HERMES.

Early in the morning, long ago, in a cave of the great Kyllenian hill, lay the new-born Hermes, the son of Zeus and Maia. The cradle-clothes were scarcely stirred by his soft breathing, while he slept as peacefully as the children of mortal mothers. But the sun had not driven his fiery chariot half over the heaven, when the babe arose from his sacred cradle and stepped forth from the dark cavern. Before the threshold a tortoise fed lazily on the gra.s.s; and when the child saw it he laughed merrily. "Ah! this is luck, indeed," he said; "whence hast thou come, pretty creature, with thy bright speckled sh.e.l.l? Thou art mine now, and I must take thee into my cave. It is better to be under shelter than out of doors; and though there may be some use in thee while thou livest, it will comfort thee to think that thou wilt sing sweetly when thou art dead." So the child Hermes took up his treasure in both arms, and carried it into the cavern. There he took an iron probe, and pierced out the life of the tortoise; and quick as thought, he drilled holes in its sh.e.l.l, and fixed in them reed-canes. Then across the sh.e.l.l he fastened a piece of ox-hide, and with seven sheep-gut cords he finished the making of his lyre.

Presently he struck it with the bow, and a wave of sweet music swelled out upon the air. Like the merry songs of youths and maidens, as they sport in village feasts, rose the song of the child Hermes; and his eyes laughed slyly as he sang of the loves of Zeus and Maia, and how he himself was born of the mighty race of the G.o.ds. Still he sang on, telling of all that he saw around him in the home of the nymph, his mother, but all the while, as he sang, his mind was pondering on other things; and when the song was ended, he went forth from the cave, like a thief in the night, on his wily errand.

The sun was hastening down the slope of heaven, with his chariot and horses to the slow-rolling stream of Ocean, as Hermes came to the shadowy hills of Pieria, where the cattle of the G.o.ds fed in their large pastures. There he took fifty from the herd, and made ready to drive them to the Kyllenian hill. But before him lay vast plains of sand; and, therefore, lest the track of the cattle should tell the tale of his thieving, he drove the beasts round about by crooked paths, until it seemed as though they had gone to the place from whence he had stolen them. He had taken good care that his own footsteps should not betray him, for with branches of tamarisk and myrtle, well twisted with their leaves, he hastily made sandals, and sped away from Pieria. One man alone saw him, a very old man, who was working in his vineyard on the sunny plain of Onchestos. To him Hermes went quickly, and said, "Old man, thou wilt have plenty of wine when these roots come all into bearing trim. Meanwhile keep a wise head on thy crumpled shoulders, and take heed not to remember more than may be convenient."

[Ill.u.s.tration: PLUTO AND HIS WIFE.]

Onwards, over dark hills, and through sounding dells, and across flowery plains, hastened the child Hermes, driving his flock before him. The night waxed and waned, and the moon had climbed to her watchtower in the heaven, when, in the flush of early morning, Hermes reached the banks of the great Alpheian stream. Then he turned his herd to feed on the gra.s.sy plain, while he gathered logs of wood, and, rubbing two sticks together, kindled the first flame that burned upon the earth where dwell the sons of men. The smoke went up to the heaven, and the flame crackled fiercely beneath it, as Hermes brought forth two of the herd, and, tumbling them on their back, pierced out the life of both. Their hides he placed on the hard rock; their flesh he cut up into twelve portions; and so Hermes hath the right of ordering all sacrifices which the children of men offer to the undying G.o.ds. But he ate not of the flesh or fat, although hunger sorely pressed him; and he burnt the bones in the fire, and tossed his tamarisk sandals into the swift stream of Alpheios. Then he quenched the fire, and with all his might trampled down the ashes, until the pale moon rose up again in the sky. So he sped on his way to Kyllene.

Neither G.o.d nor man saw him as he went, nor did the dogs bark. Early in the morning he reached his mother's cave, and darted through the keyhole of the door, softly as a summer breeze. Without a sound his little feet paced the stony floor, till he reached his cradle and lay down, playing like a babe among the clothes with his left hand, while the right held the tortoise-lyre hidden underneath them.

