Legendary Heroes



HEROES OF GREECE AND ROME


PERSEUS


PERSEUS AND HIS MOTHER

Once upon a time there were two Princes who were twins. They lived in a pleasant vale far away in Hellas. They had fruitful meadows and vineyards, sheep and oxen, great herds of horses, and all that men could need to make them blest. And yet they were wretched, because they were jealous of each other.
From the moment they were born they began to quarrel, and when they grew up, each tried to take away the other's share of the kingdom and keep all for himself.
And there came a prophet to one of the hard-hearted Princes and said, "Because you have risen up against your own family, your own family shall rise up against you. Because you have sinned against your kindred, by your kindred shall you be punished. Your daughter Danæ shall bear a son, and by that son's hands you shall die. So the gods have said, and it shall surely come to pass."
At that the hard-hearted Prince was very much afraid, but he did not mend his ways. For when he became King, he shut up his fair daughter Danæ in a cavern underground, lined with brass, that no one might come near her. So he fancied himself more cunning than the gods.
Now it came to pass that in time Danæ bore a son, so beautiful a babe that any but the King would have had pity on it. But he had no pity, for he took Danæ and her babe down to the seashore, and put them into a great chest and thrust them out to sea, that the winds and the waves might carry them whithersoever they would.
And away and out to sea before the northwest wind floated the mother and her babe, while all who watched them wept, save that cruel King.
So they floated on and on, and the chest danced up and down upon the billows, and the babe slept in its mother's arms. But the poor mother could not sleep, but watched and wept, and she sang to her babe as they floated.
Now they are past the last blue headland and in the open sea. There is nothing round them but waves, and the sky and the wind. But the waves are gentle and the sky is clear, and the breeze is tender and low.
http://www.kidsgen.com/stories/legen...and-dictys.jpgSo a night passed and a day, and a long day it was to Danæ, and another night and day beside, till Danæ was faint with hunger and weeping, and yet no land appeared.
And all the while the babe slept quietly, and at last poor Danæ drooped her head and fell asleep likewise, with her cheek against her babe's.
After a while she was awakened suddenly, for the chest was jarring and grinding, and the air was full of sound. She looked up, and over her head were mighty cliffs, and around her rocks and breakers and flying flakes of foam.
She clasped her hands together and shrieked aloud for help. And when she cried, help met her, for now there came over the rocks a tall and stately man, and looked down wondering upon poor Danæ, tossing about in the chest among the waves.
He wore a rough cloak, and on his head a broad hat to shade his face, and in his hand he carried a trident, which is a three-pronged fork for spearing fish, and over his shoulder was a casting net.
But Danæ could see that he was no common man by his height and his walk, and his flowing golden hair and beard, and by the two servants who came behind him carrying baskets for his fish.
She had hardly time to look at him, before he had laid aside his trident and leapt down the rocks, and thrown his casting net so surely over Danæ and the chest, that he drew it and her and the babe safe upon a ledge of rock.
Then the fisherman took Danæ by the hand and lifted her out of the chest and said, "O beautiful damsel, what strange chance has brought you to this island in so frail a ship? Who are you, and whence? Surely you are some king's daughter, and this boy belongs to the gods." And as he spoke he pointed to the babe, for its face shone like the morning star.
But Danæ only held down her head and sobbed out, "Tell me to what land I have come, and among what men I have fallen."
And he said, "Polydectes is King of this isle, and he is my brother. Men call me Dictys the Netter, because I catch the fish of the shore."
Then Danæ fell down at his feet and embraced his knees and cried, "O Sir, have pity upon a stranger, whom cruel doom has driven to your land, and let me live in your house as a servant. But treat me honorably, for I was once a king's daughter, and this my boy is of no common race. I will not be a charge to you, or eat the bread of idleness, for I am more skilful in weaving and embroidery than all the maidens of my land."
And she was going on, but Dictys stopped her and raised her up and said, "My daughter, I am old, and my hairs are growing gray, while I have no children to make my home cheerful. Come with me, then, and you shall be a daughter to me and to my wife, and this babe shall be our grandchild."
So Danæ was comforted and went home with Dictys, the good fisherman, and was a daughter to him and to his wife, till fifteen years were past.

HOW PERSEUS VOWED A RASH VOW

Fifteen years were past and gone, and the babe was now grown to be a tall lad and a sailor.
His mother called him Perseus, but all the people in the isle called him the King of the Immortals.
For though he was but fifteen, Perseus was taller by a head than any man in the island. And he was brave and truthful, and gentle and courteous, for good old Dictys had trained him well, and well it was for Perseus that he had done so. For now Danæ and her son fell into great danger, and Perseus had need of all his strength to defend his mother and himself.
Polydectes, the King of the island, was not a good man like his brother Dictys, but he was greedy and cunning and cruel.
And when he saw fair Danæ, he wanted to marry her. But she would not, for she did not love him, and cared for no one but her boy.
At last Polydectes became furious, and while Perseus was away at sea, he took poor Danæ away from Dictys, saying, "If you will not be my wife, you shall be my slave."
So Danæ was made a slave, and had to fetch water from the well, and grind in the mill.
But Perseus was far away over the seas, little thinking that his mother was in great grief and sorrow.
Now one day, while the ship was lading, Perseus wandered into a pleasant wood to get out of the sun, and sat down on the turf and fell asleep. And as he slept a strange dream came to him, the strangest dream he had ever had in his life.
There came a lady to him through the wood, taller than he, or any mortal man, but beautiful exceedingly, with great gray eyes, clear and piercing, but strangely soft and mild. On her head was a helmet, and in her hand a spear. And over her shoulder, above her long blue robes, hung a goat-skin, which bore up a mighty shield of brass, polished like a mirror.
She stood and looked at him with her clear gray eyes. And Perseus dropped his eyes, trembling and blushing, as the wonderful lady spoke. "Perseus, you must do an errand for me."
"Who are you, lady? And how do you know my name?"
Then the strange lady, whose name was Athene, laughed, and held up her brazen shield, and cried, "See here, Perseus, dare you face such a monster as this and slay it, that I may place its head upon this shield?"
And in the mirror of the shield there appeared a face, and as Perseus looked on it his blood ran cold. It was the face of a beautiful woman, but her cheeks were pale, and her lips were thin. Instead of hair, vipers wreathed about her temples and shot out their forked tongues, and she had claws of brass.
Perseus looked awhile and then said, "If there is anything so fierce and ugly on earth, it were a noble deed to kill it.

Where can I find the monster?"
Then the strange lady smiled again and said, "You are too young, for this is Medusa the Gorgon. Return to your home, and when you have done the work that awaits you there, you may be worthy to go in search of the monster."
Perseus would have spoken, but the strange lady vanished, and he awoke, and behold it was a dream.
So he returned home, and the first thing he heard was that his mother was a slave in the house of Polydectes.
Grinding his teeth with rage, he went out, and away to the King's palace, and through the men's rooms and the women's rooms, and so through all the house, till he found his mother sitting on the floor turning the stone hand-mill, and weeping as she turned it.
And he lifted her up and kissed her, and bade her follow him forth. But before they could pass out of the room Polydectes came in.
When Perseus saw the King, he flew upon him and cried, "Tyrant! is this thy mercy to strangers and widows? Thou shalt die."

And because he had no sword he caught up the stone hand-mill, and lifted it to dash out Polydectes's brains.
But his mother clung to him, shrieking, and good Dictys too entreated him to remember that the cruel King was his brother.
Then Perseus lowered his hand, and Polydectes, who had been trembling all this while like a coward, let Perseus and his mother pass.
So Perseus took his mother to the temple of Athené, and there the priestess made her one of the temple sweepers. And there they knew that she would be safe, for not even Polydectes would dare to drag her out of the temple. And there Perseus and the good Dictys and his wife came to visit her every day.
As for Polydectes, not being able to get Danæ by force, he cast about how he might get her by cunning. He was sure he could never get back Danæ as long as Perseus was in the island, so he made a plot to get rid of him. First he pretended to have forgiven Perseus, and to have forgotten Danæ, so that for a while all went smoothly. Next he proclaimed a great feast and invited to it all the chiefs and the young men of the island, and among them Perseus, that they might all do him homage as their King, and eat of his banquet in his hall.
On the appointed day they all came, and as the custom was then, each guest brought with him a present for the King. One brought a horse, another a shawl, or a ring, or a sword, and some brought baskets of grapes, but Perseus brought nothing, for he had nothing to bring, being only a poor sailor lad.
He was ashamed, however, to go into the King's presence without a gift. So he stood at the door, sorrowfully watching the rich men go in, and his face grew very red as they pointed at him and smiled and whispered, "And what has Perseus to give?"
Perseus blushed and stammered, while all the proud men round laughed and mocked, till the lad grew mad with shame, and hardly knowing what he said, cried out:
"A present! See if I do not bring a nobler one than all of yours together!"
"Hear the boaster! What is the present to be?" cried they all, laughing louder than ever.
Then Perseus remembered his strange dream, and he cried aloud, "The head of Medusa the Gorgon!"
He was half afraid after he had said the words, for all laughed louder than ever, and Polydectes loudest of all, while he said:
"You have promised to bring me the Gorgon's head. Then never appear again in this island without it. Go!"
Perseus saw that he had fallen into a trap, but he went out without a word.
Down to the cliffs he went, and looked across the broad blue sea, and wondered if his dream were true.
"Athene, was my dream true? Shall I slay the Gorgon?" he prayed. "Rashly and angrily I promised, but wisely and patiently will I perform."
But there was no answer nor sign, not even a cloud in the sky.
Three times Perseus called, weeping, "Rashly and angrily I promised, but wisely and patiently will I perform."
Then he saw afar off a small white cloud, as bright as silver. And as it touched the cliffs, it broke and parted, and within it appeared Athene, and beside her a young man, whose eyes were like sparks of fire.
And they came swiftly towards Perseus, and he fell down and worshiped, for he knew they were more than mortal.
But Athene spoke gently to him and bade him have no fear. "Perseus," she said, "you have braved Polydectes, and done manfully. Dare you brave Medusa the Gorgon?"
Perseus answered, "Try me, for since you spoke to me, new courage has come into my soul."
And Athene said, "Perseus, this deed requires a seven years' journey, in which you cannot turn back nor escape. If your heart fails, you must die, and no man will ever find your bones."
And Perseus said, "Tell me, O fair and wise Athene, how I can do but this one thing, and then, if need be, die."
Then Athene smiled and said, "Be patient and listen. You must go northward till you find the Three Gray Sisters, who have but one eye and one tooth amongst them. Ask them the way to the daughters of the Evening Star, for they will tell you the way to the Gorgon, that you may slay her. But beware! for her eyes are so terrible that whosoever looks on them is turned to stone."
"How am I to escape her eyes?" said Perseus; "will she not freeze me too?"
"You shall take this polished shield," said Athene, "and look, not at her herself, but at her image in the shield, so you may strike her safely. And when you have struck off her head, wrap it, with your face turned away, in the folds of the goat-skin on which the shield hangs. So you bring it safely back to me and win yourself renown and a place among heroes."
Then said Perseus, "I will go, though I die in going. But how shall I cross the seas without a ship? And who will show me the way? And how shall I slay her, if her scales be iron and brass?"
But the young man who was with Athene spoke, "These sandals of mine will bear you across the seas, and over hill and dale like a bird, as they bear me all day long. The sandals themselves will guide you on the road, for they are divine and cannot stray, and this sword itself will kill her, for it is divine and needs no second stroke. Arise and gird them on, and go forth."
So Perseus arose, and girded on the sandals and the sword.
And Athene cried, "Now leap from the cliff and be gone!"
Then Perseus looked down the cliff and shuddered, but he was ashamed to show his dread, and he leaped into the empty air.
And behold! instead of falling, he floated, and stood, and ran along the sky.

HOW PERSEUS SLEW THE GORGON

So Perseus started on his journey, going dryshod over land and sea, and his heart was high and joyful, for the sandals bore him each day a seven days' journey.
And at last by the shore of a freezing sea, beneath the cold winter moon, he found the Three Gray Sisters. There was no living thing around them, not a fly, not a moss upon the rocks.
They passed their one eye each to the other, but for all that they could not see, and they passed the one tooth from one to the other, but for all that they could not eat, and they sat in the full glare of the moon, but they were none the warmer for her beams.
And Perseus said, "Tell me, O Venerable Mothers, the path to the daughters of the Evening Star."
They heard his voice, and then one cried, "Give me the eye that I may see him," and another, "Give me the tooth that I may bite him," but they had no answer for his question.
Then Perseus stepped close to them, and watched as they passed the eye from hand to hand. And as they groped about, he held out his own hand gently, till one of them put the eye into it, fancying that it was the hand of her sister.
At that Perseus sprang back and laughed and cried, "Cruel old women, I have your eye, and I will throw it into the sea, unless you tell me the path to the daughters of the Evening Star and swear to me that you tell me right."
Then they wept and chattered and scolded, but all in vain. They were forced to tell the truth, though when they told it, Perseus could hardly make out the way. But he gave them back the eye and leaped away to the southward, leaving the snow and ice behind.
At last he heard sweet voices singing, and he guessed that he was come to the garden of the daughters of the Evening Star.
When they saw him they trembled and said, "Are you come to rob our garden and carry off our golden fruit?"
But Perseus answered, "I want none of your golden fruit. Tell me the way which leads to the Gorgon that I may go on my way and slay her."
"Not yet, not yet, fair boy," they answered, "come dance with us around the trees in the garden."
"I cannot dance with you, fair maidens, so tell me the way to the Gorgon, lest I wander and perish in the waves."
Then they sighed and wept, and answered, "The Gorgon! She will freeze you into stone."
But Perseus said, "The gods have lent me weapons, and will give me wisdom to use them."
Then the fair maidens told him that the Gorgon lived on an island far away, but that whoever went near the island must wear the hat of darkness, so that he could not himself be seen. And one of the fair maidens held in her hand the magic hat.
While all the maidens kissed Perseus and wept over him, he was only impatient to be gone. So at last they put the magic hat upon his head, and he vanished out of their sight.
And Perseus went on boldly, past many an ugly sight, till he heard the rustle of the Gorgons' wings and saw the glitter of their brazen claws. Then he knew that it was time to halt, lest Medusa should freeze him into stone.
He thought awhile with himself and remembered Athene's words. Then he rose into the air, and held the shield above his head and looked up into it, that he might see all that was below him.
And he saw three Gorgons sleeping, as huge as elephants. He knew that they could not see him, because the hat of darkness hid him, and yet he trembled as he sank down near them, so terrible were those brazen claws.
Medusa tossed to and fro restlessly in her sleep. Her long neck gleamed so white in the mirror that Perseus had not the heart to strike. But as he looked, from among her tresses the vipers' heads awoke and peeped up, with their bright dry eyes, and showed their fangs and hissed. And Medusa as she tossed showed her brazen claws, and Perseus saw that for all her beauty she was as ugly as the others.
Then he came down and stepped to her boldly, and looked steadfastly on his mirror, and struck with his sword stoutly once, and he did not need to strike again.
He wrapped the head in the goat-skin, turning away his eyes, and sprang into the air aloft, faster than he ever sprang before.
And well his brave sandals bore him through cloud and sunshine across the shoreless sea, till he came again to the gardens of the fair maidens.
Then he asked them, "By what road shall I go homeward again?"
And they wept and cried, "Go home no more, but stay and play with us, the lonely maidens."
But Perseus refused and leapt down the mountain, and went on like a sea-gull, away and out to sea.

HOW PERSEUS MET ANDROMEDA

So Perseus flitted onward to the north-east, over many a league of sea, till he came to the rolling sandhills of the desert.
Over the sands he went, he never knew how far nor how long, hoping all day to see the blue sparkling Mediterranean, that he might fly across it to his home.
But now came down a mighty wind, and swept him back southward toward the desert. All day long he strove against it, but even the sandals could not prevail. And when morning came there was nothing to be seen, save the same old hateful waste of sand.
At last the gale fell, and he tried to go northward again, but again down came the sandstorms and swept him back into the desert; and then all was calm and cloudless as before.
Then he cried to Athene, "Shall I never see my mother more, and the blue ripple of the sea and the sunny hills of Hellas?"
So he prayed, and after he had prayed there was a great silence.
And Perseus stood still awhile and waited, and said, "Surely I am not here but by the will of the gods, for Athené will not lie. Were not these sandals to lead me in the right road?"
Then suddenly his ears were opened and he heard the sound of running water. And Perseus laughed for joy, and leapt down the cliff and drank of the cool water, and ate of the dates, and slept on the turf, and leapt up and went forward again, but not toward the north this time.
For he said, "Surely Athene hath sent me hither, and will not have me go homeward yet. What if there be another noble deed to be done before I see the sunny hills of Hellas?"
So Perseus flew along the shore above the sea, and at the dawn of a day he looked towards the cliffs. At the water's edge, under a black rock, he saw a white image stand.
"This," thought he, "must surely be the statue of some sea-god. I will go near and see."
And he came near, but when he came it was no statue he found, but a maiden of flesh and blood, for he could see her tresses streaming in the breeze. And as he came closer still, he could see how she shrank and shivered when the waves sprinkled her with cold salt spray.
Her arms were spread above her head and fastened to the rock with chains of brass, and her head drooped either with sleep or weariness or grief. But now and then she looked up and wailed, and called her mother.
Yet she did not see Perseus, for the cap of darkness was on his head.
In his heart pity and indignation, Perseus drew near and looked upon the maid. Her cheeks were darker than his, and her hair was blue-black like a hyacinth.
Perseus thought, "I have never seen so beautiful a maiden, no, not in all our isles. Surely she is a king's daughter. She is too fair, at least, to have done any wrong. I will speak to her," and, lifting the magic hat from his head, he flashed into her sight. She shrieked with terror, but Perseus cried, "Do not fear me, fair one. What cruel men have bound you? But first I will set you free."
And he tore at the fetters, but they were too strong for him, while the maiden cried, "Touch me not. I am a victim for the sea-gods. They will slay you if you dare to set me free."
"Let them try," said Perseus, and drawing his sword he cut through the brass as if it had been flax.
"Now," he said, "you belong to me, and not to these sea-gods, whosoever they may be."
But she only called the more on her mother. Then he clasped her in his arms, and cried, "Where are these sea-gods, cruel and unjust, who doom fair maids to death? Let them measure their strength against mine. But tell me, maiden, who you are, and what dark fate brought you here."
And she answered, weeping, "I am the daughter of a King, and my mother is the Queen with the beautiful tresses, and they call me Andromeda. I stand here to atone for my mother's sin, for she boasted of me once that I was fairer than the Queen of the Fishes. So she in her wrath sent the sea-floods and wasted all the land. And now I must be devoured by a sea-monster to atone for a sin which I never committed."
But Perseus laughed and said, "A sea-monster! I have fought with worse than he."
Andromeda looked up at him, and new hope was kindled in her heart, so proud and fair did he stand, with one hand round her, and in the other the glittering sword.

But still she sighed and said, "Why will you die, young as you are? Go you your way, I must go mine."
Perseus cried, "Not so: I slew the Gorgon by the help of the gods, and not without them do I come hither to slay this monster, with that same Gorgon's head. Yet hide your eyes when I leave you, lest the sight of it freeze you too to stone."
But the maiden answered nothing, for she could not believe his words.
Then suddenly looking up, she pointed to the sea and shrieked, "There he comes with the sunrise as they said. I must die now. Oh go!" And she tried to thrust him away.
And Perseus said, "I go, yet promise me one thing ere I go,—that if I slay this beast you will be my wife and come back with me to my kingdom, for I am a King's son. Promise me, and seal it with a kiss."
Then she lifted up her face and kissed him, and Perseus laughed for joy and flew upward, while Andromeda crouched trembling on the rock.
On came the great sea-monster, lazily breasting the ripple and stopping at times by creek or headland. His great sides were fringed with clustering shells and seaweeds, and the water gurgled in and out of his wide jaws as he rolled along. At last he saw Andromeda and shot forward to take his prey.
Then down from the height of the air fell Perseus like a shooting star, down to the crests of the waves, while Andromeda hid her face as he shouted, and then there was silence for a while.
When at last she looked up trembling, Andromeda saw Perseus springing towards her, and instead of the monster, a long black rock, with the sea rippling quietly round it.
Who then so proud as Perseus, as he leapt back to the rock and lifted his fair Andromeda in his arms and flew with her to the cliff-top, as a falcon carries a dove! Who so proud as Perseus, and who so joyful as the people of the land!
And the King and the Queen came, and all the people came with songs and dances to receive Andromeda back again, as one alive from the dead.
Then the King said to Perseus, "Hero of the Hellens, stay here with me and be my son-in-law, and I will give you the half of my kingdom."
"I will be your son-in-law," said Perseus, "but of your kingdom will I have none, for I long after the pleasant land of Greece, and my mother who waits for me at home."
Then said the King, "You must not take my daughter away at once, for she is to us as one alive from the dead. Stay with us here a year, and after that you shall return with honor."
And Perseus consented, but before he went to the palace he bade the people bring stones and wood and build an altar to Athené, and there he offered bullocks and rams. Then they made a great wedding feast, which lasted seven whole days.
But on the eighth night Perseus dreamed a dream. He saw standing beside him Athené as he had seen her seven long years before, and she stood and called him by name, and said, "Perseus, you have played the man, and see, you have your reward. Now give me the sword and the sandals, and the hat of darkness, that I may give them back to those to whom they belong. But the Gorgon's head you shall keep a while, for you will need it in your land of Hellas."
And Perseus rose to give her the sword, and the cap, and the sandals, but he woke and his dream vanished away. Yet it was not altogether a dream, for the goat-skin with the head was in its place, but the sword and the cap and the sandals were gone, and Perseus never saw them more.

