 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Thomas Wells Bolfinch's Mythology The Age of Fable by Thomas Bolfinch Chapter 23 Achilles and Hercules The river-god Achilles told the story of Eris Christian to Thesis and his companions, whom he was entertaining at his hospitable board, while they were delayed on their journey by the overflow of his waters. Having finished his story, he added, But why should I tell of other person's transformations when I myself am an instance of the possession of this power? Sometimes I become a serpent and sometimes a bull with horns on my head, or should I say, I once could do so? But now I have but one horn, having lost one. And here he groaned and was silent. Thesis asked him the cause of his grief, and how he lost his horn, to which question the river-god replies as follows. Who likes to tell of his defeats? Yet I will not hesitate to relate mine, comforting myself with the thought of the greatness of my conqueror, for it was Hercules. Perhaps you have heard of the fame of Dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host of suitors strove to win. Hercules and myself were of the number, and the rest yielded to us too. He urged in his behalf his descent from Jove and his labours by which he had exceeded the exactions of Junot, his stepmother. I, on the other hand, said to the father of the maiden, Behold me, the king of the waters that flow through your land. I am no stranger from a foreign shore, but belong to the country, a part of your realm. Let it not stand in my way that royal Junot owes me no enmity nor punishes me with heavy tasks. As for this man who boasts himself the son of Jove, it is either a false pretense or disgraceful to him if true, for it cannot be true except by his mother's shame. As I said this, Hercules scowled upon me, and the difficulty restrained his rage. My hand will answer better than my tongue, said he. I yield to you the victory in words, but trust my cause to the strife of deeds. With that he advanced towards me, and I was ashamed after what I had said to yield. I threw off my green vesture and presented myself for the struggle. He tried to throw me, now attacking my head, now my body. My bulk was my protection, and he assailed me in a vain. For a time we stopped, then returned to the conflict. We each kept our position, determined not to yield. Foot to foot, I bending over him, kindling his hand and mine, with my forehead almost touching his. Thry, Hercules tried to throw me off, and the fourth time he succeeded, brought me to the ground and himself upon my back. I tell you the truth, was as if a mountain had fallen on me. I struggled to get my arms at liberty, panting and reeking with perspiration. He gave me no chance to recover, but seized my throat. My knees were on the earth, and my mouth in the dust. Finding that I was no match for him in the warrior's art, I resorted to others, and glided away in the form of a serpent. I curled my body in a coil, and hissed at him with my forked tongue. He smiled scornfully at this, and said, It was the labor of my infancy to conquer snakes. So saying, he clasped my neck with his hands. I was almost choked, and struggled to get my neck out of his grasp. Vanquished in this form, I tried what alone remained to me, and assumed the form of a bull. He grasped my neck with his arm, and dragging my head down to the ground, overthrew me on the sand. Nor was this enough. His ruthless hand writt my horn from my head. The naïdes took it, consecrated it, and filled it with fragrant flowers. Plenty adopted my horn, and made it her own, and called it cornucopia. The ancients were fond of finding hidden meaning in their mythological tales. They explained this fight of Achilos with Hercules by saying Achilos was a river that in seasons of rain overflowed its banks. When the fable says that Achilos loved Digenera and sought a union with her, the meaning is that the river and its windings flowed through part of Digenera's kingdom. It is said to take the form of a snake because of its winding, and of a bull because it made a brawling or roaring in its course. When the river swelled, it made itself another channel. Thus its head was horned. Hercules prevented the return of these periodical overflows by embankments and canals, and therefore he was said to have vanquished the river god and cut off his horn. Finally, the lands formally subject to overflow, but now redeemed, became very fertile. And this is meant by the 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 Melisius, a Cretan king. They fed the infant deity with the milk of the goat, Almythia. Jupiter broke off one of the horns of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and endowed it with the wonderful power of becoming fulfilled with whatever the possessor might wish. The name of Almythia is also given by some writers to the mother of Bacchus. It is thus used by Milton, Paradise Lost, Book 4. That naecian isle, Gert with the River Triton, were old Cham, whose Gentiles Amoncall and Limea and Jove hid Almythia and her floored son, Yum Bacchus, from his step-dame Rhea's eye. Admetis and Alsestis, Aes Galapius, the son of Apollo, was endowed by his father with such skill in the healing art that he even restored the dead to life. At this Pluto took alarm and prevailed on Jupiter to launch a thunderbolt at Aes Galapius. Apollo was indignant at the destruction of his son and wreaked his vengeance on the innocent workmen who had made the thunderbolt. These were the Cyclopses who had their workshop under Mount Aetna, from which the smoke and flames of their furnaces are constantly issuing. Apollo shot his arrows at the Cyclopses, which so incensed Jupiter that he condemned him as a punishment to become the servant of the mortal for the space of one year. Accordingly, Apollo went into the service of Admetis, king of Thessaly, and pastored his flocks for him on the verdant banks of the river Amphirisos. Admetis was a suitor with others, for the hand of Alsestis, the daughter of Aethelius, who promised her to him who should come for her in the chariot drawn by lions and bulls. This task Admetis performed by the assistance of his divine herdsmen, and was made happy in the possession of Alsestis. But Admetis fell ill, and being near to death, Apollo prevailed on the fates to spare him on condition that someone would consent to die in his stead. Admetis, in his joy at this reprieve, thought little of the ransom, and perhaps remembering the declarations of attachment which he had often heard from his courtiers, and dependents fancied that it would be easy to find a substitute, but it was not so. Brave warriors who would willingly have perealed their lives for their prince, shrunk from the thought of dying for him on the bed of sickness, and old servants who had experienced his bounty, and that of his house, from their childhood up, were not willing to lay down the scanty remnant of their days to show their gratitude. Men asked, why does not one of his own parents do it? They cannot, in the course of nature, live much longer, and who can feel like them the call to rescue the life they gave from an untimely end? But the parents, distressed though they were at the thought of losing him, shrunk from the call. Then Alsestis, with a generous self-devotion, proffered herself as the substitute. Admetis, fond as he was of life, would not have submitted to receive it at such a cost. But there was no remedy. The condition imposed by the fates had been met, and the decree was irrevocable. Alsestis sickened as Admetis revived, and she was rapidly sinking into the grave. Just at this time, Hercules arrived at the palace of Admetis, and found all the inmates in great distress for the impending loss of the devoted wife and beloved mistress. Hercules, to whom no labor was too arduous, resolved to attempt her rescue. He went and lay in wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen, and when death came for his prey he seized him and forced him to resign his victim. Alsestis recovered, and was restored to her husband. Milton alludes to the story of Alsestis and his son on his deceased wife. Me thought I saw my latest pal saint brought to me like Alsestis from the grave, whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, rescued from death by force, though pale and faint. J. R. Lowe has chosen the shepherd of King Admetis for the subject of his short poem. He makes that event the first introduction of poetry to men. Men called him but a shiftless youth, in whom no good they saw, and yet unwittingly, in truth, they made his careless words their law. And day by day, more holy grew, each spot where he had trod, till after poets only knew, their first-born brother was a god. Antigone A large proportion of both the interesting persons and of the exalted acts of legendary Greece belongs to the female sex. Antigone was as bright an example of filial and sisterly fidelity as was Alsestis of cannubial devotion. She was the daughter of Oedipus and Jocasta, who with all their descendants were the victims of an unrelenting faint, dooming them to destruction. Oedipus in his madness had torn out his eyes, and was driven forth from his kingdom Thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all men as an object of divine vengeance. Antigone, his daughter, alone shared his wanderings, and remained with him till he died, and then returned to Thebes. Her brothers, Etocles and Polynyxes, had agreed to share the kingdom between them, and reigned alternately year by year. The first year fell to the lot of Etocles, who, when his time expired, refused to surrender the kingdom to his brother. Polynyces fled to Addrastus, king of Argos, who gave him his daughter in marriage, and aided him with an army to enforce his claim to the kingdom. This led to the celebrated expedition of the Seven Against Thebes, which furnished ample materials for the epic and tragic poets of Greece. Amphiarius, the brother-in-law of Addrastus, opposed the enterprise, for he was a soothsayer, and knew by his art that no one of the leaders except Addrastus would live to return. But Amphiarius, on his marriage to Eryphil, the king's sister, had agreed that whenever he and Addrastus should differ in opinion, the decision should be left to Eryphil. Polynyces, knowing this, gave Eryphil the color of harmonia, and thereby gained her to his interest. This color of necklace was a present which Vulcan had given to Harmonia on her marriage with Cadmus, and Polynyces had taken it with him on his flight from Thebes. Eryphil could not resist so tempting a bribe, and by her decision the war was resolved on, and Amphiarius went to a certain fate. He bore his past bravely in the contest, but could not avert his destiny. Pursued by the enemy, he fled along the river, when a thunderbolt launched by Jupiter opened the ground, and he, his chariot, and his charioteer were swallowed up. It would have not been in a place here to detail all the acts of heroism or atrocity which marked the contest, but we must not admit to record the fidelity of Edin as an upset to the weakness of Eryphil. Cappanius, the husband of Adonine, in the order of the fight declared that he would force his way into the city in spite of Job himself, placing a ladder against the wall he mounted, but Jupiter, offended at his impious language, struck him with a thunderbolt. When his obsequies were celebrated, Adonine cast herself on his funeral pile and perished. Early in the contest, Etokles consulted the sous-sayer Tiresias as to the issue. Tiresias, in his youth, had by chance seen Minerva bathing. The goddess and her wrath deprived him of his sight, but afterwards Relenting gave him in compensation the knowledge of future events. When consulted by Etokles, he declared that victory should fall to Thebes if Minosias, 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 various successes. At length, both hosts agreed that brothers should decide their quarrel by single combat. They fought and fell by each other's hands. 