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diff --git a/40476-0.txt b/40476-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a3159c --- /dev/null +++ b/40476-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9778 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40476 *** + + CHILDREN OF THE DAWN + + OLD TALES OF GREECE + + + [Illustration: Each night Hero lighted her torch; each night Leander + swam across the narrow sea. _Page 117._] + + + + + CHILDREN OF THE DAWN OLD TALES OF GREECE + + WRITTEN BY + + ELSIE FINNIMORE BUCKLEY + + + INTRODUCTION BY ILLUSTRATIONS BY + ARTHUR SIDGWICK FRANK C PAPÉ + + NEW YORK + FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + + + +INTRODUCTION: + + +The aim of this volume is to present, in a form suitable for young +readers, a small selection from the almost inexhaustible +treasure-house of the ancient Greek tales, which abound (it is +needless to say) in all Greek poetry, and are constantly referred to +by the prose-writers. These stories are found, whether narrated at +length, or sometimes only mentioned in a cursory and tantalising +reference, from the earliest poets, Homer and Hesiod, through the +lyric age, and the Attic renaissance of the fifth century, when they +form the material of the tragic drama, down to the second century +B.C., when Apollodorus, the Athenian grammarian, made a prose +collection of them, which is invaluable. They reappear at Rome in the +Augustan age (and later), in the poems of Vergil, Ovid, and +Statius--particularly in Ovid's "Metamorphoses." Many more are +supplied by Greek or Roman travellers, scholars, geographers, or +historians, of the first three centuries of our era, such as +Strabo, Pausanias, Athenæus, Apuleius and Ælian. The tales are +various--stories of love, adventure, heroism, skill, endurance, +achievement or defeat. The gods take active part, often in conflict +with each other. The heroes or victims are men and women; and behind +all, inscrutable and inexorable, sits the dark figure of Fate. The +Greeks had a rare genius for storytelling of all sorts. Whether the +tales were of native growth, or imported from the East or +elsewhere--and both sources are doubtless represented--once they had +passed through the Greek hands, the Greek spirit, "finely touched to +fine issues," marked them for its own with the beauty, vivacity, +dramatic interest, and imaginative outline and detail, which were +never absent from the best Greek work, least of all during the +centuries that lie between Homer and Plato. + +The eleven tales here presented from this vast store are (as will be +seen) very various both in date, character, and detail; and they seem +well chosen for their purpose. The writer of these English versions of +ancient stories has clearly aimed at a terse simplicity of style, +while giving full details, with occasional descriptive passages where +required to make the scene more vivid; and, for the same end, she has +rightly made free use of dialogue or soliloquy wherever the story +could thus be more pointedly or dramatically told. + +The first story, called "The Riddle of the Sphinx," gives us in brief +the whole Theban tale, from King Laius and the magical building of the +city, to the incomparable scene from Sophocles' last play, describing +the "Passing of OEdipus." It even includes the heroic action of +Antigone, in burying with due rites her dead brother, in spite of the +tyrant's threats, and at the cost of her own life. No tale was more +often treated in ancient poetry than this tragedy of Thebes. Homer and +Hesiod both refer to it, Æschylus wrote a whole trilogy, and +Sophocles three separate dramas, on this theme. Euripides dealt with +it in his "Phoenissæ," which survives, and in his "OEdipus and +Antigone," of which a few fragments remain. And several other poets +whose works are lost are known by the titles of their plays to have +dealt with the same subject. + +One other tale in this selection rests in large measure on the Attic +drama--namely, the story of Alcestis, the fourth in this series. As +far as we know, Euripides alone of the ancients treated this theme, in +his beautiful and interesting play "Alcestis," which is here closely +followed by our author. The past history of Admetus, the king, which +Euripides briefly summarises in the prologue, is here dramatized, and +adds much interest to the story, including as it does the Argonauts' +visit to Pelias, and the romantic imaginary scene of the king's first +meeting with Alcestis. + +The two charming love-stories which come second and third in this +series, though unquestionably Greek in origin, reach us from Roman +sources, and bear clear evidence in their form and spirit of belonging +to a later age. The character of the love romance in "Hero and +Leander" and the transparent allegory of "Eros and Psyche" (Love and +the Soul), leave little doubt on this point. The former tale is +ascribed to a late Greek epic poet, Musæus, of whom nothing else is +known; and the latter we owe to Apuleius, a Roman philosopher and man +of letters in the second century A.D. + +The fifth and tenth stories (in both of which Atalanta appears) rest +in their present shape on the authority of Apollodorus; but the +incidents of the Calydonian boar-hunt, and the race for the hand of +the princess, won by the suitor's clever trick of the golden apples, +are found as local traditions connected with two different parts of +Greece, Arcadia and Boeotia, and may be in their earliest form of +great antiquity. + +The two fanciful stories of Echo and Narcissus, and Alpheus and +Arethusa, which form the sixth and ninth in this series, are among the +prettiest of Nature myths, and are characteristic Greek inventions. +The chase of Arethusa under the sea by the river-god Alpheus was to a +Greek the most natural of fancies, for to him all water was protected +by, or identified with, some god, nymph, or spirit; and the fancy was +especially easy to a dweller in the limestone district of Arcadia, +where streams may run underground for long distances, and reappear as +full-grown rivers from a cavern at the foot of the hills. The tale of +Echo in its present form comes only from Latin poetry (Ovid); but the +fancy that Echo was a spirit or nymph, which is the heart of the +story, may well be of unknown antiquity, especially among the most +imaginative of races, living in a land of rocky hills, the native home +of echoes. + +Of the remaining stories (Pygmalion, Orpheus, and OEnone), the +briefest comment will suffice. The beautiful and pathetic tale of +Orpheus and Eurydice, which is best known to us from the incomparable +version of it at the close of Vergil's fourth "Georgic," we know on +good evidence to have been extant at least as early as Æschylus (fifth +century B.C.), and possibly much earlier. The touching story of +OEnone is post-Homeric, and is known to us only from Ovid and +Apollodorus. It is familiar to all Englishmen from the two beautiful +poems of Tennyson, which are respectively among the earliest and +latest of his works. The strange yet striking tale of Pygmalion also +comes to us from Apollodorus; and though it may be much older, it is +perhaps not likely to belong to an earlier time than the fourth +century B.C., a date which seems to be suggested both by the character +of the story, and the development of the art of sculpture implied in +it. + +It only remains to commend these beautiful old stories, in their +English dress, to the favour of those for whom they are intended. + + A. SIDGWICK. + + OXFORD, + _September 9, 1908_. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + THE RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX + EROS AND PSYCHE + HERO AND LEANDER + THE SACRIFICE OF ALCESTIS + HUNTING THE CALYDONIAN BOAR + THE CURSE OF ECHO + THE SCULPTOR AND THE IMAGE + THE DIVINE MUSICIAN + THE FLIGHT OF ARETHUSA + THE WINNING OF ATALANTA + PARIS AND OENONE + + + + + LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + + FRONTISPIECE--Each night Hero lighted her torch; each night + Leander swam across the narrow sea + TITLE-PAGE + Heading to Introduction + Heading to Contents + Heading to List of Illustrations + She put out her cruel claws and lashed her tail from side to + side like an angry lion waiting for his prey + With firm, unfaltering steps he led the way once more, and + Theseus followed after + On the bed, wrapped in slumber, lay the youngest and fairest of + the Immortals + Faster and faster he went, and up and down, and round and round + She unloosed the rope, and pushed out into the stream + "Help, help! I drown in this foul stream!" + She lowered her eyes in confusion, and her limbs trembled + beneath her, so that she leant back against the pillar for + support + From the shadow of the trees came the strange herdsman, playing + on his lyre + Admetus heeded neither shepherd nor shrine.... Without a thought + he passed the altar by + And the children crept silently to her + She answered him never a word, but held out both her hands and + raised him from his knees + As he spoke, he took her by the hand, and set her in a place of + honour between his father and himself + As the brute bore down, Meleager buried the spear deep in his + shoulder + For the last time he leaned forward + On the breath of the night wind Aphrodite came in, and she + kissed the statue on the lips + From the shadow of the cave crept a wood-nymph, and lay upon the + grass + "Orpheus," she cried in her despair, "thy hand!" + On and on she fled, with the swiftness and strength of despair + "Oh, my father!" she cried + Out of the corner of his eye he could see the gleam of her tunic + Out of the stream beside him there rose a wondrous form of a + maiden clad all in misty white + Menelaus was bearing him in triumph towards the Achæan host + Cast herself upon the body of Paris, and put her arms about his + neck + Initials, Tail-pieces, etc. + + + + +Children of the Dawn + + + + +The Riddle of the Sphinx + + +Far away towards the east and the regions of the rising sun lies the +fair land of Hellas, a land famous from of old for mighty deeds of +mighty men, and famous to this day among the nations of the earth; for +though the mighty men, her heroes, have long since passed away, their +names live on for ever in the pages of her grand old poets, who sing +of their deeds in strains which still kindle the hearts of men, and +stir them up to be heroes too, and fight life's battle bravely. + +Long ago, in the city of Thebes, there ruled a king named Laius and +his queen Iocasta. They were children of the gods, and Thebes itself, +men said, had been built by hands more than mortal; for Apollo had led +Cadmus the Phoenician, the son of Zeus, to the sacred spot where he +was to raise the citadel of Thebes, and Pallas Athene had helped him +to slay the monstrous dragon that guarded the sacred spring of Ares. +The teeth of the dragon, Cadmus took and planted in the plain of +Thebes, and from this seed there sprang up a great host of armed men, +who would have slain him; but he took a stone and cast it in their +midst, whereupon the serpent-men turned their arms one against +another, fighting up and down the plain till only five were left. With +the help of these five, Cadmus built the citadel of Thebes, and round +it made a wall so wide that a dozen men and more might walk upon it, +and so huge were the stones and so strong was the masonry that parts +of it are standing to this day. As for the city itself, the tale goes +that Amphion, the mightiest of all musicians, came with his lyre, and +so sweetly did he play that the hearts of the very stones were stirred +within them, so that of their own free-will they fell into their +places, and the town of Thebes rose up beneath the shadow of the +citadel. + +For many a long day did Laius and Iocasta rule over the people of +Thebes, and all that time they had no children; for a dreadful curse +lay on the head of Laius that, if ever he had a son, by that son's +hand he should die. At last a boy was born to them, and Laius, +remembering the curse, swore that the child should never grow to +manhood, and he bade Iocasta slay him forthwith. But she, being his +mother, was filled with a great love and pity for the helpless child. +When it nestled in her arms and clung to her breast she could not find +it in her heart to slay it, and she wept over it many a bitter salt +tear, and pressed it closer to her bosom. As the tiny fingers closed +round hers, and the soft head pressed against her, she murmured, + +"Surely, so little a thing can do no harm? Sweet babe, they say that I +must kill thee, but they know not a mother's love. Rather than that, I +will put thee away out of my sight, and never see thee more, though +the gods know I had sooner die than lose thee, my little one, my own +sweet babe." + +So she called a trusty house-slave, who knew the king's decree, and +placing the child in his arms, she said, + +"Go, take it away, and hide it in the hills. Perchance the gods will +have pity on it, and put it in the heart of some shepherd, who feeds +his flocks on distant pastures, to take the child home to his cot and +rear it. Farewell, my pretty babe. The green grass must be thy cradle, +and the mountain breezes must lull thee to sleep. May the gods in +their mercy bless thy childhood's hours, and make thy name famous +among men; for thou art a king's son, and a child of the Immortals, +and the Immortals forget not those that are born of their blood." + +So the man took the child from Iocasta; but, because he feared the +king's decree, he pierced its ankles and bound them together, for he +thought, + +"Surely, even if some shepherd wandering on the mountain-side should +light upon the child, he will never rear one so maimed; and if the +king should ask, I will say that he is dead." + +But because the child wept for the pain in its ankles, he took it home +first to his wife to be fed and comforted, and when she gave it back +into his arms, it smiled up into his face. Then all the hardness died +out of his heart, for the gods had shed about it a grace to kindle +love in the coldest breast. + +Now Cithæron lies midway between Thebes and Corinth, and in +winter-time the snow lies deep upon the summit, and the wild winds +shriek through the rocks and clefts, and the pine trees pitch and bend +beneath the fury of the blast, so that men called it the home of the +Furies, the Awful Goddesses, who track out sin and murder. And there, +too, in the streams and caverns, dwell the naiads and the nymphs, wild +spirits of the rocks and waters; and if any mortal trespass on their +haunts, they drive him to madness in their echoing grottoes and gloomy +caves. Yet, for all that, though men called it dark Cithæron, the +grass about its feet grew fine and green, so that the shepherds came +from all the neighbouring towns to pasture their flocks on its +well-watered slopes. Here it was that Laius's herdsman fell in with a +herdsman of Polybus, king of Corinth, and, seeing that he was a kindly +man, and likely to have compassion on the child, he gave it him to +rear. + +Now, it had not pleased the gods to grant any children to Polybus, +king of Corinth, and Merope, his wife, though they wreathed their +altars with garlands and burnt sweet savour of incense; and at last +all hope died out of their hearts, and they said, + +"The gods are angry, and will destroy our race, and the kingdom shall +pass into the hands of a stranger." + +But one day it chanced that the queen saw in the arms of one of her +women a child she had not seen before, and she questioned her, and +asked if it were hers. And the woman confessed that her husband, the +king's herdsman, had found it on dim Cithæron, and had taken pity on +it, and brought it home. Then the queen looked at the child, and +seeing that it was passing fair, she said, + +"Surely this is no common babe, but a child of the Immortals. His hair +is golden as the summer corn, and his eyes like the stars in heaven. +What if the gods have sent him to comfort our old age, and rule the +kingdom when we are dead? I will rear him in the palace as my own son, +and he shall be a prince in the land of Corinth." + +So the child lived in the palace, and became a son to Polybus and +Merope, and heir to the kingdom. For want of a name they called him +OEdipus, because his ankles, when they found him, were all swollen +by the pin that the herdsman had put through them. As he grew up, he +found favour in all men's eyes, for he was tall and comely and cunning +withal. + +"The gods are gracious," men said, "to grant the king such a son, and +the people of Corinth so mighty a prince, to rule over them in days to +come." + +For as yet they knew not that he was a foundling, and no true heir to +the throne. + +Now, while the child was still young, he played about the courts of +the palace, and in running and leaping and in feats of strength and +hardihood of heart there was none to beat him among his playmates, or +even to stand up against him, save one. But so well matched were these +two, that the other children would gather round them in a ring to +watch them box and wrestle, and the victor they would carry on their +shoulders round the echoing galleries with shouting and clapping of +hands; and sometimes it was OEdipus, and sometimes the other lad. +But at length there came a time when again and again OEdipus was +proved the stronger, and again and again the other slunk home beaten, +like a cur that has been whipped: and he brooded over his defeat, and +nourished hatred in his heart against OEdipus, and vowed that one +day he would have his revenge by fair means or by foul. + +But when Merope the queen saw OEdipus growing tall and fair, and +surpassing all his comrades in strength, she took him up one day on to +the citadel, and showed him all the lovely land of Hellas lying at his +feet. Below them spread the shining city, with its colonnades and +fountains and stately temples of the gods, like some jewel in the +golden sands, and far away to the westward stretched the blue +Corinthian Gulf, till the mountains of Ætolia seemed to join hands +with their sisters in Peloponnese. And she showed him the hills of +Arcadia, the land of song and shepherds, where Pan plays his pipe +beneath the oak-trees, and nymphs and satyrs dance all the day long. +Away to the bleak north-west stood out the snowy peaks of Mount +Parnassus and Helicon, the home of the Muses, who fill men's minds +with wisdom and their hearts with the love of all things beautiful. +Here the first narcissus blooms, and the olive and the myrtle and rosy +almond-blossom gently kiss the laughing rivulets and the shining, +dancing cascades. For Helicon was a fair and gentle youth whom his +cruel brother Cithæron slew in his mad jealousy. Whereupon the gods +changed them both into mountains, and Helicon is mild and fair to this +day, and the home of all good things; but Cithæron is bleak and +barren, because his hard heart had no pity, and the Furies haunt it +unceasingly. Then Merope turned him to the eastward and the land of +the Dawning Day, and showed him the purple peaks of Ægina and the +gleaming Attic shore. And she said to him, + +"OEdipus, my son, seest thou how Corinth lies midway 'twixt north +and south and east and west, a link to join the lands together and a +barrier to separate the seas?" + +And OEdipus answered, + +"Of a truth, mother, he who rules in Corinth hath need of a lion's +heart, for he must stand ever sword in hand and guard the passage from +north to south." + +"Courage is a mighty thing, my son, but wisdom is mightier. The sword +layeth low, but wisdom buildeth up. Seest thou the harbours on either +side, facing east and west, and the masts of the ships, like a forest +in winter, and the traffic of sailors and merchants on the shore? From +all lands they come and bring their wares and merchandise, and men of +every nation meet together. Think not, my son, that a lion's heart and +a fool's head therewith can ever be a match for the wisdom of Egypt or +the cunning of Phoenicia." + +Then OEdipus understood, and said, + +"Till now I have wrestled and boxed and run races with my fellows on +the sands the livelong day, and none can beat me. Henceforth I will +sit in the market-place and discourse with foreigners and learned men, +so that, when I come to rule in my father's place, I may be the wisest +in all the land." + +And Merope was pleased at his answer, but in her heart she was sad +that his simple childish days were past; and she prayed that if the +gods granted him wisdom they would keep his heart pure and free from +all uncleanness. + +So OEdipus sat in the market-place and talked with merchants and +travellers, and he went down to the ships in the harbour and learned +many strange things of strange lands--the wisdom of the Egyptians, +who were the wisest of all men in the south, and the cunning of the +Phoenicians, who were the greatest merchants and sailors in all the +world. But in the evening, when the sun was low in the west, and the +hills all turned to amethyst and sapphire, and the snow-mountains +blushed ruby red beneath his parting kiss, then along the smooth, gold +sands of the Isthmus, by the side of the sounding sea, he would box +and wrestle and run, till all the ways were darkened and the stars +stood out in the sky. For he was a true son of Hellas, and knew that +nine times out of every ten a slack body and a slack mind go together. + +So he grew up in his beauty, a very god for wisdom and might, and +there was no question he could not answer nor riddle he could not +solve, so that all the land looked up to him, and the king and queen +loved him as their own son. + +Now one day there was a great banquet in the palace, to which all the +noblest of the land were bidden, and the minstrels played and the +tumblers danced and the wine flowed freely round the board, so that +men's hearts were opened, and they talked of great deeds and heroes, +and boasted what they themselves could do. And OEdipus boasted as +loud as any, and challenged one and all to meet him in fair fight. But +the youth who had grown up with him in rivalry, and nourished jealousy +and hatred in his heart, taunted him to his face, and said, + +"Base born that thou art, and son of slave, thinkest thou that free +men will fight with thee? Lions fight not with curs, and though thou +clothe thyself with purple and gold, all men know that thou art no +true son to him thou callest thy sire." + +And this he said being flushed with wine, and because myriad-mouthed +Rumour had spread abroad the tale that OEdipus was a foundling, +though he himself knew nought thereof. + +Then OEdipus flushed red with rage, and swift as a gale that sweeps +down from the mountains he fell upon the other, and seizing him by the +throat, he shook him till he had not breath to beg for mercy. + +"What sayest thou now, thou whelp? Begone with thy lying taunt, now +that thou hast licked the dust for thy falsehood." + +And he flung him out from the hall. But Merope leant pale and sad +against a pillar, and veiled her face in her mantle to hide her tears. +And when they were alone, OEdipus took her hand and stroked it, and +said, + +"Grieve not for my fiery spirit, mother, but call me thine own son, +and say that I was right to silence the liar who would cast dishonour +upon my father's name and upon thee." + +But she looked at him sadly and longingly through her tears, and spoke +in riddling words, + +"The gods, my child, sent thee to thy father and to me in answer to +our prayers. A gift of God thou art, and a gift of God thou shalt be, +living and dead, to them that love thee. The flesh groweth old and +withereth away as a leaf, but the spirit liveth on for ever, and those +are the truest of kin who are kin in the spirit of goodness and of +love." + +But OEdipus was troubled, for she would say no more, but only held +his hand, and when he drew it away it was wet with her tears. Then he +thought in his heart, + +"Verily, my mother would not weep for nought. What if, after all, +there be something in the tale? I will go to the central shrine of +Hellas and ask the god of Truth, golden-haired Apollo. If he say it is +a lie, verily I will thrust it back down that coward's throat, and the +whole land shall ring with his infamy. And if it be true--the gods +will guide me how to act." + +So he set forth alone upon his pilgrimage. And he took the road that +runs by the side of the sea and up past Mount Gerania, with its +pine-clad slopes, where Megarus, the son of Zeus, took refuge, when +the floods covered all the land and only the mountain-tops stood out +like islands in the sea. For he followed the cry of the cranes as they +sought refuge from the waters, and was saved, and founded the city of +Megara, which is called by his name to this day. Right past +Ægosthena--the home of the black-footed goats--went OEdipus to +Creusis, along the narrow rocky path between the mountains and the +sea, where a man must needs be sure of foot and steady of head, if he +is to stand against the storms that sweep down from bleak Cithæron. +For the winds rush shrieking down the hills like Furies in their +wrath, and they sweep all that stands in their way over the beetling +cliffs into the yawning, seething gulf below, and those that fall into +her ravening jaws she devours like some wild beast, and they are seen +no more. Then he went through fertile Thisbe past the little port of +Tipha, the home of Tiphys, helmsman of the famous Argonauts, who +sailed to nameless lands and unknown seas in their search for the +Golden Fleece. And many a roaring torrent did he cross, as it rushed +foaming down from the steep white cliffs of Helicon, and over +pathless mountains, past rocky Anticyra and the hills of hellebore, +and through the barren plain of Cirrha, till he came to rock-built +Crisa and the fair Crisean plain, the land of cornfields and vineyards +and the grey-green olive-groves, where in spring-time the pomegranate +and oleander flowers shine out red as beacon-fires by night. + +There he had well-nigh reached his journey's end, and his heart beat +fast as he mingled with the band of pilgrims, each bound on his +different quest to the god of Light and Truth, golden-haired Apollo, +the mightiest of the sons of Zeus and the slayer of Pytho, the famous +dragon. At Delphi is his shrine and dwelling-place, and there within +his temple stands the sacred stone which fell from heaven and marks +the centre of the earth. A great gulf yawns beneath, a mighty fissure +going deep down into the bowels of the earth to the regions of the +dead and the land of endless night; and deadly fumes rise up and +noxious mists and vapours, so that the Pythian priestess, who sits +above on her brazen tripod, is driven to frenzy by their power. Then +it is that she hears the voice of Apollo, and her eyes are opened to +see what no mortal can see, and her ears to hear the secrets of the +gods and Fate. Those things which Apollo bids her she chants to the +pilgrims in mystic verse, which only the wise can interpret aright. So +from north and south and east and west men flocked to hear her +prophecies, and the fame of Apollo's shrine went out through every +land--from Ocean's stream and the Pillars of Heracles to the far +Ionian shore and Euphrates, the mighty river of the East. + +OEdipus drew near to the sacred place and made due sacrifice, and +washed in the great stone basin, and put away all uncleanness from his +heart, and went through the portals of rock to the awful shrine +within, where the undying fire burns night and day and the sacred +laurel stands. And he put his question to the god and waited for an +answer. Through the dim darkness of the shrine he saw the priestess on +her tripod, veiled in a mist of incense and vapour, and as the power +of the god came upon her she beheld the things of the future and the +hidden secrets of Fate. And she raised her hand towards OEdipus, and +with pale lips spoke the words of doom, + +"OEdipus, ill-fated, thine own sire shalt thou slay." + +As she spoke the words his head swam round like a whirlpool, and his +heart seemed turned to stone; then, with a loud and bitter cry, he +rushed from the temple, through the thronging crowd of pilgrims down +into the Sacred Way, and the people moved out of his path like +shadows. Blindly he sped along the stony road, down through the pass +to a place where three roads meet, and he shuddered as he crossed +them; for Fear laid her cold hand upon his heart and filled it with a +wild, unreasoning dread, and branded the image of that awful spot upon +his brain so that he could never forget it. On every side the +mountains frowned down upon him, and seemed to echo to and fro the +doom which the priestess had spoken. Straight forward he went like +some hunted thing, turning neither to right nor left, till he came to +a narrow path, where he met an old man in a chariot drawn by mules, +with his trusty servants round him. + +"Ho! there, thou madman!" they shouted; "stand by and let the chariot +pass." + +"Madmen yourselves," he cried, for his sore heart could not brook the +taunt. "I am a king's son, and will stand aside for no man." + +So he tried to push past them by force, though he was one against +many. And the old man stretched out his hand as though to stop him, +but as well might a child hope to stand up against a wild bull. For he +thrust him aside and felled him from his seat, and turned upon his +followers, and, striking out to right and left, he stunned one and +slew another, and forced his way through in blind fury. But the old +man lay stiff and still upon the road. The fall from the chariot had +quenched the feeble spark of life within him, and his spirit fled away +to the house of Hades and the kingdom of the Dead. One trusty servant +lay slain by his side, and the other senseless and stunned, and when +he awoke, to find his master and his comrades slain, OEdipus was far +upon his way. + +On and on he went, over hill and dale and mountain-stream, till at +length his strength gave way, and he sank down exhausted. And black +despair laid hold of his heart, and he said within himself, + +"Better to die here on the bare hill-side and be food for the kites +and crows than return to my father's house to bring death to him and +sorrow to my mother's heart." + +But sweet sleep fell upon him, and when he awoke hope and the love of +life put other thoughts in his breast. And he remembered the words +which Merope the queen had spoken to him one day when he was boasting +of his strength and skill. + +"Strength and skill, my son, are the gifts of the gods, as the rain +which falleth from heaven and giveth life and increase to the fruits +of the earth. But man's pride is an angry flood that bringeth +destruction on field and city. Remember that great gifts may work +great good or great evil, and he who has them must answer to the gods +below if he use them well or ill." + +And he thought within himself, + +"'Twere ill to die if, even in the uttermost parts of the earth, men +need a strong man's arm and a wise man's cunning. Never more will I +return to far-famed Corinth and my home by the sounding sea, but to +far-distant lands will I go and bring blessing to those who are not of +my kin, since to mine own folk I must be a curse if ever I return." + +So he went along the road from Delphi till he came to seven-gated +Thebes. There he found all the people in deep distress and mourning, +for their king Laius was dead, slain by robbers on the high road, and +they had buried him far from his native land at a place where three +roads meet. And, worse still, their city was beset by a terrible +monster, the Sphinx, part eagle and part lion, with the face of a +woman, who every day devoured a man because they could not answer the +riddle she set them. All this OEdipus heard as he stood in the +market-place and talked with the people. + +"What is this famous riddle that none can solve?" he asked. + +"Alas! young man, that none can say. For he that would solve the +riddle must go up alone to the rock where she sits. Then and there she +chants the riddle, and if he answer it not forthwith she tears him +limb from limb. And if none go up to try the riddle, then she swoops +down upon the city and carries off her victims, and spares not woman +or child. Our wisest and bravest have gone up and our eyes have seen +them no more. Now there is no man left who dare face the terrible +beast." + +Then OEdipus said, + +"I will go up and face this monster. It must be a hard riddle indeed +if I cannot answer it." + +"Oh, overbold and rash," they cried, "thinkest thou to succeed where +so many have failed?" + +"Better to try, and fail, than never to try at all." + +"Yet, where failure is death, surely a man should think twice?" + +"A man can die but once, and how better than in trying to save his +fellows?" + +As they looked at his strong young limbs and his fair young face they +pitied him. + +"Stranger," they said, "who art thou to throw away thy life thus +heedlessly? Are there none at home to mourn thee and no kingdom thou +shouldst rule? For, of a truth, thou art a king's son and no common +man." + +"Nay, were I to return, my home would be plunged in mourning and woe, +and the people would drive me from my father's house." + +They marvelled at his answer, but dared question him no further; and, +seeing that nothing would turn him from his purpose, they showed him +the path to the Sphinx's rock, and all the people went out with him to +the gate with prayers and blessings. At the gate they left him, for he +who goes up to face the Sphinx must go alone, and none can stand by +and help him. So he went through the Crenean gate and across the +stream of Dirce into the wide plain, and the mountain of the Sphinx +stood out dark and clear on the other side. Then he prayed to Pallas +Athene, the grey-eyed goddess of Wisdom, and she took all fear from +his heart. So he went up boldly to the rock, where the monster sat +waiting to spring upon her prey; yet for all his courage his heart +beat fast as he looked on her. For at first she appeared like a mighty +bird, with great wings of bronze and gold, and the glancing sunbeams +played about them, casting a halo of light around, and in the midst of +the halo her face shone out pale and beautiful as a star at dawn. But +when she saw him coming near, a greedy fire lit up her eyes, and she +put out her cruel claws and lashed her tail from side to side like an +angry lion waiting for his prey. Nevertheless, OEdipus spoke to her +fair and softly, + +"Oh, lady, I am come to hear thy famous riddle and answer it or die." + +"Foolhardy manling, a dainty morsel the gods have sent this day, with +thy fair young face and fresh young limbs." + +And she licked her cruel lips. + +Then OEdipus felt his blood boil within him, and he wished to slay +her then and there; for she who had been the fairest of women was now +the foulest of beasts, and he saw that by her cruelty and lust she had +killed the woman's soul within her, and the soul of a beast had taken +its place. + +"Come, tell me thy famous riddle, foul Fury that thou art, that I may +answer it and rid the land of this curse." + +"At dawn it creeps on four legs; at noon it strides on two; at sunset +and evening it totters on three. What is this thing, never the same, +yet not many, but one?" + +[Illustration: "She put out her cruel claws and lashed her tail from +side to side like an angry lion waiting for his prey."] + +So she chanted slowly, and her eyes gleamed cruel and cold. + +Then thought OEdipus within himself, + +"Now or never must my learning and wit stand me in good stead, or in +vain have I talked with the wisest of men and learnt the secrets of +Phoenicia and Egypt." + +And the gods who had given him understanding sent light into his +heart, and boldly he answered, + +"What can this creature be but man, O Sphinx? For, a helpless babe at +the dawn of life, he crawls on his hands and feet; at noontide he +walks erect in the strength of his manhood; and at evening he supports +his tottering limbs with a staff, the prop and stay of old age. Have I +not answered aright and guessed thy famous riddle?" + +Then with a loud cry of despair, and answering him never a word, the +great beast sprang up from her seat on the rock and hurled herself +over the precipice into the yawning gulf beneath. Far away across the +plain the people heard her cry, and they saw the flash of the sun on +her brazen wings like a gleam of lightning in the summer sky. +Thereupon they sent up a great shout of joy to heaven, and poured out +from every gate into the open plain, and some raised OEdipus upon +their shoulders, and with shouts and songs of triumph bore him to the +city. Then and there they made him king with one accord, for the old +king had left no son behind him, and who more fitted to rule over them +than the slayer of the Sphinx and the saviour of their city? + +So OEdipus became king of Thebes, and wisely and well did he rule, +and for many a long year the land prospered both in peace and war. But +the day came when a terrible pestilence broke out, and the people died +by hundreds, so that at last OEdipus sent messengers to Delphi to +ask why the gods were angry and had sent a plague upon the land. And +this was the answer they brought back, + +"There is an unclean thing in Thebes. Never has the murderer of Laius +been found, and he dwells a pollution in the land. Though the +vengeance of the gods is slow, yet it cometh without fail, and the +shedding of blood shall not pass unpunished." + +Then OEdipus made proclamation through the land that if any man knew +who the murderer was, they should give him up to his doom and appease +the anger of Heaven. And he laid a terrible curse on any who dared to +give so much as a crust of bread or a draught of water to him who had +brought such suffering on the land. So throughout the country far and +wide a search was made to track out the stain of blood and cleanse the +city from pollution, but day after day the quest was fruitless, and +the pestilence raged unceasingly, and darkness fell upon the soul of +the people, as their prayers remained unanswered and their +burnt-offerings smoked in vain upon the altars of the gods. Then at +last OEdipus sent for the blind seer Teiresias, who had lived +through six generations of mortal men, and was the wisest of all +prophets on earth. He knew the language of the birds, and, though his +eyes were closed in darkness, his ears were opened to hear the secrets +of the universe, and he knew the hidden things of the past and of the +future. But at first when he came before the king he would tell him +nothing, but begged him to question no further. + +"For the things of the future will come of themselves," he cried, +"though I shroud them in silence, and evil will it be for thee, O +king, and evil for thine house if I speak out the knowledge that is +hidden in my heart." + +At last OEdipus grew angry at his silence, and taunted him, + +"Verily, me thinks thou thyself didst aid in the plotting of this +deed, seeing that thou carest nought for the people bowed down beneath +the pestilence and the dark days that are fallen on the land, so be it +thou canst shield the murderer and escape thyself from the curse of +the gods." + +Then Teiresias was stung past bearing, and would hold his tongue no +longer. "By thine own doom shalt thou be judged, O king," he said. +"Thou thyself art the murderer, thyself the pollution that staineth +the land with the blood of innocent men." + +Then OEdipus laughed aloud, + +"Verily, old man, thou pratest. What rival hath urged thee to this +lie, hoping to drive me from the throne of Thebes? Of a truth, not +thine eyes only, but thy heart, is shrouded in a mist of darkness." + +"Woe to thee, OEdipus, woe to thee! Thou hast sight, yet seest not +who thou art, nor knowest the deed of thine hand. Soon shalt thou +wander sightless and blind, a stranger in a strange land, feeling the +ground with a staff, and men shall shrink back from thee in horror +when they hear thy name and the deed that thou hast done." + +And the people were hushed by the words of the old man, and knew not +what to think. But the wife of OEdipus, who stood by his side, said, + +"Hearken not to him, my lord. For verily no mortal can search the +secrets of Fate, as I can prove full well by the words of this same +man that he spoke in prophecy. For he it was who said that Laius, the +king who is dead, should be slain by the hand of his own son. However, +that poor innocent never grew to manhood, but was exposed on the +trackless mountain-side to die of cold and hunger; and Laius, men say, +was slain by robber bands at a place where three roads meet. So +hearken not to seer-craft, ye people, nor trust in the words of one +who is proved a false prophet." + +But her words brought no comfort to OEdipus, and a dreadful fear +came into his heart, like a cold, creeping snake, as he listened. For +he thought of his journey from Delphi, and of how in his frenzy he had +struck down an old man and his followers at a place where three roads +meet. When he questioned her further, the time and the place and the +company all tallied, save only that rumour had it that Laius had been +slain by robber bands, whilst he had been single-handed against many. + +"Was there none left," he asked, "who saw the deed and lived to tell +the tale?" + +"Yea, one faithful follower returned to bear the news, but so soon as +the Sphinx was slain and the people had made thee king he went into +distant pastures with his flocks, for he could not brook to see a +stranger in his master's place, albeit he had saved the land from +woe." + +"Go, summon him," said OEdipus. "If the murderers were many, as +rumour saith, with his aid we may track them out; but if he was one +man single-handed--yea, though that man were myself--of a truth he +shall be an outcast from the land, that the plague may be stayed from +the people. Verily, my queen, my heart misgives me when I remember my +wrath and the deed that I wrought at the cross-roads." + +In vain she tried to comfort him, for a nameless fear had laid hold of +his heart. + +Now, while they were waiting for the herdsman to come, a messenger +arrived in haste from Corinth to say that Polybus was dead, and that +OEdipus was chosen king of the land, for his fame had gone out far +and wide as the slayer of the Sphinx and the wisest of the kings of +Hellas. When OEdipus heard the news, he bowed his head in sorrow to +hear of the death of the father he had loved, and turning to the +messenger, he said, + +"For many a long year my heart hath yearned toward him who is dead, +and verily my soul is grieved that I shall see him no more in the +pleasant light of the sun. But for the oracle's sake I stayed in +exile, that my hand might not be red with a father's blood. And now I +thank the gods that he has passed away in a green old age, in the +fulness of years and of honour." + +But the messenger wondered at his words. + +"Knewest thou not, then, that Polybus was no father to thee in the +flesh, but that for thy beauty and thy strength he chose thee out of +all the land to be a son to him and heir to the kingdom of Corinth?" + +"What sayest thou, bearer of ill news that thou art?" cried OEdipus. +"To prove that same tale of thine a slanderous lie I went to Delphi, +and there the priestess prophesied that I should slay mine own sire. +Wherefore I went not back to my native land, but have lived in exile +all my days." + +"Then in darkness of soul hast thou lived, O king. For with mine own +hands I received thee as a babe from a shepherd on dim Cithæron, from +one of the herdsmen of Laius, who was king before thee in this land." + +"Woe is me, then! The curse of the gods is over me yet. I know not my +sire, and unwittingly I may slay him and rue the evil day. And a cloud +of darkness hangeth over me for the slaying of King Laius. But lo! +they bring the herdsman who saw the deed done, and pray Heaven he may +clear me from all guilt. Bring him forward that I may question him." + +Then they brought the man forward before the king, though he shrank +back and tried to hide himself. When the messenger from Corinth saw +him he started back in surprise, for it was the very man from whose +hands he had taken OEdipus on the mountain-side. And he said to the +king, + +"Behold the man who will tell thee the secret of thy birth. From his +hands did I take thee as a babe on dim Cithæron." + +Then OEdipus questioned the man, and at first he denied it from +fear, but at last he was fain to confess. + +"And who gave me to thee to slay on the barren mountain-side?" + +"I pray thee, my king, ask no more. Some things there are that are +better unsaid." + +"Nay, tell me, and fear not. I care not if I am a child of shame and +slavery stains my birth. A son of Fortune the gods have made me, and +have given me good days with the evil. Speak out, I pray thee. Though +I be the son of a slave, I can bear it." + +"No son of a slave art thou, but seed of a royal house. Ask me no +more, my king." + +"Speak, speak, man. Thou drivest me to anger, and I will make thee +tell, though it be by force." + +"Ah! lay not cruel hands upon me. For thine own sake I would hide it. +From the queen thy mother I had thee, and thy father was--Laius the +king. At the cross-roads from Delphi didst thou meet him in his +chariot, and slew him unwittingly in thy wrath. Ah, woe is me! For the +gods have chosen me out to be an unwilling witness to the truth of +their oracles." + +Then a great hush fell upon all the people like the lull before a +storm. For the words of the herdsman were so strange and terrible that +at first they could scarce take in their meaning. But when they +understood that OEdipus was Laius's own son, and that he had +fulfilled the dreadful prophecy and slain his sire, a great tumult +arose, some saying one thing and some another; but the voice of +OEdipus was heard above the uproar, + +"Ah, woe is me, woe is me! The curse of the gods is upon me, and none +can escape their wrath. Blindly have I done this evil, and when I was +striving to escape Fate caught me in her hidden meshes. Oh, foolish +hearts of men, to think that ye can flee from the doom of the gods; +for lo! ye strive in the dark, and your very struggles bind you but +closer in the snare of your fate. Cast me from the land, ye people; do +with me what ye will. For the gods have made me a curse and a +pollution, and by my death alone will the land have rest from the +pestilence." + +And the people would have taken him at his word; for fickle is the +heart of the multitude, and swayed this way and that by every breath +of calamity. They were sore stricken, too, by the pestilence, and in +their wrath against the cause of it they forgot the slaying of the +Sphinx and the long days of peace and prosperity. But the blind seer +Teiresias rose up in their midst, and at his voice the people were +silent. + +"Citizens of Cadmus, foolish and blind of heart! Will ye slay the +saviour of your city? Have ye forgotten the man-devouring Sphinx and +the days of darkness? Verily prosperity blunteth the edge of +gratitude. And thou, OEdipus, curse not the gods for thine evil +fate. He that putteth his finger in the fire is burnt, whether he do +it knowingly or not. As to thy sire, him indeed didst thou slay in +ignorance; but the shedding of man's blood be upon thine own head, for +that was the fruit of thy wrathful spirit, which, through lack of +curbing, broke forth like an angry beast. Hadst thou never slain a +man, never wouldst thou have slain thy sire. But now thou art a +pollution to the land of thy birth, and by long exile and wandering +must thou expiate thy sin and die a stranger in a strange land. Yet +methinks that in the dark mirror of prophecy I see thy form, as it +were, a guardian to the land of thy last resting-place, and in a grove +of sacred trees thy spirit's lasting habitation, when thy feet have +accomplished the ways of expiation and the days of thy wandering are +done." + +So the people were silenced. But OEdipus would not be comforted, +and in his shame and misery he put out his own eyes because they had +looked on unspeakable things. Then he clothed himself in rags and took +a pilgrim's staff, to go forth alone upon his wanderings. And the +people were glad at his going, because the plague had hardened their +hearts, and they cared nothing for his grey hairs and sightless eyes, +nor remembered all he had done for them, but thought only how the +plague might be stayed. Even Eteocles and Polyneices, his own sons, +showed no pity, but would have let him go forth alone, that they might +live on the fatness of the land. For their hardness of heart they were +punished long after, when they quarrelled as to which should be king, +and brought down the flood of war upon Thebes, and fell each by the +other's hand in deadly strife. Of all his children, Antigone alone +refused to let him go forth a solitary wanderer, and would listen to +none of his entreaties when he spoke of the hardness of the way that +would lie before them. + +"Nay, father," she cried; "thinkest thou that I could suffer thee to +wander sightless and blind in thine old age with none to stay thy +feeble steps or lend thee the light of their eyes?" + +"The road before us is hard and long, my child, and no man can say +when my soul shall find rest. The ways of the world are cruel, and men +love not the cursed of the gods. As for thee, Heaven bless thee for +thy love; but thou art too frail and tender a thing to eat of the +bread and drink of the waters of sorrow." + +"Ah, father, thinkest thou that aught could be more bitter than to sit +in the seat of kings whilst thou wanderest a beggar on the face of +the earth? Nay, suffer me to go with thee, and stay thy steps in the +days of thy trial." + +Nothing he could say would dissuade her. So they two set out alone +upon their wanderings, the old man bowed down beneath the weight of +sorrow, and the young girl in the freshness of youth and beauty, with +a great love in her heart--a bright, burning love which was the light +by which she lived, and a light which never led her astray. For love +guided her into desolate places and through many a pathless +wilderness, and at length brought her in the flower of her maidenhood +to the very gates of death; yet when the cloud of earthly sorrow hung +darkest over her head, love it was that lifted the veil of doubt, and +cast about her name a halo of glory that will never fade. And all the +story of her love and how she buried her brother Polyneices, though +she knew it was death to cast so much as a handful of dust upon his +body, you may read in one of the noblest plays that has ever been +written. + +So she and OEdipus set out upon their wanderings. At first OEdipus +was filled with shame and bitterness, and cursed the day of his birth +and his evil fate; but as time went on he remembered the words of +Teiresias--how at his death he should be a blessing to the land of his +last resting-place; and the hope sprang up in his heart that the gods +had not forsaken him, but would wipe out the stain of his sin, and +make his name once more glorious among men. Daily this hope grew +stronger and brighter, and he felt that the days of wandering and +expiation were drawing to a close, and a mysterious power guided his +steps he knew not whither, except that it was towards the goal of his +release. So they wandered on across the Theban plain and over dim +Cithæron, till they came to the torch-lit strand of Eleusis and +Demeter's sacred shrine, and the broad plain of Rarus, where +Triptolemus first taught men to drive a furrow and sow the golden +grain. And they went along the Sacred Way which leads to Athens, with +the circling mountains on their left, and to the right the blue +Saronic Gulf and the peaks of sea-girt Salamis. And many a hero's +grave did they pass and many a sacred shrine, for all along that road +men of old raised monuments to the undying glory of the dead and the +heritage of honour which they left to unborn generations. And always +Antigone tended the old man's feeble steps, and lent him the light of +her young eyes, till at length they came to white Colonus and the +grove of the Eumenides. There she set him on a rock to rest his weary +limbs. And the soft spring breezes played about them, and the clear +waters of Cephisus flowed sparkling at their feet to the fertile plain +below. In the dark coverts and green glades the nightingale trilled +her sweet song, and the grass was bright with many a golden crocus and +white narcissus bloom. As he sat there a great calm filled the old +man's heart, for he felt that the days of his wandering were done. But +while they were resting a man from the village happened to pass, and +when he saw them he shouted out, + +"Ho! there, impious wanderers, know ye not that ye sit on sacred land +and trespass on hallowed ground?" + +Then OEdipus knew more surely than ever that the day of his release +had come. + +"Oh, stranger!" he cried, "welcome is that which thou sayest. For +here shall the words of the prophet be fulfilled, when he said that in +a grove of sacred trees my spirit should find rest." + +But the man was not satisfied, and he called to a band of his +countrymen who were in the fields close by. And they came up and spoke +roughly to OEdipus, and asked his name and business. When he told +them they were filled with horror, for all men had heard of the +slaying of Laius, and they would have turned him out by force. But +OEdipus raised himself from the rock on which he was seated, and in +spite of his beggar's rags and sightless eyes, there was a majesty +about his face and form that marked him as no common man. + +"Men of Colonus," he said, "ye judge by the evil I have done, and not +by the good. Have ye forgotten the days when the name of OEdipus was +honoured throughout the land? Of a truth the days of darkness came, +and the stain of my sin found me out. But now is my wrathful spirit +curbed, and the gods will make me once more a blessing to men. Go, +tell your king Theseus, who rules in Athena's sacred citadel, that +OEdipus is here, and bid him come with all speed if he would win a +guardian for this land, an everlasting safeguard for his city in days +of storm and stress." + +So they sent off a messenger in hot haste, for there was a mysterious +power about the aged wanderer that none could withstand. And soon +Theseus arrived, himself a mighty hero, who had made Athens a great +city and rid the country of many a foul pestilence. And he greeted +OEdipus courteously and kindly, as befitted a great prince, and +offered him hospitality. But OEdipus said, + +"The hospitality I crave, O king, is for no brief sojourn in this +land. Nay, 'tis an everlasting home I ask. For the hand of Heaven is +upon me, and full well I know that this day my soul shall leave this +frail and broken body. And to thee alone is it given to know where my +bones shall rest--to thee and thy seed after thee. As long as my bones +shall remain in the land, so long shall my spirit watch over it, and +men shall call upon my name to turn the tide of battle and stay the +flood of pestilence and war. Wilt thou come with me, O king, whither +the gods shall lead, and learn the secret of my grave?" + +Then Theseus bowed his head, and answered, + +"Show thou the way, and I will come." + +So OEdipus turned and led the way into the grove, and Theseus and +Antigone followed after. For a mysterious power seemed to guide him, +and he walked as one who could see, and his steps were strong and firm +as those of a man in his prime. Straight into the grove did he go till +they came to the heart of the wood, where there was a sacred well +beneath a hollow pear-tree. Close by was a great chasm going deep down +into the bowels of the earth, and men called it the Gate of Hades, the +Kingdom of the Dead. Here, too, the Awful Goddesses were worshipped +under a new and gentler name. For after they had driven the murderer +Orestes up and down the land for his sin, he came at length to Athens +to stand his trial before gods and men. And mercy tempered justice and +released him from blood-guiltiness, and the Furies laid aside their +wrath and haunted him no more. So the people of Athens built them +shrines and sanctuaries, and worshipped them as Eumenides, the Kindly +Maidens. And now once more a wanderer was to find rest there from his +sin. + +When they reached the well, OEdipus sat down upon a rock and called +his daughter to his side, and said, + +"Antigone, my child, thy hand hath ministered to me in exile, and +smoothed the path for the wanderer's feet. Go now, fetch water, and +pour libation and drink-offering to the gods below. It is the last +thing thou canst do for me on earth." + +So Antigone fetched water from the well, and dressed and tended him, +and poured libation to the gods. And when she had finished, OEdipus +drew her to him and kissed her tenderly, and said, + +"Grieve not for me, my child. Well I know that thy heart will ache, +for love hath made light the burden of toil. But for me life's day is +done, and I go to my rest. Do thou seek thy brethren, and be to them +as thou hast been to me. My child, my child, hard is the way that lies +before thee, and my soul yearneth over thee for the evil day that +shall come. But look thou to thine own pure heart, on which the gods +have set the seal of truth that changeth not with passing years, and +heed not the counsels of men." + +And he held her closely to him, and she clung weeping about his neck. +As they sat a hush fell upon the grove, and the nightingales ceased +their song, and from the depths of the grove a voice was heard like +the voice of distant thunder. + +"OEdipus, OEdipus, why dost thou tarry?" + +When they heard it they were afraid. But OEdipus rose up and gently +put his daughter from him, saying, + +[Illustration: "With firm, unfaltering steps he led the way once more, +and Theseus followed after."] + +"Lo! the voice of Zeus, who calleth me. Fare thee well, my child; thou +canst go no further with me. For Theseus only is it meet to see the +manner of my death, and he and I must go forward alone into the wood." + +With firm, unfaltering steps he led the way once more, and Theseus +followed after. And what happened there none can tell, for Theseus +kept the secret to his dying day. But men say that when he came out of +the wood his face was as the face of one who had seen things passing +mortal speech. As for OEdipus, the great twin Brethren Sleep and +Death carried his bones to Athens, where the people built him a +shrine, and for many a long year they honoured him as a hero in the +land of Attica. For though the sin that he sinned in his wrath and +ignorance was great and terrible, yet his life had brought joy to many +men and prosperity to more lands than one. For with wisdom and love he +guided his days, and with sorrow and tears he wiped out the stain of +his sin, so that, in spite of all he suffered, men love to tell of the +glory and wisdom of OEdipus, and of how he solved the riddle of the +Sphinx. + + + + +Eros and Psyche + + +I + +In the blue waters of the Ægean Sea, midway between Greece and Egypt, +lies the fertile land of Crete. Here, long, long ago, when the gods +still walked on earth in human form and the sons of men were as +children playing in a fair garden, there ruled a king who was the +father of three lovely daughters. They lived in a palace in the rich +Omphalian plain, beneath the shade of snow-capped Ida, surrounded by +smiling gardens and fruitful vineyards, with a glimpse, away to the +southward, of the sparkling Mediterranean Sea. So great was the beauty +of these three maidens that their fame went abroad throughout all the +land, and wealthy wooers flocked from far and wide to win their hands +in marriage. The two elder sisters soon became the brides of two great +princes, and were well content to pass their days in the sunshine of +their husbands' love and admiration, and to deck themselves with gold +and jewels, and listen to the praise of their beauty upon the lips of +men. For the gods had given them grace of form and feature, but their +souls within were vain and foolish, so that in after-years, when they +found their sister more blessed than they, their vanity and envy +brought them to an evil end. + +The youngest sister, whose name was Psyche, continued to live on at +home long after the other two were married. In face and form she was +as fair as they, whilst her soul within was so pure and beautiful that +it shed a heavenly radiance about her, so that when men looked into +her face all thoughts of love and wooing died out of their hearts, and +they worshipped her as one of the Immortals. Wherever she passed +voices were hushed and heads were bowed in prayer, till at length it +was rumoured that Aphrodite herself, the Queen of Love, had come to +live with men. The temples stood deserted and the altars bare of +sacrifice, and from far and wide men flocked to Psyche with gifts and +garlands and songs of praise. + +Then foam-born Aphrodite, Queen of Love, was filled with jealousy and +wrath that a mortal should usurp her place and name, and she cast +about in her mind for some means of revenge. + +"Verily, I must make this Cretan maiden rue the day when first men +laid my offerings at her feet. I will smite her with so dire a malady +that her very beauty shall be turned to scorn, and the heights to +which her impious pride hath raised her shall be as nought to the +depths of her shame and misery." + +Thereupon she sent for her son, the great god Eros, who lords it over +gods and men. The poison of his fiery darts none can withstand, and +with him it rests to burn men's hearts with the fever of unsatisfied +desire, or so to temper the venom of his shafts that it runs like +heavenly nectar through the veins. Yet the joy that he gives withal is +akin to madness, and the torture of his wrath a frenzy unquenchable. + +"Best-beloved son," she said, "if thou carest aught for thy mother's +name and fame, thou wilt hasten now to do my bidding. In midmost Crete +there dwells a maid--Psyche by name--whose