HOW PERSEUS CAME HOME AGAIN

When a year was ended, Perseus rowed away in a noble galley, and in it he put Andromeda and all her dowry of jewels and rich shawls and spices from the East, and great was the weeping when they rowed away.
And when Perseus reached the land, of Hellas he left his galley on the beach, and went up as of old. He embraced his mother and Dictys, and they wept over each other, for it was seven years and more since they had parted.
Then Perseus went out and up to the hall of Polydectes, and underneath the goat-skin he bore the Gorgon's head.
When he came to the hall, Polydectes sat at the table, and all his nobles on either side, feasting on fish and goats' flesh, and drinking blood-red wine.
Perseus stood upon the threshold and called to the King by name. But none of the guests knew the stranger, for he was changed by his long journey. He had gone out a boy, and he was come home a hero.
But Polydectes the Wicked, knew him, and scornfully he called, "Ah, foundling! have you found it more easy to promise than to fulfil?"
"Those whom the gods help fulfil their promises," said Perseus, as he drew back the goat-skin and held aloft the Gorgon's head, saying, "Behold!"
Pale grew Polydectes and his guests as they looked upon that dreadful face. They tried to rise from their seats, but from their seats they never rose, but stiffened, each man where he sat, into a ring of cold gray stones.
Then Perseus turned and left them, and went down to his galley in the bay. He gave the kingdom to good Dictys, and sailed away with his mother and his bride. And Perseus rowed westward till he came to his old home, and there he found that his grandfather had fled.
The heart of Perseus yearned after his grandfather, and he said, "Surely he will love me now that I am come home with honor. I will go and find him and bring him back, and we will reign together in peace."
So Perseus sailed away, and at last he came to the land where his grandfather dwelt, and all the people were in the fields, and there was feasting and all kinds of games.
Then Perseus did not tell his name, but went up to the games unknown, for he said, "If I carry away the prize in the games, my grandfather's heart will be softened towards me."
And when the games began, Perseus was the best of all at running and leaping, and wrestling and throwing. And he won four crowns and took them.
Then he said to himself, "There is a fifth crown to be won. I will win that also, and lay them all upon the knees of my grandfather."
So he took the stones and hurled them five fathoms beyond all the rest. And the people shouted, "There has never been such a hurler in this land!"
Again Perseus put out all his strength and hurled. But a gust of wind came from the sea and carried the quoit aside, far beyond all the rest. And it fell on the foot of his grandfather, and he swooned away with the pain.
Perseus shrieked and ran up to him, but when they lifted the old man up, he was dead. Then Perseus rent his clothes and cast dust on his head, and wept a long while for his grandfather.
At last he rose and called to all people aloud and said, "The gods are true: what they have ordained must be; I am Perseus the grandson of this dead man." Then he told them how a prophet had said that he should kill his grandfather.
So they made great mourning for the old King, and burnt him on a right rich pile.
And Perseus went to the temple and was purified from the guilt of his death, because he had done it unknowingly.
Then he went home and reigned well with Andromeda, and they had four sons and three daughters.
And when they died, the ancients say that Athené took them up to the sky. All night long Perseus and Andromeda shine as a beacon for wandering sailors, but all day long they feast with the gods, on the still blue peaks in the home of the Immortals.

ODYSSEUS


HOW ODYSSEUS LEFT TROYLAND AND SAILED FOR HIS KINGDOM PAST THE LAND OF THE LOTUS EATERS

In the days of long ago there reigned over Ithaca, a rugged little island in the sea to the west of Greece, a King whose name was Odysseus.
Odysseus feared no man. Stronger and braver than other men was he, wiser, and more full of clever devices. Far and wide he was known as Odysseus of the many counsels. Wise, also, was his Queen, Penelope, and she was as fair as she was wise, and as good as she was fair.
While their only child, a boy named Telemachus, was still a baby, there was a very great war in Troyland, a country far across the sea.
http://www.kidsgen.com/stories/legen...s/odysseus.jpgThe brother of the overlord of all Greece beseiged Troy, and the kings and princes of his land came to help him. Many came from afar, but none from a more distant kingdom than Odysseus. Wife and child and old father he left behind him and sailed away with his black-prowed ships to fight in Troyland.
For ten years the siege of Troy went on, and of the heroes who fought there, none was braver than Odysseus. Clad as a beggar he went into the city and found out much to help the Greek armies. With his long sword he fought his way out again, and left many of the men of Troy lying dead behind him. And many other brave feats did Odysseus do.
After long years of fighting, Troy at last was taken. With much rich plunder the besiegers sailed homewards, and Odysseus set sail for his rocky island, with its great mountain, and its forests of trembling leaves.
Of gladness and of longing his heart was full. With a great love he loved his fair wife and little son and old father, and his little kingdom by the sea was very dear to him.
"I can see nought beside sweeter than a man's own country," he said. Very soon he hoped to see his dear land again, but many a long and weary day was to pass ere Odysseus came home.
Odysseus was a warrior, and always he would choose to fight rather than to be at peace.
As he sailed on his homeward way, winds drove his ships near the shore. He and his company landed, sacked the nearest city, and slew the people. Much rich plunder they took, but ere they could return to their ships, a host of people came from inland. In the early morning, thick as leaves and flowers in the spring they came, and fell upon Odysseus and his men.
All day they fought, but as the sun went down the people of the land won the fight. Back to their ships went Odysseus and his men. Out of each ship were six men slain. While they were yet sad at heart and weary from the fight, a terrible tempest arose.
Land and sea were blotted out, the ships were driven headlong, and their sails were torn to shreds by the might of the storm. For two days and two nights the ships were at the mercy of the tempests. At dawn on the third day, the storm passed away, and Odysseus and his men set up their masts and hoisted their white sails, and drove homeward before the wind.
So he would have come safely to his own country, but a strong current and a fierce north wind swept the ships from their course. For nine days were they driven far from their homeland, across the deep sea.
On the tenth day they reached the Land of the Lotus Eaters. The dwellers in that land fed on the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus flower. Those who ate the lotus ceased to remember that there was a past or a future. All duties they forgot, and all sadness. All day long they would sit and dream and dream idle, happy dreams that never ended.
Here Odysseus and his men landed and drew water. Three of his warriors Odysseus sent into the country to see what manner of men dwelt there. To them the Lotus Eaters gave their honey-sweet food, and no sooner had each man eaten than he had no wish ever to return to the ships. He longed for ever to stay in that pleasant land, eating the lotus fruit, and dreaming the happy hours away.
Back to the ships Odysseus dragged the unwilling men, weeping that they must leave so much joy behind. Beneath the benches of his ship he tightly bound them, and swiftly he made his ships sail from the shore, lest yet others of his company might eat of the lotus and forget their homes and their kindred.
Soon they had all embarked, and, with heavy hearts, the men of Ithaca smote the gray sea-water with their long oars, and sped away from the land of forgetfulness and of sweet day-dreams.

HOW ODYSSEUS CAME TO THE LAND OF THE CYCLÔPES, AND HIS ADVENTURES THERE

On and on across the waves sailed the dark-prowed ships of Odysseus, until again they came to land.
It was the Land of the Cyclôpes, a savage and lawless people, who never planted, nor plowed, nor sowed, and whose fields yet gave them rich harvests of wheat and of barley, and vines with heavy clusters of grapes. In deep caves, high up on the hills, these people dwelt, and each man ruled his own wife and children, but himself knew no ruler.
Outside the harbor of the Land of the Cyclôpes lay a thickly wooded island. No hunters went there, for the Cyclôpes owned neither ships nor boats, so that many goats roamed unharmed through the woods and cropped the fresh green grass.
It was a green and pleasant land. Rich meadows stretched down to the sea, the vines grew strong and fruitful, and there was a fair harbor where ships might be run right on to the beach. At the head of the harbor was a well of clear water flowing out of a cave, and with poplars growing around it. Thither Odysseus directed his ships. It was dark night, with no moon to guide, and mist lay deep on either side, yet they passed the breakers and rolling surf without knowing it, and anchored safely on the beach.
All night they slept, and when rosy dawn came they explored the island and slew with their bows and long spears many of the wild goats of the woods.
All the livelong day Odysseus and his men sat and feasted. As they ate and drank, they looked across the water at the Land of the Cyclôpes, where the smoke of wood fires curled up to the sky, and from whence they could hear the sound of men's voices and the bleating of sheep and goats. When darkness fell, they lay down to sleep on the sea-beach, and when morning dawned Odysseus called his men together and said to them: "Stay here, all the rest of you, my dear companions, but I will go with my own ship and my ship's company and see what kind of men are those who dwell in this land across the harbor."
So saying, he climbed into his ship, and his men rowed him across to the Land of the Cyclôpes. When they were near the shore they saw a great cave by the sea. It was roofed in with green laurel boughs and seemed to be meant for a fold to shelter sheep and goats. Round about it a high outer wall was firmly built with stones, and with tall and leafy pines and oak-trees.
In this cave, all alone with his flocks and herds, dwelt a huge and hideous one-eyed giant. Polyphemus was his name, and his father was Poseidon, god of the sea.
Taking twelve of his best men with him, Odysseus left the others to guard the ship and sallied forth to the giant's cave. With him he carried a goat-skin full of precious wine, dark red, and sweet and strong, and a large sack of corn.
Soon they came to the cave, but Polyphemus was not there. He had taken off his flocks to graze in the green meadows, leaving behind him in the cave folds full of lambs and kids. The walls of the cave were lined with cheeses, and there were great pans full of whey, and giant bowls full of milk.
"Let us first of all take the cheeses," said the men of Odysseus to their King, "and carry them to the ships. Then let us return and drive all the kids and lambs from their folds down to the shore, and sail with them in our swift ships homeward over the sea."
But Odysseus would not listen to what they said. He was too great hearted to steal into the cave like a thief and take away the giant's goods without first seeing whether Polyphemus might not treat him as a friend, receiving from him the corn and wine he had brought, and giving him gifts in return.
So they kindled a fire, and dined on some of the cheeses, and sat waiting for the giant to return.
Towards evening he came, driving his flocks before him, and carrying on his back a huge load of firewood, which he cast down on the floor with such a thunderous noise that Odysseus and his men fled in fear and hid themselves in the darkest corners of the cave. When he had driven his sheep inside, Polyphemus lifted from the ground a rock so huge that two-and-twenty four-wheeled wagons could not have borne it, and with it blocked the doorway. Then, sitting down, he milked the ewes and bleating goats, and placed the lambs and kids each beside its own mother.
Half of the milk he curdled and placed in wicker baskets to make into cheeses, and the other half he left in great pails to drink when he should have supper. When all this was done, he kindled a fire, and when the flames had lit up the dark-walled cave he spied Odysseus and his men.
"Strangers, who are ye?" he asked, in his great, rumbling voice. "Whence sail ye over the watery ways? Are ye merchants? or are ye sea-robbers who rove over the sea, risking your own lives and bringing evil to other men?"
The sound of the giant's voice, and his hideous face filled the hearts of the men with terror, but Odysseus made answer: "From Troy we come, seeking our home, but driven hither by winds and waves. Men of Agamemnon, the renowned and most mightily victorious Greek general, are we, yet to thee we come and humbly beg for friendship."
At this the giant, who had nothing but cruelty in his heart, mocked at Odysseus.
"Thou art a fool," said he, "and I shall not spare either thee or thy company. But tell me where thou didst leave thy good ship? Was it near here, or at the far end of the island?"
But Odysseus of the many counsels knew that the giant asked the question only to bring evil on the men who stayed by the ship, and so he answered: "My ship was broken in pieces by the storm and cast up on the rocks on the shore, but I, with these my men, escaped from death."
Not one word said Polyphemus in reply, but sprang up, clutched hold of two of the men, and dashed their brains out on the stone floor. Then he cut them up, and made ready his supper, eating the two men, bones and all, as if he had been a starving lion, and taking great draughts of the milk from the giant pails. When his meal was done, he stretched himself on the ground beside his sheep and goats, and slept.
In helpless horror Odysseus and his men had watched the dreadful sight, but when the monster slept they began to make plans for their escape. At first Odysseus thought it might be best to take his sharp sword and stab Polyphemus in the breast. But then he knew that even were he thus to slay the giant, he and his men must die. For strength was not left them to roll away the rock from the cave's mouth, and so they must perish like rats in a trap.
All night they thought what they should do, but could think of nought that would avail, and so they could only moan in their bitterness of heart and wait for the dawn. When dawn's rosy fingers touched the sky, Polyphemus awoke. He kindled a fire, and milked his flocks, and gave each ewe her lamb. When this work was done he snatched yet other two men, dashed their brains out, and made of them his morning meal. After the meal, he lifted the stone from the door, drove the flocks out, and set the stone back again. Then, with a loud shout, he turned his sheep and goats towards the hills and left Odysseus and his remaining eight men imprisoned in the cave, plotting and planning how to get away, and how to avenge the death of their comrades.
At last Odysseus thought of a plan. By the sheepfold there lay a huge club of green olive wood that Polyphemus had cut and was keeping until it should be dry enough to use as a staff. So huge was it that Odysseus and his men likened it to the mast of a great merchant vessel. From this club Odysseus cut a large piece and gave it to his men to fine down and make even. While they did this, Odysseus himself sharpened it to a point and hardened the point in the fire. When it was ready, they hid it amongst the rubbish on the floor of the cave. Then Odysseus made his men draw lots who should help him to lift this bar and drive it into the eye of the giant as he slept, and the lot fell upon the four men that Odysseus would himself have chosen.
In the evening Polyphemus came down from the hills with his flocks and drove them all inside the cave. Then he lifted the great doorstone and blocked the doorway, milked the ewes and goats, and gave each lamb and kid to its mother. This done, he seized other two of the men, dashed out their brains, and made ready his supper.
From the shadows of the cave Odysseus now stepped forward, bearing in his hands an ivy bowl, full of the dark red wine.
"Drink wine after thy feast of men's flesh," said Odysseus, "and see what manner of drink this was that our ship held."
Polyphemus grasped the bowl, gulped down the strong wine, and smacked his great lips over its sweetness.
"Give me more," he cried, "and tell me thy name straightway, that I may give thee a gift. Mighty clusters of grapes do the vines of our land bear for us, but this is a rill of very nectar and ambrosia."
Again Odysseus gave him the bowl full of wine, and yet again, until the strong wine went to the giant's head and made him stupid.
Then said Odysseus: "Thou didst ask me my name, and didst say that thou wouldst give me a gift. Noman is my name, and Noman they call me, my father and mother and all my fellows."
Then answered the giant out of his pitiless heart: "I will eat thy fellows first, Noman, and thee the last of all. That shall be thy gift."
Soon the wine made him so sleepy that he sank backwards with his great face upturned and fell fast asleep.
As soon as the giant slept, Odysseus thrust into the fire the stake he had prepared, and made it red hot, all the while speaking cheerfully and comfortingly to his men. When it was so hot that the wood, green though it was, began to blaze, they drew it out and thrust it into the giant's eye. Round and round they whirled the fiery pike, as a man bores a hole in a plank, until the blood gushed out, and the eye frizzled and hissed, and the flames singed and burned the eyelids, and the eye was burned out. With a great and terrible cry the giant sprang to his feet, and Odysseus and the others fled from before him. From his eye he dragged the blazing pike, all dripping with his blood, and dashed it to the ground. Then, maddened with pain, he called with a great and terrible cry on the other Cyclôpes, who dwelt in their caves on the hill-tops round which the wind swept. The giants, hearing his horrid yells, rushed to help him.
"What ails thee, Polyphemus?" they asked. "Why dost thou cry aloud in the night and awake us from our sleep? Surely no one stealeth thy flocks? None slayeth thee by force or by craft."
From the other side of the great stone moaned Polyphemus: "Noman is slaying me by craft."
Then the Cyclôpes said: "If no man is hurting thee, then indeed it must be a sickness that makes thee cry so loud, and this thou must bear, for we cannot help."
With that they strode away from the cave and left the blind giant groaning and raging with pain. Groping with his hands, he found the great stone that blocked the door, lifted it away, and sat himself down in the mouth of the cave, with his arms stretched out, hoping to catch Odysseus and his men if they should try to escape. Sitting there, he fell asleep, and, as soon as he slept, Odysseus planned and plotted how best to win freedom.
The rams of the giant's flocks were great strong beasts, with fleeces thick and woolly, and as dark as the violet. With twisted slips of willow Odysseus lashed every three of them together, and under the middle ram of each three he bound one of his men. For himself he kept the best ram of the flock, young and strong, and with a fleece wonderfully thick and shaggy. Underneath this ram Odysseus curled himself, and clung, face upwards, firmly grasping the wool with his hands. In this wise did he and his men wait patiently for the dawn.
When rosy dawn came, the ewes in the pens bleated to be milked and the rams hastened out to the hills and green meadows. As each sheep passed him, Polyphemus felt along its back, but never guessed that the six remaining men of Odysseus were bound beneath the thick-fleeced rams. Last of all came the young ram to which Odysseus clung, moving slowly, for his fleece was heavy, and Odysseus whom he bore was heavier still. On the ram's back Polyphemus laid his great hands. "Dear ram," said he, "once wert thou the very first to lead the flocks from the cave, the first to nibble the tender buds of the pasture, the first to find out the running streams, and the first to come home when evening fell. But to-day thou art the very last to go. Surely thou art sorrowful because the wicked Noman hath destroyed my eye. I would thou couldst speak and tell me where Noman is hidden. Then should I seize him and gladly dash out his brains on the floor of the cave."
Very, very still lay Odysseus while the giant spoke, but the ram slowly walked on past the savage giant, towards the meadows near the sea. Soon it was far enough from the cave for Odysseus to let go his hold and to stand up. Quickly he loosened the bonds of the others, and swiftly then they drove the rams down to the shore where their ship lay. Often they looked round, expecting to see Polyphemus following them, but they safely reached the ship and got a glad welcome from their friends, who rejoiced over them, but would have wept over the men that the cannibal giant had slain.
"There is no time to weep," said Odysseus, and he made his men hasten on board the ship, driving the sheep before them.
Soon they were all on board, and the gray sea-water was rushing off their oars, as they sailed away from the land of the Cyclôpes.
But before they were out of sight of land, the bold Odysseus lifted up his voice and shouted across the water:
"Hear me, Polyphemus, thou cruel monster! Thine evil deeds were very sure to find thee out. Thou hast been punished because thou hadst no shame to eat the strangers who came to thee as thy guests!"
The voice of Odysseus rang across the waves, and reached Polyphemus as he sat in pain at the mouth of his cave.
In a fury the giant sprang up, broke off the peak of a great hill and cast it into the sea, where it fell just in front of the ship of Odysseus.
So huge a splash did the vast rock give, that the sea heaved up and the backwash of the water drove the ship right to the shore.
Odysseus snatched up a long pole and pushed the ship off once more. Silently he motioned to the men to row hard, and save themselves and their ship from the angry giant. When they were once more out at sea, Odysseus wished again to mock Polyphemus.
In vain his men begged him not to provoke a monster so mighty that he could crush their heads and the timbers of their ship with one cast of a stone. Once more Odysseus shouted across the water:
"Polyphemus, if any one shall ask thee who blinded thee, tell them it was Odysseus of Ithaca."
Then moaned the giant:
"Once, long ago, a soothsayer told me that Odysseus should make me blind. But ever I looked for the coming of a great and gallant hero, and now there hath come a poor feeble, little dwarf, who made me weak with wine before he dared to touch me."
Then he begged Odysseus to come back, and said he would treat him kindly, and told him that he knew that his own father, the god of the sea, would give him his sight again.
"Never more wilt thou have thy sight," mocked Odysseus; "thy father will never heal thee."
Then Polyphemus, stretching out his hands, and looking up with his sightless eye to the starry sky, called aloud to Poseidon, god of the sea, to punish Odysseus.
"If he ever reaches his own country," he cried, "let him come late and in an evil case, with all his own company lost, and in the ship of strangers, and let him find sorrows in his own house."
No answer came from Poseidon, but the god of the sea heard his son's prayer.
With all his mighty force Polyphemus then cast at the ship a rock far greater than the first. It all but struck the end of the rudder, but the huge waves that surged up from it bore on the ship, and carried it to the further shore.
There they found the men with the other ships waiting in sorrow and dread, for they feared that the giants had killed Odysseus and his company. Gladly they drove the rams of Polyphemus on to the land, and there feasted together until the sun went down.
All night they slept on the sea beach, and at rosy dawn Odysseus called to his men to get into their ships and loose the hawsers. Soon they had pushed off, and were thrusting their oars into the gray sea-water.
Their hearts were sore, because they had lost six gallant men of their company, yet they were glad as men saved from death.

