Klassiske myter i engelsk litteratur og i kunst (2. utg.) (1911)

=1. Studiens formål.= Innvevd i vår engelske litteraturs stoff, i våre epos, dramaer, lyrikk og romaner, i våre essays og taler, som en gyllen renning der veften altfor ofte bare er av sølv, er mytene fra visse gamle nasjoner. Det er denne bokens hensikt å gjenfortelle noen av disse mytene og å illustrere bruken de har fått i engelsk litteratur, og, leilighetsvis, i kunst.

=2. = Det må skilles nøye mellom fabelen og myten. En fabel er en fortelling, som den om kong Stokk eller Reven og druene, der karakterer og handling, som hverken gir seg ut for å være virkelige eller krever tiltro, er diktet opp nettopp som redskap for moralsk eller didaktisk undervisning. Dr. Johnson innsnevrer fabelens område ytterligere: «Den synes, i sin ekte tilstand, å være en fortelling der irrasjonelle og iblant livløse vesener for det moralske lærestykkets skyld fremstilles som om de handler og taler med menneskelige interesser og lidenskaper.» Myter derimot er fortellinger av ukjent opphav, utbredt blant primitive folk og av dem godtatt som sanne, om overnaturlige vesener og hendelser, eller om naturlige vesener og hendelser påvirket av overnaturlige krefter.

Fabler lages av enkeltpersoner; de kan fortelles i ethvert stadium av en nasjons historie – av en Jotam da israelittene ennå var under dommerne, 1200 år før Kristus, eller av Kristus selv i den mest kritiske jødiske lærdomstiden; av en Menenius da Roma fremdeles var innhyllet i småkrangler mellom plebeiere og patrisiere, eller av Faedrus og Horats i den augusteiske tidsalder for romersk imperialisme og romersk litteratur; av en Æsop, som selv er nærmest fabelaktig, til fabelaktige medslaver og athenske tyranner, eller av La Fontaine til Solkongen og den mest siviliserte rase i 1600-tallets Europa.

Fabler er bestillingskar som en lekse kan helles opp i. Myter blir født, ikke laget. De blir født i et folks barndom. De skylder ikke sine trekk til noen enkelt historisk person, men til generasjoner av fortelleres dikteriske anstrengelser. Myten om Pandora, den første kvinnen, utstyrt av de udødelige med himmelske ynder, og om Prometheus, som stjal ild fra himmelen til menneskenes bruk; myten om de jordfødte kjempene som i begynnelsen kjempet med gudene om verdensherredømmet; om månegudinnen som med sine hærkledde nymfer jager over himmelens asurblå eller som, stigende ned til jorden, elsker ynglingen Endymion – disse mytene, spirende ut av en underlig og barnslig tolkning av naturhendelser eller av en fantasi rundt arnestedet, har ubevisst, under pleie av det enkle folket som unnfanget og stelte dem, satt frem frodige forgreninger og blader av fortelling, og blomstrer av poetisk skjønnhet og form.

Mytene vi skal gjenfortelle fremstiller forunderlige beretninger om skapelsen, historier om tallrike guddommelige vesener, helters eventyr der magiske og åndeaktige krefter spiller inn, og der dyr og den livløse natur ikler seg menneskers og guders egenskaper. Mange av disse mytene handler om guddommer som en gang ble tilbedt av grekerne og romerne, og av våre norrøne og germanske forfedre i de mørke århundrene. Myter, mer eller mindre lik disse, kan finnes i nær sagt alle nasjoners litteratur; mange er i minnene og på leppene til ville folkeslag som eksisterer i dag. Men fortellingene som gjenfortelles her, blir ikke lenger trodd av noen. De såkalte guddommene fra Olympen og Åsgard har ikke en eneste tilbeder blant menneskene. De bor kun i minnets og fantasiens rike; de er tronende i kunstens palass.

Fortellingene fra gresk, romersk, norrøn og germansk mytologi som har hatt størst innflytelse på vår engelske litteratur, vil følge i den nevnte rekkefølgen. Romerne, av natur et praktisk, ikke et poetisk folk, innlemmet i sin litteratur grekernes mytologi. Vi skal imidlertid føye til vår beskrivelse av de greske gudene en kort fremstilling av de opprinnelige latinske guddommene som beholdt en egenart i romersk litteratur.

=3. Verdens opphav.=[2] Det fantes blant grekerne flere beretninger om tingenes begynnelse. Homer forteller oss at Okeanoselven, en dyp og mektig flom, som omslynget land og hav som en slange med halen i munnen, var kilden til alt. Ifølge andre myter var Natt og Mørke naturens urelementer, og fra dem sprang Lyset. En tredje teori, tilskrevet Orfeus, hevder at Tiden var i begynnelsen, men selv uten begynnelse; at fra ham utgikk Kaos, et gapende svelg der Natten og Tåken og den brennende luften, eller Eteren, ruget; at Tiden fikk tåken til å spinne rundt den sentrale ildluften inntil massen, idet den antok form av et enormt verdensegg, på grunn av sin raske rotasjon fløy i to halvdeler. Av disse var den ene Himmelen, den andre Jorden. Fra midten av egget utgikk Eros (Kjærligheten) og andre forunderlige vesener.

Men den mest konsekvente beretningen om verdens og gudenes opphav gis av dikteren Hesiod, som forteller oss at Kaos, det gapende svelget, sammensatt av Tomhet, Masse og Mørke i forvirring, gikk forut for alle andre ting. Deretter kom den bredbrystede Jorden til syne, og den vakre Kjærligheten som skulle herske i guders og menneskers hjerter. Men fra Kaos selv utgikk Erebos,[3] det gåtefulle mørket under Jorden – og Natten, boende i solnedgangens fjerne egner.

Fra Moder Jord utgikk først Himmelens stjernebesatte hvelv, holdbart som messing eller jern, der gudene skulle ta opp sitt bosted. Jorden frembragte dernest fjellene og de fruktbare marker, de steinete slettene, havet, og plantene og dyrene som bebor dem.

=4. Gudenes opphav.= Så langt har vi en historie om den fysiske verdens veer og forandringer; nå begynner historien om guder og mennesker. For i skapelsens hjerte begynner Kjærligheten å røre seg, idet den av materielle ting danner skapninger av hankjønn og hunkjønn, og fører dem sammen ved instinktiv tiltrekning. Først blir Erebos og Natten, Kaos’ barn, viet, og fra dem springer Lyset og Dagen; deretter tar Uranus, den personifiserte Himmel, Gaia, Jorden, til ekte, og fra deres forening utgår titaner og hundrearmede uhyrer og kykloper.

Titanene[4] synes å være personifikasjoner av mektige omveltninger i den fysiske verden, av vulkanutbrudd og jordskjelv. De spilte en stridbar rolle i mytisk historie; de var oppviglere til hat og trette. Homer nevner spesielt to av dem, Iapetos og Kronos; men Hesiod oppregner tretten. Av disse er de viktigste Okeanos og Tethys, Hyperion og Theia, Kronos og Rhea, Iapetos, Themis og Mnemosyne. De tre Kyklopene representerte redslene ved den rullende torden, lynflammen og tordenkilen; og trolig ble av denne grunn ett ildøyne ansett som nok for hver. De hundrearmede uhyrer, eller Hekatoncheirene, var også tre i antall. I dem avbildet grekerne antagelig havet med dets tallrike bølger, dets brøl og dets brottsjøer som synes å ryste jorden. Disse lynøyde, disse hundrearmede uhyrer fryktet deres far Uranus og forsøkte å ødelegge dem ved å styrte dem ned i Tartaros, jordens dype avgrunn.

Hvorpå Moder Jord, eller Gaia, indignert, ropte på hjelp fra sine eldre barn, titanene. Ingen våget å støtte hennes sak unntatt Kronos, den listige. Med en jernsegl lå han på lur etter sin far, overfalt ham og drev ham, alvorlig såret, fra kampen. Fra den lemlestede Uranus’ blod sprang Erinyene til live, med hoder som kveiler seg av slanger; Gigantene, en ny slekt av uhyrer; og de meliske nymfene, de ubehagelige askespydmøyene.

=5. Kronos’ styre.= Nå følger Kronos’ regjering, herre over Himmel og Jord. Han er fra begynnelsen av uberegnelig høy alder. I kunstverk er hans hode tildekket, for å symbolisere hans list og hans forbeholdenhet; han bærer seglen ikke bare som minne om middelet han gjorde slutt på sin fars tyranni med, men som symbol på den nye perioden med vekst og gylne avlinger som han innvarslet.

I ukjente tidsaldre styrte Kronos og Rhea, hans søster-dronning, Himmel og Jord. De fikk tre døtre, Vesta, Ceres og Juno, og tre sønner, Pluto, Neptun og Jupiter. Kronos hadde imidlertid fått vite av sine foreldre at han skulle bli styrtet av ett av sine egne barn, og fant derfor på den velmente, men lite gjennomtenkte utveien å sluke hvert barn etter hvert som det ble født. Hans dronning, som naturligvis ønsket å motvirke skikken – da det ble hennes sjette barns tur, lurte hun den umettelige Kronos med en stein omhyggelig innhyllet i svøp. Jupiter (eller Zevs), det reddede barnet, ble gjemt på øya Kreta, der han, oppfostret av nymfene Adrasteia og Ida og ernært på melken fra geiten Amaltheia, i rett tid ble voksen. Så, med hjelp fra sin bestemor Gaia, tvang han Kronos til å spy ut byrdene fra sine kannibalmåltider.

Først kom den minneverdige steinen frem i lyset, som ble tatt vare på i Delfi; deretter Jupiters fem brødre og søstre, ivrige etter å hevne seg på den unaturlige opphavsmannen til deres eksistens og fangenskap.

=6. = I den påfølgende krigen stilte Iapetos og alle titanene, unntatt Okeanos, seg på sin bror Kronos’ side mot Jupiter og hans nylig gjenforede slektninger. Jupiter og hans hærskarer holdt Olympen. I tidsaldrer vaklet seieren i balanse. Til slutt slapp Jupiter, igjen etter Gaias råd, fri fra Tartaros, der Uranus hadde holdt dem fanget, Kyklopene og Hekatoncheirene. Øyeblikkelig ilte de til slagmarken i Thessalia, Kyklopene for å støtte Jupiter med sine tordener og lyn, de hundrearmede uhyrer med jordskjelvets rystelse. Utstyrt med slikt artilleri, rystende jord og hav, gikk Jupiter til stormangrep. Med lynglansen ble titanene blendet, av jordskjelvet ble de kastet i bakken, av flammene ble de nær fortært: overmannet og lenket av Hekatoncheirenes hender ble de overgitt til Tartaros’ gapende hule. Atlas, Iapetos’ sønn, ble dømt til å bære himmelhvelvet på sine skuldre.

Men en mer berømt sønn av samme titan, Prometheus, som hadde tatt Jupiters parti, oppnådde senere en verdighet som skal omtales.

=7. Riksdelingen.= I det påfølgende guderådet ble Jupiter valgt til verdens hersker. Han delegaterte til sin bror Neptun (eller Poseidon) herredømmet over havet og alle vann; til sin bror Pluto (eller Hades) styret over underverdenen, mørk, usynlig, gåtefull, der de dødes ånder skulle bo, og over Tartaros, der de falne titanene ble holdt. Selv beholdt Jupiter Jorden og Himmelen, i hvis brede og solfylte regioner Olympen raget, de mektigere gudenes yndlingsfjell.[5]

=8. = Nye konflikter ventet imidlertid dette nye himmeldynastiet – konflikter som er emne for mang en fortelling blant de gamle. Gaia, skjønt hun hadde hjulpet sin sønnesønn Jupiter i krigen mot Kronos, ble snart grepet av samvittighetskvaler; og når hun betraktet sine sønner titanenes grusomme skjebne, utklekket hun hevnplaner mot deres beseirer. En annen sønn ble født henne – Tyfon, et uhyre frykteligere enn sine forgjengere – hvis skjebne det var å bestride den allmektige Zevs’ makt. Fra Tyfons nakke bredte det seg hundre dragehoder; hans øyne skjøt ild, og fra hans svarttungede kjever kom slangers hvesing, oksers brøling, løvers brøl, hunders bjeffing, piping og skrik, og, til tider, selve gudenes røst og tale. Mot Himmelen reiste denne skrekk seg; men vek tilbake for Jupiters tordenkile og steg også ned til Tartaros, sitt eget sted og sine brødres bolig.

Den dag i dag brummer og hveser han imidlertid, stikker en ildtunge opp gjennom et vulkankrater, eller, pustende scirocco, svir trær og mennesker.

Senere ennå fornyet Gigantene, avkom av blodet som falt fra den sårede Uranus, oppstanden mot de olympiske gudene. De var skapninger som sto menneskene nærmere enn titanene, eller Kyklopene, eller Tyfon. De kledde seg i dyrehuder og væpnet seg med klippestykker og trestammer. Deres kropper og nedre lemmer var av slanger. De var fryktelige å møte eller se på. [6] Av Gigantene var de mektigere Alkyoneus over vinterstormene og isfjellene, Pallas og Enkelados, og Porfyrion ildkongen – flokkens leder. I krigen mot dem tok Juno og Minerva, guddommer i det nye himmeldynastiet, aktivt del – og Hercules, en jordisk sønn av Jupiter, hvis piler bidro til deres nederlag. [7] I rett tid ble Gigantene, som titanene og Tyfon, begravet i det evige mørkes avgrunn. Hvilket annet utfall kan ventes når bare fysisk eller brutal kraft tar opp kampen mot himmelens opplyste og slagordnede hærskarer?

=9. Menneskenes opphav= var et spørsmål som grekerne ikke avgjorde like lett som hebreerne. Greske tradisjoner fører ikke alle mennesker tilbake til et opprinnelig par. Tvert imot var den alminnelig godtatte oppfatning at mennesker vokste ut av trær og steiner, eller ble frembrakt av elvene eller havet. Noen sa at både mennesker og guder var avledet av Moder Jord, og derfor begge autoktone; og noen hevdet faktisk at menneskeslekten var like gammel som guddommene. Alle fortellinger er imidlertid enige om én ting – at gudene opprettholdt nære forbindelser med menneskene inntil det, på grunn av menneskenes voksende syndighet og overmot, ble nødvendig for de udødelige å trekke sin gunst tilbake.

=10. = Det finnes en fortelling som tilskriver skapelsen av mennesket til Prometheus, hvis far Iapetos sammen med Kronos hadde motsatt seg Jupiters overherredømme. I den konflikten hadde Prometheus, utstyrt med profetisk visdom, tatt de olympiske gudenes parti. Til ham og hans bror Epimetheus ble nå vervet å skape mennesket og å utstyre det og alle andre dyr med de evner som trengtes for deres bevarelse. Prometheus skulle overvåke Epimetheus’ arbeid. Epimetheus gav seg til å tildele de forskjellige dyrene de ulike gavene mot, styrke, hurtighet, kløkt; vinger til én, klør til en annen, et skjoldaktig dekke til en tredje. Men Prometheus selv laget et edlere dyr enn disse. Han tok noe jord, eltet det med vann og dannet mennesket i gudenes bilde. Han gav det en oppreist skikkelse, slik at mens andre dyr vender ansiktet mot jorden, skuer mennesket på stjernene.

Ettersom Epimetheus, alltid ubetenksom og etterpåklok, hadde vært så rundhåndet med sine gaver til andre dyr at ingen velsignelse var igjen verd å skjenke den edleste av skapninger, steg Prometheus opp til himmelen, tente sin fakkel ved solvognen og brakte ned ilden. Med ilden i sin besittelse ville mennesket kunne vinne hemmeligheter og skatter fra jorden, utvikle handel, vitenskap og kunst.

=11. Gullalderen.= Hvorvidt på denne måten eller på andre måter verden ble befolket, var den første tidsalder en tid med uskyld og lykke. Sannhet og rett rådde, skjønt ikke håndhevet ved lov, og det fantes ingen overordnede til å true eller straffe. Skogen var ennå ikke plyndret for trær for å gi tømmer til skip, og menneskene hadde ikke bygget befestninger rundt sine byer. Det fantes ikke slike ting som sverd, spyd eller hjelmer. Jorden bar frem alt som mennesket trengte uten at det måtte arbeide med pløying eller såing. Evig vår hersket, blomster sprang opp uten frø, elvene fløt med melk og vin, og gul honning dryppet fra eiketrærne. Denne gullalderen var begynt under Kronos’ styre.[8] Og når disse heltene sovnet inn i døden, ble de i en behagelig drøm overført til en åndelig tilværelse, der de, usynlige for dødelige øyne, fremdeles ledsaget menneskene som formanere og voktere.

=12. Sølvalderen= kom dernest, ringere enn gullalderen. Jupiter forkortet våren og delte året inn i årstider. Da led menneskene for første gang av ekstrem varme og kulde, og hus ble nødvendige. Huler var deres boliger – og løvtette skogskjul, og hytter flettet av kvister. Avlinger ville ikke lenger gro uten å plantes. Bonden ble tvunget til å så såkornet, og oksen til å dra plogen. Dette var en rase med mandige menn, men overmodige og ugudelige. Og da de døde, gjorde Jupiter dem til skygger i underverdenen, men nektet dem det udødelige livets privilegium.

=13. [9] For Kronos’ sønn hadde misunt de dødelige bruken av ild, og han overveide faktisk å tilintetgjøre dem og skape en ny slekt. Derfor forsøkte Prometheus en gang, da guder og mennesker lå i strid i Sikyon om begges særretter, ved et utspekulert knep å avgjøre spørsmålet til menneskenes fordel. Han delte en offerokse i to porsjoner og pakket alle de spiselige delene inn i skinnet, listig toppet med uinnbydende innvoller; men knoklene garnerte han med en tilsynelatende masse fett. Så tilbød han Jupiter valget. Himmelens konge, skjønt han forsto det aktede bedraget, tok haugen med knokler og fett, og straks han benyttet denne fornærmelsen som påskudd for å straffe menneskeheten, berøvet han slekten ilden. Men Prometheus gjenerobret skatten, idet han stjal den fra Himmelen i et hult rør.

=14. = Dobbelt rasende tok Jupiter på sin side tilflukt til list. Det sies at han planla for menneskene en forbannelse i kvinneskikkelse. Hvordan slekten hadde bestått hittil uten kvinne er et mysterium; men at den hadde gjort det med ingen liten grad av lykke, synes Gullalderens erfaring å bekrefte. Imidlertid ble det besnærende onderet formet – i Himmelen, passende nok – og enhver gud og gudinne bidro med noe til hennes fullkommenhet. Én gav henne skjønnhet, en annen overtalelsesevne, en tredje musikkens gave. Og de kalte henne Pandora, «gaver fra alle gudene». Slik utstyrt ble hun ført til jorden og presentert for Epimetheus, som uten å nøle tok imot gaven, skjønt han ble advart av sin bror mot Jupiter og alle hans ferd. Og advarselen var ikke grunnløs. I Pandoras hånd hadde de udødelige plassert en skrin eller krukke som hun var forbudt å åpne.

Overveldet av en uforklarlig nysgjerrighet etter å vite hva dette karet inneholdt, løftet hun en dag lokket og kikket nedi. Øyeblikkelig slapp det ut en mengde plager for det stakkars mennesket – gikt, revmatisme og kolikk for kroppen; misunnelse, ondskap og hevnlyst for sinnet – og spredte seg vidt og bredt. Pandora skyndte seg å sette lokket på plass igjen; men bare én ting var igjen i skrinet, og det var håpet.

=15. = På grunn av sin uselviske hengivelse til menneskehetens sak pådro Prometheus seg den olympiske Jupiters vrede, på hvis befaling han ble lenket til en klippe på fjellet Kaukasus og utsatt for angrep fra en ørn (eller en gribb) som i tidsaldrer fortærte leveren hans, uten likevel å lykkes i å fortære den helt. Denne plagetilstanden kunne ha blitt brakt til opphør når som helst av Prometheus, om han hadde vært villig til å underkaste seg sin undertrykker; for han eide en hemmelighet som angikk Jupiters tronstabilitet. Denne gikk ut på at Jupiter ville avle en sønn med en viss kvinne som skulle forstøte ham og gjøre ende på olympiernes makt. Guden ønsket naturligvis mer presis informasjon om denne skjebnebeslutningen. Men å røpe hemmeligheten avviste Prometheus. [10] Og i tidens fylde kom helten: ingen annen enn den mektige Hercules, ivrig etter å yte menneskeheten den høyeste tjeneste.

Ingen høyere tjeneste, tenker denne strålende og myndige personlighet – som, som vi skal se, allerede hadde renset verden for mange uhyrer – gjenstår å utføre enn å befri menneskehetens forkjemper som lider gjennom tidsaldrene fordi han brakte lys til verden. «Menneskets sjel,» sier Hercules til titanen –

Menneskets sjel kan aldri trelles Utover av sin egen skrøpelighet, ei heller befries Utover av sin egen styrke og egen beslutning Og stadige visjon og høyeste bestrebelse! Du vil bli fri? Så mot, å min bror! Å la sjelen stå i den åpne dør Til liv og død og kunnskap og begjær Og se tankens tinder tenne med soloppgang! Da skal sjelen vende tilbake for aldri mer å hvile, Ei heller høste drømmer i søvnens mørke åker – Snarere skal sjelen med stor beslutning gå For endelig å bo på de skinnende fjell I åpenhjertig samtale med de evige stjerner.[11]

Og han dreper gribben; og setter Jupiters offer fri.

Ved sitt vesen er Prometheus blitt forbilde på storsinnet utholdenhet og motstand mot undertrykkelse.

Titan! for hvis udødelige øyne Den dødeliges lidelser, Sett i deres sørgelige virkelighet, Ei var som ting guder forakter, Hva var din medlidenhets gjengjeld? En taus lidelse, og intens; Klippen, gribben og lenken, Alt det som de stolte kan føle av smerte, Den pine de ikke viser, Den kvelende fornemmelse av ve, Som bare taler i sin ensomhet, Og så er skinnsyk på at himmelen Skulle ha en lytter, ei heller vil sukke Før dets røst er ekkoløs….

Din gudelignende forbrytelse var å være god, Å gjøre med dine leveregler mindre Summen av menneskelig elendighet, Og styrke mennesket med dets eget sinn. Men forhindret som du ble fra det høye, Enda, i din tålmodige energi, I utholdenheten og tilbakestøtet Fra din ugjennomtrengelige ånd, Som jord og himmel ikke kunne ryste, En mektig lekse arver vi[12]….

=16. Longfellows Prometheus.= En treffende anvendelse av historien om Prometheus gjør Longfellow i de følgende vers:[13]

Om Prometheus, hvor uforferdet På Olympenens skinnende bastioner Han satte sin dristige fot, Fortelles myter, og synges sanger, Fulle av inngivelser og forslag.

Vakker er tradisjonen Om den flukten gjennom himmelske portaler, Den gamle klassiske overtroen Om tyveriet og overleveringen Av de Udødeliges ild!

Først dåden av edel dristighet, Født av himmelvendt higen, Så ilden med dødelige delt, Så gribben, – det fortvilete Smerteskrik på kaukasiske klipper.

Alt er kun et symbol malt Av Poeten, Profeten, Seeren; Bare de kronet og helliget er Som med sorg har vært kjent, Som gjør nasjoner edlere, friere.

I deres feberaktige jubel, I deres triumf og deres lengsel, I deres lidenskapelige pulsslag, I deres ord blant nasjonene, Brenner Prometheus-ilden.

Skal det da være forgjeves, All denne møye for menneskelig kultur? Gjennom skybankenes følge, mørke og slepende, Må de se over seg seile Over livets golde klipper gribben?

En slik skjebne som Dantes var det, Gjort avsindig av nederlag og eksil; Slik ble Milton og Cervantes, Naturens prester og Korybanter, Berørt og tynget av lidelse.

Men herlighetene så overlegne Som omkring deres minner klynger seg, Og, på alle deres skritt følger, Gjør deres formørkede liv strålende Med slike glimt av indre glans!

Alle melodiene hemmelighetsfulle, Gjennom det triste mørket sunget; Tanker i bydende holdning, Stemmer myke og dype og alvorlige, Ord som hvisket, sanger som hjemsøkte!

All sjelen i henrykt spenning, All den skjelvende, pulserende Livets strenger i ytterste spenning, Med oppfinnelsens iver, Med skapelsens henrykkelse!

Å, Prometheus! himmelstormende! I slike stunder av jubel Selv det svakeste hjerte, uten å vike, Kunne se gribben seile Rundt de skyfylte kaukasiske klipper!

Skjønt det ikke er alle gitt Styrke til slik sublim bestrebelse, Slik å bestige himmelens murer, Og å syre med ildfull surdeig Alle menneskers hjerter for evig;

Løfter likevel alle skalder, hvis hjerter uvisnede Ære og tro varselet, Høyt sine tente fakler, Skinnende gjennom de formørkede riker, Ettersom de bærer budskapet videre!

=17. Bronsealderen.= Etter sølvalderen kom bronsealderen,[14] mer voldsom av sinn og mer rede til våpenstrid, men likevel ikke helt ond.

=18. Jernalderen.= Sist kom den hardeste og verste tidsalderen – jernets. Forbrytelse brøt inn som en flom; bluferdighet, sannhet og ære flyktet. Jordens gaver ble bare brukt til skjendige formål. Bedrageri, vold, krig hjemme og ute florerte. Verden var våt av blodbad; og gudene forlot den én etter én, Astræa sist, gudinne for uskyld og renhet.

=19. Flommen.= Jupiter, som observerte tingenes tilstand, brant av vrede. Han kalte gudene til råd. De adlød kallet og reiste Melkeveien til Himmelens palass. Der fremla Jupiter for forsamlingen jordens forferdelige tilstand og kunngjorde sin hensikt å ødelegge dens innbyggere og frembringe en ny slekt, ulik den nåværende, som skulle være livet mer verdig og mer ærbødig mot gudene. Av frykt for at en brann kunne sette Himmelen selv i flammer, gikk han i gang med å drukne verden. Ikke tilfreds med sine egne vannmasser, kalte han sin bror Neptun til hjelp. Raskt ble menneskeslekten og dens eiendeler revet bort av syndfloden.

=20. = Parnassus alene, blant fjellene, raget over bølgene; og der fant Deukalion, sønn av Prometheus, og hans hustru Pyrrha, datter av Epimetheus, tilflukt – han en rettferdig mann og hun en trofast tilbeder av gudene. Jupiter, som husket dette parets harmløse liv og fromme oppførsel, lot vannene trekke seg tilbake – havet vendte tilbake til sine bredder, og elvene til sine løp. Så gikk Deukalion og Pyrrha inn i et tempel skjemmet av slam, nærmet seg det utente alteret og, idet de falt på kne, ba om veiledning og hjelp. Orakelet[15] svarte: «Dra bort fra tempelet med tildekket hode og oppløste gevanter, og kast bak dere deres mors ben.» De hørte ordene med forundring. Pyrrha brøt tausheten først: «Vi kan ikke adlyde; vi tør ikke vanhellige våre foreldres rester.» De søkte inn i skogene og overveiet orakelet i sine sinn. Til sist talte Deukalion: «Enten svikter forstanden meg, eller så er befalingen én vi kan adlyde uten ugudelighet.

Jorden er alles store forelder; steinene er hennes ben; disse kan vi kaste bak oss; dette, tror jeg, er hva orakelet mener. I det minste vil det ikke skade oss å forsøke.» De tildekket sine ansikter, løste opp gevantene og, idet de plukket opp steiner, kastet de dem bak seg. Steinene begynte å mykne og anta form. Gradvis antok de en grov likhet med menneskelig skikkelse. De som ble kastet av Deukalion ble menn; de av Pyrrha, kvinner. Det var en hardfør slekt som vokste opp, og vel skikket til arbeid.

=21. Halvguder og helter.= Som foregående jernalderen nevner Hesiod en Halvguders og helters tidsalder. Siden imidlertid disse halvguder og helter for manges vedkommende angivelig nedstammet direkte fra Deukalion, må deres epoke betraktes som etter flommen. Helten Hellen, sønn av Deukalion og Pyrrha, ble stamfar til hellenerne, eller grekerne. Eolerne og dorerne var ifølge legenden etterkommere av hans sønner Aiolos og Doros; fra hans sønn Xuthos avledet achaierne og jonerne sitt opphav.

En annen stor gruppe av det greske folket, den pelasgiske, bosatt på Peloponnes eller den sørlige del av halvøya, ble sagt å stamme fra en annen helteslekt, den av Pelasgos, sønn av Phoroneus fra Argos og sønnesønn av elveguden Inachos.

Halvgudene og heltene var av uforlignelig verdi og tapperhet. Deres eventyr utgjør emnet for mange av de påfølgende kapitlene. De Eldre Heltene i særdeleshet var utstyrt med gudelignende egenskaper som de viet til menneskehetens tjeneste gjennom ødeleggelsen av uhyrer, grunnleggelsen av byer eller innføringen av sivilisasjon. Slik var Perseus, Argos’ helt og hans etterkommer Hercules, som kom til å bli dyrket som grekernes nasjonalhelt. Slik var også Kadmos, Thebens grunnlegger, og Kekrops fra Athen, og en av hans etterfølgere, Theseus, en «annen Hercules». Hver by i Hellas hadde sin skytshelt, som den tildelte guddommelige æresbevisninger. De Yngre Heltene var høvdinger i krigene om Theben og Troja og i tallrike andre militære eller plyndringstokter.

FOTNOTER:

[2] Supplerende informasjon om mange av mytene kan finnes i de tilsvarende avsnitt av Kommentaren. For uttale av navn se Registeret, og Reglene forut for Registeret.

[3] Så langt det er mulig, brukes latinske betegnelser, eller latiniserte former av greske navn.

[4] Om Titanene, etc., Prellers Griech. Mythol. 1, 37.

[5] Om betydningen av Uranus, Kronos, Zevs, se Preller, 1, 37, 38, og Kommentaren, §§ 4, 24.

[6] Roscher, Ausf. Lex., Artikel Giganten [J. Ilberg].

[7] Navnet betyr sannsynligvis Sverdsvinger [for Lansen].

[8] Følgelig kunne skapelsen av disse menneskene ikke tilskrives Prometheus – med mindre de ble skapt av ham før Titanenes krig.

[9] Det er usikkerhet med hensyn til den mytiske tidsperioden for disse hendelsene. Rekkefølgen som her er gitt synes meg velbegrunnet. Hes. Verker og Dager, 180; Theog. 790-910.

[10] §§ 156, 161, 191 og Kommentaren, § 10.

[11] Fra Herakles, et drama av George Cabot Lodge.

[12] Byron, Prometheus.

[13] Longfellow, Prometheus, eller Poetens forutanelser.

[14] Hesiod, Verker og Dager, 220.

[15] Orakelet til Themis.

[12] Fra Byrons Prometheus. Se også hans oversettelse av Æskhylos' Prometheus Vinctus, og hans Ode til Napoleon Buonaparte.

[13] Prometheus, eller The Poet's Forethought. Se Kommentar.

[14] Sammenlign Byrons politiske satire, The Age of Bronze.

[15] Orakler, se §§ 24, 30, og Kommentar.

=22. Olympos.= Himmelens greske guder bodde på toppen av et ideelt fjell kalt Olympos.[17] En skyport, voktet av gudinnene Årstidene, åpnet seg for å slippe himmelvesenene ned til jorden og ta imot dem når de vendte tilbake. Gudene hadde hver sine boliger, men alle, når de ble tilkalt, begav seg til Jupiters palass – selv de guddommene som vanligvis holdt til på jorden, i vannet eller i underverdenen. I den store salen til den olympiske kongen spiste gudene hver dag ambrosia og nektar. Her samtalt de om himmelens og jordens anliggender, og mens de drakk nektaren som Hebe skjenket, spilte Apollon melodi på sin lyre, og musene sang i vekselsang. Når solen gikk ned, trakk gudene seg tilbake til sine respektive boliger for natten.

Følgende linjer fra Odysseen uttrykker den forestillingen Homer hadde om Olympos:

Slik talte og steg, den blåøyde gudinne Minerva, Opp til Olympos, gudenes evige hjem, Som aldri forstyrres av stormer, ei gjennomvætes av regn, Ei invaderes av sne; men uforstyrret Og skyfritt skinner i det reneste dagslys. Der fryder de himmelske beboere seg Evig.[18]

=23. De store gudene.= Himmelens guder var følgende:[19]

Jupiter (Zevs).[20] Hans datter Minerva (Athene), som sprang fullt utrustet og fullt bevæpnet ut av hans hode. Hans søster og hustru Juno (Hera). Hans barn med Juno: Mars (Ares), Vulcan (Hefaistos) og Hebe. Hans barn med Latona: Apollon, eller Foibos, og Diana (Artemis). Hans datter med Dione: Venus (Afrodite).[21] Hans sønn med Maia: Mercur (Hermes). Hans søster Vesta (Hestia), den eldstefødte av Kronos og Rhea.

Av disse var alle guddommer av høyeste rang unntatt Hebe, som må regnes blant de mindre gudene. Med de resterende ti «store gudene» regnes noen ganger også Jupiters andre søster Ceres (Demeter), egentlig en jordgudinne, og Neptun (Poseidon), havets hersker.

=24. = Det greske navnet betyr himmelens strålende lys. Jupiter var universets øverste hersker, den viseste og mest herlige av guddommene. I Iliaden forteller han de andre gudene at deres samlede styrke ikke ville kunne rokke ham; tvert imot kunne han trekke dem og jorden og havene til seg, og henge alt opp i Olympos ved en gullkjede. På sin trone i den høye, klare himmel var Jupiter samleren av skyer og snø, utdeleren av milde regn og vinder, styreren av lys og varme og årstidene, tordneren, svingeren av tordenkilen. Kroppslig styrke og ære var ham kjært. Han ble tilbedt med forskjellige riter i ulike land, og overalt var de høyeste trærne og de mektigste fjelltoppene helliget ham. Han krevde av sine tilbedere renhet i omgivelser, i person og i hjerte. Rettferdighet var hans; det var hans sak å gjengjelde brudd på plikter i hjemmet, i sosiale relasjoner og i staten.

Profeti var hans; og hans vilje ble åpenbart i orakelet i Dodona, hvor det ble gitt svar til dem som spurte om fremtiden. Dette orakelskrinet var det eldste i Hellas. Ifølge en beretning fløy to svarte duer fra Theben i Egypt. Den ene fløy til Dodona i Epirus og slo seg ned i en eikelund og kunngjorde for innbyggerne i distriktet at de der skulle etablere et orakel for Jupiter. Den andre duen fløy til Jupiter Ammons tempel i den libyske oasen og overbrakte en lignende befaling. Ifølge en annen beretning var dette ikke duer, men prestinner som, bortført fra Theben av fønikerne, satte opp orakler i Oasen og Dodona. Orakelsvarene ble gitt av raslingen av eiketrærne i vinden. Lydene ble tolket av prester.

At Jupiter selv, skjønt gift med gudinnen Juno, skulle tillegges en rekke andre kjærlighetsaffærer, ikke bare med gudinner, men med dødelige, forklares delvis av at den høyeste guddommen hos grekerne har blitt tillagt egenskaper og eventyr fra en rekke lokale og utenlandske guddommer som etter hvert ble identifisert med ham. Det er derfor ikke klokt å anta at Jupiters eller andre guders kjærlighetsaffærer alltid symboliserer kombinasjoner av naturlige eller fysiske krefter som har gjentatt seg i stadig skiftende forkledninger. Det er viktig å forstå at den mer ideelle olympiske religionen tok opp i seg trekk fra laverestående religioner, og at Jupiter, når han fremstilles som om han tilegner seg trekk fra andre guder, noen ganger også ble tilskrevet deres hustruer.

I tillegg til de allerede nevnte barna av Jupiter bør her, som av særlig betydning, nevnes Bacchus (Dionysos), vinens gud, en jordguddom – Proserpina, Pluto hustru og underverdenens dronning – og Herkules, den største av heltene.

=25. = Grekerne forestilte seg som regel krigens Jupiter ridende i sin tordenvogn, slyngende tordenkilen eller piskende sine fiender med en svepe av lyn. Han bar et brystplate eller et stormskjold som lignet huden på en grå geit (aigis), fryktelig å se på, og laget av ildguden. Hans spesielle budbringer var ørnen. Det var imidlertid først med generasjonenes gang at grekerne kom til å fremstille sin største gud gjennom menneskehenders verk. Statuen av den olympiske Jupiter ved Fidias ble ansett som det høyeste resultat av gresk billedhoggerkunst. Den var av kolossale dimensjoner og, som andre statuer fra perioden, «kryselefantinsk», det vil si sammensatt av elfenben og gull. For delene som representerte kjøtt var av elfenben lagt på en treramme, mens draperiet og ornamentene var av gull. Figurens høyde var førti fot, pidestallens tolv. Guden ble fremstilt sittende på sin trone.

Hans panne var kronet med en krans av oliven; han holdt i sin høyre hånd et septer og i den venstre en statue av Seier. Tronen var av sedertre, utsmykket med gull og edelstener.

Ideen kunstneren søkte å legemliggjøre var den høyeste guddommen i den hellenske rase, tronende som en erobrer, i fullkommen majestet og ro, og styrende den underdanige verden med et nikk. Fidias forteller oss at ideen ble fremkalt av Homers linjer i Iliadens første bok:

Jove talte og nikket med sine skyggefulle bryn; Bølget på det udødelige hode de ambrosiske lokker, – Og hele Olympos skalv ved hans nikk.[23]

Dessverre er vår kunnskap om denne berømte statuen begrenset til litterære beskrivelser og kopier på mynter. Andre fremstillinger av Jove er hentet fra greske bronsestatuetter eller veggmaleriene i Herculaneum og Pompeii.

=26. Juno[24] (Hera)=, Jupiters søster og hustru. Ifølge noen betyr navnet Hera himmelens glans, ifølge andre Herskerinnen. Noen mener det betegner henne som jordgudinne; andre som luftgudinne; atter andre, av grunner som på ingen måte er avgjørende, sier det betyr Beskytterinnen, og henviser til Juno i hennes opprinnelige funksjon som månegudinne, den utvalgte vokter av kvinner, deres hjelp i nødens stunder. Junos forening med Jupiter var prototypen på jordiske ekteskap. Hun er selve typen på matronale dyder og verdighet.

Hun var datter av Kronos og Rhea, men ble oppdratt av Okeanos og Tethys i deres bolig langt mot vest bortenfor havet. Uten foreldrenes viten ble hun viet til Jupiter i denne gudenes hage der ambrosiske floder rant, og der Jorden til ære for vielsen lot et livets tre vokse frem, tungt av epler gylne som solnedgangen. Juno var den mest verdige av gudinnene, den mest dronningaktige; okseøyd, sier Homer; sier Hesiod, gullskoet og gulltronet. Herlig uten like var hennes nærvær, når hun hadde spent hestene for og kjørt frem den gullhjulede vognen som Hebe gjorde klar, og som Årstidene satte til side. Fryktelig kunne også hennes vrede være. For hun var av en sjalu natur, som ikke ble gunstig påvirket av hennes ektefelles sidesprang; og hun var dessuten tilbøyelig til krangel, egensindig, hevngjerrig, stolt, også ved anledninger falsk. En gang sammensvor hun seg faktisk med Minerva og Neptun for å binde selveste skyenes sammenpresser.

Mer enn én gang provoserte hun ham til å slå; og én gang til noe verre enn slag – for hennes herre og mester svingte henne opp i skyene, festet hennes håndledd i gylne håndjern og hengte ambolter på føttene hennes.

Byene som den oksøyske gudinnen favoriserte, var Argos, Sparta og Mykene. For henne var påfuglen og kua kjære, og mang en lund og beitemark frydet hennes hellige flokker.

=27. Minerva= (=Athene= eller =Athena=), jomfrugudinnen. Hun sprang ut av Joves hjerne, strålende i full krigsrustning, svingende et spyd og med sitt krigsrop vekkende himmelens og jordens ekko. [25] Hun er stormenes og den jagende tordenkiles gudinne, og kalles derfor Pallas. Hun er tordenskyens gudinne, symbolisert ved hennes frynsede brystplate av geiteskinn, aigis, hvor det er festet et hode av Medusa, gorgonen som forvandler alle som ser den til stein. Hun er også krigens gudinne, som fryder seg over krigsmusikk og beskytter krigshesten og krigsskipet. På den annen side er hun av et mildt, vakkert og tankefullt vesen. Hennes latinske navn Minerva er beslektet med de sanskritiske, greske og latinske ordene for sinn. Hun er evig jomfru, visdommens, dyktighetens, kontemplasjonens, spinningens og vevingens, hagebrukets og jordbrukets gudinne.

Hun er byenes beskytterinne, og ble særlig tilbedt i sitt eget Athen, i Argos, i Sparta og i Troja. Til henne ble det ofret okser og kuer. Oljetreet, som hun skapte, var hellig for henne, så vel som uglen, hanen, slangen og kråken.

=28. Mars (Ares)=,[26] krigsguden, sønn av Jupiter og Juno. Betydningen av navnet Ares er usikker; de mest sannsynlige betydningene er Banemannen, Hevneren, Forbannelsen. Den romerske krigsguden Mars er den strålende og brennende. Homer, i Iliaden, fremstiller Ares som den heroiske tidsalders umettelige kriger, som, drevet av raseri og voldslyst, jubler i kampens støy, fråtser i blodbadets redsel. Strid og slakt er hans eksistensbetingelse. Der kampen er hardest, der styrter han inn uten nøling, uten spørsmål om hvilken side som har rett. I kamparray er han strålende – på hodet den glimrende hjelm og flagrende fjær, på armen lærskjoldet, i hånden det fryktelige bronsespydet. Velbygd, statelig, rask, utrettelig, veldig, kjempestor, er han likevel visdommens fiende, de dødeliges svøpe. Vanligvis kjemper han til fots, noen ganger fra en stridsvogn trukket av fire hester – avkom av Nordenvinden og en Furie.

I slaget ledsager hans sønner ham – Skrekk, Skjelving, Panikk og Frykt – også hans søster Eris, eller Tvedrakt (Stridens mor), hans datter Enyo, byenes ødeleggerinne, og et følge av blodtørstige demoner. Ettersom Mars representerer krigens tilfeldigheter, er han naturligvis ikke alltid seierrik. [27] Hans elskede og elskerinne er selveste skjønnhetens gudinne. I hennes armer finner krigeren ro. Deres datter Harmonia er ane til det urolige dynastiet i Theben. Mars' favorittland var ifølge Homer det barske, nordlige Trakia. Hans emblemer er spydet og den brennende fakkel; hans utvalgte dyr er slagmarkens hjemsøkere – gribben og hunden.

=29. Vulcan (Hefaistos)=, sønn av Jupiter og Juno, var ildens gud, særlig den jordiske ild – vulkansk utbrudd, skadebrann, gløden fra smien eller arnen. Men ettersom jordens ild stammer fra himmelens, henviste navnet Hefaistos (brennende, skinnende, flammende) kanskje opprinnelig til lynets fantastiske glans. Vulcan var gudenes smed, den dyktigste metallkunstner blant dem. Hans smie i Olympos var utstyrt ikke bare med ambolter og alle andre redskaper for faget, men også med automatiske tjenestepiker av sølv og gull, formet av Vulcan selv. Poeter senere enn Homer tillegger Vulcan verksteder under forskjellige vulkanske øyer. Fra krateret på Etna strømmet røyken og flammene fra hans smie. Han bygde gudenes boliger; han laget Joves septer, olympiernes skjold og spyd, Apollons og Dianas piler, Herkules' brystplate, Akilles' skjold.

Han var lam i gangen – kanskje et billedlig hint om ildens flakkende, ujevne natur. Ifølge hans egen fortelling[28] ble han født halt, og hans mor, forgremmet over hans vanskapning, kastet ham fra Himmelen ut av gudenes åsyn. Likevel sier han[29] at da han en gang forsøkte å redde sin mor fra Jupiters vrede, ble han grepet i foten og slengt av sønnen til Kronos fra den himmelske terskel: «Hele dagen fløy jeg; og ved solnedgang falt jeg på Lemnos, og lite liv var igjen i meg.» Hadde han ikke vært lam før, hadde han god grunn til å halte etter begge disse katastrofene. Han deltok i skapelsen av menneskeslekten og i den spesielle skapelsen av Pandora. Han medvirket også ved Minervas fødsel, for å lette den kløvde han Jupiters hode med en øks.

Hans hustru er ifølge Iliaden og Hesiods Theogonien Aglaia, den yngste av gratiene; men i Odysseen er det Venus. Han er en strålende, godmodig gud, elsket og æret blant mennesker som grunnlegger av kloke skikker og håndverkeres beskytter; ved anledning også som en lege- og profetigud. Han synes å ha vært, når han ønsket, årsak til «uutslokkelig latter» for gudene, men han var på ingen måte noen narr. Den berømte guden med de sterke armene kunne være slu, ja til og med hevngjerrig, når nøden krevde det.

=30. Apollon=, eller Foibos Apollon, sønn av Jupiter og Latona, var fremfor alt solguden. Hans navn Foibos betegner sollysets strålende natur; hans navn Apollon kanskje den grusomme og ødeleggende heten ved middagstid. Kort etter hans fødsel ville Jupiter ha sendt ham til Delfi for å innprente rettskaffenhet og rettferdighet blant grekerne; men den gylne guden Apollon valgte først å tilbringe et år i hyperboreernes land, der det i seks sammenhengende måneder av året er solskinn og vår, mildt klima, overflod av urter og blomster og selve livets ekstase. I denne ventetiden sang delfierne paeaner – lovsanger – og danset i kor rundt trefoten (eller den trebente stolen), der Apollons forventningsfulle prestinne hadde inntatt sin plass. Endelig, da året var varmt, kom guden i sin vogn trukket av svaner – bebudet av sanger om vårtid, nattergaler og svaler og sirisser.

Da flommet den krystallklare kilden Castalia og elven Kefissos over sine bredder, og menneskeheten brakte takknemlige offergaver til guden. Men hans ankomst var ikke helt fredelig. En enorm slange, Pyton, hadde krøpet frem av slammet som jorden var dekket av etter syndfloden; og i hulene på fjellet Parnassos lurte denne skrekk for folket. Ham møtte Apollon og drepte etter fryktelig kamp, med piler, våpen som sølvbuens gud tidligere bare hadde brukt mot svake dyr – harer, villgeiter og slikt vilt. Til minne om denne lysende erobringen innstiftet han de pythiske lekene, der vinneren i styrkeprøver, hurtighet eller i vognkappkjøring skulle krones med en krans av bøkeblader. Apollon brakte ikke bare den varme våren og sommeren, men også avlingens velsignelser. Han avverget sommerens og høstens farer og sykdommer; og han helbredet de syke. Han var musikkens og poesiens beskytter.

Gjennom sitt orakel i Delfi, på Parnassos' skråninger i Fokis, lot den pythiske guden fremtiden bli kjent for dem som rådspurte ham. Han var en grunnlegger av byer, en fremmer av kolonisering, en giver av gode lover, idealet for den vakre og mandige ungdom – en ren og rettferdig gud, som krevde rene hender og rene hjerter av dem som tilba ham. Men skjønt en gud for liv og fred, skydde ikke langskytteren krigens våpen. Når overmot skulle straffes, eller urett rettes, kunne han spenne sin bue og drepe med hodet sine sollyspiler. Slik han i sin ungdoms dager drepte Pyton, slik drepte han også den oppsetsige Tityos, og slik Niobes barn.

Mens Foibos Apollon er solens olympiske guddom, fylt av lys og helbredelse, åndelig, skapende og profetisk, må han ikke forveksles med en gud fra det eldre dynasti, Helios (avkom av Hyperion, lysets titanguddom), som representerte solen i dens daglige og årlige løp, i dens fysiske snarere enn åndelige åpenbaring. Apollons bue var omvundet med laurbær til minne om Dafne, som han elsket. [30]

=31. Shelleys hymne til Apollon.=

De søvnløse timene som våker over meg mens jeg ligger, Gjemt bak tepper med innvevde stjernemønstre, Fra himmelens brede måneskinn, Vifter de travle drømmene fra mine dimme øyne, – Vekker meg når deres mor, den grå Daggry, Forteller dem at drømmene og månen er forsvunnet.

Så står jeg opp, og stigende oppover himmelens blå kuppel, Går jeg over fjellene og bølgene, Etterlater min kappe på havets skum; Mine fottrinn broler skyene med ild; hulene Fylles med mitt lyse nærvær, og luften Overlater den grønne jorden bar til mine omfavnelser.

Solstrålene er mine piler, med hvilke jeg dreper Bedraget, som elsker natten og frykter dagen; Alle mennesker som gjør eller endog tenker ille, Flyr meg, og fra min stråles glans Får gode sinn og åpne handlinger ny styrke, Inntil de svekkes under nattens herredømme.

Jeg mater skyene, regnbuene og blomstene Med deres eteriske farger; månens kule Og de rene stjernene i deres evige boliger Er ombeltet med min kraft som med en kappe; Hvilke lamper på jord eller i himmel som måtte skinne, Er deler av én kraft, som tilhører meg.

Jeg står ved middag på himmelens topp, Deretter går jeg med motvillige skritt ned I Atlanterhavets aftenskyer; For sorg over at jeg drar bort, gråter de og rynker pannen: Hvilket blikk er mer herlig enn smilet Med hvilket jeg trøster dem fra den vestlige øy?

Jeg er øyet med hvilket universet Betrakter seg selv og kjenner seg selv guddommelig; All harmoni av instrument eller vers, All profeti, all medisin er min, All kunstens eller naturens lys; – til min sang, Hører seier og pris med rette.

=32. Diana (Artemis)=, Apollons tvillingsøster, ble født på fjellet Kynthos på øya Delos. Latona, den fremtidige moren til Diana og Apollon, flyktet fra Junos vrede og hadde bedt, den ene etter den andre, øyene i Egeerhavet om å gi henne et hvilested; men de fryktet for mye den mektige himmeldronningen. Bare Delos samtykket i å bli fødestedet for de fremtidige guddommene. Denne øya var da flytende og ustø; men ved Latonas ankomst festet Jupiter den med diamantlenker til havets bunn, slik at den kunne være et sikkert hvilested for hans elskede. Latonas datter er, som hennes navn Artemis indikerer, en jomfrugudinne, idealet for blyghet, ynde og jomfruelig kraft. Hun er forbundet med sin bror, bueskytingens fyrste, i nesten alle hans eventyr, og i egenskaper er hun hans kvinnelige motstykke. Som han identifiseres med sollys, slik er hun, hans fagerlokkede søster, med månens kyske glans.

Dens smale bue er hennes bue; dens stråler er hennes piler med hvilke hun sender kvinner en rask og smertefri død. I sin egenskap av månegudinne identifiseres hun ofte med Selene, datter av Hyperion, akkurat som Apollon med Helios. Foraktende kjærlighetens svakhet påla Diana sine nymfer evig jomfrudomsløfte, som hun var snar og streng til å straffe ethvert brudd på. Yndefull i form og fri i bevegelse, utstyrt for jakten og omgitt av en flokk skjønne ledsagerinner, pleide den hurtig-ilende gudinnen å fare over åser, daler, skoger og sletter. Hun var imidlertid ikke bare jegerinne, men også vokter av ville dyr – dessuten herskerinne over hester og kyr og andre husdyr. Hun regjerte sump og fjell; hennes glimrende piler rammet hav så vel som land. Kilder og skogsbekker favoriserte hun, for i dem pleide hun og hennes ledsagerinner å bade. Hun velsignet engene og dyrkbare marker med grøde, og fikk dem en del av takk.

Når hun var trett av jakten, vendte hun seg til musikk og dans; for lyre og fløyte og sang var henne kjære. Muser, gratier, nymfer og de fagre gudinnene selv trengte seg rundt den korførende dronningens riter. Men vanligvis var et skogskapell eller et rustikt alter tilstrekkelig for hennes tilbedelse. Der la jegeren sin offergave – gevir, skinn eller spiselige deler av hjorten som den gullpilske Artemis selv hadde unnt ham. Den hellige jomfruen var imidlertid, skjønt naturlig yndefull, mild og en leger av onder, som sin bror snar til å gjengjelde skade mot hennes hellige flokker eller fornærmelse mot henne selv. Til denne strenge natur bar Agamemnon, Orion og Niobe beklagelig vitnesbyrd. De fant at den «fagerkronede dronning av den ekkoende jakt», skjønt munter og yndefull, på ingen måte var en lettsindig person.

Diana var herskerinne over dyrenes verden, ungdommens beskytterinne, all måteholds beskytter, vokter av borgerlig rett. Sypresstreet var hellig for henne; og hennes favoritter var bjørnen, villsvinet, hunden, geiten, og særlig hinden.

=33. Jonsons hymne til Cynthia (Diana).=

Dronning og Jegerinne, kysk og fager, Nå er solen lagt til søvn, Sittende i din sølvstol Bevar din vante majestet: Hesperus ber om ditt lys, Gudinne overmåte klar.

Jord, la ikke din misunnelige skygge Våge å legge seg imellom; Cynthias skinnende kule ble skapt For å klarne himmelen når dagen lukket seg: Velsign oss da med ønsket syn, Gudinne overmåte klar.

Legg bort din perlebue, Og ditt krystall-skinnende kogger; Gi til den flyvende hjort Rom til å puste, om aldri så kort: Du som gjør en dag av natten, Gudinne overmåte klar.[31]

=34. [33] Båret av vestavinden og båret på bølgen vant hun først øya Kythera; derfra, som en drøm, drog hun til Kypros, hvor hennes skjønnhets ynde og blomstring erobret ethvert hjerte. Overalt, ved berøringen av hennes føtter, blomstret gresset opp i blomster. Timene og gratiene omga henne, flettet duftende kranser og vevde kapper for henne som reflekterte fargetonene og åndet duften av krokus og hyasint, fiol, rose, lilje og narsiss. Til hennes innflytelse tilskrives fruktbarheten i dyre- og planteskaperverket. Hun er hagenes og blomstenes gudinne, rosen, myrten og lindens. Hedene og de slumrende dalene, behagelige med vår og vårbris, er hennes. I hennes broderte belte ligger "kjærlighet og begjær, og elskovssamtale som stjeler vettet selv fra de vise." For hun er herskerinne over kvinnelig sjarm og skjønnhet, den gyldne, søtt smilende Afrodite, som rår over mennenes hjerter. Hun låner dødelige forførende form og fascinasjon.

For noen få er hennes gunst riktignok en velsignelse; men for mange er hennes gaver forræderske, ødeleggende for fred. Hennes mangfoldige innflytelse er eksemplifisert i historiene om Pygmalion og Adonis, Paris og Æneas, Helena, Ariadne, Psyke, Procris, Pasifaë og Faidra. Hennes makt strakte seg over hav så vel som land, og hennes templer reiste seg fra mang en kyst. På vannet var svane og delfin elsket av henne; i luften spurven og duen. Hun var vanligvis ledsaget av sin bevingede sønn Cupido, om hvilken mye er å fortelle. Særlig kjære for henne var Kypros, Knidos, Pafos, Kythera, Abydos, fjellet Eryx og byen Korint.

=35. «Venus fra Milo».= Av kunstneriske fremstillinger av Afrodite er de mest berømte statuene kalt Venus fra Melos og Venus Medici.[34] En sammenligning av de to fremstillingene foretas i det følgende diktet.[35] Tilbederen apostroferer Venus fra Melos, den «indre skjønnhet av verden», hvis rolige smil han finner skjønnere enn «Den mediciske's slue og servile ynde»:

Fra vår lave verden har ingen guder tatt vinge; Selv nå på våre høyder vandrer de to:[36] Den mediciske's slue og servile ynde, Og din åsyns udødelige skjønnhet. Den ene er ånden i all kortvarig kjærlighet Og ytre, jordisk yndighet: Den skjelvende rosenrøde morgen er hennes munns smil, Himmelen, hennes leende asurblå øyne over; Og, ventende på kjærtegn. Ligger de bløte åsskråningene nakne, mens Hennes gysende stemme høres I sang av vind og bølge, og hver flyktig fugl. Ikke klart, aldri helt viser hun seg: Bare et raskt glimt av hennes opplyste smil Farer langs landskapet; Bare et mykt hint av sang, for å lokke En mann fra alt hans strev; Et forsvunnet glimt av vinkende arm, for å skjemme En morgenoppgave med lengsel, vill og fånyttes. Så om han over den brennhede sletten Søker henne, brenner hun med lidenskap Hans hjerte til feber, og han hører Vestavindens spottende latter når han snur, Skjelvende i tåken av havets mutte tårer.

Det er den Mediceiske: vel kjenner jeg De kunster hennes eldgamle subtilitet vil vise, – Stubbåkren hun forvandler til rødlig gull; Den tomme avstanden hun vil svøpe I purpurflor; den varme gløden hun har kysset Langs den kjølige tåken: Bedragende og bedratt kjærlighet som vokser til hat Og alltid dypere vemmelse, sent eller tidlig. Du, også, o skjønnere ånd, vandrer her På de løftede høyder: Hvorhenne den stille tanken i brystet Har beveget verdens indre skjønnhet; I stjernelyset som fyller aftenens kuppel; På endeløse vann som bølger mot vest: For dem som gjennom skjønnhetens slør har elsket Det beste av alle tings sjel. For liggende lys våken, lenge før daggry, Stirrende mot mørket, rommets tomhet Åpner seg umåtelig, og ditt ansikt Vakler og glimrer der og trekker seg tilbake.

Og mange dager, når all ens gjerning er fånyttes, Og livet strekker seg videre, en grå ørken, Med selv morgenens korte luftspeiling borte, Ingen kjølig ånde noe sted, ingen skygge nær Hvor en trett mann kunne legge seg ned og dø, Se! Du er der foran meg plutselig, Med skygge som om en sommersky dro forbi, Og dusj fra fontener som hvisker til gresset. Å, frels meg fra hastverket og støyen og heten Som skjemmer livets deilige musikk: Og fra den mindre Afrodite der – Selv nå står hun Nær når jeg snur meg, og O min sjel, hvor fager!

=36. Mercur (Hermes)=, født i en hule på fjellet Kyllene i Arkadia, var sønn av Jupiter og Maia (Atlas' datter). Ifølge formodning betyr navnet Hermes Hastemakeren. Mercur, snar som vinden, var tjener og herold for Jupiter og de andre gudene. På anklene hans (i plastisk kunst) og på hans lavkronede, bredbremmede petasus, eller hatt, satt vinger. Som himmelens budbærer bar han en stav (kaducé) av tre eller gull, omvundet med slanger og kronet med vinger, og i besittelse av magiske krefter over søvn, våkenhet og drømmer. Han var vakker og alltid i sin ungdoms fulle kraft. Til en stemme som var søttonet og kraftig, føyde han talekunstens overtalelsesevne. Men hans dyktighet var ikke begrenset til tale; han var også den første av oppfinnerne – til ham tilskrives lyren og fløyten. Han var også forløper for matematikere og astronomer. Hans smidighet og styrke gjorde ham lett til fyrste i atletiske idretter.

Hans listighet gjorde ham til en farlig fiende; han kunne fullt ut spille lureren og tyven, slik Apollon fikk erfare til sin forargelse, og Argus og mang en annen uheldig. Hans metoder var imidlertid ikke alltid tvilsomme; skjønt han var spillernes beskytter og tilfeldighetens gud, var han samtidig fremmer av lovlig industri og handel til lands og til vanns. »[37]

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=37. Vesta (Hestia)=, goddess of the hearth, public and private, was the first-born child of Cronus and Rhea and, accordingly, the elder sister of Jupiter, Juno, Neptune, Pluto, and Ceres. Vesta was an old maid by choice. Averse to Venus and all her ways, she scorned the flattering advances of both Neptune and Apollo, and resolved to remain single. Whereupon Jupiter gave her to sit in the middle of his palace, to receive in Olympus the choicest morsels of the feast, and, in the temples of the gods on earth, reverence as the oldest and worthiest of Olympian divinities. As goddess of the burning hearth, Vesta is the divinity of the home: of settled, in opposition to nomadic, habits of life. She was worshiped first of the gods at every feast. Before her shrine in city and state the holy flame was religiously cherished. From her altars those of the other gods obtained their fires.

No new colony, no new home, was duly consecrated till on its central hearth there glowed coals from her ancestral hearth. In her temple at Rome a sacred fire, tended by six virgin priestesses called Vestals, was kept religiously aflame. As the safety of the city was held to be connected with its conservation, any negligence, by which it might go out, was severely punished. Whenever the fire did die, it was rekindled from the rays of the sun.

=38.= Of the =Lesser Divinities of Heaven= the most worthy of mention are: 1. Cupid (Eros), small but mighty god of love, the son of Venus and her constant companion. He was often represented with eyes covered because of the blindness of his actions. With his bow and arrows, he shot the darts of desire into the bosoms of gods and men. Another deity named Anteros, reputed the brother of Eros, was sometimes represented as the avenger of slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of reciprocal affection. Venus was also attended at times by another brother of Eros, Himeros, or Longing, and by Hymen, a beautiful youth of divine descent, the personification of the wedding feast and leader of the nuptial chorus. Of Eros the poet Gosse writes:

Within a forest, as I strayed Far down a somber autumn glade, I found the god of love; His bow and arrows cast aside, His lovely arms extended wide, A depth of leaves above, Beneath o'erarching boughs he made A place for sleep in russet shade.

Hebe, daughter of Jupiter and Juno, goddess of youth and cupbearer to the gods. According to one story, she resigned that office on becoming the wife of Hercules. According to another, Hebe was dismissed from her position in consequence of a fall which she met with one day when in attendance on the gods. Her successor was Ganymede, a Trojan boy whom Jupiter, in the disguise of an eagle, seized and carried off from the midst of his playfellows on Mount Ida, bore up to Heaven, and installed in the vacant place. The Graces, daughters of Jove by Eurynome, daughter of Oceanus. They were goddesses presiding over the banquet, the dance, all social pleasures, and polite accomplishments. They were three in number,--Euphrosyne, Aglaia, and Thalia. Spenser describes the office of the Graces thus:

These three on men all gracious gifts bestow Which deck the body or adorn the mind, To make them lovely or well-favored show; As comely carriage, entertainment kind, Sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind, And all the complements of courtesy; They teach us how to each degree and kind We should ourselves demean, to low, to high, To friends, to foes; which skill men call civility. The Muses, daughters of Jupiter and Mnemosyne (Memory). They presided over song and prompted the memory. They are ordinarily cited as nine in number; and to each of them was assigned patronage in some department of literature, art, or science. Calliope was the muse of epic poetry, Clio of history, Euterpe of lyric poetry, Melpomene of tragedy, Terpsichore of choral dance and song, Erato of love poetry, Polyhymnia of sacred poetry, Urania of astronomy, Thalia of comedy. Themis, one of the Titans, a daughter of Uranus.

She sat, as goddess of justice, beside Jupiter on his throne. She was beloved of the father of gods and men, and bore him the Hours, goddesses who regulated the seasons, and the Fates.

The Fates, three in number,--Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. [39] According to Hesiod, they were daughters of Night. Nemesis, daughter of Night. She represented the righteous anger and vengeance of the gods, particularly toward the proud, the insolent, and breakers of the law. Æsculapius, son of Apollo. By his skill in medicine he restored the dead to life. Being killed by the lightning of Jove, he was translated to the ranks of Heaven. His function was the art of healing. The Winds,--Boreas, or Aquilo, the north wind; Zephyrus, or Favonius, the west; Notus, or Auster, the south; and Eurus, the east. The first two, chiefly, have been celebrated by the poets, the former as the type of rudeness, the latter of gentleness. It is said that Boreas loved the nymph Orithyia and tried to play the lover's part, but met with poor success; for it was hard for him to breathe gently, and sighing was out of the question.

Weary at last of fruitless endeavors, he acted out his true character, seized the maiden and bore her off. Their children were Zetes and Calaïs, winged warriors, who accompanied the Argonautic expedition and did good service in an encounter with those monstrous birds, the Harpies. Zephyrus was the lover of Flora (Chloris).

Here, too, may be mentioned Æolus, the king of the winds, although he is not a lesser divinity of Heaven. His palace was on the precipitous isle of Æolia, where, with his six sons and six daughters, he kept eternal carouse. The winds, which he confined in a cavern, he let loose as he saw fit or as he was bidden by superior deities. Helios, Selene, and Eos, children of the Titan Hyperion. Helios and Selene were the more ancient Greek divinities of Sun and Moon respectively. Helios, the charioteer of the sun, is, as has been already said, frequently identified with his successor, Apollo. The attributes and adventures of Selene were merged in those of the more modern Diana. Eos, or, in Latin nomenclature, Aurora, the rosy-fingered goddess of the Morn, was mother of the stars and of the morning and evening breezes. Saffron-robed she rises from the streams of Ocean, to bring light to gods and men.

Hesper, the evening-star, was sometimes identified with Phosphor. He was king of the Western Land, and, say some, father of the Hesperides, who guarded the golden apples of the sunset.

The Spirit in Milton's Comus tells of... the gardens fair Of Hesperus, and his daughters three That sing about the golden tree. Along the crispèd shades and bowers Revels the spruce and jocund Spring; The Graces and the rosy-bosomed Hours Thither all their bounties bring. There eternal Summer dwells, And west winds with musky wing About the cedarn alleys fling Nard and cassia's balmy smells. Iris there with humid bow Waters the odorous banks, that blow Flowers of more mingled hue Than her purfled scarf can shew.

And Tennyson taking the lines as a text has written the melodious and mystic song of the Hesperides, beginning--

The golden apple, the golden apple, the hallowed fruit, Guard it well, guard it warily, Singing airily, Standing about the charmèd root. Round about all is mute, As the snowfield on the mountain-peaks, As the sandfield at the mountain-foot. Crocodiles in briny creeks Sleep and stir not: all is mute. If ye sing not, if ye make false measure, We shall lose eternal pleasure, Worth eternal want of rest. Laugh not loudly: watch the treasure Of the wisdom of the West.

Readers of this poem will notice that Tennyson follows the tradition by which a sleepless dragon is introduced among the guardians of the Hesperian fruit. Still other versions substitute for Hesperus, the Titan Atlas. 12. Various Other Personifications. The constellation Orion, whose story will be narrated; Victoria (Nike), the goddess of Victory; Discors (Eris), the goddess of Strife; and Iris, goddess of the rainbow, who is represented frequently as a messenger of the gods.

FOOTNOTES:

[16] Consult, in general, corresponding sections of the Commentary.

[17] Symbolized on earth by Mount Olympus in Thessaly.

[18] Cowper's translation.

[19] See Commentary, § 23, for Gladstone's latest utterance on the number of the Olympians.

[20] The names included in parentheses represent the Greek, the others being Roman equivalents, Latin names, or names common to both Greek and Roman usage.

[21] See Commentary, § 34.

[22] On the Latin name, see Commentary, § 24.

[23] Iliad, I, 622-625, Earl of Derby's translation. See also the passage in Chapman's translation.

[24] On the name Juno, see Commentary.

[25] For the names Athene and Minerva, see Commentary.

[26] See Commentary.

[27] Iliad, 5, 590. See also 21, 395.

[28] Iliad, 18, 395.

[29] Iliad, 1, 390.

[30] On the birth of Apollo, his adventures, names, festivals, oracles, and his place in literature and art, see Commentary. For other particulars, see sections on Myths of Apollo.

[31] From Cynthia's Revels.

[32] Iliad, 5, 370, etc.

[33] A popular etymology.

[34] For Venus in poetry and art, see Commentary.

[35] From the Venus of Milo, by E. R. Sill, formerly professor of English Literature in the University of California.

[36] The references are to the Berkeley Hills, the Bay of San Francisco, and the glimpses of the Pacific.

[37] Lang, Odyssey, 24, 1; adapted.

[38] Eros, by Edmund Gosse. For verses on the blindness of Cupid, see Lyly's Cupid and Campaspe in Commentary.

[39] For description of their spinning, see translation of Catullus, LXIV, in § 191.

[40] See Commentary.

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=39. Conception of the World.= The Greek poets believed the earth to be flat and circular. In their opinion their own country occupied the middle of it, and the central point was either Mount Olympus, the abode of the gods, or Delphi, famous for its oracle. The circular disk of the earth was crossed from west to east and divided into two equal parts by the Sea, as they called the Mediterranean and its continuation the Euxine, the only seas with which they were acquainted. Around the earth flowed River Ocean, from south to north on the western side, in a contrary direction on the eastern. It flowed in a steady, equable current, unvexed by storm or tempest. The sea and all the rivers on earth received their waters from it.

The northern portion of the earth was inhabited by the Hyperboreans, dwelling in bliss and everlasting spring beyond the mountains whose caverns sent forth the piercing blasts of the north wind. Their country was inaccessible by land or sea. They lived exempt from disease or old age, from toils and warfare. "I come" sings one of them,[42]--

I come from a land in the sun-bright deep, Where golden gardens glow, Where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep, Their conch-shells never blow.

On the south side of the earth, close to the stream of Ocean, dwelt the Æthiopians, whom the gods held in such favor that they left at times the Olympian abodes to partake of the Æthiopian sacrifices and banquets. On the western margin of the earth, by the stream of Ocean, lay the Elysian Plain, where certain mortals enjoyed an immortality of bliss.

The Dawn, the Sun, and the Moon were supposed to rise out of Ocean on the eastern side and to drive through the air, giving light to gods and men. The stars, also, except those forming the Wain or Bear and others near them, rose out of and sank into the stream of Ocean. There the sun-god embarked in a winged boat, which conveyed him by the northern part of the earth back to his place of rising in the east.

=40. Ceres (Demeter)=, the goddess of sowing and reaping, of harvest festivals, and of agriculture in general, was sister of Jupiter and daughter of Cronus and Rhea. She is connected through her daughter Proserpine, queen of Hades, with the holy ceremonies and rites of death and of the lower world. Of the institutions founded or favored by her the most important were the mysteries celebrated at Eleusis, concerning which we know that, in the presence of individuals initiated in the secret ritual and perhaps with their coöperation, scenes were enacted which represented the alternation of death and life in nature and, apparently, forecast the resurrection and immortality of man. Sacred to Ceres and to Proserpine were golden sheaves of corn and soporific poppies; while, among animals, cows, sheep, and pigs were acceptable to them.

=41. Gæa (Ge)=, the Mother Earth, wife of Uranus, belongs to the older order of gods; so also, another goddess of the earth, Rhea, the wife of Cronus and mother of Jupiter. In Phrygia, Rhea became identified with Cybele, whose worship, as mother of the gods, was at a later period introduced into Rome. The Greek mother, Rhea, was attended by the Curetes; the Phrygian mother by the Corybantes, who celebrated her orgies with enthusiastic din of trumpets, drums, and cymbals. Cybele presided over mountain fastnesses and fortified places.

=42. Bacchus (Dionysus)=, the god of wine, was the son of Jupiter and Semele, daughter of Cadmus of Thebes. He was especially the god of animal life and vegetation. He represented not only the intoxicating power of wine but its social and beneficent influences, and was looked on as a promoter of civilization, a lawgiver, and a lover of peace. His forehead was crowned with vine leaves or ivy. He rode on the tiger, the panther, or the lynx, or was drawn by them in a car. His worshipers were Bacchanals, or Bacchantes. He was attended by Satyrs and Sileni and by women called Mænads, who, as they danced and sang, waved in the air the thyrsus, a staff entwined with ivy and surmounted by a pine cone. Ordinarily, as in the following verses by Dryden, the convivial qualities of the god overshadow all the rest:

The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung, Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young. The jolly god in triumph comes; Sound the trumpets, beat the drums; Flushed with a purple grace He shows his honest face: Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes. Bacchus, ever fair and young, Drinking joys did first ordain; Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure; Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain.[43]

=43. Pan, son of Mercury and a wood-nymph or Dryad. He was the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shepherds. He dwelt in caves, wandered on the mountains and in valleys, amused himself with the chase, led the dances of the Dryads, and made love to them. But his suit was frequently of no avail, for though good-natured he was not prepossessing; his hoofs and horns did not enhance his comeliness. He was fond of music and was himself inventor of the syrinx, or shepherd's pipe, which he played in a masterly manner. Like other gods who dwelt in forests, he was dreaded by those whose occupations caused them to pass through the woods by night; for gloom and loneliness oppress and appall the mind. Hence sudden unreasonable fright was ascribed to Pan and called a Panic terror. _ Pan's partners in the dance, the Dryads, were but one of several classes of nymphs.

There were, beside them, the Oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottoes; and the Water-Nymphs, who are mentioned in later sections. The Satyrs, deities of the woods and fields. In early art they appear as bearded creatures with snub noses, goats' ears, and horses' tails. Later they resemble youths, sometimes with sprouting horns. The goat-legged satyr is found in Roman poetry.

FOOTNOTES:

[41] For references to poetry and works of art, see corresponding sections in Commentary.

[42] According to Thomas Moore's Song of a Hyperborean.

[43] From Alexander's Feast.

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=44. The Underworld= was the region of darkness inhabited by the spirits of the dead and governed by Pluto (Hades) and Proserpina, his queen. "[46] From that land one goes beside the stream till he reaches the dank house of Hades. The realm of darkness is bounded by awful rivers: the Styx, sacred even among the gods, for by it they sealed their oaths, and the Acheron, river of woe,--with its tributaries, Phlegethon, river of fire, and Cocytus, river of wailing. Hither past the White Rock, which perhaps symbolizes the bleaching skeletons of the dead, and past the gates of the sun, it is the duty of Hermes (Mercury) to conduct the outworn ghosts of mortals. [48] Otherwise he left them gibbering on the hither bank. The abode of Pluto is represented as wide-gated and thronged with guests. At the gate Cerberus, a three-headed, serpent-tailed dog, lay on guard,--friendly to the spirits entering, but inimical to those who would depart.

The palace itself is dark and gloomy, set in the midst of uncanny fields haunted by strange apparitions. The groves of somber trees about the palace,--the meads of Asphodel, barren or, at best, studded with futile bushes and pale-flowered weeds, where wander the shades,--and the woods along the waste shore "of tall poplars and willows that shed their fruit before the season" are, without any particular discrimination, celebrated by the poets as the Garden of Proserpine.

Here life has death for neighbor, And far from eye or ear Wan waves and wet winds labor, Weak ships and spirits steer; They drive adrift, and whither They wot not who make thither; But no such winds blow hither, And no such things grow here.

No growth of moor or coppice, No heather-flower or vine, But bloomless buds of poppies, Green grapes of Proserpine, Pale beds of blowing rushes, Where no leaf blooms or blushes Save this whereout she crushes For dead men deadly wine. * Pale, beyond porch and portal, Crowned with calm leaves, she stands Who gathers all things mortal With cold immortal hands; Her languid lips are sweeter Than love's, who fears to greet her, To men that mix and meet her From many times and lands.

She waits for each and other, She waits for all men born; Forgets the earth her mother, The life of fruits and corn; And spring and seed and swallow Take wing for her and follow Where summer song rings hollow, And flowers are put to scorn. * We are not sure of sorrow, And joy was never sure; To-day will die to-morrow; Time stoops to no man's lure; And love, grown faint and fretful, With lips but half regretful Sighs, and with eyes forgetful Weeps that no loves endure.

From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives forever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Then star nor sun shall waken, Nor any change of light; Nor sound of waters shaken, Nor any sound or sight; Nor wintry leaves nor vernal, Nor days nor things diurnal: Only the sleep eternal In an eternal night.[49]

=45. = With the ghosts of Hades the living might but rarely communicate, and only through certain oracles of the dead, situate by cavernous spots and sheer abysms, deep and melancholy streams, and baleful marshes. These naturally seemed to afford access to the world below, which with the later poets, such as Virgil, comes to be regarded as under the ground. [50] Before the judges of the lower world,--Minos, Æacus, and Rhadamanthus,--the souls of the dead were brought to trial. The condemned were assigned to regions where all manner of torment awaited them at the hands of monsters dire,--the fifty-headed Hydra and the avenging Furies. Some evildoers, such as the Titans of old, were doomed to languish in the gulf of Tartarus immeasurably below. But the souls of the guiltless passed to the Elysian Fields, where each followed the chosen pursuit of his former life in a land of spring, sunlight, happiness, and song.

And by the Fields there flowed the river Lethe, from which the souls of those that were to return to the earth in other bodies drank oblivion of their former lives.

=46. The Islands of the Blest.= Homer mentions, elsewhere, an Elysium of the western seas, which is a happy land, "where life is easiest for men: no snow is there, nor yet great storm, nor any rain; but always ocean sendeth forth the breeze of the shrill West to blow cool on men."[51] Hither favored heroes pass without dying, and live under the happy rule of Rhadamanthus. The Elysium of Hesiod and Pindar is likewise in the Western Ocean, on the Islands of the Blessed, the Fortunate Isles. From this dream of a western Elysium may have sprung the legend of the island Atlantis. That blissful region may have been wholly imaginary. It is, however, not impossible that the myth had its origin in the reports of storm-driven mariners who had caught a glimpse of occidental lands. In these Islands of the Blest, the Titans, released from Tartarus after many years, dwelt under the golden sway of the white-haired Cronus.[52]

There was no heavy heat, no cold, The dwellers there wax never old, Nor wither with the waning time, But each man keeps that age he had When first he won the fairy clime. The night falls never from on high, Nor ever burns the heat of noon; But such soft light eternally Shines, as in silver dawns of June Before the sun hath climbed the sky! * All these their mirth and pleasure made Within the plain Elysian, The fairest meadow that may be, With all green fragrant trees for shade, And every scented wind to fan, And sweetest flowers to strew the lea; The soft winds are their servants fleet To fetch them every fruit at will And water from the river chill; And every bird that singeth sweet, Throstle, and merle, and nightingale, Brings blossoms from the dewy vale,-- Lily, and rose, and asphodel,-- With these doth each guest twine his crown And wreathe his cup, and lay him down Beside some friend he loveth well.[53]

=47. Pluto (Hades)= was brother of Jupiter. To him fell the sovereignty of the lower world and the shades of the dead. In his character of Hades, the viewless, he is hard and inexorable.

By virtue of the helmet or cap given him by the Cyclopes, he moved hither and yon, dark, unseen,--hated of mortals. He was, however, lord not only of all that descends to the bowels of the earth, but of all that proceeds from the earth; and in the latter aspect he was revered as Pluto, or the giver of wealth. At his pleasure he visited the realms of day,--as when he carried off Proserpina; occasionally he journeyed to Olympus; but otherwise he ignored occurrences in the upper world, nor did he suffer his subjects, by returning, to find them out. Mortals, when they called on his name, beat the ground with their hands and, averting their faces, sacrificed black sheep to him and to his queen. Among the Romans he is known also as Dis, Orcus, and Tartarus. But Orcus is rather Death, or the Underworld, than ruler of the shades.

=48. Proserpina (Persephone)= was the daughter of Ceres and Jupiter. She was queen of Hades,--a name applied both to the ruler of the shades and to his realm. When she is goddess of spring, dear to mankind, Proserpina bears a cornucopia overflowing with flowers, and revisits the earth in duly recurring season. But when she is goddess of death, sitting beside Pluto, she directs the Furies, and, like her husband, is cruel, unyielding, inimical to youth and life and hope. In the story of her descent to Hades will be found a further account of her attributes and fortunes.

=49. Æacus, Rhadamanthus, and Minos, sons of Jupiter and judges of the shades in the lower world. Æacus had been during his earthly life a righteous king of the island of Ægina. Minos had been a famous lawgiver and king of Crete. The life of Rhadamanthus was not eventful. The Furies (Erinyes or Eumenides), Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megæra, born of the blood of the wounded Uranus. They were attendants of Proserpina. They punished with the frenzies of remorse the crimes of those who had escaped from or defied public justice. The heads of the Furies were wreathed with serpents. Hecate, a mysterious divinity sometimes identified with Diana and sometimes with Proserpina. As Diana represents the moonlight splendor of night, so Hecate represents its darkness and terrors. She haunted crossroads and graveyards, was the goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and wandered by night, seen only by the dogs whose barking told of her approach.

[54] They dwell in subterranean darkness. [55] They dwell beside their brother Death, along the Western Sea. [56]

FOOTNOTES:

[44] For interpretation and illustration, see corresponding sections of Commentary.

[45] Iliad, 22, 482; 9, 568; 20, 61.

[46] Odyssey, 10, 508; 11, 20; 24, 1.

[47] Sophocles, [OE]dipus Rex, 177.

[48] Æneid, 6, 295.

[49] From The Garden of Proserpine, by A. C. Swinburne.

[50] Æneid, 6.

[51] Odyssey, 4, 561.

[52] Hes. Works and Days, 169.

[53] From The Fortunate Islands, by Andrew Lang.

[54] Iliad, 14, 231; 16, 672.

[55] Odyssey, 24, 12; 19, 560. Æneid, 6, 893. Ovid, Metam. 11, 592.

[56] For genealogical table, see Commentary.

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=50. = There were two dynasties of the sea. The Older, which flourished during the rule of Cronus, was founded by the Titans, Oceanus and Tethys, from whom sprang three thousand rivers and ocean-nymphs unnumbered. The palace of Oceanus was beyond the limits of the bountiful earth,[58] surrounded by gardens and all things fair. From ages immemorial another dweller in the glimmering caves of Ocean was Pontus (the deep sea or the waterway), who became, by Mother Earth, father of Nereus. This Nereus, a genial old man of the sea, was distinguished for his prophetic gifts, his knowledge, his love of truth and justice. [59] Of these daughters the most famous are Panope, Galatea, Thetis, and Amphitrite; the last of whom gave her hand to Neptune (Poseidon), brother of Jove, and thus united the Older and the Younger dynasties of the sea.

=51.= Of the =Younger Dynasty= of the waters Neptune and Amphitrite were the founders. Neptune's palace was in the depths of the sea, near Ægæ in Eub[oe]a; but he made his home on Olympus when he chose. The symbol of his power was the trident, or three-pronged spear, with which he could shatter rocks, call forth or subdue storms, and shake the shores of earth. He created the horse and was the patron of horse races. His own steeds were brazen-hoofed and golden-maned. They drew his chariot over the sea, which became smooth before him, while dolphins and other monsters of the deep gamboled about his path. In his honor black and white bulls, white boars, and rams were sacrificed.

=52. The Lesser Divinities of= =the Waters=[60] were: 1. Triton, the son of Neptune and Amphitrite, trumpeter of Ocean. By his blast on the sea-shell he stirred or allayed the waves. 2. Proteus, an attendant and, according to certain traditions, a son of Neptune. Like Nereus, he was a little old man of the sea. He possessed the prophetic gift and the power of changing his shape at will. 3. The Harpies, foul creatures, with heads of maidens, bodies, wings, and claws of birds, and faces pale with hunger. They are the offspring of Thaumas, a son of Pontus and Gæa. 4. The uncanny offspring of Phorcys and Ceto,--children of Pontus,--who rejoiced in the horrors of the sea:

a. The Grææ, three hoary witches, with one eye between them which they used in turn.

b. The Gorgons, whose glance was icy death.

c. The Sirens, muses of the sea and of death, who by their sweet singing enticed seafarers to destruction.

d. Scylla, also destructive to mariners, a six-headed monster whose lower limbs were serpents and ever-barking dogs. Atlas, who stood in the far west, bearing on his shoulders the vault of heaven. He was once regarded as a divinity of the sea, but later as a mountain. He was the son of Iapetus and the father of three classes of nymphs,--the Pleiads, the Hyads, and, according to some stories, the Hesperids. The last-mentioned, assisted by their mother Hesperis and a dragon, guarded the golden apples of the tree that had sprung up to grace the wedding of Jove and Juno. The daughters of Atlas were not themselves divinities of the sea. Beside the Oceanids and the Nereïds, who have already been mentioned, of most importance were the Naiads_, daughters of Jupiter. They presided over brooks and fountains. Other lesser powers of the Ocean were Glaucus, Leucothea, and Melicertes, of whom more is said in another section.

In the following statement of the difference between ancient and modern conceptions of nature, the poet lends new charm to the fabled rulers of the sea.

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are upgathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.[61]

FOOTNOTES:

[57] For references to poetry and works of art, see corresponding sections of Commentary.

[58] Iliad, 14, 303.

[59] Iliad, 18, 30-50.

[60] For genealogical table, see Commentary.

[61] Wordsworth, Miscellaneous Sonnets.

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=53. Gods Common to Greece and Italy.= Of the deities already mentioned, the following, although they were later identified with certain Greek gods and goddesses[62] whose characteristics and adventures they assumed, had developed an independent worship in Italy: Jupiter (Zeus); Juno (Hera); Minerva (Athene); Diana (Artemis); Mars (Ares); Venus (Aphrodite); Vulcanus, or Mulciber (Hephæstus); Vesta (Hestia); Mercurius (Hermes); Neptunus (Poseidon); Ceres (Demeter); Liber (Bacchus); Libera (Persephone); Magna Mater, the great mother of the gods (Rhea, Cybele); Orcus (Pluto, Hades); Tellus, the Earth (Gæa).

=54. Saturn, an ancient Italian deity (as his name indicates) of seeds and sowing, the introducer of agriculture. Fanciful attempts were made to identify him with the Grecian god Cronus; and it was fabled that after his dethronement by Jupiter he fled to Italy, where he reigned during the Golden Age. In memory of his dominion, the feast of Saturnalia was held every year in the winter season. Then all public business was suspended; declarations of war and criminal executions were postponed; friends made presents to one another; and even slaves were indulged with great liberties. A feast was given them at which they sat at table while their masters served, to show the natural equality of men, and that all things belonged equally to all in the reign of Saturn. The wife of Saturn was Ops, goddess of sowing and harvest (later confounded with Rhea). Another Roman deity of earth was Consus, whose name means "the keeper of the stores."

He is the god of the stored-up harvest; and his altar is said to have been discovered underground by Romulus. It was in the Circus Maximus and was uncovered only on the days of his festivals, the harvest home of August and the granary feast of December. The underground altar is a reminiscence of the ancient custom of storing corn underground or at any rate of burying the sacrifices offered to deities of the earth. The harvest festival was celebrated with horse races, which, originating in a very simple way with the primitive farmers, became in time the distinctive feature of the Circus Maximus. Janus, whose name is derived from the Latin root which means "going" and is connected with janua, a passage or door, is the most distinctive and most important of the native Italic deities. He is not only the god of doors, or material openings, but more truly of beginnings,--especially of good beginnings which insure good endings.

Hence undoubtedly he is represented as facing both ways; for the Romans very properly believed that beginning and ending were of the same piece, and that an undertaking ill begun could not achieve success. His temple, or covered passage, in the Forum had doors facing east and west for the beginning and ending of the day; and between stood his two-faced statue. In every home the morning prayer was addressed to him; in every domestic enterprise his assistance was implored. He was the god, also, of the opening year; hence his month, January, on the first day of which words only of good omen were uttered, and gifts were given (strenae, a name still preserved in the French word for New Year's presents, étrennes), and, for good luck, some stroke of work was bestowed on every undertaking planned for the year.

He was publicly invoked not only on New Year's day, but on the first day of each month, by priests and people alike; and in these prayers his name was mentioned even before that of Jupiter. [64] Of course he was invoked when wars were commenced. And during their progress the doors of his temple stood always open. In peace they were closed; but they were shut only once between the reign of Numa and that of Augustus. It was natural that his worship should gradually absorb that of Sol, the Sun, who opens the day and completes the year and blesses with his rays the seeds that are sown; and such was the case. But Janus and his wife Jana were not originally connected even in name with Dianus (Sol, Apollo) and Diana (the moon). Quirinus, a war-god, said to be no other than Romulus, the founder of Rome, exalted after his death to a place among the immortals. Bellona, a war-goddess.

Lucina, the goddess who brings to light, hence the goddess of childbirth: a title bestowed on both Juno and Diana. Terminus, the god of landmarks. His statue was a rude stone or post, set in the ground to mark the boundaries of fields. Faunus, the grandson of Saturn. He was worshiped as a god of fields and shepherds and also of prophecy. His name in the plural, Fauni, expressed a class of gamesome deities, like the Satyrs of the Greeks. There was also a goddess called Fauna, or Bona Dea (good goddess). To Maia, wife of Vulcan, this designation, Bona Dea, was sometimes applied. Sylvanus, presiding over forest-glades and plowed fields. Vertumnus, the husband of Pomona, was guardian of fruit trees, gardens, and vegetables.

Pomona loves the orchard, And Liber loves the vine, And Pales loves the straw-built shed Warm with the breath of kine; And Venus loves the whisper Of plighted youth and maid In April's ivory moonlight, Beneath the chestnut shade.[65] 10. The Penates, gods who were supposed to attend to the welfare and prosperity of the family. Their name is derived from Penus, the storehouse or inner chamber, which was sacred to them. Every master of a family was the priest to the Penates of his own house.

The Lares, or Lars, were also tutelary deities, but they differed from the Penates since they were regarded as the deified spirits of ancestors, who watched over and protected their descendants. The Lares were more particularly divinities presiding over the household or family; but there were also public Lares, or guardian spirits of the city, Lares of the precincts, Lares of the fields, Lares of the highways, and Lares of the sea. To the Penates, to the domestic Lares (whose images were preserved in a private shrine), and to the Manes (shades that hovered over the place of burial), the family prayers of the Romans were addressed. Other spirits, the Lemures and Larvæ, more nearly correspond to our ghosts.

The Romans believed that every man had his Genius and every woman her Juno; that is, a spirit who had given them being and was regarded as a protector through life. On birthdays men made offerings to their Genius, women to their Juno. 11. Other Italian deities were the gods of the rivers, such as Father Tiber, and the goddesses of the springs and brooks, such as Juturna, whose pool in the Forum was sacred. This nymph was also a goddess of healing and, according to later tradition, was beloved by Jupiter. Earlier stories, however, make her the wife of Janus and the mother of Fontus, the god of flowing waters, who had an altar on the Janiculan hill and was worshiped at an annual festival called the Fontinalia, when the wells were wreathed with garlands. Held in especial honor were the Camenæ, fountain-nymphs, goddesses of prophecy and healing (later identified with the Muses).

The leader of them was Carmenta, who sang both the future and the past. With her is sometimes associated the nymph Egeria, from whom the Roman king Numa is said to have received instruction concerning the forms of worship which he introduced. 12. The Romans worshiped, also, Sol, the Sun; Luna, the Moon; Mater Matuta, the Dawn; Juventus, Youth; Fides, Honesty; Feronia, goddess of groves and freedmen; and a great number of personified abstractions of conduct and experience, such as Fortune and Health.

Many of these Latin divinities were derived from the earlier cult and ritual of the Etruscan inhabitants of Italy.

FOOTNOTES:

[62] Names of the corresponding Greek divinities are in parentheses.

[63] For illustrative material, see Commentary.

[64] Gellius, 5, 12. Ovid, Fasti, 1, 179. Macrobius, Sat. 1, 9-15.

[65] From Macaulay's Prophecy of Capys.

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=55. Myths of Jupiter and Juno.= Not a few of the adventures of Jupiter turn on his love affairs. Among the immortals his queen had rivals in his affection; for instance, Latona, a goddess of darkness, daughter of the Titans C[oe]us and Ph[oe]be. This goddess became, as we have already seen, the mother of Apollo and Diana. The ire of Juno against her was never appeased. In consequence of it, numerous trials were visited on Latona, some of which find a place among the adventures of her children.

=56. Love Affairs of Jupiter.= Not only with immortals but with mortals were Jupiter's relations sometimes of a dubious character. His devotion to the beautiful daughters of men involved him in frequent altercations with his justly jealous spouse. Of his fondness for Danaë, whom he approached in a shower of gold, particulars are given in the story of her son Perseus; of his love for Alcmene, the granddaughter of that Perseus, we are informed in the myths of her son Hercules; and of his attentions to Leda, whom he wooed in guise of a swan, we learn in the accounts of their children Pollux and Helen. Other love passages, on which narratives depend, concern Io, Callisto, Europa, Semele, Ægina, and Antiope.

=57. Io=[66] was of divine ancestry. Her father was the river-god Inachus, son of Oceanus. It is said that Juno one day, perceiving the skies suddenly overcast, surmised that her husband had raised a cloud to hide some escapade. She brushed away the darkness and saw him on the banks of a glassy river with a beautiful heifer standing near. Juno suspected, with reason, that the heifer's form concealed some fair nymph of mortal mold. It was Io, whom Jupiter, when he became aware of the approach of his wife, had changed into that form.

The ox-eyed goddess joined her husband, noticed the heifer, praised its beauty, and asked whose it was and of what herd. Jupiter, to stop questions, replied that it was a fresh creation from the earth. Juno begged it as a gift. What could the king of gods and men do? He was loath to surrender his sweetheart to his wife; yet how refuse so trifling a present as a heifer? He could not, without exciting suspicion, and he therefore consented. The goddess delivered the heifer to Argus, to be strictly watched.

Now Argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never went to sleep with more than two at a time, so that he kept watch of Io constantly. He suffered her to graze through the day and at night tied a rope round her neck. She would have stretched out her arms to implore freedom of Argus, but that she had no arms to stretch out and her voice was a bellow. She yearned in vain to make herself known to her father. At length she bethought herself of writing, and inscribed her name--it was a short one--with her hoof on the sand. Inachus recognized it, and, discovering that his daughter whom he had long sought in vain was hidden under this disguise, mourned over her. While he thus lamented, Argus, observing, drove her away and took his seat on a bank from whence he could see in every direction.

Jupiter, grieved by the sufferings of his mistress, sent Mercury to dispatch Argus. Mercury took his sleep-producing wand and presented himself on earth as a shepherd driving his flock. As he strolled, he blew on his syrinx or Pandean pipes. Argus listened with delight. "Young man," said he, "come and take a seat by me on this stone. There is no better place for your flock to graze in than hereabouts, and here is a pleasant shade such as shepherds love." Mercury sat down, talked, told stories till it grew late, and played on his pipes his most soothing strains, hoping to lull the watchful eyes to sleep, but in vain; for Argus still contrived to keep some of his eyes open, though he shut the rest.

But among other stories, Mercury told him how the instrument on which he played was invented. "There was a certain nymph," said he, "whose name was Syrinx,--much beloved by the satyrs and spirits of the wood. She would have none of them, but was a faithful worshiper of Diana and followed the chase. Pan, meeting her one day, wooed her with many compliments, likening her to Diana of the silver bow. Without stopping to hear him she ran away. But on the bank of the river he overtook her. She called for help on her friends, the water-nymphs. They heard and consented. Pan threw his arms around what he supposed to be the form of the nymph and found he embraced only a tuft of reeds. As he breathed a sigh, the air sounded through the reeds and produced a plaintive melody. Whereupon the god, charmed with the novelty and with the sweetness of the music, said, 'Thus, then, at least, you shall be mine.'

Taking some of the reeds of unequal lengths and placing them together, side by side, he made an instrument and called it Syrinx, in honor of the nymph." Before Mercury had finished his story he saw the eyes of Argus all asleep. At once he slew him and set Io free. The eyes of Argus Juno took and scattered as ornaments on the tail of her peacock, where they remain to this day.

But the vengeance of Juno was not yet satiated. She sent a gadfly to torment Io, who, in her flight, swam through the sea, named after her, Ionian. Afterward, roaming over many lands, she reached at last the banks of the Nile. Then Jupiter interceded for her; and on his engaging not to pay her any further attention, Juno consented to restore her to her form.

In a poem dedicated to Leigh Hunt, by Keats, the following allusion to the story of Pan and Syrinx occurs:

So did he feel who pulled the boughs aside, That we might look into a forest wide,... Telling us how fair trembling Syrinx fled Arcadian Pan, with such a fearful dread. Poor nymph--poor Pan--how he did weep to find Nought but a lovely sighing of the wind Along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain, Full of sweet desolation, balmy pain.

=58. Callisto= of Arcadia was another maiden who excited the jealousy of Juno. Her the goddess changed into a bear. Often, frightened by the dogs, Callisto, though lately a huntress, fled in terror from the hunters. Often, too, she fled from the wild beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild beast herself; and, bear as she was, she feared the bears.

One day a youth espied her as he was hunting. She saw him and recognized him as her son Arcas, grown to manhood. She stopped and felt inclined to embrace him. He, alarmed, raised his hunting spear and was on the point of transfixing her, but Jupiter arrested the crime and, snatching away both of them, placed them in the heavens as the Great and Little Bear.

Juno, enraged at seeing her rival so set in honor, hastened to ancient Tethys and Oceanus and, complaining that she was supplanted in Heaven, cried, "So do my punishments result--such is the extent of my power! I forbade her to wear human form,--she and her hateful son are placed among the stars. Better that she should have resumed her former shape, as I permitted Io to do. Perhaps my husband means to take her to wife, and put me away! But you, my foster parents, if you feel for me, and see with displeasure this unworthy treatment of me, show it, I beseech you, by forbidding this guilty couple from coming into your waters." The powers of the Ocean assented, and consequently the two constellations of the Great and Little Bear move round and round in the neighborhood of the pole, but never sink, as do the other stars, beneath the Ocean.[67]

=59. Europa= was the daughter of Agenor, king of Ph[oe]nicia, son of the god Neptune. The story of Jupiter's love for her is thus told by the idyllic poet, Moschus:

To Europa, princess of Asia, once on a time, a sweet dream was sent by Cypris.... Then she beheld two continents at strife for her sake, Asia and the further shore, both in the shape of women. Of these one had the guise of a stranger, the other of a lady of that land, and closer still she clung about her maiden, and kept saying how she was her mother, and herself had nursed Europa. But that other with mighty hands, and forcefully, kept haling the maiden, nothing loth; declaring that, by the will of ægis-bearing Jupiter, Europa was destined to be her prize.

But Europa leaped forth from her strown bed in terror, with beating heart, in such clear vision had she beheld the dream.... And she said, "Ah! who was the alien woman that I beheld in my sleep? How strange a longing for her seized my heart, yea, and how graciously she herself did welcome me, and regard me as it had been her own child! Ye blessed gods, I pray you, prosper the fulfillment of the dream!"

Therewith she arose, and began to seek the dear maidens of her company, girls of like age with herself, born in the same year, beloved of her heart, the daughters of noble sires, with whom she was always wont to sport, when she was arrayed for the dance, or when she would bathe her bright body at the mouths of the rivers, or would gather fragrant lilies on the leas....

Now the girls, so soon as they were come to the flowering meadows, took great delight in various sorts of flowers, whereof one would pluck sweet-breathed narcissus, another the hyacinth, another the violet, a fourth the creeping thyme; and on the ground there fell many petals of the meadows rich with spring. Others, again, were emulously gathering the fragrant tresses of the yellow crocus; but in the midst of them all the princess culled with her hand the splendor of the crimson rose, and shone preëminent among them all like the foam-born goddess among the Graces. For of a truth, the son of Cronus, so soon as he beheld her, was troubled, and his heart was subdued by the sudden shafts of Cypris, who alone can conquer even Jupiter.

He came into the meadow, and his coming terrified not the maidens, nay, within them all wakened desire to draw nigh the lovely bull, and to touch him, and his heavenly fragrance was scattered afar, exceeding even the sweet perfume of the meadows. And he stood before the feet of fair Europa, and kept licking her neck, and cast his spell over the maiden. And she still caressed him, and gently with her hands she wiped away the deep foam from his lips, and kissed the bull. Then he lowed so gently, ye would think ye heard the Mygdonian flute uttering a dulcet sound.

He bowed himself before her feet, and bending back his neck, he gazed on Europa, and showed her his broad back. Then she spake among her deep-tressed maidens, saying,--

"Come, dear playmates, maidens of like age with me, let us mount the bull here and take our pastime, for, truly, he will bear us on his back, and carry all of us! And how mild he is, and dear, and gentle to behold, and no whit like other bulls! A mind as honest as a man's possesses him, and he lacks nothing but speech."

So she spake, and smiling, she sat down on the back of the bull, and the others were about to follow her. But the bull leaped up immediately, now he had gotten her that he desired, and swiftly he sped to the deep. The maiden turned, and called again and again to her dear playmates, stretching out her hands, but they could not reach her. The strand he gained, and forward he sped like a dolphin, faring with unwetted hooves over the wide waves. And the sea, as he came, grew smooth, and the sea monsters gamboled around, before the feet of Jupiter; and the dolphin rejoiced, and rising from the deeps, he tumbled on the swell of the sea. The Nereïds arose out of the salt water, and all of them came on in orderly array, riding on the backs of sea beasts.

And himself, the thunderous shaker of the world, appeared above the sea, and made smooth the wave, and guided his brother on the salt sea path, and round him were gathered the Tritons, these hoarse trumpeters of the deep, blowing from their long conchs a bridal melody.

Meanwhile, Europa, riding on the back of the divine bull, with one hand clasped the beast's great horn, and with the other caught up the purple fold of her garment, lest it might trail and be wet in the hoar sea's infinite spray. And her deep robe was swelled out by the winds, like the sail of a ship, and lightly still did waft the maiden onward. But when she was now far off from her own country, and neither sea-beat headland nor steep hill could now be seen, but above, the air, and beneath, the limitless deep, timidly she looked around, and uttered her voice, saying,--

"Whither bearest thou me, bull god? What art thou? How dost thou fare on thy feet through the path of the sea beasts, nor fearest the sea? The sea is a path meet for swift ships that traverse the brine, but bulls dread the salt sea ways. What drink is sweet to thee, what food shalt thou find from the deep? Nay, art thou then some god, for godlike are these deeds of thine."...

So spake she, and the horned bull made answer to her again: "Take courage, maiden, and dread not the swell of the deep. Behold, I am Jupiter, even I, though, closely beheld, I wear the form of a bull, for I can put on the semblance of what thing I will. But 'tis love of thee that has compelled me to measure out so great a space of the salt sea, in a bull's shape. So Crete shall presently receive thee, Crete that was mine own foster-mother, where thy bridal chamber shall be."[68]

According to tradition, from this princess the continent of Europe acquired its name. Her three sons are famous in Greek myth: Minos, who became king of Crete, and after his death a judge in the lower world; Rhadamanthus, who also was regarded as king and judge in the world of ghosts; and Sarpedon, who was ancestor of the Lycians.

The adventures of Europa's brother Cadmus, who by the command of his father went forth in quest of the lost maiden, fall under the myths of Mars.[69]

=60. Semele= was the daughter of Cadmus, founder of Thebes. She was descended, through both parents, from the gods; for her mother Harmonia was daughter to Mars and the laughter-loving Venus. To Semele Jupiter had appeared, and had paid court in unostentatious manner and simple guise. But Juno, to gratify her resentment against this new rival for her lord's affections, contrived a plan for her destruction. Assuming the form of Beroë, the aged nurse of Semele, she insinuated doubts whether it was indeed Jove himself who came as a lover. Heaving a sigh, she said, "I hope it will turn out so, but I cannot help being afraid. People are not always what they pretend to be. If he is indeed Jove, make him give some proof of it. Ask him to come arrayed in all his splendors, such as he wears in Heaven. That will put the matter beyond a doubt." Semele was persuaded to try the experiment. She asks a favor, without naming what it is.

Jove gives his promise, and confirms it with the irrevocable oath, attesting the river Styx, terrible to the gods themselves. Then she made known her request. The god would have stopped her as she spake, but she was too quick for him. The words escaped, and he could neither unsay his promise nor her request. In deep distress he left her and returned to the upper regions. There he clothed himself in his splendors, not putting on all his terrors, as when he overthrew the giants, but what is known among the gods as his lesser panoply. With thunders and lightnings he entered the chamber of Semele. Her mortal frame could not endure the splendors of the immortal radiance. [71] Semele, in the blissful seats of Heaven, whither she was transported by the sorrowful Jove, has been represented as recounting thus the story of her doom:

What were the garden-bowers of Thebes to me? What cared I for their dances and their feasts, Whose heart awaited an immortal doom? The Greek youths mocked me, since I shunned in scorn Them and their praises of my brows and hair. The light girls pointed after me, who turned Soul-sick from their unending fooleries....

There came a change: a glory fell to me. No more 'twas Semele, the lonely girl, But Jupiter's Beloved, Semele. With human arms the god came clasping me: New life streamed from his presence; and a voice, That scarce could curb itself to the smooth Greek, Now and anon swept forth in those deep nights, Thrilling my flesh with awe; mysterious words-- I knew not what; hints of unearthly things That I had felt on solemn summer noons, When sleeping Earth dreamed music, and the heart Went crooning a low song it could not learn, But wandered over it, as one who gropes For a forgotten chord on a lyre.

Yea, Jupiter! But why this mortal guise, Wooing as if he were a milk-faced boy? Did I lack lovers? Was my beauty dulled, The golden hair turned dross, the lithe limbs shrunk? The deathless longings tamed, that I should seethe My soul in love like any shepherd girl? One night he sware to grant whate'er I asked: And straight I cried, "To know thee as thou art! To hold thee on my heart as Juno does! Come in thy thunder--kill me with one fierce Divine embrace!--Thine oath!--Now, Earth, at last!"

The Heavens shot one swift sheet of lurid flame; The world crashed: from a body scathed and torn The soul leapt through, and found his breast, and died. Died?--So the Theban maidens think, and laugh, Saying, "She had her wish, that Semele!" But sitting here on Olympus' height, I look down, through that oval ring of stars, And see the far-off Earth, a twinkling speck-- Dust-mote whirled up from the Sun's chariot wheel-- And pity their small hearts that hold a man As if he were a god; or know the god-- Or dare to know him--only as a man! O human love! art thou forever blind?[72]

=61. Ægina.= The extent to which those who were concerned only indirectly in Jupiter's love affairs might yet be involved in the consequences of them is illustrated by the fortunes of Ægina. This maiden, the daughter of Asopus, a river-god, attracted the attention of Jupiter, who straightway ran off with her. Now, on the one hand, Sisyphus, king of Corinth, having witnessed the intrigue, was indiscreet enough to disclose it. Forthwith the vengeance of the king of gods and men fell on him. He was condemned to Hades and, attempting to escape thence, had resort to a series of deceptions that resulted in his eternal punishment.[73] On the other hand, the inhabitants of the island that had the misfortune to bear Ægina's name incurred the displeasure of Juno, who devastated their land with a plague. The following account of this calamity is placed in the mouth of Æacus, king of the island:[74]

"At the beginning the sky seemed to settle down on the earth and thick clouds shut in the heated air. For four months together a deadly south wind prevailed. The disorder affected the wells and springs. Thousands of snakes crept over the land and shed their poison in the fountains. The force of the disease was first spent on the lower animals,--dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds. The oxen fell in the midst of their work. The wool dropped from the bleating sheep. The horse groaned at his stall and died an inglorious death. Everything languished; dead bodies lay in the roads, the fields, and the woods; the air was poisoned by them. Next the disease attacked the country people, and then the dwellers in the city. At first the cheek was flushed and the breath drawn with difficulty. The tongue grew rough and swelled, and the dry mouth stood open, with its veins enlarged, and gasped for the air.

Men could not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, but preferred to lie on the bare ground. Nor could the physicians help, for the disease attacked them also. At last men learned to look on death as the only deliverer from disease. All restraint laid aside, they crowded round the wells and fountains, and drank, without quenching thirst, till they died. On all sides lay my people strewn like over-ripened apples beneath the tree, or acorns under the storm-shaken oak. You see yonder a temple on the height. It is sacred to Jupiter. Often, while the priest made ready for sacrifice, the victim fell, struck down by disease without waiting for the blow. At length all reverence for sacred things was lost. Bodies were thrown out unburied, wood was wanting for funeral piles, men fought with one another for the possession of them. Finally there were none left to mourn; sons and husbands, old men and youths, perished alike unlamented.

'O Jupiter,' I said, 'if thou art indeed my father, give me back my people, or take me also away!' 'I accept the omen,' I cried. By chance there grew by the place where I stood an oak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to Jupiter. I observed on it a troop of ants busy with their labor. Observing their numbers with admiration, I said, 'Give me, O father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish my empty city.' The tree shook, and the branches rustled, though no wind agitated them. Night came on. The tree stood before me in my dreams, with its numerous branches all covered with living, moving creatures, which, falling to the ground, appeared to gain in size, and by and by to stand erect, and finally to assume the human form. Then I awoke. My attention was caught by the sound of many voices without.

While I began to think I was yet dreaming, Telamon, my son, throwing open the temple gates, exclaimed, 'Father, approach, and behold things surpassing even your hopes!' I went forth; I saw a multitude of men, such as I had seen in my dream. While I gazed with wonder and delight, they approached and, kneeling, hailed me as their king. I paid my vows to Jove, and proceeded to allot the vacant city to the new-born race. I called them Myrmidons from the ant (myrmex), from which they sprang. They are a diligent and industrious race, eager to gain, and tenacious of their gains."

The Myrmidons were the soldiers of Achilles, the grandson of King Æacus, in the Trojan War.

=62. Antiope= was, according to the Odyssey, another daughter of Asopus, therefore a sister of Ægina. But later poets make this darling of Jove daughter of Nycteus, king of Thebes. While she was engaged in the Mænad dances, Jupiter as a satyr wooed and won her. She bore him two sons, Amphion and Zethus, who, being exposed at birth on Mount Cithæron, grew up among the shepherds, not knowing their parentage. After various adventures Antiope fell into the hands of her uncle Lycus, the usurping king of Thebes, who, egged on by his wife Dirce, treated her with extreme cruelty. Finally, when doomed by Dirce to be dragged to death behind a bull, Antiope found means to inform her children of her kinship to them. As it happened, they had been ordered to execute the cruel sentence on their mother. [75]

While among the herdsmen, Amphion had been the special care of Mercury, who gave him a lyre and taught him to play on it. His brother Zethus had occupied himself in hunting and tending the flocks. Amphion himself is one of the most famous of mythical musicians. Having become king of Thebes, it is said that when he played on his lyre, stones moved of their own accord and took their places in the wall with which he was fortifying the city.... 'Tis said he had a tuneful tongue, Such happy intonation, Wherever he sat down and sung He left a small plantation; Wherever in a lonely grove He set up his forlorn pipes, The gouty oak began to move, And flounder into hornpipes.

The mountain stirred its bushy crown, And, as tradition teaches, Young ashes pirouetted down Coquetting with young beeches; And briony-vine and ivy-wreath Ran forward to his rhyming, And from the valleys underneath Came little copses climbing.

The linden broke her ranks and rent The woodbine wreaths that bind her, And down the middle, buzz! she went With all her bees behind her: The poplars, in long order due, With cypress promenaded, The shock-head willows, two and two, By rivers gallopaded.

Came wet-shot alder from the wave, Came yews, a dismal coterie; Each plucked his one foot from the grave, Poussetting with a sloe-tree: Old elms came breaking from the vine, The vine streamed out to follow, And, sweating rosin, plumped the pine From many a cloudy hollow.

And wasn't it a sight to see, When, ere his song was ended, Like some great landslip, tree by tree, The country-side descended; And shepherds from the mountain-eaves Looked down, half-pleased, half-frightened, As dashed about the drunken leaves The random sunshine lightened.[76]

The musician's life was, however, not all harmony and happiness. Owing to the pride of his wife Niobe, daughter of King Tantalus, there befell him and his house a crushing calamity, which is narrated among the exploits of Apollo and Diana.

=63. Jupiter, a Friend of Man.= The kindly interest evinced by the Thunderer toward mortals is displayed in the story of Baucis and Philemon. Once on a time Jupiter, in human shape, visited the land of Phrygia, and with him Mercury, without his wings.

They presented themselves as weary travelers at many a door, seeking rest and shelter, but found all closed; for it was late, and the inhospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves to open for their reception. At last a small thatched cottage received them, where Baucis, a pious old dame, and her husband Philemon had grown old together. Not ashamed of their poverty, they made it endurable by moderate desires and kind dispositions. When the two guests crossed the humble threshold and bowed their heads to pass under the low door, the old man placed a seat, on which Baucis, bustling and attentive, spread a cloth, and begged them to sit down. Then she raked out the coals from the ashes, kindled a fire, and prepared some pot-herbs and bacon for them. A beechen bowl was filled with warm water, that their guests might wash. While all was doing, they beguiled the time with conversation.

The old woman with trembling hand set the table. One leg was shorter than the rest, but a piece of slate put under restored the level. When it was steady she rubbed the table down with sweet-smelling herbs. On it she set some of chaste Minerva's olives, some cornel berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes and cheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes. The meal was served in earthen dishes; and an earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups, stood beside them. When all was ready the stew, smoking hot, was set on the table. Some wine, not of the oldest, was added, and for dessert, apples and wild honey.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

Now while the repast proceeded, the old folks were astonished to see that the wine, as fast as it was poured out, renewed itself in the pitcher of its own accord. Struck with terror, Baucis and Philemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell on their knees, and with clasped hands implored forgiveness for their poor entertainment. There was an old goose, which they kept as the guardian of their humble cottage, and they bethought them to make this a sacrifice in honor of their guests. But the goose, too nimble for the old folk, with the aid of feet and wings eluded their pursuit and at last took shelter between the gods themselves. They forbade it to be slain, and spoke in these words: "We are gods. This inhospitable village shall pay the penalty of its impiety; you alone shall go free from the chastisement. Quit your house and come with us to the top of yonder hill." They hastened to obey.

The country behind them was speedily sunk in a lake, only their own house left standing. While they gazed with wonder at the sight, that old house of theirs was changed. Columns took the place of the corner posts, the thatch grew yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors became marble, the doors were enriched with carving and ornaments of gold. Then spoke Jupiter in benignant accents: "Excellent old man, and woman worthy of such a husband, speak, tell us your wishes. What favor have you to ask of us?" Philemon took counsel with Baucis a few moments, then declared to the gods their common wish. "We ask to be priests and guardians of this thy temple, and that one and the same hour may take us both from life." Their prayer was granted.

When they had attained a great age, as they stood one day before the steps of the sacred edifice and were telling the story of the place, Baucis saw Philemon begin to put forth leaves, and Philemon saw Baucis changing in like manner. While still they exchanged parting words, a leafy crown grew over their heads. "Farewell, dear spouse," they said together, and at the same moment the bark closed over their mouths. [77]

They scarce had spoke, when, fair and soft, The roof began to mount aloft; Aloft rose every beam and rafter; The heavy wall climbed slowly after. The chimney widened and grew higher, Became a steeple with a spire. The kettle to the top was hoist, And there stood fastened to a joist, But with the upside down, to show Its inclination for below; In vain, for a superior force, Applied at bottom, stops its course; Doomed ever in suspense to dwell, 'Tis now no kettle, but a bell. A wooden jack, which had almost Lost by disuse the art to roast, A sudden alteration feels, Increased by new intestine wheels; And, what exalts the wonder more, The number made the motion slower; The flier, though 't had leaden feet, Turned round so quick you scarce could see 't; But slackened by some secret power, Now hardly moves an inch an hour. The jack and chimney, near allied, Had never left each other's side.

The chimney to a steeple grown, The jack would not be left alone; But up against the steeple reared, Became a clock, and still adhered; And still its love to household cares By a shrill voice at noon declares, Warning the cook-maid not to burn That roast meat which it cannot turn. The groaning chair began to crawl, Like a huge snail, along the wall; There stuck aloft in public view, And with small change, a pulpit grew. A bedstead of the antique mode, Compact of timber many a load, Such as our ancestors did use, Was metamorphosed into pews, Which still their ancient nature keep By lodging folks disposed to sleep.

=64. = What the queen of heaven deemed the greatest blessing reserved for mortals is narrated in the beautiful myth of Biton and Cleobis. One Cydippe, an ancient priestess of the white-armed goddess, had desired to behold the famous new statue of Hera at Argos. Her sons testified their affection for their mother by yoking themselves, since no oxen were at hand, to her chariot, and so dragging her through heat and dust many a weary league till they reached the temple, where stood the gold and ivory masterwork of Polyclitus. With admiration the devoted priestess and her pious sons were received by the populace crowding round the statue.

and grant for these my pious sons, Who saw my tears, and wound their tender arms Around me, and kissed me calm, and since no steer Stayed in the byre, dragged out the chariot old, And wore themselves the galling yoke, and brought Their mother to the feast of her desire, Grant them, O Hera, thy best gift of gifts!"

