Far away in the Kolchian land, where her father, Aietes, was King, the wise maiden, Medeia, saw and loved Iason, who had come in the ship, Argo, to search for the golden fleece. To her Zeus had given a wise and cunning heart, and she had power over the hidden things of the earth, and nothing in the broad sea could withstand her might. She had spells to tame the monsters which vex the children of men, and to bring back youth to the wrinkled face and the tottering limbs of the old. But the spells of Eros were mightier still, and the wise maiden forgot her cunning as she looked on the fair countenance of Iason, and she said within herself that she would make him conqueror in his struggle for the golden fleece, and go with him to be his wife in the far-off western land. So King Aietes brought up in vain the fire-breathing bulls that they might scorch Iason as he plowed the land with the dragon's teeth, and in vain from these teeth sprang up the harvest of armed men ready for strife and bloodshed. For Medeia had anointed the body of Iason with ointment, so that the fiery breath of the bulls hurt him not; and by her bidding he cast a stone among the armed men, and they fought with one another for the stone till all lay dead upon the ground. Still King Aietes would not give to him the golden fleece, and the heart of Iason was cast down till Medeia came to him and bade him follow her. Then she led him to a hidden dell where the dragon guarded the fleece, and she laid her spells on the monster and brought a heavy sleep upon his eye, while Iason took the fleece and hastened to carry it on board the ship Argo.
So Medeia left her father's house, and wandered with Iason into many lands—to Iolkos, to Athens, and to Argos. Andwherever she went, men marveled at her for her wisdom and her beauty, but as they looked on her fair face and listened to her gentle voice, they knew not the power of the maiden's wrath if any one should do her wrong. So she dwelt at Iolkos, in the house of Pelias, who had sent forth Iason to look for the golden fleece, that he might not be King in his stead, and the daughters of Pelias loved the beautiful Medeia, for they dreamed not that she had sworn to avenge on Pelias the wrong which he had done to Iason. Craftily she told the daughters of Pelias of the power of her spells, which could tame the fire-breathing bulls, and lull the dragon to sleep, and bring back the brightness of youth to the withered cheeks of the old. And the daughters of Pelias said to her, "Our father is old, and his limbs are weak and tottering, show us how once more he can be made young." Then Medeia took a ram and cut it up, and put its limbs into a caldron, and when she had boiled them on the hearth there came forth a lamb, and she said, "So shall your father be brought back again to youth and strength, if ye will do to him as I have done to the ram, and when the time is come, I will speak the words of my spell, and the change shall be accomplished." So the daughters of Pelias followed her counsel, and put the body of their father into the caldron, and, as it boiled on the hearth, Medeia said, "I must go up to the house-top and look forth on the broad heaven, that I may know the time to speak the words of my charm." And the fire waxed fiercer and fiercer, but Medeia gazed on at the bright stars, and came not down from the house-top till the limbs of Pelias were consumed away.
POLYHYMNIA.POLYHYMNIA (Muse Of Rhetoric and Eloquence).ToList
POLYHYMNIA (Muse Of Rhetoric and Eloquence).ToList
Then a look of fierce hatred passed over her face, and shesaid, "Daughters of Pelias, ye have slain your father, and I go with Iason to the land of Argos." So thither she sped with him in her dragon chariot, which bore them to the house of King Kreon.
Long time she abode in Argos, rejoicing in the love of Iason and at the sight of her children, who were growing up in strength and beauty. But Iason cared less and less for the wise and cunning Medeia, and he loved more to look on Glauke, the daughter of the King, till at last he longed to be free from the love and the power of Medeia.
Then men talked in Argos of the love of Iason for the beautiful Glauke, and Medeia heard how he was going to wed another wife. Once more her face grew dark with anger, as when she left the daughters of Pelias mourning for their father, and she vowed a vow that Iason should repent of his great treachery. But she hid her anger within her heart, and her eye was bright and her voice was soft and gentle as she spake to Iason and said, "They tell me that thou art to wed the daughter of Kreon; I had not thought thus to lose the love for which I left my father's house and came with thee to the land of strangers. Yet do I chide thee not, for it may be that thou canst not love the wise Kolchian maid like the soft daughters of the Argive land, and yet thou knowest not altogether how I have loved thee. Go, then, and dwell with Glauke, and I will send her a bright gift, so that thou mayest not forget the days that are past."
So Iason went away, well pleased that Medeia had spoken to him gently and upbraided him not, and presently his children came after him to the house of Kreon, and said, "Father, we have brought a wreath for Glauke, and a robe which Helios gave to our mother, Medeia, before she came away with thee from the house of her father." Then Glauke came forth eagerly to take the gifts, and she placed the glittering wreath on her head, andwrapped the robe round her slender form. Like a happy child, she looked into a mirror to watch the sparkling of the jewels on her fair forehead, and sat down on the couch playing with the folds of the robe of Helios. But soon a look of pain passed over her face, and her eyes shone with a fiery light as she lifted her hand to take the wreath away, but the will of Medeia was accomplished, for the poison had eaten into her veins, and the robe clung with a deadly grasp to her scorched and wasted limbs. Through the wide halls rang the screams of her agony, as Kreon clasped his child in his arms. Then sped the poison through his veins also, and Kreon died with Glauke.
