Now Lucifer unveiled the glorious day,and as the session of the night dissolved,the cool east wind declined, and vapors wreathedthe moistened valleys. Veering to the souththe welcome wind gave passage to the sonsof Aeacus, and wafted Cephaluson his returning way, propitious; wherebefore the wonted hour, they entered port.King Minos, while the fair wind moved their ship,was laying waste the land of Megara.He gathered a great army round the wallsbuilt by Alcathous, where reigned in splendorKing Nisus—mighty and renowned in war—upon the center of whose hoary heada lock of purple hair was growing.—Itsproved virtue gave protection to his throne.Six times the horns of rising Phoebe grew,and still the changing fortune of the warwas in suspense; so, Victory day by daybetween them hovered on uncertain wings.Within that city was a regal toweron tuneful walls; where once Apollo laidhis golden harp; and in the throbbing stonethe sounds remained. And there, in times of peacethe daughter of king Nisus loved to mountthe walls and strike the sounding stone with pebbles:so, when the war began, she often viewedthe dreadful contest from that height;until, so long the hostile camp remained,she had become acquainted with the names,and knew the habits, horses and the armsof many a chief, and could discern the signsof their Cydonean quivers.More than all,the features of King Minos were engravedupon the tablets of her mind. And whenhe wore his helmet, crested with gay plumes,she deemed it glorious; when he held his shieldshining with gold, no other seemed so grand;and when he poised to hurl the tough spear home,she praised his skill and strength; and when he benthis curving bow with arrow on the cord,she pictured him as Phoebus taking aim,—but when, arrayed in purple, and uponthe back of his white war horse, proudly deckedwith richly broidered housings, he reined inthe nervous steed, and took his helmet off,showing his fearless features, then the maid,daughter of Nisus, could control herselfno longer; and a frenzy seized her mind.She called the javelin happy which he touched,and blessed were the reins within his hand.She had an impulse to direct her steps,a tender virgin, through the hostile ranks,or cast her body from the topmost towersinto the Gnossian camp. She had a wilddesire to open to the enemythe heavy brass-bound gates, or anythingthat Minos could desire.And as she satbeholding the white tents, she cried, “Alas!Should I rejoice or grieve to see this war?I grieve that Minos is the enemyof her who loves him; but unless the warhad brought him, how could he be known to me?But should he take me for a hostage? Thatmight end the war—a pledge of peace, he mightkeep me for his companion.“O, supremeof mankind! she who bore you must have beenas beautiful as you are; ample causefor Jove to lose his heart.“O, happy hour!If moving upon wings through yielding air,I could alight within the hostile campin front of Minos, and declare to himmy name and passion!“Then would I implorewhat dowry he could wish, and would providewhatever he might ask, except alonethe city of my father. Perish allmy secret hopes before one act of mineshould offer treason to accomplish it.And yet, the kindness of a conquerorhas often proved a blessing, manifestto those who were defeated. Certainlythe war he carries on is justifiedby his slain son.“He is a mighty king,thrice strengthened in his cause. Undoubtedlywe shall be conquered, and, if such a fateawaits our city, why should he by forceinstead of my consuming love, prevailto open the strong gates? Without delayand dreadful slaughter, it is best for himto conquer and decide this savage war.“Ah, Minos, how I fear the bitter fateshould any warrior hurl his cruel spearand pierce you by mischance, for surely nonecan be so hardened to transfix your breastwith purpose known.”Oh, let her love prevailto open for his army the great gates.Only the thought of it, has filled her soul;she is determined to deliver upher country as a dowry with herself,and so decide the war! But what availsthis idle talk.“A guard surrounds the gates,my father keeps the keys, and he aloneis my obstruction, and the innocentaccount of my despair. Would to the GodsI had no father! Is not man the Godof his own fortune, though his idle prayersavail not to compel his destiny?“Another woman crazed with passionate desires,which now inflame me, would not hesitate,but with a fierce abandon would destroywhatever checked her passion. Who is therewith love to equal mine? I dare to gothrough flames and swords; but swords and flamesare not now needed, for I only needmy royal father's lock of purple hair.More precious than fine gold, it has a powerto give my heart all that it may desire.”

While Scylla said this, night that heals our carescame on, and she grew bolder in the dark.And now it is the late and silent hourwhen slumber takes possession of the breast.Outwearied with the cares of busy day;then as her father slept, with stealthy treadshe entered his abode, and there despoiled,and clipped his fatal lock of purple hair.Concealing in her bosom the sad prizeof crime degenerate, she at once went fortha gate unguarded, and with shameless hastesped through the hostile army to the tentof Minos, whom, astonished, she addressed:“Only my love has led me to this deed.The daughter of King Nisus, I am calledthe maiden Scylla. Unto you I comeand offer up a power that will prevailagainst my country, and I stipulateno recompense except yourself. Take thenthis purple hair, a token of my love.—Deem it not lightly as a lock of hairheld idly forth to you; it is in truthmy father's life.” And as she spokeshe held out in her guilty hand the prize,and begged him to accept it with her love.Shocked at the thought of such a heinous crime,Minos refused, and said, “O execrable thing!Despised abomination of our time!May all the Gods forever banish youfrom their wide universe, and may the earthand the deep ocean be denied to you!So great a monster shall not be allowedto desecrate the sacred Isle of Crete,where Jupiter was born.” So Minos spoke.Nevertheless he conquered Megara,(so aided by the damsel's wicked deed)and as a just and mighty king imposedhis own conditions on the vanquished land.He ordered his great fleet to tarry not;the hawsers were let loose, and the long oarsquickly propelled his brazen-pointed ships.—When Scylla saw them launching forth,observed them sailing on the mighty deep,she called with vain entreaties; but at last,aware the prince ignored her and refusedto recompense her wickedness, enraged,and raving, she held up her impious hands,her long hair streaming on the wind, — and said:“Oh, wherefore have you flown, and left behindthe author of your glory. Oh, wretch! wretchto whom I offered up my native land,and sacrificed my father! Where have younow flown, ungrateful man whose victoryis both my crime and virtue? And the giftpresented to you, and my passion,have these not moved you? All my love and hopein you alone!“Forsaken by my prince,shall I return to my defeated land?If never ruined it would shut its wallsagainst me.—Shall I seek my father's facewhom I delivered to all-conquering arms?My fellow-citizens despise my name;my friends and neighbors hate me; I have shutthe world against me, only in the hopethat Crete would surely welcome me;—and now,he has forbidden me.“And is it soI am requited by this thankless wretch!Europa could not be your mother! Spawnof cruel Syrtis! Savage cub of fierceArmenian tigress;—or Charybdis, tossedby the wild South-wind begot you! Can you bethe son of Jupiter? Your mother wasnot ever tricked by the false semblanceof a bull. All that story of your birthis false! You are the offspring of a bullas fierce as you are!