 Preface from the Heroes My dear children, some of you have heard already of the old Greeks, and all of you, as you grow up, will hear more and more of them. Those of you who are boys will perhaps spend a great deal of time in reading Greek books, and the girls, though they may not learn Greek, will be sure to come across a great many stories taken from Greek history, and to see, I may say every day, things which we should not have had if it had not been for these old Greeks. You can hardly find a well-written book which was not in it Greek names, and words, and proverbs. You cannot walk through a great town without passing Greek buildings. You cannot go into a well-furnished room without seeing Greek statues and ornaments, even Greek patterns of furniture and paper. So strangely have these old Greeks left their mark behind them upon this modern world in which we now live. And as you grow up and read more and more, you will find that we owe to these old Greeks the beginners of all our mathematics and geometry, that is, the science and knowledge of numbers, and of the shapes of things, and of the forces which make things move and stand at rest, and the beginnings of our geography and astronomy, and of our laws and freedom and politics. That is the science of how to rule a country and make it peaceful and strong. And we owe to them too the beginning of our logic, that is, the study of words and of reasoning, and of our metaphysics, that is, the study of our own thoughts and souls. And last of all, they made their language so beautiful that foreigners used to take to it instead of their own. And at last Greek became the common language of educated people all over the world, from Persia and Egypt, even to Spain and Britain. And therefore it was that the New Testament was written in Greek, that it might be read and understood by all the nations of the Roman Empire, so that next to the Jews and the Bible which the Jews handed down to us, we owe more to these old Greeks than to any other people upon the earth. Now you must remember one thing, that Greeks was not their real name. They called themselves always Helens, but the Romans miscalled them Greeks, and we have taken that wrong name from the Romans. It would take a long time to tell you why. They were made up of many tribes in many small separate states, and when you hear in this book of Minui and Athenians and other such names, you must remember that they were all different tribes and peoples of the one great Helen race, who lived in what we now call Greece, in the islands of the archipelago and along the coast of Asia Minor, Ionia as they call it, from the Hellespont to Rhodes, and had afterwards colonies and cities in Sicily and South Italy, which was called Great Greece, and along the shores of the Black Sea at Sinoe and Kirch and at Sevastopol. And after that again they spread under Alexander the Great, and conquered Egypt and Syria and Persia and the whole East. But that was many hundred years after my stories, for then there were no Greeks on the Black Seashores, nor in Sicily or Italy, or anywhere but in Greece and in Ionia. And if you are puzzled by the names of places in this book, you must take the maps and find them out. It would be a pleasanter way of learning geography than out of a dull lesson book. Now I love these old Helens heartily, and I should be very ungrateful to them if I did not, considering all that they have taught me, and they seem to me like others, though they have all been dead and gone many hundred years ago. So as you must learn about them, whether you choose or not, I wish to be the first to introduce you to them and to say, Come hither children, at this blessed Christmas time, when all God's creatures should rejoice together, and bless him who redeemed them all. Come and see old friends of mine, whom I knew long ere you were born. They are come to visit us at Christmas, out of the world where all live to God, and to tell you some of their old fairy tales which they loved when they were young like you. For nations begin at first by being children like you, though they are made up of grown men. They are children at first like you, men and women with children's hearts, frank and affectionate and full of trust and teachable, and loving to see and learn all the wonders round them, and greedy also, too often, and passionate and silly as children are. Thus these old Greeks were teachable, and learned from all the nations round. From the Phoenicians they learnt shipbuilding, and some say letters beside, and from the Assyrians they learnt painting, and carving, and building in wood and stone, and from the Egyptians they learnt astronomy, and many things which you would not understand. From this they were like our own forefathers the Northmen, of whom you love to hear, who though they were wild and rough themselves, were humble and glad to learn from everyone. Therefore God rewarded these Greeks, as he rewarded our forefathers and made them wiser than the people who taught them in everything they learnt, for he loves to see men and children open-hearted, and willing to be taught, and to him who uses what he has got, he gives more and more day by day. So these Greeks grew wise and powerful, and wrote poems which will live till the world's end, which you must read for yourselves some day, in English at least, if not in Greek. And they learnt to carve statues and build temples, which are still among the wonders of the world, and many another wonders thing God taught them, for which we are the wiser this day. For you must not fancy children that because these old Greeks were heathens, therefore God did not care for them and taught them nothing. The Bible tells us that it was not so, but that God's mercy is over all his works, and that he understands the hearts of all people, and fashions all their works. And St. Paul told these old Greeks in after times, when they had grown wicked and fallen low, that they ought to have known better, because they were God's offspring. As their own poets had said, and that the good God had put them where they were to seek the Lord, and fill after him, and find him, though he was not far from any one of them. And Clement of Alexandria, the great father of the church, who was as wise as he was good, said that God had sent down philosophy to the Greeks from heaven, as he sent down the gospel to the Jews. For Jesus Christ, remember, is the light who lights every man who comes into the world, and no one can think a right thought or feel a right feeling or understand the real truth of anything in earth and heaven, unless the good Lord Jesus teaches him by his spirit, which gives man understanding. But these Greeks, as St. Paul told them, forgot what God had taught them, and though they were God's offspring, worshiped idols of wood and stone, and fell at last into sin and shame, and then, of course, into cowardice and slavery, till they perished out of that beautiful land which God had given them for so many years. For like all nations who have left anything behind them, beside mere mounds of earth, they believed at first in the one true God who made all heaven and earth, but after a while, like all other nations, they began to worship other gods, or rather angels and spirits, who, so they fancied, lived about their land. Zeus, the father of gods and men, who was some damn remembrance of the blessed true God, and Hera, his wife, and Phoebus Apollo, the sun-god, and Paulus Athene, who taught men wisdom and useful arts, and Aphrodite, the queen of beauty, and Poseidon, the ruler of the sea, and Hephaistos, the king of the fire, who taught men to work in metals, and they honored the gods of the rivers and the nymph-maids, who they fancied lived in the caves and the fountains and the glens of the forest and all beautiful wild places, and they honored the erinous, the dreadful sisters, who they thought haunted guilty men until their sins were purged away, and many other dreams they had, which parted the one god into many, and they said, too, that these gods did things which would be a shame and sin for any man to do, and when their philosophers arose and told them that God was one, they would not listen, but love their idols, and their wicked idol-feast, till they all came to ruin. But we will talk of such sad things no more. But at the time of which this little book speaks, they had not fallen as low as that. They worshipped no idols as far as I can find, and they still believed in the last six of the Ten Commandments, and knew well what was right and what was wrong, and they believed, and that was what gave them courage, that the gods loved men and taught them, and that without the gods men were sure to come to ruin, and in that they were right enough as we know. More right even than they thought, for without God we can do nothing, and all wisdom comes from him. Now you must not think of them in this book as learned men, living in great cities, such as they were afterwards, when they wrought all their beautiful works, but as country people, living in farms and walled villages, in a simple, hard-working way, so that the greatest kings and heroes cooked their own meals, and thought it no shame, and made their own ships and weapons, and fed and harnessed their own horses. And the queens worked with their maid servants, and did all the business of the house, and spun, and wove, and embroidered, and made their husbands clothes and their own, so that a man was honored among them, not because he happened to be rich, but according to his skill, and his strength, and courage, and the number of things which he could do, for they were but grown-up children, though they were right noble children, too. And it was with them, as it is now at school, the strongest and cleverest boy, though he be poor, leads all the rest. Now while they were young and simple, they loved fairy tales as you do now. All nations do so when they are young. Our old forefathers did, and called their stories sagas. I will read you some of them some day, some of the Eddas, and the Velospia, and Beowulf, and the noble old romances. The old Arabs, again, had their tales, which we now call the Arabian Knights. The old Romans had theirs, and they called them Fabula, from which our word fable comes. But the old Helens called theirs Muthwa, from which our new word myth is taken. But next to those old romances, which were written in the Christian middle age, there are no fairy tales like these old Greek ones, for beauty, and wisdom, and truth, and for making children love noble deeds, and trusting God to help them through. Now why I have called this book the Heroes? Because that was the name which the Helens gave to the men who were brave and skillful, and dare do more than other men. At first, I think, that was all it meant, but after a time it came to mean something more. It came to mean men who helped their country. Men in those old times, when the country was half-wild, who killed fierce beasts and evil men, and drained swamps and founded towns, and therefore, after they were dead, were honored, because they had left their country better than they found it. And we call such a man a hero in English to this day, and call it a heroic thing to suffer pain and grief, that we may do good to our fellow men. We may all do that, my children, boys and girls alike, and we ought to do it, for it is easier now than ever, and safer, and the path more clear. But you shall hear how the Helens said their heroes worked, three thousand years ago. The stories are not all true, of course, nor half of them. You are not simple enough to fancy that, but the meaning of them is true, and true forever, and that is, do right, and God will help you. Farley Court, Advent, 1855 Postscript I owe an apology to the few scholars who may happen to read this hasty jude spree, for the inconsistent method in which I have spelt Greek names. The rule which I have tried to follow has been this. When the word has been hopelessly Latinized as Phoebus has been, I have left it as it usually stands. But in other cases I have tried to keep the plain Greek spelling, except when it would have seemed pedantic, or when as in the word typhus I should have given an altogether wrong notion of the sound of the word. It has been a choice of difficulties, which has been forestoned me by our strange habit of introducing boys to the Greek myths not in their original shape, but in a Roman disguise. End of Preface. Part one of Perseus from The Heroes. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Kara Schellenberg. The Heroes, or Greek fairy tales for my children, by Charles Kingsley. Part one of Perseus. How Perseus and his mother came to Seraphos. Once upon a time there were two princes who were twins. Their names were Acrezius and Proatus, and they lived in the pleasant vale of Argos, far away in Helas. They had fruitful meadows and vineyards, sheep and oxen, great herds of horses feeding down in Lernafen, and all that men could need to make them blessed, and yet they were wretched because they were jealous of each other. From the moment they were born they began to quarrel, and when they grew up each tried to take away the other share of the kingdom and keep all for himself. So first Acrezius drove out Proatus, and he went across the seas and brought home a foreign princess for his wife and foreign warriors to help him, who were called Cyclopes, and drove out Acrezius in his turn, and then they fought a long while up and down the land till the quarrel was settled, and Acrezius took Argos and one half of the land, and Proatus took Tyrans and the other half, and Proatus and his Cyclopes built around Tyrans great walls of unhewn stone, which are standing to this day. But there came a prophet to that hard-hearted Acrezius and prophesied against him, and said, Because you have risen up against your own blood, your own blood shall rise up against you. Because you have sinned against your kindred, by your kindred you shall be punished. Your daughter Dene shall bear a son, and by that son's hands you shall die, so the gods have ordained, and it will surely come to pass. And at that Acrezius was very much afraid, but he did not mend his ways. He had been cruel to his own family, and instead of repenting and being kind to them, he went on to be more cruel than ever, for he shut up his fair daughter Dene in a cavern underground, lined with brass, that no one might come near her. So he fancied himself more cunning than the gods, but you will see presently whether he was able to escape them. Now it came to pass that in time Dene bore a son, so beautiful a babe that any but King Acrezius would have had pity on it. But he had no pity, for he took Dene and her babe down to the seashore, and put them into a great chest, and thrust them out to sea, for the winds and the waves to carry them wither so ever they would. The north-west wind blew freshly out of the blue mountains, and down the pleasant veil of Argos, and away and out to sea, and away and out to sea before it floated the mother and her babe, while all who watched them wept, save that cruel father King Acrezius. So they floated on and on, and the chest danced up and down upon the billows, and the baby slept upon its mother's breast, but the poor mother could not sleep but watched and wept, and she sang to her baby as they floated, and the song which she sang you shall learn yourself some day. And now they are past the last blue headland, and in the open sea, and there is nothing round them but the waves, and the sky and the wind. But the waves are gentle, and the sky is clear, and the breeze is tender and low, for these are the days when Halcyon and Saix built their nests, and no storms ever ruffled the pleasant summer sea. And who were Halcyon and Saix? You shall hear while the chest floats on. Halcyon was a fairy maiden, the daughter of the beach and of the wind, and she loved a sailor boy, and married him, and none on earth were so happy as they. But at last Saix was wrecked, and before he could swim to the shore the billows swallowed him up, and Halcyon saw him drowning and leapt into the sea to him, but in vain. Then the immortals took pity on them both, and changed them into two fair sea-birds, and now they build a floating nest every year, and sail up and down happily for ever upon the pleasant seas of Greece. So a night passed, and a day, and a long day it was for Dene, and another night and day beside, till Dene was faint with hunger and weeping, and yet no land appeared. And all the while the babes slept quietly, and at last poor Dene drooped her head, and fell asleep likewise with her cheek against the babes. After a while she was awakened suddenly, for the chest was jarring and grinding, and the air was full of sound. She looked up, and over her head were mighty cliffs, all red in the setting sun, and around her rocks and breakers, and flying flakes of foam. She clasped her hands together and shrieked aloud for help, and when she cried, help met her. For now there came over the rocks a tall and stately man, and looked down wondering upon poor Dene tossing about in the chest among the waves. He wore a rough cloak of frieze, and on his head a broad hat to shade his face. In his hand he carried a trident for spearing fish, and over his shoulder was a casting net. Dene could see that he was no common man by his stature and his walk, and his flowing golden hair and beard, and by the two servants who came behind him carrying baskets for his fish. But she had hardly time to look at him before he had laid aside his trident and leapt down the rocks, and thrown his casting net so surely over Dene and the chest that he drew it and her and the baby safe upon a ledge of rock. Then the fisherman took Dene by the hand and lifted her out of the chest and said, Oh, beautiful damsel, what strange chance has brought you to this island in so frail a ship! Who are you and whence? Surely you are some king's daughter, and this boy has somewhat more than mortal. And as he spoke he pointed to the babe for its face shown like the morning star. But Dene only held down her head and sobbed out, Tell me to what land I have come, unhappy that I am, and among what men I have fallen. And he said, This isle is called Seraphos, and I am a Helen and dwell in it. I am the brother of Polydectes the king, and men call me Dictes the Netter because I catch the fish of the shore. Then Dene fell down at his feet and embraced his knees and cried, Oh, sir, have pity upon a stranger whom a cruel doom has driven to your land, and let me live in your house as a servant, but treat me honorably for I was once a king's daughter, and this my boy, as you have truly said, is of no common race. I will not be a charge to you or eat the bread of idleness, for I am more skillful in weaving and embroidery than all the maidens of my land. And she was going on, but Dictes stopped her and raised her up and said, My daughter, I am old, and my hairs are growing gray. Will I have no children to make my home cheerful? Come with me then, and you shall be a daughter to me and to my wife, and this babe shall be our grandchild, for I fear the gods and show hospitality to all strangers, knowing that good deeds, like evil ones, always return to those who do them. So Dene was comforted, and went home with Dictes the good fisherman, and was a daughter to him and to his wife, till fifteen years were passed. End of Part 1 of Perseus. According to Colin McRoberts, the heroes, or Greek fairy tales for my children, by Charles Kingsley, Part 2 of Perseus, how Perseus vowed a rash vow. The heroes, or Greek fairy tales for my children, by Charles Kingsley, Part 2, how Perseus vowed a rash vow. Ten years were passed and gone, and the babe was now grown to be a tall lad and a sailor, and went many voyages after merchandise to the island's round. His mother called him Perseus, but all the people in Saraphos said that he was not the son of mortal man, and called him the son of Zeus, the king of mortals. For though he was but fifteen, he was taller by a head than any man on the island, and he was the most skillful all in running, and wrestling, and boxing, and in throwing the coit and the chaplain, and in rowing with the oar, and in playing on the harp, and in all which benefits a man. And he was brave and truthful. Gentle and courteous, for good old Dictus had trained him well, and well it was for Perseus that he had done so. For now Danae and her son fell into great danger, and Perseus had need of all his wit to defend his mother and himself. I said that Dictus's brother was Paladentis, king of the island. He was not a righteous man like Dictus, but greedy and cunning and cruel. And when he saw Faradayne, he wanted to marry her, but she would not, for she did not love him, and cared for no one but her boy and her boy's father, whom she never hoped to see again. At last Paladictis became furious, and while Perseus was away at sea, he took poor Danae away from Dictus, saying, If you will not be my wife, you shall be my slave. So Danae was made a slave, and had to fetch water from the well, and grind in the mill, and perhaps was beaten, and were a heavy chain, because she would not marry the cruel king. But Perseus was far away over the sea in the isle of Samos, little thinking of how his mother was languishing in grief. Now one day at Samos, while the ship was lading, Perseus wandered into a pleasant wood to get out of the sun, and sat down on the turf, and fell asleep. And as he slept, a strange dream came to him, the strangest dream which he had ever had in his life. There came a lady to him through the wood, taller than he, or any mortal man, but beautiful exceedingly, with great gray eyes, clear and piercing, but strangely soft in mind. On her head was a helmet, and in her hand a spear, and over her shoulder, above her long blue robes, hung a goat skin, which bore up a mighty shield of brass. Polished like a mirror, she stood and looked at him with her clear gray eyes, and Perseus saw that her eyelids never moved, nor her eyeballs, but looked straight through, and through him and into his very heart, as if she could see all the secrets of his soul, and knew all that he had ever thought or longed for since the day that he was born. And