CHAPTER IIIANIMALS IN CULTURE MYTHS

All the stories so far have reflected primitive man’s way of thinking and acting. Passing now to more developed phases of life, we are confronted in myths by such an array of animals—definite personifications of natural phenomena—that no possible ark would hold these cosmical monsters.

Now if we imagine ourselves off for a hunt for some of these animals in the mythology of people no longer primitive but with a considerable degree of culture, we shall find ourselves rewarded to the full in the myths of India. The ancient Hindoo revels in animal cosmic myths. The sky seems to be in his imagination one vast pasture land for cows and bulls, though frequently it is turned into a battle-ground because of the incursions of an evil serpent who has a predilection for carrying off cows. These tremendous dramas in the imaginative sky of the Hindoo are a magnified reflection of the state of affairs existing upon the earth. Cosmic cattle would be expected to be more glorious than mundane cattle, yet we see through these myths how important the cow was to the existence of the Hindoo.[3]To increase the number of cows, to renderthem fruitful in milk and prolific in calves, to have them well looked after, is the dream, the ideal of the ancient Hindoo. His worst enemy, therefore, is he that robs him of his cows, while his best friend would be he who rescues the cows from the robber.

The dewy moon, the dawn, the watery cloud, in fact, the entire vault of heaven which gives the benignant and quickening rain as cows give their milk, are all personified as the beneficent Cow of Abundance.

The great and awful ruler of all these cows is the God Indra, who rides in a car to which are harnessed magnificent bay steeds. Sometimes he is called a Bull and sometimes he is said to roar like a Bull.

From the hymns of the “Rig Veda,” probably three or four thousand years old, many of which were written in honor of Indra, may be gathered the characteristics of Indra and these remarkable cattle. In her cloudy aspects, this cow of the sky was called the spotted one, and was said to be the mother of the storm winds or Maruts, while Indra, who hides himself in thunder-clouds is the Bull of Bulls, invincible son of a cow that bellows like the Maruts. This terrible creature bellows and shows his strength as he sharpens his horns, who is able of himself to overthrow all peoples. His horns are the lightning, and he is sometimes said to have a thousand of them. With all these animals prancing about in the sky, there is a fine opportunity for brilliant onslaughtsupon the enemy who steals the cows. Indra with his thunder-bolts and the Maruts with their winds are the leaders on one side, while in the hostile camp will be found a horrid monster called by different names, such as Valas, Vritras, Cushnas, meaning the enemy, black one, thief, serpent, wolf, or wild boar. This awful being generally seems to throw down the gauntlet by stealing the cows of Indra and imprisoning them in a dark and dismal cavern in the clouds. Then an exciting battle follows; Indra bellows, the thunder-bolt bellows, the Maruts bellow, and ascend the rock, now by their own efforts making the sonorous stone, the rock mountain fall; now, with the iron edge of their rolling chariots violently splitting the mountain; then the valiant hero, Indra, beloved by the gods, moves the stone; he hears the cows, by aid of the Maruts he finds the cows hidden in the cavern. Furnished with an arm of stone he opens the grotto of Valas, who keeps the cows; he vanquishes, kills or pursues the thieves in battle. We may see this battle every time there is a thunder-storm, the lightning often leaps between the clouds, and the thunder roars before the rain falls, but when there comes the heavy downpour of rain, the ancient Hindoo would compare it to the refreshing milk of the cows which have been rescued by Indra.

Horses are also important animals in Hindoo myths. The Asvins, who gallop across the sky from morning till night, are sometimes called the sons of the Sun and the Dawn and sometimes they arecalled the steeds of Indra. They are described in the hymns of the “Rig Veda” as full of life, having eyes like the sun, drawing the chariot with the golden yoke, the two most rapid ones, who carry Indra as every day they carry the sun. They are as two rays of the sun, which illumine the sky with manes the color of a peacock, bridled sixty times, beneficent, winged, indefatigable, resolute destroyers of enemies.

The Hindoo deities all have animals on which they ride, called Vahans or Vehicles; thus, Indra sometimes rides an elephant, Siva, a bull, Durga, a tiger, and so on. These all share in the honors of worship accorded to their riders. These vehicles of the gods were probably once impersonations of the gods themselves, or animals into which they changed themselves as they do in the primitive myths with which we are already familiar.

The cow does not seem to have been a Vahan for any of the gods. She was too much of a goddess in her own right, shown by the fact that she was regularly worshipped every year with great ceremony.

Egypt, however, was the land where animals received the greatest reverence. We find there a complete archæological museum of mythological animals. Cats and dogs, mice and crocodiles, birds and insects—all were worshipped. So sacred did the Egyptians consider animals in general that it was a capital crime if any of them were killed. Should an Ibis or a Hawk be even accidentally killed, the unfortunateperson who happened to do it was put to death by the multitude without form of law. Even if a cat died, everybody in the house cut off his eyebrows. Nothing, not even the direst extremes of famine, could tempt an Egyptian to eat a sacred animal. They would rather devour each other than this.