“Let your vengeance fallupon me, O my father Nisus, letthe ruined city I betrayed rejoiceat my misfortunes—richly merited—destroy me, you whom I have ruined;—Ishould perish for my crimes! But why should you,who conquered by my crime, abandon me?The treason to my father and my landbecomes an act of kindness in your cause.“That woman is a worthy mate for youwho hid in wood deceived the raging bull,and bore to him the infamy of Crete.I do not wonder that Pasiphaepreferred the bull to you, more savage thanthe wildest beast. Alas, alas for me!“Do my complaints reach your unwilling ears?Or do the same winds waft away my wordsthat blow upon your ships, ungrateful man?—Ah, wretched that I am, he takes delightin hastening from me. The deep waves resoundas smitten by the oars, his ship departs;and I am lost and even my native landis fading from his sight.“Oh heart of flint!you shall not prosper in your cruelty,and you shall not forget my sacrifice;in spite of everything I follow you!I'll grasp the curving stern of your swift ship,and I will follow through unending seas.”And as she spoke, she leaped into the waves,and followed the receding ships—for strengthfrom passion came to her. And soon she clungunwelcome, to the sailing Gnossian ship.Meanwhile, the Gods had changed her father's formand now he hovered over the salt deep,a hawk with tawny wings. So when he sawhis daughter clinging to the hostile shiphe would have torn her with his rending beak;—he darted towards her through the yielding air.In terror she let go, but as she fellthe light air held her from the ocean spray;her feather-weight supported by the breeze;she spread her wings, and changed into a bird.They called her “Ciris” when she cut the wind,and “Ciris”—cut-the-lock—remains her name.

King Minos, when he reached the land of Creteand left his ships, remembered he had madea vow to Jupiter, and offered upa hundred bulls.—The splendid spoils of waradorned his palace.—Now the infamousreproach of Crete had grown, till it exposedthe double-natured shame. So, Minos, movedto cover his disgrace, resolved to hidethe monster in a prison, and he builtwith intricate design, by Daedaluscontrived, an architect of wonderfulability, and famous. This he plannedof mazey wanderings that deceived the eyes,and labyrinthic passages involved. so sports the clear Maeander, in the fieldsof Phrygia winding doubtful; back and forthit meets itself, until the wandering streamfatigued, impedes its wearied waters' flow;from source to sea, from sea to source involved.So Daedalus contrived innumerous paths,and windings vague, so intricate that he,the architect, hardly could retrace his steps.In this the Minotaur was long concealed,and there devoured Athenian victims sentthree seasons, nine years each, till Theseus, sonof Aegeus, slew him and retraced his way,finding the path by Ariadne's thread.Without delay the victor fled from Crete,together with the loving maid, and sailedfor Dia Isle of Naxos, where he leftthe maid forlorn, abandoned. Her, in time,lamenting and deserted, Bacchus foundand for his love immortalized her name.He set in the dark heavens the bright crownthat rested on her brows. Through the soft airit whirled, while all the sparkling jewels changedto flashing fires, assuming in the skybetween the Serpent-holder and the Kneelerthe well-known shape of Ariadne's Crown.

But Daedalus abhorred the Isle of Crete—and his long exile on that sea-girt shore,increased the love of his own native place.“Though Minos blocks escape by sea and land.”He said, “The unconfined skies remainthough Minos may be lord of all the worldhis sceptre is not regnant of the air,and by that untried way is our escape.”This said, he turned his mind to arts unknownand nature unrevealed. He fashioned quillsand feathers in due order — deftly formedfrom small to large, as any rustic pipeprom straws unequal slants. He bound with threadthe middle feathers, and the lower fixedwith pliant wax; till so, in gentle curvesarranged, he bent them to the shape of birds.While he was working, his son Icarus,with smiling countenance and unawareof danger to himself, perchance would chasethe feathers, ruffled by the shifting breeze,or soften with his thumb the yellow wax,and by his playfulness retard the workhis anxious father planned.But when at lastthe father finished it, he poised himself,and lightly floating in the winnowed airwaved his great feathered wings with bird-like ease.And, likewise he had fashioned for his sonsuch wings; before they ventured in the airhe said, “My son, I caution you to keepthe middle way, for if your pinions diptoo low the waters may impede your flight;and if they soar too high the sun may scorch them.Fly midway. Gaze not at the boundless sky,far Ursa Major and Bootes next.Nor on Orion with his flashing brand,but follow my safe guidance.”As he spokehe fitted on his son the plumed wingswith trembling hands, while down his withered cheeksthe tears were falling. Then he gave his sona last kiss, and upon his gliding wingsassumed a careful lead solicitous.As when the bird leads forth her tender young,from high-swung nest to try the yielding air;so he prevailed on willing Icarus;encouraged and instructed him in a]lthe fatal art; and as he waved his wingslooked backward on his son.Beneath their flight,the fisherman while casting his long rod,or the tired shepherd leaning on his crook,or the rough plowman as he raised his eyes,astonished might observe them on the wing,and worship them as Gods.Upon the leftthey passed by Samos, Juno's sacred isle;Delos and Paros too, were left behind;and on the right Lebinthus and Calymne,fruitful in honey. Proud of his success,the foolish Icarus forsook his guide,and, bold in vanity, began to soar,rising upon his wings to touch the skies;but as he neared the scorching sun, its heatsoftened the fragrant wax that held his plumes;and heat increasing melted the soft wax—he waved his naked arms instead of wings,with no more feathers to sustain his flight.And as he called upon his father's namehis voice was smothered in the dark blue sea,now called Icarian from the dead boy's name.The unlucky father, not a father, called,“Where are you, Icarus?” and “Where are you?In what place shall I seek you, Icarus?”He called again; and then he saw the wingsof his dear Icarus, floating on the waves;and he began to rail and curse his art.He found the body on an island shore,now called Icaria, and at once preparedto bury the unfortunate remains;but while he labored a pert partridge near,observed him from the covert of an oak,and whistled his unnatural delight.Know you the cause? 'Twas then a single bird,the first one of its kind. 'Twas never seenbefore the sister of Daedalus had broughthim Perdix, her dear son, to be his pupil.And as the years went by the gifted youthbegan to rival his instructor's art.He took the jagged backbone of a fish,and with it as a model made a saw,with sharp teeth fashioned from a strip of iron.And he was first to make two arms of iron,smooth hinged upon the center, so that onewould make a pivot while the other, turned,described a circle. Wherefore Daedalusenraged and envious, sought to slay the youthand cast him headlong from Minerva's fane,—then spread the rumor of an accident.But Pallas, goddess of ingenious men,saving the pupil changed him to a bird,and in the middle of the air he flewon feathered wings; and so his active mind—and vigor of his genius were absorbedinto his wings and feet; although the nameof Perdix was retained.The Partridge hidesin shaded places by the leafy treesits nested eggs among the bush's twigs;nor does it seek to rise in lofty flight,for it is mindful of its former fall.

