While Perseus, the brave son of Jupiter,surrounded at the feast by Cepheus' lords,narrated this, a raging multitudewith sudden outcry filled the royal courts—not with the clamours of a wedding feastbut boisterous rage, portentous of dread war.As when the fury of a great wind strikesa tranquil sea, tempestuous billows rollacross the peaceful bosom of the deep;so were the pleasures at the banquet changedto sudden tumult.Foremost of that throng,the rash ring-leader, Phineus, shook his spear,brass-tipped of ash, and shouted, “Ha, 'tis I!I come avenger of my ravished bride!Let now your flittering wings deliver you,or even Jupiter, dissolved in showersof imitation gold.” So boasted he,aiming his spear at Perseus.Thus to himcried Cepheus: “Hold your hand, and strike him not!What strange delusions, O my brother, havecompelled you to this crime? Is it the justrequital of heroic worth? A fairreguerdon for the life of her you loved?“If truth were known, not Perseus ravished herfrom you; but, either 'twas the awful Godthat rules the Nereides; or Ammon, crownedwith crescent horns; or that monstrosityof Ocean's vast abyss, which came to gluthis famine on the issue of my loins.Nor was your suit abandoned till the timewhen she must perish and be lost to you.So cruel are you, seeking my daughter's death,rejoicing lightly in our deep despair.—“And was it not enough for you to standsupinely by, while she was bound in chains,and offer no assistance, though you wereher lover and betrothed? And will you grievethat she was rescued from a dreadful fate,and spoil her champion of his just rewards?Rewards that now may seem magnificent,but not denied to you if you had wonand saved, when she was fettered to the rock.“Let him, whose strength to my declining yearsrestored my child, receive the merit duehis words and deeds; and know his suit was notpreferred to yours, but granted to preventher certain death.”not deigning to reply,against them Phineus stood; and glancing backfrom him to Perseus, with alternate looks,as doubtful which should feel his first attack,made brief delay. Then vain at Perseus hurledhis spear, with all the force that rage inspired,but, missing him it quivered in a couch.Provoked beyond endurance Perseus leapedforth from the cushioned seats, and fiercely sentthat outwrenched weapon back. It would have piercedhis hostile breast had not the miscreant crouchedbehind the altars. Oh perverted good,that thus an altar should abet the wrong!But, though the craven Phineus escaped,not vainly flew the whizzing point, but struckin Rhoetus' forehead. As the barb was tornout of the bone, the victim's heels beganto kick upon the floor, and spouting blooddefiled the festal board. Then truly flamein uncontrolled rage the vulgar crowd,and hurl their harmful darts.And there are somewho hold that Cepheus and his son-in-lawdeserved to die; but Cepheus had passed forththe threshold of his palace: having calledon all the Gods of Hospitalityand Truth and Justice to attest, he gaveno comfort to the enemies of Peace.Unconquered Pallas is at hand and holdsher Aegis to protect her brother's life;she lends him dauntless courage. At the feastwas one from India's distant shores, whose namewas Athis. It was said that Limnate,the daughter of the River Ganges, himin vitreous caverns bright had brought to birth;and now at sixteen summers in his prime,the handsome youth was clad in costly robes.A purple mantle with a golden fringecovered his shoulders, and a necklace, carvedof gold, enhanced the beauty of his throat.His hair encompassed with a coronal,delighted with sweet myrrh. Well taught was heto hurl the javelin at a distant mark,and none with better skill could stretch the bow.No sooner had he bent the pliant hornsthan Perseus, with a smoking billet, seizedfrom the mid-altar, struck him on the face,and smashed his features in his broken skull.And when Assyrian Lycabas had seenhis dear companion, whom he truly loved,beating his handsome countenance in blood.And when he had bewailed his lost life,that ebbed away from that unpiteous wound,he snatched the bow that Athis used, and said;“Let us in single combat seek revenge;not long will you rejoice the stripling's fate;a deed most worthy shame.” So speaking, forththe piercing arrow bounded from the cord,which, though avoided, struck the hero's cloakand fastened in its folds.—Then Perseus turnedupon him, with the trusted curving sword,cause of Medusa's death, and drove the bladedeep in his breast. The dying victim's eyes,now swimming in a shadowous night, looked 'roundfor Athis, whom, beholding, he reclinedupon, and ushered to the other world,—sad consolation of united death.

