Terrible was the rage of the Gorgon sisters when they woke up from their sleep and saw that the doom of Medusa had been accomplished. The snakes hissed as they rose in knotted clusters round their heads, and the Gorgons gnashed their teeth in fury, not for any love of the mortal maiden whose woes were ended, but because a child of weak and toiling men had dared to approach the daughters of Phorkos and Keto. Swifter than the eagles they sped from their gloomy cave, but they sought in vain to find Perseus, for the helmet of Hades was on his head, and the sandals of the nymphs were bearing him through the air like a dream. Onwards he went, not knowing whither he was borne, for he saw but dimly through the pale yellow light which brooded on the Gorgon land everlastingly; but presently he heard a groan as from one in mortal pain, and before him he beheld a giant form, on whose head rested the pillars of the heaven, and he heard a voice, which said, "Hast thou slain the Gorgon Medusa, child of man, and art thou come to rid me of my long woe?Look on me, for I am Atlas, who rose up with the Titans against the power of Zeus, when Prometheus fought on his side; and of old time have I known that for me is no hope of rest till a mortal man should bring hither the Gorgon head which can turn all living things to stone. For so was it shown to me from Zeus, when he made me bow down beneath the weight of the brazen heaven. Yet, if thou hast slain Medusa, Zeus hath been more merciful to me than to Prometheus who was his friend, for he lies nailed on the rugged crags of Caucasus, and only thy child in the third generation shall scare away the vulture which gnaws his heart, and set the Titan free. But hasten now, Perseus, and let me look on the Gorgon's face, for the agony of my labor is well nigh greater than I can bear." So Perseus hearkened to the words of Atlas, and he unveiled before him the dead face of Medusa. Eagerly he gazed for a moment on the changeless countenance, as though beneath the blackness of great horror he could yet see the wreck of her ancient beauty and pitied her for her hopeless woe. But in an instant the straining eyes were closed, the heaving breast was still, the limbs which trembled with the weight of heaven were still and cold, and it seemed to Perseus, as he rose again into the pale yellow air, that the gray hairs which streamed from the giant's head were like the snow which rests on the peaks of the great mountain, and that in place of the trembling limbs he saw only the rents and clefts on a rough hill-side.
Onward yet and higher he sped, he knew not whither, on the golden sandals, till from the murky glare of the Gorgon land he passed into a soft and tender light, in which all things wore the colors of a dream. It was not the light of sun or moon, for in that land was neither day nor night. No breeze wafted the light clouds of morning through the sky, or stirred the leaves of the forest trees where the golden fruits glistened the whole year round, but from beneath rose the echoes of sweet music, ashe glided gently down to the earth. Then he took the helmet of Hades from off his head, and asked the people whom he met the name of this happy land, and they said, "We dwell where the icy breath of Boreas can not chill the air or wither our fruits, therefore is our land called the garden of the Hyperboreans." There, for a while, Perseus rested from his toil, and all day long he saw the dances of happy maidens fair as Hebe and Harmonia, and he shared the rich banquets at which the people of the land feasted with wreaths of laurel twined around their head. There he rested in a deep peace, for no sound of strife or war can ever break it, and they know nothing of malice and hatred, of sickness or old age.
But presently Perseus remembered his mother, Danae, as she lay in her prison-house, at Seriphos, and he left the garden of the Hyperboreans to return to the world of toiling men, but the people of the land knew only that it lay beyond the slow-rolling Ocean stream, and Perseus saw not whither he went as he rose on his golden sandals into the soft and dreamy air. Onwards he flew, until far beneath he beheld the Ocean river, and once more he saw the light of Helios, as he drove his fiery chariot through the heaven. Far away stretched the mighty Libyan plain, and further yet, beyond the hills which shut it in, he saw the waters of the dark sea, and the white line of foam, where the breakers were dashed upon the shore. As he came nearer, he saw the huge rocks which rose out of the heaving waters, and on one of them he beheld a maiden, whose limbs were fastened with chains to a stone. The folds of her white robe fluttered in the breeze, and her fair face was worn and wasted with the heat by day and the cold by night. Then Perseus hastened to her, and stood a long time before her, but she saw him not, for the helmet of Hades was on his head, and he watched her there till the tears started to his eyes for pity. Her hands were clasped upon her breast, and only the moving of her lips showed the greatnessof her misery. Higher and higher rose the foaming waters, till at last the maiden said, "O Zeus, is there none whom thou canst send to help me?" Then Perseus took the helmet in his hand, and stood before her in all his glorious beauty, and the maiden knew that she had nothing to fear when he said, "Lady, I see that thou art in great sorrow; tell me who it is that has wronged thee, and I will avenge thee mightily." And she answered, "Stranger, whoever thou art, I will trust thee, for thy face tells me that thou art not one of those who deal falsely. My name is Andromeda, and my father, Kepheus, is King of the rich Libyan land, but there is strife between him and the old man, Nereus, who dwells with his daughters in the coral caves, beneath the sea, for, as I grew up in my father's house, my mother made a vain boast of my beauty, and said that among all the children of Nereus there was none so fair as I." So Nereus rose from his coral caves, and went to the King Poseidon, and said, "King of the broad sea, Kassiopeia, hath done a grievous wrong to me and to my children. I pray thee let not her people escape for her evil words.