Then Medeia went with her children to the house-top, and looked up to the blue heaven, and stretching forth her arms, she said, "O Helios, who didst give to me the wise and cunning heart, I have avenged me on Iason, even as once I avenged him on Pelias. Thou hast given me thy power; yet, it may be, I would rather have the life-long love of the helpless daughters of men."
Presently her dragon chariot rose into the sky, and the people of Argos saw the mighty Medeia no more.
Many a long year ago a little child was playing on the white sand of the Bay of Troizen. His golden locks streamed in the breeze as he ran amongst the rippling waves which flung themselves lazily on the beach. Sometimes he clapped his hands in glee as the water washed over his feet, and he stopped again to look with wondering eyes at the strange things which were basking on the sunny shore, or gazed on the mighty waters which stretched away bright as a sapphire stone into the far distance.But presently some sadder thoughts troubled the child, for the look of gladness passed away from his face, and he went slowly to his mother, who sat among the weed-grown rocks, watching her child play.
"Mother," said the boy, "I am very happy here, but may I not know to-day why I never see my father as other children do? I am not now so very young, and I think that you feel sometimes lonely, for your face looks sad and sorrowful, as if you were grieving for some one who is gone away."
Fondly and proudly the mother looked on her boy, and smoothed the golden locks on his forehead, as she said, "My child, there is much to make us happy, and it may be that many days of gladness are in store for us both. But there is labor and toil for all, and many a hard task awaits thee, my son. Only have a brave heart, and turn away from all things mean and foul, and strength will be given thee to conquer the strongest enemy. Sit down, then, here by my side, and I will tell thee a tale which may make thee sad, but which must not make thee unhappy, for none can do good to others who waste their lives in weeping. Many summers have come and gone since the day when a stranger drew nigh to the house of my father, Pittheus. The pale light of evening was fading from the sky, but we could see, by his countenance and the strength of his stalwart form, that he was come of a noble race and could do brave deeds. When Pittheus went forth from the threshold to meet him, the stranger grasped his hand, and said, 'I come to claim the rights of our ancient friendship, for our enemies have grown too mighty for us, and Pandion, my father, rules no more in Athens. Here, then, let me tarry till I can find a way to punish the men who have driven away their King and made his children wanderers on the earth.' So Aigeus sojourned in my father's house, and soon he won my love, and I became his wife. Swiftly and happily the days went by, and one thing only troubled me, andthis was the thought that one day he must leave me, to fight with his enemies and place his father again upon his throne. But even this thought was forgotten for awhile, when Aigeus looked on thee for the first time, and, stretching forth his hands towards heaven, said, 'O Zeus, that dwellest in the dark cloud, look down on my child, and give him strength that he may be a better man than his father, and if thou orderest that his life shall be one of toil, still let him have the joy which is the lot of allwho do their work with a cheerful heart and keep their hands from all defiling things.' Then the days passed by more quickly and happily than ever, but at last there came the messengers from Athens, to tell him that the enemies of Pandion were at strife among themselves, and that the time was come that Aigeus should fight for his father's house. Not many days after this we sat here, watching thee at play among the weeds and flowers that climb among the rocks, when thy father put his arms gently round me, and said, 'Aithra, best gift of all that the gods have ever given to me, I leave thee to go to my own land, and I know not what things may befall me there, nor whether I may return hither to take thee to dwell with me at Athens. But forget not the days that are gone, and faint not for lack of hope that we may meet again in the days that are coming. Be a brave mother to our child, that so he, too, may grow up brave and pure, and when he is old enough to know what he must do, tell him that he is born of a noble race, and that he must one day fight stoutly to win the heritage of his fathers.' And now, my son, thou seest yonder rock, over which the wild briars have clambered. No hands have moved it since the day when thy father lifted it up and placed beneath it his sword and his sandals. Then he put back the stone as it was before, and said to me, 'When thou thinkest fit, tell our child that he must wait until he is able to lift this stone. Then must he put my sandals on his feet, and gird my sword on his side, and journey to the city of his forefathers.' From that day, my child, I have never seen thy father's face, and the time is often weary, although the memory of the old days is sweet and my child is by my side to cheer me with his love. So now thou knowest something of the task that lies before thee. Think of thy father's words, and make thyself ready for the toil and danger that may fall to thy lot in time to come."
SPHINX OF EGYPT.SPHINX OF EGYPT.ToList
SPHINX OF EGYPT.ToList
The boy looked wistfully into his mother's face, and astrange feeling of love and hope and strength filled his heart, as he saw the tears start to her eyes when the tale was ended. His arms were clasped around her neck, but he said only, "Mother, I will wait patiently till I am strong enough to lift the stone, but before that time comes, perhaps my father may come back from Athens."
So for many a year more the days went by, and the boy, Theseus, grew up brave, truthful, and strong. None who looked upon him grudged him his beauty, for his gentleness left no room for envy, and his mother listened with a proud and glad heart to the words with which the people of the land told of his kindly deeds. At length the days of his youth were ended, but Aigeus came not back, and Theseus went to Aithra, and said, "The time is come, my mother; I must see this day whether I am strong enough to lift the stone." And Aithra answered, gently, "Be it as thou wilt, and as the undying gods will it, my son." Then he went up to the rock, and nerved himself for a mighty effort, and the stone yielded slowly to his strength, and the sword and sandals lay before him. Presently he stood before Aithra, and to her it seemed that the face of Theseus was as the face of one of the bright heroes who dwell in the halls of Zeus. A flush of glorious beauty lit up his countenance, as she girt the sword to his side and said, "The gods prosper thee, my son, and they will prosper thee, if thou livest in time to come as thou hast lived in the days that are gone."