HOW ODYSSEUS MET WITH CIRCE, THE SIRENS, AND CALYPSO

Across the seas sailed Odysseus and his men till they came to an island where lived Æolus the keeper of the winds. When Odysseus again set sail, Æolus gave him a great leather bag in which he had placed all the winds except the wind of the west. His men thought the bag to be full of gold and silver, so, while Odysseus slept they loosened the silver thong, and, with a mighty gust all the winds rushed out driving the ship far away from their homeland.
Ere long they reached another island, where dwelt a great enchantress, Circe of the golden tresses, whose palace Eurylochus discovered. Within they heard Circe singing, so they called to her and she came forth and bade them enter. Heedlessly they followed her, all but Eurylochus. Then Circe smote them with her magic wand and they were turned into swine.
When Odysseus heard what had befallen his men he was very angry and would have slain her with his sword. But Circe cried: "Sheathe thy sword, I pray thee, Odysseus, and let us be at peace." Then said Odysseus: "How can I be at peace with thee, Circe? How can I trust thee?" Then Circe promised to do Odysseus no harm, and to let him return in safety to his home.
Then she opened the doors of the sty and waved her wand. And the swine became men again even handsomer and stronger than before.
For a whole year Odysseus and his men stayed in the palace, feasting and resting. When they at last set sail again the sorceress told Odysseus of many dangers he would meet on his homeward voyage, and warned him how to escape from them.
In an island in the blue sea through which the ship of Odysseus would sail toward home, lived some beautiful mermaids called Sirens. Even more beautiful than the Sirens' faces were their lovely voices by which they lured men to go on shore and there slew them. In the flowery meadows were the bones of the foolish sailors who had seen only the lovely faces and long, golden hair of the Sirens, and had lost their hearts to them.
Against these mermaids Circe had warned Odysseus, and he repeated her warnings to his men.
Following her advice he filled the ears of the men with wax and bade them bind him hand and foot to the mast.
Past the island drove the ship, and the Sirens seeing it began their sweet song. "Come hither, come hither, brave Odysseus," they sang. Then Odysseus tried to make his men unbind him, but Eurylochus and another bound him yet more tightly to the mast.
When the island was left behind, the men took the wax from their ears and unbound their captain. After passing the Wandering Rocks with their terrible sights and sounds the ship came to a place of great peril. Beyond them were yet two huge rocks between which the sea swept.
One of these ran up to the sky, and in this cliff was a dark cave in which lived Scylla a horrible monster, who, as the ship passed seized six of the men with her six dreadful heads.
In the cliff opposite lived another terrible creature called Charybdis who stirred the sea to a fierce whirlpool.
By a strong wind the ship was driven into this whirlpool, but Odysseus escaped on a broken piece of wreckage to the shores of an island.
On this island lived Calypso of the braided tresses, a goddess feared by all men. But, to Odysseus she was very kind and he soon became as strong as ever.
"Stay with me, and thou shalt never grow old and never die," said Calypso.
A great homesickness had seized Odysseus, but no escape came for eight years. Then Athene begged the gods to help him. They called on Hermes, who commanded Calypso to let him go. She wanted him to stay with her but promised to send him away. She told him to make a raft which she would furnish with food and clothing for his need.
He set out and in eighteen days saw the land of the Phæacians appear. But when safety seemed near, Poseidon, the sea-god, returned from his wanderings and would have destroyed him had it not been that a fair sea-nymph gave him her veil to wind around his body. This he did and finally reached the shore.

HOW ODYSSEUS MET WITH NAUSICAA

In the land of the Phæacians there dwelt no more beautiful, nor any sweeter maiden, than the King's own daughter. Nausicaa was her name, and she was so kind and gentle that every one loved her.
To the land of the Phæacians the north wind had driven Odysseus, and while he lay asleep in his bed of leaves under the olive-trees, the goddess Athene went to the room in the palace where Nausicaa slept, and spoke to her in her dreams.
"Some day thou wilt marry, Nausicaa," she said, "and it is time for thee to wash all the fair raiment that is one day to be thine. To-morrow thou must ask the King, thy father, for mules and for a wagon, and drive from the city to a place where all the rich clothing may be washed and dried."
When morning came Nausicaa remembered her dream, and went to tell her father.
Her mother was sitting spinning yarn of sea-purple stain, and her father was just going to a council meeting.
"Father, dear," said the Princess, "couldst thou lend me a high wagon with strong wheels, that I may take all my fair linen to the river to wash. All yours, too, I shall take, so that thou shalt go to the council in linen that is snowy clean, and I know that my five brothers will also be glad if I wash their fine clothing for them."
This she said, for she felt too shy to tell her father what Athene had said about her getting married.
But the King knew well why she asked. "I do not grudge thee mules, nor anything else, my child," he said. "Go, bid the servants prepare a wagon."
The servants quickly got ready the finest wagon that the King had, and harnessed the best of the mules. And Nausicaa's mother filled a basket with all the dainties that she knew her daughter liked best, so that Nausicaa and her maidens might feast together. The fine clothes were piled into the wagon, the basket of food was placed carefully beside them, and Nausicaa climbed in, took the whip and shining reins, and touched the mules. Then with clatter of hoofs they started.
When they were come to the beautiful, clear river, amongst whose reeds Odysseus had knelt the day before, they unharnessed the mules and drove them along the banks of the river to graze where the clover grew rich and fragrant. Then they washed the clothes, working hard and well, and spread them out to dry on the clean pebbles down by the seashore.
Then they bathed, and when they had bathed they took their midday meal by the bank of the rippling river.
When they had finished, the sun had not yet dried the clothes, so Nausicaa and her maidens began to play ball. As they played they sang a song that the girls of that land would always sing as they threw the ball to one another. All the maidens were fair, but Nausicaa of the white arms was the fairest of all.
From hand to hand they threw the ball, growing always the merrier, until, when it was nearly time for them to gather the clothes together and go home, Nausicaa threw it very hard to one of the others. The girl missed the catch. The ball flew into the river, and, as it was swept away to the sea, the Princess and all her maidens screamed aloud.
Their cries awoke Odysseus, as he lay asleep in his bed of leaves.
"I must be near the houses of men," he said; "those are the cries of girls at play."
With that he crept out from the shelter of the olive-trees. He had no clothes, for he had thrown them all into the sea before he began his terrible swim for life. But he broke off some leafy branches and held them round him, and walked down to where Nausicaa and her maidens were.
Like a wild man of the woods he looked, and when they saw him coming the girls shrieked and ran away. Some of them hid behind the rocks on the shore, and some ran out to the shoals of yellow sand that jutted into the sea.
But although his face was marred with the sea-foam that had crusted on it, and he looked a terrible, fierce, great creature, Nausicaa was too brave to run away.
Shaking she stood there, and watched him as he came forward, and stood still a little way off. Then Odysseus spoke to her, gently and kindly, that he might take away her fear.
He told her of his shipwreck, and begged her to show him the way to the town, and give him some old garment, or any old wrap in which she had brought the linen, so that he might have something besides leaves with which to cover himself.
"I have never seen any maiden half so beautiful as thou art," he said. "Have pity on me, and may the gods grant thee all thy heart's desire."
Then said Nausicaa: "Thou seemest no evil man, stranger, and I will gladly give thee clothing and show thee the way to town. This is the land of the Phæacians, and my father is the King."
To her maidens then she called:
"Why do ye run away at the sight of a man? Dost thou take him for an enemy? He is only a poor shipwrecked man. Come, give him food and drink, and fetch him clothing."
The maidens came back from their hiding-places, and fetched some of the garments of Nausicaa's brothers which they had brought to wash, and laid them beside Odysseus.
Odysseus gratefully took the clothes away, and went off to the river. There he plunged into the clear water, and washed the salt crust from off his face and limbs and body, and the crusted foam from his hair. Then he put on the beautiful garments that belonged to one of the Princes, and walked down to the shore where Nausicaa and her maidens were waiting.
So tall and handsome and strong did Odysseus look, with his hair curling like hyacinth flowers around his head, that Nausicaa said to her maidens: "This man, who seemed to us so dreadful so short a time ago, now looks like a god. I would that my husband, if ever I have one, should be as he."
Then she and her maidens brought him food and wine, and he ate hungrily, for it was many days since he had eaten.
When he had finished, they packed the linen into the wagon, and yoked the mules, and Nausicaa climbed into her place.
"So long as we are passing through the fields," she said to Odysseus, "follow behind with my maidens, and I will lead the way. But when we come near the town with its high walls and towers, and harbors full of ships, the rough sailors will stare and say, 'Hath Nausicaa gone to find herself a husband because she scorns the men of Phæacia who would wed her? Hath she picked up a shipwrecked stranger, or is this one of the gods who has come to make her his wife?' Therefore come not with us, I pray thee, for the sailors to jest at. There is a fair poplar grove near the city, with a meadow lying round it. Sit there until thou thinkest that we have had time to reach the palace. Then seek the palace—any child can show thee the way—and when thou art come to the outer court pass quickly into the room where my mother sits. Thou wilt find her weaving yarn of sea-purple stain by the light of the fire. She will be leaning her head back against a pillar, and her maidens will be standing round her. My father's throne is close to hers, but pass him by, and cast thyself at my mother's knees. If she feels kindly towards thee and is sorry for thee, then my father is sure to help thee to get safely back to thine own land."
Then Nausicaa smote her mules with the whip, and they trotted quickly off, and soon left behind them the silver river with its whispering reeds, and the beach with its yellow sand.
Odysseus and the maidens followed the wagon, and just as the sun was setting they reached the poplar grove in the meadow.
There Odysseus stayed until Nausicaa should have had time to reach the palace. When she got there, she stopped at the gateway, and her brothers came out and lifted down the linen, and unharnessed the mules. Nausicaa went up to her room, and her old nurse kindled a fire for her and got ready her supper.
When Odysseus thought it was time to follow, he went to the city. He marveled at the great walls and at the many gallant ships in the harbors. But when he reached the King's palace, he wondered still more. Its walls were of brass, so that from without, when the doors stood open, it looked as if the sun or moon were shining within. A frieze of blue ran round the walls. All the doors were made of gold, the doorposts were of silver, the thresholds of brass, and the hook of the door was of gold. In the halls were golden figures of animals, and of men who held in their hands lighted torches. Outside the courtyard was a great garden filled with blossoming pear-trees and pomegranates, and apple-trees with shining fruit, and figs, and olives. All the year round there was fruit in that garden. There were grapes in blossom, and grapes purple and ready to eat, and there were great masses of snowy pear-blossom, and pink apple-blossom, and golden ripe pears, and rosy apples.
At all of those wonders Odysseus stood and gazed, but it was not for long; for he hastened through the halls to where the Queen sat in the firelight, spinning her purple yarn. He fell at her knees, and silence came on all those in the room when they looked at him, so brave and so handsome did he seem.
"Through many and great troubles have I come hither, Queen," said he; "speed, I pray you, my parting right quickly, that I may come to mine own country. Too long have I suffered great sorrows far away from my own friends."
Then he sat down amongst the ashes by the fire, and for a little space no one spoke.
At last a wise old courtier said to the King: "Truly it is not right that this stranger should sit in the ashes by the fire. Bid him arise, and give him meat and drink."
At this the King took Odysseus by the hand and asked him to rise. He made one of his sons give up his silver inlaid chair, and bade his servants fetch a silver basin and a golden ewer that Odysseus might wash his hands. All kinds of dainties to eat and drink he also made them bring, and the lords and the courtiers who were there feasted along with Odysseus, until it was time for them to go to their own homes.
Before they went the King promised Odysseus a safe convoy back to his own land.
When he was left alone with the King and Queen, the latter said to him: "Tell us who thou art. I myself made the clothing that thou wearest. From whence didst thou get it?"
Then Odysseus told her of his imprisonment in the island of Calypso, of his escape, of the terrible storm that shattered his raft, and of how at length he reached the shore and met with Nausicaa.
"It was wrong of my daughter not to bring thee to the palace when she came with her maids," said the King.
But Odysseus told him why it was that Nausicaa had bade him stay behind.
"Be not vexed with this blameless maiden," he said. "Truly she is the sweetest and the fairest maiden I ever saw."
Then Odysseus went to the bed that the servants had prepared for him. They had spread fair purple blankets over it, and when it was ready they stood beside it with their torches blazing, golden and red.
"Up now, stranger, get thee to sleep," said they. "Thy bed is made."
Sleep was very sweet to Odysseus that night as he lay in the soft bed with warm blankets over him. He was no longer tossed and beaten by angry seas, no longer wet and cold and hungry. The roar of furious waves did not beat in his ears, for all was still in the great halls where the flickering firelight played on the frieze of blue, and turned the brass walls into gold.
Next day the King gave a great entertainment for Odysseus. There were boxing and wrestling and leaping and running, and in all of these the brothers of Nausicaa were better than all others who tried.
But when they came to throw the weight, and begged Odysseus to try, he cast a stone heavier than all others, far beyond where the Phæacians had thrown.
That night there was feasting in the royal halls, and the King's minstrels played and sang songs of the taking of Troy, and of the bravery of the great Odysseus. And Odysseus listened until his heart could bear no more, and tears trickled down his cheeks. Only the King saw him weep. He wondered much why Odysseus wept, and at last he asked him.
So Odysseus told the King his name, and the whole story of his adventures since he had sailed away from Troyland.
Then the King and Queen and their courtiers gave rich gifts to Odysseus. A beautiful silver-studded sword was the King's gift to him.
Nausicaa gave him nothing, but she stood and gazed at him in his purple robes and felt more sure than ever that he was the handsomest and the greatest hero she had ever seen.
"Farewell, stranger," she said to him when the hour came for her to go to bed, for she knew she would not see him on the morrow. "Farewell, stranger. Sometimes think of me when thou art in thine own land."
Then said Odysseus: "All the days of my life I shall remember thee, Nausicaa, for thou hast given me my life."
Next day a company of the Phæacians went down to a ship that lay by the seashore, and with them went Odysseus. They carried the treasures that had been given to him and put them on board, and spread a rug on the deck for him. There Odysseus lay down, and as soon as the splash of the oars in the water and the rush and gush of the water from the bow of the boat told him that the ship was sailing speedily to his dear land of Ithaca, he fell into a sound sleep. Onward went the ship, so swiftly that not even a hawk flying after its prey could have kept pace with her. When the bright morning stars arose, they were close to Ithaca. The sailors quickly ran their vessel ashore and gently carried the sleeping Odysseus, wrapped round in his rug of bright purple, to where a great olive-tree bent its gray leaves over the sand. They laid him under the tree, put his treasures beside him, and left him, still heavy with slumber. Then they climbed into their ship and sailed away.
While Odysseus slept the goddess Athene shed a thick mist round him. When he awoke, the sheltering heavens, the long paths, and the trees in bloom all looked strange to him when seen through the grayness of the mist.
"Woe is me!" he groaned. "The Phæacians promised to bring me to Ithaca, but they have brought me to a land of strangers, who will surely attack me and steal my treasures."
But while he was wondering what he should do, the goddess Athene came to him. She was tall and fair and noble to look upon, and she smiled upon Odysseus with her kind gray eyes.
Under the olive-tree she sat down beside him, and told him all that had happened in Ithaca while he was away, and all that he must do to win back his kingdom and his Queen.

THE ARGONAUTS


HOW THE CENTAUR TRAINED THE HEROES

Now I have a tale to tell of heroes who sailed away into a distant land, to win themselves renown for ever in the adventures of the Golden Fleece.
And what was the Golden Fleece?
It was the fleece of the wondrous ram who bore a boy called Phrixus and a girl called Helle across the sea; and the old Greeks said that it hung nailed to a beech-tree in the War-god's wood.
For when a famine came upon the land, their cruel stepmother wished to kill Phrixus and Helle, that her own children might reign.
She said Phrixus and Helle must be sacrificed on an altar, to turn away the anger of the gods, who sent the famine.
So the poor children were brought to the altar, and the priest stood ready with his knife, when out of the clouds came the Golden Ram, and took them on his back and vanished.
And the ram carried the two children far away, over land and sea, till at a narrow strait Helle fell off into the sea, and those narrow straits are called "Hellespont" after her, and they bear that name until this day.
Then the ram flew on with Phrixus to the northeast, across the sea which we call the Black Sea, and at last he stopped at Colchis, on the steep sea-coast.
And Phrixus married the King's daughter there, and offered the ram in sacrifice, and then it was that the ram's fleece was nailed to a beech in the wood of the War-god.
After a while Phrixus died, but his spirit had no rest, for he was buried far from his native land and the pleasant hills of Hellas.
So he came in dreams to the heroes of his country, and called sadly by their beds, "Come and set my spirit free, that I may go home to my fathers and to my kinsfolk."
And they asked, "How shall we set your spirit free?"
"You must sail over the sea to Colchis, and bring home the Golden Fleece. Then my spirit will come back with it, and I shall sleep with my fathers and have rest."
He came thus, and called to them often, but when they woke they looked at each other and said, "Who dare sail to Colchis or bring home the Golden Fleece?"
And in all the country none was brave enough to try, for the man and the time were not come.
Now Phrixus had a cousin called Æson, who was King in Iolcos by the sea. And a fierce and lawless stepbrother drove Æson out of Iolcos by the sea, and took the kingdom to himself and ruled over it.
When Æson was driven out, he went sadly away out of the town, leading his little son by the hand. And he said to himself, "I must hide the child in the mountains, or my stepbrother will surely kill him because he is the heir."
So he went up from the sea, across the valley, through the vineyards and the olive groves, and across the river, toward Pelion, the ancient mountain, whose brows are white with snow.
He went up and up into the mountain, over marsh, and crag, and down, till the boy was tired and footsore, and Æson had to bear him in his arms till he came to the mouth of a lonely cave, at the foot of a mighty cliff.
Above the cliff the snow-wreaths hung, dripping and cracking in the sun. But at its foot, around the cave's mouth, grew all fair flowers and herbs, as if in a garden. There they grew gaily in the sunshine and in the spray of the torrent from above, while from the cave came the sound of music, and a man's voice singing to the harp.
Then Æson put down the lad, and whispered, "Fear not, but go in, and whomsoever you shall find, lay your hands upon his knees and say, 'In the name of Zeus, the father of gods and men, I am your guest from this day forth.'"
So the lad went in without trembling, for he too was a hero's son, but when he was within, he stopped in wonder to listen to that magic song.
And there he saw the singer, lying upon bear-skins and fragrant boughs, Cheiron the ancient Centaur, the wisest of all beneath the sky.
Down to the waist he was a man, but below he was a noble horse. His white hair rolled down over his broad shoulders, and his white beard over his broad brown chest. His eyes were wise and mild, and his forehead like a mountain-wall. In his hands he held a harp of gold, and he struck it with a golden key. And as he struck, he sang till his eyes glittered and filled all the cave with light.
As he sang the boy listened wide-eyed, and forgot his errand in the song. At the last old Cheiron was silent, and called the lad with a soft voice.
And the lad ran trembling to him, and would have laid his hands upon his knees.
But Cheiron smiled, and drew the lad to him, and laid his hand upon his golden locks, and said, "Are you afraid of my horse's hoofs, fair boy, or will you be my pupil from this day?"
"I would gladly have horse's hoofs like you, if I could sing such songs as yours," said the lad.
And Cheiron laughed and said, "Sit here till sundown, when your playfellows will come home, and you shall learn like them to be a king, worthy to rule over gallant men."
Then he turned to Æson, who had followed his son into the cave, and said, "Go back in peace. This boy shall not cross the river again till he has become a glory to you and to your house."
And Æson wept over his son and went away, but the boy did not weep, so full was his fancy of that strange cave, and the Centaur and his song, and the playfellows whom he was to see.
Then Cheiron put the lyre into his hands, and taught him how to play it, till the sun sank low behind the cliff, and a shout was heard outside.
And then in came the sons of the heroes, and great Cheiron leapt up joyfully, and his hoofs made the cave resound as the lads shouted, "Come out, Father Cheiron, and see our game!"
One cried, "I have killed two deer," and another, "I took a wild cat among the crags," and another shouted, "I have dragged a wild goat by its horns," and another carried under each arm a bear-cub. And Cheiron praised them all, each as he deserved.
Then the lads brought in wood and split it, and lighted a blazing fire. Others skinned the deer and quartered them, and set them to roast before the flames.
While the venison was cooking, they bathed in the snow-torrent and washed away the dust.
And then all ate till they could eat no more, for they had tasted nothing since the dawn, and drank of the clear spring water, for wine is not fit for growing lads.
When the remnants of the meal were put away, they all lay down upon the skins and leaves about the fire, and each took the lyre in turn, and sang and played with all his heart.
After a while they all went out to a plot of grass at the cave's mouth, and there they boxed and ran and wrestled and laughed till the stones fell from the cliffs.
Then Cheiron took his lyre, and all the lads joined hands, and as he played they danced to his measure, in and out and round and round.
There they danced hand in hand, till the night fell over land and sea, while the black glen shone with the gleam of their golden hair.
And the lad danced with them, delighted, and then slept a wholesome sleep, upon fragrant leaves of bay and myrtle and flowers of thyme.
He rose at the dawn and bathed in the torrent, and became a schoolfellow to the heroes' sons, and forgot Iolcos by the sea, and his father and all his former life.
But he grew strong and brave and cunning, upon the pleasant downs of Pelion, in the keen, hungry mountain-air.
And he learned to wrestle, to box and to hunt, and to play upon the harp. Next he learned to ride, for old Cheiron used to mount him on his back. He learned too the virtue of all herbs, and how to cure all wounds, and Cheiron called him Jason the Healer, and that is his name until this day.