Then Poseidon let loose the waters of the sea, and they rushed in over the Libyan plains till only the hills which shut it in remained above them, and a mighty monster came forth and devoured all the fruits of the land. In grief and terror the people fell down before my father, Kepheus, and he sent to the home of Ammon to ask what he should do for the plague of waters and for the savage beast who vexed them; and soon the answer came that he must chain up his daughter on a rock, till the beast came and took her for his prey. So they fastened me here to this desolate crag, and each day the monster comes nearer as the waters rise; and soon, I think, they will place me within his reach." Then Perseus cheered her with kindly words, and said, "Maiden, I am Perseus, to whom Zeus has given the power to do great things. I hold in my hand the sword of Hermes,which has slain the Gorgon Medusa, and I am bearing to Polydektes, who rules in Seriphos, the head which turns all who look on it into stone. Fear not, then, Andromeda. I will do battle with the monster, and, when thy foes are vanquished, I will sue for the boon of thy love." A soft blush as of great gladness came over the pale cheek of Andromeda, as she answered, "O Perseus, why should I hide from thee my joy? Thou hast come to me like the light of the morning when it breaks on a woeful night." But, even as she spake, the rage of the waves waxed greater, and the waters rose higher and higher, lashing the rocks in their fury, and the hollow roar of the monster was heard as he hastened to seize his prey. Presently by the maiden's side he saw a glorious form with the flashing sword in his hand, and he lashed the waters in fiercer anger. Then Perseus went forth to meet him, and he held aloft the sword which Hermes gave to him, and said, "Sword of Phœbus, let thy stroke be sure, for thou smitest the enemy of the helpless." So the sword fell, and the blood of the mighty beast reddened the waters of the green sea.
EUTERPE.EUTERPE (Muse of Pleasure).ToList
EUTERPE (Muse of Pleasure).ToList
In gladness of heart Perseus led the maiden to the halls of Kepheus, and said, "O King, I have slain the monster to whom thou didst give thy child for a prey; let her go with me now to other lands, if she gainsay me not." But Kepheus answered, "Tarry with us yet a while, and the marriage feast shall be made ready, if indeed thou must hasten away from the Libyan land." So, at the banquet, by the side of Perseus sate the beautiful Andromeda; but there arose a fierce strife, for Phineus had come to the feast, and it angered him that another shouldhave for his wife the maiden whom he had sought to make his bride. Deeper and fiercer grew his rage, as he looked on the face of Perseus, till at last he spake evil words of the stranger who had taken away the prize which should have been his own. But Perseus said, calmly, "Why, then, didst thou not slay the monster thyself and set the maiden free?" When Phineus heard these words his rage almost choked him, and he charged his people to draw their swords and slay Perseus. Wildly rose the din in the banquet hall, but Perseus unveiled the Gorgon's face, and Phineus and all his people were frozen into stone.
Then, in the still silence, Perseus bare away Andromeda from her father's home, and when they had wandered through many lands they came at length to Seriphos. Once more Danae looked on the face of her son, and said, "My child, the months have rolled wearily since I bade thee farewell; but sure I am that my prayer has been heard, for thy face is as the face of one who comes back a conqueror from battle." Then Perseus said, "Yes, my mother, the help of Zeus has never failed me. When the eastern breeze carried me hence to the Argive land, my heart was full of sorrow, because I saw the city which thou didst yearn to see, and the home which thou couldst not enter, and I vowed a vow to bring thee back in triumph when I came to claim my birthright.
That evening, as I slept, the lady Athene came to me from the home of Zeus, and gave me a mirror so that I might take the Gorgon's head without looking on the face which turns everything into stone, and yet another night, Hermes stood before me, and gave me the sword whose stroke never fails, and the Graiai told me where I should find the nymphs who gave me the helmet of Hades, and the bag which has borne hither the Gorgon's head, and the golden sandals which have carried me like a dream over land and sea. O, my mother, I have done wondrous things by the aid of Zeus. By me the doom of Medusa hasbeen accomplished, and I think that the words which thou didst speak were true, for the image of the Gorgon's face, which I saw in Athene's mirror, was as the countenance of one whose beauty has been marred by a woeful agony, and whenever I have looked since on that image, it has seemed to me as though it wore the look of one who rested in death from a mighty pain. So, as the giant Atlas looked on that grief-stricken brow, he felt no more the weight of the heaven as it rested on him, and the gray hair which streamed from his head seemed to me, when I left him, like the snow which clothes the mountain-tops in winter. So, when from the happy gardens of the Hyperboreans I came to the rich Libyan plain, and had killed the monster who sought to slay Andromeda, the Gorgon's face turned Phineus and his people into stone, when they sought to slay me because I had won her love." Then Danae answered the questions of Perseus, and told him how Polydektes had vexed her with his evil words, and how Diktys alone had shielded her from his brother. And Perseus bade Danae be of good cheer, because the recompense of Polydektes was nigh at hand.
There was joy and feasting in Seriphos when the news was spread abroad that Perseus had brought back for the King the head of the Gorgon Medusa, and Polydektes made a great feast, and the wine sparkled in the goblets as the minstrels sang of the great deeds of the son of Danae. Then Perseus told him of all that Hermes and Athene had done for him. He showed them the helmet of Hades, and the golden sandals, and the unerring sword, and then he unveiled the face of Medusa before Polydektes and the men who had aided him against his mother, Danae. So Perseus looked upon them, as they sat at the rich banquet, stiff and cold as a stone, and he felt that his mighty work was ended. Then, at his prayer, came Hermes, the messenger of Zeus, and Perseus gave him back the helmet of Hades, and the sword which had slain the Gorgon, and the sandalswhich had borne him through the air like a dream. And Hermes gave the helmet again to Hades, and the sandals to the Ocean nymphs, but Athene took the Gorgon's head, and it was placed upon her shield.
