellation of the

Bear never sets, when he says
"Let my lamp at midnight hour

Be seen in some high lonely tower,
Where I may oft outwatch the Bear," etc.
And Prometheus, in J. R. Lowell's poem, says
"One after one the stars have risen and set,

Sparkling upon the hoar frost of my chain;
The Bear that prowled all night about the fold
Of the North-star, hath shrunk into his den,
Scared by the blithesome footsteps of the Dawn."
The last star in the tail of the Little Bear is the Pole-
star, called also the Cynosure. Milton says
"Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures

While the landscape round it measures.
Towers and battlements it sees

Bosomed high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some beauty lies
The Cynosure of neighboring eyes."
The reference here is both to the Pole-star as the guide

of mariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the North.
He calls it also the "Star of Arcady," because Callisto's
: :
boy was named Areas, and they lived in Arcadia. In

"Comus," the brother, benighted in the woods, says
". Some gentle taper!

. .
Though a rush candle, from the wicker hole

Of some clay habitation, visit us
With thy long levelled rule of streaming light,
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,
Or Tyrian Cynosure."
DIANA AND ACTION

Thus in two instances we have seen Juno's severity
to her rivals now let us learn
; how a virgin goddess pun-
ished an invader of her privacy.
It was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from
either goal, when young Actseon, son of King Cadmus,
thus addressed the youths who with him were hunting
the stag in the mountains
"Friends, our nets and our weapons are wet with the
blood of our victims we have had sport enough for one
;
day, and to-morrow we can renew our labors. Now,

while Phoebus parches the earth, let us put by our imple-
ments and indulge ourselves with rest."
There was a valley thick enclosed with cypresses and
pines, sacred to the huntress queen, Diana. In the ex-
tremity of the valley was a cave, not adorned with art,
but nature had counterfeited art in its construction, for
she had turned the arch of its roof with stones as deli-
cately fitted as if by the hand of man. A
fountain burst
out from one side, whose open basin was bounded by a
grassy rim. Here the goddess of the woods used to come
when weary with hunting and lave her virgin limbs in
the sparkling water.
One day, having repaired thither with her nymphs, she
handed her javelin, her quiver, and her bow to one, her
robe to another, while a third unbound the sandals from
her feet. Then Crocale, the most skilful of them, ar-
ranged her hair, and Nephele, Hyale, and the rest drew
water in capacious urns. While the goddess was thus
employed in the labors of the toilet, behold Actseon, hav-
ing quitted his companions, and rambling without any
DIANA AND ACTION 35
especial came to the place, led thither by his

object,
destiny. As hepresented himself at the entrance of the
cave, the nymphs, seeing a man, screamed and rushed
towards the goddess to hide her with their bodies. But
she was taller than the rest and overtopped them all by
a head. Such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset or
at dawn came over the countenance of Diana thus taken
by surprise. Surrounded as she was by her nymphs, she
yet turned half away, and sought with a sudden impulse
for her arrows. As they were not at hand, she dashed
the water into the face of the intruder, adding these
words : "Now go and tell, if you can, that you have
seen Diana unapparelled." Immediately a pair of branch-
ing stag's horns grew out of his head, his neck gained in
length, his ears grew sharp-pointed, his hands became
feet, his arms long legs, his body was covered with a
hairy spotted hide. Fear took the place of his former
boldness, and the hero fled. He could not but admire his
own speed but when he saw his horns in the water, "Ah,
;
wretched me !" he would have said, but no sound followed

the effort. He groaned, and tears flowed down the face
which had taken the place of his own. Yet his conscious-
—
ness remained. What shall he do ? go home to seek the
palace, or lie hid in the woods ? The latter he was afraid,
the former he was ashamed, to do. While he hesitated
the dogs saw him. First Melampus, a Spartan dog, gave
the signal with his bark, then Pamphagus, Dorceus, Le-
laps, Theron, Nape, Tigris, and all the rest, rushed after
him swifter than the wind. Over rocks and cliffs, through
mountain gorges that seemed impracticable, he fled and
they followed. Where he had often chased the stag and
cheered on his pack, his pack now chased him, cheered
on by his huntsmen. He longed to cry out, "I am Ac-
tion; recognize your master!" but the words came not
at his will.The air resounded with the bark of the dogs.
Presently one fastened on his back, another seized his
shoulder. While they held their master, the rest of the
pack came up and buried their teeth in his flesh. He
—
groaned, not in a human voice, yet certainly not in a
stag's,—and falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and
would have raised his arms in supplication, if he had had
them. His friends and fellow-huntsmen cheered on the
dogs, and looked everywhere for Actseon, calling on him
to join the sport. At the sound of his name he turned
his head, and heard them regret that he should be away.
He earnestly wished he was. He would have been well
pleased to see the exploits of his dogs, but to feel them
was too much. They were all around him, rending and
tearing and it was not till they had torn his life out that
;
the anger of Diana was satisfied.
In Shelley's poem "Adonais" is the following allusion

to the story of Actseon:
"'Midst others of less note came one frail form,

A phantom among men companionless
:
As the last cloud of an expiring storm,

Whose thunder is its knell he, as I guess,
;
Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness,

Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray
With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness;
And his own Thoughts, along that rugged way,
Pursued like raging hounds their father and their prey."
Stanza 31.
The allusion is probably to Shelley himsejf.
LATONA AND THE RUSTICS

Some thought the goddess in this instance more severe
than was while others praised her conduct as strictly
just,
consistent with her virgin dignity. As usual, the recent
event brought older ones to mind, and one of the by-
standers told this story: "Some countrymen of Lycia
once insulted the goddess Latona, but not with impunity.
When I was young, my father, who had grown too old
for active labors, sent me to Lycia to drive thence some
choice oxen, and there I saw the very pond and marsh
where the wonder happened. Near by stood an ancient
altar, black with the smoke of sacrifice and almost buried
among the reeds. I inquired whose altar it might be,
whether of Faunus or the Naiads, or some god of the
neighboring mountain, and one of the country people
replied, 'No mountain or river god possesses this altar,
LATONA AND THE RUSTICS 37
but she whom

royal Juno in her jealousy drove from land
to land, denying her any spot of earth whereon to rear
her twins. Bearing in her arms the infant deities, Latona
reached this land, weary with her burden and parched
with thirst. By chance she espied on the bottom of the
valley this pond of clear water, where the country people
were at work gathering willows and osiers. The goddess
approached, and kneeling on the bank would have slaked
her thirst in the cool stream, but the rustics forbade her.
'Why do you refuse me water?' said she; 'water is
free to all. Nature allows no one to claim as property
the sunshine, the air, or the water. I come to take my
share of the common blessing. Yet I ask it of you as a
favor. I have no intention of washing my limbs in it,
weary though they be, but only to quench my thirst. My
mouth is so dry that I can hardly speak. A draught of
water would be nectar to me; it would revive me, and I
would own myself indebted to you for life itself. Let
these infants move your pity, who stretch out their little
arms as if to plead for me;' and the children, as it
happened, were stretching out their arms.
"Who would not have been moved with these gentle
words of the goddess? But these clowns persisted in
their rudeness they even added jeers and threats of vio-
;
lence ifshe did not leave the place. Nor was this all.
They waded into the pond and stirred up the mud with
their feet, so as to make the water unfit to drink. Latona
was so angry that she ceased to mind her thirst. She
no longer supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to
heaven exclaimed, 'May they never quit that pool, but
pass their lives there !' And it came to pass accordingly.
They now live in the water, sometimes totally submerged,
then raising their heads above the surface or swimming
upon it. Sometimes they come out upon the bank, but
soon leap back again into the water. They still use their
base voices in railing, and though they have the water
all to themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst
of it. Their voices are harsh, their throats bloated, their
mouths have become stretched by constant railing, their
necks have shrunk up and disappeared, and their heads
are joined to their bodies. Their backs are green, their
:

disproportioned bellies white, and in short they are now
,,
frogs, and dwell in the slimy pool.
This story explains the allusion in one of Milton's

sonnets, "On the detraction which followed upon his
writing certain treatises."
"I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs

By the known laws
of ancient liberty,
When straight a barbarous noise environs me
Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.
As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs
Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny,
Which after held the sun and moon in fee."
The
persecution which Latona experienced from Juno
is alluded to in the story. The tradition was that the
future mother of Apollo and Diana, flying from the wrath
of Juno, besought all the islands of the iEgean to afford
her a place of rest, but all feared too much the potent
queen of heaven to assist her rival. Delos alone consent-
ed to become the birthplace of the future deities. Delos
was then a floating island but when Latona arrived there,
;
Jupiter fastened it with adamantine chains to the bottom

of the sea, that it might be a secure resting-place for his
beloved. Byron alludes to Delos in his "Don Juan"
"The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!

Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung!"
CHAPTER V
PHAETON
Phaeton was the son of Apollo and the nymph Cly-

mene. One day a schoolfellow laughed at the idea of
his being the son of the god, and Phaeton went in rage
and shame and reported it to his mother. "If," said he,
"I am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some
; —
PHAETON 39
proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor." Cly-

mene stretched forth her hands towards the skies, and
said, "I call to witness the Sun which looks down upon
us, that I have told you the truth. If I speak falsely,
let this be the last time I behold his light. But it needs
not much labor to go and inquire for yourself the land ;
whence the Sun rises lies next to ours. Go and demand

of him whether he will own you as a son." Phaeton
heard with delight. He travelled to India, which lies
directly in the regions of sunrise; and, full of hope and
pride, approached the goal whence his parent begins his
course.
The palace of the Sun stood reared aloft on columns,
glittering with gold and precious stones, while polished
ivory formed the ceilings, and silver the doors. The
workmanship surpassed the material 1 for upon the
walls Vulcan had represented earth, sea, and skies, with
their inhabitants. In the sea were the nymphs, some
sporting in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes,
while others sat upon the rocks and dried their sea-green
hair. Their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike,
but such as sisters' ought to be. 1 The earth had its towns
and forests and rivers and rustic divinities. Over all was
carved the likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the
silver doors the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each
side.
Clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and
entered the halls of his disputed father. He approached
the paternal presence, but stopped at a distance, for the
light was more than he could bear. Phcebus, arrayed
in a purple vesture, sat on a throne, which glittered as
with diamonds. On his right hand and his left stood the
Day, the Month, and the Year, and, at regular intervals,
the Hours. Spring stood with her head crowned with
flowers, and Summer, with garment cast aside, and a
garland formed of spears of ripened grain, and Autumn,
with his feet stained with grape- juice, and icy Winter,
with his hair stiffened with hoar frost. Surrounded by
these attendants, the Sun, with the eye that sees every-
thing, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and
1
See Proverbial Expressions.
;

splendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his
errand. The youth replied, "O light of the boundless
—
world, Phcebus, my father, if you permit me to use that
—
name, give me some proof, I beseech you, by which I
may be known as yours." He ceased; and his father,
laying aside the beams that shone all around his head,
bade him approach, and embracing him, said, "My son,
you deserve not to be disowned, and I confirm what your
mother has told you. To put an end to your doubts, ask
what you will, the gift shall be yours. I call to witness
that dreadful lake, which I never saw, but which we gods
swear by in our most solemn engagements." Phaeton
immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive
the chariot of the sun. The father repented of his
promise thrice and four times he shook his radiant head
;
in warning. "I have spoken rashly," said he "this only

;
request I would fain deny. I beg you to withdraw it.

It is not a safe boon, nor one, my Phaeton, suited to your
youth and strength. Your lot is mortal, and you ask what
is beyond a mortal's power. In your ignorance you aspire
to do that which not even the gods themselves may do.
None but myself may drive the flaming car of day. Not
even Jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunder-
bolts. The first part of the way is steep, and such as
the horses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb
the middle is high up in the heavens, whence I myself
can scarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the
earth and sea stretched beneath me. The last part of the
road descends rapidly, and requires most careful driving.
Tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for
me lest I should fall headlong. Add to all this, the heaven
is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with
it. I have to be perpetually on my guard lest that move-
ment, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry
me also away. Suppose I should lend you the chariot,
what would you do ? Could you keep your course while
the sphere was revolving under you ? Perhaps you think
that there are forests and cities, the abodes of gods, and
palaces and temples on the way. On the contrary, the
road is through the midst of frightful monsters. You
pass by the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer, and
PHAETON 41
near the Lion's jaws, and where the Scorpion stretches

its arms in one direction and the Crab in another. Nor
will you find it easy to guide those horses, with their
breasts full of fire that they breathe forth from their
mouths and nostrils. I can scarcely govern them myself,
when they are unruly and resist the reins. Beware, my
son, lest I be the donor of a fatal gift recall your request
;
While yet you may. Do you ask me for a proof that you
are sprung from my blood? I give you a proof in my
fears for you. Look at my face — I would that you could
look into my breast, you would there see all a father's
anxiety. Finally," he continued, "look round the world
and choose whatever you will of what earth or sea con-
tains most precious — ask it and fear no refusal. This
only I pray you not to urge. It is not honor, but destruc-
tion you seek. Why do you hang round my neck and still
—
entreat me? You shall have it if you persist, the oath
is sworn and must be kept, — but I beg you to choose more
wisely."
He ended; but the youth rejected all admonition and
held to his demand. So, having resisted as long as he
could, Phoebus at last led the way to where stood the lofty
chariot.
It was of gold, the gift of Vulcan ; the axle was of gold,
the pole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. Along
the seat were rows of chrysolites and diamonds which
reflected all around the brightness of the sun. While
the daring youth gazed in admiration, the early Dawn
threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the
pathway strewn with roses. The stars withdrew, mar-
shalled by the Day-star, which last of all retired also.
The father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and
the Moon preparing to retire, ordered the Hours to har-
ness up the horses. They obeyed, and led forth from the
lofty stalls the steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached
the reins. Then the father bathed the face of his son
with a powerful unguent, and made him capable of en-
during the brightness of the flame. He set the rays on
his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "If, my son,
you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip
and hold tight the reins. They go fast enough of their
own accord; the labor is to hold them in. You are not
to take the straight road directly between the five circles,
but turn off to the left. Keep within the limit of the
middle zone, and avoid the northern and the southern
alike. You will see the marks of the wheels, and they
will serve to guide you. And, that the skies and the earth
may each receive their due share of heat, go not too high,
or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or
you will set the earth on fire the middle course is safest
;
and best. 1 And now I leave you to your chance, which I

hope will plan better for you than you have done for
yourself. Night is passing out of the western gates and
we can delay no longer. Take the reins; but if at last
your heart fails you, and you will benefit by my advice,
'stay where you are in safety, and suffer me to light and
warm the earth." The agile youth sprang into the chariot,
stood erect, and grasped the reins with delight, pouring
out thanks to his reluctant parent.
Meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings
and fiery breath, and stamp the ground impatient. Now
the bars are let down, and the boundless plain of the
universe lies open before them. They dart forward and
cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun the morning
breezes which started from the same eastern goal. The
steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter
than usual and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither
;
and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its accus-

tomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. They rush
headlong and leave the travelled road. He is alarmed,
and knows not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has
he the power. Then, for the first time, the Great and
Little Bear were scorched with heat, and would fain,
if it were possible, have plunged into the water and the
;
Serpent which lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid

and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage
revive. Bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered
with his plough, and all unused to rapid motion.
When hapless Phaeton looked down upon the earth,
now spreading in vast extent beneath him, he grew pale
and his knees shook with terror. In spite of the glare
1 Expressions.
See Proverbial
PHAETON 43
all around him, the sight of his eyes grew dim. He

wished he had never touched his father's horses, never
learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. He
is borne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest,
when the pilot can do no more and betakes himself to his
prayers. What shall he do ? Much of the heavenly road
is left behind, but more remains before. He turns his
eyes from one direction to the other; now to the goal
whence he began his course, now to the realms of sunset
which he is not destined to reach. He loses his self-com-
—
mand, and knows not what to do, whether to draw tight
the reins or throw them loose; he forgets the names of
the horses. He sees with terror the monstrous forms
scattered over the surface of heaven. Here the Scor-
pion extended his two great arms, with his tail and
crooked claws stretching over two signs of the zodiac.
When the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and men-
acing with his fangs, his courage failed, and the reins
fell from his hands. The horses, when they felt them
loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained
went off into unknown regions of the sky, in among the
stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in
high heaven, now down almost to the earth. The moon
saw with astonishment her brother's chariot running be-
neath her own. The clouds begin to smoke, and the
mountain tops take fire the fields are parched with heat,
;
the plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches burn,
the harvest is ablaze! But these are small things. Great
cities perished, with their walls and towers whole nations
;
with their people were consumed to ashes !The forest-

clad mountains burned, Athos and Taurus and Tmolus
and (Ete Ida, once celebrated for fountains, but now all
;
dry ; the Muses' mountain Helicon, and Hsemus yEtna,;
with fires within and without, and Parnassus, with his

two peaks, and Rhodope, forced at last to part with his
snowy crown. Her cold climate was no protection to
Scythia, Caucasus burned, and Ossa and Pindus, and,
greater than both, Olympus ; the Alps high in air, and the
Apennines crowned with clouds.
Then Phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the
heat intolerable. The air he breathed was like the air
of a furnace and full of burning ashes, and the smoke
was of a pitchy darkness. He dashed forward he knew
not whither. Then, it is believed, the people of Êthiopia
became black by the blood being forced so suddenly to
the surface, and the Libyan desert was dried up to the
condition in which it remains to this day. The Nymphs
of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their
waters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks:
Tanais smoked, and Caicus, Xanthus, and Meander;
Babylonian Euphrates and Ganges, Tagus with golden
sands, and Cayster where the swans resort. Nile fled
away and hid his head in the desert, and there it still
remains concealed. Where he used to discharge his
waters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven
dry channels alone remained. The earth cracked open,
and through the chinks light broke into Tartarus, and
frightened the king of shadows and his queen. The sea
shrank up. Where before was water, it became a dry
plain and the mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted
;
up their heads and became islands. The fishes sought

the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as
usual to sport on the surface. Even Nereus, and his wife
Doris, with the Nereids, their daughters, sought the deep-
est caves for refuge. Thrice Neptune essayed to raise
his head above the surface, and thrice was driven back
by the heat. Earth, surrounded as she was by waters,
yet with head and shoulders bare, screening her face with
her hand, looked up to heaven, and with a husky voice
called on Jupiter:
"O ruler of the gods, if I have deserved this treatment,
and it is your will that I perish with fire, why withhold
your thunderbolts? Let me at least fall by your hand.
Is this the reward of my fertility, of my obedient service?
Is it for this that I have supplied herbage for cattle, and
fruits for men, and frankincense for your altars? But
if I am unworthy of regard, what has my brother Ocean
done to deserve such a fate? If neither of us can excite
your pity, think, I pray you, of your own heaven, and
behold how both the poles are smoking which sustain
your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed. Atlas
faints, and scarce holds up his burden. If sea, earth,
: :
PHAETON 45
and heaven perish, we fall into ancient Chaos. Save what

yet remains to us from the devouring flame. O, take
thought for our deliverance in this awful moment!"
Thus spoke Earth, and overcome with heat and thirst,
could say no more. Then Jupiter omnipotent, calling to
witness all the gods, including him who had lent the
chariot, and showing them that all was lost unless speedy
remedy were applied, mounted the lofty tower from
whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the
forked lightnings. But at that time not a cloud was to
be found to interpose for a screen to earth, nor was a
shower remaining unexhausted. He thundered, and
brandishing a lightning bolt in his right hand launched
it against the charioteer, and struck him at the same mo-
ment from his seat and from existence! Phaeton, with
his hair on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which
marks the heavens with its brightness as it falls, and
Eridanus, the great river, received him and cooled his
burning frame. The Italian Naiads reared a tomb for
him, and inscribed these words upon the stone
"Driver of Phoebus' chariot, Phaeton,
Struck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone.
He could not rule his father's car of fire,
Yet was it much so nobly to aspire." 1
His sisters, the Heliades, as they lamented his fate,

were turned into poplar trees, on the banks of the river,
and their tears, which continued to flow, became amber
as they dropped into the stream.
Milman, in his poem of "Samor," makes the following

allusion to Phaeton's story
"As when the palsied universe aghast

Lay . mute and still,
. .
When drove, so poets sing, the Sun-born youth

Devious through Heaven's affrighted signs his sire's
Ill-granted chariot. Him the Thunderer hurled
From th' empyrean headlong to the gulf
Of the half-parched Eridanus, where weep
Even now the sister trees their amber tears
O'er Phaeton untimely dead."
In the beautiful lines of Walter Savage Landor, de-

1 See Proverbial Expressions.
:

scriptive of the Sea-shell, there is an allusion to the Sun's
palace and chariot. The water-nymph says
". .I have sinuous shells of pearly hue

.
Within, and things that lustre have imbibed

In the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked
His chariot wheel stands midway on the wave.
Shake one and it awakens; then apply
Its polished lip to your attentive ear,
And it remembers its august abodes,
And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there."
— Gebir, Book I.
CHAPTER VI
MIDAS—BAUCIS AND PHILEMON
Bacchus,, on a certain occasion, found his old school-

master and foster-father, Silenus, missing. The old man
had been drinking, and in that state wandered away, and
was found by some peasants, who carried him to their
king, Midas. Midas recognized him, and treated him
hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with
an unceasing round of jollity. On the eleventh day he
brought Silenus back, and restored him in safety to his
pupil. Whereupon Bacchus offered Midas his choice
of a reward, whatever he might wish. He asked that
whatever he might touch should be changed into gold.
Bacchus consented, though sorry that he had not made a
better choice. Midas went his way, rejoicing in his new-
acquired power, which he hastened to put to the test.
He could scarce believe his eyes when he found a twig
of an oak, which he plucked from the branch, become
gold in his hand. He took up a stone it changed to gold.
;
He touched a sod; it did the same. He took an apple

from the tree; you would have thought he had robbed
the garden of the Hesperides. His joy knew no bounds,
and as soon as he got home, he ordered the servants to
set a splendid repast on the table. Then he found to his
dismay that whether he touched bread, it hardened in his
MIDAS
hand or put a morsel to his lips, it defied his teeth. He
;
took a glass of wine, but it flowed down his throat like

melted gold.
In consternation at the unprecedented affliction, he
strove to divest himself of his power; he hated the gift
he had lately coveted. But all in vain starvation seemed
;
to await him. He raised his arms, all shining with gold,

in prayer to Bacchus, begging to be delivered from his
glittering destruction. Bacchus, merciful deity, heard and
consented. "Go," said he, "to the River Pactolus, trace
the stream to its fountain-head, there plunge your head
and body in, and wash away your fault and its pun-
ishment." He did so, and scarce had he touched the
waters before the gold-creating power passed into them,
and the river-sands became changed into gold, as they
remain to this day.
Thenceforth Midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt
in the country, and became a worshipper of Pan, the
god of the On a certain occasion Pan had the
fields.
temerity to compare his music with that of Apollo, and
to challenge the god of the lyre to a trial of skill. The
challenge was accepted, and Tmolus, the mountain god,
was chosen umpire. The senior took his seat, and cleared
away the trees from his ears to listen. At a given signal
Pan blew on his pipes, and with his rustic melody gave
great satisfaction to himself and his faithful follower
Midas, who happened to be present. Then Tmolus turned
his head toward the Sun-god, and all his trees turned with
him. Apollo rose, his brow wreathed with Parnassian
laurel, while hisrobe of Tyrian purple swept the ground.
In his left hand he held the
lyre, and with his right hand
struck the strings. Ravished with the harmony, Tmolus
at once awarded the victory to the god of the lyre, and
all but Midas acquiesced in the judgment. He dissented,
and questioned the justice of the award. Apollo would
not suffer such a depraved pair of ears any longer to
wear the human form, but caused them to increase in
length, grow hairy, within and without, and movable on
their roots in short, to be on the perfect pattern of those
;
of an ass.
Mortified enough was King Midas at this mishap but ;
:

he consoled himself with the thought that it was possible
to hide his misfortune, which he attempted to do by means
of an ample turban or head-dress. But his hair-dresser
of course knew the secret. He was charged not to men-
tion it, and threatened with dire punishment if he pre-
sumed to disobey. But he found it too much for his
discretion to keep such a secret so he went out into the
;
meadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down,

whispered the story, and covered it up. Before long a
thick bed of reeds sprang up in the meadow, and as soon
as it had gained its growth, began whispering the story,
and has continued to do so, from that day to this, every
time a breeze passes over the place.
The story of King Midas has been told by others with

some variations. Dryden, in the "Wife of Bath's Tale,"
makes Midas's queen the betrayer of the secret
"This Midas knew, and durst communicate

To none but to his wife his ears of state."
Midas was king of Phrygia. He was

the son of Gor-
dius, a poor countryman, who was taken by the people
and made king, in obedience to the command of the
oracle, which had said that their future king should come
in a wagon. While the people were deliberating, Gor-
dius with his wife and son came driving his wagon into
the public square.
Gordius, being made king, dedicated his wagon to the
deity of the oracle, and tied it up in its place with a fast
knot. This was the celebrated Gordian knot, which, in
after times it was said, whoever should untie should be-
come lord of all Asia. Many tried to untie it, but none
succeeded, till Alexander the Great, in his career of con-
quest, came to Phrygia. He tried his skill with as ill suc-
cess as others, till growing impatient he drew his sword
and cut the knot. When he afterwards succeeded in
subjecting all Asia to his sway, people began to think that
he had complied with the terms of the oracle according
to its true meaning.
BAUCIS AND PHILEMON 49
BAUCIS AND PHILEMON
On a certain hill in Phrygia stands a linden tree and

an oak, enclosed by a low wall. Not far from the spot
is a marsh, formerly good habitable land, but now in-
dented with pools, the resort of fen-birds and cormorants.
Once on a time Jupiter, in human shape, visited this
country, and with him his son Mercury (he of the ca-
duceus), without his wings. They presented themselves,
as weary travellers, at many
a door, seeking rest and
shelter, but found for it was late, and the in-
all closed,
hospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves to open
for their reception. At last a humble mansion received
them, a small thatched cottage, where Baucis, a pious old
dame, and her husband Philemon, united when young,
had grown old together. Not ashamed of their poverty,
they made it endurable by moderate desires and kind dis-
positions. One need not look there for master or for
servant they two were the whole household, master and
;
servant alike. When the two heavenly guests crossed

the humble threshold, and bowed their heads to pass
under the low door, the old man placed a seat, on which
Baucis, bustling and attentive, spread a cloth, and begged
them to sit down. Then she raked out the coals from the
ashes, and kindled up a fire, fed it with leaves and dry
bark, and with her scanty breath blew it into a flame.
She brought out of a corner split sticks and dry branches,
broke them up, and placed them under the small kettle.
Her husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden, and
she shred them from the stalks, and prepared them for
the pot. He reached down with a forked stick a flitch of
bacon hanging in the chimney, cut a small piece, and put
it in the pot to boil with the herbs, setting away the rest
for another time. A

beechen bowl was filled with warm
water, that their guests might wash. While all was do-
ing, they beguiled the time with conversation.
On the bench designed for the guests was laid a cush-
ion stuffed with sea-weed; and a cloth, only produced
on great occasions, but ancient and coarse enough, was
spread over that. The old lady, with her apron on, with
trembling hand set the table. One leg 'was shorter than
:

the rest, but a piece of slate put under restored the level.
When fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet-
smelling herbs. Upon it she set some of chaste Minerva's
olives, some cornel berries preserved in vinegar, and
added radishes and cheese, with eggs lightly cooked in
the ashes. All were served in earthen dishes, and an
earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups, stood beside
them. When all was ready, the stew, smoking hot, was
set on the table. Some wine, not of the oldest, was
added and for dessert, apples and wild honey and over
; ;
and above all, friendly faces, and simple but hearty

welcome.
Now while the repast proceeded, the old folks were
astonished to see that the wine, as fast as it was poured
out, renewed itself in the pitcher, of its own accord.
Struck with terror, Baucis and Philemon recognized their
heavenly guests, fell on their knees, and with clasped
hands implored forgiveness for their poor entertain-
ment. There was an old goose, which they kept as the
guardian of their humble cottage and they bethought
;
them to make this a sacrifice in honor of their guests.

But the goose, too nimble, with the aid of feet and wings,
for the old folks, eluded their pursuit, and at last took
shelter between the gods themselves. They forbade it to
be slain and spoke in these words "We are gods. This
; :
inhospitable village shall pay the penalty of its impiety;

you alone shall go free from the chastisement. Quit
your house, and come with us to the top of yonder hill."
They hastened to obey, and, staff in hand, labored up the
steep ascent. They had reached to within an arrow's
flight of the top, when turning their eyes below, they
beheld all the country sunk in a lake, only their own
house left standing. While they gazed with wonder at
the sight, and lamented the fate of their neighbors, that
old house of theirs was changed into a temple. Col-
umns took the place of the corner posts, the thatch grew
yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors became
marble, the doors were enriched with carving and orna-
ments of gold. Then spoke Jupiter in benignant accents
"Excellent old man, and woman worthy of such a hus-
band, speak, tell us your wishes what favor have you
;
BAUCIS AND PHILEMON 51
to ask of us?" Philemon took counsel with Baucis a

few moments then declared to the gods their united
;
wish. "We ask to be priests and guardians of this your

temple; and since here we have passed our lives in love
and concord, we wish that one and the same hour may
take us both from life, that I may not live to see her
grave, nor be laid in my own by her." Their prayer was
granted. They were the keepers of the temple as long
as they lived. When grown very old, as they stood one
day before the steps of the sacred edifice, and were telling
the story of the place, Baucis saw Philemon begin to
put forth leaves, and old Philemon saw Baucis changing
in like manner. And now a leafy crown had grown
over their heads, while exchanging parting words, as
long as they could speak. "Farewell, dear spouse," they
said, together, and at the same moment the bark closed
over their mouths. The Tyanean shepherd still shows
the two trees, standing side by side, made out of the
two good old people.
The story of Baucis and Philemon has been imitated

by Swift, in a burlesque style, the actors in the change
being two wandering saints, and the house being changed
into a church, of which Philemon is made the parson.
The following may serve as a specimen:
"They scarce had spoke, when, fair and soft,

The roof began to mount aloft;
Aloft rose every beam and rafter;
The heavy wall climbed slowly after.
The chimney widened and grew higher*
Became a steeple with a spire.
The kettle to the top was hoist.
And there stood fastened to a joist,
But with the upside down, to show
Its inclination for below;
In vain, for a superior force,
Applied at bottom, stops its course;
Doomed ever in suspense to dwell,
'Tis now no kettle, but a bell.
A wooden jack, which had almost
Lost by disuse the art to roast,
A sudden alteration feels.
Increased by new intestine wheels;
And, what exalts the wonder more,
;

The number made the motion slower;
The flier, though 't had leaden feet,
Turned round so quick you scarce could see 't;
But slackened by some secret power,
Now hardly moves an inch an hour.
The jack and chimney, near allied,
Had never left each other's side:
The chimney to a steeple grown,
The jack would not be left alone;
But up against the steeple reared,
Became a clock, and still adhered;
And still its love to household cares
By a shrill voice at noon declares,
Warning the cook-maid not to burn
That roast meat which it cannot turn
The groaning chair began to crawl,
Like a huge snail, along the wall;
There stuck aloft in public view,
And with small change, a pulpit grew.
A bedstead of the antique mode,
Compact of timber many a load,
Such as our ancestors did use,
Was metamorphosed into pews,
Which still their ancient nature keep
By lodging folks disposed to sleep."
CHAPTER VII
PROSERPINE GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA
When Jupiter and his brothers had defeated the

Titans and banished them to Tartarus, a new enemy
rose up against the gods. They were the giants Typhon,
Briareus, Enceladus, and others. Some of them had a
hundred arms, others breathed out fire. They were
finally subdued and buried alive under Mount yEtna,
where they still sometimes struggle to get loose, and
shake the whole island with earthquakes. Their breath
comes up through the mountain, and is what men call
the eruption of the volcano.
The fall of these monsters shook the earth, so that
Pluto was alarmed, and feared that his kingdom would
be laid open to the light of day. Under this apprehen-
sion, he mounted his chariot, drawn by black horses,
PROSERPINE S3
and took a circuit of inspection to satisfy himself of

the extent of the damage. While he was thus engaged,
Venus, who was sitting on Mount Eryx playing with
her boy Cupid, espied him, and said, "My son, take your
darts with which you conquer all, even Jove himself,
and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch,
who rules the realm of Tartarus. Why should he alone
escape? Seize the opportunity to extend your empire
and mine. Do you not see that even in heaven some
despise our power? Minerva the wise, and Diana the
huntress, defy us; and there is that daughter of Ceres,
who threatens to follow their example. Now do you,
if you have any regard for your own interest or mine,
join these two in one." The boy unbound his quiver,
and selected his sharpest and truest arrow then straining
;
the bow against his knee, he attached the string, and,

having made ready, shot the arrow with its barbed point
right into the heart of Pluto.
In the vale of Enna there is a lake embowered in
woods, which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun,
while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and
Spring reigns perpetual. Here Proserpine was playing
with her companions, gathering lilies and violets, and
filling her basket and her apron with them, when Pluto
saw her, loved her, and carried her off. She screamed
for help to her mother and companions and when in
;
her fright she dropped the corners of her apron and

let the flowers fall, childlike she felt the loss of them
as an addition to her grief. The ravisher urged on his
steeds, calling them each by name, and throwing loose
over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins. When
he reached the River Cyane, and it opposed his passage,
he struck the river-bank with his trident, and the earth
opened and gave him a passage to Tartarus.
Ceres sought her daughter all the world over. Bright-
haired Aurora, when she came forth in the morning,
and Hesperus when he led out the stars in the evening,
found her still busy in the search. But it was all un-
availing. At length, weary and sad, she sat down upon
a stone, and continued sitting nine days and nights, in
the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and fall-
ing showers. It was where now stands the city of
Eleusis, then the home of an old man named Celeus.
He was out in the field, gathering acorns and black-
berries, and sticks for his fire. His little girl was driving
home their two goats, and as she passed the goddess,
who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said
to her, "Mother,"
— — and the name was sweet to the ears
of Ceres, "why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?"
The old man also stopped, though his load was heavy,
and begged her to come into his cottage, such as it was.
She declined, and he urged her. "Go in peace," she
replied, "and be happy in your daughter; I have lost
mine." As —
she spoke, tears or something like tears,
for the gods never weep — fell down her cheeks upon
her bosom. The compassionate old man and his child
wept with her. Then said he, "Come with us, and de-
spise not our humble roof; so may your daughter be
restored to you in safety." "Lead on," said she, "I can-
not resist that appeal 1" So she rose from the stone
and went with them. As they walked he told her that
his only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish, and
sleepless. She stooped and gathered some poppies. As
they entered the cottage, they found all in great distress,
for the boy seemed past hope of recovery. Metanira,
his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stoopeu
and kissed the lips of the sick child. Instantly the pale-
ness left his face, and healthy vigor returned to his body.
—
The whole family were delighted that is, the father,
mother, and little girl, for they were all; they had no
servants. They spread the table, and put upon it curds
and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. While they
ate, Ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy.
When night came and all was still, she arose, and taking
the sleeping boy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and
uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went
and laid him in the ashes. His mother, who had been
watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with
a cry and snatched the child from the fire. Then Ceres
assumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all
around. While they were overcome with astonishment,
she said, "Mother, you have been cruel in your fondness
;
PROSERPINE 55
to your son. I would have made him immortal, but you

have frustrated my attempt. Nevertheless, he shall be
great and useful. He shall teach men the use of the
plough, and the rewards which labor can win from the
cultivated soil." So saying, she wrapped a cloud about
her, and mounting her chariot rode away.
Ceres continued her search for her daughter, passing
from land to land, and across seas and rivers, till at
length she returned to Sicily, whence she at first set out,
and stood by the banks of the River Cyane, where Pluto
made himself a passage with his prize to his own do-
minions. The river nymph would have told the goddess
all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of Pluto;
so she only ventured to take up the girdle which Proser-
pine had dropped in her flight, and waft it to the feet
of the mother. Ceres, seeing this, was no longer in
doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the cause,
and laid the blame on the innocent land. "Ungrateful
soil," said she, "which I have endowed with fertility
and clothed with herbage and nourishing grain, no more
shall you enjoy my favors." Then the cattle died, the
plough broke in the furrow, the seed failed to come up
there was too much sun, there was too much rain; the
birds stole the seeds —thistles and brambles were the
only growth. Seeing this, the fountain Arethusa inter-
ceded for the land. "Goddess," said she, "blame not the
land; it opened unwillingly to yield a passage to your
daughter. I can tell you of her fate, for I have seen
her. This is not my native country I came hither from
;
Elis. I was a woodland nymph, and delighted in the

chase. They praised my beauty, but I cared nothing
for and rather boasted of my hunting exploits. One
it,
day I was returning from the wood, heated with exer-

cise, when I came to a stream silently flowing, so clear
that you might count the pebbles on the bottom. The
willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down to
the water's edge. I approached, I touched the water
with my foot. I stepped in knee-deep, and not content
with that, I laid my garments on the willows and went
in. While I sported in the water, I heard an indistinct
murmur coming up as out of the depths of the stream;
—
and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. The

voice said, 'Why do you fly, Arethusa? I am Alpheus,
the god of this stream.' I ran, he pursued he was not
;
more swift than I, but he was stronger, and gained upon

me, as my strength failed. At last, exhausted, I cried
for help to Diana. 'Help me, goddess help your vo-
!
tary !' The goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in

a thick cloud. The river god looked now this way and
now that, and twice came close to me, but could not
find me. 'Arethusa Arethusa !' he cried. Oh, how I
!
—
trembled, like a lamb that hears the wolf growling out-
side the fold. A cold sweat came over me, my hair
flowed down in streams where my foot stood there was
;
a pool. In short, in less time than it takes to tell it I

became a fountain. But in this form Alpheus knew me
and attempted to mingle his stream with mine. Diana
cleft the ground, and I, endeavoring to escape him,
plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of
the earth came out here in Sicily. While I passed
through the lower parts of the earth, I saw your Proser-
pine. She was sad, but no longer showing alarm in her
countenance. Her look was such as became a queen
the queen of Erebus the powerful bride of the monarch
;
of the realms of the dead."

When Ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one
stupefied; then turned her chariot towards heaven, and
hastened to present herself before the throne of Jove.
She told the story of her bereavement, and implored
Jupiter to interfere to procure the restitution of her
daughter. Jupiter consented on one condition, namely,
that Proserpine should not during her stay in the lower
world have taken any food; otherwise, the Fates for-
bade her release. Accordingly, Mercury was sent, ac-
companied by Spring, to demand Proserpine of Pluto.
The wily monarch consented but, alas the maiden had
;
!
taken a pomegranate which Pluto offered her, and had

sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. This
was enough to prevent her complete release but a com-
;
promise was made, by which she was to pass half the

time with her mother, and the rest with her husband
Pluto.
— ;
PROSERPINE 57
Ceres &\\6wed herself to be pacified with this arrange-

ment, and restored the earth to her favor. Now she
remembered Celeus and his family, and her promise to
his infant son Triptolemus. When the boy grew up,
she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sow
the seed. She took him in her chariot, drawn by winged
dragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting
to mankind valuable grains, and the knowledge of agri-
culture. After his return, Triptolemus built a magnifi-
cent temple to Ceres in Eleusis, and established the
worship of the goddess, under the name of the Eleu-
sinian mysteries, which, in the splendor and solemnity
of their observance, surpassed all other religious cele-
brations among the Greeks.
There can be little doubt of this story of Ceres and

Proserpine being an allegory. Proserpine signifies the
seed-corn which when cast into the ground lies there
—
concealed that is, she is carried off by the god of the
underworld. It reappears —
that is, Proserpine is re-
stored to her mother. Spring leads her back to the light
of day.
Milton alludes to the story of Proserpine in "Paradise

Lost," Book IV.:
". . . Not that fair field
Of Enna where Proserpine gathering flowers,
Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis
Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain
To seek her through the world,
. . might with this Paradise
.
Of Eden strive."
Hood, in his "Ode to Melancholy," uses the same

allusion very beautifully:
"Forgive, if somewhile I forget,

In woe to come the present bliss
As frighted Proserpine let fall
Her flowers at the sight of Dis."
The River Alpheus does in fact disappear under-

ground, in part of its course, finding its way through
: ! —

subterranean channels till it again appears on the sur-
face. Itwas said that the Sicilian fountain Arethusa
was the same stream, which, after passing under the
sea, came up again in Sicily. Hence the story ran that
a cup thrown into the Alpheus appeared again in Are-
thusa. It is this fable of the underground course of
Alpheus that Coleridge alludes to in his poem of "Kubla
Khan"
"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A pleasure-dome decree,
stately
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man,
Down to a sunless sea."
In one of Moore's juvenile poems he thus alludes to
the same story, and to the practice of throwing garlands
or other light objects on his stream to be carried down-
ward by it, and afterwards reproduced at its emerging:
"O my beloved, how divinely sweet
Is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet
Like him the river god, whose waters flow,
With love their only light, through caves below,
Wafting in triumph all the flowery braids
And festal rings, with which Olympic maids
Have decked his current, as an offering meet
To lay at Arethusa's shining feet.
Think, when he meets at last his fountain bride,
What perfect love must thrill the blended tide!
Each lost in each, till mingling into one,
Their lot the same for shadow or for sun,
A type of true love, to the deep they run."
The following extract from Moore's "Rhymes on the

Road" gives an account of a celebrated picture by Al-
bano, at Milan, called a Dance of Loves:
" 'Tis for the theft of Enna's flower from earth
These urchins celebrate their dance of mirth,
Round the green tree, like fays upon a heath;
Those that are nearest linked in order bright,
Cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath;
And those more distant showing from beneath
The others' wings their little eyes of light.
While see! among the clouds, their eldest brother,
But just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss,
This prank of Pluto to his charmed mother,
Who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss."
;
GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA 59
GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA

Glaucus was a fisherman. One day he had drawn his
nets to land, and had taken a great many fishes of vari-
ous kinds. So he emptied his net, and proceeded to
sort the fishes on the grass. The place where he stood
was a beautiful island in the river, a solitary spot, unin-
habited, and not used for pasturage of cattle, nor ever
visited by any but himself. On a sudden, the fishes,
which had been laid on the grass, began to revive and
move their fins as if they were in the water; and while
he looked on astonished, they one and all moved off to
the water, plunged in, and swam away. He did not
know what to make of this, whether some god had done
it or some secret power in the herbage. "What herb
has such a power ?" he exclaimed and gathering some
;
of it, he tasted it. Scarce had the juices of the plant

reached his palate when he found himself agitated with
a longing desire for the water. He could no longer
restrain himself, but bidding farewell to earth, he
plunged into the stream. The gods of the water re-
ceived him graciously, and admitted him to the honor
of their society. They obtained the consent of Oceanus
and Tethys, the sovereigns of the sea, that all that was
mortal in him should be washed away. A hundred
rivers poured their waters over him. Then he lost all
sense of his former nature and all consciousness. When
he recovered, he found himself changed in form and
mind. His hair was sea-green, and trailed behind him
on the water; his shoulders grew broad, and what had
been thighs and legs assumed the form of a fish's tail.
The sea-gods complimented him on the change of his
appearance, and he fancied himself rather a good-looking
personage.
One day Glaucus saw the beautiful maiden Scylla, the
favorite of the water-nymphs, rambling on the shore,
and when she had found a sheltered nook, laving her
limbs in the clear water. He fell in love with her, and
showing himself on the surface, spoke to her, saying
such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay
for she turned to run immediately on the sight of him,
and ran till she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea.
Here she stopped and turned round to see whether it was
a god or a sea animal, and observed with wonder his
shape and color. Glaucus partly emerging from the
water, and supporting himself against a rock, said,
"Maiden, I am no monster, nor a sea animal, but a god;
and neither Proteus nor Triton ranks higher than I.
Once I was a mortal, and followed the sea for a living;
but now I belong wholly to it." Then he told the story
of his metamorphosis, and how he had been promoted to
his present dignity, and added, "But what avails all this
if it fails to move your heart?" He was going on in
this strain, but Scylla turned and hastened away.
Glaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to con-
sult the enchantress Circe. Accordingly he repaired to
—
her island the same where afterwards Ulysses landed,
as we shall see in one of our later stories. After mutual
salutations, he said, "Goddess, I entreat your pity; you
alone can relieve the pain I suffer. The power of herbs
I know as well as any one, for it is to them I owe my
change of form. I love Scylla. I am ashamed to tell
you how I have sued and promised to her, and how
scornfully she has treated me. I beseech you to use
your incantations, or potent herbs, if they are more pre-
vailing, not to cure me of my love, — for that I do not
—
wish, but to make her share it and yield me a like re-
turn." To which Circe replied, for she was not insensible
to the attractions of the sea-green deity, "You had better
pursue a willing object; you are worthy to be sought,
instead of having to seek in vain. Be not diffident, know
your own worth. I protest to you that even I, goddess
though I be, and learned in the virtues of plants and
spells, should not know how to refuse you. If she
scorns you scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet
you half way, and thus make a due return to both at
once." To these words Glaucus replied, "Sooner shall
trees grow at the bottom of the ocean, and sea-weed on
the top of the mountains, than I will cease to love Scylla,
and her alone."
The goddess was indignant, but she could not punish
him, neither did she wish to do so, for she liked him too
GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA 61
well ; all her wrath against her rival, poor

so she turned
Scylla. She took plants of poisonous powers and
mixed them together, with incantations and charms.
Then she passed through the crowd of gambolling
beasts, the victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast
of Sicily, where Scylla lived. There was a little bay on
the shore to which Scylla used to resort, in the heat of
the day, to breathe the air of the sea, and to bathe in its
waters. Here the goddess poured her poisonous mix-
ture, and muttered over it incantations of mighty power.
Scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up to
her waist. What was her horror to perceive a brood of
serpents and barking monsters surrounding her! At
first she could not imagine they were a part of herself,
and tried to run from them, and to drive them away; but
as she ran she carried them with her, and when she tried
to touch her limbs, she found her hands touch only the
yawning jaws of monsters. Scylla remained rooted to
the spot. Her temper grew as ugly as her form, and she
took pleasure in devouring hapless mariners who came
within her grasp. Thus she destroyed six of the com-
panions of Ulysses, and tried to wreck the ships of
y£neas, till at last she was turned into a rock, and as such
still continues to be a terror to mariners.
Keats, in his "Endymion," has given a new version of

the ending of "Glaucus and Scylla." Glaucus consents
to Circe's blandishments, till he by chance is witness to
her transactions with her beasts. 1 Disgusted with her
treachery and cruelty, he tries to escape from her, but
is taken and brought back, when with reproaches she
banishes him, sentencing him to pass a thousand years
in decrepitude and pain. He returns to the sea, and
there finds the body of Scylla, whom the goddess has
not transformed but drowned. Glaucus learns that his
destiny is that, if he passes his thousand years in
collecting all the bodies of drowned lovers, a youth be-
loved of the gods will appear and help him. Endymion
fulfils this prophecy, and aids in restoring Glaucus to
youth, and Scylla and all the drowned lovers to life.
1 See page 241,
:
The following is Glaucus's account of his feelings

after his "sea-change"
"I plunged for life or death. To interknit

One's senses with so dense a breathing stuff
Might seem a work of pain so not enough
;
Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt,

And buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt
Whole days and days in sheer astonishment;
Forgetful utterly of self-intent,
Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow.
Then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show
His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill,
I tried in fear the pinions of my will.
'Twas freedom! and at once I visited
The ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed," etc.
—Keats.
CHAPTER VIII
PYGMALION —DRYOPE—^VENUS AND ADONIS APOLLO AND

HYACINTHUS
Pygmalion saw so much to blame in women that
he came at last to abhor the sex, and resolved to live
unmarried. He was a sculptor, and had made with
wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so beautiful that no
living woman came anywhere near it. It was indeed
the perfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be
alive, and only prevented from moving by modesty.
His art was so perfect that it concealed itself and its
product looked like the workmanship of nature. Pyg-
malion admired his own work, and at last fell in love
with the counterfeit creation. Oftentimes he laid his
hand upon it as if to assure himself whether it were
living or not, and could not even then believe that it
was only ivory. He caressed it, and gave it presents
—
such as young girls love, bright shells and polished
stones, little birds and flowers of various hues, beads
and amber. He put raiment on its limbs, and jewels on
its fingers, and a necklace about its neck. To the ears
he hung earrings, and strings of pearls upon the breast.
Her dress became her, and she looked not less charming
PYGMALION 63
than when unattired. He laid her on a couch spread

with cloths of Tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and
put her head upon a pillow of the softest feathers, as if
she could enjoy their softness.
The festival of Venus was at hand —a festival cele-
brated with great pomp Cyprus.
at Victims were
offered, the altars smoked, and the odor of incense filled
the air. When Pygmalion had performed his part in the
solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidly said,
"Ye gods, who can do all things, give me, I pray you,
said instead
——
for my wife" he dared not say "my ivory virgin," but
"one like my ivory virgin." Venus, who
was present at the festival, heard him and knew the
thought he would have uttered; and as an omen of her
favor, caused the flame on the altar to shoot up thrice
in a fiery point into the air. When he returned home,
he went to see his statue, and leaning over the couch,
gave a kiss to the mouth. It seemed to be warm. He
pressed its lips again, he laid his hand upon the limbs;
the ivory felt soft to his touch and yielded to his fingers
like the wax of Hymettus. While he stands astonished
and glad, though doubting, and fears he may be mis-
taken, again and again with a lover's ardor he touches
the object of his hopes. It was indeed alive The veins
!
when pressed yielded to the finger and again resumed

their roundness. Then at last the votary of Venus
found words to thank the goddess, and pressed his lips
upon lips as real as his own. The virgin felt the kisses
and blushed, and opening her timid eyes to the light,
|
fixed them at the same moment on her lover. Venus
blessed the nuptials she had formed, and from this union
Paphos was born, from whom the city, sacred to Venus,
received its name.
Schiller, in his poem the "Ideals," applies this tale of

Pygmalion to the love of nature in a youthful heart.
The following translation is furnished by a friend:
"As once with prayers in passion flowing,

Pygmalion embraced the stone,
Till from the frozen marble glowing,
The light of feeling o'er him shone,
So did I clasp with young devotion
Bright nature to a poet's heart;
Till breath and warmth and vital motion
Seemed through the statue form to dart.
K.
"And then, in all my ardor sharing,
The silent form expression found;
Returned my kiss of youthful daring,
And understood my heart's quick sound.
Then lived for me the bright creation,
The silver rill with song was rife;
The trees, the roses shared sensation,
An echo of my boundless life."
—S. G. B.
DRYOPE
Dryope and Iole were sisters. The former was the
wife of Andrsemon, beloved by her husband, and happy
in the birth of her first child. One day the sisters
strolled to the bank of a stream that sloped gradually
down to the water's edge, while the upland was over-
grown with myrtles. They were intending to gather
flowers for forming garlands for the altars of the
nymphs, and Dryope carried her child at her bosom,
precious burden, and nursed him as she walked. Near
the water grew a lotus plant, full of purple flowers.
Dryope gathered some and offered them to the baby, and
Iole was about to do the same, when she perceived blood
dropping from the places where her sister had broken
them off the stem. The plant was no other than the
nymph Lotis, who, running from a base pursuer, had
been changed into this form. This they learned from
the country people when it was too late.
Dryope, horror-struck when she perceived what she
had done, would gladly have hastened from the spot,
but found her feet rooted to the ground. She tried to
pull them away, but moved nothing but her upper limbs.
The woodiness crept upward, and by degrees invested
her body. In anguish she attempted to tear her hair, but
found her hands filled with leaves. The infant felt his
mother's bosom begin to harden, and the milk cease to
flow. Iole looked on at the sad fate of her sister, and
could render no assistance. She embraced the growing
:
VENUS AND ADONIS 65
trunk, asif she would hold back the advancing wood,

and would gladly have been enveloped in the same bark.
At this moment Andrsemon, the husband of Dryope,
with her father, approached; and when they asked for
Dryope, Iole pointed them to the new-formed lotus.
They embraced the trunk of the yet warm tree, and
showered their kisses on its leaves.
Now there was nothing left of Dryope but her face.
Her tears still flowed and fell on her leaves, and while
she could she spoke. "I am not guilty. I deserve not
this fate. I have injured no one. If I speak falsely,
may my foliage perish with drought and my trunk be
cut down and burned. Take this infant and give it to a
nurse. Let it often be brought and nursed under my
branches, and play in my shade; and when he is old
enough to talk, let him be taught to call me mother, and
to say with sadness, 'My mother lies hid under this bark.'
But bid him be careful of river banks, and beware how
he plucks flowers, remembering that every bush he sees
may be a goddess in disguise. Farewell, dear husband,
and sister, and father. If you retain any love for me,
let not the axe wound me, nor the flocks bite and tear
my branches. Since I cannot stoop to you, climb up
hither and kiss me; and while my lips continue to feel,
lift up my child that I may kiss him. I can speak no
more, for already the bark advances up my neck, and
will soon shoot over me. You need not close my eyes,
the bark will close them without your aid." Then the
lips ceased to move, and life was extinct; but the
branches retained for some time longer the vital heat.
Keats, in "Endymion," alludes to Dryope thus

"She took a lute from which there pulsing came
A lively prelude, fashioning the way
In which her voice should wander. 'T was a lay
More subtle-cadenced, more forest-wild
Than Dryope's lone lulling of her child;" etc.
VENUS AND ADONIS

Venus, playing one day with her boy Cupid, wounded
her bosom with one of his arrows. She pushed him
away, but the wound was deeper than she thought. Be-
fore it healed she beheld Adonis, and was captivated with
him. She no longer took any interest in her favor-
—
ite resorts Paphos, and Cnidos, and Amathos, rich in
metals. She absented herself even from heaven, for
Adonis was dearer to her than heaven. Him she
followed and bore him company. She who used to
love to recline in the shade, with no care but to culti-
vate her charms, now rambles through the woods and
over the hills, dressed like the huntress Diana; and calls
her dogs, and chases hares and stags, or other game
that it is safe to hunt, but keeps clear of the wolves and
bears, reeking with the slaughter of the herd. She
charged Adonis, too, to beware of such dangerous ani-
mals. "Be brave towards the timid," said she "courage
;
against the courageous is not safe. Beware how you

expose yourself to danger and put my happiness to risk.
Attack not the beasts that Nature -has armed with weap-
ons. I do not value your glory so high as to consent to
purchase it by such exposure. Your youth, and the
beauty that charms Venus, will not touch the hearts of
lions and bristly boars. Think of their terrible claws
and prodigious strength I hate the whole race of them.
!
Do you ask me why?" Then she told him the story of

Atalanta and Hippomenes, who were changed into lions
for their ingratitude to her.
Having given him this warning, she mounted her
chariot drawn by swans, and drove away through the
air. But Adonis was too noble to heed such counsels.
The dogs had roused a wild boar from his lair, and the
youth threw his spear and wounded the animal with a
sidelong stroke. The beast drew out the weapon with
his jaws, and rushed after Adonis, who turned and ran;
but the boar overtook him, and buried his tusks in his
side, and stretched him dying upon the plain.
Venus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet
reached Cyprus, when she heard coming up through mid-
air the groans of her beloved, and turned her white-
winged coursers back to earth. As she drew near and
saw from on high his lifeless body bathed in blood, she
alighted and, bending over it, beat her breast and tore
:
APOLLO AND HYACINTHUS 67
her hair. Reproaching the Fates, she said, "Yet theirs

shall be but a partial triumph; memorials of my
grief shall endure, and the spectacle of your death, my
Adonis, and of my lamentations shall be annually re-
newed. Your blood shall be changed into a flower; that
consolation none can envy me." Thus speaking, she
sprinkled nectar on the blood; and as they mingled,
bubbles rose as in a pool on which raindrops fall, and
in an hour's time there sprang up a flower of bloody hue
like that of the pomegranate. But it is short-lived. It
is said the wind blows the blossoms open, and after-
wards blows the petals away so it is called Anemone, or
;
Wind Flower, from the cause which assists equally in its

production and its decay.
Milton alludes to the story of Venus and Adonis in

his "Comus"
"Beds of hyacinth and roses
Where young Adonis oft reposes,
Waxing well of- his deep wound
In slumber soft, and on the ground
Sadly sits th' Assyrian queen;" etc.
APOLLO AND HYACINTHUS

Apollo was passionately fond of a youth named Hy-
acinthus. He accompanied him in his sports, carried
the nets when he went fishing, led the dogs when he
went to hunt, followed him in his excursions in the
mountains, and neglected for him his lyre and his ar-
rows. One day they played a game of quoits together,
and Apollo, heaving aloft the discus, with strength
mingled with skill, sent it high and far. Hyacinthus
watched it as it flew, and excited with the sport ran
forward to seize it, eager to make his throw, when the
quoit bounded from the earth and struck him in the
forehead. He fainted and fell. The god, as pale as
himself, raised him and tried all his art to stanch the
wound and retain the flitting life, but all in vain; the
hurt was past the power of medicine. As when one has
broken the stem of a lily in the garden it hangs its head
and turns flowers to the earth, so the head of the
its
dying boy, as too heavy for his neck, fell over on his
if
shoulder. "Thou diest, Hyacinth," so spoke Phoebus,
"robbed of thy youth by me. Thine is the suffering,
mine the crime. Would that I could die for thee But !
since that may not be, thou shalt live with me in memory
and in song. My
lyre shall celebrate thee, my song shall
tell thy fate, and thou shalt become a flower inscribed
with my regrets." While Apollo spoke, behold the
blood which had flowed on the ground and stained the
herbage ceased to be blood; but a flower of hue more
beautiful than the Tyrian sprang up, resembling the lily,
1
if it were not that this is purple and that silvery white.
And this was not enough for Phoebus; but to confer
still greater honor, he marked the petals with his sorrow,
and inscribed "Ah! ah!" upon them as we see to this

day. The flower bears the name of Hyacinthus, and
with every returning spring revives the memory of his
fate.
It said that Zephyrus (the West wind), who was

was
also fond of Hyacinthus and jealous of his preference
of Apollo, blew the quoit out of its course to make it
strike Hyacinthus. Keats alludes to this in his "Endym-
ion," where he describes the lookers-on at the game
of quoits:
"Or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent

Oneither side, pitying the sad death
Of Hyacinthus, when the cruel breath
Of Zephyr slew him; Zephyr penitent,
Who now ere Phcebus mounts the firmament,
Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain."
An allusion to Hyacinthus will also be recognized

in Milton's "Lycidas":
"Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe."
1 It is evidently not our modern hyacinth that is here described. It is

perhaps some species of iris, or perhaps of larkspur or of pansy.
CEYX AND HALCYONE 69
CHAPTER IX
CEYX AND HALCYONE: OR, THE HALCYON BIRDS
Ceyx was king of Thessaly, where he reigned in peace,

without violence or wrong. He was son of Hesperus,
the Day-star, and the glow of his beauty reminded one
of his father. Halcyone, the daughter of iEolus, was
his wife, and devotedly attached to him. Now Ceyx was
in deep affliction for the loss of his brother, and direful
prodigies following his brother's death made him feel as
if the gods were hostile to him. He thought best, there-
fore, to make a voyage to Carlos in Ionia, to consult the
oracle of Apollo. But as soon as he disclosed his inten-
tion to his wife Halcyone, a shudder ran through her
frame, and her face grew deadly pale. "What fault of
mine, dearest husband, has turned your affection from
me ? Where is that love of me that used to be uppermost
in your thoughts ? Have you learned to feel easy in the
absence of Halcyone? Would you rather have me
away?" She also endeavored to discourage him, by de-
scribing the violence of the winds, which she had known
familiarly when she lived at home in her father's
—
house, iEolus being the god of the winds, and having
as much as he could do to restrain them. "They rush
together," said she, "with such fury that fire flashes
from the conflict. But if you must go," she added,
"dear husband, let me go with you, otherwise I shall
suffer not only the real evils which you must encounter,
but those also which my fears suggest."
These words weighed heavily on the mind of King
Ceyx, and it was no less his own wish than hers to
take her with him, but he could not bear to expose her
to the dangers of the sea. He answered, therefore, con-
soling her as well as he could, and finished with these
words "I promise, by the rays of my father the Day-
:
permits I will return before the moon

star, that if fate
shall have twice rounded her orb." When he had thus
spoken, he ordered the vessel to be drawn out of the
shiphouse, and the oars and sails to be put aboard.

When Halcyone saw these preparations she shuddered,
as if with a presentiment of evil. With tears and sobs
she said farewell, and then fell senseless to the ground.
Ceyx would still have lingered, but now the young
men grasped their oars and pulled vigorously through
the waves, with long and measured strokes. Halcyone
raised her streaming eyes, and saw her husband stand-
ing on the deck, waving his hand to her. She answered
his signal till the vessel had receded so far that she
could no longer distinguish his form from the rest.
When the vessel itself could no more be seen, she
strained her eyes to catch the last glimmer of the sail,
till that too disappeared. Then, retiring to her chamber,
she threw herself on her solitary couch.
Meanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the
breeze plays among the ropes. The seamen draw in
their oars, and hoist their sails. When half or less of
their course was passed, as night drew on, the sea be-
gan to whiten with swelling waves, and the east wind
to blow a gale. The master gave the word to take in
sail, but the storm forbade obedience, for such is the
roar of the winds and waves his orders are unheard.
The men, of their own accord, busy themselves to se-
cure the oars, to strengthen the ship, to reef the sail.
While they thus do what to each one seems best, the
storm increases. The shouting of the men, the rattling
of the shrouds, and the dashing of the waves, mingle
with the roar of the thunder. The swelling sea seems
lifted up to the heavens, to scatter its foam among the
clouds; then sinking away to the bottom assumes the
color of the shoal —a Stygian blackness.
The vessel shares all these changes. It seems like
a wild beast that rushes on the spears of the hunters.
Rain falls in torrents, as if the skies were coming down
to unite with the sea. When the lightning ceases for
a moment, the night seems to add its own darkness to
that of the storm; then comes the flash, rending the
darkness asunder, and lighting up all with a glare. Skill
fails, courage sinks, and death seems to come on every
wave. The men are stupefied with terror. The thought
,
of parents, and kindred, and pledges left at home, comes

over their minds. Ceyx thinks of Halcyone. No name
but hers is on his lips, and while he yearns for her,
he yet rejoices in her absence. Presently the mast is
shattered by a stroke of lightning, the rudder broken,
and the triumphant surge curling over looks down upon
the wreck, then falls, and crushes it to fragments. Some
of the seamen, stunned by the stroke, sink, and rise no
more; others cling to fragments of the wreck. Ceyx,
with the hand that used to grasp the sceptre, holds fast
to a plank, calling for help, — —
alas, in vain, upon his
father and his father-in-law. But oftenest on his lips,
was the name of Halcyone. To her his thoughts cling.
He prays that the waves may bear his body to her sight,
and that it may receive burial at her hands. At length
the waters overwhelm him, and he sinks. The Day-
star looked dim that night. Since it could not leave
the heavens, it shrouded its face with clouds.
In the meanwhile Halcyone, ignorant of all these hor-
rors, counted the days till her husband's promised re-
turn. Now she gets ready the garments which he shall
put on, and now what she shall wear when he arrives.
To all the gods she offers frequent incense, but more
than all to Juno. For her husband, who was no more,
she prayed incessantly: that he might be safe; that he
might come home that he might not, in his absence,
;
see any one that he would love better than her. But
of all these prayers, the last was the only one destined
to be granted. The goddess, at length, could not bear
any longer to be pleaded with for one already dead,
and to have hands raised to her altars that ought rather
to be offering funeral rites. So, calling Iris, she said,
"Iris, my faithful messenger, go to the drowsy dwell-
ing of Somnus, and tell him to send a vision to Halcy-
one in the form of Ceyx, to make known to her the
event."
Iris puts on her robe of many colors, and tingeing
the sky with her bow, seeks the palace of the King of
Sleep. Near the Cimmerian country, a mountain cave
is the abode of the dull god Somnus. Here Phcebus
dares not come, either rising, at midday, or setting.
Clouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and

the light glimmers faintly. The bird of dawning, with
crested head, never there calls aloud to Aurora, nor
watchful dog, nor more sagacious goose disturbs the
silence. No wild beast, nor cattle, nor branch moved
with the wind, nor sound of human conversation, breaks
the stillness. Silence reigns there; but from the bottom
of the rock the River Lethe flows, and by its murmur
invites to sleep. Poppies grow abundantly before the
door of the cave, and other herbs, from whose juices
Night collects slumbers, which she scatters over the
darkened earth. There is no gate to the mansion, to
creak on its hinges, nor any watchman but in the midst
;
a couch of black ebony, adorned with black plumes and

black curtains. There the god reclines, his limbs re-
laxed with sleep. Around him lie dreams, resembling
all various forms, as many as the harvest bears stalks,
or the forest leaves, or the seashore sand grains.
As soon as the goddess entered and brushed away
the dreams that hovered around her, her brightness lit
up all the cave. The god, scarce opening his eyes, and
ever and anon dropping his beard upon his breast, at
last shook himself free from himself, and leaning on
—
his arm, inquired her errand, for he knew who she was.
She answered, "Somnus, gentlest of the gods, tranquil-
lizer of minds and soother of care-worn hearts, Juno
sends you her commands that you despatch a dream to
Halcyone, in the city of Trachine, representing her lost
husband and all the events of the wreck."
Having delivered her message, Iris hasted away, for
she could not longer endure the stagnant air, and as
she felt drowsiness creeping over her, she made her
escape, and returned by her bow the way she came.
Then Somnus called one of his numerous sons, Mor-—
—
pheus, the most expert in counterfeiting forms, and
in imitating the walk, the countenance, and mode of
speaking, even the clothes and attitudes most charac-
teristic of each. But he only imitates men, leaving it
to another to personate birds, beasts, and serpents. Him
they call Icelos and Phantasos is a third, who turns
;
himself into rocks, waters, woods, and other things with-

out life. These wait upon kings and great personages

in their sleeping hours, while others move among the
common people. Somnus chose, from all the brothers,
Morpheus, to perform the command of Iris; then laid
his head on his pillow and yielded himself to grateful
repose.
Morpheus flew, making no noise with his wings, and
soon came to the Haemonian city, where, laying aside his
wings, he assumed the form of Ceyx. Under that form,
but pale like a dead man, naked, he stood before the
couch of the wretched wife. His beard seemed soaked
with water, and water trickled from his drowned locks.
Leaning over the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, he
said, "Do you recognize your Ceyx, unhappy wife, or
has death too much changed my visage? Behold me,
know me, your husband's shade, instead of himself.
Your prayers, Halcyone, availed me nothing. I am
dead. No more deceive yourself with vain hopes of
my return. The stormy winds sunk my ship in the
Êgean Sea, waves filled my mouth while it called aloud
on you. No uncertain messenger tells you this, no vague
rumor brings it to your ears. I come in person, a
shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate. Arise! give me
tears, give me lamentations, let me not go down to Tar-
tarus unwept." To these words Morpheus added the
voice, which seemed to be that of her husband; he
seemed to pour forth genuine tears; his hands had the
gestures of Ceyx.
Halcyone, weeping, groaned, and stretched out her
arms in her sleep, striving to embrace his body, but
grasping only the air. "Stay!" she cried; "whither do
you fly? let us go together." Her own voice awakened
her. Starting up, she gazed eagerly around, to see if
he was still present, for the servants, alarmed by her
cries, had brought a light. When she found him not,
she smote her breast and rent her garments. She cares
not to unbind her hair, but tears it wildly. Her nurse
asks what is the cause of her grief. "Halcyone is no
more," she answers, "she perished with her Ceyx. Utter
not words of comfort, he is shipwrecked and dead. I
have seen him, I have recognized him. I stretched out
my hands to him and detain him. His shade van-

seize
ished, but it was the true shade of my husband. Not
with the accustomed features, not with the beauty that
was his, but pale, naked, and with his hair wet with
sea-water, he appeared to wretched me. Here, in this
—
very spot, the sad vision stood," and she looked to find
the mark of his footsteps. "This it was, this that my
presaging mind foreboded, when I implored him not to
leave me, to trust himself to the waves. Oh, how I
wish, since thou wouldst go, thou hadst taken me with
thee! It would have been far better. Then I should
have had no remnant of life to spend without thee, nor
a separate death to die. If I could bear to live and
struggle to endure, I should be more cruel to myself
than the sea has been to me. But I will not struggle, I
will not be separated from thee, unhappy husband. This
time, at least, I will keep thee company. In death, if
one tomb may not include us, one epitaph shall; if I
may not lay my ashes with thine, my name, at least,
shall not be separated." Her grief forbade more words,
and these were broken with tears and sobs.
It was now morning. She went to the seashore, and
sought the spot where she last saw him, on his departure.
"While he lingered here, and cast off his tacklings, he
gave me his last kiss." While she reviews every object,
and strives to recall every incident, looking out over the
sea, she descries an indistinct object floating in the water.
At first she was in doubt what it was, but by degrees the
waves bore it nearer, and it was plainly the body of a
man. Though unknowing of whom, yet, as it was of
some shipwrecked one, she was deeply moved, and gave
it her tears, saying, "Alas unhappy one, and unhappy,
!
if such there be, thy wife !" Borne by the waves, it

came nearer. As she more and more nearly views it,
she trembles more and more. Now, now it approaches
the shore. Now marks that she recognizes appear. It
is her husband! Stretching out her trembling hands
towards it, she exclaims, "O dearest husband, is it thus
you return to me?"
There was built out from the shore a mole, constructed
to break the assaults of the sea, and stem its violent
: :
ingress. She leaped upon this barrier and (it was won-
derful she could do so) she flew, and striking the air
with wings produced on the instant, skimmed along the
surface of the water, an unhappy bird. As she flew,
her throat poured forth sounds full of grief, and like
the voice of one lamenting. When she touched the mute
and bloodless body, she enfolded its beloved limbs with
her new-formed wings, and tried to give kisses with
her horny beak. Whether Ceyx felt it, or whether it
was only the action of the waves, those who looked on
doubted, but the body seemed to raise its head. But
indeed he did feel it, and by the pitying gods both of
them were changed into birds. They mate and have
theiryoung ones. For seven placid days, in winter
time,Halcyone broods over her nest, which floats upon
the sea. Then the way is safe to seamen. iEolus guards
the winds and keeps them from disturbing the deep.
The sea is given up, for the time, to his grandchildren.
The following lines from Byron's "Bride of Abydos"

might seem borrowed from the concluding part of this
description, if it were not stated that the author derived
the suggestion from observing the motion of a floating
corpse
"As shaken on his restless pillow,

His head heaves with the heaving billow,
That hand, whose motion is not life,
Yet feebly seems to menace strife,
Flung by the tossing tide on high,
Then levelled with the wave . .
."
Milton in his "Hymn on the Nativity/' thus alludes

to the fable of the Halcyon
"But peaceful was the night

Wherein the Prince of light
His reign of peace upon the earth began;
The winds with wonder whist
Smoothly the waters kist
Whispering new joys to the mild ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave
While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave."
:

Keats, also, in "Endymion," says
"O magic sleep ! O comfortable bird

That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind
Till it is hushed and smooth."
CHAPTER X
VERTUMNUS AND POMONA
The Hamadryads were Wood-nymphs. Pomona was
of this class, and no one excelled her in love of the
garden and the culture of fruit. She cared not for
forests and rivers, but loved the cultivated country, and
trees that bear delicious apples. Her right hand bore
for its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning-knife. Armed
with this, she busied herself at one time to repress the
too luxuriant growths, and curtail the branches that
straggled out of place at another, to split the twig and
;
insert therein a graft, making the branch adopt a nurs-

ling not its own. She took care, too, that her favorites
should not suffer from drought, and led streams
of water by them, that the thirsty roots might drink.
This occupation was her pursuit, her passion; and she
was free from that which Venus inspires. She was
not without fear of the country people, and kept her
orchard locked, and allowed not men to enter. The
Fauns and Satyrs would have given all they possessed to
win her, and so would old Sylvanus, who looks young
for his years, and Pan, who wears a garland of pine
leaves around his head. But Vertumnus loved her best
of all; yet he sped no better than the rest. how O
often, in the disguise of a reaper, did he bring her corn
in a basket, and looked the very image of a reaper!
With a hay band tied round him, one would think he
had just come from turning over the grass. Sometimes
he would have an ox-goad in his hand, and you would
have said he had just unyoked his weary oxen. Now
he bore a pruning-hook, and personated a vine-dresser;
—
VERTUMNUS AND POMONA 77
and again, with a ladder on his shoulder, he seemed

as if he was going to gather apples. Sometimes he
trudged along as a discharged soldier, and again he
bore a fishing-rod, as if going to fish. In this way he
gained admission to her again and again, and fed his
passion with the sight of her.
One day he came in the guise of an old woman, her
gray hair surmounted with a cap, and a staff in her
hand. She entered the garden and admired the fruit.
"It does you credit, my dear," she said, and kissed her,
not exactly with an old woman's kiss. She sat down
on a bank, and looked up at the branches laden with
fruit which hung over her. Opposite was an elm en-
twined with a vine loaded with swelling grapes. She
praised the tree and its associated vine, equally. "But,"
said she, "if the tree stood alone, and had no vine cling-
ing to it, it would have nothing to attract or offer us
but its useless leaves. And equally the vine, if it were
not twined round the elm, would lie prostrate on the
ground. Why will you not take a lesson from the tree
and the vine, and consent to unite yourself with some
one? I wish you would. Helen herself had not more
numerous suitors, nor Penelope, the wife of shrewd
Ulysses. Even while you spurn them, they court you,
rural deities and others of every kind that frequent
these mountains. But if you are prudent and want to
make a good alliance, and will let an old woman advise
—
you, who loves you better than you have any idea of,
— dismiss all the rest and accept Vertumnus, on my
recommendation. I know him as well as he knows him-
self. He is not a wandering deity, but belongs to these
mountains. Nor is he like too many of the lovers now-
adays, who love any one they happen to see; he loves
you, and you only. Add to this, he is young and hand-
some, and has the art of assuming any shape he pleases,
and can make himself just what you command him.
Moreover, he loves the same things that you do, de-
lights in gardening, and handles your apples with ad-
miration. But now he cares nothing for fruits nor
flowers, nor anything else, but only yourself. Take pity
on him, and fancy him speaking now with my mouth.
Remember that the gods punish cruelty, and that Venus
hates a hard heart, and will visit such offences sooner
or later. To prove this, let me tell you a story, which
is well known in Cyprus to be a fact ; and I hope it
will have the effect to make you more merciful.
"Iphis was a young man of humble parentage, who
saw and loved Anaxarete, a noble lady of the ancient
family of Teucer. He struggled long with his passion,
but when he found he could not subdue it, he came a
suppliant to her mansion. First he told his passion to
her nurse, and begged her as she loved her foster-child
to favor his suit. And then he tried to win her do-
mestics to his side. Sometimes he committed his vows
to written tablets, and often hung at her door garlands
which he had moistened with his tears. He stretched
himself on her threshold, and uttered his complaints to
the cruel bolts and bars. She was deafer than the
surges which rise in the November gale; harder than
steel from the German forges, or a rock that still clings
to its native cliff. She mocked and laughed at him,
adding cruel words to her ungentle treatment, and gave
not the slightest gleam of hope.
"Iphis could not any longer endure the torments of
hopeless love, and, standing before her doors, he spake
these last words 'Anaxarete, you have conquered, and
:
shall no longer have to bear my importunities. Enjoy

your triumph ! Sing songs of joy, and bind your fore-
heart, rejoice!
—
head with laurel, you have conquered! I die; stony
This at least I can do to gratify you
and force you to praise me; and thus shall I prove
that the love of you left me but with life. Nor will
I leave it to rumor to tell you of my death. I will
come myself, and you shall see me die, and feast your
eyes on the spectacle. Yet, O ye gods, who look down
on mortal woes, observe my fate! I ask but this: let
me be remembered in coming ages, and add those years
to my fame which you have reft from my life.' Thus
he said, and, turning his pale face and weeping eyes
towards her mansion, he fastened a rope to the gate-
post, on which he had often hung garlands, and putting
his head into the noose, he murmured, This garland at
VERTUMNUS AND POMONA 79
least will please you, cruel girl !'

and falling hung sus-
pended with his neck broken. As he fell he struck
against the gate, and the sound was as the sound of a
groan. The servants opened the door and found him
dead, and with exclamations of pity raised him and
carried him home to his mother, for his father was
not living. She received the dead body of her son, and
folded the cold form to her bosom, while she poured
forth the sad words which bereaved mothers utter. The
mournful funeral passed through the town, and the pale
corpse was borne on a bier to the place of the funeral
pile. By chance the home of Anaxarete was on the
street where the procession passed, and the lamentations
of the mourners met the ears of her whom the avenging
deity had already marked for punishment.
" 'Let us see this sad procession,' said she, and
mounted to a turret, whence through an open window
she looked upon the funeral. Scarce had her eyes rested
upon the form of Iphis stretched on the bier, when
they began to stiffen, and the warm blood in her body
to become cold. Endeavoring to step back, she found
she could not move her feet; trying to turn away her
face, she tried in vain ; and by degrees all her limbs
became stony like her heart. That you may not doubt
the fact, the statue still remains, and stands in the
temple of Venus at Salamis, in the exact form of the
lady. Now think of these things, my dear, and lay
aside your scorn and your delays, and accept a lover.
So may neither the vernal frosts blight your young
!"
fruits, nor furious winds scatter your blossoms
When Vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the
disguise of an old woman, and stood before her in his
proper person, as a comely youth. It appeared to her
like the sun bursting through a cloud. He would have
renewed his entreaties, but there was no need his argu- ;
ments and the sight of his true form prevailed, and

the Nymph no longer resisted, but owned a mutual
flame.
Pomona was the especial patroness of the Apple-

orchard, and as such she was invoked by Phillips, the
author of a poem on Cider, in blank verse. Thomson
in the "Seasons'' alludes to him:
Pomona's bard, the second thou

"Phillips,
Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse,
With British freedom, sing the British song."
But Pomona was also regarded as presiding over

other fruits, and as such is invoked by Thomson:
"Bear me, Pomona, to thy citron groves,

To where the lemon and the piercing lime,
With the deep orange, glowing through the green,
Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined
Beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes,
Fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit.'*
CHAPTER XI
CUPID AND PSYCHE
A certain king and queen had three daughters. The

charms of the two elder were more than common, but
the beauty of the youngest was so wonderful that the
poverty of language is unable to express its due praise.
The fame of her beauty was so great that strangers
from neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy
the sight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her
that homage which is due only to Venus herself. In I
fact Venus found her altars deserted, while men turned

their devotion to this young virgin. As she passed
along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way
with chaplets and flowers.
This perversion of homage due only to the immortal
powers to the exaltation of a mortal gave great offence
to the real Venus. Shaking her ambrosial locks with
indignation, she exclaimed, "Am
I then to be eclipsed
in my honors by a mortal girl?
In vain then did that
royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jove
himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious
;
CUPID AND PSYCHE 81
rivals, Pallas and Juno. But she shall not so quietly

usurp my honors. I will give her cause to repent of so
unlawful a beauty."
Thereupon she calls her winged son Cupid, mischiev-
ous enough in his own nature, and rouses and provokes
him yet more by her complaints. She points out Psyche
to him and says, "My dear son, punish that contumacious
beauty; give thy mother a revenge as sweet as her in-
juries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty
girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so
that she may reap a mortification as great as her present
exultation and triumph."
Cupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother.
There are two fountains in Venus's garden, one of
sweet waters, the other of bitter. Cupid filled two am-
ber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them
from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber
of Psyche, whom he found asleep. He shed a few
drops from the bitter fountain over her lips, though the
sight of her almost moved him to pity; then touched
her side with the point of his arrow. At the touch
she awoke, and opened eyes upon Cupid (himself in-
visible), which so startled him that in his confusion
he wounded himself with his own arrow. Heedless of
his wound, his whole thought now was to repair the
mischief he had done, and he poured the balmy drops
of joy over all her silken ringlets.
Psyche, henceforth frowned upon by Venus, derived
no benefit from all her charms. True, all eyes were
cast eagerly upon her, and every mouth spoke her praises
but neither king, royal youth, nor plebeian presented
himself to demand her in marriage. Her two elder
sisters of moderate charms had now long been married
to two royal princes but Psyche, in her lonely apart-
;
ment, deplored her solitude, sick of that beauty which,

while it procured abundance of flattery, had failed to
awaken love.
Her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred
the anger of the gods, consulted the oracle of Apollo,
and received this answer: "The virgin is destined for
the bride of no mortal lover. Her future husband awaits
her on the top of the mountain. He is a monster whom
neither gods nor men can resist."
This dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people
with dismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to
grief. But Psyche said, "Why, my dear parents, do
you now lament me? You should rather have grieved
when the people showered upon me undeserved honors,
and with one voice called me a Venus. I now perceive
that I am a victim to that name. I submit. Lead me
to that rock to which myunhappy fate has destined me."
Accordingly, all things being prepared, the royal maid
took her place in the procession, which more resembled
a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents,
amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the moun-
tain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and
with sorrowful hearts returned home.
While Psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain,
panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle
Zephyr raised her from the earth and bore her with an
easy motion into a flowery dale. By degrees her mind
became composed, and she laid herself down on the
grassy bank to sleep. When she awoke refreshed with
sleep, she looked round and beheld near by a pleasant
grove of tall and stately trees. She entered it, and in
the midst discovered a fountain, sending forth clear and
crystal waters, and fast by, a magnificent palace whose
august front impressed the spectator that it was not the
work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some
god. Drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached
the building and ventured to enter. Every object she
met filled her with pleasure and amazement. Golden
pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were
enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts
of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the
eye of the beholder. Proceeding onward, she perceived
that besides the apartments of state there were others
filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and
precious productions of nature and art.
While her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed
her, though she saw no one, uttering these words "Sov-
:
ereign lady, all that you see is yours. We whose voices