impious pride hath cast +dishonour on my godhead. The offerings that are mine by right are cast +before her feet. My temples stand devoid of worshippers, who flock to +pay her court; and all this not in Crete alone, but from the farthest +shores of Hellas men cross the sea in white-winged ships to gaze upon +her face. Go now, I pray thee, and smite her with a poisoned arrow +from thy bow. Make her to love some loathly monster, deformed in soul +and body, and with a passion so shameless and all-consuming that men +shall spurn her, even as now they haste to pay their vows. As thou +lovest me, go with all speed and do my bidding." + +So Eros sped away to fulfil Aphrodite's command, and plant in the +heart of Psyche the image of a dark and dreadful monster, and make her +love it. As she slept he came and stood beside her, armed with his bow +and poisoned arrows. But when he looked upon her his arm fell lifeless +by his side, and the arrows slipped out of his hand, for never had he +looked on one so fair; and her beauty smote his heart as surely as +ever one of his own shafts had pierced a mortal's breast. From that +moment he loved her with all his soul, and swore that no harm should +ever come to her through him, but that he himself and no other, +whether man or monster, should be her bridegroom. And he picked up the +arrow and put it back into the sheath. + +"If she can trust me," he said, "she shall never feel a wound from one +of these. I will carry her away, and she shall be mine; but till the +gods are reconciled that I should wed a mortal, and my mother's anger +is appeased, I must visit her only in the night-time, and she must not +know who I am nor see my face. When the gods have proved her and found +her worthy of me, then will I reveal myself to her, and through my +love she shall be immortal, and dwell with me for ever in the shining +courts of heaven." + +And he bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips. She smiled in her +sleep and held out her arms towards him, and he knew that his kiss had +kindled in her heart the light of love. + +Aphrodite, meanwhile, with her mind at rest, took her way along the +shell-strewn curve of a sandy bay, and laughing ripples made music at +her feet. The Sun was slowly sinking to his bed in Ocean's stream, and +Night rode in her crescent car across the calm green vault of heaven. +From Aphrodite's feet a broad gold path of light led straight to the +sunset realms of Helios, the sun-god, and as she waited on the shore, +a band of dolphins ploughed the sea towards her. In their wake came +Tritons blowing on soft-voiced conches, and some drew a pearly shell +behind and pushed it to the shore and bade her enter. + +"Great Helios bids thee to his midnight revelry, O Queen of Love," +they cried, "and we are come to guide thee along the golden pathway +to the glowing palaces of Sunset Land." + +As the goddess stepped into the shell, they blew a loud salute upon +their conches, and spread a silken sail above her head, and with music +and laughter they crossed the shining sea to the golden halls of +Helios. + + +II + +Psyche, meanwhile, all unconscious of the wrath she had kindled in the +breast of Aphrodite, was pining away at home in loneliness of heart. +Little did she care for the worship that men paid her or for the +offerings that they laid at her feet. It was for the love of a husband +that she longed, and her soul was starving in the midst of rich gifts +and the rapt, adoring gaze of worshippers. Her melancholy fastened on +the king her father, and on all the palace, and soothsayers and augurs +crowded round the doors with omens, charms, and riddling words, and +prophesied all manner of evil. + +At last the king could bear it no longer, and he set forth on +pilgrimage to Apollo's shrine at Delphi, and made question of the +oracle. + +"Have the gods ordained that Psyche, my daughter, should die unwed, +though the fairest maid on earth, or doth some bridegroom await her +who tarrieth long? O god of Light, reveal his name, and save my child +from death." + +Then the tripod shook, and from the midst of the incense and vapour +the priestess made reply, + +"Think not of marriage-songs, O king, or bridal torches. On a lonely +rock on snow-clad Ida must thou leave thy child, the bride of no +mortal man. But a savage monster shall come, the terror of gods and +men, and shall bear her away to his own land, and thine eyes shall see +her no more. Wherefore make ready the funeral feast. Bring forth your +sable robes of mourning, and bid the minstrels raise a dirge for the +dead. For so the gods have willed it." + +So the king went sadly home, and his heart was heavy within him. And +all the people mourned with him; for they loved the fair princess, +with her beautiful sad face and her kind and noble heart. All manner +of tales went abroad of the monster she must wed, some saying one +thing and some another. But most men thought it must be Talus, the +great giant who guarded Crete. Three times every day did he walk round +the island, and woe to any stranger who fell in his path or tried to +land when he was by. For from top to toe he was made of burning +metal--gold and silver and bronze and iron--while through his body ran +one single vein that was filled with fire and fastened in his head +with a nail. If any man tried to thwart him, he would gather him up in +his great bronze arms and hold him to his breast, red-hot with the +fire in his vein, and when he was well cooked through he would devour +him. Many a long year after, when Jason sailed by with the heroes of +the Golden Fleece, Talus rushed down, and would have stopped them from +watering their ship, and have turned them adrift on the salt seas to +be tortured to death with thirst. But Medea, Jason's dark witch-wife, +beguiled him with fair promises, and made him cool his burning body in +the sea before she would come near. Then when she had him under her +spells she softly drew the nail from his head, and the fire flowed +forth from his vein, and all his strength departed, and he died with a +curse on his lips for Medea and her wiles. But she only laughed aloud, +and bade Jason water the ship and thank the immortal gods that he had +a witch-woman to wife. That, however, was long after, and Talus was +now in the prime of life, and the terror of all the country-side. + +Meanwhile, the land was plunged in mourning, and in the palace all was +bustle and confusion in preparation for the funeral rites. All day +long the old king sat in his chamber, and looked out towards the +lonely heights of Ida, where his daughter was to be left. + +"Better that she should die in her maidenhood," he cried, "than wed +this terrible monster." + +Psyche alone in all the palace was calm, and tried to comfort her +father. + +"Sire," she said, as she put her arms about his neck, "to look on thy +tears is to me more bitter than my fate. Weep not for me, for +something within me bids me take comfort, and I hear a sweet voice +say, 'Rejoice, beloved, and come with me.' Dark was that day, my +father, when first men laid their offerings at my feet, and my heart +dwelt apart in its loneliness. And now, if but for one day I may look +upon the face of my bridegroom, I would gladly die. For, methinks, it +is no monster I must wed." + +But the king thought only of the words of the oracle, and would not be +comforted. + +At length the bridal day dawned, and the sad procession wound slowly +from the palace towards Ida. Choruses of singers led the way with +solemn dirges for the dead, and the king, uncrowned, followed with his +nobles clad in armour and holding blazing torches in their hands. Next +came Psyche, all in white, with a bridal veil and garlands, and +surrounded by white-robed maidens; and last of all the people of the +city followed with loud wailing and lamentation. Up the steep mountain +road they went, and the path grew rougher and narrower step by step. +On either side the dark rocks frowned down upon them, and echoed to +and fro the wailings of the people as they passed, and above them the +snow-capped peak of Ida stood out against the summer sky, like a +lonely sentinel keeping watch over the plain below. Slowly the shadows +of the rocks lengthened across the barren slopes, and the funeral +torches shone pale in the glowing sunset light. At last they reached +the appointed place beneath the unmelting snow, and on the barren rock +they set the maiden, and bade her a sorrowful good-bye. Ever and anon +they turned back to look on her as they wound down the mountain-track, +and always she waved to them a fond farewell. At length the shadows +fell on all the mountain-side, and only the snow-clad peak flashed +like a ruby in the last rays of the sun, and as they looked backward +for the last time they saw Psyche transformed in the golden light. Her +white dress shone like a rainbow, and her golden hair fell about her +shoulders like a stream of fire, and as she raised her arm to wave to +them she looked like no mortal maid, but a goddess in all her beauty, +so that the people hushed their voices and bowed their heads before +her. Soon the light faded, and they could see her no more. Sadly they +went their way, and all down the mountain-track and across the plain +below the torches shone out like pale twinkling stars in the darkness. + +Psyche, meanwhile, left alone, pondered sadly on her fate, and +wondered what the night would bring. And as she sat and pondered, a +soft breeze played about her, filling her veil and robe, and gently +she felt herself lifted from the rock and borne through the air, till +she was laid down upon a grassy bank sweet with the scent of thyme and +violets. Here a deep sleep fell upon her, and she knew no more. + + +III + +Day was dawning when Psyche awoke, and high up in the bright air the +larks were singing their morning hymn to the sun, and calling on bird +and beast and flower to awake and rejoice in the glad daylight. At +first she could remember nothing of what had happened, and wondered +where she was; then slowly all the sad ceremony of the day before came +back to her--the funeral procession up Mount Ida, the lonely rock on +which she had been left, and the soft west wind that had borne her +away. So she rose up from the green bank on which she had slept all +night, and looked round about her to see what manner of land she was +in. + +She found herself standing on a hillock in the midst of a fertile +plain. Steep cliffs rose up on every side as though to guard the +peaceful valley, and keep out any evil thing that would enter in. To +the eastward only was there a break in the mountain-chain, and the +dale widened out towards the sea. As Psyche gazed, the golden disc of +the sun rose slowly from the water, and his bright rays lit up the +grey morning sky and scattered the silvery mist that hung about the +tree-tops. On either side of her was a wood, with a green glade +between sloping up towards a marble temple, which flashed like a jewel +in the rays of the rising sun. And Psyche was filled with wonder at +the sight, for it seemed too fair to be the work of human hands. + +"Surely," she thought, "it must be the handiwork of the lame fire-god +Hephæstos, for he buildeth for the immortal gods, who sit on high +Olympus, and none can vie with him in craft and skill." + +Then she looked about her to see if anyone were near. But all around +was quiet and still, with no signs of human habitation. Wondering the +more, she drew near to the temple, and went up the marble stairs that +led to the entrance. When she reached the top her shadow fell upon the +golden gate, and, as she stood doubting what to do, they slowly turned +on their hinges, and opened to her of their own accord, and she walked +through them into the temple. She found herself in a marble court +surrounded by pillars and porticoes which re-echoed the soft music of +a fountain in the midst. Through the open doors of the further +colonnade she caught a glimpse of cool dark rooms, with carvings of +cedar-wood and silver and silken hangings. And now the air was filled +with music and sweet voices calling her by name. + +"Psyche, lady Psyche, all is thine. Enter in." + +So she took courage and entered. All day long she wandered about the +enchanted palace discovering fresh wonders at every step. Even before +she knew it the mysterious voices seemed to guess every wish of her +heart. When she would rest they led her to a soft couch. When she was +hungry they placed a table before her spread with every dainty. They +led her to the bath, and clothed her in the softest silks, and all the +while the air was filled with songs and music. + +All this time she had not said a word, for she feared she might drive +away the kindly voices that ministered to her. But at last she could +keep silence no longer. + +"Am I a goddess," she asked, "or is this to be dead? Do those who pass +the gates of Death feel no change, nor suffer for what they have done, +but have only to wish for a thing to gain their heart's desire?" + +The voices gave her never a word in answer, but led her to the chamber +where her couch was spread with embroidered coverlets. The walls all +round were covered with curious paintings, telling of the deeds of +gods and heroes--how golden Aphrodite loved Ares, the god of War, and +Apollo the nymph Daphne, whom he changed into a laurel-tree that never +fades. There was Ariadne, too, upon her island, whom the young god +Dionysus found and comforted in her sore distress; and Adonis, the +beautiful shepherd, the fairest of mortal men. + +Psyche, tired out by all the wonders she had seen during the day, sank +down upon her couch, and was soon asleep. But sleep had not long +sealed her lids before she was awakened by a stir in the room. The +curtain over her head rustled as though someone were standing beside +her. She lay still, almost fainting with terror, scarcely daring to +breathe, when she heard a voice softly call her by name. + +"Psyche, my own, my beloved, at last I have got thee, my dear one." + +And two strong arms were round her and a kiss upon her lips. Then she +knew that at last the bridegroom she had waited for so long had come +to claim her, and in her happiness she cared not to know who he was, +but was content to feel his arms about her and hear her name upon his +lips. And so she fell asleep again. When she awoke in the morning her +first thought was to look on the face of the husband who had come in +the dark night, but nowhere could she find him. All the day she passed +in company of the mysterious voices who had ministered to her before; +but though their kindness and courtesy was never failing, she wandered +disconsolately about the empty halls, longing for the night-time, and +wondering whether her lover would come again. As soon as it was dark +she went again to her chamber, and there once more he came to her and +swore that she was his for evermore, and that nothing should part +them. But always he left her before it was light and came to her again +when night had fallen, so that she never saw his face nor knew what he +was like. Yet so well did she love and trust him that she never cared +to ask him his secret. So the days and nights sped swiftly by, for in +the daylight Psyche found plenty to amuse her in the enchanted palace +and garden, and she did not think of loneliness when every night she +could hold sweet converse with her beloved. + +But one evening when he came to her he was troubled, and said, + +"Psyche, my dear one, great danger threatens us, and I must needs ask +thee somewhat that shall grieve thy tender heart." + +"Mine own lord," she said, "what can there be that I would not gladly +do for thee?" + +"Well do I know, beloved, that thou wouldst give thy life for me. But +that which I ask will grieve thee sore, for thou must refuse the boon +thy sisters shall ask thee." + +"My sisters! They know not where I am. How, then, can they ask me a +boon?" + +"Even now they stand upon the lonely rock where thou wast left for me, +to see if they can find thee or learn aught of thy fate. And they will +call thee by name through the echoing rocks, but thou must answer them +never a word." + +"What, my lord! wouldst thou have my sisters go home disconsolate, +thinking that I am dead? Nay, surely, thou wouldst not be so hard of +heart? But let me bid the soft west wind, that wafted me hither, bring +them too, that they may look upon my happiness and take back the +tidings to mine aged sire." + +"Psyche, thou knowest not what thou askest. Foolish of heart are thy +sisters, and they love the trappings and outward show of woe, and with +their mourning they wring their father's aching heart till he can bear +it no more. So he hath sent them forth to see whether they can hear +aught of thy fate. And, full of their own hearts' shallow grief, they +seek thee on the mountain-side, thinking to find thy bones bleaching +in the rays of the sun. Were they to see thy happiness, their hearts +would be filled with envy and malice. They would speak evil of me, and +taunt thee on thine unknown lord, and bid thee look upon my face and +see lest I be some foul monster. And Psyche, mine own wife, the night +that thou seest my face shall be the night that shall part us for +evermore, and thy first look shall be thy last. Therefore answer them +not, I pray thee, but stay with me and be my bride." + +And Psyche was troubled at these words, for she thought her husband +wronged her sisters. Nevertheless, unwilling to displease him, she +said, + +"I will do thy will, my lord, even as thou sayest." + +Yet all the day long she thought on her sisters wandering on the bleak +mountain-side, and how they would call for her by name, and at length +go sadly home to her father's house and bring no comfort. The more she +thought on it the sadder she became, and when her husband came to her, +her face was wet with tears. In vain he tried to comfort her. She only +sobbed the more. + +"All my joy is turned to bitterness," she said, "when I think on the +grief that bows down my father's heart. If but for one day I could +bring my sisters here and show them my happiness, they would bear the +news to him, and in my joy he would be happy too. Let them but come +and look at this fair home of mine, and surely it will not harm me or +thee, my dear lord?" + +"I have not the heart to refuse thee, Psyche," he said, "though it +goeth against me to grant this. I fear that evil will come. If they +ask thee of me, answer them not." + +Psyche was overjoyed at his consent, and thanked him, and put her arms +about his neck and said, + +"My dearest lord, all thou sayest I will do. For wert thou Eros, the +god of Love himself, I could not love thee more." + + +IV + +The next day, when Psyche was left alone, she went out into the valley +to see whether she could hear her sisters calling her. And sure +enough, she had not gone far, when high up above her head, from the +top of the cliff, she heard her name, "Psyche, O Psyche! where art +thou?" At this she was overjoyed, + +"O gentle Zephyr!" she called, "O fair west wind! waft, oh, waft my +sisters to me!" + +Scarcely had she said the words than she saw her sisters gently borne +down from the cliff above and set upon the ground beside her. She fell +upon their necks and kissed them. + +"Ah, my dear sisters," she cried, "how happy am I to see you! Welcome +to my new home. See, I am not tortured, as you thought. Nay, my life +is bliss, as you shall see for yourselves. Come, enter in with me." + +And she took them by the hand and led them through the golden gates. +The ministering voices played soft music in the air, and a rich feast +was spread before them. All through the palace Psyche led them, and +showed them all her treasures, and brought out her choicest jewels, +and bade them choose out and keep as many as they wished. + +All this time, though there was no corner of the palace that she kept +hidden from them, she spoke no word of her mysterious husband. At +length they could contain their curiosity no longer, and one made bold +to ask her, + +"Psyche, thou livest not here alone, of a surety. Yet where is thy +lord? All thy treasures hast thou shown us, but him, the giver of +all, we have not seen. Who is he, then? Surely he, whom the winds and +bodiless voices obey, must be a god, and no mortal man. Tell us of +him, we pray thee." + +And Psyche remembered her husband's warning. + +"My lord," she said, "is a huntsman bold, and over hill and dale he +rides this day after the swift-footed stag. As fair as the dawn is he, +and the first down of youth is on his cheek. All through the hours of +sunlight he goeth forth to the chase, and at eventime he returneth to +me." + +It was now close on night, and the shadows fell long across the cool +green lawns of the garden. Psyche bethought her that it was high time +for her sisters to go, before they could ply her with questions. So, +kissing them farewell, and sending many a loving message to the king +her father, she called on Zephyr to waft them away to the top of the +cliff. + +Hitherto the surprise and wonder at all they had seen and heard had +filled the minds of the two sisters. But when they found themselves +once more alone upon the barren mountain-slopes, they had leisure to +think and compare their lot with that of their sister. Before they had +seen her golden halls they had been quite content with their own +palaces. But these now seemed humble beside the splendours they had +just left. Their shallow hearts were quite filled up with the image of +themselves, and they had no room left for their sister. But now her +good fortune forced the remembrance of her upon them, and they were +filled with an envy and jealousy of her which conquered even their +love for themselves. They could not be content to return once more to +their homes, and receive the homage of their husbands and their +households. Their one thought was how they might spoil her happiness. +For the hatred that is born of self-love is an all-consuming passion +that burns up every kind and noble thought, as a forest fire burns up +the tall trees that stand in the path of its fury. + +"How cruel and unjust," cried one, "that she, the youngest, should be +blest so far above us both. My lord is a very beggar to him who giveth +Psyche her golden halls to dwell in." + +"Yea, and mine is an old man by the side of this beardless youth. +Sister, thy grief and mine are one. Side by side let us work, and +verily her cunning shall be great if she can avail against us and keep +her ill-gotten wealth." + +"Thou sayest well. 'Twas from pride that she welcomed us to her halls +to flaunt her riches before us. Sister, I am with thee. Quickly let us +plan some plot to unrobe this upstart maiden of her vaunted godhead." + +Whereupon they agreed together to bring their father no word of +Psyche's happiness. They tore their robes and loosed their hair, as +though all this while they had been wandering over the rough mountain +rocks. + +"Ah, sire," they cried, "how can we tell thee the evil tidings? +Nowhere can we find our sister, or any trace of her. Verily, the +oracle lieth not, and she is the bride of some fell monster." + +Their cruel words smote their father to the heart, and quenched the +feeble spark of hope that still burned in his breast. And when all +hope leaves the heart of man, life leaves him, too. So the old king +died, and his blood was on the hands of his own children, and one day +they paid the penalty with their lives. + +Meanwhile, Psyche lived on in the happy valley in blissful content. +Her husband would often warn her that her sisters were plotting her +ruin, but she would listen to nothing against them. At last one night +he said, + +"Psyche, to-morrow thy sisters will seek thee once again. This time +they will not wait for Zephyr to bear them down, but, trusting +themselves to the barren air, they will hurl themselves from the +cliff, and be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Leave them to their +fate. 'Twill be due penalty for their crime, and 'tis the only way +that we can be saved, beloved." + +"My lord," cried Psyche, "thy cruelty would kill my love for thee, +were it not immortal. But, in very truth, all my joy would be slain +did I know that my sisters were killed when I could have saved them. +Oh, dearest husband, by the love that makes us one, I beseech thee, +send Zephyr once more to bear my sisters hither." + +And she sobbed so pitifully and prayed so earnestly that once again he +had not the heart to refuse. + +So about noontide the next day Psyche heard loud knocking and cries at +the door, and she hastened to open it herself to her sisters. Again +she kissed them, and bade them welcome, and they deceived her with +flattery and honeyed words, and when she was off her guard one said, + +"Come, tell us, Psyche, thy husband's name. Among the immortal gods, +where doth he take his place, and why is he not here to greet us?" + +"My husband," she replied, "is a rich merchant. Many a long year hath +it taken to build up all the fortune you behold, for already the hair +about his temples is touched with snow. And this day hath he gone a +long journey to a distant town in search of rich merchandise, and he +returneth not till the setting of the sun." + +Then quickly she called on Zephyr to bear them away before they could +ply her with questions. + +When her husband came that night he was more troubled than before, and +begged her to see them no more, but let them be dashed to death on the +rocks if they troubled her again. Her pure heart, however, would +believe no evil of them; and in this one thing she disobeyed her lord. + + +V + +Meanwhile, the second visit of the sisters to Psyche in her beautiful +home had but served to add fuel to the fire of their envy. When they +remembered her confusion and the different tales she had told them +about her unknown lord, jealousy whispered in their ears that all her +happiness depended on the keeping of her secret, and that secret they +straightway determined to know. + +"'Tis a strange lord, methinks," said one, "who in the waxing and +waning of a single moon doth change from a beardless boy to a grave +and reverend merchant whose hair is touched with snow." + +"True, sister. And therein lieth the secret of her happiness. Her +lying tale but proves that she hath never seen her lord. And verily, +he who would hide his face from the queen of his heart must be some +child of the Immortals, whose love for an earth-born maid must be hid +from gods and men." + +"Yea, and they who are loved of the Immortals are themselves immortal, +too, and their seed after them. Truly, sister, that Psyche should be a +goddess is more than I can bear." + +"I feel with thee! It is not meet that the youngest should have all. +Let us invent some lying tale which shall make her look upon her lord, +and break the spell which binds him to her." + +"What sayest thou to the words of the oracle that doomed her to wed a +monster? Let us go to her and say that now we know this to be true, +and beg her to flee from a fate so vile." + +So once more they trusted themselves to Zephyr, for Psyche had +prevailed upon her lord to promise that, so long as her sisters should +do her no harm, Zephyr should always be waiting to carry them to and +fro from her. + +Early the next day she was aroused from sleep by the sound of weeping +and lamentation at her door, and she hastened to meet her sisters, +fearing some ill news. And they fell upon her neck, crying, + +"Alas, alas, for thine evil fate!" + +"Mine evil fate, sisters? What mean ye? All is well with me." + +"Ah, so thou thinkest in thine heart's innocence. Even so falleth the +dove a victim to the hawk that wheeleth above." + +"What talk is this of doves and hawks? Come, my sisters, weep no more, +for in this pleasant vale even the winds of heaven breathe gently on +me, so good and great is my lord who commandeth them." + +"Thy lord! Hast ever seen his face, child, that thou callest him good +and great?" + +"Nay," she answered, blushing to think that they had guessed her +secret, "'tis true I have not seen his face, but what need to look +upon him when all around me breathes of his love for me?" + +"Hast never heard tell of foul monsters that wed with the daughters of +men, and come to them only in the night season, when the darkness can +hide their deformity? They cast a spell about their victims, and by +their wiles and enchantments they make all things about them seem +fair. But one day, when they have had their fill, and tire of the maid +they have won, lo! at a word the pleasant palaces and gardens vanish +into air, and she is left all ashamed and deserted, and scorned by +gods and men. Ah, sister, be warned by those who wish thee well, and +flee from thy vile lot ere all is lost. Even yesterday, when we left +thee, we saw a monstrous shape that glided after us through the wood, +and we fled in terror, knowing it was thy lord, who would not have us +near thee. Come with us now, and be saved." + +When Psyche heard their words she was very troubled. Truly, 'twas +strange that her lord should be loath for her to see her sisters, +unless, indeed, it was even as they said, and she was the prey of some +terrible beast. Yet his kind and loving words and his tender thought +for her welfare and all the beauty that surrounded her gave the lie to +such a thought. + +"My dear sisters," she cried, "I thank you for your loving fears for +me, but it cannot be as you say. Though I have never looked upon my +lord, these fair halls and gardens do but mirror forth the beauty of +his soul, and I know that he is true." + +"Then why doth he hide his face? At least, if thou wilt not flee with +us now, do but put him to the test when he comes this night. A glimpse +at his form will tell thee that our tale is true; and if by some +strange chance it be not so, what harm can one glance do?" + +Thus they tempted her, and made her doubt her lord, though sore +against her will. So it often happens that the pure of heart are +tortured by the doubts which the wicked plant in their breasts. As +little does a young bird in the greenwood suspect the hunter's snare +as did Psyche in her loving innocence suspect the malicious envy of +her sisters. + +But they were filled with joy at the success of their plot, and when +Zephyr had borne them to the top of the cliff they could contain their +gladness no longer, but fell upon each other's necks and kissed and +danced for glee. + +But Psyche at their bidding made ready to look upon her lord that +night. Under a chair she placed a lighted lamp in readiness, and +shrouded it about, that the light might not shine into the room and +betray her purpose. Trembling she went to bed that night, for she +hated the deed she must do. At the usual hour her lord came and spoke +lovingly to her, and kissed her, but her words died away upon her +lips, and she shuddered at his embrace. In time he fell asleep, and +his breathing was gentle and even as that of a child sweetly dreaming +in its innocence of heart. Then she rose up silently in the dead of +night, and walking softly to the chair, she took the lamp from +beneath and turned on tiptoe to the bed. High above her head she held +the light, that the rays might fall more gently on him as he slept, +and with bated breath she drew near and looked on him. As she looked, +the blood rushed headlong through her veins, and her heart beat fast +within her, and her limbs seemed turned to water as she bent forward +to look more closely. For on the bed, wrapped in deep slumber, lay no +terrible monster, as she feared, but the youngest and fairest of the +Immortals--Eros, the great god of Love. The gleam of his golden locks +was as sunshine on the summer sea, and his limbs like the eddying +foam. From his shoulders sprang two mighty wings bright as the +rainbow, and by his side lay his quiver and darts. As he moved +restlessly in the light of the lamp she heard her name upon his lips. +With a low cry she fell on her knees beside him, and as she did so her +arm grazed the point of an arrow placed heedlessly in the sheath. The +poison ran like liquid fire through her veins, and set her heart +aflame, and with blazing cheeks she bent over and kissed him on the +lips. As she did so the lamp trembled in her hand, and a drop of the +burning oil fell upon his shoulder, and he started up and found her +bending over him. + +"Ah, wretched, wretched Psyche!" he cried; "what hast thou done? +Couldst thou not trust me, who gave thee all the happiness thou hast +ever known?" + +"My lord, my lord, forgive me! I would but prove to my sisters by mine +own eyes' witness that thou wert not the monster that they dreaded." + +"Thrice foolish maid! Knowest thou not that doubt driveth away love? +Did I not tell thee that thy first look would be thy last? From a +terrible fate I saved thee when Aphrodite bade me strike thee with my +shaft and make thee love some terrible beast. When I went forth to do +her bidding thy grace and beauty conquered me, and I took thee away to +be my bride; and in time, hadst thou proved worthy, my mother and all +the great gods that rule above would have forgiven me, and shed on +thee the gift of immortality, to live with me for ever in the courts +of heaven. But now all is lost, and I must leave thee." + +[Illustration: "On the bed, wrapped in slumber, lay the youngest and +fairest of the Immortals."] + +"Ah, my lord, great is my sin, but I love thee, and my soul is thine. +Over the whole wide world would I wander, or be slave to the meanest +of men, so be it I could find thee again. Ah, dearest lord! tell me +not that all hope is gone." + +One moment he was silent, as though doubting her. Then he answered, + +"One way there lieth before thee, if thy courage prove greater than +thy faith--one only way, by which thou canst reach me--the long rough +path of trial and sorrow. Heaven and earth shall turn against thee; +for men win not immortality for a sigh. Yet will I help thee all I +may. In thine own strength alone thou wouldst faint and die by the +way, but for every step thou takest I will give thee strength for two. +And now farewell! I can tell thee no more, neither linger beside thee. +Fare thee well, fare thee well." + +As he vanished from her eyes Psyche fell senseless on the floor, and +for many a long hour she lay there, hearing and seeing nothing, as +though life itself had fled. + + +VI + +Meanwhile the two sisters were waiting in a frenzy of impatience to +know whether success had crowned their evil plot. If the doubt they +had planted in Psyche's breast had borne fruit, and she had dared to +disobey her lord, they knew full well that all her happiness would +have vanished like a dream. Yet, fearing the anger of him whom the +winds of heaven obeyed, they dared not trust themselves to Zephyr, who +had carried them down before. So they wandered restlessly from room to +room, and peered from the windows, hoping that Psyche in her misery +would come to them and beg for succour in her evil plight. There was +nothing they would have loved better than to spurn her from their +doors and taunt her on the retribution which had fallen on her vanity. +But all day long they waited, and yet she came not, so that at length +they parted and went each one to her couch. + +But the night was hot and sultry, and the eldest sister lay on her bed +and tossed restlessly from side to side, and could not sleep. At +length she went to the casement and drew aside the curtain and looked +out on the starry night, and when she had cooled her burning brow she +went back to her couch. Just as she was about to fall asleep she felt +a shadow pass between her and the light from the window, and she +opened her eyes, and her heart beat fast; for straight in the path of +the moonbeams stood Eros, the great god of Love, and his wings stood +out black against the starlit sky as he leant on his golden bow. +Though his face was dark in the shadow, his eyes seemed to pierce +through to her heart as she lay still and trembling with fear. But he +spoke softly to her with false, honeyed words. + +"Lady, thy sister Psyche, whom I chose out from the daughters of men, +hath proved false and untrue, and lo! now I turn my love to thee. Come +thou in her stead and be mistress in my palace halls, and I will give +thee immortality. Lo! even now Zephyr awaits thee on the mountain-top +to bear thee away to my home." + +So saying, he faded from her sight. Her wicked heart was filled with +joy when she heard of Psyche's fall, and she rose up in the dead of +night and put on her gayest robe and brightest gems. Without so much +as a look on the prince her husband she went out to the mountain-top. +There she stood alone, and called softly to Zephyr, + +"O Zephyr, O Zephyr, O fair west wind, waft me, oh waft me away to my +love!" + +Without waiting she threw herself boldly down. But the air gave way +beneath her, and with a terrible cry she fell faster and faster, down, +down, to the gulf below, and was dashed to pieces on the rocks; and +from the four quarters of heaven the vultures gathered and fed upon +her flesh. + +As for the second sister, to her, too, the god appeared and spoke +false honeyed words, and she too went forth alone; and in the morning +her bones lay gleaming white beside her sister's on the rocks below. + + +VII + +When Psyche awoke from her swoon, she looked around her in +bewilderment, for the scene which met her eyes was the same, and yet +so different. The forest-trees waved their arms gently in the breeze, +and whispered to each other in the glad morning light, and in the +hedges the birds sang sweet songs of joy; for the skies were blue, and +the grass was green, and summer was over the land. But Psyche sat up +with a dull grief in her heart, feeling over her the dim shadow of a +half-forgotten woe that meets those who awake from sleep. At first she +wondered where she was, for her clothes were wet with dew, and looking +round the still familiar scene, she saw the green glade in the forest, +but no shining palace at the top. Then like a flash she remembered the +night, and how by her doubt she had forfeited all her happiness, and +she lay on the ground and sobbed and prayed that she might die. But +soon tired out with weeping, she grew calmer, and remembered the words +of her lord--how she could find him again only after long wandering +and trial. Though her knees gave way beneath her, and her heart sank +at the thought of setting out alone into the cruel world, she +determined to begin her search forthwith. Through the dark forest she +went, and the sun hid his face behind the pine-tops, and great oaks +threw shadows across her path, in weird fantastic forms, like wild +arms thrust out to seize her as she passed. With hurrying steps and +beating heart she went on her way till she came out on the bleak +mountain-side, where the stones cut her tender feet and the brambles +tore her without mercy. But on and on she struggled along the stony +road, till the path grew soft beneath her, and sloped gently downwards +to the plain. Here through green fields and smiling pastures a river +wound slowly towards the sea, and beyond the further bank she saw the +smoke from the homesteads rise blue against the evening sky. She +quickened her steps, for already the shadows from the trees fell long +across the fields, and the grass turned to gold in the light of the +dying day. And still between her and shelter for the night lay many a +broad meadow and the silver stream to cross. As she drew nearer she +looked this way and that for a ford, but seeing none, she gathered +together her courage, and breathing a prayer to the gods, stepped into +the water. But she was weak and faint with fasting, and at every step +the water grew deeper and colder, and her strength more feeble, till +at length she was borne off her feet, and swept away by the hurrying +tide. In her agony she cried out, + +"O god of Love, have mercy and save me ere I die, that I may come to +thee!" + +Just as she was about to sink, she felt a strong arm seize her and +draw her up on the opposite shore. For a while she lay faint and +gasping for breath; but as her strength returned, she heard close +beside her soft notes of music, and she opened her eyes to see whence +the sweet sounds came. She found herself lying beneath a willow-tree, +against which leant a strange musician. For his head and shoulders and +arms were those of a man, but his legs and feet were thin and hoofed, +and he had horns and a tail like a goat. His ears were pointed, his +nose was wide and flat, and his hair fell unkempt and wild about his +face. Round his body he wore a leopard's skin, and he made sweet music +on a pipe of reeds. At first she was terrified at the sight of this +strange creature, but when he saw her look up at him, he stopped +playing, and smiled at her; and when he smiled he puckered his face in +a thousand wrinkles, and his eyes twinkled merrily through his wild +elf-locks, so that none could look on him and be sad. In spite of all +her woes Psyche fairly laughed aloud as he began to caper round her on +his spindle legs, playing a wild dance-tune the while. Faster and +faster he went, and up and down, and round and round, till, with a +last shrill note on his pipe and a mad caper in the air, he flung +himself on the grass beside her. + +"Have I warmed the blood back to thy heart, fair maid?" he asked, "or +shall I dance again the mad dance that drives away cold and despair?" + +"Nay, merry monster, even now my sides ache with laughter. But tell +me, who art thou, that savest damsels in distress, and drivest away +their sorrow with thy wild piping and dance?" + +"I am the god of the forest and woodland and broad wide pasture lands. +To me the shepherd prays to give increase to his flocks, and the +huntsman for a good day's sport. In the evening, when the moon shines +high o'erhead, and the sky is bright with stars, I take my pipe and +play my lays in the dim dark forest glades. To the sound of my music +the brook murmurs sweetly, the leaves whisper softly o'erhead, the +nymphs and naiads forget their shyness, and the hamadryad slips out +from her tree. Then the eyes of the simple are opened, and on the +cool, green grass by the side of the silver stream the goatherd, +the neatherd and the young shepherd-lad dance hand-in-hand with the +nymphs, and the poet, looking forth from his window, cries, 'How sweet +are the pipes of Pan!' + +[Illustration: Faster and faster he went, and up and down, and round +and round.] + +"But when the dark storm-cloud rides over the sky, and the streams +rush swollen with rain, with fleet foot I hurry through woodland and +dell, and over the bleak mountain-tops; the crash of my hoofs on the +rocks sounds like thunder in the ears of men, and the shriek of my +pipe like the squall of the wild storm-wind. And I rush through the +midst of the battle when the trumpets are calling to arms; but above +the blare of the bugle men hear the shrill cry of my pipes. Then the +archer throws down his bow, and the arm of the spearman falls limp, +and their hearts grow faint with panic at the sound of the pipes of +Pan. Nay, turn not from me in terror, lady," he added, as Psyche made +as though she would flee, "for I wish thee no ill. 'Tis gods mightier +than I who have made me goat-footed, with the horns and the tail of a +beast. But my heart is kindly withal, or I would not have saved thee +from the stream." + +Once more he smiled his genial smile, and puckered his face like the +ripples on a lake when a breeze passes over, + +"Come, tell me who art thou, and how can I help thee?" + +Then Psyche told her tale, and when she had finished Pan was silent +for a time, as though lost in thought. At length he looked up, and +said, + +"Thou seekest the great god Eros? I would that I could help thee, +lady; but love once fled is hard to find again. Easier is it to win +the dead to life than to bring back love that doubt hath put to +flight. I cannot help thee, for I know not how thou canst find him, +or where thou must seek. But, if thou wilt journey further, and cross +many a long mile of pasture and woodland, thou wilt come to the rich +corn-lands and the shrine of Demeter, the great Earth Mother. She +knows the secret of the growing corn, and how the rich fruits ripen in +their season, and she will have pity on a maid like thee, because of +her child Persephone, whom Hades snatched away from her flowery +meadows and dragged below to be Queen of the Dead. Three months she +lives with him, the bride of Death, in the dark world of shades, and +all the earth mourns for her. The trees shed their leaves like tears +on her grave, and through their bare branches the wind sings a dirge. +But in the spring-time she returns to her mother, and the earth at her +coming puts on her gayest robe, and the birds sing their brightest to +welcome her back. At her kiss the almond-tree blushes into bloom, and +the brook babbles merrily over the stones, and the primrose and violet +and dancing daffodil spring up wherever her feet have touched. Go, +then, to Demeter's shrine; for if thy love is to be sought on earth, +she will tell thee where to go; but if to find him thou must cross the +dark river of death, her child Persephone will receive thee." + +He then pointed out to her the path to the village, where she could +get shelter for the night, and Psyche, thanking him, went on her way, +gladdened at heart by the genial smile of the wild woodland god. + +That night she slept in a shepherd's cottage, and in the morning the +children went out with her to point out the road she must go. The +shepherd's wife, standing at the door, waved to her with her eyes full +of tears. She had maidens of her own, and she pitied the delicate +wanderer, for Psyche's beautiful face had shed a light in the rude +shepherd's hut which the inmates would never forget. + + +VIII + +So Psyche went on her journey, often weak and fainting for food, and +rough men laughed at her torn clothes and bleeding feet. But she did +not heed their jeers and insults, and often those who had laughed the +loudest when she was a little way off, were the first to hush their +rude companions when they saw her near. For her face was fairer than +the dawn and purer than the evening star, so that the wicked man +turned away from his sin when he saw it, and the heart of the watcher +was comforted as he sat by the sick man's bed. + +At length, as Pan had told her, she came to the rich corn-lands where +Demeter has her shrine. Already the valleys were standing thick with +corn, for it was close on harvest-time, and on the hill-sides the +purple grapes hung in heavy clusters beneath the tall elm-branches. As +she drew near the temple, a band of harvesters came out. They had just +placed the first-fruits of the corn in the shrine, and now they were +trooping to the fields, a merry throng of young men and maidens. +Psyche stood back shyly as they passed, but they heeded her not, or at +most cast a curious glance at her ragged clothes and bruised feet. +When they had passed her, and she had heard their merry laughter and +chatter die away down the lane, she ventured to enter the temple. +Within all was dark and peaceful. Before the altar lay sheaves of +corn and rich purple clusters of grapes, whilst the floor was strewn +with the seeds and bruised fruits which the harvesters had let fall +when they carried in their offerings. Hidden in a dark corner Psyche +found the temple-sweeper's broom, and, taking it, she swept up the +floor of the temple. Then, turning to the altar steps, she stretched +forth her hands and prayed, + +"O Demeter, great Earth Mother, giver of the golden harvest--O thou +who swellest the green corn in the ear, and fillest the purple vine +with gladdening juice, have mercy on one who has sinned. For the sake +of thy child, Persephone, the Maiden, have pity on me, and tell me +where in the wide world I can find Eros, my lord, or whether to the +dark land I must go to search for him." + +So she prayed, and waited for an answer; but all was still and dark in +the temple, and at length she turned sorrowfully away, and leant her +head against a pillar and wept. And, because she had walked many a +long mile that day, and had not eaten since dawn, she sank down +exhausted on the ground, and gradually her sobs grew fewer and +fainter, and she fell asleep. + +As she slept she dreamt the temple was dark no more, but into every +corner shone a soft clear light, and looking round to see whence it +came, she saw, on the altar steps, the form of a woman, but taller and +grander than any woman of earth. Her robe of brown gold fell in +stately folds to her feet, and on her head was a wreath of scarlet +poppies. Her hair lay in thick plaits on her bosom, like ripe corn in +the harvest, and she leant on a large two-handed scythe. With great +mild eyes she looked at Psyche as one who has known grief and the +loss of loved ones, and can read the sorrows of men's hearts. + +"Psyche," she said, "I have heard thy prayer, and I know thy grief, +for I, too, have wandered over the earth to find the child of my love. +And thou must likewise wander and bear to the full the burden of thy +sin; for so the gods have willed it. This much can I tell thee, and no +more. Thou must go yet further from the land of thy birth, and cross +many a rough mountain and foaming torrent, and never let thy heart +grow faint till thou come to a temple of Hera, the wife of Zeus the +All-seeing. And if she find thee worthy, she will tell thee how thou +must seek thy love." + +So saying, she faded from her sight, and Psyche awoke and found the +temple cold and dark. But in her heart she cherished the image of the +great Earth Mother, with her large eyes full of pity, and set out +comforted on her journey. + +Too long would it be to tell of all her wanderings and all the +hardships of the road, but many a moon had waxed and waned before she +stood on the brow of a hill looking down on Hera's shining temple. +Down the hill she went, and up the marble steps, and men stood aside +as she passed, for her face was fairer than before, and she no longer +shrank back like a hunted thing, but walked with the swinging gait of +those whose feet the kind earth has hardened, and the breezes of +heaven have fanned the fire in their eyes. In her heart she knew that +she had conquered and borne the terrors of the path with no coward's +fears, and she prayed that Hera might find her worthy of doing great +deeds to win back her lord. Then she stood before the altar, and made +her prayer, + +"O Hera, golden-throned, who sittest on the right hand of Zeus--O thou +who, when the marriage-torch is lit, doth lead the bride and +bridegroom to their home, and pourest blessings on their wedded love, +have mercy on me, and show me where I may find my lord. Far have I +wandered, and drunk deep of sorrow's cup, but my heart is strong for +any task that shall win back my love to me." + +Thus she prayed, and bowed her head before the great white statue of +the goddess. Even as she spoke, the statue seemed to change and rise +from the ivory throne in the shape of a woman tall and exceeding fair. +Her robes were like the clouds at sunset, and her veil like the +mountain mist; on her head she wore a crown of gold, and the lightning +played about her feet as she gazed at Psyche with eyes that pierced +through to her soul. + +"Psyche," she said, "I have heard thy prayer, and I know that thou art +true. For I am the wife of Zeus, who seeth all things, and he hideth +naught from me. Well I know that thou hast wandered far, and suffered +at the hands of men. But greater trials await thee yet, before thou +canst find thy lord. Thou must be slave to foam-born Aphrodite, the +pitiless goddess of Love. And she will try thee sorely, and put thee +to many a hard test ere she will forgive thee and think thee worthy of +her son Eros, or of the godhead men gave thee long ago. But if thou +overcomest her wrath, thou hast overcome death itself, and naught can +part thee from thy lord again. Go, then, to where she holds her court +in a pleasant valley by the sea, and forget not that the gods bless +tenfold those who waste not the power that is given them, how feeble +soe'er it be." + +So saying, she faded slowly away till Psyche found herself standing +once more before the pale white statue. Then she turned and went +through the silent temple, and out into the sunlight, and asked for +the road which would lead her to the sea and Aphrodite's pleasant +vale. + + +IX + +For many a long day she journeyed, till at length she saw the blue sea +far away and a pleasant valley sloping to the shore. Here the waves +broke in laughing ripples on the beach, and the leaves danced gaily on +the trees in the soft west wind; for Aphrodite, born of the foam, the +fairest of all the goddesses, held her court there, surrounded by her +nymphs and maidens. As she sat on her golden throne they danced around +her with their white arms gleaming, and crowned her with roses, +singing the while the song of her beauty. + +"O foam-born Aphrodite, Queen of Love, fairest of Time's deathless +daughters. Thee the golden-snooded Hours kiss as they pass and the +circling Seasons crown with grace. Before thee all was fire and chaos, +but at thy coming like sped to like. The earth decked herself with +flowers, and the nightingale sang to her mate on the bough, and in the +pale moonbeams youth and maiden sped hand in hand through the glade. +Thy smile is like sunshine on ripples, but the flash of thine eyes +like the death-bearing gleam of the lightning; for not always art thou +kind. The heart of the scorner thou breakest, and art jealous for thy +rites. Wherefore north and south and east and west men worship thee, +both now and evermore, O goddess of ten thousand names!" + +As Psyche drew near the nymphs espied her. With loud cries they rushed +forward, and flinging chains of roses about her, dragged her forward +before the throne. + +"A prisoner, a prisoner!" they cried--"a mortal, O queen, who has +dared to enter thy sacred vale! What fate shall be hers?" + +And Psyche knelt trembling before the throne. She dared not look up, +for she felt the eyes of the goddess upon her, and the blaze of her +anger burned through to her heart. + +"Psyche, what doest thou here? Knowest thou not that long ago I loved +thee not, because thy beauty taught men to forget my dues, and mine +own son didst thou lead to disobey my word? By thy folly hast thou +lost him; and glad am I that he is rid of thy toils. Think not that +thy tears will move me. Those who enter my sacred vale become the +lowest of my slaves, and woe to them if they fail to do the task I set +them. Verily, thine shall be no light one, or I am not the Queen of +Love and Beauty." + +"O lady," answered Psyche, "'twas to be thy slave and to do thy will +that I came to thy sacred vale, if haply I might turn thy wrath to +love and prove myself not all unworthy of thy son. Great was my sin, O +goddess, when I doubted him; but many are the tears I have shed, and +weary the way I have wandered in search of him--yea, even to the dark +underworld would I go, if so be it I could find him there. As for the +worship that men paid me, Zeus, who searcheth all hearts, knoweth +that I lifted not mine in pride above thee. Nay, doth not every gift +of beauty come from thee, O mighty one? If my face hath any fairness, +'tis that it shadoweth forth thine image. Weak are the hearts of men, +lady, and hard is it for them to look on the sun in his might. Be not +angry, then, if through the mortal image that perisheth, they stretch +forth blind hands towards the beauty that fadeth not away. And now on +my knees I beg thee, O queen, to set me thy hardest tasks, that I may +prove my love or die for mine unworthiness." + +As Psyche was speaking the face of the goddess softened, and she +answered her more gently. + +"Thy words please me, maiden, for the gods love those who shrink not +back from trial. Three tasks will I set thee, and if in these thou +fail not, one harder than all the others will I give thee, whereby +thou shalt win thy love and immortality. Go, maidens, and lead her to +my garner, that she may sort the golden grain ere the sun's first rays +gild the pine-tops." + + +X + +At the command of the goddess the nymphs gathered round Psyche, and, +binding her hands with chains of roses, led her away to the garner. +Here they set her free, and with peals of merry laughter bade her +farewell. + +"Pray to the hundred-handed one, maiden, to help thee," cried one; +"thy two hands will not go far." + +"Nay, an hundred hundred hands could not sort the grain by sunrise," +said another. + +"Better to work with two hands," said Psyche, "than idly to pray for +ten thousand." + +But for all her brave answer her heart sank as she looked at the task +before her; for she stood in the largest garner it had ever been her +lot to see--wide and lofty as her father's palace-halls, and all the +floor was strewn with seeds and grain of every kind--wheat, oats and +barley, millet, beans and maize, which she must sort each after its +kind into a separate heap before the sun should rise. However, she set +diligently to work, and minute after minute, hour after hour passed +swiftly by, and the heaps kept growing by her side; yet for all her +toil 'twas but a tiny corner of the garner she had cleared. Feverishly +she worked on, not daring to look at what remained to do. Her back +ached, her arms grew stiff, and her eyes felt heavy as lead, but she +worked as one in a dream, and her head kept falling on her breast for +weariness, till at length she could hold out no longer, but fell fast +asleep upon the cold stone floor. + +While she slept a marvellous thing happened. From every hole and crack +there appeared an army of ants--black ants, white ants, red +ants--swarming and tumbling over each other in their haste. Over the +whole floor of the garner they spread, and each one carried a grain of +seed, which it placed upon its own heap and ran quickly back for +another. Such myriads were there, and so quickly did they work, that +by the time the first ray of the sun peeped in at the windows the +floor was clear, save for the heaps of sorted grain standing piled up +in the midst. The bright light pouring in at the window fell upon +Psyche as she slept, and with a start she awoke and began feverishly +to feel about for the grain. When her eyes became accustomed to the +light, how great was her joy and thankfulness to see the neat heaps +before her! And as she looked round, wondering who could have been so +kind a friend, she saw the last stragglers of the ants hurrying away +to every crack and cranny. + +"O kind little people," she cried, "how can I thank you?" + +She had no time to say more, for the door was thrown open, and in a +golden flood of sunlight the nymphs came dancing in. Seeing the floor +cleared and the bright heaps lying on the floor, they stopped short in +amazement. + +"Verily thou hast wrought to some purpose, maiden," said one. + +"Nay, she could never have done it of herself," said another. + +"True, O bright-haired ones!" answered Psyche. "I toiled and toiled, +and my labour did but mock me, and at length my strength gave way and +I fell asleep upon the floor. But the little folk had pity on me, and +came out in myriads and sorted out the grain till all was finished. +And lo! the task is accomplished." + +"We will see what our queen shall say to this," they answered. + +And binding her once more in their rosy chains, they led her to +Aphrodite. + +"Hast thou swept my garner, Psyche, and sorted the grain each after +its kind?" she asked. + +"Thy garner is swept and thy grain is sorted, lady," she replied, "and +therein I wrought the little my feeble strength could bear. When I +failed the little folk came forth and did the task." + +Trembling, she waited for the answer, for she feared that in the very +first trial she had failed. But Aphrodite answered, + +"Why dost thou tremble, Psyche? The task is accomplished, and that is +all I ask; for well do I know the little folk help only those who help +themselves. Two more tasks must thou do before I put thee to the final +proof. Seest thou yon shining river? On the other bank graze my flocks +and herds. Precious are they beyond all telling, for their skins are +of pure gold. Go, now, and fetch me one golden lock by sunset." + +So saying, she signed to the nymphs to release Psyche, who went at +once towards the stream, light-hearted; for this task, she thought, +would be no hard one after the last. + +As she approached the river she saw the cattle feeding on the further +bank--sheep and oxen, cows and goats--their golden skins gleaming in +the sunlight. Looking about for some means of crossing, she espied a +small boat moored among the reeds. Entering it, she unloosed the rope +and pushed out into the stream. As she did so, one of the bulls on the +further shore looked up from his grazing and saw her. With a snort of +rage he galloped down the field, followed by the rest of the herd. +Right down to the water's edge they came, lashing their tails and +goading with their horns, and an ill landing would it have been for +Psyche had she reached the shore. Hastily she pushed back among the +reeds, and pondered what she must do; but the more she thought the +darker grew her lot. To get one single hair from the golden herd she +must cross the stream, and, if she crossed, the wild bulls would goad +her to death. At length in despair she determined to meet her doom, if +only to show that her love was stronger than death. As she bent over +the boat to loose the rope, a light breeze set the reeds a-whispering, +and one seemed to speak to her. + +[Illustration: She unloosed the rope and pushed out into the stream.] + +"Fair lady, leave us not, for those who reach the further shore return +not to us again." + +"Farewell, then, for ever, gentle reed, for I have a task to do, +though I die in the vain attempt." + +"Ah, lady, stay here and play with us. Too young and fair art thou to +die." + +"No coward is young or fair, kind reed. And before sunset I must win a +lock from a golden fleece yonder, or I shall never find my love +again." + +And she let loose the rope. + +"Stay, stay, gentle maiden. There I can help thee, for all my life +have I watched the golden herds, and I know their ways. All day long +they feed in the pleasant pasture, and woe to those who would cross +over when the sun is high in heaven. But towards evening, when he is +sinking in the far west, the herdsman of Aphrodite cometh and driveth +them home to their stalls for the night. Then mayest thou cross with +safety and win a lock from the golden herd." + +But Psyche laughed aloud at his words. + +"Thou biddest me steal the apples when the tree is bare. Thy heart is +kind, O reed, but thy tongue lacketh wisdom. Fare thee well." + +"Not so fast, lady. Seest thou not the tall ram yonder by the +thorn-bush? Sweet grows the grass beneath its shade, yet to reach it +he must leave a golden tribute on the thorns. Even now there is a lock +of his fleece caught in the branches. Stay with us till the herds are +gone, lady, and then canst thou win the lock of gold." + +"O kindest of reeds, forgive my blindness. 