Then Perseus spake to Danae, and said, "My mother, it is time for thee to go home. The Gorgon's face has turned Polydektes and his people into stone, and Diktys rules in Seriphos." So once more the white sails were filled with the eastern breeze, and Danae saw once more the Argive land. From city to city spread the tidings that Perseus was come, who had slain the Gorgon, and the youths and maidens sang "Io Paian," as they led the conqueror to the halls of Akrisios.
The shouts of "Io Paian" reached the ear of Akrisios, as he sat in his lonely hall, marveling at the strange things which must have happened to waken the sounds of joy and triumph; for, since the day when Danae was cast forth with her babe on the raging waters, the glory of war had departed from Argos, and it seemed as though all the chieftains had lost their ancient strength and courage. But the wonder of Akrisios was changed to a great fear when they told him that his child, Danae, was coming home, and that the hero, Perseus, had rescued her from Polydektes, the King of Seriphos. The memory of all the wrong which he had done to his daughter tormented him, and still in his mind dwelt the words of warning which came from Phœbus Apollo that he should one day be slain by the hands of her son; so that, as he looked forth on the sky, it seemed to him as though he should see the sun again no more.
In haste and terror Akrisios fled from his home. He tarriednot to hear the voice of Danae, he stayed not to look on the face of Perseus, nor to see that the hero who had slain the Gorgon bore him no malice for the wrongs of the former days. Quickly he sped over hill and dale, across river and forest, till he came to the house of Teutamidas, the great chieftain who ruled in Larissa.
The feast was spread in the banquet-hall, and the Thessalian minstrels sang of the brave deeds of Perseus, for even thither had his fame reached already. They told how from the land of toiling men he had passed to the country of the Graiai and the Gorgons, how he had slain the mortal Medusa and stiffened the giant Atlas into stone, and then they sang how, with the sword of Hermes, he smote the mighty beast which ravaged the Libyan land, and won Andromeda to be his bride. Then Teutamidas spake, and said, "My friend, I envy thee for thy happy lot, for not often in the world of men may fathers reap such glory from their children as thou hast won from Perseus. In the ages to come men shall love to tell of his great and good deeds, and from him shall spring mighty chieftains, who shall be stirred up to a purer courage when they remember how Perseus toiled and triumphed before them. And now tell me, friend, wherefore thou hast come hither. Thy cheek is pale, and thy hand trembles, but I think not that it can be from the weight of years, for thy old age is yet but green, and thou mayest hope still to see the children of Perseus clustering around thy knees."
But Akrisios could scarcely answer for shame and fear; for he cared not to tell Teutamidas of the wrongs which he had done to Danae. So he said, hastily, that he had fled from a great danger, for the warning of Phœbus was that he should be slain by his daughter's son. And Teutamidas said, "Has thy daughter yet another son?" And then Akrisios was forced to own that he had fled from the hero, Perseus. But the face of Teutamidas flushed with anger as he said, "O shame, that thoushouldst flee from him who ought to be thy glory and thy pride! Everywhere men speak of the goodness and the truth of Perseus, and I will not believe that he bears thee a grudge for anything that thou hast done to him. Nay, thou doest to him a more grievous wrong in shunning him now than when thou didst cast him forth in his mother's arms upon the angry sea." So he pleaded with Akrisios for Perseus, until he spoke the word that Danae and her child might come to the great games which were to be held on the plain before Larissa.
With shouts of "Io Paian" the youths and maidens went out before Perseus as he passed from the city of Akrisios to go to Larissa, and everywhere as he journeyed the people came forth from town and village to greet the bright hero and the beautiful Andromeda, whom he had saved from the Libyan dragon. Onwards they went, spreading gladness everywhere, till the cold heart of Akrisios himself was touched with a feeling of strange joy, as he saw the band of youths and maidens who came before them to the house of Teutamidas. So once more his child Danae stood before him, beautiful still, although the sorrows of twenty years had dimmed the brightness of her eye, and the merry laugh of her youth was gone. Once more he looked on the face of Perseus, and he listened to the kindly greeting of the hero whom he had wronged in the days of his helpless childhood. But he marveled yet more at the beauty of Andromeda, and he thought within himself that throughout the wide earth were none so fair as Perseus and the wife whom he had won with the sword of Hermes.
Then, as they looked on the chiefs who strove together in the games, the shouting of the crowd told at the end of each that Perseus was the conqueror. At last they stood forth to see which should have most strength of arm in hurling the quoit; and, when Perseus aimed at the mark, the quoit swerved aside and smote Akrisios on the head, and the warning of Phœbus Apollo was accomplished.
Great was the sorrow of Teutamidas and his people as the chieftain of Argos lay dead before them; but deeper still and more bitter was the grief of Perseus for the deed which he had unwittingly done, and he said, "O Zeus, I have striven to keep my hands clean and to deal truly, and a hard recompense hast thou given me."
So they went back mourning to Argos, but although he strove heartily to rule his people well, the grief of Perseus could not be lessened while he remained in the house of Akrisios. So he sent a messenger to his kinsman, Megapenthes, who ruled at Tiryns, and said, "Come thou and rule in Argos, and I will go and dwell among thy people." So Perseus dwelt at Tiryns, and the men of the city rejoiced that he had come to rule over them. Thus the months and years went quickly by, as Perseus strove with all his might to make his people happy and to guard them against their enemies. At his bidding, the Cyclopes came from the far-off Lykian land, and built the mighty walls which gird the city round about; and they helped him to build yet another city, which grew in after-times to be even greater and mightier than Tiryns. So rose the walls of Mykenæ, and there, too, the people loved and honored Perseus for his just dealing more than for all the deeds which he had done with the sword of Hermes. At last the time came when the hero must rest from his long toil, but as they looked on his face, bright and beautiful even in death, the minstrels said, "We shall hear his voice no more, but the name of Perseus shall never die."
