CHAPTER III.JUNO.

Refer to captionTHE ABDUCTION OF EUROPA.—Albani. (Uffizi Palace, Florence.)

THE ABDUCTION OF EUROPA.—Albani. (Uffizi Palace, Florence.)

Search for Europa.

All unconscious of their sister’s fate, the young princes hadreturned in haste to their father’s palace to announce her sudden involuntary departure. Agenor, whose favorite she had always been, rent his garments for grief, and bade his sons go forth and seek her, and not to return till they had found her. Accompanied by their mother, Telephassa, they immediately set out on their journey, inquiring of all they met if they had seen their sister. Search and inquiry proved equally fruitless.

At last, weary of this hopeless quest, Phœnix refused his further aid, and allowed his sorrowing relatives to continue without him, remaining in a land which from him was called Phœnicia. Cilix, too, soon followed his example, and settled in a fertile country which they had reached, hence called Cilicia; and finally Telephassa, worn out with grief and fatigue, lay down to die, charging her oldest son to go on alone.

Cadmus wandered on till he came to Delphi, where he consulted the oracle; but, to his great dismay, the only reply he received was, “Follow the cow, and settle where she rests.”

In deep perplexity he left the temple, and, from force of habit, journeyed on, patiently questioning all he met. Soon he perceived a cow leisurely walking in front of him, and, mindful of the oracle, he ceased his search and followed her. Urged by curiosity, many adventurers joined him on the way, and, when the cow at last lay down in the land since called Bœotia, they all promised to aid Cadmus, their chosen leader, to found their future capital, which was to be called Thebes.

Founding of Thebes.

Parched with thirst after their long walk, the men then hastened to a neighboring spring, but, to Cadmus’ surprise, time passed and still they did not return. Armed with his trusty sword, he finally went down to the spring to discover the cause of their delay, and found that they had all been devoured by a huge dragon, which lived in the hollow. The prince raised his sword to avenge their death, and dealt the dragon such a deadly blow upon the head, that he put an immediate end to its existence.

While Cadmus stood there contemplating his lifeless foe, a voice bade him extract the dragon’s teeth, and sow them in the ground already broken for his future city. No human being was within sight: so Cadmus knew the order proceeded from the immortal gods, and immediately prepared to obey it. The dragon’s teeth were no sooner planted, than a crop of giants sprang from the soil, full grown, and armed to the teeth. They were about to fall upon Cadmus, when the same voice bade him cast a stone in the midst of their close-drawn phalanx. Cadmus, seeing the giants were almost upon him, and that no time was to be lost, quickly threw a stone. The effect produced was almost instantaneous; for the giants, each fancying it had been thrown by his neighbor, began fighting among themselves. In a few minutes the number of giants was reduced to five, who sheathed their bloodstained weapons, and humbly tendered their services to Cadmus. With their aid, the foundations of the city were laid; but their labor was not very arduous, as the gods caused some of the public buildings to rise up out of the ground, all complete, and ready for use.

To reward Cadmus for his loving and painstaking search for Europa, Jupiter gave him the hand of the fair princess Harmonia, a daughter of Mars and Venus, in marriage. Cadmus, the founder of Thebes, is supposed to have invented the alphabet, and introduced its use into Greece. Although his career was very prosperous at first, he finally incurred the wrath of the gods by forgetting, on a solemn occasion, to offer them a suitable sacrifice; and, in anger at his dereliction, they changed him and Harmonia into huge serpents.

Worship of Jupiter.

Jupiter was, of course, very widely and generally worshiped by the ancients; and his principal temples—the Capitol at Rome, and the shrine of Jupiter Ammon in Libya—have been world-renowned. He also had a noted temple at Dodona, where an oak tree gave forth mysterious prophecies, which were supposed to have been inspired by the king of gods; this long lost shrine has recently been discovered.

“Oh, where, Dodona! is thine aged grove,Prophetic fount, and oracle divine?What valley echoed the response of Jove?What trace remaineth of the Thunderer’s shrine?All, all forgotten!”Byron.