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 Etokles to be buried with distinguished honor, but suffered the body of Polyneses to lie where it fell, forbidding everyone on pain of death to give it burial. Antigon, the sister of Polyneses, heard with indignation the revolting edict which consigned her brother's body to the dogs and vultures, depriving it of the rights which were considered essential to the repose of the dead. Unmoved by the dissuading council of an 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, and Creon gave orders that she should be buried alive, as having deliberately set at naught the solemn edict of the city. Her lover, Haman, the son of Creon, unable to avert her fate, would not survive her, and fell by his own hand. Antigon forms the subject of two fine tragedies of the Gratian poet Sophoclese. Miss Jameson, in her characteristics of women, has compared her character with that of Cordelia, in Shakespeare's King Lear. The perusal of her remarks cannot fail to gratify her readers. The following is the lamentation of Antigon over Oedipus, when death has at last relieved him from his sufferings. Alas! I only wished I might have died with my poor father, wherefore I should I ask for longer life. Oh! I was fond of misery with him, in what was most unlovely grew beloved when he was with me. Oh, my dearest father! Beneath the earth now in deep darkness hid, Warnest thou word with age, to me thou still was dear, and shalt be ever. Franklin's Sophoclese Penelope Penelope is another one of those mythic heroines whose beauties were rather those of character and conduct than of person. She was the daughter of Icarus, a Spartan prince. Ulysses, king of Ithaca, sought her in marriage, and won her over all competitors. When the moment came for her the bride to leave her father's house, Icarus, unable to bear the thought of parting with his daughter, tried to persuade her to remain with him, and not accompany her husband to Ithaca. Ulysses gave Penelope her choice, to stay or go with him. Penelope made Roe reply, but dropped her veil over her face. Icarus urged her no further, but when she was gone, erected a statue to modesty on the spot where they parted. Ulysses and Penelope had not enjoyed their union more than a year when it was interrupted by the events which called Ulysses to the Trojan War. During his long absence, and when it was doubtful whether he still lived, and highly improbable that he would ever return, Penelope was imporchained by numerous suitors, from whom there seemed no refuge but in choosing one of them for her husband. Penelope, however, employed every art to gain time, still hoping for Ulysses' turn. One of her arts of delay was engaging in the preparation of a robe for the funeral canopy of Laertes, her husband's father. She pledged herself to make her choice among the suitors when the robe was finished. During the day she worked at the robe, but in the night she undid the work of the day. This is the famous Penelope's web, which is used as a proverbial expression for anything which is perpetually doing but never done. The rest of Penelope's history will be told when we give an account of her husband's adventures. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Bullfinch's Mythology, the Age of Fable, by Thomas Bullfinch, Chapter 24 Orpheus and Eurydice, Aristaeus, Ampheon, Linus, Themyrus, Marseus, Melampus, and Museus Orpheus and Eurydice Orpheus was the son of Apollo and the muse Calliope. He was presented by his father with a leer and taught to play upon it, which he did to such perfection that nothing could withstand the charm of his music. Not only his fellow mortals but wild beasts were softened by his strains and gathering round him laid by their fierceness and stood entranced with his lay. Nay, the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. The former crowded round him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness softened by his notes. Hymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of Orpheus with Eurydice, but though he attended he brought no happy omens with him. His very torch smoked and brought tears into their eyes. In coincidence with such prognostics Eurydice shortly after her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, her companions was seen by the shepherd Aristaeus, who was struck with her beauty and made advances to her. She fled and, in flying, trod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot and died. Orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods and men, and, finding it all unveiling, resolved to seek his wife in the regions of the dead. He descended by a cave situated on the side of the promontory of Tenerus, and arrived at the Stygian realm. He passed through crowds of ghosts and presented himself before the throne of Pluto and Proserapony. Accompanying the words with the leer he sung, O deities of the underworld, to whom all who he lived must come, hear my words, for they are true. I come not to spy out the secrets of Tartarus, nor to try my strength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards the entrance. I came to seek my wife, whose opening years the poisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely end. Love has led me here, love, God all-powerful with us who dwell on the earth, and if old traditions say true, not less so here. I implore you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and uncreated things, unite again the threat of Eurydice's life. We all are destined to you, and sooner or later must pass to your domain. She too, when she shall have fulfilled her term of life, will rightly be yours, but till then grant her to me, I beseech you. If you deny me, I cannot return alone. You shall triumph in the death of us both." As he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. Tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts for water. Ixian's wheels stood still. The vultures ceased to tear the giant's liver. The daughters of Danius rested from their task of drying water in a sieve, and Sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. Then, for the first time it is said, the cheeks of the Furies were wet with tears. Prisropinith 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 one condition, that he should not turn around to look at her till they should have reached the upper air. Under this condition they proceeded on their way, he leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world. When Orpheus, in a moment of forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance behind him, when instantly she was born away. Stretching out their arms to embrace each other, they grasped only the air. Dying now a second time, she yet cannot reproach her husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her? Farewell, she said, elast farewell, and was hurried away, so fast that the sound hardly reached his ears. Orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to return and try once more for her release, but the stern ferrymen repulsed him in refused passage. Seven days he lingered about the brink, without food or sleep, then bitterly accusing of cruelty the powers of Uribus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from their stations. He held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection of his sad mischance. The Thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances. They bore with him as long as they could, but finding him insensible one day, excited by the rites of Bacchus, one of them exclaimed, See, yonder, our despiser, and through it him her javelin. The weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lear, fell harmless at his feet. So did also the stones that they threw at him. But the women raised the scream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were stained with his blood. The maniacs tore him limb from limb, and threw his head and his lear into the river Hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony. The muses gathered up the fragments of his body, and buried them at Liberitria, where the nightingale is said to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of Greece. His lear was placed by Jupiter among the stars. His shade passed a second time to Tartarus, where he sought out his Eurydice, and embraced her with eager arms. They roam the happy fields together now, sometimes he leading, sometimes she. And Orpheus gazes as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance. The story of Orpheus has furnished Pope with an illustration of the power of music. For as owed for St. Cecilia's day, the following stanza relates the conclusion of the story. But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes. Again she falls, again she dies, she dies. How wilt thou know the fatal sister's move? No crime was thine if it is no crime to love. Now under hanging mountains, besides the falls of fountains, or where Hebrus wanders, rolling in meanders, all alone he makes his moan, and calls her ghost, forever, ever, ever lost. Now with fury surrounded, despairing, confounded, he trembles, he glows, amidst rotoves' snows. See, wild as the winds over the desert he flies, harkamus resounds with the bacchanals' cries, ah, see, he dies. Yet even in death, Eurydice he sung, Eurydice still trembled on his tongue, Eurydice the woods, Eurydice the flocks, Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung. The superior melody of the Nightingale's song over the grave of Orpheus is alluded to by Suddy and his Stalaba. Then on his ear what sounds of harmony arose. Far music in the distance mellowed song, from bowers of merriment, the waterfall remote, the murmuring of the leafy groves, the single Nightingale. Perched in the rose-year by so richly toned, that never from that most melodious bird, singing a love song to his brooding mate, did Thracian shepherd by the grave of Orpheus hear a sweeter melody. Though they're the spirit of the sepulcher and all his own power infused to swell the incense that he loves. Herestias the beekeeper. Man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals for his own advantage, hence spraying the art of keeping bees. 