So Theseus bade his mother farewell, there on the white sea-shore, where long ago he had asked her first to tell him of his name and kindred. Sadly, yet with a good hope, he set out on his journey. The blue sea lay before him, and the white sails of ships glistened as they danced on the heaving waters. But Theseus had vowed a vow that he would do battle with the evil-doers who filled the land with blood, and for terror of whom the travelers walked in by-ways. So at Epidauros he fought withthe cruel Periphetes, and smote him with his own club, and at the Megarian isthmus he seized the robber, Sinis, and tore him to pieces between the trunks of pines, even as he had been wont to do with the wayfarers who fell into his hands. Then, in the thickets of Krommyon, he slew the huge sow that ravaged the fair corn-fields, and on the borderland he fought a sore fight with Skiron, who plundered all who came in his path, and, making them wash his feet, hurled them, as they stooped, down the cliffs which hung over the surging sea. Even so did Theseus to him, and journeying on to the banks of Kephisos, stretched the robber, Prokroustes, on the bed on which he had twisted and tortured the limbs of his victims till they died.
Thus, amid the joyous shoutings of the people whom he had set free, Theseus entered into the city of his fathers, and the rumor of him was brought to Aigeus, the King. Then the memory of the days that were gone came back to Aigeus, and his heart smote him as he thought within himself that this must be the child of Aithra, whom he had left mourning on the shore of Troizen. But soon there was a strife in the city, for among the mightiest of the people were many who mocked at Theseus, and said, "Who is this stranger that men should exalt him thus, as though he came of the race of heroes? Let him show that he is the child of Aigeus, if he would win the heritage which he claims." So was Theseus brought before the King, and a blush of shame passed over the old man's face when he saw the sword and sandals which he had left beneath the great stone, near the Troizenian shore. Few words only he spake of welcome, and none of love or kindness for his child or for the wife who still yearned for the love of the former days. Then, at his father's bidding, Theseus made ready to go forth once again on his path of toil, and he chafed not against the hard lot which had fallen to his portion. Only he said, "The love of a father would sweeten my labor, but my mother's love is with me still, and the battle is for right and for law."
So in after-times the minstrels sang of the glorious deeds of Theseus the brave and fair. They told how at last at the bidding of his father he went forth from the gates of Athens and smote the bull which ravaged the broad plains of Marathon, and how in the secret maze of the labyrinth he smote the Minotauros. They sang of his exploits in the day when the Amazons did battle with the men of Athens—how he went with Meleagros and his chieftains to the chase of the boar in Kalydon—how with the heroes in the ship Argo he brought back the golden fleece from Kolchis. They told how at last he went down with Peirithoos, his comrade, into the gloomy kingdom of Hades and seized on the daughter of Demeter, to bring her to the land of living men. They sang of the fierce wrath of Hades when his lightnings burst forth and smote Peirithoos—of the dark prison-house where Theseus lay while many a rolling year went round, until at last the mighty Herakles passed the borders of the shadowy land and set the captive free.
And so it was that, when the heroes had passed to the home of Zeus and the banquet of the gods, the glory of Theseus was as the glory of the brave son of Alkmene who toiled for the false Eurystheus; and ever in the days of feasting, the minstrels linked together the names of Herakles and Theseus.
The soft western breeze was bearing a ship from the Athenian land to the fair haven of Gnossos, and the waters played merrily round the ship as it sped along the paths of the sea. But on board there were mournful hearts and weeping eyes, for the youths and maidens which that ship was bearing to Crete were to be the prey of the savage Minotauros. As they came nearthe harbor gates, they saw the people of King Minos crowded on the shore, and they wept aloud because they should no more look on the earth and on the sun as he journeyed through the heaven.
In that throng stood Ariadne, the daughter of the King, and as she gazed on the youths and maidens who came out of the tribute ship, there passed before her one taller and fairer than all, and she saw that his eye alone was bright and his step firm, as he moved from the shore to go to the house of Minos. Presently they all stood before the King, and he saw that one alone gazed steadfastly upon him, while the eyes of the rest were dim with many tears. Then he said, "What is thy name?" The young man answered, "I am Theseus, the son of King Aigeus, and I have come as one of the tribute children, but I part not with my life till I have battled for it with all my strength. Wherefore send me first, I pray thee, that I may fight with Minotauros; for if I be the conqueror, then shall all these go back with me in peace to our own land." Then Minos said, "Thou shalt indeed go first to meet Minotauros; but think not to conquer him in the fight, for the flame from his mouth will scorch thee, and no mortal man may withstand his strength." And Theseus answered, "It is for man to do what best he may; the gods know for whom remains the victory."
But the gentle heart of Ariadne was moved with love and pity as she looked on his fair face and his bright and fearless eye, and she said within herself, "I can not kill the Minotauros or rob him of his strength, but I will guide Theseus so that he may reach the monster while sleep lies heavy upon him."
On the next day Theseus, the Athenian, was to meet the dreadful Minotauros, who dwelt in the labyrinth of Gnossos. Far within its thousand twisted alleys was his den, where he waited for his prey, as they were brought each along the winding paths. But Ariadne talked in secret with Theseus in thestill evening time, and she gave him a clue of thread, so that he might know how to come back out of the mazes of the labyrinth after he had slain the Minotauros; and when the moon looked down from heaven, she led him to a hidden gate, and bade him go forth boldly, for he should come to the monster's den while sleep lay heavy on his eyes. So when the morning came, the Minotauros lay lifeless on the ground, and there was joy and gladness in the great city of Gnossos, and Minos himself rejoiced that the youths and maidens might go back with Theseus in peace to Athens.