A magnificent temple at Olympia, on the Peloponnesus, was also dedicated to Jupiter; and here every fifth year the people of Greece were wont to assemble to celebrate games, in honor of Jupiter’s great victory over the Titans. These festivals were known as the Olympian Games; and the Greeks generally reckoned time by olympiads, that is to say, by the space of time between the celebrations. Within the temple at Olympia stood a wonderful statue of gold and ivory, the work of Phidias. Its proportions and beauty were such, that it was counted one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world. It is said, too, that the artist, having completed this masterpiece, longed for some sign of approval from heaven, and fervently prayed for a token that the god accepted his labor. Jupiter, in answer to this prayer, sent a vivid flash of lightning, which played about the colossal image, illuminating it, but leaving it quite unharmed.

The Greeks were indebted to Phidias for many of their most exquisite statues of the gods; but none of the others equaled this figure of Jupiter in size, dignity of attitude, or elaborate finish.

“Wise Phidias, thus his skill to prove,Through many a god advanc’d to Jove,And taught the polish’d rocks to shineWith airs and lineaments divine;Till Greece, amaz’d, and half afraid,Th’ assembled deities survey’d.”Addison.

Refer to captionJUNO. (Vatican, Rome.)

JUNO. (Vatican, Rome.)

Juno’s marriage.

Juno(Hera, Here), queen of heaven, and goddess of the atmosphere and of marriage, was the daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and consequently the sister of Jupiter; but, as soon as the latter had dethroned his parents and seized the scepter, he began to look about him for a suitable helpmate. Juno won his affections by her great beauty; and he immediately began his courtship, which he carried on in the guise of a cuckoo, to infuse a little romance into it. He evidently found favor in her sight, and won her consent to share his throne; for shortly afterward their wedding was celebrated with great pomp on Mount Olympus. It was on this solemn occasion that the immortal conclave of the gods declared that Juno should be henceforth honored as goddess of marriage.

“Juno, who presidesSupreme o’er bridegrooms and o’er brides.”Virgil(Conington’s tr.).

But although in the beginning this union seemed very happy, there soon arose subjects for contention; for unfortunately Jupiter was inclined to be faithless, and Juno jealous, and, like the element she personified, exceedingly variable in her moods. On such occasions she gave way to her violent temper, and bitterly reproached her husband, who, impatient of her censure, punished her severely, and, instead of reforming, merely continued his numerous intrigues with renewed zest.

Story of Callisto and Arcas.

On one occasion he fell deeply in love with a maiden namedCallisto, gentle, fair, and slender; but, in spite of all the precautions which he took when visiting her, Juno discovered the object of his affections. Night and day she thought and planned, until she devised a species of revenge which seemed adequate. The graceful girl was suddenly bereft of speech, changed into a rough, ungainly bear, and driven out into the solitudes of the great forests, which were from that time forth to be her home. Jupiter vainly sought his missing ladylove, and it was only long afterward that he discovered her and her little bear son Arcas. In pity for all they had suffered, he transferred them both to the sky, where they are still known as the constellations of the Great and Little Bear.

Juno’s attendant.

Juno, like her husband, had also her special attendant, Iris (the Rainbow), whom she frequently employed as messenger,—a task which this deity accomplished with as much celerity as Mercury. Her flight through the air was so rapid, that she was seldom seen; and no one would have known she had passed, had it not been for the brilliant trail her many-colored robe left behind her in the sky.

“Like fiery clouds, that flush with ruddy glare,Or Iris, gliding through the purple air;When loosely girt her dazzling mantle flows,And ’gainst the sun in arching colors glows.”Flaccus(Elton’s tr.).

Juno is the mother of Mars, Hebe, and Vulcan, and is always described and represented as a beautiful, majestic woman, clad in flowing robes, with a diadem and scepter. The peacock and cuckoo were both sacred to her, and are therefore often seen at her side.

Refer to captionIRIS.—Tito Conti.

IRIS.—Tito Conti.

Worship of Juno.