And Phorbas the descendant of Methion.Who hailed from far Syene, with his friendAmphimedon of Libya, in their hasteto join the battle, slipped up in the bloodand fell together: just as they arosethat glittering sword was driven through the throatof Phorbas into the ribs of his companion.But Erithus, the son of Actor, swunga battle-ax, so weighty, Perseus chosenot combat with his curving blade. He seizedin his two hands a huge bowl, wrought aroundwith large design, outstanding from its mass.This, lifting up, he dashes on his foe,who vomits crimson blood, and falling backbeats on the hard floor with his dying head.And next he slew Caucasian Abaris,and Polydaemon—from Semiramisnobly descended—and Sperchius, son,Lycetus, long-haired Elyces, unshorn,Clytus and Phlegias, the hero slew;—and trampled on the dying heaped around.Not daring to engage his enemyin open contest, Phineus held aloof,and hurled his javelin. Badly aimed—by somemischance or turned—it wounded Idas, whohad followed neither side; vain-hoping thusto shun the conflict.Idas, filled with rage,on Phineus gazed with futile hate, and said,“Since I am forced unwilling to such deeds,behold, whom you have made your enemy,O savage Phineus! Let your recompensebe stroke for stroke.” So speaking, from the woundhe drew the steel, but, faint from loss of blood,before his arm could hurl the weapon back,he sank upon his knees.Here, also, liesOdytes,—noblest of the Cephenes,save Cepheus only,—slaughtered by the swordof Clymenus. And Prothoenor liesthe victim of Hypseus; by his sideHypseus slaughtered by Lyncidas falls.And in the midst of this destruction stoodEmathion, now an aged man, revered,who feared the Gods, and stood for upright deeds.And, since his years denied him strength for war,he battled with his tongue, and railed, and cursedtheir impious weapons. As that aged manclings to the altar with his trembling hands,Chromis with ruthless sword cuts off his head,which straightway falls upon the altar, whencehis dying tongue denounces them in wordsof execration: and his soul expiresamid the altar flames.Then Broteasand Ammon, his twin brother, who not knewtheir equals at the cestus, by the handof Phineus fell; for what avails in deedthe cestus as a weapon matched with swords.Ampycus by the same hand fell,—the priestof Ceres, with his temples wreathed in white.And O, Iapetides not for thisdid you attend the feast! Your voice attunedmelodious to the harp, was in requestto celebrate the wedding-day with song,—a work of peace; as you did stand aside,holding the peaceful plectrum in your hand,the mocking Pettalus in ridicule said,“Go sing your ditties to the Stygian shades.”And, mocking thus, he drove his pointed swordin your right temple. As your limbs gave way,your dying fingers swept the tuneful strings:and falling you did chant a mournful dirge.—You to avenge enraged Lycormas torea huge bar from the door-post, on the right,and dashing it against the mocker crushedhis neck-bones: as a slaughtered bullock falls—he tumbled to the ground.Then on the left.Cinyphian Pelates began to wrenchan oak plank from the door-post, but the spearof Corythus, the son of Marmarus,pinioned his right hand to the wooden post;and while he struggled Abas pierced his side.—He fell not to the floor, but dying hungsuspended from the door-post by his hand.And of the friends of Perseus, Melaneuswas slain, and Dorylas whose wealth was largein Nasamonian land. No other lord,as Dorylas, such vast estates possessed;no other owned so many heaps of corn.The missile steel stood fastened in his groin,obliquely fixed,—a fatal spot—and whenthe author of his wound, Halcyoneusthe Bactrian, beheld his victim thus,rolling his eyes and sobbing forth his soul,he railed; “Keep for yourself of all your landsas much as you can cover.” And he leftthe bleeding corpse.But Perseus in revengehurled after him a spear, which, in his need,he ripped out from the wound, yet warm, and struckthe boaster on the middle of his nose.The piercing steel, passed through his nose and neck,—remained projecting from the front and back.And while good fortune helped his hand, he slewClanis and Clytius, of one mother born,but with a different wound he slaughtered each:for, leveled by a mighty arm, his ashen speardrove through the thighs of Clytius, right and left,and Clanis bit the javelin with his teeth.And by his might, Mendesian Celadonand Atreus fell, his mother of the tribesof Palestine, his father was unknown.Aethion, also, who could well foreseethe things to come, but was at last deceivedby some false omen. And Thoactes fell,the armour-bearer of the king; and, next,the infamous Agyrtes who had slainhis father. These he slew; and though his strengthwas nearly spent, so many more remained:for now the multitude with one accordconspired to slaughter him. From every sidethe raging troops assailed the better cause.In vain the pious father and the bride,together with her mother, fill the hallswith lamentations; for the clash of arms,the groans of fallen heroes drown their cries.—Bellona in a sea of blood has drenchedtheir Household Gods, polluted by these deeds,and she endeavours to renew the strife.Perseus, alone against that raging throng,is now surrounded by a myriad men,led on by Phineus; and their flying darts,as thick as wintry tail, are showered aroundon every side, grazing his eyes and ears.—Quickly he fixed his shoulder firm againstthe rock of a great pillar, which securedhis back from danger, and he faced his foes,and baffled their attack.Upon his leftChaonian Molpeus pressed, and on his righta Nabathe an called Ethemon pressed.—As when a tiger from a valley hearsthe lowing of two herds, in separate fields,though hunger urges he not knows on whichto spring, but rages equally for each;so, Perseus doubtful which may first attackhis left or right, knows not on which to turn,but stands attentive witness to the flightof Molpeus, whom he wounded in the leg.Nor could he choose—Ethemon, full of rage,pressed on him to inflict a fatal wound,deep in his neck; but with incautious forcestruck the stone pillar with his ringing swordand shattered the metal blade, close to the hilt;the flying fragment pierced its owner's neck,but not with mortal wound. In vain he pledfor mercy, stretching forth his helpless arms:perseus transfixed him with his glittering blade,Cyllenian.