But, wily as he was, he could not cheat his mother. To his cradle she came, and said, "Whither hast thou wandered in the dark night? Crafty rogue, mischief will be thy ruin. The son of Leto will soon be here, and bear thee away bound in chains not easily shaken off. Out of my sight, little wretch, born to worry the blessed G.o.ds and plague the race of men!" "Mother," said Hermes, gently, "why talk thus to me, as though I were like mortal babes, a poor cowering thing, to cry for a little scolding? I know thy interest and mine: why should we stay here in this wretched cave, with never a gift nor a feast to cheer our hearts? I shall not stay. It is pleasanter to banquet with the G.o.ds than to dwell in a cavern in draughts of whistling wind. I shall try my luck against Apollo, for I mean to be his peer; and if he will not suffer me, and if Zeus, my father, take not up my cause, I will see what I can do for myself, by going to the shrine of Pytho and stealing thence the tripods and caldrons, the iron vessels and glittering robes. If I may not have honor in Olympos, I can at least be the prince of thieves."

Meanwhile, as they talked together, Eos rose up from the deep ocean stream, and her tender light flushed across the sky, while Apollo hastened to Onchestos and the holy grove of Poseidon. There the old man was at work in his vineyard, and to him Phbus went quickly, and said, "Friend hedger, I am come from Pieria looking for my cows. Fifty of them have been driven away, and the bull has been left behind with the four dogs who guarded them. Tell me, old man, hast thou seen any one with these cows, on the road?" But the old man said that it would be a hard matter to tell of all that he might chance to see. "Many travelers journey on this road, some with evil thoughts, some with good; I can not well remember all. This only I know, that yesterday, from the rising of the sun to its setting, I was digging in my vineyard, and I think, but I am not sure, that I saw a child with a herd of cattle. A babe he was, and he held a staff in his hand, and, as he went, he wandered strangely from the path on either side."

Then Phbus stayed not to hear more, for now he knew of a surety that the new-born son of Zeus had done him the mischief. Wrapped in a purple mist, he hastened to beautiful Pylos, and came on the track of the cattle. "O Zeus!" he cried, "this is indeed a marvel. I see the footprints of cattle, but they are marked as though the cattle were going to the asphodel meadow, not away from it. Of man or woman, of wolf, bear, or lion, I spy not a single trace. Only here and there I behold the footprints of some strange monster, who has left his mark at random on either side of the road." So on he sped to the woody heights of Kyllene, and stood on the doorstep of Maia's cave.

Straightway the child Hermes nestled under the cradle-clothes in fear, like a new-born babe asleep. But, seeing through all his craft, Phbus looked steadily through all the cave and opened three secret places full of the food and drink of the G.o.ds, and full also of gold and silver and raiment; but not a cow was in any of them. At last he fixed his eyes sternly on the child, and said, "Wily babe, where are my cows? If thou wilt not tell me, there will be strife between us; and then I will hurl thee down to the gloomy Tartaros, to the land of darkness, whence neither thy father nor thy mother can bring thee back, and where thy kingdom shall be only over the ghosts of men."

"Ah!" said Hermes, "these are dreadful words, indeed; but why dost thou chide me thus, or come here to look for cows? I have not seen or heard of them, nor has any one told me of them. I can not tell where they are, or get the reward, if any were promised, for discovering them. This is no work of mine; what do I care for but for sleeping and sucking, and playing with my cradle-clothes, and being washed in warm water? My friend, it will be much better that no one should hear of such a silly quarrel. The undying G.o.ds would laugh at the very thought of a little babe leaving its cradle to run after cows. I was born but yesterday. My feet are soft, and the ground is hard. But if it be any comfort to thee, I will swear by my father's head (and that is a very great oath) that I have not done this deed, nor seen any one else steal your cows, and that I do not know what cows are."

