BULFINCH'S MYTHOLOGY

THE AGE OF FABLE

THE AGE OF CHIVALRY

LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE

BY THOMAS BULFINCH

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME

[Editor's Note: The etext contains all three sections. ]

PUBLISHERS' PREFACE

No new edition of Bulfinch's classic work can be consideredcomplete without some notice of the American scholar to whose wideerudition and painstaking care it stands as a perpetual monument. "The Age of Fable" has come to be ranked with older books like"Pilgrim's Progress, " "Gulliver's Travels, " "The Arabian Nights, ""Robinson Crusoe, " and five or six other productions of world-widerenown as a work with which every one must claim some acquaintancebefore his education can be called really complete. Many readersof the present edition will probably recall coming in contact withthe work as children, and, it may be added, will no doubt discoverfrom a fresh perusal the source of numerous bits of knowledge thathave remained stored in their minds since those early years. Yetto the majority of this great circle of readers and students thename Bulfinch in itself has no significance. 

Thomas Bulfinch was a native of Boston, Mass. , where he was bornin 1796. His boyhood was spent in that city, and he prepared forcollege in the Boston schools. He finished his scholastic trainingat Harvard College, and after taking his degree was for a period ateacher in his home city. For a long time later in life he wasemployed as an accountant in the Boston Merchants' Bank. Hisleisure time he used for further pursuit of the classical studieswhich he had begun at Harvard, and his chief pleasure in life layin writing out the results of his reading, in simple, condensedform for young or busy readers. The plan he followed in this work, to give it the greatest possible usefulness, is set forth in theAuthor's Preface. 

"Age of Fable, " First Edition, 1855; "The Age of Chivalry, " 1858;"The Boy Inventor, " 1860; "Legends of Charlemagne, or Romance ofthe Middle Ages, " 1863; "Poetry of the Age of Fable, " 1863;"Oregon and Eldorado, or Romance of the Rivers, "1860. 

In this complete edition of his mythological and legendary lore"The Age of Fable, " "The Age of Chivalry, " and "Legends ofCharlemagne" are included. Scrupulous care has been taken tofollow the original text of Bulfinch, but attention should becalled to some additional sections which have been inserted to addto the rounded completeness of the work, and which the publishersbelieve would meet with the sanction of the author himself, as inno way intruding upon his original plan but simply carrying it outin more complete detail. The section on Northern Mythology hasbeen enlarged by a retelling of the epic of the "Nibelungen Lied, "together with a summary of Wagner's version of the legend in hisseries of music-dramas. Under the head of "Hero Myths of theBritish Race" have been included outlines of the stories ofBeowulf, Cuchulain, Hereward the Wake, and Robin Hood. Of theverse extracts which occur throughout the text, thirty or morehave been added from literature which has appeared sinceBulfinch's time, extracts that he would have been likely to quotehad he personally supervised the new edition. 

Finally, the index has been thoroughly overhauled and, indeed, remade. All the proper names in the work have been entered, withreferences to the pages where they occur, and a conciseexplanation or definition of each has been given. Thus what was amere list of names in the original has been enlarged into a smallclassical and mythological dictionary, which it is hoped willprove valuable for reference purposes not necessarily connectedwith "The Age of Fable. "

Acknowledgments are due the writings of Dr. Oliver Huckel forinformation on the point of Wagner's rendering of the Nibelungenlegend, and M. I. Ebbutt's authoritative volume on "Hero Myths andLegends of the British Race, " from which much of the informationconcerning the British heroes has been obtained

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

If no other knowledge deserves to be called useful but that whichhelps to enlarge our possessions or to raise our station insociety, then Mythology has no claim to the appellation. But ifthat which tends to make us happier and better can be calleduseful, then we claim that epithet for our subject. For Mythologyis the handmaid of literature; and literature is one of the bestallies of virtue and promoters of happiness. 

Without a knowledge of mythology much of the elegant literature ofour own language cannot be understood and appreciated. When Byroncalls Rome "the Niobe of nations, " or says of Venice, "She looks aSea-Cybele fresh from ocean, " he calls up to the mind of onefamiliar with our subject, illustrations more vivid and strikingthan the pencil could furnish, but which are lost to the readerignorant of mythology. Milton abounds in similar allusions. Theshort poem "Comus" contains more than thirty such, and the ode "Onthe Morning of the Nativity" half as many. Through "Paradise Lost"they are scattered profusely. This is one reason why we often hearpersons by no means illiterate say that they cannot enjoy Milton. But were these persons to add to their more solid acquirements theeasy learning of this little volume, much of the poetry of Miltonwhich has appeared to them "harsh and crabbed" would be found"musical as is Apollo's lute. " Our citations, taken from more thantwenty-five poets, from Spenser to Longfellow, will show howgeneral has been the practice of borrowing illustrations frommythology. 

The prose writers also avail themselves of the same source ofelegant and suggestive illustration. One can hardly take up anumber of the "Edinburgh" or "Quarterly Review" without meetingwith instances. In Macaulay's article on Milton there are twentysuch. 

But how is mythology to be taught to one who does not learn itthrough the medium of the languages of Greece and Rome? To devotestudy to a species of learning which relates wholly to falsemarvels and obsolete faiths is not to be expected of the generalreader in a practical age like this. The time even of the young isclaimed by so many sciences of facts and things that little can bespared for set treatises on a science of mere fancy. 

But may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be acquired byreading the ancient poets in translations? We reply, the field istoo extensive for a preparatory course; and these verytranslations require some previous knowledge of the subject tomake them intelligible. Let any one who doubts it read the firstpage of the "Aeneid, " and see what he can make of "the hatred ofJuno, " the "decree of the Parcae, " the "judgment of Paris, " andthe "honors of Ganymede, " without this knowledge. 

Shall we be told that answers to such queries may be found innotes, or by a reference to the Classical Dictionary? We reply, the interruption of one's reading by either process is so annoyingthat most readers prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehendedrather than submit to it. Moreover, such sources give us only thedry facts without any of the charm of the original narrative; andwhat is a poetical myth when stripped of its poetry? The story ofCeyx and Halcyone, which fills a chapter in our book, occupies buteight lines in the best (Smith's) Classical Dictionary; and so ofothers. 

Our work is an attempt to solve this problem, by telling thestories of mythology in such a manner as to make them a source ofamusement. We have endeavored to tell them correctly, according tothe ancient authorities, so that when the reader finds themreferred to he may not be at a loss to recognize the reference. Thus we hope to teach mythology not as a study, but as arelaxation from study; to give our work the charm of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a knowledge of an important branch ofeducation. The index at the end will adapt it to the purposes ofreference, and make it a Classical Dictionary for the parlor. 

Most of the classical legends in "Stories of Gods and Heroes" arederived from Ovid and Virgil. They are not literally translated, for, in the author's opinion, poetry translated into literal proseis very unattractive reading. Neither are they in verse, as wellfor other reasons as from a conviction that to translatefaithfully under all the embarrassments of rhyme and measure isimpossible. The attempt has been made to tell the stories inprose, preserving so much of the poetry as resides in the thoughtsand is separable from the language itself, and omitting thoseamplifications which are not suited to the altered form. 

The Northern mythological stories are copied with some abridgmentfrom Mallet's "Northern Antiquities. " These chapters, with thoseon Oriental and Egyptian mythology, seemed necessary to completethe subject, though it is believed these topics have not usuallybeen presented in the same volume with the classical fables. 

The poetical citations so freely introduced are expected to answerseveral valuable purposes. They will tend to fix in memory theleading fact of each story, they will help to the attainment of acorrect pronunciation of the proper names, and they will enrichthe memory with many gems of poetry, some of them such as are mostfrequently quoted or alluded to in reading and conversation. 

Having chosen mythology as connected with literature for ourprovince, we have endeavored to omit nothing which the reader ofelegant literature is likely to find occasion for. Such storiesand parts of stories as are offensive to pure taste and goodmorals are not given. But such stories are not often referred to, and if they occasionally should be, the English reader need feelno mortification in confessing his ignorance of them. 

Our work is not for the learned, nor for the theologian, nor forthe philosopher, but for the reader of English literature, ofeither sex, who wishes to comprehend the allusions so frequentlymade by public speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, andthose which occur in polite conversation. 

In the "Stories of Gods and Heroes" the compiler has endeavored toimpart the pleasures of classical learning to the English reader, by presenting the stories of Pagan mythology in a form adapted tomodern taste. In "King Arthur and His Knights" and "TheMabinogeon" the attempt has been made to treat in the same way thestories of the second "age of fable, " the age which witnessed thedawn of the several states of Modern Europe. 

It is believed that this presentation of a literature which heldunrivalled sway over the imaginations of our ancestors, for manycenturies, will not be without benefit to the reader, in additionto the amusement it may afford. The tales, though not to betrusted for their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures ofmanners; and it is beginning to be held that the manners and modesof thinking of an age are a more important part of its historythan the conflicts of its peoples, generally leading to no result. Besides this, the literature of romance is a treasure-house ofpoetical material, to which modern poets frequently resort. TheItalian poets, Dante and Ariosto, the English, Spenser, Scott, andTennyson, and our own Longfellow and Lowell, are examples of this. 

These legends are so connected with each other, so consistentlyadapted to a group of characters strongly individualized inArthur, Launcelot, and their compeers, and so lighted up by thefires of imagination and invention, that they seem as well adaptedto the poet's purpose as the legends of the Greek and Romanmythology. And if every well-educated young person is expected toknow the story of the Golden Fleece, why is the quest of theSangreal less worthy of his acquaintance? Or if an allusion to theshield of Achilles ought not to pass unapprehended, why should oneto Excalibar, the famous sword of Arthur?--

 "Of Arthur, who, to upper light restored, With that terrific sword, Which yet he brandishes for future war, Shall lift his country's fame above the polar star. "

[Footnote: Wordsworth]

It is an additional recommendation of our subject, that it tendsto cherish in our minds the idea of the source from which wesprung. We are entitled to our full share in the glories andrecollections of the land of our forefathers, down to the time ofcolonization thence. The associations which spring from thissource must be fruitful of good influences; among which not theleast valuable is the increased enjoyment which such associationsafford to the American traveller when he visits England, and setshis foot upon any of her renowned localities. 

The legends of Charlemagne and his peers are necessary to completethe subject. 

In an age when intellectual darkness enveloped Western Europe, aconstellation of brilliant writers arose in Italy. Of these, Pulci(born in 1432), Boiardo (1434), and Ariosto (1474) took for theirsubjects the romantic fables which had for many ages beentransmitted in the lays of bards and the legends of monkishchroniclers. These fables they arranged in order, adorned with theembellishments of fancy, amplified from their own invention, andstamped with immortality. It may safely be asserted that as longas civilization shall endure these productions will retain theirplace among the most cherished creations of human genius. 

In "Stories of Gods and Heroes, " "King Arthur and His Knights" and"The Mabinogeon" the aim has been to supply to the modern readersuch knowledge of the fables of classical and mediaeval literatureas is needed to render intelligible the allusions which occur inreading and conversation. The "Legends of Charlemagne" is intendedto carry out the same design. Like the earlier portions of thework, it aspires to a higher character than that of a piece ofmere amusement. It claims to be useful, in acquainting its readerswith the subjects of the productions of the great poets of Italy. Some knowledge of these is expected of every well-educated youngperson. 

In reading these romances, we cannot fail to observe how theprimitive inventions have been used, again and again, bysuccessive generations of fabulists. The Siren of Ulysses is theprototype of the Siren of Orlando, and the character of Circereappears in Alcina. The fountains of Love and Hatred may betraced to the story of Cupid and Psyche; and similar effectsproduced by a magic draught appear in the tale of Tristram andIsoude, and, substituting a flower for the draught, inShakspeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream. " There are many otherinstances of the same kind which the reader will recognize withoutour assistance. 

The sources whence we derive these stories are, first, the Italianpoets named above; next, the "Romans de Chevalerie" of the Comtede Tressan; lastly, certain German collections of popular tales. Some chapters have been borrowed from Leigh Hunt's Translationsfrom the Italian Poets. It seemed unnecessary to do over againwhat he had already done so well; yet, on the other hand, thosestories could not be omitted from the series without leaving itincomplete. 

THOMAS BULFINCH. 

CONTENTS

STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

 I. Introduction II. Prometheus and Pandora III. Apollo and Daphne--Pyramus and Thisbe--Cephalus and Procris IV. Juno and her Rivals, Io and Callisto--Diana and Actaeon --Latona and the Rustics V. Phaeton VI. Midas--Baucis and Philemon VII. Proserpine--Glaucus and Scylla VIII. Pygmalion--Dryope--Venus and Adonis--Apollo and Hyacinthus IX. Ceyx and Halcyone X. Vertumnus and Pomona--Iphis and Anaxarete XI. Cupid and Psyche XII. Cadmus--The Myrmidons XIII. Nisus and Scylla--Echo and Narcissus--Clytie--Hero and Leander XIV. Minerva and Arachne--Niobe XV. The Graeae and Gorgons--Perseus and Medusa--Atlas--Andromeda XVI. Monsters: Giants--Sphinx--Pegasus and Chimaera--Centaurs --Griffin--Pygmies XVII. The Golden Fleece--Medea XVIII. Meleager and Atalanta XIX. Hercules--Hebe and Ganymede XX. Theseus and Daedalus--Castor and Pollux--Festivals and Games XXI. Bacchus and Ariadne XXII. The Rural Deities--The Dryads and Erisichthon --Rhoecus--Water Deities--Camenae--Winds XXIII. Achelous and Hercules--Admetus and Alcestis--Antigone--Penelope XXIV. Orpheus and Eurydice--Aristaeus--Amphion--Linus --Thamyris--Marsyas--Melampus--Musaeus XXV. Arion--Ibycus--Simonides--Sappho XXVI. Endymion--Orion--Aurora and Tithonus--Acis and Galatea XXVII. The Trojan War XXVIII. The Fall of Troy--Return of the Greeks--Orestes and Electra XXIX. Adventures of Ulysses--The Lotus-eaters--The Cyclopes --Circe--Sirens--Scylla and Charybdis--Calypso XXX. The Phaeacians--Fate of the Suitors XXXI. Adventures of Aeneas--The Harpies--Dido--Palinurus XXXII. The Infernal Regions--The Sibyl XXXIII. Aeneas in Italy--Camilla--Evander--Nisus and Euryalus --Mezentius--Turnus XXXIV. Pythagoras--Egyptian Deities--Oracles XXXV. Origin of Mythology--Statues of Gods and Goddesses --Poets of Mythology XXXVI. Monsters (modern)--The Phoenix--Basilisk--Unicorn--Salamander XXXVII. Eastern Mythology--Zoroaster--Hindu Mythology--Castes--Buddha --The Grand Lama--Prester JohnXXXVIII. Northern Mythology--Valhalla--The Valkyrior XXXIX. Thor's Visit to Jotunheim XL. The Death of Baldur--The Elves--Runic Letters--Skalds--Iceland --Teutonic Mythology--The Nibelungen Lied --Wagner's Nibelungen Ring XLI. The Druids--Iona

KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

 I. Introduction II. The Mythical History of England III. Merlin IV. Arthur V. Arthur (Continued) VI. Sir Gawain VII. Caradoc Briefbras; or, Caradoc with the Shrunken Arm VIII. Launcelot of the Lake IX. The Adventure of the Cart X. The Lady of Shalott XI. Queen Guenever's Peril XII. Tristram and Isoude XIII. Tristram and Isoude (Continued) XIV. Sir Tristram's Battle with Sir Launcelot XV. The Round Table XVI. Sir Palamedes XVII. Sir TristramXVIII. Perceval XIX. The Sangreal, or Holy Graal XX. The Sangreal (Continued) XXI. The Sangreal (Continued) XXII. Sir Agrivain's TreasonXXIII. Morte d'Arthur

THE MABINOGEON

 Introductory Note I. The Britons II. The Lady of the Fountain III. The Lady of the Fountain (Continued) IV. The Lady of the Fountain (Continued) V. Geraint, the Son of Erbin VI. Geraint, the Son of Erbin (Continued) VII. Geraint, the Son of Erbin (Continued)VIII. Pwyll, Prince of Dyved IX. Branwen, the Daughter of Llyr X. Manawyddan XI. Kilwich and Olwen XII. Kilwich and Olwen (Continued)XIII. Taliesin

HERO MYTHS OF THE BRITISH RACE

BeowulfCuchulain, Champion of IrelandHereward the WakeRobin Hood

LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE

IntroductionThe Peers, or PaladinsThe TournamentThe Siege of AlbraccaAdventures of Rinaldo and OrlandoThe Invasion of FranceThe Invasion of France (Continued)

Bradamante and RogeroAstolpho and the EnchantressThe OrcAstolpho's Adventures continued, and Isabella's begun. MedoroOrlando MadZerbino and IsabellaAstolpho in AbyssiniaThe War in AfricaRogero and BradamanteThe Battle of RoncesvallesRinaldo and BayardDeath of RinaldoHuon of BordeauxHuon of Bordeaux (Continued)Huon of Bordeaux (Continued)Ogier, the DaneOgier, the Dane (Continued)Ogier, the Dane (Continued)

GLOSSARY

STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

The religions of ancient Greece and Rome are extinct. The so-called divinities of Olympus have not a single worshipper amongliving men. They belong now not to the department of theology, butto those of literature and taste. There they still hold theirplace, and will continue to hold it, for they are too closelyconnected with the finest productions of poetry and art, bothancient and modern, to pass into oblivion. 

We propose to tell the stories relating to them which have comedown to us from the ancients, and which are alluded to by modernpoets, essayists, and orators. Our readers may thus at the sametime be entertained by the most charming fictions which fancy hasever created, and put in possession of information indispensableto every one who would read with intelligence the elegantliterature of his own day. 

In order to understand these stories, it will be necessary toacquaint ourselves with the ideas of the structure of the universewhich prevailed among the Greeks--the people from whom theRomans, and other nations through them, received their science andreligion. 

The Greeks believed the earth to be flat and circular, their owncountry occupying the middle of it, the central point being eitherMount Olympus, the abode of the gods, or Delphi, so famous for itsoracle. 

The circular disk of the earth was crossed from west to east anddivided into two equal parts by the Sea, as they called theMediterranean, and its continuation the Euxine, the only seas withwhich they were acquainted. 

Around the earth flowed the River Ocean, its course being fromsouth to north on the western side of the earth, and in a contrarydirection on the eastern side. It flowed in a steady, equablecurrent, unvexed by storm or tempest. The sea, and all the riverson earth, received their waters from it. 

The northern portion of the earth was supposed to be inhabited bya happy race named the Hyperboreans, dwelling in everlasting blissand spring beyond the lofty mountains whose caverns were supposedto send forth the piercing blasts of the north wind, which chilledthe people of Hellas (Greece). Their country was inaccessible byland or sea. They lived exempt from disease or old age, from toilsand warfare. Moore has given us the "Song of a Hyperborean, "beginning

 "I come from a land in the sun-bright deep, Where golden gardens glow, Where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep, Their conch shells never blow. "

On the south side of the earth, close to the stream of Ocean, dwelt a people happy and virtuous as the Hyperboreans. They werenamed the Aethiopians. The gods favored them so highly that theywere wont to leave at times their Olympian abodes and go to sharetheir sacrifices and banquets. 

On the western margin of the earth, by the stream of Ocean, lay ahappy place named the Elysian Plain, whither mortals favored bythe gods were transported without tasting of death, to enjoy animmortality of bliss. This happy region was also called the"Fortunate Fields, " and the "Isles of the Blessed. "

We thus see that the Greeks of the early ages knew little of anyreal people except those to the east and south of their owncountry, or near the coast of the Mediterranean. Their imaginationmeantime peopled the western portion of this sea with giants, monsters, and enchantresses; while they placed around the disk ofthe earth, which they probably regarded as of no great width, nations enjoying the peculiar favor of the gods, and blessed withhappiness and longevity. 

The Dawn, the Sun, and the Moon were supposed to rise out of theOcean, on the eastern side, and to drive through the air, givinglight to gods and men. The stars, also, except those forming theWain or Bear, and others near them, rose out of and sank into thestream of Ocean. There the sun-god embarked in a winged boat, which conveyed him round by the northern part of the earth, backto his place of rising in the east. Milton alludes to this in his"Comus":

 "Now the gilded car of day His golden axle doth allay In the steep Atlantic stream, And the slope Sun his upward beam Shoots against the dusky pole, Pacing towards the other goal Of his chamber in the east"

The abode of the gods was on the summit of Mount Olympus, inThessaly. A gate of clouds, kept by the goddesses named theSeasons, opened to permit the passage of the Celestials to earth, and to receive them on their return. The gods had their separatedwellings; but all, when summoned, repaired to the palace ofJupiter, as did also those deities whose usual abode was theearth, the waters, or the underworld. It was also in the greathall of the palace of the Olympian king that the gods feasted eachday on ambrosia and nectar, their food and drink, the latter beinghanded round by the lovely goddess Hebe. Here they conversed ofthe affairs of heaven and earth; and as they quaffed their nectar, Apollo, the god of music, delighted them with the tones of hislyre, to which the Muses sang in responsive strains. When the sunwas set, the gods retired to sleep in their respective dwellings. 

The following lines from the "Odyssey" will show how Homerconceived of Olympus:

 "So saying, Minerva, goddess azure-eyed, Rose to Olympus, the reputed seat Eternal of the gods, which never storms Disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm The expanse and cloudless shmes with purest day. There the inhabitants divine rejoice Forever"--Cowper. 

The robes and other parts of the dress of the goddesses were wovenby Minerva and the Graces and everything of a more solid naturewas formed of the various metals. Vulcan was architect, smith, armorer, chariot builder, and artist of all work in Olympus. Hebuilt of brass the houses of the gods; he made for them the goldenshoes with which they trod the air or the water, and moved fromplace to place with the speed of the wind, or even of thought. Healso shod with brass the celestial steeds, which whirled thechariots of the gods through the air, or along the surface of thesea. He was able to bestow on his workmanship self-motion, sothat the tripods (chairs and tables) could move of themselves inand out of the celestial hall. He even endowed with intelligencethe golden handmaidens whom he made to wait on himself. 

Jupiter, or Jove (Zeus [Footnote: The names included inparentheses are the Greek, the others being the Roman or Latinnames] ), though called the father of gods and men, had himself abeginning. Saturn (Cronos) was his father, and Rhea (Ops) hismother. Saturn and Rhea were of the race of Titans, who were thechildren of Earth and Heaven, which sprang from Chaos, of which weshall give a further account in our next chapter. 

There is another cosmogony, or account of the creation, accordingto which Earth, Erebus, and Love were the first of beings. Love(Eros) issued from the egg of Night, which floated on Chaos. Byhis arrows and torch he pierced and vivified all things, producinglife and joy. 

Saturn and Rhea were not the only Titans. There were others, whosenames were Oceanus, Hyperion, Iapetus, and Ophion, males; andThemis, Mnemosyne, Eurynome, females. They are spoken of as theelder gods, whose dominion was afterwards transferred to others. Saturn yielded to Jupiter, Oceanus to Neptune, Hyperion to Apollo. Hyperion was the father of the Sun, Moon, and Dawn. He istherefore the original sun-god, and is painted with the splendorand beauty which were afterwards bestowed on Apollo. 

 "Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself"

 --Shakspeare. 

Ophion and Eurynome ruled over Olympus till they were dethroned bySaturn and Rhea. Milton alludes to them in "Paradise Lost. " Hesays the heathens seem to have had some knowledge of thetemptation and fall of man. 

 "And fabled how the serpent, whom they called Ophion, with Eurynome, (the wide- Encroaching Eve perhaps, ) had first the rule Of high Olympus, thence by Saturn driven. "

The representations given of Saturn are not very consistent; foron the one hand his reign is said to have been the golden age ofinnocence and purity, and on the other he is described as amonster who devoured his children. [Footnote: This inconsistencyarises from considering the Saturn of the Romans the same with theGrecian deity Cronos (Time), which, as it brings an end to allthings which have had a beginning, may be said to devour its ownoffspring] Jupiter, however, escaped this fate, and when grown upespoused Metis (Prudence), who administered a draught to Saturnwhich caused him to disgorge his children. Jupiter, with hisbrothers and sisters, now rebelled against their father Saturn andhis brothers the Titans; vanquished them, and imprisoned some ofthem in Tartarus, inflicting other penalties on others. Atlas wascondemned to bear up the heavens on his shoulders. 

On the dethronement of Saturn, Jupiter with his brothers Neptune(Poseidon) and Pluto (Dis) divided his dominions. Jupiter'sportion was the heavens, Neptune's the ocean, and Pluto's therealms of the dead. Earth and Olympus were common property. Jupiter was king of gods and men. The thunder was his weapon, andhe bore a shield called Aegis, made for him by Vulcan. The eaglewas his favorite bird, and bore his thunderbolts. 

Juno (Hera) was the wife of Jupiter, and queen of the gods. Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, was her attendant and messenger. Thepeacock was her favorite bird. 

Vulcan (Hephaestos), the celestial artist, was the son of Jupiterand Juno. He was born lame, and his mother was so displeased atthe sight of him that she flung him out of heaven. Other accountssay that Jupiter kicked him out for taking part with his mother ina quarrel which occurred between them. Vulcan's lameness, according to this account, was the consequence of his fall. He wasa whole day falling, and at last alighted in the island of Lemnos, which was thenceforth sacred to him. Milton alludes to this storyin "Paradise Lost, " Book I. :

 "... From morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, A summer's day; and with the setting sun Dropped from the zenith, like a falling star, On Lemnos, the Aegean isle. "

Mars (Ares), the god of war, was the son of Jupiter and Juno. 

Phoebus Apollo, the god of archery, prophecy, and music, was theson of Jupiter and Latona, and brother of Diana (Artemis). He wasgod of the sun, as Diana, his sister, was the goddess of the moon. 

Venus (Aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, was thedaughter of Jupiter and Dione. Others say that Venus sprang fromthe foam of the sea. The zephyr wafted her along the waves to theIsle of Cyprus, where she was received and attired by the Seasons, and then led to the assembly of the gods. All were charmed withher beauty, and each one demanded her for his wife. Jupiter gaveher to Vulcan, in gratitude for the service he had rendered inforging thunderbolts. So the most beautiful of the goddessesbecame the wife of the most ill-favored of gods. Venus possessedan embroidered girdle called Cestus, which had the power ofinspiring love. Her favorite birds were swans and doves, and theplants sacred to her were the rose and the myrtle. 

Cupid (Eros), the god of love, was the son of Venus. He was herconstant companion; and, armed with bow and arrows, he shot thedarts of desire into the bosoms of both gods and men. There was adeity named Anteros, who was sometimes represented as the avengerof slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of reciprocalaffection. The following legend is told of him:

Venus, complaining to Themis that her son Eros continued always achild, was told by her that it was because he was solitary, andthat if he had a brother he would grow apace. Anteros was soonafterwards born, and Eros immediately was seen to increase rapidlyin size and strength. 

Minerva (Pallas, Athene), the goddess of wisdom, was the offspringof Jupiter, without a mother. She sprang forth from his headcompletely armed. Her favorite bird was the owl, and the plantsacred to her the olive. 

Byron, in "Childe Harold, " alludes to the birth of Minerva thus:

 "Can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be, And Freedom find no champion and no child, Such as Columbia saw arise, when she Sprang forth a Pallas, armed and undefiled? Or must such minds be nourished in the wild, Deep in the unpruned forest, 'midst the roar Of cataracts, where nursing Nature smiled On infant Washington? Has earth no more Such seeds within her breast, or Europe no such shore?"

Mercury (Hermes) was the son of Jupiter and Maia. He presided overcommerce, wrestling, and other gymnastic exercises, even overthieving, and everything, in short, which required skill anddexterity. He was the messenger of Jupiter, and wore a winged capand winged shoes. He bore in his hand a rod entwined with twoserpents, called the caduceus. 

Mercury is said to have invented the lyre. He found, one day, atortoise, of which he took the shell, made holes in the oppositeedges of it, and drew cords of linen through them, and theinstrument was complete. The cords were nine, in honor of the nineMuses. Mercury gave the lyre to Apollo, and received from him inexchange the caduceus. 

[Footnote: From this origin of the instrument, the word "shell" isoften used as synonymous with "lyre, " and figuratively for musicand poetry. Thus Gray, in his ode on the "Progress of Poesy, "says:

 "O Sovereign of the willing Soul, Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares And frantic Passions hear thy soft control. "]

Ceres (Demeter) was the daughter of Saturn and Rhea. She had adaughter named Proserpine (Persephone), who became the wife ofPluto, and queen of the realms of the dead. Ceres presided overagriculture. 

Bacchus (Dionysus), the god of wine, was the son of Jupiter andSemele. He represents not only the intoxicating power of wine, butits social and beneficent influences likewise, so that he isviewed as the promoter of civilization, and a lawgiver and loverof peace. 

The Muses were the daughters of Jupiter and Mnemosyne (Memory). They presided over song, and prompted the memory. They were ninein number, to each of whom was assigned the presidence over someparticular department of literature, art, or science. Calliope wasthe muse of epic poetry, Clio of history, Euterpe of lyric poetry, Melpomene of tragedy, Terpsichore of choral dance and song, Eratoof love poetry, Polyhymnia of sacred poetry, Urania of astronomy, Thalia of comedy. 

The Graces were goddesses presiding over the banquet, the dance, and all social enjoyments and elegant arts. They were three innumber. Their names were Euphrosyne, Aglaia, and Thalia. 

Spenser describes the office of the Graces thus:

 "These three on men all gracious gifts bestow Which deck the body or adorn the mind, To make them lovely or well-favored show; As comely carriage, entertainment kind, Sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind, And all the complements of courtesy; They teach us how to each degree and kind We should ourselves demean, to low, to high, To friends, to foes; which skill men call Civility. "

The Fates were also three--Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Theiroffice was to spin the thread of human destiny, and they werearmed with shears, with which they cut it off when they pleased. They were the daughters of Themis (Law), who sits by Jove on histhrone to give him counsel. 

The Erinnyes, or Furies, were three goddesses who punished bytheir secret stings the crimes of those who escaped or defiedpublic justice. The heads of the Furies were wreathed withserpents, and their whole appearance was terrific and appalling. Their names were Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaera. They were alsocalled Eumenides. 

Nemesis was also an avenging goddess. She represents the righteousanger of the gods, particularly towards the proud and insolent. 

Pan was the god of flocks and shepherds. His favorite residencewas in Arcadia. 

The Satyrs were deities of the woods and fields. They wereconceived to be covered with bristly hair, their heads decoratedwith short, sprouting horns, and their feet like goats' feet. 

Momus was the god of laughter, and Plutus the god of wealth. 

ROMAN DIVINITIES

The preceding are Grecian divinities, though received also by theRomans. Those which follow are peculiar to Roman mythology:

Saturn was an ancient Italian deity. It was attempted to identifyhim with the Grecian god Cronos, and fabled that after hisdethronement by Jupiter he fled to Italy, where he reigned duringwhat was called the Golden Age. In memory of his beneficentdominion, the feast of Saturnalia was held every year in thewinter season. Then all public business was suspended, declarations of war and criminal executions were postponed, friends made presents to one another and the slaves were indulgedwith great liberties. A feast was given them at which they sat attable, while their masters served them, to show the naturalequality of men, and that all things belonged equally to all, inthe reign of Saturn. 

Faunus, [Footnote: There was also a goddess called Fauna, or BonaDea. ] the grandson of Saturn, was worshipped as the god of fieldsand shepherds, and also as a prophetic god. His name in theplural, Fauns, expressed a class of gamesome deities, like theSatyrs of the Greeks. 

Quirinus was a war god, said to be no other than Romulus, thefounder of Rome, exalted after his death to a place among thegods. 

Bellona, a war goddess. 

Terminus, the god of landmarks. His statue was a rude stone orpost, set in the ground to mark the boundaries of fields. 

Pales, the goddess presiding over cattle and pastures. 

Pomona presided over fruit trees. 

Flora, the goddess of flowers. 

Lucina, the goddess of childbirth. 

Vesta (the Hestia of the Greeks) was a deity presiding over thepublic and private hearth. A sacred fire, tended by six virginpriestesses called Vestals, flamed in her temple. As the safety ofthe city was held to be connected with its conservation, theneglect of the virgins, if they let it go out, was severelypunished, and the fire was rekindled from the rays of the sun. 

Liber is the Latin name of Bacchus; and Mulciber of Vulcan. 

Janus was the porter of heaven. He opens the year, the first monthbeing named after him. He is the guardian deity of gates, on whichaccount he is commonly represented with two heads, because everydoor looks two ways. His temples at Rome were numerous. In wartime the gates of the principal one were always open. In peacethey were closed; but they were shut only once between the reignof Numa and that of Augustus. 

The Penates were the gods who were supposed to attend to thewelfare and prosperity of the family. Their name is derived fromPenus, the pantry, which was sacred to them. Every master of afamily was the priest to the Penates of his own house. 

The Lares, or Lars, were also household gods, but differed fromthe Penates in being regarded as the deified spirits of mortals. The family Lars were held to be the souls of the ancestors, whowatched over and protected their descendants. The words Lemur andLarva more nearly correspond to our word Ghost. 

The Romans believed that every man had his Genius, and every womanher Juno: that is, a spirit who had given them being, and wasregarded as their protector through life. On their birthdays menmade offerings to their Genius, women to their Juno. 

A modern poet thus alludes to some of the Roman gods:

 "Pomona loves the orchard, And Liber loves the vine, And Pales loves the straw-built shed Warm with the breath of kine; And Venus loves the whisper Of plighted youth and maid, In April's ivory moonlight, Beneath the chestnut shade. "

 --Macaulay, "Prophecy of Capys. "

N. B. --It is to be observed that in proper names the final e and esare to be sounded. Thus Cybele and Penates are words of threesyllables. But Proserpine and Thebes are exceptions, and to bepronounced as English words. In the Index at the close of thevolume we shall mark the accented syllable in all words whichappear to require it. 

CHAPTER II

PROMETHEUS AND PANDORA

The creation of the world is a problem naturally fitted to excitethe liveliest interest of man, its inhabitant. The ancient pagans, not having the information on the subject which we derive from thepages of Scripture, had their own way of telling the story, whichis as follows:

Before earth and sea and heaven were created, all things wore oneaspect, to which we give the name of Chaos--a confused andshapeless mass, nothing but dead weight, in which, however, slumbered the seeds of things. Earth, sea, and air were all mixedup together; so the earth was not solid, the sea was not fluid, and the air was not transparent. God and Nature at lastinterposed, and put an end to this discord, separating earth fromsea, and heaven from both. The fiery part, being the lightest, sprang up, and formed the skies; the air was next in weight andplace. The earth, being heavier, sank below; and the water tookthe lowest place, and buoyed up the earth. 

Here some god--it is not known which--gave his good offices inarranging and disposing the earth. He appointed rivers and baystheir places, raised mountains, scooped out valleys, distributedwoods, fountains, fertile fields, and stony plains. The air beingcleared, the stars began to appear, fishes took possession of thesea, birds of the air, and four-footed beasts of the land. 

But a nobler animal was wanted, and Man was made. It is not knownwhether the creator made him of divine materials, or whether inthe earth, so lately separated from heaven, there lurked stillsome heavenly seeds. Prometheus took some of this earth, andkneading it up with water, made man in the image of the gods. Hegave him an upright stature, so that while all other animals turntheir faces downward, and look to the earth, he raises his toheaven, and gazes on the stars. 

Prometheus was one of the Titans, a gigantic race, who inhabitedthe earth before the creation of man. To him and his brotherEpimetheus was committed the office of making man, and providinghim and all other animals with the faculties necessary for theirpreservation. Epimetheus undertook to do this, and Prometheus wasto overlook his work, when it was done. Epimetheus accordinglyproceeded to bestow upon the different animals the various giftsof courage, strength, swiftness, sagacity; wings to one, claws toanother, a shelly covering to a third, etc. But when man came tobe provided for, who was to be superior to all other animals, Epimetheus had been so prodigal of his resources that he hadnothing left to bestow upon him. In his perplexity he resorted tohis brother Prometheus, who, with the aid of Minerva, went up toheaven, and lighted his torch at the chariot of the sun, andbrought down fire to man. With this gift man was more than a matchfor all other animals. It enabled him to make weapons wherewith tosubdue them; tools with which to cultivate the earth; to warm hisdwelling, so as to be comparatively independent of climate; andfinally to introduce the arts and to coin money, the means oftrade and commerce. Woman was not yet made. The story (absurdenough!) is that Jupiter made her, and sent her to Prometheus andhis brother, to punish them for their presumption in stealing firefrom heaven; and man, for accepting the gift. The first woman wasnamed Pandora. She was made in heaven, every god contributingsomething to perfect her. Venus gave her beauty, Mercurypersuasion, Apollo music, etc. Thus equipped, she was conveyed toearth, and presented to Epimetheus, who gladly accepted her, though cautioned by his brother to beware of Jupiter and hisgifts. Epimetheus had in his house a jar, in which were keptcertain noxious articles, for which, in fitting man for his newabode, he had had no occasion. Pandora was seized with an eagercuriosity to know what this jar contained; and one day she slippedoff the cover and looked in. Forthwith there escaped a multitudeof plagues for hapless man, --such as gout, rheumatism, and colicfor his body, and envy, spite, and revenge for his mind, --andscattered themselves far and wide. Pandora hastened to replace thelid! but, alas! the whole contents of the jar had escaped, onething only excepted, which lay at the bottom, and that was HOPE. So we see at this day, whatever evils are abroad, hope neverentirely leaves us; and while we have THAT, no amount of otherills can make us completely wretched. 

Another story is that Pandora was sent in good faith, by Jupiter, to bless man; that she was furnished with a box, containing hermarriage presents, into which every god had put some blessing. Sheopened the box incautiously, and the blessings all escaped, HOPEonly excepted. This story seems more probable than the former; forhow could HOPE, so precious a jewel as it is, have been kept in ajar full of all manner of evils, as in the former statement?

The world being thus furnished with inhabitants, the first age wasan age of innocence and happiness, called the Golden Age. Truthand right prevailed, though not enforced by law, nor was there anymagistrate to threaten or punish. The forest had not yet beenrobbed of its trees to furnish timbers for vessels, nor had menbuilt fortifications round their towns. There were no such thingsas swords, spears, or helmets. The earth brought forth all thingsnecessary for man, without his labor in ploughing or sowing. Perpetual spring reigned, flowers sprang up without seed, therivers flowed with milk and wine, and yellow honey distilled fromthe oaks. 

Then succeeded the Silver Age, inferior to the golden, but betterthan that of brass. Jupiter shortened the spring, and divided theyear into seasons. Then, first, men had to endure the extremes ofheat and cold, and houses became necessary. Caves were the firstdwellings, and leafy coverts of the woods, and huts woven oftwigs. Crops would no longer grow without planting. The farmer wasobliged to sow the seed and the toiling ox to draw the plough. 

Next came the Brazen Age, more savage of temper, and readier tothe strife of arms, yet not altogether wicked. The hardest andworst was the Iron Age. Crime burst in like a flood; modesty, truth, and honor fled. In their places came fraud and cunning, violence, and the wicked love of gain. Then seamen spread sails tothe wind, and the trees were torn from the mountains to serve forkeels to ships, and vex the face of ocean. The earth, which tillnow had been cultivated in common, began to be divided off intopossessions. Men were not satisfied with what the surfaceproduced, but must dig into its bowels, and draw forth from thencethe ores of metals. Mischievous IRON, and more mischievous GOLD, were produced. War sprang up, using both as weapons; the guest wasnot safe in his friend's house; and sons-in-law and fathers-in-law, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, could not trust oneanother. Sons wished their fathers dead, that they might come tothe inheritance; family love lay prostrate. The earth was wet withslaughter, and the gods abandoned it, one by one, till Astraeaalone was left, and finally she also took her departure. 

[Footnote: The goddess of innocence and purity. After leavingearth, she was placed among the stars, where she became theconstellation Virgo--the Virgin. Themis (Justice) was the motherof Astraea. She is represented as holding aloft a pair of scales, in which she weighs the claims of opposing parties. 

It was a favorite idea of the old poets that these goddesses wouldone day return, and bring back the Golden Age. Even in a Christianhymn, the "Messiah" of Pope, this idea occurs:

 "All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, Returning Justice lift aloft her scale, Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend. "

See, also, Milton's "Hymn on the Nativity, " stanzas xiv. And xv. ]

Jupiter, seeing this state of things, burned with anger. Hesummoned the gods to council. They obeyed the call, and took theroad to the palace of heaven. The road, which any one may see in aclear night, stretches across the face of the sky, and is calledthe Milky Way. Along the road stand the palaces of the illustriousgods; the common people of the skies live apart, on either side. Jupiter addressed the assembly. He set forth the frightfulcondition of things on the earth, and closed by announcing hisintention to destroy the whole of its inhabitants, and provide anew race, unlike the first, who would be more worthy of life, andmuch better worshippers of the gods. So saying he took athunderbolt, and was about to launch it at the world, and destroyit by burning; but recollecting the danger that such aconflagration might set heaven itself on fire, he changed hisplan, and resolved to drown it. The north wind, which scatters theclouds, was chained up; the south was sent out, and soon coveredall the face of heaven with a cloak of pitchy darkness. Theclouds, driven together, resound with a crash; torrents of rainfall; the crops are laid low; the year's labor of the husbandmanperishes in an hour. Jupiter, not satisfied with his own waters, calls on his brother Neptune to aid him with his. He lets loosethe rivers, and pours them over the land. At the same time, heheaves the land with an earthquake, and brings in the reflux ofthe ocean over the shores. Flocks, herds, men, and houses areswept away, and temples, with their sacred enclosures, profaned. If any edifice remained standing, it was overwhelmed, and itsturrets lay hid beneath the waves. Now all was sea, sea withoutshore. Here and there an individual remained on a projectinghilltop, and a few, in boats, pulled the oar where they had latelydriven the plough. The fishes swim among the tree-tops; the anchoris let down into a garden. Where the graceful lambs played butnow, unwieldy sea calves gambol. The wolf swims among the sheep, the yellow lions and tigers struggle in the water. The strength ofthe wild boar serves him not, nor his swiftness the stag. Thebirds fall with weary wing into the water, having found no landfor a resting-place. Those living beings whom the water sparedfell a prey to hunger. 

Parnassus alone, of all the mountains, overtopped the waves; andthere Deucalion, and his wife Pyrrha, of the race of Prometheus, found refuge--he a just man, and she a faithful worshipper of thegods. Jupiter, when he saw none left alive but this pair, andremembered their harmless lives and pious demeanor, ordered thenorth winds to drive away the clouds, and disclose the skies toearth, and earth to the skies. Neptune also directed Triton toblow on his shell, and sound a retreat to the waters. The watersobeyed, and the sea returned to its shores, and the rivers totheir channels. Then Deucalion thus addressed Pyrrha: "O wife, only surviving woman, joined to me first by the ties of kindredand marriage, and now by a common danger, would that we possessedthe power of our ancestor Prometheus, and could renew the race ashe at first made it! But as we cannot, let us seek yonder temple, and inquire of the gods what remains for us to do. " They enteredthe temple, deformed as it was with slime, and approached thealtar, where no fire burned. There they fell prostrate on theearth, and prayed the goddess to inform them how they mightretrieve their miserable affairs. The oracle answered, "Departfrom the temple with head veiled and garments unbound, and castbehind you the bones of your mother. " They heard the words withastonishment. Pyrrha first broke silence: "We cannot obey; we darenot profane the remains of our parents. " They sought the thickestshades of the wood, and revolved the oracle in their minds. Atlength Deucalion spoke: "Either my sagacity deceives me, or thecommand is one we may obey without impiety. The earth is the greatparent of all; the stones are her bones; these we may cast behindus; and I think this is what the oracle means. At least, it willdo no harm to try. " They veiled their faces, unbound theirgarments, and picked up stones, and cast them behind them. Thestones (wonderful to relate) began to grow soft, and assume shape. By degrees, they put on a rude resemblance to the human form, likea block half-finished in the hands of the sculptor. The moistureand slime that were about them became flesh; the stony part becamebones; the veins remained veins, retaining their name, onlychanging their use. Those thrown by the hand of the man becamemen, and those by the woman became women. It was a hard race, andwell adapted to labor, as we find ourselves to be at this day, giving plain indications of our origin. 

The comparison of Eve to Pandora is too obvious to have escapedMilton, who introduces it in Book IV. Of "Paradise Lost":

 "More lovely than Pandora, whom the gods Endowed with all their gifts; and O, too like In sad event, when to the unwiser son Of Japhet brought by Hermes, she insnared Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire. "

Prometheus and Epimetheus were sons of Iapetus, which Miltonchanges to Japhet. 

Prometheus has been a favorite subject with the poets. He isrepresented as the friend of mankind, who interposed in theirbehalf when Jove was incensed against them, and who taught themcivilization and the arts. But as, in so doing, he transgressedthe will of Jupiter, he drew down on himself the anger of theruler of gods and men. Jupiter had him chained to a rock on MountCaucasus, where a vulture preyed on his liver, which was renewedas fast as devoured. This state of torment might have been broughtto an end at any time by Prometheus, if he had been willing tosubmit to his oppressor; for he possessed a secret which involvedthe stability of Jove's throne, and if he would have revealed it, he might have been at once taken into favor. But that he disdainedto do. He has therefore become the symbol of magnanimous enduranceof unmerited suffering, and strength of will resisting oppression. 

Byron and Shelley have both treated this theme. The following areByron's lines:

 "Titan! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despise; What was thy pity's recompense? A silent suffering, and intense; The rock, the vulture, and the chain; All that the proud can feel of pain; The agony they do not show; The suffocating sense of woe. 

 "Thy godlike crime was to be kind; To render with thy precepts less The sum of human wretchedness, And strengthen man with his own mind. And, baffled as thou wert from high, Still, in thy patient energy In the endurance and repulse Of thine impenetrable spirit, Which earth and heaven could not convulse, A mighty lesson we inherit. "

Byron also employs the same allusion, in his"Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte":

 "Or, like the thief of fire from heaven, Wilt thou withstand the shock? And share with him--the unforgiven-- His vulture and his rock?"

CHAPTER III

APOLLO AND DAPHNE--PYRAMUS AND THISBE CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS

The slime with which the earth was covered by the waters of theflood produced an excessive fertility, which called forth everyvariety of production, both bad and good. Among the rest, Python, an enormous serpent, crept forth, the terror of the people, andlurked in the caves of Mount Parnassus. Apollo slew him with hisarrows--weapons which he had not before used against any butfeeble animals, hares, wild goats, and such game. In commemorationof this illustrious conquest he instituted the Pythian games, inwhich the victor in feats of strength, swiftness of foot, or inthe chariot race was crowned with a wreath of beech leaves; forthe laurel was not yet adopted by Apollo as his own tree. 

The famous statue of Apollo called the Belvedere represents thegod after this victory over the serpent Python. To this Byronalludes in his "Childe Harold, " iv. , 161:

 "... The lord of the unerring bow, The god of life, and poetry, and light, The Sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow All radiant from his triumph in the fight The shaft has just been shot; the arrow bright With an immortal's vengeance; in his eye And nostril, beautiful disdain, and might And majesty flash their full lightnings by, Developing in that one glance the Deity. "

APOLLO AND DAPHNE

Daphne was Apollo's first love. It was not brought about byaccident, but by the malice of Cupid. Apollo saw the boy playingwith his bow and arrows; and being himself elated with his recentvictory over Python, he said to him, "What have you to do withwarlike weapons, saucy boy? Leave them for hands worthy of them. Behold the conquest I have won by means of them over the vastserpent who stretched his poisonous body over acres of the plain!Be content with your torch, child, and kindle up your flames, asyou call them, where you will, but presume not to meddle with myweapons. " Venus's boy heard these words, and rejoined, "Yourarrows may strike all things else, Apollo, but mine shall strikeyou. " So saying, he took his stand on a rock of Parnassus, anddrew from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship, one toexcite love, the other to repel it. The former was of gold andsharp pointed, the latter blunt and tipped with lead. With theleaden shaft he struck the nymph Daphne, the daughter of the rivergod Peneus, and with the golden one Apollo, through the heart. Forthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden, and sheabhorred the thought of loving. Her delight was in woodland sportsand in the spoils of the chase. Many lovers sought her, but shespurned them all, ranging the woods, and taking no thought ofCupid nor of Hymen. Her father often said to her, "Daughter, youowe me a son-in-law; you owe me grandchildren. " She, hating thethought of marriage as a crime, with her beautiful face tinged allover with blushes, threw arms around her father's neck, and said, "Dearest father, grant me this favor, that I may always remainunmarried, like Diana. " He consented, but at the same time said, "Your own face will forbid it. "

Apollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he who givesoracles to all the world was not wise enough to look into his ownfortunes. He saw her hair flung loose over her shoulders, andsaid, "If so charming in disorder, what would it be if arranged?"He saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and was notsatisfied with only seeing them. He admired her hands and arms, naked to the shoulder, and whatever was hidden from view heimagined more beautiful still. He followed her; she fled, swifterthan the wind, and delayed not a moment at his entreaties. "Stay, "said he, "daughter of Peneus; I am not a foe. Do not fly me as alamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk. It is for love I pursueyou. You make me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurtyourself on these stones, and I should be the cause. Pray runslower, and I will follow slower. I am no clown, no rude peasant. Jupiter is my father, and I am lord of Delphos and Tenedos, andknow all things, present and future. I am the god of song and thelyre. My arrows fly true to the mark; but, alas! an arrow morefatal than mine has pierced my heart! I am the god of medicine, and know the virtues of all healing plants. Alas! I suffer amalady that no balm can cure!"

The nymph continued her flight, and left his plea half uttered. And even as she fled she charmed him. The wind blew her garments, and her unbound hair streamed loose behind her. The god grewimpatient to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by Cupid, gained upon her in the race. It was like a hound pursuing a hare, with open jaws ready to seize, while the feebler animal dartsforward, slipping from the very grasp. So flew the god and thevirgin--he on the wings of love, and she on those of fear. Thepursuer is the more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and hispanting breath blows upon her hair. Her strength begins to fail, and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father, the river god:"Help me, Peneus! open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger!" Scarcely had she spoken, when a stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to beenclosed in a tender bark; her hair became leaves; her arms becamebranches; her foot stuck fast in the ground, as a root; her face, became a tree-top, retaining nothing of its former self but itsbeauty. Apollo stood amazed. He touched the stem, and felt theflesh tremble under the new bark. He embraced the branches, andlavished kisses on the wood. The branches shrank from his lips. "Since you cannot be my wife, " said he, "you shall assuredly be mytree. I will wear you for my crown; I will decorate with you myharp and my quiver; and when the great Roman conquerors lead upthe triumphal pomp to the Capitol, you shall be woven into wreathsfor their brows. And, as eternal youth is mine, you also shall bealways green, and your leaf know no decay. " The nymph, now changedinto a Laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment. 

That Apollo should be the god both of music and poetry will notappear strange, but that medicine should also be assigned to hisprovince, may. The poet Armstrong, himself a physician, thusaccounts for it:

 "Music exalts each joy, allays each grief, Expels diseases, softens every pain; And hence the wise of ancient days adored One power of physic, melody, and song. "

The story of Apollo and Daphne is often alluded to by the poets. Waller applies it to the case of one whose amatory verses, thoughthey did not soften the heart of his mistress, yet won for thepoet wide-spread fame:

 "Yet what he sung in his immortal strain, Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain. All but the nymph that should redress his wrong, Attend his passion and approve his song. Like Phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise, He caught at love and filled his arms with bays. "

The following stanza from Shelley's "Adonais" alludes to Byron'searly quarrel with the reviewers:

 "The herded wolves, bold only to pursue; The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead; The vultures, to the conqueror's banner true, Who feed where Desolation first has fed, And whose wings rain contagion: how they fled, When like Apollo, from his golden bow, The Pythian of the age one arrow sped And smiled! The spoilers tempt no second blow; They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go. "

PYRAMUS AND THISBE

Pyramus was the handsomest youth, and Thisbe the fairest maiden, in all Babylonia, where Semiramis reigned. Their parents occupiedadjoining houses; and neighborhood brought the young peopletogether, and acquaintance ripened into love. They would gladlyhave married, but their parents forbade. One thing, however, theycould not forbid--that love should glow with equal ardor in thebosoms of both. They conversed by signs and glances, and the fireburned more intensely for being covered up. In the wall thatparted the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault inthe structure. No one had remarked it before, but the loversdiscovered it. What will not love discover! It afforded a passageto the voice; and tender messages used to pass backward andforward through the gap. As they stood, Pyramus on this side, Thisbe on that, their breaths would mingle. "Cruel wall, " theysaid, "why do you keep two lovers apart? But we will not beungrateful. We owe you, we confess, the privilege of transmittingloving words to willing ears. " Such words they uttered ondifferent sides of the wall; and when night came and they must sayfarewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side, he on his, as they could come no nearer. 

Next morning, when Aurora had put out the stars, and the sun hadmelted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed spot. Then, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed, that nextnight, when all was still, they would slip away from watchfuleyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and toinsure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice standing withoutthe city's bounds, called the Tomb of Ninus, and that the one whocame first should await the other at the foot of a certain tree. It was a white mulberry tree, and stood near a cool spring. Allwas agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to go downbeneath the waters and night to rise up from them. Then cautiouslyThisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family, her head coveredwith a veil, made her way to the monument and sat down under thetree. As she sat alone in the dim light of the evening shedescried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. Thisbe fled at thesight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a rock. As she fled shedropped her veil. The lioness after drinking at the spring turnedto retreat to the woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossedand rent it with her bloody mouth. 

Pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the place of meeting. He saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion, and the color fledfrom his cheeks at the sight. Presently he found the veil all rentand bloody. "O hapless girl, " said he, "I have been the cause ofthy death! Thou, more worthy of life than I, hast fallen the firstvictim. I will follow. I am the guilty cause, in tempting theeforth to a place of such peril, and not being myself on the spotto guard thee. Come forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear thisguilty body with your teeth. " He took up the veil, carried it withhim to the appointed tree, and covered it with kisses and withtears. "MY blood also shall stain your texture, " said he, anddrawing his sword plunged it into his heart. The blood spurtedfrom the wound, and tinged the white mulberries of the tree allred; and sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the redcolor mounted through the trunk to the fruit. 

By this time Thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not todisappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking anxiouslyfor the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had escaped. Whenshe came to the spot and saw the changed color of the mulberriesshe doubted whether it was the same place. While she hesitated shesaw the form of one struggling in the agonies of death. Shestarted back, a shudder ran through her frame as a ripple on theface of the still water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. Butas soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and beat herbreast, embracing the lifeless body, pouring tears into itswounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips. "O Pyramus, " shecried, "what has done this? Answer me, Pyramus; it is your ownThisbe that speaks. Hear me, dearest, and lift that droopinghead!" At the name of Thisbe Pyramus opened his eyes, then closedthem again. She saw her veil stained with blood and the scabbardempty of its sword. "Thy own hand has slain thee, and for mysake, " she said. "I too can be brave for once, and my love is asstrong as thine. I will follow thee in death, for I have been thecause; and death which alone could part us shall not prevent myjoining thee. And ye, unhappy parents of us both, deny us not ourunited request. As love and death have joined us, let one tombcontain us. And thou, tree, retain the marks of slaughter. Let thyberries still serve for memorials of our blood. " So saying sheplunged the sword into her breast. Her parents ratified her wish, the gods also ratified it. The two bodies were buried in onesepulchre, and the tree ever after brought forth purple berries, as it does to this day. 

Moore, in the "Sylph's Ball, " speaking of Davy's Safety Lamp, isreminded of the wall that separated Thisbe and her lover:

 "O for that Lamp's metallic gauze, That curtain of protecting wire, Which Davy delicately draws Around illicit, dangerous fire!

 The wall he sets 'twixt Flame and Air, (Like that which barred young Thisbe's bliss, ) Through whose small holes this dangerous pair May see each other, but not kiss. "

In Mickle's translation of the "Lusiad" occurs the followingallusion to the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, and the metamorphosisof the mulberries. The poet is describing the Island of Love:

 "... Here each gift Pomona's hand bestows In cultured garden, free uncultured flows, The flavor sweeter and the hue more fair Than e'er was fostered by the hand of care. The cherry here in shining crimson glows, And stained with lovers' blood, in pendent rows, The mulberries o'erload the bending boughs. "

If any of our young readers can be so hard-hearted as to enjoy alaugh at the expense of poor Pyramus and Thisbe, they may find anopportunity by turning to Shakspeare's play of the "MidsummerNight's Dream, " where it is most amusingly burlesqued. 

CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS

Cephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly sports. He wouldrise before the dawn to pursue the chase. Aurora saw him when shefirst looked forth, fell in love with him, and stole him away. ButCephalus was just married to a charming wife whom he devotedlyloved. Her name was Procris. She was a favorite of Diana, thegoddess of hunting, who had given her a dog which could outrunevery rival, and a javelin which would never fail of its mark; andProcris gave these presents to her husband. Cephalus was so happyin his wife that he resisted all the entreaties of Aurora, and shefinally dismissed him in displeasure, saying, "Go, ungratefulmortal, keep your wife, whom, if I am not much mistaken, you willone day be very sorry you ever saw again. "

Cephalus returned, and was as happy as ever in his wife and hiswoodland sports. Now it happened some angry deity had sent aravenous fox to annoy the country; and the hunters turned out ingreat strength to capture it. Their efforts were all in vain; nodog could run it down; and at last they came to Cephalus to borrowhis famous dog, whose name was Lelaps. No sooner was the dog letloose than he darted off, quicker than their eye could follow him. If they had not seen his footprints in the sand they would havethought he flew. Cephalus and others stood on a hill and saw therace. The fox tried every art; he ran in a circle and turned onhis track, the dog close upon him, with open jaws, snapping at hisheels, but biting only the air. Cephalus was about to use hisjavelin, when suddenly he saw both dog and game stop instantly. The heavenly powers who had given both were not willing thateither should conquer. In the very attitude of life and actionthey were turned into stone. So lifelike and natural did theylook, you would have thought, as you looked at them, that one wasgoing to bark, the other to leap forward. 

Cephalus, though he had lost his dog, still continued to takedelight in the chase. He would go out at early morning, rangingthe woods and hills unaccompanied by any one, needing no help, forhis javelin was a sure weapon in all cases. Fatigued with hunting, when the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a coolstream flowed, and, stretched on the grass, with his garmentsthrown aside, would enjoy the breeze. Sometimes he would sayaloud, "Come, sweet breeze, come and fan my breast, come and allaythe heat that burns me. " Some one passing by one day heard himtalking in this way to the air, and, foolishly believing that hewas talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to Procris, Cephalus's wife. Love is credulous. Procris, at the sudden shock, fainted away. Presently recovering, she said, "It cannot be true;I will not believe it unless I myself am a witness to it. " So shewaited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when Cephaluswent to hunt as usual. Then she stole out after him, and concealedherself in the place where the informer directed her. Cephaluscame as he was wont when tired with sport, and stretched himselfon the green bank, saying, "Come, sweet breeze, come and fan me;you know how I love you! you make the groves and my solitaryrambles delightful. " He was running on in this way when he heard, or thought he heard, a sound as of a sob in the bushes. Supposingit some wild animal, he threw his javelin at the spot. A cry fromhis beloved Procris told him that the weapon had too surely metits mark. He rushed to the place, and found her bleeding, and withsinking strength endeavoring to draw forth from the wound thejavelin, her own gift. Cephalus raised her from the earth, stroveto stanch the blood, and called her to revive and not to leave himmiserable, to reproach himself with her death. She opened herfeeble eyes, and forced herself to utter these few words: "Iimplore you, if you have ever loved me, if I have ever deservedkindness at your hands, my husband, grant me this last request; donot marry that odious Breeze!" This disclosed the whole mystery:but alas! what advantage to disclose it now! She died; but herface wore a calm expression, and she looked pityingly andforgivingly on her husband when he made her understand the truth. 

Moore, in his "Legendary Ballads, " has one on Cephalus andProcris, beginning thus:

 "A hunter once in a grove reclined, To shun the noon's bright eye, And oft he wooed the wandering wind To cool his brow with its sigh While mute lay even the wild bee's hum, Nor breath could stir the aspen's hair, His song was still, 'Sweet Air, O come!' While Echo answered, 'Come, sweet Air!'"

CHAPTER IV

JUNO AND HER RIVALS, IO AND CALLISTO--DIANA AND ACTAEON--LATONAAND THE RUSTICS

Juno one day perceived it suddenly grow dark, and immediatelysuspected that her husband had raised a cloud to hide some of hisdoings that would not bear the light. She brushed away the cloud, and saw her husband on the banks of a glassy river, with abeautiful heifer standing near him. Juno suspected the heifer'sform concealed some fair nymph of mortal mould--as was, indeed thecase; for it was Io, the daughter of the river god Inachus, whomJupiter had been flirting with, and, when he became aware of theapproach of his wife, had changed into that form. 

Juno joined her husband, and noticing the heifer praised itsbeauty, and asked whose it was, and of what herd. Jupiter, to stopquestions, replied that it was a fresh creation from the earth. Juno asked to have it as a gift. What could Jupiter do? He wasloath to give his mistress to his wife; yet how refuse so triflinga present as a simple heifer? He could not, without excitingsuspicion; so he consented. The goddess was not yet relieved ofher suspicions; so she delivered the heifer to Argus, to bestrictly watched. 

Now Argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never went to sleepwith more than two at a time, so that he kept watch of Ioconstantly. He suffered her to feed through the day, and at nighttied her up with a vile rope round her neck. She would havestretched out her arms to implore freedom of Argus, but she had noarms to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that frightenedeven herself. She saw her father and her sisters, went near them, and suffered them to pat her back, and heard them admire herbeauty. Her father reached her a tuft of grass, and she licked theoutstretched hand. She longed to make herself known to him, andwould have uttered her wish; but, alas! words were wanting. Atlength she bethought herself of writing, and inscribed her name--it was a short one--with her hoof on the sand. Inachus recognizedit, and discovering that his daughter, whom he had long sought invain, was hidden under this disguise, mourned over her, and, embracing her white neck, exclaimed, "Alas! my daughter, it wouldhave been a less grief to have lost you altogether!" While he thuslamented, Argus, observing, came and drove her away, and took hisseat on a high bank, from whence he could see all around in everydirection. 

Jupiter was troubled at beholding the sufferings of his mistress, and calling Mercury told him to go and despatch Argus. Mercurymade haste, put his winged slippers on his feet, and cap on hishead, took his sleep-producing wand, and leaped down from theheavenly towers to the earth. There he laid aside his wings, andkept only his wand, with which he presented himself as a shepherddriving his flock. As he strolled on he blew upon his pipes. Thesewere what are called the Syrinx or Pandean pipes. Argus listenedwith delight, for he had never seen the instrument before. "Youngman, " said he, "come and take a seat by me on this stone. There isno better place for your flocks to graze in than hereabouts, andhere is a pleasant shade such as shepherds love. " Mercury satdown, talked, and told stories till it grew late, and played uponhis pipes his most soothing strains, hoping to lull the watchfuleyes to sleep, but all in vain; for Argus still contrived to keepsome of his eyes open though he shut the rest. 

Among other stories, Mercury told him how the instrument on whichhe played was invented. "There was a certain nymph, whose name wasSyrinx, who was much beloved by the satyrs and spirits of thewood; but she would have none of them, but was a faithfulworshipper of Diana, and followed the chase. You would havethought it was Diana herself, had you seen her in her huntingdress, only that her bow was of horn and Diana's of silver. Oneday, as she was returning from the chase, Pan met her, told herjust this, and added more of the same sort. She ran away, withoutstopping to hear his compliments, and he pursued till she came tothe bank of the river, where he overtook her, and she had onlytime to call for help on her friends the water nymphs. They heardand consented. Pan threw his arms around what he supposed to bethe form of the nymph, and found he embraced only a tuft of reeds!As he breathed a sigh, the air sounded through the reeds, andproduced a plaintive melody. The god, charmed with the novelty andwith the sweetness of the music, said, 'Thus, then, at least, youshall be mine. ' And he took some of the reeds, and placing themtogether, of unequal lengths, side by side, made an instrumentwhich he called Syrinx, in honor of the nymph. " Before Mercury hadfinished his story he saw Argus's eyes all asleep. As his headnodded forward on his breast, Mercury with one stroke cut his neckthrough, and tumbled his head down the rocks. O hapless Argus! thelight of your hundred eyes is quenched at once! Juno took them andput them as ornaments on the tail of her peacock, where theyremain to this day. 

But the vengeance of Juno was not yet satiated. She sent a gadflyto torment Io, who fled over the whole world from its pursuit. Sheswam through the Ionian sea, which derived its name from her, thenroamed over the plains of Illyria, ascended Mount Haemus, andcrossed the Thracian strait, thence named the Bosphorus (cow-ford), rambled on through Scythia, and the country of theCimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of the Nile. Atlength Jupiter interceded for her, and upon his promising not topay her any more attentions Juno consented to restore her to herform. It was curious to see her gradually recover her former self. The coarse hairs fell from her body, her horns shrank up, her eyesgrew narrower, her mouth shorter; hands and fingers came insteadof hoofs to her forefeet; in fine there was nothing left of theheifer, except her beauty. At first she was afraid to speak, forfear she should low, but gradually she recovered her confidenceand was restored to her father and sisters. 