Perseus dropped his eyes, trembling and blushing, as the wonderful lady spoke, Perseus, you must do an errand for me. Who are you, lady? And how do you know my name? I am Pallas Athenae, and I know the thoughts of all men's hearts, and discern their manhood, or their baseness, and from the souls of clay I turn away, and they are blessed, but not by me. They fatten at ease, like sheep in the pasture, and eat what they did not sow, like oxen in the stall, they grow and spread, like a gourd along the ground, but, like the gourd, they give no shade to the travel, and when they are right, death gathers them, and they go down, unloved into hell, and their name vanishes out of the land. Like to the souls of fire, I give more fire, and to those who are manful, I give a might more than man's. These are the heroes, the sons of the immortals, who are blessed, but not like the souls of clay, for I drive them forth by strange paths, Perseus, that they may fight the titans and the monsters, the enemies of gods and men, through doubt and need, danger and battle, I drive them. And some of them are slain in the flower of youth. No man knows when or where, and some of them win noble names, and a fair and green old age, but what will be their latter end? I know not, and none save Zeus, the father of gods and men. Tell me now, Perseus, which of these two sorts of men seem to you more blessed than Perseus answered boldly, better to die in the flower of youth, on the chance of winning a noble name, than to live at ease, like the sheep and die of unlove and unrenowned. Then the strange lady laughed, and held up her brazen shield, and said, See here, Perseus, dare you face such a monster as this, and slay it, that I may place its head upon this shield? And in the mirror of the shield there appeared a face, and as Perseus looked on it, his blood ran cold. It was the face of a beautiful woman, but her cheeks were pale as death, and her brows were knit with everlasting pain, and her lips were thin and bitter, like a snake's, and instead of hair, fibers wreathed about her temples, and shot out their forked tongues, while round her head were folded wings, like in eagles, and upon her bosom claws of brass. And Perseus looked awhile, and said, If there is anything so fierce and foul on earth, it were a noble deed to kill it. Where can I find the monster? Then the strange lady smiled again, and said, Not yet, you are too young and too unskilled, for this is Medusa, the Gorgon, the mother of a monstrous brood. Return to your home, and do the work which waits there for you. You must play the man in that before I can think you worthy to go in search of the Gorgon. Then Perseus would have spoken, but the strange lady vanished, and he awoke, and behold it was a dream. But day and night Perseus saw before him the face of that dreadful one, with the vipers writhing round her head. So he returned home, and when he came to Seraphus, the first thing which he heard was that his mother was a slave in the house of Polydictes. Grinding his teeth with rage, he went out in a way to the king's palace, and through the men's rooms and the women's rooms, and so through all the house, for no one dared stop him, so terrible and fair was he, till he found his mother sitting on the floor, turning the stone hand melt, and weeping as she turned it. And he lifted her up and kissed her, and bade her follow him forth. But before they could pass out of the room, Polydictes came at raging, and when Perseus saw him, he flew upon him as the mastiff flies on the board. Villain and tyrant he cried, is this your respect for the gods, and thy mercy to strangers and widows? You shall die, and because he had no sword, he caught up the stone hand melt, and lifted it to dash out Polydictes' brains. But his mother clung to him, shrieking, oh, my son, we are strangers and helpless in the land, and if you kill the king, all the people will fall on us, and we shall both die. Good Dictes, too, who had come in and treated him, remember that he is my brother, remember how I have brought you up, and trained you as my own son, and spare him from my sake. Perseus lowered his hand and Polydictes, who had been trembling all this while like a coward, because he knew that he was in the wrong, but Perseus and his mother pass. Perseus took his mother to the temple of Athena, and there the priestess made her one of the temple sweepers, for there they knew she would be safe, and not even Polydictes would dare to drag her away from the altar, and there Perseus and the good Dictes and his wife came to visit her every day, while Polydictes, not being able to get what he wanted by force, cast about in his wicked heart how he might get it by cunning. Now he was sure that he could never get back Danae, as long as Perseus was in the island, so he made a plot to rid himself of him, and first he pretended to have forgiven Perseus, and to have forgiven Danae, so that for a while all went as smoothly as ever. Next he proclaimed a great feast, and invited to it all the chiefs and landowners and young men of the island, and among them Perseus, that they might all do him homage as their king, and eat of his banquet in his hall. On the appointed day they all came, and as the custom was, then each guest brought his present with him to the king. One a horse, another a shawl, or a ring or a sword, and those who had nothing better brought a basket of grapes or a game, but Perseus brought nothing, for he had nothing to bring, being but a poor sailorland. He was ashamed, however, to go into the king's presence without his gift, and he was too proud to ask Dictus to lend him one. So he stood at the door sorrowfully, watching the rich men go in, and his face grew very red as they pointed at him, and smiled and whispered, What has that found length to give? Now this was what Polydictus wanted, and as soon as he heard that Perseus stood without, he bade them, bring him in, and asked him scornfully before them all, Am I not your king, Perseus? And have I not invited you to my feast? Where is your present, then? Perseus blushed in the stammer, while all the proud men round laughed, and some of them began jeering him openly. This fellow was thrown ashore here, like a piece of weed, or drift, and yet he is too proud to bring a gift to the king, and though he does not know who his father is, he is vain enough to let the old woman call him the son of Zeus, and so forth till poor Perseus grew mad with shame, and hardly knowing what he said cried out, A present? Who are you who talk of presence? See if I do not bring a nobler one than all of yours together. So he said boasting, and yet he felt in his heart that he was braver than all those scoffers, and more able to do some glorious deed. Hear him, hear the boaster, what is it to be? cried they all, laughing louder than ever. Then his dream at Samos came into his mind, and he cried aloud, the head of the gargant. He was half afraid, after he had said these words, for all laughed louder than ever, and Paul addictes, loudest of all. You have promised to bring me a gorgon's head, then never appear again in this island without it. Go, Perseus ground his teeth with rage, for he saw that he had fallen into a trap. But his promise lay upon him, and he went out without a word. Down to the cliffs he went, and looked across the broad blue sea, and he wondered if his dream were true, and prayed in the bitterness of his soul. Was my dream true, and shall I slay the gorgon? If thou didst really show me her face, let me not come to shame as a liar and boastful. Rashly and angrily I promised, but cunningly, patiently, will I perform. There was no answer, nor sign, neither thunder, nor any appearance, not even a cloud in the sky. And three times, Perseus called weeping. Rashly and angrily I promised, but cunningly and patiently will I perform. Then he saw afar above the sea a small white cloud as bright as silver, and it came on nearer and nearer till its brightness dazzled his eyes. Perseus wondered at the strange cloud, for there was no other cloud all around the sky, and he trembled as he touched the cliff below, and as it touched it broke and parted, and within it appeared Pallas Athenae, as he had seen her at Samos in the dream, and beside her a young man, more light-limb than the stag, whose eyes were like sparks of fire. By his side was a scimitar of diamond, all of one clear precious stone, and on his feet were golden sandals, from the heels of which grew living wings. They looked upon Perseus keenly, and yet they never moved their eyes, and they came up the cliffs toward him more swiftly than the seagull, and yet they never moved their feet, nor did the breeze stir the robes around their limbs. Only the wings of the youth's sandals quivered, like a hawks was over the cliff, and Perseus fell down in worship, for he knew that they were more than man. But Athenae stood before him, and spoke gently, and bid him have no fear. Then Perseus, she said, he who overcomes in one trial, merits thereby a sharper trial still. You have brave Polydictes, and done manfully. Dare you brave Medusa the Gorgon, and Perseus said, try me, for since you spoke to me in Samos, a new soul has come into my breast, and I should be ashamed not to dare anything which I can do. Show me then how I can do this. Perseus said, Athenae, think well before you attempt, for this deed requires a seven years journey in which you cannot repent or turn back or escape. But if your heart fails you, you must die in the unshapen land, where no man will ever find your bones. Better so than live here, useless and despised, said Perseus. Tell me then, oh tell me, fair and wise goddess, of your great kindness and condensation. How can I do but this one thing, and then, if need be, died. Then Athenae smiled and said, be patient, and listen, for if you forget my words, you will indeed die. You must go northward to the country of the Hyperborians, who live beyond the pole at the sources of the cold north wind, till you find the three grey sisters, who have but one eye and one tooth between them. You must ask them the way to the nymphs and daughters of the evening star, who dance about the golden tree and the Atlantic island of the west. They will tell you the way to the Gorgon that you may slay her, my enemy, the mother of monstrous beasts. Once she was a maiden, as beautiful as more, till in her pride she sinned to sin, at which the sun hit its face, and from that day her hair was turned to vipers, and her hands to eagle's claws, and her heart was filled with shame and rage, and her lips with bitter venom, and her eyes became so terrible that whosoever looks on them is turned to stone, and her children are the winged horse, and the giant of the golden sword, and her grandchildren are Echidna, the witch-adder, and Garian, the three-headed tyrant, who feeds its herds outside the herds of hell. So she became the sister of the Gorgons, Stheno and Eurot, the Abhorred, the daughters of the queen of the sea. Touch them not, for they are immortal, but bring me only Medusa's head, and I will bring it, said Perseus. But how am I to escape their