But of all the animals, the ox kind received the highest honors. Bulls were occasionally sacrificed, but cows never. They were sacred to Isis, the Moon Goddess. There were special individuals of the species, however, who were looked upon with the utmost veneration. They were called Apis and Mnevis. Apis was a black bull, but had a white star on his forehead, the figure of an eagle on his back, a crescent on his right side, with a knot under his tongue, resembling the Scarabeus or sacred beetle. Apis is described as living twenty-five years, when he jumped into a well or into the river Nile. Upon the discovery of a new Apis the Egyptians celebrated a joyful festival.

According to an ancient account, as soon as a report had been spread abroad that the Egyptian god had been brought to light, certain sacred scribes, who were well versed in the mystic marks, which they had learned by tradition, approached the divine calf. They fed it during four months with milk, in a house that fronted the rising sun. After this the sacred scribes carried him in a vessel prepared for the purpose to Memphis, where he had a convenient and delightful abode, with pleasure grounds andample space for salubrious exercise. Companions were provided for him. He drank from a well or fountain of clean water.

Dances and festivities and joyful assemblies were held in honor of this animal at the rising of the Nile, and the man from whose flock the divine beast sprang was the happiest of mortals and was looked upon with admiration by all the people. According to some, Apis was dedicated to Isis or the Moon. Next to Apis the highest honors were paid to the sacred bull of Heliopolis, called Mnevis. This bull was black and was dedicated to Osiris. He was kept in a stable in the Temple of the Sun and was worshipped as a god. The warring principle in nature, Typhon, was identified with various hideous animals, such as the crocodile and hippopotamus. The most sacred of beetles was the Scarabeus, the symbol either of the sun or immortality. Even the higher gods were frequently represented as animals, or in part animals, while to those gods imaged in human form, like Osiris and Isis, animals were sacred. There was also an important bird, which was itself mythical, called the Phœnix. This wonderful bird was said to rise from time to time out of its own ashes.

Animals occupy a somewhat different position in Norse mythology. They are also survivals, very likely, from an earlier stage of life when animals were worshipped, but when we meet with them in the Norse myths they have become symbols of the various ideas of mankind in regard to the mind andspirit, and no longer appear simply as personifications of the events of nature like Indra and the cows in Hindoo mythology.

The Norse gods appear galloping into view on their wonderful steeds across the rainbow bridge, Bifrost, from Heaven to Earth. Their names are very significant: Odin rides Sleipner; Heimdal, Goldtop. The other horses are Glad (Bright), Gyller (Gilder), Gler (the Shining One), Skeidbrimer (Fleetfoot), Silfrintop (Silvertop), Siner (Sinews), Gisl (the Sunbeam), Falhofner (Palehoof), Letfet (Lightfoot).

Thor, the thunderer, unlike Indra, who often drove two bay steeds, had no horse upon which to ride over the rainbow bridge. He would destroy it with his thunder-bolts, so he had to wade through three rivers every day in order to reach the council of the gods. Odin’s horse, Sleipner, is the most wonderful—a genuine cosmic animal, with eight legs that symbolize the eight winds of heaven.

The maiden Sol drove two gentle and beautiful steeds which were harnessed to the car of the sun. She drove in great haste, for she as well as her brother, who watches over the moon, are pursued by two wolves, by which is probably meant eclipses of the sun and moon. Day and Night also drive round the sky after each other. Night first with his steed Rine-fax. Every morning, as he ends his course, Rine-fax bedews the earth with the foam from his bit. Then Day follows with her steed, Shining-fax, from whose mane all the sky and earth glisten. The god Frey rides on a boar named Golden-bristle, andhis sister, Freyja, the goddess of love, is drawn by two cats.

The Midgard serpent or the worm which supported the earth with its tail in its mouth, is another most interesting mythical animal, whose story will be found in this chapter.

Finally, there is a Norse cow, still more remarkable than the Hindoo cow. She was made of frozen vapor, and four rivers of milk ran from her and fed the giant Yiner, or the earth. It is easy to recognize these rivers of milk as mountain streams of melted snow. This poor cow had only rime stones to live on, which she licked because of the salt. After she had licked them for some time, two magical, godlike beings sprang out of the stones and became the parents of Odin. The name of this strange cow was Audhumbla.

In the Norse Heaven, Valhalla, there are two more strange animals. The food of the Gods of Valhalla, Mead, is supplied by the milk of a she-goat who feeds upon the leaves of an extraordinary tree. Upon this same tree feeds a stag, and from his antlers fall so many drops of dew that water is supplied to thirty-six rivers, twelve of which flow to the abodes of the gods, twelve to the abodes of men, and twelve to Niflheim.

Fenris, the wolf, is another important animal who typifies evil.