Wearied with travel Daedalus arrivedat Sicily,—where Cocalus was king;and when the wandering Daedalus imploredthe monarch's kind protection from his foe,he gathered a great army for his guest,and gained renown from an applauding world.Now after Theseus had destroyed in Cretethe dreadful monster, Athens then had ceasedto pay her mournful tribute; and with wreathsher people decked the temples of the Gods;and they invoked Minerva, Jupiter,and many other Gods whom they adored,with sacrifice and precious offerings,and jars of Frankincense.Quick-flying Famehad spread reports of Theseus through the land;and all the peoples of Achaia, from that day,when danger threatened would entreat his aid.So it befell, the land of Calydon,through Meleager and her native hero,implored the valiant Theseus to destroya raging boar, the ravage of her realm.Diana in her wrath had sent the boarto wreak her vengeance; and they say the causewas this:—The nation had a fruitful year,for which the good king Oeneus had decreedthat all should offer the first fruits of cornto Ceres—and to Bacchus wine of grapes—and oil of olives to the golden hairedMinerva. Thus, the Gods were all adored,beginning with the lowest to the highest,except alone Diana, and of all the Godsher altars only were neglected. Nofrankincense unto her was given! Neglectenrages even Deities.“Am Ito suffer this indignity?” she cried,“Though I am thus dishonored, I will notbe unrevenged!” And so the boar was sentto ravage the fair land of Calydon.And this avenging boar was quite as largeas bulls now feeding on the green Epirus,and larger than the bulls of Sicily.A dreadful boar.—His burning, bloodshot eyesseemed coals of living fire, and his rough neckwas knotted with stiff muscles, and thick-setwith bristles like sharp spikes. A seething frothdripped on his shoulders, and his tuskswere like the spoils of Ind. Discordant roarsreverberated from his hideous jaws;and lightning—belched forth from his horrid throat—scorched the green fields. He trampled the green cornand doomed the farmer to lament his crops,in vain the threshing-floor has been prepared,in vain the barns await the promised yield.Long branches of the vine and heavy grapesare scattered in confusion, and the fruitsand branches of the olive tree, whose leavesshould never wither, are cast on the ground.His spleen was vented on the simple flocks,which neither dogs nor shepherd could protect;and the brave bulls could not defend their herds.The people fled in all directions from the fields,for safety to the cities. Terror reigned.There seemed no remedy to save the land,till Meleager chose a band of youths,united for the glory of great deeds.What heroes shall immortal song proclaim?Castor and Pollux, twins of Tyndarus;one famous for his skill in horsemanship,the other for his boxing. Jason, too, was there,the glorious builder of the world's first ship,and Theseus with his friend Perithous,and Toxeus and Plexippus, fated sonsof Thestius, and the son of Aphareus,Lynkeus with his fleet-foot brother Idasand Caeneus, first a woman then a manthe brave Leucippus and the argonautAcastus, swift of dart; and warlike Dryas,Hippothous and Phoenix, not then blind,the son of King Amyntor, and the twainwho sprung from Actor, Phyleus thither broughtfrom Elis; Telamon was one of themand even Peleus, father of the greatAchilles; and the son of Pheres joined,and Iolas, the swift Eurytion,Echion fleet of foot, Narycian Lelex—and Panopeus, and Hyleus and Hippasus,and Nestor (youthful then), and the four sonsHippocoon from eld Amyclae sent,the father-in-law of queen Penelope,Ancaeus of Arcadia, and the wisesoothsayer Mopsus, and the prophet, sonof Oeclus, victim of a traitor-wife.—And Atalanta, virgin of the groves,of Mount Lycaeus, glory of her sex;a polished buckle fastened her attire;her lustrous hair was fashioned in a knot;her weapons rattled in an ivory case,swung from her white left shoulder, and she helda bow in her left hand. Her face appearedas maidenly for boy, or boyish for girl.When Meleager saw her, he at oncelonged for her beauty, though some god forbade.The fires of love flamed in him; and he said,“Happy the husband who shall win this girl!”Neither the time nor his own modestypermitted him to say another word.But now the dreadful contest with the boarengaged this hero's energy and thought.A wood, umbrageous, not impaired with age,slopes from a plain and shadows the wide fields,and there this band of valiant heroes went—eager to slay the dreaded enemy,some spread the nets and some let loose the dogs,some traced the wide spoor of the monster's hoofs.There is a deep gorge where the rivuletsthat gather from the rain, discharge themselves;and there the bending willow, the smooth sedge,the marsh-rush, ozier and tall tangled reedin wild profusion cover up the marsh.Aroused from this retreat the startled boar,as quick as lightning from the clashing cloudscrashed all the trees that cumbered his mad way.—The young men raised a shout, leveled their spears,and brandished their keen weapons; but the boarrushed onward through the yelping dogs,and scattered them with deadly sidelong stroke.Echion was the first to hurl his spear,but slanting in its course it only glanceda nearby maple tree, and next the spearof long-remembered Jason cut the air;so swiftly hurled it seemed it might transfixthe boar's back, but with over-force it spedbeyond the monster. Poising first his dart,the son of Ampyx, as he cast it, heimplored Apollo, “Grant my prayer if Ihave truly worshiped you, harken to meas always I adore you! Let my spearunerring strike its aim.” Apollo heard,and guided the swift spear, but as it spedDiana struck the iron head from the shaft,and the blunt wood fell harmless from his hide.Then was the monster's savage anger roused;as the bright lightning's flash his red eyes flamed;his breath was hot as fire. As when a stoneis aimed at walls or strong towers, which protectencompassed armies,—launched by the taut ropeit strikes with dreaded impact; so the boarwith fatal onset rushed among this bandof noble lads, and stretched upon the groundEupalamon and Pelagon whose guardwas on the right; and their companions boretheir bodies from the field.Another youth,the brave son of Hippocoon receiveda deadly wound—while turning to escape,the sinew of his thigh was cut and failedto bear his tottering steps.—