So once again they went into the ship, and the breeze blew softly to carry them to the homes which they had not thought to see again. But Theseus talked with Ariadne, in the house of Minos, and the maiden wept as though some great grief lay heavy upon her, and Theseus twined his arm gently round her, and said, "Fairest of maidens, thy aid hath saved me from death, but I care not now to live if I may not be with thee. Come with me, and I will lead thee to the happier land, where my father, Aigeus, is King. Come with me, that my people may see and love the maiden who rescued the tribute children from the savage Minotauros."
CALLIOPE.CALLIOPE. (Muse of Heroic Verse.)ToList
CALLIOPE. (Muse of Heroic Verse.)ToList
Then Ariadne went with him joyfully, for her own love made her think that Theseus loved her not less dearly. So she wept not as she saw the towers of Gnossos growing fainter and fainter while the ship sped over the dancing waters, and she thought only of the happy days which she should spend in the bright Athens where Theseus should one day be King. Gaily the ship sped upon her way, and there was laughter and mirth among the youths and maidens who were going back to their home. And Theseus sat by the side of Ariadne, speaking the words of a deeper love than in truth he felt, and fancying that he loved the maiden even as the maiden loved him. But while yet he gazed on the beautiful Ariadne, the image of Aigle cameback to his mind, and the old love was wakened again in his heart. Onward sailed the ship, cleaving its way through the foaming waters, by the Islands of Thera and Amorgos, till the high cliffs of Naxos broke upon their sight.
The sun was sinking down into the sea when they came to its winding shores, and the seamen moored the ship to the land, and came forth to rest until the morning. There they feasted gaily on the beach, and Theseus talked with Ariadne until the moon was high up in the sky. So they slept through the still hours of night, but when the sun was risen, Ariadne was alone upon the sea-shore. In doubt and fear, she roamed along the beach, but she saw no one, and there was no ship sailing on the blue sea. In many a bay and nook she sought him, and she cried in bitter sorrow, "Ah, Theseus, Theseus, hast thou forsaken me?" Her feet were wounded by the sharp flints, her limbs were faint from very weariness, and her eyes were dim with tears. Above her rose the high cliffs like a wall, before her was spread the bright and laughing sea, and her heart sank within her, for she felt that she must die. "Ah, Theseus," she cried, "have I done thee wrong? I pitied thee in the time of thy sorrow and saved thee from thy doom, and then I listened to thy fair words, and trusted them as a maiden trusts when love is first awakened within her. Yet hast thou dealt me a hard requital. Thou art gone to happy Athens, and it may be thou thinkest already of some bright maiden who there has crossed thy path, and thou hast left me here to die for weariness and hunger. So would I not requite thee for a deed of love and pity."
Wearied and sad of heart, she sank down on the rock, andher long hair streamed over her fair shoulders. Her hands were clasped around her knees, and the hot tears ran down her cheeks, and she knew not that there stood before her one fairer and brighter than the sons of men, until she heard a voice which said, "Listen to me, daughter of Minos. I am Dionysos, the lord of the feast and revel. I wander with light heart and the sweet sounds of laughter and song over land and sea; I saw thee aid Theseus when he went into the labyrinth to slay the Minotauros. I heard his fair words when he prayed thee to leave thy home and go with him to Athens. I saw him this morning, while yet the stars twinkled in the sky, arouse his men and sail away in his ship to the land of Aigeus; but I sought not to stay him, for, Ariadne, thou must dwell with me. Thy love and beauty are a gift too great for Theseus; but thou shalt be the bride of Dionysos. Thy days shall be passed amid feasts and banquets, and when thy life is ended here, thou shalt go with me to the homes of the undying gods, and men shall see the crown of Ariadne in the heavens when the stars look forth at night from the dark sky. Nay, weep not, Ariadne, thy love for Theseus hath been but the love of a day, and I have loved thee long before the black-sailed ship brought him from poor and rugged Athens." Then Ariadne wept no more, and in the arms of Dionysos she forgot the false and cruel Theseus; so that among the matrons who thronged round the joyous wine-god the fairest and the most joyous was Ariadne, the daughter of Minos.
On the heights of Mænalos the hunter Alpheios saw the maiden Arethusa as she wandered joyously with her companions over the green swelling downs where the heather spread out itspink blossoms to the sky. Onward she came, the fairest of all the band, until she drew nigh to the spot where Alpheios stood marveling at the brightness of her beauty. Then, as she followed the winding path on the hill-side, she saw his eye resting upon her, and her heart was filled with fear, for his dark face was flushed by the toil of the long chase and his torn raiment waved wildly in the breeze. And yet more was she afraid when she heard the sound of his rough voice, as he prayed her to tarry by his side. She lingered not to listen to his words, but with light foot she sped over hill and dale and along the bank of the river where it leaps down the mountain cliffs and winds along the narrow valleys.
Then Alpheios vowed a vow that the maiden should not escape him. "I will follow thee," he said, "over hill and dale; I will seek thee through rivers and seas, and where thou shalt rest, there will I rest, also." Onward they sped, across the dark heights of Erymanthos and over the broad plains of Pisa, till the waters of the western sea lay spread out before them, dancing in the light of the midday sun.