CUPID AND PSYCHE 83
you hear are your servants and shall obey all your com-
mands with our utmost care and diligence. Retire,
therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of
down, and when you see fit repair to the bath. Supper
awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you
to take your seat there."
Psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal at-
tendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the
bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table imme-
diately presented itself, without any visible aid from
waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest deli-
cacies of food and the most nectareous wines. Her ears
too were feasted with music from invisible performers;
of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all
closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus.
She had not yet seen her destined husband. He came
only in the hours of darkness and fled before the dawn
of morning, but his accents were full of love, and in-
spired a like passion in her. She often begged him to
stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent.
On the contrary he charged her to make no attempt
to see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of rea-
sons, to keep concealed. "Why should you wish to
behold me?" he said; "have you any doubt of my love?
have you any wish ungratified? If you saw me, per-
haps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all I
ask of you is to love me. I would rather you would
love me as an equal than adore me as a god."
This reasoning somewhat quieted Psyche for a time,
and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy. But
at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance
of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing
with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her
mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a
splendid prison. When her husband came one night,
she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an
unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to
see her.
So, calling Zephyr, she acquainted him with her hus-
band's commands, and he, promptly obedient, soon
brought them across the mountain down to their sis-
;

ter's valley. They embraced her and she returned their
caresses. "Come," said Psyche, "enter with me my
house and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister
has to offer." Then taking their hands she led them
into her golden palace, and committed them to the care
of her numerous train of attendant voices, to refresh
them in her baths and at her table, and to show them
all her treasures. The view of these celestial delights
caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their young
sister possessed of such state and splendor, so much
exceeding their own.
They asked her numberless questions, among others
what sort of a person her husband was. Psyche replied
that he was a beautiful youth, who generally spent the
daytime in hunting upon the mountains. The sisters,
not satisfied with this reply, soon made her confess that
she had never seen him. Then they proceeded to fill her
bosom with dark suspicions. "Call to mind," they said,
"the Pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry
a direful and tremendous monster. The inhabitants of
this valley say that your husband is a terrible and mon-
strous serpent, who nourishes you for a while with
dainties that he may by and by devour you. Take our
advice. Provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife
put them in concealment that your husband may not
discover them, and when he is sound asleep, slip out of
bed, bring forth your lamp, and see for yourself whether
what they say is true or not. If it is, hesitate not to
cut off the monster's head, and thereby recover your
liberty."
Psyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could,
but they did not fail to have their effect on her mind, and
when her sisters were gone, their words and her own
curiosity were too strong for her to resist. So she
prepared her lamp and a sharp knife, and hid them out
of sight of her husband. When he had fallen into his
first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her lamp be-
held not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and
charming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering
over his snowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy
wings on his shoulders, whiter than snow, and with
CUPID AND PSYCHE 85
shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring. As

she leaned the lamp over to have a nearer view of his
face a drop of burning oil fell on the shoulder of the
god, startled with which he opened his eyes and fixed
them full upon her; then, without saying one word, he
spread his white wings and flew out of the window.
Psyche, in vain endeavoring to follow him, fell from
the window to the ground. Cupid, beholding her as she
lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant and
said, "O foolish Psyche, is it thus you repay my love?
After having disobeyed my mother's commands and
made you my wife, will you think me a monster and
cut off my head ? But go return to your sisters, whose
;
advice you seem to think preferable to mine. I inflict

no other punishment on you than to leave you forever.
Love cannot dwell with suspicion." So saying, he fled
away, leaving poor Psyche prostrate on the ground, fill-
ing the place with mournful lamentations.
When she had recovered some degree of composure
she looked around her, but the palace and gardens had
vanished, and she found herself in the open field not
far from the city where her sisters dwelt. She repaired
thither and told them the whole story of her misfor-
tunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spiteful
creatures inwardly rejoiced. "For now," said they, "he
will perhaps choose one of us." With this idea, with-
out saying a word of her intentions, each of them rose
early the next morning and ascended the mountains, and
having reached the top, called upon Zephyr to receive
her and bear her to his lord; then leaping up, and not
being sustained by Zephyr, fell down the precipice and
was dashed to pieces.
Psyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without
food or repose, in search of her husband. Casting her
eyes on a lofty mountain having on its brow a mag-
nificent temple, she sighed and said to herself, "Per-
haps my love, my lord, inhabits there," and directed her
steps thither.
She had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of
corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, with
mingled ears of barley. Scattered about, lay sickles and
rakes, and all the instruments of harvest, without order,

as if thrown carelessly out of the weary reapers' hands
in the sultry hours of the day.
This unseemly confusion the pious Psyche put an end
to, by separating and sorting everything to its proper
place and kind, believing that she ought to neglect none
of the gods, but endeavor by her piety to engage them
all in her behalf. The holy Ceres, whose temple it was,
rinding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her:
"O Psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though I cannot
shield you from the frowns of Venus, yet I can teach
you how best to allay her displeasure. Go, then, and
voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sov-
ereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her
forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the
husband you have lost."
Psyche obeyed the commands of Ceres and took her
way to the temple of Venus, endeavoring to fortify her
mind and ruminating on what she should say and how
best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling that the issue
was doubtful and perhaps fatal.
Venus received her with angry countenance. "Most
undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you
at last remember that you really have a mistress? Or
have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet laid
up of the wound given him by his loving wife? You are
so ill-favored and disagreeable that the only way you
can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and
diligence. I will make trial of your housewifery." Then
she ordered Psyche to be led to the storehouse of her
temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat,
barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for
food for her pigeons, and said, "Take and separate all
these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel
by themselves, and see that you get it done before even-
ing." Then Venus departed and left her to her task.
But Psyche, in a perfect consternation at the enor-
mous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a fin-
ger to the inextricable heap.
While she sat despairing, Cupid stirred up the little
ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her.
CUPID AND PSYCHE 87
The leader of the ant hill, followed by whole hosts of

his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with
the utmost diligence, taking grain by grain, they sep-
arated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and
when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a
moment.
Venus at the approach of twilight returned from the
banquet of the gods, breathing odors and crowned with
roses. Seeing the task done, she exclaimed, "This is
no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your
own and his misfortune you have enticed." So saying,
she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and
went away.
Next morning Venus ordered Psyche to be called
and said to her, "Behold yonder grove which stretches
along the margin of the water. There you will find
sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining
fleeces on their backs. Go, fetch me a sample of that
"
precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces.
Psyche obediently went to the riverside, prepared to
do her best to execute the command. But the river god
inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which
seemed to say, "O maiden, severely tried, tempt not the
dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable
rams on the other side, for as long as they are under
the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel
rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude
teeth. But when the noontide sun has driven the cattle
to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled
them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will
find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the
trunks of the trees."
Thus the compassionate river god gave Psyche in-
structions how to accomplish her task, and by observ-
ing his directions she soon returned to Venus with her
arms full of the golden fleece; but she received not
the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said,
"I know very well it is by none of your own doings
that you have succeeded in this task, and I am not
satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make your-
self useful. But I have another task for you. Here,
take this box and go your way to the infernal shades,

and give this box to Proserpine and say, 'My mistress
Venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty,
for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her
own/ Be not too long on your errand, for I must paint
myself with it to appear at the circle of the gods and
goddesses this evening."
Psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at
hand, being obliged to go with her own feet directly
down to Erebus. Wherefore, to make no delay of what
was not to be avoided, she goes to the top of a high
tower to precipitate herself headlong, thus to descend
the shortest way to the shades below. But a voice from
the tower said to her, "Why, poor unlucky girl, dost
thou design to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a
manner? And what cowardice makes thee sink under
this last danger who hast been so miraculously sup-
ported in all thy former?" Then the voice told her how
by a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto,
and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass
by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on
Charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river
and bring her back again. But the voice added, "When
Proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty,
of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that
you never once open or look into the box nor allow your
curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the
goddesses."
Psyche, encouraged by this advice, obeyed it in all
things, and taking heed to her ways travelled safely to
the kingdom of Pluto. She was admitted to the palace
of Proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat
or delicious banquet that was offered her, but contented
with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her mes-
sage from Venus. Presently the box was returned to
her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. Then
she returned the way she came, and glad was she to
come out once more into the light of day.
But having got so far successfully through her dan-
gerous task, a longing desire seized her to examine the
contents of the box. "What," said she, "shall I, the
CUPID AND PSYCHE 89
carrier of this divine beauty, not take the least bit to

put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage in the
eyes of my beloved husband !" So she carefully opened
the box, but found nothing there of any beauty at all,
but an infernal and truly Stygian sleep, which being
thus set free from its prison, took possession of her,
and she fell down in the midst of the road, a sleepy
corpse without sense or motion.
But Cupid, being now recovered from his wound, and
not able longer to bear the absence of his beloved
Psyche, slipping through the smallest crack of the win-
dow of his chamber which happened to be left open,
flew to the spot where Psyche lay, and gathering up the
sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and
waked Psyche with a light touch of one of his arrows.
"Again," said he, "hast thou almost perished by the
same curiosity. But now perform exactly the task im-
posed on you by my mother, and I will take care of the
rest."
Then Cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the
heights of heaven, presented himself before Jupiter with
his supplication. Jupiter lent a favoring ear, and plead-
ed the cause of the lovers so earnestly with Venus that
he won her consent. On this he sent Mercury to bring
Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she ar-
rived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, "Drink
this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever
break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these
nuptials shall be perpetual."
Thus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in
due time they had a daughter born to them whose name
was Pleasure.
The fable of Cupid and Psyche is usually considered

allegorical. The Greek name for a butterflyis Psyche,
and the same word means the soul. There is no illus-
tration of the immortality of the soul so striking and
beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings
from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovel-
ling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day
and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions
: — ; —
! ; ! —
of the spring. Psyche, then, is the human soul, whiclf

is by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus
purified
prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happi-
ness.
In works of art Psyche is represented as a maiden
with the wings of a butterfly, along with Cupid, in the
different situations described in the allegory.
Milton alludes to the story of Cupid and Psyche in
the conclusion of his "Comus"
"Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced,
Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced,
After her wandering labors long,
Till free consent the gods among
Make her his eternal bride;
And from her fair unspotted side
Two blissful twins are to be born,
Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn."
The allegory of the story of Cupid and Psyche is well

presented in the beautiful lines of T. K. Harvey:
"They wove bright fables in the days of old,

When reason borrowed fancy's painted wings
When truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold,
And told in song its high and mystic things
And such the sweet and solemn
tale of her
The pilgrim heart, to whom
a dream was given.
—
That led her through the world, Love's worshipper,
To seek on earth for him whose home was heaven
"In the full city, —
by the haunted fount,
Through the dim grotto's tracery of spars,
'Mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount,
Where silence sits to listen to the stars;
In the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove,
The painted valley, and the scented air,
She heard far echoes of the voice of Love,
And found his footsteps' traces everywhere.
"But nevermore they met! since doubts and fears,
Those phantom shapes that haunt and blight the earth,
Had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears,
And that bright spirit of immortal birth;
Until her pining soul and weeping eyes
Had learned to seek him only in the skies
wings unto the weary heart were given,
Till
And she became Love's angel bride in heaven!"
— —
CADMUS 91
The story of Cupid and Psyche first appears in the

works of Apuleius, a writer of the second century of
our era. It is therefore of much more recent date than
most of the legends of the Age of Fable. It is this
that Keats alludes to in his "Ode to Psyche" :
"O born and loveliest vision far

latest
Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy!
Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-regioned star
Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;
Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,
Nor altar heaped with flowers;
Nor virgin choir to make delicious moan
Upon the midnight hours;
No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet,
From chain-swung censor teeming;
No shrine, no grove, no
oracle, no heat
Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming."
In Moore's "Summer Fete" a fancy ball is described,

in which one of the characters personated is Psyche
"... not in dark disguise to-night
Hath our young heroine veiled her light;
For see, she walks the earth, Love's own.
His wedded bride, by holiest vow
Pledged in Olympus, and made known
To mortals by the type which now
Hangs glittering on her snowy brow.
That butterfly, mysterious trinket,
Which means the soul, (though few would think it,)
And sparkling thus on brow so white
Tells us we've Psyche here to-night."
CHAPTER XII
CADMUS —THE MYRMIDONS
Jupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried

away Europa, the daughter of Agenor, king of Phoe-
nicia. Agenor commanded his son Cadmus to go in
search of his sister, and not to return without her.
Cadmus went and sought long and far for his sister,
but could not find her, and not daring to return un-
successful, consulted the oracle of Apollo to know
what country he should settle in. The oracle informed
him that he should find a cow in the field, and should
follow her wherever she might wander, and where she
stopped, should build a city and call it Thebes. Cad-
mus had hardly left the Castalian cave, from which
the oracle was delivered, when he saw a young cow
slowly walking before him. He followed her close, of-
fering at the same time his prayers to Phoebus. The
cow went on till she passed the shallow channel of
Cephisus and came out into the plain of Panope. There
she stood still, and raising her broad forehead to the
sky, filled the air with her lowings. Cadmus gave
thanks, and stooping down kissed the foreign soil, then
lifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding mountains.
Wishing to offer a sacrifice to Jupiter, he sent his serv-
ants to seek pure water for a libation. Near by there
stood an ancient grove which had never been profaned
by the axe, in the midst of which was a cave, thick cov-
ered with the growth of bushes, its roof forming a low
arch, from beneath which burst forth a fountain of
purest water. In the cave lurked a horrid serpent with
a crested head and scales glittering like gold. His eyes
shone like fire, his body was swollen with venom, he
vibrated a triple tongue, and showed a triple row of
teeth. No sooner had the Tyrians dipped their pitchers
in the fountain, and the in-gushing waters made a sound^
than the glittering serpent raised his head out of the
cave and uttered a fearful hiss. The vessels fell from
their hands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembled
in every limb. The serpent, twisting his scaly body
in a huge coil, raised his head so as to overtop the tall-
est trees, and while the Tyrians from terror could
neither fight nor fly, slew some with his fangs, others
in his folds, and others with his poisonous breath.
Cadmus, having waited for the return of his men
till midday, went in search of them. His covering was
a lion's hide, and besides his javelin he carried in his
hand a lance, and in his breast a bold heart, a surer
reliance than either. When he entered the wood, and
CADMUS 93
saw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with
his bloody jaws, he exclaimed, "O faithful friends, I
will avenge you, or share your death." So saying he
lifted a huge stone and threw it with all his force at
the serpent. Such a block would have shaken the wall
of a fortress, but it made no impression on the monster.
Cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with better
success, for it penetrated the serpent's scales, and pierced
through to his entrails. Fierce with pain, the monster
turned back his head to view the wound, and attempted
to draw out the weapon with his mouth, but broke it off,
leaving the iron point rankling in his flesh. His neck
swelled with rage, bloody foam covered his jaws, and
the breath of his nostrils poisoned the air around. Now
he twisted himself into a circle, then stretched himself
out on the ground like the trunk of a fallen tree. As
he moved onward, Cadmus retreated before him, hold-
ing his spear opposite to the monster's opened jaws.
The serpent snapped at the weapon and attempted to
bite its iron point. At last Cadmus, watching his chance,
thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's head
thrown back came against the trunk of a tree, and so
succeeded in pinning him to its side. His weight bent
the tree as he struggled in the agonies of death.
While Cadmus stood over his conquered foe, contem-
plating its vast size, a voice was heard (from whence
he knew not, but he heard it distinctly) commanding
him to take the dragon's teeth and sow them in the
earth. He obeyed. He made a furrow in the ground,
and planted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of
men. Scarce had he done so when the clods began to
move, and the points of spears to appear above the sur-
face. Next helmets with their nodding plumes came
up, and next the shoulders and breasts and limbs of men
with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors.
Cadmus, alarmed, prepared to encounter a new enemy,
but one of them said to him, "Meddle not with our
civil war." With that he who had spoken smote one
of his earth-born brothers with a sword, and he himself
fell pierced with an arrow from another. The latter
fell victim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole
:
crowd dealt with each other till all fell, slain with mu-
tual wounds, except five survivors. One of these cast
away his weapons and said, "Brothers, let us live in
peace!" These five joined with Cadmus in building his
city, to which they gave the name of Thebes.
Cadmus obtained in marriage Harmonia, the daughter
of Venus. The gods left Olympus to honor the occa-
sion with their presence, and Vulcan presented the bride
with a necklace of surpassing brilliancy, his own work-
manship. But a fatality hung over the family of Cad-
mus in consequence of his killing the serpent sacred to
Mars. Semele and Ino, his daughters, and Actseon and
Pentheus, his grandchildren, all perished unhappily, and
Cadmus and Harmonia quitted Thebes, now grown
odious to them, and emigrated to the country of the
Enchelians, who received them with honor and made
Cadmus their king. But the misfortunes of their chil-
dren still weighed upon their minds; and one day Cad-
mus exclaimed, "If a serpent's life is so dear to the
gods, I would I were myself a serpent." No sooner
had he uttered the words than he began to change his
form. Harmonia beheld it and prayed to the gods to
let her share his fate. Both became serpents. They
live in the woods, but mindful of their origin, they neither
avoid the presence of man nor do they ever injure any
one.
There is a tradition that Cadmus introduced into

Greece the letters of the alphabet which were invented
by the Phoenicians. This is alluded to by Byron, where,
addressing the modern Greeks, he says:
"You have the letters Cadmus gave,

Think you he meant them for a slave ?"
Milton, describing the serpent which tempted Eve,

is reminded of the serpents of the classical stories and
says
.
And
. .
"
lovely
—pleasing
:
was his shape,
never since of serpent kind
Lovelier; not those that in Illyria changed
Hermione and Cadmus, nor the god
In Epidaurus."
THE MYRMIDONS 95
For an explanation of the last allusion, see Oracle

of iEsculapius, p. 298.
THE MYRMIDONS
The Myrmidons were the soldiers of Achilles, in the
Trojan war. From them all zealous and unscrupulous
followers of a political chief are called by that name,
down to this day. But the origin of the Myrmidons
would not give one the idea of a fierce and bloody race,
but rather of a laborious and peaceful one.
Cephalus, king of Athens, arrived in the island of
^gina to seek assistance of his old friend and ally
iEacus, the kirg, in his war with Minos, king of Crete.
Cephalus was most kindly received, and the desired as-
sistance readily promised. "I have people enough," said
Êacus, "to protect myself and spare you such a force
as you need." "I rejoice to see it," replied Cephalus,
"and my wonder has been raised, I confess, to find
such a host of youths as I see around me, all apparently
of about the same age. Yet there are many individuals
whom I previously knew, that I look for now in vain.
What has become of them?" iEacus groaned, and re-
plied with a voice of sadness, "I have been intending
to tell you, and will now do so, without more delay,
that you may see how from the saddest beginning a
happy result sometimes flows. Those whom you for-
merly knew are now dust and ashes ! A plague sent
by angry Juno devastated the land. She hated it be-
cause it bore the name of one of her husband's female
favorites. While the disease appeared to spring from
natural causes we resisted it, as we best might, by nat-
ural remedies; but it soon appeared that the pestilence
was too powerful for our efforts, and we yielded. At
the beginning the sky seemed to settle down upon the
earth, and thick clouds shut in the heated air. For four
months together a deadly south wind prevailed. The
disorder affected the wells and springs; thousands of
snakes crept over the land and shed their poison in
the fountains. The force of the disease was first spent
—
on the lower animals dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds.
The luckless ploughman wondered to see his oxen fall
in the midst of their work, and lie helpless in the un-
finished furrow. The wool fell from the bleating sheep,
and their bodies pined away. The horse, once foremost
in the race, contested the palm no more, but groaned
at his stall and died an inglorious death. The wild
boar forgot his rage, the stag his swiftness, the bears
no longer attacked the herds. Everything languished;
dead bodies lay in the roads, the fields, and the woods;
the air was poisoned by them. I tell you what is hardly
credible, but neither dogs nor birds would touch them,
nor starving wolves. Their decay spread the infection.
Next the disease attacked the country people, and then
the dwellers in the city. At first the cheek was flushed,
and the breath drawn with difficulty. The tongue grew
rough and swelled, and the dry mouth stood open with
its veins enlarged and gasped for the air. Men could
not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, but
preferred to lie on the bare ground; and the ground
did not cool them, but, on the contrary, they heated the
spot where they lay. Nor could the physicians help,
for the disease attacked them also, and the contact of
the sick gave them infection, so that the most faithful
were the first victims. At last all hope of relief van-
ished, and men learned to look upon death as the only
deliverer from disease. Then they gave way to every
inclination, and cared not to ask what was expedient,
for nothing was expedient. All restraint laid aside, they
crowded around the wells and fountains and drank till
they died, without quenching thirst. Many had not
strength to get away from the water, but died in the
midst of the stream, and others would drink of it not-
withstanding. Such was their weariness of their sick
beds that some would creep forth, and if not strong
enough to stand, would die on the ground. They
seemed to hate their friends, and got away from their
homes, as if, not knowing the cause of their sickness,
they charged it on the place of their abode. Some were
seen tottering along the road, as long as they could stand,
while others sank on the earth, and turned their dying
eyes around to take a last look, then closed them in
death.
THE MYRMIDONS 97
"What heart had I left me, during all this, or what

ought I to have had, except to hate life and wish to
be with my dead subjects? On all sides lay my people
strewn like over-ripened apples beneath the tree, or
acorns under the storm-shaken oak. You see yonder
a temple on the height. It is sacred to Jupiter. O how
many offered prayers there, husbands for wives, fathers
for sons, and died in the very act of supplication How !
often, while the priest made ready for sacrifice, the vic-
tim fell, struck down by disease without waiting for
the blow At length all reverence for sacred things was
!
lost. Bodies were thrown out unburied, wood was

wanting for funeral piles, men fought with one another
for the possession of them. Finally there were none left
to mourn; sons and husbands, old men and youths, per-
ished alike unlamented.
"Standing before the altar I raised my eyes to heaven.
'O Jupiter/ I said, 'if thou art indeed my father, and
art not ashamed of thy offspring, give me back my
people, or take me also away!' At these words a clap
of thunder was heard. 'I accept the omen/ I cried;
'O may it be a sign of a favorable disposition towards

me!' By chance there grew by the place where I stood
an oak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to Jupiter.
I observed a troop of ants busy with their labor, carry-
ing minute grains in their mouths and following one
another in a line up the trunk of the tree. Observing
their numbers with admiration, I said, 'Give me, O
father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish my
empty city.' The shook and gave a rustling sound
tree
with its branches, though no wind agitated them. I
trembled in every limb, yet I kissed the earth and the
tree. would not confess to myself that I hoped, yet
I
I did hope. Night came on and sleep took possession
of my frame oppressed with cares. The tree stood be-
fore me in my dreams, with its numerous branches all
covered with living, moving creatures. It seemed to
shake its limbs and throw down over the ground a mul-
titude of those industrious grain-gathering animals,
which appeared to gain in size, and grow larger and
larger, and by and by to stand erect, lay aside their
—

superfluous legs and their black color, and finally to
assume the human form. Then I awoke, and my first
impulse was to chide the gods who had robbed me of
a sweet vision and given me no reality in its place.
Being still in the temple, my attention was caught by
the sound of many voices without; a sound of late un-
usual to my ears. While I began to think I was yet
dreaming, Telamon, my son, throwing open the temple
gates, exclaimed: 'Father, approach, and behold things
surpassing even your hopes !' I went forth I saw a
;
multitude of men, such as I had seen in my dream, and

they were passing in procession in the same manner.
While I gazed with wonder and delight they approached
and kneeling hailed me as their king. I paid my vows
to Jove, and proceeded to allot the vacant city to the
new-born race, and to parcel out the fields among them.
I called them Myrmidons, from the ant (myrmex) from
which they sprang. You have seen these persons; their
dispositions resemble those which they had in their for-'
mer shape. They are a diligent and industrious race,
eager to gain, and tenacious of their gains. Among
them you may recruit your forces. They will follow
you to the war, young in years and bold in heart."
This description of the plague is copied by Ovid from
the account which Thucydides, the Greek historian, gives
of the plague of Athens. The historian drew from
life, and all the poets and writers of fiction since his
day, when they have had occasion to describe a simi-
lar scene, have borrowed their details from him,.
CHAPTER XIII
NISUS AND SCYLLA —ECHO AND NARCISSUS —CLYTIE

HERO AND LEANDER
NISUS AND SCYLLA

Minos, king of Crete, made war upon Megara. Nisus
was king of Megara, and Scylla was his daughter. The
NISUS AND SCYLLA 99
siege had now lasted six months and the city still held
out, for it was decreed by fate that it should not be
taken so long as a certain purple lock, which glittered
among the hair of King Nisus, remained on his head.
There was a tower on the city walls, which overlooked
the plain where Minos and his army were encamped.
To this tower Scylla used to repair, and look abroad
over the tents of the hostile army. The siege had lasted
so long that she had learned to distinguish the persons
of the leaders. Minos, in particular, excited her ad-
miration. Arrayed in his helmet, and bearing his shield,
she admired his graceful deportment; if he threw his
javelin skill seemed combined with force in the dis-
charge; if he drew his bow Apollo himself could not
have done it more gracefully. But when he laid aside
his helmet, and in his purple robes bestrode his white
horse with its gay caparisons, and reined in its foam-
ing mouth, the daughter of Nisus was hardly mistress
of herself ; she was almost frantic with admiration.
She envied the weapon that he grasped, the reins that
he held. She felt as if she could, if it were possible,
go to him through the hostile ranks she felt an im-
;
pulse to cast herself down from the tower into the midst
of his camp, or to open the gates to him, or to do any-
thing else, so only it might gratify Minos. As she sat
in the tower, she talked thus with herself : "I know
not whether to rejoice or grieve at this sad war. I
grieve that Minos is our enemy; but I rejoice at any
cause that brings him to my sight. Perhaps he would
be willing to grant us peace, and receive me as a
hostage. I would fly down, if I could, and alight in
his camp, and tell him that we yield ourselves to his
mercy. But then, to betray my father! No! rather
would I never see Minos again. And yet no doubt it
is sometimes the best thing for a city to be conquered,
when the conqueror is clement and generous. Minos
certainly has right on his side. I think we shall be
conquered; and if that must be the end of it, why
should not love unbar the gates to him, instead of
leaving it to be done by war? Better spare delay and
slaughter if we can. And O if any one should wound
or kill Minos ! No one surely would have the heart
to do it; yet ignorantly, not knowing him, one might.
I will, I will surrender myself to him, with coun- my
try as a dowry, and so put an end to the war. But
how? The gates are guarded, and my father keeps
the keys; he only stands in my way. O
that it might
please the gods to take him away! But why ask the
gods to do it? Another woman, loving as I do, would
remove with her own hands whatever stood in the way
of her love. And can any other woman dare more
than I? I would encounter fire and sword to gain
my object; but here there is no need of fire and sword.
I only need my father's purple lock. More precious
than gold to me, that will give me all I wish."
While she thus reasoned night came on, and soon
the whole palace was buried in sleep. She entered
her father's bedchamber and cut off the fatal lock;
then passed out of the city and entered the enemy's
camp. She demanded to be led to the king, and thus
addressed him: "I am Scylla, the daughter of Nisus.
I surrender to you my country and my father's house.
I ask no reward but yourself for love of you I have
;
done it. See here the purple lock! With this I give
you my father and his kingdom." She held out her
hand with the fatal spoil. Minos shrunk back and re-
fused to touch it. "The gods destroy thee, infamous
woman," he exclaimed; "disgrace of our time! May
neither earth nor sea yield thee a resting-place Surely,
!
my Crete, where Jove himself was cradled, shall not

be polluted with such a monster!" Thus he said, and
gave orders that equitable terms should be allowed to
the conquered city, and that the fleet should immediately
sail from the island.
Scylla was frantic. "Ungrateful man," she exclaimed,
"is it thus you leave me? —
me who have given you
victory, —
who have sacrificed for you parent and coun-
try! I am guilty, I confess, and deserve to die, but
not by your hand." As the ships left the shore, she
leaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the
one which carried Minos, she was borne along an un-
welcome companion of their course. A
sea-eagle soar-
—
ECHO AND NARCISSUS 101
—
ing aloft, it was her father who had been changed
into that form, —
seeing her, pounced down upon her,
and struck her with his beak and claws. In terror
she let go the ship and would have fallen into the
water, but some pitying deity changed her into a bird.
The sea-eagle still cherishes the old animosity; and
whenever he espies her in his lofty flight you may see
him dart down upon her, with beak and claws, to take
vengeance for the ancient crime.
ECHO AND NARCISSUS

Echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and
hills, where she devoted herself to woodland sports.
She was a favorite of Diana, and attended her in the
chase. But Echo had one failing; she was fond of
talking, and whether in chat or argument, would have
the last word. One day Juno was seeking her husband,
who, she had reason to fear, was amusing himself
among the nymphs. Echo by her talk contrived to de-
tain the goddess the nymphs made their escape.
till
When Juno it, she passed sentence upon Echo

discovered
in these words: "You shall forfeit the use of that
tongue with which you have cheated me, except for
that one purpose you are so fond of reply. You
shall still have the last word, but no power to speak
first."
This nymph saw Narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he
pursued the chase upon the mountains. She loved him
and followed his footsteps. O how she longed to ad-
dress him in the softest accents, and win him to con-
verse! but it was not in her power. She waited with
impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer
ready. One day the youth, being separated from his
companions, shouted aloud, "Who's here?" Echo re-
plied, "Here." Narcissus looked around, but seeing no
one called out, "Come." Echo answered, "Come." As
no one came, Narcissus called again, "Why do you
shun me?" Echo asked the same question. "Let us
join one another," said the youth. The maid an-
swered with all her heart in the same words, and hast-
ened to the spot, ready to throw her arms about his

neck. He
started back, exclaiming, "Hands off! I
would rather die than you should have me!" "Have
me," said she; but it was all in vain. He left her,
and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses of
the woods. From that time forth she lived in caves
and among mountain Her form faded with grief,
cliffs.
till shrank away. Her bones were
at last all her flesh
changed into rocks and there was nothing left of her
but her voice. With that she is still ready to reply to
any one who calls her, and keeps up her old habit of
having the last word.
Narcissus's cruelty in this case was not the only in-
stance. He shunned all the rest of the nymphs, as
he had done poor Echo. One day a maiden who had
in vain endeavored to attract him uttered a prayer that
he might some time or other feel what it was to love
and meet no return of affection. The avenging god-
dess heard and granted the prayer.
There was a clear fountain, with water like silver,
to which the shepherds never drove their flocks, nor
the mountain goats resorted, nor any of the beasts of
the forest; neither was it defaced with fallen leaves or
branches; but the grass grew fresh around it, and the
rocks sheltered it from the sun. Hither came one day
the youth, fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty.
He stooped down to drink, and saw his own image
in the water; he thought it was some beautiful water-
spirit living in the fountain. He stood gazing with
admiration at those bright eyes, those locks curled like
the locks of Bacchus or Apollo, the rounded cheeks,
the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the glow of health
and exercise over all. He fell in love with himself.
He brought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his
arms in to embrace the beloved object. It fled at the
touch, but returned again after a moment and renewed
the fascination. He could not tear himself away; he
lost all thought of food or rest, while he hovered over
the brink of the fountain gazing upon his own image.
He talked with the supposed spirit: "Why, beautiful
being, do you jihun me? Surely my face is not one
ECHO AND NARCISSUS 103
to repelyou. The nymphs love me, and you your-

self look notindifferent upon me. When I stretch
forth myarms you do the same; and you smile upon
me and answer my
beckonings with the like." His tears
fell into the water and disturbed the image. As he
saw it depart, he exclaimed, "Stay, I entreat you! Let
me gaze upon you, if I may not touch you."
at least
With and much more of the same kind, he cher-
this,
ished the flame that consumed him, so that by degrees
he lost his color, his vigor, and the beauty which for-
merly had so charmed the nymph Echo. She kept near
!"
him, however, and when he exclaimed, "Alas alas !
she answered him with the same words. He pined

away and died; and when his shade passed the Stygian
river, leaned over the boat to catch a look of itself
it
in the waters. The nymphs mourned for him, espe-

cially the water-nymphs; and when they smote their
breasts Echo smote hers also. They prepared a funeral
pile and would have burned the body, but it was no-
where to be found; but in its place a flower, purple
within, and surrounded with white leaves, which bears
the name and preserves the memory of Narcissus.
Milton alludes to the story of Echo and Narcissus in
the Lady's song in "Comus." She is seeking her
brothers in the forest, and sings to attract their at-
tention :
"Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen

Within thy aery shell
By slow Meander's margent green,
And in the violet-embroidered vale,
Where the love-lorn nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well;
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair
That likest thy Narcissus are?
O, if thou have
Hid them in some flowery cave,
Tell me but where,
Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere,
So may'st thou be translated to the skies,
And give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies."
Milton has imitated the story of Narcissus in the
account which he makes Eve give of the first sight
of herself reflected in the fountain:
"That day I oft remember when from sleep
I first awaked, and found myself reposed
Under a shade on flowers, much wondering where
And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.
Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound
Of waters issued from a cave, and spread
Into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved
Pure as the expanse of heaven; I thither went
With unexperienced thought, and laid me down
On the green bank, to look into the clear
Smooth lake that to me seemed another sky.
As I bent down to look, just opposite
A shape within the watery gleam appeared,
Bending to look on me. I started back;
It started back; but pleased I soon returned,
Pleased it returned as soon with answering looks
Of sympathy and love. There had I fixed
Mine eyes till now, and pined wi vain desire,
Had not a voice thus warned me 'What thou seest,
:
What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself ;' " etc.
—
Paradise Lost, Book IV.
No one of the fables of antiquity has been oftener

alluded to by the poets than that of Narcissus. Here
are two epigrams which treat it in different ways. The
first is by Goldsmith:
"On a Beautiful Youth, struck Blind by Lightning

"Sure 'twas by Providence designed,
Rather in pity than in hate,
That he should be like Cupid blind,
To save him from Narcissus' fate."
The other is by Cowper:

"On an Ugly Fellow
"Beware, my of crystal brook
friend,
Or fountain, hideous hook,
lest that
Thy nose, thou chance to see;
Narcissus' fate would then be thine,
And self-detested thou would'st pine,
As self-enamoured he."
CLYTIE
Clytie was a water-nymph and in love with Apollo,

who made her no return. So she pined away, sitting
—
HERO AND LEANDER 105
all day long upon the cold ground, with her unbound
tresses streaming over her shoulders. Nine days she
sat and tasted neither food nor drink, her own tears
and the chilly dew her only food. She gazed on the
sun when he rose, and as he passed through his daily
course to his setting; she saw no other object, her face
turned constantly on him. At last, they say, her limbs
rooted in the ground, her face became a flower 1 which
urns on its stem so as always to face the sun through-
out its daily course; for it retains to that extent the
feeling of the nymph from whom it sprang.
Hood, in his "Flowers," thus alludes to Clytie:

"I will not have the mad Clytie,
Whose head turned by the sun;
is
The tulip is a courtly quean,
Whom therefore I will shun;
The cowslip is a country wench,
The violet is a nun;
But I will woo the dainty rose,
The queen of every one."
The sunflower is a favorite emblem of constancy.

Thus Moore uses it:
"The heart that has truly loved never forgets,

But as truly loves on to the close;
As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets
The same look that she turned when he rose."
HERO AND LEANDER
i
Leander was a youth of Abydos, a town of the
Asian side of the strait which separates Asia and Eu-
rope. On the opposite shore, in the town of Sestos,
lived the maiden Hero, a priestess of Venus. Leander
loved her, and used to swim the strait nightly to enjoy
the company of his mistress, guided by a torch which
she reared upon the tower for the purpose. But one
night a tempest arose and the sea was rough; his
strength failed, and he was drowned. The waves bore
his body to the European shore, where Hero became
1 The sunflower.
aware of his death, and in her despair cast herself
dow*n from the tower into the sea and perished.
The following sonnet is by Keats:
"On a Picture of Leander
"Come hither all sweet maidens soberly,

Down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light
Hid in the fringes of your eyelids white,
And meekly let your fair hands joined be,
As if so gentle that ye could not see,
Untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright,
Sinking away to his young spirit's night,
Sinking bewilder' d 'mid the dreary sea.
'T is young Leander toiling to his death.
Nigh swooning he doth purse his weary lips
For Hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile.
O horrid dream see how his body dips
!
Dead-heavy; anas and shoulders gleam awhile;

He's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!"
The story of Leander's swimming the Hellespont was

looked upon as fabulous, and the feat considered
impossible, till Lord Byron proved its possibility by
performing it himself. In the "Bride of Abydos" he
says,
"These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne."
The distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile,

and there is a constant current setting out from the
Sea of Marmora into the Archipelago. Since Byron's
time the feat has been achieved by others; but it yet
remains a test of strength and skill in the art of swim-
ming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to
any one of our readers who may dare to make the at-
tempt and succeed in accomplishing it.
In the beginning of the second canto of the same poem,

Byron thus alludes to this story:
"The winds are high on Helle's wave,

As on
that night of stormiest water,
When Love, who sent, forgot to save
The young, the beautiful, the brave,
The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter.
MINERVA 107
O, when alone along the sky

The turret-torch was blazing high,
Though rising gale and breaking foam,
And shrieking sea-birds warned him home;
And clouds aloft and tides below,
With signs and sounds forbade to go,
He could not see, he would not hear
Or sound or sight foreboding fear.
His eye but saw that light of love,
The only star it hailed above;
His ear but rang with Hero's song,
'Ye waves, divide not lovers long.'
That tale is old, but love anew
May nerve young hearts to prove as true."
CHAPTER XIV
MINERVA NIOBE
MINERVA
Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, was the daughter
of Jupiter. She was said to have leaped forth from
his brain, mature, and in complete armor. She presided
over the useful and ornamental arts, both those of men
— —
such as agriculture and navigation and those of
—
women, spinning, weaving, and needlework. She was
also a warlike divinity; but it was defensive war only
that she patronized, and she had no sympathy with
Mars's savage love of violence and bloodshed. Athens
was her chosen seat, her own city, awarded to her as the
prize of a contest with Neptune, who also aspired to
it. The tale ran that in the reign of Cecrops, the first
king of Athens, the two deities contended for the pos-
session of the city. The gods decreed that it should
be awarded to that one who produced the gift most
useful to mortals. Neptune gave the horse; Minerva
produced the olive. The gods gave judgment that the
olive was the more useful of the two, and awarded the
city to the goddess and it was named after her, Athens,
;
her name in Greek being Athene.

There was another contest, in which a mortal dared
;
to come in competition with Minerva. That mortal was

Arachne, a maiden who had attained such skill in the
arts of weaving and embroidery that the nymphs them-
selves would leave their groves and fountains to come
and gaze upon her work. It was not only beautiful
when it was done, but beautiful also in the doing. To
watch her, as she took the wool in its rude state and
formed it into rolls, or separated it with her fingers
and carded it till it looked as light and soft as a cloud,
or twirled the spindle with skilful touch, or wove the
web, or, after it was woven, adorned it with her needle,
one would have said that Minerva herself had taught
her. But this she denied, and could not bear to be
thought a pupil even of a goddess. "Let Minerva try
her skill with mine," said she; "if beaten I will pay the
penalty." Minerva heard this and was displeased. She
assumed the form of an old woman and went and gave
Arachne some friendly advice. "I have had much ex-
perience," said she, "and I hope you will not despise
my counsel. Challenge your fellow-mortals as you will,
but do not compete with a goddess. On the contrary,
I advise you to ask her forgiveness for what you have
said, and as she is merciful perhaps she will pardon
you." Arachne stopped her spinning and looked at the
old dame with anger in her countenance. "Keep your
counsel," said she, "for your daughters or handmaids
for my part I know what I say, and I stand to it. I
am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her skill,
if she dare venture." "She comes," said Minerva; and
dropping her disguise stood confessed. The nymphs
bent low in homage, and all the bystanders paid rever-
ence. Arachne alone was unterrified. She blushed, in-
deed a sudden color dyed her cheek, and then she grew
;
pale. But she stood to her resolve, and with a foolish

conceit of her own skill rushed on her fate. Minerva
forbore no longer nor interposed any further advice.
They proceed to the contest. Each takes her station
and attaches the web to the beam. Then the slender
shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. The
reed with its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its
place and compacts the web. Both work with speed;
MINERVA 109
their skilful hands move rapidly, and the excitement of

the contest makes the labor light. Wool of Tyrian dye
is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into
one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the eye.
Like the bow, whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed
by sunbeams reflected from the shower, 1 in which, where
the colors meet they seem as one, but at a little dis-
tance from the point of contact are wholly different.
Minerva wrought on her web the scene of her con-
test with Neptune. Twelve of the heavenly powers are
represented, Jupiter, with august gravity, sitting in the
midst. Neptune, the ruler of the sea, holds his trident,
and appears to have just smitten the earth, from which
a horse has leaped forth. Minerva depicted herself
with helmed head, her iEgis covering her breast. Such
was the central circle and in the four corners were rep-
;
resented incidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods

at such presumptuous mortals as had dared to contend
with them. These were meant as warnings to her rival
to give up the contest before it was too late.
Arachne filled her web with subjects designedly
chosen to exhibit the failings and errors of the gods.
One scene represented Leda caressing the swan, under
which form Jupiter had disguised himself ; and another,
Danae, in the brazen tower in which her father had
imprisoned her, but where the god effected his entrance
in the form of a golden shower. Still another depicted
Europa deceived by Jupiter under the disguise of a
bull. Encouraged by the tameness of the animal Europa
ventured to mount his back, whereupon Jupiter ad-
vanced into the sea and swam with her to Crete. You
would have thought it was a real bull, so naturally was
it wrought, and so natural the water in which it swam.
She seemed to look with longing eyes back upon the
shore she was leaving, and to call to her companions for
help. She appeared to shudder with terror at the sight
of the heaving waves, and to draw back her feet from
the water.
Arachne filled her canvas with similar subjects, won-
1 This correct description of the rainbow is literally translated from
Ovid.
—
derfully well done, but strongly marking her presump-

tion and impiety. Minerva could not forbear to admire,
yet felt indignant at the insult. She struck the web with
her shuttle and rent it in pieces; she then touched the
forehead of Arachne and made her feel her guilt and
shame. She could not endure it and went and hanged
herself. Minerva pitied her as she saw her suspended
by a rope. "Live/' she said, "guilty woman! and that
you may preserve the memory of this lesson, continue
to hang, both you and your descendants, to all future
times." She sprinkled her with the juices of aconite,
and immediately her hair came off, and her nose and
ears likewise. Her form shrank up, and her head grew
smaller yet; her fingers cleaved to her side and served
for legs. All the rest of her is body, out of which she
spins her thread, often hanging suspended by it, in the
same attitude as when Minerva touched her and trans-
formed her into a spider.
Spenser tells the story of Arachne in his "Muiopot j
mos," adhering very closely to his master Ovid, but

improving upon him in the conclusion of the story.
The two stanzas which follow tell what was done after
the goddess had depicted her creation of the olive tree:
"Amongst these leaves she made a Butterfly,

With excellent device and wondrous slight,
Fluttering among the olives wantonly,
That seemed to live, so like it was in sight;
The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie,
The silken down with which his back is dight,
His broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs,
His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes." 1
"Which when Arachne saw, as overlaid

And mastered with workmanship so rare,
She stood astonied ne aught gainsaid;
long,
And with fast-fixed eyes on her did stare,
And by her silence, sign of one dismayed,
The victory did yield her as her share:
Yet did she inly fret and felly burn,
And all her blood to poisonous rancor turn."
1 Sir James Mackintosh says of this, "Do you think that even a Chinese
could paint the gay colors of a butterfly with more minute exactness than
the following lines: 'The velvet nap,' etc.?" Life, Vol. II., 246.
NIOBE 111
And so the metamorphosis is caused by Arachne's own

mortification and vexation, and not by any direct act
of the goddess.
The following specimen of old-fashioned gallantry is

I by Garrick:
"Upon a Lady's Embroidery
"Arachne once, as poets tell,
A goddess at her art defied,
And soon the daring mortal fell
The hapless victim of her pride.
"O, then beware Arachne's fate;

Be prudent, Chloe, and submit,
For you'll most surely meet her hate,
Who rival both her art and wit."
Tennyson, in his "Palace of Art," describing the
works of art with which the palace was adorned, thus
alludes to Europa:
". . . sweet Europa's mantle blew unclasped

From off her shoulder, backward borne,
From one hand drooped a crocus, one hand grasped
The mild bull's golden horn."
In his "Princess" there is this allusion to Danae:

"Now lies the earth all Danae to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me."
NIOBE
The fate of Arachne was noised abroad through all
the country, and served as a warning to all presump-
tuous mortals not to compare themselves with the divini-
ties. But one, and she a matron too, failed to learn
the lesson of humility. It was Niobe, the queen of
Thebes. She had indeed much to be proud of but it ;
was not her husband's fame, nor her own beauty, nor
their great descent, nor the power of their kingdom that
elated her. It was her children; and truly the happiest
of mothers would Niobe have been if only she had not
claimed to be so. It was on occasion of the annual cele-
bration in honor of Latona and her offspring, Apollo
—
and Diana, when the people of Thebes were assem-
bled, their brows crowned with laurel, bearing frankin-
—
cense to the altars and paying their vows, that Niobe
appeared among the crowd. Her attire was splendid with
gold and gems, and her aspect beautiful as the face of
an angry woman can be. She stood and surveyed the
people with haughty looks. "What folly/' said she, "is
this! —to prefer beings whom you never saw to those
who stand before your eyes! Why
should Latona be
honored with worship, and none be paid to me? My
father was Tantalus, who was received as a guest at the
table of the gods; my mother was a goddess. My
hus-
band built and rules Thebes, and Phrygia is
this city,
my paternal inheritance. Wherever I turn my eyes I
survey the elements of my power; nor is my form and
presence unworthy of a goddess. To all this let me add
I have seven sons and seven daughters, and look for
sons-in-law and daughters-in-law of pretensions worthy
of my alliance. Have I not cause for pride? Will you
prefer to me this Latona, the Titan's daughter, with
her two children? I have seven times as many. For-
tunate indeed am I, and fortunate I shall remain! Will
any one deny this? My abundance is my security. I
feel myself too strong for Fortune to subdue. She may
take from me much I shall still have much left. Were
;
I to lose some of my children, I should hardly be left

as poor as Latona with her two only. Away with you
— —
from these solemnities, put off the laurel from your
brows, have done with this worship !" The people
obeyed, and left the sacred services uncompleted.
The goddess was indignant. On the Cynthian moun-
tain top where she dwelt she thus addressed her son and
daughter: "My children, I who have been so proud of
you both, and have been used to hold myself second
to none of the goddesses except Juno alone, begin now
to doubt whether I am indeed a goddess. I shall be de-
prived of my worship altogether unless you protect me."
She was proceeding in this strain, but Apollo interrupted
her. "Say no more," said he; "speech only delays pun-
ishment." So said Diana also. Darting through the air,
— ;
NIOBE 113
veiled in clouds, they alighted on the towers of the city.

Spread out before the gates was a broad plain, where
the youth of the city pursued their warlike sports. The
—
sons of Niobe were there with the rest, some mounted
on spirited horses richly caparisoned, some driving gay
chariots. Ismenos, the first-born, as he guided his foam-
ing steeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out,
"Ah me !" dropped the reins, and fell lifeless. Another,
—
hearing the sound of the bow, like a boatman who sees
the storm gathering and makes all sail for the port,
gave the reins to his horses and attempted to escape.
The inevitable arrow overtook him as he fled. Two
others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had gone to
the playground to have a game of wrestling. As they
stood breast to breast, one arrow pierced them both.
They uttered a cry together, together cast a parting look
around them, and together breathed their last. Al-
phenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall, hastened to
the spot to render assistance, and fell stricken in the
act of brotherly duty. One only was left, Ilioneus. He
raised his arms to heaven to try whether prayer might
not avail."Spare me, ye gods!" he cried, addressing
all, needed not his intercessions
in his ignorance that all
and Apollo would have spared him, but the arrow had
already left the string, and it was too late.
The terror of the people and grief of the attendants
soon made Niobe acquainted with what had taken place.
She could hardly think it possible; she was indignant
that the gods had dared and amazed that they had been
able to do it. Her husband, Amphion, overwhelmed
with the blow, destroyed himself. Alas! how different
was this Niobe from her who had so lately driven away
the people from the sacred rites, and held her stately
course through the city, the envy of her friends, now
the pity even of her foes! She knelt over the lifeless
bodies, and kissed now one, now another of her dead
sons. Raising her pallid arms to heaven, "Cruel La-
tona," said she, "feed full your rage with my anguish!
Satiate your hard heart, while I follow to the grave my
seven sons. Yet where is your triumph? Bereaved as
I am, I am still richer than you, my conqueror." Scarce
:
had she spoken, when the bow sounded and struck ter-
ror into all hearts except Niobe's alone. She was brave
from excess of grief. The sisters stood in garments
of mourning over the biers of their dead brothers. One
fell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she
was bewailing. Another, attempting to console her
mother, suddenly ceased to speak, and sank lifeless to
the earth. A third tried to escape by flight, a fourth by
concealment, another stood trembling, uncertain what
course to take. Six were now dead, and only one re-
mained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms, and
covered as it were with her whole body. "Spare me
one, and that the youngest! O spare me one of so
many !" she cried and while she spoke, that one fell
;
dead. Desolate she sat, among sons, daughters, hus-

band, all dead, and seemed torpid with grief. The
breeze moved not her hair, no color was on her cheek,
her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was no sign
of life about her. Her very tongue cleaved to the roof
of her mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide
of life. Her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture,
her foot no step. She was changed to stone, within and
without. Yet tears continued to flow; and borne on a
whirlwind to her native mountain, she still remains, a
mass of rock, from which a trickling stream flows, the
tribute of her never-ending grief.
The story of Niobe has furnished Byron with a fine

illustration of the fallen condition of modern Rome:
"The Niobe of nations! there she stands,
Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe;
An empty urn within her withered hands,
Whose holy dust was scattered long ago ;
The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now

The very sepulchres lie tenantless
Of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow,
Old Tiber! through a marble wilderness?
Rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress."
Childe Harold, IV. 79.
This affecting story has been made the subject of a

celebrated statue in the imperial gallery of Florence. It
: :
THE GR_^,E AND THE GORGONS 115
is the principal figure of a group supposed to have been

originally arranged in the pediment of a temple. The
figure of the mother clasped by the arm of her terrified
child is one of the most admired of the ancient statues.
It ranks with the Laocoon and the Apollo among the
masterpieces of art. The following is a translation of
a Greek epigram supposed to relate to this statue
"To stone the gods have changed her, but in vain;

The sculptor's art has made her breathe again."
Tragic as is the story of Niobe, we cannot forbear

to smile at the use Moore has made of it in "Rhymes
on the Road"
"'Twas in his carriage the sublime
Sir Richard Blackmore used to rhyme,
And, if the wits don't do him wrong,
'Twixt death and epics passed his time,
Scribbling and killing all day long;
Like Phoebus in his car at ease,
Now warbling forth a lofty song,
Now murdering the young Niobes."
Sir Richard Blackmore was a physician, and at the

same time a very prolific and very tasteless poet, whose
works are now forgotten, unless when recalled to mind
by some wit like Moore for the sake of a joke.
CHAPTER XV
THE GRJE2E OR GRAY-MAIDS- — PERSEUS MEDUSA
ATLAS ANDRO M EDA
THE GR/EvE AND THE GORGONS

The Grseae were three sisters who were gray-haired
from their birth, whence their name. The Gorgons were
monstrous females with huge teeth like those of swine,
brazen claws, and snaky hair. None of these beings
make much figure in mythology except Medusa, the Gor-

gon, whose story we shall next advert to. We mention
them chiefly to introduce an ingenious theory of some
modern writers, namely, that the Gorgons and Graeae
were only personifications of the terrors of the sea,
the former denoting the strong billows of the wide open
main, and the latter the white-crested waves that dash
against the rocks of the coast. Their names in Greek
signify the above epithets.
PERSEUS AND MEDUSA

Perseus was the son of Jupiter and Danae. His grand-
father Acrisius, alarmed by an oracle which had told
him that his daughter's child would be the instrument of
his death, caused the mother and child to be shut up in
a chest and set adrift on the sea. The chest floated
towards Seriphus, where it was found by a fisherman
who conveyed the mother and infant to Polydectes, the
king of the country, by whom they were treated with
kindness. When Perseus was grown up Polydectes sent
him to attempt the conquest of Medusa, a terrible mon-
ster who had laid waste the country. She was once
a beautiful maiden whose hair was her chief glory, but
as she dared to vie in beauty with Minerva, the goddess
deprived her of her charms and changed her beautiful
ringlets into hissing serpents. She became a cruel mon-
ster of so frightful an aspect that no living thing could
behold her without being turned into stone. All around
the cavern where she dwelt might be seen the stony
figures of men and animals which had chanced to catch
a glimpse of her and had been petrified with the sight.
Perseus, favored by Minerva and Mercury, the former
of whom lent him her shield and the latter his winged
shoes, approached Medusa while she slept, and taking
care not to look directly at her, but guided by her image
reflected in the bright shield which he bore, he cut off
her head and gave it to Minerva, who fixed it in the
middle of her Jfegis.
Milton, in his "Comus," thus alludes to the Êgis:

PERSEUS AND ATLAS 117
"What was that snaky-headed Gorgon-shield

That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,
Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,
But rigid looks of chaste austerity,
And noble grace that dashed brute violence
With sudden adoration and blank awe!"
Armstrong, the poet of the "Art of Preserving

Health," thus describes the effect of frost upon the
waters :
"Now blows the surly North and chills throughout

The stiffening regions, while by stronger charms
Than Circe e'er or fell Medea brewed,
Each brook that wont to prattle to its banks
Lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks,
Nor moves the withered reeds . . .
The surges baited by the fierce North-east,

Tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads,
E'en in the foam of all their madness struck
To monumental ice.
Such execution,
So stern, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect
Of terrible Medusa,
When wandering through the woods she turned to stone
Their savage tenants just as the foaming Lion
;
Sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power

Outran his haste,
And fixed in that fierce attitude he stands
Like Rage in marble!"
—
Imitations of Shakspeare,
PERSEUS AND ATLAS

After the slaughter of Medusa, Perseus, bearing with
him the head of the Gorgon, flew far and wide, over
land and sea. As night came on, he reached the western
limit of the earth, where the sun goes down. Here he
would gladly have rested till morning. It was the realm
of King Atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other
men. He was rich in flocks and herds and had no
neighbor or rival to dispute his state. But his chief
pride was in his gardens, whose fruit was of gofd, hang-
ing from golden branches, half hid with golden leaves.
Perseus said to him, "I come as a guest. If you honor
illustrious descent, I claim Jupiter for my father; if
mighty deeds, I plead the conquest of the Gorgon, I
seek rest and food." But Atlas remembered that an an-
cient prophecy had warned him that a son of Jove should
one day rob him of his golden apples. So he answered,
"Begone or neither your false claims of glory nor par-
!
entage shall protect you;" and he attempted to thrust

him Perseus, finding the giant too strong for him,
out.
said, "Since you value my friendship so little, deign to
accept a present;" and turning his face away, he held
up the Gorgon's head. Atlas, with all his bulk, was
changed into stone. His beard and hair became forests,
his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head a summit, and
his bones rocks. Each part increased in bulk till he be-
came a mountain, and (such was the pleasure of the
gods) heaven with all its stars rests upon his shoulders.
THE SEA-MONSTER
Perseus, continuing his flight, arrived at the country
of the Êthiopians, of which Cepheus was king. Cas-
siopeia his queen, proud of her beauty, had dared to
compare herself to the Sea-Nymphs, which roused their
indignation to such a degree that they sent a prodigious
sea-monster to ravage the coast. To appease the deities,
Cepheus was directed by the oracle to expose his
daughter Andromeda to be devoured by the monster.
As Perseus looked down from his aerial height he beheld
the virgin chained to a rock, and waiting the approach of
the serpent. She was so pale and motionless that if it
had not been for her flowing tears and her hair that
moved in the breeze, he would have taken her for a
marble statue. He was so startled at the sight that he al-
most forgot to wave his wings. As he hovered over her
he said, "O virgin, undeserving of those chains, but
rather of such as bind fond lovers together, tell me, I
beseech you, your name, and the name of your country,
and why you are thus bound." At first she was silent
from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid her
face with her hands but when he repeated his questions,
;
for fear she might be thought guilty of some fault which

she dared not tell, she disclosed her name and that of
THE SEA-MONSTER 119
her country, and her mother's pride of beauty. Before

she had done speaking, a sound was heard off upon the
water, and the sea-monster appeared, with his head
raised above the surface, cleaving the waves with his
broad breast. The virgin shrieked, the father and mother
who had now arrived at the scene, wretched both, but
the mother more justly so, stood by, not able to afford
protection, but only to pour forth lamentations and to
embrace the victim. Then spoke Perseus "There will
:
be time enough for tears; this hour is all we have for

rescue. My rank as the son of Jove and my renown as
the slayer of the Gorgon might make me acceptable as
a suitor; but I will try to win her by services rendered,
if the gods will only be propitious. If she be rescued by
my valor, I demand that she be my reward." The par-
ents consent (how could they hesitate?) and promise a
royal dowry with her.
And now the monster was within the range of a stone
thrown by a skilful slinger, when with a sudden bound
the youth soared into the air. As an eagle, when from
his lofty flight he sees a serpent basking in the sun,
pounces upon him and seizes him by the neck to prevent
him from turning his head round and using his fangs,
so the youth darted down upon the back of the monster
and plunged his sword into its shoulder. Irritated by
the wound, the monster raised himself in the air, then
plunged into the depth then, like a wild boar surrounded,
;
by a pack of barking dogs, turned swiftly from side to

side, while the youth eluded its attacks by means of his
wings. Wherever he can find a passage for his sword
between the scales he makes a wound, piercing now the
side, now the flank, as it slopes towards the tail. The
brute spouts from his nostrils water mixed with blood.
The wings of the hero are wet with it, and he dares no
longer trust to them. Alighting on a rock which rose
above the waves, and holding on by a projecting frag-
ment, as the monster floated near he gave him a death
stroke. The people who had gathered on the shore
shouted so that the hills reechoed the sound. The par-
ents, transported with joy, embraced their future son-in-
law, calling him their deliverer and the savior of their
house, and the virgin, both cause and reward of the con-
test, descended from the rock.
Cassiopeia was an Êthiopian, and consequently, in

spite of her boasted beauty, black; at least so Milton
seems to have thought, who alludes to this story in his
"Penseroso," where he addresses Melancholy as the
"... goddess, sage and holy,

Whose saintly visage is too bright
To hit the sense of human sight,
And, therefore, to our weaker view
O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue.
Black, but such as in esteem
Prince Memnon's sister might beseem,
Or that starred ^thiop queen that strove
To set her beauty's praise above
The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended."
Cassiopeia is called "the starred Êthiop queen" be-

cause after her death she was placed among the stars,
forming the constellation of that name. Though she
attained this honor, yet the Sea-Nymphs, her old ene-
mies, prevailed so far as to cause her to be placed in that
part of the heaven near the pole, where every night she
is half the time held with her head downward, to give
her a lesson of humility.
Memnon was an Êthiopian prince, of whom we
shall tell in a future chapter.
THE WEDDING FEAST

The joyful parents, with Perseus and Andromeda,
repaired to the palace, where a banquet was spread for
them, and all was joy and festivity. But suddenly a
noise was heard of warlike clamor, and Phineus, the
betrothed of the virgin, with a party of his adherents,
burst in, demanding the maiden as his own. It was in
—
vain that Cepheus remonstrated "You should have
claimed her when she lay bound to the rock, the mon-
ster's victim. The sentence of the gods dooming her to
such a fate dissolved all engagements, as death itself
THE WEDDING FEAST 121
would have done." Phineus made no reply, but hurled

his javelin at Perseus, but it missed its mark and fell
harmless. Perseus would have thrown his in turn, but

the cowardly assailant ran and took shelter behind the
altar. But his act was a signal for an onset by his band
upon the guests of Cepheus. They defended themselves
and a general conflict ensued, the old king retreating
from the scene after fruitless expostulations, calling the
gods to witness that he was guiltless of this outrage on
the rights of hospitality.
Perseus and his friends maintained for some time the
unequal contest; but the numbers of the assailants were
too great for them, and destruction seemed inevitable,
—
when a sudden thought struck Perseus, "I will make
my enemy defend me." Then with a loud voice he ex-
claimed, "If I have any friend here let him turn away
his eyes !" and held aloft the Gorgon's head. "Seek not
to frighten us with your jugglery," said Thescelus, and
raised his javelin in act to throw, and became stone in the
very attitude.Ampyx was about to plunge his sword
into thebody of a prostrate foe, but his arm stiffened
and he could neither thrust forward nor withdraw it.
Another, in the midst of a vociferous challenge, stopped,
his mouth open, but no sound issuing. One of Perseus's
friends, Aconteus, caught sight of the Gorgon and stiff-
ened like the rest. Astyages struck him with his sword,
but instead of wounding, it recoiled with a ringing
noise.
Phineus beheld this dreadful result of his unjust ag-
gression, and felt confounded. He called aloud to his
friends, but got no answer; he touched them and found
them stone. Falling on his knees and stretching out his
hands to Perseus, but turning his head away he begged
for mercy. "Take all," said he, "give me but my life."
"Base coward," said Perseus, "thus much I will grant
you; no weapon shall touch you; moreover, you shall
be preserved in my house as a memorial of these events."
So saying, he held the Gorgon's head to the side where
Phineus was looking, and in the very form in which he
knelt, with his hands outstretched and face averted, he
became fixed immovably, a mass of stone!
:
The following allusion to Perseus is from Milman's

"Samor"
"As 'mid the fabled Libyan bridal stood
Perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath,
Half stood, half floated on his ankle-plumes
Out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield
Looked into stone the raging fray; so rose,
But with no magic arms, wearing alone
Th' appalling and control of his firm look,
The Briton Samor; at his rising awe
Went abroad, and the riotous hall was mute."
CHAPTER XVI
MONSTERS
GIANTS, SPHINX, PEGASUS AND CHIMERA, CENTAURS,

GRIFFIN, AND PYGMIES
Monsters, in the language of mythology, were beings

of unnatural proportions or parts, usually regarded with
terror, as possessing immense strength and ferocity,
which they employed for the injury and annoyance of
men. Some of them were supposed to combine the mem-
bers of different animals; such were the Sphinx and
Chimsera; and to these all the terrible qualities of wild
beasts were attributed, together with human sagacity and
faculties. Others, as the giants, differed from men chiefly
in their size; and in this particular we must recognize
a wide distinction among them. The human giants, if
so they may be called, such as the Cyclopes, Antaeus,
Orion, and others, must be supposed not to be altogether
disproportioned to human beings, for they mingled in
love and strife with them. But the superhuman giants,
who warred with the gods, were of vastly larger dimen-
sions, Tityus, we are told, when stretched on the plain,
covered nine acres, and Enceladus required the whole of
Mount iStna to be laid upon him to keep him down.
We have already spoken of the war which the giants
waged against the gods, and of its result. While this
THE SPHINX 123
war lasted the giants proved a formidable enemy. Some

of them, like Briareus, had a hundred arms; others, like
Typhon, breathed out fire. At one time they put the gods
to such fear that they fled into Egypt and hid them-
selves under various forms. Jupiter took the form of a
ram, whence he was afterwards worshipped in Egypt as
the god Ammon, with curved horns. Apollo became a
crow, Bacchus a goat, Diana a cat, Juno a cow, V
enus a
fish, Mercury a bird. At another time the giants at-
tempted to climb up into heaven, and for that purpose
took up the mountain Ossa and piled it on Pelion. 1
They were at last subdued by thunderbolts, which Min-
erva invented, and taught Vulcan and his Cyclopes to
make for Jupiter.
THE sphinx
Laius, king of Thebes, was warned by an oracle that
there was danger to his throne and life if his new-born
son should be suffered to grow up. He therefore commit-
ted the child to the care of a herdsman with orders to de-
stroy him; but the herdsman, moved with pity, yet not
daring entirely to disobey, tied up the child by the feet
and left him hanging to the branch of a tree. In this
condition the infant was found by a peasant, who car-
ried him to his master and mistress, by whom he was
adopted and called GEdipus, or Swollen-foot.
Many years afterwards Laius being on his way to
Delphi, accompanied only by one attendant, met in a nar-
row road a young man also driving in a chariot. On his
refusal to leave the way at their command the attendant
killed one of his horses, and the stranger, filled with rage,
slew both Laius and his attendant. The young man was
(Edipus, who thus unknowingly became the slayer of
his own father.
Shortly after this event the city of Thebes was afflicted
with a monster which infested the highroad. It was
called the Sphinx. It had the body of a lion and the
upper part of a woman. It lay crouched on the top of
a rock, and arrested all travellers who came that way ?

proposing to them a riddle, with the condition that those
who could solve it should pass safe, but those who
failed should be killed. Not one had yet succeeded
in solving it, and all had been slain. (Edipus was not
daunted by these alarming accounts, but boldly advanced
to the trial. The Sphinx asked him, "What animal is
that which in the morning gees on four feet, at noon on
two, and in the evening upon three?" (Edipus replied,
"Man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in
manhood walks erect, and in old age with the aid of a
staff." The Sphinx was so mortified at the solving of
her riddle that she cast herself down from the rock and
perished.
The gratitude of the people for their deliverance was
so great that they made CEdipus their king, giving him
in marriage their queen Jocasta. (Edipus, ignorant of
his parentage, had already become the slayer of his fa-
ther; in marrying the queen he became the husband of
his mother. These horrors remained undiscovered, till at
length Thebes was afflicted with famine and pestilence,
and the oracle being consulted, the double crime of
(Edipus came to light. Jocasta put an end to her own
life, and CEdipus, seized with madness, tore out his eyes
and wandered away from Thebes, dreaded and aban-
doned by all except his daughters, who faithfully ad-
hered to him, till after a tedious period of miserable
wandering he found the termination of his wretched
life.
PEGASUS AND THE CHIMERA

When Perseus cut off Medusa's head, the blood sink-
ing into the earth produced the winged horse Pegasus.
Minerva caught him and tamed him and presented him
to the Muses. The fountain Hippocrene, on the Muses'
mountain Helicon, was opened by a kick from his hoof.
The Chimsera was a fearful monster, breathing fire.
The fore part of its body was a compound of the lion
and the goat, and the hind part a dragon's. It made
great havoc in Lycia, so that the king, Iobates, sought
for some hero to destroy it. At that time there arrived
at his court a gallant young warrior, whose name was
PEGASUS AND THE CHIJVLERA — 125
Bellerophon. He brought letters from Proetus, the son-

in-law of Iobates, recommending Bellerophon in the
warmest terms as an unconquerable hero, but added at
the close a request to his father-in-law to put him to
death. The reason was that Proetus was jealous of him,
suspecting that his wife Antea looked with too much ad-
miration on the young warrior. From this instance of
Bellerophon being unconsciously the bearer of his own
death warrant, the expression "Bellerophontic letters"
arose, to describe any species of communication which a
person is made the bearer of, containing matter preju-
dicial to himself.
Iobates, on perusing the letters, was puzzled what to
do, not willing to violate the claims of hospitality, yet
wishing to oblige his son-in-law. A
lucky thought oc-
curred to him, to send Bellerophon to combat with the
Chimaera. Bellerophon accepted the proposal, but be-
fore proceeding to the combat consulted the soothsayer
Polyidus, who advised him to procure if possible the
horse Pegasus for the conflict. For this purpose he
directed him to pass the night in the temple of Minerva.
He did so, and as he slept Minerva came to him and gave
him a golden bridle. When he awoke the bridle re-
mained in his hand. Minerva also showed him Pegasus
drinking at the well of Pirene, and at sight of the bridle
the winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to
be taken. Bellerophon mounted him, rose with him into
the air, soon found the Chimaera, and gained an easy
victory over the monster.
After the conquest of the Chimaera Bellerophon was
exposed to further trials and labors by his unfriendly
host, but by the aid of Pegasus he triumphed in them
all, till at length Iobates, seeing that the hero was a
special favorite of the gods, gave him his daughter in
marriage and made him his successor on the throne. At
last Bellerophon by his pride and presumption drew
upon himself the anger of the gods; it is said he even
attempted to fly up into heaven on his winged steed, but
Jupiter sent a gadfly which stung Pegasus and made
him throw his rider, who became lame and blind in con-
sequence. After this Bellerophon wandered lonely
through the Aleian field, avoiding the paths of men, and

died miserably.
Milton alludes to Bellerophon in the beginning of the

seventh book of "Paradise Lost":
"Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name

If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine
Following above the Olympian hill I soar,
Above the flight of Pegasean wing.
Upled by thee,
Into the Heaven of Heavens I have presumed,
An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air
(Thy tempering) with like safety guided down
;
Return me to my native element;

Lest from this flying steed unreined (as once
Bellerophon, though from a lower sphere),
Dismounted on the Aleian field I fall,
Erroneous there to wander and forlorn."
Young, in his "Night Thoughts," speaking of the

sceptic, says:
"He whose blind thought futurity denies,

Unconscious bears, Bellerophon, like thee
His own indictment; he condemns himself.
Who reads his bosom reads immortal life,
Or nature there, imposing on her sons 5>
Has written fables; man was made a lie."

Vol. II., p. 12.
Pegasus, being the horse of the Muses, has always

been at the service of the poets. Schiller tells a pretty
story of his having been sold by a needy poet and put to
the cart and the plough. He was not fit for such service,
and his clownish master could make nothing of him.
But a youth stepped forth and asked leave to try him.
As soon as he was seated on his back the horse, which
had appeared at first vicious, and afterwards spirit-
broken, rose kingly, a spirit, a god, unfolded the splen-
dor of his wings, and soared towards heaven. Our own
poet Longfellow also records an adventure of this fa-
mous steed in his "Pegasus in Pound."
Shakspeare alludes to Pegasus in "Henry IV.," where

Vernon describes Prince Henry:
THE CENTAURS 127
"I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,

His cuishes on his thighs, gallantly armed,
Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his seat,
As an angel dropped down from the clouds,
if
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,
And witch the world with noble horsemanship."
THE CENTAURS
These monsters were represented as men from the
head to the loins, while the remainder of the body was
that of a horse. The ancients were too fond of a horse
to consider the union of his nature with man's as form-
ing a very degraded compound, and accordingly the
Centaur is the only one of the fancied monsters of an-
tiquity to which any good traits are assigned. The Cen-
taurs were admitted to the companionship of man, and
at the marriage of Pirithous with Hippodamia they were
among the guests. At the feast Eurytion, one of the
Centaurs, becoming intoxicated with the wine, attempted
to offer violence to the bride; the other Centaurs fol-
lowed his example, and a dreadful conflict arose in which
several of them were slain. This is the celebrated battle
of the Lapithse and Centaurs, a favorite subject with
the sculptors and poets of antiquity.
But not all the Centaurs were like the rude guests of
Pirithous. Chiron was instructed by Apollo and Diana,
and was renowned for his skill in hunting, medicine,
music, and the art of prophecy. The most distinguished
heroes of Grecian story were his pupils. Among the
f
rest the infant iEsculapius was intrusted to his charge
by Apollo, his father. When the sage returned to his
home bearing the infant, his daughter Ocyroe came
forth to meet him, and at sight of the child burst forth
into a prophetic strain (for she was a prophetess), fore-
telling the glory that he was to achieve. Êsculapius
when grown up became a renowned physician, and even
in one instance succeeded in restoring the dead to life.
Pluto resented this, and Jupiter, at his request, struck
the bold physician with lightning, and killed him, but
after his death received him into the number of the gods.
:
Chiron was the wisest and justest of all the Centaurs,

and at his death Jupiter placed him among the stars as
the constellation Sagittarius.
THE PYGMIES
The Pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, so called from
a Greek word which means the cubit or measure of
about thirteen inches, which was said to be the height of
these people. They lived near the sources of the Nile,
or according to others, in India. Homer tells us that
the cranes used to migrate every winter to the Pygmies'
country, and their appearance was the signal of bloody
warfare to the puny inhabitants, who had to take up
arms to defend their cornfields against the rapacious
strangers. The Pygmies and their enemies the Cranes
form the subject of several works of art.
Later writers tell of an army of Pygmies which find-
ing Hercules asleep made preparations to attack him, as
if they were about to attack a city. But the hero,
awaking, laughed at the little warriors, wrapped some
of them up in his lion's skin, and carried them to
Eurystheus.
Milton uses the Pygmies for a simile, "Paradise

Lost," Book I.
". . . like that Pygmaean race

Beyond the Indian mount, or fairy elves
Whose midnight revels by a forest side,
Or fountain, some belated peasant sees
(Or dreams he sees), while overhead the moon
Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth
Wheels her pale course they on their mirth and dance
;
Intent, with jocund music charm his ear.