And Nestor mighthave perished then, so long before he foughtthe heroes of old Troy, but ever wise,he vaulted on his long lance from the groundinto the branches of a sheltering tree;where in a safe position, he could lookdown on his baffled foe. The raging boarwhetted his gleaming tushes on an oak.Then with his sharpened tusks he gored the thighof mighty Hippasus. Observed of all,and mounted on their horses—whiter thanthe northern snow—the twins (long afterwardtransformed to constellations) sallied forth,and brandishing their lances, poised in air,determined to destroy the bristling boar.It thwarted their design by hiding ina thicket intricate; where neither steednor lance could penetrate. But Telamonpursued undaunted, and in haste tripped upby tangled roots, fell headlong.—Peleus stoopedto rescue him.While he regained his feet,the virgin, Atalanta, took her bowand fitting a sharp arrow to the notch,twanged the tight cord. The feathered shaftquivered beneath the monster's ear, the red bloodstained his hard bristles.Flushed with her successrejoiced the maid, but not more gladly thanthe hero Meleager. He it waswho first observed the blood, and pointed outthe stain to his companions as he cried,“Give honor to the courage of a maid!”Unwilling to be worsted by a maid,the rushing heroes raised a mighty cryand as they shouted in excitement, hurledtheir weapons in confusion; and so greatthe multitude their actions interfered.Behold! Ancaeus wielding his war-axe,and rushing madly to his fate, exclaimed,“Witness it! See the weapons of a manexcel a woman's! Ho, make way for myachievement! Let Diana shield the brute!Despite her utmost effort my right handshall slaughter him!” So mighty in his boasthe puffed himself; and, lifting with both handshis double-edged axe, he stood erect,on tiptoe fiercely bold. The savage boarcaught him, and ripped his tushes through his groin,a spot where death is sure.—Ancaeus fell;and his torn entrails and his crimson bloodstained the fair verdure of the spot with death.Ixion's doughty son was running straightagainst the monster, shaking his long lancewith nervous vigor in his strong right hand;but Theseus, standing at a distance called:“Beware! beware, O, dearest of my friends;be valiant at a distance, or the fateof rashly-bold Ancaeus may be yours!”Even as he spoke he balanced in his handhis brazen-pointed lance of corner wood;with aim so true it seemed the great boar's deathwas certain, but an evergreen oak branchshielded the beast.—Then Jason hurled his dart,which turned by chance, transfixed a luckless dogand pinned him yelping, to the sanguine earth.—So fared those heroes. Better fortune gavesuccess to Meleager; first he threwa spear that missed and quivered in the ground;but next he hurled a spear with certain aim.It pierced the middle of the monster's back;and rushing in upon the dreaded beast,while raging it was whirling round and round,the fearless prince provoked to greater ragethe wounded adversary. Bloody frothdripped down his champing jaws—his purple bloodpoured from a rankling wound. Without delaythe mighty Meleager plunged a speardeep in the monster's shoulder. All his friendsraised a glad shout, and gathering round him, triedto grasp his hand.—With wonder they beheldthe monster's bulk stretched out upon the plain;and fearful still to touch him, they beganto stain their weapons in his spouting blood.At length the hero Meleager pressedhis conquering foot upon the monster's headand said, “O Atalanta, glorious maid,of Nonacris, to you is yielded spoil,my lawful right, and I rejoice to sharethe merit of this glorious victory.”And while he spoke, he gave to her the pelt,covered with horrid bristles, and the headfrightful with gory tusks: and she rejoicedin Meleager and his royal gift.But all the others, envious, beganto murmur; and the sons of Thestiuslevelled their pointed spears, and shouted out;“Give up the prize! Let not the confidenceof your great beauty be a snare to you!A woman should not interfering filchthe manly honors of a mighty hunt!Aside! and let your witless lover yield!”So threatened they and took from her the prize;and forcibly despoiled him of his rights.The warlike prince, indignant and enraged,—rowed with resentment, shouted out. “What! Ho!You spoilers of this honor that is ours,brave deeds are different far from craven threats!”And with his cruel sword he pierced the breastof rash Plexippus, taken unawares,and while his brother, Toxeus, struck with fear,stood hesitating whether to avengeor run to safety, Meleager plungedthe hot sword, smoking with a brother's blood,in his breast also. And so perished they.Ere this, Althaea, mother of the prince,and sister of the slaughtered twain,—becauseher son had killed the boar, made haste to bearrich offerings to the temples of the Gods;but when she saw her slaughtered brothers bornein sad procession, she began to shriek,and filled the city with her wild lament.Unwilling to abide her festal robesshe dressed in sable.—When she was informedher own son Meleager was the cause,she banished grief and lamentations,—thirsting for vengeance.