Then with arms outstretched, and with wearied limbs, Arethusa cried aloud, and said, "O daughters of the gentle Okeanos, I have played with you on the white shore in the days of mirth and gladness, and now I come to your green depths. Save me from the hand of the wild huntsman." So she plunged beneath the waves of the laughing sea, and the daughters of Okeanos bore her gently downwards till she came to the coral caves, where they sat listening to the sweet song of the waters. But there they suffered her not to rest, for they said, "Yet further must thou flee, Arethusa, for Alpheios comes behind thee." Then in their arms they bore her gently beneath the depths of the sea, till they laid her down at last on the Ortygian shore of the Thrinakian land, as the sun was sinking down in the sky. Dimly she saw spread before her the blue hills, and she felt thesoft breath of the summer breeze, as her eyes closed for weariness. Then suddenly she heard the harsh voice which scared her on the heights of Mænalos, and she tarried not to listen to his prayer. "Flee not away, Arethusa," said the huntsman, Alpheios, "I mean not to harm thee; let me rest in thy love, and let me die for the beauty of thy fair face." But the maiden fled with a wild cry along the winding shore, and the light step of her foot left no print on the glistening sand. "Not thus shalt thou escape from my arms," said the huntsman, and he stretched forth his hand to seize the maiden, as she drew nigh to a fountain whose waters flashed clear and bright in the light of the sinking sun. Then once again Arethusa called aloud on the daughtersof Okeanos, and she said, "O friends, once more I come to your coral caves, for on earth there is for me no resting-place." So the waters closed over the maiden, and the image of heaven came down again on the bright fountain. Then a flush of anger passed over the face of Alpheios, as he said, "On earth thou hast scorned my love, O maiden, but my form shall be fairer in thy sight when I rest beside thee beneath the laughing waters." So over the huntsman, Alpheios, flowed the Ortygian stream, and the love of Arethusa was given to him in the coral caves, where they dwell with the daughters of Okeanos.
THE ORIGIN OF MAN.THE ORIGIN OF MAN. (From an antique Sculpture.)ToList
THE ORIGIN OF MAN. (From an antique Sculpture.)ToList
On the banks of the fairest stream in all the land of Thessaly, the golden-haired Enipeus wooed the maiden Tyro; with her he wandered in gladness of heart, following the path of the winding river, and talking with her of his love. And Tyro listened to his tender words, as day by day she stole away from the house of her father, Salmoneus, to spend the livelong day on the banks of his beautiful stream.
But Salmoneus was full of rage when he knew that Tyro loved Enipeus, and how she had become the mother of two fair babes. There was none to plead for Tyro and her helpless children, for her mother, Alkidike, was dead, and Salmoneus had taken the iron-hearted Sidero to be his wife. So he followed her evil counsels, and he said to Tyro, "Thy children must die, and thou must wed Kretheus, the son of the mighty Aiolos."
Then Tyro hastened in bitter sorrow to the banks of the stream, and her babes slept in her arms, and she stretched out her hands with a loud cry for aid, but Enipeus heard her not, for he lay in his green dwelling far down beneath the happy waters.So she placed the babes amidst the thick rushes which grew along the banks, and she said, "O Enipeus, my father says that I may no more see thy face; but to thee I give our children; guard them from the anger of Salmoneus, and it may be that in time to come they will avenge my wrongs."
There, nestled amid the tall reeds, the children slept, till a herdsman saw them as he followed his cattle along the shore. And Tyro went back in anguish of heart to the house of Salmoneus, but she would not have the love of Kretheus or listen to his words. Then Sidero whispered again her evil counsels into the ear of Salmoneus, and he shut up Tyro, so that she might not see the light of the sun or hear the voice of man. He cut off the golden locks that clustered on her fair cheeks, he clothed her in rough raiment, and bound her in fetters which gave her no rest by night or by day. So in her misery she pined away, and her body was wasted by hunger and thirst, because she would not become the wife of Kretheus. Then more and more she thought of the days when she listened to the words of Enipeus as she wandered with him by the side of the sounding waters, and she said within herself, "He heard me not when I called to him for help, but I gave him my children, and it may be that he has saved them from death; and if ever they see my face again, they shall know that I never loved any save Enipeus, who dwells beneath the stream."
So the years passed on, and Pelias and Neleus dwelt with the herdsman, and they grew up strong in body and brave of soul. But Enipeus had not forgotten the wrongs of Tyro, and he put it into the heart of her children to punish Sidero for her evil counsels. So Sidero died, and they brought out their mother from her dreary dungeon, and led her to the banks of the stream where she had heard the words of Enipeus in the former days. But her eyes were dim with long weeping, and the words of her children sounded strangely in her ears, and shesaid, "O my children, let me sink to sleep while I hear your voices, which sound to me like the voice of Enipeus." So she fell asleep and died, and they laid her body in the ground by the river's bank, where the waters of Enipeus made their soft music near her grave.