'Tis more than my life thou +hast saved, for, with the task undone, I should lose my love for +ever." + +So all day long she stayed and talked with the reeds; and they told +her that often folk came down to the stream and pushed out for the +other bank. But when the cattle rushed raging to the water's edge they +turned back afraid, and dared not venture forth again, but went home +disconsolate. And so they heard not the whispering of the reeds nor +learnt the secret of winning the golden lock. + +Now the shadows were falling fast, and away in the distance Psyche +heard the horn of the herdsman and his voice calling the cattle home. +At the sound they lifted their heads, and made for the gate on the far +side of the field. As soon as they were safely through, Psyche pushed +out the boat and rowed to the other bank. Swiftly she made for the +thorn-bush and picked the golden lock from the bough, and as the boat +glided back to the reeds, the sun sank low behind the hills. Close at +hand she heard the laughter of the nymphs as they came to see whether +the task were done. With a smile she drew the lock of gold from her +bosom, and, marvelling, they led her back to Aphrodite. + +"Thou hast a brave heart, Psyche," said the goddess, as she looked at +the golden lock at her feet. + +"The bravest heart could not have won this lock, lady, without knowing +the secret which the reeds whispered to me." + +"Well do I know that, Psyche. But 'tis only the pure in heart that can +understand the voice of the wind in the reeds; and thus doubly have I +tried thee. Take now this crystal bowl for thy third task. Beyond this +pleasant vale thou wilt come to a dark and barren plain. On the far +side a mighty mountain rears his peak to heaven, and from the summit a +spring gushes forth and falls headlong over the precipice down into +the gulf below. Go now and get me a draught of that stream, but see +that thou break not the goblet on the way, for its worth is beyond all +telling." + +In truth, as she held it out, the crystal gleamed brighter than the +rainbow. Psyche took the goblet, and the first rays of the sun found +her already on the plain. Far away on the other side the mountain-peak +rose barren and black against the sky, and she hurried on as fast as +her feet would go, lest night should fall ere she had filled the +goblet. On and on she went, and at length she drew near to the +mountain and looked about for a path leading up to the summit. But +naught could she see save rocks and boulders and masses of crumbling +stones, and there was nothing for it but to set to work to climb the +rough mountain-side. Clasping the goblet tightly in one hand, she +clung to the rocks as best she might with the other, fearing at every +step that she would slip and break her precious burden. How she ever +reached the top she never knew, but at length she stood, bruised and +torn, upon the summit. What was her dismay when she saw that the +mountain-peak was divided by a mighty cleft, and across the abyss she +saw the stream of water gushing out from the steep rock a hundred feet +and more below the summit! Even had she toiled down again and up on +the other side the rock fell away so smooth and sheer that a +mountain-goat would have no ledge on which to rest his foot. + +Psyche sat down upon a rock to think what she must do, and the more +she thought the more she felt that her last hour had come. + +"For the only way I can reach the water is to throw myself into the +bottomless abyss, where the stream flows deep down into the bowels of +the earth; and I should be dashed to pieces, but perchance the King of +the Underworld would have mercy on me, and let my soul return but once +on earth to bear the crystal bowl to Aphrodite." + +So saying, she stood and bade farewell to the earth and the pleasant +sunlight and the fair flowers that she loved, and prepared to throw +herself over the mountain-side. As she was about to spring from the +edge, she heard the whirring of wings above her head, and a mighty +eagle flew down and settled on the rock beside her. + +"Far up above thy head, in the blue sky, have I watched thee, Psyche, +and seen thy labours on the mountain-side. Too brave and true art thou +to go to thy death. Give me the goblet, and I will fill it. Knowest +thou that yonder stream is a jet which springeth up from dark Cocytus, +the River of Wailing, which watereth the shores of the dead? No mortal +can touch of that water and live, or bear it away in a vessel of +earth. But this goblet is the gift of Zeus almighty, and I am his +messenger--the only bird of heaven that can look on the sun in his +might. Give me the cup, then, and I will fill it, and bear it to the +mountain-foot, that thou mayest carry it back in safety." + +With tears of joy and thankfulness Psyche gave him the goblet, and as +he flew away across the dark chasm, swift as an arrow from the bow, +she turned and sped down the mountain-side, heeding not the stones and +boulders, so glad was she at heart. At the foot she found the eagle +awaiting her. + +"O mightiest of birds, how can I thank thee?" she cried. + +"To have served thee, lady, is all the thanks I need. Farewell, and +may the gods prosper thee in thy last great trial." + +And he spread his mighty wings and flew away. Psyche watched him till +he grew but a tiny speck in the blue of the sky. Then she turned and +hastened across the plain with her precious goblet of water. + +The nymphs danced put to meet her as before, and led her to Aphrodite. + +"I see thou art fearless and true, maiden," she said, when Psyche had +told her tale. "Twice hast thou faced death without flinching, and now +must thou go down to his own land; for no woman is worthy of my son's +love, if she possess not beauty immortal that fadeth not with passing +years. And she alone, the Queen of the Dead, can give thee this gift. +Take this casket, then, and go and kneel before her and beg her to +give thee therein the essence of that beauty. When thou hast it, see +thou hasten swiftly back and open not the casket; for if its fumes +escape and overcome thee in the world below, thou must dwell for ever +with the shades." + +So Psyche took the casket, and her heart sank within her at the +thought of that dread journey. And the nymphs waved sadly to her as +she went away, for never yet had they looked on one who had returned +from the dark land of shadows. + + +XI + +Away from the pleasant vale went Psyche, for she knew full well that +nowhere in that fair place could she find a way down to the world +below. As a child, when she had lived in her father's halls, her nurse +had told her strange tales of dark and fearsome caves which men called +the mouth of Hades, and how those who went down them never returned; +or if one perchance, more favoured than the rest, came back into the +sunlight, his face was pale and his strength departed, and he talked +wildly of strange things that none could understand. + +Far over the country-side she wandered and asked for the gate of +Hades, and some pitied her weakness, and some laughed at her +foolishness, and all men thought her mad. + +"For beggar and king, for wise and foolish, the road to Hades is one," +they said, "and all must travel it soon or late. If thou seekest it, +in very sooth, go throw thyself from off yon lofty tower, and thou +wilt find it fast enough." + +Sadly she went and stood on the tower, for she saw no other way. Once +again she bid farewell to the earth and the sunlight, and was about to +leap from a pinnacle, when she thought she heard a voice calling her +by name, and she hushed her breath and listened. + +"Psyche, Psyche," she heard, "why wilt thou pollute my stones with +blood? I have done thee no wrong, yet thou wouldst make men hate me +and shun the rock on which I stand. As for thee, it would avail thee +nought, for thy soul would dwell for ever in the Kingdom of the Dead, +and the shadow of thyself, faint and formless, would glide about my +walls, and with thin-voiced wailing weep for thy lost love; men, +hearing it, would flee from me, and for lack of the builder's care, my +stones would fall asunder, and of all my proud beauty naught would be +left, save a mound of moss-grown stones and thy spirit's mournful +guardianship." + +Then Psyche knelt and kissed the stones. + +"Poor tower," she said, "I would not harm thee. Thou canst tell me, +perchance, some better way, for I must bear this casket to the Queen +of the Dead, and beg for a gift of beauty immortal, that I may return +to the earth worthy of my lord." + +"Hadst thou thrown thyself over the edge, thou wouldst never have come +to the Queen of the Dead, but wailing and forlorn wouldst have +wandered on the shores of the Land that has no name; for betwixt that +land and Hades flows the wide Stygian stream. One boat there is that +can cross it, and therein sits Charon, the ferryman of souls. Greedy +of gain is he and hard of heart, and none will he take across who bear +not a coin of gold in their mouths. And the pale ghosts of those who +have died away from their loved ones, when none were by to pay the +last rites of the dead and place the gold coin in their mouths--all +these flock wailing around him and beg him with heart-rending cries to +take them over the stream. But to all their entreaties he turneth a +deaf ear and beateth them back with his oar. E'en hadst thou prevailed +on him and come to the palace of pale Persephone, thou couldst not +have entered in; for at the gates sits Cerberus, the three-headed +hound of Hell, and none may pass him without a cake of barley-bread. +But his soul loveth the taste of earth-grown corn, and while he +devours it the giver may pass by unscathed." + +"The coin of gold and the barley-cake I can get," she said, "but how I +can reach the Underworld alive I know not." + +"Not far from hence thou wilt find the cave men call the Gate of +Hades. In ignorance they name it, for no man hath proved where it +leads. All the long years I have stood upon this rock have I watched +the entrance to that cave, and men have come up and looked inside, and +the boldest have entered in; but always have they come swiftly back, +staggering like drunken men, with pale faces and wild eyes full of +fear, and about them hangs the smell of the noisome vapours that rise +up from the gates of the dead; and the old wives sitting by the +fireside nod their grey heads together. 'Tis the tale that our mothers +told us long ago and their mothers before them,' they mutter. 'Tis +surely the Gate of Hades, and those who venture too far will never +come back again.' They have guessed aright, maiden, and down that dark +cavern lies thy path." + +"But if those who venture too far never return, how shall I bear back +the essence of undying beauty in the casket?" + +"Instead of one gold piece, take two, and two loaves of fresh-baked +barley-bread. One gold coin to the ferryman and one loaf to the hound +must thou give as thou goest, and keep the rest for thy return, and +from greed they will let thee pass back again. Tie the casket in thy +bosom, and put the gold coins in thy mouth, and take the barley-loaves +one in each hand. See that thou set them not down, or the pale ghosts +will snatch them away; for the taste of the earth-grown meal giveth a +semblance of warmth to their cold forms, and for a brief space they +feel once more the glow of life. So by many a wile will they seek to +make thee set down the bread; but do thou answer them never a word, +for he who toucheth or answereth one of these becometh even as they +are." + +Psyche thanked him for his counsel, and went forth to beg the two gold +coins and barley-loaves, and for love of her fair face the people gave +it gladly. When all was ready, she set out towards the cave. About its +mouth the brambles grew tall and thick, and the ivy hung down in long +festoons, for none had ventured in for many a long year. As best she +might, she cut a way through the prickly hedge, and stood in the +shadow of the cave, and the drip of the water from the roof sent a +faint echo through the vaults. Through the dark pools she went, +through mud and through mire, and the green slime hung like a dank +pall about the walls. On and on she hastened, till her head swam round +and her heart turned sick within her; for round her floated a mist of +poisonous vapour, which choked her and made her gasp for breath, and +monstrous shapes swept past--the Furies and Harpies and hundred-headed +beasts which guard the gate to Hades. Their cries and shrieks filled +the air, and every moment she shrank back, terrified that they would +tear her limb from limb, as they bore down on her with the whirr of +their mighty wings and their wild locks flying in the wind. Across the +path they stood and waved her back, and her heart turned cold with +fear; but she pressed onward with hurrying steps, and lo! when she +came up to them the shapes clove asunder like mist before the sun, and +she passed through them, and found they were but smoke. + +And so she came to the nameless land that lies betwixt earth and +Hades; a barren, boundless plain it is, with never a tree or shrub to +break the dulness of its sad mud flats. Up and down it wander the +shades of those whose bodies the kind earth has never covered, and +they wring their hands and wail to their dear ones above, to grant +them burial and the rites of the dead. For Charon, the grim ferryman, +beats them back from his boat, because they have no coin, and they are +doomed to dwell for ever in the land that has no name. + +As she was crossing the dismal plain, an old man came towards her +beating a laden ass. Old and weak was he, and could scarce stagger +along by the side of the beast, and as he came up to Psyche the cords +broke that bound the burden on the ass's back, and the faggots he +carried were scattered all about. And he set up a dismal wailing, and +wrung his pale withered hands. + +"Gracious damsel, have mercy on an old man, and help me load my ass +once more." + +But Psyche remembered the words of the tower, and she clung the +tighter to the loaves of bread, though she longed to help the feeble +shade. + +[Illustration: "Help, help! I drown in this foul stream!"] + +Onward she went till she came to the banks of the Styx, the mighty +river of Hell, by which the great gods swear. Nine times it winds its +snaky coils about the shores of Hades, and across its leaden waters +Charon, the boatman of the dead, ferries backward and forward for +ever. When he saw Psyche, he hailed her, and asked her for the coin. +Answering him never a word, she held out one coin with her lips, and +as he took it she shuddered. For his breath was as the north wind +blowing across the snow, and his eyes were like a fish's, cold and +dull. + +"Welcome, sweet maiden. 'Tis not often we get a fare like thee, my +boat and I;" and he laughed a hard, thin laugh, like the cracking of +ice in a thaw, and beneath her weight the boat creaked in chorus. + +Out into the stream he pushed with his pole, and then set to with his +oar, and the rise and fall of the blade made never a sound in those +dull leaden waters. As they neared the middle of the stream, Psyche +saw two pale arms rise up above the waves, and the head of an old man, +who cried out to her piteously, + +"Help, help! I drown in this foul stream! Ah, for pity's sake put out +one finger to save me!" + +And Psyche turned aside to hide her tears; for the face was the face +of her father, and his cries pierced through to her heart. As the boat +passed by he sank with a moan beneath the waves, and she saw him no +more. + +At length they reached the shore of Hades, and she saw three paths +before her leading upwards from the landing-stage. As she stood, not +knowing which to take, the old man beckoned to her. + +"I know not whither thou art bound, lady, for thou bearest not on +thee the mark of the dead. The souls of the wicked I know, for about +them fly the Furies, the avengers of sin, and hound them down the +left-hand path, through Periphlegethon, the river of fire--down, down +to the utmost depths of Tartarus. And the souls of the brave shine +forth like stars in the darkness, and they take the right-hand path to +the Elysian fields of light, where the breeze blows bright and fresh +and the golden flowers are glowing. The middle path leadeth to the +palace of pale Persephone, but that way only the gods and the children +of the gods may go, or those who bear with them some token from the +Immortals." + +Then Psyche showed him Aphrodite's casket, and turned up the middle +path. Through a dark wood she went, and came out upon a plain. Here +she saw three aged women weaving at a loom, and they cried out to her +in weak, quavering voices, + +"Oh, maiden, thine eyes are young and thy fingers supple. Come help us +unravel the thread." + +But for the third time she turned aside, and went quickly on her way, +and when she looked back over her shoulder the loom and the hags had +vanished away. + +So at length she came to the palace of Persephone. The roof and +columns were all of pure silver, which shone with a pale light through +the murk and gloom, like the shimmer of pale moonbeams on a cloudy +night. Above the heads of the pillars ran a frieze of strange device. +It told of Night and Chaos, and of the birth of Time, and how the sons +of Earth rose up against the gods in deadly battle, and were hurled +into the depths of Tartarus by the thunderbolts of Zeus. And it +showed how Prometheus the Titan gave fire to mortal men, so that they +learnt all manner of crafts, and became the masters of all living +things, and like the gods for wisdom. But they ruled by the law of the +strongest, and said that might was right, and begat the foul forms of +Pestilence and War and red-handed Murder. The other side told of the +things that would come to pass when Time and Death should be no more, +and Love should rule the universe. On that side all the forms were +fair and all the faces beautiful, and the breeze played through +pleasant places where the flowers never fade. In the centre of the +pediment, with mighty wings overshadowing either side, stood a mighty +figure, Anangke, great Necessity, the mother of gods and men. From the +one side she looked dark and terrible, and the world trembled at her +frown, but from the other she was fairer than the day, and by +unchanging law she drew all things after her till they should be +perfected. + +On the palace steps before the doorway sat Cerberus, the three-headed +watch-dog. When he saw Psyche approaching he began to growl, and his +growl was like the rattle of thunder far away. As she drew nearer he +barked furiously and snarled at her, baring his white gleaming fangs. +Quickly she threw him one of the barley loaves, and while he was +devouring it, she slipped gently past, and stood within the courtyard +of the palace. All was silent and deserted, and her footsteps, as they +fell on the marble pavement, sent no echo through the colonnades; for +it seemed that even sound must die in that lifeless air. She passed +through great doors of bronze into a lofty hall. In the shadowy +depths of it she saw a great throne raised, and on it sat the Queen of +the Dead. About her stood two handmaids, and their names were Memory +and Sleep. One fanned her with great poppy-leaves, and as she did so +the eyes of the queen grew heavy and dim, and she sat as one in a +trance. But when this one grew weary of fanning, anon the other would +hold up before her a great mirror of polished steel, and when she +looked into it the colour would rush into her pale cheeks, and her +eyes would glow like coals of fire, for in the flash of the steel she +saw earth's flowery meadows, and remembered that for three months only +did she live in the gloom and the shade; and she knew, moreover, that +one day the circling seasons would stay their course, and decay and +death would pass away, and when that time came she would return no +more to the murk and gloom, but dwell for ever in the sunshine and the +flowers. A magic mirror is that which Memory holds, and few are there +who can bear to look on its brightness, but those whose eyes are +strong gaze into its depths, and learn that knowledge and remembrance +are one. + +With timid steps did Psyche cross the hall, and knelt upon the steps +of the throne. + +"Child of Earth, what dost thou here?" asked the queen. "This is no +place for living souls." + +"O mighty one, 'tis a boon I beg of thee," said Psyche, and drew from +her bosom Aphrodite's casket. "Give me, I pray thee, the gift of +undying beauty in this casket, that I may return above worthy of my +lord." + +"'Tis a great boon thou askest. Nevertheless, for thy bravery's sake I +will give it thee. For many are they who set out to find it, but few +have the heart to come so far." + +Thereupon she took the casket in her hands, and breathed into it, and +her breath was as the smoke of incense on the altar. + +"Take it and return swiftly whence thou earnest, and see thou open it +not till thou comest upon earth. For in the land of the dead my breath +is death, but above it is life and beauty immortal. Fare thee well." + +With a glad heart Psyche rose from her knees, and sped through the +silent palace. She threw the second loaf to Cerberus as she passed, +and for the second coin of gold Charon took her once more across in +his boat. This time no sad phantoms cried to her for help, and she +knew that it was for the sake of the earth-grown meal that they had +stood in her path before. + +At last she stood once more in the sunlight, and joy lent wings to her +feet as she sped across the plain and away to Aphrodite's pleasant +vale. With the casket in her hand, she knelt before the throne, but +Aphrodite put out her hand and raised her up. + +"Kneel no more to me, Psyche, for now thou art one of us. But open the +casket and drink into thy very soul the life and beauty that will +never die." + +Her smile was brighter than sunshine on the shimmering waves, and the +touch of her hand made Psyche's blood run like fire through her veins. +Scarce knowing what she did, she opened the casket. The fumes rose up +in a cloud about her head, and she knew no more till she felt herself +moving upwards, upwards. As life came slowly back she opened her eyes, +and looked into the face of him she had seen but once. His rainbow +wings were spread above her, and his strong arms held her close, and +he looked into her eyes with the look that mingles two souls into one. + +"Beloved," he whispered, "Love has conquered all things. In thy +darkest hour of trial I watched over thee, and gave thee strength, and +now we two will dwell for ever in the courts of heaven, and teach the +hearts of men to love as we love." + +[Illustration] + + + + +Hero and Leander + + +One sunny day in April long ago, a maiden sat in a lonely tower +looking out across the Hellespont. At her feet the blue ripples lapped +lazily on the beach and played a soothing lullaby upon the stones, and +the white-sailed ships floated slowly down the stream from Sestos, +carrying their rich freights of corn and merchandise. To the north she +could see the port of Sestos, with the great walls running down from +the city to the harbour, and the masts of the ships as they lay at +anchor by the quay. Across the water, facing the tower, stood Abydos, +with its palaces and houses nestling white at the foot of the low +green hills. So narrow is the sea that runs between Sestos and Abydos, +and so swiftly does the current flow, that the ancients used to think +it was a great river running down from Propontis and the stormy +Euxine, and emptying their overflowing waters into the wide Ægean +main. So they called it the broad Hellespont, for the rivers of Greece +were but narrow streams beside it. + +As she looked across the sunlit waters the maiden sighed, and turned +wearily to an old dame who sat spinning in a corner of the room. + +"Good mother," she said, "how many years didst thou say we two have +lived in this wave-washed tower?" + +"'Tis close on twenty years, my dear, since I brought thee here, a +tiny babe in my arms." + +"Twenty years!" sighed the maiden. "Twenty centuries had passed by +more swiftly in the bright busy world out yonder. How long is a +woman's life, good nurse?" + +"With the blessing of Heaven she may live for four score years, my +child." + +"Four score years--four times as long as I have lived already! I can +well dispense with the blessing of Heaven." + +"Nay; hush, hush!" cried the old woman, and stopped her spinning +hastily. "What ails thee, Hero? Thou wast never wont to speak such +dreadful words." + +The girl threw herself on her knees beside her, and laid her head upon +her lap and sobbed. The old nurse drew her fingers tenderly over her +long black hair, and waited for the storm of passion to be spent. + +"I am tired--tired of this lonely life," sobbed the maiden. "Why am I +shut up here, all alone?" + +"Thou knowest the reason full well, my child. If thou goest forth into +the world, a great sorrow will come upon thee, and drive thee to death +in the flower of thy youth. Such was the oracle of the gods concerning +thee. Thy mother--poor young thing!--scarce lived to hold thee to her +breast, and when she died she put thee in my arms. 'Take her away, +nurse, far from the haunts of men, and never let her out into the +cruel world. Go, live with her in some lonely tower by the sea, and +make her a priestess to pitiless, foam-born Aphrodite. Night and day, +as soon as she can lisp a baby prayer, let her burn incense before the +altar of the goddess, and perchance she will have mercy on her, and +save her from her fate. Full well I know that 'tis with her it rests +to strike down my child or to save her, even as it was she, the +goddess of Love, who laid her cruel hand on me, so that now I lie +a-dying. Ah! save my child from the fate that has been mine.' I did as +she bade me, and surely we have not been unhappy, thou and I, +together, all these years?" + +And she stroked the girl's cheek tenderly, and sighed as she thought +how, for many months past, it had grown paler week by week. + +"Ah, think me not ungrateful!" cried Hero. "Thou knowest that I love +thee, and would never leave thee. But my heart is restless, and I long +to set foot beyond this tower and see a great town and streets and the +faces of my fellow-men." + +Then she rose from her knees, and led the old nurse to the window. + +"There!" she cried, pointing towards Sestos; "dost thou see where the +white highway runs down into the city--how a crowd of pilgrims throng +towards the gate? See, too, the steep pathway that winds upwards from +the harbour--how the folk move ever one way, up, up, to the temple of +Aphrodite on the hill! How often have I watched them year by year as +they gather together for the great feast of Adonis! Yet I, who all my +life long have been Aphrodite's priestess--I have never been inside +her temple or joined with those who throng from far and wide to pay +her worship at this glad season. Verily, the goddess hath good cause +to be angered with me if I neglect her dues. Good nurse, let me go +to-morrow and join in the procession of the maidens, and let me lay my +tribute of flowers before her altar, that she may bless me and save me +from my evil fate." + +But the old nurse was very troubled at her words. + +"My child, thou hast thine own shrine within the house where thou +canst burn incense and offer up flowers to Aphrodite. She will answer +thy prayers as well from here as from the crowded temple in the town." + +"Then why do men build her great pillared temples, and throng from far +and near to keep her feast, if the fireside shrine and the simple +prayer would please her as well? Nay, she loveth rich gifts and music +and singing and the heads of many bowing as one man before her image. +Ah, nurse, let me go--let me go." + +"My child, why wouldst thou go when thou knowest that the world can +only bring thee sorrow? Stay here with me in peace." + +"Nay, there is no peace here for me. Aphrodite is angry, and she will +slay me by a slow and cruel death if I do not keep her feast this +year. Should I, her priestess, stay away, when even the meanest of the +folk gather together in her honour? All these years I have not gone, +and now she will stay her hand no more. As for the world and its +cruelty, fear not for that. Thou thyself shalt go with me, and stay by +my side till I join the procession of priestesses and maidens. Then I +will go up with them to the temple, and in their midst I shall be as +far from the world as in this tower. I long to stand within the great +white temple and hear the chanting of the priests. I long to see the +gleaming image of the goddess, and the statue of the risen Adonis, and +the altars sweet with incense and flowers. Ah, nurse, let me go, and +all the rest of the year, till the glad season comes round once more, +I will stay with thee in this tower and pine no more." + +So piteously did she beg that the old nurse had not the heart to +refuse, though she feared what might come of it. But she tried to +comfort herself with the thought that perchance, after all, the maiden +was right, and that Aphrodite was killing her by a slow and cruel +death, because she had never kept her solemn feast-day. + +The next day broke bright and fair, and Hero, as she looked out from +the window, was filled with joy. In the grey dawn she had risen, and +sat looking anxiously across the narrow sea towards Abydos and the low +line of hills on the further shore. + +"O Helios," she prayed, "bright and beautiful, shine down upon the +earth this day, and fill the hearts of all with gladness; for it is +Aphrodite's solemn feast, and the greatest day of all my life." + +And her prayer was not unanswered. Slowly the grey dawn turned to +saffron, and the golden disc of the sun rose over the silent hills and +scattered the rosy clouds north and south before him. With a cry of +joy Hero turned away from the window and ran to rouse the old dame in +the other room. + +"Nurse, nurse!" she cried, "the sun is shining, and the world has +awaked from sleep. It is time to pick the roses and the lilies fresh +with dew and weave them into garlands for the goddess. Come up, up, +and out with me to the garden." + +Without waiting for an answer, she tripped down the turret-stair and +out into the garden, and the old nurse sighed and followed slowly +behind. In the golden morning they gathered the roses and lilies, and +wove them into garlands and posies, and heaped up the loose flowers in +baskets. When all was ready they set out for the town. Though it was +yet early, the streets were thronged with pilgrims and folk hurrying +this way and that to the houses of their friends and kinsmen. Yet, +despite the bustle and confusion, there were few who had not leisure +to turn and watch the maiden and the old woman hastening along. + +"It is Hebe come down from the courts of heaven," they said--"she who +giveth to the deathless gods eternal youth and joy. None can look on +her face and be sad." + +And, indeed, all the sunshine of the morning seemed reflected in +Hero's face, so glad at heart was she. It was small wonder that men +turned and looked at her; for she walked as one of the Immortals, full +of dignity and grace. No evil thing had ever touched her or left its +mark upon her soul. But in a fair garden she had grown to womanhood, +where the breeze made music in the plane-trees and the waves beat time +upon the shore, and on the hill behind, the tall dark cypress-trees +kept silent watch above her. No angry word had ever reached her ears, +but as long as she had lived the love of one faithful heart had +shielded her. And now, though she knew it not, the call of life had +come to her, as it comes to every living thing, and with eager, open +arms she was answering it. In the midst of that bustling city crowd, +she was like a fair flower that brings into some restless sick-room +the scent of sunlit meadows and the murmur of dancing streams. As she +went she laughed and talked merrily to the old nurse beside her, and +ever and anon a flower would fall to the ground from the laden basket +she was carrying; and one of the crowd would quickly pick it up and +place it in his bosom, and carry away in his heart something of the +music of her laughter and the sunshine of her eyes. The old nurse when +she saw it was filled with fear, and hastened faster along; but Hero +saw none of these things, nor knew that she was different from other +folk. + +At length they reached the temple on the hill and went into the +chamber where Aphrodite's priestesses and maidens were to meet; and +they clad her in long white robes, and put a garland on her head. When +all were ready, they went and stood before the priest of the temple, +and he told them in what order they should walk. First came little +children, who scattered rose-leaves in the path, and behind them +followed maidens, playing upon pipes, and singing the hymn to Adonis +and Aphrodite. Next came the priest himself, and on either side of him +two maidens walked, and held above his head great fans of peacock's +plumes. After him followed the long procession of priestesses and +maidens, incense-bearers, and the keepers of the sacred doves. Last of +all came Hero, bearing in her hands a garland of roses and lilies to +lay at the feet of the great white statue of the goddess. Each year +the fairest of the maidens was chosen for this task, and in all that +throng of youth and beauty there was none more fair than she. With her +eyes upon the gleaming statue that shone from the dark recess above +the heads of the worshipping people, she walked as one in a dream. +About her the smoke of the incense rose, and to her ears the voices of +the singers sounded low and far away as they sang, + +"All hail to thee, Aphrodite, foam-born Queen of Love! Adonis, all +hail to thee! Thou art risen--thou art risen on this joyful day. No +more doth Death detain thee in his dark domain, nor Persephone +enshroud thee in the mists of the sad Underworld. But thou art come +back to the daylight and the flowers; and Aphrodite has dried her +tears. For once more by thy side, O fairest of mortal men, she wanders +through green glades and echoing caverns and by the shore of the +silver sea. The joy of her love has kindled the light of summer suns, +and like the west wind in the roses, her breath stirs gently in the +hearts of men, and the eyes of every living thing reflect the +brightness of her smile. All hail to thee. Aphrodite! Adonis and +Aphrodite, all hail!" + +As they sang, the choir of maidens parted this way and that, and Hero +walked up between them bearing the garland in her hands. When she had +laid it at the feet of the statue, the procession formed once more, +and, with music and singing, they marched round the colonnade to the +shrine of Adonis, and all the people followed after. Still Hero walked +as one in a dream, and when the procession halted, she turned into a +small recess and leant against a pillar to rest; for her part was +done, and the people pressed so close about her in the aisle that she +was glad to stand aside till the procession moved again. With her eyes +closed, she drank in the sweet scent of the incense and flowers, and +listened to the chanting of the choir, as they sang of the love of +Adonis and Aphrodite. How Adonis, the beautiful shepherd, the fairest +of mortal men, was loved by the Queen of Beauty, and all the long +summer days they shepherded his flocks together on the shady slopes of +Ida. But there came a time when the people of the country held a great +hunt, and chased the wild boar through grove and dale till he was +brought to bay in the greenwood; and foremost of those who rushed in +to the death was Adonis. But the boar in his agony turned round upon +him and pierced him in the thigh with his tusk, and wounded unto +death, his followers bore him away and laid him in the shade of an +oak. With a wild cry of sorrow Aphrodite came and knelt beside him, +and tried to call him back to life, but his head fell limp upon her +breast. The red drops of his blood were mingled with her tears, and +both turned to flowers as they fell upon the ground--his blood to the +crimson rose, and her tears to the pale, drooping windflower. All +through the woods and the echoing hills a cry of mourning was heard, +"Adonis, Adonis! O weep for Adonis! Adonis is dead." But though his +spirit had crossed the gloomy river and fled to the dark halls of +Hades, yet Death was not strong enough to hold him. The voice of his +love and of Aphrodite's pleaded together, and heaven and earth, and +the world of the dead, were moved by their prayer. Even the heart of +Pluto, the black-browed god of Death, was touched, and he said that +for only four months in the year must Adonis dwell beneath the earth, +but for the other eight he might live his old life with Aphrodite in +the sunlight. So he chose the season of the flowery spring-time to +come back to his love each year, and only the cold dark months of +winter did he spend in the land below. So did a great love prevail and +conquer even the black lord of Death. + +As Hero listened to the well-known tale, her heart was moved, and she +felt that if ever she loved, her love would be as the love of Adonis +and Aphrodite--stronger than death; and she sighed as she remembered +how she must live lonely all her days in the tower by the sea. + +As though in answer to her sigh, she felt a light touch upon her arm, +and, raising her head, she found herself face to face with a young +man. She was about to turn away in anger and return to her place in +the procession, but the look of his eyes held her spellbound, so full +of fire and yet so sad were they. For a moment she stood gazing at +him, and the fire of his eyes seemed to light another in her heart and +set her whole frame aglow. The hot blood rushed to her face, and she +lowered her eyes in confusion, and her limbs trembled beneath her, so +that she leant back against the pillar for support. + +"I ask your pardon, gentle lady," said the man; "forgive my rudeness. +Though thou knowest me not, I have known thee for many a long year, +and day and night have I prayed the gods that I might meet thee face +to face. This day Aphrodite has heard my prayer. If I have seemed +presumptuous, forgive me. 'Twas the goddess nerved my arm to touch +thee." + +And he stood with bowed head before her, awaiting her reply. + +[Illustration: She lowered her eyes in confusion, and her limbs +trembled beneath her so that she leant back against the pillar for +support.] + +"Who art thou, stranger?" asked Hero. "Thou mistakest me, surely, for +some other maid. Never till this day have I set foot beyond my tower, +and to that lonely spot cometh no man, nor have I ever spoken with +such as thee before." + +"My name is Leander," said the stranger, "and I dwell in white Abydos +across the water. Full well do I know thy lonely tower; for as I ply +to and fro between Sestos and Abydos on my father's business, I pass +close beneath its walls, and day by day have I seen thee sitting at +thy window looking out across the sea. Ah, lady, be not angry with me! +The first day I saw thee thy beauty set my heart aflame, and since +then I have lived for thee alone." + +"Thy words stir me strangely, sir," answered Hero. "I know not what to +say to thee." + +"Thou art not angry, then?" he cried. "Thou wilt let me speak my love? +Ah, maiden, all these years have I loved thee with a true heart's +devotion! If my love could find but ever so faint an answer in thy +heart, I would be content." + +And he raised his eyes full of hope and joy to her face. But she +turned aside her head to hide the answering fire of her eyes. + +"Alas, sir!" she said, "mine is a heart that must never beat for any +living man. I am doomed to dwell in yonder tower lonely all my days, +for if I go forth and mix with the world, I shall die by the curse of +Heaven before my time." + +"I have heard thy tale, lady; for even the most secret things are +noised abroad by rumour. Far be it from me to bring the curse upon +thy head. If thou couldst give me thy love, there would be no need for +thee to come forth into the world. I have thought of that. Each day we +would live our lives as we have done till now. But at night, when none +would miss me, I would come to thee. No living soul should know my +secret--no, nor yet the lifeless boards of my boat; for even dumb wood +can tell a tale if need be. Nay, these two arms shall bear me. Look +not fearful, lady. Full often have they borne me to and fro across +this narrow sea from mere love of sport. With thee as the prize they +would bear me twice as far." + +As he spoke he held them out towards her, and, indeed, they were +goodly arms to look upon, and his face and form did them no shame +either. + +Then Hero raised her eyes and looked him full in the face. + +"Leander," she said, "I know not what charm or magic thou hast used, +but I am as clay in thy hands. 'Tis not thy words have conquered me; +in thy reasoning I could find many a flaw. Though one short hour ago I +had never seen thee, yet now I feel that I have known thee always, and +that life apart from thee were worse than death." + +"Ah, Hero!" he cried, and took her hand in his; "the gods have heard +my prayer. Though thine eyes had never seen me, the voice of my heart +reached thee long ago, and thy soul came out to mine. 'Twas in answer +to my call that thou didst come to-day to the feast; for I prayed to +Aphrodite to move thy heart, or I knew not how I should ever speak to +thee. This very night, beloved, I will come to thee, and the light +which thou burnest in thy chamber shall be my guiding star." + +"Ah, how carefully will I trim that torch to-night!" she said, "that +it may burn brightly for thee. Every evening I put it there as a +beacon-light for the ships that pass in the night; but to-night it +shall burn for thee--for thee alone." + +Now the service was ended before the shrine, and the train of people +began to move once more. With one last look and a pressing of hands +they parted, and Hero returned to her place in the procession. + +When all was ended, the old nurse hastened to the robing-room. In the +crowd inside the temple she had lost sight of Hero, and her heart was +full of fears for the maiden. As she helped her to lay aside her +festal robes and garland, she gazed anxiously at her. + +"Art thou content to come home with me, my child," she asked, "or has +the glamour of the world ensnared thee?" + +"Ah, nurse!" she cried joyously, "never, never have I loved my tower +so well. Let us hasten home, and in the quiet of the evening I will +tell thee that of which my heart is full." + +The old dame was glad when she found her so ready to go home, and they +hastened silently through the crowded streets. As the sun was setting +behind the hills, and the shadows fell cool and long across the garden +slopes, Hero sat at her nurse's feet, and told her of the story of +Leander's love, and how that night would make them man and wife. When +she had ended her tale, the old dame took her face between her hands +and looked her in the eyes. + +"Hero," she said, "this thing can never be. I have failed in my +trust. I have listened to thy pleading, and let thee out into the +world, and now through this man the curse of the gods will be +fulfilled. Think no more of him. Let this day be to thee as though it +had never been, and thou mayst yet escape thy doom." + +But Hero sprang to her feet. + +"What!" she cried; "thou wouldst take away the only joy of my life +now, when I have just found it? Never! Curse or no curse, Leander +shall be my wedded husband. Ah, nurse!" she added, falling on her +knees once more, "methinks that over all the joys of life the gods +hang a curse, and that it lies not with us poor mortals to choose +between them. We must take both and live, or neither and be dead all +our days on earth. Thou canst not hold me now; I have chosen my lot." + +Nothing that the old dame could say availed to change her purpose, but +with her heart full of joy she put on her brightest robes and sat by +the lighted torch in her chamber, looking out across the sea, and +waiting for the night. True to his word, Leander came as soon as +darkness fell, and the old dame let him in by the turret door. +Carefully she shaded her lamp with her hand so that the light fell +full upon his face, that she might see what manner of man he was. He +had dried himself as best he might with leaves and grass from the +garden, but his hair hung in damp clusters about his head, and his +tunic clung wet about him. Yet, in spite of all, he was full fair to +look upon--a very god for strength and beauty. The old dame was +pleased when she saw him, for he had braved danger and discomfort to +win his bride, and he was a proper man withal, and worthy of so fair a +maid as Hero. So she led him upstairs and gave him change of raiment, +and when he was ready she took him to Hero's chamber. There before the +shrine of Aphrodite they plighted their troth, with but one faithful +soul to witness their vows, and the music of the wind and the waves +for their marriage hymn. To the two lovers the night fled by on wings +of lightning, and all too soon they had to say farewell; for ere day +dawned Leander must have reached the further shore. But parting was +sweet sorrow for those who so soon would meet again. + +So for many a day their lives ran smoothly on. Each night Hero lighted +her torch; each night Leander was guided by its light, and, true to +his word, swam across the narrow sea that divided him from his wife. +The colour came back to Hero's cheeks and the brightness to her eyes, +and she pined no more to leave the tower and go out into the world. +When the old dame saw how happy she was, she was glad that things had +fallen out so, and prayed that for many a long year the gods would be +pleased to bless their wedded love. + +Meantime Leander thought that no one knew of the nightly voyage save +Hero and the old dame her nurse, yet, for all his secrecy, there was +one who each night watched for him with a longing as great as Hero's +own. In the depths of the blue Ægean the daughters of Nereus +dwell--the fair nymphs of the ocean. All the day long they play +beneath the waters, and dance hand in hand along the yellow sands and +the shell-strewn hollows of the sea. But at night, when the eyes of +men are darkened, they come up above the water and, cradled in the +bosom of the waves, swing gently to and fro in the soft summer air; +and the white gleam of their arms is the glint of ripples in the +moonlight. But when the wild storm-wind shrieks over the sea and the +skies are dark and lowering, they forget their fears, and are filled +with madness. Then they chase each other across the black waters with +wild locks flying in the wind, and woe to those who are out upon the +high seas when the Nereids dance in the storm, for their dance is the +dance of Death. The fire of the lightning runs hot in their veins as +they fly on the wings of the whirlwind, and wherever they go the waves +hiss white and angry behind them. On the crests of the billows they +rise and fall, and with the voice of the storm-wind they shriek aloud, +and call upon all things to join in their dance; and they leap on the +decks of the travailing ships, and man, woman, and child they clasp in +their cruel white arms, crying, "Come, dance with us over the sea." +With a force that none can withstand they bear them away, and whirl +them round in the dance of Death, till they hang limp and lifeless in +their arms. Then they toss them aside, nothing caring, to be washed +ashore in the wan morning light, or to sink to a nameless grave in the +depths of the ocean. Wherever they have passed wreck and ruin lie +behind; but they rush on, till the storm dies away, and they sink down +exhausted to their home in the sea. Sometimes in the calm green waters +below they find the bodies of those they have drowned in their frenzy, +but they know them not; for all that they did when the spirit of the +storm was upon them they forget, and it passes from their minds as a +dream dies at break of day. So when they see the bodies lying still +and lifeless, they call to them to come and play with them in the +water, and when they get no answer, they creep closer, and find that +their eyes are closed. Then they know that, however long they call, +they will never get an answer, for they have learnt that those whose +eyes are closed have neither life nor voice, but are as the rocks and +stones. But the Nereids know not sleep nor death, and when they look +upon one lying dead they think he has always been so; and they do not +grieve nor weep for him, for the gods did not make them for grief, but +to be the bringers of beauty wherever they go, and to turn all foul +things fair. So they gather the shells and the bright seaweeds, and +cover the body where it lies, and it sleeps in beauty and peace in the +hollows of the sea. + +One of these same Nereids it was who saw Leander as he swam across the +Hellespont each night, and she loved him for his beauty, and longed to +have him as her playfellow. So she swam near to him on the crest of +the dancing waves, and called to him softly, + +"O child of the green earth, come, come with me, and play with me and +my sisters in the depths of the blue Ægean." + +But he saw her not, nor listened to her pleading, for his eyes were +darkened. To him the gleam of her arms was the moonshine on the water, +and the sound of her voice like the west wind on the waves. + +So she followed him in vain across the channel, and when he went up +into the tower she sat below upon a rock, and watched for him to +appear at the window; and she saw Hero sitting by the torch waiting +for her lover, and heard her cry of joy as she ran to greet him when +he came. Then again she called to them softly, + +"O children of the green earth, come and play with me. I will crown +your heads with white sea-pearls, and you shall sit on coral thrones +beneath the waves, and be king and queen over all the nymphs of the +sea." + +But as they stood hand in hand at the window, they saw her not, and +heard only the murmur of the ripples on the beach. So she sat calling +in vain all the night long. Before the grey morning dawned Leander +came down, and when he reached the shore he turned and called, + +"Farewell, Hero!" + +And Hero, leaning from her window, answered, + +"Leander, farewell!" + +So the sea-nymph learnt to know their names, and every night she would +sit sadly calling them, and they heard her not. + +But one night all the winds of heaven were loosed, and they rushed +with a wild shriek over the face of the waters, and lashed them to a +fury of white-maned waves. With a deafening crash the thunder echoed +through the hills, and the pale forked lightning lit the sky from east +to west. With white cheeks and a heart full of fear, Hero knelt before +the shrine in her chamber, and prayed the gods to have mercy on the +sailors out at sea, and, above all, to grant that Leander had not set +out ere the storm began. + +Meanwhile Leander on the other side had seen the storm approaching, +and he knew full well that when the seas ran high no man could swim +the channel and reach the other shore alive. So he sat by his window +and longed for the storm to be spent and the day to dawn; for the +night without Hero was to him but misery. Across the stream he could +see the torch burning fitfully in the gale. + +"The gods grant she think me not faithless," he said, "for not going +to her this night." + +As he sat and watched, the storm grew wilder and more terrible. In the +swirling, seething waters the Nereid danced with the madness of the +tempest in her heart, up and down over the crested waves, with the +storm wind whistling through her hair. In the gleam of the +lightning-flash she held out her arms to the shore and called, + +"Come and dance with me. Leander, O Leander, come!" + +As she called, the east wind rushed with a wild shriek across the +water, and blew out the beacon light in Hero's chamber. Leander at his +window saw the pale light disappear and return no more. A blinding +flash of lightning rent the sky, and the rattle of the thunder sounded +as though the mountains of the earth were falling. Then the spirit of +the storm came upon him too, and he heard the voice of the sea-nymph +calling with a wild, unearthly shriek, + +"Leander, O Leander, come!" + +And he thought it was the voice of Hero calling him in deadly peril. +Perchance the thunderbolt had struck her tower, and it had crashed in +ruins about her and borne her with its falling stones into the rushing +stream below. In a mad frenzy, scarce knowing what he did, he plunged +into the seething waters and struggled in the waves with the strength +of despair. With a wild cry of joy the sea-nymph caught him in her +arms. "At last, at last, thou hast heard my call," she said. + +Up and down through the hissing waves she bore him, now plunging down, +deep, deep, into the calm green water below, now rushing round and +round in a whirlpool, now leaping from the crest of one white wave +into the boiling foam of the next, till he lay limp and breathless in +her arms. She heeded not, but bore him on, ever on, across the water +till they came beneath Hero's tower. Then, rising on the crest of the +waves that beat against the wall, she called, + +"Come, join with us in the storm-dance! Come, Hero, Hero!" + +In the breath of the east wind the stinging foam beat against the +window like one knocking in wild alarm, and the echo of the +sea-nymph's cry reached the maiden as she knelt before the shrine. +Filled with terror, she rushed to the window and looked down on the +seething water. A brilliant flash of lightning blazed across the sky, +and for a moment all was light as day. On the bosom of a breaking wave +she saw Leander with his arms tossed helpless about him, and his head +thrown back pale and lifeless, and above him stood the sea-nymph in a +robe of flashing foam. With a cry of despair Hero leaped to the sill +and plunged into the roaring waves, and with her arms about Leander, +she, too, was tossed along in the dance of Death, till the storm died +away and the nymph bore them down side by side to the floor of the +blue Ægean. There, true to her word, she set them on thrones of coral, +and twined white sea-pearls in their hair, and in time the winding +seaweeds and clinging ocean flowers wove a shroud of beauty about +them; and their bodies slept side by side in the fair ocean depths. So +did it come to pass that the curse of the gods was fulfilled. + +But whether it was truly a curse or a blessing, who shall say? For +they lived and loved with a love that has become famous among men, and +side by side they died. And does not the poet tell us of the islands +of the blest, where the souls of the brave and true abide for ever; +where the breeze blows always bright and fresh, and the golden fruits +are glowing, and the crimson-flowered meadows before the city are full +of the shade of trees of frankincense? In that far land there is no +death nor parting, no sorrow and no tears, but those who have been +true on earth dwell ever side by side. If the poet is right, Hero and +Leander are there together, where no storm can reach them and no sea +can part them ever again. + +[Illustration] + + + + +The Sacrifice of Alcestis + + +I + +Once upon a time when Pelias, the crafty king, ruled in Iolchos by the +sea, his nephew Jason came and tried to win back from him the land +that was his by right. But Pelias put him off with cunning words, and +sent him forth to Colchis in search of the Golden Fleece, thinking +that so he need never look upon his face again. Jason, therefore, who +was brave and stout of heart, and feared not man nor beast, sent a +proclamation through the land, bidding all who loved adventure to join +him in the good ship _Argo_, and sail with him for the Golden Fleece. +From the length and breadth of Hellas the heroes and sons of the +Immortals flocked. Among them came Admetus of Pheræ, in the first +bloom of his manhood, and sailing with the Argonauts, he braved all +the terrors of that fearful voyage, and sat at his oar like a man in +the midst of deadly peril. + +After many a long day the remnant of the heroes who had sailed away +from Iolchos returned with the Golden Fleece; and standing before +proud Pelias, they laid it at his feet. In the great hall of the +palace he received them sitting on his throne: on his right hand sat +Philomache his wife, and all about him stood his daughters, Peisidice +and Asteropæa, Hippothoe, and Evadne, and Alcestis--maidens whose +beauty would gladden any father's heart. But fairest of the fair, as +the moon among stars, was Alcestis. When Admetus looked upon her face, +his heart was filled with love for her, and he swore a great oath that +he would live and die unwed, or else have Alcestis to wife. + +When Pelias had welcomed back the Argonauts, he bid the henchmen +spread the tables in the hall, and soon the king with his son Acastus +and all the menfolk were seated with the heroes round the well-filled +board. Against a pillar leant a minstrel, who sang of great deeds and +heroes, and how the good ship _Argo_ had braved the terrors of the +seas; while the daughters of Pelias bore round the sweet dark wine in +flagons, and filled up the golden goblets. To Alcestis it fell to fill +up the cup of Admetus, and as he held it out towards her their eyes +met, and she blushed beneath his gaze, and tried to hide her confusion +in the folds of her veil. She was vexed with herself for the blush and +vexed with him for having called it forth. Yet withal her heart beat +fast, and the beating of it was not altogether born of wrath; for +Admetus was a proper man in the prime of life, who had sailed the high +seas and seen danger face to face, and a brave man's admiration is +ever dear to a woman's heart. So it came to pass that when Admetus +drew from his breast a lock of the Golden Fleece, which Jason had +given him for a memorial, and held it forth to her, she refused it +not, but took it and hid it in the folds of her gown, and when Admetus +was gone away she would draw it forth and sigh as she looked at it. + +When Admetus saw that she did not altogether disdain him, he was glad +at heart, and plucked up all his courage, and went and stood before +the king her father, and boldly asked her hand in marriage. As he +spoke the king's brow darkened, for he loved not Jason nor any of his +crew. He had sent them forth, as he thought, to their death, and now +they were come home to wrest the kingdom from him and give it to the +lawful heir. So he cast about in his mind for some excuse; for Admetus +was nobly born, and heir to a great kingdom, and he could not say him +nay without good reason. In his trouble he bethought him of an ancient +oracle which a soothsayer had spoken when Alcestis lay a babe upon her +mother's breast. Till now he had put aside all thought of it, and had +looked upon the seer as a mad prophet whose words were of no account. +But now that they would serve him in his need, he pretended that he +had always laid them up in his heart, and intended to abide by them. + +"Young man," he said, "they who would woo my child Alcestis must woo +and win her as the gods have ordered. When she lay in her mother's +arms, there came a prophet and stood over her and spake, saying, +'Child of evil fortune! whosoever thou weddest, woe to thy wedded +life, sobeit thy lord come not to bear thee away in a chariot drawn by +a lion and a boar.' Thus spake the prophet of the gods, and his words +shall surely come to pass. Think not, then, that I will give my +daughter up to misery, or that thou hast but to look on her beauty +and long for her, to have her for thine own. Nay; hence, away, and +bethink thee how thou canst so beguile a lion's heart that he shall +walk tamely in the yoke beside his lawful prey. Then, and then only, +when thou comest driving this strange pair shalt thou have Alcestis +for thy wife." + +Admetus was sad at heart when he heard the king's words, and he set +out sorrowfully home for the halls of Pheres, his father; for he +thought that this thing was beyond the power of mortal man to do, and +that all his life long he must live in loneliness of soul, without +Alcestis to wife. + +When they heard of their son's return, Pheres and Periclymene, his +wife, came forth to greet him, and fell upon his neck and embraced him +with tears of joy. A great feast was prepared, and the altars of the +gods sent up to heaven the savoury smoke of sacrifice, and all the +people rejoiced together at the return of the hero their land had sent +forth. + +After all the feasting and merrymaking was ended, Pheres drew his son +aside to his chamber and said, + +"My son, whilst thou hast been away in strange lands the hand of Time +hath dealt heavily with me. My knees are weak beneath me, my hair is +white with age, and all my strength is gone. Year by year it groweth +harder for me to ride forth among my people, and the folk on the far +boundary know my face no more, and I cannot say whether all is well +with them. Time is it for me to give my crown and sceptre to a younger +man, and thou hast shown thyself worthy to rule. Take now the kingdom +from my hand, that thy mother and I may pass our last years in peace +together. A mighty kingdom have I builded up for thee, and worthy of +mighty kings. See to it, then, that thou take to wife some princess of +a royal house and rear up a son to rule the land when thou art dead." + +And Admetus answered, + +"The kingdom will I take from thee right gladly, my father, and rule +it well and wisely so long as the gods shall give me strength. But as +to taking a wife in my halls, that I can never do." + +Then he told him of his love for Alcestis, and how he could never hope +to win her. But his father laughed and shook his head. + +"'Tis the way of hot-headed youth to think that in all the wide world +one woman alone hath a fair face and bright eyes. Time and the beauty +of another woman shall heal thy malady, never fear." + +"Time and another woman may drive me to my death," he answered hotly, +"but never will I wed with any maid save Alcestis alone, whom I love." + +And he strode in anger from the room. But Pheres laughed the louder. + +"Verily, young blood is the same the whole world through," said he. + +So Admetus became King of Pheræ, and ruled in his father's stead; and +from the shores of the sea below Pelion to the land of the Molossians, +the mountain-folk of the Far West, his name was held in honour among +his people; for the land had peace in his day, and the valleys stood +thick with corn, and by the fair-flowing waters of Boebe the shepherd +played his pipes, and his flocks wandered browsing about the green +meadows. No stranger was ever turned away from the palace doors, but, +however poor and ragged he might be, he was welcomed right gladly, and +feasted in the halls and sped upon his way with kindly words. So it +came to pass that through the length and breadth of Hellas, when men +spoke of good cheer and hospitality, they always raised the cup in +honour of Admetus, the kindliest of hosts to rich and poor alike. + + +II + +One day as Admetus sat at meat in the great hall with his parents and +all the household, a thing befell which changed the course of his +whole life. Inside the fire burnt brightly on the hearth, and the +torches on the walls sent a cheerful gleam through the shadowy +vastness. But outside the wind howled about the corners of the palace +like Furies in their wrath, and anon it sunk down to a sob and a wail, +while the lashing of the rain against the walls was as the whip of a +furious driver urging on his steeds. And lo! from out the darkness of +the storm there came a man, who stood in the doorway of the great hall +and looked round about upon the company. Many a long mile must he have +come that day in the teeth of the gale, for from head to foot he was +splashed with mud, and the water ran from his ragged cloak in +streamlets, making a pool upon the floor. In his hand he carried a +staff; from a strap about his body hung a strange instrument such as +no man in the hall had ever seen before; and he held his head up +proudly and looked fearlessly about him, so that for all his sorry +raiment he seemed no common beggar, but a young king in all his pride. +A hush fell upon the people as they gazed, for his eyes shone +strangely bright, and in the darkness of the shadowy doorway his +stature seemed greater than that of mortal man. When he had looked his +fill and saw where Admetus sat, he strode across the hall with great +swinging strides, and came and stood before him. As he walked the +people looked silently after him, for a great ship running before the +wind was not more fair than he. + +"O king," he said, and his voice rang clear and mellow through the +hall, "a suppliant I stand before thee, and my hand is red with blood. +Say, wilt thou receive me in thy halls, or wilt thou turn me forth +into the storm and darkness?" + +And Admetus marvelled at his words. + +"Who art thou, stranger, to make this bold request? When a man's hand +is stained with blood, 'tis to the altars of the gods that he should +fly for cleansing, and not bring pollution to the palaces of kings." + +"My name it behoveth thee not to know now, nor the deed I have done. +Let it suffice thee when I say that not yet have the altars of that +god been built who hath the power to cleanse me from blood-guiltiness. +Nay, myself I must work out mine own cleansing, and for the waxing and +the waning of twelve moons it is decreed that I must serve a mortal +man. Wilt thou take me for thine herdsman--yea or nay?" + +At this Admetus marvelled the more, and looked hard in the face of the +stranger, but his eyes fell beneath the other's fearless gaze as those +of a dog beneath his master's; and he answered him never a word, for +he felt that the thought of his heart lay writ beneath that piercing +look as clear as writing on a tablet. So he signed to his attendants, +and they led the stranger forth and bathed him in warm water, and +anointing him, clad him in fresh sweet linen and a tunic of silk. When +all was accomplished, they led him back to the hall; and if the people +had marvelled before at his beauty, their wonder was increased twofold +as they gazed at him now. + +When he had taken his fill of meat and wine, the stranger turned to +Admetus and said, + +"My noble host, fain would I, in some poor measure, requite thee and +thy household for kindness to a wanderer and a suppliant. I have some +small skill in song, and have fashioned me an instrument whereon I +play sweet harmonies, that frame the melody of my song like the golden +setting of a gem. Have I thy leave to sing before thee in thy halls?" + +As Admetus bowed his head the stranger loosed the curious instrument +from his girdle. The body of it was the hollow shell of a tortoise, in +the rim of which two twisted horns were cunningly fitted, joined +together towards the top by a silver band. The space between the band +and the furthermost edge of the shell was spanned by seven strings of +gold. Lovingly he drew his fingers across the strings, and the chords +rang soft and true through the silence of the hall, as he played a +prelude to his song, and anon raised his voice and sang. He sang a +strange, sweet song, such as no man there had ever heard, and yet in +the depths of his soul each one of them felt that he had known it +before he was born. For the song that the stranger sang was the song +that the stars first sang together when the universe was born, and +light sprang forth from the darkness. The melody they made that day +vibrates for ever till the end of time. Musicians and artists and +poets, and those whom the gods love, hear it and sing it, each in his +separate way, for those who have forgotten the sound of it. Deep in +the heart of every man it lies voiceless, till once at least in his +lifetime the hand of the divine musician sets the chords vibrating, +and opens the ears of the soul to hear the heavenly harmonies. Such +was the song that the stranger sang, and the people sat breathless +beneath his spell, and gazing deep into the red-hot heart of the fire, +saw strange dreams and visions. The very dogs awoke from their sleep, +and crept closer to the music, and with their heads between their +paws, gazed with unblinking eyes at the singer; and a magic thrill ran +round the circle of them that listened, both man and beast, and welded +and fused their souls in one, so that they felt that the life in them +all was the same. When the song was ended, silence fell upon all +things--even the storm outside had ceased to rage; and Time stood +still as each man sat motionless in his seat, with heart too full for +speech. But at length the spell was broken, and with a sigh and a +whisper, they glided away to their rest, till Admetus and the stranger +were left face to face before the hearth. + +"O divine musician," said Admetus, "I know not who thou art. This only +do I know, that I could worship thee for the godlike beauty of thy +song, and follow thee and serve thee all my days." + +"Nay, O king; 'tis destined that I must serve thee, and be thy +servant for a year. To-morrow I will lay aside this silken doublet, +and put on the dress that suits my station, and go forth with the +other shepherds of thy flocks." + +"O stranger, this thing can never be. Who am I that thou shouldst be +my servant?" + +"Thou art the man who turneth not the stranger from thy doors, though +his hands, like mine, be red with blood. As for me, I must work out my +cleansing, as I told thee. For blood-guiltiness is mine, though I have +not sinned in the shedding thereof. But even Zeus himself, thou +knowest, hath not reached wisdom and might, save by sore struggle +against powers less wise than he. Happy am I if by the service of an +upright man I may be purified." + +From that day forth the stranger became a herdsman in the halls of +Admetus, and in no wise would he be treated differently from the other +servants. Clad in the coarse, rough homespun of a shepherd, he would +go forth at early dawn with the flocks, and at eventide return and sit +among his fellows at the lower table. The hearts of all the household +were warmed towards him, and it seemed that in his presence no evil +thing could live; for if ever a quarrel or strife of tongues arose, a +look from the stranger would take all the spirit from the combatants, +and the matter fell dead between them like a ball at the feet of +listless players--nay, it seemed that he could read the very thoughts +of their inmost hearts, and all malice and unkindness withered away in +the sunshine of his presence, like sprigs that have no root. Strange +tales were told of how he shepherded his flocks, for the shepherd +lads who went forth with him at dawn would lie at his feet in some +shady grove whilst the flocks browsed close at hand; and he would take +his lyre and sing to them of all things in heaven and earth, and at +the sound of his voice the hearts of all living things were moved. +From the rocky heights of Othrys the lion came down and fawned at his +feet with bloodless fangs, and the spotted lynxes gambolled with the +flocks. The shy fawns forgot their fears and left the shelter of the +tall pine-woods, and danced about his lyre with fairy feet; for the +magic of his singing made the whole world kin, and the bow and the +arrow were laid aside in those days, and no watchman stood upon the +heights to guard the herds from beasts of prey. But the flocks +increased and multiplied, and the earth brought forth rich harvests of +corn and fruit, and all the land had peace. So Admetus loved and +honoured his strange herdsman above all his fellows, and took counsel +with him, and followed his advice in all things. + + +III + +Meanwhile in Iolchos by the sea the old king Pelias had died. His son +Acastus succeeded to his throne, and, as the custom was, held great +games in honour of his father. Far and wide through Hellas he sent the +news, and bade all men of might come and take part in the contests of +running and wrestling and hurling the quoit. To the victors in each +trial he offered to give one of his sisters in marriage, but for +Alcestis he made the contest doubly hard, for she was the fairest and +noblest of the daughters of Pelias, and he knew that the suitors +would flock without number for her hand if the task that was set them +was not well-nigh impossible. So he ordained that he who would win her +must prove himself the mightiest of all men in the field that day, and +that, moreover, he must come to bear away his bride in a chariot drawn +by a lion and a boar; for so the king, her father, had ordered in +obedience to the words of the prophet. + +When Admetus heard the news, the fire of his love for Alcestis burst +forth into flame, and he felt that he could conquer the whole world to +win her. When he went to rest that night he could dream of nought but +her, and of how all men would marvel when they saw him come to bear +her away in a chariot drawn by a lion and a boar. How he was to train +this strange yoke-pair he knew not, but he felt that Alcestis was not +one whom the gods had fated to live unwedded all her days. From the +length and breadth of Hellas men would flock to woo her, and surely +from all the host one would be found to do this deed, and why should +he not be that one? So he argued, and dreamed sweet dreams of love and +happiness. But,--whether it be that sweet dreams take the heart from a +man, because in sleep they put within his grasp visions which, on +waking, he finds to be but shadows of a shade, and he longs to clasp +them once again without the labour and toil which alone on earth can +bring man happiness,--certain it is that when he awoke Admetus felt +that the task was hopeless, and that all his efforts would be vain. +His heart was in a tumult; his longing for Alcestis was as strong as +ever, but the confidence of winning her was gone. He went out into the +woodland and threw himself on the grass beside the stream and gazed +moodily into the dark depths of a pool. Its silent stillness so +maddened him that he cast a pebble into the midst, and watched it as +it slowly sank, feeling that it was an image of his own life. An hour +or more he sat there idly playing with the pebbles and the water, +heavy at heart, and a prey to morbid fancies. At length he was roused +from his dreaming by the sound of music far away. Slowly it drew +nearer, and from the shadow of the trees came the strange herdsman +playing on his lyre, followed by his flocks and the wild creatures of +the forest. Without a word he came and sat beside Admetus at the +water's edge, and the animals lay grouped around. Then he changed the +key of his song from a merry dance-tune to a solemn lay, and the +burden of his song was love--how love, if it were but strong and pure, +could conquer the whole world and accomplish deeds undreamt of. As +Admetus listened, the tumult of his heart was stilled, and once again +the flower of hope sprang up in his breast--not the phantom flower +that springs from idle dreams, but the bright living flower whose +roots are firmly planted in the will to do and dare all things to win +the promised prize. + +When the herdsman had ended his song, he laid aside his lyre and gazed +at Admetus. + +"Dost thou love this maiden with all thy heart and soul, Admetus?" he +asked. + +"I would face the whole world to win her," said he. + +"Wouldst thou lay down thy life for her?" + +"Why ask so poor a sacrifice? My life without her would be a thing of +nought." + +[Illustration: From the shadow of the trees came the strange herdsman, +playing on his lyre.] + +Again the herdsman gazed at him, and seemed to read his inmost soul. + +"In sooth, I verily believe that, were death now to face thee, thou +wouldst gladly die for her. Go forth, then, and win thy bride, and I +will help thee all I can. If thou fulfil the first part of the test, I +will see to it that thou fail not in the second." + +"Master," cried Admetus, "what meanest thou?" + +"Go thou and enter the lists for Alcestis, and show thyself the best +man in the field that day. When they hail thee victor, and bid thee +come to fetch away thy bride, as her father willed, answer boldly that +the next day at noon thou wilt come in a chariot drawn by a lion and a +boar to bear her away to thine own land. Then do thou hasten alone to +the wood that lies on the road to Pheræ, five miles from Iolchos, and +there, by the temple of Hecate, wilt thou find me and the chariot +ready harnessed. Believest thou that I can do this thing?" + +"O master, do I not see before me the lion lying tamely by the sheep +and the wolf by the side of the lamb? How can I doubt thy power?" + +"So be it, then. One word of counsel would I give thee: in the day of +thy triumph forget not the gods." + +"From my youth upwards have I honoured the gods, O stranger. How, +then, in the day of my triumph, should I forget them?" + +"May they deliver thee in the hour of thy wealth, Admetus, and save +thee from blindness and hardness of heart! Above all, when thou art +coming home with thy bride, beware lest in thy haste thou pass by the +altar of Hecate without the tribute of a prayer. Mighty is the +goddess, and in her hands are life and death. The sun with his glad +warm rays shines down upon the bosom of the earth, and draws forth the +young corn from her breast, and with loving hand he paints the purple +bloom of the grape. But when summer skies are cloudless, and the +breath of the breeze smites hot upon the land, men pray for rain and +the cooling veil of mists to hide the parched and thirsty fields from +the cruel shafts of his rays. Even so is the might of Hecate; in one +hand she hath a blessing, in the other a curse. She may stand beside +thy wife in the hour of her need, and bring thy children with joy into +the world (for the life of all young things she loveth); or if she be +slighted, she can blast the parent-stock ere it hath time to bear +fruit, and cut off the fair promise of the race." + +"Surely, I will not forget her," said Admetus. + +"An hour before noon, then, on the day after the contest of the +suitors, I will await thee in the wood. May the gods speed thee in thy +trial!" + + +IV + +On the day before the games were to be held Alcestis went on to the +roof of the palace, and looked down upon the great courtyard below. +All was bustle and confusion. The bronze gates stood wide upon their +hinges, and a stream of people passed to and fro. The chariots of the +suitors thundered across the pavement. Through the colonnades +re-echoed the clattering of horses' hoofs and the clanging of harness +chains, and from his post at the gateway the warder shouted his orders +to the pages and attendants. Far out across the country Alcestis +gazed and traced the white roadway where it wound over the bosom of +the plain. He for whom she was looking had not entered the courtyard, +and she strained her eyes to see whether, among all the folk who were +wending their way towards the city, she could find him. But the palace +stood high upon the hill, with the houses of the town nestling below, +and the folk upon the road were like flies, so small and black they +seemed upon the dusty highway. Many a long hour she watched upon the +roof, and still he came not. At length the sun went down behind the +mountains in a glory of crimson and gold, and the purple hills cast +their shadow across the silent plain. Then Alcestis laid her head upon +her arm, and great tears stole through her fingers, and fell upon the +cold stone parapet. + +"Ah me, the gods are cruel!" she sobbed. "They have planted the seed +of love within my heart, and now they would have me tear it out. Hard +is a woman's lot. In bitterness of soul she sits within, whilst out in +the great world men fight for her beauty, as though she were some +painted image or lifeless weight of gold. On the slipping of a foot or +the cast of a die her fate may rest for weal or woe, and the happiness +of her life hang upon the issue of a moment." + +Then she felt in her bosom for the lock of the Golden Fleece which +Admetus had given her, and drew it forth and kissed it. + +"Alas, he has forgotten me! He is a great king now, and thinks no more +of the maiden in whose eyes he looked when he first came back from his +voyage." + +Sadly she put the lock back in her bosom, and turned and went down the +turret-stair. It was close upon the hour when all the suitors were to +be feasted in the great hall, and with her sisters she was to sing the +pæan song at the pouring of the third libation. Full often had she +sung it in her father's halls; for only unwedded maidens, pure and +innocent of soul, might sing it, and ask for blessings on their home +and kindred, and return thanks to great Zeus, the saviour, for the +gladness of a well-filled board and the happy faces of friends and +kinsfolk round the hearth. Her heart was heavy within her when she +thought that now for the last time this task would be hers, and that +only one more sun would set before she would be far away in a strange +land, the wife of a man whose very name she knew not yet. Her one hope +lay in the words of the prophet and the will of her father, that she +should wed that man only who could come to bear her away in a chariot +drawn by a lion and a boar; and from the depths of her soul she prayed +that all might find the task impossible. + +"Better to die a maiden," she thought, "than to be the prize of a man +I do not love." + +As she reached the bottom of the stair she heard her sisters calling. + +"Alcestis, Alcestis, where art thou? The feast is wellnigh finished, +and all men wait for us to sing the pæan song. Tarry no longer, but +hasten and come." + +"I come, I come," she answered. "Yet the song of joy upon my lips will +echo like a dirge through the chambers of my soul." + +And the sisters marvelled at her, and shook their heads. + +"She hath always wayward fancies," they whispered, "and is different +from other folk." + +Their hearts were a-flutter with hope and joy, for on the morrow they +would each one be wedded to a brave man, and go to a strange new land, +and be queens in their own palaces. So they took no heed of her words, +but tripped along the galleries with joyful feet, and took their +places in the crowded hall. After them came Alcestis. Slowly, and with +sad, unseeing eyes, she took her seat beside them. + +Meanwhile Admetus had tarried alone outside the city walls. He had +sent his servants before him with his chariot and his gear to secure a +stabling for his horses and a sleeping-place for himself in the +crowded alcoves of the king's palace. But his soul longed for peace +and quiet, and he felt he could not face the noisy crowd before it was +needful. Time enough if he slipped into the great hall when the +company was gathering for the feast. Only then might he hope to see +Alcestis. So he turned aside into the quiet fields and wandered by the +winding stream. Behind him the dust rose in white clouds from the +high-road as the chariots of the suitors thundered up towards the +palace, and Admetus knew that many a brave and mighty hero would stand +against him on the morrow. Yet hope burned high in his heart, and he +felt that his love for Alcestis was a power which his rivals lacked--a +power which would nerve his arm and give him the strength of ten. The +desire of his heart went up to the throne of Zeus like the breath of a +good man's prayer; and Zeus heard the cry of his soul, and into his +veins he poured of that fire which runs in the veins of the +Immortals. On earth men know not what to call it, and they name it +with many names--inspiration, genius, and the spirit of prophecy, or, +when it works too far beyond their understanding, they call it +madness. + +As the sun was sinking low in the sky, Admetus turned up the steep +roadway to the palace. In the courtyard he found his servants, and +they brought him water to wash with, and a change of raiment, and +clothed him as befitted one who had come to woo a fair princess. As +the shades of evening fell he entered the great hall, and mingled with +the company, and when the tables were spread, he took his seat among +the rest. But when his neighbour spoke to him, he would answer at +random, and ever his eye wandered restlessly up and down the hall to +find Alcestis. Now the feast drew to its close, and yet no womenfolk +appeared. At last one of the serving-men drew aside the great curtain +that hung across the doorway, and as the daughters of Pelias entered +Admetus felt his heart leap in his bosom, and he leant eagerly across +the table. The moments that passed before Alcestis came seemed +eternity, and when at length she entered, her eyes were cast upon the +floor, and she saw him not. But when she had taken her seat, the +silent voice of his soul sped across the great hall, and found an echo +in her heart, and she raised her eyes and looked at him, and for one +moment they two were alone in that crowded place. + +And now the wine was mixed, and each man held out his cup for the +pouring of the third libation. Then Alcestis rose from her seat, and +her sisters played a prelude on their pipes. When the prelude was +ended she raised her voice and sang. + +"O all-bestowing Zeus, Father Almighty, for the mercies thou hast +showered upon us, for the evil thou hast warded off, lo, with thankful +hearts we make libation of the sweet dark wine! O friend of the +stranger, who searchest out the secrets of men's hearts, midst the +whirlwind rush of the chariots and the dust of the wrestling-ring, +stand thou beside the brave man and the true! Make firm his axle-pin, +and the earth beneath him sure, and chain blind Fortune's hands. So +shall the prize fall to the most valiant. To those whose lives must be +moulded by another's will, grant thou patience and an understanding +soul, O Lord, and may the desire of their heart be according to thy +will. O father of gods and men, cloud-enthroned, who ridest on the +wings of the whirlwind, joy and sorrow by thee are blended into one +harmonious whole. By the sunshine of thy mercy, by the scorching fire +of thy wrath, open thou the blinded eyes of men to see the glory of +thy works. All hail to thee, saviour and king most high!" + +As she sang the people marvelled, for her voice was as the voice of +some priestess of the gods filled with the breath of heaven. + +When the feast was ended, the pages took down the torches from the +walls, and led forth the guests to the shadowy alcoves where each +man's couch was laid, and there was silence in the halls. On noiseless +wings Sleep glided through the palace, and stood by each man's side. +With gentle hands she soothed his weary limbs, and put fresh courage +in his heart for the contest of the morrow. But when she came to +Alcestis she found her gazing out upon the starlit sky. + +"My daughter," she said, "come to my arms and lay thy head upon my +breast, and I will ease the trouble of thine heart." + +"Ah, sweet Sleep, not to-night," Alcestis answered, "for with Zeus a +mortal's fervent prayer availeth much. I cannot stand beside Admetus +in the lists, but at least he shall not fail for want of a true +heart's prayer to-night." + +So Sleep passed her by, and till the bright-haired dawn shone out in +the east Alcestis sat by the open window. When it was light she went +to rouse her sisters, for early in the morning they were to lead the +procession of the maidens to the temples of the gods and lay wreaths +and garlands before the shrines, while the men-folk gathered in the +plain to watch the contest of the suitors. + +Now once more there was bustle and confusion in the city, and the +streets were thronged with eager folk hurrying to the lists. Ever and +anon there was a shout, and the crowd parted this way and that, like +the earth before a ploughshare, as a chariot thundered over the stones +bearing some proud suitor to the games. Last of all, when everything +was ready, came the king, Acastus, and took his seat beneath a canopy, +and the people rose as one man, and greeted him with cheers. Then came +a herald, and blew a call upon his trumpet, and one by one the suitors +marched up and stood before the king, and with a loud voice the herald +proclaimed each man's name and station and the contest he would enter +for that day. Truly it was a goodly sight to see them marching past, +strong men all, in the prime of life. Broad were their shoulders, and +their limbs were straight and brown, and the rhythm of their marching +was like the swell of the sea. Never since the day when all the heroes +gathered at the call of Jason for the search of the Golden Fleece had +there been such a goodly concourse of men in fair Iolchos. From all +the wide plain of Thessaly they flocked, from hill-girt Attica and the +Spartan lowlands, from Argolis and the green valleys of Arcadia, and +from the isles of the sea. + +All the day long the people sat and watched the games, and ever and +anon a shout went up to heaven when a strong man overthrew his +adversary, or one swift of foot passed the others in the last lap of +the race. There was hurling of quoits, and leaping and wrestling, and +beneath the feet of the boxers the earth was trampled hard. Far away +across the plain the chariots flew, and the people shaded their eyes +with their hands, and strained to see which was foremost. But the dust +rose in clouds about the horses' breasts, so that till they were close +at hand no man could say who was leading. + +At last the great day drew to a close, and once more the herald stood +before the king and blew a call upon his trumpet. Each in turn the +victorious suitors came forward, and when the herald had proclaimed +his name and the contest he had won, the king placed a crown of leaves +upon his head, and told him which of the daughters of Pelias was to be +his bride. Brave men were they all, and bravely had they fought that +day, but mightiest among the mighty had been Admetus of Pheræ. Last of +all the victors, the herald called his name, and he came and stood +before the throne; and the king placed the crown of leaves upon his +head and said, + +"In token that thou hast proved thyself the mightiest in the field, I +place this garland on thine head, Admetus. Verily, the gods have stood +upon thy side and filled thee with the fire of heaven, so that the +strength of thine adversary was turned to weakness before thy might. +May they grant thee, in like way, to fulfil the last part of the task; +for, of a truth, it would grieve me to see one so mighty depart +without a prize." + +Then Admetus answered boldly, + +"But one more sun shall set, O king, before Alcestis shall be my +bride. To-morrow at noon will I come to bear her away in a chariot +drawn by a lion and a boar." + +And those who heard him marvelled at his confidence. + + +V + +The next day towards noon the king came forth and sat upon a throne in +the portico before the palace, and all the nobles and suitors stood +round about and waited to see if Admetus would fulfil his word. As the +sun stood high in the heavens there fell upon his ears a sound like +the moaning of the sea far away when a storm is at hand. Louder and +louder it grew, drawing nearer every moment, till at length, like the +break of a mighty wave, a host of cheering citizens surged through the +great bronze gates. Into the wide courtyard they poured, and then +stood back upon either side, and, up the alley in the midst, drove +Admetus in a chariot drawn by a lion and a boar. Straight across the +court he came, and, like well-trained steeds, the beasts looked +neither to right nor left, nor heeded the cheers of the people. With a +jingling of bells and the rattle of harness-chains, they trotted +between the ranks, and came and stood before the king. + +"I have kept my word, O king, and have come to bear away my bride, as +the prophet of the gods ordained." + +Then the king rose up and greeted Admetus. + +"Right glad am I to see thee, Admetus," he cried, "and right glad that +my sister shall be thy bride. May the gods bless thy wedded life, even +as they have blessed thy suit this day!" + +Thereupon the pages threw open the palace doors, and a chorus of +maidens came forth playing upon pipes, and singing a marriage hymn. +Last of all came Alcestis, clad in the saffron robes of a bride, and +to Admetus she seemed like the sun heralded by the stars of dawn. +Gently he took her hand and raised her into the car, and the people +piled rich tapestries and vessels of gold and silver beside them for +gifts of marriage. With a shouting and waving of hands the chariot +passed once more across the court and down through the echoing +streets, till at length they two were alone upon the white highway. +The joy that was born of their hearts threw a magic light on all the +land. The green grass waved in the meadows, the leaves danced gaily on +the trees, and from the thickets and bushes the birds sang songs of +gladness. On and on they drove, as in a dream, heeding neither time +nor distance. The glare of the dusty highway changed to the shade of +the woodland path, with green arches overhead, and a murmur of dancing +streams. Before the shrine of Hecate a shepherd had placed his +offering, and was standing with his hands held high in prayer. But +Admetus heeded neither shepherd nor shrine, nor remembered when last +he had stood there and taken his strange team from his herdsman. +Without a thought he passed the altar by. As the gleaming chariot grew +dim in the distance, the shepherd turned and watched it, till the +curve of the road hid it from sight. Even then he stood and listened +to the jingling of the bells, as though he thought that still it might +turn back. But the bells grew fainter and fainter, till he heard but a +tinkle now and again borne back on the wings of the wind, and at last +he could hear that no more. Sadly he turned back, and stood again +before the shrine with outstretched hands, then silently disappeared +into the depths of the wood. + +On went the two till the shades of night began to fall, and one by one +the stars came out in the sky. Now they drew near to Pheræ. High up +upon the hill the palace gleamed bright with many a torch, for +messengers had gone before to say that Admetus was coming with his +bride, and all the folk had gathered together to greet him on his +return. As they entered the city gates choruses of men and maidens +came forth to meet them, and up the steep hill the glad procession +wound, with the singing of hymns and playing of pipes. When they +reached the palace gates the maidens raised Alcestis in their arms, +and bore her over the brazen threshold, that no evil omen might befall +her as she entered her new home. Long and merry was the +marriage-feast, and ere it was over the night was far spent. But at +length the last libation had been poured, the last cup had passed +round the board, and the maidens stood waiting to take Alcestis to the +marriage chamber. So she rose and went with them, and they decked her +in the robes in which for the first time a young bride greets her +lord. When all was ready, they took down the torches from the walls, +and left her. Outside the door they formed in chorus to sing the +love-song till Admetus should come to his bride. + +[Illustration: Admetus heeded neither shepherd nor shrine.... Without +a thought he passed the altar by.] + +Not long did they wait. With eager steps he came and drew aside the +curtain from the doorway. In the middle of the chamber stood Alcestis, +and never had she looked more fair. As the sweet notes of the +love-song stole softly through the door, she held out her arms to +Admetus. Her hair fell in a cloud about her shoulders, and her white +robe touched the floor. From the casement the pale moonbeams fell +slanting down, and cast about her a halo of light. With the silver +shimmer of her hair and the gleam of her outstretched arms, she seemed +to Admetus a messenger of the gods come down by the ladder of light. +With a cry of joy he stepped towards her. As he did so a terrible +thing befell. Between him and his bride there rose up two huge +serpents, and as he rushed towards them they circled Alcestis about in +their gleaming coils. The nearer he drew the more closely did they +clasp her, and their forked tongues flashed like lightning about her +head. + +"Back, back!" she gasped, "or they will strangle me." + +Unconsciously he fell back. As he did so the great beasts relaxed +their grip, and fell down in shining coils upon the floor; but their +heads waved to and fro above the ground, and when once more he took a +step forward, they rose up again about her with an angry hiss. + +"Oh, leave me, leave me!" cried Alcestis. "The gods are angry, and +will not let thee touch me. Fight not against their will, or the +serpents will slay me." + +"Nay, with these hands will I strangle them," cried Admetus. + +Again he rushed forward, and again, before he could cross the room, +the monsters had wound themselves about Alcestis with a clasp of iron, +so that she could scarcely breathe. Just in time Admetus drew back, or +they would have squeezed the life from her. With a groan he turned and +fled from the room, and the love-song changed to a shriek of terror as +the maidens scattered this way and that before him. With head bowed +down and wide eyes full of horror, he staggered on like a drunken man, +and disappeared into the darkness of the silent hall. In terror the +maidens clung together, with whisperings like the twitter of +frightened birds. At length one more bold than her companions drew +aside the curtain from the door and looked into the chamber. Full in +the path of the moonbeams Alcestis lay stretched upon the floor. Her +eyes were closed, and her face was pale as with the paleness of death. +Yet there seemed nothing in the room that should have caused her to +swoon away. The maiden called to her companions, and together they +lifted Alcestis upon the couch, and ministered to her, till at length +she opened her eyes. + +Admetus meanwhile had rushed through the deserted hall and out into +the moonlit court. All was quiet, save for one solitary figure, who +walked up and down in the shadow of the colonnade. As Admetus +staggered across the court, the man came out and stood across his +path. + +"Whither goest thou, O king?" he asked. + +Raising his eyes, Admetus found himself face to face with his strange +herdsman. + +"My head burns from feasting in the crowded hall," he said, "and I am +come out to get the cool night air." + +The herdsman answered him never a word, but gazed at him with his +strange piercing eyes. And Admetus glanced this way and that, but +could not meet that steadfast look. + +"Why do the gods torment me?" he cried hotly. "What have I done that I +should be tortured on my bridal night?" + +"Nay, think rather what thou hast left undone." + +"Left undone?" cried Admetus, and pointed to the altar in the centre +of the court. "Seest thou not the fire still red from the burning of +the sacrifice? Not here only, but throughout the whole city, do they +steam with the savoury smoke." + +"Altars may steam while hearts are cold, Admetus. One fervent prayer +before the solitary shrine availeth more than hecatombs of oxen slain +without a thought. Did I not stand before thee in the path this day +and lift my hands in prayer to Hecate? But with unseeing eyes didst +thou pass me by, and the goddess is wroth at thy neglect, and her +anger standeth between thee and thy bride." + +And Admetus stood with eyes downcast before him, and had never a word +to say. + +"Yet because I love thee I will help thee once again," the herdsman +said. "Go back upon thy road and offer now thy prayers. I too will +intercede for thee, and methinks that the voice of my pleadings she +will not disdain." + +Slowly and sorrowfully did Admetus return along the road he had +travelled with so light a heart before. For three days and three +nights he was not seen within the palace, and for three days and three +nights Alcestis lay tossing to and fro upon her bed, with wild words +upon her lips, and before her eyes fearful shapes that she alone could +see. On the fourth day Admetus came slowly up the hill. The dust of +the highway clung white about his clothes, and the sweat of weariness +stood out upon his brow. Yet straightway he came and stood beside +Alcestis, and took her hand in his. Then she opened her eyes and +looked at him, and for the first time since her marriage night she +looked on a face with eyes that could see. The fearful shapes and +visions fled away, and she smiled at him with tears of joy. Then +Admetus knew that his prayers had not been vain, and that Hecate had +heard his cry, and given him back his wife. + + +VI + +Quickly the days and nights sped by, and the palace was full of joy +and happiness. At last the season came round that had brought the +strange herdsman to Admetus the year before. On the selfsame day of +the month he came and stood once more before him. + +"Twelve moons have waxed and waned, O king," he said, "since the day +when first thou gavest me shelter in thy halls. The time of my +cleansing is accomplished, and I am come to bid thee farewell." + +"Farewell?" cried Admetus. "That is a bitter word in mine ears. Fain +would I have thee with me always. Yet have I no heart to beg thee to +remain, for thou art mightier than I, and even to call thee guest and +friend would sound presumptuous in mine ears. Farewell, then. May the +gods reward thee tenfold for the blessings thou hast showered upon my +house!" + +"When first I stood within thy halls thou didst say to me, 'Stranger, +who art thou, and whose blood is on thy hands?' Dost thou not ask me +that question now once more ere we part?" + +"Master, I asked it then in ignorance of thee and of thy ways. To-day +it lieth with thee to tell me or not as thou wiliest. If thou wouldst +hide thy name from me still, I am content." + +"Nay, I will tell thee, for 'tis meet thou shouldst know. The fame of +the deed I wrought has spread far and wide throughout the world +wherever men speak with awe the name of Delphi. Thou knowest how in +the beginning Earth held the sacred shrine, and gave forth, from the +mouth of her priestess, dark and dreadful oracles, and Chaos and Night +had their seats there, and the wingless foul Furies, the trackers of +blood. Round about the awful spot the mountains re-echoed the voice of +lamentation and the cries of human victims led forth to sacrifice; and +lest at any time one strong of arm and stout of heart should come to +wrest away the shrine from the powers of darkness, there lay before +the gates a guardian fierce and terrible--Python, the sleepless +dragon. In and out and round about the portals he wound his monstrous +length, and his scales threw back the light like points of flashing +steel, and his eyes were like the red-tongued flame. No man in those +days could pass that dreadful portal, but, like a dim, uncertain echo, +the voice of the priestess floated down to the trembling folk below. +At last one day there came a shining one whose sword was the sunlight, +and his arrows were darts of living fire. With the strength of his +right arm he slew the Python, and stretched out his monstrous coils +beneath the hot sun's rays, till the flesh melted and rotted away, and +only his bones lay gleaming white upon the rocks, to show how once he +had guarded the shrine against all comers; and the victor took the +shrine and made it his own, and placed his priestess there to utter +forth true oracles to men when the divine spirit filled her breast. +The waters of the Castalian spring he purified, so that those who came +might wash away their guilt, and stand with pure hearts before the +shrine. And over the green lawns beneath Parnassus he led the choir of +the Muses, the bright-haired sisters of poetry, and music, and +dancing. Because their feet have touched the earth where Castalia has +its fount, men say that those who drink of those waters are filled +with their spirit, so that the words that they speak and the songs +that they sing are immortal, and will live for ever upon the lips and +in the hearts of men. He who did this thing and turned the darkness +into light stands here before thee now." + +"Apollo!" cried Admetus, "lord and master!" And he fell upon the +ground before him, and clasped him by the knees. "Ah, forgive the +blindness and presumption of my heart!" he begged. + +"Nay, there is nought to forgive. They that shed blood must pay the +price--yea, though it be the blood of a monster rightfully poured out +upon the ground. Light was the cost of my purification, for thou art a +kind master and an honourable man. But now my hands are clean, I go +back to my seat on fair Olympus, where high above the clouds the +deathless gods dwell evermore in the clear, bright light of heaven. +Yet do I love thee, and will not forget thee. When the shadow of +despair falls dark across thy path, call on me, and I will help thee." + +So saying, he bent forward and took Admetus by the hand, and raised +him up. Once more that piercing glance burned through to his very +soul; then the stranger turned and strode away across the palace +court. Like one changed to marble Admetus stood and watched him go. +Then with a start he rushed to the gateway, and looked eagerly down +the road. But though he shaded and strained his eyes, he could see +that familiar form no more. Only far away on the dim horizon the veil +of clouds which hung about Olympus melted away beneath the sun's +bright rays, and the snow-clad peak flashed clear and sparkling as a +crystal against the summer sky. + +"Lo, even dread Olympus smiles a welcome to the god of Light and +Truth!" said Admetus. + +Then with a sigh he turned back into the palace. + + +VII + +For ten long years Admetus and Alcestis ruled in Pheræ, and the gods +gave them joy and happiness and two children to bless their wedded +love. And when Admetus looked back to the days of the past, he was +well pleased with the story of his life. Had he not held an oar in the +good ship _Argo_, whose fame had reached to the uttermost parts of the +earth? By the strength of his arm he had won to wife the fairest maid +in Thessaly, and brought her home behind a pair such as no man before +or since had dared to yoke together. Moreover, through the length and +breadth of Hellas his house was famous as the home of hospitality and +good cheer. Not men alone, but great Apollo, the bright-haired god of +Light, had been his guest--nay, his very servant. Was he not king, +too, of a rich and fruitful land, in which year by year the earth +brought forth plenteous harvests, because the greatness of his name +held back the tide of war, and peace with unfettered feet walked +joyously through field and city? When he remembered all these things, +his heart waxed big with vanity and pride, and he began to forget the +gods and to look down upon his fellow-men, and think that he alone of +all mankind had done great deeds, and that without him the world would +be but a sorry place. This pride it was that made him do a mean thing +that marred all the glory of his life. + +One day Death came and stood beside him, and put his seal upon his +brow, and Admetus knew that he must die. When he felt that now he +stood upon the threshold of Hades, the dim dark world of the dead, +where high and low, rich and poor, strong and weak, wander for ever as +voiceless shades through the sunless groves, where kingship and +slavery are one, his heart was turned to water, and his spirit called +aloud in his anguish, + +"Apollo, O Apollo! Hear me in my sore distress, and deliver me from +death." + +Far away on the sunlit peak of Olympus Apollo heard his cry, and swift +as the lightning crosses the sky he came and stood beside him. + +"What wouldst thou with me, Admetus?" he asked. "I have come in answer +to thy prayer." + +Then Admetus raised his head, and pointed to his brow, and Apollo +gazed sadly at him. "I see the seal upon thy brow, my friend--the seal +that none may break." + +"Ah, say not that, my lord! Am I not even now in the prime of my +manhood, when others look forward to many a long year of joyous life? +Why should I die before my time? My mother and my aged father still +live, and rejoice in the sunlight, yet no kingdom standeth by the +might of their right arm. The meanest slave within my palace is more +fortunate than I. Why, out of them all, hath Death laid his hand on +me?" + +"He is but the servant of the Fates, Admetus, whose ways neither gods +nor men can understand." + +"The Fates? Are they lower than the beasts, then, and will not listen +to the voice of reason?" + +"The voice of man's reason is to them as the baying of jackals in the +wilderness, Admetus." + +"O god of Light, is there nothing that will touch their hearts? Canst +thou by thy music turn the souls of man and beast, and soothe the fury +of the whirlwind and the crying of the rain, and yet over them alone +hast thou no power? Ah! by the love thou once didst bear me, go, +strike thy lyre before them, and sing thy song of magic. Surely they +will not withstand thee, but will put my life into thy hands in return +for the beauty of thy song." + +"Because I love thee I will go, Admetus. Yet, if I go, it is because +they call me; and if I prevail, or if I fail, it is because they have +willed it long ago. Farewell." + +So Apollo sped away on the wings of the wind, far, far away beyond +earth's widest bounds, beyond the region of unmelting snow and the +land of the midnight sun, beyond the ever-rolling stream of ocean and +the deserts of the air, till he came to the unchanging land where the +three Great Sisters dwell together, without beginning and without end. +In that land there is neither north nor south, east nor west. There is +neither sun nor moon, night nor day, time nor change. On three great +thrones of mist the mighty Sisters sit, and their forms are neither +foul nor fair. On their brows are crowns of sovereignty, and in their +hands the destinies of man, which they sit spinning, for ever +spinning, into the mighty web of Life. The first is Lachesis the +Chooser. From the tangled mass beside her she picks out threads of +varied hue and hands them to Clotho the Spinner, who weaves them into +the web upon her knees. On the other side sits Atropos the Unswerving +One. In her hands she holds a pair of shears, and as the ends of the +threads hang loose on the wrong side of the web, she cuts them off and +casts them at her feet. + +So Apollo came and stood before them with his lyre in his hand. Softly +he touched the golden strings, then raised his voice and sang. At the +sound of that magic song Lachesis forgot to hand the threads to her +sister, the web dropped low on Clotho's knee, and the hand of Atropos +fell lifeless by her side, and till the ending of the song Time itself +stood still. While the magic of his singing held them spellbound +Apollo urged his plea. + +"Almighty Sisters, from the ends of the world have I come, from the +haunts of mortal man, to ask a boon for one I love." + +"Say on, Apollo. Thou hast turned our hearts to water by the magic of +thy song. What wilt thou?" + +"In the fertile land of Pheræ, Admetus lies a-dying. He is young, and +the love of life runs hot within his veins. He is a great king, too, +and rules his subjects well and wisely, and loud will be the wail of +the people if he must die before his time. If my song has pleased you, +mighty ones, O grant that he may live to a green old age." + +"All mortals would live to a green old age, Apollo, and thou lovest +many among the sons of men. There would be no end to our bounty if for +every song we must grant thee a life. Nay, ask some other boon, for +thy song has reached our hearts!" + +But Apollo turned sadly away. "There is nothing else I would ask of +you, great Sisters. For this, and for this alone, have I come." + +"On one condition only can we grant thee thy boon, Apollo. Thou sayest +that Admetus is a great king, and well loved by all his folk. If among +them all he can find one soul that will go to Hades in his place, we +will let him live on to a green old age. Surely we ask not much. Some +slave who loveth not his life, or some old man whose grey hairs are a +burden, will gladly die that one so wise and great may live on for his +people's joy." + +"So be it, mighty ones. Yet methinks 'tis an empty boon thou hast +given me, for men cling to life and the sunny days on earth, and +Admetus may seek far ere he find one who will cast it aside for the +darkness and gloom of the sad underworld. And, in any case, he is not +one to live on at the price of another's life." + +"We can grant no more," they said. + +So Apollo went back by the way he had gone; and he came and stood +beside Admetus, and told him the word of the Fates. When Admetus heard +it he was glad. + +"O God of Light, thou wast ever my friend, and now I shall owe my very +life to thee. How can I thank thee?" + +But Apollo looked through to his inmost soul. "Dost thou accept the +condition, then?" he asked. + +"What else can I do, master?" he replied. + +"Thou canst die." + +"I know it," cried Admetus; "but why must I die before my time? With +the Argonauts I sailed the unknown seas; in the lists I have fought +and prevailed against the flower of Hellas; and for twelve months a +god deigned to dwell beneath my palace roof. Surely my life is worth +more than most men's, and I do well to keep it while I may." + +"So be it," said Apollo, but his face was stern and terrible, and +Admetus trembled at his frown. "Go now, and find one who will die for +thee." And he turned and left him. + + +VIII + +When Admetus was left alone his heart was in a tumult. He felt the +wrath of Apollo like the lash of a whip, and he knew that his anger +was just. When he looked back on his life, he was ashamed at the +change which long years of prosperity and peace had wrought in him; +that much manliness at least was left him. When he thought of the +great deeds he had done in his youth, and how, when he had but sipped +of its joys, he had been ready a hundred times to cast life lightly +aside, he felt like a thief slinking guiltily home by night, laden +with the spoils that will make himself rich and leave his friend poor +and starving. If he took another's life as the price of his own, he +felt he would never be able again to look a man straight in the face. +And yet he could live his life but once; and life, with prosperity and +ease, sunshine and riches, had become more dear to him than honour, +more dear than the love and esteem of his fellow-men. His very deeds +of valour had become a snare to entice him to the path of meanness and +dishonour, to make him hold another's life as a cheap price to pay for +one so great as he. So he quenched the last spark of manliness that +still struggled for life in his heart, and sent a proclamation through +the land, bidding all those who would die that their king might live, +to come and stand before him in the palace, that he might choose +between them; for he thought that many would be glad to die for him. +For many a long day he waited, and no man came. Then he sent forth +trusty messengers to stir the people's hearts; but they returned with +words instead of men. + +"We will ride in the chase, we will sail the stormy seas, we will +fight against our country's foes, and in all these things will we risk +our lives to save the king. But we will not leave our wives and little +ones and the pleasant life on earth, for no cause save that another +may live beyond his fated time." + +Such were the words of the people. + +Then Admetus sent for all his household--the slaves that had been born +and bred within the palace. And they said that they would toil for +him all their days, but die for him they would not; for even the life +of a slave was better than the endless years of gloom in the kingdom +of the dead. + +Then the heart of Admetus grew bitter within him, and he hated the +thought of death more than ever before, when he found that even the +meanest life was dear to the hearts of men. In his despair he turned +to his aged parents, for he thought within himself, + +"Surely one of them will be ready to die for their own son. At best +they have not many years of life, and if I die before them they will +have no son to bury them and perform the funeral rites and prayers, as +only a son can do for his parents." + +So he went to Pheres his father, and begged that he would die in his +place. But his father answered, + +"Dost thou think that because thou lovest the sunlight thy father +loves it not?" + +"Nay, but in any case Death must lay his hand upon thee soon, whilst I +am in the prime of life." + +"Because the years that are left me are few, they are none the less +sweet. Nevermore in the land of Hades shall I warm my old bones in the +sun as I look forth upon the fruitful earth. So the years that are +left are doubly dear." + +"Then, when thou comest to die, men will point the finger of scorn at +thy grave. 'Behold the coward, who, though his hair was grey and his +limbs were feeble, yet refused to die for his own son!' Thy name will +be a byword throughout all Hellas." + +"When I am dead it matters little what men shall say of me," said +Pheres. + +"May the gods forgive thee for what thou hast said!" cried Admetus, +and turned away in wrath. For it was a dreadful thing for a Greek to +say he cared not what men would think of him when he was dead. + +Then Admetus went to his mother. But she, no less than his father, +clung to life, and refused to die in his stead. + +Last of all he turned to his wife, Alcestis. From the beginning she +had been ready to die for him, for she loved him, and placed his life +above her own. But he had said there was no need that she should die +and take away half the joy of his life, when another would do as well. + +"It needs a great love to sacrifice life for the sake of another," she +had answered, "and there is no one in all the world who loves thee as +I do." + +Now he found that her words were true, and that he must either die +himself or take her life as the price of his own; and his self-love +had the mastery, though he tried to persuade his heart that he was +living beyond his appointed time for his country's sake and his +people's good. Yet at bottom he was not satisfied, and his heart grew +bitter against all those who had refused to die for him, and he +accused them of being the murderers of his wife. But he knew full well +that it was his own hand that was sending her to the grave in the +flower of her life. + +At last the day of doom arrived on which Alcestis was to die. Till +then she had put aside all thought of death, and had lived her life as +though no shadow hung over her; for she thought within herself, + +"At least I will be happy my last days on earth. I shall have long +enough to mourn for my life in the kingdom of the dead." + +But now the last day had come she could put away the thought of death +no longer. Before a gleam of light shone forth on the far horizon she +was up to greet the first rays of the sun, for she was a true daughter +of Hellas, and she loved the glad sunshine and all that was bright and +fair, while death and darkness and the gloom of the sad underworld +filled her soul with horror. For the last time she looked upon the +faint gleam in the east and watched it spread over the sky, and saw +the red disc of the sun as he rose from the way of the sea and made +the pale dawn blush. The clouds were tinged with glory, and the +heavens were filled with light, and the earth awoke with a smile of +flowers dancing in the glad morning breeze. Then she washed in the +fresh fountain water, put on her gayest robes, and went and stood +before the altar on the hearth, to pray her last prayer on earth. + +"O lady Goddess! I am going far away across the dark river of Death, +and for the last time do I make my prayer to thee. Ah, when I am gone, +have mercy on my children. Hard are the ways of the world, and they +are young to be left without a mother's love. Put forth the right hand +of thy pity, lady, and bring them to a glad old age. Let them not +perish, as I must, in the bloom of their life, but give to my son a +loving wife, and a noble husband to my daughter; and may they be happy +all their days!" + +Then she went through the palace and bade farewell to all the +servants. To each one she gave her hand, even to the meanest slave of +them all, and spoke kindly to them. And they bathed her hand with +their tears, for they loved their mistress, and knew that when she +died they would lose a good friend. As she went the children clung +weeping about her skirts, for they, too, knew that she must die. + +Last of all she went alone to her chamber, for she could endure no +more; and she threw herself upon her couch, and wept as though her +heart would break. She kissed the pillows and smoothed them tenderly +with her hands. + +"Alas, alas! for the happy days on earth," she cried, "and happiest of +all the years that I have lived here as the wife of Admetus! Farewell, +my couch--farewell for ever!" + +She tried to tear herself away, but again and again when she had +reached the door she turned back and fell once more weeping upon her +couch. At last she felt the weakness of death creeping over her, and +she knew if she did not leave her chamber then, she would leave it +nevermore alive. All her tears were spent, and she had no strength +left to weep any more. Outside in the great hall Admetus sat with his +head upon his hands, weeping for his wife, and cursing the bitterness +of his fate. And she went and stood beside him. + +"Take me out into the sunlight, Admetus," she said; "the darkness +within oppresses me. I can breathe more freely in the air." + +When he looked at her he was afraid, for she was as pale as death. +Gently he raised her in his arms, and placed her on a couch in the +portico before the palace. And when she saw the blue sky and the +sunshine she smiled. + +"O sun and light of day," she said, "and ye dancing, eddying clouds, +farewell!" + +"O ye gods, have mercy!" cried Admetus. "My dearest, look up, and +leave me not all desolate." + +But with a cry of fear she started up, and pointed in front. + +"Look, look! The boat of the dead, and the ferryman of souls with his +hand upon the pole--Charon! He calls, 'Alcestis, why dost thou tarry? +Hasten and come with me.'" + +"Ah, Fate, Fate--cruel Fate!" cried Admetus. + +"He is snatching me away--oh, save me!