Of all the maidens in the land of Attica none was so beautiful as Prokris, the daughter of King Erechtheus. She was the delight of her father's heart, not so much for her beauty as forher goodness and her gentleness. The sight of her fair face and the sound of her happy voice brought gladness to all who saw and heard her. Every one stopped to listen to the songs which she sang as she sat working busily at the loom, and the maidens who dwelt with her were glad when the hour came to go with Prokris and wash their clothes or draw water from the fountain. Then, when all her tasks were ended, she would roam over hill and valley, into every nook and dell. There was no spot in all the land where Prokris had not been. She lay down to rest in the top of the highest hills, or by the side of the stream where it murmured among the rocks far down in the woody glen. So passed her days away; and while all loved her and rejoiced to see her face, only Prokris knew not of her own beauty, and thought not of her own goodness. But they amongst whom she lived, the old and the young, the sorrowful and happy, all said that Prokris, the child of Herse, was always as fair and bright as the dew of early morning.
THALIA.THALIA (Muse of Comedy).ToList
THALIA (Muse of Comedy).ToList
Once in her many wanderings she had climbed the heights of Mount Hymettos, almost before the first streak of dawn was seen in the sky. Far away, as she looked over the blue sea, her eyes rested on the glittering cliffs of Eubœa, and she looked and saw that a ship was sailing towards the shore beneath the hill of Hymettos. Presently it reached the shore, and she could see that a man stepped out of the ship, and began to climb the hill, while the rest remained on the beach. As he came nearer to her, Prokris knew that his face was very fair, and she thought that she had never seen such beauty in mortal man before. She had heard that sometimes the gods come down from their home on Olympos to mingle among the children of men, and that sometimesthe bright heroes were seen in the places where they had lived on the earth before they were taken to dwell in the halls of Zeus. As the stranger came near to her the sun rose brightly and without a cloud from the dark sea, and its light fell on his face, and made it gleam with more than mortal beauty. Gently he came towards her, and said, "Lady, I am come from the far-off eastern land, and as I drew near to this shore I saw that some one was resting here upon the hill. So I hastened to leave the ship that I might learn the name of the country which I have reached. My name is Kephalos, and my father, Helios, lives in a beautiful home beyond the sea, but I am traveling over the earth, till I shall have gone over every land and seen all the cities which men have built. Tell me now thy name, and the name of this fair land." Then she said, "Stranger, my name is Prokris, and I am the daughter of King Erechtheus, who dwells at Athens yonder, where thou seest the bright line of Kephisos flowing gently into the sea." So Prokris guided the stranger to her father's house, and Erechtheus received him kindly, and spread a banquet before him. But as they feasted and drank the dark red wine, he thought almost that Kephalos must be one of the bright heroes come back to his own land, so fair and beautiful was he to look upon, and that none save only his own child, Prokris, might be compared to him for beauty.
Long time Kephalos abode in the house of Erechtheus, and, each day, he loved more and more the bright and happy Prokris; and Prokris became brighter and happier, as the eye of Kephalos rested gently and lovingly upon her. At last Kephalos told her of his love, and Erechtheus gave him his child to be his wife, and there were none in all the land who dwelt together in a love so deep and pure as that of Kephalos and Prokris.
But among the maidens of that land there was one who was named Eos. She, too, was fair and beautiful, but she had not the gentle spirit and the guileless heart of Prokris.Whenever Kephalos wandered forth with his young wife, then Eos would seek to follow them stealthily, or, if she met them by chance, she would suffer her eyes to rest long on the fair face of Kephalos, till she began to envy the happiness of Prokris. And so one day, when there was a feast of the people of the land, and the maidens danced on the soft grass around the fountain, Kephalos and Eos talked together, and Eos suffered herself to be carried away by her evil love. From that day she sought more and more to talk with Kephalos, till at last she bowed her head before him and told him softly of her love. But Kephalos said to her, gently, "Maiden, thou art fair to look upon, and there are others who may love thee well, and thou deservest the love of any. But I may not leave Prokris, whom Erechtheus has given to me to be my wife. Forgive me, maiden, if Prokris appear to me even fairer than thou art; but I prize her gentleness more than her beauty, and Prokris, with her pure love and guileless heart, shall be always dearer to me than any other in all the wide earth." Then Eos answered him craftily, "O Kephalos, thou hast suffered thyself to be deceived. Prokris loves thee not as I do; prove her love and thou shalt see that I have spoken truly."
Thus Eos spoke to him for many days, and the great happiness of his life was marred, for the words of Eos would come back to his mind, as he looked on the happy and guileless Prokris. He had begun to doubt whether she were in very deed so pure and good as she seemed to be, and at last he said to Eos that he would prove her love. Then Eos told him how to do so, and said that if he came before his wife as a stranger and brought to her rich gifts, as from a distant land, she would forget her love for Kephalos.