As he spoke he looked stealthily from one side to the other, while his eyes winked slyly, and he made a long soft whistling sound, as if the words of Phbus had amused him mightily. "Well, friend," said Apollo, with a smile, "thou wilt break into many a house, I see, and thy followers after thee; and thy fancy for beef will set many a herdsman grieving. But come down from the cradle, or this sleep will be thy last. Only this honor can I promise thee, to be called the prince of thieves forever." So without more ado Phbus caught up the babe in his arms; but Hermes gave so mighty a sneeze that he quickly let him fall, and Phbus said to him, gravely, "This is the sign that I shall find my cows; show me, then, the way." In great fear Hermes started up and pulled the cradle-clothes over his ears, as he said, "Cruel G.o.d, what dost thou seek to do with me? Why worry me thus about cows? I would there were not a cow in all the earth. I stole them not, nor have I seen any one steal the cows, whatever things cows may be. I know nothing but their name. But come; Zeus must decide the quarrel between us."

Thus each with his own purpose spake to the other, and their minds grew all the darker, for Phbus sought only to know where his cows might be, while Hermes strove only to cheat him. So they went quickly and sulkily on, the babe first, and Phbus following after him, till they came to the heights of Olympos and the home of the mighty Zeus.

There Zeus sat on the throne of judgment, and all the undying G.o.ds stood around him. Before them in the midst stood Phbus and the child Hermes, and Zeus said, "Thou hast brought a fine booty after thy hunt to-day, Phbus--a child of a day old. A fine matter is this to put before the G.o.ds."

"My father," said Apollo, quickly, "I have a tale to tell which will show that I am not the only plunderer. After a weary search I found this babe in the cave of Kyllene; and a thief he is such as I have never seen whether among G.o.ds or men. Yester eve he stole my cattle from the meadow, and drove them straight towards Pylos to the sh.o.r.e of the sounding sea. The tracks left were such that G.o.ds and men might well marvel at them. The footprints of the cows on the sand were as though they were going to my meadows, and not away from them; his own footmarks beggar all words, as if he had gone neither on his feet nor on his hands, and as if the oak tops had suddenly taken to walking. So was it on the sandy soil; and after this was pa.s.sed, there remained no marks at all. But an old man saw him driving them on the road to Pylos. There he shut up the cattle at his leisure, and, going to his mother's cave, lay down in his cradle like a spark in a ma.s.s of cinders, which an eagle could scarcely spy out. When I taxed him with the theft he boldly denied it, and told me that he had not seen the cows or heard naught of them, and could not get the reward if one were offered for restoring them."

So the words of Phbus were ended, and the child Hermes made obeisance to Zeus, the lord of all the G.o.ds, and said, "Father Zeus, I shall tell thee the truth, for I am a very truthful being, and I know not how to tell a lie. This morning, when the sun was but newly risen, Phbus came to my mother's cave, looking for cows. He brought no witnesses; but urged me by force to confess; he threatened to hurl me into the abyss of Tartaros. Yet he has all the strength of early manhood, while I, as he knows, was born but yesterday, and am not in the least like a cattle-reiver. Believe me (by thy love for me, thy child) that I have not brought these cows home, or pa.s.sed beyond my mother's threshold. This is strict truth. Nay, by Helios and the other G.o.ds, I swear that I love thee and have respect for Phbus. Thou knowest that I am guiltless, and, if thou wilt, I will also swear it.

But, spite of all his strength, I will avenge myself some day on Phbus for his unkindness; and then help thou the weaker."