HOW JASON LOST HIS SANDAL

And ten years came and went, and Jason was grown to be a mighty man.
Now it happened one day that Jason stood on the mountain, and looked north and south and east and west. And Cheiron stood by him and watched him, for he knew that the time was come.
When Jason looked south, he saw a pleasant land, with white-walled towns and farms nestling along the shore of a land-locked bay, while the smoke rose blue among the trees, and he knew it for Iolcos by the sea.
Then he sighed and asked, "Is it true what the heroes tell me—that I am heir of that fair land?"
"And what good would it be to you, Jason, if you were heir of that fair land?"
"I would take it and keep it."
"A strong man has taken it and kept it long. Are you stronger than your uncle Pelias the Terrible?"
"I can try my strength with his," said Jason.
But Cheiron sighed and said, "You have many a danger to go through before you rule in Iolcos by the sea, many a danger and many a woe, and strange troubles in strange lands, such as man never saw before."
"The happier I," said Jason, "to see what man never saw before!"
Cheiron sighed and said, "Will you go to Iolcos by the sea? Then promise me two things before you go! Speak harshly to no soul whom you may meet, and stand by the word which you shall speak."
Jason promised. Then he leapt down the mountain, to take his fortune like a man.
He went down through the thickets and across the downs of thyme, till he came to the vineyard walls, and the olives in the glen. And among the olives roared the river, foaming with a summer flood.
And on the bank of the river sat a woman, all wrinkled, gray and old. Her head shook with old age, and her hands shook on her knees.
When she saw Jason, she spoke, whining, "Who will carry me across the flood?"
But Jason, heeding her not, went towards the waters. Yet he thought twice before he leapt, so loud roared the torrent all brown from the mountain rains.
The old woman whined again, "I am weak and old, fair youth. For Hera's sake, the Queen of the Immortals, carry me over the torrent."
Jason was going to answer her scornfully, when Cheiron's words, "Speak harshly to no soul whom you may meet," came to his mind.
So he said, "For Hera's sake, the Queen of the Immortals, I will carry you over the torrent, unless we both are drowned midway."
Then the old dame leapt upon his back as nimbly as a goat. Jason staggered in, wondering, and the first step was up to his knees.
The first step was up to his knees, and the second step was up to his waist. The stones rolled about his feet, and his feet slipped about the stones. So he went on, staggering and panting, while the old woman cried upon his back, "Fool, you have wet my mantle! Do you mock at poor old souls like me?"
Jason had half a mind to drop her and let her get through the torrent alone, but Cheiron's words were in his mind, and he said only, "Patience, mother, the best horse may stumble some day."
At last he staggered to the shore and set her down upon the bank. He lay himself panting awhile, and then leapt up to go upon his journey, but he first cast one look at the old woman, for he thought, "She should thank me once at least."
And as he looked, she grew fairer than all women and taller than all men on earth.
Her garments shone like the summer sea, and her jewels like the stars of heaven. And she looked down on him with great soft eyes, with great eyes, mild and awful, which filled all the glen with light. Jason fell upon his knees and hid his face between his hands.
And she spoke: "I am Hera, the Queen of Olympus. As thou hast done to me, so will I do to thee. Call on me in the hour of need, and try if the Immortals can forget!"
When Jason looked up, she rose from off the earth, like a pillar of tall white cloud, and floated away across the mountain peaks, towards Olympus, the holy hill.
Then a great fear fell on Jason, but after a while he grew light of heart. He blessed old Cheiron and said, "Surely the Centaur is a prophet and knew what would come to pass when he bade me speak harshly to no soul whom I might meet."
Then he went down towards Iolcos, and as he walked he found that he had lost one of his sandals in the flood.
And as he went through the streets the people came out to look at him, so tall and fair he was. But some of the elders whispered together, and at last one of them stopped Jason and called to him, "Fair lad, who are you and whence come you, and what is your errand in the town?"
"My name, good father, is Jason, and I come from Pelion up above. My errand is to Pelias your King. Tell me, then, where his palace is."
But the old man said, "I will tell you, lest you rush upon your ruin unawares. The oracle has said that a man wearing one sandal should take the kingdom from Pelias and keep it for himself. Therefore beware how you go up to his palace, for he is fiercest and most cunning of all kings." Jason laughed a great laugh in his pride. "Good news, good father, both for you and me. For that very end, to take his kingdom, I came into the town."
Then he strode on toward the palace of Pelias his uncle, while all the people wondered at the stranger. And he stood in the doorway and cried, "Come out, come out, Pelias the Valiant, and fight for your kingdom like a man."
Pelias came out, wondering. "Who are you, bold youth?" he cried.
"I am Jason, the son of Æson, the heir of all the land."
Then Pelias lifted up his hands and eyes and wept, or seemed to weep, and blessed the gods who had brought his nephew to him, never to leave him more. "For," said he, "I have but three daughters, and no son to be my heir. You shall marry whichsoever of my daughters you shall choose. But come, come in and feast."
So he drew Jason in and spoke to him so lovingly, and feasted him so well, that Jason's anger passed.
When supper was ended his three cousins came into the hall, and Jason thought he would like well to have one of them for his wife.
But soon he looked at Pelias, and when he saw that he still wept, he said, "Why do you look so sad, my uncle?"
Then Pelias sighed heavily again and again, like a man who had to tell some dreadful story, and was afraid to begin.
At last he said, "For seven long years and more have I never known a quiet night, and no more will he who comes after me, till the Golden Fleece be brought home."
Then he told Jason the story of Phrixus and of the Golden Fleece, and told him what was a lie, that Phrixus' spirit tormented him day and night. And his daughters came and told the same tale, and wept and said, "Oh, who will bring home the Golden Fleece, that the spirit of Phrixus may rest, and that we may rest also, for he never lets us sleep in peace?"
Jason sat awhile, sad and silent, for he had often heard of that Golden Fleece, but he looked on it as a thing hopeless and impossible for any mortal man to win.
When Pelias saw him silent he began to talk of other things. "One thing there is," said Pelias, "on which I need your advice, for, though you are young, I see in you a wisdom beyond your years. There is one neighbor of mine whom I dread more than all men on earth. I am stronger than he now and can command him, but I know that if he stay among us, he will work my ruin in the end. Can you give me a plan, Jason, by which I can rid myself of that man?"
After a while, Jason answered half-laughing, "Were I you, I would send him to fetch that same Golden Fleece, for if he once set forth after it, you would never be troubled with him more."
At that a little smile came across the lips of Pelias, and a flash of wicked joy into his eyes. Jason saw it and started, and he remembered the warning of the old man, and his own one sandal and the oracle, and he saw that he was taken in a trap.
But Pelias only answered gently, "My son, he shall be sent forthwith."
"You mean me!" cried Jason, starting up, "because I came here with one sandal," and he lifted his fist angrily, while Pelias stood up to him like a wolf at bay. Whether of the two was the stronger and the fiercer it would be hard to tell.
But after a moment Pelias spoke gently, "Why so rash, my son? I have not harmed you. You will go, and that gladly, for you have a hero's heart within you, and the love of glory."
Jason knew that he was entrapped, but he cried aloud, "You have well spoken, cunning uncle of mine, I love glory. I will go and fetch the Golden Fleece. Promise me but this in return, and keep your word as I keep mine. Treat my father lovingly while I am gone, for the sake of the all-seeing Zeus, and give me up the kingdom for my own on the day that I bring back the Golden Fleece."
Then Pelias looked at him and almost loved him, in the midst of all his hate, and he said, "I promise, and I will perform. It will be no shame to give up my kingdom to the man who wins that fleece."
So they both went and lay down to sleep. But Jason could not sleep for thinking how he was to win the Golden Fleece. Sometimes Phrixus seemed to call him in a thin voice, faint and low, as if it came from far across the sea. Sometimes he seemed to see the eyes of Hera, and to hear her words again, "Call on me in the hour of need, and see if the Immortals can forget."
On the morrow Jason went to Pelias and said, "Give me a lamb, that I may sacrifice to Hera." And as he stood by the altar Hera sent a thought into his mind. And he went back to Pelias and said, "If you are indeed in earnest, give me two heralds that they may go round to all the Princes, who were pupils of the Centaur with me. Then together we will fit out a ship, and take what shall befall."
At that Pelias praised his wisdom and hastened to send the heralds out, for he said in his heart, "Let all the Princes go with Jason, and, like him, never return, so shall I be lord of the land and the greatest king in Hellas."

HOW THEY BUILT THE SHIP ARGO

So the heralds went out and cried to all the heroes, "Who dare come to the adventures of the Golden Fleece?"
And Hera stirred the hearts of all the Princes, and they came from all their valleys to the yellow sand of Iolcos by the sea.
All the city came out to meet them, and the men were never tired with looking at their heights and their beauty and the glitter of their arms.
But the women sighed over them and whispered, "Alas, they are all going to their death!"
Then the heroes felled the mountain pines and shaped them with the axe, and Argus the famed shipbuilder taught them to build a galley, the first long ship which ever sailed the seas. They named her Argo, after Argus the shipbuilder, and worked at her all day long.
But Jason went away into a far-off land, till he found Orpheus the prince of minstrels, where he dwelt in his cave.
And he asked him, "Will you leave your mountains, Orpheus, my playfellow in old times, and sail with the heroes to bring home the Golden Fleece? And will you charm for us all men and all monsters with your magic harp and song?"
Then Orpheus sighed, "Have I not had enough of toil and of weary wandering far and wide, since I lived in Cheiron's cave, above Iolcos by the sea? And now must I go out again, to the ends of all the earth, far away into the misty darkness? But a friend's demand must be obeyed."
So Orpheus rose up sighing, and took his harp. He led Jason to the holy oak, and he bade him cut down a bough and sacrifice to Hera. And they took the bough and came to Iolcos, and nailed it to the prow of the ship.
And at last the ship was finished, and they tried to launch her down the beach; but she was too heavy for them to move her, and her keel sank deep into the sand.
Then all the heroes looked at each other blushing, but Jason spoke and said, "Let us ask the magic bough; perhaps it can help us in our need."
And a voice came from the bough, and Jason heard the words it said, and bade Orpheus play upon the harp, while the heroes waited round, holding the pine-trunk rollers to help the Argo toward the sea.
Then Orpheus took his harp and began his magic song. And the good ship Argo heard him and longed to be away and out at sea, till she stirred in every timber, and heaved from stem to stern, and leapt up from the sand upon the rollers, and plunged onward like a gallant horse till she rushed into the whispering sea.
And they stored her well with food and water, and settled themselves each man to his oar, keeping time to the harp of Orpheus.
Then away across the bay they rowed southward, while the people lined the cliffs. But the women wept while the men shouted at the starting of that gallant crew.

HOW THE ARGONAUTS WON THE GOLDEN FLEECE

The heroes rowed across the bay, and while they waited there for a southwest wind, they chose themselves a captain from their crew. And some called for the strongest and hugest to be their captain, but more called for Jason, because he was the wisest of them all.
So Jason was chosen captain, and each hero vowed to stand by him faithfully in the adventure of the Golden Fleece.
They sailed onward and northward to Pelion. And their hearts yearned for the dear old mountain, as they thought of the days gone by, of the sports of their boyhood, and their hunting, and their lessons in the cave beneath the cliff. Then at last they said, "Let us land here and climb the dear old hill once more. We are going on a fearful journey. Who knows if we shall see Pelion again? Let us go up to Cheiron our master, and ask his blessing ere we start."
So the helmsman steered them to the shore, under the crags of Pelion, and they went up through the dark pine-forests toward the Centaur's cave.
Then, as Cheiron saw them, he leapt up and welcomed them every one, and set a feast of venison before them. And after supper all the heroes clapped their hands and called on Orpheus to sing, but he refused, and said, "How can I, who am the younger, sing before our ancient host?"
So they called on Cheiron to sing. And he sang of heroes who fought with fists and teeth, and how they tore up the pine-trees in their fury, and hurled great crags of stone, while the mountains thundered with the battle, and the land was wasted far and wide.
And the heroes praised his song right heartily, for some of them had helped in that great fight.
Then Orpheus took the lyre and sang of the making of the wondrous world. And as he sang, his voice rose from the cave above the crags, and through the tree-tops. The trees bowed their heads when they heard it, and the forest beasts crept close to listen, and the birds forsook their nests and hovered near. And old Cheiron clapped his hands together and beat his hoofs upon the ground, for wonder at that magic song.
Now the heroes came down to the ship, and Cheiron came down with them, weeping, and kissed them one by one, and promised to them great renown.
And the heroes wept when they left him, till their great hearts could weep no more, for he was kind and just, and wiser than all beasts and men.
Then Cheiron went up to a cliff and prayed for them, that they might come home safe and well, while the heroes rowed away and watched him standing on his cliff above the sea, with his great hands raised toward heaven, and his white locks waving in the wind. They strained their eyes to watch him to the last, for they felt that they should look on him no more.
So they rowed on over the long swell of the sea eastward, and out into the open sea which we now call the Black Sea.
All feared that dreadful sea, and its rocks and fogs and bitter storms, and the heroes trembled for all their courage, as they came into that wild Black Sea, and saw it stretching out before them, without a shore, as far as eye could see.
Then Orpheus spoke and warned them that they must come now to the wandering blue rocks.
Soon they saw them, and their blue peaks shone like spires and castles of gray glass, while an ice-cold wind blew from them and chilled all the heroes' hearts.
As they neared them, they could see the rocks heaving, as they rolled upon the long sea-waves, crashing and grinding together, till the roar went up to heaven.
The heroes' hearts sank within them, and they lay upon their oars in fear, but Orpheus called to the helmsman, "Between the blue rocks we must pass, so look for an opening, and be brave, for Hera is with us."
The cunning helmsman stood silent, clenching his teeth, till he saw a heron come flying mast-high toward the rocks, and hover awhile before them, as if looking for a passage through. Then he cried, "Hera has sent us a pilot; let us follow the bird."
The heron flapped to and fro a moment till he saw a hidden gap, and into it he rushed like an arrow, while the heroes watched what would befall.
And the blue rocks dashed together as the bird fled swiftly through, but they struck but one feather from his tail, and then rebounded at the shock.