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 the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh of the animal, and Virgil in the following story shows how this supposed fact may be turned to account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost by disease or accident. Herestias, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of the water-nymph Cyrene. His bees had perished and he resorted for aid to his mother. He stood at the riverside and thus addressed her. Oh mother, the pride of my life is taken from me. I have lost my precious bees. My care and skill have availed me nothing, and you, my mother, have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune. His mother heard these complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the river, with her tenant nymphs around her. They were engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, while one told stories to amuse the rest. The sad voice of Herestias, interrupting their occupation, one of them put her head above the water and, seeing him, returning gave information to his mother, who ordered that he should be brought into her presence. The river at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood curled like a mountain on either side. He descended to the region where the fountains of the great rivers lie. He saw the enormous receptacles of water, and was almost deafened with the roar, while he surveyed them hurring off in various directions to water the face of the earth. Arriving at his mother's apartment, he was suspiciously received by Cyrene and her nymphs, who spread their table with their richest deities. They first poured out libations to Neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after that Cyrene thus addressed him. There is an old prophet named Proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of Neptune, whose herd of sea calves he pastures. We nymphs hold him in great respect, for he is a learned sage, and knows all things past, present, and come. He can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality among your bees, and how you may remedy it. But he will not do it voluntarily, however you may entreat him. You must compel him by force. If you seize him and chain him, he will answer your questions in order to get released, for he cannot, by all his arts, get away if you hold him fast in chains. I will carry you to his cave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. Then you may easily secure him. But when he finds himself captured, his resort is to a power he possesses of changing himself into various forms. He will become a wild boar, or a fierce tiger, a scaly dragon, or lion with yellow mane. Or he will make a noise like the crackling of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you to let go of the chain, when he will make his escape. But you have only to keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his arts unveiling, he will return to his own figure and obey your commands. So saying, she sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and immediately an unusual vigor filled his frame encouraged his heart, while perfume breathed all around him. The nymph led her son to the prophet's cave, and concealed him among the recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her place behind the clouds. When noon came, and the hour when men and herds retreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, Proteus issued from the water, followed by his herd of sea calves, which spread themselves along the shore. He sat on the rock and counted his herd, then stretched himself on the floor of the cave, and went to sleep. Aristeus hardly allowed him to get fairly asleep before he fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. Proteus, waking and finding himself captured, immediately resorted to his arts, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible wild beast, in rapid succession. But finding all would not do, he at last resumed his own form, and addressed the youth in angry accents. Who are you, bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what do you want of me? Aristeus replied, Proteus, you know already, for it is needless for anyone to attempt to deceive you, and do you also cease your efforts to elude me? I am led hither by divine assistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune, and how to remedy it. At these words the prophet fixing on him his gray eyes with a piercing look thus spoke. You received the merited reward of your deeds, by which Eurydice met her death, for in flying from you she trod upon a serpent of whose bite she died. To avenge her death the nymphs, her companions, have sent this destruction to your bees. You have to appease their anger, and thus it must be done. Select four bowls of perfect form and size, and four cows of equal beauty. Build four altars to the nymphs, and sacrifice the animals, leaving their carcasses in a leafy grove. To Orpheus in Eurydice you shall pay such funeral honors, as may allay their resentment. Returning after nine days, you will examine the bodies of the cattle slain, and see what will befall. Aristeus faithfully obeyed these directions. He sacrificed the cattle. He left their bodies in a grove. He offered funeral honors to the shades of Orpheus in Eurydice. Then returning on the ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and wonderful to relate. A swarm of bees had taken possession of one of the carcasses, and were pursuing their labours there, as in a hive. In the task Calpher alludes to the story of Aristeus, when speaking of the ice palace built by the Empress Anne of Russia. He had been describing the fantastic forms which ice assumes in connection with waterfalls, etc. Less worthy of applause, though more admired, because of novelty the work of man. Imperial mistress of the fur-clad rusts, thy most magnificent and mighty freak, the wonder of the north. No forest fell, when thou wouldst build, no quarry sent at stores. To enrich thy walls, but thou didst hew the floods, and make the marble of the glassy wave. In such a place, palace Aristeus found Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale of his lost bees to her maternal ear. Milton also appears to have had Cyrene in her domestic scene in his mind, when he described to a Sabrina, the nymph of the river Severn, in the guardian spirit song in Comus. Sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting, under the classy 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. The following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians, some of whom were hardly inferior to Orpheus himself. Ampheon Ampheon was the son of Jupiter and Antiope, Queen of Thebes, with his twin brother Zithus. He was exposed at birth on Mount Scythoron, where they grew up among the shepherds not knowing their parentage. Mercury gave Ampheon a lear and taught him to play upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and tinting the flocks. Meanwhile Antiope, their mother, who had been treated with great cruelty by Lycus, the usurping king of Thebes, and by dear she his wife, found means to inform her children of their rights and to summon them to her assistance. With a band of their fellow herdsmen they attacked and slew Lycus, and tying dirty by the hair of her head to a bowl, led him drag her till she was dead. Ampheon, having become king of Thebes, fortified the city with a wall. It is said that when he played on his lear the stones moved to their own accord and took their places in the wall. See Tennyson's poem of Ampheon for an amusing use made of this story. Linus Linus was the instructor of Hercules in music, but having one day reproved his people rather harshly, he roused the anger of Hercules, who struck him with his lear and killed him. The Myrus An ancient Thracian bard who in his presumption challenged the muses to a trial of skill, and being overcome in the contest was deprived by them of his sight. Milton alludes to him with other blind bards when speaking of his own blindness. Paradise Lost Book 3 Marseilles Minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight of all the celestial auditors. But the mischievous urchin cupid having dared to laugh at the queer face which the goddess made while playing, Minerva threw the instrument indignantly away, and it fell down to earth and was found by Marseilles. He blew upon it and drew from it such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to challenge Apollo himself to a musical contest. The god of course triumphed, and punished Marseilles by flaying him alive. Malampus Malampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers. Before his house there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's nest. The old serpents were killed by the servants, but Malampus took care of the young ones and fed them carefully. One day when he was asleep under the oak, the serpents licked his ears with their tongues. On awaking he was astonished to find that he now understood the language of birds and creeping things. This knowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became a renowned soothsayer. At one time his enemies took him captive and kept him secretly imprisoned. Malampus in the silence of the night heard the wordworms in the timbers talking together, and bound out by what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten through and the roof would soon fall in. He told his captors and demanded to be let out, warning them also. They took his warning and thus escaped destruction, and rewarded Malampus and held him in high honor. Miseis A semi-mythological personage who was represented by one tradition to be the son of Orpheus, he is said to have written sacred poems and oracles. Milton couples his name with that of Orpheus in his ill Pinceraso. But, O sad virgin, that thy power might raise Miseis from his bower, or bid the sole of Orpheus sing such notes as warble to the string, drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek and made hell-grant what love did seek. End of Chapter 24 Bolfinch's Mythology The Age of Fable by Thomas Bolfinch Chapter 25 Arian, Ibecus, Simonides, Sappho The poets whose adventures compose this chapter were real persons some of whose works yet remain, and their influence on poets who succeeded them is yet more important than their poetical remains. The adventures recorded of them in the following stories rest on the same authority as other narratives of The Age of Fable, that is of the poets who have told them. In their present form the first two are translated from the German, Arian from Schlegel and Ibecus from Schiller. Arian Arian was a famous musician and dwelt in the court of Periander, King of Corinth, with whom he was a great favourite. There was to be a musical contest in Sicily and Arian longed to compete for the prize. He told his wish to Periander who besought him like a brother to give up the thought. Pray stay with me, he said, and be contented. He who strives to win may lose. Arian answered, A wandering life best suits the free heart of a poet. The talent which a god bestowed on me I would feign make a source of pleasure to others. And if I win the prize how will the enjoyment of it be increased by the consciousness of my widespread fame? He went out, won the prize, and embarked with his wealth in a Corinthian ship for home. On the second morning after setting sail the wind breathed mild and fair. O Periander he