In a poem dedicated to Leigh Hunt, by Keats, the followingallusion to the story of Pan and Syrinx occurs:

 "So did he feel who pulled the bough aside, That we might look into a forest wide, Telling us how fair trembling Syrinx fled Arcadian Pan, with such a fearful dread. Poor nymph--poor Pan--how he did weep to find Nought but a lovely sighing of the wind Along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain. Full of sweet desolation, balmy pain. "

CALLISTO

Callisto was another maiden who excited the jealousy of Juno, andthe goddess changed her into a bear. "I will take away, " said she, "that beauty with which you have captivated my husband. " Down fellCallisto on her hands and knees; she tried to stretch out her armsin supplication--they were already beginning to be covered withblack hair. Her hands grew rounded, became armed with crookedclaws, and served for feet; her mouth, which Jove used to praisefor its beauty, became a horrid pair of jaws; her voice, which ifunchanged would have moved the heart to pity, became a growl, morefit to inspire terror. Yet her former disposition remained, andwith continual groaning, she bemoaned her fate, and stood uprightas well as she could, lifting up her paws to beg for mercy, andfelt that Jove was unkind, though she could not tell him so. Ah, how often, afraid to stay in the woods all night alone, shewandered about the neighborhood of her former haunts; how often, frightened by the dogs, did she, so lately a huntress, fly interror from the hunters! Often she fled from the wild beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild beast herself; and, bear as shewas, was afraid of the bears. 

One day a youth espied her as he was hunting. She saw him andrecognized him as her own son, now grown a young man. She stoppedand felt inclined to embrace him. As she was about to approach, he, alarmed, raised his hunting spear, and was on the point oftransfixing her, when Jupiter, beholding, arrested the crime, andsnatching away both of them, placed them in the heavens as theGreat and Little Bear. 

Juno was in a rage to see her rival so set in honor, and hastenedto ancient Tethys and Oceanus, the powers of ocean, and in answerto their inquiries thus told the cause of her coming: "Do you askwhy I, the queen of the gods, have left the heavenly plains andsought your depths? Learn that I am supplanted in heaven--my placeis given to another. You will hardly believe me; but look whennight darkens the world, and you shall see the two of whom I haveso much reason to complain exalted to the heavens, in that partwhere the circle is the smallest, in the neighborhood of the pole. Why should any one hereafter tremble at the thought of offendingJuno, when such rewards are the consequence of my displeasure? Seewhat I have been able to effect! I forbade her to wear the humanform--she is placed among the stars! So do my punishments result--such is the extent of my power! Better that she should haveresumed her former shape, as I permitted Io to do. Perhaps hemeans to marry her, and put me away! But you, my foster-parents, if you feel for me, and see with displeasure this unworthytreatment of me, show it, I beseech you, by forbidding this guiltycouple from coming into your waters. " The powers of the oceanassented, and consequently the two constellations of the Great andLittle Bear move round and round in heaven, but never sink, as theother stars do, beneath the ocean. 

Milton alludes to the fact that the constellation of the Bearnever sets, when he says:

 "Let my lamp at midnight hour Be seen in some high lonely tower, Where I may oft outwatch the Bear, " etc. 

And Prometheus, in J. R. Lowell's poem, says:

 "One after one the stars have risen and set, Sparkling upon the hoar frost of my chain; The Bear that prowled all night about the fold Of the North-star, hath shrunk into his den, Scared by the blithesome footsteps of the Dawn. "

The last star in the tail of the Little Bear is the Pole-star, called also the Cynosure. Milton says:

 "Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures While the landscape round it measures. 

 Towers and battlements it sees Bosomed high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies The Cynosure of neighboring eyes"

The reference here is both to the Pole-star as the guide ofmariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the North He calls italso the "Star of Arcady, " because Callisto's boy was named Arcas, and they lived in Arcadia. In "Comus, " the brother, benighted inthe woods, says:

 "... Some gentle taper! Though a rush candle, from the wicker hole Of some clay habitation, visit us With thy long levelled rule of streaming light, And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, Or Tyrian Cynosure. "

DIANA AND ACTAEON

Thus in two instances we have seen Juno's severity to her rivals;now let us learn how a virgin goddess punished an invader of herprivacy. 

It was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from either goal, when young Actaeon, son of King Cadmus, thus addressed the youthswho with him were hunting the stag in the mountains:

"Friends, our nets and our weapons are wet with the blood of ourvictims; we have had sport enough for one day, and to-morrow wecan renew our labors. Now, while Phoebus parches the earth, let usput by our implements and indulge ourselves with rest. "

There was a valley thick enclosed with cypresses and pines, sacredto the huntress queen, Diana. In the extremity of the valley was acave, not adorned with art, but nature had counterfeited art inits construction, for she had turned the arch of its roof withstones as delicately fitted as if by the hand of man. A fountainburst out from one side, whose open basin was bounded by a grassyrim. Here the goddess of the woods used to come when weary withhunting and lave her virgin limbs in the sparkling water. 

One day, having repaired thither with her nymphs, she handed herjavelin, her quiver, and her bow to one, her robe to another, while a third unbound the sandals from her feet. Then Crocale, themost skilful of them, arranged her hair, and Nephele, Hyale, andthe rest drew water in capacious urns. While the goddess was thusemployed in the labors of the toilet, behold Actaeon, havingquitted his companions, and rambling without any especial object, came to the place, led thither by his destiny. As he presentedhimself at the entrance of the cave, the nymphs, seeing a man, screamed and rushed towards the goddess to hide her with theirbodies. But she was taller than the rest and overtopped them allby a head. Such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset or at dawncame over the countenance of Diana thus taken by surprise. Surrounded as she was by her nymphs, she yet turned half away, andsought with a sudden impulse for her arrows. As they were not athand, she dashed the water into the face of the intruder, addingthese words: "Now go and tell, if you can, that you have seenDiana unapparelled. " Immediately a pair of branching stag's hornsgrew out of his head, his neck gained in length, his ears grewsharp-pointed, his hands became feet, his arms long legs, his bodywas covered with a hairy spotted hide. Fear took the place of hisformer boldness, and the hero fled. He could not but admire hisown speed; but when he saw his horns in the water, "Ah, wretchedme!" he would have said, but no sound followed the effort. Hegroaned, and tears flowed down the face which had taken the placeof his own. Yet his consciousness remained. What shall he do?--gohome to seek the palace, or lie hid in the woods? The latter hewas afraid, the former he was ashamed, to do. While he hesitatedthe dogs saw him. First Melampus, a Spartan dog, gave the signalwith his bark, then Pamphagus, Dorceus, Lelaps, Theron, Nape, Tigris, and all the rest, rushed after him swifter than the wind. Over rocks and cliffs, through mountain gorges that seemedimpracticable, he fled and they followed. Where he had oftenchased the stag and cheered on his pack, his pack now chased him, cheered on by his huntsmen. He longed to cry out, "I am Actaeon;recognize your master!" but the words came not at his will. Theair resounded with the bark of the dogs. Presently one fastened onhis back, another seized his shoulder. While they held theirmaster, the rest of the pack came up and buried their teeth in hisflesh. He groaned, --not in a human voice, yet certainly not in astag's, --and falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and would haveraised his arms in supplication, if he had had them. His friendsand fellow-huntsmen cheered on the dogs, and looked everywhere forActaeon, calling on him to join the sport. At the sound of hisname he turned his head, and heard them regret that he should beaway. He earnestly wished he was. He would have been well pleasedto see the exploits of his dogs, but to feel them was too much. They were all around him, rending and tearing; and it was not tillthey had torn his life out that the anger of Diana was satisfied. 

In Shelley's poem "Adonais" is the following allusion to the storyof Actaeon:

 "'Midst others of less note came one frail form, A phantom among men: companionless As the last cloud of an expiring storm, Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I guess, Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness, Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness; And his own Thoughts, along that rugged way, Pursued like raging hounds their father and their prey. "

 Stanza 31. 

The allusion is probably to Shelley himself. 

LATONA AND THE RUSTICS

Some thought the goddess in this instance more severe than wasjust, while others praised her conduct as strictly consistent withher virgin dignity. As, usual, the recent event brought older onesto mind, and one of the bystanders told this story: "Somecountrymen of Lycia once insulted the goddess Latona, but not withimpunity. When I was young, my father, who had grown too old foractive labors, sent me to Lycia to drive thence some choice oxen, and there I saw the very pond and marsh where the wonder happened. Near by stood an ancient altar, black with the smoke of sacrificeand almost buried among the reeds. I inquired whose altar it mightbe, whether of Faunus or the Naiads, or some god of theneighboring mountain, and one of the country people replied, 'Nomountain or river god possesses this altar, but she whom royalJuno in her jealousy drove from land to land, denying her any spotof earth whereon to rear her twins. Bearing in her arms the infantdeities, Latona reached this land, weary with her burden andparched with thirst. By chance she espied on the bottom of thevalley this pond of clear water, where the country people were atwork gathering willows and osiers. The goddess approached, andkneeling on the bank would have slaked her thirst in the coolstream, but the rustics forbade her. 'Why do you refuse me water?'said she; 'water is free to all. Nature allows no one to claim asproperty the sunshine, the air, or the water. I come to take myshare of the common blessing. Yet I ask it of you as a favor. Ihave no intention of washing my limbs in it, weary though they be, but only to quench my thirst. My mouth is so dry that I can hardlyspeak. A draught Of water would be nectar to me; it would reviveme, and I would own myself indebted to you for life itself. Letthese infants move your pity, who stretch out their little arms asif to plead for me;' and the children, as it happened, werestretching out their arms. 

"Who would not have been moved with these gentle words of thegoddess? But these clowns persisted in their rudeness; they evenadded jeers and threats of violence if she did not leave theplace. Nor was this all. They waded into the pond and stirred upthe mud with their feet, so as to make the water unfit to drink. Latona was so angry that she ceased to mind her thirst. She nolonger supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to heavenexclaimed, 'May they never quit that pool, but pass their livesthere!' And it came to pass accordingly. They now live in thewater, sometimes totally submerged, then raising their heads abovethe surface or swimming upon it. Sometimes they come out upon thebank, but soon leap back again into the water. They still usetheir base voices in railing, and though they have the water allto themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst of it. Theirvoices are harsh, their throats bloated, their mouths have becomestretched by constant railing, their necks have shrunk up anddisappeared, and their heads are joined to their bodies. Theirbacks are green, their disproportioned bellies white, and in shortthey are now frogs, and dwell in the slimy pool. "

This story explains the allusion in one of Milton's sonnets, "Onthe detraction which followed upon his writing certain treatises. "

 "I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known laws of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs. As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny, Which after held the sun and moon in fee. "

The persecution which Latona experienced from Juno is alluded toin the story. The tradition was that the future mother of Apolloand Diana, flying from the wrath of Juno, besought all the islandsof the Aegean to afford her a place of rest, but all feared toomuch the potent queen of heaven to assist her rival. Delos aloneconsented to become the birthplace of the future deities. Deloswas then a floating island; but when Latona arrived there, Jupiterfastened it with adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea, thatit might be a secure resting-place for his beloved. Byron alludesto Delos in his "Don Juan":

 "The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung!"

CHAPTER V

PHAETON

Phaeton was the son of Apollo and the nymph Clymene. One day aschoolfellow laughed at the idea of his being the son of the god, and Phaeton went in rage and shame and reported it to his mother. "If, " said he, "I am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor. " Clymenestretched forth her hands towards the skies, and said, "I call towitness the Sun which looks down upon us, that I have told you thetruth. If I speak falsely, let this be the last time I behold hislight. But it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself;the land whence the Sun rises lies next to ours. Go and demand ofhim whether he will own you as a son. " Phaeton heard with delight. He travelled to India, which lies directly in the regions ofsunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whencehis parent begins his course. 

The palace of the Sun stood reared aloft on columns, glitteringwith gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed theceilings, and silver the doors. The workmanship surpassed thematerial; [Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions. ] for upon thewalls Vulcan had represented earth, sea, and skies, with theirinhabitants. In the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in thewaves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat uponthe rocks and dried their sea-green hair. Their faces were not allalike, nor yet unlike, --but such as sisters' ought to be. [Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions. ] The earth had its townsand forests and rivers and rustic divinities. Over all was carvedthe likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the silver doors thetwelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side. 

Clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the hallsof his disputed father. He approached the paternal presence, butstopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear. Phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne, whichglittered as with diamonds. On his right hand and his left stoodthe Day, the Month, and the Year, and, at regular intervals, theHours. Spring stood with her head crowned with flowers, andSummer, with garment cast aside, and a garland formed of spears ofripened grain, and Autumn, with his feet stained with grape-juice, and icy Winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost. Surrounded by these attendants, the Sun, with the eye that seeseverything, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and splendorof the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand. The youthreplied, "O light of the boundless world, Phoebus, my father, --ifyou permit me to use that name, --give me some proof, I beseechyou, by which I may be known as yours. " He ceased; and his father, laying aside the beams that shone all around his head, bade himapproach, and embracing him, said, "My son, you deserve not to bedisowned, and I confirm what your mother has told you. To put anend to your doubts, ask what you will, the gift shall be yours. Icall to witness that dreadful lake, which I never saw, but whichwe gods swear by in our most solemn engagements. " Phaetonimmediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariotof the sun. The father repented of his promise; thrice and fourtimes he shook his radiant head in warning. "I have spokenrashly, " said he; "this only request I would fain deny. I beg youto withdraw it. It is not a safe boon, nor one, my Phaeton, suitedto your youth and strength. Your lot is mortal, and you ask whatis beyond a mortal's power. In your ignorance you aspire to dothat which not even the gods themselves may do. None but myselfmay drive the flaming car of day. Not even Jupiter, whose terribleright arm hurls the thunderbolts. The first part of the way issteep, and such as the horses when fresh in the morning can hardlyclimb; the middle is high up in the heavens, whence I myself canscarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the earth and seastretched beneath me. The last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires most careful driving. Tethys, who is waiting toreceive me, often trembles for me lest I should fall headlong. Addto all this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carryingthe stars with it. I have to be perpetually on my guard lest thatmovement, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry me alsoaway. Suppose I should lend you the chariot, what would you do?Could you keep your course while the sphere was revolving underyou? Perhaps you think that there are forests and cities, theabodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the way. On thecontrary, the road is through the midst of frightful monsters. Youpass by the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer, and nearthe Lion's jaws, and where the Scorpion stretches its arms in onedirection and the Crab in another. Nor will you find it easy toguide those horses, with their breasts full of fire that theybreathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. I can scarcelygovern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins. Beware, my son, lest I be the donor of a fatal gift; recall yourrequest while yet you may. Do you ask me for a proof that you aresprung from my blood? I give you a proof in my fears for you. Lookat my face--I would that you could look into my breast, you wouldthere see all a father's anxiety. Finally, " he continued, "lookround the world and choose whatever you will of what earth or seacontains most precious--ask it and fear no refusal. This only Ipray you not to urge. It is not honor, but destruction you seek. Why do you hang round my neck and still entreat me? You shall haveit if you persist, --the oath is sworn and must be kept, --but I begyou to choose more wisely. "

He ended; but the youth rejected all admonition and held to hisdemand. So, having resisted as long as he could, Phoebus at lastled the way to where stood the lofty chariot. 

It was of gold, the gift of Vulcan; the axle was of gold, the poleand wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. Along the seat were rowsof chrysolites and diamonds which reflected all around thebrightness of the sun. While the daring youth, gazed inadmiration, the early Dawn threw open the purple doors of theeast, and showed the pathway strewn with roses. The starswithdrew, marshalled by the Day-star, which last of all retiredalso. The father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and theMoon preparing to retire, ordered the Hours to harness up thehorses. They obeyed, and led forth from the lofty stalls thesteeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins. Then thefather bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, andmade him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. He setthe rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "If, myson, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip andhold tight the reins. They go fast enough of their own accord; thelabor is to hold them in. You are not to take the straight roaddirectly between the five circles, but turn off to the left. Keepwithin the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern andthe southern alike. You will see the marks of the wheels, and theywill serve to guide you. And, that the skies and the earth mayeach receive their due share of heat, go not too high, or you willburn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set theearth on fire; the middle course is safest and best. [Footnote:See Proverbial Expressions] And now I leave you to your chance, which I hope will plan better for you than you have done foryourself. Night is passing out of the western gates and we candelay no longer. Take the reins; but if at last your heart failsyou, and you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are insafety, and suffer me to light and warm the earth. " The agileyouth sprang into the chariot, stood erect, and grasped the reinswith delight, pouring out thanks to his reluctant parent. 

Meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fierybreath, and stamp the ground impatient. Now the bars are let down, and the boundless plain of the universe lies open before them. They dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun themorning breezes which started from the same eastern goal. Thesteeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter thanusual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither and thitheron the sea, so the chariot, without its accustomed weight, wasdashed about as if empty. They rush headlong and leave thetravelled road. He is alarmed, and knows not how to guide them;nor, if he knew, has he the power. Then, for the first time, theGreat and Little Bear were scorched with heat, and would fain, ifit were possible, have plunged into the water; and the Serpentwhich lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage revive. Bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his plough, and all unused torapid motion. 

When hapless Phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading invast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook withterror. In spite of the glare all around him, the sight of hiseyes grew dim. He wished he had never touched his father's horses, never learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. He isborne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest, when thepilot can do no more and betakes himself to his prayers. Whatshall he do? Much of the heavenly road is left behind, but moreremains before. He turns his eyes from one direction to the other;now to the goal whence he began his course, now to the realms ofsunset which he is not destined to reach. He loses his self-command, and knows not what to do, --whether to draw tight thereins or throw them loose; he forgets the names of the horses. Hesees with terror the monstrous forms scattered over the surface ofheaven. Here the Scorpion extended his two great arms, with histail and crooked claws stretching over two signs of the zodiac. When the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and menacing with hisfangs, his courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands. Thehorses, when they felt them loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained went off into unknown regions of the sky, inamong the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now upin high heaven, now down almost to the earth. The moon saw withastonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. Theclouds begin to smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fieldsare parched with heat, the plants wither, the trees with theirleafy branches burn, the harvest is ablaze! But these are smallthings. Great cities perished, with their walls and towers; wholenations with their people were consumed to ashes! The forest-cladmountains burned, Athos and Taurus and Tmolus and OEte; Ida, oncecelebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the Muses' mountainHelicon, and Haemus; Aetna, with fires within and without, andParnassus, with his two peaks, and Rhodope, forced at last to partwith his snowy crown. Her cold climate was no protection toScythia, Caucasus burned, and Ossa and Pindus, and, greater thanboth, Olympus; the Alps high in air, and the Apennines crownedwith clouds. 

Then Phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heatintolerable. The air he breathed was like the air of a furnace andfull of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy darkness. Hedashed forward he knew not whither. Then, it is believed, thepeople of Aethiopia became black by the blood being forced sosuddenly to the surface, and the Libyan desert was dried up to thecondition in which it remains to this day. The Nymphs of thefountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor werethe rivers safe beneath their banks: Tanais smoked, and Caicus, Xanthus, and Meander; Babylonian Euphrates and Ganges, Tagus withgolden sands, and Cayster where the swans resort. Nile fled awayand hid his head in the desert, and there it still remainsconcealed. Where he used to discharge his waters through sevenmouths into the sea, there seven dry channels alone remained. Theearth cracked open, and through the chinks light broke intoTartarus, and frightened the king of shadows and his queen. Thesea shrank up. Where before was water, it became a dry plain; andthe mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted up their heads andbecame islands. The fishes sought the lowest depths, and thedolphins no longer ventured as usual to sport on the surface. EvenNereus, and his wife Doris, with the Nereids, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for refuge. Thrice Neptune essayed toraise his head above the surface, and thrice was driven back bythe heat. Earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yet with headand shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up toheaven, and with a husky voice called on Jupiter:

"O ruler of the gods, if I have deserved this treatment, and it isyour will that I perish with fire, why withhold your thunderbolts?Let me at least fall by your hand. Is this the reward of myfertility, of my obedient service? Is it for this that I havesupplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and frankincensefor your altars? But if I am unworthy of regard, what has mybrother Ocean done to deserve such a fate? If neither of us canexcite your pity, think, I pray you, of your own heaven, andbehold how both the poles are smoking which sustain your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed. Atlas faints, and scarceholds up his burden. If sea, earth, and heaven perish, we fallinto ancient Chaos. Save what yet remains to us from the devouringflame. O, take thought for our deliverance in this awful moment!"

Thus spoke Earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say nomore. Then Jupiter omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods, including him who had lent the chariot, and showing them that allwas lost unless speedy remedy were applied, mounted the loftytower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls theforked lightnings. But at that time not a cloud was to be found tointerpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower remainingunexhausted. He thundered, and brandishing a lightning bolt in hisright hand launched it against the charioteer, and struck him atthe same moment from his seat and from existence! Phaeton, withhis hair on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which marksthe heavens with its brightness as it falls, and Eridanus, thegreat river, received him and cooled his burning frame. TheItalian Naiads reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these wordsupon the stone:

 "Driver of Phoebus' chariot Phaeton, Struck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone. He could not rule his father's car of fire, Yet was it much so nobly to aspire"

[Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions]

His sisters, the Heliades, as they lamented his fate, were turnedinto poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears, which continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into thestream. 

Milman, in his poem of "Samor, " makes the following allusion toPhaeton's story:

 "As when the palsied universe aghast Lay mute and still, When drove, so poets sing, the Sun-born youth Devious through Heaven's affrighted signs his sire's Ill-granted chariot. Him the Thunderer hurled From th' empyrean headlong to the gulf Of the half-parched Eridanus, where weep Even now the sister trees their amber tears O'er Phaeton untimely dead"

In the beautiful lines of Walter Savage Landor, descriptive of theSea-shell, there is an allusion to the Sun's palace and chariot. The water-nymph says:

 "I have sinuous shells of pearly hue Within, and things that lustre have imbibed In the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked His chariot wheel stands midway on the wave. Shake one and it awakens; then apply Its polished lip to your attentive ear, And it remembers its august abodes, And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there. "

 --Gebir, Book I. 

CHAPTER VI

MIDAS--BAUCIS AND PHILEMON

Bacchus, on a certain occasion, found his old schoolmaster andfoster-father, Silenus, missing. The old man had been drinking, and in that state wandered away, and was found by some peasants, who carried him to their king, Midas. Midas recognized him, andtreated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nightswith an unceasing round of jollity. On the eleventh day he broughtSilenus back, and restored him in safety to his pupil. WhereuponBacchus offered Midas his choice of a reward, whatever he mightwish. He asked that whatever he might touch should be changed intoGOLD. Bacchus consented, though sorry that he had not made abetter choice. Midas went his way, rejoicing in his new-acquiredpower, which he hastened to put to the test. He could scarcebelieve his eyes when he found a twig of an oak, which he pluckedfrom the branch, become gold in his hand. He took up a stone; itchanged to gold. He touched a sod; it did the same. He took anapple from the tree; you would have thought he had robbed thegarden of the Hesperides. His joy knew no bounds, and as soon ashe got home, he ordered the servants to set a splendid repast onthe table. Then he found to his dismay that whether he touchedbread, it hardened in his hand; or put a morsel to his lips, itdefied his teeth. He took a glass of wine, but it flowed down histhroat like melted gold. 

In consternation at the unprecedented affliction, he strove todivest himself of his power; he hated the gift he had latelycoveted. But all in vain; starvation seemed to await him. Heraised his arms, all shining with gold, in prayer to Bacchus, begging to be delivered from his glittering destruction. Bacchus, merciful deity, heard and consented. "Go, " said he, "to the RiverPactolus, trace the stream to its fountain-head, there plunge yourhead and body in, and wash away your fault and its punishment. " Hedid so, and scarce had he touched the waters before the gold-creating power passed into them, and the river-sands becamechanged into GOLD, as they remain to this day. 

Thenceforth Midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt in thecountry, and became a worshipper of Pan, the god of the fields. Ona certain occasion Pan had the temerity to compare his music withthat of Apollo, and to challenge the god of the lyre to a trial ofskill. The challenge was accepted, and Tmolus, the mountain god, was chosen umpire. The senior took his seat, and cleared away thetrees from his ears to listen. At a given signal Pan blew on hispipes, and with his rustic melody gave great satisfaction tohimself and his faithful follower Midas, who happened to bepresent. Then Tmolus turned his head toward the Sun-god, and allhis trees turned with him. Apollo rose, his brow wreathed withParnassian laurel, while his robe of Tyrian purple swept theground. In his left hand he held the lyre, and with his right handstruck the strings. Ravished with the harmony, Tmolus at onceawarded the victory to the god of the lyre, and all but Midasacquiesced in the judgment. He dissented, and questioned thejustice of the award. Apollo would not suffer such a depraved pairof ears any longer to wear the human form, but caused them toincrease in length, grow hairy, within and without, and movable ontheir roots; in short, to be on the perfect pattern of those of anass. 

Mortified enough was King Midas at this mishap; but he consoledhimself with the thought that it was possible to hide hismisfortune, which he attempted to do by means of an ample turbanor head-dress. But his hair-dresser of course knew the secret. Hewas charged not to mention it, and threatened with dire punishmentif he presumed to disobey. But he found it too much for hisdiscretion to keep such a secret; so he went out into the meadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered the story, and covered it up. Before long a thick bed of reeds sprang up inthe meadow, and as soon as it had gained its growth, beganwhispering the story, and has continued to do so, from that day tothis, every time a breeze passes over the place. 

The story of King Midas has been told by others with somevariations. Dryden, in the "Wife of Bath's Tale, " makes Midas'squeen the betrayer of the secret:

 "This Midas knew, and durst communicate To none but to his wife his ears of state. "

Midas was king of Phrygia. He was the son of Gordius, a poorcountryman, who was taken by the people and made king, inobedience to the command of the oracle, which had said that theirfuture king should come in a wagon. While the people weredeliberating, Gordius with his wife and son came driving his wagoninto the public square. 

Gordius, being made king, dedicated his wagon to the deity of theoracle, and tied it up in its place with a fast knot. This was thecelebrated Gordian knot, which, in after times it was said, whoever should untie should become lord of all Asia. Many tried tountie it, but none succeeded, till Alexander the Great, in hiscareer of conquest, came to Phrygia. He tried his skill with asill success as others, till growing impatient he drew his swordand cut the knot. When he afterwards succeeded in subjecting allAsia to his sway, people began to think that he had complied withthe terms of the oracle according to its true meaning. 

BAUCIS AND PHILEMON

On a certain hill in Phrygia stands a linden tree and an oak, enclosed by a low wall. Not far from the spot is a marsh, formerlygood habitable land, but now indented with pools, the resort offen-birds and cormorants. Once on a time Jupiter, in, human shape, visited this country, and with him his son Mercury (he of thecaduceus), without his wings. They presented themselves, as wearytravellers, at many a door, seeking rest and shelter, but foundall closed, for it was late, and the inhospitable inhabitantswould not rouse themselves to open for their reception. At last ahumble mansion received them, a small thatched cottage, whereBaucis, a pious old dame, and her husband Philemon, united whenyoung, had grown old together. Not ashamed of their poverty, theymade it endurable by moderate desires and kind dispositions. Oneneed not look there for master or for servant; they two were thewhole household, master and servant alike. When the two heavenlyguests crossed the humble threshold, and bowed their heads to passunder the low door, the old man placed a seat, on which Baucis, bustling and attentive, spread a cloth, and begged them to sitdown. Then she raked out the coals from the ashes, and kindled upa fire, fed it with leaves and dry bark, and with her scantybreath blew it into a flame. She brought out of a corner splitsticks and dry branches, broke them up, and placed them under thesmall kettle. Her husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden, and she shred them from the stalks, and prepared them for the pot. He reached down with a forked stick a flitch of bacon hanging inthe chimney, cut a small piece, and put it in the pot to boil withthe herbs, setting away the rest for another time. A beechen bowlwas filled with warm water, that their guests might wash. Whileall was doing, they beguiled the time with conversation. 

On the bench designed for the guests was laid a cushion stuffedwith sea-weed; and a cloth, only produced on great occasions, butancient and coarse enough, was spread over that. The old lady, with her apron on, with trembling hand set the table. One leg wasshorter than the rest, but a piece of slate put under restored thelevel. When fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet-smelling herbs. Upon it she set some of chaste Minerva's olives, some cornel berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes andcheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes. All were served inearthen dishes, and an earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups, stood beside them. When all was ready, the stew, smoking hot, wasset on the table. Some wine, not of the oldest, was added; and fordessert, apples and wild honey; and over and above all, friendlyfaces, and simple but hearty welcome. 

Now while the repast proceeded, the old folks were astonished tosee that the wine, as fast as it was poured out, renewed itself inthe pitcher, of its own accord. Struck with terror, Baucis andPhilemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell on their knees, and with clasped hands implored forgiveness for their poorentertainment. There was an old goose, which they kept as theguardian of their humble cottage; and they bethought them to makethis a sacrifice in honor of their guests. But the goose, toonimble, with the aid of feet and wings, for the old folks, eludedtheir pursuit, and at last took shelter between the godsthemselves. They forbade it to be slain; and spoke in these words:"We are gods. This inhospitable village shall pay the penalty ofits impiety; you alone shall go free from the chastisement. Quityour house, and come with us to the top of yonder hill. " Theyhastened to obey, and, staff in hand, labored up the steep ascent. They had reached to within an arrow's flight of the top, whenturning their eyes below, they beheld all the country sunk in alake, only their own house left standing. While they gazed withwonder at the sight, and lamented the fate of their neighbors, that old house of theirs was changed into a temple. Columns tookthe place of the corner posts, the thatch grew yellow and appeareda gilded roof, the floors became marble, the doors were enrichedwith carving and ornaments of gold. Then spoke Jupiter inbenignant accents: "Excellent old man, and woman worthy of such ahusband, speak, tell us your wishes; what favor have you to ask ofus?" Philemon took counsel with Baucis a few moments; thendeclared to the gods their united wish. "We ask to be priests andguardians of this your temple; and since here we have passed ourlives in love and concord, we wish that one and the same hour maytake us both from life, that I may not live to see her grave, norbe laid in my own by her. " Their prayer was granted. They were thekeepers of the temple as long as they lived. When grown very old, as they stood one day before the steps of the sacred edifice, andwere telling the story of the place, Baucis saw Philemon begin toput forth leaves, and old Philemon saw Baucis changing in likemanner. And now a leafy crown had grown over their heads, whileexchanging parting words, as long as they could speak. "Farewell, dear spouse, " they said, together, and at the same moment the barkclosed over their mouths. The Tyanean shepherd still shows the twotrees, standing side by side, made out of the two good old people. 

The story of Baucis and Philemon has been imitated by Swift, in aburlesque style, the actors in the change being two wanderingsaints, and the house being changed into a church, of whichPhilemon is made the parson. The following may serve as aspecimen:

 "They scarce had spoke, when, fair and soft, The roof began to mount aloft; Aloft rose every beam and rafter; The heavy wall climbed slowly after. The chimney widened and grew higher, Became a steeple with a spire. The kettle to the top was hoist. And there stood fastened to a joist, But with the upside down, to show Its inclination for below; In vain, for a superior force, Applied at bottom, stops its course; Doomed ever in suspense to dwell, 'Tis now no kettle, but a bell. A wooden jack, which had almost Lost by disuse the art to roast, A sudden alteration feels Increased by new intestine wheels; And, what exalts the wonder more. The number made the motion slower; The flier, though't had leaden feet, Turned round so quick you scarce could see't; But slackened by some secret power, Now hardly moves an inch an hour. The jack and chimney, near allied, Had never left each other's side: The chimney to a steeple grown, The jack would not be left alone; But up against the steeple reared, Became a clock, and still adhered; And still its love to household cares By a shrill voice at noon declares, Warning the cook-maid not to burn That roast meat which it cannot turn; The groaning chair began to crawl, Like a huge snail, along the wall; There stuck aloft in public view, And with small change, a pulpit grew. A bedstead of the antique mode, Compact of timber many a load, Such as our ancestors did use, Was metamorphosed into pews, Which still their ancient nature keep By lodging folks disposed to sleep. "

CHAPTER VII

PROSERPINE--GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA

When Jupiter and his brothers had defeated the Titans and banishedthem to Tartarus, a new enemy rose up against the gods. They werethe giants Typhon, Briareus, Enceladus, and others. Some of themhad a hundred arms, others breathed out fire. They were finallysubdued and buried alive under Mount Aetna, where they stillsometimes struggle to get loose, and shake the whole island withearthquakes. Their breath comes up through the mountain, and iswhat men call the eruption of the volcano. 

The fall of these monsters shook the earth, so that Pluto wasalarmed, and feared that his kingdom would be laid open to thelight of day. Under this apprehension, he mounted his chariot, drawn by black horses, and took a circuit of inspection to satisfyhimself of the extent of the damage. While he was thus engaged, Venus, who was sitting on Mount Eryx playing with her boy Cupid, espied him, and said, "My son, take your darts with which youconquer all, even Jove himself, and send one into the breast ofyonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of Tartarus. Why shouldhe alone escape? Seize the opportunity to extend your empire andmine. Do you not see that even in heaven some despise our power?Minerva the wise, and Diana the huntress, defy us; and there isthat daughter of Ceres, who threatens to follow their example. Nowdo you, if you have any regard for your own interest or mine, jointhese two in one. " The boy unbound his quiver, and selected hissharpest and truest arrow; then straining the bow against hisknee, he attached the string, and, having made ready, shot thearrow with its barbed point right into the heart of Pluto. 

In the vale of Enna there is a lake embowered in woods, whichscreen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist groundis covered with flowers, and Spring reigns perpetual. HereProserpine was playing with her companions, gathering lilies andviolets, and filling her basket and her apron with them, whenPluto saw her, loved her, and carried her off. She screamed forhelp to her mother and companions; and when in her fright shedropped the corners of her apron and let the flowers fall, childlike she felt the loss of them as an addition to her grief. The ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them each by name, andthrowing loose over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins. When he reached the River Cyane, and it opposed his passage, hestruck the river-bank with his trident, and the earth opened andgave him a passage to Tartarus. 

Ceres sought her daughter all the world over. Bright-hairedAurora, when she came forth in the morning, and Hesperus when heled out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in thesearch. But it was all unavailing. At length, weary and sad, shesat down upon a stone, and continued sitting nine days and nights, in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and fallingshowers. It was where now stands the city of Eleusis, then thehome of an old man named Celeus. He was out in the field, gathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for his fire. Hislittle girl was driving home their two goats, and as she passedthe goddess, who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she saidto her, "Mother, "--and the name was sweet to the ears of Ceres, --"why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?" The old man alsostopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her to come intohis cottage, such as it was. She declined, and he urged her. "Goin peace, " she replied, "and be happy in your daughter; I havelost mine. " As she spoke, tears--or something like tears, for thegods never weep--fell down her cheeks upon her bosom. Thecompassionate old man and his child wept with her. Then said he, "Come with us, and despise not our humble roof; so may yourdaughter be restored to you in safety. " "Lead on, " said she, "Icannot resist that appeal!" So she rose from the stone and wentwith them. As they walked he told her that his only son, a littleboy, lay very sick, feverish, and sleepless. She stooped andgathered some poppies. As they entered the cottage, they found allin great distress, for the boy seemed past hope of recovery. Metanira, his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stoopedand kissed the lips of the sick child. Instantly the paleness lefthis face, and healthy vigor returned to his body. The whole familywere delighted--that is, the father, mother, and little girl, forthey were all; they had no servants. They spread the table, andput upon it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. Whilethey ate, Ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. Whennight came and all was still, she arose, and taking the sleepingboy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and uttered over him threetimes a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. Hismother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprangforward with a cry and snatched the child from the fire. ThenCeres assumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone allaround. While they were overcome with astonishment, she said, "Mother, you have been cruel in your fondness to your son. I wouldhave made him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt. Nevertheless, he shall be great and useful. He shall teach men theuse of the plough, and the rewards which labor can win from thecultivated soil. " So saying, she wrapped a cloud about her, andmounting her chariot rode away. 

Ceres continued her search for her daughter, passing from land toland, and across seas and rivers, till at length she returned toSicily, whence she at first set out, and stood by the banks of theRiver Cyane, where Pluto made himself a passage with his prize tohis own dominions. The river nymph would have told the goddess allshe had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of Pluto; so she onlyventured to take up the girdle which Proserpine had dropped in herflight, and waft it to the feet of the mother. Ceres, seeing this, was no longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know thecause, and laid the blame on the innocent land. "Ungrateful soil, "said she, "which I have endowed with fertility and clothed withherbage and nourishing grain, no more shall you enjoy my favors. "Then the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the seedfailed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too muchrain; the birds stole the seeds--thistles and brambles were theonly growth. Seeing this, the fountain Arethusa interceded for theland. "Goddess, " said she, "blame not the land; it openedunwillingly to yield a passage to your daughter. I can tell you ofher fate, for I have seen her. This is not my native country; Icame hither from Elis. I was a woodland nymph, and delighted inthe chase. They praised my beauty, but I cared nothing for it, andrather boasted of my hunting exploits. One day I was returningfrom the wood, heated with exercise, when I came to a streamsilently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on thebottom. The willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down tothe water's edge. I approached, I touched the water with my foot. I stepped in knee-deep, and not content with that, I laid mygarments on the willows and went in. While I sported in the water, I heard an indistinct murmur coming up as out of the depths of thestream: and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. The voicesaid, 'Why do you fly, Arethusa? I am Alpheus, the god of thisstream. ' I ran, he pursued; he was not more swift than I, but hewas stronger, and gained upon me, as my strength failed. At last, exhausted, I cried for help to Diana. 'Help me, goddess! help yourvotary!' The goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in a thickcloud. The river god looked now this way and now that, and twicecame close to me, but could not find me. 'Arethusa! Arethusa!' hecried. Oh, how I trembled, --like a lamb that hears the wolfgrowling outside the fold. A cold sweat came over me, my hairflowed down in streams; where my foot stood there was a pool. Inshort, in less time than it takes to tell it I became a fountain. But in this form Alpheus knew me and attempted to mingle hisstream with mine. Diana cleft the ground, and I, endeavoring toescape him, plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of theearth came out here in Sicily. While I passed through the lowerparts of the earth, I saw your Proserpine. She was sad, but nolonger showing alarm in her countenance. Her look was such asbecame a queen--the queen of Erebus; the powerful bride of themonarch of the realms of the dead. "

When Ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one stupefied;then turned her chariot towards heaven, and hastened to presentherself before the throne of Jove. She told the story of herbereavement, and implored Jupiter to interfere to procure therestitution of her daughter. Jupiter consented on one condition, namely, that Proserpine should not during her stay in the lowerworld have taken any food; otherwise, the Fates forbade herrelease. Accordingly, Mercury was sent, accompanied by Spring, todemand Proserpine of Pluto. The wily monarch consented; but, alas!the maiden had taken a pomegranate which Pluto offered her, andhad sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. This was enoughto prevent her complete release; but a compromise was made, bywhich she was to pass half the time with her mother, and the restwith her husband Pluto. 

Ceres allowed herself to be pacified with this arrangement, andrestored the earth to her favor. Now she remembered Celeus and hisfamily, and her promise to his infant son Triptolemus. When theboy grew up, she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sowthe seed. She took him in her chariot, drawn by winged dragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting to mankindvaluable grains, and the knowledge of agriculture. After hisreturn, Triptolemus built a magnificent temple to Ceres inEleusis, and established the worship of the goddess, under thename of the Eleusinian mysteries, which, in the splendor andsolemnity of their observance, surpassed all other religiouscelebrations among the Greeks. 

There can be little doubt of this story of Ceres and Proserpinebeing an allegory. Proserpine signifies the seed-corn which whencast into the ground lies there concealed--that is, she is carriedoff by the god of the underworld. It reappears--that is, Proserpine is restored to her mother. Spring leads her back to thelight of day. 

Milton alludes to the story of Proserpine in "Paradise Lost, " BookIV. :

 ". . . Not that fair field Of Enna where Proserpine gathering flowers, Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain To seek her through the world, -- ... Might with this Paradise Of Eden strive. "

Hood, in his "Ode to Melancholy, " uses the same allusion verybeautifully:

 "Forgive, if somewhile I forget, In woe to come the present bliss; As frighted Proserpine let fall Her flowers at the sight of Dis. "

The River Alpheus does in fact disappear underground, in part ofits course, finding its way through subterranean channels till itagain appears on the surface. It was said that the Sicilianfountain Arethusa was the same stream, which, after passing underthe sea, came up again in Sicily. Hence the story ran that a cupthrown into the Alpheus appeared again in Arethusa. It is thisfable of the underground course of Alpheus that Coleridge alludesto in his poem of "Kubla Khan":

 "In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree, Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man, Down to a sunless sea. "

In one of Moore's juvenile poems he thus alludes to the samestory, and to the practice of throwing garlands or other lightobjects on his stream to be carried downward by it, and afterwardsreproduced at its emerging:

 "O my beloved, how divinely sweet Is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet! Like him the river god, whose waters flow, With love their only light, through caves below, Wafting in triumph all the flowery braids And festal rings, with which Olympic maids Have decked his current, as an offering meet To lay at Arethusa's shining feet. Think, when he meets at last his fountain bride, What perfect love must thrill the blended tide! Each lost in each, till mingling into one, Their lot the same for shadow or for sun, A type of true love, to the deep they run. "

The following extract from Moore's "Rhymes on the Road" gives anaccount of a celebrated picture by Albano, at Milan, called aDance of Loves:

 "'Tis for the theft ef Enna's flower from earth These urchins celebrate their dance of mirth, Round the green tree, like fays upon a heath;-- Those that are nearest linked in order bright, Cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath; And those more distant showing from beneath The others' wings their little eyes of light. While see! among the clouds, their eldest brother, But just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss, This prank of Pluto to his charmed mother, Who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss. "

GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA

Glaucus was a fisherman. One day he had drawn his nets to land, and had taken a great many fishes of various kinds. So he emptiedhis net, and proceeded to sort the fishes on the grass. The placewhere he stood was a beautiful island in the river, a solitaryspot, uninhabited, and not used for pasturage of cattle, nor evervisited by any but himself. On a sudden, the fishes, which hadbeen laid on the grass, began to revive and move their fins as ifthey were in the water; and while he looked on astonished, theyone and all moved off to the water, plunged in, and swam away. Hedid not know what to make of this, whether some god had done it orsome secret power in the herbage. "What herb has such a power?" heexclaimed; and gathering some of it, he tasted it. Scarce had thejuices of the plant reached his palate when he found himselfagitated with a longing desire for the water. He could no longerrestrain himself, but bidding farewell to earth, he plunged intothe stream. The gods of the water received him graciously, andadmitted him to the honor of their society. They obtained theconsent of Oceanus and Tethys, the sovereigns of the sea, that allthat was mortal in him should be washed away. A hundred riverspoured their waters over him. Then he lost all sense of his formernature and all consciousness. When he recovered, he found himselfchanged in form and mind. His hair was sea-green, and trailedbehind him on the water; his shoulders grew broad, and what hadbeen thighs and legs assumed the form of a fish's tail. The sea-gods complimented him on the change of his appearance, and hefancied himself rather a good-looking personage. 

One day Glaucus saw the beautiful maiden Scylla, the favorite ofthe water-nymphs, rambling on the shore, and when she had found asheltered nook, laving her limbs in the clear water. He fell inlove with her, and showing himself on the surface, spoke to her, saying such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay;for she turned to run immediately on the sight of him, and rantill she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea. Here she stoppedand turned round to see whether it was a god or a sea animal, andobserved with wonder his shape and color. Glaucus partly emergingfrom the water, and supporting himself against a rock, said, "Maiden, I am no monster, nor a sea animal, but a god; and neitherProteus nor Triton ranks higher than I. Once I was a mortal, andfollowed the sea for a living; but now I belong wholly to it. "Then he told the story of his metamorphosis, and how he had beenpromoted to his present dignity, and added, "But what avails allthis if it fails to move your heart?" He was going on in thisstrain, but Scylla turned and hastened away. 

Glaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to consult theenchantress Circe. Accordingly he repaired to her island--the samewhere afterwards Ulysses landed, as we shall see in one of ourlater stories. After mutual salutations, he said, "Goddess, Ientreat your pity; you alone can relieve the pain I suffer. Thepower of herbs I know as well as any one, for it is to them I owemy change of form. I love Scylla. I am ashamed to tell you how Ihave sued and promised to her, and how scornfully she has treatedme. I beseech you to use your incantations, or potent herbs, ifthey are more prevailing, not to cure me of my love, --for that Ido not wish, --but to make her share it and yield me a likereturn. " To which Circe replied, for she was not insensible to theattractions of the sea-green deity, "You had better pursue awilling object; you are worthy to be sought, instead of having toseek in vain. Be not diffident, know your own worth. I protest toyou that even I, goddess though I be, and learned in the virtuesof plants and spells, should not know how to refuse you. If shescorns you scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet you half way, and thus make a due return to both at once. " To these wordsGlaucus replied, "Sooner shall trees grow at the bottom of theocean, and sea-weed on the top of the mountains, than I will ceaseto love Scylla, and her alone. "

The goddess was indignant, but she could not punish him, neitherdid she wish to do so, for she liked him too well; so she turnedall her wrath against her rival, poor Scylla. She took plants ofpoisonous powers and mixed them together, with incantations andcharms. Then she passed through the crowd of gambolling beasts, the victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast of Sicily, where Scylla lived. There was a little bay on the shore to whichScylla used to resort, in the heat of the day, to breathe the airof the sea, and to bathe in its waters. Here the goddess pouredher poisonous mixture, and muttered over it incantations of mightypower. Scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up to herwaist. What was her horror to perceive a brood of serpents andbarking monsters surrounding her! At first she could not imaginethey were a part of herself, and tried to run from them, and todrive them away; but as she ran she carried them with her, andwhen she tried to touch her limbs, she found her hands touch onlythe yawning jaws of monsters. Scylla remained rooted to the spot. Her temper grew as ugly as her form, and she took pleasure indevouring hapless mariners who came within her grasp. Thus shedestroyed six of the companions of Ulysses, and tried to wreck theships of Aeneas, till at last she was turned into a rock, and assuch still continues to be a terror to mariners. 

Keats, in his "Endymion, " has given a new version of the ending of"Glaucus and Scylla. " Glaucus consents to Circe's blandishments, till he by chance is witness to her transactions with her beasts. Disgusted with her treachery and cruelty, he tries to escape fromher, but is taken and brought back, when with reproaches shebanishes him, sentencing him to pass a thousand years indecrepitude and pain. He returns to the sea, and there finds thebody of Scylla, whom the goddess has not transformed but drowned. Glaucus learns that his destiny is that, if he passes his thousandyears in collecting all the bodies of drowned lovers, a youthbeloved of the gods will appear and help him. Endymion fulfilsthis prophecy, and aids in restoring Glaucus to youth, and Scyllaand all the drowned lovers to life. 

The following is Glaucus's account of his feelings after his "sea-change":

 "I plunged for life or death. To interknit One's senses with so dense a breathing stuff Might seem a work of pain; so not enough Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt, And buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt Whole days and days in sheer astonishment; Forgetful utterly of self-intent, Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. Then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, I tried in fear the pinions of my will. 'Twas freedom! and at once I visited The ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed, " etc. 

 --Keats. 

CHAPTER VIII

PYGMALION--DRYOPE-VENUS AND ADONIS--APOLLO AND HYACINTHUS

Pygmalion saw so much to blame in women that he came at last toabhor the sex, and resolved to live unmarried. He was a sculptor, and had made with wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so beautifulthat no living woman came anywhere near it. It was indeed theperfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be alive, and onlyprevented from moving by modesty. His art was so perfect that itconcealed itself and its product looked like the workmanship ofnature. Pygmalion admired his own work, and at last fell in lovewith the counterfeit creation. Oftentimes he laid his hand upon itas if to assure himself whether it were living or not, and couldnot even then believe that it was only ivory. He caressed it, andgave it presents such as young girls love, --bright shells andpolished stones, little birds and flowers of various hues, beadsand amber. He put raiment on its limbs, and jewels on its fingers, and a necklace about its neck. To the ears he hung earrings andstrings of pearls upon the breast. Her dress became her, and shelooked not less charming than when unattired. He laid her on acouch spread with cloths of Tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and put her head upon a pillow of the softest feathers, as if shecould enjoy their softness. 

The festival of Venus was at hand--a festival celebrated withgreat pomp at Cyprus. Victims were offered, the altars smoked, andthe odor of incense filled the air. When Pygmalion had performedhis part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidlysaid, "Ye gods, who can do all things, give me, I pray you, for mywife"--he dared not say "my ivory virgin, " but said instead--"onelike my ivory virgin. " Venus, who was present at the festival, heard him and knew the thought he would have uttered; and as anomen of her favor, caused the flame on the altar to shoot upthrice in a fiery point into the air. When he returned home, hewent to see his statue, and leaning over the couch, gave a kiss tothe mouth. It seemed to be warm. He pressed its lips again, helaid his hand upon the limbs; the ivory felt soft to his touch andyielded to his fingers like the wax of Hymettus. While he standsastonished and glad, though doubting, and fears he may bemistaken, again and again with a lover's ardor he touches theobject of his hopes. It was indeed alive! The veins when pressedyielded to the finger and again resumed their roundness. Then atlast the votary of Venus found words to thank the goddess, andpressed his lips upon lips as real as his own. The virgin felt thekisses and blushed, and opening her timid eyes to the light, fixedthem at the same moment on her lover. Venus blessed the nuptialsshe had formed, and from this union Paphos was born, from whom thecity, sacred to Venus, received its name. 

Schiller, in his poem the "Ideals, " applies this tale of Pygmalionto the love of nature in a youthful heart. The followingtranslation is furnished by a friend:

 "As once with prayers in passion flowing, Pygmalion embraced the stone, Till from the frozen marble glowing, The light of feeling o'er him shone, So did I clasp with young devotion Bright nature to a poet's heart; Till breath and warmth and vital motion Seemed through the statue form to dart. 

 "And then, in all my ardor sharing, The silent form expression found; Returned my kiss of youthful daring, And understood my heart's quick sound. Then lived for me the bright creation, The silver rill with song was rife; The trees, the roses shared sensation, An echo of my boundless life. "

 --S. G. B. 

DRYOPE

Dryope and Iole were sisters. The former was the wife ofAndraemon, beloved by her husband, and happy in the birth of herfirst child. One day the sisters strolled to the bank of a streamthat sloped gradually down to the water's edge, while the uplandwas overgrown with myrtles. They were intending to gather flowersfor forming garlands for the altars of the nymphs, and Dryopecarried her child at her bosom, precious burden, and nursed him asshe walked. Near the water grew a lotus plant, full of purpleflowers. Dryope gathered some and offered them to the baby, andIole was about to do the same, when she perceived blood droppingfrom the places where her sister had broken them off the stem. Theplant was no other than the nymph Lotis, who, running from a basepursuer, had been changed into this form. This they learned fromthe country people when it was too late. 

Dryope, horror-struck when she perceived what she had done, wouldgladly have hastened from the spot, but found her feet rooted tothe ground. She tried to pull them away, but moved nothing but herupper limbs. The woodiness crept upward, and by degrees investedher body. In anguish she attempted to tear her hair, but found herhands filled with leaves. The infant felt his mother's bosom beginto harden, and the milk cease to flow. Iole looked on at the sadfate of her sister, and could render no assistance. She embracedthe growing trunk, as if she would hold back the advancing wood, and would gladly have been enveloped in the same bark. At thismoment Andraemon, the husband of Dryope, with her father, approached; and when they asked for Dryope, Iole pointed them tothe new-formed lotus. They embraced the trunk of the yet warmtree, and showered their kisses on its leaves. 

Now there was nothing left of Dryope but her face. Her tears stillflowed and fell on her leaves, and while she could she spoke. "Iam not guilty. I deserve not this fate. I have injured no one. IfI speak falsely, may my foliage perish with drought and my trunkbe cut down and burned. Take this infant and give it to a nurse. Let it often be brought and nursed under my branches, and play inmy shade; and when he is old enough to talk, let him be taught tocall me mother, and to say with sadness, 'My mother lies hid underthis bark. ' But bid him be careful of river banks, and beware howhe plucks flowers, remembering that every bush he sees may be agoddess in disguise. Farewell, dear husband, and sister, andfather. If you retain any love for me, let not the axe wound me, nor the flocks bite and tear my branches. Since I cannot stoop toyou, climb up hither and kiss me; and while my lips continue tofeel, lift up my child that I may kiss him. I can speak no more, for already the bark advances up my neck, and will soon shoot overme. You need not close my eyes, the bark will close them withoutyour aid. " Then the lips ceased to move, and life was extinct; butthe branches retained for some time longer the vital heat. 

Keats, in "Endymion, " alludes to Dryope thus:

 "She took a lute from which there pulsing came A lively prelude, fashioning the way In which her voice should wander. 'T was a lay More subtle-cadenced, more forest-wild Than Dryope's lone lulling of her child;" etc. 

VENUS AND ADONIS

Venus, playing one day with her boy Cupid, wounded her bosom withone of his arrows. She pushed him away, but the wound was deeperthan she thought. Before it healed she beheld Adonis, and wascaptivated with him. She no longer took any interest in herfavorite resorts--Paphos, and Cnidos, and Amathos, rich in metals. She absented herself even from heaven, for Adonis was dearer toher than heaven. Him she followed and bore him company. She whoused to love to recline in the shade, with no care but tocultivate her charms, now rambles through the woods and over thehills, dressed like the huntress Diana; and calls her dogs, andchases hares and stags, or other game that it is safe to hunt, butkeeps clear of the wolves and bears, reeking with the slaughter ofthe herd. She charged Adonis, too, to beware of such dangerousanimals. "Be brave towards the timid, " said she; "courage againstthe courageous is not safe. Beware how you expose yourself todanger and put my happiness to risk. Attack not the beasts thatNature has armed with weapons. I do not value your glory so highas to consent to purchase it by such exposure. Your youth, and thebeauty that charms Venus, will not touch the hearts of lions andbristly boars. Think of their terrible claws and prodigiousstrength! I hate the whole race of them. Do you ask me why?" Thenshe told him the story of Atalanta and Hippomenes, who werechanged into lions for their ingratitude to her. 

Having given him this warning, she mounted her chariot drawn byswans, and drove away through the air. But Adonis was too noble toheed such counsels. The dogs had roused a wild boar from his lair, and the youth threw his spear and wounded the animal with asidelong stroke. The beast drew out the weapon with his jaws, andrushed after Adonis, who turned and ran; but the boar overtookhim, and buried his tusks in his side, and stretched him dyingupon the plain. 

Venus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet reached Cyprus, whenshe heard coming up through mid-air the groans of her beloved, and turned her white-winged coursers back to earth. As she drewnear and saw from on high his lifeless body bathed in blood, shealighted and, bending over it, beat her breast and tore her hair. Reproaching the Fates, she said, "Yet theirs shall be but apartial triumph; memorials of my grief shall endure, and thespectacle of your death, my Adonis, and of my lamentations shallbe annually renewed. Your blood shall be changed into a flower;that consolation none can envy me. " Thus speaking, she sprinklednectar on the blood; and as they mingled, bubbles rose as in apool on which raindrops fall, and in an hour's time there sprangup a flower of bloody hue like that of the pomegranate. But it isshort-lived. It is said the wind blows the blossoms open, andafterwards blows the petals away; so it is called Anemone, or WindFlower, from the cause which assists equally in its production andits decay. 

Milton alludes to the story of Venus and Adonis in his "Comus":

 "Beds of hyacinth and roses Where young Adonis oft reposes, Waxing well of his deep wound In slumber soft, and on the ground Sadly sits th' Assyrian queen;" etc. 

APOLLO AND HYACINTHUS

Apollo was passionately fond of a youth named Hyacinthus. Heaccompanied him in his sports, carried the nets when he wentfishing, led the dogs when he went to hunt, followed him in hisexcursions in the mountains, and neglected for him his lyre andhis arrows. One day they played a game of quoits together, andApollo, heaving aloft the discus, with strength mingled withskill, sent it high and far. Hyacinthus watched it as it flew, andexcited with the sport ran forward to seize it, eager to make histhrow, when the quoit bounded from the earth and struck him in theforehead. He fainted and fell. The god, as pale as himself, raisedhim and tried all his art to stanch the wound and retain theflitting life, but all in vain; the hurt was past the power ofmedicine. As when one has broken the stem of a lily in the gardenit hangs its head and turns its flowers to the earth, so the headof the dying boy, as if too heavy for his neck, fell over on hisshoulder. "Thou diest, Hyacinth, " so spoke Phoebus, "robbed of thyyouth by me. Thine is the suffering, mine the crime. Would that Icould die for thee! But since that may not be, thou shalt livewith me in memory and in song. My lyre shall celebrate thee, mysong shall tell thy fate, and thou shalt become a flower inscribedwith my regrets. " While Apollo spoke, behold the blood which hadflowed on the ground and stained the herbage ceased to be blood;but a flower of hue more beautiful than the Tyrian sprang up, resembling the lily, if it were not that this is purple and thatsilvery white. [Footnote: It is evidently not our modern hyacinththat is here described. It is perhaps some species of iris, orperhaps of larkspur or of pansy. ] And this was not enough forPhoebus; but to confer still greater honor, he marked the petalswith his sorrow, and inscribed "Ah! ah!" upon them, as we see tothis day. The flower bears the name of Hyacinthus, and with everyreturning spring revives the memory of his fate. 

It was said that Zephyrus (the West wind), who was also fond ofHyacinthus and jealous of his preference of Apollo, blew the quoitout of its course to make it strike Hyacinthus. Keats alludes tothis in his "Endymion, " where he describes the lookers-on at thegame of quoits:

 "Or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent On either side, pitying the sad death Of Hyacinthus, when the cruel breath Of Zephyr slew him; Zephyr penitent, Who now ere Phoebus mounts the firmament, Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain. "

An allusion to Hyacinthus will also be recognized in Milton's"Lycidas":

 "Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. "

CHAPTER IX

CEYX AND HALCYONE: OR, THE HALCYON BIRDS

Ceyx was king of Thessaly, where he reigned in peace, withoutviolence or wrong. He was son of Hesperus, the Day-star, and theglow of his beauty reminded one of his father. Halcyone, thedaughter of Aeolus, was his wife, and devotedly attached to him. Now Ceyx was in deep affliction for the loss of his brother, anddireful prodigies following his brother's death made him feel asif the gods were hostile to him. He thought best, therefore, tomake a voyage to Carlos in Ionia, to consult the oracle of Apollo. But as soon as he disclosed his intention to his wife Halcyone, ashudder ran through her frame, and her face grew deadly pale. "What fault of mine, dearest husband, has turned your affectionfrom me? Where is that love of me that used to be uppermost inyour thoughts? Have you learned to feel easy in the absence ofHalcyone? Would you rather have me away?" She also endeavored todiscourage him, by describing the violence of the winds, which shehad known familiarly when she lived at home in her father'shouse, --Aeolus being the god of the winds, and having as much ashe could do to restrain them. "They rush together, " said she, "with such fury that fire flashes from the conflict. But if youmust go, " she added, "dear husband, let me go with you, otherwiseI shall suffer not only the real evils which you must encounter, but those also which my fears suggest. "

These words weighed heavily on the mind of King Ceyx, and it wasno less his own wish than hers to take her with him, but he couldnot bear to expose her to the dangers of the sea. He answered, therefore, consoling her as well as he could, and finished withthese words: "I promise, by the rays of my father the Day-star, that if fate permits I will return before the moon shall havetwice rounded her orb. " When he had thus spoken, he ordered thevessel to be drawn out of the shiphouse, and the oars and sails tobe put aboard. When Halcyone saw these preparations she shuddered, as if with a presentiment of evil. With tears and sobs she saidfarewell, and then fell senseless to the ground. 

Ceyx would still have lingered, but now the young men graspedtheir oars and pulled vigorously through the waves, with long andmeasured strokes. Halcyone raised her streaming eyes, and saw herhusband standing on the deck, waving his hand to her. She answeredhis signal till the vessel had receded so far that she could nolonger distinguish his form from the rest. When the vessel itselfcould no more be seen, she strained her eyes to catch the lastglimmer of the sail, till that too disappeared. Then, retiring toher chamber, she threw herself on her solitary couch. 

Meanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the breeze plays amongthe ropes. The seamen draw in their oars, and hoist their sails. When half or less of their course was passed, as night drew on, the sea began to whiten with swelling waves, and the east wind toblow a gale. The master gave the word to take in sail, but thestorm forbade obedience, for such is the roar of the winds andwaves his orders are unheard. The men, of their own accord, busythemselves to secure the oars, to strengthen the ship, to reef thesail. While they thus do what to each one seems best, the stormincreases. The shouting of the men, the rattling of the shrouds, and the dashing of the waves, mingle with the roar of the thunder. The swelling sea seems lifted up to the heavens, to scatter itsfoam among the clouds; then sinking away to the bottom assumes thecolor of the shoal--a Stygian blackness. 

The vessel shares all these changes. It seems like a wild beastthat rushes on the spears of the hunters. Rain falls in torrents, as if the skies were coming down to unite with the sea. When thelightning ceases for a moment, the night seems to add its owndarkness to that of the storm; then comes the flash, rending thedarkness asunder, and lighting up all with a glare. Skill fails, courage sinks, and death seems to come on every wave. The men arestupefied with terror. The thought of parents, and kindred, andpledges left at home, comes over their minds. Ceyx thinks ofHalcyone. No name but hers is on his lips, and while he yearns forher, he yet rejoices in her absence. Presently the mast isshattered by a stroke of lightning, the rudder broken, and thetriumphant surge curling over looks down upon, the wreck, thenfalls, and crushes it to fragments. Some of the seamen, stunned bythe stroke, sink, and rise no more; others cling to fragments ofthe wreck. Ceyx, with the hand that used to grasp the sceptre, holds fast to a plank, calling for help, --alas, in vain, --upon hisfather and his father-in-law. But oftenest on his lips was thename of Halcyone. To her his thoughts cling. He prays that thewaves may bear his body to her sight, and that it may receiveburial at her hands. At length the waters overwhelm him, and hesinks. The Day-star looked dim that night. Since it could notleave the heavens, it shrouded its face with clouds. 

In the meanwhile Halcyone, ignorant of all these horrors, countedthe days till her husband's promised return. Now she gets readythe garments which he shall put on, and now what she shall wearwhen he arrives. To all the gods she offers frequent incense, butmore than all to Juno. For her husband, who was no more, sheprayed incessantly: that he might be safe; that he might comehome; that he might not, in his absence, see any one that he wouldlove better than her. But of all these prayers, the last was theonly one destined to be granted. The goddess, at length, could notbear any longer to be pleaded with for one already dead, and tohave hands raised to her altars that ought rather to be offeringfuneral rites. So, calling Iris, she said, "Iris, my faithfulmessenger, go to the drowsy dwelling of Somnus, and tell him tosend a vision to Halcyone in the form of Ceyx, to make known toher the event. "

Iris puts on her robe of many colors, and tingeing the sky withher bow, seeks the palace of the King of Sleep. Near the Cimmeriancountry, a mountain cave is the abode of the dull god Somnus. HerePhoebus dares not come, either rising, at midday, or setting. Clouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and the lightglimmers faintly. The bird of dawning, with crested head, neverthere calls aloud to Aurora, nor watchful dog, nor more sagaciousgoose disturbs the silence. No wild beast, nor cattle, nor branchmoved with the wind, nor sound of human conversation, breaks thestillness. Silence reigns there; but from the bottom of the rockthe River Lethe flows, and by its murmur invites to sleep. Poppiesgrow abundantly before the door of the cave, and other herbs, fromwhose juices Night collects slumbers, which she scatters over thedarkened earth. There is no gate to the mansion, to creak on itshinges, nor any watchman; but in the midst a couch of black ebony, adorned with black plumes and black curtains. There the godreclines, his limbs relaxed with sleep. Around him lie dreams, resembling all various forms, as many as the harvest bears stalks, or the forest leaves, or the seashore sand grains. 

As soon as the goddess entered and brushed away the dreams thathovered around her, her brightness lit up all the cave. The god, scarce opening his eyes, and ever and anon dropping his beard uponhis breast, at last shook himself free from himself, and leaningon his arm, inquired her errand, --for he knew who she was. Sheanswered, "Somnus, gentlest of the gods, tranquillizer of mindsand soother of care-worn hearts, Juno sends you her commands thatyou despatch a dream to Halcyone, in the city of Trachine, representing her lost husband and all the events of the wreck. "

Having delivered her message, Iris hasted away, for she could notlonger endure the stagnant air, and as she felt drowsinesscreeping over her, she made her escape, and returned by her bowthe way she came. Then Somnus called one of his numerous sons, --Morpheus, --the most expert in counterfeiting forms, and inimitating the walk, the countenance, and mode of speaking, eventhe clothes and attitudes most characteristic of each. But he onlyimitates men, leaving it to another to personate birds, beasts, and serpents. Him they call Icelos; and Phantasos is a third, whoturns himself into rocks, waters, woods, and other things withoutlife. These wait upon kings and great personages in their sleepinghours, while others move among the common people. Somnus chose, from all the brothers, Morpheus, to perform the command of Iris;then laid his head on his pillow and yielded himself to gratefulrepose. 