But when he saw his strengthwas yielding to the multitude, he said,“Since you have forced disaster on yourselves,why should I hesitate to save myself?—O friends, avert your faces if ye standbefore me!” And he raised Medusa,s head.Thescelus answered him; “Seek other dupesto chase with wonders!” Just as he preparedto hurl the deadly javelin from his hand,he stood, unmoving in that attitude,a marble statue.Ampyx, close to him,exulting in a mighty spirit, madea lunge to pierce Lyncides in the breast;but, as his sword was flashing in the air,his right arm grew so rigid, there he stoodunable to draw back or thrust it forth.But Nileus, who had feigned himself begotby seven-fold Nile, and carved his shield with goldand silver streams, alternate seven, shouted;“Look, look! O Perseus, him from whom I sprung!And you shall carry to the silent shadesa mighty consolation in your death,that you were slain by such a one as I.”But in the midst of boasting, the last wordswere silenced; and his open mouth, althoughincapable of motion, seemed intentto utter speech.Then Eryx, chiding says;“Your craven spirits have benumbed you, notMedusa's poison.—Come with me and strikethis youthful mover of magician charmsdown to the ground.”—He started with a rush;the earth detained his steps; it held him fast;he could not speak; he stood, complete with arms,a statue.Such a penalty was theirs,and justly earned; but near by there was one,aconteus, who defending Perseus, sawmedusa as he fought; and at the sightthe soldier hardened to an upright stone.—Assured he was alive, Astyagesnow struck him with his long sword, but the bladeresounded with a ringing note; and there,astonished at the sound, Astyages,himself, assumed that nature; and remainedwith wonder pictured on his marble face.And not to weary with the names of men,sprung from the middle classes, there remainedtwo hundred warriors eager for the fight—as soon as they could see Medusa's face,two hundred warriors stiffened into stone.At last, repentant, Phineus dreads the war,unjust, for in a helpless fright he seesthe statues standing in strange attitudes;and, recognizing his adherents, callson each by name to rescue from that death.Still unbelieving he begins to touchthe bodies, nearest to himself, and allare hard stone.Having turned his eyes away,he stretched his hands and arms obliquely backto Perseus, and confessed his wicked deeds;and thus imploring spoke;“Remove, I pray,O Perseus, thou invincible, removefrom me that dreadful Gorgon: take awaythe stone-creating countenance of thyunspeakable Medusa! For we warrednot out of hatred, nor to gain a throne,but clashed our weapons for a woman's sake.—“Thy merit proved thy valid claim, and timegave argument for mine. It grieves me notto yield, O bravest, only give me life,and all the rest be thine.” Such words imploredthe craven, never daring to addresshis eyes to whom he spoke.And thus returnedthe valiant Perseus; “I will grant to you,O timid-hearted Phineus! as behovesyour conduct; and it should appear a gift,magnanimous, to one who fears to move.—Take courage, for no steel shall violateyour carcase; and, moreover, you shall bea monument, that ages may recordyour unforgotten name. You shall be seenthus always, in the palace where residesmy father-in-law, that my surrendered spousemay soften her great grief when she but seesthe darling image of her first betrothed.”He spoke, and moved Medusa to that sidewhere Phineus had turned his trembling face:and as he struggled to avert his gazehis neck grew stiff; the moisture of his eyeswas hardened into stone.—And since that dayhis timid face and coward eyes and hands,forever shall be guilty as in life.After such deeds, victorious Perseus turned,and sought the confines of his native land;together with his bride; which, having reached,he punished Proetus—who by force of armshad routed his own brother from the throneof Argos. By his aid Acrisius,although his undeserving parent, gainedhis citadels once more: for Proetus failed,with all his arms and towers unjustly held,to quell the grim-eyed monster, snake-begin.Yet not the valour of the youth, upheldby many labours, nor his grievous wrongshave softened you, O Polydectes! kingof Little Seriphus; but bitter hateungoverned, rankles in your hardened heart—there is no limit to your unjust rage.Even his praises are defamed by youand all your arguments are given to proveMedusa's death a fraud.—Perseus rejoined;“By this we give our true pledge of the truth,avert your eyes!” And by Medusa's facehe made the features of that impious kinga bloodless stone.