eyes? Will she not freeze me, too, into stone? You shall take this polished shield, setathene, and when you come near her, look not at her herself, but at her image in the grass, so that you may strike her safely, and when you have struck off her head, wrap it with your face turned away in the folds of the goat's skin, on which the shield hangs, the hide of Amalthie, the nurse of the Aegis Holder, so you will bring it safely back to me, and when to yourself renown, and to place among the heroes who feast with the immortals upon the peak, where no winds blow, then Perseus said, I will go, though I die in going, but how shall I cross the sea without a ship, and who will show me my way? And when I find her, how shall I slay her? If her scales be iron and brass, then the young man spoke. These sandals of mine will bear you across the seas, and over hill and dale like a bird, as they bear me all day long, for I am Hermes, the far-famed Arguslayer, the messenger of the immortals, who dwelt an Olympus, and Perseus fell down and worshipped, while the young man spoke again. The sandals themselves will guide you on the road, for they are divine, and cannot stray, and this sword itself, the Arguslayer, will kill her, for it is divine, and needs no second stroke. Arise and gird them on, and go forth, so Perseus arose, and girded on the sandals of the sword, and Athena cried, Now leap from the cliff, and be gone, but Perseus lingered. May I not bid farewell to my mother and to Dictus, and may I not offer burnt offerings to you and to Hermes, the far-famed Arguslayer, and to Father Zeus above. You shall not bid farewell to your mother, lest your heart relent in her weeping. I will comfort her and Dictus until you return in peace, nor shall you offer burnt offerings to the Olympians, for your offering shall be Medusa's head. Leap and trust in the armor of the Immortals. Then Perseus looked down the cliff and shuddered, but it was ashamed to show his dread. Then he thought of Medusa and the renown before him, and he leaped into the empty air. And behold, instead of falling, he floated, and stood, and ran along the sky. He looked back, but Athenae had vanished, and Hermes and the sandals led him on northward ever, like a crane who follows the spring toward the esterfens. End of part two of Perseus. Part three of Perseus from The Heroes. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Heroes, or Greek fairy tales for my children, by Charles Kingsley. Part three, How Perseus Slew the Gorgon. So Perseus started on his journey, going dryshod over land and sea, and his heart was high and joyful. For the winged sandals bore him each day a seven-days journey. And he went by Synthesis and by Seos, and the pleasant Cyclides to Attica, and past Athens and Thebes, and the Copiac Lake, and up the veil of Cephasus, and past the peaks of Oita and Pindus, and over the rich Thessalian plains, till the sunny hills of Greece were behind him, and before him were the wilds of the north. Then he passed the Thracian Mountains, and many a barbarous tribe, Pians, and Dardens, and Triboli, till he came to the Ister Stream, and the dreary Scythian Plains. And he walked across the Ister dryshod, and away through the moors and fends, day and night toward the bleak northwest, turning neither to the right hand nor the left, till he came to the unshapen land, and the place which has no name. And seven days he walked through it, on a path which few can tell, for those who have trodden it, like least to speak of it, and those who go there again in dreams are glad enough when they awake. Till he came to the edge of the everlasting night, where the air was full of feathers, and the soil was hard with ice, and there at last he found the three gray sisters by the shore of the freezing sea, nodding upon a white log of driftwood, beneath the cold white winter moon, and they chanted a low song together, why the old times were better than the new. There was no living thing around them, not a fly, not a moss upon the rocks, neither seal nor seagull dare come near, lest the ice should clutch them in its claws, the surge broke up in foam, but it fell again in flakes of snow, and it frosted the hair of the three gray sisters, and the bones of the ice-cliffs above their heads. They passed the eye from one to the other, but for all that they could not see, and they passed the tooth from one to the other, but for all that they could not eat, and they sat in the full glare of the moon, but they were none the warmer for her beams, and Perseus pitied the three gray sisters, but they did not pity themselves. So he said, O venerable mothers, wisdom is the daughter of old age, you therefore should know many things, tell me if you can the path to the Gorgon. Then one cried, Who is this who reproaches us with old age? And another, This is the voice of one of the children of men. And he, I do not reproach but honor your old age, and I am one of the sons of men and of the heroes. The rulers of Olympus have sent me to you to ask the way to the Gorgon. Then one, There are new rulers in Olympus, and all new things are bad. And another, We hate your rulers and the heroes and all the children of men. We are the kindred of the titans and the giants and the Gorgons and the ancient monsters of the deep. And another, Who is this rash and insolent man who pushes unbidden into our world? And the first, There never was such a world as ours nor will be. If we let him see it, he will spoil it all. Then one cried, Give me the eye that I may see him. And another, Give me the tooth that I may bite him. But Perseus, when he saw that they were foolish and proud, and did not love the children of men, left off pitying them, and said to himself, Hungry men must needs be hasty. If I stay making many words here, I shall be starved. Then he stopped close to them, and watched till they passed the eye from hand to hand, and as they groped about between themselves, he held out his own hand gently, till one of them put the eye into it, fancying that it was the hand of her sister. Then he sprang back and laughed and cried, Cruel and proud old women, I have your eye, and I will throw it into the sea unless you tell me the path to the Gorgon, and swear to me that you will tell me right. Then they wept and chattered and scolded, but in vain they were forced to tell the truth, though when they told it, Perseus could hardly make out the road. You must go, they said, foolish boy, to the southward, into the ugly glare of the sun, till you come to Atlas the giant, who holds the heaven and the earth apart, and you must ask his daughters the Hesperides, who are young and foolish like yourself. And now give us back our eye, for we have forgotten all the rest. So Perseus gave them back their eye, but instead of using it, they nodded and fell fast asleep, and were turned into blocks of ice, till the tide came up and washed them all away. And now they float up and down like icebergs forever, weeping whenever they meet the sunshine, and the fruitful summer, and the warm south wind, which fill young hearts with joy. But Perseus leaped away to the southward, leaving the snow and ice behind, past the isle of the hyperborians and the tin isles, and the long Iberian shore, while the sun rose higher day by day upon a bright blue summer sea, and the terns and the seagulls swept laughing round his head, and called him to stop and play, and the dolphins gambled up as he passed and offered to carry him on their backs. And all night long the sea-nymphs sang sweetly, and the tritons blew upon their conks, as they played round Galatia their queen, in her car of purled shells. Day by day the sun rose higher, and leaped more swiftly into the sea at night, and more swiftly out of the sea at dawn, while Perseus skimmed over the billows like a seagull, and his feet were never wetted, and lept from wave to wave, and his limbs were never weary till he saw far away a mighty mountain, all rose red in the setting sun. Its feet were wrapped in forests, and its head in wreaths of cloud, and Perseus knew that it was Atlas, who holds the heavens and the earth apart. He came to the mountain and lept on shore, and wandered upward among pleasant valleys and waterfalls, and tall trees and strange ferns and flowers, but there was no smoke rising from any glen, nor house, nor sign of man. At last he heard sweet voices singing, and he guessed that he was come to the garden of the nymphs, the daughters of the evening star. They sang like nightingales among the thickets, and Perseus stopped to hear their song, but the words which they spoke he could not understand. No, nor no man after him for many a hundred years. So he stepped forward and saw them dancing, hand in hand around the charmed tree which bent under its golden fruit, and round the tree-foot was coiled the dragon, old Leydon, the sleepless snake, who lies there forever, listening to the song of the maidens, blinking and watching with dry bright eyes. Then Perseus stopped, not because he feared the dragon, but because he was bashful before those fair maids. But when they saw him they too stopped, and called to him with trembling voices. Who are you? Are you Heracles the Mighty, who will come to rob our garden and carry off our golden fruit? And he answered, I am not Heracles the Mighty, and I want none of your golden fruit. Tell me, fair nymphs, the way which leads to the gorgon, that I may go on my way and slay her. Not yet, not yet, fair boy, come dance with us around the tree in the garden which knows no winter, the home of the south wind and the sun. Come hither and play with us a while. We have danced alone here for a thousand years, and our hearts are weary with longing for a play-fellow. So come, come, come. I cannot dance with you, fair maidens, for I must do the errand of the immortals. So tell me the way to the gorgon, lest I wander and perish in the waves. Then they sighed and wept, and answered, the gorgon, she will freeze you into stone. It is better to die like a hero than to live like an ox in a stall. The immortals have lent me weapons, and they will give me wit to use them. Then they sighed again and answered, fair boy, if you are bent on your own ruin, be it so. We know not the way to the gorgon, but we will ask the giant Atlas, above upon the mountain peak, the brother of our father, the silver evening star. He sits aloft and sees across the ocean and far away into the unshapen land. So they went up to the mountain to Atlas their uncle, and Perseus went up with them, and they found the giant kneeling as he held the heavens and the earth apart. They asked him, and he answered mildly, pointing to the seaboard with his mighty hand. I can see the gorgons lying on an island far away, but this youth can never come near them unless he has the hat of darkness, which whosoever wears cannot be seen. Then cried Perseus, where is that hat that I may find it? But the giant smiled. No living mortal can find that hat, for it lies in the depths of Hades, in the regions of the dead. But my nieces are immortal, and they shall fetch it for you, if you will promise me one thing and keep your