Morpheus flew, making no noise with his wings, and soon came tothe Haemonian city, where, laying aside his wings, he assumed theform of Ceyx. Under that form, but pale like a dead man, naked, hestood before the couch of the wretched wife. His beard seemedsoaked with water, and water trickled from his drowned locks. Leaning over the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, he said, "Doyou recognize your Ceyx, unhappy wife, or has death too muchchanged my visage? Behold me, know me, your husband's shade, instead of himself. Your prayers, Halcyone, availed me nothing. Iam dead. No more deceive yourself with vain hopes of my return. The stormy winds sunk my ship in the Aegean Sea, waves filled mymouth while it called aloud on you. No uncertain messenger tellsyou this, no vague rumor brings it to your ears. I come in person, a shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate. Arise! give me tears, giveme lamentations, let me not go down to Tartarus unwept. " To thesewords Morpheus added the voice, which seemed to be that of herhusband; he seemed to pour forth genuine tears; his hands had thegestures of Ceyx. 

Halcyone, weeping, groaned, and stretched out her arms in hersleep, striving to embrace his body, but grasping only the air. "Stay!" she cried; "whither do you fly? let us go together. " Herown voice awakened her. Starting up, she gazed eagerly around, tosee if he was still present, for the servants, alarmed by hercries, had brought a light. When she found him not, she smote herbreast and rent her garments. She cares not to unbind her hair, but tears it wildly. Her nurse asks what is the cause of hergrief. "Halcyone is no more, " she answers, "she perished with herCeyx. Utter not words of comfort, he is shipwrecked and dead. Ihave seen him, I have recognized him. I stretched out my hands toseize him and detain him. His shade vanished, but it was the trueshade of my husband. Not with the accustomed features, not withthe beauty that was his, but pale, naked, and with his hair wetwith sea-water, he appeared to wretched me. Here, in this veryspot, the sad vision stood, "--and she looked to find the mark ofhis footsteps. "This it was, this that my presaging mindforeboded, when I implored him not to leave me, to trust himselfto the waves. Oh, how I wish, since thou wouldst go, thou hadsttaken me with thee! It would have been far better. Then I shouldhave had no remnant of life to spend without thee, nor a separatedeath to die. If I could bear to live and struggle to endure, Ishould be more cruel to myself than the sea has been to me. But Iwill not struggle, I will not be separated from thee, unhappyhusband. This time, at least, I will keep thee company. In death, if one tomb may not include us, one epitaph shall; if I may notlay my ashes with thine, my name, at least, shall not beseparated. " Her grief forbade more words, and these were brokenwith tears and sobs. 

It was now morning. She went to the seashore, and sought the spotwhere she last saw him, on his departure. "While he lingered here, and cast off his tacklings, he gave me his last kiss. " While shereviews every object, and strives to recall every incident, looking out over the sea, she descries an indistinct objectfloating in the water. At first she was in doubt what it was, butby degrees the waves bore it nearer, and it was plainly the bodyof a man. Though unknowing of whom, yet, as it was of someshipwrecked one, she was deeply moved, and gave it her tears, saying, "Alas! unhappy one, and unhappy, if such there be, thywife!" Borne by the waves, it came nearer. As she more and morenearly views it, she trembles more and more. Now, now itapproaches the shore. Now marks that she recognizes appear. It isher husband! Stretching out her trembling hands towards it, sheexclaims, "O dearest husband, is it thus you return to me?"

There was built out from the shore a mole, constructed to breakthe assaults of the sea, and stem its violent ingress. She leapedupon this barrier and (it was wonderful she could do so) she flew, and striking the air with wings produced on the instant, skimmedalong the surface of the water, an unhappy bird. As she flew, herthroat poured forth sounds full of grief, and like the voice ofone lamenting. When she touched the mute and bloodless body, sheenfolded its beloved limbs with her new-formed wings, and tried togive kisses with her horny beak. Whether Ceyx felt it, or whetherit was only the action of the waves, those who looked on doubted, but the body seemed to raise its head. But indeed he did feel it, and by the pitying gods both of them were changed into birds. Theymate and have their young ones. For seven placid days, in wintertime, Halcyone broods over her nest, which floats upon the sea. Then the way is safe to seamen. Aeolus guards the winds and keepsthem from disturbing the deep. The sea is given up, for the time, to his grandchildren. 

The following lines from Byron's "Bride of Abydos" might seemborrowed from the concluding part of this description, if it werenot stated that the author derived the suggestion from observingthe motion of a floating corpse:

 "As shaken on his restless pillow, His head heaves with the heaving billow, That hand, whose motion is not life, Yet feebly seems to menace strife, Flung by the tossing tide on high, Then levelled with the wave ... "

Milton in his "Hymn on the Nativity, " thus alludes to the fable ofthe Halcyon:

 "But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of light His reign of peace upon the earth began; The winds with wonder whist Smoothly the waters kist Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. "

Keats, also, in "Endymion, " says:

 "O magic sleep! O comfortable bird That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hushed and smooth. "

CHAPTER X

VERTUMNUS AND POMONA

The Hamadryads were Wood-nymphs. Pomona was of this class, and noone excelled her in love of the garden and the culture of fruit. She cared not for orests and rivers, but loved the cultivatedcountry, and trees that bear delicious apples. Her right hand borefor its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning-knife. Armed withthis, she busied herself at one time to repress the too luxuriantgrowths, and curtail the branches that straggled out of place; atanother, to split the twig and insert therein a graft, making thebranch adopt a nursling not its own. She took care, too, that herfavorites should not suffer from drought, and led streams of waterby them, that the thirsty roots might drink. This occupation washer pursuit, her passion; and she was free from that which Venusinspires. She was not without fear of the country people, and kepther orchard locked, and allowed not men to enter. The Fauns andSatyrs would have given all they possessed to win her, and sowould old Sylvanus, who looks young for his years, and Pan, whowears a garland of pine leaves around his head. But Vertumnusloved her best of all; yet he sped no better than the rest. O howoften, in the disguise of a reaper, did he bring her corn in abasket, and looked the very image of a reaper! With a hay bandtied round him, one would think he had just come from turning overthe grass. Sometimes he would have an ox-goad in his hand, and youwould have said he had just unyoked his weary oxen. Now he bore apruning-hook, and personated a vine-dresser; and again, with aladder on his shoulder, he seemed as if he was going to gatherapples. Sometimes he trudged along as a discharged soldier, andagain he bore a fishing-rod, as if going to fish. In this way hegained admission to her again and again, and fed his passion withthe sight of her. 

One day he came in the guise of an old woman, her gray hairsurmounted with a cap, and a staff in her hand. She entered thegarden and admired the fruit. "It does you credit, my dear, " shesaid, and kissed her, not exactly with an old woman's kiss. Shesat down on a bank, and looked up at the branches laden with fruitwhich hung over her. Opposite was an elm entwined with a vineloaded with swelling grapes. She praised the tree and itsassociated vine, equally. "But, " said she, "if the tree stoodalone, and had no vine clinging to it, it would have nothing toattract or offer us but its useless leaves. And equally the vine, if it were not twined round the elm, would lie prostrate on theground. Why will you not take a lesson from the tree and the vine, and consent to unite yourself with some one? I wish you would. Helen herself had not more numerous suitors, nor Penelope, thewife of shrewd Ulysses. Even while you spurn them, they courtyou, --rural deities and others of every kind that frequent thesemountains. But if you are prudent and want to make a goodalliance, and will let an old woman advise you, --who loves youbetter than you have any idea of, --dismiss all the rest andaccept Vertumnus, on my recommendation. I know him as well as heknows himself. He is not a wandering deity, but belongs to thesemountains. Nor is he like too many of the lovers nowadays, wholove any one they happen to see; he loves you, and you only. Addto this, he is young and handsome, and has the art of assuming anyshape he pleases, and can make himself just what you command him. Moreover, he loves the same things that you do, delights ingardening, and handles your apples with admiration. But NOW hecares nothing for fruits nor flowers, nor anything else, but onlyyourself. Take pity on him, and fancy him speaking now with mymouth. Remember that the gods punish cruelty, and that Venus hatesa hard heart, and will visit such offences sooner or later. Toprove this, let me tell you a story, which is well known in Cyprusto be a fact; and I hope it will have the effect to make you moremerciful. 

"Iphis was a young man of humble parentage, who saw and lovedAnaxarete, a noble lady of the ancient family of Teucer. Hestruggled long with his passion, but when he found he could notsubdue it, he came a suppliant to her mansion. First he told hispassion to her nurse, and begged her as she loved her foster-childto favor his suit. And then he tried to win her domestics to hisside. Sometimes he committed his vows to written tablets, andoften hung at her door garlands which he had moistened with histears. He stretched himself on her threshold, and uttered hiscomplaints to the cruel bolts and bars. She was deafer than thesurges which rise in the November gale; harder than steel from theGerman forges, or a rock that still clings to its native cliff. She mocked and laughed at him, adding cruel words to her ungentletreatment, and gave not the slightest gleam of hope. 

"Iphis could not any longer endure the torments of hopeless love, and, standing before her doors, he spake these last words:'Anaxarete, you have conquered, and shall no longer have to bearmy importunities. Enjoy your triumph! Sing songs of joy, and bindyour forehead with laurel, --you have conquered! I die; stonyheart, rejoice! This at least I can do to gratify you and forceyou to praise me; and thus shall I prove that the love of you leftme but with life. Nor will I leave it to rumor to tell you of mydeath. I will come myself, and you shall see me die, and feastyour eyes on the spectacle. Yet, O ye gods, who look down onmortal woes, observe my fate! I ask but this: let me be rememberedin coming ages, and add those years to my fame which you have reftfrom my life. Thus he said, and, turning his pale face and weepingeyes towards her mansion, he fastened a rope to the gatepost, onwhich he had often hung garlands, and putting his head into thenoose, he murmured, 'This garland at least will please you, cruelgirl!' and falling hung suspended with his neck broken. As he fellhe struck against the gate, and the sound was as the sound of agroan. The servants opened the door and found him dead, and withexclamations of pity raised him and carried him home to hismother, for his father was not living. She received the dead bodyof her son, and folded the cold form to her bosom, while shepoured forth the sad words which bereaved mothers utter. Themournful funeral passed through the town, and the pale corpse wasborne on a bier to the place of the funeral pile. By chance thehome of Anaxarete was on the street where the procession passed, and the lamentations of the mourners met the ears of her whom theavenging deity had already marked for punishment. 

"'Let us see this sad procession, ' said she, and mounted to aturret, whence through an open window she looked upon the funeral. Scarce had her eyes rested upon the form of Iphis stretched on thebier, when they began to stiffen, and the warm blood in her bodyto become cold. Endeavoring to step back, she found she could notmove her feet; trying to turn away her face, she tried in vain;and by degrees all her limbs became stony like her heart. That youmay not doubt the fact, the statue still remains, and stands inthe temple of Venus at Salamis, in the exact form of the lady. Nowthink of these things, my dear, and lay aside your scorn and yourdelays, and accept a lover. So may neither the vernal frostsblight your young fruits, nor furious winds scatter yourblossoms!"

When Vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the disguise of an oldwoman, and stood before her in his proper person, as a comelyyouth. It appeared to her like the sun bursting through a cloud. He would have renewed his entreaties, but there was no need; hisarguments and the sight of his true form prevailed, and the Nymphno longer resisted, but owned a mutual flame. 

Pomona was the especial patroness of the Apple-orchard, and assuch she was invoked by Phillips, the author of a poem on Cider, in blank verse. Thomson in the "Seasons" alludes to him:

 "Phillips, Pomona's bard, the second thou Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse, With British freedom, sing the British song. "

But Pomona was also regarded as presiding over other fruits, andas such is invoked by Thomson:

 "Bear me, Pomona, to thy citron groves, To where the lemon and the piercing lime, With the deep orange, glowing through the green, Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined Beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, Fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit. "

CHAPTER XI

CUPID AND PSYCHE

A certain king and queen had three daughters. The charms of thetwo elder were more than common, but the beauty of the youngestwas so wonderful that the poverty of language is unable to expressits due praise. The fame of her beauty was so great that strangersfrom neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy the sight, andlooked on her with amazement, paying her that homage which is dueonly to Venus herself. In fact Venus found her altars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young virgin. As shepassed along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her waywith chaplets and flowers. 

This perversion of homage due only to the immortal powers to theexaltation of a mortal gave great offence to the real Venus. Shaking her ambrosial locks with indignation, she exclaimed, "Am Ithen to be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl? In vain thendid that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jovehimself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, Pallas and Juno. But she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. Iwill give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty. "

Thereupon she calls her winged son Cupid, mischievous enough inhis own nature, and rouses and provokes him yet more by hercomplaints. She points out Psyche to him and says, "My dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give thy mother a revenge assweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of thathaughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so thatshe may reap a mortification as great as her present exultationand triumph. "

Cupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother. There are twofountains in Venus's garden, one of sweet waters, the other ofbitter. Cupid filled two amber vases, one from each fountain, andsuspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to thechamber of Psyche, whom he found asleep. He shed a few drops fromthe bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her almostmoved him to pity; then touched her side with the point of hisarrow. At the touch she awoke, and opened eyes upon Cupid (himselfinvisible), which so startled him that in his confusion he woundedhimself with his own arrow. Heedless of his wound, his wholethought now was to repair the mischief he had done, and he pouredthe balmy drops of joy over all her silken ringlets. 

Psyche, henceforth frowned upon by Venus, derived no benefit fromall her charms. True, all eyes were cast eagerly upon her, andevery mouth spoke her praises; but neither king, royal youth, norplebeian presented himself to demand her in marriage. Her twoelder sisters of moderate charms had now long been married to tworoyal princes; but Psyche, in her lonely apartment, deplored hersolitude, sick of that beauty which, while it procured abundanceof flattery, had failed to awaken love. 

Her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred the angerof the gods, consulted the oracle of Apollo, and received thisanswer: "The virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. Her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. He is amonster whom neither gods nor men can resist. "

This dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people withdismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to grief. But Psychesaid, "Why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? You shouldrather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeservedhonors, and with one voice called me a Venus. I now perceive thatI am a victim to that name. I submit. Lead me to that rock towhich my unhappy fate has destined me. " Accordingly, all thingsbeing prepared, the royal maid took her place in the procession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with herparents, amid the lamentations of the people, ascended themountain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and withsorrowful hearts returned home. 

While Psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with fearand with eyes full of tears, the gentle Zephyr raised her from theearth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery dale. Bydegrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on thegrassy bank to sleep. When she awoke refreshed with sleep, shelooked round and beheld near by a pleasant grove of tall andstately trees. She entered it, and in the midst discovered afountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and fast by, amagnificent palace whose august front impressed the spectator thatit was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of somegod. Drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the buildingand ventured to enter. Every object she met filled her withpleasure and amazement. Golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintingsrepresenting beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted todelight the eye of the beholder. Proceeding onward, she perceivedthat besides the apartments of state there were others filled withall manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions ofnature and art. 

While her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, thoughshe saw no one, uttering these words: "Sovereign lady, all thatyou see is yours. We whose voices you hear are your servants andshall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence. Retire, therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit repair to the bath. Supper awaits you in theadjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there. "

Psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, andafter repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself inthe alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, withoutany visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with thegreatest delicacies of food and the most nectareous wines. Herears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; ofwhom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in thewonderful harmony of a full chorus. 

She had not yet seen her destined husband. He came only in thehours of darkness and fled before the dawn of morning, but hisaccents were full of love, and inspired a like passion in her. Sheoften begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would notconsent. On the contrary he charged her to make no attempt to seehim, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to keepconcealed. "Why should you wish to behold me?" he said; "have youany doubt of my love? have you any wish ungratified? If you sawme, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all I ask ofyou is to love me. I would rather you would love me as an equalthan adore me as a god. "

This reasoning somewhat quieted Psyche for a time, and while thenovelty lasted she felt quite happy. But at length the thought ofher parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but asplendid prison. When her husband came one night, she told him herdistress, and at last drew from him an unwilling consent that hersisters should be brought to see her. 

So, calling Zephyr, she acquainted him with her husband'scommands, and he, promptly obedient, soon brought them across themountain down to their sister's valley. They embraced her and shereturned their caresses. "Come, " said Psyche, "enter with me myhouse and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister has tooffer. " Then taking their hands she led them into her goldenpalace, and committed them to the care of her numerous train ofattendant voices, to refresh them in her baths and at her table, and to show them all her treasures. The view of these celestialdelights caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their youngsister possessed of such state and splendor, so much exceedingtheir own. 

They asked her numberless questions, among others what sort of aperson her husband was. Psyche replied that he was a beautifulyouth, who generally spent the daytime in hunting upon themountains. The sisters, not satisfied with this reply, soon madeher confess that she had never seen him. Then they proceeded tofill her bosom with dark suspicions. "Call to mind, " they said, "the Pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry a direfuland tremendous monster. The inhabitants of this valley say thatyour husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, who nourishesyou for a while with dainties that he may by and by devour you. Take our advice. Provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife;put them in concealment that your husband may not discover them, and when he is sound asleep, slip out of bed, bring forth yourlamp, and see for yourself whether what they say is true or not. If it is, hesitate not to cut off the monster's head, and therebyrecover your liberty. "

Psyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could, but theydid not fail to have their effect on her mind, and when hersisters were gone, their words and her own curiosity were toostrong for her to resist. So she prepared her lamp and a sharpknife, and hid them out of sight of her husband. When he hadfallen into his first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering herlamp beheld not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful andcharming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering over hissnowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy wings on hisshoulders, whiter than snow, and with shining feathers like thetender blossoms of spring. As she leaned the lamp over to have anearer view of his face a drop of burning oil fell on the shoulderof the god, startled with which he opened his eyes and fixed themfull upon her; then, without saying one word, he spread his whitewings and flew out of the window. Psyche, in vain endeavoring tofollow him, fell from the window to the ground. Cupid, beholdingher as she lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant andsaid, "O foolish Psyche, is it thus you repay my love? Afterhaving disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, willyou think me a monster and cut off my head? But go; return to yoursisters, whose advice you seem to think preferable to mine. Iinflict no other punishment on you than to leave you forever. Lovecannot dwell with suspicion. " So saying, he fled away, leavingpoor Psyche prostrate on the ground, filling the place withmournful lamentations. 

When she had recovered some degree of composure she looked aroundher, but the palace and gardens had vanished, and she foundherself in the open field not far from the city where her sistersdwelt. She repaired thither and told them the whole story of hermisfortunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spitefulcreatures inwardly rejoiced. "For now, " said they, "he willperhaps choose one of us. " With this idea, without saying a wordof her intentions, each of them rose early the next morning andascended the mountains, and having reached the top, called uponZephyr to receive her and bear her to his lord; then leaping up, and not being sustained by Zephyr, fell down the precipice and wasdashed to pieces. 

Psyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without food or repose, in search of her husband. Casting her eyes on a lofty mountainhaving on its brow a magnificent temple, she sighed and said toherself, "Perhaps my love, my lord, inhabits there, " and directedher steps thither. 

She had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of corn, some inloose ears and some in sheaves, with mingled ears of barley. Scattered about, lay sickles and rakes, and all the instruments ofharvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly out of the wearyreapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day. 

This unseemly confusion the pious Psyche put an end to, byseparating and sorting everything to its proper place and kind, believing that she ought to neglect none of the gods, but endeavorby her piety to engage them all in her behalf. The holy Ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thusspoke to her: "O Psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though I cannotshield you from the frowns of Venus, yet I can teach you how bestto allay her displeasure. Go, then, and voluntarily surrenderyourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty andsubmission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor willrestore you the husband you have lost. "

Psyche obeyed the commands of Ceres and took her way to the templeof Venus, endeavoring to fortify her mind and ruminating on whatshe should say and how best propitiate the angry goddess, feelingthat the issue was doubtful and perhaps fatal. 

Venus received her with angry countenance. "Most undutiful andfaithless of servants, " said she, "do you at last remember thatyou really have a mistress? Or have you rather come to see yoursick husband, yet laid up of the wound given him by his lovingwife? You are so ill-favored and disagreeable that the only wayyou can merit your lover must be by dint of industry anddiligence. I will make trial of your housewifery. " Then sheordered Psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple, wherewas laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her pigeons, and said, "Take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kindin a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done beforeevening. " Then Venus departed and left her to her task. 

But Psyche, in a perfect consternation at the enormous work, satstupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricableheap. 

While she sat despairing, Cupid stirred up the little ant, anative of the fields, to take compassion on her. The leader of theant hill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence, taking grainby grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to itsparcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in amoment. 

Venus at the approach of twilight returned from the banquet of thegods, breathing odors and crowned with roses. Seeing the taskdone, she exclaimed, "This is no work of yours, wicked one, buthis, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed. " Sosaying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper andwent away. 

Next morning Venus ordered Psyche to be called and said to her, "Behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of thewater. There you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, withgolden-shining fleeces on their backs. Go, fetch me a sample ofthat precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces. "

Psyche obediently went to the riverside, prepared to do her bestto execute the command. But the river god inspired the reeds withharmonious murmurs, which seemed to say, "O maiden, severelytried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among theformidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are underthe influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage todestroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth. But when thenoontide sun has driven the cattle to the shade, and the serenespirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross insafety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushesand the trunks of the trees. "

Thus the compassionate river god gave Psyche instructions how toaccomplish her task, and by observing his directions she soonreturned to Venus with her arms full of the golden fleece; but shereceived not the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said, "I know very well it is by none of your own doings that you havesucceeded in this task, and I am not satisfied yet that you haveany capacity to make yourself useful. But I have another task foryou. Here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to Proserpine and say, 'My mistress Venusdesires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tendingher sick son she has lost some of her own. ' Be not too long onyour errand, for I must paint myself with it to appear at thecircle of the gods and goddesses this evening. "

Psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at hand, beingobliged to go with her own feet directly down to Erebus. Wherefore, to make no delay of what was not to be avoided, shegoes to the top of a high tower to precipitate herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below. But a voicefrom the tower said to her, "Why, poor unlucky girl, dost thoudesign to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a manner? And whatcowardice makes thee sink under this last danger who hast been somiraculously supported in all thy former?" Then the voice told herhow by a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto, and howto avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by Cerberus, thethree-headed dog, and prevail on Charon, the ferryman, to take heracross the black river and bring her back again. But the voiceadded, "When Proserpine has given you the box filled with herbeauty, of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, thatyou never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosityto pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses. "

Psyche, encouraged by this advice, obeyed it in all things, andtaking heed to her ways travelled safely to the kingdom of Pluto. She was admitted to the palace of Proserpine, and withoutaccepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was offeredher, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she deliveredher message from Venus. Presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. Then she returned theway she came, and glad was she to come out once more into thelight of day. 

But having got so far successfully through her dangerous task, alonging desire seized her to examine the contents of the box. "What, " said she, "shall I, the carrier of this divine beauty, nottake the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more advantagein the eyes of my beloved husband!" So she carefully opened thebox, but found nothing there of any beauty at all, but an infernaland truly Stygian sleep, which being thus set free from itsprison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the midst ofthe road, a sleepy corpse without sense or motion. 

But Cupid, being now recovered from his wound, and not able longerto bear the absence of his beloved Psyche, slipping through thesmallest crack of the window of his chamber which happened to beleft open, flew to the spot where Psyche lay, and gathering up thesleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked Psychewith a light touch of one of his arrows. "Again, " said he, "hastthou almost perished by the same curiosity. But now performexactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and I will take careof the rest. "

Then Cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the heights ofheaven, presented himself before Jupiter with his supplication. Jupiter lent a favoring ear, and pleaded the cause of the loversso earnestly with Venus that he won her consent. On this he sentMercury to bring Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when shearrived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, "Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever break away from theknot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual. "

Thus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in due time theyhad a daughter born to them whose name was Pleasure. 

The fable of Cupid and Psyche is usually considered allegorical. The Greek name for a butterfly is Psyche, and the same word meansthe soul. There is no illustration of the immortality of the soulso striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliantwings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovelling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of dayand feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of thespring. Psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified bysufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoymentof true and pure happiness. 

In works of art Psyche is represented as a maiden with the wingsof a butterfly, along with Cupid, in the different situationsdescribed in the allegory. 

Milton alludes to the story of Cupid and Psyche in the conclusionof his "Comus":

 "Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced, Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced, After her wandering labors long, Till free consent the gods among Make her his eternal bride; And from her fair unspotted side Two blissful twins are to be born, Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn. "

The allegory of the story of Cupid and Psyche is well presented inthe beautiful lines of T. K. Harvey:

 "They wove bright fables in the days of old, When reason borrowed fancy's painted wings; When truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold, And told in song its high and mystic things! And such the sweet and solemn tale of her The pilgrim heart, to whom a dream was given, That led her through the world, --Love's worshipper, -- To seek on earth for him whose home was heaven!

 "In the full city, --by the haunted fount, -- Through the dim grotto's tracery of spars, -- 'Mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount, Where silence sits to listen to the stars; In the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove, The painted valley, and the scented air, She heard far echoes of the voice of Love, And found his footsteps' traces everywhere. 

 "But nevermore they met since doubts and fears, Those phantom shapes that haunt and blight the earth, Had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears, And that bright spirit of immortal birth; Until her pining soul and weeping eyes Had learned to seek him only in the skies; Till wings unto the weary heart were given, And she became Love's angel bride in heaven!"

The story of Cupid and Psyche first appears in the works ofApuleius, a writer of the second century of our era. It istherefore of much more recent date than most of the legends of theAge of Fable. It is this that Keats alludes to in his "Ode toPsyche":

 "O latest born and loveliest vision far Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy! Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-regioned star Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, Nor altar heaped with flowers; Nor virgin choir to make delicious moan Upon the midnight hours; No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet, From chain-swung censor teeming; No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming. "

In Moore's "Summer Fete" a fancy ball is described, in which oneof the characters personated is Psyche--

 "... Not in dark disguise to-night Hath our young heroine veiled her light;-- For see, she walks the earth, Love's own. His wedded bride, by holiest vow Pledged in Olympus, and made known To mortals by the type which now Hangs glittering on her snowy brow. That butterfly, mysterious trinket, Which means the soul, (though few would think it, ) And sparkling thus on brow so white Tells us we've Psyche here to-night. "

CHAPTER XII

CADMUS--THE MYRMIDONS

Jupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried away Europa, the daughter of Agenor, king of Phoenicia. Agenor commanded hisson Cadmus to go in search of his sister, and not to returnwithout her. Cadmus went and sought long and far for his sister, but could not find her, and not daring to return unsuccessful, consulted the oracle of Apollo to know what country he shouldsettle in. The oracle informed him that he should find a cow inthe field, and should follow her wherever she might wander, andwhere she stopped, should build a city and call it Thebes. Cadmushad hardly left the Castalian cave, from which the oracle wasdelivered, when he saw a young cow slowly walking before him. Hefollowed her close, offering at the same time his prayers toPhoebus. The cow went on till she passed the shallow channel ofCephisus and came out into the plain of Panope. There she stoodstill, and raising her broad forehead to the sky, filled the airwith her lowings. Cadmus gave thanks, and stooping down kissed theforeign soil, then lifting his eyes, greeted the surroundingmountains. Wishing to offer a sacrifice to Jupiter, he sent hisservants to seek pure water for a libation. Near by there stood anancient grove which had never been profaned by the axe, in themidst of which was a cave, thick covered with the growth ofbushes, its roof forming a low arch, from beneath which burstforth a fountain of purest water. In the cave lurked a horridserpent with a crested head and scales glittering like gold. Hiseyes shone like fire, his body was swollen with venom, he vibrateda triple tongue, and showed a triple row of teeth. No sooner hadthe Tyrians dipped their pitchers in the fountain, and the in-gushing waters made a sound, than the glittering serpent raisedhis head out of the cave and uttered a fearful hiss. The vesselsfell from their hands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembledin every limb. The serpent, twisting his scaly body in a hugecoil, raised his head so as to overtop the tallest trees, andwhile the Tyrians from terror could neither fight nor fly, slewsome with his fangs, others in his folds, and others with hispoisonous breath. 

Cadmus, having waited for the return of his men till midday, wentin search of them. His covering was a lion's hide, and besides hisjavelin he carried in his hand a lance, and in his breast a boldheart, a surer reliance than either. When he entered the wood, andsaw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with hisbloody jaws, he exclaimed, "O faithful friends, I will avenge you, or share your death. " So saying he lifted a huge stone and threwit with all his force at the serpent. Such a block would haveshaken the wall of a fortress, but it made no impression on themonster. Cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with bettersuccess, for it penetrated the serpent's scales, and piercedthrough to his entrails. Fierce with pain, the monster turned backhis head to view the wound, and attempted to draw out the weaponwith his mouth, but broke it off, leaving the iron point ranklingin his flesh. His neck swelled with rage, bloody foam covered hisjaws, and the breath of his nostrils poisoned the air around. Nowhe twisted himself into a circle, then stretched himself out onthe ground like the trunk of a fallen tree. As he moved onward, Cadmus retreated before him, holding his spear opposite to themonster's opened jaws. The serpent snapped at the weapon andattempted to bite its iron point. At last Cadmus, watching hischance, thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's head thrownback came against the trunk of a tree, and so succeeded in pinninghim to its side. His weight bent the tree as he struggled in theagonies of death. 

While Cadmus stood over his conquered foe, contemplating its vastsize, a voice was heard (from whence he knew not, but he heard itdistinctly) commanding him to take the dragon's teeth and sow themin the earth. He obeyed. He made a furrow in the ground, andplanted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of men. Scarce hadhe done so when the clods began to move, and the points of spearsto appear above the surface. Next helmets with their noddingplumes came up, and next the shoulders and breasts and limbs ofmen with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors. Cadmus, alarmed, prepared to encounter a new enemy, but one of them saidto him, "Meddle not with our civil war. " With that he who hadspoken smote one of his earth-born brothers with a sword, and hehimself fell pierced with an arrow from another. The latter fellvictim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole crowd dealt witheach other till all fell, slain with mutual wounds, except fivesurvivors. One of these cast away his weapons and said, "Brothers, let us live in peace!" These five joined with Cadmus in buildinghis city, to which they gave the name of Thebes. 

Cadmus obtained in marriage Harmonia, the daughter of Venus. Thegods left Olympus to honor the occasion with their presence, andVulcan presented the bride with a necklace of surpassingbrilliancy, his own workmanship. But a fatality hung over thefamily of Cadmus in consequence of his killing the serpent sacredto Mars. Semele and Ino, his daughters, and Actaeon and Pentheus, his grandchildren, all perished unhappily, and Cadmus and Harmoniaquitted Thebes, now grown odious to them, and emigrated to thecountry of the Enchelians, who received them with honor and madeCadmus their king. But the misfortunes of their children stillweighed upon their minds; and one day Cadmus exclaimed, "If aserpent's life is so dear to the gods, I would I were myself aserpent. " No sooner had he uttered the words than he began tochange his form. Harmonia beheld it and prayed to the gods to lether share his fate. Both became serpents. They live in the woods, but mindful of their origin, they neither avoid the presence ofman nor do they ever injure any one. 

There is a tradition that Cadmus introduced into Greece theletters of the alphabet which were invented by the Phoenicians. This is alluded to by Byron, where, addressing the modern Greeks, he says:

 "You have the letters Cadmus gave, Think you he meant them for a slave?"

Milton, describing the serpent which tempted Eve, is reminded ofthe serpents of the classical stories and says:

 ... "--pleasing was his shape, And lovely never since of serpent kind Lovelier; not those that in Illyria changed Hermione and Cadmus, nor the god In Epidaurus"

For an explanation of the last allusion, see Oracle ofAesculapius, p. 298. 

THE MYRMIDONS

The Myrmidons were the soldiers of Achilles, in the Trojan war. From them all zealous and unscrupulous followers of a politicalchief are called by that name, down to this day. But the origin ofthe Myrmidons would not give one the idea of a fierce and bloodyrace, but rather of a laborious and peaceful one. 

Cephalus, king of Athens, arrived in the island of Aegina to seekassistance of his old friend and ally Aeacus, the king, in his warwith Minos, king of Crete. Cephalus was most kindly received, andthe desired assistance readily promised. "I have people enough, "said Aeacus, "to protect myself and spare you such a force as youneed. " "I rejoice to see it, " replied Cephalus, "and my wonder hasbeen raised, I confess, to find such a host of youths as I seearound me, all apparently of about the same age. Yet there aremany individuals whom I previously knew, that I look for now invain. What has become of them?" Aeacus groaned, and replied with avoice of sadness, "I have been intending to tell you, and will nowdo so, without more delay, that you may see how from the saddestbeginning a happy result sometimes flows. Those whom you formerlyknew are now dust and ashes! A plague sent by angry Junodevastated the land. She hated it because it bore the name of oneof her husband's female favorites. While the disease appeared tospring from natural causes we resisted it, as we best might, bynatural remedies; but it soon appeared that the pestilence was toopowerful for our efforts, and we yielded. At the beginning the skyseemed to settle down upon the earth, and thick clouds shut in theheated air. For four months together a deadly south windprevailed. The disorder affected the wells and springs; thousandsof snakes crept over the land and shed their poison in thefountains. The force of the disease was first spent on the loweranimals--dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds The luckless ploughmanwondered to see his oxen fall in the midst of their work, and liehelpless in the unfinished furrow. The wool fell from the bleatingsheep, and their bodies pined away. The horse, once foremost inthe race, contested the palm no more, but groaned at his stall anddied an inglorious death. The wild boar forgot his rage, the staghis swiftness, the bears no longer attacked the herds. Everythinglanguished; dead bodies lay in the roads, the fields, and thewoods; the air was poisoned by them, I tell you what is hardlycredible, but neither dogs nor birds would touch them, norstarving wolves. Their decay spread the infection. Next thedisease attacked the country people, and then the dwellers in thecity. At first the cheek was flushed, and the breath drawn withdifficulty. The tongue grew rough and swelled, and the dry mouthstood open with its veins enlarged and gasped for the air. Mencould not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, butpreferred to lie on the bare ground; and the ground did not coolthem, but, on the contrary, they heated the spot where they lay. Nor could the physicians help, for the disease attacked them also, and the contact of the sick gave them infection, so that the mostfaithful were the first victims. At last all hope of reliefvanished, and men learned to look upon death as the only delivererfrom disease. Then they gave way to every inclination, and carednot to ask what was expedient, for nothing was expedient. Allrestraint laid aside, they crowded around the wells and fountainsand drank till they died, without quenching thirst. Many had notstrength to get away from the water, but died in the midst of thestream, and others would drink of it notwithstanding. Such wastheir weariness of their sick beds that some would creep forth, and if not strong enough to stand, would die on the ground. Theyseemed to hate their friends, and got away from their homes, asif, not knowing the cause of their sickness, they charged it onthe place of their abode. Some were seen tottering along the road, as long as they could stand, while others sank on the earth, andturned their dying eyes around to take a last look, then closedthem in death. 

"What heart had I left me, during all this, or what ought I tohave had, except to hate life and wish to be with my deadsubjects? On all sides lay my people strewn like over-ripenedapples beneath the tree, or acorns under the storm-shaken oak. Yousee yonder a temple on the height. It is sacred to Jupiter. O howmany offered prayers there, husbands for wives, fathers for sons, and died in the very act of supplication! How often, while thepriest made ready for sacrifice, the victim fell, struck down bydisease without waiting for the blow! At length all reverence forsacred things was lost. Bodies were thrown out unburied, wood waswanting for funeral piles, men fought with one another for thepossession of them. Finally there were none left to mourn; sonsand husbands, old men and youths, perished alike unlamented. 

"Standing before the altar I raised my eyes to heaven. 'OJupiter, ' I said, 'if thou art indeed my father, and art notashamed of thy offspring, give me back my people, or take me alsoaway!' At these words a clap of thunder was heard. 'I accept theomen, ' I cried; 'O may it be a sign of a favorable dispositiontowards me!' By chance there grew by the place where I stood anoak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to Jupiter. I observed atroop of ants busy with their labor, carrying minute grains intheir mouths and following one another in a line up the trunk ofthe tree. Observing their numbers with admiration, I said, 'Giveme, O father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish myempty city. ' The tree shook and gave a rustling sound with itsbranches, though no wind agitated them. I trembled in every limb, yet I kissed the earth and the tree. I would not confess to myselfthat I hoped, yet I did hope. Night came on and sleep tookpossession of my frame oppressed with cares. The tree stood beforeme in my dreams, with its numerous branches all covered withliving, moving creatures. It seemed to shake its limbs and throwdown over the ground a multitude of those industrious grain-gathering animals, which appeared to gain in size, and grow largerand larger, and by and by to stand erect, lay aside theirsuperfluous legs and their black color, and finally to assume thehuman form. Then I awoke, and my first impulse was to chide thegods who had robbed me of a sweet vision and given me no realityin its place. Being still in the temple, my attention was caughtby the sound of many voices without; a sound of late unusual to myears. While I began to think I was yet dreaming, Telamon, my son, throwing open the temple gates, exclaimed: 'Father, approach, andbehold things surpassing even your hopes!' I went forth; I saw amultitude of men, such as I had seen in my dream, and they werepassing in procession in the same manner. While I gazed withwonder and delight they approached and kneeling hailed me as theirking. I paid my vows to Jove, and proceeded to allot the vacantcity to the new-born race, and to parcel out the fields among themI called them Myrmidons, from the ant (myrmex) from which theysprang. You have seen these persons; their dispositions resemblethose which they had in their former shape. They are a diligentand industrious race, eager to gain, and tenacious of their gains. Among them you may recruit your forces. They will follow you tothe war, young in years and bold in heart. " This description ofthe plague is copied by Ovid from the account which Thucydides, the Greek historian, gives of the plague of Athens. The historiandrew from life, and all the poets and writers of fiction since hisday, when they have had occasion to describe a similar scene, haveborrowed their details from him. 

CHAPTER XIII

NISUS AND SCYLLA--ECHO AND NARCISSUS--CLYTIE--HERO AND LEANDER

NISUS AND SCYLLA

Minos, king of Crete, made war upon Megara. Nisus was king ofMegara, and Scylla was his daughter. The siege had now lasted sixmonths and the city still held out, for it was decreed by fatethat it should not be taken so long as a certain purple lock, which glittered among the hair of King Nisus, remained on hishead. There was a tower on the city walls, which overlooked theplain where Minos and his army were encamped. To this tower Scyllaused to repair, and look abroad over the tents of the hostilearmy. The siege had lasted so long that she had learned todistinguish the persons of the leaders. Minos, in particular, excited her admiration. Arrayed in his helmet, and bearing hisshield, she admired his graceful deportment; if he threw hisjavelin skill seemed combined with force in the discharge; if hedrew his bow Apollo himself could not have done it moregracefully. But when he laid aside his helmet, and in his purplerobes bestrode his white horse with its gay caparisons, and reinedin its foaming mouth, the daughter of Nisus was hardly mistress ofherself; she was almost frantic with admiration. She envied theweapon that he grasped, the reins that he held. She felt as if shecould, if it were possible, go to him through the hostile ranks;she felt an impulse to cast herself down from the tower into themidst of his camp, or to open the gates to him, or to do anythingelse, so only it might gratify Minos. As she sat in the tower, shetalked thus with herself: "I know not whether to rejoice or grieveat this sad war. I grieve that Minos is our enemy; but I rejoiceat any cause that brings him to my sight. Perhaps he would bewilling to grant us peace, and receive me as a hostage. I wouldfly down, if I could, and alight in his camp, and tell him that weyield ourselves to his mercy. But then, to betray my father! No!rather would I never see Minos again. And yet no doubt it issometimes the best thing for a city to be conquered, when theconqueror is clement and generous. Minos certainly has right onhis side. I think we shall be conquered; and if that must be theend of it, why should not love unbar the gates to him, instead ofleaving it to be done by war? Better spare delay and slaughter ifwe can. And O if any one should wound or kill Minos! No one surelywould have the heart to do it; yet ignorantly, not knowing him, one might. I will, I will surrender myself to him, with my countryas a dowry, and so put an end to the war. But how? The gates areguarded, and my father keeps the keys; he only stands in my way. Othat it might please the gods to take him away! But why ask thegods to do it? Another woman, loving as I do, would remove withher own hands whatever stood in the way of her love. And can anyother woman dare more than I? I would encounter fire and sword togain my object; but here there is no need of fire and sword. Ionly need my father's purple lock. More precious than gold to me, that will give me all I wish. "

While she thus reasoned night came on, and soon the whole palacewas buried in sleep. She entered her father's bedchamber and cutoff the fatal lock; then passed out of the city and entered theenemy's camp. She demanded to be led to the king, and thusaddressed him: "I am Scylla, the daughter of Nisus. I surrender toyou my country and my father's house. I ask no reward butyourself; for love of you I have done it. See here the purplelock! With this I give you my father and his kingdom. " She heldout her hand with the fatal spoil. Minos shrunk back and refusedto touch it. "The gods destroy thee, infamous woman, " heexclaimed; "disgrace of our time! May neither earth nor sea yieldthee a resting-place! Surely, my Crete, where Jove himself wascradled, shall not be polluted with such a monster!" Thus he said, and gave orders that equitable terms should be allowed to theconquered city, and that the fleet should immediately sail fromthe island. 

Scylla was frantic. "Ungrateful man, " she exclaimed, "is it thusyou leave me?--me who have given you victory, --who have sacrificedfor you parent and country! I am guilty, I confess, and deserve todie, but not by your hand. " As the ships left the shore, sheleaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the one whichcarried Minos, she was borne along an unwelcome companion of theircourse. A sea-eagle ing aloft, --it was her father who had beenchanged into that form, --seeing her, pounced down upon her, andstruck her with his beak and claws. In terror she let go the shipand would have fallen into the water, but some pitying deitychanged her into a bird. The sea-eagle still cherishes the oldanimosity; and whenever he espies her in his lofty flight you maysee him dart down upon her, with beak and claws, to take vengeancefor the ancient crime. 

ECHO AND NARCISSUS

Echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where shedevoted herself to woodland sports. She was a favorite of Diana, and attended her in the chase. But Echo had one failing; she wasfond of talking, and whether in chat or argument, would have thelast word. One day Juno was seeking her husband, who, she hadreason to fear, was amusing himself among the nymphs. Echo by hertalk contrived to detain the goddess till the nymphs made theirescape. When Juno discovered it, she passed sentence upon Echo inthese words: "You shall forfeit the use of that tongue with whichyou have cheated me, except for that one purpose you are so fondof--reply. You shall still have the last word, but no power tospeak first. "

This nymph saw Narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued thechase upon the mountains. She loved him, and followed hisfootsteps. O how she longed to address him in the softest accents, and win him to converse! but it was not in her power. She waitedwith impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer ready. One day the youth, being separated from his companions, shoutedaloud, "Who's here?" Echo replied, "Here. " Narcissus lookedaround, but seeing no one called out, "Come. " Echo answered, "Come. " As no one came, Narcissus called again, "Why do you shunme?" Echo asked the same question. "Let us join one another, " saidthe youth. The maid answered with all her heart in the same words, and hastened to the spot, ready to throw her arms about his neck. He started back, exclaiming, "Hands off! I would rather die thanyou should have me!" "Have me, " said she; but it was all in vain. He left her, and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses ofthe woods. From that time forth she lived in caves and amongmountain cliffs. Her form faded with grief, till at last all herflesh shrank away. Her bones were changed into rocks and there wasnothing left of her but her voice. With that she is still ready toreply to any one who calls her, and keeps up her old habit ofhaving the last word. 

Narcissus's cruelty in this case was not the only instance. Heshunned all the rest of the nymphs, as he had done poor Echo. Oneday a maiden who had in vain endeavored to attract him uttered aprayer that he might some time or other feel what it was to loveand meet no return of affection. The avenging goddess heard andgranted the prayer. 

There was a clear fountain, with water like silver, to which theshepherds never drove their flocks, nor the mountain goatsresorted, nor any of the beasts of the forest; neither was itdefaced with fallen leaves or branches; but the grass grew fresharound it, and the rocks sheltered it from the sun. Hither cameone day the youth, fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty. Hestooped down to drink, and saw his own image in the water; hethought it was some beautiful water-spirit living in thefountain. He stood gazing with admiration at those bright eyes, those locks curled like the locks of Bacchus or Apollo, therounded cheeks, the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the glow ofhealth and exercise over all. He fell in love with himself. Hebrought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his arms in toembrace the beloved object. It fled at the touch, but returnedagain after a moment and renewed the fascination. He could nottear himself away; he lost all thought of food or rest, while hehovered over the brink of the fountain gazing upon his own image. He talked with the supposed spirit: "Why, beautiful being, do youshun me? Surely my face is not one to repel you. The nymphs loveme, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. When I stretchforth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and answer mybeckonings with the like. " His tears fell into the water anddisturbed the image. As he saw it depart, he exclaimed, "Stay, Ientreat you! Let me at least gaze upon you, if I may not touchyou. " With this, and much more of the same kind, he cherished theflame that consumed him, so that by degrees he lost his color, hisvigor, and the beauty which formerly had so charmed the nymphEcho. She kept near him, however, and when he exclaimed, "Alas!alas!" she answered him with the same words. He pined away anddied; and when his shade passed the Stygian river, it leaned overthe boat to catch a look of itself in the waters. The nymphsmourned for him, especially the water-nymphs; and when they smotetheir breasts Echo smote hers also. They prepared a funeral pileand would have burned the body, but it was nowhere to be found;but in its place a flower, purple within, and surrounded withwhite leaves, which bears the name and preserves the memory ofNarcissus. 

Milton alludes to the story of Echo and Narcissus in the Lady'ssong in "Comus. " She is seeking her brothers in the forest, andsings to attract their attention:

 "Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy aery shell By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale, Where the love-lorn nightingale Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well; Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair That likest thy Narcissus are? O, if thou have Hid them in some flowery cave, Tell me but where, Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere, So may'st thou be translated to the skies, And give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies. "

Milton has imitated the story of Narcissus in the account which hemakes Eve give of the first sight of herself reflected in thefountain:

 "That day I oft remember when from sleep I first awaked, and found myself reposed Under a shade on flowers, much wondering where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issued from a cave, and spread Into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved Pure as the expanse of heaven; I thither went With unexperienced thought, and laid me down On the green bank, to look into the clear Smooth lake that to me seemed another sky. As I bent down to look, just opposite A shape within the watery gleam appeared, Bending to look on me. I started back; It started back; but pleased I soon returned, Pleased it returned as soon with answering looks Of sympathy and love. There had I fixed Mine eyes till now, and pined wi vain desire, Had not a voice thus warned me: 'What thou seest, What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself;'" etc. 

 --Paradise Lost, Book IV. 

No one of the fables of antiquity has been oftener alluded to bythe poets than that of Narcissus. Here are two epigrams whichtreat it in different ways. The first is by Goldsmith:

"ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH, STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING

 "Sure 'twas by Providence designed, Rather in pity than in hate, That he should be like Cupid blind, To save him from Narcissus' fate. "

The other is by Cowper:

"ON AN UGLY FELLOW

 "Beware, my friend, of crystal brook Or fountain, lest that hideous hook, Thy nose, thou chance to see; Narcissus' fate would then be thine, And self-detested thou would'st pine, As self-enamoured he. "

CLYTIE

Clytie was a water-nymph and in love with Apollo, who made her noreturn. So she pined away, sitting all day long upon the coldground, with her unbound tresses streaming over her shoulders. Nine days she sat and tasted neither food nor drink, her own tearsand the chilly dew her only food. She gazed on the sun when herose, and as he passed through his daily course to his setting;she saw no other object, her face turned constantly on him. Atlast, they say, her limbs rooted in the ground, her face became aflower [Footnote: The sunflower. ] which turns on its stem so asalways to face the sun throughout its daily course; for it retainsto that extent the feeling of the nymph from whom it sprang. 

Hood, in his "Flowers, " thus alludes to Clytie:

 "I will not have the mad Clytie, Whose head is turned by the sun; The tulip is a courtly quean, Whom therefore I will shun; The cowslip is a country wench, The violet is a nun;-- But I will woo the dainty rose, The queen of every one. "

The sunflower is a favorite emblem of constancy. Thus Moore usesit:

 "The heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close; As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets The same look that she turned when he rose. "

HERO AND LEANDER

Leander was a youth of Abydos, a town of the Asian side of thestrait which separates Asia and Europe. On the opposite shore, inthe town of Sestos, lived the maiden Hero, a priestess of Venus. Leander loved her, and used to swim the strait nightly to enjoythe company of his mistress, guided by a torch which she rearedupon the tower for the purpose. But one night a tempest arose andthe sea was rough; his strength failed, and he was drowned. Thewaves bore his body to the European shore, where Hero became awareof his death, and in her despair cast herself down from the towerinto the sea and perished. 

The following sonnet is by Keats:

"ON A PICTURE OF LEANDER

 "Come hither all sweet maidens soberly, Down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light Hid in the fringes of your eyelids white, And meekly let your fair hands joined be As if so gentle that ye could not see, Untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright, Sinking away to his young spirit's night, Sinking bewilder'd'mid the dreary sea. 'Tis young Leander toiling to his death Nigh swooning he doth purse his weary lips For Hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile O horrid dream! see how his body dips Dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile; He's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!"

The story of Leander's swimming the Hellespont was looked upon asfabulous, and the feat considered impossible, till Lord Byronproved its possibility by performing it himself. In the "Bride ofAbydos" he says, "These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne. "

The distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile, and there isa constant current setting out from the Sea of Marmora into theArchipelago. Since Byron's time the feat has been achieved byothers; but it yet remains a test of strength and skill in the artof swimming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to anyone of our readers who may dare to make the attempt and succeed inaccomplishing it. 

In the beginning of the second canto of the same poem, Byron thusalludes to this story:

 "The winds are high on Helle's wave, As on that night of stormiest water, When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave, The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter. 

 O, when alone along the sky The turret-torch was blazing high, Though rising gale and breaking foam, And shrieking sea-birds warned him home; And clouds aloft and tides below, With signs and sounds forbade to go, He could not see, he would not hear Or sound or sight foreboding fear. His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hailed above; His ear but rang with Hero's song, 'Ye waves, divide not lovers long. ' That tale is old, but love anew May nerve young hearts to prove as true. "

CHAPTER XIV

MINERVA--NIOBE

MINERVA

Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, was the daughter of Jupiter. Shewas said to have leaped forth from his brain, mature, and incomplete armor. She presided over the useful and ornamental arts, both those of men--such as agriculture and navigation--and thoseof women, --spinning, weaving, and needlework. She was also awarlike divinity; but it was defensive war only that shepatronized, and she had no sympathy with Mars's savage love ofviolence and bloodshed. Athens was her chosen seat, her own city, awarded to her as the prize of a contest with Neptune, who alsoaspired to it. The tale ran that in the reign of Cecrops, thefirst king of Athens, the two deities contended for the possessionof the city. The gods decreed that it should be awarded to thatone who produced the gift most useful to mortals. Neptune gave thehorse; Minerva produced the olive. The gods gave judgment that theolive was the more useful of the two, and awarded the city to thegoddess; and it was named after her, Athens, her name in Greekbeing Athene. 

There was another contest, in which a mortal dared to come incompetition with Minerva. That mortal was Arachne, a maiden whohad attained such skill in the arts of weaving and embroidery thatthe nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains tocome and gaze upon her work. It was not only beautiful when it wasdone, but beautiful also in the doing. To watch her, as she tookthe wool in its rude state and formed it into rolls, or separatedit with her fingers and carded it till it looked as light and softas a cloud, or twirled the spindle with skilful touch, or wove theweb, or, after it was woven, adorned it with her needle, one wouldhave said that Minerva herself had taught her. But this shedenied, and could not bear to be thought a pupil even of agoddess. "Let Minerva try her skill with mine, " said she; "ifbeaten I will pay the penalty. " Minerva heard this and wasdispleased. She assumed the form of an old woman and went and gaveArachne some friendly advice "I have had much experience, " saidshe, "and I hope you will not despise my counsel. Challenge yourfellow-mortals as you will, but do not compete with a goddess. Onthe contrary, I advise you to ask her forgiveness for what youhave said, and as she is merciful perhaps she will pardon you. "Arachne stopped her spinning and looked at the old dame with angerin her countenance. "Keep your counsel, " said she, "for yourdaughters or handmaids; for my part I know what I say, and I standto it. I am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her skill, ifshe dare venture. " "She comes, " said Minerva; and dropping herdisguise stood confessed. The nymphs bent low in homage, and allthe bystanders paid reverence. Arachne alone was unterrified. Sheblushed, indeed; a sudden color dyed her cheek, and then she grewpale. But she stood to her resolve, and with a foolish conceit ofher own skill rushed on her fate. Minerva forbore no longer norinterposed any further advice. They proceed to the contest. Eachtakes her station and attaches the web to the beam. Then theslender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. The reedwith its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place andcompacts the web. Both work with speed; their skilful hands moverapidly, and the excitement of the contest makes the labor light. Wool of Tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shadedoff into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives theeye. Like the bow, whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed bysunbeams reflected from the shower, [Footnote: This correctdescription of the rainbow is literally translated from Ovid. ] inwhich, where the colors meet they seem as one, but at a littledistance from the point of contact are wholly different. 

Minerva wrought on her web the scene of her contest with Neptune. Twelve of the heavenly powers are represented, Jupiter, withaugust gravity, sitting in the midst. Neptune, the ruler of thesea, holds his trident, and appears to have just smitten theearth, from which a horse has leaped forth. Minerva depictedherself with helmed head, her Aegis covering her breast. Such wasthe central circle; and in the four corners were representedincidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods at suchpresumptuous mortals as had dared to contend with them. These weremeant as warnings to her rival to give up the contest before itwas too late. 

Arachne filled her web with subjects designedly chosen to exhibitthe failings and errors of the gods. One scene represented Ledacaressing the swan, under which form Jupiter had disguisedhimself; and another, Danae, in the brazen tower in which herfather had imprisoned her, but where the god effected his entrancein the form of a golden shower. Still another depicted Europadeceived by Jupiter under the disguise of a bull. Encouraged bythe tameness of the animal Europa ventured to mount his back, whereupon Jupiter advanced into the sea and swam with her toCrete. You would have thought it was a real bull, so naturally wasit wrought, and so natural the water in which it swam. She seemedto look with longing eyes back upon the shore she was leaving, andto call to her companions for help. She appeared to shudder withterror at the sight of the heaving waves, and to draw back herfeet from the water. 

Arachne filled her canvas with similar subjects, wonderfully welldone, but strongly marking her presumption and impiety. Minervacould not forbear to admire, yet felt indignant at the insult. Shestruck the web with her shuttle and rent it in pieces, she thentouched the forehead of Arachne and made her feel her guilt andshame. She could not endure it and went and hanged herself. Minerva pitied her as she saw her suspended by a rope. "Live, " shesaid, "guilty woman! and that you may preserve the memory of thislesson, continue to hang, both you and your descendants, to allfuture times. " She sprinkled her with the juices of aconite, andimmediately her hair came off, and her nose and ears likewise. Herform shrank up, and her head grew smaller yet; her fingers cleavedto her side and served for legs. All the rest of her is body, outof which she spins her thread, often hanging suspended by it, inthe same attitude as when Minerva touched her and transformed herinto a spider. 

Spenser tells the story of Arachne in his "Muiopotmos, " adheringvery closely to his master Ovid, but improving upon him in theconclusion of the story. The two stanzas which follow tell whatwas done after the goddess had depicted her creation of the olivetree:

 "Amongst these leaves she made a Butterfly, With excellent device and wondrous slight, Fluttering among the olives wantonly, That seemed to live, so like it was in sight; The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie, The silken down with which his back is dight, His broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs, His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes. "

 "Which when Arachne saw, as overlaid And mastered with workmanship so rare, She stood astonied long, ne aught gainsaid; And with fast-fixed eyes on her did stare, And by her silence, sign of one dismayed, The victory did yield her as her share; Yet did she inly fret and felly burn, And all her blood to poisonous rancor turn. "

[Footnote: Sir James Mackintosh says of this, "Do you think thateven a Chinese could paint the gay colors of a butterfly with moremmute exactness than the following lines: 'The velvet nap, 'etc. ?"--Life, Vol. II, 246. ]

And so the metamorphosis is caused by Arachne's own mortificationand vexation, and not by any direct act of the goddess. 

The following specimen of old-fashioned gallantry is by Garrick:

 "UPON A LADY'S EMBROIDERY

 "Arachne once, as poets tell, A goddess at her art defied, And soon the daring mortal fell The hapless victim of her pride. 

 "O, then beware Arachne's fate; Be prudent, Chloe, and submit, For you'll most surely meet her hate, Who rival both her art and wit. "

Tennyson, in his "Palace of Art, " describing the works of art withwhich the palace was adorned, thus alludes to Europa:

 "... Sweet Europa's mantle blew unclasped From off her shoulder, backward borne, From one hand drooped a crocus, one hand grasped The mild bull's golden horn. "

In his "Princess" there is this allusion to Danae:

 "Now lies the earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me. "

NIOBE

The fate of Arachne was noised abroad through all the country, andserved as a warning to all presumptuous mortals not to comparethemselves with the divinities. But one, and she a matron too, failed to learn the lesson of humility. It was Niobe, the queen ofThebes. She had indeed much to be proud of; but it was not herhusband's fame, nor her own beauty, nor their great descent, northe power of their kingdom that elated her. It was her children;and truly the happiest of mothers would Niobe have been if onlyshe had not claimed to be so. It was on occasion of the annualcelebration in honor of Latona and her offspring, Apollo andDiana, --when the people of Thebes were assembled, their browscrowned with laurel, bearing frankincense to the altars and payingtheir vows, --that Niobe appeared among the crowd. Her attire wassplendid with gold and gems, and her aspect beautiful as the faceof an angry woman can be. She stood and surveyed the people withhaughty looks. "What folly, " said she, "is this!--to prefer beingswhom you never saw to those who stand before your eyes! Why shouldLatona be honored with worship, and none be paid to me? My fatherwas Tantalus, who was received as a guest at the table of thegods; my mother was a goddess. My husband built and rules thiscity, Thebes, and Phrygia is my paternal inheritance. Wherever Iturn my eyes I survey the elements of my power; nor is my form andpresence unworthy of a goddess. To all this let me add I haveseven sons and seven daughters, and look for sons-in-law anddaughters-in-law of pretensions worthy of my alliance. Have I notcause for pride? Will you prefer to me this Latona, the Titan'sdaughter, with her two children? I have seven times as many. Fortunate indeed am I, and fortunate I shall remain! Will any onedeny this? My abundance is my security. I feel myself too strongfor Fortune to subdue. She may take from me much; I shall stillhave much left. Were I to lose some of my children, I shouldhardly be left as poor as Latona with her two only. Away with youfrom these solemnities, --put off the laurel from your brows, --havedone with this worship!" The people obeyed, and left the sacredservices uncompleted. 

The goddess was indignant. On the Cynthian mountain top where shedwelt she thus addressed her son and daughter: "My children, I whohave been so proud of you both, and have been used to hold myselfsecond to none of the goddesses except Juno alone, begin now todoubt whether I am indeed a goddess. I shall be deprived of myworship altogether unless you protect me. " She was proceeding inthis strain, but Apollo interrupted her. "Say no more, " said he;"speech only delays punishment. " So said Diana also. Dartingthrough the air, veiled in clouds, they alighted on the towers ofthe city. Spread out before the gates was a broad plain, where theyouth of the city pursued their warlike sports. The sons of Niobewere there with the rest, --some mounted on spirited horses richlycaparisoned, some driving gay chariots. Ismenos, the first-born, as he guided his foaming steeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out, "Ah me!" dropped the reins, and fell lifeless. Another, hearing the sound of the bow, --like a boatman who sees the stormgathering and makes all sail for the port, --gave the reins to hishorses and attempted to escape. The inevitable arrow overtook himas he fled. Two others, younger boys, just from their tasks, hadgone to the playground to have a game of wrestling. As they stoodbreast to breast, one arrow pierced them both. They uttered a crytogether, together cast a parting look around them, and togetherbreathed their last. Alphenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall, hastened to the spot to render assistance, and fell stricken inthe act of brotherly duty. One only was left, Ilioneus. He raisedhis arms to heaven to try whether prayer might not avail. "Spareme, ye gods!" he cried, addressing all, in his ignorance that allneeded not his intercessions; and Apollo would have spared him, but the arrow had already left the string, and it was too late. 

The terror of the people and grief of the attendants soon madeNiobe acquainted with what had taken place. She could hardly thinkit possible; she was indignant that the gods had dared and amazedthat they had been able to do it. Her husband, Amphion, overwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself. Alas! how differentwas this Niobe from her who had so lately driven away the peoplefrom the sacred rites, and held her stately course through thecity, the envy of her friends, now the pity even of her foes! Sheknelt over the lifeless bodies, and kissed now one, now another ofher dead sons. Raising her pallid arms to heaven, "Cruel Latona, "said she, "feed full your rage with my anguish! Satiate your hardheart, while I follow to the grave my seven sons. Yet where isyour triumph? Bereaved as I am, I am still richer than you, myconqueror. " Scarce had she spoken, when the bow sounded and struckterror into all hearts except Niobe's alone. She was brave fromexcess of grief. The sisters stood in garments of mourning overthe biers of their dead brothers. One fell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she was bewailing. Another, attempting toconsole her mother, suddenly ceased to speak, and sank lifeless tothe earth. A third tried to escape by flight, a fourth byconcealment, another stood trembling, uncertain what course totake. Six were now dead, and only one remained, whom the motherheld clasped in her arms, and covered as it were with her wholebody. "Spare me one, and that the youngest! O spare me one of somany!" she cried; and while she spoke, that one fell dead. Desolate she sat, among sons, daughters, husband, all dead, andseemed torpid with grief. The breeze moved not her hair, no colorwas on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there wasno sign of life about her. Her very tongue cleaved to the roof ofher mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide of life. Herneck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot no step. She waschanged to stone, within and without. Yet tears continued to flow;and borne on a whirlwind to her native mountain, she stillremains, a mass of rock, from which a trickling stream flows, thetribute of her never-ending grief. 

The story of Niobe has furnished Byron with a fine illustration ofthe fallen condition of modern Rome:

 "The Niobe of nations! there she stands, Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe; An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago; The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now: The very sepulchres lie tenantless Of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow, Old Tiber! through a marble wilderness? Rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress. "

Childe Harold, IV. 79. 

This affecting story has been made the subject of a celebratedstatue in the imperial gallery of Florence. It is the principalfigure of a group supposed to have been originally arranged in thepediment of a temple. The figure of the mother clasped by the armof her terrified child is one of the most admired of the ancientstatues. It ranks with the Laocoon and the Apollo among themasterpieces of art. The following is a translation of a Greekepigram supposed to relate to this statue:

 "To stone the gods have changed her, but in vain; The sculptor's art has made her breathe again. "

Tragic as is the story of Niobe, we cannot forbear to smile at theuse Moore has made of it in "Rhymes on the Road":

 "'Twas in his carriage the sublime Sir Richard Blackmore used to rhyme, And, if the wits don't do him wrong, 'Twixt death and epics passed his time, Scribbling and killing all day long; Like Phoebus in his car at ease, Now warbling forth a lofty song, Now murdering the young Niobes. "

Sir Richard Blackmore was a physician, and at the same time a veryprolific and very tasteless poet, whose works are now forgotten, unless when recalled to mind by some wit like Moore for the sakeof a joke. 

CHAPTER XV

THE GRAEAE OR GRAY-MAIDS--PERSEUS--MEDUSA--ATLAS--ANDROMEDA

THE GRAEAE AND THE GORGONS

The Graeae were three sisters who were gray-haired from theirbirth, whence their name. The Gorgons were monstrous females withhuge teeth like those of swine, brazen claws, and snaky hair. Noneof these beings make much figure in mythology except Medusa, theGorgon, whose story we shall next advert to. We mention themchiefly to introduce an ingenious theory of some modern writers, namely, that the Gorgons and Graeae were only personifications ofthe terrors of the sea, the former denoting the STRONG billows ofthe wide open main, and the latter the WHITE-crested waves thatdash against the rocks of the coast. Their names in Greek signifythe above epithets. 

PERSEUS AND MEDUSA

Perseus was the son of Jupiter and Danae. His grandfatherAcrisius, alarmed by an oracle which had told him that hisdaughter's child would be the instrument of his death, caused themother and child to be shut up in a chest and set adrift on thesea. The chest floated towards Seriphus, where it was found by afisherman who conveyed the mother and infant to Polydectes, theking of the country, by whom they were treated with kindness. WhenPerseus was grown up Polydectes sent him to attempt the conquestof Medusa, a terrible monster who had laid waste the country. Shewas once a beautiful maiden whose hair was her chief glory, but asshe dared to vie in beauty with Minerva, the goddess deprived herof her charms and changed her beautiful ringlets into hissingserpents. She became a cruel monster of so frightful an aspectthat no living thing could behold her without being turned intostone. All around the cavern where she dwelt might be seen thestony figures of men and animals which had chanced to catch aglimpse of her and had been petrified with the sight. Perseus, favored by Minerva and Mercury, the former of whom lent him hershield and the latter his winged shoes, approached Medusa whileshe slept, and taking care not to look directly at her, but guidedby her image reflected in the bright shield which he bore, he cutoff her head and gave it to Minerva, who fixed it in the middle ofher Aegis. 