On the banks of Kephisos, Echo saw and loved the beautiful Narkissos, but the youth cared not for the maiden of the hills, and his heart was cold to the words of her love, for he mourned for his sister, whom Hermes had taken away beyond the Stygian River. Day by day he sat alone by the streamside, sorrowing for the bright maiden whose life was bound up with his own, because they had seen the light of the sun in the self-same day, and thither came Echo and sat down by his side, and sought in vain to win his love. "Look on me and see," she said, "I am fairer than the sister for whom thou dost mourn." But Narkissos answered her not, for he knew that the maiden would ever have something to say against his words. So he sat silent and looked down into the stream, and there he saw his own face in the clear water, and it was to him as the face of his sister for whom he pined away in sorrow, and his grief became less bitter as he seemed to see again her soft blue eye, and almost to hear the words which came from her lips. But the grief of Narkissos was too deep for tears, and it dried up slowly the fountain of his life. In vain the words of Echo fell upon his ears, as she prayed him to hearken to her prayer: "Ah, Narkissos, thou mournest for one who can not heed thy sorrow, and thou carest not for her who longs to see thy face and hear thy voice forever." But Narkissos saw still in the waters of Kephisos the face of his twin sister, and still gazing at it he fell asleepand died. Then the voice of Echo was heard no more, for she sat in silence by his grave, and a beautiful flower came up close to it. Its white blossoms drooped over the banks of Kephisos where Narkissos had sat and looked down into its clear water, and the people of the land called the plant after his name.
In the pleasant valleys of a country which was called Thessaly there lived a man whose name was Orpheus. Every day he made soft music with his golden harp, and sang beautiful songs such as no one had ever heard before. And whenever Orpheus sang, then everything came to listen to him, and the trees bowed down their heads to hear, and even the clouds sailed along more gently and brightly in the sky when he sang, and the stream which ran close to his feet made a softer noise, to show how glad his music made it.
Now, Orpheus had a wife who was called Eurydike, whom he loved very dearly. All through the winter, when the snow was on the hills, and all through the summer, when the sunshine made everything beautiful, Orpheus used to sing to her, and Eurydike sat on the grass by his side while the beasts came round to listen, and the trees bowed down their heads to hear him.
But one day when Eurydike was playing with some children on the bank of the river, she trod upon a snake in the long grass, and the snake bit her. And by and by she began to be very sick, and Eurydike knew that she must die. So she told the children to go to Orpheus (for he was far away) and say how sorry she was to leave him, and that she loved him always very dearly, and then she put her head down upon the grass and fellasleep and died. Sad indeed was Orpheus when the children came to tell him that Eurydike was dead. He felt so wretched that he never played upon his golden harp, and he never opened his lips to sing, and the beasts that used to listen to him wondered why Orpheus sat all alone on the green bank where Eurydike used to sit with him, and why it was that he never made any more of his beautiful music. All day long he sat there, and his cheeks were often wet with tears. At last he said, "I can not stay here any more, I must go and look for Eurydike. I can not bear to be without her, and perhaps the king of the land where people go after they are dead will let her come back and live with me again."
So he took his harp in his hand, and went to look for Eurydike in the land which is far away, where the sun goes down into his golden cup before the night comes on. And he went on and on a very long way, till at last he came to a high and dark gateway. It was barred across with iron bars, and it was bolted and locked so that nobody could open it.
It was a wretched and gloomy place, because the sunshine never came there, and it was covered with clouds and mist. In front of this great gateway there sat a monstrous dog, with three heads, and six eyes, and three tongues, and everything was dark around, except his eyes, which shone like fire, and which saw every one that dared to come near. Now, when Orpheus came looking for Eurydike, the dog raised his three heads, and opened his three mouths, and gnashed his teeth at him, and roared terribly, but when Orpheus came nearer, the dog jumped up upon his feet and got himself ready to fly at him and tear him to pieces. Then Orpheus took down his harp and began to play upon its golden strings. And the dog, Kerberos (for that was his name), growled and snarled and showed the great white teeth which were in his three mouths, but he could not help hearing the sweet music, and he wondered why it was that he didnot wish any more to tear Orpheus in pieces. Very soon the music made him quiet and still, and at last it lulled him to sleep, and only his heavy breathing told that there was any dog there. So when Kerberos had gone to sleep, Orpheus passed by him and came up to the gate, and he found it wide open, for it had come open of its own accord while he was singing. And he was glad when he saw this, for he thought that now he should see Eurydike.
So he went on and on a long way, until he came to the palace of the King, and there were guards placed before the door who tried to keep him from going in, but Orpheus played upon his harp, and then they could not help letting him go.
ERATE.ERATE (Muse of the Lute).
ERATE (Muse of the Lute).
TERPSICHORE.TERPSICHORE. (Muse of Dancing.)ToList
TERPSICHORE. (Muse of Dancing.)ToList
So he went into the great hall, where he saw the King and Queen sitting on a throne, and as Orpheus came near, the King called out to him with a loud and terrible voice, "Who are you, and how dare you to come here? Do you not know that no one is allowed to come here till after they are dead? I will have you chained and placed in a dungeon, from which you will never be able to get out." Then Orpheus said nothing, but he took his golden harp in his hand and began to sing more sweetly and gently than ever, because he knew that, if he liked to do so, the King could let him see Eurydike again. And as he sang, the face of the King began to look almost glad, and his anger passed away, and he began to feel how much happier it must be to be gentle and loving than to be angry and cruel. Then the King said, "You have made me feel happy with your sweet music, although I have never felt happy before; and now tell me why you have come, because you must want something or other, for, otherwise, no one would come, before he was dead, tothis sad and gloomy land of which I am the King." Then Orpheus said, "O King, give me back my dear Eurydike, and let her go from this gloomy place and live with me on the bright earth again." So the King said that she should go. And the King said to Orpheus, "I have given you what you wanted, because you sang so sweetly, and when you go back to the earth from this place, your wife whom you love shall go up after you, but remember that you must never look back until she has reached the earth, for if you do, Eurydike will be brought back here, and I shall not be able to give her to you again, even if you should sing more sweetly and gently than ever."