She remembered well,how, when she lay in childbirth round her stoodthe three attendant sisters of his fate.There was a billet in the room, and thisthey took and cast upon the wasting flames,and as they spun and drew the fatal threadsthey softly chanted, “Unto you we give,O child new-born! only the life of this;the period of this billet is your life.”And having spoken so, they vanished in the smoke.Althaea snatched the billet from the fire,and having quenched it with drawn water, hidit long and secretly in her own room,where, thus preserved, it acted as a charmto save the life of Meleager. Thisthe mother now brought forth, and fetched a pileof seasoned tinder ready for the torch.She lit the torches and the ready pile,and as the flames leaped up, four times preparedto cast the fatal billet in the midst;and four times hesitated to committhe dreadful deed,—so long the contest veeredbetween the feelings of a mother's breastand the fierce vengeance of a sister's rage.Now is the mother's visage pale with fear,and now the sister's sanguinary rageglows in her eyes. Her countenance contortswith cruel threats and in bewildered waysdissolves compassionate: And even whenthe heat of anger had dried up her eyesthe conflict of her passion brought new tears.As when the wind has seized upon a shipand blows against a tide of equal force,the vexed vessel feels repellent powers,and with unsteady motion sways to both;so did Althaea hesitate betweenthe conflict of her passions: when her ragehad cooled, her fury was as fast renewed:but always the unsatisfied desireof blood, to ease the disembodied shadesof her slain brothers, seemed to overcomethe mother-instinct; and intensityof conduct proved the utmost test of love.She took the billet in her arms and stoodbefore the leaping flames, and said, “Alas,be this the funeral pyre of my own flesh!”And as she held in her relentless handthe destiny of him she loved, and stoodbefore the flames, in all her wretchednessshe moaned, “You sad Eumenides attend!Relentless Gods of punishment,—turn, turnyour dreadful vision on these baneful rites!I am avenging and committing crime!With death must death be justified and crimebe added unto crime! Let funeralsupon succeeding funerals attend!“Let these accumulating woes destroya wicked race. Shall happy Oeneus baskin the great fame of his victorious son,and Thestius mourn without slaughtered ones?'Tis better they should both lament the deed!Witness the act of my affection, shadesof my departed brothers! and acceptmy funeral offering, given at a costbeyond my strength to bear. Ah wretched me!Distracted is my reason! Pity me,the yearnings of a stricken mother's heartwithholding me from duty! Aye, althoughhis punishment be just, my hands refusethe office of such vengeance. What, shall healive, victorious, flushed with his success,inherit the broad realms of Calydon,and you, my slaughtered brothers, unavenged,dissolved in ashes, float upon the air,unpalpitating phantoms? How can Iendure the thought of it? Oh let the wretchforever perish, and with him be lostthe hopes of his sad father, in the wreckof his distracted kingdom. Where are nowthe love and feelings of a mother; howcan I forget the bitter pangs enduredwhile twice times five the slow moon waxed and waned?“O had you perished in your infancyby those first fires, and I had suffered it!Your life was in my power! and now your deathis the result of wrongs which you have done—take now a just reward for what you did:return to me the life I gave and saved.When from the flames I snatched the fatal brand.Return that gift or take my wretched life,that I may hasten to my brothers' tomb.“What dreadful deed can satisfy the law,when I for love against my love am forced?For even as my brothers' wounds appearin visions dreadful to denounce my son,the love so nurtured in a mother's breastbreaks down the resolution! Wretched me!Such vengeance for my brothers overcomesfirst at your birth I gave it, and againthe yearning of a mother for her son!Let not my love denounce my vengeance!My soul may follow with its love the shadeof him I sacrifice, and following himmy shade and his and yours unite below.”She spoke and as she turned her face away,she threw the fatal billet on the fire,and as the flames devoured it, a strange groanwas heard to issue from the burning woodbut Meleager at a distance knowsof naught to wreck his hour of victory,until he feels the flame of burning woodscorching with secret fire his forfeit life.Yet with a mighty will, disdaining painhe grieves his bloodless and ignoble death.He calls Ancaeus happy for the woundsthat caused his death. With sighs and groans he calledhis aged father's name, and then the namesof brothers, sisters, and his wife—and last,they say he called upon his mother's name.His torment always with the fire increased,until, as little of the wood remained,—his pain diminished with the heat's decrease;and as the flames extinguished, so his lifeslowly ascended in the rising air.And all the mighty realm of Calydonwas filled with lamentations —young and oldthe common people and the nobles mourned;and all the wailing women tore their hairhis father threw his body on the ground,and as he covered his white hair and facewith ashy dust, bewailed his aged days.Althaea, maddened in her mother's grief,has punished herself with a ruthless hand;she pierced her heart with iron. —Oh! if some Godhad given a resounding harp, a voicean hundred-fold more mighty, and a soulenlarged with genius, I could never tellthe grief of his unhappy sisters.—They,regardless of all shame, beat on their breasts;before the body was consumed with fire,embraced it, and again embracing it,rained kisses on their loved one and the bier.And when the flames had burnt his shrinking formthey strained his gathered ashes to their breasts,and prostrate on the tomb kissed his dear name,cut only in the stone,—and bathed it with their tearsLatona's daughter, glutted with the woesinflicted on Parthaon's house, now gavetwo of the weeping sisters wide-spread wings,but Gorge and the spouse of Herculesnot so were changed. Latona stretched long wingsupon their arms, transformed their mouths to beaks,and sent them winging through the lucent air.