Milton, in his "Comus, " thus alludes to the Aegis:

 "What was that snaky-headed Gorgon-shield That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin, Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone, But rigid looks of chaste austerity, And noble grace that dashed brute violence With sudden adoration and blank awe!"

Armstrong, the poet of the "Art of Preserving Health, " thusdescribes the effect of frost upon the waters:

 "Now blows the surly North and chills throughout The stiffening regions, while by stronger charms Than Circe e'er or fell Medea brewed, Each brook that wont to prattle to its banks Lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks, Nor moves the withered reeds ... The surges baited by the fierce North-east, Tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads, E'en in the foam of all their madness struck To monumental ice. 

 Such execution, So stern, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect Of terrible Medusa, When wandering through the woods she turned to Stone Their savage tenants; just as the foaming Lion Sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power Outran his haste, And fixed in that fierce attitude he stands Like Rage in marble!"

 --Imitations of Shakspeare. 

PERSEUS AND ATLAS

After the slaughter of Medusa, Perseus, bearing with him the headof the Gorgon, flew far and wide, over land and sea. As night cameon, he reached the western limit of the earth, where the sun goesdown. Here he would gladly have rested till morning. It was therealm of King Atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other men. He was rich in flocks and herds and had no neighbor or rival todispute his state. But his chief pride was in his gardens, whosefruit was of gold, hanging from golden branches, half hid withgolden leaves. Perseus said to him, "I come as a guest. If youhonor illustrious descent, I claim Jupiter for my father; ifmighty deeds, I plead the conquest of the Gorgon. I seek rest andfood. " But Atlas remembered that an ancient prophecy had warnedhim that a son of Jove should one day rob him of his goldenapples. So he answered, "Begone! or neither your false claims ofglory nor parentage shall protect you;" and he attempted to thrusthim out. Perseus, finding the giant too strong for him, said, "Since you value my friendship so little, deign to accept apresent;" and turning his face away, he held up the Gorgon's head. Atlas, with all his bulk, was changed into stone. His beard andhair became forests, his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head asummit, and his bones rocks. Each part increased in bulk till hebecame a mountain, and (such was the pleasure of the gods) heavenwith all its stars rests upon his shoulders. 

THE SEA-MONSTER

Perseus, continuing his flight, arrived at the country of theAethiopians, of which Cepheus was king. Cassiopeia his queen, proud of her beauty, had dared to compare herself to the Sea-Nymphs, which roused their indignation to such a degree that theysent a prodigious sea-monster to ravage the coast. To appease thedeities, Cepheus was directed by the oracle to expose his daughterAndromeda to be devoured by the monster. As Perseus looked downfrom his aerial height he beheld the virgin chained to a rock, andwaiting the approach of the serpent. She was so pale andmotionless that if it had not been for her flowing tears and herhair that moved in the breeze, he would have taken her for amarble statue. He was so startled at the sight that he almostforgot to wave his wings. As he hovered over her he said, "Ovirgin, undeserving of those chains, but rather of such as bindfond lovers together, tell me, I beseech you, your name, and thename of your country, and why you are thus bound. " At first shewas silent from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid herface with her hands; but when he repeated his questions, for fearshe might be thought guilty of some fault which she dared nottell, she disclosed her name and that of her country, and hermother's pride of beauty. Before she had done speaking, a soundwas heard off upon the water, and the sea-monster appeared, withhis head raised above the surface, cleaving the waves with hisbroad breast. The virgin shrieked, the father and mother who hadnow arrived at the scene, wretched both, but the mother morejustly so, stood by, not able to afford protection, but only topour forth lamentations and to embrace the victim. Then spokePerseus: "There will be time enough for tears; this hour is all wehave for rescue. My rank as the son of Jove and my renown as theslayer of the Gorgon might make me acceptable as a suitor; but Iwill try to win her by services rendered, if the gods will only bepropitious. If she be rescued by my valor, I demand that she be myreward. " The parents consent (how could they hesitate?) andpromise a royal dowry with her. 

And now the monster was within the range of a stone thrown by askilful slinger, when with a sudden bound the youth soared intothe air. As an eagle, when from his lofty flight he sees a serpentbasking in the sun, pounces upon him and seizes him by the neck toprevent him from turning his head round and using his fangs, sothe youth darted down upon the back of the monster and plunged hissword into its shoulder. Irritated by the wound, the monsterraised himself in the air, then plunged into the depth; then, likea wild boar surrounded, by a pack of barking dogs, turned swiftlyfrom side to side, while the youth eluded its attacks by means ofhis wings. Wherever he can find a passage for his sword betweenthe scales he makes a wound, piercing now the side, now the flank, as it slopes towards the tail. The brute spouts from his nostrilswater mixed with blood. The wings of the hero are wet with it, andhe dares no longer trust to them. Alighting on a rock which roseabove the waves, and holding on by a projecting fragment, as themonster floated near he gave him a death stroke. The people whohad gathered on the shore shouted so that the hills reechoed thesound. The parents, transported with joy, embraced their futureson-in-law, calling him their deliverer and the savior of theirhouse, and the virgin both cause and reward of the contest, descended from the rock. 

Cassiopeia was an Aethiopian, and consequently, in spite of herboasted beauty, black; at least so Milton seems to have thought, who alludes to this story in his "Penseroso, " where he addressesMelancholy as the

 ".... Goddess, sage and holy, Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And, therefore, to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue. Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starred Aethiop queen that strove To set her beauty's praise above The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended. "

Cassiopeia is called "the starred Aethiop queen" because after herdeath she was placed among the stars, forming the constellation ofthat name. Though she attained this honor, yet the Sea-Nymphs, herold enemies, prevailed so far as to cause her to be placed in thatpart of the heaven near the pole, where every night she is halfthe time held with her head downward, to give her a lesson ofhumility. 

Memnon was an Aethiopian prince, of whom we shall tell in a futurechapter. 

THE WEDDING FEAST

The joyful parents, with Perseus and Andromeda, repaired to thepalace, where a banquet was spread for them, and all was joy andfestivity. But suddenly a noise was heard of warlike clamor, andPhineus, the betrothed of the virgin, with a party of hisadherents, burst in, demanding the maiden as his own. It was invain that Cepheus remonstrated--"You should have claimed her whenshe lay bound to the rock, the monster's victim. The sentence ofthe gods dooming her to such a fate dissolved all engagements, asdeath itself would have done. " Phineus made no reply, but hurledhis javelin at Perseus, but it missed its mark and fell harmless. Perseus would have thrown his in turn, but the cowardly assailantran and took shelter behind the altar. But his act was a signalfor an onset by his band upon the guests of Cepheus. They defendedthemselves and a general conflict ensued, the old king retreatingfrom the scene after fruitless expostulations, calling the gods towitness that he was guiltless of this outrage on the rights ofhospitality. 

Perseus and his friends maintained for some time the unequalcontest; but the numbers of the assailants were too great forthem, and destruction seemed inevitable, when a sudden thoughtstruck Perseus, --"I will make my enemy defend me. " Then with aloud voice he exclaimed, "If I have any friend here let him turnaway his eyes!" and held aloft the Gorgon's head. "Seek not tofrighten us with your jugglery, " said Thescelus, and raised hisjavelin in act to throw, and became stone in the very attitude. Ampyx was about to plunge his sword into the body of a prostratefoe, but his arm stiffened and he could neither thrust forward norwithdraw it. Another, in the midst of a vociferous challenge, stopped, his mouth open, but no sound issuing. One of Perseus'sfriends, Aconteus, caught sight of the Gorgon and stiffened likethe rest. Astyages struck him with his sword, but instead ofwounding, it recoiled with a ringing noise. 

Phineus beheld this dreadful result of his unjust aggression, andfelt confounded. He called aloud to his friends, but got noanswer; he touched them and found them stone. Falling on his kneesand stretching out his hands to Perseus, but turning his head awayhe begged for mercy. "Take all, " said he, "give me but my life. ""Base coward, " said Perseus, "thus much I will grant you; noweapon shall touch you; moreover, you shall be preserved in myhouse as a memorial of these events. " So saying, he held theGorgon's head to the side where Phineus was looking, and in thevery form in which he knelt, with his hands outstretched and faceaverted, he became fixed immovably, a mass of stone!

The following allusion to Perseus is from Milman's "Samor":

 "As'mid the fabled Libyan bridal stood Perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath, Half stood, half floated on his ankle-plumes Out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield Looked into stone the raging fray; so rose, But with no magic arms, wearing alone Th' appalling and control of his firm look, The Briton Samor; at his rising awe Went abroad, and the riotous hall was mute. "

CHAPTER XVI

MONSTERS

GIANTS, SPHINX, PEGASUS AND CHIMAERA, CENTAURS, GRIFFIN, ANDPYGMIES

Monsters, in the language of mythology, were beings of unnaturalproportions or parts, usually regarded with terror, as possessingimmense strength and ferocity, which they employed for the injuryand annoyance of men. Some of them were supposed to combine themembers of different animals; such were the Sphinx and Chimaera;and to these all the terrible qualities of wild beasts wereattributed, together with human sagacity and faculties. Others, asthe giants, differed from men chiefly in their size; and in thisparticular we must recognize a wide distinction among them. Thehuman giants, if so they may be called, such as the Cyclopes, Antaeus, Orion, and others, must be supposed not to be altogetherdisproportioned to human beings, for they mingled in love andstrife with them. But the superhuman giants, who warred with thegods, were of vastly larger dimensions. Tityus, we are told, whenstretched on the plain, covered nine acres, and Enceladus requiredthe whole of Mount Aetna to be laid upon him to keep him down. 

We have already spoken of the war which the giants waged againstthe gods, and of its result. While this war lasted the giantsproved a formidable enemy. Some of them, like Briareus, had ahundred arms; others, like Typhon, breathed out fire. At one timethey put the gods to such fear that they fled into Egypt and hidthemselves under various forms. Jupiter took the form of a ram, whence he was afterwards worshipped in Egypt as the god Ammon, with curved horns. Apollo became a crow, Bacchus a goat, Diana acat, Juno a cow, Venus a fish, Mercury a bird. At another time thegiants attempted to climb up into heaven, and for that purposetook up the mountain Ossa and piled it on Pelion. [Footnote: SeeProverbial Expressions. ] They were at last subdued bythunderbolts, which Minerva invented, and taught Vulcan and hisCyclopes to make for Jupiter. 

THE SPHINX

Laius, king of Thebes, was warned by an oracle that there wasdanger to his throne and life if his new-born son should besuffered to grow up. He therefore committed the child to the careof a herdsman with orders to destroy him; but the herdsman, movedwith pity, yet not daring entirely to disobey, tied up the childby the feet and left him hanging to the branch of a tree. In thiscondition the infant was found by a peasant, who carried him tohis master and mistress, by whom he was adopted and calledOEdipus, or Swollen-foot. 

Many years afterwards Laius being on his way to Delphi, accompanied only by one attendant, met in a narrow road a youngman also driving in a chariot. On his refusal to leave the way attheir command the attendant killed one of his horses, and thestranger, filled with rage, slew both Laius and his attendant. Theyoung man was OEdipus, who thus unknowingly became the slayer ofhis own father. 

Shortly after this event the city of Thebes was afflicted with amonster which infested the highroad. It was called the Sphinx. Ithad the body of a lion and the upper part of a woman. It laycrouched on the top of a rock, and arrested all travellers whocame that way proposing to them a riddle, with the condition thatthose who could solve it should pass safe, but those who failedshould be killed. Not one had yet succeeded in solving it, and allhad been slain. OEdipus was not daunted by these alarmingaccounts, but boldly advanced to the trial. The Sphinx asked him, "What animal is that which in the morning gees on four feet, atnoon on two, and in the evening upon three?" OEdipus replied, "Man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in manhood walkserect, and in old age with the aid of a staff. " The Sphinx was somortified at the solving of her riddle that she cast herself downfrom the rock and perished. 

The gratitude of the people for their deliverance was so greatthat they made OEdipus their king, giving him in marriage theirqueen Jocasta. OEdipus, ignorant of his parentage, had alreadybecome the slayer of his father; in marrying the queen he becamethe husband of his mother. These horrors remained undiscovered, till at length Thebes was afflicted with famine and pestilence, and the oracle being consulted, the double crime of OEdipus cameto light. Jocasta put an end to her own life, and OEdipus, seizedwith madness, tore out his eyes and wandered away from Thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all except his daughters, who faithfullyadhered to him, till after a tedious period of miserable wanderinghe found the termination of his wretched life. 

PEGASUS AND THE CHIMAERA

When Perseus cut off Medusa's head, the blood sinking into theearth produced the winged horse Pegasus. Minerva caught him andtamed him and presented him to the Muses. The fountain Hippocrene, on the Muses' mountain Helicon, was opened by a kick from hishoof. 

The Chimaera was a fearful monster, breathing fire. The fore partof its body was a compound of the lion and the goat, and the hindpart a dragon's. It made great havoc in Lycia, so that the king, Iobates, sought for some hero to destroy it. At that time therearrived at his court a gallant young warrior, whose name wasBellerophon. He brought letters from Proetus, the son-in-law ofIobates, recommending Bellerophon in the warmest terms as anunconquerable hero, but added at the close a request to hisfather-in-law to put him to death. The reason was that Proetus wasjealous of him, suspecting that his wife Antea looked with toomuch admiration on the young warrior. From this instance ofBellerophon being unconsciously the bearer of his own deathwarrant, the expression "Bellerophontic letters" arose, todescribe any species of communication which a person is made thebearer of, containing matter prejudicial to himself. 

Iobates, on perusing the letters, was puzzled what to do, notwilling to violate the claims of hospitality, yet wishing tooblige his son-in-law. A lucky thought occurred to him, to sendBellerophon to combat with the Chimaera. Bellerophon accepted theproposal, but before proceeding to the combat consulted thesoothsayer Polyidus, who advised him to procure if possible thehorse Pegasus for the conflict. For this purpose he directed himto pass the night in the temple of Minerva. He did so, and as heslept Minerva came to him and gave him a golden bridle. When heawoke the bridle remained in his hand. Minerva also showed himPegasus drinking at the well of Pirene, and at sight of the bridlethe winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to be taken. Bellerophon mounted him, rose with him into the air, soon foundthe Chimaera, and gained an easy victory over the monster. 

After the conquest of the Chimaera Bellerophon was exposed tofurther trials and labors by his unfriendly host, but by the aidof Pegasus he triumphed in them all, till at length Iobates, seeing that the hero was a special favorite of the gods, gave himhis daughter in marriage and made him his successor on the throne. At last Bellerophon by his pride and presumption drew upon himselfthe anger of the gods; it is said he even attempted to fly up intoheaven on his winged steed, but Jupiter sent a gadfly which stungPegasus and made him throw his rider, who became lame and blind inconsequence. After this Bellerophon wandered lonely through theAleian field, avoiding the paths of men, and died miserably. 

Milton alludes to Bellerophon in the beginning of the seventh bookof "Paradise Lost":

 "Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine Following above the Olympian hill I soar, Above the flight of Pegasean wing Upled by thee, Into the Heaven of Heavens I have presumed, An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air (Thy tempering); with like safety guided down Return me to my native element; Lest from this flying steed unreined (as once Bellerophon, though from a lower sphere), Dismounted on the Aleian field I fall, Erroneous there to wander and forlorn. "

Young, in his "Night Thoughts, " speaking of the sceptic, says:

 "He whose blind thought futurity denies, Unconscious bears, Bellerophon, like thee His own indictment, he condemns himself. Who reads his bosom reads immortal life, Or nature there, imposing on her sons, Has written fables; man was made a lie. "

Vol II, p 12

Pegasus, being the horse of the Muses, has always been at theservice of the poets. Schiller tells a pretty story of his havingbeen sold by a needy poet and put to the cart and the plough. Hewas not fit for such service, and his clownish master could makenothing of him But a youth stepped forth and asked leave to tryhim As soon as he was seated on his back the horse, which hadappeared at first vicious, and afterwards spirit-broken, rosekingly, a spirit, a god, unfolded the splendor of his wings, andsoared towards heaven. Our own poet Longfellow also records anadventure of this famous steed in his "Pegasus in Pound. "

Shakspeare alludes to Pegasus in "Henry IV. , " where Vernondescribes Prince Henry:

 "I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuishes on his thighs, gallantly armed, Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropped down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship"

THE CENTAURS

These monsters were represented as men from the head to the loins, while the remainder of the body was that of a horse. The ancientswere too fond of a horse to consider the union of his nature withman's as forming a very degraded compound, and accordingly theCentaur is the only one of the fancied monsters of antiquity towhich any good traits are assigned. The Centaurs were admitted tothe companionship of man, and at the marriage of Pirithous withHippodamia they were among the guests. At the feast Eurytion, oneof the Centaurs, becoming intoxicated with the wine, attempted tooffer violence to the bride; the other Centaurs followed hisexample, and a dreadful conflict arose in which several of themwere slain. This is the celebrated battle of the Lapithae andCentaurs, a favorite subject with the sculptors and poets ofantiquity. 

But not all the Centaurs were like the rude guests of Pirithous. Chiron was instructed by Apollo and Diana, and was renowned forhis skill in hunting, medicine, music, and the art of prophecy. The most distinguished heroes of Grecian story were his pupils. Among the rest the infant--Aesculapius was intrusted to his chargeby Apollo, his father. When the sage returned to his home bearingthe infant, his daughter Ocyroe came forth to meet him, and atsight of the child burst forth into a prophetic strain (for shewas a prophetess), foretelling the glory that he was to achieveAesculapius when grown up became a renowned physician, and even inone instance succeeded in restoring the dead to life. Plutoresented this, and Jupiter, at his request, struck the boldphysician with lightning, and killed him, but after his deathreceived him into the number of the gods. 

Chiron was the wisest and justest of all the Centaurs, and at hisdeath Jupiter placed him among the stars as the constellationSagittarius. 

THE PYGMIES

The Pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, so called from a Greek wordwhich means the cubit or measure of about thirteen inches, whichwas said to be the height of these people. They lived near thesources of the Nile, or according to others, in India. Homer tellsus that the cranes used to migrate every winter to the Pygmies'country, and their appearance was the signal of bloody warfare tothe puny inhabitants, who had to take up arms to defend theircornfields against the rapacious strangers. The Pygmies and theirenemies the Cranes form the subject of several works of art. 

Later writers tell of an army of Pygmies which finding Herculesasleep made preparations to attack him, as if they were about toattack a city. But the hero, awaking, laughed at the littlewarriors, wrapped some of them up in his lion's skin, and carriedthem to Eurystheus. 

Milton uses the Pygmies for a simile, "Paradise Lost, " Book I. :

 "... Like that Pygmaean race Beyond the Indian mount, or fairy elves Whose midnight revels by a forest side, Or fountain, some belated peasant sees (Or dreams he sees), while overhead the moon Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth Wheels her pale course; they on their mirth and dance Intent, with jocund music charm his ear. At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds. "

THE GRIFFIN, OR GRYPHON

The Griffin is a monster with the body of a lion, the head andwings of an eagle, and back covered with feathers. Like birds itbuilds its nest, and instead of an egg lays an agate therein. Ithas long claws and talons of such a size that the people of thatcountry make them into drinking-cups. India was assigned as thenative country of the Griffins. They found gold in the mountainsand built their nests of it, for which reason their nests werevery tempting to the hunters, and they were forced to keepvigilant guard over them. Their instinct led them to know whereburied treasures lay, and they did their best to keep plunderersat a distance. The Arimaspians, among whom the Griffinsflourished, were a one-eyed people of Scythia. 

Milton borrows a simile from the Griffins, "Paradise Lost, " BookII, :

 "As when a Gryphon through the wilderness, With winged course, o'er hill and moory dale, Pursues the Arimaspian who by stealth Hath from his wakeful custody purloined His guarded gold, " etc. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE GOLDEN FLEECE--MEDEA

THE GOLDEN FLEECE

In very ancient times there lived in Thessaly a king and queennamed Athamas and Nephele. They had two children, a boy and agirl. After a time Athamas grew indifferent to his wife, put heraway, and took another. Nephele suspected danger to her childrenfrom the influence of the step-mother, and took measures to sendthem out of her reach. Mercury assisted her, and gave her a ramwith a GOLDEN FLEECE, on which she set the two children, trustingthat the ram would convey them to a place of safety. The ramvaulted into the air with the children on his back, taking hiscourse to the East, till when crossing the strait that dividesEurope and Asia, the girl, whose name was Helle, fell from hisback into the sea, which from her was called the Hellespont, --nowthe Dardanelles. The ram continued his career till he reached thekingdom of Colchis, on the eastern shore of the Black Sea, wherehe safely landed the boy Phryxus, who was hospitably received byAeetes, king of the country. Phryxus sacrificed the ram toJupiter, and gave the Golden Fleece to Aeetes, who placed it in aconsecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless dragon. 

There was another kingdom in Thessaly near to that of Athamas, andruled over by a relative of his. The king Aeson, being tired ofthe cares of government, surrendered his crown to his brotherPelias on condition that he should hold it only during theminority of Jason, the son of Aeson. When Jason was grown up andcame to demand the crown from his uncle, Pelias pretended to bewilling to yield it, but at the same time suggested to the youngman the glorious adventure of going in quest of the Golden Fleece, which it was well known was in the kingdom of Colchis, and was, asPelias pretended, the rightful property of their family. Jason waspleased with the thought, and forthwith made preparations for theexpedition. At that time the only species of navigation known tothe Greeks consisted of small boats or canoes hollowed out fromtrunks of trees, so that when Jason employed Argus to build him avessel capable of containing fifty men, it was considered agigantic undertaking. It was accomplished, however, and the vesselnamed "Argo, " from the name of the builder. Jason sent hisinvitation to all the adventurous young men of Greece, and soonfound himself at the head of a band of bold youths, many of whomafterwards were renowned among the heroes and demigods of Greece. Hercules, Theseus, Orpheus, and Nestor were among them. They arecalled the Argonauts, from the name of their vessel. 

The "Argo" with her crew of heroes left the shores of Thessaly andhaving touched at the Island of Lemnos, thence crossed to Mysiaand thence to Thrace. Here they found the sage Phineus, and fromhim received instruction as to their future course. It seems theentrance of the Euxine Sea was impeded by two small rocky islands, which floated on the surface, and in their tossings and heavingsoccasionally came together, crushing and grinding to atoms anyobject that might be caught between them. They were called theSymplegades, or Clashing Islands. Phineus instructed the Argonautshow to pass this dangerous strait. When they reached the islandsthey let go a dove, which took her way between the rocks, andpassed in safety, only losing some feathers of her tail. Jason andhis men seized the favorable moment of the rebound, plied theiroars with vigor, and passed safe through, though the islandsclosed behind them, and actually grazed their stern. They nowrowed along the shore till they arrived at the eastern end of thesea, and landed at the kingdom of Colchis. 

Jason made known his message to the Colchian king, Aeetes, whoconsented to give up the golden fleece if Jason would yoke to theplough two fire-breathing bulls with brazen feet, and sow theteeth of the dragon which Cadmus had slain, and from which it waswell known that a crop of armed men would spring up, who wouldturn their weapons against their producer. Jason accepted theconditions, and a time was set for making the experiment. Previously, however, he found means to plead his cause to Medea, daughter of the king. He promised her marriage, and as they stoodbefore the altar of Hecate, called the goddess to witness hisoath. Medea yielded, and by her aid, for she was a potentsorceress, he was furnished with a charm, by which he couldencounter safely the breath of the fire-breathing bulls and theweapons of the armed men. 

At the time appointed, the people assembled at the grove of Mars, and the king assumed his royal seat, while the multitude coveredthe hill-sides. The brazen-footed bulls rushed in, breathing firefrom their nostrils that burned up the herbage as they passed. Thesound was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke like that ofwater upon quick-lime. Jason advanced boldly to meet them. Hisfriends, the chosen heroes of Greece, trembled to behold him. Regardless of the burning breath, he soothed their rage with hisvoice, patted their necks with fearless hand, and adroitly slippedover them the yoke, and compelled them to drag the plough. TheColchians were amazed; the Greeks shouted for joy. Jason nextproceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and plough them in. And soonthe crop of armed men sprang up, and, wonderful to relate! nosooner had they reached the surface than they began to brandishtheir weapons and rush upon Jason. The Greeks trembled for theirhero, and even she who had provided him a way of safety and taughthim how to use it, Medea herself, grew pale with fear. Jason for atime kept his assailants at bay with his sword and shield, till, finding their numbers overwhelming, he resorted to the charm whichMedea had taught him, seized a stone and threw it in the midst ofhis foes. They immediately turned their arms against one another, and soon there was not one of the dragon's brood left alive. TheGreeks embraced their hero, and Medea, if she dared, would haveembraced him too. 

It remained to lull to sleep the dragon that guarded the fleece, and this was done by scattering over him a few drops of apreparation which Medea had supplied. At the smell he relaxed hisrage, stood for a moment motionless, then shut those great roundeyes, that had never been known to shut before, and turned over onhis side, fast asleep. Jason seized the fleece and with hisfriends and Medea accompanying, hastened to their vessel beforeAeetes the king could arrest their departure, and made the best oftheir way back to Thessaly, where they arrived safe, and Jasondelivered the fleece to Pelias, and dedicated the "Argo" toNeptune. What became of the fleece afterwards we do not know, butperhaps it was found after all, like many other golden prizes, notworth the trouble it had cost to procure it. 

This is one of those mythological tales, says a late writer, inwhich there is reason to believe that a substratum of truthexists, though overlaid by a mass of fiction. It probably was thefirst important maritime expedition, and like the first attemptsof the kind of all nations, as we know from history, was probablyof a half-piratical character. If rich spoils were the result itwas enough to give rise to the idea of the golden fleece. 

Another suggestion of a learned mythologist, Bryant, is that it isa corrupt tradition of the story of Noah and the ark. The name"Argo" seems to countenance this, and the incident of the dove isanother confirmation. 

Pope, in his "Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, " thus celebrates thelaunching of the ship "Argo, " and the power of the music ofOrpheus, whom he calls the Thracian:

 "So when the first bold vessel dared the seas, High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain, While Argo saw her kindred trees Descend from Pelion to the main. Transported demigods stood round, And men grew heroes at the sound. "

In Dyer's poem of "The Fleece" there is an account of the ship"Argo" and her crew, which gives a good picture of this primitivemaritime adventure:

 "From every region of Aegea's shore The brave assembled; those illustrious twins Castor and Pollux; Orpheus, tuneful bard; Zetes and Calais, as the wind in speed; Strong Hercules and many a chief renowned. On deep Iolcos' sandy shore they thronged, Gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits; And soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone Uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark; Whose keel of wondrous length the skilful hand Of Argus fashioned for the proud attempt; And in the extended keel a lofty mast Upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs Unwonted objects. Now first, now they learned Their bolder steerage over ocean wave, Led by the golden stars, as Chiron's art Had marked the sphere celestial, " etc. 

Hercules left the expedition at Mysia, for Hylas, a youth belovedby him, having gone for water, was laid hold of and kept by thenymphs of the spring, who were fascinated by his beauty. Herculeswent in quest of the lad, and while he was absent the "Argo" putto sea and left him. Moore, in one of his songs, makes a beautifulallusion to this incident:

 "When Hylas was sent with his urn to the fount, Through fields full of light and with heart full of play, Light rambled the boy over meadow and mount, And neglected his task for the flowers in the way. 

 "Thus many like me, who in youth should have tasted The fountain that runs by Philosophy's shrme, Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted, And left their light urns all as empty as mine. "

MEDEA AND AESON

Amid the rejoicings for the recovery of the Golden Fleece, Jasonfelt that one thing was wanting, the presence of Aeson, hisfather, who was prevented by his age and infirmities from takingpart in them. Jason said to Medea, "My spouse, would that yourarts, whose power I have seen so mighty for my aid, could do meone further service, take some years from my life and add them tomy father's. " Medea replied, "Not at such a cost shall it be done, but if my art avails me, his life shall be lengthened withoutabridging yours. " The next full moon she issued forth alone, whileall creatures slept; not a breath stirred the foliage, and all wasstill. To the stars she addressed her incantations, and to themoon; to Hecate, [Footnote: Hecate was a mysterious divinitysometimes identified with Diana and sometimes with Proserpine. AsDiana represents the moonlight splendor of night, so Hecaterepresents its darkness and terrors. She was the goddess ofsorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by night alongthe earth, seen only by the dogs, whose barking told herapproach. ] the goddess of the underworld, and to Tellus thegoddess of the earth, by whose power plants potent for enchantmentare produced. She invoked the gods of the woods and caverns, ofmountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers, of winds and vapors. While she spoke the stars shone brighter, and presently a chariotdescended through the air, drawn by flying serpents. She ascendedit, and borne aloft made her way to distant regions, where potentplants grew which she knew how to select for her purpose. Ninenights she employed in her search, and during that time came notwithin the doors of her palace nor under any roof, and shunned allintercourse with mortals. 

She next erected two altars, the one to Hecate, the other to Hebe, the goddess of youth, and sacrificed a black sheep, pouringlibations of milk and wine. She implored Pluto and his stolenbride that they would not hasten to take the old man's life. Thenshe directed that Aeson should be led forth, and having thrown himinto a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed of herbs, likeone dead. Jason and all others were kept away from the place, thatno profane eyes might look upon her mysteries. Then, withstreaming hair, she thrice moved round the altars, dipped flamingtwigs in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn. Meanwhile thecaldron with its contents was got ready. In it she put magicherbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid juice, stones from thedistant east, and sand from the shore of all-surrounding ocean;hoar frost, gathered by moonlight, a screech owl's head and wings, and the entrails of a wolf. She added fragments of the shells oftortoises, and the liver of stags, --animals tenacious of life, --and the head and beak of a crow, that outlives nine generations ofmen. These with many other things "without a name" she boiledtogether for her purposed work, stirring them up with a dry olivebranch; and behold! the branch when taken out instantly becamegreen, and before long was covered with leaves and a plentifulgrowth of young olives; and as the liquor boiled and bubbled, andsometimes ran over, the grass wherever the sprinklings fell shotforth with a verdure like that of spring. 

Seeing that all was ready, Medea cut the throat of the old man andlet out all his blood, and poured into his mouth and into hiswound the juices of her caldron. As soon as he had completelyimbibed them, his hair and beard laid by their whiteness andassumed the blackness of youth; his paleness and emaciation weregone; his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor androbustness. Aeson is amazed at himself, and remembers that such ashe now is, he was in his youthful days, forty years before. 

Medea used her arts here for a good purpose, but not so in anotherinstance, where she made them the instruments of revenge. Pelias, our readers will recollect, was the usurping uncle of Jason, andhad kept him out of his kingdom. Yet he must have had some goodqualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they saw whatMedea had done for Aeson, they wished her to do the same for theirfather. Medea pretended to consent, and prepared her caldron asbefore. At her request an old sheep was brought and plunged intothe caldron. Very soon a bleating was heard in the kettle, andwhen the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth and ran friskingaway into the meadow. The daughters of Pelias saw the experimentwith delight, and appointed a time for their father to undergo thesame operation. But Medea prepared her caldron for him in a verydifferent way. She put in only water and a few simple herbs. Inthe night she with the sisters entered the bed chamber of the oldking, while he and his guards slept soundly under the influence ofa spell cast upon them by Medea. The daughters stood by thebedside with their weapons drawn, but hesitated to strike, tillMedea chid their irresolution. Then turning away their faces, andgiving random blows, they smote him with their weapons. He, starting from his sleep, cried out, "My daughters, what are youdoing? Will you kill your father?" Their hearts failed them andtheir weapons fell from their hands, but Medea struck him a fatalblow, and prevented his saying more. 

Then they placed him in the caldron, and Medea hastened to departin her serpent-drawn chariot before they discovered her treachery, or their vengeance would have been terrible. She escaped, however, but had little enjoyment of the fruits of her crime. Jason, forwhom she had done so much, wishing to marry Creusa, princess ofCorinth, put away Medea. She, enraged at his ingratitude, calledon the gods for vengeance, sent a poisoned robe as a gift to thebride, and then killing her own children, and setting fire to thepalace, mounted her serpent-drawn chariot and fled to Athens, where she married King Aegeus, the father of Theseus, and we shallmeet her again when we come to the adventures of that hero. 

The incantations of Medea will remind the reader of those of thewitches in "Macbeth. " The following lines are those which seemmost strikingly to recall the ancient model:

 "Round about the caldron go; In the poisoned entrails throw. 

 Fillet of a fenny snake In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg and howlet's wing:

 Maw of ravening salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digged in the dark, " etc

 --Macbeth, Act IV, Scene 1

And again:

 Macbeth. --What is't you do? Witches, --A deed without a name. 

There is another story of Medea almost too revolting for recordeven of a sorceress, a class of persons to whom both ancient andmodern poets have been accustomed to attribute every degree ofatrocity. In her flight from Colchis she had taken her youngbrother Absyrtus with her. Finding the pursuing vessels of Aeetesgaining upon the Argonauts, she caused the lad to be killed andhis limbs to be strewn over the sea. Aeetes on reaching the placefound these sorrowful traces of his murdered son; but while hetarried to collect the scattered fragments and bestow upon them anhonorable interment, the Argonauts escaped. 

In the poems of Campbell will be found a translation of one of thechoruses of the tragedy of "Medea, " where the poet Euripides hastaken advantage of the occasion to pay a glowing tribute toAthens, his native city. It begins thus:

 "O haggard queen! to Athens dost thou guide Thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore; Or seek to hide thy damned parricide Where peace and justice dwell for evermore?"

CHAPTER XVIII

MELEAGER AND ATALANTA

One of the heroes of the Argonautic expedition was Meleager, sonof OEneus and Althea, king and queen of Calydon. Althea, when herson was born, beheld the three destinies, who, as they spun theirfatal thread, foretold that the life of the child should last nolonger than a brand then burning upon the hearth. Althea seizedand quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it for years, while Meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and manhood. It chanced, then, that OEneus, as he offered sacrifices to the gods, omittedto pay due honors to Diana; and she, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild boar of enormous size to lay waste the fields ofCalydon. Its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stoodlike threatening spears, its tusks were like those of Indianelephants. The growing corn was trampled, the vines and olivetrees laid waste, the flocks and herds were driven in wildconfusion by the slaughtering foe. All common aid seemed vain; butMeleager called on the heroes of Greece to join in a bold hunt forthe ravenous monster. Theseus and his friend Pirithous, Jason, Peleus, afterwards the father of Achilles, Telamon the father ofAjax, Nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms withAchilles and Ajax in the Trojan war, --these and many more joinedin the enterprise. With them came Atalanta, the daughter ofIasius, king of Arcadia. A buckle of polished gold confined hervest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left handbore the bow. Her face blent feminine beauty with the best gracesof martial youth. Meleager saw and loved. 

But now already they were near the monster's lair. They stretchedstrong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs, theytried to find the footprints of their quarry in the grass. Fromthe wood was a descent to marshy ground. Here the boar, as he layamong the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and rushedforth against them. One and another is thrown down and slain. Jason throws his spear, with a prayer to Diana for success; andthe favoring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to wound, removing the steel point of the spear in its flight. Nestor, assailed, seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree. Telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, fallsprone. But an arrow from Atalanta at length for the first timetastes the monster's blood. It is a slight wound, but Meleagersees and joyfully proclaims it. Anceus, excited to envy by thepraise given to a female, loudly proclaims his own valor, anddefies alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as herushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound. Theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a projectingbough. The dart of Jason misses its object, and kills instead oneof their own dogs. But Meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear into the monster's side, then rushes on anddespatches him with repeated blows. 

Then rose a shout from those around; they congratulated theconqueror, crowding to touch his hand. He, placing his foot uponthe head of the slain boar, turned to Atalanta and bestowed on herthe head and the rough hide which were the trophies of hissuccess. But at this, envy excited the rest to strife. Plexippusand Toxeus, the brothers of Meleager's mother, beyond the restopposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she hadreceived. Meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done tohimself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom heloved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword intothe offenders' hearts. 

As Althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for thevictory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met hersight. She shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to changethe garments of rejoicing for those of mourning. But when theauthor of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desireof vengeance on her son. The fatal brand, which once she rescuedfrom the flames, the brand which the destinies had linked withMeleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to beprepared. Then four times she essays to place the brand upon thepile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringingdestruction on her son. The feelings of the mother and the sistercontend within her. Now she is pale at the thought of the proposeddeed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her son. As avessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in the oppositeby the tide, the mind of Althea hangs suspended in uncertainty. But now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins asshe holds the fatal wood: "Turn, ye Furies, goddesses ofpunishment! turn to behold the sacrifice I bring! Crime must atonefor crime. Shall OEneus rejoice in his victor son, while the houseof Thestius is desolate? But, alas! to what deed am I borne along?Brothers forgive a mother's weakness! my hand fails me. Hedeserves death, but not that I should destroy him. But shall hethen live, and triumph, and reign over Calydon, while you, mybrothers, wander unavenged among the shades? No! thou hast livedby my gift; die, now, for thine own crime. Return the life whichtwice I gave thee, first at thy birth, again when I snatched thisbrand from the flames. O that thou hadst then died! Alas! evil isthe conquest; but, brothers, ye have conquered. " And, turning awayher face, she threw the fatal wood upon the burning pile. 

It gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. Meleager, absent andunknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang. He burns, and only bycourageous pride conquers the pain which destroys him. He mournsonly that he perishes by a bloodless and unhonored death. With hislast breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and hisfond sisters, upon his beloved Atalanta, and upon his mother, theunknown cause of his fate. The flames increase, and with them thepain of the hero. Now both subside; now both are quenched. Thebrand is ashes, and the life of Meleager is breathed forth to thewandering winds. 

Althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself. The sisters of Meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollablegrief; till Diana, pitying the sorrows of the house that once hadaroused her anger, turned them into birds. 

ATALANTA

The innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face youmight truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy. Her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: "Atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your ruin. " Terrified by thisoracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to thesports of the chase. To all suitors (for she had many) she imposeda condition which was generally effectual in relieving her oftheir persecutions, --"I will be the prize of him who shall conquerme in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try andfail. " In spite of this hard condition some would try. Hippomeneswas to be judge of the race. "Can it be possible that any will beso rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. But when he sawher lay aside her robe for the race, he changed his mind, andsaid, "Pardon me, youths, I knew not the prize you were competingfor. " As he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, andswelled with envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win. While such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. As sheran she looked more beautiful than ever. The breezes seemed togive wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and thegay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. A ruddy hue tingedthe whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on amarble wall. All her competitors were distanced, and were put todeath without mercy. Hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "Why boast of beating thoselaggards? I offer myself for the contest. " Atalanta looked at himwith a pitying countenance, and hardly knew whether she wouldrather conquer him or not. "What god can tempt one so young andhandsome to throw himself away? I pity him, not for his beauty(yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. I wish he would give upthe race, or if he will be so mad, I hope he may outrun me. " Whileshe hesitates, revolving these thoughts, the spectators growimpatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare. Then Hippomenes addressed a prayer to Venus: "Help me, Venus, foryou have led me on. " Venus heard and was propitious. 

In the garden of her temple, in her own island of Cyprus, is atree with yellow leaves and yellow branches and golden fruit. Hence she gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by any oneelse, gave them to Hippomenes, and told him how to use them. Thesignal is given; each starts from the goal and skims over thesand. So light their tread, you would almost have thought theymight run over the river surface or over the waving grain withoutsinking. The cries of the spectators cheered Hippomenes, --"Now, now, do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! onemore effort!" It was doubtful whether the youth or the maidenheard these cries with the greater pleasure. But his breath beganto fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off. At thatmoment he threw down one of the golden apples. The virgin was allamazement. She stopped to pick it up. Hippomenes shot ahead. Shouts burst forth from all sides. She redoubled her efforts, andsoon overtook him. Again he threw an apple. She stopped again, butagain came up with him. The goal was near; one chance onlyremained. "Now, goddess, " said he, "prosper your gift!" and threwthe last apple off at one side. She looked at it, and hesitated;Venus impelled her to turn aside for it. She did so, and wasvanquished. The youth carried off his prize. 

But the lovers were so full of their own happiness that theyforgot to pay due honor to Venus; and the goddess was provoked attheir ingratitude. She caused them to give offence to Cybele. Thatpowerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity. She tookfrom them their human form and turned them into animals ofcharacters resembling their own: of the huntress-heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and ofher lord and master a lion, and yoked them to her car, where theyare still to be seen in all representations, in statuary orpainting, of the goddess Cybele. 

Cybele is the Latin name of the goddess called by the Greeks Rheaand Ops. She was the wife of Cronos and mother of Zeus. In worksof art she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes Juno andCeres. Sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lionsat her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions. She wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved inthe form of towers and battlements. Her priests were calledCorybantes. 

Byron, in describing the city of Venice, which is built on a lowisland in the Adriatic Sea, borrows an illustration from Cybele:

 "She looks a sea-Cybele fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers. "

 --Childe Harold, IV. 

In Moore's "Rhymes on the Road, " the poet, speaking of Alpinescenery, alludes to the story of Atalanta and Hippomenes thus:

 "Even here, in this region of wonders, I find That light-footed Fancy leaves Truth far behind, Or at least, like Hippomenes, turns her astray By the golden illusions he flings in her way. "

CHAPTER XIX

HERCULES--HEBE AND GANYMEDE

HERCULES

Hercules was the son of Jupiter and Alcmena. As Juno was alwayshostile to the offspring of her husband by mortal mothers, shedeclared war against Hercules from his birth. She sent twoserpents to destroy him as he lay in his cradle, but theprecocious infant strangled them with his own hands. He was, however, by the arts of Juno rendered subject to Eurystheus andcompelled to perform all his commands. Eurystheus enjoined uponhim a succession of desperate adventures, which are called the"Twelve Labors of Hercules. " The first was the fight with theNemean lion. The valley of Nemea was infested by a terrible lion. Eurystheus ordered Hercules to bring him the skin of this monster. After using in vain his club and arrows against the lion, Herculesstrangled the animal with his hands. He returned carrying the deadlion on his shoulders; but Eurystheus was so frightened at thesight of it and at this proof of the prodigious strength of thehero, that he ordered him to deliver the account of his exploitsin future outside the town. 

His next labor was the slaughter of the Hydra. This monsterravaged the country of Argos, and dwelt in a swamp near the wellof Amymone. This well had been discovered by Amymone when thecountry was suffering from drought, and the story was thatNeptune, who loved her, had permitted her to touch the rock withhis trident, and a spring of three outlets burst forth. Here theHydra took up his position, and Hercules was sent to destroy him. The Hydra had nine heads, of which the middle one was immortal. Hercules struck off its heads with his club, but in the place ofthe head knocked off, two new ones grew forth each time. At lengthwith the assistance of his faithful servant Iolaus, he burned awaythe heads of the Hydra, and buried the ninth or immortal one undera huge rock. 

Another labor was the cleaning of the Augean stables. Augeas, kingof Elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen, whose stalls had notbeen cleansed for thirty years. Hercules brought the riversAlpheus and Peneus through them, and cleansed them thoroughly inone day. 

His next labor was of a more delicate kind. Admeta, the daughterof Eurystheus, longed to obtain the girdle of the queen of theAmazons, and Eurystheus ordered Hercules to go and get it. TheAmazons were a nation of women. They were very warlike and heldseveral flourishing cities. It was their custom to bring up onlythe female children; the boys were either sent away to theneighboring nations or put to death. Hercules was accompanied by anumber of volunteers, and after various adventures at last reachedthe country of the Amazons. Hippolyta, the queen, received himkindly, and consented to yield him her girdle, but Juno, takingthe form of an Amazon, went and persuaded the rest that thestrangers were carrying off their queen. They instantly armed andcame in great numbers down to the ship. Hercules, thinking thatHippolyta had acted treacherously, slew her, and taking her girdlemade sail homewards. 

Another task enjoined him was to bring to Eurystheus the oxen ofGeryon, a monster with three bodies, who dwelt in the islandErytheia (the red), so called because it lay at the west, underthe rays of the setting sun. This description is thought to applyto Spain, of which Geryon was king. After traversing variouscountries, Hercules reached at length the frontiers of Libya andEurope, where he raised the two mountains of Calpe and Abyla, asmonuments of his progress, or, according to another account, rentone mountain into two and left half on each side, forming thestraits of Gibraltar, the two mountains being called the Pillarsof Hercules. The oxen were guarded by the giant Eurytion and histwo-headed dog, but Hercules killed the giant and his dog andbrought away the oxen in safety to Eurystheus. 

The most difficult labor of all was getting the golden apples ofthe Hesperides, for Hercules did not know where to find them. These were the apples which Juno had received at her wedding fromthe goddess of the Earth, and which she had intrusted to thekeeping of the daughters of Hesperus, assisted by a watchfuldragon. After various adventures Hercules arrived at Mount Atlasin Africa. Atlas was one of the Titans who had warred against thegods, and after they were subdued, Atlas was condemned to bear onhis shoulders the weight of the heavens. He was the father of theHesperides, and Hercules thought might, if any one could, find theapples and bring them to him. But how to send Atlas away from hispost, or bear up the heavens while he was gone? Hercules took theburden on his own shoulders, and sent Atlas to seek the apples. Hereturned with them, and though somewhat reluctantly, took hisburden upon his shoulders again, and let Hercules return with theapples to Eurystheus. 

Milton, in his "Comus, " makes the Hesperides the daughters ofHesperus and nieces of Atlas:

 "... Amidst the gardens fair Of Hesperus and his daughters three, That sing about the golden tree. "

The poets, led by the analogy of the lovely appearance of thewestern sky at sunset, viewed the west as a region of brightnessand glory. Hence they placed in it the Isles of the Blest, theruddy Isle Erythea, on which the bright oxen of Geryon werepastured, and the Isle of the Hesperides. The apples are supposedby some to be the oranges of Spain, of which the Greeks had heardsome obscure accounts. 

A celebrated exploit of Hercules was his victory over Antaeus. Antaeus, the son of Terra, the Earth, was a mighty giant andwrestler, whose strength was invincible so long as he remained incontact with his mother Earth. He compelled all strangers who cameto his country to wrestle with him, on condition that if conquered(as they all were) they should be put to death. Herculesencountered him, and finding that it was of no avail to throw him, for he always rose with renewed strength from every fall, helifted him up from the earth and strangled him in the air. 

Cacus was a huge giant, who inhabited a cave on Mount Aventine, and plundered the surrounding country. When Hercules was drivinghome the oxen of Geryon, Cacus stole part of the cattle, while thehero slept. That their footprints might not serve to show wherethey had been driven, he dragged them backward by their tails tohis cave; so their tracks all seemed to show that they had gone inthe opposite direction. Hercules was deceived by this stratagem, and would have failed to find his oxen, if it had not happenedthat in driving the remainder of the herd past the cave where thestolen ones were concealed, those within began to low, and werethus discovered. Cacus was slain by Hercules. 

The last exploit we shall record was bringing Cerberus from thelower world. Hercules descended into Hades, accompanied by Mercuryand Minerva. He obtained permission from Pluto to carry Cerberusto the upper air, provided he could do it without the use ofweapons; and in spite of the monster's struggling, he seized him, held him fast, and carried him to Eurystheus, and afterwardsbrought him back again. When he was in Hades he obtained theliberty of Theseus, his admirer and imitator, who had beendetained a prisoner there for an unsuccessful attempt to carry offProserpine. 

Hercules in a fit of madness killed his friend Iphitus, and wascondemned for this offence to become the slave of Queen Omphalefor three years. While in this service the hero's nature seemedchanged. He lived effeminately, wearing at times the dress of awoman, and spinning wool with the hand-maidens of Omphale, whilethe queen wore his lion's skin. When this service was ended hemarried Dejanira and lived in peace with her three years. On oneoccasion as he was travelling with his wife, they came to a river, across which the Centaur Nessus carried travellers for a statedfee. Hercules himself forded the river, but gave Dejanira toNessus to be carried across. Nessus attempted to run away withher, but Hercules heard her cries and shot an arrow into the heartof Nessus. The dying Centaur told Dejanira to take a portion ofhis blood and keep it, as it might be used as a charm to preservethe love of her husband. 

Dejanira did so and before long fancied she had occasion to useit. Hercules in one of his conquests had taken prisoner a fairmaiden, named Iole, of whom he seemed more fond than Dejaniraapproved. When Hercules was about to offer sacrifices to the godsin honor of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white robe touse on the occasion. Dejanira, thinking it a good opportunity totry her love-spell, steeped the garment in the blood of Nessus. Weare to suppose she took care to wash out all traces of it, but themagic power remained, and as soon as the garment became warm onthe body of Hercules the poison penetrated into all his limbs andcaused him the most intense agony. In his frenzy he seized Lichas, who had brought him the fatal robe, and hurled him into the sea. He wrenched off the garment, but it stuck to his flesh, and withit he tore away whole pieces of his body. In this state heembarked on board a ship and was conveyed home. Dejanira, onseeing what she had unwittingly done, hung herself. Hercules, prepared to die, ascended Mount Oeta, where he built a funeralpile of trees, gave his bow and arrows to Philoctetes, and laidhimself down on the pile, his head resting on his club, and hislion's skin spread over him. With a countenance as serene as if hewere taking his place at a festal board he commanded Philoctetesto apply the torch. The flames spread apace and soon invested thewhole mass. 

Milton thus alludes to the frenzy of Hercules:

 "As when Alcides, from Oechalia crowned With conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore, Through pain, up by the roots Thessalian pines And Lichas from the top of Oeta threw Into the Euboic Sea. "

[Footnote: Alcides, a name of Hercules. ]

The gods themselves felt troubled at seeing the champion of theearth so brought to his end. But Jupiter with cheerful countenancethus addressed them: "I am pleased to see your concern, myprinces, and am gratified to perceive that I am the ruler of aloyal people, and that my son enjoys your favor. For although yourinterest in him arises from his noble deeds, yet it is not theless gratifying to me. But now I say to you, Fear not. He whoconquered all else is not to be conquered by those flames whichyou see blazing on Mount Oeta. Only his mother's share in him canperish; what he derived from me is immortal. I shall take him, dead to earth, to the heavenly shores, and I require of you all toreceive him kindly. If any of you feel grieved at his attainingthis honor, yet no one can deny that he has deserved it. " The godsall gave their assent; Juno only heard the closing words with somedispleasure that she should be so particularly pointed at, yet notenough to make her regret the determination of her husband. Sowhen the flames had consumed the mother's share of Hercules, thediviner part, instead of being injured thereby, seemed to startforth with new vigor, to assume a more lofty port and a more awfuldignity. Jupiter enveloped him in a cloud, and took him up in afour-horse chariot to dwell among the stars. As he took his placein heaven, Atlas felt the added weight. 

Juno, now reconciled to him, gave him her daughter Hebe inmarriage. 

The poet Schiller, in one of his pieces called the "Ideal andLife, " illustrates the contrast between the practical and theimaginative in some beautiful stanzas, of which the last two maybe thus translated:

 "Deep degraded to a coward's slave, Endless contests bore Alcides brave, Through the thorny path of suffering led; Slew the Hydra, crushed the lion's might, Threw himself, to bring his friend to light, Living, in the skiff that bears the dead. All the torments, every toil of earth Juno's hatred on him could impose, Well he bore them, from his fated birth To life's grandly mournful close. 

 "Till the god, the earthly part forsaken, From the man in flames asunder taken, Drank the heavenly ether's purer breath. Joyous in the new unwonted lightness, Soared he upwards to celestial brightness, Earth's dark heavy burden lost in death. High Olympus gives harmonious greeting To the hall where reigns his sire adored; Youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting, Gives the nectar to her lord. "

 --S. G. B. 

HEBE AND GANYMEDE

Hebe, the daughter of Juno, and goddess of youth, was cup-bearerto the gods. The usual story is that she resigned her office onbecoming the wife of Hercules. But there is another statementwhich our countryman Crawford, the sculptor, has adopted in hisgroup of Hebe and Ganymede, now in the Athenaeum gallery. According to this, Hebe was dismissed from her office inconsequence of a fall which she met with one day when inattendance on the gods. Her successor was Ganymede, a Trojan boy, whom Jupiter, in the disguise of an eagle, seized and carried offfrom the midst of his playfellows on Mount Ida, bore up to heaven, and installed in the vacant place. 

Tennyson, in his "Palace of Art, " describes among the decorationson the walls a picture representing this legend:

 "There, too, flushed Ganymede, his rosy thigh Half buried in the eagle's down, Sole as a flying star shot through the sky Above the pillared town. "

And in Shelley's "Prometheus" Jupiter calls to his cup-bearerthus:

 "Pour forth heaven's wine, Idaean Ganymede, And let it fill the Daedal cups like fire. "

The beautiful legend of the "Choice of Hercules" may be found inthe "Tatler, " No. 97. 

CHAPTER XX

THESEUS--DAEDALUS--CASTOR AND POLLUX

THESEUS

Theseus was the son of Aegeus, king of Athens, and of Aethra, daughter of the king of Troezen. He was brought up at Troezen, andwhen arrived at manhood was to proceed to Athens and presenthimself to his father. Aegeus on parting from Aethra, before thebirth of his son, placed his sword and shoes under a large stoneand directed her to send his son to him when he became strongenough to roll away the stone and take them from under it. Whenshe thought the time had come, his mother led Theseus to thestone, and he removed it with ease and took the sword and shoes. As the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather pressedhim earnestly to take the shorter and safer way to his father'scountry--by sea; but the youth, feeling in himself the spirit andthe soul of a hero, and eager to signalize himself like Hercules, with whose fame all Greece then rang, by destroying the evil-doersand monsters that oppressed the country, determined on the moreperilous and adventurous journey by land. 

His first day's journey brought him to Epidaurus, where dwelt aman named Periphetes, a son of Vulcan. This ferocious savagealways went armed with a club of iron, and all travellers stood interror of his violence. When he saw Theseus approach he assailedhim, but speedily fell beneath the blows of the young hero, whotook possession of his club and bore it ever afterwards as amemorial of his first victory. 

Several similar contests with the petty tyrants and marauders ofthe country followed, in all of which Theseus was victorious. Oneof these evil-doers was called Procrustes, or the Stretcher. Hehad an iron bedstead, on which he used to tie all travellers whofell into his hands. If they were shorter than the bed, hestretched their limbs to make them fit it; if they were longerthan the bed, he lopped off a portion. Theseus served him as hehad served others. 

Having overcome all the perils of the road, Theseus at lengthreached Athens, where new dangers awaited him. Medea, thesorceress, who had fled from Corinth after her separation fromJason, had become the wife of Aegeus, the father of Theseus. Knowing by her arts who he was, and fearing the loss of herinfluence with her husband if Theseus should be acknowledged ashis son, she filled the mind of Aegeus with suspicions of theyoung stranger, and induced him to present him a cup of poison;but at the moment when Theseus stepped forward to take it, thesight of the sword which he wore discovered to his father who hewas, and prevented the fatal draught. Medea, detected in her arts, fled once more from deserved punishment, and arrived in Asia, where the country afterwards called Media received its name fromher, Theseus was acknowledged by his father, and declared hissuccessor. 

The Athenians were at that time in deep affliction, on account ofthe tribute which they were forced to pay to Minos, king of Crete. This tribute consisted of seven youths and seven maidens, who weresent every year to be devoured by the Minotaur, a monster with abull's body and a human head. It was exceedingly strong andfierce, and was kept in a labyrinth constructed by Daedalus, soartfully contrived that whoever was enclosed in it could by nomeans, find his way out unassisted. Here the Minotaur roamed, andwas fed with human victims. 

Theseus resolved to deliver his countrymen from this calamity, orto die in the attempt. Accordingly, when the time of sending offthe tribute came, and the youths and maidens were, according tocustom, drawn by lot to be sent, he offered himself as one of thevictims, in spite of the entreaties of his father. The shipdeparted under black sails, as usual, which Theseus promised hisfather to change for white, in case of his returning victorious. When they arrived in Crete, the youths and maidens were exhibitedbefore Minos; and Ariadne, the daughter of the king, beingpresent, became deeply enamored of Theseus, by whom her love wasreadily returned. She furnished him with a sword, with which toencounter the Minotaur, and with a clew of thread by which hemight find his way out of the labyrinth. He was successful, slewthe Minotaur, escaped from the labyrinth, and taking Ariadne asthe companion of his way, with his rescued companions sailed forAthens. On their way they stopped at the island of Naxos, whereTheseus abandoned Ariadne, leaving her asleep. [Footnote: One ofthe finest pieces of sculpture in Italy, the recumbent Ariadne ofthe Vatican, represents this incident. A copy is owned by theAthenaeum, Boston, and deposited, in the Museum of Fine Arts. ] Hisexcuse for this ungrateful treatment of his benefactress was thatMinerva appeared to him in a dream and commanded him to do so. 

On approaching the coast of Attica, Theseus forgot the signalappointed by his father, and neglected to raise the white sails, and the old king, thinking his son had perished, put an end to hisown life. Theseus thus became king of Athens. 

One of the most celebrated of the adventures of Theseus is hisexpedition against the Amazons. He assailed them before they hadrecovered from the attack of Hercules, and carried off their queenAntiope. The Amazons in their turn invaded the country of Athensand penetrated into the city itself; and the final battle in whichTheseus overcame them was fought in the very midst of the city. This battle was one of the favorite subjects of the ancientsculptors, and is commemorated in several works of art that arestill extant. 

The friendship between Theseus and Pirithous was of a mostintimate nature, yet it originated in the midst of arms. Pirithoushad made an irruption into the plain of Marathon, and carried offthe herds of the king of Athens. Theseus went to repel theplunderers. The moment Pirithous beheld him, he was seized withadmiration; he stretched out his hand as a token of peace, andcried, "Be judge thyself--what satisfaction dost thou require?""Thy friendship, " replied the Athenian, and they swore inviolablefidelity. Their deeds corresponded to their professions, and theyever continued true brothers in arms. Each of them aspired toespouse a daughter of Jupiter. Theseus fixed his choice on Helen, then but a child, afterwards so celebrated as the cause of theTrojan war, and with the aid of his friend he carried her off. Pirithous aspired to the wife of the monarch of Erebus; andTheseus, though aware of the danger, accompanied the ambitiouslover in his descent to the under-world. But Pluto seized and setthem on an enchanted rock at his palace gate, where they remainedtill Hercules arrived and liberated Theseus, leaving Pirithous tohis fate. 

After the death of Antiope, Theseus married Phaedra, daughter ofMinos, king of Crete. Phaedra saw in Hippolytus, the son ofTheseus, a youth endowed with all the graces and virtues of hisfather, and of an age corresponding to her own. She loved him, buthe repulsed her advances, and her love was changed to hate. Sheused her influence over her infatuated husband to cause him to bejealous of his son, and he imprecated the vengeance of Neptuneupon him. As Hippolytus was one day driving his chariot along theshore, a sea-monster raised himself above the waters, andfrightened the horses so that they ran away and dashed the chariotto pieces. Hippolytus was killed, but by Diana's assistanceAesculapius restored him to life. Diana removed Hippolytus fromthe power of his deluded father and false stepmother, and placedhim in Italy under the protection of the nymph Egeria. 

Theseus at length lost the favor of his people, and retired to thecourt of Lycomedes, king of Scyros, who at first received himkindly, but afterwards treacherously slew him. In a later age theAthenian general Cimon discovered the place where his remains werelaid, and caused them to be removed to Athens, where they weredeposited in a temple called the Theseum, erected in honor of thehero. 

The queen of the Amazons whom Theseus espoused is by some calledHippolyta. That is the name she bears in Shakspeare's "MidsummerNight's Dream, "--the subject of which is the festivities attendingthe nuptials of Theseus and Hippolyta. 

Mrs. Hemans has a poem on the ancient Greek tradition that the"Shade of Theseus" appeared strengthening his countrymen at thebattle of Marathon. 

Theseus is a semi-historical personage. It is recorded of him thathe united the several tribes by whom the territory of Attica wasthen possessed into one state, of which Athens was the capital. Incommemoration of this important event, he instituted the festivalof Panathenaea, in honor of Minerva, the patron deity of Athens. This festival differed from the other Grecian games chiefly in twoparticulars. It was peculiar to the Athenians, and its chieffeature was a solemn procession in which the Peplus, or sacredrobe of Minerva, was carried to the Parthenon, and suspendedbefore the statue of the goddess. The Peplus was covered withembroidery, worked by select virgins of the noblest families inAthens. The procession consisted of persons of all ages and bothsexes. The old men carried olive branches in their hands, and theyoung men bore arms. The young women carried baskets on theirheads, containing the sacred utensils, cakes, and all thingsnecessary for the sacrifices. The procession formed the subject ofthe bas-reliefs which embellished the outside of the temple of theParthenon. A considerable portion of these sculptures is now inthe British Museum among those known as the "Elgin marbles. "

OLYMPIC AND OTHER GAMES

It seems not inappropriate to mention here the other celebratednational games of the Greeks. The first and most distinguishedwere the Olympic, founded, it was said, by Jupiter himself. Theywere celebrated at Olympia in Elis. Vast numbers of spectatorsflocked to them from every part of Greece, and from Asia, Africa, and Sicily. They were repeated every fifth year in mid-summer, and continued five days. They gave rise to the custom of reckoningtime and dating events by Olympiads. The first Olympiad isgenerally considered as corresponding with the year 776 B. C. ThePythian games were celebrated in the vicinity of Delphi, theIsthmian on the Corinthian isthmus, the Nemean at Nemea, a city ofArgolis. 

The exercises in these games were of five sorts: running, leaping, wrestling, throwing the quoit, and hurling the javelin, or boxing. Besides these exercises of bodily strength and agility, there werecontests in music, poetry, and eloquence. Thus these gamesfurnished poets, musicians, and authors the best opportunities topresent their productions to the public, and the fame of thevictors was diffused far and wide. 

DAEDALUS

The labyrinth from which Theseus escaped by means of the clew ofAriadne was built by Daedalus, a most skilful artificer. It was anedifice with numberless winding passages and turnings opening intoone another, and seeming to have neither beginning nor end, likethe river Maeander, which returns on itself, and flows now onward, now backward, in its course to the sea. Daedalus built thelabyrinth for King Minos, but afterwards lost the favor of theking, and was shut up in a tower. He contrived to make his escapefrom his prison, but could not leave the island by sea, as theking kept strict watch on all the vessels, and permitted none tosail without being carefully searched. "Minos may control the landand sea, " said Daedalus, "but not the regions of the air. I willtry that way. " So he set to work to fabricate wings for himselfand his young son Icarus. He wrought feathers together, beginningwith the smallest and adding larger, so as to form an increasingsurface. The larger ones he secured with thread and the smallerwith wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like the wings ofa bird. Icarus, the boy, stood and looked on, sometimes running togather up the feathers which the wind had blown away, and thenhandling the wax and working it over with his fingers, by his playimpeding his father in his labors. When at last the work was done, the artist, waving his wings, found himself buoyed upward, andhung suspended, poising himself on the beaten air. He nextequipped his son in the same manner, and taught him how to fly, asa bird tempts her young ones from the lofty nest into the air. When all was prepared for flight he said, "Icarus, my son, Icharge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too lowthe damp will clog your wings, and if too high the heat will meltthem. Keep near me and you will be safe. " While he gave him theseinstructions and fitted the wings to his shoulders, the face ofthe father was wet with tears, and his hands trembled. He kissedthe boy, not knowing that it was for the last time. Then rising onhis wings, he flew off, encouraging him to follow, and looked backfrom his own flight to see how his son managed his wings. As theyflew the ploughman stopped his work to gaze, and the shepherdleaned on his staff and watched them, astonished at the sight, andthinking they were gods who could thus cleave the air. 

They passed Samos and Delos on the left and Lebynthos on theright, when the boy, exulting in his career, began to leave theguidance of his companion and soar upward as if to reach heaven. The nearness of the blazing sun softened the wax which held thefeathers together, and they came off. He fluttered with his arms, but no feathers remained to hold the air. While his mouth utteredcries to his father it was submerged in the blue waters of thesea, which thenceforth was called by his name. His father cried, "Icarus, Icarus, where are you?" At last he saw the feathersfloating on the water, and bitterly lamenting his own arts, heburied the body and called the land Icaria in memory of his child. Daedalus arrived safe in Sicily, where he built a temple toApollo, and hung up his wings, an offering to the god. 

Daedalus was so proud of his achievements that he could not bearthe idea of a rival. His sister had placed her son Perdix underhis charge to be taught the mechanical arts. He was an apt scholarand gave striking evidences of ingenuity. Walking on the seashorehe picked up the spine of a fish. Imitating it, he took a piece ofiron and notched it on the edge, and thus invented the SAW. He puttwo pieces of iron together, connecting them at one end with arivet, and sharpening the other ends, and made a PAIR OFCOMPASSES. Daedalus was so envious of his nepnew's performancesthat he took an opportunity, when they were together one day onthe top of a high tower, to push him off. But Minerva, who favorsingenuity, saw him falling, and arrested his fate by changing himinto a bird called after his name, the Partridge. This bird doesnot build his nest in the trees, nor take lofty flights, butnestles in the hedges, and mindful of his fall, avoids highplaces. 