exclaimed, dismiss your fears. Soon shall you forget them in my embrace. With what lavish offerings will we display our gratitude to the gods, and how merry will we be at the festival board. The wind and sea continued propitious, not a cloud dimmed the firmament. He had not trusted too much to the ocean, but he had to man. He overheard the seaman exchanging hints with one another, and found they were plotting to possess themselves of his treasure. Presently they surrounded him loud and mutinous, and said, Arian you must die. If you would have a grave on shore yield yourself to die on this spot, but if otherwise cast yourself into the sea. Will nothing satisfy you but my life, said he? Take my gold and welcome. I willingly buy my life at that price. No, we cannot spare you. Your life would be too dangerous to us. Where could we go to escape from Periander if he should know that you had been robbed by us? Your gold would be of little use to us if, on returning home, we could never more be free from fear. Grant me, then, said he, a last request, since not will avail to save my life, that I may die as I have lived, as becomes a bard. When I shall have sung my death-song, and my harp-strings shall have ceased to vibrate, then I will bid farewell to life and yield uncomplaining to my fate. This prayer, like the others, would have been unheeded. They thought only of their booty. But to hear so famous a musician, that moved their rude hearts. Suffer me, he added, to arrange my dress. Apollo will not favour me unless I be clad in my minstrel garb. He clothed his well-proportioned limbs in gold and purple fair to sea. His tunic fell around him in graceful folds. Jewels adorned his arms. His brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odours. His left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its cords. Like one inspired, he seemed to drink the morning air, and glitter in the morning ray, the seaman gazed with admiration. He strode forward to the vessel's side, and looked down into the deep blue sea. Addressing his lyre, he sang, Companion of my voice, come with me to the realm of shades. Though serverous may growl, we know the power of song can tame his rage. Ye heroes of Elysium, who have passed the darkling flood, Ye happy souls soon shall I join your band. Yet can ye relieve my grief, alas I leave my friend behind me? Thou who didst find Thy Eurydice, and lose her again as soon as found, When she had vanished like a dream, how didst Thou hate the cheerful light? I must away, but I will not fear, the gods look down upon us. Ye who slay me unoffending, when I am no more, your time of trembling shall come. Ye naryads, receive your guest, who throws himself upon your mercy. So saying, he sprang into the deep sea. The waves covered him, and the seaman held on their way, fancying themselves safe from all danger of detection. But the strains of his music had drawn round him the inhabitants of the deep to listen, and dolphins followed the ship as if chained by a spell. While he struggled in the waves, a dolphin offered him his back, and carried him mounted thereon safe to shore. At the spot where he landed, a monument of brass was afterwards erected upon the rocky shore to preserve the memory of the event. When Arian and the dolphin parted each to his own element, Arian thus poured forth his thanks. Farewell, thou faithful, friendly fish, would that I could reward thee. But thou canst not wend with me, nor I with thee. Companionship we may not have. Megalacia, queen of the deep, accord thee her favour, and thou, proud of the burden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of the deep. Arian hastened from the shore, and soon saw before him the towers of Corinth. He journeyed on, harp in hand, singing as he went, full of love and happiness, forgetting his losses and mindful only of what remained, his friend and his lyre. He entered the hospitable halls, and was soon clasped in the embrace of Perriander. I come back to thee, my friend, he said. The talent which a god bestowed has been the delight of thousands, but false knaves have stripped me of my well-earned treasure, yet I retain the consciousness of widespread fame. Then he told Perriander all the wonderful events that had befallen him, who heard him with amazement. Shall such wickedness triumph, said he, then in vain is power lodged in my hands, that we may discover the criminals you must remain here in concealment, and so they will approach without suspicion. When the ship arrived in the harbour, he summoned the mariners before him. Have you heard anything of Arian? he inquired. I anxiously look for his return. They replied, we left him well and prosperous in Tarentum. As they said these words, Arian stepped forth and faced them. His well-proportioned limbs were arrayed in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odours. His left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand, with which he struck its quartz. They fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning bolt had struck them. We meant to murder him, and he has become a god. Oh, earth, open and receive us! Then Perriander spoke, he lives, the master of the lay. Kind heaven protects the poet's life. As for you, I invoke not the spirit of vengeance. Arian wishes not your blood. Ye slaves of avarice be gone, seek some barbarous land, and never may ought beautiful delight your souls. Spencer represents Arian, mounted on his dolphin, accompanying the train of Neptune and Amphitridae. Then was there heard a most celestial sound of dainty music which did next ensue, and on the floating waters as enthroned, Arian with his harp unto him drew the ears and hearts of all that goodly crew, even when as yet the dolphin which him bore, through the Aegean seas from Pirate's view, stood still by him, astonished at his lore, and all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar. Byron in his child Harold, Canto II, alludes to the story of Arian when, describing his voyage, he represents one of the seamen making music to entertain the rest. The moon is up, by heaven a lovely eve. Long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand. Now lads on shore may sigh and maids believe such be our fate when we return to land. Meantime some rude Arian's restless hand wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love, a circle there of merry listeners stand, or to some well-known measure-feetly move, thoughtless as if on shore they were still free to rove. Ibecus. In order to understand the story of Ibecus, which follows, it is necessary to remember, first, that the theatres of the ancients were immense fabrics capable of containing from ten to thirty thousand spectators, and as they were used only on festival occasions, and admission was free to all, they were usually filled. They were without roofs and open to the sky, and the performances were in the daytime. Secondly, the appalling representation of the Furies is not exaggerated in the story. It is recorded that Escalus, the tragic poet having on one occasion represented the Furies in a chorus of a 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. Ibecus, the pious poet, was on his way to the chariot races and musical competitions held at the Isthmus of Corinth, which attracted all of Grecian lineage. Apollo had bestowed on him the gift of song, the honeyed lips of the poet, and he pursued his way with lightsome step full of the God. Already the towers of Corinth crowning the height appeared in view, and he had entered with pious awe the sacred grove of Neptune. No living object was in sight, only a flock of cranes flew overhead, taking the same courses himself in their migration to a southern climb. Good luck to you ye friendly squadrons, he exclaimed. My companions from across the sea, I take your company for a good omen. We come from far and fly in search of hospitality. May both of us meet that kind of reception, which shields the stranger guest from harm. He paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of the wood. There suddenly at a narrow pass two robbers stepped forth and barred his way. He must yield or fight. But his hand accustomed to the lyre, and not to the strife of arms, sank powerless. He called for help on men and gods, but his cry reached no defender's ear. Then here must I die, said he, in a strange land, unlamented, cut off by the hand of outlaws, and see none to avenge my cause. Soar wounded he sank to the earth when horse screamed the cranes overhead. Take up my cause ye cranes, he said, since no voice but yours answers to my cry. So saying he closed his eyes in death. The body, despoiled and mangled, was found, and though disfigured with wounds, was recognized by the friend in Corinth, who had expected him as a guest. Is it thus I find you restored to me, he exclaimed? I, who hoped to entwine your temples with the wreath of triumph in the strife of song. The guests assembled at the festival heard the tidings with dismay. All Greece felt the wound, every heart owned its loss. They crowded round the tribunal of the magistrates, and demanded vengeance on the murderers, and expiation with their blood. But what tracer mark shall point out the perpetrator from amidst the vast multitude attracted by the splendor of the feast? Did he fall by the hands of robbers, or did some private enemy slay him? The Aldous-earning sun alone can tell, for no other eye beheld it. Yet not improbably the murder even now walks in the midst of the throng, and enjoys the fruits of his crime, while vengeance seeks for him in vain. Perhaps in their own temples and closure he defies the gods, mingling freely in this throng of men that now presses into the amphitheater. For now crowded together, row on row, the multitude fill the seats, till it seems as if the very fabric would give way. The murmur of voices sounds like the roar of the sea, while the circles widening in their ascent rise tear on tear, as if they would reach the sky. And now the vast assemblage listens to the awful voice of the chorus personating the furies, which in solemn guise advances with measured step, and moves around the circuit of the theatre. Can they be mortal women who compose that awful group, and can that vast concourse of silent forms be living beings? The choristers clad in black bore in their fleshless hands torches blazing with a pitchy flame. Their cheeks were bloodless, and in the place of hair writhing and swelling serpents curled around their brows. Forming a circle these awful beings sang their hymns, rending the hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all their faculties. It rose and swelled, overpowering the sound of the instruments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart, curdling the blood. Happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt and crime. Him we avengers touch not, he treads the path of life secure from us. But woe, woe to him who has done the deed of secret murder. We the fearful family of night fasten ourselves upon his whole being. Thinks he by flight to escape us? We fly still faster in pursuit, twine our snakes around his feet, and bring him to the ground. Unwearyed we pursue, no pity checks our course, still on and on to the end of life we give him no peace nor rest. Thus the humanity sang and moved in solemn cadence, while stillness like the stillness of death sat over the whole assembly, as if in the presence of superhuman beings. And then in solemn march completing the circuit of the theatre they passed out at the back of the stage. Every heart fluttered between illusion and reality, and every breast panted with undefined terror, coiling before the awful power that watches secret crimes, and wines unseen the skein of destiny. At that moment a cry burst forth from one of the uppermost benches. Look, look, comrade, yonderer the cranes of Ibecus. And suddenly there appeared sailing across the sky a dark object, which a moment's inspection showed to be a flock of cranes flying directly over the theatre. Of Ibecus did he say? The beloved name revived the sorrow in every breast. As wave follows waves over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth to mouth the words. Of Ibecus, him whom we all lament, whom some murderers hand laid low, what have the cranes to do with him? And louder grew the swell of voices, while like a lightning's flash the thought sped through every heart. Observe the power of the humanities. The pious poet shall be avenged. The murderer has informed against himself. Seize the man who uttered that cry and the other to whom he spoke. The culprit would gladly have recalled his words, but it was too late. The faces of the murderers, pale with terror, betrayed their guilt. The people took them before the judge. They confessed their crime and suffered the punishment they deserved. Simonides. 