--down, down to the dark halls +of death. Away, let me go! He frowns with his dark gleaming brows. Ah, +the dread journey before me!" + +"Leave me not, leave me not!" cried Admetus. + +"Lay me down again," said Alcestis, and her voice was scarce more than +a whisper. "The strength is gone out of my limbs, and darkness creeps +over my eyes. My children, where are you? Come here, my little ones, +and nestle close beside me." + +And the children crept silently to her. + +Then she held out her hand to Admetus. + +"My lord," she said, "farewell. Already my feet are planted in the +paths of death, and thou canst not hold me back. I have been a loving +wife to thee, Admetus; my beauty, my youth, my joy of life--all these +I give to thee. Ah, when I am dead, forget me not, for the children's +sake, for these poor little ones--promise me. Promise me thou wilt not +wed again, for a stepmother's heart would be hard against my children, +and they would suffer. Promise me that thou wilt be a father and +mother to them in one." + +[Illustration: And the children crept silently to her.] + +"I promise," said Admetus. + +"Then into thy hands I give them. Poor little ones, what will you do +without me? My son, for thee thy father will ever be a strong tower of +defence, and will bring thee up to be a true man. But for thee, little +maiden, my heart bleeds. Thou wilt have no mother to dress thee on thy +wedding-day, or to comfort thee in thy sorrows, when there is no love +like a mother's. Be doubly tender with her, Admetus." + +"I will, I will. All that thou sayest I will do, and more also. Not +for one year only, but all my life long, will I mourn for thee. Forget +me not, I pray thee. Prepare a place for me below, that I may be with +thee when I come to die." + +"Nay, I will not forget thee. Lay me back now. I can say no more." + +Gently he laid her back, and knelt down by her side, and all they that +stood around bowed their heads in silence, for they knew that Death +was standing in their midst. + +At last Admetus looked up. + +"My friends," he said, "she is gone. Help me now to carry her in, that +the maidens may clothe her in the robes of death." + +Gently and reverently, with heads bowed in grief, they carried her in. +The maidens clad her in long white robes, and laid her on the bier, +and the mourners stood round and sang a dirge for the dead. On the +threshold before the palace Admetus placed the locks he had shorn from +his head in token that within one lay dead, and he put on long black +robes of mourning, and took off the golden circlet from his brow. +Throughout the city he sent a proclamation to say the queen was dead. + +"Men of Thessaly," it said, "all ye who own my sway, come, share with +me in sorrow for my wife who is dead. Shave the bright locks from your +heads, and don your sable robes. Harness your four-horsed chariots; +put the bit in the mouths of your steeds. Cut off the long manes from +their necks, and follow with me to her grave. Let not the voice of the +flute be heard in your streets, nor the sound of the lyre, till full +twelve moons have waxed and waned; for she was the noblest of women, +and dearest of all on earth to me. Her life she sacrificed for mine. +Pay her high honours, then, for she is most worthy." + + +IX + +Whilst the preparations for the funeral were being made, anyone who +chanced to look along the highroad would have seen a stranger making +his way towards the palace. He was a strong man and tall--three cubits +and more in height. The muscles of his arms and chest stood out like +thongs of cord. In his hand he carried a huge knotted club, and over +his shoulders hung a lion's skin. If the wind or the sun were too +strong, he would draw the jaws of the beast over his head like a hood, +and the great teeth shone out white and terrible over his brows and +under his chin. He walked along with great swinging strides, balancing +the club upon his shoulder as though it were some light twig, and not +heavy as a sapling oak. As he went through the villages the people +stood aside from his path in wonder, and even the strongest champion +of them all would whisper, "May the gods deliver me from ever having +to stand up against him in single combat. In his little finger is the +strength of my right arm." + +But he walked on, little heeding what folk thought of him, singing now +and again snatches of some drinking-song, and passing the time of day, +or cracking some joke with those he met upon the way; for, in truth, +he had a merry heart, and wished well to all mankind. Those who were +frightened when first they saw his club and lion's skin forgot their +fears as soon as they could see his face, for his eyes were blue and +laughing as the summer sky, and his smile was bright as the sun in +spring. And yet there were lines and scars about his features which +proved that he was no idler, but one who had looked labour and danger +in the face. + +So he came to Pheræ and went up the steep path to the palace. It +chanced that Admetus was standing in the portico on his way in. When +the stranger saw him he shouted out, + +"Hail to thee, Admetus! Turn back and greet an old friend." + +When Admetus heard him, he turned and came towards him. + +"Welcome, Heracles," he said, and held out his hand to greet him. + +But when Heracles saw his black robes and shorn locks he was troubled. + +"I have come at an evil hour, Admetus," he said; "thou art mourning +for one who is dear to thee." + +"Ay," he answered; "it is true." + +"One of thy children, can it be, or thy father?" + +"Nay, there is nought amiss with them. It is a woman I am carrying out +to burial this day." + +"Is she a stranger, or one of the family?" + +"She is not one of the family. Yet she is very dear to us, for on her +father's death she came and lived with us. She was a fair and noble +woman, and all the house is plunged in grief at her death." + +"Then I will leave thee and go elsewhere. A house of mourning is no +place for guests." + +"Nay," cried Admetus; "I beg of thee, do not go. Never yet have my +halls turned away a traveller from the gates. The dead are dead. What +more could we do for them? 'Twould do them small good to lack in +friendship for the living. Come in, come in, I pray thee." + +In spite of all his entreaties, he forced him to come in, and bade his +steward take him to a guest-room apart, where he might eat and drink, +and hear nothing of the sounds of mourning when the body was carried +out to the tomb; and he did all in his power to hide from his guest +that it was Alcestis who was dead; for he was ashamed for Heracles to +know that he had allowed his wife to die for him. + +Meanwhile all had been prepared for the funeral, and a train of +citizens stood waiting in the court to follow behind the bier. Their +long black robes fell trailing in the dust; their heads were shorn in +grief, and with slow steps they followed behind the bier, whilst the +mourners sang a dirge for the dead. + +"O daughter of Pelias, farewell, farewell for evermore! Mayest thou +have peace in the world below and such joy as may be in those sunless +places! O thou black-haired god of Death, never has one more noble +come down to dwell in thy halls; never, O Charon, thou grim ferryman +of souls--never hast thou carried a burden more precious across the +dark and dreadful stream! Oft shall thy praises be sung, lady, by +minstrels of music in every land. On the seven-stringed mountain-lute +shall they sing thee, and in hymns, without lyre or lute, in Sparta, +when the circling seasons bring round the summer feast-time, and all +night long the moon rides high in heaven. In bright and shining Athens +shall they praise thee, too; for thou alone, O brightest and best, +hast dared to die for thy lord, and give up thy young life for him. O +dark Necessity, who shroudest all men about with death, how heavy is +thy hand upon this house! From thee none can flee, and Zeus himself +bows down before thee. Thou alone, O goddess, hast no temple, no +images to which men turn in prayer, neither hearest thou the voice of +victims slain. Alcestis is gone--gone for ever. Our eyes shall see her +no more. Light may the earth lie above thee, lady. Dear wast thou when +thou wast among us; dear shalt thou be, too, in death. No mere mound +of the dead shall thy tomb be, but honoured of every passer-by, as +some shrine of the Immortals. The stranger toiling up the winding way +shall bow his head before it and say, 'Here lieth one who died for her +lord; now she is a blessed spirit. O lady, have mercy upon me!' So +great shall be thy glory among men for ever. Fare thee well, fare thee +well, most beautiful." + +So they laid her in the polished tomb, and placed rich gifts about +her, and sacrifices of blood to the grim god of Death. When all the +rites were accomplished, they went away sorrowful. + + +X + +Meanwhile Heracles had been led to a guest-chamber apart, and the +servants ministered to all his wants, and brought him water to wash +with, and change of raiment. As they waited on him, he talked gaily to +them of his adventures on the way, and made them laugh in spite of +their grief for their mistress. Only the old serving-man stood aloof, +and looked darkly at the stranger who dared to make merry in a house +of mourning. + +When he had washed and dressed, he sat down to meat. They placed an +ample meal before him, and brought him wine to drink. But in his eyes +their bounty was dearth, and he kept calling for more till they could +scarce contain their astonishment at his appetite. At length, when he +had eaten his fill, he crowned his head with vine-leaves, and fell to +drinking long and deep. The wine warmed his heart, and sent a cheerful +glow through all his veins. So happy was he that he could not sit in +silence, but raised his voice and sang, and his singing was like the +roaring of a bull. + +"Great Zeus, preserve us!" sighed the old waiting-man; "never have I +heard anything more discordant and unseemly." + +But the guest grew merrier and merrier, and the face of the +serving-man, as he watched, grew longer and longer. At length Heracles +himself noticed his disapproving countenance. + +"Ho, there!" cried he; "why so dark and gloomy, my friend? I had as +soon be welcomed by an iceberg as by thee, old sour-face." + +The serving-man answered him never a word, but only scowled the more. + +"What!" cried Heracles, "is this the sort of welcome thou art wont to +give thy master's guests? Come hither, and I will teach thee better +ways." + +And he took hold of the old man and set him down beside him at the +table. + +"Alack! What a countenance! And all for a strange girl who has chanced +to die. How wilt thou look when one of thy masters is laid in the +grave? I like not this mask of hypocrisy, my friend. Thou carest not +for her who is dead, but pullest a long face, and strikest a chill to +the hearts of all beholders, because, forsooth, it is seemly to mourn +for the dead. Why, we must all pay our tribute to death, every man of +us, and no one knoweth whether he shall ever see the next day's light; +then count the present as thine own, and eat and drink with me and +make merry. A frowning face profits not the dead--nay, it serves but +to blacken the sunshine of this life that we can live but once. Up, +man, drink and wash away thy frowns! Believe me, life is no life at +all--only labour and misfortune to those who walk through it with +pompous steps and sour faces." + +And he poured out a brimming goblet. + +"All this I know full well, master," answered the old man, "but the +shadow that has fallen on this house is too heavy for me to join in +thy revelry." + +"Thou makest too much of death. Thou canst not grieve for a stranger +as thou wouldst for one of the household. Thy master and mistress +live. Let that suffice thee." + +"What! My master and mistress live? Alas! my master is too kind a +host." + +"Must I starve, then, because a strange girl is dead?" + +"It is no stranger, I tell thee, but one most near and dear." + +"Have I been deceived? Has he hidden some misfortune from me?" + +"Ask no more, but go in peace. My master's sorrows are for me to bear, +not for thee. And he bade me not speak of it." + +"Speak, speak, man! I see he has hidden some great sorrow from me. Who +is the woman who is dead?" + +"Ask me not. My master told me not to say." + +"And I forbid thee not to say. Tell me forthwith!" + +So fierce and terrible did he look that the old man trembled before +him. + +"May my lord forgive me!" said he. "It is Alcestis, his wife." + +"Alcestis!" cried Heracles. "And he would not share his sorrow with +me, his friend, but let me come in and feast and sing while he went +out to bury her. Woe is me! I thought he loved me." + +"It was to spare thee pain that he did not tell thee, master." + +"How came she to die?" asked Heracles, and took off the vine-leaves +from his head, and poured out the wine upon the floor. + +Then the old man told him the whole tale. + +"Where have they buried her?" he asked, when it was ended. + +"Out yonder, where the white highway leads to Larissa, in the plain. +There, on the outskirts of the city, thou wilt find the tomb of the +kings of Pheræ, where they are laying her." + +"Is there no shorter way I can go and reach her quickly?" + +"There is a footpath by the fields that I will show thee." + +"Come, then, straightway. I must go and lie in wait for the black Lord +of Death. He will come up to drink of the blood that is poured out for +him beside the tomb. Then I will fall upon him from my ambush and +wrestle with him and prevail, and he shall give me back Alcestis. Even +if I must go down to Hades and fetch her, she shall come back. She is +too fair and too noble to pass her young life in the dark underworld." + +The old man marvelled at his words; but he went out with him, and +showed him the footpath across the fields, and stood watching him till +he passed out of sight. + +"Verily, we talk and weep," he muttered to himself, "and he laughs and +acts. He is worth ten of us." + + +XI + +Meanwhile the funeral procession was coming back along the highway. As +they came into the city each man departed to his own house; only +Admetus with his near friends and kinsmen returned to the palace to +celebrate the funeral feast. Whilst they were waiting for the feast +to be prepared, Admetus stayed outside alone in the court. He sat down +on one of the stone seats beneath the colonnade, and buried his face +in his hands. He could not bring himself to go into the house, where +everything would remind him of the wife he had lost--the chair in +which she used to sit, empty now; the fire on the altar burning low, +and the ashes scattered about, because she was there no more to feed +the dying flames. The full force of the sacrifice came home to him +now, and he shuddered as he thought of the deed he had done. + +"I have slain her--I have slain her whom I loved, to save myself from +death, because I loved my life, and hated to go to the dark world +below. Woe is me!" he cried. "The sun is turned to darkness and the +earth to Hades since she went away. I grasped at the substance, and +all the while I followed after a shade. Fool that I was to upbraid +them who refused to die for me and cast her death in their teeth! She +is dead, dead--slain by my hand alone. Nevermore can I look my people +in the face, nor glory in the deeds I have done. The shame of my +cowardice will blot them all out, and I shall slink like a cur among +my fellows. Would that I had died with her!" + +Thus he sat making fruitless moan. His friends came out and tried to +comfort him and bring him into the house, but he sent them away, and +would not go in. All the evening he sat there alone till darkness +began to fall. At length he felt a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder, +and, looking up, he saw Heracles standing beside him. + +"Why couldst thou not trust me, Admetus?" he asked. "All thy +household, all the city, knew that thy wife Alcestis was dead. Me +only, thy familiar friend, didst thou keep in ignorance. I had thought +to stand beside thee in thy sorrow, and thou didst not even tell me of +it." + +"I was ashamed," answered Admetus. + +"Well, well, what is done cannot be undone. There is but one way now +that thou canst prove thou art still my friend. After I had eaten, I +walked out across the fields, and came upon a place where the people +were holding games and giving rich prizes to the winners--horses and +oxen, and a fair woman to the best man of all. When I saw the woman I +determined to win her. So I entered for the contest and beat all my +rivals. The woman I have brought back with me now, and beg of thee to +keep her till I come back from the wild Thracian folk, for I cannot +take her with me there. If by any chance I should never come back, but +meet my fate away, I give her to thee to keep for thyself. I have +brought her with me now to give into thy care." + +As he spoke, he led forward by the hand a woman who had been standing +near him. She was closely veiled, so that Admetus, when he glanced up +at her, could not see her face, but only the outline of her form. + +"Oh, take her away, take her away!" he cried. "In height and figure +she is like my wife, and I cannot bear to look upon her. I would do +much for thee, my friend, but ask not this of me. No woman shall ever +live in my house again. Take her to some other of thy friends." + +In spite of all Heracles could say, he refused to take her. + +"I see that thou wouldst no more be my friend, Admetus," he said at +last. "First thou wilt not tell me of thy sorrow, and now thou wilt +not do this little thing for me. I will go and trouble thee no more +with my friendship." + +At this Admetus was cut to the quick. + +"Ah, say not that. Thou knowest that I love thee, but this is a hard +thing thou askest. Whenever I look at her I shall be reminded of my +wife. And the tongue of slander will not be silent. Men will say that +I take comfort, and have forgotten the woman who gave her life for +mine. Nevertheless, if thou wilt have it so, I yield. Take the woman +in, or let one of the servants show her the way." + +"Nay," said Heracles; "to thee alone will I trust her. She is fair and +noble, and I would not have her treated as a common woman." + +And he forced Admetus to take her by the hand. + +"Now I know that thou wilt treat her honourably, thou mayst look upon +her face," he said, and lifted up the veil which shrouded her. + +When Admetus saw her face, he fell back terrified, for, pale and +beautiful, scarce looking as though she breathed, Alcestis stood +before him. + +"Ye gods!" he gasped; "the spirit of my wife!" + +"Nay," said Heracles, "but her very self." + +"Thou mockest; it cannot be." + +"It is no mockery, as who should know better than I who won her?" said +Heracles. "By Zeus, I have wrestled many a tough match, but never a +one so tough as this, the gods be praised! I have met Death face to +face, and I hope I may never have to stand up against him more." + +[Illustration: She answered him never a word, but held out both her +hands and raised him from his knees.] + +"Ah, my friend, how can I thank thee? I have not deserved so much +joy," cried Admetus, and fell on his knees before them. + +"I thought not of thy deserts, but of hers," said Heracles. "Come, +take her in." + +"I dare not touch her. Ah, lady, canst thou love one who sent thee to +thy death?" he asked, with head bowed down before her. + +She answered him never a word, but held out both her hands and raised +him from his knees; and he looked deep into her eyes, and found them +full of love. Tenderly and humbly he put his arm about her and led her +away, and felt that, if anything on earth could ever raise him from +the depths of selfishness and meanness to which he had fallen, it +would be the boundless, measureless love of the woman before him. + +"Now to change the funeral feast to a banquet of rejoicing," cried +Heracles. "Truly, I could eat an ox after this last bout of mine." + +[Illustration] + + + + +The Hunting of the Calydonian Boar + + +In the city of Calydon long ago there were great rejoicings because +the queen Althæa had given birth to a son, her first-born, who, if he +grew to years of manhood, would in time sit upon the throne of his +father OEneus, and rule the land. Some seven days after the child +was born it chanced that the queen was lying alone in her chamber, +with the babe upon her breast. It was winter-time, and the shades of +evening had fallen early about the room, but a bright fire blazed upon +the hearth, and the flickering flames threw dancing shadows on the +walls. The queen was very happy as she pressed her baby to her breast, +and held its soft little hand in hers, and whispered in its ear words +which only a mother knows how to use to her child. + +As she lay she watched the shadows playing up and down upon the walls, +and to her eyes they took strange forms of men and beasts. Now it was +a great fight she saw, with horses and chariots rushing over a plain, +and mighty warriors meeting face to face in battle; now it was a +hunt, with winding of horns and dogs straining at the leash, and a +white-tusked boar breaking through a thicket. But whether it was a +hunt or whether it was a battle, everywhere there was one figure of a +man she watched--a man tall and fair and brave, who stood out +conspicuous among his fellows--such a hero as her son might grow to be +if he lived till years of manhood. And she prayed that her vision +might come true, and her son grow up to be a hero--a man mighty in +sport and mighty in battle. In time the flames died down, and the fire +burned clear and still upon the hearth. The queen's eyes grew heavy, +and she was about to turn on her side to sleep when a strange thing +happened, which took from her all desire for rest. The wall of the +room in front of her, which had glowed bright and cheery in the +firelight, grew grey and misty and seemed to vanish before her eyes, +and through the opening there came towards her the forms of three +strange women, taller and more terrible than any women of earth. The +first one carried in her hand a skein of thread, the second a spindle, +and the third a pair of great sharp shears. The queen lay still and +motionless with terror as they came forward slowly arm in arm and +stood beside the couch, looking down upon the child at her breast. At +length the first one spoke. + +"I give to thy child, Althæa, a thread of life exceeding bright and +fair." + +"And I," said the second, "will weave that thread into dark places, +where it will shine the brighter for the darkness round about, and +bring him honour and great renown." + +The third one said never a word, but walked slowly round the couch +till she stood before the fire on the hearth. A great brand had fallen +from the grate, and lay smouldering on the stones. Bending down, she +took it in her hand, and thrust it deep into the red-hot heart of the +fire, and stood watching it till it was well alight, and the tongues +of flame shot crackling upwards. Then she turned towards the queen. + +"As soon as that brand upon the fire is consumed," she said, "I will +cut the shining thread with my shears, and his life shall be as ashes +cast forth upon the wind." + +As she spoke, she held out the shears, and they gleamed sharp and +cruel in the firelight. + +With a cry of terror the queen sprang up from her couch, forgetful of +her weakness, and thinking only of the life of her child; and she +rushed across the room, and, drawing forth the blazing brand from the +fire, she smothered it in her gown, and crushed it beneath her bare +feet, till not a live spark remained about it. Then she hid it in a +secret place where she alone could find it, and cast herself upon her +couch and knew no more. When the attendants came in, they found the +room empty, save for the queen and her child; and she lay senseless on +the couch, with her feet and her gown all scarred and burnt. + +For many a long day she lay between life and death, but at last the +gods had mercy, and her strength came slowly back to her. But when +anyone asked her the cause of her burning, she would shudder and +mutter some strange tale of a brand which fell from the fire, and +would have burnt out the life of her child. What she meant no one ever +knew, but they thought that the gods had stricken her with a sudden +fever, and that, not knowing what she did, she had burnt herself in +the fire. But of the half-burnt brand and of the word of the Fates +they knew nothing, for Althæa had said in her heart, + +"The Fates have spoken, and their word shall surely come to pass. A +fine and fair thread of life has Lachesis given to my son, and Clotho +will weave it into dark places, where it shall shine exceeding bright. +The gifts they have given are good. The hand of Atropos alone is +against him, and she has measured his life by the life of a frail +piece of wood. But so long as the gods shall give me strength no +careless hand shall place that brand upon the flames, and no man shall +know the secret of his life, for grief or madness may turn even the +heart of a friend. On me, and on me alone, shall my son's life rest; +for well do I know that neither prayer nor sacrifice can avail to turn +the heart of Atropos, the Unswerving One." + +So she kept the brand securely hidden where she alone could find it. +Many other fair children did she bear to OEneus the king--Phereus +and Agelaus and Periphas, and Gorge and Melanippe, and the hapless +Dejaneira, who married Heracles, and unwittingly caused his death. But +best of them all she loved Meleager, her first-born; for the word that +the Fates had spoken came true. He grew to be a great warrior and a +mighty man, and was feared by his foes and loved by his friends +through the length and breadth of the land; for there were great wars +in those days between the Curetes of Pleuron and the Ætolians of +Calydon, and on either side fought men whose names were not despised +among their fellows, but among them all there was none so famed as +Meleager. In all the country-side there was no man who could hurl the +javelin with such force and skill as he, and whenever he went forth to +battle the victory lay with the men of Calydon, and he was called the +saviour and protector of his city. + +When he was in the flower of his manhood, the call of Jason came from +far Iolchos for all the heroes of Hellas to join him in his search for +the Golden Fleece. Amongst them sailed Meleager in the good ship +_Argo_, and came to the land of the dusky Colchians on the shores of +the Euxine Sea. One tale goes that he slew Æetes their king, the child +of the Sun, and saved his comrades from deadly peril. But whether this +be true or no, certain it is that he played his part like a man, and +came back to Calydon with a fair name for courage and endurance. Then +was he hoisted on the shoulders of his countrymen and carried through +the streets of the city, and feasted right royally in his father's +house. + +Soon after his return it chanced that the harvest was more plentiful +than it had ever been within the memory of man. The golden corn stood +high upon the plains, and on the sunny mountain-sides the olive-trees +were thick with berries, and the vine-branches drooped low with their +weight of purple fruit. Wherefore OEneus the king ordered a great +thanksgiving to be held throughout the land in honour of Dionysus and +Demeter and grey-eyed Pallas Athene, who had given such good gifts to +men. At every shrine and temple the altars smoked with sacrifice, and +glad bands of youths and maidens with garlands on their heads danced +hand in hand around, singing the song of the harvest. + +"All hail to thee, Demeter, great Earth-Mother! From Evenus to the +silver eddying waters of wide Achelöus thou hast covered the bosom of +the plain with golden ears of corn, and they dance beneath the west +wind like the waves on summer seas. All hail to thee, Dionysus, who +bringest joy to the heart of man! About thine altars the juice of the +vine shall flow like water, and the souls of those who were bowed down +beneath labour and toil shall be uplifted to thee in the glad +harvest-time. And Pallas Athene, grey-eyed maiden, thee too we hail, +for thy gift of the fragrant olive. The shade of thy trees lies cool +upon the panting hill-sides, and thou hast looked with kindness on our +land. Oh, come hither, all ye townsfolk and ye dwellers on the plains +and hills--come hither in your hundreds, and dance about the altars, +and sing thanksgiving to the great gods on high." + +Thus did they dance and sing, and there was gladness and rejoicing +through all the land, and not one soul among them all knew how soon +their laughter would be turned to tears. For when Artemis, the +huntress, saw that everywhere the altars smoked in honour of Demeter, +and Dionysus, and Pallas Athene, but that never a single stone was +raised to her, she was filled with jealousy and wrath. One night, when +all the land lay sleeping, she left the mountains, where she loved to +hunt, and came down to Calydon. The arrows in her quiver rattled as +she strode along in her wrath, and the flash of her eyes was as the +flash of summer lightning across the sky. With great swinging strides +she came and stood over OEneus as he slept. + +"O king," she said, "too long have I been patient and waited for my +dues; but I will suffer thine ingratitude no more. When the young corn +stands green upon the plain, and the vine-leaves are shooting, and the +trees cast once more their shade upon the bare hill-side, then shalt +thou have cause to know my power. Demeter may sow her golden grain, +and Dionysus and Pallas Athene may fill their fruits with gladdening +juice, but thou hast yet to learn that, if it be my will, though the +promise of the harvest be fair, the fruits thereof shall lie spoilt +and ungathered where they grew. Broad and dark are the forests which +cover wild Arachynthus, and deep the ravines, and many a wild beast +lurks therein that is tame at my word alone. One of these will I let +loose upon thy land. Many a fair field shall be trodden underfoot, and +many a vineyard and olive-grove laid waste--yea, and red blood shall +flow, ere my wrath be assuaged, and I take away the pest from your +midst. I have spoken, and no sacrifice shall turn me from my word." + +Thus did she speak, saying the words in his ear, and turned and left +the room by the way she had come. With a start he awoke from his sleep +and looked around him, but no one could he see. Only a sudden storm of +wind lashed the branches of the trees against each other, and a dark +cloud hid the face of the moon. + +"The sad winter-time is coming," he thought, "with its storms and its +darkened days. Yet, lest there be aught in my dream, I will remember +Artemis to-morrow, and her altars, too, shall smoke with sacrifice." + +So on the morrow a great festival was held in honour of Artemis, the +maiden huntress, and OEneus laid aside all thought of his dream. But +when the spring-time came and the early summer, he had cause to +remember it with sorrow, for out of the forests of Arachynthus there +came a great boar which laid waste all the country, right and left. In +size he was more huge than an ox of Epirus, whose oxen are the largest +in the world, and the bristles on his neck stood up like spikes. His +breath was as a flame of fire that burned up all that stood in his +way, and his cruel little eyes gleamed red with blood. Over the +cornfields he raged, and trampled the green blades beneath his hoofs, +and with his strong white tusks he tore down the vine-branches and +broke the overhanging boughs of the olive, so that the young berries +and fruit lay spoilt upon the ground. Not only did he lay waste the +fields, but the flocks and herds on the pasture-land were not safe +from his attack, and neither shepherds nor dogs could protect them +from his fury. Through all the country-side the people fled in terror +for their lives, and hid within the city walls, only now and again a +band of the bravest would go forth and lay nets and snares for him; +but so great was the strength of the beast that he broke through every +trap they could devise, and, killing any man who stood in his path, he +would return, with greater fury than before, to his attack upon the +fields and cattle. At length things came to such a pass that, unless +the monster could be checked, famine would ere long stare the people +in the face. When Meleager saw that neither prayer nor sacrifice would +turn the heart of Artemis, nor any ordinary hunting put an end to the +boar, he determined to gather around him a band of heroes who, for the +sake of glory, would come together for the hunt, and either kill the +beast or perish themselves in the attempt. So he sent a proclamation +far and wide through all the kingdoms of Hellas. + +"O men of Hellas," he said, "the fair plains of Calydon lie trodden +underfoot by a grievous monster, and her people are fallen upon evil +days. Come hither and help us, all ye who love adventure, and fear not +risk nor peril, ye seasoned warriors whose spirit is not dead within +you, and ye young men who have yet your name to win. Come hither to +us, and we will give you fair sport and good cheer withal." + +In answer to his call there flocked from far and wide to Calydon a +great host of brave men, and mighty was the muster which gathered +beneath the roof of OEneus for the hunting of the boar. Jason +himself came, the leader of the Argonauts, and Castor and Pollux, the +great twin brethren, whose stars are in the sky. There was Theseus, +too, who slew the Minotaur, and Peirithous his friend, who went down +with him to Hades, and tried to carry off Persephone from the king of +the Dead. And swift-footed Idas came, and Lynceus, his brother, whose +eyes were so sharp that they could see into the centre of the earth. +Others were there besides, whose names are too many to tell, and +Toxeus and Plexippus, the brothers of Althæa the queen, whom she loved +as she loved her own son Meleager. For as a little maid she had played +with them in the palace of Thestius, her father, and she remembered +how she would watch for them to come home from the hunt and clap her +hands with joy, when from afar she saw them returning home with their +spoil. And they would fondle her and play with her, and so long as +they were with her she was as happy as a bird; but when they went +away, her heart ached for them to come back. The memory of those days +still shone bright within her heart, and when her brothers came with +the other guests for the hunting of the boar, she welcomed them right +gladly. In the great hall a sumptuous feast was spread, and loud was +the laughter and bright were the faces, as one friend met another he +had not seen for many a long day, and sat down by his side in +good-fellowship with the groaning board before them. The feast was +well under way when one of the attendants whispered in the ear of the +king that yet another guest had come for the hunting of the boar. + +"Who is he?" asked the king. + +"My lord, I know not," the man replied. + +"Well, keep him not standing without, at all events," said OEneus, +"but show him in here, and we will make him welcome with the rest." + +In a few moments the man returned, and held back the curtain of the +great doorway for the new-comer to enter. All eyes were turned eagerly +that way to see who it might be, and a murmur of surprise ran round +the hall; for they saw upon the threshold no stalwart warrior, as they +had expected, but a maiden young and beautiful. She was clad in a +hunter's tunic, which fell to her knee, and her legs were strapped +about with leathern thongs. Crosswise about her body she wore a +girdle, from which hung a quiver full of arrows, and with her right +hand she leant on a great ashen bow like a staff. Her shining hair +fell back in waves from her forehead, and was gathered up in a coil +behind, and she held her head up proudly and gazed round on the +company unabashed. The glow of her cheek and the spring of her step +told of life in the open, and of health-giving sport over hill and +dale, so that she might have been Artemis herself come down from her +hunting on the mountains. She looked round the hall till her eyes fell +on OEneus, the host, in the place of honour, and in no wise troubled +by the silence which her coming had caused, she said, + +"Sire, for my late-coming I crave thy pardon. Doubtless some of thy +guests have come from more distant lands than I, but, as ill-luck +would have it, I chose to come by way of the sea instead of by the +isthmus, and for a whole day I ate out my heart with waiting by the +shrine of Poseidon for a favouring breeze; for the east wind blew like +fury across the Crisæan Gulf, and any barque that had ventured to try +the crossing had been blown to the isles of the Hesperides ere it had +reached thy land. So I waited perforce till the wind fell and I could +cross over in safety." + +Concealing his surprise as best he could, OEneus answered, + +"Maiden, we thank thee for thy coming, and make thee right welcome in +our halls. Yet we fain would know thy name who, a woman all alone, +hast crossed barren tracts of land and stormy seas unflinching, and +come to take part in a hunt which is no mere child's sport, but a +perilous venture, in which strong men might hesitate to risk their +lives and limbs." + +As she listened to his words she smiled. + +"O king," she said, "thou hidest thy surprise but ill. Yet am I not +offended, nor will I make a mystery of who I am. My name is Atalanta, +and I come from the mountains of Arcadia, where all day long I hunt +with the nymphs over hill and over dale, and through the dark forests, +following in the footsteps of her we serve, great Artemis the +huntress. At her command I stand before thee now, for she said to me, +'Atalanta, the land of Calydon lies groaning beneath the curse, +wherewith I cursed them because they forgot me, and gave me not my +dues. But do thou go and help them, and for thy sake I will lay aside +my wrath, and let them slay the monster that I sent against them. Yet +without thee shall they not accomplish it, but the glory of the hunt +shall be thine.' Thus did she speak, and in obedience to her word am I +come." + +When she had spoken, a murmur ran round the hall, and each man's gorge +rose within him as he determined in his mind that no mere woman should +surpass him in courage and strength. The sons of Thestius, the queen's +brothers, especially looked askance at her, and their hearts were +filled with jealousy and wrath; for her eye was bright and steady, and +her limbs looked supple and swift, and there seemed no reason why she +should not be a match for any man among them, in a trial where +swiftness of foot and sureness of eye would avail as much as brute +force. When Meleager saw their dark looks he was very angry that they +should so far forget their good breeding as to fail in welcoming a +guest, and he rose from his seat and went towards her. + +"O maiden," he said, "we make thee right welcome to our halls, and we +thank thee because thou hast heard our appeal, and art come to help us +in the day of our trouble. Come, now, and sit thee down, and make glad +thy heart with meat and wine, for thou must need it sorely after thy +long journeying." + +As he spoke, he took her by the hand and set her in a place of honour +between his father and himself, and saw that she had her fill of the +good fare on the board. As he sat beside her and talked with her, his +heart was kindled with love, for she was exceeding fair to look upon; +and the more he thought upon the morrow's hunting, the more loath was +he that she should risk her life in it. At length he said, + +"Atalanta, surely thou knowest not what manner of beast it is that we +are gathered together to destroy. Thou hast hunted the swift-footed +stag, perchance, through the greenwood, but never a monster so fierce +as this boar that Artemis has sent against us. I tell thee, it will be +no child's play, but a matter of death to some of us. Hast thou no +mother or father to mourn thee if any evil chance befall, or any lover +who is longing for thy return? Think well ere it be too late." + +But she laughed aloud at his words. + +"Thou takest me for some drooping damsel that sits at home and spins, +and faints if she see but a drop of blood. I tell thee, I know neither +father, nor mother, nor husband, nor brother, and I love but little +the lot of womenkind such as thou knowest. Never have I lived within +four walls, and the first roof that covered me was the forest-trees of +Mount Parthenius, which stands where three lands meet, on the borders +of Sparta, Argolis, and wooded Arcadia, that I have chosen for my +home. Whence I came or how I got to Parthenius no one can tell, and I +have no wish to find out. As for savage beasts, had I not the eyes +of a hawk and the feet of a deer, I had not been safe ten seconds on +the uplands of Arcadia. For there, as doubtless thou hast heard, there +dwells a fierce tribe of centaurs--monsters half human and half +horse--who have the passions of men and the strength of beasts. These, +when they set eyes upon me, were fired by my beauty, and pursued me +over hill and dale, and I fled like the wind before them; but ever and +anon I found time to turn and let fly from my bow a dart which fell +but seldom short of the mark. So dire was the havoc I wrought in their +herd that after a time they gave up in despair, and molested me no +more. So talk not to me of fierce beasts or of danger. All my life +long I have breathed in danger from the air about me, and I had as +soon die outright, as sit with thy womenkind in safety within, whilst +all of you went forth for the hunting of the boar." + +[Illustration: As he spoke, he took her by the hand and set her in a +place of honour between his father and himself.] + +And nothing that Meleager could say would turn her from her purpose. + +"Dost think I have left the mountains of Arcadia, and the nymphs, and +the joys and dangers of the hunt, to come and sit with the old wives +round thy palace fire in Calydon?" she said with a laugh; and her +white teeth shone like pearls in the torchlight, and the gleam of her +hair and the fire of her eyes kindled yet more surely the flame of +love in his heart, so that he could have fallen at her feet and begged +her for his sake to keep away from danger. But across the board he saw +the eyes of Toxeus and Plexippus, his mother's brothers, fixed upon +him, and their brows were dark and lowering as they frowned upon him +and Atalanta. So he said no more, lest they should discover his secret +and taunt him for his passion; but in his heart he knew that on the +morrow his thought would be as much for her safety as for the killing +of the boar. As for Atalanta, a stone would have returned his love as +readily as she. For a companion in the hunt she liked him full well, +but to give up her maiden life for his sake was as far from her +thoughts as the east is from the west. As yet she knew not the love of +man, and had vowed in her heart that she never would. Howbeit, such +things are not altogether within the power of mortals to will or not +to will, and Atalanta, like any other woman, was destined one day to +bow her proud head to the dust before a man's great love, though the +gods had not ordained that Meleager should be the one to win her. But +more of that hereafter. + +When the morrow dawned, great was the bustle and confusion in the +court of the palace, where all were to meet together for the hunting +of the boar. Attendants ran this way and that to fetch and carry for +their masters, and, as the huntsman blew his horn, the hounds barked +impatiently, and strained, whining, at their leashes. At length, when +all was ready, Althæa with her maidens came forth into the portico, +and bade farewell to her guests, her husband, her brothers, and to +Meleager, her son. + +"God speed thee, my son," she said, as she looked proudly on him, "and +good luck to thy hunting." + +Then she stood on the step and waved to them with a smile as they +turned to look back at her before the curve of the roadway hid them +from sight. But though a smile was on her lips, her eyes were full of +tears, and her heart within her was dark with a dim foreshadowing of +evil. With a heavy step, she turned and went into the house, and as +she passed the altar by the hearth she stopped and bowed her head. + +"Great Artemis," she prayed, "have mercy and bring my loved ones +safely back to me this day." + +Then she went to her chamber and drew forth from its hiding-place the +half-burnt brand on which her son's life depended. + +"His life, at any rate, is safe," she thought, "so long as this brand +is in my keeping." + +And she hid it away again where she knew no one could find it, and set +to work restlessly, to while away the hours as best she could, till +the hunters should come home. + +They, meanwhile, had gone their way up the steep path which led into +the mountains and deep into the heart of the forest, where they knew +their prey was lurking. Soon they came upon the track of his hoofs +leading to the dry bed of a stream, where the rushes and reeds grew +high in the marsh-land, and the bending willows cast their shadow over +the spot he had chosen for his lair. Here they spread the nets +cautiously about, and stationed themselves at every point of vantage, +and, when all was ready, let loose the hounds, and waited for the boar +to come forth from his hiding-place. Not long did they have to wait. +With a snort of rage he rushed out. The breath from his nostrils came +forth like steam, and the white foam flew from his mouth and covered +his bristly sides and neck. Quick as lightning, he made for the first +man he could see, and the tramp of his hoofs re-echoed through the +woods like thunder as he came upon the hard ground. As soon as he +rushed out, a shower of missiles fell towards him from every side, +but some were aimed awry or fell too far or too short of him, and +those that touched him slipped aside on his tough hide, as though they +had been feathers instead of bronze; and he broke through the nets +that had been spread to catch him, and galloped away unharmed, whilst +behind him a hound lay dead among the reeds, pierced through with his +tusk, and two of the hunters, who stood in his path, and had not been +able to rush aside in time, lay groaning on the ground with the iron +mark of his hoof upon them, and a gaping wound in the side of one. +When the rest saw that he had escaped them, they gave chase with all +speed, headed by Castor and Pollux, on their white horses, and +Atalanta close beside them, running swiftly as the wind. Ahead of them +the woodland track gave a sudden turn to the left, and the boar, +rushing blindly forward, would have plunged into the undergrowth and +bushes, and escaped beyond range of their darts. But Atalanta, seeing +what must happen, stopped short in the chase. Quick as thought, she +put an arrow to the string, and let fly at the great beast ahead; and +Artemis, true to her word, guided the arrow so that it pierced him in +the vital part behind the ear. With a snort of pain and fury, he +turned round upon the hunters and charged down towards them as they +came up from behind, and great would have been the havoc he had +wrought among them but for Meleager. As the brute bore down, he leaped +lightly to one side, and, gathering together all his strength, buried +the spear deep into the beast's black shoulder, and felled him to the +earth with the force of his blow. Immediately the others gathered +round, and helped to finish the work that Meleager had begun, and soon +the monster lay dead upon the ground in a pool of his own blood. Then +Meleager, with his foot upon the boar's head, spoke to the hunters. + +[Illustration: As the brute bore down, Meleager buried the spear deep +in his shoulder.] + +"My friends," he said, "I thank you all for the courage and devotion +you have shown this day. My land can once more raise her head in joy, +for the monster that wrought such havoc in her fields lies dead here +at my feet. Yet the price of his death has not been light, my +friends." And they bowed their heads in silence, as they remembered +the two whom the boar had struck in his rush, one of whom was now +dead. "Yet those who have suffered, have suffered gloriously, giving +up themselves, as brave men must, for the sake of others, and their +names shall surely not be unremembered by us all. Once more, my trusty +comrades, I thank you, every man of you. As for thee, lady," he +continued, turning to Atalanta, "while all have played their part, yet +the glory of the hunt is thine. But for thy sure hand and eye the +beast might yet be lurking in the forest. Wherefore, as a token of our +gratitude, I will give to thee the boar's head as a trophy to do with +as thou wilt." + +At his words a murmur of applause went round the ring of them that +listened. Only the voices of Toxeus and Plexippus were not heard, for +they were mad with jealousy and wrath, and as soon as there was +silence they spoke. + +"By what right," asked Toxeus, "shall one bear off the trophy of a +hunt in which each one of us has played his part?" + +The insolence of his words and looks roused the anger of Meleager to +boiling-point. All through the hunt the brothers had shown scant +courtesy to Atalanta, and now their rudeness was past bearing. + +"By the same right as the best man bears off the prize in any +contest," he answered quietly, though he was pale with rage. + +"Happy is that one who has first won the heart of the judge, then," +said Plexippus with a sneer, as he looked at Atalanta. + +By the truth and the falsehood of his words Meleager was maddened past +all bearing. Scarce knowing what he did, he sprang upon him, and +before anyone knew what he was about, he had buried his hunting-knife +in the heart of Plexippus. When Toxeus saw his brother fall back upon +the grass, he sprang upon Meleager, and for a moment they swung +backwards and forwards, held each in the other's deadly grip. But +Meleager was the younger and the stronger of the two, and soon Toxeus +too lay stretched upon the ground beside his brother, and a cry of +horror went through the crowd of those who stood by. Pale and +trembling, Meleager turned towards them. + +"My friends," he said, "farewell. You shall look upon my face no more. +Whether I slew them justly or no, the curse of Heaven is upon me, and +I know that night and day the Furies will haunt my steps, because my +hand is red with the blood of my kinsmen. O fair fields of Calydon, +that I have loved and served all my days, farewell for ever. Nevermore +shall I look upon you, nor my home on the steep hill-side, nor the +face of the queen, my mother; but I must hide my head in shame far +from the haunts of men. As for thee, lady," he said, turning to +Atalanta, "their taunt was false, yet true. Right honourably didst +thou win thy trophy, as all these here will testify;" and he pointed +to the hunters standing round. "Yet my soul leapt with joy when I +found that into thine hand and none other's I might give the prize of +the hunt. Wherefore, think kindly on my memory, lady, when I am far +away, for a brave man's heart is in thy keeping. Farewell." + +And he turned and went away by the forest-path. So surprised were all +the company that no man moved hand or foot to stop him. The first to +speak was Atalanta. + +"Comrades," she said, "do you bear home the dead and break the news as +gently as may be to the queen, and I will follow him, if perchance I +can comfort him, for the hand of Heaven is heavy upon him." + +So firmly did she speak that no man found it in his heart to withstand +her; and when she saw that they would do as she bid, she ran swiftly +down the path by which he had gone, and disappeared from sight. + +Meanwhile the day had been drawing towards its close, and Althæa had +come out into the portico to watch for the return of the hunters. The +rumour had reached the city that the boar had been killed, but not +without loss among the gallant band that had gone out against him, and +with a heavy heart Althæa was waiting to know who it was that had +fallen. In time she saw them returning home, and in their midst four +litters carried on the shoulders of some. When she saw them, her heart +stood still with fear, and as they came up and laid down the litters +before the doorway she was as one turned to marble, and moved neither +hand nor foot. When OEneus the king saw her, he took her gently by +the hand. + +"Come within, lady," he said; "the hunting of the boar has cost us +dear." + +"Ah! tell me the worst at once," she cried. "I can bear it better so. +The suspense is maddening me." + +"Two of those who lie before thee are strangers who have given +themselves for us," he said. "One of them is sore wounded, and the +other is gone beyond recovery. The other two, Althæa, are very near +and dear to us--Toxeus and Plexippus, thy brothers." + +And he pointed to two of the bodies which lay side by side with their +faces covered before her. With a wild cry she rushed to them, and drew +back the coverings, and gazed upon the faces that she loved so well. +As she looked, she saw the wounds that had killed them, and she knew +now that it was no wild beast that had slain them, but the hand of +man. Drawing herself up to her full height, she looked round on those +who stood by, and the gleam of her eyes was terrible to see. + +"Deceive me no more," she said, "but tell me how these two came to +fall by the hand of man." + +"Lady," said OEneus, "they sought a quarrel with one of our company, +and in anger he slew them both." + +For a moment she was silent, then in a low voice, yet one that all +could hear, she spoke. + +"My curse be upon him, whosoe'er he be. O Daughters of Destruction, +foul wingless Furies, by the blood of my brothers yet wet upon his +hand, I bid you track his footsteps night and day. May no roof cover +his head nor any man give him food or drink, but let him be a +vagabond on the face of the earth till just vengeance overtake him. +On thee, OEneus, do I lay this charge, and on my son Meleager, to +avenge the death of these my kinsmen, who have been foully slain." + +In vain did OEneus try to stop her. She was as one deaf to his +entreaties. When she had finished, she looked round for Meleager, and +when she could not see him, the blood froze in her veins. + +"My son," she cried--"where is my son?" + +"Lady," said OEneus, "even now the wingless bearers of thy curse are +hunting him through the forest." + +For a moment she swayed to and fro as though she would fall. + +"Ye gods, what have I done?" she muttered. + +Then with a cry she turned and rushed through the doorway, across the +deserted palace to her own chamber, and barring the door behind her, +she took from its hiding-place the brand she had kept jealously so +long. As on the day when the Fates had come to her, a bright fire was +burning on the hearth, and deep into the heart of it she pushed the +log with both her hands. + +"O my son, my son!" she cried; "to think that I should come to this! +But though the flame that devours thy life burns out my heart within +me, yet must I do it. Thus only can I save thee from my curse. For the +word, once spoken, never dies, and the Furies, once aroused, sleep +never, night nor day. Wherefore Death alone can give thee peace, O +Meleager, my first-born and my dearest." + +OEneus meanwhile had followed her, and stood without, asking her to +open to him. But she cried out to him, + +"All is well. I beg thee leave me. I would be alone." + +So he left her; and she stood watching the flames slowly eat the wood +away, and at last, when the log fell apart in ashes, she sank down +upon the floor, and with her son's life hers too went out for grief. + +Meleager meanwhile had gone blindly forward along the forest track, +and from afar Atalanta followed him. For a time he went onward, +straight as an arrow, never stopping, never turning. But when his +mother's curse was spoken, faster than the whirlwind the Furies flew +from the realms of endless night, and came and crouched before his +feet, loathsome shapes of darkness and of horror. With a cry he turned +aside, and tried to flee from them, but wherever he looked they were +there before him, and he reeled backwards and forwards like a drunken +man. But soon his strength seemed to give way, and he fell forward on +the grass, and Atalanta ran forward and took his head upon her knee. +To her eyes they two were alone in the heart of the forest, for the +foul shapes of the Furies he alone had seen. But now he lay with his +eyes closed, faint and weak, and she thought that some time in the +hunt he must have strained himself, and lay dying of some inward hurt +that no man could heal, for on his body she could see not a scratch. +So she sat in the gathering gloom with his head upon her lap. There +was nought else she could do. Help lay so far away that he would have +died alone had she left him. At last, when his heart beat so faint +that she thought it had stopped once for all, he opened his eyes and +looked up at her, and when he saw her the fear and the madness died +out of his face, and he smiled. + +"The gods are kind," he said. Once more he closed his eyes, and +Atalanta knew that he would open them never again. Gently she laid him +with his head on the moss-covered roots of a tree, and sped away to +the city to bear the news of his death. In the darkness of night they +bore him through the forest, and all the people gathered together and +watched from the walls the torchlit procession as it came slowly up +the hill; and the heart of each man of them was heavy within him as he +thought that the hero and saviour of his country was being carried +dead into the walls of his native town. By the side of his mother they +laid him, and burned above them the torches of the dead, and the +mourners, with heads bowed in grief, stood around. + +Thus did it come to pass that the hunting of the boar ended in grief +for the land of Calydon, and Atalanta went back to the Arcadian +woodlands with a sore place in her heart for Meleager, who had died +happy because his head was resting on her knee. + +[Illustration] + + + + +The Curse of Echo + + +In the flowery groves of Helicon Echo was once a fair nymph who, hand +in hand with her sisters, sported along the green lawns and by the +side of the mountain-streams. Among them all her feet were the +lightest and her laugh the merriest, and in the telling of tales not +one of them could touch her. So if ever any among them were plotting +mischief in their hearts, they would say to her, + +"Echo, thou weaver of words, go thou and sit beside Hera in her bower, +and beguile her with a tale that she come not forth and find us. See +thou make it a long one, Echo, and we will give thee a garland to +twine in thy hair." + +And Echo would laugh a gay laugh, which rang through the grove. + +"What will you do when she tires of my tales?" she asked. + +"When that time comes we shall see," said they. + +So with another laugh she would trip away and cast herself on the +grass at Hera's feet. When Hera looked upon Echo her stern brow would +relax, and she would smile upon her and stroke her hair. + +"What hast thou come for now, thou sprite?" she would ask. + +"I had a great longing to talk with thee, great Hera," she would +answer, "and I have a tale--a wondrous new tale--to tell thee." + +"Thy tales are as many as the risings of the sun, Echo, and each one +of them as long as an old man's beard." + +"The day is yet young, mother," she would say, "and the tales I have +told thee before are as mud which is trampled underfoot by the side of +the one I shall tell thee now." + +"Go to, then," said Hera, "and if it pleases me I will listen to the +end." + +So Echo would sit upon the grass at Hera's feet, and with her eyes +fixed upon her face she would tell her tale. She had the gift of +words, and, moreover, she had seen and heard many strange things which +she alone could tell of. These she would weave into romances, adding +to them as best pleased her, or taking from them at will; for the best +of tale-tellers are those who can lie, but who mingle in with their +lies some grains of truth which they have picked from their own +experience. And Hera would forget her watchfulness and her jealousies, +and listen entranced, while the magic of Echo's words made each scene +live before her eyes. Meanwhile the nymphs would sport to their +hearts' content and never fear her anger. + +But at last came the black day of reckoning when Hera found out the +prank which Echo had played upon her so long, and the fire of her +wrath flashed forth like lightning. + +"The gift whereby thou hast deceived me shall be thine no more," she +cried. "Henceforward thou shalt be dumb till someone else has spoken, +and then, even if thou wilt, thou shalt not hold thy tongue, but must +needs repeat once more the last words that have been spoken." + +"Alas! alas!" cried the nymphs in chorus. + +"Alas! alas!" cried Echo after them, and could say no more, though she +longed to speak and beg Hera to forgive her. So did it come to pass +that she lost her voice, and could only say that which others put in +her mouth, whether she wished it or no. + +Now, it chanced one day that the young Narcissus strayed away from his +companions in the hunt, and when he tried to find them he only +wandered further, and lost his way upon the lonely heights of Helicon. +He was now in the bloom of his youth, nearing manhood, and fair as a +flower in spring, and all who saw him straightway loved him and longed +for him. But, though his face was smooth and soft as maiden's, his +heart was hard as steel; and while many loved him and sighed for him, +they could kindle no answering flame in his breast, but he would spurn +them, and treat them with scorn, and go on his way, nothing caring. +When he was born, the blind seer Teiresias had prophesied concerning +him, + +"So long as he sees not himself he shall live and be happy." + +And his words came true, for Narcissus cared for neither man nor +woman, but only for his own pleasure; and because he was so fair that +all who saw him loved him for his beauty, he found it easy to get +from them what he would. But he himself knew nought of love, and +therefore but little of grief; for love at the best brings joy and +sorrow hand in hand, and if unreturned, it brings nought but pain. + +Now, when the nymphs saw Narcissus wandering alone through the woods, +they, too, loved him for his beauty, and they followed him wherever he +went. But because he was a mortal they were shy of him, and would not +show themselves, but hid behind the trees and rocks so that