The death of Icarus is told in the following lines by Darwin:

 "... With melting wax and loosened strings Sunk hapless Icarus on unfaithful wings; Headlong he rushed through the affrighted air, With limbs distorted and dishevelled hair; His scattered plumage danced upon the wave, And sorrowing Nereids decked his watery grave; O'er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed, And strewed with crimson moss his marble bed; Struck in their coral towers the passing bell, And wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell. "

CASTOR AND POLLUX

Castor and Pollux were the offspring of Leda and the Swan, underwhich disguise Jupiter had concealed himself. Leda gave birth toan egg from which sprang the twins. Helen, so famous afterwards asthe cause of the Trojan war, was their sister. 

When Theseus and his friend Pirithous had carried off Helen fromSparta, the youthful heroes Castor and Pollux, with theirfollowers, hastened to her rescue. Theseus was absent from Atticaand the brothers were successful in recovering their sister. 

Castor was famous for taming and managing horses, and Pollux forskill in boxing. They were united by the warmest affection andinseparable in all their enterprises. They accompanied theArgonautic expedition. During the voyage a storm arose, andOrpheus prayed to the Samothracian gods, and played on his harp, whereupon the storm ceased and stars appeared on the heads of thebrothers. From this incident, Castor and Pollux came afterwards tobe considered the patron deities of seamen and voyagers, and thelambent flames, which in certain states of the atmosphere playround the sails and masts of vessels, were called by their names. 

After the Argonautic expedition, we find Castor and Pollux engagedin a war with Idas and Lynceus. Castor was slain, and Pollux, inconsolable for the loss of his brother, besought Jupiter to bepermitted to give his own life as a ransom for him. Jupiter so farconsented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon of lifealternately, passing one day under the earth and the next in theheavenly abodes. According to another form of the story, Jupiterrewarded the attachment of the brothers by placing them among thestars as Gemini the Twins. 

They received divine honors under the name of Dioscuri (sons ofJove). They were believed to have appeared occasionally in latertimes, taking part with one side or the other, in hard-foughtfields, and were said on such occasions to be mounted onmagnificent white steeds. Thus in the early history of Rome theyare said to have assisted the Romans at the battle of LakeRegillus, and after the victory a temple was erected in theirhonor on the spot where they appeared. 

Macaulay, in his "Lays of Ancient Rome, " thus alludes to thelegend:

 "So like they were, no mortal Might one from other know; White as snow their armor was, Their steeds were white as snow. Never on earthly anvil Did such rare armor gleam, And never did such gallant steeds Drink of an earthly stream. 

 "Back comes the chief in triumph Who in the hour of fight Hath seen the great Twin Brethren In harness on his right. Safe comes the ship to haven, Through billows and through gales. If once the great Twin Brethren Sit shining on the sails. "

CHAPTER XXI

BACCHUS--ARIADNE

BACCHUS

Bacchus was the son of Jupiter and Semele. Juno, to gratify herresentment against Semele, contrived a plan for her destruction. Assuming the form of Beroe, her aged nurse, she insinuated doubtswhether it was indeed Jove himself who came as a lover. Heaving asigh, she said, "I hope it will turn out so, but I can't helpbeing afraid. People are not always what they pretend to be. If heis indeed Jove, make him give some proof of it. Ask him to comearrayed in all his splendors, such as he wears in heaven. Thatwill put the matter beyond a doubt. " Semele was persuaded to trythe experiment. She asks a favor, without naming what it is. Jovegives his promise, and confirms it with the irrevocable oath, attesting the river Styx, terrible to the gods themselves. Thenshe made known her request. The god would have stopped her as shespake, but she was too quick for him. The words escaped, and hecould neither unsay his promise nor her request. In deep distresshe left her and returned to the upper regions. There he clothedhimself in his splendors, not putting on all his terrors, as whenhe overthrew the giants, but what is known among the gods as hislesser panoply. Arrayed in this, he entered the chamber of Semele. Her mortal frame could not endure the splendors of the immortalradiance. She was consumed to ashes. 

Jove took the infant Bacchus and gave him in charge to the Nysaeannymphs, who nourished his infancy and childhood, and for theircare were rewarded by Jupiter by being placed, as the Hyades, among the stars. When Bacchus grew up he discovered the culture ofthe vine and the mode of extracting its precious juice; but Junostruck him with madness, and drove him forth a wanderer throughvarious parts of the earth. In Phrygia the goddess Rhea cured himand taught him her religious rites, and he set out on a progressthrough Asia, teaching the people the cultivation of the vine. Themost famous part of his wanderings is his expedition to India, which is said to have lasted several years. Returning in triumph, he undertook to introduce his worship into Greece, but was opposedby some princes, who dreaded its introduction on account of thedisorders and madness it brought with it. 

As he approached his native city Thebes, Pentheus the king, whohad no respect for the new worship, forbade its rites to beperformed. But when it was known that Bacchus was advancing, menand women, but chiefly the latter, young and old, poured forth tomeet him and to join his triumphal march. 

Mr. Longfellow in his "Drinking Song" thus describes the march ofBacchus:

 "Fauns with youthful Bacchus follow; Ivy crowns that brow, supernal As the forehead of Apollo, And possessing youth eternal. 

 "Round about him fair Bacchantes, Bearing cymbals, flutes and thyrses, Wild from Naxian groves of Zante's Vineyards, sing delirious verses, "

It was in vain Pentheus remonstrated, commanded, and threatened. "Go, " said he to his attendants, "seize this vagabond leader ofthe rout and bring him to me. I will soon make him confess hisfalse claim of heavenly parentage and renounce his counterfeitworship. " It was in vain his nearest friends and wisestcounsellors remonstrated and begged him not to oppose the god. Their remonstrances only made him more violent. 

But now the attendants returned whom he had despatched to seizeBacchus. They had been driven away by the Bacchanals, but hadsucceeded in taking one of them prisoner, whom, with his handstied behind him, they brought before the king. Pentheus, beholdinghim with wrathful countenance, said, "Fellow! you shall speedilybe put to death, that your fate may be a warning to others; butthough I grudge the delay of your punishment, speak, tell us whoyou are, and what are these new rites you presume to celebrate. "

The prisoner, unterrified, responded, "My name is Acetes; mycountry is Maeonia; my parents were poor people, who had no fieldsor flocks to leave me, but they left me their fishing rods andnets and their fisherman's trade. This I followed for some time, till growing weary of remaining in one place, I learned thepilot's art and how to guide my course by the stars. It happenedas I was sailing for Delos we touched at the island of Dia andwent ashore. Next morning I sent the men for fresh water, andmyself mounted the hill to observe the wind; when my men returnedbringing with them a prize, as they thought, a boy of delicateappearance, whom they had found asleep. They judged he was a nobleyouth, perhaps a king's son, and they might get a liberal ransomfor him. I observed his dress, his walk, his face. There wassomething in them which I felt sure was more than mortal. I saidto my men, 'What god there is concealed in that form I know not, but some one there certainly is. Pardon us, gentle deity, for theviolence we have done you, and give success to our undertakings. 'Dictys, one of my best hands for climbing the mast and coming downby the ropes, and Melanthus, my steersman, and Epopeus, the leaderof the sailor's cry, one and all exclaimed, 'Spare your prayersfor us. ' So blind is the lust of gain! When they proceeded to puthim on board I resisted them. 'This ship shall not be profaned bysuch impiety, ' said I. 'I have a greater share in her than any ofyou. ' But Lycabas, a turbulent fellow, seized me by the throat andattempted to throw me overboard, and I scarcely saved myself byclinging to the ropes. The rest approved the deed. 

"Then Bacchus (for it was indeed he), as if shaking off hisdrowsiness, exclaimed, 'What are you doing with me? What is thisfighting about? Who brought me here? Where are you going to carryme?' One of them replied, 'Fear nothing; tell us where you wish togo and we will take you there. ' 'Naxos is my home, ' said Bacchus;'take me there and you shall be well rewarded. ' They promised soto do, and told me to pilot the ship to Naxos. Naxos lay to theright, and I was trimming the sails to carry us there, when someby signs and others by whispers signified to me their will that Ishould sail in the opposite direction, and take the boy to Egyptto sell him for a slave. I was confounded and said, 'Let some oneelse pilot the ship;' withdrawing myself from any further agencyin their wickedness. They cursed me, and one of them, exclaiming, 'Don't flatter yourself that we depend on you for our safety;'took any place as pilot, and bore away from Naxos. 

"Then the god, pretending that he had just become aware of theirtreachery, looked out over the sea and said in a voice of weeping, 'Sailors, these are not the shores you promised to take me to;yonder island is not my home. What have I done that you shouldtreat me so? It is small glory you will gain by cheating a poorboy. ' I wept to hear him, but the crew laughed at both of us, andsped the vessel fast over the sea. All at once--strange as it mayseem, it is true, --the vessel stopped, in the mid sea, as fast asif it was fixed on the ground. The men, astonished, pulled attheir oars, and spread more sail, trying to make progress by theaid of both, but all in vain. Ivy twined round the oars andhindered their motion, and clung to the sails, with heavy clustersof berries. A vine, laden with grapes, ran up the mast, and alongthe sides of the vessel. The sound of flutes was heard and theodor of fragrant wine spread all around. The god himself had achaplet of vine leaves, and bore in his hand a spear wreathed withivy. Tigers crouched at his feet, and forms of lynxes and spottedpanthers played around him. The men were seized with terror ormadness; some leaped overboard; others preparing to do the samebeheld their companions in the water undergoing a change, theirbodies becoming flattened and ending in a crooked tail. Oneexclaimed, 'What miracle is this!' and as he spoke his mouthwidened, his nostrils expanded, and scales covered all his body. Another, endeavoring to pull the oar, felt his hands shrink up andpresently to be no longer hands but fins; another, trying to raisehis arms to a rope, found he had no arms, and curving hismutilated body, jumped into the sea. What had been his legs becamethe two ends of a crescent-shaped tail. The whole crew becamedolphins and swam about the ship, now upon the surface, now underit, scattering the spray, and spouting the water from their broadnostrils. Of twenty men I alone was left. Trembling with fear, thegod cheered me. 'Fear not, ' said he; 'steer towards Naxos. ' Iobeyed, and when we arrived there, I kindled the altars andcelebrated the sacred rites of Bacchus. "

Pentheus here exclaimed, "We have wasted time enough on this sillystory. Take him away and have him executed without delay. " Aceteswas led away by the attendants and shut up fast in prison; butwhile they were getting ready the instruments of execution theprison doors came open of their own accord and the chains fellfrom his limbs, and when they looked for him he was nowhere to befound. 

Pentheus would take no warning, but instead of sending others, determined to go himself to the scene of the solemnities. Themountain Citheron was all alive with worshippers, and the cries ofthe Bacchanals resounded on every side. The noise roused the angerof Pentheus as the sound of a trumpet does the fire of a war-horse. He penetrated through the wood and reached an open spacewhere the chief scene of the orgies met his eyes. At the samemoment the women saw him; and first among them his own mother, Agave, blinded by the god, cried out, "See there the wild boar, the hugest monster that prowls in these woods! Come on, sisters! Iwill be the first to strike the wild boar. " The whole band rushedupon him, and while he now talks less arrogantly, now excuseshimself, and now confesses his crime and implores pardon, theypress upon him and wound him. In vain he cries to his aunts toprotect him from his mother. Autonoe seized one arm, Ino theother, and between them he was torn to pieces, while his mothershouted, "Victory! Victory! we have done it; the glory is ours!"

So the worship of Bacchus was established in Greece. 

There is an allusion to the story of Bacchus and the mariners inMilton's "Comus, " at line 46, The story of Circe will be found in

CHAPTER XXIX. 

 "Bacchus that first from out the purple grapes Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, After the Tuscan manners transformed, Coasting the Tyrrhene shore as the winds listed On Circe's island fell (who knows not Circe, The daughter of the Sun? whose charmed cup Whoever tasted lost his upright shape, And downward fell into a grovelling swine). "

ARIADNE

We have seen in the story of Theseus how Ariadne, the daughter ofKing Minos, after helping Theseus to escape from the labyrinth, was carried by him to the island of Naxos and was left thereasleep, while the ungrateful Theseus pursued his way home withouther. Ariadne, on waking and finding herself deserted, abandonedherself to grief. But Venus took pity on her, and consoled herwith the promise that she should have an immortal lover, insteadof the mortal one she had lost. 

The island where Ariadne was left was the favorite island ofBacchus, the same that he wished the Tyrrhenian mariners to carryhim to, when they so treacherously attempted to make prize of him. As Ariadne sat lamenting her fate, Bacchus found her, consoledher, and made her his wife. As a marriage present he gave her agolden crown, enriched with gems, and when she died, he took hercrown and threw it up into the sky. As it mounted the gems grewbrighter and were turned into stars, and preserving its formAriadne's crown remains fixed in the heavens as a constellation, between the kneeling Hercules and the man who holds the serpent. 

Spenser alludes to Ariadne's crown, though he has made somemistakes in his mythology. It was at the wedding of Pirithous, andnot Theseus, that the Centaurs and Lapithae quarrelled. 

 "Look how the crown which Ariadne wore Upon her ivory forehead that same day That Theseus her unto his bridal bore, Then the bold Centaurs made that bloody fray With the fierce Lapiths which did them dismay; Being now placed in the firmament, Through the bright heaven doth her beams display, And is unto the stars an ornament, Which round about her move in order excellent. "

CHAPTER XXII

THE RURAL DEITIES--ERISICHTHON--RHOECUS--THE WATER DEITIES--CAMENAE--WINDS

THE RURAL DEITIES

Pan, the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shepherds, dweltin grottos, wandered on the mountains and in valleys, and amusedhimself with the chase or in leading the dances of the nymphs. Hewas fond of music, and as we have seen, the inventor of thesyrinx, or shepherd's pipe, which he himself played in a masterlymanner. Pan, like other gods who dwelt in forests, was dreaded bythose whose occupations caused them to pass through the woods bynight, for the gloom and loneliness of such scenes dispose themind to superstitious fears. Hence sudden fright without anyvisible cause was ascribed to Pan, and called a Panic terror. 

As the name of the god signifies ALL, Pan came to be considered asymbol of the universe and personification of Nature; and laterstill to be regarded as a representative of all the gods and ofheathenism itself. 

Sylvanus and Faunus were Latin divinities, whose characteristicsare so nearly the same as those of Pan that we may safely considerthem as the same personage under different names. 

The wood-nymphs, Pan's partners in the dance, were but one classof nymphs. There were beside them the Naiads, who presided overbrooks and fountains, the Oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottos, and the Nereids, sea-nymphs. The three last named were immortal, but the wood-nymphs, called Dryads or Hamadryads, were believed toperish with the trees which had been their abode and with whichthey had come into existence. It was therefore an impious actwantonly to destroy a tree, and in some aggravated cases wereseverely punished, as in the instance of Erisichthon, which we areabout to record. 

Milton in his glowing description of the early creation, thusalludes to Pan as the personification of Nature:

 "... Universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal spring. "

And describing Eve's abode:

 "... In shadier bower, More sacred or sequestered, though but feigned, Pan or Sylvanus never slept, nor nymph Nor Faunus haunted. "

 --Paradise Lost, B. IV. 

It was a pleasing trait in the old Paganism that it loved to tracein every operation of nature the agency of deity. The imaginationof the Greeks peopled all the regions of earth and sea withdivinities, to whose agency it attributed those phenomena whichour philosophy ascribes to the operation of the laws of nature. Sometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed to regret thechange, and to think that the heart has lost as much as the headhas gained by the substitution. The poet Wordsworth thus stronglyexpresses this sentiment:

 "... Great God, I'd rather be A Pagan, suckled in a creed outworn, So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, And hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. "

Schiller, in his poem "Die Gotter Griechenlands, " expresses hisregret for the overthrow of the beautiful mythology of ancienttimes in a way which has called forth an answer from a Christianpoet, Mrs. E. Barrett Browning, in her poem called "The Dead Pan. "The two following verses are a specimen:

 "By your beauty which confesses Some chief Beauty conquering you, By our grand heroic guesses Through your falsehood at the True, We will weep NOT! earth shall roll Heir to each god's aureole, And Pan is dead. 

 "Earth outgrows the mythic fancies Sung beside her in her youth; And those debonaire romances Sound but dull beside the truth. Phoebus' chariot course is run! Look up, poets, to the sun! Pan, Pan is dead. "

These lines are founded on an early Christian tradition that whenthe heavenly host told the shepherds at Bethlehem of the birth ofChrist, a deep groan, heard through all the isles of Greece, toldthat the great Pan was dead, and that all the royalty of Olympuswas dethroned and the several deities were sent wandering in coldand darkness. So Milton in his "Hymn on the Nativity":

 "The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; From haunted spring and dale, Edged with poplar pale, The parting Genius is with sighing sent; With flower-enwoven tresses torn, The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. "

ERISICHTHON

Erisichthon was a profane person and a despiser of the gods. Onone occasion he presumed to violate with the axe a grove sacred toCeres. There stood in this grove a venerable oak so large that itseemed a wood in itself, its ancient trunk towering aloft, whereonvotive garlands were often hung and inscriptions carved expressingthe gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of the tree. Often hadthe Dryads danced round it hand in hand. Its trunk measuredfifteen cubits round, and it overtopped the other trees as theyovertopped the shrubbery. But for all that, Erisichthon saw noreason why he should spare it and he ordered his servants to cutit down. When he saw them hesitate he snatched an axe from one, and thus impiously exclaimed: "I care not whether it be a treebeloved of the goddess or not; were it the goddess herself itshould come down if it stood in my way. " So saying, he lifted theaxe and the oak seemed to shudder and utter a groan. When thefirst blow fell upon the trunk blood flowed from the wound. Allthe bystanders were horror-struck, and one of them ventured toremonstrate and hold back the fatal axe. Erisichthon, with ascornful look, said to him, "Receive the reward of your piety;"and turned against him the weapon which he had held aside from thetree, gashed his body with many wounds, and cut off his head. Thenfrom the midst of the oak came a voice, "I who dwell in this treeam a nymph beloved of Ceres, and dying by your hands forewarn youthat punishment awaits you. " He desisted not from his crime, andat last the tree, sundered by repeated blows and drawn by ropes, fell with a crash and prostrated a great part of the grove in itsfall. 

The Dryads in dismay at the loss of their companion and at seeingthe pride of the forest laid low, went in a body to Ceres, allclad in garments of mourning, and invoked punishment uponErisichthon. She nodded her assent, and as she bowed her head thegrain ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also. She planneda punishment so dire that one would pity him, if such a culprit ashe could be pitied, --to deliver him over to Famine. As Ceresherself could not approach Famine, for the Fates have ordainedthat these two goddesses shall never come together, she called anOread from her mountain and spoke to her in these words: "There isa place in the farthest part of ice-clad Scythia, a sad andsterile region without trees and without crops. Cold dwells there, and Fear and Shuddering, and Famine. Go and tell the last to takepossession of the bowels of Erisichthon. Let not abundance subdueher, nor the power of my gifts drive her away. Be not alarmed atthe distance" (for Famine dwells very far from Ceres), "but takemy chariot. The dragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will takeyou through the air in a short time. " So she gave her the reins, and she drove away and soon reached Scythia. On arriving at MountCaucasus she stopped the dragons and found Famine in a stonyfield, pulling up with teeth and claws the scanty herbage. Herhair was rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her lips blanched, her jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight, so as toshow all her bones. As the Oread saw her afar off (for she did notdare to come near), she delivered the commands of Ceres; and, though she stopped as short a time as possible, and kept herdistance as well as she could, yet she began to feel hungry, andturned the dragons' heads and drove back to Thessaly. 

Famine obeyed the commands of Ceres and sped through the air tothe dwelling of Erisichthon, entered the bedchamber of the guiltyman, and found him asleep. She enfolded him with her wings andbreathed herself into him, infusing her poison into his veins. Having discharged her task, she hastened to leave the land ofplenty and returned to her accustomed haunts. Erisichthon stillslept, and in his dreams craved food, and moved his jaws as ifeating. When he awoke, his hunger was raging. Without a moment'sdelay he would have food set before him, of whatever kind earthsea, or air produces; and complained of hunger even while he ate. What would have sufficed for a city or a nation, was not enoughfor him. The more he ate the more he craved. His hunger was likethe sea, which receives all the rivers, yet is never filled; orlike fire, that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet isstill voracious for more. 

His property rapidly diminished under the unceasing demands of hisappetite, but his hunger continued unabated. At length he hadspent all and had only his daughter left, a daughter worthy of abetter parent. Her too he sold. She scorned to be the slave of apurchaser and as she stood by the seaside raised her hands inprayer to Neptune. He heard her prayer, and though her new masterwas not far off and had his eye upon her a moment before, Neptunechanged her form and made her assume that of a fisherman busy athis occupation. Her master, looking for her and seeing her in heraltered form, addressed her and said, "Good fisherman, whitherwent the maiden whom I saw just now, with hair dishevelled and inhumble garb, standing about where you stand? Tell me truly; so mayyour luck be good and not a fish nibble at your hook and getaway. " She perceived that her prayer was answered and rejoicedinwardly at hearing herself inquired of about herself. Shereplied, "Pardon me, stranger, but I have been so intent upon myline that I have seen nothing else; but I wish I may never catchanother fish if I believe any woman or other person except myselfto have been hereabouts for some time. " He was deceived and wenthis way, thinking his slave had escaped. Then she resumed her ownform. Her father was well pleased to find her still with him, andthe money too that he got by the sale of her; so he sold heragain. But she was changed by the favor of Neptune as often as shewas sold, now into a horse, now a bird, now an ox, and now astag, --got away from her purchasers and came home. By this basemethod the starving father procured food; but not enough for hiswants, and at last hunger compelled him to devour his limbs, andhe strove to nourish his body by eating his body, till deathrelieved him from the vengeance of Ceres. 

RHOECUS

The Hamadryads could appreciate services as well as punishinjuries. The story of Rhoecus proves this. Rhoecus, happening tosee an oak just ready to fall, ordered his servants to prop it up. The nymph, who had been on the point of perishing with the tree, came and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved her lifeand bade him ask what reward he would. Rhoecus boldly asked herlove and the nymph yielded to his desire. She at the same timecharged him to be constant and told him that a bee should be hermessenger and let him know when she would admit his society. Onetime the bee came to Rhoecus when he was playing at draughts andhe carelessly brushed it away. This so incensed the nymph that shedeprived him of sight. 

Our countryman, J. R. Lowell, has taken this story for the subjectof one of his shorter poems. He introduces it thus:

 "Hear now this fairy legend of old Greece, As full of freedom, youth and beauty still, As the immortal freshness of that grace Carved for all ages on some Attic frieze. "

THE WATER DEITIES

Oceanus and Tethys were the Titans who ruled over the wateryelement. When Jove and his brothers overthrew the Titans andassumed their power, Neptune and Amphitrite succeeded to thedominion of the waters in place of Oceanus and Tethys. 

NEPTUNE

Neptune was the chief of the water deities. The symbol of hispower was the trident, or spear with three points, with which heused to shatter rocks, to call forth or subdue storms, to shakethe shores and the like. He created the horse and was the patronof horse races. His own horses had brazen hoofs and golden manes. They drew his chariot over the sea, which became smooth beforehim, while the monsters of the deep gambolled about his path. 

AMPHITRITE

Amphitrite was the wife of Neptune. She was the daughter of Nereusand Doris, and the mother of Triton. Neptune, to pay his court toAmphitrite, came riding on a dolphin. Having won her he rewardedthe dolphin by placing him among the stars. 

NEREUS AND DORIS

Nereus and Doris were the parents of the Nereids, the mostcelebrated of whom were Amphitrite, Thetis, the mother ofAchilles, and Galatea, who was loved by the Cyclops Polyphemus. Nereus was distinguished for his knowledge and his love of truthand justice, whence he was termed an elder; the gift of prophecywas also assigned to him. 

TRITON AND PROTEUS

Triton was the son of Neptune and Amphitrite, and the poets makehim his father's trumpeter. Proteus was also a son of Neptune. He, like Nereus, is styled a sea-elder for his wisdom and knowledge offuture events. His peculiar power was that of changing his shapeat will. 

THETIS

Thetis, the daughter of Nereus and Doris, was so beautiful thatJupiter himself sought her in marriage; but having learned fromPrometheus the Titan that Thetis should bear a son who should growgreater than his father, Jupiter desisted from his suit anddecreed that Thetis should be the wife of a mortal. By the aid ofChiron the Centaur, Peleus succeeded in winning the goddess forhis bride and their son was the renowned Achilles. In our chapteron the Trojan war it will appear that Thetis was a faithful motherto him, aiding him in all difficulties, and watching over hisinterests from the first to the last. 

LEUCOTHEA AND PALAEMON

Ino, the daughter of Cadmus and wife of Athamas, flying from herfrantic husband with her little son Melicertes in her arms, sprangfrom a cliff into the sea. The gods, out of compassion, made her agoddess of the sea, under the name of Leucothea, and him a god, under that of Palaemon. Both were held powerful to save fromshipwreck and were invoked by sailors. Palaemon was usuallyrepresented riding on a dolphin. The Isthmian games werecelebrated in his honor. He was called Portunus by the Romans, andbelieved to have jurisdiction of the ports and shores. 

Milton alludes to all these deities in the song at the conclusionof "Comus":

 "... Sabrina fair, Listen and appear to us, In name of great Oceanus; By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace, And Tethys' grave, majestic pace, By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, And the Carpathian wizard's hook, [Footnote: Proteus] By scaly Triton's winding shell, And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell, By Leucothea's lovely hands, And her son who rules the strands. By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, And the songs of Sirens sweet;" etc. 

Armstrong, the poet of the "Art of preserving Health, " under theinspiration of Hygeia, the goddess of health, thus celebrates theNaiads. Paeon is a name both of Apollo and Aesculapius. 

 "Come, ye Naiads! to the fountains lead! Propitious maids! the task remains to sing Your gifts (so Paeon, so the powers of Health Command), to praise your crystal element. O comfortable streams! with eager lips And trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff New life in you; fresh vigor fills their veins. No warmer cups the rural ages knew, None warmer sought the sires of humankind; Happy in temperate peace their equal days Felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth And sick dejection; still serene and pleased, Blessed with divine immunity from ills, Long centuries they lived; their only fate Was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death. "

THE CAMENAE

By this name the Latins designated the Muses, but included underit also some other deities, principally nymphs of fountains. Egeria was one of them, whose fountain and grotto are still shown. It was said that Numa, the second king of Rome, was favored bythis nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught him thoselessons of wisdom and of law which he imbodied in the institutionsof his rising nation. After the death of Numa the nymph pined awayand was changed into a fountain. 

Byron, in "Childe Harold, " Canto IV. , thus alludes to Egeria andher grotto:

 "Here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover, Egeria! all thy heavenly bosom beating For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; The purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting With her most starry canopy;" etc. 

Tennyson, also, in his "Palace of Art, " gives us a glimpse of theroyal lover expecting the interview:

 "Holding one hand against his ear, To list a footfall ere he saw The wood-nymph, stayed the Tuscan king to hear Of wisdom and of law. "

THE WINDS

When so many less active agencies were personified, it is not tobe supposed that the winds failed to be so. They were Boreas orAquilo, the north wind; Zephyrus or Favonius, the west; Notus orAuster, the south; and Eurus, the east. The first two have beenchiefly celebrated by the poets, the former as the type ofrudeness, the latter of gentleness. Boreas loved the nymphOrithyia, and tried to play the lover's part, but met with poorsuccess. It was hard for him to breathe gently, and sighing wasout of the question. Weary at last of fruitless endeavors, heacted out his true character, seized the maiden and carried heroff. Their children were Zetes and Calais, winged warriors, whoaccompanied the Argonautic expedition, and did good service in anencounter with those monstrous birds the Harpies. 

Zephyrus was the lover of Flora. Milton alludes to them in"Paradise Lost, " where he describes Adam waking and contemplatingEve still asleep. 

 "... He on his side Leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love, Hung over her enamored, and beheld Beauty which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice, Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, Her hand soft touching, whispered thus: 'Awake! My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight. '"

Dr. Young, the poet of the "Night Thoughts, " addressing the idleand luxurious, says:

 "Ye delicate! who nothing can support (Yourselves most insupportable) for whom The winter rose must blow, ... ... And silky soft Favonius breathe still softer or be chid!"

CHAPTER XXIII

ACHELOUS AND HERCULES--ADMETUS AND ALCESTIS--ANTIGONE--PENELOPE

ACHELOUS AND HERCULES

The river-god Achelous told the story of Erisichthon to Theseusand his companions, whom he was entertaining at his hospitableboard, while they were delayed on their journey by the overflow ofhis waters. Having finished his story, he added, "But why should Itell of other persons' transformations when I myself am aninstance of the possession of this power? Sometimes I become aserpent, and sometimes a bull, with horns on my head. Or I shouldsay I once could do so; but now I have but one horn, having lostone. " And here he groaned and was silent. 

Theseus asked him the cause of his grief, and how he lost hishorn. To which question the river-god replied as follows: "Wholikes to tell of his defeats? Yet I will not hesitate to relatemine, comforting myself with the thought of the greatness of myconqueror, for it was Hercules. Perhaps you have heard of the fameof Dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host of suitors stroveto win. Hercules and myself were of the number, and the restyielded to us two. He urged in his behalf his descent from Joveand his labors by which he had exceeded the exactions of Juno, hisstepmother. I, on the other hand, said to the father of themaiden, 'Behold me, the king of the waters that flow through yourland. I am no stranger from a foreign shore, but belong to thecountry, a part of your realm. Let it not stand in my way thatroyal Juno owes me no enmity nor punishes me with heavy tasks. Asfor this man, who boasts himself the son of Jove, it is either afalse pretence, or disgraceful to him if true, for it cannot betrue except by his mother's shame. ' As I said this Herculesscowled upon me, and with difficulty restrained his rage. 'My handwill answer better than my tongue, ' said he. 'I yield to you thevictory in words, but trust my cause to the strife of deeds. ' Withthat he advanced towards me, and I was ashamed, after what I hadsaid, to yield. I threw off my green vesture and presented myselffor the struggle. He tried to throw me, now attacking my head, nowmy body. My bulk was my protection, and he assailed me in vain. For a time we stopped, then returned to the conflict. We each keptour position, determined not to yield, foot to foot, I bendingover him, clenching his hand in mine, with my forehead almosttouching his. Thrice Hercules tried to throw me off, and thefourth time he succeeded, brought me to the ground, and himselfupon my back. I tell you the truth, it was as if a mountain hadfallen on me. I struggled to get my arms at liberty, panting andreeking with perspiration. He gave me no chance to recover, butseized my throat. My knees were on the earth and my mouth in thedust. 

"Finding that I was no match for him in the warrior's art, Iresorted to others and glided away in the form of a serpent. Icurled my body in a coil and hissed at him with my forked tongue. He smiled scornfully at this, and said, 'It was the labor of myinfancy to conquer snakes. ' So saying he clasped my neck with hishands. I was almost choked, and struggled to get my neck out ofhis grasp. Vanquished in this form, I tried what alone remained tome and assumed the form of a bull. He grasped my neck with hisarm, and dragging my head down to the ground, overthrew me on thesand. Nor was this enough. His ruthless hand rent my horn from myhead. The Naiades took it, consecrated it, and filled it withfragrant flowers. Plenty adopted my horn and made it her own, andcalled it 'Cornucopia. '"

The ancients were fond of finding a hidden meaning in theirmythological tales. They explain this fight of Achelous withHercules by saying Achelous was a river that in seasons of rainoverflowed its banks. When the fable says that Achelous lovedDejanira, and sought a union with her, the meaning is that theriver in its windings flowed through part of Dejanira's kingdom. It was said to take the form of a snake because of its winding, and of a bull because it made a brawling or roaring in its course. When the river swelled, it made itself another channel. Thus itshead was horned. Hercules prevented the return of these periodicaloverflows by embankments and canals; and therefore he was said tohave vanquished the river-god and cut off his horn. Finally, thelands formerly subject to overflow, but now redeemed, became veryfertile, and this is meant by the horn of plenty. 

There is another account of the origin of the Cornucopia. Jupiterat his birth was committed by his mother Rhea to the care of thedaughters of Melisseus, a Cretan king. They fed the infant deitywith the milk of the goat Amalthea. Jupiter broke off one of thehorns of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and endowed it withthe wonderful power of becoming filled with whatever the possessormight wish. 

The name of Amalthea is also given by some writers to the motherof Bacchus. It is thus used by Milton, "Paradise Lost, " Book IV. :

 "... That Nyseian isle, Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham, Whom Gentiles Ammon call, and Libyan Jove, Hid Amalthea and her florid son, Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye. "

ADMETUS AND ALCESTIS

Aesculapius, the son of Apollo, was endowed by his father withsuch skill in the healing art that he even restored the dead tolife. At this Pluto took alarm, and prevailed on Jupiter to launcha thunderbolt at Aesculapius. Apollo was indignant at thedestruction of his son, and wreaked his vengeance on the innocentworkmen who had made the thunderbolt. These were the Cyclopes, whohave their workshop under Mount Aetna, from which the smoke andflames of their furnaces are constantly issuing. Apollo shot hisarrows at the Cyclopes, which so incensed Jupiter that hecondemned him as a punishment to become the servant of a mortalfor the space of one year. Accordingly Apollo went into theservice of Admetus, king of Thessaly, and pastured his flocks forhim on the verdant banks of the river Amphrysos. 

Admetus was a suitor, with others, for the hand of Alcestis, thedaughter of Pelias, who promised her to him who should come forher in a chariot drawn by lions and boars. This task Admetusperformed by the assistance of his divine herdsman, and was madehappy in the possession of Alcestis. But Admetus fell ill, andbeing near to death, Apollo prevailed on the Fates to spare him oncondition that some one would consent to die in his stead. Admetus, in his joy at this reprieve, thought little of theransom, and perhaps remembering the declarations of attachmentwhich he had often heard from his courtiers and dependents fanciedthat it would be easy to find a substitute. But it was not so. Brave warriors, who would willingly have perilled their lives fortheir prince, shrunk from the thought of dying for him on the bedof sickness; and old servants who had experienced his bounty andthat of his house from their childhood up, were not willing to laydown the scanty remnant of their days to show their gratitude. Menasked, "Why does not one of his parents do it? They cannot in thecourse of nature live much longer, and who can feel like them thecall to rescue the life they gave from an untimely end?" But theparents, distressed though they were at the thought of losing him, shrunk from the call. Then Alcestis, with a generous self-devotion, proffered herself as the substitute. Admetus, fond as hewas of life, would not have submitted to receive it at such acost; but there was no remedy. The condition imposed by the Fateshad been met, and the decree was irrevocable. Alcestis sickened asAdmetus revived, and she was rapidly sinking to the grave. 

Just at this time Hercules arrived at the palace of Admetus, andfound all the inmates in great distress for the impending loss ofthe devoted wife and beloved mistress. Hercules, to whom no laborwas too arduous, resolved to attempt her rescue. He went and layin wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen, and whenDeath came for his prey, he seized him and forced him to resignhis victim. Alcestis recovered, and was restored to her husband. 

Milton alludes to the story of Alcestis in his Sonnet "on hisdeceased wife:"

 "Methought I saw my late espoused saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint. "

J. R. Lowell has chosen the "Shepherd of King Admetus" for thesubject of a short poem. He makes that event the firstintroduction of poetry to men. 

 "Men called him but a shiftless youth, In whom no good they saw, And yet unwittingly, in truth, They made his careless words their law. 

 "And day by day more holy grew Each spot where he had trod, Till after-poets only knew Their first-born brother was a god. "

ANTIGONE

A large proportion both of the interesting persons and of theexalted acts of legendary Greece belongs to the female sex. Antigone was as bright an example of filial and sisterly fidelityas was Alcestis of connubial devotion. She was the daughter ofOedipus and Jocasta, who with all their descendants were thevictims of an unrelenting fate, dooming them to destruction. OEdipus in his madness had torn out his eyes, and was driven forthfrom his kingdom Thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all men, as anobject of divine vengeance. Antigone, his daughter, alone sharedhis wanderings and remained with him till he died, and thenreturned to Thebes. 

Her brothers, Eteocles and Polynices, had agreed to share thekingdom between them, and reign alternately year by year. Thefirst year fell to the lot of Eteocles, who, when his timeexpired, refused to surrender the kingdom to his brother. Polynices fled to Adrastus, king of Argos, who gave him hisdaughter in marriage, and aided him with an army to enforce hisclaim to the kingdom. This led to the celebrated expedition of the"Seven against Thebes, " which furnished ample materials for theepic and tragic poets of Greece. 

Amphiaraus, the brother-in-law of Adrastus, opposed theenterprise, for he was a soothsayer, and knew by his art that noone of the leaders except Adrastus would live to return. ButAmphiaraus, on his marriage to Eriphyle, the king's sister, hadagreed that whenever he and Adrastus should differ in opinion, thedecision should be left to Eriphyle. Polynices, knowing this, gaveEriphyle the collar of Harmonia, and thereby gained her to hisinterest. This collar or necklace was a present which Vulcan hadgiven to Harmonia on her marriage with Cadmus, and Polynices hadtaken it with him on his flight from Thebes. Eriphyle could notresist so tempting a bribe, and by her decision the war wasresolved on, and Amphiaraus went to his certain fate. He bore hispart bravely in the contest, but could not avert his destiny. Pursued by the enemy, he fled along the river, when a thunderboltlaunched by Jupiter opened the ground, and he, his chariot, andhis charioteer were swallowed up. 

It would not be in place here to detail all the acts of heroism oratrocity which marked the contest; but we must not omit to recordthe fidelity of Evadne as an offset to the weakness of Eriphyle. Capaneus, the husband of Evadne, in the ardor of the fightdeclared that he would force his way into the city in spite ofJove himself. Placing a ladder against the wall he mounted, butJupiter, offended at his impious language, struck him with athunderbolt. When his obsequies were celebrated, Evadne castherself on his funeral pile and perished. 

Early in the contest Eteocles consulted the soothsayer Tiresias asto the issue. Tiresias in his youth had by chance seen Minervabathing. The goddess in her wrath deprived him of his sight, butafterwards relenting gave him in compensation the knowledge offuture events. When consulted by Eteocles, he declared thatvictory should fall to Thebes if Menoeceus, the son of Creon, gavehimself a voluntary victim. The heroic youth, learning theresponse, threw away his life in the first encounter. 

The siege continued long, with various success. At length bothhosts agreed that the brothers should decide their quarrel bysingle combat. They fought and fell by each other's hands. Thearmies then renewed the fight, and at last the invaders wereforced to yield, and fled, leaving their dead unburied. Creon, theuncle of the fallen princes, now become king, caused Eteocles tobe buried with distinguished honor, but suffered the body ofPolynices to lie where it fell, forbidding every one on pain ofdeath to give it burial. 

Antigone, the sister of Polynices, heard with indignation therevolting edict which consigned her brother's body to the dogs andvultures, depriving it of those rites which were consideredessential to the repose of the dead. Unmoved by the dissuadingcounsel of an affectionate but timid sister, and unable to procureassistance, she determined to brave the hazard, and to bury thebody with her own hands. She was detected in the act, and Creongave orders that she should be buried alive, as havingdeliberately set at naught the solemn edict of the city. Herlover, Haemon, the son of Creon, unable to avert her fate, wouldnot survive her, and fell by his own hand. 

Antigone forms the subject of two fine tragedies of the Grecianpoet Sophocles. Mrs. Jameson, in her "Characteristics of Women, "has compared her character with that of Cordelia, in Shakspeare's"King Lear. " The perusal of her remarks cannot fail to gratify ourreaders. 

The following is the lamentation of Antigone over OEdipus, whendeath has at last relieved him from his sufferings:

 "Alas! I only wished I might have died With my poor father; wherefore should I ask For longer life? O, I was fond of misery with him; E'en what was most unlovely grew beloved When he was with me. O my dearest father, Beneath the earth now in deep darkness hid, Worn as thou wert with age, to me thou still Wast dear, and shalt be ever. "

 --Francklin's Sophocles. 

PENELOPE

Penelope is another of those mythic heroines whose beauties wererather those of character and conduct than of person. She was thedaughter of Icarius, a Spartan prince. Ulysses, king of Ithaca, sought her in marriage, and won her, over all competitors. Whenthe moment came for the bride to leave her father's house, Icarius, unable to bear the thoughts of parting with his daughter, tried to persuade her to remain with him, and not accompany herhusband to Ithaca. Ulysses gave Penelope her choice, to stay or gowith him. Penelope made no reply, but dropped her veil over herface. Icarius urged her no further, but when she was gone erecteda statue to Modesty on the spot where they parted. 

Ulysses and Penelope had not enjoyed their union more than a yearwhen it was interrupted by the events which called Ulysses to theTrojan war. During his long absence, and when it was doubtfulwhether he still lived, and highly improbable that he would everreturn, Penelope was importuned by numerous suitors, from whomthere seemed no refuge but in choosing one of them for herhusband. Penelope, however, employed every art to gain time, stillhoping for Ulysses' return. One of her arts of delay was engagingin the preparation of a robe for the funeral canopy of Laertes, her husband's father. She pledged herself to make her choice amongthe suitors when the robe was finished. During the day she workedat the robe, but in the night she undid the work of the day. Thisis the famous Penelope's web, which is used as a proverbialexpression for anything which is perpetually doing but never done. The rest of Penelope's history will be told when we give anaccount of her husband's adventures. 

CHAPTER XXIV

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE--ARISTAEUS--AMPHION--LINUS--THAMYRIS--MARSYAS--MELAMPUS--MUSAEUS

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

Orpheus was the son of Apollo and the Muse Calliope. He waspresented by his father with a Lyre and taught to play upon it, which he did to such perfection that nothing could withstand thecharm of his music. Not only his fellow-mortals but wild beastswere softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid bytheir fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. Nay, the verytrees and rocks were sensible to the charm. The former crowdedround him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes. 

Hymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials ofOrpheus with Eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no happyomens with him. His very torch smoked and brought tears into theireyes. In coincidence with such prognostics, Eurydice, shortlyafter her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, hercompanions, was seen by the shepherd Aristaeus, who was struckwith her beauty and made advances to her. She fled, and in flyingtrod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot, and died. Orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, bothgods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek hiswife in the regions of the dead. He descended by a cave situatedon the side of the promontory of Taenarus and arrived at theStygian realm. He passed through crowds of ghosts and presentedhimself before the throne of Pluto and Proserpine. Accompanyingthe words with the lyre, he sung, "O deities of the underworld, towhom all we who live must come, hear my words, for they are true. I come not to spy out the secrets of Tartarus, nor to try mystrength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guardsthe entrance. I come to seek my wife, whose opening years thepoisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely end. Love hasled me here, Love, a god all powerful with us who dwell on theearth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. Iimplore you by these abodes full of terror, these realms ofsilence and uncreated things, unite again the thread of Eurydice'slife. We all are destined to you and sooner or later must pass toyour domain. She too, when she shall have filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. But till then grant her to me, I beseechyou. If you deny me I cannot return alone; you shall triumph inthe death of us both. "

As he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. Tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his effortsfor water, Ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased to tearthe giant's liver, the daughters of Danaus rested from their taskof drawing water in a sieve, and Sisyphus sat on his rock tolisten. Then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of theFuries were wet with tears. Proserpine could not resist, and Plutohimself gave way. Eurydice was called. She came from among thenew-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. Orpheus waspermitted to take her away with him on one condition, that heshould not turn around to look at her till they should havereached the upper air. Under this condition they proceeded ontheir way, he leading, she following, through passages dark andsteep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the outletinto the cheerful upper world, when Orpheus, in a moment offorgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance behind him, when instantly she was borne away. Stretching out their arms to embrace each other, they grasped onlythe air! Dying now a second time, she yet cannot reproach herhusband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her?"Farewell, " she said, "a last farewell, "--and was hurried away, sofast that the sound hardly reached his ears. 

Orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission toreturn and try once more for her release; but the stern ferrymanrepulsed him and refused passage. Seven days he lingered about thebrink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of crueltythe powers of Erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks andmountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks fromtheir stations. He held himself aloof from womankind, dwellingconstantly on the recollection of his sad mischance. The Thracianmaidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed theiradvances. They bore with him as long as they could; but findinghim insensible one day, excited by the rites of Bacchus, one ofthem exclaimed, "See yonder our despiser!" and threw at him herjavelin. The weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of hislyre, fell harmless at his feet. So did also the stones that theythrew at him. But the women raised a scream and drowned the voiceof the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon werestained with his blood. The maniacs tore him limb from limb, andthrew his head and his lyre into the river Hebrus, down which theyfloated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded aplaintive symphony. The Muses gathered up the fragments of hisbody and buried them at Libethra, where the nightingale is said tosing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of Greece. His lyre was placed by Jupiter among the stars. His shade passed asecond time to Tartarus, where he sought out his Eurydice andembraced her with eager arms. They roam the happy fields togethernow, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and Orpheus gazes asmuch as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for athoughtless glance. 

The story of Orpheus has furnished Pope with an illustration ofthe power of music, for his "Ode for St. Cecilia's Day" Thefollowing stanza relates the conclusion of the story:

 "But soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes; Again she falls, again she dies, she dies! How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move? No crime was thine, if't is no crime to love. Now under hanging mountains, Beside the falls of fountains, Or where Hebrus wanders, Rolling in meanders, All alone, He makes his moan, And calls her ghost, Forever, ever, ever lost! Now with furies surrounded, Despairing, confounded, He trembles, he glows, Amidst Rhodope's snows See, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies; Hark! Haemus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries; Ah, see, he dies! Yet even in death Eurydice he sung, Eurydice still trembled on his tongue: Eurydice the woods Eurydice the floods Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung"

The superior melody of the nightingale's song over the grave ofOrpheus is alluded to by Southey in his "Thalaba":

 "Then on his ear what sounds Of harmony arose' Far music and the distance-mellowed song From bowers of merriment, The waterfall remote, The murmuring of the leafy groves; The single nightingale Perched in the rosier by, so richly toned, That never from that most melodious bird Singing a love song to his brooding mate, Did Thracian shepherd by the grave Of Orpheus hear a sweeter melody, Though there the spirit of the sepulchre All his own power infuse, to swell The incense that he loves"

ARISTAEUS, THE BEE-KEEPER

Man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals forhis own advantage. Hence sprang the art of keeping bees. Honeymust first have been known as a wild product, the bees buildingtheir structures in hollow trees or holes in the rocks, or anysimilar cavity that chance offered. Thus occasionally the carcassof a dead animal would be occupied by the bees for that purpose. It was no doubt from some such incident that the superstitionarose that the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh of theanimal; and Virgil, in the following story, shows how thissupposed fact may be turned to account for renewing the swarm whenit has been lost by disease or accident:

Aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees, was the son ofthe water-nymph Cyrene. His bees had perished, and he resorted foraid to his mother. He stood at the river side and thus addressedher: "O mother, the pride of my life is taken from me! I have lostmy precious bees. My care and skill have availed me nothing, andyou my mother have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune. "His mother heard these complaints as she sat in her palace at thebottom of the river, with her attendant nymphs around her. Theywere engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, whileone told stories to amuse the rest. The sad voice of Aristaeusinterrupting their occupation, one of them put her head above thewater and seeing him, returned and gave information to his mother, who ordered that he should be brought into her presence. The riverat her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stoodcurled like a mountain on either side. He descended to the regionwhere the fountains of the great rivers lie; he saw the enormousreceptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the roar, whilehe surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to water theface of the earth. Arriving at his mother's apartment, he washospitably received by Cyrene and her nymphs, who spread theirtable with the richest dainties. They first poured out libationsto Neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after thatCyrene thus addressed him: "There is an old prophet named Proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of Neptune, whose herd ofsea-calves he pastures. We nymphs hold him in great respect, forhe is a learned sage and knows all things, past, present, and tocome. He can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality amongyour bees, and how you may remedy it. But he will not do itvoluntarily, however you may entreat him. You must compel him byforce. If you seize him and chain him, he will answer yourquestions in order to get released, for he cannot by all his artsget away if you hold fast the chains. I will carry you to hiscave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. Then youmay easily secure him. But when he finds himself captured, hisresort is to a power he possesses of changing himself into variousforms. He will become a wild boar or a fierce tiger, a scalydragon or lion with yellow mane. Or he will make a noise like thecrackling of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you tolet go the chain, when he will make his escape. But you have onlyto keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his artsunavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey yourcommands. " So saying she sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and immediately an unusual vigor filledhis frame, and courage his heart, while perfume breathed allaround him. 

The nymph led her son to the prophet's cave and concealed himamong the recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her placebehind the clouds. When noon came and the hour when men and herdsretreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, Proteusissued from the water, followed by his herd of sea-calves whichspread themselves along the shore. He sat on the rock and countedhis herd; then stretched himself on the floor of the cave and wentto sleep. Aristaeus hardly allowed him to get fairly asleep beforehe fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. Proteus, waking andfinding himself captured, immediately resorted to his arts, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible wild beast, in rapid succession. But finding all would not do, he at lastresumed his own form and addressed the youth in angry accents:"Who are you, bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what doyot want of me?" Aristaeus replied, "Proteus, you know already, for it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive you. And doyou also cease your efforts to elude me. I am led hither by divineassistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune and how toremedy it. " At these words the prophet, fixing on him his grayeyes with a piercing look, thus spoke: "You receive the meritedreward of your deeds, by which Eurydice met her death, for inflying from you she trod upon a serpent, of whose bite she died. To avenge her death, the nymphs, her companions, have sent thisdestruction to your bees. You have to appease their anger, andthus it must be done: Select four bulls, of perfect form and size, and four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to the nymphs, and sacrifice the animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafygrove. To Orpheus and Eurydice you shall pay such funeral honorsas may allay their resentment. Returning after nine days, you willexamine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall. "Aristaeus faithfully obeyed these directions. He sacrificed thecattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he offered funeralhonors to the shades of Orpheus and Eurydice; then returning onthe ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate! a swarm of bees had taken possession of oneof the carcasses and were pursuing their labors there as in ahive. 

In "The Task, " Cowper alludes to the story of Aristaeus, whenspeaking of the ice-palace built by the Empress Anne of Russia. Hehas been describing the fantastic forms which ice assumes inconnection with waterfalls, etc. :

 "Less worthy of applause though more admired Because a novelty, the work of man, Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ, Thy most magnificent and mighty freak, The wonder of the north. No forest fell When thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores T' enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods And make thy marble of the glassy wave. In such a palace Aristaeus found Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale Of his lost bees to her maternal ear. "

Milton also appears to have had Cyrene and her domestic scene inhis mind when he describes to us Sabrina, the nymph of the riverSevern, in the Guardian-spirit's Song in "Comus":

 "Sabrina fair! Listen where thou art sitting Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; Listen for dear honor's sake, Goddess of the silver lake! Listen and save. "

The following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians, some of whom were hardly inferior to Orpheus himself:

AMPHION

Amphion was the son of Jupiter and Antiope, queen of Thebes. Withhis twin brother Zethus he was exposed at birth on MountCithaeron, where they grew up among the shepherds, not knowingtheir parentage. Mercury gave Amphion a lyre and taught him toplay upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting andtending the flocks. Meanwhile Antiope, their mother, who had beentreated with great cruelty by Lycus, the usurping king of Thebes, and by Dirce, his wife, found means to inform her children oftheir rights and to summon them to her assistance. With a band oftheir fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew Lycus, and tyingDirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him drag her till shewas dead. Amphion, having become king of Thebes, fortified thecity with a wall. It is said that when he played on his lyre thestones moved of their own accord and took their places in thewall. 

See Tennyson's poem of "Amphion" for an amusing use made of thisstory. 

LINUS

Linus was the instructor of Hercules in music, but having one dayreproved his pupil rather harshly, he roused the anger ofHercules, who struck him with his lyre and killed him. 

THAMYRIS

An ancient Thracian bard, who in his presumption challenged theMuses to a trial of skill, and being overcome in the contest, wasdeprived by them of his sight. Milton alludes to him with otherblind bards, when speaking of his own blindness, "Paradise Lost, "Book III. , 35. 

MARSYAS

Minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight ofall the celestial auditors; but the mischievous urchin Cupidhaving dared to laugh at the queer face which the goddess madewhile playing, Minerva threw the instrument indignantly away, andit fell down to earth, and was found by Marsyas. He blew upon it, and drew from it such ravishing sounds that he was tempted tochallenge Apollo himself to a musical contest. The god of coursetriumphed, and punished Marsyas by flaying him alive. 

MELAMPUS

Melampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers. Before his house there stood an oak tree containing a serpent'snest. The old serpents were killed by the servants, but Melampustook care of the young ones and fed them carefully. One day whenhe was asleep under the oak the serpents licked his ears withtheir tongues. On awaking he was astonished to find that he nowunderstood the language of birds and creeping things. Thisknowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became arenowned soothsayer. At one time his enemies took him captive andkept him strictly imprisoned. Melampus in the silence of the nightheard the woodworms in the timbers talking together, and found outby what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten through andthe roof would soon fall in. He told his captors and demanded tobe let out, warning them also. They took his warning, and thusescaped destruction, and rewarded Melampus and held him in highhonor. 

MUSAEUS A semi-mythological personage who was represented by onetradition to be the son of Orpheus. He is said to have writtensacred poems and oracles. Milton couples his name with that ofOrpheus in his "Il Penseroso":

 "But O, sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what love did seek. "

CHAPTER XXV

ARION--IBYCUS--SIMONIDES--SAPPHO

The poets whose adventures compose this chapter were real personssome of whose works yet remain, and their influence on poets whosucceeded them is yet more important than their poetical remains. The adventures recorded of them in the following stories rest onthe same authority as other narratives of the "Age of Fable, " thatis, of the poets who have told them. In their present form, thefirst two are translated from the German, Arion from Schlegel, andIbycus from Schiller. 

ARION

Arion was a famous musician, and dwelt in the court of Periander, king of Corinth, with whom he was a great favorite. There was tobe a musical contest in Sicily, and Arion longed to compete forthe prize. He told his wish to Periander, who besought him like abrother to give up the thought. "Pray stay with me, " he said, "andbe contented. He who strives to win may lose. " Arion answered, "Awandering life best suits the free heart of a poet. The talentwhich a god bestowed on me, I would fain make a source of pleasureto others. And if I win the prize, how will the enjoyment of it beincreased by the consciousness of my widespread fame!" He went, won the prize, and embarked with his wealth in a Corinthian shipfor home. On the second morning after setting sail, the windbreathed mild and fair. "O Periander, " he exclaimed, "dismiss yourfears! Soon shall you forget them in my embrace. With what lavishofferings will we display our gratitude to the gods, and how merrywill we be at the festal board!" The wind and sea continuedpropitious. Not a cloud dimmed the firmament. He had not trustedtoo much to the ocean--but he had to man. He overheard the seamenexchanging hints with one another, and found they were plotting topossess themselves of his treasure. Presently they surrounded himloud and mutinous, and said, "Arion, you must die! If you wouldhave a grave on shore, yield yourself to die on this spot; but ifotherwise, cast yourself into the sea. " "Will nothing satisfy youbut my life?" said he. "Take my gold, and welcome. I willingly buymy life at that price. " "No, no; we cannot spare you. Your lifewould be too dangerous to us. Where could we go to escape fromPeriander, if he should know that you had been robbed by us? Yourgold would be of little use to us, if on returning home, we couldnever more be free from fear. " "Grant me, then, " said he, "a lastrequest, since nought will avail to save my life, that I may die, as I have lived, as becomes a bard. When I shall have sung mydeath song, and my harp-strings shall have ceased to vibrate, thenI will bid farewell to life, and yield uncomplaining to my fate. "This prayer, like the others, would have been unheeded, --theythought only of their booty, --but to hear so famous a musician, that moved their rude hearts. "Suffer me, " he added, "to arrangemy dress. Apollo will not favor me unless I be clad in my minstrelgarb. "

He clothed his well-proportioned limbs in gold and purple fair tosee, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adornedhis arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over hisneck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors. His lefthand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struckits chords. Like one inspired, he seemed to drink the morning airand glitter in the morning ray. The seamen gazed with admiration. He strode forward to the vessel's side and looked down into thedeep blue sea. Addressing his lyre, he sang, "Companion of myvoice, come with me to the realm of shades. Though Cerberus maygrowl, we know the power of song can tame his rage. Ye heroes ofElysium, who have passed the darkling flood, --ye happy souls, soonshall I join your band. Yet can ye relieve my grief? Alas, I leavemy friend behind me. Thou, who didst find thy Eurydice, and loseher again as soon as found; when she had vanished like a dream, how didst thou hate the cheerful light! I must away, but I willnot fear. The gods look down upon us. Ye who slay me unoffending, when I am no more, your time of trembling shall come. Ye Nereids, receive your guest, who throws himself upon your mercy!" Sosaying, he sprang into the deep sea. The waves covered him, andthe seamen held on their way, fancying themselves safe from alldanger of detection. 

But the strains of his music had drawn round him the inhabitantsof the deep to listen, and Dolphins followed the ship as ifchained by a spell. While he struggled in the waves, a Dolphinoffered him his back, and carried him mounted thereon safe toshore. At the spot where he landed, a monument of brass wasafterwards erected upon the rocky shore, to preserve the memory ofthe event. 

When Arion and the dolphin parted, each to his own element, Arionthus poured forth his thanks: "Farewell, thou faithful, friendlyfish! Would that I could reward thee; but thou canst not wend withme, nor I with thee. Companionship we may not have. May Galatea, queen of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou, proud of theburden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of the deep. "

Arion hastened from the shore, and soon saw before him the towersof Corinth. He journeyed on, harp in hand, singing as he went, full of love and happiness, forgetting his losses, and mindfulonly of what remained, his friend and his lyre. He entered thehospitable halls, and was soon clasped in the embrace ofPeriander. "I come back to thee, my friend, " he said. "The talentwhich a god bestowed has been the delight of thousands, but falseknaves have stripped me of my well-earned treasure; yet I retainthe consciousness of wide spread fame. " Then he told Periander allthe wonderful events that had befallen him, who heard him withamazement. "Shall such wickedness triumph?" said he. "Then in vainis power lodged in my hands. That we may discover the criminals, you must remain here in concealment, and so they will approachwithout suspicion. " When the ship arrived in the harbor, hesummoned the mariners before him. "Have you heard anything ofArion?" he inquired. "I anxiously look for his return. " Theyreplied, "We left him well and prosperous in Tarentum. " As theysaid these words, Arion stepped forth and faced them. His well-proportioned limbs were arrayed in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned hisarms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neckand shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors; his left handheld the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck itschords. They fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning bolthad struck them. "We meant to murder him, and he has become a god. O Earth, open and receive us!" Then Periander spoke. "He lives, the master of the lay! Kind Heaven protects the poet's life. Asfor you, I invoke not the spirit of vengeance; Arion wishes notyour blood. Ye slaves of avarice, begone! Seek some barbarousland, and never may aught beautiful delight your souls!"

Spenser represents Arion, mounted on his dolphin, accompanying thetrain of Neptune and Amphitrite:

 "Then was there heard a most celestial sound Of dainty music which did next ensue, And, on the floating waters as enthroned, Arion with his harp unto him drew The ears and hearts of all that goodly crew; Even when as yet the dolphin which him bore Through the Aegean Seas from pirates' view, Stood still, by him astonished at his lore, And all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar. "

Byron, in his "Childe Harold, " Canto II. , alludes to the story ofArion, when, describing his voyage, he represents one of theseamen making music to entertain the rest:

 "The moon is up; by Heaven a lovely eve! Long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand; Now lads on shore may sigh and maids believe; Such be our fate when we return to land! Meantime some rude Arion's restless hand Wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love; A circle there of merry listeners stand, Or to some well-known measure featly move Thoughtless as if on shore they still were free to rove. "

IBYCUS

In order to understand the story of Ibycus which follows it isnecessary to remember, first, that the theatres of the ancientswere immense fabrics capable of containing from ten to thirtythousand spectators, and as they were used only on festivaloccasions, and admission was free to all, they were usuallyfilled. They were without roofs and open to the sky, and theperformances were in the daytime. Secondly, the appallingrepresentation of the Furies is not exaggerated in the story. Itis recorded that Aeschylus, the tragic poet, having on oneoccasion represented the Furies in a chorus of fifty performers, the terror of the spectators was such that many fainted and werethrown into convulsions, and the magistrates forbade a likerepresentation for the future. 

Ibycus, the pious poet, was on his way to the chariot races andmusical competitions held at the Isthmus of Corinth, whichattracted all of Grecian lineage. Apollo had bestowed on him thegift of song, the honeyed lips of the poet, and he pursued his waywith lightsome step, full of the god. Already the towers ofCorinth crowning the height appeared in view, and he had enteredwith pious awe the sacred grove of Neptune. No living object wasin sight, only a flock of cranes flew overhead taking the samecourse as himself in their migration to a southern clime. "Goodluck to you, ye friendly squadrons, " he exclaimed, "my companionsfrom across the sea. I take your company for a good omen. We comefrom far and fly in search of hospitality. May both of us meetthat kind reception which shields the stranger guest from harm!"

He paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of the wood. Theresuddenly, at a narrow pass, two robbers stepped forth and barredhis way. He must yield or fight. But his hand, accustomed to thelyre, and not to the strife of arms, sank powerless. He called forhelp on men and gods, but his cry reached no defender's ear. "Thenhere must I die, " said he, "in a strange land, unlamented, cut offby the hand of outlaws, and see none to avenge my cause. " Sorewounded, he sank to the earth, when hoarse screamed the cranesoverhead. "Take up my cause, ye cranes, " he said, "since no voicebut yours answers to my cry. " So saying he closed his eyes indeath. 

The body, despoiled and mangled, was found, and though disfiguredwith wounds, was recognized by the friend in Corinth who hadexpected him as a guest. "Is it thus I find you restored to me?"he exclaimed. "I who hoped to entwine your temples with the wreathof triumph in the strife of song!"

The guests assembled at the festival heard the tidings withdismay. All Greece felt the wound, every heart owned its loss. They crowded round the tribunal of the magistrates, and demandedvengeance on the murderers and expiation with their blood. 

But what trace or mark shall point out the perpetrator from amidstthe vast multitude attracted by the splendor of the feast? Did hefall by the hands of robbers or did some private enemy slay him?The all-discerning sun alone can tell, for no other eye beheldit. Yet not improbably the murderer even now walks in the midst ofthe throng, and enjoys the fruits of his crime, while vengeanceseeks for him in vain. Perhaps in their own temple's enclosure hedefies the gods mingling freely in this throng of men that nowpresses into the amphitheatre. 

For now crowded together, row on row, the multitude fill the seatstill it seems as if the very fabric would give way. The murmur ofvoices sounds like the roar of the sea, while the circles wideningin their ascent rise tier on tier, as if they would reach the sky. 

And now the vast assemblage listens to the awful voice of thechorus personating the Furies, which in solemn guise advances withmeasured step, and moves around the circuit of the theatre. Canthey be mortal women who compose that awful group, and can thatvast concourse of silent forms be living beings?

The choristers, clad in black, bore in their fleshless handstorches blazing with a pitchy flame. Their cheeks were bloodless, and in place of hair writhing and swelling serpents curled aroundtheir brows. Forming a circle, these awful beings sang theirhymns, rending the hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all theirfaculties. It rose and swelled, overpowering the sound of theinstruments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart, curdlingthe blood. 

"Happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt and crime! Himwe avengers touch not; he treads the path of life secure from us. But woe! woe! to him who has done the deed of secret murder. Wethe fearful family of Night fasten ourselves upon his whole being. Thinks he by flight to escape us? We fly still faster in pursuit, twine our snakes around his feet, and bring him to the ground. Unwearied we pursue; no pity checks our course; still on and on, to the end of life, we give him no peace nor rest. " Thus theEumenides sang, and moved in solemn cadence, while stillness likethe stillness of death sat over the whole assembly as if in thepresence of superhuman beings; and then in solemn march completingthe circuit of the theatre, they passed out at the back of thestage. 

Every heart fluttered between illusion and reality, and everybreast panted with undefined terror, quailing before the awfulpower that watches secret crimes and winds unseen the skein ofdestiny. At that moment a cry burst forth from one of theuppermost benches--"Look! look! comrade, yonder are the cranes ofIbycus!" And suddenly there appeared sailing across the sky a darkobject which a moment's inspection showed to be a flock of cranesflying directly over the theatre. "Of Ibycus! did he say?" Thebeloved name revived the sorrow in every breast. As wave followswave over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth to mouth thewords, "Of Ibycus! him whom we all lament, whom some murderer'shand laid low! What have the cranes to do with him?" And loudergrew the swell of voices, while like a lightning's flash thethought sped through every heart, "Observe the power of theEumenides! The pious poet shall be avenged! the murderer hasinformed against himself. Seize the man who uttered that cry andthe other to whom he spoke!"

The culprit would gladly have recalled his words, but it was toolate. The faces of the murderers, pale with terror, betrayed theirguilt. The people took them before the judge, they confessed theircrime, and suffered the punishment they deserved. 

SIMONIDES

Simonides was one of the most prolific of the early poets ofGreece, but only a few fragments of his compositions havedescended to us. He wrote hymns, triumphal odes, and elegies. Inthe last species of composition he particularly excelled. Hisgenius was inclined to the pathetic, and none could touch withtruer effect the chords of human sympathy. The "Lamentation ofDanae, " the most important of the fragments which remain of hispoetry, is based upon the tradition that Danae and her infant sonwere confined by order of her father, Acrisius, in a chest and setadrift on the sea. The chest floated towards the island ofSeriphus, where both were rescued by Dictys, a fisherman, andcarried to Polydectes, king of the country, who received andprotected them. The child, Perseus, when grown up became a famoushero, whose adventures have been recorded in a previous chapter. 