Her principal places of worship were at Mycenæ, Sparta, Argos, Rome, and Heræum. She had also numerous other sanctuaries scattered throughout the ancient world, and was worshiped in the same temples as Jupiter. Many fine statues of this goddess were found in Greece and Italy, someof which are still extant, and serve to show the ancients’ exalted conception of the Queen of Heaven.

Story of Cleobis and Biton.

Juno’s festivals, the Matronalia, in Rome, were always celebrated with great pomp. Less important feasts were held in each city where a temple was dedicated to her. On one of these occasions an old priestess was very anxious to go to the temple at Argos, where she had ministered to the goddess for many years, and which she had left only to be married. The way was long and dusty: so the aged woman, who could no longer walk such a distance, bade her sons, Cleobis and Biton, harness her white heifers to her car. The youths hastened to do her bidding; but, although they searched diligently, the heifers could not be found. Rather than disappoint their aged mother, who had set her heart upon attending the services, these kind-hearted sons harnessed themselves to the cart, and drew her through the city to the temple gates, amid the acclamations of all the people, who admired this trait of filial devotion.

The mother was so touched by her sons’ affection, that, as she knelt before the altar, she fervently prayed Juno to bestow upon them the greatest boon in her power. At the conclusion of the services the ex-priestess went into the portico, where her sons had thrown themselves to rest after their unwonted exertions; but instead of finding them merely asleep, as she expected, she found them dead. The Queen of Heaven had transported them while asleep to the Elysian Fields, the place of endless bliss, where such as they enjoyed eternal life.

Birth of Minerva.

Althoughimmortal, the gods were not exempt from physical pain. One day Jupiter suffered intensely from a sudden headache, and, in hopes that some mode of alleviation would be devised, he summoned all the gods to Olympus. Their united efforts were vain, however; and even the remedies suggested by Apollo, god of medicine, proved inefficacious. Unwilling, or perchance unable, to endure the racking pain any longer, Jupiter bade one of his sons, Vulcan, cleave his head open with an ax. With cheerful alacrity the dutiful god obeyed; and no sooner was the operation performed, than Minerva (Pallas, Athene) sprang out of her father’s head, full-grown, clad in glittering armor, with poised spear, and chanting a triumphant song of victory.

“From his awful headWhom Jove brought forth, in warlike armor drest,Golden, all radiant.”Shelley.

The assembled gods recoiled in fear before this unexpected apparition, while at the same time a mighty commotion over land and sea proclaimed the advent of a great divinity.

The goddess, who had thus joined the inhabitants of Olympus, was destined to preside over peace, defensive war, and needlework, to be the incarnation of wisdom, and to put to flight the obscure deity called Dullness, who until then had ruled the world.

Refer to captionMINERVA. (National Museum, Naples.)

MINERVA. (National Museum, Naples.)

“Ere Pallas issu’d from the Thund’rer’s head,Dullness o’er all possess’d her ancient right,Daughter of Chaos and eternal Night.”Pope.

Minerva, having forced her unattractive predecessor to beat an ignominious retreat, quickly seized the scepter, and immediately began to rule in her stead.

Naming of Athens.

Not long after her birth, Cecrops, a Phœnician, came to Greece, where he founded a beautiful city in the province since called Attica. All the gods watched his undertaking with great interest; and finally, seeing the town promised to become a thriving place, each wished the privilege of naming it. A general council was held, and after some deliberation most of the gods withdrew their claims. Soon none but Minerva and Neptune were left to contend for the coveted honor.

To settle the quarrel without evincing any partiality, Jupiter announced that the city would be intrusted to the protection of the deity who would create the most useful object for the use of man. Raising his trident, Neptune struck the ground, from which a noble horse sprang forth, amid the exclamations of wonder and admiration of all the spectators. His qualities were duly explained by his proud creator, and all thought it quite impossible for Minerva to surpass him. Loudly they laughed, and scornfully too, when she, in her turn, produced an olive tree; but when she had told them the manifold uses to which wood, fruit, foliage, twigs, etc., could be applied, and explained that the olive was a sign of peace and prosperity, and therefore far more desirable than the horse, the emblem of war and wretchedness, they could but acknowledge her gift the most serviceable, and award her the prize.