Through all these mighty deedsPallas, Minerva, had availed to guideher gold-begotten brother. Now she sped,surrounded in a cloud, from Seriphus,while Cynthus on the right, and Gyarusfar faded from her view. And where a path,high over the deep sea, leads the near way,she winged the air for Thebes, and Heliconhaunt of the Virgin Nine.High on that mountshe stayed her flight, and with these words bespokethose well-taught sisters; “Fame has given to methe knowledge of a new-made fountain—giftof Pegasus, that fleet steed, from the bloodof dread Medusa sprung—it opened whenhis hard hoof struck the ground.—It is the causethat brought me.—For my longing to have seenthis fount, miraculous and wonderful,grows not the less in that myself did seethe swift steed, nascent from maternal blood.”To which Urania thus; “Whatever the causethat brings thee to our habitation, thou,O goddess, art to us the greatest joy.And now, to answer thee, reports are true;this fountain is the work of Pegasus,”And having said these words, she gladly thenceconducted Pallas to the sacred streams.And Pallas, after she had long admiredthat fountain, flowing where the hoof had struck,turned round to view the groves of ancient trees;the grottoes and the grass bespangled, richwith flowers unnumbered—all so beautifulshe deemed the charm of that localitya fair surrounding for the studious daysof those Mnemonian Maids.But one of themaddressed her thus; “O thou whose valour gavethy mind to greater deeds! if thou hadst stoopedto us, Minerva, we had welcomed theemost worthy of our choir! Thy words are true;and well hast thou approved the joys of art,and this retreat. Most happy would we beif only we were safe; but wickednessadmits of no restraint, and everythingaffrights our virgin minds; and everywherethe dreadful Pyrenaeus haunts our sight;—scarcely have we recovered from the shock.“That savage, with his troops of Thrace. had seizedthe lands of Daulis and of Phocis, wherehe ruled in tyranny; and when we soughtthe Temples of Parnassus, he observedus on our way;—and knowing our estate,pretending to revere our sacred lives,he said; ‘O Muses, I beseech you pause!Choose now the shelter of my roof and shunthe heavy stars that teem with pouring rain;nor hesitate, for often the glorious Godshave entered humbler homes.’“Moved by his words,and by the growing storm, we gave assent,and entered his first house. But presentlythe storm abated, and the southern windwas conquered by the north; the black clouds fled,and soon the skies were clear.“At once we soughtto quit the house, but Pyrenaeus closedall means of exit,—and prepared to forceour virtue. Instantly we spread our wings,and so escaped; but on a lofty towerhe stood, as if to follow, and exclaimed;‘A path for you marks out a way for me.,and quite insane, he leaped down from the topof that high tower.—Falling on his face,the bones were crushed, and as his life ebbed outthe ground was crimsoned with his wicked blood.”So spoke the Muse. And now was heard the soundof pennons in the air, and voices, too,gave salutations from the lofty trees.Minerva, thinking they were human tongues,looked up in question whence the perfect words;but on the boughs, nine ugly magpies perched,those mockers of all sounds, which now complainedtheir hapless fate. And as she wondering stood,Urania, goddess of the Muse, rejoined;—“Look, those but lately worsted in disputeaugment the number of unnumbered birds.—Pierus was their father, very richin lands of Pella; and their mother (calledEvippe of Paeonia) when she broughtthem forth, nine times evoked, in labours nine,Lucina's aid.—Unduly puffed with pride,because it chanced their number equalled ours,these stupid sisters, hither to engagein wordy contest, fared through many towns;—through all Haemonia and Achaia cameto us, and said;—‘Oh, cease your empty songs,attuned to dulcet numbers, that deceivethe vulgar, untaught throng. If aught is yoursof confidence, O Thespian Deitiescontend with us: our number equals yours.We will not be defeated by your arts;nor shall your songs prevail.—Then, conquered, giveHyantean Aganippe; yield to usthe Medusean Fount;—and should we fail,we grant Emathia's plains, to where uprisePaeonia's peaks of snow.—Let chosen Nymphsaward the prize—.’ 'Twas shameful to contend;it seemed more shameful to submit. At once,the chosen Nymphs swore justice by their streams,and sat in judgment on their thrones of rock.“At once, although the lot had not been cast,the leading sister hastened to begin.—She chanted of celestial wars; she gavethe Giants false renown; she gave the Godssmall credit for great deeds.