Turning now to Greek mythology, we find that animals, on the whole, play a subordinate part. Animals are sacrificed to the gods of Greece, but theyare not often worshipped. Many of the gods have more than one animal sacred to them or sacrificed to them in their worship, and very likely some of these animals, as in Indian mythology, were originally worshipped. When the ideas of early mankind once began to develop it would soon occur to them that human beings would be better impersonations for their gods than animals, yet the animals, once having been sacred, it would be very difficult to banish them altogether, hence they remained in the more developed myths as animals sacred to gods in human form. Greek myths, too, abound in transformations into animal form, Zeus (Roman name Jupiter or Jove), the ruling god of heaven and earth, being especially given to appearing on earth in the form of some animal. Gods of the earth and sea were also often represented as half man, half animal, the most famous of these being Pan, the god of the woods, who was half man, half goat, and the mermaids, who had the bodies of women with fishes’ tails. Though not so prominent as in India, the sky is the pasture land for flocks and herds in Greece, as you will see illustrated in the story of Odysseus’s meeting with them. There are animals, also, which talk, like the celebrated steeds of Achilles, described in the “Iliad.” In one place they are pictured as weeping when they saw the Greek hero Patroclus slain. As Pope translates this affecting scene:

“Along their faceThe big round drops cours’d down with silent paceConglobing on the dust. Their manes that lateCircled their arched necks and waved in stateTrailed on the dust beneath the yoke, were spread,And prone to earth was hung their languid head.”

“Along their face

The big round drops cours’d down with silent pace

Conglobing on the dust. Their manes that late

Circled their arched necks and waved in state

Trailed on the dust beneath the yoke, were spread,

And prone to earth was hung their languid head.”

But even more marvellous was the time when Xanthus broke into speech and warned his master of his approaching doom. It is quite in the manner of an animal in a savage myth, but in the days of Homer’s “Iliad” thought had advanced so far among the Greeks that the speech of this horse was not regarded as a perfectly natural event as it would be in a savage myth. It was Juno, the goddess, who willed that Xanthus should break eternal silence and portentous speak. Achilles addresses his horses, and Xanthus answers:

“Xanthus and Balius! of Podarges’ strain;(Unless ye boast that heavenly race in vain)Be swift, be mindful of the load ye bearAnd learn to make your master more your care:Through falling squadrons bear my slaughtering sword,Nor, as ye left Patroclus, leave your lord.”The generous Xanthus, as the words he said,Seemed sensible of woe, and droop’d his head:Trembling he stood before the golden wain,And bow’d to dust the honors of his mane;When, strange to tell! (so Juno will’d) he brokeEternal silence, and portentous spoke:“Achilles! yes! this day at least we bearThy rage in safety through the files of war:But come it will, the fatal time must come,Not ours the fault, but God decrees thy doom.Not through our crime, or slowness in the course,Tell thy Patroclus, but by heavenly force:The bright far-shooting god who gilds the day(Confess’d we saw him) tore his arms away.No: could our swiftness o’er the winds prevail,Or beat the pinions of the western gale,All were in vain: the fates thy death demand,Due to a mortal and immortal hand.’Then ceas’d forever, by the Furies tied,This fateful voice. Th’ intrepid chief repliedWith unabated rage: ‘So let it be!Portents and prodigies are lost on me.’”

“Xanthus and Balius! of Podarges’ strain;

(Unless ye boast that heavenly race in vain)

Be swift, be mindful of the load ye bear

And learn to make your master more your care:

Through falling squadrons bear my slaughtering sword,

Nor, as ye left Patroclus, leave your lord.”

The generous Xanthus, as the words he said,

Seemed sensible of woe, and droop’d his head:

Trembling he stood before the golden wain,

And bow’d to dust the honors of his mane;

When, strange to tell! (so Juno will’d) he broke

Eternal silence, and portentous spoke:

“Achilles! yes! this day at least we bear

Thy rage in safety through the files of war:

But come it will, the fatal time must come,

Not ours the fault, but God decrees thy doom.

Not through our crime, or slowness in the course,

Tell thy Patroclus, but by heavenly force:

The bright far-shooting god who gilds the day

(Confess’d we saw him) tore his arms away.

No: could our swiftness o’er the winds prevail,

Or beat the pinions of the western gale,

All were in vain: the fates thy death demand,

Due to a mortal and immortal hand.’

Then ceas’d forever, by the Furies tied,

This fateful voice. Th’ intrepid chief replied

With unabated rage: ‘So let it be!

Portents and prodigies are lost on me.’”

Zeus.From Pompeii.

In Pegasus, the winged steed of the Nine Muses, we have what might be called the prize horse of all mythology. The old Greek writer Hesiod says he was born near the springs of Ocean. And he, indeed, winging his flight away, left Earth, the mother of flocks, and came to the immortals; in Jove’s house he dwells, bearing to counsellor Jove thunder and lightning. This looks very much as if he began life as a personification of a natural phenomenon, like the Hindoo Asvins and the Norse Sleipner. But he was destined to a more glorious career than any of them. The goddess of wisdom, Athēne, caught him and tamed him, and he became the symbol of the imagination in its highest flights into the region of poetic aspiration and inspiration, a fitting climax to an idea, going back to the very fountains of the imagination which bubbled up in that early stage of life when animals as well as men were thought to be endowed with spirit.

In the two hymns following, one from the most ancient of Hindoo books, the “Rig Veda,” and one from a still more ancient Egyptian book called “TheBook of the Dead,” there is quite a contrast, though they both represent myths in the highly developed religious form of hymns or songs to the gods. The Hindoo song sings the praises of Indra, while the Egyptian song is a prayer. Rā, who is mentioned, was the God of the Sun in Egypt.