So spake Hermes, winking his eyes and holding the clothes to his shoulders; and Zeus laughed aloud at the wiliness of the babe, and bade Phbus and the child be friends. Then he bowed his head and charged Hermes to show the spot where he had hidden the cattle, and the child obeyed, for none may despise that sign and live. To Pylos they hastened and to the broad stream of Alpheios, and from the fold Hermes drove forth the cattle. But as he stood apart, Apollo beheld the hides flung on the rock, and he asked Hermes, "How wast thou able, cunning rogue, to flay two cows, thou a child but one day old? I fear thy might in time to come, and I can not let thee live." Again he seized the child, and bound him fast with willow bands; but the child tore them from his body like flax, so that Phbus marveled greatly. In vain Hermes sought a place wherein to hide himself, and great fear came upon him till he thought of his tortoise-lyre. With his bow he touched the strings, and the wave of song swelled out upon the air more full and sweet than ever. He sang of the undying G.o.ds and the dark earth, how it was made at the first, and how to each of the G.o.ds his own appointed portion was given, till the heart of Apollo was filled with a mighty longing, and he spake to Hermes, and said, "Cattle-reiver, wily rogue, thy song is worth fifty head of cattle.

We will settle our strife by and by. Meanwhile, tell me, was this wondrous gift of song born with thee, or hast thou it as a gift from any G.o.d or mortal man? Never on Olympos, from those who can not die, have I heard such strains as these. They who hear thee may have what they will, be it mirth, or love, or sleep. Great is thy power, and great shall be thy renown, and by my cornel staff I swear that I will not stand in the way of thy honor or deceive thee in anywise."

Then said Hermes, "I grudge thee not my skill, son of Leto, for I seek but thy friendship. Yet thy gifts from Zeus are great. Thou knowest his mind, thou canst declare his will, and reveal what is stored up in time to come for undying G.o.ds or mortal men. This knowledge I fain would have. But my power of song shall this day be thine. Take my lyre, the soother of the wearied, the sweet companion in hours of sorrow or of feasting. To those who come skilled in its language, it can discourse sweetly of all things, and drive away all thoughts that annoy and cares that vex the soul. To those who touch it, not knowing how to draw forth its speech, it will babble strange nonsense, and rave with uncertain moanings. But thy knowledge is born with thee, and so my lyre is thine. Wherefore now let us feed the herds together, and with our care they shall thrive and multiply. There is no more cause for anger."

So saying the babe held out the lyre, and Phbus Apollo took it. In his turn he gave to the child Hermes a glittering scourge, with charge over his flocks and herds. Then, touching the chords of the lyre, he filled the air with sweet music, and they both took their way to Olympos, and Zeus was glad at heart to see that the wrath of Apollo had pa.s.sed away. But Phbus dreaded yet the wiles of Hermes, and said, "I fear me much, child of Maia, that in time to come thou mayest steal both my harp and my bow, and take away my honor among men. Come now, and swear to me by the dark water of Styx that thou wilt never do me wrong." Then Hermes bowed his head, and swore never to steal anything from Apollo, and never to lay hands on his holy shrine; and Phbus swore that of all the undying G.o.ds there should be none so dear to him as Hermes. "And of this love," he said, "I will give thee a pledge. My golden rod shall guard thee, and teach thee all that Zeus may say to me for the well or ill-doing of G.o.ds or men. But the higher knowledge for which thou didst pray may not be thine; for that is hidden in the mind of Zeus, and I have sworn a great oath that none shall learn it from me. But the man who comes to me with true signs, I will never deceive; and he who puts trust in false omens and then comes to inquire at my shrine, shall be answered according to his folly, but his offering shall go into my treasure-house. Yet further, son of Maia, in the clefts of Parna.s.sos far away dwell the winged Thriai, who taught me long ago the secret things of times to come. Go thou, then, to the three sisters, and thus shalt thou test them. If they have eaten of the honeycomb before they speak, they will answer thee truly; but if they lack the sweet food of the G.o.ds, they will seek to lead astray those who come to them. These I give thee for thy counselors; only follow them warily; and have thou dominion over all flocks and herds, and over all living things that feed on the wide earth; and be thou the guide to lead the souls of mortal men to the dark kingdom of Hades."

So was the love of Apollo for Hermes made sure; and Hermes hath his place amongst all the deathless G.o.ds and dying men. Nevertheless, the sons of men have from him no great gain, for all night long he vexes them with his treacherous wiles.