—She droned out, ‘Forth,those deepest realms of earth, Typhoeus came,and filled the Gods with fear. They turned their backsin flight to Egypt; and the wearied rout,where Great Nile spreads his seven-channeled mouth,were there received.—Thither the earth-begotTyphoeus hastened: but the Gods of Heavendeceptive shapes assumed.—Lo, Jupiter,(As Libyan Ammon's crooked horns attest)was hidden in the leader of a flock;Apollo in a crow; Bacchus in a goat;Diana in a cat; Venus in a fish;Saturnian Juno in a snow-white cow;Cyllenian Hermes in an Ibis' wings.’—Such stuff she droned out from her noisy mouth:and then they summoned us; but, haply, timepermits thee not, nor leisure thee permits,that thou shouldst hearken to our melodies.”“Nay doubt it not,” quoth Pallas, “but relateyour melodies in order.” And she satbeneath the pleasant shadows of the grove.And thus again Urania; “On our sidewe trusted all to one.” Which having said,Calliope arose. Her glorious hairwas bound with ivy. She attuned the chords,and chanted as she struck the sounding strings:—

“First Ceres broke with crooked plow the glebe;first gave to earth its fruit and wholesome food;first gave the laws;—all things of Ceres came;of her I sing; and oh, that I could tellher worth in verse; in verse her worth is due.“Because he dared to covet heavenly thronesTyphoeus, giant limbs are weighted downbeneath Sicilia's Isle—vast in extent—how often thence he strains and strives to rise?But his right hand Pachynus holds; his legs are pressedby Lilybaeus, Aetna weights his head.Beneath that ponderous mass Typhoeus lies,flat on his back; and spues the sands on high;and vomits flames from his ferocious mouth.He often strives to push the earth away,the cities and the mountains from his limbs—by which the lands are shaken. Even the king,that rules the silent shades is made to quake,for fear the earth may open and the ground,cleft in wide chasms, letting in the day,may terrify the trembling ghosts. Afraidof this disaster, that dark despot lefthis gloomy habitation; carried forthby soot-black horses, in his gloomy car.“He circumspectly viewed Sicilia's vastfoundations.—Having well explored and provedno part was shattered; having laid asidehis careful fears, he wandered in those parts.“Him, Venus, Erycina, in her mountthus witnessed, and embraced her winged son,and said, ‘O Cupid! thou who art my son—my arms, my hand, my strength; take up those arms,by which thou art victorious over all,and aim thy keenest arrow at the heartof that divinity whom fortune gavethe last award, what time the triple realm,by lot was portioned out.‘The Gods of Heavenare overcome by thee; and Jupiter,and all the Deities that swim the deep,and the great ruler of the Water-Gods:why, then, should Tartarus escape our sway—the third part of the universe at stake—by which thy mother's empire and thy ownmay be enlarged according to great need.‘How shameful is our present lot in Heaven,the powers of love and I alike despised;for, mark how Pallas has renounced my sway,besides Diana, javelin-hurler—sowill Ceres' daughter choose virginity,if we permit,—that way her hopes incline.Do thou this goddess Proserpine, unitein marriage to her uncle. Venus spoke;—“Cupid then loosed his quiver, and of allits many arrows, by his mother's aid,selected one; the keenest of them all;the least uncertain, surest from the string:and having fixed his knee against the bow,bent back the flexile horn.—The flying shaftstruck Pluto in the breast.“There is a lakeof greatest depth, not far from Henna's walls,long since called Pergus; and the songs of swans,that wake Cayster, rival not the notesof swans melodious on its gliding waves:a fringe of trees, encircling as a wreathits compassed waters, with a leafy veildenies the heat of noon; cool breezes blowbeneath the boughs; the humid ground is sprentwith purpling flowers, and spring eternal reigns.“While Proserpine once dallied in that grove,plucking white lilies and sweet violets,and while she heaped her basket, while she filledher bosom, in a pretty zeal to strivebeyond all others; she was seen, beloved,and carried off by Pluto—such the hasteof sudden love. “The goddess, in great fear,called on her mother and on all her friends;and, in her frenzy, as her robe was rent,down from the upper edge, her gathered flowersfell from her loosened tunic.—This mishap,so perfect was her childish innocence,increased her virgin grief.—“The ravisherurged on his chariot, and inspired his steeds;called each by name, and on their necks and manesshook the black-rusted reins. They hastened throughdeep lakes, and through the pools of Palici,which boiling upward from the ruptured earthsmell of strong sulphur. And they bore him thenceto where the sons of Bacchus, who had sailedfrom twin-sea Corinth, long ago had builta city's walls between unequal ports.