he should +not see them; and amongst the others Echo followed him, too. At last, +when he found he had really wandered astray, he began to shout for one +of his companions. + +"Ho, there! where art thou?" he cried. + +"Where art thou?" answered Echo. + +When he heard the voice, he stopped and listened, but he could hear +nothing more. Then he called again. + +"I am here in the wood--Narcissus." + +"In the wood--Narcissus," said she. + +"Come hither," he cried. + +"Come hither," she answered. + +Wondering at the strange voice which answered him, he looked all +about, but could see no one. + +"Art thou close at hand?" he asked. + +"Close at hand," answered Echo. + +Wondering the more at seeing no one, he went forward in the direction +of the voice. Echo, when she found he was coming towards her, fled +further, so that when next he called, her voice sounded far away. But +wherever she was, he still followed after her, and she saw that he +would not let her escape; for wherever she hid, if he called, she had +to answer, and so show him her hiding-place. By now they had come to +an open space in the trees, where the green lawn sloped down to a +clear pool in the hollow. Here by the margin of the water she stood, +with her back to the tall, nodding bulrushes, and as Narcissus came +out from the trees she wrung her hands, and the salt tears dropped +from her eyes; for she loved him, and longed to speak to him, and yet +she could not say a word. When he saw her he stopped. + +"Art thou she who calls me?" he asked. + +"Who calls me?" she answered. + +"I have told thee, Narcissus," he said. + +"Narcissus," she cried, and held out her arms to him. + +"Who art thou?" he asked. + +"Who art thou?" said she. + +"Have I not told thee," he said impatiently, "Narcissus?" + +"Narcissus," she said again, and still held out her hands +beseechingly. + +"Tell me," he cried, "who art thou and why dost thou call me?" + +"Why dost thou call me?" said she. + +At this he grew angry. + +"Maiden, whoever thou art, thou hast led me a pretty dance through the +woods, and now thou dost nought but mock me." + +"Thou dost nought but mock me," said she. + +At this he grew yet more angry, and began to abuse her, but every word +of abuse that he spoke she hurled back at him again. At last, tired +out with his wanderings and with anger, he threw himself on the grass +by the pool, and would not look at her nor speak to her again. For a +time she stood beside him weeping, and longing to speak to him and +explain, but never a word could she utter. So at last in her misery +she left him, and went and hid herself behind a rock close by. After a +while, when his anger had cooled down somewhat, Narcissus remembered +he was very thirsty, and noticing for the first time the clear pool +beside him, he bent over the edge of the bank to drink. As he held out +his hand to take the water, he saw looking up towards him a face which +was the fairest face he had ever looked on, and his heart, which never +yet had known what love was, at last was set on fire by the face in +the pool. With a sigh he held out both his arms towards it, and the +figure also held out two arms to him, and Echo from the rock answered +back his sigh. When he saw the figure stretching out towards him and +heard the sigh, he thought that his love was returned, and he bent +down closer to the water and whispered, "I love thee." + +"I love thee," answered Echo from the rock. + +At these words he bent down further, and tried to clasp the figure in +his arms, but as he did so, it vanished away. The surface of the pool +was covered with ripples, and he found he was clasping empty water to +his breast. So he drew back and waited awhile, thinking he had been +overhasty. In time, the ripples died away and the face appeared again +as clear as before, looking up at him longingly from the water. Once +again he bent towards it, and tried to clasp it, and once again it +fled from his embrace. Time after time he tried, and always the same +thing happened, and at last he gave up in despair, and sat looking +down into the water, with the teardrops falling from his eyes; and the +figure in the pool wept, too, and looked up at him with a look of +longing and despair. The longer he looked, the more fiercely did the +flame of love burn in his breast, till at length he could bear it no +more, but determined to reach the desire of his heart or die. So for +the last time he leaned forward, and when he found that once again he +was clasping the empty water, he threw himself from the bank into the +pool, thinking that in the depths, at any rate, he would find his +love. But he found naught but death among the weeds and stones of the +pool, and knew not that it was his own face he loved reflected in the +water below him. Thus were the words of the prophet fulfilled, "So +long as he sees not himself he shall live and be happy." + +Echo, peeping out from the rock, saw all that had happened, and when +Narcissus cast himself into the pool, she rushed forward, all too +late, to stop him. When she found she could not save him, she cast +herself on the grass by the pool and wept and wept, till her flesh and +her bones wasted away with weeping, and naught but her voice remained +and the curse that was on her. So to this day she lives, a formless +voice haunting rocks and caves and vaulted halls. Herself no man has +seen since the day Narcissus saw her wringing her hands for love of +him beside the nodding bulrushes, and no man ever shall see again. But +her voice we all have heard repeating our words when we thought that +no one was by; and though now she will say whatever we bid her, if +once the curse were removed, the cry of her soul would be, + +[Illustration: For the last time he leaned forward.] + +"Narcissus, Narcissus, my love, come back--come back to me!" + +By the side of the clear brown pool, on the grass that Echo had +watered with her tears, there sprang up a sweet-scented flower, with a +pure white face and a crown of gold. And to this day in many a land +men call that flower "Narcissus," after the lad who, for love of his +own fair face, was drowned in the waters of Helicon. + +[Illustration] + + + + +The Sculptor and the Image + + +In the fair isle of Cyprus, long ago, lived a young sculptor named +Pygmalion. As a child he had been quick to see beauty in the forms +around him, and while he found nothing better, he would dig the clay +in the garden and sit for many a long hour happy in the shade of the +trees, modelling horses and cows and human figures, whilst his mother +was busied with her duties in the house. She, for her part, was glad +he had found something to amuse him and keep him out of mischief, for +he had no brothers or sisters to play with, and his father was dead, +so they two lived alone together in a great white house between the +mountains and the sea. From time to time she would come down into the +garden to look at his figures and praise them; for though they were +childish and crude, and sometimes grotesque, they were full of life +and promise, and being a wise woman, she knew that where Nature points +the way, it is well to make the road as smooth as may be. At first she +gave him no better material to work with than the clay he could dig +for himself, nor any master to teach him; for she wished to see how +long he would persevere, and how far he would get alone. There are +times, too, when a master can hinder more than he can teach. + +One day when he was old enough, she took him down to the city below, +where the people were keeping the feast of Aphrodite, and they watched +the glad procession wind through the streets, with its choruses of +priests and maidens, and little children scattering roses in the way. +With the rest of the folk they followed the procession up the hill to +the shining temple, and Pygmalion stood beside his mother, and +wondered at the tapering white columns and the clouds of incense, and +all the colours and fair forms such as he had never seen before. The +picture of all these things he carried home in his mind, and thought +of them by day and dreamt of them by night, till they became almost as +real to him as the living forms he saw around him. Then he worked more +busily than ever at his modelling in the garden; but whereas before he +had been content to leave the figures he had made, standing them out +in rows for his mother to admire, now he was no longer pleased with +his work. He would look at the figure he had made and compare it with +the image in his mind, and he saw that while his ideal was fair and +beautiful beyond measure, his work was clumsy and rude. Then he would +set to work and alter his model. But whatever he did he was not +satisfied, and when his mother came down from the house to see him, +she found him with broken bits lying about him, and never a finished +figure to show her. + +Then she knew that one of two things had happened; either he had come +to the limit of his powers, and, as a child will, had grown tired of a +thing in which he could make no further progress; or else he had +reached an age when the mind sees fair forms which the hand cannot +fashion, and in disgust at his failure he had broken up his figures, +though they were better than what he had done before, because they +fell short of the ideal in his mind. + +"Thou art tired of playing with clay, my child," she said; "come with +me, and I will see if we cannot find something that will please thee +better." + +So she kept him with her, and taught him letters, and read to him +tales of the gods and heroes, till the child's eyes grew big with +wonder, and she saw that all she read passed before his mind like a +moving picture. She read to him from the old Greek poets, tales of +bravery and might, of love and of adventure--tales, too, of cruelty +and bloodshed, jealousy and hate. But whatever she read was beautiful, +for the Greeks loved beauty above all things else, and clothed their +thoughts in fair forms of words, so that even when they told of +wickedness and wrong they left no stain of ugliness upon the mind. +Pygmalion drank in eagerly all that was read to him, and because he +had within him the soul of a poet he understood. The music of the +words sank into his heart like seed planted in a fertile soil, which +springs up to forms of loveliness and grace. So did the old tales +bring before his eyes shapes of beauty, and once again he began to go +down into the garden and try to mould them into figures of clay. His +mother watched him, and saw that he persevered, and that week by week +his models grew more beautiful and more true, as the image in his own +mind grew clearer. Then she knew that her reading had done what she +hoped it would do, and that the vague and fleeting visions had become +for him forms as clear as those he saw around him. + +"At least my son has the soul of an artist," she thought, "but whether +he has the hands and the fingers of one who can do more than play with +the clay, the gods alone can tell. He shall have a master to teach +him, and in time we shall see whether he is one of the many in whom +the divine fire burns, but whose bodies are instruments too coarse to +carry out the thoughts of the soul, or whether he is one of the few +who are able to do that of which others vainly dream." + +So she gave him a master--a white-haired, venerable man, in whom lived +the spirit of the old Greek sculptors, who had been the first to show +mankind how stone and marble might be wrought into shapes of beauty. +He taught the lad how to work in all kinds of stone and metal, and to +copy faithfully the forms he saw around him. But he would not let him +be satisfied with this alone, for he saw that he had in him the making +of better things. + +"Pygmalion," he would say, "in life there are many things that are not +fair, but in art all things should be fair, and no art is truly great +that is not beautiful. When thou lookest on the world, see only that +which is beautiful; thou, because thou hast the soul of a poet, wilt +see beauty where others cannot find it. Drink it in as a thirsty man +will drink from the wayside stream, then give forth to the world, in +stone, copies of those ideal forms thou seest with the eye of thy soul +alone." + +The child was an apt pupil; he understood, and did as his master bade +him. + +As the years flew by, he grew to be a man and a great sculptor, so +that in the temples of the gods and the palaces of the rich his +statues stood, and at the corners of the streets, a joy to rich and +poor. The years, which had brought him to fame, had taken from him the +white-haired old man, his master, and the mother who had helped to +make him what he was; and now he lived alone in the great white house +between the mountains and the sea. But he was happy, perfectly happy, +working all day long at his images, and dreaming each night of fairer +forms that he would some day work into stone and marble. His friends +would come up from the town to look at his work, or to buy, and would +say to him, + +"Pygmalion, art thou not lonely here, all alone? Why dost thou not +take thee a wife, and rear up children to be a comfort to thee in +thine old age?" + +And he would answer, "No, I am not lonely, for my art is to me both +wife and children. I will never marry one of the daughters of men." + +Whatever they said, they could not move him from his resolve. But what +his friends could not do Aphrodite accomplished. When she saw there +was one man among the Cyprians who had reached the prime of life +without giving her a thought, or offering up one prayer before her +shrine, she was angry, and determined that he should feel her power. +So one night she sent into his mind the vision of a maiden, who in +loveliness surpassed all other forms he had ever dreamed of, and she +set his heart aflame, so that he thought he saw a living form before +him. He started up in his bed and held out his arms towards her, but +awoke with a start to find he was clasping the empty air. Then he knew +it was only a vision he had seen; but it haunted him, and he tossed +restlessly from side to side, unable to sleep. At last he could bear +it no more; while the dawn was yet grey in the east he rose from his +couch and went to his workroom. Gathering together his instruments and +some clay, he set to work to model the figure of his dream. On and on +he worked, scarce thinking of food or rest, and chose out a block of +fair white marble, which day by day grew into shape beneath his +fingers. In his hand there seemed a magic it had never had before, so +that his chisel never failed nor slipped, till the marble stood +transformed before him, shaped into the image of a perfect woman, the +vision of his dream; and he loved her as other men love a woman in the +flesh, with his whole heart and soul. But small joy did he have of his +love, for though he had fashioned her with eyes that spoke to him of +love and hands held out towards him, yet when he spoke to her she +could give no answer, and when he clasped her in his arms her touch +was the cold, hard touch of marble. Then he tried to put her away from +his mind, and covered her over with a curtain; but when he was not +looking at the marble figure, her image was still present before his +mind, and he could not forget her. Day by day his love grew, till it +became a burning fever in his heart. He grew thin and ill from want of +food and rest, and could neither work by day nor sleep by night. His +friends, when they came up to see him, marvelled at the change in +him; and when they asked to see what new work he had done he would +answer, + +"My friends, I have no new work to show you. The cunning has departed +from my hand. Never again shall I fashion the white marble into shapes +of beauty." + +They wondered what had come over him, for the image that had been his +undoing he never showed them, nor let them know what was troubling his +heart. But he made a niche for her in his chamber where the light fell +upon her from the window, and at night when he could not sleep he +would sit with his arms clasped about her ankles and his head resting +on her feet. Her face would look down on him full of pity and love, +pale and beautiful in the cold white light of the moon. When the day +dawned and the cloudlets clustered red about the rising sun, the warm +rays would fall upon her giving to her some hue of life, and +Pygmalion's heart would beat high with the hope that a miracle had +been wrought, and that his love at last had kindled a soul akin to his +own in the marble statue before him. With a cry he would put his arms +about her, but still she remained a cold, hard, unresponsive stone. So +day by day and week by week he grew more wretched; for there is nought +like a passionate love which is unreturned, and which never can be +returned, to take out the life from a man. + +At last Aphrodite had compassion on him, when she saw that he had +suffered as much and more than most men at her hands, and that he no +longer held her in disdain. One night Pygmalion, as usual, had been +kneeling before the statue with his arm clasped about her feet, till, +tired out with longing, he had fallen asleep. On the breath of the +night wind Aphrodite came in, and she kissed the statue on the lips. + +[Illustration: On the breath of the night wind Aphrodite came in, and +she kissed the statue on the lips.] + +"Let love kindle life," she said. "Live, Galatea, thou milk-white +maid, and bring joy to the heart of Pygmalion." + +Then she stole forth again through the moonlit casement, and Pygmalion +slept on unconscious. In the morning the sunlight streamed in through +the window, and fell full upon his face. With a start he awoke, and +looked up at the statue, and to his sun-dazed eyes it seemed to move. + +"O Aphrodite," he cried, "mock me not! Thou hast deceived me so +often." + +In despair he cast his arms about the image, certain that once again +he would find her a cold white stone. But lo! instead of unyielding +marble he was clasping in his arms a living woman. Her arms were about +his neck, her lips on his lips, and she looked into his eyes with a +fire that answered the fire in his own. + +"At last, at last," said he, "my love has prevailed!" + +"Even in the heart of a stone, Pygmalion," she said, "love can kindle +love. My form is the work of thy hand, and my soul is the child of thy +love. As long as stone can last, so long shall my body last; and as +long as thy love can live, so long shall my soul live also." + +"My love," he said, "will live for ever." + +"Then for ever," said she, "my soul will live with thine." + +So as husband and wife they lived together for many a long year. The +cunning came back to Pygmalion's hand, and many a fair statue did he +make for the people of Cyprus. In time he died in a green old age. His +spirit fled away to the dwelling-place of souls, and with him the +spirit of Galatea, his wife; and her body returned to the form in +which Pygmalion first had made her--a fair white marble image. In the +garden where he, in his childhood, had learned to model the clay, the +Cyprians buried him, building a fair tomb over him, and in a niche +they placed the statue of Galatea. So the words she had spoken when +she came to life were fulfilled. Her form lived as long as stone could +live, and her soul lived as long as Pygmalion could love her. And +which of us can say that this could not be for ever, or that they do +not still live in the light of each other's love in the dwelling-place +of souls? + +[Illustration] + + + + +The Divine Musician + + +North-West of the Ægean, where the cliffs of Pelion rise sheer out of +the sea, dwelt long ago Cheiron, the centaur, the wisest of living +things, half man, half horse. Many brothers had he, who in form were +like himself, but their hearts within were hard and wild, and because +of their untamed passions and their cruelty and lust they were hated +alike by gods and men. But Cheiron was gentle and mild. He knew all +manner of strange things; he could prophesy, and play upon the lyre, +and cure men of their hurts by means of healing herbs. He was brave +withal, and had been in many a bloody fight, and knew the arts of war +full as well as the arts of peace. Wherefore the old Hellenes called +him Cheiron, the Better One, and sent up their sons to live with him +that they might be taught all the things which man should know. In a +hollow cave on the mountain-side he had his home. Far up above him the +snow-capped peaks of Pelion kept watch over the nestling townships of +the plain, and far, far below the waves of the Ægean washed without +ceasing on the rocks of that pitiless coast, now soft and soothing as +the song a mother sings to her child, now loud and boisterous beneath +the lash of the storm-wind, when the seabirds fly screaming to the +shelter of the shore. All around were dark forests of chestnut, pine +and oak, where many a fierce beast had his lair. In the branches of +the trees the wild birds built their nests and filled the dark glades +with song. About the mouth of the cave the ground was trampled hard +beneath the tread of many feet, and paths led this way and that, some +into the heart of the forests, others down the steep cliff to the +shore. + +Every morning at sunrise a troop of boys and youths would come forth +from the cave, and, dividing into groups, would go their several ways +to fish or to hunt, or to follow the course of some stream to its +unknown source in the mountains. Sometimes Cheiron himself would go +with them, if he thought they had need of his help; but more often he +left them to their own devices, to follow each one his own bent as +Nature prompted him. In the evening they would come home and tell him +of their doings in the day; and he would praise or blame them, +according as they had done well or ill, and show them how they might +do better another time. Then they would go to their couches of dried +moss and leaves, and sleep the deep sleep of youth and health, while +the cool night breeze blew in upon their faces from the mouth of the +cave, and put fresh life and strength into their tired limbs. In the +winter-time, when the night was longer than the day, and the snow lay +deep upon the hills, they would light a great fire in front of the +cave with logs they had stored in the summer months, and Cheiron +would take his lyre and sing to them of all things in heaven and +earth, while they lay round about and listened. The songs which he +sang to them then they never forgot, because Cheiron was wise, and +spoke to their souls in his singing. So they laid up his songs in +their hearts; and many a long year after, when they were grown men far +away, and some danger or difficulty stood in their path, the drift of +his teaching would come back to them in the words of a song, and their +hearts would grow brave and strong once more to act worthily of their +boyhood's sunny days on Pelion. Many a hero whose name still lives +among men had been trained by Cheiron in his youth--Peleus, who +married a goddess, and Achilles his son, the swiftest and bravest of +mortal men; and Jason, the leader of the Argonauts; and Asklepios, the +mighty healer; and, not least among them, Orpheus, the greatest of +Greek musicians and mystics, whose tale I will tell you now. + +One day, as the shades of evening were beginning to fall, Cheiron +stood before the mouth of the cave waiting for the lads to come home. +Sooner than he expected he saw one of them far away coming down a path +from the mountains, and he marvelled that he should return so soon and +alone. As he came nearer Cheiron saw that he walked with his eyes upon +the ground, deep in thought. Every now and again he stopped and looked +round upon the peaceful hillsides stretching calm and smiling in the +golden glow of the evening; and when he had gazed for a moment he +sighed, as though he would breathe into his soul the beauty he saw +around him, and then went on his way once more with his eyes on the +ground. So he walked till he came close to the cave and saw Cheiron +standing in the entrance. Then he ran up to him and put his hand upon +his shoulder. + +"My father," he cried, "look round upon the hills; hast thou ever seen +them so fair as they have been this day?" + +Cheiron smiled at his words. + +"Orpheus," he said, "the fair face of the earth changes but little. In +the soul of man it lies to look upon her and see her beauty or to be +blind." + +"Till this day I have been blind, Cheiron," he said. + +"And who has lifted the veil from thine eyes, my son?" asked his +master. + +"I know not," he said. "But this morning, while yet it was dark, there +came to me a strange unrest and a longing to be alone. So I crept +forth from the cave whilst you were all sleeping, and climbed up the +mountain-side--up, up, in the grey light before dawn, till I came to +the place where the white snow lies like a cloak about the shaggy +shoulders of Pelion. There I left the track of my footsteps where no +feet but mine had trod, and climbed up upon a boulder and looked out +across the sea. And I saw the great sun rise out of the east. As I +looked it seemed that I beheld the face of God; and as the snow and +the sea and the forests awoke to life in the light of His glory, my +soul awoke within me. All the day long I wandered about the forests +and hills; and I saw the beauty of the trees and the grass, and the +grace of the wild deer as he bounded over the rocks, as I had never +seen it before. The wonder of this day lies like a burden on my heart +that I fain would ease, yet I have no words to tell of it." + +Then Cheiron took up the lyre which was lying by his side and passed +his fingers gently over the strings. + +"Orpheus," he said, "many a long year ago, when thou wast a little +lad, thy mother Calliope brought thee to me. And she put thy hand in +my hand, and said: 'Cheiron, make a man of my son. Make him brave and +fearless and strong, a worthy companion of the noble lads thou hast +around thee. When the right time comes I will breathe my spirit upon +him, and he shall be great, as few in this world are great.' This day +she has kept her word, Orpheus. She has breathed her spirit upon thee, +and has opened the eyes of thy soul and made them see." + +"Who is my mother Calliope?" asked the lad. + +"She is the Fair-voiced One who speaks through the lips of mortals by +music and song, Orpheus. With her sisters, she dwells for ever by the +sunlit streams of Helicon, where they follow in the footsteps of +Apollo, their lord, across the green lawns and the flowery meadows. +All knowledge, all music of sound and of words, comes to men by their +gift--those nine great sisters, the Muses. Happy art thou to be her +son. Take now this lyre from mine hand. Ease the burden of thy soul in +song, and learn how great is the gift she has given thee." + +So Orpheus took the lyre from his master, and struck the chords, as +all the lads who dwelt with Cheiron knew full well how to do. But +instead of the old songs that he had learnt from his childhood, a new +song came to his lips, and he sang as he had never sung before. Far +away upon the hillsides his companions heard his voice, and they +stopped upon their homeward way to listen, as the evening breeze bore +the sound to their ears. When they knew that the voice came from home, +they hastened on and drew silently near, that no sound might disturb +the singer, and throwing themselves upon the ground at his feet, +forgot their weariness and hunger as they listened. On and on he sang, +forgetful of all else but his song, till the red glow of the evening +died away in the west and the stars shone pale in the twilight. There +was a strange magic about his music which drew all living things to +his feet, as a magnet draws the cold heart of steel. From the woods +and the forests they came, and from the bare hillsides--the lion, the +leopard and the trembling fawn. The snake came forth from his +hiding-place, the rabbit from his hole, and the wild birds wheeled +about his head and settled on the brow of the cave. The very trees +seemed to hear him, as they swayed their heads to and fro to the +rhythm of his song. As he looked round upon his comrades whilst he +sang, his heart grew strong within him, for he felt that a strange new +power had been born in his soul, which could bow the heads of men +beneath his will as the wind bows the rushes by the stream. So he sang +on as the twilight deepened into night, and all the stars of heaven +came forth to listen, till at length his song died upon his lips, like +a breeze lulled to rest at sunset. For a moment the creatures lay +spellbound around him; then one by one they crept back to their homes, +with their fears and their hatreds tamed for a while by the magic of +his singing. And his companions crowded round him with words of praise +and eager questions. + +"Who taught thee thy magic song, Orpheus?" they cried. + +"The sunrise and the snow," he answered, "and the teaching of Cheiron, +and my happy days with you, and the spirit of my mother Calliope--all +these have taught me my song." + +But his answer was a dark saying to them, and not one of them +understood it, save Cheiron. He knew that it is the commonest things +in life that are the material of all that is beautiful and fair, just +as a temple may be built of common stone; but that the children of the +Muses are few, who can by music and art open the blind hearts of men +to see. + +Thus did the gift of song fall upon Orpheus, so that he became the +greatest of all singers upon earth. All day long he would wander about +the woods and the hills, and tame the heart of every living thing with +the magic of his voice. + +One day it chanced that he came into a wood where he had never been +before, and he followed a grass-grown track which led to the mouth of +a cave. On one side of the cave stood a tall beech-tree, whose +moss-covered roots offered a tempting seat, and close by a clear +stream gushed forth from the rocks. He drank eagerly of the water, for +he had wandered far and was thirsty; and when he had quenched his +thirst, he sat down on the roots of the beech-tree and began his song. +As before, the wild things gathered about him, and crouched at his +feet, tame and silent, as he sang; and from the shadow of the cave +crept a wood-nymph, and lay upon the grass, with her chin between her +hands, looking up into his face. For a time he did not see her, so +silently had she come; but at last the power of her eyes drew his +eyes upon her, and he turned his head and looked at her. When he saw +her, his arm fell useless by his side and his voice died away in his +throat, for he had never looked upon anyone so fair. Her hair was +black as the storm-cloud, but her eyes were blue as the summer sky, +and she lay like a white flower in the grass at his feet. For a long +moment he gazed into her face without speaking, as she gazed back at +him, and at last he spoke. + +"Who art thou, maiden?" he asked. + +"I am Eurydice," she answered. + +"Thy hair is black as midnight, Eurydice," he said, "and thine eyes +are bright as the noonday." + +"Are not midnight and noonday fair to thine eyes?" she asked. + +"They are fair indeed, but thou art fairer." + +"Then I am well content," she said. + +"I know not thy name nor thy face, Eurydice," said he, "but my heart +beats with thy heart as though we were not strangers." + +"When two hearts beat together, Orpheus, they are strangers no more, +whether they have known each other all their days, or have met as thou +and I have met. Long ago the fame of thee, and of thy singing, reached +mine ears, but I hardened my heart against thee, and said, 'It is an +idle rumour, and he is no better than other men, before whose face I +flee.' But now the gods have brought thy steps to the hollow cave +where I dwell, and thou, by thy magic, hast drawn me to thy feet, so +that I, who doubted thy power, must follow thee whithersoever thou +wilt." + +[Illustration: From the shadow of the cave crept a wood-nymph, and lay +upon the grass.] + +"Shall I sing thee a song, Eurydice--the song thou hast sown in my +heart?" + +"Yes, sing me that song," she answered. + +So he struck the chords of his lyre and sang her the song that was +born of her beauty. One by one the wild creatures stole back to the +forest, for that song was not for them, and they two were left alone +beneath the spreading boughs of the beech-tree. As he sang, Eurydice +crept closer to him, till her head rested on his knee and her long +black hair fell in a cloud about his feet. As she drew nearer his +voice grew lower, till it became but a whisper in her ear. Then he +laid his lyre on the ground beside him and put his arms about her, and +their hearts spoke to each other in the tongue that knows not sound +nor words. + +So it came to pass that Orpheus returned no more to dwell with Cheiron +and his companions in the hollow cave below Pelion, but lived with +Eurydice, his wife, in her cave in the heart of the forest. But he +never forgot his boyhood's happy days, nor all that Cheiron had done +for him. He would come often to see him and take counsel with him, and +sing to the lads his magic song. For a few short years he lived a life +the gods might envy, till the dark days came, when not even music +could bring comfort to his heart. For one day, as he roamed with +Eurydice through the dark forest, it chanced that she unwittingly trod +upon a snake, and the creature turned upon her and pierced her white +foot with its venomous fang. Like liquid fire the poison ran through +her veins, and she lay faint and dying in his arms. + +"O Eurydice," he cried, "Eurydice, open thine eyes and come back to +me!" + +For a moment the agony of his voice awoke her to life. + +"Orpheus," she said, "beloved, this side of the river of death we can +dwell together no more. But love, my dear one, is stronger than death, +and some day our love shall prevail, never again to be conquered." + +When she had spoken her head sank down upon his breast, and her spirit +fled away, to return no more. So he bore the fair image of his wife in +his arms, and laid her in the depths of the cave that had been their +home. Above her head he placed a great pine torch, and all the long +night watches he sat with his arms about her and his cheek against her +cheek; and his heart groaned within him with a grief too great for +words. Ere the day dawned he kissed for the last time the lips that +could speak to him never again, and laid back her head on a pillow of +leaves and moss. Then he pulled down the earth and stones about the +mouth of the cave, so that no one could find the opening, and left for +evermore the home he had loved so well. Onward he walked in the grey +light of dawn, little caring where he went, and struck the chords of +his lyre to tell all the earth of his grief. The trees and the flowers +bowed down their heads as they listened, the clouds of heaven dropped +tears upon the ground, and the whole world mourned with him for the +death of Eurydice his wife. + +"Oh, sleep no more, ye woods and forests!" he sang, "sleep no more, +but toss your arms in the sighing wind, and bow your heads beneath the +sky that weeps with me. For Eurydice is dead. She is dead. No more +shall her white feet glance through the grass, nor the field-flowers +shine in her hair. But, like last year's snow, she is melted away, and +my heart is desolate without her. Oh! why may the dried grass grow +green again, but my love must be dead for ever? O ye woods and +forests, sleep no more, but awake and mourn with me. For Eurydice is +dead; she is dead, dead, dead!" + +So he wandered, making his moan and wringing the hearts of all who +heard him, with the sorrow of his singing. And when he could find no +comfort upon earth he bethought him of the words of his wife: + +"This side of the river of death we can dwell together no more. But +love, my dear one, is stronger than death, and some day our love shall +prevail, never again to be conquered." + +He pondered the words in his heart, and wondered what she might mean. + +"If love is stronger than death," he thought, "then my love can win +her back. If I can charm the hearts of all living things with the +magic of my song, I may charm, too; the souls of the dead and of their +pitiless king, so that he shall give me back Eurydice, my wife. I will +go down to the dark halls of Hades, and bring her up to the fair earth +once more." + +When hope was thus born anew in his heart he grew brave for any +venture, and pressed forward on his way till he came to the place men +called the mouth of Hades. Nothing daunted by the tales of horror they +told him, he entered the fearsome cave, which led deep down into the +bowels of the earth, where noisome vapours choked the breath in his +throat, and dark forms crouched in his path and fled shrieking before +him, till at last he stood by the shores of the ninefold Styx, that +winds about the realms of the dead. Then he shouted aloud to Charon, +the ferryman, to row him across in his boat. When the old man heard +his voice, he stopped midway across the stream. + +"Who is it that calls me in the voice of the living?" he asked. + +"It is Orpheus," he answered. "I am come to fetch back Eurydice, my +wife." + +But the old man laughed, and his laugh cut the heart of Orpheus like a +knife. + +"O beardless innocent," he said, "who gave thee power over life and +death? I tell thee that many have stood by the shores of this stream +and entreated me to take them across, that they might bring their dear +ones back with them. But no living soul shall sit in my boat, nor +shall the dead, who have sat in it once, ever return to sit in it +again. Go back to the earth, young man, and when thy time has come, +thou too shalt sit in my boat, never fear." + +"That time has come, Charon," he said, "and I shall sit in thy boat +this day." + +Raising his lyre, he struck the chords, and his love taught him the +tune and the words to sing. Steadfastly he gazed at Charon, and the +magic of his singing drew the old man towards him as surely as though +the rope of the boat were in his hands. Without ceasing his song, he +took his place in the stern, and in time to the music Charon dipped +his oars in the stream, so that the boat swung over the river as it +had never swung before. As it stranded in the shallow water, Orpheus +leaped lightly to shore. + +"Farewell for the present, Charon," he cried; "we shall meet again ere +long." + +He hastened on his way, playing and singing his magic song. Resting on +his pole, the old man looked after him with wonder in his heart, and +shaded his eyes with his hand. For a ray of the sun seemed to shine +for a moment in that cold grey land as Orpheus passed by. The pale +flowers of hell tossed their heads to and fro, as though the west wind +played through their leaves, and their colour and their scent came +back to them once more. With a sigh, Charon breathed in the perfume +from the air, and tossed back the grey locks from his brow and +straightened his drooping shoulders. + +"It is long since I smelt the fresh smell of the earth," he muttered. +"Who is this young god, who can bring light to the darkness and life +to the realms of the dead?" + +So till Orpheus passed out of sight and the sound of his singing grew +faint in the distance Charon stood looking after him, and then with a +sigh he sat down in his boat and bent to his oars once more. + +And Orpheus went on his way, with hope beating high in his heart, till +he came to the portals of the palace of Death. On the threshold lay +Cerberus, the three-headed hound of hell, who night and day kept watch +beside the gate to see that no one passed in save those who had died +upon earth, and that those who had passed him once should pass him +never again. When he heard Orpheus coming, he sprang to his feet and +snarled and growled and bared his sharp white fangs; but as the +strains of music grew clearer he sank silent to the ground, and +stretched his three great heads between his paws. Orpheus, as he +passed by, bent down and stroked him, and the fierce beast licked his +hands. So did he enter into the gates of Death, and passed through the +shadowy halls, till he stood before the throne of Pluto, the king. A +dim and awful form did he sit, wrapped about in darkness and mist, and +on his right hand sat Persephone, his wife, whom he stole from the +meadows of Sicily. When he saw Orpheus his eyes gleamed like the gleam +of cold steel, and he stretched forth his gaunt right arm towards him. + +"What dost thou here, Orpheus?" he asked. + +"I am come to ask thee a boon, O king," he answered. + +"There be many that ask me a boon," said Pluto, "but none that receive +it." + +"Yet none have stood before thee in the flesh, as I do, O king, to ask +their boon." + +"Because thou hast trespassed unlawfully on my domain, dost thou think +I will grant thee thy boon?" + +"Nay; but because my grief is so great that I have dared what none +have dared before me, I pray thee to hear me." + +Without waiting for an answer, he struck his lyre and sang to them the +story of his life, and of how he had loved and lost Eurydice. The eyes +of the pale queen brightened when she heard him, and the colour came +back to her cheeks, as the song brought back to her mind the days of +her girlhood and the sunlit meadows of Sicily. Then a great pity +filled her heart for Eurydice, who had left the green earth for ever, +and might not return, as she herself did, in the spring-time, living +only the dark winter months below. As Orpheus ceased his song she laid +her hand upon her husband's. + +"My lord," she said, "grant his boon, I pray thee. He is brave and +true-hearted, and he sings as no man has ever sung before." + +But the stern king sat with his head upon his hand and eyes cast down, +deep in thought. At length he spoke, and his voice was soft and kind. + +"Orpheus," he said, "thou hast touched my heart with thy singing. Yet +it lies not with me to grant thee thy boon." + +"But if the queen, thy wife, may return to the earth in the +spring-time, may not Eurydice, too, come back at thy command?" asked +Orpheus. + +"The ways of the gods are not the ways of mortals, Orpheus; they walk +by paths you may not tread. Yet, though I have no power to give thee +back Eurydice, thou mayest win her thyself if thou hast the strength." + +"How may that be?" cried Orpheus. "For the sake of Eurydice I have +strength for any venture." + +"No strength of the flesh can win her, Orpheus, but the strength of a +faith unfaltering. I will send for her, and when thou seest her stand +within the hall, holding out her hands towards thee, thou must harden +thy heart, and turn and flee before her by the way thou camest. For +the love of thee she will follow, and she will entreat thee to look at +her and give her thy hand over the stony way. But thou must neither +look at her nor speak to her. One look, one word, will be thine +undoing, and she must vanish from thine eyes for ever. The spell of +thy song still rests upon the guardians of my kingdom, and they will +let thee and thy wife pass by. But think not by word nor deed to help +her. Alone she passed from life to death, and alone she must pass back +from death to life. Her love and thy faith can be the only bond +between you. Hast thou the strength for this?" + +"My lord," cried Orpheus, "'tis but a small thing to ask of a love +like mine." + +"It will be harder than thou thinkest," the king replied. +"Nevertheless, I will call Eurydice." + +He signed to a messenger to fetch her. In a few moments he returned, +and behind him came Eurydice from the garden of Death. The dank dew +hung heavy about her, and she walked with her eyes upon the ground, +while her long black hair hid the paleness of her face. Thus did she +come into the centre of the hall, and, not speaking or moving, Orpheus +gazed upon her till she raised her eyes and saw him. With a cry she +sprang towards him. + +"Orpheus!" she said. + +But, remembering the words of the king, he turned and fled before her +through the misty halls and out by the great gate, where Cerberus lay +tamed with his heads between his paws. And he tried to shut his ears +to her pleading as they sped across the plain, but every word that she +said cut his heart like a stab, and more than once he almost turned to +answer her, so piteous was her cry. + +"Oh, Orpheus, what have I done? Why dost thou flee from me? Oh, give +me one word, one look, to say thou lov'st me still." + +But he remained firm in his resolve, and sat himself in Charon's +boat, and steeled his heart, whilst she sat beside him, but could not +touch him. For he was a living soul, and she was a shade, and might +not touch him if she would. But still she pleaded with him. + +[Illustration: "Orpheus," she cried, in her despair, "thy hand."] + +"O Orpheus, my heart is starving for one look, one word. I know thou +lovest me, but oh! to see thine eyes tell me so and hear thy lips say +it." + +He longed to turn and clasp her in his arms, and tell her how he loved +her better than life. But still he refrained, and hugged his lyre +close to his breast in his agony; and as soon as the boat touched the +shore he leapt out and hastened up the steep, dark path, whilst the +sweat stood out in drops upon his brow, so hard was the way and so +stifling the air. Behind him followed Eurydice, and if the way was +hard for him, for her it was ten times harder. She had no strength for +words, and only by her sobs did Orpheus know she was following still. +So they went on, till at length the air grew pure and fresh, and the +daylight shone before them at the mouth of the cave. With eager steps +Orpheus pressed forward, longing for the moment when he might clasp +his wife in his arms and speak to her once more. But as the way grew +easier for him, it grew harder for Eurydice; since no one may pass +from death to life without sore travail and pain. So she struggled and +stumbled after him, and her heart gave way within her as she felt she +could follow no farther. + +"Orpheus!" she cried in her despair, "thy hand." + +Ere reason could restrain him, his heart had answered her sudden cry, +and he turned and held out his arms to help her. All too late he knew +his folly. For even as he was about to hold her she slipped away, and +as smoke is borne away on the wings of the wind, so was she borne +away, helpless and lifeless, to the realms of the dead, and her voice +floated back like the echo of a dream, + +"Farewell, Orpheus. Alas! Alas! farewell!" + +So for the second time did he lose Eurydice; and if his grief was +great before, it was ten times greater now. For as the cup of joy had +touched his lips it had slipped from his hand and broken, and he knew +that the chance the gods had given him once they would give him never +again, but that all his life long he must dwell in loneliness without +Eurydice his wife. Blindly he went forward with his lyre beneath his +arm. The strings hung broken and lifeless, for the rocks and thorns +had torn them as he passed on his way up from Hades. But he heeded not +nor made any effort to mend them, for the strings of his heart hung +broken too, and the music in his soul was dead. In black despair he +wandered on, and the sunshine to his eyes was darkness, and the fair +forms of earth were sadder than the phantoms of Hades had seemed to +him while hope still beat in his breast. As a colt that has wandered +far by unknown paths returns at last surely to his homestead, so did +his feet carry him back to Pelion and the dear home of his boyhood. +Not till he stood in the path which led up to the cave did he know +where he had come; but when he saw the mouth of the cave before him +his eyes were opened once more, and a faint joy stole into his heart +as he went on and sat down on a stone outside. All was silent and +deserted, and he sat for awhile alone with his own sad thoughts, till +he felt a touch upon his shoulder, and looked up into the face of +Cheiron standing beside him. + +"O my master!" he cried. + +"My son, thou hast suffered," said Cheiron. + +"I have been down into Hades, Cheiron," he answered. + +"My child," said Cheiron, "I know it all." + +He gazed upon him, his great mild eyes full of pity, and Orpheus gazed +back at him, and knew that he understood, though how he had learnt his +tale he could not tell. His heart drew comfort from the sympathy that +understood without words, and was softened as the parched earth is +softened by rain, so that he took Cheiron's hands between his, and +bowed his head upon them, and wept. + +Thus it came to pass that he returned to his boyhood's home, and dwelt +once more with Cheiron and his lads beneath the shade of snow-capped +Pelion. In time the bitterness of his grief was purged away, and he +remembered Eurydice as something bright and fair that had been woven +into the web of his life while yet it was young, and which could never +be taken away. As he listened again to the old songs which Cheiron had +sung to him and his comrades when they were lads, the fire and the +eagerness of his youth were born once more within him. When he saw the +elder ones go forth into the world and little lads brought up to take +their place with Cheiron, he felt how life stands ever beckoning and +calling to those in whose veins the blood of gods and heroes runs, and +they go forth to rule and to serve, to fight and to labour, in answer +to the call which the foolish do not hear. So one morning he took his +lyre, which for many a long day had lain silent, and putting fresh +strings for the ones that were broken, he passed his fingers lovingly +over them as of old. And the spirit of music sprang to life once more +in his heart, as the flowers spring to life when the winter is past, +so that once again he could charm every living thing by the magic of +his song. + +When Cheiron knew that his power had come back to him he was glad. + +"Orpheus," he said, "thou hast conquered. A weaker man than thou art +would have lain crushed beneath the foot of adversity. But those who +bravely rise again are stronger than before." + +"Master," he said, "when I saw the broken strings of my lyre and felt +my voice choked within me, I said, 'With the breaking of this string +the music dies and becomes a voiceless echo of the past, just as now +Eurydice is a shade in the shadowy land while her body is dust upon +earth,' and lo! ere the strings were mended or the voice grew strong +again, the soul of song lived once more in my heart, as on the day +when first my mother Calliope breathed her spirit upon me. If music +may live without sound or words, may not the soul live too without +bones and flesh? This is a mystery, and I must seek the wide world for +an answer." + +And Cheiron smiled upon him. + +"It is good to seek," said he, "though thou find no answer in the +end." + +"Yet will I find an answer," said Orpheus. + +So when the call of Jason came soon after, for him to sail with the +heroes in the good ship _Argo_ for the finding of the Golden Fleece, +and to be their minstrel on the stormy seas, he went down right gladly +to Iolchos. At the sound of his song the gallant ship leapt over the +stones and into the sea like a charger ready for battle, though before +she had been too heavy to move. So he sailed with the heroes on their +perilous venture, filling their hearts with courage and hope, and took +them safely through many a danger by the magic of his song. But though +many had set out, there were few that returned, and he saw the wreck +of many a promising life on that terrible voyage, but found no answer +to his quest. He bowed his head in reverence to the memory of those +who, for the sake of adventure and honour and a noble name, had poured +forth their lives like water on a thirsty soil, knowing full well when +they set forth that the danger would be for all, but the prize and the +dear home-coming for few. + +So, as soon as might be, he set forth again to wander the wide world +alone with his lyre. Some say he went to Egypt, others say to Crete, +but wherever he went he found at last the answer to his quest. For he +found the great god Dionysos, the god of many names--Bromios, Bacchos, +Zagreus--who fills men's minds with inspiration and divine madness, so +that they become one with him and with the life that lives for ever +behind the forms of things that die. He ate of the flesh of the mystic +bull, which is the god himself, and to the sound of his lyre the +Mænads danced over the mountains and through untrodden woods, and held +to their breasts young lions, and cubs of the untamed wolf. Far away +from towns and cities, where custom and language raise barriers +between man and man, on the breast of the untouched earth they danced +their mystic dance, and became one with Bacchos and with all things +that have life in the present, or have lived in the past. There +Orpheus found Eurydice again in the communion of soul with soul, and +learnt what she had meant when she said, "Some day our love shall +prevail, never again to be conquered." So it came to pass that he +became the priest of Bacchos, the mystic god, who is one with Life and +Love. And he wrote upon tablets the rule of life, by which, through +purity and initiation, men may become one with the god, and when they +have been purified by birth and re-birth in many diverse forms, they +may win, because they are one with him, the immortal life that +changeth not, like the life of the stars in heaven. + +The tale goes of Orpheus that at last he came to Thrace and the wild +mountain lands that lie to the north of Greece. There he tamed the +fierce hill tribes with the magic of his song, and lived a life of +abstinence and purity and ecstasy of the soul. But the followers of +Dionysos who dwelt in those parts looked on him askance; for whereas +they worshipped the god with shedding of blood and rending of goats, +in the madness that is born of wine, the ecstasy of his worship was +born of music and beauty, and he would have no part nor lot in their +wild revels. And because there is no hate that is greater than the +hate of those who worship one god in divers way, there came a day when +the mad frenzy of the Mænads was turned against Orpheus himself. As he +sat looking forth on the sunrise and singing as he touched his lyre, +the raving band came up behind him, full of madness and of wine. And +they tore him limb from limb in their frenzy, as they had torn the +wild goats before, and cast his head into the Hebrus, thinking to +silence his singing for ever. But his head floated on the waves of +the eddying stream, fair and fresh as in life, singing as it floated +its magic enchanting song. Gently the river bore it along and down to +the sea, and the blue sea waves kissed it and passed it from one to +the other, till at last they cast it up, still singing, on the shores +of the Lesbian Isle. There the Muses came and buried it, and made of +its tomb a sacred shrine, where, for many a long year, men came from +far and wide to worship and consult the oracle. About that shrine the +nightingales sang more sweetly than in any other spot on earth, for +they learnt their song from the lips of Orpheus himself. And men bound +themselves in a holy brotherhood which they called by his name, and +lived by the rules he had written on his tablets. Some of those who +pretended to follow him were charlatans and rogues, and brought +dishonour and ridicule upon his name, while others kept the letter +without the spirit of his law; but among them were those of a pure +and blameless life, who kept his doctrines, and handed them down +from generation to generation, till in time they became the +foundation-stones of the great philosophies of Pythagoras and Plato. + +Thus did Orpheus live and die, and pointed out to men the path to +immortality by purity and abstinence and ecstasy of the soul. There +were many of old who hated his doctrine, and many who hate it now; +and, indeed, it is not one by which every man can live. But there are +those to whom it brings peace and joy, though they call it by other +names than his; and these are the Bacchoi, the initiated, who have +seen the inward light, and their souls are at peace. + + + + +The Flight of Arethusa + + +Many, many hundred years ago a small band of colonists set sail from +Corinth to found for themselves a new home and a new city in the +far-away west. With a song upon their lips, the sailors bent to their +oars. + +"Heave ho! Heave ho!" they sang, "for the three-cornered isle of the +west! Heave ho! for the fountain that fails not, and the whispering +willow-trees! Heave ho! for the waters that are wedded with the waters +of our own native land!" + +Then, as the breeze filled their sails, they pulled in their oars, and +looked back for the last time at the home they were leaving for ever. +Proudly between two seas did the rock of Corinth raise her head, +encircled with a diadem of walls and towers. With tears in their eyes +they watched her sink, and soon all around them was nothing but the +waste of the grey sea waves. Thus did they leave the old land for the +new with joy and sorrow, hope and fear in their hearts, and sailed +away to the west, to the land of their dreams, the three-cornered isle +of which the oracle had spoken. For when Archias, their leader, had +consulted the priestess at Delphi, she had answered, + +"To Trinacria the god bids thee go, the three-cornered isle of the +west. There on Ortygia, the sacred islet, shalt thou build thee a +home, by the side of the fountain that fails not, Arethusa, whose +waters are wedded with the waters of thine own native land." + +So, in obedience to her words, Archias set sail with his little band. +And they found Ortygia and the spring Arethusa in the shade of the +whispering willows. There they planted the seed of that city, which +grew to be the greatest in all Sicily and the mistress of the +Mediterranean--Syracuse, proud Corinth's prouder daughter. For her +sake many a battle has been fought and many a weary war been waged; +for through long centuries men knew that whoever held the keys of +Syracuse held the keys of power in their hands. + +But what did the priestess mean when she bade Archias go to the isle +whose waters were wedded with the waters of his own native land? And +how came it that when he and his band reached Sicily they found there +the flowers and the fruit of the home they had left, and streams that +ran in and out of the limestone rocks like the streams of the +Peloponnese? I will tell you. + +Arethusa, around whose spring in Ortygia the whispering willows bent, +was once a nymph, who dwelt in the Arcadian woodlands and followed +Artemis the maiden huntress, over hill and over dale. Artemis loved +her above all the other nymphs who were her handmaids, and as a sign +of her favour she would let her carry her bow and her quiver full of +darts. On many a hot summer's day did Arethusa and her companions +bathe with their mistress in the cool deep mountain pools. Above their +heads the great oaks of the forest spread their branches, and the +grass beneath their feet was fresh and green. So long as they stayed +by the side of their mistress the nymphs were safe from harm, for no +god or goddess in all the land was so powerful as Artemis, and she +knew how to protect her own. + +So it came to pass that, because Arethusa had never known what fear +was, she grew to think that there was no such thing, and one day she +left her mistress and her comrades, and wandered forth alone through +the woods. Her heart was gay and light, and she sang as she went. In +the gloom of the forest she was like a ray of the sun, and on the bare +hill-sides she was like a sparkling stream that leaves green grass and +flowers wherever it passes. But she thought nothing of her beauty, nor +feared any harm because of it. As soon would lily cease from growing, +because it feared to be plucked for the sake of its fair sweet flower. +So she wandered on happy and light-hearted on that bright summer's +day. + +At last she came to a broad river that barred her path. High up above +her head the water fell leaping and roaring down the face of the +rocks, while below the swift current hurried along through swirling +eddies and foam. When she saw that she could go no farther, she sat +down on a rock by the edge of a stream, and let the cool water play +over her feet; then she bent down to fill her hand and drink. As she +did so her heart stopped beating, and her limbs grew stiff and numb, +and for the first time in her life she knew what fear was. For out of +the waters before her there rose up what seemed a great billow of foam +and spray, which stretched out a long arm towards her, and from the +tips of five great fingers the drops fell cold upon her shoulders. +With a cry, she drew herself together, and turned and fled; but she +had seen the form of the river-god grow clear in the billow, with the +water flowing down from his damp hair and beard, and the flash of his +eyes like the flash of lightning in the midst of the foam. It was +Alpheus, the king of all the rivers of Peloponnese. He had seen +Arethusa alone on the bank, and for love of her beauty he had risen +from the depths of the stream and stretched out his arms to gather her +to himself, and draw her down beneath the waves, to live with him and +be his for ever. But she had been too quick for him, and now she fled +before him as a deer flees before the hounds, whilst the fear that had +numbed her at first now lent wings to her feet. Over hill and over +dale she fled, swift as the rushing wind. Her bright locks flew out +behind her, and as she leapt from rock to rock her white robes gleamed +like the gleam of sunlit waters. Close behind her came Alpheus. The +deafening roar of his flood sounded like thunder in her ears, and his +misty breath blew cold upon her cheek. On and on she fled, with the +swiftness and strength of despair, till at last she could go no +farther; for before her stretched the blue waste of the cruel Ionian, +and the spray of the waves stung her face, while behind her the floods +of Alpheus rushed thundering down. Then she stretched forth her hands, +and cried out to the Maid of the Sea, + +"O Dictynna, Dictynna, have