THE SORROW OF DEMETER.

In the fields of Enna, in the happy Island of Sicily, the beautiful Persephone was playing with the girls who lived there with her. She was the daughter of the lady Demeter, and every one loved them both, for Demeter was good and kind to all, and no one could be more gentle and merry than Persephone. She and her companions were gathering flowers from the field, to make crowns for their long flowing hair.

They had picked many roses and lilies and hyacinths, which grew in cl.u.s.ters around them, when Persephone thought she saw a splendid flower far off; and away she ran, as fast as she could, to get it. It was a beautiful narcissus, with a hundred heads springing from one stem; and the perfume which came from its flowers gladdened the broad heaven above, and the earth and sea around it. Eagerly Persephone stretched out her hand to take this splendid prize, when the earth opened, and a chariot stood before her, drawn by four coal-black horses; and in the chariot there was a man with a dark and solemn face, which looked as though he could never smile, and as though he had never been happy. In a moment he got out of his chariot, seized Persephone round the waist, and put her on the seat by his side. Then he touched the horses with his whip, and they drew the chariot down into the great gulf, and the earth closed over them again.

Presently the girls who had been playing with Persephone came up to the place where the beautiful narcissus was growing; but they could not see her anywhere. And they said, "Here is the very flower which she ran to pick, and there is no place here where she can be hiding."

Still for a long time they searched through the fields of Enna; and when the evening was come they went home to tell the lady Demeter that they could not tell what had become of Persephone.

Very terrible was the sorrow of Demeter when she was told that her child was lost. She put a dark robe on her shoulders, and took a flaming torch in her hand, and went over land and sea to look for Persephone. But no one could tell her where she was gone. When ten days were pa.s.sed she met Hekate, and asked her about her child; but Hekate said, "I heard her voice, as she cried out when some one seized her; but I did not see it with my eyes, and so I know not where she is gone." Then she went to Helios, and said to him, "O Helios, tell me about my child. Thou seest everything on the earth, sitting in the bright sun." Then Helios said to Demeter, "I pity thee for thy great sorrow, and I will tell thee the truth. It is Hades who has taken away Persephone to be his wife in the dark and gloomy land which lies beneath the earth."

[Ill.u.s.tration: CERES. (_or Demeter, from Pompeii Wall Painting_)]

Then the rage of Demeter was more terrible than her sorrow had been; and she would not stay in the palace of Zeus, on the great Thessalian hill, because it was Zeus who had allowed Hades to take away Persephone. So she went down from Olympos, and wandered on a long way until she came to Eleusis, just as the sun was going down into his golden cup behind the dark blue hills. There Demeter sat down close to a fountain, where the water bubbled out from the green turf and fell into a clear basin, over which some dark olive trees spread their branches. Just then the daughters of Keleos, the king of Eleusis, came to the fountain with pitchers on their heads to draw water; and when they saw Demeter, they knew from her face that she must have some great grief; and they spoke kindly to her, and asked if they could do anything to help her. Then she told them how she had lost and was searching for her child; and they said, "Come home and live with us; and our father and mother will give you everything that you can want, and do all that they can to soothe your sorrow." So Demeter went down to the house of Keleos, and she stayed there for a whole year. And all this time, although the daughters of Keleos were very gentle and kind to her, she went on mourning and weeping for Persephone. She never laughed or smiled, and scarcely ever did she speak to any one, because of her great grief. And even the earth, and the things which grow on the earth, mourned for the sorrow which had come upon Demeter. There was no fruit upon the trees, no corn came up in the fields, and no flowers blossomed in the gardens. And Zeus looked down from his high Thessalian hill, and saw that everything must die unless he could soothe the grief and anger of Demeter. So he sent Hermes down to Hades, the dark and stern king, to bid him send Persephone to see her mother, Demeter. But before Hades let her go he gave her a pomegranate to eat, because he did not wish her to stay away from him always, and he knew that she must come back if she tasted but one of his pomegranate seeds. Then the great chariot was brought before the door of the palace, and Hermes touched with his whip the coal-black horses, and away they went as swiftly as the wind, until they came close to Eleusis. Then Hermes left Persephone, and the coal-black horses drew the chariot away again to the dark home of King Hades.