With a heavy heart he went away, for he foreboded evil days from the subtle words of Eos, and he departed and dwelt in another land. So the time passed on, until many weeks andmonths had gone by, and Prokris mourned and wept in the house of Erechtheus, until the brightness of her eye was dimmed and her voice had lost its gladness. Day after day she sought throughout all the land for Kephalos, day after day she went up the hill of Hymettos, and as she looked towards the sea, she said, "Surely he will come back again; ah, Kephalos, thou knowest not the love which thou hast forsaken." Thus she pined away in her sorrow, although to all who were around her she was as gentle and as loving as ever. Her father was now old and weak, and he knew that he must soon die, but it grieved him most of all that he must leave his child in a grief more bitter than if Kephalos had remained to comfort her. So Erechtheus died, and the people honored him as one of the heroes of the land, but Prokris remained in his house desolate, and all who saw her pitied her for her true love and her deep sorrow. At last she felt that Kephalos would return no more, and that she could no more be happy until she went to her father in the bright home of the heroes and the gods.
Then a look of peace and loving patience came over her fair face, and she roamed with a strange gladness through every place where Kephalos had wandered with her; and so it came to pass that one day Prokris sat resting in the early morning on the eastern slopes of Mount Hymettos, when suddenly she beheld a man coming near to her. The dress was strange, but she half thought she knew his tall form and the light step as he came up the hill. Presently he came close to her, and she felt as if she were in a strange dream. The sight of his face and the glance of his eye carried her back to the days that were past, and she started up and ran towards him, saying, "O Kephalos, thou art come back at last; how couldst thou forsake me so long?" But the stranger answered, in a low and gentle voice (for he saw that she was in great sorrow), "Lady, thou art deceived. I am a stranger come from a far country, and I seek to know thename of this land." Then Prokris sat down again on the grass, and clasped her hands, and said, slowly, "It is changed and I can not tell how; yet surely it is the voice of Kephalos." Then she turned to the stranger, and said, "O stranger, I am mourning for Kephalos, whom I have loved and lost; he, too, came from a far land across the sea. Dost thou know him, and canst thou tell me where I may find him?" And the stranger answered, "I know him, lady; he is again in his own home, far away, whither thou canst not go; yet think not of him, for he has forgotten his love." Then the stranger spoke to her in gentle and soothing words, until her grief became less bitter. Long time he abode in the land, and it pleased Prokris to hear his voice while his eye rested kindly on her, until she almost fancied that she was with Kephalos once more. And she thought to herself, "What must that land be, from which there can come two who are beautiful as the bright heroes?"
So at last, when with soft and gentle words he had soothed her sorrow, the stranger spoke to her of his love, and Prokris felt that she, too, could love him, for had not Kephalos despised her love and forsaken her long ago? So he said, "Canst thou love me, Prokris, instead of Kephalos?" and when she gently answered "Yes," then a change came over the face of the stranger, and she saw that it was Kephalos himself who clasped her in his arms. With a wild cry she broke from him, and as bitter tears ran down her cheek, she said, "O Kephalos, Kephalos, why hast thou done thus? all my love was thine, andthouhast drawn me into evil deeds." Then, without tarrying for his answer, with all her strength she fled away, and she hastened to the sea shore and bade them make ready a ship to take her from her father's land. Sorrowfully they did as she besought them, and they took her to the Island of Crete, far away in the eastern sea.
When Prokris was gone, the maiden Eos came and stoodbefore Kephalos, and she said to him, "My words are true, and now must thou keep the vow by which thou didst swear to love me, if Prokris should yield herself to a stranger." So Kephalos dwelt with Eos, but for all her fond words he could not love her as still he loved Prokris.
Meanwhile Prokris wandered, in deep and bitter sorrow, among the hills and valleys of Crete. She cared not to look on the fair morning as it broke on the pale path of night; she cared not to watch the bright sun as he rose from the dark sea, or when he sank to rest behind the western waters. For the earth had lost all its gladness, and she felt that she could die. But one day as she sat on a hill-side and looked on the broad plains which lay stretched beneath, suddenly a woman stood before her, brighter and more glorious than the daughters of men, and Prokris knew, from the spear which she held in her hand and the hound which crouched before her, that it was Artemis, the mighty child of Zeus and Leto. Then Prokris fell at her feet, and said, "O lady Artemis, pity me in my great sorrow;" and Artemis answered, "Fear not, Prokris, I know thy grief. Kephalos hath done thee a great wrong, but he shall fall by the same device wherewith he requited thy pure and trusting love." Then she gave to Prokris her hound and her spear, and said, "Hasten now to thine own land, and go stand before Kephalos, and I will put a spell upon him that he may not know thee. Follow him in the chase, and at whatsoever thou mayest cast this spear, it shall fall, and from this hound no prey which thou mayest seek for shall ever escape."
So Prokris sailed back to the land of Erechtheus with the gifts of Artemis. And when Kephalos went to the chase, Prokris followed him, and all the glory of the hunt fell to her portion, for the hound struck down whatever it seized, and her spear never missed its aim. And Kephalos marveled greatly, and said to the maiden, "Give me thy hound and thy spear,"and he besought the stranger many times for the gift, till at last Prokris said, "I will not give them but for thy love, thou must forsake Eos and come to dwell with me." Then Kephalos said, "I care not for Eos; so only I have thy gifts, thou shalt have my love." But even as he spoke these words, a change came over the face of the stranger, and he saw that it was Prokris herself who stood before him. And Prokris said, "Ah, Kephalos, once more thou hast promised to love me, and now may I keep thy love, and remain with thee always. Almost I may say that I never loved any one but thee, but thou art changed, Kephalos, although still the same, else wouldst thou not have promised to love me for the gift of a hound and a spear." Then Kephalos besought Prokris to forgive him, and he said, "I am caught in the trap which I laid for thee, but I have fallen deeper. When thou gavest thy love to me as to a stranger, it pleased thee yet to think that I was like Kephalos, and my vow to thee has been given for the mere gifts which I coveted." But Prokris only said, "My joy is come back to me again, and now I will leave thee no more."