Whereat the statue from its jeweled eyes Lightened, and thunder ran from cloud to cloud In heaven, and the vast company was hushed. But when they sought for Cleobis, behold, He lay there still, and by his brother's side Lay Biton, smiling through ambrosial curls, And when the people touched them they were dead.[78]

=65. Myths of Minerva.= Minerva, as we have seen,[79] presided over the useful and ornamental arts, both those of men--such as agriculture and navigation--and those of women--spinning, weaving, and needlework. She was also a warlike divinity, but favored only defensive warfare. With Mars' savage love of violence and bloodshed she, therefore, had no sympathy. Athens, her chosen seat, her own city, was awarded to her as the prize of a peaceful contest with Neptune, who also aspired to it. In the reign of Cecrops, the first king of Athens, the two deities had contended for the possession of the city. The gods decreed that it should be awarded to the one who produced the gift most useful to mortals. Neptune gave the horse; Minerva produced the olive. The gods awarded the city to the goddess, and after her Greek appellation, Athena, it was named.

=66. = In another contest, a mortal dared to come into competition with the gray-eyed daughter of Jove. This was Arachne, a maiden who had attained such skill in the arts of carding and spinning, of weaving and embroidery, that the Nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains to come and gaze on her work. It was not only beautiful when it was done, but beautiful also in the doing. To watch her one would have said that Minerva herself had taught her. But this she denied, and could not bear to be thought a pupil even of a goddess. "Let Minerva try her skill with mine," said she. "If beaten, I will pay the penalty." Minerva heard this and was displeased. Assuming the form of an old woman, she appeared to Arachne and kindly advised her to challenge her fellow mortals if she would, but at once to ask forgiveness of the goddess. Arachne bade the old dame to keep her counsel for others.

"I am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her skill, if she dare venture." "She comes," said Minerva, and dropping her disguise, stood confessed. The Nymphs bent low in homage and all the bystanders paid reverence. Arachne alone was unterrified. A sudden color dyed her cheek, and then she grew pale; but she stood to her resolve and rushed on her fate. They proceed to the contest. Each takes her station and attaches the web to the beam. Then the slender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. The reed with its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place and compacts the web. Wool of Tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the eye.

And the effect is like the bow whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed by sunbeams reflected from the shower,[80] in which, where the colors meet they seem as one, but at a little distance from the point of contact are wholly different.

Minerva wove the scene of her contest with Neptune (Poseidon). Twelve of the heavenly powers were represented, Jupiter, with august gravity, sitting in the midst. Neptune, the ruler of the sea, held his trident and appeared to have just smitten the earth, from which a horse had leaped forth. The bright-eyed goddess depicted herself with helmed head, her ægis covering her breast, as when she had created the olive tree with its berries and its dark green leaves.

Among these leaves she made a Butterfly, With excellent device and wondrous slight, Fluttering among the olives wantonly, That seemed to live, so like it was in sight; The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie, The silken down with which his back is dight, His broad outstretchèd horns, his hairy thighs, His glorious colors, and his glistering eyes.

Which when Arachne saw, as overlaid And masterèd with workmanship so rare, She stood astonished long, ne aught gainsaid; And with fast-fixèd eyes on her did stare.[81]

So wonderful was the central circle of Minerva's web; and in the four corners were represented incidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods at such presumptuous mortals as had dared to contend with them. These were meant as warnings from Minerva to her rival to give up the contest before it was too late.

But Arachne did not yield. She filled her web with subjects designedly chosen to exhibit the failings and errors of the gods. One scene represented Leda caressing the swan; and another, Danaë and the golden shower. Still another depicted Europa deceived by Jupiter under the disguise of a bull. Its appearance was that of a real bull, so naturally was it wrought and so natural the water in which it swam.

With such subjects Arachne filled her canvas, wonderfully well done but strongly marking her presumption and impiety. Minerva could not forbear to admire, yet was indignant at the insult. She struck the web with her shuttle and rent it in pieces; then, touching the forehead of Arachne, she made her realize her guilt. It was more than mortal could bear; and forthwith Arachne hanged herself. "Live, guilty woman," said Minerva, "but that thou mayest preserve the memory of this lesson continue to hang, both thou and thy descendants, to all future times." Then, sprinkling her with the juices of aconite, the goddess transformed her into a spider, forever spinning the thread by which she is suspended.[82]

=67. Myths of Mars.= The relations of Mars to other deities may be best illustrated by passages from the Iliad, which, generally speaking, presents him in no very favorable light.

=68. = In the war of the Greeks and the Trojans,[83] the cause of the former was espoused by Minerva, of the latter by Mars. Among the chieftains of the Greeks in a certain battle, Diomede, son of Tydeus, was prominent. And when they were come nigh in onset on one another, first Mars thrust over the yoke and horses' reins with spear of bronze, eager to take away his life. But the bright-eyed goddess Minerva with her hand seized the spear and thrust it up over the car, to spend itself in vain. Next Diomede of the loud war cry attacked with spear of bronze; and Minerva drave it home against Mars' nethermost belly, where his taslets were girt about him. There smote he him and wounded him, rending through his fair skin,--and plucked forth the spear again. Then brazen Mars bellowed loud as nine thousand warriors or ten thousand cry in battle as they join in strife and fray.

Thereat trembling gat hold of Achæans and Trojans for fear, so mightily bellowed Mars insatiate of battle.

Even as gloomy mist appeareth from the clouds when after heat a stormy wind ariseth, even so to Tydeus' son Diomede brazen Mars appeared amid clouds, faring to wide Heaven. Swiftly came he to the gods' dwelling, steep Olympus, and sat beside Jupiter, son of Cronus, with grief at heart, and showed the immortal blood flowing from the wound, and piteously spake to him winged words: "Father Jupiter, hast thou no indignation to behold these violent deeds? For ever cruelly suffer we gods by one another's devices, in showing men grace. With thee are we all at variance, because thou didst beget that reckless maiden and baleful, whose thought is ever of iniquitous deeds. For all the other gods that are in Olympus hearken to thee, and we are subject every one; only her thou chaste-nest not, neither in deed nor word, but settest her on, because this pestilent one is thine own offspring.

Now hath she urged on Tydeus' son, even overweening Diomede, to rage furiously against the immortal gods. The Cyprian first he wounded in close fight, in the wrist of her hand, and then assailed he me, even me, with the might of a god. Howbeit my swift feet bare me away; else had I long endured anguish there amid the grisly heaps of dead, or else had lived strengthless from the smitings of the spear."

Then Jupiter the cloud-gatherer looked sternly at him, and said: "Nay, thou renegade, sit not by me and whine. Most hateful to me art thou of all gods that dwell in Olympus; thou ever lovest strife and wars and battles. Truly thy mother's spirit is intolerable, unyielding, even Juno's; her can I scarce rule with words. Therefore I deem that by her prompting thou art in this plight. Yet will I no longer endure to see thee in anguish; mine offspring art thou, and to me thy mother bare thee. But wert thou born of any other god unto this violence, long ere this hadst thou been lower than the sons of Heaven."

So spake he and bade Pæan heal him. And Pæan laid assuaging drugs on the wound, and healed him, seeing he was in no wise of mortal mold. Even as fig juice maketh haste to thicken white milk, that is liquid but curdleth speedily as a man stirreth, even so swiftly healed he impetuous Mars. And Hebe bathed him and clothed him in gracious raiment, and he sate down by Jupiter, son of Cronus, glorying in his might.

Then fared the twain back to the mansion of great Jupiter, even Juno and Minerva, having stayed Mars, scourge of mortals, from his man-slaying.[84]

=69. Mars and Minerva.= It would seem that the insatiate son of Juno should have learned by this sad experience to avoid measuring arms with the ægis-bearing Minerva. But he renewed the contest at a later period in the fortunes of the Trojan War:... Jupiter knew what was coming as he sat on Olympus, and his heart within him laughed pleasantly when he beheld that strife of gods. Then no longer stood they asunder, for Mars, piercer of shields, began the battle and first made for Minerva with his bronze spear, and spake a taunting word: "Wherefore, O dogfly, dost thou match gods with gods in strife, with stormy daring, as thy great spirit moveth thee? Rememberest thou not how thou movedst Diomede, Tydeus' son, to wound me, and thyself didst take a visible spear and thrust it straight at me and pierce through my fair skin? Therefore deem I now that thou shalt pay me for all that thou hast done."

Thus saying, he smote on the dread tasseled ægis that not even the lightning of Jupiter can overcome--thereon smote blood-stained Mars with his long spear. But she, giving back, grasped with stout hand a stone that lay on the plain, black, rugged, huge, which men of old time set to be the landmark of a field; this hurled she, and smote impetuous Mars on the neck, and unstrung his limbs. Seven roods he covered in his fall, and soiled his hair with dust, and his armor rang on him. And Minerva laughed, and spake to him winged words exultingly: "Fool, not even yet hast thou learnt how far better than thou I claim to be, that thus thou matchest thy might with mine. Thus shalt thou satisfy thy mother's curses, who deviseth mischief against thee in her wrath, for that thou hast left the Achæans and givest the proud Trojans aid."

Thus having said, she turned from him her shining eyes. Him did Venus, daughter of Jupiter, take by the hand and lead away, groaning continually, for scarce gathered he his spirit back to him.[85]

=70. The Fortunes of Cadmus.= Toward mortals Mars could show himself, on occasion, as vindictive as his fair foe, the unwearied daughter of Jove. This fact not only Cadmus, who slew a serpent sacred to Mars, but all the family of Cadmus found out to their cost.

When Europa was carried away by Jupiter in the guise of a bull, her father Agenor commanded his son Cadmus to go in search of her and not to return without her. Cadmus sought long and far; then, not daring to return unsuccessful, consulted the oracle of Apollo to know what country he should settle in. The oracle informed him that he would find a cow in the field, should follow her wherever she might wander, and where she stopped should build a city and call it Thebes. Cadmus had hardly left the Castalian cave, from which the oracle was delivered, when he saw a young cow slowly walking before him. He followed her close, offering at the same time his prayers to Ph[oe]bus. The cow went on till she passed the shallow channel of Cephissus and came out into the plain of Panope. There she stood still. Cadmus gave thanks, and stooping down kissed the foreign soil, then lifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding mountains.

Wishing to offer a sacrifice to his protecting deity, Minerva, he sent his servants to seek pure water for a libation. Near by there stood an ancient grove which had never been profaned by the ax, in the midst of which was a cave thick covered with the growth of bushes, its roof forming a low arch from beneath which burst forth a fountain of purest water. But in the cave lurked a serpent with crested head, and scales glittering like gold; his eyes shone like fire; his body was swollen with venom; he vibrated a triple tongue and showed a triple row of teeth. No sooner had the Tyrians dipped their pitchers in the fountain and the in-gushing waters had made a sound, than the monster, twisting his scaly body in a huge coil, darted on them and destroyed some with his fangs, others in his folds, and others with his poisonous breath.

Cadmus, having waited for the return of his men till midday, went in search of them. When he entered the wood and saw their lifeless bodies and the dragon with his bloody jaws, not knowing that the serpent was sacred to Mars, scourge of mortals, he lifted a huge stone and threw it with all his force at the monster. The blow made no impression. Minerva, however, was present, unseen, to aid her worshiper. Cadmus next threw his javelin, which penetrated the serpent's scales and pierced through to his entrails. The monster attempted to draw out the weapon with his mouth, but broke it off, leaving the iron point rankling in his flesh. His neck swelled with rage, bloody foam covered his jaws, and the breath of his nostrils poisoned the air around. As he moved onward, Cadmus retreated before him, holding his spear opposite to the serpent's opened jaws.

At last, watching his chance, the hero thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's head thrown back came against the trunk of a tree, and so succeeded in pinning him to its side.

While Cadmus stood over his conquered foe, contemplating its vast size, a voice was heard (from whence he knew not, but it was Minerva's) commanding him to take the dragon's teeth and sow them in the earth. Scarce had he done so when the clods began to move and the points of spears to appear above the surface. Next, helmets with their nodding plumes came up; next, the shoulders and breasts and limbs of men with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors. Cadmus prepared to encounter a new enemy, but one of them said to him, "Meddle not with our civil war." With that he who had spoken smote one of his earthborn brothers with a sword, and he himself fell pierced with an arrow from another. The latter fell victim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole crowd dealt with each other till all but five fell slain. These five joined with Cadmus in building his city, to which they gave the name appointed.

As penance for the destruction of this sacred serpent, Cadmus served Mars for a period of eight years. After he had been absolved of his impiety, Minerva set him over the realm of Thebes, and Jove gave him to wife Harmonia, the daughter of Venus and Mars. The gods left Olympus to honor the occasion with their presence; and Vulcan presented the bride with a necklace of surpassing brilliancy, his own workmanship. Of this marriage were born four daughters, Semele, Ino, Autonoë, and Agave, and one son, Polydorus. But in spite of the atonement made by Cadmus, a fatality hung over the family. The very necklace of Vulcan seemed to catch the spirit of ill luck and convey a baleful influence to such as wore it. Semele, Ino, Actæon the son of Autonoë, and Pentheus the son of Agave, all perished by violence.

Cadmus and Harmonia quitted Thebes, grown odious to them, and emigrated to the country of the Enchelians, who received them with honor and made Cadmus their king. But the misfortunes of their children still weighing on their minds, Cadmus one day exclaimed, "If a serpent's life is so dear to the gods, I would I were myself a serpent." No sooner had he uttered the words than he began to change his form. Harmonia, beholding it, prayed the gods to let her share his fate. Both became serpents. It is said that, mindful of their origin, they neither avoid the presence of man nor do they injure any one. [86]

From the painting by Velasquez]

=71. = The stories of Vulcan are few, although incidents illustrating his character are sufficiently numerous. According to an account already given, Vulcan, because of his lameness, was cast out of Heaven by his mother Juno. The sea-goddesses Eurynome and Thetis took him mercifully to themselves, and for nine years cared for him, while he plied his trade and gained proficiency in it. In order to revenge himself on the mother who had so despitefully used him, he fashioned in the depths of the sea a throne of cunning device, which he sent to his mother. She, gladly accepting the glorious gift, sat down on it, to find out that straightway all manner of invisible chains and fetters wound and clasped themselves about her so that she could not rise. The assistance of the gods was of no avail to release her.

Then Mars sought to bring Vulcan to Heaven by force that he might undo his trickery; but before the flames of the fire-god, the impetuous warrior speedily retreated. One god, however, the jovial Bacchus, was dear to the blacksmith. He drenched Vulcan with wine, conducted him to Olympus, and by persuasion caused him to set the queen of gods and men at liberty.

That Vulcan was not permanently hostile to Juno is shown by the services that on various occasions he rendered her. He forged the shield of her favorite Achilles; and, at her instance, he undertook a contest against the river Xanthus. Homer[87] describes the burning of elms and willow trees and tamarisks, the parching of the plains, the bubbling of the waters, that signalized the fight, and how the eels and other fish were afflicted by Vulcan till Xanthus in anguish cried for quarter.

=72. Myths of Apollo.= The myths which cluster about the name of Ph[oe]bus Apollo illustrate, first, his birth and the wanderings of his mother, Latona; secondly, his victory over darkness and winter; thirdly, his gifts to man,--youth and vigor, the sunshine of spring, and the vegetation of early summer; fourthly, his baleful influence,--the sunstroke and drought of midsummer, the miasma of autumn; fifthly, his life on earth, as friend and counselor of mankind,--healer, soothsayer, and musician, prototype of manly beauty, and lover of beautiful women.

=73. The Wanderings of Latona.= Persecuted by the jealousy of the white-armed Juno, Latona fled from land to land. At last, bearing in her arms the infant progeny of Jove, she reached Lycia, weary with her burden and parched with thirst. There the following adventure ensued. By chance the persecuted goddess espied in the bottom of the valley a pond of clear water, where the country people were at work gathering willows and osiers. She approached and kneeling on the bank would have slaked her thirst in the cool stream, but the rustics forbade her. "Why do you refuse me water?" said she. "Water is free to all. Yet I ask it of you as a favor. I have no intention of washing my limbs in it, weary though they be, but only of quenching my thirst. A draft of water would be nectar to me, and I would own myself indebted to you for life itself. Let these infants move your pity, who stretch out their little arms as if to plead for me."

But the clowns persisted in their rudeness; they added jeers, and threatened violence if she did not leave the place. They waded into the pond and stirred up the mud with their feet, so as to make the water unfit to drink. Enraged, the goddess no longer supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to Heaven exclaimed, "May they never quit that pool but pass their lives there!" And it came to pass accordingly. They still live in the water, sometimes totally submerged, then raising their heads above the surface or swimming on it; sometimes coming out on the bank, but soon leaping back again into the water. Their voices are harsh, their throats bloated, their mouths distended by constant railing; their necks have shrunk up and disappeared, and their heads are joined to their bodies. Their backs are green, their disproportioned bellies white. They dwell as frogs in the slimy pool.[88]

=74. [89] On his return, slaying with his golden arrows the Python that had infested the slopes near Delphi, he sang for the first time that song of victory which, as the Pæan, is still among all nations synonymous with jubilation, praise, and thanksgiving. In his conflict with another monster of darkness and winter, the god of the silver bow had the assistance of his sister Diana. By their unerring fiery darts they subdued the giant Tityus, who not only had obstructed the peaceful ways to the oracle of Delphi, but had ventured to insult the mother of the twin deities. They overthrew also the Aloadæ, Otus and Ephialtes, sons of Iphimedia and Neptune. These monsters, the reputed sons of Aloeus, represent, perhaps, the unregulated forces of vegetation; they were renowned for their strength, stature, and courage.

They grew at the rate of three cubits in height and one in breadth every year; and, when nine years of age, they attempted, by piling Mount Ossa on Olympus, and Mount Pelion on top, to scale the skies and dethrone the immortals. It is reported that not Apollo and Diana, but Jupiter himself with his lightning slew them. [90]

=75. = Den brennende kraften til Fjernskytteren ble ikke bare følt av mørkets monstre. Hans vennskap med de unge og livskraftige var ofte like farlig som det var kjært for dem det gjaldt. Han var for eksempel lidenskapelig glad i en ungdom ved navn Hyacinthus. Guden med sølvbuen fulgte gutten i hans leker, bar garnene når han dro på fisketur, ledet hundene når han gikk på jakt, fulgte ham på utflukter i fjellene og forsømte både lyre og piler for hans skyld. En dag lekte de med kasteringer; Apollon løftet disken høyt med styrke blandet med dyktighet og sendte den høyt og langt. Hyacinthus, ivrig etter leken og spent på å gjøre sitt kast, løp frem for å gripe gjenstanden; men den spratt tilbake fra jorden og traff ham i pannen. Han besvimte og falt. Guden, like blek som ham, løftet ham opp og prøvde all sin kunst for å stanse blødningen og holde livet tilbake, men forgjeves.

Som når man knuser stilken på en lilje i hagen og den henger med hodet og vender blomstene mot jorden, slik falt den døende guttens hode, som om det var for tungt for nakken, ned på skulderen hans. «Du dør, Hyacinth,» sa Føbus, «berøvet din ungdom av meg. Om jeg bare kunne dø for deg! Men siden det ikke kan skje, skal min lyre feire deg, min sang skal fortelle din skjebne, og du skal bli en blomst påskrevet min anger.» Mens den gyldne guden talte, sluttet blodet som hadde rent på bakken og farget gresset, å være blod; og en blomst med en farge vakrere enn tyrisk purpur vokste frem, lik liljen, bortsett fra at denne er purpur og hin er sølvhvit. » på dem. [91]

Det ble sagt at Zefyros (vestavinden), som også var glad i Hyacinthus og sjalu på at han foretrakk Apollon, blåste kasteringen ut av kurs så den traff Hyacinthus.

Mens denne ungdommen døde ved et uhell, brakte en annen av Apollons yndlinger, hans egen sønn, døden over seg selv ved overmot. Historien er som følger:

=76. Faëton=[2] var sønn av Apollon og nymfen Klymene. En dag hånte Epafos, sønn av Jupiter og Io,[92] tanken om at Faëton var sønn av en gud. Faëton klaget over fornærmelsen til sin mor Klymene. Hun sendte ham til Føbus for å spørre selv om han ikke var blitt sannferdig informert om sitt opphav. Glad reiste Faëton mot soloppgangens regioner og nådde til slutt Solens palass. Han nærmet seg sin fars nærvær, men stanset på avstand, for lyset var mer enn han kunne tåle. Føbus Apollon, kledd i purpur, satt på en trone som glitret med diamanter. Ved hans side stod Dagen, Måneden, Året, Timene og Årstidene. Omgitt av disse ledsagerne så Solen den unge mannen blende av scenens nyhet og prakt, og spurte om hensikten med hans ærend. Den unge mannen svarte: «Å, lys fra den grenseløse verden, Føbus, min far – hvis du gir meg det navnet – gi meg et bevis, jeg ber deg, så jeg kan bli kjent som din!» Han tidde.

Hans far la fra seg strålene som skinte om hodet hans, ba ham nærme seg, omfavnet ham, erkjente ham som sin sønn og sverget ved elven Styks[93] at ethvert bevis han måtte be om, skulle bli innvilget. Faëton ba straks om å få lov til å kjøre solvognen for én dag. Faren angret på sitt løfte og prøvde å fraråde gutten ved å fortelle ham om farene ved foretaket. «Ingen andre enn meg,» sa han, «kan kjøre dagens flammende vogn. Ikke engang Jupiter, hvis fryktelige høyre arm slynger tordenkilene. Den første delen av veien er bratt og slik at hestene, når de er friske om morgenen, knapt kan klatre den; den midtre er høyt oppe i himlene, hvor jeg selv knapt kan, uten frykt, se ned og skue jorden og havet utstrakt under meg. Den siste delen av veien går bratt nedover og krever den mest forsiktige kjøring. Tethys, som venter på å motta meg, skjelver ofte for meg av frykt for at jeg skal falle hodestups.

Legg til dette at himmelen hele tiden dreier rundt og bærer stjernene med seg. Kunne du holde kursen mens sfæren dreide under deg? Veien går også midt gjennom fryktelige monstre. Du må passere forbi Tyrens horn, foran Skytten og nær Løvens kjever, og der hvor Skorpionen strekker armene sine i én retning og Krabben i en annen. Heller ikke vil du finne det lett å styre de hestene, med brystene fulle av ild som de puster ut fra munn og nesebor. Vokt deg, min sønn, for at jeg ikke skal bli giver av en skjebnesvanger gave; trekk tilbake ønsket mens du ennå kan.» Han avsluttet; men den unge mannen forkastet formaningen og holdt fast ved sitt krav. Så, etter å ha motstått så lenge han kunne, førte Føbus til slutt veien til der den høye vognen stod.

Den var av gull, en gave fra Vulkan – akslingen av gull, stangen og hjulene av gull, eikene av sølv. Langs setet var rader av krysolitter og diamanter, som gjenspeilte solens glans. Mens den dristige unge mannen stirret i beundring, åpnet den tidlige Morgenrøden de purpurfargede dørene i øst og viste stien bestrødd med roser. Stjernene trakk seg tilbake, marsjert av Morgenstjernen, som til sist også trakk seg bort. Faren, da han så jorden begynne å gløde og Månen forberede seg på å trekke seg tilbake, beordret Timene til å sele på hestene. De førte ut fra de høye stallene de velnærte hestene, fulle av ambrosia, og festet tømmene. Så smurte faren ansiktet til sønnen med en kraftig salve, slik at han ble i stand til å utholde flammens glans. [94]

Straks sprang den smidige unge mannen opp i vognen, stod oppreist og grep tømmene med glede, mens han utøste takk til sin motvillige far. Men hestene merket snart at lasten de trakk var lettere enn vanlig; og som et skip uten ballast kastes hit og dit på sjøen, slik ble vognen, uten sin vanlige tyngde, slengt omkring som om den var tom. Hestene stormet av sted hodestups og forlot den befarte veien. Da ble Store og Lille Bjørn svidd av hete for første gang, og ville gjerne, om mulig, ha kastet seg i vannet; og Slangen som ligger kveilet rundt nordpolen, stiv og harmløs, ble varm, og med varmen kjente de sitt raseri våkne. Bootes, sier de, flyktet bort, skjønt tynget av plogen sin og uvant til rask bevegelse.

Da den ulykkelige Faëton så ned på jorden, som nå bredte seg ut i enorm utstrekning under ham, ble han blek, og knærne hans skalv av skrekk. Han mistet selvbeherskelsen og visste ikke om han skulle stramme tømmene eller gi dem slakk; han glemte navnene på hestene. Men da han så de monstrøse skikkelsene spredt over himmelens overflate – Skorpionen som strakte ut to store armer, halen sin og de krumme klørne over et område på to stjernetegn i dyrekretsen – da gutten så den, dryppende av gift og truende med huggtenner, sviktet motet, og tømmene falt fra hendene hans. Hestene, uten tøyler, for inn i ukjente regioner av himmelen, inn blant stjernene, og kastet vognen over veiløse steder, nå oppe i den høye himmel, nå nesten ned til jorden. Månen så med forundring sin brors vogn kjøre under sin egen. Skyene begynte å ryke.

De skogkledde fjellene brant – Athos og Tauros og Tmolos og Oite; Ida, en gang feiret for sine kilder; musenes fjell Helikon, og Haimos; Etna, med ild innvendig og utvendig, og Parnassos, med sine to topper, og Rhodope, som til slutt ble tvunget til å skille seg med sin snøkledde krone. Hennes kalde klima var ingen beskyttelse for Skytia; Kaukasos brant, og Ossa og Pindos, og, større enn begge, Olympos – Alpene høyt i luften, og Apenninene kronet med skyer.

Faëton så verden stå i brann og kjente heten uutholdelig. Da, sies det, ble folket i Etiopia svarte fordi blodet plutselig ble kalt til overflaten av heten; og den libyske ørkenen ble tørket ut til den tilstand den fortsatt har den dag i dag. Kildenes nymfer, med utslått hår, sørget over sine vann, og elvene var heller ikke trygge under sine bredder; Tanais røk, og Kaikos, Xanthos og Maiandros; babylonske Eufrat og Ganges, Tagus med sine gylne sandbanker, og Kayster, der svanene søker tilflukt. Nilen flyktet og gjemte hodet i ørkenen, og der forblir den fortsatt skjult. Der den en gang tømte vannet sitt gjennom syv munninger i sjøen, var det bare syv tørre kanaler igjen. Jorden sprakk opp, og gjennom sprekkene brøt lyset inn i Tartaros og skremte skyggenes konge og hans dronning. Havet krympet. Selv Nerevs og hans hustru Doris med nereidene, døtrene deres, søkte de dypeste huler for tilflukt.

Tre ganger prøvde Neptun å løfte hodet over overflaten, og tre ganger ble han drevet tilbake av heten. Jorden, omgitt av vann som hun var, men med hode og skuldre bare, skygget ansiktet med hånden, så opp mot himmelen, og med hes stemme bønnfalt hun Jupiter om, hvis det var hans vilje at hun skulle gå under i ild, å gjøre ende på hennes pine straks med sine tordenkiler, eller ellers tenke på sin egen Himmel, hvordan begge polene røk som bar palasset hans, og at alt måtte falle om de ble ødelagt.

Jorden, overveldet av hete og tørst, kunne ikke si mer. Da tordnet Jupiter, idet han kalte gudene til vitne på at alt var tapt med mindre et raskt botemiddel ble anvendt, svingte en lynstråle i sin høyre hånd, slynget den mot vognkjøreren, og traff ham i samme øyeblikk fra setet og fra tilværelsen. Faëton, med håret i brann, falt hodestups, som en stjerneskudd som merker himmelen med sin glans når det faller, og Eridanos, den store elven, mottok ham og kjølte hans brennende legeme. Hans søstre, heliadene, mens de jamret over hans skjebne, ble forvandlet til popler ved elvebredden; og deres tårer, som fortsatte å flyte, ble til rav idet de dryppet i strømmen. De italienske naiadene reiste en gravhaug for ham og risset inn disse ord på steinen:

Fører av Føbus' vogn, Faëton, rammet av Jupiters lyn, hviler under denne stein. Han kunne ikke styre sin fars ildvogn, men det var likevel stort å strebe så edelt.[95]

=77. Pesten sendt over grekerne før Troja.= Det var imidlertid ikke bare ved uhell, eller ved ubetenksomme handlinger fra dem han elsket, at Apollons gaver av lys og varme ble vendt til ulykker. Dødelige som fornærmet ham ble felt av det grusomme solstikket, av piler av miasmatisk gift, av mangfoldige sykdommer og død.

Da akaiernes hær lå leiret foran Troja, nektet kongenes konge, Atreiden, urettferdig å gi sin fange, den fagre kinnede Kryseis, tilbake til hennes far Kryses, presten for den fjernskytende Apollon. Da gikk den gamle Kryses for seg selv og ba høyt: «Hør meg, gud med sølvbuen,... la danaene betale med dine piler for mine tårer!»

Så talte han i bønn; og Føbus Apollon hørte ham, og steg ned fra Olympos' tinder, vred i hjertet, bærende på sine skuldre sin bue og dekkede kogger. Og pilene klirret på hans skuldre i hans vrede, idet guden beveget seg; og han steg ned som natten. Så satte han seg fjernt fra skipene, og lot en pil fly; og det hørtes en fryktelig klirring av sølvbuen. Først angrep han muldyrene og de raske hundene, men deretter, idet han rettet sin gjennomtrengende pil mot mennene, rammet han; og likbålene brente stadig i mengder. Ikke før Agamemnon hadde sendt sin inntagende fange tilbake til hennes far, fjernet Apollon den avskyelige pesten fra danaene.[96]

=78. Niobes straff= er et annet eksempel på Apollons og også hans søster Dianas raske og forferdelige hevn. Denne Niobe var datter av en viss Tantalos, konge av Frygia, som var blitt mottatt ved gudenes bord av sin far Jupiter. Men det var et drag av utakknemlighet og innbilskhet i både far og datter. Faren forrådte ikke bare gudenes hemmeligheter, men for å latterliggjøre deres antatte allvitenhet forsøkte han ved et gjestebud å lure dem til å spise det stekte kjøttet av sin egen sønn Pelops. Gudene ble ikke lurt. Pelops ble gjenopplivet – Tantalos sendt til Tartaros. Datteren Niobe, selv om hun skyldte sitt lykkelige ekteskap med Jupiters sønn Amfion, og sine syv kraftige sønner og syv blomstrende døtre, til gudenes og særlig Latonas gunst, skrøt av sin fødsel, sitt ekteskap og sitt avkom, brisket seg av sin overlegenhet over Latona, og ved én anledning hånte den årlige feiringen til ære for gudinnen og hennes to barn.

Idet hun mønstret Thebens folk med hovmodig blikk, sa hun: «For en dårskap å foretrekke vesener dere aldri har sett, fremfor dem som står foran øynene deres! Vil dere foretrekke fremfor meg denne Latona, Titanens datter, med sine to barn? Jeg har syv ganger så mange. Om jeg skulle miste noen av mine barn, ville jeg neppe være like fattig som Latona med bare sine to. Ta av laurbærene fra pannene deres – slutt med denne dyrkelsen!» Folket forlot de hellige handlingene ufullførte.

Gudinnen var harm. På Kynthos' fjelltopp talte hun slik til sin sønn og datter: «Mine barn, jeg som har vært så stolt av dere begge og har vært vant til å anse meg selv som den fremste av gudinnene, nest etter Juno alene, begynner nå å tvile på om jeg virkelig er en gudinne. Jeg vil bli fullstendig fratatt min dyrkelse med mindre dere beskytter meg.» Hun holdt på i denne tonen, men Apollon avbrøt henne. «Si ikke mer,» sa han; «ord forsinker bare straffen.» Det samme sa Diana. Skytende gjennom luften, innhyllet i skyer, landet de på byens tårn. Utenfor portene bredte det seg en åpen slette hvor byens ungdom drev med sine krigerske leker. Niobes sønner var der sammen med de andre – noen ridende på fyrige hester, rikt utsmykket, noen kjørende praktfulle stridsvogner. Ismenos, den førstefødte, ble idet han styrte sine skummende hester, truffet av en pil ovenfra. » ropte han – slapp tømmene og falt livløs.

En annen, som hørte buelyden, gav tøylene til hestene og prøvde å flykte. Den uunngåelige pilen innhentet ham mens han flyktet. To andre, yngre, stod og brytet bryst mot bryst: én pil gjennomboret dem begge. Alfenor, en eldre bror, skyndte seg til stedet for å gi hjelp, men falt i broderlig plikt. Bare én var igjen, Ilioneus. » ropte han, idet han henvendte seg til dem alle, uvitende om at alle ikke trengte hans bønn; og Apollon ville ha spart ham, men pilen hadde allerede forlatt strengen, og det var for sent.

Da Niobe ble klar over hva som hadde hendt, var hun harm over at gudene hadde våget, og forundret over at de hadde vært i stand til det. Hennes ektemann Amfion, overveldet av slaget, tok sitt eget liv. Men moren knelte over de livløse kroppene og kysset dem. Idet hun løftet sine bleke armer mot himmelen, sa hun: «Grusomme Latona, mett ditt harde hjerte mens jeg følger mine syv sønner til graven. Men hvor er din triumf? Selv om jeg er berøvet, er jeg fremdeles rikere enn deg, min overvinner.» Knapt hadde hun talt, da buen lød og slo skrekk i alle hjerter unntatt Niobes eget. Hun var modig av overdreven sorg. Døtrene hennes stod i sørgeklær over likbårene til sine døde brødre. Den ene etter den andre falt, truffet av piler, ved siden av likene de jamret over. Bare én var igjen, som moren holdt tett omsluttet i armene og dekket, så å si, med hele kroppen. «Spar meg én, og det den yngste! » ropte hun; og mens hun talte, falt den ene død.

Forlatt satt hun blant sønner, døtre, ektemann, alle døde, og syntes stivnet av sorg. Vinden rørte ikke håret hennes, ingen farge var på kinnet, øynene stirret stivt og ubevegelig, det var intet livstegn hos henne. Selve tungen klistret seg til ganen, og årene hennes sluttet å bringe livets strøm. Nakken bøyde seg ikke, armene gjorde ingen bevegelse, foten intet skritt. Hun ble forvandlet til sten, innvendig og utvendig. [97]

Blant ni døtre drept av Artemis stod Niobe; hun løftet hodet over de fagre skikkelser som hadde brakt ulykken hvorfra alle ni falt, løftet det, og stod oppreist, og talte slik til gudinnen tronende i det høye: «Du hørte, Artemis, min daglige bønn om at du ville lede disse barna på dydens vei gjennom ungdommens forviklede villnis, og du ledet dem alltid: var det rettferdig å ramme dem for en skjønnhet som din egen? Fortjente de døden fordi din ynde kom til syne i hver beskjeden bevegelse? Det var din gave, den rikeste gave ungdom mottar fra himmelen. Sant nok, jeg sa dristig at de kunne måle seg selv med deg i jomfruelig renhet: kan ikke en mor i sin stolthet gjenta hva hver dødelig sa? Én bønn gjenstår enda for meg å frembære. Ditt kogger rommer mer enn ni piler: spenn din bue; sikt her! Jeg ser, jeg ser det glimre gjennom en sky. Artemis, du er endelig nådig: mine barn vil ikke høre den skjebnesvangre strengen.»[98]

=79. = Hvordan folket i Argos falt i unåde hos Apollon, fortelles i historien om Linos, en vakker sønn av Apollon og Psamathe. I frykt for sin far, kongen, satte Psamathe barnet ut på fjellet, hvor han, oppfostret av gjetere blant lammene, i sin spede ungdom ble revet i stykker av hunder. Imens ble Psamathe selv drevet fra sin fars hjem; derfor sendte Apollon et monster mot argivernes land, som en tid drepte barna, men til slutt ble felt av en edel ungdom ved navn Korøbos. For å formilde den vrede guddommen ble et helligdom reist midtveis mellom Argos og Delfi; og hvert år ble Linos og hans mor begrått i vemodige sanger av mødrene og barna i Argos, særlig av dem som hadde mistet sine egne kjære ved døden.

Skjebnen til Linos, lik den til Hyacinthus og andre som bukker under i livets vår under en strålende guddoms overdrevne kjærlighet,[99] symboliserer den plutselige visning av urter og blomster og av dyreliv – kalvene og lammene, også små barn – under sommerens skarpe piler. Selve navnet Linos er tatt fra refrenget ai-linon, eller «ve meg», i klagesangen som i gamle dager ble sunget av landsens folk når de således var plaget av den usunne heten, på grunn av hvilken avlingene slår feil og hundene blir gale og river smålammene i stykker. I Iliaden finnes et vakkert bilde som viser oss at sangen ikke var fullstendig forbeholdt hundedagene. Det er av en vingård som bugner rikelig av klaser:

Og det var en sti gjennom den som vinhøsterne kunne gå. Og ungmøer og ungdommer i barnslig glede bar den søte frukten i flettede kurver. Og midt iblant dem laget en gutt behagelig musikk på en klarttonende lyre, og sang dertil en søt Linos-sang med spinkel røst; mens resten med føtter samlet holdt takten til musikken og sangen.[100]

=80. Æskulap.= Den thessaliske prinsessen Koronis (eller den messenske, Arsinoë) fødte Apollon et barn som ble kalt Æskulap. Ved morens død ble spedbarnet betrodd til Chiron, den mest berømte av kentaurene, selv undervist av Apollon og Diana i jakt, medisin, musikk og spådomskunst. Da vismannen vendte hjem med spedbarnet, kom datteren Okyrrhoë ut for å møte ham, og ved synet av barnet brøt hun ut i en profetisk strøm, som forutsa den ære han skulle oppnå. Æskulap ble, da han vokste opp, en berømt lege; i ett tilfelle lyktes han endog i å oppvekke de døde til live. Pluto mislikte dette, og på hans anmodning slo Jupiter den dristige legen med lynet og drepte ham, men mottok ham etter døden i gudenes tall.[101]

=81. Apollon i eksil.= Apollon, harm over ødeleggelsen av denne sønnen, lot sin hevn gå ut over de uskyldige arbeiderne som hadde laget tordenkilen. Disse var kyklopene, som hadde sitt verksted under Etna-fjellet, hvorfra røyken og flammene fra deres esser stadig kommer ut. Apollon skjøt sine piler mot kyklopene, en gjerning som vakte Jupiters vrede så sterkt at han dømte ham til å tjene en dødelig i ett år. Følgelig gikk Apollon i tjeneste hos Admetos, konge av Thessalia, og gjette buskapen hans på de grønne breddene av elven Amfrysos. Hvordan guden levde blant mennesker, og hva de syntes om ham, fortelles godt i de følgende vers.

=82. Lowells Hyrden til kong Admetos.=

Det kom en yngling til jorden, for noen tusen år siden, hvis slanke hender var ingenting verdt, hverken til å pløye, eller høste, eller så.

På et tomt skilpaddeskall spente han noen strenger, og frembrakte musikk som fikk menns bryst til å svulme fryktløst, eller fylte øynene med dugg.

Da syntes kong Admetos, en som hadde ren smak av guddommelig rett, at hans sang ikke var for ille til å høre på mellom vinbegrene:

Og så, vel fornøyd med å bli dysset inn i en søt halvsøvn, strøk han sitt kongelige skjegg tre ganger, og gjorde ham til visekonge over sine sauer.

Hans ord var enkle ord nok, og dog brukte han dem slik, at det som i andres munner var grovt, i hans syntes musikalsk og lavt.

Folk kalte ham bare en udugelig yngling, som de ikke så noe godt i; og dog, uforvarende, i sannhet, gjorde de hans skjødesløse ord til lov.

De visste ikke hvordan han lærte i det hele tatt, for dovent, time etter time, satt han og så de døde bladene falle, eller grunnet på en alminnelig blomst.

Det syntes som om tingenes ynde lærte ham all deres bruk, for i bare ugress, og stener, og kilder fant han en rik legende kraft.

Folk innrømmet at hans tale var vis, men når de fikk et glimt av hans slanke ynde og kvinnelige øyne, lo de og kalte ham dugnadsløs.

Men etter at han var død og borte og til og med minnet om ham dimt, syntes jorden søtere å leve på, mer full av kjærlighet, på grunn av ham.

Og dag for dag ble mer hellig hvert sted han hadde trådt, til senere poeter bare kjente sin førstefødte bror som en gud.

=83. =[102] Admetos var en av frierne til Alkestis, datter av Pelias, som lovet henne til den som kom for å hente henne i en vogn trukket av løver og villsvin. Denne oppgaven utførte Admetos med hjelp av sin guddommelige gjeter, og ble lykkelig i ekteskapet med Alkestis. Men da Admetos ble syk og var nær døden, overtalte Apollon skjebnegudinnene til å spare ham på betingelse av at noen samtykket i å dø i hans sted. Admetos tenkte lite på løsesummen i sin glede over utsettelsen, og tenkte kanskje på kjærlighetserklæringene han ofte hadde hørt fra sine hoffolk og underordnede, og innbilte seg at det ville være lett å finne en stedfortreder. Men slik var det ikke.

Tapre krigere, som gjerne ville ha våget livet for sin fyrste, vek tilbake for tanken om å dø for ham på sykesengen; og gamle tjenere som hadde nytt godt av hans gavmildhet og hans hus fra barndommen av, var ikke villige til å gi den skrinne rest av sine dager for å vise sin takknemlighet. Folk spurte: «Hvorfor gjør ikke en av foreldrene hans det? De kan i naturens gang ikke leve mye lenger, og hvem kan som de føle kallet til å redde det liv de har gitt fra en utidig død?» Men foreldrene, hvor bedrøvede de enn var ved tanken på å miste ham, vek tilbake fra kallet. Da tilbød Alkestis seg, med edel selvoppofrelse, som stedfortreder. Admetos, så glad han enn var i livet, ville ikke ha gått med på å motta det for en slik pris; men det var ingen utvei. Betingelsen skjebnegudinnene hadde stilt var oppfylt, og beslutningen ugjenkallelig. Da Admetos kom til live igjen, ble Alkestis syk, sank raskt sammen og døde.

Akkurat da likfølget hadde forlatt palasset, kom Herkules, sønn av Jupiter og Alkmene. Han, som ingen oppgave var for vanskelig for, besluttet å forsøke å redde henne. Han sa:

[103] Jeg skal finne ham, sikkert, drikkende ved graven, av offeret: og hvis jeg ligger i bakhold, og springer ut av mitt skjul, og griper – omringer ham til den ene hånden møter den andre – så finnes det ingen som skal trekke ham ut av meg, ribbe-maltraktert, før han slipper kvinnen! Men om jeg går glipp av byttet – si, Døden kommer ikke til det størknede blodet – nå, da går jeg ned, til den solskinnsløse boligen til Kore[104] og kongen der – krever, overbevist om at jeg skal bringe Alkestis tilbake, slik at jeg kan legge henne i hendene på ham, min vert, som huset meg, aldri jaget meg bort: enda rammet av bitende sorg skjulte han slaget, som et edelt hjerte og aktet meg! Hvem av thessalierne elsker, mer enn denne mannen, den fremmede? Hvem som nå bor i Hellas? Derfor skal han ikke si at mannen var ussel som han var vennlig mot – et innfødt edelt hjerte!»

Så, ett blikk oppover, som om Zevs kunne le bifall til sin menneskelige avkom – én tilkalling av hele den storslåtte rammen, hver sene til sin tjeneste – opp grep han, og kastet over skulderen løveskjegget, lot klubben fare – for hadde han ikke de hendene? Og skred så av gårde, på den rette veien som fører til Larissa og forstadsgraven. Glede være med deg, Hjelper av vår verden! Jeg tror dette er det ekte tegn og segl på Guddom, at den alltid vokser seg glad, og gladere, inntil gleden blomstrer, bryter ut i et raseri for å lide for menneskeheten, og begynner på ny ved sorg: faller som frø etter blomstringen, det ytterste av alt. Si, forakter frøet jorden og søker solen? Sannelig, det har intet annet mål og hensikt enn å falle, enda en gang dø i jorden, smake kulde og mørke og glemsel der: og derfra stige opp, treaktig vokse gjennom smerte til glede, mer glede og mest glede – gjøre mennesket godt igjen.

Så til kampen skred Herakles av sted.

Lenge ventet og sørget thessalierne. Hva Herakles angikk, antok de ham nok død. … Jo, det var ham som nærmet seg! Inn skred han, og stilte seg foran Admetos – vendt nå av fortvilelse til en slik stillhet, at han hverken løftet ansiktet eller snakket, denne gang, mens vennen betraktet ham stødig. Den vennen så røff ut av kamp: hadde han spennet verste beist mot bryst som noen gang er blitt kvalt? – hans svære skikkelse dirrende med hver muskel som sank tilbake i den søvnige glattheten den nettopp hadde sprunget fra. Under den store beskyttelsen av den ene armen, lente det seg noe innhyllet, levende og kvinneaktig, støttet av hjerteslagene under løvekappen. Da han var ferdig med sin granskning, syntes det, begynte hjertets hevninger å avta, den hjelpende pusten vendte tilbake, og til sist smilte det ut, hele Herakles var tilbake igjen, idet ordene fulgte den hilsende hånden.

«Admetos,» sa han, «ta og behold denne kvinnen, min fange, til jeg kommer tilbake denne veien.» Men Admetos ville ikke slippe noen kvinne inn i hallen som Alkestis hadde forlatt tom. Da ropte Herakles: «Grip henne. Se nå, min venn, om hun ikke ligner litt på den hustruen du har mistet.»

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

Ah, but the tears come, find the words at fault! There is no telling how the hero twitched The veil off; and there stood, with such fixed eyes And such slow smile, Alkestis' silent self! It was the crowning grace of that great heart, To keep back joy: procrastinate the truth Until the wife, who had made proof and found The husband wanting, might essay once more, Hear, see, and feel him renovated now-- Able to do now all herself had done, Risen to the height of her: so, hand in hand, The two might go together, live and die.

Beside, when he found speech, you guess the speech. He could not think he saw his wife again: It was some mocking God that used the bliss To make him mad! Till Herakles must help: Assure him that no specter mocked at all; He was embracing whom he buried once, Still,--did he touch, might he address the true, True eye, true body of the true live wife?... And Herakles said little, but enough-- How he engaged in combat with that king O' the dæmons: how the field of contest lay By the tomb's self: how he sprang from ambuscade, Captured Death, caught him in that pair of hands.

But all the time, Alkestis moved not once Out of the set gaze and the silent smile; And a cold fear ran through Admetos' frame: "Why does she stand and front me, silent thus?" Herakles solemnly replied, "Not yet Is it allowable thou hear the things She has to tell thee; let evanish quite That consecration to the lower Gods, And on our upper world the third day rise! Lead her in, meanwhile; good and true thou art, Good, true, remain thou! Practice piety To stranger-guests the old way! So, farewell! Since forth I fare, fulfill my urgent task Set by the king, the son of Sthenelos."[105]

=84. Apollo, the Musician.= Not only in Arcadia, Laconia, and Thessaly did Apollo care as a herdsman for the cattle of a mortal master; in Mount Ida, too, by the order of Jupiter he herded for a year the "shambling, crook-horned kine" of King Laomedon, and, playing on the lyre, aided Neptune to build the walls of Troy, just as Amphion, in his turn, had aided in the building of Thebes. Apollo's life as herdsman was spent in establishing wise laws and customs, in musical contests on the flute and the lyre, or in passages of love with nymphs and maidens of mortal mold.

=85. =[106] It is said that on a certain occasion Pan had the temerity to compare his music with that of Apollo and to challenge the god of the lyre to a trial of skill. The challenge was accepted, and Tmolus, the mountain-god, was chosen umpire. The senior took his seat and cleared away the trees from his ears to listen. At a given signal Pan blew on his pipes, and with his rustic melody gave great satisfaction to himself and his faithful follower Midas, who happened to be present. Then Tmolus turned his head toward the sun-god, and all his trees turned with him. Apollo rose, his brow wreathed with Parnassian laurel, while his robe of Tyrian purple swept the ground. In his left hand he held the lyre and with his right hand struck the strings. Tmolus at once awarded the victory to the lyric god, and all but Midas acquiesced in the judgment. He dissented and questioned the justice of the award.

Apollo promptly transformed his depraved pair of ears into those of an ass.

King Midas tried to hide his misfortune under an ample turban. But his hair-dresser found it too much for his discretion to keep such a secret; he dug a hole in the ground and, stooping down, whispered the story, and covered it up. But a thick bed of reeds springing up in the meadow began whispering the story, and has continued to do so from that day to this, every time a breeze passes over the place.

=86. Shelley's Hymn of Pan.= In the following verses Pan taunts Apollo as he might have done when Midas was sitting contentedly by:

From the forests and highlands We come, we come; From the river-girt islands, Where loud waves are dumb, Listening to my sweet pipings. The wind in the reeds and the rushes, The bees on the bells of thyme, The birds on the myrtle bushes, The cicale above in the lime, And the lizards below in the grass, Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was Listening to my sweet pipings.

Liquid Peneüs was flowing, And all dark Tempe lay, In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing The light of the dying day, Speeded by my sweet pipings. The Sileni, and Sylvans, and Fauns, And the Nymphs of the woods and waves, To the edge of the moist river-lawns, And the brink of the dewy caves, And all that did then attend and follow Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo, With envy of my sweet pipings.

I sang of the dancing stars, I sang of the dædal Earth, And of Heaven--and the giant wars, And Love, and Death, and Birth,-- And then I changed my pipings,-- Singing how down the vale of Menalus I pursued a maiden, and clasp'd a reed: Gods and men, we are all deluded thus! It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed: All wept, as I think both ye now would, If envy or age had not frozen your blood, At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.

=87. Marsyas= also was unfortunate enough to underrate Apollo's musical ability. It seems that the flute, an invention of Minerva's, had been thrown away by that goddess because Cupid laughed at the grimaces which she made while playing it. Marsyas found the instrument, blew on it, and elicited such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to challenge Apollo himself to a musical contest. The god, of course, triumphed, and he punished Marsyas by flaying him alive.

=88. The Loves of Apollo.= Beside Psamathe of Argos, Coronis of Thessaly, and the nymph Clymene, who have been already mentioned, Apollo loved the muse Calliope, who bore him Orpheus,[107] and the nymph Cyrene, whose son was Aristæus.[108] Of his relations with other maidens the following myths exist.

=89. Daphne.=[109] The lord of the silver bow was not always prosperous in his wooing. His first love, which, by the way, owed its origin to the malice of Cupid, was specially unfortunate. It appears that Apollo, seeing the boy playing with his bow and arrows, had tauntingly advised him to leave warlike weapons for hands worthy of them and content himself with the torch of love. Whereupon the son of Venus had rejoined, "Thine arrows may strike all things else, Apollo, but mine shall strike thee."

So saying, he took his stand on a rock of Parnassus, and drew from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship,--one to excite love, the other to repel it. The former was of gold and sharp pointed, the latter blunt and tipped with lead. With the leaden shaft he struck the nymph Daphne, the daughter of the river-god Peneüs, and with the golden one Apollo, through the heart. Forthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden, but she, more than ever, abhorred the thought of loving. Her delight was in woodland sports and in the spoils of the chase. Spurning all lovers, she prayed her father that she might remain always unmarried, like Diana. He consented, but, at the same time, warned her that her beauty would defeat her purpose. It was the face of this huntress maiden that Apollo saw.

He saw the charming disorder of her hair, and would have arranged it; he saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and was not satisfied with only seeing them. He longed for Daphne. He followed her; she fled swifter than the wind, nor delayed a moment at his entreaties. "Stay," said he, "daughter of Peneüs; I am not a foe. It is for love I pursue thee. I am no clown, no rude peasant. Jupiter is my father. I am lord of Delphi and Tenedos. I know all things, present and future. I am the god of song and the lyre. an arrow more fatal than mine has pierced my heart! I am the god of medicine and know the virtues of all healing plants. Alas! I suffer a malady that no balm can cure."

The nymph continues her flight and leaves his plea half-uttered. But even as she flies she charms him. The wind catches her garments, and her unbound hair streams loose behind her. The god, sped by Cupid, gains on her in the race. His panting breath blows on her hair. open the earth to inclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger!" Scarcely had she spoken when a stiffness seized her limbs; and little by little she took on the appearance of a laurel tree. Apollo embraced the branches and lavished kisses on the wood. The branches shrank from his lips. "Since thou canst not be my wife," said he, "thou shalt assuredly be my tree. I will wear thee for my crown. I will decorate with thee my harp and my quiver. When the Roman conquerors conduct the triumphal pomp to the Capitol, thou shalt be woven into wreaths for their brows. And, as eternal youth is mine, thou also shalt be always green, and thy leaf know no decay."

The laurel tree bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment.

The delicious humor of Lowell's extravaganza on the story amply justifies the following citation:

Ph[oe]bus, sitting one day in a laurel tree's shade, Was reminded of Daphne, of whom it was made, For the god being one day too warm in his wooing, She took to the tree to escape his pursuing; Be the cause what it might, from his offers she shrunk, And, Ginevra-like, shut herself up in a trunk; And, though 't was a step into which he had driven her, He somehow or other had never forgiven her; Her memory he nursed as a kind of a tonic, Something bitter to chew when he'd play the Byronic, And I cannot count the obstinate nymphs that he brought over By a strange kind of smile he put on when he thought of her. "My case is like Dido's," he sometimes remarked; "When I last saw my love, she was fairly embarked In a laurel, as she thought--but (ah, how Fate mocks!) She has found it by this time a very bad box; Let hunters from me take this saw when they need it,-- You're not always sure of your game when you've treed it.

Just conceive such a change taking place in one's mistress! --who can flatter or kiss trees? And, for mercy's sake, how could one keep up a dialogue With a dull wooden thing that will live and will die a log,-- Not to say that the thought would forever intrude That you've less chance to win her the more she is wood? it went to my heart, and the memory still grieves, To see those loved graces all taking their leaves; Those charms beyond speech, so enchanting but now, As they left me forever, each making its bough! "[110]

=90. Marpessa.= Another maiden who declined Apollo's love was Marpessa.[1] She is called by Homer "the fair-ankled daughter of Evenus."

The god Apollo from the heaven of heavens Her mortal sweetness through the air allured;[2] but Idas, "that was strongest of men that were then on earth,"[111] carried her off, assisted by Poseidon who gave him a winged chariot. Her father Evenus vainly tried to catch up with the fleeing lovers; but Apollo found them in Messene, and wrested the maiden away. Then Jupiter, while the lovers were engaged in combat, separated them, saying, "Let her decide."

They three together met; on the one side, Fresh from diffusing light on all the world Apollo; on the other without sleep Idas, and in the midst Marpessa stood. Just as a flower after drenching rain, So from the falling of felicity Her human beauty glowed, and it was new; The bee too near her bosom drowsed and dropped.[2]

According to the story as romantically told by the English poet Phillips, first spoke Apollo. The god told her that he dreaded that one so fair should ever taste of sorrow and death; how, if she lived with him, she should bide

In mere felicity above the world In peace alive and moving, where to stir Is ecstasy, and thrilling is repose,[112] immortal, scattering joy without intermission, lighting the world, bringing bliss to struggling men and sorrowing women, dispelling shadows and shadowy fear.

Then Idas, humbly,--

"After such argument what can I plead? Or what pale promise make? Yet since it is In women to pity rather than to aspire, A little will I speak."

And he tells her simply that he loves her,--loves her not only for her beauty, but

"Because Infinity on thee broods; And thou art full of whispers and of shadows;--" and because her voice is music, her face mystery beyond his power to comprehend;

"O beauty lone and like a candle clear In this dark country of the world! Thou art My woe, my early light, my music dying."

And Marpessa?--

As he was speaking, she with lips apart Breathed, and with dimmer eyes leaned through the air As one in dream, and now his human hand Took in her own; and to Apollo spoke,-- saying that she knew how sweet it might be forever with a god to aid suffering men and women and "gild the face that from its dead looks up"; but still she feared immortality, for, though dying not, she must grow old, and her god lover would tire of her when once her youth was faded. And as for that "existence without tears for evermore" which he promised,--

"Yet I being human, human sorrow miss. The half of music, I have heard men say, Is to have grieved."

To sorrow she was born. It is out of sadness that men have made this world beautiful. If she chooses Idas, then they two will prosper together, grow old together, and last descend into the "natural ground," and "leave behind a wholesome memory on the earth."

When she had spoken, Idas with one cry Held her, and there was silence; while the god In anger disappeared. Then slowly they, He looking downward, and she gazing up, Into the evening green wandered away.

=91. Clytie.=[113] In the story of Clytie the conditions are reversed. She was a water-nymph and in love with Apollo, who made her no return. So she pined away, sitting all day long on the cold ground with her unbound tresses streaming over her shoulders. Nine days she sat, and tasted neither food nor drink,--her own tears and the chilly dew her only sustenance. She gazed on the sun when he rose; and as he passed through his daily course to his setting, she saw no other object,--her eyes fixed constantly on him. At last, they say, her limbs took root in the ground and her face became a flower, turning on its stem to follow the journeying sun.

In the following lines, Thomas Moore uses the flower as an emblem of constancy:

The heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close; As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets The same look that she turned when he rose.

=92. = In company with her radiant brother, we find Diana subduing Tityus and the Python and assisting in the punishment of Niobe. The speedy transformation of Daphne has been attributed to this goddess, the champion of maidenhood. According to some, it was she, too, that changed Callisto into a bear, when for love of Jupiter that nymph deserted the huntress-band. Numerous are the myths that celebrate the severity of the goddess of the unerring bow toward those who offended her. [115] Similar attributes of the goddess are exemplified in the myths of Arethusa, Actæon, and Orion. It is only when she is identified with Selene, the peaceful moonlight, that we perceive a softer side of character, such as that displayed in her relations with Endymion.

=93. =[116] A woodland nymph of Elis was this Arethusa; she delighted not in her comeliness, but in the joys of the chase. One day, returning from the wood heated with exercise, she descended to a stream silently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on the bottom. She laid aside her garments; but while she sported in the water, she heard an indistinct murmur rising as out of the depths of the stream. She made haste to reach the nearest bank. A voice followed her, "Why flyest thou, Arethusa? Alpheüs am I, the god of this stream." The nymph ran, the god pursued. Arethusa, at last exhausted, cried for help to Diana, who, hearing, wrapped her votary in a thick cloud. Perplexed, the river-god still sought the trembling maiden. But a cold sweat came over her. In less time than it takes to tell, she had become a fountain. Alpheüs attempted then to mingle his stream with hers.

But the Cynthian queen cleft the ground, and Arethusa, still endeavoring to escape, plunged into the abyss and, passing through the bowels of the earth, came out in Sicily, still followed by the passionate river-god.

=94. Shelley's Arethusa.= In the following version of the pursuit, Arethusa was already a river when Alpheüs espied her.

Arethusa arose From her couch of snows In the Acroceraunian mountains,-- From cloud and from crag, With many a jag, Shepherding her bright fountains, She leapt down the rocks, With her rainbow locks Streaming among the streams;-- Her steps paved with green The downward ravine Which slopes to the western gleams: And gliding and springing She went, ever singing, In murmurs as soft as sleep; The Earth seemed to love her, And Heaven smiled above her, As she lingered towards the deep. Then Alpheüs bold On his glacier cold, With his trident the mountain strook And opened a chasm In the rocks;--with the spasm All Erymanthus shook. And the black south wind It concealed behind The urns of the silent snow, And earthquake and thunder Did rend in sunder The bars of the springs below; The beard and the hair Of the River-god were Seen through the torrent's sweep, As he followed the light Of the fleet nymph's flight To the brink of the Dorian deep.

"Oh, save me! Oh, guide me! And bid the deep hide me, For he grasps me now by the hair!" The loud Ocean heard, To its blue depth stirred, And divided at her prayer; And under the water The Earth's white daughter Fled like a sunny beam; Behind her descended Her billows unblended With the brackish Dorian stream:-- Like a gloomy stain On the emerald main, Alpheüs rushed behind,-- As an eagle pursuing A dove to its ruin Down the streams of the cloudy wind.

Under the bowers Where the Ocean Powers Sit on their pearlèd thrones, Through the coral woods Of the weltering floods, Over heaps of unvalued stones; Through the dim beams Which amid the streams Weave a network of colored light; And under the caves, Where the shadowy waves Are as green as the forest's night: Outspeeding the shark, And the swordfish dark, Under the ocean foam, And up through the rifts Of the mountain clifts They past to their Dorian home.

And now from their fountains In Enna's mountains, Down one vale where the morning basks, Like friends once parted Grown single-hearted, They ply their watery tasks. At sunrise they leap From their cradles steep In the cave of the shelving hill; At noontide they flow Through the woods below And the meadows of Asphodel: And at night they sleep In the rocking deep Beneath the Ortygian shore;-- Like spirits that lie In the azure sky When they love but live no more.

=95. The Fate of Actæon.=[117] Diana's severity toward young Actæon, grandson of Cadmus whose kindred fell under the curse of Mars, is thus narrated.

One day, having repaired to a valley inclosed by cypresses and pines, where gushed a fountain of sparkling water, the chaste Diana handed her javelin, her quiver, and her bow to one nymph, her robe to another, while a third unbound the sandals from her feet. Then Crocale, the most skillful of them, arranged her hair, and Nephele, Hyale, and the rest drew water in capacious urns. While the huntress queen was thus employed in the labors of the toilet, Actæon, the son of Autonoë and Aristæus, having quitted his companions of the chase and rambling without any especial object, came to the place, led thither by his destiny. As he presented himself at the entrance of the cave, the nymphs, seeing a man, screamed and rushed towards the goddess to hide her with their bodies. But she was taller than the rest and overtopped them all by a head.

Such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset or at dawn came over the countenance of Diana, thus taken by surprise. Surrounded as she was by her nymphs, she yet turned half away and sought with a sudden impulse for her arrows. As they were not at hand, she dashed the water into the face of the intruder, saying, "Now go and tell, if you can, that you have seen Diana unappareled." Immediately a pair of branching stag's horns grew out of the huntsman's head, his neck gained in length, his ears grew sharp-pointed, his hands became feet, his arms, his long legs, and his body were covered with a hairy spotted hide. Fear took the place of his former boldness, and the hero fled. --go home to the palace or lie hid in the woods? While he hesitated his dogs saw him. Over rocks and cliffs, through mountain gorges that seemed impracticable, he fled, and they followed. The air resounded with the bark of the dogs.

Presently one fastened on his back, another seized his shoulder; the rest of the pack came up and buried their teeth in his flesh. His friends and fellow-huntsmen cheered on the dogs, and, looking everywhere for Actæon, called on him to join the sport. At the sound of his name, he turned his head and heard them regret that he should be away. He earnestly wished he was. But Diana had no pity for him, nor was her anger appeased till the dogs had torn his life out.

=96. The Fortunes and Death of Orion.= Orion, the son of Neptune, was a giant and a mighty hunter, whose prowess and manly favor gained for him the rare good will of Diana.

It is related that he loved Merope, the daughter of [OE]nopion, king of Chios, and sought her in marriage. He cleared the island of wild beasts and brought the spoils of the chase as presents to his beloved; but as [OE]nopion constantly deferred his consent, Orion attempted to gain possession of the maiden by violence. Her father, incensed at his conduct, made Orion drunk, deprived him of his sight, and cast him out on the seashore. The blinded hero, instructed by an oracle to seek the rays of morning, followed the sound of a Cyclops' hammer till he reached Lemnos, where Vulcan, taking pity on him, gave him Cedalion, one of his men, to be his guide to the abode of the sun. Placing Cedalion on his shoulders, Orion proceeded to the east, and there meeting the sun-god, was restored to sight by his beam.[118]

After this he dwelt as a hunter with the queen of the echoing chase; and it was even hinted that she loved him. Her brother, highly displeased, often chid her, but to no purpose. One day, therefore, observing Orion as he waded through the sea with his head just above the water, Apollo pointed out the black object to his sister, and maintained that she could not hit it. The archer goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim: the waves rolled the dead body of Orion to the land. Then bewailing her fatal error with many tears, Diana placed him among the stars, where he appears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and club.

Sirius, his dog, follows him, and the Pleiads fly before him.[119] In the beginning of winter, all through the night, Orion follows the chase across the heavens; but with dawn he sinks toward the waters of his father Neptune. In the beginning of summer, he may be seen with daybreak in the eastern sky, where, beloved by Aurora, he remains gradually paling before the light of day till, finally, Diana, jealous of his happiness, draws her gentle darts and slays him.

From the painting by Vedder]

=97. The Pleiads=,[120] who still fly before Orion in the heavens, were daughters of Atlas, and nymphs of Diana's train. One day Orion saw them in B[oe]otia, became enamored of them, and gave pursuit. In their distress they prayed to the gods to change their form. Jupiter, accordingly, turned them into pigeons, and made them a constellation. Though their number was seven, only six stars are visible; for Electra, it is said, left her place that she might not behold the ruin of Troy, which had been founded by her son Dardanus. The sight had such an effect on her sisters that they blanched, and have been pale ever since. But Electra became a comet; her hair floating wildly behind her, she still inconsolably ranges the expanse of heaven. According to some, the lost Pleiad is Merope, who was vested with mortality in consequence of her marriage with the mortal Sisyphus, king of Corinth.

Tennyson's reference to the Pleiads, in "Locksley Hall," is of course familiar to all readers.

=98. Endymion.= The frequent absence of Diana from her duties in heaven is said to have awakened suspicion among the deities of Olympus, who doubted whether she actually occupied these intervals with hunting. It is easy to imagine the satisfaction with which Venus, who so often had been reproached by Diana with her undue fondness of beautiful youths, would welcome news of a corresponding weakness on the part of the cold-hearted and apparently unyielding huntress queen. And such satisfaction Venus once enjoyed, if we may trust the later classical and the modern poets who have identified Diana with Selene, the more ancient goddess of the moon.

For, one calm, clear night Selene looked down on the beautiful Endymion, who fed his flock on Mount Latmos, and saw him sleeping. The heart of the goddess was unquestionably warmed by his surpassing beauty. She came down to him; she kissed him; she watched over him while he slept. She visited him again and again. But her secret could not long be hidden from the company of Olympus. For more and more frequently she was absent from her station in the sky, and toward morning she was ever paler and more weary with her watching. When, finally, her love was discovered, Jupiter gave Endymion, who had been thus honored, a choice between death in any manner that was preferable, or perpetual youth united with perpetual sleep. Endymion chose the latter. He still sleeps in his Carian cave, and still the mistress of the moon slips from her nocturnal course to visit him. [121]

Keats, whose Endymion journeys on a mission under sea, thus describes a meeting of the goddess and her lover:

On gold sand impearled With lily shells and pebbles milky white, Poor Cynthia greeted him, and soothed her light Against his pallid face: he felt the charm To breathlessness, and suddenly a warm Of his heart's blood: 'twas very sweet; he stayed His wandering steps, and half-entrancèd laid His head on a tuft of straggling weeds, To taste the gentle moon, and freshening beads, Lashed from the crystal roof by fishes' tails. And so he kept, until the rosy veils, Mantling the east, by Aurora's peering hand Were lifted from the water's breast, and fanned Into sweet air; and sobered morning came Meekly through billows:--when like taper-flame Left sudden by a dallying breath of air, He rose in silence, and once more 'gan fare Along his fated way.[122]

=99. Myths of Venus.= Round the goddess of love cluster romances of her own tender passion, of the affairs of the winged Cupid, and of the loves of the worshipers at her shrine. Of the affection of Venus for Mars and of her relations with Anchises,[123] the father of Æneas, mention is elsewhere made. The following is the myth of Venus and Adonis.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

=100. =[124] The sweetly smiling goddess, playing one day with her boy Cupid, wounded her bosom with one of his arrows. Before the wound healed, she looked on Adonis, the son of Cinyras and Myrrha, and was captivated by him. She no longer took any interest in her favorite resorts,--Paphos, and Cnidos, and Amathus, rich in metals. She absented herself even from Olympus, for Adonis was dearer to her than heaven. Him she followed and bore him company. She who loved to recline in the shade, with no care but to cultivate her charms, now rambled through the woods and over the hills, girt like the huntress Diana. She chased game that is safe to hunt, but kept clear of the wolves and bears. She charged Adonis, too, to beware of dangerous animals. "Be brave toward the timid," she would say, "courage against the courageous is not safe."

Having thus, on one occasion, warned him, she mounted her chariot drawn by swans and drove away through the air. But Adonis was too noble to heed such counsels. The dogs had roused a wild boar from his lair, and the youth threw his spear and wounded the animal with a sidelong stroke. The beast drew out the weapon with his jaws, and, rushing after Adonis, buried his tusks in the lad's side, and stretched him dying on the plain. The rest of the story is thus recounted:

THE LAMENT FOR ADONIS[125]... Low on the hills is lying the lovely Adonis, and his thigh with the boar's tusk, his white thigh with the boar's tusk, is wounded; and sorrow on Cypris he brings, as softly he breathes his life away.

His dark blood drips down his skin of snow; beneath his brows his eyes wax heavy and dim; and the rose flees from his lip, and thereon the very kiss is dying, the kiss that Cypris will never forego.... She hath lost her lovely lord, with him she hath lost her sacred beauty. Fair was the form of Cypris while Adonis was living, but her beauty has died with Adonis! Woe, woe for Cypris, the mountains all are saying. And the oak trees answer, Woe for Adonis! And the rivers bewail the sorrows of Aphrodite, and the wells are weeping Adonis on the mountains. The flowers flush red for anguish, and Cytherea through all the mountain-knees, through every dell, doth shrill the piteous dirge:

Woe, woe for Cytherea, he hath perished, the lovely Adonis!... When she saw, when she marked the unstanched wound of Adonis, when she saw the bright red blood about his languid thigh, she cast her arms abroad, and moaned, "Abide with me, Adonis, hapless Adonis, abide!... Awake, Adonis, for a little while, and kiss me yet again, the latest kiss!... This kiss will I treasure, even as thyself, Adonis, since, ah, ill-fated, thou art fleeing me, thou art fleeing far, Adonis, and art faring to Acheron, to that hateful king and cruel, while wretched I yet live, being a goddess, and may not follow thee! Persephone, take thou my lover, my lord, for thyself art stronger than I, and all lovely things drift down to thee. But I am ill-fated, inconsolable is my anguish; and I lament mine Adonis, dead to me, and I have no rest for sorrow.

"Thou diest, oh, thrice-desired, and my desire hath flown away as a dream! Nay, widowed is Cytherea, and idle are the Loves along the halls! With thee has the girdle of my beauty perished. For why, ah, overbold, didst thou follow the chase, and being so fair, why wert thou thus overhardy to fight with beasts?"

So Cypris bewailed her, the Loves join in the lament:

Woe, woe for Cytherea, he hath perished, the lovely Adonis!

A tear the Paphian sheds for each blood-drop of Adonis, and tears and blood on the earth are turned to flowers. The blood brings forth the rose; the tears, the wind-flower.

Woe, woe for Adonis, he hath perished, the lovely Adonis!... Cease, Cytherea, from thy lamentations, to-day refrain from thy dirges. Thou must again bewail him, again must weep for him another year.

=101. Cupid and Psyche.=[126] A certain king and queen had three daughters. The charms of the two elder were more than common, but the beauty of the youngest was such that the poverty of language is unable to express its praise. In fact, Venus found her altars deserted, while men paid their vows to this virgin. When Psyche passed, the people sang her praises and strewed her way with chaplets and flowers.

This perversion of homage gave great offense to Venus, who complained that Paris might just as well not have yielded her the palm of beauty over Pallas and Juno, if a mortal were thus to usurp her honors. Wherefore she called Cupid and, pointing out Psyche to him, bade him infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, unworthy being.

There were in Venus's garden two fountains,--one of sweet waters, the other of bitter. Cupid filled two amber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of Psyche, whom he found asleep. He shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her almost moved him to pity; and then he touched her side with the point of his arrow. She awoke, and opening her eyes on Cupid (himself invisible), so startled him that in his confusion he wounded himself with his arrow. Heedless of his wound, his thought now was to repair the mischief he had done. He poured, at once, the waters of joy over her silken ringlets.

But Psyche, henceforth frowned on by Venus, derived no benefit from her charms. Her two elder sisters had long been married to princes; but Psyche's beauty failed to awaken love. Consequently her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred the anger of the gods, consulted the oracle of Apollo.

They received answer, "The virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. Her husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. He is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist."

This dreadful decree of the oracle filled the people with dismay; but, at Psyche's request, preparations for her fate were made. The royal maid took her place in a procession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents, amid the lamentations of their subjects, ascended the mountain, where she was left alone.

While Psyche stood there, panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle Zephyr lifted her and, with an easy motion, bore her to a flowery dale. By degrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on the grassy bank to sleep. When she awoke refreshed with sleep, she beheld near by a pleasant grove of tall and stately trees. Entering, she discovered in the midst a fountain, and fast by a palace whose august front showed that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some god. She approached the building and entered. Every object she met filled her with pleasure and amazement. Golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings that represented beasts of the chase and rural scenes. Other apartments were filled with still other beautiful and precious productions of nature and art.

While her eyes were thus occupied, the voice of an invisible being addressed her: "Sovereign lady, all that thou beholdest is thine. We whose voices thou dost hear are thy servants. Retire, we pray thee, to thy chamber, repose on thy bed of down, and when it may please thee repair to the bath. Food awaits in the adjoining alcove."

After repose and the refreshment of the bath, Psyche seated herself in the alcove, where, without any visible aid, a table immediately presented itself, covered with delicacies and nectareous wines. Her ears, too, were delighted with music from invisible performers.

For a long time she did not see her husband. He came in the hours of darkness and fled before the dawn of morning; but his accents were full of love and inspired a like passion in her. Often she begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent. "Having looked on me," he said, "mayhap thou wouldst fear, mayhap adore, me; but all I ask of thee is love. I would rather thou shouldst love me as an equal than adore me as a god." This reasoning somewhat quieted Psyche for a time. But the thought of her parents and of her sisters, left in ignorance of her fate, preyed on her mind to such a degree that at last, telling her distress to her lord, she drew from him an unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to see her.

From the painting by Thumann]

Zephyr, promptly obedient, soon brought them across the mountain down to their sister's valley. They embraced her. She returned their caresses, and then committed them to the care of her attendant voices, who should refresh them in her bath and at her table, and show them her treasures. The view of these delights caused envy to enter their bosoms. They plied their fortunate sister with questions about her husband. Psyche replied that he was a beautiful youth, who generally spent the daytime in hunting on the mountains. The sisters, not satisfied with this reply, soon made her confess that she had never seen him. Then they proceeded to fill her bosom with dark suspicions. Probably her husband was a dreadful monster, such as the Pythian oracle had prophesied. Probably he was a direful serpent, who nourished her now to devour her by and by.

They advised her to provide herself against the night with a lamp and a sharp knife, told her what to do if her husband turned out the monster that they surmised, and, so saying, departed.

These persuasions Psyche resisted as well as she could, but they did not fail to have their effect on her mind. She prepared a lamp and a sharp knife, and hid them out of sight of her husband. That night, when he had fallen into his first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her lamp--

Scarce kept back a cry At what she saw; for there before her lay The very Love brighter than dawn of day; And as he lay there smiling, her own name His gentle lips in sleep began to frame, And, as to touch her face, his hand did move; O then, indeed, her faint heart swelled for love, And she began to sob, and tears fell fast On the bed.--But as she turned at last To quench the lamp, there happed a little thing That quenched her new delight, for flickering The treacherous flame cast on his shoulder fair A burning drop; he woke, and seeing her there The meaning of that sad sight knew full well, Nor was there need the piteous tale to tell.[127]

Without a word, Cupid spread his white wings, and flew out of window. Psyche, in vain endeavoring to follow, fell to the earth. For but an instant Cupid, staying, reproached her with distrust of him. "No other punishment inflict I than to leave thee forever. Love cannot dwell with suspicion." And so he flew away.

When Psyche had recovered some degree of composure, she looked around her. The palace and gardens had vanished. She found herself not far from the city where her sisters dwelt. Thither she repaired, and told them the story of her misfortunes, whereat they inwardly rejoiced. "For now," thought they, "he will perhaps choose one of us." With this idea, they rose early the next morning and, ascending the mountain, each called on Zephyr to receive her and bear her to his lord; then, leaping up, failed of the support of Zephyr, fell down the precipice, and was dashed to pieces.

Psyche, meanwhile, wandered day and night, without food or repose, in search of her husband. But he was lying heartsick in the chamber of his mother; and that goddess was absent on her own affairs. Then the white sea gull which floats over the waves dived into the middle deep,

And rowing with his glistening wings arrived At Aphrodite's bower beneath the sea.

She, as yet unaware of her son's mischance, was joyously consorting with her handmaidens; but he, the sea gull,

But he with garrulous and laughing tongue Broke up his news; how Eros fallen sick Lay tossing on his bed, to frenzy stung By such a burn as did but barely prick: A little bleb, no bigger than a pease, On his shoulder 'twas, that killed his ease, Fevered his heart, and made his breathing thick.

"For which disaster hath he not been seen This many a day at all in any place: And thou, dear mistress," said he, "hast not been Thyself among us now a dreary space: And pining mortals suffer from a dearth Of love; and for this sadness of the earth Thy family is darkened with disgrace....

"'Tis plain that, if thy pleasure longer pause, Thy mighty rule on earth hath seen its day: The race must come to perish, and no cause But that thou sittest with thy nymphs at play, While on the Cretan hills thy truant boy Has with his pretty mistress turned to toy, And, less for pain than love, now pines away."[128]

And Venus cried angrily, "My son, then, has a mistress! And it is Psyche, who witched away my beauty and was the rival of my godhead, whom he loves!"

Therewith she issued from the sea, and, returning to her golden chamber, found there the lad sick, as she had heard, and cried from the doorway, "Well done, truly! to trample thy mother's precepts under foot, to spare my enemy that cross of an unworthy love; nay, unite her to thyself, child as thou art, that I might have a daughter-in-law who hates me! I will make thee repent of thy sport, and the savor of thy marriage bitter. There is one who shall chasten this body of thine, put out thy torch, and unstring thy bow. Not till she has plucked forth that hair, into which so oft these hands have smoothed the golden light, and sheared away thy wings, shall I feel the injury done me avenged." And with this she hastened in anger from the doors.

And Ceres and Juno met her, and sought to know the meaning of her troubled countenance. "Ye come in season," she cried; "I pray you, find for me Psyche. It must needs be that ye have heard the disgrace of my house." And they, ignorant of what was done, would have soothed her anger, saying, "What fault, Mistress, hath thy son committed, that thou wouldst destroy the girl he loves? Knowest thou not that he is now of age? Because he wears his years so lightly must he seem to thee ever to be a child? Wilt thou forever thus pry into the pastimes of thy son, always accusing his wantonness, and blaming in him those delicate wiles which are all thine own?" Thus, in secret fear of the boy's bow, did they seek to please him with their gracious patronage. But Venus, angry at their light taking of her wrongs, turned her back on them, and with hasty steps made her way once more to the sea.[129]

And soon after, Psyche herself reached the temple of Ceres, where she won the favor of the goddess by arranging in due order the heaps of mingled grain and ears and the carelessly scattered harvest implements that lay there. The holy Ceres then counseled her to submit to Venus, to try humbly to win her forgiveness, and, mayhap, through her favor regain the lover that was lost.

Obeying the commands of Ceres, Psyche took her way to the temple of the golden-crowned Cypris. That goddess received her with angry countenance, called her an undutiful and faithless servant, taunted her with the wound given to her husband, and insisted that for so ill-favored a girl there was no way of meriting a lover save by dint of industry. Thereupon she ordered Psyche to be led to the storehouse of the temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her pigeons, and gave order, "Take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves,--and see that thou get it done before evening." This said, Venus departed and left the girl to her task. But Psyche, in perfect consternation at the enormous task, sat stupid and silent; nor would the work have been accomplished had not Cupid stirred up the ants to take compassion on her.

They separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel and vanishing out of sight in a moment.

At the approach of twilight, Cytherea returned from the banquet of the gods, breathing odors and crowned with roses. Seeing the task done, she promptly exclaimed, "This is no work of thine, wicked one, but his, whom to thine own and his misfortune thou hast enticed,"--threw the girl a piece of black bread for her supper, and departed.

Next morning, however, the goddess, ordering Psyche to be summoned, commanded her to fetch a sample of wool gathered from each of the golden-shining sheep that fed beyond a neighboring river. Obediently the princess went to the riverside, prepared to do her best to execute the command. But the god of that stream inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs that dissuaded her from venturing among the golden rams while they raged under the influence of the rising sun. Psyche, observing the directions of the compassionate river-god, crossed when the noontide sun had driven the cattle to the shade, gathered the woolly gold from the bushes where it was clinging, and returned to Venus with her arms full of the shining fleece. But, far from commending her, that implacable mistress said, "I know very well that by the aid of another thou hast done this; not yet am I assured that thou hast skill to be of use.

Here, now, take this box to Proserpine and say, 'My mistress Venus entreats thee to send her a little of thy beauty, for in tending her sick son she hath lost some of her own.'"

Psyche, satisfied that her destruction was at hand, doomed as she was to travel afoot to Erebus, thought to shorten the journey by precipitating herself at once from the summit of a tower. But a voice from the tower, restraining her from this rash purpose, explained how by a certain cave she might reach the realm of Pluto; how she might avoid the peril of the road, pass by Cerberus, and prevail on Charon to take her across the black river and bring her back again. The voice, also, especially cautioned her against prying into the box filled with the beauty of Proserpine.

So, taking heed to her ways, the unfortunate girl traveled safely to the kingdom of Pluto. She was admitted to the palace of Proserpine, where, contenting herself with plain fare instead of the delicious banquet that was offered her, she delivered her message from Venus. Presently the box, filled with the precious commodity, was restored to her; and glad was she to come out once more into the light of day.

But having got so far successfully through her dangerous task, a desire seized her to examine the contents of the box, and to spread the least bit of the divine beauty on her cheeks that she might appear to more advantage in the eyes of her beloved husband.

Therewith down by the wayside did she sit And turned the box round, long regarding it; But at the last, with trembling hands, undid The clasp, and fearfully raised up the lid; But what was there she saw not, for her head Fell back, and nothing she rememberèd Of all her life, yet nought of rest she had, The hope of which makes hapless mortals glad; For while her limbs were sunk in deadly sleep Most like to death, over her heart 'gan creep Ill dreams; so that for fear and great distress She would have cried, but in her helplessness Could open not her mouth, or frame a word.[130]

But Cupid, now recovered from his wound, slipped through a crack in the window of his chamber, flew to the spot where his beloved lay, gathered up the sleep from her body and inclosed it again in the box, then waked Psyche with the touch of an arrow. "Again," said he, "hast thou almost perished by thy curiosity. But now perform the task imposed on thee by my mother, and I will care for the rest."

From the painting by Thumann]

Then Cupid, swift as lightning penetrating the heights of heaven, presented himself before Jupiter with his supplication. Jupiter lent a favoring ear and pleaded the cause of the lovers with Venus. Gaining her consent, he ordered Mercury to convey Psyche to the heavenly abodes. On her advent, the king of the immortals, handing her a cup of ambrosia, said, "Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal. Thy Cupid shall never break from the knot in which he is tied; these nuptials shall indeed be perpetual."

Thus Psyche was at last united to Cupid; and in due season a daughter was born to them whose name was Pleasure.

The allegory of Cupid and Psyche is well presented in the following lines:

They wove bright fables in the days of old, When reason borrowed fancy's painted wings; When truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold, And told in song its high and mystic things! And such the sweet and solemn tale of her The pilgrim-heart, to whom a dream was given, That led her through the world,--Love's worshiper,-- To seek on earth for him whose home was heaven!

In the full city,--by the haunted fount,-- Through the dim grotto's tracery of spars,-- 'Mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount, Where silence sits to listen to the stars; In the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove, The painted valley, and the scented air, She heard far echoes of the voice of Love, And found his footsteps' traces everywhere.

But never more they met! since doubts and fears, Those phantom-shapes that haunt and blight the earth, Had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears, And that bright spirit of immortal birth; Until her pining soul and weeping eyes Had learned to seek him only in the skies; Till wings unto the weary heart were given, And she became Love's angel bride in heaven![131]

The story of Cupid and Psyche first appears in the works of Apuleius, a writer of the second century of our era. It is therefore of much more recent date than most of the classic myths.

=102. Keats' Ode to Psyche.= To this fact allusion is made in the following poem:

O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear, And pardon that thy secrets should be sung Even into thine own soft-conchèd ear: Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see The wingèd Psyche with awakened eyes? I wandered in a forest thoughtlessly, And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise, Saw two fair creatures, couchèd side by side In deepest grass, beneath the whispering roof Of leaves and tumbled blossoms, where there ran A brooklet, scarce espied!

'Mid hushed, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed, Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian, They lay calm-breathing on the bedded grass; Their arms embracèd, and their pinions, too; Their lips touched not, but had not bade adieu, As if disjoinèd by soft-handed slumber, And ready still past kisses to outnumber At tender eye-dawn of Aurorean love: The wingèd boy I knew: But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove? His Psyche true!

O latest born and loveliest vision far Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy! Fairer than Ph[oe]be's sapphire-regioned star, Or Vesper, amorous glowworm of the sky; Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, Nor altar heaped with flowers; Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan On the midnight hours; No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet From chain-swung censer teeming; No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming.

O brightest! though too late for antique vows Too, too late for the fond believing lyre, When holy were the haunted forest boughs, Holy the air, the water, and the fire; Yet even in these days so far retired From happy pieties, thy lucent fans, Fluttering among the faint Olympians, I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspired. So let me be thy choir, and make a moan On the midnight hours; Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet From swingèd censer teeming, Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming.

Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane In some untrodden region of my mind, Where branchèd thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain, Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind: Far, far around shall those dark clustered trees Fledge the wild-ridgèd mountains steep by steep; And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds and bees, The moss-lain Dryads shall be lulled to sleep; And in the midst of this wide quietness A rosy sanctuary will I dress With the wreathèd trellis of a working brain, With buds, and bells, and stars without a name, With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign, Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same; And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in!

The loves of the devotees of Venus are as the sands of the sea for number. Below are given the fortunes of a few: Hippomenes, Hero, Pygmalion, Pyramus, and Phaon. The favor of the goddess toward Paris, who awarded her the palm of beauty in preference to Juno and Minerva, will occupy our attention in connection with the story of the Trojan War.

=103. Atalanta's Race.=[132] Atalanta, the daughter of Sch[oe]neus of B[oe]otia, had been warned by an oracle that marriage would be fatal to her happiness. Consequently she fled the society of men and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. Fair, fearless, swift, and free, in beauty and in desire she was a Cynthia,--of mortal form and with a woman's heart. To all suitors (for she had many) she made answer: "I will be the prize of him only who shall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail." In spite of this hard condition some would try. Of one such race Hippomenes was to be judge. It was his thought, at first, that these suitors risked too much for a wife. But when he saw Atalanta lay aside her robe for the race with one of them, he changed his mind and began to swell with envy of whomsoever seemed likely to win.

The virgin darted forward. As she ran she looked more beautiful than ever. The breezes gave wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. A ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble wall. Her competitor was distanced and was put to death without mercy. Hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixed his eyes on the virgin and said, "Why boast of beating those laggards? I offer myself for the contest." Atalanta looked at him with pity in her face and hardly knew whether she would rather conquer so goodly a youth or not. While she hesitated, the spectators grew impatient for the contest and her father prompted her to prepare. Then Hippomenes addressed a prayer to Cypris: "Help me, Venus, for thou hast impelled me." Venus heard and was propitious.

From the painting by Poynter]

She gathered three golden apples from the garden of her temple in her own island of Cyprus and, unseen by any, gave them to Hippomenes, telling him how to use them. Atalanta and her lover were ready. The signal was given.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

They both started; he, by one stride, first, For she half pitied him so beautiful, Running to meet his death, yet was resolved To conquer: soon she near'd him, and he felt The rapid and repeated gush of breath Behind his shoulder. From his hand now dropt A golden apple: she lookt down and saw A glitter on the grass, yet on she ran. He dropt a second; now she seem'd to stoop: He dropt a third; and now she stoopt indeed: Yet, swifter than a wren picks up a grain Of millet, rais'd her head: it was too late, Only one step, only one breath, too late. Hippomenes had toucht the maple goal With but two fingers, leaning pronely forth. She stood in mute despair; the prize was won. Now each walkt slowly forward, both so tired, And both alike breathed hard, and stopt at times. When he turn'd round to her, she lowered her face Cover'd with blushes, and held out her hand, The golden apple in it. "Leave me now," Said she, "I must walk homeward."

He did take The apple and the hand. "Both I detain," Said he, "the other two I dedicate To the two Powers that soften virgin hearts, Eros and Aphrodite; and this one To her who ratifies the nuptial vow." [133]

But the oracle was yet to be fulfilled. The lovers, full of their own happiness, after all, forgot to pay due honor to Aphrodite, and the goddess was provoked at their ingratitude. She caused them to give offense to Cybele. That powerful goddess took from them their human form: the huntress heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness; her lord and master a lion,--and yoked them to her car, where they are still to be seen in all representations in statuary or painting of the goddess Cybele.

=104 Hero and Leander= were star-crossed lovers of later classical fiction.[134] Although their story is not of supernatural beings, or of events necessarily influenced by supernatural agencies, and therefore not mythical in the strict sense of the word, it deserves to be included here both because of its pathetic beauty and its long literary tradition. The poet Marlowe puts the story into English thus:

On Hellespont, guilty of true love's blood, In view and opposite two cities stood, Sea-borderers, disjoin'd by Neptune's might The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight. At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero the fair, Whom young Apollo courted for her hair, And offer'd as a dower his burning throne, Where she should sit, for men to gaze on.... Some say, for her the fairest Cupid pin'd, And, looking in her face, was strooken blind. But this is true: so like was one the other, As he imagined Hero was his mother; And oftentimes into her bosom flew, About her naked neck his bare arms threw, And laid his childish head on her breast, And, with still panting rockt, there took his rest.

In Abydos dwelt the manly Leander, who, as luck would have it, bethought himself one day of the festival of Venus in Sestos, and thither fared to do obeisance to the goddess.

On this feast-day,--O cursèd day and hour!-- Went Hero through Sestos, from her tower To Venus' temple, where unhappily, As after chanc'd, they did each other spy. So fair a church as this had Venus none; The walls were of discolored jasper-stone,... And in the midst a silver altar stood: There Hero, sacrificing turtle's blood, Vail'd to the ground, veiling her eyelids close; And modestly they opened as she rose: Thence flew Love's arrow with the golden head; And thus Leander was enamourèd. Stone-still he stood, and evermore he gaz'd, Till with the fire, that from his countenance blaz'd, Relenting Hero's gentle heart was strook: Such power and virtue hath an amorous look.

It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is overrul'd by fate. When two are stript long e'er the course begin, We wish that one should lose, the other win; And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect: The reason no man knows; let it suffice, What we behold is censur'd by our eyes. Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?

He kneel'd; but unto her devoutly prayed: Chaste Hero to herself thus softly said, "Were I the saint he worships, I would hear him"; And, as she spake those words, came somewhat near him. He started up; she blush'd as one asham'd; Wherewith Leander much more was inflam'd. He touch'd her hand; in touching it she trembled: Love deeply grounded, hardly is dissembled....

So they conversed by touch of hands, till Leander, plucking up courage, began to plead with words, with sighs and tears.

These arguments he us'd, and many more; Wherewith she yielded, that was won before. Hero's looks yielded, but her words made war: Women are won when they begin to jar. Thus having swallow'd Cupid's golden hook, The more she striv'd, the deeper was she strook: Yet, evilly feigning anger, strove she still, And would be thought to grant against her will. So having paus'd awhile, at last she said, "Who taught thee rhetoric to deceive a maid? Ay me! such words as these should I abhor, And yet I like them for the orator." With that Leander stoop'd to have embrac'd her, But from his spreading arms away she cast her, And thus bespake him: "Gentle youth, forbear To touch the sacred garments which I wear."...

Then she told him of the turret by the murmuring sea where all day long she tended Venus' swans and sparrows:

"Come thither." As she spake this, her tongue tripp'd, For unawares, "Come thither," from her slipp'd; And suddenly her former color chang'd, And here and there her eyes through anger rang'd; And, like a planet moving several ways At one self instant, she, poor soul, assays, Loving, not to love at all, and every part Strove to resist the motions of her heart: And hands so pure, so innocent, nay, such As might have made Heaven stoop to have a touch, Did she uphold to Venus, and again Vow'd spotless chastity; but all in vain; Cupid beats down her prayers with his wings....

From the painting by Keller]

For a season all went well. Guided by a torch which his mistress reared on the tower, he was wont of nights to swim the strait that he might enjoy her company. But one night a tempest arose and the sea was rough; his strength failed and he was drowned. The waves bore his body to the European shore, where Hero became aware of his death, and in her despair cast herself into the sea and perished.

A picture of the drowning Leander is thus described by Keats:[135]

Come hither all sweet maidens soberly, Down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light, Hid in the fringe of your eyelids white, And meekly let your fair hands joinèd be, As if so gentle that ye could not see, Untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright, Sinking away to his young spirit's night, Sinking bewilder'd 'mid the dreary sea: 'Tis young Leander toiling to his death; Nigh swooning he doth purse his weary lips For Hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile. O horrid dream! see how his body dips Dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile; He's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!

=105. Pygmalion and the Statue.=[136] Pygmalion saw so much to blame in women, that he came at last to abhor the sex and resolved to live unmarried. He was a sculptor, and had made with wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so beautiful that no living woman was to compare with it. It was indeed the perfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be alive and that was prevented from moving only by modesty. His art was so perfect that it concealed itself, and its product looked like the workmanship of nature. Pygmalion at last fell in love with his counterfeit creation. Oftentimes he laid his hand on it as if to assure himself whether it were living or not, and could not even then believe that it was only ivory.

The festival of Venus was at hand,--a festival celebrated with great pomp at Cyprus. Victims were offered, the altars smoked, and the odor of incense filled the air. When Pygmalion had performed his part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar and, according to one of our poets, timidly said:

O Aphrodite, kind and fair, That what thou wilt canst give, Oh, listen to a sculptor's prayer, And bid mine image live! For me the ivory and gold That clothe her cedar frame Are beautiful, indeed, but cold; Ah, touch them with thy flame! Oh, bid her move those lips of rose, Bid float that golden hair, And let her choose me, as I chose, This fairest of the fair! And then an altar in thy court I'll offer, decked with gold; And there thy servants shall resort, Thy doves be bought and sold![137]

According to another version of the story, he said not, "bid mine image live," but "one like my ivory virgin." At any rate, with such a prayer he threw incense on the flame of the altar. Whereupon Venus, as an omen of her favor, caused the flame to shoot up thrice a fiery point into the air.

When Pygmalion reached his home, to his amazement he saw before him his statue garlanded with flowers.

Yet while he stood, and knew not what to do With yearning, a strange thrill of hope there came, A shaft of new desire now pierced him through, And therewithal a soft voice called his name, And when he turned, with eager eyes aflame, He saw betwixt him and the setting sun The lively image of his lovèd one.

He trembled at the sight, for though her eyes, Her very lips, were such as he had made, And though her tresses fell but in such guise As he had wrought them, now was she arrayed In that fair garment that the priests had laid On the goddess on that very morn, Dyed like the setting sun on the corn.

Speechless he stood, but she now drew anear, Simple and sweet as she was wont to be, And once again her silver voice rang clear, Filling his soul with great felicity, And thus she spoke, "Wilt thou not come to me, O dear companion of my new-found life, For I am called thy lover and thy wife?...

"My sweet," she said, "as yet I am not wise, Or stored with words aright the tale to tell, But listen: when I opened first mine eyes I stood within the niche thou knowest well, And from my hand a heavy thing there fell Carved like these flowers, nor could I see things clear, But with a strange, confusèd noise could hear.

"At last mine eyes could see a woman fair, But awful as this round white moon o'erhead, So that I trembled when I saw her there, For with my life was born some touch of dread, And therewithal I heard her voice that said, 'Come down and learn to love and be alive, For thee, a well-prized gift, to-day I give.'"[138]

A fuller account of Venus' address to the statue is the following:

O maiden, in mine image made! O grace that shouldst endure! While temples fall, and empires fade, Immaculately pure: Exchange this endless life of art For beauty that must die, And blossom with a beating heart Into mortality! Change, golden tresses of her hair, To gold that turns to gray; Change, silent lips, forever fair, To lips that have their day! Oh, perfect arms, grow soft with life, Wax warm, ere cold ye wane; Wake, woman's heart, from peace to strife, To love, to joy, to pain![139]

The maiden was called Galatea. Venus blessed the nuptials, and from the union Paphos was born, by whose name the city, sacred to Venus, is known.

=106. Pyramus and Thisbe.=[140] Pyramus was the handsomest youth and Thisbe the fairest maiden in Babylonia, where Semiramis reigned. Their parents occupied adjoining houses. Propinquity brought the young people together, and acquaintance ripened into love. They would gladly have married, but their parents forbade. One thing, however, parents could not forbid (for Venus and Cupid favored the match),--that love should glow with equal ardor in the bosoms of both. They conversed by signs and glances, and the fire burned the more intensely that it was covered. In the wall between the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault in the structure. It afforded a passage to the voice; and tender messages passed back and forth through the gap. When night came and they must say farewell, the lovers pressed their lips on the wall, she on her side, he on his.

From the painting by Edward Burne-Jones]

One morning, when Aurora had put out the stars and the sun had melted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed spot and arranged a meeting for that night at a well-known edifice, standing without the city's bounds,--the Tomb of Ninus. The one who first arrived should await the other at the foot of a white mulberry tree near a cool spring. Evening came. Thisbe, arriving first, sat alone by the monument in the dim light of the evening. Suddenly she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. The maiden fled at the sight, dropping her veil as she ran. The lioness, after drinking at the spring, turned toward the woods, and, seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and rent it with her bloody mouth.

Now Pyramus approached the place of meeting. He saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion. He found the veil all rent and bloody. "O, hapless girl," cried he, "I have been the cause of thy death; but I follow thee!" So saying, he drew his sword and plunged it into his heart. The blood spurted from the wound and tinged the white mulberries of the tree all red, and, sinking into the earth, reached the roots, so that the sanguine hue mounted through the trunk to the fruit.

By this time Thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not to disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking anxiously for the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had escaped. When she came to the spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries, she doubted whether it was the same place. While she hesitated, she saw the form of her lover struggling in the agonies of death. She screamed and beat her breast, she embraced the lifeless body, poured tears into its wounds, and imprinted kisses on the cold lips. "O, Pyramus," she cried, "what has done this? It is thine own Thisbe that speaks." At the name of Thisbe Pyramus opened his eyes, then closed them again. She saw her veil stained with blood and the scabbard empty of its sword. "Thine own hand has slain thee, and for my sake," she said. "I, too, can be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine.

But ye, unhappy parents of us both, deny us not our united request. As love and death have joined us, let one tomb contain us. And thou, tree, retain the marks of slaughter. Let thy berries still serve for memorials of our blood." So saying, she plunged the sword into her breast. The two bodies were buried in one sepulcher, and the tree henceforth produced purple berries.

=107. Phaon= ferried a boat between Lesbos and Chios. One day the queen of Paphos and Amathus,[141] in the guise of an ugly crone, begged a passage, which was so good-naturedly granted that in recompense she bestowed on the ferryman a salve possessing magical properties of youth and beauty. As a consequence of the use made of it by Phaon, the women of Lesbos went wild for love of him. None, however, admired him more than the poetess Sappho, who addressed to him some of her warmest and rarest love-songs.

=108. The Vengeance of Venus.= Venus did not fail to follow with her vengeance those who dishonored her rites or defied her power. The youth Hippolytus who, eschewing love, preferred Diana to her, she brought miserably to his ruin. Polyphonte she transformed into an owl, Arsinoë into a stone, and Myrrha into a myrtle tree.[142] Her influence in the main was of mingled bane and blessing, as in the cases of Helen, [OE]none, Pasiphaë, Ariadne, Procris, Eriphyle, Laodamia, and others whose stories are elsewhere told.[143]

=109. = According to Homer,[144] Maia bore Mercury at the peep of day,--a schemer subtle beyond all belief. He began playing on the lyre at noon; for, wandering out of the lofty cavern of Cyllene, he found a tortoise, picked it up, bored the life out of the beast, fitted the shell with bridge and reeds, and accompanied himself therewith as he sang a strain of unpremeditated sweetness. At evening of the same day he stole the oxen of his half brother Apollo from the Pierian mountains, where they were grazing. He covered their hoofs with tamarisk twigs, and, still further to deceive the pursuer, drove them backward into a cave at Pylos. There rubbing laurel branches together, he made fire and sacrificed, as an example for men to follow, two heifers to the twelve gods (himself included). Then home he went and slept, innocent as a new-born child!

To his mother's warning that Apollo would catch and punish him, this innocent replied, in effect, "I know a trick better than that!" And when the puzzled Apollo, having traced the knavery to this babe in swaddling clothes, accused him of it, the sweet boy swore a great oath by his father's head that he stole not the cows, nor knew even what cows might be, for he had only that moment heard the name of them. Apollo proceeded to trounce the baby, with scant success, however, for Mercury persisted in his assumption of ignorance. So the twain appeared before their sire, and Apollo entered his complaint: he had not seen nor ever dreamed of so precocious a cattle-stealer, liar, and full-fledged knave as this young rascal. To all of which Mercury responded that he was, on the contrary, a veracious person, but that his brother Apollo was a coward to bully a helpless little new-born thing that slept, nor ever had thought of "lifting" cattle.

The wink with which the lad of Cyllene accompanied this asseveration threw Jupiter into uncontrollable roars of laughter. Consequently, the quarrel was patched up: Mercury gave Apollo the new-made lyre; Apollo presented the prodigy with a glittering whiplash and installed him herdsman of his oxen. Nay even, when Mercury had sworn by sacred Styx no more to try his cunning in theft on Apollo, that god in gratitude invested him with the magic wand of wealth, happiness, and dreams (the caduceus), it being understood, however, that Mercury should indicate the future only by signs, not by speech or song as did Apollo. It is said that the god of gain avenged himself for this enforced rectitude on others: on Venus, whose girdle he purloined; on Neptune, whose trident he filched; on Vulcan, whose tongs he borrowed; and on Mars, whose sword he stole.

The most famous exploit of the Messenger, the slaughter of Argus, has already been narrated.

FOOTNOTES:

[66] Ovid, Metam. I, 700 et seq.

[67] Ovid, Metam. 2, 410 et seq.

[68] Translated by Andrew Lang: Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus, London, 1880.

[69] § 70.

[70] Ovid, Metam. 3, 260 et seq.

[71] §§ 42, 110-113.

[72] From E. R. Sill's Semele.

[73] Commentary, §§ 118, 255.

[74] Ovid, Metam. 7, 172 et seq.

[75] Roscher, Ausf. Lex. Lfg. 3, 379 [Schirmer]. Originals in Pausanias, Apollodorus, and Hyginus.

[76] From Tennyson's Amphion. See Horace, Ars Poet. 394.

[77] Ovid, Metam. 8, 620-724.

[78] From The Sons of Cydippe, by Edmund Gosse in his On Viol and Flute.

[79] § 27, and Commentary.

[80] From Ovid.

[81] From Spenser's Muiopotmos.

[82] Ovid, Metam. 6, 1-145.

[83] § 200.

[84] Iliad, 5, 850 et seq. (Lang, Leaf, and Myers' translation). In accordance with the system of nomenclature adopted in this work, Latin equivalents are given, wherever possible, for Greek names.

[85] Iliad, 21, 390 (Lang, Leaf, and Myers' translation).

[86] Ovid, Metam. 3, 1-137; 4, 563-614.

[87] Iliad, 2, 1335.

[88] Ovid, Metam. 6, 313-381.

[89] § 30.

[90] Roscher, Ausf. Lex. Lfg. 2, 254, Article Aloadæ [Schultz].

[91] Ovid, Metam. 10, 162-219.

[92] Ovid, Metam. 2, 1-400.

[93] § 44.

[94] Medio tutissimus ibis.--OVID.

Hic situs est Phaëthon, currus auriga paterni, Quem si non tenuit, magnis tamen excidit ausis.--OVID.

[96] Iliad, 1, 43-52 (Lang, Leaf, and Myers' translation).

[97] Ovid, Metam. 6, 165-312.

[98] From W. S. Landor's Niobe.

[99] See Commentary, §§ 64, 80.

[100] Iliad, 18, 564 (Lang, Leaf, and Myers' translation).

[101] Cicero, Natura Deorum, 3, 22.

[102] See Commentary.

[103] From Browning's Balaustion's Adventure. The Greek form of the proper names has been retained.

[104] Proserpine.

[105] For the originals, see Iliad, 2, 715, and the Alcestis of Euripides.

[106] Ovid, Metam. 11, 146-193.

[107] § 118.

[108] § 145.

[109] Ovid, Metam. 1, 452-567.

[110] From the Fable for Critics.

[111] Iliad, 9, 561; Apollodorus, 1, 7, § 8.

[112] Stephen Phillips, Marpessa.

[113] Ovid, Metam. 4, 256-270.

[114] § 196.

[115] § 168.

[116] Ovid, Metam. 5, 585-641.

[117] Ovid, Metam. 3, 138-252.

[118] Apollodorus, 1, 4, § 3.

[119] Ovid, Fasti, 5, 537; Iliad, 18, 486, and 22, 29; Odyssey, 5, 121, 274.

[120] The story is told by Hyginus in his Fables, and in his Poetical Astronomy.

[121] Authorities are Pausanias, 5, 1, §§ 2-4; Ovid, Ars. Am. 3, 83; Tristia, 2, 299; Apollonius, and Apollodorus.

[122] From the Endymion, Bk. 3.

[123] § 194.

[124] Ovid, Metam. 10, 503-559, 708-739.

[125] From an elegy intended to be sung at one of the spring celebrations in memory of Adonis. Translated from Bion by Andrew Lang. Cypris, Cytherea, and the Paphian refer to Venus. See Commentary. This elegy is also translated by Mrs. Browning and by Sir Edwin Arnold.

[126] Apuleius, Metam. Golden Ass, 4, 28, etc.

[127] William Morris, The Story of Cupid and Psyche, in The Earthly Paradise.

[128] Robert Bridges, Eros and Psyche.

[129] The last three paragraphs are from Pater's version in Marius the Epicurean.

[130] William Morris, The Earthly Paradise.

[131] By T. K. Hervey.

[132] Ovid, Metam. 10, 560-680.

[133] From W. S. Landor's Hippomenes and Atalanta.

[134] The poetical passages are from Marlowe's Hero and Leander, First Sestiad. Marlowe's narrative was completed by Chapman. See Musæus of Alexandria, De Amore Herois et Leandri; Virg. Georg. 3, 258; Ovid, Her. 18, 19; Stat. Theb. 6, 770.

[135] Sonnet, On a Picture of Leander.

[136] Ovid, Metam. 10, 243-297.

[137] Andrew Lang, The New Pygmalion.

[138] From William Morris, Pygmalion and the Image, in The Earthly Paradise.

[139] Andrew Lang, The New Pygmalion, or The Statue's Choice. A witty and not unpoetic bit of burlesque.

[140] Ovid, Metam. 4, 55-166.

[141] § 100, and Commentary.

[142] Murray, Manual of Mythology, p. 87; Ovid, Metam. 10, 298-502.

[143] See Index for sections.

[144] Hymn to Mercury (Hermes).

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=110. Myths of Bacchus.= Since the adventures of Ceres, although she was a goddess of earth, are intimately connected with the life of the underworld, they will be related in the sections pertaining to Proserpine and Pluto. The god of vernal sap and vegetation, of the gladness that comes of youth or of wine, the golden-curled, sleepy-eyed Bacchus (Dionysus),--his wanderings, and the fortunes of mortals brought under his influence (Pentheus, Acetes, Ariadne, and Midas), here challenge our attention.

=111. = After the death of Semele,[145] Jove took the infant Bacchus and gave him in charge to the Nysæan nymphs, who nourished his infancy and childhood and for their care were placed by Jupiter, as the Hyades, among the stars. Another guardian and tutor of young Bacchus was the pot-bellied, jovial Silenus, son of Pan and a nymph, and oldest of the Satyrs. Silenus was probably an indulgent preceptor. He was generally tipsy and would have broken his neck early in his career, had not the Satyrs held him on his ass's back as he reeled along in the train of his pupil. After Bacchus was of age, he discovered the culture of the vine and the mode of extracting its precious juice; but Juno struck him with madness and drove him forth a wanderer through various parts of the earth.

In Phrygia the goddess Rhea cured him and taught him her religious rites; and then he set out on a progress through Asia, teaching the people the cultivation of the vine. The most famous part of his wanderings is his expedition to India, which is said to have lasted several years. Returning in triumph, he undertook to introduce his worship into Greece, but was opposed by certain princes who dreaded the disorders and madness it brought with it. Finally, he approached his native city Thebes, where his own cousin, Pentheus, son of Agave and grandson of Harmonia and Cadmus, was king. [146] But when it was known that Bacchus was advancing, men and women, young and old, poured forth to meet him and to join his triumphal march.

Fauns with youthful Bacchus follow; Ivy crowns that brow, supernal As the forehead of Apollo, And possessing youth eternal.

Round about him fair Bacchantes, Bearing cymbals, flutes, and thyrses, Wild from Naxian groves or Zante's Vineyards, sing delirious verses.[147]

It was in vain Pentheus remonstrated, commanded, and threatened. His nearest friends and wisest counselors begged him not to oppose the god. Their remonstrances only made him the more violent.

=112. The Story of Acetes.= Soon the attendants returned who had been dispatched to seize Bacchus. They had succeeded in taking one of the Bacchanals prisoner, whom, with his hands tied behind him, they brought before the king. Pentheus, threatening him with death, commanded him to tell who he was and what these new rites were that he presumed to celebrate.

The prisoner, unterrified, replied that he was Acetes of Mæonia; that his parents, being poor, had left him their fisherman's trade, which he had followed till he had acquired the pilot's art of steering his course by the stars. It once happened that he had touched at the island of Dia and had sent his men ashore for fresh water. They returned, bringing with them a lad of delicate appearance whom they had found asleep. Judging him to be a noble youth, they thought to detain him in the hope of liberal ransom. But Acetes suspected that some god was concealed under the youth's exterior, and asked pardon for the violence done. Whereupon the sailors, enraged by their lust of gain, exclaimed, "Spare thy prayers for us!" and, in spite of the resistance offered by Acetes, thrust the captive youth on board and set sail.

Then Bacchus (for the youth was indeed he), as if shaking off his drowsiness, asked what the trouble was and whither they were carrying him. One of the mariners replied, "Fear nothing; tell us where thou wouldst go, and we will convey thee thither." "Naxos is my home," said Bacchus; "take me there, and ye shall be well rewarded." They promised so to do; but, preventing the pilot from steering toward Naxos, they bore away for Egypt, where they might sell the lad into slavery. Soon the god looked out over the sea and said in a voice of weeping, "Sailors, these are not the shores ye promised me; yonder island is not my home. It is small glory ye shall gain by cheating a poor boy." Acetes wept to hear him, but the crew laughed at both of them and sped the vessel fast over the sea. All at once it stopped in mid-sea, as fast as if it were fixed on the ground. The men, astonished, pulled at their oars and spread more sail, but all in vain.

Ivy twined round the oars and clung to the sails, with heavy clusters of berries. A vine laden with grapes ran up the mast and along the sides of the vessel. The sound of flutes was heard, and the odor of fragrant wine spread all around. The god himself had a chaplet of vine leaves and bore in his hand a spear wreathed with ivy. Tigers crouched at his feet, and forms of lynxes and spotted panthers played around him. The whole crew became dolphins and swam about the ship. Of twenty men Acetes alone was left. "Fear not," said the god; "steer towards Naxos." The pilot obeyed, and when they arrived there, kindled the altars and celebrated the sacred rites of Bacchus.

So far had Acetes advanced in his narrative, when Pentheus, interrupting, ordered him off to his death. But from this fate the pilot, rendered invisible by his patron deity, was straightway rescued.

Meanwhile, the mountain Cithæron seemed alive with worshipers, and the cries of the Bacchanals resounded on every side. Pentheus, angered by the noise, penetrated through the wood and reached an open space where the chief scene of the orgies met his eyes. At the same moment the women saw him, among them his mother Agave, and Autonoë and Ino, her sisters. Taking him for a wild boar, they rushed on him and tore him to pieces,--his mother shouting, "Victory! Victory! the glory is ours!"

So the worship of Bacchus was established in Greece.

It was on the island of Naxos that Bacchus afterward found Ariadne, the daughter of Minos, king of Crete, who had been deserted by her lover, Theseus. How Bacchus comforted her is related in another section. How the god himself is worshiped is told by Edmund Gosse in the poem from which the following extracts are taken:

Behold, behold! the granite gates unclose, And down the vales a lyric people flows; Dancing to music, in their dance they fling Their frantic robes to every wind that blows, And deathless praises to the vine-god sing.

within the heart of this great flight, Whose ivory arms hold up the golden lyre? What form is this of more than mortal height? What matchless beauty, what inspirèd ire! [148]

=113. =[149] Once Silenus, having wandered from the company of Bacchus in an intoxicated condition, was found by some peasants, who carried him to their king, Midas. Midas entertained him royally and on the eleventh day restored him in safety to his divine pupil. Whereupon Bacchus offered Midas his choice of a reward. The king asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into gold. Bacchus consented. Midas hastened to put his new-acquired power to the test. A twig of an oak, which he plucked from the branch, became gold in his hand. He took up a stone; it changed to gold. He touched a sod with the same result. He took an apple from the tree; you would have thought he had robbed the garden of the Hesperides. He ordered his servants, then, to set an excellent meal on the table. But, to his dismay, when he touched bread, it hardened in his hand; when he put a morsel to his lips, it defied his teeth.

He took a glass of wine, but it flowed down his throat like melted gold.

He strove to divest himself of his power; he hated the gift he had lately coveted. He raised his arms, all shining with gold, in prayer to Bacchus, begging to be delivered from this glittering destruction. The merciful deity heard and sent him to wash away his fault and its punishment in the fountainhead of the river Pactolus. Scarce had Midas touched the waters, before the gold-creating power passed into them, and the river sands became golden, as they remain to this day.

Thenceforth Midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt in the country and became a worshiper of Pan, the god of the fields. But that he had not gained common sense is shown by the decision that he delivered somewhat later in favor of Pan's superiority, as a musician, over Apollo.[150]

FOOTNOTES:

[145] § 60.

[146] Ovid, Metam. 3, 511-733.

[147] Longfellow, Drinking Song.

[148] From The Praise of Dionysus.

[149] Ovid, Metam. 11, 85-145.

[150] See § 85.

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=114. Myths of Ceres, Pluto, and Proserpine.= The search of Ceres for Proserpine, and of Orpheus for Eurydice, are stories pertaining both to Earth and Hades.

=115. =[151] When the giants were imprisoned by Jupiter under Mount Ætna, Pluto (Hades) feared lest the shock of their fall might expose his kingdom to the light of day. Under this apprehension, he mounted his chariot drawn by black horses, and made a circuit of inspection to satisfy himself of the extent of the damage. While he was thus engaged, Venus, who was sitting on Mount Eryx playing with her boy Cupid, espied him and said, "My son, take thy darts which subdue all, even Jove himself, and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of Tartarus. Dost thou not see that even in heaven some despise our power? Minerva and Diana defy us; and there is that daughter of Ceres, goddess of earth, who threatens to follow their example. Now, if thou regardest thine own interest or mine, join these two in one." The boy selected his sharpest and truest arrow, and sped it right to the heart of Pluto.

In the vale of Enna is a lake embowered in woods, where Spring reigns perpetual. Here Proserpine (Persephone) was playing with her companions, gathering lilies and violets, and singing, one may imagine, such words as our poet Shelley puts into her mouth:

Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth, Thou from whose immortal bosom, Gods, and men, and beasts, have birth, Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom, Breathe thine influence most divine On thine own child, Proserpine.

If with mists of evening dew Thou dost nourish these young flowers Till they grow, in scent and hue, Fairest children of the hours, Breathe thine influence most divine On thine own child, Proserpine.[152]

Pluto saw her, loved her, and carried her off. She screamed for help to her mother and her companions; but the ravisher urged on his steeds and outdistanced pursuit. When he reached the river Cyane, it opposed his passage, whereupon he struck the bank with his trident, and the earth opened and gave him a passage to Tartarus.