To commemorate this victory over her rival, Minerva gave her own name of Athene to the city, whose inhabitants, from that time forth, were taught to honor her as their tutelary goddess.

Ever at Jupiter’s side, Minerva often aided him by her wise counsels, and in times of war borrowed his terrible shield, the Ægis, which she flung over her shoulder when she sallied forth to give her support to those whose cause was just.

“Her shoulder boreThe dreadful Ægis with its shaggy brimBordered with Terror. There was Strife, and thereWas Fortitude, and there was fierce Pursuit,And there the Gorgon’s head, a ghastly sight,Deformed and dreadful, and a sign of woe.”Homer(Bryant’s tr.).

The din of battle had no terrors for this doughty goddess, and on every occasion she was wont to plunge into the thickest of the fray with the utmost valor.

Story of Arachne.

These virile tastes were, however, fully counterbalanced by some exclusively feminine, for Minerva was as deft with her needle as with her sword. In Greece there lived in those olden times a maiden by the name of Arachne. Pretty, young, and winsome, she would have been loved by all had it not been for her inordinate pride, not in her personal advantages, but in her skill as a needlewoman.

Arachne, in her conceit, fancied that no one could equal the work done by her deft fingers, so she boasted far and wide that she would have no fear to match her skill with Minerva’s. She made this remark so loudly and so frequently, that the goddess was finally annoyed, and left her seat in high Olympus to come down upon earth and punish the maiden. In the guise of an old crone, she entered Arachne’s house, seated herself, and began a conversation. In a few minutes the maiden had resumed her usual strain, and renewed her rash boast. Minerva gently advised her to be more modest, lest she should incur the wrath of the gods by her presumptuous words; but Arachne was so blinded by her conceit, that she scorned the well-meant warning, saucily tossed her head, and declared she wished the goddess would hear her, and propose a contest, in which she wouldsurely be able to prove the truth of her assertions. This insolent speech so incensed Minerva, that she cast aside her disguise and accepted the challenge.

Both set up their looms, and began to weave exquisite designs in tapestry: Minerva choosing as her subject her contest with Neptune; and Arachne, the kidnapping of Europa. In silence the fair weavers worked, and their webs grew apace under their practiced fingers. The assembled gods, the horse, the olive tree, seemed to live and move under Minerva’s flashing shuttle.

“Emongst these leaves she made a Butterflie,With excellent device and wondrous slight,Fluttring among the Olives wantonly,That seem’d to live, so like it was in sight:The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie,The silken downe with which his backe is dight,His broad outstretched hornes, his hayrie thies,His glorious colours, and his glistering eies.”Spenser.

Arachne, in the mean while, was intent upon her swimming bull, against whose broad breast the waves splashed, and upon a half-laughing, half-frightened girl, who clung to the bull’s horns, while the wind played with her flowing tresses and garments.

“Sweet Europa’s mantle blew unclasp’d,From off her shoulder backward borne:From one hand droop’d a crocus: one hand grasp’dThe mild bull’s golden horn.”Tennyson.

The finishing touches all given, each turned to view her rival’s work, and at the very first glance Arachne was forced to acknowledge her failure. To be thus outstripped, after all her proud boasts, was humiliating indeed. Bitterly did Arachne now repent of her folly; and in her despair she bound a rope about her neck, and hung herself. Minerva saw her discomfited rival was about to escape: so she quickly changed her dangling bodyinto a spider, and condemned her to weave and spin without ceasing,—a warning to all conceited mortals.

Worship of Minerva.

Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, was widely worshiped. Temples and altars without number were dedicated to her service, the most celebrated of all being the Parthenon at Athens. Naught but the ruins of this mighty pile now exist; but they suffice to testify to the beauty of the edifice, which served, in turn, as temple, church, mosque, and finally as powder magazine.

“Fair Parthenon! yet still must Fancy weepFor thee, thou work of nobler spirits flown.Bright, as of old, the sunbeams o’er thee sleepIn all their beauty still—and thine is gone!Empires have sunk since thou wert first revered.And varying rites have sanctified thy shrine.The dust is round thee of the race that rear’dThy walls; and thou—their fate must soon be thine!”Hemans.