Then the helmsman cheered the heroes, and they shouted, while the oars bent beneath their strokes as they rushed between those toppling ice-crags. But ere the rocks could meet again they had passed them, and were safe out in the open sea.
After that they sailed on wearily along the coast, past many a mighty river's mouth, and past many a barbarous tribe. And at day dawn they looked eastward, till, shining above the tree-tops, they saw the golden roofs of King Aietes, the Child of the Sun.
Then out spoke the helmsman, "We are come to our goal at last, for there are the roofs of Aietes, and the woods where all poisons grow. But who can tell us where among them is hid the Golden Fleece?"
But Jason cheered the heroes, for his heart was high and bold, and he said, "I will go alone to Aietes, and win him with soft words. Better so than to go altogether and to come to blows at once." But the heroes would not stay behind so they rowed boldly up the stream.
And a dream came to Aietes and filled his heart with fear. Then he leapt up and bade his servants bring his chariot, that he might go down to the river-side, and appease the nymphs and the heroes whose spirits haunt the bank.
So he went down in his golden chariot, and his daughters by his side, Medeia, the fair witch-maiden, and Chalciope, who had been Phrixus' wife, and behind him a crowd of servants and soldiers, for he was a rich and mighty prince.
And as he drove down by the reedy river, he saw the Argo sliding up beneath the bank, and many a hero in her, like Immortals for beauty and strength. But Jason was the noblest of all, for Hera, who loved him, gave him beauty and height and terrible manhood.
When they came near together and looked into each other's eyes, the heroes were awed before Aietes as he shone in his chariot like his father, the glorious Sun. For his robes were of rich gold tissue, and the rays of his diadem flashed fire. And in his hand he bore a jeweled scepter, which glittered like the stars.
Sternly Aietes looked at the heroes, and sternly he spoke and loud, "Who are you, and what want you here that you come to our shore? Know this is my kingdom and these are my people who serve me. Never yet grew they tired in battle, and well they know how to face a foe."
And the heroes sat silent awhile before the face of that ancient King. But Hera, the awful goddess, put courage into Jason's heart, and he rose and shouted loudly in answer to the King.
"We are no lawless men. We come, not to plunder or carry away slaves from your land, but we have come on a quest to bring home the Golden Fleece. And these too, my bold comrades, they are no nameless men, for some are the sons of Immortals, and some of heroes far renowned. We too never tire in battle, and know well how to give blows and to take. Yet we wish to be guests at your table; it will be better so for both."
Then Aietes' rage rushed up like a whirlwind, and his eyes flashed fire as he heard; but he crushed his anger down in his heart and spoke mildly.
"If you will fight, then many a man must die. But if you will be ruled by me you will find it better far to choose the best man among you, and let him fulfil the labors which I demand. Then I will give him the Golden Fleece for a prize and a glory to you all."
So he said, and then turned his horses and drove back in silence to the town.
The heroes sat dumb with sorrow, for there was no facing the thousands of King Aietes' men and the fearful chance of war.
But Chalciope, the widow of Phrixus, went weeping to the town, for she remembered her husband and all the pleasures of her youth while she watched the fair face of his kinsmen and their long locks of golden hair.
And she whispered to Medeia, her sister, "Why should all these brave men die? Why does not my father give up the fleece, that my husband's spirit may have rest?"
Medeia's heart pitied the heroes, and Jason most of all, and she answered, "Our father is stern and terrible, and who can win the Golden Fleece?"
But Chalciope said, "These men are not like our men; there is nothing which they cannot dare nor do."
Then Medeia thought of Jason and his brave countenance, and said, "If there was one among them who knew no fear, I could show him how to win the fleece."
So in the dusk of the evening they went down to the river-side, Chalciope and Medeia the witch-maiden, and with them a lad. And the lad crept forward, among the beds of reeds, till he came to where Jason kept ward on shore, leaning upon his lance, full of thought.
And the lad said, "Chalciope waits for you, to talk about the Golden Fleece."
Then Jason went boldly with the boy and found the two Princesses. When Chalciope saw him, she wept and took his hands and cried, "O cousin of my beloved Phrixus, go home before you die!"
"It would be base to go home now, fair Princess, and to have sailed all these seas in vain."
Then both the Princesses besought him, but Jason said, "It is too late to return!"
"But you know not," said Medeia, "what he must do who would win the fleece. He must tame the two brazen-footed bulls, which breathe devouring flame, and with them he must plow ere nightfall four acres in a field. He must sow the acres with serpents' teeth, of which each tooth springs up into an armed man. Then he must fight with all these warriors. And little will it profit him to conquer them, for the fleece is guarded by a serpent more huge than any mountain pine. Over his body you must step if you would reach the Golden Fleece."
Then Jason laughed bitterly: "Unjustly is that fleece kept here, and by an unjust and lawless King, and unjustly shall I die in my youth, for I will attempt it ere another sun be set."
Medeia trembled and said, "No mortal man can reach that fleece unless I guide him through."
But Jason cried, "No wall so high but it may be climbed at last, and no wood so thick but it may be crawled through. No serpent so wary but he may be charmed, and I may yet win the Golden Fleece, if a wise maiden help bold men."
And he looked at Medeia with his glittering eye, till she blushed and trembled and said, "Who can face the fire of the bulls' breath and fight ten thousand armed men?"
"He whom you help," said Jason, flattering her, "for your fame is spread over all the earth."
And Medeia said slowly, "Why should you die? I have an ointment here. I made it from the magic ice-flower. Anoint yourself with that, and you shall have in you the strength of seven, and anoint your shield with it, and neither fire nor sword shall harm you. Anoint your helmet with it, before you sow the serpents' teeth, and when the sons of earth spring up, cast your helmet among them, and every man of them shall perish."
Then Jason fell on his knees before her, and thanked her and kissed her hands, and she gave him the vase of ointment, and fled trembling through the reeds.
And Jason told his comrades what had happened, and showed them the box of ointment.
So at sunrise Jason went and bathed and anointed himself from head to foot, and his shield and his helmet and his weapons. And when the sun had risen, Jason sent two of his heroes to tell Aietes that he was ready for the fight.
Up among the marble walls they went, and beneath the roofs of gold, and stood in the hall of Aietes, while he grew pale with rage.
"Fulfil your promise to us, Child of the blazing Sun," the heroes cried to King Aietes. "Give us the serpents' teeth, and let loose the fiery bulls, for we have found a champion among us, who can win the Golden Fleece!"
Aietes grew more pale with rage, for he had fancied that they had fled away by night, but he could not break his promise, so he gave them the serpents' teeth. Then he called his chariot and his horses, and sent heralds through all the town, and all the people went out with him to the dreadful War-god's field.
There Aietes sat upon his throne, with his warriors on each hand, thousands and tens of thousands clothed from head to foot in steel chain mail. And the people and women crowded to every window and bank and wall, while the heroes stood together, a mere handful in the midst of that great host.
Chalciope was there, and Medeia, wrapped closely in her veil; but Aietes did not know that she was muttering cunning spells between her lips.
Then Jason cried, "Fulfil your promise, and let your fiery bulls come forth!"
Aietes bade open the gates, and the magic bulls leapt out. Their brazen hoofs rang upon the ground as they rushed with lowered heads upon Jason, but he never flinched a step. The flame of their breath swept round him, but it singed not a hair of his head. And the bulls stopped short and trembled when Medeia began her spell.
Then Jason sprang upon the nearest, and seized him by the horns, and up and down they wrestled, till the bull fell groveling on his knees. For the heart of the bull died within him, beneath the steadfast eye of that dark witch-maiden and the magic whisper of her lips.
So both the bulls were tamed and yoked, and Jason bound them to the plow and goaded them onward with his lance, till he had plowed the sacred field. And all the heroes shouted, but Aietes bit his lips with rage, for half of Jason's work was done.
Then Jason took the serpents' teeth and sowed them, and waited what would befall.
And Medeia looked at him and at his helmet, lest he should forget the lesson she had taught him.
Now every furrow heaved and bubbled, and out of every clod arose a man. Out of the earth they arose by thousands, each clad from head to foot in steel, and drew their swords and rushed on Jason where he stood in the midst alone.
The heroes grew pale with fear for him, but Aietes laughed an angry laugh.
Then Jason snatched off his helmet and hurled it into the thickest of the throng. And hate and fear and suspicion came upon them, and one cried to his fellows, "Thou didst strike me," and another, "Thou art Jason, thou shalt die," and each turned his hand against the rest, and they fought and were never weary, till they all lay dead upon the ground.
And the magic furrows opened, and the kind earth took them home again, and Jason's work was done.
Then the heroes rose and shouted, and Jason cried to the King, "Lead me to the Golden Fleece this moment before the sun goes down."
But Aietes thought, "Who is this, who is proof against all magic? He may kill the serpent yet!" So he delayed, and sat taking counsel with his princes. Afterwards he bade a herald cry, "To-morrow we will meet these heroes and speak about the Golden Fleece!"
Then he turned and looked at Medeia. "This is your doing, false witch-maid," he said; "you have helped these yellow-haired strangers."
Medeia shrank and trembled, and her face grew pale with fear, and Aietes knew that she was guilty, and he whispered, "If they win the fleece, you die."
Now the heroes went marching toward their ship, growling, like lions cheated of their prey. "Let us go together to the grove and take the fleece by force," they said. But Jason held them back, while he praised them for brave heroes, for he hoped for Medeia's help.
And after a time she came trembling, and wept a long while before she spoke. At last she said, "I must die, for my father has found out that I have helped you."
But all the heroes cried, "If you die we die with you, for without you we cannot win the fleece, and home we will never go without it."
"You need not die," said Jason to the witch-maiden. "Flee home with us across the sea. Show us but how to win the fleece, and come with us and you shall be my queen, and rule over the rich princes in Iolcos by the sea."
And all the heroes pressed round and vowed to her that she should be their queen.
Medeia wept and hid her face in her hands. "Must I leave my home and my people?" she sobbed. "But the lot is cast: I will show you how to win the Golden Fleece. Bring up your ship to the woodside, and moor her there against the bank. And let Jason come up at midnight and one brave comrade with him, and meet me beneath the wall."
Then all the heroes cried together, "I will go—and I—and I!"
But Medeia calmed them and said, "Orpheus shall go with Jason, and take his magic harp."
And Orpheus laughed for joy and clapped his hands, because the choice had fallen on him.
So at midnight they went up the bank and found Medeia, and she brought them to a thicket beside the War-god's gate.
And the base of the gate fell down and the brazen doors flew wide, and Medeia and the heroes ran forward, and hurried through the poison wood, guided by the gleam of the Golden Fleece, until they saw it hanging on one vast tree in the midst.
Jason would have sprung to seize it, but Medeia held him back and pointed to the tree-foot, where a mighty serpent lay, coiled in and out among the roots.
When the serpent saw them coming, he lifted up his head and watched them with his small bright eyes, and flashed his forked tongue.
But Medeia called gently to him, and he stretched out his long spotted neck, and licked her hand. Then she made a sign to Orpheus, and he began his magic song.
And as he sung, the forest grew calm, and the leaves on every tree hung still, and the serpent's head sank down and his coils grew limp, and his glittering eyes closed lazily, till he breathed as gently as a child.
Jason leapt forward warily and stept across that mighty snake, and tore the fleece from off the tree-trunk. Then the witch-maiden with Jason and Orpheus turned and rushed down to the bank where the Argo lay.
There was silence for a moment, when Jason held the Golden Fleece on high. Then he cried, "Go now, good Argo, swift and steady, if ever you would see Pelion more."
And she went, as the heroes drove her, grim and silent all, with muffled oars. On and on, beneath the dewy darkness, they fled swiftly down the swirling stream, on and on till they heard the merry music of the surge.
Into the surge they rushed, and the Argo leapt the breakers like a horse, till the heroes stopped, all panting, each man upon his oar, as she slid into the broad sea.
Then Orpheus took his harp and sang a song of praise, till the heroes' hearts rose high again, and they rowed on, stoutly and steadfastly, away into the darkness of the West.

HOW THE ARGONAUTS REACHED HOME

So the heroes fled away in haste, but Aietes manned his fleet and followed them.
Then Medeia, the dark witch-maiden, laid a cruel plot, for she killed her young brother who had come with her, and cast him into the sea, and said, "Ere my father can take up his body and bury it, he must wait long and be left far behind."
And all the heroes shuddered, and looked one at the other in shame. When Aietes came to the place he stopped a long while and bewailed his son, and took him up and went home.
So the heroes escaped for a time, but Zeus saw that evil deed, and out of the heavens he sent a storm and swept the Argo far from her course. And at last she struck on a shoal, and the waves rolled over her and through her, and the heroes lost all hope of life.
Then out spoke the magic bough, which stood upon the Argo's prow, "For your guilt, you must sail a weary way to where Circe, Medeia's sister, dwells among the islands of the West; she shall cleanse you of your guilt."
Whither they went I cannot tell, nor how they came to Circe's isle, but at last they reached the fairy island of the West.
And Jason bid them land, and as they went ashore they met Circe coming down toward the ship, and they trembled when they saw her, for her hair and face and robes shone flame.
Then Circe cried to Medeia, "Ah, wretched girl, have you forgotten your sins that you come hither, where the flowers bloom all the year round? Where is your aged father, and the brother whom you killed? I will send you food and wine, but your ship must not stay here, for she is black with your wickedness."
http://www.kidsgen.com/stories/legen...es/orpheus.jpgAnd the heroes prayed, but in vain, and cried, "Cleanse us from our guilt!" but she sent them away and said, "Go eastward, that you may be cleansed, and after that you may go home."
Slowly and wearily they sailed on, till one summer's eve they came to a flowery island, and as they neared it they heard sweet songs.
Medeia started when she heard, and cried, "Beware, O heroes, for here are the rocks of the Sirens. You must pass close by them, but those who listen to that song are lost."
Then Orpheus spoke, he, the king of all minstrels, "Let them match their song against mine;" so he caught up his lyre and began his magic song.
Now they could see the Sirens. Three fair maidens, sitting on the beach, beneath a rock red in the setting sun.
Slowly they sung and sleepily, and as the heroes listened the oars fell from their hands, and their heads dropped, and they closed their heavy eyes, and all their toil seemed foolishness, and they thought of their renown no more.
Then Medeia clapped her hands together and cried, "Sing louder, Orpheus, sing louder."
And Orpheus sang till his voice drowned the song of the Sirens, and the heroes caught their oars again and cried, "We will be men, and we will dare and suffer to the last."
And as Orpheus sang, they dashed their oars into the sea and kept time to his music as they fled fast away, and the Sirens' voices died behind them, in the hissing of the foam.
But when the Sirens saw that they were conquered, they shrieked for envy and rage and leapt into the sea, and were changed into rocks.
Then, as the Argonauts rowed on, they came to a fearful whirlpool, and they could neither go back nor forward, for the waves caught them and spun them round and round. While they struggled in the whirlpool, they saw near them on the other side of the strait a rock stand in the water—a rock smooth and slippery, and half way up a misty cave.
When Orpheus saw the rock he groaned. "Little will it help us," he cried, "to escape the jaws of the whirlpool. For in that cave lives a sea-hag, and from her cave she fishes for all things that pass by, and never ship's crew boasted that they came safe past her rock."
Then out of the depths came Thetis, the silver-footed bride of one of the heroes. She came with all her nymphs around her, and they played like snow-white dolphins, diving in from wave to wave before the ship, and in her wake and beside her, as dolphins play. And they caught the ship and guided her, and passed her on from hand to hand, and tossed her through the billows, as maidens do the ball.
And when the sea-hag stooped to seize the ship, they struck her, and she shrank back into her cave affrighted, and the Argo leapt safe past her, while a fair breeze rose behind.
Then Thetis and her nymphs sank down to their coral caves beneath the sea, and their gardens of green and purple, where flowers bloom all the year round, while the heroes went on rejoicing, yet dreading what might come next.
They rowed away for many a weary day till their water was spent and their food eaten, but at last they saw a long steep island.
"We will land here," they cried, "and fill our water casks upon the shore."
But when they came nearer to the island they saw a wondrous sight. For on the cliffs stood a giant, taller than any mountain pine.
When he saw the Argo and her crew he came toward them, more swiftly than the swiftest horse, and he shouted to them, "You are pirates, you are robbers! If you land you shall die the death."
Then the heroes lay on their oars in fear, but Medeia spoke: "I know this giant. If strangers land he leaps into his furnace, which flames there among the hills, and when he is red-hot he rushes on them, and burns them in his brazen hands. But he has but one vein in all his body filled with liquid fire, and this vein is closed with a nail. I will find out where the nail is placed, and when I have got it into my hands you shall water your ship in peace."
So they took the witch-maiden and left her alone on the shore. And she stood there all alone in her beauty till the giant strode back red-hot from head to heel.
When he saw the maiden he stopped. And she looked boldly up into his face and sang a magic song, and she held up a flash of crystal and said, "I am Medeia, the witch-maiden. My sister Circe gave me this and said, 'Go, reward Talus, the faithful giant, for his fame is gone out into all lands.' So come and I will pour this into your veins, that you may live for ever young."
And he listened to her false words, that simple Talus, and came near.
But Medeia said, "Dip yourself in the sea first and cool yourself, lest you burn my tender hands. Then show me the nail in your vein, and in that will I pour the liquid from the crystal flask."
Then that simple Talus dipped himself in the sea, and came and knelt before Medeia and showed the secret nail.
And she drew the nail out gently, but she poured nothing in, and instead the liquid fire streamed forth.
Talus tried to leap up, crying, "You have betrayed me, false witch-maiden."
But she lifted up her hands before him and sang, till he sank beneath her spell.
And as he sank, the earth groaned beneath his weight and the liquid fire ran from his heel, like a stream of lava, to the sea.
Then Medeia laughed and called to the heroes, "Come and water your ship in peace."
So they came and found the giant lying dead, and they fell down and kissed Medeia's feet, and watered their ship, and took sheep and oxen, and so left that inhospitable shore.
At the next island they went ashore and offered sacrifices, and Orpheus purged them from their guilt.
And at last, after many weary days and nights, all worn and tired, the heroes saw once more Pelion and Iolcos by the sea.
They ran the ship ashore, but they had no strength left to haul her up the beach, and they crawled out on the pebbles and wept, till they could weep no more.

For the houses and the trees were all altered, and all the faces they saw were strange, so that their joy was swallowed up in sorrow.
The people crowded round and asked them, "Who are you, that you sit weeping here?"
"We are the sons of your princes, who sailed in search of the Golden Fleece, and we have brought it home. Give us news of our fathers and mothers, if any of them be left alive on earth."
Then there was shouting and laughing and weeping, and all the kings came to the shore, and they led away the heroes to their homes, and bewailed the valiant dead.
And Jason went up with Medeia to the palace of his uncle Pelias. And when he came in, Pelias and Æson, Jason's father, sat by the fire, two old men, whose heads shook together as they tried to warm themselves before the fire.
Jason fell down at his father's knee and wept and said, "I am your own son Jason, and I have brought home the Golden Fleece and a Princess of the Sun's race for my bride."
Then his father clung to him like a child, and wept, and would not let him go, and cried, "Promise never to leave me till I die."
And Jason turned to his uncle Pelias, "Now give me up the kingdom and fulfil your promise, as I have fulfilled mine." And his uncle gave him his kingdom.
So Jason stayed at Iolcos by the sea.

THESEUS


HOW THESEUS LIFTED THE STONE

Once upon a time there was a Princess called Aithra. She had one fair son named Theseus, the bravest lad in all the land. And Aithra never smiled but when she looked at him, for her husband had forgotten her, and lived far away.
Aithra used to go up to the temple of the gods, and sit there all day, looking out across the bay, over the purple peaks of the mountains to the Attic shore beyond.
When Theseus was full fifteen years old, she took him up with her to the temple, and into the thickets which grew in the temple yard. She led him to a tall plane-tree, and there she sighed and said, "Theseus, my son, go into that thicket and you will find at the plane-tree foot a great flat stone. Lift it, and bring me what lies underneath."
Then Theseus pushed his way in through the thick bushes, and searching among their roots he found a great flat stone, all overgrown with ivy and moss.
He tried to lift it, but he could not. And he tried till the sweat ran down his brow from the heat, and the tears from his eyes for shame, but all was of no avail. And at last he came back to his mother and said, "I have found the stone, but I cannot lift it, nor do I think that any man could, in all the land."
Then she sighed and said, "The day may come when you will be a stronger man than lives in all the land." And she took him by the hand and went into the temple and prayed, and came down again with Theseus to her home.
And when a full year was past, she led Theseus up again to the temple and bade him lift the stone, but he could not.
Then she sighed again and said the same words again, and went down and came again next year. But Theseus could not lift the stone then, nor the year after.
He longed to ask his mother the meaning of that stone, and what might be underneath it, but her face was so sad that he had not the heart to ask.
So he said to himself, "The day shall surely come when I will lift that stone."
And in order to grow strong he spent all his days in wrestling and boxing, and hunting the boar and the bull and the deer among rocks, till upon all the mountains there was no hunter so swift as Theseus, and all the people said, "Surely the gods are with the lad!"
When his eighteenth year was past, Aithra led him up again to the temple and said, "Theseus, lift the stone this day, or never know who you are."
And Theseus went into the thicket and stood over the stone and tugged at it, and it moved.
Then he said, "If I break my heart in my body it shall come up." And he tugged at it once more, and lifted it, and rolled it over with a shout.
When he looked beneath it, on the ground lay a sword of bronze, with a hilt of glittering gold, and beside it a pair of golden sandals.
Theseus caught them up and burst through the bushes and leapt to his mother, holding them high above his head.
But when she saw them she wept long in silence, hiding her fair face in her shawl. And Theseus stood by her and wept also, he knew not why.
When she was tired of weeping Aithra lifted up her head and laid her finger on her lips, and said, "Hide them in your cloak, Theseus, my son, and come with me where we can look down upon the sea."
They went outside the sacred wall and looked down over the bright blue sea, and Aithra said, "Do you see the land at our feet?"
And Theseus said, "Yes, this is where I was born and bred."
And she asked, "Do you see the land beyond?"
And the lad answered, "Yes, that is Attica, where the Athenian people live!"
"That is a fair land and large, Theseus, my son, and it looks towards the sunny south. There the hills are sweet with thyme, and the meadows with violet, and the nightingales sing all day in the thickets. There are twelve towns well peopled, the homes of an ancient race. What would you do, Theseus, if you were king of such a land?"
Theseus stood astonished, as he looked across the broad bright sea and saw the fair Attic shore. His heart grew great within him, and he said, "If I were king of such a land, I would rule it wisely and well, in wisdom and in might."
And Aithra smiled and said, "Take, then, the sword and the sandals and go to thy father Ægeus, King of Athens, and say to him, 'The stone is lifted!' Then show him the sword and the sandals, and take what the gods shall send."
But Theseus wept, "Shall I leave you, O my mother?"
She answered, "Weep not for me." Then she kissed Theseus and wept over him, and went into the temple, and Theseus saw her no more.

HOW THESEUS SLEW THE CLUB-BEARER AND THE PINE-BENDER

So Theseus stood there alone, with his mind full of many hopes. And first he thought of going down to the harbor and hiring a swift ship and sailing across the bay to Athens. But even that seemed too slow for him, and he longed for wings to fly across the sea and find his father.
After a while his heart began to fail him, and he sighed and said within himself, "What if my father have other sons around him, whom he loves? What if he will not receive me? He has forgotten me ever since I was born. Why should he welcome me now?"
Then he thought a long while sadly, but at last he cried aloud, "Yes, I will make him love me. I will win honor, and do such deeds that Ægeus shall be proud of me though he had fifty other sons."
"I will go by land and into the mountains, and so round to Athens. Perhaps there I may hear of brave adventures, and do something which shall win my father's love."
So Theseus went by land and away into the mountains, with his father's sword upon his thigh. And he went up into the gloomy glens, up and up, till the lowland grew blue beneath his feet, and the clouds drove damp about his head. But he went up and up, ever toiling on through bog and brake, till he came to a pile of stones.
On the stones a man was sitting wrapped in a cloak of bear-skin. When he saw Theseus, he rose, and laughed till the glens rattled.
"Who art thou, fair fly, who hast walked into the spider's web?"
Theseus walked on steadily, and made no answer, but he thought, "Is this some robber? Has an adventure come to me already?"
But the strange man laughed louder than ever and said, "Bold fly, know thou not these glens are the web from which no fly ever finds his way out again, and I am the spider who eats the flies? Come hither and let me feast upon you. It is of no use to run away, for these glens in the mountain make so cunning a web, that through it no man can find his way home."
Still Theseus came steadily on, and he asked, "And what is your name, bold spider, and where are your spider's fangs?"
The strange man laughed again. "Men call me the Club-bearer, and here is my spider's fang," and he lifted off from the stones at his side a mighty club of bronze. "With this I pound all proud flies," he said. "So give me up that gay sword of yours, and your mantle, and your golden sandals, lest I pound you and by ill-luck you die!"
But Theseus wrapped his mantle round his left arm quickly, in hard folds, and drew his sword, and rushed upon the Club-bearer, and the Club-bearer rushed on him.
Thrice he struck at Theseus and made him bend under the blows like a sapling. And thrice Theseus sprang upright after the blow, and he stabbed at the Club-bearer with his sword, but the loose folds of the bear-skin saved him.
Then Theseus grew angry and closed with him, and caught him by the throat, and they fell and rolled over together. But when Theseus rose up from the ground the Club-bearer lay still at his feet.
So Theseus took the strange man's club and his bear-skin and went upon his journey down the glens, till he came to a broad green valley, and he saw flocks and herds sleeping beneath the trees. And by the side of a pleasant fountain were nymphs and shepherds dancing, but no one piped to them as they danced.
When they saw Theseus they shrieked, and the shepherds ran off and drove away their flocks, while the nymphs dived into the fountain and vanished.
Theseus wondered and laughed, "What strange fancies have folks here, who run away from strangers, and have no music when they dance." But he was tired and dusty and thirsty, so he thought no more of them, but drank and bathed in the clear pool, and then lay down in the shade under a plane-tree, while the water sang him to sleep as it trickled down from stone to stone.
And when he woke he heard a whispering, and saw the nymphs peeping at him across the fountain from the dark mouth of a cave, where they sat on green cushions of moss. One said, "Surely he is not the Club-bearer," and another, "He looks no robber, but a fair and gentle youth."
Then Theseus smiled and called them. "Fair nymphs, I am not the Club-bearer. He sleeps among the kites and crows, but I have brought away his bear-skin and his club."
They leapt across the pool, and came to him, and called the shepherds back. And Theseus told them how he had slain the Club-bearer, and the shepherds kissed his feet and sang, "Now we shall feed our flocks in peace, and not be afraid to have music when we dance. For the cruel Club-bearer has met his match, and he will listen for our pipes no more."
Then the shepherds brought him kids' flesh and wine, and the nymphs brought him honey from the rocks.
And Theseus ate and drank with them, and they begged him to stay, but he would not.
"I have a great work to do;" he said, "I must go towards Athens."
And the shepherds said, "You must look warily about you, lest you meet the robber, called the Pine-bender. For he bends down two pine-trees and binds all travelers hand and foot between them, and when he lets the trees go their bodies are torn in sunder."
But Theseus went on swiftly, for his heart burned to meet that cruel robber. And in a pine-wood at last he met him, where the road ran between high rocks.
There the robber sat upon a stone by the wayside, with a young fir-tree for a club across his knees, and a cord laid ready by his side, and over his head, upon the fir-top, hung the bones of murdered men.
Then Theseus shouted to him, "Holla, thou valiant Pine-bender, hast thou two fir-trees left for me?"
The robber leapt to his feet and answered, pointing to the bones above his head, "My larder has grown empty lately, so I have two fir-trees ready for thee."
He rushed on Theseus, lifting his club, and Theseus rushed upon him, and they fought together till the greenwoods rang.
Then Theseus heaved up a mighty stroke and smote the Pine-bearer down upon his face, and knelt upon his back, and bound him with his own cord, and said, "As thou hast done to others, so shall it be done to thee." And he bent down two young fir-trees and bound the robber between them for all his struggling and his prayers, and as he let the trees go the robber perished, and Theseus went on, leaving him to the hawks and crows.
Clearing the land of monsters as he went, Theseus saw at last the plain of Athens before him.
And as he went up through Athens all the people ran out to see him, for his fame had gone before him, and every one knew of his mighty deeds, and they shouted, "Here comes the hero!"
But Theseus went on sadly and steadfastly, for his heart yearned after his father. He went up the holy stairs to the spot where the palace of Ægeus stood. He went straight into the hall and stood upon the threshold and looked round.
He saw his cousins sitting at the table, and loud they laughed and fast they passed the wine-cup round, but no Ægeus sat among them.
They saw Theseus and called to him, "Holla, tall stranger at the door, what is your will to-day?"
"I come to ask for hospitality."
"Then take it and welcome. You look like a hero and a bold warrior, and we like such to drink with us."
"I ask no hospitality of you; I ask it of Ægeus the King, the master of this house."