Now, Orpheus was longing to see Eurydike, and he hoped that the King would let him see her at once, but when the King said that he must not try to see her till she had reached the earth, he was quite content, for he said, "Shall I not wait patiently a little while, that Eurydike may come and live with me again?" So he promised the King that he would go up to the earth without stopping to look behind and see whether Eurydike was coming after him.
Then Orpheus went away from the palace of the King, and he passed through the dark gateway, and the dog, Kerberos, did not bark or growl, for he knew that Orpheus would not have been allowed to come back if the King had not wished it. So he went on and on a long way, and he became impatient, and longed more and more to see Eurydike. At last he came near to the land of living men, and he saw just a little streak of light, where the sun was going to rise from the sea, and presently the sky became brighter, and he saw everything before him so clearly that he could not help turning round to look at Eurydike. But, ah! she had not yet quite reached the earth, and so now he lost her again. He just saw something pale and white, which looked like his own dear wife, and he just heard a soft and gentle voice, which sounded like the voice of Eurydike, andthen it all melted away. And still he thought that he saw that pale white face, and heard that soft and gentle voice, which said, "O Orpheus, Orpheus, why did you look back? How dearly I love you, and how glad I should have been to live with you again, but now I must go back, because you have broken your promise to the King, and I must not even kiss you, and say how much I love you."
And Orpheus sat down at the place where Eurydike was taken away from him, and he could not go on any further, because he felt so miserable. There he stayed day after day, and his cheek became more pale, and his body weaker and weaker, till at last he knew that he must die. And Orpheus was not sorry, for although he loved the bright earth, with all its flowers and soft grass and sunny streams, he knew that he could not be with Eurydike again until he left it. So at last he laid his head upon the earth, and fell asleep, and died; and then he and Eurydike saw each other in the land which is far away, where the sun goes down at night into his golden cup, and were never parted again.
In a beautiful valley in Phœnicia, a long time ago, two children, named Kadmos and Europa, lived with their mother, Telephassa. They were good and happy children, and full of fun and merriment. It was a very lovely place in which they lived, where there were all sorts of beautiful trees with fruits and flowers. The oranges shone like gold among the dark leaves, and great bunches of dates hung from the tall palm treeswhich bowed their heads as if they were asleep, and there was a delicious smell from the lime groves, and from many fruits and flowers which are never seen in America, but which blossom and ripen under the hot sun in Syria.
So the years went; and one day, as they were playing about by the side of the river, there came into the field a beautiful white bull. He was quite white all over—as white as the whitest snow; there was not a single spot or speck on any part of his body. And he came and lay down on the green grass, and remained still and quiet. So they went nearer and nearer to the bull, and the bull did not move, but looked at them with his large eyes as if he wished to ask them to come and play with him, and at last they came to the place where the bull was. Then Kadmos thought that he would be very brave, so he put out his hand, and began to pat the bull on his side, and the bull only made a soft sound to show how glad he was. Then Europa put out her hand, and stroked him on the face, and laid hold of his white horn, and the bull rubbed his face gently against her dress.
So by and by Kadmos thought that it would be pleasant to have a ride on the back of the bull, and he got on, and the bull rose up from the ground, and went slowly round the field with Kadmos on his back, and just for a minute or two Kadmos felt frightened, but when he saw how well and safely the bull carried him, he was not afraid any more. So they played with the bull until the sun sank down behind the hills, and then they hastened home.
When they reached the house, they ran quickly to Telephassa, and said to her, "Only think, we have been playing in the field with a beautiful white bull." And Telephassa was glad that they had been so happy, but she would not have been so glad if she had known what the bull was going to do.
Now, the next day while Europa was on its back, the bull began to trot quickly away, but Kadmos thought he was onlytrotting away for fun. So he ran after him, and cried out to make him stop. But the faster that Kadmos ran, the bull ran faster still, and then Kadmos saw that the bull was running away with his sister, Europa. Away the bull flew, all along the bank of the river, and up the steep hill and down into the valley on the other side, and then he scoured along the plain beneath. And Kadmos watched his white body, which shone like silver as he dashed through the small bushes and the long waving grass and the creeping plants which were trailing about all over the ground, till at last the white body of the bull looked only like a little speck, and then Kadmos could see it no more.
Very wretched was Kadmos when his sister was taken away from him in this strange way. His eyes were full of tears so that he could scarcely see, but still he kept on looking and looking in the way the bull had gone, and hoping that he would bring his sister back by and by. But the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, and then Kadmos saw him go down behind the hills, and he knew now that the bull would not come again, and then he began to weep bitterly. He hardly dared to go home and tell Telephassa what had happened, and yet he knew that he ought to tell her. So he went home slowly and sadly, and Telephassa saw him coming alone, and she began to be afraid that something had happened to Europa, and when she came up to him Kadmos could scarcely speak. At last he said, "The bull has run away with Europa." Then Telephassa asked him where he had gone, and Kadmos said that he did not know. But Telephassa said, "Which way did he go?" and then Kadmos told her that the bull had run away towards the land of the West, where the sun goes down into his golden cup. Then Telephassa said that they, too, must get up early in the morning and go towards the land of the West, and see if they could find Europa again.