So once more in the land of Erechtheus Prokris and Kephalos dwelt together in a true and deep love. Once more they wandered over hill and dale as in the times that were past, and looked out from the heights of Hymettos to the white shore of Eubœa, as it glistened in the light of early day. But whenever he went to the chase with the hound and the spear of Artemis, Prokris saw that Eos still watched if haply she might talk with Kephalos alone, and win him again for herself. Once more she was happy, but her happiness was not what it had been when Kephalos first gave her his love, while her father, Erechtheus, was yet alive. She knew that Eos still envied her, and she sought to guard Kephalos from the danger of her treacherous look and her enticing words. She kept ever near him in the chase, although he saw her not, and thus it came to pass that oneday, as Prokris watched him from a thicket, the folds of her dress rustled against the branches, so that Kephalos thought it was some beast moving from his den, and hurled at her the spear of Artemis that never missed its mark. Then he heard the cryas of one who has received a deadly blow, and when he hastened into the thicket, Prokris lay smitten down to the earth before him. The coldness of death was on her face, and her bright eye was dim, but her voice was as loving as ever, while she said, "O Kephalos, it grieves me not that thy arm hath struck me down. I have thy love, and having it, I go to the land of the bright heroes, where my father, Erechtheus, is waiting for his child, and where thou, too, shalt one day meet me, to dwell with me forever." One loving look she gave to Kephalos, and the smile of parting vanished in the stillness of death.
NUMA POMPILIUS VISITING THE NYMPH EGERIA.NUMA POMPILIUS VISITING THE NYMPH EGERIA.ToList
NUMA POMPILIUS VISITING THE NYMPH EGERIA.ToList
Then over the body of Prokris Kephalos wept tears of bitter sorrow, and he said, "Ah, Eos, Eos, well hast thou rewarded me for doubting once a love such as thou couldst never feel." Many days and many weeks he mourned for his lost love, and daily he sat on the slopes of Hymettos, and thought with a calm and almost happy grief how Prokris there had rested by his side. All this time the spear of Artemis was idle, and the hound went not forth to the chase, until chieftains came from other lands to ask his aid against savage beasts or men. Among them came Amphitryon, the lord of Thebes, to ask for help, and Kephalos said, "I will do as thou wouldst have me. It is time that I should begin to journey to the bright land where Prokris dwells, beyond the western sea."
So he went with Amphitryon into the Theban land, and hunted out the savage beasts which wasted his harvests, and then he journeyed on till he came to the home of Phœbus Apollo, at Delphi. There the god bade him hasten to the western sea, where he should once again find Prokris. Onward he went, across the heights and vales of Ætolia, until he stood on the Leukadian cape and looked out on the blue water. The sun was sinking low down in the sky, and the golden clouds of evening were gathered round him as he hastened to his rest. And Kephalos said, "Here must I rest, also, for my journey is done,and Prokris is waiting for me in the brighter land." There on the white cliff he stood, and just as the sun touched the waters, the strength of Kephalos failed him, and he sank gently into the sea.
So again, in the homes of the bright heroes, Kephalos found the wife whom he had loved and slain.
From the turret of her father's house, Skylla, the daughter of Nisos, watched the ships of King Minos, as they drew near from the Island of Crete. Their white sails and the spears of the Cretan warriors sparkled in the sunshine, as the crested waves rose and fell, carrying the long billows to the shore. As she watched the goodly sight, Skylla thought sadly of the days that were gone, when her father had sojourned as a guest in the halls of King Minos, and she had looked on his face as on the face of a friend. But now there was strife between the chieftains of Crete and Megara, for Androgeos, the son of Minos, had been slain by evil men as he journeyed from Megara to Athens, and Minos was come hither with his warriors to demand the price of his blood. But when the herald came with the message of Minos, the face of Nisos, the King, flushed with anger, as he said, "Go thy way to him that sent thee, and tell him that he who is guarded by the undying gods cares not for the wrath of men whose spears shall be snapped like bulrushes." Then said the herald, "I can not read thy riddle, chieftain of Megara, but the blood of the gods runs in the veins of Minos, and it can not be that the son of Europa shall fall under the hands of thee or of thy people."
The sun went down in a flood of golden glory behind thepurple heights of Geraneia, and as the mists of evening fell upon the land, the warriors of Minos made ready for the onset on the morrow. But when the light of Eos flushed the eastern sky, and the men of Crete went forth to the battle, their strength and their brave deeds availed them nothing, for the arms of the mightiest became weak as the hands of a little child, because the secret spell, in which lay the strength of the undying gods, guarded the city of Nisos. And so it came to pass that, as day by day they fought in vain against the walls of Megara, the spirit of the men of Crete waxed feeble, and many said that they came not thither to fight against the deathless gods.
But each day as Minos led his men against the city, the daughter of Nisos had looked forth from her turret, and she saw his face, beautiful as in the days when she had sojourned in his house at Gnossos, and flushed with the pride and eagerness of the war. Then the heart of Skylla was filled with a strange love, and she spake musingly within herself, "To what end is this strife of armed men? Love is beyond all treasures, and brighter for me than the love of others would be one kindly look from the bright son of Europa. I know the spell which keeps the city of the Megarians, and where is the evil of the deed, if I take the purple lock of hair which the gods have given to my father as a pledge that so long as it remains untouched, no harm shall befall his people? If I give it to Minos the struggle is ended, and it may be that I shall win his love."