Simonides passed much of his life at the courts of princes, andoften employed his talents in panegyric and festal odes, receivinghis reward from the munificence of those whose exploits hecelebrated. This employment was not derogatory, but closelyresembles that of the earliest bards, such as Demodocus, describedby Homer, or of Homer himself, as recorded by tradition. 

On one occasion, when residing at the court of Scopas, king ofThessaly, the prince desired him to prepare a poem in celebrationof his exploits, to be recited at a banquet. In order to diversifyhis theme, Simonides, who was celebrated for his piety, introducedinto his poem the exploits of Castor and Pollux. Such digressionswere not unusual with the poets on similar occasions, and onemight suppose an ordinary mortal might have been content to sharethe praises of the sons of Leda. But vanity is exacting; and asScopas sat at his festal board among his courtiers and sycophants, he grudged every verse that did not rehearse his own praises. WhenSimonides approached to receive the promised reward Scopasbestowed but half the expected sum, saying, "Here is payment formy portion of thy performance; Castor and Pollux will doubtlesscompensate thee for so much as relates to them. " The disconcertedpoet returned to his seat amidst the laughter which followed thegreat man's jest. In a little time he received a message that twoyoung men on horseback were waiting without and anxious to seehim. Simonides hastened to the door, but looked in vain for thevisitors. Scarcely, however, had he left the banqueting hall whenthe roof fell in with a loud crash, burying Scopas and all hisguests beneath the ruins. On inquiring as to the appearance of theyoung men who had sent for him, Simonides was satisfied that theywere no other than Castor and Pollux themselves. 

SAPPHO

Sappho was a poetess who flourished in a very early age of Greekliterature. Of her works few fragments remain, but they are enoughto establish her claim to eminent poetical genius. The story ofSappho commonly alluded to is that she was passionately in lovewith a beautiful youth named Phaon, and failing to obtain a returnof affection she threw herself from the promontory of Leucadiainto the sea, under a superstition that those who should take that"Lover's-leap" would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love. 

Byron alludes to the story of Sappho in "Childe Harold, " CantoII. :

 "Childe Harold sailed and passed the barren spot Where sad Penelope o'erlooked the wave, And onward viewed the mount, not yet forgot, The lover's refuge and the Lesbian's grave. Dark Sappho! could not verse immortal save That breast imbued with such immortal fire?

 "'Twas on a Grecian autumn's gentle eve Childe Harold hailed Leucadia's cape afar;" etc. 

Those who wish to know more of Sappho and her "leap" are referredto the "Spectator, " Nos. 223 and 229. See also Moore's "Eveningsin Greece. "

CHAPTER XXVI

ENDYMION--ORION--AURORA AND TITHONUS--ACIS AND GALATEA

DIANA AND ENDYMION

Endymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock on Mount Latmos. One calm, clear night Diana, the moon, looked down and saw himsleeping. The cold heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by hissurpassing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him, andwatched over him while he slept. 

Another story was that Jupiter bestowed on him the gift ofperpetual youth united with perpetual sleep. Of one so gifted wecan have but few adventures to record. Diana, it was said, tookcare that his fortunes should not suffer by his inactive life, forshe made his flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs fromthe wild beasts. 

The story of Endymion has a peculiar charm from the human meaningwhich it so thinly veils. We see in Endymion the young poet, hisfancy and his heart seeking in vain for that which can satisfythem, finding his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, andnursing there beneath the beams of the bright and silent witnessthe melancholy and the ardor which consumes him. The storysuggests aspiring and poetic love, a life spent more in dreamsthan in reality, and an early and welcome death. --S. G. B. 

The "Endymion" of Keats is a wild and fanciful poem, containingsome exquisite poetry, as this, to the moon:

 "... The sleeping kine Couched in thy brightness dream of fields divine. Innumerable mountains rise, and rise, Ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes, And yet thy benediction passeth not One obscure hiding-place, one little spot Where pleasure may be sent; the nested wren Has thy fair face within its tranquil ken;" etc. , etc. 

Dr. Young, in the "Night Thoughts, " alludes to Endymion thus:

 "... These thoughts, O night, are thine; From thee they came like lovers' secret sighs, While others slept. So Cynthia, poets feign, In shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere, Her shepherd cheered, of her enamoured less Than I of thee. "

Fletcher, in the "Faithful Shepherdess, " tells:

 "How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove, First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes She took eternal fire that never dies; How she conveyed him softly in a sleep, His temples bound with poppy, to the steep Head of old Latmos, where she stoops each night, Gilding the mountain with her brother's light, To kiss her sweetest. "

ORION

Orion was the son of Neptune. He was a handsome giant and a mightyhunter. His father gave him the power of wading through the depthsof the sea, or, as others say, of walking on its surface. 

Orion loved Merope, the daughter of Oenopion, king of Chios, andsought her in marriage. He cleared the island of wild beasts, andbrought the spoils of the chase as presents to his beloved; but asOenopion constantly deferred his consent, Orion attempted to gainpossession of the maiden by violence. Her father, incensed at thisconduct, having made Orion drunk, deprived him of his sight andcast him out on the seashore. The blinded hero followed the soundof a Cyclops' hammer till he reached Lemnos, and came to the forgeof Vulcan, who, taking pity on him, gave him Kedalion, one of hismen, to be his guide to the abode of the sun. Placing Kedalion onhis shoulders, Orion proceeded to the east, and there meeting thesun-god, was restored to sight by his beam. 

After this he dwelt as a hunter with Diana, with whom he was afavorite, and it is even said she was about to marry him. Herbrother was highly displeased and often chid her, but to nopurpose. One day, observing Orion wading through the sea with hishead just above the water, Apollo pointed it out to his sister andmaintained that she could not hit that black thing on the sea. Thearcher-goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim. The waves rolledthe dead body of Orion to the land, and bewailing her fatal errorwith many tears, Diana placed him among the stars, where heappears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and club. Sirius, his dog, follows him, and the Pleiads fly before him. 

The Pleiads were daughters of Atlas, and nymphs of Diana's train. One day Orion saw them and became enamoured and pursued them. Intheir distress they prayed to the gods to change their form, andJupiter in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them aconstellation in the sky. Though their number was seven, only sixstars are visible, for Electra, one of them, it is said left herplace that she might not behold the ruin of Troy, for that citywas founded by her son Dardanus. The sight had such an effect onher sisters that they have looked pale ever since. 

Mr. Longfellow has a poem on the "Occultation of Orion. " Thefollowing lines are those in which he alludes to the mythic story. We must premise that on the celestial globe Orion is representedas robed in a lion's skin and wielding a club. At the moment thestars of the constellation, one by one, were quenched in the lightof the moon, the poet tells us

 "Down fell the red skin of the lion Into the river at his feet. His mighty club no longer beat The forehead of the bull; but he Reeled as of yore beside the sea, When blinded by Oenopion He sought the blacksmith at his forge, And climbing up the narrow gorge, Fixed his blank eyes upon the sun. "

Tennyson has a different theory of the Pleiads:

 "Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising through the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid. "

 --Locksley Hall. 

Byron alludes to the lost Pleiad:

"Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below. "

See also Mrs. Hemans's verses on the same subject. 

AURORA AND TITHONUS

The goddess of the Dawn, like her sister the Moon, was at timesinspired with the love of mortals. Her greatest favorite wasTithonus, son of Laomedon, king of Troy. She stole him away, andprevailed on Jupiter to grant him immortality; but, forgetting tohave youth joined in the gift, after some time she began todiscern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old. Whenhis hair was quite white she left his society; but he still hadthe range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was clad incelestial raiment. At length he lost the power of using his limbs, and then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voicemight at times be heard. Finally she turned him into agrasshopper. 

Memnon was the son of Aurora and Tithonus. He was king of theAethiopians, and dwelt in the extreme east, on the shore of Ocean. He came with his warriors to assist the kindred of his father inthe war of Troy. King Priam received him with great honors, andlistened with admiration to his narrative of the wonders of theocean shore. 

The very day after his arrival, Memnon, impatient of repose, ledhis troops to the field. Antilochus, the brave son of Nestor, fellby his hand, and the Greeks were put to flight, when Achillesappeared and restored the battle. A long and doubtful contestensued between him and the son of Aurora; at length victorydeclared for Achilles, Memnon fell, and the Trojans fled indismay. 

Aurora, who from her station in the sky had viewed withapprehension the danger of her son, when she saw him fall, directed his brothers, the Winds, to convey his body to the banksof the river Esepus in Paphlagonia. In the evening Aurora came, accompanied by the Hours and the Pleiads, and wept and lamentedover her son. Night, in sympathy with her grief, spread the heavenwith clouds; all nature mourned for the offspring of the Dawn. TheAethiopians raised his tomb on the banks of the stream in thegrove of the Nymphs, and Jupiter caused the sparks and cinders ofhis funeral pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing into twoflocks, fought over the pile till they fell into the flame. Everyyear at the anniversary of his death they return and celebrate hisobsequies in like manner. Aurora remains inconsolable for the lossof her son. Her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morningin the form of dew-drops on the grass. 

Unlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, there still existsome memorials of this. On the banks of the river Nile, in Egypt, are two colossal statues, one of which is said to be the statue ofMemnon. Ancient writers record that when the first rays of therising sun fall upon this statue a sound is heard to issue fromit, which they compare to the snapping of a harp-string. There issome doubt about the identification of the existing statue withthe one described by the ancients, and the mysterious sounds arestill more doubtful. Yet there are not wanting some moderntestimonies to their being still audible. It has been suggestedthat sounds produced by confined air making its escape fromcrevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some ground forthe story. Sir Gardner Wilkinson, a late traveller, of the highestauthority, examined the statue itself, and discovered that it washollow, and that "in the lap of the statue is a stone, which onbeing struck emits a metallic sound, that might still be made useof to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe itspowers. "

The vocal statue of Memnon is a favorite subject of allusion withthe poets. Darwin, in his "Botanic Garden, " says:

 "So to the sacred Sun in Memnon's fane Spontaneous concords choired the matin strain; Touched by his orient beam responsive rings The living lyre and vibrates all its strings; Accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, And holy echoes swell the adoring song. "

Book I. , 1. , 182. 

ACIS AND GALATEA

Scylla was a fair virgin of Sicily, a favorite of the Sea-Nymphs. She had many suitors, but repelled them all, and would go to thegrotto of Galatea, and tell her how she was persecuted. One daythe goddess, while Scylla dressed her hair, listened to the story, and then replied, "Yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the notungentle race of men, whom, if you will, you can repel; but I, thedaughter of Nereus, and protected by such a band of sisters, foundno escape from the passion of the Cyclops but in the depths of thesea;" and tears stopped her utterance, which when the pityingmaiden had wiped away with her delicate finger, and soothed thegoddess, "Tell me, dearest, " said she, "the cause of your grief. "Galatea then said, "Acis was the son of Faunus and a Naiad. Hisfather and mother loved him dearly, but their love was not equalto mine. For the beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, andhe was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to darkenhis cheeks. As much as I sought his society, so much did theCyclops seek mine; and if you ask me whether my love for Acis ormy hatred of Polyphemus was the stronger, I cannot tell you; theywere in equal measure. O Venus, how great is thy power! thisfierce giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless strangerescaped unharmed, who defied even Jove himself, learned to feelwhat love was, and, touched with a passion for me, forgot hisflocks and his well-stored caverns. Then for the first time hebegan to take some care of his appearance, and to try to makehimself agreeable; he harrowed those coarse locks of his with acomb, and mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harshfeatures in the water, and composed his countenance. His love ofslaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood prevailed no more, and ships that touched at his island went away in safety. He pacedup and down the sea-shore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavytread, and, when weary, lay tranquilly in his cave. 

"There is a cliff which projects into the sea, which washes it oneither side. Thither one day the huge Cyclops ascended, and satdown while his flocks spread themselves around. Laying down hisstaff, which would have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail, and taking his instrument compacted of numerous pipes, he made thehills and the waters echo the music of his song. I lay hid under arock by the side of my beloved Acis, and listened to the distantstrain. It was full of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingledwith passionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty. 

"When he had finished he rose up, and, like a raging bull thatcannot stand still, wandered off into the woods. Acis and Ithought no more of him, till on a sudden he came to a spot whichgave him a view of us as we sat. 'I see you, ' he exclaimed, 'and Iwill make this the last of your love-meetings. ' His voice was aroar such as an angry Cyclops alone could utter. Aetna trembled atthe sound. I, overcome with terror, plunged into the water. Acisturned and fled, crying, 'Save me, Galatea, save me, my parents!'The Cyclops pursued him, and tearing a rock from the side of themountain hurled it at him. Though only a corner of it touched him, it overwhelmed him. 

"All that fate left in my power I did for Acis. I endowed him withthe honors of his grandfather, the river-god. The purple bloodflowed out from under the rock, but by degrees grew paler andlooked like the stream of a river rendered turbid by rains, and intime it became clear. The rock cleaved open, and the water, as itgushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing murmur. "

Thus Acis was changed into a river, and the river retains the nameof Acis. 

Dryden, in his "Cymon and Iphigenia, " has told the story of aclown converted into a gentleman by the power of love, in a waythat shows traces of kindred to the old story of Galatea and theCyclops. 

 "What not his father's care nor tutor's art Could plant with pains in his unpolished heart, The best instructor, Love, at once inspired, As barren grounds to fruitfulness are fired. Love taught him shame, and shame with love at strife Soon taught the sweet civilities of life. "

CHAPTER XXVII

THE TROJAN WAR

Minerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one occasion she did avery foolish thing; she entered into competition with Juno andVenus for the prize of beauty. It happened thus: At the nuptialsof Peleus and Thetis all the gods were invited with the exceptionof Eris, or Discord. Enraged at her exclusion, the goddess threw agolden apple among the guests, with the inscription, "For thefairest. " Thereupon Juno, Venus, and Minerva each claimed theapple. Jupiter, not willing to decide in so delicate a matter, sent the goddesses to Mount Ida, where the beautiful shepherdParis was tending his flocks, and to him was committed thedecision. The goddesses accordingly appeared before him. Junopromised him power and riches, Minerva glory and renown in war, and Venus the fairest of women for his wife, each attempting tobias his decision in her own favor. Paris decided in favor ofVenus and gave her the golden apple, thus making the two othergoddesses his enemies. Under the protection of Venus, Paris sailedto Greece, and was hospitably received by Menelaus, king ofSparta. Now Helen, the wife of Menelaus, was the very woman whomVenus had destined for Paris, the fairest of her sex. She had beensought as a bride by numerous suitors, and before her decision wasmade known, they all, at the suggestion of Ulysses, one of theirnumber, took an oath that they would defend her from all injuryand avenge her cause if necessary. She chose Menelaus, and wasliving with him happily when Paris became their guest. Paris, aided by Venus, persuaded her to elope with him, and carried herto Troy, whence arose the famous Trojan war, the theme of thegreatest poems of antiquity, those of Homer and Virgil. 

Menelaus called upon his brother chieftains of Greece to fulfiltheir pledge, and join him in his efforts to recover his wife. They generally came forward, but Ulysses, who had marriedPenelope, and was very happy in his wife and child, had nodisposition to embark in such a troublesome affair. He thereforehung back and Palamedes was sent to urge him. When Palamedesarrived at Ithaca Ulysses pretended to be mad. He yoked an ass andan ox together to the plough and began to sow salt. Palamedes, totry him, placed the infant Telemachus before the plough, whereuponthe father turned the plough aside, showing plainly that he was nomadman, and after that could no longer refuse to fulfil hispromise. Being now himself gained for the undertaking, he lent hisaid to bring in other reluctant chiefs, especially Achilles. Thishero was the son of that Thetis at whose marriage the apple ofDiscord had been thrown among the goddesses. Thetis was herselfone of the immortals, a sea-nymph, and knowing that her son wasfated to perish before Troy if he went on the expedition, sheendeavored to prevent his going. She sent him away to the court ofKing Lycomedes, and induced him to conceal himself in the disguiseof a maiden among the daughters of the king. Ulysses, hearing hewas there, went disguised as a merchant to the palace and offeredfor sale female ornaments, among which he had placed some arms. While the king's daughters were engrossed with the other contentsof the merchant's pack, Achilles handled the weapons and therebybetrayed himself to the keen eye of Ulysses, who found no greatdifficulty in persuading him to disregard his mother's prudentcounsels and join his countrymen in the war. 

Priam was king of Troy, and Paris, the shepherd and seducer ofHelen, was his son. Paris had been brought up in obscurity, because there were certain ominous forebodings connected with himfrom his infancy that he would be the ruin of the state. Theseforebodings seemed at length likely to be realized, for theGrecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had everbeen fitted out. Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, and brother of theinjured Menelaus, was chosen commander-in-chief. Achilles wastheir most illustrious warrior. After him ranked Ajax, gigantic insize and of great courage, but dull of intellect; Diomede, secondonly to Achilles in all the qualities of a hero; Ulysses, famousfor his sagacity; and Nestor, the oldest of the Grecian chiefs, and one to whom they all looked up for counsel. But Troy was nofeeble enemy. Priam, the king, was now old, but he had been a wiseprince and had strengthened his state by good government at homeand numerous alliances with his neighbors. But the principal stayand support of his throne was his son Hector, one of the noblestcharacters painted by heathen antiquity. He felt, from the first, a presentiment of the fall of his country, but still persevered inhis heroic resistance, yet by no means justified the wrong whichbrought this danger upon her. He was united in marriage withAndromache, and as a husband and father his character was not lessadmirable than as a warrior. The principal leaders on the side ofthe Trojans, besides Hector, were Aeneas and Deiphobus, Glaucusand Sarpedon. 

After two years of preparation the Greek fleet and army assembledin the port of Aulis in Boeotia. Here Agamemnon in hunting killeda stag which was sacred to Diana, and the goddess in returnvisited the army with pestilence, and produced a calm whichprevented the ships from leaving the port. Calchas, thesoothsayer, thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgingoddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin on heraltar, and that none other but the daughter of the offender wouldbe acceptable. Agamemnon, however reluctant, yielded his consent, and the maiden Iphigenia was sent for under the pretence that shewas to be married to Achilles. When she was about to be sacrificedthe goddess relented and snatched her away, leaving a hind in herplace, and Iphigenia, enveloped in a cloud, was carried to Tauris, where Diana made her priestess of her temple. 

Tennyson, in his "Dream of Fair Women, " makes Iphigenia thusdescribe her feelings at the moment of sacrifice:

 "I was cut off from hope in that sad place, Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears; My father held his hand upon his face; I, blinded by my tears, "Still strove to speak; my voice was thick with sighs, As in a dream. Dimly I could descry The stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes, Waiting to see me die. 

 "The tall masts quivered as they lay afloat, The temples and the people and the shore; One drew a sharp knife through my tender throat Slowly, --and--nothing more. "

The wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and brought theforces to the coast of Troy. The Trojans came to oppose theirlanding, and at the first onset Protesilaus fell by the hand ofHector. Protesilaus had left at home his wife, Laodamia, who wasmost tenderly attached to him. When the news of his death reachedher she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with him onlythree hours. The request was granted. Mercury led Protesilaus backto the upper world, and when he died a second time Laodamia diedwith him. There was a story that the nymphs planted elm treesround his grave which grew very well till they were high enough tocommand a view of Troy, and then withered away, while freshbranches sprang from the roots. 

Wordsworth has taken the story of Protesilaus and Laodamia for thesubject of a poem. It seems the oracle had declared that victoryshould be the lot of that party from which should fall the firstvictim to the war. The poet represents Protesilaus, on his briefreturn to earth, as relating to Laodamia the story of his fate:

 "'The wished-for wind was given; I then revolved The oracle, upon the silent sea; And if no worthier led the way, resolved That of a thousand vessels mine should be The foremost prow impressing to the strand, -- Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand. 

 "'Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang When of thy loss I thought, beloved wife! On thee too fondly did my memory hang, And on the joys we shared in mortal life, The paths which we had trod, --these fountains, flowers; My new planned cities and unfinished towers. 

 "'But should suspense permit the foe to cry, "Behold they tremble! haughty their array, Yet of their number no one dares to die?" In soul I swept the indignity away: Old frailties then recurred: but lofty thought In act embodied my deliverance wrought. '

 "... Upon the side Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) A knot of spiry trees for ages grew From out the tomb of him for whom she died; And ever when such stature they had gained That Ilium's walls were subject to their view, The trees' tall summits withered at the sight, A constant interchange of growth and blight!"

"THE ILIAD"

The war continued without decisive results for nine years. Then anevent occurred which seemed likely to be fatal to the cause of theGreeks, and that was a quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon. Itis at this point that the great poem of Homer, "The Iliad, "begins. The Greeks, though unsuccessful against Troy, had takenthe neighboring and allied cities, and in the division of thespoil a female captive, by name Chryseis, daughter of Chryses, priest of Apollo, had fallen to the share of Agamemnon. Chrysescame bearing the sacred emblems of his office, and begged therelease of his daughter. Agamemnon refused. Thereupon Chrysesimplored Apollo to afflict the Greeks till they should be forcedto yield their prey. Apollo granted the prayer of his priest, andsent pestilence into the Grecian camp. Then a council was calledto deliberate how to allay the wrath of the gods and avert theplague. Achilles boldly charged their misfortunes upon Agamemnonas caused by his withholding Chryseis. Agamemnon, enraged, consented to relinquish his captive, but demanded that Achillesshould yield to him in her stead Briseis, a maiden who had fallento Achilles' share in the division of the spoil. Achillessubmitted, but forthwith declared that he would take no furtherpart in the war. He withdrew his forces from the general camp andopenly avowed his intention of returning home to Greece. 

The gods and goddesses interested themselves as much in thisfamous war as the parties themselves. It was well known to themthat fate had decreed that Troy should fall, at last, if herenemies should persevere and not voluntarily abandon theenterprise. Yet there was room enough left for chance to excite byturns the hopes and fears of the powers above who took part witheither side. Juno and Minerva, in consequence of the slight putupon their charms by Paris, were hostile to the Trojans; Venus forthe opposite cause favored them. Venus enlisted her admirer Marson the same side, but Neptune favored the Greeks. Apollo wasneutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the other, and Jovehimself, though he loved the good King Priam, yet exercised adegree of impartiality; not, however, without exceptions. 

Thetis, the mother of Achilles, warmly resented the injury done toher son. She repaired immediately to Jove's palace and besoughthim to make the Greeks repent of their injustice to Achilles bygranting success to the Trojan arms. Jupiter consented, and in thebattle which ensued the Trojans were completely successful. TheGreeks were driven from the field and took refuge in their ships. 

Then Agamemnon called a council of his wisest and bravest chiefs. Nestor advised that an embassy should be sent to Achilles topersuade him to return to the field; that Agamemnon should yieldthe maiden, the cause of the dispute, with ample gifts to atonefor the wrong he had done. Agamemnon consented, and Ulysses, Ajax, and Phoenix were sent to carry to Achilles the penitent message. They performed that duty, but Achilles was deaf to theirentreaties. He positively refused to return to the field, andpersisted in his resolution to embark for Greece without delay. 

The Greeks had constructed a rampart around their ships, and nowinstead of besieging Troy they were in a manner besiegedthemselves, within their rampart. The next day after theunsuccessful embassy to Achilles, a battle was fought, and theTrojans, favored by Jove, were successful, and succeeded inforcing a passage through the Grecian rampart, and were about toset fire to the ships. Neptune, seeing the Greeks so pressed, cameto their rescue. He appeared in the form of Calchas the prophet, encouraged the warriors with his shouts, and appealed to eachindividually till he raised their ardor to such a pitch that theyforced the Trojans to give way. Ajax performed prodigies of valor, and at length encountered Hector. Ajax shouted defiance, to whichHector replied, and hurled his lance at the huge warrior. It waswell aimed and struck Ajax, where the belts that bore his swordand shield crossed each other on the breast. The double guardprevented its penetrating and it fell harmless. Then Ajax, seizinga huge stone, one of those that served to prop the ships, hurledit at Hector. It struck him in the neck and stretched him on theplain. His followers instantly seized him and bore him off, stunned and wounded. 

While Neptune was thus aiding the Greeks and driving back theTrojans, Jupiter saw nothing of what was going on, for hisattention had been drawn from the field by the wiles of Juno. Thatgoddess had arrayed herself in all her charms, and to crown allhad borrowed of Venus her girdle, called "Cestus, " which had theeffect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a degree that theywere quite irresistible. So prepared, Juno went to join herhusband, who sat on Olympus watching the battle. When he beheldher she looked so charming that the fondness of his early loverevived, and, forgetting the contending armies and all otheraffairs of state, he thought only of her and let the battle go asit would. 

But this absorption did not continue long, and when, upon turninghis eyes downward, he beheld Hector stretched on the plain almostlifeless from pain and bruises, he dismissed Juno in a rage, commanding her to send Iris and Apollo to him. When Iris came hesent her with a stern message to Neptune, ordering him instantlyto quit the field. Apollo was despatched to heal Hector's bruisesand to inspirit his heart. These orders were obeyed with suchspeed that, while the battle still raged, Hector returned to thefield and Neptune betook himself to his own dominions. 

An arrow from Paris's bow wounded Machaon, son of Aesculapius, whoinherited his father's art of healing, and was therefore of greatvalue to the Greeks as their surgeon, besides being one of theirbravest warriors. Nestor took Machaon in his chariot and conveyedhim from the field. As they passed the ships of Achilles, thathero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot of Nestor andrecognized the old chief, but could not discern who the woundedchief was. So calling Patroclus, his companion and dearest friend, he sent him to Nestor's tent to inquire. 

Patroclus, arriving at Nestor's tent, saw Machaon wounded, andhaving told the cause of his coming would have hastened away, butNestor detained him, to tell him the extent of the Greciancalamities. He reminded him also how, at the time of departing forTroy, Achilles and himself had been charged by their respectivefathers with different advice: Achilles to aspire to the highestpitch of glory, Patroclus, as the elder, to keep watch over hisfriend, and to guide his inexperience. "Now, " said Nestor, "is thetime for such influence. If the gods so please, thou mayest winhim back to the common cause; but if not let him at least send hissoldiers to the field, and come thou, Patroclus, clad in hisarmor, and perhaps the very sight of it may drive back theTrojans. "

Patroclus was strongly moved with this address, and hastened backto Achilles, revolving in his mind all he had seen and heard. Hetold the prince the sad condition of affairs at the camp of theirlate associates: Diomede, Ulysses, Agamemnon, Machaon, allwounded, the rampart broken down, the enemy among the shipspreparing to burn them, and thus to cut off all means of return toGreece. While they spoke the flames burst forth from one of theships. Achilles, at the sight, relented so far as to grantPatroclus his request to lead the Myrmidons (for so were Achilles'soldiers called) to the field, and to lend him his armor, that hemight thereby strike more terror into the minds of the Trojans. Without delay the soldiers were marshalled, Patroclus put on theradiant armor and mounted the chariot of Achilles, and led forththe men ardent for battle. But before he went, Achilles strictlycharged him that he should be content with repelling the foe "Seeknot, " said he, "to press the Trojans without me, lest thou addstill more to the disgrace already mine. " Then exhorting thetroops to do their best he dismissed them full of ardor to thefight. 

Patroclus and his Myrmidons at once plunged into the contest whereit raged hottest; at the sight of which the joyful Greciansshouted and the ships reechoed the acclaim. The Trojans, at thesight of the well-known armor, struck with terror, lookedeverywhere for refuge. First those who had got possession of theship and set it on fire left and allowed the Grecians to retake itand extinguish the flames. Then the rest of the Trojans fled indismay. Ajax, Menelaus, and the two sons of Nestor performedprodigies of valor. Hector was forced to turn his horses' headsand retire from the enclosure, leaving his men entangled in thefosse to escape as they could. Patroclus drove them before him, slaying many, none daring to make a stand against him. 

At last Sarpedon, son of Jove, ventured to oppose himself in fightto Patroclus. Jupiter looked down upon him and would have snatchedhim from the fate which awaited him, but Juno hinted that if hedid so it would induce all others of the inhabitants of heaven tointerpose in like manner whenever any of their offspring wereendangered; to which reason Jove yielded. Sarpedon threw hisspear, but missed Patroclus, but Patroclus threw his with bettersuccess. It pierced Sarpedon's breast and he fell, and, calling tohis friends to save his body from the foe, expired. Then a furiouscontest arose for the possession of the corpse. The Greekssucceeded and stripped Sarpedon of his armor; but Jove would notallow the remains of his son to be dishonored, and by his commandApollo snatched from the midst of the combatants the body ofSarpedon and committed it to the care of the twin brothers Deathand Sleep, by whom it was transported to Lycia, the native land ofSarpedon, where it received due funeral rites. 

Thus far Patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish in repellingthe Trojans and relieving his countrymen, but now came a change offortune. Hector, borne in his chariot, confronted him. Patroclusthrew a vast stone at Hector, which missed its aim, but smoteCebriones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the car. Hectorleaped from the chariot to rescue his friend, and Patroclus alsodescended to complete his victory. Thus the two heroes met face toface. At this decisive moment the poet, as if reluctant to giveHector the glory, records that Phoebus took part againstPatroclus. He struck the helmet from his head and the lance fromhis hand. At the same moment an obscure Trojan wounded him in theback, and Hector, pressing forward, pierced him with his spear. Hefell mortally wounded. 

Then arose a tremendous conflict for the body of Patroclus, buthis armor was at once taken possession of by Hector, who retiringa short distance divested himself of his own armor and put on thatof Achilles, then returned to the fight. Ajax and Menelausdefended the body, and Hector and his bravest warriors struggledto capture it. The battle raged with equal fortunes, when Joveenveloped the whole face of heaven with a dark cloud. Thelightning flashed, the thunder roared, and Ajax, looking round forsome one whom he might despatch to Achilles to tell him of thedeath of his friend, and of the imminent danger that his remainswould fall into the hands of the enemy, could see no suitablemessenger. It was then that he exclaimed in those famous lines sooften quoted, "Father of heaven and earth! deliver thou Achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies; Give day; and, since thy sovereign will is such, Destruction with it; but, O, give us day. "

 --Cowper. 

Or, as rendered by Pope, "... Lord of earth and air! O king! O father! hear my humble prayer! Dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore; Give me to see and Ajax asks no more; If Greece must perish we thy will obey, But let us perish in the face of day. "

Jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds. Then Ajax sentAntilochus to Achilles with the intelligence of Patroclus's death, and of the conflict raging for his remains. The Greeks at lastsucceeded in bearing off the body to the ships, closely pursued byHector and Aeneas and the rest of the Trojans. 

Achilles heard the fate of his friend with such distress thatAntilochus feared for a while that he would destroy himself. Hisgroans reached the ears of his mother, Thetis, far down in thedeeps of ocean where she abode, and she hastened to him to inquirethe cause. She found him overwhelmed with self-reproach that hehad indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his friend tofall a victim to it. But his only consolation was the hope ofrevenge. He would fly instantly in search of Hector. But hismother reminded him that he was now without armor, and promisedhim, if he would but wait till the morrow, she would procure forhim a suit of armor from Vulcan more than equal to that he hadlost. He consented, and Thetis immediately repaired to Vulcan'spalace. She found him busy at his forge making tripods for his ownuse, so artfully constructed that they moved forward of their ownaccord when wanted, and retired again when dismissed. On hearingthe request of Thetis, Vulcan immediately laid aside his work andhastened to comply with her wishes. He fabricated a splendid suitof armor for Achilles, first a shield adorned with elaboratedevices, then a helmet crested with gold, then a corselet andgreaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly adapted to his form, and of consummate workmanship. It was all done in one night, andThetis, receiving it, descended with it to earth, and laid it downat Achilles' feet at the dawn of day. 

The first glow of pleasure that Achilles had felt since the deathof Patroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor. And now, arrayed in it, he went forth into the camp, calling all the chiefsto council. When they were all assembled he addressed them. Renouncing his displeasure against Agamemnon and bitterlylamenting the miseries that had resulted from it, he called onthem to proceed at once to the field. Agamemnon made a suitablereply, laying all the blame on Ate, the goddess of discord; andthereupon complete reconcilement took place between the heroes. 

Then Achilles went forth to battle inspired with a rage and thirstfor vengeance that made him irresistible. The bravest warriorsfled before him or fell by his lance. Hector, cautioned by Apollo, kept aloof; but the god, assuming the form of one of Priam's sons, Lycaon, urged Aeneas to encounter the terrible warrior. Aeneas, though he felt himself unequal, did not decline the combat. Hehurled his spear with all his force against the shield the work ofVulcan. It was formed of five metal plates; two were of brass, twoof tin, and one of gold. The spear pierced two thicknesses, butwas stopped in the third. Achilles threw his with better success. It pierced through the shield of Aeneas, but glanced near hisshoulder and made no wound. Then Aeneas seized a stone, such astwo men of modern times could hardly lift, and was about to throwit, and Achilles, with sword drawn, was about to rush upon him, when Neptune, who looked out upon the contest, moved with pity forAeneas, who he saw would surely fall a victim if not speedilyrescued, spread a cloud between the combatants, and lifting Aeneasfrom the ground, bore him over the heads of warriors and steeds tothe rear of the battle. Achilles, when the mist cleared away, looked round in vain for his adversary, and acknowledging theprodigy, turned his arms against other champions. But none daredstand before him, and Priam looking down from the city wallsbeheld his whole army in full flight towards the city. He gavecommand to open wide the gates to receive the fugitives, and toshut them as soon as the Trojans should have passed, lest theenemy should enter likewise. But Achilles was so close in pursuitthat that would have been impossible if Apollo had not, in theform of Agenor, Priam's son, encountered Achilles for a while, then turned to fly, and taken the way apart from the city. Achilles pursued and had chased his supposed victim far from thewalls, when Apollo disclosed himself, and Achilles, perceiving howhe had been deluded, gave up the chase. 

But when the rest had escaped into the town Hector stood withoutdetermined to await the combat. His old father called to him fromthe walls and begged him to retire nor tempt the encounter. Hismother, Hecuba, also besought him to the same effect, but all invain. "How can I, " said he to himself, "by whose command thepeople went to this day's contest, where so many have fallen, seeksafety for myself against a single foe? But what if I offer him toyield up Helen and all her treasures and ample of our own beside?Ah, no! it is too late. He would not even hear me through, butslay me while I spoke. " While he thus ruminated. Achillesapproached, terrible as Mars, his armor flashing lightning as hemoved. At that sight Hector's heart failed him and he fled. Achilles swiftly pursued. They ran, still keeping near the walls, till they had thrice encircled the city. As often as Hectorapproached the walls Achilles intercepted him and forced him tokeep out in a wider circle. But Apollo sustained Hector's strengthand would not let him sink in weariness. Then Pallas, assuming theform of Deiphobus, Hector's bravest brother, appeared suddenly athis side. Hector saw him with delight, and thus strengthenedstopped his flight and turned to meet Achilles. Hector threw hisspear, which struck the shield of Achilles and bounded back. Heturned to receive another from the hand of Deiphobus, butDeiphobus was gone. Then Hector understood his doom and said, "Alas! it is plain this is my hour to die! I thought Deiphobus athand, but Pallas deceived me, and he is still in Troy. But I willnot fall inglorious, " So saying he drew his falchion from his sideand rushed at once to combat. Achilles, secured behind his shield, waited the approach of Hector. When he came within reach of hisspear, Achilles choosing with his eye a vulnerable part where thearmor leaves the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part andHector fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, "Spare my body! Letmy parents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from thesons and daughters of Troy. " To which Achilles replied, "Dog, namenot ransom nor pity to me, on whom you have brought such diredistress. No! trust me, naught shall save thy carcass from thedogs. Though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold were offered, Iwould refuse it all. "

So saying he stripped the body of its armor, and fastening cordsto the feet tied them behind his chariot, leaving the body totrail along the ground. Then mounting the chariot he lashed thesteeds and so dragged the body to and fro before the city. Whatwords can tell the grief of King Priam and Queen Hecuba at thissight! His people could scarce restrain the old king from rushingforth. He threw himself in the dust and besought them each by nameto give him way. Hecuba's distress was not less violent. Thecitizens stood round them weeping. The sound of the mourningreached the ears of Andromache, the wife of Hector, as she satamong her maidens at work, and anticipating evil she went forth tothe wall. When she saw the sight there presented, she would havethrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted and fell intothe arms of her maidens. Recovering, she bewailed her fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a captive, andher son dependent for his bread on the charity of strangers. 

When Achilles and the Greeks had taken their revenge on the killerof Patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral rites totheir friend. A pile was erected, and the body burned with duesolemnity; and then ensued games of strength and skill, chariotraces, wrestling, boxing, and archery. Then the chiefs sat down tothe funeral banquet and after that retired to rest. But Achillesneither partook of the feast nor of sleep. The recollection of hislost friend kept him awake, remembering their companionship intoil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep. Before theearliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot hisswift steeds, he fastened Hector's body to be dragged behind. Twice he dragged him around the tomb of Patroclus, leaving him atlength stretched in the dust. But Apollo would not permit the bodyto be torn or disfigured with all this abuse, but preserved itfree from all taint or defilement. 

While Achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing brave Hector, Jupiter in pity summoned Thetis to his presence. He told her to goto her son and prevail on him to restore the body of Hector to hisfriends. Then Jupiter sent Iris to King Priam to encourage him togo to Achilles and beg the body of his son. Iris delivered hermessage, and Priam immediately prepared to obey. He opened histreasuries and took out rich garments and cloths, with ten talentsin gold and two splendid tripods and a golden cup of matchlessworkmanship. Then he called to his sons and bade them draw forthhis litter and place in it the various articles designed for aransom to Achilles. When all was ready, the old king with a singlecompanion as aged as himself, the herald Idaeus, drove forth fromthe gates, parting there with Hecuba, his queen, and all hisfriends, who lamented him as going to certain death. 

But Jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable king, sentMercury to be his guide and protector. Mercury, assuming the formof a young warrior, presented himself to the aged couple, andwhile at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or yield, the god approached, and grasping Priam's hand offered to be theirguide to Achilles' tent. Priam gladly accepted his offeredservice, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed the reins and soonconveyed them to the tent of Achilles. Mercury's wand put to sleepall the guards, and without hinderance he introduced Priam intothe tent where Achilles sat, attended by two of his warriors. Theold king threw himself at the feet of Achilles, and kissed thoseterrible hands which had destroyed so many of his sons. "Think, OAchilles, " he said, "of thy own father, full of days like me, andtrembling on the gloomy verge of life. Perhaps even now someneighbor chief oppresses him and there is none at hand to succorhim in his distress. Yet doubtless knowing that Achilles lives hestill rejoices, hoping that one day he shall see thy face again. But no comfort cheers me, whose bravest sons, so late the flowerof Ilium, all have fallen. Yet one I had, one more than all therest the strength of my age, whom, fighting for his country, thouhast slain. I come to redeem his body, bringing inestimable ransomwith me. Achilles! reverence the gods! recollect thy father! forhis sake show compassion to me!" These words moved Achilles, andhe wept; remembering by turns his absent father and his lostfriend. Moved with pity of Priam's silver locks and beard, heraised him from the earth, and thus spake: "Priam, I know thatthou hast reached this place conducted by some god, for withoutaid divine no mortal even in his prime of youth had dared theattempt. I grant thy request, moved thereto by the evident will ofJove. " So saying he arose, and went forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge the litter, leaving two mantles and arobe for the covering of the body, which they placed on thelitter, and spread the garments over it, that not unveiled itshould be borne back to Troy. Then Achilles dismissed the old kingwith his attendants, having first pledged himself to allow a truceof twelve days for the funeral solemnities. 

As the litter approached the city and was descried from the walls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of theirhero. Foremost of all, the mother and the wife of Hector came, andat the sight of the lifeless body renewed their lamentations. Thepeople all wept with them, and to the going down of the sun therewas no pause or abatement of their grief. 

The next day preparations were made for the funeral solemnities. For nine days the people brought wood and built the pile, and onthe tenth they placed the body on the summit and applied thetorch; while all Troy thronging forth encompassed the pile. Whenit had completely burned, they quenched the cinders with wine, collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn, which theyburied in the earth, and reared a pile of stones over the spot. 

 "Such honors Ilium to her hero paid, And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade. "

 --Pope. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE FALL OF TROY--RETURN OF THE GREEKS--ORESTES AND ELECTRA

THE FALL OF TROY

The story of the Iliad ends with the death of Hector, and it isfrom the Odyssey and later poems that we learn the fate of theother heroes. After the death of Hector, Troy did not immediatelyfall, but receiving aid from new allies still continued itsresistance. One of these allies was Memnon, the Aethiopian prince, whose story we have already told. Another was Penthesilea, queenof the Amazons, who came with a band of female warriors. All theauthorities attest their valor and the fearful effect of their warcry. Penthesilea slew many of the bravest warriors, but was atlast slain by Achilles. But when the hero bent over his fallenfoe, and contemplated her beauty, youth, and valor, he bitterlyregretted his victory. Thersites, an insolent brawler anddemagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in consequence slain bythe hero. 

Achilles by chance had seen Polyxena, daughter of King Priam, perhaps on the occasion of the truce which was allowed the Trojansfor the burial of Hector. He was captivated with her charms, andto win her in marriage agreed to use his influence with the Greeksto grant peace to Troy. While in the temple of Apollo, negotiatingthe marriage, Paris discharged at him a poisoned arrow, which, guided by Apollo, wounded Achilles in the heel, the onlyvulnerable part about him. For Thetis his mother had dipped himwhen an infant in the river Styx, which made every part of himinvulnerable except the heel by which she held him. [Footnote 1:The story of the invulnerability of Achilles is not found inHomer, and is inconsistent with his account. For how couldAchilles require the aid of celestial armor if be wereinvulnerable?]

The body of Achilles so treacherously slain was rescued by Ajaxand Ulysses. Thetis directed the Greeks to bestow her son's armoron the hero who of all the survivors should be judged mostdeserving of it. Ajax and Ulysses were the only claimants; aselect number of the other chiefs were appointed to award theprize. It was awarded to Ulysses, thus placing wisdom beforevalor; whereupon Ajax slew himself. On the spot where his bloodsank into the earth a flower sprang up, called the hyacinth, bearing on its leaves the first two letters of the name of Ajax, Ai, the Greek for "woe. " Thus Ajax is a claimant with the boyHyacinthus for the honor of giving birth to this flower. There isa species of Larkspur which represents the hyacinth of the poetsin preserving the memory of this event, the Delphinium Ajacis--Ajax's Larkspur. 

It was now discovered that Troy could not be taken but by the aidof the arrows of Hercules. They were in possession of Philoctetes, the friend who had been with Hercules at the last and lighted hisfuneral pyre. Philoctetes had joined the Grecian expeditionagainst Troy, but had accidentally wounded his foot with one ofthe poisoned arrows, and the smell from his wound proved sooffensive that his companions carried him to the isle of Lemnosand left him there. Diomed was now sent to induce him to rejointhe army. He sukcceeded. Philoctetes was cured of his wound byMachaon, and Paris was the first victim of the fatal arrows. Inhis distress Paris bethought him of one whom in his prosperity hehad forgotten. This was the nymph OEnone, whom he had married whena youth, and had abandoned for the fatal beauty Helen. OEnone, remembering the wrongs she had suffered, refused to heal thewound, and Paris went back to Troy and died. OEnone quicklyrepented, and hastened after him with remedies, but came too late, and in her grief hung herself. [Footnote 1: Tennyson has chosenOEnone as the subject of a short poem; but he has omitted the mostpoetical part of the story, the return of Paris wounded, hercruelty and subsequent repentance. ]

There was in Troy a celebrated statue of Minerva called thePalladium. It was said to have fallen from heaven, and the beliefwas that the city could not be taken so long as this statueremained within it. Ulysses and Diomed entered the city indisguise and succeeded in obtaining the Palladium, which theycarried off to the Grecian camp. 

But Troy still held out, and the Greeks began to despair of eversubduing it by force, and by advice of Ulysses resolved to resortto stratagem. They pretended to be making preparations to abandonthe siege, and a portion of the ships were withdrawn and lay hidbehind a neighboring island. The Greeks then constructed animmense WOODEN HORSE, which they gave out was intended as apropitiatory offering to Minerva, but in fact was filled witharmed men. The remaining Greeks then betook themselves to theirships and sailed away, as if for a final departure. The Trojans, seeing the encampment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded theenemy to have abandoned the siege. The gates were thrown open, andthe whole population issued forth rejoicing at the long-prohibitedliberty of passing freely over the scene of the late encampment. The great HORSE was the chief object of curiosity. All wonderedwhat it could be for. Some recommended to take it into the city asa trophy; others felt afraid of it. 

While they hesitate, Laocoon, the priest of Neptune exclaims, "What madness, citizens, is this? Have you not learned enough ofGrecian fraud to be on your guard against it? For my part, I fearthe Greeks even when they offer gifts. " [Footnote: See ProverbialExpressions. ] So saying he threw his lance at the horse's side. Itstruck, and a hollow sound reverberated like a groan. Then perhapsthe people might have taken his advice and destroyed the fatalhorse and all its contents; but just at that moment a group ofpeople appeared, dragging forward one who seemed a prisoner and aGreek. Stupefied with terror, he was brought before the chiefs, who reassured him, promising that his life should be spared oncondition of his returning true answers to the questions askedhim. He informed them that he was a Greek, Sinon by name, and thatin consequence of the malice of Ulysses he had been left behind byhis countrymen at their departure. With regard to the woodenhorse, he told them that it was a propitiatory offering toMinerva, and made so huge for the express purpose of preventingits being carried within the city; for Calchas the prophet hadtold them that if the Trojans took possession of it they wouldassuredly triumph over the Greeks. This language turned the tideof the people's feelings and they began to think how they mightbest secure the monstrous horse and the favorable auguriesconnected with it, when suddenly a prodigy occurred which left noroom to doubt. There appeared, advancing over the sea, two immenseserpents. They came upon the land, and the crowd fled in alldirections. The serpents advanced directly to the spot whereLaocoon stood with his two sons. They first attacked the children, winding round their bodies and breathing their pestilential breathin their faces. The father, attempting to rescue them, is nextseized and involved in the serpents' coils. He struggles to tearthem away, but they overpower all his efforts and strangle him andthe children in their poisonous folds. This event was regarded asa clear indication of the displeasure of the gods at Laocoon'sirreverent treatment of the wooden horse, which they no longerhesitated to regard as a sacred object, and prepared to introducewith due solemnity into the city. This was done with songs andtriumphal acclamations, and the day closed with festivity. In thenight the armed men who were enclosed in the body of the horse, being let out by the traitor Sinon, opened the gates of the cityto their friends, who had returned under cover of the night. Thecity was set on fire; the people, overcome with feasting andsleep, put to the sword, and Troy completely subdued. 

One of the most celebrated groups of statuary in existence is thatof Laocoon and his children in the embrace of the serpents. A castof it is owned by the Boston Athenaeum; the original is in theVatican at Rome. The following lines are from the "Childe Harold"of Byron:

 "Now turning to the Vatican go see Laocoon's torture dignifying pain; A father's love and mortal's agony With an immortal's patience blending;--vain The struggle! vain against the coiling strain And gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp The old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain Rivets the living links; the enormous asp Enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp. "

The comic poets will also occasionally borrow a classicalallusion. The following is from Swift's "Description of a CityShower":

 "Boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits, While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, And ever and anon with frightful din The leather sounds; he trembles from within. So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed, (Those bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do, Instead of paying chairmen, run them through); Laocoon struck the outside with a spear, And each imprisoned champion quaked with fear. "

King Priam lived to see the downfall of his kingdom and was slainat last on the fatal night when the Greeks took the city. He hadarmed himself and was about to mingle with the combatants, but wasprevailed on by Hecuba, his aged queen, to take refuge withherself and his daughters as a suppliant at the altar of Jupiter. While there, his youngest son Polites, pursued by Pyrrhus, the sonof Achilles, rushed in wounded, and expired at the feet of hisfather; whereupon Priam, overcome with indignation, hurled hisspear with feeble hand against Pyrrhus, [Footnote 1: Pyrrhus'sexclamation, "Not such aid nor such defenders does the timerequire, " has become proverbial. See Proverbial Expressions. ] andwas forthwith slain by him. 

Queen Hecuba and her daughter Cassandra were carried captives toGreece. Cassandra had been loved by Apollo, and he gave her thegift of prophecy; but afterwards offended with her, he renderedthe gift unavailing by ordaining that her predictions should neverbe believed. Polyxena, another daughter, who had been loved byAchilles, was demanded by the ghost of that warrior, and wassacrificed by the Greeks upon his tomb. 

MENELAUS AND HELEN

Our readers will be anxious to know the fate of Helen, the fairbut guilty occasion of so much slaughter. On the fall of TroyMenelaus recovered possession of his wife, who had not ceased tolove him, though she had yielded to the might of Venus anddeserted him for another. After the death of Paris she aided theGreeks secretly on several occasions, and in particular whenUlysses and Diomed entered the city in disguise to carry off thePalladium. She saw and recognized Ulysses, but kept the secret andeven assisted them in obtaining the image. Thus she becamereconciled to her husband, and they were among the first to leavethe shores of Troy for their native land. But having incurred thedispleasure of the gods they were driven by storms from shore toshore of the Mediterranean, visiting Cyprus, Phoenicia, and Egypt. In Egypt they were kindly treated and presented with rich gifts, of which Helen's share was a golden spindle and a basket onwheels. The basket was to hold the wool and spools for the queen'swork. 

Dyer, in his poem of the "Fleece, " thus alludes to this incident:

 "... Many yet adhere To the ancient distaff, at the bosom fixed, Casting the whirling spindle as they walk. 

 This was of old, in no inglorious days, The mode of spinning, when the Egyptian prince A golden distaff gave that beauteous nymph, Too beauteous Helen; no uncourtly gift. "

Milton also alludes to a famous recipe for an invigoratingdraught, called Nepenthe, which the Egyptian queen gave to Helen:

 "Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena, Is of such power to stir up joy as this, To life so friendly or so cool to thirst. "

 --Comus. 

Menelaus and Helen at length arrived in safety at Sparta, resumedtheir royal dignity, and lived and reigned in splendor; and whenTelemachus, the son of Ulysses, in search of his father, arrivedat Sparta, he found Menelaus and Helen celebrating the marriage oftheir daughter Hermione to Neoptolemus, son of Achilles. 

AGAMEMNON, ORESTES, AND ELECTRA

Agamemnon, the general-in-chief of the Greeks, the brother ofMenelaus, and who had been drawn into the quarrel to avenge hisbrother's wrongs, not his own, was not so fortunate in the issue. During his absence his wife Clytemnestra had been false to him, and when his return was expected, she with her paramour, Aegisthus, laid a plan for his destruction, and at the banquetgiven to celebrate his return, murdered him. 

It was intended by the conspirators to slay his son Orestes also, a lad not yet old enough to be an object of apprehension, but fromwhom, if he should be suffered to grow up, there might be danger. Electra, the sister of Orestes, saved her brother's life bysending him secretly away to his uncle Strophius, King of Phocis. In the palace of Strophius Orestes grew up with the king's sonPylades, and formed with him that ardent friendship which hasbecome proverbial. Electra frequently reminded her brother bymessengers of the duty of avenging his father's death, and whengrown up he consulted the oracle of Delphi, which confirmed him inhis design. He therefore repaired in disguise to Argos, pretendingto be a messenger from Strophius, who had come to announce thedeath of Orestes, and brought the ashes of the deceased in afuneral urn. After visiting his father's tomb and sacrificing uponit, according to the rites of the ancients, he made himself knownto his sister Electra, and soon after slew both Aegisthus andClytemnestra. 

This revolting act, the slaughter of a mother by her son, thoughalleviated by the guilt of the victim and the express command ofthe gods, did not fail to awaken in the breasts of the ancientsthe same abhorrence that it does in ours. The Eumenides, avengingdeities, seized upon Orestes, and drove him frantic from land toland. Pylades accompanied him in his wanderings and watched overhim. At length, in answer to a second appeal to the oracle, he wasdirected to go to Tauris in Scythia, and to bring thence a statueof Diana which was believed to have fallen from heaven. Accordingly Orestes and Pylades went to Tauris, where thebarbarous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess allstrangers who fell into their hands. The two friends were seizedand carried bound to the temple to be made victims. But thepriestess of Diana was no other than Iphigenia, the sister ofOrestes, who, our readers will remember, was snatched away byDiana at the moment when she was about to be sacrificed. Ascertaining from the prisoners who they were, Iphigenia disclosedherself to them, and the three made their escape with the statueof the goddess, and returned to Mycenae. 

But Orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance of theErinyes. At length he took refuge with Minerva at Athens. Thegoddess afforded him protection, and appointed the court ofAreopagus to decide his fate. The Erinyes brought forward theiraccusation, and Orestes made the command of the Delphic oracle hisexcuse. When the court voted and the voices were equally divided, Orestes was acquitted by the command of Minerva. 

Byron, in "Childe Harold, " Canto IV. , alludes to the story ofOrestes:

 "O thou who never yet of human wrong Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis! Thou who didst call the Furies from the abyss, And round Orestes bade them howl and hiss, For that unnatural retribution, --just, Had it but been from hands less near, --in this, Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust!"

One of the most pathetic scenes in the ancient drama is that inwhich Sophocles represents the meeting of Orestes and Electra, onhis return from Phocis. Orestes, mistaking Electra for one of thedomestics, and desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till thehour of vengeance should arrive, produces the urn in which hisashes are supposed to rest. Electra, believing him to be reallydead, takes the urn and, embracing it, pours forth her grief inlanguage full of tenderness and despair. 

Milton, in one of his sonnets, says:

 "... The repeated air Of sad Electra's poet had the power To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. "

This alludes to the story that when, on one occasion, the city ofAthens was at the mercy of her Spartan foes, and it was proposedto destroy it, the thought was rejected upon the accidentalquotation, by some one, of a chorus of Euripides. 

TROY

The facts relating to the city of Troy are still unknown tohistory. Antiquarians have long sought for the actual city andsome record of its rulers. The most interesting explorations werethose conducted about 1890 by the German scholar, HenrySchliemann, who believed that at the mound of Hissarlik, thetraditional site of Troy, he had uncovered the ancient capital. Schliemann excavated down below the ruins of three or foursettlements, each revealing an earlier civilization, and finallycame upon some royal jewels and other relics said to be "Priam'sTreasure. " Scholars are by no means agreed as to the historicvalue of these discoveries. 

CHAPTER XXIX

ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES--THE LOTUS-EATERS--CYCLOPES--CIRCE--SIRENS--SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS--CALYPSO

RETURN OF ULYSSES

The romantic poem of the Odyssey is now to engage our attention. It narrates the wanderings of Ulysses (Odysseus in the Greeklanguage) in his return from Troy to his own kingdom Ithaca. 

From Troy the vessels first made land at Ismarus, city of theCiconians, where, in a skirmish with the inhabitants, Ulysses lostsix men from each ship. Sailing thence, they were overtaken by astorm which drove them for nine days along the sea till theyreached the country of the Lotus-eaters. Here, after watering, Ulysses sent three of his men to discover who the inhabitantswere. These men on coming among the Lotus-eaters were kindlyentertained by them, and were given some of their own food, thelotus-plant, to eat. The effect of this food was such that thosewho partook of it lost all thoughts of home and wished to remainin that country. It was by main force that Ulysses dragged thesemen away, and he was even obliged to tie them under the benches ofthe ships. 

[Footnote: Tennyson in the "Lotus-eaters" has charmingly expressedthe dreamy, languid feeling which the lotus food is said to haveproduced. 

 "How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream With half-shut eyes ever to seem Falling asleep in a half dream! To dream and dream, like yonder amber light Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; To hear each others' whispered speech; Eating the Lotos, day by day, To watch the crisping ripples on the beach, And tender curving lines of creamy spray: To lend our hearts and spirits wholly To the influence of mild-minded melancholy; To muse and brood and live again in memory, With those old faces of our infancy Heaped over with a mound of grass, Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass. "]

They next arrived at the country of the Cyclopes. The Cyclopeswere giants, who inhabited an island of which they were the onlypossessors. The name means "round eye, " and these giants were socalled because they had but one eye, and that placed in the middleof the forehead. They dwelt in caves and fed on the wildproductions of the island and on what their flocks yielded, forthey were shepherds. Ulysses left the main body of his ships atanchor, and with one vessel went to the Cyclopes' island toexplore for supplies. He landed with his companions, carrying withthem a jar of wine for a present, and coming to a large cave theyentered it, and finding no one within examined its contents. Theyfound it stored with the richest of the flock, quantities ofcheese, pails and bowls of milk, lambs and kids in their pens, allin nice order. Presently arrived the master of the cave, Polyphemus, bearing an immense bundle of firewood, which he threwdown before the cavern's mouth. He then drove into the cave thesheep and goats to be milked, and, entering, rolled to the cave'smouth an enormous rock, that twenty oxen could not draw. Next hesat down and milked his ewes, preparing a part for cheese, andsetting the rest aside for his customary drink. Then, turninground his great eye, he discerned the strangers, and growled outto them, demanding who they were, and where from. Ulysses repliedmost humbly, stating that they were Greeks, from the greatexpedition that had lately won so much glory in the conquest ofTroy; that they were now on their way home, and finished byimploring his hospitality in the name of the gods. Polyphemusdeigned no answer, but reaching out his hand seized two of theGreeks, whom he hurled against the side of the cave, and dashedout their brains. He proceeded to devour them with great relish, and having made a hearty meal, stretched himself out on the floorto sleep. Ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plungehis sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it would onlyexpose them all to certain destruction, as the rock with which thegiant had closed up the door was far beyond their power to remove, and they would therefore be in hopeless imprisonment. Next morningthe giant seized two more of the Greeks, and despatched them inthe same manner as their companions, feasting on their flesh tillno fragment was left. He then moved away the rock from the door, drove out his flocks, and went out, carefully replacing thebarrier after him. When he was gone Ulysses planned how he mighttake vengeance for his murdered friends, and effect his escapewith his surviving companions. He made his men prepare a massivebar of wood cut by the Cyclops for a staff, which they found inthe cave. They sharpened the end of it, and seasoned it in thefire, and hid it under the straw on the cavern floor. Then four ofthe boldest were selected, with whom Ulysses joined himself as afifth. The Cyclops came home at evening, rolled away the stone anddrove in his flock as usual. After milking them and making hisarrangements as before, he seized two more of Ulysses' companionsand dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal upon themas he had on the others. After he had supped, Ulysses approachinghim handed him a bowl of wine, saying, "Cyclops, this is wine;taste and drink after thy meal of men's flesh. " He took and drankit, and was hugely delighted with it, and called for more. Ulyssessupplied him once again, which pleased the giant so much that hepromised him as a favor that he should be the last of the partydevoured. He asked his name, to which Ulysses replied, "My name isNoman. "

After his supper the giant lay down to repose, and was soon soundasleep. Then Ulysses with his four select friends thrust the endof the stake into the fire till it was all one burning coal, thenpoising it exactly above the giant's only eye, they buried itdeeply into the socket, twirling it round as a carpenter does hisauger. The howling monster with his outcry filled the cavern, andUlysses with his aids nimbly got out of his way and concealedthemselves in the cave. He, bellowing, called aloud on all theCyclopes dwelling in the caves around him, far and near. They onhis cry flocked round the den, and inquired what grievous hurt hadcaused him to sound such an alarm and break their slumbers. Hereplied, "O friends, I die, and Noman gives the blow. " Theyanswered, "If no man hurts thee it is the stroke of Jove, and thoumust bear it. " So saying, they left him groaning. 

Next morning the Cyclops rolled away the stone to let his flockout to pasture, but planted himself in the door of the cave tofeel of all as they went out, that Ulysses and his men should notescape with them. But Ulysses had made his men harness the rams ofthe flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the floorof the cave. To the middle ram of the three one of the Greekssuspended himself, so protected by the exterior rams on eitherside. As they passed, the giant felt of the animals' backs andsides, but never thought of their bellies; so the men all passedsafe, Ulysses himself being on the last one that passed. When theyhad got a few paces from the cavern, Ulysses and his friendsreleased themselves from their rams, and drove a good part of theflock down to the shore to their boat. They put them aboard withall haste, then pushed off from the shore, and when at a safedistance Ulysses shouted out, "Cyclops, the gods have wellrequited thee for thy atrocious deeds. Know it is Ulysses to whomthou owest thy shameful loss of sight. " The Cyclops, hearing this, seized a rock that projected from the side of the mountain, andrending it from its bed, he lifted it high in the air, thenexerting all his force, hurled it in the direction of the voice. Down came the mass, just clearing the vessel's stern. The ocean, at the plunge of the huge rock, heaved the ship towards the land, so that it barely escaped being swamped by the waves. When theyhad with the utmost difficulty pulled off shore, Ulysses was aboutto hail the giant again, but his friends besought him not to doso. He could not forbear, however, letting the giant know thatthey had escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached asafer distance than before. The giant answered them with curses, but Ulysses and his friends plied their oars vigorously, and soonregained their companions. 

Ulysses next arrived at the island of Aeolus. To this monarchJupiter had intrusted the government of the winds, to send themforth or retain them at his will. He treated Ulysses hospitably, and at his departure gave him, tied up in a leathern bag, with asilver string, such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous, commanding fair winds to blow the barks towards their country. Nine days they sped before the wind, and all that time Ulysses hadstood at the helm, without sleep. At last quite exhausted he laydown to sleep. While he slept, the crew conferred together aboutthe mysterious bag, and concluded it must contain treasures givenby the hospitable king Aeolus to their commander. Tempted tosecure some portion for themselves, they loosed the string, whenimmediately the winds rushed forth. The ships were driven far fromtheir course, and back again to the island they had just left. Aeolus was so indignant at their folly that he refused to assistthem further, and they were obliged to labor over their courseonce more by means of their oars. 

THE LAESTRYGONIANS

Their next adventure was with the barbarous tribe ofLaestrygonians. The vessels all pushed into the harbor, tempted bythe secure appearance of the cove, completely land-locked; onlyUlysses moored his vessel without. As soon as the Laestrygoniansfound the ships completely in their power they attacked them, heaving huge stones which broke and overturned them, and withtheir spears despatched the seamen as they struggled in the water. All the vessels with their crews were destroyed, except Ulysses'own ship, which had remained outside, and finding no safety but inflight, he exhorted his men to ply their oars vigorously, and theyescaped. 

With grief for their slain companions mixed with joy at their ownescape, they pursued their way till they arrived at the Aeaeanisle, where Circe dwelt, the daughter of the sun. Landing here, Ulysses climbed a hill, and gazing round saw no signs ofhabitation except in one spot at the centre of the island, wherehe perceived a palace embowered with trees. He sent forward one-half of his crew, under the command of Eurylochus, to see whatprospect of hospitality they might find. As they approached thepalace, they found themselves surrounded by lions, tigers, andwolves, not fierce, but tamed by Circe's art, for she was apowerful magician. All these animals had once been men, but hadbeen changed by Circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts. Thesounds of soft music were heard from within, and a sweet femalevoice singing. Eurylochus called aloud and the goddess came forthand invited them in; they all gladly entered except Eurylochus, who suspected danger. The goddess conducted her guests to a seat, and had them served with wine and other delicacies. When they hadfeasted heartily, she touched them one by one with her wand, andthey became immediately changed into SWINE, in "head, body, voice, and bristles, " yet with their intellects as before. She shut themin her sties and supplied them with acorns and such other thingsas swine love. 

Eurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the tale. Ulyssesthereupon determined to go himself, and try if by any means hemight deliver his companions. As he strode onward alone, he met ayouth who addressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquaintedwith his adventures. He announced himself as Mercury, and informedUlysses of the arts of Circe, and of the danger of approachingher. As Ulysses was not to be dissuaded from his attempt, Mercuryprovided him with a sprig of the plant Moly, of wonderful power toresist sorceries, and instructed him how to act. Ulyssesproceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously received byCirce, who entertained him as she had done his companions, andafter he had eaten and drank, touched him with her wand, saying, "Hence, seek the sty and wallow with thy friends. " But he, insteadof obeying, drew his sword and rushed upon her with fury in hiscountenance. She fell on her knees and begged for mercy. Hedictated a solemn oath that she would release his companions andpractise no further harm against him or them; and she repeated it, at the same time promising to dismiss them all in safety afterhospitably entertaining them. She was as good as her word. The menwere restored to their shapes, the rest of the crew summoned fromthe shore, and the whole magnificently entertained day after day, till Ulysses seemed to have forgotten his native land, and to havereconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and pleasure. 

At length his companions recalled him to nobler sentiments, and hereceived their admonition gratefully. Circe aided their departure, and instructed them how to pass safely by the coast of the Sirens. The Sirens were sea-nymphs who had the power of charming by theirsong all who heard them, so that the unhappy mariners wereirresistibly impelled to cast themselves into the sea to theirdestruction. Circe directed Ulysses to fill the ears of his seamenwith wax, so that they should not hear the strain; and to causehimself to be bound to the mast, and his people to be strictlyenjoined, whatever he might say or do, by no means to release himtill they should have passed the Sirens' island. Ulysses obeyedthese directions. He filled the ears of his people with wax, andsuffered them to bind him with cords firmly to the mast. As theyapproached the Sirens' island, the sea was calm, and over thewaters came the notes of music so ravishing and attractive thatUlysses struggled to get loose, and by cries and signs to hispeople begged to be released; but they, obedient to his previousorders, sprang forward and bound him still faster. They held ontheir course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased to beheard, when with joy Ulysses gave his companions the signal tounseal their ears, and they relieved him from his bonds. 