=116. =[153] Ceres (Demeter) sought her daughter all the world over. Bright-haired Aurora, when she came forth in the morning, and Hesperus, when he led out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in the search. At length, weary and sad, she sat down on a stone, and remained nine days and nights in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and falling showers. It was where now stands the city of Eleusis, near the home of an old man named Celeus. His little girl, pitying the old woman, said to her, "Mother,"--and the name was sweet to the ears of Ceres,--"why sittest thou here alone on the rocks?" The old man begged her to come into his cottage. She declined. He urged her. "Go in peace," she replied, "and be happy in thy daughter; I have lost mine." But their compassion finally prevailed. Ceres rose from the stone and went with them. As they walked, Celeus said that his only son lay sick of a fever.

The goddess stooped and gathered some poppies. Then, entering the cottage, where all was in distress,--for the boy Triptolemus seemed past recovery,--she restored the child to life and health with a kiss. In grateful happiness the family spread the table and put on it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. While they ate, Ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. When night came, she arose and, taking the sleeping boy, molded his limbs with her hands, and uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. His mother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with a cry and snatched the child from the fire. Then Ceres assumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all around. While they were overcome with astonishment, she said, "Mother, thou hast been cruel in thy fondness; for I would have made thy son immortal. Nevertheless, he shall be great and useful.

He shall teach men the use of the plow and the rewards which labor can win from the soil." So saying, she wrapped a cloud about her and mounting her chariot rode away.

Ceres continued her search for her daughter till at length she returned to Sicily, whence she first had set out, and stood by the banks of the river Cyane. The river nymph would have told the goddess all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of Pluto; so she ventured merely to take up the girdle which Proserpine had dropped in her flight, and float it to the feet of the mother. Ceres, seeing this, laid her curse on the innocent earth in which her daughter had disappeared. Then succeeded drought and famine, flood and plague, until, at last, the fountain Arethusa made intercession for the land. For she had seen that it opened only unwillingly to the might of Pluto; and she had also, in her flight from Alpheüs through the lower regions of the earth, beheld the missing Proserpine. She said that the daughter of Ceres seemed sad, but no longer showed alarm in her countenance.

Her look was such as became a queen,--the queen of Erebus; the powerful bride of the monarch of the realms of the dead.

When Ceres heard this, she stood awhile like one stupefied; then she implored Jupiter to interfere to procure the restitution of her daughter. Jupiter consented on condition that Proserpine should not during her stay in the lower world have taken any food; otherwise, the Fates forbade her release. Accordingly, Mercury was sent, accompanied by Spring, to demand Proserpine of Pluto. The wily monarch consented; but alas! the maiden had taken a pomegranate which Pluto offered her, and had sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. A compromise, however, was effected by which she was to pass half the time with her mother, and the rest with the lord of Hades.

Of modern poems on the story of the maiden seized in the vale of Enna, none conveys a lesson more serene of the beauty of that dark lover of all fair life, Death, than the Proserpine of Woodberry, from which we quote the three following stanzas. "I pick," says the poet wandering through the vale of Enna,

I pick the flowers that Proserpine let fall, Sung through the world by every honeyed muse: Wild morning-glories, daisies waving tall, At every step is something new to choose; And oft I stop and gaze On the flowery maze; By yonder cypresses on that soft rise, Scarce seen through poppies and the knee-deep wheat, Juts the dark cleft where on her came the fleet Thunder-black horses and the cloud's surprise And he who filled the place. Did marigolds bright as these, gilding the mist, Drop from her maiden zone? Oh, whence has silence stolen on all things here, Where every sight makes music to the eye? Through all one unison is singing clear; All sounds, all colors in one rapture die. Breathe slow, O heart, breathe slow! O Proserpine, dream not that thou art gone Far from our loves, half-human, half-divine; Thou hast a holier adoration won In many a heart that worships at no shrine. [154]

=117. Triptolemus and the Eleusinian Mysteries.= Ceres, pacified with this arrangement, restored the earth to her favor. Now she remembered, also, Celeus and his family, and her promise to his infant son Triptolemus. She taught the boy the use of the plow and how to sow the seed. She took him in her chariot, drawn by winged dragons, through all the countries of the earth; and under her guidance he imparted to mankind valuable grains and the knowledge of agriculture. After his return Triptolemus built a temple to Ceres in Eleusis and established the worship of the goddess under the name of the Eleusinian mysteries, which in the splendor and solemnity of their observance surpassed all other religious celebrations among the Greeks.

=118. Orpheus and= =Eurydice.=[155] Of mortals who have visited Hades and returned, none has a sweeter or sadder history than Orpheus, son of Apollo and the Muse Calliope. Presented by his father with a lyre and taught to play on it, he became the most famous of musicians, and not only his fellow mortals but even the wild beasts were softened by his strains. The very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. And so also was Eurydice,--whom he loved and won.

From the painting by Lord Leighton]

Hymen was called to bless with his presence the nuptials of Orpheus with Eurydice, but he conveyed no happy omens with him. His torch smoked and brought tears into the eyes. In keeping with such sad prognostics, Eurydice, shortly after her marriage, was seen by the shepherd Aristæus, who was struck with her beauty and made advances to her. As she fled she trod on a snake in the grass, and was bitten in the foot. She died. Orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods and men, and finding his complaint of no avail, resolved to seek his wife in the regions of the dead. He descended by a cave situated on the side of the promontory of Tænarus, and arrived in the Stygian realm. He passed through crowds of ghosts and presented himself before the throne of Pluto and Proserpine. Accompanying his words with the lyre, he sang his petition for his wife. Without her he would not return.

In such tender strains he sang that the very ghosts shed tears. [156] Then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the Furies were wet with tears. Proserpine could not resist and Pluto himself gave way. Eurydice was called. She came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. Orpheus was permitted to take her away with him on condition that he should not turn round to look at her till they should have reached the upper air. Under this condition they proceeded on their way, he leading, she following. Mindful of his promise, without let or hindrance the bard passed through the horrors of hell. On he slept, And Cerberus held agape his triple jaws; On stept the bard. Ixion's wheel stood still. and soul-subdued) Lookt back.

There, Orpheus! Orpheus! there was all Thy labor shed, there burst the Dynast's bond, And thrice arose that rumor from the lake. "Ah, what!" she cried, "what madness hath undone Me! and, ah, wretched! thee, my Orpheus, too! For lo! the cruel Fates recall me now; Chill slumbers press my swimming eyes.... Farewell! Night rolls intense around me as I spread My helpless arms... thine, thine no more... to thee." She spake, and, like a vapor, into air Flew, nor beheld him as he claspt the void And sought to speak; in vain; the ferry-guard Now would not row him o'er the lake again, His wife twice lost, what could he? whither go? What chant, what wailing, move the Powers of Hell? Cold in the Stygian bark and lone was she.

Beneath a rock o'er Strymon's flood on high, Seven months, seven long-continued months, 'tis said, He breath'd his sorrows in a desert cave, And sooth'd the tiger, moved the oak, with song.[157]

The Thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances. Finally, excited by the rites of Bacchus, one of them exclaimed, "See yonder our despiser!" and threw at him her javelin. The weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre, fell harmless at his feet; so also the stones that they threw at him. But the women, raising a scream, drowned the voice of the music, and overwhelmed him with their missiles. Like maniacs they tore him limb from limb; then cast his head and lyre into the river Hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music to which the shores responded. The Muses buried the fragments of his body at Libethra, where the nightingale is said to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of Greece. His lyre was placed by Jupiter among the stars; but the shade of the bard passed a second time to Tartarus and rejoined Eurydice.

Other mortals who visited the Stygian realm and returned were Hercules, Theseus, Ulysses, and Æneas.[158]

FOOTNOTES:

[151] Ovid, Metam. 5, 341-347.

[152] Song of Proserpine, while gathering flowers on the plain of Enna.

[153] Ovid, Metam. 5. 440, 642; Apollodorus, 1, 5, § 2; Hyginus, Fab. 147.

[154] From Proserpine, stanzas written by Lake Pergusa; by George E. Woodberry (Century Magazine, July, 1909).

[155] Ovid, Metam. 10, 1-77.

[156] See Commentary

[157] From W. S. Landor's Orpheus and Eurydice in Dry Sticks.

[158] See Index.

=119. Havets herre.= Neptun (Poseidon) var herre over både saltvann og ferskvann. Mytene som dreier seg om hans liv som havets herre, illustrerer hans trassige invasjoner av land som tilhørte andre guder, eller hans karakter som jordskjelver og jordbeskytter. Av hans strider med andre guder er den med Minerva om Athen allerede blitt fortalt. Han kjempet om Korint med Helios, om Argos med Juno, om Ægina med Jove, om Naxos med Bacchus og om Delfi med Apollon. At han ikke alltid personlig gjorde inngrep i landet han ønsket å eie eller straffe, men i stedet sendte et monster, vil sees i myten om Andromeda[159] og i den følgende historien om Hesione,[160] datteren til Laomedon av Troja.

Neptun og Apollon hadde falt i unåde hos Jupiter etter at gigantene var blitt styrtet. De ble, sies det, tvunget til for en tid å oppgi sine respektive funksjoner og tjene Laomedon, som da var i ferd med å bygge byen Troja. De hjalp kongen med å reise byens murer, men ble nektet den avtalte lønnen. Med rette fornærmet herjet Neptun landet med flommer og sendte mot det et sjøuhyre, for å stille sulten til hvilket den desperate Laomedon ble drevet til å ofre sin datter Hesione. Men Herkules kom til syne, drepte uhyret og reddet jomfruen. Neptun næret imidlertid sin vrede; og den var fremdeles varm da grekerne marsjerte mot Troja.

Av et lignende heftig og ustyrlig sinn var Neptuns sønner med dødelige mødre. Fra ham stammet de ville læstrygonerne, Orion, kyklopen Polyfemos, kjempen Antaios som Herkules drepte, Prokrustes og mange andre fryktede vesener hvis skjebner er fortalt annetsteds.[161]

=120. = Som jordskjelver var dypets hersker kjent for å forårsake naturkatastrofer som fikk Pluto til å hoppe fra sin trone av frykt for at underverdenens himmelhvelv skulle falle ned over ham. Men som gud for elver og kilder viste Neptun mildere trekk. Da Amymone, sendt av sin far Danaos for å hente vann, ble forfulgt av en satyr, hørte Neptun hennes rop om hjelp, gjorde det av med satyren, gjorde kur til jomfruen, og ved å bore jorden med sin trefork fremkalte han kilden som ennå bærer danaidens navn. Han elsket også gudinnen Ceres, gjennom hvis beitemarker hans elver fløt; og gjeterjenta Arne, datter av kong Æolos, med hvem han ble forfar til boioterne. Hans barn, Pelias og Neleus, med prinsessen Tyro, som han fridde til i skikkelse av hennes elsker Enipeus, ble hesteholdere – dyr som var spesielt kjære for Neptun.

Kanskje var det likheten mellom hestetemming og bølgetemming som tiltrakk guden til disse firbeinte dyrene; kanskje fordi de økte i skjønnhet og fart på beitemarkene vannet av hans bekker. Det sies faktisk at den første og raskeste av hester, Arion, var avkom av Neptun og Ceres, eller av Neptun og en furie.

=121. = Til Pelops, bror av Niobe, ga Neptun ferdighet i å trene og kjøre hester – og med god virkning. For det skjedde at Pelops forelsket seg i Hippodameia, datter av Oinomaos, konge av Elis og sønn av Mars – en jente om hvem det ble sagt at ingen kunne vinne henne uten ved å beseire faren i et hesteveddeløp, og at ingen kunne mislykkes i det løpet og komme levende fra det. Siden et orakel også hadde advart Oinomaos om å vokte seg for sin datters framtidige ektemann, hadde han skaffet seg hester hvis fart var som en syklon. Men Pelops, som fikk bevingede hester fra Neptun, deltok i løpet og vant det – om det var på grunn av hestenes fart eller ved hjelp av Hippodameia, som, sies det, bestakk farens vognstyrer, Myrtilos, til å ta ut en bolt av vognen til Oinomaos, er usikkert. I alle fall giftet Pelops seg med Hippodameia. Han var imidlertid så uklok å kaste Myrtilos i havet; og fra det sviket oppsto ulykkene i Pelops' hus.

For Myrtilos forbannet da han døde morderen og hans ætt.

FOTNOTER:

[159] § 154.

[160] Iliaden, 5, 649; Apollodorus, 3, 12, § 7.

[161] Se indeks.

[162] Hyginus, Fab. 84, 253; Pindar, Olymp. 1, 114.

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=122. Myths of Stars and Winds.= The tales of Stars and Winds and the other lesser powers of the celestial regions are closely interwoven. That the winds which sweep heaven should kiss the stars is easy to understand. The stories of Aurora (Eos) and of Aura, of Phosphor and of Halcyone, form, therefore, a ready sequence.

=123. Cephalus and Procris.=[163] Aurora, the goddess of the dawn, fell in love with Cephalus, a young huntsman. She stole him away, lavished her love on him, tried to content him, but in vain. He cared for his young wife Procris more than for the goddess. Finally, Aurora dismissed him in displeasure, saying, "Go, ungrateful mortal, keep thy wife; but thou shalt one day be sorry that thou didst ever see her again."

Cephalus returned and was as happy as before in his wife. She, being a favorite of Diana, had received from her for the chase a dog and a javelin, which she handed over to her husband. Of the dog it is told that when about to catch the swiftest fox in the country, he was changed with his victim into stone. For the heavenly powers, who had made both and rejoiced in the speed of both, were not willing that either should conquer. The javelin was destined to a sad office. It appears that Cephalus, when weary of the chase, was wont to stretch himself in a certain shady nook to enjoy the breeze. Sometimes he would say aloud, "Come, gentle Aura, sweet goddess of the breeze, come and allay the heat that burns me." Some one, foolishly believing that he addressed a maiden, told the secret to Procris. Hoping against hope, she stole out after him the next morning and concealed herself in the place which the informer had indicated.

Cephalus, when tired with sport, stretched himself on the green bank and summoned fair Aura as usual. Suddenly he heard, or thought he heard, a sound as of a sob in the bushes. Supposing it to proceed from some wild animal, he threw his javelin at the spot. A cry told him that the weapon had too surely met its mark. He rushed to the place and raised his wounded Procris from the earth. She, at last, opened her feeble eyes and forced herself to utter these words: "I implore thee, if thou hast ever loved me, if I have ever deserved kindness at thy hands, my husband, grant me this last request; marry not that odious Breeze!" So saying, she expired in her lover's arms.

From the painting by Guido Reni]

=124. Dobson's The Death of= =Procris.= A different version of the story is given in the following:

Procris, the nymph, had wedded Cephalus;-- He, till the spring had warmed to slow-winged days Heavy with June, untired and amorous, Named her his love; but now, in unknown ways, His heart was gone; and evermore his gaze Turned from her own, and even farther ranged His woodland war; while she, in dull amaze, Beholding with the hours her husband changed, Sighed for his lost caress, by some hard god estranged.

So, on a day, she rose and found him not. Alone, with wet, sad eye, she watched the shade Brighten below a soft-rayed sun that shot Arrows of light through all the deep-leaved glade; Then, with weak hands, she knotted up the braid Of her brown hair, and o'er her shoulders cast Her crimson weed; with faltering fingers made Her golden girdle's clasp to join, and past Down to the trackless wood, full pale and overcast.

And all day long her slight spear devious flew, And harmless swerved her arrows from their aim, For ever, as the ivory bow she drew, Before her ran the still unwounded game. Then, at the last, a hunter's cry there came, And, lo! a hart that panted with the chase. Thereat her cheek was lightened as with flame, And swift she gat her to a leafy place, Thinking, "I yet may chance unseen to see his face."

Leaping he went, this hunter Cephalus, Bent in his hand his cornel bow he bare, Supple he was, round-limbed and vigorous, Fleet as his dogs, a lean Laconian pair. He, when he spied the brown of Procris' hair Move in the covert, deeming that apart Some fawn lay hidden, loosed an arrow there; Nor cared to turn and seek the speeded dart, Bounding above the fern, fast following up the hart.

But Procris lay among the white wind-flowers, Shot in the throat. From out the little wound The slow blood drained, as drops in autumn showers Drip from the leaves on the sodden ground. None saw her die but Lelaps, the swift hound, That watched her dumbly with a wistful fear, Till, at the dawn, the hornèd wood-men found And bore her gently on a sylvan bier, To lie beside the sea,--with many an uncouth tear.

=125. Ceyx and Halcyone.= The son of Aurora and Cephalus was Phosphor, the Star of Morning. His son Ceyx, king of Trachis in Thessaly, had married Halcyone, daughter of Æolus.[164] Their reign was happy until the brother of Ceyx met his death. The direful prodigies that followed this event made Ceyx feel that the gods were hostile to him. He thought best therefore to make a voyage to Claros in Ionia to consult the oracle of Apollo. In spite of his wife's entreaties (for as daughter of the god of winds she knew how dreadful a thing a storm at sea was), Ceyx set sail. He was shipwrecked and drowned. His last prayer was that the waves might bear his body to the sight of Halcyone, and that it might receive burial at her hands.

In the meanwhile, Halcyone counted the days till her husband's promised return. To all the gods she offered frequent incense, but more than all to Juno. The goddess, at last, could not bear to be further pleaded with for one already dead. Calling Iris, she enjoined her to approach the drowsy dwelling of Somnus and bid him send a vision to Halcyone in the form of Ceyx, to reveal the sad event.

Iris puts on her robe of many colors, and tinging the sky with her bow, seeks the cave near the Cimmerian country, which is the abode of the dull god, Somnus. Here Ph[oe]bus dare not come. Clouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and the light glimmers faintly. The cock never there calls aloud to Aurora, nor watchdog nor goose disturbs the silence. No wild beast, nor cattle, nor branch moved with the wind, nor sound of human conversation breaks the stillness. From the bottom of the rock the river Lethe flows, and by its murmur invites to sleep. Poppies grow before the door of the cave, from whose juices Night distills slumbers which she scatters over the darkened earth. There is no gate to creak on its hinges, nor any watchman. In the midst, on a couch of black ebony adorned with black plumes and black curtains the god reclines, his limbs relaxed in sleep.

Around him lie dreams, resembling all various forms, as many as the harvest bears stalks, or the forest leaves, or the seashore sand grains.

Brushing away the dreams that hovered around her, Iris lit up the cave and delivered her message to the god, who, scarce opening his eyes, had great difficulty in shaking himself free from himself.

Then Iris hasted away from the drowsiness creeping over her, and returned by her bow as she had come. But Somnus called one of his sons, Morpheus, the most expert in counterfeiting forms of men, to perform the command of Iris; then laid his head on his pillow and yielded himself again to grateful repose.

Morpheus flew on silent wings to the Hæmonian city, where he assumed the form of Ceyx. Pale like a dead man, naked and dripping, he stood before the couch of the wretched wife and told her that the winds of the Ægean had sunk his ship, that he was dead.

Weeping and groaning, Halcyone sprang from sleep and, with the dawn, hastening to the seashore, descried an indistinct object washed to and fro by the waves. As it floated nearer she recognized the body of her husband. In despair, leaping from the mole, she was changed instantly to a bird, and poured forth a song of grief as she flew. By the mercy of the gods Ceyx was likewise transformed. For seven days before and seven days after the winter solstice, Jove forbids the winds to blow. Then Halcyone broods over her nest; then the way is safe to seafarers. Æolus confines the winds that his grandchildren may have peace.

=126. Aurora and Tithonus.=[165] Aurora seems frequently to have been inspired with the love of mortals. Her greatest favorite, and almost her latest, was Tithonus, son of Laomedon, king of Troy. She stole him away and prevailed on Jupiter to grant him immortality; but forgetting to have youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to discern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old. When his hair was white she left his society; but he still had the range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was clad in celestial raiment. In time he lost the power of using his limbs; and then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice might at times be heard. Finally, she turned him into a grasshopper.

=127. Tennyson's Tithonus.= The following is, according to a fine poetic conception, the lament of the old man when but a white-haired shadow:

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapors weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after many a summer dies the swan. Me only cruel immortality Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world, A white-haired shadow roaming like a dream The ever silent spaces of the East, Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn.

Alas! for this gray shadow, once a man-- So glorious in his beauty and thy choice, Who madest him thy chosen, that he seem'd To his great heart none other than a God! I ask'd thee, "Give me immortality." Then didst thou grant mine asking with a smile, Like wealthy men who care not how they give; But thy strong Hours indignant work'd their wills, And beat me down and marr'd and wasted me, And tho' they could not end me, left me maim'd To dwell in presence of immortal youth, Immortal age beside immortal youth, And all I was, in ashes. Can thy love, Thy beauty, make amends, tho' even now, Close over us, the silver star, thy guide, Shines in those tremulous eyes that fill with tears To hear me? Let me go: take back thy gift: Why should a man desire in any way To vary from the kindly race of men, Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance Where all should pause, as is most meet for all?

A soft air fans the cloud apart; there comes A glimpse of that dark world where I was born. Once more the old mysterious glimmer steals From thy pure brows, and from thy shoulders pure, And bosom beating with a heart renew'd. Thy cheek begins to redden thro' the gloom, Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to mine, Ere yet they blind the stars, and the wild team Which love thee, yearning for thy yoke, arise, And shake the darkness from their loosen'd manes, And beat the twilight into flakes of fire.

Lo! ever thus thou growest beautiful In silence, then before thine answer given Departest, and thy tears are on my cheek. Why wilt them ever scare me with thy tears, And make me tremble lest a saying learnt In days far-off, on that dark earth, be true? "The gods themselves cannot recall their gifts."

Ay me! ay me! with what another heart In days far-off, and with what other eyes I used to watch--if I be he that watched-- The lucid outline forming round thee; saw The dim curls kindle into sunny rings; Changed with thy mystic change, and felt my blood Glow with the glow that slowly crimson'd all Thy presence and thy portals, while I lay, Mouth, forehead, eyelids, growing dewy-warm With kisses balmier than half-opening buds Of April, and could hear the lips that kiss'd Whispering I knew not what of wild and sweet, Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing, While Ilion like a mist rose into towers.

Yet hold me not forever in thine East: How can my nature longer mix with thine? Coldly thy rosy shadows bathe me, cold Are all thy lights, and cold my wrinkled feet On thy glimmering thresholds, when the steam Floats up from those dim fields about the homes Of happy men that have the power to die, And grassy barrows of the happier dead. Release me, and restore me to the ground; Thou seëst all things, thou wilt see my grave: Thou wilt renew thy beauty morn by morn; I earth in earth forget these empty courts, And thee returning on thy silver wheels.

=128. Memnon=, the son of Aurora and Tithonus, was king of the Æthiopians. He went with warriors to assist his kindred in the Trojan War, and was received by King Priam with honor. He fought bravely, slew Antilochus, the brave son of Nestor, and held the Greeks at bay until Achilles appeared. Before that hero he fell.

Then Aurora, seeing her son's fate, directed his brothers, the Winds, to convey his body to the banks of the river Æsepus in Mysia. In the evening Aurora, accompanied by the Hours and the Pleiads, bewept her son. Night spread the heaven with clouds; all nature mourned for the offspring of the Dawn. The Æthiopians raised his tomb on the banks of the stream in the grove of the Nymphs, and Jupiter caused the sparks and cinders of his funeral pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing into two flocks, fought over the pile till they fell into the flame. Every year at the anniversary of his death they celebrated his obsequies in like manner. Aurora remained inconsolable. The dewdrops are her tears.[166]

The kinship of Memnon to the Dawn is certified even after his death. On the banks of the Nile are two colossal statues, one of which is called Memnon's; and it was said that when the first rays of morning fell on this statue, a sound like the snapping of a harp-string issued therefrom.[167]

So to the sacred Sun in Memnon's fane Spontaneous concords choired the matin strain; Touched by his orient beam responsive rings The living lyre and vibrates all its strings; Accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, And holy echoes swell the adoring song.[168]

FOOTNOTES:

[163] Ovid, Metam. 7, 394 et seq.

[164] Ovid, Metam. 11, 583-748.

[165] Homeric Hymn to Venus; Horace, Odes, 1, 22; 2, 16; Apollodorus, 3, 12, § 4.

[166] Ovid, Metam. 13, 622, etc. Odyssey, 4, 188; 11, 522. Pindar, Pyth. 6, 30.

[167] Pausanias, 1, 42, § 2.

[168] Darwin, Botanic Garden.

=129. Pan, og personifiseringen av naturen.= Det var et tiltalende trekk ved den gamle hedendommen at den elsket å spore en guddoms virke i hvert eneste naturfenomen. Grekernes fantasi befolket jordens og havets regioner med guddommer, og tilskrev disse de fenomenene som vår filosofi forklarer som naturlovens virkning. Slik ble Pan, skogenes og markenes gud,[169] hvis navn syntes å bety alt, betraktet som et symbol på universet og en personifisering av naturen. "Den universelle Pan," sier Milton i sin beskrivelse av skapelsen:

Den universelle Pan, Forent med Gratiene og Timene i dans, Ledet den evige vår.

Senere kom Pan til å bli sett på som en representant for alle de greske gudene og for hedendommen selv. Ja, ifølge en gammel kristen tradisjon, da den himmelske hærskaren forkynte for hyrdene Kristi fødsel, fortalte et dypt stønn, hørt gjennom Hellas' øyer, at den store Pan var død, at Olympenes dynasti var styrtet, og de forskjellige guddommene sendt vandrende i kulde og mørke.

De ensomme fjell der oppe, Og den gjenlydende strand, En gråtende røst hørtes og høylytt klage; Fra hjemsøkte kilder og daler, Kantet med blek poppel, Sendes den avskjedtagende Genius med sukk; Med blomsterflettede lokker revet, Sørger nymfene i tusmørkeskygge av flokete kratt.[170]

Mangen dikter har begrått denne endringen. For selv om forstanden for en tid tjente på opprøret mot naturens guddommelige forrett, er det mer enn mulig at hjertet tapte i tilsvarende grad.

Sin sorg over dette tapet av fantasifull sympati hos de moderne uttrykker Wordsworth i sonetten, allerede sitert, som begynner med "Verden er for meget med oss." Schiller har også, med sitt dikt Gudene i Hellas, udødeliggjort sin sorg over den gamle mytologiens forfall.

Å, den fagre verden mens I ennå styrte den, – Ennå – ved gledesberøringer av hånden; Å, de glade hjerter som I ennå regjerte, Skjønnhetens guder, I fra Fabel-land! Da, å da, seiret mysteriene Strålende. – Annerledes var det da, mener jeg, Når deres helligdommer duftet av kranser, Du, Amathus' dronning.

Da falt det elskverdige slør, vevd av fantasi, I folder om det uskjønne faktum; Gjennom universet fløt livet i fylde, Det vi nå ikke føler ble følt i sannhet: Mannen tilskrev naturen adel, Gav kjærlighet til jorden han trådte på, Overalt så hans øye, opplyst, Fotsporene av en gud. Fagre verden, hvor er du? Vend, å vend tilbake, Fagreste blomstringstid av naturens vår! Bare i dikterens underens rike Lever du ennå, – en fabel som svinner hen. Berøvet liv ligger engene øde; Ei en guddom kan min fantasi se: Å, om bare av disse levende farger Spøkelset ennå ble hos meg![171]

Det var diktet disse strofene er hentet fra, som fremkalte det velkjente svaret fra Elizabeth Barrett Browning, inneholdt i Den døde Pan. Hennes argument kan utledes av de følgende strofene:

Ved deres skjønnhet som bekjenner En overordnet Skjønnhet som overvinner dere, Ved våre storartede heroiske gjetninger Gjennom deres usannhet mot det Sanne, Vil vi ikke gråte! Jorden skal rulle Arving til hver guds glorie, Og Pan er død.

Jorden vokser fra de mytiske innfall Som ble sunget ved hennes side i hennes ungdom; Og disse elegante romansene Klinger bare matt ved siden av sannheten. Ph[oe]bus' vognløp er fullført! Se opp, diktere, mot solen! Pan, Pan er død.

=130. Stedmans Pan på Wall Street.=[172] At Pan imidlertid ennå ikke er død, men lever selv i vår vestlige verdens praktiske atmosfære, indikerer diktet nedenfor, skrevet av en av våre nylig avdøde amerikanske diktere.

Akkurat der Skattkammerets marmorfasade Ser ut over Wall Streets blandede nasjoner; Der jøder og hedninger helst pleier Å strømme til for handel og siste noteringer; Der, time for time, gullkursene Overgår, i folks ører, Kvartertimespillene, rolig slått Fra Treenighetskirkens uforsagte tårn, –

Nettopp der hørte jeg en merkelig, vill melodi Klinge høyt over den moderne larmen, Over ropene om grådighet og gevinst, Fortauskrigen, auksjonarius' hammer; Og raskt, på musikkens disige veier, Ledet den, fra all denne striden om millioner, Til gamle, søte-gjøre-ingenting-dager Blant de kjortelkledde sicilianerne.

Og mens den stilnet mengden, Og enda mer gledesfylt steg, og skarpere, Så jeg skalden der han sto Makelig mot en dorisk søyle: Én hånd spilte et summende orgel, Den andre holdt en Pans fløyte (formet Som de fra gamle dager) mot lepper som fikk Rørene til å gi fra seg den lidenskapelige melodien.

Det var Pan selv som hadde vandret hit, Spaserende gjennom den usle byen, Og spilte for det borgerlige øret Opptakten til en eller annen pastoral vise! Halvguden hadde krysset havene, – Fra tilholdsstedene til hyrder, nymfer og satyrer, Og syracusanske tider, – til disse Fjerne kyster og tjue århundrer senere.

En fillete lue var på hodet hans: Men – skjult slik – var det ingen tvil om At, helt dekket av krusete lokker, Hans knudrete horn var i ferd med å spire et sted; Hans klumpføtter, innhyllet i rustne sko, Var krysset, slik du ser dem på en frise, Og bukser, lappet i forskjellige farger, Skjulte hans krokte legger under dem.

Han fylte de skjelvende rørene med lyd, Og over munnen hans skiftet deres toner, Og med geiteøynene så han seg om Overalt hvor den passerende strømmen drev; Og snart, som på Trinacrias åser Nymfene og gjeterne løp for å høre ham, Samlet nå handelsmennene seg fra kassaapparatene sine, Med kontorister og bærere, tett rundt ham.

Oksene og bjørnene trakk sammen Fra Jauncey Court og New Street Alley, Likesom fordum, hvis pastoralene taler sant, Kom dyr fra hver skogkledd dal; De tilfeldig forbipasserende stanset for å lytte, – En bokser Ægon, røff og lystig, – Broadway Daphnis, på stevnemøte Med Naïs ved ferjen til Brooklyn.

En enøyd Kyklop stanset lenge I fillete kappe av hærmønster, Og Galatea sluttet seg til mengden, – En rødmusset, epleselgende slask; Mens gamle Silenus ravet ut Fra et eller annet nymotens lunsjsted i nærheten Og ba fløytespilleren, med et rop, Om å spille "Yankee Doodle Dandy!"

En avisgutt og en peanøttjente Begynte, som små Fauner, å hoppe og danse; Håret hans var i en eneste flokete krøll, Hennes gulbrune ben var nakne og slanke. Og stadig vokste forsamlingen seg større, Og gav sine pence og trengte seg nærmere, Mens gjeter-skalden stadig blåste Sin fløyte, og slo tonestigen høyere.

O naturens hjerte! som stadig banker Med slag dens vårlige lidenskap lærte den, – Selv her, som på den vinranke-dekkede åsen, Eller ved det arethusanske vann! Nye former kan hylle inn talen, nye land Oppstå innenfor disse hav-portalene, Men Musikk svinger evige tryllestaver, – Fortryllerske for de dødeliges sjeler!

Slik tenkte jeg, – men blant oss trådte En mann i blått med lovens kølle; Og hånte den omvandrende halvguden, Og dyttet ham bort fra trinnet jeg satt på. Tvilende grunnet jeg på ropet – "Store Pan er død!" – og alt folket Gikk videre sin vei: – og klart og høyt Klokkespillet lød fra tårnet.

=131. Andre mindre jordguder.= I selskapet av de mindre jordgudene, foruten Pan, var Silenene, Sylvanene, Faunene og Satyrene, alle mannlige; Oreadene og Dryadene eller Hamadryadene, kvinnelige. Til disse kan legges Najadene, for selv om de bodde i bekker, var deres tilknytning til jordens guddommer nær. Av nymfene var Oreadene og Najadene udødelige. Pans kjærlighet til Syrinx er allerede nevnt, og hans musikalske kappestrid med Apollon. Av Silenus har vi sett noe i Bacchus' eventyr. Hva slags tilværelse Satyren nøt, formidles i den følgende monologen:

Stammen på dette treet, Mørkebladet, bustete rot, Er en pute velegnet For en krysning som meg, Geiteskjegget, geitefot; For grenene i gressgangen Møtes over meg, og kaster En kjølig, behagelig skygge På grønnskapen nedenfor; Mørke og brune Lukker bladene seg helt omkring; Og likevel, hele tiden, Gjennom grenene kan jeg se En stjerne, med et smil, Ser på meg ...

Hvorfor, hele dagen lang, Løper jeg omkring Med en villstyring av en flokk, Og ler og roper. Silenus griper Ørene mine, og rir På de raggete hoftene mine, Og opp og ned I en eføykrone Rir han beruset; Og når han i døs Lukker øyelokkene, Detter han av, og jeg Kan stjele vinsekken hans, Jeg drikker – og føler Gresset rulle – sjøhøyt; Så med rop og hyl, Ned mosegrodde dalsøkk, Raver jeg etter De skogløpende nymfene, Som med spottende latter Og smil trekker seg tilbake; Og akkurat når jeg griper En myk midje, Med et omfavnelsesskrik, – Susj! smelter den fra grepet mitt Til kjølig vann, Og – boble! bryderi! Ser dobbelt! Jeg snubler og gisper I et eller annet iskaldt tjern![173]

=132. Ekko og Narcissus.=[174] Ekko var en vakker Oread, glad i skoger og åser, en yndling av Diana, som hun ledsaget på jakt. Men på grunn av skravlingen sin falt hun i unåde hos Juno, som dømte henne til å miste stemmen unntatt for å kunne svare.

Siden hun deretter forelsket seg i Narcissus, den vakre sønnen til elveguden Cephissus, fant Ekko det umulig å uttrykke sin hengivenhet for ham på noen annen måte enn ved å etterligne det han sa; og det han sa, formidlet dessverre ikke alltid hennes følelser. Men da han en gang ropte over åsene til henne: "La oss forene oss," skyndte jomfruen seg, idet hun svarte av hele sitt hjerte, til stedet, klar til å kaste armene om halsen hans. Han rygget tilbake og utbrøt: "Vekk med hendene! Jeg ville heller dø enn at du skulle få meg!" "Få meg," sa hun; men forgjeves. Fra den tid av levde hun i huler og blant fjellskrenter, og visnet bort til det ikke var noe igjen av henne uten stemmen. Men gjennom hans videre skjebne forble hun trofast mot sin grusomme elsker.

Denne Narcissus var selve innbegrepet av selvgodhet. Han skydde resten av nymfene slik han hadde skydd Ekko. Én jomfru uttalte imidlertid en bønn om at han en gang måtte få føle hvordan det var å elske og ikke møte noen gjengjeldelse av følelsene. Den hevnende gudinnen hørte det. Narcissus, som bøyde seg over en elvebredd, forelsket seg i sitt eget speilbilde i vannet. Han snakket til det, prøvde å omfavne det, vansmektet for det og tæret bort til han døde. Ja, selv etter døden sies det at da hans skygge passerte den stygiske elven, lente den seg over båten for å fange et glimt av seg selv i vannet. Nymfene sørget over Narcissus, særlig vann-nymfene; og da de slo seg for brystet, slo Ekko også sitt. De forberedte et likbål og ville ha brent kroppen, men den var ingensteds å finne. I stedet hadde det spiret opp en blomst, purpur inni og omgitt av hvite blader, som bærer navnet og bevarer minnet om Cephissus' sønn.

=133. Ekko, Pan, Lyde og Satyren.= En annen interessant episode i Ekkos liv er gitt av Moschos:[175]

Pan elsket sin nabo Ekko; Ekko elsket En leken Satyr; han, uberørt av henne, Elsket bare Lyde; slik gikk Kjærligheten sin sirkel Gjennom Ekko, Pan, Lyde og Satyren. Slik ble alle, mens de sørget over sine sanne elskeres hjerter, Foraktet etter tur, og mottok det de gav. O alle kjærlighetens spottere, lær denne sanne lekse: Vær vennlig mot kjærligheten, så den kan være vennlig mot dere.

=134. Najadene.= Disse nymfene voktet bekker og ferskvannskilder og, slik som Najaden som taler i de følgende versene, holdt dem hellige for Diana eller en annen guddom.

Hvitarmede Diana har gitt meg denne kjølige helligdommen Dypt inne i en furuskog: De sølvglitrende skurene Som huser meg, blomstene Som pryder min kildes rand, er hennes og mine; Og når dagene er milde og vakre, Og gresset spirer, knoppene blomstrer, Er det søtt, midt i rennende vann, Å sitte her og ikke kjenne sorg, Midt i vann som renner, renner, renner, Og gre mitt gule, gule hår.

Gaupa og panteren nedover fjellsiden Kryper gjennom mørk grønnhet i kveldingen; Og ved kildens bredd Drikker de, mens de kaster store skygger, Og stirrer på meg, tamme og safirøyde; For, ærefryktige for mitt bleke ansikt, hvis lys Skimter gjennom siv og gule liljer, Skader de, idet de lepjer ved min fyldige kilde, Ikke lammet som i frykt Kaster i dammen så fyldig, fyldig, fyldig, Sin lille, mørkehvit skygge.

Ofte kommer faunene og satyrene, oppglødde av lek, Til min kjølighet i den varme middagstimen. Ja, en gang, sverger jeg Ved Dianas sannferdige panne, Passerte selveste den store guden Pan denne veien, Og, kledd i festlig eikeløv, La sine lemmer blant disse liljene, Så på de sølvklare vannene som rant, Lyttet til deres glade musikk, Så og hørte dem renne, renne, renne, Og akk! ansiktet hans var herjet og trist!

Milde gleder som sølvklare vann faller; Men det er søtest, søtest av alt, I den stille sommernatten, Når trekronene ser hvite ut, Å stige opp i dugg på Dianas kall, Å bevege seg mellom mine søsterskyer Over mørket som formørker jorden, Melkehvit kledd gjennom himmelen svømmende, Flytende rundt stjernene der oppe, Svømmende stolt, svømmende stolt, svømmende, Og vente på Månen jeg elsker.

Så ømt vokter jeg denne kjølige, grønne helligdommen, Dypt inne i en furuskog; Trofast gjennom skygge og sol, Så den tjenesten, ytet og utført, Kanskje kan fortjene meg en guddommelig plass Blant de hvitkledde guddommene Som trer gjennom stjernefulle stier, ledsagende Min søte Frue, rolig vandrende Gjennom himlenes stillhet, Skiftende i skjønnhetens nyanser uten ende, Drikkende lyset fra Dianas øyne.[176]

=135. Dryadene=, eller =Hamadryadene=, antok til tider skikkelse av bondejenter, hyrdinner eller deltakere i jakten. Men de ble antatt å gå til grunne sammen med visse trær som hadde vært deres bolig og som de var blitt til sammen med. Å ødelegge et tre av ond vilje var derfor en ugudelig handling, som noen ganger ble strengt straffet, som i tilfellene med Erysichthon og Dryope.

=136. Erysichthon=,[177] en forakter av gudene, våget å skjende med øks en lund helliget Ceres. En ærverdig eik, hvorpå votivtavler ofte var blitt hengt, innskrevet med dødeliges takknemlighet til treets nymfe – en eik som Dryadene hånd i hånd ofte hadde danset rundt –, beordret han sine tjenere å felle. Da han så dem nøle, rev han en øks fra en, og skrøt av at han ikke brydde seg om det var et tre elsket av gudinnen eller ikke, gikk han løs på oppgaven. Eiken syntes å skjelve og utstøte et stønn. Da det første slaget falt på stammen, fløt det blod fra såret. Advart av en tilskuer om å avstå, drepte Erysichthon ham; advart av en stemme fra treets nymfe, fordoblet han sine slag og felte eiken. Dryadene påkalte straff over Erysichthon.

Gudinnen Ceres, som de hadde bønnfalt, nikket samtykkende. Hun sendte en Oread til det isdekkede Skytia, hvor Kulden bor, og Frykten og Skjelvingen og Hungersnøden. Ved Kaukasus-fjellet stanset Oreaden Ceres' drager som trakk vognen hennes; for langt borte så hun Hungersnøden, utmattet av sult, rykke opp med tenner og klør det sparsomme gresset fra en steinete mark. Til henne overbragte nymfen Ceres' befalinger, og vendte deretter i hast tilbake til Thessalia, for hun begynte selv å bli sulten.

Ceres' ordre ble utført av Hungersnøden, som, ilende gjennom luften, trengte inn i Erysichthons bolig og, mens han sov, omsluttet ham med vingene sine og åndet seg inn i ham. I drømmene sine higet uslingen etter mat; og da han våknet, raste sulten hans. Jo mer han spiste, desto mer higet han, inntil han, i mangel på penger, solgte sin datter til slaveri for spiselige ting. Neptun reddet imidlertid jenta ved å forvandle henne til en fisker; og i den skikkelsen forsikret hun slaveeieren om at hun ikke hadde sett noen kvinne eller annen person, utenom seg selv, i nærheten. Deretter gjenopptok hun sitt eget utseende, og ble igjen og igjen solgt av sin far; mens hun ved Neptuns gunst hver gang ble et annet dyr, og slik gjenvunnet hun hjemmet sitt. Til slutt tvang de økende sultkravene faren til å fortære sine egne lemmer; og med tiden gjorde han det av med seg selv.

=137. Dryope=, hustruen til Andræmon, som sammen med sin søster Iole aktet å samle blomster til nymfenes altre, plukket de purpurfargede blomstene av en lotusplante som vokste nær vannet, og tilbød dem til barnet sitt. Iole, i ferd med å gjøre det samme, merket at plantens stengel blødde. Planten var nemlig ingen annen enn en nymfe, Lotis, som, på flukt fra en lumpen forfølger, var blitt forvandlet slik.

Dryope ville ha skyndt seg bort fra stedet, men nymfens mishag var kommet over henne. Mens hun bedyret sin uskyld, begynte hun å sette grener og blader. Idet hun bønnfalt sin mann om å påse at ingen vold ble gjort mot henne, om å minne barnet deres om at hver blomst eller busk kunne være en forkledt gudinne, om å bringe ham ofte for å ammes under grenene hennes, og å lære ham å si: "Min mor ligger skjult under denne barken," – antok den ulykkelige kvinnen skikkelse av en lotus.

=138. Rh[oe]cus.=[178] Hamadryadene kunne påskjønne tjenester like så vel som straffe forurettelser.

Hør nå dette eventyrlige sagnet fra gamle Hellas, Like fullt av frihet, ungdom og skjønnhet ennå Som den udødelige friskheten til den ynden Hugget for alle tidsaldre på en attisk frise.[179]

Rh[oe]cus, som tilfeldigvis fikk se en eik som var like ved å falle, støttet den opp. Nymfen, som var på nippet til å gå til grunne med treet, uttrykte sin takknemlighet til ham og bad ham be om hvilken belønning han ville. Rh[oe]cus ba henne dristig om hennes kjærlighet, og nymfen gav etter for hans ønske. Samtidig som hun formante ham til å være omtenksom og trofast, lovet hun å vente ham en time før solnedgang og imens å kommunisere med ham ved hjelp av sin budbringer – en bie:

Nå, i de dager med enkelhet og tro, Trodde ikke menn at lykkelige ting var drømmer Fordi de overskred sannsynlighetens snevre grense, Men aktet ærbødig Intet for vidunderlig eller for vakkert Til å være belønningen for et djervt hjerte. Så Rh[oe]cus tvilte ikke på at han var velsignet, Og hele veien til byporten Syntes jorden å springe under ham mens han gikk, Den klare, vide himmelen så blåere ut enn den pleide, Og han kunne knapt tro at han ikke hadde vinger, Slik solskinn syntes å glitre gjennom årene hans I stedet for blod, så lett og underlig følte han seg.

Men dagen var over sin middag. Idet han sluttet seg til noen kamerater over terningene, glemte Rh[oe]cus alt annet. En bie summet om øret hans. Utålmodig feide han den til side:

Så fløy den sårede bien gjennom vinduet, Og Rh[oe]cus, som fulgte den med sinte øyne, Så en spiss fjelltopp i Thessalia Mot den røde skiven til den nedgående sol, – Og straks sank blodet fra hjertet hans.....

Helt utmattet og andpusten nådde han treet, Og, lyttende fryktsomt, hørte han enda en gang Den lave stemmen mumle: "Rh[oe]cus!" like i nærheten: Hvorpå han så seg omkring, men kunne bare se Intet annet enn de tiltakende mørket under eiken. Da sukket stemmen: "O Rh[oe]cus! aldri mer Skal du skue meg, verken dag eller natt, Meg, som gjerne ville ha velsignet deg med en kjærlighet Mer moden og gavmild enn noensinne Fylte noe dødelig hjerte med nektar: Men du foraktet min ydmyke budbringer Og sendte ham tilbake til meg med forslåtte vinger. Vi ånder viser oss bare for milde øyne, Vi krever alltid en udelt kjærlighet, Og den som forakter det minste av naturens verker Blir fra da av forvist og utestengt fra alt. Farvel! for du kan aldri se meg mer."

Så slo Rh[oe]cus seg for brystet og stønnet høyt, Og ropte: "Vær barmhjertig! tilgi meg ennå Denne ene gang, og jeg skal aldri trenge det mer!" "Akk!" svarte stemmen, "det er du som er blind, Ikke jeg ubarmhjertig; jeg kan tilgi, Men har ingen evne til å helbrede din ånds øyne; Bare sjelen har makt over seg selv." Med det mumlet det igjen: "Aldri mer!" Og Rh[oe]cus hørte etterpå ingen annen lyd, Unntatt raslingen av eikens sprø blader, Som den lange brenningen på en fjern kyst, Som raker de sjøslitte steinene opp og ned. Natten hadde samlet seg om ham: over sletten Gnistret byen med sine tusen lys, Og lyd av svir falt på øret hans Hårdt og som en forbannelse; over, himmelen, Med all sin strålende stjerneprakt, Ble dypere, og på pannen hans slo brisen: Skjønnhet var overalt om ham og fryd, Men fra den kvelden var han alene på jorden.

Ifølge den eldre tradisjonen fratok nymfen Rh[oe]cus hans fysiske syn; men den overlegne innsikten i Lowells tolkning er tydelig.

=139. Pomona og Vertumnus.=[180] Pomona var en Hamadryade fra romersk mytologi, særlig vokter av eplehagene, men rådet også over andre frukter. "Bær meg, Pomona," synger en av våre diktere, –

Bær meg, Pomona, til dine sitronlunder, Til der sitronen og den gjennomtrengende lime, Med den dype appelsin, glødende gjennom det grønne, Blander sine lettere prakter. Legg meg tilbakelent Under den spredte tamarinden som rister, Viftet av brisen, sin feberkjølende frukt.[181]

Denne nymfen hadde foraktet friertilbudene som Pan, Sylvanus og utallige Fauner og Satyrer kom med. Vertumnus, også, hadde hun gang på gang avvist. Men han, hagenes og de skiftende årstiders guddom, utrettelig, fridde til henne i like mange forkledninger som hans årstider selv kunne ikle seg. Snart som kornskjærer, snart som høyslåttemann, snart som plogmann, snart som vingårdsmann, snart som epleplukker, snart som fisker, snart som soldat – alt til ingen nytte. Til slutt kom han til henne som en gammel kvinne, beundret frukten hennes, beundret særlig frodigheten til druene hennes, utbredte seg om avhengigheten til den frodige vinranken rett ved, av almen som den klamret seg til; rådet Pomona, på samme måte, til å velge seg en yngling – si, for eksempel den unge Vertumnus – å slynge sine armer om.

Så fortalte han hvordan den verdige Ifis, forsmådd av Anaxarete, hadde hengt seg på portstolpen hennes; og hvordan gudene hadde forvandlet den hardhjertede jomfruen til stein nettopp mens hun stirret på sin elskers likferd. "Overvei disse ting, kjæreste barn," sa den tilsynelatende gamle kvinnen, "legg bort din forakt og dine utsettelser, og ta imot en frier. Måtte slik verken vårfrosten ødelegge dine unge frukter, eller rasende vinder spre blomstene dine!"

Da Vertumnus hadde talt slik, lot han forkledningen falle og sto foran Pomona i sin egen person – en tiltalende yngling. Slik friing kunne selvsagt ikke unngå å vinne sin rettmessige belønning.

=140. Ibycus' traner.=[182] Furiene, også kalt Diræ (de fryktelige), Erinyer (forfølgerne, eller de vrede), og til slutt, som en eufemisme, Eumenider (de velmenende), skjønt de var underverdenens ånder, gjestet jorden for å straffe barns ulydighet, ærefrykt for alderdom, mened, mord, svik mot gjester, ja til og med uvennlighet mot tiggere. De hevnet sjelene til slike som, døende voldsomme dødsfall, ikke hadde noen representanter på jord, verken ved lov eller slekt, til å hevne dem. Derfor, som vi skal se, forfulgte de Orestes, som hadde drept sin mor. Derfor, som samvittighetens anklagende stemme, førte de Ibycus' mordere til straff.

Denne dikteren, elsket av Apollon, ble, mens han var på reise til den musikalske kappestriden ved Isthmos i Korint, overfalt av to røvere i Korints lund viet Neptun. Overmannet av dem, overgav han sin sak idet han falt til en flokk traner som tilfeldigvis skrek hest over ham. Men da liket hans ble funnet, krevde hele Hellas, som da var samlet til festivalen, hevn over morderen.

Like etter satt den veldige forsamlingen i amfiteatret og lyttet til et skuespill der Koret fremstilte Furiene. Korsangerne, kledd i svart, bar i sine kjøttløse hender fakler flammende med bekflamme. Fremskridende med avmålte skritt, dannet de rekker i orkesteret. Kinnene deres var blodløse, og i stedet for hår buktet slanger seg rundt pannen deres. Idet de dannet en sirkel, sang disse fryktelige vesenene sin hymne. Høyt svulmet den, overdøvende lyden av instrumentene:

"Lykkelig den mann hvis hjerte er rent for skyld og forbrytelse! Ham rører vi hevnere ikke; han går livets sti trygg for oss. Men ve! ve! ham som har begått den hemmelige morddåd. Vi, nattens skrekkelige avkom, fester oss til ham, sjel og kropp. Tror han ved flukt å unnslippe oss? Flyr vi enda raskere i forfølgelse, tvinner våre slanger om føttene hans og bringer ham til jorden. Utrettelige forfølger vi; ingen medlidenhet stanser vår kurs; stadig videre, stadig videre til livets ende, gir vi ingen fred, ingen ro."

Stillhet som dødens stillhet la seg over forsamlingen. Plutselig brøt et skrik ut fra en av de øverste benkene: "Se, kamerat, Ibycus' hevnere!" En flokk traner krysset himmelen. "Morderen har røpet seg selv," ropte forsamlingen. Slutningen var riktig. Forbryterne, straks grepet, tilsto forbrytelsen og led straffen.

FOTNOTER:

[169] Hans navn er ikke avledet av det greske p[=a]n, alt, men fra roten p[)a], å fø, å beite (dvs. buskapen og hjordene).

[170] Milton, Hymne ved fødselen.

[171] Oversatt av C. M. Gayley.

[172] Av Edmund Clarence Stedman.

[173] Fra Satyren, av Robert Buchanan.

[174] Ovid, Metam. 3, 339-510.

[175] Idyl VI (Langs oversettelse). For Moschos, se Kommentar, § 298.

[176] Fra Najaden, av Robert Buchanan.

[177] Ovid, Metam. 8, 738-884.

[178] Se note (Skholium) til Apollonius' Argonautika, B 477. Keils utgave, s. 415, l. 32.

[179] J. R. Lowell, Rh[oe]cus. Studenten bør lese hele diktet.

[180] Ovid, Metam. 14, 623-771.

[181] Thomson, Årstidene.

[182] Jf. Cicero, Tusculanske samtaler, 4. 33, 71; og Statius, Silvæ, 5. 3, 152.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

=141. Galatea and Polyphemus.= The water-gods may be roughly classed as dwellers in the sea and dwellers in the streams. Of the former, daughters of Nereus and Doris, none was fairer than Galatea, sister of Amphitrite and Thetis. She loved Acis, the son of Faunus by a Naiad, and was loved in return; but her happiness was disturbed and finally ruined by the persistent and jealous attentions of the Cyclops Polyphemus.

For the first time in his life the Cyclops began to care for his appearance; he harrowed his coarse locks with a currycomb, mowed his beard with a sickle, and, looking into the sea when it was calm, soliloquized, "Beautiful seems my beard, beautiful my one eye,--as I count beauty,--and the sea reflects the gleam of my teeth whiter than the Parian stone."[183]... He loved, not with apples, not roses, nor locks of hair, but with fatal frenzy; and all things else he held but trifles by the way. Many a time from the green pastures would his ewes stray back, self-shepherded, to the fold. But he was singing of Galatea; and pining in his place, he sat by the seaweed of the beach from the dawn of day with the direst hurt beneath his breast of mighty Cypris' sending,--the wound of her arrow in his heart!

Yet this remedy he found, and sitting on the crest of the tall cliff and looking to the deep, 'twas thus he would sing:

"Oh, milk-white Galatea, why cast off him that loves thee? More white than is pressed milk to look on, more delicate than the lamb art thou, than the young calf wantoner, more sleek than the unripened grape! Here dost thou resort, even so, when sweet sleep possesses me, and home straightway dost thou depart when sweet sleep lets me go, fleeing me like an ewe that has seen the gray wolf. I fell in love with thee, maiden, I, on the day when first thou camest, with my mother, and didst wish to pluck the hyacinths from the hill, and I was thy guide on the way. But to leave loving thee when once I had seen thee, neither afterward, nor now at all, have I the strength, even from that hour. But to thee all this is as nothing, by Zeus, nay, nothing at all!

"I know, thou gracious maiden, why it is that thou dost shun me. It is all for the shaggy brow that spans my forehead, from this to the other ear, one long, unbroken eyebrow. And but one eye is on my forehead, and broad is the nose that overhangs my lip. Yet I (even such as thou seest me) feed a thousand cattle, and from these I draw and drink the best milk in the world. And cheese I never lack, in summer time or autumn, nay, nor in the dead of winter, but my baskets are always overladen.

"Also I am skilled in piping, as none other of the Cyclopes here, and of thee, my love, my sweet apple, and of myself, too, I sing, many a time, deep in the night. And for thee I tend eleven fawns, all crescent browed, and four young whelps of the bear. Nay, come thou to me and thou shalt lack nothing that now thou hast....

"But if thou dost refuse because my body seems shaggy and rough, well, I have faggots of oak-wood, and beneath the ashes is fire unwearied, and I would endure to let thee burn my very soul, and this my one eye, the dearest thing that is mine.

"Ah me, that my mother bore me not a finny thing, so would I have gone down to thee, and kissed thy hand, if thy lips thou would not suffer me to kiss! And I would have brought thee either white lilies or the soft poppy with its scarlet petals. Nay, these are summer's flowers, and those are flowers of winter, so I could not have brought thee them all at one time.

"Now, verily, maiden, now and here will I learn to swim, if perchance some stranger come hither, sailing with his ship, that I may see why it is so dear to thee to have thy dwelling in the deep. Come forth, Galatea, and forget as thou comest, even as I that sit here have forgotten, the homeward way!...

"Oh, Cyclops, Cyclops, whither are thy wits wandering? Ah, that thou wouldst go and weave thy wickerwork and gather broken boughs to carry to thy lambs: in faith, if thou didst this, far wiser wouldst thou be!

"Milk the ewe that thou hast; why pursue the thing that shuns thee? Thou wilt find, perchance, another, and a fairer, Galatea. Many be the girls that bid me stay with them, and softly they all laugh, if perchance I answer them. On land it is plain that I, too, seem to be somebody!"[184]

Having, one day, in such wise sung, Polyphemus wandered, beside himself for passion, into the woods. On a sudden he came in sight of Galatea and Acis in the hollow of a rock, where they had hearkened to the strains of the Cyclops. The monster, infuriate, crying that this should be the last of their love-meetings, overwhelmed his rival with a tremendous rock. Purple blood spirted from under the stone, by degrees grew paler, and finally became the stream that still bears the name of the unfortunate youth. But Galatea remained inconsolable.[185]

=142. Glaucus and Scylla.=[186] Another deity of the sea was Glaucus, the son of that Sisyphus who was punished in Hades for his treachery to the gods. Glaucus had been a comely young fisherman; but having noticed that a certain herb revived fishes after they were brought to land, he ate of it and suffered metamorphosis into something new and strange, half man, half fish, and after the fashion of a sea-god. Of his experience during this "sea change" the following is an account:

I plunged for life or death. To interknit One's senses with so dense a breathing stuff Might seem a work of pain; so not enough Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt, And buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt Whole days and days in sheer astonishment; Forgetful utterly of self-intent, Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. Then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, I tried in fear the pinions of my will. 'Twas freedom! and at once I visited The ceaseless wonders of this ocean bed.[187]

He became guardian of fishes and divers and of those who go down to the sea in ships. Later, being infatuated of the fair virgin Scylla (daughter of the sea-god Phorcys and granddaughter of Pontus), he paid his court to her, but the maiden rejected him. Whereupon, in desperation, Glaucus sought the aid of Circe, an enchantress. She, because she coveted for herself the handsome sea-green god, transformed her rival into a monster hideously fashioned of serpents and barking dogs.[188] In this shape Scylla thereafter infested the shore of Sicily and worked evil to mariners,[189] till finally she was petrified as a reef, none the less perilous to all seafarers.

A modern version of the fate of Glaucus and Scylla is given by Keats in the Endymion. Glaucus consents to Circe's blandishments for a season, but becoming disgusted with her treachery and cruelty, he endeavors to escape from her. The attempt proving unsuccessful, he is brought back and sentenced to pass a thousand years in decrepitude and pain. Consequently, returning to the sea, he there discovers the body of Scylla, whom the goddess has not transformed, but drowned, and learns that if he passes his thousand years in collecting the bodies of drowned lovers, a youth beloved of the gods will, in time, appear and help him. This prophecy is fulfilled by Endymion, who aids in restoring Glaucus to youth, and Scylla and the drowned lovers to life.

=143. Nisus and Scylla.=[190] The daughter of Phorcys is frequently confounded with another Scylla, daughter of King Nisus of Megara. Scylla of Megara betrayed her father to his enemy, Minos II of Crete, with whom, although the kings were at war, she had fallen violently in love. It seems that Nisus had on his head a purple lock of hair, on which depended his fortune and his life. This lock his daughter clipped and conveyed to Minos. But recoiling from the treacherous gift, that king, after he had conquered Megara, bound Scylla to the rudder of his ship and so dragged her through the waves toward Crete. The girl was ultimately transformed into the monster of the barking dogs, or, according to another authority, into a bird continually the prey of the sea eagle, whose form her father Nisus had assumed.

=144. Leucothea.=[191] Another sea change was that of Ino, the daughter of Cadmus and wife of Athamas, who, flying from her frantic husband, sprang, with her child Melicertes in her arms, from a cliff into the sea. The gods, out of compassion, made her a goddess of the sea under the name of Leucothea, and her son a god under that of Palæmon. Both were held powerful to save from shipwreck and were invoked by sailors. Palæmon was usually represented as riding on a dolphin. In his honor the Isthmian games were celebrated. By the Romans he was called Portumnus, and had jurisdiction of ports and shores.

=145. Proteus and Aristæus.=[192] Though Aristæus, the lover of Eurydice, was son of Apollo and guardian himself of herds and flocks, protector of vine and olive, and keeper of bees, still he was son of Cyrene, a water-nymph, and his most interesting adventure brought him into contact with another deity of the sea.

His bees having perished, Aristæus resorted for aid to his mother. She, surrounded by her maidens in the crystalline abode under her river, overheard his complaints and ordered that he should be brought into her presence. The stream at her command opened itself and let him enter, while it stood heaped like a mountain on either side. Cyrene and her nymphs, having poured out libations to Neptune, gave the youth to eat and listened to his complaint, then informed him that an aged prophet named Proteus, who dwelt in the sea and pastured the sea calves of Neptune, could explain the cause of the mortality among the bees and how to remedy it; but that the wizard would have to be chained and compelled to answer, and that even when chained, he would try to escape by assuming a series of dreadful forms. "Still, thou hast but to keep him fast bound," concluded Cyrene, "and at last, when he finds his arts of no avail, he will obey thy behest."

The nymph then sprinkled her son with nectar, whereupon an unusual vigor filled his frame and courage his heart.

Cyrene led her son to the prophet's cave, which was in the island of Pharos, or of Carpathos,[193] and concealed him. At noon issued Proteus from the water, followed by his herd of sea calves, which spread themselves along the shore. He, too, stretched himself on the floor of the cave and went to sleep. Aristæus immediately clapped fetters on him and shouted at the top of his voice. Proteus, finding himself captured, resorted to his craft, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible wild beast, in rapid succession; nor did he succumb till all schemes had failed to set him free. Then he resumed his old form and, in response to the questioning of Aristæus, said: "Thou receivest the merited reward of thy deed, by which Eurydice met her death. To avenge her, the nymphs have sent this destruction on thy bees. Their anger thou must appease.

Four bulls shalt thou select, of perfect form and size, and four cows of equal beauty; and four altars shalt thou build to the nymphs, and shalt sacrifice the animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy grove. To Orpheus and Eurydice thou shalt pay such funeral honors as may allay their resentment. Returning after nine days, examine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what has befallen." Aristæus faithfully obeyed these directions. [194]

=146. =[195] A similar contest took place between Hercules and the river-god Acheloüs. The cause of the strife was Dejanira of Calydon, whom both heroes loved. Hercules boasted his divine descent. Acheloüs, not content with advancing his claim as lord of the mightiest and most ancient river of Greece, insinuated suspicions with regard to the value of Hercules' pretensions. Then began a mighty struggle. Finding he was no match for Hercules in the wrestler's art, Acheloüs glided away in the form of a serpent. Hercules, remarking that it was the labor of his infancy to strangle snakes,[196] clasped the neck of Acheloüs and choked him. Then Acheloüs assumed the seeming of a bull. Whereupon Hercules, seizing him by the horns, dragged his head to the ground, overthrew him, and rent one horn away. This trophy the Naiads consecrated and filled with flowers for the goddess of Plenty, who, adopting it as her symbol, named it Cornucopia.

=147. Milton's Sabrina Fair.= No writer in modern times has made more graceful poetic use of the divinities of the streams than has Milton. The following song, chanted by a Spirit in invocation of "the gentle nymph" (of the poet's invention) "that with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream," is but one refrain of many caught by the poet from the far-echoing chorus of classical verse:

Sabrina fair, Listen where thou art sitting Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; Listen for dear honor's sake, Goddess of the silver lake, Listen and save.

Listen and appear to us In name of great Oceanus. By th' earth-shaking Neptune's mace, And Tethys' grave, majestic pace, By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, And the Carpathian wizard's hook, By scaly Triton's winding shell, And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell, By Leucothea's lovely hands, And her son that rules the strands, By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, And the songs of Sirens sweet, By dead Parthenope's[1] dear tomb And fair Ligea's[197] golden comb, Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks, Sleeking her soft, alluring locks, By all the nymphs that nightly dance On thy streams with wily glance; Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head From thy coral-paven bed, And bridle in thy headlong wave, Till thou our summons answered have. Listen and save.[198]

FOOTNOTES:

[183] Theocritus, Idyl VI. See Andrew Lang's translation.

[184] Theocritus, Idyl XI (Lang's translation).

[185] Ovid, Metam. 13, 750-867.

[186] Ovid, Metam. 13, 898; 14, 74; Tibullus, 3, 4-89.

[187] From Keats' Endymion.

[188] §§ 50, 52, and Commentary.

[189] See §§ 239, 250, Adventures of Ulysses and Æneas.

[190] Apollodorus, 3, 15, § 8.

[191] Ovid, Metam. 4, 432-542.

[192] Cf. Odyssey, 4, 410; Ovid, Fasti, 1, 369; Virgil, Georgics, 4, 317.

[193] Cf. § 147, Milton's Carpathian Wizard.

[194] See Commentary.

[195] Ovid, Metam. 9, 1-100.

[196] § 156.

[197] See Commentary.

[198] Milton, Comus, 859-889.

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=148. The Older and the Younger Heroes.= We have already narrated the adventures of certain demigods and heroes, such as Prometheus, Deucalion, Cadmus, Amphion, Orpheus. Others of importance were Perseus, Hercules, Minos, [OE]dipus, Theseus, Jason, Meleager, Peleus, Pelops, Castor and Pollux. These and their contemporaries may be called the Older Heroes. They are renowned either for individual exploits or for the part played by them in one or more of three great expeditions,--the War against Laomedon of Troy, the Voyage for the Golden Fleece, and the Hunt of the Calydonian Boar.

The Younger Heroes were of a later generation, which was concerned in four important enterprises,--the War of the Seven against Thebes, the Trojan War, the Wanderings of Ulysses, and the Adventures of Æneas.

The exploits of the Older Heroes may be arranged in respect of their probable sequence in time, and of their grouping according to families of heroes. If we observe the principle of genealogy, one race, that of Inachus of Argos, attracts our notice in the heroes descended from Pelasgus,[199] Belus, and Agenor. The family of Belus gives us the famous House of Danaüs, the family of Agenor the Houses of Minos and Labdacus. Another race, that of Deucalion, gives us the heroes of the Hellenic branch, most notably those descended from Æolus. With these families most of the Older Heroes are, by blood or by adventure, to some extent connected. [200]

=149. The Genealogy of Danaüs.= As the Hellenes, in the north, traced their descent from Deucalion and Pyrrha of Thessaly, so the Pelasgic races of the south from the river-god Inachus, son of Oceanus. The son of Inachus, Phoroneus, lived in the Peloponnesus and founded the town of Argos. This Phoroneus conferred on the Argives the benefits attributed by other Greeks to Prometheus. He was succeeded by his son Pelasgus, from whom a division of the Greek people derive their name. With the love of Jupiter for the sister of Phoroneus, the fair Io, we are already acquainted. Her son was Epaphus, king of Egypt, from whom were descended (1) Agenor of Ph[oe]nicia, father of Europa and Cadmus, and (2) Belus of Egypt, father of Ægyptus and Danaüs. To the family of Agenor we shall return in the history of Minos, son of Europa, and of [OE]dipus, descendant of Cadmus.

=150. The Danaïds.=[201] Ægyptus and his fifty sons drove Danaüs and his fifty daughters back to Argos, the ancestral home of the race. Finally, a reconciliation was arranged by means of a fiftyfold marriage between the sons of Ægyptus and the Danaïds. But in accordance with a treacherous command of Danaüs, all his daughters save Hypermnestra slew their husbands on the wedding night. For this crime the forty-nine Danaïds were condemned to spend eternity in Tartarus, trying to fill with water a vessel full of holes. From Hypermnestra and her husband, Lynceus, was sprung the royal house of Argos. Their son was Abas, their grandson, Acrisius,--of whom the following narrative is told.

=151. The Doom of King Acrisius.=[202] The daughter of Acrisius was Danaë, of surpassing loveliness. In consequence of an oracle which had prophesied that the son of Danaë would be the means of his grandfather's death, the hapless girl was shut in an underground chamber, that no man might love or wed her. But Jupiter, distilling himself into a shower of gold, flooded the girl's prison, wooed, and won her. Their son was Perseus. King Acrisius, in dismay, ordered mother and child to be boxed up in a chest and set adrift on the sea. The two unfortunates were, however, rescued at Seriphus by a fisherman, who conveyed the mother and infant to Polydectes, king of the country, by whom they were treated at first with kindness, but afterwards with cruelty.

=152. Perseus and Medusa.=[203] When Perseus was grown up, Polydectes sent him to attempt the conquest of the Gorgon Medusa,[204] a terrible monster who had laid waste the country. She had once been a maiden whose hair was her chief glory, but as she dared to vie in beauty with Minerva, the goddess deprived her of her charms and changed her ringlets into hissing serpents. She became a monster of so frightful an aspect that no living thing could behold her without being turned into stone. All around the cavern where she dwelt might be seen the stony figures of men and animals that had chanced to catch a glimpse of her and had been petrified at the sight. Perseus, favored by Minerva and Mercury, set out against the Gorgon, and approached first the cave of the three Grææ:

There sat the crones that had the single eye, Clad in blue sweeping cloak and snow-white gown; While o'er their backs their straight white hair hung down In long thin locks; dreadful their faces were, Carved all about with wrinkles of despair; And as they sat they crooned a dreary song, Complaining that their lives should last so long, In that sad place that no one came anear, In that wan place desert of hope and fear; And singing, still they rocked their bodies bent, And ever each to each the eye they sent.[205]

Snatching the eye, Perseus compelled the Grææ, as the price of its restoration, to tell him how he might obtain the helmet of Hades that renders its wearer invisible, and the winged shoes and pouch that were necessary. With this outfit, to which Minerva added her shield and Mercury his knife, Perseus sped to the hall of the Gorgons. In silence sat two of the sisters,--

But a third woman paced about the hall, And ever turned her head from wall to wall And moaned aloud, and shrieked in her despair; Because the golden tresses of her hair Were moved by writhing snakes from side to side, That in their writhing oftentimes would glide On to her breast, or shuddering shoulders white; Or, falling down, the hideous things would light On her feet, and crawling thence would twine Their slimy folds about her ankles fine.[206]

From the sculpture by Cellini]

This was Medusa. Her, while she was praying the gods to end her misery, or, as some say, while she was sleeping, Perseus approached, and, guided by her image reflected in the bright shield which he bore, cut off her head, and so ended her miserable existence. Thus are described the horror and the grace of her features in death:

It lieth, gazing on the midnight sky, On the cloudy mountain peak supine; Below, far lands are seen tremblingly; Its horror and its beauty are divine. On its lips and eyelids seems to lie Loveliness like a shadow, from which shine, Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath, The agonies of anguish and of death.

Yet it is less the horror than the grace Which turns the gazer's spirit into stone; Whereon the lineaments of that dead face Are graven, till the characters be grown Into itself, and thought no more can trace; 'Tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown Athwart the darkness and the glare of pain, Which humanize and harmonize the strain.[207]...

=153. Perseus and Atlas.= From the body of Medusa sprang the winged horse Pegasus, of whose rider, Bellerophon, we shall presently be informed.

After the slaughter of Medusa, Perseus, bearing with him the head of the Gorgon, flew far and wide, over land and sea. As night came on, he reached the western limit of the earth, and would gladly have rested till morning. Here was the realm of Atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other men. He was rich in flocks and herds, but his chief pride was his garden of the Hesperides, whose fruit was of gold, hanging from golden branches, half hid with golden leaves. Perseus said to him, "I come as a guest. If thou holdest in honor illustrious descent, I claim Jupiter for my father; if mighty deeds, I plead the conquest of the Gorgon. I seek rest and food." But Atlas, remembering an ancient prophecy that had warned him against a son of Jove who should one day rob him of his golden apples, attempted to thrust the youth out. Whereupon Perseus, finding the giant too strong for him, held up the Gorgon's head.

Atlas, with all his bulk, was changed into stone. His beard and hair became forests, his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head a summit, and his bones rocks. Each part increased in mass till the giant became the mountain on whose shoulders rests heaven with all its stars.

=154. Perseus and Andromeda.= On his way back to Seriphus, the Gorgon-slayer arrived at the country of the Æthiopians, over whom Cepheus was king. His wife was Cassiopea--

That starred Æthiope queen that strove To set her beauty's praise above The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended.[208]

These nymphs had consequently sent a sea monster to ravage the coast. To appease the deities, Cepheus was directed by the oracle to devote his daughter Andromeda to the ravening maw of the prodigy. As Perseus looked down from his aërial height, he beheld the virgin chained to a rock. Drawing nearer he pitied, then comforted her, and sought the reason of her disgrace. At first from modesty she was silent; but when he repeated his questions, for fear she might be thought guilty of some offense which she dared not tell, she disclosed her name and that of her country, and her mother's pride of beauty. Before she had done speaking, a sound was heard on the water, and the monster appeared. The virgin shrieked; the father and mother, who had now arrived, poured forth lamentations and threw their arms about the victim.

But the hero himself undertook to slay the monster, on condition that, if the maiden were rescued by his valor, she should be his reward. The parents consented. Perseus embraced his promised bride; then--

Loosing his arms from her waist he flew upward, awaiting the sea beast. Onward it came from the southward, as bulky and black as a galley, Lazily coasting along, as the fish fled leaping before it; Lazily breasting the ripple, and watching by sand bar and headland, Listening for laughter of maidens at bleaching, or song of the fisher, Children at play on the pebbles, or cattle that passed on the sand hills. Rolling and dripping it came, where bedded in glistening purple Cold on the cold seaweeds lay the long white sides of the maiden, Trembling, her face in her hands, and her tresses afloat on the water.[209]

The youth darted down on the back of the monster and plunged his sword into its shoulder, then eluded its furious attack by means of his wings. Wherever he could find a passage for his sword, he plunged it between the scales of flank and side. The wings of the hero were finally drenched and unmanageable with the blood and water that the brute spouted. Then alighting on a rock and holding by a projection, he gave the monster his deathblow.

The joyful parents, with Perseus and Andromeda, repaired to the palace, where a banquet was opened for them. But in the midst of the festivities a noise was heard of warlike clamor, and Phineus, who had formerly been betrothed to the bride, burst in, demanding her for his own. In vain, Cepheus remonstrated that all such engagements had been dissolved by the sentence of death passed on Andromeda, and that if Phineus had actually loved the girl, he would have tried to rescue her. Phineus and his adherents, persisting in their intent, attacked the wedding party and would have broken it up with most admired disorder, but

Mid the fabled Libyan bridal stood Perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath, Half stood, half floated on his ankle plumes Out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield Looked into stone the raging fray.[210]

Leaving Phineus and his fellows in merited petrifaction, and conveying Andromeda to Seriphus, the hero there turned into stone Polydectes and his court, because the tyrant had rendered Danaë's life intolerable with his attentions. Perseus then restored to their owners the charmed helmet, the winged shoes, and the pouch in which he had conveyed the Gorgon's head. The head itself he bestowed on Minerva, who bore it afterward on her ægis or shield. Of that Gorgon shield no simpler moral interpretation can be framed than the following:

What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin, Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone, But rigid looks of chaste austerity, And noble grace that dashed brute violence With sudden adoration and blank awe![211]

With his mother and his wife Perseus returned to Argos to seek his grandfather. But Acrisius, still fearing his doom, had retired to Larissa in Thessaly. Thither Perseus followed him, and found him presiding over certain funeral games. As luck would have it, the hero took part in the quoit throwing, and hurled a quoit far beyond the mark. The disk, falling on his grandfather's foot, brought about the old man's death, and in that way the prophecy was fulfilled. Of Perseus and Andromeda three sons were born, through one of whom, Electryon, they became grandparents of the famous Alcmene, sweetheart of Jove and mother of Hercules.

=155. Bellerophon and the Chimæra.=[212] The horse Pegasus, which sprang from the Gorgon's blood, found a master in Bellerophon of Corinth. This youth was of the Hellenic branch of the Greek nation, being descended from Sisyphus and through him from Æolus, the son of Hellen.[213] His adventures should therefore be recited with those of Jason and other descendants of Æolus in the next chapter, but that they follow so closely on those of Perseus. His father, Glaucus, king of Corinth, is frequently identified with Glaucus the fisherman. This Glaucus of Corinth was noted for his love of horse racing, his fashion of feeding his mares on human flesh, and his destruction by the fury of his horses; for having upset his chariot, they tore their master to pieces. As to his son, Bellerophon, the following is related:

In Lycia a monster, breathing fire, made great havoc. The fore part of his body was a compound of the lion and the goat; the hind part was a dragon's. The king, Iobates, sought a hero to destroy this Chimæra, as it was called. At that time Bellerophon arrived at his court. The gallant youth brought letters from Pr[oe]tus, the son-in-law of Iobates, recommending Bellerophon in the warmest terms as an unconquerable hero, but adding a request to his father-in-law to put him to death. For Pr[oe]tus, suspecting that his wife Antea looked with too great favor on the young warrior, schemed thus to destroy him.

Iobates accordingly determined to send Bellerophon against the Chimæra. Bellerophon accepted the proposal, but before proceeding to the combat, consulted the soothsayer Polyidus, who counseled him to procure, if possible, the horse Pegasus for the conflict. Now this horse had been caught and tamed by Minerva and by her presented to the Muses. Polyidus, therefore, directed Bellerophon to pass the night in the temple of Minerva. While he slept, Minerva brought him a golden bridle. When he awoke, she showed him Pegasus drinking at the well of Pirene. At sight of the bridle, the winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to be taken. Bellerophon mounted him, sped through the air, found the Chimæra, and gained an easy victory.

After the conquest of this monster, Bellerophon was subjected to further trials and labors by his unfriendly host, but by the aid of Pegasus he triumphed over all. At length Iobates, seeing that the hero was beloved of the gods, gave him his daughter in marriage and made him his successor on the throne. It is said that Bellerophon, by his pride and presumption, drew on himself the anger of the Olympians; that he even attempted to fly to heaven on his winged steed; but the king of gods and men sent a gadfly, which, stinging Pegasus, caused him to throw his rider, who wandered ever after lame, blind, and lonely through the Aleian field, and perished miserably.

=156. =[214] Alcmene, daughter of Electryon and granddaughter of Perseus and Andromeda, was beloved of Jupiter. Their son, the mighty Hercules, born in Thebes, became the national hero of Greece. Juno, always hostile to the offspring of her husband by mortal mothers, declared war against Hercules from his birth. She sent two serpents to destroy him as he lay in his cradle, but the precocious infant strangled them with his hands. In his youth he passed for the son of his stepfather Amphitryon, king of Thebes, grandson of Perseus and Andromeda, and son of Alcæus. Hence his patronymic, Alcides. Rhadamanthus trained him in wisdom and virtue, Linus in music. Unfortunately the latter attempted one day to chastise Hercules; whereupon the pupil killed the master with a lute.

After this melancholy breach of discipline, the youth was rusticated,--sent off to the mountains, where among the herdsmen and the cattle he grew to mighty stature, slew the Thespian lion, and performed various deeds of valor. To him, while still a youth, appeared, according to one story, two women at a meeting of the ways,--Pleasure and Duty. The gifts offered by Duty were the "Choice of Hercules." Soon afterward he contended with none other than Apollo for the tripod of Delphi; but reconciliation was effected between the combatants by the gods of Olympus, and from that day forth Apollo and Hercules remained true friends, each respecting the prowess of the other. Returning to Thebes, the hero aided his half brother Iphicles and his reputed father Amphitryon in throwing off the yoke of the city of Orchomenus, and was rewarded with the hand of the princess Megara.

A few years later, while in the very pride of his manhood, he was driven insane by the implacable Juno. In his madness he slew his children, and would have slain Amphitryon, also, had not Minerva knocked him over with a stone and plunged him into a deep sleep, from which he awoke in his right mind. Next, for expiation of the bloodshed, he was rendered subject to his cousin Eurystheus and compelled to perform his commands. This humiliation, Juno, of course, had decreed.

=157. His Labors.= Eurystheus enjoined on the hero a succession of desperate undertakings, which are called the twelve "Labors of Hercules." The first was the combat with the lion that infested the valley of Nemea, the skin of which Hercules was ordered to bring to Mycenæ. After using in vain his club and arrows against the lion, Hercules strangled the animal with his hands and returned, carrying its carcass on his shoulders; but Eurystheus, frightened at the sight and at this proof of the prodigious strength of the hero, ordered him to deliver the account of his exploits, in future, outside the town.

His second labor was the slaughter of the Hydra, a water serpent that ravaged the country of Argos and dwelt in a swamp near the well of Amymone. It had nine heads, of which the middle one was immortal. Hercules struck off the heads with his club; but in the place of each dispatched, two new ones appeared. At last, with the assistance of his faithful nephew Iolaüs, he burned away the other heads of the Hydra and buried the ninth, which was immortal, under a rock.

His third labor was the capture of a boar that haunted Mount Erymanthus in Arcadia. The adventure was, in itself, successful. But on the same journey Hercules made the friendship of the centaur Pholus, who, receiving him hospitably, poured out for him without stint the choicest wine that the centaurs possessed. As a consequence, Hercules became involved in a broil with the other centaurs of the mountain. Unfortunately his friend Pholus, drawing one of the arrows of Hercules from a brother centaur, wounded himself therewith and died of the poison.

The fourth labor of Hercules was the capture of a wonderful stag of golden antlers and brazen hoofs, that ranged the hills of Cerynea, between Arcadia and Achaia.

His fifth labor was the destruction of the Stymphalian birds, which with cruel beaks and sharp talons harassed the inhabitants of the valley of Stymphalus, devouring many of them.

His sixth labor was the cleaning of the Augean stables. Augeas, king of Elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen, whose stalls had not been cleansed for thirty years. Hercules, bringing the rivers Alpheüs and Peneüs through them, purified them thoroughly in one day.

His seventh labor was the overthrow of the Cretan bull,--an awful but beautiful brute, at once a gift and a curse bestowed by Neptune on Minos of Crete.[215] This monster Hercules brought to Mycenæ.

His eighth labor was the removal of the horses of Diomedes, king of Thrace. These horses subsisted on human flesh, were swift and fearful. Diomedes, attempting to retain them, was killed by Hercules and given to the horses to devour. They were then delivered to Eurystheus; but, escaping, they roamed the hills of Arcadia, till the wild beasts of Apollo tore them to pieces.

His ninth labor was of a more delicate character. Admeta, the daughter of Eurystheus, desired the girdle of the queen of the Amazons, and Eurystheus ordered Hercules to get it. The Amazons were a nation dominated by warlike women, and in their hands were many cities. It was their custom to bring up only the female children, whom they hardened by martial discipline; the boys were either dispatched to the neighboring nations or put to death. Hippolyta, the queen, received Hercules kindly and consented to yield him the girdle; but Juno, taking the form of an Amazon, persuaded the people that the strangers were carrying off their queen. They instantly armed and beset the ship. Whereupon Hercules, thinking that Hippolyta had acted treacherously, slew her and, taking her girdle, made sail homeward.

The tenth task enjoined on him was to capture for Eurystheus the oxen of Geryon, a monster with three bodies, who dwelt in the island Erythea (the red),--so called because it lay in the west, under the rays of the setting sun. This description is thought to apply to Spain, of which Geryon was king. After traversing various countries, Hercules reached at length the frontiers of Libya and Europe, where he raised the two mountains of Abyla and Calpe as monuments of his progress,--the Pillars of Hercules; or, according to another account, rent one mountain into two and left half on each side, forming the Strait of Gibraltar. The oxen were guarded by the giant Eurytion and his two-headed dog, but Hercules killed the warders and conveyed the oxen in safety to Eurystheus.

One of the most difficult labors was the eleventh,--the robbery of the golden apples of the Hesperides. Hercules did not know where to find them; but after various adventures, arrived at Mount Atlas in Africa. Since Atlas was the father of the Hesperides, Hercules thought he might through him obtain the apples. The hero, accordingly, taking the burden of the heavens on his own shoulders,[216] sent Atlas to seek the apples. The giant returned with them and proposed to take them himself to Eurystheus. "Even so," said Hercules; "but, pray, hold this load for me a moment, while I procure a pad to ease my shoulders." Unsuspectingly the giant resumed the burden of the heavens. Hercules took the apples.

His twelfth exploit was to fetch Cerberus from the lower world. To this end he descended into Hades, accompanied by Mercury and Minerva. There he obtained permission from Pluto to carry Cerberus to the upper air, provided he could do it without the use of weapons. In spite of the monster's struggling he seized him, held him fast, carried him to Eurystheus, and afterward restored him to the lower regions. While in Hades, Hercules also obtained the liberty of Theseus, his admirer and imitator, who had been detained there for an attempt at abducting Proserpine.[217]

After his return from Hades to his native Thebes, he renounced his wife Megara, for, having slain his children by her in his fit of madness, he looked on the marriage as displeasing to the gods.

Two other exploits not recorded among the twelve labors are the victories over Antæus and Cacus. Antæus, the son of Poseidon and Gæa, was a giant and wrestler whose strength was invincible so long as he remained in contact with his mother Earth. He compelled all strangers who came to his country to wrestle with him, on condition that if conquered, they should suffer death.

Hercules encountered him and, finding that it was of no avail to throw him,--for he always rose with renewed strength from every fall,--lifted him up from the earth and strangled him in the air.

Later writers tell of an army of Pygmies which, finding Hercules asleep after his defeat of Antæus, made preparations to attack him, as if they were about to attack a city. But the hero, awakening, laughed at the little warriors, wrapped some of them up in his lion's skin, and carried them to Eurystheus.

Cacus was a giant who inhabited a cave on Mount Aventine and plundered the surrounding country. When Hercules was driving home the oxen of Geryon, Cacus stole part of the cattle while the hero slept. That their footprints might not indicate where they had been driven, he dragged them backward by their tails to his cave. Hercules was deceived by the stratagem and would have failed to find his oxen, had it not happened that while he was driving the remainder of the herd past the cave where the stolen ones were concealed, those within, beginning to low, discovered themselves to him. Hercules promptly dispatched the thief.

Through most of these expeditions Hercules was attended by Iolaüs, his devoted friend, the son of his half brother Iphicles.

=158. = On the later exploits of the hero we can dwell but briefly. Having, in a fit of madness, killed his friend Iphitus, he was condemned for the offense to spend three years as the slave of Queen Omphale. He lived effeminately, wearing at times the dress of a woman and spinning wool with the handmaidens of Omphale, while the queen wore his lion's skin. But during this period he contrived to engage in about as many adventures as would fill the life of an ordinary hero. He rescued Daphnis from Lityerses and threw the bloodthirsty king[218] into the river Mæander; he discovered the body of Icarus[219] and buried it; he joined the company of Argonauts, who were on their way to Colchis to secure the golden fleece, and he captured the thievish gnomes, called Cercopes. Two of these grotesque rascals had made off with the weapons of Hercules while he was sleeping.

When he had caught them he strapped them, knees upward, to a yoke and so bore them away. Their drollery, however, regained them their liberty. It is said that some of them having once deceived Jupiter were changed to apes.

=159. The Loss of Hylas.=[220] In the Argonautic adventure Hercules was attended by a lad, Hylas, whom he tenderly loved and on whose account he deserted the expedition in Mysia; for Hylas had been stolen by the Naiads.... Never was Heracles apart from Hylas, not when midnoon was high in heaven, not when Dawn with her white horses speeds upwards to the dwelling of Zeus, not when the twittering nestlings look towards the perch, while their mother flaps her wings above the smoke-browned beam; and all this that the lad might be fashioned to his mind, and might drive a straight furrow, and come to the true measure of man....

And Hylas of the yellow hair, with a vessel of bronze in his hand, went to draw water against supper-time for Heracles himself and the steadfast Telamon, for these comrades twain supped ever at one table. Soon was he ware of a spring in a hollow land, and the rushes grew thickly round it, and dark swallowwort, and green maidenhair, and blooming parsley, and deer grass spreading through the marshy land. In the midst of the water the nymphs were arranging their dances,--the sleepless nymphs, dread goddesses of the country people, Eunice, and Malis, and Nycheia, with her April eyes. And now the boy was holding out the wide-mouthed pitcher to the water, intent on dipping it; but the nymphs all clung to his hand, for love of the Argive lad had fluttered the soft hearts of all of them.

Then down he sank into the black water, headlong all, as when a star shoots flaming from the sky, plumb in the deep it falls; and a mate shouts out to the seamen, "Up with the gear, my lads, the wind is fair for sailing."

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

Then the nymphs held the weeping boy on their laps, and with gentle words were striving to comfort him. But the son of Amphitryon was troubled about the lad, and went forth, carrying his bended bow in Scythian fashion, and the club that is ever grasped in his right hand. Thrice he shouted, "Hylas!" as loud as his deep throat could call, and thrice again the boy heard him, and thrice came his voice from the water, and, hard by though he was, he seemed very far away. And as when a bearded lion, a ravening lion on the hills, hears the bleating of a fawn afar off and rushes forth from his lair to seize it, his readiest meal, even so the mighty Heracles, in longing for the lad, sped through the trackless briars and ranged over much country.

Reckless are lovers: great toils did Heracles bear, in hills and thickets wandering; and Jason's quest was all postponed to this....

Thus loveliest Hylas is numbered with the Blessed; but for a runaway they girded at Heracles--the heroes--because he roamed from Argo of the sixty oarsmen. But on foot he came to Colchis and inhospitable Phasis.

=160. =[221] Daphnis was the ideal Sicilian shepherd and to him was ascribed the invention of pastoral story and song. His father was Hermes (Mercury); his mother, a nymph who laid him when an infant in a charming valley in a laurel grove from which he received his name,[222] and on account of which Apollo loved him and endowed him with the gift of idyllic verse. He was brought up by nymphs and shepherds, and, avoiding the noisy haunts of men, he tended his flocks on Mount Ætna, winter and summer. He loved a maiden named Piplea, but she was borne away by robbers. He followed them to Phrygia, and there found his sweetheart in the power of the king of that realm, Lityerses. This Lityerses had a pleasant custom of making strangers try a contest with him in reaping corn. If he overcame them, he cut off their heads in the evening and concealed their bodies in the sheaves, singing a comfortable song meanwhile.

In order to win back Piplea, Daphnis entered on the reaping contest with the king and made himself comfortable, too, by singing a harvest song meanwhile. But Lityerses surpassed him at the work and was about to put him to death, singing no doubt a comfortable song of the reaper, Death, meanwhile,--when suddenly Hercules appeared on the scene. He doesn't seem to have spent much time singing: he assured Daphnis of his head by cutting off that of the pleasant king; and then he threw the body into the river Mæander. Daphnis regained his Piplea and one would suppose that they lived happy ever after. Another story, unfortunately, relates events in which Piplea's name does not occur. A Naiad fell in love with the handsome shepherd and made him promise eternal fidelity to her, threatening him with blindness if he violated his vow. It was hard for poor Daphnis, for nearly every lass he met made love to him.

At last a princess intoxicated him and he forgot his vow. Immediately the Naiad showed the quality of her love by striking him blind. He consoled himself for a while by singing his songs and playing the flute as he wandered from place to place. Then weary, he called on his father for aid. Mercury accordingly transported him to heaven and caused a well to gush forth on the spot from which he ascended. Here the Sicilians offered yearly sacrifice in his honor.

Theocritus gives us a Lityerses song as he undoubtedly used to hear it sung by the harvesters of the country-side in Sicily:[223]

Demeter, rich in fruit and rich in grain, may this corn be easy to win and fruitful exceedingly! Bind, ye binders, the sheaves, lest the wayfarer should cry, "Men of straw were the workers here; aye, and their hire was wasted!" See that the cut stubble faces the North wind, or the West;--'tis thus that the grain waxes richest. They that thresh corn should shun the noonday sleep; at noon the chaff parts easiest from the straw. As for the reapers, let them begin when the crested lark is waking, and cease when he sleeps, but take holiday in the heat. Lads, the frog has a jolly life: he is not cumbered about a butler to his drink; for he has liquor by him unstinted! Boil the lentils better, thou miserly steward; take heed lest thou chop thy fingers, when thou'rt splitting cummin seed.

When Matthew Arnold is writing of the death of his dear friend, the poet, Arthur Hugh Clough, who died in Italy,[224] he says:

And now in happier air, Wandering with the great Mother's train divine.... Within a folding of the Apennine,

Thou hearest the immortal chants of old! Putting his sickle to the perilous grain In the hot cornfield of the Phrygian king, For thee the Lityerses song again Young Daphnis with his silver voice doth sing; Sings his Sicilian fold, His sheep, his hapless love, his blinded eyes:-- And how a call celestial round him rang, And heavenward from the fountain-brink he sprang,-- And all the marvel of the golden skies!

=161. The Expedition against Laomedon.= After his servitude under Omphale was ended, Hercules sailed with eighteen ships against Troy. For Laomedon, king of that realm, had refused to give Hercules the horses of Neptune, which he had promised in gratitude for the rescue of his daughter Hesione from the sea-monster.[225] The hero, overcoming Troy, placed a son of Laomedon, Priam, on the throne, and gave Hesione to Telamon, who, with Peleus, Oïcles, and other Greek heroes, had accompanied him. Also worthy of mention among the exploits of Hercules were his successful expeditions against Pylos and Sparta, his victory over the giants, his struggle with Death for the body and life of Alcestis,[226] and his delivery, according to prophecy, of Prometheus, who until that time had remained in chains on the Caucasian Mountains.[227]

=162. = Finally, the hero married Dejanira, daughter of [OE]neus of Calydon and sister of Meleager of the Calydonian hunt. With her he lived three prosperous years. But on one occasion, as they journeyed together, they came to a river across which the centaur Nessus carried travelers for a stated fee. Hercules proceeded to ford the river and gave Dejanira to Nessus to be carried across. Nessus, however, attempted to make off with her; whereupon Hercules, hearing her cries, shot an arrow into his heart. The centaur, as he died, bade Dejanira take a portion of his blood and keep it, saying that it might be used as a charm to preserve the love of her husband. Dejanira did so. Before long, jealous of Hercules' fondness for Iole of [OE]chalia, a captive maiden, she steeped a sacrificial robe of her husband's in the blood of Nessus. As soon as the garment became warm on the body of Hercules, the poison penetrated his limbs.

In his frenzy he seized Lichas, who had brought him the fatal robe, and hurled him into the sea; then tried to wrench off the garment, but it stuck to his flesh and tore away whole pieces of his body.

Alcides, from [OE]chalia crowned With conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore, Through pain, up by the roots Thessalian pines, And Lichas from the top of [OE]ta threw Into the Euboic Sea.[228]

In this state he embarked on board a ship and was conveyed home. Dejanira, on seeing what she had unwittingly done, hanged herself. Hercules, prepared to die, ascended Mount [OE]ta, where he built a funeral pile of trees, gave his bow and arrows to Philoctetes,[229] and laid himself on the pile, his head resting on his club and his lion's skin spread over him. With a countenance as serene as if he were taking his place at a festal board, he commanded Philoctetes to apply the torch. The flames spread apace, and soon invested the whole mass.[230]

The gods themselves grieved to see the champion of the earth so brought to his end. But Jupiter took care that only his mother's part in him should perish by the flames. The immortal element, derived from Jupiter himself, was translated to heaven; and by the consent of the gods--even of reluctant Juno--Hercules was admitted as a deity to the ranks of the immortals. The white-armed queen of heaven was finally reconciled to the offspring of Alcmene. She adopted him for her son and gave him in marriage her daughter Hebe.

Deep degraded to a coward's slave, Endless contests bore Alcides brave, Through the thorny path of suffering led; Slew the Hydra, crushed the lion's might, Threw himself, to bring his friend to light, Living, in the skiff that bears the dead. All the torments, every toil of earth, Juno's hatred on him could impose, Well he bore them, from his fated birth To life's grandly mournful close.

Till the god, the earthly part forsaken, From the man in flames asunder taken, Drank the heavenly ether's purer breath. Joyous in the new unwonted lightness, Soared he upwards to celestial brightness, Earth's dark heavy burden lost in death. High Olympus gives harmonious greeting To the hall where reigns his sire adored; Youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting, Gives the nectar to her lord.[231]

In the tragedy called The Maidens of Trachis, Sophocles describes this hero as "The noblest man of all the earth, of whom thou ne'er shalt see the like again." To some of us the manner of his earthly end may seem unworthy; but the Greek poets teach that, in the unabated vigor of one's powers, serenely to meet and accept one's doom is the happiest death. This view is well expressed by Matthew Arnold in the following fragment of a Greek chorus sung with reference to the death of Hercules:

O frivolous mind of man, Light ignorance, and hurrying, unsure thoughts! Though man bewails you not, How I bewail you!...

For you will not put on New hearts with the inquirer's holy robe, And purged, considerate minds.

And him on whom, at the end Of toil and dolor untold, The Gods have said that repose At last shall descend undisturb'd-- Him you expect to behold In an easy old age, in a happy home; No end but this you praise.

But him, on whom, in the prime Of life, with vigor undimm'd, With unspent mind, and a soul Unworn, undebased, undecay'd, Mournfully grating, the gates Of the city of death have forever closed-- Him, I count him, well-starr'd.[232]

Here we take leave for a time of the descendants of Inachus. We shall revert to them in the stories of Minos of Crete and of the house of Labdacus.

FOOTNOTES:

[199] § 21, and Commentary, § 57.

[200] For references to genealogical tables, see Commentary, § 148.

[201] Apollodorus, 2, 1, § 5, etc.; Pausanias; Ovid, Heroides, 14; Horace, Odes, 3; 11; 23.

[202] Simonides of Ceos, also Apollodorus, Pausanias, and Hyginus (Fables).

[203] Ovid, Metam. 4, 608-739; 5, 1-249.

[204] For Gorgons and Grææ, see § 52.

[205] William Morris, The Doom of King Acrisius, in The Earthly Paradise.

[206] William Morris, The Doom of King Acrisius, in The Earthly Paradise.

[207] From Shelley's lines On the Medusa of Leonardo Da Vinci in the Florentine Gallery.

[208] Milton, Il Penseroso, l. 19.

[209] From Charles Kingsley's Andromeda.

[210] Milman, Samor.

[211] Milton, Comus.

[212] Iliad, 6, 155-202; Apollodorus, 1, 9, § 3; Horace, Odes, 4; 11; 26.

[213] See Commentary, §§ 103, 155.

[214] Authorities are Homer,--Iliad and Odyssey; Theocritus 24; 25, etc.; Apollodorus, 2, 4, § 7, etc.; Sophocles, Women of Trachis; Euripides, Hercules Furens; Ovid, Metam. 9, 102-272; Seneca,--Hercules Furens and [OE]tæus; Hyginus, etc.

[215] § 172.

[216] Atlas and the heavens, § 153.

[217] § 180.

[218] § 160.

[219] § 173.

[220] Theocritus. Idyl XIII (Lang's translation).

[221] Theocritus, Idyl X, 41, and the Scholia; Virgil, Bucol. 5; 8; 10; and Comments.

[222] See the story of Daphne.

[223] Theocritus, Idyl X (Lang's translation).

[224] Thyrsis.

[225] § 119.

[226] § 83.

[227] § 15.

[228] Milton.

[229] See § 220. According to Sophocles, Philoctetes' father P[oe]as applied the torch.

[230] See the spirited poems, Deïaneira and Herakles, in the classical, but too little read, Epic of Hades, by Lewis Morris.

[231] Schiller's Ideal and Life. Translated by S. G. Bulfinch, brother of Thomas Bulfinch.

[232] From Fragment of Chorus of a "Dejaneira."

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=163. Descendants of Deucalion.= Athamas, brother of Sisyphus, was descended from Æolus, whose father, Hellen, was the son of Deucalion of Thessaly. Athamas had by his wife Nephele two children, Phrixus and Helle. After a time, growing indifferent to his wife, Athamas put her away and took Ino, the daughter of Cadmus. The unfortunate sequel of this second marriage we have already seen.[233]

Nephele, apprehending danger to her children from the influence of their stepmother, took measures to put them out of her reach. Mercury gave her a ram with a golden fleece, on which she set the two children. Vaulting into the air, the animal took his course to the east; but when he was crossing the strait that divides Europe and Asia, the girl Helle fell from his back into the sea, which from her was afterward called the Hellespont--now the Dardanelles. The ram safely landed the boy Phrixus in Colchis, where he was hospitably received by Æetes, the king of that country. Phrixus sacrificed the ram to Jupiter, but the fleece he gave to Æetes, who placed it in a consecrated grove under the care of a sleepless dragon.[234]

=164. =[235] Another realm in Thessaly, near to that of Athamas, was ruled over by his nephew Æson. Æson, although he had a son Jason, surrendered the crown to a half brother, Pelias,[236] on condition that he should hold it only during the minority of the lad. [237] When, however, Jason, being grown up, came to demand the crown, his uncle Pelias with wily intent suggested to him the glorious quest of the golden fleece. Jason, pleased with the thought, forthwith made preparations for the expedition. At that time the only species of navigation known to the Greeks consisted of small boats or canoes hollowed out from trunks of trees; when, accordingly, Jason employed Argus to build a vessel capable of containing fifty men, it was considered a gigantic undertaking. The vessel was named Argo, probably after its builder.

Jason soon found himself at the head of a bold band of comrades, many of whom afterward were renowned among the heroes and demigods of Greece.

From every region of Ægea's shore The brave assembled; those illustrious twins Castor and Pollux; Orpheus, tuneful bard; Zetes and Calaïs, as the wind in speed; Strong Hercules and many a chief renowned. On deep Iolcos' sandy shore they thronged, Gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits,-- And soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone Uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark; Whose keel of wondrous length the skillful hand Of Argus fashioned for the proud attempt; And in the extended keel a lofty mast Upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs Unwonted objects. Now first, now they learned Their bolder steerage over ocean wave, Led by the golden stars, as Chiron's art Had marked the sphere celestial.[238]

Theseus, Meleager, Peleus, and Nestor were also among these Argonauts, or sailors of the Argo. The ship with her crew of heroes left the shores of Thessaly, and touching at the island of Lemnos, thence crossed to Mysia and thence to Thrace. Here they found the sage Phineus, who instructed the Argonauts how they might pass the Symplegades, or Clashing Islands, at the entrance of the Euxine Sea. When they reached these islands they, accordingly, let go a dove, which took her way between the rocks and passed in safety, only losing some feathers of her tail. Jason and his men, seizing the favorable moment of the rebound, plied their oars with vigor and passed safe through, though the islands closed behind them and actually grazed the stern of the vessel. They then rowed along the shore till they arrived at the eastern end of the sea, and so landed in the kingdom of Colchis.

Jason made known his message to the Colchian king, Æetes, who consented to give up the golden fleece on certain conditions, namely, that Jason should yoke to the plow two fire-breathing bulls with brazen feet, and that he then should sow the teeth of the dragon that Cadmus had slain. Jason, although it was well known that a crop of armed men would spring up from the teeth, destined to turn their weapons against their producer, accepted the conditions, and a time was set for the undertaking. The hero, however, wisely spent the interval in wooing Medea, the daughter of Æetes; and with such success that they plighted troth before the altar of Hecate. The princess then furnished her hero with a charm which should aid him in the contest to come.

Accordingly, when the momentous day was arrived, Jason with calmness encountered the fire-breathing monsters and speedily yoked them to the plow. The Colchians stood in amazement; the Greeks shouted for joy. Next, the hero proceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and plow them in. Up sprang, according to prediction, the crop of armed men, brandished aloft their weapons, and rushed on Jason. The Greeks trembled for their hero. Medea herself grew pale with fear. The hero himself for a time, with sword and shield, kept his assailants at bay; but he surely would have been overwhelmed by the numbers, had he not resorted to a charm which Medea had taught him: seizing a stone, he threw it in the midst of his foes. Immediately they turned their arms against one another, and soon there was not one of the dragon's brood alive.

It remained only to lull to sleep the dragon that guarded the fleece. This was done by scattering over him a few drops of a preparation which, again, Medea had supplied. Jason then seized the fleece, and, with his friends and his sweetheart accompanying, hastened to the vessel. It is said that, in order to delay the pursuit of her father Æetes, Medea tore to pieces her young brother Absyrtus and strewed fragments of him along the line of their flight. The ruse succeeded.

=165. The Return of the Argonauts.= On their way home the Argonauts beat a devious course, sailing after other dangers had been overcome, by the island that the Sirens infested. And here the heroes would have hung their halsers and remained, had not Orpheus vanquished the seductive strains of the sea-muses with his own more melodious and persuasive song.[239]

Oh, happy seafarers are ye And surely all your ills are past, And toil on the land and sea, Since ye are brought to us at last; chanted the Sirens, promising long rest and the kingdoms of sleep.

But now, but now, when ye have lain Asleep with us a little while Beneath the washing of the main, How calm shall be your waking smile!

Then Orpheus replied, encouraging his men:

A little more, a little more, O carriers of the Golden Fleece! A little labor with the oar, Before we reach the land of Greece.

E'en now, perchance, faint rumors reach Men's ears of this our victory, And draw them down on the beach To gaze across the empty sea.

Again the Sirens:

Alas! and will ye stop your ears, In vain desire to do aught, And wish to live 'mid cares and fears, Until the last fear makes you nought?

But Orpheus, reminding the rowers of home and love and joy:

Is not the May-time now on earth, When close against the city wall The folks are singing in their mirth, While on their heads the May flowers fall? carried them past triumphant.

The Argonauts arrived safe in Thessaly. Jason delivered the fleece to Pelias, and dedicated the Argo to Neptune.

=166. Medea and Æson.=[240] Medea's career as a sorceress was, by no means, completed. At Jason's request she undertook next to restore his aged father Æson to the vigor of youth. To the full moon she addressed her incantations, to the stars, to Hecate, to Tellus, the goddess of the earth. In a chariot borne aloft by dragons she traversed the fields of air to regions where flourished potent plants, which only she knew how to select. Nine nights she employed in her search, and during that period shunned all intercourse with mortals.

Next she erected two altars, the one to Hecate, the other to Hebe, and sacrificed a black sheep,--pouring libations of milk and wine. She implored Pluto and his stolen bride to spare the old man's life. Then she directed that Æson be led forth; and throwing him into a deep sleep, she laid him on a bed of herbs, like one dead. No eye profane looked on her mysteries. With streaming hair thrice she moved round the altars, dipped flaming twigs in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn. Meanwhile, the caldron with its contents was preparing. In it she put magic herbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid juice, stones from the distant East, and sand from the shore of all-surrounding ocean, hoar-frost gathered by moonlight, a screech owl's head and wings, and the entrails of a wolf.

She added fragments of the shells of tortoises and the liver of stags--animals tenacious of life--and the head and beak of a crow, which outlives nine generations of men. These, with many other things "without a name," she boiled together for her purposed work, stirring them with a dry olive branch. The branch, when taken out, instantly was green and erelong was covered with leaves and a plentiful growth of young olives; and as the liquor boiled and bubbled and sometimes bubbled over, the grass wherever the sprinklings fell leaped into verdure like that of spring.

Seeing that all was ready, Medea cut the throat of the old man, let out his blood, and poured into his mouth and his wound the juices of her caldron. As soon as he had completely imbibed them, his hair and beard lost their whiteness and assumed the color of youth; his paleness and emaciation were gone; his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor and robustness; and Æson, on awakening, found himself forty years younger.

=167. Pelias.=[241] In another instance, Medea made her arts the instrument of revenge. Pelias, the usurping uncle of Jason, still kept him out of his heritage. But the daughters of Pelias wished Medea to restore their father also to youth. Medea simulated consent, but prepared her caldron for him in a new and singular way. She put in only water and a few simple herbs. In the night she persuaded the daughters of Pelias to kill him. They at first hesitated to strike, but Medea chiding their irresolution, they turned away their faces and, giving random blows, smote him with their weapons. Starting from his sleep, the old man cried out, "My daughters, would you kill your father?" Whereat their hearts failed them, and the weapons fell from their hands. Medea, however, struck the fatal blow.

They placed him in the caldron, but, as might be expected, with no success. Medea herself had taken care to escape before they discovered the treachery. She had, however, little profit of the fruits of her crime. Jason, for whom she had sacrificed so much, put her away, for he wished to marry Creüsa, princess of Corinth. Whereupon Medea, enraged at his ingratitude, called on the gods for vengeance; then, sending a poisoned robe as a gift to the bride, killing her own children, and setting fire to the palace, she mounted her serpent-drawn chariot and fled to Athens. There she married King Ægeus, the father of Theseus; and we shall meet her again when we come to the adventures of that hero.[242]

The incantation of Medea readily suggests that of the witches in Macbeth:

Round about the caldron go; In the poison'd entrails throw.-- Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Swelter'd venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i' the charmèd pot.... Fillet of a fenny snake In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg and howlet's wing,-- For a charm of powerful trouble Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.... Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches' mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digged i' the dark.... Make the gruel thick and slab.[243]

FOOTNOTES:

[233] § 144.

[234] Apollodorus, 1, 9, § 1; Apollonius Rhodius, 1, 927.

[235] Ovid, Metam. 6, 667; 7, 143. The Argonautica of Apollonius of Rhodes.

[236] See § 120.

[237] See Table G, Commentary, § 103.

[238] Dyer, The Fleece.

[239] William Morris, Life and Death of Jason.

[240] Ovid, Metam. 7, 143-293.

[241] Ovid, Metam. 7, 297-353.

[242] § 176.

[243] Macbeth, IV, i. Consult.

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=168. The Calydonian Hunt.=[244] One of the heroes of the Argonautic expedition had been Meleager, a son of [OE]neus and Althæa, rulers of Calydon in Ætolia. His parents were cousins, descended from a son of Endymion named Ætolus, who had colonized that realm. By ties of kinship and marriage they were allied with many historic figures. Their daughter Dejanira had become, as we have already noted, the wife of Hercules; while Leda, the sister of Althæa, was mother of Castor and Pollux,[245] and of Clytemnestra and Helen, intimately concerned in the Trojan War.

When her son Meleager was born, Althæa had beheld the three Destinies, who, as they spun their fatal thread, foretold that the life of the child should last no longer than a certain brand then burning on the hearth. Althæa seized and quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it while Meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and man's estate. It chanced, then, that [OE]neus, offering sacrifices to the gods, omitted to pay due honors to Diana; wherefore she, indignant at the neglect, sent a boar of enormous size to lay waste the fields of Calydon. Meleager called on the heroes of Greece to join in a hunt for the ravenous monster. Theseus and his friend Pirithoüs,[246] Jason, Peleus the father of Achilles, Telamon the father of Ajax, Nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms with Achilles and Ajax in the Trojan War,[247]--these and many more joined in the enterprise.

With them came, also, Atalanta, the daughter of Iasius, of the race of Callisto,--

Arcadian Atalanta, snowy-souled, Fair as the snow and footed as the wind.[248]

A buckle of polished gold confined her vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand bore the bow. Her face blended feminine beauty with the graces of martial youth. Meleager saw and, with chivalric reverence, somewhat thus addressed her:

For thy name's sake and awe toward thy chaste head, O holiest Atalanta! no man dares Praise thee, though fairer than whom all men praise, And godlike for thy grace of hallowed hair And holy habit of thine eyes, and feet That make the blown foam neither swift nor white, Though the wind winnow and whirl it; yet we praise Gods, found because of thee adorable And for thy sake praiseworthiest from all men: Thee therefore we praise also, thee as these, Pure, and a light lit at the hands of gods.[249]

But there was no time then for love; on to the hunt they pushed. To the hunt went also Plexippus and Toxeus, brothers of Queen Althæa, braggarts, envious of Meleager. Speedily the hunters drew near the monster's lair. They stretched strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs; they sought the footprints of their quarry in the grass. From the wood was a descent to marshy ground. Here the boar, as he lay among the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers and rushed forth against them. One and another is thrown down and slain. Then all abode save one, The Arcadian Atalanta: from her side Sprang her hounds, laboring at the leash, and slipped, And plashed ear-deep with plunging feet; but she Saying, "Speed it as I send it for thy sake, Goddess," drew bow and loosed; the sudden string Rang, and sprang inward, and the waterish air Hissed, and the moist plumes of the songless reeds Moved as a wave which the wind moves no more. [1]

It was a slight wound, but Meleager saw and joyfully proclaimed it. The attack was renewed. Peleus, Amphiaraüs, Theseus, Jason, hurled their lances. Ancæus was laid low by a mortal wound. But Meleager,--

Rock-rooted, fair with fierce and fastened lips, Clear eyes and springing muscle and shortening limb-- With chin aslant indrawn to a tightening throat, Grave, and with gathered sinews, like a god,-- Aimed on the left side his well-handled spear, Grasped where the ash was knottiest hewn, and smote, And with no missile wound, the monstrous boar Right in the hairiest hollow of his hide, Under the last rib, sheer through bulk and bone, Deep in; and deeply smitten, and to death, The heavy horror with his hanging shafts Leapt, and fell furiously, and from raging lips Foamed out the latest wrath of all his life.[250]

Then rose a shout from those around; they glorified the conqueror,--crowded to touch his hand. But he, placing his foot on the head of the slain boar, turned to Atalanta, and bestowed on her the head and the rough hide--trophies of his success. Thereat she laughed--

Lit with a low blush to the braided hair, And rose-colored and cold like very dawn, Golden and godlike, chastely with chaste lips, A faint grave laugh; and all they held their peace, And she passed by them. Then one cried, "Lo now, Shall not the Arcadian shoot out lips at us, Saying all we were despoiled by this one girl?" [251]

Of this fearful sequel to the hunt, Althæa has heard nothing. As she bears thank offering to the temples for the victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers meet her sight. She shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change the garments of joy for those of mourning. But when the author of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire of vengeance on her son. The fatal brand, which the Destinies have linked with Meleager's life, she brings forth. She commands a fire to be prepared. Four times she essays to place the brand on the pile; four times draws back, shuddering before the destruction of her son. The feelings of the mother and the sister contend within her. Now she is pale at the thought of the purposed deed, now flushed again with anger at the violence of her offspring. Finally, the sister prevails over the mother:--turning away her face, she throws the fatal wood on the burning pile.

Meleager, absent and unconscious of the cause, feels a sudden pang. He burns; he calls on those whom he loves, Atalanta and his mother. But speedily the brand is ashes, and the life of Meleager is breathed forth to the wandering winds.

When at last the deed was done, the mother laid violent hands on herself.

=169. = A heroine connected by blood with Atalanta was Merope,[252] daughter of king Cypselus of Arcadia, and descended from Arcas, the son of Callisto and Jupiter. On account of her relationship to Atalanta her story may be told here, though she is not a member of the family of Ætolus. Her husband, Cresphontes the Heraclid, king of Messenia, had been slain with two of his sons by rebellious nobles; and one Polyphontes, leader of the revolt, reigned in his stead and took Merope to wife. But her third son by Cresphontes, Æpytus, had been concealed by her in Arcadia. Thence, in due season, he returned unknown to her, with the purpose of wreaking vengeance on the murderers of his sire. He pretended to have slain Æpytus, and so as a stranger won the favor of Polyphontes, but came near losing his life at his mother's hands.

A recognition being happily effected, Æpytus, aided by his mother, put Polyphontes to death and took possession of the kingdom. This story has been frequently dramatized, first by Euripides in a lost play called Cresphontes, and most recently by Matthew Arnold, whose Merope is a masterpiece of classical invention and of poetic execution.

=170. Castor and Pollux.= Leda, the sister of Althæa and aunt of Meleager, bore to Tyndareus, king of Sparta, Castor and Clytemnestra. To Jove she bore Pollux and Helen. Pollux and Castor--one, the son of a god and immortal, the other, of mortal breed and destiny--are famous for their fraternal affection. Endowed with various manly virtues,--Castor a horse-tamer, Pollux a boxer,--they made all expeditions in common. Together they joined the Calydonian hunt. Together they accompanied the Argonauts. During the voyage to Colchis it is said that, a storm arising, Orpheus prayed to the Samothracian gods and played on his harp, and that when the storm ceased, stars appeared on the heads of the brothers. Hence they came to be honored as patrons of voyagers.

They rendered, indeed, noteworthy service to the Argonauts returning from Colchis with Medea and the Golden Fleece. For when the voyagers attempted a landing at Crete they were confronted by the gigantic warder of the island. This was Talus, a form of living brass, fashioned by Hephæstus (Vulcan) and presented to King Minos, about whose Cretan domain he made his rounds three times a day. Ordinarily when Talus saw voyagers nearing the coast he fired himself red-hot and embraced them as they landed. For some reason he did not welcome the Argonauts in this warm fashion, but

Whirling with resistless sway Rocks sheer uprent, repels them from the bay.[1]

Medea, objecting to the volley of stones, resorts to necromantic spells:

Thrice she applies the power of magic prayer, Thrice, hellward bending, mutters charms in air; Then, turning toward the foe, bids Mischief fly, And looks Destruction as she points her eye.[253]

Maddened, as might be surmised, by so insidious and unaccustomed a form of attack, the Man of Brass "tears up whole hills to crush his foes"; then fleeing in sudden panic, he is overcome by the stupor of the enchantment and taken captive by Castor and Pollux. He had in his body only one vein, and that plugged on the crown of his head with a nail. Medea drew out the stopper.