At that some growled, and some laughed and shouted, "Heyday! we are all masters here."
"Then I am master as much as the rest of you," said Theseus, and he strode past the table up the hall, and looked around for Ægeus, but he was nowhere to be seen.
The revelers looked at him and then at each other, and each whispered to the man next him, "This is a forward fellow; he ought to be thrust out at the door."
But each man's neighbor whispered in return, "His shoulders are broad; will you rise and put him out?" So they all sat still where they were.
Then Theseus called to the servants and said, "Go tell King Ægeus, your master, that Theseus is here and asks to be his guest awhile."
A servant ran and told Ægeus, where he sat in his chamber with Medeia, the dark witch-woman, watching her eye and hand.
And when Ægeus heard of Theseus he turned pale and again red, and rose from his seat trembling, while Medeia, the witch, watched him like a snake.
"What is Theseus to you?" she asked.
But he said hastily, "Do you not know who this Theseus is? The hero who has cleared the country from all monsters. I must go out and welcome him."
So Ægeus came into the hall, and when Theseus saw him his heart leapt into his mouth, and he longed to fall on his neck and welcome him. But he controlled himself and thought, "My father may not wish for me, after all. I will try him before I discover myself." And he bowed low before Ægeus and said, "I have delivered the King's realm from many monsters, therefore I am come to ask a reward of the King."
Old Ægeus looked on him and loved him, but he only sighed and said, "It is little that I can give you, noble lad, and nothing that is worthy of you."
"All I ask," said Theseus, "is to eat and drink at your table."
"That I can give you," said Ægeus, "if at least I am master in my own hall."
Then he bade them put a seat for Theseus, and set before him the best of the feast, and Theseus sat and ate so much that all the company wondered at him, but always he kept his club by his side.
But Medeia, the dark witch-maiden, was watching all the while, and she saw how the heart of Ægeus opened to Theseus, and she said to herself, "This youth will be master here, unless I hinder it."
Then she went back modestly to her chamber, while Theseus ate and drank, and all the servants whispered, "This, then, is the man who killed the monsters! How noble are his looks, and how huge his size! Ah, would he were our master's son!"
Presently Medeia came forth, decked in all her jewels and her rich Eastern robes, and looking more beautiful than the day, so that all the guests could look at nothing else. And in her right hand she held a golden cup, and in her left a flask of gold. She came up to Theseus, and spoke in a sweet and winning voice, "Hail to the hero! drink of my charmed cup, which gives rest after every toil and heals all wounds;" and as she spoke she poured sparkling wine into the cup.
Theseus looked up into her fair face and into her deep dark eyes, and as he looked he shrank and shuddered, for they were dry eyes like the eyes of a snake.
Then he rose and said, "The wine is rich, and the wine-bearer fair. Let her pledge me first herself in the cup that the wine may be sweeter."
Medeia turned pale and stammered, "Forgive me, fair hero, but I am ill and dare drink no wine."
Theseus looked again into her eyes and cried, "Thou shalt pledge me in that cup or die!"
Then Medeia shrieked and dashed the cup to the ground and fled, for there was strong poison in that wine.
And Medeia called her dragon chariot, and sprang into it, and fled aloft, away over land and sea, and no man saw her more.
Ægeus cried, "What have you done?"
But Theseus said, "I have rid the land of one enchantment, now I will rid it of one more."
And he came close to Ægeus and drew from his cloak the sword and the sandals, and said the words which his mother bade him, "The stone is lifted."
Ægeus stepped back a pace and looked at the lad till his eyes grew dim, and then he cast himself on his neck and wept, and Theseus wept, till they had no strength left to weep more.
Then Ægeus turned to all the people and cried, "Behold my son!"
But the cousins were angry and drew their swords against Theseus. Twenty against one they fought, and yet Theseus beat them all, till at last he was left alone in the palace with his new-found father.
But before nightfall all the town came up, with dances and songs, because the King had found an heir to his royal house.
So Theseus stayed with his father all the winter through, and when spring drew near, he saw all the people of Athens grow sad and silent. And he asked the reason of the silence and the sadness, but no one would answer him a word.
Then he went to his father and asked him, but Ægeus turned away his face and wept.
But when spring had come, a herald stood in the market-place and cried, "O people and King of Athens, where is your yearly tribute?" Then a great lamentation arose throughout the city.
But Theseus stood up before the herald and cried, "I am a stranger here. Tell me, then, why you come?"
"To fetch the tribute which King Ægeus promised to King Minos. Blood was shed here unjustly, and King Minos came to avenge it, and would not leave Athens till the land had promised him tribute—seven youths and seven maidens every year, who go with me in a black-sailed ship."
Then Theseus groaned inwardly and said, "I will go myself with these youths and maidens, and kill King Minos upon his royal throne."
But Ægeus shrieked and cried, "You shall not go, my son, you shall not go to die horribly, as those youths and maidens die. For Minos thrusts them into a labyrinth, and no one can escape from its winding ways, before they meet the Minotaur, the monster who feeds upon the flesh of men. There he devours them horribly, and they never see this land again."
And Theseus said, "Therefore all the more will I go with them, and slay the accursed Minotaur."
Then Ægeus clung to his knees, but Theseus would not stay, and at last he let him go, weeping bitterly, and saying only this last word, "Promise me but this, if you return in peace, though that may hardly be. Take down the black sail of the ship, for I shall watch for it all day upon the cliffs, and hoist instead a white sail, that I may know afar off that you are safe."
And Theseus promised, and went out, and to the market-place, where the herald stood and drew lots for the youths and maidens who were to sail in that sad ship.
The people stood wailing and weeping as the lot fell on this one and on that, but Theseus strode into the midst and cried, "Here is one who needs no lot. I myself will be one of the seven."
And the herald asked in wonder, "Fair youth, do you know whither you are going?"
"I know," answered Theseus boldly; "let us go down to the black-sailed ship."
So they went down to the black-sailed ship, seven maidens and seven youths, and Theseus before them all. And the people followed them, lamenting. But Theseus whispered to his companions, "Have hope, for the monster is not immortal."
Then their hearts were comforted a little, but they wept as they went on board; and the cliffs rang with the voice of their weeping.

HOW THESEUS SLEW THE MINOTAUR

And the ship sailed slowly on, till at last it reached the land of Crete, and Theseus stood before King Minos, and they looked each other in the face.
Minos bade take the youths and the maidens to prison, and cast them to the Minotaur one by one.
Then Theseus cried, "A boon, O Minos! Let me be thrown first to the monster. For I came hither, for that very purpose, of my own will and not by lot."
"Who art thou, thou brave youth?" asked the King.
"I am the son of Ægeus, the King of Athens, and I am come here to end the yearly tribute."
And Minos pondered a while, looking steadfastly at him, and he thought, "The lad means to atone by his own death for his father's sin;" and he answered mildly, "Go back in peace, my son. It is a pity that one so brave should die."
But Theseus said, "I have sworn that I will not go back till I have seen the monster face to face."
At that Minos frowned and said, "Then thou shalt see him."
And they led Theseus away into the prison, with the other youths and maidens.
Now Ariadne, the daughter of Minos, saw Theseus as she came out of her white stone hall, and she loved him for his courage and his beauty, and she said, "It is shameful that such a youth should die." And by night she went down to the prison and told him all her heart, and said, "Flee down to your ship at once, for I have bribed the guards before the door. Flee, you and all your friends, and go back in peace, and take me with you. For I dare not stay after you are gone. My father will kill me miserably, if he knows what I have done."
And Theseus stood silent awhile, for he was astonished and confounded by her beauty.
But at last he said, "I cannot go home in peace till I have seen and slain this Minotaur, and put an end to the terrors of my land."
"And will you kill the Minotaur? How then will you do it?" asked Ariadne in wonder.
"I know not, nor do I care, but he must be strong if he be too strong for me," said Theseus.
Then she loved him all the more and said, "But when you have killed him, how will you find your way out of the labyrinth?"
"I know not, neither do I care, but it must be a strange road if I do not find it out before I have eaten up the monster's carcass."
Then Ariadne loved him yet more, and said, "Fair youth, you are too bold, but I can help you, weak as I am. I will give you a sword, and with that perhaps you may slay the monster, and a clue of thread, and by that perhaps you may find your way out again. Only promise me that if you escape you will take me home with you."
Then Theseus laughed and said, "Am I not safe enough now?" And he hid his sword, and rolled up the clue in his hand, and then he fell down before Ariadne and kissed her hands and her feet, while she wept over him a long while. Then the Princess went away, and Theseus lay down and slept sweetly.
When evening came the guards led him away to the labyrinth. And he went down into that doleful gulf, and he turned on the left hand and on the right hand, and went up and down till his head was dizzy, but all the while he held the clue. For when he went in he fastened it to a stone and left it to unroll out of his hand as he went on, and it lasted till he met the Minotaur in a narrow chasm between black cliffs.
And when he saw the Minotaur, he stopped a while, for he had never seen so strange a monster. His body was a man's, but his head was the head of a bull, and his teeth were the teeth of a lion. When he saw Theseus, he roared and put his head down and rushed right at him.
But Theseus stepped aside nimbly, and as the monster passed by, cut him in the knee, and ere he could turn in the narrow path, he followed him, and stabbed him again and again from behind, till the monster fled, bellowing wildly.
Theseus followed him, holding the clue of thread in his left hand, and at last he came up with him, where he lay panting, and caught him by the horns, and forced his head back, and drove the keen sword through his throat.
Then Theseus turned and went back, limping and weary, feeling his way by the clue of thread, till he came to the mouth of that doleful place, and saw waiting for him—whom but Ariadne?
And he whispered, "It is done," and showed her the sword. Then she laid her finger on her lips, and led him to the prison and opened the doors, and set all the prisoners free, while the guards lay sleeping heavily, for Ariadne had drugged them with wine.
So they fled to their ship together, and leapt on board and hoisted up the sail, and the night lay dark around them, so that they escaped all safe, and Ariadne became the wife of Theseus.
But that fair Ariadne never came to Athens with her husband. Some say that, as she lay sleeping on the shore, one of the gods found her and took her up into the sky, and some say that the gods drove away Theseus, and took Ariadne from him by force. But, however that may be, in his haste or his grief, Theseus forgot to put up the white sail.
Now Ægeus his father sat on the cliffs and watched day after day, and strained his old eyes across the waters to see the ship afar. And when he saw the black sail he gave up Theseus for dead, and in his grief he fell into the sea and was drowned, and it is called the Ægean Sea to this day.
Then Theseus was King of Athens, and he guarded it and ruled it well, and many wise things he did, so that his people honored him after he was dead, for many a hundred years, as the father of their freedom and of their laws.

HERCULES


THE TWELVE LABORS OF HERCULES

Hercules, the hero of strength and courage, was the son of Jupiter and Alcmene. His life was one long series of wonders.
As soon as he was born, Juno, who hated Alcmene with an exceeding great hatred, went to the Fates and begged them to make the life of the newly-born babe hard and perilous.
http://www.kidsgen.com/stories/legen...s/hercules.jpgThe Fates were three, namely, Clotho who spun the thread of life, Lachesis who settled the lot of gods and mortals in life, and Atropos who cut the thread of life spun by Clotho.
When once the Fates had decided what the lot of any being, whether god or man, was to be, Jupiter himself could not alter their decision.
It was to these fateful three, then, that Juno made her prayer concerning the infant Hercules. She could not, however, prevent him from having an honorable career, since it was written that he should triumph over all dangers and difficulties that might beset him.
All that was conceded to her was that Hercules should be put under the dominion of Eurystheus, King of Thebes, his eldest brother, a harsh and pitiless man. This only half satisfied the hatred of Juno, but it made the life of Hercules exceedingly bitter.
In fact, Hercules was but a child, when Juno sent two enormous serpents against him. These serpents, gliding into his cradle, were on the point of biting the child when he, with his own hands, seized them and strangled the life out of their slimy bodies.
Having grown up to man's estate, Hercules did many mighty deeds of valor that need not be recounted here. But the hatred of Juno always pursued him. At length, when he had been married several years, she made him mad and impelled him in his madness to kill his own beloved children!
When he came again to his sober senses, and learnt that he was the murderer of his own offspring he was filled with horror, and betook himself into exile so that he might hide his face from his fellow men. After a time he went to the oracle at Delphi to ask what he should do in atonement for his dreadful deed.
He was ordered to serve his brother Eurystheus—who, by the help of Juno, had robbed him of his kingdom—for twelve years. After this he was to become one of the Immortals. Eurystheus feared that Hercules might use his great strength and courage against him, in punishment for the evil that he had done. He therefore resolved to banish him and to impose such tasks upon him as must certainly bring about his destruction. Hence arose the famous twelve labors of Hercules.
Eurystheus first set Hercules to keep his sheep at Nemea and to kill the lion that ofttimes carried off the sheep, and sometimes the shepherd also.
The man-eater lurked in a wood that was hard by the sheep-run. Hercules would not wait to be attacked by him. Arming himself with a heavy club and with a bow and arrows, he went in search of the lion's lair and soon found it.
Finding that arrows and club made no impression upon the thick skin of the lion, the hero was constrained to trust entirely to his own thews and sinews. Seizing the lion with both hands, he put forth all his mighty strength and strangled the beast just as he had strangled the serpents in his cradle. Then, having despoiled the dead man-eater of his skin, Hercules henceforth wore this trophy as a garment, and as a shield and buckler.
In those days, there was in Greece a monstrous serpent known as the Hydra of Lerna, because it haunted a marsh of that name whence it issued in search of prey. As his second labor, Hercules was sent to slay this creature.
This reptile had nine heads of which the midmost was immortal. When Hercules struck off one of these heads with his club, two others at once appeared in its place. By the help of his servant, Hercules burned off the nine heads, and buried the immortal one beneath a huge rock.
The blood of the Hydra was a poison so subtle that Hercules, by dipping the points of his arrows therein, made them so deadly that no mortal could hope to recover from a wound inflicted by them. We shall see later that Hercules himself died from the poison of one of these self-same arrows.
The third labor imposed upon Hercules by Eurystheus was the capture of the Arcadian Stag. This remarkable beast had brazen feet and antlers of solid gold. Hercules was to carry the stag alive to Eurystheus.
It proved no easy task to do this. The stag was so fleet of foot that no one had been able to approach it. For more than a year, over hill and dale, Hercules pursued the beast without ever finding a chance of capturing it without killing it.
At length he shot at it and wounded it with an arrow—not, you may be sure, with one of the poisoned ones—and, having caught it thus wounded, he carried it on his shoulder to his brother and thus completed the third of his labors.
In the neighborhood of Mount Erymanthus, in Arcadia, there lived, in those far-off days, a savage boar that was in the habit of sallying forth from his lair and laying waste the country round about, nor had any man been able to capture or restrain him. To free the country from the ravages of this monster was the fourth labor of Hercules.
Having tracked the animal to his lurking place after chasing him through the deep snow, Hercules caught him in a net and bore him away in triumph on his shoulders to the feet of the amazed Eurystheus.
Augeas, King of Elis, in Greece, not far from Mount Olympus, owned a herd of oxen 3,000 in number. They were stabled in stables that had not been cleaned out for thirty years. The stench was terrible and greatly troubled the health of the land. Eurystheus set Hercules the task of cleaning out these Augean stables in a single day!
But the wit of the hero was equal to the occasion. With his great strength he diverted the flow of two rivers that ran their courses near the stables and made them flow right through the stables themselves, and lo! the nuisance that had been growing for thirty years was no more! Such was the fifth labor of Hercules.
On an island in a lake near Stymphalus, in Arcadia, there nested in those days some remarkable and terrible birds—remarkable because their claws, wings and beaks were brazen, and terrible because they fed on human flesh and attacked with their terrible beaks and claws all who came near the lake. To kill these dreadful birds was the sixth labor.
Minerva supplied Hercules with a brazen rattle with which he roused the birds from their nests, and then slew them with his poisoned arrows while they were on the wing.
This victory made Hercules popular throughout the whole of Greece, and Eurystheus saw that nothing he could devise was too hard for the hero to accomplish.
The seventh labor was to capture a mad bull that the Sea-god Neptune had let loose in the island of Crete, of which island Minos was at that time King.
This ferocious creature breathed out from his nostrils a whirlwind of flaming fire. But Hercules was, as you no doubt have guessed, too much for the brazen bull.
He not only caught the monster, but tamed him, and bore him aloft on his shoulders, into the presence of the affrighted Eurystheus, who was at a loss to find a task impossible for Hercules to perform.
The taking of the mares of Diomedes was the eighth labor. These horses were not ordinary horses, living on corn. They were flesh eaters, and moreover, they devoured human beings, and so were hateful to mankind.
On this occasion Hercules was not alone. He organised a hunt and, by the help of a few friends, caught the horses and led them to Eurystheus. The scene of this labor was Thrace, an extensive region lying between the Ægean Sea, the Euxine or Black Sea, and the Danube.
Seizing the girdle of Hippolyte was the next feat set for the hero. This labor was due to the desire of the daughter of Eurystheus for the girdle of Hippolyte, Queen of the Amazons—a tribe of female warriors. It is said that the girls had their right breasts cut off in order that they might use the bow with greater ease in battle! This, indeed, is the meaning of the term Amazon, which signifies "breastless."
After a troublesome journey Hercules arrived safely at the Court of Hippolyte, who received him kindly; and this labor might, perchance, have been a bloodless one had not his old enemy Juno stirred up the female warriors against him.
In the fight that followed, Hercules killed Hippolyte—a feat scarcely to be proud of—and carried off her girdle, and thus the vanity of the daughter of Eurystheus was gratified.
To capture the oxen of Geryon was the tenth labor of Hercules. In the person of Geryon we meet another of those strange beings in which the makers of myths and fairy tales seem to revel. Geryon was a three-bodied monster whose cattle were kept by a giant and a two-headed dog!
It is said that Hercules, on his way to the performance of this tenth labor, formed the Pillars of Hercules—those two rocky steeps that guard the entrance to the Straits of Gibraltar, i.e., Calpa (Gibraltar) and Abyla (Ceuta)—by rending asunder the one mountain these two rocks are said to have formed, although now they are eighteen miles apart.
Hercules slew the giant, the two-headed dog and Geryon himself, and in due course brought the oxen to Eurystheus.
Sometime afterwards, Eurystheus, having heard rumors of a wonderful tree which, in some unknown land, yielded golden apples, was moved with great greed to have some of this remarkable fruit. Hence he commanded Hercules to make the quest of this tree his eleventh labor. The hero had no notion where the tree grew, but he was bound by his bond to obey the King, so he set out and after a time reached the kingdom of Atlas, King of Africa. He had been told that Atlas could give him news of the tree.
I must tell you that King Atlas, having in the olden time helped the Titans in their wars against the gods, was undergoing punishment for this offence, his penance being to hold up the starry vault of heaven upon his shoulders. This means, perhaps, that in the kingdom of Atlas there were some mountains so high that their summits seemed to touch the sky.
Hercules offered to relieve Atlas of his load for a time, if he would but tell him where the famous tree was, upon which grew the golden fruit. Atlas consented, and for some days Hercules supported the earth and the starry vault of heaven upon his shoulders.
Then Atlas opened the gate of the Garden of the Hesperides to Hercules. These Hesperides were none other than the three daughters of Atlas, and it was their duty, in which they were helped by a dragon, to guard the golden apples.
Hercules killed the dragon and carried off the apples, but they were afterwards restored to their place by Minerva.
Cerberus, as perhaps you know, was the triple-headed dog that guarded the entrance to the nether world. To bring up this three-headed monster from the land of the dead was the last of the twelve labors. It was also the hardest.
Pluto, the god of the nether world, told Hercules he might carry off the dog if he could take him without using club or spear—never dreaming that the hero could perform such a difficult feat.
Hercules penetrated to the entrance of Pluto's gloomy regions, and, putting forth his strength succeeded, not only in seizing Cerberus, but also in carrying him to Eurystheus, and so brought the twelve labors to an end, and was released from his servitude to his cruel brother.
These exploits of strength and endurance do not by any means complete the tale of the wonderful doings of the great Greek hero. He continued his deeds of daring to the end of his life.
One of the last of his exploits was to kill the eagle that daily devoured the liver of Prometheus, whose story is both curious and interesting.
He is said to have been the great friend of mankind, and was chained to a rock on Mount Caucasus because he stole fire from heaven and gave it as a gift to the sons of man.
While in chains an eagle was sent by Jupiter daily to feed on Prometheus's liver, which Jupiter made to grow again each night. From this continuous torture he was released by Hercules, who slew the eagle and burst asunder the bonds of this friend of man.