Statues of Minerva—a beautiful, majestic woman, fully clothed and armed—were very numerous. The most celebrated of all, by the renowned Greek sculptor Phidias, measured full forty feet in height. Festivals were celebrated in honor of Minerva wherever her worship was held,—some, the Greek Panathenæa, for instance, only every four years; others, such as the Minervalia and Quinquatria, every year. At these festivals the Palladium, a statue of the goddess, said to have fallen from heaven, was carried in procession through the city, where the people hailed its appearance with joyful cries and songs of praise.

Themost glorious and beautiful among all the gods was Apollo (Phœbus, Sol, Helios, Cynthius, Pytheus), god of the sun, of medicine, music, poetry, and all fine arts.

“Bright-hair’d Apollo!—thou who ever artA blessing to the world—whose mighty heartForever pours out love, and light, and life;Thou, at whose glance, all things of earth are rifeWith happiness; to whom, in early spring,Bright flowers raise up their heads, where’er they clingOn the steep mountain side, or in the valeAre nestled calmly. Thou at whom the paleAnd weary earth looks up, when winter flees,With patient gaze: thou for whom wind-stripped treesPut on fresh leaves, and drink deep of the lightThat glitters in thine eye: thou in whose brightAnd hottest rays the eagle fills his eyeWith quenchless fire, and far, far up on highScreams out his joy to thee, by all the namesThat thou dost bear—whether thy godhead claimsPhœbus or Sol, or golden-hair’d Apollo,Cynthian or Pythian, if thou dost followThe fleeing night, oh, hearOur hymn to thee, and willingly draw near!”Pike.

Apollo was the son of Jupiter and Latona, or Leto, the goddess of dark nights. Juno’s jealousy had been aroused by Jupiter’s preference for her rival. To avenge herself, she banishedLatona to earth, and declared that if any one, mortal or immortal, showed her any pity or gave her any assistance, he would incur her lasting resentment.

After long, painful wanderings on earth, poor Latona, weary and parched with thirst, drew near a small pool by the wayside to refresh herself; but, urged by Juno, some reapers bade her pass on, and then, seeing she paid no heed to their commands, they sprang into the shallow waters, and stirred up the mud at the bottom until it was quite unpalatable. With tear-dimmed eyes, Latona prayed these cruel men might never leave the spot whereon they now stood; and Jupiter, in answer to her prayer, immediately transformed them into huge green frogs, which creatures have since then showed great preference for muddy pools.

Driven on once more by Juno’s unrelenting hatred, Latona finally came to the seashore, where she stretched out imploring hands to Neptune, who sent a dolphin to bear her in safety to the floating island of Delos, raised in her behalf from the depths of the sea. The rocking motion, however, proving disagreeable to the goddess, Neptune chained the island fast in the Ægean Sea; and there in that delightful climate, justly praised by poets, were born to Jupiter and Latona twin children, Apollo and Diana, the divinities of the sun and moon.

Story of Coronis.

Apollo, having attained manhood, could not avoid the usual lot of the gods, as well as of mortal men,—the pangs of love. They were first inspired by Coronis, a fair maiden, who kindled within his breast an ardent flame. The sun god wooed the girl warmly and persistently, and at length had the deep satisfaction of seeing his affections returned. His bliss, however, proved but fleeting; for Coronis, reasoning, that, if one lover were so delightful, two would be doubly so, secretly encouraged another suitor.

“Flirted with another lover(So at least the story goes)And was wont to meet him slyly,Underneath the blushing rose.”Saxe.

Although so cleverly managed, these trysts could not escape the bright eyes of Apollo’s favorite bird, the snowy raven,—for such was his hue in those early times,—soheflew off in haste to his master to report the discovery he had made. Desperate with love and jealousy, Apollo did not hesitate, but, seizing his bow and deadly arrows, shot Coronis through the heart.

The deed was no sooner accomplished, than all his love returned with tenfold power; and, hastening to Coronis’ side, he vainly tried all his remedies (he was god of medicine) to recall her to life.