“Midway between the streams of Cyaneand Arethusa lies a moon-like pool,of silvered narrow horns. There stood the Nymph,revered above all others in that land,whose name was Cyane. From her that pondwas always called. And as she stood, concealedin middle waves that circled her white thighs,she recognized the God, and said; ‘O thoushalt go no further, Pluto, thou shalt notby force alone become the son-in-lawof Ceres. It is better to beseecha mother's aid than drag her child away!And this sustains my word, if I may thuscompare great things with small, Anapis lovedme also; but he wooed and married meby kind endearments; not by fear, as thouhast terrified this girl.’ So did she speak;and stretching out her arms on either sideopposed his way.“The son of Saturn blazedwith uncontrolled rage; and urged his steeds,and hurled his royal scepter in the pool.Cast with a mighty arm it pierced the deeps.The smitten earth made way to Tartarus;—it opened a wide basin and receivedthe plunging chariot in the midst.—But nowthe mournful Cyane began to grieve,because from her against her fountain-rightsthe goddess had been torn. The deepening woundstill rankled in her breast, and she dissolvedin many tears, and wasted in those waveswhich lately were submissive to her rule.“So you could see her members waste away:her hones begin to bend; her nails get soft;her azure hair, her fingers, legs and feet,and every slender part melt in the pool:so brief the time in which her tender limbswere changed to flowing waves; and after themher back and shoulders, and her sides and breastsdissolved and vanished into rivulets:and while she changed, the water slowly filledher faulty veins instead of living blood—and nothing that a hand could hold remained.“Now it befell when Proserpine was lost,her anxious mother sought through every landand every sea in vain. She rested not.Aurora, when she came with ruddy locks,might never know, nor even Hesperus,if she might deign to rest.—She lit two pinesfrom Aetna's flames and held one in each hand,and restless bore them through the frosty glooms:and when serene the day had dimmed the starsshe sought her daughter by the rising sun;and when the sun declined she rested not.“Wearied with labour she began to thirst,for all this while no streams had cooled her lips;when, as by chance, a cottage thatched with strawgladdened her sight. Thither the goddess went,and, after knocking at the humble door,waited until an ancient woman came;who, when she saw the goddess and had heardher plea for water, gave her a sweet drink,but lately brewed of parched barley-meal;and while the goddess quaffed this drink a boy,of bold and hard appearance, stood beforeand laughed and called her greedy. While he spokethe angry goddess sprinkled him with meal,mixed with the liquid which had not been drunk.“His face grew spotted where the mixture struck,and legs appeared where he had arms before,a tail was added to his changing trunk;and lest his former strength might cause great harm,all parts contracted till he measured lessthan common lizards. While the ancient damewondered and wept and strove for one caress,the reptile fled and sought a lurking place.—His very name describes him to the eye,a body starred with many coloured spots.“What lands, what oceans Ceres wandered then,would weary to relate. The bounded worldwas narrow for the search. Again she passedthrough Sicily; again observed all signs;and as she wandered came to Cyane,who strove to tell where Proserpine had gone,but since her change, had neither mouth nor tongue,and so was mute. And yet the Nymph made plainby certain signs what she desired to say:for on the surface of the waves she showeda well-known girdle Proserpine had lost,by chance had dropped it in that sacred pool;which when the goddess recognized, at last,convinced her daughter had been forced from her,she tore her streaming locks, and frenzied struckher bosom with her palms. And in her rage,although she wist not where her daughter was,she blamed all countries and cried out againsttheir base ingratitude; and she declaredthe world unworthy of the gift of corn:but Sicily before all other lands,for there was found the token of her loss.“For that she broke with savage hand the plows,which there had turned the soil, and full of wrathleveled in equal death the peasant and his ox—both tillers of the soil—and made decreethat land should prove deceptive to the seed,and rot all planted germs.—That fertile isle,so noted through the world, becomes a waste;the corn is blighted in the early blade;excessive heat, excessive rain destroys;the winds destroy, the constellations harm;the greedy birds devour the scattered seeds;thistles and tares and tough weeds choke the wheat.