At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds."
THE GRIFFIN, OR GRYPHON

The Griffin is a monster with the body of a lion, the
head and wings of an eagle, and back covered with
feathers. Like birds it builds its nest, and instead of an
egg lays an agate therein. It has long claws and talons
: —
THE GOLDEN FLEECE 129
of such a size that the people of that country make

them into drinking-cups. India was assigned as the na-
tive country of the Griffins. They found gold in the
mountains and built their nests of it, for which reason
their nests were very tempting to the hunters, and they
were forced to keep vigilant guard over them. Their in-
stinct led them to know where buried treasures lay, and
they did their best to keep plunderers at a distance. The
Arimaspians, among whom the Griffins flourished, were
a one-eyed people of Scythia.
Milton borrows a simile from the Griffins, "Paradise

Lost," Book II.
"As when a Gryphon through the wilderness,

With winged course, o'er hill and moory dale,
Pursues the Arimaspian who by stealth
Hath from his wakeful custody purloined
His guarded gold," etc.
CHAPTER XVII
THE GOLDEN FLEECE —MEDEA
THE GOLDEN FLEECE
In very ancient times there lived in Thessaly a king
and queen named Athamas and Nephele. They had two
children, a boy and a girl. After a time Athamas grew
indifferent to his wife, put her away, and took another.
Nephele suspected danger to her children from the in-
fluence of the step-mother, and took measures to send
them out of her reach. Mercury assisted her, and gave
her a ram with a golden fleece, on which she set the two
children, trusting that the ram would convey them to a
place of safety. The ram vaulted into the air with the
children on his back, taking his course to the East, till
when crossing the strait that divides Europe and Asia,
the girl, whose name was Helle, fell from, his back into
the sea, which from her was called the Hellespont,
now the Dardanelles. The ram continued his career till
he reached the kingdom of Colchis, on the eastern shore

of the Black Sea, where he safely landed the boy
Phryxus, who was hospitably received by Êetes, king
of the country. Phryxus sacrificed the ram to Jupiter,
and gave the Golden Fleece to iEetes, who placed it in
a consecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless
dragon.
There was another kingdom in Thessaly near to that
of Athamas, and ruled over by a relative of his. The
king Êson, being tired of the cares of government, sur-
rendered his crown to his brother Pelias on condition
that he should hold it only during the minority of Jason,
the son of iEson. When Jason was grown up and came
to demand the crown from his uncle, Pelias pretended
to be willing to yield it, but at the same time suggested
to the young man the glorious adventure of going in
quest of the Golden Fleece, which it was well known was
in the kingdom of Colchis, and was, as Pelias pretended,
the rightful property of their family. Jason was pleased
with the thought, and forthwith made preparations for
the expedition. At that time the only species of naviga-
tion known to the Greeks consisted of small boats or
canoes hollowed out from trunks of trees, so that when
Jason employed Argus to build him a vessel capable of
containing fifty men, it was considered a gigantic under-
taking. It was accomplished, however, and the vessel
named "Argo," from the name of the builder. Jason
sent his invitation to all the adventurous young men of
Greece, and soon found himself at the head of a band of
bold youths, many of whom afterwards were renowned
among the heroes and demigods of Greece. Hercules,
Theseus, Orpheus, and Nestor were among them. They
are called the Argonauts, from the name of their vessel.
The "Argo" with her crew of heroes left the shores
of Thessaly and having touched at the Island of Lemnos,
thence crossed to Mysia and thence to Thrace. Here
they found the sage Phineus, and from him received in-
struction as to their future course. It seems the en-
trance of the Euxine Sea was impeded by two small
rocky islands, which floated on the surface, and in their
tossings and heavings occasionally came together, crush-
ing and grinding to atoms any object that might be caught

between them. They were called the Symplegades, or
Clashing Islands. Phineus instructed the Argonauts
how to pass this dangerous strait. When they reached
the islands they let go a dove, which took her way be-
tween the rocks, and passed in safety, only losing some
feathers of her tail. Jason and his men seized the
favorable moment of the rebound, plied their oars with
vigor, and passed safe through, though the islands closed
behind them, and actually grazed their stern. They now
rowed along the shore till they arrived at the eastern
end of the sea, and landed at the kingdom of Colchis.
Jason made known his message to the Colchian king,
Êetes, who consented to give up the golden fleece if
Jason would yoke to the plough two fire-breathing bulls
with brazen feet, and sow the teeth of the dragon
which Cadmus had slain, and from which it was well
known that a crop of armed men would spring up,
who would turn their weapons against their producer.
Jason accepted the conditions, and a time was set for
making the experiment. Previously, however, he found
means to plead his cause to Medea, daughter of the king.
He promised her marriage, and as they stood before the
altar of Hecate, called the goddess to witness his oath.
Medea yielded, and by her aid, for she was a potent
sorceress, he was furnished with a charm, by which he
could encounter safely the breath of the fire-breathing
bulls and the weapons of the armed men.
At the time appointed, the people assembled at the
grove of Mars, and the king assumed his royal seat,
while the multitude covered the hill-sides. The brazen-
footed bulls rushed in, breathing fire from their nostrils
that burned up the herbage as they passed. The sound
was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke like that
of water upon quick-lime. Jason advanced boldly to
meet them. His friends, the chosen heroes of Greece,
trembled to behold him. Regardless of the burning
breath, he soothed their rage with his voice, patted their
necks with fearless hand, and adroitly slipped over them
the yoke, and compelled them to drag the plough. The
Colchians were amazed; the Greeks shouted for joy.
Jason next proceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and

plough them in. And soon the crop of armed men
sprang up, and, wonderful to relate no sooner had they
!
reached the surface than they began to brandish their

weapons and rush upon Jason. The Greeks trembled for
their hero, and even she who had provided him a way
of safety and taught him how to use it, Medea herself,
grew pale with fear. Jason for a time kept his assail-
ants at bay with his sword and shield, till, finding their
numbers overwhelming, he resorted to the charm which
Medea had taught him, seized a stone and threw it in
the midst of his foes. They immediately turned their
arms against one another, and soon there was not one
of the dragon's brood left alive. The Greeks embraced
their hero, and Medea, if she dared, would have em-
braced him too.
It remained to lull to sleep the dragon that guarded
the fleece, and this was done by scattering over him a
few drops of a preparation which Medea had supplied.
At the smell he relaxed his rage, stood for a moment
motionless, then shut those great round eyes, that had
never been known to shut before, and turned over on
his side, fast asleep. Jason seized the fleece and with
his friends and Medea accompanying, hastened to their
vessel before vEetes the king could arrest their depart-
ure, and made the best of their way back to Thessaly,
where they arrived safe, and Jason delivered the fleece
to Pelias, and dedicated the "Argo" to Neptune. What
became of the fleece afterwards we do not know, but
perhaps it was found after all, like many other golden
prizes, not worth the trouble it had cost to procure it.
This isone of those mythological tales, says a late

writer, in which there is reason to believe that a sub-
stratum of truth exists, though overlaid by a mass of
fiction. It probably was the first important maritime
expedition, and like the first attempts of the kind of all
nations, as we know from history, was probably of a
half-piratical character. If rich spoils were the result
it was enough to give rise to the idea of the golden
fleece.
: ;
Another suggestion of a learned mythologist, Bryant,

isthat it is a corrupt tradition of the story of Noah and
the ark. The name "Argo" seems to countenance this,
and the incident of the dove is another confirmation.
Pope, in his "Ode on St. Cecilia's Day," thus cele-

brates the launching of the ship "Argo," and the power
of the music of Orpheus, whom he calls the Thracian:
" So when the first bold vessel dared the seas,

High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain,
While Argo saw her kindred trees
Descend from Pelion to the main.
Transported demigods stood round,
And men grew heroes at the sound."
In Dyer's poem of "The Fleece" there is an account

of the ship "Argo" and her crew, which gives a good
picture of this primitive maritime adventure:
"From every region of ^gea's shore

The brave assembled those illustrious twins
;
Castor and Pollux; Orpheus, tuneful bard;

Zetes and Calais, as the wind in speed
Strong Hercules and many a chief renowned.
On deep Iolcos' sandy shore they thronged,
Gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits;
And soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone
Uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark;
Whose keel of wondrous length the skilful hand
Of Argus fashioned for the proud attempt;
And in the extended keel a lofty mast
Upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs
Unwonted objects. Now first, now they learned
Their bolder steerage over ocean wave,
Led by the golden stars, as Chiron's art
Had marked the sphere celestial," etc.
Hercules left the expedition at Mysia, for Hylas, a

youth beloved by him, having gone for water, was laid
hold of and kept by the nymphs of the spring, who
were fascinated by his beauty. Hercules went in quest
of the lad, and while he was absent the "Argo" put to
sea and left him. Moore, in one of his songs, makes
a beautiful allusion to this incident
"When Hylas was sent with his urn to the fount,
Through fields full of light and with heart full of play,
Light rambled the boy over meadow and mount,
And neglected his task for the flowers in the way.
"Thus many like me, who in youth should have tasted

The fountain that runs by Philosophy's shrine,
Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted,
And left their light urns all as empty as mine."
MEDEA AND ÊSON

Amid the rejoicings for the recovery of the Golden
Fleece, Jason felt that one thing was wanting, the pres-
ence of yEson, his father, who was prevented by his
age and infirmities from taking part in them. Jason
said to Medea, "My spouse, would that your arts,
whose power I have seen so mighty for my aid, could
do me one further service, take some years from, my
lifeand add them to my father's." Medea replied,
"Not at such a cost shall be done, but if my art
it
avails me, his life shall be lengthened without abridg-

ing yours. " The next full moon she issued forth alone,
while all creatures slept; not a breath stirred the fo-
liage, and all was still. To the stars she addressed her
incantations, and to the moon; to Hecate, 1 the goddess
of the underworld, and to Tellus the goddess of the
earth, by whose power plants potent for enchantment
are produced. She invoked the gods of the woods and
caverns, of mountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers,
of winds and vapors. While she spoke the stars shone
brighter, and presently a chariot descended through the
air, drawn by flying serpents. She ascended it, and
borne aloft made her way to distant regions, where po-
tent plants grew which she knew how to select for her
purpose. Nine nights she employed in her search, and
during that time came not within the doors of her pal-
ace nor under any roof, and shunned all intercourse
with mortals.
1 Hecate was a mysterious divinity sometimes identified with Diana and
sometimes with Proserpine. As Diana represents the moonlight splendor

of night, so Hecate represents its darkness and terrors. She was the
goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by night
along the earth, seen only by the dogs, whose barking told her approach.
MEDEA AND yESON 135
She next erected two altars, the one to Hecate, the

other to Hebe, the goddess of youth, and sacrificed a
black sheep, pouring libations of milk and wine. She
implored Pluto and his stolen bride that they would not
hasten to take the old man's life. Then she directed
that Êson should be led forth, and having thrown him
into a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed
of herbs, like one dead. Jason and all others were
kept away from the place, that no profane eyes might
look upon her mysteries. Then, with streaming hair,
she thrice moved round the altars, dipped flaming twigs
in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn. Mean-
while the caldron with its contents was got ready. In
it she put magic herbs, w ith seeds and flowers of acrid
T
juice, stones from the distant east, and sand from the
shore of all-surrounding ocean; hoar frost, gathered by
moonlight, a screech owl's head and wings, and the en-
trails of a wolf. She added fragments of the shells
—
of tortoises, and the liver of stags, animals tenacious
—
of life, and the head and beak of a crow, that out-
lives nine generations of men. These with many other
things "without a name" she boiled together for her
purposed work, stirring them up with a dry olive
branch and behold the branch when taken out in-
; !
stantly became green, and before long was covered with

leaves and a plentiful growth of young olives; and as
the liquor boiled and bubbled, and sometimes ran over,
the grass wherever the sprinklings fell shot forth with
a verdure like that of spring.
Seeing that all was ready, Medea cut the throat of
the old man and let out all his blood, and poured into
his mouth and into his wound the juices of her caldron.
As soon as he had completely imbibed them, his hair
and beard laid by their whiteness and assumed the black-
ness of youth; his paleness and emaciation were gone;
his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor and
robustness. iEson is amazed at himself, and remembers
that such as he now is, he was in his youthful days,
forty years before.
Medea used her arts here for a good purpose, but
not so in another instance, where she made them the
instruments of revenge. Pelias, our readers will recol-
lect, was the usurping uncle of Jason, and had kept him
out of his kingdom. Yet he must have had some good
qualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they
saw what Medea had done for Êson, they wished her
to do the same for their father. Medea pretended to
consent, and prepared her caldron as before. At her
request an old sheep was brought and plunged into the
caldron. Very soon a bleating was heard in the kettle,
and when the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth
and ran frisking away into the meadow. The daughters
of Pelias saw the experiment with delight, and appointed
a time for their father to undergo the same operation.
But Medea prepared her caldron for him in a very
different way. She put in only water and a few simple
herbs. In the night she with the sisters entered the
bed chamber of the old king, while he and his guards
slept soundly under the influence of a spell cast upon
them by Medea. The daughters stood by the bedside
with their weapons drawn, but hesitated to strike, till
Medea chid their irresolution. Then turning away their
faces, and giving random blows, they smote him with
their weapons. He, starting from his sleep, cried out,
"My daughters, what are you doing? Will you kill
your father?" Their hearts failed them and their weap-
ons fell from their hands, but Medea struck him a fatal
blow, and prevented his saying more.
Then they placed him in the caldron, and Medea
hastened to depart in her serpent-drawn chariot before
they discovered her treachery, or their vengeance would
have been terrible. She escaped, however, but had little
enjoyment of the fruits of her crime. Jason, for whom
she had done so much, wishing to marry Creusa, princess
of Corinth, put away Medea. She, enraged at his in-
gratitude, called on the gods for vengeance, sent a pois-
oned robe as a gift to the bride, and then killing her
own children, and setting fire to the palace, mounted
her serpent-drawn chariot and fled to Athens, where
she married King zEgeus, the father of Theseus, and
we shall meet her again when we come to the adven-
tures of that hero.
MEDEA AND ^SON 137
The incantations of Medea will remind the reader

of those of the witches in "Macbeth." The following
lines are those which seem most strikingly to recall the
ancient model:
"Round about the caldron go;
In the poisoned entrails throw.
Fillet of a fenny snake

In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and howlet's wing:
Maw of ravening salt-sea shark,

Root of hemlock digged in the dark," etc.
—Macbeth, Act IV., Scene 1
And again:
Macbeth. —What you do?
is't
Witches. —A deed without a name.
There is another story of Medea almost too revolting
for record even of a sorceress, a class of persons to
whom both ancient and modern poets have been accus-
tomed to attribute every degree of atrocity. In her
flight from Colchis she had taken her young brother
Absyrtus with her. Finding the pursuing vessels of
JEetes gaining upon the Argonauts, she caused the lad
to be killed and his limbs to be strewn over the sea.
JEttes on reaching the place found these sorrowful
traces of his murdered son; but while he tarried to
collect the scattered fragments and bestow upon them
an honorable interment, the Argonauts escaped.
In the poems of Campbell will be found a transla-

tion of one of the choruses of the tragedy of "Medea,"
where the poet Euripides has taken advantage of the
occasion to pay a glowing tribute to Athens, his native
city. It begins thus:
"O haggard queen to Athens dost thou guide

!
Thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore;

Or seek to hide thy damned parricide
Where peace and justice dwell for evermore?"
'
CHAPTER XVIII
MELEAGER AND ATALANTA
One of the heroes of the Argonautic expedition was

Meleager, son of CEneus and Althea, king and queen
of Calydon. Althea, when her son was born, beheld
the three destinies, who, as they spun their fatal thread,
foretold that the life of the child should last no longer
than a brand then burning upon the hearth. Althea
seized and quenched the brand, and carefully preserved
it for years, while Meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and
manhood. It chanced, then, that (Eneus, as he offered

sacrifices to the gods, omitted to pay due honors to
Diana; and she, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild
boar of enormous size to lay waste the fields of Caly-
don. Its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood
like threatening spears, its tusks were like those of In-
dian elephants. The growing corn was trampled, the
vines and olive trees laid waste, the flocks and herds
were driven in wild confusion by the slaughtering foe.
All common aid seemed vain; but Meleager called on
the heroes of Greece to join in a bold hunt for the
ravenous monster. Theseus and his friend Pirithous,
Jason, Peleus, afterwards the father of Achilles, Tela-
mon the father of Ajax, Nestor, then a youth, but who
in his age bore arms with Achilles and Ajax in the
—
Trojan war, these and many more joined in the enter-
prise. With them came Atalanta, the daughter of Iasius,
king of Arcadia. A buckle of polished gold confined her
vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her
left hand bore the bow. Her face blent feminine beauty
with the best graces of martial youth. Meleager saw
and loved.
But now already they were near the monster's lair.
They stretched strong nets from tree to tree; they un-
coupled their dogs, they tried to find the footprints of
their quarry in the grass. From the wood was a de-
scent to marshy ground. Here the boar, as he lay
MELEAGER AND ATALANTA 139
among the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and

rushed forth against them. One and another is thrown
down and slain. Jason throws his spear, with a prayer
to Diana for success; and the favoring goddess allows
the weapon to touch, but not to wound, removing the
steel point of the spear in its flight. Nestor, assailed,
seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree. Tela-
mon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls
prone. But an arrow from Atalanta at length for the
first time tastes the monster's blood. It is a slight wound,
but Meleager sees and joyfully proclaims it. Anceus,
excited to envy by the praise given to a female, loudly
proclaims his own valor, and defies alike the boar and
the goddess who had sent it; but as he rushes on, the
infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound.
Theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a
projecting bough. The dart of Jason misses its object,
and kills instead one of their own dogs. But Meleager,
after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear into the
monster's side, then rushes on and despatches him with
repeated blows.
Then rose a shout from those around they congratu-
;
lated the conqueror, crowding to touch his hand. He,

placing his foot upon the head of the slain boar, turned
to Atalanta and bestowed on her the head and the rough
hide which were the trophies of his success. But at
this, envy excited the rest to strife. Plexippus and
Toxeus, the brothers of Meleager's mother, beyond the
rest opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden
the trophy she had received. Meleager, kindling with
rage at the wrong done to himself, and still more at
the insult offered to her. whom he loved, forgot the
claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into the of-
fenders' hearts.
As Althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples
for the victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered
brothers met her sight. She shrieks, and beats her
breast, and hastens to change the garments of rejoicing
for those of mourning. But when the author of the
deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire of
vengeance on her son. The fatal brand, which once
!

she rescued from the flames, the brand which the des-
tinies had linked with Meleager's life, she brings forth,
and commands a fire to be prepared. Then four times
she essays to place the brand upon the pile; four times
draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringing de-
struction on her son. The feelings of the mother and
the sister contend within her. Now she is pale at the
thought of the proposed deed, now flushed again with
anger at the act of her son. As a vessel, driven in one
direction by the wind, and in the opposite by the tide,
the mind of Althea hangs suspended in uncertainty. But
now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins
as she holds the fatal wood: "Turn, ye Furies, god-
desses of punishment! turn to behold the sacrifice I
bring! Crime must atone for crime. Shall GEneus re-
joice in his victor son, while the house of Thestius is
desolate? But, alas! to what deed am I borne along?
Brothers forgive a mother's weakness my hand fails
!
me. He deserves death, but not that I should destroy

him. But shall he then live, and triumph, and reign
over Calydon, while you, my brothers, wander unavenged
among the shades ? No thou hast lived by my gift die,
! ;
now, for thine own crime. Return the life which twice
I gave thee, first at thy birth, again when I snatched
this brand from the flames. O that thou hadst then died
Alas! evil is the conquest; but, brothers, ye have con-
quered." And, turning away her face, she threw the
fatal wood upon the burning pile.
It gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. Meleager,
absent and unknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang.
He burns, and only by courageous pride conquers the
pain which destroys him. He mourns only that he per-
ishes by a bloodless and unhonored death. With his
last breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother,
and his fond sisters, upon his beloved Atalanta, and
upon his mother, the unknown cause of his fate. The
flames increase, and with them the pain of the hero.
Now both subside; now both are quenched. The brand
is ashes, and the life of Meleager is breathed forth to
the wandering winds.
Althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands
ATALANTA 141
upon herself. The sisters of Meleager mourned their

brother with uncontrollable grief till Diana, pitying the
;
sorrows of the house that once had aroused her anger,

turned them into birds.
ATALANTA
The innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden
whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl,
yet too girlish for a boy. Her fortune had been told,
and it was to this effect: "Atalanta, do not marry; mar-
riage will be your ruin." Terrified by this oracle, she
fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports
of the chase. To all suitors (for she had many) she
imposed a condition which was generally effectual in
relieving her of their persecutions,
—
"I will be the prize
of him who shall conquer me in the race but death must
;
be the penalty of all who try and fail." In spite of this

hard condition some would try. Hippomenes was to be
judge of the race. "Can it be possible that any will be
so rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. But
when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he
changed his mind, and said, "Pardon me, youths, I knew
not the prize you were competing for." As he surveyed
them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled with
envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win. While
such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. As
she ran she looked more beautiful than ever. The
breezes seemed to give wings to her feet; her hair flew
over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment
fluttered behind her. A ruddy hue tinged the whiteness
of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble
wall. All her competitors were distanced, and were put
to death without mercy. Hippomenes, not daunted by
this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "Why
boast of beating those laggards? I offer myself for the
contest." Atalanta looked at him with a pitying coun-
tenance, and hardly knew whether she would rather con-
quer him or not. "What god can tempt one so young
and handsome to throw himself away? I pity him, not
for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his youth.
I wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so
mad, I hope he may outrun me." While she hesitates,
revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient
for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare.
Then Hippomenes addressed a prayer to Venus "Help :
me, Venus, for you have led me on." Venus heard and
was propitious.
In the garden of her temple, in her own island of
Cyprus, is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches
and golden fruit. Hence she gathered three golden ap-
ples, and, unseen by any one else, gave them to Hippo-
menes, and told him how to use them. The signal is
given; each starts from the goal and skims over the
sand. So light their tread, you would almost have
thought they might run over the river surface or over
the waving grain without sinking. The cries of the
spectators cheered Hippomenes,
— "Now, now, do your
best haste, haste you gain on her relax not one more
! ! ! !
effort !" It was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden

heard these cries with the greater pleasure. But his
breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal
yet far off. At that moment he threw down one of the
golden apples. The virgin was all amazement. She
stopped to pick it up. Hippomenes shot ahead. Shouts
burst forth from all sides. She redoubled her efforts,
and soon overtook him. Again he threw an apple. She
stopped again, but again came up with him. The goal
was near; one chance only remained. "Now, goddess,"
said he, "prosper your gift!" and threw the last apple
off at one side. She looked at it, and hesitated; Venus
impelled her to turn aside for it. She did so, and was
vanquished. The youth carried off his prize.
But the lovers were so full of their own happiness
that they forgot to pay due honor to Venus and the;
goddess was provoked at their ingratitude. She caused

them to give offence to Cybele. That powerful goddess
was not to be insulted with impunity. She took from
them their human form and turned them into animals
of characters resembling their own: of the huntress-
heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made
a lioness, and of her lord and master a lion, and yoked
:
HERCULES 143
them to her car, where they are still to be seen in all

representations, in statuary or painting, of the goddess
Cybele.
Cybele the Latin name of the goddess called by

is
the Greeks Rhea and Ops. She was the wife of Cronos
and mother of Zeus. In works of art she exhibits the
matronly air which distinguishes Juno and Ceres. Some-
times she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at
her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by
lions. She wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose
rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements.
Her priests were called Corybantes.
Byron, in describing the city of Venice, which is built

on a low island in the Adriatic Sea, borrows an illus-
tration from Cybele:
"She looks a sea-Cybele fresh from ocean,

Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers."
— Childe Harold, IV.
In Moore's "Rhymes on the Road," the poet, speaking

of Alpine scenery, alludes to the story of Atalanta and
Hippomenes thus
"Even here, in this region of wonders, I find
That light-footed Fancy leaves Truth far behind,
Or at least, like Hippomenes, turns her astray
By the golden illusions he flings in her way."
CHAPTER XIX
HERCULES — HEBE AND GANYMEDE
HERCULES
Hercules was the son of Jupiter and Alcmena. As
Juno was always hostile to the offspring of her husband
by mortal mothers, she declared war against Hercules
from his birth. She sent two serpents to destroy him as
he lay in his cradle, but the precocious infant strangled
them with his own hands. He was, however, by the
arts of Juno rendered subject to Eurystheus and com-
pelled to perform all his commands. Eurystheus en-
joined upon him a succession of desperate adventures,
which are called the "Twelve Labors of Hercules." The
first was the fight with the Nemean lion. The valley
of Nemea was infested by a terrible lion. Eurystheus
ordered Hercules to bring him the skin of this monster.
After using in vain his club and arrows against the lion,
Hercules strangled the animal with his hands. He re-
turned carrying the dead lion on his shoulders; but
Eurystheus was so frightened at the sight of it and at
this proof of the prodigious strength of the hero, that
he ordered him to deliver the account of his exploits
in future outside the town.
His next labor was the slaughter of the Hydra. This
monster ravaged the country of Argos, and dwelt in a
swamp near the well of Amymone. This well had been
discovered by Amymone when the country was suffering
from drought, and the story was that Neptune, who loved
her, had permitted her to touch the rock with his trident,
and a spring of three outlets burst forth. Here the
Hydra took up his position, and Hercules was sent to
destroy him. The Hydra had nine heads, of which the
middle one was immortal. Hercules struck off its heads
with his club, but in the place of the head knocked off,
two new ones grew forth each time. At length with
the assistance of his faithful servant Iolaus, he burned
away the heads of the Hydra, and buried the ninth or
immortal one under a huge rock.
Another labor was the cleaning of the Augean stables.
Augeas, king of Elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen,
whose stalls had not been cleansed for thirty years. Her-
cules brought the rivers Alpheus and Peneus through
them, and cleansed them thoroughly in one day.
His next labor was of a more delicate kind. Admeta,
the daughter of Eurystheus, longed to obtain the girdle
of the queen of the Amazons, and Eurystheus ordered
Hercules to go and get it. The Amazons were a nation
HERCULES 145
of women. They were very warlike and held several

flourishing cities. It was their custom to bring up only
the female children; the boys were either sent away to
the neighboring nations or put to death. Hercules was
accompanied by a number of volunteers, and after vari-
ous adventures at last reached the country of the Ama-
zons. Hippolyta, the queen, received him kindly, and
consented to yield him her girdle, but Juno, taking the
form of an Amazon, went and persuaded the rest that
the strangers were carrying off their queen. They in-
stantly armed and came in great numbers down to the
ship. Hercules, thinking that Hippolyta had acted
treacherously, slew her, and taking her girdle made sail
homewards.
Another task enjoined him was to bring to Eurystheus
the oxen of Geryon, a monster with three bodies, who
dwelt in the island Erytheia (the red), so called because
it lay at the west, under the rays of the setting sun.
This description thought to apply to Spain, of which
is
Geryon was king. After traversing various countries,
Hercules reached at length the frontiers of Libya and
Europe, where he raised the two mountains of Calpe and
Abyla, as monuments of his progress, or, according to
another account, rent one mountain into two and left half
on each side, forming the straits of Gibraltar, the two
mountains being called the Pillars of Hercules. The
oxen were guarded by the giant Eurytion and his two-
headed dog, but Hercules killed the giant and his dog
and brought away the oxen in safety to Eurystheus.
The most difficult labor of all was getting the golden
apples of the Hesperides, for Hercules did not know
where to find them. These were the apples which Juno
had received at her wedding from the goddess of the
Earth, and which she had intrusted to the keeping of
the daughters of Hesperus, assisted by a watchful dragon.
After various adventures Hercules arrived at Mount
Atlas in Africa. Atlas was one of the Titans who had
warred against the gods, and after they were subdued,
Atlas was condemned to bear on his shoulders the weight
of the heavens. He was the father of the Hesperides,
and Hercules thought might, if any one could, find the
apples and bring them to him. But how to send Atlas
away from his post, or bear up the heavens while he
was gone? Hercules took the burden on his own shoul-
ders, and sent Atlas to seek the apples. He returned
with them, and though somewhat reluctantly, took his
burden upon his shoulders again, and let Hercules re-
turn with the apples to Eurystheus.
Milton, in his "Comus," makes the Hesperides the

daughters of Hesperus and nieces of Atlas:
". . amidst the gardens fair

.
Of Hesperas and his daughters three,

That sing about the golden tree." :
The poets, led by the analogy of the lovely appear-

ance of the western sky at sunset, viewed the west as
a region of brightness and glory. Hence they placed in
it the Isles of the Blest, the ruddy Isle Erythea, on
which the bright oxen of Geryon were pastured, and

the Isle of the Hesperides. The apples are supposed
by some to be the oranges of Spain, of which the Greeks
had heard some obscure accounts.
A celebrated exploit of Hercules was his victory over

Antaeus. Antaeus, the son of Terra, the Earth, was a
mighty giant and wrestler, whose strength was invincible
so long as he remained in contact with his mother Earth.
He compelled all strangers who came to his country to
wrestle with him, on condition that if conquered (as
they all were) they should be put to death. Hercules
encountered him, and finding that it was of no avail
to throw him, for he always rose with renewed strength
from every fall, he lifted him up from the earth and
strangled him in the air.
Cacus was a huge giant, who inhabited a cave on
Mount Aventine, and plundered the surrounding coun-
try. When Hercules was driving home the oxen of
Geryon, Cacus stole part of the cattle, while the hero
slept. That their footprints might not serve to show
where they had been driven, he dragged them back-
;
HERCULES 147
ward by so their tracks all seemed

their tails to his cave ;
to show had gone in the opposite direction.

that they
Hercules was deceived by this stratagem, and would have
failed to find his oxen, if it had not happened that in
driving the remainder of the herd past the cave where
the stolen ones were concealed, those within began to
low, and were thus discovered. Cacus was slain by
Hercules.
The last exploit we shall record was bringing Cerberus
from the lower world. Hercules descended into Hades,
accompanied by Mercury and Minerva. He obtained
permission from Pluto to carry Cerberus to the upper
air, provided he could do it without the use of weapons
and in spite of the monster's struggling, he seized him,
held him fast, and carried him to Eurystheus, and after-
wards brought him back again. When he was in Hades
he obtained the liberty of Theseus, his admirer and
imitator, who had been detained a prisoner there for an
unsuccessful attempt to carry off Proserpine.
Hercules in a fit of madness killed his friend Iphitus,
and was condemned for this offence to become the slave
of Queen Omphale for three years. While in this service
the hero's nature seemed changed. He lived effeminately,
wearing at times the dress of a woman, and spinning
wool with the hand-maidens of Omphale, while the queen
wore his lion's skin. When this service was ended
he married Dejanira and lived in peace with her three
years. On one occasion as he was travelling with his
wife, they came to a river, across which the Centaur
Nessus carried travellers for a stated fee. Hercules
himself forded the river, but gave Dejanira to Nessus
to be carried across. Nessus attempted to run away with
her, but Hercules heard her cries and shot an arrow
into the heart of Nessus. The dying Centaur told De-
janira to take a portion of his blood and keep it, as it
might be used as a charm to preserve the love of her
husband.
Dejanira did so and before long fancied she had occa-
sion to use it. Hercules in one of his conquests had
taken prisoner a fair maiden, named Iole, of whom he
seemed more fond than Dejanira approved. When Her-
:
148 STORTES OF GODS AND HEROES

cules was about to offer sacrifices to the gods in honor
of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white robe to
use on the occasion. Dejanira, thinking it a good oppor-
tunity to try her love-spell, steeped the garment in the
blood of Nessus. We are to suppose she took care
to wash out all traces of it, but the magic power re-
mained, and as soon as the garment became warm on
the body of Hercules the poison penetrated into all his
limbs and caused him the most intense agony. In his
frenzy he seized Lichas, who had brought him the fatal
robe, and hurled him into the sea. He wrenched off the
garment, but it stuck to his flesh, and with it he tore
away whole pieces of his body. In this state he em-
barked on board a ship and was conveyed home. Deja-
nira, on seeing what she had unwittingly done, hung
herself. Hercules, prepared to die, ascended Mount CEta,
where he built a funeral pile of trees, gave his bow and
arrows to Philoctetes, and laid himself down on the pile,
his head resting on his club, and his lion's skin spread
over him. With a countenance as serene as if he were
taking his place at a festal board he commanded Philoc-
tetes to apply the torch. The flames spread apace and
soon invested the whole mass.
Milton thus alludes to the frenzy of Hercules
"As when Alcides, 1 from CEchalia crowned

With conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore,
Through pain, up by the roots Thessalian pines
And Lichas from the top of CEta threw
Into the Euboic Sea."
The gods themselves felt troubled at seeing the cham-

pion of the earth so brought to his end. But Jupiter
with cheerful countenance thus addressed them: "I am
pleased to see your concern, my princes, and am gratified
to perceive that I am the ruler of a loyal people, and
that my son enjoys your favor. For although your in-
terest in him arises from his noble deeds, yet it is not
the less gratifying to me. But now I say to you, Fear
not. He who conquered all else is not to be conquered
1 Alcides, a name of Hercules.
:
HERCULES 149
by those flames which you see blazing on Mount (Eta.

Only his mother's share in him can perish; what he
derived from me is immortal. I shall take him, dead
to earth, to the heavenly shores, and I require of you
all to receive him kindly. If any of you feel grieved
at his attaining this honor, yet no one can deny that he
has deserved it." The gods all gave their assent Juno ;
only heard the closing words with some displeasure that

she should be so particularly pointed at, yet not enough
to make her regret the determination of her husband.
So when the flames had consumed the mother's share
of Hercules, the diviner part, instead of being injured
thereby, seemed to start forth with new vigor, to assume
a more lofty port and a more awful dignity. Jupiter
enveloped him in a cloud, and took him up in a four-
horse chariot to dwell among the stars. As he took his
place in heaven, Atlas felt the added weight.
Juno, now reconciled to him, gave him her daughter
Hebe in marriage.
The poet Schiller, in one of his pieces called the "Ideal

and Life," illustrates the contrast between the practical
and the imaginative in some beautiful stanzas, of which
the last two may be thus translated
"Deep degraded to a coward's slave,

Endless contests bore Alcides brave,
Through the thorny path of suffering led;
Slew the Hydra, crushed the lion's might,
Threw himself, to bring his friend to light,
Living, in the skiff that bears the dead.
All the torments, every toil of earth
Juno's hatred on him could impose,
Well he bore them, from his fated birth
To life's grandly mournful close.
"Till the god, the earthly part forsaken,

From the man in flames asunder taken,
Drank the heavenly ether's purer breath.
Joyous in the new unwonted lightness,
Soared he upwards to celestial brightness,
Earth's dark heavy burden lost in death.
High Olympus gives harmonious greeting
To the hall where reigns his sire adored;
Youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting,
Gives the nectar to her lord." —
5". G. B.
:
HEBE AND GANYMEDE

Hebe, the daughter of Juno, and goddess of youth,
was cup-bearer to the gods. The usual story is that
she resigned her office on becoming the wife of Her-
cules. But there is another statement which our coun-
tryman Crawford, the sculptor, has adopted in his group
of Hebe and Ganymede, now in the Athenaeum gallery.
According to this, Hebe was dismissed from her office
in consequence of a fall which she met with one day
when in attendance on the gods. Her successor was
Ganymede, a Trojan boy, whom Jupiter, in the disguise
of an eagle, seized and carried off from the midst of
his playfellows on Mount Ida, bore up to heaven, and
installed in the vacant place.
Tennyson, in his "Palace of Art," describes among

the decorations on the walls a picture representing this
legend
"There, too, flushed Ganymede, his rosy thigh
Half buried in the eagle's down,
Sole as a flying star shot through the sky
Above the pillared town."
And in Shelley's "Prometheus" Jupiter calls to his

cup-bearer thus:
"Pour forth heaven's wine, Idaean Ganymede,
And let it fill the Daedal cups like fire."
The beautiful legend of the "Choice of Hercules" may

be found in the "Tatler," No. 97.
CHAPTER XX
THESEUS —D^DALUS— CASTOR AND POLLUX
THESEUS
Theseus was the son of Êgeus, king of Athens, and
of Êthra, daughter of the king of Troezen. He was
brought up at Troezen, and when arrived at manhood
was to proceed to Athens and present himself to his
THESEUS 151
father. yEgeus on parting from Êthra, before the birth

of his son, placed his sword and shoes under a large
stone and directed her to send his son to him when he
became strong enough to roll away the stone and take
them from under it. When she thought the time had
come, his mother led Theseus to the stone, and he re-
moved it with ease and took the sword and shoes. As
the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather
pressed him earnestly to take the shorter and safer way
to his father's country — by sea; but the youth, feeling
in himself the spirit and the soul of a hero, and eager
to signalize himself like Hercules, with whose fame all
Greece then rang, by destroying the evil-doers and mon-
sters that oppressed the country, determined on the
more perilous and adventurous journey by land.
His first day's journey brought him to Epidaurus,
where dwelt a man named Periphetes, a son of Vulcan.
This ferocious savage always went armed with a club
of iron, and all travellers stood in terror of his violence.
When he saw Theseus approach he assailed him, but
speedily fell beneath the blows of the young hero, who
took possession of his club and bore it ever afterwards
as a memorial of his first victory.
Several similar contests with the petty tyrants and
marauders of the country followed, in all of which
Theseus was victorious. One of these evil-doers was
called Procrustes, or the Stretcher. He had an iron
bedstead, on which he used to tie all travellers who
fell into his hands. If they were shorter than the bed,
he stretched their limbs to make them fit it; if they
were longer than the bed, he lopped off a portion. The-
seus served him as he had served others.
Having overcome all the perils of the road, Theseus
at length reached Athens, where new dangers awaited
him. Medea, the sorceress, who had fled from Corinth
after her separation from Jason, had become the wife
of Êgeus, the father of Theseus. Knowing by her arts
who he was, and fearing the loss of her influence with
her husband if Theseus should be acknowledged as his
son, she filled the mind of iEgeus with suspicions of
the young stranger, and induced him to present him a
cup of poison; but at the moment when Theseus stepped
\
forward to take the sight of the sword which he

it,
wore discovered to his father who he was, and prevented

the fatal draught. Medea, detected in her arts, fled
once more from deserved punishment, and arrived in
Asia, where the country afterwards called Media re-
ceived its name from her. Theseus was acknowledged
by his father, and declared his successor.
The Athenians were at that time in deep affliction, on
account of the tribute which they were forced to pay
to Minos, king of Crete. This tribute consisted of
seven youths and seven maidens, who were sent every
year to be devoured by the Minotaur, a monster with
a bull's body and a human head. It was exceedingly
strong and fierce, and was kept in a labyrinth constructed
by Daedalus, so artfully contrived that whoever was en-
closed in it could by no means find his way out unas-
sisted. Here the Minotaur roamed, and was fed with
human victims.
Theseus resolved to deliver his countrymen from
Accordingly, when
this calamity, or to die in the attempt.
the time of sending off the tribute came, and the youths
and maidens were, according to custom, drawn by lot to
be sent, he offered himself as one of the victims, in
spite of the entreaties of his father. The ship departed
under black sails, as usual, which Theseus promised his
father to change for white, in case of his returning vic-
torious. When they arrived in Crete, the youths and
maidens were exhibited before Minos and Ariadne, the ;
daughter of the king, being present, became deeply enam-

ored of Theseus, by whom her love was readily returned.
She furnished him with a sword, with which to encoun-
ter the Minotaur, and with a clew of thread by which he
might find his way out of the labyrinth. He was suc-
cessful, slew the Minotaur, escaped from the labyrinth,
and taking Ariadne as the companion of his way, with his
rescued companions sailed for Athens. On their way
they stopped at the island of Naxos, where Theseus
abandoned Ariadne, leaving her asleep. 1 His excuse for
1 One of the finest pieces of sculpture in Italy, the recumbent Ariadne
of the Vatican, represents this incident. A copy is owned by the
Athenaeum, Boston, and deposited in the Museum of Fine Arts.
THESEUS 153
this ungrateful treatment of his benefactress was that

Minerva appeared to him in a dream and commanded him
to do so.
On approaching the coast of Attica, Theseus forgot
the signal appointed by his father, and neglected to raise
the white sails, and the old king, thinking his son had
perished, put an end to his own life. Theseus thus became
king of Athens.
One of the most celebrated of the adventures of The-
seus is his expedition against the Amazons. He assailed
them before they had recovered from the attack of
Hercules, and carried off their queen Antiope. The
Amazons in their turn invaded the country of Athens and
penetrated into the city itself and the final battle in
;
which Theseus overcame them was fought in the very

midst of the city. This battle was one of the favorite
subjects of the ancient sculptors, and is commemorated
in several works of art that are still extant.
The friendship between Theseus and Pirithous was
of a most intimate nature, yet it originated in the midst
of arms. Pirithous had made an irruption into the plain
of Marathon, and carried off the herds of the king of
Athens. Theseus went to repel the plunderers. The
moment Pirithous beheld him, he was seized with admi-
ration he stretched out his hand as a token of peace,
;
—
and cried, "Be judge thyself what satisfaction dost thou
require?" 'Thy friendship," replied the Athenian, and
they swore inviolable fidelity. Their deeds corresponded
to their professions, and they ever continued true brothers
in arms. Each of them aspired to espouse a daughter
of Jupiter. Theseus fixed his choice on Helen, then but
a child, afterwards so celebrated as the cause of the
Trojan war, and with the aid of his friend he carried
her off. Pirithous aspired to the wife of the monarch
of Erebus and Theseus, though aware of the danger,
;
accompanied the ambitious lover in his descent to the

under-world. But Pluto seized and set them on an en-
chanted rock at his palace gate, where they remained
till Hercules arrived and liberated Theseus, leaving Pi-
rithous to his fate.

After the death of Antiope, Theseus married Phae-
dra, daughter of Minos, king of Crete. Phsedra saw in
Hippolytus, the son of Theseus, a youth endowed with
all the graces and virtues of his father, and of an age
corresponding to her own. She loved him, but he re-
pulsed her advances, and her love was changed to hate.
She used her influence over her infatuated husband to
cause him to be jealous of his son, and he imprecated the
vengeance of Neptune upon him. As Hippolytus was one
day driving his chariot along the shore, a sea-monster
raised himself above the waters, and frightened the
horses so that they ran away and dashed the chariot to
pieces. Hippolytus was killed, but by Diana's assistance
yEsculapius restored him to life. Diana removed Hip-
polytus from the power of his deluded father and false
stepmother, and placed him in Italy under the protection
of the nymph Egeria.
Theseus at length lost the favor of his people, and
retired to the court of Lycomedes, king of Scyros, who
at first received him kindly, but afterwards treacherously
slew him. In a later age the Athenian general Cimon
discovered the place where his remains were laid, and
caused them to be removed to Athens, where they were
deposited in a temple called the Theseum, erected in
honor of the hero.
The queen of the Amazons whom Theseus espoused

is by some called Hippolyta. That is the name she bears
in Shakspeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream," the —
subject of which is the festivities attending the nup-
tials of Theseus and Hippolyta.
Mrs. Hemans has a poem on the ancient Greek tra-'
dition that the "Shade of Theseus" appeared strength-
ening his countrymen at the battle of Marathon.
Theseus is a semi-historical personage. It is record-
ed of him that he united the several tribes by whom
the territory of Attica was then possessed into one
state, of which Athens was the capital. In commemora-
tion of this important event, he instituted the festival
of Panathensea, in honor of Minerva, the patron deity
of Athens. This festival differed from the other Gre-
cian games chiefly in two particulars. It was peculiar
OLYMPIC AND OTHER GAMES 155
to the Athenians, and its chief feature was a solemn

procession in which the Peplus, or sacred robe of
Minerva, was carried to the Parthenon, and suspended
before the statue of the goddess. The Peplus was cov-
ered with embroidery, worked by select virgins of the
noblest families in Athens. The procession consisted of
persons of all ages and both sexes. The old men car-
ried olive branches in their hands, and the young men
bore arms. The young women carried baskets on their
heads, containing the sacred utensils, cakes, and all
things necessary for the sacrifices. The procession
formed the subject of the bas-reliefs which embellished
the outside of the temple of the Parthenon. A con-
siderable portion of these sculptures is now in the Brit-
ish Museum among those known as the "Elgin marbles."
OLYMPIC AND OTHER GAMES

It seems not inappropriate to mention here the other
celebrated national games of the Greeks. The first and
most distinguished were the Olympic, founded, it was
said, by Jupiter himself. They were celebrated at Olym-
pia in Elis. Vast numbers of spectators flocked to them
from every part of Greece, and from Asia, Africa, and
Sicily. They were repeated every fifth year in mid-
summer, and continued five days. They gave rise to
the custom of reckoning time and dating events by
Olympiads. The first Olympiad is generally consid-
ered as corresponding with the year 776 B.C. The
Pythian games were celebrated in the vicinity of Delphi,
the Isthmian on the Corinthian isthmus, the Nemean at
Nemea, a city of Argolis.
The exercises in these games were of five sorts: run-
ning, leaping, wrestling, throwing the quoit, and hurl-
ing the javelin, or boxing. Besides these exercises of
bodily strength and agility, there were contests in music,
poetry, and eloquence. Thus these games furnished
poets, musicians, and authors the best opportunities to
present their productions to the public, and the fame of
the victors was diffused far and wide.
MDALUS
The labyrinth from which Theseus escaped by means
of the clew of Ariadne was built by Daedalus, a most
skilful artificer. It was an edifice with numberless wind-
ing passages and turnings opening into one another, and
seeming to have neither beginning nor end, like the river
Maeander, which returns on itself, and flows now on-
ward, now backward, in its course to the sea. Daedalus
built the labyrinth for King Minos, but afterwards lost
the favor of the king, and was shut up in a tower. He
contrived to make his escape from his prison, but could
not leave the island by sea, as the king kept strict watch
on all the vessels, and permitted none to sail without
being carefully searched. "Minos may control the land
and sea," said Daedalus, "but not the regions of the air.
I will try that way." So he set to work to fabricate
wings for himself and his young son Icarus. He
wrought feathers together, beginning with the smallest
and adding larger, so as to form an increasing surface.
The larger ones he secured with thread and the smaller
with wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like
the wings of a bird. Icarus, the boy, stood and looked
on, sometimes running to gather up the feathers which
the wind had blown away, and then handling the wax
and working it over with his fingers, by his play im-
peding his father in his labors. When at last the work
was done, the artist, waving his wings, found himself
buoyed upward, and hung suspended, poising himself on
the beaten air. He next equipped his son in the same
manner, and taught him how to fly, as a bird tempts her
young ones from the lofty nest into the air. When all
was prepared for flight he said, "Icarus, my son, I
charge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you
fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too
high the heat will melt them. Keep near me and you
will be safe." While he gave him these instructions and
fitted the wings to his shoulders, the face of the father
was wet with tears, and his hands trembled. He kissed
the boy, not knowing that it was for the last time. Then
rising on his wings, he flew off, encouraging him to fol-
D^DALUS 157
low, and looked back from his own flight to see how
his son managed his wings. As they flew the plough-
man stopped his work to gaze, and the shepherd leaned
on his staff and watched them, astonished at the sight,
and thinking they were gods who could thus cleave
the air.
They passed Samos and Delos on the left and Leb-
ynthos on the right, when the boy, exulting in his ca-
reer, began to leave the guidance of his companion and
soar upward as if to reach heaven. The nearness of
the blazing sun softened the wax which held the feathers
together, and they came off. He fluttered with his arms,
but no feathers remained to hold the air. While his
mouth uttered cries to his father it was submerged in
the blue waters of the sea, which thenceforth was called
by his name. His father cried, "Icarus, Icarus, where
are you?" At last he saw the feathers floating on the
water, and bitterly lamenting his own arts, he buried
the body and called the land Icaria in memory of his
child. Daedalus arrived safe in Sicily, where he built
a temple to Apollo, and hung up his wings, an offering
to the god.
Daedalus was so proud of his achievements that he
could not bear the idea of a rival. His sister had placed
her son Perdix under his charge to be taught the me-
chanical arts. He was an apt scholar and gave strik-
ing evidences of ingenuity. Walking on the seashore
he picked up the spine of a fish. Imitating it, he took
a piece of iron and notched it on the edge, and thus
invented the saw. He put two pieces of iron together,
connecting them at one end with a rivet, and sharpen-
ing the other ends, and made a pair of compasses.
Daedalus was so envious of his nephew's performances
that he took an opportunity, when they were together
one day on the top of a high tower, to push him off.
But Minerva, who favors ingenuity, saw him falling,
and arrested his fate by changing him into a bird called
after his name, the Partridge. This bird does not build
his nest in the trees, nor take lofty flights, but nestles
in the hedges, and mindful of his fall, avoids high
places.
: ;

The death of Icarus is told in the following lines by
Darwin
". . . with melting wax and loosened strings
Sunk hapless Icarus on unfaithful wings
Headlong he rushed through the affrighted air,
With limbs distorted and dishevelled hair;
His scattered plumage danced upon the wave,
And sorrowing Nereids decked his watery grave;
O'er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed,
And strewed with crimson moss his marble bed;
Struck in their coral towers the passing bell,
And wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell."
CASTOR AND POLLUX

Castor and Pollux were the offspring of Leda and
the Swan, under which disguise Jupiter had concealed
himself. Leda gave birth to an egg from which sprang
the twins. Helen, so famous afterwards as the cause
of the Trojan war, was their sister.
When Theseus and his friend Pirithous had carried
off Helen from Sparta, the youthful heroes Castor and
Pollux, with their followers, hastened to her rescue.
Theseus was absent from Attica and the brothers were
successful in recovering their sister.
Castor was famous for taming and managing horses,
and Pollux for skill in boxing. They were united by
the warmest affection and inseparable in all their en-
terprises. They accompanied the Argonautic expedition.
During the voyage a storm arose, and Orpheus prayed
to the Samothracian gods, and played on his harp,
whereupon the storm ceased and stars appeared on the
heads of the brothers. From this incident, Castor and
Pollux came afterwards to be considered the patron
deities of seamen and voyagers, and the lambent flames,
which in certain states of the atmosphere play round the
sails and masts of vessels, were called by their names.
After the Argonautic expedition, we find Castor and
Pollux engaged in a war with Idas and Lynceus. Cas-
tor was slain, and Pollux, inconsolable for the loss of
his brother, besought Jupiter to be permitted to give
his own life as a ransom for him. Jupiter so far con-
:
CASTOR AND POLLUX 159
sented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon

of life alternately, passing one day under the earth and
the next in the heavenly abodes. According to another
form of the story, Jupiter rewarded the attachment of
the brothers by placing them among the stars as Gemini
the Twins.
They received divine honors under the name of
Dioscuri (sons of Jove). They were believed to have
appeared occasionally in later times, taking part with
one side or the other, in hard-fought fields, and were
said on such occasions to be mounted on magnificent
white steeds. Thus in the early history of Rome they
are said to have assisted the Romans at the battle of
Lake Regillus, and after the victory a temple was erected
in their honor on the spot where they appeared.
Macaulay, in his "Lays of Ancient Rome," thus al-

ludes to the legend
"So like they were, no mortal

Might one from other know;
White as snow their armor was,
Their steeds were white as snow.
Never on earthly anvil
Did such rare armor gleam,
And never did such gallant steeds
Drink of an earthly stream.
"Back comes the chief in triumph

Who in the hour of fight
Hath seen the great Twin Brethren
In harness on his right.
Safe comes the ship to haven,
Through billows and through gales.
If once the great Twin Brethren
Sit shining on the sails."
CHAPTER XXI
BACCHUS —ARIADNE
BACCHUS
Bacchus was the son of Jupiter and Semele. Juno,
to gratify her resentment against Semele, contrived a
plan for her destruction. Assuming the form of Beroe,
her aged nurse, she insinuated doubts whether it was
indeed Jove himself who came as a lover. Heaving a
sigh, she said, "I hope it will turn out so, but I can't
help being afraid. People are not always what they
pretend to be. If he is indeed Jove, make him give
some proof of it. Ask him to come arrayed in all his
splendors, such as he wears in heaven. That will put
the matter beyond a doubt.'' Semele was persuaded to
try the experiment. She asks a favor, without nam-
ing what it is. Jove gives his promise, and confirms it
with the irrevocable oath, attesting the river Styx, ter-
rible to the gods themselves. Then she made known her
request. The god would have stopped her as she spake,
but she was too quick for him. The words escaped,
and he could neither unsay his promise nor her request.
In deep distress he left her and returned to the upper
regions. There he clothed himself in his splendors, not
putting on all his terrors, as when he overthrew the
giants, but what is known among the gods as his lesser
panoply. Arrayed in this, he entered the chamber of
Semele. Her mortal frame could not endure the splen-
dors of the immortal radiance. She was consumed to
ashes.
Jove took the infant Bacchus and gave him in charge
to the Nyssean nymphs, who nourished his infancy and
childhood, and for their care were rewarded by Jupiter
by being placed, as the Hyades, among the stars. When
Bacchus grew up he discovered the culture of the vine
and the mode of extracting its precious juice; but Juno
struck him with madness, and drove him forth a wan-
derer through various parts of the earth. In Phrygia
:
BACCHUS 161
the godacss Rhea cured him and taught him her re-
ligious rites, and heout on a progress through Asia,
set
teaching the people the cultivation of the vine. The
most famous part of his wanderings is his expedition to
India, which is said to have lasted several years. Re-
turning in triumph, he undertook to introduce his wor-
ship into Greece, but was opposed by some princes, who
dreaded its introduction on account of the disorders and
madness it brought with it.
As he approached his native city Thebes, Pentheus
the king, who had no respect for the new worship, for-
bade its rites to be performed. But when it was known
that Bacchus was advancing, men and women, but
chiefly the latter, young and old, poured forth to meet
him and to join his triumphal march.
Mr. Longfellow in his "Drinking Song" thus describes

themarch of Bacchus
"Fauns with youthful Bacchus follow;
Ivy crowns that brow, supernal
As the forehead of Apollo,
And possessing youth eternal.
"Round about him fair Bacchantes,
Bearing cymbals, flutes and thyrses,
Wild from Naxian groves of Zante's
Vineyards, sing delirious verses."
It was in vain Pentheus remonstrated, commanded,

and threatened. "Go," said he to his attendants, "seize
this vagabond leader of the rout and bring him to me.
I will soon make him confess his false claim of heavenly
parentage and renounce his counterfeit worship." It was
in vain his nearest friends and wisest counsellors remon-
strated and begged him not to oppose the god. Their
remonstrances only made him more violent.
But now the attendants returned whom he had de-
spatched to seize Bacchus. They had been driven away
by the Bacchanals, but had succeeded in taking one of
them prisoner, whom, with his hands tied behind him,
they brought before the king. Pentheus, beholding him
with wrathful countenance, said, "Fellow! you shall
speedily be put to death, that your fate may be a warn-

ing to others; but though I grudge the delay of your
punishment, speak, tell us who you are, and what are
these new rites you presume to celebrate."
The prisoner, unterrified, responded, "My name is
Acetes; my country is Mseonia; my parents were poor
people, who had no fields or flocks to leave me, but
they left me their fishing rods and nets and their fisher-
man's trade. This I followed for some time, till grow-
ing weary of remaining in one place, I learned the pilot's
art and how to guide my course by the stars. It hap-
pened as I was sailing for Delos we touched at the
island of Dia and went ashore. Next morning I sent
the men for fresh water, and myself mounted the hill
to observe the wind; when my men returned bringing
with them a prize, as they thought, a boy of delicate
appearance, whom they had found asleep. They judged
he was a noble youth, perhaps a king's son, and they
might get a liberal ransom for him. I observed his
dress, his walk, his face. There was something in them
which I felt sure was more than mortal. I said to my
men, 'What god there is concealed in that form I know
not, but some one there certainly is. Pardon us, gentle
deity, for the violence we have done you, and give suc-
cess to our undertakings.' Dictys, one of my best hands
for climbing the mast and coming down by the ropes,
and Melanthus, my steersman, and Epopeus, the leader
of the sailor's cry, one and all exclaimed, 'Spare your
prayers for us.' So blind is the lust of gain! When
they proceeded to put him on board I resisted them.
'This ship shall not be profaned by such impiety/ said
I. 'I have a greater share in her than any of you.' But
Lycabas, a turbulent fellow, seized me by the throat
and attempted to throw me overboard, and I scarcely
saved myself by clinging to the ropes. The rest ap-
proved the deed.
"Then Bacchus (for it was indeed he), as if shaking
off his drowsiness, exclaimed, 'What are you doing with
me? What is this fighting about? Who brought me
here? Where are you going to carry me?' One of
them replied, 'Fear nothing; tell us where you wish
BACCHUS 163
to go and we will take you there/ 'Naxos is my home,'

said Bacchus; 'take me there and you shall be well re-
warded.' They promised so to do, and told me to pilot
the ship to Naxos. Naxos lay to the right, and I was
trimming the sails to carry us there, when some by signs
and others by whispers signified to me their will that I
should sail in the opposite direction, and take the boy
to Egypt to sell him for a slave. I was confounded and
said, 'Let some one else pilot the ship ;' withdrawing my-
self from any further agency in their wickedness. They
cursed me, and one of them, exclaiming, 'Don't flatter
yourself that we depend on you for our safety,' took
my place as pilot, and bore away from Naxos.
"Then the god, pretending that he had just become
aware of their treachery, looked out over the sea and
said in a voice of weeping, 'Sailors, these are not the
shores you promised to take me to; yonder island is
not my home. What have I done that you should treat
me so? It is small glory you will gain by cheating a
poor boy/ I wept to hear him, but the crew laughed
at both of us, and sped the vessel fast over the sea. All
at once — —
strange as it may seem, it is true, the vessel
stopped, in the mid sea, as fast as if it was fixed on
the ground. The men, astonished, pulled at their oars,
and spread more sail, trying to make progress by the
aid of both, but all in vain. Ivy twined round the oars
and hindered their motion, and clung to the sails, with
heavy clusters of berries. A
vine, laden with grapes,
ran up the mast, and along the sides of the vessel. The*
sound of flutes was heard and the odor of fragrant wine
spread all around. The god himself had a chaplet of
vine leaves, and bore in his hand a spear wreathed with
ivy. Tigers crouched at his feet, and forms of lynxes
and spotted panthers played around him. The men were
seized with terror or madness; some leaped overboard;
others preparing to do the same beheld their compan-
ions in the water undergoing a change, their bodies
becoming flattened and ending in a crooked tail. One
exclaimed, 'What miracle is this and as he spoke his
!'
mouth widened, his nostrils expanded, and scales cov-

ered all his body. Another, endeavoring to pull the oar,
felt his hands shrink up and presently to be no longer

hands but fins; another, trying to raise his arms to a
rope, found he had no arms, and curving his mutilated
body, jumped into the sea. What had been his legs
became the two ends of a crescent-shaped tail. The
whole crew became dolphins and swam about the ship,
now upon the surface, now under it, scattering the
spray, and spouting the water from their broad nostrils.
Of twenty men I alone was left. Trembling with fear,
the god cheered me. Tear not/ said he 'steer towards ;
Naxos/ I obeyed, and when we arrived there, I kindled

the altars and celebrated the sacred rites of Bacchus."
Pentheus here exclaimed, "We have wasted time
enough on this silly story. Take him away and have
him executed without delay." Acetes was led away by
the attendants and shut up fast in prison; but while
they were getting ready the instruments of execution
the prison doors came open of their own accord and the
chains fell from his limbs, and when they looked for
him he was nowhere to be found.
Pentheus would take no warning, but instead of send-
ing others, determined to go himself to the scene of
the solemnities. The mountain Citheron was all alive
with worshippers, and the cries of the Bacchanals re-
sounded on every side. The noise roused the anger of
Pentheus as the sound of a trumpet does the fire of
a war-horse. He penetrated through the wood and
reached an open space where the chief scene of the
orgies met his eyes. At the same moment the women
saw him; and first among them his own mother, Agave,
blinded by the god, cried out, "See there the wild boar,
the hugest monster that prowls in these woods! Come
on, sisters ! I will be the first to strike the wild boar."
The whole band rushed upon him, and while he now
talks less arrogantly, now excuses himself, and now con-
fesses his crime and implores pardon, they press upon
him and wound him. In vain he cries to his aunts to
protect him from his mother. Autonoe seized one arm,
Ino the other, and between them he was torn to pieces,
while his mother shouted, "Victory! Victory! we have
!"
done it ; the glory is ours
ARIADNE 165
So the worship of Bacchus was established in Greece.
There is an allusion to the story of Bacchus and^the

mariners in Milton's "Comus," at line 46. The story
of Circe will be found in Chapter XXIX.
"Bacchus that first from out the purple grapes

Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine,
After the Tuscan mariners transformed,
Coasting the Tyrrhene shore as the winds listed
On Circe's island fell (who knows not Circe,
The daughter of the Sun ? whose charmed cup
Whoever tasted lost his upright shape,
And downward fell into a grovelling swine)."
ARIADNE
We have seen in the story of Theseus how Ariadne,
the daughter of King Minos, after helping Theseus to
escape from the labyrinth, was carried by him to the
island of Naxos and was left there asleep, while the un-
grateful Theseus pursued his way home without her.
Ariadne, on waking and finding herself deserted, aban-
doned herself to grief. But Venus took pity on her, and
consoled her with the promise that she should have an
immortal lover, instead of the mortal one she had lost.
The island where Ariadne was left was the favorite
island of Bacchus, the same that he wished the Tyrrhe-
nian mariners to carry him to, when they so treacher-
ously attempted to make prize of him. As Ariadne sat
lamenting her fate, Bacchus found her, consoled her,
and made her his wife. As a marriage present he gave
her a golden crown, enriched with gems, and when she
died, he took her crown and threw it up into the sky.
As it mounted the gems grew brighter and were turned
into stars, and preserving its form Ariadne's crown re-
mains fixed in the heavens as a constellation, between
the kneeling Hercules and the man who holds the ser-
pent.
Spenser alludes to Ariadne's crown, though he has

made some mistakes in his mythology. It was at the
wedding of Pirithous, and not Theseus, that the Cen-
taurs and Lapithae quarrelled.
"Look how the crown which Ariadne wore

Upon her ivory forehead that same day
That Theseus her unto his bridal bore,
Then the bold Centaurs made that bloody fray
With the fierce Lapiths which did them dismay;
Being now placed in the firmament,
Through the bright heaven doth her beams display,
And is unto the stars an ornament,
Which round about her move in order excellent."
CHAPTER XXII
—
THE RURAL DEITIES ERISICHTHON RHOECUS — —THE
—
WATER DEITIES CAMENÊ WINDS
THE RURAL DEITIES
Pan, the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shep-

herds, dwelt in grottos, wandered on the mountains and
in valleys, and amused himself with the chase or in
leading the dances of the nymphs. He was fond of
music, and as we have seen, the inventor of the syrinx,
or shepherd's pipe, which he himself played in a mas-
terly manner. Pan, like other gods who dwelt in for-
ests, was dreaded by those whose occupations caused
them to pass through the woods by night, for the gloom
and loneliness of such scenes dispose the mind to su-
perstitious fears. Hence sudden fright without any
visible cause was ascribed to Pan, and called a Panic
terror.
As the name of the god signifies all, Pan came to be
considered a symbol of the universe and personification
of Nature; and later still to be regarded as a represen-
tative of all the gods and of heathenism itself.
Sylvanus and Faunus were Latin divinities, whose
characteristics are so nearly the same as those of Pan
that we may safely consider them as the same person-
age under different names.
:
THE RURAL DEITIES 167
The wood-nymphs, Pan's partners in the dance, were

but one class of nymphs. There were beside them the
Naiads, who presided over brooks and fountains, the
Oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottos, and the Ne-
reids, sea-nymphs. The three last named were immor-
tal, but the wood-nymphs, called Dryads or Hamadryads,
were believed to perish with the trees which had been
their abode and with which they had come into exist-
ence. It was therefore an impious act wantonly to de-
stroy a tree, and in some aggravated cases were severely
punished, as in the instance of Erisichthon, which we
are about to record.
Milton in his glowing description of the early cre-

ation,thus alludes to Pan as the personification of
Nature
". Universal Pan,
. .
Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance,

Led on the eternal spring."
And describing Eve's abode:
". . . In shadier bower,

More sacred or sequestered, though but feigned,
Pan or Sylvanus never slept, nor nymph
Nor Faunus haunted."
—Paradise Lost, B. IV.
It was a pleasing trait in the old Paganism that it

loved to trace in every operation of nature the agency
of deity. The imagination of the Greeks peopled all
the regions of earth and sea with divinities, to whose
agency it attributed those phenomena which our phi-
losophy ascribes to the operation of the laws of nature.
Sometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed to
regret the change, and to think that the heart has lost
as much as the head has gained by the substitution. The
poet Wordsworth thus strongly expresses this senti-
ment:
". Great God, I'd rather be
. .
A Pagan, suckled in a creed outworn,

So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
:

Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea,
And hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn."
Schiller, in his poem "Die Gotter Griechenlands," ex-

presses his regret for the overthrow of the beautiful
mythology of ancient times in a way which has called
forth an answer from a Christian poet, Mrs. E. Bar-
rett Browning, in her poem called "The Dead Pan."
The two following verses are a specimen:
"By your beauty which confesses

Some chief Beauty conquering you,
By our grand heroic guesses
Through your falsehood at the True,
We will weep not! earth shall roll
Heir to each god's aureole,
And Pan is dead.
"Earth outgrows the mythic fancies

Sung beside her in her youth;
And those debonaire romances
Sound but dull beside the truth.
Phcebus' chariot course is run!
Look up, poets, to the sun!
Pan, Pan is dead."
These lines are founded on an early Christian tra-

dition that when the heavenly host told the shepherds
at Bethlehem of the birth of Christ, a deep groan, heard
through all the isles of Greece, told that the great Pan
was dead, and that all the royalty of Olympus was
dethroned and the several deities were sent wandering
in cold and darkness. So Milton in his "Hymn on the
Nativity"
"Thelonely mountains o'er,

And the resounding shore,
A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;
From haunted spring and dale,
Edged with poplar pale,
The parting Genius is with sighing sent;
With flower-enwoven tresses torn,
The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn."
ERISICHTHON 169
ERISICHTHON
Erisichthon was a profane person and a despiser of
the gods. On one occasion he presumed to violate with
the axe a grove sacred to Ceres. There stood in this
grove a venerable oak so large that it seemed a wood
in itself, its ancient trunk towering aloft, whereon vo-
tive garlands were often hung and inscriptions carved
expressing the gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of
the tree. Often had the Dryads danced round it hand
in hand. Its trunk measured fifteen cubits round, and
it overtopped the other trees as they overtopped the
shrubbery. But for all that, Erisichthon saw no reason
why he should spare it and he ordered his servants to
cut it down. When he saw them hesitate he snatched
an axe from one, and thus impiously exclaimed "I care
:
not whether it be a tree beloved of the goddess or not;

were it the goddess herself it should come down if it
stood in my way." So saying, he lifted the axe and the
oak seemed to shudder and utter a groan. When the
first blow fell upon the trunk blood flowed from the
wound. All the bystanders were horror-struck, and one
of them ventured to remonstrate and hold back the fatal
axe. Erisichthon, with a scornful look, said to him,
"Receive the reward of your piety;" and turned against
him the weapon which he had held aside from the tree,
gashed his body with many wounds, and cut off his
head. Then from the midst of the oak came a voice,
"I who dwell in this tree am a nymph beloved of Ceres,
and dying by your hands forewarn you that punish-
ment awaits you." He desisted not from his crime, and
at last the tree, sundered by repeated blows and drawn
by ropes, fell with a crash and prostrated a great part
of the grove in its fall.
The Dryads in dismay at the loss of their compan-
ion and at seeing the pride of the forest laid low, went
in a body to Ceres, all clad in garments of mourning,
and invoked punishment upon Erisichthon. She nod-
ded her assent, and as she bowed her head the grain
ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also. She
planned a punishment so dire that one would pity him,
if such a culprit —
as he could be pitied, to deliver him
over to Famine. As Ceres herself could not approach
Famine, for the Fates have ordained that these two
goddesses shall never come together, she called an
Oread from her mountain and spoke to her in these
words "There is a place in the farthest part of ice-
:
clad Scythia, a sad and sterile region without trees and

without crops. Cold dwells there, and Fear and Shud-
dering, and Famine. Go and jtell the last to take pos-
session of the bowels of Erisichthon. Let not abundance
subdue her, nor the power of my gifts drive her away.
Be not alarmed at the distance" (for Famine dwells
very far from Ceres), "but take my chariot. The
dragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will take you
through the air in a short time." So she gave her the
reins, and she drove away and soon reached Scythia.
On arriving at Mount Caucasus she stopped the drag-
ons and found Famine in a stony field, pulling up with
teeth and claws the scanty herbage. Her hair was
rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her lips blanched,
her jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight,
so as to show all her bones. As the Oread saw her
afar off (for she did not dare to come near), she de-
livered the commands of Ceres ; and, though she stopped
as short a time as possible, and kept her distance as
well as she could, yet she began to feel hungry, and
turned the dragons' heads and drove back to Thessaly.
Famine obeyed the commands of Ceres and sped
through the air to the dwelling of Erisichthon, entered
the bedchamber of the guilty man, and found him asleep.
She enfolded him with her wings and breathed herself
into him, infusing her poison into his veins. Having
discharged her task, she hastened to leave the land of
plenty and returned to her accustomed haunts. Erisich-
thon still slept, and in his dreams craved food, and
moved his jaws as if eating. When he awoke, his
hunger was raging. Without a moment's delay he would
have food set before him, of whatever kind earth, sea,
or air produces; and complained of hunger even while
he ate. What would have sufficed for a city or a na-
tion, was not enough for him. The more he ate the
ERISICHTHON 171
more he craved. His hunger was like the sea, which re-
ceives all the rivers, yet is never filled; or like fire,
that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet is still
voracious for more.
His property rapidly diminished under the unceasing
demands of his appetite, but his hunger continued un-
abated. At length he had spent all and had only his
daughter left, a daughter worthy of a better parent.
Her too he sold. She scorned to be the slave of a pur-
chaser and as she stood by the seaside raised her hands
in prayer to Neptune. He heard her prayer, and though
her new master was not far off and had his eye upon
her a moment before, Neptune changed her form and
made her assume that of a fisherman busy at his oc-
cupation. Her master, looking for her and seeing her
in her altered form, addressed her and said, "Good
fisherman, whither went the maiden whom I saw just
now, with hair dishevelled and in humble garb, standing
about where you stand? Tell me truly; so may your
luck be good and not a fish nibble at your hook and get
away." She perceived that her prayer was answered
and rejoiced inwardly at hearing herself inquired of
about herself. She replied, "Pardon me, stranger, but
I have been so intent upon my
line that I have seen
nothing else; but I wish I may never catch another fish
if any woman or other person except myself
I believe
to have been hereabouts for some time." He was de-
ceived and went his way, thinking his slave had escaped.
Then she resumed her own form. Her father was well
pleased to find her still with him, and the money too that
he got by the sale of her; so he sold her again. But
she was changed by the favor of Neptune as often as
she was sold, now into a horse, now a bird, now an ox,
—
and now a stag, got away from her purchasers and
came home. By this base method the starving father
procured food but not enough for his wants, and at last
;
hunger compelled him to devour his limbs, and he strove

to nourish his body by eating his body, till death re-
lieved him from the vengeance of Ceres.
RHCECUS
The Hamadryads could appreciate services as well as
punish injuries. The story of Rhoecus proves this.
Rhoecus, happening to see an oak just ready to fall,
ordered his servants to prop it up. The nymph, who
had been on the point of perishing with the tree, came
and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved
her life and bade him ask what reward he would.
Rhoecus boldly asked her love and the nymph yielded to
his desire. She at the same time charged him to be
constant and told him that a bee should be her mes-
senger and let him know when she would admit his
society. One time the bee came to Rhoecus when he
was playing at draughts and he carelessly brushed it
away. This so incensed the nymph that she deprived
him of sight.
Our countryman, J. R. Lowell, has taken this story

for the subject of one of his shorter poems. He intro-
duces it thus:
"Hear now this fairy legend of old Greece,

As of freedom, youth and beauty still,
full
As the immortal freshness of that grace
Carved for all ages on some Attic frieze."
THE WATER DEITIES
Oceanus and Tethys were the Titans who ruled over

the watery element. When Jove and his brothers over-
threw the Titans and assumed their power, Neptune and
Amphitrite succeeded to the dominion of the waters in
place of Oceanus and Tethys.
NEPTUNE
Neptune was the chief of the water deities. The
symbol of his power was the trident, or spear with
three points, with which he used to shatter rocks, to
call forth or subdue storms, to shake the shores and the
like. He created the horse and was the patron of
THE WATER DEITIES 173
horse races. His own horses had brazen hoofs and

golden manes. They drew his chariot over the sea,
which became smooth before him, while the monsters
of the deep gambolled about his path.
AMPHITRITE
Amphitrite was the wife of Neptune. She was the
daughter of Nereus and Doris, and the mother of Triton.
Neptune, to pay his court to Amphitrite, came riding on
a dolphin. Having won her he rewarded the dolphin
by placing him among the stars.
NEREUS AND DORIS

Nereus and Doris were the parents of the Nereids,
the most celebrated of whom were Amphitrite, Thetis,
the mother of Achilles, and Galatea, who was loved
by the Cyclops Polyphemus. Nereus was distinguished
for his knowledge and his love of truth and justice,
whence he was termed an elder; the gift of prophecy
was also assigned to him.
TRITON AND PROTEUS

Triton was the son of Neptune and Amphitrite, and
the poets make him his father's trumpeter. Proteus
was also a son of Neptune. He, like Nereus, is styled
a sea-elder for his wisdom and knowledge of future
events. His peculiar power was that of changing his
shape at will.
THETIS
Thetis, the daughter of Nereus and Doris, was so
beautiful that Jupiter himself sought her in marriage;
but having learned from Prometheus the Titan that
Thetis should bear a son who should grow greater than
his father, Jupiter desisted from his suit and decreed
that Thetis should be the wife of a mortal. By the
aid of Chiron the Centaur, Peleus succeeded in winning
:
the goddess for his bride and their son was the re-
nowned Achilles. In our chapter on the Trojan war
it will appear that Thetis was a faithful mother to him,
aiding him in all difficulties, and watching over his in-

terests from the first to the last.
LEUCOTHEA AND PAUEMON

Ino, the daughter of Cadmus and wife of Athamas,
flying from her frantic husband with her little son Meli-
certes in her arms, sprang from a cliff into the sea.
The gods, out of compassion, made her a goddess of
the sea, under the name of Leucothea, and him a god,
under that of Palaemon. Both were held powerful to
save from shipwreck and were invoked by sailors.
Palaemon was usually represented riding on a dolphin.
The Isthmian games were celebrated in his honor. He
was called Portunus by the Romans, and believed to
have jurisdiction of the ports and shores.
Milton alludes to all these deities in the song at the

conclusion of "Comus"
". . . Sabrina fair,
Listen and appear to us,
In name of great Oceanus;
By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,
And Tethys' grave, majestic pace,
By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,
And the Carpathian wizard's hook,1
By scaly Triton's winding shell,
And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell,
By Leucothea's lovely hands,
And her son who rules the strands.
By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet,
And the songs of Sirens sweet;" etc.
Armstrong, the poet of the "Art of preserving

Health," under the inspiration of Hygeia, the goddess
of health, thus celebrates the Naiads. Paeon is a name
both of Apollo and iEsculapius.
1 Proteus.
THE WATER DEITIES 175
"Come, ye Naiads! to the fountains lead!