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. In the last species of composition he particularly excelled. His genius was inclined to the pathetic, and none could touch with truer effect the chords of human sympathy. The lamentation of Denai, the most important of the fragments which remain of his poetry, is based on the tradition that Denai and her infant son were confined by the order of her father, Echricius, in a chest and set adrift on the sea. The chest floated towards the island of Seraphus, where both were rescued by Dictus, a fisherman, and carried to Polydectes, king of the country, who received and protected them. The child, Perseus, when grown up, became a famous hero, whose adventures have been recorded in a previous chapter. Simonides passed much of his life at the courts of princes, and often employed his talents in pangyric and festal odes, receiving his reward from the munificence of those whose exploits he celebrated. This employment was not derogatory, but closely resembles that of the earliest bards, such as Demoticus, described by Homer, or of Homer himself as recorded by tradition. On one occasion, when residing at the court of Scopus, king of Thessaly, the prince desired him to prepare a poem in celebration of his exploits to be recited at a banquet. In order to diversify his theme, Simonides, who was celebrated for his piety, introduced into his poem the exploits of Castor and Pollux. Such digressions were not unusual with the poets on similar occasions, and one might suppose an ordinary mortal might have been content to share the praises of the sons of Lida. But vanity is exacting, and as Scopus sat at his festal board among his courtiers and sycophants, he grudged every verse that did not rehearse his own praises. When Simonides approached to receive the promised reward, Scopus bestowed but half the expected sum, saying, Here's payment for my portion of thy performance. Castor and Pollux will doubtless compensate thee for so much as relates to them. The disconcerted poet returned to his seat amidst the laughter which followed the great man's jest. In a little time he received a message that two young men on horseback were waiting without and anxious to see him. Simonides hastened to the door but looked in vain for the visitors. Scarcely, however, had he left the banqueting-hall, when the roof fell in with a loud crash, burying Scopus and all his guests beneath the ruins. On inquiring as to the appearance of the young men who had sent for him, Simonides was satisfied that they were no other than Castor and Pollux themselves. Sappho. Sappho was a poetess who flourished in a very early age of Greek literature. Of her works few fragments remain, but they are enough to establish her claim to eminent poetical genius. The story of Sappho commonly alluded to is that she was passionately in love with a beautiful youth named Phaeon, and failing to obtain a return of affection she threw herself from the promontory of Lucadia into the sea under a superstition that those who should take that lover's leap would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love. Byron alludes to the story of Sappho in Child Harold Canto II. Child Harold sailed and passed the barren spot where sad Penelope o'er looked the wave, and onward viewed the mount not yet forgot the lover's refuge in the lesbians grave. Dark Sappho could not verse immortal save that breast imbued with such immortal fire? Twas on a grecian autumn's gentle eve, Child Harold hailed Lucadia's cape afar, etc. Those who wish to know more of Sappho and her leap are referred to the spectator, Numbers 223 and 229. See also more's Evenings in Greece. End of Chapter 25 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Meredith Hughes, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Bullfinch's Mythology, The Age of Fable by Thomas Bullfinch. Chapter 26 Endymion, Orion, Aurora and Tythonus, Asus and Galatea. Diana and Endymion Endymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock on Mount Latmos. One calm, clear night, Diana, the moon, looked down and saw him sleeping. The cold heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by his surpassing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him, and watched over him while he slept. Another story was that Jupiter bestowed on him the gift of perpetual youth, united with perpetual sleep. Of one so gifted, we can have but few adventures to record. Diana, it was said, took care that his fortune should not suffer by his inactive life, for she made his flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs from the wild beasts. The story of Endymion has a peculiar charm from the human meaning which it so thinly veils. We see in Endymion the young poet, his fancy and his heart, seeking in vain for that which can satisfy them, finding his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, and nursing there beneath the beams of the bright and silent witness, the melancholy and the ardor which consumes him. The story suggests an aspiring and poetic love, a life spent more in dreams than in reality, and an early and welcome death. SGB The Endymion of Keats is a wild and fanciful poem containing some exquisite poetry as this to the moon. The sleeping kind, couched in thy brightness, dream of fields divine, innumerable mountains rise and rise, ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes. And yet thy benediction passeth not one obscure hiding-place, one little spot where pleasure may be sent. The nested wren has thy fair face within its tranquil ken, et cetera, et cetera. Dr. Young, in the night thoughts, alludes to Endymion thus. These thoughts, O night, are thine. From thee they came like lovers' secret sighs while others slept. So Cynthia, poet's vein, in shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere, her shepherd cheered, of her enamored, less than I of thee. Fletcher, in The Faithful Shepherdess, tells, How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove, first saw the boy in Endymion, from whose eyes she took eternal fire that never dies. How she conveyed him softly in a sleep, his temples bound with poppy, to the steep head of old latmos, where she stoopes each night, gilding the mountain with her brother's light, to kiss her sweetest. Orion. Orion was the son of Neptune. He was a handsome giant and a mighty hunter. His father gave him the power of wading through the depths of the sea, or, as others say, of walking on its surface. Orion loved Merope, the daughter of Anopian, 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 Anopian constantly deferred his consent, Orion attempted to gain possession of the maiden by violence. Her father, incensed at this conduct, having made Orion drunk, deprived him of his sight and cast him out on the seashore. The blinded hero followed the sound of a cyclops hammer till he reached Lemnos and came to the forge of Vulcan, who, taking pity on him, gave him Kedalion, one of his men, to be his guide to the abode of the sun. Placing Kedalion on his shoulders, Orion proceeded to the east, and there, meeting the sun god, was restored to sight by his beam. After this he dwelt as a hunter with Diana, with whom he was a favourite, and it is even said she was about to marry him. Her brother was highly displeased and often chid her, but to no purpose. One day, observing Orion wading through the sea with his head just above the water, Apollo pointed it out to his sister and maintained that she could not hit that black thing on the sea. The archer goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim. The waves rolled the dead body of Orion to the land, and, bewailing her fatal error with many tears, Diana placed him among the stars, where he appears as a giant with a girdle, sword, lion skin, and club. Serious his dog follows him, and the Pleiades fly before him. The Pleiades were daughters of Atlas and nymphs of Diana's train. One day Orion saw them and became enamoured and pursued them. In their distress they prayed to the gods to change their form and Jupiter and Pity turned them into pigeons and then made them a constellation in the sky. Though their number was seven, only six stars are visible. For Electra, one of them, it is said left her place that she might not behold the ruin of Troy, for that city was founded by her son Dardanus. The sight had such an effect on her sisters that they have looked pale ever since. Mr. Longfellow has a poem on the occultation of Orion. The following lines are those in which he alludes to the mythic story. We must premise that on the celestial globe Orion is represented as robed in a lion's skin and wielding a club. At the moment the stars of the constellation, one by one, were quenched in the light of the moon, the poet tells us, down fell the red skin of the lion into the river at his feet. His mighty club no longer beat the forehead of the bull, but he reeled as of yore beside the sea when blinded by an opium, he sought the blacksmith at his forge and climbing up the narrow gorge, fixed his blank eyes upon the sun. Tennyson has a different theory of the Pleiades. Many a night I saw the Pleiades rising through the mellow shade, glitter like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid. Locksley Hall. Byron alludes to the lost Pleiade. Like the lost Pleiade seen no more below. See also Mrs. Hemons' verses on the same subject. Aurora and Tythonus. The goddess of the dawn, like her sister the moon, was at times inspired with the love of mortals. Her greatest favorite was Tythonus, son of Leomedon, 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 