So when the darkness of night fell again upon the earth, and all the sons of men were buried in a deep sleep, Skylla entered stealthily into her father's chamber, and shore off the purple lock in which lay his strength and the strength of his people. Then, as the tints of early morning stole across the dark heavens, the watchmen of the Cretans beheld the form of a woman as she drew nigh to them and bade them lead her to the tent of King Minos. When she was brought before him, withdowncast face she bowed herself to the earth, and said, "I have sojourned in thy halls in the days that are gone, when there was peace between thee and the house of my father, Nisos. O Minos, peace is better than war, and of all treasures the most precious is love. Look on me, then, gently as in former days, for at a great price do I seek thy kindness. In this purple lock is the strength of my father and his people." Then a strange smile passed over the face of Minos, as he said, "The gifts of fair maidens must not be lightly cast aside; the requital shall be made when the turmoil of strife is ended."
With a mighty shout the Cretan warriors went forth to the onset as the fiery horses of Helios rose up with his chariot into the kindled heaven. Straightway the walls of Megara fell, and the men of Crete burst into the house of Nisos. So the city was taken, and Minos made ready to go against the men of Athens, for on them also he sought to take vengeance for the death of his son, Androgeos. But even as he hastened to his ship, Skylla stood before him on the sea-shore. "Thy victory is from me," she said, "where is the requital of my gift?" Then Minos answered, "She who cares not for the father that has cherished her has her own reward, and the gift which thou didst bring me is beyond human recompense." The light southern breeze swelled the outspread sail, and the ship of Minos danced gaily over the rippling waters. For a moment the daughter of Nisos stood musing on the shore. Then she stretched forth her arms, as with a low cry of bitter anguish she said, "O Love, thy sting is cruel, and my life dies poisoned by the smile of Aphrodite!" So the waters closed over the daughter of Nisos, as she plunged in the blue depths; but the strife which vexes the sons of men follows her still, when the eagle swoops down from the clouds for his prey in the salt sea.
Many, many years ago, there was a man called Athamas, and he had a wife whose name was Nephele. They had two children—a boy and a girl. The name of the boy was Phrixos, and his sister was called Helle. They were good and happy children, and played about merrily in the fields, and their mother, Nephele, loved them dearly. But by and by their mother was taken away from them, and their father, Athamas, forgot all about her, for he had not loved her as he ought to do. And very soon he married another wife whose name was Ino, but she was harsh and unkind to Phrixos and Helle, and they began to be very unhappy. Their cheeks were no more rosy, and their faces no longer looked bright and cheerful, as they used to do when they could go home to their mother, Nephele, and so they played less and less, until none would have thought that they were the same children who were so happy before Nephele was taken away. But Ino hated these poor children, for she was a cruel woman, and she longed to get rid of Phrixos and Helle, and she thought how she might do so. So she said that Phrixos spoiled all the corn, and prevented it from growing, and that they would not be able to make any bread till he was killed. At last she persuaded Athamas that he ought to kill Phrixos. But although Athamas cared nothing about Phrixos and Helle, still their mother, Nephele, saw what was going on, although they could not see her, because there was a cloud between them; and Nephele was determined that Athamas should not hurt Phrixos. So she sent a ram which had a golden fleece to carry her children away, and one day, when they were sitting down on the grass (for they were too sad and unhappy to play), they saw a beautiful ram come into the field. And Phrixos said to Helle, "Sister, look at this sheep that is coming to us; see, he shines allover like gold—his horns are made of gold, and all the hair on his body is golden, too." So the ram came nearer and nearer, and at last he lay down quite close to them, and looked so quiet that Phrixos and Helle were not at all afraid of him. Then they played with the sheep, and they took him by the horns, and stroked his golden fleece, and patted him on the head, and the ram looked so pleased that they thought they would like to have a ride on his back. So Phrixos got up first, and put his arms round the ram's neck, and little Helle got up behind her brother and put her arms round his waist, and then they called to the ram to stand up and carry them about. And the ram knew what they wanted, and began to walk first, and then to run. By and by it rose up from the ground and began to fly. And when it first left the earth, Phrixos and Helle became frightened, and they begged the ram to go down again and put them upon the ground, but the ram turned his head round, and looked so gently at them, that they were not afraid any more. So Phrixos told Helle to hold on tight round his waist, and he said, "Dear Helle, do not be afraid, for I do not think the ram means to do us any harm, and I almost fancy that he must have been sent by our dear mother, Nephele, and that he will carry us to some better country, where the people will be kind to us, as our mother used to be."
Now it so happened that, just as the ram began to fly away with the two children on its back, Ino and Athamas came into the field, thinking how they might kill Phrixos, but they could not see him anywhere; and when they looked up, then, high up in the air over their heads, they saw the ram flying away with the children on its back. So they cried out and made a great noise, and threw stones up into the air, thinking that the ram would get frightened and come down to the earth again; but the ram did not care how much noise they made or how many stones they threw up. On and on he flew, higher and higher,till at last he looked only like a little yellow speck in the blue sky; and then Ino and Athamas saw him no more.
So these wicked people sat down, very angry and unhappy. They were sorry because Phrixos and Helle had got away all safe, when they wanted to kill them. But they were much more sorry because they had gone away on the back of a ram whose fleece was made of gold. So Ino said to Athamas, "What a pity that we did not come into the field a little sooner, for then we might have caught this ram and killed him and stripped off his golden fleece, and we should have been rich for the rest of our days."