The sun was sinking down in the sky when Hermes left Persephone, and as she came near to the fountain she saw some one sitting near it in a long black robe, and she knew that it must be her mother who still wept and mourned for her child. And as Demeter heard the rustling of her dress, she lifted up her face, and Persephone stood before her.

Then the joy of Demeter was greater, as she clasped her daughter to her breast, than her grief and her sorrow had been. Again and again she held Persephone in her arms, and asked her about all that had happened to her. And she said, "Now that you are come back to me, I shall never let you go away again; Hades shall not have my child to live with him in his dreary kingdom," But Persephone said, "It may not be so, my mother; I can not stay with you always; for before Hermes brought me away to see you, Hades gave me a pomegranate, and I have eaten some of the seeds; and after tasting the seed I must go back to him again when six months have pa.s.sed by. And, indeed, I am not afraid to go, for although Hades never smiles or laughs, and everything in his palace is dark and gloomy, still he is very kind to me, and I think that he feels almost happy since I have been his wife. But do not be sorry, my mother, for he has promised to let me come up and stay with you for six months in every year, and the other six months I must spend with him in the land which lies beneath the earth."

So Demeter was comforted for her daughter Persephone, and the earth and all the things that grew in it felt that her anger and sorrow had pa.s.sed away. Once more the trees bore their fruits, the flowers spread out their sweet blossoms in the garden, and the golden corn waved like the sea under the soft summer breeze. So the six months pa.s.sed happily away, and then Hermes came with his coal-black horses to take Persephone to the dark land. And she said to her mother, "Do not weep much; the gloomy king whose wife I am is so kind to me that I can not be really unhappy, and in six months more he will let me come to you again." But still, whenever the time came round for Persephone to go back to Hades, Demeter thought of the happy days when her child was a merry girl playing with her companions and gathering the bright flowers in the beautiful plains of Enna.

THE SLEEP OF ENDYMION.

One beautiful evening, when the sun was sinking down in the West, Selene was wandering on the banks of the River Meander; and she thought that of all the places which she had ever seen there was none more lovely than the quiet valley through which that gentle river was flowing. On her right hand rose a hill, whose sides were covered with trees and flowers, where the vine clambered over the elm, and the purple grapes shone out from amongst the dark leaves. Then Selene asked some people who were pa.s.sing by to tell her the name of the hill, and they told her that it was called the hill of Latmos. On she went, under the tall trees, whose branches waved over her in the clear evening light, till at last she reached the top, and looked down on the valley which lay beneath her. Then Selene was indeed astonished, for she had never seen anything so beautiful before, even in a dream.

She had fancied that nothing could be more lovely than the vale of the Meander, and now she saw something far more beautiful than the rocks and stones and clear bright water of that winding river. It was a small valley, at the bottom of which a lake shone like silver in the light of the setting sun. All around it beautiful trees covered the sloping banks; and their long branches drooped down over the water.