“For this the Nymph, Alpheian, raised her headabove Elean waves; and having firstpushed back her dripping tresses from her brows,back to her ears, she thus began to speak;‘O mother of the virgin, sought throughoutthe globe! O mother of nutritious fruits!Let these tremendous labours have an end;do not increase the violence of thy wrathagainst the Earth, devoted to thy sway,and not deserving blame; for only forcecompelled the Earth to open for that wrong.Think not my supplication is to aidmy native country; hither I am comean alien: Pisa is my native land,and Elis gave me birth. Though I sojourna stranger in this isle of Sicilyit yet delights me more than all the world.‘I, Arethusa, claim this isle my home,and do implore thee keep my throne secure,O greatest of the Gods! A better hour,when thou art lightened of thy cares, will come,and when thy countenance again is kind;and then may I declare what cause removedme from my native place—and through the wavesof such a mighty ocean guided meto find Ortygia.‘Through the porous earthby deepest caverns, I uplift my headand see unwonted stars. Now it befell,as I was gliding far beneath the world,where flow dark Stygian streams, I sawthy Proserpine. Although her countenancebetrayed anxiety and grief, a queen She reignedsupremely great in that opacous worldqueen consort mighty to the King of Hell.’“Astonished and amazed, as thunderstruck,when Proserpina's mother heard these words,long while she stood till great bewildermentgave way to heavy grief. Then to the skies,ethereal, she mounted in her carand with beclouded face and streaming hairstood fronting Jove, opprobrious. ‘I have comeO Jupiter, a suppliant to thee,both for my own offspring as well as thine.If thy hard heart deny a mother grace,yet haply as a father thou canst feelsome pity for thy daughter; and I praythy care for her may not be valued lessbecause my groaning travail brought her forth.—My long-sought daughter has at last been found,if one can call it, found, when certain lossmore certain has been proved; or so may deemthe knowledge of her state.—But I may bearhis rude ways, if again he bring her back.‘Thy worthy child should not be forced to weda bandit-chief, nor should my daughter's charmsreward his crime.’ She spoke;—and Jupitertook up the word; ‘This daughter is a care,a sacred pledge to me as well as thee;but if it please us to acknowledge truth,this is a deed of love and injures not.And if, O goddess, thou wilt not oppose,such law-son cannot compass our disgrace:for though all else were wanting, naught can needJove's brother, who in fortune yields to nonesave me. But if thy fixed desire compeldissent, let Proserpine return to Heaven;however, subject to the binding law,if there her tongue have never tasted food—a sure condition, by the Fates decreed.’he spoke; but Ceres was no less resolvedto lead her daughter thence.“Not so the Fatespermit.—The virgin, thoughtless while she strayedamong the cultivated Stygian fields,had broken fast. While there she plucked the fruitby bending a pomegranate tree, and plucked,and chewed seven grains, picked from the pallid rind;and none had seen except Ascalaphus—him Orphne, famed of all Avernian Nymphs,had brought to birth in some infernal cave,days long ago, from Acheron's embrace—he saw it, and with cruel lips debarredyoung Proserpine's return. Heaving a sigh,the Queen of Erebus, indignant changedthat witness to an evil bird: she turnedhis head, with sprinkled Phlegethonian lymph,into a beak, and feathers, and great eyes;his head grew larger and his shape, deformed,was cased in tawny wings; his lengthened nailsbent inward;—and his sluggish armsas wings can hardly move. So he becamethe vilest bird; a messenger of grief;the lazy owl; sad omen to mankind.“The telltale's punishment was only just;O Siren Maids, but wherefore thus have yethe feet and plumes of birds, although remainyour virgin features? Is it from the daywhen Proserpina gathered vernal flowers;because ye mingled with her chosen friends?And after she was lost, in vain ye soughtthrough all the world; and wished for wings to waftyou over the great deep, that soon the seamight feel your great concern.—The Gods were kind:ye saw your limbs grow yellow, with a growthof sudden-sprouting feathers; but becauseyour melodies that gently charm the ear,besides the glory of your speech, might losethe blessing, of a tongue, your virgin faceand human voice remained.“But Jupiter,the mediator of these rival claims,urged by his brother and his grieving sister,divided the long year in equal parts.Now Proserpina, as a Deity,of equal merit, in two kingdoms reigns:—for six months with her mother she abides,and six months with her husband.—Both her mindand her appearance quickly were transformed;for she who seemed so sad in Pluto's eyes,now as a goddess beams in joyful smiles;so, when the sun obscured by watery mistconquers the clouds, it shines in splendour forth.

“And genial Ceres, full of joy, that nowher daughter was regained, began to speak;‘Declare the reason of thy wanderings,O Arethusa! tell me wherefore thouwert made a sacred stream.’ The waters gaveno sound; but soon that goddess raised her headfrom the deep springs; and after sue had driedher green hair with her hand, with fair addressshe told the ancient amours of that streamwhich flows through Elis.—‘I was one amongthe Nymphs of old Achaia,’—so she said—‘And none of them more eager sped than I,along the tangled pathways; and I fixedthe hunting-nets with zealous care.—AlthoughI strove not for the praise that beauty gives,and though my form was something stout for grace,it had the name of being beautiful.‘So worthless seemed the praise, I took no joyin my appearance—as a country lassI blushed at those endowments which would givedelight to others—even the power to pleaseseemed criminal.