faith. Then Perseus promised, and the giant said, When you come back with the head of Medusa, you shall show me the beautiful horror that I may lose my feeling and my breathing and become a stone forever, for it is weary labor for me to hold the heavens and the earth apart. Then Perseus promised, and the eldest of the nymphs went down and into a dark cavern among the cliffs, out of which came smoke and thunder, for it was one of the mouths of hell. And Perseus and the nymphs sat down seven days and waited trembling till the nymph came up again, and her face was pale, and her eyes dazzled with the light, for she had been long in the weary darkness, but in her hand was the magic hat. Then all the nymphs kissed Perseus and wept over him a long while, but he was only impatient to be gone, and at last they put the hat upon his head, and he vanished out of their sight. But Perseus went on boldly, past many an ugly sight, far away into the heart of the unshapen land, beyond the streams of ocean, to the aisles where no ship cruises, where is neither night nor day, where nothing is in its right place, and nothing has a name, till he heard the rustle of the Gorgon's wings, and saw the glitter of their brazen talons. And then he knew it was time to halt, lest Medusa should freeze him into stone. He thought a while with himself and remembered Athene's words. He rose aloft into the air, and held the mirror of the shield above his head, and looked up into it that he might see all that was below him, and he saw the three Gorgons sleeping as huge as elephants. He knew that they could not see him because the hat of darkness hid him, and yet he trembled, and he sank down near them so terrible were those brazen claws. Two of the Gorgons were foul as swine, and lay sleeping heavily as swine sleep with their mighty wings outspread. But Medusa tossed to and fro restlessly, and as she tossed, Perseus pitied her. She looked fair and sad. Her plumage was like the rainbow, and her face was the face of a nymph. Only her eyebrows were knit, and her lips clenched, with everlasting care and pain, and her long neck gleamed so white in the mirror that Perseus had not the heart to strike, and said, Ah, that it had been either of her sisters. But as he looked, from among her tresses the viper's heads awoke, and peeped up with their bright dry eyes and showed their fangs and hissed. And Medusa, as she tossed, threw back her wings and showed her brazen claws. And Perseus saw that for all her beauty she was as foul and venomous as the rest. Then he came down and stepped to her boldly, and looked steadfastly on his mirror, and struck with herpy stoutly once, and he did not need to strike again. Then he wrapped the head in the goat's skin, turning away his eyes, and sprang into the air aloft, faster than he ever sprang before. For Medusa's wings and talons rattled as she sank dead upon the rocks, and her two foul sisters woke, and saw her lying dead. Into the air they sprang yelling, and looked for him who had done the deed. Thrice they swung round and round like hawks who beat for a partridge, and thrice they snuffed round and round like hounds who draw upon a deer. At last they struck upon the scent of the blood, and they checked for a moment to make sure, and then on they rushed with a fearful howl, while the wind rattled horse in their wings. On they rushed, sweeping and flapping like eagles after a hare, and Perseus's blood ran cold for all his courage, as he saw them come howling on his track, and he cried, Bear me well now, brave sandals, for the hounds of death are at my heels. And well the brave sandals bore him aloft through the cloud and sunshine, across the shoreless sea, and fast followed the hounds of death, as the roar of their wings came down the wind. But the roar came down fainter and fainter, and the howl of their voices died away. For the sandals were too swift even for the gorgons, and by nightfall they were far behind, two black specks in the southern sky, till the sun sank and he saw them no more. Then he came again to Atlas and the Garden of the Nymphs, and when the giant heard him coming, he groaned and said, Fulfill thy promise to me. Then Perseus held up to him the gorgon's head, and he had rest from all his toil, for he became a crag of stone, which sleeps forever far above the clouds. Then he thanked the nymphs and asked them, By what road shall I go homeward again, for I wandered far round in coming hither? And they wept and cried, Go home no more, but stay and play with us, the lonely maidens who dwell forever far away from gods and men. But he refused, and they told him his road, and said, Take with you this magic fruit, which, if you eat once, you will not hunger for seven days. For you must go eastward and eastward ever over the doleful Libyan shore which Poseidon gave to Father Zeus when he burst open the Bosphorus and the Helispont, and drowned the fair Lectonian land. And Zeus took that land in exchange, a fair bargain, much bad ground for a little good, and to this day it lies waste and desert with shingle and rock and sand. Then they kissed Perseus and wept over him, and he leapt down the mountain, and went on, lessening and lessening, like a seagull away and out to sea. End of Part 3 of Perseus. Recording by Tisto, T-Y-S-T-O dot com. Part 4 of Perseus from The Heroes. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Heroes, or Greek Fairy Tales for My Children, by Charles Kingsley. Part 4, How Perseus Came to the Ethiopes. So Perseus flitted onward to the northeast over many a league of sea, till he came to the rolling sandhills and the dreary Libyan shore. And he flitted on, across the desert, over rock ledges and banks of shingle, and level wastes of sand and shell drifts, bleaching in the sunshine, and the skeletons of great sea monsters, and dead bones of ancient giants, strewn up and down upon the old sea floor. And as he went, the blood drops fell to the earth from the Gorgon's head, and became poisonous asps and adders, which breed in the desert to this day. Over the sands he went, he never knew how far or how long, feeding on the fruit which the nymphs had given him, till he saw the hills of the silly, and the dwarfs who fought with cranes. Their spears were of reeds and rushes, and their houses of the eggshells of the cranes. And Perseus laughed and went his way to the northeast, hoping all day long to see the blue Mediterranean sparkling that he might fly across it to his home. But now came down a mighty wind, and swept him back southward toward the desert. All day long he strove against it, but even the winged sandals could not prevail. So he was forced to float down the wind all night, and when the morning dawned, there was nothing to be seen save the same old hateful waste of sand. And out of the north, the sandstorms rushed upon him, blood-red pillars and wreaths, blotting out the noonday sun, and Perseus fled before them, lest he should be choked by the burning dust. At last the gale fell calm, and he tried to go northward again, but again came down the sandstorms, and swept him back into the waste, and then all was calm and cloudless as before. Seven days he strove against the storms, and seven days he was driven back, till he was spent with thirst and hunger, and his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. Here and there he fancied that he saw a fair lake, and the sunbeams shining on the water. But when he came to it, it vanished at his feet, and there was not but burning sand. And if he had not been of the race of the immortals, he would have perished in this waste, but his life was strong within him, because it was more than man's. Then he cried to Athenae, and said, O fair and pure, if thou hearest me, will thou leave me here to die of drought? I have brought thee the Gorgon's head at thy bidding, and hitherto thou hast prospered my journey. Dost thou desert me at the last? Else why will not these immortal sandals prevail, even against the desert storms? Shall I never see my mother more, and the blue ripple round Seraphos, and the sunny hills of Helus? So he prayed, and after he had prayed, there was a great silence. The heaven was still above his head, and the sand was still beneath his feet, and Perseus looked up, but there was nothing but the blinding sun in the blinding blue. And round him, but there was nothing but the blinding sand. And Perseus stood awhile, and waited, and said, Surely I am not here without the will of the immortals, for Athenae will not lie. Were not these sandals to lead me in the right road? Then the road in which I have tried to go must be the wrong road. Then suddenly his ears were opened, and he heard the sound of running water, and at that his heart was lifted up, though he scarcely dare believe his ears, and weary as he was he hurried forward, though he could hardly stand upright. And within a bow shot of him was a glen in the sand, and marble rocks, and date trees, and a lawn of gay green grass. And through the lawn a streamlet sparkled, and wandered out beyond the trees, and vanished in the sand. The water trickled among the rocks, and a pleasant breeze rustled in the dry date branches, and Perseus laughed for joy, and leapt down the cliff, and drank of the cool water, and ate of the dates, and slept upon the turf, and leapt up and went forward again, but not toward the north this time, for he said, Surely Athene hath sent me hither, and will not have me go homeward yet. What if there be another noble deed to be done before I see the sunny hills of Helus? So he went east and east forever by fresh oases and fountains, date palms, and lawns of grass, till he saw before him a mighty mountain wall all rose red in the setting sun. Then he towered in the air like an eagle, for his limbs were strong again, and he flew all night across the mountain till the day began to dawn, and rosy-fingered eos came blushing up the sky. And then, behold, beneath him was the long green garden of Egypt, and the shining stream of Nile. And he saw cities walled up to heaven, and temples and obelisks, and pyramids, and giant gods of stone, and he came down amid fields of barley and flax and millet, and clambering gourds, and saw the people coming out of the gates of a great city, and setting to work each in his place among the water-courses, parting the streams among the plants cunningly with their feet according to the wisdom of the Egyptians. But when they saw him they all stopped their work, and gathered round him and cried, Who art thou, fair youth, and what barest thou beneath thy goatskin there? Surely thou art one of the immortals, for thy skin is white like ivory, and ours is red like clay. Thy hair is like threads of gold, and ours is black and curled. Surely thou art one of the immortals, and they would have worshiped him then and there, but Perseus said, I am not one of the immortals, but I am a hero of the Helens, and I have slain the Gorgon in the wilderness and bear her head with me. Give me food, therefore, that I may go forward and finish my work. Then they gave him food and fruit and wine, but they would not let him go, and when the news came into