“The god of PhysicHad no antidote; alack!He who took her off so deftlyCouldn’t bring the maiden back!”Saxe.

Bending over the lifeless body of his beloved one, he bewailed his fatal haste, and cursed the bird which had brought him the unwelcome tidings of her faithlessness.

“Then he turned upon the Raven,‘Wanton babbler! see thy fate!Messenger of mine no longer,Go to Hades with thy prate!“‘Weary Pluto with thy tattle!Hither, monster, come not back;And—to match thy disposition—Henceforth be thy plumage black!’”Saxe.

“Then he turned upon the Raven,‘Wanton babbler! see thy fate!Messenger of mine no longer,Go to Hades with thy prate!

“‘Weary Pluto with thy tattle!Hither, monster, come not back;And—to match thy disposition—Henceforth be thy plumage black!’”Saxe.

Æsculapius.

The only reminder of this unfortunate episode was a young son of Apollo and Coronis, Æsculapius (Asklepios), who was carefully instructed by Apollo in the healing art. The disciple’s talent was so great, that he soon rivaled his master, and even, it is said, recalled the dead to life. Of course, these miracles did not long remain concealed from Jupiter’s all-seeing eye; and he, fearing lest the people wouldforget him and worship their physician, seized one of his thunderbolts, hurled it at the clever youth, and thus brought to an untimely end his brilliant medical career.

“Then Jove, incensed that man should riseFrom darkness to the upper skies,The leech that wrought such healing hurledWith lightning down to Pluto’s world.”Virgil(Conington’s tr.).

Æsculapius’ race was not entirely extinct, however, for he left two sons—Machaon and Podalirius, who inherited his medical skill—and a daughter, Hygeia, who watched over the health of man.

Admetus and Alcestis.

Maddened with grief at the unexpected loss of his son, Apollo would fain have wreaked his vengeance upon the Cyclopes, the authors of the fatal thunderbolt; but ere he could execute his purpose, Jupiter interfered, and, to punish him, banished him to earth, where he entered the service of Admetus, King of Thessaly. One consolation alone now remained to the exiled god,—his music. His dulcet tones soon won the admiration of his companions, and even that of the king, who listened to his songs with pleasure, and to reward him gave him the position of head shepherd.

“Then King Admetus, one who hadPure taste by right divine,Decreed his singing not too badTo hear between the cups of wine:“And so, well pleased with being soothedInto a sweet half sleepThree times his kingly beard he smoothedAnd made him viceroy o’er his sheep.”Lowell.

“Then King Admetus, one who hadPure taste by right divine,Decreed his singing not too badTo hear between the cups of wine:

“And so, well pleased with being soothedInto a sweet half sleepThree times his kingly beard he smoothedAnd made him viceroy o’er his sheep.”Lowell.

Time passed. Apollo, touched by his master’s kindness, wished to bestow some favor in his turn, and asked the gods to grant Admetus eternal life. His request was complied with, but only oncondition, that, when the time came which had previously been appointed for the good king’s death, some one should be found willing to die in his stead. This divine decree was reported to Alcestis, Admetus’ beautiful young wife, who in a passion of self-sacrifice offered herself as substitute, and cheerfully gave her life for her husband. But immortality was too dearly bought at such a price; and Admetus mourned until Hercules, pitying his grief, descended into Hades, and brought her back from the tomb.

“Did not Hercules by forceWrest from the guardian Monster of the tombAlcestis, a reanimated Corse,Given back to dwell on earth in vernal bloom?”Wordsworth.

The walls of Troy.

Apollo, after endowing Admetus with immortality, left his service, and went to assist Neptune, who had also been banished to earth, to build the walls of Troy. Scorning to perform any menial tasks, the God of Music seated himself near by, and played such inspiring tunes that the stones waltzed into place of their own accord.

Apollo slays Python.