That night they hardly slept at all, and their cheeks werepale and wet with their tears. And before the sun rose, and while the stars still glimmered in the pale light of the morning, they got up and went on their journey to look for Europa. Far away they went, along the valleys and over the hills, across the rivers and through the woods, and they asked every one whom they met if they had seen a white bull with a girl upon its back. But no one had seen anything of the kind, and many people thought that Kadmos and Telephassa were silly to ask such a question, for they said, "Girls do not ride on the backs of bulls; you can not be telling the truth." So they went on and on, asking every one, but hearing nothing about her; and as they journeyed, sometimes they saw the great mountains rising up high into the sky, with their tops covered with snow, and shining like gold in the light of the setting sun; sometimes they rested on the bank of a great broad river, where the large white leaves lay floating and sleeping on the water, and where the palm trees waved their long branches above their heads. Sometimes they came to a water-fall, where the water sparkled brightly as it rushed over the great stones. And whenever they came to these beautiful places, Kadmos would say to Telephassa, "How we should have enjoyed staying here if Europa were with us; but we do not care to stay here now, we must go on looking for her everywhere." So they went on and on till they came to the sea, and they wondered how they could get across it, for it was a great deal wider than any river which they had seen. At last they found a place where the sea was narrow, and here a boatman took them across in his boat, just where little Helle had been drowned when she fell off the back of the ram that was carrying her and her brother away to Kolchis. So Telephassa and Kadmos crossed over Hellespontos, which means the Sea of Helle, and they went on and on, over mountains and hills and rocks, and wild gloomy places, till they came to the sunny plains of Thessaly. And still they asked every one about Europa, butthey found no one who had seen her. And Kadmos saw that his mother was getting weak and thin, and that she could not walk now as far and as quickly as she had done when they had set out from home to look for his sister. So he asked her to rest for a little while. But Telephassa said, "We must go on, Kadmos, for if we do, perhaps we may still find Europa." So they went on, until at last Telephassa felt that she could not go any further. And she said to Kadmos, "I am very tired, and I do not think I shall be able to walk any more with you; I must lie down and go to sleep here, and perhaps, Kadmos, I may not wake again. But if I die while I am asleep, then you must go on by yourself and look for Europa, for I am quite sure that you will find her some day, although I shall not be with you. And when you see your sister, tell her how I longed to find her again, and how much I loved her always. And now, my child, I must go to sleep, and if I do not wake up any more, then I trust that we shall all see each other again one day, in a land which is brighter and happier than even the land in which we used to live before your sister was taken away from us."
So when she had said this, Telephassa fell asleep, just as the daylight was going away from the sky, and when the bright round moon rose up slowly from behind the dark hill. All night long Kadmos watched by her side, and when the morning came, he saw that Telephassa had died while she was asleep. Her face was quite still, and Kadmos knew by the happy smile which was on it, that she had gone to the bright land to which good people go when they are dead. Kadmos was very sorry to be parted from his mother, but he was not sorry that now she could not feel tired or sorrowful any more. So Kadmos placed his mother's body in the ground, and very soon all kinds of flowers grew up upon her grave.
But Kadmos had gone on to look for his sister, Europa, and presently he met a shepherd who was leading his flock of sheep.He was very beautiful to look at. His face shone as bright almost as the sun. He had a golden harp, and a golden bow, and arrows in a golden quiver, and his name was Phœbus Apollo. And Kadmos went up to him and said, "Have you seen my sister, Europa? a white bull ran away with her on his back. Can you tell me where I can find her?" And Phœbus Apollo said, "I have seen your sister, Europa, but I can not tell you yet where she is, you must go on a great way further still, till you come to a town which is called Delphi, under a great mountain named Parnassos, and there perhaps you may be able to find out something about her. But when you have seen her you must not stay there, because I wish you to build a city, and become a King, and be wise and strong and good. You and Europa must follow a beautiful cow that I shall send, till it lies down upon the ground to rest, and the place where the cow shall lie down shall be the place where I wish you to build the city."
So Kadmos went on and on till he came to the town of Delphi, which lay beneath the great mountain, called Parnassos. And there he saw a beautiful temple with white marble pillars, which shone brightly in the light of the early morning. And Kadmos went into the temple, and there he saw his dear sister, Europa. And Kadmos said, "Europa, is it you, indeed? How glad I am to find you." Then Europa told Kadmos how the bull had brought her and left her there a long time ago, and how sorry she had been that she could not tell Telephassa where she was. Then she said to Kadmos, "How pale and thin and weak you look; tell me how it is you are come alone, and when shall I see our dear mother?" Then his eyes became full of tears, and Kadmos said, "We shall never see our mother again in this world. She has gone to the happy land where good people go when they are dead. She was so tired with seeking after you that at last she could not come any further, and she lay down and fell asleep, and never waked up again. But she said that whenI saw you I must tell you how she longed to see you, and how she hoped that we should all live together one day in the land to which she has gone before us. And now, Europa, we must not stay here, for I met a shepherd whose name is Phœbus Apollo. He had a golden harp and a golden bow, and his face shone like the sun, and he told me that we must follow a beautiful cow which he would send, and build a city in that place where the cow shall lie down to rest."