HERCULES IN THE NETHER WORLD

Theseus and Pirithous were two Athenians, who, after having been at enmity for a long time at last became the very best of friends. They, like Hercules, had passed their youth in doing doughty deeds for the benefit of mankind, and their fame had spread abroad throughout the land of Greece. This did not prevent them from forming a very foolish project. They actually planned to go down to Hades and carry off Pluto's wife, Proserpina, whom Pirithous himself wished to marry.
This rashness brought about their ruin, for they were seized by Pluto and chained to a rock. All this Hercules, who was the friend of Theseus, learnt while on one of his journeys, and he resolved to rescue Theseus from his eternal punishment.
As for Pirithous, the prime mover in the attempted outrage, him Hercules meant to leave to his fate.
Hercules had been warned to take a black dog to sacrifice to Hecate and a cake to mollify Cerberus, as was usual; but he would not listen to such tales and meant to force his way to Theseus. When he found himself face to face with Cerberus he seized him, threw him down and chained him with strong chains.
The next difficulty in the way was black and muddy Acheron, the first of the seven rivers that ran round Hades, and formed a barrier between the living and the departed.
This river had not always run under the vaults of Hades. Formerly its course was upon the earth. But when the Titans attempted to scale the heaven, this river had the ill luck to quench their thirst, and Jupiter to punish even the waters of the river for abetting his enemies, turned its course aside into the under world where its waves, slow-moving and filthy, lost themselves in Styx, the largest of all the rivers of Hades, which ran round Pluto's gloomy kingdom no less than nine times.
On reaching the banks of Styx, Hercules was surprised to see flying around him a crowd of disconsolate spirits, whom Charon the Ferryman refused to row across Styx, because they could not pay him his fee of an obol, a Greek coin worth about three cents of our money, which the Greeks were accustomed to place in the mouths of their dead for the purpose, as they thought, of paying Charon his ferry fee.
Fierce Charon frowned when he beheld Hercules for he feared his light boat of bark would sink under his weight, it being only adapted for the light and airy spirits of the dead; but when the son of Jupiter told him his name he was mollified and allowed the hero to take his place at his side.
As soon as the boat had touched the shore, Hercules went towards the gloomy palace of Pluto where he with difficulty, on account of the darkness, saw Pluto seated upon an ebony throne by the side of his beloved Proserpina.
Pluto was not at all pleased to see the hero, as he hated the living and had interest only in the shades of the dead. When Hercules announced himself, however, he gave him a permit to go round his kingdom and, in addition, acceded to his prayer for the release of Theseus.
At the foot of Pluto's throne Hercules saw Death the Reaper. He was clothed in a black robe spotted with stars and his fleshless hand held the sharp sickle with which he is said to cut down mortals as the reaper cuts down corn.
Our hero was glad to escape from this dismal palace and as he did not know exactly where to find Theseus he began to make the circuit of Hades. During his progress he saw the shades of many people of whom, on earth, he had heard much talk.
He had been wandering about some time when, in a gloomy chamber, he saw three old sisters, wan and worn, spinning by the feeble light of a lamp. They were the Fates, deities whose duty it was to thread the days of all mortals who appeared on earth, were it but for an instant.
Clotho, the spinner of the thread of life, was the eldest of the three. She held in her hand a distaff, wound with black and white woollen yarn, with which were sparingly intermixed strands of silk and gold. The wool stood for the humdrum everyday life of man: the silk and gold marked the days of mirth and gladness, always, alas! too few in number.
Lachesis, the second of the Fates, was quickly turning with her left hand a spindle, while her right hand was leading a fine thread which the third sister, Atropos by name, used to cut with a pair of sharp shears at the death of each mortal.
You may imagine how hard these three sisters worked when you remember that the thread of life of every mortal had to pass through their fateful fingers. Hercules would have liked them to tell him how long they had yet to spin for him, but they had no time to answer questions and so the hero passed on.
Some steps farther he stopped before three venerable looking old men, seated upon a judgment seat, judging, as it seemed, a man newly come to Pluto's kingdom.
They were Minos, Æacus and Rhadamanthus, the three judges of Hades, whose duty it was to punish the guilty by casting them into a dismal gulf, Tartarus, whence none might ever emerge, and to reward the innocent by transporting them to the Elysian Fields where delight followed delight in endless pleasure.
These judges could never be mistaken because Themis, the Goddess of Justice, held in front of them a pair of scales in which she weighed the actions of men. Their decrees were instantly carried out by a pitiless goddess, Nemesis, or Vengeance by name, armed with a whip red with the gore of her sinful victims.

BLACK TARTARUS AND THE ELYSIAN FIELDS

Immediately on quitting the presence of the three judges, Hercules saw them open out before him an immense gulf whence arose thick clouds of black smoke. This smoke hid from view a river of fire that rolled its fiery waves onwards with a deafening din.
Not far remote from this rolled Cocytus, another endless stream, fed by the tears of the wretches doomed to Black Tartarus, in which place of eternal torment Hercules now found himself.
The rulers of these mournful regions were the Furies who, with unkempt hair and armed with whips, tormented the condemned without mercy by showing them continually in mirrors the images of their former crimes.
Into Tartarus were thrown, never to come out again, the shades or manes of traitors, ingrates, perjurers, unnatural children, murderers and hypocrites who had during their lives pretended to be upright and honorable in order to deceive the just.
But these wretches were not the only denizens of Black Tartarus. There were to be seen great scoundrels who had startled the world with their frightful crimes. For these Pluto and the Furies had invented special tortures.
Among the criminals so justly overtaken by the divine vengeance Hercules noticed Salmoneus, whom he had formerly met upon earth. This madman, whose pride had overturned his reason, thought himself to be a god equal to the Thunderer himself.
In order to imitate remotely the rolling of thunder, he used to be driven at night, over a brazen bridge, in a chariot, whence he hurled lighted torches upon his unhappy slaves who were crowded on the bridge and whom his guards knocked down in imitation of Jove's thunder-bolts.
Indignant at the pride and cruelty of the tyrant, Jupiter struck him with lightning in deadly earnest and then cast him into the outer darkness of Tartarus, where he was for ever burning without being consumed.
Sisyphus, the brother of Salmoneus, was no better than he. When on earth, he had been the terror of Attica, where, as a brigand, he had robbed and murdered with relentless cruelty.
Theseus, whom Hercules was bent on freeing from his torment, had met and killed this robber-assassin, and Jupiter, for his sins, decreed that the malefactor should continually be rolling up a hill in Tartarus a heavy stone which, when with incredible pains he had brought nearly to the top, always rolled back again, and he had to begin over and over again the heart-breaking ascent.
Some distance from Sisyphus Hercules came upon Tantalus, who, in the flesh, had been King of Phrygia, but who now, weak from hunger and parched with thirst, was made to stand to his chin in water with branches of tempting luscious fruit hanging ripe over his head. When he essayed to drink the water it always went from him, and when he stretched out his hand to pluck the fruit, back the branches sprang out of reach.
In addition an immense rock, hung over his head, threatened every moment to crush him.
It is said that Tantalus, when in the flesh, had betrayed the secrets of the gods and also committed other great crimes. For this he was "tantalized" with food and drink, which, seeming always to be within his reach, ever mocked his hopes by eluding his grasp.
The groans of a crowd of disheveled women next attracted the affrighted attention of Hercules. They were forty-nine of the fifty daughters of Danaus, King of Argos, who, at the instigation of their father, had killed their husbands because Danaus thought they were conspiring to depose him.
One only of the fifty, to wit Hypermnestra, had the courage to disobey this unlawful command and so saved the life of Lynceus, her husband, with whom she fled. Later on Lynceus returned and slew the cruel King in battle.
To punish the forty-nine Danaides, Jupiter cast them into the outer darkness of Black Tartarus, where they were ever engaged in the hopeless task of pouring water into a sieve. Hypermnestra, on the contrary, was honored while alive, and also after her death, for loving goodness even more than she loved her father.
Glutted with horror Hercules at length quitted gloomy Tartarus and beheld in front of him still another river. This was Lethe. Whoso drank the waters of this river, which separated the place of torment from the abode of the blest, lost memory of all that had been aforetime in his mind, and so was no longer troubled by even the remembrance of human misery.
Across Lethe stretched the Elysian Fields where the shades of the blest dwelt in bliss without alloy. An enchanting greenness made the sweet-smelling groves as pleasant to the eye as they were to the sense of smell. Sunlit, yet never parched with torrid heat, everywhere their verdure charmed the delighted eye, and all things conspired to make the shades of the good and wise, who were privileged to dwell in these Elysian Fields, delightfully happy.
Hercules saw, in these shady regions of the blest, a crowd of kings, heroes and men and women of lower degree who, while on earth, had loved and served their fellow men.
Having at length found and released Theseus, Hercules set out with him for the upper world. The two left Hades by an ivory door, the key of which Pluto had confided to their care.
What awesome tales they had to recount to their wondering friends of the marvels of Black Tartarus and of Radiant Elysium!

THE TUNIC OF NESSUS THE CENTAUR

There abode in Thessaly, in the days of Hercules, a strange race of men who had the head and arms of a man together with the body of a horse. They were called Centaurs, or Bull-Slayers.
One of them named Cheiron, famous for his knowledge of medicine, music and botany, had been the teacher of Hercules. But many of them, although learned, were not good. Hercules and Theseus had waged war on them and had killed many, so that their numbers were greatly lessened.
Having married Deianira, the daughter of a powerful King of Calydon, in Greece, Hercules was traveling home with her when he came to the banks of a river and was at a loss how to cross it. Seeing his perplexity, Nessus, one of the Centaurs, offered to take Deianira on his back and carry her over the stream. This offer Hercules gladly accepted.
No sooner, however, did the crafty Centaur obtain possession of Deianira than he made off with her, intending to have her as his own wife. You can easily imagine how angry this outrage made Hercules. He shot one of his poisoned arrows with so much force that it went right through the traitor Centaur, and wounded him even unto death.
But, before dying, Nessus had time to tell Deianira that if she wanted to keep Hercules always true to her she had but to take his shirt, and, when her husband's love was waning, prevail on him to wear it.
Deianira took the shirt, and shortly afterwards, being afraid that her husband was ceasing to love her, she sent it to him as a present.
Now, you will remember that Hercules had shot through the shirt of Nessus one of his poisoned arrows, and you will not be surprised to hear that some of the poison had remained in the shirt. So when Hercules put it on, which he did immediately upon receiving it, he was seized with frenzy and, in his madness, he uttered terrible cries and did dreadful deeds.
With his powerful hands he broke off huge pieces of rock, tore up pine-trees by their roots and hurled them with resounding din into the valley.
He could not take off the fatal shirt, and as he tore off portions of it he tore, at the same time, his quivering flesh.
The servant of Deianira who had carried him the fatal shirt, and who wished to solace him in his pain, he seized as she approached him and flung headlong into the sea, where she was changed into a rock that long, so runs the legend, kept its human form.
But at length the majesty and the courage of the hero asserted themselves, and, although still in agony, his madness left him.
Calling to his side his friend Philoctetes, he wished to embrace him once more before dying; but fearful lest he should, in so doing, infect his friend with the deadly poison that was consuming him, he cried in his agony: "Alas, I am not even permitted to embrace thee!"
Then he gathered together the trees he had uprooted and made a huge funeral pyre, such as was used by the ancients in burning their dead. Climbing to the top of the heap, he spread out the skin of the Nemean lion, and, supporting himself upon his club, gave the signal for Philoctetes to kindle the fire that was to reduce him to ashes.
In return for this service he gave Philoctetes a quiver full of those deadly arrows that had been dipped in the blood of the Hydra of Lerna.
He further enjoined his friend to let no man know of his departure from life, to the intent that the fear of his approach might prevent fresh monsters and new robbers from ravaging the earth.
Thus died Hercules, and after his death he was received as a god amongst the Immortals on Mount Olympus, where he married Hebe, Jove's cupbearer. In his honor mortals were commanded to build altars and to raise temples.

THE PERILOUS VOYAGE OF AENEAS


Once upon a time, nearly three thousand years ago, the city of Troy in Asia Minor was at the height of its prosperity. It was built on a fortified hill on the southern slopes of the Hellespont, and encircled by strong walls that the gods had helped to build. Through their favor Troy became so strong and powerful that she subdued many of the neighboring states and forced them to fight for her and do her bidding. Thus it happened that when the Greeks came to Asia with an army of 100,000 men, Troy was able to hold out against them for nine years, and in the tenth was only taken by a trick.
In the "Iliad" of Homer you may read all about the quarrel between the Trojans and Greeks, the fighting before Troy and the brave deeds done by Hector and Achilles, and many other heroes. You will see there how the gods took part in the quarrel, and how Juno, who was the wife of Jupiter and queen of heaven, hated Troy because Paris had given the golden apple to Venus as the fairest among goddesses. Juno never forgave this insult to her beauty, and vowed that she would not rest till the hated city was destroyed and its very name wiped from the face of the earth. You shall now hear how she carried out her threat, and overwhelmed Aeneas with disasters.
After a siege that lasted ten years Troy was taken at last by means of the wooden horse, which the Trojans foolishly dragged into the city with their own hands. Inside it were hidden a number of Greeks, who were thus carried into the heart of the enemy's city. The Trojans celebrated the departure of the Greeks by feasting and drinking far into the night; but when at last they retired to rest, the Greeks stole out of their hiding-place, and opened the gates to their army, which had only pretended to withdraw. Before the Trojans had recovered their wits the town was full of enemies, who threw blazing torches on the houses and killed every citizen who fell into their hands.
Among the many noble princes who fought against the Greeks none was braver and handsomer than Aeneas. His mother was the goddess Venus, and his father a brave and powerful Prince named Anchises, while Creusa, his wife, was one of King Priam's daughters. On that dreadful night, when the Greeks were burning and killing in the very streets of Troy, Aeneas lay sleeping in his palace when there appeared to him a strange vision. He thought that Hector stood before him carrying the images of the Trojan gods and bade him arise and leave the doomed city. "To you Troy entrusts her gods and her fortunes. Take these images, and go forth beyond the seas, and with their auspices found a new Troy on foreign shores."
Roused from his slumbers Aeneas sprang up in haste, put on his armor and rushed into the fray. He was joined by a few comrades, and together they made their way through the enemy, killing all who blocked their path. But when they reached the royal palace and found that the Greeks had already forced their way in and killed the aged man by his own hearth, Aeneas remembered his father and his wife and his little son Ascanius. Since he could not hope to save the city he might at least take thought for his own kin. While he still hesitated whether to retire or continue the fight, his goddess mother appeared and bade him go and succor his household. "Your efforts to save the city are vain," she said. "The gods themselves make war on Troy. Juno stands by the gate urging on the Greeks, Jupiter supplies them with hope and courage, and Neptune is breaking down with his trident the walls he helped to raise. Fly, my son, fly. I will bring you safely to your own threshold."
Guided by her protecting hand, Aeneas came in safety to his palace, and bade his family prepare in all haste for flight. But his father refused to stir a step. "Let me die here at the enemy's hands," he implored. "Better thus than to go into exile in my old age. Do you go, my son, whither the gods summon you, and leave me to my fate." In vain Aeneas reasoned and pleaded, in vain he refused to go without his father; neither prayers nor entreaties would move Anchises till the gods sent him a sign. Suddenly the child's hair burst into flames. The father and mother were terrified, but Anchises recognised the good omen, and prayed the gods to show whether his interpretation was the true one. In answer there came a clap of thunder and a star flashed across the sky and disappeared among the woods on Mount Ida. Then Anchises was sure that the token was a true one. "Delay no more!" he cried. "I will accompany you, and go in hope wheresoever the gods of my country shall lead me. This is a sign from heaven, and the gods, if it be their will, may yet preserve our city."
"Come then, father!" cried Aeneas joyfully. "Let me take you on my back, for your feeble limbs would move too slowly for the present danger. You shall hold the images of the gods, since it would be sacrilege for me to touch them with my blood-stained hands. Little Ascanius shall take my hand, and Creusa will follow us closely."
He now ordered the servants to collect all the most valuable possessions, and bring them to him at the temple of Ceres, just outside the city. Then he set out with father, wife and son, and they groped their way through the city by the light of burning homesteads. Thus they passed at last through the midst of the enemy, and reached the temple of Ceres. There, to his dismay, Aeneas missed Creusa. He rushed back to the city and made his way to his own house. He found it in flames, and the enemy were sacking the ruins. Nowhere could he find a trace of his wife. Wild with grief and anxiety he wandered at random through the city till suddenly he fancied he saw Creusa. But it was her ghost, not her living self. She spoke to her distracted husband and bade him grieve no more. "Think not," she said, "that this has befallen without the will of the gods. The Fates have decided that Creusa shall not follow you to your new home. There are long and weary wanderings before you, and you must traverse many stormy seas before you come to the western land where the river Tiber pours its gentle stream through the fertile pastures of Italy. There shall you find a kingdom and a royal bride. Cease then to mourn for Creusa." Aeneas tried to clasp her in his arms, but in vain, for he only grasped the empty air. Then he understood that the gods desired him to go forth into the world alone.
While Aeneas was seeking Creusa a group of Trojans who had escaped the enemy and the flames had collected at the temple of Ceres, and he found them ready and willing to join him and follow his fortunes. The first rays of the sun were touching the peaks of Ida when Aeneas and his comrades turned their backs on the ill-fated city, and went towards the rising sun and the new hope.
For several months Aeneas and his little band of followers lived as refugees among the hills of Ida, and their numbers grew as now one, now another, came to join them. All through the winter they were hard at work cutting down trees and building ships, which were to carry them across the seas. When spring came the fleet was ready, and the little band set sail. First they merely crossed the Hellespont to Thrace, for Aeneas hoped to found a city here and revive the name of Troy. But bad omens came to frighten the Trojans and drive them back to their ships.
They now took a southward course, and sailed on without stopping till they reached Delos, the sacred isle of Apollo. Here Aeneas entered the temple and offered prayer to the lord of prophecy. "Grant us a home, Apollo, grant us an abiding city. Preserve a second Troy for the scanty remnant that escaped the swords of the Greeks and the wrath of cruel Achilles. Tell us whom to follow, whither to turn, where to found our city."
His prayer was not offered in vain, for a voice spoke in answer. "Ye hardy sons of Dardanus, the land that erst sent forth your ancestral race shall welcome you back to its fertile fields. Go and seek your ancient mother. There shall the offspring of Aeneas rule over all the lands, and their children's children unto the furthest generations."
When he had heard this oracle, Anchises said, "In the middle of the sea lies an island called Crete, which is sacred to Jupiter. There we shall find an older Mount Ida, and beside it the cradle of our race. Thence, if tradition speaks truth, our great ancestor Teucrus set sail for Asia and there he founded his kingdom, and named our mountain Ida. Let us steer our course therefore to Crete, and if Jupiter be propitious, the third dawn will bring us to its shores."