Propitious maids the task remains to sing
!
Your gifts (so Paeon, so the powers of Health

Command), to praise your crystal element.
O comfortable streams with eager lips
!
And trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff

New life in you; fresh vigor fills their veins.
No warmer cups the rural ages knew,
None warmer sought the sires of humankind;
Happy in temperate peace their equal days
Felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth
And sick dejection; still serene and pleased,
Blessed with divine immunity from ills,
Long centuries they lived; their only fate
Was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death."
THE CAMENÊ
By this name the Latins designated the Muses, but
included under it also some other deities, principally
nymphs of fountains. Egeria was one of them, whose
fountain and grotto are still shown. It was said that
Numa, the second king of Rome, was favored by this
nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught him
those lessons of wisdom and of law which he imbodied
in the institutions of his rising nation. After the death
of Numa the nymph pined away and was changed into
a fountain.
Byron, in "Childe Harold," Canto IV., thus alludes

to Egeriaand her grotto :
"Here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover,

Egeria all thy heavenly bosom beating
!
For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover;

The purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting
With her most starry canopy;" etc.
Tennyson, also, in his "Palace of Art," gives us a

glimpse of the royal lover expecting the interview:
"Holding one hand against his ear,

To list a footfall ere he saw
The wood-nymph, stayed the Tuscan king to hear
Of wisdom and of law."
THE WINDS
When so many less active agencies were personified,
it is not to be supposed that the winds failed to be so.
They were Boreas or Aquilo, the north wind; Zephyrus
or Favonius, the west; Notus or Auster, the south; and
Eurus, the east. The first two have been chiefly cele-
brated by the poets, the former as the type of rude-
ness, the latter of gentleness. Boreas loved the nymph
Orithyia, and tried to play the lover's part, but met
with poor success. It was hard for him to breathe
gently, and sighing was out of the question. Weary at last
of fruitless endeavors, he acted out his true character,
seized the maiden and carried her off. Their children
were Zetes and Calais, winged warriors, who accom-
panied the Argonautic expedition, and did good service
in an encounter with those monstrous birds the Harpies.
Zephyrus was the lover of Flora. Milton alludes

to them in "Paradise Lost," where he describes Adam
waking and contemplating Eve still asleep.
He on his side
. .
Leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love,

Hung over her enamored, and beheld
Beauty which, whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice,
Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft touching, whispered thus: 'Awake!
My fairest, my espoused, my latest found,
Heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight/"
Dr. Young, the poet of the "Night Thoughts/' ad-

dressing the idle and luxurious, says:
"Yedelicate! who nothing can support

(Yourselves most insupportable) for whom
The winter rose must blow, . . .
. and silky soft

. .
!"
Favonius breathe still softer or be chid
—

(Continued)
CHAPTER XXIII
ACHELOUS AND HERCULES —ADMETUS AND ALCESTIS

ANTIGONE —PENELOPE
ACHELOUS AND HERCULES
The river-god Achelous told the story of Erisichthon
to Theseus and his companions, whom he was enter-
taining at his hospitable board, while they were delayed
on their journey by the overflow of his waters. Having
finished his story, he added, "But why should I tell of
other persons' transformations when I myself am an
instance of the possession of this power? Sometimes I
become a serpent, and sometimes a bull, with horns on
my head. Or I should say I once could do so but now
;
I have but one horn, having lost one." And here he

groaned and was silent.
Theseus asked him the cause of his grief, and how
he lost his horn. To which question the river-god re-
plied follows: "Who likes to tell of his defeats?
as
Yet not hesitate to relate mine, comforting my-
I will
self with the thought of the greatness of my conqueror,
for it was Hercules. Perhaps you have heard of the
fame of Dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host
of suitors strove to win. Hercules and myself were of
the number, and the rest yielded to us two. He urged
in his behalf his descent from Jove and his labors by
which he had exceeded the exactions of Juno, his step-
mother. I, on the other hand, said to the father of the
maiden, 'Behold me, the king of the waters that flow
177
through your land. I am no stranger from a foreign

shore, but belong to the country, a part of your realm.
Let it not stand in my way that royal Juno owes me no
enmity nor punishes me with heavy tasks. As for this
man, who boasts himself the son of Jove, it is either
a false pretence, or disgraceful to him if true, for it
cannot be true except by his mother's shame.' As I said
this Hercules scowled upon me, and with difficulty re-
strained his rage. 'My hand will answer better than
my tongue,' said he. 'I yield to you the victory in words,
but trust my cause to the strife of deeds.' With that
he advanced towards me, and I was ashamed, after
what I had said, to yield. I threw off my green vesture
and presented myself for the struggle. He tried to
throw me, now attacking my head, now my body. My
bulk was my protection, and he assailed me in vain.
For a time we stopped, then returned to the conflict.
We each kept our position, determined not to yield, foot
to foot, I bending over him, clenching his hand in mine,
with my forehead almost touching his. Thrice Hercules
tried to throw me off, and the fourth time he succeed-
ed, brought me to the ground, and himself upon my
back. I tell you the truth, it was as if a mountain had
fallen on me. I struggled to get my arms at liberty,
panting and reeking with perspiration. He gave me no
chance to recover, but seized my throat. My knees
were on the earth and my mouth in the dust.
"Finding that I was no match for him in the warrior's
art, I resorted to others and glided away in the form
of a serpent. I curled my body in a coil and hissed
at him with my forked tongue. He smiled scornfully
at this, and said, Tt was the labor of my infancy to
conquer snakes.' So saying he clasped my neck with
his hands. I was almost choked, and struggled to get
my neck out of his grasp. Vanquished in this form, I
tried what alone remained to me and assumed the form
of a bull. He grasped my neck with his arm, and drag-
ging my head down to the ground, overthrew me on
the sand. Nor was this enough. His ruthless hand rent
my horn from my head. The Naiades took it, conse-
crated it, and filled it with fragrant flowers. Plenty
ADMETUS AND ALCESTIS 179
adopted my horn and made it her own, and called it

"
'Cornucopia.'
The ancients were fond of finding a hidden meaning

in their mythological tales. They explain this fight of
Achelous with Hercules by saying Achelous was a river
that in seasons of rain overflowed its banks. When
the fable says that Achelous loved Dejanira, and sought
a union with her, the meaning is that the river in its
windings flowed through part of Dejanira's kingdom.
It was said to take the form of a snake because of
its winding, and of a bull because it made a brawling
or roaring in its course. When the river swelled, it
made itself another channel. Thus its head was horned.
Hercules prevented the return of these periodical over-
flows by embankments and canals and therefore he was
;
said to have vanquished the river-god and cut off his

horn. Finally, the lands formerly subject to overflow,
but now redeemed, became very fertile, and this is meant
by the horn of plenty.
There is another account of the origin of the Cornu-
copia. Jupiter at his birth was committed by his mother
Rhea to the care of the daughters of Melisseus, a Cretan
king. They fed the infant deity with the milk of the
goat Amalthea. Jupiter broke off one of the horns
of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and endowed it
with the wonderful power of becoming filled with what-
ever the possessor might wish.
The name of Amalthea is also given by some writers
to the mother of Bacchus. It is thus used by Milton,
"Paradise Lost," Book IV.:
". . . That Nyseian isle,

Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham,
Whom Gentiles Ammon call, and Libyan Jove,
Hid Amalthea and her florid son,
Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye."
ADMETUS AND ALCESTIS

.ZEsculapius, the son of Apollo, was endowed by his
father with such skill in the healing art that he even
restored the dead to life. At this Pluto took alarm,
and prevailed on Jupiter to launch a thunderbolt at
yEsculapius. Apollo was indignant at the destruction
of his son, and wreaked his vengeance on the inno-
cent workmen who had made the thunderbolt. These
were the Cyclopes, who have their workshop under
Mount y£tna, from which the smoke and flames of
their furnaces are constantly issuing. Apollo shot his
arrows at the Cyclopes, which so incensed Jupiter that
he condemned him as a punishment to become the serv-
ant of a mortal for the space of one year. Accord-
ingly Apollo went into the service of Admetus, king of
Thessaly, and pastured his flocks for him on the verdant
banks of the river Amphrysos.
Admetus was a suitor, with others, for the hand of
Alcestis, the daughter of Pelias, who promised her to
him who should come for her in a chariot drawn by
lions and boars. This task Admetus performed by the
assistance of his divine herdsman, and was made happy
in the possession of Alcestis. But Admetus fell ill,
and being near to death, Apollo prevailed on the Fates
to spare him on condition that some one would con-
sent to die in his stead. Admetus, in his joy at this
reprieve, thought little of the ransom, and perhaps re-
membering the declarations of attachment which he had
often heard from his courtiers and dependents fancied
that it would be easy to find a substitute. But it was
not so. Brave warriors, who would willingly have per-
illed their lives for their prince, shrunk from the thought
of dying for him on the bed of sickness and old serv-
;
ants who had experienced his bounty and that of his

house from their childhood up, were not willing to lay
down the scanty remnant of their days to show their
gratitude. Men asked, "Why does not one of his par-
ents do it? They cannot in the course of nature live
much longer, and who can feel like them the call to
rescue the life they gave from an untimely end?" But
the parents, distressed though they were at the thought
of losing him, shrunk from the call. Then Alcestis, with
a generous self-devotion, proffered herself as the sub-
stitute. Admetus, fond as he was of life, would not
ANTIGONE 181
have submitted to receive it at such a cost; but there

was no remedy. The condition imposed by the Fates
had been met, and the decree was irrevocable. Alcestis
sickened as Admetus revived, and she was rapidly sink-
ing to the grave.
Just at this time Hercules arrived at the palace of
Admetus, and found all the inmates in great distress
for the impending loss of the devoted wife and beloved
mistress. Hercules, to whom no labor was too arduous,
resolved to attempt her rescue. He went and lay in
wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen,
and when Death came for his prey, he seized him and
forced him to resign his victim. Alcestis recovered, and
was restored to her husband.
Milton alludes to the story of Alcestis in his Sonnet

"on his deceased wife:"
"Methought I saw my late espoused saint

Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,
Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,
Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint."
J. R. Lowell has chosen the "Shepherd of King Ad-

metus" for the subject of a short poem. He makes that
event the first introduction of poetry to men.
"Men called him but a shiftless youth,

In whom no good they saw,
And yet unwittingly, in truth,
They made his careless words their law.
"And day by day more holy grew

Each spot where he had trod,
Till after-poets only knew
Their first-born brother was a god."
ANTIGONE
A large proportion both of the interesting persons
and of the exalted acts of legendary Greece belongs to
the female sex. Antigone was as bright an example
of filial and sisterly fidelity as was Alcestis of connu-
bial devotion. She was the daughter of QEdipus and
Jocasta, who with all their descendants were the victims
of an unrelenting fate, dooming them to destruction.
OEdipus in his madness had torn out his eyes, and was
driven forth from his kingdom Thebes, dreaded and
abandoned by all men, as an object of divine vengeance.
Antigone, his daughter, alone shared his wanderings and
remained with him till he died, and then returned to
Thebes.
Her brothers, Eteocles and Polynices, had agreed to
share the kingdom between them, and reign alternately
year by year. The first year fell to the lot of Eteocles,
who, when his time expired, refused to surrender the
kingdom to his brother. Polynices fled to Adrastus,
king of Argos, who gave him his daughter in marriage,
and aided him with an army to enforce his claim to the
kingdom. This led to the celebrated expedition of the
"Seven against. Thebes," which furnished ample ma-
terials for the epic and tragic poets of Greece.
Amphiaraus, the brother-in-law of Adrastus, opposed
the enterprise, for he was a soothsayer, and knew by
his art that no one of the leaders except Adrastus would
live to return. But Amphiaraus, on his marriage to
Eriphyle, the king's sister, had agreed that whenever he
and Adrastus should differ in opinion, the decision
should be left to Eriphyle. Polynices, knowing this,
gave Eriphyle the collar of Harmonia, and thereby
gained her to his interest. This collar or necklace was
a present which Vulcan had given to Harmonia on her
marriage with Cadmus, and Polynices had taken it with
him on his flight from Thebes. Eriphyle could not re-
sist so tempting a bribe, and by her decision the war was
resolved on, and Amphiaraus went to his certain fate.
He bore his part bravely in the contest, but could not
avert his destiny. Pursued by the enemy, he fled along
the river, when a thunderbolt launched by Jupiter
opened the ground, and he, his chariot, and his chari-
oteer were swallowed up.
It would not be in place here to detail all the acts
of heroism or atrocity which marked the contest; but
we must not omit to record the fidelity of Evadne as
ANTIGONE 183"
an offset to the weakness of Eriphyle. Capaneus, the

husband of Evadne, in the ardor of the fight declared
that he would force his way into the city in spite of
Jove himself. Placing a ladder against the wall he
mounted, but Jupiter, offended at his impious language,
struck him with a thunderbolt. When his obsequies
were celebrated, Evadne cast herself on his funeral pile
and perished.
Early in the contest Eteocles consulted the sooth-
sayer Tiresias as to the issue. Tiresias in his youth
had by chance seen Minerva bathing. The goddess in
her wrath deprived him of his sight, but afterwards
relenting gave him in compensation the knowledge of
future events. When consulted by Eteocles, he de-
clared that victory should fall to Thebes if Menceceus,
the son of Creon, gave himself a voluntary victim. The
heroic youth, learning the response, threw away his life
in the first encounter.
The siege continued long, with various success. At
length both hosts agreed that the brothers should de-
cide their quarrel by single combat. They fought and
fell by each other's hands. The armies then renewed
the fight, and at last the invaders were forced to yield,
and fled, leaving their dead unburied. Creon, the uncle
of the fallen princes, now become king, caused Eteocles
to be buried with distinguished honor, but suffered the
body of Polynices to lie where it fell, forbidding every
one on pain of death to give it burial.
Antigone, the sister of Polynices, heard with indigna-
tion the revolting edict which consigned her brother's
body to the dogs and vultures, depriving it of those
rites which were considered essential to the repose of
the dead. Unmoved by the dissuading counsel of an
affectionate but timid sister, and unable to procure as-
sistance, she determined to brave the hazard, and to
bury the body with her own hands. She was detected
in the act, and Creon gave orders that she should be
buried alive, as having deliberately set at naught the
solemn edict of the city. Her lover, Haemon, the son
of Creon, unable to avert her fate, would not survive
her, and fell by his own hand.
:

Antigone forms the subject of two fine tragedies of
the Grecian poet Sophocles. Mrs. Jameson, in her
"Characteristics of Women," has compared her char-
acter with that of Cordelia, in Shakspeare's "King
Lear." The perusal of her remarks cannot fail to
gratify our readers.
The following is the lamentation of Antigone over
GEdipus, when death has at last relieved him from his
sufferings
"Alas only wished I might have died

! I
With my poor father; wherefore should I ask
For longer life?
O, I was fond of misery with him;
E'en what was most unlovely grew beloved
When he was with me. O my dearest father,
Beneath the earth now in deep darkness hid,
Worn as thou wert with age, to me thou still
Wast dear, and shalt be ever."
— Francklin's Sophocles.
PENELOPE
Penelope is another of those mythic heroines whose
beauties were rather those of character and conduct
than of person. She was the daughter of Icarius, a
Spartan prince. Ulysses, king of Ithaca, sought her
in marriage, and won her, over all competitors. When
the moment came for the bride to leave her father's
house, Icarius, unable to bear the thoughts of parting
with his daughter, tried to persuade her to remain with
him, and not accompany her husband to Ithaca. Ulysses
gave Penelope her choice, to stay or go with him.
Penelope made no reply, but dropped her veil over her
face. Icarius urged her no further, but when she was
gone erected a statue to Modesty on the spot where they
parted.
Ulysses and Penelope had not enjoyed their union
more than a year when it was interrupted by the events
which called Ulysses to the Trojan war. During his
long absence, and when it was doubtful whether he still
lived, and highly improbable that he would ever return,
Penelope was importuned by numerous suitors, from
whom there seemed no refuge but in choosing one of
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 185
them for her husband. Penelope, however, employed

every art to gain time, still hoping for Ulysses' return.
One of her arts of delay was engaging in the prepara-
tion of a robe for the funeral canopy of Laertes, her
husband's father. She pledged herself to make her
choice among the suitors when the robe was finished.
During the day she worked at the robe, but in the night
she undid the work of the day. This is the famous
Penelope's web, which is used as a proverbial expres-
sion for anything which is perpetually doing but never
done. The rest of Penelope's history will be told when
we give an account of her husband's adventures.
CHAPTER XXIV
— —
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE ARIST.EUS AMPHION LINUS —
— — —
THAMYRIS MARSYAS MELAMPUS MUSÛS —
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE
Orpheus was the son of Apollo and the Muse Cal-
liope. He was presented by his father with a Lyre
and taught to play upon it, which he did to such per-
fection that nothing could withstand the charm of his
music. Not only his fellow-mortals but wild beasts were
softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid
by their fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. Nay,
the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm.
The former crowded round him and the latter relaxed
somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes.
Hymen had been called to bless with his presence
the nuptials of Orpheus with Eurydice; but though he
attended, he brought no happy omens with him. His
very torch smoked and brought tears into their eyes.
Tn coincidence with such prognostics, Eurydice, shortly
after her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs,
her companions, was seen by the shepherd Aristseus,
who was struck with her beauty and made advances to
her. She fled, and in flying trod upon a snake in the
grass, was bitten in the foot, and died. Orpheus sang
his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods
and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek
his wife in the regions of the dead. He descended by
a cave situated on the side of the promontory of Tsenarus
and arrived at the Stygian realm. He passed through
crowds of ghosts and presented himself before the
throne of Pluto and Proserpine. Accompanying the
words with the lyre, he sung, "O deities of the under-
world, to whom all we who live must come, hear my
words, for they are true. I come not to spy out the
secrets of Tartarus, nor to try my strength against the
three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards the en-
trance. I come to seek my wife, whose opening years
the poisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely
end. Love has led me here, Love, a god all power-
ful with us who dwell on the earth, and, if old tradi-
tions say true, not less so here. I implore you by these
abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and un-
created things, unite again the thread of Eurydice's life.
We all are destined to you, and sooner or later must
pass to your domain. She too, when she shall have
filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. But till
then grant her to me, I beseech you. If you deny me I
cannot return alone; you shall triumph in the death of
us both."
As he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed
tears. Tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a
moment his efforts for water, Ixion's wheel stood still,
the vulture ceased to tear the giant's liver, the daughters
of Danaiis rested from their task of drawing water in
a sieve, and Sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. Then
for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the Furies
were wet with tears. Proserpine could not resist, and
Pluto himself gave way. Eurydice was called. She
came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with
her wounded foot. Orpheus was permitted to take her
away with him on one condition, that he should not
turn around to look at her till they should have reached
the upper air. Under this condition they proceeded on
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 187
their way, he leading, she following, through passages

dark and steep, in total silence, till they had nearly
reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when
Orpheus, in a moment of forgetfulness, to assure him-
self that she was still following, cast a glance behind
him, when instantly she was borne away. Stretching
out their arms to embrace each other, they grasped only
the air! Dying now a second time, she yet cannot re-
proach her husband, for how can she blame his impa-
tience to behold her? "Farewell," she said, "a last fare-
—
well," and was hurried away, so fast that the sound
hardly reached his ears.
Orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought per-
mission to return and try once more for her release;
but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused pas-
sage. Seven days he lingered about the brink, without
food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of cruelty the
powers of Erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks
and mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving
the oaks from their stations. He held himself aloof
from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection
of his sad mischance. The Thracian maidens tried their
best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances.
They bore with him as long as they could; but finding
him insensible one day, excited by the rites of Bacchus,
one of them exclaimed, "See yonder our despiser!" and
threw at him her javelin. The weapon, as soon as it
came within the sound of his lyre, fell harmless at his
feet. So did also the stones that they threw at him. But
the women raised a scream and drowned the voice of the
music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were
stained with his blood. The maniacs tore him limb from
limb, and threw his head and his lyre into the river
Hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music,
to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony.
The Muses gathered up the fragments of his body and
buried them at Libethra, where the nightingale is said
to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other
part of Greece. His lyre was placed by Jupiter among
the stars. His shade passed a second time to Tartarus,
where he sought out his Eurydice and embraced her
: ! ! ;

with eager arms. They roam the happy fields together
now, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and Orpheus
gazes as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring
a penalty for a thoughtless glance.
The story of Orpheus has furnished Pope with an

illustration of the power of music, for his "Ode for St.
Cecilia's Day." The following stanza relates the con-
clusion of the story
"But soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes;

Again she falls, again she dies, she dies
How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?
No crime was thine, if 't is no crime to love.
Now under hanging mountains,
Beside the falls of fountains,
Or where Hebrus wanders,
Rolling in meanders,
All alone,
He makes his moan,
And her ghost,
calls
Forever, ever, ever lost
Now with furies surrounded,
Despairing, confounded,
He trembles, he glows,
Amidst Rhodope's snows.
See, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies
Hark! Haemus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries?
Ah, see, he dies!
Yet even in death Eurydice he sung,
Eurydice still trembled on his tongue:
Eurydice the woods
Eurydice the floods
Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung."
The superior melody of the nightingale's song over

the grave of Orpheus is alluded to by Southey in his
"Thalaba":
"Then on his ear what sounds
Of harmony arose!
Far music and the distance-mellowed song
From bowers of merriment;
The waterfall remote;
The murmuring of the leafy groves;
The single nightingale
Perched in the rosier by, so richly toned,
That never from that most melodious bird
ARIST7EUS, THE BEE-KEEPER 189
Singing a love song to his brooding mate,

Did Thracian shepherd by the grave
Of Orpheus hear a sweeter melody,
Though there the spirit of the sepulchre
All his own power infuse, to swell
The incense that he loves.''
ARIST.EUS, THE BEE-KEEPER

Man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior
animals for his own advantage. Hence sprang the art
of keeping bees. Honey must first have been known as
a wild product, the bees building their structures in hol-
low trees or holes in the rocks, or any similar cavity that
chance offered. Thus occasionally the carcass of a dead
animal would be occupied by the bees for that purpose.
It was no doubt from some such incident that the super-
stition arose that the bees were engendered by the de-
caying flesh of the animal; and Virgil, in the following
story, shows how this supposed fact may be turned to
account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost
by disease or accident:
Aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees,
was the son of the water-nymph Cyrene. His bees had
perished, and he resorted for aid to his mother. He
stood at the river side and thus addressed her: "O
mother, the pride of my life is taken from me I have
!
lost my precious bees. My care and skill have availed me

nothing, and you my mother have not warded off from
me the blow of misfortune." His mother heard these
complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the
river, with her attendant nymphs around her. They
were engaged in female occupations, spinning and weav-
ing, while one told stories to amuse the rest. The sad
voice of Aristaeus interrupting their occupation, one of
them put her head above the water and seeing him, re-
turned and gave information to his mother, who ordered
that he should be brought into her presence. The river
at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while
it stood curled like a mountain on either side. He de-
scended to the region where the fountains of the great
rivers lie; he saw the enormous receptacles of waters
and was almost deafened with the roar, while he sur-

veyed them hurrying off in various directions to water
the face of the earth. Arriving at his mother's apart-
ment, he was hospitably received by Cyrene and her
nymphs, who spread their table with the richest dainties.
They first poured out libations to Neptune, then regaled
themselves with the feast, and after that Cyrene thus
addressed him "There is an old prophet named Proteus,
:
who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of Neptune,

whose herd of sea-calves he pastures. We nymphs hold
him in great respect, for he is a learned sage and knows
all things, past, present, and to come. He can tell you,
my son, the cause of the mortality among your bees,
and how you may remedy it. But he will not do it vol-
untarily, however you may entreat him. You must com-
pel him by force. If you seize him and chain him, he
will answer your questions in order to get released, for
he cannot by all his arts get away if you hold fast the
chains. I will carry you to his cave, where he comes
at noon to take his midday repose. Then you may
easily secure him. But when he finds himself captured,
his resort is to a power he possesses of changing himself
into various forms. He will become a wild boar or a
fierce tiger, a scaly dragon or lion with yellow mane. Or
he will make a noise like the crackling of flames or the
rush of water, so as to tempt you to let go the chain,
when he will make his escape. But you have only to
keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his
arts unavailing, he will return to his own figure and
obey your commands." So saying she sprinkled her son
with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and im-
mediately an unusual vigor filled his frame, and courage
his heart, while perfume breathed all around him.
The nymph led her son to the prophet's cave and con-
cealed him among the recesses of the rocks, while she
herself took her place behind the clouds. When noon
came and the hour when men and herds retreat from
the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, Proteus
issued from the water, followed by his herd of sea-calves
which spread themselves along the shore. He sat on
the rock and counted his herd; then stretched himself on
:
ARISTÛS, THE BEE-KEEPER 191
the floor of the cave and went to sleep. Aristseus hardly-

allowed him to get fairly asleep before he fixed the fet-
ters on him and shouted aloud. Proteus, waking and
finding himself captured, immediately resorted to his
arts, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible
wild beast, in rapid succession. But finding all would
not do, he at last resumed his own form and addressed
the youth in angry accents "Who are you, bold youth,
:
who thus invade my abode, and what do you want of

me?" Aristasus replied, "Proteus, you know already,
for it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive you.
And do you also cease your efforts to elude me. I am
led hither by divine assistance, to know from you the
cause of my misfortune and how to remedy it." At
these words the prophet, fixing on him his gray eyes
with a piercing look, thus spoke "You receive the
:
merited reward of your deeds, by which Eurydice met

her death, for in flying from you she trod upon a serpent,
of whose bite she died. To avenge her death, the
nymphs, her companions, have sent this destruction to
your bees. You have to appease their anger, and thus
it must be done Select four bulls, of perfect form and
:
size, and four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to

the nymphs, and sacrifice the animals, leaving their car-
casses in the leafy grove. To Orpheus and Eurydice
you shall pay such funeral honors as may allay their re-
sentment. Returning after nine days, you will examine
the bodies of the cattle slain and' see what will befall."
Aristseus faithfully obeyed these directions. He sacri-
ficed the cattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he
offered funeral honors to the shades of Orpheus and
Eurydice; then returning on the ninth day he examined
the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate a !
swarm of bees had taken possession of one of the car-

casses and were pursuing their labors there as in a hive.
In "The Task," Cowper alludes to the story of

when speaking of the ice-palace built by the
Aristaeus,
Empress Anne of Russia. He has been describing the
fantastic forms which ice assumes in connection with
waterfalls, etc.
: :

"Less worthy of applause though more admired
Because a novelty, the work of man,
Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ,
Thy most magnificent and mighty freak,
The wonder of the north. No forest fell
When thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores
T' enrich thy walls but thou didst hew the floods
;
And make thy marble of the glassy wave.

In such a palace Aristseus found
Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale
Of his lost bees to her maternal ear."
Milton also appears to have had Cyrene and her

domestic scene in his mind when he describes to us
Sabrina, the nymph of the river Severn, in the Guard-
ian-spirit's Song in "Comus"
"Sabrina fair!
Listen where thou art sitting
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave
In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
Listen for dear honor's sake,
Goddess of the silver lake!
Listen and save."
The following are other celebrated mythical poets

and musicians, some of whom were hardly inferior to
Orpheus himself
AMPHION
Amphion was the son of Jupiter and Antiope, queen
of Thebes. With his twin brother Zethus he was ex-
posed at birth on Mount Cithseron, where they grew up
among the shepherds, not knowing their parentage.
Mercury gave Amphion a lyre and taught him to play
upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and
tending the flocks. Meanwhile Antiope, their mother,

who had been treated with great cruelty by Lycus, the
usurping king of Thebes, and by Dirce, his wife, found
means to inform her children of their rights and to
summon them to her assistance. With a band of their
fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew Lycus, and tying
Dirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him drag her
MELAMPUS 193
tillshe was dead. Amphion, having become king of

Thebes, fortified the city with a wall. It is said that
when he played on his lyre the stones moved of their
own accord and took their places in the wall.
See Tennyson's poem of "Amphion" for an amusing
use made of this story.
LINUS
Linus was the instructor of Hercules in music, but
having one day reproved his pupil rather harshly, he
roused the anger of Hercules, who struck him with his
lyre and killed him.
THAMYRIS
An ancient Thracian bard, who in his presumption
challenged the Muses to a trial of skill, and being over-
come in the contest, was deprived by them of his sight.
Milton alludes to hirn with other blind bards, when
speaking of his own blindness, "Paradise Lost/' Book
III., 35.
MARSYAS
Minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the
delight of all the celestial auditors; but the mischievous
urchin Cupid having dared to laugh at the queer face
which the goddess made while playing, Minerva threw
the instrument indignantly away, and it fell down to
earth, and was found by Marsyas. He blew upon
it, and drew from it such ravishing sounds that he
was tempted to challenge Apollo himself to a musical
contest. The god of course triumphed, and punished
Marsyas by flaying him alive.
MELAMPUS
Melampus was the first mortal endowed with pro-
phetic powers. Before his house there stood an oak
tree containing a serpent's nest. The old serpents were
killed by the servants, but Melampus took care of the
young ones and fed them carefully. One day when he
was asleep under the oak the serpents licked his ears
:
with their tongues. On awaking he was astonished to

find that he now understood the language of birds and
creeping things. This knowledge enabled him to fore-
tell future events, and he became a renowned soothsayer.
At one time his enemies took him captive and kept him
strictly imprisoned. Melampus in the silence of the night
heard the woodworms in the timbers talking together,
and found out by what they said that the timbers were
nearly eaten through and the roof would soon fall in.
He told his captors and demanded to be let out, warn-
ing them also. They took his warning, and thus escaped
destruction, and rewarded Melampus and held him in
high honor.
MUSÛS
A semi-mythological personage who was represented
by one tradition to be the son of Orpheus. He is said
to have written sacred poems and oracles. Milton
couples his name with that of Orpheus in his "II
Penseroso"
"But O, sad virgin, that thy power
Might raise Musseus from his bower,
Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made Hell grant what love did seek."
CHAPTER XXV
ARION —IBYCUS—SIMONIDES—SAPPHO
The poets whose adventures compose this chapter
were real persons some of whose works yet remain,
and their influence on poets who succeeded them is yet
more important than their poetical remains. The adven-
tures recorded of them in the following stories rest on
the same authority as other narratives of the "Age of
Fable," that is,of the poets who have told them. In
their present form, the first two are translated from
ARION 195
the German, Arion from Schlegel, and Ibycus from

Schiller.
ARION
Arion was a famous musician, and dwelt in the court
of Periander, king of Corinth, with whom he was a
great favorite. There was to be a musical contest in
Sicily, and Arion longed to compete for the prize.
He told his wish to Periander, who besought him like
a brother to give up the thought. "Pray stay with
me/' he said, "and be contented. He who strives to
win may lose." Arion answered, "A wandering life
best suits the free heart of a poet. The talent which
a god bestowed on me, I would fain make a source of
pleasure to others. And if I win the prize, how will
the enjoyment of it be increased by the consciousness
of my widespread fame !" He went, won the prize, and
embarked with his wealth in a Corinthian ship for home.
On the second morning after setting sail, the wind
breathed mild and fair. "O Periander," he exclaimed,
"dismiss your fears Soon shall you forget them in my
!
embrace. With what lavish offerings will we display

our gratitude to the gods, and how merry will we be at
the festal board!" The wind and sea continued propi-
tious. Not a cloud dimmed the firmament. He had
—
not trusted too much to the ocean but he had to man.
He overheard the seamen exchanging hints with one
another, and found they were plotting to possess them-
selves of his treasure. Presently they surrounded him
loud and mutinous, and said, "Arion, you must die If !
you would have a grave on shore, yield yourself to die

on this spot; but if otherwise, cast yourself into the
sea." "Will nothing satisfy you but my life?" said
he. "Take my gold, and welcome. I willingly buy
my life at that price." "No, no; we cannot spare you.
Your life would be too dangerous to us. Where could
we go to escape from Periander, if he should know that
you had been robbed by us? Your gold would be of
little use to us, if on returning home, we could never
more be free from fear." "Grant me, then," said he, "a
last request, since nought will avail to save my life, that I
may have lived, as becomes a bard. When I

die, as I
shall have sung my death song, and my harp-strings
shall have ceased to vibrate, then I will bid farewell to
life, and yield uncomplaining to my fate." This prayer,
like the others, would have been unheeded, they —
—
thought only of their booty, but to hear so famous a
musician, that moved their rude hearts. "Suffer me,"
he added, "to arrange my dress. Apollo will not favor
me unless I be clad in my minstrel garb."
He clothed his well-proportioned limbs in gold and
purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful
folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned
with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders
flowed his hair perfumed with odors. His left hand
held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he
struck its chords. Like one inspired, he seemed to
drink the morning air and glitter in the morning ray.
The seamen gazed with admiration. He strode forward
to the vessel's side and looked down into the deep blue
sea. Addressing his lyre, he sang, "Companion of my
voice, come with me to the realm of shades. Though
Cerberus may growl, we know the power of song can
tame his rage. Ye heroes of Elysium, who have passed
—
the darkling flood, ye happy souls, soon shall I join
your band. Yet can ye relieve my grief? Alas, I leave
my friend behind me. Thou, who didst find thy Euryd-
ice, and lose her again as soon as found; when she had
vanished like a dream, how didst thou hate the cheerful
light I must away, but I will not fear.
! The gods look
down upon us. Ye who slay me unoffending, when I
am no more, your time of trembling shall come. Ye
Nereids, receive your guest, who throws himself upon
your mercy!" So saying, he sprang into the deep sea.
The waves covered him, and the seamen held on their
way, fancying themselves safe from all danger of de-
tection.
But the strains of his music had drawn round him
the inhabitants of the deep to listen, and Dolphins fol-
lowed the ship as if chained by a spell. While he
struggled in the waves, a Dolphin offered him his back,
and carried him mounted thereon safe to shore. At the
ARION 197
spot where he landed, a monument of brass was after-

wards erected upon the rocky shore, to preserve the
memory of the event.
When Arion and the dolphin parted, each to his own
element, Arion thus poured forth his thanks "Farewell,
:
thou faithful, friendly fish! Would that I could reward

thee; but thou canst not wend with me, nor I with thee.
Companionship we may not have. May Galatea, queen
of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou, proud of
the burden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of
the deep."
Arion hastened from the shore, and soon saw before
him the towers of Corinth. He journeyed on, harp in
hand, singing as he went, fullof love and happiness,
forgetting his losses, and mindful only of what re-
mained, his friend and his lyre. He entered the hos-
pitable halls,and was soon clasped in the embrace of
Periander. "I come back to thee, my friend," he said.
"The talent which a god bestowed has been the delight
of thousands, but false knaves have stripped me of my
well-earned treasure; yet I retain the consciousness of
wide spread fame." Then he told Periander all the won-
derful events that had befallen him, who heard him
with amazement. "Shall such wickedness triumph ?" said
he. "Then in vain is power lodged in my hands. That
we may discover the criminals, you must remain here
in concealment, and so they will approach without sus-
picion." When the ship arrived in the harbor, he sum-
moned the mariners before him. "Have you heard
anything of Arion?" he inquired. "I anxiously look for
his return." They replied, "We left him well and pros-
perous in Tarentum." As they said these words, Arion
stepped forth and faced them. His well-proportioned
limbs were arrayed in gold and purple fair to see, his
tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned
his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath,
and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair per-
fumed with odors; his left hand held the lyre, his right
the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. They
fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning bolt had struck
them. "We meant to murder him, and he has become
a god. OEarth, open and receive us V Then Periander
spoke. "He lives, the master of the lay Kind Heaven
!
protects the poet's life. As for you, I invoke not the

spirit of vengeance; Arion wishes not your blood. Ye
slaves of avarice, begone! Seek some barbarous land,
and never may aught beautiful delight your souls !"
Spenser represents Arion, mounted on his dolphin,
accompanying the train of Neptune and Amphitrite:
"Then was there heard a most celestial sound
Of dainty music which did next ensue,
And, on the floating waters as enthroned,
Arion with his harp unto him drew
The ears and hearts of all that goodly crew;
Even when as yet the dolphin which him bore
Through the iEgean Seas from pirates' view,
Stood still, by him astonished at his lore,
And all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar."
Byron, in his "Childe Harold," Canto II., alludes to

the story of Arion, when, describing his voyage, he
represents one of the seamen making music to entertain
the rest:
"The moon is up; by Heaven a lovely eve!

Long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand;
Nowlads on shore may sigh and maids believe;
Such be our fate when we return to land!
Meantime some rude Arion's restless hand
Wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love;
A circle there of merry listeners stand,
Or to some well-known measure featly move
Thoughtless as if on shore they still were free to rove."
IBYCUS
In order to understand the story of Ibycus which
follows it is necessary to remember, first, that the
theatres of the ancients were immense fabrics capable
of containing from ten to thirty thousand spectators,
and as they were used only on festival occasions, and
admission was free to all, they were usually filled.
They were without roofs and open to the sky, and the
performances were in the daytime. Secondly, the ap-
palling representation of the Furies is not exaggerated
IBYCUS 199
in the story. It is recorded that yEschylus, the tragic

poet, having on one occasion represented the Furies in
a chorus of fifty performers, the terror of the specta-
tors was such that many fainted and were thrown into
convulsions, and the magistrates forbade a like repre-
sentation for the future.
Ibycus, the pious poet, was on his way to the chariot
races and musical competitions held at the Isthmus of
Corinth, which attracted all of Grecian lineage. Apollo
had bestowed on him the gift of song, the honeyed lips
of the poet, and he pursued his way with lightsome step,
full of the god. Already the towers of Corinth crown-
ing the height appeared in view, and he had entered
with pious awe the sacred grove of Neptune. No living
object was in sight, only a flock of cranes flew overhead
taking the same course as himself in their migration to
a southern clime. "Good luck to you, ye friendly squad-
rons," he exclaimed, "my companions from across the
sea. I take your company for a good omen. We come
from far and fly in search of hospitality. May both
of us meet that kind reception which shields the stranger
!"
guest from harm
He paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of
the wood. There suddenly, at a narrow pass, two rob-
bers stepped forth and barred his way. He must yield
or fight. But his hand, accustomed to the lyre, and
not to the strife of arms, sank powerless. He called
for help on men and gods, but his cry reached no de-
fender's ear. "Then here must I die," said he, "in a
strange land, unlamented, cut off by the hand of out-
laws, and see none to avenge my cause." Sore wounded,
he sank to the earth, when hoarse screamed the cranes
overhead. "Take up my cause, ye cranes," he said, "since
no voice but yours answers to my cry." So saying he
closed his eyes in death.
The body, despoiled and mangled, was found, and
though disfigured with wounds, was recognized by the
friend in Corinth who had expected him as a guest.
"Is it thus I find you restored to me?" he exclaimed.
"I who hoped to entwine your temples with the wreath
of triumph in the strife of song!"
The guests assembled at the festival heard the tidings
with dismay. All Greece felt the wound, every heart
owned its loss. They crowded round the tribunal of
the magistrates, and demanded vengeance on the mur-
derers and expiation with their blood.
But what trace or mark shall point out the perpe-
trator from amidst the vast multitude attracted by the
splendor of the feast? Did he fall by the hands of
robbers or did some private enemy slay him? The all-
discerning sun alone can tell, for no other eye beheld
it. Yet not improbably the murderer even now walks
in the midst of the throng, and enjoys the fruits of his
crime, while vengeance seeks for him in vain. Perhaps
in their own temple's enclosure he defies the gods,
mingling freely in this throng of men that now presses
into the amphitheatre.
For now crowded together, row on row, the multi-
tude fill the seats till it seems as if the very fabric would
give way. The murmur of voices sounds like the roar
of the sea, while the circles widening in their ascent rise
tier on tier, as if they would reach the sky.
And now the vast assemblage listens to the awful
voice of the chorus personating the Furies, which in
solemn guise advances with measured step, and moves
around the circuit of the theatre. Can they be mortal
women who compose that awful group, and can that
vast concourse of silent forms be living beings?
The choristers, clad in black, bore in their fleshless
hands torches blazing with a pitchy flame. Their cheeks
were bloodless, and in place of hair writhing and swell-
ing serpents curled around their brows. Forming a
circle, these awful beings sang their hymns, rending the
hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all their faculties.
It rose and swelled, overpowering the sound of the in-
struments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart,
curdling the blood.
"Happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt
and crime! Him we avengers touch not; he treads the
path of life secure from us. But woe! woe! to him
who has done the deed of secret murder. We the fear-
ful family of Night fasten ourselves upon his whole
SIMONIDES 201
being. Thinks he by flight to escape us? Wefly still

faster in pursuit, twine our snakes around his feet, and
bring him to the ground. Unwearied we pursue; no
pity checks our course; still on and on, to the end of
life, we give him no peace nor rest." Thus the Eume-
Inides sang, and moved in solemn cadence, while stillness
|like the stillness of death sat over the whole assembly
as if in the presence of superhuman beings; and then
in solemn march completing the circuit of the theatre,
they passed out at the back of the stage.
Every heart fluttered between illusion and reality, and
every breast panted with undefined terror, quailing be-
fore the awful power that watches secret crimes and
winds unseen the skein of destiny. At that moment a
cry burst forth from one of the uppermost benches —
"Look! look! comrade, yonder are the cranes of
Ibycus!" And suddenly there appeared sailing across
the sky a dark object which a moment's inspection
showed to be a flock of cranes flying directly over the
theatre. "Of Ibycus! did he say?" The beloved name
revived the sorrow in every breast. As wave follows
wave over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth
to mouth the words, "Of Ibycus him whom we all la-
!
ment, whom some murderer's hand laid low! What

have the cranes to do with him?" And louder grew the
swell of voices, while like a lightning's flash the thought
sped through every heart, "Observe the power of the
Eumenides ! The pious poet shall be avenged the mur-
!
derer has informed against himself. Seize the man who

uttered that cry and the other to whom he spoke!"
The culprit would gladly have recalled his words, but
it was too late. The faces of the murderers, pale with
terror, betrayed their guilt. The people took them be-
fore the judge, they confessed their crime, and suffered
the punishment they deserved.
SIMONIDES
Simonides was one of the most prolific of the early
poets of Greece, but only a few fragments of his com-
positions have descended to us. He wrote hymns, tri-
urnphal odes, and elegies. In the last species of com-
position he particularly excelled. His genius was
inclined to the pathetic, and none could touch with truer
effect the chords of human sympathy. The "Lamenta-
tion of Danae," the most important of the fragments
which remain of his poetry, is based upon the tradition
that Danae and her infant son were confined by order
of her father, Acrisius, in a chest and set adrift on the
sea. The chest floated towards the island of Seriphus,
where both were rescued by Dictys, a fisherman, and
carried to Polydectes, king of the country, who received
and protected them. The child, Perseus, when grown up
became a famous hero, whose adventures have been re-
corded in a previous chapter.
Simonides passed much of his life at the courts of
princes, and often employed his talents in panegyric and
festal odes, receiving his reward from the munificence
of those whose exploits he celebrated. This employment
was not derogatory, but closely resembles that of the
earliest bards, such as Demodocus, described by Homer,
or of Homer himself, as recorded by tradition.
On one occasion, when residing at the court of Scopas,
king of Thessaly, the prince desired him to prepare a
poem in celebration of his exploits, to be recited at a
banquet. In order to diversify his theme, Simonides,
who was celebrated for his piety, introduced into his
poem the exploits of Castor and Pollux. Such digres-
sions were not unusual with the poets on similar oc-
casions, and one might suppose an ordinary mortal
might have been content to share the praises of the
sons of Leda. But vanity is exacting; and as Scopas
sat at his festal board among his courtiers and syco-
phants, he grudged every verse that did not rehearse his
own praises. When Simonides approached to receive
the promised reward Scopas bestowed but half the ex-
pected sum, saying, "Here is payment for my portion
of thy performance; Castor and Pollux will doubtless
compensate thee for so much as relates to them." The
disconcerted poet returned to his seat amidst the laugh-
ter which followed the great man's jest. In a little
time he received a message that two young men on
:
SAPPHO 203,
horseback were waiting without and anxious to see him.

Simonides hastened to the door, but looked in vain for
the visitors. Scarcely, however, had he left the banquet-
ing hall when the roof fell in with a loud crash, bury-
ing Scopas and all his guests beneath the ruins. On
inquiring as to the appearance of the young men who
had sent for him, Simonides was satisfied that they were
no other than Castor and Pollux themselves.
SAPPHO
Sappho was a poetess who flourished in a very early
age of Greek literature. Of her works few fragments
remain, but they are enough to establish her claim to
eminent poetical genius. The story of Sappho com-
monly alluded to is that she was passionately in love
with a beautiful youth named Phaon, and failing to
obtain a return of affection she threw herself from the
promontory of Leucadia into the sea, under a supersti-
tion that those who should take that "Lover's-leap"
would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love.
Byron alludes to the story of Sappho in "Childe

Harold," Canto II.
"Childe Harold sailed and passed the barren spot

Where sad Penelope o'erlooked the wave,
And onward viewed the mount, not yet forgot,
The lover's refuge and the Lesbian's grave.
Dark Sappho could not verse immortal save
!
That breast imbued with such immortal fire?
"'Twas on a Grecian autumn's gentle eve

Childe Harold hailed Leucadia's cape afar;" etc.
Those who wish to know more of Sappho and her

"leap" are referred to the "Spectator," Nos. 223 and
229. See also Moore's "Evenings in Greece."
: —
CHAPTER XXVI
ENDYMION ORION AURORA AND TITHONUS —ACIS AND
GALATEA
DIANA AND ENDYMION

Endymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock
on Mount Latmos. One calm, clear night Diana, the
moon, looked down and saw him sleeping. The cold
heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by his sur-
passing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him,
and watched over him while he slept.
Another story was that Jupiter bestowed on him the
gift of perpetual youth united with perpetual sleep. Of
one so gifted we can have but few adventures to re-
cord. Diana, it was said, took care that his fortunes
should not suffer by his inactive life, for she made his
flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs from
the wild beasts.
The story of Endymion has a peculiar charm from
the human meaning which it so thinly veils. see We
in Endymion the young poet, his fancy and his heart
seeking in vain for that which can satisfy them, finding
his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, and nursing
there beneath the beams of the bright and silent wit-
ness the melancholy and the ardor which consumes him.
The story suggests aspiring and poetic love, a life spent
more in dreams than in reality, and an early and wel-
come death. S. G. B.
The "Endymion" of Keats is a wild and fanciful

poem, containing some exquisite poetry, as this, to the
moon
". . . The sleeping kine
Couched in thy brightness dream of fields divine.
Innumerable mountains rise, and rise,
Ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes,
:
ORION 205
And yet thy benediction passeth not

One obscure hiding-place, one little spot
Where pleasure may be sent; the nested wren
Has thy fair face within its tranquil ken;" etc., etc.
Dr. Young, in the "Night Thoughts," alludes to

Endymion thus:
. These thoughts, O night, are thine;

.
From thee they came like lovers' secret sighs,

While others slept. So Cynthia, poets feign,
In shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere,
Her shepherd cheered, of her enamoured less
Than I of thee."
Fletcher, in the "Faithful Shepherdess/' tells
"How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove,

First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes
She took eternal fire that never dies;
How she conveyed him softly in a sleep,
His temples bound with poppy, to the steep
Head of old Latmos, where she stoops each night,
Gilding the mountain with her brother's light,
To kiss her sweetest."
ORION
Orion was the son of Neptune. He was a handsome
giant and a mighty hunter. His father gave him the
power of wading through the depths of the sea, or, as
others say, of walking on its surface.
Orion loved Merope, the daughter of (Enopion, king
of Chios, and sought her in marriage. He cleared the
island of wild beasts, and brought the spoils of the chase
as presents to his beloved; but as CEnopion constantly
deferred his consent, Orion attempted to gain possession
of the maiden by violence. Her father, incensed at
this conduct, having made Orion drunk, deprived him
of his sight and cast him out on the seashore. The
blinded hero followed the sound of a Cyclops' hammer
till he reached Lemnos, and came to the forge of Vul-
can, who, taking pity on him, gave him Kedalion, one

of his men, to be his guide to the abode of the sun.
Placing Kedalion on his shoulders, Orion proceeded to

the east, and there meeting the sun-god, was restored
to sight by his beam.
After this he dwelt as a hunter with Diana, with
whom he was a favorite, and it is even said she was
about to marry him. Her brother was highly displeased
and often chid her, but to no purpose. One day, ob-
serving Orion wading through the sea with his head
just above the water, Apollo pointed it out to his sister
and maintained that she could not hit that black thing
on the sea. The archer-goddess discharged a shaft with
fatal aim. The waves rolled the dead body of Orion
to the land, and bewailing her fatal error with many
tears, Diana placed him among the stars, where he ap-
pears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and
club. Sirius, his dog, follows him, and the Pleiads fly
before him.
The Pleiads were daughters of Atlas, and nymphs of
Diana's train. One day Orion saw them and became
enamoured and pursued them. In their distress they
prayed to the gods to change their form, and Jupiter
in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them
a constellation in the sky. Though their number was
seven, only six stars are visible, for Electra, one of
them, it is said left her place that she might not behold
the ruin of Troy, for that city was founded by her son
Dardanus. The sight had such an effect on her sisters
that they have looked pale ever since.
Mr. Longfellow has a poem on the "Occultation of

Orion." The following lines are those in which he
alludes to the mythic story. We must premise that on
the celestial globe Orion is represented as robed in a
lion's skin and wielding a club. At the moment the stars
of the constellation, one by one, were quenched in the
light of the moon, the poet tells us
"Down fell the red skin of the lion

Into the river at his feet.
His mighty club no longer beat
The forehead of the bull; but he
Reeled as of yore beside the sea,
AURORA AND TITHONUS 207
When blinded by CEnopion

He sought the blacksmith at his forge,
And climbing up the narrow gorge,
Fixed his blank eyes upon the sun."
Tennyson has a different theory of the Pleiads:
"Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising through the mellow

shade,
Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid."
—Locksley Hall.
Byron alludes to the lost Pleiad:
"Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below."
See also Mrs. Hemans's verses on the same subject.
AURORA AND TITHONUS

The goddess of the Dawn, like her sister the Moon,
was at times inspired with the love of mortals. Her
greatest favorite was Tithonus, son of Laomedon, king
of Troy. She stole him away, and prevailed on Jupi-
ter to grant him immortality; but, forgetting to have
youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to
discern, to her great mortification, that he was growing
old. When his hair was quite white she left his soci-
ety; but he still had the range of her palace, lived on
ambrosial food, and was clad in celestial raiment. At
length he lost the power of using his limbs, and then
she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice
might at times be heard. Finally she turned him into
a grasshopper.
Memnon was the son of Aurora and Tithonus. He
was king of the Êthiopians, and dwelt in the extreme
east, on the shore of Ocean. He came with his war-
riors to assist the kindred of his father in the war of
Troy. King Priam received him with great honors,
and listened with admiration to his narrative of the
wonders of the ocean shore.
The very day after his arrival, Memnon, impatient
of repose, led his troops to the field. Antilochus, the
orave son of Nestor, fell by his hand, and the Greeks

were put to flight, when Achilles appeared and restored
the battle. Along and doubtful contest ensued between
him and the son of Aurora; at length victory declared
for Achilles, Memnon fell, and the Trojans fled in
dismay.
Aurora, who from her station in the sky had viewed
with apprehension the danger of her son, when she
saw him fall, directed his brothers, the Winds, to con-
vey his body to the banks of the river Esepus in Paph-
lagonia. In the evening Aurora came, accompanied
by the Hours and the Pleiads, and wept and lamented
over her son. Night, in sympathy with her grief,
spread the heaven with clouds; all nature mourned for
the offspring of the Dawn. The Êthiopians raised his
tomb on the banks of the stream in the grove of the
Nymphs, and Jupiter caused the sparks and cinders of
his funeral pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing
into two flocks, fought over the pile till they fell into
the flame. Every year at the anniversary of his death
they return and celebrate his obsequies in like manner.
Aurora remains inconsolable for the loss of her son.
Her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morning
in the form of dew-drops on the grass.
Unlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology,

there still exist some memorials of this. On the banks
of the river Nile, in Egypt, are two colossal statues,
one of which is said to be the statue of Memnon. An-
cient writers record that when the first rays of the
rising sun fall upon this statue a sound is heard to issue
from it, which they compare to the snapping of a harp-
string. There is some doubt about the identification of
the existing statue with the one described by the an-
cients, and the mysterious sounds are still more doubtful.
Yet there are not wanting some modern testimonies to
their being still audible. It has been suggested that
sounds produced by confined air making its escape from
crevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some
ground for the story. Sir Gardner Wilkinson, a late
traveller, of the highest authority, examined the statue
ACTS AND GALATEA 209
itself, and discovered that it was hollow, and that "in

the lap of the statue is a stone, which on being struck
emits a metallic sound, that might still be made use of
to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe its
powers."
The vocal statue of Memnon is a favorite subject
of allusion with the poets. Darwin, in his "Botanic Gar-
den," says:
"So to the sacred Sun in Memnon's fane

Spontaneous concords choired the matin strain;
Touched by his orient beam responsive rings
The living lyre and vibrates all its strings;
Accordant aisles the tender tones prolong,
And holy echoes swell the adoring song."
Book I., 1., 182.
ACIS AND GALATEA

Scylla was a fair virgin of Sicily, a favorite of the
Sea-Nymphs. She had many suitors, but repelled them
all, and would go to the grotto of Galatea, and tell her
how she was persecuted. One day the goddess, while
Scylla dressed her hair, listened to the story, and then
replied, "Yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the not
ungentle race of men, whom, if you will, you can repel;
but I, the daughter of Nereus, and protected by such
a band of sisters, found no escape from the passion of
the Cyclops but in the depths of the sea;" and tears
stopped her utterance, which when the pitying maiden
had wiped away with her delicate finger, and soothed
the goddess, "Tell me, dearest," said she, "the cause of
your grief." Galatea then said, "Acis was the son of
Faunus and a Naiad. His father and mother loved him
dearly, but their love was not equal to mine. For the
beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, and he
was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to
darken his cheeks. As much as I sought his society, so
much did the Cyclops seek mine; and if you ask me
whether my love for Acis or my hatred of Polyphemus
was the stronger, I cannot tell you; they were in equal
measure. O Venus, how great is thy power! this fierce
giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless stranger
escaped unharmed, who defied even Jove himself, learned

to feelwhat love was, and, touched with a passion for
me, forgot his flocks and his well-stored caverns. Then
'
for the first time he began to take some care of his

appearance, and to try to make himself agreeable; he
harrowed those coarse locks of his with a comb, and
mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harsh fea-
tures in the water, and composed his countenance. His
love of slaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood pre-
vailed no more, and ships that touched at his islan i
went away in safety. He paced up and down the sea-
shore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavy tread, and,
when weary, lay tranquilly in his cave.
"There is a cliff which projects into the sea, which
washes it on either side. Thither one day the huge
Cyclops ascended, and sat down while his flocks spread
themselves around. Laying down his staff, which would
have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail, and tak-
ing his instrument compacted of numerous pipes, he
made the hills and the waters echo the music of his
song. I lay hid under a rock by the side of my beloved
Acis, and listened to the distant strain. It was full
of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingled with pas-
sionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty.
"When he had finished he rose up, and, like a raging
bull that cannot stand still, wandered off into the woods.
Acis and I thought no more of him, till on a sudden
he came to a spot which gave him a view of us as we
sat. 'I see you/ he exclaimed, 'and I will make this the
last of your love-meetings.' His voice was a roar such
as an angry Cyclops alone could utter. iEtna trembled
at the sound. I, overcome with terror, plunged into the
water. Acis turned and fled, crying, 'Save me, Galatea,

save me, my parents !' The Cyclops pursued him, and
tearing a rock from the side of the mountain hurled it
at him. Though only a corner of it touched him, it
overwhelmed him.
"All that fate left in my power I did for Acis. 1
endowed him with the honors of his grandfather, the
river-god. The purple blood flowed out from under
the rock, but by degrees grew paler and looked like the
THE TROJAN WAR 211
stream of a river rendered turbid by rains, and in time

it became clear. The rock cleaved open, and the
water, as it gushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing
murmur."
Thus Acis was changed into a river, and the river
retains the name of Acis.
Dryden, in his "Cymon and Iphigenia," has told the

story of a clown converted into a gentleman by the
power of love, in a way that shows traces of kindred to
the old story of Galatea and the Cyclops.
"What not his father's care nor tutor's art

Could plant with pains in his unpolished heart,
The best instructor, Love, at once inspired,
As barren grounds to fruitfulness are fired.
Love taught him shame, and shame with love at strife
Soon taught the sweet civilities of life."
CHAPTER XXVII
THE TROJAN WAR
Minerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one

occasion she did a very foolish thing; she entered into
competition with Juno and Venus for the prize of
beauty. It happened thus At the nuptials of Peleus
:
and Thetis all the gods were invited with the excep-
tion of Eris, or Discord. Enraged at her exclusion,
the goddess threw a golden apple among the guests,
with the inscription, "For the fairest." Thereupon
Juno, Venus, and Minerva each claimed the apple.
Jupiter, not willing to decide in so delicate a matter,
sent the goddesses to Mount Ida, where the beautiful
shepherd Paris was tending his flocks, and to him was
committed the decision. The goddesses accordingly ap-
peared before him. Juno promised him power and
riches, Minerva glory and renown in war, and Venus
the fairest of women for his wife, each attempting to
bias his decision in her own favor. Paris decided ic
favor of Venus and gave her the golden apple, thus
making the two other goddesses his enemies. Under
the protection of Venus, Paris sailed to Greece, and
was hospitably received by Menelaus, king of Sparta.
Now Helen, the wife of Menelaus, was the very wom-
an whom Venus had destined for Paris, the fairest
of her sex. She had been sought as a bride by numer-
ous suitors, and before her decision was made known,
they all, at the suggestion of Ulysses, one of their num-
ber, took an oath that they would defend her from all
injury and avenge her cause if necessary. She chose
Menelaus, and was living with him happily when Paris
became their guest. Paris, aided by Venus, persuaded
her to elope with him, and carried her to Troy, whence
arose the famous Trojan war, the theme of the greatest
poems of antiquity, those of Homer and Virgil.
Menelaus called upon his brother chieftains of Greece
to fulfil their pledge, and join him in his efforts to
recover his wife. They generally came forward, but
Ulysses, who had married Penelope, and was very happy
in his wife and child, had no disposition to embark
in such a troublesome affair. He therefore hung back
and Palamedes was sent to urge him. When Palamedes
arrived at Ithaca Ulysses pretended to be mad. He
yoked an ass and an ox together to the plough and
began to sow salt. Palamedes, to try him, placed the
infant Telemachus before the plough, whereupon the
father turned the plough aside, showing plainly that he
was no madman, and after that could no longer refuse
to fulfil his promise. Being now himself gained for the
undertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other reluctant
chiefs, especially Achilles. This hero was the son of
that Thetis at whose marriage the apple of Discord had
been thrown among the goddesses. Thetis was herself
one of the immortals, a sea-nymph, and knowing that
her son was fated to perish before Troy if he went on
the expedition, she endeavored to prevent his going.
She sent him away to the court of King Lycomedes, and
induced him to conceal himself in the disguise of a
maiden among the daughters of the king. Ulysses, hear-
ing he was there, went disguised as a merchant to the
THE TROJAN WAR 213
palace and offered for sale female ornaments, among

which he had placed some arms. While the king's
daughters were engrossed with the other contents of
the merchant's pack, Achilles handled the weapons and
thereby betrayed himself to the keen eye of Ulysses, who
found no great difficulty in persuading him to disre-
gard his mother's prudent counsels and join his coun-
trymen in the war.
Priam was king of Troy, and Paris, the shepherd
fmd seducer of Helen, was his son. Paris had been
brought up in obscurity, because there were certain
ominous forebodings connected with him from his in-
fancy that he would be the ruin of the state. These
forebodings seemed at length likely to be realized, for
the Grecian armament now in preparation was the
greatest that had ever been fitted out. Agamemnon,
king of Mycenae, and brother of the injured Menelaus,
was chosen commander-in-chief. Achilles was their
most illustrious warrior. After him ranked Ajax, gi-
gantic in size and of great courage, but dull of intel-
lect Diomede, second only to Achilles in all the qualities
;
of a hero; Ulysses, famous for his sagacity; and Nestor,

the oldest of the Grecian chiefs, and one to whom they
all looked up for counsel. But Troy was no feeble
enemy. Priam, the king, was now old, but he had been
a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good
government at home and numerous alliances with his
neighbors. But the principal stay and support of his
throne was his son Hector, one of the noblest charac-
ters painted by heathen antiquity. He felt, from the
first, a presentiment of the fall of his country, but still
persevered in his heroic resistance, yet by no means
justified the wrong which brought this danger upon her.
He was united in marriage with Andromache, and as
a husband and father his character was not less ad-
mirable than as a warrior. The principal leaders on the
side of the Trojans, besides Hector, were Êneas and
Deiphobus, Glaucus and Sarpedon.
After two years of preparation the Greek fleet and
army assembled in the port of Aulis in Bceotia. Here
Agamemnon in hunting killed a stag which was sacred
:

to Diana, and the goddess in return visited the army
with pestilence, and produced a calm which prevented
the ships from leaving the port. Calchas, the sooth-
sayer, thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgin
goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a
virgin on her altar, and that none other but the daughter
of the offender would be acceptable. Agamemnon, how-
ever reluctant, yielded his consent, and the maiden
Iphigenia was sent for under the pretence that she was
to be married to Achilles. When
she was about to
be sacrificed the goddess relented and snatched her
away, leaving a hind in her place, and Iphigenia, en-
veloped in a cloud, was carried to Tauris, where Diana
made her priestess of her temple.
Tennyson, in his "Dream of Fair Women," makes

Iphigenia thus describe her feelings at the moment of
sacrifice
"I was cut off from hope in that sad place,

Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears;
My father held his hand upon his face;
I, blinded by my tears,
"Still strove to speak ; my

voice was thick with sighs,
As in a dream. Dimly I could descry
The stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes,
Waiting to see me die.
"The tall masts quivered as they lay afloat,
The temples and the people and the shore;
One drew a sharp knife through my tender throat
Slowly, —and—nothing more."
The wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and
brought the forces to the coast of Troy. The Trojans
came to oppose their landing, and at the first onset Pro-
:esilaus fell by the hand of Hector. Protesilaus had
left at home his wife, Laodamia, who was most ten-
derly attached to him. When the news of his death
reached her she implored the gods to be allowed to con-
verse with him only three hours. The request was
granted. Mercury led Protesilaus back to the upper
world, and when he died a second time Laodamia died
with him. There was a story that the nymphs planted
—
THE ILIAD ;
215
elm trees round his grave which grew very well till they
were high enough to command a view of Troy, and
then withered away, while fresh branches sprang from
the roots.
Wordsworth has taken the story of Protesilaus and

Laodamia for the subject of a poem. It seems the
oracle had declared that victory should be the lot of
that party from which should fall the first victim to
the war. The poet represents Protesilaus, on his brief
return to earth, as relating to Laodamia the story of
his fate:
" 'The wished-for wind was given ; I then revolved
The oracle, upon the silent sea;
And if no worthier led the way, resolved
That of a thousand vessels mine should be
The foremost prow impressing to the strand,
Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.
"'Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang
When of thy loss I thought, beloved wife!
On thee too fondly did my memory hang,
And on the joys we shared in mortal life,
The paths which we had trod, —these fountains, flowers;
My new planned cities and unfinished towers.
"'But should suspense permit the foe to cry,
"Behold they tremble haughty their array,
!
Yet of their number no one dares to die?"

In soul I swept the indignity away:
Old frailties then recurred: but lofty thought
In act embodied my deliverance wrought/
". . . upon the side

Of
Hellespont (such faith was entertained)
A knot of spiry trees for ages grew
From out the tomb of him for whom she died;
And ever when such stature they had gained
That Ilium's walls were subject to their view,
The trees' tall summits withered at the sight,
A constant interchange of growth and blight!"
"the iliad"
The war continued without decisive results for nine
years.Then an event occurred which seemed likely to
be fatal to the cause of the Greeks, and that was a
quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon. It is at this
point that the great poem of Homer, "The Iliad," be-
gins. The Greeks, though unsuccessful against Troy,
had taken the neighboring and allied cities, and in the
division of the spoil a female captive, by name Chry-
seis, daughter of Chryses, priest of Apollo, had fallen
to the share of Agamemnon. Chryses came bearing the
sacred emblems of his office, and begged the release of
his daughter. Agamemnon refused. Thereupon Chry-
ses implored Apollo to afflict the Greeks till they should
be forced to yield their prey. Apollo granted the prayer
of his priest, and sent pestilence into the Grecian camp.
Then a council was called to deliberate how to allay the
wrath of the gods and avert the plague. Achilles boldly
charged their misfortunes upon Agamemnon as caused
by his withholding Chryseis. Agamemnon, enraged,
consented to relinquish his captive, but demanded that
Achilles should yield to him in her stead Briseis, a
maiden who had fallen to Achilles' share in the division
of the spoil. Achilles submitted, but forthwith declared
that he would take no further part in the war. He
withdrew his forces from the general camp and openly
avowed his intention of returning home to Greece.
The gods and goddesses interested themselves as much
in this famous war as the parties themselves. It was
well known to them that fate had decreed that Troy
should fall, at last, if her enemies should persevere and
not voluntarily abandon the enterprise. Yet there was
room enough left for chance to excite by turns the hopes
and fears of the powers above who took part with
either side. Juno and Minerva, in consequence of the
slight put upon their charms by Paris, were hostile to
the Trojans; Venus for the opposite cause favored
them. Venus enlisted her admirer Mars on the same
side, but Neptune favored the Greeks. Apollo was
neutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the other,
and Jove himself, though he loved the good King Priam,
yet exercised a degree of impartiality; not, however,
without exceptions.
Thetis, the mother of Achilles, warmly resented the
injury done to her son. She repaired immediately to
"THE ILIAD" 217
Jove's palace and besought him to make the Greeks re-

pent of their injustice to Achilles by granting success
to the Trojan arms. Jupiter consented., and in the bat-
tle which ensued the Trojans were completely success-
ful. The Greeks were driven from the field and took
refuge in their ships.
Then Agamemnon called a council of his wisest and
bravest" chiefs. Xestor advised that an embassy should
be sent to Achilles to persuade him to return to the
field; that Agamemnon should yield the maiden, the
cause of the dispute, with ample gifts to atone for the
wrong he had done. Agamemnon consented, and
Ulysses, Ajax, and Phcenix were sent to carry to
Achilles the penitent message. They performed that
duty, but Achilles was deaf to their entreaties. He
positively refused to return to the field, and persisted
in his resolution to embark for Greece without delay.
The Greeks had constructed a rampart around their
ships, and now instead of besieging Troy they were in
a manner besieged themselves, within their rampart.
The next day after the unsuccessful embassy to Achil-
les, a battle was fought, and the Trojans, favored by
Jove, were successful, and succeeded in forcing a pas-
sage through the Grecian rampart, and were about to
set fire to the ships. Neptune, seeing the Greeks so
pressed, came to their rescue. He appeared in the form
of Calchas the prophet, encourag ed the warriors with
his shouts, and appealed to each individually till he
raised their ardor to such a pitch that they forced the
Trojans to give way. Ajax performed prodigies of
valor, and at length encountered Hector. Ajax shouted
defiance, to which Hector replied, and hurled his lance
at the huge warrior. It was well aimed and struck
Ajax, where the belts that bore his sword and shield
crossed each other on the breast. The double guard
prevented its penetrating and it fell harmless. Then
Ajax, seizing a huge stone, one of those that served to
prop the ships, hurled it at Hector. It struck him in
the neck and stretched him on the plain. His followers
instantly seized him and bore him off, stunned and
wounded.
While Neptune was thus aiding the Greeks and driv-
ing back the Trojans, Jupiter saw nothing of what was
going on, for his attention had been drawn from the
field by the wiles of Juno. That goddess had arrayed
herself in all her charms, and to crown all had bor-
rowed of Venus her girdle, called "Cestus," which had
the effect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a de-
gree that they were quite irresistible. So prepared, Juno
went to join her husband, who sat on Olympus watch-
ing the battle. When he beheld her she looked so charm-
ing that the fondness of his early love revived, and,
forgetting the contending armies and all other affairs of
state, he thought only of her and let the battle go as
it would.
But this absorption did not continue long, and when,
upon turning his eyes downward, he beheld Hector
stretched on the plain almost lifeless from pain and
bruises, he dismissed Juno in a rage, commanding her
to send Iris and Apollo to him. When Iris came he
sent her with a stern message to Neptune, ordering him
instantly to quit the field. Apollo was despatched to
heal Hector's bruises and to inspirit his heart. These
orders were obeyed with such speed that, while the bat-
tle still raged, Hector returned to the field and Neptune
betook himself to his own dominions.
An arrow from Paris's bow wounded Machaon, son
of iEsculapius, who inherited his father's art of heal-
ing, and was therefore of great value to the Greeks as
their surgeon, besides being one of their bravest war-
riors. Nestor took Machaon in his chariot and conveyed
him from the field. As they passed the ships of Achil-
les, that hero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot
of Nestor and recognized the old chief, but could not
discern who the wounded chief was. So calling Patro-
clus, his companion and dearest friend, he sent him to
Nestor's tent to inquire.
Patroclus, arriving at Nestor's tent, saw Machaon
wounded, and having told the cause of his coming would
have hastened away, but Nestor detained him, to tell
him the extent of the Grecian calamities. He reminded
him also how, at the time of departing for Troy, Achilles
THE ILIAD 219
and himself had been charged by their respective fathers

with different advice: Achilles to aspire to the highest
pitch of glory, Patroclus, as the elder, to keep watch
over his friend, and to guide his inexperience. "Now,"
said Nestor, "is the time for such influence. If the
gods so please, thou mayest win him back to the com
mon cause; but if not let him at least send his soldiers
to the field, and come thou, Patroclus, clad in his armor,
and perhaps the very sight of it may drive back the
Trojans."
Patroclus was strongly moved with this address, and
hastened back to Achilles, revolving in his mind all he
had seen and heard. He told the prince the sad con-
dition of affairs at the camp of their late associates:
Diomede, Ulysses, Agamemnon, Machaon, all wounded,
the rampart broken down, the enemy among the ships
preparing to burn them, and thus to cut off all means
of return to Greece. While they spoke the flames burst
forth from one of the ships. Achilles, at the sight, re-
lented so far as to grant Patroclus his request to lead
the Myrmidons (for so were Achilles' soldiers called)
to the field, and to lend him his armor, that he might
thereby strike more terror into the minds of the Tro-
jans. Without delay the soldiers were marshalled,
Patroclus put on the radiant armor and mounted the
chariot of Achilles, and led forth the men ardent for
battle. But before he went, Achilles strictly charged
him that he should be content with repelling the foe.
"Seek not," said he, "to press the Trojans without me,
lest thou add still more to the disgrace already mine."
Then exhorting the troops to do their best he dismissed
them full of ardor to the fight.
Patroclus and his Myrmidons at once plunged into
the contest where it raged hottest at the sight of which
;
the joyful Grecians shouted and the ships reechoed the

acclaim. The Trojans, at the sight of the well-known
armor, struck with terror, looked everywhere for refuge.
First those who had got possession of the ship and set
it on fire left and allowed the Grecians to retake it and
extinguish the flames. Then the rest of the Trojans fled

in dismay. Ajax, Menelaus, and the two sons of Nestor
performed prodigies of valor. Hector was forced to
turn his horses' heads and retire from the enclosure,
leaving his men entangled in the fosse to escape as they
could. Patroclus drove them before him, slaying many,
none daring to make a stand against him.
At last Sarpedon, son of Jove, ventured to oppose
himself in fight to Patroclus. Jupiter looked down upon
him and would have snatched him from the fate which
awaited him, but Juno hinted that if he did so it would
induce all others of the inhabitants of heaven to inter-
pose in like manner whenever any of their offspring
were endangered; to which reason Jove yielded. Sarpe-
don threw his spear, but missed Patroclus, but Patroclus
threw his with better success. It pierced Sarpedon's
breast and he fell, and, calling to his friends to save
his body from the foe, expired. Then a furious con-
test arose for the possession of the corpse. The Greeks
succeeded and stripped Sarpedon of his armor but Jove ;
would not allow the remains of his son to be dishonored,

and by his command Apollo snatched from the midst of
the combatants the body of Sarpedon and committed it
to the care of the twin brothers Death and Sleep, by
whom it was transported to Lycia, the native land of
Sarpedon, where it received due funeral rites.
Thus far Patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish
in repelling the Trojans and relieving his countrymen,
but now came a change of fortune. Hector, borne in
his chariot, confronted him. Patroclus threw a vast
stone at Hector, which missed its aim, but smote Ce-
briones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the
car. Hector leaped from the chariot to rescue his
friend, and Patroclus also descended to complete his
victory. Thus the two heroes met face to face. At
this decisive moment the poet, as if reluctant to give
Hector the glory, records that Phcebus took part against
Patroclus. He struck the helmet from his head and the
lance from his hand. At the same moment an obscure
Trojan wounded him in the back, and Hector, press-
ing forward, pierced him with his spear. He fell mor-
tally wounded.
Then arose a tremendous conflict for the body of
;
THE ILIAD 1
221
Patroclus, but his armor was at once taken possession

of by Hector, who retiring a short distance divested
himself of his own armor and put on that of Achilles,
then returned to the right. Ajax and Menelaus de-
fended the body, and Hector and his bravest warriors
struggled to capture it. The battle raged with equal
fortunes, when Jove enveloped the whole face of heaven
with a dark cloud. The lightning flashed, the thunder
roared, and Ajax, looking round for some one whom
he might despatch to Achilles to tell him of the death
of his friend, and of the imminent danger that his re-
mains would fall into the hands of the enemy, could
see no suitable messenger. It was then that he ex-
claimed in those famous lines so often quoted,
"Father of heaven and earth! deliver thou

Achaia's host from darkness clear the skies
;
Give day; and, since thy sovereign will is such,

Destruction with it; but, O, give us day."
—
Cowper,
Or, as rendered by Pope,

". .Lord of earth and air!
.
O king! O father! hear my humble prayer!

Dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore;
Give me to see and Ajax asks no more;
If Greece must perish we thy will obey,
But let us perish in the face of day."
Jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds.

Then Ajax sent Antilochus to Achilles with the intelli-
gence of Patroclus's death, and of the conflict raging
for his remains. The Greeks at last succeeded in bear-
ing off the body to the ships, closely pursued by Hector
and ./Eneas and the rest of the Trojans.
Achilles heard the fate of his friend with such dis-
tress that Antilochus feared for a while that he would
destroy himself. His groans reached the ears of his
mother, Thetis, far down in the deeps of ocean where
she abode, and she hastened to him to inquire the cause.
She found him overwhelmed with self-reproach that
he had indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his
friend to fall a victim to it. But his only consolation
was the hope of revenge. He would fly instantly in
search of Hector. But his mother reminded him that
he was now without armor, and promised him, if he
would but wait till the morrow, she would procure for
him a suit of armor from Vulcan more than equal tc
that he had lost. He consented, and Thetis immediately
repaired to Vulcan's palace. She found him busy at
his forge making tripods for his own use, so artfully
constructed that they moved forward of their own ac-
cord when wanted, and retired again when dismissed.
On hearing the request of Thetis, Vulcan immediately
laid aside his work and hastened to comply with her
wishes. He fabricated a splendid suit of armor for
Achilles, first a shield adorned with elaborate devices,
then a helmet crested with gold, then a corselet and
greaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly adapted
to his form, and of consummate workmanship. It was
all done in one night, and Thetis, receiving it, descended
with it to earth, and laid it down at Achilles' feet at the
dawn of day.
The first glow of pleasure that Achilles had felt since
the death of Patroclus was at the sight of this splendid
armor. And now, arrayed in it, he went forth into the
camp, calling all the chiefs to council. When they were
all assembled he addressed them. Renouncing his dis-
pleasure against Agamemnon and bitterly lamenting the
miseries that had resulted from it, he called on them to
proceed at once to the field. Agamemnon made a suit-
able reply, laying all the blame on Ate, the goddess of *
discord; and thereupon complete reconcilement took
place between the heroes.
Then Achilles went forth to battle inspired with a
rage and thirst for vengeance that made him irresistible.
The bravest warriors fled before him or fell by his
?ance. Hector, cautioned by Apollo, kept aloof but
;
the god, assuming the form of one of Priam's sons,

Lycaon, urged iEneas to encounter the terrible war-
rior. yEneas, though he felt himself unequal, did not
decline the combat. He hurled his spear with all his
force against the shield the work of Vulcan. It was
iormed of five metal plates; two were of brass, two
THE ILIAD 223
of tin, and one of gold. The spear pierced two thick-

nesses, but was stopped in the third. Achilles threw his
with better success. It pierced through the shield of
iEneas, but glanced near his shoulder and made no
wound. Then yEneas seized a stone, such as two men
of modern times could hardly lift, and was about to
throw it, and Achilles, with sword drawn, was about
to rush upon him, when Neptune, who looked out upon
the contest, moved with pity for yEneas, who he saw
would surely fall a victim if not speedily rescued, spread
a cloud between the combatants, and lifting Êneas from
the ground, bore him over the heads of warriors and
steeds to the rear of the battle. Achilles, when the
mist cleared away, looked round in vain for his ad-
versary, and acknowledging the prodigy, turned his arms
against other champions. But none dared stand before
him, and Priam looking down from the city walls be-
held his whole army in full flight towards the city. He
gave command to open wide the gates to receive the
fugitives, and to shut them as soon as the Trojans
should have passed, lest the enemy should enter like-
wise. But Achilles was so close in pursuit that that
would have been impossible if Apollo had not, in the
form of Agenor, Priam's son, encountered Achilles for
a while, then turned to fly, and taken the way apart
from the city. Achilles pursued and had chased his
supposed victim far from the walls, when Apollo dis-
closed himself, and Achilles, perceiving how he had been
deluded, gave up the chase.
But when the rest had escaped into the town Hector
stood without determined to await the combat. His
old father called to him from the walls and begged him
to retire nor tempt the encounter. His mother, Hecuba,
also besought him to the same effect, but all in vain.
"How can I," said he to himself, "by whose command
the people went to this day's contest, where so many
have fallen, seek safety for myself against a single foe?
But what if I offer him to yield up Helen and all her
treasures and ample of our own beside ? Ah, no it is!
too late. He would not even hear me through, but slay

me while I spoke." While he thus ruminated Achilles
approached, terrible as Mars, his armor flashing light-
ning as he moved. At that sight Hector's heart failed
him and he fled. Achilles swiftly pursued. They ran,
still keeping near the walls, till they had thrice encircled
the city. As often as Hector approached the walls
Achilles intercepted him and forced him to keep out in
a wider circle. But Apollo sustained Hector's strength
and would not let him sink in weariness. Then Pallas,
assuming the form of Deiphobus, Hector's bravest
brother, appeared suddenly at his side. Hector saw him
with delight, and thus strengthened stopped his flight
and turned to meet Achilles. Hector threw his spear,
which struck the shield of Achilles and bounded back.
He turned to receive another from the hand of Deipho-
bus, but Deiphobus was gone. Then Hector understood
his doom and said, "Alas! it is plain this is my hour
to die! I thought Deiphobus at hand, but Pallas de-
ceived me, and he is still in Troy. But I will not fall
inglorious." So saying he drew his falchion from his
side and rushed at once to combat. Achilles, secured
behind his shield, waited the approach of Hector. When
he came within reach of his spear, Achilles choosing
with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves
the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part and
Hector fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, "Spare my
body! Let my parents ransom it, and let me receive
funeral rites from the sons and daughters of Troy." To
which Achilles replied, "Dog, name not ransom nor pity
to me, on whom you have brought such dire distress.
No! trust me, naught shall save thy carcass from the
dogs. Though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold
were offered, I would refuse it all."
So saying he stripped the body of its armor, and
fastening cords to the feet tied them behind his chariot,
leaving the body to trail along the ground. Then mount-
ing the chariot he lashed the steeds and so dragged the
body to and fro before the city. What words can tell
the grief of King Priam and Queen Hecuba at this
sight! His people could scarce restrain the old king
from rushing forth. He threw himself in the dust and
besought them each by name to give him way. Hec-
THE ILIAD 225
uba's distress was not less violent. The citizens stood

found them weeping. The sound of the mourning
reached the ears of Andromache, the wife of Hector,
as she sat among her maidens at work, and anticipating
evil she went forth to the wall. When she saw the
sight there presented, she would have thrown herself
headlong from the wall, but fainted and fell into the
arms of her maidens. Recovering, she bewailed her
fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a
captive, and her son dependent for his bread on the
charity of strangers.
When Achilles and the Greeks had taken their re-
venge on the killer of Patroclus they busied themselves
in paying due funeral rites to their friend. pile was A
erected, and the body burned with due solemnity; and
then ensued games of strength and skill, chariot races,
wrestling, boxing, and archery. Then the chiefs sat
down to the funeral banquet and after that retired to
rest. But Achilles neither partook of the feast nor of
sleep. The recollection of his lost friend kept him
awake, remembering their companionship in toil and
dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep. Before the
earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot
his swift steeds, he fastened Hector's body to be dragged
behind. Twice he dragged him around the tomb of
Patroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust.
But Apollo would not permit the body to be torn or
disfigured with all this abuse, but preserved it free from
all taint or defilement.
While Achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing
brave Hector, Jupiter in pity summoned Thetis to his
presence. He told her to go to her son and prevail on
him to restore the body of Hector to his friends. Then
Jupiter sent Iris to King Priam to encourage him to go
to Achilles and beg the body of his son. Iris delivered
her message, and Priam immediately prepared to obey.
He opened his treasuries and took out rich garments and
cloths, with ten talents in gold and two splendid tripods
and a golden cup of matchless workmanship. Then he
called to his sons and bade them draw forth his litter
and place in it the various articles designed for a ransom
to Achilles. When all was ready, the old king with a
single companion as aged as himself, the herald Idseus,
drove forth from the gates, parting there with Hecuba,
his queen, and all his friends, who lamented him as
going to certain death.
But Jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable
king, sent Mercury to be his guide and protector. Mer-
cury, assuming the form of a young warrior, presented
himself to the aged couple, and while at the sight of him
they hesitated whether to fly or yield, the god ap-
proached, and grasping Priam's hand offered to be their
guide to Achilles' tent. Priam gladly accepted his
offered service, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed
the reins and soon conveyed them to the tent of Achilles.
Mercury's wand put to sleep all the guards, and without
hinderance he introduced Priam into the tent where
Achilles sat, attended by two of his warriors. The old
king threw himself at the feet of Achilles, and kissed
those terrible hands which had destroyed so many of his
sons. "Think, O Achilles," he said, "of thy own father,
full of days like me, and trembling on the gloomy verge
of life. Perhaps even now some neighbor chief op-
presses him and there is none at hand to succor him in
his distress. Yet doubtless knowing that Achilles lives he
still rejoices, hoping that one day he shall see thy face
again. But no comfort cheers me, whose bravest sons, so
late the flower of Ilium, all have fallen. Yet one I had,
one more than all the rest the strength of my age, whom,
fighting for his country, thou hast slain. I come to
redeem his body, bringing inestimable ransom with me.
Achilles! reverence the gods! recollect thy father! for
his sake show compassion to me !" These words moved
Achilles, and he wept ; remembering by turns his absent
father and his lost friend. Moved with pity of Priam's
silver locks and beard, he raised him from the earth,
and thus spake "Priam, I know that thou hast reached
:
this place conducted by some god, for without aid divine

no mortal even in his prime of youth had dared the
attempt. I grant thy request, moved thereto by the
evident will of Jove." So saying he arose, and went
forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge
THE FALL OF TROY 227
the litter, leaving two mantles and a robe for the cover-
ing of the body, which they placed on the litter, and
spread the garments over it, that not unveiled it should
be borne back to Troy. Then Achilles dismissed the old
king with his attendants, having first pledged himself to
allow a truce of twelve days for the funeral solemnities.
As the litter approached the city and was descried from
the walls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on
the face of their hero. Foremost of all, the mother and
the wife of Hector came, and at the sight of the lifeless
body renewed their lamentations. The people all wept
with them, and to the going down of the sun there was
no pause or abatement of their grief.
The next day preparations were made for the funeral
solemnities. For nine days the people brought wood
and built the pile, and on the tenth they placed the body
on the summit and applied the torch; while all Troy
thronging forth encompassed the pile. When it had
completely burned, they quenched the cinders with wine,
collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn,
which they buried in the earth, and reared a pile of
stones over the spot.
"Such honors Ilium to her hero paid,

And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade."
—Pope.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE FALL OF TROY —RETURN OF THE GREEKS —ORESTES
AND ELECTRA
THE FALL OF TROY

The story of the Iliad ends with the death of Hec-
tor, it is from the Odyssey and later poems that
and
we learn the fate of the other heroes. After the death
of Hector, Troy did not immediately fall, but receiv-
ing aid from new allies still continued its resistance.
One of these allies was Memnon, the Ethiopian prince,
whose story we have already told. Another was Pen-
queen of the Amazons, who came with a band
thesilea,
of female warriors. All the authorities attest their valor
and the fearful effect of their war cry. Penthesilea
slew many of the bravest warriors, but was at last slain
by Achilles. But when the hero bent over his fallen
foe, and contemplated her beauty, youth, and valor, he
bitterly regretted his victory. Thersites, an insolent
brawler and demagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in
consequence slain by the hero.
Achilles by chance had seen Polyxena, daughter of
King Priam, perhaps on the occasion of the truce which
was allowed the Trojans for the burial of Hector. He
was captivated with her charms, and to win her in mar-
riage agreed to use his influence with the Greeks to
grant peace to Troy. While in the temple of Apollo,
negotiating the marriage, Paris discharged at him a
poisoned arrow, which, guided by Apollo, wounded
Achilles in the heel, the only vulnerable part about him.
For Thetis his mother had dipped him when an infant
in the river Styx, which made every part of him invul-
nerable except the heel by which she held him. 1
The body of Achilles so treacherously slain was
rescued by Ajax and Ulysses. Thetis directed the
Greeks to bestow her son's armor on the hero who of
all the survivors should be judged most deserving of it.
Ajax and Ulysses were the only claimants; a select
number of the other chiefs were appointed to award
the prize. It was awarded to Ulysses, thus placing wis-
dom before valor; whereupon Ajax slew himself. On
the spot where his blood sank into the earth a flower
sprang up, called the hyacinth, bearing on its leaves the
first two letters of the name of Ajax, Ai, the Greek
for "woe." Thus Ajax is a claimant with the boy
Hyacinthus for the honor of giving birth to this flower.
There is a species of Larkspur which represents the
hyacinth of the poets in preserving the memory of this
event, the Delphinium Ajacis —
Ajax's Larkspur.
1 The story of the invulnerability of Achilles is not found in Homer,

and is inconsistent with his account. For how could Achilles require the
aid of celestial armor if he were invulnerable?
It was now discovered that Troy could not be taken

but by the aid of the arrows of Hercules. They were
in possession of Philoctetes, the friend who had been
with Hercules at the last and lighted his funeral pyre.
Philoctetes had joined the Grecian expedition against*
Troy, but had accidentally wounded his foot with one
of the poisoned arrows, and the smell from his wound
proved so offensive that his companions carried him to
the isle- of Lemnos and him there. Diomed was
left
now sent to induce him to rejoin the army. He suc-
ceeded. Philoctetes was cured of his wound by Ma-
chaon, and Paris was the first victim of the fatal arrows.
In his distress Paris bethought him of one whom in
his prosperity he had forgotten. This was the nymph
(Enone, whom he had married when a youth, and had
abandoned for the fatal beauty Helen. (Enone, remem-
bering the wrongs she had suffered, refused to heal the
wound, and Paris went back to Troy and died. (Enone
quickly repented, and hastened after him with remedies,
but came too late, and in her grief hung herself. 1
There was in Troy a celebrated statue of Minerva
called the Palladium. It was said to have fallen from
heaven, and the belief was that the city could not be
taken so long as this statue remained within it. Ulysses
and Diomed entered the city in disguise and succeeded
in obtaining the Palladium, which they carried off to the
Grecian camp.
But Troy still held out, and the Greeks began to
despair of ever subduing it by force, and by advice of
Ulysses resolved to resort to stratagem. They pre-
tended to be making preparations to abandon the siege,
and a portion of the ships were withdrawn and lay hid
behind a neighboring island. The Greeks then con-
structed an immense wooden horse, which they gave out
was intended as a propitiatory offering to Minerva, but in
fact was filled with armed men. The remaining Greeks
then betook themselves to their ships and sailed away,
as if for a final departure. The Trojans, seeing the en-
1 Tennyson has chosen OZnone as the subject of a short poem; but he

has omitted the most poetical part of the story, the return of Paris
wounded, her cruelty and subsequent repentance.
campment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded the
enemy to have abandoned the siege. The gates were
thrown open, and the whole population issued forth
rejoicing at the long-prohibited liberty of passing freely
over the scene of the late encampment. The great
horse was the chief object of curiosity. All wondered
what it could be for. Some recommended to take it
into the city as a trophy; others felt afraid of it.
While they hesitate, Laocoon, the priest of Neptune,
exclaims, "What madness, citizens, is this? Have yon
not learned enough of Grecian fraud to be on your
guard against it? For my part, I fear the Greeks even
when they offer gifts." 1 So saying he threw his lance
at the horse's side. It struck, and a hollow sound
reverberated like a groan. Then perhaps the people
might have taken his advice and destroyed the fatal
horse and all its contents; but just at that moment a
group of people appeared, dragging forward one who
seemed a prisoner and a Greek. Stupefied with terror,
he was brought before the chiefs, who reassured him,
promising that his life should be spared on condition of
his returning true answers to the questions asked him.
He informed them that he was a Greek, Sinon by
name, and that in consequence of the malice of Ulysses
he had been left behind by his countrymen at their de-
parture. With regard to the wooden horse, he told
them that it was a propitiatory offering to Minerva,
and made so huge for the express purpose of preventing
its being carried within the city; for Calchas the prophet
had told them that if the Trojans took possession of
it they would assuredly triumph over the Greeks. This
language turned the tide of the people's feelings and
they began to think how they might best secure the mon-
strous horse and the favorable auguries connected with
it, when suddenly a prodigy occurred which left no
room to doubt. There appeared, advancing over the
sea, two immense serpents. They came upon the land,
and the crowd fled in all directions. The serpents ad-
vanced directly to the spot where Laocoon stood with
his two sons. They first attacked the children, winding
: :
round their bodies and breathing their pestilential breath

in their faces. The father, attempting to rescue them,
is next seized and involved in the serpents' coils. He
struggles to tear them away, but they overpower all his
efforts and strangle him and the children in their poison-
ous folds. This event was regarded as a clear indication
of the displeasure of the gods at Laocoon's irreverent
treatment of the wooden horse, which they no longer
hesitated to regard as a sacred object, and prepared to
introduce with due solemnity into the city. This was
done with songs and triumphal acclamations, and the
day closed with festivity. In the night the armed men
who were enclosed in the body of the horse, being let
out by the traitor Sinon, opened the gates of the city
to their friends, who had returned under cover of the
night. The city was set on fire; the people, overcome
with feasting and sleep, put to the sword, and Troy
completely subdued.
One of the most celebrated groups of statuary in ex-

istence is that of Laocoon and his children in the em-
brace of the serpents. A
cast of it is owned by the Bos-
ton Athenaeum; the original is in the Vatican at Rome.
The following lines are from the "Childe Harold" of
Byron
"Now turning to the Vatican go see
Laocoon's torture dignifying pain;
A father's love and mortal's agony
With an immortal's —
patience blending; vain
The struggle! vain against the coiling strain
And gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp t
The old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain

Rivets the living links the enormous asp
;
Enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp."
poets will also occasionally borrow a classi-

The comic
cal allusion. The following is from Swift's "Descrip-
tion of a City Shower"
"Boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits,

While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits,
And ever and anon with frightful din
The leather sounds ; he trembles from within.
So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed
Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed,
(Those bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do,
Instead of paying chairmen, run them through) ;
Laocoon struck the outside with a spear.
And each imprisoned champion quaked with fear."
King Priam lived to see the downfall of his kingdom

and was slain at last on the fatal night when the Greeks
took the city. He had armed himself and was about
to mingle with the combatants, but was prevailed on by
Hecuba, his aged queen, to take refuge with herself
and his daughters as a suppliant at the altar of Jupiter.
While there, his youngest son Polites, pursued by
Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles, rushed in wounded, and
expired at the feet of his father; whereupon Priam,
overcome with indignation, hurled his spear with feeble
hand against Pyrrhus, 1 and was forthwith slain by him.
Queen Hecuba and her daughter Cassandra were
carried captives to Greece. Cassandra had been loved
by Apollo, and he gave her the gift of prophecy; but
afterwards offended with her, he rendered the gift un-
availing by ordaining that her predictions should never
be believed. Polyxena, another daughter, who had
been loved by Achilles, was demanded by the ghost of
that warrior, and was sacrificed by the Greeks upon his
tomb.
MENELATJS AND HELEN
Our readers will be anxious to know the fate of
Helen, the fair but guilty occasion of so much slaughter.
On the fall of Troy Menelaus recovered possession of
his wife, who had not ceased to love him, though she
had yielded to the might of Venus and deserted him for
another. After the death of Paris she aided the Greeks
secretly on several occasions, and in particular when
Ulysses and Diomed entered the city in disguise to
carry off the Palladium. She saw and recognized
Ulysses, but kept the secret and even assisted them in
obtaining the image. Thus she became reconciled to
1 Pyrrhus's exclamation, "Not such aid nor such defenders does the
time require," has become proverbial. See Proverbial Expressions.
AGAMEMNON, ORESTES, AND ELECTRA 233
her husband, and they were among the first to leave

the shores of Troy for their native land. But having
incurred the displeasure of the gods they were driven by
storms from shore to shore of the Mediterranean, visit-
ing Cyprus, Phoenicia, and Egypt. In Egypt they were
kindly treated and presented with rich gifts, of which
Helen's share was a golden spindle and a basket on
wheels. The basket was to hold the wool and spools
for the queen's work.
Dyer, in his poem of the "Fleece," thus alludes to

this incident:
". many yet adhere
•••«•«
, .
To the ancient distaff, at the bosom fixed,

Casting the whirling spindle as they walk.
•
This was of old, in no inglorious days,

The mode of spinning, when the Egyptian prince
A golden distaff gave that beauteous nymph,
Too beauteous Helen; no uncourtly gift."
Milton also alludes to a famous recipe for an invig-

orating draught, called Nepenthe, which the Egyptian
queen gave to Helen:
"Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,
Is of such power to stir up joy as this,
To life so friendly or so cool to thirst."
— Comus.
Menelaus and Helen at length arrived in safety at
Sparta, resumed their royal dignity, and lived and
reigned in splendor; and when Telemachus, the son of
Ulysses, in search of his father, arrived at Sparta, he
found Menelaus and Helen celebrating the marriage of
their daughter Hermione to Neoptolemus, son of
Achilles.
AGAMEMNON, ORESTES, AND ELECTRA

Agamemnon, the general-in-chief of the Greeks, the
brother of Menelaus, and who had been drawn into
the quarrel to avenge his brother's wrongs, not his own,
was not so fortunate in the issue. During his absence

his wife Clytemnestra had been false to him, and when
his return was expected, she with her paramour, iEgis-
thus, laid a plan for his destruction, and at the banquet
given to celebrate his return, murdered him.
It was intended by the conspirators to slay his son
Orestes also, a lad not yet old enough to be an object
of apprehension, but from whom, if he should be suf-
fered to grow up, there might be danger. Electra, the
sister of Orestes, saved her brother's life by sending
him secretly away to his uncle Strophius, King of
Phocis. In the palace of Strophius Orestes grew up
with the king's son Pylades, and formed with him that
ardent friendship which has become proverbial. Electra
frequently reminded her brother by messengers of the
duty of avenging his father's death, and when grown up
he consulted the oracle of Delphi, which confirmed him
in his design. He therefore repaired in disguise to
Argos, pretending to be a messenger >:om Strophius, who
had come to announce the death of Orestes, and brought
the ashes of the deceased in a funeral urn. After visit-
ing his father's tomb and sacrificing upon it, according
to the rites of the ancients, he made himself known to
his sister Electra, and soon after slew both iEgisthus
and Clytemnestra.
This revolting act, the slaughter of a mother by her
son, though alleviated by the guilt of the victim and
the express command of the gods, did not fail to awaken
in the breasts of the ancients the same abhorrence that
it does in ours. The Eumenides, avenging deities,
seized upon Orestes, and drove him frantic from land
to land. Pylades accompanied him in his wanderings
and watched over him. At length, in answer to a second
appeal to the oracle, he was directed to go to Tauris in
Scythia, and to bring thence a statue of Diana which
was believed to have fallen from heaven. Accordingly
Orestes and Pylades went to Tauris, where the barbar-
ous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess
all strangers who fell into their hands. The two friends
were seized and carried bound to the temple to be made
victims. But the priestess of Diana was no other than
!
AGAMEMNON, ORESTES, AND ELECTRA 235
Iphigenia, the sister of Orestes, who, our readers will

remember, was snatched away by Diana at the moment
when she was about to be sacrificed. Ascertaining from
the prisoners who they were, Iphigenia disclosed herself
to them, and the three made their escape with the statue
of the goddess, and returned to Mycenae.
But Orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance
of the Erinyes. At length he took refuge with Minerva
at Athens. The goddess afforded him protection, and
appointed the court of Areopagus to decide his fate.
The Erinyes brought forward their accusation, and
Orestes made the command of the Delphic oracle his
excuse. When the court voted and the voices were
equally divided, Orestes was acquitted by the command
of Minerva.
Byron, in "Childe Harold,'' Canto IV., alludes to the

story of Orestes:
"O thou who never yet of human wrong

Left the unbalanced Nemesis
scale, great
Thou who from the abyss,
didst call the Furies
And round Orestes bade them howl and hiss,
For that unnatural retribution, just, —
Had it but been from hands less near, in this, —
Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust !"
Oneof the most pathetic scenes in the ancient drama

is that inwhich Sophocles represents the meeting of
Orestes and Electra, on his return from Phocis. Ores-
tes, mistaking Electra for one of the domestics, and
desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till the hour of
vengeance should arrive, produces the urn in which
his ashes are supposed to rest. Electra, believing him
to be really dead, takes the urn and, embracing it,
pours forth her grief in language full of tenderness and
despair.
Milton, in one of his sonnets, says:
". The repeated air

. .
Of sad Electra's poet had the power >
To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare."