Instead of driving steeds as many other sun-gods did, he was said to ride in a boat. But according to this hymn, there were four sacred apes in the boat, to whom the ancient Egyptians offered prayers as they did to the sacred bulls Apis and Mnevis.

(From the “Rig Veda”)

I will declare the manly deeds of Indra, the first that he achieved, the thunder-wielder.He slew the dragon, then disclosed the waters, and cleft the channels of the mountain torrents.He slew the dragon lying on the mountain; his heavenly bolt of thunder Twashtar fashioned.Like lowing kine in rapid flow descending the waters glided downward to the ocean.Impetuous as a bull, he chose the Soma, and quaffed in threefold sacrifice the juices.Maghavan grasped the thunder for his weapon, and smote to death this first born of the dragons.When, Indra, thou hadst slain the dragon’s first born, and overcome the charms of the enchanters,Then, giving life to sun and dawn and heaven, thou foundest not one foe to stand against thee.Indra with his own great and deadly thunder smote into pieces Vritra worst of Vritras....They who pervaded earth’s extremest limit subdued not with their charms the wealth-bestower:Indra, the bull, made his ally the thunder, and with its light milked cows from out the darkness.The waters flowed according to their nature; he mid the navigable streams waxed mighty.Then, Indra, with his spirit concentrated, smote him forever with his strongest weapon.Indra broke through Ilîbisa’s strong castles, and Sushna with his horn he cut to pieces:Thou, Maghavan, for all his might and swiftness, slewest thy fighting foeman with thy thunder.Fierce on his enemies fell Indra’s weapon: with his sharp horn he rent their towns in pieces.He with his thunderbolt dealt blows on Vritra, and conquered, executing all his purpose.

I will declare the manly deeds of Indra, the first that he achieved, the thunder-wielder.

He slew the dragon, then disclosed the waters, and cleft the channels of the mountain torrents.

He slew the dragon lying on the mountain; his heavenly bolt of thunder Twashtar fashioned.

Like lowing kine in rapid flow descending the waters glided downward to the ocean.

Impetuous as a bull, he chose the Soma, and quaffed in threefold sacrifice the juices.

Maghavan grasped the thunder for his weapon, and smote to death this first born of the dragons.

When, Indra, thou hadst slain the dragon’s first born, and overcome the charms of the enchanters,

Then, giving life to sun and dawn and heaven, thou foundest not one foe to stand against thee.

Indra with his own great and deadly thunder smote into pieces Vritra worst of Vritras.

...

They who pervaded earth’s extremest limit subdued not with their charms the wealth-bestower:

Indra, the bull, made his ally the thunder, and with its light milked cows from out the darkness.

The waters flowed according to their nature; he mid the navigable streams waxed mighty.

Then, Indra, with his spirit concentrated, smote him forever with his strongest weapon.

Indra broke through Ilîbisa’s strong castles, and Sushna with his horn he cut to pieces:

Thou, Maghavan, for all his might and swiftness, slewest thy fighting foeman with thy thunder.

Fierce on his enemies fell Indra’s weapon: with his sharp horn he rent their towns in pieces.

He with his thunderbolt dealt blows on Vritra, and conquered, executing all his purpose.

(From the “Book of the Dead”)

“Hail, ye four apes, who sit in the bows of the boat of Rā, who convey right and truth to Neb-er-tchu, who sit in judgment on my misery and on my strength, who make the gods to rest contented by means of the flame of your mouths, who offer holy offerings to the gods and sepulchral meals to the Khus who live upon right and truth, and who feed upon right and truth of heart, who are without deceit and fraud and to whom wickedness is an abomination, do ye away with my evil deeds, and put ye away my sin which deserved stripes upon earth, and destroy ye any evil whatsoever that belongeth unto me, and let there be no obstacle whatsoever on my part toward you. O, grant ye I may make myway through the underworld. O, grant that there may be given to me cakes and ale and sweetmeats, even as they are given to the living Khus.”

The four apes make answer, saying, “Come then, for we have done away with thy wickedness, and we have put away thy sin, along with the sin deserving of stripes which thou didst commit upon earth, and we have destroyed all the evil which belonged to thee upon earth. There shall be given unto thee cakes and ale and sweetmeats, and thou shalt come forth and thou shalt enter in at thy desire, even as do those Khus who are favored of the god, and thou shalt be proclaimed each day in the horizon.”

(From the Norse Eddas)

This huge beast was one of the children of Loke, a troublesome, mischievous giant, who forced himself upon the society of the gods. His delight was to get them into all sorts of difficulties, and then by his cunning, wit and skill to extricate them. The gods knew that as the Midgard serpent grew larger he would bring untold troubles upon gods and men. So Odin thought the best way to dispose of him would be to throw him into the deep ocean which surrounds the earth. He did so, but the serpent has grown to such an enormous size, thatholding his tail in his mouth, he encircles the whole earth. One time the god Thor went with his servant Loke to the land of the giants. After some adventures they came to a city, standing in the middle of a plain. It was so lofty that they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on their shoulders in order to see the top of it. On arriving, they entered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with the door wide open, they went in and found a number of men of prodigious stature sitting on benches in the hall. Going further they came before the king, Utgard-Loke, whom they saluted with great respect. The king, regarding them with a scornful smile, said, “If I do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must be the god Thor.” Utgard-Loke then asked Thor and his companions in what feats they excelled, for he said, “No one is permitted to remain here who does not, in some feat or other, excel all other men.” Various feats of strength were tried, then Utgard-Loke said, “We have a very trifling game here. It consists merely in lifting my cat from the ground; nor should I have dared to mention such a feat to the great Thor if I had not already observed that thou art by no means what we took thee for.”