Then, his term of exile being ended, he returned to heaven, and there resumed his wonted duties. From his exalted position he often cast loving glances down upon men, whose life he had shared for a short time, whose every privation he had endured; and, in answer to their prayers, he graciously extended his protection over them, and delivered them from misfortunes too numerous to mention. Among other deeds done for men was the slaying of the monster serpent Python, born from the slime and stagnant waters which remained upon the surface of the earth after the Deluge. None had dared approach the monster; but Apollo fearlessly drew near, and slew him with his golden shafts. The victory over the terrible Python won for Apollo the surname of Pytheus (the Slayer), by which appellation he was frequently invoked.

Refer to captionAPOLLO BELVEDERE. (Vatican, Rome.)

APOLLO BELVEDERE. (Vatican, Rome.)

This annihilation of Python is, of course, nothing but anallegory, illustrating the sun’s power to dry up marshes and stagnant pools, thus preventing the lurking fiend malaria from making further inroads.

Apollo has always been a favorite subject for painters and sculptors. The most beautiful statue of him is the Apollo Belvedere, which represents him at the moment of his conquest of the Python.

Apollo and Hyacinthus.

Although successful in war, Apollo was very unfortunate indeed in friendship. One day he came down to earth to enjoy the society of a youth of mortal birth, named Hyacinthus. To pass the time agreeably, the friends began a game of quoits, but had not played long, before Zephyrus, god of the south wind, passing by, saw them thus occupied. Jealous of Apollo, for he too loved Hyacinthus, Zephyrus blew Apollo’s quoit aside so violently that it struck his playmate, and felled him to the ground. Vainly Apollo strove to check the stream of blood which flowed from the ghastly wound. Hyacinthus was already beyond aid, and in a few seconds breathed his last in his friend’s arms. To keep some reminder of the departed, Apollo changed the fallen blood drops into clusters of flowers, ever since called, from the youth’s name, hyacinths; while Zephyrus, perceiving too late the fatal effect of his jealousy, hovered inconsolable over the sad spot, and tenderly caressed the dainty flowers which had sprung from his friend’s lifeblood.

“Zephyr penitent,Who now, ere Phœbus mounts the firmament,Fondles the flower.”Keats.

Apollo and Cyparissus.

To divert his mind from the mournful fate of Hyacinthus, Apollo sought the company of Cyparissus, a clever young hunter; but this friendship was also doomed to a sad end, for Cyparissus, having accidentally killed Apollo’s pet stag, grieved so sorely over this mischance, that he pined away, and finally died. Apollo then changed his lifeless clay into acypress tree, which he declared should henceforth be used to shade the graves of those who had been greatly beloved through life.

Apollo and Daphne.

Some time after this episode, Apollo encountered in the forest a beautiful nymph by the name of Daphne, the daughter of the river god Peneus. Love at first sight was the immediate consequence on Apollo’s part, and he longed to speak to the maid and win her affections. He first tried to approach her gently, so as not to frighten her; but, before he could reach her side, she fled, and he, forgetful of all else, pursued her flying footsteps. As he ran, he called aloud to Daphne, entreating her to pause were it only for a moment, and promising to do her no harm.

“Abate, fair fugitive, abate thy speed,Dismiss thy fears, and turn thy beauteous head;With kind regard a panting lover view;Less swiftly fly, less swiftly I’ll pursue:Pathless, alas! and rugged is the ground,Some stone may hurt thee, or some thorn may wound.“You fly, alas! not knowing whom you fly;No ill-bred swain, nor rustic clown, am I.”Prior.

“You fly, alas! not knowing whom you fly;No ill-bred swain, nor rustic clown, am I.”Prior.

The terrified girl paid no heed to promises or entreaties, but sped on until her strength began to fail, and she perceived, that, notwithstanding her utmost efforts, her pursuer was gaining upon her. Panting and trembling, she swerved aside, and rushed down to the edge of her father’s stream, calling out loudly for his protection. No sooner had she reached the water’s edge, than her feet seemed rooted to the ground. A rough bark rapidly inclosed her quivering limbs, while her trembling hands were filled with leaves. Her father had granted her prayer by changing her into a laurel tree.

Refer to captionAPOLLO AND DAPHNE.—Bernini. (Villa Borghese, Rome.)