At a later period when Theseus and his friend Pirithoüs had carried off Helen from Sparta, the youthful heroes, Castor and Pollux, with their followers hasted to the rescue. Theseus being absent from Attica, the brothers recovered their sister. Later still, we find Castor and Pollux engaged in a combat with Idas and Lynceus of Messene, some say over the daughters of Leucippus, others, over a herd of oxen. Castor was slain; but Pollux, inconsolable for the loss of his brother, besought Jupiter to be permitted to give his own life as a ransom for him. Jupiter so far consented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon of life alternately, each spending one day under the earth and the next in the heavenly abodes. According to another version, Jupiter rewarded the attachment of the brothers by placing them among the stars as Gemini, the Twins. [254]

=171. The Twin Brethren among the Romans.= In Rome they were honored with a temple in the Forum and made the patrons of knighthood because of the assistance they rendered in the battle of Lake Regillus. In the moment of dire distress they had appeared, a princely pair:

So like they were, no mortal Might one from other know; White as snow their armor was, Their steeds were white as snow. Never on earthly anvil Did such rare armor gleam, And never did such gallant steeds Drink of an earthly stream.

And all who saw them trembled, And pale grew every cheek; And Aulus the Dictator Scarce gathered voice to speak: "Say by what name men call you? What city is your home? And wherefore ride ye in such guise Before the ranks of Rome?"

(Left portion)]

"By many names," they answered,--

"By many names men call us; In many lands we dwell: Well Samothracia knows us; Cyrene knows us well; Our house in gay Tarentum Is hung each morn with flowers; High o'er the masts of Syracuse Our marble portal towers; But by the brave Eurotas Is our dear native home; And for the right we come to fight Before the ranks of Rome."

After the battle was won they were the first to bear the tidings to the city. With joy the people acclaimed them,--

But on rode these strange horsemen, With slow and lordly pace; And none who saw their bearing Durst ask their name or race. On rode they to the Forum, While laurel boughs and flowers, From housetops and from windows, Fell on their crests in showers. When they drew nigh to Vesta, They vaulted down amain, And washed their horses in the well That springs by Vesta's fane. And straight again they mounted, And rode to Vesta's door; Then, like a blast, away they passed, And no man saw them more....

And Sergius the High Pontiff Alone found voice to speak: "The gods who live forever Have fought for Rome to-day! These be the Great Twin Brethren To whom the Dorians pray. Back comes the chief in triumph Who, in the hour of fight, Hath seen the Great Twin Brethren In harness on his right. Safe comes the ship to haven, Through billows and through gales If once the Great Twin Brethren Sit shining on the sails.... Here, hard by Vesta's temple, Build we a stately dome Unto the Great Twin Brethren Who fought so well for Rome!"[255]

(Right portion)]

For many a year the procession, in which the knights, olive-wreathed and purple-robed, marched in honor of the Twin Brethren, continued to be held; and still there stand three columns of their temple above the pool of Juturna and Vesta's ruined shrine.

FOOTNOTES:

[244] Ovid, Metam. 8, 260-546.

[245] § 170.

[246] § 180.

[247] Chapter XXI.

[248] From Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon.

[249] From Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon.

[250] From Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon.

[251] From Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon.

[252] Hyginus, Fab. 184; Apollodorus, 2, 8; Pausanias, 2, 18; 4, 3, etc.; Aristotle, Poetics, 14, 9.

[253] Apollonius Rhodius, 4, 1629 (Broome's translation). See also Apollodorus, 1; 9, 26.

[254] Hyginus, Fab. 80; Ovid, Fasti, 100. Theocritus, Idyl XXII, gives a different version.

[255] Macaulay, Lays of Ancient Rome, The Battle of Lake Regillus.

=172. Minos fra Kreta= var en etterkommer av Inachos i sjette ledd. Han var sønn av Jupiter og Europa, og ble etter døden overført, sammen med sin bror Rhadamanthus og kong Aiakos, til Hades, hvor de tre ble dommere for skyggene (de døde). Dette er den Minos som nevnes av Homer og Hesiod, – den fremstående lovgiver. Om hans sønnesønn, Minos II, fortelles det at da han søkte tronen på Kreta, skrøt han av sin evne til å få hva han ønsket ved bønn, og som en prøve bønnfalt han Neptun om å sende ham en okse til ofring. Oksen kom, men Minos, forbløffet over dens store skjønnhet, nektet å ofre dyret. Neptun, som ble rasende, gjorde oksen vill – enda verre, han gjorde Pasifaë, Minos' hustru, villt forelsket i den. Det forunderlige dyret ble til slutt fanget og beseiret av Hercules, som red det gjennom bølgene til Hellas.

Men dets avkom, Minotauros, et uhyre med oksehode og menneskekropp, forble i lang tid en skrekk for Kreta, inntil en berømt kunstsmed, Daidalos, til slutt bygde en labyrint for den, med ganger og svinger som buktet seg inn og ut liksom elven Maiandros, slik at den som ble stengt inne i den, på ingen måte kunne finne veien ut. Minotauros, som streifet om der, levde av menneskeofre. [257]

=173. =[258] Daidalos, som hadde bistått Pasifaës lidenskap for den kretiske oksen, falt senere i unåde hos Minos og ble fengslet av ham. Da han ikke så noen annen måte å flykte på, laget kunstneren av fjær vinger til sin sønn Ikaros og seg selv, som han festet med voks. Så løftet de seg i luften og fløy av sted. Ikaros var blitt advart mot å nærme seg solen for mye, og alt gikk bra til de hadde passert Samos og Delos til venstre og Lebynthos til høyre. Men da steg gutten, triumferende over sin ferd, høyere opp. Den brennende solens glød smeltet voksfestet på vingene hans. [259]

Historien, unntatt dens tragiske slutt, lyder som en bemerkelsesverdig foregripelse av brødrene Wrights, Blériots og Lathams bragder med fly i dag, eller av grev Zeppelins med luftskip.

Daidalos, som sørget over sin sønn, kom til slutt til Sicilia, der han ble vennlig mottatt av kong Cocalus. Han bygde et tempel til Apollon og hengte opp vingene sine som et offer til guden. Men Minos, som hadde fått vite om kunstnerens skjulested, fulgte etter ham til Sicilia med en stor flåte; og Daidalos ville sikkert ha omkommet, hvis ikke en av Cocalus' døtre hadde kvittet seg med Minos ved å skålde ham i hjel mens han badet.

Det sies at Daidalos ikke kunne tåle tanken på en rival. Hans søster hadde satt sin sønn Perdix under hans omsorg for å lære de mekaniske kunster. Han var en dyktig elev og viste slående bevis på oppfinnsomhet. Mens han gikk på stranden, plukket han opp ryggbeinet av en fisk, og ved å etterligne det i jern, oppfant han sagen. Han fant også opp et passer. Men Daidalos, misunnelig på nevøen, dyttet ham fra et tårn og drepte ham. Minerva forbarmet seg imidlertid over gutten og forvandlet ham til en fugl, rapphønen, som bærer hans navn.

Til Inachos' etterkommere skal vi vende tilbake igjen i beretningen om Labdakos' hus.

FOTNOTER:

[256] § 143.

[257] § 177. Apollodorus, 3, 1, § 3; 15, § 8; Pausanias, 1, 27, § 9, etc.; Ovid, Metam. 7, 456.

[258] Virgil, Æneid, 6, 14-36; Ovid, Metam. 8, 152-259; Hyginus, Fab. 40, 44.

[259] Erasmus Darwin.

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=174. = Cecrops, half-snake, half-man, came from Crete or Egypt into Attica, founded Athens, and chose Minerva rather than Neptune as its guardian. His successor was Erichthonius,[261] or Erechtheus, a snake-formed genius of the fertile soil of Attica. This Erichthonius[262] was a special ward of the goddess Minerva, who brought him up in her temple. His son Pandion had two daughters, Procne and Philomela, of whom he gave the former in marriage to Tereus, king of Thrace (or of Daulis in Phocis). This ruler, after his wife had borne him a son Itys (or Itylus), wearied of her, plucked out her tongue by the roots to insure her silence, and, pretending that she was dead, took in marriage the other sister, Philomela. Procne by means of a web, into which she wove her story, informed Philomela of the horrible truth. [263]

=175. Matthew Arnold's Philomela.=

Hark! ah, the nightingale-- The tawny-throated! Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark!--what pain! O wanderer from a Grecian shore, Still, after many years in distant lands, Still nourishing in thy bewilder'd brain That wild, unquench'd, deep-sunken, old-world pain-- Say, will it never heal? And can this fragrant lawn With its cool trees, and night, And the sweet, tranquil Thames, And moonshine, and the dew, To thy rack'd heart and brain Afford no calm?

Dost thou to-night behold, Here, through the moonlight on this English grass, The unfriendly palace in the Thracian wild? Dost thou again peruse, With hot cheeks and sear'd eyes, The too clear web, and thy dumb sister's shame? Dost thou once more assay Thy flight, and feel come over thee, Poor fugitive, the feathery change Once more, and once more seem to make resound With love and hate, triumph and agony, Lone Daulis, and the high Cephissian vale? Listen, Eugenia-- How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves! Again--thou hearest? Eternal passion! Eternal pain!

According to another version of this story, it was Philomela who was robbed of her tongue and who wove the web by means of which the queen Procne learned the truth.

=176. =[264] A descendant of Erechtheus, or of Cecrops, was Ægeus, king of Athens. By Æthra, granddaughter of Pelops, he became the father of the Attic hero, Theseus. Ægeus, on parting from Æthra, before the birth of the child, had placed his sword and shoes under a large stone and had directed her to send the child to him if it should prove strong enough to roll away the stone and take what was under. The lad Theseus was brought up at Tr[oe]zen, of which Pittheus, Æthra's father, was king. When Æthra thought the time had come, she led Theseus to the stone. He removed it with ease and took the sword and shoes.

Since at that time the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather Pittheus pressed him earnestly to take the shorter and safer way to his father's country, by sea; but the youth, feeling in himself the spirit and soul of a hero and eager to signalize himself like Hercules, determined on the more perilous and adventurous journey by land.

His first day's journey brought him to Epidaurus, where dwelt Periphetes, a son of Vulcan. This ferocious savage always went armed with a club of iron, and all travelers stood in terror of his violence; but beneath the blows of the young hero he speedily fell.

Several similar contests with the petty tyrants and marauders of the country followed, in all of which Theseus was victorious. Most important was his slaughter of Procrustes, or the Stretcher. This giant had an iron bedstead on which he used to tie all travelers who fell into his hands. If they were shorter than the bed, he stretched them till they fitted it; if they were longer than the bed, he lopped off their limbs.

In the course of time Theseus reached Athens, but here new dangers awaited him. For Medea, the sorceress, who had fled from Corinth after her separation from Jason,[265] had become the wife of Ægeus. Knowing by her arts who the stranger was, and fearing the loss of her influence with her husband if Theseus should be acknowledged as his son, she tried to poison the youth; but the sword which he wore discovered him to his father and prevented the fatal draft. Medea fled to Asia, where the country afterwards called Media is said to have received its name from her. Theseus was acknowledged by his sire and declared successor to the throne.

=177. Theseus and= =Ariadne.=[266] Now the Athenians were at that time in deep affliction on account of the tribute of youths and maidens which they were forced to send to the Minotaur, dwelling in the labyrinth of Crete,--a penalty said to have been imposed by Minos on the Athenians because Ægeus had sent Androgeüs, the son of Minos, against the Marathonian bull and so had brought about the young man's death.

From this calamity Theseus resolved to deliver his countrymen or to die in the attempt. He, therefore, in spite of the entreaties of his father, presented himself as champion of Athens and of her fair sons and daughters, to do battle against the Minotaur, and departed with the victims in a vessel bearing black sails, which he promised his father to change for white in the event of his returning victorious. So,--

Rather than cargo on cargo of corpses undead should be wafted[267] Over the ravening sea to the pitiless monster of Creta,-- Leaving the curvèd strand Piræan, and wooing the breezes, Theseus furrowed the deep to the dome superb of the tyrant. --God-born boy, thou pitiless heart, provoker of madness, Mischievous, mingling care with the fleeting pleasure of mortals,-- Goddess of Golgi, thou, frequenter of coverts Idalian, In what wildering seas ye tossed the impassionate maiden Ever a-sighing,--aye for the fair-haired stranger a-sighing! Ah, what ponderous fears oppressed her languishing bosom, How, more pallid than gold her countenance flashed into whiteness, What time Theseus marched unto death or to glory undying, Manful, minded to quell the imbruted might of the monster!

Not unaided, however, did he undertake the task; for Ariadne, apprehensive lest he might lose his way in the dædalian labyrinth, furnished him with a thread, the gift of Vulcan, which, unrolled by Theseus as he entered the maze, should enable him on his return to retrace his former path. Meanwhile--

Offering artless bribes, Ariadne invoked the Immortals, Kindled voiceless lip with unvoicèd tribute of incense, Suppliant, not in vain: for, like to an oak on Taurus, Gnarlèd, swinging his arms,--like some cone-burthenèd pine tree Oozing the life from his bark, that, riven to heart by the whirlwind, Wholly uprooted from earth, falls prone with extravagant ruin, Perishes, dealing doom with precipitate rush of its branches,-- So was the Cretan brute by Theseus done to destruction, E'en so, tossing in vain his horns to the vacuous breezes. Then with abundant laud he turned, unscathed from the combat, Theseus,--guiding his feet unsure by the filament slender, Lest as he threaded paths circuitous, ways labyrinthine, Some perverse, perplexing, erratic alley might foil him.

Why should I tarry to tell how, quitting her sire, Ariadne Quitting the sister's arms, the infatuate gaze of the mother,-- She whose sole delight, whose life, was her desperate daughter,-- How Ariadne made less of the love of them all than of Theseus? Why should I sing how sailing they came to the beaches of Dia,-- White with the foam,--how thence, false-hearted, the lover departing Left her benighted with sleep, the Minoïd, princess of Creta?

Gazing amain from the marge of the flood-reverberant Dia, Chafing with ire, indignant, exasperate,--lo, Ariadne, Lorn Ariadne, beholds swift craft, swift lover retreating. Nor can be sure she sees what things she sees of a surety, When upspringing from sleep, she shakes off treacherous slumber, Lone beholds herself on a shore forlorn of the ocean. Carelessly hastens the youth, meantime, who, driving his oar-blades Hard in the waves, consigns void vows to the blustering breezes. But as, afar from the sedge, with sad eyes still the Minoïd Mute as a Mænad in stone unmoving stonily gazes-- Heart o'erwhelmed with woe--ah, thus, while thus she is gazing,-- Down from her yellow hair slips, sudden, the weed of the fine-spun Snood, and the vesture light of her mantle down from the shoulders Slips, and the twisted scarf encircling her womanly bosom; Stealthily gliding, slip they downward into the billow, Fall, and are tossed by the buoyant flood at the feet of the fair one.

Then, they say, that at last, infuriate out of all measure, Once and again she poured shrill-voicèd shrieks from her bosom; Helpless, clambered steeps, sheer beetling over the surges, Whence to enrange with her eyes vast futile regions of ocean;-- Lifting the folds, soft folds of her garments, baring her ankles, Dashed into edges of upward waves that trembled before her; Uttered, anguished then, one wail, her maddest and saddest,-- Catching with tear-wet lips poor sobs that shivering choked her:-- "Thus is it far from my home, O traitor, and far from its altars-- Thus on a desert strand,--dost leave me, treacherous Theseus? Thus is it thou dost flout our vow, dost flout the Immortals,-- Carelessly homeward bearest, with baleful ballast of curses? Never, could never a plea forfend thy cruelly minded Counsel? Hence, let never a maid confide in the oath of a lover, Never presume man's vows hold aught trustworthy within them!

Verily, while in anguish of heart his spirit is longing, Nothing he spares to assever, nor aught makes scruple to promise: But, an his dearest desire, his nearest of heart be accorded-- Nothing he recks of affiance, and reckons perjury,--nothing.

"Oh! what lioness whelped thee? Oh! what desolate cavern? What was the sea that spawned, that spat from its churning abysses, Thee,--what wolfish Scylla, or Syrtis, or vasty Charybdis, Thee,--thus thankful for life, dear gift of living, I gave thee?... Had it not liked thee still to acknowledge vows that we plighted, Mightest thou homeward, yet, have borne me a damsel beholden, Fain to obey thy will, and to lave thy feet like a servant, Fain to bedeck thy couch with purple coverlet for thee.

Yea, but where shall I turn? 'Haste to the Gnossian hills?' 'Comfort my heart, mayhap, with the loyal love of my husband?' -- Nought but the homeless strand of an isle remote of the ocean! No, no way of escape, where the circling sea without shore is,-- No, no counsel of flight, no hope, no sound of a mortal; All things desolate, dumb, yea, all things summoning deathward! Yet mine eyes shall not fade in death that sealeth the eyelids, Nor from the frame outworn shall fare my lingering senses, Ere, undone, from powers divine I claim retribution-- Ere I call--in the hour supreme, on the faith of Immortals!

"Come, then, Righters of Wrong, O vengeful dealers of justice, Braided with coil of the serpents, O Eumenides, ye of Brows that blazon ire exhaling aye from the bosom, Haste, oh, haste ye, hither and hear me, vehement plaining, Destitute, fired with rage, stark-blind, demented for fury!-- As with careless heart yon Theseus sailed and forgot me, So with folly of heart, may he slay himself and his household!"... Then with a nod supreme Olympian Jupiter nodded: Quaked thereat old Earth,--quaked, shuddered the terrified waters, Ay, and the constellations in Heaven that glitter were jangled. Straightway like some cloud on the inward vision of Theseus Dropped oblivion down, enshrouding vows he had cherished, Hiding away all trace of the solemn behest of his father.

Even as clouds compelled by urgent push of the breezes Float from the brow uplift of a snow-envelopèd mountain, So from Theseus passed all prayer and behest of his father. Waited the sire meanwhile, looked out from his tower over ocean, Wasted his anxious eyes in futile labor of weeping, Waited expectant,--saw to the southward sails black-bellied-- Hurled him headlong down from the horrid steep to destruction,-- Weening hateful Fate had severed the fortune of Theseus. Theseus, then, as he paced that gloom of the home of his father, Insolent Theseus knew himself what manner of evil He with a careless heart had aforetime dealt Ariadne,-- Fixed Ariadne that still, still stared where the ship had receded,-- Wounded, revolving in heart her countless muster of sorrows.

=178. = But for the deserted daughter of Minos a happier fate was yet reserved. Sweeping over the shore, lo, beautiful, blooming Iacchus,-- Chorused of Satyrs in dance and of Nysian-born Sileni,-- Seeking fair Ariadne,--afire with flame of a lover! " to the cry, "Euhoe, O Bacchus!" [268]

So the grieving, much-wronged Ariadne was consoled for the loss of her mortal spouse by an immortal lover. The blooming god of the vine wooed and won her. After her death, the golden crown that he had given her was transferred by him to the heavens. As it mounted the ethereal spaces, its gems, growing in brightness, became stars; and still it remains fixed, as a constellation, between the kneeling Hercules and the man that holds the serpent.

=179. The Amazons.= As king of Athens, it is said that Theseus undertook an expedition against the Amazons. Assailing them before they had recovered from the attack of Hercules, he carried off their queen Antiope; but they in turn, invading the country of Athens, penetrated into the city itself; and there was fought the final battle in which Theseus overcame them.

=180. = A famous friendship between Theseus and Pirithoüs of Thessaly, son of Jupiter, originated in the midst of arms. Pirithoüs had made an irruption into the plain of Marathon and had carried off the herds of the king of Athens. Theseus went to repel the plunderers. "--"Thy friendship," replied the Athenian; and they swore inviolable fidelity. Their deeds corresponding to their professions, they continued true brothers in arms. When, accordingly, Pirithoüs was to marry Hippodamia, daughter of Atrax, Theseus took his friend's part in the battle that ensued between the Lapithæ (of whom Pirithoüs was king) and the Centaurs. For it happened that at the marriage feast, the Centaurs were among the guests; and one of them, Eurytion, becoming intoxicated, attempted to offer violence to the bride. Other Centaurs followed his example; combat was joined; Theseus leaped into the fray, and not a few of the guests bit the dust.

Later, each of these friends aspired to espouse a daughter of Jupiter. Theseus fixed his choice on Leda's daughter Helen, then a child, but afterwards famous as the cause of the Trojan War; and with the aid of his friend he carried her off, only, however, to restore her at very short notice. As for Pirithoüs, he aspired to the wife of the monarch of Erebus; and Theseus, though aware of the danger, accompanied the ambitious lover to the underworld. But Pluto seized and set them on an enchanted rock at his palace gate, where fixed they remained till Hercules, arriving, liberated Theseus but left Pirithoüs to his fate.

=181. = After the death of Antiope, Theseus married Phædra, sister of the deserted Ariadne, daughter of Minos. But Phædra, seeing in Hippolytus, the son of Theseus, a youth endowed with all the graces and virtues of his father and of an age corresponding to her own, loved him. When, however, he repulsed her advances, her love was changed to despair and hate. Hanging herself, she left for her husband a scroll containing false charges against Hippolytus. The infatuated husband, filled, therefore, with jealousy of his son, imprecated the vengeance of Neptune on him. As Hippolytus one day drove his chariot along the shore, a sea monster raised himself above the waters and frightened the horses so that they ran away and dashed the chariot to pieces. Hippolytus was killed, but by Æsculapius was restored to life, and then, removed by Diana from the power of his deluded father, was placed in Italy under the protection of the nymph Egeria.

In his old age, Theseus, losing the favor of his people, retired to the court of Lycomedes, king of Scyros, who at first received him kindly, but afterwards treacherously put him to death.

FOOTNOTES:

[260] Ovid, Metam. 2, 555; Apollodorus, 3, 14, § 1; Pausanias; and Hyginus, Fab. 48.

[261] Ovid, Metam. 2, 554; 6, 676; Homer, Iliad, 2, 547; Odyssey, 7, 81; Hyginus, Poet. Astr. 2, 13.

[262] For Ruskin's interpretation, see Queen of the Air, § 38.

[263] Hyginus, Fab. 45; Apollodorus, 3, 14, § 8; Ovid, Metam. 6, 412-676. See Commentary.

[264] Ovid, Metam. 7, 350-424; Plutarch, Theseus.

[265] § 167.

[266] Odyssey, 11, 321; Plutarch, Theseus; Catullus, LXIV.

[267] Catullus, LXIV. From The Wedding of Peleus and Thetis. A Translation in Hexameters, by Charles Mills Gayley.

[268] Catullus, LXIV (Charles Mills Gayley's translation).

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=182. The Misfortunes of Thebes.= Returning to the descendants of Inachus, we find that the curse which fell on Cadmus when he slew the dragon of Mars followed nearly every scion of his house. His daughters, Semele, Ino, Autonoë, Agave,--his grandsons, Melicertes, Actæon, Pentheus,--lived sorrowful lives or suffered violent deaths. The misfortunes of one branch of his family, sprung from his son Polydorus, remain to be told. The curse seems to have spared Polydorus himself. His son Labdacus, also, lived a quiet life as king of Thebes and left a son, Laïus, on the throne. But erelong Laïus was warned by an oracle that there was danger to his throne and life if his son, new-born, should reach man's estate. He, therefore, committed the child to a herdsman with orders for its destruction; but the herdsman, moved with pity yet not daring entirely to disobey, pierced the child's feet, purposing to expose him to the elements on Mount Cithæron.

=183. [OE]dipus and the Sphinx.=[269] In this plight the infant was given to a tender-hearted fellow-shepherd, who carried him to King Polybus of Corinth and his queen, by whom he was adopted and called [OE]dipus, or Swollen-foot.

Many years afterward, [OE]dipus, learning from an oracle that he was destined to be the death of his father, left the realm of his reputed sire, Polybus. It happened, however, that Laïus was then driving to Delphi, accompanied only by one attendant. In a narrow road he met [OE]dipus, also in a chariot. On the refusal of the youthful stranger to leave the way at their command, the attendant killed one of his horses. [OE]dipus, consumed with rage, slew both Laïus and the attendant, and thus unknowingly fulfilled both oracles.

Shortly after this event, the city of Thebes, to which [OE]dipus had repaired, was afflicted with a monster that infested the high-road. She was called the Sphinx. She had the body of a lion and the upper part of a woman. She lay crouched on the top of a rock and, arresting all travelers who came that way, propounded to them a riddle, with the condition that those who could solve it should pass safe, but those who failed should be killed. Not one had yet succeeded in guessing it. [OE]dipus, not daunted by these alarming accounts, boldly advanced to the trial. The Sphinx asked him, "What animal is it that in the morning goes on four feet, at noon on two, and in the evening on three?" [OE]dipus replied, "Man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in manhood walks erect, and in old age goes with the aid of a staff." The Sphinx, mortified at the collapse of her riddle, cast herself down from the rock and perished.

=184. [OE]dipus, the King.= In gratitude for their deliverance, the Thebans made [OE]dipus their king, giving him in marriage their queen, Jocasta. He, ignorant of his parentage, had already become the slayer of his father; in marrying the queen he became the husband of his mother. These horrors remained undiscovered till, after many years, Thebes being afflicted with famine and pestilence, the oracle was consulted, and, by a series of coincidences, the double crime of [OE]dipus came to light. At once, Jocasta put an end to her life by hanging herself. As for [OE]dipus, horror-struck,--

When her form He saw, poor wretch! with one wild fearful cry, The twisted rope he loosens, and she fell, Ill-starred one, on the ground. Then came a sight Most fearful. Tearing from her robe the clasps, All chased with gold, with which she decked herself, He with them struck the pupils of his eyes, With words like these: "Because they had not seen What ills he suffered, and what ills he did, They in the dark should look, in time to come, On those whom they ought never to have seen, Nor know the dear ones whom he fain had known." With suchlike wails, not once or twice alone, Raising his eyes he smote them, and the balls, All bleeding, stained his cheek.[270]

=185. [OE]dipus at Colonus.= After these sad events [OE]dipus would have left Thebes, but the oracle forbade the people to let him go. Jocasta's brother, Creon, was made regent of the realm for the two sons of [OE]dipus. But after [OE]dipus had grown content to stay, these sons of his, with Creon, thrust him into exile. Accompanied by his daughter Antigone, he went begging through the land. His other daughter, Ismene, at first stayed at home. Cursing the sons who had abandoned him, but bowing his own will in submission to the ways of God, [OE]dipus approached the hour of his death in Colonus, a village near Athens. His friend Theseus, king of Athens, comforted and sustained him to the last. Both his daughters were also with him:

And then he called his girls, and bade them fetch Clear water from the stream, and bring to him For cleansing and libation. And they went, Both of them, to yon hill we look on, Owned by Demeter of the fair green corn, And quickly did his bidding, bathed his limbs, And clothed them in the garment that is meet. And when he had his will in all they did, And not one wish continued unfulfilled, Zeus from the dark depths thundered, and the girls Heard it, and shuddering, at their father's knees, Falling they wept; nor did they then forbear Smiting their breasts, nor groanings lengthened out; And when he heard their bitter cry, forthwith Folding his arms around them, thus he spake: "My children, on this day ye cease to have A father. All my days are spent and gone; And ye no more shall lead your wretched life, Caring for me. Hard was it, that I know, My children! "[271]

There was sobbing, then silence. Then a voice called him,--and he followed. God took him from his troubles. Antigone returned to Thebes,--where, as we shall see, her sisterly fidelity showed itself as true as, aforetime, her filial affection.

Her brothers, Eteocles and Polynices, had meanwhile agreed to share the kingdom between them and to reign alternately year by year. The first year fell to the lot of Eteocles, who, when his time expired, refused to surrender the kingdom to his brother. Polynices, accordingly, fled to Adrastus, king of Argos, who gave him his daughter in marriage and aided him with an army to enforce his claim to the kingdom. These causes led to the celebrated expedition of the "Seven against Thebes," which furnished ample materials for the epic and tragic poets of Greece. And here the younger heroes of Greece make their appearance.

FOOTNOTES:

[269] Sophocles, [OE]dipus Rex, [OE]dipus Coloneus, Antigone; Euripides, Ph[oe]nissæ; Apollodorus, 3, 5, §§ 7, 8.

[270] Sophocles, [OE]dipus, the King (E. H. Plumptre's translation).

[271] Sophocles, [OE]dipus at Colonus, ll. 1600, etc. (E. H. Plumptre's translation).

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=186. Their Exploits.= The exploits of the sons and grandsons of the chieftains engaged in the Calydonian Hunt and the Quest of the Golden Fleece are narrated in four stories,--the Seven against Thebes, the Siege of Troy, the Wanderings of Ulysses, and the Adventures of Æneas.

=187. =[272] The allies of Adrastus and Polynices in the enterprise against Thebes were Tydeus of Calydon, half brother of Meleager, Parthenopæus of Arcadia, son of Atalanta and Mars, Capaneus of Argos, Hippomedon of Argos, and Amphiaraüs, the brother-in-law of Adrastus. Amphiaraüs opposed the expedition for, being a soothsayer, he knew that none of the leaders except Adrastus would live to return from Thebes; but on his marriage to Eriphyle, the king's sister, he had agreed that whenever he and Adrastus should differ in opinion, the decision should be left to Eriphyle. Polynices, knowing this, gave Eriphyle the necklace of Harmonia and thereby gained her to his interest. This was the selfsame necklace that Vulcan had given to Harmonia on her marriage with Cadmus; Polynices had taken it with him on his flight from Thebes. It seems to have been still fraught with the curse of the house of Cadmus.

But Eriphyle could not resist so tempting a bribe. By her decision the war was resolved on, and Amphiaraüs went to his fate. He bore his part bravely in the contest, but still could not avert his destiny. While, pursued by the enemy, he was fleeing along the river, a thunderbolt launched by Jupiter opened the ground, and he, his chariot, and his charioteer were swallowed up.

It is unnecessary here to detail all the acts of heroism or atrocity which marked this contest. The fidelity, however, of Evadne stands out as an offset to the weakness of Eriphyle. Her husband, Capaneus, having in the ardor of the fight declared that he would force his way into the city in spite of Jove himself, placed a ladder against the wall and mounted; but Jupiter, offended at his impious language, struck him with a thunderbolt. When his obsequies were celebrated, Evadne cast herself on his funeral pile and perished.

It seems that early in the contest Eteocles consulted the soothsayer Tiresias as to the issue. Now, this Tiresias in his youth had by chance seen Minerva bathing, and had been deprived by her of his sight, but afterwards had obtained of her the knowledge of future events. When consulted by Eteocles, he declared that victory should fall to Thebes if Men[oe]ceus, the son of Creon, gave himself a voluntary victim. The heroic youth, learning the response, threw away his life in the first encounter.

The siege continued long, with varying success. At length both hosts agreed that the brothers should decide their quarrel by single combat. They fought, and fell each by the hand of the other. The armies then renewed the fight; and at last the invaders were forced to yield, and fled, leaving their dead unburied. Creon, the uncle of the fallen princes, now became king, caused Eteocles to be buried with distinguished honor, but suffered the body of Polynices to lie where it fell, forbidding any one, on pain of death, to give it burial.

=188. Antigone=,[273] the sister of Polynices, heard with indignation the revolting edict which, consigning her brother's body to the dogs and vultures, deprived it of the rites that were considered essential to the repose of the dead. Unmoved by the dissuading counsel of her affectionate but timid sister, and unable to procure assistance, she determined to brave the hazard and to bury the body with her own hands. She was detected in the act. When Creon asked the fearless woman whether she dared disobey the laws, she answered:

Yes, for it was not Zeus who gave them forth, Nor justice, dwelling with the gods below, Who traced these laws for all the sons of men; Nor did I deem thy edicts strong enough, That thou, a mortal man, should'st overpass The unwritten laws of God that know no change. They are not of to-day nor yesterday, But live forever, nor can man assign When first they sprang to being. Not through fear Of any man's resolve was I prepared Before the gods to bear the penalty Of sinning against these. That I should die I knew (how should I not?), though thy decree Had never spoken. And before my time If I shall die, I reckon this a gain; For whoso lives, as I, in many woes, How can it be but he shall gain by death? And so for me to bear this doom of thine Has nothing fearful. But, if I had left My mother's son unburied on his death, In that I should have suffered; but in this I suffer not.[274]

Creon, unyielding and unable to conceive of a law higher than that he knew, gave orders that she should be buried alive, as having deliberately set at nought the solemn edict of the city. Her lover, Hæmon, the son of Creon, unable to avert her fate, would not survive her, and fell by his own hand. It is only after his son's death and as he gazes on the corpses of the lovers, that the aged Creon recognizes the insolence of his narrow judgment. And those that stand beside him say:

Man's highest blessedness In wisdom chiefly stands; And in the things that touch on the gods, 'T is best in word or deed, To shun unholy pride; Great words of boasting bring great punishments, And so to gray-haired age Teach wisdom at the last.[275]

=189. =[276] Such was the fall of the house of Labdacus. The bane of Cadmus expires with the family of [OE]dipus. But the wedding gear of Harmonia has not yet fulfilled its baleful mission. Amphiaraüs had, with his last breath, enjoined his son Alcmæon to avenge him on the faithless Eriphyle. Alcmæon engaged his word, but before accomplishing the fell purpose, he was ordered by an oracle of Delphi to conduct against Thebes a new expedition. Thereto his mother Eriphyle, influenced by Thersander, the son of Polynices, and bribed this time by the gift of Harmonia's wedding garment, impelled not only Alcmæon but her other son, Amphilochus. The descendants (Epigoni) of the former Seven thus renewed the war against Thebes. They leveled the city to the ground. Its inhabitants, counseled by Tiresias, took refuge in foreign lands. Tiresias himself perished during the flight.

Alcmæon, returning to Argos, put his mother to death but, in consequence, repeated in his own experience the penalty of Orestes. The outfit of Harmonia preserved its malign influence until, at last, it was devoted to the temple at Delphi and removed from the sphere of mortal jealousies.

FOOTNOTES:

[272] Æschylus, Seven against Thebes; Euripides, Ph[oe]nissæ; Apollodorus, 3. 6 and 7; Hyginus, Fab. 69, 70; Pausanias, 8 and 9; Statius, Thebaid.

[273] Sophocles, Antigone; Euripides, Suppliants.

[274] Sophocles, Antigone, ll. 450-470 (E. H. Plumptre's translation).

[275] Sophocles, Antigone, closing chorus.

[276] Pausanias, 9, 9, §§ 2, 3; Herodotus, 5, 61; Apollodorus.

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=190. Three Families.= Before entering on the causes of the war against Troy, we must notice the three Grecian families that were principally concerned,--those of Peleus, Atreus, and Tyndareus.

=191. Peleus=[277] was the son of Æacus and grandson of Jove. It was for his father Æacus, king of Phthia in Thessaly, that, as we have seen, an army of Myrmidons was created by Jupiter. Peleus joined the expedition of the Argonauts, and on that journey beheld and fell in love with the sea-nymph Thetis, daughter of Nereus and Doris. Such was the beauty of the nymph that Jupiter himself had sought her in marriage; but having learned from Prometheus, the Titan, that Thetis should bear a son who should be greater than his father, the Olympian desisted from his suit and decreed that Thetis should be the wife of a mortal. By the aid of Chiron, the Centaur, Peleus succeeded in winning the goddess for his bride. In this marriage, to be productive of momentous results for mortals, the immortals manifested a lively interest.

They thronged with the Thessalians to the wedding in Pharsalia; they honored the wedding feast with their presence and, reclining on ivory couches, gave ear while the three Sisters of Fate, in responsive strain, chanted the fortunes of Achilles,--the future hero of the Trojan War,--the son that should spring from this union of a goddess with a mortal. Now, on the day foreset, Aurora forsaking the ocean Crimsons the orient sky: all Thessaly, seeking the palace, Fares to the royal seat, in populous muster exultant, Heavy of hand with gifts, but blithesome of cheer for the joyance. Scyros behind they leave, they leave Phthiotican Tempe, Crannon's glittering domes and the battlements Larissæan, Cumber Pharsalia, throng the abodes and the streets of Pharsalus.

Fields, meanwhile are untilled, grow tender the necks of the oxen, None with the curving teeth of the harrow cleareth the vineyard, None upturneth the glebe with bull and the furrowing plowshare, None with gardener's knife lets light through the branches umbrageous; Squalid the rust creeps up o'er plows forgotten of plowmen.

Bright is the palace, ay, through far retreating recesses Blazing for sheen benign of the opulent gold and the silver: Ivory gleams on the thrones, great goblets glint on the tables, Glitters the spacious home, made glad with imperial splendor,-- Ay, but most--in the hall midmost--is the couch of the goddess, Glorious, made of the tusk of the Indian elephant--polished-- Spread with a wonder of quilt empurpled with dye of the sea-shell.

On this coverlet of purple were embroidered various scenes illustrating the lessons of heroism and justice that the poet would inculcate: to the good falleth good; to the evil, evil speedily. Therefore, the story of Theseus and Ariadne, which has already been recounted, was here displayed in cunning handiwork. For Theseus, the false lover, bold of hand but bad of heart, gained by retributive justice undying ruth and misery; whereas Ariadne, the injured and innocent, restored to happiness, won no less a reward than Bacchus himself. Gorgeously woven with such antique and heroic figures was the famous quilt on the couch of Thetis. For a season the wedding guests feasted their eyes on it.

Then when Thessaly's youth, long gazing, had of the wonder Their content, they gan give place to the lords of Olympus. As when Zephyr awakes the recumbent billows of ocean, Roughens the placid deep with eager breath of the morning, Urges the waves, and impels, to the threshold of journeying Ph[oe]bus,-- They, at first, blown outward unroughly when Dawn is a-rising, Limp slow-footed, and loiter with laughter lightsomely plashing, But, with the freshening gale, creep quicker and thicker together, Till on horizon they float refulgent of luminous purple,-- So from the portal withdrawing the pomp Thessalian departed Faring on world-wide ways to the far-off homes of their fathers.

Now when they were aloof, drew nigh from Pelion's summit Chiron bearing gifts from copses and glades of the woodland-- Gifts that the meadows yield: what flowers on Thessaly's mountains, Or, by waves of the stream, the prolific breath of the West Wind, Warming, woos to the day, all such in bunches assorted Bore he. Flattered with odors the whole house brake into laughter. Came there next Peneüs, abandoning verdurous Tempe-- Tempe embowered deep mid superimpendent forests.

And after the river-god, who bore with him nodding plane trees and lofty beeches, straight slim laurels, the lithe poplar, and the airy cypress to plant about the palace that thick foliage might give it shade, followed Prometheus, the bold and cunning of heart, wearing still the marks of his ancient punishment on the rocks of Caucasus. --Lo, each tremulous frame was wrapped in robe of a whiteness, Down to the ankles that fell, with nethermost border of purple, While on ambrosial brows there rested fillets like snowflakes. They, at a task eternal their hands religiously plying, Held in the left on high, with wool enfolded, a distaff, Delicate fibers wherefrom, drawn down, were shaped by the right hand-- Shaped by fingers upturned,--but the down-turned thumb set a-whirling, Poised with perfected whorl, the industrious shaft of the spindle.

Still, as they span, as they span, was the tooth kept nipping and smoothing, And to the withered lip clung morsels of wool as they smoothed it-- Filaments erstwhile rough that stood from the twist of the surface. Close at their feet, meantime, were woven baskets of wicker Guarding the soft white balls of the wool resplendent within them. Thus then, parting the strands, these Three with resonant voices Uttered, in chant divine, predestined sooth of the future-- Prophecy neither in time, nor yet in eternity, shaken.

"Thou that exaltest renown of thy name with the name of thy valor, Bulwark Emathian, blest above sires in the offspring of promise, Hear with thine ears this day what oracles fall from the Sisters Chanting the fates for thee;--but you, ye destiny-drawing Spindles, hasten the threads of the destinies set for the future!

"Rideth the orb on high that heralds boon unto bridegrooms-- Hesperus,--cometh anon with star propitious the virgin, Speedeth thy soul to subdue--submerge it with love at the flood tide. Hasten, ye spindles, and run, yea, gallop, ye thread-running spindles!

"Erstwhile, never a home hath roofed like generous loving, Never before hath Love conjoinèd lovers so dearly,-- Never with harmony such as endureth for Thetis and Peleus. Hasten, ye spindles, and run, yea, gallop, ye thread-running spindles!

"Born unto you shall be the undaunted heart of Achilles, Aye by his brave breast known, unknown by his back to the foeman,-- Victor in onslaught, victor in devious reach of the race-course, Fleeter of foot than feet of the stag that lighten and vanish,-- Hasten, ye spindles, and run, yea, gallop, ye thread-running spindles!"

=192. = So the sisters prophesied the future of the hero, Achilles,--from his father called Pelides; from his grandfather, Æacides. How by him the Trojans should fall, as fall the ears of corn when they are yellow before the scythe; how because of him Scamander should run red, warm with blood, choked with blind bodies, into the whirling Hellespont; how finally he himself, in his prime, should fall, and how on his tomb should be sacrificed the fair Polyxena, daughter of Priam, whom he had loved. "So," says Catullus, "sang the Fates.

For those were the days before piety and righteous action were spurned by mankind, the days when Jupiter and his immortals deigned to consort with zealous man, to enjoy the sweet odor of his burnt-offering, to march beside him to battle, to swell his shout in victory and his lament in defeat, to smile on his peaceful harvests, to recline at his banquets, and to bless the weddings of fair women and goodly heroes. But now, alas," concludes Catullus, "godliness and chastity, truth, wisdom, and honor have departed from among men":

Wherefore the gods no more vouchsafe their presence to mortals, Suffer themselves no more to be touched by the ray of the morning. But there were gods in the pure,--in the golden prime of the Ages.

The hero of the Trojan War, here prophesied, =Achilles=, fleet of foot, the dauntless, the noble, the beloved of Zeus, the breaker of the ranks of men, is the ideal hero of the Greeks,--the mightiest of the Achæans far. Of his youth many interesting stories are told: how his mother, endeavoring to make him invulnerable, plunged him in the river Styx, and succeeded save with regard to his ankles by which she held him; and how he was educated in eloquence and the arts of war by his father's friend Ph[oe]nix, and by his father's other friend Chiron, the centaur, in riding and hunting and music and the art of healing. One of the most Greek-minded of our English poets, Matthew Arnold,[279] singing of a beauteous dell by Etna, tells how

In such a glen, on such a day, On Pelion, on the grassy ground, Chiron, the aged Centaur, lay, The young Achilles standing by. The Centaur taught him to explore The mountains; where the glens are dry And the tired Centaurs come to rest, And where the soaking springs abound And the straight ashes grow for spears, And where the hill goats come to feed And the sea eagles build their nest. He showed him Phthia far away. And said, "O boy, I taught this lore To Peleus, in long distant years!" He told him of the gods, the stars, The tides;--and then of mortal wars, And of the life which heroes lead Before they reach the Elysian place And rest in the immortal mead; And all the wisdom of his race.

On the character of Achilles, outspoken, brave, impulsive; to his friends passionately devoted, to his foes implacable; lover of war and lover of home; inordinately ambitious but submissive to divine decree;--on this handsome, gleaming, terrible, glooming, princely warrior of his race, the poet of the Iliad delights to dwell, and the world has delighted in the portraiture from that day to this.

=193. Atreus= was the son of Pelops and Hippodamia and grandson of Tantalus, therefore great-grandson of Jove. Both by blood and by marriage he was connected with Theseus. He took to wife Aërope, granddaughter of Minos II, king of Crete, and by her had two sons, Agamemnon, the general of the Grecian army in the Trojan War, and Menelaüs, at whose solicitation the war was undertaken. Of Atreus it may be said that with cannibal atrocity like that of his grandsire, Tantalus, he on one occasion wreaked his vengeance on a brother, Thyestes, by causing him to eat the flesh of two of his own children. A son of this Thyestes, Ægisthus by name, revived in due time against Agamemnon the treacherous feud that had existed between their fathers.

=194. Tyndareus= was king of Lacedæmon (Sparta). His wife was Leda, daughter of Thestius of Calydon, and sister of Althæa, the mother of Meleager and Dejanira. To Tyndareus Leda bore Castor and Clytemnestra; to Jove she bore Pollux and Helen. The two former were mortal; the two latter, immortal. Clytemnestra was married to Agamemnon of Mycenæ, to whom she bore Electra, Iphigenia, Chrysothemis, and Orestes. Helen, the fair immediate cause of the Trojan War, became the wife of Menelaüs, who with her obtained the kingdom of Sparta.

Of the families of Peleus, Atreus, and Tyndareus, the genealogies will be found in the Commentary corresponding with these sections of the story; also the genealogy of Ulysses, one of the leaders of the Greek army during the war and the hero of the Odyssey, which narrates his subsequent adventures; and that of the royal family of Troy against whom the war was undertaken. A slight study of these family trees will reveal interesting relationships between the principal participants in the war. For instance: that the passionate Achilles and the intolerant Ajax, second only to Achilles in military prowess, are first cousins; and that the family of Ajax is connected by marriage with that of the Trojan Hector, whom he meets in combat. That Ulysses is a distant cousin of his wife Penelope and of Clytemnestra, the wife of Agamemnon; and that he is a kinsman of Patroclus, the bosom friend of Achilles.

In the family of Tyndareus we note most the tragic and romantic careers of the women,--Clytemnestra, who murdered her husband and married his cousin Ægisthus; Helen, whose beauty provoked war between her two husbands and their races; Penelope, whose fidelity to her absent lord is the marvel of the Odyssey. It will be noticed, too, that the daughter of Helen, Hermione, is strangely enough married first by the son of Achilles and, afterwards, by the son of Agamemnon, and so becomes sister-in-law to her noble cousins, Electra and Iphigenia.

The kinsmen and descendants of Peleus--Telamon, Ajax, Teucer, Achilles, Neoptolemus--are characterized by their personal valor, their intolerant and resentful temper. In the family of Atreus, the men are remarkable for their kingly attributes; the principal women for their unwavering devotion to religious duty. The members of the royal family of Troy are of richly varied and most unusual individuality: like Tithonus and Memnon, Paris, Hesione, Cassandra and Polyxena, poetic and pathetic; like Laomedon, Priam, Hector and Troilus, patriotic, persistent in the face of overwhelming odds; but all fated to a dolorous end. Of those engaged in the Trojan War, Æneas and his aged father, Anchises, beloved of Venus, are practically the only survivors to a happier day.

FOOTNOTES:

[277] Ovid, Metam. 11, 221-265; Catullus, LXIV; Hyginus, Fab. 14; Apollonius Rhodius. Argon. 1, 558; Valerius Flaccus, Argon.; Statius, Achilleid.

[278] Catullus, LXIV (Charles Mills Gayley's translation).

[279] Empedocles on Etna.

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... At length I saw a lady within call, Stiller than chisel'd marble, standing there: A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair.

Her loveliness with shame and with surprise Froze my swift speech: she turning on my face The starlike sorrows of immortal eyes, Spoke slowly in her place.

"I had great beauty; ask thou not my name: No one can be more wise than destiny. Many drew swords and died. Where'er I came I brought calamity."[280]

=195. Its Origin.= At the nuptials of Peleus and Thetis all the gods had been invited with the exception of Eris, or Discord. Enraged at her exclusion, the goddess threw a golden apple among the guests, with the inscription, "For the fairest." Thereupon Juno, Venus, and Minerva each claimed the apple. Not willing to decide so delicate a matter, Jupiter sent the goddesses to Mount Ida where Paris, son of Priam, king of Troy, was tending his flocks. Till that moment the shepherd-prince had been happy. He was young and beautiful and beloved,--"White-breasted like a star," says [OE]none, the nymph whom he had wedded:

White-breasted like a star Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard skin Dropp'd from his shoulder, but his sunny hair Cluster'd about his temples like a god's: And his cheek brighten'd as the foam-bow brightens When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart Went forth to embrace him coming ere he came.[1]

But to him was now committed the judgment between the goddesses. They appeared:

And at their feet the crocus brake like fire, Violet, amaracus, and asphodel, Lotos and lilies: and a wind arose, And overhead the wandering ivy and vine, This way and that, in many a wild festoon Ran riot, garlanding the gnarlèd boughs With bunch and berry and flower thro' and thro'.[281]

Juno promised him power and riches, Minerva glory and renown in war, Venus the fairest of women for his wife,--each attempting to bias the judge in her own favor. Paris, forgetting the fair nymph to whom he owed fealty, decided in favor of Venus, thus making the two other goddesses his enemies. Under the protection of the goddess of love, he soon afterwards sailed to Greece. Here he was hospitably received by Menelaüs, whose wife, Helen, as fairest of her sex, was unfortunately the prize destined for Paris. This fair queen had in time past been sought by numerous suitors; but before her decision was made known, they all, at the suggestion of Ulysses, son of Laërtes, king of Ithaca, had taken an oath that they would sustain her choice and avenge her cause if necessary.

She was living happily with Menelaüs when Paris, becoming their guest, made love to her, and then, aided by Venus, persuaded her to elope with him, and carried her to Troy. From this cause arose the famous Trojan War,--the theme of the greatest poems of antiquity, those of Homer and Virgil.

Menelaüs called on the chieftains of Greece to aid him in recovering his wife. They came forward with a few exceptions. Ulysses, for instance, who had married a cousin of Helen's, Penelope, daughter of Icarius, was happy in his wife and child, and loth to embark in the troublesome affair. Palamedes was sent to urge him. But when Palamedes arrived at Ithaca, Ulysses pretended madness. He yoked an ass and an ox together to the plow and began to sow salt. The ambassador, to try him, placed the infant Telemachus before the plow, whereupon the father, turning the plow aside, showed that his insanity was a mere pretense. Being himself gained for the undertaking, Ulysses lent his aid to bring in other reluctant chiefs, especially Achilles, son of Peleus and Thetis. Thetis being herself one of the immortals, and knowing that her son was fated to perish before Troy if he went on the expedition, endeavored to prevent his going.

She, accordingly, sent him to the court of King Lycomedes of the island of Scyros, and induced him to conceal himself in the garb of a maiden among the daughters of the king. Hearing that the young Achilles was there, Ulysses went disguised as a merchant to the palace and offered for sale female ornaments, among which had been placed some arms. Forgetting the part he had assumed, Achilles handled the weapons and thereby betrayed himself to Ulysses, who found no great difficulty in persuading him to disregard his mother's counsels and join his countrymen in the war.

It seems that from early youth Paris had been reared in obscurity, because there were forebodings that he would be the ruin of the state. These forebodings appeared, at last, likely to be realized; for the Grecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had ever been fitted out. Agamemnon, king of Mycenæ and brother of Menelaüs, was chosen commander in chief. Preëminent among the warriors was the swift-footed Achilles. After him ranked his cousin Ajax, the son of Telamon, gigantic in size and of great courage, but dull of intellect; Diomede, the son of Tydeus, second only to Achilles in all the qualities of a hero; Ulysses, famous for sagacity; and Nestor, the oldest of the Grecian chiefs, to whom they all looked up for counsel.

But Troy was no feeble enemy. Priam the king, son of Laomedon and brother of Tithonus and Hesione, was now old; but he had been a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good government at home and powerful alliances with his neighbors. By his wife Hecuba he had a numerous family; but the principal stay and support of his throne was his son Hector, one of the noblest figures of antiquity. The latter had, from the first, a presentiment of the ruin of Troy, but still he persevered in heroic resistance, though he by no means justified the wrong which brought this danger on his country. He was united in marriage with the noble Andromache, and as husband and father his character was not less admirable than as warrior. The principal leaders on the side of the Trojans, beside Hector, were his relative, Æneas, the son of Venus and Anchises, Deiphobus, Glaucus, and Sarpedon.

=196. Iphigenia in Aulis.= After two years of preparation, the Greek fleet and army assembled in the port of Aulis in B[oe]otia. Here Agamemnon, while hunting, killed a stag that was sacred to Diana. The goddess in retribution visited the army with pestilence and produced a calm which prevented the ships from leaving the port. Thereupon, Calchas the soothsayer announced that the wrath of the virgin goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin, and that none other but the daughter of the offender would be acceptable. Agamemnon, however reluctant, submitted to the inevitable and sent for his daughter Iphigenia, under the pretense that her marriage to Achilles was to be at once performed. But, in the moment of sacrifice, Diana, relenting, snatched the maiden away and left a hind in her place. Iphigenia, enveloped in a cloud, was conveyed to Tauris, where Diana made her priestess of her temple.[282]

Iphigenia is represented as thus describing her feelings at the moment of sacrifice:

"I was cut off from hope in that sad place, Which men call'd Aulis in those iron years: My father held his hand on his face; I, blinded with my tears,

"Still strove to speak: my voice was thick with sighs As in a dream. Dimly I could descry The stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes Waiting to see me die.

"The high masts flicker'd as they lay afloat;

The crowds, the temples, waver'd, and the shore;

The bright death quiver'd at the victim's throat;

Touch'd; and I knew no more."[283]

=197. Protesilaüs and Laodamia.= The wind now proving fair, the fleet made sail and brought the forces to the coast of Troy. The Trojans opposed their landing, and at the first onset one of the noblest of the Greeks, Protesilaüs, fell by the hand of Hector. This Protesilaüs had left at home his wife Laodamia (a niece of Alcestis),--who was most tenderly attached to him. The story runs that when the news of his death reached her, she implored the gods for leave to converse with him if but for three hours. The request was granted. Mercury led Protesilaüs back to the upper world; and when the hero died a second time Laodamia died with him. It is said that the nymphs planted elm trees round his grave, which flourished till they were high enough to command a view of Troy, then withered away, giving place to fresh branches that sprang from the roots.

Wordsworth has taken the story of Protesilaüs and Laodamia for a poem invested with the atmosphere of the classics. The oracle, according to the tradition, had declared that victory should be the lot of that party from which should fall the first victim in the war. The poet represents Protesilaüs, on his brief return to earth, relating to Laodamia the story of his fate:

"The wished-for wind was given:--I then revolved The oracle, on the silent sea; And, if no worthier led the way, resolved That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be The foremost prow in pressing to the strand,-- Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.

"Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter, was the pang When of thy loss I thought, belovèd Wife! On thee too fondly did my memory hang, And on the joys we shared in mortal life,-- The paths which we had trod--these fountains, flowers, My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers.

"But should suspense permit the foe to cry, 'Behold they tremble!--haughty their array, Yet of their number no one dares to die'? In soul I swept the indignity away: Old frailties then recurred:--but lofty thought, In act embodied, my deliverance wrought."...... On the side Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) A knot of spiry trees for ages grew From out the tomb of him for whom she died; And ever, when such stature they had gained That Ilium's walls were subject to their view, The trees' tall summits withered at the sight; A constant interchange of growth and blight!

=198. Homer's Iliad.= The war continued without decisive result for nine years. Then an event occurred which seemed likely to prove fatal to the cause of the Greeks,--a quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon. It is at this point that the great poem of Homer, the Iliad, begins.

Of this and the other epics from which the story is drawn an account will be found in Chapter XXXII below; and a list of the best English translations, in the corresponding sections of the Commentary. What delight one may derive from reading the Greek epics even in translation is nowhere better expressed than in the following sonnet of John Keats, "On First Looking into Chapman's Homer":

Much have I travel'd in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne: Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: --Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific--and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise-- Silent, on a peak in Darien.

=199. = The Greeks, though unsuccessful against Troy, had taken the neighboring and allied cities; and in the division of the spoil a female captive, by name Chryseïs, daughter of Chryses, priest of Apollo, had fallen to the share of Agamemnon. Chryses came bearing the sacred emblems of his office and begged the release of his daughter. Agamemnon refused. Thereupon Chryses implored Apollo to afflict the Greeks till they should be forced to yield their prey. Apollo granted the prayer of his priest and sent such pestilence on the Grecian camp, that a council was called to deliberate how to allay the wrath of the gods and avert the plague. Achilles boldly charged the misfortunes on Agamemnon as caused by his withholding Chryseïs. Agamemnon, in anger, consented, thereupon, to relinquish his captive, but demanded that Achilles should yield to him in her stead Briseïs, a maiden who had fallen to that hero's share in the division of the spoil.

Achilles submitted, but declared that he would take no further part in the war,--withdrew his forces from the general camp and avowed his intention of returning to Greece.

=200. The Enlistment of the Gods.= The gods and goddesses interested themselves as much in this famous siege as did the parties themselves. It was well known in heaven that fate had decreed the fall of Troy, if her enemies only persevered. Yet there was room for chance sufficient to excite by turns the hopes and fears of the powers above who took part with either side. Juno and Minerva, in consequence of the slight put on their charms by Paris, were hostile to the Trojans; Venus for the opposite cause favored them; she enlisted, also, her admirer Mars on the same side. Neptune favored the Greeks. Apollo was neutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the other. Jove himself, though he loved Priam, exercised a degree of impartiality,--not, however, without exceptions.

=201. Thetis intercedes for Achilles.= Resenting the injury done by Agamemnon to her son, Thetis, the silver-footed, repaired to Jove's palace, and besought him to grant success to the Trojan arms and so make the Greeks repent of their injustice to Achilles. The father of the gods, wavering at first, finally sighed and consented, saying, "Go thou now, but look to it that Juno see thee not, for oft she taunts me that I aid the Trojan cause." Vain precaution: the jealous queen had seen only too well, and quickly she confronted the Thunderer with her suspicions,--

"Fateful favor to Achilles, hast thou granted now I trow!" said she.

Zeus that rolls the clouds of heaven, her addressing answered then: "Moonstruck! thou art ever trowing; never I escape thy ken. After all, it boots thee nothing; leaves thee of my heart the less,-- So thou hast the worser bargain. What if I the fact confess? It was done because I willed it. Hold thy place--my word obey, Lest if I come near, and on thee these unconquered hands I lay, All the gods that hold Olympus naught avail thee here to-day."[284]

=202. = In the events which immediately follow we are introduced to the more important human personages on both sides. To begin with, Agamemnon, king of men, deceived by a dream sent by Jupiter, calls a council of the Greeks in which, desiring to arouse them to fresh onslaught on the Trojans, he tests their patience first by depicting the joys of the return home to Greece, and nearly overreaches himself in his cunning; for had it not been for the wise Nestor, king of sandy Pylos, and Ulysses of many devices, peer of Jove in wisdom, the common soldiers, fired with hope of viewing their dear native land and wives and little children once more, would have launched the ships and sailed forthwith. Among the murmuring host of those who clamor for retreat the leader is Thersites, uncontrolled of speech, full of disorderly words, striving idly against the chieftains, aiming ever to turn their authority into ridicule.

He is the one ludicrous character of the Iliad, this boaster and scandalmonger, sneering and turbulent of tongue:

His figure such as might his soul proclaim; One eye was blinking, and one leg was lame; His mountain shoulders half his breast o'erspread, Thin hairs bestrewed his long misshapen head. Spleen to mankind his envious heart possest, And much he hated all, but most the best. Ulysses or Achilles still his theme; But royal scandal his delight supreme.[1]

Him Ulysses hearing rebukes, raising his scepter to strike:

"Peace, factious monster, born to vex the state, With wrangling talents formed for foul debate.... Have we not known thee, slave of all our host, The man who acts the least, upbraids the most?..." He said, and cowering as the dastard bends, The weighty scepter on his back descends: On the round bunch the bloody tumors rise; The tears spring starting from his haggard eyes: Trembling he sat, and, shrunk in abject fears, From his wild visage wiped the scalding tears.[285]

The revolt is thus stayed. A banquet of the Greek chieftains is then held, merely of the greatest--Nestor, Idomeneus of Crete, Ajax the son of Telamon and cousin of Achilles, and Ajax the less, son of Oïleus, Ulysses, also, and Agamemnon himself. Menelaüs comes, unbid but not unwelcome. Sacrifices are offered, but in vain; Jove heeds them not. Finally, a muster of the Greek troops, by nations and by kings, is determined on; and so the army is set in array.

=203. Paris plays the Champion.= Likewise the army of the Trojans; and battle is about to be joined when forth from the Trojan ranks steps Paris himself to challenge some champion of the opposing host to single combat,--the beauteous Paris,

In form a god! The panther's speckled hide Flowed o'er his armor with an easy pride,-- His bended bow across his shoulders flung, His sword beside him negligently hung, Two pointed spears he shook with gallant grace, And dared the bravest of the Grecian race.[1]

Him, Menelaüs whom he had betrayed, Menelaüs loved of Mars, raging like a lion, swift espies and, leaping from his chariot, hastens to encounter. But Paris, smitten with a sense of his own treachery, fearful, trembling, pale at sight of the avenger, betakes himself to his heels and hides in the thick of the forces behind. Upbraided, however, by the generous Hector, noblest of Priam's sons, the handsome Trojan recovers his self-possession and consents to meet Menelaüs in formal combat between the opposing hosts: Helen and the wealth she brought to be the prize; and, thus, the long war to reach its termination. The Greeks accept the proposal, and a truce is agreed on that sacrifices may be made on either side for victory, and the duel proceed.

=204. Helen surveys the Grecian Host.= Meantime, Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, summons Helen to view the impending duel. At her loom in the Trojan palace the ill-starred daughter of Leda is sitting, weaving in a golden web her own sad story. At memory of her former husband's love, her home, her parents, the princess drops a tear; then, softly sighing, turns her footsteps to the Scæan gate. No word is said of her matchless beauty, but what it was Homer shows us by its effect. For as she approaches the tower where aged Priam and his gray-haired chieftains sit, these cry,--

"No wonder such celestial charms For nine long years have set the world in arms; What winning graces! what majestic mien! She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen. Yet hence, oh Heaven! convey that fatal face, And from destruction save the Trojan race."[286]

--Words reëchoed by our English Marlowe, two thousand years later:

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.-- Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again! Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena.... Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars; Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appeared to hapless Semele;... And none but thou shalt be my paramour![287]

Priam, receiving his daughter-in-law tenderly, inquires of her the names of one and another of the Greeks moving on the plain below.--

"Who, that Around whose brow such martial graces shine, So tall, so awful, and almost divine?"[2]

"The son of Atreus," answers she, shamefacedly. "Agamemnon, king of kings, my brother once, before my days of shame."

"What's he whose arms lie scattered on the plain? Broad is his breast, his shoulders larger spread, Though great Atrides overtops his head. Nor yet appear his care and conduct small; From rank to rank he moves and orders all."[2]

"That is Ulysses," replies Helen, "of the barren isle of Ithaca; but his fame for wisdom fills the earth."

Old Antenor, seated by Priam's side, thereupon recalls the modesty and the restrained but moving eloquence of the wondrous son of Laërtes.

The king then asked, as yet the camp he viewed, "What chief is that, with giant strength endued; Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swelling chest, And lofty stature, far exceed the rest?"[288]

"That is Ajax the great," responds the beauteous queen, "himself a host, bulwark of the Achæans." And she points out Idomeneus, also, the godlike king of Crete; then scans the array for her own dear brothers Castor and Pollux;--in vain, for them the life-giving earth held fast there in Lacedæmon, their native land.

=205. Menelaüs defeats Paris.= Now from both sides sacrifices have been made to Jove, avenger of oaths, with prayer for victory and vow of fidelity to the contract made. But Jove vouchsafes not yet fulfillment. The lists are measured out by Hector and Ulysses. The duel is on. Paris throws his spear: it strikes, but fails to penetrate the shield of Menelaüs. Menelaüs then breaks his blade on the helmet of the Trojan, seizes him by the horsehair crest, and drags him toward the Grecian lines. But Aphrodite touches the chin strap of Paris' headpiece so that it breaks and leaves the futile helmet in the victor's hand. Then, wrapping her favorite in a mist, the goddess bears him from the pursuit of the furious Menelaüs, and, laying him safe in Helen's chamber, summons his mistress, who first upbraids, then soothes him with her love.

The Greeks claim the victory, and with justice. The Trojans, then and there, would have yielded Helen and her wealth, and the fate of Troy might have been averted, had it not been for the machinations of the goddesses, Juno and Minerva. These could not bear that the hated city should thus escape. Prompted by the insidious urging of Minerva, one of the Trojans, Pandarus, breaks the truce; he shoots his arrow full at the heart of the unsuspecting Menelaüs. Minerva, of course, deflects the fatal shaft. But the treachery has accomplished its purpose; the war is reopened with fresh bitterness.

=206. The Two Days' Battle.= The battle which then begins lasts for two whole days. In its progress we witness a series of single combats. Pandarus the archer wounds Diomede, the son of Tydeus. He in turn, raging over the plain, fells Pandarus with his spear and crushes Æneas, Priam's valiant kinsman, to his knees with a great stone. Venus shrouds her fallen son in her shining veil and will rescue him. But Diomedes, clear of vision, spies her out and drives his pointed spear against her hand, grazing the palm of it. Out leaps the ichor, life-stream of the blessed gods, and the goddess shrieking drops her burden and flees from the jeering Diomede;--nay, mounts even to Olympus where, sobbing in the arms of her mother, Dione, she finds solace of her pain, and straightway turns to hopes of vengeance. Æneas, meantime, is wrapped by Ph[oe]bus Apollo in a dusky cloud and borne aloft to that god's temple, where Diana and Latona heal him.

To Diomede still breathing slaughter, the god of war himself, Mars, now appears in form of a Thracian captain, opposing him and stirring Hector and the swiftly recovered Æneas and the godlike Sarpedon against the Greeks. And the Greeks give back, but the keen eye of Diomede pierces the disguise of the War-god, and he shouts a warning to his comrades. Then Minerva descends to where Diomede, the son of Tydeus, is resting beside his chariot, and she spurs him afresh to the fray. "Thou joy of my heart," says she, "fear thou neither Mars nor any other of the immortals, for I shall help thee mightily." So she takes the place of his charioteer, and together they drive on the War-god. And that one cannot come at the son of Tydeus to strike him down, because of the ward that Minerva vouchsafes.

But, for his part, Diomede strikes his spear against the nethermost belly of Mars and wounds him, rending his fair skin; and he plucks forth the spear again. Then brazen Mars bellows loud as nine or ten thousand soldiers all at once; and, like Venus before him, betakes himself to Olympus. There, complaining to Jove, he receives stern reprimand for his intolerant and hateful spirit, stirring men ever to strife,--"like thine own mother Juno, after whom, not after me, thou takest." Thus, the father of the gods; and he makes an end, and bids Pæan, the family physician, heal him.

Diomedes, still bearing down on the Trojans, is about to fight with a young warrior when, struck by his appearance, he inquires his name. It is Glaucus, and the youth is grandson of the noble Bellerophon. Then Diomede of the loud war cry is glad and strikes his spear into the earth and declines to fight. "For lo," says he, "our grandfathers were guest-friends, and guest-friends are we. Why slay each other? There are multitudes of Trojans for me to slay, and for thee Achæans in multitude, if thou canst. Let us twain rather exchange arms as a testimony of our good faith." And this they do; and Diomede gets the best of the bargain, his armor being worth but nine oxen, and young Glaucus' five score.

=207. Hector and Andromache.= The Trojans being still pushed nearer to their own walls, Hector, bravest of Priam's sons, returns to the city to urge the women to prayer, and to carry the loitering Paris back with him to the defense. Here he meets his brave mother Hecuba, and then the fair Helen; but most to our purpose and his, his wife, the white-armed Andromache, the noblest of the women of the Iliad, for whom he has searched in vain.

From the relief by Thorwaldsen]

So she met him now; and with her went the handmaid bearing in her bosom the tender boy, the little child, Hector's loved son, like unto a beautiful star. Him Hector called Scamandrius, but all the folk Astyanax, "defender of the city." So now he smiled and gazed at his boy silently, and Andromache stood by his side weeping, and clasped her hand in his, and spake and called on his name. "Dear my lord, this thy hardihood will undo thee, neither hast thou any pity for thine infant boy, nor for hapless me that soon shall be thy widow; for soon will the Achæans all set on thee and slay thee. But it were better for me to go down to the grave if I lose thee; for nevermore will any comfort be mine, when once thou, even thou, hast met thy fate,--but only sorrow. Nay, Hector, thou art to me father and lady mother, yea and brother, even as thou art my goodly husband.

Then great Hector of the glancing helm answered her: "Surely I take thought for all these things, my wife; but I have very sore shame of the Trojans and Trojan dames with trailing robes, if like a coward I shrink away from battle. Moreover mine own soul forbiddeth me, seeing I have learnt ever to be valiant and fight in the forefront of the Trojans, winning my father's great glory and mine own. Yea of a surety, I know this in heart and soul; the day shall come for holy Ilios to be laid low, and Priam and the folk of Priam of the good ashen spear. "[289]

So spoke the great-hearted hero, and stretched his arms out to take his little boy. But

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast, Scared at the dazzling helm, and nodding crest. With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled, And Hector hasted to relieve his child,-- The glittering terrors from his brows unbound And placed the beaming helmet on the ground. Then kissed the child, and, lifting high in air, Thus to the gods, preferred a father's prayer: "O thou! whose glory fills the ethereal throne, And all ye deathless powers! protect my son! Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown, To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown, Against his country's foes the war to wage. And rise the Hector of the future age! So when, triumphant from successive toils Of heroes slain, he bears the reeking spoils, Whole hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim And say, 'This chief transcends his father's fame': While, pleased, amidst the general shouts of Troy, His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy."[290]

So prayed he, the glorious Hector, foreboding of the future, but little thinking that, when he himself was slain and the city sacked, his starlike son should be cast headlong to death from Troy's high towers, and his dear wife led into captivity as he had dreaded, indeed, and by none other than Neoptolemus, the son of his mortal foe, Achilles. But now Hector laid the boy in the arms of his wife, and she, smiling tearfully, gathered him to her fragrant bosom; and her husband pitied her, and caressed her with his hand, and bade her farewell, saying:

"Andromache! my soul's far better part, Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart? No hostile hand can antedate my doom, Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb. Fixed is the term to all the race of earth; And such the hard condition of our birth, No force can then resist, no flight can save; All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. No more--but hasten to thy tasks at home, There guide the spindle, and direct the loom; Me glory summons to the martial scene, The field of combat is the sphere for men. Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, The first in danger, as the first in fame."[291]

He took up his horsehair crested helmet; and she departed to her home, oft looking back and letting fall big tears, thinking that he would no more come back from battle.

=208. Neptune aids the Discouraged Greeks.= But the end was not to be so soon. Hector, returning to the field, challenged the bravest of the Greeks to combat. Nine accepted the challenge; but the lot fell on Ajax, the son of Telamon. The duel lasted till night, with deeds of valor on both sides; and the heroes parted, each testifying to his foeman's worth. The next day a truce was declared for the burning of the dead; but, soon after, the conflict was renewed, and before the might of Hector and his troops the Greeks were driven back to their trenches.

Then Agamemnon, king of men, called another council of his wisest and bravest chiefs and, grievously discouraged, proposed, this time in earnest, that they reëmbark and sail home to Greece.[292] In the debate that ensued Nestor advised that an embassy should be sent to Achilles persuading him to return to the field; and that Agamemnon should yield the maiden, the cause of dispute, with ample gifts to atone for the wrong he had done. Agamemnon assented; and Ulysses, Ajax, and Ph[oe]nix were sent to carry to Achilles the penitent message. They performed that duty, but Achilles was deaf to their entreaties. He positively refused to return to the attack and persisted in his determination to embark for Greece without delay.

(Left section)]

Meanwhile the Greeks, having constructed a rampart around their ships, were now, instead of besieging Troy, in a manner themselves besieged, within their rampart. [293] Then the Trojans, favored by Jove, succeeded in forcing a passage through the Grecian rampart and were about to set fire to the ships. [294] Appearing in the form of Calchas the prophet, he raised the ardor of the warriors to such a pitch that they forced the Trojans to give way. Here Ajax, son of Telamon, performed prodigies of valor. [295] The Greek shouted defiance, to which Hector replied, and hurled his lance at the huge warrior. It was well aimed and struck Ajax where the belts that bore his sword and shield crossed each other on the breast, but the double guard prevented its penetrating, and it fell harmless. Then Ajax, seizing a huge stone, one of those that served to prop the ships, hurled it at Hector. It struck him near the neck and stretched him on the plain.

His followers instantly seized him and bore him off stunned and wounded.

(Right Section)]

=209. Jupiter inspirits the Trojans.= While Neptune was thus aiding the Greeks and driving back the Trojans, Jupiter saw nothing of what was going on, for his attention had been drawn from the field by the wiles of Juno.[296] That goddess had arrayed herself in all her charms, and to crown all had borrowed of Venus her girdle, the Cestus, which enhanced the wearer's charms to such a degree that they were irresistible. So prepared, Juno had joined her husband, who sat on Olympus watching the battle. When he beheld her, the fondness of his early love revived and, forgetting the contending armies and all other affairs of state, he gave himself up to her and let the battle go as it would.

But this oblivion did not continue long. When, on turning his eyes downward, the cloud-compeller beheld Hector stretched, almost lifeless, on the plain, he angrily dismissed Juno, commanding her to send Iris and Apollo to him.[297] The former bore a peremptory message to Neptune, ordering him to quit the contest. Apollo was dispatched to heal Hector's bruises and to inspirit his heart. These orders were obeyed with such speed that while the battle was still raging, Hector returned to the field and Neptune betook himself to his own dominions.

=210. = An arrow from the bow of Paris had wounded Machaon, son of Æsculapius, a brave warrior, who, having inherited his father's art, was of great value to the Greeks as their surgeon. Nestor, taking Machaon in his chariot, conveyed him from the field. As they passed the ships of Achilles, that hero, looking over the battle, saw the chariot of Nestor, and recognized the old chief, but could not discern who the wounded warrior was. Calling Patroclus, his companion and dearest friend, he sent him to Nestor's tent to inquire. Patroclus, performing the behest, saw Machaon wounded and, having told the cause of his coming, would have hastened away, but Nestor detained him to tell him the extent of the Grecian calamities.

He reminded him also how, at the time of the departure for Troy, Achilles and himself had been charged by their respective sires: the one to aspire to the highest pitch of glory; the other, as the elder, to keep watch over his friend and to guide his inexperience. "Now," said Nestor, "is the time for such guidance. If the gods so please, thou mayest win Achilles back to the common cause; but if not, let him at least send his soldiers to the field, and come thou, Patroclus, clad in his armor. "[298]

=211. [299] He told the prince the sad condition of affairs at the camp of their late associates; Diomede, Ulysses, Agamemnon, Machaon, all wounded, the rampart broken down, the enemy among the ships preparing to burn them and thus to cut off all means of return to Greece. While they spoke, the flames burst forth from one of the ships. Achilles, at the sight, relented so far as to intrust Patroclus with the Myrmidons for the onslaught and to lend him his armor that he might thereby strike the more terror into the minds of the Trojans. Without delay the soldiers were marshaled, Patroclus put on the radiant armor, mounted the chariot of Achilles, and led forth the men ardent for battle. But before his friend went, Achilles strictly charged him to be content with repelling the foe. "Seek not," said he, "to press the Trojans without me, lest thou add still more to the disgrace already mine."

Then exhorting the troops to do their best, he dismissed them full of ardor to the fight.

Patroclus and his Myrmidons at once plunged into the contest where it raged hottest. At the sight of them the joyful Grecians shouted, and the ships reëchoed the acclaim; but the Trojans, beholding the well-known armor, struck with terror, looked everywhere for refuge. First those who had got possession of the ship and set it on fire allowed the Grecians to retake it and extinguish the flames. Then the rest fled in dismay. Ajax, Menelaüs, and the two sons of Nestor performed prodigies of valor. Hector was forced to turn his horses' heads and retire from the enclosure, leaving his men encumbered in the fosse to escape as they could. Patroclus drove all before him, slaying many; nor did one dare to make a stand against him.

=212. = At last the grandson of Bellerophon, Sarpedon, son of Jove and Laodamia, ventured to oppose the Greek warrior. The Olympian looked down on his son and would have snatched him from the fate impending, but Juno hinted that if he did so, the other inhabitants of heaven might be induced to interpose in like manner whenever any of their offspring were endangered,--an argument to which Jove yielded. Sarpedon threw his spear, but missed Patroclus; the spear of the Greek, on the other hand, pierced Sarpedon's breast, and he fell, calling to his friends to save his body from the foe. Then a furious contest arose for the corpse. The Greeks succeeded in stripping Sarpedon of his armor, but Jove would not suffer the body to be dishonored. By his command Apollo snatched it from the midst of the combatants and committed it to the care of the twin brothers Death and Sleep.

By them it was transported to Lycia, Sarpedon's native land, and there received due funeral rites.

Thus far Patroclus had succeeded to the utmost in repelling the foe and relieving his countrymen, but now came a change of fortune. Hector, borne in his chariot, confronted him. Patroclus threw a vast stone at the Trojan, which missed its aim, but smote Cebriones, the charioteer, and felled him from the car. Hector leaped from the chariot to rescue his friend, and Patroclus also descended to complete his victory. Thus the two heroes met face to face. At this decisive moment the poet, as if reluctant to give Hector the glory, records that Ph[oe]bus Apollo, taking part against Patroclus, struck the helmet from his head and the lance from his hand. At the same moment an obscure Trojan wounded him in the back, and Hector pressing forward pierced him with his spear. He fell mortally wounded.

Then arose a tremendous conflict for the body of Patroclus; but his armor was at once taken possession of by Hector, who, retiring a short distance, divested himself of his own mail, put on that of Achilles, then returned to the fight.[300] Ajax and Menelaüs defended the body, and Hector and his bravest warriors struggled to capture it. The battle still raged with equal fortune, when Jove enveloped the whole face of heaven in a cloud. The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and Ajax, looking round for some one whom he might dispatch to Achilles to tell him of the death of his friend and of the imminent danger of his remains falling into the hands of the enemy, could see no suitable messenger. In desperation he exclaimed:

"Father of heaven and earth! deliver thou Achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies; Give day; and, since thy sovereign will is such, Destruction with it; but, oh, give us day!"[301]

Jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds. Ajax sent Antilochus to Achilles with the intelligence of Patroclus' death and of the conflict raging for his remains; and the Greeks at last succeeded in bearing off the body to the ships, closely pursued by Hector and Æneas and the rest of the Trojans.

=213. [302] His groans reached the ears of Thetis, far down in the deeps of ocean where she abode, and she hastened to inquire the cause. She found him overwhelmed with self-reproach that he had suffered his friend to fall a victim to his resentment. His only consolation was the hope of revenge. He would fly instantly in search of Hector. But his mother reminded him that he was now without armor and promised, if he would but wait till the morrow, to procure for him a suit of armor from Vulcan more than equal to that he had lost. He consented, and Thetis immediately repaired to Vulcan's palace. She found him busy at his forge, making tripods for his own use, so artfully constructed that they moved forward of their own accord when wanted, and retired again when dismissed. On hearing the request of Thetis, Vulcan immediately laid aside his work and hastened to comply with her wishes.

He fabricated a splendid suit of armor for Achilles; first a shield adorned with elaborate devices, of which a noble description is given by Homer, then a helmet crested with gold, then a corselet and greaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly adapted to the hero's form, and of consummate workmanship. The suit was made in one night, and Thetis, receiving it, descended to earth and laid it at Achilles' feet at the dawn of day.

=214. The Reconciliation of Agamemnon and Achilles.= The first glow of pleasure that Achilles had felt since the death of Patroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor.[303] And now arrayed in it, he went forth to the camp, calling the chiefs to council. When the leaders were assembled, Achilles addressed them. Renouncing his displeasure against Agamemnon and bitterly lamenting the miseries that had resulted from it, he called on them to proceed at once to the field. Agamemnon made a suitable reply, laying the blame on Ate, the goddess of infatuation; and thereupon complete reconcilement took place between the heroes.

Then Achilles went forth to battle, heartened by the inspiration of Minerva and filled with a rage and thirst for vengeance that made him irresistible. As he mounted his chariot, one of his immortal coursers was, strange to say, endowed suddenly with speech from on high and, breaking into prophecy, warned the hero of his approaching doom. But, nothing daunted, Achilles pressed on the foe. [304] Hector, cautioned by Apollo, kept aloof; but the god, assuming the form of one of Priam's sons, Lycaon, urged Æneas to encounter the terrible warrior. Æneas, though he felt himself unequal, did not decline the combat. He hurled his spear with all his force against the shield, the work of Vulcan. The spear pierced two plates of the shield, but was stopped in the third. Achilles threw his spear with better success. It pierced through the shield of Æneas, but glanced near his shoulder and made no wound.

Then Æneas, seizing a stone, such as two men of modern times could hardly lift, was about to throw it,--and Achilles, with sword drawn, was about to rush on him,--when Neptune, looking out on the contest, had pity on Æneas, who was sure to have the worst of it. The god, consequently, spread a cloud between the combatants and, lifting the Trojan from the ground, bore him over the heads of warriors and steeds to the rear of the battle. Achilles, when the mist cleared away, looked round in vain for his adversary, and acknowledging the prodigy, turned his arms against other champions. But none dared stand before him; and Priam from his city walls beheld the whole army in full flight toward the city. He gave command to open wide the gates to receive the fugitives, and to shut them as soon as the Trojans should have passed, lest the enemy should enter likewise.

But Achilles was so close in pursuit that that would have been impossible if Apollo had not, in the form of Agenor, Priam's son, first encountered the swift-footed hero, then turned in flight, and taken the way apart from the city. [305]

=215. = But when the rest had escaped into the town Hector stood without, determined to await the combat. His father called to him from the walls, begging him to retire nor tempt the encounter. His mother, Hecuba, also besought him, but all in vain. "How can I," said he to himself, "by whose command the people went to this day's contest where so many have fallen, seek refuge for myself from a single foe? Or shall I offer to yield up Helen and all her treasures and ample of our own beside? even that is too late. He would not hear me through, but slay me while I spoke." While he thus ruminated, Achilles approached, terrible as Mars, his armor flashing lightning as he moved. At that sight Hector's heart failed him and he fled. Achilles swiftly pursued. They ran, still keeping near the walls, till they had thrice encircled the city.

As often as Hector approached the walls Achilles intercepted him and forced him to keep out in a wider circle. But Apollo sustained Hector's strength and would not let him sink in weariness. Then Pallas, assuming the form of Deiphobus, Hector's bravest brother, appeared suddenly at his side. Hector saw him with delight, and thus strengthened, stopped his flight, and, turning to meet Achilles, threw his spear. It struck the shield of Achilles and bounded back. He turned to receive another from the hand of Deiphobus, but Deiphobus was gone. it is plain this is my hour to die! I thought Deiphobus at hand, but Pallas deceived me, and he is still in Troy. But I will not fall inglorious." So saying he drew his falchion from his side and rushed at once to combat. Achilles, secure behind his shield, waited the approach of Hector.

When he came within reach of his spear, Achilles, choosing with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part, and Hector fell, death-wounded. Feebly he said, "Spare my body! Let my parents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from the sons and daughters of Troy." To which Achilles replied, "Dog, name not ransom nor pity to me, on whom you have brought such dire distress. trust me, nought shall save thy carcass from the dogs. "[306]

=216. = So saying, the son of Peleus stripped the body of its armor, and, fastening cords to the feet, tied them behind his chariot, leaving the body to trail along the ground. Then mounting the chariot he lashed the steeds and so dragged the body to and fro before the city. No words can tell the grief of Priam and Hecuba at this sight. His people could scarce restrain the aged king from rushing forth. He threw himself in the dust and besought them each by name to let him pass. Hecuba's distress was not less violent. The citizens stood round them weeping. The sound of the mourning reached the ears of Andromache, the wife of Hector, as she sat among her maidens at work; and anticipating evil she went forth to the wall. When she saw the horror there presented, she would have thrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted and fell into the arms of her maidens.

Recovering, she bewailed her fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a captive, and her son, the youthful Astyanax, dependent for his bread on the charity of strangers.

[307] A pile was erected, and the body burned with due solemnity. Then ensued games of strength and skill, chariot races, wrestling, boxing, and archery. Later, the chiefs sat down to the funeral banquet, and finally retired to rest. But Achilles partook neither of the feast nor of sleep. The recollection of his lost friend kept him awake,--the memory of their companionship in toil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep. Before the earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot his swift steeds, he fastened Hector's body to be dragged behind. Twice he dragged him round the tomb of Patroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust. [308]

While Achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing Hector, Jupiter in pity summoned Thetis to his presence. Bidding her prevail on Achilles to restore the body of Hector to the Trojans, he sent Iris to encourage Priam to beg of Achilles the body of his son. Iris delivered her message, and Priam prepared to obey. He opened his treasuries and took out rich garments and cloths, with ten talents in gold and two splendid tripods and a golden cup of matchless workmanship. Then he called to his sons and bade them draw forth his litter and place in it the various articles designed for a ransom to Achilles. When all was ready, the old king with a single companion as aged as himself, the herald Idæus, drove forth from the gates, parting there with Hecuba his queen, and all his friends, who lamented him as going to certain death.

=217. =[309] But Jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable king, sent Mercury to be his guide and protector. Assuming the form of a young warrior, Mercury presented himself to the aged couple; and, when at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or yield, approaching he grasped Priam's hand and offered to be their guide to Achilles' tent. Priam gladly accepted his service, and Mercury, mounting the carriage, assumed the reins and conveyed them to the camp. Then having cast the guards into a heavy sleep, he introduced Priam into the tent where Achilles sat, attended by two of his warriors. The aged king threw himself at the feet of Achilles and kissed those terrible hands which had destroyed so many of his sons. "Think, O Achilles," he said, "of thine own father, full of days like me, and trembling on the gloomy verge of life.

Even now, mayhap, some neighbor chief oppresses him and there is none at hand to succor him in his distress. Yet, knowing that Achilles lives, he doubtless still rejoices, hoping that one day he shall see thy face again. But me no comfort cheers, whose bravest sons, so late the flower of Ilium, all have fallen. Yet one I had, one more than all the rest the strength of my age, whom fighting for his country thou hast slain. His body I come to redeem, bringing inestimable ransom with me. for his sake show compassion to me!" These words moved Achilles, and he wept, remembering by turns his absent father and his lost friend. Moved with pity of Priam's silver locks and beard, he raised him from the earth and spake: "Priam, I know that thou hast reached this place conducted by some god, for without aid divine no mortal even in his prime of youth had dared the attempt. I grant thy request, for I am moved thereto by the manifest will of Jove."

So saying he arose, went forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge the litter, leaving two mantles and a robe for the covering of the body. This they placed on the litter and spread the garments over it, that not unveiled it should be borne back to Troy. Then Achilles dismissed the old king, having first pledged himself to a truce of twelve days for the funeral solemnities.

As the litter approached the city and was descried from the walls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of their hero. Foremost of all, the mother and the wife of Hector came, and at the sight of the lifeless body renewed their lamentations. The people wept with them, and to the going down of the sun there was no pause or abatement of their grief.

The next day, preparations were made for the funeral solemnities. For nine days the people brought wood and built the pile; and on the tenth they placed the body on the summit and applied the torch, while all Troy, thronging forth, encompassed the pyre. When it had completely burned, they quenched the cinders with wine, and, collecting the bones, placed them in a golden urn, which they buried in the earth. Over the spot they reared a pile of stones.

Such honors Ilium to her hero paid, And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade.[310]

FOOTNOTES:

[280] From Tennyson's Dream of Fair Women.

[281] From Tennyson's [OE]none.

[282] Euripides, Iphigenia at Aulis, Iphigenia among the Tauri.

[283] From Tennyson's Dream of Fair Women.

[284] Gladstone's Translations from the Iliad.

[285] Iliad, 2 (Pope's translation).

[286] Iliad, 3 (Pope's translation).

[287] Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus.

[288] Iliad, 3 (Pope's translation).

[289] Iliad, 6, 390 et seq. (Lang, Leaf, and Myers' translation).

[290] Iliad, 6, 470-490 (Pope's translation).

[291] Iliad, 6 (Pope's translation).

[292] Iliad, 9.

[293] Iliad, 11.

[294] Iliad, 13.

[295] Iliad, 14, 400-440.

[296] Iliad, 14, 150-350.

[297] Iliad, 15.

[298] Iliad, 11.

[299] Iliad, 16.

[300] Iliad, 17.

[301] Cowper's translation. The lines are often quoted.

[302] Iliad, 18.

[303] Iliad, 19.

[304] Iliad, 20.

[305] Iliad, 21.

[306] Iliad, 22, 350.

[307] Iliad, 23.

[308] Iliad, 24, 15.

[309] Iliad, 24, 330-804.

[310] Iliad, 24, 804 (Pope's translation).

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=218. The Fall of Troy.= The story of the Iliad ends with the death of Hector, and it is from the Odyssey and later poems that we learn the fate of the other heroes. After the death of Hector, Troy did not immediately fall, but receiving aid from new allies, still continued its resistance. One of these allies was Memnon, the Ethiopian prince, whose story has been already told.[311] Another was Penthesilea, queen of the Amazons, who came with a band of female warriors. All the authorities attest the valor of these women and the fearful effect of their war cry. Penthesilea, having slain many of the bravest Greeks, was at last slain by Achilles. But when the hero bent over his fallen foe and contemplated her beauty, youth, and valor, he bitterly regretted his victory. Thersites, the insolent brawler and demagogue, attempting to ridicule his grief, was in consequence slain by the hero.[312]

=219. The Death of Achilles.= But Achilles himself was not destined to a long life. Having by chance seen Polyxena, daughter of King Priam,--perhaps on occasion of the truce which was allowed the Trojans for the burial of Hector,--he was captivated with her charms; and to win her in marriage, it is said (but not by Homer) that he agreed to influence the Greeks to make peace with Troy. While the hero was in the temple of Apollo negotiating the marriage, Paris discharged at him a poisoned arrow,[313] which, guided by Apollo, fatally wounded him in the heel. This was his only vulnerable spot; for Thetis, having dipped him when an infant in the river Styx, had rendered every part of him invulnerable except that by which she held him.[314]

=220. Contest for the Arms of Achilles.= The body of Achilles so treacherously slain was rescued by Ajax and Ulysses. Thetis directed the Greeks to bestow her son's armor on that hero who of all survivors should be judged most deserving of it. Ajax and Ulysses were the only claimants. A select number of the other chiefs were appointed to award the prize. By the will of Minerva it was awarded to Ulysses,--wisdom being thus rated above valor. Ajax, enraged, set forth from his tent to wreak vengeance on the Atridæ and Ulysses. But the goddess robbed him of reason and turned his hand against the flocks and herds of the Argives, which he slaughtered or led captive to his tent, counting them the rivals who had wronged him. Then the cruel goddess restored to him his wits. And he, fixing his sword in the ground, prepared to take his own life:

"Come and look on me, O Death, O Death,--and yet in yonder world I shall dwell with thee, speak enough with thee; And thee I call, thou light of golden day, Thou Sun, who drivest on thy glorious car, Thee, for this last time,--never more again! O Light, O sacred land that was my home; O Salamis, where stands my father's hearth, Thou glorious Athens, with thy kindred race; Ye streams and rivers here, and Troïa's plains, To you that fed my life I bid farewell; This last, last word does Ajax speak to you; All else, I speak in Hades to the dead."[3]

Then, falling on his sword, he died. So, in the words of his magnanimous foe, Ulysses, passed to the god that ruleth in gloom

The best and bravest of the Argive host, Of all that came to Troïa, saving one, Achilles' self.[315]

On the spot where his blood sank into the earth a hyacinth sprang up, bearing on its leaves the first two letters of his name, Ai, the Greek interjection of woe.[316]

It was now discovered that Troy could not be taken but by the aid of the arrows of Hercules. They were in possession of Philoctetes, the friend who had been with Hercules at the last and had lighted his funeral pyre. Philoctetes[317] had joined the Grecian expedition against Troy; but he accidentally wounded his foot with one of the poisoned arrows, and the smell from the wound proved so offensive that his companions carried him to the isle of Lemnos and left him there. Diomede and Ulysses, or Ulysses and Neoptolemus (son of Achilles), were now sent to induce him to rejoin the army. They succeeded. Philoctetes was cured of his wound by Machaon, and Paris was the first victim of the fatal arrows.

=221. Paris and [OE]none.= In his distress Paris bethought him of one whom in his prosperity he had forgotten. This was the nymph [OE]none, whom he had married when a youth and had abandoned for the fatal beauty of Helen. [OE]none, remembering the wrongs she had suffered, refused to heal the wound; and Paris went back to Troy and died. [OE]none quickly repented and hastened after him with remedies, but came too late, and in her grief hanged herself.

=222. The Palladium.= There was in Troy a celebrated statue of Minerva called the Palladium. It was said to have fallen from heaven, and the belief was that the city could not be taken so long as this statue remained within it. Ulysses and Diomede entered the city in disguise and succeeded in obtaining the Palladium, which they carried off to the Grecian camp.

=223. = But Troy still held out. [318] They pretended to be making preparations to abandon the siege; and a number of the ships were withdrawn and concealed behind a neighboring island. They then constructed an immense wooden horse, which they gave out was intended as a propitiatory offering to Minerva; but it was, in fact, filled with armed men. The rest of the Greeks then betook themselves to their ships and sailed away, as if for a final departure. The Trojans, seeing the encampment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded that the enemy had abandoned the siege. The gates of the city were thrown open, and the whole population issued forth, rejoicing at the long-prohibited liberty of passing freely over the scene of the late encampment. The great horse was the chief object of curiosity. Some recommended that it be taken into the city as a trophy; others felt afraid of it.

While they hesitated, Laocoön, the priest of Neptune, exclaimed, "What madness, citizens, is this! Have you not learned enough of Grecian fraud to be on your guard against it? "[319] So saying, he threw his lance at the horse's side. It struck, and a hollow sound reverberated like a groan. Then perhaps the people might have taken his advice and destroyed the fatal horse with its contents, but just at that moment a group of people appeared dragging forward one who seemed a prisoner and a Greek. Stupefied with terror, the captive was brought before the chiefs. He informed them that he was a Greek, Sinon by name; and that in consequence of the malice of Ulysses, he had been left behind by his countrymen at their departure.

With regard to the wooden horse, he told them that it was a propitiatory offering to Minerva, and had been made so huge for the express purpose of preventing its being carried within the city; for Calchas the prophet had told them that if the Trojans took possession of it, they would assuredly triumph over the Greeks.

=224. Laocoön and the Serpents.= This language turned the tide of the people's feelings, and they began to think how they might best secure the monstrous horse and the favorable auguries connected with it, when suddenly a prodigy occurred which left no room for doubt. There appeared advancing over the sea two immense serpents. They came on the land and the crowd fled in all directions. The serpents advanced directly to the spot where Laocoön stood with his two sons. They first attacked the children, winding round their bodies and breathing pestilential breath in their faces. The father, attempting to rescue them, was next seized and involved in the serpent's coils.... Vain The struggle; vain, against the coiling strain And gripe, and deepening of the dragon's grasp, The old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain Rivets the living links,--the enormous asp Enforces pang on pang, and stifles gasp on gasp.[320]

He struggled to tear them away, but they overpowered all his efforts and strangled him and the children in their poisonous folds. The event was regarded as a clear indication of the displeasure of the gods at Laocoön's irreverent treatment of the wooden horse, which they no longer hesitated to regard as a sacred object and prepared to introduce with due solemnity into the city. They did so with songs and triumphal acclamations, and the day closed with festivity. In the night the armed men who were inclosed in the body of the horse, being let out by the traitor Sinon, opened the gates of the city to their friends who had returned under cover of the night. The city was set on fire; the people, overcome with feasting and sleep, were put to the sword, and Troy completely subdued.

(Left half)]

=225. The Death of Priam.= Priam lived to see the downfall of his kingdom and was slain at last on the fatal night when the Greeks took the city. He had armed himself and was about to mingle with the combatants,[321] but was prevailed on by Hecuba to take refuge with his daughters and herself as a suppliant at the altar of Jupiter. While there, his youngest son, Polites, pursued by Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles, rushed in wounded and expired at the feet of his father; whereupon Priam, overcome with indignation, hurled his spear with feeble hand against Pyrrhus and was forthwith slain by him.

(Right half)]

=226. The Survivors.=[322] Queen Hecuba and her daughter Cassandra were carried captives to Greece. Cassandra had been loved by Apollo, who gave her the gift of prophecy; but afterwards offended with her, he had rendered the gift unavailing by ordaining that her predictions should never be believed. Polyxena, another daughter, who had been loved by Achilles, was demanded by the ghost of that warrior and was sacrificed by the Greeks on his tomb. Of the fate of the white-armed Andromache we have already spoken. She was carried off as the wife of Neoptolemus, but he was faithful to her for only a short time. After he had cast her aside she married Helenus, a brother of Hector, and still later returned to Asia Minor.

=227. [323] After the death of Paris, she aided the Greeks secretly on several occasions: in particular when Ulysses and Diomede entered the city in disguise to carry off the Palladium. She then saw and recognized Ulysses, but kept the secret and even assisted them in obtaining the image. Thus she became reconciled to Menelaüs, and they were among the first to leave the shores of Troy for their native land. But having incurred the displeasure of the gods, they were driven by storms from shore to shore of the Mediterranean, visiting Cyprus, Ph[oe]nicia, and Egypt. [324]

Milton also alludes to a famous recipe for an invigorating draft, called Nepenthe, which the Egyptian queen gave to Helen:

Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena, Is of such power to stir up joy as this, To life so friendly or so cool to thirst.[325]

At last, arriving in safety at Sparta, Menelaüs and Helen resumed their royal dignity, and lived and reigned in splendor; and when Telemachus, the son of Ulysses, in search of his father, arrived at Sparta, he found them celebrating the marriage of their daughter Hermione to Neoptolemus, son of Achilles.

Agamemnon[326] was not so fortunate in the issue. During his absence his wife Clytemnestra had been false to him; and when his return was expected, she with her paramour, Ægisthus, son of Thyestes, laid a plan for his destruction. Cassandra warned the king, but as usual her prophecy was not regarded. While Agamemnon was bathing previous to the banquet given to celebrate his return, the conspirators murdered him.

=228. = It was the intention of the conspirators to slay his son Orestes also, a lad not yet old enough to be an object of apprehension, but from whom, if he should be suffered to grow up, there might be danger. Electra, the sister of Orestes, saved her brother's life by sending him secretly to his uncle Strophius, king of Phocis. In the palace of Strophius, Orestes grew up with the king's son Pylades, and formed with him a friendship which has become proverbial. Electra frequently reminded her brother by messengers of the duty of avenging his father's death; he, too, when he reached maturity, consulted the oracle of Delphi, which confirmed him in the design. He therefore repaired in disguise to Argos, pretending to be a messenger from Strophius, who would announce the death of Orestes. He brought with him what purported to be the ashes of the deceased in a funeral urn.

After visiting his father's tomb and sacrificing on it, according to the rites of the ancients, he met by the way his sister Electra. Mistaking her for one of the domestics, and desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till the hour of vengeance should arrive, he produced the urn. At once his sister, believing Orestes to be really dead, took the urn from him, and, embracing it, poured forth her grief in language full of tenderness and despair. [327]

=229. =[328] This revolting act, the slaughter of a mother by her son, though extenuated by the guilt of the victim and the express command of the gods, did not fail to awaken in the breasts of the ancients the same abhorrence that it does in ours. The Eumenides seized on Orestes and drove him frantic from land to land. In these wanderings Pylades accompanied him and watched over him. At length in answer to a second appeal to the oracle, Orestes was directed to go to the temple of the Tauri in Scythia and to bring thence a statue of Diana which was believed to have fallen from heaven. Accordingly the friends went to the Tauric Chersonese. Since there the barbarous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess all strangers who fell into their hands, the two friends were seized and carried bound to the temple to be made victims.

But the priestess of Diana of the Tauri was no other than Iphigenia, the sister of Orestes, who had been snatched away by Diana at the moment when she was about to be sacrificed. [329]

=230. His Purification.= But Orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance of the Erinyes. Finally, he took refuge with Minerva at Athens. The goddess afforded him protection and appointed the court of Areopagus to decide his fate. The Erinyes brought their accusation, and Orestes pleaded the command of the Delphic oracle as his excuse. When the court voted and the voices were equally divided, Orestes was acquitted by the command of Minerva. He was then purified with plentiful blood of swine.

FOOTNOTES:

[311] § 128.

[312] Pausanias, 5, 11, § 2; and Sophocles, Philoctetes, 445.

[313] Virgil, Æneid, 6, 57.

[314] Statius, Achilleid, 1, 269.

[315] Sophocles, Ajax.

[316] See Commentary.

[317] Servius Honoratus, Commentary on Æneid (3, 402). According to Sophocles (Philoctetes), the wound was occasioned by the bite of a serpent that guarded the shrine of the nymph Chryse, on an islet of the same name near Lemnos.

[318] Virgil, Æneid, 2.

[319] Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.--Æneid. 2, 49.

[320] Byron, Childe Harold.

[321] Hecuba's exclamation, "Not such aid nor such defenders does the time require," has become proverbial.

Non tali auxilio nec defensoribus istis Tempus eget.--Æneid, 2, 521.

[322] Euripides,--Troades, Hecuba, Andromache.

[323] According to Euripides (Helen), and Stesichorus, it was a semblance of Helen that Paris won; the real Helen went to Egypt.

[324] Dyer, The Fleece.

[325] Milton, Comus.

[326] Æschylus, Agamemnon.

[327] Æschylus, Choëphori; Sophocles, Electra; Euripides,--Electra, Orestes.

[328] Æschylus, Eumenides.

[329] Euripides, Iphigenia among the Tauri.

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As one that for a weary space has lain Lulled by the song of Circe and her wine In gardens near the pale of Proserpine, Where that Ææan isle forgets the main, And only the low lutes of love complain, And only shadows of wan lovers pine,-- As such an one were glad to know the brine Salt on his lips, and the large air again, So, gladly, from the songs of modern speech Men turn and see the stars, and feel the free Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers; And, through the music of the languid hours, They hear like ocean on a western beach The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.[330]

=231. From Troy to Phæacia.= The Odyssey of Homer narrates the wanderings of Ulysses (=Odysseus=) in his return from Troy to his own kingdom, Ithaca.[331]

From Troy the vessels first made land at Ismarus, city of the Ciconians, where, in a skirmish with the inhabitants, Ulysses lost six men from each ship.[332]

=232. The Lotus-eaters.= Sailing thence they were overtaken by a storm which drove them for nine days till they reached the country of the Lotos-eaters. Here, after watering, Ulysses sent three of his men to discover who the inhabitants were. These men on coming among the Lotos-eaters were kindly entertained by them and were given some of their own food, the lotos plant, to eat. The effect of this food was such that those who partook of it lost all thought of home and wished to remain in that country. It was by main force that Ulysses dragged these men away, and he was even obliged to tie them under the benches of his ship.

Tennyson in The Lotos-eaters has fittingly expressed the dreamy, languid feeling which the lotus-food is said to have produced.... How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream, With half-shut eyes ever to seem Falling asleep in a half-dream! To dream and dream, like yonder amber light Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; To hear each other's whisper'd speech; Eating the Lotos, day by day, To watch the crisping ripples on the beach, And tender curving lines of creamy spray; To lend our hearts and spirits wholly To the influence of mild-minded melancholy; To muse and brood and live again in memory, With those old faces of our infancy Heap'd over with a mound of grass, Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass!

Dear is the memory of our wedded lives, And dear the last embraces of our wives And their warm tears: but all hath suffer'd change; For surely now our household hearths are cold: Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange: And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy.... But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly, How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly) With half-dropt eyelid still, Beneath a heaven dark and holy, To watch the long bright river drawing slowly His waters from the purple hill-- To hear the dewy echoes calling From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine-- To watch the emerald-color'd water falling Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine! Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine, Only to hear were sweet, stretch'd out beneath the pine.

The Lotos blooms below the barren peak: The Lotos blows by every winding creek: All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone: Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown. We have had enough of action, and of motion we, Roll'd to starboard, roll'd to larboard, when the surge was seething free, Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea. Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind, In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind....

=233. = They next arrived at the country of the Cyclopes. The Cyclopes[333] inhabited an island of which they were the only possessors. They dwelt in caves and fed on the wild productions of the island and on what their flocks yielded, for they were shepherds. Ulysses left the main body of his ships at anchor, and with one vessel went to the Cyclopes' island to explore for supplies. He landed with his companions, carrying with them a jar of wine for a present. Coming to a large cave they entered it, and, finding no one within, examined its contents. They found it stored with the riches of the flock, quantities of cheese, pails and bowls of milk, lambs and kids in their pens, all in good order. Presently arrived the master of the cave, Polyphemus, bearing an immense bundle of firewood, which he threw down before the cavern's mouth.

He then drove into the cave the sheep and goats to be milked, and, entering, rolled to the cave's mouth an enormous rock, that twenty oxen could not draw. Next he sat down and milked his ewes, preparing a part for cheese and setting the rest aside for his customary drink. Then turning round his one huge eye he discerned the strangers, and growled out at them, demanding who they were and where from. Ulysses replied most humbly, stating that they were Greeks from the great expedition that had lately won so much glory in the conquest of Troy, that they were now on their way home, and finished by imploring his hospitality in the name of the gods. Polyphemus deigned no answer, but reaching out his hand seized two of the men, whom he hurled against the side of the cave and dashed out their brains. He proceeded to devour them with great relish, and having made a hearty meal, stretched himself on the floor to sleep.

Ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plunge his sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it would only expose them all to certain destruction, as the rock with which the giant had closed up the door was far beyond their power to remove, and they would therefore be in hopeless imprisonment.

Next morning the giant seized two more of the men and dispatched them in the same manner as their companions, feasting on their flesh till no fragment was left. He then moved away the rock from the door, drove out his flocks, and went out, carefully replacing the barrier after him. When he was gone Ulysses planned how he might take vengeance for his murdered friends and effect his escape with his surviving companions. He made his men prepare a massive bar of wood cut by the Cyclops for a staff, which they found in the cave. They sharpened the end of the staff and seasoned it in the fire, and hid it under the straw on the cavern floor. Then four of the boldest were selected, with whom Ulysses joined himself as a fifth. The Cyclops came home at evening, rolled away the stone, and drove in his flock as usual.

After milking them and making his arrangements as before, he seized two more of Ulysses' companions, dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal on them as he had on the others. After he had supped, Ulysses approaching him handed him a bowl of wine, saying, "Cyclops, this is wine; taste and drink after thy meal of man's flesh." He took and drank it, and was hugely delighted with it, and called for more. Ulysses supplied him once and again, which pleased the giant so much that he promised him as a favor that he should be the last of the party devoured. He asked his name, to which Ulysses replied, "My name is Noman."

After his supper the giant sought his repose, and was soon sound asleep. Then Ulysses with his four select friends held the end of the stake in the fire till it was one burning coal, then poising it exactly above the giant's only eye, they plunged it deep into the socket, twirling it round as a carpenter does his auger. The howling monster with his outcry filled the cavern, and Ulysses with his aids nimbly got out of his way and concealed themselves in the cave. He, bellowing, called aloud on all the Cyclopes dwelling in the caves around him, far and near. They, on his cry, flocked round the den, and inquired what grievous hurt had caused him to sound such an alarm and break their slumbers. He replied, "O friends, I die, and Noman gives the blow." They answered, "If no man hurts thee, it is the stroke of Jove, and thou must bear it." So saying, they left him groaning.

Next morning the Cyclops rolled away the stone to let his flock out to pasture, but planted himself in the door of the cave to feel of all as they went out, that Ulysses and his men should not escape with them. But Ulysses had made his men harness the rams of the flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the floor of the cave. To the middle ram of the three one of the Greeks suspended himself, so protected by the exterior rams on either side. As they passed, the giant felt of the animals' backs and sides, but never thought of their bellies; so the men all passed safe, Ulysses himself being on the last one that passed. When they had got a few paces from the cavern, Ulysses and his friends released themselves from their rams and drove a good part of the flock down to the shore to their boat.

They put them aboard with all haste, then pushed off from the shore; and when at a safe distance Ulysses shouted out, "Cyclops, the gods have well requited thee for thy atrocious deeds. Know it is Ulysses to whom thou owest thy shameful loss of sight." The Cyclops, hearing this, seized a rock that projected from the side of the mountain, and rending it from its bed, he lifted it high in the air, then exerting all his force, hurled it in the direction of the voice. Down came the mass, just forward of the vessel. The ocean, at the plunge of the huge rock, heaved the ship toward Polyphemus; but a second rock which he hurled, striking aft, propelled them fortunately in the direction that they desired to take. Ulysses was about to hail the giant again, but his friends besought him not to do so.

He could not forbear, however, letting the giant know that they had escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached a safer distance than before. The giant answered them with curses, while Ulysses and his friends, plying their oars vigorously, regained their companions.

=234. [334] He treated Ulysses hospitably, and at his departure gave him, tied up in a leathern bag with a silver string, such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous, commanding fair winds to blow the barks toward their country. Nine days they sped before the wind, and all that time Ulysses had stood at the helm without sleep. At last quite exhausted he lay down to sleep. While he slept, the crew conferred together about the mysterious bag, and concluded it must contain treasures given by the hospitable King Æolus to their commander. Tempted to secure some portion for themselves, they loosed the string, when immediately the winds rushed forth. The ships were driven far from their course and back again to the island they had just left. Æolus, indignant at their folly, refused to assist them further, and they were obliged to labor over their course once more by means of their oars.

=235. The Læstrygonians.= Their next adventure was with the barbarous tribe of Læstrygonians. The vessels all pushed into the harbor, tempted by the secure appearance of the cove, completely landlocked; only Ulysses moored his vessel without. As soon as the Læstrygonians found the ships completely in their power, they attacked them, heaving huge stones which broke and overturned them, while with their spears they dispatched the seamen as they struggled in the water. All the vessels with their crews were destroyed, except Ulysses' own ship which had remained outside. He, finding no safety but in flight, exhorted his men to ply their oars vigorously; and they escaped.

=236. = With grief for their slain companions mixed with joy at their own escape, they pursued their way till they arrived at the Ææan isle, where Circe dwelt, the daughter of the sun. Landing here, Ulysses climbed a hill and, gazing round, saw no signs of habitation except in one spot at the center of the island, where he perceived a palace embowered with trees. He sent forward one half of his crew, under the command of Eurylochus, to see what prospect of hospitality they might find. As they approached the palace, they found themselves surrounded by lions, tigers, and wolves, not fierce, but tamed by Circe's art, for she was a powerful magician. These animals had once been men, but had been changed by Circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts. The sounds of soft music were heard from within, and a sweet female voice singing.

Eurylochus called aloud, and the goddess came forth and invited them in; they all gladly entered except Eurylochus, who suspected danger. The goddess conducted her guests to a seat, and had them served with wine and other delicacies. When they had feasted heartily, she touched them one by one with her wand, and they became immediately changed into swine, in "head, body, voice, and bristles," yet with their intellects as before. She shut them in her styes and supplied them with acorns and such other things as swine love.

Eurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the tale. Ulysses thereupon determined to go himself and try if by any means he might deliver his companions. As he strode onward alone, he met a youth who addressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted with his adventures. He announced himself as Mercury, and informed Ulysses of the arts of Circe and of the danger of approaching her. As Ulysses was not to be dissuaded from his attempt, Mercury provided him with a sprig of the plant Moly, of wonderful power to resist sorceries, and instructed him how to act.

Meanwhile the companions of Ulysses made mournful plaint to their cruel mistress:

"If swine we be,--if we indeed be swine, Daughter of Persé, make us swine indeed, Well-pleased on litter-straw to lie supine,-- Well-pleased on mast and acorn-shales to feed, Stirred by all instincts of the bestial breed; But O Unmerciful! O Pitiless! "Make thou us men again,--if men but groping That dark Hereafter which th' Olympians keep; Make thou us men again,--if men but hoping Behind death's doors security of sleep;-- For yet to laugh is somewhat, and to sleep;-- To feel delight of living, and to plow The salt-blown acres of the shoreless deep;-- Better,--yea better far all these than bow Foul faces to foul earth, and yearn--as we do now!"

So they in speech unsyllabled. But She, The fair-tressed Goddess, born to be their bane, Uplifting straight her wand of ivory, Compelled them groaning to the styes again; Where they in hopeless bitterness were fain To rend the oaken woodwork as before, And tear the troughs in impotence of pain,-- Not knowing, they, that even at the door Divine Odysseus stood,--as Hermes told of yore.[335]

Ulysses, reaching the palace, was courteously received by Circe, who entertained him as she had done his companions, but after he had eaten and drunk, touched him with her wand, saying, "Hence, seek the stye and wallow with thy friends." But he, instead of obeying, drew his sword and rushed on her with fury in his countenance. She fell on her knees and begged for mercy.

He dictated a solemn oath that she would release his companions and practice no further harm against him or them; and she repeated it, at the same time promising to dismiss them all in safety after hospitably entertaining them. She was as good as her word. The men were restored to their shapes, the rest of the crew summoned from the shore, and all magnificently entertained day after day, till Ulysses seemed to have forgotten his native land and to have reconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and pleasure.

=237. Ulysses visits Hades.= At length his companions recalled him to nobler sentiments, and he received their admonition gratefully. Circe, won over by his prayers, consented to send him on his homeward way. But she warned him that first he must perform another journey, must visit the Underworld and there learn from the shade of Tiresias, the blind prophet of Thebes, the way and measure of his path, and how to proceed to Ithaca over the teeming deep.

"But who will guide us?" queried Ulysses in amaze; "for no man ever yet sailed to hell in a black ship."

"Son of Laërtes," replied the Goddess, "Ulysses of many devices, nay, trouble not thyself for want of a guide, by thy ship abiding, but set up the mast and spread abroad the white sails and sit thee down; and the breeze of the North Wind will bear thy vessel on her way. But when thou hast now sailed in thy ship across the stream Oceanus where is a waste shore and the groves of Persephone, even tall poplar trees and willows that shed their fruit before the season, there beach thy ship by deep-eddying Oceanus, but go thyself to the dank house of Hades. Thereby into Acheron flows Pyriphlegethon, and Cocytus, a branch of the water of the Styx; and there is a rock, and the meeting of the two roaring waters. There dig a trench and pour a drink offering to all the dead, mead and sweet wine and water, sprinkling white meal thereon. And when thou hast prayed to them, offer up a ram and a black ewe. "[336]

So Ulysses and his companions did as they were bid. And the ship came to the limits of the world, to the deep-flowing Oceanus. There is the land and city of the Cimmerians, where no ray of sunshine ever falls, but deadly night is outspread over miserable mortals. And there Ulysses and those with him performed the drink offering and the prayer and the sacrifice; and Ulysses fended off the spirits of the dead from the blood until the soul of the Theban prophet arrived. And that one, having drunk of the dark blood, declared unto Ulysses the future of his way: how the Earthshaker, god of the waters, should oppose him, but how he should win home without further disaster if, when passing the isle Thrinacia, he would but restrain the spirit of his men so that they should do no injury to the cattle of the Sun grazing thereon.

If, however, these cattle were not respected but hurt, then there should follow ruin for both ship and men; and Ulysses himself on the ship of strangers should return late in time to his home, to find sorrows there, proud men wasting his patrimony and wooing his godlike wife to wed her. But that he should avenge their violence, and settle his affairs at home, and then betake himself again to wandering; and that from the sea should his own death come,--"the gentlest death that may be, which shall end thee fordone with smooth old age; and the folk shall dwell happily around thee."

In the land of Hades, Ulysses saw also the shade of his mother, and spoke with her of his father and of Penelope, his wife, and of his son Telemachus. And he saw also the shades of Antiope and Alcmene and Phædra and Procris; and of Agamemnon, and Achilles, and Ajax, the son of Telamon, and of many others, and spoke with them of their own fates and of the affairs of the upper world.