As he finished a large gray cat sprang on the hall floor. Thor put his hand under the cat, and did his utmost to raise him from the floor, but the cat, bending his back, had, notwithstanding all Thor’s efforts, only one of his feet lifted up, seeing which Thor made no further attempt.

“This trial has turned out,” said Utgard-Loke, “just as I imagined it would. The cat is large, but Thor is little in comparison with our men.”

The next morning, at break of day, Thor and his companions dressed themselves and prepared for their departure. Utgard-Loke ordered a table to be set for them, on which there was no lack of victuals or drink. After the repast, Utgard-Loke led them to the gate of the city, and on parting asked Thor how he thought his journey had turned out, and whether he had met with any men stronger than himself. Thor told him that he could not deny but that he had brought great shame on himself. “And what grieves me most,” he added, “is that thou wilt call me a person of little worth.”

“Nay,” said Utgard-Loke, “it behooves me to tell thee the truth, now thou art out of the city, which so long as I live and have my way thou shalt never enter again. And, by my troth, had I known beforehand that thou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst have brought me so near to a great mishap, I would not have suffered thee to enter this time. Know then that I have all along deceived thee by my illusions.” He then complimented Thor upon each feat he had performed, and as for the cat, he said, “Thou hast indeed performed a wonderful feat by lifting up the cat, and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that one of his paws was off the floor we were all of us terror-stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality the Midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and he was so stretched bythee that he was barely long enough to enclose it between his head and tail.”

The wolf Fenris was also one of Loke’s children, and gave the gods a great deal of trouble until they succeeded in chaining him. He broke the strongest fetters as if they were made of cobwebs. Finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountain spirits, who made for them the chain called Gleipnir. It was fashioned of various things: the noise made by the footfall of a cat, the roots of stones, the breath of fishes, the nerves of bears, and the spittle of birds. When finished it was as smooth and soft as a silken string. But when the gods asked the wolf to suffer himself to be bound with this apparently slight ribbon he suspected their design, fearing that it was made by enchantment. He therefore only consented to be bound with it on condition that one of the gods put his hand in his (Fenris’s) mouth as a pledge that the band was to be removed again. Tyr alone had sufficient courage to do this. But when the wolf found that he could not break his fetters and that the gods would not release him, he bit off Tyr’s hand. Tyr, consequently, has ever since remained one-handed.

(Greek: After Ovid)

Phaëton was the son of Apollo and the earthly nymph Clymene. One day Epaphus, the son of Zeus and Io, scoffed at the idea of Phaëton’s beingthe son of a god. Phaëton complained of the insult to his mother, Clymene. She sent him to Phœbus Apollo to ask for himself whether he had not been truly informed concerning his parentage. Gladly Phaëton travelled toward the regions of the sunrise, and gained at last the palace of the Sun. He approached his father’s presence, but stopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear. Phœbus Apollo, arrayed in purple, sat on a throne that glittered with diamonds. Beside him stood the Day, the Month, the Year, the Hours and the Seasons. Surrounded by these attendants, the Sun beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and splendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand. The youth replied, “Oh, light of the boundless world, Phœbus, my father—give me some proof, I beseech thee, by which I may be known as thine!” He ceased. His father, laying aside the beams that shone around his head, bade him approach, embraced him, and swore by the river Styx that whatever proof he might ask should be granted. Phaëton immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariot of the Sun. The father repented of his promise, and tried to dissuade the boy by telling him the perils of the undertaking. “None but myself,” he said, “may drive the flaming car of day. Not even Zeus, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunder-bolts. The first part of the way is steep, and such as the horses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb; the middle part is high up in the heavens, whence I myself can scarcely, withoutalarm, look down and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath me. The last part of the road descends rapidly and requires most careful driving. Tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for me lest I should fall headlong. Add to this that the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with it. Couldst thou keep thy course, while the sphere revolved beneath thee? The road, also, is through the midst of frightful monsters. Thou must pass by the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer, and near the Lion’s jaws, and where the Scorpion stretches its arms in one direction and the Crab in another. Nor wilt thou find it easy to guide these horses, with their breasts full of fire that they breathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. Beware, my son, lest I be the donor of a fatal gift; recall the request while yet thou canst.” He ended; but the youth rejected admonition, and held to his demand. So, having resisted as long as he might, Phœbus at last led the way to where stood the lofty chariot.