APOLLO AND DAPHNE.—Bernini. (Villa Borghese, Rome.)

Apollo, coming up just then with outstretched arms, clasped nothing but a rugged tree trunk. At first he could not realize that the fair maiden had vanished from his sight forever; but,when the truth dawned upon him, he declared that from henceforth the laurel would be considered his favorite tree, and that prizes awarded to poets, musicians, etc., should consist of a wreath of its glossy foliage.

“I espouse thee for my tree:Be thou the prize of honor and renown;The deathless poet, and the poem, crown;Thou shalt the Roman festivals adorn,And, after poets, be by victors worn.”Ovid(Dryden’s tr.).

This story of Apollo and Daphne was an illustration of the effect produced by the sun (Apollo) upon the dew (Daphne). The sun is captivated by its beauty, and longs to view it more closely; the dew, afraid of its ardent lover, flies, and, when its fiery breath touches it, vanishes, leaving nothing but verdure in the selfsame spot where but a moment before it sparkled in all its purity.

Cephalus and Procris.

The ancients had many analogous stories, allegories of the sun and dew, amongst others the oft-quoted tale of Cephalus and Procris. Cephalus was a hunter, who fell in love with and married one of Diana’s nymphs, Procris. She brought him as dowry a hunting dog, Lelaps, and a javelin warranted never to miss its mark. The newly married pair were perfectly happy; but their content was viewed with great displeasure by Eos (Aurora), goddess of dawn, who had previously tried, but without success, to win Cephalus’ affections, and who now resolved to put an end to the bliss she envied.

All day long Cephalus hunted in the forest, and, when the evening shadows began to fall, joined his loving wife in their cozy dwelling. Her marriage gifts proved invaluable, as Lelaps was swift of foot, and tireless in the chase. One day, to test his powers, the gods from Olympus watched him course a fox, a special creation of theirs; and so well were both animals matched in speed and endurance, that the chase bade fair to end only with the death of one or both of the participants. The gods, intheir admiration for the fine run, declared the animals deserved to be remembered forever, and changed them into statues, which retained all the spirited action of the living creatures.

In the warm season, when the sun became oppressive, Cephalus was wont to rest during the noon hour in some shady spot, and as he flung himself down upon the short grass he often called for a breeze, bidding it cool his heated brow.

“A hunter once in that grove reclin’d,To shun the noon’s bright eye,And oft he woo’d the wandering wind,To cool his brow with its sigh.While mute lay ev’n the wild bee’s hum,Nor breath could stir the aspen’s hair,His song was still, ‘Sweet air, oh come!’While Echo answer’d, ‘Come, sweet air!’”Moore.

Eos heard of this habit, and was fully aware that he merely addressed the passing wind; nevertheless she sought Procris, and informed her that her husband was faithless, and paid court to a fair maid, who daily met him at noonday in the forest solitudes. Procris, blinded by sudden jealousy, gave credit to the false story, and immediately resolved to follow her husband.

The morning had well-nigh passed, and the sun was darting its perpendicular rays upon the earth, when Cephalus came to his usual resort, near which Procris was concealed.

“Sweet air, oh come!” the hunter cried; and Procris, cut to the heart by what she considered an infallible proof of his infidelity, sank fainting to the ground. The rustle caused by her swoon attracted Cephalus’ attention. Under the mistaken impression that some wild beast was lurking there, ready to pounce upon him, he cast his unerring javelin into the very midst of the thicket, and pierced the faithful bosom of his wife. Her dying moan brought him with one bound to her side; ere she breathed her last, an explanation was given and received; and Procris died with the blissful conviction that her husband had notdeserved her unjust suspicions, and that his heart was all her own.

There are, of course, many other versions of these selfsame myths; but one and all are intended to illustrate the same natural phenomena, and are subject to the same interpretation.

Apollo’s principal duty was to drive the sun chariot. Day after day he rode across the azure sky, nor paused on his way till he reached the golden boat awaiting him at the end of his long day’s journey, to bear him in safety back to his eastern palace.

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