And Theseus, meantime, having done great deeds,was wending towards Tritonian Athen's towers,but Achelous, swollen with great rains,opposed his journey and delayed his steps.“O famous son of Athens, come to me,beneath my roof, and leave my rapid floods;for they are wont to bear enormous beams,and hurl up heavy stones to bar the way,—mighty with roaring, down the steep ravines.And I have seen the sheep-folds on my banksswept down the flood, together with the sheep;and in the current neither strength availedthe ox for safety, nor swift speed the horse.When rushed the melting snows from mountain peakshow many bodies of unwary menthis flood has overwhelmed in whirling waves!Rest safely then, until my river runswithin its usual bounds—till it containsits flowing waters in its proper banks.”and gladly answered Theseus, “I will makegood use of both your dwelling and advice.”And waiting not he entered a rude hut,of porous pumice and of rough stone built.The floor was damp and soft with springy moss,and rows of shells and murex arched the roof.And now Hyperion having measured quitetwo thirds of daylight, Theseus and his friendsreclined upon the couches.—On his rightIxion's son was placed, and on his leftthe gray-haired hero Lelex; and othersdeemed worthy by the Acarnanian-godwho was so joyful in his noble guests.Without delay the barefoot nimble Nymphsattending to the banquet, rich food brought;and after all were satisfied with meatand dainties delicate, the careful Nymphsremoved all traces of the feast, and serveddelicious wine in bowls embossed with gems.And after they had eaten, Theseus arose,and as he pointed with his finger, said,“Declare to me what name that island bears,or is it one or more than one I see?”To which the ready River-God replied:“It is not one we see but five are there,deceptive in the distance. And that youmay wonder less at what Diana did,those islands were five Naiads.—Long ago,ten bullocks for a sacrifice they slew;and when the joyous festival was given,ignoring me they bade all other Gods.Indignant at the slight, I swelled with rageas great as ever when my banks are full,—and so redoubled both in rage and flood,I ravished woods from woods, and fields from fields,and hurled into the sea the very soil,together with the Nymphs, who then at lastremembered their neglect. And soon my waves,united with the ocean streams, cut throughthe solid soil, and fashioned from the one,five islands you may see amid the waves,which men since then, have called Echinades.“But yet beyond you can observe how onemost beautiful of all is far withdrawn;and this which most delights me, marinershave Perimela named. She was so fairthat I deprived her of a precious wealth.And when Hippodamas, her father, knew,enraged he pushed her, heavy then with child,forth from a rock into the cruel sea,where she must perish,—but I rescued her;and as I bore her on my swimming tide,I called on Neptune, ruler of the deep,‘O Trident-wielder, you who are preferrednext to the god most mighty! who by lotobtained the empire of the flowing deep,to which all sacred rivers flow and end;come here, O Neptune, and with gracious willgrant my desire;—I injured her I save;—but if Hippodamas, her father, whenhe knew my love, had been both kind and just,if he had not been so unnatural,he would have pitied and forgiven her.Ah, Neptune, I beseech you, grant your powermay find a place of safety for this Nymph,abandoned to the deep waves by her sire.Or if that cannot be, let her whom Iembrace to show my love, let her becomea place of safety.’ Instantly to methe King of Ocean moved his mighty head,and all the deep waves quivered in response.“The Nymph, afraid, still struggled in the deep,and as she swam I touched her throbbing breast;and as I felt her bosom, trembling still,I thought her soft flesh was becoming hard;for even then, new earth enclosed her form;and as I prayed to Neptune, earth encasedher floating limbs;—and on her changing formthe heavy soil of that fair island grew.”

And at this point, the River said no more.This wonderful event astonished all;but one was there, Ixion's haughty son—a known despiser of the living Gods—who, laughing, scorned it as an idle tale.He made a jest of those who heard, and said,“A foolish fiction! Achelous, howcan such a tale be true? Do you believea god there is, in heaven so powerful,a god to give and take away a form—transform created shapes?Such impious wordsfound no response in those who heard him speak.Amazed he could so doubt known truth, beforethem all, uprose to vindicate the Godsthe hero Lelex, wise in length of days.“The glory of the living Gods,” he said,“Is not diminished, nor their power confined,and whatsoever they decree is done.“And I have this to tell, for all must knowthe evil of such words:—Upon the hillsof Phrygia I have seen two sacred trees,a lime-tree and an oak, so closely growntheir branches interlace. A low stone wallis built around to guard them from all harm.And that you may not doubt it, I declareagain, I saw the spot, for Pittheus therehad sent me to attend his father's court.“Near by those trees are stagnant pools and fens,where coots and cormorants delight to haunt;but it was not so always. Long ago'Twas visited by mighty Jupiter,together with his nimble-witted son,who first had laid aside his rod and Wings.“As weary travelers over all the landthey wandered, begging for their food and bed;and of a thousand houses, all the doorswere bolted and no word of kindness given—so wicked were the people of that land.At last, by chance, they stopped at a small house,whose humble roof was thatched with reeds and straw;—and here a kind old couple greeted them.“The good dame, Baucis, seemed about the ageof old Philemon, her devoted man;they had been married in their early youth,in that same cottage and had lived in it,and grown together to a good old age;contented with their lot because they knewtheir poverty, and felt no shame of it;they had no need of servants; the good pairwere masters of their home and served themselves;their own commands they easily obeyed.“Now when the two Gods, Jove and Mercury,had reached this cottage, and with bending neckshad entered the low door, the old man badethem rest their wearied limbs, and set a bench,on which his good wife, Baucis, threw a cloth;and then with kindly bustle she stirred upthe glowing embers on the hearth, and thenlaid tinder, leaves and bark; and bending downbreathed on them with her ancient breath untilthey kindled into flame. Then from the houseshe brought a store of faggots and small twigs,and broken branches, and above them swunga kettle, not too large for simple folk.And all this done, she stripped some cabbage leaves,which her good husband gathered for the meal.“Then with a two-pronged fork the man let downa rusty side of bacon from aloft,and cut a little portion from the chine;which had been cherished long. He softened itin boiling water. All the while they triedwith cheerful conversation to beguile,so none might notice a brief loss of time.“Swung on a peg they had a beechwood trough,which quickly with warm water filled, was usedfor comfortable washing. And they fixed,upon a willow couch, a cushion softof springy sedge, on which they neatly spreada well worn cloth preserved so many years;'Twas only used on rare and festive days;and even it was coarse and very old,though not unfit to match a willow couch!“Now as the Gods reclined, the good old dame,whose skirts were tucked up, moving carefully,for so she tottered with her many years,fetched a clean table for the ready meal—but one leg of the table was too short,and so she wedged it with a potsherd—somade firm, she cleanly scoured it with fresh mint.“And here is set the double-tinted fruitof chaste Minerva, and the tasty dishof corner, autumn-picked and pickled; thesewere served for relish; and the endive-green,and radishes surrounding a large potof curdled milk; and eggs not overdonebut gently turned in glowing embers—allserved up in earthen dishes. Then sweet wineserved up in clay, so costly! all embossed,and cups of beechwood smoothed with yellow wax.