It was of gold, the gift of Vulcan: the axle of gold, the pole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. Along the seat were rows of chrysolites and diamonds reflecting the brightness of the sun. While the daring youth gazed in admiration, the Dawn threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the pathway strewn with roses. The stars withdrew, marshalled by the Day Star, which last of all retired also. The father when he saw the earth beginning to glow and the moon preparing to retire,ordered the Hours to harness up the horses. They led forth from the lofty stalls the steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins. Then the father, smearing the face of his son with a powerful unguent, made him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. He set the rays on the lad’s head, and, with a foreboding sigh, told him to spare the whip and hold tight the reins; not to take the straight road between the five circles, but to turn off to the left; to keep within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern and the southern alike; finally, to keep in the well-worn ruts, and to drive neither too high nor too low, for the middle course was safest and best.

Forthwith the agile youth sprang into the chariot, stood erect and grasped the reins with delight, pouring out thanks to his reluctant parent. But the steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter than usual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither and thither on the sea, the chariot, without its accustomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. The horses rushed headlong and left the travelled road. Then for the first time the Great and Little Bears were scorched with heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the water; and the serpent which lies coiled round the north pole, torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage revive. Boötes, they say, fled away though encumbered with his plough and unused to rapid motion.

When hapless Phaëton looked down upon theearth, now spreading in vast extent beneath him, he grew pale, and his knees shook with terror. He lost his self-command, and knew not whether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgot the names of the horses. But when he beheld the monstrous forms scattered over the surface of heaven—the Scorpion extending two great arms, his tail, and his crooked claws over the space of two signs of the Zodiac—when the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and menacing with fangs, his courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands. The horses, unrestrained, went off into unknown regions of the sky, in among the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down almost to the earth. The Moon saw with astonishment her brother’s chariot running beneath her own. The clouds began to smoke, the forest-clad mountains burned—Athos and Taurus and Timolus and Œti; Ida, once celebrated for fountains; the Muses’ Mountain, Helicon and Hæmus; Ætna, with fires within and without, and Parnassus, with his two peaks, and Rhodope, forced at last to part with his snowy crown. The cold climate was no protection to Scythia; Caucasus burned, and Ossa and Pindus, and, greater than both, Olympus,—the Alps high in air, and the Apennines crowned with clouds.

Phaëton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat intolerable. Then, too, it is said, the people of Ethiopia became black because the blood was called by the heat so suddenly to the surface; and the Libyan Desert was dried up to the condition in whichit remains to this day. The nymphs of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks; Tanaïs smoked, and Caïcus, Xanthus and Mæander; Babylonian Euphrates and Ganges, Tagus with golden sands, and Caÿster where the swans resort. Nile fled away and hid his head in the desert, and there it still remains, concealed. Where he used to discharge his waters through seven mouths into the sea, seven dry channels alone remained. The earth cracked open and through the chinks light broke into Tartarus, and frightened the king of shadows and his queen. The sea shrank up. Even Nereus and his wife Doris, with the Nereïds, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for refuge.

Thrice Neptune essayed to raise his head above the surface, and thrice he was driven back by the heat. Earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head and shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven, and with husky voice prayed Zeus, if it were his will that she should perish by fire, to end her agony at once by his thunderbolts, or else to consider his own heaven, how both the poles were smoking that sustained his palace, and that all must fall if they were destroyed.

Earth, overcome with heat and thirst, could say no more. Then Zeus, calling the gods to witness that all was lost unless some speedy remedy were applied, thundered, brandished a lightning-bolt in his right hand, launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at the same moment from his seatand from existence. Phaëton with his hair on fire, fell headlong like a shooting star which marks the heavens with its brightness as it falls, and Eridanus, the great river, received him and cooled his burning frame. His sisters, the Heliades, as they lamented his fate, were turned into poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears, which continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into the stream.

(Greek: From the “Odyssey”)

When Odysseus (called also Ulysses) one of the heroes of the Trojan war, was returning to his home in Ithaca, he had many adventures and suffered many hardships which caused him to be years making the voyage from Troy to Ithaca. One of these adventures was his visit to the Isle of the Sun, about which he had been warned by the goddess Circè. Odysseus himself tells how the ship in which he and his comrades were embarked entered the great deep and reached the Isle Æacea, where the Morning, child of Dawn, abides and holds her dances, and the Sun goes up from the earth. There they landed, and drew their galley up on the beach. After disembarking, they all lay down to sleep beside the sea and waited for the holy Moon to rise.

As soon as Circè, for this was the island wherethis goddess dwelt, heard that Odysseus and his comrades were there, she quickly attired herself and came down to the beach with her maids who followed, bringing bread and store of meats and generous wines. Then the wise goddess, standing in their midst, spake to them and said, “Take food and wine, and hold a feast to-day, and with the dawn of morning you shall sail away. I will show you the way, and point out to you all its dangers, so that you may not come to any harm through following false counsels, either on the land or on the water.” The confiding minds of Odysseus and his men were easily swayed by her counsels. So all that day they sat and banqueted upon the abundant meats and generous wines. And when the sun went down and darkness came, the crew lay down to sleep beside the moorings of the ship, and Circè, taking the hand of Odysseus, led him apart, made him sit down, and sitting before him made him tell all that he had seen.