quite white she left his society, but he still had the range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food and was clad in celestial remnant. At length 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. Memnon was the son of Aurora and Tythonus. He was king of the Ethiopians and dwelt in the extreme east on the shore of the ocean. He came with his warriors to assist the kindred of his father in the War of Troy. King Priam received him with great honors and listened with admiration to his narrative of the wonders of the ocean shore. The very day after his arrival, Memnon, impatient of repose, led his troops to the field. Antilicus, the brave son of Nestor, fell by his hand and the Greeks were put to flight when Achilles appeared and restored the battle. A long and doubtful contest ensued between him and the son of Aurora. At length Victory declared for Achilles, Memnon fell and the Trojans fled in dismay. Aurora, who from her station in the sky had viewed with apprehension the danger of her son when she saw him fall, directed his brothers, the winds, to convey his body to the banks of the river Esipus in Paphlegonia. In the evening Aurora came, accompanied by the hours and the Pleiades, and wept and lamented over her son. Night, in sympathy with her grief, spread the heaven with clouds. All nature mourned for the offspring of the dawn. The Ethiopians 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 return and celebrate his obsequies in like manner. Aurora remains inconsolable for the loss of her son. Her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morning in the form of dew drops on the grass. Unlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, there still exist some memorials of this. On the banks of the river Nile, in Egypt, are two colossal statues, one of which is said to be the statue of Memnon. Ancient writers record that when the first rays of the rising sun fall upon this statue, a sound is heard to issue from it, which they compare to the snapping of a harp string. There is some doubt about the identification of the existing statue, with the one described by the ancients, and the mysterious sounds are still more doubtful. Yet there are not wanting some modern testimonies 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 late 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 is predisposed to believe its powers. The vocal statue of Memnon is a favorite subject of illusion with the poets. Darwin, in his botanic garden, says, So to the sacred sun in Memnon's vein, spontaneous concords quired the matins' 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. Book 1, 1, 182. Asus and Galatea Silla was a fair virgin of Sicily, a favorite of the sea-nymphs. She had many suitors, but repelled them all, and would go to the grotto of Galatea and tell her how she was persecuted. One day the goddess, while Silla dressed her hair, listened to the story and then replied, Yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the not ungentle race of men, whom, if you will, you can repel. But I, the daughter of Narius, and protected by such a band of sisters, found no escape from the passion of the Cyclops, but in the depths of the sea. And tears stopped her utterance, which when the pitying maiden had wiped away with her delicate finger and soothed the goddess, Tell me, dearest, said she, the cause of your grief. Galatea then said, Asus was the son of Faunus and Anayad. His father and mother loved him dearly, but their love was not equal to mine. For the beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, and he was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to darken his cheeks. As much as I sought his society, so much did the Cyclops seek mine. And if you ask me whether my love for Asus or my hatred of Polyphemus was the stronger, I cannot tell you. They were in equal measure. O Venus, how great is thy power! This fierce giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless stranger escaped unharmed, who defied even Jove himself, learned to feel what love was, and, touched with a passion for me, forgot his flocks and his well-stored caverns. Then, for the first time, he began to take some care of his appearance and to try to make himself agreeable. He harrowed those coarse locks of his with a comb and mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harsh features in the water and composed his countenance. His love of slaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood prevailed no more, and ships that touched at his island went away in safety. He paced up and down the seashore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavy tread, and, when weary, lay tranquilly in his cave. There is a cliff which projects into the sea, which washes it on either side. Thither one day the huge Cyclops ascended and sat down while his flocks spread themselves around. Laying down his staff, which would have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail, and taking his instrument compacted he made the hills and the waters echo the music of his song. I lay hid under a rock by the side of my beloved Asus and listened to the distant strain. It was full of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingled with passionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty. When he had finished he rose up and, like a raging bull that cannot stand still, wandered off into the woods. Asus and I thought no more of him, till on a sudden he came to a spot which gave him a view of us as we sat. I see you, he exclaimed, and I will make this the last of your love-neetings. His voice was a roar such as an angry Cyclops alone could utter. Etna trembled at the sound. I, overcome with terror, plunged into the water. Asus turned and fled, crying, Save me, Galatea! Save me, my parents! The Cyclops pursued him and, tearing a rock from the side of the mountain, mingled at him. Though only a corner of it touched him, it overwhelmed him. All that fate left in my power I did for Asus. I endowed him with the honors of his grandfather, the river-god. The purple blood flowed out from under the rock, but by degrees grew paler and looked like the stream of a river rendered turbid by rains. And in time it became clear. The rock cleaved open and the water, as it gushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing murmur. Thus Asus was changed into a river, and the river retains the name of Asus. Dryden, in his Simon and Iphigenia, has told the story of a clown converted into a gentleman by the power of love in a way that shows traces of kindred to the old story of Galatea and the Cyclops. What not his father's care, nor Tudor's art, could plant with pains in his unpolished heart. The best instructor, Love, at once inspired, as barren grounds to fruitfulness are fired. Love taught him shame, and shame with love at strife soon taught the sweet civilities of life. End of Chapter 26 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Reading by Robin Cotter Toronto, Ontario December, 2006 Bullfinch's Mythology The Age of Fable by Thomas Bullfinch Chapter 27 The Trojan War Minerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one occasion she did a very foolish thing. She entered into competition with Juno and Venus for the prize of beauty. It happened thus. At the nuptials of Palaeus and Thetis all the gods were 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. But her, not willing to decide in so delicate a matter, sent the goddesses to Mount Ida where the beautiful shepherd Paras was tending his flocks and to him was committed the decision. The goddesses accordingly appeared before him. Juno promised him power and riches, Minerva glory and renown and war and Venus, the fairest of women for his wife each attempting to bias his decision in her own favour. Paras decided in favour of Venus and gave her the golden apple, thus making the two other goddesses his enemies. Under the protection of Venus, Paras sailed to Greece and was hospitably received by Menelaus, king of Sparta. Now Helen, the wife of Menelaus was the very woman whom Venus had destined for Paras, the fairest of her sex. She had been sought as a bride by numerous suitors and before her decision was made known they all, at the suggestion of Ulysses, one of their number, took an oath that they would defend her from all injury and avenge her cause if necessary. She chose Menelaus and was living with him happily when Paras became their guest. Paras, aided by Venus, persuaded her to elope with him and carried her to Troy. Once arose the famous Trojan War, the theme of the greatest poems of antiquity, those of Homer and Virgil. Menelaus called upon his brother Chieftains of Greece to fulfil their pledge and joined him in his efforts to recover his wife. They generally came forward but Ulysses, who had married Penelope and was very happy in his wife and child had no disposition to embark in such a troublesome affair. He, therefore, hung back and Palamedes was sent to urge him. When Palamedes arrived at Ithaca, Ulysses pretended to be mad. He yoked an ass and an ox together to the plough and began to sow salt. Palamedes, to try him, placed the infant Telemachus before the plough, whereupon the father turned the plough aside, showing plainly that he was no madman and after that could no longer refuse to fulfil his promise. Being now himself gained for the undertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other reluctant chiefs, especially Achilles. This hero was the son of that Thetis, at whose marriage the apple of discord had been thrown among the goddesses. Thetis was herself one of the immortals, a cenymph, and knowing that her son was fated to perish before Troy if he went on the expedition, she endeavored to prevent his going. She sent him away to the court of King Lecomides and induced him to conceal himself in the disguise of a maiden among the daughters of the king. Ulysses, hearing he was there, went disguised as a merchant to the palace and offered for sale female ornaments, among which he had placed some arms. While the king's daughters were engrossed with the other contents of the merchant's pack, Achilles handled the weapons and thereby betrayed himself to the keen eye of Ulysses, who found no great difficulty in persuading him to disregard his mother's prudent counsels and join his countrymen in the war. Priam was king of Troy and Paris, the shepherd and seducer of Helen, was his son. Paris had been brought up in obscurity because there were certain ominous forebodings connected with him from his infancy that he would be the ruin of the state. These forebodings seemed at length likely to be realized for the Grecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had ever been fitted out. Agamemnon, king of Mycenae and brother of the injured Menelaus was chosen commander in chief. Achilles was their most illustrious warrior after him ranked Ajax gigantic in size and of great courage but dull of intellect. Diomedes, second only to Achilles and all the qualities of a hero. Ulysses, famous for his sagacity and Nestor, the oldest of the Grecian chiefs and one to whom they all looked up for counsel. But Troy was no feeble enemy. Priam the king