=238. The Sirens.= Returning from the abode of the shades, Ulysses revisited the Ææan isle and recounted to Circe his adventures and the wondrous visions and the laws of Hell. She in return speeded his homeward voyage, instructing him particularly how to pass safely by the coast of the Sirens.[337]

These nymphs had the power, as has been already said, of charming by their song all who heard them, so that mariners were impelled to cast themselves into the sea to destruction. Circe directed Ulysses to stop the ears of his seamen with wax, so that they should not hear the strain; to have himself bound to the mast, and to enjoin his people, whatever he might say or do, by no means to release him till they should have passed the Sirens' island. Ulysses obeyed these directions. As they approached the Sirens' island, the sea was calm, and over the waters came notes of music so ravishing and attractive that Ulysses struggled to get loose and, by cries and signs to his people, begged to be released; but they, obedient to his previous orders, sprang forward and bound him still faster.

They held on their course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased to be heard, when with joy Ulysses gave his companions the signal to unseal their ears; and they relieved him from his bonds. It is said that one of the Sirens, Parthenope, in grief at the escape of Ulysses drowned herself. Her body was cast up on the Italian shore where now stands the city of Naples, in early times called by the Siren's name.

=239. = Ulysses had been warned by Circe of the two monsters Scylla and Charybdis. We have already met with Scylla in the myth of Glaucus. She dwelt in a cave high up on the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust forth her long necks (for she had six heads), and in each of her mouths to seize one of the crew of every vessel passing within reach. The other terror, Charybdis, was a gulf nearly on a level with the water. Thrice each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm, and thrice was disgorged. Any vessel coming near the whirlpool when the tide was rushing in must inevitably be engulfed; not Neptune himself could save it. On approaching the haunt of the dread monsters, Ulysses kept strict watch to discover them. The roar of the waters as Charybdis engulfed them gave warning at a distance, but Scylla could nowhere be discerned.

While Ulysses and his men watched with anxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on their guard from the attack of Scylla,[338] and the monster, darting forth her snaky heads, caught six of his men and bore them away shrieking to her den. Ulysses was unable to afford any assistance.

=240. = Both Tiresias and Circe had warned him of another danger. After passing Scylla and Charybdis the next land he would make was Thrinacia, an island whereon were pastured the cattle of Helios, the Sun, tended by his daughters Lampetia and Phaëthusa. These flocks must not be violated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. If this injunction were transgressed, destruction was sure to fall on the offenders. Ulysses would willingly have passed the island of the Sun without stopping, but his companions so urgently pleaded for the rest and refreshment that would be derived from anchoring and passing the night on shore, that Ulysses yielded. He made them swear, however, not to touch the sacred flocks and herds, but to content themselves with what provision they yet had left of the supply which Circe had put on board.

So long as this supply lasted the people kept their oath; but contrary winds detained them at the island for a month, and after consuming all their stock of provisions, they were forced to rely on the birds and fishes they could catch. Famine pressed them, and at last, in the absence of Ulysses, they slew some of the cattle, vainly attempting to make amends for the deed by offering from them a portion to the offended powers. Ulysses, on his return to the shore, was horror-struck at perceiving what they had done, and the more so on account of the portentous signs which followed. The skins crept on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the spits while roasting.

The wind becoming fair, they sailed from the island. They had not gone far when the weather changed, and a storm of thunder and lightning ensued. A stroke of lightning shattered their mast, which in its fall killed the pilot. At last the vessel itself went to pieces. The keel and mast floating side by side, Ulysses formed of them a raft to which he clung; and, the wind changing, the waves bore him to Calypso's island. All the rest of the crew perished.

=241. Calypso's Island.= Calypso, a sea-nymph, received Ulysses hospitably, entertained him magnificently, became enamored of him, and wished to retain him forever, offering him immortality. He remained with her seven long years. But he persisted in his resolution to return to his country and his wife and son.[339] Calypso at last received the command of Jove to dismiss him. Mercury brought the message to her and found her in her grotto.

A garden vine, luxuriant on all sides, Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph, Their sinuous course pursuing side by side, Strayed all around, and everywhere appeared Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er With violets; it was a scene to fill A god from heaven with wonder and delight.[340]

Calypso, with much reluctance, proceeded to obey the commands of Jupiter. She supplied Ulysses with the means of constructing a raft, provisioned it well for him, and gave him a favoring gale. He sped on his course prosperously for many days, till at last, when in sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast and threatened to rend the raft asunder. In this crisis he was seen by a compassionate sea-nymph, Leucothea, who, in the form of a cormorant, alighted on the raft and presented him with a girdle, directing him to bind it beneath his breast, that, if he should be compelled to trust himself to the waves, it might buoy him up and enable him to reach the land.

=242. The Land of the Phæacians.= Ulysses clung to the raft so long as its timbers held together, and when it no longer yielded him support, binding the girdle around him, he swam. Minerva smoothed the billows before him and sent him a wind that rolled the waves towards the shore. The surf beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid approach; but at length finding calm water at the mouth of a gentle stream, he landed, spent with toil, breathless and speechless and almost dead. Reviving after some time, he kissed the soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what course to take. At a short distance he perceived a wood, to which he turned his steps. There finding a covert sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun and the rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed a bed, on which he stretched himself, and, heaping the leaves over him, fell asleep.

[341] These people dwelt originally near the Cyclopes; but, being oppressed by that savage race, they migrated to the isle of Scheria under the conduct of Nausithoüs, their king. They were, the poet tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared manifestly and feasted among them when they offered sacrifices, and did not conceal themselves from solitary wayfarers when they met them. They had abundance of wealth and lived in the enjoyment of it undisturbed by the alarms of war; for as they dwelt remote from gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their shores, and they did not even require to make use of bows and quivers. Their chief employment was navigation. Their ships, which went with the velocity of birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew every port and needed no pilot. Alcinoüs, the son of Nausithoüs, was now their king, a wise and just sovereign, beloved by his people.

Now it happened that the very night on which Ulysses was cast ashore on the Phæacian island, and while he lay sleeping on his bed of leaves, Nausicaa, the daughter of the king, had a dream sent by Minerva, reminding her that her wedding day might not be far distant, and that it would be but a prudent preparation for that event to have a general washing of the clothes of the family.

Dette var ingen liten sak, for kildene lå et stykke unna, og klærne måtte bæres dit. Da hun våknet, skyndte prinsessen seg til foreldrene for å fortelle hva hun hadde i tankene, – uten å nevne bryllupsdagen sin, men med andre like gode grunner. Faren gav straks sitt samtykke og bød stallkarene gjøre i stand en vogn til formålet. Klærne ble lagt oppi, og dronningen, hennes mor, la også rikelig med mat og vin i vognen. Prinsessen satte seg og svingte pisken, mens hennes terner fulgte til fots. Da de kom til elvebredden, slapp de muldyrene på beite, lesset av vognen, bar klærne ned til vannet og utførte arbeidet med munterhet og iver. Så bredte de klærne ut på stranden til tørk, badet selv og satte seg ned for å nyte måltidet; deretter reiste de seg og moret seg med ballspill, mens prinsessen sang for dem.

Men da de hadde brettet klærne sammen og skulle til å dra tilbake til byen, lot Minerva ballen som prinsessen kastet, falle i vannet, så de alle skrek opp, og Odyssevs våknet av lyden.

Helt uten klær oppdaget han at bare noen få busker skilte ham fra en gruppe unge piker, som han etter holdning og drakt kunne se ikke var alminnelige bondejenter, men av høyere stand. Han brøt en løvrik gren av et tre, holdt den foran seg og trådte ut av krattet. Pikene flyktet til alle kanter ved synet av ham, unntatt Nausikaa alene, for Minerva hjalp henne og gav henne mot og klokskap. Odyssevs stod i ærbødig avstand, fortalte om sin ulykkelige situasjon og bønnfalt den skjønne skikkelsen (han visste ikke om hun var dronning eller gudinne) om mat og klær. Prinsessen svarte høflig og lovet øyeblikkelig hjelp og hennes fars gjestfrihet når han fikk vite omstendighetene. Hun ropte tilbake sine spredte terner, irettesatte deres frykt og minnet dem om at faiakerne ikke hadde fiender å frykte. Denne mannen, sa hun, var en ulykkelig vandringsmann, som det var en plikt å ta seg av, for de fattige og fremmede er fra Jupiter.

Hun bød dem bringe mat og klær som tilhørte noen av hennes brødre, fra vognens innhold. Da dette var gjort, og Odyssevs hadde trukket seg tilbake til et lunt sted, vasket sjøskummet av kroppen, kledd seg og spist, lot Pallas ham vokse i skikkelse og utbredte ynde over hans brede bryst og mandige panne.

Prinsessen ble fylt av beundring da hun så ham, og unnlot ikke å si til sine terner at hun ønsket gudene ville sende henne en slik ektemann. Til Odyssevs anbefalte hun at han dro til byen, og fulgte henne og hennes følge så langt veien gikk gjennom markene; men når de nærmet seg byen, ønsket hun at han ikke lenger skulle sees i hennes selskap, for hun fryktet de kommentarer som simple folk kunne komme med ved å se henne vende tilbake i følge med en så staselig fremmed. For å unngå dette ba hun ham stanse i en lund nær byen, hvor det var en gård og hage som tilhørte kongen. Etter å ha gitt prinsessen og hennes følge tid til å nå byen, skulle han så fortsette dit, og ville lett bli vist vei til den kongelige bolig av hvem han måtte møte.

Odyssevs fulgte anvisningene og begav seg i rett tid til byen. [342] Det var Minerva som hadde tatt denne skikkelsen. Odyssevs hilste henne og bad om å bli vist til kong Alkinoos' palass. Piken svarte ærbødig og tilbød seg å være hans veiviser; for palasset, fortalte hun, lå nær hennes fars bolig. Ledet av gudinnen og, ved hennes makt, innhyllet i en sky som skjermet ham mot innsyn, gikk Odyssevs gjennom den travle folkemengden og betraktet med undring havnen, skipene, torget (heltenes møtested) og brystvernene, inntil de kom til palasset, hvor gudinnen, etter først å ha gitt ham noen opplysninger om landet, kongen og folket han snart skulle møte, forlot ham. Før Odyssevs trådte inn i palassets gårdsrom, stod han og betraktet synet. Praktens overrasket ham. Bronsevegger strakte seg fra inngangen til det indre hus, hvor dørene var av gull, dørstolpene av sølv, overliggerne av sølv prydet med gull.

På begge sider stod figurer av jakthunder, utført i gull og sølv, oppstilt på rad som for å vokte inngangen. Langs veggene var benker dekket i hele sin lengde med kapper av fineste vev, faiakerjomfruenes arbeid. På disse benkene satt fyrstene og holdt gjestebud, mens gylne statuer av yndefulle unge menn holdt tente fakler i hendene, som spredte glans over synet. Fullet femti tjenestekvinner utførte huslige sysler, noen med å male korn, andre med å spole den purpurfargede ullen eller veve. For faiakerkvinnene overgikk alle andre kvinner i huslige kunster like mye som dette landets sjøfolk overgikk resten av menneskeheten i skipsbehandling. Utenfor gårdsplassen lå en romslig hage, fire mål i utstrekning. Der vokste mange høye trær: granateple, pære, eple, fiken og oliven. Verken vinterkulde eller sommertørke hemmet deres vekst.

Den dvelende solnedgang, rosenes mor,[343] Dveler, et lys på de trolske sjøer, De vide flammer blaffer, som en blomst utfolder seg, Tung av duft, og sluppet løs for brisen.

De rødrosenskyer, uten lov eller leder, Samler seg og svever på den luftige slette; Nattergalen synger til den duggvåte sederen, Sederen sprer sin duft til havet.

De fremmede blomsters duft blir til sang, Hørt fjernt over månelyse sjøer: Sirenenes sang, som svekkes i flukten, Faller som duft på sedertrærne.

Som vrakgods blåst ut av solnedgangen, flygende, Purpur, rosa og grå, fuglene Lyser opp luften med sine vinger; deres skrik Vekker for et øyeblikk de trette hjorder.

Sommerfugler flagrer fra eventyrhagen, Levende blomster av flygende blomster; Aldri forherdes nettene av vinter, Ei heller blir måner skarpe i vårt land.

Store frukter, duftende, grønne og gylne, Glimter i det grønne, og henger og faller; Blomster, knopper og bloster ufoldet, Svaier og klynger seg til hagemuren.

Dypt i skogene, når skumringen mørkner, Er lysninger røde av den duftende ild; Fjernt i dalene lytter den hvite jomfru Til sang og sukk fra hjertets lengsel.

Odyssevs stod betraktende i beundring, selv ubemerket, for skyen Minerva hadde spredt om ham, skjermet ham fremdeles. Til slutt, da han hadde betraktet synet nok, skred han med raske skritt inn i hallen, hvor høvdingene og de eldste var samlet og utøste drikkoffer til Merkur, hvis dyrkelse fulgte kveldsmåltidet. Nettopp da oppløste Minerva skyen og viste ham for den forsamlede skare. Han gikk frem til stedet hvor dronningen satt, knelte for hennes føtter og tryglet om hennes gunst og hjelp til å vende tilbake til sitt fedreland. Deretter trakk han seg tilbake og satte seg på tilbederes vis ved arnen.

En stund talte ingen. Endelig sa en gammel statsmann henvendt til kongen: «Det sømmer seg ikke at en fremmed som ber om vår gjestfrihet, skal holdes ventende i bønnhørers skikkelse, uten at noen ønsker ham velkommen. La ham derfor bli ført til et sete blant oss og bli tildelt mat og vin.» Ved disse ord reiste kongen seg, rakte Odyssevs sin hånd og førte ham til et sete, idet han flyttet sin egen sønn derfra for å gi plass til den fremmede. Mat og vin ble satt frem for ham, og han åt og vederkveget seg.

Kongen sendte deretter sine gjester bort, idet han underrettet dem om at han neste dag ville innkalle dem til rådsmøte for å drøfte hva som best kunne gjøres for den fremmede.

Da gjestene var gått, og Odyssevs var alene med kongen og dronningen, spurte dronningen ham hvem han var, hvor han kom fra, og (idet hun gjenkjente klærne han bar som dem hennes terner og hun selv hadde laget) fra hvem han hadde fått disse klærne. Han fortalte dem om sitt opphold på Kalypso's øy og sin avreise derfra; om vrakstumper av flåten hans, hans redning ved svømming og den hjelp prinsessen hadde gitt. Foreldrene hørte velvillig på, og kongen lovet å skaffe et skip som gjesten kunne vende tilbake til sitt eget land med.

Neste dag stadfestet den forsamlede høvdingforsamlingen kongens løfte.[344] En skute ble gjort klar, og et mannskap av sterke roere ble valgt ut, og alle begav seg til palasset, hvor et rikelig måltid ble gjort i stand. Etter gjestebudet foreslo kongen at de unge menn skulle vise gjesten sin dyktighet i mandige idretter, og alle gikk ut til kampplassen for leker i løping, bryting og andre øvelser. Etter at alle hadde gjort sitt beste, ble Odyssevs utfordret til å vise hva han kunne; først avslo han, men da han ble hånet av en av de unge menn, grep han en diskos av en vekt langt tyngre enn noen av faiakerne hadde kastet, og sendte den lenger enn deres lengste kast. Alle var forbauset og betraktet gjesten med sterkt forøket aktelse.

Etter lekene vendte de tilbake til hallen, og herolden førte Demodokos inn, den blinde skalden, –

Kjær for musen, som dog gav ham både godt og ondt, Tok synet fra ham, men gav ham guddommelige sanger.

Han tok trehesten som tema, det middel hvormed grekerne fikk inngang til Troja. Apollon inspirerte ham, og han sang så følt om denne skjebnesvangre tids redsler og bedrifter at alle frydet seg, men Odyssevs ble rørt til tårer. Da Alkinoos merket dette, spurte han ham, da sangen var slutt, hvorfor hans sorg våknet ved omtalen av Troja. Hadde han mistet en far, en bror eller noen kjær venn der? Odyssevs svarte med å kunngjøre seg selv under sitt sanne navn, og på deres anmodning fortalte han de hendelser som hadde hendt ham siden avreisen fra Troja. Denne fortellingen vakte faiakernes sympati og beundring for deres gjest til det høyeste. Kongen foreslo at alle høvdingene skulle gi ham en gave, og selv gikk han foran med eksempelet. De adlød og kappedes om å overøse den berømmelige fremmede med kostbare gaver.

Neste dag seilte Odyssevs avsted i faiakerskuten og ankom i løpet av kort tid trygt til Ithaka, sin egen øy.[345] Da fartøyet støtte mot stranden, sov han. Sjøfolkene bar ham, uten å vekke ham, i land og satte i land med ham kisten som inneholdt hans gaver, og seilte så bort.

Neptun var så misfornøyd med faiakernes oppførsel ved slik å redde Odyssevs fra hans hender at han, da skipet vendte tilbake til havnen, forvandlet det til en klippe, rett utenfor havnemunningen.

=243. Friernes skjebne.= Odyssevs hadde nå vært borte fra Ithaka i tjue år, og da han våknet, gjenkjente han ikke sitt fedreland:

«En gud har kastet meg i land her, Og å, hvilket land? Så tett er sjødisen, Alt er fantomaktig. Hvilken konge hersker her? Hva slags folk bor her? – grusomme mot fremmede, Eller gjestfrie? Gudene har løyet for meg Når de forutsa at jeg skulle se Ithaka. Dette er en svømmende og kimmerisk øy, Med melankolske tåkemennesker. Ah, Ithaka, jeg skal ikke se deg mer!»[346]

Men Minerva viste seg i skikkelse av en ung hyrde, fortalte ham hvor han var og underrettet ham om forholdene ved hans palass. Mer enn hundre adelsmenn fra Ithaka og de omkringliggende øyer hadde i årevis fridd til Penelope, hans hustru, i den tro at han var død, og hersket over hans palass og folk som om de eide begge.

Penelope var en av de mytiske heltinne hvis skjønnhet ikke bare var personlig, men også i karakter og oppførsel. Hun var niese av Tyndareus – datter av hans bror Ikarios, en spartansk prins. Odyssevs, som fridde til henne, hadde vunnet henne foran alle andre friere. Men da øyeblikket kom da bruden skulle forlate sin fars hus, kunne Ikarios ikke bære tanken på å skilles fra sin datter og prøvde å overtale henne til å bli hos ham og ikke følge ektemannen til Ithaka. Odyssevs gav Penelope valget, å bli eller dra med ham. Penelope svarte ikke, men lot sløret falle over ansiktet. Ikarios gav seg da, men da hun var reist, reiste han en statue til Ærbarheten på stedet der de skiltes.

Odyssevs og Penelope hadde ikke nytt sin forening i mer enn ett år da den ble avbrutt av hendelsene som kalte Odyssevs til Trojanerkrigen. Under hans lange fravær, da det var tvilsomt om han fremdeles levde, og høyst usannsynlig at han noensinne ville vende tilbake, ble Penelope plaget av tallrike friere, som det ikke syntes å være noen tilflukt fra, uten ved å velge en av dem til ektefelle. Hun benyttet imidlertid alle kunster for å vinne tid, i håp om Odyssevs' hjemkomst. En av hennes utsettelsesmetoder var å begynne på en kappe til Laërtes' liksvøp, hennes ektemanns far. Hun forpliktet seg til å velge blant frierne når veven var ferdig. Om dagen arbeidet hun på den, men om natten raknet hun opp dagens arbeid.

For at Odyssevs ved sin hjemkomst skulle kunne ta hevn over frierne, var det viktig at han ikke ble gjenkjent. Minerva forvandlet ham derfor til en ussel tigger, og som sådan ble han vennlig mottatt av svinehyrden Evmaios, en trofast tjener i hans hus.[347]

Telemakos, hans sønn, hadde en tid vært borte på leting etter sin far, og besøkte hoffene til de andre kongene som var vendt tilbake fra Trojanertoget. [348] Han kom nettopp nå, og oppsøkte Evmaios for å få vite noe om tilstanden ved palasset før han viste seg blant frierne. Da han fant en fremmed hos Evmaios, behandlet han ham høflig, skjønt i tiggerklær, og lovet ham hjelp. Evmaios ble sendt til palasset for i hemmelighet å underrette Penelope om sønnens ankomst, for forsiktighet var nødvendig med hensyn til frierne, som, slik Telemakos hadde fått vite, planla å snappe ham bort og drepe ham. Da svinehyrden var gått, åpenbarte Minerva seg for Odyssevs og bød ham gjøre seg kjent for sønnen. Samtidig rørte hun ved ham, fjernet straks alderdommens og fattigdommens preg og gav ham det kraftige manndomsutseende som tilhørte ham. Telemakos betraktet ham med forundring og trodde først han måtte være mer enn dødelig.

Men Odyssevs gav seg til kjenne som hans far, og forklarte forandringen av utseende med at det var Minervas verk.

Da kastet Telemakos Sine armer om sin fars hals og gråt. Et sterkt begjær etter klage grep Dem begge; de utstøtte myke klynk, og hver gav Sin sorg fritt løp.[349]

Faren og sønnen rådslo sammen om hvordan de skulle få bukt med frierne og straffe dem for deres overgrep. Det ble avtalt at Telemakos skulle gå til palasset og omgås frierne som før; at Odyssevs også skulle gå som tigger, en skikkelse som i de barske gamle tider hadde andre privilegier enn vi nå innrømmer den. Som reisende og forteller ble tiggeren tatt inn i høvdingers haller og ofte behandlet som en gjest; skjønt undertiden også, utvilsomt, med forakt. Odyssevs påla sønnen ikke å forråde, ved noen uvanlig interesse, at han visste at faren var noe annet enn han så ut, og selv om han så ham bli fornærmet eller slått, ikke å gripe inn annerledes enn han ville gjort for en fremmed. På palasset fant de det vanlige syn: gjestebud og svir. Frierne lot som de mottok Telemakos med glede ved hjemkomsten, skjønt i hemmelighet ergret de seg over at deres planer om å ta livet av ham hadde mislyktes.

Den gamle tiggeren fikk tillatelse til å komme inn og ble tildelt en porsjon fra bordet. En gripende hendelse inntraff da Odyssevs trådte inn i palassets gårdsrom. En gammel hund lå på gårdsplassen, nesten død av alder, og da den så en fremmed tre inn, løftet den hodet med oppreiste ører. Det var Argos, Odyssevs' egen hund, som han i tidligere dager ofte hadde ført på jakt.

Så snart han merket Den lenge savnede Odyssevs nær, falt ørene ned Tett inntil, og med halen gav han glade tegn Til hilsen, men var for svak til å reise seg Og nærme seg sin herre som før. Odyssevs, som så ham, tørket bort en tåre Umerket... Så forløste skjebnen Gamle Argos, straks han hadde fått oppleve Odyssevs i det tjuende år tilbakevendt.[350]

Mens Odyssevs satt og spiste sin porsjon i hallen, begynte frierne snart å vise ham sin uforskammethet. Da han mildt tok til motmæle, reiste en av dem en skammel og gav ham et slag med den. Telemakos måtte anstrenge seg for å holde tilbake sin harme over å se sin far bli behandlet slik i hans egen hall; men idet han husket farens pålegg, sa han ikke mer enn det som anstod seg ham som husets herre, skjønt ung, og som beskytter av gjester.

Nok en gang var vandringsmannen nær ved å bli forrådt – da hans gamle amme Evrykleia, som vasket føttene hans, gjenkjente et arr etter et sår tilføyd ham av et villsvin for lenge siden.[351] Sorg og glede overveldet den gamle konen, og hun ville ha åpenbart ham for Penelope hvis ikke Odyssevs hadde pålagt henne taushet.

Penelope hadde trukket ut sin avgjørelse til fordel for noen av frierne så lenge at det ikke syntes å være noe videre påskudd til å vente. Ektemannens fortsatte fravær syntes å bevise at man ikke lenger kunne vente hans hjemkomst. I mellomtiden var sønnen vokst opp og i stand til å styre sine egne saker. Hun samtykket derfor i å underkaste spørsmålet om sitt valg en ferdighetsprøve blant frierne. Den prøven man valgte, var bueskyting.[352] Tolv ringer ble anbrakt på rad, og den hvis pil ble sendt gjennom alle tolv, skulle få dronningen som seierspris. En bue som en av hans brorhelter hadde gitt Odyssevs i tidligere tider, ble hentet fra våpenkammeret og med sitt pilekogger fullt av piler lagt i hallen. Telemakos hadde sørget for at alle andre våpen ble fjernet, under påskudd av at det i kappestridens hete var fare for, i et ubetenksomt øyeblikk, å bruke dem på upassende vis.

(Venstre halvdel)]

Da alt var gjort i stand til prøven, var det første som måtte gjøres, å spenne buen for å feste strengen. Han prøvde med ikke bedre hell, og oppgav det under kameratenes latter og spott. En annen prøvde, og enda en; de gned buen med talg, men alt til ingen nytte; den ville ikke spennes. Da talte Odyssevs, idet han ydmykt gav til kjenne at han burde få tillatelse til å prøve; «for skjønt jeg er en tigger, var jeg engang soldat, og det er fremdeles noe styrke i disse gamle lemmer.» Frierne ropte hånlig og befalte at han skulle kastes ut av hallen for sin uforskammethet. Men Telemakos tok til orde for ham, og bare for å gjøre den gamle mannen til lags, bad han ham prøve. Odyssevs tok buen og håndterte den med en mesters hånd. Med letthet festet han strengen i hakket, deretter satte han en pil på buen, trakk strengen og sendte pilen usvikelig gjennom ringene.

(Høyre halvdel)]

Uten å gi dem tid til å uttrykke sin forbauselse, sa han: «Nå mot et annet mål!» og siktet rett mot Antinoos, den frekkeste av frierne.[353] Pilen gjennomboret strupen hans, og han falt død om. Telemakos, Evmaios og en annen tro følgesvenn, godt bevæpnet, styrtet nå til Odyssevs' side. Frierne så seg forbløffet om etter våpen, men fant ingen; det var heller ingen fluktvei, for Evmaios hadde sikret døren. Odyssevs lot dem ikke lenge i uvisshet; han kunngjorde seg som den lenge savnede høvding, hvis hus de hadde trengt seg inn i, hvis eiendom de hadde sløst bort, hvis hustru og sønn de hadde forfulgt i ti lange år; og fortalte dem at han aktet å ta grundig hevn. Alle unntatt to ble drept, og Odyssevs stod tilbake som herre i sitt palass og eier av sitt rike og sin hustru.

=244. Tennysons Odyssevs.= Tennysons dikt om Odyssevs fremstiller den gamle helten, – hans farer overstått, og intet tilbake uten å bli hjemme og være lykkelig, – som blir trett av uvirksomhet og beslutter seg for igjen å dra ut på jakt etter nye eventyr.

Det nytter lite at en ledig konge, Ved denne stille arne, blant golde skrenter, Forent med en aldrende hustru, måler opp og deler ut Urette lover til en vill rase, Som samler, sover, eter og ikke kjenner meg. Jeg kan ikke hvile fra reiser: Jeg vil drikke Livet til bunns: alle tider har jeg nytt sterkt, Lidt sterkt, både med dem Som elsket meg, og alene; på land, og når gjennom jagende byger de regntunge Hyadene Opprørte det mørke hav: Jeg er blitt et navn; For alltid streifende med et sultent hjerte Har jeg sett og kjent meget: menneskers byer, Og seder, klimaer, råd, styresett, Meg selv ikke minst, men æret av dem alle; Og drukket kampens fryd med mine likemenn, Langt borte på de rungende sletter ved det stormfulle Troja. Jeg er en del av alt jeg har møtt; Men all erfaring er en bue hvorigjennom Glitrer den ubetrådde verden, hvis rand blekner For evig og alltid når jeg flytter meg.

Hvor kjedelig det er å stanse, å gjøre en ende, Å ruste upusset, ikke skinne i bruk! Som om det å puste var livet. Liv lagt til liv Var enda altfor lite, og av ett Fins lite igjen for meg: men hver time reddes Fra den evige stillhet, noe mer, En bringer av nye ting; og usselt ville det være For noen tre soler å gjemme og spare på meg selv, Og denne grå ånd som lengselsfullt higer Etter å følge kunnskap som en synkende stjerne, Hinsides mennesketankens ytterste grense.

Dette er min sønn, min egen Telemakos, Som jeg overlater septeret og øya – Høyt elsket av meg, klarsynt nok til å oppfylle Dette verket, ved langsom klokskap å gjøre mildt Et stridbart folk, og gjennom myke grader Tvinge dem til det nyttige og gode. Helt ulastelig er han, sentrert i sfæren Av hverdagsplikter, sømmelig nok til ikke å svikte I ømhetens gjerninger, og yte Tilbørlig hyllest til mine husguder, Når jeg er borte. Han gjør sitt verk, jeg mitt.

*

Der ligger havnen: fartøyet blåser opp sitt seil: Der formørkes de mørke vide hav. Mine sjøfolk, Sjeler som har strevd, virket og tenkt med meg – Som alltid med munter velkomst tok imot Torden og solskinn, og satte opp Frie hjerter, frie panner – De og jeg er gamle; Alderdommen har dog sin ære og sitt strev; Døden avslutter alt: men noe før enden, Noe verk av edel klang, kan enda gjøres, Ikke upassende for menn som stred med guder. Lysene begynner å blinke fra klippene: Den lange dag svinner: den sene måne stiger: dypet Stønner omkring med mange røster. Kom, mine venner, Det er ikke for sent å søke en nyere verden. Støt fra, og sittende velordnet, kløv De lydefulle furer; for mitt forsett holder Å seile hinsides solnedgangen, og badene Til alle vestens stjerner, inntil jeg dør. Det kan være at havdypet vil vaske oss ned: Det kan være vi vil berøre de Saliges Øyer, Og se den store Akillevs, som vi kjente.

Skjønt meget er tatt, meget består; og skjønt Vi er ikke den styrken som i gamle dager Beveget jord og himmel, det vi er, er vi; Et likevektig sinn av heltehjerter, Gjort svakt av tid og skjebne, men sterkt i vilje Til å streve, søke, finne, og ikke gi opp.

FOTNOTER:

[330] Sonett av Andrew Lang.

[331] For Odysseens forfatterskap, se § 298 (3); og for oversettelser, se tilsvarende avsnitt av Kommentaren.

[332] Odysseen, 9.

[333] § 141.

[334] Odysseen, 10.

[335] Fra Austin Dobsons Svinenes bønn til Kirke.

[336] Odysseen, 10; tilpasset fra Butcher og Langs oversettelse. Så det følgende fra Odysseen, 11.

[337] Odysseen, 12.

[338] Incidit in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim.

[339] Odysseen, 1, 10.

[340] Odysseen, 5, 64 (Cowpers oversettelse).

[341] Odysseen, 6.

[342] Odysseen, 7.

[343] Andrew Lang, En sang fra Faïakia.

[344] Odysseen, 8.

[345] Odysseen, 13.

[346] Stephen Phillips, Odyssevs.

[347] Odysseen, 14.

[348] Odysseen, 15.

[349] Odysseen 16, 212 (Cowpers oversettelse).

[350] Odysseen, 17, 290 (Cowpers oversettelse).

[351] Odysseen, 19.

[352] Odysseen, 21.

[353] Odysseen, 22.

Romerske Virgil, du som synger Ilions høye templer kledd i ild, Ilion faller, Roma reiser seg, kriger og troskap til far og Didos bål;

Landskapselsker, språkets herre mer enn han som sang om Verk og dager, All fantasiens utvalgte mynt som glimter fra mang en gylden frase;...

Lys blant svunne tidsaldre; stjerne som ennå forgylter denne fantomkyst; Gyllen gren blant skyggene, konger og riker som forgår for aldri å reise seg mer;...

Nå er slavenes Roma gått under, og de fries Roma holder sin plass, Jeg, fra den nordlige øya engang avskåret fra hele menneskeslekten,

Jeg hilser deg, Mantovano, jeg som har elsket deg siden min dag begynte, Svinger av det stauteste versemål noensinne formet av menneskers lepper.[354]

=245. Fra Troja til Italia.= Homer forteller historien om en av de greske heltene, Odyssevs, på hans omflakkende reise hjem fra Troja. Vergil forteller i sin Æneide[355] den mytiske skjebnen til restene av det beseirede folket under deres høvding Æneas, sønn av Venus og trojaneren Anchises, i deres søken etter et nytt hjem etter ødeleggelsen av deres fødeby. På den skjebnesvangre natten da den trojanske hesten utspydde sitt innhold av væpnede menn, og byens erobring og brann ble resultatet, unnslapp Æneas fra ødeleggelsens scene med sin far, sin hustru og sin unge sønn. Faren, Anchises, var for gammel til å gå med den nødvendige hastigheten, og Æneas bar ham på sine skuldre. Slik tynget, mens han ledet sin sønn og ble fulgt av sin hustru, banet han seg vei ut av den brennende byen så godt han kunne; men i forvirringen ble hans hustru, Kreüsa, revet bort og gikk tapt.

=246. = Da de ankom møtestedet, fant de tallrike flyktninger av begge kjønn som stilte seg under Æneas' ledelse. Noen måneder ble tilbrakt med forberedelser, og til slutt gikk de om bord. De landet først på de nærliggende kystene av Trakia og forberedte seg på å bygge en by, men Æneas ble avskrekket av et jærtegn. Idet han forberedte et offer, rev han noen kvister av en av buskene. Til hans forferdelse dryppet det blod fra det sårede stedet. Da han gjentok handlingen, ropte en stemme fra jorden til ham: «Spar meg, Æneas; jeg er din slektning Polydoros, her myrdet med mange piler, og av dem har en busk vokst opp, næret av mitt blod.» Disse ordene minnet Æneas om at Polydoros var en ung prins av Troja, som hans far hadde sendt med rike skatter til det nærliggende landet Trakia for å bli oppfostret der, fjernt fra krigens redsler. Kongen han ble sendt til, hadde myrdet ham og tatt skattene hans.

Æneas og hans følgesvenner, som anså landet som forbannet på grunn av en slik forbrytelse, skyndte seg bort.

=247. = De landet deretter på øya Delos. Her rådførte Æneas seg med Apollons orakel og fikk et svar, tvetydig som vanlig: «Søk din gamle mor; der skal Æneas' ætt bo og underkaste alle andre nasjoner sitt herredømme.» Trojanerne hørte dette med glede og begynte straks å spørre hverandre: «Hvor er stedet som oraklet mente?» Anchises husket at det fantes en overlevering om at forfedrene deres stammet fra Kreta, og dit bestemte de seg for å styre. De ankom Kreta og begynte å bygge sin by; men sykdom brøt ut blant dem, og åkrene de hadde sådd, gav ingen avling. I denne dystre situasjonen ble Æneas advart i en drøm om å forlate landet og søke et vestlig land kalt Hesperia, som Dardanos, trojanerættens sanne grunnlegger, etter sigende skulle ha utvandret fra.

Til Hesperia, nå kalt Italia, rettet de derfor sin videre kurs, og det var ikke før etter mange eventyr og en tidsperiode lang nok til å føre en moderne sjøfarer flere ganger jorden rundt, at de nådde frem.

=248. = Deres første landgang var på harpyenes øy. Disse var motbydelige fugler med jomfruhoder, lange klør og ansikter bleke av sult. De var sendt av gudene for å plage en viss Finevs, som Jupiter hadde berøvet synet som straff for hans grusomhet; og hver gang et måltid ble satt frem for ham, styrtet harpyene ned fra luften og røvet det bort. De ble jaget bort fra Finevs av heltene fra argonautertoget og tok tilflukt på øya der Æneas nå fant dem. Da trojanerne seilte inn i havnen, så de flokker av kveg som streifet om på sletten. De slaktet så mange de ønsket og forberedte et festmåltid. Men ikke før hadde de satt seg til bords, før en fryktelig larm hørtes i luften, og en flokk av disse motbydelige harpyene kom styrtende ned over dem, grep kjøttet fra fatene med klørne og fløy bort med det.

Æneas og hans følgesvenner trakk sverdene sine og slo kraftige slag mot monstrene, men til ingen nytte, for de var så rappe at det var nesten umulig å treffe dem, og fjærene deres var som en rustning ugjennomtrengelige for stål. En av dem, som satt på en nærliggende klippe, skrek: «Er det slik, trojanere, at dere behandler oss uskyldige fugler, først slakter kveget vårt og så angriper oss selv?» Hun forutsa deretter fryktelige lidelser for dem på deres videre ferd, og fløy bort etter å ha fått utløp for sitt raseri.

=249. Epeiros.= Trojanerne skyndte seg å forlate landet, og befant seg deretter langs kysten av Epeiros. Her gikk de i land og lærte til sin forundring at visse trojanske flyktninger, som var blitt ført dit som fanger, var blitt landets herskere. Andromake, Hectors enke, hadde født tre sønner for Neoptolemos i Epeiros. Men da han avviste henne til fordel for Hermione, overlot han henne til sin medfange, Helenos, Hectors bror. Nå da Neoptolemos var død, var hun blitt Helenos' hustru; og de hersket over riket. Helenos og Andromake viste flyktningene den største gjestfrihet og lot dem dra lastet med gaver.

=250. = Herfra seilte Æneas langs kysten av Sicilia og passerte kyklopenes land. Her ble de ropt an fra land av et ynkelig skikkelse, som de på de fillete klærne kunne se var en greker. Han fortalte at han var en av Odyssevs' følgesvenner, etterlatt av denne høvdingen da han skyndte seg av gårde. Han gjenfortalte historien om Odyssevs' eventyr med Polyfemos og bønnfalt dem om å ta ham med seg, siden han ikke hadde noe å leve av der han var, bare ville bær og røtter, og levde i konstant frykt for kyklopene. [356] Han gikk med forsiktige skritt, følte seg frem med en stav, ned til strandkanten for å vaske øyehulen sin i bølgene. Da han nådde vannet, vadet han ut mot dem, og hans enorme høyde gjorde at han kunne gå langt ut i sjøen, slik at trojanerne i redsel grep årene for å komme seg unna.

Da Polyfemos hørte årene, brølte han etter dem så kysten runget, og ved larmen kom de andre kyklopene frem fra hulene og skogene sine og stilte seg opp langs stranden som en rekke høye furutrær. Trojanerne rodde av alle krefter og mistet dem snart av syne.

Æneas var blitt advart av Helenos mot å passere sundet bevoktet av uhyrene Skylla og Kharybdis. Der, som leseren vil huske, hadde Odyssevs mistet seks av sine menn, revet bort av Skylla mens de sjøfarende var fullt opptatt med å unngå Kharybdis. Æneas, som fulgte Helenos' råd, unngikk den farlige passasjen og seilte langs kysten av Sicilia.

=251. Junos harme.= Da Juno så trojanerne fare så heldig mot sitt tiltenkte land, blusset hennes gamle nag mot dem opp igjen, for hun kunne ikke glemme den krenkelsen Paris hadde utsatt henne for da han tildelte skjønnhetsprisen til en annen. Kan slikt nag virkelig bo i himmelske sinn?[357] Deretter gav hun ordre til Æolos, som sendte ut sine sønner, Boreas, Tyfon og de andre vindene, for å piske opp havet. En forferdelig storm brøt løs, og de trojanske skipene ble drevet ut av kurs mot Afrikas kyst. De var i overhengende fare for å forlise, og ble spredt, slik at Æneas trodde at alle unntatt hans eget skip var gått tapt.

I dette kritiske øyeblikket hørte Neptun stormen rase, og da han visste at han ikke hadde gitt ordre om noen, hevet han hodet over bølgene og så Æneas' flåte drive foran vinden. Han forstod Junos fiendskap og var ikke i tvil om årsaken, men hans vrede var ikke mindre over denne innblandingen i hans domene. Han kalte på vindene og sendte dem bort med en streng irettesettelse. Deretter la han bølgene til ro og feide skyene bort foran solens åsyn. Noen av skipene som hadde havnet på klippene, vippet han løs med sin egen trefork, mens Triton og en havnymfe satte skuldrene under andre og fikk dem på flot igjen. Så snart sjøen var blitt rolig, søkte trojanerne den nærmeste kysten – Karthagos kyst, der Æneas var så heldig å oppdage at alle skipene etter hvert ankom i god behold, om enn sterkt rystet.

=252. Oppholdet i Karthago. = Karthago, der flyktningene nå var kommet, var et sted på Afrikas kyst rett overfor Sicilia, der en tyrisk koloni under dronning Dido på den tiden var i ferd med å legge grunnlaget for en stat som i senere tider skulle bli Romas rival. Dido var datter av kong Belos av Tyros og søster av Pygmalion, som etterfulgte sin far på tronen. Hennes ektemann var Sikhaios, en mann med enorm rikdom, men Pygmalion, som begjærte skattene hans, lot ham drepe. Dido lyktes, med en stor flokk av venner og tilhengere, både menn og kvinner, i å flykte fra Tyros i flere skip, og tok med seg Sikhaios' skatter. Da de kom til stedet de valgte som sete for sitt fremtidige hjem, ba de de innfødte om bare så mye land som de kunne omslutte med en oksehud. Da dette villig ble innvilget, lot dronningen huden skjære i strimler, og med dem omsluttet hun et sted der hun bygde en borg og kalte den Byrsa (en hud).

Rundt denne borgen vokste byen Karthago opp og ble snart et mektig og blomstrende sted.

Slik var situasjonen da Æneas og hans trojanere ankom. Dido mottok de berømte flyktningene med vennlighet og gjestfrihet. »[358] Dronningens gjestfrihet viste seg i festligheter der styrke- og ferdighetsleker ble oppført. »[359] Ved festen som fulgte lekene, gav Æneas på hennes anmodning en beretning om de avsluttende hendelsene i Trojas historie og sine egne eventyr etter byens fall. Dido ble betatt av hans tale og fylt av beundring for hans bedrifter. Hun fattet en brennende lidenskap for ham, og han på sin side syntes vel tilfreds med å gripe den heldige sjansen som syntes å tilby ham på én gang en lykkelig avslutning på sine vandringer, et hjem, et kongerike og en brud. Måneder gikk under nytelsen av behagelig samvær, og det virket som om Italia og det riket som var bestemt til å grunnlegges på dets kyster, begge var glemt.

Da Jupiter så dette, sendte han Merkur med et budskap til Æneas for å minne ham om hans høye skjebne og befale ham å gjenoppta sin reise.

Æneas skiltes fra Dido, selv om hun prøvde alle former for lokkemidler og overtalelser for å holde ham tilbake. Slaget mot hennes kjærlighet og stolthet var mer enn hun kunne bære, og da hun fant ut at han var borte, besteg hun et likbål hun hadde latt forberede, og etter å ha stukket seg ned, brant hun opp med bålet. Flammene som steg over byen, ble sett av de avreiste trojanerne, og selv om årsaken var ukjent, gav det Æneas et varsel om den fatale hendelsen.

=253. Palinurus. = Etter å ha anløpt øya Sicilia, der Acestes, en fyrste av trojansk ætt, hersket og gav dem en gjestfri mottakelse, gikk trojanerne om bord igjen og holdt kursen mot Italia. Venus gikk nå i forbønn hos Neptun for endelig å la sønnen nå det etterlengtede målet og finne en slutt på sine farer på dypet. Neptun samtykket, men betinget seg bare ett liv som løsepenge for resten. Offeret var styrmannen Palinurus. Mens han satt og betraktet stjernene med hånden på roret, nærmet Somnus, sendt av Neptun, seg i skikkelse av Phorbas og sa: «Palinurus, vinden er god, sjøen er rolig, og skipet seiler stadig på sin kurs. Legg deg ned en stund og ta nødvendig hvile. Jeg skal stå ved roret i ditt sted.» Palinurus svarte: «Snakk ikke til meg om rolig sjø eller gunstige vinder – jeg som har sett så mye av deres svik. Skal jeg betro Æneas til værets og vindenes luner?» Og han fortsatte å holde fast i roret og å stirre på stjernene.

Men Somnus viftet over ham en gren fuktet med letheisk dugg, og øynene hans lukket seg til tross for alle anstrengelser. Så dyttet Somnus ham over bord, og han falt; men siden han holdt fast i roret, ble det med ham. Neptun var oppmerksom på sitt løfte og holdt skipet på kurs uten ror eller styrmann inntil Æneas oppdaget sitt tap, og i dyp sorg over sin trofaste styrmann overtok han selv roret. Under hans ledelse nådde skipene omsider Italias kyster, og eventyrerne hoppet jublende i land.

Fra maleriet av Michelangelo]

=254. = Mens folket hans var i gang med å slå leir, oppsøkte Æneas sibyllens bolig. Det var en grotte knyttet til et tempel og en lund, helliget Apollon og Diana. Mens Æneas betraktet stedet, tiltalte sibyllen ham. Hun syntes å vite hans ærend, og under innflytelse av stedets gud brøt hun ut i profetiske toner og gav mørke antydninger om de strev og farer som han var bestemt til å måtte kjempe seg gjennom før den endelige seier. »[360] Æneas svarte at han hadde forberedt seg på hva som måtte vente ham. Han hadde bare ett ønske. Ettersom han i en drøm var blitt bedt om å oppsøke de dødes bolig for å rådføre seg med sin far Anchises og motta en åpenbaring om sin fremtidige skjebne og slektens, bad han henne om hjelp til å utføre denne oppgaven. »[361] Hun instruerte ham om å lete i skogen etter et tre som bar en gyllen gren.

Denne grenen skulle rives av og bæres som en gave til Proserpina, og hvis skjebnen var gunstig, ville den gi etter for hånden og slippe sin moderstamme, men ellers kunne ingen makt rive den løs. Hvis den ble revet av, ville en ny vokse opp.

Æneas fulgte sibyllens anvisninger. Hans mor, Venus, sendte to av sine duer for å fly foran ham og vise veien, og med deres hjelp fant han treet, rev grenen og skyndte seg tilbake med den til sibyllen.

=255. = Stedet der Vergil plasserer inngangen til underverdenen, er kanskje det mest slående egnet til å vekke forestillinger om det fryktelige og overnaturlige av noe på jordens overflate. Det er det vulkanske området nær Vesuv, der hele landskapet er oppsprukket av kløfter som svovelholdige flammer stiger opp fra, mens bakken rystes av innefangede damper, og mystiske lyder kommer fra jordens indre. Innsjøen Avernus antas å fylle krateret av en utdødd vulkan. Den er sirkelrund, en halv kilometer bred og svært dyp, omgitt av høye bredder, som på Vergils tid var dekket av en dyster skog. Det stiger mefitiske damper opp fra vannet, slik at det ikke finnes liv på breddene, og ingen fugler flyr over den. Her ofret Æneas til de underjordiske guddommene, Proserpina, Hekate og furiene. Da hørtes et brøl inne i jorden, skogene på åskammene rystet, og hundehyl varslet guddommenes komme. «Nå,» sa sibyllen, «saml ditt mot, for du skal trenge det.»

Hun steg ned i Avernus' hule, og Æneas fulgte etter. Før de nådde helvetes terskel, passerte de en gruppe vesener som regnes opp som Sorger og hevnende Bekymringer, bleke Sykdommer og melankolsk Alder, Frykt og Sult som frister til forbrytelse, Slit, Fattigdom og Død – skikkelser som var fryktelige å se. Furiene bredte ut sine leier der, og Splid, hvis hår var av hoggormer bundet opp med et blodig pannebånd. Her var også monstrene: Briareos med sine hundre armer, hvesende hydraer og ildsprutende Kimairer. Æneas grøsset ved synet, trakk sverdet og ville ha slått, men sibyllen holdt ham tilbake. Så kom de til den svarte elven Kokytos, der de fant fergemannen Kharon, gammel og ussel, men sterk og kraftfull, som tok imot passasjerer av alle slag i båten sin – modige helter, gutter og ugifte jenter – like tallrike som bladene som faller om høsten eller fugleskarene som flyr sørover når vinteren nærmer seg.

De sto og presset på for å få overfart og lengtet etter å berøre den motsatte bredden. Men den strenge fergemannen tok bare inn dem han selv valgte, og jaget resten tilbake. Æneas, som undret seg ved synet, spurte sibyllen: «Hvorfor denne forskjellsbehandlingen?» Hun svarte: «De som tas om bord i farkosten, er sjelene til dem som har fått behørige begravelsesriter; mengden av andre som har forblitt ubegravde, får ikke passere flommen, men flakker omkring i hundre år og flyr frem og tilbake langs bredden, inntil de til slutt blir tatt over.» Æneas sørget da han kom på noen av sine egne følgesvenner som hadde omkommet i stormen. I samme øyeblikk fikk han se Palinurus, styrmannen sin, som falt over bord og druknet. Han tiltalte ham og spurte om årsaken til ulykken. Palinurus svarte at roret ble revet bort, og han, som klynget seg til det, ble feid med.

Han bønnfalt Æneas innstendig om å rekke ham hånden og ta ham med over til den motsatte bredden. Sibyllen refset ham for ønsket om slik å bryte Plutons lover, men trøstet ham ved å fortelle ham at folket på kysten der kroppen hans var blitt drevet i land av bølgene, skulle vekkes av jærtegn til å gi den en skikkelig begravelse, og at neset skulle bære navnet Kapp Palinurus – og slik heter det den dag i dag. Etter å ha forlatt Palinurus trøstet av disse ordene, nærmet de seg båten. Kharon festet blikket strengt på den fremrykkende krigeren og forlangte å vite med hvilken rett han, levende og væpnet, nærmet seg denne bredden. Til dette svarte sibyllen at de ikke ville øve noen vold, at Æneas' eneste ærend var å se sin far, og til slutt viste hun den gylne grenen, ved synet av hvilken Kharons vrede la seg, og han skyndte seg å vende farkosten mot land og ta dem om bord.

Båten, som bare var tilpasset den lette lasten av kroppsløse ånder, knirket under heltens vekt. Snart ble de fergen over til den motsatte bredden. Der møtte de den trehodete hunden Kerberos, med nakker strittende av slanger. Han bjeffet med alle tre struper inntil sibyllen kastet ham en medisinert kake, som han ivrig slukte, og deretter strakte han seg ut i hiet sitt og sovnet. Æneas og sibyllen sprang i land. Den første lyden som slo deres ører, var klagen fra små barn som var døde på livets terskel; og nær disse var de som var omkommet under falske anklager. Minos leder dommen over dem og gransker hver enkelts gjerninger. Den neste klassen var de som hadde tatt sitt eget liv, avsky for livet og søkte tilflukt i døden. Hvor gjerne ville de ikke nå ha tålt fattigdom, slit og enhver annen plage om de bare kunne vende tilbake til livet! Deretter lå sorgens regioner, inndelt i avsidesliggende stier som førte gjennom myrtelunder.

Her vandret de som var blitt ofre for ubesvart kjærlighet, ikke befridd for smerte selv ved døden. Blant disse mente Æneas å skimte Didos skikkelse, med et sår som ennå var ferskt. I det svake lyset var han et øyeblikk usikker, men da han nærmet seg, så han at det virkelig var hun. Tårer falt fra øynene hans, og han tiltalte henne med kjærlige ord. var ryktene sanne om at du hadde gått til grunne? årsaken? Jeg kaller gudene til vitne på at min avreise fra deg var motvillig og i lydighet mot Jupiters bud; heller ikke kunne jeg tro at mitt fravær ville koste deg så dyrt. Stopp, jeg bønnfaller deg, og nekt meg ikke et siste farvel.» Hun stod et øyeblikk med vendt ansikt og blikket festet på bakken, og gikk så lydløst forbi, like ufølsom for hans bønner som en klippe. Æneas fulgte etter et stykke, deretter med tungt hjerte sluttet seg til sin ledsagerske igjen og fortsatte sin ferd.

De gikk deretter inn på markene der heltene som har falt i kamp, vandrer. Her så de mange skygger av greske og trojanske krigere. Trojanerne stimlet rundt ham og kunne ikke mettes på synet. De spurte om årsaken til hans komme og overøste ham med utallige spørsmål. Men grekerne, som ved synet av rustningen hans som glitret i den mørke atmosfæren, gjenkjente helten, og fylt av skrekk snudde de ryggen til og flyktet, slik de pleide å gjøre på Trojas sletter.

Æneas ville ha dvelt lenge hos sine trojanske venner, men sibyllen skyndte ham av sted. De kom deretter til et sted der veien delte seg, den ene veien førte til Elysium, den andre til de fordømtes regioner. På den ene siden så Æneas murene til en mektig by, rundt hvilken Flegeton rullet sine flammende vann. Foran ham var porten av diamant som hverken guder eller mennesker kan bryte gjennom. Ved porten stod et jerntårn, der Tisifone, den hevnende furien, holdt vakt. Fra byen hørtes stønn, og lyden av svepeslag, knirkende jern og raslende lenker. Æneas, forferdet, spurte sin fører hvilke forbrytelser det var hvis straffer frembrakte lydene han hørte. Sibyllen svarte: «Her er Radamantys' domshall, som bringer forbrytelser begått i livet for dagen, som gjerningsmannen forgjeves trodde var ugjennomtrengelig skjult. Tisifone anvender sin skorpionsvepe og overgir forbryteren til sine søsterfurier.»

I dette øyeblikket, med en fryktelig klang, åpnet bronseportene seg, og innenfor så Æneas en Hydra med femti hoder som voktet inngangen. Sibyllen fortalte ham at Tartaros' avgrunn gikk dypt ned, slik at dets dyp var like langt under føttene deres som himmelen var høy over hodene deres. I bunnen av denne svelget ligger titanene, som kriget mot gudene, slått til jorden; likeså Salmoneus, som formastet seg til å måle krefter med Jupiter og bygde en bro av kobber som han kjørte vognen sin over for at lyden skulle ligne torden, mens han slynget flammende fakler mot folket sitt som en etterligning av lyn, inntil Jupiter slo ham med en ekte tordenkile og lærte ham forskjellen på dødelige våpen og guddommelige. Her er også Tityos, kjempen, hvis skikkelse er så enorm at han, liggende, strekker seg over ni mål, mens en gribb eter av leveren hans, som i takt med at den blir spist, vokser ut igjen, slik at hans straff aldri tar slutt.

Æneas så grupper sitte ved bord fylt med lekre retter, mens en furie stod like ved og snappet maten fra leppene deres så fort de gjorde seg klare til å smake på den. Andre så store steiner henge over hodene sine, truende til å falle, og holdt dem i en tilstand av konstant alarm. Disse var de som hadde hatet sine brødre, eller slått sine foreldre, eller bedratt venner som stolte på dem, eller som, etter å ha blitt rike, holdt pengene sine for seg selv og ikke gav noen del til andre – den sistnevnte gruppen var den mest tallrike. Her var også de som hadde brutt ekteskapsløftet, eller kjempet i en dårlig sak, eller sviktet i troskap mot sine arbeidsgivere. Her var en som hadde solgt landet sitt for gull, en annen som hadde forvrengt lovene, fått dem til å si én ting i dag og en annen i morgen.

Ixion var der, bundet til omkretsen av et hjul som ustanselig snurret; og Sisyfos, hvis oppgave var å rulle en stor stein opp til en bakketopp; men da stigningen var nesten nådd, for steinen, drevet av en plutselig kraft, ned igjen i full fart til sletten. Igjen slet han med den, mens svetten badet alle hans trette lemmer, men alt til ingen nytte. Der var Tantalos, som stod i en dam med haken på nivå med vannet, likevel var han fortørket av tørst og fant ingenting å stille den med; for når han bøyde det grånede hodet, ivrig etter å drikke, vek vannet unna, og lot bakken ved føttene hans være helt tørr. Høye trær, bugnende av frukt, bøyde hodene sine ned mot ham – pærer, granatepler, epler og deilige fikener; men når han med et brått grep prøvde å fange dem, virvlet vindene dem høyt over hans rekkevidde.

=256. = Sibyllen advarte nå Æneas om at det var på tide å vende seg bort fra disse melankolske regionene og oppsøke de saliges by. De passerte gjennom et midtre belte av mørke og kom til de Elysiske marker, lundene der de lykkelige bor. De åndet en friere luft og så alle ting kledd i et purpuraktig lys. Regionen hadde sin egen sol og stjerner. Beboerne hygget seg på forskjellige måter, noen i leker på den gresskledde torven, i styrke- eller ferdighetsleker, andre danset eller sang. Orfevs slo strengene på sin lyre og lokket frem henrivende toner. Her så Æneas grunnleggerne av den trojanske staten, storhjertede helter som levde i lykkeligere tider. Han stirret med beundring på krigsvognene og de glitrende våpnene som nå hvilte ubrukte. Spyd stod fast i bakken, og hestene, uspente, streifet om på sletten. Den samme stoltheten over prektige rustninger og edle hester som de gamle heltene følte i livet, fulgte dem her.

Han så en annen gruppe som festet og lyttet til musikkens toner. De var i en laurbærlund, der den store elven Po har sitt utspring og flyter ut blant mennesker. Her bodde de som falt av sår de fikk i fedrelandets kamp, likeså hellige prester, og diktere som har uttrykt tanker verdige Apollon, og andre som har bidratt til å glede og pryde livet ved sine oppdagelser i de nyttige kunstene, og har gjort sitt minne velsignet ved å yte tjenester til menneskeheten. De bar snøhvite pannebånd om pannen. Sibyllen tiltalte en gruppe av disse og spurte hvor Anchises var å finne. De fikk anvist hvor de kunne søke ham, og fant ham snart i en grønn dal, der han betraktet rekkene av sine etterkommere, deres skjebner og verdige bedrifter som skulle utføres i kommende tider. Da han gjenkjente Æneas som nærmet seg, rakte han begge hendene mot ham, mens tårene rant fritt.

«Kommer du omsider,» sa han, «lenge ventet, og får jeg se deg etter så store farer overstått? O, min sønn, hvordan har jeg ikke skjelvet for deg, mens jeg har fulgt din kurs!» ditt bilde var alltid foran meg for å lede og verne meg.» Deretter prøvde han å omfavne sin far, men armene hans omsluttet bare en ulegemlig skygge.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

=257. = Æneas perceived before him a spacious valley, with trees gently waving to the wind, a tranquil landscape, through which the river Lethe flowed. Along the banks of the stream wandered a countless multitude, numerous as insects in the summer air. Æneas, with surprise, inquired who were these. Anchises answered: "They are souls to which bodies are to be given in due time. Meanwhile they dwell on Lethe's bank and drink oblivion of their former lives." " said Æneas, "is it possible that any can be so in love with life as to wish to leave these tranquil seats for the upper world?" Anchises replied by explaining the plan of creation. The Creator, he told him, originally made the material of which souls are composed, of the four elements, fire, air, earth, and water, all which when united took the form of the most excellent part, fire, and became flame.

This material was scattered like seed among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and stars. Of this seed the inferior gods created man and all other animals, mingling it with various proportions of earth, by which its purity was alloyed and reduced. Thus the more earth predominates in the composition, the less pure is the individual; and we see that men and women with their full-grown bodies have not the purity of childhood. So in proportion to the time which the union of body and soul has lasted, is the impurity contracted by the spiritual part. This impurity must be purged away after death, which is done by ventilating the souls in the current of winds, or merging them in water, or burning out their impurities by fire. Some few, of whom Anchises intimates that he is one, are admitted at once to Elysium, there to remain.

But the rest, after the impurities of earth are purged away, are sent back to life endowed with new bodies, having had the remembrance of their former lives effectually washed away by the waters of Lethe. Some souls, however, there still are, so thoroughly corrupted that they are not fit to be intrusted with human bodies, and these pass by metempsychosis into the bodies of brute animals.

Anchises, having explained so much, proceeded to point out to Æneas individuals of his race who were hereafter to be born, and to relate to him the exploits they should perform in the world. After this he reverted to the present, and told his son of the events that remained to him to be accomplished before the complete establishment of himself and his followers in Italy. Wars were to be waged, battles fought, a bride to be won, and, in the result, a Trojan state founded, from which should rise the Roman power, to be in time the sovereign of the world.

As Æneas and the Sibyl pursued their way back to earth, he said to her: "Whether thou be a goddess or a mortal beloved by the gods, by me thou shalt always be held in reverence. When I reach the upper air, I will cause a temple to be built to thy honor, and will myself bring offerings." "I am no goddess," said the Sibyl; "I have no claims to sacrifice or offering. I am mortal, yet, could I but have accepted the love of Apollo, I might have been immortal. He promised me the fulfillment of my wish, if I would consent to be his. I took a handful of sand and, holding it forth, said, 'Grant me to see as many birthdays as there are sand-grains in my hand.' Unluckily I forgot to ask for enduring youth. This also he would have granted could I have accepted his love, but, offended at my refusal, he allowed me to grow old. My youth and youthful strength fled long ago.

I have lived seven hundred years, and to equal the number of the sand-grains I have still to see three hundred springs and three hundred harvests. My body shrinks up as years increase, and in time I shall be lost to sight, but my voice will remain, and future ages will respect my sayings."

These concluding words of the Sibyl alluded to her prophetic power. In her cave she was accustomed to inscribe on leaves gathered from the trees the names and fates of individuals. The leaves thus inscribed were arranged in order within the cave, and might be consulted by her votaries. But if, perchance, at the opening of the door the wind rushed in and dispersed the leaves, the Sibyl gave no aid to restoring them again, and the oracle was irreparably lost.

FOOTNOTES:

[354] From Tennyson's To Virgil.

[355] For Virgil, see § 299; for translations of his Æneid, see corresponding section in Commentary.

[356] Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum.--Æneid, 3, 658.

[357] Tantaene animis coelestibus irae?--Æneid, 1, 11.

[358] Haud ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco.--Æneid, 1, 630.

[359] Tros Tyriusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur.--Æneid, 1, 574.

Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito.--Æneid, 6, 95.

Facilis descensus Averno; Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis; Sed revocare gradum, superasque evadere ad auras, Hoc opus, hic labor est.--Æneid, 6, 126-129.

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=258. The Fulfillment of Prophecy.= Æneas, having parted from the Sibyl and rejoined his fleet, coasted along the shores of Italy and cast anchor in the mouth of the Tiber. The poet, having brought his hero to this spot, the destined termination of his wanderings, invokes his Muse to tell him the situation of things at that eventful moment. Latinus, third in descent from Saturn, ruled the country. He was now old and had no male descendant, but had one charming daughter, Lavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighboring chiefs, one of whom, Turnus, king of the Rutulians, was favored by the wishes of her parents. But Latinus had been warned in a dream by his father, Faunus, that the destined husband of Lavinia should come from a foreign land. From that union should spring a race destined to subdue the world.

Our readers will remember that in the conflict with the harpies, one of those half-human birds had threatened the Trojans with dire sufferings. In particular, she predicted that before their wanderings ceased they should be pressed by hunger to devour their tables. This portent now came true; for as they took their scanty meal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard biscuit on their laps and put thereon whatever their gleanings in the woods supplied. Having dispatched the latter, they finished by eating the crusts. we are eating our tables." Æneas caught the words and accepted the omen. " he exclaimed, "this is our home, this our country!" He then took measures to find out who were the present inhabitants of the land and who their rulers. A hundred chosen men were sent to the village of Latinus, bearing presents and a request for friendship and alliance. They went and were favorably received.

Latinus immediately concluded that the Trojan hero was no other than the promised son-in-law announced by the oracle. He cheerfully granted his alliance, and sent back the messengers mounted on steeds from his stables and loaded with gifts and friendly messages.

Juno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the Trojans, felt her old animosity revive, summoned Alecto from Erebus, and sent her to stir up discord. The Fury first took possession of the queen, Amata, and roused her to oppose in every way the new alliance. Alecto then sped to the city of Turnus and, assuming the form of an old priestess, informed him of the arrival of the foreigners and of the attempts of their prince to rob him of his betrothed. Next she turned her attention to the camp of the Trojans. There she saw the boy Iulus and his companions amusing themselves with hunting. She sharpened the scent of the dogs and led them to rouse up from the thicket a tame stag, the favorite of Silvia, the daughter of Tyrrheus, the king's herdsman. A javelin from the hand of Iulus wounded the animal, which had only strength left to run homeward and die at its mistress's feet.

Her cries and tears roused her brothers and the herdsmen, and they, seizing whatever weapons came to hand, furiously assaulted the hunting party. These were protected by their friends, and the herdsmen were finally driven back with the loss of two of their number.

These things were enough to rouse the storm of war, and the queen, Turnus, and the peasants all urged the old king to drive the strangers from the country. He resisted as long as he could, but, finding his opposition unavailing, finally gave way and retreated to his retirement.

=259. The Gates of Janus Opened.= It was the custom of the country, when war was to be undertaken, for the chief magistrate, clad in his robes of office, with solemn pomp to open the gates of the temple of Janus, which were kept shut as long as peace endured. His people now urged the old king to perform that solemn office, but he refused to do so. While they contested, Juno herself, descending from the skies, smote the doors with irresistible force and burst them open. Immediately the whole country was in a flame. The people rushed from every side, breathing nothing but war.

Turnus was recognized by all as leader; others joined as allies, chief of whom was Mezentius, a brave and able soldier, but of detestable cruelty. He had been the chief of one of the neighboring cities, but his people drove him out. With him was joined his son Lausus, a generous youth worthy of a better sire.

=260. = Camilla, the favorite of Diana, a huntress and warrior after the fashion of the Amazons, came with her band of mounted followers, including a select number of her own sex, and ranged herself on the side of Turnus. This maiden had never accustomed her fingers to the distaff or the loom, but had learned to endure the toils of war and in speed to outstrip the wind. It seemed as if she might run over the standing corn without crushing it, or over the surface of the water without dipping her feet. Camilla's history had been singular from the beginning. Her father, Metabus, driven from his city by civil discord, carried with him in his flight his infant daughter. As he fled through the woods, his enemies in hot pursuit, he reached the bank of the river Amasenus, which, swelled by rains, seemed to debar a passage. He paused for a moment, then decided what to do.

He tied the infant to his lance with wrappers of bark, and poising the weapon in his upraised hand, thus addressed Diana: "Goddess of the woods! I consecrate this maid to thee"; then hurled the weapon with its burden to the opposite bank. The spear flew across the roaring water. His pursuers were already on him, but he plunged into the river, and swam across, and found the spear with the infant safe on the other side. Thenceforth he lived among the shepherds and brought up his daughter in woodland arts. While a child she was taught to use the bow and throw the javelin. With her sling she could bring down the crane or the wild swan. Her dress was a tiger's skin. Many mothers sought her for a daughter-in-law, but she continued faithful to Diana and repelled the thought of marriage.

=261. = Such were the formidable allies that ranged themselves against Æneas. It was night, and he lay stretched in sleep on the bank of the river under the open heavens. The god of the stream, Father Tiber, seemed to raise his head above the willows and to say: "O goddess-born, destined possessor of the Latin realms, this is the promised land; here is to be thy home, here shall terminate the hostility of the heavenly powers, if only thou faithfully persevere. There are friends not far distant. Prepare thy boats and row up my stream; I will lead thee to Evander, the Arcadian chief. He has long been at strife with Turnus and the Rutulians, and is prepared to become an ally of thine. offer thy vows to Juno and deprecate her anger. When thou hast achieved thy victory, then think of me." Æneas woke and paid immediate obedience to the friendly vision.

He sacrificed to Juno, and invoked the god of the river and all his tributary fountains to lend their aid. Then for the first time a vessel filled with armed warriors floated on the stream of the Tiber. The river smoothed its waves and bade its current flow gently, while, impelled by the vigorous strokes of the rowers, the vessel shot rapidly up the stream.

About the middle of the day they came in sight of the scattered buildings of the infant town where in after times the proud city of Rome grew, whose glory reached the skies. By chance the old king, Evander, was that day celebrating annual solemnities in honor of Hercules and all the gods. Pallas, his son, and all the chiefs of the little commonwealth stood by. When they saw the tall ship gliding onward through the wood, they were alarmed at the sight and rose from the tables. But Pallas forbade the solemnities to be interrupted and, seizing a weapon, stepped forward to the river's bank. He called aloud, demanding who the strangers were and what their object. Æneas, holding forth an olive branch, replied: "We are Trojans, friends to you and enemies to the Rutulians. We seek Evander and offer to join our arms with yours."

Pallas, in amaze at the sound of so great a name, invited them to land, and when Æneas touched the shore, he seized his hand and held it long in friendly grasp. Proceeding through the wood they joined the king and his party, and were most favorably received. Seats were provided for them at the tables, and the repast proceeded.

=262. = When the solemnities were ended, all moved towards the city. The king, bending with age, walked between his son and Æneas, taking the arm of one or the other of them, and with much variety of pleasing talk shortening the way. Æneas with delight looked and listened, observing all the beauties of the scene and learning much of heroes renowned in ancient times. Evander said: "These extensive groves were once inhabited by fauns and nymphs, and a rude race of men who sprang from the trees themselves and had neither laws nor social culture. They knew not how to yoke the cattle, nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present abundance for future want, but browsed like beasts on the leafy boughs or fed voraciously on their hunted prey. Such were they when Saturn, expelled from Olympus by his sons, came among them and drew together the fierce savages, formed them into society, and gave them laws.

Such peace and plenty ensued that men ever since have called his reign the Golden Age; but by degrees far other times succeeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of blood prevailed. The land was a prey to successive tyrants till fortune and resistless destiny brought me hither, an exile from my native land, Arcadia."

Having thus said, he showed him the Tarpeian rock, and the rude spot, then overgrown with bushes, where in after times the Capitol was to rise in all its magnificence. He next pointed to some dismantled walls and said, "Here stood Janiculum, built by Janus, and there Saturnia, the town of Saturn." Such discourse brought them to the cottage of Evander, whence they saw the lowing herds roaming over the plain where soon should stand the proud and stately Forum. They entered, and a couch, well stuffed with leaves and covered with the skin of a Libyan bear, was spread for Æneas.

Next morning, awakened by the dawn and the shrill song of birds beneath the eaves of his low mansion, old Evander rose. Clad in a tunic, and a panther's skin thrown over his shoulders, with sandals on his feet and his good sword girded to his side, he went forth to seek his guest. Two mastiffs followed him,--his whole retinue and bodyguard. He found the hero attended by his faithful Achates, and Pallas soon joining them, the old king spoke thus:

"Illustrious Trojan, it is but little we can do in so great a cause. Our state is feeble, hemmed in on one side by the river, on the other by the Rutulians. But I propose to ally thee with a people numerous and rich, to whom fate has brought thee at the propitious moment. The Etruscans hold the country beyond the river. Mezentius was their king, a monster of cruelty, who invented unheard-of torments to gratify his vengeance. He would fasten the dead to the living, hand to hand and face to face, and leave the wretched victims to die in that dreadful embrace. At length people cast him out, him and his house. They burned his palace, and slew his friends. He escaped and took refuge with Turnus, who protects him with arms.

The Etruscans demand that he shall be given up to deserved punishment, and would ere now have attempted to enforce their demand; but their priests restrain them, telling them that it is the will of heaven that no native of the land shall guide them to victory and that their destined leader must come from across the sea. They have offered the crown to me, but I am too old to undertake such great affairs, and my son is native-born, which precludes him from the choice. Thou, equally by birth and time of life and fame in arms pointed out by the gods, hast but to appear to be hailed at once as their leader. With thee I will join Pallas, my son, my only hope and comfort. Under thee he shall learn the art of war and strive to emulate thy great exploits."

Then the king ordered horses to be furnished for the Trojan chiefs, and Æneas, with a chosen band of followers and Pallas accompanying, mounted and took the way to the Etruscan city,[362] having sent back the rest of his party in the ships. Æneas and his band safely arrived at the Etruscan camp and were received with open arms by Tarchon and his countrymen.

=263. Turnus attacks the Trojan Camp.= In the meanwhile Turnus had collected his bands and made all necessary preparations for the war. Juno sent Iris to him with a message inciting him to take advantage of the absence of Æneas and surprise the Trojan camp. Accordingly the attempt was made; but the Trojans were found on their guard, and having received strict orders from Æneas not to fight in his absence, they lay still in their intrenchments and resisted all the efforts of the Rutulians to draw them into the field. Night coming on, the army of Turnus, in high spirits at their fancied superiority, feasted and enjoyed themselves, and finally stretched themselves on the field and slept secure.

=264. Nisus and Euryalus.= In the camp of the Trojans things were far otherwise. There all was watchfulness and anxiety, and impatience for Æneas' return. Nisus stood guard at the entrance of the camp, and Euryalus, a youth distinguished above all in the army for graces of person and fine qualities, was with him. These two were friends and brothers in arms. Nisus said to his friend: "Dost thou perceive what confidence and carelessness the enemy display? Their lights are few and dim, and the men seem all oppressed with wine or sleep. Thou knowest how anxiously our chiefs wish to send to Æneas and to get intelligence from him. Now I am strongly moved to make my way through the enemy's camp and to go in search of our chief. If I succeed, the glory of the deed will be reward enough for me, and if they judge the service deserves anything more, let them pay it thee."

Euryalus, all on fire with the love of adventure, replied: "Wouldst thou then, Nisus, refuse to share thy enterprise with me? And shall I let thee go into such danger alone? Not so my brave father brought me up, nor so have I planned for myself when I joined the standard of Æneas and resolved to hold my life cheap in comparison with honor." Nisus replied: "I doubt it not, my friend; but thou knowest the uncertain event of such an undertaking, and whatever may happen to me, I wish thee to be safe. Thou art younger than I and hast more of life in prospect. Nor can I be the cause of such grief to thy mother, who has chosen to be here in the camp with thee rather than stay and live in peace with the other matrons in Acestes' city." Euryalus replied, "Say no more. In vain dost thou seek arguments to dissuade me. I am fixed in the resolution to go with thee. Let us lose no time."

They called the guard and, committing the watch to them, sought the general's tent. They found the chief officers in consultation, deliberating how they should send notice to Æneas of their situation. The offer of the two friends was gladly accepted, themselves loaded with praises and promised the most liberal rewards in case of success. Iulus especially addressed Euryalus, assuring him of his lasting friendship. Euryalus replied: "I have but one boon to ask. My aged mother is with me in the camp. For me she left the Trojan soil and would not stay behind with the other matrons at the city of Acestes. I go now without taking leave of her. I could not bear her tears nor set at naught her entreaties. But do thou, I beseech thee, comfort her in her distress. Promise me that and I shall go more boldly into whatever dangers may present themselves." Iulus and the other chiefs were moved to tears and promised to do all his request.

"Thy mother shall be mine," said Iulus, "and all that I have promised thee shall be made good to her, if thou dost not return to receive it."

The two friends left the camp and plunged at once into the midst of the enemy. They found no watch, no sentinels posted, but, all about, the sleeping soldiers strewn on the grass and among the wagons. The laws of war at that early day did not forbid a brave man to slay a sleeping foe, and the two Trojans slew, as they passed, such of the enemy as they could without exciting alarm. In one tent Euryalus made prize of a helmet brilliant with gold and plumes. They had passed through the enemy's ranks without being discovered, but now suddenly appeared a troop directly in front of them, which, under Volscens, their leader, were approaching the camp. The glittering helmet of Euryalus caught their attention, and Volscens hailed the two and demanded who and whence they were. They made no answer, but plunged into the wood. The horsemen scattered in all directions to intercept their flight.

Nisus had eluded pursuit and was out of danger, but, since Euryalus was missing, he turned back to seek him. He again entered the wood and soon came within sound of voices. Looking through the thicket he saw the whole band surrounding Euryalus with noisy questions. What should he do; how extricate the youth; or would it be better to die with him?

" and, aiming his javelin at one of the leaders of the troop, struck him in the back and stretched him on the plain with a deathblow. In the midst of their amazement another weapon flew, and another of the party fell dead. Volscens, the leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in hand on Euryalus. 't was I! Turn your swords against me, Rutulians. I did it; he only followed me as a friend." While he spoke the sword fell and pierced the comely bosom of Euryalus. His head fell over on his shoulder, like a flower cut down by the plow. Nisus rushed on Volscens and plunged his sword into his body, and was himself slain on the instant by numberless blows.

=265. = Æneas, with his Etrurian allies, arrived on the scene of action in time to rescue his beleaguered camp; and now the two armies being nearly equal in strength, the war began in good earnest. We cannot find space for all the details, but must simply record the fate of the principal characters. The tyrant Mezentius, finding himself engaged against his revolted subjects, raged like a wild beast. He slew all who dared withstand him, and put the multitude to flight wherever he appeared. At last he encountered Æneas, and the armies stood still to see the issue. Mezentius threw his spear, which, striking Æneas' shield, glanced off and hit Antores,--a Grecian by birth who had left Argos, his native city, and followed Evander into Italy. "[363] Æneas now in turn hurled his lance. It pierced the shield of Mezentius and wounded him in the thigh.

Lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but rushed forward and interposed himself, while the followers pressed round Mezentius and bore him away. Æneas held his sword suspended over Lausus and delayed to strike, but the furious youth pressed on, and he was compelled to deal the fatal blow. Lausus fell, and Æneas bent over him in pity. "Hapless youth," he said, "what can I do for thee worthy of thy praise? Keep those arms in which thou gloriest, and fear not but that thy body shall be restored to thy friends and have due funeral honors." So saying, he called the timid followers and delivered the body into their hands.

Mezentius meanwhile had been borne to the riverside, and had washed his wound. Soon the news reached him of Lausus' death, and rage and despair supplied the place of strength. He mounted his horse and dashed into the thickest of the fight, seeking Æneas. Having found him, he rode round him in a circle, throwing one javelin after another, while Æneas stood fenced with his shield, turning every way to meet them. At last after Mezentius had three times made the circuit, Æneas threw his lance directly at the horse's head. The animal fell with pierced temples, while a shout from both armies rent the skies. Mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might be spared the insults of his revolted subjects and be buried in the same grave with his son. He received the fatal stroke not unprepared, and poured out his life and his blood together.

=266. The Deaths of Pallas and Camilla.= While these things were doing in one part of the field, in another Turnus encountered the youthful Pallas. The contest between champions so unequally matched could not be doubtful. Pallas bore himself bravely, but fell by the lance of Turnus. The victor almost relented when he saw the brave youth lying dead at his feet, and spared to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoiling him of his arms. The belt only, adorned with studs and carvings of gold, he took and clasped round his own body. The rest he remitted to the friends of the slain.

After the battle there was a cessation of arms for some days to allow both armies to bury their dead. In this interval Æneas challenged Turnus to decide the contest by single combat, but Turnus evaded the challenge. Another battle ensued, in which Camilla, the virgin warrior, was chiefly conspicuous. Her deeds of valor surpassed those of the bravest warriors, and many Trojans and Etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down by her battle-ax. At last an Etruscan named Aruns, who had watched her long, seeking for some advantage, observed her pursuing an enemy whose splendid armor offered a tempting prize. Intent on the chase she observed not her danger, and the javelin of Aruns struck her and inflicted a fatal wound. She fell and breathed her last in the arms of her attendant maidens. But Diana, who beheld her fate, suffered not her slaughter to be unavenged.

Aruns, as he stole away glad but frightened, was struck by a secret arrow, launched by one of the nymphs of Diana's train, and he died ignobly and unknown.

=267. = At length the final conflict took place between Æneas and Turnus. Turnus had avoided the contest as long as he could; but at last, impelled by the ill success of his arms and by the murmurs of his followers, he braced himself to the conflict. The outcome could not be doubtful. On the side of Æneas were the expressed decree of destiny, the aid of his goddess-mother in every emergency, and impenetrable armor fabricated by Vulcan, at her request, for her son. Turnus, on the other hand, was deserted by his celestial allies, Juno having been expressly forbidden by Jupiter to assist him any longer. Turnus threw his lance, but it recoiled harmless from the shield of Æneas. The Trojan hero then threw his, which, penetrating the shield of Turnus, pierced his thigh.

Then Turnus' fortitude forsook him, and he begged for mercy; Æneas, indeed, would have spared his opponent's life, but at the instant his eye fell on the belt of Pallas, which Turnus had taken from the slaughtered youth. Instantly his rage revived, and exclaiming, "Pallas immolates thee with this blow," he thrust him through with his sword.

Here the poem of the Æneid closes, and we are left to infer that Æneas, having triumphed over his foes, obtained Lavinia for his bride. Tradition adds that he founded a city and called it Lavinium, after her name. His son Iulus founded Alba Longa, which became the birthplace of Romulus and Remus and the cradle of Rome.

FOOTNOTES:

[362] The poet here inserts a famous line which is thought to imitate in its sound the galloping of horses: Quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum.--Æneid, 8, 596.

Sternitur infelix alieno volnere, caelumque Aspicit, et dulcis moriens reminiscitur Argos.--Æneid 10, 781.

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=268. The Creation.= According to the Eddas there was once no heaven above nor earth beneath, but only a bottomless deep, Ginungagap, and a world of mist, Niflheim, in which sprang a fountain. Twelve rivers issued from this fountain, Vergelmir, and when they had flowed far from their source, they froze into ice, and one layer accumulating over another, the great deep was filled up.

Southward from the world of mist was the world of light, Muspelheim. From this proceeded a warm wind on the ice and melted it. The vapors rose in the air and formed clouds, from which sprang Ymir, the rime-cold giant and his progeny, and the cow Audhumbla, whose milk afforded nourishment and food to the giant. The cow got nourishment by licking the hoar frost and salt from the ice. While she was one day licking the salt stones there appeared at first the hair of some being, on the second day his whole head, and on the third the entire form endowed with beauty, agility, and power. This new being was a god, Bori, from whom and his wife, a daughter of the giant race, sprang Bor, the father of Odin, Vili, and Ve. These three slew the giant Ymir, and out of his body formed the earth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the mountains, of his hair the trees, of his skull the heavens, and of his brain clouds, charged with hail and snow.

Of Ymir's eyebrows the gods built a fence around the Midgard or mid-earth between Niflheim and Muspelheim, destined to become the abode of man.

Odin then regulated the periods of day and night and the seasons by placing in the heavens the sun and moon, and appointing to them their respective courses. As soon as the sun began to shed its rays on the earth, it caused the vegetable world to bud and sprout. Shortly after the gods (the Anse-race, Anses, Æsir, or Asa-folk) had created the world, they walked by the side of the sea, pleased with their new work, but found that it was still incomplete, for it was without human beings. They therefore took an ashen spar and made a man out of it; woman they made out of a piece of elm; and they called the man Ask and the woman Embla. Odin then gave them life and soul, Vili reason and motion, and Ve bestowed on them the senses, expressive features, and speech. Midgard was given them as their residence, and they became the progenitors of the human race.

=269. = The mighty ash tree, Yggdrasil, was supposed to support the whole universe. It sprang from the body of Ymir, and had three immense roots, extending one into Midgard (the dwelling of mortals), another into Jötunheim (the abode of the giants), and the third below Niflheim, into the region of Death. By the side of each of these roots is a spring, from which it is watered. The root that extends into Midgard is carefully tended by the three Norns,--goddesses who are regarded as the dispensers of fate. They are Urd (the past), Verdandi (the present), Skuld (the future). The spring at the Jötunheim side is Mimir's well, in which wisdom and wit lie hidden, but that below Niflheim refreshes also the dark dragon of despair, Nidhogg (the back-biter), which perpetually gnaws at the root. Four harts run across the branches of the tree and nip the buds; they represent the four winds.

Under the tree lies Ymir, and when he tries to shake off its weight the earth quakes. The boughs overshadow the earth, and the top rises into Asgard in the zenith.

=270. = To Asgard, the abode of the gods, access is gained only by crossing the bridge, Bifrost (the rainbow). Asgard--Gladsheim for the gods, Vingolf for the goddesses--consists of golden and silver palaces; but the most beautiful of these is Valhalla, the great hall of Odin. When seated on his throne he overlooks heaven and earth. Beside him sits Frigga (or Fricka), his wife, who knows all things. On his shoulders are the ravens, Hugin and Munin,--Thought and Memory,--who fly every day over the whole world, and on their return report to him what they have seen and heard. At his feet lie his two wolves, Geri and Freki, to whom Odin gives the meat that is set before him, for he himself stands in no need of food. Mead is for him both food and drink. He invented the Runic characters; the decrees of fate, inscribed therein, it is the business of the Norns to engrave on a metal shield.

From Odin's name, spelt Woden, as it sometimes is, comes our English word, Wednesday.

From the painting by Dielitz]

Odin is frequently called Alfadur (Allfather), but this name is sometimes used in a way that shows that the Scandinavians had an idea of a deity superior to Odin, uncreated and eternal. In Valhalla Odin feasts with his chosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely in battle, for all who die a peaceful death are excluded. The flesh of the boar Serimnir is served up to them and is abundant for all. For although this boar is cooked every morning, he becomes whole again every night. For drink the heroes are supplied abundantly with mead from the she-goat Heidrun. When the heroes are not feasting, they amuse themselves with fighting. Every day they ride out into the court or field and fight until they cut each other in pieces. This is their pastime; but when mealtime comes, they recover from their wounds and return to feast in Valhalla.

=271. The Valkyries.= The Valkyries are warlike virgins, mounted on horses and armed with helmets, shields, and spears. Odin is desirous of gathering many heroes in Valhalla that he may gloriously meet the giants in the day of the final contest; he therefore sends to every battle field for the bravest of those who shall be slain. The Valkyries, Choosers of the Slain, are his messengers. Later they are called his daughters. When they ride forth on their errand, their armor sheds a weird flickering light over the northern skies, making what men call the Aurora Borealis.[365]

=272. Thor and the Other Gods.= Of the following, Thor, Vidar, Bragi, Balder, and Höder are sons of Odin. Thor, the thunderer, Odin's eldest son, is the strongest of gods and men, and possesses three precious things. The first is a hammer, which both the Frost and the Mountain giants (Hrim-thursar and Berg-risar) know to their cost, when they see it hurled against them in the air, for it has split many a skull of their fathers and kindred. When thrown, it returns to his hand of its own accord. The second rare thing he possesses is the belt of strength. When he girds it about him his divine might is doubled. The third is his iron gloves, which he puts on whenever he would use his mallet efficiently. From Thor's name is derived our word Thursday.

Vidar comes next in strength to Thor.

Bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds of warriors. His wife, Iduna, keeps in a box the apples which the gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of to become young again.

Balder, dearest of the Anses, is the god of sunlight, spring, and gladness. Höder, his opposite, is the blind god of winter.

Of other gods, Freyr presides over rain and sunshine and all the fruits of the earth. His sister Freya (Freia) is the most propitious of the goddesses. She loves music, spring, and flowers, and the fairies of Elfheim. She is the goddess of love. Her day is Friday.

Tyr (Ziu or Tiw), from whose name is derived our Tuesday, is the wrestler among the gods; and preëminently the "god of battles."

Heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is therefore placed on the borders of heaven to prevent the giants from forcing their way over the bridge Bifrost. He requires less sleep than a bird, and sees by night as well as by day a hundred miles around him. So acute is his ear that no sound escapes him, for he can even hear the grass grow,--and the wool on a sheep's back.

=273. = Loki (or Loge) is described as the calumniator of the gods and the contriver of all fraud and mischief. He is the son of Farbauti, the Charon of Norse mythology. He is handsome and well made, but of fickle mood and evil disposition. Although of the demon race, he forced himself into the company of the gods, and seemed to take pleasure in bringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them out of the danger by his cunning, wit, and skill. Loki has three children. The first is the wolf Fenris, the second the Midgard Serpent, the third Hela (Death). The gods were not ignorant that these monsters were maturing and that they would one day bring much evil on gods and men. So Odin deemed it advisable to send one to bring them to him. When they came he threw the serpent in that deep ocean by which the earth is surrounded.

But the monster has grown to such an enormous size that, holding his tail in his mouth, he encircles the whole earth. Hela he hurled below Niflheim and gave her power over nine worlds or regions, in which she distributes those who are sent to her,--that is, all who die of sickness or old age. Her hall is called Eliudnir, or Sleet-den. Hunger is her table, Starvation her knife, Delay her man, Slowness her maid, Pale Woe her door, Stumbling-stone her threshold, Care her bed; and Falling-peril forms the hangings of her apartments. She may easily be recognized, for her body is half flesh color and half blue, and she presents a stern and forbidding countenance.

The wolf Fenris gave the gods a great deal of trouble before they succeeded in chaining him. He broke the strongest fetters as if they were made of cobwebs. Finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountain spirits, who made for them the chain called Gleipnir. It is fashioned of six things,--the noise made by the footfall of a cat, the beards of women, the roots of stones, the breath of fishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of bears, and the spittle of birds. When finished it was as smooth and soft as a silken string. But when the gods asked the wolf to suffer himself to be bound with this apparently slight ribbon, he suspected their design, fearing that it was made by enchantment. He therefore consented to be bound with it only on condition that one of the gods put his hand in his (Fenris') mouth as a pledge that the band was to be removed again. Tyr alone had courage enough to do this.

But when the wolf found that he could not break his fetters and that the gods would not release him, he bit off Tyr's hand. Tyr, consequently, has ever since remained one-handed.

=274. = When the gods were constructing their abodes and had already finished Midgard and Valhalla, a certain artificer came and offered to build them a residence so well fortified that they should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the Frost giants and the giants of the mountains. But he demanded for his reward the goddess Freya, together with the sun and moon. The gods yielded to the terms, provided that the artificer would finish the whole work without any one's assistance, and all within the space of one winter. But if anything remained unfinished on the first day of summer, he should forfeit the recompense agreed on. On being told these terms, the artificer stipulated that he be allowed the use of his horse Svadilfari, and this request, by the advice of Loki, was conceded. He accordingly set to work on the first day of winter, and during the night let his horse draw stone for the building.

The enormous size of the stones struck the gods with astonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse did one half more of the toilsome work than his master. Their bargain, however, had been concluded and confirmed by solemn oaths, for without these precautions a giant would not have thought himself safe among the gods,--still less, indeed, if Thor should return from the expedition he had then undertaken against the evil demons.

As the winter drew to a close the building was far advanced, and the bulwarks were sufficiently high and massive to render the place impregnable. In short, when it wanted but three days to summer, the only part that remained to be finished was the gateway. Then sat the gods on their seats of justice and entered into consultation, inquiring of one another who among them could have advised the rest to surrender Freya, or to plunge the heavens in darkness by permitting the giant to carry away the sun and the moon.

They all agreed that no one but Loki, the author of so many evil deeds, could have given such counsel, and that he should be put to a cruel death unless he contrived some way to prevent the artificer from completing his task and obtaining the stipulated recompense. They proceeded to lay hands on Loki, who in his fright promised on oath that, let it cost him what it might, he would so manage matters that the man should lose his reward. That night when the man went with Svadilfari for building-stone, a mare suddenly ran out of a forest and began to neigh. The horse thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the forest, obliging the man also to run after his horse; thus, therefore, between one and another the whole night was lost, so that at dawn the work had not made the usual progress.

The man, seeing that he must fail of completing his task, resumed his own gigantic stature, and the gods now clearly perceived that it was in reality a mountain giant who had come among them. Feeling no longer bound by their oaths, they called on Thor, who immediately ran to their assistance and, lifting up his mallet, paid the workman his wages, not with the sun and moon, and not even by sending him back to Jötunheim, for with the first blow he shattered the giant's skull to pieces and hurled him headlong into Niflheim.

=275. = Soon afterward it happened that Thor's hammer fell into the possession of the giant Thrym, who buried it eight fathoms deep under the rocks of Jötunheim. Thor sent Loki to negotiate with Thrym, but he could only prevail so far as to get the giant's promise to restore the weapon if Freya would consent to be his bride. Loki returned and reported the result of his mission, but the goddess of love was horrified at the idea of bestowing her charms on the king of the Frost giants. In this emergency Loki persuaded Thor to dress himself in Freya's clothes and accompany him to Jötunheim. Thrym received his veiled bride with due courtesy, but was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her supper eight salmon and a full-grown ox besides other delicacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of mead.

Loki, however, assured him that she had not tasted anything for eight long nights, so great was her desire to see her lover, the renowned ruler of Jötunheim. Thrym had at last the curiosity to peep under his bride's veil, but started back in affright, and demanded why Freya's eyeballs glistened with fire. Loki repeated the same excuse, and the giant was satisfied. He ordered the hammer to be brought in and laid on the maiden's lap. Thereupon Thor threw off his disguise, grasped his redoubted weapon, and slaughtered Thrym and all his followers.

=276. = One day Thor, with his servant Thialfi and accompanied by Loki, set out for the giants' country. Thialfi was of all men the swiftest of foot. He bore Thor's wallet containing their provisions. When night came on they found themselves in an immense forest, and searched on all sides for a place where they might pass the night. At last they came to a large hall, with an entrance that took the whole breadth of one end of the building. Here they lay down to sleep, but towards midnight were alarmed by an earthquake which shook the whole edifice. Thor, rising up, called on his companions to seek with him a place of safety. On the right they found an adjoining chamber into which the others entered, but Thor remained at the doorway with his mallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself whatever might happen.

A terrible groaning was heard during the night, and at dawn of day Thor went out and found lying near him a huge giant, still snoring in the way that had alarmed them. For once Thor was afraid to use his mallet, and as the giant soon waked up, Thor contented himself with simply asking his name.

"My name is Skrymir," said the giant, "but I need not ask thy name, for I know that thou art the god Thor. But what has become of my glove?" Thor then perceived that what they had taken overnight for a hall was the giant's glove, and the chamber where his two companions had sought refuge was the thumb. Skrymir then proposed that they should travel in company, and Thor consenting, they sat down to eat their breakfast. When they had done, Skrymir packed all the provisions into one wallet, threw it over his shoulder, and strode on before them, taking such tremendous strides that they were hard put to it to keep up with him. So they traveled the whole day, and at dusk Skrymir chose a place for them to pass the night in under a large oak tree. Skrymir then told them he would lie down to sleep. "But take ye the wallet," he added, "and prepare your supper."

Skrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly, but when Thor tried to open the wallet, he found the giant had tied it up so tight he could not untie a single knot. At last Thor became wroth, and grasping his mallet with both hands, he struck a furious blow on the giant's head. Skrymir, awakening, merely asked whether a leaf had not fallen on his head, and whether they had supped and were ready to go to sleep. Thor answered that they were just going to sleep, and so saying went and laid himself down under another tree. But sleep came not that night to Thor, and when Skrymir snored again so loud that the forest reëchoed with the noise, he arose, and, grasping his mallet, launched it with such force at the giant's skull that it made a deep dint in it. Skrymir, awakening, cried out: "What's the matter? Are there any birds perched on this tree? I felt some moss from the branches fall on my head. How fares it with thee, Thor?"

But Thor went away hastily, saying that he had just then awoke, and, that as it was only midnight, there was still time for sleep. He, however, resolved that if he had an opportunity of striking a third blow, it should settle all matters between them. A little before daybreak he perceived that Skrymir was again fast asleep, and again grasping his mallet, he dashed it with such violence that it forced its way into the giant's skull up to the handle. But Skrymir sat up, and, stroking his cheek, said: "An acorn fell on my head. What! Art thou awake, Thor? Methinks it is time for us to get up and dress ourselves; but you have not now a long way before you to the city called Utgard. I have heard you whispering to one another that I am not a man of small dimensions, but if you come to Utgard, you will see there many men much taller than I.

Wherefore I advise you, when you come there, not to make too much of yourselves; for the followers of Utgard-Loki will not brook the boasting of such little fellows as you are. You must take the road that leads eastward; mine lies northward, so we must part here."

Hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders and turned away from them into the forest, and Thor had no wish to stop him or to ask for any more of his company.

Thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and towards noon descried a city standing in the middle of a plain. It was so lofty that they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on their shoulders in order to see to the top of it. On arriving they entered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with the door wide open, they went in and found a number of men of prodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall. Going further, they came before the king Utgard-Loki, whom they saluted with great respect. The king, regarding them with a scornful smile, said, "If I do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must be the god Thor." Then addressing himself to Thor, he said: "Perhaps thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be. What are the feats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in?--for no one is permitted to remain here who does not, in some feat or other, excel all other men."

"The feat that I know," said Loki, "is to eat quicker than any one else, and in this I am ready to give a proof against any one here who may choose to compete with me."

"That will indeed be a feat, if thou performest what thou promisest," said Utgard-Loki, "and it shall be tried forthwith."

He then ordered one of his men, who was sitting at the farther end of the bench and whose name was Logi, to come forward and try his skill with Loki. A trough filled with meat having been set on the hall floor, Loki placed himself at one end and Logi at the other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could, until they met in the middle of the trough. But it was found that Loki had only eaten the flesh, while his adversary had devoured both flesh and bone, and the trough to boot. All the company therefore adjudged that Loki was vanquished.

Utgard-Loki then asked what feat the young man who accompanied Thor could perform. Thialfi answered that he would run a race with any one who might be matched against him. The king observed that skill in running was something to boast of, but if the youth would win the match, he must display great agility. He then arose and went, with all who were present, to a plain where there was good ground for running on, and calling a young man named Hugi, bade him run a match with Thialfi. In the first course Hugi so much outstripped his competitor that he turned back and met him not far from the starting-place. Then they ran a second and a third time, but Thialfi met with no better success.

Utgard-Loki then asked Thor in what feats he would choose to give proofs of that prowess for which he was so famous. Thor answered that he would try a drinking-match with any one. Utgard-Loki bade his cupbearer bring the large horn which his followers were obliged to empty when they had trespassed in any way against the law of the feast. The cupbearer having presented it to Thor, Utgard-Loki said, "Whoever is a good drinker will empty that horn at a single draft, though most men make two of it; but the most puny drinker can do it in three."

Thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no extraordinary size, though somewhat long; however, as he was very thirsty, he set it to his lips and, without drawing breath, pulled as long and as deeply as he could, that he might not be obliged to make a second draft of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in, he could scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished.

After taking breath, Thor went to it again with all his might, but when he took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that he had drank rather less than before, although the horn could now be carried without spilling.

"How now, Thor," said Utgard-Loki, "thou must not spare thyself; if thou meanest to drain the horn at the third draft, thou must pull deeply; and I must needs say that thou wilt not be called so mighty a man here as thou art at home if thou showest no greater prowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in this."

Thor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips and did his best to empty it; but on looking in found the liquor was only a little lower, so he resolved to make no further attempt, but gave back the horn to the cupbearer.

"I now see plainly," said Utgard-Loki, "that thou art not quite so stout as we thought thee; but wilt thou try any other feat?--though methinks thou art not likely to bear any prize away with thee hence."

"What new trial hast thou to propose?" said Thor.

"We have a very trifling game here," answered Utgard-Loki, "in which we exercise none but children. It consists in merely lifting my cat from the ground; nor should I have dared to mention such a feat to the great Thor if I had not already observed that thou art by no means what we took thee for."

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

"This trial has turned out," said Utgard-Loki, "just as I imagined it would. The cat is large, but Thor is little in comparison to our men."

"Little as ye call me," answered Thor, "let me see who among you will come hither now that I am in wrath and wrestle with me."

"I see no one here," said Utgard-Loki, looking at the men sitting on the benches, "who would not think it beneath him to wrestle with thee; let somebody, however, call hither that old crone, my nurse Elli, and let Thor wrestle with her if he will. She has thrown to the ground many a man not less strong than this Thor is."

A toothless old woman then entered the hall, and was told by Utgard-Loki to take hold of Thor. The tale is shortly told. The more Thor tightened his hold on the crone the firmer she stood. At length, after a very violent struggle, Thor began to lose his footing, and was finally brought down on one knee. Utgard-Loki then told them to desist, adding that Thor had now no occasion to ask any one else in the hall to wrestle with him, and it was also getting late; so he showed Thor and his companions to their seats, and they passed the night there in good cheer.

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

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

"Nay," said Utgard-Loki, "it behooves me to tell thee the truth, now thou art out of the city, which so long as I live and have my way thou shalt never enter again. And, by my troth, had I known beforehand that thou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst have brought me so near to a great mishap I would not have suffered thee to enter this time. Know then that I have all along deceived thee by my illusions; first in the forest, where I tied up the wallet with iron wire so that thou couldst not untie it. After this thou gavest me three blows with thy mallet; the first, though the least, would have ended my days had it fallen on me, but I slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain, where thou wilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep. These are the dints made by thy mallet. I have made use of similar illusions in the contests ye have had with my followers.

In the first, Loki, like hunger itself, devoured all that was set before him, but Logi was in reality nothing else than Fire, and therefore consumed not only the meat but the trough which held it. Hugi, with whom Thialfi contended in running, was Thought, and it was impossible for Thialfi to keep pace with that. When thou, in thy turn, didst attempt to empty the horn, thou didst perform, by my troth, a deed so marvelous that had I not seen it myself I should never have believed it. For one end of that horn reached the sea, which thou wast not aware of, but when thou comest to the shore thou wilt perceive how much the sea has sunk by thy drafts.

Thou didst perform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat, and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that one of his paws was off the floor, we were all of us terror-stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality the Midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and he was so stretched by thee that he was barely long enough to inclose it between his head and tail. Thy wrestling with Elli was also a most astonishing feat, for there was never yet a man, nor ever will be, whom Old Age, for such in fact was Elli, will not sooner or later lay low. But now, as we are going to part, let me tell thee that it will be better for both of us if thou never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, I shall again defend myself by other illusions, so that thou wilt only lose thy labor and get no fame from the contest with me."

On hearing these words Thor, in a rage, laid hold of his mallet and would have launched it at him, but Utgard-Loki had disappeared, and when Thor would have returned to the city to destroy it, he found nothing around him but a verdant plain.

=277. = Freyr also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword which would of itself spread a field with carnage whenever the owner desired it. Freyr parted with this sword, but was less fortunate than Thor and never recovered it. It happened in this way: Freyr once mounted Odin's throne, from whence one can see over the whole universe, and looking round, saw far off in the giant's kingdom a beautiful maid, at the sight of whom he was struck with sudden sadness, insomuch that from that moment he could neither sleep nor drink nor speak. At last Skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret from him, and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if he would give him his sword as a reward. Freyr consented and gave him the sword, and Skirnir set off on his journey and obtained the maiden's promise that within nine nights she would come to a certain place and there wed Freyr. Skirnir having reported the success of his errand, Freyr exclaimed:

"Long is one night, Long are two nights, But how shall I hold out three? Shorter hath seemed A month to me oft Than of this longing time the half."

So Freyr obtained Gerda, the most beautiful of all women, for his wife, but he lost his sword.

=278. The Death of Balder.= Balder the Good, having been tormented with terrible dreams indicating that his life was in peril, told them to the assembled gods, who resolved to conjure all things to avert from him the threatened danger. Then Frigga, the wife of Odin, exacted an oath from fire and water, from iron and all other metals, from stones, trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping things, that none of them would do any harm to Balder. Odin, not satisfied with all this, and feeling alarmed for the fate of his son, determined to consult the prophetess Angerbode, a giantess, mother of Fenris, Hela, and the Midgard serpent. She was dead, and Odin was forced to seek her in Hela's dominions.

But the other gods, feeling that what Frigga had done was quite sufficient, amused themselves with using Balder as a mark, some hurling darts at him, some stones, while others hewed at him with their swords and battle-axes, for do what they would, none of them could harm him. And this became a favorite pastime with them, and was regarded as an honor shown to Balder. But when Loki beheld the scene, he was sorely vexed that Balder was not hurt. Assuming, therefore, the shape of a woman, he went to Fensalir, the mansion of Frigga. That goddess, when she saw the pretended woman, inquired of her if she knew what the gods were doing at their meetings. She replied that they were throwing darts and stones at Balder, without being able to hurt him. "Ay," said Frigga, "neither stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt Balder, for I have exacted an oath from all of them." "What," exclaimed the woman, "have all things sworn to spare Balder?"

"All things," replied Frigga, "except one little shrub that grows on the eastern side of Valhalla and is called Mistletoe, which I thought too young and feeble to crave an oath from."

As soon as Loki heard this he went away and, resuming his natural shape, cut off the mistletoe and repaired to the place where the gods were assembled. There he found Höder standing apart, without partaking of the sports on account of his blindness, and going up to him said, "Why dost thou not also throw something at Balder?"

"Because I am blind," answered Höder, "and see not where Balder is, and have, moreover, nothing to throw."

"Come, then," said Loki, "do like the rest and show honor to Balder by throwing this twig at him, and I will direct thy arm toward the place where he stands."

Höder then took the mistletoe and, under the guidance of Loki, darted it at Balder, who, pierced through and through, fell down lifeless. Never was there witnessed, either among gods or men, a more atrocious deed.

So on the floor lay Balder dead; and round[366] Lay thickly strewn swords, axes, darts, and spears, Which all the gods in sport had idly thrown At Balder, whom no weapon pierced or clove; But in his breast stood fixt the fatal bough Of mistletoe, which Lok the accuser gave To Höder, and unwitting Höder threw-- 'Gainst that alone had Balder's life no charm. And all the gods and all the heroes came, And stood round Balder on the bloody floor, Weeping and wailing; and Valhalla rang Up to its golden roof with sobs and cries; And on the tables stood the untasted meats, And in the horns and gold-rimmed skulls the wine. And now would night have fall'n and found them yet Wailing; but otherwise was Odin's will.

He bade them not to spend themselves in unavailing grief, for Balder, though the brightest god of heaven and best beloved, had but met the doom ordained at his birth by the Norns. Rather let the funeral pile be prepared, and let vengeance on Loki be left to Odin himself. So speaking, Odin mounted his horse Sleipnir and rode away to Lidskialf, and the gods in Valhalla returned to the feast:

And before each the cooks, who served them, placed New messes of the boar Serimnir's flesh, And the Valkyries crowned their horns with mead. So they, with pent-up hearts and tearless eyes, Wailing no more, in silence ate and drank, While twilight fell, and sacred night came on.

But the blind Höder, leaving the gods, went by the sea to Fensalir, the house of Frigga, mother of the gods, to ask her what way there might be of restoring Balder to life and heaven. Might Hela perchance surrender Balder if Höder himself should take his place among the shades? "Nay," replied Frigga, "no way is there but one, that the first god thou meetest on the return to Asgard take Sleipnir, Odin's horse, and ride o'er the bridge Bifrost where is Heimdall's watch, past Midgard fortress, down the dark, unknown road to Hel, and there entreat the goddess Hela that she yield Balder back to heaven." Höder, returning cityward, met Hermod, swiftest of the gods,--

Nor yet could Hermod see his brother's face, For it grew dark; but Höder touched his arm. And as a spray of honeysuckle flowers Brushes across a tired traveler's face Who shuffles through the deep dew-moisten'd dust On a May evening, in the darken'd lanes, And starts him, that he thinks a ghost went by, So Höder brush'd by Hermod's side, and said: "Take Sleipnir, Hermod, and set forth with dawn To Hela's kingdom, to ask Balder back; And they shall be thy guides who have the power." He spake, and brush'd soft by and disappear'd. And Hermod gazed into the night, and said: "Who is it utters through the dark his hest So quickly, and will wait for no reply? The voice was like the unhappy Höder's voice. Howbeit I will see, and do his hest; For there rang note divine in that command." So speaking, the fleet-footed Hermod came Home, and lay down to sleep in his own house; And all the gods lay down in their own homes.

And Höder, too, came home distraught with grief, Loathing to meet, at dawn, the other gods; And he went in, and shut the door, and fixt His sword upright, and fell on it, and died. But from the hill of Lidskialf Odin rose, The throne, from which his eye surveys the world; And mounted Sleipnir, and in darkness rode To Asgard. And the stars came out in heaven, High over Asgard, to light home the king. But fiercely Odin gallop'd, moved in heart: And swift to Asgard, to the gate he came, And terribly the hoofs of Sleipnir rang Along the flinty floor of Asgard streets, And the gods trembled on their golden beds Hearing the wrathful father coming home-- For dread, for like a whirlwind Odin came. And to Valhalla's gate he rode, and left Sleipnir; and Sleipnir went to his own stall, And in Valhalla Odin laid him down.

That night in a vision appeared Balder to Nanna his wife, comforting her:

"Yes, and I fain would altogether ward Death from thy head, and with the gods in heaven Prolong thy life, though not by thee desired-- But right bars this, not only thy desire. Yet dreary, Nanna, is the life they lead In that dim world, in Hela's moldering realm; And doleful are the ghosts, the troops of dead, Whom Hela with austere control presides. For of the race of gods is no one there Save me alone, and Hela, solemn queen; For all the nobler souls of mortal men On battle field have met their death, and now Feast in Valhalla, in my father's hall; Only the inglorious sort are there below-- The old, the cowards, and the weak are there, Men spent by sickness, or obscure decay. But even there, O Nanna, we might find Some solace in each other's look and speech, Wandering together through that gloomy world, And talking of the life we led in heaven, While we yet lived, among the other gods."

He spake, and straight his lineaments began To fade; and Nanna in her sleep stretch'd out Her arms towards him with a cry, but he Mournfully shook his head and disappear'd. And as the woodman sees a little smoke Hang in the air, afield, and disappear, So Balder faded in the night away. And Nanna on her bed sank back; but then Frea, the mother of the gods, with stroke Painless and swift, set free her airy soul, Which took, on Balder's track, the way below; And instantly the sacred morn appear'd.

With the morn Hermod, mounting Sleipnir, set out on his mission. For the space of nine days and as many nights he rode through deep glens so dark that he could not discern anything, until he arrived at the river Gyoll, which he passed over on a bridge covered with glittering gold. The maiden who kept the bridge asked him his name and lineage, telling him that the day before five bands of dead persons had ridden over the bridge, and did not shake it as much as he alone. "But," she added, "thou hast not death's hue on thee; why then ridest thou here on the way to Hel?"

"I ride to Hel," answered Hermod, "to seek Balder. Hast thou perchance seen him pass this way?"

She replied, "Balder hath ridden over Gyoll's bridge, and yonder lieth the way he took to the abodes of death."

Hermod pursued his journey until he came to the barred gates of Hel. Here he alighted, girthed his saddle tighter, and remounting clapped both spurs to his horse, which cleared the gate by a tremendous leap without touching it. Hermod then rode on to the palace, where he found his brother Balder occupying the most distinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in his company. The next morning he besought Hela to let Balder ride home with him, assuring her that nothing but lamentations were to be heard among the gods. Hela answered that it should now be tried whether Balder was so beloved as he was said to be. "If, therefore," she added, "all things in the world, both living and lifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to life; but if any one thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall be kept in Hel."

Hermod then rode back to Asgard and gave an account of all he had heard and witnessed.

The gods on this dispatched messengers throughout the world to beg everything to weep in order that Balder might be delivered from Hel. All things very willingly complied with this request, both men and every other living being, as well as earths, and stones, and trees, and metals, just as we have all seen these things weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot one.

And they rode home together, through the wood Of Jarnvid, which to east of Midgard lies Bordering the giants, where the trees are iron; There in the wood before a cave they came, Where sate in the cave's mouth a skinny hag, Toothless and old; she gibes the passers-by. Thok is she called, but now Lok wore her shape; She greeted them the first, and laughed and said: "Ye gods, good lack, is it so dull in heaven That ye come pleasuring to Thok's iron wood? Lovers of change, ye are, fastidious sprites. Look, as in some boor's yard, a sweet-breath'd cow, Whose manger is stuffed full of good fresh hay, Snuffs at it daintily, and stoops her head To chew the straw, her litter at her feet-- So ye grow squeamish, gods, and sniff at heaven!" She spake, but Hermod answered her and said, "Thok, not for gibes we come; we come for tears. Balder is dead, and Hela holds her prey, But will restore, if all things give him tears. to all was Balder dear."

and do ye come for tears? Thok with dry eyes will weep o'er Balder's pyre. let Hela keep her prey." [367]

So was Balder prevented from returning to Asgard.

=279. The Funeral of Balder.= The gods took up the dead body and bore it to the seashore, where stood Balder's ship Hringham, which passed for the largest in the world. Balder's dead body was put on the funeral pile, on board the ship; and the body of Nanna was burned on the same pile with her husband's. There was a vast concourse of various kinds of people at Balder's obsequies. First came Odin accompanied by Frigga, the Valkyries, and his ravens; then Freyr in his car drawn by Gullinbursti, the boar; Heimdall rode his horse Gulltopp, and Freya drove in her chariot drawn by cats. There were also a great many Frost giants and giants of the mountain present. Balder's horse was led to the pile fully caparisoned, and was consumed in the same flames with his master.

From the painting by Gebhardt]

But Loki did not escape his merited punishment. When he saw how wroth the gods were, he fled to the mountain and there built himself a hut with four doors, so that he could see every approaching danger. He invented a net to catch the fishes, such as fishermen have used since his time. But Odin found out his hiding place and the gods assembled to take him. He, seeing this, changed himself into a salmon and lay hid among the stones of the brook. But the gods took his net and dragged the brook, and Loki, finding he must be caught, tried to leap over the net; but Thor caught him by the tail, and compressed it so that salmon ever since have had that part remarkably fine and thin. They bound him with chains and suspended a serpent over his head, whose venom falls on his face drop by drop.

His wife, Siguna, sits by his side and catches the drops as they fall, in a cup; but when she carries it away to empty it, the venom falls on Loki, which makes him howl with horror and writhe so that the whole earth shakes.

=280. The Elves.= The Edda mentions another class of beings, inferior to the gods, but still possessed of great power; these were the Elves. The white spirits, or Elves of Light, were exceedingly fair, more brilliant than the sun, and clad in garments of a delicate and transparent texture. They loved the light, were kindly disposed to mankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely children. Their country was called Elfheim, and was the domain of Freyr, in whose sunlight they always sported.

The black elves, ugly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown color, appeared only at night. They avoided the sun as their most deadly enemy, because his beams changed them immediately into stones. Their language was the echo of solitudes, and their dwelling places subterranean caves and clefts. They were supposed to have come into existence as maggots produced by the decaying flesh of Ymir's body. They were afterwards endowed by the gods with a human form and great understanding. They were particularly distinguished for a knowledge of the mysterious powers of nature, and for the runes which they carved and explained. They were the most skillful artificers of all created beings, and worked in metals and in wood. Among their most noted works were Thor's hammer, and the ship Skidbladnir, which they gave to Freyr.

This vessel was so large that it could contain all the deities with their war and household implements, but so skillfully was it wrought that when folded together it could be put into a side pocket.

=281. = It was a firm belief of the Northern nations that a time would come when all the visible creation, the gods of Valhalla and Niflheim, the inhabitants of Jötunheim, Elfheim, and Midgard, together with their habitations, would be destroyed. The fearful day of destruction will not however be without warning. First will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall from the four corners of the heavens, the frost be severe, the wind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun impart no gladness. Three such winters will pass without being tempered by a single summer. Three other like winters will follow, during which war and discord will spread over the universe. The earth itself will be afraid and begin to tremble, the sea leave its basin, the heavens tear asunder; men will perish in great numbers, and the eagles of the air feast on their still quivering bodies.

The wolf Fenris will now break his bands, the Midgard serpent rise out of his bed in the sea, and Loki, released from his bonds, will join the enemies of the gods. Amidst the general devastation the sons of Muspelheim will rush forth under their leader Surter, before and behind whom are flames and burning fire. Onward they ride over Bifrost, the rainbow bridge, which breaks under the horses' hoofs. But they, disregarding its fall, direct their course to the battle field called Vigrid. Thither also repair the wolf Fenris, the Midgard serpent, Loki, with all the followers of Hela, and the Frost giants.

Heimdall now stands up and sounds the Giallar horn to assemble the gods and heroes for the contest. The gods advance, led on by Odin, who, engaging the wolf Fenris, falls a victim to the monster. Fenris is, in turn, slain by Vidar, Odin's son. Thor wins great renown by killing the Midgard serpent, but, recoiling, falls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying monster vomits over him. Loki and Heimdall meet and fight till they both are slain. The gods and their enemies having fallen in battle, Surter, who has killed Freyr, darts fire and flames over the world, and the universe is consumed. The sun grows dim, the earth sinks into the ocean, the stars fall from heaven, and time is no more.

After this Alfadur (not Odin but the Almighty) will cause a new heaven and a new earth to arise out of the sea. The new earth, filled with abundant supplies, will produce its fruits without labor or care. Wickedness and misery will no more be known, but the gods and men will live happily together.

This twilight of the gods is aptly described in a conversation held between Balder and Hermod, after Hermod has a second time ridden to Hel:

And the fleet-footed Hermod made reply:[368]-- "Thou hast then all the solace death allows, Esteem and function; and so far is well. Yet here thou liest, Balder, underground, Rusting for ever; and the years roll on, The generations pass, the ages grow, And bring us nearer to the final day When from the south shall march the fiery band And cross the bridge of heaven, with Lok for guide, And Fenris at his heel with broken chain; While from the east the giant Rymer steers His ship, and the great serpent makes to land; And all are marshal'd in one flaming square Against the gods, on the plains of heaven. I mourn thee, that thou canst not help us then." He spake; but Balder answered him, and said:-- "Mourn not for me! Mourn, Hermod, for the gods; Mourn for the men on earth, the gods in heaven, Who live, and with their eyes shall see that day!