Then she addressed him, saying, “Thus far all is well; now needfully attend to what I say, and may some deity help you to remember it.” She told him first about the Sirens’ haunt, which it would be difficult for him to pass, and then about the horrible rocks where Scylla and Charybdis dwelt, giving him instructions how to meet these dangers; then continuing she said, “In your voyage you will reach the Isle Trinacria, where in pastures belonging to the Sun many beeves and fatling sheep of his are fed—seven herds of oxen, and as many flocks of sheep, and fifty in each flock and herd. They neverincrease and they never die, and they are tended by two shepherdesses, goddesses with redundant locks. One is named Lampetia, the other Phaëthusa. If your desire be to return to Ithaca, your home, only leave these flocks and herds unharmed, and you and all your men will return, though after many toils. But if you rashly harm them, I foretell destruction to your ship and all its crew; and if you should escape, yet your return will be late and in sorrow, with all your comrades lost.”

As she finished speaking, the Morning on her golden throne looked forth; the glorious goddess went her way into the isle, and Odysseus went to his ship and bade the men embark and cast the hawsers loose. Straightway they all went on board, and duly manned the benches, smiting the hoary waters with their oars. Then Circè, amber-haired, the mighty goddess of the musical voice, sent a fair wind behind the dark-prowed ship, which gayly bore them company and filled the sails.

Odysseus then told the crew all that Circè, the amber-haired, had said to him. He warns them of the dangers to come, and how they may be escaped, first the Sirens, and the rocks where Scylla and Charybdis dwelt. They escaped these dangers, and approached the pleasant island of the Sun, where the oxen with broad, beautiful foreheads were grazing, and flocks of sheep, the fatlings of the god who makes the round of heaven. While yet at sea, Odysseus heard from his ship the lowing of the herds in the stables and the bleating of the flocks, andwhen he heard them he immediately thought of the words the blind seer, Tiresias of Thebes, had said to him, and those of Circè, by whom he had often been warned to shun the island of the god whose light is sweet to all. Then with a sorrowing heart he said to his companions, “My comrades, sufferers as you are, listen to me, and I shall disclose the oracles which lately Tiresias and Circè gave me. The goddess earnestly admonished me not to approach the island of the Sun, whose light is sweet to all, for there she said some great misfortune lay in wait for us. Now let us speed the ship and pass the isle.”

The hearts of the men were broken by this speech, and one of them, Eurylochus, bitterly replied, “How austere you are, Odysseus. You are exceedingly strong and no labor tires your limbs; they must be made of iron, since by your will you deny to us, overcome with toil and sleeplessness, the chance to tread the land again, and make a generous banquet in that island amid the waters. You would have us sail into the swiftly coming night, and stray far from the island, through the misty sea. By night the mighty winds spring up that make a wreck of ships; and how can one escape destruction, should a sudden hurricane rise from the south or the hard-blowing west, causing a ship to founder in the dark in spite of all the sovereign gods? Let us obey the dark-browed Night, and take our evening meal, remaining close beside our gallant bark, and go on board again when morning breaks, and enter the wide sea.” The others all approved, and Odysseusknew at once that some god was meditating evil against them, and he replied, “Eurylochus, you force me to your will since I am only one. Now all of you, bind yourselves to me firmly, by an oath, that if you here shall meet a herd of beeves or flock of sheep, you will not dare to slay a single ox or sheep, but feed contented on the stores that Circè gave.” The crew swore as Odysseus asked, and when the solemn oath was taken they brought the galley to land and moored it in a winding creek, beside a fountain of sweet water. They then stepped from the deck and made ready their evening meal. They ate and drank until their thirst and hunger were appeased, and then they thought of those whom Scylla had snatched from the galley’s deck and devoured, and wept until sleep stole softly over them amid their tears. Now came the third part of the night; the stars were sinking, when the cloud-compeller, Jove, sent forth a violent wind with eddying gusts, and covered both the earth and the sky with clouds, and darkness fell from heaven. When morning came, the rosy-fingered daughter of the Dawn, they drew the ship into a spacious bay. The home of the nymphs was there, and there they saw the smooth fair places where they danced. Then Odysseus called a council of his men and said to them, “My friends, in our good ship are food and drink; we must abstain from these beeves, lest we be made to suffer, for these herds and these fair flocks are sacred to a dreaded god, the Sun—the all-beholding and all-hearing Sun.” All were swayed fulleasily by what he said. Now for an entire month the gales blew from the south, and after that no wind save east and south. As long as they had the bread and wine Circè had given them, the men spared the beeves, moved by the love of life. But when the stores on board the galley were consumed, they roamed the island in their need, and sought for prey. They snared with baited hooks the fish and birds—whatever came to hand—till they were gaunt with famine.

Meanwhile, Odysseus withdrew apart within the isle to supplicate the gods, hoping one of them might reveal the way of his return. As he strayed into the land apart from all the rest, he found a sheltered nook where no wind came, and prayed with washed hands to all the gods who dwelt in heaven. At last he fell into a soft slumber. But Eurylochus, in the meantime, was beguiling the men with fatal counsels.