Not a breath of wind was stirring the dark leaves--not a bird was flying in the air. Only the large green dragon-fly floated lazily on the lake, while the swan lay half asleep on the silvery waters. On one side, in the loveliest corner of the valley, there was a marble temple, whose pillars shone like the white snow; and, leading down to the lake, there were steps of marble, over which the palm trees spread their branches, and everywhere were cl.u.s.ters of all beautiful flowers, amongst which mosses, and ferns, and the green ivy were tangled. There was the white narcissus and the purple tulip--the dark hyacinth and the soft red rose. But more beautiful than all the trees and flowers, a man lay sleeping on the marble steps of the temple. It was Endymion, who lived in this quiet valley, where the storms never came, and where the dark rain-clouds never covered the sides of the mountain. There he lay in the still evening hour; and at first Selene thought that it could scarcely be a living man whom she saw, for he lay as still as if he were made of marble himself. And as she looked upon him, Selene drew in her breath for wonder; and she went gently down the valley till she came to the steps where Endymion lay asleep. Presently the sun sank behind the hill, and the rich glow of the evening made the silvery lake gleam like gold; and Endymion awoke and saw Selene standing near him. Then Selene said, "I am wandering over the earth; and I may not stay here. Come away, and I will show you larger lakes and more glorious valleys than these." But Endymion said, "Lady, I can not go. There may be lakes which are larger, and valleys more splendid than this, but I love this still and quiet place, where the storms never come, and the sky is never black with clouds. You must not ask me to leave the cool shade of these sleeping trees, and the myrtles and roses which twine under the tall elms, and these waters, where the swans rest in the hot hours of the day and the dragon-fly spreads his green and golden wings to the sun."

[Ill.u.s.tration: JUNO (_or Here_).]

Many times did Selene ask him, but Endymion would not leave his pleasant home; and at last she said, "I can stay no more, but if you will not come with me, then you shall sleep on these marble steps and never wake up again." So Selene left him, and presently a deep sleep came over Endymion, and his hands dropped down by his side, and he lay without moving on the steps of the temple, while the evening breeze began to stir gently the broad leaves of the palm trees, and the lilies which bowed their heads over the calm water. There he lay all through the still and happy night; and there he lay when the sun rose up from the sea, and mounted up with its fiery horses into the sky.

There was a charm now on this beautiful valley, which made the breeze more gentle and the lake more still than ever. The green dragon-flies came floating lazily in the air near Endymion, but he never opened his eyes; and the swans looked up from the lake, to see if he was coming to feed them; but he stirred not in his deep and dreamless sleep.

There he lay day and night, for weeks, and months, and years; and many times, when the sun went down into the sea, Selene came and stood on the Latmian hill, and watched Endymion as he lay asleep on the marble steps beneath the drooping palm trees; and she said, "I have punished him because he would not leave his home; and Endymion sleeps forever in the land of Latmos."

PHAETHON.

In the golden house which Hephaistos had wrought for him with his wondrous skill, Helios saw nothing fairer than his son Phaethon; and he said to his mother, Klymene, that no mortal child might be matched with him for beauty. And Phaethon heard the words, and his heart was filled with an evil pride. So he stood before the throne of Helios, and said, "O father, who dwellest in the dazzling light, they say that I am thy child; but how shall I know it while I live in thy house without name and glory? Give me a token, that men may know me to be thy son." Then Helios bade him speak, and swear to grant his prayer; and Phaethon said, "I will guide thy chariot for one day through the high heaven; bid the Horai make ready the horses for me, when Eos spreads her quivering light in the sky." But the heart of Helios was filled with fear, and he besought his son with many tears to call back his words. "O Phaethon, bright child of Klymene, for all thy beauty thou art mortal still; and the horses of Helios obey no earthly master." But Phaethon harkened not to his words, and hastened away to the dwelling of the Horai, who guard the fiery horses. "Make ready for me," he said, "the chariot of Helios, for this day I go through the high heaven in the stead of my father."

The fair-haired Eos spread her faint light in the pale sky, and Lampetie was driving the cattle of Helios to their bright pastures, when the Horai brought forth his horses and harnessed them to the fiery chariot. With eager hand Phaethon seized the reins, and the horses sped upon their way up the heights of the blue heaven, until the heart of Phaethon was full of fear and the reins quivered in his grasp. Wildly and more madly sped the steeds, till at last they hurried from the track which led to the Hesperian land. Down from their path they plunged, and drew near to the broad plains of earth.