mercy! In the name of great Artemis, whom +thou lovest as I do, help me now." + +The Maid of the Sea heard her cry, and wrapped her about in a mist, +and her body and her limbs were unloosed and melted away, till she +became a spring of fresh, pure water that bubbled and danced over the +stones of the shore, and dived at last into the waves of the sea. But +behind her the flood of Alpheus still rushed leaping and foaming. He +had followed her over mountain and valley, and he followed her now +through the ocean. Down through the white waves they dived into the +depths of the sea, and passed like silvery currents of light through +the green sleeping waters, on and on, through forests of seaweed, and +over shell-strewn rocks, till they were stopped at last in their +flight by the roots of the three-cornered isle. There, through the +fissures and clefts, they forced their way up once more to the +sunlight, and side by side they leapt down from the rocks and the +crags--down towards the sea once again. But Arethusa fled no longer in +terror, and her fear of Alpheus was gone; for he pursued her no more +in a thundering, boisterous flood. Now he held out his strong white +arms, and called to her gently and low--as gently as the waves call in +summer as they dance to the shore. + +"Arethusa, Arethusa, I love thee. Come, join thy waters with mine." + +But she leapt away from him with a happy, mischievous laugh, and +tossed back the spray from her hair, so that it fell on his cheek like +a shower of kisses. Thus she leapt laughing, down over the rocks and +crags towards the sea, knowing full well that he played with her, and +that any moment he could make her his own. At last, as she hovered for +a moment on the brink of the cliff, he caught her in his strong +white arms, and together they dived once more into the salt sea waves, +so that their waters were mingled, and for evermore they were one. And +Arethusa showed her bright head again in the spring beneath the +willows of Ortygia, which is called by her name to this day. From the +time of her flight that spring never failed or grew dry, for from the +snows of the mountains Alpheus flowed always to meet her, bringing +coolness and plenty to the waters he loved. Men said, moreover, that +if a cup were put into the stream of Alpheus in the Peloponnese it +would find its way at last to the spring in Ortygia--which showed that +the waters of Arethusa and Alpheus were wedded and blended together, +so that they lived apart no more. + +[Illustration: On and on she fled with the swiftness and strength of +despair.] + +And that was the reason why Archias found in Sicily the flowers and +the fruit of the land he had left; for Alpheus had borne their seeds +in his stream from Peloponnese, and scattered them right and left as +he sprang through the rocks, that the winds of heaven might sow them +where they willed. To this day you will find in Sicily the olive and +the vine, and the blushing flower of the almond, and the narcissus +with its crown of gold, as you find them in Peloponnese; for is not +the water that feeds their meadows one stream that joins two lands? +And on the first coins of Syracuse you will find the head of the nymph +Arethusa, with the fish swimming round about; for was it not by the +side of her spring that the first stones of the city were laid, on the +sacred isle of Ortygia, round which the sea-fish swam? + +Thus did Arethusa flee in terror from Alpheus, to be wedded to him at +last in a land across the sea. + + + + +The Winning of Atalanta + + +Once upon a time there ruled in Arcadian Tegea a proud-hearted king +named Schoenus. A tamer of horses was he, and a man mighty in the +hunt and in battle. Above every other thing he loved danger and sport +and all kinds of manly exercise. Indeed, these things were the passion +of his life, and he despised all womenkind because they could take no +part nor lot in them. And he wedded Clymene, a fair princess of a +royal house, because he wished to raise up noble sons in his halls, +who should ride and hunt with him, and carry on his name when he was +dead. On his wedding-day he swore a great oath, and called upon all +the gods to witness it. + +"Never," he swore in his pride, "shall a maid child live in my halls. +If a maid is born to me, she shall die ere her eyes see the light, and +the honour of my house shall rest upon my sons alone." + +When a man swears an oath in his pride, he repents full oft in +humility, and so it fell out now. For many a long year no child was +born to him, and when at last he had hopes of an heir, the babe that +was born was a maid. When he saw the child his heart was cut in two, +and the pride of a father and the pride of his oath did battle within +him for victory. The pride of his oath conquered, for he was afraid to +break his word in the face of all his people. He hardened his heart, +though he had held the babe in his arms, and its little hand with a +birthmark above the wrist had closed about his finger trustfully, and +gave orders that the child should be cast out upon the mountains to +die of hunger and cold. So the babe was given to a servant, who bore +it forth and left it on the slope of bleak Parthenius. But Fate made a +mock of Schoenus, of his pride and of his oath, for no other child, +either man or maid, was born to him in his halls. All too late he +repented of his folly, when he saw his hearth desolate and no children +round his board, and knew that not only his name, but his race, was +like to die with him, because of the rash oath which he had sworn. + +Yet there was one who had pity on the babe, and whose heart was kinder +than the heart of its own sire. When Artemis, the maiden goddess, saw +the child cast forth to die, she was filled with anger against +Schoenus, and swore that it should live. For it was a fair child, +and a maid after her own heart, and no young life ever called to her +in vain for mercy. Wherefore she sent a she-bear to the place where +the child lay, and softened the heart of the beast, so that she lifted +it gently in her mouth and bore it to the cave where her own cubs lay +hid. There she suckled it with her own young ones, and tended it +night and day, till it grew strong and could walk, and the cave rang +with its laughter as it played and gambolled with the young bears. +When Artemis knew that the child was old enough to live without its +foster-mother, she sent her nymphs to fetch it away, and when they +bore it to her she was well pleased to find it fair and strong. + +"Her name shall be Atalanta," she said to them. "She shall dwell on +the mountains and in the woods of Arcadia, and be one of my band with +you. A mighty huntress shall she be, and the swiftest of all mortals +upon earth; and in time she shall return to her own folk and bring joy +and sorrow to their hearts." + +Thus it came to pass that Atalanta lived with the nymphs in the +woodlands of Arcadia. They taught her to run and to hunt, and to shoot +with bow and arrows, till soon the day came when she could do these +things as well as any of their band. For the blood of her father ran +hot in her veins; and not more easily does a young bird learn to fly +than Atalanta learnt to love all manner of sport. So she came to +womanhood in the heart of the hills, and as her form grew in height +and strength, it grew too in beauty and grace. The light of the +sunbeam lay hid in her hair, and the blue of the sky in her eyes, and +all the rivers of Arcadia bathed her limbs and made them fresh and +white. But she thought little of her beauty, or the power it might +have over the hearts of men, for all her delight was in the hunt, and +to follow Artemis, her mistress, over hill and over dale. Artemis +loved her, and delighted to do her honour; and when the land of +Calydon cried to her for mercy, because of the boar she had sent to +ravage it in her wrath, she decreed that none but Atalanta should have +the glory of that hunt. The tale of how she came to Calydon, and of +how the boar was slain at last through her, I have told you before; +and of how death came to Meleager, because he loved her, and would not +let any man insult her while he stood idly by. By the fame of that +hunt her name was carried far and wide through Hellas, so that when +she came to the funeral games of Pelias there was no need to ask who +she was. She ran in the foot race against the swiftest in the land, +and won the prize so easily that when she reached the goal the first +man had scarce passed the turning-point, though he was no sluggard to +make a mock of. When the games were over, she went back to Arcadia +without a tear or a sigh, but her face and her memory lived in the +heart of many a man whose very name she had not known; and when +presently the news went abroad that she would wed the man who could +win her, they flocked from far and wide, because they loved her better +than life; for they knew that the unsuccessful went forth to certain +death. + +The tale of how Atalanta went back to her own folk, and of how she was +wooed and won, is as follows: + +One day, when King Schoenus held a great hunt in the forest on the +edge of his domain, it chanced that Atalanta had come to those parts; +and when she heard the blare of the bugles and the barking of the +hounds, her heart leapt with joy. As a dog, when he hears the voice of +his master, pricks up his ears and runs swiftly to meet him, so did +Atalanta run swiftly through the woods when she heard the sound of the +bugles. Full often had she joined in a hunt on the uplands of +Arcadia, and run with the hounds; and when the hunt was over she had +fled back into the forest, away from those who had been fain for her +to stay. For she loved the hunt, but not the hunters; but, because she +was a mortal and born of a mortal race, she did not flee from their +eyes, as the wood-nymphs fled, but hunted with them for joy of the +hunt, and left them when it pleased her. So now she joined in the +chase as the stag broke loose from cover, and her white feet flashed +in the sunlight as she followed the hounds across the open moorland. +King Schoenus, when he saw her, was glad. + +"It is Atalanta, the maiden huntress," he cried. "See that she be +treated with due courtesy, for she is the only woman on earth who is +fit to look a man in the face." + +And he rode eagerly after her. But the best horse in all that company +was no match for Atalanta. Far ahead of them all she shot, like an +arrow from the bow, and when at last the stag turned at bay in a pool, +she was the first to reach him. When the rest had come up, and the +huntsman had slain the stag, the king turned to her. + +"Atalanta," he said, "the trophy of this chase is thine, and my +huntsman shall bear the head of the stag whithersoever thou shalt bid +him. In token of our esteem, I beg thee to accept this ring. When thou +lookest upon it, think kindly of an old man whose heart is lonely, and +who would fain have a daughter like thee." + +As he spoke he drew off a gold ring from his finger and held it +towards her; the tears stood in his eyes and his hand shook as he +looked on her fair young form, and remembered the babe he had cast out +on the mountains to die. If she had lived she would have been of an +age with Atalanta, and perchance as fair and as strong as she; and his +heart was bitter against himself for the folly of his oath. + +When Atalanta heard his words, she had a mind at first to refuse his +gift. Many a man before had offered her gifts, and she had refused +them every one; for she had no wish to be beholden to any man. But +when she saw the eyes of the old king dim with tears, and how his hand +shook as he held out the ring, her heart was softened, and yearned +with a strange yearning towards him. Coming forward, she knelt at his +feet and took the ring, and held his hand and kissed it. + +"May the gods grant the prayer of thy heart, sire," she said, "and +give thee a daughter like unto me, but fairer and more wise than I!" + +As he looked down on the hand that held his own the old king trembled +more violently than before, for above the wrist was a birthmark like +the birthmark above the wrist of the babe he had cast forth to die. +And he knew that he made no mistake, for that mark had lived in his +mind as though it had been branded with red-hot steel. + +"Atalanta," he said, "the gods have heard thy prayer. This is not the +first time thy fingers have closed about mine." + +"What meanest thou, sire?" she asked. + +"As many years ago as the span of thy young life," he said, "I held in +my arms a new-born babe, the child that the gods had given me, and its +little hand with a birthmark above the wrist closed about my finger +trustfully. But because of my foolish pride I hardened my heart. I +cast away the gift of the gods and sent the child to die upon the +mountains. But the birthmark on its wrist was branded on my brain so +that I could not forget it. Never till this day have I seen that mark +again, and now I see it on thy wrist, my child." + +He bowed his head as he spoke, and the tears from his eyes fell upon +her hand, which lay in his as she knelt before him. + +"Oh, my father!" she cried, and bent forward and kissed his hand. + +When he found that she did not turn from him, though she knew what he +had done, he was more deeply moved than before. + +"Atalanta," he said, "when I cast thee forth to die, I gave back to +the gods the life they had given me, and now I have no right to claim +it again. Yet would thy presence be as sunshine in my halls if thou +wert to come back to me, my child." + +Thus did the call come to Atalanta to return to her own folk, and the +choice lay before her. On the one side was her free life in the +forest, with Artemis and her nymphs, the hunt, the fresh air, and all +the things that she loved; on the other was life within the walls of a +city, and the need to bow her head to the customs and the ways of men. +Her heart misgave her when she thought of it. + +"My lord," she said, "will a young lion step into the cage of his own +free will, think you?" + +The old king bowed his head at her words. + +"Alas! what other answer could I look for?" he said. "I thank the gods +that they have shown me thy fair face this day. Perchance, when we +hunt again in these parts, thou wilt join us for love of the chase. +Till then, my child, farewell." + +[Illustration: "Oh, my father!" she cried] + +With trembling hands he raised her from her knees, and kissed her on +the forehead. Then he signed to his men to lead forward his horse, and +mounted and rode sadly home through the forest with his company. And +Atalanta shaded her eyes and stood watching them till they disappeared +from sight. When they had gone, she sighed, and turned and went upon +her way. But her eyes were blind and her ears were deaf to the sights +and sounds she loved so well, and that night she tossed restlessly +upon her couch of moss. For before her eyes was the figure of an old +man bowed with sorrow, and in her ear his voice pleaded, trembling +with longing and love. + +"Thy presence would be as sunshine in my halls if thou wert to come +back to me, my child." + +In the early dawn she rose up from her couch, and bathed in a stream +close by, and gathered up her shining hair in a coil about her head. +Then she put on her sandals and a fresh white tunic, slung her quiver +about her shoulders, and bow in hand went forth through the forest. +Looking neither to the right nor to the left, she went on her way till +she came to the white road that led to the city. Then she turned and +looked back at the forest. + +"Dear trees and woods," she said, "farewell, and ye nymphs that dwell +in the streams and dance on the green sward of the mountains. When I +have trodden the white road and gone up to the city, I can live with +you no more. As for thee, great Artemis, who saved me in the +beginning, I will be thy servant for ever, and dwell a maiden all my +days, and a lover of the hunt." + +She leant her head against a tree close by, and the tears stood in her +eyes. It seemed that the breeze bore her words on its wings, for she +heard a sigh from the forest, and the waters cried out to her, +"Atalanta, come back, come back!" + +But she closed her ears, and stepped out bravely on the white highway, +and went up into the city. The people as they saw her pass marvelled +greatly at her beauty, and whispered one to the other, "Surely it is +Atalanta, the king's daughter. What doth she here?" + +For the tale of how King Schoenus had found his child, and of how +she had refused to come home with him, had spread like wildfire +through the city; so that when they saw her, they knew full well who +she must be. She took no heed of them at all, but went straight +forward on her way till she came to the gate of the palace. The gate +stood open, and without knocking or calling she passed in, and went +across the echoing court and beneath the portico into the great hall, +as one who comes by right. When she had entered the hall, she stopped +and looked about her. At first all seemed silent and deserted, for the +folk had gone their several ways for the work of the day; but at +length she spied an old man sitting on a carved chair in one of the +alcoves between the pillars. It was the king, her father. He sat with +his head upon his hand and his eyes downcast upon the floor, and his +face was sad and full of longing, as of one who dreams sweet dreams +which he knows will not come true. Gently she drew near to him, and +thanked the gods who had timed her coming so that she should find him +alone. And she went and knelt at his feet. The old man gazed for a +moment in her face, as though he did not see her; then he started from +his chair and laid his hand upon her shoulder. + +"Atalanta!" he cried. + +"My father," she said, "I have come back to thee." + +Then he gathered her up in his arms. + +"Oh, my child, my child!" he said. "The gods are kind beyond my +desert." + +"Thy voice cried out to me in the night-time," she said, "and I could +not shut my heart to thy pleading. The call of the free earth was +strong, but the call of my blood was stronger." + +Thus did Atalanta come back to her own folk, and bring joy to the +heart of her father and the mother who had never held her in her arms. +A great feast was held in the palace in her honour, and through all +the city the people rejoiced because of her. For she was a fair +princess of whom any land might be proud, and her fame had spread +through the length and breadth of Hellas. Indeed, as soon as it was +known who she was, and how she had left the mountains to come and live +with her own kin, suitors flocked from far and wide to seek her hand +in marriage. But she treated them one and all with scorn, and vowed +that she would never wed. At first her father smiled upon her, and +looked on her refusal to wed as the sign of a noble nature, that was +not to be won for the asking of the first chance-comers. So he +gathered about him the noblest princes in the land in the hope that +among them all there would be one who could win her heart. But the +months passed by, and still she vowed that she would never wed. All +her delight was in running and hunting, and to ride by her father's +side. As for the young princes, she liked them full well for +companions in sport, but as soon as they spoke of love and marriage +she would turn her back upon them. At length the king grew anxious. + +"Surely, my child," he said, "among all these princes there is one +whom thou couldst love?" + +"I shall never love any man but thee, my father," she replied. + +"Yet all the hope of our race lies upon thee, Atalanta," he said. "If +thou wilt not wed, our race will die." + +"Our race died on the day on which thou didst cast me forth on the +mountains," she answered. "If I have lived, it is no thanks to thee or +to any of my people, but my life is hers who saved me on that day." + +"What meanest thou?" said the king. + +"When I left the forest and came back to thee I vowed a vow to +Artemis, who saved me in the beginning. I said, 'I will be thy servant +for ever, and dwell a maiden all my days and a lover of the hunt.' My +life belongs to her, and not to my race, not to any son of man." + +"We vow rash vows in ignorance, Atalanta," said the king, as he +remembered the oath he had sworn on his wedding-day, "and Fate makes a +mock of us, and turns our nay to yea." + +But Atalanta laughed at his words. + +"When Fate mocks at me," she said, "it will be time enough for me to +wed and turn my nay to yea." + +Nothing that he could say would persuade her to go back from her +resolve. But still he reasoned with her night and day, till at length +she grew so wearied of the matter that she bethought of a plan that +would rid her of all her suitors. + +"My father," she said, "I will wed any man who shall ask for my hand, +if he will fulfil one condition." + +"My child," cried her father, "I knew that in the end thou wouldst +listen to reason. Tell me thy condition, that I may spread it abroad +among those who are suing for thy hand." + +"Tell them," she said, "that I will wed the first man among them who +will run a race with me. If he win, I will be his bride, but if he +lose, he must die." + +The king's face fell when he heard her words. + +"Surely thou speakest in mockery, Atalanta," he said. "No man in all +the world can run as swiftly as thou canst, and they know it. Thou +wilt drive thy suitors from thee; or if any be foolhardy enough to run +with thee, they will run to a certain death." + +"No man will run to a certain death, my father," she answered. "When +they know that to sigh for me is to sigh for death, they will go back +to their own folk, and I shall be troubled with suitors no more." + +Herein she spoke in ignorance, and knew not the fatal power of her +beauty upon the hearts of men. And her father sighed at her words. Yet +he thought within himself, + +"Perchance there is more in her words than meets the ear. The deep +sea is easier to fathom than the mind of a woman. Either there is one +among her suitors whom she favours above the rest, and she will see to +it that he is the first to run with her, and will bridle her speed and +let him win; or else, Heaven knows, some god has put this whim in her +heart, and will send a champion we know not, who can run faster than +the fastest, and he will outspeed her and make her his bride. She will +never let men die because of her." + +But herein he too thought in ignorance, and knew not how his own pride +and stubbornness lived again in Atalanta, so that she would abide by +her word, though it brought grief to herself and death to others. So +he published abroad among the suitors the condition she had made. When +they heard it there was great consternation among them, and they +consulted together as to what they should do, and some sent a +deputation to her to find out the meaning of her words. + +"Lady," they asked, "when thou speakest of death thou speakest +perchance in parables. Those who run in the race with thee and are +outstripped must give up all hope of thee, and look upon thy face no +more. And this would be death indeed to them that love thee." + +But she laughed in their faces. + +"If you would hear parables," she said, "go to the oracle at Delphi. I +am no raving priestess to utter words that walk two ways at once. He +who courts death may race with me at daybreak, and at sunset he shall +drink the poison-cup without fail, and look neither on my face again +nor the face of any living thing. Have I spoken plainly now?" + +The next day there was great confusion in the halls of King +Schoenus. There was shouting and bustling, and attendants ran this +way and that. Chariots clattered through the gateway and drew up in +the court, and baggage was piled high behind the horses. And Atalanta +laughed aloud at the success of her scheme; for suitor after suitor +came and kissed her hand and bade her farewell. They loved her much, +but they loved life better, and were content to go home and find mates +who, though less fair, were less ferocious, and were like to look upon +their lords with eyes more lowly and obedient than Atalanta. + +That night the gathering about the board was scantier than it had been +for many a long day. Yet a few of the suitors remained, and seemed in +no haste to be gone. Day after day passed by, and each night Atalanta +said within herself, + +"To-morrow they will surely go. They dwell in distant towns, and they +are waiting for a favourable day for their journey." + +But favourable days came and went, and still they stayed in the halls +of King Schoenus. At last Atalanta could hide the dread in her heart +no longer. + +"How long will it be, my father," she asked, "ere we are troubled no +more with strangers in our halls?" + +"If thou wilt wed one of them, we shall be troubled with the rest no +more," he replied. + +"They know full well I can wed no man of them, because of the +condition I have made," she said. + +"They are waiting for thee to fulfil thy condition," said the king. + +Then Atalanta herself went and pleaded with them, + +"My friends," she said, "I pray you to be guided by me. The gods have +not fashioned me after the manner of womenkind, and I cannot give +myself nor my love to any man. Look upon me as one of yourselves, I +pray you, and think not to win me in marriage." + +But they replied, "Lady, thou hast given the condition of thy +marrying, and we are waiting to fulfil it." + +"But my condition means certain death," she cried. + +"Nothing in this life is certain," they said, "save death in the end. +If it come soon or late, what matter? For thy sake we are willing to +face it now." + +Thus was she forced to keep her word, and the lists were made ready +for the race, and the lots were cast among the suitors as to which of +them should be the first to run against her. In the early morning, +before the sun was strong, the race was run, and all the city crowded +to the course to watch it. The man ran well and bravely, but his speed +was as child's play to Atalanta. She put forth her strength like a +greyhound that is content to run for a while before the horses, but +when he scents a hare, can leave them far behind. Even so did Atalanta +run, and came in cool and fresh at the goal, whilst her rival ran in +hot and panting behind her. + +Thus did it come to pass that the first man drank the poison-cup +because of his love for Atalanta. With a smiling face did he drink it, +as a man drinks at a feast. + +"Farewell, lady," he said; "grieve not for me. With open eyes I chose +my fate. I ran for the sake of love and beauty, and I have won death. +Such is ever the lot of the nameless many. They fight for the glory +of the man whose name shall live. Good luck to my rival!" + +And now a time of darkness and mourning fell upon the land, and many a +day in the year the city was hung with black for the sake of some +noble suitor who had chosen death rather than life without Atalanta. +And Atalanta's heart was sore within her, because of the rash +condition she had made in her ignorance. When she would fain have +recalled her words it was too late, for the suitors bound her to her +promise. + +"Either give thyself of thine own free will to one of us, or else let +us take our chance of winning thee or death," they said. + +And so she was forced to run with them. For in her heart she knew that +even death was happier for a man than to win her without her love. + +Thus were the words of Artemis fulfilled when she said, "In time she +shall return to her own folk, and bring joy and sorrow to their +hearts." + +One day it chanced that a stranger came to the city on a morning that +a race was to be run. The night before he had slept in a village near +by, and the people had told him the tale of Atalanta, and how on the +morrow another suitor was to run to his death. But he scoffed at their +words. + +"No man would run to certain death," he said, "were the maid as fair +as Aphrodite." + +"Go and see for thyself," they replied. "Soon we shall hear that thou +too wilt run in the race." + +"Never," he said; "no woman can cheat my life from me." + +But they shook their heads unconvinced. + +"Many before thee have spoken likewise," said they, "and yet they have +run." + +"If I run, I will run to win," he answered. + +"Can a snail outstrip a deer?" they asked. + +"It might so chance," said he. + +"Thou art mad," they cried. + +"Better to be mad on earth than sane in Hades," he replied. + +But they shook their heads the more, and tapped wisely with their +fingers on their foreheads, to show that he was mad and spoke at +random. + +"Well, well," he said, with a laugh, "we shall see what we shall see." + +The next morning he set forth early for the city, and, mingling with +the crowd, he made his way to the racecourse, and found for himself a +place where he could watch the whole sight with ease. The race was +run, and ended as it always ended; and once again the city was hung +with black. But in the mind of the stranger an image remained which +had not been there before--the image of a maid whose white feet +flashed in the sunlight and her tunic swung to and fro as a flag +swings in the breeze. + +"Great Heracles!" he thought within himself, "to run shoulder to +shoulder with her for a moment, even in a race for death, might be +worth the while after all. I will make myself known at the palace, and +see what the gods will give me." + +For some days he lay hid in the city, till he thought the time was +ripe for him to go up to the palace of the king. Then he went for a +walk along the highway, and when he was covered with dust and grime, +he returned to the city and made his way at once to the palace. At the +door of the gateway he knocked, and the old porter came out to ask his +will. + +"I am come from a distant land," he said, "and to-morrow I would +journey yet further on my way. I pray thee to crave hospitality for +one night for me from the steward of this house, whoe'er he be. I am a +king's son, and worthy to sit at any man's table." + +The porter cast a doubtful eye on the travel-worn clothes of the +stranger. It seemed unlikely that a king's son would go on a distant +journey with no body-servant and no horse or baggage. Then he looked +in his clear blue eyes, which gazed back at him as innocent as a +child's, and he saw that for all his sorry raiment he was by no means +ill-favoured, but held himself well and proudly. So he opened the door +and led him across the court. + +"Well, well," he muttered in his beard, "great folk have strange whims +in these days. Our king must needs slay his daughter, because she is a +maid, and she must needs slay her suitors, because they are men. After +that this fellow may well be, as he says, a king's son, who, because +he has a palace and plenty, must needs tramp over the face of the +earth and beg his bread. Praise be to the gods who put lowly blood in +my veins and sense in my head, else had it been better for the gate to +keep itself than to have me for a guardian." + +Then he cast another look over his shoulder at the young man behind. + +"At any rate, for one night he can do no harm," he muttered. + +"What didst thou say, father?" asked the stranger. + +"I said that for one night thou couldst do no harm," replied the old +man. + +"On the contrary," said the stranger with a laugh, "in one night I +hope to do more good to this house than thou hast done in all thy +life." + +"The young have ever a good conceit of themselves," said the porter. +"Thou art not like to keep this gate, winter and summer, day and +night, for close on three-score years, as I have done, young man." + +"On the other hand," said the stranger, "thou art not like to marry +the king's daughter within the year, and have the city hung with red +instead of black in thine honour, as I am like to do." + +"Sir," said the old man, "I know my place too well----" + +"--and love thy life too much to aspire to the hand of the princess. +Is that not so?" + +"Mayhap," said the old man, and shut his mouth with a snap. To all +further remarks which the stranger made he answered with a grunt. He +took him into the palace and delivered him into the hands of the +steward. As he turned to go back to his post, the young man clapped +his hand upon his shoulder. + +"Good luck to thee and thy gate," he said. "When I come through with +the hand of the princess in mine, perchance thou wilt look upon me +with greater favour than now." + +"Be warned in time, young man," said the porter, "and tarry not over +long in this palace, but go forth on thy journey in the morning, as +thou hadst a mind to do in the beginning. Those who tarry too long are +apt to go through the gate with nought but a cake in their hand." + +This he said, meaning the cake which was put in the hands of the dead +for them to give to Cerberus, the watch-dog of Hades. + +"Fear not for that," said the stranger: "I had as lief go +empty-handed." + +Thereupon he turned to the steward, who welcomed him sadly to the +halls of King Schoenus. All strangers were looked upon askance in +those days, lest they came as suitors for the hand of Atalanta, and +wished to add to those who had run in the fatal race. When he heard +that the young man would depart on the morrow on his journey he was +glad, and gave him water to wash with and a change of raiment, and +showed him his place at the board, without so much as asking his name. +When Atalanta saw a stranger at the board her heart sank within her, +and she kept her eyes turned away, as though she had not seen him, for +she made sure that he too had come to run in the race with her. It +chanced that night that the company was scanty, and no man talked in +private to his neighbour, but the conversation leapt from one end of +the board to the other, as each one took his share in it and said his +say. The stranger, too, took his part with the rest of them, in nowise +abashed; and so shrewd were his words, and so full of wit, that soon +he had a smile upon the face of each one at the table. For many a long +day the talk had not been so merry nor the laughter so loud at the +table of King Schoenus. Atalanta, too, forgot her constraint, and +talked and laughed freely with the stranger; and he answered her back, +as though it had been man to man, and showed no more deference to her +than to the others of the company. + +When the meal was over, the king approached the stranger, and Atalanta +stood beside him. + +"Sir," said the king, "thy name and country are still hid from us, but +we are grateful for thy coming, and would be fain for thee to stay as +long as it shall please thee." + +"I thank thee, sire," said the stranger, "but I am bound by a strange +vow. I may not reveal my name, nor accept hospitality for more than +one night from any man, till I come to a house where none other than +the king's daughter shall promise me her hand in marriage. From the +tales I have heard in the neighbouring country, I have learnt that I +may not hope to end my vow beneath this roof--though indeed," he said, +turning to Atalanta, "I would fain press my suit if there were any +chance of success." + +But Atalanta threw back her head at his words. + +"Thou hast doubtless heard the condition," she said, "by the +fulfilment of which alone a man may win my hand." + +"Alas, sir!" said the king, "I would press no man to try his luck in +that venture." + +"Since that is so," said the stranger, "I will go forth once more upon +my journey at break of day, and see what luck the gods will give me. I +thank thee for thy kindly hospitality this night, and beg thee to +excuse me. I have travelled far, and would fain rest now, as I must go +a long distance ere I can rest again." + +Thereupon he took his leave of King Schoenus and his daughter. But +she, for all her pride, could not forget the man who seemed to bid her +farewell with so light a heart. He was well favoured, but it was not +because he was well favoured, or because he had a ready tongue, that +she thought on him. Indeed, when she asked herself why she should +remember one who by now had doubtless lost all memory of her, she +could find no answer. As she tossed on her couch with a troubled mind, +she determined that before he left the palace on the morrow she would +have some speech with him. + +"He thinks no more of me than of a stone upon the wayside," she said +within herself, "wherefore I can do him no wrong by letting him speak +with me again before he goes." + +It was her custom to rise early in the morning, before the rest of the +household was stirring, and to go forth alone into the woods; and it +was the lot of one of the slaves to rouse himself betimes to give her +food ere she went, so that when she appeared, as was her wont, he +thought nothing of it. The stranger had risen even earlier than she, +and the slave was waiting upon him. When Atalanta saw him, her heart +gave a sudden thrill, for she had not looked to see him so soon. + +"Good-morrow, sir," she said. "It is not often I have a companion when +I break my fast." + +Then she turned to the slave. + +"Thou mayest get thee back to thy bed," she said, "and sleep out thy +sleep in peace. I will see to the wants of our guest and speed him on +his way." + +The slave, nothing loth, departed. He was well used to strange +commands from his mistress; and, moreover, there was no need to invite +him twice to return to his couch. + +Thereupon Atalanta sat down at the board beside the stranger, and they +fell to with all the appetite of youth and health; and as they ate +they laughed and joked, and talked of strange lands they both had seen +and adventures that had befallen them. In the space of one half-hour +they were as good friends as though they had known each other all +their lives, and suitors who had sat at her father's board day after +day were much more strangers to Atalanta than this man, who had craved +but one night's hospitality. + +When they had finished their meal the stranger rose. + +"I must bid thee farewell, lady," he said. + +"Nay, not yet," she replied; "I will set thee on thy way, and show +thee a road through the forest that will bring thee to the city thou +seekest. I know every track and path as well as the wild deer know +them." + +He tried to dissuade her, but she would not listen, and led him out +from the palace by a side-gate, which she unbarred with her own hands. +Down through the sleeping streets they went, where the shadows of the +houses lay long upon the ground, and out across the open downs into +the shade of the forest. The dew gleamed like jewels on the leaves, as +here and there the slanting rays of the sun shone through the trees, +and above their heads the lark sang gaily in the bright summer sky. +Yet they walked silently side by side, as though, in spite of the +brightness of the day, sorrow and not joy were sitting in their +hearts; and all their gay talk and laughter of the early morning was +dead. At length they came to a broad track that crossed the path they +were in, and Atalanta stopped short and pointed to the right. + +"From here," she said, "thou canst not miss thy way. Follow the track +till it lead thee to the high-road, and when thou strikest the +high-road, turn to the left, and thou wilt come to the city thou +seekest." + +Then she held out her hand to him. + +"I must bid thee farewell," she said, "and good luck to the ending of +thy vow." + +"Lady," he said, and took her hand in his, "if thou wilt, thou canst +release me now from my vow." + +But she drew her hand away sharply and tossed back her head. + +"Many kings have daughters besides King Schoenus," she said, "and +any one of them could release thee from thy vow as well as I." + +"Atalanta," he said, "no king's daughter save thee shall ever release +me from my vow. That which all our laughter and our converse last +night and this morning strove to hide, our silence, as we walked side +by side, has revealed far better than I can tell thee. Thou knowest +that I love thee. From the first moment that I saw thee I have loved +thee." + +His words made her heart thrill with a strange joy. But she showed no +sign of it, and answered him coldly. She was proud and wished to test +him. + +"Doubtless the flood-gates of love are easily thrown open where a man +would be released from a vow. Thou knowest how thou mayest win me. Art +thou willing to run in the race?" + +At this all his mirth returned to him, and his eyes shone with +merriment as he answered: + +"Much good would my love do me if I had to drink the poison cup +perforce. Nay, nay," he said; "I love thee too well to put my death at +thy door. When I have some chance of winning the race, I will come +back and claim thee. In the meantime, lady, farewell." + +And, bowing to her, he turned and went his way, without so much as +looking back at her, as she stood trembling with astonishment and +anger. It was not thus her other lovers had spoken. When he had gone +from sight, she turned suddenly and went back by the path they had +come. Her hands were clenched, and the tears sprang unbidden to her +eyes, as she strode forward with long, angry strides that took no heed +of where they went. + +"He has made a mock of me!" she cried to herself--"he has made a mock +of me! He is a base adventurer who seeks release from his vow. He has +no heart and no honour. Fool that I was to treat him as a friend!" + +Thus did she stride along in her wrath, till it had cooled somewhat, +and she was able to think more calmly of the stranger. Then his form +came back to her mind, as he had looked when they stood face to face +at the parting of the ways, when the sun had glinted down upon them +through the trees, and he had looked her straight in the face with his +clear blue eyes, and said: "Thou knowest that I love thee. From the +first moment I saw thee I have loved thee." + +A great sob rose in her throat as she remembered. + +"Ah, he spoke the truth!" she said; "I know that he spoke the truth." + +Moreover, her heart told her that long before he had spoken the words +she had known that he loved her. Yet strange is the bond of love. Its +strands are certainty and doubt interwoven. Wherefore Atalanta, though +she had heard the words which were but the echo of the silent speech +of their hearts, had put him yet further to the test, and had driven +him from her side by asking of him a sacrifice she had no wish for him +to make. + +"If he would come back and run with me," she sighed, "my feet would be +as heavy as lead against him." + +But she sighed in vain. Day after day passed by, and he came not. + +"He is a man of his word," she thought at last. "Till he has some +chance of winning he will not come back. And he is no fool. He knows +he can never run as I can run. He will never come back." + +Yet for all this she watched for him night and day. When she went +forth into the road, or into the forest, she looked for his form at +every turn of the way. When she entered the great hall of the palace, +she looked to see his face at the board. But always she looked in +vain, and sometimes her heart grew bitter against him. + +"If he were to come now," she would say to herself, "I would show him +no mercy. He who takes so much thought before he will risk his life +for my sake is not worthy to win me." + +Then again she would grow tender, and stand looking down the path by +which he had gone, and sigh for him. + +"Oh, my love, come back, come back! My pride is melted away like the +snow, and without any race I will give myself to thee." + +Thus would she long for him, and grow near to hating him, because she +knew that she loved him. The weeks and months passed by, and still he +returned not; winter came and went, and once again the dewdrops shone +in the summer sunlight as Atalanta walked in the forest at break of +day. She walked with her eyes upon the ground, thinking of the summer +morning a long year ago when he had walked by her side in silence +along that very path. When by chance she raised her eyes, there, at +the parting of the ways, he stood, as though in answer to her +thoughts. With a cry she stopped short and gazed at him, and he came +forward and bowed to her. + +"I have come back, lady," he said. + +"Oh!" she cried from her heart, "I am glad thou hast come back." + +Then he bent and kissed her hand. So once more they walked in silence +side by side along the path they had walked before; and once again the +bond of love was knit strong between them, with its strands of +certainty and doubt. As they drew near to the edge of the forest, +Atalanta was the first to speak. + +"And thy vow," she asked--"hast thou found release from it?" + +"Not yet," he answered. "I am come back to run the race, that I may +win release." + +Once again the spirit of perversity came upon her. + +"Where hast thou learnt to run like the wind?" she asked. + +"I have not learnt to run like the wind," he replied. "I have learnt +something better than that." + +"Few things are better in a race than swiftness," she said. + +"True," he answered; "yet I have found the one thing better." + +"What is this strange thing?" she asked. + +"When we have run the race, thou wilt know," he said. + +"I have grown no sluggard," she said, with a toss of her head, as +though to warn him that her speed was not a thing to be despised. + +"That I can see," he said, as he cast a glance at her straight white +limbs and the easy grace of her bearing as she walked beside him. Then +they talked of indifferent matters, and each one knew that what they +had nearest their hearts they were hiding from each other. + +So they came to the palace, and from the lowest to the highest the +inmates greeted the stranger with joy. For he had won the hearts of +them all by his wit and his genial smile. But they sighed when they +heard that he too had come to run in the fatal race. + +"Alas!" said the old king, shaking his head, "I had rather not have +looked upon thy face again than see thee back on such an errand." + +The young man laughed. "He who runs with a fair hope of winning runs +swiftly," he said. "The others were dragged down by the shackels of +their own despair." + +"Thou dost not know my daughter," said the king. + +"Mayhap I know her better than thou thinkest, and better than thou +knowest her thyself," said the stranger. + +No arguments or entreaties would turn him from his purpose. + +"I must win release from my vow," he said. "I cannot live all my life +a nameless wanderer. Yet will I not wed any woman I love not, for the +sake of my release. Atalanta alone can save me, for I love none +other." + +So the lists once again were prepared, and the course made smooth for +the race. With trembling fingers Atalanta tied her girdle about her, +and bound her sandals to her feet. Though her heart was crying out for +the stranger to win, and praying that her feet might fail her at the +last, yet her pride, too, lifted up its head. + +"He makes so sure of winning," she thought, "he despises my swiftness. +He shall see that nothing he has learnt can teach him to run as I can +run. And yet--oh, cursed be the condition I thought so cunning in mine +ignorance! Oh, would that he could win me without first outspeeding +me!" + +Thus did her pride and her desire pull two ways at once. + +And now the folk were gathered together round the course, and Atalanta +and the stranger stood ready and waiting for the word to be given. She +had made it a condition of the race that her rivals should have a good +start of her, and she stood with her eyes upon the stranger's back, as +he waited many paces before her. All too soon the word was given, and +he sprang forward from his place, like a dog which has been straining +at his leash springs forward when the hook is unloosed. And Atlanta, +too, sprang forward; but whereas the man ran like a hunted thing that +strains every muscle to save its life, she ran with the swinging +grace of the wild deer that, far away from the hunters and hounds, +crosses the springing turf of the lonely moor, fearless and proud, as +he throws back his antlers in the breeze. Thus did Atalanta run, as +though she had no thought of the race, or of the man who ran for his +life. Yet, though she seemed to make no effort, she gained upon her +rival at every step, and now she was running close behind him, and now +she was almost shoulder to shoulder, and out of the corner of his eye +he could see the gleam of her tunic. Then for a moment he slackened +his pace, and it seemed that she would pass him, and on every side the +people shouted out to him, "Run, run! Faster, faster! She will pass +thee." + +[Illustration: Out of the corner of his eye he could see the gleam of +her tunic.] + +But he put his hand into the opening of his tunic, and drew forth +something from his breast. Then his hand swung up above his head, and +from it there flashed a dazzling fiery apple. Up and down through the +air it flashed like a meteor, and rolled along the grass, till it +stopped far away in the centre of the course, and lay shining like a +jewel in the rays of the sun. Every eye was turned from the race to +watch its gleaming flight, and Atalanta stopped short and watched it +too. When she saw it stop still in the middle of the course, flashing +and sparkling in the grass, a great desire sprang up in her heart to +have it--a mad, unreasoning desire that she could not resist. And she +darted aside out of the path of the race, and went and picked up the +shining golden apple and put it in the bosom of her tunic. Meanwhile +the stranger had lost no time, and when Atalanta came back to the spot +she had left, he was far ahead upon the course, and she had to run +with a will if she wished to overtake him. But once again she gained +upon him, and the space between them grew less and less, till they +were running wellnigh shoulder to shoulder. And once again he saw the +gleam of her tunic beside him; and again he slackened his speed for a +moment, and sent a second gleaming apple into the air. Once more the +mad, unreasoning desire sprang up in Atalanta's heart, and, leaving +the course, she picked up the second apple and put it in the bosom of +her tunic beside the first. By the time she had returned to the path +the stranger had rounded the turning-point, and was well on his way +towards the goal, and she put forth all her strength to overtake him. +But the ease of her running was gone. She ran as one who runs bearing +a burden, yet she would not cast away the golden apples in her bosom; +for though they hampered her, she gained upon her rival, and for the +third time they were running almost shoulder to shoulder. And again, +the third time, the same thing happened, and Atalanta left the course +to pick up the shining fruit. This time when she returned to her place +the stranger was close upon the goal, and all around the people were +shouting and waving their hands. Blindly she pulled herself together, +and with all the strength that was left in her she made a great spurt +to overtake him. If she would cast away the golden apples, she might +yet win the race; but the same mad desire which had spurred her to +pick them up forbad her now to let them go. As she ran they seemed to +grow heavier and heavier in her bosom; yet she struggled and panted +on, and step by step did she gain upon him, though her eyes were +darkened to all but his form and the goal ahead. On every side the +people shouted louder than before, for they knew not now which of them +would win. As they drew near to the goal they were again almost +shoulder to shoulder, and the stranger saw once more the flash of +Atalanta's tunic beside him, while there were yet some paces to run. +Then he gave a great spurt forward, and leapt away from her side. She +tried to do likewise, but her strength was gone. She had made her last +effort before. Thus did it come to pass that the stranger ran in first +to the goal, and, running close upon his heels, Atalanta fell +breathless into his arms as he turned to catch her. She had run twice +as far as he, but what matter if he had not outsped her? He had won +the race, and held the woman he loved in his arms. The tears shone in +her eyes, but he knew they were not tears of grief; and in the face of +all the people he kissed her. + +Thus was Atalanta, the swiftest of all mortals, beaten in the race by +the stranger, and learnt from his lips what it was that he had found +on his travels that had made speed of no avail in the race. + +For after they had come back to the city, surrounded by the joyous +folk, and had passed hand in hand beneath the gateway, and the +stranger had nodded with a smile at the old porter, who stood bowing +before them; after he had revealed to them all that he was Meilanion, +the son of Amphidamas, and the old king had fallen on his neck and +given him his blessing, because he proved to be the son of his own +boyhood's friend, and the man of all others he would have chosen for +his son-in-law--after all this, when the speeches and the merrymaking +were over, they two walked alone in the moonlit court of the palace. +At last Atalanta had decked herself in the long saffron robes of a +bride, and in her hands she bore the three shining apples. Meilanion's +arm was about her, as they walked for a while in silence, but at +length she spoke and held out the fruit in her hands. + +"Tell me their secret," she said. + +"Their secret lies in thy heart, Atalanta," he answered. + +"What meanest thou?" she asked. + +"I mean that if thou hadst not loved me, they would never have filled +thy soul with longing to have them, and thou wouldst never have turned +aside from the race." + +"And, knowing this, thou didst stake thy life on my love?" she said. + +"Knowing that, I staked my life on thy love," he answered. + +"Then that was the one thing better than speed in the race?" + +"Yes," he answered, "I learnt to trust in thy love." + +There was silence for a moment between them, and then again Atalanta +spoke. + +"And whence came the apples?" she asked him. + +"When I left thee at the parting of the ways," he said, "I travelled +many a weary league by land, and on the road I passed many a shrine of +Aphrodite. But I never passed them by without lifting up my hands in +prayer to the goddess, for I knew that she could help me if she would, +and I knew that to them that love truly she is ever kind in the end. +But I wandered till I was footsore and weary, and yet I had no sign. +At length I came to the seashore, and took ship for the pleasant isle +of Cyprus, which is her own dear home. There at last she came to me, +walking on the waves of the sea, As I lay on the shore in the +night-time, I saw her as a great light afar, and she drew near to me +with the foam playing white about her feet. In her hand she bore three +shining golden apples. And she came and stood beside me, and I hid my +eyes at the sight of her beauty. But she spoke to me in a voice that +was soft and kind, and the melody of it touched my heart like the +melody of music. + +"'Fear not, Meilanion,' she said; 'I have heard the cry of thy heart. +Here are three apples from mine own apple-tree. If she whom thou +lovest loves thee in return, she cannot resist the spell of their +golden brightness. When thou runnest against her, cast them one by one +into the middle of the course. If she love thee she will turn aside to +pick them up. For her they will be heavy as the gold they seem made +of. For thee they will be light as the fruit whose form they wear. +Farewell, and good luck to thy race.' + +"Thereupon darkness came over my eyes, and I could find no words to +thank her. When I awoke I thought it had been a dream, but lo! by my +side upon the sand lay the apples, shining in the sunlight." + +"And thy vow?" asked Atalanta. "How camest thou to make such a vow?" + +He laughed at her words. + +"When a hare is hunted," he said, "thou knowest how he will double and +turn, and take a line he has no mind to pursue to the end. So was it +with me. Long ago in my father's house I heard of thee and of thy +beauty, and how thou couldst cast such a spell upon the hearts of men +that for thy sake they would fling away their lives. And a great +desire came upon me to see this thing for myself, for I could scarce +believe it. So I set forth alone to find thee, and hid my name from +all men as I journeyed, for thus could I be more free to act as seemed +best in mine own eyes. And I saw thee run in a race, and that glimpse +was enough to tell me that I too one day must run with thee. Yet was I +more wary than my rivals. I knew that to come as a suitor was the way +to turn thy heart to stone. Wherefore I pretended to be bound by a +vow, which would bring me as a passing stranger before thee. Canst +thou forgive the lie?" + +She smiled into his face. + +"It was a daring venture," she said. + +"I knew I was as one who treads unknown paths on a moonless night," he +answered. "Yet deep in my heart I felt that when a man desires one +thing on earth above every other--when he loves that thing better than +life itself, he is like to win it in the end, if he walk patiently +step by step in faith. He will win that thing, or death in his +struggle for it; and he is content that so it should be." + +Such was the winning of Atalanta. As for the golden apples, she placed +them in a precious casket, and guarded them jealously all her days, +for a memorial of the race that she had failed to win. + + + + +Paris and OEnone + + +When Peleus the mortal married silver-footed Thetis, the fair nymph of +the sea, great was the rejoicing among gods and men; for Peleus was a +brave warrior and a mighty man, and well deserved to have for wife a +child of the Immortals. To his marriage-feast he bade all the gods and +goddesses, and they left their seats on calm Olympus, and came down to +Pelion where he dwelt, a band of shining ones, to do honour to the +mortal whom they loved. One alone of them all he had not asked--Eris, +the black-browed Goddess of Strife, for at his wedding-feast he wished +to have happiness and joy, and no dark looks to mar the gladness of +his board. But he looked to find shame in the heart of one who knew +not shame. As it was, she came unasked, and great was the sorrow that +her coming brought, both to him and to his wife and all the fair land +of Hellas. For she sowed the seed of discord which blossomed to the +blood-red flower of war, in which the mightiest and the best of two +great nations fell through ten long years of strife, and among them +was Achilles, the swiftest and bravest of mortal men, the son whom +Thetis bore to Peleus to be a comfort to him in his old age, and to +succeed him when he died. But as it was, Achilles died in battle far +from his native land, in the prime and flower of his manhood. + +Now the manner in which Eris wreaked her vengeance was in this wise. + +When the marriage-feast was drawing to its close, and the gladdening +wine had unlocked the lips and opened the hearts of the revellers, +above all the din and clatter there rang through the hall a harsh, +discordant laugh like the rattle of thunder before a storm. A dead +silence fell upon them all, and every eye was turned towards the place +from whence that fearful laugh had come. In the shade of the doorway +stood a tall gaunt figure wrapped all about in black. Above her head +she held a blood-red torch that flickered madly in the breeze, and +cast upon her face the shadow of her wild elf-locks. Her cheeks were +pale as ashes and her lips were thin and blue, but her eyes shone +bright as red-hot coals. When she saw the hall silent and trembling +before her, she laughed aloud once more and waved the torch above her. + +"Ha! ha!" she cried. "You give me a cold welcome, my masters. But I am +kinder than you. I give, and take nothing in return. See here, I bring +a seasoning to your feast, and much joy may you have of it." + +Thereupon she drew from her bosom an apple all of gold, and hurled it +in their faces on the board. It rolled along the table like a ball of +light, and stopped in the centre before Peleus, the king of the feast. +The eyes of all the guests followed it full of amazement and delight, +for it was wondrous fair to look upon. + +"I see you like my gift," cried Eris. "Let her keep it who deserves it +best. Farewell. I stay not where I came unbidden." + +Then she turned upon her heel, and strode away into the blackness of +the night. + +When she had gone, Peleus put forth his hand and took the apple. It +was all of pure gold, the outermost parts of white gold pale as straw, +and the cheeks of red gold bright as poppies, and across it was +written in shining letters, "For the Fairest." + +As Peleus read the words aloud he looked slowly round the board. + +"O lady goddesses," he asked, "to which of you shall I give it?" + +Thereupon arose a strife of tongues, and all the harmony and +good-fellowship of the feast was gone, for one said one thing and one +another, and each one in her heart wished to have it for her own. But +the claim of three stood out above that of all the rest. + +"I am the Queen of Heaven," said Hera, "and the mother of gods and +man. The apple is mine by right." + +"I am the giver of knowledge and wisdom," said Pallas Athene, "and +through me all things are perfected, and the wrong is put to right. +The apple should be mine." + +"I am the Goddess of Love," said Aphrodite, "I am life itself. My +claim is the best of all." + +As Peleus looked on them he knew not to which of them he should give +it, for each in turn seemed fairest. And he was wily withal, and knew +he could not give it to one without angering the other two against +him. So he said, + +"O lady goddesses, who am I that I should judge between you? Choose +you your own judge from among the sons of men, and he shall give the +apple to her he deems the fairest." + +Then they consulted together, and chose Paris, the son of Priam, King +of Troy; for he was the fairest of all mortal men, and would know how +to judge between them. And they left the halls of Peleus with a smile +upon their lips, but in their hearts was envy and hatred where there +had once been sympathy and love; for the apple of discord had +fulfilled the purpose of her who gave it. + +Now Paris was the second son of Priam and Hecuba, and brother of +Hector, the pride of Troy. The night before he was born his mother +dreamed a dreadful dream--that she had given birth to a firebrand +which set all Troy aflame. In terror she sent for her child Cassandra, +the priestess of Apollo, whose word came always true. And she told her +dream, and asked what it could mean. Then Apollo raised from +Cassandra's eyes the veil that hides the future, and she told her +mother the meaning of that dream. + +"In mine ears," she cried, "there sounds the din of battle and the +clash of arms. I see round Troy the foe-men's tents, and their ships +drawn up upon the shore. I see Scamander's stream run red with blood. +Through the desolate streets slinks one whose manhood has departed, +and who shuns the eyes of his fellow-men, for he prized a woman's arms +above his country's honour. That man is the son that thou shalt bear, +and he shall be the curse of Troy." + +When Priam the king heard these words his heart was filled with anger. + +"No son of mine," he cried, "shall bring shame and destruction on my +city. When the child is born he shall be cast out upon the mountains +to die ere his eyes can see the light." + +So, notwithstanding his mother's entreaties, as soon as the child was +born he was given to Agelaus the herdsman to cast out upon the hills. +And he took him up to Gargarus, the topmost peak of Ida, and there he +left him to die of cold and hunger, or to be torn in pieces by the +beasts of prey. + +But when the Fates have spoken, their word shall surely come to pass, +whatever man may do. And so it fell out now. A she-bear, whose cubs +the hunters had killed, found the child, and for five days and five +nights she suckled him, and kept him safe and warm. On the sixth day +Agelaus passed that way once more, looking to find the child dead, if +any trace of him remained. But lo! nestled in the moss and fallen +leaves, the babe lay sweetly sleeping. Then he marvelled greatly in +his heart. + +"Surely," he thought, "this can be no common babe, and it is the will +of Heaven that he should live." + +So he picked him up in his arms, and carried him home to his wife, for +long had they prayed the gods in vain for children. And they brought +him up as their own son, and called his name Paris. As soon as he +could walk, he would go out with his foster-father on the mountains, +and keep watch over the flocks and herds, and he grew to be a tall and +comely lad. For he breathed the pure sweet air of heaven, and bathed +in Ida's rippling streams. Nor did he lack courage and strength +withal. If ever a mountain lion, made bold by hunger, came down upon +the flocks and carried off a sheep or a goat, whilst the herdsmen fled +in terror for their lives, he would up and fight him single-handed +with his knife and his shepherd's staff, and it was not the lion that +came off best in that fight. So famous did he become for his strength +and prowess that all about the countryside men called him Alexander, +defender of men. + +Now it came to pass one summer's day that he had walked for many a +long mile across the treeless downs, and at length he turned, hot and +thirsty, into the shade of the forest. Soon he came upon a mountain +stream that danced foaming over the stones, and he drank of its waters +gladly, and bathed in a clear brown pool; then, tired out, he cast +himself upon the bank and fell asleep. + +When he awoke, the trunks of the pine-trees stood out purple against +the sunset, and the evening light cast over all things a glamour of +mystery. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he must still be dreaming; for +out of the stream beside him there rose a wondrous form of a maiden +clad all in misty white. Her hair was like fallen beech-leaves when +the sun shines on them through the trees, and her eyes were like the +changing river that reflects the light of heaven. She stood before him +motionless, and gazed down upon him where he lay. + +"O most wonderful," he whispered, "who art thou?" + +"I am OEnone," she answered, and her voice was like the music of the +brook--"OEnone, the daughter of Cebren, the river god, whose stream +runs dancing at your feet from the side of wooded Ida. O fairest of +mortals, I am lonely in these mountain glades; let me watch thy flocks +with thee." + +Then she came towards him with both her hands outstretched. And +Paris took her cool white hands in his. Fair as the crescent moon, she +bent over him and raised him from his knees, and they looked deep into +each other's eyes and loved, as the young and pure alone can love. +From that day forth they watched his flocks together on the wooded +slopes, and wandered hand in hand through the forests and across the +smooth green lawns of Ida. + +[Illustration: Out of the stream beside him there rose a wondrous form +of a maiden clad all in misty white.] + +Meanwhile, since the day when Priam had given his child to be exposed +upon the mountains, many a circling year had passed, and the day drew +near on which, if his son had lived, he would have held great games +and feasted in honour of his reaching years of manhood. And Priam's +heart within him smote him when he thought of the innocent babe, and +he cast about in his mind how he yet might do him honour. + +"Perchance I acted hastily," he thought, "and by care and good example +my son might after all have been a blessing to his city and to me. But +the dead are dead, and I cannot call him back to life. Yet will I +honour him as best I may, that in the world below they may know he is +a king's son and not utterly forgotten." + +So he ordered great funeral games to be held in honour of his son, who +had died without a name upon the mountains. Far and wide throughout +the land the tidings went, and the lists were made ready, and rich +prizes brought together for the victors. Among them was to be a bull, +the strongest and finest from all the herds of Priam. The herdsmen +drove down their finest cattle to the city for the king himself to +chose, and he choose out a mighty beast which Agelaus had bred and +reared. Now it chanced that this bull was the favourite of Paris out +of all the cattle under his charge, and he loved him as some men love +a dog. When he heard that Agelaus had given him to be a prize in the +games, he waxed exceeding wrath. + +"If he is to be any man's prize," he cried, "I shall be that man." + +But Agelaus laughed at him. + +"Who art thou," he said, "a foundling and a shepherd's foster-son, to +enter in the lists against the sons of kings?" + +"Sons of kings or sons of crows, I care not," he answered. "My arms +are as strong and my feet are as swift as theirs any day. I shall +enter for the lists." + +The old man chuckled at his words, for he loved the lad, and was proud +of his strength and beauty. + +"The gods be praised!" he muttered. "The mountain air has not dulled +his spirit, nor dried up the royal blood in his veins." + +But OEnone was sad when she heard of his resolve. + +"Ah, Paris," she begged, "as thou lovest me, leave me not to enter for +these games." + +"But I will come back to thee, beloved. What difference can it make?" +he asked. + +"In my heart pale fear is sitting," she replied. "I know that if thou +goest, it will be the beginning of woes for thee, and for me, and for +all thy native land." + +"Nay, thou art over fearful. Thou shalt see, I will come back with my +bull, and thou and I will be happy together, as we have always been." + +"Paris," she said, "that I know will never be, if once thou joinest in +the games. I can see but dimly into the future, but this much at least +I know: that if thou goest, war shall beat about the walls of Troy +like a wave of the sea, and from the midst of the battle I see thee +earned forth wounded unto death. Ah, Paris, leave the bull for a +weaker man, and go not down!" + +"Nay, I cannot hearken to such foolishness. What war can come if I go +to Troy for the sake of a bull?" + +"The cause of the war I know not, but come it surely will. O Paris, in +that day come back to me, and I will heal thee of thy hurt! I know the +use of herbs, for many a strange charm has my father taught me, and if +any life is left in thee, I will call it back. But best of all, stay +with me now, and go not down to the games." + +And, weeping, she threw her arms about his neck; but nothing she could +say would stop him. + +So when the day came he went down into the city, and entered for the +lists with the flower of the land, and all the folk marvelled who he +might be. For he was tall and exceeding fair, and they had never seen +his face before. When the turn came for his match, he set his teeth +and wrestled like a young lion, for the bull that was the pride of his +flock; and the strength of his adversaries was turned to weakness. +With joy in his heart, he came forward to take his prize; and a loud +cheer rose to heaven, for the people were glad that he had won. And +the king's heart went out to him as he gave the prize, for he was the +age his son would have been had he lived. + +"Young man," he said, "who art thou, and who is thy father?" + +"I am Paris, the foster-son of Agelaus the herdsman," he answered. + +"Is thine own sire dead, then?" asked Priam. + +"O king, thou askest me riddles I cannot answer," said Paris, "seeing +I know not even who mine own sire may be." + +"This is a strange matter," said the king, and in spite of himself his +heart beat fast within him. + +Now Cassandra the prophetess, his daughter, was standing by his side, +and the time had come for her to speak. + +"O king," she said, "thou hast not far to seek for the father of this +lad." + +"What meanest thou?" said Priam. + +"Put thy hands upon the lad's shoulders, and look into his eyes, and +thou shalt see the image of his father," she answered. + +Trembling between hope and fear, the old king bent forward from his +seat and put his hands upon the young man's shoulders. + +"Can it be--can it really be my son?" he asked. + +"Thy son he is," replied Cassandra, "and no other man's. The Fates +decreed that he should live, and he has lived." + +"My son, my son!" cried the king, and fell upon his neck. "How I have +longed for thee, and my soul has been weighed down with the burden of +thy death! Now in mine old age the gods have given thee back to me, +and my heart is glad. For thou art brave and fair, my son, and any +father would be proud of thee, nor fear that ever thou shouldst bring +dishonour on the land." + +Once again the old man fell upon his neck and kissed him; and Hecuba, +his mother, held him in her arms, and wept tears of joy over the +child she had given up for dead. His brothers and his sisters crowded +round, and all the people; and some raised him on their shoulders, and +with songs and shouts of joy they took him to the palace of Priam. +There they clothed him in rich raiment, as befitted a king's son, and +held a great feast in his honour; for every man was glad that one so +fair and noble had been spared to bring honour to the land of Troy. +Cassandra alone sat silent amidst the revelry, for her heart was cut +in two. When she looked upon her brother's fair young face, she was +glad that he had lived; yet ever before her eyes there floated the +vision she had seen the night before he was born--a vision of war, +unmanliness and death--and she knew that vision would come true. When +she thought of it she shuddered and almost wished him dead, and in her +heart she cursed that fatal gift of prophecy which brought her nought +but grief. Verily in her case knowledge was not a thing of joy. + +When the guests had departed, the old king took his son aside. + +"I have set a place apart for thee, my son," he said, "and from this +day forth thou must live with thy kinsfolk in the palace." + +"I will live with thee right gladly, my father," he answered, "but my +days I will spend upon the mountains as of yore, and keep watch over +thy flocks and herds. For I love the beasts and the mountain air, and +methinks in a city I should pine for want of my old free life." + +The form of OEnone rose up before his eyes; but that he hid from his +father. + +"Thou mayest live as best pleases thee, my son," said Priam, "and I +will give thee many goodly flocks and herds of cattle for thine own." + +So it came to pass that, though Paris was a prince and son of the King +of Troy, there was small change in his manner of life, save that now +he lived in his father's palace instead of the herdsman's hut. For in +those days it was thought no shame even for a prince to be a shepherd, +and keep watch over his own flocks and herds. + +It was soon after this that the strife arose among the goddesses about +the apple that Eris had cast in their midst at the marriage-feast of +Peleus. And Zeus sent down Iris, the swift-footed messenger of Heaven, +to tell Paris of the charge that was laid on him, and to bear him the +golden apple. Down the path of the rainbow she sped, the road whereby +she always went to and fro betwixt gods and men. Her shining robes +flew out behind her, and the wings upon her feet and shoulders glanced +like lightning in the sky. At early dawn, while the dew lay bright +upon the ground, she came and stood in the path as Paris was driving +his flocks to pasture. In one hand she held the staff that Zeus had +given her, to show she was the messenger of Heaven, and in the other +she held the golden apple. + +"O fairest of mortals," she said, "I have been sent to thee by Zeus, +who rules on high. In heaven there is war between the three great +goddesses as to which of them shall have the prize for beauty, this +apple thou seest in mine hand. And they have appointed thee to be the +judge between them. Hold thyself ready, then, for this day at noon +they will come to thee here on the lonely heights of Ida." + +She spoke, and threw the apple to him, and he caught it deftly, as a +player catches a ball. And wind-footed Iris sped back by the rainbow +path as swift as she had come. + +"This is passing strange," thought Paris, as he gazed at the apple in +his hand, and read the words inscribed upon it--"For the Fairest." +There it lay, smooth and shining, a sure token that he had not been +dreaming. So he took it and showed it to OEnone, and told her what +Iris, the messenger of the gods, had said to him. When OEnone heard +it she was filled with fear. + +"Cast it at their feet, Paris, when they come to thee," she begged, +"and say thou canst not set thyself up to be a judge of the +Immortals." + +"Nay, that would anger them against me," he said; for in his heart he +was proud to have been chosen out of all the sons of men. + +"I tell thee it will bring thee trouble if thou doest it, and to me +sorrow unspeakable," said she. + +"Did the winning of the bull bring sorrow either to thee or to me?" he +asked scornfully. + +OEnone was silent under his rebuke, though she knew her foreboding +would come true. When the sun was almost high in the heavens, she came +to him softly where he lay on the grass and kissed his hand. + +"Zeus grant thee wisdom in thy judgment, Paris," she said, and glided +away swiftly through the trees, that he might not see the tears in her +eyes. + +Then his heart smote him for his scornful words, and he rose up +hastily from the ground and called to her, + +"OEnone, OEnone!" + +But she answered him not, and when he looked for her among the trees, +he could find no trace of her. Now it was close upon noon, and he +hastened back to the glade, where Iris had bidden him stay, and waited +for the coming of the goddesses. In the clear bright light of noontide +they came and stood before him in the shade of the forest trees; and +he fell on his knees before them, filled with wonder and awe, and cast +his eyes upon the ground, for he was afraid to look upon such majesty +and beauty. Thereupon they drew near to him and bade him not be +afraid, but rise and give his judgment. So he rose from his knees and +looked upon them; and minute after minute passed, while still he +gazed, for he could not make up his mind, so passing fair was each. + +"Ah, lady goddesses," he said at last, "take the apple and divide it +into three, for I cannot say who is the fairest among you." + +"Nay, that may not be," they said; "thou must give it to one, and one +alone." + +As he still hesitated, Hera spoke. + +"Look well upon me, Paris," she said. "I am the Queen of Heaven, and +wife of Zeus almighty, and all power and might is in my hands. I can +give thee kingship and sovereignty, and dominion over many peoples. +See to it that my might is for thee, and not against." + +As she spoke his heart turned cold with fear, and from terror he would +have given her the apple. But as he was about to stretch forth his +hand, Pallas Athene spoke. + +"O Paris, what is power without wisdom? Purple and gold, and to sit +where others kneel--all these things make not a king. But to walk by +the light of knowledge where others grope in darkness--this can make +a slave a ruler of kings. This can I give thee." + +Then the voice of reason within him prompted him to give the apple to +her; but once again he was withheld, as Aphrodite spoke. + +"Power and wisdom, Paris? What are these but empty words at which men +vainly grasp? I can give thee that which all men covet--the fairest of +women for thine own." + +The music of her voice made the blood rush like fire through his +veins, and his heart was melted within him. + +"O Aphrodite," he cried, and fell at her feet, "thou art fairest. +Beside love, what is power, what is wisdom? I give thee the apple, O +thou fairest among the fair!" + +As she stretched forth her hand towards him to take the apple, a mist +fell over his eyes, and he knew no more. When he awoke the apple and +the goddesses had vanished away, and OEnone was bending over him +weeping. + +"Alas," she said, "my father, whose stream runs at thy feet, has told +me thy choice, Paris, and I am come to bid thee farewell." + +"Farewell, OEnone? Why farewell?" he cried, and stretched out his +arms to her. The flame of Aphrodite still burned in his heart, and to +his eyes OEnone had never looked more fair than now. + +"Because of Aphrodite's promise," she answered. + +"Ah, OEnone!" he cried, and took her in his arms, "now I know what +that promise meant. Thou art the fairest of women, and thou art mine, +beloved, and Aphrodite's promise was fulfilled ere she made it." + +"Nay, nay, that is not what she meant. I may be fair, Paris, yet I am +no woman, but a child of the mountain waters. One day thou wilt forget +me, and thy heart will turn to thine own kind. In that day Aphrodite +has promised that the fairest of women shall be thine, and she will +surely keep her word." + +"Thou art woman enough for me," he said, "and I shall never want any +other than thee." He kissed her, and comforted her as best he could. +The hours fled by like minutes, the moon rose high in heaven, and one +by one the stars came out, yet still they sat and talked of love, and +of how they would be faithful to each other always. In like manner day +after day passed by, and no two lovers in all the land were happier +than Paris and OEnone. + +Now it chanced that about this time Menelaus, King of Sparta, came to +Troy, at the command of the oracle at Delphi. For a year past his land +had been laid waste by a grievous famine, and when he inquired the +cause of it, the oracle bade him go to Troy and offer sacrifices at +the tomb of Lycus and Chimæreus, the sons of Prometheus, for until +their spirits were appeased the land of Sparta would be barren, and +her sons would die of hunger in her streets. So Menelaus set sail for +Troy, and Priam and all his house received him with joy. They held +great feasts in his honour, and treated him hospitably, as befitted +the king of a mighty people. When he had performed his task, and the +time had come for him to return, he said to Priam, + +"My friend, thou hast treated me right royally, and I in my turn would +fain do thee some service. Say, wilt thou not sail with me to Sparta, +and see my palace, which shineth as the sun for splendour, and Helen, +my wife, who is the fairest in a land where the women are fairer than +all other women?" + +But Priam shook his head. + +"I am an old man, Menelaus, and my travelling days are done. But if +thou wouldst truly do me a service, thou wilt take with thee my son +Paris as thy guest. He is of an age now to travel and see strange +lands, and I could not entrust him to better hands than thine. Say, +wilt thou take him or no?" + +"I will take him right gladly," answered Menelaus, "seeing that since +I cannot have thyself, no other man would please me so well as thy +son. Bid the young man be ready, and he shall sail with me and my +folk." + +When Paris heard the news, he was glad; for never in his life had he +set foot outside the land of Troy, and he longed to see the riches of +Menelaus and all the wonders of his palace in Sparta. Ere the sun had +risen he was in the woods of Ida telling OEnone of the voyage he +must take. + +"Nay, grieve not, beloved," he said, as she turned her face sadly +away; "for a few short months I must leave thee, but I will come back +to thee with many a long tale of the wonders I have seen. There is +nought like travel to make a man hold up his head among his fellows, +and the seeing of strange things that others have not seen." + +"There is nought like travel," she said, "to make a man forget his +home, and love the new things better than the old." + +"Dost thou think me so faithless, OEnone?" + +"Many men are faithful till they meet temptation," she replied. + +"Had I listened to thee, I should still have been a shepherd on the +mountains, knowing neither kith nor kin." + +"It would have been happier so," said she. + +"OEnone, I must not heed thy fears. Remember, I am a king's son, and +I must live my life as befits a man, and not be ever held back by a +woman's arms." + +"The gods grant thou mayest always think so, Paris. Fare thee well, +then; I will stay thee no longer, but I will watch for thy coming as +never woman watched before. If evil fortune befall thee, Paris, come +back to me, and I will save thee." + +So, with many a promise not to forget her, but to come back to her as +soon as might be, he left her and set sail with Menelaus. + +And they crossed the blue Ægæan and came to glorious Sparta, lying low +among the circling hills. And Menelaus made his guest welcome, and +showed him all the splendours of his palace, with its inlaid columns +and its frieze of gold and blue. His stable and horses did he show +him, and the stadium where the races were run and his treasure-house +beneath the ground. Last of all he took him to Helen, his wife. + +Now Helen, fairer than the sun in heaven, was sitting among her +maidens, and when her lord and Paris entered, she rose from her chair +and came forward with a smile to greet them. In the curve of her neck, +in the gleam of her hair, there was magic, and a witchery about her +face and form that no man could withstand; for she was the fairest of +all women under the sun, that ever had been or ever should be in time +to come. Many a man in his day loved Helen of Sparta, and many a man +did she love in return; for so the gods had made her, exceeding fair +and exceeding fickle, a joy and a curse among men. + +As Paris looked upon her, her beauty reached his heart like the fumes +of wine, and he forgot himself and his native land and OEnone; he +forgot all pride and manliness, and the ties of honour that bound him +to his host--all but his passion for Helen. Day and night he thought +of her and of her alone, and of how he might make her his own; and day +and night he plotted and planned, and at last he gained his end. For +Aphrodite, true to her word, helped him, as she alone could do, and +kindled in the heart of Helen an answering flame, making her for the +time being love Paris more than Menelaus, her lord, or any other man. +And she cast dust in the eyes of Menelaus, so that he saw not how the +two lived only for each other, nor suspected his guest of any +treachery. So one dark night they fled away together to Gythium, and +from thence they sailed to Cranaë, and were wedded, and had joy of +their love, forgetful of all else. + +OEnone, meanwhile, wandered lonely about the woods and groves of +Ida. With a heavy heart she had watched the ships of Menelaus sail +away, and now, day by day, she would go down to the shore and look out +across the sea towards Hellas. High up upon a rock she would sit and +sigh for him. + +"Ah, Paris, between thee and me lies many a weary league of barren +waters and many a misty mountain chain. But my heart is with thee in +that strange new land. Oh, Paris, forget me not, but come back to me +soon, beloved." + +Thus would she sigh day by day; but he came not. Month after month +passed by, and still he came not, nor any news of him, and his father +and all the city were troubled to know what might have befallen him. +So they manned a ship, and sent it out to Sparta to get news, and in +time it returned home to tell how Paris and Helen had fled from +Menelaus, and how Menelaus had set out in pursuit, and had followed +them to the land of Egypt. After that no man knew where they had gone, +or whether, perchance, Paris and Menelaus had met in deadly battle and +fallen each by the other's hand, or what might have chanced. All the +land was plunged in woe to think that Paris had so far forgotten his +honour as to steal away the wife of his host. But still they kept +watch by day and by night, in case he should come back and be +persuaded to give her up and make what amends he could. + +Paris, meanwhile, with Helen, had fled before Menelaus from Egypt, and +had taken refuge in Phoenicia; and when he traced them there, they +fled once more and took ship to return to Troy; for they could not +live for ever as wanderers on the face of the earth. With the silence +of shame the folk received them at the harbour, and amid silence, that +spoke more than words, they made their way through the city and came +and stood before Priam in his halls, with eyes downcast upon the +ground. Now Priam had heard of their coming, and had prepared in his +mind a wrathful speech wherewith to greet his son and the woman who +had led him astray. But when he looked upon Helen his wrath melted +away like frost before the sun; for she stood like a fair lily that +some careless hand has half plucked from its stem, so that its head +hangs drooping towards the dust. Even so did she stand, with the +tear-drops falling from her eyes. And all the wrathful words faded +from his mind, so that he spoke quite otherwise than he had planned. + +"My children," he said gently, "come hither to me." + +They came and knelt before him, and he laid his hands upon their young +shoulders, as they bowed their heads and wept upon his knees. + +"Ye have grievously sinned, my children," he said, "and ye are +learning, all too late, how bitter is the fruit of sin. There is but +one course before you. Paris, give back the woman thou hast stolen, +and make what honourable amends thou canst. And thou, Helen, go home +with thy lord when he comes for thee, and be a faithful wife to him +always, and make him forget that ever thou didst play him false." + +"O King," she said, "thou knowest not what thou askest. If thou givest +me up to Menelaus he will slay me, or else my life will be a dog's +life in his halls; for his heart is no softer than a flint, though his +tongue be smooth. O my father, cast me not out from thy halls. If I +have sinned in leaving Menelaus, shall I not sin again in leaving +Paris? Or shall my sin be less if I flee from the man I love, to go +with him I love not? Who maketh two hearts to cleave together? Who but +Aphrodite all-powerful? Must we set at nought the will of Heaven for +the sake of laws that man has made? O Priam, my father, forsake me +not, but keep me in thy halls." + +And she clasped her hands about his knees and looked up into his face. +Beneath her gaze all his resolve gave way, and he took her face +between his hands and kissed her. + +"My daughter," he said, "thou shalt stay with me as long as it shall +please thee." + +Thus did it come to pass that she made her home in Troy, and Priam, +the king, became an accomplice in her sin; for the gods had so made +her that the hearts of men were as wax between the fingers of Helen of +Sparta. + +In time came Menelaus, and stood in the halls of Priam, and demanded +back his wife. And they offered him a ransom--gold and precious +stones--but he flung it back in their faces. + +"Think you that gold can pay for a living soul?" he cried. "Only a +life can pay for a life, and many a life shall you pay for the sake of +Helen. Look to your battlements and towers, O Priam; they must be +strong indeed to stand against the host that I shall bring behind me +from Hellas. Farewell, till we meet again in battle." + +And he strode from the hall in anger, and sailed away to Sparta, to +rouse up all the heroes of Hellas to take part in his quarrel with +Troy. + +Meanwhile in Troyland the forge fires burnt night and day, and the +hammer rang loud upon the anvil. The red-hot iron was drawn from the +furnace and bound hissing about the chariot-wheel; shields were +stretched and swords were fashioned, and the ash-tree was felled upon +the mountain for the handle of the tapering spear. Among the men many +a heart beat high with hope; for what is there like war, if a man is +brave and strong, to bring him renown, and make his name live among +his fellows? But in the women's hall many a silent tear was shed; for +what is there like war to bring sorrow to a woman's heart, when she +sees her dear ones going forth to battle and knows not whether she +shall ever look on their faces again, or, perchance, see them carried +home with a gaping spear-wound in the side? And when the battle is +raging she can do nought but pray. So they cursed Helen and her beauty +in their hearts, and wished that even now King Priam would send her +back and stave off the war from Troy. + +But Paris and Helen cared for none of these things; while others +worked and wept, they dallied in each other's arms and forgot all +else, or hoped that when Menelaus reached home his anger would cool, +and that he would find the kings of Hellas none too willing to leave +their lands for the sake of another's wife. But in this they hoped in +vain, and reckoned not how dear a man may hold his country's honour. +For one dark night the hosts of Hellas pulled in to shore, and drew up +their boats upon the beach and pitched their camp, and when the +morning dawned their men were thick as flies about the walls of Troy. + +So did it come to pass that Cassandra's words came true, and for many +a weary year the tide of war surged about the city like a wave of the +sea, and Paris slunk through the streets like a beaten cur, not daring +to look his fellows in the face. For they hated him because he had +brought war upon his country, and yet, though the quarrel was of his +own making, he was ever the last to take the field and ever the first +to retreat. So low had his manhood sunk that he thought far more of +reaching Helen with an unbroken skin than of winning fame upon the +field of battle. + +But one day matters reached a pass when Menelaus met him face to face +upon the field, and challenged him to single combat beneath the walls +of Troy. He who should kill his man should have Helen for wife, and +the war should end, and no more lives be spent in vain for the sake of +a quarrel that concerned but two. But Paris thought of Helen waiting +in her chamber, and looked upon Menelaus, standing sword in hand +before him, strong as a lion in his wrath. Then his heart gave way +within him, and he turned and fled from the face of his foe back into +the ranks of the Trojans. He would have fled from the fight +altogether, but that in the path of his retreat stood Hector; the +nodding plumes waved terrible upon his helmet, and he leant on his +two-handed sword and frowned upon his brother, for he had seen how he +fled from Menelaus. When Paris saw him he fell back ashamed, but +Hector stood aside to let him pass. + +"Thou chicken-hearted mannikin," he cried, "get thee gone, and let +others fight thy battle, that the courage of the Trojans be not a +by-word among the nations." + +And Paris slunk past him with his eyes upon the ground, and went home +to Helen in her chamber. + +But when the fight was over Hector came and dragged him from his +hiding-place as a dog drags out a rat into the light. + +"Thou smooth-faced deceiver," he said, "is this the way a man should +fight when he has sailed across the high seas, and stolen away the +fairest of women from a man mighty in battle? Are we to make the name +of Troy a laughing-stock among our foes, and hang our heads in shame +when men shall say, 'In strength and might they are like the immortal +gods, these Trojans, but their courage is the courage of the deer, +that flees swiftly through the forest when he hears the bark of the +hounds? Thou coward, would thou hadst never been born, or hadst died +upon the mountains ere there was time to bring dishonour on thy +country." + +And Paris trembled before his brother's wrath, but some of his old +manhood returned to him. + +"Thou speakest as all men speak who know not Aphrodite's power," he +said. "Nevertheless, if thou wilt have it so, send forth a herald to +Menelaus, and tell him I accept his challenge, and will fight him for +the sake of Helen, his wife. And let the hosts of the Achæans and the +hosts of Troy lay down their arms, and we two will stand up alone +between them, and whichsoever of us shall fall in death, his side +shall give up Helen to the victor; and the war shall cease, and peace +be made between the nations." + +So Hector sent forth a herald to Menelaus, and the two hosts drew +close together on the plain till there was but a narrow space between +them, and they laid aside their arms, and some lay upon the ground or +sat, and others stood behind to watch the fight in the midst. And +Paris put on his shining armour and his helmet with the nodding +plumes, and went and stood face to face with Menelaus. In the sight of +all the people Hector prayed, + +"O Zeus, who rulest from on high, grant that he who is the offender +may fall in the fight, and his spirit flee away to Hades, that the +land may have peace and the people rest from war." + +And every man in his heart prayed likewise, for all were sickened at +the long years of fruitless strife. + +Then Hector shook the lots in his helmet, to see who should be the +first to hurl his brazen spear, and the lot of Paris fell forth upon +the ground. And he brandished his spear above his head, and hurled it +with all his might, and it crashed against the shield of Menelaus; but +the stout shield turned it aside, and it fell powerless upon the +ground. Thereupon Menelaus in his turn hurled his spear, and it +pierced through the shield of his foe, and would have brought black +death to his heart had he not swerved aside, so that the point but +grazed his corselet. But Menelaus, seeing his advantage, drew forth +his sword and rushed upon him, and felled him a mighty blow upon his +helmet, hoping to cleave it in two. But the sword shivered to pieces +in his hand as he struck. Then, with an oath, he cast aside the hilt +and leapt upon Paris, and seized him by the horsehair plume upon his +helmet, and dragged him down. And the leathern thong that held the +helmet was drawn tight about his throat, so that the breath was +wellnigh squeezed out of him, and Menelaus was bearing him in triumph +towards the Achæan host. But Aphrodite was mindful of her favourite, +and, ere it was too late, she made the stout ox-hide give way beneath +the weight of his body, and the helmet slipped off his head. Then she +wrapped a mist about his body, so that no man should see him, and bore +him away through the midst of the Trojan host, and laid him upon his +bed. In the likeness of an aged dame she went and stood beside Helen +on the battlements, where she leant with the other Trojan women +looking down upon the plain, and she told her how she had borne forth +Paris from the fight and saved him, and that now he lay upon his bed +and longed for her. So straightway Helen left the others, and went and +sat down by Paris. When she saw him lying there, without so much as +a scratch upon his body, she was ashamed for him, and began to upbraid +him. + +[Illustration: Menelaus was bearing him in triumph towards the Achaean +host.] + +"So thou hast come back from the battle, Paris, and couldst not endure +to stand up to god-like Menelaus. Would that he had taken thee, for he +is a better man than thou art! Go forth now, thou craven, and +challenge him once more to battle, and stay thy ground like a man. Lo! +thou art vanished away like smoke from the field, and both the hosts +are making mock of thee." + +Then her heart smote her for fear he should take her at her word and +go back, and she fell upon her knees beside him, and took his hand in +hers and wept. + +"Ah, Paris," she cried, "go not forth, I pray thee, but stay with me. +I, even I, do bid thee stay, lest thou fall by the hand of Menelaus, +and I be left all desolate without thee." + +"Ah, Helen," he said, "upbraid me not, for I love thee above all else. +Some other day I will return and fight with Menelaus, but now I will +stay with thee, and we will have joy of each other and forget all +else," + +So whilst Menelaus searched raging through all the host, like a lion +seeking for his prey, Paris and Helen dallied in each other's arms, +hidden from the eyes of men. An ill reckoning would it have been for +Paris had the men of Troy known where to find him, for they hated him +like black death, and would have given him up to the hands of +Menelaus, to do by him as he would. + +From that day forth Paris scarce dared to show his face among his +fellows; but when Hector urged him, and he could stand out against his +taunts no longer, he would go forth into the battle, but disguised as +a common soldier, with no mark upon him of his rank and birth. So did +he hope to escape death and flee home as swift as might be to the arms +of Helen. In this he succeeded full well for a time, but a day came +when no disguise could save him and he could not flee away. For in the +ranks against him stood mighty Philoctetes, with his bow and his +poisoned arrows. And he drew his bow and prayed to Zeus in his heart, + +"O Zeus almighty, that drivest the black thundercloud before thee, do +thou guide mine arrow aright, that it may work havoc among our foes +and bring glory to the host of the Achæans. In thy hands I leave it." + +Then he drew back the string, so that the mighty bow was wellnigh bent +in two, and the arrow sped with a whirr far over the foremost ranks of +the Trojans to the rear part of the host. And it fell upon Paris, and +pierced between the joints of his armour right through into his side. +With a groan he fell, and black night came over his eyes, and he lay +as one dead upon the field. When the fight was over, and either side +was gathering up the dead and wounded from the plain, they came upon +Paris among the rest; but till they had drawn off his helmet they knew +him not, for he was dressed as a common soldier. When they saw who it +was, they put him reverently on a bier apart, for he was a king's son, +and had been a brave man once, and death can wipe out many an old +score of bitterness and hatred. So they bore him upon their shoulders +silently to the palace of Priam his father, and laid him upon his +couch. And they brought him wine and cordials, for his heart beat +faintly still within his breast. For a moment he revived, and spoke in +broken whispers. + +"My friends, I am dying," he said, "and I would die in the pure free +air of heaven, away from cities and from men and from my shame. O my +father, bid them carry me forth upon Ida, and there let them leave me, +and return no more till they know the last breath must have gone from +my body. Then let them burn me there, where once I was brave and free; +and as the fire of my burning shall die out, so let my name die out +from among you--my name and my dishonour." + +So did he speak, and fell back exhausted, with the vision before his +eyes of the groves of Ida and of OEnone, and of how she rose from +the waters and loved him in the days of his innocent youth. And he +remembered her words: + +"O Paris, in that day come back to me, and I will heal thee of thy +hurt." + +And he wondered whether she would keep her word and forgive him and +heal him, so that they could go back to their old life upon the +mountains. But even if she would not, he felt that he would rather die +there than in the airless city. + +So they wrapped him about in warm coverings--for it was winter-time, +and the snow lay white upon the ground--and carried him forth upon +Ida. And they placed a blazing torch above his head and left him on +the lonely heights, and the whispering pine-trees kept watch above him +as they tossed their arms in the cold north wind. + +From the shadow of a boulder OEnone watched the procession wind back +down the mountain-track, and when they had passed out of sight she +came forth from her hiding-place. The tale of Paris and Helen she +knew full well, and the reason of the war, for she had listened to the +talk of the shepherds on the mountains. But still in her heart she +loved Paris; and when she saw him carried forth to die, she remembered +how she had promised to heal him of his hurt, for she knew many a +magic charm, and she could heal him if she would. So now she drew near +to him out of the forest, and bent over his couch, and her red-gold +hair fell soft about his face. But the fire of fever burnt hot within +him, and he knew her not; but the face that came before his wandering +mind was the face of Helen. + +"Helen!" he whispered, "Helen!" + +At the sound of that hated name a great bitterness came into the heart +of OEnone. + +"Must I heal thee for the sake of Helen?" she cried, and turned and +fled through the darkened pines, on, on, she knew not where, and threw +herself at last upon the grass and wept. + +And so the torch burned low above his head and cast a dim red glow +upon the snow, and he died alone of his fever upon the mountains, and +she healed him not of his hurt. + +The next morning came the young men from the city, and the sons of +Priam, and the old king himself, to the place where Paris lay; for +they knew full well that he could not have lived out that night upon +the mountains. And they gathered together the pine-trunks which the +woodmen had left felled upon the ground, and heaped up a great pyre, +high up upon the hills, so that the burning of Paris might shine like +a beacon fire in the sight of Troy and of the Achæan host. When the +pyre was built they placed the body on it, and poured out wine and oil +upon the wood, and the old king stood and lifted up his hands above +his son. + +[Illustration: Cast herself upon the body of Paris, and put her arms +about his neck.] + +"O father Zeus," he prayed, "who rulest upon Ida, before thee do I +burn the body of my son, and before my friends and before my foes, +that they both may see it. May the wine which I pour forth upon his +body be a libation of peace, that by his death he may join together in +friendship those hands which by his sin he made to draw the sword upon +each other. O Zeus almighty, grant my prayer!" + +The people bowed their heads as they heard, and the old man poured +forth the last libation. The salt tears ran from his eyes and fell +upon the body of his son, and washed away from his mind all memory of +his sin and cowardice, and only the image of him remained as he had +been when he came in his youth and beauty for the winning of the bull. +So can the hand of death wipe out all ugliness and wrong. + +When the last libation had been poured, they set the pyre alight, and +in time it burned up bravely, for the oil and the wine, and the breath +of the north wind blowing bleak across the mountain, made the flame +burn bright and clear; and the pyre of Paris shone like a flaming star +against the dull grey sky and over the hills and plain lying silent +beneath their pall of snow. Far away across the valley OEnone saw +the light, and knew that the body of him she loved, and might have +saved, lay perishing within the flames. All too late, the bitterness +in her heart died out, and only the love remained, and she would have +given all she knew to have healed Paris of his hurt. With a wild cry +she rushed, on the wings of the storm-wind, down the valley and up the +hillside, and her white robes flew out behind her and the long locks +of her red-gold hair. Through the ranks of the mourners she rushed and +over the melting snow, through the flames of the pyre, and cast +herself upon the body of Paris and put her arms about his neck. There, +on his last resting-place, she lay with him, and the stifling smoke +closed about her, and her spirit fled away there, where his had gone +before. The people heard her cry, and saw her as she flew through +their midst; but they thought it was the shriek of the north wind +rushing over the hills, and to their eyes her white robes and her +flowing hair seemed but the snowdrift, and last year's dead leaves +whirled madly on the wings of the storm. And so they knew nought of +the love of Paris and OEnone, or of how she watched his flocks with +him when he was brave and free, or of how she forgave him, all too +late, and died with him in the pyre which burned for a beacon of peace +upon the snow-clad hills. + + + THE END + + * * * * * + +_Wells Gardner, Darton, & Co., Ltd._ + +Selected List of their + +_Fine Art Series_ + +Specially adapted for Presents, Prizes, &c. + +Illustrated by Margaret Clayton + +A WONDER-BOOK _of_ BEASTS + +[Illustration] + +Edited by F. J. HARVEY DARTON + +[Illustration] + +Besides numerous Black and White Illustrations, the Title-page and +Frontispiece are daintily coloured. + +_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ + +Illustrated by F. D. Bedford + +CENTENARY EDITION. + +THE 'ORIGINAL POEMS' AND OTHERS + +By JANE and ANN TAYLOR And ADELAIDE O'KEEFE + +Edited + +By E. V. LUCAS + + _'The quality of the poetry of the Misses Taylor has been + praised by such great judges that any praise from ourselves + would be superfluous. No other writers of children's poetry + have written of childish incident with all the child's + simplicity._--SPECTATOR. + + _'Mr. Bedford's illustrations are not only very well drawn, but + inspired by just the right feeling. It may be added that the + Taylors were really the founders of a school. They gave a form + and character to nursery verse which have become classic, and + have been followed more or less by a long line of later + writers.'_--STANDARD. + + _'Thanks are due to that delicate lover of literature and of + children, Mr. E. V. Lucas, for reprinting this veritable + classic.'_ TIMES OF INDIA. + +[Illustration: 'Why should you fear to tell the truth?'--_p. 71_.] + +Large Crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards. + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON + +Illustrated by F. D. Bedford + +RUNAWAYS & CASTAWAYS + +Edited with Introduction by E. V. LUCAS + +[Illustration: "Hands his lady out, and gives the guard something for +himself;"] + +Besides profuse black and white illustrations, the frontispiece and +title-page are daintily coloured. + + _'Mr. E. V. Lucas has deliberately set himself to capture + hearts while young and tender.... In twenty years he will have + become such a power in the land as to be a national danger, and + his new work, "Runaways and Castaways," is only another step + towards this enviable destiny.'_--TIMES. + + _'A collection of the most exciting and delightful runaway + stories in the world.'_ NATION. + + +_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ + + +Illustrated by F. D. Bedford + +ANOTHER BOOK OF VERSES FOR CHILDREN + +Selected and Edited by E. V. LUCAS + +[Illustration: We know not who in olden time It was who first invented +rhyme] + +But few have done as much as he To brighten things for you and me.] + +Profusely Illustrated in Black and White, with Frontispiece and +Title-page beautifully printed in Colour. + + '_A delightful compilation, and noticeably excellent in the + method of its arrangement._' + + ATHENÆUM. + + '_We may briefly and emphatically describe it as the most + charming anthology for children that we have seen, original in + choice and arrangement, beautifully bound, and owing no little + to Mr. F. D. Bedford's delightful and sympathetic + illustrations._' + + GUARDIAN. + + '_Most happily selected, Moreover, the light and humorous + verse--verse harmless without any obvious moral--is too much + neglected, for children like to be amused, and this need is + sometimes forgotten._' + + SPECTATOR. + + '_The volume is in itself a real gift-book, being admirably + bound, printed, and illustrated._' + + THE WORLD. + + +_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ + + +Illustrated by Gordon Browne + +FAIRY TALES FROM GRIMM + + '_Of new editions of old favourites the palm must be given, we + think, to this collection of Fairy Tales from Grimm.... We do + not think a better edition has appeared._' + + REVIEW OF REVIEWS. + + '_No more acceptable edition of some of Grimm's Stories has been + published._'--STANDARD. + + '_Altogether delightful. The illustrations are full of charm and + sympathy._'--SATURDAY REVIEW. + +[Illustration] + + '_A fairy book beyond reproach._'--GRAPHIC. + + '_We have nothing but praise for this collection._'--SKETCH. + + '_Grimm is always delightful, but in his present new dress he is + more delightful than ever. Mr. Gordon Browne charms us always + with his dainty pictures._'--GUARDIAN. + + '_All the illustrations are simply inimitable._' + + QUEEN. + +[Illustration: 'The Prince who was afraid of Nothing.'--_p. 216._] + + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, &. CO., LTD., LONDON + + +Illustrated by A. G. Walker + +A BOOK OF BALLAD STORIES + +Selected and Edited by + +MARY MACLEOD + +With Introduction by + +EDWARD DOWDEN + +[Illustration: + + 'Beyond it rose a castle fair + Y-built of marble stone; + The battlements were gilt with gold, + And glittered in the sun.'--_p. 129._ +] + + '_Miss Mary Macleod has succeeded admirably in keeping much of + the spirit of the originals in her prose versions of the best of + the old ballads._' + + TRUTH. + + '_Should take a high place. In this work the famous ballads have + been done into prose so skilfully, and have been so artistically + illustrated, that it forms a volume to be highly + prized_.'--STANDARD. + +[Illustration: 'She stoutly steered the stots about.'--_p._ 110.] + + +_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ + + +Illustrated by F. D. Bedford + +[Illustration: 'Sat him astride of the saddle of mutton.' _p. 126._] + +OLD-FASHIONED TALES OF LONG AGO + +Edited with Introduction by + +E. V. LUCAS + +Besides numerous black and white Illustrations, the Frontispiece and +Title-page are beautifully printed in Colours. + + '_A charming book. The one ambition of Mr. Lucas' authors is to + be interesting, and they succeed very well._'--DAILY TELEGRAPH. + + '_Beautifully printed, illustrated, and bound._'--SCHOOLMASTER. + +Tales are given from the following Popular Authors:--Thomas Day, Maria +Edgeworth, Mrs. Sherwood, Anne Letitia Barbauld, Charles and Mary +Lamb, Jacob Abbott, Alicia Catherine Mant, Caroline Barnard, Peter +Parley, Catherine Sinclair, Dr. Aiken. The authors of some of the best +tales in the volume are unknown. + +[Illustration: 'A large hole burst open in the wall.' _p. 381._] + + +_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ + +Illustrated by Gordon Browne + +[Illustration: 'And your experience makes you sad?'--_p._ 152.] + +THE SHAKESPEARE STORY BOOK + +By MARY MACLEOD + +With Introduction + +By SIDNEY LEE + + + '_Mr. Sidney Lee, a quite unimpeachable authority, strongly + recommends this new volume, for which indeed Miss Macleod's + literary reputation will commend a favourable hearing. This new + rendering has been very well done. Mr. Gordon Browne's + illustrations add another charm to a very attractive + book._'--SPECTATOR. + + '_Miss Macleod has followed the plot more closely than Mary and + Charles Lamb, and a charming book of stories is the + result._'--TRUTH + +=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= + +[Illustration: 'Some have greatness thrust upon them.'--_p._ xiv.] + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON + +Illustrated by Hugh Thomson + +TALES OF THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS + +RETOLD FROM CHAUCER AND OTHER WRITERS + +By + +F. J. HARVEY DARTON + +With Introduction + +By Dr. F. J. FURNIVALL + +[Illustration: 'The cow ran, the calf ran, and even the very hogs +trotted.'--_p._ 122.] + +=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards,= + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON + + +Illustrated by Gordon Browne + +FAIRY TALES FROM HANS ANDERSEN + +Introduction By EDWARD CLODD + +=Large Crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, fancy cloth boards.= + +[Illustration: Reduced facsimile of cover.] + + '_The illustrations leave nothing to be desired._'--STANDARD. + + '_This is really a seasonable for all Christmases._'--PUNCH. + + '_A delightful gift for children._'--TIMES OF INDIA. + +[Illustration: From 'The Ugly Duckling.' _p. 110._] + + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON + + +Illustrated by Gordon Browne + +_AN IMPROVING HISTORY FOR OLD BOYS, YOUNG BOYS, GOOD BOYS, BAD BOYS, +BIG BOYS, LITTLE BOYS, COW BOYS, AND TOM BOYS_ + +[Illustration: 'I create you General of the Commissariat.'--_p. 171._] + +THE SURPRISING ADVENTURES OF SIR TOADY LION + +WITH THOSE OF General Napoleon Smith + +By S. R. CROCKETT + + '_When we say it is one of the most delightful stories about + children we have ever read, we are still short of the mark._' + + DAILY CHRONICLE. + + '_It is distinctly the best Christmas book of the + season._'--DAILY MAIL. + + '_In this excellent book for children, which the elders will + enjoy, Mr. Crockett comes right away from kailyard into a + kingdom of obstreperous fancy, and is purely, delightfully + funny, and not too Scotch.... Mr. Gordon Browne's illustrations + are as good a treat as the story; they realise every thought and + intention of the writer, and are full of a sly and + characteristic drollery all the artist's own._'--WORLD. + +[Illustration: 'How quaint.'--_p. 375._] + +=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= + + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON + + +Illustrated by A. G. Walker + +[Illustration: Reduced Cover Design.] + + '_A very beautiful gift-book. Deeply interesting to any + intelligent child, and the beauty of the old romances will + appeal strongly to any imaginative mind, young or old._--THE + WORLD. + + '_Very well re-told ... an excellent introduction to the + treasures of the old literature._'--DAILY MAIL. + +A WONDER BOOK OF OLD ROMANCE + +By F. J. HARVEY DARTON + +CONTENTS + + WILLIAM AND THE WEREWOLF. + KING ROBERT OF SICILY. + SIR CLEGES AND THE CHERRIES. + SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT. + THE FAIR UNKNOWN. + KING HORN. + THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. + SIR DEGORÉ AND THE BROKEN SWORD. + GUY OF WARWICK. + THE ASH AND THE HAZEL. + FLORIS AND BLANCHEFLEUR. + AMYS AND AMYLION. + HAVELOR THE DANE. + +[Illustration: 'Alack, dear lion, who has done this wrong?'--_Guy of +Warwick, p. 302._] + + +_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ + + +Illustrated by Gordon Browne + +[Illustration: 'Old King Cole was a merry old soul.'--_p. 1._] + +NATIONAL RHYMES OF THE NURSERY + +[Illustration: NATIONAL RHYMES OF THE NURSERY + +WITH DRAWINGS BY GORDON BROWNE] + +With Introduction + +By GEORGE SAINTSBURY + + '_The prettiest and most complete collection of this kind that + we have seen._'--WESTMINSTER GAZETTE. + + '_It is impossible to praise the volume too highly._'--BLACK AND + WHITE. + + '_Every conceivable nursery rhyme is herein gathered together, + beautifully illustrated. The collection is certainly the most + perfect that has ever been made._'--SCHOOL GUARDIAN. + + '_Standard authority._'--TIMES. + + '_A very complete collection._' + + PALL MALL GAZETTE. + +=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, bound in art linen +boards.= + + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON + + +Illustrated by Gordon Browne + +STORIES FROM FROISSART + +By + +HENRY NEWBOLT, + +_Author of 'Admirals All,' &c._ + + '_A really fine book, and effectively illustrated. Mr. Newbolt + has done his work well, and Mr. Gordon Browne has illustrated + the book delightfully._'--OUTLOOK. + +[Illustration: '_There never was a better story-book than Froissart._' + + ATHENÆUM. +] + +[Illustration: 'The four knights view the English host.'--_p. 26._] + +=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= + + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON + + +Illustrated by Gordon Browne + +_A Child's Book, for Children, for Women, and for Men._ + +SWEETHEART TRAVELLERS + +By S. R. CROCKETT + +[Illustration: SWEETHEART TRAVELLERS S. R. CROCKETT] + + '_It is the rarest of all rarities, and veritably a child's book + for children, as well as for women and men. It is seldom, + indeed, that the reviewer has the opportunity of bestowing + unstinted praise, with the feeling that the laudation is, + nevertheless, inadequate. "Sweetheart Travellers" is instinct + with drollery; it continually strikes the softest notes of + tenderest pathos, and it must make the most hardened bachelor + feel something of the pleasures he has missed in living mateless + and childless._'--TIMES. + + '_A more delightful book for young, old, and middle aged, it is + scarcely possible to conceive._'--TRUTH. + + '_We confess to having fallen under the spell of these + delightful chronicles. The illustrations are just what was + wanted to make this one of the most attractive books about + children._' + + PALL MALL GAZETTE + +[Illustration: On the road to Conway.--_p. 64._] + +=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= + + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON + + +Illustrated by Gordon Browne + +SINTRAM & HIS COMPANIONS + +AND UNDINE + +[Illustration] + +By DE LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ + +With Introduction + +By CHARLOTTE M. YONGE + + '_The anonymous translation is the good old standard one. Vastly + superior to subsequent versions._'--TIMES. + + '_Certain to engage the sympathies of an entirely new set of + readers._'--DAILY TELEGRAPH. + + '_Nothing could be more attractive than the form in which this + excellent edition is sent forth._'--RECORD. + + '_A better present for a thoughtful lad or lass could hardly + be._'--CHURCH TIMES. + +=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= + +[Illustration: Sintram and his companions.--_From p. 139._] + + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON + + +Illustrated by F. M. Rudland + +THE HISTORY OF THE + +FAIRCHILD FAMILY + +By Mrs. SHERWOOD + +Edited with Introduction + +By MARY E. PALGRAVE + +[Illustration: _Emily & her brother & sister went to play in the +garden. p. 68_] + + '_A better gift-book is not easy to find than this pleasing + edition of a deservedly popular story._' + + DAILY NEWS. + + '_We have seen few more delightful volumes._'--RECORD. + + '"_The History of the Fairchild Family" has never appeared in a + more attractive form._' + + SCOTSMAN. + +=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= + + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON + + +Illustrated by Hugh Thomson + +TALES FROM + +MARIA EDGEWORTH + +With Introduction by AUSTIN DOBSON + +[Illustration: Waste Not, Want Not: or, Two Strings to your Bow.--_p. +191._] + + '_One of the best of the new editions that the present Christmas + has called forth. Strangers to the fascinating pen of Maria + Edgeworth could not have a better volume in which to learn what + they have been missing._'--TIMES. + + '_Exceedingly attractive._'--SPECTATOR. + + '_Nothing could be more admirably carried out._'--BOOKMAN. + +=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= + + +WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON + + +Illustrated by Gordon Browne + +[Illustration: A Chapter Heading.] + +SIR TOADY CRUSOE + +By S. R. CROCKETT + +[Illustration: '_It will thoroughly satisfy the children's most +fastidious taste._' + + Morning + Leader. + + '_The best book for children, if not the best book we have seen + this year._'--WESTMINSTER GAZETTE. + + '_We have seen nothing for a long time to equal the admirable + illustrations._'--DUNDEE COURIER. + +[Illustration: 'Watch 'em, boy!' said Dinkey.--_p. 245._] + + +_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ + + +Illustrated by F. D. Bedford + +FORGOTTEN TALES OF LONG AGO + +Edited with Introduction by + +E. V. LUCAS + +[Illustration] + +Beside numerous Black and White Illustrations, the Frontispiece and +Title-page are in Colours. + +_The Contents include:_ + +DICKY RANDOM; JEMIMA PLACID; TWO TRIALS; THE FRUITS OF DISOBEDIENCE; +THE THREE CAKES; SCOURHILL'S ADVENTURES; ELLEN AND GEORGE; THE +JOURNAL, by Priscilla Wakefield; THE BUNCH OF CHERRIES; THE LIFE AND +ADVENTURES OF LADY ANNE; CAPTAIN MURDERER, by Charles Dickens, and +many other favourite old stories, now forgotten. + + '_Is Mr. E. V. Lucas going to provide its with one of the + prettiest books of each Christmas season? For successive years + we have been delighted with his clever selection from the + child-fiction of our grandparents, and we are left like Oliver + Twist, asking for more._'--BOOKMAN. + +[Illustration: 'She cut her beautiful hair close to her head!'-_p. +162._] + + +_Large crown 8vo, printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + +Archaic and inconsistent spelling and punctuation retained. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Children of the Dawn, by Elsie Finnimore Buckley + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40476 *** |