“Hear, my companions, sufferers as you are, the words that I shall speak. All modes of death are hateful to the wretched race of men; but this of hunger, thus to meet our fate, is the most fearful. Let us drive apart the best of all the oxen of the Sun, and sacrifice them to the immortal ones, who dwell in the broad heaven. And if we come to Ithaca, our country, we will there build to the Sun, whose path is o’er our heads, a sumptuous temple, and endow its shrine with many gifts and rare. But if it be his will, approved by all the other gods, to sink our bark in anger, for the sake of these high-hornedoxen, I should choose sooner to gasp my life away amid the billows of the deep, than pine to death by famine in this melancholy isle.”

The crew approved of this, and now from the neighboring herd they drove the best of all the beeves; for near the dark-prowed ship the fair broad-fronted herd with crooked horns was feeding. The crew stood round the victims and, offering their petitions to the gods, held tender oak leaves in their hands, just plucked from a tall tree, for in the good ship’s hold there was left no more white barley. When they had prayed, and slain and dressed the beeves, they hewed away the thighs and covered them with double folds of skin, and laid raw slices over these. They had no wine to pour in sacrifice upon the burning flesh, so they poured water instead, and roasted all the entrails thus. When the thighs were thoroughly consumed, the entrails tasted, all the rest was carved into small portions, and transfixed with spits.

Just at this moment Odysseus awoke, and hurrying to the shore and his good ship, he perceived the savory steam from the burnt offering, and sorrowfully, then, he called upon the ever-living gods:—“O Father Jove, and all ye blessed gods, who live forever, ’twas a cruel sleep in which ye lulled me to my grievous harm. My comrades here have done a fearful wrong.”

Then Lampetia, of the trailing robes, flew in haste to the Sun, who journeys round the earth, to tell him that the men had slain his beeves.

In anger then he thus addressed the gods:

“O Father Jove, and all ye blessed gods who never die, avenge the wrong I bear upon the comrades of Laertes’ son, Odysseus, who have foully slain my beeves, in which I took delight whene’er I rose into the starry heaven, and when again I sank from heaven to earth. If they make not large amends for this great wrong, I shall go down to Hades, there to shine among the dead.”

And cloud-compelling Zeus replied: “Still shine, O Sun! among the deathless gods and mortal men, upon the nourishing earth. Soon will I cleave with a white thunder-bolt their galley in the midst of a black sea.”

When Odysseus came to the ship beside the sea, he spoke to them all sternly, man after man, yet he could think of no redress. The beeves were dead, and now the gods amazed them with prodigies. The skins moved and crawled, the flesh, both raw and roasted on the spits, lowed with the voice of oxen. Six whole days the men feasted, taking from the herd the Sun’s best oxen. When Jove brought the seventh day, the tempest ceased; the wind fell, and they straightway went on board. They set the mast upright, and, spreading the white sails, they ventured on the great wide sea again.

When they had left the isle and there appeared no other land, but only sea and sky, the son of Saturn (Jove) caused a lurid cloud to gather o’er the galley, and to cast its darkness on the ship. Not long the ship ran onward, ere the furious west wind rose andblew a hurricane. A strong blast snapped both ropes that held the mast; the mast fell back; the tackle dropped entangled to the hold; the mast in falling on the galley’s stem, dashed on the pilot’s head and crushed the bones, and from the deck he plunged like one who dives into the deep. His gallant spirit left the limbs at once. Jove thundered from on high, and sent a thunder-bolt into the ship, that, quaking with the fearful blow, and filled with stifling sulphur, shook the men off into the deep. They floated round the ship like sea mews; Jupiter had cut them off from their return.

Odysseus moved from place to place, still in the ship, until the tempest’s force parted the sides and keel. The naked keel was swept before the waves. The mast had snapped just at the base, but round it was a thong made of a bullock’s hide. With this Odysseus bound the mast and keel together. He took his seat upon them and the wild winds bore him on.

(Greek: After Ovid)

There was once a beautiful maiden, named Arachne, who was so accomplished in the arts of carding and spinning, of weaving and embroidery, that the nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains to come and gaze upon her work. It was not only beautiful when it was done, but beautiful also in the doing. To watch her one would have said that Athēne herself had taught her. But thisshe denied, and could not bear to be thought even a pupil of a goddess. “Let Athēne try her skill with mine,” she said; “if beaten I will pay the penalty.”

Athēne heard this and was much displeased. Assuming the form of an old woman, she appeared to Arachne, and kindly advised her to challenge her fellow mortals if she would, but at once to ask forgiveness of the goddess. Arachne bade the old dame to keep her counsel for others. “I am not afraid of the goddess. Let her try her skill if she dare venture.” “She comes,” said Athēne, and dropping her disguise stood confessed. The nymphs bent low in homage, and all the bystanders paid reverence. Arachne alone was unterrified. A sudden color dyed her cheeks, and then she grew pale; but she stood to her resolve, and rushed on her fate. They proceed to the contest. Each takes her station and attaches the web to the beam. Then the slender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. The reed with its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place, and compacts the web. Wool of Tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the eye. And the effect is like the bow whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed by sunbeams reflected from the shower, in which, when the colors meet, they seem as one, but at a little distance from the point of contact are wholly different.

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