; :
This alludes to the story that when, on one occasion,

the city of Athens was at the mercy of her Spartan foes,
and it was proposed to destroy it, the thought was re-
jected upon the accidental quotation, by some one, of
a chorus of Euripides.
TROY
After hearing so much about the city of Troy and

its heroes, the reader will perhaps be
surprised to learn
that the exact site of that famous city is still a
matter
of dispute. There are some vestiges of tombs on the
plain which most nearly answers to the description given
by Homer and the ancient geographers, but no other
evidence of the former existence of a great city. Byron
thus describes the present appearance of the scene
"The winds are high, and Helle's tide

Rolls darkly heaving to the main
And night's descending shadows hide
That field with blood bedewed in vain,
The desert of old Priam's pride.
The tombs, sole relics of his reign,
All —save immortal dreams that could beguile
The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle."
—
Bride of Abydos.
CHAPTER XXIX
ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES —THE LOTUS-EATERS—CYCLOPES
CIRCE —SIRENS—SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS—CALYPSO
RETURN OF ULYSSES
The romantic poem of the Odyssey is now to engage
our attention. It narrates the wanderings of Ulysses
(Odysseus in the Greek language) in his return from
Troy to his own kingdom Ithaca.
From Troy the vessels first made land at Ismarus,
city of the Ciconians, where, in a skirmish with the
inhabitants, Ulysses lost six men from each ship. Sail-
ing thence, they were overtaken by a storm which drove
RETURN OF ULYSSES 237
them for nine days along the sea till they reached the
country of the Lotus-eaters. Here, after watering,

Ulysses sent three of his men to discover who the in-
habitants were. These men on coming among the Lotus-
eaters were kindly entertained by them, and were given
some of their own food, the lotus-plant, to eat. The
effect of this food was such that those who partook of
it lost all thoughts of home and wished to remain in
that country. It was by main force that Ulysses dragged
these men away, and he was even obliged to tie them
under the benches of the ships. 1
They next arrived at the country of the Cyclopes.
The Cyclopes were giants, who inhabited an island of
which they were the only possessors. The name means
"round eye," and these giants were so called because
they had but one eye, and that placed in the middle of
the forehead. They dwelt in caves and fed on the wild
productions of the island and on what their flocks
yielded, for they were shepherds. Ulysses left the
main body of his ships at anchor, and with one vessel
went to the Cyclopes' island to explore for supplies. He
landed with his companions, carrying with them a jar of
wine for a present, and coming to a large cave they
entered it, and finding no one within examined its con-
tents. They found it stored with the richest of the
flock, quantities of cheese, pails and bowls of milk,
lambs and kids in their pens, all in nice order. Presently
arrived the master of the cave, Polyphemus, bearing an
immense bundle of firewood, which he threw down be-
fore the cavern's mouth. He then drove into the cave
1 Tennyson in the "Lotus-eaters"
has charmingly expressed the dreamy,
languid feeling which the lotus food is said to have produced.
"How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream
With half-shut eyes ever to seem
Falling asleep in a half dream!
To dream and dream, like yonder amber light
Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;
To hear each others' whispered speech;
Eating the Lotos, day by day,
To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,
And tender curving lines of creamy spray:
To lend our hearts and spirits wholly
To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;
To muse and brood and live again in memory,
With those old faces of our infancy
Heaped over with a mound of grass,
Two handfuls of white dust., shut in an urn of brass."
the sheep and goats to be milked, and, entering, rolled
to the cave'smouth an enormous rock, that twenty oxen
could not draw. Next he sat down and milked his
ewes, preparing a part for cheese, and setting the rest
aside for his customary drink. Then, turning round
his great eye, he discerned the strangers, and growled
out to them, demanding who they were, and where from.
Ulysses replied most humbly, stating that they were
Greeks, from the great expedition that had lately won
so much glory in the conquest of Troy; that they were
now on their way home, and finished by imploring his
hospitality in the name of the gods. Polyphemus
deigned no answer, but reaching out his hand seized
two of the Greeks, whom he hurled against the side of
the cave, and dashed out their brains. He proceeded
to devour them with great relish, and having made a
hearty meal, stretched himself out on the floor to sleep.
Ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plunge
his sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it
would only expose them all to certain destruction, as the
rock with which the giant had closed up the door was far
beyond their power to remove, and they would there-
fore be in hopeless imprisonment. Next morning the
giant seized two more of the Greeks, and despatched
them in the same manner as their companions, feasting
on their flesh till no fragment was left. He then moved
away the rock from the door, drove out his flocks, and
went out, carefully replacing the barrier after him.
When he was gone Ulysses planned how he might take
vengeance for his murdered friends, and effect his
escape with his surviving companions. He made his men
prepare a massive bar of wood cut by the Cyclops for
a staff, which they found in the cave. They sharpened .
the end of it, and seasoned it in the fire, and hid it

under the straw on the cavern floor. Then four of
the boldest were selected, with whom Ulysses joined
himself as a fifth. The Cyclops came home at evening,
rolled away the stone and drove in his flock as usual.
After milking them and making his arrangements as be-
fore, he seized two more of Ulysses' companions and
dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal
RETURN OF ULYSSES 239
upon them as he had on the others. After he had

supped, Ulysses approaching him handed him a bowl of
wine, saying, "Cyclops, this is wine; taste and drink
after thy meal of men's flesh." He took and drank it,
and was hugely delighted with it, and called for more.
Ulysses supplied him once again, which pleased the giant
so much that he promised him as a favor that he should
be the last of the party devoured. He asked his name,
to which Ulysses replied, "My name is Noman."
After his supper the giant lay down to repose, and
was soon sound asleep. Then Ulysses with his four
select friends thrust the end of the stake into the fire
till it was all one burning coal, then poising it exactly
above the giant's only eye, they buried it deeply into

the socket, twirling it round as a carpenter does his
auger. The howling monster with his outcry filled the
cavern, and Ulysses with his aids nimbly got out of
his way and concealed themselves in the cave. He,
bellowing, called aloud on all the Cyclopes dwelling in
the caves around him, far and near. They on his cry
flocked round the den, and inquired what grievous hurt
had caused him to sound such an alarm and break their
slumbers. He replied, "O friends, I die, and Noman
gives the blow." They answered, "If no man hurts thee
it is the stroke of Jove, and thou must bear it." So
him groaning.
saying, they left
Next morning the Cyclops rolled away the stone to
let his flock out to pasture, but planted himself in the
door of the cave to feel of all as they went out, that
Ulysses and his men should not escape with them. But
Ulysses had made his men harness the rams of the
flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the
floor of the cave. To the middle ram of the three one
of the Greeks suspended himself, so protected by the
exterior rams on either side. As they passed, the giant
felt of the animals' backs and sides, but never thought
of their bellies so the men all passed safe, Ulysses him-
;
self being on the last one that passed. When they had
got a few paces from the cavern, Ulysses and his friends
released themselves from their rams, and drove a good
part of the flock down to the shore to their boat. They
put them aboard with all haste, then pushed off from
the shore, and when at a safe distance Ulysses shouted
out, "Cyclops, the gods have well requited thee for thy
atrocious deeds. Know it is Ulysses to whom thou
owest thy shameful loss of sight." The Cyclops, hear-
ing this, seized a rock that projected from the side of
the mountain, and rending it from its bed, he lifted
it high in the air, then exerting all his force, hurled it
in the direction of the voice. Down came the mass,

just clearing the vessel's stern. The ocean, at the plunge
of the huge rock, heaved the ship towards the land, so
that it barely escaped being swamped by the waves.
When they had with the utmost difficulty pulled off
shore, Ulysses wa6 about to hail the giant again, but
his friends besought him not to do so. He could not
forbear, however, letting the giant know that they had
escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached a
safer distance than before. The giant answered them
with curses, but Ulysses and his friends plied their oars
vigorously, and soon regained their companions.
Ulysses next arrived at the island of yEolus. To this

monarch Jupiter had intrusted the government of the
winds, to send them forth or retain them at his will.
He treated Ulysses hospitably, and at his departure gave
him, tied up in a leathern bag, with a silver string,
such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous, com-
manding fair winds to blow the barks towards their coun-
try. Nine days they sped before the wind, and all that
time Ulysses had stood at the helm, without sleep. At
last quite exhausted he lay down to sleep. While he
slept, the crew conferred together about the mysterious
bag, and concluded it must contain treasures given by
the hospitable king JEolus to their commander. Tempt-
ed to secure some portion for themselves, they loosed
the string, when immediately the winds rushed forth.
The ships were driven far from their course, and back
again to the island they had just left. iEolus was so
indignant at their folly that he refused to assist them
further, and they were obliged to labor over their course
once more by means of their oars.
THE LÊSTRYGONIANS 241
THE LJESTRYGONIANS
Their next adventure was with the barbarous tribe
of Laestrygonians. The vessels all pushed into the har-
bor, tempted by the secure appearance of the cove, com-
pletely land-locked; only Ulysses moored his vessel
without. As soon as the Laestrygonians found the ships
completely in their power they attacked them, heaving
huge stones which broke and overturned them, and with
their spears despatched the seamen as they struggled
in the water. All the vessels with their crews were de-
stroyed, except Ulysses' own ship, which had remained
outside, and finding no safety but in flight, he exhorted
his men
to ply their oars vigorously, and they escaped.
With grief for their slain companions mixed with joy
at their own escape, they pursued their way till they
arrived at the Êaean isle, where Circe dwelt, the daugh-
ter of the sun. Landing here, Ulysses climbed a hill,
and gazing round saw no signs of habitation except in
one spot at the centre of the island, where he perceived
a palace embowered with trees. He sent forward one-
half of his crew, under the command of Eurylochus, to
see what prospect of hospitality they might find. As
they approached the palace, they found themselves sur-
rounded by lions, tigers, and wolves, not fierce, but tamed
by Circe's art, for she was a powerful magician. All
these animals had once been men, but had been changed
by Circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts. The
sounds of soft music were heard from within, and a
sweet female voice singing. Eurylochus called aloud
and the goddess came forth and invited them in; they
allgladly entered except Eurylochus, who suspected dan-
ger. The goddess conducted her guests to a seat, and
had them served with wine and other delicacies. When
they had feasted heartily, she touched them one by one
with her wand, and they became immediately changed
into swine, in "head, body, voice, and bristles," yet with
their intellects as before. She shut them in her sties
and supplied them with acorns and such other things
as swine love.
Eurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the
tale. Ulysses thereupon determined to go himself, and

try by any means he might deliver his companions.
if
As he strode onward alone, he met a youth who ad-
dressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted with
his adventures. He announced himself as Mercury, and
informed Ulysses of the arts of Circe, and of the dan-
ger of approaching her. As Ulysses was not to be dis-
suaded from his attempt, Mercury provided him with
a sprig of the plant Moly, of wonderful power to resist
sorceries, and instructed him how to act. Ulysses pro-
ceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously received
by Circe, who entertained him as she had done his com-
panions, and after he had eaten and drank, touched
him with her wand, saying, "Hence, seek the sty and
wallow with thy friends." But he, instead of obeying,
drew his sword and rushed upon her with fury in his
countenance. She fell on her knees and begged for
mercy. He dictated a solemn oath that she would re-
lease his companions and practise no further harm
against him or them; and she repeated it, at the same
time promising to dismiss them all in safety after hos-
pitably entertaining them. She was as good as her
word. The men were restored to their shapes, the rest
of the crew summoned from the shore, and the whole
magnificently entertained day after day, till Ulysses
seemed to have forgotten his native land, and to have
reconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and
pleasure.
At length his companions recalled him to nobler sen-
timents, and he received their admonition gratefully.
Circe aided their departure, and instructed them how to
pass safely by the coast of the Sirens. The Sirens were
sea-nymphs who had the power of charming by their
song all who heard them, so that the unhappy mariners
were irresistibly impelled to cast themselves into the sea
to their destruction. Circe directed Ulysses to fill the
ears of his seamen with wax, so that they should not
hear the strain; and to cause himself to be bound to the
mast, and his people to be strictly enjoined, whatever
he might say or do, by no means to release him till they
should have passed the Sirens' island, Ulysses obeyed
: ;
SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS 243
these directions. He filled the ears of his people with

wax, and suffered them to bind him with cords firmly
to the mast. As they approached the Sirens' island,
the sea was calm, and over the waters came the notes of
music so ravishing and attractive that Ulysses struggled
to get loose, and by cries and signs to his people begged
to be released; but they, obedient to his previous orders,
sprang forward and bound him still faster. They held
on their course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased
to be heard, when with joy Ulysses gave his companions
the signal to unseal their ears, and they relieved him
from his bonds.
The imagination of a modern poet, Keats, has dis-

covered for us the thoughts that passed through the
brains of the victims of Circe, after their transforma-
tion. In his "Endymion" he represents one of them, a
monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing the sor-
ceress in human language, thus
"I sue not for my happy crown again

I sue not for my phalanx on the plain;
I sue not for my lone, my widowed wife;
I sue not for my ruddy drops of life,
My children fair, my lovely girls and boys;
I will forget them; I will pass these joys,
—
Ask nought so heavenward; so too too high;
Only I pray, as fairest boon, to die;
To be delivered from this cumbrous flesh,
From this gross, detestable, filthy mesh,
And merely given to the cold, bleak air.
Have mercy, goddess! Circe, feel my prayer!"
SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS

Ulysses had been warned by Circe of the two mon-
sters Scylla and Charybdis. We have already met with
Scylla in the story of Glaucus, and remember that she
was once a beautiful maiden and was changed into a
snaky monster by Circe. She dwelt in a cave high up on
the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust
forth her long necks (for she had six heads), and in
each of her mouths to seize one of the crew of every
vessel passing within reach. The other terror, Charyb-
dis, was a gulf, nearly on a level with the water. Thrice
each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm, and
thrice was disgorged. Any vessel coming near the whirl-
pool when the tide was rushing in must inevitably be
ingulfed; not Neptune himself could save it.
On approaching the haunt of the dread monsters,
Ulysses kept strict watch to discover them. The roar
of the waters as Charybdis ingulfed them, gave warn-
ing at a distance, but Scylla could nowhere be discerned.
While Ulysses and his men watched with anxious eyes
the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on their
guard from the attack of Scylla, and the monster, dart-
ing forth her snaky heads, caught six of his men, and
bore them away, shrieking, to her den. It was the sad-
dest sight Ulysses had yet seen; to behold his friends
thus sacrificed and hear their cries, unable to afford them
any assistance.
Circe had warned him of another danger. After pass-
ing Scylla and Charybdis the next land he would make
was Thrinakia, an island whereon were pastured the
cattle of Hyperion, the Sun, tended by his daughters
Lampetia and Phaethusa. These flocks must not be vio-
lated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. If
this injunction were transgressed destruction was sure
to fall on the offenders.
Ulysses would willingly have passed the island of
the Sun without stopping, but his companions so ur-
gently pleaded for the rest and refreshment that would
be derived from anchoring and passing the night on
shore, that Ulysses yielded. He bound them, however,
with an oath that they would not touch one of the
animals of the sacred flocks and herds, but content
themselves with what provision they yet had left of the
supply which Circe had put on board. So long as this
supply lasted the people kept their oath, but contrary
winds detained them at the island for a month, and after
consuming all their stock of provisions, they were forced
to rely upon the birds and fishes they could catch.
Famine pressed them, and at length one day, in the ab-
sence of Ulysses, they slew some of the cattle, vainly
attempting to make amends for the deed by offering
CALYPSO 245
from them a portion to the offended powers. Ulysses,

on his return to the shore, was horror-struck at per-
ceiving what they had done, and the more so on account
of the portentous signs which followed. The skins crept
on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the spit?
while roasting.
The wind becoming fair they sailed from the island.
They had not gone far when the weather changed,
and a storm of thunder and lightning ensued. A
stroke
of lightning shattered their mast, which in its fall killed
the pilot. At last the vessel itself came to pieces. The
keel and mast floating side by side, Ulysses formed of
them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing,
the waves bore him to Calypso's island. All the rest of
the crew perished.
The following allusion to the topics we have just been

considering is from Milton's "Comus," line 252:
"... I have often heard

My mother Circe and the Sirens three,
Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,
Culling their potent herbs and baneful drugs,
Who as they sung would take the prisoned soul
And lap it in Elysium. Scylla wept,
And chid her barking waves into attention,
And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause."
Scylla and Charybdis have become proverbial, to

denote opposite dangers which beset one's course. See
Proverbial Expressions.
CALYPSO
Calypso was a sea-nymph, which name denotes a
numerous class of female divinities of lower rank, yet
sharing many of the attributes of the gods. Calypso
received Ulysses hospitably, entertained him magnifi-
cently, became enamoured of him, and wished to retain
him forever, conferring on him immortality. But he
persisted in his resolution to return to his country and
his wife and son. Calypso at last received the com-
mand of Jove to dismiss him. Mercury brought the
:

message to her, and found her in her grotto, which is
thus described by Homer
"A garden vine, luxuriant on all sides,
Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung
Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph,
Their sinuous course pursuing side by side,
Strayed all around, and everywhere appeared
Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er
With violets it was a scene to fill
;
A god from heaven with wonder and delight."
Calypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the

commands of Jupiter. She supplied Ulysses with the
means of constructing a raft, provisioned it well for him,
and gave him a favoring gale. He sped on his course
prosperously for many days, till at length, when in
sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, and
threatened to rend the raft asunder. In this crisis he
was seen by a compassionate sea-nymph, who in the
form of a cormorant alighted on the raft, and presented
him a girdle, directing him to bind it beneath his breast,
and if he should be compelled to trust himself to the
waves, it would buoy him up and enable him by swim-
ming to reach the land.
Fenelon, in his romance of "Telemachus," has given

us the adventures of the son of Ulysses in search of his
father. Among other places at which he arrived, fol-
lowing on his father's footsteps, was Calypso's isle, and,
as in the former case, the goddess tried every art to
keep him with her, and offered to share her immortality
with him. But Minerva, who in the shape of Mentor
accompanied him and governed all his movements,
made him her allurements, and when no other
repel
means of escape could be found, the two friends leaped
from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vessel which
lay becalmed off shore. Byron alludes to this leap of
Telemachus and Mentor in the following stanza:
"But not in silence pass Calypso's isles,

The sister tenants of the middle deep;
There for the weary still a haven smiles,
Though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep,
THE PH.EACIANS 247
And o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep

For him who dared prefer a mortal bride.
Here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap,
Stern Mentor urged from high to yonder tide;
While thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed."
CHAPTER XXX
THE PHÂCIANS —FATE OF THE SUITORS
THE PHÂCIANS
Ulysses clung to the raft while any of its timbers
kept together, and when it no longer yielded him sup-
port, binding the girdle around him, he swam. Min-
erva smoothed the billows before him and sent him a
wind that rolled the waves towards the shore. The
surf beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid ap-
proach; but at length finding calm water at the mouth
of a gentle stream, he landed, spent with toil, breathless
and speechless and almost dead. After some time, re-
viving, he kissed the soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what
course to take. At a short distance he perceived a wood,
to which he turned his steps. There, finding a covert
sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun
and the rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed
a bed, on which he stretched himself, and heaping the
leaves over him, fell asleep.
The land where he was thrown was Scheria, the coun-
try of the Phseacians. These people dwelt originally
near the Cyclopes; but being oppressed by that savage
race, they migrated to the isle of Scheria, under the
conduct of Nausithoiis, their king. They were, the poet
tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared mani-
festly and feasted among them when they offered sac-
rifices, and did not conceal themselves from solitary
wayfarers when they met them. They had abundance
of wealth and lived in the enjoyment of it undisturbed
by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remote from
gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their
shores, and they did not even require to make use of
bows and quivers. Their chief employment was
navigation. Their ships, which went with the velocity
Df birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew
every port and needed no pilot. Alcinous, the son
of Nausithous, was now their king, a wise and just
sovereign, beloved by his people.
Now it happened that the very night on which Ulysses
was cast ashore on the Phaeacian island, and while he
lay sleeping on his bed of leaves, Nausicaa, the daugh-
ter of the king, had a dream sent by Minerva, remind-
ing her that her wedding-day was not far distant, and
that it would be but a prudent preparation for that event
to have a general washing of the clothes of the family.
This was no slight affair, for the fountains were at some
distance, and the garments must be carried thither. On
awaking, the princess hastened to her parents to tell
them what was on her mind; not alluding to her wed-
ding-day, but finding other reasons equally good. Her
father readily assented and ordered the grooms to fur-
nish forth a wagon for the purpose. The clothes were
put therein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon,
likewise, an abundant supply of food and wine. The
princess took her seat and plied the lash, her attendant
virgins following her on foot. Arrived at the river side,
they turned out the mules to graze, and unlading the
carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and
working with cheerfulness and alacrity soon despatched
their labor. Then having spread the garments on the
shore to dry, and having themselves bathed, they sat
down to enjoy their meal; after which they rose and
amused themselves with a game of ball, the princess
singing to them while they played. But when they had
refolded the apparel and were about to resume their
way to the town, Minerva caused the ball thrown by
the princess to fall into the water, whereat they all
screamed and Ulysses awaked at the sound.
Now we must picture to ourselves Ulysses, a ship-
wrecked mariner, but a few hours escaped from the
waves, and utterly destitute of clothing, awaking and
discovering that only a few bushes were interposed be-
THE PELEACIANS 249
tween him and a group of young maidens whom, by

theirdeportment and attire, he discovered to be not
mere peasant girls, but of a higher class. Sadly need-
ing help, how could he yet venture, naked as he was,
to discover himself and make his wants known? It
certainly was a case worthy of the interposition of his
patron goddess Minerva, who never failed him at a
crisis. Breaking off a leafy branch from a tree, he held
it before him and stepped out from the thicket. The
virgins at sight of him fled in all directions, Nausicaa
alone excepted, for her Minerva aided and endowed
with courage and discernment. Ulysses, standing re-
spectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the
fair object (whether queen or goddess he professed he
knew not) for food and clothing. The princess replied
courteously, promising present relief and her father's
hospitality when he should become acquainted with the
facts. She called back her scattered maidens, chiding
their alarm, and reminding them that the Phseacians had
no enemies to fear. This man, she told them, was an
unhappy wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for
the poor and stranger are from Jove. She bade them
bring food and clothing, for some of her brother's
garments were among the contents of the wagon. When
thiswas done, and Ulysses, retiring to a sheltered place,
had washed his body free from the sea-foam, clothed
and refreshed himself with food, Pallas dilated his form
and diffused grace over his ample chest and manly
brows.
The princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration,
and scrupled not to say to her damsels that she wished
the gods would send her such a husband. To Ulysses
she recommended that he should repair to the city, fol-
lowing herself and train so far as the way lay through
the fields; but when they should approach the city she
desired that he would no longer be seen in her com-
pany, for she feared the remarks which rude and vulgar
people might make on seeing her return accompanied
by such a gallant stranger. To avoid which she directed
him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in which were
a farm and garden belonging to the king. After al-
lowing time for the princess and her companions to
reach the city, he was then to pursue his way thither,
and would be easily guided by any he might meet to
the royal abode.
Ulysses obeyed the directions and in due time pro-
ceeded to the city, on approaching which he met a
young woman bearing a pitcher forth for water. It
was Minerva, who had assumed that form. Ulysses ac-
costed her and desired to be directed to the palace of
Alcinous the king. The maiden replied respectfully,
offering to be his guide; for the palace, she informed
him, stood near her father's dwelling. Under the
guidance of the goddess, and by her power enveloped
in a cloud which shielded him from observation, Ulysses
passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder ob-
served their harbor, their ships, their forum (the resort
of heroes), and their battlements, till they came to the
palace, where the goddess, having first given him some
information of the country, king, and people he was
about to meet, left him. Ulysses, before entering the
courtyard of the palace, stood and surveyed the scene.
Its splendor astonished him. Brazen walls stretched
from the entrance to the interior house, of which the
doors were gold, the doorposts silver, the lintels silver
ornamented with gold. On either side were figures of
mastiffs wrought in gold and silver, standing in rows as
if to guard the approach. Along the walls were seats
spread through all their length with mantles of finest
texture, the work of Phseacian maidens. On these seats
the princes sat and feasted, while golden statues of
graceful youths held in their hands lighted torches which
shed radiance over the scene. Full fifty female menials
served in household offices, some employed to grind the
corn, others to wind off the purple wool or ply the
loom. For the Phseacian women as far exceeded all other
women in household arts as the mariners of that coun-
try did the rest of mankind in the management of ships.
Without the court a spacious garden lay, four acres in
extent. In it grew many a lofty tree, pomegranate,
pear, apple, fig, and olive. Neither winter's cold nor
summer's drought arrested their growth, but they flour-
THE PHJEACIANS 251
ished in constant succession, some budding while others

were maturing. The vineyard was equally prolific. In
one quarter you might see the vines, some in blossom,
some loaded with ripe grapes, and in another observe
the vintagers treading the wine press. On the garden's
borders flowers of all hues bloomed all the year round,
arranged with neatest art. In the midst two fountains
poured forth their waters, one flowing by artificial chan-
nels over all the garden, the other conducted through
the courtyard of the palace, whence every citizen might
draw his supplies.
Ulysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved him-
self, for the cloud which Minerva spread around him
still shielded him. At length, having sufficiently ob-
served the scene, he advanced with rapid step into the
hall where the chiefs and senators were assembled, pour-
ing libation to Mercury, whose worship followed the
evening meal. Just then Minerva dissolved the cloud
and disclosed him to the assembled chiefs. Advancing
to the place where the queen sat, he knelt at her feet
and implored her favor and assistance to enable him
to return to his native country. Then withdrawing, he
seated himself in the manner of suppliants, at the hearth
side.
For a time none spoke. At last an aged statesman,
addressing the king, said, "It is not fit that a stranger
who asks our hospitality should be kept waiting in sup-
pliant guise, none welcoming him. Let him therefore
be led to a seat among us and supplied with food and
wine." At these words the king rising gave his hand
to Ulysses and led him to a seat, displacing thence his
own son to make room for the stranger. Food and
wine were set before him and he ate and refreshed him-
self.
The king then dismissed his guests, notifying them
that the next day he would call them to council to con-
sider what had best be done for the stranger.
When the guests had departed and Ulysses was left
alone with the king and queen, the queen asked him
who he was and whence he came, and (recognizing the
clothes which he wore as those which her maidens and
—

herself had made) from whom he received those gar-
ments. He told them of
his residence in Calypso's isle
and his departure thence; of the wreck of his raft, his
escape by swimming, and of the relief afforded by the
princess. The parents heard approvingly, and the king
promised to furnish a ship in which his guest might re-
turn to his own land.
The next day the assembled chiefs confirmed the
promise of the king. A
bark was prepared and a crew
of stout rowers selected, and all betook themselves to
the palace, where a bounteous repast was provided.
After the feast the king proposed that the young men
should show their guest their proficiency in manly
sports, and all went forth to the arena for games of
running, wrestling, and other exercises. After all had
done their best, Ulysses being challenged to show what
he could do, at first declined, but being taunted by one
of the youths, seized a quoit of weight far heavier than
any of the Phaeacians had thrown, and sent it farther
than the utmost throw of theirs. All were astonished,
and viewed their guest with greatly increased respect.
After the games they returned to the hall, and the
herald led in Demodocus, the blind bard,
". . . Dear to the Muse,
Who yet appointed him both good and ill,
Took from him sight, but gave him strains divine."
He took for his theme the "Wooden Horse," by means

of which the Greeks found entrance into Troy. Apollo
inspired him, and he sang so feelingly the terrors and
the exploits of that eventful time that all were de-
lighted, but Ulysses was moved to tears. Observing
which, Alcinoiis, when the song was done, demanded of
him why at the mention of Troy his sorrows awaked.
Had he lost there a father, or brother, or any dear
friend? Ulysses replied by announcing himself by his
true name, and at their request, recounted the adven-
tures which had befallen him since his departure from
Troy. This narrative raised the sympathy and admira-
tion of the Phaeacians for their guest to the highest
pitch. The king proposed that all the chiefs should
: :
THE PHÂCIANS 253
present him with a gift, himself setting the example.

They obeyed, and vied with one another in loading the
illustrious stranger with costly gifts.
The next day Ulysses set sail in the Phaeacian ves-
sel, and in a short time arrived safe at Ithaca, his own
island. When the vessel touched the strand he was
asleep. The mariners, without waking him, carried
him on shore, and landed with him the chest containing
his presents, and then sailed away.
Neptune was so displeased at the conduct of the
Phseacians in thus rescuing Ulysses from his hands that
on the return of the vessel to port he transformed it into
a rock, right opposite the mouth of the harbor.
Homer's description of the ships of the Phseacians

has been thought to look like an anticipation of the
wonders of modern steam navigation. Alcinous says to
Ulysses
"Say from what city, from what regions tossed,
And what inhabitants those regions boast?
So shalt thou quickly reach the realm assigned,
In wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind;
No helm secures their course, no pilot guides;
Like man intelligent they plough the tides,
Conscious of every coast and every bay
That lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray."
—
Odyssey, Book VIII.
Lord Carlisle, in his "Diary in the Turkish and Greek

Waters," thus speaks of Corfu, which he considers to
be the ancient Phseacian island
"The sites explain the 'Odyssey/ The temple of the
sea-god could not have been more fitly placed, upon a
grassy platform of the most elastic turf, on the brow
of a crag commanding harbor, and channel, and ocean.
Just at the entrance of the inner harbor there is a pic-
turesque rock with a small convent perched upon it,
which by one legend is the transformed pinnace of
Ulysses.
"Almost the only river in the island is just at the
proper distance from the probable site of the city and
palace of the king, to justify the princess Nausicaa
having had resort to her chariot and to luncheon when

she went with the maidens of the court to wash their
garments."
FATE OF THE SUITORS
Ulysses had now been away from Ithaca for twenty
years, and when he awoke he did not recognize his na-
tive land. Minerva appeared to him in the form of a
young shepherd, informed him where he was, and told
him the state of things at his palace. More than a hun-
dred nobles of Ithaca and of the neighboring islands
had been for years suing for the hand of Penelope, his
wife, imagining him dead, and lording it over his palace
and people, as if they were owners of both. That he
might be able to take vengeance upon them, it was im-
portant that he should not be recognized. Minerva ac-
cordingly metamorphosed him into an unsightly beggar,
and as such he was kindly received by Eumseus, the
swine-herd, a faithful servant of his house.
Telemachus, his son, was absent in quest of his father.
He had gone to the courts of the other kings, who had
returned from the Trojan expedition. While on the
search, he received counsel from Minerva to return
home. He arrived and sought Eumaeus to learn some-
thing of the state of affairs at the palace before present-
ing himself among the suitors. Finding a stranger with
Eumseus, he treated him courteously, though in the garb
of a beggar, and promised him assistance. Eumseus was
sent to the palace to inform Penelope privately of her
son's arrival, for caution was necessary with regard to
the suitors, who, as Telemachus had learned, were plot-
ting to intercept and kill him. When Eumaeus was gone,
Minerva presented herself to Ulysses, and directed him
to make himself known to his son. At the same time
she touched him, removed at once from him the ap-
pearance of age and penury, and gave him the aspect of
vigorous manhood that belonged to him. Telemachus
Wiewed him with astonishment, and at first thought he
must be more than mortal. But Ulysses announced him-
self as his father, and accounted for the change of ap-
pearance by explaining that it was Minerva's doing.
FATE OF THE SUITORS 255
Then threw Telemachus

. .
His arms around his father's neck and wept

Desire intense of lamentation seized
On both; soft murmurs uttering, each indulged
His grief."
The father and son took counsel together how they

should get the better of the suitors and punish them for
their outrages. It was arranged that Telemachus should
proceed to the palace and mingle with the suitors as
formerly; that Ulysses should also go as a beggar, a
character which in the rude old times had different privi-
leges from what we concede to it now. As traveller
and storyteller, the beggar was admitted in the halls of
chieftains, and often treated like a guest though some-
;
times, also, no doubt, with contumely. Ulysses charged

his son not to betray, by any display of unusual interest
in him, that he knew him to be other than he seemed,
and even if he saw him insulted, or beaten, not to in-
terpose otherwise than he might do for any stranger.
At the palace they found the usual scene of feasting and
riot going on. The suitors pretended to receive Telem-
achus with joy at his return, though secretly mortified
at the failure of their plots to take his life. The old
beggar was permitted to enter, and provided with a
portion from the table. A
touching incident occurred as
Ulysses entered the courtyard of the palace. An old
dog lay in the yard almost dead with age, and seeing a
stranger enter, raised his head, with ears erect. It was
Argus, Ulysses' own dog, that he had in other days often
led to the chase.
". .Soon as he perceived
.
Long-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his ears

Clapped close, and with his tail glad sign he gave
Of gratulation, impotent to rise,
And to approach his master as of old.
Ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear
Unmarked.
. Then his destiny released
. .
Old Argus, soon as he had lived to see

Ulysses in the twentieth year restored."
As Ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall, the

suitors began to exhibit their insolence to him. When
he mildly remonstrated, one of them raised a stool and
with it gave him a blow. Telemachus had hard work
to restrain his indignation at seeing his father so treated
in his own hall, but remembering his father's injunctions,
said no more than what became him as master of the
house, though young, and protector of his guests.
Penelope had protracted her decision in favor of
either of her suitors so long that there seemed to be
no further pretence for delay. The continued absence
of her husband seemed to prove that his return was no
longer to be expected. Meanwhile her son had grown
up, and was able to manage his own affairs. She there-
fore consented to submit the question of her choice to
a trial of skill among the suitors. The test selected
was shooting with the bow. Twelve rings were ar-
ranged in a line, and he whose arrow was sent through
the whole twelve was to have the queen for his prize.
A bow that one of his brother heroes had given to
Ulysses in former times was brought from the armory,
and with its quiver full of arrows was laid in the hall.
Telemachus had taken care that all other weapons should
be removed, under pretence that in the heat of compe-
tition there was danger, in some rash moment, of put-
ting them to an improper use.
All things being prepared for the trial, the first thing
to be done was to bend the bow in order to attach the
string. Telemachus endeavored to do it, but found all
his efforts fruitless; and modestly confessing that he
had attempted a task beyond his strength, he yielded the
bow to another. He tried it with no better success, and,
amidst the laughter and jeers of his companions, gave it
up. Another tried it and another; they rubbed the bow
with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not bend.
Then spoke Ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should
be permitted to try; for, said he, "beggar as I am, I
was once a soldier, and there is still some strength in
these old limbs of mine." The suitors hooted with de-
rision, and commanded to turn him out of the hall for
his insolence. But Telemachus spoke up for him, and,
merely to gratify the old man, bade him try. Ulysses
FATE OF THE SUITORS 257
took the bow, and handled it with the hand of a master.

With ease he adjusted the cord to its notch, then fitting
an arrow to the bow he drew the string and sped the
arrow unerring through the rings.
Without allowing them time to express their aston-
ishment, he said, "Now for another mark!" and aimed
direct at the most insolent one of the suitors. The
arrow pierced through his throat and he fell dead.
Telemachus, Eumaeus, and another faithful follower,
well armed, now sprang to the side of Ulysses. The
suitors, in amazement, looked round for arms, but found
none, neither was there any way of escape, for Eumseus
had secured the door. Ulysses left them not long in
uncertainty he announced himself as the long-lost chief,
;
whose house they had invaded, whose substance they

had squandered, whose wife and son they had perse-
cuted for ten long years; and told them he meant to
have ample vengeance. All were slain, and Ulysses was
left master of his palace and possessor of his kingdom
and his wife.
Tennyson's poem of "Ulysses" represents the old

hero, after his dangers past and nothing left but to stay
at home and be happy, growing tired of inaction and
resolving to set forth again in quest of new adventures:
". .Come, my friends,

.
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of allthe western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles whom we knew etc.
CHAPTER XXXI
—
ADVENTURES OF .ENEAS THE HARPIES —DIDO
PALINURUS
ADVENTURES OF .ENEAS
We have followed one of the Grecian heroes, Ulysses,
in his wanderings on his return home from Troy, and
now we propose to share the fortunes of the remnant
of the conquered people, under their chief Êneas, in
their search for a new home, after the ruin of their na-
tive city. On that fatal night when the wooden horse
disgorged contents of armed men, and the capture
its
and conflagration of the city were the result, Êneas
made his escape from the scene of destruction, with
his father, and his wife, and young son. The father,
Anchises, was too old to walk with the speed required,
and yEneas took him upon his shoulders. Thus bur-
dened, leading his son and followed by his wife, he
made the best of his way out of the burning city; but,
in the confusion, his wife was swept away and lost.
On arriving at the place of rendezvous, numerous
fugitives, of both sexes, were found, who put them-
selves under the guidance of Êneas. Some months
were spent in preparation, and at length they embarked.
They first landed on the neighboring shores of Thrace,
and were preparing to build a city, but yEneas was
deterred by a prodigy. Preparing to offer sacrifice, he
tore some twigs from one of the bushes. To his dis-
may the wounded part dropped blood. When he re-
peated the act a voice from the ground cried out to
him, "Spare me, iEneas; I am your kinsman, Polydore,
here murdered with many arrows, from which a bush
has grown, nourished with my blood." These words
recalled to the recollection of iEneas that Polydore was
a young prince of Troy, whom his father had sent with
ample treasures to the neighboring land of Thrace, to
be there brought up, at a distance from the horrors of
war. The king to whom he was sent had murdered
ADVENTURES OF .ENEAS 259
him and seized his treasures. ./Eneas and his compan-

ions, considering the land accursed by the stain of such
a crime, hastened away.
They next landed on the island of Delos, which was
once a floating island, till Jupiter fastened it by adaman-
tine chains to the bottom of the sea. Apollo and Diana
were born there, and the island was sacred to Apollo.
Here iEneas consulted the oracle of Apollo, and re-
—
ceived an answer, ambiguous as usual, "Seek your an-
cient mother; there the race of iEneas shall dwell, and
reduce all other nations to their sway." The Trojans
heard with joy and immediately began to ask one an-
other, "Where is the spot intended by the oracle?"
Anchises remembered that there was a tradition that
their forefathers came from Crete and thither they re-
solved to steer. They arrived at Crete and began to
build their city, but sickness broke out among them,
and the fields that they had planted failed to yield a
crop. In this gloomy aspect of affairs yEneas was
warned in a dream to leave the country and seek a
western land, called Hesperia, whence Dardanus, the
true founder of the Trojan race, had originally mi-
grated. To Hesperia, now called Italy, therefore, they
directed their future course, and not till after many
adventures and the lapse of time sufficient to carry a
modern navigator several times round the world, did
they arrive there.
Their first landing was at the island of the Harpies.
These were disgusting birds with the heads of maidens,
with long claws and faces pale with hunger. They were
sent by the gods to torment a certain Phineus, whom
Jupiter had deprived of his sight, in punishment of his
cruelty; and whenever a meal was placed before him
the Harpies darted down from the air and carried it
off. They were driven away from Phineus by the
heroes of the Argonautic expedition, and took refuge
in the island where iEneas now found them.
When they entered the port the Trojans saw herds
of cattle roaming over the plain. They slew as many
as they wished and prepared for a feast. But no sooner
had they seated themselves at the table than a horrible
clamor was heard in the air, and a flock of these odious

harpies came rushing down upon them, seizing in their
talons the meat from the dishes and flying away with
it. ./Eneas and his companions drew their swords and
dealt vigorous blows among the monsters, but to no pur-
pose, for they were so nimble it was almost impossible
to hit them, and their feathers were like armor im-
penetrable to steel. One of them, perched on a neigh-
boring cliff, screamed out, "Is it thus, Trojans, you treat
us innocent birds, first slaughter our cattle and then
make war on ourselves?" She then predicted dire suf-
ferings to them in their future course, and having vented
her wrath flew away. The Trojans made haste to leave
the country, and next found themselves coasting along
the shore of Epirus. Here they landed, and to their
astonishment learned that certain Trojan exiles, who
had been carried there as prisoners, had become rulers
of the country. Andromache, the widow of Hector, be-
came the wife of one of the victorious Grecian chiefs,
to whom she bore a son. Her husband dying, she was
left regent of the country, as guardian of her son, and
had married a fellow-captive, Helenus, of the royal race
of Troy. Helenus and Andromache treated the exiles
with the utmost hospitality, and dismissed them loaded
with gifts.
From hence Êneas coasted along the shore of Sicily
and passed the country of the Cyclopes. Here they
were hailed from the shore by a miserable object, whom
by his garments, tattered as they were, they perceived
to be a Greek. He told them he was one of Ulysses's
companions, left behind by that chief in his hurried
departure. He related the story of Ulysses's adventure
with Polyphemus, and besought them to take him off
with them as he had no means of sustaining his ex-
istence where he was but wild berries and roots, and
lived in constant fear of the Cyclopes. While he spoke
Polyphemus made his appearance; a terrible monster,
shapeless, vast, whose only eye had been put out.
1
He
walked with cautious steps, feeling his way with a staff,
down to the sea-side, to wash his eye-socket in the
ADVENTURES OF ^NEAS 261
waves. When he reached the water, he waded out

towards them, and his immense height enabled him to
advance far into the sea, so that the Trojans, in terror,
took to their oars to get out of his way. Hearing the
oars, Polyphemus shouted after them, so that the shores
resounded, and at the noise the other Cyclopes came
forth from their caves and woods and lined the shore,
like a row of lofty pine trees. The Trojans plied their
oars and soon left them out of sight.
yEneas had been cautioned by Helenus to avoid the
strait guarded by the monsters Scylla and Charybdis.
There Ulysses, the reader will remember, had lost six
of his men, seized by Scylla while the navigators were
wholly intent upon avoiding Charybdis. Êneas, fol-
lowing the advice of Helenus, shunned the dangerous
pass and coasted along the island of Sicily.
Juno, seeing the Trojans speeding their way prosper-
ously towards their destined shore, felt her old grudge
against them revive, for she could not forget the slight
that Paris had put upon her, in awarding the prize of
beauty to another. In heavenly minds can such resent-
ments dwell! 1 Accordingly she hastened to /Eolus, the
ruler of the winds, —
the same who supplied Ulysses
with favoring gales, giving him the contrary ones tied
up in a bag. /Eolus obeyed the goddess and sent forth
his sons, Boreas, Typhon, and the other winds, to toss
the ocean. A terrible storm ensued and the Trojan ships
were driven out of their course towards the coast of
Africa. They were in imminent danger of being
wrecked, and were separated, so that /Eneas thought
that all were lost except his own. I
At this crisis, Neptune, hearing the storm raging, and

knowing that he had given no orders for one, raised his
head above the waves, and saw the fleet of yEneas driv-
ing before the gale. Knowing the ixostility of Juno, he
was at no loss to account for it, but his anger was not
the less at this interference in his province. He called
the winds and dismissed them with a severe reprimand.
He then soothed the waves, and brushed away the clouds
from before the face of the sun. Some of the ships
:
which had got on the rocks he pried off with his own
trident, while Triton and a sea-nymph, putting their
shoulders under others, set them afloat again. The Tro-
jans, when the sea became calm, sought the nearest
shore, which was the coast of Carthage, where Êneas
was so happy as to find that one by one the ships all
arrived safe, though badly shaken.
Waller, in his "Panegyric to the Lord Protector"

(Cromwell), alludes to this stilling of the storm by
Neptune
"Above the waves, as Neptune showed his face,
To chide the winds and save the Trojan race,
So has your Highness, raised above the rest,
Storms of ambition tossing us repressed."
DIDO
Carthage, where the exiles had now arrived, was a

spot on the coast of Africa opposite Sicily, where at
that time a Tyrian colony under Dido, their queen, were
laying the foundations of a state destined in later ages
to be the rival of Rome itself. Dido was the daughter
of Belus, king of Tyre, and sister of Pygmalion, who
succeeded his father on the throne. Her husband was
Sichaeus, a man of immense wealth, but Pygmalion,
who coveted his treasures, caused him to be put to death.
Dido, with a numerous body of friends and followers,
both men and women, succeeded in effecting their escape
from Tyre, in several vessels, carrying with them the
treasures of Sichaeus. On arriving at the spot which they
selected as the seat of their future home, they asked of
the natives only so much land as they could enclose with
a bull's hide. When this was readily granted, she caused
the hide to be cut into strips, and with them enclosed a
spot on which she built a citadel, and called it Byrsa (a
hide). Around this fort the city of Carthage rose, and
soon became a powerful and flourishing place.
Such was the state of affairs when iEneas with his
Trojans arrived there. Dido received the illustrious
exiles with friendliness and hospitality. "Not unac-
!
DIDO 263
quainted with distress/' she said, "I have learned to

succor the unfortunate." 1 The queen's hospitality dis-
played itself in festivities at which games of strength
and skill were exhibited. The strangers contended for
the palm with her own subjects, on equal terms, the
queen declaring that whether the victor were "Trojan or
Tyrian should make no difference to her." 1 At the feast
which followed the games, Êneas gave at her request
a recital of the closing events of the Trojan history and
his own adventures after the fall of the city. Dido was
charmed with his discourse and filled with admiration
of his exploits. She conceived an ardent passion for
him, and he for his part seemed well content to accept
the fortunate chance which appeared to offer him at
once a happy termination of his wanderings, a home, a
kingdom, and a bride. Months rolled away in the en-
joyment of pleasant intercourse, and it seemed as if
Italy and the empire destined to be founded on its shores
were alike forgotten. Seeing which, Jupiter despatched
Mercury with a message to iEneas recalling him to a
sense of his high destiny, and commanding him to re-
sume his voyage.
iEneas parted from Dido, though she tried every al-
lurement and persuasion to detain him. The blow to
her affection and her pride was too much for her to
endure, and when she found that he was gone, she
mounted a funeral pile which she had caused to be
erected, and having stabbed herself was consumed with
the pile. The flames rising over the city were seen by
the departing Trojans, and, though the cause was un-
known, gave to Êneas some intimation of the fatal
event.
The following epigram we find in "Elegant Ex-

tracts":
From the Latin
"Unhappy, Dido, was thy fate
In first and second married state
One husband caused thy flight by dying,
Thy death the other caused by flying."
:
PALINURUS
After touching at the island of Sicily, where Acestes,
a prince of Trojan lineage, bore sway, who gave them
a hospitable reception, the Trojans reembarked, and
held on their course for Italy. Venus now interceded
with Neptune to allow her son at last to attain the
wished-for goal and find an end of his perils on the
deep. Neptune consented, stipulating only for one life
as a ransom for the rest. The victim was Palinurus,
the pilot. As he sat watching the stars, with his hand
on the helm, Somnus sent by Neptune approached in
the guise of Phorbas and said: "Palinurus, the breeze
is fair, the water smooth, and the ship sails steadily on
her course. Lie down awhile and take needful rest.
I will stand at the helm in your place." Palinurus re-
plied, "Tell me not of smooth seas or favoring winds,
— me who have seen so much of their treachery. Shall
I trust iEneas to the chances of the weather and the
winds?" And he continued to grasp the helm and to
keep his eyes fixed on the stars. But Somnus waved
over him a branch moistened wtih Lethsean dew, and
his eyes closed in spite of all his efforts. Then Somnus
pushed him overboard and he fell but keeping his hold
;
upon the helm, it came away with him. Neptune was

mindful of his promise and kept the ship on her track
without helm or pilot, till iEneas discovered his loss,
and, sorrowing deeply for his faithful steersman, took
charge of the ship himself.
There is a beautiful allusion to the story of Palinurus

in Scott's "Marmion," Introduction to Canto I., where
the poet, speaking of the recent death of William Pitt,
says
"O, think how, to his latest day,

When death just hovering claimed his prey,
With Palinure's unaltered mood,
Firm at his dangerous post he stood;
Each call for needful rest repelled,
With dying hand the rudder held,
Till in his fall, with fateful sway,
The steerage of the realm gave way."
PALINURUS 265
The ships at last reached the shores of Italy, and joy-

fully did the adventurers leap to land. While his people
were employed in making their encampment Êneas
sought the abode of the Sibyl. It was a cave connected
with a temple and grove, sacred to Apollo and Diana.
While iEneas contemplated the scene, the Sibyl accosted
him. She seemed to know his errand, and under the
influence of the deity of the place, burst forth in a pro-
phetic strain, giving dark intimations of labors and perils
through which he was destined to make his way to
final success. She closed with the encouraging words
which have become proverbial: "Yield not to disasters,
but press onward the more bravely." 1 iEneas replied
that he had prepared himself for whatever might await
him. He had but one request to make. Having been
directed in a dream to seek the abode of the dead in
order to confer with his father, Anchises, to receive
from him a revelation of his future fortunes and those
of his race, he asked her assistance to enable him to ac-
complish the task. The Sibyl replied, "The descent to
Avernus is easy: the gate of Pluto stands open night
and day; but to retrace one's steps and return to the
upper air, that is the toil, that the difficulty." 1 She in-
structed him to seek in the forest a tree on which grew
a golden branch. This branch was to be plucked off
and borne as a gift to Proserpine, and if fate was pro-
pitious it would yield to the hand and quit its parent
trunk, but otherwise no force could rend it away. If
torn away, another would succeed. 1
yEneas followed the directions of the Sibyl. His
mother, Venus, sent two of her doves to fly before him
and show him the way, and by their assistance he found
the tree, plucked the branch, and hastened back with it
to the Sibyl.

—
CHAPTER XXXII
THE INFERNAL REGIONS THE SIBYL
THE INFERNAL REGIONS

As at the commencement of our series we have given
the pagan account of the creation of the world, so as
we approach its conclusion we present a view of the,
regions of the dead, depicted by one of their most en-
lightened poets, who drew his doctrines from their most
esteemed philosophers. The region where Virgil locates
the entrance to this abode is perhaps the most strikingly
adapted to excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural
of any on the face of the earth. It is the volcanic
region near Vesuvius, where the whole country is cleft
with chasms, from which sulphurous flames arise, while
the ground is shaken with pent-up vapors, and mysteri-
ous sounds issue from the bowels of the earth. The
lake Avernus is supposed to fill the crater of an ex-
tinct volcano. It is circular, half a mile wide, and very
deep, surrounded by high banks, which in Virgil's time
were covered with a gloomy forest. Mephitic vapors
rise from its waters, so that no life is found on its banks,
and no birds fly over it. Here, according to the poet,
was the cave which afforded access to the infernal re-
gions, and here yEneas offered sacrifices to the infernal
deities, Proserpine, Hecate, and the Furies. Then a
roaring was heard in the earth, the woods on the hill-
tops were shaken, and the howling of dogs announced
the approach of the deities. "Now," said the Sibyl,
"summon up your courage, for you will need it." She
descended into the cave, and iEneas followed. Before
the threshold of hell they passed through a group of
beings who are enumerated as Griefs and avenging
Cares, pale Diseases and melancholy Age, Fear and
Hunger that tempt to crime, Toil, Poverty, and Death,
forms horrible to view. The Furies spread their couches
there, and Discord, whose hair was of vipers tied up
with a bloody fillet. Here also were the monsters,
THE INFERNAL REGIONS 267
Briareus, with his hundred arms, Hydras hissing, and

Chimseras breathing fire. Êneas shuddered at the sight,
drew his sword and would have struck, but the Sibyl
restrained him. They then came to the black river
Cocytus, where they found the ferryman, Charon, old
and squalid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving
passengers of all kinds into his boat, magnanimous
heroes, boys and unmarried girls, as numerous as the
leaves that fall at autumn, or the flocks that fly south-
ward at the approach of winter. They stood pressing
for a passage and longing to touch the opposite shore.
But the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose,
driving the rest back. Êneas, wondering at the sight,
asked the Sibyl, "Why this discrimination?" She an-
swered, "Those who are taken on board the bark are the
souls of those who have received due burial rites; the
host of others who have remained unburied are not
permitted to pass the flood, but wander a hundred years,
and flit to and fro about the shore, till at last they are
taken over." iEneas grieved at recollecting some of
his own companions who had perished in the storm. At
that moment he beheld Palinurus, his pilot, who fell
overboard and was drowned. He addressed him and
asked him the cause of his misfortune. Palinurus re-
plied that the rudder was carried away, and he, clinging
to it, was swept away with it. He besought Êneas
most urgently to extend to him his hand and take him
in company to the opposite shore. But the Sibyl re-
buked him for the wish thus to transgress the laws of
Pluto but consoled him by informing him that the peo-
;
ple of the shore where his body had been wafted by

the waves should be stirred up by prodigies to give it
due burial, and that the promontory should bear the
name of Cape Palinurus, which it does to this day.
Leaving Palinurus consoled by these words, they ap-
proached the boat. Charon, fixing his eyes sternly upon
the advancing warrior, demanded by what right he, liv-
ing and armed, approached that shore. To which the
Sibyl replied that they would commit no violence, that
yEneas's only object was to see his father, and finally
exhibited the golden branch, at sight of which Charon's
wrath relaxed, and he made haste to turn his bark to
the shore, and receive them on board. The boat,
adapted only to the light freight of bodiless spirits,
groaned under the weight of the hero. They were soon
conveyed to the opposite shore. There they were en-
countered by the three-headed dog, Cerberus, with his
necks bristling with snakes. He barked with all his
three throats till the Sibyl threw him a medicated cake
which he eagerly devoured, and then stretched himself
out in his den and fell asleep. iEneas and the Sibyl
sprang to land. The first sound that struck their ears
was the wailing of young children, who had died on the
threshold of life, and near to these were they who had
perished under false charges. Minos presides over them
as judge, and examines the deeds of each. The next
class was of those who had died by their own hand, hat-
ing life and seeking refuge in death. O how willingly
would they now endure poverty, labor, and any other
infliction, if they might but return to life! Next were
situated the regions of sadness, divided off into retired
paths, leading through groves of myrtle. Here roamed
those who had fallen victims to unrequited love, not
freed from pain even by death itself. Among these,
yEneas thought he descried the form of Dido, with
a wound still recent. In the dim light he was for a mo-
ment uncertain, but approaching, perceived it was indeed
herself. Tears fell from his eyes, and he addressed her
in the accents of love. "Unhappy Dido! was then the
rumor true that you had perished ? and was I, alas the
!
cause? I call the gods to witness that my departure-

from you was reluctant, and in obedience to the com-
mands of Jove; nor could I believe that my absence
would cost you so dear. Stop, I beseech you, and refuse
me not a last farewell." She stood for a moment with
averted countenance, and eyes fixed on the ground, and
then silently passed on, as insensible to his pleadings as
a rock. iEneas followed for some distance; then, with
a heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his
route.
They next entered the where roam the heroes
fields
who have fallen in battle. Here they saw many shades
of Grecian and Trojan warriors. The Trojans thronged

around him, and could not be satisfied with the sight.
They asked the cause of his coming, and plied him with
innumerable questions. But the Greeks, at the sight of
his armor glittering through the murky atmosphere, rec-
ognized the hero, and filled with terror turned their
backs and fled, as they used to do on the plains of Troy.
Êneas would have lingered long with his Trojan
friends, but the Sibyl hurried him away. They next
came to a place where the road divided, the one leading
to Elysium, the other to the regions of the condemned.
Êneas beheld on one side the walls of a mighty city,
around which Phlegethon rolled its fiery waters. Be-
fore him was the gate of adamant that neither gods nor
men can break through. An iron tower stood by the
gate, on which Tisiphone, the avenging Fury, kept
guard. From the city were heard groans, and the sound
of the scourge, the creaking of iron, and the clanking
of chains. /Eneas, horror-struck, inquired of his guide
what crimes were those whose punishments produced
the sounds he heard? The Sibyl answered, "Here is the
judgment hall of Rhadamanthus, who brings to light
crimes done in life, which the perpetrator vainly thought
impenetrably hid. Tisiphone applies her whip of scor-
pions, and delivers the offender over to her sister
Furies." At this moment with horrid clang the brazen
gates unfolded, and /Eneas saw within a Hydra with
fifty heads guarding the entrance. The Sibyl told him
that the gulf of Tartarus descended deep, so that its
recesses were as far beneath their feet as heaven was
high above their heads. In the bottom of this pit, the
Titan race, who warred against the gods, lie prostrate;
Salmoneus, also, who presumedto vie with Jupiter, and
built a bridge of brass over which he drove his chariot
that the sound might resemble thunder, launching flam-
ing brands at his people in imitation of lightning, till
Jupiter struck him with a real thunderbolt, and taught
him the difference between mortal weapons and divine.
Here, also, is Tityus, the giant, whose form is so im-
mense that as he lies he stretches over nine acres, while
a vulture preys upon his liver, which as fast as it is
devoured grows again, so that his punishment will have
no end.
.ZEneas saw groups seated at tables loaded with dain-
ties, while near by stood a Fury who snatched away the
viands from their lips as fast as they prepared to taste
them. Others beheld suspended over their heads huge
rocks, threatening to fall, keeping them in a state of
constant alarm. These were they who had hated their
brothers, or struck their parents, or defrauded the
friends who trusted them, or who, having grown rich,
kept their money to themselves, and gave no share to
others the last being the most numerous class.
; Here
also were those who had violated the marriage vow, or
fought in a bad cause, or failed in fidelity to their em-
ployers. Here was one who had sold his country for
gold, another who perverted the laws, making them say
one thing to-day and another to-morrow.
Ixion was there, fastened to the circumference of a
wheel ceaselessly revolving; and Sisyphus, whose task
was to roll a huge stone up to a hill-top, but when the
steep was well-nigh gained, the rock, repulsed by some
sudden force, rushed again headlong down to the plain.
Again he toiled at it, while the sweat bathed all his
weary limbs, but all to no effect. There was Tantalus,
who stood in a pool, his chin level with the water, yet
he was parched with thirst, and found nothing to as-
suage it; for when he bowed his hoary head, eager to
quaff, the water fled away, leaving the ground at his
feet all dry. Tall trees laden with fruit stooped their
heads to him, pears, pomegranates, apples, and luscious
figs; but when with a sudden grasp he tried to seize
them winds whirled them high above his reach.
The Sibyl now warned Êneas that it was time to
turn from these melancholy regions and seek the city of
the blessed. They passed through a middle tract of
darkness, and came upon the Elysian fields, the groves
where the happy reside. They breathed a freer air,
and saw all objects clothed in a purple light. The re-
gion has a sun and stars of its own. The inhabitants
were enjoying themselves in various ways, some in
sports on the grassy turf, in games of strength or skill,
others dancing or singing. Orpheus struck the chords

of his lyre, and called forth ravishing sounds. Here
y£neas saw the founders of the Trojan state, magnani-
mous heroes who lived in happier times. He gazed
with admiration on the war chariots and glittering arms
now reposing in disuse. Spears stood fixed in the
ground, and the horses, unharnessed, roamed over the
plain. The same pride in splendid armor and generous
steeds which the old heroes felt in life, accompanied
them here. He saw another group feasting and listen-
ing to the strains of music. They were in a laurel grove,
whence the great river Po has its origin, and flows out
among men. Here dwelt those who fell by wounds re-
ceived in their country's cause, holy priests also, and
poets who have uttered thoughts worthy of Apollo, and
others who have contributed to cheer and adorn life by
their discoveries in the useful arts, and have made their
memory blessed by rendering service to mankind. They
wore snow-white fillets about their brows. The Sibyl
addressed a group of these, and inquired where Anchises
was to be found. They were directed where to seek
him, and soon found him in a verdant valley, where he
was contemplating the ranks of his posterity, their des-
tiniesand worthy deeds to be achieved in coming times.
When he recognized Êneas approaching, he stretched
out both hands to him, while tears flowed freely. "Have
you come at last," said he, "long expected, and do I be-
hold you after such perils past? O my son, how have
I trembled for you as I have watched your career!"
To which iEneas replied, "O father! your image was
always before me to guide and guard me." Then he
endeavored to enfold his father in his embrace, but his
arms enclosed only an unsubstantial image.
Êneas perceived before him a spacious valley, with
trees gently waving to the wind, a tranquil landscape,
through which the river Lethe flowed. Along the
banks of the stream wandered a countless multitude,
numerous as insects in the summer air. iEneas, with
surprise, inquired who were these. Anchises answered,
"They are souls to which bodies are to be given in due
time. Meanwhile they dwell on Lethe's bank, and drink
oblivion of former lives."

their "O father!" said
iEneas, "is possible that any can be so in love with
it
life as to wish to leave these tranquil seats for the

upper world?" Anchises replied by explaining the plan
of creation. The Creator, he told him, originally made
the material of which souls are composed of the four
elements, fire, air, earth, and water, all which when
united took the form of the most excellent part, fire, and
became flame. This material was scattered like seed
among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and stars.
Of this seed the inferior gods created man and all other
animals, mingling it with various proportions of earth,
by which its purity was alloyed and reduced. Thus, the
more earth predominates in the composition the less pure
is the individual; and we see men and women with
their full-grown bodies have not the purity of child-
hood. So in proportion to the time which the union of
body and soul has lasted is the impurity contracted by
the spiritual part. This impurity must be purged away
after death, which is done by ventilating the souls in
the current of winds, or merging them in water, or
burning out their impurities by fire. Some few, of whom
Anchises intimates that he is one, are admitted at once
to Elysium, there to remain. But the rest, after the
impurities of earth are purged away, are sent back to
life endowed with new bodies, having had the remem-
brance of their former lives effectually washed away by
the waters of Lethe. Some, however, there still are, so
thoroughly corrupted, that they are not fit to be in-
trusted with human bodies, and these are made into
brute animals, lions, tigers, cats, dogs, monkeys, etc.
This is what the ancients called Metempsychosis, or the
transmigration of souls a doctrine which is still held by
;
the natives of India, who scruple to destroy the life even

of the most insignificant animal, not knowing but it may
be one of their relations in an altered form.
Anchises, having explained so much, proceeded to
point out to yEneas individuals of his race, who were
hereafter to be born, and to relate to him the exploits
they should perform in the world. After this he re-
verted to the present, and told his son of the events that
:
ELYSIUM 273
remained to him be accomplished before the complete

to
establishment of himself and his followers in Italy.
Wars were to be waged, battles fought, a bride to be
won, and in the result a Trojan state founded, from
which should rise the Roman power, to be in time the
sovereign of the world.
iEneas and the Sibyl then took leave of Anchises, and
returned by some short cut, which the poet does not
explain, to the upper world.
ELYSIUM
Virgil, we have seen, places his Elysium under the
earth, and assigns it for a residence to the spirits of
the blessed. But in Homer Elysium forms no part of
the realms of the dead. He places it on the west of the
earth, near Ocean, and describes it as a happy land,
where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor rain, and
always fanned by the delightful breezes of Zephyrus.
Hither favored heroes pass without dying and live happy
under the rule of Rhadamanthus. The Elysium of
Hesiod and Pindar is in the Isles of the Blessed, or
Fortunate Islands, in the Western Ocean. From these
sprang the legend of the happy island Atlantis. This
blissful region may have been wholly imaginary, but
possibly may have sprung from the reports of some
storm-driven mariners who had caught a glimpse of the
coast of America.
J. R. Lowell, in one of his shorter poems, claims for

the present age some of the privileges of that happy
realm. Addressing the Past, he says
"Whatever of true life there was in thee,

Leaps in our age's veins.
Here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care,

Float the green 'Fortunate Isles,'
Where all thy hero-spirits dwell and share
Our martyrdoms and toils.
The present moves attended
With all of brave and excellent and fair
That made the old time splendid."
:

Milton also alludes to the same fable in "Paradise
Lost," Book III, 1. 568:
"Like those Hesperian gardens famed of old,
Fortunate fields and groves and flowery vales,
Thrice happy isles."
And in Book II. he characterizes the rivers of Erebus

according to the meaning of their names in the Greek
language
"Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate,
Sad Acheron of sorrow black and deep;
Cocytus named of lamentation loud
Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon
Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.
Far off from these a slow and silent stream,
Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls
Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks
Forthwith his former state and being forgets,
Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain."
THE SIBYL
As yEneas and the Sibyl pursued their way back to
earth, he said to her, "Whether thou be a goddess or
a mortal beloved of the gods, by me thou shalt always
be held in reverence. When
I reach the upper air I
will cause a temple to be built to thy honor, and will
myself bring offerings." "I am no goddess," said the
Sibyl "I have no claim to sacrifice or offering.
; I am
mortal yet if I could have accepted the love of Apollo
;
I might have been immortal. He promised me the ful-

filment of my wish, if I would consent to be his. I
took a handful of sand, and holding it forth, said, 'Grant
me to see as many birthdays as there are sand grains
in my hand.' Unluckily I forgot to ask for enduring
youth. This also he would have granted, could I have
accepted his love, but offended at my refusal, he allowed
me to grow old. My youth and youthful strength fled
long ago. I have lived seven hundred years, and to
equal the number of the sand grains I have still to see
three hundred springs and three hundred harvests. My
body shrinks up as years increase, and in time, I shall
be lost to sight, but my voice will remain, and future
ages will respect my sayings."
:
THE SIBYL 275
These concluding words of the Sibyl alluded to her

prophetic power. In her cave she was accustomed to
inscribe on leaves gathered from the trees the names
and fates of individuals. The leaves thus inscribed were
arranged in order within the cave, and might be con-
sulted by her votaries. But if perchance at the opening
of the door the wind rushed in and dispersed the leaves
the Sibyl gave no aid to restoring them again, and the
oracle was irreparably lost.
The following legend of the Sibyl is fixed at a later
date. In the reign of one of the Tarquins there ap-
peared before the king a woman who offered him nine
books for sale. The king refused to purchase them,
whereupon the woman went away and burned three of
the books, and returning offered the remaining books
for the same price she had asked for the nine. The
king again rejected them; but when the woman, after
burning three books more, returned and asked for the
three remaining the same price which she had before
asked for the nine, his curiosity was excited, and he
purchased the books. They were found to contain the
destinies of the Roman state. They were kept in the
temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, preserved in a stone chest,
and allowed to be inspected only by especial officers ap-
pointed for that duty, who, on great occasions, consulted
them and interpreted their oracles to the people.
There were various Sibyls but the Cumsean Sibyl, of
;
whom Ovid and Virgil write, is the most celebrated of

them. Ovid's story of her life protracted to one thousand
years may be intended to represent the various Sibyls
as being only reappearances of one and the same in-
dividual.
Young, in the "Night Thoughts," alludes to the Sibyl.

Speaking of Worldly Wisdom, he says
"If future fate she plans 'tis all in leaves,
Like Sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss;
At the first blast it vanishes in air.
As worldly schemes resemble Sibyl's leaves,

The good man's days to Sibyl's books compare,
The price Still rising as in number less."
CHAPTER XXXIII
CAMILLA —EVANDER— NISUS AND EURYALUS MEZEMTIUS
—TURNUS
Êneas, having parted from the Sibyl and rejoined
his fleet, coasted along the shores of Italyand cast anchor
in the mouth of the Tiber. The poet, having brought
his hero to this spot, the destined termination of his wan-
derings, invokes his Muse to tell him the situation of
things at that eventful moment. Latinus, third in descent
from Saturn, ruled the country. He was now old and
had no male descendant, but had one charming daughter,
Lavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighbor-
ing chiefs, one of whom, Turnus, king of the Rutulians,
was favored by the wishes of her parents. But Latinus
had been warned in a dream by his father Faunus, that
the destined husband of Lavinia should come from a for-
eign land. From that union should spring a race destined
to subdue the world.
Our readers will remember that in the conflict with
the Harpies one of those half-human birds had threat-
ened the Trojans with dire sufferings. In particular she
predicted that before their wanderings ceased they
should be pressed by hunger to devour their tables. This
portent now came true; for as they took their scanty
meal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard bis-
cuit on their laps, and put thereon whatever their glean-
ings in the woods supplied. Having despatched the
latter they finished by eating the crusts. Seeing which,
the boy lulus said playfully, "See, we are eating our
tables." Êneas caught the words and accepted the omen.
"All hail, promised land!" he exclaimed, "this is our
home, this our country." He then took measures to find
out who were the present inhabitants of the land, and
who their rulers. Ahundred chosen men were sent
to the village of Latinus, bearing presents and a re-
quest for friendship and alliance. They went and were
favorably received. Latinus immediately concluded that
OPENING THE GATES OF JANUS 277
the Trojan hero was no other than the promised son-in-

law announced by the oracle. He cheerfully granted
his alliance and sent back the messengers mounted on
steeds from his stables, and loaded with gifts and
friendly messages.
Juno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the Tro-
jans, felt her old animosity revive, summoned Alecto
from Erebus, and sent her to stir up discord. The Fury
first took possession of the queen, Amata, and roused
her to oppose in every way the new alliance. Alecto
then speeded to the city of Turnus, and assuming the
form of an old priestess, informed him of the arrival of
the foreigners and of the attempts of their prince to rob
him of his bride. Next she turned her attention to the
camp of the Trojans. There she saw the boy lulus and
his companions amusing themselves with hunting. She
sharpened the scent of the dogs, and led them to rouse
up from the thicket a tame stag, the favorite of Silvia,
the daughter of Tyrrheus, the king's herdsman. A javelin
from the hand of lulus wounded the animal, and he had
only strength left to run homewards, and died at his mis-
tress's feet. Her cries and tears roused her brothers and
the herdsmen, and they, seizing whatever weapons came
to hand, furiously assaulted the hunting party. These
were protected by their friends, and the herdsmen were
finally driven back with the loss of two of their number.
These things were enough to rouse the storm of war,
and the queen, Turnus, and the peasants all urged the
old king to drive the strangers from the country. He
resisted as long as he could, but, finding his opposition
unavailing, finally gave way and retreated to his retire-
ment.
OPENING THE GATES OF JANUS

It was the custom of the country, when war was to
be undertaken, for the chief magistrate, clad in his robes
of office, with solemn pomp to open the gates of the
temple of Janus, which were kept shut as long as peace
endured. His people now urged the old king to perform
that solemn office, but he refused to do so. While they
contested, Juno herself, descending from the skies, smote
the doors with irresistible force, and burst them open.
Immediately the whole country was in a flame. The
people rushed from every side breathing nothing but
war.
Turnus was recognized by all as leader; others joined
as allies, chief of whom was Mezentius, a brave and able
soldier, but of detestable cruelty. He had been the chief
of one of the neighboring cities, but his people drove
him out. With him was joined his son Lausus, a gen-
erous youth, worthy of a better sire.
CAMILLA
Camilla, the favorite of Diana, a huntress and warrior,
after the fashion of the Amazons, came with her band
of mounted followers, including a select number of her
own sex, and ranged herself on the side of Turnus.
This maiden had never accustomed her fingers to the
distaff or the loom, but had learned to endure the toils
of war, and in speed to outstrip the wind. It seemed as
if she might run over the standing corn without crushing
it, or over the surface of the water without dipping her
feet. Camilla's history had been singular from the begin-

ning. Her father, Metabus, driven from his city by civil
discord, carried with him in his flight his infant daughter.
As he fled through the woods, his enemies in hot pursuit,
he reached the bank of the river Amazenus, which,
swelled by rains, seemed to debar a passage. He paused
for a moment, then decided what to do. He tied
the infant to his lance with wrappers of bark, and poising
the weapon upraised hand thus addressed Diana:
in his
;"
"Goddess of the woods I consecrate this maid to you
!
then hurled the weapon with its burden to the opposite

bank. The spear flew across the roaring water. His
pursuers were already upon him, but he plunged into
the river and swam across, and found the spear, with
the infant safe on the other side. Thenceforth he lived
among the shepherds and brought up his daughter in
woodland arts. While a child she was taught to use the
bow and throw the javelin. With her sling she could
EVANDER 279
bring down the crane or the wild swan. Her dress was a
tiger's skin. Many
mothers sought her for a daughter-
in-law, but she continued faithful to Diana and repelled
the thought of marriage.
EVANDER
Such were the formidable allies that ranged them-
selves against iEneas. It was night and he lay stretched
in sleep on the bank of the river under the open heavens.
The god of the stream, Father Tiber, seemed to raise
his head above the willows and to say, "O goddess-born,
destined possessor of the Latin realms, this is the prom-
ised land, here is to be your home, here shall terminate
the hostility of the heavenly powers, if only you faith-

fully persevere. There are friends not far distant. Pre-
pare your boats and row up my stream I will lead you
;
to Evander, the Arcadian chief, he has long been at

strife with Turnus and the Rutulians, and is pre-
pared to become an ally of yours. Rise offer your
!
vows to Juno, and deprecate her anger. When you have

achieved your victory then think of me." Êneas woke
and paid immediate obedience to the friendly vision. He
sacrificed to Juno, and invoked the god of the river and
all his tributary fountains to lend their aid. Then for
the first time a vessel filled with armed warriors floated
on the stream of the Tiber. The river smoothed iis
waves, and bade its current flow gently, while, impelled
by the vigorous strokes of the rowers, the vessels shot
rapidly up the stream.
About the middle of the day they came in sight of
the scattered buildings of the infant town, where in after
times the proud city of Rome grew, whose glory reached
the skies. By chance the old king, Evander, was that
day celebrating annual solemnities in honor of Hercules
and all the gods. Pallas, his son, and all the chiefs of
the little commonwealth stood by. When they saw the
tall ship gliding onward near the wood, they were
alarmed at the sight, and rose from the tables. But
Pallas forbade the solemnities to be interrupted, and
seizing a weapon, stepped forward to the river's bank.
He called aloud, demanding who they were, and what

their object. Êneas, holding forth an olive-branch,
replied, "We are Trojans, friends to you, and enemies
to the Rutulians. We
seek Evander, and offer to join
our arms with yours." Pallas, in amaze at the sound of
so great a name, invited them to land, and when Êneas
touched the shore he seized his hand, and held it long in
friendly grasp. Proceeding through the wood, they
joined the king and his party and were most favorably
received. Seats were provided for them at the tables,
and the repast proceeded.
INFANT ROME
When the solemnities were ended all moved towards
the city. The king, bending with walked be-age,
tween his son and Êneas, taking the arm of one or the
other of them, and with much variety of pleasing talk
shortening the way. Êneas with delight looked and
listened, observing all the beauties of the scene, and
learning much of heroes renowned in ancient times.
Evander said, "These extensive groves were once in-
habited by fauns and nymphs, and a rude race of men
who sprang from the trees themselves, and had neither
laws nor social culture. They knew not how to yoke the
cattle nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present abun-
dance for future want but browsed like beasts upon the
;
leafy boughs, or fed voraciously on their hunted prey.