The day will come, when fall shall Asgard's towers, And Odin, and his sons, the seed of Heaven; But what were I, to save them in that hour? If strength might save them, could not Odin save, My father, and his pride, the warrior Thor, Vidar the silent, the impetuous Tyr? I, what were I, when these can nought avail? Yet, doubtless, when the day of battle comes, And the two hosts are marshal'd, and in heaven The golden-crested cock shall sound alarm, And his black brother-bird from hence reply, And bucklers clash, and spears begin to pour-- Longing will stir within my breast, though vain. But not to me so grievous as, I know, To other gods it were, is my enforced Absence from fields where I could nothing aid; For I am long since weary of your storm Of carnage, and find, Hermod, in your life Something too much of war and broils, which make Life one perpetual fight, a bath of blood.

Mine eyes are dizzy with the arrowy hail; Mine ears are stunn'd with blows, and sick for calm. Inactive, therefore, let me lie in gloom, Unarm'd, inglorious; I attend the course Of ages, and my late return to light, In times less alien to a spirit mild, In new-recover'd seats, the happier day." He spake; and the fleet Hermod thus replied:-- "Brother, what seats are these, what happier day? Tell me, that I may ponder it when gone." And the ray-crownèd Balder answered him:-- "Far to the south, beyond the blue, there spreads Another heaven, the boundless--no one yet Hath reach'd it; there hereafter shall arise The second Asgard, with another name. Thither, when o'er this present earth and heavens The tempest of the latter days hath swept, And they from sight have disappear'd and sunk, Shall a small remnant of the gods repair; Höder and I shall join them from the grave.

There reassembling we shall see emerge From the bright ocean at our feet an earth More fresh, more verdant than the last, with fruits Self-springing, and a seed of man preserved, Who then shall live in peace, as now in war. But we in heaven shall find again with joy The ruin'd palaces of Odin, seats Familiar, halls where we have supp'd of old, Reënter them with wonder, never fill Our eyes with gazing, and rebuild with tears. And we shall tread once more the well-known plain Of Ida, and among the grass shall find The golden dice wherewith we played of yore; And that shall bring to mind the former life And pastime of the gods--the wise discourse Of Odin, the delights of other days. O Hermod, pray that thou may'st join us then! Such for the future is my hope; meanwhile, I rest the thrall of Hela, and endure Death, and the gloom which round me even now Thickens, and to inner gulf recalls. Farewell, for longer speech is not allow'd."

FOOTNOTES:

[364] For Records of Norse Mythology, see § 300, and Commentary, §§ 268, 282, and 300.

[365] Gray's ode, The Fatal Sisters, is founded on this superstition.

[366] From Matthew Arnold's Balder Dead.

[367] From Matthew Arnold's Balder Dead.

[368] From Matthew Arnold's Balder Dead.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

=282. The Saga of the Volsungs.=[369] Sigi, son of Odin, was a mighty king of the Huns whom Odin loved and prospered exceedingly. Rerir, also, the son of Sigi, was a man of valor and one who got lordship and land unto himself; but neither Sigi nor Rerir were to compare with Volsung, who ruled over Hunland after his father Rerir went home to Odin.

To Volsung were born ten sons and one daughter,--Signy by name; and of the sons Sigmund was the eldest and the most valiant. And the Volsungs abode in peace till Siggeir, king of Gothland, came wooing Signy, who, though loath to accept him, was, by her father's desire, betrothed to him.

Now on the night of the wedding great fires were made in the hall of the Volsungs, and in the midst stood Branstock, a great oak tree, about which the hall had been built, and the limbs of the tree spread over the roof of the hall; and round about Branstock they sat and feasted, and sang of ancient heroes and heard the music of the harp that went from hand to hand.

But e'en as men's hearts were hearkening some heard the thunder pass[370] O'er the cloudless noontide heaven; and some men turned about And deemed that in the doorway they heard a man laugh out. Then into the Volsung dwelling a mighty man there strode, One-eyed and seeming ancient, yet bright his visage glowed; Cloud-blue was the hood on him, and his kirtle gleaming-gray As the latter morning sun-dog when the storm is on the way; A bill he bore on his shoulder, whose mighty ashen beam Burnt bright with the flame of the sea, and the blended silver's gleam. And such was the guise of his raiment as the Volsung elders had told Was borne by their fathers' fathers, and the first that warred in the wold.

So strode he to the Branstock, nor greeted any lord, But forth from his cloudy raiment he drew a gleaming sword, And smote it deep in the tree-bole, and the wild hawks overhead Laughed 'neath the naked heaven as at last he spake and said: "Earls of the Goths, and Volsungs, abiders on the earth, Lo there amid the Branstock a blade of plenteous worth! The folk of the war-wand's forgers wrought never better steel Since first the burg of heaven uprose for man-folk's weal. Now let the man among you whose heart and hand may shift To pluck it from the oak-wood e'en take it for my gift. Then ne'er, but his own heart falter, its point and edge shall fail Until the night's beginning and the ending of the tale. farewell for a little while!"

So sweet his speaking sounded, so wise his words did seem That moveless all men sat there, as in a happy dream We stir not lest we waken; but there his speech had end And slowly down the hall-floor, and outward did he wend; And none would cast him a question or follow on his ways, For they knew that the gift was Odin's, a sword for the world to praise.

Then all made trial, Siggeir and his earls, and Volsung and his people, to draw forth the sword from Branstock, but with no success, till Sigmund, laying his hand carelessly on the precious hilt, drew forth the naked blade as though it were loose in the oak. Whereupon Siggeir offered money for the sword, but Sigmund scorned the offer.

But in time Siggeir had his vengeance. Inviting King Volsung and his sons to Gothland, he fell on them, slew the king, and suffered the sons, fastened under a log, to be devoured in succession by a she-wolf--all but Sigmund, who through the wile of his sister Signy was rescued. He, driven to the life of an outlaw, sought means to avenge his father, and Signy, on her part, strove to aid him,--without avail, however, till Sinfiotli, the son of herself and Sigmund, was grown to manhood. This youth bore Sigmund company. For a season, as wolves, they scoured the woods; finally resuming the form of men, they slew the children of Siggeir and burned him in his hall. Signy, having helped to avenge her father, died with her husband.

Sigmund, thereupon, became king, and took to himself a wife. But she, suffering injury at the hands of Sinfiotli, poisoned him with a horn of ale. Then Sigmund sorrowed nigh to death over his son, and drove away that queen, and soon after she died. He then married Hiordis the fair; but before long, doing battle against Lyngi, the son of Hunding,--a chieftain who also had loved the fair Hiordis,--he got his death wound:

For lo, through the hedge of the war-shafts a mighty man there came, One-eyed and seeming ancient, but his visage shone like flame; Gleaming-gray was his kirtle, and his hood was cloudy-blue; And he bore a mighty twibil, as he waded the fight-sheaves through, And stood face to face with Sigmund, and upheaved the bill to smite. Once more round the head of the Volsung fierce glittered the Branstock's light, The sword that came from Odin; and Sigmund's cry once more Rang out to the very heavens above the din of war. Then clashed the meeting edges with Sigmund's latest stroke, And in shivering shards fell earthward that fear of worldly folk.

But changed were the eyes of Sigmund, and the war-wrath left his face; For that gray-clad mighty helper was gone, and in his place Drave on the unbroken spear-wood 'gainst the Volsung's empty hands: And there they smote down Sigmund, the wonder of all lands, On the foemen, on the death-heap his deeds had piled that day.

To Hiordis, after Sigmund's death, was born Sigurd, like whom was never man for comeliness and valor and great-heartedness and might. He was the greatest of the Volsungs. His foster-father was Regin, the son of Rodmar, a blacksmith, who taught him the lore of runes and many tongues; and, by means of a story of ancient wrongs, incited him to the destruction of the dragon Fafnir. For Regin told that while the gods, Odin and H[oe]nir, were wandering with Loki near Rodmar's house, Loki slew one of Rodmar's sons, Otter. Whereupon Rodmar demanded that the gods should fill the Otter-skin with gold and cover it with gold. Now Loki, being sent to procure the gold, caught Andvari the dwarf, and from him procured by force a hoard of the precious metal and with it a magic ring, whose touch bred gold. But Andvari cursed the ring and the gold and all that might possess either.

The gods forthwith filled Otter with the dwarf's gold, and surrendered both gold and ring to Rodmar. Immediately the curse began to work. Fafnir, brother of Regin and Otter, slew Rodmar and seized the treasure and, assuming a dragon's form, brooded on the hoard. With this tale Regin egged on Sigurd to the undoing of Fafnir. He welded him, too, a resistless sword out of the shards of Sigmund's sword, Gram (the wrath). Then Sigurd swore that he would slay the dragon. But first, riding on his horse, Greyfell, of the blood of Odin's Sleipnir, he avenged on the sons of Hunding the death of his father. This done, Sigurd rode to Glistenheath and slew Fafnir, the dragon, and eating of his heart, learned the language of the birds; and at their advice he slew Regin also, who plotted against him.

So, setting the ring of Andvari on his finger and bearing the gold before him on his horse, Greyfell, Sigurd comes to the Hill of Hindfell:

And sitteth awhile on Greyfell on the marvelous thing to gaze: For lo, the side of Hindfell inwrapped by the fervent blaze, And naught 'twixt earth and heaven save a world of flickering flame, And a hurrying, shifting tangle, where the dark rents went and came.... Now Sigurd turns in his saddle, and the hilt of the Wrath he shifts, And draws a girth the tighter; then the gathered reins he lifts, And crieth aloud to Greyfell, and rides at the wildfire's heart; But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth apart, And high o'er his head it riseth, and wide and wild is its roar As it beareth the mighty tidings to the very heavenly floor; But he rideth through its roaring as the warrior rides the rye, When it bows with the wind of the summer and the hid spears draw anigh; The white-flame licks his raiment and sweeps through Greyfell's mane, And bathes both hands of Sigurd and the hilts of Fafnir's bane, And winds about his war-helm and mingles with his hair, But naught his raiment dusketh or dims his glittering gear;-- Then it falls and fades and darkens till all seems left behind, And dawn and the blaze is swallowed in mid-mirk stark and blind....

Then before him Sigurd sees a shield-hung castle, surmounted by a golden buckler, instead of a banner, which rings against the flagstaff. And he enters and finds the form of one asleep, in armor cap-a-pie.

So he draweth the helm from the head, and, lo, the brow snow-white, And the smooth unfurrowed cheeks, and the wise lips breathing light; And the face of a woman it is, and the fairest that ever was born, Shown forth to the empty heavens and the desert world forlorn: But he looketh, and loveth her sore, and he longeth her spirit to move, And awaken her heart to the world, that she may behold him and love. And he toucheth her breast and her hands, and he loveth her passing sore; And he saith, "Awake! I am Sigurd," but she moveth never the more....

Then with his bright blade Sigurd rends the ring-knit mail that incloses her, "till naught but the rippling linen is wrapping her about,"--

Then a flush cometh over her visage and a sigh upheaveth her breast, And her eyelids quiver and open, and she wakeneth into rest; Wide-eyed on the dawning she gazeth, too glad to change or smile, And but little moveth her body, nor speaketh she yet for a while; And yet kneels Sigurd, moveless, her wakening speech to heed, While soft the waves of the daylight o'er the starless heavens speed, And the gleaming vines of the Shield-burg yet bright and brighter grow, And the thin moon hangeth her horns dead-white in the golden glow. Then she turned and gazed on Sigurd, and her eyes met the Volsung's eyes. And mighty and measureless now did the tide of his love arise, For their longing had met and mingled, and he knew of her heart that she loved, As she spake unto nothing but him and her lips with the speech-flood moved.

Brynhild, it was,--the Valkyrie,--who long time had lain in that enchanted sleep that Odin, her father, had poured over her, dooming her to mortal awakening and to mortal love, for the evil she had wrought of old when she espoused the cause in battle of those whom the Norns had predestined to death. Her might none but the fearless awaken; and her had Sigurd awakened; and she loved him, for he was without fear and godlike. And she taught him many wise sayings; and they plighted troth, one to the other, both then and again; and Sigurd gave her the ring of Andvari. But they were not destined to dwell together in wedlock, and Brynhild, foreseeing the future, knew even this.

Sigurd was to wed with another than Brynhild, and it fell in this wise. In the land of the Nibelungs (Niblungs, Nibelungen) dwelt Gudrun, daughter of Giuki, the Nibelung king. And Gudrun dreamed a dream in which a fair hawk feathered with feathers of gold alighted on her wrist. She went to Brynhild for the interpretation of the dream. "The hawk," said Brynhild, "is Sigurd." And so it came to pass. Sigurd, visiting the court of the Nibelungs, was kindly entreated by King Giuki and his three sons, Gunnar, Hogni, and Guttorm; and he performed deeds of valor such that they honored him. But after many days, Grimhild, the mother of Gudrun, administered to Sigurd a magic potion that removed from him all memory of Brynhild. So Sigurd loved and wedded the fair Gudrun. Indeed he soon joined others in urging his wife's brother Gunnar, a doughty warrior, to sue for the hand of Brynhild herself.

But Brynhild would have no one that could not ride through the flames drawn up around her hall. After Gunnar had made two unsuccessful attempts, Sigurd, assuming the form of King Gunnar, mounted Greyfell and rode for the second time through the flames of Hindfell. Then, still wearing the semblance of Gunnar, he gained the consent of Brynhild to the union, and exchanged rings with her,--she giving him none other than the ancient ring of Andvari back again. But even this did not recall to Sigurd's memory his former ride and his former love. Returning to the land of the Nibelungs, he announced the success of his undertaking and told all things to Gudrun, giving her the fatal ring that he had regained from Brynhild.

In ten days came Brynhild by agreement to the Hall of the Nibelungs, and though she knew well the deceit that had been practiced on her, she made no sign; nay, was wedded, according to her promise, to King Gunnar. But as they sat at the wedding-feast, the charm of Grimhild was outworn,--Sigurd looked on Gunnar's bride and knew the Brynhild of old, the Valkyrie, whom he had loved; "and Brynhild's face drew near him with eyes grown stern and strange."

But, apparently, all went well till the young queens, one day bathing in the Water of the Nibelungs, fell into contention on a matter of privilege. Brynhild claimed precedence in entering the river on the ground that Gunnar was the liege lord of Sigurd. Gudrun, white with wrath, flashed out the true story of the ride through the flames, and thrust in Brynhild's face the Andvari ring. Consumed with jealousy, Brynhild plotted revenge. She loved Sigurd still, and he, since he had regained his memory, could not overcome his love for her. But the insult from Gudrun Brynhild would not brook. By her machinations, Guttorm, the brother of Gudrun, was incited to slay Sigurd. He, accordingly, stabbed the hero while asleep, but Sigurd, throwing Gram at the assassin, cut him in twain before he could escape.

Woe me! how the house of the Niblungs by another cry was rent, The awakening wail of Gudrun, as she shrank in the river of blood From the breast of the mighty Sigurd: he heard it and understood, And rose up on the sword of Guttorm, and turned from the country of death, And spake words of loving-kindness as he strove for life and breath; "Wail not, O child of the Niblungs! I am smitten, but thou shalt live, In remembrance of our glory, mid the gifts the gods shall give!... It is Brynhild's deed," he murmured, "and the woman that loves me well; Nought now is left to repent of, and the tale abides to tell. I have done many deeds in my life-days, and all these, and my love, they lie In the hollow hand of Odin till the day of the world go by. I have done and I may not undo, I have given and I take not again; Art thou other than I, Allfather, wilt thou gather my glory in vain?"

So ended the life of Sigurd. Brynhild, overcome with sorrow, dealt herself a mortal wound and was burned on the funeral pyre beside Sigurd the Volsung.

In time Gudrun became the queen of Atli, the Budlung. He, in order to obtain the hoard of Sigurd, which had passed into the hands of the Nibelungs,--Gudrun's brothers,--bade them visit him in Hunland. Fully warned by Gudrun, they still accepted the invitation and, arriving at the hall of Atli, were after a fearful conflict slain. But they did not surrender the hoard--that lay concealed at the bottom of the Rhine. Gudrun with the aid of Nibelung, her brother Hogni's son, in the end slew Atli, set fire to his hall, and brought ruin on the Budlung folk. Then leaping into the sea, she was borne with Swanhild, her daughter by Sigurd, to the realm of King Jonakr, who became her third husband. Swanhild, "fairest of all women, eager-eyed as her father, so that few durst look under the brows of her," met, by stress of love and treachery, a foul end in a foreign land, trampled under foot of horses.

Finally Gudrun sent her sons by Jonakr to avenge their half-sister's death; and so, bereft of all her kin and consumed with sorrow, she called on her ancient lover, Sigurd, to come and look on her, as he had promised, from his abiding-place among the dead. And thus had the words of her sorrow an end.

Her sons slew Jormunrek, the murderer of Swanhild, but were themselves done to death by the counsel and aid of a certain warrior, seeming ancient and one-eyed,--Odin the forefather of the Volsungs,--the same that had borne Sigi fellowship, and that struck the sword into Branstock of Volsung's hall, and that faced Sigmund and shattered Gram in the hour of Sigmund's need, and that brought to Sigurd the matchless horse Greyfell, and oft again had appeared to the kin of the Volsungs;--the same god now wrought the end of the Nibelungs. The hoard and the ring of Andvari had brought confusion on all into whose hands they fell.

=283. =[371] In the German version of this story--called the Nibelungenlied--certain variations of name, incident, and character appear. Sigurd is Siegfried, dwelling in Xanten near the Rhine, the son of Siegmund and Siegelind, king and queen of the Netherlands. Gudrun is Kriemhild, sister of Gunther (Gunnar), king of the Burgundians, and niece of Hagen (Hogni), a warrior of dark and sullen mien, cunning, but withal loyal and brave, the foe of the glorious Siegfried. Siegfried weds Kriemhild, takes her to the Netherlands and lives happily with her, enjoying the moneys of the Nibelungen hoard, which he had taken not from a dwarf, as in the Norse version, but from two princes, the sons of King Nibelung. Meanwhile Gunther dwells in peace in the Burgundian land, husband of the proud Brunhild, whom Siegfried had won for him by stratagem not altogether unlike that of the Norse story.

For the Brunhild of the Yssel-land had declared that she would marry no man save him who should surpass her in athletic contest. This condition Siegfried, wearing the Tarnkappe, a cloak that rendered him invisible, had fulfilled for Gunther. He had also succored poor Gunther after his marriage with Brunhild. For that heroine, in contempt of Gunther's strength, had bound him hand and foot and suspended him from a nail on their bedroom wall. By agreement Siegfried had again assumed Gunther's form and, after a fearful tussle with the queen, had reduced her to submission, taking from her the ring and girdle which were the secret sources of her strength, and leaving her to imagine that she had been conquered by her bridegroom, Gunther. The ring and girdle Siegfried had bestowed on Kriemhild, unwisely telling her at the same time the story of Brunhild's defeat.

Although the Nibelungenlied offers no explanation, it is evident that the injured queen of Yssel-land had recognized Siegfried during this ungallant intrigue; and we are led to infer that there had been some previous acquaintance and passage of love between them.

From the fresco by Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld]

At any rate, Siegfried and Kriemhild, retiring to the Netherlands, were ruling happily at Xanten by the Rhine; and all might have continued in peace had not Brunhild resented the lack of homage paid by Siegfried, whom she had been led to regard as a vassal, to Gunther, his reputed overlord.

In her heart this thought she fostered, deep in its inmost core;[372] That still they kept such distance, a secret grudge she bore. How came it that their vassal to court declined to go, Nor for his land did homage, she inly yearned to know.

She made request of Gunther, and begged it so might be, That she the absent Kriemhild yet once again might see, And told him, too, in secret, whereon her thoughts were bent,-- Then with the words she uttered her lord was scarce content.

From the fresco by Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld]

But Gunther yielded, and Siegfried and Kriemhild were invited to Worms, nominally to attend a high festival.... With what joy and gladness welcomed were they there! It seemed when came dame Brunhild to Burgundy whilere, Her welcome by dame Kriemhild less tender was and true; The heart of each beholder beat higher at the view....

Received was bold Sir Siegfried, as fitted well his state, With the highest honors; no man bore him hate. Young Giselher and Gernot proffered all courtly care; Never met friend or kinsman reception half so fair.

One day at the hour of vespers certain knights proved themselves at tilting in the regal courtyard. Conspicuous among these was Siegfried. And the proud queens sitting together were thinking each on the good knight that she loved full well. Then outspoke fair Kriemhild, "My husband is of such might that surely he should rule these realms"; Brunhild answered, "So long as Gunther lives that can never be."... Thereto rejoined fair Kriemhild, "See'st thou how proud he stands, How proud he stalks, conspicuous among those warrior bands, As doth the moon far-beaming the glimmering stars outshine? Sure have I cause to pride me when such a knight is mine."

Thereto replied queen Brunhild, "How brave soe'er he be, How stout soe'er or stately, one greater is than he. Gunther, thy noble brother, a higher place may claim, Of knights and kings the foremost in merit and in fame."

So began the altercation. It attained its climax the same day, when each queen attempted to take precedence of the other in entering the cathedral for the celebration of the mass.

Both met before the minster in all the people's sight; There at once the hostess let out her deadly spite. Bitterly and proud she bade fair Kriemhild stand; "No vassaless precedeth the lady of the land."

Then, full of wrath, Kriemhild, in terms anything but delicate, acquainted her haughty sister-in-law with the deception that had twice been practiced on her by Siegfried and Gunther; nay, worse, corroborated her statement by displaying both ring and girdle that Brunhild had lost. The altercation came to the ears of the kings. Gunther made complaint to Siegfried. Then,... "Women must be instructed," said Siegfried, the good knight, "To leave off idle talking and rule their tongues aright. Keep thy fair wife in order, I'll do by mine the same. Such overweening folly puts me indeed to shame."

But it was too late to mend the matter. With devilish intent Brunhild plotted vengeance. Siegfried, the author of her mortification, must die the death. The foes of Siegfried persuaded his wife, unaware of their design, to embroider in his vesture a silken cross over the one spot where the hero was vulnerable. Then the crafty Hagen, who had been suborned by Brunhild to the baleful deed, bided his time. One day, Gunther, Hagen, and Siegfried, heated in running, stayed by a brook to drink. Then, as to drink, Sir Siegfried down kneeling there he found, He pierced him through the crosslet, that sudden from the wound Forth the life-blood spurted, e'en o'er his murderer's weed. With blood were all bedabbled the flowerets of the field. Some time with death he struggled as though he scorned to yield E'en to the foe whose weapon strikes down the loftiest head. At last prone in the meadow lay mighty Siegfried dead.

Brunhild glories in the fall of Siegfried and exults over the mourning widow. Kriemhild, sitting apart, nurses schemes of vengeance. Her brothers affect to patch up the breach in order that they may obtain the hoard of the Nibelungs. But this treasure, after it has been brought to Worms, is sunk, for precaution's sake, by Hagen, in the Rhine. Although in time Kriemhild becomes the wife of King Etzel (Atli, Attila) of Hunland, still she does not forget the injury done her by her kin. After thirteen years she inveigles her brothers and their retainers, called now Nibelungs because of their possession of the hoard, to Etzel's court, where, after a desperate and dastardly encounter, in which their hall is reduced to ashes, they are all destroyed save Gunther and Hagen. Immediately, thereafter, Gunther's head is cut off at her orders; and she herself, with Siegfried's sword Balmung, severs the head of the hated Hagen from his body.

With these warriors the secret of the hidden hoard passes. Kriemhild, having wreaked her vengeance, falls by the hand of one of her husband's knights, Hildebrand, who, with Dietrich of Bern, had played a prominent part among the associates of King Etzel.

"I cannot say you now what hath befallen since; The women all were weeping, and the Ritters and the prince, Also the noble squires, their dear friends lying dead: Here hath the story ending; this is the Nibelungen's Need."[373]

FOOTNOTES:

[369] For the Sagas, see § 300; and for translations, etc., see § 282 of the Commentary.

[370] The extracts in verse are from William Morris' Sigurd the Volsung.

[371] For Records of German Mythology, see § 301, below; for literature and translations, see §§ 283 and 301 of the Commentary.

[372] The extracts in verse are, unless otherwise stated, from the translation by W. N. Lettsom, London, 1890. Werner Hahn's Uebersetzung has also been used.

[373] From Carlyle's translation of fragments of the poem.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

=284. = In his famous Ring of the Nibelung the German composer, Richard Wagner, returns to the Norse version of the stories recounted in the chapter preceding this. He is responsible not only for the musical score of the four operas of which the Ring consists, but for the text and scenic arrangement as well. As musical dramas the four plays constitute the grandest series of the kind that the world possesses. But even if they were not wedded to such music, the Rhine-gold, the Valkyrie, the Siegfried, and the Twilight (or Dusk) of the Gods would be entitled, for creative invention, imaginative insight and power, and poetic diction, to rank with notable dramas, ancient or modern.

The tetralogy (or series of four) presents the whole story of the accursed Nibelung gold, from that dawn when it was wrested from the daughters of the Rhine to that dusk when it was restored, having wrought meanwhile the doom of Nibelungs, Volsungs, and the gods themselves.

=285. The Rhine-gold.= We are at the bottom of the Rhine: a greenish twilight, and moving water, and everywhere sharp points of rocks jutting from the depths. Around the central rock three Rhine-daughters swim, guarding it carefully, but laughing and playing, and chasing one the other as they guard. To them from a chasm climbs Alberich, the Nibelung, he who in the old Norse lay was known as Andvari. He views the maidens with increasing pleasure. He addresses them, he clambers after them, he strives to catch them; they lure him on, they mock him and escape his grasp; he woos them each in turn, all unsuccessfully. He gazes upward--"Could I but catch one"; then once more failing, remains in speechless rage. Rage soon transformed to wonder: for through the water from above there filters a brightening glow, a magical light, streaming from the summit of the central rock where in the splendor of the morning sun the Rhine-gold laughs a-kindle.

"What is it, ye sleek ones, That there doth gleam and glow?"[374]

Has he never heard of the Rhine-gold? they ask. Of the wondrous star whose glory lightens the waves? He has not. He scorns it.

"The golden charm," cries one of the maidens,--

"The golden charm Wouldst thou not flout Knewest thou all of its wonders."

"The world's wealth," jeers another,

"Could be won by a man If out of the Rhine-gold He fashioned the Ring That measureless might can bestow... He who the sway Of love forswears, He who delight Of love forbears, Only he can master the magic That forces the gold to a ring!"

"But we fear not thee--oh, no--for thou burnest in love for us."

So, lightly sing the Rhine-daughters; but Alberich, with his eyes on the gold, has heeded well their chatter. "The world's wealth," he mutters; "might I win that by the spell of the gold? Nay, though love be the forfeit, my cunning shall win me delight." Then terribly loud he cries,

"Mock ye, mock on! The Nibelung neareth your toy;--" then, clambering with haste to the summit,

"My hand, it quenches your light; I wrest from the rock your gold; I fashion the ring of revenge; Now, hear me, ye floods-- Accursèd be love henceforth."

Tearing the gold from the rock, he plunges into the depths and disappears. After him dive the maidens. In vain. Far, far below, from Nibelheim rises the mocking laughter of Alberich, Lord of the Gold.

The scene changes. An open space on a mountain height becomes visible. The dawning day lights up a castle, glittering with pinnacles, on the top of a cliff. Below flows silent the Rhine. At one side, on a flowery bank, Wotan (Odin), king of the gods, lies sleeping, and Fricka (Frigga) his wife. They wake. Wotan turns toward his castle, new-built by the giants, and exults; but Fricka reminds him of the terrible price that is yet to be paid for its building,--none other, forsooth, than the person of Freia, the fair one, the goddess of spring and love, she who tends the garden of the gods, and whose apples, eaten from day to day, confer eternal youth,--she is the wage that the giants will claim.

"I mind me well of the bargain," returns Wotan, "but I give no thought to fulfill it. My castle stands; for the wage--fret not thyself."

"Oh, laughing, impious lightness," reproves him Fricka, "thy bargain is fast, and is still to rue."

Nay, on the moment rushes Freia to them, pleading, pursued by the giants. "Give her to us!" they cry,--Fasolt and Fafner, mighty twain that unslumbering had reared the walls of Wotan's castle, to win them a woman, winsome and sweet.

"Now pay us our wage!"

"Nay," coolly answers Wotan, "other guerdon ask. Freia may I not grant!"

But the giants insist. They accuse the god of faithlessness. He jests with them, temporizing, awaiting anxiously the arrival of Loge (Loki), spirit of cunning, at whose suggestion that bargain had been struck. For even then Loge had secretly assured Wotan that Freia should in the emergency be ransomed. The giants, indignant at the delay, press on Freia. She calls on her brothers, Froh (Freyr) and Donner (Thor). They rush to her rescue: Froh clasps the fair one; Donner plants himself before the importunates.

"Know ye the weight of my hammer's blow?" thunders he.

There is battle in the air.

Then enters Loge, demon of fire, mischief-maker, traitor, and thief, whom long ago Wotan had lifted from his evil brood and of him made a friend and counselor.

"Now hear, crabbèd one; keep thy word," says Wotan, sharply.

Loge appears to be nonplussed. He has restlessly searched to the ends of the world to find a ransom for Freia; "but naught is so rich that giant or man will take it as price for a woman's worth and delight." He has sought amid the forces of water and earth and air; "but naught is so mighty that giant or man will prefer it above a woman's worth and delight!" And yet,--slyly Loge lets fall the word,--there is the ruddy Gold:

"Yea, one I looked on, but one, who love's delights forswore, for ruddy gold renouncing the wealth of woman's grace."

And he recounts the marvels of the Rhine-gold. The giants offer to take it in lieu of Freia; nay, gods and goddesses as well are held by the charm of the glittering hoard; by the lure, and the dread too, of the Ring that, once fashioned, gives measureless might to its lord. Even now, doubtless, he who has forsworn love has muttered the magic rune and rounded the sovereign circlet of gold. If so, the gods themselves shall be his slaves,--slaves of the Nibelung Alberich.

"The ring I must win me," decides Wotan.

"But at the cost of love?" queries Froh.

Loge counsels the theft of the gold from Alberich and its restoration to the daughters of the Rhine. But the gods are not thus far-sighted, and the giants insist on the hoard as their due. They seize Freia, and bear her away as pledge till that ransom be paid....

"Alack, what aileth the gods?"

It is Loge who speaks. A pale mist falls on the scene, gradually growing denser. The light of the heavenly abodes is quenched. Wotan and all his clan become increasingly wan and aged. Freia of the Garden is departed: the apples of youth are decaying; "old and gray, worn and withered, the scoff of the world, dies out the godly race!"

"Up, Loge," calls Wotan, dismayed, "descend with me. To Nibelheim go we together. To win back our youth, the golden ransom must I gain."

The scene changes to Nibelheim, the subterranean home of the Nibelungs. Wotan and Loge find Mime, Alberich's brother, bewailing the fate of the Nibelungs--for Alberich has fashioned the Ring and all below groan under his tyranny. Even now, reluctantly indeed, Mime is forging the Tarnhelm for his tyrant brother,--a wishing-cap by whose magic the wearer may transfer himself through space and assume whatever form he please, or make himself invisible, at will. Alberich, in the flush of power, enters, driving before him with brandished whip a host of Nibelungs from the caverns. They are laden with gold and silver handiwork. At Alberich's command they heap it in a pile. He draws the Ring from his finger; the vanquished host trembles and, shrieking, cowers away.

"What seek ye here?" demands he, looking long and suspiciously at Wotan and Loge.

They have heard strange tidings, says Wotan, and they come to see the wonders that Alberich can work. Then Loge induces the Nibelung lord to exhibit the virtues of the Tarnhelm. Readily beguiled, he displays his necromantic power. First he transforms himself into a loathly dragon. The gods pretend dismay:--he can make himself great; can he make himself small, likewise? "Pah, nothing simpler! Look at me now!" He dons the Tarnhelm, and lo, a toad!

"There, grasp quickly," says Loge. Wotan places his foot on the toad, and Loge seizes the Tarnhelm. Alberich becomes visible in his own form, writhing under Wotan's foot. The gods bind him and drag him to the chasm by which they had descended.

The scene changes to the open space before Valhalla. Alberich, dragged in by Loge, is forced to deliver up the hoard and the Tarnhelm and the Ring. Wotan contemplates the Ring and puts it on. Alberich is set at liberty.

"Am I now free?" cries he, "free in sooth? Thus greets you then my freedom's foremost word: As by curse it came to me, accursed forever be this Ring! As its gold gave measureless might, let now its magic deal death to its lord. Its wealth shall yield pleasure to none. Care shall consume him who doth hold it. All shall lust after its delights; yet naught shall it boot him who wins the prize! To its lord no gain let it bring; and forever be murder drawn in its wake, till again once more in my hand, rewon, I hold it!"

So the baffled Nibelung curses, and departs. Then enter Fricka, Donner, and Froh, followed soon by the giants, who bring Freia back. They refuse, Fasolt and Fafner, to release the fair goddess until she is fully redeemed; and they claim not only Tarnhelm and gold, but Ring as well. With the Ring Wotan refuses to part. In that moment rises from a rocky cleft the goddess of the earth, Erda, the beloved of heaven's god, and mother by him of the Valkyries.

"Yield it, Wotan, yield it," she cries warningly. "Flee the Ring's dread curse."

"What woman warneth me thus?"

"All that e'er was, know I," pronounces Erda:

"How all things are; How all things shall be. Hear me! hear me! hear me! All that e'er was, endeth: A darksome day Dawns for your godhood! Be counseled; give up the Ring."

She vanishes, the all-wise one; and Wotan surrenders the Ring. Freia is redeemed, and the gods glow again with youth. No sooner have the giants gained possession of the Ring than they proceed to quarrel over it. Fafner strikes out with his staff and stretches Fasolt on the ground. From the dying man he hastily wrests the Ring, puts it into his sack, and goes on quietly packing the gold. In a solemn silence the gods stand horrified. Care and fear fetter the soul of Wotan. That he may shake himself free of them he determines to descend to Erda; she yet can give him counsel. But first,--for Donner has cleared with his thunder and lightning the clouds that had overspread the scene,--he will enter "Valhalla," his castle, golden-gleaming in the evening sunlight.

"What meaneth the name, then?" asks Fricka, as they cross the rainbow bridge.

Wotan evades the question, for he still dreads the curse pronounced by the Nibelung on all who have owned the Ring; and that name, "Valhalla," indicates just the means by which he hopes to escape the curse. He has thought to avert the doom of the gods by gathering in this Valhalla, or Hall of the Slain, the spirits of heroes fallen in battle--especially of heroes of a race that shall spring from himself, the Volsungs (or Wälsungs) yet to be born. They shall do battle for the gods when sounds the crack of doom. But of all this Wotan says naught. He will say in the hour of his triumph.

As the gods enter Valhalla the plaints of the Rhine-maidens for the loss of their gold arise from the river below.

=286.= In =The Valkyrie= Wotan proceeds with his plan. During his wanderings on earth, under the name of Wälse, he has become the father of twin children, Siegmund and Sieglinde. These have, in early youth, been separated by the murderous turmoil of warring clans, but now they are to be reunited; and Wotan, with a primitive disregard of the fact that they are brother and sister, intends to make them man and wife, in order that from them may issue the heroic race that, in the latter days, shall defend Valhalla from the onslaught of the powers of evil.

The play opens with the interior of a woodland lodge. In the center rises the stem of a mighty ash tree, about which has been built an apartment of roughly hewn logs. It is toward evening and a violent thunderstorm is just subsiding. This is the home of Hunding, chieftain of the Neiding clan. The door opens, and Siegmund, flying from his enemies, wounded and weaponless, enters. Seeing no one, he closes the door, strides toward the fire, and throws himself wearily down on a bearskin:

"Whoe'er own this hearth, Here must I rest me."

He remains stretched out motionless. A woman enters from an inner chamber. It is Sieglinde. She takes compassion on the helpless fugitive, admires his noble bearing, gives him drink, and bids him tarry till her husband be home. They gaze on each other with ever-increasing interest and emotion. Suddenly Siegmund starts up as if to go.

"Who pursues thee?" she inquires.

"Ill fate pursues where'er I go. To thee, wife, may it never come. Forth from thy house I fly."

She calls him back. "Then bide thou here. Thou canst not bring ill fate where ill fate already makes its home."

He leans against the hearth. Again the eyes of the twain meet.

Hunding enters, regards the stranger with suspicion, notes the resemblance between him and Sieglinde; but he consents to harbor him for the night.

"Thy name and fortune?"

"Wehwalt," says Siegmund, "for woe still waits on my steps; Wehwalt, the son of Wolfe." And thus concealing his race, he tells a story in other respects true: how in his childhood a cruel host had laid waste his home and killed his mother and carried away the sister who was his twin, and how he and his father, the Wolf, for years had battled in the woodlands against the Neidings.

The Neidings! They are Hunding's clan.

"My house holds thee, Wölfing, to-night. To-morrow defend thee; with death thou shalt pay for this life!" And Hunding withdraws, Sieglinde with him.

Siegmund is weaponless. The firelight sends a sudden glow on the ash tree, and a sword-hilt there sends back an answering gleam. But Siegmund knows not what it means. Clad in white, Sieglinde steals from the inner room. She has left Hunding asleep, overcome by a slumberous draft.

"Thy coming is life," cries Siegmund.

"A weapon, now, let me show thee," she replies. And she tells how, on the day of her unhappy wedding, a stranger, all in gray, low-hatted and one-eyed, had entered the Hunding hall and struck into the ash stem a sword that none but the bravest of heroes could win, and how all in turn had tried in vain to draw forth the sword. Now she knows for whom it was ordained,--

"It was for thee, my deliverer, my hero held in my arms!"

They embrace. He declares his lineage. He is son of him whose eye proudly glistened from under the low-brimmed hat,--son of Wälse, the wanderer. He is Siegmund, the Victorious. For him, the sword Nothung.--And he draws it easily forth.

"Art thou Siegmund?" she cries; "Sieglinde am I. Thine own twin sister thou winnest at once with the sword."

"Bride and sister be to thy brother; then nourish the Wälsungs for aye!"

So the twain make their compact.

In the second act we are transported to a wild and rocky place. Before Wotan, fully armed and carrying his spear, stands Brünnhilde, the warrior maid, likewise fully armed. She is one of the nine Valkyries, daughters of Wotan and Erda, fostered for battle that they might forfend the doom foretold by Erda herself,--the shameful defeat of the gods. Well have the Valkyrs, choosers of the slain, performed their task, stirring mortal hearts to battle and riding through the air above to designate the bravest for death, and with their spirits to fill the halls on Valhalla's height. Now, however, Wotan is ordering Brünnhilde to haste to the fray,--not on death's errand but on errand of life,--to shield Siegmund the Wälsung in the fight. The Valkyrie springs shouting from rock to rock, and disappears behind the mountain crags.

All seems to be arranged. But lo, Fricka, in her ram-drawn car! She descends and strides toward her scheming spouse. The goddess has heard the cry of Hunding, calling for vengeance on the twinborn pair who have rashly wrought him wrong; and as guardian of wedlock she demands the death of Siegmund in the coming conflict. Wotan tries to persuade her that Siegmund's success is needful to the gods,--the warrior band of mortal souls gathered by the Valkyries in the heights of Valhalla cannot alone suffice to avert the onslaught of the powers of darkness.

"Needed is one who, free from help of godhood, fights free of the godhead's control. Only such an one is meet for the deed which is denied to a god to achieve."

But Fricka is not to be deceived nor thwarted in her aim. She brushes aside the plea of Wotan and his subterfuge,--who has ever heard that heroes can accomplish what the gods cannot? And as for heroes unaided--none such is Siegmund.

"Who was it," she asks, "that brought him his conquering sword? and whose shield is ordained to cover him in the fight?"

"I cannot o'erthrow him," breaks out Wotan; "he has found my sword."

"Destroy its magic then," retorts the implacable queen. "Give word to thy shouting war-maid that Siegmund fall!"

Wotan is conquered. Sadly he revokes the order given to Brünnhilde.

"Then takest thou from Siegmund thy shield?" cries that one in amazement.

And the god: "Yea! though Alberich's host threaten our downfall; though again the Ring be won by the Nibelung, and Valhalla be lost forever. By bargains bound myself, I may not wrest the Ring from the foeman, from Fafner the giant. Therefore, to fulfill my purpose, I had thought to create a Free One who for me should fight. Now, with loathing, I find ever myself in all my hand has created. The Other for whom I have longed, that Other I never shall find. Himself must the Free One create him; my hand shapes nothing but slaves. For when this hand of mine touched Alberich's Ring, my heart grew greedy of gold. I fled from the curse, but the curse flies not from me. What I love best must I surrender; whom most I cherish, I must slay. One thing awaits me yet--the downfall! Yea, that portended Erda,--Erda, the all-wise.

"'When the dusky foe,' she said,--

'When the dusky foe of love Grimly getteth a son, The doom of the gods Delays not long!'

And of late I have heard that the Nibelung has bought him a wife. Their son shall inherit,--their son, the child of spite, shall inherit the empty pomp of the gods!"

It was of Hagen, yet unborn, the baleful curse of the Volsungs, of Hagen, the traitor, that Erda had prophesied. And thus dimly is foreshadowed the Twilight of the Gods.

But Brünnhilde?

"Siegmund thou hast taught me to love," murmurs the Valkyrie. Then boldly,--

"For his sake thy wavering word I defy!"

The war-father turns in wrath on this new rebellion, and on pain of eternal penalty enjoins on his daughter her new duty:

"Fight truly for Fricka! Siegmund strike thou! Such be the Valkyrie's task!"

The war-maid seeks out Siegmund and announces to him his approaching death. But that hero's distress at the thought of parting from Sieglinde stirs her to the quick. And, in the moment of battle, Brünnhilde disobeys the All-father's injunction;--she shields the warrior whom she loves. Then suddenly appears Wotan, standing over Hunding and holding his spear across in front of Siegmund.

"Go back from the spear! In splinters the sword!" shouts the god.

In terror Brünnhilde sinks back. Siegmund's sword breaks on the outstretched spear, and Hunding pierces the Volsung's breast. Brünnhilde hastily gathers the bits of the broken sword, lifts Sieglinde to horse, and escapes through the gorges behind.

The scene changes to the Valkyries' rocky home. Through the drifting clouds come riding the eight sisters of Brünnhilde, in full armor each, and each bearing before her the body of some slain hero. They await Brünnhilde. She, fleeing from Wotan's pursuit, at last arrives. She implores them to shield Sieglinde from the wrath of the god, but unsuccessfully; and then she urges Sieglinde to fly. At first, benumbed by despair, the widowed woman refuses; but when Brünnhilde mentions the child that is to be born--the world's most glorious hero--she consents.

"Him thou shalt bear, thy son and Siegmund's. For him ward thou well these mighty splinters of his father's sword. He shall weld them anew and swing the victorious blade! His name from me let him take--'Siegfried'; for Siegfried in triumph shall live!"

Comforted and hopeful, Sieglinde betakes herself to that forest far to the east, where the Nibelung's hoard had been borne by Fafner. There, in dragon's form, he guarded the gold and the Ring; and thither Wotan is not likely to pursue.

It thunders and lightens. Wotan, raging terribly, strides from crag to crag. The other Valkyries are driven from the scene. Brünnhilde hears her doom:

"The heavenly host No more shall know thee; Outcast art thou From the clan of the gods: The bond by thee has been broken; Henceforth from sight of my face art thou banned!"

Immortal, she had followed the might of love; mortal, now she shall sleep, and that sleep shall endure till one comes to awaken her; and to him, whosoe'er it may be, she shall be subject thenceforth.

The Valkyrie drops to her knees:

"Ah, let no craven awake me!" she cries. "Surround me with horrors, with fires that shall fright: that none but the most fearless of heroes may find me here on the fell!"

Wotan accedes to her petition. He kisses her on both eyes and lays her unconscious, asleep, in the shade of a broad-branching fir tree. Then,--

"Appear! Come, waving fire, And wind thee in flames round the fell! Loge, Loge, appear!"

A sea of flames encircles the spot, and Wotan proclaims:

"He who my spear-point's Sharpness feareth Shall cross not this flaming fire!"

Alone, under her long steel shield, sleeps the Valkyrie.

=287. Siegfried.= The drama of Siegfried opens in the cavern of Mime, in the forest "far to the east" to which Sieglinde had fled. Mime, the dwarf, is he whom erstwhile his Nibelung brother, Alberich, then lord of the Ring, had held in thrall at the bottom of the Rhine. Some years before the events represented in this play, the dwarf had found Sieglinde dying in the woods, and had received from her Siegfried, her new-born son, and with him the pieces of Siegmund's broken sword, Nothung.

Young Siegfried, noble, proud, and strong, has been nurtured in ignorance of his lineage and destiny, as Mime's son. But of that lineage and destiny the cunning dwarf is well aware; and while he trains Siegfried to doughty deeds, he ceaselessly forges at the splinters of the sword, hoping to reweld them himself and through Siegfried's might to win victory over Fafner, the present lord of the Ring, and so achieve unmeasured wealth and the mastery of the world. But Siegfried despises his foster-father and seeks ever to discover the story of his own descent. The attempts of Mime to shape anew the pieces of Nothung fail; and he daily forges other swords, which Siegfried scorns and breaks at the first trial. In the course of time, however, there comes to Mime's cave a "Wanderer"--it is Wotan himself--and tells the dwarf that only one, a man who knows not fear, can remake the all-conquering sword.

He tells him, too, of the mighty spear, fashioned of the world ash tree's hallowed branches, with which he, Wotan, rules the earth. But no word he says of the doom that is to befall that spear at the blow of the conquering sword,--the doom, forsooth, of the gods themselves.

Mime, after trying in vain to arouse in Siegfried the sense of fear, suggests to the youth that he try to reforge Nothung. Siegfried seizes the splinters, pounds them, and files them to powder; melts them over the charcoal of the ash tree's stem, and, singing at his work, refashions the sword. While this is doing, through the pauses of Siegfried's song can be heard the voice of Mime, muttering: "The sword will be forged... and Fafner vanquished.... When Siegfried has slain that dragon... he will be athirst.... I will brew him a drink.... One drop will lay him in sleep.... With the sword that he forges I'll kill him.... Mine, then, the Ring and the hoard!"

At last the sword is shaped and sharpened. Siegfried swings it before him:

"Nothung, Nothung, conquering sword; again to life have I woke thee! Strike at the traitor, cut down the knave! See, Mime, thou smith; so sunders Siegfried's sword!" and he strikes the anvil in twain from top to bottom. It falls asunder with a great noise, and the dwarf drops with terror to the ground.

The scene changes to the forest in front of Fafner's cave. Alberich is watching gloomily by, and the Wanderer rides in to taunt him with false hope of the Ring.

"A hero nears to set free the hoard," says the Wanderer. "Fafner will fall. Perchance if Alberich warn the dragon, he may win the Ring in token of gratitude."

Alberich makes the approaches. Fafner yawns: "I have and I hold; let me slumber!"

With scornful laughter the Wanderer rides away. But "one day," snarls Alberich,--"one day shall I see you all fade, ye light-hearted eternals. The wise one keepeth his watch and surely worketh his spite!"

As the day breaks Siegfried and Mime enter, Siegfried wearing his sword hung in a girdle of rope, and blithely blowing a horn. Fafner, in the shape of a huge lizardlike dragon, comes out of his cave and forward to the stream for water. At sight of the nonchalant youth piping his wood-notes gay, the monster emits a snort that serves his need of a laugh,--"I came for drink; now, too, I find food."

The conflict is speedily joined. More than once Siegfried is well-nigh lost; but his chance comes. The dragon exposes his heart, and Siegfried sinks his sword into it up to the hilt. In the moment of death, Fafner warns the young hero to beware of him who stirred him to the fight. But Siegfried pays little heed. The blood of the dragon bespatters his hand; it burns. Siegfried involuntarily carries his hand to his lips. There is a wood bird singing. Siegfried regards him with astonishment. "Almost," he says, "it seems as wood birds were speaking to me," and he hearkens.

"Hei!" sings the wood bird; "now Siegfried owns all the Nibelung's hoard. Let him but search the cavern, and hoard, Tarnhelm, and Ring will make him the lord of the world!"

"Thanks, dearest birdling," Siegfried replies, and possesses himself of Tarnhelm and Ring. The hoard he leaves where it was.

"Hei!" sings the wood bird; "Ring and Tarnhelm Siegfried has won. Now let him not trust the treacherous tongue of the falsest of friends!"

No sooner is that warning given than Mime, who has meanwhile been wrangling with Alberich over the division of the spoils, creeps forward.

"See, thou art weary; drink of the broth I have brewed, and take rest," he says smilingly to Siegfried. But under his breath he is muttering, "Drink, and choke thee to death," as he pours the draft into the drink horn and offers it.

"Taste thou my sword, loathsome babbler!" cries the young hero, and strikes him dead at a blow; then pitches his body on top of the hoard and stops up the mouth of the cave with the grinning corpse of the dragon.

"Thanks, friendliest birdling! But happiness yet have I not. Brothers and sisters hast thou; but I--am so alone; nor brother nor sister, nor father nor mother. One comrade had I; he laid out to catch me, and now I have slain him, perforce. Ah, birdling, find me a comrade true!"

"Hei!" chatters the wood bird; "a glorious bride for Siegfried have I. On a rocky fastness she sleeps, and guarded by fire is her home. Who fighteth the flames wakens the maid; Brünnhilde, Brünnhilde, he wins for his own!"

"Where'er thou fliest, follows my foot," shouts Siegfried, bubbling with joy.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

The scene changes. In a wild spot at the foot of a rocky mountain Wotan, the Wanderer, desiring the success of Siegfried and still knowing that that success involves the doom of the gods, seeks counsel from Erda. The all-wise one refuses to answer,--refers him to the Norns. "The Norns are waking, they wind the rope. The Norns will give thee answer!"

"Ah, no!" replies the Wanderer. "Their weaving is ever in thrall to fate. To thee I come that I may learn how to stay the wheel that is already rolling."

"Ask Brünnhilde!"

"In vain, All-wise One; the piercing sting of care was planted by thee. Ruin and downfall were foretold by thee. Say to me, now, how a god may conquer his care!"

"Thou art--not what thou hast said." No more will Erda vouchsafe.

Not what he has said! Then, surely, the gods are beyond redemption. But not even so shall the harvest be reaped by the Nibelungs. "Nay, to the Volsung shall be my heritage," decrees Wotan: "to him who has known me never, though chosen by me; to the lad of dauntless daring, though untaught by my counsel. Pure from greed, gladdened by love-dreams, he has won the Nibelung's Ring. Against him the curse of Alberich cannot avail."

While yet the Wanderer is speaking, Erda descends to endless sleep. Dawn illumines the scene. Siegfried's bird comes fluttering to the foreground, but, frighted by vision of the god, takes wing and disappears. Siegfried presses on.

"My birdling has flown from my eyes," he remarks. "I needs must find out the rock for myself."

"The way that the wood bird pointed," announces Wotan, encountering him, "shalt thou not pass!"

"Ho ho! Wouldst thou stay me? Who art thou, then, that here withstandest?"

"Fear the fell's defender! By my might the slumbering maid is held enchained. He who should wake her, he who should win her, mightless would make me forever. Go back, then, foolhardy boy!"

As the Wanderer speaks, the splendor spreads from the flame-girdled rock above.

"Go back thyself, thou babbler! There where the fires are blazing,--to Brünnhilde now must I hie!" And Siegfried pushes forward.

The Wanderer bars the way to the mountain: "Once already that sword of thine, Nothung, has broken on the haft of this sacred spear!"

"'Tis, then, my father's slayer!" thinks Siegfried; and nothing loath to face that foe, he raises the new-forged sword and strikes to pieces the All-father's spear!

"Fare on," says Wotan, quietly picking up the fragments, "I cannot withstand thee."

The god vanishes in darkness. The hero, light-hearted, blowing his horn, scales the cliffs, passes the fire,--wakes Brünnhilde. She, at first, with maidenly might struggles against his passion for her and her growing tenderness for him. She deplores the byrnie, shield and helm, symbols of her godhead, that he has torn from her. But, mortal now, she surrenders to a mortal's love:

"O Siegfried, Siegfried, child of delight, Love thyself,--and turn thee from me; Oh, bring not thine own to naught!"

And Siegfried:

"I--love thee: didst thou but love me!

Mine am I no more: oh, would that thou wert mine!...

Waken, O maid; live in laughter:

Sweetest delight, be mine, be mine!"

Then she, with a joyful cry:

"Oh, child of delight! Oh, glorious hero! Thou foolish lord of loftiest deeds! Laughing must I love thee, Laughing welcome my blindness; Laughing let us be lost, With laughter go down to death.... Farewell, Valhalla's light-giving world: Thy stately towers let fall in dust! Farewell, O glittering pomp of the gods! Complete your bliss, eternal host! Now rend, ye Norns, your rope of runes: Dusk of Gods in darkness arise; Night of downfall dawn in mist!"

And thus, turning their backs on Valhalla, and radiant with the light of human love, the twain, laughing, face toward death.

=288. The Twilight of the Gods.= The play opens with a prelude. By the Valkyrie's rock sit the three Norns and sing of past, present, and future, weaving through the night their rope of runes. As they foretell the burning of Valhalla and the end of the gods, the rope breaks, and the Norns disappear into the earth.

The sun rises, and in the first act of the play Siegfried and Brünnhilde enter from their cave. She sends him forth in quest of heroic adventures in the world, giving him her horse, Grane, and receiving from him the Ring as a pledge of his love.

The scene changes, and we behold the interior of the Gibichungs' hall on the Rhine. Gunther and Gutrune, his sister, are in converse with Hagen, their half brother,--dark and treacherous son of Grimhilde, their mother, and of Alberich the Nibelung, erstwhile owner of the Ring. Hagen alone knows, it would seem, that Siegfried has already ridden through the flames and won Brünnhilde. The others know merely that that hero has slain Fafner and is lord of the Tarnhelm, hoard, and Ring. Hagen, anxious to regain the heritage of the Nibelungs, urges marriage on Gunther, naming Brünnhilde as a fitting bride for him. As, however, Siegfried alone can pass through the fire to come at her, he proposes that Gutrune shall win Siegfried's love and induce him to serve Gunther. Siegfried's horn is heard, and he presently enters and is made welcome.

Gutrune, at the instigation of Hagen, brings Siegfried a potion which causes him to love her, and drives clean out of his mind all memory of Brünnhilde. In the madness of his passion for Gutrune, Siegfried swears blood-brotherhood with Gunther, and promises by the aid of the Tarnhelm to make Brünnhilde Gunther's wife, if only in return Gutrune shall be his. The newly sworn "brothers" depart for Brünnhilde's rock.

In the next scene we are again before the home of Brünnhilde. Waltraute, a Valkyrie, comes to beg Brünnhilde to give back the Ring to the Rhine-maidens, and so avert the doom of the gods.

"What, then, aileth the immortals?" cries Brünnhilde in alarm.

"Since Wotan doomed thee, no more hath he sent us to war," replies Waltraute. "No more hath he gathered the souls of the slain about him in Valhalla. Alone he has ridden unceasing through the world. But, one day, home he came bearing his spear all splintered in his hand. Wordless, with a sign he bade Valhalla's heroes hew the world ash tree in pieces and pile it like firewood around the Hall of the Blest. And from that hour silent he sits on his throne, about him the awe-struck gods and heroes, the war-maids cowering at his knees. None tastes the apples of youth. To-day Wotan remembered thee; his eye grew soft and, as dreaming, he spake:

'If once more the daughters of Rhine Should win from her finger the Ring, Of the load of the curse Were the world and immortals made free.'

Brünnhilde, yield up the Ring, and end all the grief of the world!"

"The Ring?" wails Brünnhilde. "Knowest thou what 'tis to me? One flash of its fire outvalues all heaven's delight; for the gleam of that Ring is Siegfried's love!

"From love I never shall turn; Of his love they never shall rob me, Though into ruins Valhalla's splendor should fall!"

Thus Brünnhilde refuses, and sends Waltraute away to take her defiance to Valhalla.

But retribution is swift, for on the moment Siegfried, changed to Gunther's shape by the Tarnhelm, comes and claims Brünnhilde as his bride. She resists and threatens him with the Ring. But now Siegfried, forgetful of the past, struggles for another with his own dear wife, overcomes her, and wrests the Ring from her. He then commands her to go into the cave, whither, after drawing his sword to lay between them as symbol of his loyalty to Gunther, he follows her.

The second act is outside the Gibichungs' hall. It is early morning of the next day. After a short scene in which the ever-plotting Alberich urges Hagen to get the Ring, Siegfried returns and tells Hagen and Gutrune of the winning of Brünnhilde and her approach with Gunther. Hagen calls together the vassals to welcome Gunther and his bride. The royal pair presently arrive and are received with loud acclaim. Straightway Brünnhilde recognizes Siegfried (who, however, does not know her) and, seeing the Ring on Siegfried's finger, she asks Gunther what he has done with the ring he took from her. His confusion reveals the truth to her, and she proclaims that she is wedded to Siegfried and not to Gunther. Siegfried swears on the point of Hagen's spear that her accusation is false. She repeats it, taking the same oath.

Siegfried, Gutrune, and their vassals go out to prepare for the double wedding celebration; Gunther, Hagen, and Brünnhilde remaining solemnly condemn Siegfried to death for what seems treachery to one and all. Hagen, left alone, glories in the prospect of regaining the Ring.

The third act discloses an open place on the banks of the Rhine. The three Rhine-maidens pray to the sun for the return of the Rhine-gold. Siegfried, who has strayed from his companions on a hunting expedition, comes to the river bank. The maidens unsuccessfully attempt, by wiles and warnings of ill fate, to get the Ring from him, and finally swim away, foretelling his death that very day. Gunther, Hagen, and their vassals come to the place, and all sit down to rest. At Hagen's suggestion Siegfried relates the story of his life. when he comes to the episode of his first passage through the fire, a draft given him by Hagen restores his memory, and innocently he tells of the waking and winning of Brünnhilde. All start up in amaze; Hagen stabs Siegfried in the back with his spear, and steals away. Siegfried falls, and after a few words sung to Brünnhilde, whom he sees as in a vision, he dies.

His body is placed on a bier and borne away by the vassals with great pomp and state as the sun sets.

In the last scene we have the interior of the Gibichungs' hall as before. It is night. Gutrune comes from her chamber anxious for Siegfried. Presently Hagen's voice is heard calling for torches to light the returning hunters. He enters and, in reply to Gutrune's questions, tells her that Siegfried has been slain by a wild boar. Then come the vassals, bearing Siegfried's body. It is placed on a bier in the center of the hall. Hagen claims the Ring as his right for slaying Siegfried, but Gunther defies him to touch Gutrune's heritage. They fight and Gunther falls. As Hagen approaches the corpse to take the Ring, the dead Siegfried raises his arm threateningly. All start back in horror, and just then Brünnhilde enters and comes down to the bier. Here, after ordering a pyre to be built on the river bank, she sings a funeral song over Siegfried. The body, from which she has taken the Ring, is then placed on the pyre.

Setting the Ring on her own finger, Brünnhilde calls on the Rhine-maidens to take it in turn from her ashes:

"Let fire, burning this hand Cleanse, too, the Ring from its curse."

She applies the torch:

"So cast I the brand On Valhall's glittering walls.-- When ye see in the kindling fire, Siegfried and Brünnhild' consumed; When ye see the river-daughters Bear the Ring away to the deep: To northward then Look through the night! When the heaven there gleams With a holy glow, Then know ye all That Valhall's end ye behold!"

Her horse is brought. She mounts it and springs into the flames, which flare up and seize on the hall itself. The river overflows and rolls over the fire. The Rhine-maidens swim up and regain the Ring. Hagen rushes into the flood to get it from them, but is dragged down to the depths by their arms as they swim away. In the sky is seen a vision of Valhalla in flames.

The breed of the gods is gone like breath. The loveless Ring has worked its curse. Each in his turn its lords have bitten the dust. And Brünnhilde reads the moral:

"Not goods nor gold Nor glory of gods Can fashion a blessing for weal, Can win a blessing from woe,-- But Love alone!"

FOOTNOTES:

[374] For the translations of the Ring, especially the verse, I am indebted to the edition of Frederick Jameson (Schott & Co., London).

THE HISTORY OF MYTH.

=289. Typer myter.= Hvis vi klassifiserer de foregående historiene etter grunnen til deres eksistens, ser vi at de er av to slag – forklarende og estetiske.

(1) Forklarende myter er resultatet av naive gjetninger på sannheten, av feilaktige og overtroiske forsøk på å tilfredsstille nysgjerrigheten til primitive og uopplyste folk, å avdekke tilværelsens mysterier, gjøre klart universets fakta og livets erfaringer, gjøre rede for religiøse riter og sosiale skikker hvis opprinnelse er glemt, å lære meningen og historien til ting. Det er visse spørsmål som nesten hvert barn og enhver villmann stiller: Hva er verden og hva er mennesket? Hvem skapte dem? Hva annet gjorde skaperen? Og hva med de første menneskene? Hvor kom livets goder fra? Hvorfor feirer vi visse fester, praktiserer visse seremonier, overholder høytideligheter og deltar i sakramenter, og bøyer oss for denne eller hin gud? Hva er døden, og hva blir det av oss etter døden?

Svarene på slike spørsmål krystalliserte seg gradvis til historier om skapelsen, om gudene og om heltene – menneskenes forfedre, men forstørret, fordi de var ukjente, mystiske og fjerne.

Gammel litteratur bugner av forklarende myter av så rik fantasi at vi moderne mennesker fristes til å lese inn i dem meninger som de sannsynligvis aldri hadde. For de ulike og motstridende betydningene som i de senere år er blitt foreslått for én og samme myte, kunne ikke alle, på noe tidspunkt, ha vært underholdt av myteskaperne. På den annen side er de gjeldende forklaringene av visse myter tilstrekkelig åpenbare til å være sannsynlige. «For de gamle,» sier John Fiske,[375] «var månen ikke en livløs masse av stein og jord; den var den hornede jegerinnen Artemis, som jaget gjennom den øvre eter eller badet seg i den klare sjø; eller den var Afrodite, elskendes beskytterinne, født av havskummet i øst, nær Kypros.

Skyene var ikke masser av fordampet vann; de var kyr med svulmende jur, drevet til melking av Hermes, sommervinden; eller store sauer med fuktig ull, drept av solens usvikelige piler, Bellerofons; eller svanejomfruer som flagret over himmelhvelvingen; valkyrjer som svevde over slagmarken for å motta falne helters sjeler; eller, igjen, de var mektige fjell, stablet over hverandre, i hvis underjordiske fordypninger stormguden Tors tryllestav avslørte skjulte skatter. Den gullhårede solen, Foebus, kjørte vestover hele dagen i sin flammende vogn; eller, kanskje, som Meleager, trakk seg for en stund i avsky tilbake fra menneskenes åsyn; forenet seg ved aftenstid med det fiolette lyset (Oenone, Iole) som han hadde forlatt om morgenen; sank som Herkules på et brennende gravbål, eller, som Agamemnon, omkom i et blodfarget bad; eller, som fiskeguden Dagon, svømte hver natt gjennom de underjordiske farvannene for å vise seg i øst igjen ved daggry.

Noen ganger ville Faeton, hans ubesindige, uerfarne sønn, ta tømmene og kjøre solvognen for nær jorden, slik at fruktene visnet, gresset tørket og brønnene tørket ut. Noen ganger også ville den store allseende guddommen, i sin vrede over menneskenes ugudelighet, skyte sine brennende piler og forårsake pest over landet.»

(2) Estetiske myter har sin opprinnelse i det universelle ønsket om underholdning, i sinnets aversjon mot hverdagens trivialitet. De gir informasjon som kanskje ikke er praktisk, men er frydefull; de fremkaller følelser – sympati, tårer og latter – for skikkelser og hendelser fjernt fra vår hverdagslige erfaring, men nær tingenes hjerte, og nære og betydningsfulle og forheksende for oss i fantasiens atmosfære som omslutter adskilte kontinenter, blåser liv i de døde, gir farge og ånde til drømmens skapninger, og hyller unge og gamle i undringen over å høre noe nytt. Den estetiske myten fjerner oss først fra den smålige verdenen av umiddelbare og egoistiske behov, og ruller deretter ut et syn av en verden der mennesker og ting eksisterer kun for å glede oss. Og det vedvarende mål av glede som den estetiske myten gir, er prøven på det vi kaller dens skjønnhet.

En myte, enten den er forklarende eller estetisk, er av ubevisst vekst, nesten aldri uttenkt med henblikk på belæring.

Etter sitt emne er estetiske myter enten historiske eller romantiske. (a) Hvis historiske, benytter de seg av hendelser som har et skjelett av fakta. De gir kjøtt og sener av guddommelig eller heroisk eventyr og karakter, blod og ånde av sannsynlighet og fantasi. I historiske myter er guders, helters og hendelsers avhengighet av den strenge nødvendighet av en overstyrende makt, av skjebne eller forsyn, særlig å bemerke. Av denne klassen er Homers Iliade.

(b) Hvis romantiske, kjennetegnes mytene av dristigere utvalg eller skapelse av grunnleggende hendelser; faktisk synes hendelser å være valgt med henblikk på å vise eller utvikle heltens karakter. I slike myter er omstendighetene ikke så viktige som hva helten gjør med omstendighetene. Helten er mer uavhengig enn i den historiske myten; hans frihet, hans valg – i dømmekraft, i handling og i følelse – hans ansvar, er i sentrum for interessen. I romantiske myter som Odysseen fører ikke denne frihetsfølelsen dikteren til lunefull bruk av sitt materiale. Men mindre skalder enn Homer har tillatt sine helter å løpe løpsk i eventyr som tretter fantasien og krenker den moralske dømmekraften.

=290. Forskningsområder.= Vi ledes dernest til å spørre hvordan disse mytene kom til, og hvordan det kan ha seg at den samme myten møter oss i ulike former i litteraturer og blant folk vidt skilt i tid og sted. Dette er spørsmål om mytenes opprinnelse og utbredelse; og i dette kapitlet skal vi drøfte det første.

=291. Mytenes elementer.= De mytene som er bevart i litteraturene til mange siviliserte nasjoner, slik som den greske, frembyr for den fantasifulle og moralske sans sider som er fulle av motsetninger. I visse myter fremstår gudene som vakre, vise og velgjørende vesener; i andre hengir de seg til grusomme, tåpelige og uskjønne handlinger og eventyr. Disse motstridende elementene har blitt kalt de fornuftige og de meningsløse. En myte om Moder Jord (Demeter) som sørger over tapet av sin datter, Våren, er fornuftig; en myte om Demeter som i åndsfraværelse fortærer skulderen til gutten Pelops og erstatter den med elfenben, er lunefull, tilsynelatende meningsløs. «Det er dette tåpelige, meningsløse og ville elementet,» sier Max Müller, «som gjør mytologien til det puslespillet mennesker så lenge har funnet den å være.»

=292. Fornuftige myter.= Hvis myter alltid var fornuftige, ville det ikke være vanskelig å komme til enighet om en måte de kan ha oppstått på.

_ Hvis vi antar at folkene som oppfant disse historiene om overnaturlige vesener og hendelser, med tilbørlig hensyn til forskjellen i mental utvikling, hadde fantasier som våre egne, er det ingenting i de fornuftige mytenes historie som overgår vår forståelse. For i dag tillegger ikke bare barn og enkle sjeler, som sjøfolk eller fjellboere, men også kultiverte mennesker med alminnelig poetisk følsomhet, livets egenskaper til livløse ting og abstrakte ideer. Solen er nå for tiden tørst, skipet er en kvinne, skyene truer, nestekjærligheten er tålmodig, bølgene er sinte, tiden vil vise, og døden sluker alle ting. Solen står fortsatt opp, og, som Mr. Jasper hevder, «den beveger seg.» Gjennom personifikasjon tillegger vi hver dag menneskelige egenskaper til livløs natur, dyr og abstraksjoner.

Gjennom våre metaforer opprettholder og sprer vi den poetiske illusjonen; vi snakker kanskje ikke om Apollons piler, men om solstikk; vår poesi flommer over av symboler for månen, den vingesnare vinden, det rovlystne havet. I våre metonymier bruker vi tegnet for det betegnede, kronen for kongen, flagget for landets ære; og kronen og flagget er i dag i besittelse av egenskaper og individualitet like effektivt som de som utstyrte Vulkanus' gylne terner eller Jupiters ørn. Heller ikke er hyperboler mindre i bruk hos oss enn de var hos de gamle; vi forherliger våre politiske helter med superlativer, de opphøyet sine til guddommelighet.

_ Men denne likheten i fantasiens vaner, selv om den kan hjelpe oss å forstå primitive folks mentale tilstand, understreker forskjellen mellom vår fantasi og deres. De, på et eller annet tidspunkt, trodde på disse personifikasjonene. Vi tror ikke. Men deres tro er lettere å begripe når vi husker at villmenns myter ikke er en bevisst oppspinn av noe enkeltindivid, men er bygget opp av generasjoner av mennesker, og at mange av dem kretser om vesener som faktisk ble tilbedt. Blant primitive nasjoner er ærefrykten i nærvær av storslåtte naturobjekter – fjell, himmelen, solen, havet – universell. Den springer ut av at villmenn ikke anser seg som naturen overlegne. De er seg ikke bevisste sjelene hvis flukt er høyere enn naturens. Tvert imot, siden sol, hav og vinder beveger seg, tillegger villmannen dem fri vilje og personlighet som menneskets.

Men i den grad deres størrelse er større eller deres bevegelse mer voldsom, må disse objektene være i besittelse av frihet, personlighet og makt som overgår menneskets. Hvorfor skulle da ikke villmannen tro, om vesener verdig tilbedelse og frykt og takknemlighet, alt og mer enn alt som tilskrives mennesket? Hvorfor ikke gi dem menneskelige og overmenneskelige lidenskaper og krefter? Hvis vi levde, som grekeren i gamle dager, tett innpå naturens hjerte, ville en slik personifikasjon av naturkrefter være lettere for oss å forstå.

«Hvis for oss også, som for grekeren,» sier Ruskin,[376] «soloppgang betyr daglig fornyelse av følelsen av lidenskapelig glede og fullkomment liv – hvis den betyr gysningen av ny styrke gjennom enhver nerve, – utøsingen over oss av en bedre fred enn nattens fred, i morgenrødens kraft, – og renselsen av onde syner og frykt gjennom dens duggs dåp; – hvis solen selv er en innflytelse, for oss også, av åndelig gode, – og dermed blir i virkeligheten, ikke i fantasien, for oss også, en åndelig makt, – da kan vi snart overskride den trange grensen for forestilling som holdt denne makten upersonlig, og stige med grekeren til tanken om en engel som frydet seg som en sterk mann til å løpe sin bane, hvis stemme, som kalte til liv og arbeid, runget rundt jorden, og hvis utgang var til himmelens ender.»

Når vi slik betrakter villmannens religiøse tilstand, kan vi forstå eksistensen av myter og hans aksept av dem.

=293. Ufornuftige myter.= Men han ville opprettholde denne aksepten bare når det gjaldt gode og velgjørende guder og rettferdige eller fornuftige myter.

For hvordan kunne et menneske tro om den guden han tilba og æret, gjerninger og egenskaper mer tåpelige og skammelige enn mennesket kan forestille seg om sin medmenneske? Når vi derfor finner meningsløse og skamløse myter side om side med fortellinger om den samme gudens rettferdighet og rettskaffenhet, må vi konkludere at, siden tilbederen ikke kunne tro på begge sett av egenskaper, bevarte han sin religiøse holdning overfor den gode guden kun i kraft av å avvise den meningsløse myten.

En manns religiøse tro ville hjelpe ham å underholde bare de fornuftige mytene. Hvordan oppsto da de meningsløse og grusomme historiene? Og ble de noen gang trodd?

Det er mange svar på disse spørsmålene. De kan dog klassifiseres i henhold til den teori om sivilisasjon som de forutsetter.

I følge teorien om forfall, eller menneskelig fordervelse, har mennesket, skjønt det i begynnelsen hadde kunnskap om vanlige fakta, rene moralske og religiøse ideer, og sanne poetiske forestillinger, med tidens løp glemt betydningen av ord, fakta, menn og hendelser, antatt korrupte moralske og religiøse forestillinger, og gitt fritt spillerom for den syke innbilningskraften til usanne og uskjønne unnfangelser.

I følge teorien om forbedring, eller fremskritt, har mennesket, begynnende med rå drømmer og innfall om erfaring, livet, verden og Gud, gradvis utviklet sannere og høyere forestillinger om sin egen natur, om sitt forhold til verden omkring seg, om plikt, om kunst og om religion.

=294. Forfallsteorien.= La oss først betrakte de tolkningene av mytologien som antar en tilbakegående tendens i tidlig sivilisasjon. De er:

(1) Den historiske, eller bedre kalt etter sin opphavsmann, Euhemerus (f.Kr. 316), den evhemeristiske. Denne forklaringen antar at myter om gudene er overdrevne eventyr av historiske individer, høvdinger, medisinmenn, helter; og at overnaturlige hendelser er fordreininger av naturlige, men forunderlige foreteelser. Faktisk tilskriver den våre forfedre en hukommelsessykdom som fikk dem til å forvrenge fakta. Jupiter, Odin og Herkules var følgelig mennesker som etter døden var blitt forherliget, deretter guddommeliggjort, deretter utstyrt med tallrike egenskaper og eventyr passende for deres opphøyde eksistenstilstander.

Skikken med å dyrke forfedre, fortsatt eksisterende i Kina og andre land, anføres til støtte for denne metoden å undersøke myter på, og det er utvilsomt sant at metoden forklarer opprinnelsen og veksten til noen myter. Men den gjør snarere rede for det fornuftige enn det meningsløse elementet i mytiske eventyr, mens den unnlater å vise hvordan villmenn kommer til å overdrive sine helter til vesener helt utenfor det virkelige erfaringsområdet som er grunnlaget for den historiske antagelsen.

(2) Den filologiske fortolkningen[377] antar også en hukommelsessykdom på grunn av hvilken mennesker misforstår og forveksler ordenes betydninger, og feilanvender ordene selv. Professor Max Müller kaller denne lidelsen en språksykdom. I gamle språk hadde ethvert slikt ord som dag, natt, jord, sol, vår, daggry en endelse som uttrykte kjønn, hvilket naturlig frembrakte den tilsvarende idéen om kjønn. Disse objektene ble følgelig i generasjonenes løp ikke bare personer, men hankjønn og hunkjønn. I og med at også uttrykkene som beskrev eksistensen eller aktiviteten til disse naturlige objektene mistet sin gamle betydning under ny dagligtales fargelegging, fikk primitive og enkle utsagn om naturlige hendelser drakten og verdigheten til omstendelige og ofte inkongrue fortellinger, ikke lenger om naturlige hendelser, men om personer. Gammelt språk kan for eksempel ha sagt at soloppgang følger etter daggry.

Ordet for sol var hankjønn; ordet for daggry, hunkjønn. Med tiden kom setningen til å bety at Apollo, solguden, jager Dafne, jomfruen av det glødende daggryet. Men ordet Dafne betydde også en laurbær som brant lett, følgelig kunne den lett vies til solguden. »[379]

Men uheldigvis hersker det svært ofte ingen enighet blant lærde om den opprinnelige meningen til mytiske veseners navn. Det samme navnet blir ofte forklart på en halv snes forskjellige måter. Den samme guddommen reduseres av ulike fortolkere til en halv snes naturelementer. En viss gudinne representerer snart den øvre luft, snart lys, snart lyn, og atter andre ganger skyer. Naturligvis må forsøkene på å utlegge hennes eventyr ende i tilsvarende ulike og lite overbevisende resultater. Kort sagt, den filologiske forklaringen forutsetter som sitt utgangspunkt hankjønns- og hunkjønnsnavn for naturobjekter. Den forsøker ikke å vise hvordan et objekt som havet kom til å være hankjønn og ikke hunkjønn, eller hvordan det i det hele tatt kom til å være en person. Og dette siste bør, i studiet av mytenes opprinnelse, først fastslås.

Vi må dog ikke begå den feilen å anta at filologene søker alle myters opprinnelse og vekst i ord og ordenes sykdommer. Max Müller innrømmer at mytologien ikke alltid skaper sine egne helter, men noen ganger griper fatt i virkelig historie. Han insisterer på at mytologer bør huske at det i enhver mytologisk gåte kan finnes elementer som motstår etymologisk analyse, av den enkle grunn at deres opprinnelse ikke var etymologisk, men historisk.

(3) Den allegoriske fortolkningen er beslektet med den filologiske i sine resultater. Den leder oss til å forklare myter som legemliggjørelser i symbolsk drakt av skjult mening: av fysiske, kjemiske eller astronomiske fakta; eller av moralsk, religiøs, filosofisk sannhet. Historiene ville først eksistere som allegorier, men med tiden ville de komme til å bli forstått bokstavelig. Slik identifiseres Kronos, som fortærer sine egne barn, med den makten som grekerne kalte Chronos (Tiden), hvilket sannelig kan sies å ødelegge hva det har brakt til eksistens. Historien om Io blir tolket på lignende måte. Io er månen, og Argus den stjerneklare himmelen, som liksom holder søvnløs vakt over henne. Ios fabelaktige vandringer representerer månens stadige omdreininger. , og dyktige i allegori; men at, av en eller annen ukjent grunn, deres etterkommere ble dumme, og kunnskap så vel som vidd forlot rasen.

I noen tilfeller var myten utvilsomt fra først av en allegori; men der myten var bevisst formet som en allegori, ble den etter all sannsynlighet bevart som sådan. Det er dog ikke sannsynlig at allegorier av dyp vitenskapelig eller filosofisk betydning ble oppfunnet av villmenn. Der myten bærer ethvert tegn på svært høy alder – er særlig tåpelig og meningsløs og vill – er det trygt å tro at enhver dyp allegorisk mening som leses inn i den, er et verk av menn av en senere generasjon, som dermed forsøkte å gjøre de guddommelige og heroiske fortellingene som de ellers ikke kunne rettferdiggjøre, og hvis eksistens de skammet seg over, fornuftige. Vi finner dessuten i noen tilfeller en rekke symbolske forklaringer av den samme myten, den ene med like stort krav på tiltro som den andre, siden de springer ut av samme kilde – fortolkerens lunefullhet eller innfall.

Blant de gamle foreslo Theagenes fra Rhegium, seks hundre år før Kristus, den allegoriske teorien og fortolkningsmetoden. I moderne tid har han fått støtte av Lord Bacon, hvis «De gamles visdom» behandler myter som «elegante og lærerike fabler», og av mange tyskere, særlig professor Creuzer.

_ Denne forutsetter at menneskeheten, enten i sin alminnelighet eller gjennom en utvalgt nasjonalitet, mottok fra Gud en opprinnelig åpenbaring av rene religiøse ideer, og at, med den systematiske og vedvarende fordervelsen av den moralske sans, denne kunnskapen om sannhet, moral og åndelig religion forfalt. Slik ville egenskapene til de ulike gudene i gresk mytologi være ufullkomne utstrålinger av den ene Guds egenskaper. En mer begrenset forestilling er at alle mytologiske legender stammer fra Skriftens fortellinger, skjønt de virkelige fakta er blitt tildekket og forandret. Slik er Devkalion bare et annet navn for Noa, Herkules for Samson, Arion for Jona, osv. Sir Walter Raleigh sier i sin «Verdenshistorie»: «Jubal, Tubal og Tubal-Kain var Merkur, Vulkan og Apollo, oppfinnere av beite, smedarbeid og musikk. Dragen som voktet de gylne eplene, var slangen som forførte Eva. Nimrods tårn var kjempenes forsøk mot himmelen.»

Det er utvilsomt mange pussige sammentreff som disse, men teorien kan ikke, uten overdrivelse, drives så langt at den gjør rede for noen stor andel av historiene. For mange myter er eldre enn de skriftfortellinger som de sies å være kopier av; mange flere, selv om de ligner de skriftlige historiene, oppsto blant folk uvitende om den hebraiske Bibelen. Teorien hviler på to ubeviste antagelser: den ene, at alle nasjoner har hatt en sjanse til å bli påvirket av det samme settet av religiøse doktriner; den andre, at Gud gjorde sin åpenbaring i begynnelsen én gang for alle, og ikke har gjort noe for å hjelpe mennesket mot rettferdighet siden den gang. [380]

= Vi er nå rede for forklaringen av mytedannelse basert på =Fremskrittsteorien=. Den er best formulert av Mr. Andrew Lang,[381] hvis argument, når mulig, gjengis med hans egne ord. På spørsmålet om hvordan det meningsløse elementet kom inn i mytene, svarer talsmennene for denne teorien at det fantes i sinnene og i den sosiale tilstanden til de villmennene som oppfant mytene. Men siden vi ikke kan sette oss tilbake i historien tusener av år for å undersøke tidlige villmenns tanke- og levevaner, er vi nødt til å undersøke om det noe sted i dag kan eksistere «noe stadium av den menneskelige intellekt der disse guddommelige eventyrene og forvandlingene av mennesker til dyr, trær, stjerner, denne troen på å se og snakke med de døde, blir ansett som mulige hendelser i dagliglivet.»

Som et resultat av slik vitenskapelig granskning er det funnet tallrike raser av villmenn som på denne dag aksepterer og tror nettopp slike tåpelige og meningsløse myteelementer som forundrer oss og har forundret mange av de kultiverte gamle som fant dem i sine overleverte mytologier. Utviklingsteorien går da ut på at «det ville og meningsløse elementet i mytologien for det meste er en arv fra forfedre til siviliserte raser som, på den tiden de oppfant de meningsløse historiene, befant seg i en intellektuell tilstand som ikke var høyere enn våre samtidige australiere, buskmenn, rødhuder, de lavere rasene i Sør-Amerika og andre verre enn barbariske folk i det nittende århundre.» Men hva er kjennetegnene på den mentale tilstanden til våre samtidige villmenn?

Først og fremst, nysgjerrighet som driver dem til å spørre etter tingenes årsaker; og dernest, godtroenhet som driver dem til å finne opp eller akseptere barnslige historier som kan tilfredsstille deres ulærde erfaring. Vi finner dessuten at villmenn i dag tenker på alt omkring seg som havende liv og delene og lidenskapene til personer lik dem selv. «Himmelen, solen, vinden, havet, jorden, fjellene, trærne, betraktet som personer, er blandet opp med menn, dyr, stjerner og steiner på samme nivå av personlighet og liv.» Naturkreftene, dyrene og tingene har for disse polynesiere og buskmenn de samme kreftene og egenskapene som menn har; og etter deres mening har menn følgende egenskaper:

«1. Slektskap med dyr og evne til å bli forvandlet, og til å forvandle andre, til dyr og andre objekter. 2. Magiske ferdigheter, slik som makt til å mane frem gjenferd, eller til å besøke gjenferd og de dødes rike; makt over årstidene, solen, månen, stjernene, været og så videre.»[382]

Villmenns historier bugner i dag av eventyr basert på egenskaper og hendelser som disse. Hvis disse historiene skulle overleve i litteraturen til disse nasjonene etter at nasjonene var blitt siviliserte, ville de fremstå som meningsløse og tåpelige og grusomme for etterkommerne av våre samtidige villmenn. »[383] Det meningsløse elementet i mytene ville, etter denne teorien, for det meste være en «overleving.» I stedet for da å forfalle, har rasene som oppfant meningsløse myter, med opp- og nedturer i sivilisasjonen, intellektuelt og moralsk forbedret seg, i en slik grad at de ønsker å ta avstand fra det meningsløse elementet i sine mytiske og religiøse tradisjoner, eller å forklare det som fornuftig ved hjelp av allegori. Denne forskningsmetoden avhenger av sinnsvitenskapen – psykologi, og vitenskapen om mennesket – antropologi. Den kan kalles den antropologiske metoden. Teorien er «overlevingsteorien».

Ifølge denne teorien oppløser mange av mytenes forbløffende elementer seg i overlevinger av primitiv filosofi, vitenskap eller historie. Fra den første stammer de grovere systemene av fysisk og åndelig evolusjon, gudenes generasjoner og gjenferdenes annenverden; fra den andre, de grovere forsøkene på å forklare den naturlige og animalske verdens fenomener ved å utstyre dem med menneskelige og ofte magiske krefter; fra den tredje, de fortellingene som ble funnet opp for å gjøre rede for helligheten til visse helligdommer og ritualer, og for stammeskikker og -seremonier hvis opprinnelse var glemt. Disse siste er kjent som etiologiske myter; de gir seg ut for å angi aitía, eller grunnen, til at Delfi for eksempel skulle ha Apollons orakel, eller hvorfor Demeters ritual skulle feires i Eleusis og på en bestemt dramatisk måte.

Det er selvsagt sannsynlig at det tvilsomme elementet i myten av og til oppsto i andre spirer enn villmannens nysgjerrighet og godtroenhet: for eksempel i en stor helts eventyr, eller i en språksykdom der utsagn om objekter kom til å forstås som historier om personer, eller kanskje i en bevisst allegori, eller, til og med, i fordervelsen av en eldre, renere form for moralsk eller religiøs sannhet. Men generelt er roten til mytedannelse å finne i det primitive menneskets mentale og sosiale tilstand, den forvirrede personligheten som han utstrakte til sine omgivelser, og troen på magiske krefter som han tilla dem av sine stammefeller som var de klokeste og mest innflytelsesrike. Denne mentale tilstanden hos myteskaperen bør forutsettes i alle vitenskapelige forklaringer av mytedannelse.

Overgangen er lett fra personifiseringen av naturelementene og aksepten av oppdiktet historie til forestillingen om overnaturlige vesener som hersker over og styrer de forskjellige naturobjektene – luft, ild, vann, solen, månen og stjernene, fjellene, skogene og strømmene – eller som besitter vidunderlige egenskaper i handling, lidenskap, dyd, forutseenhet, åndelighet og last.

Grekerne, hvis fantasi var livlig, befolket hele naturen med slike usynlige beboere og makter. I Hellas, sier Wordsworth,[384]

I hine vakre himmelstrøk den ensomme gjeter, henslengt På bløtt gress en halv sommerdag igjennom, Med musikk dysset sin dovne ro: Og i et anfall av tretthet, om han, Når hans egen pust var taus, tilfeldig hørte En fjern tone, langt søtere enn de lyder Hans stakkars kunst formådde, hans fantasi hentet den, Like fra solens flammende vogn, En skjeggløs Yngling, som rørte en gull-lutt, Og fylte de opplyste lunder med henrykkelse. Den nattlige jeger, løftende et funklende øye Opp mot den tiltagende måne, med takknemlig hjerte Anropte den deilige vandrersken som skjenket Dette betimelige lys, for å dele hans frydefulle jakt: Og derav, en strålende Gudinne med sine Nymfer, Over gressletten og gjennom den dunkle lund, Ikke uledsaget av tonende noter Mangedoblet av ekko fra fjell eller hule, Fór frem i jaktens storm; lik måne og stjerner Glir hastig over den skyede himmel, Når vinder blåser sterkt.

Den reisende slukket Sin tørst fra bekk eller vellende kilde, og takket Najaden. Solstråler, på fjerne åser Glidende raskt, med skygger i sitt følge, Kunne, med liten hjelp fra fantasi, forvandles Til fotrappe oreader som synlig lekte. Zefyrer, viftende, idet de passerte, sine vinger, Manglet ikke, for kjærlighet, fagre gjenstander som de fridde til Med varsom hvisking. Visne grener, groteske, Avkvistet sine blad og kvister av eldgammel alder, Fra dypet av raggete skjul tittende frem I den lave dalen, eller på bratt fjellside; Og, noen ganger, blandet med rørlige horn Av det levende rådyr, eller geitens hengende skjegg, – Disse var de lurende Satyrer, en vill flokk Av spøkefulle guddommer; eller Pan selv, Den enkle hyrdes ærefryktinngytende Gud.

De fasene av betydning og skjønnhet som den fysiske eller naturlige myten kan utvikle seg gjennom, uttrykkes med poetisk ynde av Ruskin i hans «Luftens dronning.»[385] Leseren må imidlertid vokte seg mot antagelsen om at noen myte har sprunget frem fullt utstyrt med fysisk, religiøs og moralsk betydning. Ruskin sier selv: «For den jevne person betydde myten alltid lite; for den edle person, mye.» Følgelig, som vi vet, for villmannen var myten vill; for den fromme ble den religiøs; for kunstneren, vakker; for filosofen, dyp og betydningsfull – i århundrenes løp.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

"If we seek," says Ruskin, "to ascertain the manner in which the story first crystallized into its shape, we shall find ourselves led back generally to one or other of two sources--either to actual historical events, represented by the fancy under figures personifying them, or else to natural phenomena similarly endowed with life by the imaginative power, usually more or less under the influence of terror. The historical myths we must leave the masters of history to follow; they, and the events they record, being yet involved in great, though attractive and penetrable, mystery. But the stars and hills and storms are with us now, as they were with others of old; and it only needs that we look at them with the earnestness of those childish eyes to understand the first words spoken of them by the children of men.

And then, in all the most beautiful and enduring myths, we shall find not only a literal story of a real person--not only a parallel imagery of moral principle--but an underlying worship of natural phenomena, out of which both have sprung, and in which both forever remain rooted. Thus, from the real sun, rising and setting; from the real atmosphere, calm in its dominion of unfading blue and fierce in its descent of tempest--the Greek forms first the idea of two entirely personal and corporeal gods (Apollo and Athena), whose limbs are clothed in divine flesh, and whose brows are crowned with divine beauty; yet so real that the quiver rattles at their shoulder, and the chariot bends beneath their weight.

And, on the other hand, collaterally with these corporeal images, and never for one instant separated from them, he conceives also two omnipresent spiritual influences, of which one illuminates, as the sun, with a constant fire, whatever in humanity is skillful and wise; and the other, like the living air, breathes the calm of heavenly fortitude and strength of righteous anger into every human breast that is pure and brave.

"Now, therefore, in nearly every [natural] myth of importance,... you have to discern these three structural parts--the root and the two branches. The root, in physical existence, sun, or sky, or cloud, or sea; then the personal incarnation of that, becoming a trusted and companionable deity, with whom you may walk hand in hand, as a child with its brother or its sister; and lastly, the moral significance of the image, which is in all the great myths eternally and beneficently true."

What Ruskin calls, above, the historical myth may be the euhemeristic transformation of real events and personages, as of a flood and those concerned in it; or it may be the ætiological invention of a story to account for rituals of which the origin has been forgotten, as of the Dionysiac revels, with their teaching of liberation from the sordid limits of mortality. In either case, especially the latter, the imaginative and moral significance of the historical myth has in general developed with the advance of civilization.

Myth, in fine, whether natural, historical, or spiritual, "is not to be regarded as mere error and folly, but as an interesting product of the human mind. "[386] But that is not the full statement of the case. Myth is also actual history of early and imperfect stages of thought and belief; it is the true narrative of unenlightened observation, of infantine gropings after truth. [387]

FOOTNOTES:

[375] Myths and Myth-Makers, p. 18. Proper nouns have been anglicized.

[376] Ruskin, Queen of the Air.

[377] See Max Müller's Chips from a German Workshop, Science of Religion, etc.; Cox's Aryan Myths, and numerous articles by the learned authors of Roscher's Ausführliches Lexikon.

[378] Max Müller, Essay on Comparative Mythology, Oxford Essays, 1856; Science of Religion, 2, 548 n.

[379] Andrew Lang, Myth, Ritual, and Religion, 1, 24-25, and Professor C. P. Tiele, as cited by Lang.

[380] W. E. Gladstone, Homer and the Homeric Age; Juventus Mundi; The Olympian Religion, North American Review, Feb.-May, 1892.

[381] Andrew Lang, Myth, Ritual, and Religion, 2 vols., London, 1887; and Encyc. Brit., 9th ed., article, Mythology. Mannhardt, Antike Wald-und Feldkultus, Berlin, 1877. E. B. Tylor, Anthropology; Primitive Culture.

[382] Encyc. Brit., Mythology.

[383] Chr. A. Lobeck, Aglaophamus: On the Causes of Greek Mythology. Cited by Lang.

[384] Excursion, Bk. 4.

[385] Concerning which may be accepted the verdict that Mr. Ruskin passes on Payne Knight's Symbolical Language of Ancient Art, "Not trustworthy, being little more than a mass of conjectural memoranda; but the heap is suggestive, if well sifted."

[386] E. B. Tylor, Anthropology, p. 387. New York, 1881.

[387] See also L. Preller, Griechische Mythologie, 1, 19. Max Müller, Comparative Mythology, Oxford Essays, 1856, pp. 1-87; also Science of Religion, 1873, pp. 335-403; Philosophy of Mythology; and Science of Language, 7th ed., 2, 421-571. Hermann Paul, Grundriss der Germanischen Philologie, Bd. 1, Lfg. 5, 982-995, Mythologie (von E. Mogk). W. Y. Sellar, Augustan Poets. Louis Dyer, Studies of the Gods in Greece. Talfourd Ely, Olympus. A. H. Petiscus, The Gods of Olympus (translated by Katherine A. Raleigh). E. Rohde, Psyche. B. I. Wheeler, Dionysos and Immortality.

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=296. Theories of Resemblance.= Several theories of the appearance of the same explanatory or æsthetic myth under various guises, in lands remote one from another, have been advanced; but none of them fully unveils the mystery. The difficulty lies not so much in accounting for the similarity of thought or material in different stories, as for the resemblance in isolated incidents and in the arrangement of incidents or plot. The principal theories of the distribution of myths are as follows:

(1) That the resemblances between the myths of different nations are purely accidental. This theory leaves us no wiser than we were.

(2) That the stories have been borrowed by one nation from another. This will account for exchange only between nations historically acquainted with each other. It will not account for the existence of the same arrangement of incidents in a Greek myth and in a Polynesian romance.

(3) That all myths, if traced chronologically backward and geographically from land to land, will be found to have originated in India.[388] This theory fails to account for numerous stories current among the modern nationalities of Europe, of Africa, and of India itself. It leaves also unexplained the existence of certain myths in Egypt many centuries before India had any known history: such as, in all probability, the Egyptian myth of Osiris. The theory, therefore, is open to the objection made to the theory of borrowing.

(4) That similar myths are based on historical traditions similar in various countries or inherited from some mother country. But, although some historical myths may have descended from a mother race, it has already been demonstrated (§ 294, (1)) that the historical (euhemeristic) hypothesis is inadequate. It is, moreover, not likely that many historical incidents, like those related in the Iliad and the Odyssey, happened in the same order and as actual history in Asia Minor, Ithaca, Persia, and Norway. But we find myths containing such incidents in all these countries.[389]

"[390] Against this theory it may be urged that stories having only the undeveloped germ or idea in common would not, with any probability, after they had been developed independently of each other, possess the remarkable resemblance in details that many widely separated myths display. Moreover, the assumption of this common stock considers only Aryan tribes: it ignores Africans, Mongolians, American Indians, and other peoples whose myths resemble the Aryan, but are not traceable to the same original germ. The Aryan germ-theory has, however, the merit of explaining resemblances between many myths of different Aryan nations.

(6) That the existence of similar incidents or situations is to be explained as resulting from the common facts of human thought, experience, and sentiment. This may be called the psychological theory. It was entertained by Grimm, and goes hand in hand with the anthropological, or "survivalist," explanation of the elements of myth. "In the long history of mankind," says Mr. Andrew Lang, "it is impossible to deny that stories may conceivably have spread from a single center, and been handed on from races like the Indo-European and Semitic to races as far removed from them in every way as the Zulus, the Australians, the Eskimos, the natives of the South Sea Islands. But while the possibility of the diffusion of myths by borrowing and transmission must be allowed for, the hypothesis of the origin of myths in the savage state of the intellect supplies a ready explanation of their wide diffusion."

Many products of early art--clay bowls and stone weapons--are peculiar to no one national taste or skill, they are what might have been expected of human conditions and intelligence. "Many myths may be called 'human' in this sense. They are the rough product of the early human mind, and are not yet characterized by the differentiations of race and culture. "[391]

The distribution of myth, like its origin, is inexplicable by any one theory. The discovery of racial families and of family traditions narrows the problem, but does not solve it. The existence of the same story in unrelated nationalities remains a perplexing fact, towards the explanation of which the theories of "borrowing" and of "similar historic tradition," while plausible, are but unsubstantiated contributions. And until we possess the earliest records of those unrelated nationalities that have similar myths, or until we discover monuments and log books of some commercial nation that in prehistoric times circumnavigated the globe and deposited on remote shores and islands the seeds of the parent mythic plant, we must accept as our only scientific explanation the psychological, or so-called human, theory:--Given similar mental condition with similar surroundings, similar imaginative products, called myths, will result.[392]

FOOTNOTES:

[388] Benfey and Cosquin. See Lang's Myth, Ritual, and Religion, 2, 299.

[389] Lang, Myth, Ritual, and Religion, 2, 300; Cox, Mythology of the Aryan Nations, 1, 100.

[390] The Rev. Sir G. W. Cox, Mythology of Aryan Nations, 1, 99; also, same theory, Max Müller's Chips from a German Workshop; Andrew Lang, Myth, Ritual, and Religion, 2, 297.

[391] Encyc. Brit., 9th ed. Article, Mythology. Cf. Tylor's Primitive Culture, 1, 369; Tylor's Anthropology, p. 397.

[392] See T. C. Johnston's Did the Ph[oe]nicians Discover America? 1892.

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=297. Traditional History.= Before the introduction of writing, myths were preserved in popular traditions, in the sacred ceremonials of colleges of priests, in the narratives chanted by families of minstrels or by professional bards wandering from village to village or from court to court, and in occasional hymns sung by privileged harpists, like Demodocus of Phæacia,[393] in honor of a chieftain, an ancestor, or a god. Many of these early bards are mere names to us. Most of them are probably as mythical as the songs with which they are accredited. The following is a brief account of mythical prophets, of mythical musicians and poets, and of the actual poets and historians who recorded the mythologies from which English literature draws its classical myths,--the Greek, the Roman, the Norse, and the German.

=298. In Greece.= (1) Mythical Prophets. To some of the oldest bards was attributed the gift of prophecy. Indeed, nearly every expedition of mythology was accompanied by one of these seers, priests, or "medicine men," as we might call them.

Melampus was the first Greek said to be endowed with prophetic powers. Before his house there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's nest. The old serpents were killed by the slaves, but Melampus saved the young ones. One day when he was asleep under the oak, the serpents licked his ears with their tongues, enabling him to understand the language of birds and creeping things.[394] At one time his enemies seized and imprisoned him. But Melampus, in the silence of the night, heard from the woodworms in the timbers that the supports of the house were nearly eaten through and the roof would soon fall in. He told his captors. They took his warning, escaped destruction, rewarded the prophet, and held him in high honor.

Other famous soothsayers were Amphiaraüs, who took part in the War of the Seven against Thebes; Calchas, who accompanied the Greeks during the Trojan War; Helenus and Cassandra, of King Priam's family, who prophesied for the Trojan forces; Tiresias, the blind prophet of Thebes; and Mopsus, who attended the Argonauts. The stories of these expeditions are given in preceding chapters.

(2) Mythical Musicians and Poets. Since the poets of antiquity sang their stories or hymns to an accompaniment of their own on the harp or lyre, they were skilled in the art of music as well as in that of verse.

Orpheus, whose adventures have been narrated, passes in tradition for the oldest of Greek lyrists, and the special favorite, even the son, of the god Apollo, patron of musicians. This Thracian bard is said to have taught mysterious truths concerning the origin of things and the immortality of the soul. But the fragments of Orphic hymns which are attributed to him are probably the work of philosophers of a much later period in Greek literature.

Another Thracian bard, Thamyris, is said in his presumption to have challenged the Muses to a trial of skill. Conquered in the contest, he was deprived of his sight. To Musæus, the son of Orpheus, was attributed a hymn on the Eleusinian mysteries, and other sacred poems and oracles. Milton couples his name with that of Orpheus:

But, O sad Virgin! that thy power Might raise Musæus from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what love did seek.[395]

Other legendary bards or musicians were Linus, Marsyas, and Amphion.

(3) The Poets of Mythology. Homer, from whose poems of the Iliad and Odyssey we have taken the chief part of our chapters on the Trojan War and the return of the Grecians, is almost as mythical a personage as the heroes he celebrates. The traditionary story is that he was a wandering minstrel, blind and old, who traveled from place to place singing his lays to the music of his harp, in the courts of princes or the cottages of peasants,--a dependent on the voluntary offerings of his hearers. Byron calls him "the blind old man of Scio's rocky isle"; and a well-known epigram, alluding to the uncertainty of the fact of his birthplace, runs:

Seven wealthy towns contend for Homer dead, Through which the living Homer begged his bread.

These seven places were Smyrna, Chios (now Scio), Colophon, Ithaca, Pylos, Argos, and Athens.

Modern scholars have doubted whether the Homeric poems are the work of any single mind. This uncertainty arises, in part, from the difficulty of believing that poems of such length could have been committed to writing in the age usually assigned to these, when materials capable of transmitting long productions were not yet in use. On the other hand, it is asked how poems of such length could have been handed down from age to age by means of the memory alone. This question is answered by the statement that there was a professional body of men whose business it was to commit to memory and rehearse for pay the national and patriotic legends.

Pisistratus of Athens ordered a commission of scholars (about 537 B.C.) to collect and revise the Homeric poems; and it is probable that at that time certain passages of the Iliad and Odyssey, as we now have them, were interpolated. Beside the Iliad and the Odyssey, many other epics passed in antiquity under Homer's name. The so-called Homeric Hymns to the gods, which were composed by various poets after the death of Homer, are a source of valuable information concerning the attributes of the divinities addressed.

C. The preservation and further fashioning of myths fell, after Homer's time, into the hands of the Rhapsodists, who chanted epic songs, and of the Cyclic poets, who elaborated into various epic circles, or completed wholes, neglected traditions of the Trojan War. Among these cyclic poems were the Cyprian Lays, which related the beginnings of the Trojan War and the first nine years of the siege, thus leading up to the Iliad; the Æthiopis, which continued the Iliad and told of the death of Achilles; the Little Iliad and the Iliupersis, which narrated the fall of Troy and magnified the exploits of Ajax and Philoctetes; and the Nostoi, or Home-Comings, which told the adventures of various Greek heroes during the period of ten years between the end of the Iliad and the beginning of the Odyssey. Most of these poems were once attributed to Homer. They are all lost, but the names of some of their authors survive.

There was also a cycle which told of the two wars against Thebes.

Hesiod is, like Homer, one of the most important sources of our knowledge of Greek mythology. He is thought by some to have been a contemporary of Homer, but concerning the relative dates of the two poets there is no certainty. Hesiod was born in Ascra in B[oe]otia; he spent his youth as a shepherd on Mount Helicon, his manhood in the neighborhood of Corinth, and wrote two great poems, the Works and Days, and the Theogony, or Genealogy of the Gods. From the former we obtain a connected account of Greek traditions concerning the primitive commodities of life, the arts of agriculture and navigation, the sacred calendar, and the various prehistoric ages. From the latter poem we learn the Greek mythology of the creation of the world, the family of the gods, their wars, and their attitude toward primeval man.

While Hesiod may have composed his works at a somewhat later period than Homer, it is noteworthy that his stories of the gods have more of the savage or senseless element than those attributed to Homer. The artist, or artists, of the Iliad and the Odyssey seem to have refined the stories into poetic gold; Hesiod has gathered them in the ore, like so many specimens for a museum.

A company of Lyric Poets, of whom Stesichorus (620 B.C.), Alcæus (611 B.C.), Sappho (610 B.C.), Arion (600 B.C.), Simonides of Ceos (556 B.C.), Ibycus (540 B.C.), Anacreon (530 B.C.), and Pindar (522 B.C.) are the most prominent, have contributed much to our knowledge of mythology. They have left us hymns to the gods, references to mythical heroes, and accounts of more or less pathetic legendary adventures.

Of the works of Sappho few fragments remain, but they establish her claim to eminent poetical genius. Her story is frequently alluded to. Being passionately in love with a beautiful youth named Phaon, and failing to obtain a return of affection, she is said to have thrown herself from the promontory of Leucadia into the sea, under a superstition that those who should take that "Lover's Leap" would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love.

Of Arion the greatest work was a dithyramb or choral hymn to the god of wine. It is said that his music and song were of such sweetness as to charm the monsters of the sea; and that when thrown overboard on one occasion by avaricious seamen, he was borne safely to land by an admiring dolphin. Spenser represents Arion, mounted on his dolphin, accompanying the train of Neptune and Amphitrite:

Then was there heard a most celestial sound Of dainty music, which did next ensue Before the spouse: that was Arion crowned Who, playing on his harp, unto him drew The ears and hearts of all that goodly crew; That even yet the dolphin which him bore Through the Ægean seas from pirates' view, Stood still by him astonished at his lore, And all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar.[396]

Simonides was one of the most prolific of the early poets of Greece, but only a few fragments of his compositions have descended to us. He wrote hymns, triumphal odes, and elegies, and in the last species of composition he particularly excelled. His genius was inclined to the pathetic; none could touch with truer effect the chords of human sympathy. The Lamentation of Danaë, the most important of the fragments which remain of his poetry, is based on the tradition that Danaë and her infant son were confined by order of her father Acrisius in a chest and set adrift on the sea. The myth of her son, Perseus, has already been narrated.

Myths received their freest and perhaps most ideal treatment at the hands of the greatest lyric poet of Greece, Pindar (522 B.C.). In his hymns and songs of praise to gods and in his odes composed for the victors in the national athletic contests, he was accustomed to use the mythical exploits of Greek heroes as a text from which to draw morals appropriate to the occasion.[397]

The three great Tragic Poets of Greece have handed down to us a wealth of mythological material. From the plays of Æschylus (525 B.C.) we gather, among other noble lessons, the fortunes of the family of Agamemnon, the narrative of the expedition against Thebes, the sufferings of Prometheus, benefactor of men. In the tragedies of Sophocles (495 B.C.) we have a further account of the family of Agamemnon, myths of [OE]dipus of Thebes and his children, stories connected with the Trojan War, and the last adventure and the death of Hercules. Of the dramas of Euripides (480 B.C.) there remain to us seventeen, in which are found stories of the daughters of Agamemnon, the rare and beautiful narrative of Alcestis, and the adventures of Medea. All of these stories have been recounted in their proper places.

The Comedies of Aristophanes, also, are replete with matters of mythological import.

Of the later poets of mythology, only two need be mentioned here,--Apollonius of Rhodes (194 B.C.), who wrote in frigid style the story of Jason's Voyage for the Golden Fleece; and Theocritus of Sicily (270 B.C.), whose rural idyls are at once charmingly natural and romantic.[398]

(4) Historians of Mythology. The earliest narrators in prose of the myths, legends and genealogies of Greece lived about 600 B.C. Herodotus, the "father of history" (484 B.C.), embalms various myths in his account of the conflicts between Asia and Greece. Apollodorus (140 B.C.) gathers the legends of Greece later incorporated in the Library of Greek Mythology. That delightful traveler, Pausanias, makes special mention, in his Tour of Greece, of the sacred customs and legends that had maintained themselves as late as his time (160 A.D.). Lucian, in his Dialogues of the Gods and Dialogues of the Dead, awakens "inextinguishable laughter" by his satire on ancient faith and fable.

=299. Roman Poets of Mythology.= Virgil, called also by his surname, Maro, from whose poem of the Æneid we have taken the story of Æneas, was one of the great poets who made the age of the Roman emperor, Augustus, celebrated. Virgil was born in Mantua in the year 70 B.C. His great poem is ranked next to those of Homer, in that noble class of poetical composition, the epic. Virgil is inferior to Homer in originality and invention. The Æneid, written in an age of culture and science, lacks that charming atmosphere of belief which invests the naïve, or popular, epic. The myths concerning the founding of Rome, which Virgil has received from earlier writers, he has here fused into a literary epic. But what the Æneid lacks of epic simplicity, it makes up in patriotic spirit, in lofty moral and civic ideals, in correctness of taste, and in stylistic form.

C. He was educated for public life and held some offices of considerable dignity; but poetry was his delight, and he early resolved to cultivate it. He accordingly sought the society of contemporary poets and was acquainted with Horace and saw Virgil, though the latter died when Ovid was yet too young and undistinguished to have formed his acquaintance. Ovid spent an easy life at Rome in the enjoyment of a competent income. He was intimate with the family of Augustus, the emperor; and it is supposed that some serious offense given to a member of that family was the cause of an event which reversed the poet's happy circumstances and clouded the latter portion of his life. At the age of fifty he was banished from Rome and ordered to betake himself to Tomi on the borders of the Black Sea. His only consolation in exile was to address his wife and absent friends. His letters were all in verse.

They are called the "Tristia," or Sorrows, and Letters from Pontus. The two great works of Ovid are his "Metamorphoses" or Transformations, and his "Fasti," or Poetic Calendar. They are both mythological poems, and from the former we have taken many of our stories of Grecian and Roman mythology. These poems have thus been characterized:

"The rich mythology of Greece furnished Ovid, as it may still furnish the poet, the painter, and the sculptor, with materials for his art. With exquisite taste, simplicity, and pathos he has narrated the fabulous traditions of early ages, and given to them that appearance of reality which only a master hand could impart. His pictures of nature are striking and true; he selects with care that which is appropriate; he rejects the superfluous, and when he has completed his work, it is neither defective nor redundant. The 'Metamorphoses' are read with pleasure by the young and old of every civilized land."

In an incidental manner, Horace, the prince of Roman lyric poets, and the lyric and elegiac writers, Catullus, Tibullus, and Propertius, have liberally increased our knowledge of Greek and Roman myth.[399]

Seneca, the teacher of Nero, is best known for his philosophical treatises; but he wrote, also, tragedies, the materials of which are well-known Greek legends. Apuleius, born in Africa, 114 A.D., interests us as the compiler of a clever romance, The Golden Ass;[400] the most pleasing episode of which, the story of Cupid and Psyche, has been elsewhere related.[401]

=300. Records of Norse Mythology.=[402] A system of mythology of especial interest,--as belonging to the race from which we, through our English ancestors, derive our origin,--is that of the Norsemen, who inhabited the countries now known as Sweden, Denmark, Norway, and Iceland. Their mythological lore has been transmitted by means of Runes, Skaldic poems, the Eddas, and the Sagas.

The earliest method of writing prevalent among the Norsemen was by runes. The word means hidden lore, or mystery. The earliest runes were merely fanciful signs supposed to possess mysterious power. As a synonym for writing_, the term was first applied to the Northern alphabet, itself derived from ancient Greek and Roman coins. , which was dug up in Schleswig a hundred and sixty years ago; another, on a stone at Tune in Norway. From such an alphabet the Anglo-Saxon runes were derived. Inscriptions in later Scandinavian runes have been discovered in Sweden, Denmark, and the Isle of Man. [403] It is doubtful whether mythological poems were ever written in this way; dedications to pagan deities, ditties of the eleventh century, and love-spells have, however, been found.

_ The bards and poets of the Norsemen were the Skalds. They were the depositaries of whatever historic lore there was; and it was their office to mingle something of intellectual gratification with the rude feasts of the warriors, by rehearsing, with such accompaniments of poetry and music as their skill could afford, the exploits of heroes living or dead. Such songs were called Drapas. The origin of Skaldic poetry is lost in mythic or prehistoric darkness, but the Skalds of Iceland continued to play a most important part in the literary development of the north as late as the end of the fourteenth century. Without their coöperation, the greater part of the songs and sagas of genuine antiquity could hardly have reached us. [404]

The chief mythological records of the Norse are the Eddas and the Sagas. The word Edda has usually been connected with the Icelandic for great-grandmother;[405] it has also been regarded as a corruption of the High German Erda, Mother Earth, from whom, according to the lay in which the word first occurs, the earliest race of mankind sprang,[406]--or as the point or head of Norse poetry,[407] or as a tale concerned with death_,[408] or as derived from Odde, the home of the reputed collector of the Elder Edda. [409] There are two Icelandic collections called Eddas: Snorri's and Sæmund's. Until the year 1643 the name was applied to a book, principally in prose, containing Mythical Tales, a Treatise on the Poetic Art and Diction, a Poem on Meters, and a Rhymed Glossary of Synonyms, with an appendix of minor treatises on grammar and rhetoric--the whole intended as a guide for poets.

[410] While the main treatises on the poetic art are, in general, Snorri's, the treatises on grammar and rhetoric have been, with more or less certitude, assigned to other writers of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It is probable, too, that in the Mythical Tales, or the Delusion of Gylfi, Snorri merely enlarged and edited with poetical illustrations the work of earlier hands. The poets of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries do not speak of Snorri, but they refer continually to the "rules of Edda," and frequently to the obscurity and the conventionality of Eddic phraseology, figures, and art. Even at the present day in Iceland it is common to hear the term "void of Eddic art," or "a bungler in Eddic art." A rearrangement of Snorri's Edda, by Magnus Olafsson (1574-1636), is much better known than the original work.

In 1642, Bishop Bryniolf Sveinsson discovered a manuscript of the mythological poems of Iceland. Misled by theories of his own and by a fanciful suggestion of the famous antiquary Biorn of Scardsa, he attributed the composition of these poems to Sæmund the Wise, a historian who lived 1056-1133. Henceforth, consequently, Snorri's work is called the Younger, or Prose Edda, in contradistinction to Bryniolf's find, which is known as the Elder, the Poetical Edda, or the Edda of Sæmund. The oldest manuscript of the Poetical Edda is of the thirteenth century. Its contents were probably collected not later than 1150. "[411] The poems are Icelandic, however, in their general character and history. [412]

The Sagas. The Eddas contain many myths and mythical features that contradict the national character of both Germans and Norsemen, but the sagas have their roots in Norse civilization and are national property.[413] Of these mythic-heroic prose compositions the most important to us is the Volsunga Saga, which was put together probably in the twelfth century and is based in part on the poems of the Elder Edda, in part on floating traditions, and in part on popular songs that now are lost.[414]

=301. Records of German Mythology.=[412] The story of the Volsungs and the Nibelungs springs from mythological sources common to the whole Teutonic race. Two distinct versions of the saga survive,--the Low or North German, which we have already noticed in the lays of the Elder Edda and in the Norse Volsunga Saga, and the High or South German, which has been preserved in German folk songs and in the Nibelungenlied, or Lay of the Nibelungs, that has grown out of them. The Norse form of the story exhibits a later survival of the credulous, or myth-making, mental condition. The Lay of the Nibelungs absorbed, at an earlier date, historical elements, and began sooner to restrict the personality of its heroes within the compass of human limitations.[415]

Although there are many manuscripts, or fragments of manuscripts, of the Nibelungenlied that attest its popularity between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries, it was not until the Swiss critic, J. J. Bodmer, published, in 1757, portions of two ancient poems, "The Revenge of Kriemhild" and "The Lament over the Heroes of Etzel," that the attention of modern scholars was called to this famous German epic. Since that time many theories of the composition of the Nibelungenlied have been advanced. It has been held by some that the German epic is an adaptation of the Norse version;[416] by others, that the Scandinavians, not the Germans, borrowed the story; and by others still, that the epics, while proceeding from a common cradle, are of independent growth.

[419] But the theory advanced by Lachmann is still of great value: that the poem consists of a number of ancient ballads of various age and uneven worth; and that, about 1210, a collector, mending some of the ballads to suit himself, strung them together on a thread of his own invention.

In fine, the materials of the poem would persuade us not only of its origin in very ancient popular lays, but of their fusion and improvement by the imaginative effort of at least one, and probably of several poets, who lived and wrote between 1120 and 1200 A.D. The metrical structure, also, would indicate derivation from the German folk song and modification due to multifarious handling on the part of popular minstrels and poets of written verse.[420]

=302. Records of Oriental Mythology: Egyptian.=[421] Although the myths of Egypt, India, and Persia are of intense interest and importance, they have not materially affected English literature. The following is, however, a brief outline of the means by which some of them have been preserved.

The Egyptian records are (1) The Hieroglyphs, or sacred inscriptions in Tombs of the Kings, and other solemn places,--conveying ideas by symbols, by phonetic signs, or by both; (2) The Sacred Papyri, containing hymns to the gods; (3) The Books of the Dead and of the Lower Hemisphere,--devoted to necromantic incantations, prayers for the souls of the departed, and other rituals.