Fiercer and fiercer flashed the scorching flames; the trees bowed down their withered heads; the green gra.s.s shriveled on the hillsides; the rivers vanished from their slimy beds, and the black vapors rose with smoke and fire from the hidden depths of the mighty hills. Then in every land the sons of men lay dying on the scorched and gaping ground. They looked up to the yellow sky, but the clouds came not; they sought the rivers and fountains, but no water glistened on their seething beds; and young and old, all lay down in madness of heart to sleep the sleep of death.

So sped the horses of Helios on their fiery wanderings, and Zeus looked down from his Thessalian hill and saw that all living things on the earth must die unless Phaethon should be smitten down from his father's chariot. Then the mighty thunders woke in the hot sky which mourned for the clouds that were dead; and the streams of lightning rushed forth upon Phaethon, and bore him from the blazing heaven far down beneath the waters of the green sea.

But his sisters wept sore for the death of the bright Phaethon, and the daughters of Hesperos built his tomb on the sea-sh.o.r.e, that all men might remember the name of the son of Helios and say, "Phaethon fell from his father's chariot, but he lost not his glory, for his heart was set upon great things."

BRIAREOS.

There was strife in the halls of Olympos, for Zeus had conquered the ancient G.o.ds, and sat on the throne of his father Kronos. In his hand he held the thunderbolts; the lightning slumbered at his feet, and around him all the G.o.ds trembled for the greatness of his power. For he laid hard tasks on all, and spoke hard words, and he thought to rule harshly over the G.o.ds who dwell on the earth and in the broad sea. All the day long Hermes toiled on weary errands to do his will; for Zeus sought to crush all alike, and remembered not the time when he, too, was weak and powerless.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DIANA (_or Artemis_).]

Then were there secret whisperings, as the G.o.ds of earth and sea took counsel together; and Poseidon, the lord of the dark waters, spoke in fierce anger, and said, "Hearken to me, Here and Athene, and let us rise up against Zeus, and teach him that he has not power over all.

See how he bears himself in his new majesty--how he thinks not of the aid which we gave him in the war with his father Kronos--how he has smitten down even the mightiest of his friends. For Prometheus, who gave fire to mortal men and saved them from biting cold and gnawing hunger, lies chained on the crags of Caucasus; and if he shrink not to bind the t.i.tan, see that he smite not thee also in his wrath, O lady Here." And Athene said, "The wisdom of Zeus is departed from him, and all his deeds are done now in craft and falsehood; let us bind him fast, lest all the heaven and earth be filled with strife and war." So they vowed a vow that they would no more bear the tyranny of Zeus; and Hephaistos forged strong chains at their bidding to cast around him when sleep lay heavy on his eyelids.

But Thetis heard the words of Poseidon and Athene, as she sat beneath the waters in her coral cave, and she rose up like a white mist from the sea, and knelt before the throne of Zeus. Then she clasped her arms round his knees, and said, "O Zeus, the G.o.ds tremble at thy might, but they love not thy hard words, and they say that thy wisdom hath departed from thee, and that thou doest all things in craft and falsehood. Hearken to me, O Zeus, for Hephaistos hath forged the chain and the lady Here, and Poseidon, the lord of the sea, and the pure Athene have vowed a vow to bind thee fast when sleep lies heavy on thine eyes. Let me therefore go, that I may bring Briareos to aid thee with his hundred hands, and when he sits by thy side, then shalt thou need no more to fear the wrath of Here and Poseidon. And when the peril is past, then, O Zeus, remember that thou must rule gently and justly, for that power shall not stand which fights with truth and love; and forget not those who aid thee, nor reward them as thou hast rewarded Prometheus on the crags of Caucasus, for it may be that, in time to come, I may ask a boon from thee for Achilleus, my child, who dwells now in the house of his father, Peleus; and when that hour shall come, then call to mind how in time past I saved thee from the chains of Hephaistos."

Then Zeus spoke gently, and said, "Hasten, Thetis, and bring hither the mighty Briareos, that he may guard me with his hundred hands, and fear not for the words that thou hast spoken, for Zeus will not cast aside good counsel, and the G.o.ds shall hate me no more for hard and unkindly words."