was now old but he had been a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good government at home and numerous alliances with his neighbors. But the principal stay and support of his throne was his son Hector one of the noblest characters painted by heathen antiquity. He felt from the first a presentiment of the fall of his country but still persevered in his heroic resistance yet by no means justified the wrong which brought this danger upon her. He was united in marriage with Andromache and as a husband and father his character was not less admirable than as a warrior. The principal leaders on the side of the Trojans besides Hector were Aeneas and Dephobas Glaucus and Sarpidon. After two years of preparation the Greek fleet and army assembled in the port of Aulis in Boatia. Here Agamemnon in hunting killed a stag which was sacred to Diana and the goddess in return visited the army with pestilence and produced a calm which prevented the ships from leaving the port. Glaucus the soothsayer thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgin goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin on her altar and that none other but the daughter of the offender would be acceptable. Aenean however reluctant yielded his consent and the maiden Iphigenia was sent for under the pretense that she was to be married to Achilles. When she was about to be sacrificed the goddess relented and snatched her away leaving a hind in her place and Iphigenia enveloped in a cloud was carried to Taurus where Diana made her priestess of her temple. Aenean however reluctant to let go of her woman makes Iphigenia thus describe her feelings at the moment of sacrifice. Quote I was cut off from hope in that sad place which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears my father held his hand upon my face I blinded by my tears still strove to speak my voice was thick with sighs see me die the tall masts quivered as they lay afloat the temples and the people and the shore one drew a sharp knife through my tender throat slowly and nothing more unquote the wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and brought the forces to the coast of Troy the Trojans came to oppose their landing and at the first onset Protossalis had left at home his wife Leodamia who was most tenderly attached to him when the news of his death reached her she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with him only three hours the request was granted Mercury led Protossalis back to the upper world and when he died a second time Leodamia died with him there was a story that the nymphs planted elm trees around his grave which grew very well till they were high enough to command a view of Troy and then withered away while fresh branches sprang from the roots Wordsworth has taken the story of Protossalis and Leodamia for the subject of a poem it seems the oracle had declared that victory should be the lot of that party from which should fall the first victim to the war on his brief return to earth as relating to Leodamia the story of his fate quote the wished for wind was given I then revolved the oracle upon the silent sea and if no worthier led the way resolved that of a thousand vessels mine should be the foremost prow and pressing to the strand mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand where off time's bitter was the pang when of thy loss I thought beloved 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 flow to cry behold they tremble haughty their array yet of their number and dignity away old frailties then recurred but lofty thought in act embodied my deliverance wrought ellipsis upon the side of Hellespont such faith was entertained a knot of spirey trees for ages grew from out the tomb of him for whom she died and ever when such stature they had gained that Illiam's walls a constant interchange of growth and blight unquote the Iliad the war continued without decisive results for nine years then an event occurred which seemed likely to be fatal to the cause of the Greeks and that was a quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon it is at this point that the Greeks though unsuccessful against Troy had taken the neighbouring and allied cities and in the division of the spoil a female captive by name Criseus daughter of Crises priest of Apollo had fallen to the share of Agamemnon Crises came bearing the sacred emblems of his office and begged the release of his daughter Agamemnon refused to allow the Greeks until they should be forced to yield their prey Apollo granted the prayer of his priest and sent pestilence into the Grecian camp then a council was called to deliberate how to allay the wrath of the gods and avert the plague Achilles boldly charged their misfortunes upon Agamemnon as caused by his withholding Criseus Agamemnon enraged to him and her stead Briseus a maiden who had fallen to Achilles's share in the division of the spoil Achilles submitted but forthwith declared that he would take no further part in the war he withdrew his forces from the general camp and openly avowed his intention of returning home to Greece the gods and goddesses interested themselves as much in this famous war it was well known to them that fate had decreed that Troy should fall at last if her enemies should persevere and not voluntarily abandon the enterprise yet there was room enough left for chance 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 upon their charms by Paris were hostile to the Trojans Venus for the opposite cause favoured them Venus enlisted her admirer Mars on the same side but Neptune favoured the Greeks Apollo was neutral sometimes taking one side sometimes the other and Jove himself though he loved the good King Priam yet exercised a degree of impartiality not however without exceptions Thetis the mother of Achilles she repaired immediately to Jove's palace and besought him to make the Greeks repent of their injustice to Achilles by granting success to the Trojan arms Jupiter consented and in the battle which ensued the Trojans were completely successful the Greeks were driven from the field and took refuge in their ships then Agamemnon called a council of his wisest and bravest chiefs Nestor advised that an embassy should be sent to Achilles to persuade him to return to the field that Agamemnon should yield the maiden the cause of the dispute with ample gifts to atone for the wrong he had done Agamemnon consented and Ulysses, Ajax and Phoenix 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 field and persisted in his resolution to embark for Greece without delay the Greeks had constructed a rampart around their ships and now instead of besieging Troy they were in a manner besieged themselves within their rampart the next day after the unsuccessful embassy to Achilles a battle was fought and the Trojans, favored by Jove were successful and succeeded in forcing a passage through the Grecian rampart and were about to set fire to the ships Neptune, seeing the Greeks so pressed came to their rescue he appeared in the form of Calcus the prophet encouraged the warriors with his shouts and appealed to each individually till he raised their ardor to such a pitch that they forced the Trojans to give way Ajax performed prodigies with a collar and at length encountered Hector Ajax 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 the double guard prevented its penetrating and it fell harmless then Ajax seizing a huge stone hurled it at Hector it struck him in the neck and stretched him on the plane his followers instantly seized him and bore him off stunned and wounded 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 that goddess had arrayed herself and all her charms the crown all had borrowed a Venus, her girdle called Cestus which had the effect to heighten the wearer's charms to such degree that they were quite irresistible so prepared Juno went to join her husband who sat on Olympus watching the battle when he beheld her she looked so charming that the fondness of his early love revived and forgetting the contending armies and all other affairs of state he thought only of her so as it would but this absorption did not continue long and when upon turning his eyes downward he beheld Hector stretched on the plane almost lifeless from pain and bruises he dismissed Juno in a rage commanding her to send Iris and Apollo to him when Iris came he sent her with a stern message to Neptune ordering him instantly to quit the field Apollo was dispatched Hector's bruises and to in spirit his heart these orders were obeyed with such speed that while the battle still raged Hector returned to the field and Neptune betook himself to his own dominions an arrow from Paris's bow wounded Machion son of Ace Colapius who inherited his father's art of healing and was therefore of great value to the Greeks as their surgeon besides being one of their bravest warriors Nestor took Machion in his chariot and conveyed him from the field as they passed the ships of Achilles that hero looking out over the field saw the chariot of Nestor and recognized the old chief but could not discern who the wounded chief was so calling Patroclus his companion and dearest friend he sent him to Nestor's tent to inquire Patroclus arriving at Nestor's tent saw Machion 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 departing for Troy Achilles and himself had been charged by their respective fathers with different advice Achilles to aspire to the highest pitch of glory Patroclus as the elder to keep watch over his friend and to guide his inexperience now said Nestor is the time for such influence if the gods so please thou mayest win him back to the common cause but if not let him at least send his soldiers to the field and come now Patroclus clad in his armor and perhaps the very sight of it may drive back the Trojans Patroclus was strongly moved with this address and hastened back to Achilles revolving in his mind all he had seen and heard he told the prince the sad condition of affairs at the camp of their late associates Diomedes, Ulysses, Agamemnon, Macion 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 site relented so far as to grant Patroclus his request to lead the Mermidans for so were Achilles soldiers called to the field and to lend him his armor that he might thereby strike more terror into the minds of the Trojans without delay the soldiers were marshalled Patroclus put on the radiant armor and mounted the chariot of Achilles and led forth the men ardent for battle but before he went Achilles strictly charged him that he should 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 Mermidans at once plunged into the contest where it raged, hottest at the site of which the joyful Gratians shouted and the ships re-echoed the acclaim the Trojans at the site of 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 left and allowed the Grecians to retake it and extinguish the flames then the rest of the Trojans fled and dismay Ajax, Menelaus and the two sons of Nestor performed prodigies of valor Hector was forced to return his horse's heads and retire from the enclosure leaving his men entangled in the Fosse to escape as they could Patroclus drove them before him