The imagination of a modern poet, Keats, has discovered for us thethoughts that passed through the brains of the victims of Circe, after their transformation. In his "Endymion" he represents one ofthem, a monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing thesorceress in human language, thus:

 "I sue not for my happy crown again; I sue not for my phalanx on the plain; I sue not for my lone, my widowed wife; I sue not for my ruddy drops of life, My children fair, my lovely girls and boys; I will forget them; I will pass these joys, Ask nought so heavenward; so too--too high; Only I pray, as fairest boon, to die; To be delivered from this cumbrous flesh, From this gross, detestable, filthy mesh, And merely given to the cold, bleak air. Have mercy, goddess! Circe, feel my prayer!"

SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS

Ulysses had been warned by Circe of the two monsters Scylla andCharybdis. We have already met with Scylla in the story ofGlaucus, and remember that she was once a beautiful maiden and waschanged into a snaky monster by Circe. She dwelt in a cave high upon the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust forth herlong necks (for she had six heads), and in each of her mouths toseize one of the crew of every vessel passing within reach. Theother terror, Charybdis, was a gulf, nearly on a level with thewater. Thrice each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm, and thrice was disgorged. Any vessel coming near the whirlpoolwhen the tide was rushing in must inevitably be ingulfed; notNeptune himself could save it. 

On approaching the haunt of the dread monsters, Ulysses keptstrict watch to discover them. The roar of the waters as Charybdisingulfed them, gave warning at a distance, but Scylla couldnowhere be discerned. While Ulysses and his men watched withanxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally ontheir guard from the attack of Scylla, and the monster, dartingforth her snaky heads, caught six of his men, and bore them away, shrieking, to her den. It was the saddest sight Ulysses had yetseen; to behold his friends thus sacrificed and hear their cries, unable to afford them any assistance. 

Circe had warned him of another danger. After passing Scylla andCharybdis the next land he would make was Thrinakia, an islandwhereon were pastured the cattle of Hyperion, the Sun, tended byhis daughters Lampetia and Phaethusa. These flocks must not beviolated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. If thisinjunction were transgressed destruction was sure to fall on theoffenders. 

Ulysses would willingly have passed the island of the Sun withoutstopping, but his companions so urgently pleaded for the rest andrefreshment that would be derived from anchoring and passing thenight on shore, that Ulysses yielded. He bound them, however, withan oath that they would not touch one of the animals of the sacredflocks and herds, but content themselves with what provision theyyet had left of the supply which Circe had put on board. So longas this supply lasted the people kept their oath, but contrarywinds detained them at the island for a month, and after consumingall their stock of provisions, they were forced to rely upon thebirds and fishes they could catch. Famine pressed them, and atlength one day, in the absence of Ulysses, they slew some of thecattle, vainly attempting to make amends for the deed by offeringfrom them a portion to the offended powers. Ulysses, on his returnto the shore, was horror-struck at perceiving what they had done, and the more so on account of the portentous signs which followed. The skins crept on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on thespits while roasting. 

The wind becoming fair they sailed from the island. They had notgone far when the weather changed, and a storm of thunder andlightning ensued. A stroke of lightning shattered their mast, which in its fall killed the pilot. At last the vessel itself cameto pieces. The keel and mast floating side by side, Ulysses formedof them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing, thewaves bore him to Calypso's island. All the rest of the crewperished. 

The following allusion to the topics we have just been consideringis from Milton's "Comus, " line 252:

 "... I have often heard My mother Circe and the Sirens three, Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades, Culling their potent herbs and baneful drugs, Who as they sung would take the prisoned soul And lap it in Elysium. Scylla wept, And chid her barking waves into attention, And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause. "

Scylla and Charybdis have become proverbial, to denote oppositedangers which beset one's course. See Proverbial Expressions. 

 CALYPSO

Calypso was a sea-nymph, which name denotes a numerous class offemale divinities of lower rank, yet sharing many of theattributes of the gods. Calypso received Ulysses hospitably, entertained him magnificently, became enamoured of him, and wishedto retain him forever, conferring on him immortality. But hepersisted in his resolution to return to his country and his wifeand son. Calypso at last received the command of Jove to dismisshim. Mercury brought the message to her, and found her in hergrotto, which is thus described by Homer:

 "A garden vine, luxuriant on all sides, Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph, Their sinuous course pursuing side by side, Strayed all around, and everywhere appeared Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er With violets; it was a scene to fill A god from heaven with wonder and delight. "

Calypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the commands ofJupiter. She supplied Ulysses with the means of constructing araft, provisioned it well for him, and gave him a favoring gale. He sped on his course prosperously for many days, till at length, when in sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, andthreatened to rend the raft asunder. In this crisis he was seen bya compassionate sea-nymph, who in the form of a cormorant alightedon the raft, and presented him a girdle, directing him to bind itbeneath his breast, and if he should be compelled to trust himselfto the waves, it would buoy him up and enable him by swimming toreach the land. 

Fenelon, in his romance of "Telemachus, " has given us theadventures of the son of Ulysses in search of his father. Amongother places at which he arrived, following on his father'sfootsteps, was Calypso's isle, and, as in the former case, thegoddess tried every art to keep him with her, and offered to shareher immortality with him. But Minerva, who in the shape of Mentoraccompanied him and governed all his movements, made him repel herallurements, and when no other means of escape could be found, thetwo friends leaped from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vesselwhich lay becalmed off shore. Byron alludes to this leap ofTelemachus and Mentor in the following stanza:

 "But not in silence pass Calypso's isles, The sister tenants of the middle deep; There for the weary still a haven smiles, Though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep, And o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep For him who dared prefer a mortal bride. Here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap, Stern Mentor urged from high to yonder tide; While thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed. "

CHAPTER XXX

THE PHAEACIANS--FATE OF THE SUITORS

THE PHAEACIANS

Ulysses clung to the raft while any of its timbers kept together, and when it no longer yielded him support, binding the girdlearound him, he swam. Minerva smoothed the billows before him andsent him a wind that rolled the waves towards the shore. The surfbeat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid approach; but atlength finding calm water at the mouth of a gentle stream, helanded, spent with toil, breathless and speechless and almostdead. After some time, reviving, he kissed the soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what course to take. At a short distance heperceived a wood, to which he turned his steps. There, finding acovert sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun andthe rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed a bed, on whichhe stretched himself, and heaping the leaves over him, fellasleep. 

The land where he was thrown was Scheria, the country of thePhaeacians. These people dwelt originally near the Cyclopes; butbeing oppressed by that savage race, they migrated to the isle ofScheria, under the conduct of Nausithous, their king. They were, the poet tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appearedmanifestly and feasted among them when they offered sacrifices, and did not conceal themselves from solitary wayfarers when theymet them. They had abundance of wealth and lived in the enjoymentof it undisturbed by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remotefrom gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their shores, andthey did not even require to make use of bows and quivers. Theirchief employment was navigation. Their ships, which went with thevelocity of birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew everyport and needed no pilot. Alcinous, the son of Nausithous, was nowtheir king, a wise and just sovereign, beloved by his people. 

Now it happened that the very night on which Ulysses was castashore on the Phaeacian island, and while he lay sleeping on hisbed of leaves, Nausicaa, the daughter of the king, had a dreamsent by Minerva, reminding her that her wedding-day was not fardistant, and that it would be but a prudent preparation for thatevent to have a general washing of the clothes of the family. Thiswas no slight affair, for the fountains were at some distance, andthe garments must be carried thither. On awaking, the princesshastened to her parents to tell them what was on her mind; notalluding to her wedding-day, but finding other reasons equallygood. Her father readily assented and ordered the grooms tofurnish forth a wagon for the purpose. The clothes were puttherein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon, likewise, anabundant supply of food and wine. The princess took her seat andplied the lash, her attendant virgins following her on foot. Arrived at the river side, they turned out the mules to graze, andunlading the carriage, bore the garments down to the water, andworking with cheerfulness and alacrity soon despatched theirlabor. Then having spread the garments on the shore to dry, andhaving themselves bathed, they sat down to enjoy their meal; afterwhich they rose and amused themselves with a game of ball, theprincess singing to them while they played. But when they hadrefolded the apparel and were about to resume their way to thetown, Minerva caused the ball thrown by the princess to fall intothe water, whereat they all screamed and Ulysses awaked at thesound. 

Now we must picture to ourselves Ulysses, a ship-wrecked mariner, but a few hours escaped from the waves, and utterly destitute ofclothing, awaking and discovering that only a few bushes wereinterposed tween him and a group of young maidens whom, by theirdeportment and attire, he discovered to be not mere peasant girls, but of a higher class. Sadly needing help, how could he yetventure, naked as he was, to discover himself and make his wantsknown? It certainly was a case worthy of the interposition of hispatron goddess Minerva, who never failed him at a crisis. Breakingoff a leafy branch from a tree, he held it before him and steppedout from the thicket. The virgins at sight of him fled in alldirections, Nausicaa alone excepted, for HER Minerva aided andendowed with courage and discernment. Ulysses, standingrespectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the fairobject (whether queen or goddess he professed he knew not) forfood and clothing. The princess replied courteously, promisingpresent relief and her father's hospitality when he should becomeacquainted with the facts. She called back her scattered maidens, chiding their alarm, and reminding them that the Phaeacians had noenemies to fear. This man, she told them, was an unhappy wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for the poor and stranger are fromJove. She bade them bring food and clothing, for some of herbrother's garments were among the contents of the wagon. When thiswas done, and Ulysses, retiring to a sheltered place, had washedhis body free from the sea-foam, clothed and refreshed himselfwith food, Pallas dilated his form and diffused grace over hisample chest and manly brows. 

The princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration, and scruplednot to say to her damsels that she wished the gods would send hersuch a husband. To Ulysses she recommended that he should repairto the city, following herself and train so far as the way laythrough the fields; but when they should approach the city shedesired that he would no longer be seen in her company, for shefeared the remarks which rude and vulgar people might make onseeing her return accompanied by such a gallant stranger. To avoidwhich she directed him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, inwhich were a farm and garden belonging to the king. After allowingtime for the princess and her companions to reach the city, he wasthen to pursue his way thither, and would be easily guided by anyhe might meet to the royal abode. 

Ulysses obeyed the directions and in due time proceeded to thecity, on approaching which he met a young woman bearing a pitcherforth for water. It was Minerva, who had assumed that form. Ulysses accosted her and desired to be directed to the palace ofAlcinous the king. The maiden replied respectfully, offering to behis guide; for the palace, she informed him, stood near herfather's dwelling. Under the guidance of the goddess, and by herpower enveloped in a cloud which shielded him from observation, Ulysses passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder observedtheir harbor, their ships, their forum (the resort of heroes), andtheir battlements, till they came to the palace, where thegoddess, having first given him some information of the country, king, and people he was about to meet, left him. Ulysses, beforeentering the courtyard of the palace, stood and surveyed thescene. Its splendor astonished him. Brazen walls stretched fromthe entrance to the interior house, of which the doors were gold, the doorposts silver, the lintels silver ornamented with gold. Oneither side were figures of mastiffs wrought in gold and silver, standing in rows as if to guard the approach. Along the walls wereseats spread through all their length with mantles of finesttexture, the work of Phaeacian maidens. On these seats the princessat and feasted, while golden statues of graceful youths held intheir hands lighted torches which shed radiance over the scene. Full fifty female menials served in household offices, someemployed to grind the corn, others to wind off the purple wool orply the loom. For the Phaeacian women as far exceeded all otherwomen in household arts as the mariners of that country did therest of mankind in the management of ships. Without the court aspacious garden lay, four acres in extent. In it grew many a loftytree, pomegranate, pear, apple, fig, and olive. Neither winter'scold nor summer's drought arrested their growth, but theyflourished in constant succession, some budding while others werematuring. The vineyard was equally prolific. In one quarter youmight see the vines, some in blossom, some loaded with ripegrapes, and in another observe the vintagers treading the winepress. On the garden's borders flowers of all hues bloomed all theyear round, arranged with neatest art. In the midst two fountainspoured forth their waters, one flowing by artificial channels overall the garden, the other conducted through the courtyard of thepalace, whence every citizen might draw his supplies. 

Ulysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved himself, for thecloud which Minerva spread around him still shielded him. Atlength, having sufficiently observed the scene, he advanced withrapid step into the hall where the chiefs and senators wereassembled, pouring libation to Mercury, whose worship followed theevening meal. Just then Minerva dissolved the cloud and disclosedhim to the assembled chiefs. Advancing to the place where thequeen sat, he knelt at her feet and implored her favor andassistance to enable him to return to his native country. Thenwithdrawing, he seated himself in the manner of suppliants, at thehearth side. 

For a time none spoke. At last an aged statesman, addressing theking, said, "It is not fit that a stranger who asks ourhospitality should be kept waiting in suppliant guise, nonewelcoming him. Let him therefore be led to a seat among us andsupplied with food and wine. " At these words the king rising gavehis hand to Ulysses and led him to a seat, displacing thence hisown son to make room for the stranger. Food and wine were setbefore him and he ate and refreshed himself. 

The king then dismissed his guests, notifying them that the nextday he would call them to council to consider what had best bedone for the stranger. 

When the guests had departed and Ulysses was left alone with theking and queen, the queen asked him who he was and whence he came, and (recognizing the clothes which he wore as those which hermaidens and herself had made) from whom he received thosegarments. He told them of his residence in Calypso's isle and hisdeparture thence; of the wreck of his raft, his escape byswimming, and of the relief afforded by the princess. The parentsheard approvingly, and the king promised to furnish a ship inwhich his guest might return to his own land. 

The next day the assembled chiefs confirmed the promise of theking. A bark was prepared and a crew of stout rowers selected, andall betook themselves to the palace, where a bounteous repast wasprovided. After the feast the king proposed that the young menshould show their guest their proficiency in manly sports, and allwent forth to the arena for games of running, wrestling, and otherexercises. After all had done their best, Ulysses being challengedto show what he could do, at first declined, but being taunted byone of the youths, seized a quoit of weight far heavier than anyof the Phaeacians had thrown, and sent it farther than the utmostthrow of theirs. All were astonished, and viewed their guest withgreatly increased respect. 

After the games they returned to the hall, and the herald led inDemodocus, the blind bard, --

 "... Dear to the Muse, Who yet appointed him both good and ill, Took from him sight, but gave him strains divine. "

He took for his theme the "Wooden Horse, " by means of which theGreeks found entrance into Troy. Apollo inspired him, and he sangso feelingly the terrors and the exploits of that eventful timethat all were delighted, but Ulysses was moved to tears. Observingwhich, Alcinous, when the song was done, demanded of him why atthe mention of Troy his sorrows awaked. Had he lost there afather, or brother, or any dear friend? Ulysses replied byannouncing himself by his true name, and at their request, recounted the adventures which had befallen him since hisdeparture from Troy. This narrative raised the sympathy andadmiration of the Phaeacians for their guest to the highest pitch. The king proposed that all the chiefs should present him with agift, himself setting the example. They obeyed, and vied with oneanother in loading the illustrious stranger with costly gifts. 

The next day Ulysses set sail in the Phaeacian vessel, and in ashort time arrived safe at Ithaca, his own island. When the vesseltouched the strand he was asleep. The mariners, without wakinghim, carried him on shore, and landed with him the chestcontaining his presents, and then sailed away. 

Neptune was so displeased at the conduct of the Phaeacians in thusrescuing Ulysses from his hands that on the return of the vesselto port he transformed it into a rock, right opposite the mouth ofthe harbor. 

Homer's description of the ships of the Phaeacians has beenthought to look like an anticipation of the wonders of modernsteam navigation. Alcinous says to Ulysses:

 "Say from what city, from what regions tossed, And what inhabitants those regions boast? So shalt thou quickly reach the realm assigned, In wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind; No helm secures their course, no pilot guides; Like man intelligent they plough the tides, Conscious of every coast and every bay That lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray. "

 --Odyssey, Book VIII. 

Lord Carlisle, in his "Diary in the Turkish and Greek Waters, "thus speaks of Corfu, which he considers to be the ancientPhaeacian island:

"The sites explain the 'Odyssey. ' The temple of the sea-god couldnot have been more fitly placed, upon a grassy platform of themost elastic turf, on the brow of a crag commanding harbor, andchannel, and ocean. Just at the entrance of the inner harbor thereis a picturesque rock with a small convent perched upon it, whichby one legend is the transformed pinnace of Ulysses. 

"Almost the only river in the island is just at the properdistance from the probable site of the city and palace of theking, to justify the princess Nausicaa having had resort to herchariot and to luncheon when she went with the maidens of thecourt to wash their garments. "

FATE OF THE SUITORS

Ulysses had now been away from Ithaca for twenty years, and whenhe awoke he did not recognize his native land. Minerva appeared tohim in the form of a young shepherd, informed him where he was, and told him the state of things at his palace. More than ahundred nobles of Ithaca and of the neighboring islands had beenfor years suing for the hand of Penelope, his wife, imagining himdead, and lording it over his palace and people, as if they wereowners of both. That he might be able to take vengeance upon them, it was important that he should not be recognized. Minervaaccordingly metamorphosed him into an unsightly beggar, and assuch he was kindly received by Eumaeus, the swine-herd, a faithfulservant of his house. 

Telemachus, his son, was absent in quest of his father. He hadgone to the courts of the other kings, who had returned from theTrojan expedition. While on the search, he received counsel fromMinerva to return home. He arrived and sought Eumaeus to learnsomething of the state of affairs at the palace before presentinghimself among the suitors. Finding a stranger with Eumaeus, hetreated him courteously, though in the garb of a beggar, andpromised him assistance. Eumaeus was sent to the palace to informPenelope privately of her son's arrival, for caution was necessarywith regard to the suitors, who, as Telemachus had learned, wereplotting to intercept and kill him. When Eumaeus was gone, Minervapresented herself to Ulysses, and directed him to make himselfknown to his son. At the same time she touched him, removed atonce from him the appearance of age and penury, and gave him theaspect of vigorous manhood that belonged to him. Telemachus viewedhim with astonishment, and at first thought he must be more thanmortal. But Ulysses announced himself as his father, and accountedfor the change of appearance by explaining that it was Minerva'sdoing. 

 "... Then threw Telemachus His arms around his father's neck and wept. Desire intense of lamentation seized On both; soft murmurs uttering, each indulged His grief. "

The father and son took counsel together how they should get thebetter of the suitors and punish them for their outrages. It wasarranged that Telemachus should proceed to the palace and minglewith the suitors as formerly; that Ulysses should also go as abeggar, a character which in the rude old times had differentprivileges from what we concede to it now. As traveller andstoryteller, the beggar was admitted in the halls of chieftains, and often treated like a guest; though sometimes, also, no doubt, with contumely. Ulysses charged his son not to betray, by anydisplay of unusual interest in him, that he knew him to be otherthan he seemed, and even if he saw him insulted, or beaten, not tointerpose otherwise than he might do for any stranger. At thepalace they found the usual scene of feasting and riot going on. The suitors pretended to receive Telemachus with joy at hisreturn, though secretly mortified at the failure of their plots totake his life. The old beggar was permitted to enter, and providedwith a portion from the table. A touching incident occurred asUlysses entered the courtyard of the palace. An old dog lay in theyard almost dead with age, and seeing a stranger enter, raised hishead, with ears erect. It was Argus, Ulysses' own dog, that he hadin other days often led to the chase. 

 "... Soon as he perceived Long-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his ears Clapped close, and with his tail glad sign he gave Of gratulation, impotent to rise, And to approach his master as of old. Ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear Unmarked. ... Then his destiny released Old Argus, soon as he had lived to see Ulysses in the twentieth year restored. "

As Ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall, the suitors beganto exhibit their insolence to him. When he mildly remonstrated, one of them, raised a stool and with it gave him a blow. Telemachus had hard work to restrain his indignation at seeing hisfather so treated in his own hall, but remembering his father'sinjunctions, said no more than what became him as master of thehouse, though young, and protector of his guests. 

Penelope had protracted her decision in favor of either of hersuitors so long that there seemed to be no further pretence fordelay. The continued absence of her husband seemed to prove thathis return was no longer to be expected. Meanwhile, her son hadgrown up, and was able to manage his own affairs. She thereforeconsented to submit the question of her choice to a trial of skillamong the suitors. The test selected was shooting with the bow. Twelve rings were arranged in a line, and he whose arrow was sentthrough the whole twelve was to have the queen for his prize. Abow that one of his brother heroes had given to Ulysses in formertimes was brought from the armory, and with its quiver full ofarrows was laid in the hall. Telemachus had taken care that allother weapons should be removed, under pretence that in the heatof competition there was danger, in some rash moment, of puttingthem to an improper use. 

All things being prepared for the trial, the first thing to bedone was to bend the bow in order to attach the string. Telemachusendeavored to do it, but found all his efforts fruitless; andmodestly confessing that he had attempted a task beyond hisstrength, he yielded the bow to another. He tried it with nobetter success, and, amidst the laughter and jeers of hiscompanions, gave it up. Another tried it and another; they rubbedthe bow with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not bend. Then spoke Ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should be permittedto try; for, said he, "beggar as I am, I was once a soldier, andthere is still some strength in these old limbs of mine. " Thesuitors hooted with derision, and commanded to turn him out of thehall for his insolence. But Telemachus spoke up for him, and, merely to gratify the old man, bade him try. Ulysses took the bow, and handled it with the hand of a master. With ease he adjustedthe cord to its notch, then fitting an arrow to the bow he drewthe string and sped the arrow unerring through the rings. 

Without allowing them time to express their astonishment, he said, "Now for another mark!" and aimed direct at the most insolent oneof the suitors. The arrow pierced through his throat and he felldead. Telemachus, Eumaeus, and another faithful follower, wellarmed, now sprang to the side of Ulysses. The suitors, inamazement, looked round for arms, but found none, neither wasthere any way of escape, for Eumaeus had secured the door. Ulyssesleft them not long in uncertainty; he announced himself as thelong-lost chief, whose house they had invaded, whose substancethey had squandered, whose wife and son they had persecuted forten long years; and told them he meant to have ample vengeance. All were slain, and Ulysses was left master of his palace andpossessor of his kingdom and his wife. 

Tennyson's poem of "Ulysses" represents the old hero, after hisdangers past and nothing left but to stay at home and be happy, growing tired of inaction and resolving to set forth again inquest of new adventures. 

 "... Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles whom we knew;" etc. 

CHAPTER XXXI

ADVENTURES OF AENEAS--THE HARPIES--DIDO--PALINURUS

ADVENTURES OF AENEAS

We have followed one of the Grecian heroes, Ulysses, in hiswanderings on his return home from Troy, and now we propose toshare the fortunes of the remnant of the conquered people, undertheir chief Aeneas, in their search for a new home, after the ruinof their native city. On that fatal night when the wooden horsedisgorged its contents of armed men, and the capture andconflagration of the city were the result, Aeneas made his escapefrom the scene of destruction, with his father, and his wife, andyoung son. The father, Anchises, was too old to walk with thespeed required, and Aeneas took him upon his shoulders. Thusburdened, leading his son and followed by his wife, he made thebest of his way out of the burning city; but, in the confusion, his wife was swept away and lost. 

On arriving at the place of rendezvous, numerous fugitives, ofboth sexes, were found, who put themselves under the guidance ofAeneas. Some months were spent in preparation, and at length theyembarked. They first landed on the neighboring shores of Thrace, and were preparing to build a city, but Aeneas was deterred by aprodigy. Preparing to offer sacrifice, he tore some twigs from oneof the bushes. To his dismay the wounded part dropped blood. Whenhe repeated the act a voice from the ground cried out to him, "Spare me, Aeneas; I am your kinsman, Polydore, here murdered withmany arrows, from which a bush has grown, nourished with myblood. " These words recalled to the recollection of Aeneas thatPolydore was a young prince of Troy, whom his father had sent withample treasures to the neighboring land of Thrace, to be therebrought up, at a distance from the horrors of war. The king towhom he was sent had murdered him and seized his treasures. Aeneasand his companions, considering the land accursed by the stain ofsuch a crime, hastened away. 

They next landed on the island of Delos, which was once a floatingisland, till Jupiter fastened it by adamantine chains to thebottom of the sea. Apollo and Diana were born there, and theisland was sacred to Apollo. Here Aeneas consulted the oracle ofApollo, and received an answer, ambiguous as usual, --"Seek yourancient mother; there the race of Aeneas shall dwell, and reduceall other nations to their sway. " The Trojans heard with joy andimmediately began to ask one another, "Where is the spot intendedby the oracle?" Anchises remembered that there was a traditionthat their forefathers came from Crete and thither they resolvedto steer. They arrived at Crete and began to build their city, butsickness broke out among them, and the fields that they hadplanted failed to yield a crop. In this gloomy aspect of affairsAeneas was warned in a dream to leave the country and seek awestern land, called Hesperia, whence Dardanus, the true founderof the Trojan race, had originally migrated. To Hesperia, nowcalled Italy, therefore, they directed their future course, andnot till after many adventures and the lapse of time sufficient tocarry a modern navigator several times round the world, did theyarrive there. 

Their first landing was at the island of the Harpies. These weredisgusting birds with the heads of maidens, with long claws andfaces pale with hunger. They were sent by the gods to torment acertain Phineus, whom Jupiter had deprived of his sight, inpunishment of his cruelty; and whenever a meal was placed beforehim the Harpies darted down from the air and carried it off. Theywere driven away from Phineus by the heroes of the Argonauticexpedition, and took refuge in the island where Aeneas now foundthem. 

When they entered the port the Trojans saw herds of cattle roamingover the plain. They slew as many as they wished and prepared fora feast. But no sooner had they seated themselves at the tablethan a horrible clamor was heard in the air, and a flock of theseodious harpies came rushing down upon them, seizing in theirtalons the meat from the dishes and flying away with it. Aeneasand his companions drew their swords and dealt vigorous blowsamong the monsters, but to no purpose, for they were so nimble itwas almost impossible to hit them, and their feathers were likearmor impenetrable to steel. One of them, perched on a neighboringcliff, screamed out, "Is it thus, Trojans, you treat us innocentbirds, first slaughter our cattle and then make war on ourselves?"She then predicted dire sufferings to them in their future course, and having vented her wrath flew away. The Trojans made haste toleave the country, and next found themselves coasting along theshore of Epirus. Here they landed, and to their astonishmentlearned that certain Trojan exiles, who had been carried there asprisoners, had become rulers of the country. Andromache, the widowof Hector, became the wife of one of the victorious Grecianchiefs, to whom she bore a son. Her husband dying, she was leftregent of the country, as guardian of her son, and had married afellow-captive, Helenus, of the royal race of Troy. Helenus andAndromache treated the exiles with the utmost hospitality, anddismissed them loaded with gifts. 

From hence Aeneas coasted along the shore of Sicily and passed thecountry of the Cyclopes. Here they were hailed from the shore by amiserable object, whom by his garments, tattered as they were, they perceived to be a Greek. He told them he was one of Ulysses'scompanions, left behind by that chief in his hurried departure. Herelated the story of Ulysses's adventure with Polyphemus, andbesought them to take him off with them as he had no means ofsustaining his existence where he was but wild berries and roots, and lived in constant fear of the Cyclopes. While he spokePolyphemus made his appearance; a terrible monster, shapeless, vast, whose only eye had been put out. [Footnote: See ProverbialExpressions. ] He walked with cautious steps, feeling his way witha staff, down to the sea-side, to wash his eye-socket in thewaves. When he reached the water, he waded out towards them, andhis immense height enabled him to advance far into the sea, sothat the Trojans, in terror, took to their oars to get out of hisway. Hearing the oars, Polyphemus shouted after them, so that theshores resounded, and at the noise the other Cyclopes came forthfrom their caves and woods and lined the shore, like a row oflofty pine trees. The Trojans plied their oars and soon left themout of sight. 

Aeneas had been cautioned by Helenus to avoid the strait guardedby the monsters Scylla and Charybdis. There Ulysses, the readerwill remember, had lost six of his men, seized by Scylla while thenavigators were wholly intent upon avoiding Charybdis. Aeneas, following the advice of Helenus, shunned the dangerous pass andcoasted along the island of Sicily. 

Juno, seeing the Trojans speeding their way prosperously towardstheir destined shore, felt her old grudge against them revive, forshe could not forget the slight that Paris had put upon her, inawarding the prize of beauty to another. In heavenly minds cansuch resentments dwell. [Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions. ]Accordingly she hastened to Aeolus, the ruler of the winds, --thesame who supplied Ulysses with favoring gales, giving him thecontrary ones tied up in a bag. Aeolus obeyed the goddess and sentforth his sons, Boreas, Typhon, and the other winds, to toss theocean. A terrible storm ensued and the Trojan ships were drivenout of their course towards the coast of Africa. They were inimminent danger of being wrecked, and were separated, so thatAeneas thought that all were lost except his own. 

At this crisis, Neptune, hearing the storm raging, and knowingthat he had given no orders for one, raised his head above thewaves, and saw the fleet of Aeneas driving before the gale. Knowing the hostility of Juno, he was at no loss to account forit, but his anger was not the less at this interference in hisprovince. He called the winds and dismissed them with a severereprimand. He then soothed the waves, and brushed away the cloudsfrom before the face of the sun. Some of the ships which had goton the rocks he pried off with his own trident, while Triton and asea-nymph, putting their shoulders under others, set them afloatagain. The Trojans, when the sea became calm, sought the nearestshore, which was the coast of Carthage, where Aeneas was so happyas to find that one by one the ships all arrived safe, thoughbadly shaken. 

Waller, in his "Panegyric to the Lord Protector" (Cromwell), alludes to this stilling of the storm by Neptune:

 "Above the waves, as Neptune showed his face, To chide the winds and save the Trojan race, So has your Highness, raised above the rest, Storms of ambition tossing us repressed. "

DIDO

Carthage, where the exiles had now arrived, was a spot on thecoast of Africa opposite Sicily, where at that time a Tyriancolony under Dido, their queen, were laying the foundations of astate destined in later ages to be the rival of Rome itself. Didowas the daughter of Belus, king of Tyre, and sister of Pygmalion, who succeeded his father on the throne. Her husband was Sichaeus, a man of immense wealth, but Pygmalion, who coveted his treasures, caused him to be put to death. Dido, with a numerous body offriends and followers, both men and women, succeeded in effectingtheir escape from Tyre, in several vessels, carrying with them thetreasures of Sichaeus. On arriving at the spot which they selectedas the seat of their future home, they asked of the natives onlyso much land as they could enclose with a bull's hide. When thiswas readily granted, she caused the hide to be cut into strips, and with them enclosed a spot on which she built a citadel, andcalled it Byrsa (a hide). Around this fort the city of Carthagerose, and soon became a powerful and flourishing place. 

Such was the state of affairs when Aeneas with his Trojans arrivedthere. Dido received the illustrious exiles with friendliness andhospitality. "Not unacquainted with distress, " she said, "I havelearned to succor the unfortunate. " [Footnote: See ProverbialExpressions. ] The queen's hospitality displayed itself infestivities at which games of strength and skill were exhibited. The strangers contended for the palm with her own subjects, onequal terms, the queen declaring that whether the victor were"Trojan or Tyrian should make no difference to her. " [Footnote 1:See Proverbial Expressions. ] At the feast which followed thegames, Aeneas gave at her request a recital of the closing eventsof the Trojan history and his own adventures after the fall of thecity. Dido was charmed with his discourse and filled withadmiration of his exploits. She conceived an ardent passion forhim, and he for his part seemed well content to accept thefortunate chance which appeared to offer him at once a happytermination of his wanderings, a home, a kingdom, and a bride. Months rolled away in the enjoyment of pleasant intercourse, andit seemed as if Italy and the empire destined to be founded on itsshores were alike forgotten. Seeing which, Jupiter despatchedMercury with a message to Aeneas recalling him to a sense of hishigh destiny, and commanding him to resume his voyage. 

Aeneas parted from Dido, though she tried every allurement andpersuasion to detain him. The blow to her affection and her pridewas too much for her to endure, and when she found that he wasgone, she mounted a funeral pile which she had caused to beerected, and having stabbed herself was consumed with the pile. The flames rising over the city were seen by the departingTrojans, and, though the cause was unknown, gave to Aeneas someintimation of the fatal event. 

The following epigram we find in "Elegant Extracts":

FROM THE LATIN

 "Unhappy, Dido, was thy fate In first and second married state! One husband caused thy flight by dying, Thy death the other caused by flying"

PALINURUS

After touching at the island of Sicily, where Acestes, a prince ofTrojan lineage, bore sway, who gave them a hospitable reception, the Trojans re-embarked, and held on their course for Italy. Venusnow interceded with Neptune to allow her son at last to attain thewished-for goal and find an end of his perils on the deep. Neptuneconsented, stipulating only for one life as a ransom for the rest. The victim was Palinurus, the pilot. As he sat watching the stars, with his hand on the helm, Somnus sent by Neptune approached inthe guise of Phorbas and said: "Palinurus, the breeze is fair, thewater smooth, and the ship sails steadily on her course. Lie downawhile and take needful rest. I will stand at the helm in yourplace. " Palinurus replied, "Tell me not of smooth seas or favoringwinds, --me who have seen so much of their treachery. Shall Itrust Aeneas to the chances of the weather and the winds?" And hecontinued to grasp the helm and to keep his eyes fixed on thestars. But Somnus waved over him a branch moistened with Lethaeandew, and his eyes closed in spite of all his efforts. Then Somnuspushed him overboard and he fell; but keeping his hold upon thehelm, it came away with him. Neptune was mindful of his promiseand kept the ship on her track without helm or pilot, till Aeneasdiscovered his loss, and, sorrowing deeply for his faithfulsteersman, took charge of the ship himself. 

There is a beautiful allusion to the story of Palinurus in Scott's"Marmion, " Introduction to Canto I. , where the poet, speaking ofthe recent death of William Pitt, says:

 "O, think how, to his latest day, When death just hovering claimed his prey, With Palinure's unaltered mood, Firm at his dangerous post he stood; Each call for needful rest repelled, With dying hand the rudder held, Till in his fall, with fateful sway, The steerage of the realm gave way. "

The ships at last reached the shores of Italy, and joyfully didthe adventurers leap to land. While his people were employed inmaking their encampment Aeneas sought the abode of the Sibyl. Itwas a cave connected with a temple and grove, sacred to Apollo andDiana. While Aeneas contemplated the scene, the Sibyl accostedhim. She seemed to know his errand, and under the influence of thedeity of the place, burst forth in a prophetic strain, giving darkintimations of labors and perils through which he was destined tomake his way to final success. She closed with the encouragingwords which have become proverbial: "Yield not to disasters, butpress onward the more bravely. " [Footnote: See ProverbialExpressions. ] Aeneas replied that he had prepared himself forwhatever might await him. He had but one request to make. Havingbeen directed in a dream to seek the abode of the dead in order toconfer with his father, Anchises, to receive from him a revelationof his future fortunes and those of his race, he asked herassistance to enable him to accomplish the task. The Sibylreplied, "The descent to Avernus is easy: the gate of Pluto standsopen night and day; but to retrace one's steps and return to theupper air, that is the toil, that the difficulty. "[Footnote: SeeProverbial Expressions. ] She instructed him to seek in the foresta tree on which grew a golden branch. This branch was to beplucked off and borne as a gift to Proserpine, and if fate waspropitious it would yield to the hand and quit its parent trunk, but otherwise no force could rend it away. If torn away, anotherwould succeed. [Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions. ]

Aeneas followed the directions of the Sibyl. His mother, Venus, sent two of her doves to fly before him and show him the way, andby their assistance he found the tree, plucked the branch, andhastened back with it to the Sibyl. 

CHAPTER XXXII

THE INFERNAL REGIONS--THE SIBYL

THE INFERNAL REGIONS

As at the commencement of our series we have given the paganaccount of the creation of the world, so as we approach itsconclusion we present a view of the regions of the dead, depictedby one of their most enlightened poets, who drew his doctrinesfrom their most esteemed philosophers. The region where Virgillocates the entrance to this abode is perhaps the most strikinglyadapted to excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural of anyon the face of the earth. It is the volcanic region near Vesuvius, where the whole country is cleft with chasms, from whichsulphurous flames arise, while the ground is shaken with pent-upvapors, and mysterious sounds issue from the bowels of the earth. The lake Avernus is supposed to fill the crater of an extinctvolcano. It is circular, half a mile wide, and very deep, surrounded by high banks, which in Virgil's time were covered witha gloomy forest. Mephitic vapors rise from its waters, so that nolife is found on its banks, and no birds fly over it. Here, according to the poet, was the cave which afforded access to theinfernal regions, and here Aeneas offered sacrifices to theinfernal deities, Proserpine, Hecate, and the Furies. Then aroaring was heard in the earth, the woods on the hill-tops wereshaken, and the howling of dogs announced the approach of thedeities. "Now, " said the Sibyl, "summon up your courage, for youwill need it. " She descended into the cave, and Aeneas followed. Before the threshold of hell they passed through a group of beingswho are enumerated as Griefs and avenging Cares, pale Diseases andmelancholy Age, Fear and Hunger that tempt to crime, Toil, Poverty, and Death, --forms horrible to view. The Furies spreadtheir couches there, and Discord, whose hair was of vipers tied upwith a bloody fillet. Here also were the monsters, Briareus, withhis hundred arms, Hydras hissing, and Chimaeras breathing fire. Aeneas shuddered at the sight, drew his sword and would havestruck, but the Sibyl restrained him. They then came to the blackriver Cocytus, where they found the ferryman, Charon, old andsqualid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving passengers ofall kinds into his boat, magnanimous heroes, boys and unmarriedgirls, as numerous as the leaves that fall at autumn, or theflocks that fly southward at the approach of winter. They stoodpressing for a passage and longing to touch the opposite shore. But the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose, driving therest back. Aeneas, wondering at the sight, asked the Sibyl, "Whythis discrimination?" She answered, "Those who are taken on boardthe bark are the souls of those who have received due burialrites; the host of others who have remained unburied are notpermitted to pass the flood, but wander a hundred years, and flitto and fro about the shore, till at last they are taken over. "Aeneas grieved at recollecting some of his own companions who hadperished in the storm. At that moment he beheld Palinurus, hispilot, who fell overboard and was drowned. He addressed him andasked him the cause of his misfortune. Palinurus replied that therudder was carried away, and he, clinging to it, was swept awaywith it. He besought Aeneas most urgently to extend to him hishand and take him in company to the opposite shore. But the Sibylrebuked him for the wish thus to transgress the laws of Pluto; butconsoled him by informing him that the people of the shore wherehis body had been wafted by the waves should be stirred up byprodigies to give it due burial, and that the promontory shouldbear the name of Cape Palinurus, which it does to this day. Leaving Palinurus consoled by these words, they approached theboat. Charon, fixing his eyes sternly upon the advancing warrior, demanded by what right he, living and armed, approached thatshore. To which the Sibyl replied that they would commit noviolence, that Aeneas's only object was to see his father, andfinally exhibited the golden branch, at sight of which Charon'swrath relaxed, and he made haste to turn his bark to the shore, and receive them on board. The boat, adapted only to the lightfreight of bodiless spirits, groaned under the weight of the hero. They were soon conveyed to the opposite shore. There they wereencountered by the three-headed dog, Cerberus, with his necksbristling with snakes. He barked with all his three throats tillthe Sibyl threw him a medicated cake which he eagerly devoured, and then stretched himself out in his den and fell asleep. Aeneasand the Sibyl sprang to land. The first sound that struck theirears was the wailing of young children, who had died on thethreshold of life, and near to these were they who had perishedunder false charges. Minos presides over them as judge, andexamines the deeds of each. The next class was of those who haddied by their own hand, hating life and seeking refuge in death. Ohow willingly would they now endure poverty, labor, and any otherinfliction, if they might but return to life! Next were situatedthe regions of sadness, divided off into retired paths, leadingthrough groves of myrtle. Here roamed those who had fallen victimsto unrequited love, not freed from pain even by death itself. Among these, Aeneas thought he descried the form of Dido, with awound still recent. In the dim light he was for a momentuncertain, but approaching, perceived it was indeed herself. Tearsfell from his eyes, and he addressed her in the accents of love. "Unhappy Dido! was then the rumor true that you had perished? andwas I, alas! the cause? I call the gods to witness that mydeparture from you was reluctant, and in obedience to the commandsof Jove; nor could I believe that my absence would cost you sodear. Stop, I beseech you, and refuse me not a last farewell. " Shestood for a moment with averted countenance, and eyes fixed on theground, and then silently passed on, as insensible to hispleadings as a rock. Aeneas followed for some distance; then, witha heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his route. 

They next entered the fields where roam the heroes who have fallenin battle. Here they saw many shades of Grecian and Trojanwarriors. The Trojans thronged around him, and could not besatisfied with the sight. They asked the cause of his coming, andplied him with innumerable questions. But the Greeks, at the sightof his armor glittering through the murky atmosphere, recognizedthe hero, and filled with terror turned their backs and fled, asthey used to do on the plains of Troy. 

Aeneas would have lingered long with his Trojan friends, but theSibyl hurried him away. They next came to a place where the roaddivided, the one leading to Elysium, the other to the regions ofthe condemned. Aeneas beheld on one side the walls of a mightycity, around which Phlegethon rolled its fiery waters. Before himwas the gate of adamant that neither gods nor men can breakthrough. An iron tower stood by the gate, on which Tisiphone, theavenging Fury, kept guard. From the city were heard groans, andthe sound of the scourge, the creaking of iron, and the clankingof chains. Aeneas, horror-struck, inquired of his guide whatcrimes were those whose punishments produced the sounds he heard?The Sibyl answered, "Here is the judgment hall of Rhadamanthus, who brings to light crimes done in life, which the perpetratorvainly thought impenetrably hid. Tisiphone applies her whip ofscorpions, and delivers the offender over to her sister Furies. "At this moment with horrid clang the brazen gates unfolded, andAeneas saw within a Hydra with fifty heads guarding the entrance. The Sibyl told him that the gulf of Tartarus descended deep, sothat its recesses were as far beneath their feet as heaven washigh above their heads. In the bottom of this pit, the Titan race, who warred against the gods, lie prostrate; Salmoneus, also, whopresumed to vie with Jupiter, and built a bridge of brass overwhich he drove his chariot that the sound might resemble thunder, launching flaming brands at his people in imitation of lightning, till Jupiter struck him with a real thunderbolt, and taught himthe difference between mortal weapons and divine. Here, also, isTityus, the giant, whose form is so immense that as he lies hestretches over nine acres, while a vulture preys upon his liver, which as fast as it is devoured grows again, so that hispunishment will have no end. 

Aeneas saw groups seated at tables loaded with dainties, whilenear by stood a Fury who snatched away the viands from their lipsas fast as they prepared to taste them. Others beheld suspendedover their heads huge rocks, threatening to fall, keeping them ina state of constant alarm. These were they who had hated theirbrothers, or struck their parents, or defrauded the friends whotrusted them, or who, having grown rich, kept their money tothemselves, and gave no share to others; the last being the mostnumerous class. Here also were those who had violated the marriagevow, or fought in a bad cause, or failed in fidelity to theiremployers. Here was one who had sold his country for gold, anotherwho perverted the laws, making them say one thing to-day andanother to-morrow. 

Ixion was there, fastened to the circumference of a wheelceaselessly revolving; and Sisyphus, whose task was to roll a hugestone up to a hill-top, but when the steep was well-nigh gained, the rock, repulsed by some sudden force, rushed again headlongdown to the plain. Again he toiled at it, while the sweat bathedall his weary limbs, but all to no effect. There was Tantalus, whostood in a pool, his chin level with the water, yet he was parchedwith thirst, and found nothing to assuage it; for when he bowedhis hoary head, eager to quaff, the water fled away, leaving theground at his feet all dry. Tall trees laden with fruit stoopedtheir heads to him, pears, pomegranates, apples, and lusciousfigs; but when with a sudden grasp he tried to seize them windswhirled them high above his reach. 

The Sibyl now warned Aeneas that it was time to turn from thesemelancholy regions and seek the city of the blessed. They passedthrough a middle tract of darkness, and came upon the Elysianfields, the groves where the happy reside. They breathed a freerair, and saw all objects clothed in a purple light. The region hasa sun and stars of its own. The inhabitants were enjoyingthemselves in various ways, some in sports on the grassy turf, ingames of strength or skill. Others dancing or singing. Orpheusstruck the chords of his lyre, and called forth ravishing sounds. Here Aeneas saw the founders of the Trojan state, magnanimousheroes who lived in happier times. He gazed with admiration on thewar chariots and glittering arms now reposing in disuse. Spearsstood fixed in the ground, and the horses, unharnessed, roamedover the plain. The same pride in splendid armor and generoussteeds which the old heroes felt in life, accompanied them here. He saw another group feasting and listening to the strains ofmusic. They were in a laurel grove, whence the great river Po hasits origin, and flows out among men. Here dwelt those who fell bywounds received in their country's cause, holy priests also, andpoets who have uttered thoughts worthy of Apollo, and others whohave contributed to cheer and adorn life by their discoveries inthe useful arts, and have made their memory blessed by renderingservice to mankind. They wore snow-white fillets about theirbrows. The Sibyl addressed a group of these, and inquired whereAnchises was to be found. They were directed where to seek him, and soon found him in a verdant valley, where he was contemplatingthe ranks of his posterity, their destinies and worthy deeds to beachieved in coming times. When he recognized Aeneas approaching, he stretched out both hands to him, while tears flowed freely. "Have you come at last, " said he, "long expected, and do I beholdyou after such perils past? O my son, how have I trembled for youas I have watched your career!" To which Aeneas replied, "Ofather! your image was always before me to guide and guard me. "Then he endeavored to enfold his father in his embrace, but hisarms enclosed only an unsubstantial image. 

Aeneas perceived before him a spacious valley, with trees gentlywaving to the wind, a tranquil landscape, through which the riverLethe flowed. Along the banks of the stream wandered a countlessmultitude, numerous as insects in the summer air. Aeneas, withsurprise, inquired who were these. Anchises answered, "They aresouls to which bodies are to be given in due time. Meanwhile theydwell on Lethe's bank, and drink oblivion of their former lives. ""O father!" said Aeneas, "is it possible that any can be so inlove with life as to wish to leave these tranquil seats for theupper world?" Anchises replied by explaining the plan of creation. The Creator, he told him, originally made the material of whichsouls are composed of the four elements, fire, air, earth, andwater, all which when united took the form of the most excellentpart, fire, and became FLAME. This material was scattered likeseed among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and stars. Of thisseed the inferior gods created man and all other animals, minglingit with various proportions of earth, by which its purity wasalloyed and reduced. Thus, the more earth predominates in thecomposition the less pure is the individual; and we see men andwomen with their full-grown bodies have not the purity ofchildhood. So in proportion to the time which the union of bodyand soul has lasted is the impurity contracted by the spiritualpart. This impurity must be purged away after death, which is doneby ventilating the souls in the current of winds, or merging themin water, or burning out their impurities by fire. Some few, ofwhom Anchises intimates that he is one, are admitted at once toElysium, there to remain. But the rest, after the impurities ofearth are purged away, are sent back to life endowed with newbodies, having had the remembrance of their former liveseffectually washed away by the waters of Lethe. Some, however, there still are, so thoroughly corrupted, that they are not fit tobe intrusted with human bodies, and these are made into bruteanimals, lions, tigers, cats, dogs, monkeys, etc. This is what theancients called Metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls; adoctrine which is still held by the natives of India, who scrupleto destroy the life even of the most insignificant animal, notknowing but it may be one of their relations in an altered form. 

Anchises, having explained so much, proceeded to point out toAeneas individuals of his race, who were hereafter to be born, andto relate to him the exploits they should perform in the world. After this he reverted to the present, and told his son of theevents that remained to him to be accomplished before the completeestablishment of himself and his followers in Italy. Wars were tobe waged, battles fought, a bride to be won, and in the result aTrojan state founded, from which should rise the Roman power, tobe in time the sovereign of the world. 

Aeneas and the Sibyl then took leave of Anchises, and returned bysome short cut, which the poet does not explain, to the upperworld. 

ELYSIUM

Virgil, we have seen, places his Elysium under the earth, andassigns it for a residence to the spirits of the blessed. But inHomer Elysium forms no part of the realms of the dead. He placesit on the west of the earth, near Ocean, and describes it as ahappy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor rain, andalways fanned by the delightful breezes of Zephyrus. Hitherfavored heroes pass without dying and live happy under the rule ofRhadamanthus. The Elysium of Hesiod and Pindar is in the Isles ofthe Blessed, or Fortunate Islands, in the Western Ocean. Fromthese sprang the legend of the happy island Atlantis. Thisblissful region may have been wholly imaginary, but possibly mayhave sprung from the reports of some storm-driven mariners who hadcaught a glimpse of the coast of America. 

J. R. Lowell, in one of his shorter poems, claims for the presentage some of the privileges of that happy realm. Addressing thePast, he says:

 "Whatever of true life there was in thee, Leaps in our age's veins. 

 Here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care, Float the green 'Fortunate Isles, ' Where all thy hero-spirits dwell and share Our martyrdoms and toils. The present moves attended With all of brave and excellent and fair That made the old time splendid. "

Milton also alludes to the same fable in "Paradise Lost, " BookIII, 1. 568:

 "Like those Hesperian gardens famed of old, Fortunate fields and groves and flowery vales, Thrice happy isles. "

And in Book II. He characterizes the rivers of Erebus according tothe meaning of their names in the Greek language:

 "Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate, Sad Acheron of sorrow black and deep; Cocytus named of lamentation loud Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. Far off from these a slow and silent stream, Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks Forthwith his former state and being forgets, Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain. "

THE SIBYL

As Aeneas and the Sibyl pursued their way back to earth, he saidto her, "Whether thou be a goddess or a mortal beloved of thegods, by me thou shalt always be held in reverence. When I reachthe upper air I will cause a temple to be built to thy honor, andwill myself bring offerings. " "I am no goddess, " said the Sibyl;"I have no claim to sacrifice or offering. I am mortal; yet if Icould have accepted the love of Apollo I might have been immortal. He promised me the fulfilment of my wish, if I would consent to behis. I took a handful of sand, and holding it forth, said, 'Grantme to see as many birthdays as there are sand grains in my hand. 'Unluckily I forgot to ask for enduring youth. This also he wouldhave granted, could I have accepted his love, but offended at myrefusal, he allowed me to grow old. My youth and youthful strengthfled long ago. I have lived seven hundred years, and to equal thenumber of the sand grains I have still to see three hundredsprings and three hundred harvests. My body shrinks up as yearsincrease, and in time, I shall be lost to sight, but my voice willremain, and future ages will respect my sayings. "

These concluding words of the Sibyl alluded to her propheticpower. In her cave she was accustomed to inscribe on leavesgathered from the trees the names and fates of individuals. Theleaves thus inscribed were arranged in order within the cave, andmight be consulted by her votaries. But if perchance at theopening of the door the wind rushed in and dispersed the leavesthe Sibyl gave no aid to restoring them again, and the oracle wasirreparably lost. 

The following legend of the Sibyl is fixed at a later date. In thereign of one of the Tarquins there appeared before the king awoman who offered him nine books for sale. The king refused topurchase them, whereupon the woman went away and burned three ofthe books, and returning offered the remaining books for the sameprice she had asked for the nine. The king again rejected them;but when the woman, after burning three books more, returned andasked for the three remaining the same price which she had beforeasked for the nine, his curiosity was excited, and he purchasedthe books. They were found to contain the destinies of the Romanstate. They were kept in the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, preserved in a stone chest, and allowed to be inspected only byespecial officers appointed for that duty, who, on greatoccasions, consulted them and interpreted their oracles to thepeople. 

There were various Sibyls; but the Cumaean Sibyl, of whom Ovid andVirgil write, is the most celebrated of them. Ovid's story of herlife protracted to one thousand years may be intended to representthe various Sibyls as being only reappearances of one and the sameindividual. 

Young, in the "Night Thoughts, " alludes to the Sibyl. Speaking ofWorldly Wisdom, he says:

 "If future fate she plans 'tis all in leaves, Like Sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss; At the first blast it vanishes in air. 

 As worldly schemes resemble Sibyl's leaves, The good man's days to Sibyl's books compare, The price still rising as in number less. "

CHAPTER XXXIII

CAMILLA--EVANDER--NISUS AND EURYALUS--MEZENTIUS--TURNUS

Aeneas, having parted from the Sibyl and rejoined his fleet, coasted along the shores of Italy and cast anchor in the mouth ofthe Tiber. The poet, having brought his hero to this spot, thedestined termination of his wanderings, invokes his Muse to tellhim the situation of things at that eventful moment. Latinus, third in descent from Saturn, ruled the country. He was now oldand had no male descendant, but had one charming daughter, Lavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighboring chiefs, one of whom, Turnus, king of the Rutulians, was favored by thewishes of her parents. But Latinus had been warned in a dream byhis father Faunus, that the destined husband of Lavinia shouldcome from a foreign land. From that union should spring a racedestined to subdue the world. 

Our readers will remember that in the conflict with the Harpiesone of those half-human birds had threatened the Trojans with diresufferings. In particular she predicted that before theirwanderings ceased they should be pressed by hunger to devour theirtables. This portent now came true; for as they took their scantymeal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard biscuit ontheir laps, and put thereon whatever their gleanings in the woodssupplied. Having despatched the latter they finished by eating thecrusts. Seeing which, the boy Iulus said playfully, "See, we areeating our tables. " Aeneas caught the words and accepted the omen. "All hail, promised land!" he exclaimed, "this is our home, thisour country. " He then took measures to find out who were thepresent inhabitants of the land, and who their rulers. A hundredchosen men were sent to the village of Latinus, bearing presentsand a request for friendship and alliance. They went and werefavorably received. Latinus immediately concluded that the Trojanhero was no other than the promised son-in-law announced by theoracle. He cheerfully granted his alliance and sent back themessengers mounted on steeds from his stables, and loaded withgifts and friendly messages. 

Juno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the Trojans, felt herold animosity revive, summoned Alecto from Erebus, and sent her tostir up discord. The Fury first took possession of the queen, Amata, and roused her to oppose in every way the new alliance. Alecto then speeded to the city of Turnus, and assuming the formof an old priestess, informed him of the arrival of the foreignersand of the attempts of their prince to rob him of his bride. Nextshe turned her attention to the camp of the Trojans. There she sawthe boy Iulus and his companions amusing themselves with hunting. She sharpened the scent of the dogs, and led them to rouse up fromthe thicket a tame stag, the favorite of Silvia, the daughter ofTyrrheus, the king's herdsman. A javelin from the hand of Iuluswounded the animal, and he had only strength left to runhomewards, and died at his mistress's feet. Her cries and tearsroused her brothers and the herdsmen, and they, seizing whateverweapons came to hand, furiously assaulted the hunting party. Thesewere protected by their friends, and the herdsmen were finallydriven back with the loss of two of their number. 

These things were enough to rouse the storm of war, and the queen, Turnus, and the peasants all urged the old king to drive thestrangers from the country. He resisted as long as he could, but, finding his opposition unavailing, finally gave way and retreatedto his retirement. 

OPENING THE GATES OF JANUS

It was the custom of the country, when war was to be undertaken, for the chief magistrate, clad in his robes of office, with solemnpomp to open the gates of the temple of Janus, which were keptshut as long as peace endured. His people now urged the old kingto perform that solemn office, but he refused to do so. While theycontested, Juno herself, descending from the skies, smote thedoors with irresistible force, and burst them open. Immediatelythe whole country was in a flame. The people rushed from everyside breathing nothing but war. 

Turnus was recognized by all as leader; others joined as allies, chief of whom was Mezentius, a brave and able soldier, but ofdetestable cruelty. He had been the chief of one of theneighboring cities, but his people drove him out. With him wasjoined his son Lausus, a generous youth, worthy of a better sire. 

CAMILLA

Camilla, the favorite of Diana, a huntress and warrior, after thefashion of the Amazons, came with her band of mounted followers, including a select number of her own sex, and ranged herself onthe side of Turnus. This maiden had never accustomed her fingersto the distaff or the loom, but had learned to endure the toils ofwar, and in speed to outstrip the wind. It seemed as if she mightrun over the standing corn without crushing it, or over thesurface of the water without dipping her feet. Camilla's historyhad been singular from the beginning. Her father, Metabus, drivenfrom his city by civil discord, carried with him in his flight hisinfant daughter. As he fled through the woods, his enemies in hotpursuit, he reached the bank of the river Amazenus, which, swelledby rains, seemed to debar a passage. He paused for a moment, thendecided what to do. He tied the infant to his lance with wrappersof bark, and poising the weapon in his upraised hand thusaddressed Diana: "Goddess of the woods! I consecrate this maid toyou;" then hurled the weapon with its burden to the opposite bank. The spear flew across the roaring water. His pursuers were alreadyupon him, but he plunged into the river and swam across, and foundthe spear, with the infant safe on the other side. Thenceforth helived among the shepherds and brought up his daughter in woodlandarts. While a child she was taught to use the bow and throw thejavelin. With her sling she could bring down the crane or the wildswan. Her dress was a tiger's skin. Many mothers sought her for adaughter-in-law, but she continued faithful to Diana and repelledthe thought of marriage. 

EVANDER

Such were the formidable allies that ranged themselves againstAeneas. It was night and he lay stretched in sleep on the bank ofthe river under the open heavens. The god of the stream, FatherTiber, seemed to raise his head above the willows and to say, "Ogoddess-born, destined possessor of the Latin realms, this is thepromised land, here is to be your home, here shall terminate thehostility of the heavenly powers, if only you faithfullypersevere. There are friends not far distant. Prepare your boatsand row up my stream; I will lead you to Evander, the Arcadianchief, he has long been at strife with Turnus and the Rutulians, and is prepared to become an ally of yours. Rise! offer your vowsto Juno, and deprecate her anger. When you have achieved yourvictory then think of me. " Aeneas woke and paid immediateobedience to the friendly vision. He sacrificed to Juno, andinvoked the god of the river and all his tributary fountains tolend their aid. Then for the first time a vessel filled with armedwarriors floated on the stream of the Tiber. The river smoothedits waves, and bade its current flow gently, while, impelled bythe vigorous strokes of the rowers, the vessels shot rapidly upthe stream. 

About the middle of the day they came in sight of the scatteredbuildings of the infant town, where in after times the proud cityof Rome grew, whose glory reached the skies. By chance the oldking, Evander, was that day celebrating annual solemnities inhonor of Hercules and all the gods. Pallas, his son, and all thechiefs of the little commonwealth stood by. When they saw the tallship gliding onward near the wood, they were alarmed at the sight, and rose from the tables. But Pallas forbade the solemnities to beinterrupted, and seizing a weapon, stepped forward to the river'sbank. He called aloud, demanding who they were, and what theirobject. Aeneas, holding forth an olive-branch, replied, "We areTrojans, friends to you, and enemies to the Rutulians. We seekEvander, and offer to join our arms with yours. " Pallas, in amazeat the sound of so great a name, invited them to land, and whenAeneas touched the shore he seized his hand, and held it long infriendly grasp. Proceeding through the wood, they joined the kingand his party and were most favorably received. Seats wereprovided for them at the tables, and the repast proceeded. 

INFANT ROME

When the solemnities were ended all moved towards the city. Theking, bending with age, walked between his son and Aeneas, takingthe arm of one or the other of them, and with much variety ofpleasing talk shortening the way. Aeneas with delight looked andlistened, observing all the beauties of the scene, and learningmuch of heroes renowned in ancient times. Evander said, "Theseextensive groves were once inhabited by fauns and nymphs, and arude race of men who sprang from the trees themselves, and hadneither laws nor social culture. They knew not how to yoke thecattle nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present abundance forfuture want; but browsed like beasts upon the leafy boughs, or fedvoraciously on their hunted prey. Such were they when Saturn, expelled from Olympus by his sons, came among them and drewtogether the fierce savages, formed them into society, and gavethem laws. Such peace and plenty ensued that men ever since havecalled his reign the golden age; but by degrees far other timessucceeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of bloodprevailed. The land was a prey to successive tyrants, till fortuneand resistless destiny brought me hither, an exile from my nativeland, Arcadia. "

Having thus said, he showed him the Tarpeian rock, and the rudespot then overgrown with bushes where in after times the Capitolrose in all its magnificence. He next pointed to some dismantledwalls, and said, "Here stood Janiculum, built by Janus, and thereSaturnia, the town of Saturn. " Such discourse brought them to thecottage of poor Evander, whence they saw the lowing herds roamingover the plain where now the proud and stately Forum stands. Theyentered, and a couch was spread for Aeneas, well stuffed withleaves, and covered with the skin of a Libyan bear. 

Next morning, awakened by the dawn and the shrill song of birdsbeneath the eaves of his low mansion, old Evander rose. Clad in atunic, and a panther's skin thrown over his shoulders, withsandals on his feet and his good sword girded to his side, he wentforth to seek his guest. Two mastiffs followed him, his wholeretinue and body guard. He found the hero attended by his faithfulAchates, and, Pallas soon joining them, the old king spoke thus:

"Illustrious Trojan, it is but little we can do in so great acause. Our state is feeble, hemmed in on one side by the river, onthe other by the Rutulians. But I propose to ally you with apeople numerous and rich, to whom fate has brought you at thepropitious moment. The Etruscans hold the country beyond theriver. Mezentius was their king, a monster of cruelty, whoinvented unheard-of torments to gratify his vengeance. He wouldfasten the dead to the living, hand to hand and face to face, andleave the wretched victims to die in that dreadful embrace. Atlength the people cast him out, him and his house. They burned hispalace and slew his friends. He escaped and took refuge withTurnus, who protects him with arms. The Etruscans demand that heshall be given up to deserved punishment, and would ere now haveattempted to enforce their demand; but their priests restrainthem, telling them that it is the will of heaven that no native ofthe land shall guide them to victory, and that thsir destinedleader must come from across the sea. They have offered the crownto me, but I am too old to undertake such great affairs, and myson is native-born, which precludes him from the choice. You, equally by birth and time of life, and fame in arms, pointed outby the gods, have but to appear to be hailed at once as theirleader. With you I will join Pallas, my son, my only hope andcomfort. Under you he shall learn the art of war, and strive toemulate your great exploits. "

Then the king ordered horses to be furnished for the Trojanchiefs, and Aeneas, with a chosen band of followers and Pallasaccompanying, mounted and took the way to the Etruscan city, [Footnote: The poet here inserts a famous line which is thought toimitate in its sound the galloping of horses. It may be thustranslated--"Then struck the hoofs of the steeds on the groundwith a four-footed trampling. "--See Proverbial Expressions. ]having sent back the rest of his party in the ships. Aeneas andhis band safely arrived at the Etruscan camp and were receivedwith open arms by Tarchon and his countrymen. 

NISUS AND EURYALUS

In the meanwhile Turnus had collected his bands and made allnecessary preparations for the war. Juno sent Iris to him with amessage inciting him to take advantage of the absence of Aeneasand surprise the Trojan camp. Accordingly the attempt was made, but the Trojans were found on their guard, and having receivedstrict orders from Aeneas not to fight in his absence, they laystill in their intrenchments, and resisted all the efforts of theRutulians to draw them into the field. Night coming on, the armyof Turnus, in high spirits at their fancied superiority, feastedand enjoyed themselves, and finally stretched themselves on thefield and slept secure. 

In the camp of the Trojans things were far otherwise. There allwas watchfulness and anxiety and impatience for Aeneas's return. Nisus stood guard at the entrance of the camp, and Euryalus, ayouth distinguished above all in the army for graces of person andfine qualities, was with him. These two were friends and brothersin arms. Nisus said to his friend, "Do you perceive whatconfidence and carelessness the enemy display? Their lights arefew and dim, and the men seem all oppressed with wine or sleep. You know how anxiously our chiefs wish to send to Aeneas, and toget intelligence from him. Now, I am strongly moved to make my waythrough the enemy's camp and to go in search of our chief. If Isucceed, the glory of the deed will be reward enough for me, andif they judge the service deserves anything more, let them pay itto you. "

Euryalus, all on fire with the love of adventure, replied, "Wouldyou, then, Nisus, refuse to share your enterprise with me? Andshall I let you go into such danger alone? Not so my brave fatherbrought me up, nor so have I planned for myself when I joined thestandard of Aeneas, and resolved to hold my life cheap incomparison with honor. " Nisus replied, "I doubt it not, my friend;but you know the uncertain event of such an undertaking, andwhatever may happen to me, I wish you to be safe. You are youngerthan I and have more of life in prospect. Nor can I be the causeof such grief to your mother, who has chosen to be here in thecamp with you rather than stay and live in peace with the othermatrons in Acestes' city. " Euryalus replied, "Say no more. In vainyou seek arguments to dissuade me. I am fixed in the resolution togo with you. Let us lose no time. " They called the guard, andcommitting the watch to them, sought the general's tent. Theyfound the chief officers in consultation, deliberating how theyshould send notice to Aeneas of their situation. The offer of thetwo friends was gladly accepted, themselves loaded with praisesand promised the most liberal rewards in case of success. Iulusespecially addressed Euryalus, assuring him of his lastingfriendship. Euryalus replied, "I have but one boon to ask. My agedmother is with me in the camp. For me she left the Trojan soil, and would not stay behind with the other matrons at the city ofAcestes. I go now without taking leave of her. I could not bearher tears nor set at nought her entreaties. But do thou, I beseechyou, comfort her in her distress. Promise me that and I shall gomore boldly into whatever dangers may present themselves. " Iulusand the other chiefs were moved to tears, and promised to do allhis request. "Your mother shall be mine, " said Iulus, "and allthat I have promised to you shall be made good to her, if you donot return to receive it. "

The two friends left the camp and plunged at once into the midstof the enemy. They found no watch, no sentinels posted, but, allabout, the sleeping soldiers strewn on the grass and among thewagons. The laws of war at that early day did not forbid a braveman to slay a sleeping foe, and the two Trojans slew, as theypassed, such of the enemy as they could without exciting alarm. Inone tent Euryalus made prize of a helmet brilliant with gold andplumes. They had passed through the enemy's ranks without beingdiscovered, but now suddenly appeared a troop directly in front ofthem, which, under Volscens, their leader, were approaching thecamp. The glittering helmet of Euryalus caught their attention, and Volscens hailed the two, and demanded who and whence theywere. They made no answer, but plunged into the wood. The horsemenscattered in all directions to intercept their flight. Nisus hadeluded pursuit and was out of danger, but Euryalus being missinghe turned back to seek him. He again entered the wood and sooncame within sound of voices. Looking through the thicket he sawthe whole band surrounding Euryalus with noisy questions. Whatshould he do? how extricate the youth, or would it be better todie with him. 