“So now they had short respite, till the firemight yield the heated course.“Again they servednew wine, but mellow; and a second course:sweet nuts, dried figs and wrinkled dates and plums,and apples fragrant, in wide baskets heaped;and, in a wreath of grapes from purple vines,concealed almost, a glistening honey-comb;and all these orchard dainties were enhancedby willing service and congenial smiles.“But while they served, the wine-bowl often drained,as often was replenished, though unfilled,and Baucis and Philemon, full of fear,as they observed the wine spontaneous well,increasing when it should diminish, raisedtheir hands in supplication, and imploredindulgence for their simple home and fare.And now, persuaded by this strange eventsuch visitors were deities unknown,this aged couple, anxious to bestowtheir most esteemed possession, hastilybegan to chase the only goose they had—the faithful guardian of their little home —which they would kill and offer to the Gods.But swift of wing, at last it wearied them,and fled for refuge to the smiling Gods.At once the deities forbade their zeal,and said, ‘A righteous punishment shall fallsevere upon this wicked neighborhood;but by the might of our divinity,no evil shall befall this humble home;but you must come, and follow as we climbthe summit of this mountain!’“Both obeyed,and leaning on their staves toiled up the steep.Not farther from the summit than the flightof one swift arrow from a hunter's how,they paused to view their little home once more;and as they turned their eyes, they saw the fieldsaround their own engulfed in a morass,although their own remained,—and while they weptbewailing the sad fate of many friends,and wondered at the change, they saw their home,so old and little for their simple need—put on new splendor, and as it increasedit changed into a temple of the gods.Where first the frame was fashioned of rude stakescolumns of marble glistened, and the thatchgleamed golden in the sun, and legends carved,adorned the doors. And al] the ground shone whitewith marble rich, and after this was done,the Son of Saturn said with gentle voice,‘Now tell us, good old man and you his wife,worthy and faithful, what is your desire?’“Philemon counselled with old Baucis first;and then discovered to the listening Godstheir hearts' desire, ‘We pray you let us havethe care of your new temple; and since wehave passed so many years in harmony,let us depart this life together— Letthe same hour take us both—I would not seethe tomb of my dear wife; and let me notbe destined to be buried by her hands!’“At once their wishes were fulfilled. So longas life was granted they were known to bethe temple's trusted keepers, and when agehad enervated them with many years,as they were standing, by some chance, beforethe sacred steps, and were relating allthese things as they had happened, Baucis sawPhilemon, her old husband, and he, too,saw Baucis, as their bodies put forth leaves;and while the tops of trees grew over them,above their faces, — they spoke each to each;as long as they could speak they said, ‘Farewell,farewell, my own’—and while they said farewell;new leaves and branches covered both at once.“The people of Tyana still point outtwo trees which grew there from a double trunk,two forms made into one. Old truthful men,who have no reason to deceive me, toldme truly all that I have told to you,and I have seen the votive wreaths hung fromthe branches of the hallowed double-tree.And one time, as I hung fresh garlands there,I said, ‘Those whom the Gods care for are Gods!And those who worshiped are now worshiped here.’”

He ceased, and this miraculous event,and he who told it, had astonished them.But Theseus above all. The hero askedto hear of other wonders wrought by Gods.The Calydonian River-God replied,and leaning on one elbow, said to him:“There are, O valiant hero, other thingswhose forms once-changed as these, have so remained,but there are some who take on many shapes,as you have, Proteus, dweller of the deep—the deep whose arms embrace the earth. For somehave seen you as a youth, then as a lion,a furious boar one time, a serpent next,so dreadful to the touch—and sometimes hornshave made you seem a bull—or now a stone,or now a tree, or now a slipping stream,or even—the foe of water—next a fire.”Now Erysichthon's daughter, Mestra, hadthat power of Proteus—she was called the wifeof deft Autolycus.—Her father spurnedthe majesty of all the Gods, and gaveno honor to their altars. It is saidhe violated with an impious axethe sacred grove of Ceres, and he cuther trees with iron. Long-standing in her grovethere grew an ancient oak tree, spread so wide,alone it seemed a standing forest; andits trunk and branches held memorials,as, fillets, tablets, garlands, witnessinghow many prayers the goddess Ceres granted.And underneath it laughing Dryads lovedto whirl in festal dances, hand in hand,encircling its enormous trunk, that thricefive ells might measure; and to such a heightit towered over all the trees around,as they were higher than the grass beneath.But Erysichthon, heedless of all things,ordered his slaves to fell the sacred oak,and as they hesitated, in a ragethe wretch snatched from the hand of one an axe,and said, “If this should be the only oakloved by the goddess of this very grove,or even were the goddess in this tree,I'll level to the ground its leafy head.”So boasted he, and while he swung on highhis axe to strike a slanting blow, the oakbeloved of Ceres, uttered a deep groanand shuddered. Instantly its dark green leavesturned pale, and all its acorns lost their green,and even its long branches drooped their arms.But when his impious hand had struck the trunk,and cut its bark, red blood poured from the wound,—as when a weighty sacrificial bullhas fallen at the altar, streaming bloodspouts from his stricken neck. All were amazed.And one of his attendants boldly triedto stay his cruel axe, and hindered him;but Erysichthon, fixing his stern eyesupon him, said, “Let this, then, be the priceof all your pious worship!” So he turnedthe poised axe from the tree, and clove his headsheer from his body, and again beganto chop the hard oak. From the heart of itthese words were uttered; “Covered by the barkof this oak tree I long have dwelt a Nymph,beloved of Ceres, and before my deathit has been granted me to prophesy,that I may die contented. Punishmentfor this vile deed stands waiting at your side.”No warning could avert his wicked arm.Much weakened by his countless blows, the tree,pulled down by straining ropes, gave way at lastand leveled with its weight uncounted treesthat grew around it. Terrified and shocked,the sister-dryads, grieving for the groveand what they lost, put on their sable robesand hastened unto Ceres, whom they prayed,might rightly punish Erysichthon's crime;—the lovely goddess granted their request,and by the gracious movement of her headshe shook the fruitful, cultivated fields,then heavy with the harvest; and she plannedan unexampled punishment deserved,and not beyond his miserable crimes—the grisly bane of famine; but becauseit is not in the scope of Destiny,that two such deities should ever meetas Ceres and gaunt Famine,—calling forthfrom mountain-wilds a rustic Oread,the goddess Ceres, said to her, “There isan ice-bound wilderness of barren soilin utmost Scythia, desolate and bareof trees and corn, where Torpid-Frost, White-Deathand Palsy and Gaunt-Famine, hold their haunts;go there now, and command that Famine flitfrom there; and let her gnawing-essence piercethe entrails of this sacrilegious wretch,and there be hidden—Let her vanquish meand overcome the utmost power of food.Heed not misgivings of the journey's length,for you will guide my dragon-bridled carthrough lofty ether.”