=303. Indian Records.= (1) The Vedas, or Holy Scriptures of the Hindus, which fall into four divisions. The most ancient, the Rig-Veda, consists of hymns of an elevated and spiritual character composed by families of Rishis, or psalmists, as far back, perhaps, as 3000 B.C., not later than 1400 B.C. They give us the religious conceptions of the Aryans when they crossed the Himalayas and began to push toward Southern Hindustan. The Sama-Veda is a book of solemn chants and tunes. The Yajur-Veda comprises prayers for sacrificial occasions, and interpretations of the same. The Atharva-Veda shows, as might be expected of the youngest of the series, the influence on the purer Aryan creed of superstitions borrowed, perhaps, from the aboriginal tribes of India. It contains spells for exorcising demons and placating them.

(2) The Indian Epics of classical standing. They are the Mahâbhârata and the Râmâyana. Scholars differ as to the chronological precedence. The Great Feud of the Bhâratas has the air of superior antiquity because of the numerous hands and generations that have contributed to its composition. The Adventures of Râma, on the other hand, recalls a more primitive stage of credulity and of savage invention. The Mahâbhârata is a storehouse of mythical tradition. It contains several well-rounded epic poems, the most beautiful of which is the Episode of Nala,--a prince who, succumbing to a weakness common to his contemporaries, has gambled away his kingdom. The Great Feud of the Bhâratas is, indeed, assigned to an author--but his name, Vyâsa, means simply the Arranger. The Râmâyana purports to have been written by the poet Vâlmîki.

It tells how Sita, the wife of Prince Râma, is carried off to Ceylon by Râvana, king of the demons, and how Râma, by the aid of an army of monkeys, bridges the straits between India and Ceylon and, slaying the demon, recovers his lovely and innocent wife. The resemblance between the plot and that of the Iliad has inclined some scholars to derive the Indian from the Greek epic. But, until the relative antiquity of the poems is established, the Iliad might as well be derived from the Râmâyana. The theory is unsubstantiated. These epics of India lack the artistic spirit and grace of the Iliad and the Odyssey, but they display a keener sympathy with nature and a more romantic appreciation of the loves and sorrows of mankind.

=304. Persian Records.= The Avesta, or Sacred Book of the ancient Persians, composed in the Zend language and later translated into medieval Persian,--or Pahlavi,--contains the Gáthás, or hymns of Zoroaster and his contemporaries, and scriptures of as recent a date as the fifth century B.C. Zoroaster, a holy man of God, was the founder or the reformer of the Persian religion. He lived as early as the fourteenth or fifteenth century B.C., and his system became the dominant religion of Western Asia from the time of Cyrus (550 B.C.) to the conquest of Persia by Alexander the Great. The teachings of Zoroaster are characterized by beautiful simplicity, and by an unwavering faith in the ultimate victory of righteousness (Ormuzd) over evil (Ahriman).

FOOTNOTES:

[393] Odyssey 8, 250.

[394] Cf. the experience of Sigurd.

[395] Il Penseroso, II. 103-108.

[396] Faerie Queene, 4, 11, 23.

[397] See E. B. Clapp, Greek Morality and Religion as Set forth by Pindar (Hibbert Journal, 8, 283).

[398] For other authorities and for a few standard translations of the Greek Classics, see Commentary, § 298.

[399] With regard to translations of these and other Latin poets, see Commentary, § 299.

[400] Based on Lucian's Lucius or the Ass, and other Greek stories.

[401] Translation in Walter Pater's Marius the Epicurean.

[402] For literature, see Commentary.

[403] Cleasby and Vigfusson's Icelandic-English Dictionary.

[404] F. W. Horn's Geschichte d. Literatur d. Skandinavischen Nordens, 27-42.

[405] Cleasby and Vigfusson's Dictionary; Lüning's Die Edda, 1859.

[406] The Lay of Rig in Snorri's Edda; Vigfusson and Powell's Corpus Poeticum Boreale, 2, 514.

[407] Jacob Grimm.

[408] The Celtic aideadh: Professor Rhys, Academy, January 31, 1880.

[409] Arne Magnússon, see Morley's English Writers, 2, 336, and Murray's New English Dictionary.

[410] Corpus Poeticum Boreale, 1; xxvii, etc.

[411] Corpus Poeticum Boreale, 1; lxxi; lxiii-lxiv.

[412] For literature, see Commentary.

[413] Pauls Grundriss d. Germanischen Philologie: Bd. 1, Lfg. 5, Mythologie.

[414] Morris and Magnusson's The Story of the Volsungs and Nibelungs. Horns Geschichte d. Literatur d. Skandinavischen Nordens, 27-42, 58, etc.

[415] Werner Hahn, Das Nibelungenlied.

[416] Brødrene Grimm; v. d. Hagen; Vilmar.

[417] Werner Hahn; Jas. Sime, Encyc. Brit. Nibelungenlied.

[418] Pfeiffer.

[419] Bartsch, se Encyc. Brit.

[420] Werner Hahn, 18, 58-60.

[421] For oversettelser av orientalske myter, se Kommentaren. For mytiske personer, se Register og Ordbok.

KOMMENTAR[422]

[Det håpes at denne kommentaren kan være nyttig for allmenne lesere, for kunststudenter og for lærere i den videregående skolen, så vel som for elever. Henvisningene er alltid til seksjoner; og seksjonsnumrene samsvarer med teksten i bokens hoveddel. Bokstaven C. foran et nummer viser til Kommentaren.]

=3. Kaos=: et gap. Sammenlign «Begynnelsesgapet» i norrøn mytologi. =Eros=: en lengsel. =Erebos=: svart, fra rot som betyr å dekke.

=4. Uranos= (gresk Ouranos) tilsvarer navnet på den indiske guddommen Varuna, rot var, 'å dekke'. Uranos er den stjernebesatte hvelvingen som dekker jorden; Varuna ble den regngivende himmelen. =Titan=: den ærefulle, mektige; kongen; senere ble betydningen begrenset til solen. =Okeanos= betyr sannsynligvis flom. =Tethys=: den som nærer, ammen. =Hyperion=: den som vandrer i det høye;[423] solen. =Thea=: den vakre, skinnende; månen. Hun kalles av Homer Euryphaëssa, den vidt skinnende. =Iapetos=: senderen, kasteren, såret. =Themis=: det som er etablert, lov. =Mnemosyne=: hukommelse. Andre titaner var Koios og Foibe, figurative for himmelens strålende lys; Kreios og Eurybie, mektige krefter, sannsynligvis fra havet; Ofion, den store slangen, og Eurynome, den vidt herskende, som ifølge Apollonios Rhodios hersket over titanene inntil Kronos kastet dem ut i Okeanos eller ned i Tartaros.

=Kronos= (gresk Kronos) er, som navnet viser, guden for modning, innhøsting, modenhet. =Rhea= kommer fra Lilleasia, og ble der tilbedt som Moder Jord, boende skapende blant fjellene. Kronos (Kronos) har blitt naturlig, men feilaktig, identifisert med Khronos, personifikasjonen av Tiden, som, idet den bringer alle ting til en slutt, fortærer sitt eget avkom; og også med den latinske Saturnus, som, som en gud for jordbruk og innhøsting, ble avbildet med beskjæringskniv i hånden, og betraktet som herren over en gammel gullalder.

De tre =Kyklopene= var Brontes, Steropes og Arges. Kyklop betyr den rundøyde. =Hekatoncheirene= var Briareos, den sterke, også kalt Aigaion; Kottos, slageren; Gyes eller Gyges, springeren eller forkrøpleren. Gyges kalles av Horats (Carm. 2, 17, 14) Centimanus – den hundrehendte.

=Illustrerende.= Milton, i Paradise Lost, 10, 581, viser til tradisjonen om Ofion og Eurynome, som «hadde først herredømmet over det høye Olympos, derfra av Saturn fordrevet». =Hyperion=: se Shakespeares Hamlet, «Hyperions lokker, Joves panne selv». Også Henrik V, IV, i; Troilus og Cressida, II, iii; Titus Andronicus, V, iii; Gray, Progress of Poesy, «Hyperions marsj de ser, og glitrende krigspiler»; Spenser, Prothalamion, «hete Titans stråler». Om =Okeanos=, Ben Jonson, Neptuns triumf. Om =Saturn=, se Shakespeare, Stor ståhei for ingenting, I, iii; 2 Henrik IV, II, iv; Cymbeline, II, v; Titus Andronicus, II, iii; IV, iii; Milton, Paradise Lost, 1. 512, 519, 583, og Il Penseroso, 24. Se Robert Buchanan, Skyland, «En som en Titan kald» osv.; Keats, Hyperion; B. W. Procter, Saturns fall.

=Innen kunsten.= Helios (Hyperion) stiger opp av havet: skulptur av østpedimentet på frisen til Parthenon (British Museum). Mnemosyne: D. G. Rossetti (krayong og olje).

=5.= Homer gjør Zevs (Jupiter) til den eldste av sønnene til Kronos; Hesiod gjør ham til den yngste, i samsvar med en utbredt vill skikk som gjør det yngste barnet til hovedarving. – LANG, Myth, Ritual, etc., 1, 297. Ifølge andre legender ble Zevs født i Arkadia, eller til og med i Epirus ved Dodona, hvor hans hellige lund var. I begge tilfeller ble han oppfostret av stedets nymfer. Ifølge Hesiod, Theog. 730, ble han født i en hule på fjellet Dikte på Kreta.

=6. Atlas= var ifølge andre fortellinger ikke dømt til å bære himmelen før etter møtet med Persevs.

=8.= Se Miltons Hymn on the Nativity, «Ikke =Tyfon= diger som ender i slangevrid». Uhyret kalles også Tyfoevs (Hesiod, Theog. 1137). Navnet betyr å ryke, å brenne. Uhyret personifiserer ilddamp som kommer fra underjordiske steder. Andre berømte =giganter= var Mimas, Polybotes, Efialtes, Rhoitos, Klytios. Se Preller, 1, 60. Briareos (egentlig en Centimanus) blir ofte regnet blant gigantene.

=Illustrerende.= Shakespeare, Troilus og Cressida, I, ii; Milton, Paradise Lost, 1, 199, og Hymn on the Nativity, 226; M. Arnold, Empedokles, Akt 2; Pope, Dunciad, 4, 66. For giganter generelt, se Milton, Paradise Lost, 3, 464; 11. 642, 688; Samson Agonistes, 148.

=10-15. [424] =Epimetevs=: ettertanke. Ifølge Aiskhylos (Prometevs i lenker) var Zevs' (Jupiters) skjebne bare betinget. Hvis han nektet å sette Prometevs fri, og derfor, uvitende om hemmeligheten, giftet seg med Thetis, som Prometevs visste om at hennes sønn skulle bli større enn sin far, da ville Zevs bli styrtet. Hvis derimot Zevs selv befridde Prometevs, ville den titanen avsløre sin hemmelighet og Zevs ville unnslippe både ekteskapet og dets skjebnesvangre resultat. Aiskhylos' Prometevs befridd er tapt; men navnet indikerer at i fortsettelsen blir titanen befridd fra lenkene sine.

Og fra hint i Prometevs i lenker kan vi slutte at denne frigjøringen skulle skje på den måten som er nevnt ovenfor, ved at Prometevs advarte Zevs om å gifte bort Thetis til Pelevs (hvis sønn, Akilles, viste seg å være større enn sin far, – se =191=); eller ved inngripen fra Herakles som skulle nedstamme i trettende generasjon fra Zevs og Io (se =161= og =C. 149=); eller ved det frivillige offeret til kentauren Kheiron, som, da Zevs skulle kaste Prometevs og hans klippe ned i Hades, var bestemt til å erstatte titanen, og slik ved stedfortredende forsoning gjenopprette ham til livet i den øvre verden. =Sikyon= (eller Mekone): en by på Peloponnes, nær Korint.

=Illustrerende.= Milton, Paradise Lost, «Mer yndig enn =Pandora= som gudene utstyrte med alle sine gaver». Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus, II, i, 16.

=Dikt.= D. G. Rossetti, Pandora; Longfellow, Mask of Pandora, Prometheus, and Epimetheus; Thos. Parnell, Hesiod, or the Rise of Woman. =Prometevs=, av Byron, Lowell, H. Coleridge, Robert Bridges; Prometevs i lenker, av Mrs. Browning; oversettelser av Aiskhylos, Prometevs i lenker, Augusta Webster, E. H. Plumptre; Shelley, Prometevs befridd; R. H. Horne, Prometheus, the Fire-bringer; E. Myers, The Judgment of Prometheus; George Cabot Lodge, Herakles, et drama. Se Byrons Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte. =Gullalderen=: Chaucer, The Former Age (Ætas Prima); Milton, Hymn on the Nativity.

=Innen kunsten.= Antikk: Prometevs befridd, vasemaleri (Monuments Inédits, Roma og Paris). Moderne: Thorvaldsens skulptur, Minerva og Prometevs. Pandora: Sichel (olje), Rossetti (krayong og olje), F. S. Church (akvarell).

=16. Dante= (Durante) =degli Alighieri= ble født i Firenze i 1265. Forvist av sine politiske motstandere i 1302 forble han i eksil til sin død, som inntraff i Ravenna i 1321. Hans Vita Nuova (Nytt liv), som forteller om hans ideelle kjærlighet til Beatrice Portinari, ble skrevet mellom 1290 og 1300; hans store dikt, Divina Commedia (Den guddommelige komedie) består av tre deler – Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso – og ble skrevet i eksilårene. » =John Milton= (f. 1608) ble av borgerkrigens press, 1641–1649, revet bort fra poesi, musikk og kunst, som han flittig hadde dyrket, og ut i politikkens og krigens stormfulle hav. =Cervantes= (1547–1616), forfatteren av den største spanske romanse, Don Quijote. Hans liv var fullt av eventyr, savn, lidelse, med bare korte perioder av lykke og berømmelse. Han utmerket seg i slaget ved Lepanto i 1571; men i 1575 ble han tatt til fange av algeriske kaperfartøyer og forble fem år i hardt fangenskap.

Etter sin tilbakekomst til Spania ble han ignorert av makthaverne. I hele tjue år kjempet han for sitt daglige brød. =Korybanter=: Kybeles prester, hvis fester var voldsomme, og hvis tilbedelse besto av dans og støy som minnet om slag.

=18. Astraia= ble plassert blant stjernene som stjernebildet Virgo, jomfruen. Hennes mor var Themis (Rettferdighet). Astraia holder opp et par vekter, der hun veier de motstridende krav fra parter. De gamle dikterne profeterte at disse gudinnene og gullalderen skulle vende tilbake. Se også Popes Messias, –

Alle forbrytelser skal opphøre, og gammel svik skal falle, Tilbakevendende Rettferdighet løfter opp sin vektskål: og Miltons Hymn on the Nativity, 14, 15. I Paradise Lost, 4, 998 ff., finnes en annen forestilling om de gylne vekter, «mellom Astraia og Skorpionens tegn». Emerson moraliserer myten i sin Astraia.

=19-20. Illustrerende.= B. W. Procter, The flood of Thessaly. Se Ovids berømte fortelling om de fire tidsaldre og syndfloden, Metamorphoses, 1, 89-415. =Devkalion=: Bayard Taylor, Prince Deukalion; Milton, Paradise Lost, 11, 12.

=Fortolkende.= Denne myten kombinerer to fortellinger om hellenernes (eller de innfødte grekernes) opprinnelse – én, i samsvar med hvilken hellenerne, som jordfødte, hevdet å stamme fra Pyrrha (den røde jorden); den andre og eldre, der Devkalion ble fremstilt som den eneste overlevende etter syndfloden, men likevel som grunnleggeren av folket (gresk laós), som han skapte ved å kaste steiner (gresk lâes) bak seg. Myten stammer derfor fra en utilsiktet ordlek. Selv om Pyrrha til slutt av mytemakerne ble gjort til Devkalions hustru, ble den eldre myten om folkets opprinnelse fra steiner bevart. Se Max Müller, Sci. Relig., London, 1873, s. 64.

=21.= For slektstavle for Inakhos', Foronevs', Pelasgos' og Ios ætt, se tabell D. Pelasgos blir ofte regnet som sønnesønn, ikke sønn, av Foronevs. For etterkommerne av Devkalion og Hellen, se tabell I i denne kommentaren.

=22.= I den følgende slektstavlen (A) er navnene på de store Olympos-gudene trykket med halvfet skrift. Latinske former av navn eller latinske erstatninger brukes.

=Illustrerende.= Om =Hellas' guder=, se E. A. Bowrings oversettelse av Schillers Die Götter Griechenlands, og Bayard Taylors Masque of the Gods. Om =Olympos=, se Lewis Morris, The Epic of Hades. Allusjoner florerer; f.eks. Shakespeare, Troilus og Cressida, III, iii; Julius Cæsar, III, i; IV, iii; Hamlet, V, i; Milton, Paradise Lost, 1, 516; 7, 7; 10, 583; Pope, The Rape of the Lock, 5, 48, og Windsor Forest, 33, 234; E. C. Stedman, News from Olympia. Se også E. W. Gosse, Greece and England (On Viol and Flute).

=23. = I følge Mr. Gladstone (No. Am. April, 1892) var det omtrent tjue olympiske guddommer:[425] (1) De fem virkelig store gudene, Zevs, Hera, Poseidon, Apollon og Athene; (2) Hefaistos, Ares, Hermes, Iris, Leto, Artemis, Themis, Afrodite, Dione, Paieon (eller Paion) og Hebe, – også vanligvis til stede blant de forsamlede udødelige; (3) Demeter, Persefone, Dionysos og Thetis, hvis krav er mer eller mindre uklare. Ifølge samme autoritet var de =særpregede egenskapene til de homeriske gudene= som følger: (1) de var udødelige; (2) de var inkorporert i menneskeskikkelse; (3) de nøt en makt som langt overgikk den som dødelige besitter; (4) de var imidlertid (med mulig unntak av Athene, som aldri er uvitende, aldri lurt, aldri hindret) alle underlagt visse begrensninger i energi og kunnskap; (5) de var også underlagt kroppslige behov og menneskelige følelser.

Den =olympiske religionen= som helhet var mer opptatt av nasjoner, stater, offentlige anliggender, enn av enkeltpersoner og individuell karakter; og i så måte skiller den seg ifølge Mr. Gladstone fra kristendommen. Han hevder imidlertid at til tross for gudenes sporadiske umoral, «virker deres generelle styre ikke bare for rettferdighet», men er rettet mot å gjøre den triumferende. Zevs sier for eksempel i den olympiske forsamlingen: «Menneskene klager over oss guder og sier at vi er kilden som onder kommer fra; men de lider også selv ulykker utenfor skjebnens gang, gjennom sin egen fordervede overtredelse.» [426]

=24-25. Zevs.= På sanskrit Dyaus, på latin Jovis, på tysk Tiu. Det samme navnet for den allmektige (lyset eller himmelen) ble sannsynligvis brukt tusenvis av år før Homer, eller den sanskritiske Bibelen (Vedaene). Det er ikke bare den blå himmelen, ei heller himmelen personifisert, – ikke bare tilbedelse av et naturfenomen, men av Faderen som er i himmelen. Slik finner vi i Vedaene Dyaus pitar, på gresk Zeu pater, på latin Jupiter – alle betyr lysets fader. – MAX MÜLLER, Sci. Relig. 171, 172. =Orakel=: ordet betegner også svarene som gis ved helligdommen.

=Illustrerende.= Allusjoner til Jove på annenhver side hos Milton, Dryden, Pope, Prior, Gray og enhver poet fra den elisabethanske og augustanske perioden. Om =Jupiters kjærlighetsaffærer= og de andre gudene, se Milton, Paradise Regained, 2, 182. =Dodona=: Tennysons Talking Oak:

Den tessaliske vekst, På hvilken den mørke ringduen satt, Og talte mystisk setning...

Dikt: Lewis Morris, Zeus, i The Epic of Hades.

=Innen kunsten.= Foruten avbildningene av Jupiter nevnt i teksten kan nevnes den på den østlige frisen til Parthenon; Jupiter Otricoli i Vatikanet; også Jupiter og Juno (maleri) av Annibale Carracci; Jupiter (skulptur) av Benvenuto Cellini.

TABELL A. DE STORE OLYMPOSGUDENE

Uranos =Gæa +-- Kronos | =Rhea | +-- =Vesta= | +-- Ceres | +-- =Juno= | | +=Jupiter= | | +-- Hebe | | +-- =Mars= | | +-- =Vulkan= | +-- Pluto | +-- Neptun | +-- =Jupiter= | +-- Minerva | ==Juno= | +-- Hebe (se over) | +-- =Mars= (se over) | +-- =Vulkan= (se over) | =Latona | +-- =Apollo= | +-- =Diana= | =Dione | +-- =Venus= | =Maia | +-- =Merkur= | =Ceres | +-- Proserpina | =Semele | +-- Bacchus | =Alcmene | +-- Herkules +-- Rhea | =Kronos | +-- Vesta (se over) | +-- Ceres (se over) | +-- Juno (se over) | +-- Pluto (se over) | +-- Neptun (se over) | +-- Jupiter (se over) +-- C[oe]us | =Ph[oe]be | +-- Latona | =Jupiter | +-- Apollo (se over) | +-- Diana (se over) +-- Ph[oe]be | =C[oe]us | +-- Latona (se over) +-- Iapetus +-- Epimethius | +-- Dione | =Jupiter | +-- Venus (se over) +-- Prometevs +-- Atlas +-- Maia =Jupiter +-- Merkur (se over)

=26. Juno= ble av romerne kalt Juno Lucina, den spesielle gudinnen for barnefødsler. Til hennes ære holdt hustruer festivalen Matronalia den første mars hvert år. Det latinske =Juno= står for Diou-n-on, fra stammen Diove, og er femininparallellen til Jovis, akkurat som det greske Dione (en av Zevs' elskerinner) er femininformen av Zevs. Disse navnene (og Diana også) kommer fra roten div, 'å skinne', 'å opplyse'. Det er mange likhetspunkter mellom den italiske Juno og den greske Dione (identifisert med Hera, som Hera-Dione). Begge er gudinner for månen (?), for kvinner, for ekteskap; for begge er kua (med halvmåneformede horn) hellig. Se Roscher, 21, 576-579. Men Overbeck insisterer på at Zevs' elskerinner er jordgudinner: «Himmelens regn (Zevs) faller ikke på månen.»

=Illustrerende.= W. S. Landor, Hymn of Terpander to Juno; Lewis Morris, Heré, i The Epic of Hades.

=Innen kunsten.= Av Juno-statuene var den mest berømte den som ble laget av Polykleitos for hennes tempel mellom Argos og Mykene. Den var av gull og elfenben. Se Paus. 2, 17, 4. Gudinnen satt på en trone av praktfulle proporsjoner; hun bar en krone hvorpå det var avbildet gratier og horer; i den ene hånden holdt hun et granateple, i den andre et septer med en gjøk på toppen. Av de bevarte avbildningene av Juno er de mest berømte den argiviske Hera (fig. 9 i teksten), torsoen i Wien fra Efesos, Hera Vatikanet i Roma, den lille bronsestatuetten i Mynt- og antikvitetsskapet i Wien, den Farnese-bysten i Nasjonalmuseet i Napoli, den Ludovisi-bysten i villaen med samme navn i Roma, det pompeianske veggmaleriet av bryllupet mellom Zevs og Hera (gjengitt av Baumeister, Denkmäler 1, 649; se også Roscher, 13, 2127), og Juno fra Lanuvium.

=27. Athene= (Athena) har noen trekk av krigersk art til felles med de norrøne valkyrjene, men hun er langt på vei en mer ideell skikkelse. Den beste beskrivelsen av gudinnen finnes i Homers Iliade, 5, 730 ff.

Avledningen av =Athene= er uviss (Preller). Beslektet, sier noen, med aithêr, den klare øvre luft; sier andre, med ordet anthos, 'en blomst' – jomfruelig blomstring; eller (se Roscher, s. 684) til athêr, 'spydspiss'. Max Müller avleder Athene fra roten ah, som gir det sanskritiske Ahanâ og det greske Dafne, Morgengryet (?). Derfor er Athene morgengry-gudinnen; men hun er også visdommens gudinne, fordi «gudinnen som fikk folk til å våkne ble ufrivillig oppfattet som gudinnen som fikk folk til å vite» (Science of Language, 1, 548-551). Dette er dårlig filologi.

Epiteter anvendt på Athene er den strålende-øyde, den grå-øyde, den aigis-bærende, den utrettelige datter av Zevs.

Festivalen =Panathenaia= ble feiret i Athen årlig til minne om foreningen av de attiske stammene. Se =C. 176-181=.

Navnet =Pallas= karakteriserer gudinnen som svingeren av lyn. Hennes Palladium – eller hellige bilde – holder alltid høyt i været det svingte spydet.

=Minerva=, eller =Menerva=, er knyttet til latinsk mens, gresk ménos, sanskrit manas, 'sinn'; ikke til det latinske mane, 'morgen'. Forholdet er ikke særlig plausibelt mellom dagens oppvåkning og tankens oppvåkning (Max Müller, Sci. Lang, 1, 552).

For betydningen av Gorgon, se kommentaren til myten om Persevs.

=Illustrerende.= Byron, Childe Harold, 4, 96, den veltalende passasjen som begynner:

Kan tyranner bare overvinnes av tyranner, Og Finne Friheten ingen forkjemper og intet barn Slik som Columbia så oppstå da hun Sprang frem som en Pallas, bevæpnet og ubesudlet?

Shakespeare, Stormen, IV, i; As You Like It, I, iii; The Winter's Tale, IV, iii; Perikles, II, iii; Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 500; Comus, 701; Arcades, 23; Lewis Morris, Athene, i The Epic of Hades; Byron, Childe Harold, 2. 1-15, 87, 91; Ruskins forelesninger kalt «The Queen of the Air» (Athene); Thomas Woolners Pallas Athene, i Tiresias.

_= Den fineste av statuene av denne gudinnen var av Feidias, i Parthenon, eller Athene-templet, i Athen. Athene fra Parthenon har forsvunnet; men det er god grunn til å tro at vi har, i flere bevarte statuer og byster, kunstnerens forestilling. (Se frontispis, den lemniske Athene, og fig. 53, Hope-Athene, antikk marmor på Deepdene, Surrey.) Figuren er preget av alvorlig og verdig skjønnhet, og frihet fra ethvert forbigående uttrykk; med andre ord, av ro. Den viktigste bevarte kopien er fra romertiden. Gudinnen ble fremstilt stående; i den ene hånden et spyd, i den andre en statue av Seier. Hjelmen hennes, høyt dekorert, var kronet av en Sfinks. Statuen var førti fot høy, og som Jupiter, dekket av elfenben og gull. Øynene var av marmor, og sannsynligvis malt for å representere iris og pupill. Parthenon, som denne statuen sto i, ble også bygget under ledelse og tilsyn av Feidias.

Dets ytre var beriket med skulpturer, mange av dem fra den samme kunstnerens hånd. Elgin-marmorene i British Museum er en del av dem. Også bemerkelsesverdige er Minerva Bellica (Kapitol, Roma); Athene på Akropolismuseet; Athene fra Aigina-marmorene (Glyptoteket, München); Minerva Medica (Vatikanet); Athene fra Velletri i Louvre. (Se fig. 10.) I moderne skulptur er spesielt utmerkede Thorvaldsens Minerva og Prometevs, og Cellinis Minerva (på sokkelen til hans Persevs). I moderne maleri, Tintorettos Minerva beseirer Mars.

=28.= Mens den latinske guden =Mars= tilsvarer Ares, har han også ikke så få likhetspunkter med den greske Foibos; for begge navn, Mars og Foibos, indikerer egenskapen skinnende. I Roma var Campus Martius (Mars' mark) hellig for denne guddommen. Her foregikk militære manøvrer og idrettskonkurranser; her ble Mars tilbedt med ofring, og her sto hans tempel, der hans prester, Salii, voktet over det hellige spydet og skjoldet, Ancile, som falt ned fra himmelen under Numa Pompilius' styre. Generaler tryglet Mars om seier, og viet ham krigsbytte. Se Roscher, s. 478, 486, om den grunnleggende betydningen, filosofisk og fysisk, av Ares. Om avledningen av det latinske navnet Mars, se Roscher (slutten av artikkelen om Apollon).

= Av arkaiske figurer forestiller den på den såkalte François-vasen i Firenze =Ares= skjegget og med rustningen til en homerisk kriger. er han fremstilt uten skjegg, stående med spyd og hjelm og, vanligvis, chlamys (kort krigerkappe); slik er marmorstatuen av Ares (kalt den Borghesiske Akilles) i Louvre. Det finnes en senere type (foretrukket i Roma) av guden i korintisk hjelm som er skjøvet tilbake fra pannen, den høyre hånden støtter seg på et spyd, i den venstre et sverd med spissen vendt oppover, over venstre arm en chlamys_. , – en sittende figur, vakker i form og trekk, med en Eros som leker ved føttene hans. (Se fig. 11.) Moderne skulptur: Thorvaldsens relieff, Mars og Cupid. Moderne maleri, Rafaels Mars (tekst, fig. 12).

=29.= Om avledningen av =Hefaistos=, se Roscher, s. 2037. Fra gresk aphê, 'å tenne', eller pha, 'å skinne', eller spha, 'å brenne'. Den latinske =Vulkan=, mens han er en ildgud, blir av romerne ikke fremstilt som besittende teknisk dyktighet. Det sies at Romulus bygget ham et tempel i Roma og innstiftet Vulcanalia – en festival til gudens ære. Navnet Vulcanus, eller Volcanus, blir populært knyttet til latinsk fulgere, 'å blinke' eller 'lyne', fulgur et 'lynglimt', osv. Det er ganske naturlig at, i mange legender, spiller ilden en aktiv rolle i skapelsen av mennesket. Den primitive troen til den indo-germanske rasen var at ildguden, da han steg ned til jorden, ble det første mennesket; og at derfor menneskets ånd var sammensatt av ild. Vulkan blir også kalt av romerne Mulciber, fra mulceo, 'å mykne'.

=Illustrerende.= Shakespeare, Helligtrekongersaften, V, i; Stor ståhei for ingenting, I, i; Troilus og Cressida, I, iii; Hamlet, III, ii; Milton, Paradise Lost, 1, 740:

Fra morgen Til middag falt han, fra middag til duggvåt aften, En sommerdag; og med den synkende sol Datt han fra senit, som en fallende stjerne, På Lemnos, den egeiske øy.

=Innen kunsten.= Det finnes forskjellige antikke illustrasjoner av guden som en smed med hammer, eller ved smia (tekst, fig. 13); en av ham som arbeider med kyklopene; et vasemaleri av ham som pryder Pandora; en av ham som bistår ved Minervas fødsel; og en av hans tilbakekomst til Olympos ledet av Bacchus og Comus. Av moderne malerier er følgende bemerkelsesverdige: J. A. Wiertz, Vulkans smie; Velasquez, Vulkans smie (Museum, Madrid) (tekst, fig. 56); Vulkans smie av Tintoretto. Thorvaldsens statuariske verk, Vulkan som smir piler for Cupid, er med rette berømt.

=30. Kastalia=: i skråningene av Parnassos, hellig for Apollon og musene. =Kefisos=: i Fokis og Boiotia. (En annen Kefisos renner nær Athen.)

blir av mange forskere forklart som symbolske for solens årlige løp. Apollon er født av Leto, som ifølge hypotesen er Natten som morgensolen kommer ut fra. Hans konflikt med dragen minner om Siegfrieds kamp og St. Georgs. Drage blir tolket forskjellig som symbol på mørke, mefittiske damper, eller vinterens krefter, som blir beseiret av vårsolens stråler. Dragen kalles Delfyne eller Python. Det sistnevnte navnet kan ganske enkelt stamme fra den delen av Fokis (Pytho) der byen Delfi lå, eller det igjen fra den greske roten pûth, 'å råtne', fordi slangen ble etterlatt der av Apollon for å gå i forråtnelse; eller fra gresk puth, 'å spørre', med henvisning til konsultasjon av det delfiske eller pythiske orakelet. , 2, 197. Apollon kalles også =Lykios=, som betyr, ikke ulvedreper, slik det noen ganger hevdes, for ulven er hellig for Apollon, men enten ulveguden (som arver en tidligere ulvekult) eller den gylne guden av Lys.

Se Preller og Roscher. Denne avledningen er mer sannsynlig enn den fra Lykia i Lilleasia, der guden visstnok opprinnelig ble tilbedt. Å forklare visse rasjonelle myter om Apollon som refererende til solens årlige og daglige reiser er forsvarlig. Å forklare de ville og meningsløse levningene av Apollon-myten på den måten er umulig.

= De viktigste var som følger: (1) =Delfinia=, i mai, for å feire den unge solens milde innflytelse på vannene, ved å åpne sjøfart, gjenopprette varme og liv til bølgenes skapninger, spesielt til delfinene, som ble høyt verdsatt av de overtroiske sjøfarerne, fiskerne, handelsmennene, osv. (2) =Thargelia=, i den greske måneden med det navnet, vår mai, som varslet den varme årstidens ankomst. Formålet med denne festivalen var todelt: å formilde solguden og avverge sommerens sykdom; å feire vegetasjonens modning og bringe takk for førstegrøden. Disse festivalene ble holdt i Athen, Delos og andre steder. (3) Den =hyakintiske= fasten og festen i Sparta, som i begge trekk tilsvarte den thargeliske. Den ble holdt i juli, i Hundestjernens, Sirius', trykkende dager. (4) Den =karneiske= i Sparta, feiret i august. Den la til de formildende trekkene fra den hyakintiske, en takksigelse for vinhøsten.

(5) En annen vinhøstfest var den =pyanepsiske= i Athen. (6) =Daphnephoria=: «Kjent for mange engelskmenn fra Sir Frederick Leightons bilde. En olivenkvist bar en sentral kule av messing, under hvilken det var en mindre kule, og derfra ble det hengt små kuler.» «Den største kulen betyr solen, den mindre månen, de bittesmå kulene stjernene, og de tre hundre og sekstifem laurbærkransene brukt under høytiden forstås å symbolisere dagene.» , 2. 194, 195. Apollon kalles også =Sminthios=, eller Museguden, fordi han ble betraktet enten som beskytter eller som ødelegger av mus. I Troas ble mus fôret i hans tempel; andre steder ble han hedret for å befri landet for dem. Som Mr. , 2, 201), er dette forståelig «dersom skadedyrene som en gang hadde vært hellige ble en plage i senere generasjoners øyne.»

= Man hadde observert på et svært tidlig tidspunkt at geitene som beitet på Parnassos ble kastet i kramper når de nærmet seg en bestemt lang, dyp kløft i fjellsiden. Dette skyldtes en særegen damp som steg opp fra hulen, og en viss geitegjeter sies å ha prøvd virkningen på seg selv. Ved å innånde den berusende luften ble han påvirket på samme måte som feet hadde blitt; og innbyggerne i det omliggende landet, ute av stand til å forklare omstendigheten, tilskrev de krampeaktige ropene han utstøtte mens han var under påvirkning av utdunstningene til en guddommelig inspirasjon. Faktum ble raskt spredt, og et tempel ble reist på stedet. Den profetiske innflytelsen ble først tilskrevet forskjellige gudinner Jord, til Neptun, Themis og andre, men det ble til slutt tilskrevet Apollon, og bare til ham. En prestinne ble utpekt, hvis oppgave det var å innånde den hellige luften, og hun ble kalt Pythia.

Hun ble forberedt til denne plikten ved foregående renselse ved Kastalia-kilden, og kronet med laurbær ble hun sittende på en trefot som var tilsvarende prydet, og som var plassert over kløften der den guddommelige inspirasjonen kom fra. Hennes inspirerte ord mens hun var i denne situasjonen ble tolket av prestene.

Andre berømte orakler var det til =Trofonios= i Boiotia og det til den egyptiske =Apis=. Ettersom de som steg ned i hulen ved Lebadea for å konsultere Trofonios' orakel ble lagt merke til å komme tilbake nedslåtte og melankolske, oppsto ordtaket som ble anvendt på en person med lavt humør, «Han har konsultert Trofonios' orakel.»

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

At Memphis the sacred bull Apis gave answer to those who consulted him, by the manner in which he received or rejected what was presented to him. If the bull refused food from the hand of the inquirer, it was considered an unfavorable sign, and the contrary when he received it.

It used to be questioned whether oracular responses ought to be ascribed to mere human contrivance or to the agency of evil spirits. The latter opinion would of course obtain during ages of superstition, when evil spirits were credited with an influence over human affairs. A third theory has been advanced since the phenomena of mesmerism have attracted attention: that something like the mesmeric trance was induced in the Pythoness, and the faculty of clairvoyance called into action.

Scholars have also sought to determine when the pagan oracles ceased to give responses. Ancient Christian writers assert that they became silent at the birth of Christ, and were heard no more after that date; Milton adopts this view in his Hymn on the Nativity, and in lines of solemn and elevated beauty pictures the consternation of the heathen idols at the advent of the Saviour:

The Oracles are dumb; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the archèd roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathèd spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.

=Illustrative.= Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 2, 2; 1, 2, 29; 1, 11, 31; 1, 12, 2. Sir Philip Sidney, Astrophel and Stella; as, for instance, the pretty conceit beginning

Ph[oe]bus was judge between Jove, Mars, and Love, Of those three gods, whose arms the fairest were.

Dekker, The Sun's Darling; Burns (as in the Winter Night) and other Scotch song-writers find it hard to keep Ph[oe]bus out of their verses; Spenser, Epithalamion; Shakespeare, Midsummer Night's Dream, II, i (Apollo and Daphne); Cymbeline (Cloten's Serenade); Love's Labour's Lost, IV, iii; Taming of the Shrew, Induction ii; Winter's Tale, II, i; III, i; III, ii; Titus Andronicus, IV, i; Drayton, Song 8; Tickell, To Apollo making Love; Swift, Apollo Outwitted; Pope, Essay on Criticism, 34; Dunciad, 4, 116; Prologue to Satires, 231; Miscellaneous, 7, 16; Armstrong, The Art of Preserving Health.

=Poems.= Drummond of Hawthornden, Song to Ph[oe]bus; Keats, Hymn to Apollo; A. Mary F. Robinson, A Search for Apollo, and In Apollo's Garden; Shelley, Homer's Hymn to Apollo; Aubrey De Vere, Lines under Delphi; Lewis Morris, Apollo, in The Epic of Hades; R. W. Dixon, Apollo Pythius.

=The Python.= Milton, Paradise Lost, 10, 531; Shelley, Adonais. =Oracles.= Milton, Paradise Lost, 1. 12, 515; 5, 382; 10, 182; Paradise Regained, 1. 395, 430, 456, 463; 3, 13; 4, 275; Hymn on the Nativity, 173. In Cowper's poem of Yardley Oak there are mythological allusions appropriate to this subject. On Dodona, Byron, Childe Harold, 2, 53; Tennyson, The Talking Oak. Byron alludes to the oracle of Delphi when speaking of Rousseau, whose writings he conceives did much to bring on the French Revolution: Childe Harold, 3, 81,--

For then he was inspired, and from him came, As from the Pythian's mystic cave of yore, Those oracles which set the world in flame, Nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more.

=_ One of the most esteemed of all the remains of ancient sculpture is the statue of Apollo, called the Belvedere from the name of the apartment of the Pope's palace at Rome in which it is placed (see Fig. 15). The artist is unknown. It is conceded to be a work of Roman art, of about the first century of our era (and follows a type fashioned by a Greek sculptor of the Hellenistic period, probably in bronze). A variation of the type has been discovered in a bronze statuette which represents Apollo holding in the left hand an ægis. Some scholars have therefore surmised that the Apollo of the original was similarly equipped. The Belvedere Apollo, however, is a standing figure, in marble, more than seven feet high, naked except for the cloak which is fastened around the neck and hangs over the extended left arm. It is restored to represent the god in the moment when he has shot the arrow to destroy the monster Python.

The victorious divinity is in the act of stepping forward. The left arm which seems to have held the bow is outstretched, and the head is turned in the same direction. In attitude and proportion the graceful majesty of the figure is unsurpassed. The effect is completed by the countenance, where, on the perfection of youthful godlike beauty, there dwells the consciousness of triumphant power. To this statue Byron alludes in Childe Harold, 4, 161:

Or view the Lord of the unerring bow, The God of life, and poetry, and light,-- The Sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow All radiant from his triumph in the fight; The shaft hath just been shot--the arrow bright With an immortal's vengeance; in his eye And nostril, beautiful disdain, and might And majesty flash their full lightnings by, Developing in that one glance the Deity.

The standing figure in our text reproduces this conception.[427] Also famous in sculpture are the "Adonis" Apollo of the Vatican (Fig. 14, text); the Greek bronze from Thessaly (Fig. 16, text); the Palatine Apollo in the Vatican (Fig. 66, text); the Apollo Cithar[oe]dus of the National Museum, Naples, and the Glyptothek, Munich; the Lycian Apollo; the Apollo Nomios; Apollo of Thera; the Apollo of Michelangelo (National Museum, Florence). A painting of romantic interest is Paolo Veronese's St. Christina refusing to adore Apollo. Of symbolic import is the Apollo (Sunday) by Raphael in the Vatican. Ph[oe]bus and Boreas by J. F. Millet.

=32. Latona.= A theory of the numerous =love-affairs= of Jupiter is given in =24= of the text. =Delos= is the central island of the Cyclades group in the Ægean. With its temple of Apollo it was exceedingly prosperous.

=Interpretative.= Latona (Leto), according to ancient interpreters, was night,--the shadow, therefore, of Juno (Hera), if Hera be the splendor of heaven. But the early myth-makers would hardly have reasoned so abstrusely. It is not at all certain that the name Leto means darkness (Preller 1, 190, note 4); and even if light is born of or after darkness, the sun (Apollo) and the moon (Artemis, or Diana) can hardly be considered to be twins of Darkness (Leto), for they do not illuminate the heavens at the same time.--LANG, Myth, Ritual, etc., 2, 199.

=Illustrative.= Byron's allusion to Delos in Don Juan, 3, 86:

The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Ph[oe]bus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.

See Milton's Sonnet, "I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs," for allusion to Latona.

=In Art.= In the shrine of Latona in Delos there was, in the days of Athenæus, a shapeless wooden idol.

=Diana.= The Latin =Diana= means either "goddess of the bright heaven," or "goddess of the bright day." She is frequently identified with Artemis, Hecate, Luna, and Selene. According to one tradition, Apollo and Diana were born at =Ortygia=, near Ephesus. =Diana of the Ephesians=, referred to (Acts xix, 28), was a goddess of not at all the maidenly characteristics that belonged to the Greek Artemis (Roscher, p. 591; A. Lang, 2, 217). Other titles of Artemis are Munychia, the moon-goddess; Calliste, the fair, or the she-bear; Orthia, the severe, worshiped among the Taurians with human sacrifices; Agrotera, the huntress; Pythia; Eileithyia, goddess of childbirth; Cynthia, born on Mount Cynthus.

=Illustrative.= Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 7, 5; 1, 12, 7; Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, V, i, "Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn," etc.; Twelfth Night, I, iv; Midsummer Night's Dream, I, iv; All's Well that Ends Well, I, iii; IV, ii; IV, iv; Butler, Hudibras, 3, 2, 1448. =Poems=: B. W. Procter, The Worship of Dian; W. W. Story, Artemis; E. W. Gosse, The Praise of Artemis; E. Arnold, Hymn of the Priestess of Diana; Wordsworth, To Lycoris; Lewis Morris, Artemis, in The Epic of Hades; A. Lang, To Artemis. =Ph[oe]be= (Diana): Spenser, Epithalamion; Keats, To Psyche. =Cynthia= (Diana): Spenser, Prothalamion, Epithalamion; Milton, Hymn on the Nativity; H. K. White, Ode to Contemplation.

= In art the goddess is represented high-girt for the chase, either in the act of drawing an arrow from her quiver or watching her missile in its flight. She is often attended by the hind. Sometimes, as moon-goddess, she bears a torch. Occasionally she is clad in a chiton, or robe of many folds, flowing to her feet. The Diana of the Hind (à la Biche_), in the Palace of the Louvre (see Fig. 18), may be considered the counterpart of the Apollo Belvedere. The attitude much resembles that of Apollo, the sizes correspond and also the styles of execution. The Diana of the Hind is a work of a high order, though by no means equal to the Apollo. The attitude is that of hurried and eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the excitement of the chase. The left hand of the goddess is extended over the forehead of the hind which runs by her side, the right arm reaches backward over the shoulder to draw an arrow from the quiver. Fig.

19 in the text is the Artemis Knagia (Diana Cnagia), named after Cnageus, a servant of Diana who assisted in transferring the statue from Crete to Sparta. In Dresden there is a statue of Artemis in the style of Praxiteles (Fig. 68, text); and in the Louvre an ancient marble called the Artemis of Gabii (Fig. 77, text).

In modern painting, noteworthy are the Diana and her Nymphs of Rubens; Correggio's Diana (Fig. 17); Jules Lefebvre's Diana and her Nymphs; Domenichino's Diana's Chase. Note also the allegorical Luna (Monday) of Raphael in the Vatican; and D. G. Rossetti's Diana, in crayons.

=34. Interpretative.= The worship of =Aphrodite= was probably of Semitic origin, but was early introduced into Greece. The Aphrodite of Hesiod and Homer displays both Oriental and Grecian characteristics. All Semitic nations, except the Hebrews, worshiped a supreme goddess who presided over the moon (or the Star of Love), and over all animal and vegetable life and growth. She was the Istar of the Assyrians, the Astarte of the Ph[oe]nicians, and is the analogue of the Greek Aphrodite and the Latin Venus. See Roscher, p. 390, etc. The native Greek deity of love would appear to have been, however, =Dione=, goddess of the moist and productive soil (=C. 26=), who passes in the Iliad (5. 370, 428) as the mother of Aphrodite, is worshiped at Dodona by the side of Zeus, and is regarded by Euripides as Thyone, mother of Dionysus (Preller I, 259).

The epithets and names most frequently applied to Aphrodite are the Paphian, Cypris (the Cyprus-born), Cytherea, Erycina (from Mount Eryx), Pandemos (goddess of vulgar love), Pelagia (Aphrodite of the sea), Urania (Aphrodite of ideal love), Anadyomene (rising from the water); she is, also, the sweetly smiling, laughter-loving, bright, golden, fruitful, winsome, flower-faced, blushing, swift-eyed, golden-crowned.

She had temples and groves in Paphos, Abydos, Samos, Ephesus, Cyprus, Cythera, in some of which--for instance, Paphos--gorgeous annual festivals were held. See Childe Harold, I, 66.

=Venus= was a deity of extreme antiquity among the Romans, but not of great importance until she had acquired certain attributes of the Eastern Aphrodite. She was worshiped as goddess of love, as presiding over marriage, as the goddess who turns the hearts of men, and, later, even as a goddess of victory. A festival in her honor, called the Veneralia, was held in Rome in April.

=Illustrative.= See Chaucer's Knight's Tale for frequent references to the goddess of love; also the Court of Love; Spenser's Prothalamion, and Epithalamion, "Handmaids of the Cyprian queen"; Shakespeare, Tempest, IV, i; Merchant of Venice, II, vi; Troilus and Cressida, IV, v; Cymbeline, V, v; Romeo and Juliet, II, i; Milton, L'Allegro; Paradise Regained, 2, 214; Comus, 124; Pope, Rape of the Lock 4, 135; Spring, 65; Summer, 61; Thomas Woolner, Pygmalion (Cytherea).

=Poems.= Certain parts of Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis and occasional stanzas in Swinburne's volume, Laus Veneris, may be adapted to illustrative purposes. Chaucer, The Complaint of Mars and Venus; Thomas Wyatt, The Lover prayeth Venus to conduct him to the Desired Haven. See the melodious chorus to Aphrodite in Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon; Lewis Morris, Aphrodite, in The Epic of Hades; Thomas Gordon Hake, The Birth of Venus, in New Symbols; D. G. Rossetti, Sonnets; Venus Verticordia, Venus Victrix.

_= One of the most famous of ancient paintings was the Venus rising from the foam, of Apelles. p. C. Some say that the left hand uplifted held a mirrorlike shield; others, an apple; still others, a trident; and that the goddess was Amphitrite. A masterpiece of Praxiteles was the Venus of Cnidos, based on which are the Venus of the Capitoline in Rome and the Venus de' Medici in Florence. Also the Venus of the Vatican, which is, in my opinion, superior to both. The Venus of the Medici was in the possession of the princes of that name in Rome when, about two hundred years ago, it first attracted attention. , but the authenticity of the inscription is doubtful. There is a story that the artist was employed by public authority to make a statue exhibiting the perfection of female beauty, and that to aid him in his task the most perfect forms the city could supply were furnished him for models. Note Thomson's allusion in the Summer:

So stands the statue that enchants the world; So bending tries to veil the matchless boast, The mingled beauties of exulting Greece.

And Byron's

There too the goddess loves in stone, and fills The air around with beauty.--Childe Harold, 4, 49-53.

One of the most beautiful of the Greek Aphrodites is the Petworth (opp. p. 126, text).

Of modern paintings the most famous are: the Sleeping Venus and other representations of Venus by Titian; the Birth of Venus by Bouguereau; Tintoretto's Cupid, Venus, and Vulcan; Veronese's Venus with Satyr and Cupid. Modern sculpture: Thorwaldsen's Venus with the Apple; Venus and Cupid; Cellini's Venus; Canova's Venus Victrix, and the Venus in the Pitti Gallery; Rossetti's Venus Verticordia (crayons, water colors, oil).

=36. Interpretative.= Max Müller traces =Hermes=, child of the Dawn with its fresh breezes, herald of the gods, spy of the night, to the Vedic Saramâ, goddess of the Dawn. Others translate Saramâ, storm. Roscher derives from the same root as Sarameyas (son of Saramâ), with the meaning Hastener, the swift wind. The invention of the syrinx is attributed also to Pan.

=Illustrative.= To Mercury's construction of the lyre out of a tortoise shell, Gray refers (Progress of Poesy), "Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, Enchanting shell!" etc. See Shakespeare, King John, IV, ii; Henry IV, IV, i; Richard III, II, i; IV, iii; Hamlet, III, iv; Milton, Paradise Lost, 3, "Though by their powerful art they bind Volatile Hermes"; 4, 717; 11, 133; Il Penseroso, 88; Comus, 637, 962. =Poems=: Sir T. Martin, Goethe's Ph[oe]bus and Hermes; Shelley's translation of Homer's Hymn to Mercury.

=In Art.= The Mercury in the Central Museum, Athens; Mercury Belvedere (Vatican); Mercury in Repose (National Museum, Naples). The Hermes by Praxiteles, in Olympia (text, opp. p. 150), and the Hermes Psychopompos leading to the underworld the spirit of a woman who has just died (text, Fig. 20; from a relief sculptured on the tomb of Myrrhina), are especially fine specimens of ancient sculpture.

In modern sculpture: Cellini's Mercury (base of Perseus, Loggia del Lanzi, Florence); Giov. di Bologna's Flying Mercury (bronze, Bargello, Florence: text, opp. p. 330); Thorwaldsen's Mercury. In modern painting: Tintoretto's Mercury and the Graces; Francesco Albani's Mercury and Apollo; Claude Lorrain's Mercury and Battus; Turner's Mercury and Argus; Raphael's allegorical Mercury (Wednesday), Vatican, Rome; and his Mercury with Psyche (Farnese Frescoes).

=37. Interpretative.= The name =Hestia= (Latin Vesta) has been variously derived from roots meaning to sit, to stand, to burn. The two former are consistent with the domestic nature of the goddess; the latter with her relation to the hearth-fire. She is "first of the goddesses," the holy, the chaste, the sacred.

=Illustrative.= Milton, Il Penseroso (Melancholy), "Thee bright-haired Vesta long of yore To solitary Saturn bore," etc.

=38.= (1) =Cupid= (Eros). References and allusions to Cupid throng our poetry. Only a few are here given. Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, I, iv; Merchant of Venice, II, vi; Merry Wives, II, ii; Much Ado About Nothing, I, i; II, i; III, ii; Midsummer Night's Dream, I, i; II, ii; IV, i; Cymbeline, II, iv; Milton, Comus, 445, 1004; Herrick, The Cheat of Cupid; Pope, Rape of the Lock, 5, 102; Dunciad, 4, 308; Moral Essays, 4, 111; Windsor Forest,--on Lord Surrey, "In the same shades the Cupids tuned his lyre To the same notes of love and soft desire."

=Poems.= Chaucer, The Cuckow and Nightingale, or Boke of Cupid (?); Occleve, The Letter of Cupid; Beaumont and Fletcher, Cupid's Revenge, and the Masque, A Wife for a Month; J.G. Saxe, Death and Cupid, on their exchange of arrows, "And that explains the reason why Despite the gods above, The young are often doomed to die, The old to fall in love"; Thomas Ashe, The Lost Eros; Coventry Patmore, The Unknown Eros. Also John Lyly's Campaspe:

Cupid and my Campaspe playd, At cardes for kisses, Cupid payd; He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows, His mother's doves, and teeme of sparows; Looses them too; then, downe he throwes The corrall of his lippe, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how), With these, the cristall of his brow, And then the dimple of his chinne: All these did my Campaspe winne. At last hee set her both his eyes; Shee won, and Cupid blind did rise. O love! has shee done this to thee? What shall (alas!) become of mee?

See also Lang's translation of Moschus, Idyl I, and O. Wilde, The Garden of Eros.

=In Art.= Antique sculpture: the Eros in Naples, ancient marble from an original perhaps by Praxiteles (text, Fig. 21); Eros bending the Bow, in the Museum at Berlin; Cupid bending his Bow (Vatican); Eros with his Bow, in the Capitoline (text, opp. p. 136).

Modern sculpture: Thorwaldsen's Mars and Cupid. Modern paintings: Bouguereau's Cupid and a Butterfly; Raphael's Cupids (among drawings in the Museum at Venice); Burne-Jones' Cupid (in series with Pyramus and Thisbe); Raphael Mengs' Cupid sharpening his Arrow; Guido Reni's Cupid; Van Dyck's Sleeping Cupid. See also under Psyche, =C. 101=.

=Hymen.= See Sir Theodore Martin's translations of the Collis O Heliconii, and the Vesper adest, juvenes, of Catullus (LXI and LXII); Milton, Paradise Lost, 11, 591; L'Allegro, 125; Pope, Chorus of Youths and Virgins.

(2) =Hebe.= Thomas Lodge's Sonnet to Phyllis, "Fair art thou, Phyllis, ay, so fair, sweet maid"; Milton, Vacation Exercise, 38; Comus, 290; L'Allegro, 29; Spenser, Epithalamion. =Poems=: T. Moore, The Fall of Hebe; J. R. Lowell, Hebe. =In Art=: Ary Scheffer's painting of Hebe; N. Schiavoni's painting.

=Ganymede.= Chaucer, Hous of Fame, 81; Tennyson, in the Palace of Art, "Or else flushed Ganymede, his rosy thigh Half-buried in the Eagle's down," etc.; Shelley in the Prometheus (Jove's order to Ganymede); Milton, Paradise Regained, 2,353; Drayton, Song 4, "The birds of Ganymed." =Poems=: Lord Lytton, Ganymede; Bowring, Goethe's Ganymede; Roden Noël, Ganymede; Edith M. Thomas, Homesickness of Ganymede; S. Margaret Fuller, Ganymede to his Eagle; Drummond on Ganymede's lament, "When eagle's talons bare him through the air." =In Art=: The Rape of Ganymede, marble in the Vatican, probably from the original in bronze by Leochares (text, Fig. 22). Græco-Roman sculpture: Ganymede and the Eagle (National Museum, Naples). Modern sculpture: Thorwaldsen's Ganymede.

(3) =The Graces.= Rogers, Inscription for a Temple; Matthew Arnold, Euphrosyne. These goddesses are continually referred to in poetry. Note the painting by J. B. Regnault (Louvre), also the sculpture by Canova.

(4) =The Muses.= Spenser, The Tears of the Muses; Milton, Il Penseroso; Byron, Childe Harold, 1, 1, 62, 88; Thomson, Castle of Indolence, 2, 2; 2, 8; Akenside, Pleasures of Imagination, 3. 280, 327; Ode on Lyric Poetry; Crabbe, The Village, Bk. 1; Introductions to the Parish Register, Newspaper, Birth of Flattery; M. Arnold, Urania. =Delphi=, =Parnassus=, etc.: Gray, Progress of Poesy, 2, 3. =Vale of= =Tempe=: Keats, On a Grecian Urn; Young, Ocean, an ode. =In Art.= Sculpture: Polyhymnia, ancient marble in Berlin (text, Fig. 23); Clio and Calliope, in the Vatican in Rome; Euterpe, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, and Urania, in the Louvre, Paris; Terpsichore by Thorwaldsen. Painting: Apollo and the Muses, by Raphael Mengs and by Giulio Romano; Terpsichore (picture), by Schützenberger.

(5) =The Hours=, in art: Raphael's Six Hours of the Day and Night.

(6) =The Fates.= Refrain stanzas in Lowell's Villa Franca, "Spin, spin, Clotho, spin! Lachesis, twist! and Atropos, sever!" =In Art=: The Fates, painting attributed to Michelangelo, but now by some to Rosso Fiorentino from Michelangelo's design (text, Fig. 24, Pitti Gallery, Florence); painting by Paul Thumann.

(7) =Nemesis.= For genealogy see Table B, =C. 49=.

(8) =Æsculapius.= Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 5, 36-43; Milton, Paradise Lost, 9, 507.

(9) (10) =The Winds=, =Helios=, =Aurora=, =Hesper=, etc. =Æolus=: Chaucer, Hous of Fame, 480. See =C. 125= and genealogical tables H and I. =Hippotades= is Æolus (son of Hippotes). In Lycidas, 96, Milton calls the king of the winds Hippotades, because, following Homer (Odyssey, 10, 2) and Ovid (Metam. 14, 224), he identifies Æolus II with Æolus III. =Boreas and Orithyia=: Akenside, Pleasures of Imagination, 1, 722.

=In Art.= The fragment, Helios rising from the Sea, by Phidias, south end, east pediment of the Parthenon. Boreas and Zetos, Greek reliefs (text, Figs. 25 and 26); Boreas and Orithyia (text, Fig. 27), on a vase in Munich.

(11) =Hesperus.= Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 605; 9, 49; Comus, 982; Akenside, Ode to Hesper; Campbell, Two Songs to the Evening Star, Tennyson, The Hesperides.

(12) "=Iris= there with humid bow waters the odorous banks," etc., Comus, 992. See also Milton's Paradise Lost, 4, 698; 11, 244. =In Art=: Fig. 28, text; and painting by Guy Head (Gallery, St. Luke's, Rome). She is the swift-footed, wind-footed, fleet, the Iris of the golden wings, etc.

=39. Hyperborean.= Beyond the North. Concerning the Elysian Plain, see =46.= =Illustrative=: Milton, Comus, "Now the gilded car of day," etc.

=40. Ceres. Illustrative.= Pope, Moral Essays, 4, 176, "Another age shall see the golden ear Imbrown the slope... And laughing Ceres reassume the land"; Spring, 66; Summer, 66; Windsor Forest, 39; Gray, Progress of Poesy; Warton, First of April, "Fancy... Sees Ceres grasp her crown of corn, And Plenty load her ample horn"; Spenser, Faerie Queene, 3, 1, 51; Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 268; 9, 395.

=Poems.= Tennyson, Demeter and Persephone; Mrs. H. H. Jackson, Demeter. =Prose=: W. H. Pater, The Myth of Demeter (Fortn. Rev. Vol. 25, 1876); S. Colvin, A Greek Hymn (Cornh. Mag. Vol. 33, 1876); Swinburne, At Eleusis.

The name Ceres is from the stem cer, Sanskrit kri, 'to make.' By metonomy the word comes to signify corn in the Latin. Demeter (#Gê mêtêr#, #da matêr#) means Mother Earth. The goddess is represented in art crowned with a wheat-measure (or modius), and bearing a horn of plenty filled with ears of corn. Demeter (?) appears in the group of deities on the eastern frieze of the Parthenon. Also noteworthy are the Demeter from Knidos (text, Fig. 29, from the marble in the British Museum); two statues of Ceres in the Vatican at Rome, and one in the Glyptothek at Munich; and the Roman wall painting (text, Fig. 30).

=41. Rhea= was worshiped as =Cybele=, the Great Mother, in Phrygia and at Pessinus in Galatia. During the Second Punic War, 203 B.C., her image was brought from the latter place to Rome. In 191 B.C. the Megalesian Games were first celebrated in her honor, occupying six days, from the fourth of April on. Plays were acted during this festival. The Great Mother was also called Cybebe, Berecyntia, and Dindymene.

=The Cybele of Art.= In works of art, Cybele exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes Juno and Ceres. Sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at her side; at other times she rides in a chariot drawn by lions. She wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements. Rhea is mentioned by Homer (Iliad, 15, 187) as the consort of Cronus.

=Illustrative.= Byron's figure likening Venice to Cybele, Childe Harold, 4, 2, "She looks a sea-Cybele, fresh from ocean," etc. Also Milton's Arcades, 21.

= It is interesting to note that Homer (Iliad and Odyssey) recognizes Dionysus neither as inventor, nor as exclusive god of wine. In Iliad, 6, 130 he refers, however, to the Dionysus cult in Thrace. =Dionysus= means the Zeus or god of Nysa, an imaginary vale of Thrace, B[oe]otia, or elsewhere, in which the deity spent his youth. The name =Bacchus= owes its origin to the enthusiasm with which the followers of the god lifted up their voices in his praise. Similar names are Iacchus, Bromius, Evius (from the cry evoe). The god was also called Lyæus, the loosener of care, Liber, the liberator. His followers are also known as Edonides (from Mount Edon, in Thrace, where he was worshiped), Thyiades, the sacrificers_, Lenæa and Bassarides. His festivals were the Lesser and Greater Dionysia (at Athens), the Lenæa, and the Anthesteria, in December, March, January, and February, respectively.

At the first, three dramatic performances were presented.

=Illustrative.= A few references and allusions worth consulting: Spenser, Epithalamion; Fletcher, Valentinian, "God Lyæus, ever young"; Randolph, To Master Anthony Stafford (1632); Milton, L'Allegro, 16; Paradise Lost, 4, 279; 7, 33; Comus, 46, 522; Shakespeare, Midsummer Night's Dream, V, i; Love's Labour's Lost, IV, iii; Antony and Cleopatra, II, vii, song; Shelley, Ode to Liberty, 7, Rome--"like a Cadmæan Mænad"; Keats, To a Nightingale, "Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards." On =Semele=, Milton, Paradise Regained, 2, 187; Spenser, Faerie Queene, 3, 11, 33.

=Poems.= Ben Jonson, Dedication of the King's New Cellar; Thomas Parnell, Bacchus, or the Drunken Metamorphosis; Landor, Sophron's Hymn to Bacchus; Swinburne, Prelude to Songs before Sunrise; Roden Noël, The Triumph of Bacchus; Robert Bridges, The Feast of Bacchus; others given in text. See Index.

=In Art.= Of ancient representations of the Bacchus, the best examples are the marble in the British Museum (text, Fig. 31); the Silenus holding the child Bacchus (in the Louvre); the head of Dionysus found in Smyrna (now in Leyden--see text, Fig. 143), from an original of the school of Scopas; the head (now in London) from the Baths of Caracalla, of the later Attic school; the Faun and Bacchus (Museum, Naples); a standing bronze figure in Vienna, and the statue of the Villa Tiburtina (Rome). The bearded or Indian Bacchus is represented as advanced in years, grave, dignified, crowned with a diadem and robed to the feet. See also Figs. 82-87, in text.

In modern sculpture note especially the Drunken Bacchus of Michelangelo. Among modern paintings worthy of notice are Bouguereau's Youth of Bacchus, and C. Gleyre's Dance of the Bacchantes. See also under Ariadne.

=43.= The invention of the syrinx is attributed also to Mercury. For poetical illustrations of Pan see =C. 129-138=. So also for Nymphs and Satyrs.

=In Art.= Pan the Hunter (text, Fig. 32); the antique, Pan and Daphnis (with the syrinx) in the Museum at Naples. See references above.

=44-46.= It was only in rare instances that mortals returned from Hades. See the stories of Hercules, Orpheus, Ulysses, Æneas. On the tortures of the condemned and the happiness of the blessed, see =254-257= in The Adventures of Æneas.

=Illustrative.= Lowell, addressing the Past, says:

Whatever of true life there was in thee Leaps in our age's veins;... Here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care Float the green Fortunate Isles Where all thy hero-spirits dwell, and share Our martyrdom and toils; The present moves attended With all of brave and excellent and fair That made the old time splendid.

Milton, Paradise Lost, 3, 568, "Like those Hesperian gardens," etc. See also the same, 2, 577 ff.,--"Abhorrèd =Styx=, the flood of deadly hate,"--where the rivers of Erebus are characterized according to the meaning of their Greek names; and L'Allegro, 3. =Charon=: Pope, Dunciad, 3, 19; R. C. Rogers, Charon. =Elysium=: Cowper, Progress of Error, Night, "The balm of care, Elysium of the mind"; Milton, Paradise Lost, 3, 472; Comus, 257; L'Allegro; Shakespeare, 3 Henry VI, I, ii; Cymbeline, V, iv; Twelfth Night, I, ii; Two Gentlemen of Verona, II, vii; Shelley, To Naples. =Lethe=: Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, IV, i; Julius Cæsar, III, i; Hamlet, I, v; 2 Henry IV, V, ii; Milton, Paradise Lost, 2, 583. =Tartarus=: Milton, Paradise Lost, 2, 858; 6, 54.

=47. Interpretative.= The name =Hades= means "the invisible," or "he who makes invisible." The meaning of Pluto (Plouton), according to Plato (Cratylus), is wealth,--the giver of treasure which lies underground. Pluto carries the cornucopia, symbol of inexhaustible riches; but careful discrimination must be observed between him and Plutus (Ploutos), who is merely an allegorical figure,--a personification of wealth and nothing more. =Hades= is called also the Illustrious, the Many-named, the Benignant, Polydectes or the Hospitable.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

=Illustrative.= Milton, L'Allegro, and Il Penseroso; Paradise Lost, 4, 270; Thomas Kyd, Spanish Tragedy (Andrea's descent to Hades;--this poem deals extensively with the Infernal Regions); Shakespeare, 2 Henry IV, II, iv; Troilus and Cressida, IV, iv; V, ii; Coriolanus, I, iv; Titus Andronicus, IV, iii.

=Poems.= Buchanan, Ades, King of Hell; Lewis Morris, Epic of Hades.

=48. Proserpina.= Not from the Latin pro-serpo, 'to creep forth' (used of herbs in spring), but from the Greek form Persephone, bringer of death. The later name =Pherephatta= refers to the doves (phatta), which were sacred to her as well as to Aphrodite. She carries ears of corn as symbol of vegetation, poppies as symbol of the sleep of death, the pomegranate as the fruit of the underworld of which none might partake and return to the light of heaven. Among the Romans her worship was overshadowed by that of =Libitina=, a native deity of the underworld.

=Illustrative.= Keats, Melancholy, 1; Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 2, 2; Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 269; 9, 396.

=Poems.= Aubrey De Vere, The Search after Proserpine; Jean Ingelow, Persephone; Swinburne, Hymns to Proserpine; L. Morris, Persephone (Epic of Hades); D. G. Rossetti, Proserpina. (Also in crayons, in water colors, and in oil.)

=In Art.= Sculpture: Eastern pediment of Parthenon frieze. Painting: Lorenzo Bernini's Pluto and Proserpine; P. Schobelt's Abduction of Proserpine.

=49. Textual.= (1) For Æacus, son of Ægina, see =61= and =C. 190=, Table O; for Minos and Rhadamanthus, see =59. Eumenides=: euphemistic term, meaning the well-intentioned. =Hecate= was descended through her father Perses from the Titans, Creüs and Eurybië; through her mother Asteria from the Titans, C[oe]us and Ph[oe]be. She was therefore, on both sides, the granddaughter of Uranus and Gæa.

The following table is based on Hesiod's account of =The Family of Night=. (Theogony.)

According to other theogonies, the Fates were daughters of Jove and Themis, and the Hesperides daughters of Atlas. The story of the true and false =Dreams= and the horn and ivory gates (Odyssey, 19, 560) rests on a double play on words: (1) #elephas# (elephas), 'ivory,' and #elephairomai# (elephairomai), 'to cheat with false hope'; (2) #keras# (keras), horn, and #krainein# (krainein), 'to fulfill.' See Mortimer Collins, The Ivory Gate, a poem.

=Illustrative. Hades=: Milton, Paradise Lost, 2, 964; L. Morris, Epic of Hades. =Styx=: Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, V, iv; Titus Andronicus, I, ii; Milton, Paradise Lost, 2, 577; Pope, Dunciad, 2, 338. =Erebus=: Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, V, i; 2 Henry IV, II, iv; Julius Cæsar, II, i. =Cerberus=: Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 11, 41; Shakespeare, Love's Labour's Lost, V, ii; 2 Henry IV, II, iv; Troilus and Cressida, II, i; Titus Andronicus, II, v; Maxwell, Tom May's Death; Milton, L'Allegro, 2. =Furies=: Milton, Lycidas; Paradise Lost, 2, 597, 671; 6, 859; 10, 620; Paradise Regained, 9, 422; Comus, 641; Dryden, Alexander's Feast, 6; Shakespeare, Midsummer Night's Dream, V, i; Richard III, I, iv; 2 Henry IV, V, iii. =Hecate=: Shakespeare, Macbeth, IV, i. =Sleep and Death=: Shelley, To Night; H. K. White, Thanatos.

=In Art.= Vase-painting of Canusium of the Underworld (text, Fig. 34); painting of a =Fury= by Michelangelo (Uffizi, Florence); also Figs. 35-39 in text.

=50-52.= See next page for Genealogical Table, Divinities of the Sea.

For stories of the Grææ, Gorgons, Scylla, Sirens, Pleiades, etc., consult Index.

=Illustrative. Oceanus=: Milton, Comus, 868. =Neptune=: Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 11, 54; Shakespeare, Tempest, I, ii; Midsummer Night's Dream, II, ii; Macbeth, II, ii; Cymbeline, III, i; Hamlet, I, i; Milton, Lycidas; Paradise Regained, 1, 190; Paradise Lost, 9, 18; Comus, 869; Prior, Ode on Taking of Namur; Waller's Panegyric to the Lord Protector. =Panope=: Milton, Lycidas, 99.

=Harpies.= Milton, Paradise Lost, 3, 403. =Sirens=: Wm. Morris, Life and Death of Jason--Song of the Sirens. =Scylla= and Charybdis (see Index): Milton, Paradise Lost, 2, 660; Arcades, 63; Comus, 257; Pope, Rape of the Lock, 3, 122. =Sirens=: Rossetti, A Sea-Spell; A. Lang, "They hear the Sirens for the second time."

TABLE B. THE FAMILY OF NIGHT

=Night= +-- Goddesses of Destiny and Fate (Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos) +-- Death (Thanatos) +-- Sleep | +-- Morpheus | +-- Icelus | +-- Phantasus +-- Dreams +-- Momus (god of ridicule--adverse criticism) +-- Care +-- Hesperides +-- Nemesis

=Naiads.= Landor, To Joseph Ablett; Shelley, To Liberty, 8; Spenser, Prothalamion, 19; Milton, Lycidas; Paradise Regained, 2, 355; Comus, 254; Buchanan, Naiad (see =134=); Drummond of Hawthornden, "Nymphs, sister nymphs, which haunt this crystal brook, And happy in these floating bowers abide," etc.; Pope, Summer, 7; Armstrong, Art of Preserving Health, "Come, ye Naiads! to the fountains lead."

TABLE C. DIVINITIES OF THE SEA

Gæa =Uranus +-- =Oceanus= | ==Tethys= | +-- Inachus and other river-gods | +-- Oceanids | +-- Doris (the Oceanid) | =Nereus | +-- =Amphitrite= | | ==Neptune= | | +-- Proteus (acc. to Apollodorus) | | +-- Triton | +-- =Galatea= | +-- Thetis | =Peleus | +-- Achilles +-- Cronus | =Rhea | +-- =Neptune= | ==Amphitrite= | +-- Proteus (acc. to Apollodorus) (see above) | +-- Triton (see above) +-- Rhea =Cronus +-- =Neptune= (see above)

Gæa =Pontus +-- Nereus | =Doris (the Oceanid) | +-- Amphitrite (see above) | +-- Galatea (see above) | +-- Thetis (see above) +-- Thaumas | +-- Iris | +-- Harpies +-- Phorcys | =Ceto | +-- Grææ | +-- Gorgons | +-- Sirens | +-- Scylla +-- Ceto =Phorcys +-- Grææ (see above) +-- Gorgons (see above) +-- Sirens (see above) +-- Scylla (see above)

=Proteus.= Shakespeare, Two Gentlemen of Verona, I, i; II, ii; III, ii; IV, iv; Pope, Dunciad, 1, 37; 2, 109. The Water Deities are presented in a masque contained in Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid's Tragedy.

=In Art.= Poseidon: see text, Figs. 40 and 41 (originals in the British Museum and the Glyptothek, Munich); also the Isthmian Poseidon, Fig. 95. The Atlas (Græco-Roman sculpture) in National Museum, Naples; the Triton in Vatican (text, Fig. 42). Modern painting: J. Van Beers, The Siren; D. G. Rossetti, The Siren.

=Textual. Consus=, from condere, 'to stow away.' The sisters of =Carmenta=, the forward-looking Antevorta and the backward-looking Postvorta, were originally but different aspects of the function of the Muse.

=54. Illustrative. Saturn=: Milton, Il Penseroso; Keats, Hyperion; Peele, Arraignment of Paris. =Janus=, as god of civilization: Dryden, Epistle to Congreve, 7. =Fauns=: Milton, Lycidas; R. C. Rogers, The Dancing Faun. See Hawthorne's Marble Faun. =Bellona=: Shakespeare, Macbeth, "Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof"; Milton, Paradise Lost, 2, 922. =Pomona=: Randolph, To Master Anthony Stafford; Milton, Paradise Lost, 9, 393; 5, 378; Thomson, Seasons, Summer, 663. =Flora=: Milton, Paradise Lost, 5, 16; Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 4, 17; R. H. Stoddard, Arcadian Hymn to Flora; Pope, Windsor Forest, 38. =Janus=: Jonathan Swift, To Janus, on New Year's Day, 1726; =Egeria=, one of the Camenæ; Childe Harold, 4, 115-120; Tennyson, Palace of Art, "Holding one hand against his ear," etc. =Pan=, etc.: Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 707; 4, 329.

=In Sculpture.= The Satyr, or so-called Faun, of Praxiteles in the Vatican (text, Fig. 106); Dancing Faun (Lateran, Rome); Dancing Faun, Drunken Faun, Sleeping Faun, and Faun and Bacchus (National Museum, Naples); The Barberini Faun, or Sleeping Satyr (Glyptothek, Munich).

=Flora.= Painting by Titian (Uffizi, Florence).

=55.= The first love of Zeus was =Metis=, daughter of Oceanus and Tethys. She is Prudence or Foreknowledge. She warned Zeus that if she bore him a child, it would be greater than he. Whereupon Zeus swallowed her; and, in time, from his head sprang Athene, "the virgin of the azure eyes, Equal in strength, and as her father wise" (Hesiod, Theog.). On =Latona=, see =32=, =73=, and Commentary.

=56.= For Danaë see =151=; for Alemene, =156=; for Leda, =194=.

= In the following general table of the =Race of Inachus= (see p. 488), marriages are indicated in the usual manner (by the sign =, or by parentheses); the more important characters mentioned in this work are printed in heavy-faced type. While numerous less important branches, families, and mythical individuals have been intentionally omitted, it is hoped that this reduction of various relationships, elsewhere explained or tabulated, to a general scheme, may furnish the reader with a clearer conception of the family ties that motivate many of the incidents of mythical adventure, and that must have been commonplaces of information to those who invented and perpetuated these stories. It should be borne in mind that the traditions concerning relationships are by no means consistent, and that consequently the collation of mythical genealogies demands the continual exercise of discretion, and a balancing of probabilities.

Notice that from the union of Jupiter and Io (Table D), Hercules is descended in the thirteenth generation.

=Inachus= is the principal river of Argolis in the Peloponnesus.

=Interpretative.= =Io= is explained as the horned moon, in its various changes and wanderings. =Argus= is the heaven with its myriad stars, some of them shut, some blinking, some always agleam. The wand of Hermes and his music may be the morning breeze, at the coming of which the eyes of heaven close (Cox, 2, 138; Preller 2, 40). The explanation would, however, be just as probable if Mercury (Hermes) were a cloud-driving wind. =Pan and the Syrinx=: naturally the wind playing through the reeds, if (with Müller and Cox) we take Pan to be the all-purifying, but yet gentle, wind. But see p. 181.

=Illustrative.= Shelley, To the Moon, "Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth?" Milton's "To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray, Through the heaven's wide pathless way" (Il Penseroso). See also for Io, Shelley's Prometheus Bound. =Argus=: Milton, Paradise Lost, 11, 131; Pope, Dunciad, 2, 374; 4, 637.

=In Art.= Fig. 47 in the text, from a wall-painting of Herculaneum (Museum, Naples). Correggio's painting, Jupiter and Io; not a pleasant conception.

= The myth of =Callisto= and =Arcas= is of Arcadian origin. If the Arcadians, in very remote times, traced their descent from a she-bear, and if they also, like other races, recognized a bear in a certain constellation, they might naturally mix the fables and combine them later with the legend of the all-powerful Zeus (Lang, 2, 181). According to another account, Callisto was punished for her love of Jupiter by Diana (Artemis). Her name has been identified with the adjective Calliste, 'most fair,' which was certainly applied to Artemis herself. That Artemis was protectress of she-bears is known; also that, in Attica, she was served by girls who imitated, while dancing, the gait of bears. It is quite possible, therefore, that Artemis inherited a more ancient worship of the bear that may have been the totem_, or sacred animal, from which the Arcadians traced a mythological descent.

Others hold that the word arksha, 'a star,' became confused with the Greek arktos, 'a bear.' So the myth of the son Arcas (the star and the bear) may have arisen (Max Müller). The last star in the tail of the Little Bear is the Polestar, or =Cynosure= (dog's tail).

TABLE D. THE RACE OF INACHUS AND ITS BRANCHES

=Oceanus= +-- =Inachus= +-- Phoroneus | +-- Apis | +-- Niobe | ==Jupiter= | +-- Argus | | +-- (Tiryns, Epidaurus, and other founders of | | Peloponnesian cities) | +-- Pelasgus | +-- Lycaon | +-- Sons destroyed for impiety | +-- =Callisto= | ==Jupiter= | +-- =Arcas= (ancestor of The Arcadians) | +-- Elatus | +-- Pereus | +-- Neæra | +-- Lycurgus | +-- =Ancæus= (Calyd. Hunt) | +-- Amphidamas | | | (an Argonaut) | | +-- Antimache | | ==Eurystheus= | +-- Jasus | +-- =Atalanta= of | Arcadia (Calyd. Hunt) +-- =Argus= Panoptes (slain by Mercury) +-- Phegeus | +-- Arsinoë | =Alcmæon +-- =Io= ==Jupiter= +-- Epaphus +-- Libya =Neptune +-- Agenor | +-- =Cadmus= | | =Harmonia | | +-- =Semele= | | | ==Jupiter= | | | +-- =Bacchus= | | +-- =Ino= | | | =Athamas | | | +-- =Melicertes= | | +-- =Autonoë= | | | =Aristæus | | | +-- =Actæon= | | +-- =Agave= | | | =Echion | | | +-- =Pentheus= | | | +-- Men[oe]ceus | | | +-- =Creon= | | | | +-- Men[oe]ceus II | | | | +-- Hæmon | | | +-- =Jocasta= | | | ==Laïus= | | | +-- =[OE]dipus= | | | +-- =Eteocles= | | | +-- =Polynices= | | | | +-- Thersander | | | +-- =Antigone= | | | +-- =Ismene= | | +-- Polydorus | | +-- Labdacus | | +-- =Laïus= | | ==Jocasta= | | +-- =[OE]dipus= (see above) | +-- Ph[oe]nix | +-- Cilix | +-- Phineus (the Soothsayer) | +-- =Europa= | ==Jupiter= | +-- =Minos I= | | +-- Lycastus | | +-- =Minos II= | | =Pasiphaë | | +-- Crateus | | | +-- Aërope | | | =Atreus | | | +-- =Agamemnon= | | | | =Clytemnestra | | | +-- =Menelaüs= | | | =Helen | | +-- =Phædra= | | | =Theseus | | +-- =Ariadne= | | =Theseus | +-- =Rhadamanthus= | +-- =Sarpedon= +-- Belus +-- Ægyptus | +-- 49 sons | +-- =Lynceus= | ==Hypermnestra= | +-- Abas | +-- Acrisius | | +-- =Danaë= | | ==Jupiter= | | +-- =Perseus= | | ==Andromeda= | | +-- Perses | | +-- Electryon | | | +-- Alcmene | | | ==Jupiter= | | | +-- =Hercules= | | | =Amphitryon | | | +-- =Iphicles= | | +-- Alcæus | | | +-- Amphitryon | | | =Alcmene | | | +-- =Iphicles= | | | (see above) | | +-- Sthenelus | +-- Pr[oe]tus | +-- Megapenthes +-- Danaüs | +-- =Hypermnestra= | ==Lynceus= | +-- Abas (see above) +-- Cepheus =Cassiopea +-- =Andromeda= ==Perseus= +-- Perses (see above) +-- Electryon (see

above) +-- Alcæus (see above) +-- Sthenelus (see above)

=Illustrative.= Milton's "Let my lamp, at midnight hour, Be seen in some high lonely tower, Where I may oft outwatch the Bear" (Il Penseroso); and his "Where perhaps some beauty lies The cynosure of neighbouring eyes" (L'Allegro); also his "And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, Or Tyrian Cynosure" (Comus). Note Lowell's "The Bear, that prowled all night about the fold Of the North-star, hath shrunk into his den" (Prometheus). See also the song beginning, "Hear ye, ladies, that despise What the mighty Love had done," in Beaumont and Fletcher's drama, Valentinian,--for Callisto, Leda, and Danaë.

=59. The Descendants of Agenor.= For further details, see Table D.

TABLE E

Mars =Venus +-- Harmonia ==Cadmus= +-- =Semele= | =Jupiter | +-- Bacchus +-- Ino | =Athamas | +-- Melicertes +-- Autonoë | =Aristæus | +-- Actæon +-- Agave | +-- Pentheus +-- Polydorus +-- Labdacus +-- Laïus +-- [OE]dipus (royal family of Thebes)

=Agenor= +-- =Cadmus= | =Harmonia | +-- =Semele= (see above) | +-- Ino (see above) | +-- Autonoë (see above) | +-- Agave (see above) | +-- Polydorus (see above) +-- =Europa= | =Jupiter | +-- Minos | +-- Rhadamanthus | +-- Sarpedon +-- Ph[oe]nix +-- Cilix

=Textual. Moschus= lived about the close of the third century B.C. in Syracuse. He was a grammarian and an idyllic poet. He calls himself a pupil of Bion,--whose Lament for Adonis is given in =100=. Both Bion and Moschus belong to the School of Theocritus--the Idyllic or Pastoral School of Poetry. =Cypris=: Venus, by whom the island of Cyprus was beloved. =Mygdonian flutes=: the ancients had three species or modes of music, depending, respectively, on the succession of musical intervals which was adopted as the basis of the system. The Lydian measures were shrill and lively; the Dorian deep in tone, grave, and solemn; the Mygdonian, or Phrygian, were supposed by some to have been the same as the Lydian, but more probably they were a combination of Lydian and Dorian. =Shaker of the World=: Neptune. =Crete=: where Jupiter had been concealed from his father Cronus, and nourished by the goat Amalthea.

=Taurus= (the bull) was euhemeristically conceived to be a king of Crete who carried off the Tyrian princess as prize of war. Others said that probably the figurehead of the ship in which Europa was conveyed to Crete was a bull. It is not improbable that the story indicates a settlement of Ph[oe]nicians in Crete and the introduction by them of cattle. Modern critics, such as Preller and Welcker, make Europa a goddess of the moon = Diana or Astarte, and translate her name "the dark, or obscured one." But she has undoubtedly a connection with the earth, perhaps as wife of Jupiter (the Heaven). H. D. Müller connects both Io and Europa with the wandering Demeter (or Ceres), and considers Demeter to be a goddess both of the moon and of the earth (Helbig, in Roscher). Cox, after his usual method, finds here the Dawn borne across the heaven by the lord of the pure ether.

Europa would then be the broad-spreading flush of dawn, seen first in the purple region of morning (Ph[oe]nicia). Her brother Cadmus, who pursues her, would be the sun searching for his lost sister or bride. =The bull= occurs not infrequently in myth as an incarnation of deity.

=Illustrative.= W. S. Landor, Europa and her Mother; Aubrey De Vere, The Rape of Europa; E. Dowden, Europa; W. W. Story, Europa (a sonnet). See also a graceful picture in Tennyson's Palace of Art.

=In Art.= Fig. 48, in text, from vase found at Cumæ; the marble group in the Vatican, Europa riding the Bull; painting by Paolo Veronese, The Rape of Europa; Europa, by Claude Lorrain.

=60.= See Tables D and E.

=Interpretative.= According to Preller, =Semele= is a personification of the fertile soil in spring, which brings forth the productive vine. In the irrational part of the myth, Jove takes the child Dionysus (Bacchus), after Semele's death, and sews him up in his thigh for safe-keeping. Preller finds here "the wedlock of heaven and earth, the first day that it thunders in March." Exactly why, might be easy to guess, but hard to demonstrate. The thigh of Jupiter would have to be the cool moist clouds brooding over the youthful vine. The whole explanation is altogether too conjectural. See A. Lang's Myth, Ritual, etc., 2, 221-225, for a more plausible but less poetic theory.

=Illustrative.= Milton, Paradise Regained, 2, 187; Bowring's translation of Schiller's Semele; E. R. Sill, Semele, of which a part is given in the text.

=In Art.= Fig. 50, in text.

=61. Textual.= The son of Ægina and Jove was Æacus (for genealogy, see Table O (1)). =Ægina=: an island in the Saronic Gulf, between Attica and Argolis. =Asopus=: the name of two rivers, one in Achaia, one in B[oe]otia, of which the latter is the more important. The Greek traveler, Pausanias, tells us that Asopus was the discoverer of the river which bears his name. =Sisyphus=, see =255=. This description of the plague is copied by Ovid from the account which Thucydides gives of the plague of Athens. That account, much fuller than is here given, was drawn from life and has been the source from which many subsequent poets and novelists have drawn details of similar scenes. The =Myrmidons= were, during the Trojan War, the soldiers of Achilles, grandson of this king Æacus.

=Interpretative.= The name =Ægina= may imply either the shore on which the waves break (Preller), or the sacred goat (Ægeus) which was the totem of the Ægeus family of Attica. The worship of Athene was introduced into Athens by this family. In sacrifices the goddess was clad in the skin of the sacred goat, but no goat might be sacrificed to her. Probably another example of the survival of a savage ritual (Lang, Myth, Ritual, etc., 1, 280).

=Illustrative. Myrmidons=:

No, no, said Rhadamant, it were not well, With loving souls to place a martialist; He died in war, and must to martial fields, Where wounded Hector lives in lasting pain, And Achilles' Myrmidons do scour the plain.

Kyd, Spanish Tragedy

On =Sisyphus=, read Lewis Morris' poem in The Epic of Hades.

=62. Textual. Mænad=: the Mænades, from #mainomai# (mainomai), 'to rage,' were women who danced themselves into a frenzy in the orgies or festivals of Bacchus. =Cithæron=: a mountain range south of Thebes and between B[oe]otia and Attica.

=Interpretative. Antiope=, philologically interpreted, may indicate the moon with face turned full on us. That Antiope is a personification of some such natural phenomena would also appear from the significance of the names associated with hers in the myth: =Nycteus=, the night-man; =Lycus=, the man of light. Amphion and Zethus are thought, in like fashion, to represent manifestations of light; see also Castor and Pollux. Perhaps the method employed by Zethus and Amphion in building Thebes may merely symbolize the advantage of combining mechanical force with well-ordered or harmonious thought.

=In Art=: The Farnese Bull group (text, opp. p. 74): marble, maybe by Tauriscus and Tralles, in Naples Museum. Fig. 51: a relief in the Palazzo Spada, Rome. Modern painting: Correggio's Antiope.

=63. Textual. Phrygia=: a province in Asia Minor. For =Minerva's= protection of the olive, see =65=. =Tyana= is a town in Cappadocia, Asia Minor.

=64. Textual. Argos=: the capital of Argolis in the Peloponnesus. Of =Cydippe=, it is told, in Ovid's Heroides and elsewhere, that, when a girl sacrificing in the temple of Diana in Delos, she was seen and loved by a youth, Acontius. He threw before her an apple, on which these words were inscribed, "I swear by the sanctuary of Diana to marry Acontius." The maiden read aloud the words and threw the apple away. But the vow was registered by Diana, who, in spite of many delays, brought about the marriage of Cydippe and her unknown lover. =Polyclitus= =the Elder=, of Argos, lived about 431 B.C., and was a contemporary of two other great sculptors, Phidias and Myron. His greatest work was the chryselephantine statue of Hera for her temple between Argos and Mycenæ.

=Illustrative.= Beside Gosse's Sons of Cydippe, see verses by L. J. Richardson, in The Inlander, Ann Arbor, Vol. 2, p. 2. For the story of Acontius and Cydippe, see William Morris' Earthly Paradise; and Lytton's Cydippe, or The Apples, in The Lost Tales of Miletus.

=In Art.= The severe design in clay by Teignmouth, of which prints may be obtained, was made to illustrate Gosse's poem.

=65-66. Textual.= For =Cecrops=, see =174=. He named the city that he founded Cecropia,--a name which afterwards clung to Athens. For an excellent description of ancient weaving, see Catullus, LXIV, 304-323 (The Peleus and Thetis). For translation, see =191. Leda=, mother of Castor, Pollux, Helen, and Clytemnestra (see =194= and Commentary). =Danaë=, mother of Perseus (see =151=).

=Interpretative.= The waves were the coursers of Neptune,--the horses with which he scours the strand. =Arachne=: a princess of Lydia. It is probable that the myth symbolizes the competition in products of the loom between Attica and Asia Minor and the superior handicraft of the Athenian weavers.

=Illustrative. Arachne=: Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, V, ii; Pope, Dunciad, 4, 590. =Poem=: Garrick, On a Lady's Embroidery.

=In Art.= Fig. 52, in text: from a vase in St. Petersburg.

=68. Textual. Diomede=: for his genealogy, see Table K. =Taslets=: armor worn about the thighs. =Cyprian=: Venus. =Pæan= (Pæon, or Paiëon), classed by Homer among the Olympian gods, of whom he is, as his name implies, the "healer." Later, the name was applied to Æsculapius, then to any god who might repair or avert evil of any kind, as, for instance, to Apollo and to Thanatos (Death). See Armstrong's Art of Health, "So Pæan, so the powers of Health command," etc., and "the wise of ancient days Adored one power of physic, melody, and song." =Pæans= were chants in honor of Apollo, sung to deprecate misfortune in battle or to avert disease. =Lower than the sons of Heaven=: lower than the Titans, sons of Uranus (Heaven), who were plunged into Tartarus.

=69. Textual.= Lessing points out in his Laocoön the skill with which Homer, stating the size of the stone hurled by Minerva and the measure of the space covered by Mars, suggests the gigantic proportions of the warring divinities.

=Tyrians=: Cadmus and his followers came from Tyre in Ph[oe]nicia. The =Necklace of Harmonia= was a fateful gift. It brought evil to whomsoever it belonged: to all the descendants of Cadmus; to Eriphyle, wife of Amphiaraüs of Argos, to whom Polynices gave it; and to the sons of Eriphyle. It was finally dedicated to Apollo in Delphi. Harmonia's robe possessed the same fatality, =187, 189. Enchelians=: a people of Illyria. =Eight years=: the usual period of penance. Apollo, after slaying the Python, had to clear himself of defilement by a period of purification.

), and industrial arts to the older races of Greece. Semitic Melkarth, and Kedem, the East_. But Preller holds that two mythical personages, a Greek Cadmus and a Ph[oe]nician Cadmus, have been confounded; that the Theban Cadmus is merely the representative of the oldest Theban state; that the selection of the spot on which a heifer had lain down was a frequent practice among settlers, superstitious about the site of their new town; that the dragon typifies the cruel and forbidding nature of the uncultivated surroundings; and that the story of the dragon's teeth was manufactured to flatter the warlike spirit of the Thebans, the teeth themselves being spear points.

=Harmonia=, daughter of the patron deities of Thebes, is the symbol of the peace and domesticity that attend the final establishment of order in the State.

According to the Sun-and-Cloud theory of Cox, Cadmus, the Sun, pursues his sister, Europa, the broad-flushing light of Dawn, who has been carried off on a spotless cloud (the Bull). The Sun, of course, must journey farther west than Crete. The heifer that he is to follow is, therefore, still another cloud (like the cattle of the Sun,--clouds). The dragon of Mars is still a third cloud; and this the Sun dissipates. A storm follows, after which new conflicts arise between the clouds that have sprung up from the moistened earth (the harvest of armed men!). This kind of explanation, indiscriminately indulged, delights the fancy of the inventor and titillates the risibles of the reader.

=Illustrative.= Milton, Paradise Lost, 9, 506. The serpent that tempted Eve compared with the serpents Cadmus and "Hermione." See Byron, Don Juan, 3, 86, "You have the letters Cadmus gave--Think you he meant them for a slave?"

=In Art.= Fig. 54, in text: from a vase in the Naples Museum. Fig. 55 is of a vase-painting from Eretria.

=71. Textual. Eurynome= is represented by some as one of the Titans, the wife of Ophion. Ophion and Eurynome, according to one legend, ruled over heaven before the age of Saturn (Cronus). So Milton, Paradise Lost, 10, 580, "And fabled how the Serpent, whom they called Ophion, with Eurynome (the wide-Encroaching Eve perhaps), had first the rule Of high Olympus, thence by Saturn driven." According to Vulcan's statement (Iliad, 18), Eurynome was daughter of Oceanus and Tethys. She was mother, by Jupiter, of the Graces. =Thetis=: see =50=. =Xanthus=: the principal river of Lycia in Asia Minor.

=72-73. Interpretative. Latona= (=Leto=): according to Homer, one of the deities of Olympus; a daughter of the Titans C[oe]us and Ph[oe]be, whose names indicate phenomena of radiant light. She belonged, perhaps, to an ancient theogony of Asia Minor. At any rate she held at one time the rank of lawful wife to Zeus. Preller and, after him, Cox take Leto as the dusk or darkness. Cox traces the word to the root of Lethe (the forgetful), but Preller is doubtful. Possibly Leto and Leda, the mother of the bright Castor and Pollux, have something in common. The wanderings of Latona may be the weary journey of the night over the mountain tops, both before and after the Sun (Apollo) is born in Delos (the land of Dawn).

=Illustrative.= Milton, Arcades, 20, and Sonnet XII, "On the detraction which followed on my writing certain treatises."

=74. Textual. Hyperboreans=: those who dwell in the land beyond the North. Pæan, see =C. 68=. =Tityus=: an earthborn giant; condemned to the underworld, he lay stretched over nine acres while two vultures devoured his liver.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

_ Python=: in many savage myths, a serpent, a frog, or a lizard that drinks up all the waters, and is destroyed by some national hero or god. As Mr. Lang says: "Whether the slaying of the Python was or was not originally an allegory of the defeat of winter by sunlight, it certainly, at a very early period, became mixed up with ancient legal ideas and local traditions. , 2, 196). Compare the feats of Hercules, Jason, Bellerophon, Perseus, St. George and the Dragon, Sigurd, and Jack the Giant Killer. Commentators take Python to be the rigor of winter, or the darkness of night, or a "black storm-cloud which shuts up the waters" (Cox). It is not impossible that the Python was the sacred snake of an older animal worship superseded by that of Apollo. (See also =C. 38=.)

=75. Textual.= The Tyrian hue is purple, made from the juice of the murex, or purple shellfish. On the leaves of the hyacinth were inscribed characters like Ai, Ai, the Greek exclamation of woe. It is evidently not our modern hyacinth that is here described, but perhaps some species of iris, or of larkspur, or pansy. The meaning of the name is also uncertain, but the best authorities favor youthful. A festival called the =Hyacinthia= was celebrated, in commemoration of the myth, over a large part of the Peloponnesus. It lasted three days, probably in the first half of July. It consisted of chants of lamentation and fasting during the first and last days; during the second day, of processions, a horse race, joyous choral songs, dances, feasting, and sacrifice.

=Interpretative.= Most scholars consider Hyacinthus to be the personification of the blooming vegetation of spring, which withers under the heats of summer. The Hyacinthian festival seems to have celebrated--like the Linus festival and the Eleusinian--the transitory nature of life and the hope of immortality.

=Illustrative.= Keats, Endymion, "Pitying the sad death Of Hyacinthus, when the cool breath Of Zephyr slew him" (see context); Milton, Lycidas, "Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe"; On the Death of a Fair Infant, 4.

=In Art.= Fig. 58, in text, is of a marble group in the Hope Collection.

" =Turn off to the= =left=: indicating the course of the sun, west by south. =Boötes=: the constellation called the Wagoner. =Parnassus=: in Phocis; one peak was sacred to Apollo, the other to the Muses. =Mount Ossa=: associated with =Mount Pelion= in the story of the giants, who piled one on top of the other in their attempt to scale Olympus. =Libyan= desert: in Africa. =Ca ster=: a river of Ionia, noted for its so-called "tuneful" swans. =Naiads=, see =52= (6).

=Interpretative.= Apollo assumed many of the attributes of Helios, the older divinity of the sun, who is ordinarily reputed to be the father of Phaëthon (ordinarily anglicized Phaëton). The name Phaëthon, like the name Ph[oe]bus, means the radiant one. The sun is called both Helios Phaëthon and Helios Ph[oe]bus in Homer. It was an easy feat of the imagination to make Phaëthon the incautious son of Helios, or Apollo, and to suppose that extreme drought is caused by his careless driving of his father's chariot. The drought is succeeded by a thunderstorm; and the lightning puts an end to Phaëthon. The rain that succeeds the lightning is, according to Cox, the tears of the Heliades. It is hardly wise to press the analogy so far, unless one is prepared to explain the amber in the same way.

=Illustrative.= Milman in his Samor alludes to the story. See also Chaucer, Hous of Fame, 435; Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 4, 9; Shakespeare, Richard II, III, iii; Two Gentlemen of Verona, III, i; 3 Henry VI, I, iv; II, vi; Romeo and Juliet, III, ii. =Poems=: Prior, Female Phaëton; J. G. Saxe, Phaëton; and G. Meredith, Phaëton. For description of the palace and chariot of the Sun, see Landor, Gebir, Bk. I.

=In Art=: Fig. 59, in text: a relief on a Roman sarcophagus in the Louvre.

=77. Textual.= For the siege of Troy, see Chap. XXII. =Atrides= (=Atreides=): the son of Atreus, Agamemnon. The ending -ides means son of, and is used in patronymics; for instance, Pelides (Peleides), Achilles; Tydides, Diomede, son of Tydeus. The ending -is, in patronymics, means daughter of; as Tyndaris, daughter of Tyndarus (Tyndareus), Helen; Chryseïs, daughter of Chryses.

=Interpretative.= Of this incident Gladstone, in his primer on Homer, says: "One of the greatest branches and props of morality for the heroic age lay in the care of the stranger and the poor.... Sacrifice could not be substituted for duty, nor could prayer. Such, on the abduction of Chryseïs, was the reply of Calchas the Seer: nothing would avail but restitution."

=78. The Dynasty of Tantalus and its Connections.= (See also Table I.)

TABLE F

=Jupiter= +-- =Tantalus= (k. of Phrygia) =Dione +-- =Niobe= | ==Amphion= | +-- 7 sons and 7 daughters +-- =Pelops= =Hippodamia +-- =Atreus= | =Aërope | +-- =Agamemnon= | +-- =Menelaüs= +-- Thyestes | +-- Ægisthus +-- Pittheus (k. of Tr[oe]zen) +-- Æthra =Ægeus +-- Theseus =Antiope +-- =Amphion= ==Niobe= +-- 7 sons and 7 daughters (see above)

=Atlas= +-- Dione | ==Tantalus= (k. of Phrygia) | +-- =Niobe= (see above) | +-- =Pelops= (see above) +-- Sterope II =Mars +-- [OE]nomaüs +-- Hippodamia ==Pelops= +-- =Atreus= (see above) +-- Thyestes (see above) +-- Pittheus (k. of Tr[oe]zen) (see above)

Minos II +-- Aërope ==Atreus= +-- =Agamemnon= (see above) +-- =Menelaüs= (see above)

=Pelops.= It is said that the goddess Demeter in a fit of absent-mindedness ate the shoulder of Pelops. The part was replaced in ivory when Pelops was restored to life. =Mount Cynthus=: in Delos, where Apollo and Diana were born.

= Max Müller derives =Niobe= from the root snu, or snigh, from which come the words for snow in the Indo-European languages. In Latin and Greek, the stem is Niv_, hence Nib, Niobe. The myth, therefore, would signify the melting of snow and the destruction of its icy offspring under the rays of the spring sun (Sci. Relig. 372). According to Homer (Iliad, 24, 611), there were six sons and six daughters. After their death no one could bury them, since all who looked on them were turned to stone. The burial was, accordingly, performed on the tenth day after the massacre, by Jupiter and the other gods. This petrifaction of the onlookers may indicate the operation of the frost. Cox says that Niobe, the snow, compares her golden-tinted, wintry mists or clouds with the splendor of the sun and moon. Others look on the myth as significant of the withering of spring vegetation under the heats of summer (Preller).

The latter explanation is as satisfactory, for spring is the child of winter (Niobe).

=Illustrative.= Pope, Dunciad, 2, 311; Lewis Morris, Niobe on Sipylus (Songs Unsung); Byron's noble stanza on fallen Rome, "The Niobe of nations! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe," etc. (Childe Harold, 4, 79); W. S. Landor, Niobe; Frederick Tennyson, Niobe. On =Tantalus=, see Lewis Morris, Tantalus, in The Epic of Hades. On Sir Richard Blackmore, a physician and poor poet, Thomas Moore writes the following stanza:

'T was in his carriage the sublime Sir Richard Blackmore used to rhyme, And, if the wits don't do him wrong, 'Twixt death and epics passed his time, Scribbling and killing all day long; Like Ph[oe]bus in his car at ease, Now warbling forth a lofty song, Now murdering the young Niobes.

=In Art.= The restoration of the statue of Niobe, Mount Sipylus; of extreme antiquity. The St. Petersburg relief (Fig. 61, in text) is probably the best group. Figs. 60 and 62 are from the ancient marbles in the Uffizi, Florence. The fragments of the latter group were discovered in 1583 near the Porta San Giovanni, Rome. The figure of the mother, clasping the little girl who has run to her in terror, is one of the most admired of the ancient statues. It ranks with the Laocoön and the Apollo Belvedere among the masterpieces of art. The following is a translation of a Greek epigram supposed to relate to this statue:

To stone the gods have changed her, but in vain; The sculptor's art has made her breathe again.

There is also a fine figure of a daughter of Niobe in the Vatican, Rome; and there are figures in the Louvre. Reinach in his Apollo attributes the originals to Scopas.

=79. Interpretative.= The month in which the festival of =Linus= took place was called the =Lambs' Month=: the days were the =Lambs' Days=, on one of which was a massacre of dogs. According to some, Linus was a minstrel, son of Apollo and the Muse Urania, and the teacher of Orpheus and Hercules.

=80. Centaurs.= Monsters represented as men from the head to the loins, while the remainder of the body was that of a horse. Centaurs are the only monsters of antiquity to which any good traits were assigned. They were admitted to the companionship of men. =Chiron= was the wisest and justest of the Centaurs. At his death he was placed by Jupiter among the stars as the constellation Sagittarius (the Archer). =Messenia=: in the Peloponnesus. =Æsculapius=: there were numerous oracles of Æsculapius, but the most celebrated was at Epidaurus. Here the sick sought responses and the recovery of their health by sleeping in the temple. It has been inferred from the accounts that have come down to us that the treatment of the sick resembled what is now called animal magnetism or mesmerism.

Serpents were sacred to Æsculapius, probably because of a superstition that those animals have a faculty of renewing their youth by a change of skin. The worship of Æsculapius was introduced into Rome in a time of great sickness. An embassy, sent to the temple of Epidaurus to entreat the aid of the god, was propitiously received; and on the return of the ship Æsculapius accompanied it in the form of a serpent. Arriving in the river Tiber, the serpent glided from the vessel and took possession of an island, on which a temple was soon erected to his honor.

=Interpretative.= The healing powers of nature may be here symbolized. But it is more likely that the family of Asclepiadæ (a medical clan) invented Asklepios as at once their ancestor and the son of the god of healing, Apollo.

=Illustrative.= Milton, Paradise Lost, 9, 506; Shakespeare, Pericles, III, ii; Merry Wives, II, iii.

=In Art.= Æsculapius (sculpture), Vatican; also the statue in the Uffizi, Florence (text, Fig. 63). Thorwaldsen's (sculpture) Hygea (Health) and Æsculapius, Copenhagen.

=81. Interpretative.= Perhaps the unceasing and unvarying round of the sun led to the conception of him as a servant. Max Müller cites the Peruvian Inca who said that if the sun were free, like fire, he would visit new parts of the heavens. "He is," said the Inca, "like a tied beast who goes ever round and round in the same track" (Chips, etc., 2, 113). Nearly all Greek heroes had to undergo servitude,--Hercules, Perseus, etc. No stories are more beautiful or more lofty than those which express the hope, innate in the human heart, that somewhere and at some time some god has lived as a man among men and for the good of men. Such stories are not confined to the Greeks or the Hebrews.

=Illustrative=. R. Browning, Apollo and the Fates; Edith M. Thomas, Apollo the Shepherd; Emma Lazarus, Admetus; W. M. W. Call, Admetus.

=83. Textual. Alcestis= was a daughter of the Pelias who was killed at the instigation of Medea (=167=). In that affair Alcestis took no part. For her family, see Table G. She was held in the highest honor in Greek fable, and ranked with Penelope and Laodamia, the latter of whom was her niece. To explain the myth as a physical allegory would be easy, but is it not more likely that the idea of substitution finds expression in the myth?--that idea of atonement by sacrifice, which is suggested in the words of [OE]dipus at Colonus (=185=), "For one soul working in the strength of love Is mightier than ten thousand to atone." =Koré= (the daughter of Ceres): Proserpina. =Larissa=: a city of Thessaly, on the river Peneüs.

=Illustrative.= Milton's sonnet, On his Deceased Wife:

Methought I saw my late espousèd saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint.

Chaucer, Legende of Good Women, 208 et seq.; Court of Love (?), 100 et seq.

=Poems.= Robert Browning's noble poem, Balaustion's Adventure, purports to be a paraphrase of the Alcestis of Euripides, but while it maintains the classical spirit, it is in execution an original poem. The Love of Alcestis, by William Morris; Mrs. Hemans, The Alcestis of Alfieri, and The Death Song of Alcestis; W. S. Landor, Hercules, Pluto, Alcestis, and Admetus; Alcestis: F. T. Palgrave, W. M. W. Call, John Todhunter (a drama).

=In Art.= Fig. 64, in text, Naples Museum; also the relief on a Roman sarcophagus in the Vatican.

=84. Textual.= This Laomedon was descended, through Dardanus (the forefather of the Trojan race), from Jupiter and the Pleiad Electra. For further information about him, see =119=, =161=, and Table I.

=Interpretative.= Apollo evidently fulfills, under Laomedon, his function as god of colonization.

=85-86. Textual.= For Pan, see =43=; for Tmolus, =76=. =Peneüs=: a river in Thessaly, which rises in Mount Pindus and flows through the wooded valley of Tempe. =Dædal=: variously adorned, variegated. Midas was king of Phrygia (see =113=).

=Illustrative.= The story of King Midas has been told by others with some variations. Dryden, in the Wife of Bath's Tale, makes Midas' queen the betrayer of the secret:

This Midas knew, and durst communicate To none but to his wife his ears of state.

=87. Illustrative.= M. Arnold, Empedocles (Song of Callicles); L. Morris, Marsyas, in The Epic of Hades; Edith M. Thomas, Marsyas; E. Lee-Hamilton, Apollo and Marsyas.

=In Art.= Raphael's drawing, Apollo and Marsyas (Museum, Venice); Bordone's Apollo, Marsyas, and Midas (Dresden); the Græco-Roman sculpture, Marsyas (Louvre); Marsyas (or Dancing Faun), in the Lateran, Rome.

=89. Textual.= Daphne was a sister of Cyrene, another sweetheart of Apollo's (=145=). =Delphi=, in Phocis, and =Tenedos=, an island off the coast of Asia Minor, near Troy, were celebrated for their temples of Apollo. The latter temple was sacred to =Apollo Smintheus=, the Mouse-Apollo, probably because he had rid that country of mice as St. Patrick rid Ireland of snakes and toads. =Dido=: queen of Carthage (=252=), whose lover, Æneas, sailed away from her.

= Max Müller's explanation is poetic though not philologically probable. "Daphne, or Ahanâ, means the Dawn. There is first the appearance of the dawn in the eastern sky, then the rising of the sun as if hurrying after his bride, then the gradual fading away of the bright dawn at the touch of the fiery rays of the sun, and at last her death or disappearance in the lap of her mother, the earth." The word Daphne also means, in Greek, a laurel; hence the legend that Daphne was changed into a laurel tree (Sci. , 378, 379). Others construe Daphne as the lightning_. It is, however, very probable that the Greeks of the myth-making age, finding certain plants and flowers sacred to Apollo, would invent stories to explain why he preferred the laurel, the hyacinth, the sunflower, etc. "Such myths of metamorphoses" are, as Mr. , 2, 206).

=Illustrative.= Shakespeare, Midsummer Night's Dream, II, ii; Taming of the Shrew, Induction ii; Troilus and Cressida, I, i; Milton, Comus, 59, 662; Hymn on the Nativity, II. 176-180, Vacation, 33-40; Paradise Lost, 4, 268-275; Paradise Regained, 2, 187; Lord de Tabley (Wm. Lancaster), Daphne, "All day long, In devious forest, Grove, and fountain side, The god had sought his Daphne," etc.; Lyly, King Mydas; Apollo's Song to Daphne; Frederick Tennyson, Daphne. Waller applies this story to the case of one whose amatory verses, though they did not soften the heart of his mistress, yet won for the poet widespread fame:

Yet what he sung in his immortal strain, Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain. All but the nymph that should redress his wrong, Attend his passion and approve his song. Like Ph[oe]bus thus, acquiring unsought praise, He caught at love and filled his arms with bays.

=In Art.= Fig. 67, in text; Bernini's Apollo and Daphne, in the Villa Borghese, Rome (see text, opp. p. 112). Painting: G. F. Watts' Daphne.

=91. Illustrative.= Hood, Flowers, "I will not have the mad Clytia, Whose head is turned by the sun," etc.; W. W. Story, Clytie; Mrs. A. Fields, Clytia. The so-called bust of Clytie (discovered not long ago) is possibly a representation of Isis.

=93. Textual. Elis=: northwestern part of the Peloponnesus. =Alpheüs=: a river of Elis flowing to the Mediterranean. The river Alpheüs does in fact disappear under ground, in part of its course, finding its way through subterranean channels, till it again appears on the surface. It was said that the Sicilian fountain Arethusa was the same stream, which, after passing under the sea, came up again in Sicily. Hence the story ran that a cup thrown into the Alpheüs appeared again in the Arethusa. It is, possibly, this fable of the underground course of Alpheüs that Coleridge has in mind in his dream of Kubla Khan:

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man, Down to a sunless sea.

In one of Moore's juvenile poems he alludes to the practice of throwing garlands or other light objects on the stream of Alpheüs, to be carried downward by it, and afterward reproduced at its emerging, "as an offering To lay at Arethusa's feet."

=The Acroceraunian Mountains= are in Epirus in the northern part of Greece. It is hardly necessary to point out that a river Arethusa arising there could not possibly be approached by an Alpheüs of the Peloponnesus. Such a criticism of Shelley's sparkling verses would however be pedantic rather than just. Probably Shelley uses the word Acroceraunian as synonymous with steep, dangerous. If so, he had the practice of Ovid behind him (Remedium Amoris, 739). =Mount Erymanthus=: between Arcadia and Achaia. The =Dorian= deep: the Peloponnesus was inhabited by descendants of the fabulous Dorus. =Enna=: a city in the center of Sicily. =Ortygia=: an island on which part of the city of Syracuse is built.

=Illustrative.= Milton, Arcades, 30; Lycidas, 132; Margaret J. Preston, The Flight of Arethusa; Keats, Endymion, Bk. 2, "On either side out-gushed, with misty spray, A copious spring."

=95.= See genealogical table =E= for =Actæon=. In this myth Preller finds another allegory of the baleful influence of the dog days on those exposed to the heat. Cox's theory that here we have large masses of cloud which, having dared to look on the clear sky, are torn to pieces and scattered by the winds, is principally instructive as illustrating how far afield theorists have gone, and how easy it is to invent ingenious explanations.

=Illustrative.= Shakespeare, Merry Wives, II, i; III, ii; Titus Andronicus, II, iii; Shelley, Adonais, 31, "Midst others of less note, came one frail Form," etc., a touching allusion to himself; A. H. Clough, Actæon; L. Morris, Actæon (Epic of Hades).

=96. Chios=: an island in the Ægean. =Lemnos=: another island in the Ægean, where Vulcan had a forge.

=Interpretative.= The ancients were wont to glorify in fable constellations of remarkable brilliancy or form. The heavenly adventures of =Orion= are sufficiently explained by the text.

=Illustrative.= Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 3, 31; Milton, Paradise Lost, 1, 299, "Natheless he so endured," etc.; Longfellow, Occultation of Orion; R. H. Horne, Orion; Charles Tennyson Turner, Orion (a sonnet).

=97. Electra.= See genealogical table I. See same table for =Merope=, the mother of Glaucus and grandmother of Bellerophon (=155=).

=Illustrative. Pleiads=: Milton, Paradise Lost, 7, 374; Pope, Spring, 102; Mrs. Hemans has verses on the same subject; Byron, "Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below."

In modern sculpture, The Lost Pleiad of Randolph Rogers is famous; in painting, the Pleiades of Elihu Vedder (Fig. 72, in text).

=98. Mount Latmos=: in Caria. Diana is sometimes called =Ph[oe]be=, the shining one. For the descendants of Endymion, the Ætolians, etc., see Table I.

=Interpretative.= According to the simplest explanation of the =Endymion= myth, the hero is the setting sun on whom the upward rising moon delights to gaze. His fifty children by Selene would then be the fifty months of the Olympiad, or Greek period of four years. Some, however, consider him to be a personification of sleep, the king whose influence comes over one in the cool caves of Latmos, "the Mount of Oblivion"; others, the growth of vegetation under the dewy moonlight; still others, euhemeristically, a young hunter, who under the moonlight followed the chase, but in the daytime slept.

=Illustrative.= The Endymion of Keats. Fletcher, in the Faithful Shepherdess, tells, "How the pale Ph[oe]be, hunting in a grove, First saw the boy Endymion," etc. Young, Night Thoughts, "So Cynthia, poets feign, In shadows veiled,... Her shepherd cheered"; Spenser, Epithalamion, "The Latmian Shepherd," etc.; Marvel, Songs on Lord Fauconberg and the Lady Mary Cromwell (chorus, Endymion and Laura); O. W. Holmes, Metrical Essays, "And, Night's chaste empress, in her bridal play, Laughed through the foliage where Endymion lay."

=Poems.= Besides Keats' the most important are by Lowell, Longfellow, Clough (Epi Latmo, and Selene), T. B. Read, Buchanan, L. Morris (Epic of Hades). John Lyly's prose drama, Endymion, contains quaint and delicate songs.