the city that the Gorgon was slain, the priests came out to meet him and the maidens with songs and dances and timbrels and harps, and they would have brought him to their temple and to their king, but Perseus put on the hat of darkness and vanished away out of their sight. Therefore the Egyptians looked long for his return but in vain, and worshipped him as a hero, and made a statue of him in Chemis, which stood for many a hundred years, and they said that he appeared to them at times, with sandals a cubit long, and that whenever he appeared the season was fruitful, and the Nile rose up that year. Then Perseus went to the eastward, along the Red Sea shore, and then because he was afraid to go into the Arabian deserts, he turned northward once more, and this time no storm hindered him. He went past the Isthmus and Mount Cassius and the vast Serbonian bog, and up the shore of Palestine where the dark-faced Ethiopes dwell. He flew on past pleasant hills and valleys like Argos itself, or Lassa demon, or the fair veil of Tempe, but the lowlands were all drowned by floods and the highlands blasted by fire, and the hills heaved like a babbling cauldron before the wrath of King Poseidon, the shaker of the earth. And Perseus feared to go inland, but flew along the shore above the sea, and he went on all the day, and the sky was black with smoke, and he went on all the night, and the sky was red with flame. And at the dawn of day he looked toward the cliffs, and at the water's edge, under a black rock, he saw a white image stand. This, thought he, must surely be the statue of some sea-god. I will go near and see what kind of gods these barbarians worship. So he came near, but when he came it was no statue, but a maiden of flesh and blood, for he could see her tresses streaming in the breeze, and as he came closer still, he could see how she shrank and shivered when the waves sprinkled her with cold salt spray. Her arms were spread above her head and fastened to the rock with chains of brass, and her head drooped on her bosom, either with sleep or weariness, or grief. But now and then she looked up and wailed and called her mother, yet she did not see Perseus, for the cap of darkness was on his head. Full of pity and indignation, Perseus drew near and looked upon the maid. Her cheeks were darker than his, and her hair was blue-black like a hyacinth. But Perseus thought, I have never seen so beautiful a maiden. No, not in all our aisles. Surely she is a king's daughter. Do barbarians treat their king's daughters thus? She is too fair, at least, to have done any wrong. I will speak to her. And lifting the hat from his head he flashed into her sight. She shrieked with terror and tried to hide her face with her hair, for she could not with her hands. But Perseus cried, Do not fear me, fair one. I am a Helen and no barbarian. What cruel men have bound you. But first I will set you free. And he tore at the fetters, but they were too strong for him, while the maiden cried, Touch me not. I am accursed. Devoted as a victim to the sea gods. They will slay you if you dare to set me free. Let them try, said Perseus, and, drawing herpe from his thigh, he cut through the brass as if it had been flax. Now, he said, you belong to me, and not to the sea gods, whoever they may be. But she only called the moor on her mother. Why call you on your mother? She can be no mother to have left you here. If a bird is dropped out of the nest, it belongs to the man who picks it up. If a jewel is cast by the wayside, it is his who dare win it and wear it. As I will win you and wear you. I know now why Pallas Athene sent me hither. She sent me to gain a prize worth all my toil and more. And he clasped her in his arms and cried, Where are these sea gods, cruel and unjust, who doom fair maids to death? I carry the weapons of immortals, let them measure their strength against mine. But tell me, maiden, who you are, and what dark fate brought you here? And she answered, weeping. I am the daughter of Cepheus, king of Iopa, and my mother is Cassiopeia of the beautiful tresses. And they called me Andromeda as long as life was mine. And I stand, bound here, hapless that I am, for the sea monster's food to atone for my mother's sin. For she boasted of me once that I was fairer than Aturgatus, queen of the fishes. So she in her wrath sent the sea floods, and her brother the Fire King sent the earthquakes, and wasted all the land. And after the floods a monster bred of the slime, who devours all living things. And now he must devour me, guiltless though I am, me who never harmed a living thing, nor saw a fish upon the shore, but I gave it life and threw it back into the sea. For in our land we eat no fish, for fear of Aturgatus their queen. Yet the priests say that nothing but my blood can atone for a sin which I never committed. But Perseus laughed and said, A sea monster! I have fought with worse than him. I would have faced immortals for your sake. How much more a beast of the sea! Then Andromeda looked up at him, and new hope was kindled in her breast, so proud and fair did he stand, with one hand round her, and in the other the glittering sword. But she only sighed, and wept the more, and cried, Why will you die, young as you are? Is there not death and sorrow enough in the world already? It is noble for me to die, that I may save the lives of a whole people, but you, better than them all, why should I slay you too? Go you your way. I must go mine. But Perseus cried. Not so, for the lords of Olympus whom I serve are the friends of the heroes, and help them on to noble deeds. Led by them I slew the Gorgon, the beautiful horror, and not without them do I come hither to slay this monster with that same Gorgon's head. Yet hide your eyes when I leave you, lest the sight of it frees you too to stone. But the maiden answered nothing, for she could not believe his words, and then, suddenly looking up, she pointed to the sea and shrieked. There he comes, with the sunrise, as they promised. I must die now. How shall I endure it? Oh, go. Is it not dreadful enough to be torn piecemeal without having you to look on? And she tried to thrust him away. But he said, I go, yet promise me one thing ere I go, that if I slay this beast you will be my wife, and come back with me to my kingdom in fruitful Argos, for I am a king's heir. Promise me, and seal it with a kiss. Then she lifted up her face and kissed him, and Perseus laughed for joy, and flew upward while Andromeda crouched trembling on the rock, waiting for what might defaul. On came the great sea monster, coasting along like a huge black galley, lazily breasting the ripple, and stopping at times by creek or headland to watch for the laughter of girls at their bleaching, or cattle pawing at the sandhills, or boys bathing on the beach. His great sides were fringed with clustering shells and seaweeds, and the water gurgled in and out of his wide jaws as he rolled along, dripping and glistening in the beams of the morning sun. At last he saw Andromeda, and shot forward to take his prey, while the waves foamed white behind him, and before him the fish fled leaping. Then, down from the height of the air fell Perseus, like a shooting star, down to the crests of the waves, while Andromeda hid her face as he shouted, and then there was silence for a while. At last she looked up, trembling, and saw Perseus springing toward her, and instead of the monster a long black rock with the sea rippling quietly around it. Who then so proud as Perseus, as he leapt back to the rock and lifted his fair Andromeda in his arms, and flew with her to the cliff-top as a Falcon carries a dove? Who so proud as Perseus, and who so joyful as all the Ethiope people, for they had stood watching the monster from the cliffs wailing for the maiden's fate, and already a messenger had gone to Cepheus and Cassiopeia, where they sat in sackcloth and ashes on the ground in the innermost palace chambers awaiting their daughter's end? And they came, and all the city with them, to see the wonder with songs and with dances, with symbols and harps, and received their daughter back again as one alive from the dead. Then Cepheus said, Hero of the Helens, stay here with me and be my son-in-law, and I will give you half my kingdom. I will be your son-in-law, said Perseus, but of your kingdom I will have none, for I long after the pleasant land of Greece and my mother who waits for me at home. Then Cepheus said, You must not take my daughter away at once, for she is to us like one alive from the dead. Stay with us here a year, and after that you shall return with honor. And Perseus consented, but before he went to the palace he bade the people bring stones and wood, and build three altars, one to Athene, and one to Hermes, and one to Fr. Zeus, and offered bullocks and rams. And some said this is a pious man, yet the priests said, The sea queen will be yet more fierce against us, because her monster is slain. But they were afraid to speak aloud, for they feared the Gorgons head. So they went up to the palace, and when they came in, there stood in the hall Phineus, the brother of Cepheus, chafing like a bear robbed of her welps, and with him his sons, and his servants, and many an armed man, and he cried to Cepheus, You shall not marry your daughter to this stranger, of whom no one knows even the name, was not Andromeda betrothed to my son, and now she is safe again, has he not a right to claim her? But Perseus laughed, and answered, If your son is in want of a bride, let him save a maiden for himself. As yet he seems but a helpless bridegroom. He left this one to die, and dead she is to him. I saved her alive, and alive she is to me, but to no one else. Ungrateful man, have I not saved your land, and the lives of your sons and daughters, and will you requite me thus? Go, or it will be worse for you. But all the men at arms drew their swords, and rushed on him like wild beasts. Then he unveiled the Gorgons head, and said, This has delivered my bride from one wild beast. It shall deliver her from many. And as he spoke, Phineas and all his men at arms stopped short, and stiffened each man as he stood. And before Perseus had drawn the goatskin over the face again, they were all turned into stone. Then Perseus bade the people bring levers, and roll them out. And what was done with them after that, I cannot tell. So they made a great wedding feast, which lasted seven whole days, and who is so happy as Perseus and Andromeda? But on the eighth night Perseus dreamed a dream, and he saw standing beside him Palas Athene, as he had seen her in Seraphos seven long years before, and she stood and called him by name, and said, Perseus, you have played the man, and see you have your reward. Know now that the gods are just, and help him who helps himself. Now give me here herpe the sword, and the sandals, and the hat of darkness, that I may give them back to their owners. But the gorgons head you shall keep awhile, for you will need it in your land of Greece. Then you shall lay it up in my temple at Seraphos, that I may wear it on my shield forever, a terror to the titans and the monsters, and the foes of gods and men. And as for this land, I have appeased the sea and the fire, and there shall be no more floods nor earthquakes. But let the people build altars to father Zeus, and to me, and worship the immortals, the lords of heaven and earth. And Perseus rose to give her the sword, the cap, and the sandals. But he woke, and his dream vanished away. And yet he was not altogether a dream, for the goatskin with the head was in its place. But the sword and the cap and the sandals were gone, and Perseus never saw them more. Then a great awe fell on Perseus, and he went out in the morning to the people and told his dream, and bade them build altars to Zeus, the father of gods and men, and to Athene, who gives wisdom to heroes, and fear no more the earthquakes and the floods, but sow and build in peace. And they did so for a while and prospered. But after Perseus was gone they forgot Zeus and Athene, and worshiped again Atargatus, the queen, and the undying fish of the sacred lake, where Ducalion's deluge was swallowed up, and they burnt their children before the Fire King. Till Zeus was angry with that foolish people, and brought a strange nation against them out of Egypt, who fought against them, and wasted them utterly, and dwelt in their cities for many a hundred years. Part 5 of Perseus from the Heroes. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. And when a year was ended, Perseus hired Phoenicians from Tyre and cut down cedars and built himself a noble galley, and painted its cheeks with vermilion and pitched its sides with pitch. And in it he put Andromeda, and all her dowry of jewels and rich shawls and spices from the east, and great was the weeping when they rode away. But the remembrance of his brave deed was left behind, and Andromeda's rock was shown at Iopa in Palestine till more than a thousand years were passed. So Perseus and the Phoenicians rode to the westward, across the Sea of Crete, till they came to the Blue Aegean and the Pleasant Isles of Helus and Seraphos, his ancient home. Then he left his galley on the beach and went up as of old, and he embraced his mother and dictus his good foster father, and they wept over each other a long while, for it was seven years and more since they had met. Then Perseus went out and up to the Hall of Polydectes, and underneath the goatskin he bore the Gorgon's head. And when he came into the Hall, Polydectes sat at the table-head, and all his nobles and landowners on either side, each according to his rank, feasting on the fish and the goat's flesh and drinking the blood-red wine. The harpers harped, and the revelers shouted, and the wine-cups rang merrily as they passed from hand to hand, and great was the noise in the Hall of Polydectes. Then Perseus stood upon the threshold and called to the King by name. But none of the guests knew Perseus, for he was changed by his long journey. He had gone out a boy and was come home a hero. His eyes shone like an eagle's, and his beard was like a lion's beard, and he stood up like a wild bull in his pride. But Polydectes the wicked knew him, and hardened his heart still more, and scornfully he called, ah, foundling, have you found it more easy to promise than to fulfill? Those whom the gods helped fulfill their promises, and those who despised them reap as they have sown, behold the Gorgon's head! Then Perseus drew back the goatskin and held aloft the Gorgon's head. Pale grew Polydectes and his guests as they looked upon that dreadful face. They tried to rise up from their seats, but from their seats they never rose, but stiffened each man where he sat into a ring of cold gray stones. Then Perseus turned and left them and went down to his galley in the bay, and he gave the kingdom to Good Dictus and sailed away with his mother and his bride. And Polydectes and his guests sat still with the wine cups before them on the board, till the rafters crumbled down above their heads and the walls behind their backs, and the table crumbled down between them and the grass sprung up about their feet. But Polydectes and his guests sit on the hillside, a ring of gray stones, until this day. But Perseus rode westward toward Argos and landed and went up to the town, and when he came he found that Acreceus's grandfather had fled. For Proetus, his wicked brother, had made war against him afresh, and had come across the river from tyrants and conquered Argos, and Acreceus had fled to Larissa in the country of the wild Pelasgii. Then Perseus called the Argyves together and told them who he was and all the noble deeds which he had done. And all the nobles and the yeoman made him king, for they saw that he had a royal heart. And they fought with him against Argos and took it, and killed Proetus, and made the Cyclopes serve them, and build them walls round Argos, like the walls which they had built at tyrants. And there were great rejoicings in the veil of Argos because they had got a king from Father Zeus. But Perseus' heart yearned after his grandfather, and he said, Surely he is my flesh and blood, and he will love me now that I am come home with honour. I will go and find him and bring him home, and we will reign together in peace. So Perseus sailed away with his Phoenicians round Hydria and Sunium, past Marathon and the Attic shore, and through Euripus, and up the long Euboean sea, till he came to the town of Larissa, where the wild Palazzi dwelled. And when he came there, all the people were in the fields, and there was feasting in all kinds of games, for Tutaminis their king wished to honour Acresius, because he was the king of a mighty land. So Perseus did not tell his name, but went up to the games unknown, for he said, If I carry away the prize in the games, my grandfather's heart will be softened toward me. So he threw off his helmet and his cuirass and all his clothes, and stood among the youths of Larissa, while all wondered at him and said, Who is this young stranger who stands like a wild bull in his pride? Surely he is one of the heroes, the sons of the immortals from Olympus. And when the games began they wondered yet more, for Perseus was the best man of all at running and leaping and wrestling and throwing the javelin. And he won four crowns and took them, and then he said to himself, There is a fifth crown yet to be won, I will win that and lay them all upon the knees of my grandfather. And as he spoke he saw where Acresius sat by the side of Tutaminis the king, with his white beard flowing down upon his knees and his royal staff in his hand, and Perseus wept when he looked at him for his heart yearned after his kin, and he said, Surely he is a kingly old man, yet he need not be ashamed of his grandson. Then he took the quites and hurled them, five fathoms beyond all the rest, and the people shouted, Further yet brave stranger, there has never been such a hurler in this land. Then Perseus put out all his strength and hurled. But Augusta Wynne came from the sea, and carried the quiet aside and far beyond all the rest, and it fell on the foot of Acresius, and he swooned away with the pain. Perseus shrieked and ran up to him, but when they lifted the old man up he was dead, for his life was slow and feeble. Then Perseus rent his clothes and cast dust upon his head and wept a long while for his grandfather. At last he rose, and called all the people allowed and said, The gods are true, and what they have ordained must be. I am Perseus, the grandson of this dead man, the far-famed slayer of the Gorgon. Then he told them how the prophecy had declared that he should kill his grandfather and all the story of his life. So they made a great mourning for Acresius and burnt him on a right-rich pile, and Perseus went to the temple and was purified from the guilt of the death, because he had done it unknowingly. Then he went home to Argos and reigned there well with fair Andromeda, and they had four sons and three daughters and died in a good old age. And when they died the ancients say, Athene took them up into the sky with Cepheus and Cassiopeia, and there on star-light nights you may see them shining still, Cepheus with his kingly crown and Cassiopeia in her ivory chair plating her star-spangled tresses, and Perseus with the Gorgon's head and fair Andromeda beside him, spreading her long white arms across the heaven as she stood when chained to the stone for the monster. All night long they shined for a beacon to wandering salaries, but all day they feast with the gods on the still-blue peaks of Olympus. Part 1 of The Argonauts from the Heroes This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. The Heroes or Greek Fairy Tales from My Children by Charles Kingsley. Part 1 of The Argonauts, How the Centaur Trained the Heroes on Pellion I have told you of a hero who fought with wild beasts and with wild men, but now I have a tale of heroes who sailed away into a distant land to win themselves renowned forever in the adventure of the Golden Fleece. Whether they sailed, my children, I cannot clearly tell. It all happened long ago, so long that it has all grown dim, like a dream which you dreamt last year. And why they went, I cannot tell. Some say that it was to win gold. It may be so, but the noblest deeds which have been done on earth have not been done for gold. It was not for the sake of gold that the Lord came down and died, and the apostles went out to preach the Good News in all lands. The Spartans looked for no reward in money when they fought and died at thermopiling. And Socrates the Wise asked no pay from his countrymen, but lived poor and barefoot all his days, only caring to make men good. And there are heroes in our days also who do noble deeds, but not for gold. Our discoverers did not go to make themselves rich when they sailed out one after another into the dreary frozen seas, nor did the ladies who went out last year to drudge in the hospitals of the east, making themselves poor that they might be rich in noble works. And young men, too, whom you know, children, and some of them of your own kin, did they say to themselves how much money shall I earn when they went out to the war, leaving wealth and comfort in a pleasant home and all that money can give, to face hunger and thirst and wounds and death, though they might fight for their country and their queen? No, children, there is a better thing on earth than wealth, a better thing than life itself, and that is to have done something before you die, for which good men may honor you and guard your father's smile upon your work. Therefore we will believe, why should we not, of these same Argonauts of old, that they, too, were noble men who planned and did a noble deed, and that, therefore, their fame has lived and been told in story and in song, mixed up, no doubt, with dreams and fables, and yet true and right at heart. So we will honor these old Argonauts and listen to their story as it stands, and we will try to be like them, each of us in our place, for each of us has a golden fleece to seek and a wild sea to sail over ere we reach it, and dragons to fight ere it be ours. And what was that first golden fleece? I do not know