Such were they when Saturn, expelled from Olympus by
his sons, came among them and drew together the fierce
savages, formed them into society, and gave them laws.
Such peace and plenty ensued that men ever since have
called his reign the golden age but by degrees far other
;
times succeeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of

blood prevailed. The land was a prey to successive ty-
rants, till fortune and resistless destiny brought me
hithc r, an exile from my native land, Arcadia."
Having thus said, he showed him the Tarpeian rock,
and the rude spot then overgrown with bushes where in
after times the Capitol rose in all its magnificence. He
next pointed to some dismantled walls, and said, "Here
:
INFANT ROME 281
stood Janiculum, built by Janus, and there Saturnia, the

town of Saturn." Such discourse brought them to the
cottage of poor Evander, whence they saw the lowing
herds roaming over the plain where now the proud and
stately Forum stands. They entered, and a couch was
spread for iEneas, well stuffed with leaves, and covered
with the skin of a Libyan bear.
Next morning, awakened by the dawn and the shrill
song of birds beneath the eaves of his low mansion, old
Evander rose. Clad in a tunic, and a panther's skin
thrown over his shoulders, with sandals on his feet and
his good sword girded to his side, he went forth to seek
his guest. Two mastiffs followed him, his whole retinue
and body guard. He found the hero attended by his
faithful Achates, and, Pallas soon joining them, the old
king spoke thus
"Illustrious Trojan, it is but little we can do in so
great a cause. Our state is feeble, hemmed in on one
side by the river, on the other by the Rutulians. But I
propose to ally you with a people numerous and rich, to
whom fate has brought you at the propitious moment.
The Etruscans hold the country beyond the river. Mezen-
tius was their king, a monster of cruelty, who invented
unheard-of torments to gratify his vengeance. He
would fasten the dead to the living, hand to hand and
face to face, and leave the wretched victims to die in
that dreadful embrace. At length the people cast him
out, him and his house. They burned his palace and
slew his friends. He escaped and took refuge with
Turnus, who protects him with arms. The Etruscans
demand that he shall be given up to deserved punishment,
and would ere now have attempted to enforce their de-
mand; but their priests restrain them, telling them that
it is the will of heaven that no native of the land shall
guide them to victory, and that thair destined leader

must come from across the sea. They have offered the
crown to me, but I am too old to undertake such great
affairs, and my son is native-born, which precludes him
from the choice. You, equally by birth and time of life,
and fame in arms, pointed out by the gods, have but to
appear to be hailed at once as their leader. With you
—

I will join Pallas, my son, my only hope and comfort.
Under you he shall learn the art of war, and strive to
emulate your great exploits."
Then the king ordered horses to be furnished for
the Trojan chiefs, and iEneas, with a chosen band of
followers and Pallas accompanying, mounted and took
1
the way to the Etruscan city, having sent back the rest
of his party in the ships. Êneas and his band safely ar-
rived at the Etruscan camp and were received with open
arms by Tarchon and his countrymen.
NISUS AND EURYALUS
In the meanwhile Turnus had collected his bands and

made all necessary preparations for the war. Juno sent
Iris to him with a message inciting him to take advan-
tage of the absence of iEneas and surprise the Trojan
camp. Accordingly the attempt was made, but the Tro-
jans were found on their guard, and having received
strict orders from Êneas not to fight in his absence, they
lay still in their intrenchments, and resisted all the efforts
of the Rutulians to draw them into the field. Night
coming on, the army of Turnus, in high spirits at their
fancied superiority, feasted and enjoyed themselves, and
finally stretched themselves on the field and slept secure.
In the camp of the Trojans things were far otherwise.
There all was watchfulness and anxiety and impatience
for iEneas's return. Nisus stood guard at the entrance
of the camp, and Euryalus, a youth distinguished above
all in the army for graces of person and fine qualities,
was with him. These two were friends and brothers
in arms. Nisus said to his friend, "Do you per-
ceive what confidence and carelessness the enemy dis-
play? Their lights are few and dim, and the men seem
all oppressed with wine or sleep. You know how anx-
iously our chiefs wish to send to iEneas, and to get intel-
ligence from him. Now, I am strongly moved to make
my way through the enemy's camp and to go in search
1 The poet here inserts a famous line which is thought to imitate in its
sound the galloping of horses. It may be thus translated: "Then struck

the hoofs of the steeds on the ground with a four-footed trampling."
See Proverbial Expressions.
NISUS AND EURYALUS 283
of our chief. If I succeed, the glory of the deed will be

reward enough for me, and if they judge the service
deserves anything more, let them pay it to you."
Euryalus, all on fire with the love of adventure, re-
plied, "Would you, then, Nisus, refuse to share your
enterprise with me? And shall I let you go into such
danger alone? Not so my brave father brought me up,
nor so have I planned for myself when I joined the
standard of yEneas, and resolved to hold my life cheap
in comparison with honor." Nisus replied, "I doubt it
not, my friend; but you know the uncertain event of
such an undertaking, and whatever may happen to me, I
wish you to be safe. You are younger than I and have
more of life in prospect. Nor can I be the cause of such
grief to your mother, who has chosen to be here in the
camp with you rather than stay and live in peace with
the other matrons in Acestes' city." Euryalus replied,
"Say no more. In vain you seek arguments to dissuade
me. I amfixed in the resolution to go with you. Let us
lose no time." They called the guard, and committing
the watch to them, sought the general's tent. They
found the chief officers in consultation, deliberating how
they should send notice to iEneas of their situation. The
offer of the two friends was gladly accepted, themselves
loaded with praises and promised the most liberal re-
wards in case of success. lulus especially addressed
Euryalus, assuring him of his lasting friendship. Eury-
alus replied, "I have but one boon to ask. My aged
mother is with me in the camp. For me she left the Trojan
soil, and would not stay behind with the other matrons
at the city of Acestes. I go now without taking leave of
her. I could not bear her tears nor set at nought her en-
treaties. But do thou, I beseech you, comfort her in her
distress. Promise me that and I shall go more boldly
into whatever dangers may present themselves." lulus
and the other chiefs were moved to tears, and prom-
ised to do all his request. "Your mother shall be mine,"
said lulus, "and all that I have promised to you shall be
made good to her, if you do not return to receive it."
The two friends left the camp and plunged at once
into the midst of the enemy. They found no watdi,
no sentinels posted, but, all about, the sleeping soldiers

strewn on the grass and among the wagons. The laws
of war at that early day did not forbid a brave man to
slay a sleeping foe, and the two Trojans slew, as they
passed, such of the enemy as they could without exciting
alarm. In one tent Euryalus made prize of a helmet
brilliant with gold and plumes. They had passed through
the enemy's ranks without being discovered, but now
suddenly appeared a troop directly in front of them,
which, under Volscens, their leader, were approaching
the camp. The glittering helmet of Euryalus caught
their attention, and Volscens hailed the two, and de-
manded who and whence they were. They made no
answer, but plunged into the wood. The horsemen
scattered in all directions to intercept their flight. Nisus
had eluded pursuit and was out of danger, but Euryalus
being missing he turned back to seek him. He again en-
tered the wood and soon came within sound of voices.
Looking through the thicket he saw the whole band sur-
rounding Euryalus with noisy questions. What should
he do ? how extricate the youth, or would it be better to
die with him.
Raising his eyes to the moon, which now shone clear,
he said, "Goddess! favor my effort !" and aiming his
javelin at one of the leaders of the troop, struck him
in the back and stretched him on the plain with a death-
blow. In the midst of their amazement another weapon
flew and another of the party fell dead. Volscens, the
leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in
hand upon Euryalus. "You shall pay the penalty off
both," he said, and would have plunged the sword into
his bosom, when Nisus, who from his concealment saw
the peril of his friend, rushed forward exclaiming,
" 'Twas I, 'twas I turn your swords against me, Ru-
;
tulians, I did it he only followed me as a friend." While

;
he spoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely bosom

of Euryalus. His head fell over on his shoulder, like a
flower cut down by the plough. Nisus rushed upon
Volscens and plunged his sword into his body, and was
himself slain on the instant by numberless blows.
MEZENTIUS 285
MEZENTIUS
.Êneas, with his Etrurian allies, arrived on the scene

of action in time to rescue his beleaguered camp; and
now the two armies being nearly equal in strength, the
war began in good earnest. We
cannot find space for
all the details, but must simply record the fate of the
principal characters whom we have introduced to our
readers. The tyrant Mezentius, finding himself engaged
against his revolting subjects, raged like a wild beast.
He slew all who dared to withstand him, and put the
multitude to flight wherever he appeared. At last he
encountered yEneas, and the armies stood still to see
the issue. Mezentius threw his spear, which striking
/Eneas's shield glanced off and hit Anthor. He was a
Grecian by birth, who had left Argos, his native city,
and followed Evander into Italy. The poet says of him
with simple pathos which has made the words proverbial,
"He fell, unhappy, by a wound intended for another,
looked up at the skies, and dying remembered sweet
Argos." 1 /Eneas now in turn hurled his lance. It
pierced the shield of Mezentius, and wounded him in
the thigh. Lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but
rushed forward and interposed himself, while the fol-
lowers pressed round Mezentius and bore him away.
/Eneas held his sword suspended over Lausus and de-
layed to strike, but the furious youth pressed on and he
was compelled to deal the fatal blow. Lausus fell, and
/Eneas bent over him in pity. "Hapless youth," he said,
"what can I do for you worthy of your praise? Keep
those arms in which you glory, and fear not but that your
body shall be restored to your friends, and have due'
funeral honors." So saying, he called the timid follow-
ers and delivered the body into their hands.
Mezentius meanwhile had been borne to the riverside,
and washed his wound. Soon the news reached him of
Lausus's death, and rage and despair supplied the place
of strength. He mounted his horse and dashed into the
thickest of the fight, seeking /Eneas. Having found him,
he rode round him in a circle, throwing one javelin after
another, while Êneas stood fenced with his shield, turn-
ing every way to meet them. At last, after Mezentius
had three times made the circuit, iEneas threw his lance
directly at the horse's head. It pierced his temples and
he fell, while a shout from both armies rent the skies.
Mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might
be spared the insults of his revolted subjects, and be
buried in the same grave with his son. He received the
fatal stroke not unprepared, and poured out his life and
his blood together.
PALLAS, CAMILLA, TURNUS

While these things were doing in one part of the field,
in another Turnus encountered the youthful Pallas. The
contest between champions so unequally matched could
not be doubtful. Pallas bore himself bravely, but fell by
the lance of Turnus. The victor almost relented when
he saw the brave youth lying dead at his feet, and spared
to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoiling him of
his arms. The belt only, adorned with studs and carv-
ings of gold, he took and clasped round his own body.
The rest he remitted to the friends of the slain.
After the battle there was a cessation of arms for
some days to allow both armies to bury their dead. In
this interval iEneas challenged Turnus to decide the con-
test by single combat, but Turnus evaded the challenge.
Another battle ensued, in which Camilla, the virgin war-
rior, was chiefly conspicuous. Her deeds of valor sur-
passed those of the bravest warriors, and many Trojans
and Etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down
by her battle-axe. At last an Etruscan named Aruns,
who had watched her long, seeking for some advantage,
observed her pursuing a flying enemy whose splendid
armor offered a tempting prize. Intent on the chase
she observed not her danger, and the javelin of Aruns
struck her and inflicted a fatal wound. She fell and
breathed her last in the arms of her attendant maidens.
But Diana, who beheld her fate, suffered not her
slaughter to be unavenged. Aruns, as he stole away,
:
PALLAS, CAMILLA, TURNUS 287
glad, but frightened, was struck by a secret arrow,

launched by one of the nymphs of Diana's train, and
died ignobly and unknown.
At length the final conflict took place between iEneas
and Turnus. Turnus had avoided the contest as long as
he could, but at last, impelled by the ill success of his
arms and by the murmurs of his followers, he braced
himself to the conflict. It could not be doubtful. On
the side of y£neas were the expressed decree of destiny,
the aid of his goddess-mother at every emergency, and
impenetrable armor fabricated by Vulcan, at her request,
for her son. Turnus, on the other hand, was deserted
by his celestial allies, Juno having been expressly for-
bidden by Jupiter to assist him any longer. Turnus
threw his lance, but it recoiled harmless from the shield
of Êneas. The Trojan hero then threw his, which pene-
trated the shield of Turnus, and pierced his thigh. Then
Turnus's fortitude forsook him and he begged for mercy;
and Êneas would have given him his life, but at the in-
stant his eye fell on the belt of Pallas, which Turnus had
taken from the slaughtered youth. Instantly his rage
revived, and exclaiming, "Pallas immolates thee with
this blow," he thrust him through with his sword.
Here the poem of the "iEneid" closes, and we are
left to infer that iEneas, having triumphed over his foes,
obtained Lavinia for his bride. Tradition adds that he
founded his city, and called it after her name, Lavin-
ium. His son lulus founded Alba Longa, which was the
birthplace of Romulus and Remus and the cradle of
Rome itself.
There is an allusion to Camilla in those well-known

lines ofPope, in which, illustrating the rule that "the
sound should be an echo to the sense," he says
"When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
The line too labors and the words move slow.
Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,
Flies o'er th' unbending corn or skims along the main."
—
Essay on Criticism.
CHAPTER XXXIV
PYTHAGORAS —EGYPTIAN DEITIES ORACLES
PYTHAGORAS
The teachings of Anchises to Êneas, respecting the
nature of the human soul, were in conformity with the
doctrines of the Pythagoreans. Pythagoras (born five
hundred and forty years B.C.) was a native of the
island of Samos, but passed the chief portion of his
life at Crotona in Italy. He is therefore sometimes
called "the Samian," and sometimes "the philosopher of
Crotona." When young he travelled extensively, and
it is said visited Egypt, where he was instructed by the
priests in all their learning, and afterwards journeyed

to the East, and visited the Persian and Chaldean Magi,
and the Brahmins of India.
At Crotona, where he finally established himself, his
extraordinary qualities collected round him a great num-
ber of disciples. The inhabitants were notorious for
luxury and licentiousness, but the good effects of his
influence were soon visible. Sobriety and temperance
succeeded. Six hundred of the inhabitants became his
disciples and enrolled themselves in a society to aid each
other in the pursuit of wisdom, uniting their prop-
erty in one common stock for the benefit of the whole.
They were required to practise the greatest purity and
simplicity of manners. The first lesson they learned
was silence; for a time they were required to be only
hearers. "He [Pythagoras] said so" (Ipse dixit), was
to be held by them as sufficient, without any proof. It
was only the advanced pupils, after years of patient
submission, who were allowed to ask questions and to
state objections.
Pythagoras considered numbers as the essence and
principle of all things, and attributed to them a real and
distinct existence ;so that, in his view, they were the
elements out of which the universe was constructed.
PYTHAGORAS 289
How he conceived this process has never been satis-

factorily explained. He traced the various forms and
phenomena of the world to numbers as their basis and
essence. The "Monad" or unit he regarded as the
source of all numbers. The number Two was imper-
fect, and the cause of increase and division. Three was
called the number of the whole because it had a be-
ginning, middle, and end. Four, representing the square,
is in the highest degree perfect; and Ten, as it contains
the sum of the four prime numbers, comprehends all
musical and arithmetical proportions, and denotes the
system of the world.
As the numbers proceed from the monad, so he re-
garded the pure and simple essence of the Deity as the
source of all the forms of nature. Gods, demons, and
heroes are emanations of the Supreme, and there is a
fourth emanation, the human soul. This is immortal,
and when freed from the fetters of the body passes to
the habitation of the dead, where it remains till it re-
turns to the world, to dwell in some other human or
animal body, and at last, when sufficiently purified, it
returns to the source from which it proceeded. This
doctrine of the transmigration of souls (metempsycho-
sis), which was originally Egyptian and connefcted with
the doctrine of reward and punishment of human ac-
tions, was the chief cause why the Pythagoreans killed
no animals. Ovid represents Pythagoras addressing his
disciples in these words "Souls never die, but always
:
on quitting one abode pass to another. I myself can*

remember that in the time of the Trojan war I was
Euphorbus, the son of Panthus, and fell by the spear
of Menelaus. Lately being in the temple of Juno, at
Argos, I recognized my shield hung up there among
the trophies. All things change, nothing perishes. The
soul passes hither and thither, occupying now this body,
now that, passing from the body of a beast into that
of a man, and thence to a beast's again. As wax is
stamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped
anew with others, yet is always the same wax, so the
soul, being always the same, yet wears, at different
times, different forms. Therefore, if the love of kin-
:
dred is not extinct in your bosoms, forbear, I entreat

you, to violate the life of those who may haply be your
own relatives."
Shakspeare, in the "Merchant of Venice," makes

Gratiano allude to the metempsychosis, where he says
to Shylock:
"Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith,

To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That souls of animals infuse themselves
Into the trunks of men; thy currish spirit
Governed a wolf who hanged for human slaughter
;
Infused his soul in thee; for thy desires

Are wolfish, bloody, starved and ravenous."
The relation of the notes of the musical scale to

numbers, whereby harmony results from vibrations in
equal times, and discord from the reverse, led Pythag-
oras to apply the word "harmony" to the visible crea-
tion, meaning by it the just adaptation of parts to each
other. This is the idea which Dryden expresses in the
beginning of his "Song for St. Cecilia's Day":
"From harmony, from heavenly harmony

This everlasting frame began;
From harmony to harmony
Through the compass of the notes
all it ran,
The Diapason closing full in Man."
In the centre of the universe (he taught) there was a

central fire, the principle of life. The central fire was
surrounded by the earth, the moon, the sun, and the
five planets. The distances of the various heavenly
bodies from one another were conceived to correspond
to the proportions of the musical scale. The heavenly
bodies, with the gods who inhabited them, were sup-
posed to perform a choral dance round the central fire,
"not without song." It is this doctrine which Shak-
speare alludes to when he makes Lorenzo teach astron-
omy to Jessica in this fashion
"Look, Jessica, see how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold I
: ! —
PYTHAGORAS 291
There's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st

But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim;
Such harmony is in immortal souls!
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it."
—
Merchant of Venice.
t
,
The spheres were conceived to be crystalline or glassy

fabrics arranged over one another like a nest of bowls
reversed. In the substance of each sphere one or more
of the heavenly bodies was supposed to be fixed, so as
to move with it. As the spheres are transparent we
look through them and see the heavenly bodies which
they contain and carry round with them. But as these
spheres cannot move on one another without friction,
a sound is thereby produced which is of exquisite har-
mony, too fine for mortal ears to recognize. Milton, in
his "Hymn on the Nativity," thus alludes to the music
of the spheres
"Ring out, ye crystal spheres

Once bless our human ears
(If ye have power to charm our senses so) ;
And let your silver chime

Move in melodious time,
And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow;
And with your ninefold harmony
Make up full concert with the angelic symphony."
Pythagoras is said to have invented the lyre. Our

own poet Longfellow, in "Verses to a Child," thus re-
lates the story:
"As great Pythagoras of yore,

Standing beside the blacksmith's door,
And hearing the hammers as they smote
The anvils with a different note,
Stole from the varying tones that hung
Vibrant on every iron tongue,
The secret of the sounding wire,
And formed the seven-chorded lyre."
See also the same poet's "Occupation of Orion"

"The Samian's great Êolian lyre."
SYBARIS AND CROTONA

Sybaris, a neighboring city to Crotona, was as cele-
brated for luxury and effeminacy as Crotona for the
reverse. The name has become proverbial. J. R.
Lowell uses it in this sense in his charming little poem
"To the Dandelion":
"Not in mid June the golden cuirassed bee
Feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment
In the white lily's breezy tent
(His conquered Sybaris) than I when first
From the dark green thy yellow circles burst."
A war arose between the two cities, and Sybaris was

conquered and destroyed. Milo, the celebrated athlete,
led the army of Crotona. Many stories are told of
Milo's vast strength, such as his carrying a heifer of
four years old upon his shoulders and afterwards eat-
ing the whole of it in a single day. The mode of his
death is thus related: As he was passing through a
forest he saw the trunk of a tree which had been par-
tially split open by wood-cutters, and attempted to rend
it further; but the wood closed upon his hands and held
him fast, in which state he was attacked and devoured

by wolves.
Byron, in his "Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte," alludes

to the story of Milo:
"He who of old would rend the oak

Deemed not of the rebound;
Chained by the trunk he vainly broke,
Alone, how looked he round!"
EGYPTIAN DEITIES
The Egyptians acknowledged the highest deity
as
Amun, afterwards called Zeus, Jupiter Ammon.
or
Amun manifested himself in his word or will, which
created Kneph and Athor, of different sexes. From
Kneph and Athor proceeded Osiris and Isis. Osiris was
worshipped as the god of the sun, the source of warmth,
:
MYTH OF OSIRIS AND ISIS 293
life,and fruitfulness, in addition to which he was also

regarded as the god of the Nile, who annually visited
his wife, Isis (the Earth), by means of an inundation.
Serapis or Hermes is sometimes represented as identical
with Osiris, and sometimes as a distinct divinity, the
ruler of Tartarus and god of medicine. Anubis is the
guardian god, represented with a dog's head, emblematic
of his character of fidelity and watchfulness. Horus or
Harpocrates was the son of Osiris. He is represented
seated on a Lotus flower, with his finger on his lips, as
the god of Silence.
In one of Moore's "Irish Melodies" is an allusion to

Harpocrates
"Thyself shall, under some rosy bower,
Sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip;
Like him, the boy, who born among
The flowers that on the Nile-stream blush,
Sits ever thus,—his only song
To Earth and Heaven, 'Hush all, hush!'"
MYTH OF OSIRIS AND ISIS
Osiris and Isis were at one time induced to descend

to the earth to bestow gifts and blessings on its inhabi-
tants. Isis showed them first the use of wheat and
barley, and Osiris made the instruments of agriculture
and taught men the use of them, as well as how to
harness the ox to the plough. He then gave men laws,
the institution of marriage, a civil organization, and
taught them how to worship the gods. After he had
thus made the valley of the Nile a happy country,
he assembled a host with which he went to bestow his
blessings upon the rest of the world. He conquered the
nations everywhere, but not with weapons, only with
music and eloquence. His brother Typhon saw this,
and filled with envy and malice sought during his ab-
sence to usurp his throne. But Isis, who held the reins
of government, frustrated his plans. Still more em-
bittered, he now resolved to kill his brother. This he
did in the following manner: Having organized a con-
spiracy of seventy-two members, he went with them
to the feast which was celebrated in honor of the king's

return. He then caused a box or chest to be brought
in, which had been made to fit exactly the size of Osiris,
and declared that he would give that chest of precious
wood to whosoever could get into it. The rest tried
in vain, but no sooner was Osiris in it than Typhon and
his companions closed the lid and flung the chest into
the Nile. When Isis heard of the cruel murder she
wept and mourned, and then with her hair shorn, clothed
in black and beating her breast, she sought diligently
for the body of her husband. In this search she was
materially assisted by Anubis, the son of Osiris and
Nephthys. They sought in vain for some time; for
when the chest, carried by the waves to the shores of
Byblos, had become entangled in the reeds that grew
at the edge of the water, the divine power that dwelt in
the body of Osiris imparted such strength to the shrub
that it grew into a mighty tree, enclosing in its trunk
the coffin of the god. This tree with its sacred deposit
was shortly after felled, and erected as a column in
the palace of the king of Phoenicia. But at length by
the aid of Anubis and the sacred birds, Isis ascertained
these facts, and then went to the royal city. There she
offered herself at the palace as a servant, and being
admitted, threw off her disguise and appeared as a
goddess, surrounded with thunder and lightning. Strik-
ing the column with her wand she caused it to split open
and give up the sacred coffin. This she seized and re-
turned with it, and concealed it in the depth of a forest,
but Typhon discovered it, and cutting the body into
fourteen pieces scattered them hither and thither. After
a tedious search, Isis found thirteen pieces, the fishes
of the Nile having eaten the other. This she replaced
by an imitation of sycamore wood, and buried the body
at Philse, which became ever after the great burying
place of the nation, and the spot to which pilgrimages
were made from all parts of the country. A tempje
of surpassing magnificence was also erected there in
honor of the god, and at every place where one of his
limbs had been found minor temples and tombs were
built to commemorate the event. Osiris became after
MYTH OF OSIRIS AND ISIS 295
that the tutelar deity of the Egyptians. His soul was

supposed always to inhabit the body of the bull Apis,
and at his death to transfer itself to his successor.
Apis, the Bull of Memphis, was worshipped with the
greatest reverence by the Egyptians. The individual
animal who was held to be Apis was recognized by
certain signs. It was requisite that he should be quite
black, have a white square mark on the forehead, an-
other, in the form of an eagle, on his back, and under
his tongue a lump somewhat in the shape of a scara-
bseus or beetle. As soon as a bull thus marked was
found by those sent in search of him, he was placed in
a building facing the east, and was fed with milk for
four months. At the expiration of this term the priests
repaired at new moon, with great pomp, to his habita-
tion and saluted him Apis. He was placed in a vessel
magnificently decorated and conveyed down the Nile to
Memphis, where a temple, with two chapels and a court
for exercise, was assigned to him. Sacrifices were made
to him, and once every year, about the time when the
Nile began to rise, a golden cup was thrown into the
river, and a grand festival was held to celebrate his
birthday. The people believed that during this festival
the crocodiles forgot their natural ferocity and became
harmless. There was, however, one drawback to his
happy lot: he was not permitted to live beyond a cer-
tain period, and if, when he had attained the age of
twenty-five years, he still survived, the priests drowned
him in the sacred cistern and then buried him in the
temple of Serapis. On the death of this bull, whether it
occurred in the course of nature or by violence, the
whole land was filled with sorrow and lamentations,
which lasted until his successor was found.
We find the following item in one of the newspapers
of the day:
—
"The Tomb of Apis. The excavations going on at
Memphis bid fair to make that buried city as interesting
as Pompeii. The monster tomb of Apis is now open,
after having lain unknown for centuries."
Milton, in his "Hymn on the Nativity," alludes to

: ;
the Egyptian deities, not as imaginary beings, but as

real demons, put to flight by the coming of Christ.
"The brutish gods of Nile as fast,

Isis and Horus and the dog Anubis haste.
Nor is Osiris seen
In Memphian grove or green
Trampling the 1 unshowered grass with lowings loud
Nor can he be at rest
Within his sacred chest;
Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud.
In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark
The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipped ark."
Isis was represented in statuary with the head veiled,

a symbol of mystery. It is this which Tennyson al-
ludes to in "Maud," IV., 8
"For the drift of the Maker is dark, an Isis hid by the veil," etc.
ORACLES
Oracle was the name used to denote the place where
answers were supposed to be given by any of the
divinities to those who consulted them respecting the
future. The word was also used to signify the re-
sponse which was given.
The most ancient Grecian oracle was that of Jupiter
at Dodona. According to one account, it was estab-
lished in the following manner: Two black doves took
their flight from Thebes in Egypt. One flew to Dodona
in Epirus, and alighting in a grove of oaks, it pro-
claimed in human language to the inhabitants of the
district that they must establish there an oracle of Jupi-
ter. The other dove flew to the temple of Jupiter
Ammon in the Libyan Oasis, and delivered a similar
command there. Another account is, that they were not
doves, but priestesses, who were carried off from
Thebes in Egypt by the Phoenicians, and set up oracles
at the Oasis and Dodona. The responses of the oracle
1 There being
no rain in Egypt, the grass is "unshowered," and the
country depends for its fertility upon the overflowings of the Nile. The
ark alluded to in the last line is shown by pictures still remaining on the
walls of the Egyptian temples to have been borne by the priests in their
religious processions. It probably represented the chest in which Osiris
was placed.
ORACLE OF TROPHONIUS 297
were given from the trees, by the branches rustling in

the wind, the sounds being interpreted by the priests.
But the most celebrated of the Grecian oracles was
that of Apollo at Delphi, a city built on the slopes of
Parnassus in Phocis.
It had been observed at a very early period that the
goats feeding on Parnassus were thrown into convul-
sions when they approached a certain long deep cleft
in the side of the mountain. This was owing to a
peculiar vapor arising out of the cavern, and one of
the goatherds was induced to try its effects upon him-
self. Inhaling the intoxicating air, he was affected in
the same manner as the cattle had been, and the in-
habitants of the surrounding country, unable to explain
the circumstance, imputed the convulsive ravings to
which he gave utterance while under the power of the
exhalations to a divine inspiration. The fact was speed-
ily circulated widely, and a temple was erected on the
spot. The prophetic influence was at first variously
attributed to the goddess Earth, to Neptune, Themis,
and others, but it was at length assigned to Apollo, and
to him alone. A priestess was appointed whose office
it was to inhale the hallowed air, and who was named
the Pythia. She was prepared for this duty by previ-

ous ablution at the fountain of Castalia, and being
crowned with laurel was seated upon a tripod similarly
adorned, which was placed over the chasm whence the
divine afflatus proceeded. Her inspired words while
thus situated were interpreted by the priests.
ORACLE OF TROPHONIUS
Besides the oracles of Jupiter and Apollo, at Dodona
and Delphi, that of Trophonius in Boeotia was held in
high estimation. Trophonius and Agamedes were
brothers. They were distinguished architects, and built
the temple of Apollo at Delphi, and a treasury for King
Hyrieus. In the wall of the treasury they placed a
stone, in such a manner that it could be taken out; and
by this means, from time to time, purloined the treasure.
This amazed Hyrieus, for his locks and seals were un-
touched, and yet his wealth continually diminished. At

length he set a trap for the thief and Agamedes was
caught. Trophonius, unable to extricate him, and fear-
ing that when found he would be compelled by torture
to discover his accomplice, cut off his head. Trophonius
himself is said to have been shortly afterwards swal-
lowed up by the earth.
The oracle of Trophonius was at Lebadea in Bceotia.
During a great drought the Boeotians, it is said, were
directed by the god at Delphi to seek aid of Tropho-
nius at Lebadea. They came thither, but could find
no oracle. One of them, however, happening to see a
swarm of bees, followed them to a chasm in the earth,
which proved to be the place sought.
Peculiar ceremonies were to be performed by the
person who came to consult the oracle. After these
preliminaries, he descended into the cave by a narrow
passage. This place could be entered only in the night.
The person returned from the cave by the same nar-
row passage, but walking backwards. He appeared mel-
ancholy and dejected; and hence the proverb which was
applied to a person low-spirited and gloomy, "He has
been consulting the oracle of Trophonius."
ORACLE OF ^SCULAPIUS
There were numerous oracles of iEsculapius, but the
most celebrated one was at Epidaurus. Here the sick
sought responses and the recovery of their health by
sleeping in the temple. It has been inferred from the
accounts that have come down to us that the treatment
of the sick resembled what is now called Animal Mag-
netism or Mesmerism.
Serpents were sacred to iEsculapius, probably be-
cause of a superstition that those animals have a faculty
of renewing their youth by a change of skin. The wor-
ship of Êsculapius was -introduced into Rome in a time
of great sickness, and an embassy sent to the temple of
Epidaurus to entreat the aid of the god. iEsculapius
was propitious, and on the return of the ship accom-
panied it in the form of a serpent. Arriving in the
: :
ORACLE OF APIS 299
river Tiber, the serpent glided from the vessel and took
possession of an island in the river, and a temple was
there erected to his honor.
ORACLE OF APIS
At Memphis the sacred bull Apis gave answer to those
who consulted him by the manner in which he received
or rejected what was presented to him. If the bull
refused food from the hand of the inquirer it was con-
sidered an unfavorable sign, and the contrary when he
received it.
It has been a question whether oracular responses
ought to be ascribed to mere human contrivance or to
the agency of evil spirits. The latter opinion has been
most general in past ages. A
third theory has been
advanced since the phenomena of Mesmerism have at-
tracted attention, that something like the mesmeric
trance was induced in the Pythoness, and the faculty
of clairvoyance really called into action.
Another question is as to the time when the Pagan
oracles ceased to give responses. Ancient Christian
writers assert that they became silent at the birth of
Christ, and were heard no more after that date. Milton
adopts this view in his "Hymn on the Nativity," and
in lines of solemn and elevated beauty pictures the
consternation of the heathen idols at the advent of the
Saviour
"The oracles are dumb;
No voice or hideous hum
Rings through the arched roof in words deceiving.
Apollo from his shrine
Can no more divine,
With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
No nightly trance or breathed spell
Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell."
In Cowper's poem of "Yardley Oak" there are some

beautiful mythological allusions. The former of the
two following is to the fable of Castor and Pollux; the
latter is more appropriate to our present subject. Ad-
dressing the acorn he says
: ;

"Thou fell'st mature; and in the loamy clod,
Swelling with vegetative force instinct,
Didst burst thine egg, as theirs the fabled Twins
Now stars two lobes protruding, paired exact
;
A leaf succeeded and another leaf,

And, all the elements thy puny growth
Fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig.
Who lived when thou wast such? O, couldst thou speak,
As in Dodona once thy kindred trees
Oracular, I would not curious ask
The future, best unknown, but at thy mouth
Inquisitive, the less ambiguous past."
Tennyson, in his "Talking Oak," alludes to the oaks

of Dodona in these lines
"And I will work in prose and rhyme,

And praise thee more in both
Than bard has honored beech or lime,
Or that Thessalian growth
In which the swarthy ring-dove sat
And mystic sentence spoke etc.
Byron alludes to the oracle of Delphi where, speaking

of Rousseau, whose writings he conceives did much to
bring on the French revolution, he says:
"For then he was inspired, and from him came,

As from the Pythian's mystic cave of yore,
Those oracles which set the world in flame,
Nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more."
CHAPTER XXXV
ORIGIN OF MYTHOLOGY —
STATUES OF GODS AND GODDESSES
POETS OF MYTHOLOGY
ORIGIN OF MYTHOLOGY
Having reached the close of our series of stories of

Pagan mythology, an inquiry suggests itself. "Whence
came these stories? Have they a foundation in truth,
or are they simply dreams of the imagination?" Phi-
losophers have suggested various theories on the sub-
ORIGIN OF MYTHOLOGY 301
ject; and 1. The Scriptural theory; according to which

all mythological legends are derived from the narratives
of Scripture, though the real facts have been disguised
and altered. Thus Deucalion is only another name for
Noah, Hercules for Samson, Arion for Jonah, etc. Sir
Walter Raleigh, in his "History of the World," says,
"Jubal, Tubal, and Tubal-Cain were Mercury, Vulcan,
and Apollo, inventors of Pasturage, Smithing, and Mu-
sic. The Dragon which kept the golden apples was the
serpent that beguiled Eve. Nimrod's tower was the
attempt of the Giants against Heaven." There are doubt-
less many curious coincidences like these, but the theory
cannot without extravagance be pushed so far as to ac-
count for any great proportion of the stories.
2. The Historical theory; according to which all the
persons mentioned in mythology were once real human
beings, and the legends and fabulous traditions relating
to them are merely the additions and embellishments of
later times. Thus the story of Êolus, the king and god
of the winds, is supposed to have risen from the fact
that iEolus was the ruler of some islands in the Tyrrhe-
nian Sea, where he reigned as a just and pious king,
and taught the natives the use of sails for ships, and
how to tell from the signs of the atmosphere the changes
of the weather and the winds. Cadmus, who, the legend
says, sowed the earth with dragon's teeth, from which
sprang a crop of armed men, was in fact an emigrant
from Phoenicia, and brought with him into Greece the
knowledge of the letters of the alphabet, which he taught
to the natives. From these rudiments of learning
sprung civilization, which the poets have always been
prone to describe as a deterioration of man's first estate,
the Golden Age of innocence and simplicity.
3. The Allegorical theory supposes that all the myths
of the ancients were allegorical and symbolical, and con-
tained some moral, religious, or philosophical truth or
historical fact, under the form of an allegory, but came
in process of time to be understood literally. Thus Sat-
urn, who devours his own children, is the same power
whom the Greeks called Cronos (Time), which may
truly be said to destroy whatever it has brought into
:
existence. The story of Io is interpreted in a similar

manner. Io is the moon, and Argus the starry sky,
which, as it were, keeps sleepless watch over her. The
fabulous wanderings of Io represent the continual rev-
olutions of the moon, which also suggested to Milton
the same idea.
"To behold the wandering moon

Riding near her highest noon,
Like one that had been led astray
In the heaven's wide, pathless way."
— II Penseroso.
4. The Physical theory; according to which the ele-

ments of and water were originally the objects
air, fire,
of religious adoration, and the principal deities were
personifications of the powers of nature. The tran-
sition was easy from a personification of the elements
to the notion of supernatural beings presiding over and
governing the different objects of nature. The Greeks,
whose imagination was lively, peopled all nature with
invisible beings, and supposed that every object, from
the sun and sea to the smallest fountain and rivulet, was
under the care of some particular divinity. Words-
worth, in his "Excursion," has beautifully developed
this view of Grecian mythology
"In that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched

On the soft grass through half a summer's day,
With music lulled his indolent repose;
And, in some fit of weariness, if he,
When his own breath was silent, chanced to hear
A distant strain far sweeter than the sounds
Which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched
Even from the blazing chariot of the Sun
A beardless youth who touched a golden lute,
And rilled the illumined groves with ravishment.
The mighty hunter, lifting up his eyes
Toward the crescent Moon, with grateful heart
Called on the lovely Wanderer who bestowed
That timely light to share his joyous sport;
And hence a beaming goddess with her nymphs
Across the lawn and through the darksome grove
(Not unaccompanied with tuneful notes
By echo multiplied from rock or cave)
Swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars
THE OLYMPIAN JUPITER 303
Glance rapidly along the clouded heaven

When winds are blowing strong. The Traveller slaked
His thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked
The Naiad. Sunbeams upon distant hills
Gliding apace with shadows in their train,
Might with small help from fancy, be transformed
Into fleet Oreads sporting visibly.
The Zephyrs, fanning, as they passed, their wings,
Lacked not for love fair objects whom they wooed
With gentle whisper. Withered boughs grotesque,
Stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age,
From depth of shaggy covert peeping forth
In the low vale, or on steep mountain side;
And sometimes intermixed with stirring horns
Of the live deer, or goat's depending beard;
These were the lurking Satyrs, a wild brood
Of gamesome deities; or Pan himself,
That simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god."
All the theories which have been mentioned are true

to a certain extent. It would therefore be more cor-
rect to say that the mythology of a nation has sprung
from all these sources combined than from any one in
particular. We
may add also that there are many
myths which have arisen from the desire of man to ac-
count for those natural phenomena which he cannot
understand; and not a few have had their rise from a
similar desire of giving a reason for the names of places
and persons.
STATUES OF THE GODS
To adequately represent to the eye the ideas intended
to be conveyed to the mind under the several names of
deities was a task which called into exercise the high-
est powers of genius and art. Of the many attempts
four have been most celebrated, the first two known to
us only by the descriptions of the ancients, the others
still extant and the acknowledged masterpieces of the
sculptor's art.
THE OLYMPIAN JUPITER

The statue of the Olympian Jupiter by Phidias was
considered the highest achievement of this department
of Grecian art. It was of colossal dimensions, and was
what the ancients called "chryselephantine;" that is,

composed of ivory and gold the parts representing flesh
;
being of ivory laid on a core of wood or stone, while

the drapery and other ornaments were of gold. The
height of the figure was forty feet, on a pedestal twelve
feet high. The god was represented seated on his
throne. His brows were crowned with a wreath of
olive, and he held in his right hand a sceptre, and in
his left a statue of Victory. The throne was of cedar,
adorned with gold and precious stones.
The idea which the artist essayed to embody was that
of the supreme deity of the Hellenic (Grecian) nation,
enthroned as a conqueror, in perfect majesty and re-
pose, and ruling with a nod the subject world. Phidias
avowed that he took his idea from the representation
which Homer gives in the first book of the "Iliad," in
the passage thus translated by Pope:
"He spoke and awful bends his sable brows,
Shakes his rmbrosial curls and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate and sanction of the god.
High heaven with reverence the dread signal took,
And all Olympus to the centre shook/' 1
THE MINERVA OF THE PARTHENON

This was also the work of Phidias. It stood in thq
Parthenon, or temple of Minerva at Athens. The god-
dess was represented standing. In one hand she held a
spear, in the other a statue of Victory. Her helmet,
highly decorated, was surmounted by a Sphinx. The
statue was forty feet in height, and, like the Jupiter,
composed of ivory and gold. The eyes were of marble,
and probably painted to represent the iris and pupil.
1 Cowper's version is less elegant, but truer to the original:
"He ceased, and under his dark brows the nod
Vouchsafed of confirmation. All around
The sovereign's everlasting head his curls
Ambrosial shook, and the huge mountain reeled."
It may interest our readers to see how this passage appears in another
famous version, that which was issued under the name of Tickell, con-
temporaneously with Pope's, and which, being by many attributed to
Addison, led to the quarrel which ensued between Addison and Pope:
"This said, his kingly brow the sire inclined;
The large black curls fell awful from behind,
Thick shadowing the stern forehead of the god;
Olympus trembled at the almighty nod."
:
THE VENUS DEV. MEDICI 305
The Parthenon, in which this statue stood, was also

constructed under the direction and superintendence of
Phidias. Its exterior was enriched with sculptures,
many of them from the hand of Phidias. The Elgin
marbles, now in the British Museum, are a part of
them.
Both the Jupiter and Minerva of Phidias are lost,
but there is good ground to believe that we have, in
several extant statues and busts, the artist's concep-
tions of the countenances of both. They are character-
ized by grave and dignified beauty, and freedom from
any transient expression, which in the language of art
is called repose.
THE VENUS DE' MEDICI
The Venus of the Medici is so called from its hav-

ing been in the possession of the princes of that name
in Rome when it first attracted attention, about two
hundred years ago. An inscription on the base records
it to be the work of Cleomenes, an Athenian sculptor
of 200 B.C., but the authenticity of the inscription is
doubtful. There is a story that the artist was employed
by public authority to make a statue exhibiting the per-
fection of female beauty, and to aid him in his task the
most perfect forms the city could supply were furnished
him for models. It is this which Thomson alludes to
in his "Summer":
"So stands the statue that enchants the world;
So bending tries to veil the matchless boast,
The mingled beauties of exulting Greece."
Byron also alludes to this statue. Speaking of the

Florence Museum, he says
"There, too, the goddess loves in stone, and fills
The air around with beauty;" etc.
And in the next stanza,

"Blood, pulse, and breast confirm the Dardan shepherd's prize."
See this last allusion explained in Chapter XXVII.

THE APOLLO BELVEDERE

The most highly esteemed of all the remains of an-
cient sculpture is the statue of Apollo, called the Belve-
dere, from the name of the apartment of the Pope's
palace at Rome in which it was placed. The artist
is unknown. It is supposed to be a work of Roman
art, of about the first century of our era. It is a stand-
ing figure, in marble, more than seven feet high, naked
except for the cloak which is fastened around the neck
and hangs over the extended left arm. It is supposed
to represent the god in the moment when he has shot
the arrow to destroy the monster Python. (See Chapter
III.) The victorious divinity is in the act of step-
ping forward. The arm, which seems to have held
left
the bow, is outstretched, and the head is turned in the
same direction. In attitude and proportion the graceful
majesty of the figure is unsurpassed. The effect is com-
pleted by the countenance, where on the perfection of
youthful godlike beauty there dwells the consciousness
of triumphant power.
THE DIANA A LA BICHE

The Diana of the Hind, in the palace of the Louvre,
may be considered the counterpart to the Apollo Belve-
dere. The attitude much resembles that of the Apollo,
the sizes correspond and also the style of execution.
It is a work of the highest order, though by no means
equal to the Apollo. The attitude is that of hurried and
eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the ex-
citement of the chase. The left hand is extended over
the forehead of the Hind, which runs by her side, the
right arm reaches backward over the shoulder to draw
an arrow from the quiver.
THE POETS OF MYTHOLOGY

Homer, from whose poems of the "Iliad" and "Odys-
sey" we have taken the chief part of our chapters of
the Trojan war and the return of the Grecians, is
VIRGIL 307
almost as mythical a personage as the heroes he cele-

brates. The traditionary story is that he was a wander-
ing minstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to
place singing his lays to the music of his harp, in the
courts of princes or the cottages of peasants, and de-
pendent upon the voluntary offerings of his hearers for
support. Byron calls him "The blind old man of Scio's
rocky isle," and a well-known epigram, alluding to the
uncertainty of the fact of his birthplace, says:
"Seven wealthy towns contend for Homer dead,

Through which the living Homer begged his bread."
These seven were Smyrna, Scio, Rhodes, Colophon,

Salamis, Argos, and Athens.
Modern scholars have doubted whether the Homeric
poems are the work of any single mind. This arises
from the difficulty of believing that poems of such
length could have been committed to writing at so early
an age as that usually assigned to these, an age earlier
than the date of any remaining inscriptions or coins,
and when no materials capable of containing such long
productions were yet introduced into use. On the other
hand it is asked how poems of such length could have
been handed down from age to age by means of the
memory alone. This is answered by the statement that
there was a professional body of men, called Rhap-
sodists, who recited the poems of others, and whose
business it was to commit to memory and rehearse for
pay the national and patriotic legends.
The prevailing opinion of the learned, at this time,
seems to be that the framework and much of the struc-
ture of the poems belong to Homer, but that there are
numerous interpolations and additions by other hands.
The date assigned to Homer, on the authority of
Herodotus, is 850 B.C.
VIRGIL
Virgil, called also by his surname, Maro, from whose

poem of the "Êneid" we have taken the story of ^Lneas,
was one of the great poets who made the reign of the
Roman emperor Augustus so celebrated, under the name
of the Augustan age. Virgil was born in Mantua in the
year 70 B.C. His great poem is ranked next to those
of Homer, in the highest class of poetical composition,
the Epic. Virgil is far inferior to Homer in originality
and invention, but superior to him in correctness and
elegance. To critics of English lineage Milton alone
of modern poets seems worthy to be classed with these
illustrious ancients. His poem of "Paradise Lost," from
which we have borrowed so many illustrations, is in many
respects equal, in some superior, to either of the great
works of antiquity. The following epigram of Dryden
characterizes the three poets with as much truth as it is
usual to find in such pointed criticism:
"On Milton
"Three poets in three different ages born,
Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.
The first in loftiness of soul surpassed,
The next in majesty, in both the last.
The force of nature could no further go;
To make a third she joined the other two."
From Cowper's "Table Talk":

"Ages elapsed ere Homer's lamp appeared,
And ages ere the Mantuan swan was heard.
To carry nature lengths unknown before,
To give a Milton birth, asked ages more.
Thus genius rose and set at ordered times,
And shot a dayspring into distant climes,
Ennobling every region that he chose;
He sunk in Greece, in Italy he rose,
And, tedious years of Gothic darkness past,
Emerged all splendor in our isle at last.
Thus lovely Halcyons dive into the main,
Then show far off their shining plumes again."
Ovid,
often alluded to in poetry by his other name of Naso,

was born in the year 43 B.C. He was educated for
public life and held some offices of considerable dignity,
but poetry was his delight, and he early resolved to de-
vote himself to it. He accordingly sought the society
:
OVID 309
of the contemporary poets, and was acquainted with

Horace and saw Virgil, though the latter died when
Ovid was yet too young and undistinguished to have
formed his acquaintance. Ovid spent an easy life at
Rome in the enjoyment of a competent income. He was
intimate with the family of Augustus, the emperor, and
it is supposed that some serious offence given to some
member of that family was the cause of an event which

reversed the poet's happy circumstances and clouded all
the latter portion of his life. At the age of fifty he
was banished from Rome, and ordered to betake him-
self to Tomi, on the borders of the Black Sea. Here,
among the barbarous people and in a severe climate, the
poet, who had been accustomed to all the pleasures of a
luxurious capital and the society of his most distin-
guished contemporaries, spent the last ten years of his
life, worn out with grief and anxiety. His only con-
solation in exile was to address his wife and absent
friends, and his letters were all poetical. Though these
poems (the "Trista" and "Letters from Pontus") have
no other topic than the poet's sorrows, his exquisite
taste and fruitful invention have redeemed them from
the charge of being tedious, and they are read with
pleasure and even with sympathy.
The two great works of Ovid are his "Metamor-
phoses" and his "Fasti." They are both mythological
poems, and from the former we have taken most of our
stories of Grecian and Roman mythology. A late writer
thus characterizes these poems
"The rich mythology of Greece furnished Ovid, as
it may still furnish the poet, the painter, and the sculp-
tor, with materials for his art. With exquisite taste,

simplicity, and pathos he has narrated the fabulous tra-
ditions of early ages, and given to them that appearance
of reality which only a master hand could impart. His
pictures of nature are striking and true; he selects with
care that which is appropriate; he rejects the superflu-
ous; and when he has completed his work, it is neither
defective nor redundant. The 'Metamorphoses' are read
with pleasure by youth, and are re-read in more ad-
vanced age with still greater delight. The poet ventured
;

to predict that his poem would survive him, and be read
wherever the Roman name was known."
The prediction above alluded to is contained in the
closing lines of the "Metamorphoses," of which we give
a literal translation below:
"And now I close my work, which not the ire
Of Jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire
Shall bring to nought. Come when it will that day
Which o'er the body, not the mind, has sway,
And snatch the remnant of my life away,
My better part above the stars shall soar,
And my renown endure forevermore.
Where'er the Roman arms and arts shall spread,
There by the people shall my book be read
And, if aught true in poet's visions be,
My name and fame have immortality."
CHAPTER XXXVI
MODERN MONSTERS —THE PHCENIX- —BASILISK—UNICORN
SALAMANDER
MODERN MONSTERS
There is a set of imaginary beings which seem to
have been the successors of the "Gorgons, Hydras, and
Chimeras dire" of the old superstitions, and, having no
connection with the false gods of Paganism, to have
continued to enjoy an existence in the popular belief
after Paganism was superseded by Christianity. They
are mentioned perhaps by the classical writers, but their
chief popularity and currency seem to have been in more
modern times. We seek our accounts of them not so
much in the poetry of the ancients as in the old natural
history books and narrations of travellers. The accounts
which we are about to give are taken chiefly from the
Penny Cyclopedia.
THE PHCENIX
Ovid tells the story of the Phcenix as follows "Most :
beings spring from other individuals; but there is a

certain kind which reproduces itself. The Assyrians
THE PHCENIX 3ir
call it the Phoenix. It does not live on fruit or flowers,

but on frankincense and odoriferous gums. When it
has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a nest in
the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm tree.
In this it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh,
and of these materials builds a pile on which it de-
posits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath
amidst odors. From the body of the parent bird, a
young Phoenix issues forth, destined to live as long a
life as its predecessor. When this has grown up and
gained sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree
(its own cradle and its parent's sepulchre), and carries
it to the city of Heliopolis in Egypt, and deposits it in
the temple of the Sun."
Such is the account given by a poet. Now let us see
that of a philosophic historian. Tacitus says, "In the
consulship of Paulus Fabius (A.D. 34) the miraculous
bird known to the world by the name of the Phoenix,
after disappearing for a series of ages, revisited Egypt.
It was attended in its flight by a group of various birds,
all attracted by the novelty, and gazing with wonder at
so beautiful an appearance." He then gives an account
of the bird, not varying materially from the preceding,
but adding some details. "The first care of the young
bird as soon as fledged, and able to trust to his wings,
is to perform the obsequies of his father. But this duty
is not undertaken rashly. He collects a quantity of
myrrh, and to try his strength makes frequent excur-
sions with a load on his back. When he has gained suf-
ficient confidence in his own vigor, he takes up the body
of his father and flies with it to the altar of the Sun,
where he leaves it to be consumed in flames of fra-
grance." Other writers add a few particulars. The
myrrh is compacted in the form of an egg, in which the
dead Phcenix is enclosed. From the mouldering flesh
of the dead bird a worm springs, and this worm, when
grown large, is transformed into a bird. Herodotus
describes the bird, though he says, "I have not seen it
myself, except in a picture. Part of his plumage is
gold-colored, and part crimson; and he is for the most
part very much like an eagle in outline and bulk."
The first writer who
disclaimed a belief in the ex-
istence of the Phoenix Sir Thomas Browne, in his
was
"Vulgar Errors," published in 1646. He was replied
to a few years later by Alexander Ross, who says, in
answer to the objection of the Phoenix so seldom making
his appearance, "His instinct teaches him to keep out
of the way of the tyrant of the creation, man, for if he
were to be got at, some wealthy glutton would surely
devour him, though there were no more in the world."
Dryden in one of his early poems has this allusion to

the Phoenix:
"So when the new-born Phoenix first is seen,

Her feathered subjects all adore their queen,
And while she makes her progress through the East,
From every grove her numerous train's increased;
Each poet of the air her glory sings,
And round him the pleased audience clap their wings."
Milton, in "Paradise Lost," Book V., compares the

angel Raphael descending to earth to a Phoenix:
. . Down thither, prone in flight

He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky
Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing,
Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan
Winnows the buxom air; till within soar
Of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems
A Phoenix, gazed by all; as that sole bird
When, to enshrine his relics in the sun's
Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies."
THE COCKATRICE, OR BASILISK

This animal was called the king of the serpents. In
confirmation of his royalty, he was said to be endowed
with a crest, or comb upon the head, constituting a
crown. He was supposed to be produced from the egg
of a cock hatched under toads or serpents. There were
several species of this animal. One species burned up
whatever they approached; a second were a kind of
wandering Medusa's heads, and their look caused an in-
stant horror which was immediately followed by death.
In Shakspeare's play of "Richard the Third," Lady
:
THE COCKATRICE, OR BASILISK 313
Anne, in answer to Richard's compliment on her eyes,

says, "Would they were basilisk's, to strike thee
dead!"
Thebasilisks were called kings of serpents because
all other serpents and snakes, behaving like good sub-
jects, and wisely not wishing to be burned up or struck
dead, fled the moment they heard the distant hiss of
their king, although they might be in full feed upon
the most delicious prey, leaving the sole enjoyment of
the banquet to the royal monster.
The Roman naturalist Pliny thus describes him: "He
does not impel his body, like other serpents, by a mul-
tiplied flexion, but advances lofty and upright. He
kills the shrubs, not only by contact, but by breathing
on them, and splits the rocks, such pov/er of evil is there
in him." It was formerly believed that if killed by a
spear from on horseback the power of the poison con-
ducted through the weapon killed not only the rider,
but the horse also. To this Lucan alludes in these
lines
"What though the Moor the basilisk hath slain,

And pinned him lifeless to the sandy plain.
Up through the spear the subtle venom flies,
The hand imbibes it, and the victor dies."
Such a prodigy was not likely to be passed over in

the legends of the saints. Accordingly we find it re-
corded that a certain holy man, going to a fountain in
the desert, suddenly beheld a basilisk. He immediately
raised his eyes to heaven, and with a pious appeal to
the Deity laid the monster dead at his feet.
These wonderful powers of the basilisk are attested
by a host of learned persons, such as Galen, Avicenna,
Scaliger, and others. Occasionally one would demur to
some part of the tale while he admitted the rest. Jon-
ston, a learned physician, sagely remarks, "I would
scarcely believe that it kills with its look, for who could
have seen it and lived to tell the story?" The worthy
sage was not aware that those who went to hunt the
basilisk of this sort took with them a mirror, which re-
flected back the deadly glare upon its author, and by a
:
kind of poetical justice slew the basilisk with his own

weapon.
But what was to attack this terrible and unapproach-
able monster? There is an old saying that "everything
—
has its enemy" and the cockatrice quailed before the
weasel. The basilisk might look daggers, the weasel
cared not, but advanced boldly to the conflict. When
bitten, the weasel retired for a moment to eat some
rue, which was the only plant the basilisks could not
wither, returned with renewed strength and soundness
to the charge, and never left the enemy till he was
stretched dead on the plain. The monster, too, as if
conscious of the irregular way in which he came into
the world, was supposed to have a great antipathy to a
cock; and well he might, for as soon as he heard the
cock crow he expired.
The basilisk was of some use after death. Thus we
read that its carcass was suspended in the temple of
Apollo, and in private houses, as a sovereign remedy
against spiders, and that it was also hung up in the
temple of Diana, for which reason no swallow ever
dared enter the sacred place.
The reader will, we apprehend, by this time have had
enough of absurdities, but still we can imagine his anxi-
ety to know what a cockatrice was like. The follow-
ing is from Aldrovandus, a celebrated naturalist of the
sixteenth century, whose work on natural history, in
thirteen folio volumes, contains with much that is valu-
able a large proportion of fables and inutilities. In
particular he is so ample on the subject of the cock and
the bull that from his practice, all rambling, gossiping
tales of doubtful credibility are called cock and bull
stories. Aldrovandus, however, deserves our respect and
esteem as the founder of a botanic garden, and as a
pioneer in the now prevalent custom of making scientific
collections for purposes of investigation and research.
Shelley, in his "Ode to Naples," full of the enthu-
siasm excited by the intelligence of the proclamation
of a Constitutional Government at Naples, in 1820, thus
uses an allusion to the basilisk
! !
THE UNICORN 315
"What though Cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme

Freedom and thee? a new Actaeon's error
—
Shall theirs have been, devoured by their own hounds
Be thou like the imperial basilisk,
Killing thy foe with unapparent wounds
Gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk,
Aghast she pass from the earth's disk.
—
Fear not, but gaze, for freemen mightier grow,
And slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe."
THE UNICORN
Pliny, the Roman naturalist, out of whose account
of the unicorn most of the modern unicorns have been
described and figured, records it as "a very ferocious
beast, similar in the rest of its body to a horse, with
the head of a deer, the feet of an elephant, the tail of
a boar, a deep, bellowing voice, and a single black horn,
two cubits in length, standing out in the middle of its
forehead." He adds that "it cannot be taken alive;"
and some such excuse may have been necessary in those
days for not producing the living animal upon the arena
of the amphitheatre.
The unicorn seems to have been a sad puzzle to the
hunters, who hardly knew how to come at so valuable
a piece of game. Some described the horn as movable
at the will of the animal, a kind of small sword, in short,
with which no hunter who was not exceedingly cunning
in fence could have a chance. Others maintained that
all the animal's strength lay in its horn, and that when
hard pressed in pursuit, it would throw itself from the
pinnacle of the highest rocks horn foremost, so as to
pitch upon it, and then quietly march off not a whit
the worse for its fall.
But it seems they found out how to circumvent the
poor unicorn at last. They discovered that it was a
great lover of purity and innocence, so they took the
field with a young virgin, who was placed in the un-
suspecting admirer's way. When the unicorn spied her,
he approached with all reverence, couched beside her,
and laying his head in her lap, fell asleep. The treach-
erous virgin then gave a signal, and the hunters made
in and captured the simple beast.
Modern zoologists, disgusted as they well may be

with such fables as these, disbelieve generally the ex-
istence of the unicorn. Yet there are animals bearing on
their heads a bony protuberance more or less like a horn,
which may have given rise to the story. The rhinoceros
horn, as it is called, is such a protuberance, though it
does not exceed a few inches in height, and is far from
agreeing with the descriptions of the horn of the uni-
corn. The nearest approach to a horn in the middle
of the forehead is exhibited in the bony protuberance
on the forehead of the giraffe; but this also is short
and blunt, and is not the only horn of the animal, but
a third horn, standing in front of the two others. In
fine, though it would be presumptuous to deny the ex-
istence of a one-horned quadruped other than the rhi-
noceros, it may be safely stated that the insertion of a
long and solid horn in the living forehead of a horse-
like or deer-like animal is as near an impossibility as
anything can be.
THE SALAMANDER
The following is from the "Life of Benvenuto Cel-
lini," an Italian artist of the sixteenth century, written
by himself "When I was about five years of age, my
:
father, happening to be in a little room in which they

had been washing, and where there was a good fire of
oak burning, looked into the flames and saw a little
animal resembling a lizard, which could live in the
hottest part of that element. Instantly perceiving what
it was, he called for my sister and me, and after he had
shown us the creature, he gave me a box on the ear. I

fell a-crying, while he, soothing me with caresses, spoke
these words 'My dear child, I do not give you that blow
:
for any fault you have committed, but that you may rec-
ollect that the little creature you see in the fire is a
salamander; such a one as never was beheld before to
my knowledge.' So saying he embraced me, and gave
me some money."
It seems unreasonable to doubt a story of which
Signor Cellini was both an eye and ear witness. Add
:
THE SALAMANDER 317
to which the authority of numerous sage philosophers,

at the head of whom are Aristotle and Pliny, affirms
this power of the salamander. According to them, the
animal not only resists fire, but extinguishes it, and when
he sees the flame charges it as an enemy which he well
knows how to vanquish.
That the skin of an animal which could resist the
action of fire should be considered proof against that
element is not to be wondered at. We accordingly find
that a cloth made of the skin of salamanders (for there
really is such an animal, a kind of lizard) was incom-
bustible, and very valuable for wrapping up such articles
as were too precious to be intrusted to any other en-
velopes. These fire-proof cloths were actually produced,
said to be made of salamander's wool, though the know-
ing ones detected that the substance of which they
were composed was asbestos, a mineral, which is in
fine filaments capable of being woven into a flexible
cloth.
The foundation of the above fables is supposed to be
the fact that the salamander really does secrete from
the pores of his body a milky juice, which when he is
irritated is produced in considerable quantity, and would
doubtless, for a few moments, defend the body from
fire. Then it is a hibernating animal, and in winter re-
tires to some hollow tree or other cavity, where it coils
itself up and remains in a torpid state till the spring
again calls it forth. It may therefore sometimes be
carried with the fuel to the fire, and wake up only time
enough to put forth all its faculties for its defence.
Its viscous juice would do good service, and all who
profess to have seen it, acknowledge that it got out of
the fire as fast as its legs could carry it; indeed, too
fast for them ever to make prize of one, except in one
instance, and in that one the animal's feet and some
parts of its body were badly burned.
Dr. Young, in the "Night Thoughts," with more

quaintness than good taste, compares the sceptic who
can remain unmoved in the contemplation of the starry
heavens to a salamander unwarmed in the fire
—
31? STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

"An undevout astronomer is mad!
"O, what a genius must inform the skies!

And is Lorenzo's salamander-heart
Cold and untouched amid these sacred fires?"
CHAPTER XXXVII
EASTERN MYTHOLOGY —ZOROASTER— HINDU MYTHOLOGY
— CASTES—BUDDHA—GRAND LAMA
ZOROASTER
Our knowledge of the religion of the ancient Persians
is principally derived from the Zendavesta, or sacred
books of that people. Zoroaster was the founder of
their religion, or rather the reformer of the religion
which preceded him. The time when he lived is doubt-
ful, but it is certain that his system became the dom-
inant religion of Western Asia from the time of Cyrus
(550 B.C.) to the conquest of Persia by Alexander the
Great. Under the Macedonian monarchy the doctrines
of Zoroaster appear to have been considerably cor-
rupted by the introduction of foreign opinions, but they
afterwards recovered their ascendency.
Zoroaster taught the existence of a supreme being,
who created two other mighty beings and imparted to
them as much of his own nature as seemed good to him.
Of these, Ormuzd (called by the Greeks Oromasdes)
remained faithful to his creator, and was regarded as
the source of all good, while Ahriman (Arimanes)
rebelled, and became the author of all evil upon the
earth. Ormuzd created man and supplied him with all
the materials of happiness; but Ahriman marred this
happiness by introducing evil into the world, and creat-
ing savage beasts and poisonous reptiles and plants. In
consequence of this, evil and good are now mingled to-
gether in every part of the world, and the followers of
—
good and evil the adherents of Ormuzd and Ahriman
carry on incessant war. But this state of things will not
: —
ZOROASTER 319
last forever. The time will come when the adherents of

Ormuzd everywhere be victorious, and Ahriman
shall
and his followers be consigned to darkness forever.
The religious rites of the ancient Persians were ex-
ceedingly simple. They used neither temples, altars, nor
statues, and performed their sacrifices on the tops of
mountains. They adored fire, light, and the sun as em-
blems of Ormuzd, the source of all light and purity, but
did not regard them as independent deities. The re-
ligious rites and ceremonies were regulated by the
priests, who were called Magi. The learning of the
Magi was connected with astrology and enchantment,
in which they were so celebrated that their name was
applied to all orders of magicians and enchanters.
Wordsworth thus alludes to the worship of the Per-
sians :
". . . —
the Persian, zealous to reject
Altar and Image, and the inclusive walls
And roofs of temples built by human hands,
The loftiest heights ascending, from their tops,
With myrtle-wreathed Tiara on his brows,
Presented sacrifice to Moon and Stars,
And to the Winds and mother Elements,
And the whole circle of the Heavens, for him
A sensitive existence and a God."
—
Excursion, Book IV.
In "Childe Harold" Byron speaks thus of the Persian

worship
"Not vainly did the early Persian make
His altar the high places and the peak
Of earth-o'er-gazing mountains, and thus take
A fit and unwalled temple, there to seek
The Spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak,
Upreared of human hands. Come and compare
Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek,
With Nature's realms of worship, earth and air,
Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer."
Ill, 91.
The religion of Zoroaster continued to flourish even

after the introduction of Christianity, and in the third
century was the dominant faith of the East, till the rise
of the Mahometan power and the conquest of Persia by
32Q STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES
the Arabs in the seventh century, who compelled the
greater number of the Persians to renounce their ancient
faith. Those who refused to abandon the religion of
their ancestors fled to the deserts of Kerman and to
Hindustan, where they still exist under the name of
Parsees, a name derived from Pars, the ancient name of
Persia. The Arabs call them Guebers, from an Arabic
word signifying unbelievers. At Bombay the Parsees
are at this day a very active, intelligent, and wealthy
class. For purity of life, honesty, and conciliatory man-
ners, they are favorably distinguished. They have
numerous temples to Fire, which they adore as the sym-
bol of the divinity.
The Persian religion makes the subject of the finest
tale in Moore's "Lalla Rookh," the "Fire Worshippers."
The Gueber chief says,
"Yes I am of that impious race,
!
Those slaves of Fire, that morn and even

Hail their creator's dwelling-place
Among the living lights of heaven;
Yes! I am of that outcast crew
To Iran and to vengeance true,
Who curse the hour your Arabs came
To desecrate our shrines of flame,
And swear before God's burning eye,
To break our country's chains or die."
HINDU MYTHOLOGY
The religion of the Hindus is professedly founded on
the Vedas. To these books of their scripture they at-
tach the greatest sanctity, and state that Brahma him-
self composed them at the creation. But the present
arrangement of the Vedas is attributed to the sage
Vyasa, about five thousand years ago.
The Vedas undoubtedly teach the belief of one su-
preme God. The name of this deity is Brahma. His
attributes are represented by the three personified powers
of creation, preservation, and destruction, which under
the respective names of Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva form
the Trimurti or triad of principal Hindu gods. Of the
inferior gods the most important are: 1. Indra, the god
VISHNU 321
heaven, of thunder, lightning, storm, and rain; 2.

Agni, the god of fire; 3. Yama, the god of the infernal
regions 4. Surya, the god of the sun.
;
Brahma is the creator of the universe, and the source

from which all the individual deities have sprung, and
into which all will ultimately be absorbed. "As milk
changes to curd, and water to ice, so is Brahma vari-
ously transformed and diversified, without aid of exterior
means of any sort." The human soul, according to the
Vedas, is a portion of the supreme ruler, as a spark is
of the fire.
VISHNU
Vishnu occupies the second place in the triad of the
Hindus, and isthe personification of the preserving
principle. To protect the world in various epochs of
danger, Vishnu descended to the earth in different incar-
nations, or bodily forms, which descents are called Ava-
tars. They are very numerous, but ten are more partic-
ularly specified. The first Avatar was as Matsya, the
Fish, under which form Vishnu preserved Manu, the
ancestor of the human race, during a universal deluge.
The second Avatar was in the form of a Tortoise, which
form he assumed to support the earth when the gods
were churning the sea for the beverage of immortality,
Amrita.
We may omit the other Avatars, which were of the
same general character, that is, interpositions to protect
the right or to punish wrong-doers, and come to the
ninth, which is the most celebrated of the Avatars of
Vishnu, in which he appeared in the human form of
Krishna, an invincible warrior, who by his exploits re-
lieved the earth from the tyrants who oppressed it.
Buddha is by the followers of the Brahmanical religion
regarded as a delusive incarnation of Vishnu, assumed
by him in order to induce the Asuras, opponents of the
gods, to abandon the sacred ordinances of the Vedas, by
which means they lost their strength and supremacy.
Kalki is the name of the tenth Avatar, in which
'
Vishnu will appear at the end of the present age of the

world to destroy all vice and wickedness, and to restore
mankind to virtue and purity.
SIVA
Siva is the third person of the Hindu triad. He is the

personification of the destroying principle. Though the
third name, he is, in respect to the number of his wor-
shippers and the extension of his worship, before either
of the others. In the Puranas (the scriptures of the
modern Hindu religion) no allusion is made to the orig-
inal power of this god as a destroyer; that power not
being to be called into exercise till after the expiration of
twelve millions of years, or when the universe will come
to an end; and Mahadeva (another name for Siva) is
rather the representative of regeneration than of de-
struction.
The worshippers of Vishnu and Siva form two sects,

each of which proclaims the superiority of its favorite
êity, denying the claims of the other, and Brahma, the
creator, having finished his work, seems to be regarded
as no longer active, and has now only one temple in
India, while Mahadeva and Vishnu have many. The
worshippers of Vishnu are generally distinguished by a
greater tenderness for life, and consequent abstinence
from animal food, and a worship less cruel than that of
the followers of Siva.
JUGGERNAUT
Whether the worshippers of Juggernaut are to be
reckoned among the followers of Vishnu or Siva, our
authorities differ. The temple stands near the shore,
about three hundred miles south-west of Calcutta. The
idol is a carved block of wood, with a hideous face,
painted black, and a distended blood-red mouth. On
festival days the throne of the image is placed on a
tower sixty feet high, moving on wheels. Six long ropes
are attached to the tower, by which the people draw it
along. The priests and their attendants stand round the
CASTES 323
throne on the tower, and occasionally turn to the wor-

shippers with songs and gestures. While the tower
moves along numbers of the devout worshippers throw
themselves on the ground, in order to be crushed by the
wheels, and the multitude shout in approbation of the
act, as a pleasing sacrifice to the idol. Every year, par-
ticularly at two great festivals in March and July, pil-
grims flock in crowds to the temple. Not less than sev-
enty or eighty thousand people are said to visit the place
on these occasions, when all castes eat together.
CASTES
The division of the Hindus into classes or castes,

with fixed occupations, existed from the earliest times.
It is supposed by some to have been founded upon con-
quest, the first three castes being composed of a foreign
race, who subdued the natives of the country and re-
duced them to an inferior caste. Others trace it to the
fondness of perpetuating, by descent from father to son,
certain offices or occupations.
The Hindu tradition gives the following account of
the origin of the various castes At the creation Brahma
:
resolved to give the earth inhabitants who should be

direct from his own body.
emanations Accordingly
from mouth came forth the eldest born, Brahma (the
his
priest), to whom he confided the four Vedas; from
his right arm issued Shatriya (the warrior), and from
his left, the warrior's wife. His thighs produced
Vaissyas, male and female (agriculturists and traders),
and lastly from his feet sprang Sudras (mechanics and
laborers).
The four sons of Brahma, so significantly brought
into the world, became the fathers of the human race,
and heads of their respective castes. They were com-
manded to regard the four Vedas as containing all the
rules of their faith, and all that was necessary to guide
them in their religious ceremonies. They were also
commanded to take rank in the order of their birth, the
Brahmans uppermost, as having sprung from the head
of Brahma.
A strong line of demarcation is drawn between the

first three castes and the Sudras. The former are al-
lowed to receive instruction from the Vedas, which is
not permitted to the Sudras. The Brahmans possess
the privilege of teaching the Vedas, and were in former
times in exclusive possession of all knowledge. Though
the sovereign of the country was chosen from the Sha-
triya class, also called Rajputs, the Brahmans possessed
the real power, and were the royal counsellors, the
judges and magistrates of the country; their persons
and property were inviolable; and though they commit-
ted the greatest crimes, they could only be banished
from the kingdom. They were to be treated by sov-
ereigns with the greatest respect, for "a Brahman,
whether learned or ignorant, is a powerful divinity."
When the Brahman arrives at years of maturity it be-
comes his duty to marry. He ought to be supported
by the contributions of the rich, and not to be obliged to
gain his subsistence by any laborious or productive occu-
pation. But as all the Brahmans could not be main-
tained by the working classes of the community, it was
found necessary to allow them to engage in productive
employments.
We need say little of the two intermediate classes,
whose rank and privileges may be readily inferred from
their occupations. The Sudras or fourth class are
bound to servile attendance on the higher classes, espe-
cially the Brahmans, but they may follow mechanical
occupations and practical arts, as painting and writing,
or become traders or husbandmen. Consequently they
sometimes grow rich, and it will also sometimes happen
that Brahmans become poor. That fact works its usual
consequence, and rich Sudras sometimes employ poor
Brahmans menial occupations.
in
There is another class lower even than the Sudras,
for it is not one of the original pure classes, but springs
from an unauthorized union of individuals of different
castes. These are the Pariahs, who are employed in the
lowest services and treated with the utmost severity.
They are compelled to do what no one else can do with-
out pollution. They are not only considered unclean
;
BUDDHA 325
themselves, but they render unclean everything they

touch. They are deprived of all civil rights, and stig-
matized by particular laws regulating their mode of life,
their houses, and their furniture. They are not allowed
to visit the pagodas or temples of the other castes, but
have their own pagodas and religious exercises. They
are not suffered to enter the houses of the other castes
if it is done incautiously or from necessity, the place
must be purified by religious ceremonies. They must
not appear at public markets, and are confined to the
use of particular wells, which they are obliged to sur-
round with bones of animals, to warn others against
using them. They dwell in miserable hovels, distant
from cities and villages, and are under no restrictions in
regard to food, which last is not a privilege, but a mark
of ignominy, as if they were so degraded that nothing
could pollute them. The three higher castes are prohib-
ited entirely the use of flesh. The fourth is allowed to
use all kinds except beef, but only the lowest caste is al-
lowed every kind of food without restriction.
BUDDHA
Buddha, whom the Vedas represent as a delusive in-
carnation of Vishnu, is said by his followers to have
been a mortal sage, whose name was Gautama, called
also by the complimentary epithets of Sakyasinha, the
Lion, and Buddha, the Sage.
By a comparison of the various epochs assigned to
his birth, it is inferred that he lived about one thousand
years before Christ.
He was the son of a king; and when in conformity
to the usage of the country he was, a few days after
his birth, presented before the altar of a deity, the image
is said to have inclined its head as a presage of the
future greatness of the new-born prophet. The child
soon developed faculties of the first order, and became
equally distinguished by the uncommon beauty of his
person. No sooner had he grown to years of maturity
than he began to reflect deeply on the depravity and
misery of mankind, and he conceived the idea of retiring
from society and devoting himself to meditation. His
father in vain opposed this design. Buddha escaped the
vigilance of his guards, and having found a secure re-
treat, lived for six years undisturbed in his devout con-
templations. At the expiration of that period he came
forward at Benares as a religious teacher. At first some
who heard him doubted of the soundness of his mind;
but his doctrines soon gained credit, and were propa-
gated so rapidly that Buddha himself lived to see them
spread all over India. He died at the age of eighty
years.
The Buddhists reject entirely the authority of the
Vedas, and the religious observances prescribed in them
and kept by the Hindus. They also reject the distinc-
tion of castes, and prohibit all bloody sacrifices, and al-
low animal food. Their priests are chosen from all
classes; they are expected to procure their maintenance
by perambulation and begging, and among other things
it is their duty to endeavor to turn to some use things
thrown aside as useless by others, and to discover the

medicinal power of plants. But in Ceylon three orders
of priests are recognized those of the highest order are
;
usually men of high birth and learning, and are

supported at the principal temples, most of which have
been richly endowed by the former monarchs of the
country.
For several centuries after the appearance of Buddha,
his sect seems to have been tolerated by the Brahmans,
and Buddhism appears to have penetrated the peninsula
of Hindustan in every direction, and to have been car-
ried to Ceylon, and to the eastern peninsula. But after-
wards it had to endure in India a long-continued persecu-
tion, which ultimately had the effect of entirely abolish-
ing it in the country where it had originated, but to
scatter it widely over adjacent countries. Buddhism ap-
pears to have been introduced into China about the year
65 of our era. From China it was subsequently extended
to Corea, Japan, and Java.
PRESTER JOHN 327,
THE GRAND LAMA

It is a doctrine alike of the Brahminical Hindus and
of the Buddhist sect that the confinement of the human
soul, an emanation of the divine spirit, in a human
body, is a state of misery, and the consequence of
frailties and sins committed during former existences.
But they hold that some few individuals have appeared
on this earth from time to time, not under the neces-
sity of terrestrial existence, but who voluntarily de-
scended to the earth to promote the welfare of man-
kind. These individuals have gradually assumed the char-
acter of reappearances of Buddha himself., in which
capacity the line is continued till the present day, in the
several Lamas of Thibet, China, and other countries
where Buddhism prevails. In consequence of the vic-
tories of Gengis Khan and his successors, the Lama re-
siding in Thibet was raised to the dignity of chief pon-
tiff of the sect. Aseparate province was assigned to
him as his own and besides his spiritual dig-
territory,
nity he became to a limited extent a temporal monarch.
He is styled the Dalai Lama.
The first Christian missionaries who proceeded to
Thibet were surprised to find there in the heart of Asia
a pontifical court and several other ecclesiastical institu-
tions resembling those of the Roman Catholic church.
They found convents for priests and nuns; also pro-
cessions and forms of religious worship, attended with
much pomp and splendor; and many were induced by
these similarities to consider Lamaism as a sort of de-
generated Christianity. It is not improbable that the
Lamas derived some of these practices from the Nesto-
rian Christians, who were settled in Tartary when
Buddhism was introduced into Thibet.
PRESTER JOHN
An early account, communicated probably by trav-
elling merchants, of a Lama or spiritual chief among
the Tartars, seems to have occasioned in Europe the re-
port of a Presbyter or Prester John, a Christian pontiff
—
resident in Upper Asia. The Pope sent a mission in

search of him, as did also Louis IX. of France, some
years later, but both missions were unsuccessful, though
the small communities of Nestorian Christians, which
they did find, served to keep up the belief in Europe that
such a personage did exist somewhere in the East. At
last in the fifteenth century, a Portuguese traveller,
Pedro Covilham, happening to hear that there was a
Christian prince in the country of the Abessines (Abys-
sinia), not far from the Red Sea, concluded that this
must be the true Prester John. He accordingly went
thither, and penetrated to the court of the king, whom
he calls Negus. Milton alludes to him in "Paradise
Lost," Book XI., where, describing Adam's vision of
his descendants in their various nations and cities, scat-
tered over the face of the earth, he says,
". .Nor did his eyes not ken

.
Th' empire of Negus, to his utmost port,

Ercoco, and the less maritime kings,
Mombaza and Quiloa and Melind."
CHAPTER XXXVIII
NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY —VALHALLA THE VALKYRIOR
NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY
The stories which have engaged our attention thus
far relate to the mythology of southern regions. But
there is another branch of ancient superstitions which
ought not to be entirely overlooked, especially as it be-
longs to the nations from which we, through our
English ancestors, derive our origin. It is that of the
northern nations, called Scandinavians, who inhabited
the countries now known as Sweden, Denmark, Norway,
and Iceland. These mythological records are con-
NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY 329
tained in two collections called the Eddas, of which the

oldest is in poetry and dates back to the year 1056, the
more modern or prose Edda being of the date of 1640.
According to the Eddas there was once no heaven
above nor earth beneath, but only a bottomless deep,
and a world of mist in which flowed a fountain. Twelve
rivers issued from this fountain, and when they had
flowed far from their source, they froze into ice, and one
layer accumulating over another, the great deep was filled
up.
Southward from the world of mist was the world of
light. From this flowed a warm wind upon the ice and
melted it. The vapors rose in the air and formed clouds,
from which sprang Ymir, the Frost giant and his pro-
geny, and the cow Audhumbla, whose milk afforded
nourishment and food to the giant. The cow got nour-
ishment by licking the hoar frost and salt from the
ice. While she was one day licking the salt stones
there appeared at first the hair of a man, on the second
day the whole head, and on the third the entire form
endowed with beauty, agility, and power. This new be-
ing was a god, from whom and his wife, a daughter of
the giant race, sprang the three brothers Odin, Vili, and
Ve. They slew the giant Ymir, and out of his body
formed the earth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the
mountains, of his hair the trees, of his skull the heavens,
and of his brain clouds, charged with hail and snow. Of
Ymir's eyebrows the gods formed Midgard (mid earth),
destined to become the abode of man.
Odin then regulated the periods of day and night and
the seasons by placing in the heavens the sun and moon,
and appointing to them their respective courses. As
soon as the sun began to shed its rays upon the earth,
it caused the vegetable world to bud and sprout.
Shortly after the gods had created the world they
walked by the side of the sea, pleased with their new
work, but found that it was still incomplete, for it was
without human beings. They therefore took an ash tree
and made a man out of it, and they made a woman out
of an elder, and called the man Aske and the woman
Embla. Odin then gave them life and soul, Vili reason
and motion, and Ve bestowed upon them the senses, ex-
pressive features, and speech. Midgard was then given
them as their residence, and they became the progenitors
of the human race.
The mighty ash tree Ygdrasill was supposed to sup-
port the whole universe. It sprang from the body of
Ymir, and had three immense roots, extending one into
Asgard (the dwelling of the gods), the other into Jotun-
heim (the abode of the giants), and the third to Niffle-
heim (the regions of darkness and cold). By the side
of each of these roots is a spring, from which it is
watered. The root that extends into Asgard is care-
fully tended by the three Norns, goddesses, who are
regarded as the dispensers of fate. They are Urdur
(the past), Verdandi (the present), Skuld (the future).
The spring at the Jotunheim side is Ymir's well, in
which wisdom and wit lie hidden, but that of Niffleheim
feeds the adder Nidhogge (darkness), which perpetu-
ally gnaws at the root. Four harts run across the
branches of the tree and bite the buds; they represent
the four winds. Under the tree lies Ymir, and when he
tries to shake off its weight the earth quakes.
Asgard is the name of the abode of the gods, access
to which is only gained by crossing the bridge Bifrost
(the rainbow). Asgard consists of golden and silver
palaces, the dwellings of the gods, but the most beautiful
of these is Valhalla, the residence of Odin. When
seated on his throne he overlooks all heaven and earth.
Upon his shoulders are the ravens Hugin and Munin,
who fly every day over the whole world, and on their
return report to him all they have seen and heard. At
his feet lie his two wolves, Geri and Freki, to whom
Odin gives all the meat that is set before him, for he
himself stands in no need of food. Mead is for him
both food and drink. He invented the Runic characters,
and it is the business of the Norns to engrave the runes
of fate upon a metal shield. From Odin's name, spelt
Woden, as it sometimes is, came Wednesday, the name
of the fourth day of the week.
Odin is frequently called Alfadur (All-father), but
this name is sometimes used in a way that shows that
OF THOR AND THE OTHER GODS 331
the Scandinavians had an idea of a deity superior to