=In Art.= Fig. 73, in text; Diana and the sleeping Endymion (Vatican).

=Paintings.= Carracci's fresco, Diana embracing Endymion (Farnese Palace, Rome); Guercino's Sleeping Endymion; G. F. Watts' Endymion.

=100. Textual. Paphos= and =Amathus=: towns in Cyprus, of which the former contained a temple to Venus. =Cnidos= (Cnidus or Gnidus): a town in Caria, where stood a famous statue of Venus, attributed to Praxiteles. =Cytherea=: Venus, an adjective derived from her island Cythera in the Ægean Sea. =Acheron=, and =Persephone= or =Proserpine=: see =44-48=. The wind-flower of the Greeks was of bloody hue, like that of the pomegranate. It is said the wind blows the blossoms open, and afterwards scatters the petals.

= Among the P[oe]nicians Venus is known as Astarte, among the Assyrians as Istar. The =Adonis= of this story is the Ph[oe]nician Adon, or the Hebrew Adonai_, 'Lord.' The myth derives its origin from the Babylonian worship of Thammuz or Adon, who represents the verdure of spring, and whom his mistress, the goddess of fertility, seeks, after his death, in the lower regions. With their departure all birth and fruitage cease on the earth; but when he has been revived by sprinkling of water, and restored to his mistress and to earth, all nature again rejoices. The myth is akin to those of Linus, Hyacinthus, and Narcissus. Mannhardt (Wald-und Feld-kulte, 274), cited by Roscher, supplies the following characteristics common to such religious rites in various lands: (1) The spring is personified as a beautiful youth who is represented by an image surrounded by quickly fading flowers from the "garden of Adonis."

(2) He comes in the early year and is beloved by a goddess of vegetation, goddess sometimes of the moon, sometimes of the star of Love. (3) In midsummer he dies, and during autumn and winter inhabits the underworld. (4) His burial is attended with lamentations, his resurrection with festivals. (5) These events take place in midsummer and in spring. (6) The image and the Adonis plants are thrown into water. (7) Sham marriages are celebrated between pairs of worshipers.

=Illustrative.= The realistic Idyl XV of Theocritus contains a typical Psalm of Adonis, sung at Alexandria, for his resurrection. Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis; Taming of the Shrew, Induction ii; 1 Henry VI, I, vi. In Milton, Comus, 998:

Beds of hyacinth and roses, Where young Adonis oft reposes, Waxing well of his deep wound, In slumber soft, and on the ground Sadly sits th' Assyrian queen.

Drummond, The Statue of Adonis; Pope, Summer, 61; Winter, 24; Miscel. 7, 10; Moral Essays, 3, 73; Dunciad, 5, 202. See C. S. Calverley, Death of Adonis (Theocritus); L. Morris, Adonis (Epic of Hades).

=In Art.= Fig. 74, in text, from a Roman sarcophagus. The Dying Adonis, (sculpture), Michelangelo; the Adonis of Thorwaldsen in the Glyptothek, Munich.

=101-102. Textual. Psyche= does not eat anything in Hades, because, by accepting the hospitality of Proserpina, she would become an inmate of her household. The scene with the lamp and knife probably indicates the infringement of some ancient matrimonial custom. =Erebus=: the land of darkness, Hades. For =Zephyr=, =Acheron=, =Cerberus=, =Charon=, etc., see Index.

= The fable of Cupid and Psyche is usually regarded as allegorical. The Greek name for butterfly is Psyche, and the same word means the soul. There is no illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and beautiful as that of the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, groveling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the spring. Psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness. It is probable that the story allegorizes a philosophical conception concerning three_ stages of the soul's life: first, a former existence of bliss; second, an earthly existence of trial; third, a heavenly future of fruition. Cox, by his usual method, finds here a myth of the search for the Sun (Eros) by the Dawn (Psyche).

Many of the incidents of the story will be found in modern fairy tales and romances, such as Beauty and the Beast, Grimm's Twelve Brothers; the Gaelic stories: The Three Daughters of King O'Hara; Fair, Brown, and Trembling; The Daughter of the Skies; and the Norse tale--East of the Sun and West of the Moon. See Cox 1, 403-411.

=Illustrative.= Thomas Moore, Cupid and Psyche; Mrs. Browning, Psyche, Paraphrase on Apuleius; L. Morris, in The Epic of Hades; Frederick Tennyson, Psyche; Robert Bridges, Eros and Psyche. Most important is W. H. Pater's Marius the Epicurean, which contains the story as given by Apuleius.

=In Art.= Psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings of a butterfly, in the different situations described in the allegory. The Græco-Roman sculpture of Cupid and Psyche, in the Capitol at Rome, is of surpassing beauty; so also is Canova's Cupid and Psyche.

=Paintings.= Raphael's frescoes in the Farnesina Villa, twelve in number, illustrating the story; François Gérard's Cupid and Psyche; Paul Thumann's nine illustrations of the story (see Figs. 75, 76, in text); R. Beyschlag's Psyche with the Urn, Psyche Grieving, and Psyche and Pan; W. Kray's Psyche and Zephyr; Psyche: by A. de Curzon; by G. F. Watts, a series of three illustrations by H. Bates. The Charon and Psyche of E. Neide is a sentimental, simpering conception. A. Zick also has a Psyche.

=103.= According to another tradition, =Atalanta's= love was Milanion. The nuptial vow was ratified by Hera (Juno). This, the B[oe]otian, Atalanta is sometimes identified with the Arcadian Atalanta of the Calydonian Hunt. (See =168= and Table D). It is better to discriminate between them. The genealogy of this Atalanta will be seen in Tables G and I.

=Illustrative.= W. Morris, Atalanta's Race (Earthly Paradise); Moore, Rhymes on the Road, on Alpine Scenery,--an allusion to Hippomenes.

=In Art.= Painting by E. J. Poynter, Atalanta's Race (Fig. 78, in text); and Guido Reni's brilliant picture of the same subject.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

=104. Textual= and =Illustrative.= The story of =Hero and Leander= is the subject of a romantic poem by Musæus, a grammarian of Alexandria, who lived in the fifth century A.D. This author, in distinction from the mythical poet of the same name, is styled the Pseudo-Musæus. The epyllion has been translated by Sir Robert Stapylton, Sir Edwin Arnold, and others. The feat of swimming the Hellespont was performed by Lord Byron. The distance in the narrowest part is not more than a mile, but there is a constant dangerous current setting out from the Sea of Marmora into the Archipelago. For an allusion to the story see Byron, Bride of Abydos, Canto II. For Byron's statement concerning the breadth of the water see footnote to "Stanzas written after swimming from Sestos to Abydos."

=Poems. Hero and Leander=: by Leigh Hunt, by Tom Hood, by Moore; sonnet by D. G. Rossetti, Hero's Lamp (House of Life); a poem not in later editions of Tennyson, Hero to Leander, 1830; Chapman's continuation of Marlowe's Hero and Leander.

=Paintings.= G. von Bodenhausen; F. Keller (Fig. 79, in text).

=105. Interpretative.= Another illustration of the vivifying influence of love. Preller deems Pygmalion's story nearly akin to the Adonis myth. He regards the festival of Venus, during which the statue of Galatea (or passive love) receives life, as the usual Adonis-festival.

TABLE G. THE CONNECTIONS OF ATALANTA THE B[OE]OTIAN

=Prometheus= +-- Deucalion =Pyrrha +-- Hellen +-- Æolus | +-- Other sons (See Table I) | +-- Athamas | | =Nephele | | +-- =Helle= | | +-- Phryxus | | =Ino | | +-- Melicertes | | =Themisto | | +-- =Sch[oe]nus= of B[oe]otia | | +-- =Atalanta= (Hippomenes) | +-- Sisyphus (Merope) | | +-- =Glaucus= | | +-- =Bellerophon= | +-- Salmoneus | | +-- Tyro | | =Neptune | | +-- Neleus | | | +-- Nestor | | | | +-- Antilochus | | | +-- Pero | | | =Bias | | | +-- Talaüs | | | +-- Adrastus | | | +-- Eriphyle | | | =Amphiaraüs | | | +-- Alcmæon | | | | =Arsinoë | | | +-- Amphilochus | | +-- Pelias | | +-- =Evadne= | | +-- Acastus | | | +-- =Laodamia= | | | =Protesilaüs | | +-- =Alcestis= | | ==Admetus= | | =Cretheus | | +-- Pheres | | | +-- =Admetus= | | | ==Alcestis= | | +-- Æson | | | +-- =Jason= | | +-- Amythaon | | +-- Bias | | | =Pero | | | +-- Talaüs (see above) | | +-- Melampus (the Prophet) | | +-- Antiphates | | +-- Oïcles | | =Hypermnestra | | +-- Amphiaraüs | | =Eriphyle | | +-- Alcmæon (see above) | | +-- Amphilochus (see above) | +-- Cretheus | =Tyro | +-- Pheres (see above) | +-- Æson (see above) | +-- Amythaon (see above) +-- Dorus +-- Xuthus +-- Achæus +-- Ion

=Epimetheus= ==Pandora= +-- Pyrrha =Deucalion +-- Hellen (see above)

=Illustrative.= Thomson, Castle of Indolence, 2, 12; R. Buchanan, Pygmalion the Sculptor; Morris, and Lang, as in text; Pygmalion: by T. L. Beddoes, by W. C. Bennett. The seventeenth-century satirist, Marston, wrote a Pygmalion, of no great worth. Frederick Tennyson, Pygmalion (in Daphne and other Poems); Arthur Henry Hallam, Lines spoken in the Character of Pygmalion; Thomas Woolner, Pygmalion.

=In Art.= The Pygmalion series of four scenes, by E. Burne-Jones.

=106. Textual. Semiramis=: wife of King Ninus and the queen of Assyria. Famous for her administrative and military ability. A mythical character with features of historic probability.

=Illustrative.= Chaucer, Thisbe, the Martyr of Babylon (Legende of Good Women). Allusions in Surrey, Of the Death of Sir Thomas Wyatt; Shakespeare, Midsummer Night's Dream, III, ii; V, i; Merchant of Venice, V, i. Moore, in the Sylph's Ball, draws a comparison between Thisbe's wall and the gauze of Davy's safety lamp. Mickle's translation of the Lusiad (Island of Love).

=In Art.= Burne-Jones' three paintings, Cupid, Pyramus, and Thisbe (Fig. 80, in text); E. J. Paupion's painting, Thisbe.

=107. Textual. Lesbos= and =Chios=: islands in the Ægean. For =Sappho= see =298= (3).

=Illustrative.= The second lyric of Sappho, beginning "Like to the gods he seems to me, The man that sits reclined by thee," has been translated by Phillips, by Fawkes, and by recent poets. The reference is probably to Phaon. Allusions in Pope, Moral Essays, 3, 121; 2, 24; Prologue to Satires, 309, 101; Byron's Isles of Greece, already referred to. Compare the translation in Catullus, LI.

=Poems= on Sappho or on Phaon: Charles Kingsley, Sappho; Buchanan, Sappho on the Leucadian Rock; Landor,--Sappho, Alcæus, Anacreon, and Phaon; Frederick Tennyson, Kleïs or the Return (in the Isles of Greece). See also Lyly's amusing prose drama, Sappho and Phao.

=109. Textual. Mount Cyllene=: between Arcadia and Achæa. =Pierian Mountains=: in Macedonia, directly north of Thessaly; the birthplace of the Muses. =Pylos=: an ancient city of Elis.

= On the supposition that the herds of Apollo are the bright rays of the sun, a plausible physical explanation of the relations of =Mercury= (Hermes) to Apollo is the following from Max Müller: "Hermes is the god of the twilight, who betrays his equivocal nature by stealing, though only in fun, the herds of Apollo, but restoring them without the violent combat that (in the analogous Indian story) is waged for the herds between Indra, the bright god, and Vala, the robber. , 521-522). Hermes is connected by Professor Müller with the Vedic god Sarameya_, son of the twilight. Mercury, or Hermes, as morning or as evening twilight, loves the Dew, is herald of the gods, is spy of the night, is sender of sleep and dreams, is accompanied by the cock, herald of dawn, is the guide of the departed on their last journey.

To the conception of twilight, Cox adds that of motion, and explains Hermes as the air in motion that springs up with the dawn, gains rapidly in force, sweeps before it the clouds (here the cattle of Apollo), makes soft music through the trees (lyre), etc. Other theorists make Hermes the Divine Activity, the god of the ether, of clouds, of storm, etc. Though the explanations of Professor Müller and the Rev. Sir G. W. Cox are more satisfactory here than usual, Roscher's the swift wind is scientifically preferable.

=Illustrative.= See Shelley, Homeric Hymn to Mercury, on which the text of this section is based, and passages in Prometheus Unbound; Keats, Ode to Maia.

=In Art.= The intent of the disguise in Fig. 81 (text) is to deceive Demeter with a sham sacrifice.

=110-112. Textual.= See Table E, for Bacchus, Pentheus, etc. =Nysa= "has been identified as a mountain in Thrace, in B[oe]otia, in Arabia, India, Libya; and Naxos, as a town in Caria or the Caucasus, and as an island in the Nile." =Thebes=: the capital of B[oe]otia. =Mæonia=: Lydia, in Asia Minor. =Dia=: Naxos, the largest of the Cyclades Islands in the Ægean. =Mount Cithæron=: in B[oe]otia. The =Thyrsus= was a wand, wreathed with ivy and surmounted by a pine cone, carried by Bacchus and his votaries. =Mænads= and =Bacchantes= were female followers of Bacchus. =Bacchanal= is a general term for his devotees.

, 2, 221 (from Preller 1, 554). The =Hyades= (rain-stars), that nurtured the deity, perhaps symbolize the rains that nourish sprouting vegetation. He became identified very soon with the spirituous effects of the vine. His sufferings may typify the "ruin of the summer year at the hands of storm and winter," or, perhaps, the agony of the bleeding grapes in the wine press. The orgies would, according to this theory, be a survival of the ungoverned actions of savages when celebrating a festival in honor of the deity of plenty, of harvest home, and of intoxication. But in cultivated Greece, Dionysus, in spite of the surviving orgiastic ceremonies, is a poetic incarnation of blithe, changeable, spirited youth. , 2, 221-241. That =Rhea= taught him would account for the Oriental nature of his rites; for Rhea is an Eastern deity by origin.

The opposition of =Pentheus= would indicate the reluctance with which the Greeks adopted his doctrine and ceremonial. The Dionysiac worship came from Thrace, a barbarous clime;--but wandering, like the springtide, over the earth, Bacchus conquered each nation in turn. It is probable that the Dionysus-Iacchus cult was one of evangelical enthusiasm and individual cleansing from sin, of ideals in this life and of personal immortality in the next. By introducing it into Greece, Pisistratus reformed the exclusive ritual of the Eleusinian Mysteries.

Of the =Festivals of Dionysus=, the more important in Attica were the Lesser Dionysia, in December; the Lenæa, in January; the Anthesteria, or spring festival, in February; and the Great Dionysia, in March. These all, in greater or less degree, witnessed of the culture and the glories of the vine, and of the reawakening of the spirits of vegetation. They were celebrated, as the case might be, with a sacrifice of a victim in reminiscence of the blood by which the spirits of the departed were supposed to be nourished, with processions of women, profusion of flowers, orgiastic songs and dances, or dramatic representations.

=Illustrative. Bacchus=: Milton, Comus, 46. =Pentheus=: Landor, The Last Fruit of an Old Tree; H. H. Milman, The Bacchanals of Euripides; Calverley's and Lang's translations of Theocritus, Idyl XXVI; Thomas Love Peacock, Rhododaphne: The Vengeance of Bacchus; B. W. Procter, Bacchanalian Song. =Naxos=: Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 275.

=In Art.= Figs. 31, 82-87, 143, in text.

=113. Textual.= Hesperides, see Index. =River Pactolus=: in Lydia. =Midas=: the son of one Gordius, who from a farmer had become king of Phrygia, because he happened to fulfill a prophecy by entering the public square of some city just as the people were casting about for a king. He tied his wagon in the temple of the prophetic deity with the celebrated =Gordian Knot=, which none but the future lord of Asia might undo. Alexander the Great undid the knot with his sword.

=Interpretative.= An ingenious, but not highly probable, theory explains the golden touch of Midas as the rising sun that gilds all things, and his bathing in Pactolus as the quenching of the sun's splendor in the western ocean. =Midas= is fabled to have been the son of the "great mother," Cybele, whose worship in Phrygia was closely related to that of Bacchus or Dionysus. The =Sileni= were there regarded as tutelary genii of the rivers and springs, promoting fertility of the soil. =Marsyas=, an inspired musician in the service of Cybele, was naturally associated in fable with Midas. The ass being the favorite animal of Silenus, the ass's ears of Midas merely symbolize his fondness for and devotion to such habits as were attributed to the Sileni. The ass, by the way, was reverenced in Phrygia; the acquisition of ass's ears may therefore have been originally a glory, not a disgrace.

=Illustrative.= John Lyly, Play of Mydas, especially the song, "Sing to Apollo, god of day"; Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, III, ii (casket scene); Pope, Dunciad, 3, 342; Prologue to Satires, 82; Swift, The Fable of Midas; J. G. Saxe, The Choice of King Midas (a travesty). =Gordian Knot=: Henry V, I, i; Cymbeline, II, ii; Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 348; Vacation, 90. =Pactolus=: Pope, Spring, 61; allusions also to the sisters of Phaëthon. =Silenus=, by W. S. Landor.

=114-117. Textual. Mount Eryx=, the vale of =Enna=, and =Cyane= are in Sicily. =Eleusis=: in Attica. For =Arethusa= see Index.

C. Proserpine signifies the seed-corn which, when cast into the ground, lies there concealed,--is carried off by the god of the underworld; when the corn reappears, Proserpine is restored to her mother. Spring leads her back to the light of day. The following, from Aubrey De Vere's Introduction to his Search for Proserpine, is suggestive: "Of all the beautiful fictions of Greek Mythology, there are few more exquisite than the story of Proserpine, and none deeper in symbolical meaning. Considering the fable with reference to the physical world, Bacon says, in his Wisdom of the Ancients, that by the Rape of Proserpine is signified the disappearance of flowers at the end of the year, when the vital juices are, as it were, drawn down to the central darkness, and held there in bondage.

Following up this view of the subject, the Search of her Mother, sad and unavailing as it was, would seem no unfit emblem of Autumn and the restless melancholy of the season; while the hope with which the Goddess was finally cheered may perhaps remind us of that unexpected return of fine weather which occurs so frequently, like an omen of Spring, just before Winter closes in. The fable has, however, its moral significance also, being connected with that great mystery of Joy and Grief, of Life and Death, which pressed so heavily on the mind of Pagan Greece, and imparts to the whole of her mythology a profound interest, spiritual as well as philosophical. It was the restoration of Man, not of flowers, the victory over Death, not over Winter, with which that high Intelligence felt itself to be really concerned." In Greece two kinds of =Festivals=, the =Eleusinia= and the =Thesmophoria=, were held in honor of Demeter and Persephone.

The former was divided into the lesser, celebrated in February, and the greater (lasting nine days), in September. Distinction must be made between the Festivals and the Mysteries of Eleusis. In the Festivals all classes might participate. Those of the Spring represented the restoration of Persephone to her mother; those of the Autumn the rape of Persephone. An image of the youthful Iacchus (Bacchus) headed the procession in its march toward Eleusis. At that place and in the neighborhood were enacted in realistic fashion the wanderings and the sufferings of Demeter, the scenes in the house of Celeus, and finally the successful conclusion of the search for Persephone. The =Mysteries= of Eleusis were witnessed only by the initiated, and were invested with a veil of secrecy which has never been fully withdrawn.

The initiates passed through certain symbolic ceremonies from one degree of mystic enlightenment to another till the highest was attained. The Lesser Mysteries were an introduction to the Greater; and it is known that the rites involved partook of the nature of purification from passion, crime, and the various degradations of human existence. By pious contemplation of the dramatic scenes presenting the sorrows of Demeter, and by participation in sacramental rites, it is probable that the initiated were instructed in the nature of life and death, and consoled with the hope of immortality (Preller). , 2, 275, and Lobeck, Aglaophamus, 133.

The =Thesmophoria= were celebrated by married women in honor of Ceres (Demeter), and referred to institutions of married life.

That Proserpine should be under bonds to the underworld because she had partaken of food in Hades accords with a superstition not peculiar to the Greeks, but to be "found in New Zealand, Melanesia, Scotland, Finland, and among the Ojibbeways" (Lang, Myth, Ritual, etc., 2, 273).

=Illustrative.= Aubrey De Vere, as above; B. W. Procter, The Rape of Proserpine; R. H. Stoddard, The Search for Persephone; G. Meredith, The Appeasement of Demeter; Tennyson, Demeter and Persephone; Dora Greenwell, Demeter and Cora; T. L. Beddoes, Song of the Stygian Naiades; A. C. Swinburne, Song to Proserpine. See also notes under Persephone, =44=, Demeter and Pluto. =Eleusis=: Schiller, Festival of Eleusis, translated by N. L. Frothingham; At Eleusis, by Swinburne. See, for poetical reference, Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 269, "Not that fair field Of Enna," etc.; Hood, Ode to Melancholy:

Forgive if somewhile I forget, In woe to come the present bliss; As frighted Proserpine let fall Her flowers at the sight of Dis.

=In Art.= Bernini's Pluto and Proserpine (sculpture); P. Schobelt's Rape of Proserpine (picture). Eleusinian relief: Demeter, Cora, Triptolemus (Athens); and other figures, as in text.

=118. Textual. Tænarus=: in Laconia. For the crime of =Tantalus=, see =78=. In Hades he stood up to his neck in water which receded when he would drink; grapes hanging above his head withdrew when he would pluck them; while a great rock was forever just about to fall on him. =Ixion=, for an insult to Juno, was lashed with serpents or brazen bands to an ever-revolving wheel. =Sisyphus=, for his treachery to the gods, vainly rolled a stone toward the top of a hill (see =255=). For the =Danaïds=, see =150=; =Cerberus=, =44=, =255=. =The Dynast's bond=: the contract with Pluto, who was Dynast or tyrant of Hades. =Ferry-guard=: Charon. =Strymon= and =Hebrus=: rivers of Thrace. =Libethra=: a city on the side of Mount Olympus, between Thessaly and Macedonia.

The loss of Eurydice= may signify (like the death of Adonis and the rape of Proserpine) the departure of spring. , 2, 127). According to this explanation the Sun follows Eurydice, "the wide-spreading flush of the dawn who has been stung by the serpent of night," into the regions of darkness. There he recovers Eurydice, but while he looks back on her she fades before his gaze, as the mists of morning vanish before the glory of the rising sun (Cox). It might be more consistent to construe Eurydice as the twilight_, first, of evening which is slain by night, then, of morning which is dissipated by sunrise. Cox finds in the music of Orpheus the delicious strains of the breezes which accompany sunrise and sunset. The story should be compared with that of Apollo and Daphne, and of Mercury and Apollo. The Irish tale, The Three Daughters of King O'Hara, reverses the relation of Orpheus and Eurydice.

See Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, Boston, 1890.

=Illustrative. Orpheus=: Shakespeare, Two Gentlemen of Verona, III, ii; Merchant of Venice, V, i; Henry VIII, III, i (song); Milton, Lycidas, 58; L'Allegro, 145; Il Penseroso, 105; Pope, Ode on St. Cecilia's Day (Eurydice); Summer, 81; Southey, Thalaba (The Nightingale's Song over the Grave of Orpheus).

=Poems.= Wordsworth, The Power of Music; Shelley, Orpheus, a fragment; Browning, Eurydice and Orpheus; Wm. Morris, Orpheus and the Sirens (Life and Death of Jason); L. Morris, Orpheus, Eurydice (Epic of Hades); Lowell, Eurydice; E. Dowden, Eurydice; W.B. Scott, Eurydice; E.W. Gosse, The Waking of Eurydice; R. Buchanan, Orpheus, the Musician; J.G. Saxe, Travesty of Orpheus and Eurydice. On =Tantalus= and =Sisyphus=, see Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 5, 31-35; L. Morris, Epic of Hades.

=In Art.= A Relief on a tombstone in the National Museum, Naples, of Mercury, Orpheus, and Eurydice. There is also a copy in Paris of the marble in the Villa Albani, Rome. (See Fig. 94, text.) Paintings: Fig. 93, in text, by Sir Frederick Leighton; by Robert Beyschlag; by G.F. Watts; The Story of Orpheus, a series of ten paintings, by E. Burne-Jones.

=119-120. Textual. Troy=: the capital of Troas in Asia Minor, situated between the rivers Scamander and Simois. Famous for the siege conducted by the Greeks under Agamemnon, Menelaüs, etc. (See Chap. XXII.) =Amymone=: a fountain of Argolis. =Enipeus=: a river of Macedonia.

=Interpretative.= The monsters that wreak the vengeance of Neptune are, of course, his destructive storms and lashing waves.

=121.= For genealogy of Pelops, etc., see Tables F and I. For the misfortunes of the Pelopidæ, see =193=.

=Illustrative in Art.= Pelops and Hippodamia; vase pictures (Monuments inédits, Rome, and Paris). East pediment, Temple of Zeus, Olympia.

=123-124. Textual. Cephalus=, the son of Mercury (Hermes) and Herse, is irretrievably confounded with Cephalus, the son of Deïon and grandson of Æolus I. The former should, strictly, be regarded as the lover of Aurora (Eos); the latter is the husband of Procris, and the great-grandfather of Ulysses. (See Tables H, I, and O (4).)

=Interpretative. Procris= is the dewdrop (from Greek Pr[=o]x, 'dew') which reflects the shining rays of the sun. The "head of the day," or the rising sun, Cephalus, is also wooed by Aurora, the Dawn, but flies from her. The Sun slays the dew with the same gleaming darts that the dew reflects, or gives back to him. According to Preller, Cephalus is the morning-star beloved alike by Procris, the moon, and by Aurora, the dawn. The concealment of Procris in the forest and her death would, then, signify the paling of the moon before the approaching day. Hardly so probable as the former explanation.

=Illustrative. Aurora=: Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 2, 7; 1, 4, 16; Shakespeare, Midsummer Night's Dream, III, ii; Romeo and Juliet, I, i; Milton, Paradise Lost, 5, 6, "Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing," etc.; L'Allegro, 19; Landor, Gebir, "Now to Aurora borne by dappled steeds, The sacred gates of orient pearl and gold... Expanded slow," etc. =Cephalus= and =Procris=: in Moore, Legendary Ballads; Shakespeare, Midsummer Night's Dream, "Shafalus and Procrus"; A. Dobson, The Death of Procris.

=In Art. Aurora=: Figs. 97 and 99, as in text; paintings, by Guido Reni, as Fig. 98 in text, and by J.L. Hamon, and Guercino. Procris and Cephalus, by Turner. L'Aurore et Céphale, painted by P. Guérin, 1810, engraved by F. Forster, 1821.

=125. Textual. Cimmerian= country: a fabulous land in the far west, near Hades; or, perhaps, in the north, for the people dwell by the ocean that is never visited by sunlight (Odyssey, 11, 14-19). Other sons of Somnus are =Icelus=, who personates birds, beasts, and serpents, and =Phantasus=, who assumes the forms of rocks, streams, and other inanimate things.

The accompanying table will indicate the connections and descendants of Aurora.

=Interpretative.= According to one account, =Ceyx= and =Halcyone=, by likening their wedded happiness to that of Jupiter and Juno, incurred the displeasure of the gods. The myth springs from observation of the habits of the Halcyone-bird, which nests on the strand and is frequently bereft of its young by the winter waves. The comparison with the glory of Jupiter and Juno is suggested by the splendid iris hues of the birds. Halcyone days have become proverbial as seasons of calm. =Æolus I=, the son of Hellen, is here identified with =Æolus III=, the king of the winds. According to Diodorus, the latter is a descendant, in the fifth generation, of the former. (See Genealogical Table I.)

=Illustrative.= Chaucer, The Dethe of Blaunche; E. W. Gosse, Alcyone (a sonnet in dialogue); F. Tennyson, Halcyone; Edith M. Thomas, The Kingfisher; Margaret J. Preston, Alcyone. =Morpheus=: see Milton, Il Penseroso; Pope, Ode on St. Cecilia's Day.

=126-127. Interpretative. Tithonus= may be the day in its ever-recurring circuit of morning freshness, noon heat, final withering and decay (Preller); or the gray glimmer of the heavens overspread by the first ruddy flush of morning (Welcker); or, as a solar myth, the sun in his setting and waning,--Tithonus meaning, by derivation, the illuminator (Max Müller). The sleep of Tithonus in his ocean-bed, and his transformation into a grasshopper, would then typify the presumable weariness and weakness of the sun at night.

=Illustrative.= Spenser, Epithalamion; Faerie Queene, 1, 11, 51.

=128. Textual. Mysia=: province of Asia Minor, south of the Propontis, or Sea of Marmora. There is some doubt about the identification of the existing statue with that described by the ancients, and the mysterious sounds are still more doubtful. Yet there is not wanting modern testimony to their being still audible. It has been suggested that sounds produced by confined air making its escape from crevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some ground for the story. Sir Gardner Wilkinson, a traveler of the highest authority, examined the statue itself, and discovered that it was hollow, and that "in the lap of the statue is a stone, which, on being struck, emits a metallic sound that might still be made use of to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe its powers."

TABLE H. THE ANCIENT RACE OF LUMINARIES AND WINDS

=Hyperion= ==Thea= +-- Helios | =Perseïs | +-- Æetes | | =Hecate | | +-- Medea | | +-- Absyrtus | +-- Circe +-- Selene (Diana) | =Endymion +-- =Eos (Aurora)= =Astræus +-- Zephyrus W. Winds +-- Boreas N. " +-- Notus S. " +-- Eurus E. " ==Cephalus= +-- Phosphor (Morning Star) +-- =Ceyx= ==Halcyone= ==Tithonus= +-- =Memnon=

Hermes =Herse +-- =Cephalus= ==Eos (Aurora)= +-- Phosphor (Morning Star) (see above)

Æolus I +-- =Halcyone= ==Ceyx=

=Interpretative. Memnon= is generally represented as of dark features, lighted with the animation of glorious youth. He is king of the mythical Æthiopians who lived in the land of gloaming, where east and west met, and whose name signifies "dark splendor." His birth in this borderland of light and darkness signifies either his existence as king of an eastern land or his identity with the young sun, and strengthens the theory according to which his father Tithonus is the gray glimmer of the morning heavens. The flocks of birds have been explained as the glowing clouds that meet in battle over the body of the dead sun.

=Illustrative.= Milton, Il Penseroso; Drummond, Summons to Love, "Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed"; Akenside, Pleasures of the Imagination (analogy between Memnonian music and spiritual appreciation of truth); Landor, Miscellaneous Poems, 59, "Exposed and lonely genius stands, Like Memnon in the Egyptian sands," etc.

=In Art.= Fig. 101, from a vase in the Louvre.

=129-130. Textual. Doric pillar=: the three styles of pillars in Greek architecture were Dorian, Ionic, Corinthian (see English Dictionary). =Trinacria=: Sicily, from its three promontories. =Ægon= and =Daphnis=: idyllic names of Sicilian shepherds (see Idyls of Theocritus and Virgil's Eclogues). =Naïs=: a water-nymph. For Cyclops, Galatea, Silenus, Fauns, Arethusa, see Index. Compare, with the conception of Stedman's poem, Wordsworth's Power of Music.

=Illustrative.= Ben Jonson, =Pan's= anniversary; Milton, Paradise Lost, 4. 266, 707; Paradise Regained, 2, 190; Comus, 176, 268; Pope, Autumn, 81; Windsor Forest, 37, 183; Summer, 50; Dunciad, 3, 110; Akenside, Pleasures of Imagination, "Fair Tempe! haunt beloved of sylvan Powers," etc.; On Leaving Holland, 1, 2. =Poems=: Fletcher, Song of the Priest of Pan, and Song of Pan (in The Faithful Shepherdess); Landor, Pan and Pitys, "Pan led me to a wood the other day," etc.; Landor, Cupid and Pan; R. Buchanan, Pan; Browning, Pan and Luna; Swinburne, Pan and Thalassius; Hon. Roden Noël, Pan, in the Modern Faust. Of course Mrs. Browning's Dead Pan cannot be appreciated unless read as a whole; nor Schiller's Gods of Greece.

=131. Fauns.= Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 708; 10. 573, 597; 11. 472, 788; Paradise Regained, 2, 257; Mrs. Browning, Flush or Faunus (sonnet). =Dryads=: Pope, Moral Essays, 4, 94; Winter, 12; Collins, The Passions; Keats, Nightingale, Psyche. =Satyrs=: Milton, Lycidas; Dryden, Mrs. Anne Killigrew, 6; Hawthorne, Marble Faun.

=In Art. Fauns= (sculpture): The Barberini Faun (Munich); the Drunken Faun, Sleeping Faun, Faun and Bacchus, and Dancing Faun (National Museum, Naples); the Dancing Faun (Lateran, Rome); the so-called Faun of Praxiteles or Marble Faun (Fig. 106 in text--a Satyr--best copy in the Capitoline, Rome). =Pan= and =Apollo=: Græco-Roman sculpture (Museum, Naples). =Pan=: Fig. 102, in text; and Fig. 103, from an original perhaps of the School of Scopas or Praxiteles (Florence). Silenus and Bacchus (Glyptothek, Munich). =Nymphs= (pictures): Bouguereau, Nymphs and Satyr, and Nymphs; Burne-Jones, Nymphs; Giorgione, Nymphs pursued by a Satyr. =Satyrs=: Michelangelo (picture) (Uffizi, Florence), Mask of a Satyr; Rubens, Satyrs (Munich); Satyrs (sculpture), relief from theater of Dionysus; Satyr playing a flute (Vatican); and Figs. 103, 104, and 106-108 in the text.

=132-133. Textual. Cephissus=: four rivers in Phocis, Attica, and Argolis bear this name. The most famous runs near Athens.

=Illustrative. Echo=: Chaucer, Romaunt of the Rose, 1468 et seq.; Spenser, Prothalamion; Milton, Comus, 237; Collins, The Passions. =Poems=: L. Morris (Epic of Hades), Narcissus; Goldsmith, On a Beautiful Youth, etc.; Cowper, On an Ugly Fellow; Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 449-470 (illus.); and Comus. =In Art=: Narcissus (sculpture), and Fig. 109, in text (Museum, Naples).

=137. Dryope= (poem), by W. S. Landor.

=138. Rh[oe]cus.= Poems by Landor, The Hamadryad; Acon and Rhodope.

=139. Pomona.= Phillips, a poem on Cider. See Index. =In Art=: the painting by J. E. Millais.

=Interpretative.= The various guises and transformations of Vertumnus signify the succession of the seasons and the changing characteristics of each. The name itself implies turning, or change.

=140. Textual.= In order to understand the story of Ibycus, it is necessary to remember, first, that the theaters of the ancients were immense fabrics, capable of containing from ten to thirty thousand spectators, and as they were used only on festal occasions and admission was free to all, they were usually filled. They were without roofs and open to the sky, and performances were in the daytime. Secondly, that the appalling representation of the Furies is not exaggerated in the story. It is fabled that Æschylus, the tragic poet, having on one occasion represented the Furies in a chorus of fifty performers, the terror of the spectators was such that many fainted and were thrown into convulsions, and the magistrates forbade a like representation for the future (Pollux, 4, 110). Usually the chorus in a single tragedy consisted of only fifteen performers.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

=Illustrative.= On the =Furies= see =C. 49=. On =Ibycus= see translation of Schiller's Cranes of Ibycus, by E. A. Bowring.

=141. Textual.= The adventures of the water-divinities turn largely on the idea of metamorphosis, which would readily be suggested to the imaginative mind by contemplation of the ever-changing aspect of fountain, stream, lake, or ocean. For genealogies of water-deities, see Table C.

=Interpretative.= The Cyclops, =Polyphemus=, does not possess much in common with Steropes, Brontes, and Arges, the offspring of Uranus and Gæa, save his one eye and his monstrous size. The sons of Gæa are personifications of thunder and lightning; Polyphemus is the heavy vapor that rolls its clouds along the hillside. The clouds are the sheep that he pastures; the sun glowering through the vapor is his single eye (Cox). More probably he is a mere giant of folklore.

=Illustrative.= John Gay, Song of Polypheme (in Acis and Galatea); A. Dobson, A Tale of Polypheme; R. Buchanan, Polypheme's Passion; Shelley, The Cyclops of Euripides; Translations of Theocritus by Mrs. Browning and by Calverley; J. S. Blackie, Galatea; B. W. Procter, The Death of Acis. See also on the =Cyclops=, Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus, IV, iii; Hamlet, II, ii.

=In Art.= Fig. 112, text; Carracci's frescoes in the Farnese Palace, Rome, of Polyphemus, Acis and Galatea; Claude Lorrain's painting, Evening, Acis and Galatea; Raphael's Triumph of Galatea.

=142. Textual.= For descent of Glaucus, see Tables G and I. For Scylla's descent, see Table C. See Keats, Endymion, Bk. 3.

=Interpretative.= Glaucus is explained by some as the calm gleaming sea; by others, as the angry sea that reflects the lowering heavens (see Roscher, p. 1690). Scylla is a personification of treacherous currents and shallows among jagged cliffs and hidden rocks.

=144.= For genealogy of Ino, see Table E. "Leucothea waked, and with fresh dews embalmed The Earth" (Milton, Paradise Lost, 11, 135).

=145. Cyrene= was sister to Daphne. Honey must first have been known as a wild product, the bees building their structures in hollow trees, or holes in the rocks, or any similar cavity that chance offered. Thus occasionally the carcass of a dead animal would be occupied by the bees for that purpose. It was no doubt from some such incident that the superstition arose that bees were engendered by the decaying flesh of the animal. Virgil assigns to Proteus the isle of Carpathus, between Crete and Rhodes; Homer, the isle of Pharus, near the river Nile.

=Illustrative.= See =C. 50=. Proteus, a poem by R. Buchanan. On =Aristæus=, Cowper's Task, comparison of the ice-palace of Empress Anne of Russia with Cyrene's palace. Milton probably thought of Cyrene in describing Sabrina (Comus). He calls Proteus "the Carpathian Wizard."

=146-147. Textual. Acheloüs=: the largest river in Greece, rose in Mount Lacmon, flowed between Acarnania and Ætolia, and emptied into the Ionian Sea. It was honored over all Greece. =Calydon=: a city of Ætolia, famed for the Calydonian Hunt. =Parthenope=, see =238. Ligea= (Ligeia): the shrill-sounding maiden; here a Siren; sometimes a Dryad.

= Even among the ancients such stories as this were explained on a physical basis: the river Acheloüs flows through the realm of Dejanira, hence Acheloüs loves Dejanira. When the river winds it is a snake, when it roars it is a bull, when it overflows its banks it puts forth new horns. Hercules is supposed to have regulated the course of the stream by confining it within a new and suitable channel. At the same time the old channel, redeemed from the stream, subjected to cultivation, and blossoming with flowers, might well be called a horn of plenty_. There is another account of the origin of the Cornucopia. Jupiter at his birth was committed by his mother Rhea to the care of the daughters of Melisseus, a Cretan king. They fed the infant deity with the milk of the goat Amalthea.

Jupiter, breaking off one of the horns of the goat, gave it to his nurses, and endowed it with the power of becoming filled with whatever the possessor might wish.

=148.= (5)

TABLE I. THE RACE OF IAPETUS, DEUCALION, ATLAS, AND HELLEN

=Uranus= =Gæa +-- =Iapetus= +-- =Epimethius= | ==Pandora= | +-- =Pyrrha= | =Deucalion | +-- =Hellen= | +-- =Æolus I= | | +-- Calyce | | | +-- =Endymion= | | | +-- Eurycyde | | | | +-- Eleüs | | | | +-- =Augeas= | | | +-- =Ætolus= | | | +-- Calydon | | | | +-- Epicaste | | | | =Agenor | | | | +-- Demonice | | | | | =Mars | | | | | +-- Thestius | | | | | +-- Hypermnestra | | | | | | =Oïcles | | | | | | +-- =Amphiaraüs= | | | | | | ==Eriphyle= | | | | | | +-- =Alcmæon= | | | | | | | =Arsinoë | | | | | | +--Amphilochus | | | | | +-- =Althæa= | | | | | | ==[OE]neus= | | | | | | +-- =Meleager= | | | | | | +-- =Dejanira= | | | | | | =Hercules | | | | | | +-- Hyllus | | | | | +-- =Leda= | | | | | | ==Tyndareus= | | | | | | +-- =Castor= | | | | | | +-- =Clytemnestra= | | | | | | ==Agamemnon= | | | | | | =Jove | | | | | | +-- =Pollux= | | | | | | +-- =Helen= | | | | | | =Paris | | | | | +-- Plexippus | | | | | +-- Toxeus (?) | | | | +-- Porthaon | | | | +-- Agrius | | | | | +-- Melanippus | | | | | +-- Thersites | | | | +-- =[OE]neus= | | | | =Perib[oe]a | | | | +-- =Tydeus= | | | | +-- =Diomedes= | | | | ==Althæa= | | | | +-- =Meleager= | | | | | (see above) | | | | +-- =Dejanira= | | | | (see above) | | | +-- Pleuron | | | +-- Agenor | | | =Epicaste | | | +-- Demonice (see above) | | | +-- Porthaon (see above) | | +-- =Alcyone= | | | ==Ceyx= | | +-- Canace | | | =Neptune | | | +-- Al[oe]us | | | =Iphimedia | | | +-- =Otus= | | | +-- =Ephialtes= | | +-- Perieres | | | +-- Icarius | | | | +-- =Penelope= | | | | ==Ulysses= | | | | +-- =Telemachus= | | | +-- =Tyndareus= | | | ==Leda= | | | +-- =Castor= (see above) | | | +-- =Clytemnestra= (see above) | | +-- Mimas | | | +-- Hippotes | | | +-- Æolus II | | | +-- Arne | | | =Neptune | | | +-- =Æolus III= | | | | (King of the Winds) | | | +-- 6 sons | | | +-- 6 daughters | | +-- Magnes | | | +-- Dictys | | | +-- Polydectes | | +-- Deïon | | | +-- =Cephalus= | | | | =Procris | | | | +-- Arcesius | | | | +-- Laërtes | | | | +-- =Ulysses= | | | | ==Penelope= | | | | +-- =Telemachus= (see above) | | | +-- Actor | | | +-- Men[oe]tius | | | +-- =Patroclus= | | +-- =Athamas= | | | =Nephele | | | +-- =Helle= | | | +-- =Phryxus= | | |

=Ino | | | +-- =Melicertes= | | | =Themisto | | | +-- Sch[oe]neus of B[oe]tia | | | +-- =Atalanta= | | | =Hippomenes | | +-- =Sisyphus= | | | ==Merope= | | | +-- =Glaucus= | | | +-- =Bellerophon= | | | +-- Hippolochus | | | | +-- Glaucus (Iliad, 6, 155) | | | +-- Laodamia | | | =Jove | | | +-- =Sarpedon= | | +-- Salmoneus | | | +-- Tyro | | | =Neptune | | | +-- Neleus | | | | +-- =Nestor= | | | | | +-- Antilochus | | | | +-- Pero | | | | ==Bias= | | | | +-- Talaüs | | | | +-- =Adrastus= | | | | +-- =Eriphyle= | | | | ==Amphiaraüs= | | | | +-- =Alcmæon= (see above) | | | | +-- Amphilochus | | | | (see above) | | | +-- =Pelias= | | | +-- Evadne | | | +-- Acastus | | | | +-- =Laodamia= | | | | =Protesilaüs | | | +-- =Alcestis= | | | ==Admetus= | | | =Cretheus | | | +-- Pheres | | | | +-- =Admetus= | | | | ==Alcestis= | | | +-- Æson | | | | +-- =Jason= | | | +-- Amythaon | | | +-- =Bias= | | | | =Pero | | | | +-- Talaüs (see above) | | | +-- =Melampus= (the Prophet) | | | +-- Antiphates | | | +-- Oïcles | | | =Hypermnestra | | | +-- =Amphiaraüs= | | | (see above) | | +-- Cretheus | | =Tyro | | +-- Pheres (see above) | | +-- Æson (see above) | | +-- Amythaon (see above) | +-- Xuthus | | +-- Diomede | | +-- Achæus | | +-- Ion | +-- Dorus | +-- Tectamus +-- Prometheus | =Clymene | +-- Deucalion | ==Pyrrha= | +-- =Hellen= (see above) +-- Men[oe]tius +-- =Atlas= =Pleione +-- =Merope= | ==Sisyphus= | +-- =Glaucus= (see above) +-- Sterope II | =Mars | +-- =[OE]nomaüs= | +-- =Hippodamia= | =Pelops | +-- =Atreus= | | =Aërope | | +-- =Agamemnon= | | | ==Clytemnestra= | | +-- =Menelaüs= | | =Helen | +-- Thyestes | | +-- Ægisthus | +-- Pittheus | +-- Æthra | +-- =Theseus= +-- Electra | =Jove | +-- =Dardanus= | +-- Ilus I | +-- Erichthonius | +-- Tros | +-- Ilus II | +-- =Laomedon= | +-- =Priam= +-- The other =Pleiades= =Æthra +-- =The Hyades= =Hesperis +-- =The Hesperides= =Sterope I +-- =Maia= =Jove +-- Mercury

=Illustrative.= The name Amalthea is given also to the mother of Bacchus. It is thus used by Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 275:

That Nyseian isle, Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham, Whom Gentiles Ammon call and Libyan Jove, Hid Amalthea, and her florid son, Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye.

See also Milton, Paradise Regained, 2, 356.

=148.= For the general genealogy of the race of Inachus, see Table D. For the general race of Iapetus, Deucalion, Hellen, Æolus, Ætolus, etc., see below, Table I (based in part on the table given in Roscher, article Deukalion). For the descendants of Agenor, see Table E. For the houses of Minos and of Labdacus, see Tables L and N. For the descendants of Belus (house of Danaüs), see Tables I and J; of Cecrops and Erechtheus, Table M.

(1) =The race of Inachus= | +--------------------------+----------------------+ | | | The descendants of Pelasgus, of Belus, of Agenor | | House of Danaüs Houses of Minos and Labdacus

(2) =The race of Deucalion= (Table G), and of his son, Hellen | The descendants of Æolus, of Dorus, of Xuthus, | | | (Achæans and Ionians) The descendants of Endymion, Perieres, Deïon, Sisyphus, Cretheus, Athamas

(3) =The descendants of Ætolus=, son of Endymion (Table K) | Houses of Porthaon and Thestius

(4) =The race of Cecrops= | The descendants of Erichthonius | House of Pandion and Ægeus

=149-154. Textual. Seriphus=: an island of the Ægean.

The House of Danaüs is as follows:

TABLE J. THE HOUSE OF DANAÜS

=Inachus= +-- Io =Jupiter +-- Epaphus +-- Libya =Poseidon (Neptune) +-- Agenor | +-- Cadmus | +-- Europa +-- Belus of Egypt +-- Ægyptus | +-- 49 other sons | +-- Lynceus | =Hypermnestra | +-- Abas | +-- Acrisius | +-- =Danaë= | =Jupiter | +-- =Perseus= | ==Andromeda= | +-- Perses | +-- Electryon | | +-- =Alcmene= | | =Jupiter | | +-- =Hercules= | | ==Amphitryon= | | +-- Iphicles | +-- Alcæus | +-- =Amphitryon= | ==Alcmene= | +-- Iphicles | (see above) +-- =Danaüs= | +-- Hypermnestra | | =Lynceus | | +-- Abas (see above) | +-- 49 other drs. +-- Cepheus =Cassiopea +-- =Andromeda= ==Perseus= +-- Perses (see above) +-- Electryon (see above) +-- Alcæus (see above)

= While =Danaüs= is, in fact, a native mythical hero of Argos, the story of his arrival from Egypt is probably an attempt to explain the influence of Egyptian civilization on the Greeks. The name Danaüs means drought, and may refer to the frequently dry condition of the soil of Argos. The fifty daughters of Danaüs would then be the nymphs of the many springs_ which in season refresh the land of Argolis. Their suitors, the fifty sons of Ægyptus, would be the streams of Argolis that in the rainy months threaten to overflow their banks. But the springs by vanishing during the hot weather deprive the streams of water and consequently of life. That is to say, when the sources (Danaïds) choose to stop supplies, the heads of the streams (the fifty youths of Argolis) are cut off. The reference to Ægyptus and the sons of Ægyptus would indicate a reminiscence of the Nile and its tributaries, alternately overflowing and exhausted.

The unsuccessful toil of the Danaïds in Tartarus may have been suggested by the sandy nature of the Argive soil, and the leaky nature of the springs, now high, now low. Or it may typify, simply, any incessant, fruitless labor. [428] Advocates of the last theory would understand the voyage of Danaë and Perseus as the tossing of the sunbeams on the waters of the eastern horizon. The young Sun would next overcome the =Gray-women=, forms of the gloaming, and then slay with his sword of light the black cloud of the heavenly vault, the =Gorgon=, whose aspect is night and death.

The =Grææ= and the Gorgons may, with greater probability, be taken as personifications of the hidden horrors of the unknown night-enveloped ocean and the misty horizon whence storms come. In that case the Grææ will be the gray clouds, and their one tooth (or one eye) the harmless gleam of the lightning; the Gorgons will be the heavy thunderclouds, and their petrifying gaze the swift and fatal lightning flash.

But there are still others who find in the Gorgon =Medusa= the wan visage of the moon, empress of the night, slain by the splendor of morning. The sandals of Hermes have, accordingly, been explained as the morning breeze, or even as the chariot of the sun. The invisible helmet may be the clouds under which the sun disappears. Compare the cloak of darkness in the Three Daughters of King O'Hara; and the Sword of Sharpness in the Weaver's Son and the Giant of White Hill (Curtin, Myths of Ireland).

=Andromeda= is variously deciphered: the tender dawn, which a storm-cloud would obscure and devour; the moon, which darkness, as a dragon, threatens to swallow; or some historic character that has passed into myth. Compare the contests of Perseus and the Dragon, Apollo and Pytho, Hercules and the Serpents, Cadmus and the Dragon of Mars, St. George and the Dragon, Siegfried and the Worm (Fafnir). For a Gaelic Andromeda and Perseus, see The Thirteenth Son of the King of Erin (Curtin, Myths of Ireland).

Perseus' flight to the =Gardens of the Hesperides= suggests, naturally, the circuit of the sun toward the flushing western horizon; and, of course, he would here behold the giant =Atlas=, who, stationed where heaven and earth meet, sustains on his shoulders the celestial vault.

The =Doom of Acrisius= reminds one of that of Hyacinthus. The quoit suggests the rays of the sun, and the name Acrisius may be construed to mean the "confused or gloomy heavens" (Roscher, Preller, Müller, etc.).

=Illustrative.= "The starred Æthiope queen": Cassiopea (Cassiepea, or Cassiope) became a constellation. The sea-nymphs, however, had her placed in a part of the heavens near the pole, where she is half the time held with her head downward to teach her humility.

=Danaë.= Tennyson, Princess, "Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me." Translations of Simonides' Lament of Danaë, by W. C. Bryant and by J. H. Frere. =Danaïd=: Chaucer, Legende of Good Women, 2561 (Hypermnestra and Lynceus).

=Gorgons= and =Medusa=. Spenser, Epithalamion, "And stand astonished like to those which read Medusa's mazeful head"; Milton, Paradise Lost, 2. 611, 628; Comus (on Ægis and Gorgon); Drummond, The Statue of Medusa; Gray, Hymn to Adversity; Armstrong, The Art of Preserving Health; D. G. Rossetti, Aspecta Medusa; L. Morris, in The Epic of Hades; Thomas Gordon Hake, The Infant Medusa (a sonnet); E. Lee-Hamilton, The New Medusa; Lady Charlotte Elliot, Medusa.

=Andromeda.= Milton, Paradise Lost, 3, 559 (the constellation); L. Morris in The Epic of Hades; W. Morris, Doom of King Acrisius; E. Dowden, Andromeda (The Heroines).

=Atlas.= Shakespeare, 3 Henry VI, 5, 1; Milton, Paradise Lost, 4, 987; 11, 402, comparison of Satan and Atlas.

=In Art.= Fig. 116, in text: vase in the Hermitage, St. Petersburg. Titian's painting, Danaë and the Shower of Gold; Correggio's Danaë. Ancient sculpture: a Danaïd in the Vatican; the Danaïds on an altar in the Vatican (Fig. 115, in text).

=Perseus and Andromeda.= Figs. 119-121, and opp. p. 212, in text; painting by Rubens (Berlin). Sculpture: Benvenuto Cellini's Perseus (Loggia de' Lanzi, Florence), and Perseus saving Andromeda; Canova's Perseus (Vatican).

=Medusa.= Græco-Roman sculpture: Head of Dying Medusa (Villa Ludovisi, Rome); the beautiful Medusa Rondanini in the Glyptothek, Munich (Figs. 117 and 118, text); numerous illustrations of abhorrent Gorgons in Roscher, p. 1707 et seq., from vases, seals, marbles, etc.

=Modern Painting.= Leonardo da Vinci, Head of Medusa.

=155. Textual.= The descent of Bellerophon is as follows. (See also Table I.)

Deucalion = Pyrrha | Hellen | Æolus I Atlas | | Sisyphus = Merope (Pleiad) | Glaucus | Bellerophon

=Lycia=: in Asia Minor. The fountain =Hippocrene=, on the Muses' mountain, Helicon, was opened by a kick from the hoof of Pegasus. This horse belongs to the Muses, and has from time immemorial been ridden by the poets. From the story of Bellerophon being unconsciously the bearer of his own death-warrant, the expression "=Bellerophontic letters=" arose, to describe any species of communication which a person is made the bearer of, containing matter prejudicial to himself. =Aleian field=: a district in Cilicia (Asia Minor).

=Interpretative. Bellerophon= is either "he who appears in the clouds," or "he who slays the cloudy monster." In either sense we have another sun-myth and sun-hero. He is the son of Glaucus, who, whether he be descended from Sisyphus or from Neptune, is undoubtedly a sea-god. His horse, sprung from Medusa, the thundercloud, when she falls under the sword of the sun, is =Pegasus=, the rain-cloud. In his contest with the =Chimæra= we have a repetition of the combat of Perseus and the sea monster. Bellerophon is a heavenly knight errant who slays the powers of storm and darkness. The earth, struck by his horse's hoof, bubbles into springs (Rapp in Roscher, and Max Müller). At the end of the day, falling from heaven, this knight of the sun walks in melancholy the pale fields of the twilight.

=Illustrative.= Wm. Morris, Bellerophon in Argos and in Lycia (Earthly Paradise); Longfellow, Pegasus in Pound; Bowring's translation of Schiller's Pegasus in Harness. Milton (=Bellerophon and Pegasus=), Paradise Lost, 7, 1; Spenser, "Then whoso will with virtuous wing assay To mount to heaven, on Pegasus must ride, And with sweet Poet's verse be glorified"; also Faerie Queene, 1, 9, 21; Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew, IV, iv; 1 Henry IV, IV, i; Henry V, III, vii; Pope, Essay on Criticism, 150; Dunciad, 3, 162; Burns, To John Taylor; Young's Night Thoughts, Vol. 2 (on Bellerophontic letters). =Hippocrene=: Keats, To a Nightingale.

=In Art.= Bellerophon and Pegasus, vase picture (Monuments inédits, etc., Rome and Paris, 1839-1874); ancient relief, Fig. 122, in text.

=156-162.= For genealogy of Hercules, see Table J. =Rhadamanthus=: brother of Minos. (See Index.) =Thespiæ= and =Orchomenos=: towns of B[oe]otia. =Nemea=: in Argolis, near Mycenæ. =Stymphalian= lake: in Arcadia.

= The chosen device of Charles V of Germany represented the Pillars of Hercules entwined by a scroll that bore his motto, "Plus Ultra" (still farther). Dollar, by the way, means coin of the valley,--German Thal. =Hesperides=: the western sky at sunset. The apples may have been suggested by stories of the oranges of Spain. The =Cacus= myth is thoroughly latinized, but of Greek origin. =Mysia=: province of Asia Minor, north of Lydia. The river =Phasis= flows through Colchis into the Euxine. =Pylos=: it is doubtful what city is intended. There were two such towns in Elis, and one in Messenia. The word means gate (see Iliad, 5, 397), and in the case of Hercules there may be some reference to his journey to the gate or Pylos of Hades. =Mount= =[OE]ta=: in Thessaly. The =Pygmies=: a nation of dwarfs, so called from a Greek word meaning the cubit, or measure of about thirteen inches, which was said to be the height of these people.

They lived near the sources of the Nile, or, according to others, in India. Homer tells us that the cranes used to migrate every winter to the Pygmies' country, where, attacking the cornfields, they precipitated war. H. M. Stanley, in his last African expedition, discovered a race of diminutive men that correspond fairly in appearance with those mentioned by Homer. The =Cercopes=: the subject of a comic poem by Homer, and of numerous grotesque representations in Greek literature and sculpture.

_= All myths of the sun represent that luminary as struggling against and overcoming monsters, or performing other laborious tasks in obedience to the orders of some tyrant of inferior spirit, but of legal authority. Since the life of Hercules is composed of such tasks, it is easy to class him with other sun-heroes. But to construe his whole history and all his feats as symbolic of the sun's progress through the heavens, beginning with the labors performed in his eastern home and ending with the capture of Cerberus in the underworld beyond the west, or to construe the subjects of the twelve labors as consciously recalling the twelve signs of the Zodiac is not only unwarranted, but absurd. To some extent Hercules is a sun-hero; to some extent his adventures are fabulous history; to a greater extent both he and his adventures are the product of generations of æsthetic, but primitive and fanciful, invention.

The same statement holds true of nearly all the heroes and heroic deeds of mythology. As a matter of interest, it may be noted that the serpents that attacked Hercules in his cradle are explained as powers of darkness which the sun destroys, and the cattle that he tended, as the clouds of morning. His choice between pleasure and duty at the outset of his career enforces, of course, a lesson of conduct. His lion's skin may denote the tawny cloud which the sun trails behind him as he fights his way through the vapors that he overcomes (Cox). The slaughter of the Centaurs may be the dissipation of these vapors. His insanity may denote the raging heat of the sun at noonday. The Nemean lion may be a monster of cloud or darkness; the Hydra, a cloud that confines the kindly rains, or at times covers the heavens with numerous necks and heads of vapor.

The Cerynean Stag may be a golden-tinted cloud that the sun chases; and the Cattle of the Augean stables, clouds that, refusing to burst in rain, consign the earth to drought and filth. The Erymanthian boar and the Cretan bull are probably varied forms of the powers of darkness; so also the Stamphalian (Stymphalian) birds and the giant Cacus. Finally, the scene of the hero's death is a "picture of a sunset in wild confusion, the multitude of clouds hurrying hither and thither, now hiding, now revealing the mangled body of the sun." In this way Cox, and other interpreters of myth, would explain the series. But while the explanations are entertaining and poetic, their very plausibility should suggest caution in accepting them. It is not safe to construe all the details of a mythical career in terms of any one theory.

The more noble side of the character of Hercules presents itself to the moral understanding, as worthy of consideration and admiration. The dramatist Euripides has portrayed him as a great-hearted hero, high-spirited and jovial, rejoicing in the vigor of manhood, comforting the downcast, wrestling with Death and overcoming him, restoring happiness where sorrow had obtained. No grander conception of manliness has in modern times found expression in poetry than that of the Hercules in Browning's transcript of Euripides, Balaustion's Adventure.

=Illustrative.= Lang's translation of the Lityerses song (Theocritus, Idyl X). The song, like the Linus song, is of early origin among the laborers in the field. For =Hercules=, see Sir Philip Sidney, Astrophel and Stella; Spenser, Faerie Queene, 1, 11, 27; Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, II, i; III, ii; Taming of the Shrew, I, ii; Coriolanus, IV, i; Hamlet, I, ii; Much Ado About Nothing, II, i; III, iii; King John, II, i; Titus Andronicus, IV, ii; Antony and Cleopatra, IV, x; 1 Henry VI, IV, vii; Pope, Satires, 5, 17; Milton, Paradise Lost, 11, 410 (Geryon). =Amazons=: Shakespeare, King John, V, ii; Midsummer Night's Dream, II, ii; 1 Henry VI, I, iv; 3 Henry VI, I, iv; Pope, Rape of the Lock, 3, 67; =Hylas=: Pope, Autumn; Dunciad, 2, 336.

_= S. Rogers, on the Torso of Hercules; Browning, Balaustion's Adventure, and Aristophanes' Apology; L. Morris, Dejaneira (Epic of Hades); William Morris, The Golden Apples (Earthly Paradise); J. H. Frere's translation of Euripides' Hercules Furens, and Plumptre's, or R. =Dejanira=: Fragment of Chorus of a "Dejaneira," by M. ; Bayard Taylor, Hylas; R. C. Rogers, Hylas; translation of Theocritus, Idyl XIII, by C. S. =Daphnis=: Theocritus, Idyl I. According to this, Daphnis so loves Naïs that he defies Aphrodite to make him love again. She does so, but he fights against the new passion, and dies a victim of the implacable goddess. This song is sung by Thyrsis. Also on Daphnis, read E. Gosse's poem, The Gifts of the Muses.

=In Art.= Fig. 65, of a statue reproducing the style of Scopas; figs. 123-129, and opp. p. 226, in text; Heracles in the eastern pediment of the Parthenon (?); the Torso Belvedere; Farnese Hercules (National Museum, Naples); Hercules in the metopes of the Temple of Silenus (Museum, Palermo); the Infant Hercules strangling a Serpent (antique sculpture), in the Uffizi at Florence; C. G. Gleyre's painting, Hercules at the Feet of Omphale (Louvre); Bandinelli (sculpture), Hercules and Cacus; Giovanni di Bologna (sculpture), Hercules and Centaur; Amazon (ancient sculpture), in the Vatican; and Figs. 162, 185 and opp. p. 306, in text; Centaur (sculpture), Capitol, Rome; the Mad Heracles, vase picture (Monuments inédits, Rome and Paris, 1839-1878).

=163-167.= For the descent of Jason from Deucalion, see Table G. =Iolcos=: a town in Thessaly. =Lemnos=: in the Ægean, near Tenedos. =Phineus=: a son of Agenor, or of Poseidon. For the family of Medea, see Table H.

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

Argo= means swift, or white_, or commemorates the ship-builder, or the city of Argos. The Argo-myth rests on a mixture of traditions of the earliest seafaring and of the course of certain physical phenomena. So far as the tradition of primitive seafaring is concerned, it may refer to some half-piratical expedition, the rich spoils of which might readily be known as the =Golden Fleece=. =Medea= is a typical wise-woman or witch; daughter of Hecate and granddaughter of Asteria, the starry heavens, she comes of a family skilled in magic. Her aunt Circe was even more powerful in necromancy than she. The robe of Medea is the fleece in another form. =Jason= is no more faithful to his sweetheart than other solar heroes--Hercules, Perseus, Apollo--are to theirs. The sun must leave the colors and glories, the twilights and the clouds of to-day, for those of to-morrow. See Roscher, pp. 530-537.

The physical explanation is more than commonly plausible. But the numerous adventures of the Argonauts are certainly survivals of various local legends that have been consolidated and preserved in the artistic form of the myth. Jason, Diáson, is another Zeus, of the Ionian race, beloved by Medea, whose name, "the counseling woman," suggests a goddess. Perhaps Medea was a local Hera-Demeter, degraded to the rank of a heroine. The =Symplegades= may be a reminiscence of rolling and clashing icebergs; the dove incident occurs in numerous ancient stories from that of Noah down. If Medea be another personification of morning and evening twilight, then her dragons are rays of sunlight that precede her. More likely they are part of the usual equipage of a witch, symbolizing wisdom, foreknowledge, swiftness, violence, and Oriental mystery.

=Illustrative.= The =Argo=, see Theodore Martin's translation of Catullus, LXIV (Peleus and Thetis), for the memorable launch; Pope, St. Cecilia's Day. =Jason=: Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, I, i; III, ii; =Æson=: Merchant of Venice, V, i; =Absyrtus=: 2 Henry VI, V, ii. =Poems=: Chaucer, Legende of Good Women, 1366 (Ysiphile and Medee); W. Morris, Life and Death of Jason; Frederick Tennyson, Æson and King Athamas (in Daphne and Other Poems). Thos. Campbell's translation of the chorus in Euripides' Medea, beginning "Oh, haggard queen! to Athens dost thou guide thy glowing chariot." Translations of the Medea of Euripides have been made by Augusta Webster, 1868; by W. C. Lawton (Three Dramas of Euripides) 1889; and by Wodhull.

=In Art.= The terra-cotta relief (Fig. 130, text) in the British Museum; the relief from Naples, now in Vienna (Fig. 131). Figs. 132 and 133 as explained in text. Also the splendid Vengeance of Medea in the Louvre; relief on a Roman sarcophagus.

=168. Textual.=

TABLE K. THE DESCENDANTS OF ÆTOLUS (SON OF ENDYMION)

=Endymion= +-- =Ætolus= +-- Calydon | +-- Epicaste | =Agenor | +-- Porthaon | | +-- =[OE]neus= | | =Perib[oe]a | | +-- =Tydeus= | | +-- =Diomedes= | | ==Althæa= | | +-- =Meleager= | | +-- =Dejanira= | | =Hercules | +-- Demonice | =Mars | +-- Thestius | +-- =Althæa= | | ==[OE]neus= | | +-- =Meleager= (see above) | | +-- =Dejanira= (see above) | +-- Plexippus | +-- Toxeus (?) | +-- =Leda= | =Tyndareus (Sparta) | +-- Castor | +-- Clytemnestra | =Jupiter | +-- Pollux | +-- Helen +-- Pleuron +-- Agenor =Epicaste +-- Porthaon (see above) +-- Demonice (see above)

Also, in general, Table I.

For =Calydon=, see Index. The Arcadian =Atalanta= was descended from the Arcas who was son of Jupiter and Callisto. (See Table D.)

=Interpretative.= Atalanta is the "unwearied maiden." She is the human counterpart of the huntress Diana. The story has of course been allegorically explained, but it bears numerous marks of local and historic origin.

=Illustrative.= Swinburne, Atalanta in Calydon; Margaret J. Preston, The Quenched Branch; Shakespeare, 2 Henry IV, II, ii; 2 Henry VI, I, i.

=In Art.= The Meleager (sculpture), in the Vatican; the Roman reliefs as in text. The original of Fig. 135 is in the Louvre.

=169.= The =Merope= story has been dramatized by Maffei (1713), Voltaire (1743), Alfieri (1783), and by others.

=170-171.= C. S. Calverley's The Sons of Leda, from Theocritus. =Leda=: Spenser, Prothalamion; Landor, Loss of Memory. =Talus=: the iron attendant of Artegal, Spenser, Faerie Queene, 5, 1, 12.

=172. The Descendants of Minos I=. (See also Table D.)

TABLE L

Europa =Jupiter +-- =Minos I= =Itone +-- Lycastus +-- =Minos II= ==Pasiphaë= +-- Crateus | +-- Aërope | =Atreus +-- Phædra | =Theseus +-- Ariadne =Theseus

Helios =Perseïs +-- =Pasiphaë= | ==Minos II= | +-- Crateus (see above) | +-- Phædra (see above) | +-- Ariadne (see above) +-- Circe +-- Æetes =Hecate +-- =Medea=

Asteria =Perses +-- Hecate =Æetes +-- =Medea= (see above)

=Interpretative.= Discrimination between Minos I and Minos II is made in the text, but is rarely observed. =Minos=, according to Preller, is the solar king and hero of Crete; his wife, =Pasiphaë=, is the moon (who was worshiped in Crete under the form of a cow); and the =Minotaur= is the lord of the starry heavens which are his labyrinth. Others make Pasiphaë, whose name means shiner upon all, the bright heaven; and Minos (in accordance with his name, the Man, par excellence), the thinker and measurer. A lawgiver on earth, the Homeric Minos readily becomes a judge in Hades. Various fanciful interpretations, such as storm cloud, sun, etc., are given of the bull. Cox explains the Minotaur as night, devouring all things. The tribute from Athens may suggest some early suzerainty in politics and religion exercised by Crete over neighboring lands. For =Mæander=, see Pope, Rape of the Lock, 5, 65; Dunciad, 1, 64; 3, 55.

=173. Interpretative. Dædalus= is a representative of the earliest technical skill, especially in wood-cutting, carving, and the plastic arts used for industrial purposes. His flight from one land to another signifies the introduction of inventions into the countries concerned. The fall of Icarus was probably invented to explain the name of the =Icarian= Sea.

=Illustrative. Dædalus=: Chaucer, Hous of Fame, 409. =Icarus=: Shakespeare, 1 Henry VI, IV, vi; IV, vii; 3 Henry VI, V, vi; poem on Icarus by Bayard Taylor; travesty by J. G. Saxe.

=In Art.= Sculpture: Fig. 138, in text: Villa Albani, Rome; Canova's Dædalus and Icarus; painting by J. M. Vien; also by A. Pisano (Campanile, Florence).

=174. The descendants of Erichthonius= are as follows:

TABLE M

Jupiter +-- Tantalus +-- Pelops +-- =Pittheus= | +-- =Æthra= | ==Ægeus= | +-- =Theseus= | =Ariadne d. of Minos II | =Antiope (Hippolyta) | +-- =Hippolytus= | =Phædra d. of Minos II +-- Atreus +-- Thyestes

=Erichthonius= +-- Pandion I +-- Erechtheus | +-- Pandion II | | +-- =Ægeus= | | ==Æthra= | | +-- =Theseus= (see above) | +-- Creüsa | =Apollo | +-- =Ion= | =Xuthus +-- =Procne= +-- =Philomela=

=Cecrops= (see =65=). According to one tradition, Cecrops was autochthonous and had one son, Erysichthon, who died without issue, and three daughters, Herse, Aglauros, and Pandrosos (personifications of Dew and its vivifying influences). According to another, he was of the line of Erichthonius, being either a son of Pandion I, or a son of Erechtheus and a grandson of Pandion I. Apollodorus makes him father of Pandion II. He was regarded as founder of the worship of Athene and of various civic institutions. He is probably a hero of the Pelasgian race.

=Ion.= According to one tradition, the race of Erechtheus became extinct, save for Ion, a son of Apollo and Creüsa, daughter of Erechtheus. This son, having been removed at birth, was brought up in Apollo's temple at Delphi, and, in accordance with the oracle of Apollo, afterwards adopted by Creüsa and her husband Xuthus (see the Ion of Euripides). Ion founded the new dynasty of Athens. But, according to Pausanias and Apollodorus, the dynasty of Erechtheus was continued by =Ægeus=, who was either a son, or an adopted son, of Pandion II. By Æthra he became father of Theseus, in whose veins flowed, therefore, the blood of Pelops and of Erichthonius.

=Interpretative.= The story of =Philomela= was probably invented to account for the sad song of the nightingale. With her the swallow is associated as another much loved bird of spring. Occasionally Procne is spoken of as the nightingale, and Philomela as the swallow, and Tereus as taking the form of a red-crested hoopoe.

=Illustrative.= Chaucer, Legende of Good Women (Philomene of Athens); Milton, Il Penseroso; Richard Barnfield, Song, "As it fell on a day"; Thomson, Hymn on the Seasons; Swinburne, Itylus; Oscar Wilde, The Burden of Itys; Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd's drama, Ion.

=176-181. Tr[oe]zen=: in Argolis. =Theseus= is said to have united the several tribes of Attica into one state, of which Athens was the capital. In commemoration of this important event, he instituted the festival of =Panathenæa=, in honor of Athene, the patron deity of Athens. This festival differed from the other Grecian games chiefly in two particulars. It was peculiar to the Athenians, and its chief feature was a solemn procession in which the Peplus, or sacred robe of Athene, was carried to the Parthenon, and left on or before the statue of the goddess. The Peplus was covered with embroidery, worked by select virgins of the noblest families in Athens. The procession consisted of persons of all ages and both sexes. The old men carried olive branches in their hands, and the young men bore arms. The young women carried baskets on their heads, containing the sacred utensils, cakes, and all things necessary for the sacrifices.

The procession formed the subject of the bas-reliefs which embellished the frieze of the temple of the Parthenon. A considerable portion of these sculptures is now in the British Museum among those known as the "Elgin Marbles." We may mention here the other celebrated national games of the Greeks. The first and most distinguished were the =Olympic=, founded, it was said, by Zeus himself. They were celebrated at Olympia in Elis. Vast numbers of spectators flocked to them from every part of Greece, and from Asia, Africa, and Sicily. They were repeated every fifth year in midsummer, and continued five days. They gave rise to the custom of reckoning time and dating events by Olympiads. C. The =Pythian= games were celebrated in the vicinity of Delphi, the =Isthmian= on the Corinthian isthmus, the =Nemean= at Nemea, a city of Argolis.

The exercises in these games were chariot-racing, running, leaping, wrestling, throwing the quoit, hurling the javelin, and boxing. Besides these exercises of bodily strength and agility, there were contests in music, poetry, and eloquence. Thus these games furnished poets, musicians, and authors the best opportunities to present their productions to the public, and the fame of the victors was diffused far and wide.

_ Theseus= is the Attic counterpart of Hercules, not so significant in moral character, but eminent for numerous similar labors, and preëminent as the mythical statesman of Athens. =Periphetes= may be a storm cloud with its thunderbolts; the =Marathonian Bull= and the =Minotaur= may be forms of the power of darkness hidden in the starry labyrinth of heaven. =Ariadne= may be another twilight-sweetheart of the sun, and, like Medea and Dejanira, she must be deserted. She is either the "well-pleasing" or the "saintly." She was, presumably, a local nature-goddess of Naxos and Crete, who, in process of time, like Medea, sank to the condition of a heroine. Probably from her goddess-existence the marriage with Bacchus survived, to be incorporated later with the Attic myth of Theseus.

As the female semblance of Bacchus, she appears to have been a promoter of vegetation; and, like Proserpina, she alternated between the joy of spring and the melancholy of winter. By some she is considered to be connected with star-worship as a moon-goddess.

_= Chaucer, The Knight's Tale (for Theseus and Ypolita); The Hous of Fame, 407, and the Legende of Good Women, 1884, for Ariadne; Shakespeare, Two Gentlemen of Verona, IV, i; Midsummer Night's Dream, II, ii (Hippolyta and Theseus); Shakespeare and Fletcher, Two Noble Kinsmen. In Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid's Tragedy, II, ii, a tapestry is ordered to be worked illustrating Theseus' desertion of Ariadne. Landor, To Joseph Ablett, "Bacchus is coming down to drink to Ariadne's love"; Landor, Theseus, and Hippolyta; Mrs. Browning, Paraphrase on Nonnus (Bacchus and Ariadne), Paraphrase on Hesiod; Sir Theodore Martin, Catullus, LXIV. Other poems: B. W. Procter, On the Statue of Theseus; Frederick Tennyson, Ariadne (Daphne and Other Poems); Mrs. Hemans, The Shade of Theseus; R. S. Ross, Ariadne in Naxos; J. S. Blackie, Ariadne; W. M. W. Call, Ariadne; Mrs. H. H.

=Phædra and Hippolytus=: The Hippolytus of Euripides; Swinburne, Phædra; Browning, Artemis Prologizes; M. P. Fitzgerald, The Crowned Hippolytus; A. Mary F. Robinson, The Crowned Hippolytus; L. Morris, Phædra (Epic of Hades). On =Cecrops=: J. S. Blackie, The Naming of Athens; Erechtheus, by A. C. Swinburne.

=In Art.= Theseus: the original of Fig. 140, text is in the Hermitage, St. Petersburg; of Fig. 141 in the Naples Museum. The Battle with the Amazons frequently recurs in ancient sculpture. The sleeping Ariadne, of the Vatican, Fig. 142, text. Also the Revels as in text, Fig. 144. Modern Sculpture: the Theseus of Canova (Volksgarten, Vienna); the Ariadne of Dannecker. Paintings: Tintoretto's Ariadne and Bacchus; Teschendorff's Ariadne; Titian's Bacchus and Ariadne.

=182-189. The Royal Family of Thebes.=

TABLE N

Agenor +-- Cadmus +-- =Agave= | =Echion | +-- Pentheus | +-- Men[oe]ceus I | +-- =Creon= | | +-- Men[oe]ceus II | | +-- Hæmon | +-- =Jocasta= | ==Laïus= | +-- =[OE]dipus= | ==Jocasta= | +-- =Eteocles= | +-- =Polynices= | +-- =Antigone= | +-- Ismene | ==[OE]dipus= | +-- =Eteocles= (see above) | +-- =Polynices= (see above) | +-- =Antigone= (see above) | +-- Ismene (see above) +-- Polydorus +-- =Labdacus= +-- =Laïus= ==Jocasta= +-- =[OE]dipus= (see above)

=Illustrative. [OE]dipus=: Plumptre's translation of [OE]dipus the King, [OE]dipus Coloneus, and Antigone; Shelley, Swellfoot the Tyrant; E. Fitzgerald, The Downfall and Death of King [OE]dipus; Sir F. H. Doyle, [OE]dipus Tyrannus; Aubrey De Vere, Antigone; Emerson, The Sphinx; W. B. Scott, The Sphinx; M. Arnold, Fragment of an "Antigone." =Tiresias=: by Swinburne, Tennyson, and Thomas Woolner.

=In Art.= Ancient: [OE]dipus and the Sphinx (in Monuments Inédits, Rome and Paris, 1839-1878). Modern paintings: Teschendorff's [OE]dipus and Antigone, Antigone and Ismene, and Antigone; [OE]dipus and the Sphinx, by J. D. A. Ingres; The Sphinx, by D. G. Rossetti.

Of the stories told in these and the following sections no systematic, allegorical, or physical interpretations are here given, because (1) the general method followed by the unravelers of myth has already been sufficiently illustrated; (2) the attempt to force symbolic conceptions into the longer folk-stories, or into the artistic myths and epics of any country, is historically unwarranted and, in practice, is only too often capricious; (3) the effort to interpret such stories as the Iliad and the Odyssey must result in destroying those elements of unconscious simplicity and romantic vigor that characterize the early products of the creative imagination.

=190-194. Houses concerned in the Trojan War.=

TABLE O

(1) =Family of Peleus= and its connections:

Asopus +-- Ægina =Jupiter +-- =Æacus= +-- Telamon | =Erib[oe]a | +-- Ajax | =Hesione | +-- =Teucer= +-- =Peleus= =Thetis +-- =Achilles= +-- Pyrrhus (Neoptolemus) =Hermione d. of Menelaüs and Helen

Nereus =Doris +-- Thetis ==Peleus= +-- =Achilles= (see above)

(2) =Family of Atreus= and its connections:

Jupiter +-- Minos I | +-- Lycastus | +-- Minos II | +-- Crateus | +-- Aërope | ==Atreus= | +-- =Agamemnon= | | ==Clytemnestra= | | +-- =Iphigenia= | | +-- =Electra= | | +-- Chrysothemis | | +-- =Orestes= | | =Hermione | +-- =Menelaüs= | ==Helen= | +-- Hermione | =Neoptolemus | ==Orestes= +-- Tantalus +-- Pelops =Hippodamia +-- =Atreus= | =Aërope | +-- =Agamemnon= (see above) | +-- =Menelaüs= (see above) +-- Thyestes | +-- =Ægisthus= +-- Pittheus +-- Æthra =Ægeus +-- Theseus +-- Hippolytus

(3) =Family of Tyndareus= and its connections:

Æolus +-- Perieres +-- Icarius | +-- =Penelope= +-- =Tyndareus= ==Leda= +-- Castor +-- =Clytemnestra=

Thestius +-- =Leda= ==Tyndareus= +-- Castor (see above) +-- =Clytemnestra= (see above) =Jupiter +-- Pollux +-- =Helen= ==Menelaüs= ==Paris=

Castor and Pollux are called sometimes Dioscuri (sons of Jove), sometimes Tyndaridæ (sons of Tyndareus). Helen is frequently called Tyndaris, daughter of Tyndareus.

(4) =Descent of Ulysses and Penelope=:

Hellen +-- Æolus I +-- Perieres | +-- Icarius | | +-- =Penelope= | | ==Ulysses= | | +-- =Telemachus= | +-- =Tyndareus= | ==Leda= | +-- Castor | +-- =Clytemnestra= +-- Deïon +-- Cephalus | =Procris | +-- Arcesius | +-- Laërtes | +-- =Ulysses= | ==Penelope= | +-- =Telemachus= (see above) +-- Actor +-- Men[oe]tius +-- =Patroclus=

(5) =The Royal Family of Troy=:

Iapetus (Titan) +-- Atlas +-- Electra (Pleiad) =Jupiter +-- =Dardanus= =Batea +-- Erichthonius +-- Tros +-- Ilus II | +-- =Laomedon= | +-- Tithonus | | =Aurora | | +-- Memnon | +-- Hesione | | =Telamon | | +-- =Teucer= | +-- =Priam= | =Hecuba | +-- =Hector= | | =Andromache | | +-- Astyanax | +-- =Paris= | | =[OE]none | | ==Helen= | +-- Deiphobus | +-- Helenus | +-- Troilus | +-- Cassandra | +-- Creüsa | | ==Æneas= | | +-- =Ascanius= | | =Iulus | +-- Polyxena +-- Assaracus +-- Capys +-- Anchises =Venus +-- =Æneas= =Creüsa +-- =Ascanius= (see above)

=Teucer= +-- Batea ==Dardanus= +-- Erichthonius (see above)

= On the =Iliad= and on =Troy=: Keats, Sonnet on Chapman's Homer; Milton, Paradise Lost, 1, 578; 9, 16; Il Penseroso, 100; Hartley Coleridge, Sonnet on Homer; T. B. Aldrich, Pillared Arch and Sculptured Tower; the Sonnets of Lang and Myers prefixed to Lang, Leaf, and Myers' translation of the Iliad. On the =Judgment of Paris=: George Peele, Arraignment of Paris; James Beattie, Judgment of Paris; Tennyson, Dream of Fair Women; J. S. Blackie, Judgment of Paris. See, for allusions, Shakespeare, All's Well that Ends Well, I, ii, iii; Henry V, II, iv; Troilus and Cressida, I, i; II, ii; III, i; Romeo and Juliet, I, ii; II, iv; IV, i; V, iii. On =Helen=: A. Lang, Helen of Troy, and his translation of Theocritus, Idyl XVIII; Landor, Menelaüs and Helen; John Todhunter, Helena in Troas; G. P. Lathrop, Helen at the Loom (Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 32, 1873).

See Shakespeare, Midsummer Night's Dream, I, i; III, ii; IV, i; All's Well that Ends Well, I, i, iii; II, ii; Romeo and Juliet, II, iv; Troilus and Cressida, II, ii; Marlowe, Faustus (Helen appears before Faust).

=In Art. Homer=: the sketch by Raphael (in the Museum, Venice). =Paris and= =Helen.= Paintings: Helen of Troy, Sir Frederick Leighton; Paris and Helen, by David; The Judgment of Paris, by Rubens; by Watteau. Sculpture: Canova's Paris. Crayons: D. G. Rossetti's Helen; see also Fig. 150, as in text (ancient relief, Naples).

=196. = Sometimes, in accordance with Goethe's practice, the name Tauris is given to the land of the Tauri. To be correct one should say, "Iphigenia among the Tauri," or "Taurians." (See Index.) Iphigenia and Agamemnon by W. S. Landor; also his Shades of Agamemnon and Iphigenia; Dryden, Cymon and Iphigenia; Richard Garnett, Iphigenia in Delphi; Sir Edwin Arnold, Iphigenia; W. B. Scott, Iphigenia at Aulis. Any translations of Goethe's Iphigenia in Tauris, and of Euripides' Iphigenia in Aulis and Among the Tauri; also of Æschylus' Agamemnon,--such as those by Milman, Anna Swanwick, Plumptre, E. A. Morshead, J. S. Blackie, E. Fitzgerald, and Robert Browning. For Agamemnon, see Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, I, iii; II, i, iii; III, iii; IV, v; V, i; and James Thomson, Agamemnon (a drama). The =Troilus and= =Cressida= story is not found in Greek and Latin classics.

=Pandarus=: the character of this name, uncle of Cressida, to be found in Lydgate, Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde, and Shakespeare's play of the same title, enjoys an unsavory reputation for which medieval romance is responsible. On =Menelaüs=, see notes to Helen and Agamemnon.

=In Art. Iphigenia.= Paintings: Fig. 152, text (Museum, Naples); E. Hübner; William Kaulbach; E. Teschendorff.

=199. Achilles.= Chaucer, Hous of Fame, 398; Dethe of Blaunche, 329; Landor, Peleus and Thetis; Robert Bridges, Achilles in Scyros; Sir Theodore Martin, translation of Catullus, LXIV; translation by C. M. Gayley as quoted in text. See also Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida; 2 Henry VI, V, i; Love's Labour's Lost, V, ii; Milton, Paradise Lost, 9, 15.

=In Art.= In general, Figs. 151, 153, 155-156, 159-162, in text; Wiertz, Fight for the Body of Achilles (Wiertz Museum, Brussels); Burne-Jones, The Feast of Peleus (picture).

=204. Ajax.= Plumptre, Ajax of Sophocles; Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, Love's Labour's Lost, IV, iii; V, ii; Taming of the Shrew, III, i; Antony and Cleopatra, IV, ii; King Lear, II, ii; Cymbeline, IV, ii; George Crabbe, The Village.

=In Art.= The ancient sculpture, Ajax (or Menelaüs) of the Vatican. Modern sculpture, The Ajax of Canova. Flaxman's outline drawings for the Iliad.

=207. Hector and Andromache.= Mrs. Browning, Hector and Andromache, a paraphrase of Homer; C. T. Brooks, Schiller's Parting of Hector and Andromache. See also Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida; Love's Labour's Lost, V, ii; 2 Henry IV, II, iv; Antony and Cleopatra, IV, viii.

=In Art.= Flaxman's outline sketches of the Fight for the Body of Patroclus, Hector dragged by Achilles, Priam supplicating Achilles, Hector's Funeral, Andromache fainting on the Walls of Troy; Canova's Hector (sculpture); Thorwaldsen's Hector and Andromache (relief) (Fig. 154, text). Hector, Ajax, Paris, Æneas, Patroclus, Teucer, etc., among the Ægina Marbles (Glyptothek, Munich). The Pasquino group (Fig. 158, in text) is from a copy in the Pitti, Florence.

=216. Priam and Hecuba.= The translations of Euripides' Hecuba and Troades; Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida; Coriolanus, I, iii; Cymbeline, IV, ii; Hamlet, II, ii; 2 Henry IV, I, i.

=219-220. Polyxena.= W. S. Landor, The Espousals of Polyxena. =Philoctetes=: translation of Sophocles by Plumptre; sonnet by Wordsworth; drama by Lord de Tabley.

=221. [OE]none.= See A. Lang, Helen of Troy; W. Morris, Death of Paris (Earthly Paradise); Landor, Corythos (son of [OE]none), the Death of Paris, and [OE]none, Tennyson, [OE]none, also the Death of [OE]none, which is not so good.

The pathetic story of the death of Corythus, the son of [OE]none and Paris, at the hands of his father, who was jealous of Helen's tenderness toward the youth, is a later myth.

=223. Sinon.= Shakespeare, 3 Henry VI, III, ii; Cymbeline, III, iv; Titus Andronicus, V, iii.

=224. Laocoön.= L. Morris, in The Epic of Hades. See Frothingham's translation of Lessing's Laocoön (a most important discussion of the Laocoön group and of principles of æsthetics). See also Swift's Description of a City Shower.

=In Art.= The original of the celebrated group (statuary) of Laocoön and his children in the embrace of the serpents is in the Vatican in Rome. (See text, opp. p. 310.)

=226. Cassandra.= Chaucer, Troilus and Criseyde; Dethe of Blaunche, 1246. Poems by W. M. Praed and D. G. Rossetti. See Troilus and Cressida, I, i; II, ii; V, iii; Lord Lytton's translation of Schiller's Cassandra.

=In Art.= The Cassandra of Dante Gabriel Rossetti (in ink).

=228-230. Electra and Orestes.= Translations of the Electra of Sophocles, the Libation-pourers and the Eumenides of Æschylus, by Plumptre; and of the Orestes and Electra of Euripides, by Wodhull. Lord de Tabley, Orestes (a drama); Byron, Childe Harold, 4; Milton, sonnet, "The repeated air Of sad Electra's poet," etc.

=In Art.= Græco-Roman sculpture: Fig. 169, in text, Orestes and Pylades find Iphigenia among the Taurians. Pompeian Fresco; Orestes and Electra (Villa Ludovisi, Rome); Orestes and Electra (National Museum, Naples). Vase-paintings: Figs. 167-168 in text; also Orestes slaying Ægisthus; Orestes at Delphi; Purification of Orestes. Modern paintings: Electra, by Teschendorff and by Seifert.

=Clytemnestra=, The Death of, by W. S. Landor; Clytemnestra, by L. Morris, in The Epic of Hades.

=Troy=: Byron, in his Bride of Abydos, thus describes the appearance of the deserted scene where once stood Troy:

The winds are high, and Helle's tide Rolls darkly heaving to the main; And Night's descending shadows hide That field with blood bedew'd in vain, The desert of old Priam's pride; The tombs, sole relics of his reign, All--save immortal dreams that could beguile The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle!

On Troy the following references will be valuable: H. W. Acland, The Plains of Troy, 2 vols. (London, 1839); H. Schliemann, Troy and its Remains (London, 1875); Ilios (London, 1881); Troja, results of latest researches on the site of Homer's Troy (London, 1882); W. J. Armstrong, Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 33, p. 173 (1874), Over Ilium and Ida; R. C. Jebb, Jour. Hellenic Studies, Vol. 2, p. 7, Homeric and Hellenic Ilium; Fortn. Review, N. S. Vol. 35, p. 4331 (1884), Homeric Troy.

=231-244.= The =Odyssey=: Lang, Sonnet, "As one that for a weary space has lain," prefixed to Butcher and Lang's Odyssey. Translations by W. Morris, G. H. Palmer, Chapman, Bryant, Pope. =Ulysses=: Tennyson; Landor, The Last of Ulysses. See also Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida; 3 Henry VI, III, ii; Coriolanus, I, iii; Milton, Paradise Lost, 2, 1019; Comus, 637; R. Buchanan, Cloudland; Pope, Rape of the Lock, 4, 182; Stephen Phillips, Ulysses; Robert Bridges, The Return of Ulysses; R. C. Rogers, Odysseus at the Mast, Blind Polyphemus, Argus.

=In Art.= Statuettes, vase-paintings, and reliefs as in text, Figs. 170-180; also Ulysses summoning Tiresias (in Monuments Inédits, Rome and Paris, 1839-1878); Meeting with Nausicaa (Gerhard's vase pictures); outline drawings of Ulysses weeping at the song of Demodocus, boring out the eye of Polyphemus, Ulysses killing the suitors, Mercury conducting the souls of the suitors, Ulysses and his dog, etc., by Flaxman.

=Penelope=: Poems by R. Buchanan, E. C. Stedman, and W. S. Landor. In ancient sculpture, the Penelope in the Vatican. Modern painting by C. F. Marchal. In crayons by D. G. Rossetti.

=Circe=: M. Arnold, The Strayed Reveller; Hood, Lycus, the Centaur; D. G. Rossetti, The Wine of Circe; Saxe, The Spell of Circe. See Shakespeare, Comedy of Errors, V, i; 1 Henry VI, V, iii; Milton, Comus, 50, 153, 253, 522; Pope, Satire 8, 166; Cowper, Progress of Error; O. W. Holmes, Metrical Essay; Keats, Endymion, "I sue not for my happy crown again," etc. Circe and the Companions of Ulysses, a painting by Briton Rivière. Circe, in crayons.

On =Sirens= and =Scylla= see =C. 50-52=; S. Daniel, Ulysses and the Siren; Lowell, The Sirens. Scylla and Charybdis have become proverbial to denote opposite dangers besetting one's course. Siren, in crayons; Sea-Spell, in oil, D. G. Rossetti.

=Calypso=: Pope, Moral Essays, 2, 45; poem by Edgar Fawcett (Putnam's Mag., 14, 1869). Fénelon, in his romance of Telemachus, has given us the adventures of the son of Ulysses in search of his father. Among other places which he visited, following on his father's footsteps, was Calypso's isle; as in the former case, the goddess tried every art to keep the youth with her, and offered to share her immortality with him. But Minerva, who, in the shape of Mentor, accompanied him and governed all his movements, made him repel her allurements. Finally, when no other means of escape could be found, the two friends leaped from a cliff into the sea and swam to a vessel which lay becalmed offshore. Byron alludes to this leap of Telemachus and Mentor in the stanza of Childe Harold beginning "But not in silence pass Calypso's isles" (2, 29). Calypso's isle is said to be Goza.

Homer's description of the ships of the Phæacians has been thought to look like an anticipation of the wonders of modern steam navigation. See the address of Alcinoüs to Ulysses, promising "wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind," etc. (Odyssey, 8).

Lord Carlisle, in his Diary in the Turkish and Greek Waters, thus speaks of Corfu, which he considers to be the ancient Phæacian island:

"The sites explain the Odyssey. The temple of the sea-god could not have been more fitly placed, on a grassy platform of the most elastic turf, on the brow of a crag commanding harbor, and channel, and ocean. Just at the entrance of the inner harbor there is a picturesque rock with a small convent perched on it, which by one legend is the transformed pinnace of Ulysses.

"Almost the only river in the island is just at the proper distance from the probable site of the city and palace of the king, to justify the princess Nausicaa having had resort to her chariot and to luncheon when she went with the maidens of the court to wash their garments."

[AI-oversettelse: Denne delen ble ikke oversatt fordi AI-kallet feilet. Kildeteksten er beholdt og må gjennomgås.]

=245-254.= Poems: Tennyson, To =Virgil=, of which a few stanzas are given in the text; R. C. Rogers, Virgil's Tomb. =Æneas= and =Anchises=: Chaucer, Hous of Fame, 165; 140-470 (pictures of Troy); Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida; Tempest, II, i; 2 Henry VI, V, ii; Julius Cæsar, I, ii; Antony and Cleopatra, IV, ii; Hamlet, II, ii; Waller, Panegyric to the Lord-Protector (The Stilling of Neptune's Storm).

=Dido=: Chaucer, Legende of Good Women, 923; Sir Thomas Wyatt, The Song of Iopas (unfinished); Marlowe, Tragedy of Dido, Queen of Carthage; Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra, IV, xii; Titus Andronicus, II, iii; Hamlet, II, ii. =Palinurus=: see Scott's Marmion, Introd. to Canto I (with reference to the death of William Pitt).

The =Sibyl=. The following legend of the Sibyl is fixed at a later date. In the reign of one of the Tarquins there appeared before the king a woman who offered him nine books for sale. The king refused to purchase them, whereupon the woman went away and burned three of the books, and returning offered the remaining books for the same price she had asked for the nine. The king again rejected them; but when the woman, after burning three books more, returned and asked for the three remaining the same price which she had before asked for the nine, his curiosity was excited, and he purchased the books. They were found to contain the destinies of the Roman state. They were kept in the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, preserved in a stone chest, and allowed to be inspected only by especial officers appointed for that duty, who on great occasions consulted them and interpreted their oracles to the people.

There were various Sibyls; but the Cumæan Sibyl, of whom Ovid and Virgil write, is the most celebrated of them. Ovid's story of her life protracted to one thousand years may be intended to represent the various Sibyls as being only reappearances of one and the same individual.

=Illustrative.= Young, in the Night Thoughts, alludes to the Sibyl. See also Shakespeare, 1 Henry VI, II, ii; Othello, III, iv.

=In Art.= Figs. 181-183, in text. The Virgil of Raphael (drawing in the Museum, Venice); the Æneas of the Ægina Marbles (Glyptothek, Munich). P. Guérin's painting, Æneas at the Court of Dido; Raphael, Dido; Turner, Dido building Carthage. The Sibyls in Michelangelo's frescoes in the Sistine Chapel, Rome; the Cumæan Sibyl of Domenichino; Elihu Vedder's Cumæan Sibyl.

=255-257. Rhadamanthus=: E. W. Gosse, The Island of the Blest. =Tantalus=: Cowper, The Progress of Error; L. Morris, Epic of Hades; W. W. Story, Tantalus. =Ixion=: poem by Browning in Jocoseria. See Pope, St. Cecilia's Day, 67; Rape of the Lock, 2, 133. =Sisyphus=: Lord Lytton, Death and Sisyphus; L. Morris, in The Epic of Hades.

=The teachings of Anchises= to Æneas, respecting the nature of the human soul, were in conformity with the doctrines of the Pythagoreans. ) was a native of the island of Samos, but passed the chief portion of his life at Crotona in Italy. He is therefore sometimes called "the Samian," and sometimes "the philosopher of Crotona." When young he traveled extensively and is said to have visited Egypt, where he was instructed by the priests, and afterwards to have journeyed to the East, where he visited the Persian and Chaldean Magi, and the Brahmins of India. Ipse dixit (Pythagoras said so) was to be held by them as sufficient proof of anything. Only advanced pupils might question. Pythagoras considered numbers as the essence and principle of all things, and attributed to them a real and distinct existence; so that, in his view, they were the elements out of which the universe was constructed.

As the numbers proceed from the monad or unit, so he regarded the pure and simple essence of the Deity as the source of all the forms of nature. Gods, demons, and heroes are emanations of the Supreme, and there is a fourth emanation, the human soul. This is immortal, and when freed from the fetters of the body, passes to the habitation of the dead, where it remains till it returns to the world, to dwell in some other human or animal body; at last, when sufficiently purified, it returns to the source from which it proceeded. This doctrine of the transmigration of souls (metempsychosis), which was originally Egyptian and connected with the doctrine of reward and punishment of human actions, was the chief reason why the Pythagoreans killed no animals. Ovid represents Pythagoras saying that in the time of the Trojan War he was Euphorbus, the son of Panthus, and fell by the spear of Menelaüs.

Lately, he said, he had recognized his shield hanging among the trophies in the Temple of Juno at Argos.

On =Metempsychosis=, see the essay in the Spectator (No. 343) on the Transmigration of Souls; Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice (Gratiano to Shylock).

=Harmony of the Spheres.= The relation of the notes of the musical scale to numbers, whereby harmony results from proportional vibrations of sound, and discord from the reverse, led Pythagoras to apply the word harmony to the visible creation, meaning by it the just adaptation of parts to each other. This is the idea which Dryden expresses in the beginning of his song for St. Cecilia's Day, "From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This everlasting frame began."

In the center of the universe (as Pythagoras taught) there was a central fire, the principle of life. The central fire was surrounded by the earth, the moon, the sun, and the five planets. The distances of the various heavenly bodies from one another were conceived to correspond to the proportions of the musical scale. See Merchant of Venice, Act V (Lorenzo and Jessica), for the Music of the Spheres; also Milton, Hymn on the Nativity. See Longfellow's Verses to a Child, and Occultation of Orion, for Pythagoras as inventor of the lyre.

=260. Camilla.= Pope, illustrating the rule that "the sound should be an echo to the sense," says:

When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line, too, labors and the words move slow; Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, or skims along the main.

Essay on Criticism.

= On Norse mythology, see R. B. Anderson, Norse Mythology, or the Religion of our Forefathers (Chicago, 1875); Anderson, Horn's Scandinavian Literature (Chicago, S. C. from P. C. Asbjörnsen, New York, 1859); Thorpe's translation of Sæmund's Edda, 2 vols. into English verse (Bristol, A. S. Cottle, 1797); Augusta Larned, Tales from the Norse Grandmother (New York, 1881); H. W. Mabie, Norse Stories (Boston, 1882). A critical edition of the Elder Edda is Sophus Bugge's (Christiania, 1867). The Younger Edda: Edda Snorra Sturlasonar, 2 vols. (Hafniae, 1848-1852); by Thorleif Jonsson (Copenhagen, 1875); Translation: Anderson's Younger Edda (Chicago, S. C. , 1880) (see references at foot of pp. 458-461 and in =C. 282=).

Illustrative poems: Gray, Ode on the Descent of Odin, Ode on the Fatal Sisters; Matthew Arnold, Balder Dead; Longfellow, Tegnér's Drapa, on Balder's Death; William Morris, The Funeral of Balder, in The Lovers of Gudrun (Earthly Paradise); Robert Buchanan, Balder the Beautiful; W. M. W. Call, Balder; and Thor. Sydney Dobell's Balder does not rehearse the Norse myth. It is a poem dealing with the spiritual maladies of the time, excellent in parts, but confused and uneven. n]gla, or Book of Stories of the Kings, edited by Snorri Sturlason. Many of the cantos of the Saga throw light on Norse mythology. See also the Hon. Roden Noël's Ragnarok (in the Modern Faust), for an ethical modification of the ancient theme.

=Anses= (the Asa-folk, Æsir, etc.). The word probably means ghost, ancestral spirit,--of such kind as the Manes of the Romans. The derivation may be from the root AN, 'to breathe,' whence animus (Vigfusson and Powell, Corp. Poet. Bor. 1, 515). According to Jordanes, the Anses were demigods, ancestors of royal races. The main cult of the older religion was ancestor-worship, Thor and Woden being worshiped by a tribe, but each family having its own anses, or deified ancestors (Corp. Poet. Bor. 2, 413). =Elf= was another name used of spirits of the dead. Later it sinks to the significance of "fairy." Indeed, say Vigfusson and Powell, half our ideas about fairies are derived from the heathen beliefs as to the spirits of the dead, their purity, kindliness, homes in hillocks (cf. the Irish "folk of the hills," Banshees, etc.) (Corp. Poet. Bor. 2, 418).

The =Norse Religion= consists evidently of two distinct strata: the lower, of gods, that are personifications of natural forces, or deified heroes, with regular sacrifices, with belief in ghosts, etc.; the upper, of doctrines introduced by Christianity. To the latter belong the Last Battle to be fought by Warrior-Angels and the Elect against the Beast, the Dragon, and the Demons of Fire (Corp. Poet. Bor. 2, 459).

=Thor= is the lord of the hammer--the thunderbolt, the adversary of giants and all oppressors of man. He is dear to man, always connected with earth,--the husband of Sif (the Norse Ceres). =Balder= means also lord or king. On the one hand, his attributes recall those of Apollo; on the other hand, his story appeals to, and is colored by, the Christian imagination. He is another figure of that radiant type to which belong all bright and genial heroes, righters of wrong, blazing to consume evil, gentle and strong to uplift weakness: Apollo, Hercules, Perseus, Achilles, Sigurd, St. =Höder= is the "adversary."

=Nanna=, Balder's wife, is the ensample of constancy; her name is maiden.

= The =Volsunga Saga=. The songs of the Elder Edda, from which Eirikr Magnússon and William Morris draw their Story of the Volsungs and the Nibelungs (London, 1870), are The Lay of Helgi the Hunding's-Bane, The Lay of Sigrdrifa, The Short Lay of Sigurd, The Hell-Ride of Brynhild, The Lay of Brynhild, The Ancient Lay of Gudrun, The Song of Atli, The Whetting of Gudrun, The Lay of Hamdir, The Lament of Oddrun. For translations of these fragments, see pp. 167-270 of the volume mentioned above. For the originals and literal translations of these and other Norse lays of importance, see Vigfusson and Powell's Corpus Poeticum Boreale; and Vigfusson's Sturlunga Saga, 2 vols. For the story of Sigurd, read William Morris' spirited epic, Sigurd the Volsung.

Illustrative of the Norse spirit are Motherwell's Battle-Flag of Sigurd, the Wooing Song of Jarl Egill Skallagrim, and the Sword Chant of Thorstein Raudi; also Dora Greenwell's Battle-Flag of Sigurd; and Charles Kingsley's Longbeard's Saga, in Hypatia. Baldwin's Story of Siegfried (New York, 1888) is a good introduction for young people.

= The =Nibelungenlied=. , 1877) will be of value to the beginner. Other translations are made by A. G. Foster-Barham (London, 1887) and by W. N. Lettsom, The Fall of the Nibelungers (London, 1874), both in verse. See also T. Carlyle, Nibelungenlied (Crit. ), Essays, 2, 220. Modern German editions by Simrock, Bartsch, Marbach, and Gerlach are procurable. The edition by Werner Hahn (Uebersetzung d. Handschrift A, Collection Spemann, Berlin u. Stuttgart) has been used in the preparation of this account. The original was published in part by Bodmer in 1757; later, in full by C. H. Myller, by K. K. Lachmann (Nibelunge Nôt mit der Klage, 1826); by K. F. in 3, 1870-1880), and in Pfeiffer's Deutsch. , Vol. 3, (1872); and by others (see James Sime's Nibelungenlied, Encyc. ). Of some effect in stimulating interest were Dr. W. Jordan's Studies and Recitations of the Nibelunge, which comprised the Siegfried Saga, and Hildebrandt's Return.

Especially of value is Richard Wagner's series of operas, The Ring of the Nibelung, =284-288=. In painting, Schnorr von Carolsfeld's wall pictures illustrative of the Nibelungenlied, in the royal palace at Munich, are well known; also the illustrations of the four operas by J. Hoffmann, and by Th. Pixis.

= Historically, =Siegfried= has been identified, variously, with (1) the great German warrior Arminius (or Hermann), the son of Sigimer, chief of the tribe of the Cherusci, who inhabited the southern part of what is now Hanover and Brunswick. D. It is probable that in Sigurd and Siegfried we have recollections combined of two or more of these historic characters.

Mythologically, =Sigurd= (of the shining eyes that no man might face unabashed) has been regarded as a reflection of the god Balder.

=Gunnar= and =Gunther= are, historically, recognized in a slightly known king of the Burgundians, Gundicar, who with his people was overwhelmed by the Huns in 437 A.D.

=Atli= and =Etzel= are poetic idealizations of the renowned Hunnish chieftain, Attila, who united under his rule the German and Slavonic nations, ravaged the Eastern Roman Empire between 445 and 450 A.D., and, invading the Western Empire, was defeated by the Romans in the great battle of Châlons-sur-Marne, 451. He died 454 A.D.

=Dietrich of Berne= (Verona) bears some very slight resemblance to Theodoric, the Ostrogoth, who, between 493 and 526 A.D., ruled from Italy what had been the Western Empire. In these poems, however, his earlier illustrious career is overlooked; he is merely a refugee in the court of the Hunnish king, and, even so, is confounded with uncles of his who had been retainers of Attila; for the historic Theodoric was not born until two years after the historic Attila's death.

These historic figures were, of course, merely suggestions for, or contributions to, the great heroes of the epics, not prototypes; the same is true of any apparently confirmed historic forerunners of Brynhild, or Gudrun, or Kriemhild. The mythological connection of these epics with the Norse myths of the seasons, Sigurd being Balder of the spring, and Hogni Höder of winter and darkness, is ingenious; but, except as reminding us of the mythic material which the bards were likely to recall and utilize, it is not of substantial worth.

In the Norse version, the name =Nibelung= is interchangeable with the patronymic =Giuking=,--it is the name of the family that ruins Sigurd. But, in the German version, the name is of purely mythical import: the Nibelungs are not a human race; none but Siegfried may have intercourse with them. The land of the Nibelungs is equally vague in the German poem; it is at one time an island, again a mountain, and in one manuscript it is confounded with Norway. But mythically it is connected with Niflheim, the kingdom of Hela, the shadowy realm of death. The earth, that gathers to her bosom the dead, cherishes also in her bosom the hoard of gold. Naturally, therefore, the hoard is guarded by Alberich, the dwarf, for dwarfs have always preferred the underworld.

So (according to Werner Hahn, and others) there is a deep mythical meaning in the Lay of the Nibelungs: beings that dwell far from the light of day; or that, possessing the riches of mortality, march toward the land of death.

=284-288.= Wagner finished this series of operas in 1876. For a translation the reader is referred to the four librettos, Englished by Frederick Jameson (Schott & Co., London); or to the series published by Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., New York.

=298. Homer= is also called Melesigenes, son of Meles--the stream on which Smyrna was built. The Homeridæ, who lived on Chios, claimed to be descended from Homer. They devoted themselves to the cultivation of epic poetry.

=Arion.= See George Eliot's poem beginning

Arion, whose melodic soul Taught the dithyramb to roll.

=Other Greek Poets of Mythology= to be noted are =Callimachus= (260 B.C.), whose Lock of Berenice is reproduced in the elegiacs of Catullus, and from whose Origins (of sacred rites) Ovid drew much of his information. Also =Nicander= (150 B.C.), whose Transformations, and =Parthenius=, whose Metamorphoses furnished material to the Latin poet. With Theocritus should be read =Bion= and =Moschus=, all three masters of the idyl and elegy. See Andrew Lang's translation of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus; and the verses by Dobson and Gosse with which Lang prefaces the translation. =Lycophron= (260 B.C.) wrote a poem called Alexandra, on the consequences of the voyage of Paris to Sparta. The Loves of Hero and Leander were probably written by a grammarian, =Musæus=, as late as 500 A.D.

=Translations of Greek Poets.= The best verse translations of Homer are those of Chapman, Pope, the Earl of Derby, Cowper, and Worsley.

An excellent prose translation of the Iliad is that of Lang, Leaf, and Myers (London, Macmillan & Co., 1889); of the Odyssey, that by Butcher and Lang (London, Macmillan & Co., 1883); or the translation into rhythmical prose by G. H. Palmer (Boston, Houghton Mifflin Co., 1892).

=The Tragic Poets.= Plumptre's translations of Æschylus and Sophocles, 2 vols. (New York, Routledge, 1882); A. S. Way's translation of Euripides, into verse (London, 1894); Wodhull, Potter, and Milman's translation of Euripides in Morley's Universal Library (London, Routledge, 1888); Potter's Æschylus, Francklin's Sophocles, Wodhull's Euripides, 5 vols. (London, 1809). Other translations of Æschylus are J. S. Blackie's (1850); T. A. Buckley's (London, Bohn, 1848); E. A. A. Morshead's (1881); and Verrall's;--of Sophocles: Thos. Dale's, into verse, 2 vols. (1824); R. Whitelaw's, into verse (1883); Lewis Campbell's Seven Plays, into verse (1883);--of Euripides: T. A. Buckley's, 2 vols. (London, Bohn, 1854-1858); and Verrall's.

=Other Poets.= Lang's prose translation of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus; C. S. Calverley's verse translation of Theocritus (Boston, 1906). Pindar,--Odes, transl. by F. A. Paley (London, 1868); by Ernest Myers (London, 1874). Translations of Greek Lyric Poets,--Collections from the Greek Anthology, by Bland and Merivale (London, 1833); The Greek Anthology, by Lord Neaves, Ancient Classics for English Readers Series (London, 1874); Bohn's Greek Anthology, by Burges (London, 1852).

On Homer, Hesiod, Theocritus, the tragic poets, Pindar, etc., see also Collins' excellent series of Ancient Classics for English Readers, Philadelphia (Lippincott); and the series entitled "English Translations from Ancient and Modern Poems," by Various Authors, 3 vols. (London, 1810). Also W. C. Wilkinson's College Greek Course, and College Latin Course, in English (1884-1886). Of Æschylus read the Prometheus Bound, to illustrate =15=; the Agamemnon, Choëphori, and Eumenides, to illustrate =193=, =228-230=; and the Seven against Thebes, for =187=. Of Sophocles read [OE]dipus Rex, [OE]dipus at Colonus, Antigone, with =182-185=, etc.; Electra, with =228=; Ajax and Philoctetes, with the Trojan War; Women of Trachis, with =162=. Of Euripides read Medea, Ion, Alcestis, Iphigenia in Aulis and in Tauris, Electra.

=299. Roman Poets. =Valerius Flaccus= (d. ) revived in the brilliant verses of his Thebaid and his Achilleïd the epic myths and epic machinery, but not the vigor and naturalness of the ancient style. To a prose writer, =Hyginus=, who lived on terms of close intimacy with Ovid, a fragmentary work called the Book of Fables, which is sometimes a useful source of information, and four books of Poetical Astronomy, have been attributed. The works, as we have them, could not have been written by a friend of the cultivated Ovid.

= For a general treatment of the great poets of Rome, the student is referred to W. L. Collins' series of Ancient Classics for English Readers (Philadelphia, Lippincott). For the Cupid and Psyche of =Apuleius=, read Walter Pater's Marius the Epicurean (London, 1885). Of translations, the following are noteworthy: Ovid,--the Metamorphoses, by Dryden, Addison, and others; into English blank verse by Ed. King (Edinburgh, 1871); prose by Riley (London, 1851); verse by Geo. Sandys (London, 1626). Virgil: complete works into prose by J. Lonsdale and S. Lee (New York, Macmillan); Æneid, translations,--into verse by John Conington (London, 1873); into dactylic hexameter by Oliver Crane (New York, 1888); the Æneids into verse by Wm. Morris (London, 1876); and by Theodore C. ); Bks. 1-4, by Stanyhurst (Arber's Reprint) (1582); Æneis, by Dryden. by Robinson Ellis (London, 1871); by Sir Theodore Martin (Edinburgh, 1875).

, by Conington (London, 1872); Odes and Epodes, by Lord Lytton (New York, 1870); complete, by E. C. Wickham (Oxford, Clarendon Press); Odes, by A. S. Way (London, 1876) and Epodes (1898). by Pope.

=300.= For =Scandinavian literature=, see footnotes to =300=, and references in =C. 268-282=.

The association of the runic letters with heathen mysteries and superstition caused the first Christian teachers to discourage, and, indeed, as far as possible, suppress their use. They were therefore superseded by the Latin alphabet, which in First English was supplemented by retention of two of the runes, named 'thorn' and 'wen,' to represent sounds of 'th' and 'w,' for which the Latin alphabet had no letters provided. Each rune was named after some object whose name began with the sound represented. "--MORLEY, English Writers, 1, 267. See also Vigfusson and Powell's Corpus Poeticum Boreale, 2, 691, under Runes and Rune-Stones; Cleasby and Vigfusson's Icelandic-English Dictionary; and George Stephens' Old Northern Runic Monuments, 2 vols. (London, 1866-1868).

=301.= For =Translations of the Nibelungenlied=, see =C. 283=. For other German lays of myth,--the Gudrun, the Great Rose Garden, the Horned Siegfried, etc.,--see Vilmar's Geschichte der deutschen National-Litteratur, 42-101 (Leipzig, 1886). See also, in general, Grimm's Deutsche Mythologie (Göttingen, 1855); Ludlow's Popular Epics of the Middle Ages, 2 vols. (London, 1865); George T. Dippold's Great Epics of Mediæval Germany (Boston, 1891).

=302. Egyptian.= See Birch's Guide to the First and Second Egyptian Rooms, British Museum; Miss A. B. Edwards' A Thousand Miles up the Nile (London, 1876).

For the principal divinities, see Index to this work.

=303. , translated by various scholars (Oxford, 1874-1890); Müller's History of Sanskrit Literature (London, 1859); Weber's History of Indian Literature (London, 1878); H. H. Wilson's Rig-Veda-Sanhita, 6 vols. (London, 1850-1870), and his Theatre of the Hindus, 2 vols. (London, 1871); Muir's Sanskrit Texts, and his Principal Deities of the Rig-Veda, 5 vols. (London, 1868-1873); J. Freeman Clarke's Ten Great Religions (Boston, 1880); the Mahâbhârata, translated by Protap Chundra Roy, Nos. 1-76 (Calcutta, 1883-1893). See Indian Idylls, by Edwin Arnold; The Episode of Nala,--Nalopákhyánam,--translated by Monier Williams (Oxford, 1879). Of the Râmâyana, a paraphrase (in brief) is given by F. Richardson in the Iliad of the East (London, 1870). Sir William Jones' translation of the Sakuntala; E. A. Reed's Hindu Literature, with translations (Chicago, 1891), W. Ward's History, Literature, and Mythology of the Hindoos, 3 vols. (London, 1822).

On Buddhism, read Arnold's Light of Asia.

For the chief divinities of the Hindus, see Index to this work.

=304. Persian.= J. Freeman Clarke's Ten Great Religions; Johnson's Oriental Religions; Haug's Essays on the Sacred Language, Literature, etc., of the Parsis, by E. W. West (Boston, 1879). In illustration should be read Moore's Fire-Worshipers in Lalla Rookh.