—And I remember whenreturning weary from Stymphal fan woods,and hot with toil, that made the glowing sunseem twice as hot, I chanced upon a stream,that flowed without a ripple or a soundso smoothly on, I hardly thought it moved.‘The water was so clear that one could seeand count the pebbles in the deepest parts,and silver willows and tall poplar trees,nourished by flowing waters, spread their shadeover the shelving banks. So I approached,and shrinkingly touched the cool stream with my feet;and then I ventured deeper to my knees;and not contented doffed my fleecy robes,and laid them on a bending willow tree.Then, naked, I plunged deeply in the stream,and while I smote the water with my hands,and drew it towards me, striking boldly forth,moving my body in a thousand ways,I thought I heard a most unusual sound,a murmuring noise beneath the middle stream.‘Alarmed, I hastened to the nearest bank,and as I stood upon its edge, these wordshoarsely Alpheus uttered from his waves;‘Oh, whither dost thou hasten?’ and again,‘Oh, whither dost thou hasten?’ said the voice.‘Just as I was, I fled without my clothes,for I had left them on the other bank;which, when he saw, so much the more inflamed,more swiftly he pursued: my nakednesswas tempting to his gaze. And thus I ran;and thus relentlessly he pressed my steps:so from the hawk the dove with trembling wings;and so, the hawk pursues the frightened dove.‘Swiftly and long I fled, with winding course,to Orchamenus, Psophis and Cyllene,and Maenalus and Erymanthus cold,and Elis. Neither could he gain by speed,although his greater strength must soon prevail,for I not longer could endure the strain.‘Still I sped onward through the fields and woods,by tangled wilds and over rocks and crags;and as I hastened from the setting sun,I thought I saw a growing shadow movebeyond my feet; it may have been my fearimagined it, but surely now I heardthe sound of footsteps: I could even feelhis breathing on the loose ends of my hair;and I was terrified. At last, worn outby all my efforts to escape, I cried;‘Oh, help me—thou whose bow and quivered dartsI oft have borne—thy armour-bearer calls—O chaste Diana help,—or I am lost.’‘It moved the goddess, and she gathered upa dense cloud, and encompassed me about.—The baffled River circled round and round,seeking to find me, hidden in that cloud—twice went the River round, and twice cried out,‘Ho, Arethusa! Arethusa, Ho!’‘What were my wretched feelings then? Could Ibe braver than the Iamb that hears the wolves,howling around the high-protecting fold?Or than the hare, which lurking in the bushknows of the snarling hounds and dares not move?And yet, Alpheus thence would not depart,for he could find no footprints of my flight.‘He watched the cloud and spot, and thus besieged,a cold sweat gathered on my trembling limbs.The clear-blue drops, distilled from every pore,made pools of water where I moved my feet,and dripping moisture trickled from my hair.—Much quicker than my story could be told,my body was dissolved to flowing streams.—But still the River recognized the waves,and for the love of me transformed his shapefrom human features to his proper streams,that so his waters might encompass mine.‘Diana, therefore, opened up the ground,in which I plunged, and thence through gloomy caveswas carried to Ortygia—blessed isle!To which my chosen goddess gave her name!Where first I rose amid the upper air!’“Thus Arethusa made an end of speech:and presently the fertile goddess yokedtwo dragons to her chariot: she curbedtheir mouths with bits: they bore her through the air,in her light car betwixt the earth and skies,to the Tritonian citadel, and toTriptolemus, to whom she furnished seed,that he might scatter it in wasted lands,and in the fallow fields; which, after longneglect, again were given to the plow.“After he had traveled through uncharted skies,over wide Europe and vast Asian lands,he lit upon the coast of Scythia, wherea king called Lyncus reigned. And there, at oncehe sought the palace of that king, who said;‘Whence come you, stranger, wherefore in this land?Come, tell to me your nation and your name.’“And after he was questioned thus, he said,‘I came from far-famed Athens and they callmy name Triptolemus. I neither cameby ship through waves, nor over the dry land;for me the yielding atmosphere makes way.—I bear the gifts of Ceres to your land,which scattered over your wide realm may yieldan ample harvest of nutritious food.’“The envious Lyncus, wishing to appearthe gracious author of all benefits,received the unsuspecting youth with smiles;but when he fell into a heavy sleepthat savage king attacked him with a sword—but while attempting to transfix his guest,the goddess Ceres changed him to a lynx:—and once again she sent her favoured youthto drive her sacred dragons through the clouds.“The greatest of our number ended thusher learned songs; and with concordant voicethe chosen Nymphs adjudged the Deities,on Helicon who dwell, should be proclaimedthe victors.“But the vanquished nine beganto scatter their abuse; to whom rejoinedthe goddess; ‘Since it seems a trifling thingthat you should suffer a deserved defeat,and you must add unmerited abuseto heighten your offence, and since by thisappears the end of our endurance, weshall certainly proceed to punish youaccording to the limit of our wrath.’“But these Emathian sisters laughed to scornour threatening words; and as they tried to speak,and made great clamour, and with shameless handsmade threatening gestures, suddenly stiff quillssprouted from out their finger-nails, and plumesspread over their stretched arms; and they could seethe mouth of each companion growing outinto a rigid beak.—And thus new birdswere added to the forest.—While they madecomplaint, these Magpies that defile our groves,moving their stretched-out arms, began to float,suspended in the air. And since that timetheir ancient eloquence, their screaming notes,their tiresome zeal of speech have all remained.”