slaying many none daring to make a stand against him at last Sarpadon, son of Jove ventured to oppose himself in fight to Patroclus Jupiter looked down upon him and would have snatched him from the fate which awaited him who no hinted that if he did so it would induce all others of the inhabitants of heaven to interpose in like manner whenever any of their offspring were endangered to which reason Jove yielded Sarpadon threw his spear but missed Patroclus but Patroclus threw his with better success it pierced Sarpadon's breast and he fell and calling to his friends to save his body from the foe then a furious contest arose for the possession of the corpse the Greeks succeeded and stripped Sarpadon of his armor but Jove would not allow the remains of his son to be dishonored and by his command Apollo snatched from the midst of the combatants the body of Sarpadon and committed it to the care of the twin brothers death and sleep by whom it was transported to the general rites thus far Patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish in repelling the Trojans and relieving his countrymen but now came a change of fortune Hector, born in his chariot confronted him Patroclus threw a vast stone at Hector which missed its aim but smote Sebrianus the charioteer and knocked him from the car to 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 Phoebus took part against Patroclus he struck the helmet from his head and the lance from his hand at the same moment 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 armor and put on that of Achilles then returned to the fight Ajax and Menelaus defended the body and Hector and his bravest warriors settled to capture it the battle raged with equal fortunes when Jove enveloped the whole face of heaven with a dark cloud the lightning flashed the thunder roared and Ajax looking round for someone whom he might dispatch to Achilles to tell him of the death of his friend and of the imminent danger that his remains would fall into the hands of the enemy could see no suitable messenger it was then that he exclaimed quote Father of heaven and earth deliver thou Achilles host from darkness clear the skies give day and since thy sovereign will is such destruction with it but oh give us day unquote cowper or as rendered by Pope quote Lord of earth and air the light of heaven restore give me to see and Ajax asks no more if Greece must perish we thy will obey but let us perish in the face of day unquote Jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds then Ajax sent Antilochus to Achilles with the intelligence of Patroclus's death and of the conflict raging of the ships closely pursued by Hector and Aeneas and the rest of the Trojans Achilles heard the fate of his friend with such distress that Antilochus feared for a while that he would destroy himself his groans reached the ears of his mother Thedas far down in the depths of ocean where she abode and she hastened to him to inquire the cause of the war and suffered his friend to fall a victim to it but 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 him if he would wait till the morrow she would procure from him a suit of armor from Vulcan more than equal to that he had lost 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 Thedas 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 then a helmet crusted with gold and a corselet and greaves of impenetrable temper all perfectly adapted to his form and of consummate workmanship it was all done in one night and Thedas receiving it descended with it to earth and laid it down at Achilles' feet at the dawn of day the first glow of pleasure that Achilles had felt since the death of Petroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor and now arrayed in it he went forth into the camp calling all the chiefs to counsel when they were all assembled he 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 all the blame on At the goddess of discord and thereupon complete reconcilment then Achilles went forth to battle inspired with a rage and thirst for vengeance that made him irresistible the bravest warriors fled before him or fell by his lance Hector cautioned by Apollo kept aloof but the god assuming the form of one of Priam's sons Lycaon urged Aeneas to encounter the terrible warrior Aeneas though he felt himself unequal he did not decline the combat he hurled his spear with all his force against the shield the work of Vulcan it was formed of five metal plates two were of brass two of tin and one of gold the spear pierced two thicknesses but was stopped in the third Achilles threw his with better success it pierced through the shield of Aeneas but glanced near his shoulder and made no wound then Aeneas seized a stone such as two men of modern times could hardly lift and was about to throw it and Achilles with sword drawn was about to rush upon him when Neptune who looked out upon the contest moved with pity for Aeneas who he saw would surely fall a victim if not speedily rescued spread a cloud between the combatants and lifting Aeneas from the ground bore him over the heads of warriors 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 the other champions but none dared stand before him and Priam looking down from the city walls beheld his whole army in full flight towards 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 encountered Achilles for a while then turned to fly and taken the way apart from the city Achilles pursued and had chased his supposed victim far from the walls when Apollo disclosed himself receiving how he had been deluded gave up the chase but when the rest had escaped into the town Hector stood without determined to await the combat his old father called to him from the walls and begged him to retire nor tempt the encounter his mother Hecuba also besought him to the same effect but all in vain how can I he said to himself by whose command seek safety for myself against a single foe but what if I offer him to yield up Helen and all her treasures and ample of our own beside ah no, it is too late he would not even 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 flailed him and he fled 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 wariness then Pallas assuming the form of defobus Hector's bravest brother appeared suddenly at his side Hector saw him with delight and thus strengthened stopped his flight and turned to meet Achilles Hector threw his spear which struck the shield of Achilles and bounded back he turned to receive another from the hand of defobus but defobus was gone then Hector understood his doom and said alas it is plain this is my hour to die I thought defobus at hand but Pallas deceived me and he is still in Troy in glorious so saying he drew his falchion from his side and rushed at once to combat Achilles secured 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 and feebly said 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 no trust me not shall save thy carcass from the dogs though twenty ransoms and thy weight and gold were offered I would refuse it all so saying he 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 what words can tell the grief of King Priam and Queen Hecuba at this site his people could scarce restrain the old king from rushing forth he threw himself in the dust and besought them each by name his distress was not less violent the citizens stood round them weeping the sound of the morning 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 sight 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 a captive and her son dependent for his bread on the charity of strangers when Achilles and the Greeks had taken the revenge on the killer of Patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral rites to their friend a pile was erected and the body burned with due salinity and then ensued games of strength and skill chariot races, wrestling, boxing and archery then the chiefs sat down after that retired to rest but Achilles neither partook of the feast nor of sleep the recollection of his lost friend kept him awake remembering 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 leaving him at length stretched in the dirt but Apollo would not permit the body to be torn or disfigured with all this abuse but preserved it free from all taint or defilement while Achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing brave Hector Jupiter and pity summoned Thetis to his presence he told her to go to her son and prevail on him to restore the body of Hector to his friends and to encourage him to go to Achilles and beg the body of his son Iris delivered her message and Priam immediately 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 when all was ready the old king with a single companion as aged as himself the herald Ideas drove forth from the gates parting there with Hecuba his queen and all his friends who lamented him as going to his certain death but Jupiter beholding with compassion the venerable king sent Mercury to be his guide and protector presented himself to the aged couple and while at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or yield the god approached and grasping Priam's hand offered to be their guide to Achilles' tent Priam gladly accepted his offered service and he, mounting the carriage assumed the reins and soon conveyed them to the tent of Achilles Mercury's wand put to sleep all the guards he introduced Priam into the tent where Achilles sat attended by two of his warriors the old 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 thy own father full of days like me and trembling on the gloomy verge of life perhaps even now some neighbor chief oppresses him there was none at hand to sucker him in his distress yet doubtless knowing that Achilles lives he still rejoices hoping that one day he shall see thy face again but no comfort cheers me whose bravest sons so late the flower of Iliam all have fallen yet one I had one more than all the rest the strength of my age whom fighting for his country I come to redeem his body bringing an estimable ransom with me Achilles reverence the gods recollect thy father 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 thus spake 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 moved there too by the evident will of Jove so saying he arose and 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 which they placed on the litter and the garments over it that not unveiled it should be borne back to Troy then Achilles dismissed the old king with his attendants having first pledged himself to allow a truce of twelve days for the funeral solemnities as the litter approached the city and was described from the walls the people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of their hero for most of all the mother and the wife of Hector came to the lifeless body renewed their lamentations the people all 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 completely burned they quenched the cinders with wine collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn which they buried in the earth and reared a pile of stones over the spot such honors Ilium to her hero paid and peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade end of chapter twenty-seven