And she gave to herthe reins; and so the swiftly carried Nympharrived in Scythia. There, upon the toldof steepy Caucasus, when she had slippedtheir tight yoke from the dragons' harnessed necks,she searched for Famine in that granite land,and there she found her clutching at scant herbs,with nails and teeth. Beneath her shaggy hairher hollow eyes glared in her ghastly face,her lips were filthy and her throat was roughand blotched, and all her entrails could be seen,enclosed in nothing but her shriveled skin;her crooked loins were dry uncovered bones,and where her belly should be was a void;her flabby breast was flat against her spine;her lean, emaciated body madeher joints appear so large, her knobbled kneesseemed large knots, and her swollen ankle-bonesprotruded.When the Nymph, with keen sight, sawthe Famine-monster, fearing to draw nearshe cried aloud the mandate she had broughtfrom fruitful Ceres, and although the timehad been but brief, and Famine far away,such hunger seized the Nymph, she had to turnher dragon-steeds, and flee through yielding airand the high clouds;—at Thessaly she stopped.Grim Famine hastened to obey the willof Ceres, though their deeds are opposite,and rapidly through ether heights was borneto Erysichthon's home. When she arrivedat midnight, slumber was upon the wretch,and as she folded him in her two wings,she breathed her pestilential poison throughhis mouth and throat and breast, and spread the curseof utmost hunger in his aching veins.When all was done as Ceres had decreed,she left the fertile world for bleak abodes,and her accustomed caves. While this was donesweet Sleep with charming pinion soothed the mindof Erysichthon. In a dreamful feasthe worked his jaws in vain, and ground his teeth,and swallowed air as his imagined food;till wearied with the effort he awoketo hunger scorching as a fire, which burnedhis entrails and compelled his raging jaws,so he, demanding all the foods of seaand earth and air, raged of his hunger, whilethe tables groaned with heaps before him spread;he, banqueting, sought banquets for more food,and as he gorged he always wanted more.The food of cities and a nation failedto satisfy the cravings of one man.The more his stomach gets, the more it needs —even as the ocean takes the streams of earth,although it swallows up great rivers drawnfrom lands remote, it never can be fillednor satisfied. And as devouring fireits fuel refuses never, but consumesunnumbered beams of wood, and burns for morethe more 'tis fed, and from abundance gainsincreasing famine, so the raving jawsof wretched Erysichthon, ever cravedall food in him, was on]y cause of food,and what he ate made only room for more.And after Famine through his gluttonyat last had wasted his ancestral wealthhis raging hunger suffered no decline,and his insatiate gluttony increased.When all his wealth at last was eaten up,his daughter, worthy of a fate more kind,alone was left to him and her he sold.Descendant of a noble race, the girlrefusing to be purchased as a slave,then hastened to the near shore of the sea,and as she stretched her arms above the waves,implored kind Neptune with her tears, “Oh, youwho have deprived me of virginity,deliver me from such a master's power!”Although the master, seeking her, had seenher only at that moment, Neptune changedher quickly from a woman to a man,by giving her the features of a manand garments proper to a fisher-man:and there she stood. He even looked at herand cried out, “Hey, there! Expert of the rod!While you are casting forth the bit of brass,concealed so deftly in its tiny bait,—gods-willing! let the sea be smooth for you,and let the foolish fishes swimming up,never know danger till they snap the hook!Now tell me where is she, who only now,in tattered garment and wind-twisted hair,was standing on this shore—for I am sureI saw her standing on this shore, althoughno footstep shows her flight.”By this assuredthe favor of the god protected her;delighted to be questioned of herself,she said, “No matter who you are, excuse me.So busy have I been at catching fish,I have not had the time to move my eyesfrom this pool; and that you may be assuredI only tell the truth, may Neptune, Godof ocean witness it, I have not seen a manwhere I am standing on this shore—myselfexcepted—not a woman has stood here.”Her master could not doubt it, and deceivedretraced his footsteps from the sandy shore.As soon as he had disappeared, her formunchanged, was given back to her. But whenher father knew his daughter could transformher body and escape, he often soldher first to one and then another—allof whom she cheated— as a mare, bird,a cow, or as a stag she got away; and sobrought food, dishonestly, to ease his greed.And so he lived until the growing strengthof famine, gnawing at his vitals, hadconsumed all he could get by selling her:his anguish burned him with increasing heat.He gnawed his own flesh, and he tore his limbsand fed his body all he took from it. ah, why should I dwell on the wondrous deedsof others—Even I, O gathered youths,have such a power I can often changemy body till my limit has been reached.A while appearing in my real form,another moment coiled up as a snake,then as a monarch of the herd my strengthincreases in my horns—my strength increasedin my two horns when I had two—but nowmy forehead, as you see, has lost one horn.And having ended with such words,—he groaned.