All this time the ram was flying on and on, higher and higher, with Phrixos and Helle on his back. And Helle began to be very tired, and she said to her brother that she could not hold on much longer, and Phrixos said, "Dear Helle, try and hold on as long as you possibly can; I dare say the ram will soon reach the place to which he wants to carry us, and then you shall lie down on the soft grass, and have such pleasant sleep that you will not feel tired any more." But Helle said, "Dearest Phrixos, I will indeed try and hold fast as long as I can, but my arms are becoming so weak that I am afraid that I shall not be able to hold on long." And by and by, when she grew weaker, she said, "Dear Phrixos, if I fall off, you will not see Helle any more, but you must not forget her, you must always love her as she loved you, and then some day or other we shall see each other again, and live with our dear mother, Nephele." Then Phrixos said, "Try and hold fast a little longer still, Helle. I can never love any one so much as I love you; but I want you to live with me on earth, and I can not bear to think of living without you."
But it was of no use that he talked so kindly and tried to encourage his sister, because he was not able to make her arms and her body stronger; so by and by poor Helle fell off, just asthey were flying over a narrow part of the sea, and she fell into it and was drowned. And the people called the part of the sea where she fell in, the Hellespont, which means the sea of little Helle.
So Phrixos was left alone on the ram's back; and the ram flew on and on a long way, till it came to the palace of Aietes, the King of Kolchis. And King Aietes was walking about in his garden, when he looked up into the sky, and saw something which looked very like a yellow sheep with a little boy on its back. And King Aietes was greatly amazed, for he had never seen so strange a thing before, and he called his wife and his children, and everyone else that was in his house, to come and see this wonderful sight. And they looked, and saw the ram coming nearer and nearer, and then they knew that it really was a boy on its back; and by and by the ram came down upon the earth near their feet, and Phrixos got off its back. Then King Aietes went up to him, and took him by the hand, and asked him who he was, and he said, "Tell me, little boy, how it is that you come here, riding in this strange way on the back of a ram." Then Phrixos told him the ram had come into the field where he and Helle were playing, and had carried them away from Ino and Athamas, who were very unkind to them, and how little Helle had grown tired, and fallen off his back, and had been drowned in the sea. Then King Aietes took Phrixos up in his arms, and said, "Do not be afraid; I will take care of you and give you all that you want, and no one shall hurt you here; and the ram which has carried you through the air shall stay in this beautiful place, where he will have as much grass to eat as he can possibly want, and a stream to drink out of and to bathe in whenever he likes."
So Phrixos was taken into the palace of King Aietes, and everybody loved him, because he was good and kind, and never hurt anyone. And he grew up healthy and strong, and helearned to ride about the country and to leap and run over the hills and valleys, and swim about in the clear rivers. He had not forgotten his sister Helle, for he loved her still as much as ever, and very often he wished that she could come and live with him again, but he knew that she was with his mother, Nephele, in the happy land to which good people go after they are dead. And therefore he was never unhappy when he thought of his sister, for he said, "One day I, too, shall be taken to that bright land, and live with my mother and my sister again, if I try always to do what is right." And very often he used to go and see the beautiful ram with the golden fleece feeding in the garden, and stroke its golden locks.
But the ram was not so strong now as he was when he flew through the air with Phrixos and Helle on his hack, for he was growing old and weak, and at last the ram died, and Phrixos was very sorry. And King Aietes had the golden fleece taken off from the body, and they nailed it up upon the wall, and every one came to look at the fleece which was made of gold, and to hear the story of Phrixos and Helle.
But all this while Athamas and Ino had been hunting about everywhere, to see if they could find out where the ram had gone with the children on his back; and they asked every one whom they met, if they had seen a sheep with a fleece of gold carrying away two children. But no one could tell anything about it, till at last they came to the house of Aietes, the King of Kolchis. And they came to the door, and asked Aietes if he had seen Phrixos and Helle, and the sheep with the golden fleece. Then Aietes said to them, "I have never seen little Helle, for she fell off from the ram's back, and was drowned in the sea, but Phrixos is with me still, and as for the ram, see here is his golden fleece nailed up upon the wall." And just then Phrixos happened to come in, and Aietes asked them, "Look, now, and tell me if this is the Phrixos whom you are seeking."And when they saw him, they said, "It is indeed the same Phrixos who went away on the ram's back, but he is grown into a great man;" and they began to be afraid, because they thought they could not now ill-treat Phrixos, as they used to do when he was a little boy. So they tried to entice him away by pretending to be glad to see him, and they said, "Come away with us, and we shall live happily together." But Phrixos saw from the look of their faces that they were not telling the truth, and that they hated him still, and he said to them, "I will not go with you; King Aietes has been very good to me, and you were always unkind to me and to my sister, and therefore I will never leave King Aietes to go away with you." Then they said to Aietes, "Phrixos may stay here, but give us the golden fleece which came from the ram that carried away the children." But the King said, "I will not—I know that you only ask for it because you wish to sell it, and therefore you shall not have it."
Then Ino and Athamas turned away in a rage, and went to their own country again, wretched and unhappy because they could not get the golden fleece. And they told every one that the fleece of the ram was in the palace of the King of Kolchis, and they tried to persuade every one to go in a great ship and take away the fleece by force. So a great many people came, and they all got into a large ship called the Argo, and they sailed and sailed, until at last they came to Kolchis. Then they sent some one to ask Aietes to give them the golden fleece, but he would not, and they would never have found the fleece again, if the wise maiden, Medeia, had not shown Iason how he might outdo the bidding of King Aietes. But when Iason had won the prize and they had sailed back again to their own land, the fleece was not given to Athamas and Ino. The other people took it, for they said, "It is quite right that we should have it, to make up for all our trouble in helping to get it." So, with all their greediness, these wretched people remained as poor and as miserable as ever.