Odin, uncreated and eternal.
OF THE JOYS OF VALHALLA

Valhalla is the great hall of Odin, wherein he feasts
with his chosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely
in battle, for all who die a peaceful death are excluded.
The flesh of the boar Schrimnir is served up to them,
and is abundant for all. For although this boar is cooked
every morning, he becomes whole again every night.
For drink the heroes are supplied abundantly with mead
from the she-goat Heidrum. When the heroes are not
feasting they amuse themselves with fighting. Every
day they ride out into the court or field and fight until
they cut each other in pieces. This is their pastime;
but when meal time comes they recover from their
wounds and return to feast in Valhalla.
THE VALKYRIE
The Valkyrie are warlike virgins, mounted upon
horses and armed with helmets and spears. Odin, who
is desirous to collect a great many heroes in Valhalla
to be able to meet the giants in a day when the fina
contest must come, sends down to every battle-field t£»
make choice of those who shall be slain. The Valky-
rie are his messengers, and their name means "Choosers
of the slain." When they ride forth on their errand,
their armor sheds a strange flickering light, which flashes
up over the northern skies, making what men call the
"Aurora Borealis," or "Northern Lights." 1
OF THOR AND THE OTHER GODS

Thor, the thunderer, Odin's eldest son, is the strong-
est of gods and men, and possesses three very pre-
cious things. The first is a hammer, which both the
Frost and the Mountain giants know to their cost, when
they see it hurled against them in the air, for it has split
many a skull of their fathers and kindred. When
1 Gray's ode, "The Fatal Sisters," is founded on this superstition.
thrown, it returns to his hand of its own accord. The
second rare thing he possesses is called the belt of
strength. When he girds it about him his divine might
is doubled. The third, also very precious, is his iron
gloves, which he puts on whenever he would use his
mallet efficiently. From Thor's name is derived our
word Thursday.
Frey is one of the most celebrated of the gods. He
presides over rain and sunshine and all the fruits of the
earth. His sister Freya is the most propitious of the
goddesses. She loves music, spring, and flowers, and is
particularly fond of the Elves (fairies). She is very
fond of love ditties, and all lovers would do well to
invoke her.
Bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the
deeds of warriors. His wife, Iduna, keeps in a box
the apples which the gods, when they feel old age ap-
proaching, have only to taste of to become young again.
Heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is there-
fore placed on the borders of heaven to prevent the
giants from forcing their way over the bridge Bifrost
(the rainbow). He requires less sleep than a bird, and
sees by night as well as by day a hundred miles around
him. So acute is his ear that no sound escapes him, for
he can even hear the grass grow and the wool on a
sheep's back.
OF LOKI AND HIS PROGENY

There is another deity who is described as the calum-
niator of the gods and the contriver of all fraud and
mischief. His name is Loki. He is handsome and well
made, but of a very fickle mood and most evil disposi-
tion. He is of the giant race, but forced himself into
the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure in
bringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them
out of the danger by his cunning, wit, and skill. Loki
has three children. The first is the wolf Fenris, the
second the Midgard serpent, the third Hela (Death).
The gods were not ignorant that these monsters were
growing up, and that they would one day bring much
HOW THOR PAID THE GIANT'S WAGES 333
evil upon gods and men. So Odin deemed it advis-

able to send one to bring them to him. When they came
he threw the serpent into that deep ocean by which the
earth is surrounded. But the monster had grown to
such an enormous size that holding his tail in his mouth
he encircles the whole earth. Hela he cast into Niffle-
heim, and gave her power over nine worlds or regions,
into which she distributes those who are sent to her;
that is, all who die of sickness or old age. Her hall is
called Elvidner. Hunger is her table, Starvation her
knife, Delay her man, Slowness her maid, Precipice her
threshold, Care her bed, and Burning Anguish forms the
hangings of the apartments. She may easily be recog-
nized, for her body is half flesh color and half blue, and
she has a dreadfully stern and forbidding countenance.
The wolf Fenris gave the gods a great deal of trou-
ble before they succeeded in chaining him. He broke
the strongest fetters as if they were made of cobwebs.
Finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountain spirits,
who made for them the chain called Gleipnir. It is
fashioned of six things, viz., the noise made by the
footfall of a cat, the beards of women, the roots of
stones, the breath of fishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of
bears, and the spittle of birds. When finished it was
as smooth and soft as a silken string. But when the
gods asked the wolf to suffer himself to be bound with
this apparently slight ribbon, he suspected their design,
fearing that it was made by enchantment. He there-
fore only consented to be bound with it upon condition
that one of the gods put his hand in his (Fenris's)
mouth as a pledge that the band was to be removed
again. Tyr (the god of battles) alone had courage
enough to do this. But when the wolf found that he
could not break his fetters, and that the gods would not
release him, he bit off Tyr's hand, and he has ever since
remained one-handed.
HOW THOR PAID THE MOUNTAIN GIANT HIS WAGES

Once on a time, when the gods were constructing
their abodes and had already finished Midgard and Val-
came and offered to build them
halla, a certain artificer
a residence so well fortified that they should be per-
fectly safe from the incursions of the Frost giants and
the giants of the mountains. But he demanded for his
reward the goddess Freya, together with the sun and
moon. The gods yielded to his terms, provided he
would finish the whole work himself without any one's
assistance, and all within the space of one winter. But
if anything remained unfinished on the first day of sum-
mer he should forfeit the recompense agreed on. On
being told these terms the artificer stipulated that he
should be allowed the use of his horse Svadilfari, and
this by the advice of Loki was granted to him. He ac-
cordingly set to work on the first day of winter, and
during the night let his horse draw stone for the build-
ing. The enormous size of the stones struck the gods
with astonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse
did one-half more of the toilsome work than his master.
Their bargain, however, had been concluded, and con-
firmed by solemn oaths, for without these precautions
a giant would not have thought himself safe among the
gods, especially when Thor should return from an ex-
pedition he had then undertaken against the evil demons.
As the winter drew to a close, the building was far
advanced, and the bulwarks were sufficiently high and
massive to render the place impregnable. In short, when
it wanted but three days to summer, the only part that
remained to be finished was the gateway. Then sat the

gods on their seats of justice and entered into consul-
tation, inquiring of one another who among them could
have advised to give Freya away, or to plunge the
heavens in darkness by permitting the giant to carry
away the sun and the moon.
They all agreed that no one but Loki, the author of
so many evil deeds, could have given such bad counsel,
and that he should be put to a cruel death if he did not
contrive some way to prevent the artificer from com-
pleting his task and obtaining the stipulated recom-
pense. They proceeded to lay hands on Loki, who in
his fright promised upon oath that, let it cost him what
it would, he would so manage matters that the man
THE RECOVERY OF THE HAMMER 335
should lose his reward. That very night when the man
went with Svadilfari for building stone, a mare suddenly
ran out of a forest and began to neigh. The horse
thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the
forest, which obliged the man also to run after his
horse, and thus between one and another the whole night
was lost, so that at dawn the work had not made the
usual progress. The man, seeing that he must fail of
completing his task, resumed his own gigantic stature,
and the gods now clearly perceived that it was in reality
a mountain giant who had come amongst them. Feeling
no longer bound by their oaths, they called on Thor,
who immediately ran to their assistance, and lifting up
his mallet, paid the workman his wages, not with the
sun and moon, and not even by sending him back to
Jotunheim, for with the first blow he shattered the
giant's skull to pieces and hurled him headlong into
Nifileheim.
THE RECOVERY OF THE HAMMER

Once upon a time it happened that Trior's hammer
fellinto the possession of the giant Thrym, who buried
it eight fathoms deep under the rocks of Jotunheim.
Thor sent Loki to negotiate with Thrym, but he could

only prevail so far as to get the giant's promise to re-
store the weapon if Freya would consent to be his bride.
Loki returned and reported the result of his mission,
but the goddess of love was quite horrified at the idea
of bestowing her charms on the king of the Frost giants.
In this emergency Loki persuaded Thor to dress himself
in Freya's clothes and accompany him to Jotunheim.
Thrym received his veiled bride with due courtesy, but
was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her supper
eight salmons and a full grown ox, besides other deli-
cacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of
mead. Loki, however, assured him that she had not
tasted anything for eight long nights, so great was her
desire to see her lover, the renowned ruler of Jotunheim.
Thrym had at length the curiosity to peep under his
bride's veil, but started back in affright and demanded
why Freya's eyeballs glistened -with fire. Loki repeated
the same excuse and the giant was satisfied. He or-
dered the hammer to be brought in and laid on the
maiden's lap. Thereupon Thor threw off his disguise,
grasped his redoubted weapon, and slaughtered Thrym
and all his followers.
Frey also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword
which would of itself spread a field with carnage when-
ever the owner desired it. Frey parted with this sword,
but was less fortunate than Thor and never recovered
it. It happened in this way Frey once mounted Odin's
:
throne, from whence one can see over the whole uni-
verse, and looking round saw far off in the giant's king-
dom a beautiful maid, at the sight of whom he was
struck with sudden sadness, insomuch that from that
moment he could neither sleep, nor drink, nor speak.
At last Skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret from him,
and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if
he would give him his sword as a reward. Frey con-
sented and gave him the sword, and Skirnir set off on
his journey and obtained the maiden's promise that with-
in nine nights she would come to a certain place and
there wed Frey. Skirnir having reported the success
of his errand, Frey exclaimed:
"Long is one night,

Long are two nights,
But how shall I hold out three?
Shorter hath seemed
A month to me oft
Than of this longing time the half."
So Frey obtained Gerda, the most beautiful of all

women, for his wife, but he lost his sword.
This story, entitled "Skirnir For," and the one im-

mediately preceding it, "Thrym's Quida," will be found
poetically told in Longfellow's "Poets and Poetry of
Europe."
THOR'S VISIT TO JOTUNHEIM 337
CHAPTER XXXIX
THOR'S VISIT TO JOTUNHEIM
THOR'S VISIT TO JOTUNHEIM, THE GIANT'S COUNTRY
One day the god Thor, with his servant Thialfi, and
accompanied by Loki, set out on a journey to the giant's
country. Thialfi was of all men the swiftest of foot.
He bore Thor's wallet, containing their provisions.
When night came on they found themselves in an im-
mense forest, and searched on all sides for a place where
they might pass the night, and at last came to a very
large hall, with an entrance that took the whole breadth
of one end of the building. Here they lay down to
sleep, but towards midnight were alarmed by an earth-
quake which shook the whole edifice. Thor, rising up,
called on his companions to seek with him a place of
safety. On the right they found an adjoining chamber,
into which the others entered, but Thor remained at
the doorway with his mallet in his hand, prepared to
defend himself, whatever might happen. A terrible
groaning was heard during the night, and at dawn of
day Thor went out and found lying near him a huge
giant, who slept and snored in the way that had alarmed
them so. It is said that for once Thor was afraid to
use his mallet, and as the giant soon waked up, Thor
contented himself with simply asking his name.
"My name is Skrymir," said the giant, "but I need
not ask thy name, for I know that thou art the god
Thor. But what has become of my glove?" Thor then
perceived that what they had taken overnight for a
hall was the giant's glove, and the chamber where his
two companions had sought refuge was the thumb.
Skrymir then proposed that they should travel in com-
pany, and Thor consenting, they sat down to eat their
breakfast, and when they had done, Skrymir packed all
the provisions into one wallet, threw it over his shoulder,
and strode on before them, taking such tremendous
strides that they were hard put to it to keep up with

him. So they travelled the whole day, and at dusk
Skrymir chose a place for them to pass the night in
under a large oak tree. Skrymir then told them he
would lie down to sleep. "But take ye the wallet," he
added, "and prepare your supper."
Skrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly;
but when Thor tried to open the wallet, he found the
giant had tied it up so tight he could not untie a single
knot. At last Thor became wroth, and grasping his
mallet with both hands he struck a furious blow on the
giant's head. Skrymir, awakening, merely asked whether
a leaf had not fallen on his head, and whether they
had supped and were ready to go to sleep. Thor an-
swered that they were just going to sleep, and so saying
went and laid himself down under another tree. But
sleep came not that night to Thor, and when Skrymir
snored again so loud that the forest reechoed with the
noise, he arose, and grasping his mallet launched it
with such force at the giant's skull that it made a deep
dint in it. Skrymir, awakening, cried out, "What's the
matter? Are there any birds perched on this tree? I
felt some moss from the branches fall on my head.
How fares it with thee, Thor?" But Thor went away
hastily, saying that he had just then awoke, and that as
it was only midnight, there was still time for sleep.
He, however, resolved that if he had an opportunity of
striking a third blow, it should settle all matters between
them. A little before daybreak he perceived that Skry-
mir was again fast asleep, and again grasping his mal-
let, he dashed it with such violence that it forced its
way into the giant's skull up to the handle. But Skrymir
sat up, and stroking his cheek said, "An acorn fell on
my head. What! Art thou awake, Thor? Methinks
it is time for us to get up and dress ourselves but you
;
have not now a long way before you to the city called
Utgard. I have heard you whispering to one another
that I am not a man of small dimensions; but if you
come to Utgard you will see there many men much
taller than I. Wherefore, I advise you, when you come
there, not to make too much of yourselves, for the
followers of Utgard-Loki will not brook the boasting

of such little fellows as you are. You must take the
road that leads eastward, mine lies northward, so we
must part here."
Hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders and
turned away from them into the forest, and Thor had
no wish to stop him or to ask for any more of his
company.
Thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and
towards noon descried a city standing in the middle of
a plain. It was so lofty that they were obliged to bend
their necks quite back on their shoulders in order to
see to the top of it. On arriving they entered the city,
and seeing a large palace before them with the door
wide open, they went in, and found a number of men
of prodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall.
Going further, they came before the king, Utgard-Loki,
whom they saluted with great respect. The king, re-
garding them with a scornful smile, said, "If I do not
mistake me, that stripling yonder must be the god Thor."
Then addressing himself to Thor, he said, "Perhaps
thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be. What
are the feats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves
skilled in, for no one is permitted to remain here who
does not, in some feat or other, excel all other men?"
"The feat that I know," said Loki, "is to eat quicker
than any one else, and in this I am ready to give a
proof against any one here who may choose to com-
pete with me."
"That will indeed be a feat," said Utgard-Loki, "if
thou performest what thou promisest, and it shall be
tried forthwith."
He then ordered one of his men who was sitting at
the farther end of the bench, and whose name was
Logi, to come forward and try his skill with Loki. A
trough filled with meat having been set on the hall
floor, Loki placed himself at one end, and Logi at the
other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could,
until they met in the middle of the trough. But it was
found that Loki had only eaten the flesh, while his
adversary had devoured both flesh and bone, and the
trough to boot. All the company therefore adjudged
that Loki was vanquished.
Utgard-Loki then asked what feat the young man
who accompanied Thor could perform. Thialfl answered
that he would run a race with any one who might be
matched against him. The king observed that skill
in running was something to boast of, but if the youth
would win the match he must display great agility. He
then arose and went with all who were present to a
plain where there was good ground for running on, and
calling a young man named Hugi, bade him run a match
with Thialfi. In the first course Hugi so much out-
stripped his competitor that he turned back and met
him not far from the starting place. Then they ran a
second and a third time, but Thialfi met with no better
success.
Utgard-Loki then asked Thor in what feats he would
choose to give proofs of that prowess for which he
was so famous. Thor answered that he would try a
drinking-match with any one. Utgard-Loki bade his
cup-bearer bring the large horn which his followers
were obliged to empty when they had trespassed in any
way against the law of the feast. The cupbearer having
presented it to Thor, Utgard-Loki said, "Whoever is
a good drinker will empty that horn at a single draught,
though most men make two of it, but the most puny
,,
drinker can do it in three.
Thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no ex-
traordinary size though somewhat long; however, as
he was very thirsty, he set it to his lips, and without
drawing breath, pulled as long and as deeply as he could,
that he might not be obliged to make a second draught
of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in,
he could scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished.
After taking breath, Thor went to it again with all
his might, but when he took the horn from his mouth,
it seemed to him that he had drunk rather less than
before, although the horn could now be carried without
spilling.
"How now, Thor?" said Utgard-Loki; "thou must
not spare thyself; if thou meanest to drain the horn
at the third draught thou must pull deeply; and I must

needs say that thou wilt not be called so mighty a man
here as thou art at home if thou showest no greater
prowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in
this."
Thor, of wrath, again set the horn to his lips,
full
and did empty it; but on looking in found
his best to
the liquor was only a little lower, so he resolved to make
no further attempt, but gave back the horn to the cup-
bearer.
"I now see plainly," said Utgard-Loki, "that thou art
not quite so stout as we thought thee: but wilt thou
try any other feat, though methinks thou art not likely
to bear any prize away with thee hence."
"What new trial hast thou to propose?" said Thor.
"We have a very trifling game here," answered Ut-
gard-Loki, "in which we exercise none but children.
It consists in merely lifting my cat from the ground;
nor should I have dared to mention such a feat to the
great Thor if I had not already observed that thou art
by no means what we took thee for."
As he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on
the hall floor. Thor put his hand under the cat's belly
and did his utmost to raise him from the floor, but the
cat, bending his back, had, notwithstanding all Trior's
efforts, only one of his feet lifted up, seeing which
Thor made no further attempt.
"This trial has turned out," said Utgard-Loki, "just
as I imagined it would. The cat is large, but Thor
is little in comparison to our men."
"Little as ye call me," answered Thor, "let me see
who among you will come hither now I am in wrath
and wrestle with me."
"I see no one here," said Utgard-Loki, looking at the
men sitting on the benches, "who would not think it
beneath him to wrestle with thee; let somebody, how-
ever, call hither that old crone, my nurse Elli, and let
Thor wrestle with her if he will. She has thrown to
the ground many a man not less strong than this Thor
A toothless old woman then entered the hall, and

was told by Utgard-Loki
to take hold of Thor. The
tale is shortly told. The more Thor
tightened his hold
on the crone the firmer she stood. At length after a
very violent struggle Thor began to lose his footing,
and was finally brought down upon one knee. Utgard-
Loki then told them to desist, adding that Thor had
now no occasion to ask any one else in the hall to
wrestle with him, and it was also getting late; so he
showed Thor and his companions to their seats, and they
passed the night there in good cheer.
The next morning, at break of day, Thor and his
companions dressed themselves and prepared for their
departure. Utgard-Loki ordered a table to be set for
them, on which there was no lack of victuals or drink.
After the repast Utgard-Loki led them to the gate of
the city, and on parting asked Thor how he thought his
journey had turned out, and whether he had met with
any men stronger than himself. Thor told him that he
could not deny but that he had brought great shame on
himself. "And what grieves me most," he added, "is
that ye will call me a person of little worth."
"Nay," said Utgard-Loki, "it behooves me to tell thee
the truth, now thou art out of the city, which so long
as I live and have my way thou shalt never enter again.
And, by my troth, had I known beforehand that thou
hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst have
brought me so near to a great mishap, I would not have
suffered thee to enter this time. Know then that I have
all along deceived thee by my illusions; first in the
forest, where I tied up the wallet with iron wire so
that thou couldst not untie it. After this thou gavest
me three blows with thy mallet; the first, though the
least, would have ended my days had it fallen on me,
but I slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain,
where thou wilt find three glens, one of them remark-
ably deep. These are the dints made by thy mallet. I
have made use of similar illusions in the contests you
have had with my followers. In the first, Loki, like
hunger itself, devoured all that was set before him,
but Logi was in reality nothing else than Fire, and
therefore consumed not only the meat, but the trough
THE DEATH OF BALDUR 343
which held it. Hugi, with whom Thialfi contended in

running, was Thought, and it was impossible for
Thialfi
to keep pace with that. When thou in thy turn didst
attempt to empty the horn, thou didst perform, by my
troth, a deed so marvellous that had I not seen it my-
self I should never have believed it. For one end of that
horn reached the sea, which thou wast not aware of, but
when thou comest to the shore thou wilt perceive how
much the sea has sunk by thy draughts. Thou didst
perform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat,
and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that one of
his paws was off the floor, we were all of us terror-
stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality
the Midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and
he was so stretched by thee that he was barely long
enough to enclose it between his head and tail. Thy
wrestling with Elli was also a most astonishing feat,
for there was never yet a man, nor ever will be, whom
Old Age, for such in fact was Elli, will not sooner or
later lay low. But now, as we are going to part, let
me tell thee that it will be better for both of us if thou
never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, I
shall again defend myself by other illusions, so that
thou wilt only lose thy labor and get no fame from
the contest with me."
On hearing these words Thor in a rage laid hold of
his mallet and would have launched it at him, but
Utgard-Loki had disappeared, and when Thor would
have returned to the city to destroy it, he found noth-
ing around him but a verdant plain.
CHAPTER XL
THE DEATH OF BALDUR THE ELVES RUNIC LETTERS-
ICELAND TEUTONIC MYTHOLOGY NIBELUNGEN LIED
THE DEATH OF BALDUR

Baldur the Good, having been tormented with ter-
rible dreams indicating that his life was in peril, told
—
them to the assembled gods, who resolved to conjure all

things to avert from him the threatened danger. Then
Frigga, the wife of Odin, exacted an oath from fire
and water, from iron and all other metals, from stones,
trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping things,
that none of them would do any harm to Baldur. Odin,
not satisfied with all this, and feeling alarmed for the
fate of his son, determined to consult the prophetess
Angerbode, a giantess, mother of Fenris, Hela, and the
Midgard serpent. She was dead, and Odin was forced
to seek her in Hela's dominions. This Descent of Odin
forms the subject of Gray's fine ode beginning,
"Uprose the king of men with speed
And saddled straight his coal-black steed."
But the other gods, feeling that what Frigga had

done was quite sufficient, amused themselves with using
Baldur as a mark, some hurling darts at him, some
stones, while others hewed at him with their swords
and battle-axes; for do what they would, none of them
could harm him. And this became a favorite pastime
with them and was regarded as an honor shown to
Baldur. But when Loki beheld the scene he was sorely
vexed that Baldur was not hurt. Assuming, therefore,
the shape of a woman, he went to Fensalir, the man-
sion of Frigga. That goddess, when she saw the pre-
tended woman, inquired of her if she knew what the
gods were doing at their meetings. She replied that
they were throwing darts and stones at Baldur, with-
out being able to hurt him. "Ay," said Frigga, "neither
stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt Baldur,
for I have exacted an oath from all of them." "What,"
exclaimed the woman, "have all things sworn to spare
Baldur?" "All things," replied Frigga, "except one lit-
tle shrub that grows on the eastern side of Valhalla,
and is called Mistletoe, and which I thought too young
and feeble to crave an oath from."
As soon as Loki heard this he went away, and re-
suming his natural shape, cut off the mistletoe, and re-
paired to the place where the gods were assembled.
There he found Hodur standing apart, without partak-
THE DEATH OF BALDUR 345
ing of the sports, on account of his blindness, and going

up to him, said, "Why dost thou not also throw some-
thing at Baldur?"
"Because I am blind," answered Hodur, "and see
not where Baldur is, and have, moreover, nothing to
throw."
"Come, then," said Loki, "do like the rest, and show
honor to Baldur by throwing this twig at him, and I
will direct thy arm towards the place where he stands."
Hodur then took the mistletoe, and under the guid-
ance of Loki, darted it at Baldur, who, pierced through
and through, fell down lifeless. Surely never was there
witnessed, either among gods or men, a more atrocious
deed than this. When Baldur fell, the gods were struck
speechless with horror, and then they looked at each
other, and all were of one mind to lay hands on him
who had done the deed, but they were obliged to delay
their vengeance out of respect for the sacred place where
they were assembled. They gave vent to their grief by
loud lamentations. When the gods came to themselves,
Frigga asked who among them wished to gain all her
love and good will. "For this," said she, "sha, 1 he have
who will ride to Hel and offer Hela a ransom if she
will let Baldur return to Asgard." Whereupon Hermod,
surnamed the Nimble, the son of Odin, offered to un-
dertake the journey. Odin's horse, Sleipnir, which has
eight legs and can outrun the wind, was then led forth,
on which Hermod mounted and galloped away on his
mission. For the space of nine days and as many nights
he rode through deep glens so dark that he could not
discern anything, until he arrived at the river Gyoll,
which he passed over on a bridge covered with glit-
tering gold. The maiden who kept the bridge asked him
his name and lineage, telling him that the day before
five bands of dead persons had ridden over the bridge,
and did not shake it as much as he alone. "But," she
added, "thou hast not death's hue on thee; why then
ridest thou here on the way to Hel?"
"I ride to Hel," answered Hermod, "to seek Baldur.
Hast thou perchance seen him pass this way?"
She replied, "Baldur hath ridden over Gyoll's bridge,
and yonder lieth the way he took to the abodes of
death."
Hermod pursued his journey until he came to the
barred gates of Hel. Here he alighted, girthed his sad-
dle tighter, and remounting clapped both spurs to his
horse, who cleared the gate by a tremendous leap with-
out touching it. Hermod then rode on to the palace,
where he found his brother Baldur occupying the most
distinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in
his company. The next morning he besought Hela to let
Baldur ride home with him, assuring her that nothing
but lamentations were to be heard among the gods.
Hela answered that it should now be tried whether
Baldur was so beloved as he was said to be. "If,
therefore/' she added, "all things in the world, both liv-
ing and lifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to
life; but if any one thing speak against him or refuse
to weep, he shall be kept in Hel."
Hermod then rode back to Asgard and gave an ac-
count of all he had heard and witnessed.
The gods upon this despatched messengers through-
out the world to beg everything to weep in order that
Baldur might be delivered from Hel. All things very
willingly complied with this request, both men and every
other living being, as well as earths, and stones, and
trees, and metals, just as we have all seen these things
weep when they are brought from a cold place into a
hot one. As the messengers were returning, they found
an old hag named Thaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged
her to weep Baldur out of Hel. But she answered,
"Thaukt will wail

With dry tears
Baldur's bale-fire.
Let Hela keep her own."
It that this hag was no other

was strongly suspected
t!ianLoki himself, who never ceased to work evil among
gods and men. So Baldur was prevented from coming
back to Asgard. 3
1 In Longfellow's Poems will be found a poem entitled "Tegner's Drapa,"
upon the subject of Baldur's death.
THE FUNERAL OF BALDUR 347
THE FUNERAL OF BALDUR

The gods took up the dead body and bore it to the
seashore where stood Baldur's ship "Hringham," which
passed for the largest in the world. Baldur's dead body
was put on the funeral pile, on board the ship, and his
wife Nanna was so struck with grief at the sight that
she broke her heart, and her body was burned on the
same pile as her husband's. There was a vast concourse
of various kinds of people at Baldur's obsequies. First
came Odin accompanied by Frigga, the Valkyrie, and
his ravens; then Frey in his car drawn by Gullinbursti,
the boar; Heimdall rode his horse Gulltopp, and Freya
drove in her chariot drawn by cats. There were also a
great many Frost giants and giants of the mountain
present. Baldur's horse was led to the pile fully ca-
parisoned and consumed in the same flames with his
master.
But Loki did not escape his deserved punishment.
When he saw how angry the gods were, he fled to the
mountain, and there built himself a hut with four doors,
so that he could see every approaching danger. He in-
vented a net to catch the fishes, such as fishermen have
used since his time. But Odin found out his hiding-
place and the gods assembled to take him. He, seeing
this, changed himself into a salmon, and lay hid among
the stones of the brook. But the gods took his net
and dragged the brook, and Loki, finding he must be
caught, tried to leap over the net; but Thor caught him
by the tail and compressed it, so that salmons ever since
have had that part remarkably fine and thin. They bound
him with chains and suspended a serpent over his head.,
whose venom falls upon his face drop by drop. His
wife Siguna sits by his side and catches the drops as
they fall, in a cup but when she carries it away to
;
empty it, the venom falls upon Loki, which makes him
howl with horror, and twist his body about so violently
that the whole earth shakes, and this produces what men
call earthquakes.
THE ELVES
The Edda mentions another class of beings, inferior
to the gods, but still possessed of great power; these
were called Elves. The white spirits, or Elves of
Light, were exceedingly fair, more brilliant than the
sun, and clad in garments of a delicate and transparent
texture. They loved the light, were kindly disposed to
mankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely chil-
dren. Their country was called Alfheim, and was the
domain of Freyr, the god of the sun, in whose light
they were always sporting.
The Black or Night Elves were a different kind of
creatures. Ugly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown
color, they appeared only at night, for they avoided the
sun as their most deadly enemy, because whenever his
beams fell upon any of them they changed them imme-
diately into stones. Their language was the echo of
solitudes, and their dwelling-places subterranean caves
and clefts. They were supposed to have come into ex-
istence as maggots produced by the decaying flesh of
Ymir's body, and were afterwards endowed by the gods
with a human form and great understanding. They
were particularly distinguished for a knowledge of the
mysterious powers of nature, and for the runes which
they carved and explained. They were the most skilful
artificers of all created beings, and worked in metals and
in wood. Among their most noted works were Trior's
hammer, and the ship "Skidbladnir," which they gave
to Freyr, and which was so large that it could contain
all the deities with their war and household implements,
but so skillfully was it wrought that when folded to-
gether it could be put into a side pocket.
RAGNAROK, THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS

It was a firm belief of the northern nations that a time
would come when all the visible creation, the gods of
Valhalla and Niffleheim, the inhabitants of Joturmeim,
Alfheim, and Midgard, together with their habitations,
would be destroyed. The fearful day of destruction
RAGNAROK 349
will not, however, be without its forerunners. First

will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall
from the four corners of the heavens, the frost be very
severe, the wind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and
the sun impart no gladness. Three such winters will
pass away without being tempered by a single summer.
Three other similar winters will then follow, during
which war and discord will spread over the universe.
The earth itself will be frightened and begin to tremble,
the sea leave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and
men perish in great numbers, and the eagles of the air
feast upon their still quivering bodies. The wolf Fenris
will now break his bands, the Midgard serpent rise out
of her bed in the sea, and Loki, released from his bonds,
will join the enemies of the gods. Amidst the general
devastation the sons of Muspelheim will rush forth un-
der their leader Surtur, before and behind whom are
flames and burning fire. Onward they ride over Bifrost,
the rainbow bridge, which breaks under the horses'
hoofs. But they, disregarding its fall, direct their
course to the battlefield called Vigrid. Thither also re-
pair the wolf Fenris, the Midgard serpent, Loki with
all the followers of Hela, and the Frost giants.
Heimdall now stands up and sounds the Giallar horn
to assemble the gods and heroes for the contest. The
gods advance, led on by Odin, who engages the wolf
Fenris, but falls a victim to the monster, who is, how-
ever, slain by Vidar, Odin's son. Thor gains great re-
nown by killing the Midgard serpent, but recoils and
falls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying
monster vomits over him. Loki and Heimdall meet
and fight till they are both slain. The gods and their
enemies having fallen in battle, Surtur, who has killed
Freyr, darts fire and flames over the world, and the
whole universe is burned up. The sun becomes dim,
the earth sinks into the ocean, the stars fall from heaven,
and time is no more.
After this Alfadur (the Almighty) will cause a new
heaven and a new earth to arise out of the sea. The
new earth filled with abundant supplies will spontane-
ously produce its fruits without labor or care. Wicked-
:

ness and misery will no more be known, but the gods
and men will live happily together.
RUNIC LETTERS
One cannot travel far in Denmark, Norway, or
Sweden without meeting with great stones of different
forms, engraven with characters called Runic, which
appear at first sight very different from all we know.
The letters consist almost invariably of straight lines,
in the shape of little sticks either singly or put together.
Such sticks were in early times used by the northern
nations for the purpose of ascertaining future events.
The sticks were shaken up, and from the figures that
they formed a kind of divination was derived.
The Runic characters were of various kinds. They
were chiefly used for magical purposes. The noxious,
or, as they called them, the bitter runes, were em-
ployed to bring various evils on their enemies the favor-
;
able averted misfortune. Some were medicinal, others

employed to win love, etc. In later times they were
frequently used for inscriptions, of which more than a
thousand have been found. The language is a dialect of
the Gothic, called Norse, still in use in Iceland. The
inscriptions may therefore be read with certainty, but
hitherto very few have been found which throw the
least light on history. They are mostly epitaphs on
tombstones.
Gray's ode on the "Descent of Odin" contains an al-

lusion to the use of Runic letters for incantation
"Facing to the northern clime,

Thrice he traced the Runic rhyme;
Thrice pronounced, in accents dread,
The wakes the dead,
thrilling verse that
Till from out the hollow ground
Slowly breathed a sullen sound."
THE SKALDS
The Skalds were the bards and poets of the nation,
a very important class of men in all communities in an
early stage of civilization. They are the depositaries of
:
TEUTONIC MYTHOLOGY 351
whatever historic lore there is, and it is their office to

mingle something of intellectual gratification with the
rude feasts of the warriors, by rehearsing, with such
accompaniments of poetry and music as their skill can
afford, the exploits of their heroes living or dead. The
compositions of the Skalds were called Sagas, many of
which have come down to us, and contain valuable ma-
terials of history, and a faithful picture of the state of
society at the time to which they relate.
ICELAND
The Eddas and Sagas have come to us from Iceland.
The following extract from Carlyle's lectures on "Heroes
and Hero Worship" gives an animated account of the
region where the strange stories we have been reading
had their origin. Let the reader contrast it for a mo-
ment with Greece, the parent of classical mythology
—
"In that strange island, Iceland, burst up, the geolo-
gists say, by fire from the bottom of the sea, a wild land
of barrenness and lava, swallowed many months of every
year in black tempests, yet with a wild, gleaming beauty
in summer time, towering up there stern and grim in
the North Ocean, with its snow yokuls [mountains],
roaring geysers [boiling springs], sulphur pools, and
horrid volcanic chasms, like the waste, chaotic battle-
field of Frost and Fire, — where, of all places, we least
—
looked for literature or written memorials, the record
of these things was written down. On the seaboard of
this wild land is a rim of grassy country, where cattle
can subsist, and men by means of them and of what the
sea yields; and it seems they were poetic men these,
men who had deep thoughts in them and uttered music-
ally their thoughts. Much would be lost had Ice-
land not been burst up from the sea, not been discovered
!"
by the Northmen
TEUTONIC MYTHOLOGY
In the mythology of Germany proper, the name of
Odin appears as Wotan Freya and Frigga are regarded
;
as one and the same divinity, and the gods are in general
represented as less warlike in character than those in
the Scandinavian myths. As a whole, however, Teu-
tonic mythology runs along almost identical lines
with that of the northern nations. The most notable
divergence is due to modifications of the legends by
reason of the difference in climatic conditions. The
more advanced social condition of the Germans is also
apparent in their mythology.
THE NIBELUNGEN LIED

One of the oldest myths of the Teutonic race is found
in the great national epic of the Nibelungen Lied, which
dates back to the prehistoric era when Wotan, Frigga,
Thor, Loki, and the other gods and goddesses were
worshipped in the German forests. The epic is divided
into two parts, the first of which tells how Siegfried,
the youngest of the kings of the Netherlands, went to
Worms, to ask in marriage the hand of Kriemhild, sister
of Giinther, King of Burgundy. While he was staying
with Giinther, Siegfried helped the Burgundian king to
secure as his wife Brunhild, queen of Issland. The
latter had announced publicly that he only should be her
husband who could beat her in hurling a spear, throwing
a huge stone, and in leaping. Siegfried, who possessed
a cloak of invisibility, aided Giinther in these three con-
tests, and Brunhild became his wife. In return for these
services, Giinther gave Siegfried his sister Kriemhild in
marriage.
After some time had elapsed, Siegfried and Kriem-
hild went to visit Giinther, when the two women fell into
a dispute about the relative merits of their husbands.
Kriemhild, to exalt Siegfried, boasted that it was to the
latter that Giinther owed his victories and his wife.
Brunhild, in great anger, employed Hagan, liegeman of
Giinther, to murder Siegfried. In the epic Hagan is de-
scribed as follows:
"Well-grown and well-compacted was that redoubted guest;

Long were his legs and sinewy, and deep and broad his chest;
His hair, that once was sable, with gray was dashed of late;
Most terrible his visage, and lordly was his gait."
— Nibelungen Lied, stanza 1789.
:
THE NIBELUNGEN HOARD 353
This Achilles of German romance stabbed Siegfried

between the shoulders, as the unfortunate King of the
Netherlands was stooping to drink from a brook during
a hunting expedition.
The second part of the epic relates how, thirteen years
later, Kriemhild married Etzel, King of the Huns.
After a time, she invited the King of Burgundy, with
Hagan and many others, to the court of her husband.
A fearful quarrel was stirred up in the banquet hall,
which ended in the slaughter of all the Burgundians but
Giinther and Hagan. These two were taken prisoners
and given to Kriemhild, who with her own hand cut off
the heads of both. For this bloody act of vengeance
Kriemhild was herself slain by Hildebrand, a magician
and champion, who in German mythology holds a place
io an extent corresponding to that of Nestor in the
Greek mythology.
THE NIBELUNGEN HOARD

This was a mythical mass of gold and precious stones
which Siegfried obtained from the Nibelungs, the people
of the north whom he had conquered and whose country
he had made tributary to his own kingdom of the Nether-
lands. Upon his marriage, Siegfried gave the treasure
to Kriemhild as her wedding portion. After the murder
of Siegfried, Hagan seized it and buried it secretly be-
neath the Rhine at Lochham, intending to recover it at
a future period. The hoard was lost forever when
Hagan was killed by Kriemhild. Its wonders are thus
set forth in the poem
"'Twas as much as twelve huge wagons in four whole nights

and days
Could carry from the mountain down to the salt sea bay;
Though to and fro each wagon thrice journeyed every day.
"It was made up of nothing but precious stones and gold;

Were all the world bought from it, and down the value told,
Not a mark the less wom-ld there be left than erst there was, I
ween."
—Nibelungen Lied, XIX.
;

Whoever possessed the Nibelungen hoard were
termed Nibelungers. Thus at one time certain people
of Norway were so called. When Siegfried held the
treasure he received the title "King of the Nibelungers."
wagner's nibelungen ring

Though Richard Wagner's music-drama of the Nibe-
lungen Ring bears some resemblance to the ancient Ger-
man epic, it is a wholly independent composition and
was derived from various old songs and sagas, which
the dramatist wove into one great harmonious story.
The principal source was the Volsunga Saga, while
lesser parts were taken from the Elder Edda and the
Younger Edda, and others from the Nibelungen Lied,
the Ecklenlied, and other Teutonic folklore.
In the drama there are at first only four distinct races,
— the gods, the giants, the dwarfs, and the nymphs.
Later, by a special creation, there come the valkyrie and
the heroes. The gods are the noblest and highest race,
and dwell first in the mountain meadows, later in the
palace of Valhalla on the heights. The giants are a
great and strong race, but lack wisdom; they hate what
is noble, and are enemies of the gods ;
they dwell in caves
near the earth's surface. The dwarfs, or nibelungs, are
black uncouth pigmies, hating the good, hating the gods
they are crafty and cunning, and dwell in the bowels of
the earth. The nymphs are pure, innocent creatures of
the water. The valkyrie are daughters of the gods, but
mingled with a mortal strain; they gather dead heroes
from the battle-fields and carry them to Valhalla. The
heroes are children of the gods, but also mingled with
a mortal strain; they are destined to become at last the
highest race of all, and to succeed the gods in the govern-
ment of the world.
The principal gods are Wotan, Loki, Donner, and
Froh. The chief giants are Fafner and Fasolt, brothers.
The chief dwarfs are Alberich and Mime, brothers, and
later Hagan, son of Alberich. The chief nymphs are
the Rhine-daughters, Flosshilda, Woglinda,, and Well-
gunda. There are nine Valkyrie, of whom Brunhild
is the leading one.
:
WAGNER'S NIBELUNGEN RING 355
Wagner's story of the Ring may be summarized as

follows
A hoard of gold exists in the depths of the Rhine,
guarded by the innocent Rhine-maidens. Alberich, the
dwarf, forswears love to gain this gold. He makes it
into a magic ring. It gives him all power, and he gathers
by it a vast amount of treasures.
Meanwhile Wotan, chief of the gods, has engaged the
giants to build for him a noble castle, Valhalla, from
whence to rule the world, promising in payment Freya,
goddess of youth and love. But the gods find they cannot
spare Freya, as they are dependent on her for their im-
mortal youth. Loki, called upon to provide a substitute,
tells of Alberich's magic ring and other treasure. Wotan
goes with Loki, and they steal the ring and the golden
hoard from Alberich, who curses the ring and lays the
curse on all who shall henceforth possess it. The gods
give the ring and the treasure to the giants as a sub-
stitute for The curse at once begins. One giant,
Freya.
Fafner, brother to get all, and transforms him-
kills his
self into a dragon to guard his wealth. The gods enter
Valhalla over the rainbow bridge. This ends the first
part of the drama, called the Rhine-Gold.
The second part, the Valkyrie, relates how Wotan still
covets the ring. He cannot take it himself, for he has
given his word to the giants. He stands or falls by his
word. So he devises an artifice to get the ring. He
will get a hero-race to work for him and recover the
ring and the treasures. Siegmund and Sieglinda are
twin children of this new race. Sieglinda is carried off
as a child and is forced into marriage with Hunding.
Siegmund comes, and unknowingly breaks the law of
marriage, but wins Nothung, the great sword,
and a bride. Brunhild, chief of the Valkyrie, is com-
missioned by Wotan at the instance of Fricka, god-
dess of marriage, to slay him for his sin. She disobeys
and tries to save him, but Hunding, helped by Wotan,
slays him. Sieglinda, however, about to bear the free
hero, to be called Siegfried, is saved by Brunhild, and
hid in the forest. Brunhild herself is punished by
being made a mortal woman. She is left sleeping on the
mountains with a wall of fire around her which only a
hero can penetrate.
The drama continues with the story of Siegfried,
which opens with a scene in the smithy between Mime
the dwarf and Siegfried. Mime is welding a sword,
and Siegfried scorns him. Mime tells him something of
his mother, Sieglinda, and shows him the broken pieces
of his father's sword. Wotan comes and tells Mime that
only one who has no fear can remake the sword. Now
Siegfried knows no fear and soon remakes the sword
Nothung. Wotan and Alberich come to where the
dragon Fafner is guarding the ring. They both long for
it, but neither can take it. Soon Mime comes bringing
Siegfried with the mighty sword. Fafner comes out, but
Siegfried slays him. Happening to touch his lips with
the dragon's blood, he understands the language of the
birds. They tell him of the ring. He goes and gets it.
Siegfried now has possession of the ring, but it is to
bring him nothing of happiness, only evil. It is to curse
love and finally bring death. The birds also tell him of
Mime's treachery. He slays Mime. He longs for some
one to love. The birds tell him of the slumbering
Brunnhilda, whom he finds and marries.
The Dusk of the Gods portrays at the opening the
three norns or fates weaving and measuring the thread
of destiny. It is the beginning of the end. The perfect
pair, Siegfried and Brunhild, appear in all the glory
of their life, splendid ideals of manhood and womanhood.
But Siegfried goes out into the world to achieve deeds
of prowess. He gives her the Nibelungen ring to keep
as a pledge of his love till his return. Meanwhile Al-
berich also has begotten a son, Hagan, to achieve for
him the possession of the ring. He is partly of the
Gibichung race, and works through Gimther and Gut-
rune, half-brother and half-sister to him. They beguile
Siegfried to them, give him a magic draught which
makes him forget Brunhild and fall in love with Gut-
rune. Under this same spell, he offers to bring Brun-
hild for wife to Giinther. Now is Valhalla full of
sorrow and despair. The gods fear the end. Wotan
murmurs, "O that she would give back the ring to the
WAGNER'S NIBELUNGEN RING 357
—
Rhine." But Brunhild will not give it up, it is now
her pledge of love. Siegfried comes, takes the ring, and
Brunhild is now brought to the Rhine castle of the
Gibichungs, but Siegfried under the spell does not love
her. She is to be wedded to Giinther. She rises in
wrath and denounces Siegfried. But at a hunting ban-
quet Siegfried is given another magic draught, remem-
bers and is slain by Hagan by a blow in the back, as
all,
he on Brunhild's name in love. Then comes the
calls
end. The body of Siegfried is burned on a funeral
pyre, a grand funeral march is heard, and Brunhild
rides into the flames and sacrifices herself for love's
sake; the ring goes back to the Rhine- daughters and ;
—
the old world of the gods of Valhalla, of passion and
sin —
is burnt up with flames, for the gods have broken
moral law, and coveted power rather than love, gold
rather than truth, and therefore must perish. They pass,
and a new era, the reign of love and truth, has begun.
Those who wish to study the differences in the legends
of the Nibelungen Lied and the Nibelungen Ring, and
the way in which Wagner used his ancient material, are
referred to Professor W. C. Sawyer's book on "Teu-
tonic Legends in the Nibelungen Lied and the Nibe-
lungen Ring," where the matter is treated in full detail.
For a very thorough and clear analysis of the Ring as
Wagner with a study of the musical motifs,
gives it,
probably nothing
is better for general readers than
the volume "The Epic of Sounds," by Freda Winworth.
The more scholarly work of Professor Lavignac is indis-
pensable for the student of Wagner's dramas. There
is much comment on the sources and ma-
illuminating
terials in "Legends of the Wagner Drama" by J. L.
Weston.
CHAPTER XLI
THE DRUIDS —IONA
DRUIDS
The Druids were the priests or ministers of religion
among the ancient Celtic nations in Gaul, Britain, and
Germany. Our information respecting them is bor-
rowed from notices in the Greek and Roman writers,
compared with the remains of Welsh and Gaelic poetry
still extant.
The Druids combined the functions of the priest, the
magistrate, the scholar, and the physician. They stood
to the people of the Celtic tribes in a relation closely
analogous to that in which the Brahmans of India, the
Magi of Persia, and the priests of the Egyptians stood
to the people respectively by whom they were revered.
The Druids taught the existence of one god, to whom
they gave a name "Be' al," which Celtic antiquaries tell
us means "the life of everything," or "the source of all
beings," and which seems to have affinity with the
Phoenician Baal. What renders this affinity more strik-
ing is that the Druids as well as the Phoenicians identi-
fied this, their supreme deity, with the Sun. Fire was
regarded as a symbol of the divinity. The Latin writers
assert that the Druids also worshipped numerous in-
ferior gods.
They used no images to represent the object of their
worship, nor did they meet in temples or buildings of
any kind for the performance of their sacred rites. A
circle of stones (each stone generally of vast size), en-
closing an area of from twenty feet to thirty yards in
diameter, constituted their sacred place. The most cele-
brated of these now remaining is Stonehenge, on Salis-
bury Plain, England.
These sacred circles were generally situated near
some stream, or under the shadow of a grove or wide-
spreading oak. In the centre of the circle stood the
:
DRUIDS 359
Cromlech or altar, which was a large stone, placed in

themanner of a table upon other stones set up on end.
The Druids had also their high places, which were
large stones or piles of stones on the summits of hills.
These were called Cairns, and were used in the worship
of the deity under the symbol of the sun.
That the Druids offered sacrifices to their deity there
can be no doubt. But there is some uncertainty as to
what they offered, and of the ceremonies connected with
we know almost nothing. The
their religious services
classical (Roman) writers affirm that they offered on
great occasions human sacrifices; as for success in war
or for relief from dangerous diseases. Caesar has given
a detailed account of the manner in which this was done.
"They have images of immense size, the limbs of which
are framed with twisted twigs and filled with living per-
sons. These being set on fire, those within are encom-
passed by the flames." Many attempts have been made
by Celtic writers to shake the testimony of the Roman
historians to this fact, but without success.
The Druids observed two festivals in each year. The
former took place in the beginning of May, and was
called Beltane or "fire of God." On this occasion a
large fire was kindled on some elevated spot, in honor
of the sun, whose returning beneficence they thus wel-
comed after the gloom and desolation of winter. Of
this custom a trace remains in the name given to Whit-
sunday in parts of Scotland to this day. Sir Walter
Scott uses the word in the "Boat Song" in the "Lady
of the Lake"
"Ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain,

Blooming at Beltane in winter to fade;" etc.
The other great festival of the Druids was called

"Samh'in," or "fire of peace," and was held on Hallow-
eve (first of November), which still retains this designa-
tion in the Highlands of Scotland. On this occasion the
Druids assembled in solemn conclave, in the most cen-
tral part of the district, to discharge the judicial func-
tions of their order. All questions, whether public or
private, all crimes against person or property, were at
this time brought before them for adjudication. With
these judicial acts were combined certain superstitious
usages, especially the kindling of the sacred fire, from
which all the fires in the district, which had been before-
hand scrupulously extinguished, might be relighted. This
usage of kindling fires on Hallow-eve lingered in the
British islands long after the establishment of Chris-
tianity.
Besides these two great annual festivals, the Druids
were in the habit of observing the full moon, and espe-
cially the sixth day of the moon. On the latter they
sought the Mistletoe, which grew on their favorite oaks,
and to which, as well as to the oak itself, they ascribed
a peculiar virtue and sacredness. The discovery of it
was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn worship.
"They call it," says Pliny, "by a word in their language,
which means 'heal-all/ and having made solemn prep-
aration for feasting and sacrifice under the tree, they
drive thither two milk-white bulls, whose horns are then
for the first time bound. The priest then, robed in
white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the mistletoe with
a golden sickle. It is caught in a white mantle, after
which they proceed to slay the victims, at the same time
praying that God would render his gift prosperous to
those to whom he had given it." They drink the water
in which it has been infused, and think it a remedy for
all diseases. The mistletoe is a parasitic plant, and is
not always nor often found on the oak, so that when
it is found it is the more
precious.
The Druids were the teachers of morality as well as
of religion. Of their ethical teaching a valuable speci-
men is preserved in the Triads of the Welsh Bards,
and from this we may gather that their views of moral
rectitude were on the whole just, and that they held
and inculcated many very noble and valuable principles
of conduct. They were also the men of science and
learning of their age and people. Whether they were
acquainted with letters or not has been disputed, though
the probability is strong that they were, to some extent.
But it is certain that they committed nothing of their
DRUIDS 361
doctrine, their history, or their poetry to writing. Their

teaching was oral, and their literature (if such a word
may be used in such a case) was preserved solely by
tradition. But the Roman writers admit that "they paid
much attention to the order and laws of nature, and in-
vestigated and taught to the youth under their charge
many things concerning the stars and their motions, the
size of the world and the lands, and concerning the
might and power of the immortal gods."
Their history consisted in traditional tales, in which
the heroic deeds of their forefathers were celebrated.
These were apparently in verse, and thus constituted
part of the poetry as well as the history of the Druids.
In the poems of Ossian we have, if not the actual pro-
ductions of Druidical times, what may be considered
faithful representations of the songs of the Bards.
The Bards were an essential part of the Druidical
hierarchy. One author, Pennant, says, "The Bards
were supposed to be endowed with powers equal to
inspiration. They were the oral historians of all past
transactions, public and private. They were also ac-
complished genealogists," etc.
Pennant gives a minute account of the Eisteddfods
or sessions of the Bards and minstrels, which were held
in Wales for many centuries, long after the Druidical
priesthood in its other departments became extinct. At
these meetings none but Bards of merit were suffered to
rehearse their pieces, and minstrels of skill to perform.
Judges were appointed to decide on their respective
abilities, and were conferred. In the
suitable degrees
earlier period the judgeswere appointed by the Welsh
princes, and after the conquest of Wales, by commis-
sion from the kings of England. Yet the tradition is
that Edward I., in revenge for the influence of the
Bards inanimating the resistance of the people to his
sway, persecuted them with great cruelty. This tra-
dition has furnished the poet Gray with the subject of
his celebrated ode, the "Bard."
There are still occasional meetings of the lovers of
Welsh poetry and music, held under the ancient name.
Among Mrs. Hemans' poems is one written for an
Eisteddfod, or meeting of Welsh Bards, held in Lon-
don, May 22, 1822. It begins with a description of
the ancient meeting, of which the following lines are a
part:
". . . midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied

The crested Roman in his hour of pride;
And where the Druid's ancient cromlech frowned,
And the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round,
There thronged the inspired of yore! on plain or height,
In the sun's face, beneath the eye of light,
And baring unto heaven each noble head,
Stood in the circle, where none else might tread."
The Druidical system was at its height at the time

of the Roman invasion under Julius Caesar. Against
the Druids, as their chief enemies, these conquerors of
the world directed their unsparing fury. The Druids,
harassed at all points on the mainland, retreated to
Anglesey and Iona, where for a season they found shel-
ter and continued their now dishonored rites.
The Druids retained their predominance in Iona and
over the adjacent islands and mainland until they were
supplanted and their superstitions overturned by the
arrival of St. Columba, the apostle of the Highlands,
by whom the inhabitants of that district were first led
to profess Christianity.
IONA
One of the smallest of the British Isles, situated near
a rugged and barren coast, surrounded by dangerous
seas, and possessing no sources of internal wealth, Iona
has obtained an imperishable place in history as the
seat of civilization and religion at a time when the
darkness of heathenism hung over almost the whole of
Northern Europe. Iona or Icolmkill is situated at the
extremity of the island of Mull, from which it is sep-
arated by a strait of half a mile in breadth, its distance
from the mainland of Scotland being thirty-six miles.
Columba was a native of Ireland, and connected by
birth with the princes of the land. Ireland was at
that time a land of gospel light, while the western and
—
IONA 363
northern parts of Scotland were still immersed in the

darkness of heathenism. Columba with twelve friends
landed on the island of Iona in the year of our Lord
563, having made the passage in a wicker boat cov-
ered with hides. The Druids who occupied the island
endeavored to prevent his settling there, and the savage
nations on the adjoining shores incommoded him with
their hostility, and on several occasions endangered his
life by their attacks. Yet by his perseverance and zeal
he surmounted all opposition, procured from the king
a gift of the island, and established there a monastery
of which he was the abbot. He was unwearied in his
labors to disseminate a knowledge of the Scriptures
throughout the Highlands and islands of Scotland, and
such was the reverence paid him that though not a
bishop, but merely a presbyter and monk, the entire
province with its bishops was subject to him and his
successors. The Pictish monarch was so impressed with
a sense of his wisdom and worth that he held him in
the highest honor, and the neighboring chiefs and
princes sought his counsel and availed themselves of
his judgment in settling their disputes.
When Columba landed on Iona he was attended by
twelve followers whom he had formed into a religious
body of which he was the head. To these, as occa-
sion required, others were from time to time added, so
that the original number was always kept up. Their
institution was called a monastery and the superior
an abbot, but the system had little in common with the
monastic institutions of later times. The name by which
those who submitted to the rule were known was that
of Culdees, probably from the Latin "cultores Dei"
worshippers of God. They were a body of religious
persons associated together for the purpose of aiding
each other in the common work of preaching the gos-
pel and teaching youth, as well as maintaining in them-
selves the fervor of devotion by united exercises of wor-
ship. On entering the order certain vows were taken
by the members, but they were not those which were
usually imposed by monastic orders, for of these, which
— —
are three, celibacy, poverty, and obedience. the Cul-
: ;
dees were bound to none except the third. To poverty

they did not bind themselves on the contrary they seem
;
to have labored diligently to procure for themselves and

those dependent on them the comforts of life. Mar-
riage also was allowed them, and most of them seem
to have entered into that state. True, their wives were
not permitted to reside with them at the institution, but
they had a residence assigned to them in an adjacent
locality. Near Iona there is an island which still bears the
name of "Eilen nam ban," women's island, where their
husbands seem to have resided with them, except when
duty required their presence in the school or the sanc-
tuary.
Campbell, in his poem of "Reullura," alludes to the

married monks of Iona
. . The pure Culdees
Were
Albyn's earliest priests of God,
Ere yet an island of her seas
By foot of Saxon monk was trod,
Long ere her churchmen by bigotry
Were barred from holy wedlock's tie.
'Twas then that Aodh, famed afar,
In Iona preached the word with power,
And Reullura, beauty's star,
Was the partner of his bower."
In one of his "Irish Melodies," Moore gives the leg-

end of St. Senanus and the lady who sought shelter on
the island, but was repulsed:
"O, haste and leave this sacred isle,
Unholy bark, ere morning smile
For on thy deck, though dark it be,
A female form I see;
And I have sworn this sainted sod
Shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod."
In these respects and in others the Culdees departed

from the established rules of the Romish church, and
consequently were deemed heretical. The consequence
was that as the power of the latter advanced that of the
Culdees was enfeebled. It was not, however, till the
thirteenth century that the communities of the Culdees
:
IONA 365
were suppressed and the members dispersed. They still

continued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads
of Papal usurpation as they best might till the light of
the Reformation dawned on the world.
Iona, from its position in the western seas, was ex-
posed to the assaults of the Norwegian and Danish rov-
ers by whom those seas were infested, and by them it
was repeatedly pillaged, its dwellings burned, and its
peaceful inhabitants put to the sword. These unfav-
orable circumstances led to its gradual decline, which
was expedited by the subversion of the Culdees through-
out Scotland. Under the reign of Popery the island
became the seat of a nunnery, the ruins of which are
still seen. At the Reformation, the nuns were allowed
to remain, living in community, when the abbey was
dismantled.
Iona is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on ac-
count of the numerous ecclesiastical and sepulchral re-
mains which are found upon it. The principal of these
are the Cathedral or Abbey Church and the Chapel of
the Nunnery. Besides these remains of ecclesiastical
antiquity, there are some of an earlier date, and point-
ing to the existence on the island of forms of worship
and belief different from those of Christianity. These
are the circular Cairns which are found in various parts,
and which seem to have been of Druidical origin, it is
in reference to all these remains of ancient religion that
Johnson exclaims, "That man is little to be envied whose
patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of
Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer amid
the ruins of Iona."
In the "Lord of the Isles" Scott beautifully contrasts

the church on Iona with the cave of Staifa, opposite
"Nature herself, it seemed, would raise
A minister to her Maker's praise!
Not for a meaner use ascend
Her columns, or her arches bend;
Nor of a theme less solemn tells
That mighty surge that ebbs and swells,
And still between each awful pause,
From the high vault an answer draws,
In varied tone, prolonged and high,
That mocks the organ's melody;
Nor doth its entrance front in vain
To old Iona's holy fane,
That Nature's voice might seem to say,
Well hast thou done, frail child of clay!
Thy humble powers that stately shrine
—
Tasked high and hard but witness mine!"
— —— —
PROVERBIAL EXPRESSIONS
No. 1. Page 39.
Materiem superabat opus. Ovid.

The workmanship surpassed the material.
No. 2. Page 39.
Facies non omnibus una,

Nec diversa tamen, qualem decet esse sororum.
—Ovid.
Their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike, but such as those
of sisters ought to be.
No. 3. Page 42.
Medio tutissimus ibis. Ovid.

You will go most safely in the middle.
No. 4. Page 45.
Hie situs est Phaeton, currus auriga paterni,

Quern si non tenuit, magnis tamen excidit ausis.
Ovid. —
Here liesPhaeton, the driver of his father's chariot, which if
he failed to manage, yet he fell in a great undertaking.
No. 5. Page 123.
Imponere Pelio Ossam. Virgil.

To pile Ossa upon Pelion.
No. 6. Page 230.
Timeo Danaos dona ferentes. Virgil.

et
I fear the Greeks even when they offer gifts.
No. 7. Page 232.

Non tali auxilio nec defensoribus istis
Tempus eget. Virgil.
Not such aid nor such defenders does the time require.
No. 8. Page 245.

Incidit in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim.
He runs on Scylla, wishing to avoid Charybdis.
367
— —— ——— — —
368 PROVERBIAL EXPRESSIONS

No. 9. Page 260.
Monstrum horrendum, in forme, ingens, cui lumen ademptum.
— Virgil.
A horrible monster, misshapen, vast, whose only eye has been
put out.
No. 10. Page 261.
Tantaene animis ccelestibus irae? Virgil.

In heavenly minds can such resentments dwell?
No. 11. Page 263.

Haud ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco. Virgil.
Not unacquainted with distress, I have learned to succor the
unfortunate.
No. 12. Page 263.
Tros, Tyriusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur. Virgil.

Whether Trojan or Tyrian shall make no difference to me.
No. 13. Page 265.

Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito. Virgil.
Yield thou not to adversity, but press on the more bravely.
No. 14. Page 265.

Averni;
Facilis descensus
Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis;
Sed revocare gradum, superasque evadere ad auras,
Hoc opus, hie labor est. Virgil.
The descent of Avernus is easy; the gate of Pluto stands open
night and day; but to retrace one's steps and return to the upper
—
air that is the toil, that the difficulty.
No. 15. Page 265.

Uno avulso non deficit alter. Virgil.
When one is torn away another succeeds.
No. 16. Page 282.

Quadrupendante putrum sonitu quatit ungula campum. Virgil
Then struck the hoofs of the steeds on the ground with a four-
footed trampling.
No. 17. Page 285.
Sternitur infelix alieno vulnere, coelumque
Adspicit et moriens dulces reminiscitur Argos. Virgil.
He unhappy, by a wound intended for another; looks up
falls,
to the skies, and dying remembers sweet Argos.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIVE PASSAGES
QUOTED FROM THE POETS
PAGE
Addison (attributed to) 304
Armstrong 22, 117, 175
Browning, Mrs. E. B 168

Bulfinch, Rev. S. G 45, 63, 149
Byron 7, 18, 19, 20, 38, 75, 94, 106, 114, 143, 175, 198,
203, 207, 231, 235, 236, 246, 292, 300, 305,
307, 319
Campbell 137, 364

Coleridge 58
Cowper 4, 104, 192, 221, 300, 304, 308
Darwin 158, 209
Dryden .48, 211, 290, 308, 312
Dyer 133, 233
Fletcher 205
Francklin 184
Garrick Ill
Goldsmith 104
Gray 8, 344, 350
Harvey 90
Hemans 362
Homer 3, 246, 252, 253, 255, 304
Hood 57, 105
Keats .31, 62, 65, 68, 76, 91, 106, 204, 243
Landor ._ 46
Longfellow 161, 206, 291, 336
Lowell 33, 172, 181, 273, 292
369
370 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIVE PASSAGES
PAGE
Lucan 313
Macaulay 11, 159
Mickle 25
Milman 45, 122
Milton 3, 5, 6, 18, 33, 34, 38, 57, 67, 68, 75, 90, 94, 103,
104, 117, 120, 126, 128, 129, 146, 148, 165, 167,
168, 174, 176, 179, 181, 192, 194, 233, 235, 245,
274, 291, 296, 299, 302, 312, 328
Moore 2, 25, 28, 58, 91, 105, 115, 134, 143, 293, 320, 364
Nibelungen Lied 353
Ovid 310
Pope 15, 133, 188, 221, 227, 287, 304
Schiller 63, 149
Scott 264, 359, 365
Shakspeare 5, 127, 137, 290, 291
Shelley 23, 36, 150, 314

Southey 188
Spenser 8, 110, 166, 198
Swift 51, 231

Tennyson Ill, 150, 175, 207, 214, 237, 257, 300
Thomson 80, 305
Tickell 304
Waller 22, 262
Wordsworth ^ 167, 215, 302, 319
Young 126, 176, 205, 275, 318
INDEX AND DICTIONARY
A Ac-tae'on, a celebrated huntsman,
son of Aristaeus and Autonoe,
Ab-syr'tus, younger brother of Me- who, having seen Diana bathing,
dea, 137. was changed by her to a stag and
A-by'dos, a town on the Helles- killed by his own dogs, 34, 36,
pont, nearly opposite to Sestos, 94.
105. Ad-me'ta, daughter of Eurystheus,
Ab'y-la, Mount, or Columna, a covets Hippolyta's girdle, 144.
mountain in Morocco, near Ceu- Ad-me'tus, king of Thessaly, saved
ta, now called Jebel Musa or from death by Alcestis, 180, 181.
Ape's Hill, forming the North- A-do'nis, a youth beloved by
western extremity of the Afri- Aphrodite (Venus), and Proser-
can coast opposite Gibraltar {See pine; killed by a boar, 65-67.
Pillars of Hercules), 145. A-dras'tus, a king of Argos, 182.
A-ces'tes, son of a Trojan woman Ê'a-cus, son of Zeus (Jupiter)
who was sent by her father to and JEg'ma., renowned in all
Sicily, that she might not be de- Greece for his justice and piety,
voured by the monsters which 95.
infested the territory of Troy, Ê-a'a, Circe's island, visited by
162, 164, 264; city of, 283. Ulysses, 241.
A-ce'tes, Bacchanal, captured by -<E-e'tes, or iEeta, son of Helios
Pentheus, 164. (the Sun) and Perseis, and
A-cha'tes, faithful friend and com- father of Medea and Absyrtus,
panion of Mu&SlS, 281. 130, 131, 132, 137.
Ach-e-lo'us, river -god of the largest JE-ge'an Sea, 38, 73, 133.
river in —
Greece his Horn of iE-ge'us, king of Athens, 136, 150,
Plenty, 177-179. 151.
A-chil'les, the hero of the Iliad,
JE-gi'na, a rocky island in the mid-
son of Peleus and of the Ne-
dle of the Saronic gulf, 95.
reid Thetis, slain by Paris, 95,
Ê'gis, shield or breastplate of Jupi-
138, 173, 174, 208, 212, 213, 214,
ter and Minerva, 5, 109, 116.
216-228, 232, 233.
A'cis, youth loved by Galatea and Ê-gis'thus, murderer of Agamem-
slain by Polyphemus, 209-211. non, slain by Orestes, 234.
A-con'ti-us, a beautiful youth, who Trojan hero, son of An-
-#S-ne'as,
fell in love with Cydippe, the chises and Aphrodite (Venus),

daughter of a noble Athenian, and born on Mount Ida, reputed
121. first settler of Rome, 61, 213,
A-cris'i-us, Abas, king of
son of 221, 222, 223, 258-287.
Argos, grandson of Lynceus, the ^-ne'id, poem by Virgil, relating
great-grandson of Danaus, 116, the wanderings of Êneas from
202. Troy to Italy, 307.
372 INDEX AND DICTIONARY
-iÊ'o-lus, son of and the
Hellen husband, but rescued by Her-
nymph Orseis,represented in cules, 180, 181.
Homer as the happy ruler of the Al-ci'des (Hercules), 148, 149.
-(Eolian Islands, to whom Zeus Al-cin'o-us, Phaeacian king, 248,
had given dominion
over the 250, 252.
winds, 69, 75, 240, 261, 301. Al-cip'pe, daughter of Mars; carried
Ês'cu-la'pi-us, god of the medical offby Halirrhothius, 139.
art, 127, 154, 174, 179, 180, 218, Alc-me'na, wife of Jupiter, and
298. mother of Hercules, 143.
Ê'son, father of Jason, made young Al-dro-van'dus, dwarf guardian of
again by Medea, 130, 134-136. treasure, 354, 355, 356.
Ê-thi-o'pi-ans, inhabitants of the A-lec'to, one of the Furies, 9, 277.
country south Cf Egypt, 2, 118, Al-ex-an'der the Great, king of
207, 208. Macedonia, conqueror of Greece,
iE'thra, mother of Theseu9 by Egypt, Persia, Babylonia, and
Êgeus, 150, 151. India, 48.
Êt'na, volcano in Sicily, 43, 52, Al-fa'dur, a name for Odin, 331,
122, 180, 210. 349.
Ag'a-me'des, brother of Trophonius, Alf'heim, abode of the elves of
distinguished as an architect, 297, light, 348.
298. Al-phe'nor, son of Niobe, 113.
Ag'a-mem'non, son of Plisthenis Al-phe'us, river-god pursuing Are-
and grandson of Atreus, king of thusa, who escaped by being
Mycenae; although the chief com- changed to a fountain, 56, 57,
mander of the Greeks, is not the 144.
hero of the Iliad, and in chival- Al-thae'a,mother of Meleager, whom
rous spirit altogether inferior to she slew because he had in a
Achilles, 213, 216, 217, 219, 222, quarrel killed her brothers, thus
233. disgracing "the house of Thes-
A-ga've, daughter of Cadmus, wife tius," her father, 138-140.
of Echion, and mother of Pen- Am-al-the'a, nurse of the infant
theus, 164. Jupiter in Crete, 179.
A-ge'nor, father of Europa, Cad- A-ma'ta, wife of Latinus, driven
mus, Cilix, and Phoenix, 91, 223. mad by Alecto, 277.
Ag-la'i-a, one of the Graces, 8. Am'a-zons, mythical race of warlike
Ag'ni, Hindu god of fire, 321. women, 144-145, 153.
Ah'ri-man, the Evil Spirit in the
Am-bro'si-a, celestial food used by
dual system of Zoroaster, 318.
the gods, 3.
See Ormuzd.
Am'mon, Egyptian god of life, iden-
A'jax, son of Telamon, king of
tified by Romans with phases of
Salamis, and grandson of Êacus;
Jupiter, the father of gods, 123.
represented in the Iliad as second
Am-phi-a-ra'us, a great prophet and
only to' Achilles in bravery, 138,
hero at Argos, 182.
213, 217, 219, 221, 228.
Al'ba Lon'ga, city in Italy founded Am-phi'on, a musician, son of Jupi-
by son of ..Eneas-, 287. ter and Antiope {See Dirce),
Arber-ich, dwarf guardian of Rhine- 113, 192-193.
gold treasure of the Nibelungs, Am-phi-tri'te, wife of Neptune, 172,
354, 355, 356. 173.
Al-ces'tis, wife of Admetus, offered Am-phyr'sos, a small river in Thes-
herself as sacrifice to spare her saly, 180.
INDEX AND DICTIONARY 373
Am'pyx, assailant of Perseus, turned An-ti'o-pe, Amazonian queen, 153,

to stone by seeing Gorgon's head, 192, 194. See Dirce.
121. A-nu'bus, Egyptian god, conductor
Am-ri'ta, nectar giving immortality, of the dead to judgment, 293,
321. 294.
A'mun, 292.See Ammon. Ap'en-nines, 43.
Am'y-mo'ne, one of the fifty daugh- Aph-ro-di'te. See Venus, Dione, etc.
ters of Danaiis, and mother by A'pis, Egyptian bull-god of Mem-
Poseidon (Neptune) of Nauplius, phis, 295, 299.
the father of Palamedes, 144. A-pol'lo, god of music and song, 3,
An'ax-ar'e-te, a maiden of Cyprus, 5, 8, 13, 19, 20-23, 38, 47, 67-68,
who treated her lover Iphis with 104, 112, 113, 123, 127, 173, 174,
such haughtiness that he hanged 179, 180, 185, 196,
199, 206, 216,
himself at her door, 78, 79. 218, 220, 222, 223, 224, 225, 228,
An-ce'us, one of the Argonauts, 137. 232, 252, 259, 274, 301.
An-chi'ses, beloved by Aphrodite A-pol'lo Bel-ve-dere', famous antique
(Venus), by whom he became the statue in Vatican at Rome, 306.
father of ^neas, 258, 259, 265, A-pol'lo, Oracle of, 69, 81, 92, 259,
271, 272. 297.
An-drae'mon, husband of Dry ope; A-pol'lo, temple to, 157, 228, 314.
saw her changed into a tree, 64, Apples of the Hesperides, wedding
65. gifts to Juno, guarded by daugh-
An-drom'a-che, wife of Hector, 213, ters of Atlasand Hesperis, stolen
225, 260. by Atlas for Hercules, 145.
An-drom'e-da, daughter of King Aq'ui-lo, or Boreas, the North
Cephas, delivered from monster Wind, 176.
by Perseus, 118-120. A-rach'ne, a maiden skilled in
A-nem'o-ne, short-lived wind-flower, weaving, changed to a spider by
created by Veaus from the blood Minerva, for daring to compete
of the slain Adonis, 67. with her, 108-111.
An-ger'bo-de, giant prophetess, Ar-ca'di-a, a country in the middle
mother of Fenris, Hela, and the of Peloponnesus, surrounded on
Midgard Serpent, 344. all sides by mountains, 9, 34, 138,
An'gle-sey, a Northern British 280.
island, refuge of Druids fleeing Ar'ca-dy, star of, the Pole-star, 33.
from Romans, 362. Ar'cas, son of Jupiter and Callisto,
An-tae'us, giant Libya,
wrestler of 34.
killed by Hercules, who, finding Archer, constellation of the, 40.
him stronger when thrown to the A-re-op'a-gus, court of the, at Ath-
earth, lifted him into the air and ens, 235.
strangled him, 122, 146. A'res, called Mars by the Romans,
An-te'a, wife of jealous Proetus, 125. the Greek god of war, and one of
An'te-ros, deity avenging unrequited the great Olympian gods, 7.
love, brother of Eros (Cupid), 7. Ar-e-thu'sa, nymph
of Diana,
An'thor, a Greek, 285. changed to a fountain, 55-56, 58.
An-tig'o-ne, daughter of Êdipus, Ar'go, builder of the vessel of Ja-
Greek ideal of filial and sisterly son for the Argonautic expedi-
fidelity, 181-184. tion, 130, 132, 133.
An-til'o-chus, son of Nestor, 207, Ar'go-lis, city of the Nemeac
221. games, 155.
Argonauts, Jason's crew seeking A'thor, Egyptian deity, progenitor
the Golden Fleece, 130, 131, 137, of Isisand Osiris, 292.
144, 158, 176. A'thos, the mountainous peninsula,
Ar'gos, a kingdom in Greece, 182, also called Acte, which projects
234, 285, 289, 307. from Chalcidice in Macedonia, 43.
Ar'gus, of the hundred eyes, guard- At-lan'tis,according to an ancient
ian of Io, 29-31, 130, 133, 255, tradition, a great island west of
302. the Pillars of Hercules, in the
King Minos,
A-ri-ad'ne, daughter of ocean, opposite Mount Atlas,
who helped Theseus slay the 273.
Minotaur, 152, 156, 165. At'las, a Titan, who bore the heav-
A-rim'a-nes. See Ahriman. ens on his shoulders, as punish-
Ar'i-mas'pi-ans, one-eyed people of ment for opposing the gods; one
Syria, 129. otf the sons of Iapetus, 5, 44, 117-
A-ri'on, famous musician, whom 118, 146, 149, 206.

sailors cast into the sea to rob At'las, Mount, general name far
him, but whose lyric song charmed range in northern Africa, 145.
the dolphins, one of which bore At'ro-pos, one of the Fates (which
him safely to land, 195-198. See), 9.
the bee-keeper, in love

Ar-is-tae'us, At'ti-ca, a state in ancient Greece,
with Eurydice, 185, 189-191. 153, 154, 158.
Ar'te-mis. See Diana. Aud-hum'bla, the cow from which
A'runs, an Etruscan who killed Ca- the giantYmir was nursed. Her
milla, 286. milk was frost melted into rain-
As'gard, home of the Northern drops, 329.
gods, 330, 345. Au-ge'an stables, cleansed by Her-
A'sia, 152, 161. cules, 144.
As'ke, the first man, made from an Au-ge'as, king of Elis, 144.
ash-tree, 329. Au-gus'tan age, reign of Roman
As-trae'a, goddess of justice, daugh- Emperor Augustus Caesar, famed
ter of Astraeus and Eos, 15. for many
great authors, 308.
As-ty'a-ges, an assailant of Perseus, Au-gus'tus, the first imperial Caesar,
121. who ruled the Roman Empire
A-su'ras, opponents of the Bramin- 31 B.C.— 14 a.d., 11, 308.
ical gods, 321. Au'lis, port in Boeotia, meeting-
At-a-lan'ta, beautiful daughter of place of Greek expedition against
King of and won in
Icaria, loved Troy, 213.
a foot-race by Hippomenes, 138- Au-ro'ra, identical with Eos, god-
140, 141-142. dess of the dawn, 23, 26, 53, 72,
A'te, the goddess of infatuation, 207-208.
mischief and guilt, 222. Au-ro'ra Bo-re-a'lis, splendid noc-
Ath'a-mas, son of iEolus and Ena- turnal luminosity in northern sky,
rete, and king of Orchomenus, in called Northern Lights, probably
Boeotia, 129, See Ino.
130, 174. electrical, 331.
A-the'ne, tutelary goddess of Ath- Au'tumn, attendant of Phoebus, the
ens; the same as Minerva, 152. Sun, 39.
Ath'ens, the capital of Attica, about Av'a-tar, name for any of the
four miles from the sea, between earthly incarnations of Vishnu,
the small rivers Cephissus and the Preserver (Hindu god), 321.
Ilissus, 95, 107, 136, 137, 150, Av'en-tine, Mount, one of the
151, 153, 154, 235, 307. Seven Hills of Rome, 146.
A-ver'nus, a miasmatic lake close to Bo'na De'a, a Roman divinity of

the promontory between Cumae fertility, 10 n.
and Puteoli, filling the crater of Bo-o'tes, also called Areas, son of
an extinct volcano, by the an- Jupiter and Calisto, changed to
cients thought to be the entrance constellation of Ursa Major, 42.
to the infernal regions, 265, Bo're-as, North wind, son of Êolus
266. and Aurora, 176, 261.
Av-i-cen'na, celebrated Arabian Bos'po-rus (Bosphorus), the Cow-
physician and philosopher, 313. ford, named for Io (which See),
when as a heifer she crossed that
strait, 31.
B Brag'i,Norse god of poetry, 332.
Brah'ma, the Creator, chief god of
Ba'al, king of Tyre, 358. Hindu religion, 320-325.
Bab-y-lo'ni-an River, dried up when Brazen Age, 14.
Phaeton drove the sun-chariot, Bri-a're-us, hundred-armed giant,
44. 52, 123, 267.
Bac'cha-na'li-a, a feast to Bacchus Bri-se'is, captive maid belonging to
that was permitted occur but
to Achilles, 216.
once in three years; attended by Brun'hild, leader of the Valkyrie,
most shameless orgies, 161. 352, 354-357.
Bac'cha-nals, devotees and festal Bud'dha, called The Enlightened,
dancers of Bacchus, 161, 164. reformer of Brahmanism, deified
Bac'chus (Dionysus), god of wine teacher of self-abnegation, virtue,
and revelry, 8, 10, 46-47, 123, reincarnation, Karma (inevitable
160-165, 179, 187. sequence of every act), and Nir-
Bal'dur, son of Odin, and repre- vana (beatific absorption into the
senting in Norse mythology the Divine), lived about 562-482 B.C.,
sun-god, 343-347. 321, 325-326.
Bards, minstrels of Welsh Druids, Bull, constellation, 40.
361. Byb'los, in Egypt, 294.
Bas'i-lisk. See Cockatrice. Byr'sa, original site of Carthage,
Bau'cis, wife of Philemon, visited 262.
by Jupiter and Mercury, 49-51.
Be'al, Druids' god of life, 358. C
Bear (Constellation of), 3.
Bel-ler'e-phon, demigod, conqueror Ca'cus, gigantic son of Vulcan,
of the Chimsera, 125-126. slain by Hercules, whose captured
Bel-lo'na, the Roman goddess of cattle he stole, 146, 147.
war, represented as the sister or Cad'mus, son of Agenor, king of
wife of Mars, 10. Phoenicia, and of Telephassa,
Bel'tane, Druidical fire-festival, 359. and brother of Europa, who, seek-
Be'lus, son of Poseidon (Neptune) ing his sister, carried off by Jupi-
and Libya or Eurynome, twin- ter, had strange adventures sow- —
brother of Agenor, 262. ing in the ground teeth of a
Ber'o-e, nurse of Semele, 160. dragon he had killed, which
Bi'frost, rainbow bridge between sprang up armed men who slew
the earth and Asgard (which each other, all but five, who
See), 330, 349. helped Cadmus to found the city
Bce-o'ti-a, state in ancient Greece, of Thebes, 34, 91-94, 131, 174,
capital city Thebes, 213, 297. 182, 301.
Ca-du'ce-us, Mercury's staff, 8, 49. Castor a horseman, Pollux a
Ca-i'cus, a Greek river, 44.' boxer (See Gemini), 133, 158-159,
Cairns, Druidical stone-piles, 359, 202, 203.
365. Cau'ca-sus Mount, 18, 43, 170.
Cal'ais, French town facing Eng- Ca-ys'ter, ancient river, 44.
land, 133, 176. Ce-bri'o-nes, Hector's charioteer,
Cal'chas, wisest soothsayer among 220.
the Greeks at Troy, 214, 217, Ce'crops, first king of Athens, 107.
230. Ce-les'tials, gods of classic mythol-
Cal-li'o-pe, one of the nine Muses ogy, 3.
(which See), 8, 185. Ce'le-ue, shepherd who sheltered
Cal-lis'to, an Arcadian nymph, Ceres, seeking Proserpine, and
mother of Areas (See
Bootes), whose infant son Triptolemus was
changed by Jupiter to constella- in gratitude made great by Ce-
tion Ursa Minor, 31-34. res, 54, 57.
Cal'pe, a mountain in the south Cel-li'ni, Benvenuto, famous Ital-
of Spain, on the strait between ian sculptor and artificer in
the Atlantic and Mediterranean, metals, 316.
now Rock of Gibraltar, 145. Cen'taurs, originallyancient an
home of Meleager,
Cal'y-don, 138, race, inhabiting Mount
Pelion in
140. Thessaly; in later accounts rep-
Ca-lyp'so, queen of Island of Ogyg- resented as half horses and half
ia, where Ulysses was wrecked men, and said to have been the
and held seven years, 245-247. offspring of Ixion and a cloud,
Ca-lyp'so Island, 245. 127-128, 166.
Ca-me'nae, prophetic nymphs, be- Ceph'a-lus, husband of beautiful
longing to the religion of ancient but jealous Procris, 26-28, 95.
Italy, 175. Ce'phe-us, King of Ethiopians,
Ca-mil'la, Volscian maiden, huntress father of Andromeda, 118, 120.
and Amazonian warrior, favorite Ceph'i-sus, a Grecian stream, 92.
of Diana, 278, 286, 287. Cer'be-rus,three-headed dog that
Cap'a-neus, husband of Evadne, guarded the entrance to Hades;
slain by Jupiter for disobedience, called a son of Typhaon and
183. Echidna, 88, 147, 196, 268.
Car'thage, African city, home of Ce'res (See Demeter), 8, 53, 54.
Dido (which See), 262. 57, 86, 169.
Cas-san'dra, daughter of Priam and Ces'tus, the girdle of Venus, 6, 218.
Hecuba, and twin-sister of Hele-
Cey-lon', 326.
nus, a prophetess, who foretold
Ce'yx, King of Thessaly (See Hal-
the coming of the Greeks but was
cyone), 69-75.
not believed, 232.
Cas-si-o-pe'ia, mother of Androm- Cha'os, original Confusion, personi-
fied by Greeks as most ancient of
eda, 118, 120.
Cas-ta'li-a, fountain of Parnassus, the gods, 4, 12, 45.
giving inspiration to Oracular Cha'ron, son of Erebos, conveyed
priestess named Pythia, 297. in boat the shades of the
his
Cas-ta'lian Cave, oracle of Apollo, dead across the rivers of the