Accordingly they set out again full of hope, and passed in and out again among the gleaming islands of the Ægean, till at last they came to Crete. There they disembarked, and began to build a city. The houses were rising, the citadel was almost ready, the fields were planted and sown, and the young men were seeking wives, when suddenly the crops were stricken by a blight and the men by a pestilence. Surely, they thought, this could not be the home promised them by Apollo. In this distress Anchises bade his son return to Delos and implore the gods to vouchsafe further counsel.
At night Aeneas lay down to rest, troubled by many anxieties, when suddenly he was roused by the moonlight streaming through the window and illuminating the images of the Trojan gods. It seemed as though they opened their lips and spoke to him. "All that Apollo would have told you at Delos, we may declare to you here, for he has given us a message to you. We followed your arms after the burning of Troy, and traversed the ocean under your guidance, and we shall raise your descendants to the stars and give dominion to their city. But do not seek it here. These are not the shores that Apollo assigns you, nor may Crete be your abiding place. Far to the west lies the land which the Greeks called Hesperia, but which now bears the name of Italy. There is our destined home; thence came Dardanus, our great ancestor and the father of our race."
Amazed at this vision, Aeneas sprang up and lifted his hands to heaven in prayer. Then he hastened to tell Anchises of this strange event. They resolved to tarry no longer, but turning their backs on the rising walls they drew their ships down to the sea again, and once more set forth in search of a new country.
Now they sailed towards the west, and rounded the south of Greece into the Ionian Sea. But a storm drove them out of their course, and the darkness was so thick that they could not tell night from day, and the helmsman, Palinurus, knew not whither he was steering. Thus they were tossed about aimlessly for three days and nights, till at last they saw land ahead and, lowering their sails, rowed safely into a quiet harbor. Not a human being was in sight, but herds of cattle grazed on the pastures, and goats sported untended on the rocks. Here was even food in plenty for hungry men. They killed oxen and goats, and made ready a feast for themselves, and a sacrifice for the gods. The repast was prepared, and Aeneas and his comrades were about to enjoy it, when a sound of rustling wings was heard all round them. Horrible creatures, half birds, half women, with long talons and cruel beaks, swooped down on the tables and carried off the food before the eyes of the terrified banqueters. These were the Harpies, who had once been sent to plague King Phineus, and when they were driven away by two of the Argonauts, Zetes and Calais, took refuge in these islands. In vain the Trojans attacked them with their swords, for the monsters would fly out of reach, and then dart back again on a sudden, and pounce once more on the food, while Celæno, chief of the Harpies, perched on a rock and chanted in hoarse tones a prophecy of ill omen. "You that kill our oxen and seek to drive us from our rightful home, hearken to my words, which Jupiter declared to Apollo, and Apollo told even to me. You are sailing to Italy, and you shall reach Italy and enter its harbors. But you are not destined to surround your city with a wall, till cruel hunger and vengeance for the wrong you have done us force you to gnaw your very tables with your teeth."
When the Trojans heard this terrible prophecy their hearts sank within them, and Anchises, lifting his hands to heaven, besought the gods to avert this grievous doom. Thus, full of sad forebodings, they returned to their ships.
Their way now lay along the western coast of Greece, and they were glad to slip unnoticed past the rocky island of Ithaca, the home of Ulysses the wily. For they did not know that he was still held captive by the nymph Calypso, and that many years were to pass before he should be restored to his kingdom. They next cast anchor off Leucadia, and passed the winter in these regions. In spring they sailed north again, and landed in Epirus, and here to their surprise they found Helenus, one of the sons of Priam, ruling over a Greek people. He welcomed his kinsman joyfully and, having the gift of prophecy from Apollo, foretold the course of his wanderings. "Italy, which you deem so near, is a far-distant land, and many adventures await you before you reach that shore where lies your destined home. Before you reach it, you will visit Sicily, and the realms of the dead and the island of Circe. But I will give you a sign whereby you may know the appointed place. When by the banks of a secluded stream you shall see a huge white sow with her thirty young ones, then shall you have reached the limit of your wanderings. Be sure to avoid the eastern coast of Italy opposite these shores. Wicked Greek tribes have their dwelling there, and it is safer to pass at once to the western coast. On your left, you will hear in the Strait the thundering roar of Charybdis, and on the right grim Scylla sits scowling in her cave ready to spring on the unwary traveler. Better take a long circuit round Sicily than come even within sight and sound of Scylla. As soon as you touch the western shores of Italy, go to the city of Cumæ and the Sibyl's cavern. Try to win her favor, and she will tell you of the nations of Italy and the wars yet to come, and how you may avoid each peril and accomplish every labor. One warning would I give you and enjoin it with all my power. If you desire to reach your journey's end in safety, forget not to do homage to Juno. Offer up prayers to her divinity, load her altars with gifts. Then, and then only, may you hope for a happy issue from all your troubles!"
So once more the Trojans set sail, and obedient to the warnings of Helenus they avoided the eastern coast of Italy, and struck southward towards Sicily. Far up the channel they heard the roar of Charybdis and hastened their speed in fear. Soon the snowy cone of Etna came into view with its column of smoke rising heavenward. As they lay at anchor hard by, a ragged, half-starved wretch ran out of the woods calling loudly on Aeneas for succor. This was one of the comrades of Ulysses, who had been left behind by mistake, and lived in perpetual dread of the savage Cyclôpes. Aeneas was moved to pity, and though the man was a Greek and an enemy, he took him on board and gave him food and succor. Before they left this place they had a glimpse of Polyphemus himself. The blind giant came down the cliff with his flock, feeling his way with a huge staff of pine-trunk. He even stepped into the sea, and walked far out without wetting his thighs. The Trojans hastily slipped their cables, and made away. Polyphemus heard the sound of their oars, and called his brother Cyclôpes to come and seize the strangers, but they were too late to overtake the fugitives.
After this they continued their southward course, passing the island where Syracuse now stands, and rounding the southern coast of Sicily. Then they sailed past the tall rock of Acragas and palm-loving Selinus, and so came to the western corner, where the harbor of Drepanun gave them shelter. Here a sorrow overtook Aeneas, that neither the harpy nor the seer had foretold. Anchises, weary with wandering and sick of long-deferred hope, fell ill and died. Sadly Aeneas sailed from hence without his trusted friend and counselor, and steered his course for Italy.
At last the goal seemed at hand and the dangers of the narrow strait had been escaped. But Aeneas had a far more dangerous enemy than Scylla and Charybdis, for Juno's wrath was not yet appeased. He had offered prayer and sacrifice, as Helenus bade him, but her long-standing grudge was not so easily forgotten. She hated Troy and the Trojans with an undying hatred, and would not suffer even these few-storm-tossed wanderers to seek their new home in peace. She knew too that it was appointed by the Fates that a descendant of this fugitive Trojan should one day found a city destined to eclipse in wealth and glory her favorite city of Carthage. This she desired to avert at all costs, and if even the queen of heaven was not strong enough to overrule fate, at least she resolved that the Trojans should not enter into their inheritance without many and grievous tribulations.
Off the northerncoast of Sicily lies a group of small islands, still called the Æolian Isles, after Æolus, king of the winds, whose palace stood upon the largest. Here he lived in a rock-bound castle, and kept the boisterous winds fast bound in strong dungeons, that they might not go forth unbidden to work havoc and destruction. But for his restraining hand they would have burst forth and swept away land and sea in their fury. To this rocky fortress Juno came with a request to Æolus. "Men of a race hateful to me are now crossing the sea. I beseech you, therefore, send a storm to scatter the ships and drown the men in the waves. As a reward I will give you one of my fairest nymphs in marriage." Thus she urged, and at her bidding Æolus struck the rock and the prison gates were opened. The winds at once rushed forth in all directions. The clouds gathered and blotted out sky and daylight, thunder roared and lightning flashed, and the Trojans thought their last hour had come. Even Aeneas lost heart, and envied the lot of those who fell before Troy by the sword of Diomede. Soon a violent gust struck his ship, the oars were broken, and the prow turned round and exposed the side to the waves. The water closed over it, then opened again, and drew down the vessel, leaving the men floating on the water. Three ships were dashed against sunken rocks, three were driven among the shallows and blocked with a mound of sand. Another was struck from stem to stern, then sucked down into a whirlpool. One after another the rest succumbed, and it seemed as if each moment must see their utter destruction.
Meantime Neptune in his palace at the bottom of the sea had noticed the sudden disturbance of the waters, and now put out his head above the waves to learn the cause of this commotion. When he saw the shattered Trojan ships he guessed that this was Juno's work. Instantly he summoned the winds and chid them for daring to disturb the waters without his leave. "Begone," he said, "and tell your master Æolus that the dominion of the sea is mine, not his. Let him be content to keep guard over you and see that you do not escape from your prison." While he spoke Neptune was busy calming the waters, and it was not long before he put the clouds to flight and brought back the sunshine. Nymphs came to push the ships off the rocks, and Neptune himself opened a way out of the shallows. Then he returned to his chariot, and his white horses carried him lightly across the calm waters.
Thankful to have saved a few of his ships, all shattered and leaking as they were, Aeneas bade the helmsman steer for the nearest land. What was their joy to see within easy reach a quiet harbor closed in by a sheltering island. The entrance was guarded by twin cliffs, and a forest background closed in the scene. Once within this shelter the weary vessels needed no anchor to secure them. Here at last Aeneas and his comrades could stretch their aching limbs on dry land. They kindled a fire of leaves with a flint, and dried their sodden corn for a scanty meal.
Aeneas now climbed one of the hills to see whether he might catch a glimpse of any of the missing ships. Not a sail was in sight, but in the valley below he spied a herd of deer grazing. Here was better food for hungry men. Drawing an arrow from his quiver, he fitted it to his bow, let fly, and a mighty stag fell to his aim. Six others shared its fate, then Aeneas returned with his booty and bade his friends make merry with venison and Sicilian wine from the ships. As they ate and drank, he tried to hearten the Trojans. "Endure a little longer," he urged. "Think of the perils through which we have passed, remember the dreadful Cyclôpes and cruel Scylla. Despair not now, for one day the memory of past sufferings shall delight your hours of ease. Through toils and hardships we are making our way to Latium, where the gods have promised us a peaceful home and a new and glorious Troy. Hold out a little while, and wait for the happy days in store."

HOW HORATIUS HELD THE BRIDGE

King Tarquin* and his son Lucius (for he only remained to him of the three) fled to Lars Porsenna, King of Clusium, and besought him that he would help them. "Suffer not," they said, "that we, who are Tuscans by birth, should remain any more in poverty and exile. And take heed also to thyself and thine own kingdom if thou permit this new fashion of driving forth kings to go unpunished. For surely there is [pg 283] that in freedom which men greatly desire, and if they that be kings defend not their dignity as stoutly as others seek to overthrow it, then shall the highest be made even as the lowest, and there shall be an end of kingship, than which there is nothing more honorable under heaven." With these words they persuaded King Porsenna, who judging it well for the Etrurians that there should be a king at Rome, and that king an Etrurian by birth, gathered together a great army and came up against Rome. But when men heard of his coming, so mighty a city was Clusium in those days, and so great the fame of King Porsenna, there was such fear as had never been before. Nevertheless they were steadfastly purposed to hold out. And first all that were in the country fled into the city, and round about the city they set guards to keep it, part thereof being defended by walls, and part, for so it seemed, being made safe by the river. But here a great peril had well-nigh over-taken the city; for there was a wooden bridge on the river by which the enemy had crossed but for the courage of a certain Horatius Cocles. The matter fell out in this wise.
There was a certain hill which men called Janiculum on the side of the river, and this hill King Porsenna took by a sudden attack. Which when Horatius saw (for he chanced to have been set to guard the bridge, and saw also how the enemy were running at full speed to the place, and how the Romans were fleeing in confusion and threw away their arms as they ran), he cried with a loud voice, "Men of Rome, it is to no purpose that ye thus leave your post and flee, for if ye leave this bridge behind you for men to pass over, ye shall soon find that ye have more enemies in your city than in Janiculum. Do ye therefore break it down with axe and fire as best ye can. In the meanwhile I, so far as one man may do, will stay the enemy." And as he spake he ran forward to the farther end of the bridge and made ready to keep the way against the enemy. Nevertheless there stood two with him, Lartius and Herminius by name, men of noble birth both of them and of great renown in arms. So these three for a while stayed the first onset of the enemy; and the men of Rome meanwhile brake down the bridge. And when there was but a small part remaining, [pg 284] and they that brake it down called to the three that they should come back, Horatius bade Lartius and Herminius return, but he himself remained on the farther side, turning his eyes full of wrath in threatening fashion on the princes of the Etrurians, and crying, "Dare ye now to fight with me? or why are ye thus come at the bidding of your master, King Porsenna, to rob others of the freedom that ye care not to have for yourselves?" For a while they delayed, looking each man to his neighbor, who should first deal with this champion of the Romans. Then, for very shame, they all ran forward, and raising a great shout, threw their javelins at him. These all he took upon his shield, nor stood the less firmly in his place on the bridge, from which when they would have thrust him by force, of a sudden the men of Rome raised a great shout, for the bridge was now altogether broken down, and fell with a great crash into the river. And as the enemy stayed a while for fear, Horatius turned him to the river and said, "O Father Tiber, I beseech thee this day with all reverence that thou kindly receive this soldier and his arms." And as he spake he leapt with all his arms into the river and swam across to his own people, and though many javelins of the enemy fell about him, he was not one whit hurt. Nor did such valor fail to receive due honor from the city. For the citizens set up a statue of Horatius in the market-place; and they gave him of the public land so much as he could plow about in one day. Also there was this honor paid him, that each citizen took somewhat of his own store and gave it to him, for food was scarce in the city by reason of the siege.


Note: * King Tarquin had been driven from Rome because of his tyranny.

HOW CINCINNATUS SAVED ROME


It came to pass that the Aequians brake the treaty of peace which they had made with Rome, and, taking one Gacchus Cloelius for their leader, marched into the land of Tusculum; and when they had plundered the country there-abouts, and had gathered together much booty, they pitched their camp on Mount Ægidus. To them the Romans sent three ambassadors, who should complain of the wrong done and seek redress. But when they would have fulfilled their errand, Gracchus the Æquin spake, saying, "If ye have any message from the Senate of Rome, tell it to this oak, for I have other business to do;" for it chanced that there was a great oak that stood hard by, and made a shadow over the general's tent. Then one of the ambassadors, as he turned to depart, made reply, "Yes, let this sacred oak and all the gods that are in heaven hear how ye have wrongfully broken the treaty of peace; and let them that hear help us also in the day of battle, when we shall avenge on you the laws both of gods and of men that ye set at nought."
When the ambassadors had returned to Rome the Senate commanded that there should be levied two armies; and that Minucius the Consul should march with the one against the Aequians on Mount Ægidus, and that the other should hinder the enemy from their plundering. This levying the tribunes of the Commons sought to hinder; and perchance had done so, but there also came well-nigh to the walls of the city a great host of the Sabines plundering all the country. Thereupon the people willingly offered themselves and there were levied forthwith two great armies. Nevertheless when the Consul Minucius had marched to Mount Ægidus, and had pitched his camp not far from the Aequians, he did nought for fear of the enemy, but kept himself within his entrenchments. And when the enemy perceived that he was afraid, growing the bolder for his lack of courage, they drew lines about him, keeping him in on every side. Yet before that he was altogether shut up there escaped from his camp five horsemen, that bare tidings to Rome how that the Consul, together with his army, was besieged. The people were sorely dismayed to hear such tidings; nor, when they cast about for help, saw they any man that might be sufficient for such peril, save only Cincinnatus. By common consent, therefore, he was made Dictator for six months, a thing that may well be noted by those who hold that nothing is to be accounted of in comparison of riches, and that no man may win great honor or show forth singular virtue unless he be well furnished with wealth. For here in this great peril of the Roman people there was no hope of safety but in one who was cultivating with his own hand a little plot of scarcely three acres of ground. For when the messengers of the people came to him they found him plowing, or, as some say, digging a ditch. When they had greeted each other, the messengers said, "May the Gods prosper this thing to the Roman people and to thee. Put on thy robe and hear the words of the people." Then said Cincinnatus, being not a little astonished, "Is all well?" and at the same time he called to his wife Racilia that she should bring forth his robe from the cottage. So she brought it forth, and the man wiped from him the dust and the sweat, and clad himself in his robe, and stood before the messengers. These said to him, "The people of Rome make thee Dictator, and bid thee come forthwith to the city." And at the same time they told how the Consul and his army were besieged by the Aequians. So Cincinnatus departed to Rome; and when he came to the other side of the Tiber there met him first his three sons, and next many of his kinsfolk and friends, and after them a numerous company of the nobles. These all conducted him to his house, the lictors, four and twenty in number, marching before him. There was also assembled a very great concourse of the people, fearing much how the Dictator might deal with them, for they knew what manner of man he was, and that there was no limit to his power, nor any appeal from him.
The next day, before dawn, the Dictator came into the market-place, and appointed one Lucius Tarquinius to be Master of the Horse. This Tarquinius was held by common consent to excel all other men in exercises of war; only, though, being a noble by birth, he should have been among the horsemen, he had served for lack of means, as a foot soldier. This done he called an assembly of the people and commanded that all the shops in the city should be shut; that no man should concern himself with any private business, but all that were of an age to go to the war should be present before sunset in the Field of Mars, each man having with him provisions of cooked food for five days, and twelve stakes. As for them that were past the age, they should prepare the food while the young men made ready their arms and sought for the stakes. These last they took as they found them, no man hindering them; and when the time appointed by the Dictator was come, all were assembled, ready, as occasion might serve, either to march or to give battle. Forthwith they set out, the Dictator leading the foot soldiers by their legions, and Tarquinius the horsemen, and each bidding them that followed make all haste. "We must needs come," they said, "to our journey's end while it is yet night. Remember that the Consul and his army have been besieged now for three days, and that no man knows what a day or a night may bring forth." The soldiers themselves also were zealous to obey, crying out to the standard-*bearers that they should quicken their steps, and to their fellows that they should not lag behind. Thus they came at midnight to Mount Ædigus, and when they perceived that the enemy was at hand they halted the standards. Then the Dictator rode forward to see, so far as the darkness would suffer him, how great was the camp of the Aequians and after what fashion it was pitched. This done he commanded that the baggage should be gathered together into a heap, and that the soldiers should stand every man in his own place. After this he compassed about the whole army of the enemy with his own army, and commanded that at a set signal every man should shout, and when they had shouted should dig a trench and set up therein the stakes. This the soldiers did, and the noise of the shouting passed over the camp of the enemy and came into the city, causing therein great joy, even as it caused great fear in the camp. For the Romans cried, "These be our countrymen and they bring us help." Then said the Consul, "We must make no delay. By that shout is signified, not that they are come only, but that they are already dealing with the enemy. Doubtless the camp of the Aequians is even now assailed from without. Take ye your arms and follow me." So the legion went forth, it being yet night, to the battle, and as they went they shouted, that the Dictator might be aware. Now the Aequians had set themselves to hinder the making of a ditch and rampart which should shut them in; but when the Romans from the camp fell upon them, fearing lest these should make their way through the midst of their camp, they left them that were with Cincinnatus to finish their entrenching, and fought with the Consul. And when it was now light, lo! they were already shut in, and the Romans, having finished their entrenching, began to trouble them. And when the Aequians perceived that the battle was now on either side of them, they could withstand no longer, but sent ambassadors praying for peace, and saying, "Ye have prevailed; slay us not, but rather permit us to depart, leaving our arms behind us." Then said the Dictator, "I care not to have the blood of the Aequians. Ye may depart, but ye shall depart passing under the yoke, that ye may thus acknowledge to all men that ye are indeed vanquished." Now the yoke is thus made. There are set up in the ground two spears, and over them is bound by ropes a third spear. So the Aequians passed under the yoke.
In the camp of the enemy there was found abundance of spoil. This the Dictator gave wholly to his own soldiers. "Ye were well-nigh a spoil to the enemy," said he to the army of the Consul, "therefore ye shall have no share in the spoiling of them. As for thee, Minucius, be thou a lieutenant only till thou hast learnt how to bear thyself as a consul." Meanwhile at Rome there was held a meeting of the Senate, at which it was commanded that Cincinnatus should enter the city in triumph, his soldiers following him in order of march. Before his chariot there were led the generals of the enemy; also the standards were carried in the front; and after these came the army, every man laden with spoil. That day there was great rejoicing in the city, every man setting forth a banquet before his doors in the street.
After this, Virginius, that had borne false witness against Cæso, was found guilty of perjury, and went into exile. And when Cincinnatus saw that justice had been done to this evildoer, he resigned his dictatorship, having held it for sixteen days only.