nor care. The old Helens said that it hung in cultures, which we call the Sarcassian coast, nailed to a beech tree in the war-gods wood, and that it was the fleece of the wondrous ram who wore frixes and hell across the Eucsean Sea, for frixes and hell were the children of the cloud and infant of Athamas, the Minoan king, and when a famine came upon the land, their cruel stepmother Eno wished to kill them, that her own children might reign, and said that they must be sacrificed on an altar to turn away the anger of the gods. So the poor children were brought to the altar, and the priest stood ready with his knife, when out of the clouds came the golden ram, and took them on his back and vanished. Then madness came upon that foolish king Athamas, and ruin upon Eno and her children, for Athamas killed one of them in his fury, and Eno fled from him with the other in her arms, and leapt from a cliff into the sea, and was changed into a dolphin such as you have seen, which wanders over the waves forever sighing, with its little one clasped to its breast. But the people drove out king Athamas because he had killed his child, and he roamed about in his misery till he came to the oracle in Delphi, and the oracle told him that he must wander for his sin, till the wild beast should feed him as their guest. So he went on in hunger and sorrow for many a weary day, till he saw a pack of wolves. The wolves were tearing a sheep, but when they saw Athamas they fled and left the sheep for him, and he ate of it, and then he knew that the oracle was fulfilled at last, so he wandered no more but settled and built a town, and became a king again. But the ram carried the two children far away over land and sea, till he came to the Thracian Chersonese, and their hell fell into the sea. So those narrow straits are called hells spawned after her, and they bear that name until this day. Then the ram flew on with frixes to the northeast across the sea which we call the Black Sea now, but the Hellens call it Uxen, and at last they say he stopped at Colchis on the steep Circassian coast, and there frixes married Chalsiope, the daughter of Aetes the king, and offered the ram in sacrifice, and Aetes nailed the ram's fleece to a beach in the grove of Ares the war-god. And after a while frixes died and was buried, but his spirit had no rest, for he was buried far from his native land and the pleasant hills of Hellas. So he came in dreams to the folks of the Minowai, and called sadly by their beds, come and set my spirit free the time I go home to my fathers and to my kin's folk and the pleasant Minowan land, and they asked, how shall we set your spirit free? You must sail over the sea to Colchis and bring home the golden fleece, and then my spirit will come back with it and I shall sleep with my fathers and to have rest. He came thus and called to them often, but when they woke they looked at each other and said, who dares sail to Colchis or bring home the golden fleece? And in all the country none was brave enough to try it, for the man in the time would not come. Frixes had a cousin called Eson, who was king in Aeolkos by the sea. There he ruled over the rich Minowan heroes as Athamas his uncle ruled in Boeotia, and like Athamas he was an unhappy man, for he had a step-brother named Pelias, of whom some said that he was a nymph's son, and there were dark and sad tales about his birth. When he was a baby he was cast out on the mountains, and a wild mare came by and kicked him, but a shepherd passing found the baby, with his face all blackened by the blow, and took him home and called him Pelias, because his face was bruised and black. And he grew up fierce and lawless, and did many a fearful deed, and at last he drove out Ace and his step-brother and then his own brother Nelius, and took the kingland to himself, and ruled over the rich Minowan heroes in Aeolkos by the sea. And Ace, when he was driven out, went sadly away out of the town, leading his little son by the hand. And he said to himself, I must hide the child in the mountains, or Pelias will surely kill him because he is the air. So he went up from the sea across the valley, through the vineyards and the olive groves, and across the torrent of Anoros, toward Pelion, the ancient mountain, whose brows are white with snow. He went up and up into the mountain, over marsh and crag and down, till the boy was tired, and foot sore, and Ace had to bear him in his arms, till he came to the mouth of a lonely cave at the foot of a mighty cliff. Above the cliff the snow-reads sung, dripping and cracking in the sun, but at its foot around the cave's mouth grew all fair flowers and herbs as if in a garden, ranged by order, each sought by itself. There they grew gaily in the sunshine and the spray of the torrent from above, while from the cave came the sound of music and a man's voice singing to the harp. Then Ace and put down the lad and whispered, Fear not but go in, and him so ever usual find, lay your hands upon his knees and say, In the name of Zeus the father of gods and men, I am your guest from this day forth. Then the lad went in without trembling, for he too was a hero's son, but when he was within he stopped in wonder to listen to that magic song, and there he saw the singer lying upon bearskins and fragrant boughs, cair on the ancient center, the wisest of all things beneath the sky. Down to the waist he was a man, but below he was a noble horse, his white hair rolled down over his broad shoulders and his white beard over his broad brown chest, and his eyes were wise and mild and his forehead like a mountain wall, and in his hands he held a harp of gold and struck it with a golden key, and as he struck he sang till his eyes glittered and filled all the cave with light, and he sang of the birth of time and of the heavens and the dancing stars, and of the ocean and the ether and the fire and the shaping of the wondrous earth, and he sang of the treasures of the hills and the hidden jewels of the mine, and the veins of fire and metal, and the virtues of all healing herbs, and of the speech of birds, and of prophecy, and of hidden things to come. Then he sang of health and strength in manhood, and of valiant heart, and of music and hunting and wrestling, and all the games which heroes love, and of travel and wars and sieges in a noble death and fight, and then he sang of peace and plenty, and of equal justice in the land, and as he sang the boy listened wide-eyed and forgot his errand in the song, and at the last old Chiron was silent and called the lad with a soft voice, and the lad ran trembling to him and would have laid his hands upon his knees, but Chiron smiled and said, Call hither your father Aeson, for I know you and all that is before him, and saw you both afar in the valley even before you left the town. Then Aeson came in sadly, and Chiron asked him, Why cameest you not yourself to me, Aeson, the earlet? And Aeson said, I thought Chiron will pity the lad if he sees him come alone, and I wish to try whether he was fearless and dare venture like a hero's son. But now I entreat you by father Zeus, let the boy be your guest till better times, and train him among the sons of the heroes that he may avenge his father's house. Then Chiron smiled and drew the lad to him and laid his hand upon his golden locks and said, Are you afraid of my horse's hooves, fair boy, or will he be my pupil from this day? I would gladly have horses hooves like you if I could sing such songs as yours. And Chiron laughed and said, Sit here by me till sundown when your playfellows will come home, and you shall learn like them to be a king worthy to rule over gallant men. Then he turned to Aeson and said, Go back in peace and bend before the storm like a prudent man. This boy shall not cross the anoros again till he has become a glory to you and to the house of Aeolus. And Aeson wept over his son and went away, but the boy did not weep so full was his fancy of that strange cave and the centaur in his song and the playfellows whom he was to see. Then Chiron put the lyre into his hands and taught him how to play it, till the sun sank low behind the cliff and a shout was heard outside. And then in came the sons of the heroes, Aeneas and Heracles and Pellius and many another mighty name. And Great Chiron leapt up joyfully and his hooves made the cave resound as they shouted, Come out, Father Chiron, come and see our game. And one cried, I have killed two dear, and another, I took a wild cat among the crags and Heracles dragged a wild goat after him by its horns. He was as huge as a mountain crag and Coneus carried a bear cub under each arm and laughed when they scratched and bit for neither tooth nor steel could wound him. And Chiron praised them all each according to his desserts. Only one walked apart in silent. Escalepius, the two wise Chiron, was as bosomful of herbs and flowers and round his wrist a spotted snake. He came with downcast eyes to Chiron and whispered how he had watched the snake cast its old skin and grow young again before his eyes, and how he had gone down into a village in the Vale and cured a dying man with a herb which he had seen as sick goat eat. And Chiron smiled and said, To each Aenean apologist give some gift, and each is worthy in his place, but to this trial they have given an honour beyond all honours to cure while others kill. Then the lads brought in wood and split it, and lighted a blazing fire, and others skinned the deer and quartered them, and set them to roast before the fire, and while the venison was cooking they bathed in the snow-torn and washed away the dust and sweat, and then all ate till they could eat no more, for they had tasted nothing since the dawn, and drank of the clear spring water, for wine is not fit for growing lads. And while the remnants were put away they all lay down upon the skins and leaves about the fire, and each took the lyre and turn and sang and played with all his heart. And after a while they all went out to a plot of grass at the cave's mouth, and there they boxed and ran and wrestled and laughed till the stones fell from the cliffs. Then Chiron took his lyre and all the lads joined hands, and as he played they danced to his measure in and out and round and round. There they danced hand in hand till night fell over land and sea, while the black glen shone with their broad white limbs and the gleam of their golden hair. And the lad danced with them, delighted, and then slept a wholesome sleep upon fragrant leaves of bay and myrtle and marjoram and flowers of time, and rose at the dawn and bathed in the torrent, and became a school-fellow to the hero's sons, and forgot Eilkost and his father and all his former life. But he was strong and brave and cunning upon the pleasant downs of Pelion in the keen hungry mountain air, and he learned to wrestle into box and to hunt and to play upon the harp, and next he learned to ride for old Chiron used to mount him on his back, and he learned the virtues of all herbs and how to cure all wounds, and Chiron called him Jason the healer, and that is his name until his day. End of part one of the Argonauts.