92. lower world, 88, 267.
Castes (India), 323-325. Cha-ryb'dis, whirlpool near the
Cas'tor and Pol'lux the — Dioscu- coast of Sicily, 243-245, 261, 303,
ri, sons of Jupiter and Leda,— 304, 322. See Scylla.
Chi-mae'ra, a fire-breathing monster, Cor'inth, city and isthmus of, 136,

the fore part of whose body was 151, 155, 195, 197, 199.
that of a lion, the hind part Cor-nu-co'pi-a of Achelous, 179.
that of a dragon, and the middle Cor-y-ban'tes, priests of Cybele, or
that of a goat, slain by Belle- Rhea, in Phrygia, who celebrated
rophon, 122, 124-126, 267. her worship with dances, to the
Chi'na, 326; Lamas (priests) of, 327. sound of the drum and the cym-
Chi'os, island in the Grecian archi- bal, 143.
pelago, 205. Crab, constellation, 41.
Chi'ron, wisest of all the Centaurs, Cranes and their enemies, the Pyg-
son Cronos
of (Saturn) and mies, 128; of Ibycus, 198-201.
Philyra, on Mount Pelion,
lived Cre'on, king of Thebes, 183.
instructor of Grecian heroes, 127, Crete, one of the largest islands of
128, 133, 173. the Mediterranean Sea, lying
Chry-se'is, Trojan maid, taken by south of the Cyclades, 95, 100,
Agamemnon, 216. 109, 152, 259.
Chry'ses, priest of Apollo, father Cre-u'sa, daughter of Priam, wife
of Chryseis, 216. of iEneas, 136.
Ci-co'ni-ans, inhabitants of Isma- Croc'a-le, a nymph of Diana, 34.
rus, visited by Ulysses, 236. Crom'lech, Druidical altar, 359.
Cim-me'ri-a, a land of darkness, Cro'nos, 9, 301. See Saturn.
31, 71. Cro-to'na, city of Italy, 288, 292.
Ci'mon, Athenian general, 154. Cul-dees', followers of St. Columba,
Cir'ce, sorceress, sister of Êetes, 363-364.
60, 61, 117, 241-243. Cu-ms'an Sibyl, seeress of Cumae,
Ci-thae'ron, Mount, scene of Bacchic consulted by Êneas, sold Sibyl-
worship, 164, 192. line books to Tarquin, 275.
Cli'o, one of the Muses (which Cu'pid, child of Venus and god of
See), 8. love, 7, 20, 53, 65, 80-90, 193.
Clo'tho, one of the Fates (which Cy'a-ne, river, opposed Pluto's pas-
See), 9.
sage to Hades, 53, 54, 55.
Clym'e-ne, an ocean nymph, 38-39.
Cyb'e-le (Rhea, which See), 11, 142.
Cly-tem-nes'tra, wife of Agamem-
Cy-clo'pes, creatures with circular
non, killed by Orestes, 234.
eyes, of whom Homer speaks as
Cly'tie, a water-nymph, in love with
a gigantic and lawless race of
Apollo, 104-105.
shepherds in Sicily, who de-
Cni'dos, ancient city of Asia Minor, voured human beings; they helped
seat of worship of Aphrodite Vulcan to forge the thunderbolts
(Venus), 66. of Zeus under Êtna, 122, 123,
Cock'a-trice (or Basilisk), called 180, 205, 209, 210, 237-240, 247,
King of Serpents, supposed to 260.
kill with its look, 312-314. Cy'no-sure (Dog's tail), the Pole-
Co-cy'tus, a river of Hades, 267. star, at tail of Constellation Ursa
Col'chis, a kingdom east of the Minor, 33.
Black Sea, 130, 131, 137. Cyn'thi-an mountain top, birthplace
Col'o-phon, one of the seven cities of Artemis (Diana) and Apollo,
claiming the birth of Homer, 307. 112.
Co-lum'ba, St., an Irish Christian Cy'prus, island off the coast of
missionary to Druidical parts of Syria, sacred to Aphrodite, 6, 63,
Scotland, 362-363. 66, 78, 142, 233.
Cy-re'ne, a nymph, mother of Deu-ca'li-on, king of Thessaly, who
Aristseus, 189-190. with his wife Pyrrha were the
only pair surviving a deluge sent
by Zeus, 16-17, 301.
D Di'a, island of, 162.
Di-a'na (Artemis), goddess of the
Dae'da-lus, architect of the Cretan
moon and of the chase, daughter
Labyrinth; inventor of sails, 152,
of Jupiter and Latona, 6, 21, 26,
156-157.
30, 34-36, 38, 53, 56, 101, 112,
Da'lai La'ma, chief pontiff of
123, 127, 134 n., 138, 139, 141,
Thibet, 327.
154, 204, 206, 214, 235, 259, 278,
Dan'a-e, mother of Perseus by
286.
Jupiter, 202.
Di-a'na of the Hind, antique sculp-
Da-na'i-des, daughters of
the fifty
ture in the Louvre, Paris, 306.
Danaus, king of Argos, who were
Di-a'na, temple of, 314.
betrothed to the fifty sons of
Dic'tys, a sailor, 162, 202.
Êgyptus, but were commanded
Di'do, queen of Tyre and Carthage,
by their father to slay each her
entertained the shipwrecked
own husband on the marriage iEneas, 262, 263, 268.
night, 186.
Di-o-me'de, Greek hero during Tro-
Dan'a-us {See Danaides), 186.
jan War, 213, 219, 229, 232.
Daph'ne, maiden loved by Apollo,
Di-o'ne, female Titan, mother of
and changed into a laurel tree,
Zeus, of Aphrodite (Venus), 6.
20-23.
Di-o-ny'sus. See Bacchus.
Dar-da-nelles', ancient Hellespont
Di-os-cu'ri, the Twins {See Castor
(which See), 129.
and Pollux), 158.
Dar'da-nus, progenitor of the Tro-
Dir'ce, wife of Lycus, king of
jan kings, 206, 259.
Thebes, who ordered Amphion
Dawn, 3, 5, 41. See Aurora.
and Zethus to tie Antiope to a
Day, an attendant on Phoebus, the
wild bull, but they, learning An-
Sun, 39.
tiope to be their mother, so
Day-star (Hesperus), 41, 69, 71.
treated Dirce herself, 192.
Death, 181, 220, 266. See Hela.
Dis. See Pluto.
De-ipb/o-bus, son of Priam and Hec-
Dis'cord, apple of, 212. See Eris.
uba, the bravest brother of Paris,
Dis-cor'di-a, 266. See Eris.
213, 224.
Do-do'na, site of an oracle of Zeus
De'ja-ni'ra, wife of Hercules, 147,
(Jupiter), 296.
177, 179.
Dolphin, 196.
De'los, floating island, birthplace of
Dor'ce-us, a dog of Diana, 35.
Apollo and Diana, 38, 157, 162,
Do'ris, wife of Nereus, 44, 173.
259.
Drag'on's teeth sown by Cadmus,
Del'phi, shrine of Apollo, famed
301.
for its oracles, 1, 123, 155, 234,
Dru'ids, ancient Celtic priests, 358-
235, 297, 298.
362.
Del'phos, 21. Dry'-a-des (or Dryads), 169. See
De-me'ter, Greek goddess of mar- Wood-nymphs.
riage and human fertility; identi- Dry'o-pe, changed to a lotus plant,
fied by Romans with Ceres for plucking a lotus —enchanted
(which See), 8. form of the nymph Lotis, 64-65.
De-mod'o-cus, bard of Alcinous, Dwarfs in Wagner's Nibelungen
king of the Phaeacians, 202, 252. Ring, 354.
E dence of the shades of the

blessed, 196, 269, 272, 273.
Earth (Gaea), 4, 5, 44; goddess of Em'bla, the first woman, 329.
the, 145, 297. En-cel'a-dus, giant defeated by Ju-
Ech'o, nymph of Diana, shunned by piter, 52, 122.
Narcissus, faded to nothing but a En-dym'i-on, a beautiful youth be-
voice, 101-103. loved by Diana, 61, 204.
Eck'len-lied, the, 354. En'na, vale of, home of Proserpine,
Ed'das, Norse mythological records, 53, 58.
329, 348, 351, 354. Epi-dau'rus, a town in Argolis, on
E-ge'ri-a, nymph of the Fountain, the Saronic gulf; chief seat of
154, 175. the worship of JEsculapius, whose
Egypt, 123, 163, 233, 296. temple was situated near the
Eis-tedd'fod, session of Welsh bards town, 94, 95, 151, 298.
and minstrels, 361. Ep-i-me'theus, son of Iapetus; hus-
E-lec'tra, the lost one of the band of Pandora; with his brother
Pleiades (which See) also, sis- ;
Prometheus took part in creation
ter of Orestes (which See), 206, of man, 13, 18.
234, 235. E-pi'rus, country to the west ot
Mysteries, instituted
El-eu-sin'i-an Thessaly, lying along the Adriatic
by Ceres, and calculated to Sea, 260, 292.
awaken feelings of piety and a E-po'pe-us, a sailor, 162.
cheerful hope of better life in Er'a-to, one of the Muses (which
the future, 57. See), 8.
Grecian city, 54, 57.

E-leu'sis, Er'e-bus, son of Chaos; region of
El'gin Marbles, Greek sculptures darkness, entrance to Hades, 4,
from the Parthenon of Athens, 56, 88, 153, 187, 277.
now in British Museum, London, E-rid'a-nus, river, 45.
placed there by Lord Elgin, 155. E-ri'nys (pi. E-rin'ny-es), one of
E'lis, ancient Greek city, 55, 144, the Furies (which See), 9, 235.
155. sister of Polynices,
Er'i-phy'le s
El'li, old the one successful
age; bribed to decide on war, in which
wrestler against Thor, 341. her husband was slain, 182, 183.
Elves, spiritual beings, of many E'ris (Discordia), goddess of dis-
powers and dispositions some — cord. At the wedding of Peleus
evil, some good, 348. and Thetis, Eris being uninvited
El-vid'nir, the hall of Hela (which threw into the gathering an apple
See), 333. "For the Fairest," which was
E-lys'i-an Fields, the land of the claimed by Hera (Juno), Aphro-
blest, 2. dite (Venus) and Athena (Mi-
E-lys'i-an Plain, whither the fa- nerva). Paris, being called upon
vored of the gods were taken for judgment, awarded it to Aph-
without death, 2. rodite, 211.
E-lys'i-um, a happy land, where Er-i-sich'thon, an unbeliever, pun-
there is neither snow, nor cold, ished by famine, 167, 169-171,
nor rain. Hither favored heroes, 177.
like Menelaus, pass without E'ros. See Cupid.
dying, and live happy under the Er'y-the'ia, island, 145, 146.
rule of Rhadamanthus. In the E'ryx, a mount, haunt of Venus,
Latin poets Elysium is part of 53.
the lower world, and the resi- E-se'pus, river in Paphlagonia, 208.
E-te'o-cles, son of CEdipus and E-van'der, Arcadian chief, befriend-
Jocasta, 182, 183. ing Êneas in Italy, 279-281, 285.
E-trus'cans, ancient people of Italy, Eve, 5, 17, 301.
281.
Et'zel, king of the Huns, 353.
Eu-bo'ic Sea, where Hercules threw F
Lichas, who brought him the
poisoned shirt of Nessus, 148. Faf'ner, a giant turned dragon,
Eu-mae'us, swineherd of Êneas, 254, treasure-stealer ;by the Solar The-
257. ory simply the Darkness who
Eu-men'i-des, also called Erinnyes, steals the day, 354, 355, 356.
and by the Romans Furiae or Di- Fam'ine, 170.

rase, the Avenging Deities, 201, Fa'solt, a giant, brother of Fafner,
234. See Furies. and killed by him, 354.
Eu-phor'bus, a Trojan, killed by "Fas'ti," Ovid's, a mythological
Menelaus, 289. poetic calendar, 309.
Eu-phros'y-ne, one of the Graces Fates, the three, described as
(which See), 8.
Eu-ro'pa, daughter of the Phoeni-
daughters of Night to indicate —
the darkness and obscurity of
cian king Agenor, by Zeus the
mother of Minos, Rhadamanthus,
human —or
of Zeus and
destiny
Themis, "daughters of
that is,
and Sarpedon, 91, 109. the just heavens;" they were
Eu'rus, the East wind, 176. Clo'tho, who spun the thread of
Eu-ry'a-lus, a gallant Trojan sol- Lach'e-sis, who held the
life;
dier, who with Nisus entered the
thread and fixed its length, and
Grecian camp, both being slain, At'ro-pos, who cut it off, 9, 56,
282, 283, 284. 67, 170, 180, 181.
Eu-ryd'i-ce, wife of Orpheus, who,
Fauns, cheerful sylvan deities, rep-
fleeing from an admirer, was
resented in human form, with
killed by a snake and borne to
small horns, pointed ears, and
Tartarus, where Orpheus sought
sometimes goat's tail, 10, 76.
her and was permitted to bring
Fau'nus, son of Picus, grandson of
her to earth if he would not look
Saturnus, and father of Latiaus,
back at her following him; but
worshipped as the protecting
he did, and she returned to the
deity of agriculture and of shep-
Shades, 185-188, 191, 196.
herds, and also as a giver of ora-
Eu-ryl'o-chus, a companion of
cles, 10, 36, 166, 209, 276.
Ulysses, 241.
Eu-ryn'o-me, female Titan, wife of
Fa-vo'ni-us, the West wind, 176.
Fear, 266.
Ophion (which See), 4, 5.
Eu-rys'theus, taskmaster of Her- Fen'ris, a wolf, the son of Loki
cules, 128, 143-147. the Evil Principle of Scandi-
Eu-ryt'i-on, a Centaur {See Hippo- navia; supposed to have perso-
damia), 127, 145. nated the element of fire, de-
Eu-ter'pe, Muse who presided over structive except when chained,
music, 8. 332, 333, 344, 349.
Eux'ine Sea, 2, 130. Fen-sa'lir,Freya's palace, called
E-vad'ne, wife of Capaneus, who the Hall of the Sea, where were
flung herself upon his funeral brought together lovers, hus-
pile and perished with him, 182, bands, and wives who had been
183. separated by death, 344.
Fire-worshippers, of ancient Persia, Games, national athletic contests in

318-320. See Par sees. —
Greece Olympian, at Olympia;
Flo'ra, Roman goddess of flowers Pythian, near Delphi, seat of
and spring, 10, 176. Apollo's oracle; Isthmian, on the
Floss-hil'da, one of the Rhine Corinthian Isthmus; Nemean, at
daughters (which See), 354. Nemea in Argolis, 155.
Fortunate Fields, 2. Gan'ges, river in India, 44.
Fortunate Islands {See Elysian Gan'y-mede, the most beautiful of
Plain), 273. all mortals; carried off to Olym-
Fo'rum, market-place and open pus that he might fill the cup of
square for public meetings in Zeus and live among the immor-
Rome, surrounded by court- tal gods, 150.
houses, palaces, temples, etc., 281. Gau'ta-ma, Prince, the Buddha
Fre'ki, one of Odin's two wolves, (which See), 325.
Gem'i-ni {See Castor), constellation
330.
created by Jupiter from the twin-
Frey, or Freyr, god of the sun,
brothers after death, 158.
332, 336, 347, 348, 349.
Gen'ghis Khan, Tartar conqueror,
Frey'a, Norse goddess of music,
327.
spring, and flowers, 332, 334, 335,
Ge'ni-us, in Roman
belief, the pro-
347, 351, 355.
tective Spirit each individual
of
Frick'a, goddess of marriage, 355. man, 11. See Juno,
Frig'ga, goddess who presided over r'da, wife of Frey, 336.
smiling nature, sending sunshine, Ge'ri, one of Odin's two wolves,
rain, and harvest, 344, 345, 347, 330.
351, 352. Ge'ry-on, a three-bodied monster,
Froh, one of the Norse gods, 354. 145.
Frost Giants, 349. Gi-al'larHorn, the trumpet that
Fu'ries (Erinnyes), the three re- Heimdal will blow at the judg-
tributive spirits who punished ment day, 349.
crime, represented as snaky-haired Gi'ants,beings of monstrous size
old women, named Alecto, Me- and of fearful countenances; rep-
gaera, and Tisiphone, 9, 186, 198, resented as in constant opposition
199, 266, 269, 270, 277. to the gods, 122-123; in Wagner's
Nibelungen Ring, 354.
Gi'bich-ung race, ancestors of Al-
berich, 356, 357.
G
Gi-bral'tar, great rock and town at
southwest corner of Spain {See
Gae'a, of Ge, called Tellus by the Pillars of Hercules), 145.
Romans, the personification of the Glau-cus, a fisherman, loving Scylla,
earth; described as the first being
59-61, 174, 213.
that sprang from Chaos, and gave
Gleip'nir, magical chain on the wolf
birth to Uranus (Heaven) and Fenris, 333.
Pontus (Sea), 1-2. Gods of the ancient myths, 12, 354.
Gal-a-te'a, a Nereid or sea-nymph, Golden Age, 9, 14, 301.
173, 197. Golden Apples, 117-118, 145-146.
carved and beloved
Gal-a-te'a, statue Golden Fleece, of ram used for
by Pygmalion, 209-211. escape of children of Athamas,
Ga'len, Greek physician and philo- named Helle and Phryxus (which
sophical writer, 313. See) ; after sacrifice of ram to
Jupiter, was guarded by
fleece H
sleeplessdragon and gained by
Jason and Argonauts (which See; Ha'des, originally the god of the
also Helle), 129-133, 134. —
nether world the name later used
Gor'di-an Knot, tying up in temple to designate the gloomy subter-
the wagon of Gordius, he who ranean land of th"i dead, 147.
could untie it being destined to Hse'mon, son of Creon of Thebes,
be lord of Asia; it was cut by and lover of Antigone, 183.
Alexander the Great, 48. Hsemo'ni-an city, 73.
Gor'di-us, a countryman who, ar- Hae'mus, Mount, northern boundary
riving in Phrygia in a wagon, was of Thrace, 31, 43.
made king by the people, thus in- Ha'gan, a principal character in the
terpreting an oracle, 48. Nibelungen Lied, slayer of Sieg-
Gor'gons, three monstrous females, fried, 352, 353, 354, 356, 357.
with huge teeth, brazen claws and Hal-cy'o-ne, daughter of Êneas,
snakes for hair, sight of whom and the beloved wife of Ceyx,
turned beholders to stone; Me- who, when he was drowned, flew
dusa, the most famous, slain by and the pity-
to his floating body,
Perseus (which See), 115. ing gods changed them both to ,
Graces, three goddesses who en- birds (kingfishers), who nest at

hanced the enjoyments of life sea during a certain calm week
by refinement and gentleness; in winter ("halcyon weather"),
they were Aglaia (brilliance), 69-76.
Euphrosyne (joy), and Thalia Ham-a-dry'ads, or wood-
tree-
(bloom), 4, 8. nymphs, See Nymphs.
76, 172.
Grae'ae, three gray-haired female Har-mo'ni-a, daughter of Mars and
watchers for the Gorgons, with Venus, wife of Cadmus, 94, 182.
one movable eye and one tooth Har'pies, monsters, with head and
between the three, 115-116. bust of woman, but wings, legs
Grand La'ma, Buddhist pontiff in and tail of birds, seizing souls of
Thibet, 327. the wicked, or punishing evil-
Great Bear, constellation, 32-33, doers by greedily snatching or
36, 42. defiling their food, 176, 259-260,
Griefs, 266. 276.
Gry'phon a fabulous ani-
(griffin), Har-poc'ra-tes, Egyptian god, Horus,
mal, with the body of a lion and 293.
the head and wings of an eagle, Heaven, 4.
dwelling the Rhipaean moun-
in He'be, daughter of Juno, cupbearer
tains, between the Hyperboreans to the gods, 3, 135, 149, 150.
and the one-eyed Arimaspians and He'brus, ancient name of river
guarding the gold of the North, Maritzka, 187.
128. Hec'a-te, a mighty and formidable
Gue'bers, Persian fire-worshippers, divinity, supposed to send at night
320. allkinds of demons and terrible
Gul-lin-burs'ti, the boar drawing phantoms from the lower world,
Frey's car, 347. 131, 134, 135, 266.
Gull'topp, Heimdall's horse, 347. Hec'tor, son of Priam and cham-
Gun'ther, Burgundian king, brother pion of Troy, 213, 214, 217, 218,
of Kriemhild, 352, 356, 357. 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 227, 260.
Gu'trune. half-sister to Hagen, 356. Hec'u-ba, wife of Priam, king of
Gy'oll, river, 345. Troy, to whom she bore Hector,
Paris, and many other children, Her'cu-les, Pillars of {See Pillars

223, 224, 226, 232. of Hercules), 145.
Heid'run, she-goat, furnishing mead Her'cu-les, the twelve labors of,
for slain heroes in Valhalla, 331. 144-147.
Heim'dall, watchman of the gods, Her'mes (Mercury), messenger of
332, 347, 349. the gods, deity of commerce, sci-
Hel, the world of Scandi-
lower ence, eloquence, trickery, theft,
navia, which Were consigned
to and skill generally, 18, 49-51, 293.
those who had not died in battle, Her-mi'o-ne,daughter of Menelaus
345. and Helen, 233.
He'la (Death), the daughter of Lo- Her'mod, the nimble, son of Odin,
ki and the mistress of the Scan- 345.
dinavian Hel, 332, 344, 345, 349. He'ro, a priestess of Venus, beloved
Hel'en, daughter of Jupiter and of Leander (which See), 105-106.
Leda; wife of Menelaus; carried He-rod'o-tus, Greek historian, 307.
off by Paris and cause of the He'si-od, Greek poet, 273.
Trojan War, 77, 153, 158, 212, Hes-pe'ri-a, ancient name for Italy,
223, 229, 232, 233. 259.
Hel'e-nus, son of Priam and Hec- Hes-per'i-des {See Apples of the
uba, celebrated for his prophetic Hesperides), 46, 145.
powers, 260, 261. Hes'pe-rus, the evening star (also
He-li'a-des, sisters of Phaeton, 45. called Day-Star, p. 41), 53, 69,
Hel'i-con, Mount,
Greece, resi-
in 145.
dence of Apollo and the Muses, Hes'ti-a,called Vesta by the Ro-
with fountains of poetic inspira- mans, the goddess of the hearth,
tion, Aganippe and Hippocrene, 10.
43, 124. Hil'de-brand, German magician and
He-li-op'o-lis, city of the Sun, in champion, 353.
Egypt, 311. Hin'du mythology, 320-321.
Hel'las, Greece, 2. Hin'du triad, Brahma, Vishnu, and
Hel'le, daughter of Thessalian King Siva (which See), 320-323.
Athamas, who
escaping from Hip-po-cre'ne {See Helicon), 124.
cruel father with her brother Hip-po-da-mi'a, wife of Pirithous, at
Phryxus, on ram with golden whose wedding the Centaurs of-
fleece, fell into the sea-strait since fered violence to the bride, caus-
named for her {See Golden ing a great battle, 127.
Fleece), 129. Hip-pol'y-ta, Queen of the Amazons,
narrow strait between
Hel'les-pont, 145, 154.
Europe and Asia Minor, named Hip-pol'y-tus, son of Thesus, 154.
for Helle (which See), 106, 129. Hip-pom'e-nes, who won Ataianta in
He-phaes'tos, See Vulcan.
6. foot-race, beguilingwith her
He'ra, called Juno by the Romans, golden apples thrown for her to
a daughter of Cronos (Saturn) pick up, 66, 141-142.
and Rhea, and sister and wife of Ho'dur, blind man, who, fooled by
Jupiter, 6. See Juno. Loki, threw a mistletoe-twig at
Her'cu-les, athletic hero, son of Baldur, killing him, 344-345.
Jupiter Alcmena, achieved
and Ho'mer, the blind poet of Greece,
twelve vast labors and many fa- about 850 B.C., 202, 212, 216, 273,
mous deeds, 128, 130, 133, 143- 306-307.
149, 150, 151, 153, 165, 177, 178, Hope {See Pandora), 14.
179, 181, 193, 229, 279, 301. Ho'rae. See Hours.
Ho'rus, Egyptian god of the sun, I-ca'ri-a, island of the JEgean Sea,
293. one of the Sporades, 157.
Hours, 39, 41, 208. I-ca'ri-us, Spartan prince, father of
Hring'ham, Baldur's ship, 347. Penelope, 184.
Hu'gi, who beat Thialfi in foot- Ic'a-rus, son of Daedalus, he flew
races, 340. too near the sun with artificial
Hu'gin, one of Odin's two ravens, wings, and, the wax melting, he
330. fell into the sea, 156, 157.
Hun'ger, 266, 333. Ice'land, 351.
Hun'ding, husband of Sieglinda, Ice-los, attendant of Morpheus, 72.
355. I-col'um-kill. See Iona.
Hy-a-cin'thus, a youth, beloved by I'da, Mount, a Trojan hill, 43, 150,
Apollo, and accidentally killed by 211.
him, changed in death to the I-dae'us, a Trojan herald, 226.
flower, hyacinth, 67-68, 228. I'das, son of Aphareus and Arene,
Hy'a-des, Nyssean nymphs, nurses and brother of Lynceus, 158.
of infant Bacchus, rewarded by I- du'na, wife of Bragi, 332.
being placed as cluster of stars in Il'i-ad,epic poem of the Trojan

the heavens, 160. War, by Homer, 216, 227.
Hy'a-le, a nymph of Diana, 34. H'i-o'heus, a son of Niobe (which
Hy'dra, nine-headed monster slain See), 113.
by Hercules, 144, 149, 267, 269. Il'i-um. See Troy.
Hy-ge'i-a, goddess of health, daugh- Adriatic countries north
II- lyr'i-a,
ter of -(Esculapius, 174. of Greece, 31, 94.

Hy'las, a youth detained by nymphs In'a-chus, son of Oceanus and Te-
of spring where he sought water, thys, and father of Phoroneus
133. and Io; also first king of Argos,
Hy'men, the god of marriage, imag- and said to have given his name
ined as a handsome youth and in- to the river Inachus, 29.
voked in bridal songs, 20, 185. In'dia, 39, 161.
Hy-met'tus, mountain in Attica, In'dra, Hindu god of heaven, thun-
near Athens, celebrated for its der, lightning, storm and rain,
marble and its honey, 63. 320.
Hy-per-bo're-ans, people of the far Infernal regions, 266-273.
North, 2. I'no, wife of Athamas, fleeing from
Hy-pe'ri-on, a Titan, son of Ura- whom with infant son she sprang
nus and Ge, and father of He- into the sea and was changed to
lios, Selene, and Eos, 4, 5; cattle Leucothea (which See), 94, 164,
of, 244. 174.
Hy-ri-e'us, king in Greece, 297. I'o, changed to a heifer by Jupiter,
29-31, 302.
I-ob'a-tes, King of Lycia, 124, 125.
I I-o-la'us, servant of Hercules, 144.
I-ol'cos, 133.
I-ap'e-tus, a Titan, son of Uranus I'o-le, sister of Dryope, 64-65.
and and father of Atlas,
Ge, I-o'na, or Icolmkill, a small north-
Prometheus, Epimetheus, and Me- ern near Scotland, where
island
noetius, 4, 18. St. Columba founded a missionary
I-a'si-us, father of Atalanta, 138. monastery (563 a.d.), 362-366.
Ib'y-cus, a poet, story of, and the I-o'ni-a, coast of Asia Minor, 69.
cranes, 198-201. I-o'ni-an Sea, 31.
Iph-i-ge-ni'a,daughter of Agamem- Jove (Zeus), chietf god of Roman

non, offered as a sacrifice but and Grecian mythology, 5, 9, 18,
carried away by Diana, 214, 235. 53, 56, 80, 98, 100, 118, 119, 172,
I'phis, died for love of Anaxarete, 177, 183, 210, 216, 220, 221, 239,
78. 245, 268. See Jupiter.
Iph'i-tus, friend of Hercules, killed Jug'ger-naut, Hindu deity, 322.
by him, 147. Ju'no, the particular guardian spirit
Ire'land, 362. of each woman (See Genius), 11.
I'ris,goddess of the rainbow, mes- Ju'no, wife of Jupiter, queen of the
senger of Juno and Zeus, 6, 71- gods, 6, 28-33, 37, 38, 71, 72, 81,
72, 218, 225, 282. 95, 101, 112, 123, 143, 144, 145,
Iron Age, 15. 149, 150, 160, 177, 211, 216, 218,
I'sis, wife of Osiris; described as 220, 261, 277, 278, 279, 282, 287,
the giver of death, 292', 293-294. 289.
Isles of the Blessed, 2, 146, 273. Ju'pi-ter,Jovis-pater, Father Jove;
Is'ma-rus, first stop of Ulysses, re- Jupiter and Jove used interchange-
turning from Trojan War, 236. ably, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 13, 14,
Is-me'nos, a son of Niobe, slain by 15, 16, 21, 29-32, 38, 40, 44, 45,
Apollo, 113. 49, 50, 52, 89, 91, 92, 97, 107,
Isth'mi-an Games, 155, 174. See 109, 116, 117, 123, 125, 127, 128,
Games. 130, 143, 148, 150, 153, 155, 158,
It'a-ly, 154, 259, 262, 263, 276, 285. 160, 173, 179, 180, 182, 187, 192,
Ith'a-ca, home of Ulysses and Penel- 204, 206, 207, 208, 211, 217, 218,
ope, 184, 212, 236, 253. 220, 221, 225, 226, 232, 240, 259,
I-u'lus,son of Êneas, 276, 277, 283, 263, 269, 287; oracle of, at Do-
287. dona, 296; statue of the Olym-
Ix-i'on, once a sovereign of Thes- pian, 303.
saly, sentenced in Tartarus to be Ju'pi-ter Am'mon (See Ammon),
lashed with serpents to a wheel 296.
which a strong wind drove con- Ju'piter Cap'i-to-li'nus, temple of,
tinually around, 186, 270. preserving the Sibylline books, 275.
Jus'tice. See Themis.
J
K
Ja-nic'u-lum, Roman
fortress on the
Janiculus, a hill on the other Kal'ki, tenth avatar (which See) of
side of the Tiber, 281. Vishnu, 321.
Ja'nus, a deity from the earliest Ke-da'li-on, guide of Orion, 205-206.
times held in high estimation by Ker'man, desert of, 320.
the Romans, 10, 281; temple of, Kneph, spirit or breath, 292.
277. Kriem'hild, wife of Siegfried, 352,

Ja-pan', 326. 353.
Ja'phet (Iapetus), 18. Krish'na, eighth avatar (which See)
Ja'son, leader of the Argonauts, of Vishnu, Hindu deity of fer-
seeking the Golden Fleece, 130- tility in nature and mankind, 321.
133, 134, 135, 136, 138-139, 151.
Ja'va, 326. L
Jo-cas'ta, 124, 182.
Jo'tun-heim, home of the giants in Lab'y-rinth, the enclosed maze of
Northern mythology, 330, 335, passageways where roamed the
348. Minotaur of Crete, killed by
Theseus with aid of Ariadne, Le'da, Queen of Sparta,wooed by
152, 156. Jupiter in the form of a swan,
Lach'e-sis, one of the Fates (which 109, 158.
See), 9. Le'laps,dog of Cephalus, 26, 35.
La-er'tes, father of Ulysses, 185. Lem'nos, large island in the Êgean
Lses-try-go'ni-ans, savages attacking Sea, sacred to Vulcan, 6, 130,
Ulysses, 241. 205, 229.
La'ius, King of Thebes, 123. Lem'u-res, the spectres or spirits
La'ma, holy man of Thibet, 327. of the dead, 11.
Lam-pe'tia, daughter of Hyperion, Le'the, river of Hades, drinking
244. whose water caused forgetfulness,
La-oc'o-on, a priest of Neptune, in 72, 271.
Troy, who warned the Trojans Leu-ca'dia, a promontory, whence
against the Wooden Horse (which Sappho, disappointed in love, was
See), but when two serpents said to have thrown herself into
came out of the sea and strangled the sea, 203.
him and his two sons, the people Leu-co'the-a, a sea-goddess, invoked
listened to the Greek spy Sinon by sailors for protection {See
(which See), and brought the fatal Ino), 174.
Horse into the town, 115, 230. Li'ber, ancient god of fruitfulness,
La-o-da-mi'a, daughter of Acastus 10, 11.
and wife of Protesilaus, 214. Li-be'thra, burial-place of Orpheus,
La-om'e-don, King of Troy, 207. 187.
Lap'i-thse, Thessalonians, whose king Lib'y-a, Greek name for continent
had invited the Centaurs to his of Africa in general, 145.
daughter's wedding but who at- Lib'y-an Desert, in Africa, 44.
tacked them for offering violence Lib'y-an Oasis, 296.
to the bride, 127, 166. Li'chas, who broughtthe shirt of
La'res, household deities, 11. Nessus Hercules, 148.
to
Lark'spur, flower from the blood of Li'nus, musical instructor of Her-
Ajax, 228. cules, 193.
La-ti'nus, ruler of Latium, where Lion, constellation, 41.
Mness landed in Italy, 276. Little Bear, constellation, 32-33, 42.
Lat'mos, Mount, where Diana fell Lo'gi, who vanquished Loki in an
in love with Endymion, 204. eating-contest, 339.
La-to"'na, mother of Apollo, 6, 36- Lo'ki, the Satan of Norse mythol-
38, 112, 113. ogy, son of the giant Farbanti,
Lau'sus, son of Mezentius, killed 332, 334, 335, 337, 339, 344-345,
by Êneas, 278, 285. 346, 347, 349, 352, 354, 355.
La-vin'i-a,daughter of Latinus and Lo'tis, a nymph, changed to a lotus-
wife of Êneas, 276, 287. plant and in that form plucked
La-vin'i-um, Italian city named for by Dryope (which See), 64.
Lavinia, 287. Lo'tus-Eaters, soothed to indolence;
Law. See Themis. companions of Ulysses landing
Le-an'der, a youth of Abydos, who, among them lost all memory of
swimming the Hellespont to see home and had dragged to be
Hero, his love, was drowned, 105- away before they would continue
106. their voyage, 237.
Le-ba-de'a, site of the oracle of Love (Eros) issued from egg of
Trophonius, 298. Night, and with arrows and torch
Le-byn'thos, JEgean island, 157. produced life and joy, 4.
Lyc'a-has, a turbulent sailor, 162. Me-lan'thus, steersman for Bacchus,

Ly-ca'on, son of Priam, 222. 162.
Lyc'i-a, a district in Southern Asia Me-le-a'ger, one of the Argonauts
Minor, 36, 124, 220. {See Althjea), 138-141.
Lyc-o-me'des, king of the Dolopi- Mel'i-cer'tes, infant son of Ino,
ans, who treacherously slew The- changed to Pakemon (See Ino,
seus, 154, 212. Leucothea, and Palaemon), 174.
Ly'cus, usurping King of Thebes, Me-lis'se-us, a Cretan king, 179.
192. Mel-pom'e-ne, one of the Muses
Lyn'ceus, one of the sons of (which See), 8.
iEgyptus, 158. Mem'non, the beautiful son of Ti-
thonus and Eos (Aurora), and
M king of the Ethiopians, slain in
Trojan War, 120, 207, 208, 227.
Ma-cha'on, son of ^sculapius, 218, Mem'phis, Egyptian city, 295, 299.
219, 229. Men-e-la'us, son of King of Sparta,
Mavo'ni-a, ancient Lydia, 162. husband of Helen, 212, 213, 219,
Ma'gi, Persian priests, 319. 221, 232, 233, 289.
Ma-ha-de'va, same as Siva (which Men-oe'ceus, son of Creon, volun-
See), 322. tary victim in war to gain suc-
Ma'ia, daughter of Atlas and Plei- cess for his father, 183.
one, eldest and most beautiful of Men'tor, son of Alcimus and a
the Pleiades, 7. faithful friend of Ulysses, 246.
Man, creation of, 12. Mer'cu-ry {See Hermes), 7, 13, 29-
Man'tu-a, in Italy, birthplace of 31, 49, 56, 89, 116, 123, 129, 147,
Virgil, 308. 192, 214, 226, 242, 245, 251, 263,
Ma'nu, ancestor of mankind, 321. 301.
Mar'a-thon, where Theseus and Mer'o-pe, daughter of King of
Pirithous met, 153. Chios, beloved by Orion, 205.
Mar'mo-ra, Sea of, 106. Mes'mer-ism, likened to curative
Ma'ro. See Virgil. oracle of Êsculapius at Epidau-
Mars, 6, 94, 107, 131, 216, 224. rus, 298.
Mar'sy-as, inventor of the flute, who Met'a-bus, father of Camilla, 278.
challenged Apollo- to musical com- Met'a-mor'pho-ses, Ovid's poetical
petition, and, defeated, was flayed legends of mythical transforma-
alive, 193. tions, a large source of our knowl-
Mats'ya, the Fish, first avatar edge of classic mythology, 309.
(which See) of Vishnu, 321. Met-a-ni'ra, a mother, kind to Ceres
Me-an'der, Grecian river, 44, 156. seeking Proserpine, 54.
Me-de'a, princess and sorceress who Me-temp'sy-cho'sis, transmigration of
aided Jason, 117, 131, 132, 134- souls —
rebirth of dying men and
137, 151, 152. women in forms of animals or
Med-i-ter-ra'ne-an Sea, 1, 233. human beings, 272.
Me-du'sa, one of the Gorgons Me'tis, Prudence, a spouse of Jupi-
(which See), 116-117, 124. ter, 5.
Me-gae'ra, one of the Furies (which Me-zen'ti-us, a brave but cruel sol-
See), 9. dier, opposing Êneas in Italy,
Meg'a-ra, 98. 278, 281, 285, 286.
Me-lam'pus, a Spartan dog, 35; the Mi'das, 46-48.
first mortal endowed with pro- Mid'gard, the middle world of the
phetic powers, 193-194. Norsemen, 329, 330, 348.
Mid'gard serpent, a sea-monster, oratory and sacred
song; Terp-
child of Loki, 332, 344, 349. sichore, song and dance;
choral
Milky Way, starred path across the Thalia, comedy and idyls; Ura-
sky, believed to be road to pal- nia, astronomy, 3, 8, 43, 124, 126,
ace of the gods, 15. 187, 193.
Mi'lo, a great athlete, 292. Mus'pel-heim, the fire-world of the
Mi'me, one of the chief dwarfs of Norsemen, 349.
ancient German mythology, 354, My-ce'nse, ancient Grecian city, of
356. which Agamemnon was king, 213,
Mi-ner'va (Athene), daughter of 235.
Jupiter, patroness of health, learn- Myr'mi-dons, bold soldiers of
ing, and wisdom, 3, 4, 7, 13, Achilles, 95-98, 219.
50, 53, 107-111, 116, 117, 123, Mys'i-a, Greek district on northwest
124, 125, 147, 153, 154, 157, 183, coast of Asia Minor, 130, 133.
193, 211, 216, 229, 230, 235, 246, Mythology, origin of, collected
247, 248, 249, 250, 251, 254; myths, describing gods of early
statue of, 304. peoples, 300-303.
Mi'nos, King of Crete, 95, 98-100,
152, 154, 156, 165, 268. N
Min'o-taur, monster killed by The-
seus, 152. Na'iads, water-nymphs, 36, 45, 167,
Mis'tle-toe, fatal to Baldur, 344, 360. 174, 178, 209.
Mne-mos'y-ne, one of the Muses Nan'na, wife of Baldur, 347.
(which See), 4, 8. Na'pe, a dog of Diana, 35.
Modesty, statue to, 184. Nar-cis'sus, who died of unsatis-
Mo'ly, plant, powerful against sor- fied love for his own image in the
cery, 242. water, 101-103.
Mo'mus, a deity whose delight was to Nau-sic'a-a, daughter of King Al-
jeer bitterly at gods and men, 9. cinous, who befriended Ulysses,
Mon'ad, the "unit" of Pythagoras, 248, 249.
289. Nau-sith'o-us, king of Phaeacians,
Monsters, unnatural beings, evilly 247, 248.
disposed to men, 122-129. Nax'os, Island of, 152, 163, 165.
Month, the, attendant upon the Sun, Ne'gus, King of Abyssinia, 328.
39. Ne-me'a, forest devastated by a
Moon, 3, 5, 41, 43; goddess of, lion killed by Hercules, 144, 155.
See Diana. Ne-me'an Games, held in honor of
Mor'pheus, son of Sleep and god Jupiter and Hercules, 155.
of dreams, 72, 73. Ne-me'an Lion, killed by Hercules,
Mul'ci-ber, Latin name of Vulcan, 144.
10. Nem'e-sis, goddess of vengeance, 9.
Mull, Island of, 362. Ne-op-tol'e-mus, son of Achilles,
Mu'nin, one of Odin's two ravens, 233.
130. Ne-pen'the, ancient drug to cause
Mu-sae'us, sacred poet, son of forgetfulness of pain or distress,
Orpheus, 194. 233.
Mu'ses, The, nine ^.goddesses pre- Neph'e-le, mother of Phryxus and
siding over poetry, etc. Calliope, — Helle, 34, 129.
epic poetry; Clio, history; Erato, Neph'thys, Egyptian goddess, 294.
love poetry; Euterpe, lyric poetry; Nep'tune, identical with Poseidon,
Melpomene, tragedy; Polyhymnia, god of the sea, 4, 5, 16, 44, 107,
109, 132, 144, 154, 171, 172, 173, Ni'sus, King of Megara, 98-101,
174, 190, 199, 205, 216, 217, 218, 282, 283, 284.
223, 230, 244, 252, 261, 264, 297. No'man, name assumed by Ulysses,
Ne're-ids, sea-nymphs, daughters of 239.
Nereus and Doris, 44, 167, 173, Norns, the threeScandinavian
196. Fates, Urdur past), Ver-
(the
Ne're-us, a sea-god, 44, 173, 174, dandi (the present), and Skuld
209. (the future), 330.
Nes'sus, a centaur killed by Her- Northern Mythology, 328-357.
cules, whose jealous wife sent him No'thung, magic sword, 355, 356.
a robe or shirt steeped in the No'tus, southwest wind, 176.
blood of Nessus, which poisoned Nox, daughter of Chaos and sister
him, 147. of Erebus; personification of
Nes'tor, king of Pylos, renowned night, 4.
for wisdom,
his justice, and Nu'ma, second king of Rome, 11,
knowledge of war, 130, 138, 139, 175.
208, 213, 217, 218, 219, 353. Nymphs, maidens, lesser
beautiful
Ni'be-lun'gen Hoard, treasure seized divinities of nature: Dryads and
by Siegfried from the Nibelungs, Hamadryads, tree-nymphs; Naiads,
buried in the Rhine by Hagan spring-, brook-, and river-nymphs;
after killing Siegfried, and lost Nereids, sea-nymphs; Oreads,
when Hagan was by Kriem-
killed mountain- or hill-nymphs, 44, 79,
hild; theme Wagner's four
of 208.
music-dramas, "The Ring of the Ny-sae'an nymph6, 160.
Nibelungen," 353.
Ni'be-lun'gen Lied, German epic,
giving the same nature-myth as O
the Norse Volsunga Saga, concern-
ing the Hoard, 352, 354. Ocean, 2, 44, 273.
Ni'be-lun'gen Ring, Wagner's mu- O-ce'a-nus, a Titan, ruling watery
sic-dramas, 354-357. elements, 4, 32, 59, 172, 174.
Ni'be-lungs, the, a race of Northern O-cyr'o-e, a prophetess, daughter of
dwarfs, 353, 354. Chiron, 127.
Nid'hogge, a serpent in the lower O'din, chief of the Norse gods, 329,
world that lives on the dead, 330, 331, 344, 347, 349, 351.
330. O-dys'seus. See Ulysses.
Niffle'heim, mist world of the Od'ys-sey, Homer's poem, relating
Norsemen; the Hades of absent the wanderings of Odysseus
spirits, 330, 333, 335, 348. (Ulysses) on returning from Tro-
Night, 4, 42, 208. jan War, 3, 227, 236.
Nile, Egyptian river, 31, 44. (Ed'i-pus, Theban hero, who guessed
Nim'rod, tower of, 301. the riddle of the Sphinx (which
Ni'nus, Tomb of, 24. See), becoming King of Thebes,
Ni'o-be, daughter of Tantalus, proud 123-124, 182.
Queen of Thebes, whose seven CE'neus, King of Calydon, 138, 140.
sons and seven daughters were CE-no'ne, nymph, married by Paris
killed by Apollo and Diana, at in his youth, and abandoned for
which Amphion, her husband, Helen, 229.
killed himself, and Niobe wept (E-no'pi-on, King of Chios, 205.
until she was turned to stone, CE'ta, Mount, scene of Hercules'
111-115. death, 148.
O-lym'pia, a small plain in Elis, Ov'id, Latin poet (See Meta-
where the Olympic games were morphoses), 98, 275, 289, 308.
celebrated, 155.
O-lym'pi-ads, periods between Olym- P
pic games (four years), 155.
O-lym'pi-an games, 155. See Games. Pac-to'lus, whose sands were
river
O-lym'pus, dwelling-place of the dy- changed to gold by Midas (which
nasty of gods of which Zeus was See), 47.
the head, 1, 3, 5, 43, 94, 213, Pae'on, a name for both Apollo and
280. Êsculapius, gods of medicine,
Om'pha-le, queen of Lydia, daugh- 174.
ter of Iardanus and wife of Pa'gans, heathen, 12.
Tmolus, 147. Pa-ke'mon, son of Athamas and
O-phi'on, king of the Titans, who Ino (which See), 174.
ruled Olympus till dethroned by Pal-a-me'des, messenger sent to call
the gods Saturn and Rhea, 4, 5. Ulysses to the Trojan War, 212.
Ops. See Rhea. Para-tine, one of Rome's Seven
Or'a-cles, answers from the gods to Hills, 281.
questions from seekers for knowl- Pa'les, goddess presiding over cattle
edge or advice for the future, and pastures, 10, 11.
usually equivocal form, so as
in Pal-i-nu'rus, steersman of
faithful
to fit any event; also places where JEneas, 264, 267.
such answers were given forth, Pal-la'di-um, properly any image
usually by a priest or priestess, of Pallas Athene, but specially
296-300. applied to an image at Troy,
O're-ads, nymphs of mountains and which was stolen by Ulysses and
hills, 167, 170. Diomedes, 229, 232.
O-res'tes, son of Agamemnon and Pal'las,son of Evander, 279, 280,
Clytemnestra; because of his 281, 282, 286, 287.
crime in killing his mother, he Pal'las A-the'ne (Minerva), 7, 81,
wa3 pursued by the Furies until 224, 249.
purified by Minerva, 234, 235. Pam'pha-gus, a dog of Diana, 35.
O-ri'on, youthful giant, loved by Pan, god of nature and the uni-
Diana; Constellation, 122, 205-206. verse, 9, 30, 31, 47, 76, 166-168.
Or-i-thy'i-a,a nymph, seized by Pan-ath-e-nae'a, festival in honor of
Boreas, 176. Pallas Athene (Minerva), 154.
Or'muzd (Greek, Oromasdes), son Pan-de'an Pipes, musical instru-
of Supreme Being, source of good ment of reeds, made by Pan in
as his brother Ahriman (Arima- memory of Syrinx (which See).
nes) was of evil, in Persian or Pan-do'ra (all-gifted), first woman,
Zoroastrian religion, 318. dowered with by every god,
gifts
Or'pheus, musician, son of Apollo yet entrusted with a box she was
and Calliope, 130, 133, 158, 185- cautioned not to open; but, curi-
188, 191, 194, 271. See Eury- ous, she opened it, and out flew
dice. all the ills of humanity, leaving
the most beneficent of the
O-si'ris, behind only Hope, which re-
Egyptian gods, 292, 293-294. mained, 13-14, 17, 18.
Os'sa, mountain of Thessaly, 43, Pan'o-pe, plain of, 92, 113.
123. Pan'thus, alleged earlier incarnation
Os'sian, Celtic poet of the second of Pythagoras, 289.
or third century, 361. Paph'la-go'ni-a, ancient country in
Asia Minor, south of Black Sea, Pen'the-us, king of Thebes; having

208. resisted the introduction of the
Pa'phos, daughter of Pygmalion and worship of Bacchus into his
Galatea (both of which See), 63, kingdom, was driven mad by the
66. god, 94, 161, 164.
Par'cae. See Fates. Pe'nus, Roman house pantry, giv-
Pa-ri'ahs, lowest caste of Hindus, ing name to the Penates, 11.
324. Pep'lus, sacred robe of Minerva,
Par'is, son of Priam and Hecuba, 155.
who eloped with Helen (which Per'dix, inventor of saw and com-
See), 211, 212, 213, 216, 218, passes, 157.
228, 229, 232, 261. Per'i-an'der, King of Corinth, friend
Par-nas-sian wreath from
laurel, of Arion, 195-198.
Parnassus, crown awarded to suc- Per-i-phe'tes, son of Vulcan, killed
cessful poets, 47. by Theseus, 151.
Par-nas'sus,mountain near Delphi, Per-seph'o-ne, goddess of vegeta-
sacred to Apollo and the Muses, tion, 8. See Proserpine.
16, 19, 20, 43, 297. Per'seus, son of Jupiter and Danae,
Par'sees, Persian fire-worshippers slayer of the Gorgon Medusa,
(Zoroastrians) , of whom there are deliverer of Andromeda from a
still thousands in Persia and In- sea-monster, 116-122, 124, 202.
dia, 320. Phse-a'ci-ans, people who entertained
Par'the-non, the temple of Athene Ulysses, 247-253.
Parthenos ("the Virgin") on the Phae'dra, faithless and cruel wife of
Acropolis of Athens, 155, 304. Theseus, 153-154.
Pa-tro'clus, friend of Achilles, Pha-e-thu'sa, sister of Phaeton, 244.
killed by Hector, 218, 219, 220, Pha-e-ton, son of Phoebus, who
221, 225. dared attempt to drive his father's
/
Peg a-sus, winged horse, born from sun-chariot, 38-45.
the sea-foam and the blood of Phan'ta-sos, a son of Somnus,
Medusa, 124-126. bringing strange images to sleep-
Pe'leus, king of the Myrmidons, ing men, 72.
father of Achilles by Thetis, 138, Pha'on, beloved by Sappho, 203.
173, 211. Phid'i-as, famous Greek sculptor,
Pe'li-as, usurping uncle of Jason, 303, 304, 305.
130, 132, 136, 180. Phi-le'mon, husband of Baucis
Pe'li-on, mountain, 123, 133. (which See), 49-51.
Pe-na'tes, protective household dei- Phil-oc-te'tes, warrior who lighted
ties of the Romans, 11. the fatal pyre of Hercules, 148,
Pe-nel'o-pe, wife of Ulysses, who, 229.
waiting twenty years for his re-
Phil'o-e, burial-place of Osiris, 294.
turn from the Trojan War, put
Phin'e-us, betrothed to Andromeda,
off the suitors for her hand by
120-121, 130, 131, 259.
promising to choose one when
Phleg'e-thon, fiery river of Hades,
her weaving was done, but un-
269.
ravelled at night what she had
woven by day, 77, 184, 185, 212, Pho'cis, 234, 235, 297.
254, 256. Phoebe, one of the sisters of Pha-

Pe-ne'us, river god, 20; river, 144. eton.
Pen-the-si-le'a, queen of Amazons, Phce'bus (Apollo), god of music,
228. prophecy, and archery, the sun-
god, 6, 22, 34, 38, 39-41, 68, 71, Pol-y-dec'tes, king of Seriphus, 116,
92, 220. 202.
Phce-ni'cia, 91, 233, 294, 301. Pol-y-do're, slain kinsman of -<Eneas;
Phoe-ni'ci-ans, 94, 296, 358. whose blood nourished a bush
Phce'nix, a messenger to Achilles, that bled when broken, 258.
217; a miraculous bird,
also, Pol-y-hym'ni-a, Muse of oratory and
dying in fire by its own act and sacred song, 8.
springing up alive from its own. Po-ly'i-dus, soothsayer, 125.
ashes, 310-312. Pol-y-ni'ces, King of Thebes, 182,
Phor'bas, companion of ./Eneas,
a 183.
whose form was assumed by Nep- Pol-y-phe'mus, giant son of Nep-
tune in luring Palinuras the tune, 173, 209, 237. 238, 260.
helmsman from his post, 264. Po-lyx'e-na* daughter of King Priam
Phryg'i-a, 48, 49, 112, 160. of Troy, 228, 232.
Phryx'us, brother of Helle (which Po-mo'na, goddess of fruit-trees
See), 130. (See Vertumnus), 10, 11, 26, 76-
Pillars of Hercules, two mountains 79.
— Cal'pe, now the Rock of Gibral- Roman name
Por-tu'nus, for Palae-
tar, southwest corner of Spain in mon (which See), 174.
Europe, and Ab'y-la, facing it Po-sei'don (Neptune), ruler of the
in Africa across the strait, 145. ocean, 5.
Pin'dar, famous Greek poet, 273. Poverty, 266.
Pin'dus, Grecian mountain, 43. Prec'i-pice, threshold of Helas hall,
Pi-re'ne, celebrated fountain at 333.
Corinth, 125. Pres'ter John, a rumored priest or
king of the Lapithae in
Pi-rith'o-us, presbyter, a Christian pontiff in
Thessaly, and friend of Theseus, Upper Asia, believed in but never
husband of Hippodamia (which found, 327-328.
See), 127, 138, 153, 158, 166. Pri'am, king of Troy, 207, 213,
Pleasure, daughter of Cupid and
223, 224, 225, 226, 228, 232.
Psyche, 89.
Pro'cris,beloved but jealous wife
Ple'ia-des, seven of Diana's nymphs,
of Cephalus, 26-28.
changed into stars, one being lost,
Pro-crus'tes, who seized travellers
206, 208.
and bound them on his iron bed,
Plenty, the Horn of, 178-179.
stretching the short ones and cut-
Plex-ip'pus, brother of Althea, 139.
ting short the tall; thus also
Plin'y, Roman naturalist, 313, 315, himself served by Theseus, 151.
317.
Proe'tus, jealous of Bellerophon, 125.
Plu'to, the same as Hades, Dis,
Pro-me'theus, creator of man, who
etc.; god of the Infernal Re-
stole fire from heaven for man's
gions, 5, 8, 9, 52-56, 58, 88, 127,
use, 12, 13, 16, 17, 18, 173.
135, 147, 153, 180, 186, 265, 267.
Pros'er-pine, the same as Perse-
Plu'tus, god of wealth, 9
phone, goddess of all growing
Po, Italian river, 271. things, daughter of Ceres, carried
Pole-star, 33. off by Pluto, 8, 53-57, 88,
11,
Po-li'tes, youngest son of Priam of 134 n., 147, 186, 265, 266.
Troy, 232. Pro-tes-i-la'us, slain by Hector the
Pol'lux,Castor and (Dioscuri, the Trojan, allowed by the gods to
Twins) (See Castor), 133, 158- return for three hours' talk with
159, 202, 203. his widow Laodomia, 214.
Pro'teus, the old man of the sea, Q

60, 173, 190-191.
Pru'dence (Metis), spouse of Jupi- Qui-ri'nus (from qniris, a lance or
ter, 5.
spear), a war god, said to be
Psy'che, a beautiful maiden, per- Romulus, founder of Rome, 10.

sonification the human
of soul,
sought by Cupid (Love), to whom R
she responded, lost him by curi-
osity to see him (as he came to Rag-na-rok', the twilight (or ending)
her only by night), but finally of the gods, 348-349.
through his prayers was made im- Raj'puts, minor Hindu caste, 324.
mortal and restored to him; a Re-gil'lus, lake in Latium, noted
symbol of immortality, 80-91. for battle fought near by between
Pu-ra'nas, Hindu Scriptures, 322. the Romans and the Latins, 158.
Pyg-ma'li-on, sculptor in love with Re'mus, brother of Romulus,
a statue he had made, brought founder of Rome, 287.
to lifeby Venus, 62-63; brother Rhad-a-man'thus, son of Jupiter
of Queen Dido, 262. and Europa, after his death one
Pyg'mies, nation of dwarfs, at war of the judges in the lower world,
with the Cranes, 128. 269, 273.
Py^-des, son of Straphius, friend Rhap'so-dist, professional reciter of
of Orestes, 234. poems among the Greeks, 307.
Pyr'a-mus, who; loved Thisbe, next- Rhe'a, female Titan, wife of Saturn
door neighbor, and, their parents (Cronos), mother of the chief
opposing, they talked through gods, worshipped in Greece and
cracks in the house-wall, agree- Rome, 4, 5, 8, 143, 161, 179.
ing to meet in the near-by woods; Rhine, river, 353, 355, 357.
where Pyramus, finding a bloody Rhine-maidens, or daughters, three
veil and thinking Thisbe slain, water - nymphs, Flosshilda, Wo-
killed himself, and she, seeing glinda, and Wellgunda, set to
his body, killed herself. (Bur- guard the Nibelungen Hoard
lesqued in Shakespeare's "Mid- (which See), buried in the Rhine,
summer Night's Dream"), 23-26. 354, 355.
Pyr'rha, wife of Deucalion (which Rhodes, one of the seven cities
See), 16-17. claiming to be Homer's birthplace,
Pyr'rhus (Neoptolemus), son of 307.
Achilles, 232. Rho'do-pe, mountain in Thrace, 43.
Py-thag'o-ras, Greek philosopher Rhce'cus, a youth, beloved by a
(540 B.C.), who thought numbers Dryad, but who brushed away a'
to be the essence and principle of bee sent by her to call him to
all things, and taught transmi- her, and she punished him with
gration of souls of the dead into blindness, 172.
new life as human or animal be- River Ocean, flowing around the
ings, 288. earth, 2.
Pyth'i-a, priestess of Apollo at Del- Rome, 262, 287, 298.

phi, 297. Rom'u-lus, founder of Rome, 10,
Pythy i-an Games, 19, 155. 287.
Pyth'i-an Oracle, 84. Ru'nic characters, or runes, alpha-
Py'thon, serpent springing from betic signs used by early Teu-
Deluge slum, destroyed by Apol- tonic peoples, written or graved
lo, 19. on metal or stone, 330, 350.
Ru-tu'li-ans, an ancient people in Sa-tyrs, male divinities of the for-
Italy, subdued at an early period est, halfman, half goat, 9, 10,
by the Romans, 276, 279, 281, 76.
282. Scal'i-ger, famous German scholar
of 16th century, 313.
S mythology of, giving
Scan-di-na'vi-a,
account of Northern gods, heroes,
Sa'bra, maiden for whom Severn etc., 328-351.
River was named, daughter of Sche'ri-a, mythical island, abode of
Locrine and Estrildis, thrown into the Phaecians, 243.
river Severn by Locrine's wife, Schrim'nir, the boar, cooked nightly
transformed to a river-nymph, for the heroes of Valhalla, becom-
poetically named Sabrina, 174. ing whole every morning, 331.
Sa'gas, Norse tales of heroism, com- Sci'o, one of the island cities
posed by the Skalds (which See), claiming to be Homer's birth-
351-357. place, 307.
Sa-git-ta'ri-us, 128. Sco'pas, King of Thessaly, 202, 203.
Sak-ya-sin'ha, the Lion, epithet ap- Scor'pion, constellation, 41, 43.
plied to Buddha, 325. Scyl'la,sea-nymph beloved by Glau-
Sal'a-man'der, a lizard-like animal, cus, but changed by jealous Circe
fabled to be able to live in fire, to a monster and finally to a
316-317. dangerous rock on the Sicilian
Sal'a-mis, Grecian city, 79, 307. coast, facing the whirlpool Cha-
Sal-mo'neus, son of Êolus and rybdis, many mariners being
Enarete, and brother of Sisy- wrecked between the two, 59-61,
phus, 269. 243-245, 261; also, daughter of
Samh'in, or "fire of peace," a Dru- King Nisus of Megara, who loved
idical festival, 359. Minos, besieging her father's city,
Sa'mi-an sage (Pythagoras), 288. but he disliked her disloyalty and
Sa'mos, island in the iEgean Sea, drowned her, 98-101; also, a fair
157, 288. virgin of friend
Sicily, of sea-
Sam-o-thra'cian gods, a group of nymph Galatea, 209-210.
agricultural divinities, worshipped Scy'ros, where Theseus was slain,
in Samothrace, 158. 154.
Sam'son, Hebrew hero, thought by Scyth'i-a, country lying north of
some to be original of Hercules, Euxine Sea, 31, 43, 129, 170.
301. Sea, the, 1.
Sapph'o, Greek poetess, who leaped Sea-nymphs, 120, 209.

into the sea from promontory of Sea'sons, 3, 6.
Leucadia, in disappointed love for Sem'e-le, daughter of Cadmus and,
Phaon, 38, 203. by Jupiter, mother of Bacchus,
Sar-pe'don, son of Jupiter and Eu- 8, 94, 160.
ropa, killed by Patroclus, 213, Se-mir'a-mis, with Ninus the myth-
220. ical founder of the Assyrian em-
Sat'urn (Cronos), 4, 5, 8, 9, 10, pire of Nineveh, 23.
276, 280, 281, 301. Se-ra'pis, or Hermes, Egyptian di-
annual festival held
Sat'ur-na'li-a, vinity of Tartarus and of medi-
by Romans in honor of Saturn, cine, 293, 295.
9. Se-ri'phus, island in the ^gean
Sa-tur'ni-a, an ancient name of Sea; one of the Cyclades, 116,
Italy, 281. 202.
Serpent (Northern constellation ),

1
Sis'y-phus,condemned in Tartarus
42. to roll up hill a big
perpetually
Ses'tos, dwelling of Hero (which rock which, when the top was
See, also Leander), 105. reached, rolled down again, 186,
"Seven against Thebes," famous 270.
Greek expedition, 182. Si'va, the Destroyer, third person
Sha-tri'ya, Hindu warrior caste, of the Hindu triad of gods, 320,
323, 324. 322.
Sib'yl, prophetess of Cumas, 265, Skalds, Norse bards and poets, 350.
266-275. Skid-blad'nir, Freyr's ship, 348.
Si-chae'us, husband of Dido (which Skir'nir, Frey's messenger, who
See), 262. won themagic sword by
god's
Sic'i-ly, 55, 56, 58, 61, 195, 209, getting him Gerda for his wife,
260, 261, 264. 336.
Sieg'fried,young King of the Neth- Skry'mir, a giant, Utgard Loki
erlands, husband of Kriemhild; (which See) in disguise, who
she boasted to Brunhild that fooled Thor in athletic feats, 337.
Siegfried had aided Gunther to Skuld, the Norn of the Future,
beat her in athletic contests, thus 330.
winning her as wife, and Brun- Sleep, twin-brother of Death, 220.
hild, in anger, employed Hagan to Sleip'nir, Odin's horse, 345.
murder Siegfried. As hero of Som'nus, child of Nox, twin
Wagner's "Valkyrie," he wins the brother of Mors, god of sleep,
Nibelungen treasure-ring, loves 71-72, 264.
and deserts Brunhild, and is slain Soph'o-cles, Greek tragic dramatist,
by Hagan, 352, 353, 355, 356-357. 235.
Sieg-lin'da, wife of Hunding, South wind. See Notus.
mother of Siegfried by Siegmund, Spar'ta, capital of Lacedasmon, 158,
355, 356-357. 212, 233.
Sieg'mund, father of Siegfried, 355. Sphinx, a monster, waylaying the
Si-gu'na, wife of Loki, 347. road to Thebes and propounding
Si-le'nus, a Satyr, school-master of riddles to all passers, on pain of
Bacchus, 46. death for wrong guessing, who
Silver Age, 14. killed herself in rage when
Sil'vi-a, daughter of Latin shep- Êdipus guessed aright, 122, 123-
herd, 277. 124.
Si-mon'i-des, an early poet of Spring, 39, 56.
Greece, 201-203. Stro'phi-us, father of Pylades, 234.
Si'non, a Greek spy, who persuaded Styg'i-an realm, Hades, 186.
the Trojans to take the Wooden Styg'i-an sleep, escaped from the
Horse (which See) into their beauty-box sent from Hades to
city, 230, 231. Venus by hand of Psyche, who
Si'rens, sea-nymphs, whose singing curiously opened the box and was
charmed mariners to leap into the plunged into unconsciousness, 89.
sea; passing their island, Ulysses Styx, river, bordering Hades, to be
stopped the ears of his sailors crossed by all the dead, 160, 228.
with wax, and had himself bound Su'dras, Hindu laboring caste, 323,
to the mast so that he could hear 324.
but not yield to their music, 242. Summer, 39.
Sir'i-us, the dog of Orion, changed Sun, 3, 5, 39, 311.
to the Dog-star, 206. Sur'tur, leader of giants against the
gods in the day of their destruc- Tel'a-mon, Greek hero and adven-
tion (Norse mythology), 349. turer, father of Ajax, 98, 138,
Sur'ya, Hindu god of the sun, 139.
corresponding to the Greek He- Te-lem'a-chus, son of Ulysses and
lios, 321. Penelope, 212, 233, 246, 254, 255,
Sva-dil-fa'ri, giant's horse, 334, 335. 256, 257.
Swan, Leda and, 158. Tel'lus, another name for Rhea,
Syb'a-ris, Greek city in Southern 134.
Italy, famed for luxury, 292. Ten'e-dos, an island in Mgean Sea,
Syl-va'nus, Latin divinity identified 21.
with Pan, 76, 166. Ter'mi-nus, Roman divinity presid-
Sym-pleg'a-des, floating rocks passed ing over boundaries and fron-
by the Argonauts, 131. tiers, 10.
Sy'rinx, nymph, pursued by Pan, Terp-sich'o-re,Muse of dancing, 8.
but escaping by being changed to Ter'ra, goddess of the earth, 146.
a bunch of reeds (See Pandean Te'thys, goddess of the sea, 32, 40,
pipes), 30. 59, 172, 174.
Teu'cer, anciert king of the Tro-
T jans, 78.
Tha-li'a, one of the three Graces
Tac'i-tus, Roman historian, 311. (which See), 8.
Taen'a-rus, Greek entrance to lower Tham'y-ris, Thracian lord, who
regions, 186. challenged the Muses to competi-
Ta'gus, river in Spain and Portugal, tion in singing, and, defeated,
44. was blinded, 193.
Tan'a-is, ancient name of river Don, Thaukt, Loki disguised as a hag,
44. 346.
Tan'ta-lus, wicked king, punished in Thebes, city founded by Cadmus,
Hades by standing in water that and capital of Bceotia, 11, 92,
retired when he would drink, un- 94, 111, 112, 123, 124, 161, 182,
der fruit-trees that withdrew 183, 192, 296.
when he would eat, 112, 186, 270, The'mis, female Titan, law-counsel-
Tar'chon, Etruscan chief, 282. lor of Jove, 4, 7, 9, 15 n., 297.
Ta-ren'tum, Italian city, 197. The'ron, one of Diana's dogs, 35.
Tar-pe'ian rock, in Rome, from
Ther-si'tes, a brawler, killed by
which condemned criminals were Achilles, 228.
hurled, 280.
Thes'ce-lus, foe of Perseus, turned
Tar'quins, a ruling family in early
to stone by sight of Gorgon's
Roman legend, 275.
head, 121.
Tau'ris, Grecian city, site of tem-
The-se'um, Athenian temple in
ple of Diana (See Iphigenia),
honor of Theseus, 154.
214, 234.
Tar'rus, a mountain, 43. The'se-us, son of Êgeus and Êth-
ra, King of Athens, a great hero
Tar'ta-rus, place of confinement of
Titans, etc., originally a black of many adventures, 130, 136,
abyss below Hades; later, repre- 138, 139, 147, 150-157, 158, 165,
sented as place where the wicked 177.
were punished, and sometimes the Thes'saly, 3, 69, 129, 130, 132, 170,
name used as synonymous with 202.
Hades, 5, 44, 52, 53, 73, 186, 187, Thes'ti-us, father of Althea (which
269, 293. See), 140.
The'tis, mother of Achilles, 173, Troe'zen, Greek city of Argolis, 150.

1/4, 211, 212, 216, 221, 222, 225, Tro'jans, 216, 259-264, 269, 277.
228. Tro'jan War, 138, 174, 184, 211-
Thor's servant, 337, 340.
Thi'al-fi, 227.
This'be, Babylonian maiden beloved Tro-pho'ni-us, oracle of, in Boeotia,
by Pyramus (which See), 23-26. 297-298.
Thor, the thunderer, of Norse Troy, city in Asia Minor, ruled by
mythology, most popular of the King Priam, whose son, Paris,
gods, 331, 332, 334, 335, 337-343, stole away Helen, wife of Mene-
349, 352. laus the Greek, resulting in the
Thrace, 31, 130, 258. Trojan W
r and the destruction
Thri-na'ki-a, island pasturing Hy- of Troy, 206, 207, 212, 213, 214,
perion's cattle, where Ulysses 218, 224, 227, 229, 236.
landed, but, his men killing some Troy, fall of, 227-232.
cattle for food, their ship was Tur'nus, chief of the Rutulianes in
wrecked by lightning, 244. Italy, unsuccessful rival of Êneas
Thrym, giant, who buried Thor's for Lavinia, 276, 277, 278, 279,
hammer, 335. 281, 282, 286-287.
Thu-cyd'i-des, Greek historian, 98. Ty'phon, one of the giants who at-
Ti'ber, river flowing through Rome, tacked the gods, were defeated,
276, 299. and imprisoned under Mt. .(Etna,
Tiber, Father, god of the river, 279. 52, 123, 261, 293, 294.
Ti'gris, river, 35. Tyr, Norse god of battles, 333.
Ti-re'si-as, a Greek soothsayer, 183. Tyre, Phoenician city governed by
Ti-siph'o-ne, one of the Furies Dido (which See), 262.
(which See), 9, 269. Tyr'ians, 92, 262.
Ti'tans, the sons and daughters of Tyr'rhe-us, herdsman of King
Uranus (Heaven) and Gaea Turnus in Italy, the slaying of
(Earth), enemies of the gods and whose daughter's stag aroused
overcome by them, 4, 5, 13, 18, war upon Êneas and his com-
52, 172, 269. panions, 277.
Ti-tho'nus, Trojan prince, 207.
Tit'y-us, giant in Tartarus, 122,
269.
U
Tmo'lus, a mountain god, 43, 47.
U-lys'ses (Greek, Odysseus), hero
Tortoise, second avatar (which See)
of the Odyssey, 60, 61, 76, 184,
of Vishnu, 321.
212, 213, 217, 219, 228, 229, 230,
Tox'e-us, brother of Melauger's
232, 233, 236-257, 261.
mother, who snatched from Ata-
U'ni-corn, fabled animal with a sin-
lanta her hunting trophy, and
gle horn, 315.
was slain by Melauger, who had
awarded U-ra'ni-a, of the Muses, a
one
it to her, 139.
Triad, the Hindu, 320-321.
daughter of Zeus by Mnemosyne,
8, 126.
Tri-mur'ti, Hindu Triad, 320.
Trip-tore-mus, son of Celeus (which Ur'dur, one of the Norns or Fates
See), and who, made great by of Scandinavia, representing the
Ceres, founded her worship in Past, 330.
Eleusis, 57. Ut'gard, abode of the giant Ut-
Tri'ton, a demi-god of the sea, son gard-Loki, 338.
of Poseidon (Neptune) and Am- Ut'gard-Lo'ki, King of the Giants
phitrite, 16, 60, 173, 174, 262. (See Skrymir), 339-343.
v who killed Nisus and Euryalus,
284.
Va-is'sy-as, Hindu caste of agricul- Vol'sung-a Sa'ga, an Icelandic poem,
turists and traders, 323. giving about the same legends
Val-hal'la, hall of Odin, heavenly as the Nibelungen Lied (which
residence of slain heroes, 330, See), 217, 354.
331, 344, 348, 354, 355, 356. Vul'can (Greek, Hasphestus), god
Val-ky'rie, armed and mounted of fire and metal-working, with
warlike virgins, daughters of the forges under iEtna, husband of
gods (Norse), Odin's messengers, Venus, 4, 6, 10, 39, 41, 94, 123,
who select slain heroes for Val- 151, 182, 205, 222, 287, 301.
halla and serve them at their Vy-a'sa, Hindu sage, 320.
feasts, 331, 347, 354, 355.
Ve, brother of Odin, 329, 330.
Ve'das, Hindu sacred Scriptures,
W
320, 321, 324.
Wain, the, constellation, 3.
Ve'nus (Aphrodite), goddess of
Well-gun'da, one of the Rhin»-
beauty, 6, 7, 11, 13, 53, 65-67,
daughters (which See), 354.
76, 78, 80, 82, 86-89, 94, 123,
Western Ocean, 273.
142, 165, 209, 211, 212, 216, 218,
Winds, the, 176, 208.
232, 264, 265.
Winter, 39.
Ve'nus de Med'i-ci, famous antique
Wo'den, chief god in the Norse
statue in Uffizi Gallery, Florence,
mythology; Anglo-Saxon for Odin,
Italy, 305.
330.
Ver-dan'di, the Present, one of the
Wog-lin'da, one of the Rhine-
Norns (which See), 330.
daughters (which See), 354.
Ver-tum'nus, god of the changing
Woman, creation of, 13.
seasons, whose varied appearances
Wooden Horse, the, filled with
won the love of Pomona, 76-79.
armed men, but left outside of
Ves'ta, daughter of Cronos and
Troy as a pretended offering
Rhea; goddess of the home-fire,
to Minerva when the Greeks
or hearth, 10.
feigned to sail away; accepted by
Ves'tals, virgin priestesses in tem-
the Trojans (See Sinon, and Lao*
ple of Vesta, 10.
coon), brought into the city, and
Ve-su'vi-us, Mount, volcano near
at night emptied of the hidden
Naples, 266.
Greek soldiers, who destroyed the
Vig'rid, final battle-field, with de-
town, 229-232.
struction of the gods and their
Wood-nymphs, 76, 167.
enemies, the sun, the earth, and
Wo'tan, Old High German form of
time itself, 349.
Odin, 351, 352, 354, 355, 356.
Vi'li, brother of Odin and Ve, 329.
Vir'gil, celebrated Latin poet (See
Êneid), 212, 266, 273, 275, 307- X
308.
Vir'go, constellation of the Virgin, Xan'thus, river of Asia Minor, 44.
representing Astraea, goddess of
innocence and purity, 15 n. Y
Vish'nu, the Preserver, second of
the three chief Hindu gods, 320, Ya'ma, Hindu god of the Infernal
321, 325. Regions, 321.
Vel'scens, Rutulian troop leader Year, the, 39.
Yg-dra'sil, great ash-tree, supposed Ze'tes, winged warrior, companion

by Norse mythology to support of Theseus, 133, 176.
the universe, 330. Ze'thus, son of Jupiter and Anti-
Y'mir, giant, slain by Odin, 329, ope, brother of Amphion, 192.
348. See Dirce.
Zeus,4. See Jupiter.
Z Zo-ro-as'ter, founder of the Persian
religion, which was dominant in
Zend'a-vesta, Persian sacred Scrip- Western Asia from about 550 b.c.
tures, 318. to about 650 a.d., and is still held
Zeph'y-rus, god of the South wind, by many thousands in Persia and
68, 82, 83, 85, 176, 273. in India, 318-320.
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1

PRINTED TN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

No new edition of Bulfinch's classic work can be con-

of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a knowledge

Most of the classical legends in "Stories of Gods and

In the "Stories of Gods and Heroes" the compiler has

unapprehended, why should one to Excalibar, the famous

"Of Arthur, who, to upper light restored,

an additional recommendation of our subject, that

II. Prometheus and Pandora ..... 12

XXXVIII. Northern Mythology — Valhalla — The

Proverbial Expressions 367

Theseus and Aithra (P. 150) Frontispiece

The Garden of the Nymphs 120

The Death of Acrisius 124

The Golden Fleece 132

Medeia and Talus 136

Theseus and Ariadne 152

The Sirens of Anthemousa 242

STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

The religions of ancient Greece and Rome are ex-

"I come from a land in the sun-bright deep,

On the south side of the earth, close to the stream

of the earth, which they probably regarded as of no

great width, nations enjoying the peculiar favor of the

"Now the gilded car of day

The abode of the gods was on the summit of Mount

all, when summoned, repaired to the palace of Jupiter,

The robes and other parts of the dress of the god-

tune, Hyperion to Apollo. Hyperion was the father

"Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself."

Ophion and Eurynome ruled over Olympus till they

The representations given of Saturn are not very

Mars (Ares), the god of war, was the son of

inspiring love. Her favorite birds were swans and

Mercury (Hermes) was the son of Jupiter and Maia.

made holes in the opposite edges of it, and drew cords

"These three on men all gracious gifts bestow

They teach us how to each degree and kind

The preceding are Grecian divinities, though received

were postponed, friends made presents to one another,

were shut only once between the reign of Numa and

given them being, and was regarded as their protector

12 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

PROMETHEUS AND PANDORA

The creation of the world a problem naturally

air was next in weight and place. The earth, being

and buoyed up the earth.

He gave him an upright stature, so that while all other

Prometheus was one of the Titans, a gigantic race,

contents of the jar had escaped, one thing only ex-

PROMETHEUS AND PANDORA 15

wicked. The hardest and worst was the Iron Age.

heaven with a cloak of pitchy darkness. The clouds,

sound a retreat to the waters. The waters obeyed, and

wife, only surviving woman, joined to me first by the

The comparison of Eve to Pandora is too obvious to

have escaped Milton, who introduces it in Book IV. of

"More lovely than Pandora, whom the gods

Prometheus and Epimetheus were sons of Iapetus,