Raising his eyes to the moon, which now shone clear, he said, "Goddess! favor my effort!" and aiming his javelin at one of theleaders of the troop, struck him in the back and stretched him onthe plain with a death-blow. In the midst of their amazementanother weapon flew and another of the party fell dead. Volscens, the leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in handupon Euryalus. "You shall pay the penalty of both, " he said, andwould have plunged the sword into his bosom, when Nisus, who fromhis concealment saw the peril of his friend, rushed forwardexclaiming, "'Twas I, 'twas I; turn your swords against me, Rutulians, I did it; he only followed me as a friend. " While hespoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely bosom of Euryalus. His head fell over on his shoulder, like a flower cut down by theplough. Nisus rushed upon Volscens and plunged his sword into hisbody, and was himself slain on the instant by numberless blows. 

MEZENTIUS

Aeneas, with his Etrurian allies, arrived on the scene of actionin time to rescue his beleaguered camp; and now the two armiesbeing nearly equal in strength, the war began in good earnest. Wecannot find space for all the details, but must simply record thefate of the principal characters whom we have introduced to ourreaders. The tyrant Mezentius, finding himself engaged against hisrevolting subjects, raged like a wild beast. He slew all who daredto withstand him, and put the multitude to flight wherever heappeared. At last he encountered Aeneas, and the armies stoodstill to see the issue. Mezentius threw his spear, which strikingAeneas's shield glanced off and hit Anthor. He was a Grecian bybirth, who had left Argos, his native city, and followed Evanderinto Italy. The poet says of him with simple pathos which has madethe words proverbial, "He fell, unhappy, by a wound intended foranother, looked up at the skies, and dying remembered sweetArgos. " [Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions. ] Aeneas now in turnhurled his lance. It pierced the shield of Mezentius, and woundedhim in the thigh. Lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, butrushed forward and interposed himself, while the followers pressedround Mezentius and bore him away. Aeneas held his sword suspendedover Lausus and delayed to strike, but the furious youth pressedon and he was compelled to deal the fatal blow. Lausus fell, andAeneas bent over him in pity. "Hapless youth, " he said, "what canI do for you worthy of your praise? Keep those arms in which youglory, and fear not but that your body shall be restored to yourfriends, and have due funeral honors. " So saying, he called thetimid followers and delivered the body into their hands. 

Mezentius meanwhile had been borne to the riverside, and washedhis wound. Soon the news reached him of Lausus's death, and rageand despair supplied the place of strength. He mounted his horseand dashed into the thickest of the fight, seeking Aeneas. Havingfound him, [Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions. ] he rode roundhim in a circle, throwing one javelin after another, while Aeneasstood fenced with his shield, turning every way to meet them. Atlast, after Mezentius had three times made the circuit, Aeneasthrew his lance directly at the horse's head. It pierced histemples and he fell, while a shout from both armies rent theskies. Mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might bespared the insults of his revolted subjects, and be buried in thesame grave with his son. He received the fatal stroke notunprepared, and poured out his life and his blood together. 

PALLAS, CAMILLA, TURNUS

While these things were doing in one part of the field, in anotherTurnus encountered the youthful Pallas. The contest betweenchampions so unequally matched could not be doubtful. Pallas borehimself bravely, but fell by the lance of Turnus. The victoralmost relented when he saw the brave youth lying dead at hisfeet, and spared to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoilinghim of his arms. The belt only, adorned with studs and carvings ofgold, he took and clasped round his own body. The rest he remittedto the friends of the slain. 

After the battle there was a cessation of arms for some days toallow both armies to bury their dead. In this interval Aeneaschallenged Turnus to decide the contest by single combat, butTurnus evaded the challenge. Another battle ensued, in whichCamilla, the virgin warrior, was chiefly conspicuous. Her deeds ofvalor surpassed those of the bravest warriors, and many Trojansand Etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down by herbattle-axe. At last an Etruscan named Aruns, who had watched herlong, seeking for some advantage, observed her pursuing a flyingenemy whose splendid armor offered a tempting prize. Intent on thechase she observed not her danger, and the javelin of Aruns struckher and inflicted a fatal wound. She fell and breathed her last inthe arms of her attendant maidens. But Diana, who beheld her fate, suffered not her slaughter to be unavenged. Aruns, as he stoleaway, glad, but frightened, was struck by a secret arrow, launchedby one of the nymphs of Diana's train, and died ignobly andunknown. 

At length the final conflict took place between Aeneas and Turnus. Turnus had avoided the contest as long as he could, but at last, impelled by the ill success of his arms and by the murmurs of hisfollowers, he braced himself to the conflict. It could not bedoubtful. On the side of Aeneas were the expressed decree ofdestiny, the aid of his goddess-mother at every emergency, andimpenetrable armor fabricated by Vulcan, at her request, for herson. Turnus, on the other hand, was deserted by his celestialallies, Juno having been expressly forbidden by Jupiter to assisthim any longer. Turnus threw his lance, but it recoiled harmlessfrom the shield of Aeneas. The Trojan hero then threw his, whichpenetrated the shield of Turnus, and pierced his thigh. ThenTurnus's fortitude forsook him and he begged for mercy; and Aeneaswould have given him his life, but at the instant his eye fell onthe belt of Pallas, which Turnus had taken from the slaughteredyouth. Instantly his rage revived, and exclaiming, "Pallasimmolates thee with this blow, " he thrust him through with hissword. 

Here the poem of the "Aeneid" closes, and we are left to inferthat Aeneas, having triumphed over his foes, obtained Lavinia forhis bride. Tradition adds that he founded his city, and called itafter her name, Lavinium. His son Iulus founded Alba Longa, whichwas the birthplace of Romulus and Remus and the cradle of Romeitself. 

There is an allusion to Camilla in those well-known lines of Pope, in which, illustrating the rule that "the sound should be an echoto the sense, " he says:

 "When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labors and the words move slow. Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn or skims along the main. "

 --Essay on Criticism. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

PYTHAGORAS--EGYPTIAN DEITIES--ORACLES

PYTHAGORAS

The teachings of Anchises to Aeneas, respecting the nature of thehuman soul, were in conformity with the doctrines of thePythagoreans. Pythagoras (born five hundred and forty years B. C. )was a native of the island of Samos, but passed the chief portionof his life at Crotona in Italy. He is therefore sometimes called"the Samian, " and sometimes "the philosopher of Crotona. " Whenyoung he travelled extensively, and it is said visited Egypt, where he was instructed by the priests in all their learning, andafterwards journeyed to the East, and visited the Persian andChaldean Magi, and the Brahmins of India. 

At Crotona, where he finally established himself, hisextraordinary qualities collected round him a great number ofdisciples. The inhabitants were notorious for luxury andlicentiousness, but the good effects of his influence were soonvisible. Sobriety and temperance succeeded. Six hundred of theinhabitants became his disciples and enrolled themselves in asociety to aid each other in the pursuit of wisdom, uniting theirproperty in one common stock for the benefit of the whole. Theywere required to practise the greatest purity and simplicity ofmanners. The first lesson they learned was SILENCE; for a timethey were required to be only hearers. "He [Pythagoras] said so"(Ipse dixit), was to be held by them as sufficient, without anyproof. It was only the advanced pupils, after years of patientsubmission, who were allowed to ask questions and to stateobjections. 

Pythagoras considered NUMBERS as the essence and principle of allthings, and attributed to them a real and distinct existence; sothat, in his view, they were the elements out of which theuniverse was constructed. How he conceived this process has neverbeen satisfactorily explained. He traced the various forms andphenomena of the world to numbers as their basis and essence. The"Monad" or unit he regarded as the source of all numbers. Thenumber Two was imperfect, and the cause of increase and division. Three was called the number of the whole because it had abeginning, middle, and end. Four, representing the square, is inthe highest degree perfect; and Ten, as it contains the sum of thefour prime numbers, comprehends all musical and arithmeticalproportions, and denotes the system of the world. 

As the numbers proceed from the monad, so he regarded the pure andsimple essence of the Deity as the source of all the forms ofnature. Gods, demons, and heroes are emanations of the Supreme, and there is a fourth emanation, the human soul. This is immortal, and when freed from the fetters of the body passes to thehabitation of the dead, where it remains till it returns to theworld, to dwell in some other human or animal body, and at last, when sufficiently purified, it returns to the source from which itproceeded. This doctrine of the transmigration of souls(metempsychosis), which was originally Egyptian and connected withthe doctrine of reward and punishment of human actions, was thechief cause why the Pythagoreans killed no animals. Ovidrepresents Pythagoras addressing his disciples in these words:"Souls never die, but always on quitting one abode pass toanother. I myself can remember that in the time of the Trojan warI was Euphorbus, the son of Panthus, and fell by the spear ofMenelaus. Lately being in the temple of Juno, at Argos, Irecognized my shield hung up there among the trophies. All thingschange, nothing perishes. The soul passes hither and thither, occupying now this body, now that, passing from the body of abeast into that of a man, and thence to a beast's again. As wax isstamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped anew withothers, yet is always the same wax, so the soul, being always thesame, yet wears, at different times, different forms. Therefore, if the love of kindred is not extinct in your bosoms, forbear, Ientreat you, to violate the life of those who may haply be yourown relatives. "

Shakspeare, in the "Merchant of Venice, " makes Gratiano allude tothe metempsychosis, where he says to Shylock:

 "Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, To hold opinion with Pythagoras, That souls of animals infuse themselves Into the trunks of men; thy currish spirit Governed a wolf; who hanged for human slaughter Infused his soul in thee; for thy desires Are wolfish, bloody, starved and ravenous. "

The relation of the notes of the musical scale to numbers, wherebyharmony results from vibrations in equal times, and discord fromthe reverse, led Pythagoras to apply the word "harmony" to thevisible creation, meaning by it the just adaptation of parts toeach other. This is the idea which Dryden expresses in thebeginning of his "Song for St. Cecilia's Day":

 "From harmony, from heavenly harmony This everlasting frame began; From harmony to harmony Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The Diapason closing full in Man. "

In the centre of the universe (he taught) there was a centralfire, the principle of life. The central fire was surrounded bythe earth, the moon, the sun, and the five planets. The distancesof the various heavenly bodies from one another were conceived tocorrespond to the proportions of the musical scale. The heavenlybodies, with the gods who inhabited them, were supposed to performa choral dance round the central fire, "not without song. " It isthis doctrine which Shakspeare alludes to when he makes Lorenzoteach astronomy to Jessica in this fashion:

 "Look, Jessica, see how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! There's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim; Such harmony is in immortal souls! But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it. "

 --Merchant of Venice. 

The spheres were conceived to be crystalline or glassy fabricsarranged over one another like a nest of bowls reversed. In thesubstance of each sphere one or more of the heavenly bodies wassupposed to be fixed, so as to move with it. As the spheres aretransparent we look through them and see the heavenly bodies whichthey contain and carry round with them. But as these spherescannot move on one another without friction, a sound is therebyproduced which is of exquisite harmony, too fine for mortal earsto recognize. Milton, in his "Hymn on the Nativity, " thus alludesto the music of the spheres:

 "Ring out, ye crystal spheres! Once bless our human ears (If ye have power to charm our senses so); And let your silver chime Move in melodious time, And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow; And with your ninefold harmony Make up full concert with the angelic symphony. "

Pythagoras is said to have invented the lyre. Our own poetLongfellow, in "Verses to a Child, " thus relates the story:

 "As great Pythagoras of yore, Standing beside the blacksmith's door, And hearing the hammers as they smote The anvils with a different note, Stole from the varying tones that hung Vibrant on every iron tongue, The secret of the sounding wire, And formed the seven-chorded lyre. "

See also the same poet's "Occupation of Orion"--

 "The Samian's great Aeolian lyre. "

SYBARIS AND CROTONA

Sybaris, a neighboring city to Crotona, was as celebrated forluxury and effeminacy as Crotona for the reverse. The name hasbecome proverbial. J. R. Lowell uses it in this sense in hischarming little poem "To the Dandelion":

 "Not in mid June the golden cuirassed bee Feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment In the white lily's breezy tent (His conquered Sybaris) than I when first From the dark green thy yellow circles burst. "

A war arose between the two cities, and Sybaris was conquered anddestroyed. Milo, the celebrated athlete, led the army of Crotona. Many stories are told of Milo's vast strength, such as hiscarrying a heifer of four years old upon his shoulders andafterwards eating the whole of it in a single day. The mode of hisdeath is thus related: As he was passing through a forest he sawthe trunk of a tree which had been partially split open by wood-cutters, and attempted to rend it further; but the wood closedupon his hands and held him fast, in which state he was attackedand devoured by wolves. 

Byron, in his "Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte, " alludes to the story ofMilo:

 "He who of old would rend the oak Deemed not of the rebound; Chained by the trunk he vainly broke, Alone, how looked he round!"

EGYPTIAN DEITIES

The Egyptians acknowledged as the highest deity Amun, afterwardscalled Zeus, or Jupiter Ammon. Amun manifested himself in his wordor will, which created Kneph and Athor, of different sexes. FromKneph and Athor proceeded Osiris and Isis. Osiris was worshippedas the god of the sun, the source of warmth, life, andfruitfulness, in addition to which he was also regarded as the godof the Nile, who annually visited his wife, Isis (the Earth), bymeans of an inundation. Serapis or Hermes is sometimes representedas identical with Osiris, and sometimes as a distinct divinity, the ruler of Tartarus and god of medicine. Anubis is the guardiangod, represented with a dog's head, emblematic of his character offidelity and watchfulness. Horus or Harpocrates was the son ofOsiris. He is represented seated on a Lotus flower, with hisfinger on his lips, as the god of Silence. 

In one of Moore's "Irish Melodies" is an allusion to Harpocrates:

 "Thyself shall, under some rosy bower, Sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip; Like him, the boy, who born among The flowers that on the Nile-stream blush, Sits ever thus, --his only song To Earth and Heaven, 'Hush all, hush!'"

MYTH OF OSIRIS AND ISIS

Osiris and Isis were at one time induced to descend to the earthto bestow gifts and blessings on its inhabitants. Isis showed themfirst the use of wheat and barley, and Osiris made the instrumentsof agriculture and taught men the use of them, as well as how toharness the ox to the plough. He then gave men laws, theinstitution of marriage, a civil organization, and taught them howto worship the gods. After he had thus made the valley of the Nilea happy country, he assembled a host with which he went to bestowhis blessings upon the rest of the world. He conquered the nationseverywhere, but not with weapons, only with music and eloquence. His brother Typhon saw this, and filled with envy and malicesought during his absence to usurp his throne. But Isis, who heldthe reins of government, frustrated his plans. Still moreembittered, he now resolved to kill his brother. This he did inthe following manner: Having organized a conspiracy of seventy-twomembers, he went with them to the feast which was celebrated inhonor of the king's return. He then caused a box or chest to bebrought in, which had been made to fit exactly the size of Osiris, and declared that he wouldd would give that chest of precious woodto whosoever could get into it. The rest tried in vain, but nosooner was Osiris in it than Typhon and his companions closed thelid and flung the chest into the Nile. When Isis heard of thecruel murder she wept and mourned, and then with her hair shorn, clothed in black and beating her breast, she sought diligently forthe body of her husband. In this search she was materiallyassisted by Anubis, the son of Osiris and Nephthys. They sought invain for some time; for when the chest, carried by the waves tothe shores of Byblos, had become entangled in the reeds that grewat the edge of the water, the divine power that dwelt in the bodyof Osiris imparted such strength to the shrub that it grew into amighty tree, enclosing in its trunk the coffin of the god. Thistree with its sacred deposit was shortly after felled, and erectedas a column in the palace of the king of Phoenicia. But at lengthby the aid of Anubis and the sacred birds, Isis ascertained thesefacts, and then went to the royal city. There she offered herselfat the palace as a servant, and being admitted, threw off herdisguise and appeared as a goddess, surrounded with thunder andlightning. Striking the column with her wand she caused it tosplit open and give up the sacred coffin. This she seized andreturned with it, and concealed it in the depth of a forest, butTyphon discovered it, and cutting the body into fourteen piecesscattered them hither and thither. After a tedious search, Isisfound thirteen pieces, the fishes of the Nile having eaten theother. This she replaced by an imitation of sycamore wood, andburied the body at Philae, which became ever after the greatburying place of the nation, and the spot to which pilgrimageswere made from all parts of the country. A temple of surpassingmagnificence was also erected there in honor of the god, and atevery place where one of his limbs had been found minor templesand tombs were built to commemorate the event. Osiris became afterthat the tutelar deity of the Egyptians. His soul was supposedalways to inhabit the body of the bull Apis, and at his death totransfer itself to his successor. 

Apis, the Bull of Memphis, was worshipped with the greatestreverence by the Egyptians. The individual animal who was held tobe Apis was recognized by certain signs. It was requisite that heshould be quite black, have a white square mark on the forehead, another, in the form of an eagle, on his back, and under histongue a lump somewhat in the shape of a scarabaeus or beetle. Assoon as a bull thus marked was found by those sent in search ofhim, he was placed in a building facing the east, and was fed withmilk for four months. At the expiration of this term the priestsrepaired at new moon, with great pomp, to his habitation andsaluted him Apis. He was placed in a vessel magnificentlydecorated and conveyed down the Nile to Memphis, where a temple, with two chapels and a court for exercise, was assigned to him. Sacrifices were made to him, and once every year, about the timewhen the Nile began to rise, a golden cup was thrown into theriver, and a grand festival was held to celebrate his birthday. The people believed that during this festival the crocodilesforgot their natural ferocity and became harmless. There was, however, one drawback to his happy lot: he was not permitted tolive beyond a certain period, and if, when he had attained the ageof twenty-five years, he still survived, the priests drowned himin the sacred cistern and then buried him in the temple ofSerapis. On the death of this bull, whether it occurred in thecourse of nature or by violence, the whole land was filled withsorrow and lamentations, which lasted until his successor wasfound. 

We find the following item in one of the newspapers of the day:

"The Tomb of Apis. --The excavations going on at Memphis bid fairto make that buried city as interesting as Pompeii. The monstertomb of Apis is now open, after having lain unknown forcenturies. "

Milton, in his "Hymn on the Nativity, " alludes to the Egyptiandeities, not as imaginary beings, but as real demons, put toflight by the coming of Christ. 

 "The brutish god of Nile as fast, Isis and Horus and the dog Anubis haste. Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove or green Trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud; Nor can he be at rest Within his sacred chest; Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud. In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark The sable-stole sorcerers bear his worshipped ark. "

[Footnote: There being no rain in Egypt, the grass is"unshowered, " and the country depend for its fertility upon theoverflowings of the Nile. The ark alluded to in the last line isshown by pictures still remaining on the walls of the Egyptiantemples to have been borne by the priests in their religiousprocessions. It probably represented the chest in which Osiris wasplaced. ]

Isis was represinted in statuary with the head veiled, a symbol ofmystery. It is this which Tennyson alludes to in "Maud, " IV. , 8:

"For the drift of the Maker is dark, an Isis hid by the veil, "etc. 

ORACLES Oracle was the name used to denote the place where answerswere supposed to be given by any of the divinities to those whoconsulted them respecting the future. The word was also used tosignify the response which was given. 

The most ancient Grecian oracle was that of Jupiter at Dodona. According to one account, it was established in the followingmanner: Two black doves took their flight from Thebes in Egypt. One flew to Dodona in Epirus, and alighting in a grove of oaks, itproclaimed in human language to the inhabitants of the districtthat they must establish there an oracle of Jupiter. The otherdove flew to the temple of Jupiter Ammon in the Libyan Oasis, anddelivered a similar command there. Another account is, that theywere not doves, but priestesses, who were carried off from Thebesin Egypt by the Phoenicians, and set up oracles at the Oasis andDodona. The responses of the oracle were given from the trees, bythe branches rustling in the wind, the sounds being interpreted bythe priests. 

But the most celebrated of the Grecian oracles was that of Apolloat Delphi, a city built on the slopes of Parnassus in Phocis. 

It had been observed at a very early period that the goats feedingon Parnassus were thrown into convulsions when they approached acertain long deep cleft in the side of the mountain. This wasowing to a peculiar vapor arising out of the cavern, and one ofthe goatherds was induced to try its effects upon himself. Inhaling the intoxicating air, he was affected in the same manneras the cattle had been, and the inhabitants of the surroundingcountry, unable to explain the circumstance, imputed theconvulsive ravings to which he gave utterance while under thepower of the exhalations to a divine inspiration. The fact wasspeedily circulated widely, and a temple was erected on the spot. The prophetic influence was at first variously attributed to thegoddess Earth, to Neptune, Themis, and others, but it was atlength assigned to Apollo, and to him alone. A priestess wasappointed whose office it was to inhale the hallowed air, and whowas named the Pythia. She was prepared for this duty by previousablution at the fountain of Castalia, and being crowned withlaurel was seated upon a tripod similarly adorned, which wasplaced over the chasm whence the divine afflatus proceeded. Herinspired words while thus situated were interpreted by thepriests. 

ORACLE OF TROPHONIUS

Besides the oracles of Jupiter and Apollo, at Dodona and Delphi, that of Trophonius in Boeotia was held in high estimation. Trophonius and Agamedes were brothers. They were distinguishedarchitects, and built the temple of Apollo at Delphi, and atreasury for King Hyrieus. In the wall of the treasury they placeda stone, in such a manner that it could be taken out; and by thismeans, from time to time, purloined the treasure. This amazedHyrieus, for his locks and seals were untouched, and yet hiswealth continually diminished. At length he set a trap for thethief and Agamedes was caught. Trophonias, unable to extricatehim, and fearing that when found he would be compelled by tortureto discover his accomplice, cut off his head. Trophonius himselfis said to have been shortly afterwards swallowed up by the earth. 

The oracle of Trophonius was at Lebadea in Boeotia. During a greatdrought the Boeotians, it is said, were directed by the god atDelphi to seek aid of Trophonius at Lebadea. They came thither, but could find no pracle. One of them, however, happening to see aswarm of bees, followed them to a chasm in the earth, which provedto be the place sought. 

Peculiar ceremonies were to be performed by the person who came toconsult the oracle. After these preliminaries, he descended intothe cave by a narrow passage. This place could be entered only inthe night. The person returned from the cave by the same narrowpassage, bat walking backwards. He appeared melancholy anddefected; and hence the proverb which was applied to a person low-spirited and gloomy, "He has been consulting the oracle ofTrophonius. "

ORACLE OF AESCULAPIUS

There were numerous oracles of Aesculapius, but the mostcelebrated one was at Epidaurus. Here the sick sought responsesand the recovery of their health by sleeping in the temple. It hasbeen inferred from the accounts that have come down to us that thetreatment of the sick resembled what is now called AnimalMagnetism or Mesmerism. 

Serpents 'were sacred to Aesculapius, probably because of asuperstition that those animals have a faculty of renewing theiryouth by a change of skin. The worship of Aesculapius wasintroduced into Rome in a time of great sickness, and an embassysent to the temple of Epidaurus to entreat the aid of the god. Aesculapius was propitious, and on the return of the shipaccompanied it in the form of a serpent. Arriving in the riverTiber, the serpent glided from the vessel and took possession ofan island in the river, and a temple was there erected to hishonor. 

ORACLE OF APIS

At Memphis the sacred bull Apis gave answer to those who consultedhim by the manner in which he received or rejected what waspresented to him. If the bull refused food from the hand of theinquirer it was considered an unfavorable sign, and the contrarywhen he received it. 

It has been a question whether oracular responses ought to beascribed to mere human contrivance or to the agency of evilspirits. The latter opinion has been most general in past ages. Athird theory has been advanced since the phenomena of Mesmerismhave attracted attention, that something like the mesmeric trancewas induced in the Pythoness, and the faculty of clairvoyancereally called into action. 

Another question is as to the time when the Pagan oracles ceasedto give responses. Ancient Christian writers assert that theybecame silent at the birth of Christ, and were heard no more afterthat date. Milton adopts, this view in his "Hymn on the Mativity, "and in lines of solemn and elevated beauty pictures theconsternation of the heathen idols at the Advent of the Saviour:

 "The oracles are dumb; No voice or hideous hum Rings through the arched roof in words Deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos heaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell"

In Cowper's poem of "Yardley Oak" there are some beautifulmythological allusions. The former of the two following is to thefable of Castor and Pollux; the latter is more appropriate to ourpresent subject. Addressing the acorn he says:

 "Thou fell'st mature; and in the loamy clod, Swelling with vegetative force instinct, Didst burst thine, as theirs the fabled Twins Now stars; twor lobes protruding, paired exact; A leaf succeede and another leaf, And, all the elements thy puny growth Fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig. Who lived when thou wast such? Of couldst thou speak, As in Dodona once thy kindred trees Oracular, I would not curious ask The future, best unknown, but at thy mouth Inquisitive, the less ambiguous past. "

Tennyson, in his "Talking Oak, " alludes to the oaks of Dodona inthese lines:

 And I will work in prose and rhyme, And praise thee more in both Than bard has honored beech or lime, Or that Thessalian growth In which the swarthy ring-dove sat And mystic sentence spoke; etc. 

Byron alludes to the oracle of Delphi where, speaking of Rousseau, whose writings he conceives did much to bring on the Frenchrevolution, he says:

 "For the, he was inspired, and from him came, As from the Pythian's mystic cave of yore, Those oracles which set the world in flame, Nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more. "

CHAPTER XXXV

ORIGIN OF MYTHOLOGY--STATUES OF GODS AND GODDESSES--POETS OFMYTHOLOGY

ORIGINS OF MYTHOLOGY

Having reached the close of our series of stories of Paganmythology, and inquiry suggests itself. "Whence came thesestories? Have they a foundation in truth or are they simply dreamsof the imagination?" Philosophers have suggested various theorieson the subject; and 1. The Scriptural theory; according to whichall mythological legends are derived from the narratives ofScripture, though the real facts have been disguised and altered. Thus Deucalion is only another name for Noah, Hercules for Samson, Arion for Jonah, etc. Sir Walter Raleigh, in his "History of theWorld, " says, "Jubal, Tubal, and Tubal-Cain were Mercury, Vulcan, and Apollo, inventors of Pasturage, Smithing, and Music. TheDragon which kept the golden apples was the serpent that beguiledEve. Nimrod's tower was the attempt of the Giants against Heaven. "There are doubtless many curious coincidences like these, but thetheory cannot without extravagance be pushed so far as to accountfor any great proportion of the stories. 

2. The Historical theory; according to which all the personsmentioned in mythology were once real human beings, and thelegends and fabulous traditions relating to them are merely theadditions and embellishments of later times. Thus the story ofAeolus, the king and god of the winds, is supposed to have risenfrom the fact that Aeolus was the ruler of some islands in theTyrrhenian Sea, where he reigned as a just and pious king, andtaught the natives the use of sails for ships, and how to tellfrom the signs of the atmosphere the changes of the weather andthe winds. Cadmus, who, the legend says, sowed the earth withdragon's teeth, from which sprang a crop of armed men, was in factan emigrant from Phoenicia, and brought with him into Greece theknowledge of the letters of the alphabet, which he taught to thenatives. From these rudiments of learning sprung civilization, which the poets have always been prone to describe as adeterioration of man's first estate, the Golden Age of innocenceand simplicity. 

3. The Allegorical theory supposes that all the myths of theancients were allegorical and symbolical, and contained somemoral, religious, or philosophical truth or historical fact, underthe form of an allegory, but came in process of time to beunderstood literally. Thus Saturn, who devours his own children, is the same power whom the Greeks called Cronos (Time), which maytruly be said to destroy whatever it has brought into existence. The story of Io is interpreted in a similar manner. Io is themoon, and Argus the starry sky, which, as it were, keeps sleeplesswatch over her. The fabulous wanderings of Io represent thecontinual revolutions of the moon, which also suggested to Miltonthe same idea. 

 "To behold the wandering moon Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray In the heaven's wide, pathless way. "

 --Il Penseroso. 

4. The Physical theory; according to which the elements of air, fire, and water were originally the objects of religiousadoration, and the principal deities were personifications of thepowers of nature. The transition was easy from a personificationof the elements to the notion of supernatural beings presidingover and governing the different objects of nature. The Greeks, whose imagination was lively, peopled all nature with invisiblebeings, and supposed that every object, from the sun and sea tothe smallest fountain and rivulet, was under the care of someparticular divinity. Wordsworth, in his "Excursion, " hasbeautifully developed this view of Grecian mythology:

 "In that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched On the soft grass through half a summer's day, With music lulled his indolent repose; And, in some fit of weariness, if he, When his own breath was silent, chanced to hear A distant strain far sweeter than the sounds Which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched Even from the blazing chariot of the Sun A beardless youth who touched a golden lute, And filled the illumined groves with ravishment. The mighty hunter, lifting up his eyes Toward the crescent Moon, with grateful heart Called on the lovely Wanderer who bestowed That timely light to share his joyous sport; And hence a beaming goddess with her nymphs Across the lawn and through the darksome grove (Not unaccompanied with tuneful notes By echo multiplied from rock or cave) Swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars Glance rapidly along the clouded heaven When winds are blowing strong. The Traveller slaked His thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked The Naiad. Sunbeams upon distant hills Gliding apace with shadows in their train, Might with small help from fancy, be transformed Into fleet Oreads sporting visibly. The Zephyrs, fanning, as they passed, their wings, Lacked not for love fair objects whom they wooed With gentle whisper. Withered boughs grotesque, Stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age, From depth of shaggy covert peeping forth In the low vale, or on steep mountain side; And sometimes intermixed with stirring horns Of the live deer, or goat's depending beard; These were the lurking Satyrs, wild brood Of gamesome deities; or Pan himself, That simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god. "

All the theories which have been mentioned are true to a certainextent. It would therefore be more correct to say that themythology of a nation has sprung from all these sources combinedthan from any one in particular. We may add also that there aremany myths which have arisen from the desire of man to account forthose natural phenomena which he cannot understand; and not a fewhave had their rise from a similar desire of giving a reason forthe names of places and persons. 

STATUES OF THE GODS

To adequately represent to the eye the ideas intended to beconveyed to the mind under the several names of deities was a taskwhich called into exercise the highest powers of genius and art. Of the many attempts FOUR have been most celebrated, the first twoknown to us only by the descriptions of the ancients, the othersstill extant and the acknowledged masterpieces of the sculptor'sart. 

THE OLYMPIAN JUPITER

The statue of the Olympian Jupiter by Phidias was considered thehighest achievement of this department of Grecian art. It was ofcolossal dimensions, and was what the ancients called"chryselephantine;" that is, composed of ivory and gold; the partsrepresenting flesh being of ivory laid on a core of wood or stone, while the drapery and other ornaments were of gold. The height ofthe figure was forty feet, on a pedestal twelve feet high. The godwas represented seated on his throne. His brows were crowned witha wreath of olive, and he held in his right hand a sceptre, and inhis left a statue of Victory. The throne was of cedar, adornedwith gold and precious stones. 

The idea which the artist essayed to embody was that of thesupreme deity of the Hellenic (Grecian) nation, enthroned as aconqueror, in perfect majesty and repose, and ruling with a nodthe subject world. Phidias avowed that he took his idea from therepresentation which Homer gives in the first book of the "Iliad, "in the passage thus translated by Pope:

 "He spoke and awful bends his sable brows, Shakes his ambrosial curls and gives the nod, The stamp of fate and sanction of the god. High heaven with reverence the dread signal took, And all Olympus to the centre shook. "

[Footnote: Cowper's version is less elegant, but truer to theoriginal:

 "He ceased, and under his dark brows the nod Vouchsafed of confirmation. All around The sovereign's everlasting head his curls Ambrosial shook, and the huge mountain reeled. "

It may interest our readers to see how this passage appears inanother famous version, that which was issued under the name ofTickell, contemporaneously with Pope's, and which, being by manyattributed to Addison, led to the quarrel which ensued betweenAddison and Pope:

 "This said, his kingly brow the sire inclined; The large black curls fell awful from behind, Thick shadowing the stern forehead of the god; Olympus trembled at the almighty nod. "]

THE MINERVA OF THE PARTHENON

This was also the work of Phidias. It stood in the Parthenon, ortemple of Minerva at Athens. The goddess was represented standing. In one hand she held a spear, in the other a statue of Victory. Her helmet, highly decorated, was surmounted by a Sphinx. Thestatue was forty feet in height, and, like the Jupiter, composedof ivory and gold. The eyes were of marble, and probably paintedto represent the iris and pupil. The Parthenon, in which thisstatue stood, was also constructed under the direction andsuperintendence of Phidias. Its exterior was enriched withsculptures, many of them from the hand of Phidias. The Elginmarbles, now in the British Museum, are a part of them. 

Both the Jupiter and Minerva of Phidias are lost, but there isgood ground to believe that we have, in several extant statues andbusts, the artist's conceptions of the countenances of both. Theyare characterized by grave and dignified beauty, and freedom fromany transient expression, which in the language of art is calledrepose. 

THE VENUS DE' MEDICI

The Venus of the Medici is so called from its having been in thepossession of the princes of that name in Rome when it firstattracted attention, about two hundred years ago. An inscriptionon the base records it to be the work of Cleomenes, an Atheniansculptor of 200 B. C. , but the authenticity of the inscription isdoubtful. There is a story that the artist was employed by publicauthority to make a statue exhibiting the perfection of femalebeauty, and to aid him in his task the most perfect forms the citycould supply were furnished him for models. It is this whichThomson alludes to in his "Summer":

 "So stands the statue that enchants the world; So bending tries to veil the matchless boast, The mingled beauties of exulting Greece. "

Byron also alludes to this statue. Speaking of the FlorenceMuseum, he says:

 "There, too, the goddess loves in stone, and fills The air around with beauty;" etc. 

And in the next stanza, "Blood, pulse, and breast confirm the Dardan shepherd's prize. "

See this last allusion explained in Chapter XXVII. 

THE APOLLO BELVEDERE

The most highly esteemed of all the remains of ancient sculptureis the statue of Apollo, called the Belvedere, from the name ofthe apartment of the Pope's palace at Rome in which it was placed. The artist is unknown. It is supposed to be a work of Roman art, of about the first century of our era. It is a standing figure, inmarble, more than seven feet high, naked except for the cloakwhich is fastened around the neck and hangs over the extended leftarm. It is supposed to represent the god in the moment when he hasshot the arrow to destroy the monster Python. (See Chapter III. )The victorious divinity is in the act of stepping forward. Theleft arm, which seems to have held the bow, is outstretched, andthe head is turned in the same direction. In attitude andproportion the graceful majesty of the figure is unsurpassed. Theeffect is completed by the countenance, where on the perfection ofyouthful godlike beauty there dwells the consciousness oftriumphant power. 

THE DIANA A LA BICHE

The Diana of the Hind, in the palace of the Louvre, may beconsidered the counterpart to the Apollo Belvedere. The attitudemuch resembles that of the Apollo, the sizes correspond and alsothe style of execution. It is a work of the highest order, thoughby no means equal to the Apollo. The attitude is that of hurriedand eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the excitement ofthe chase. The left hand is extended over the forehead of theHind, which runs by her side, the right arm reaches backward overthe shoulder to draw an arrow from the quiver. 

THE POETS OF MYTHOLOGY

Homer, from whose poems of the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" we have takenthe chief part of our chapters of the Trojan war and the return ofthe Grecians, is almost as mythical a personage as the heroes hecelebrates. The traditionary story is that he was a wanderingminstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to place singinghis lays to the music of his harp, in the courts of princes or thecottages of peasants, and dependent upon the voluntary offeringsof his hearers for support. Byron calls him "The blind old man ofScio's rocky isle, " and a well-known epigram, alluding to theuncertainty of the fact of his birthplace, says:

 "Seven wealthy towns contend for Homer dead, Through which the living Homer begged his bread. "

These seven were Smyrna, Scio, Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis, Argos, and Athens. 

Modern scholars have doubted whether the Homeric poems are thework of any single mind. This arises from the difficulty ofbelieving that poems of such length could have been committed towriting at so early an age as that usually assigned to these, anage earlier than the date of any remaining inscriptions or coins, and when no materials capable of containing such long productionswere yet introduced into use. On the other hand it is asked howpoems of such length could have been handed down from age to ageby means of the memory alone. This is answered by the statementthat there was a professional body of men, called Rhapsodists, whorecited the poems of others, and whose business it was to committo memory and rehearse for pay the national and patriotic legends. 

The prevailing opinion of the learned, at this time, seems to bethat the framework and much of the structure of the poems belongto Homer, but that there are numerous interpolations and additionsby other hands. 

The date assigned to Homer, on the authority of Herodotus, is 850B. C. 

VIRGIL

Virgil, called also by his surname, Maro, from whose poem of the"Aeneid" we have taken the story of Aeneas, was one of the greatpoets who made the reign of the Roman emperor Augustus socelebrated, under the name of the Augustan age. Virgil was born inMantua in the year 70 B. C. His great poem is ranked next to thoseof Homer, in the highest class of poetical composition, the Epic. Virgil is far inferior to Homer in originality and invention, butsuperior to him in correctness and elegance. To critics of Englishlineage Milton alone of modern poets seems worthy to be classedwith these illustrious ancients. His poem of "Paradise Lost, " fromwhich we have borrowed so many illustrations, is in many respectsequal, in some superior, to either of the great works ofantiquity. The following epigram of Dryden characterizes the threepoets with as much truth as it is usual to find in such pointedcriticism:

 "ON MILTON

 "Three poets in three different ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn The first in loftiness of soul surpassed, The next in majesty, in both the last. The force of nature could no further go; To make a third she joined the other two. "

From Cowper's "Table Talk":

 "Ages elapsed ere Homer's lamp appeared, And ages ere the Mantuan swan was heard. To carry nature lengths unknown before, To give a Milton birth, asked ages more. Thus genius rose and set at ordered times, And shot a dayspring into distant climes, Ennobling every region that he chose; He sunk in Greece, in Italy he rose, And, tedious years of Gothic darkness past, Emerged all splendor in our isle at last. Thus lovely Halcyons dive into the main, Then show far off their shining plumes again. "

OVID

Ovid, often alluded to in poetry by his other name of Naso, wasborn in the year 43 B. C. He was educated for public life and heldsome offices of considerable dignity, but poetry was his delight, and he early resolved to devote himself to it. He accordinglysought the society of the contemporary poets, and was acquaintedwith Horace and saw Virgil, though the latter died when Ovid wasyet too young and undistinguished to have formed his acquaintance. Ovid spent an easy life at Rome in the enjoyment of a competentincome. He was intimate with the family of Augustus, the emperor, and it is supposed that some serious offence given to some memberof that family was the cause of an event which reversed the poet'shappy circumstances and clouded all the latter portion of hislife. At the age of fifty he was banished from Rome, and orderedto betake himself to Tomi, on the borders of the Black Sea. Here, among the barbarous people and in a severe climate, the poet, whohad been accustomed to all the pleasures of a luxurious capitaland the society of his most distinguished contemporaries, spentthe last ten years of his life, worn out with grief and anxiety. His only consolation in exile was to address his wife and absentfriends, and his letters were all poetical. Though these poems(the "Trista" and "Letters from Pontus") have no other topic thanthe poet's sorrows, his exquisite taste and fruitful inventionhave redeemed them from the charge of being tedious, and they areread with pleasure and even with sympathy. 

The two great works of Ovid are his "Metamorphoses" and his"Fasti. " They are both mythological poems, and from the former wehave taken most of our stories of Grecian and Roman mythology. Alate writer thus characterizes these poems:

"The rich mythology of Greece furnished Ovid, as it may stillfurnish the poet, the painter, and the sculptor, with materialsfor his art. With exquisite taste, simplicity, and pathos he hasnarrated the fabulous traditions of early ages, and given to themthat appearance of reality which only a master hand could impart. His pictures of nature are striking and true; he selects with carethat which is appropriate; he rejects the superfluous; and when hehas completed his work, it is neither defective nor redundant. The'Metamorphoses' are read with pleasure by youth, and are re-readin more advanced age with still greater delight. The poet venturedto predict that his poem would survive him, and be read whereverthe Roman name was known. "

The prediction above alluded to is contained in the closing linesof the "Metamorphoses, " of which we give a literal translationbelow:

 "And now I close my work, which not the ire Of Jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire Shall bring to nought. Come when it will that day Which o'er the body, not the mind, has sway, And snatch the remnant of my life away, My better part above the stars shall soar, And my renown endure forevermore. Where'er the Roman arms and arts shall spread There by the people shall my book be read; And, if aught true in poet's visions be, My name and fame have immortality. "

CHAPTER XXXVI

MODERN MONSTERS--THE PHOENIX--BASILISK--UNICORN--SALAMANDER

MODERN MONSTERS

There is a set of imaginary beings which seem to have been thesuccessors of the "Gorgons, Hydras, and Chimeras dire" of the oldsuperstitions, and, having no connection with the false gods ofPaganism, to have continued to enjoy an existence in the popularbelief after Paganism was superseded by Christianity. They arementioned perhaps by the classical writers, but their chiefpopularity and currency seem to have been in more modern times. Weseek our accounts of them not so much in the poetry of theancients as in the old natural history books and narrations oftravellers. The accounts which we are about to give are takenchiefly from the Penny Cyclopedia. 

THE PHOENIX

Ovid tells the story of the Phoenix as follows: "Most beingsspring from other individuals; but there is a certain kind whichreproduces itself. The Assyrians call it the Phoenix. It does notlive on fruit or flowers, but on frankincense and odoriferousgums. When it has lived five hundred years, it builds itself anest in the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm tree. Inthis it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh, and of thesematerials builds a pile on which it deposits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath amidst odors. From the body of theparent bird, a young Phoenix issues forth, destined to live aslong a life as its predecessor. When this has grown up and gainedsufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its owncradle and its parent's sepulchre), and carries it to the city ofHeliopolis in Egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the Sun. "

Such is the account given by a poet. Now let us see that of aphilosophic historian. Tacitus says, "In the consulship of PaulusFabius (A. D. 34) the miraculous bird known to the world by thename of the Phoenix, after disappearing for a series of ages, revisited Egypt. It was attended in its flight by a group ofvarious birds, all attracted by the novelty, and gazing withwonder at so beautiful an appearance. " He then gives an account ofthe bird, not varying materially from the preceding, but addingsome details. "The first care of the young bird as soon asfledged, and able to trust to his wings, is to perform theobsequies of his father. But this duty is not undertaken rashly. He collects a quantity of myrrh, and to try his strength makesfrequent excursions with a load on his back. When he has gainedsufficient confidence in his own vigor, he takes up the body ofhis father and flies with it to the altar of the Sun, where heleaves it to be consumed in flames of fragrance. " Other writersadd a few particulars. The myrrh is compacted in the form of anegg, in which the dead Phoenix is enclosed. From the moulderingflesh of the dead bird a worm springs, and this worm, when grownlarge, is transformed into a bird. Herodotus DESCRIBES the bird, though he says, "I have not seen it myself, except in a picture. Part of his plumage is gold-colored, and part crimson; and he isfor the most part very much like an eagle in outline and bulk. "

The first writer who disclaimed a belief in the existence of thePhoenix was Sir Thomas Browne, in his "Vulgar Errors, " publishedin 1646. He was replied to a few years later by Alexander Ross, who says, in answer to the objection of the Phoenix so seldommaking his appearance, "His instinct teaches him to keep out ofthe way of the tyrant of the creation, MAN, for if he were to begot at, some wealthy glutton would surely devour him, though therewere no more in the world. "

Dryden in one of his early poems has this allusion to the Phoenix:

 "So when the new-born Phoenix first is seen, Her feathered subjects all adore their queen, And while she makes her progress through the East, From every grove her numerous train's increased; Each poet of the air her glory sings, And round him the pleased audience clap their wings. "

Milton, in "Paradise Lost, " Book V. , compares the angel Raphaeldescending to earth to a Phoenix:

 "... Down thither, prone in flight He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan Winnows the buxom air; till within soar Of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems A Phoenix, gazed by all; as that sole bird When, to enshrine his relics in the sun's Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies. "

THE COCKATRICE, OR BASILISK

This animal was called the king of the serpents. In confirmationof his royalty, he was said to be endowed with a crest, or combupon the head, constituting a crown. He was supposed to beproduced from the egg of a cock hatched under toads or serpents. There were several species of this animal. One species burned upwhatever they approached; a second were a kind of wanderingMedusa's heads, and their look caused an instant horror which wasimmediately followed by death. In Shakspeare's play of "Richardthe Third, " Lady Anne, in answer to Richard's compliment on hereyes, says, "Would they were basilisk's, to strike thee dead!"

The basilisks were called kings of serpents because all otherserpents and snakes, behaving like good subjects, and wisely notwishing to be burned up or struck dead, fled the moment they heardthe distant hiss of their king, although they might be in fullfeed upon the most delicious prey, leaving the sole enjoyment ofthe banquet to the royal monster. 

The Roman naturalist Pliny thus describes him: "He does not impelhis body, like other serpents, by a multiplied flexion, butadvances lofty and upright. He kills the shrubs, not only bycontact, but by breathing on them, and splits the rocks, suchpower of evil is there in him. " It was formerly believed that ifkilled by a spear from on horseback the power of the poisonconducted through the weapon killed not only the rider, but thehorse also. To this Lucan alludes in these lines:

 "What though the Moor the basilisk hath slain, And pinned him lifeless to the sandy plain, Up through the spear the subtle venom flies, The hand imbibes it, and the victor dies. "

Such a prodigy was not likely to be passed over in the legends ofthe saints. Accordingly we find it recorded that a certain holyman, going to a fountain in the desert, suddenly beheld abasilisk. He immediately raised his eyes to heaven, and with apious appeal to the Deity laid the monster dead at his feet. 

These wonderful powers of the basilisk are attested by a host oflearned persons, such as Galen, Avicenna, Scaliger, and others. Occasionally one would demur to some part of the tale while headmitted the rest. Jonston, a learned physician, sagely remarks, "I would scarcely believe that it kills with its look, for whocould have seen it and lived to tell the story?" The worthy sagewas not aware that those who went to hunt the basilisk of thissort took with them a mirror, which reflected back the deadlyglare upon its author, and by a kind of poetical justice slew thebasilisk with his own weapon. 

But what was to attack this terrible and unapproachable monster?There is an old saying that "everything has its enemy"--and thecockatrice quailed before the weasel. The basilisk might lookdaggers, the weasel cared not, but advanced boldly to theconflict. When bitten, the weasel retired for a moment to eat somerue, which was the only plant the basilisks could not wither, returned with renewed strength and soundness to the charge, andnever left the enemy till he was stretched dead on the plain. Themonster, too, as if conscious of the irregular way in which hecame into the world, was supposed to have a great antipathy to acock; and well he might, for as soon as he heard the cock crow heexpired. 

The basilisk was of some use after death. Thus we read that itscarcass was suspended in the temple of Apollo, and in privatehouses, as a sovereign remedy against spiders, and that it wasalso hung up in the temple of Diana, for which reason no swallowever dared enter the sacred place. 

The reader will, we apprehend, by this time have had enough ofabsurdities, but still we can imagine his anxiety to know what acockatrice was like. The following is from Aldrovandus, acelebrated naturalist of the sixteenth century, whose work onnatural history, in thirteen folio volumes, contains with muchthat is valuable a large proportion of fables and inutilities. Inparticular he is so ample on the subject of the cock and the bullthat from his practice, all rambling, gossiping tales of doubtfulcredibility are called COCK AND BULL STORIES. Aldrovandus, however, deserves our respect and esteem as the founder of abotanic garden, and as a pioneer in the now prevalent custom ofmaking scientific collections for purposes of investigation andresearch. 

Shelley, in his "Ode to Naples, " full of the enthusiasm excited bythe intelligence of the proclamation of a ConstitutionalGovernment at Naples, in 1820, thus uses an allusion to thebasilisk:

 "What though Cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme Freedom and thee? a new Actaeon's error Shall theirs have been, --devoured by their own hounds! Be thou like the imperial basilisk, Killing thy foe with unapparent wounds! Gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk, Aghast she pass from the earth's disk. Fear not, but gaze, --for freemen mightier grow, And slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe. "

THE UNICORN

Pliny, the Roman naturalist, out of whose account of the unicornmost of the modern unicorns have been described and figured, records it as "a very ferocious beast, similar in the rest of itsbody to a horse, with the head of a deer, the feet of an elephant, the tail of a boar, a deep, bellowing voice, and a single blackhorn, two cubits in length, standing out in the middle of itsforehead. " He adds that "it cannot be taken alive;" and some suchexcuse may have been necessary in those days for not producing theliving animal upon the arena of the amphitheatre. 

The unicorn seems to have been a sad puzzle to the hunters, whohardly knew how to come at so valuable a piece of game. Somedescribed the horn as movable at the will of the animal, a kind ofsmall sword, in short, with which no hunter who was notexceedingly cunning in fence could have a chance. Othersmaintained that all the animal's strength lay in its horn, andthat when hard pressed in pursuit, it would throw itself from thepinnacle of the highest rocks horn foremost, so as to pitch uponit, and then quietly march off not a whit the worse for its fall. 

But it seems they found out how to circumvent the poor unicorn atlast. They discovered that it was a great lover of purity andinnocence, so they took the field with a young virgin, who wasplaced in the unsuspecting admirer's way. When the unicorn spiedher, he approached with all reverence, couched beside her, andlaying his head in her lap, fell asleep. The treacherous virginthen gave a signal, and the hunters made in and captured thesimple beast. 

Modern zoologists, disgusted as they well may be with such fablesas these, disbelieve generally the existence of the unicorn. Yetthere are animals bearing on their heads a bony protuberance moreor less like a horn, which may have given rise to the story. Therhinoceros horn, as it is called, is such a protuberance, thoughit does not exceed a few inches in height, and is far fromagreeing with the descriptions of the horn of the unicorn. Thenearest approach to a horn in the middle of the forehead isexhibited in the bony protuberance on the forehead of the giraffe;but this also is short and blunt, and is not the only horn of theanimal, but a third horn, standing in front of the two others. Infine, though it would be presumptuous to deny the existence of aone-horned quadruped other than the rhinoceros, it may be safelystated that the insertion of a long and solid horn in the livingforehead of a horse-like or deer-like animal is as near animpossibility as anything can be. 

THE SALAMANDER

The following is from the "Life of Benvenuto Cellini, " an Italianartist of the sixteenth century, written by himself: "When I wasabout five years of age, my father, happening to be in a littleroom in which they had been washing, and where there was a goodfire of oak burning, looked into the flames and saw a littleanimal resembling a lizard, which could live in the hottest partof that element. Instantly perceiving what it was, he called formy sister and me, and after he had shown us the creature, he gaveme a box on the ear. I fell a-crying, while he, soothing me withcaresses, spoke these words: 'My dear child, I do not give youthat blow for any fault you have committed, but that you mayrecollect that the little creature you see in the fire is asalamander; such a one as never was beheld before to myknowledge. ' So saying he embraced me, and gave me some money. "

It seems unreasonable to doubt a story of which Signor Cellini wasboth an eye and ear witness. Add to which the authority ofnumerous sage philosophers, at the head of whom are Aristotle andPliny, affirms this power of the salamander. According to them, the animal not only resists fire, but extinguishes it, and when hesees the flame charges it as an enemy which he well knows how tovanquish. 

That the skin of an animal which could resist the action of fireshould be considered proof against that element is not to bewondered at. We accordingly find that a cloth made of the skin ofsalamanders (for there really is such an animal, a kind of lizard)was incombustible, and very valuable for wrapping up such articlesas were too precious to be intrusted to any other envelopes. Thesefire-proof cloths were actually produced, said to be made ofsalamander's wool, though the knowing ones detected that thesubstance of which they were composed was asbestos, a mineral, which is in fine filaments capable of being woven into a flexiblecloth. 

The foundation of the above fables is supposed to be the fact thatthe salamander really does secrete from the pores of his body amilky juice, which when he is irritated is produced inconsiderable quantity, and would doubtless, for a few moments, defend the body from fire. Then it is a hibernating animal, and inwinter retires to some hollow tree or other cavity, where it coilsitself up and remains in a torpid state till the spring againcalls it forth. It may therefore sometimes be carried with thefuel to the fire, and wake up only time enough to put forth allits faculties for its defence. Its viscous juice would do goodservice, and all who profess to have seen it, acknowledge that itgot out of the fire as fast as its legs could carry it; indeed, too fast for them ever to make prize of one, except in oneinstance, and in that one the animal's feet and some parts of itsbody were badly burned. 

Dr. Young, in the "Night Thoughts, " with more quaintness than goodtaste, compares the sceptic who can remain unmoved in thecontemplation of the starry heavens to a salamander unwarmed inthe fire:

 "An undevout astronomer is mad!

 "O, what a genius must inform the skies! And is Lorenzo's salamander-heart Cold and untouched amid these sacred fires?"

CHAPTER XXXVII

EASTERN MYTHOLOGY--ZOROASTER--HINDU MYTHOLOGY--CASTES--BUDDHA--GRAND LAMA

ZOROASTER

Our knowledge of the religion of the ancient Persians isprincipally derived from the Zendavesta, or sacred books of thatpeople. Zoroaster was the founder of their religion, or rather thereformer of the religion which preceded him. The time when helived is doubtful, but it is certain that his system became thedominant religion of Western Asia from the time of Cyrus (550B. C. ) to the conquest of Persia by Alexander the Great. Under theMacedonian monarchy the doctrines of Zoroaster appear to have beenconsiderably corrupted by the introduction of foreign opinions, but they afterwards recovered their ascendency. 

Zoroaster taught the existence of a supreme being, who created twoother mighty beings and imparted to them as much of his own natureas seemed good to him. Of these, Ormuzd (called by the GreeksOromasdes) remained faithful to his creator, and was regarded asthe source of all good, while Ahriman (Arimanes) rebelled, andbecame the author of all evil upon the earth. Ormuzd created manand supplied him with all the materials of happiness; but Ahrimanmarred this happiness by introducing evil into the world, andcreating savage beasts and poisonous reptiles and plants. Inconsequence of this, evil and good are now mingled together inevery part of the world, and the followers of good and evil--theadherents of Ormuzd and Ahriman--carry on incessant war. But thisstate of things will not last forever. The time will come when theadherents of Ormuzd shall everywhere be victorious, and Ahrimanand his followers be consigned to darkness forever. 

The religious rites of the ancient Persians were exceedinglysimple. They used neither temples, altars, nor statues, andperformed their sacrifices on the tops of mountains. They adoredfire, light, and the sun as emblems of Ormuzd, the source of alllight and purity, but did not regard them as independent deities. The religious rites and ceremonies were regulated by the priests, who were called Magi. The learning of the Magi was connected withastrology and enchantment, in which they were so celebrated thattheir name was applied to all orders of magicians and enchanters. 

Wordsworth thus alludes to the worship of the Persians:

 "... The Persian, --zealous to reject Altar and Image, and the inclusive walls And roofs of temples built by human hands, -- The loftiest heights ascending, from their tops, With myrtle-wreathed Tiara on his brows, Presented sacrifice to Moon and Stars, And to the Winds and mother Elements, And the whole circle of the Heavens, for him A sensitive existence and a God. "

 --Excursion, Book IV. 

In "Childe Harold" Byron speaks thus of the Persian worship:

 "Not vainly did the early Persian make His altar the high places and the peak Of earth-o'er-gazing mountains, and thus take A fit and unwalled temple, there to seek The Spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak, Upreared of human hands. Come and compare Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek, With Nature's realms of worship, earth and air, Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer. "

III. , 91. 

The religion of Zoroaster continued to flourish even after theintroduction of Christianity, and in the third century was thedominant faith of the East, till the rise of the Mahometan powerand the conquest of Persia by the Arabs in the seventh century, who compelled the greater number of the Persians to renounce theirancient faith. Those who refused to abandon the religion of theirancestors fled to the deserts of Kerman and to Hindustan, wherethey still exist under the name of Parsees, a name derived fromPars, the ancient name of Persia. The Arabs call them Guebers, from an Arabic word signifying unbelievers. At Bombay the Parseesare at this day a very active, intelligent, and wealthy class. Forpurity of life, honesty, and conciliatory manners, they arefavorably distinguished. They have numerous temples to Fire, whichthey adore as the symbol of the divinity. 

The Persian religion makes the subject of the finest tale inMoore's "Lalla Rookh, " the "Fire Worshippers. " The Gueber chiefsays, "Yes! I am of that impious race, Those slaves of Fire, that morn and even Hail their creator's dwelling-place Among the living lights of heaven; Yes! I am of that outcast crew To Iran and to vengeance true, Who curse the hour your Arabs came To desecrate our shrines of flame, And swear before God's burning eye, To break our country's chains or die. "

HINDU MYTHOLOGY

The religion of the Hindus is professedly founded on the Vedas. Tothese books of their scripture they attach the greatest sanctity, and state that Brahma himself composed them at the creation. Butthe present arrangement of the Vedas is attributed to the sageVyasa, about five thousand years ago. 

The Vedas undoubtedly teach the belief of one supreme God. Thename of this deity is Brahma. His attributes are represented bythe three personified powers of creation, preservation, anddestruction, which under the respective names of Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva form the Trimurti or triad of principal Hindu gods. Ofthe inferior gods the most important are: 1. Indra, the god ofheaven, of thunder, lightning, storm, and rain; 2. Agni, the godof fire; 3. Yama, the god of the infernal regions; 4. Surya, thegod of the sun. 

Brahma is the creator of the universe, and the source from whichall the individual deities have sprung, and into which all willultimately be absorbed. "As milk changes to curd, and water toice, so is Brahma variously transformed and diversified, withoutaid of exterior means of any sort. " The human soul, according tothe Vedas, is a portion of the supreme ruler, as a spark is of thefire. 

VISHNU

Vishnu occupies the second place in the triad of the Hindus, andis the personification of the preserving principle. To protect theworld in various epochs of danger, Vishnu descended to the earthin different incarnations, or bodily forms, which descents arecalled Avatars. They are very numerous, but ten are moreparticularly specified. The first Avatar was as Matsya, the Fish, under which form Vishnu preserved Manu, the ancestor of the humanrace, during a universal deluge. The second Avatar was in the formof a Tortoise, which form he assumed to support the earth when thegods were churning the sea for the beverage of immortality, Amrita. 

We may omit the other Avatars, which were of the same generalcharacter, that is, interpositions to protect the right or topunish wrong-doers, and come to the ninth, which is the mostcelebrated of the Avatars of Vishnu, in which he appeared in thehuman form of Krishna, an invincible warrior, who by his exploitsrelieved the earth from the tyrants who oppressed it. 

Buddha is by the followers of the Brahmanical religion regarded asa delusive incarnation of Vishnu, assumed by him in order toinduce the Asuras, opponents of the gods, to abandon the sacredordinances of the Vedas, by which means they lost their strengthand supremacy. 

Kalki is the name of the tenth Avatar, in which Vishnu will appearat the end of the present age of the world to destroy all vice andwickedness, and to restore mankind to virtue and purity. 

SIVA

Siva is the third person of the Hindu triad. He is thepersonification of the destroying principle. Though the thirdname, he is, in respect to the number of his worshippers and theextension of his worship, before either of the others. In thePuranas (the scriptures of the modern Hindu religion) no allusionis made to the original power of this god as a destroyer; thatpower not being to be called into exercise till after theexpiration of twelve millions of years, or when the universe willcome to an end; and Mahadeva (another name for Siva) is rather therepresentative of regeneration than of destruction. 

The worshippers of Vishnu and Siva form two sects, each of whichproclaims the superiority of its favorite deity, denying theclaims of the other, and Brahma, the creator, having finished hiswork, seems to be regarded as no longer active, and has now onlyone temple in India, while Mahadeva and Vishnu have many. Theworshippers of Vishnu are generally distinguished by a greatertenderness for life, and consequent abstinence from animal food, and a worship less cruel than that of the followers of Siva. 

JUGGERNAUT

Whether the worshippers of Juggernaut are to be reckoned among thefollowers of Vishnu or Siva, our authorities differ. The templestands near the shore, about three hundred miles south-west ofCalcutta. The idol is a carved block of wood, with a hideous face, painted black, and a distended blood-red mouth. On festival daysthe throne of the image is placed on a tower sixty feet high, moving on wheels. Six long ropes are attached to the tower, bywhich the people draw it along. The priests and their attendantsstand round the throne on the tower, and occasionally turn to theworshippers with songs and gestures. While the tower moves alongnumbers of the devout worshippers throw themselves on the ground, in order to be crushed by the wheels, and the multitude shout inapprobation of the act, as a pleasing sacrifice to the idol. Everyyear, particularly at two great festivals in March and July, pilgrims flock in crowds to the temple. Not less than seventy oreighty thousand people are said to visit the place on theseoccasions, when all castes eat together. 

CASTES

The division of the Hindus into classes or castes, with fixedoccupations, existed from the earliest times. It is supposed bysome to have been founded upon conquest, the first three castesbeing composed of a foreign race, who subdued the natives of thecountry and reduced them to an inferior caste. Others trace it tothe fondness of perpetuating, by descent from father to son, certain offices or occupations. 

The Hindu tradition gives the following account of the origin ofthe various castes: At the creation Brahma resolved to give theearth inhabitants who should be direct emanations from his ownbody. Accordingly from his mouth came forth the eldest born, Brahma (the priest), to whom he confided the four Vedas; from hisright arm issued Shatriya (the warrior), and from his left, thewarrior's wife. His thighs produced Vaissyas, male and female(agriculturists and traders), and lastly from his feet sprangSudras (mechanics and laborers). 

The four sons of Brahma, so significantly brought into the world, became the fathers of the human race, and heads of theirrespective castes. They were commanded to regard the four Vedas ascontaining all the rules of their faith, and all that wasnecessary to guide them in their religious ceremonies. They werealso commanded to take rank in the order of their birth, theBrahmans uppermost, as having sprung from the head of Brahma. 

A strong line of demarcation is drawn between the first threecastes and the Sudras. The former are allowed to receiveinstruction from the Vedas, which is not permitted to the Sudras. The Brahmans possess the privilege of teaching the Vedas, and werein former times in exclusive possession of all knowledge. Thoughthe sovereign of the country was chosen from the Shatriya class, also called Rajputs, the Brahmans possessed the real power, andwere the royal counsellors, the judges and magistrates of thecountry; their persons and property were inviolable; and thoughthey committed the greatest crimes, they could only be banishedfrom the kingdom. They were to be treated by sovereigns with thegreatest respect, for "a Brahman, whether learned or ignorant, isa powerful divinity. "

When the Brahman arrives at years of maturity it becomes his dutyto marry. He ought to be supported by the contributions of therich, and not to be obliged to gain his subsistence by anylaborious or productive occupation. But as all the Brahmans couldnot be maintained by the working classes of the community, it wasfound necessary to allow them to engage in productive employments. 

We need say little of the two intermediate classes, whose rank andprivileges may be readily inferred from their occupations. TheSudras or fourth class are bound to servile attendance on thehigher classes, especially the Brahmans, but they may followmechanical occupations and practical arts, as painting andwriting, or become traders or husbandmen. Consequently theysometimes grow rich, and it will also sometimes happen thatBrahmans become poor. That fact works its usual consequence, andrich Sudras sometimes employ poor Brahmans in menial occupations. 

There is another class lower even than the Sudras, for it is notone of the original pure classes, but springs from an unauthorizedunion of individuals of different castes. These are the Pariahs, who are employed in the lowest services and treated with theutmost severity. They are compelled to do what no one else can dowithout pollution. They are not only considered uncleanthemselves, but they render unclean everything they touch. Theyare deprived of all civil rights, and stigmatized by particularlaws regulating their mode of life, their houses, and theirfurniture. They are not allowed to visit the pagodas or temples ofthe other castes, but have their own pagodas and religiousexercises. They are not suffered to enter the houses of the othercastes; if it is done incautiously or from necessity, the placemust be purified by religious ceremonies. They must not appear atpublic markets, and are confined to the use of particular wells, which they are obliged to surround with bones of animals, to warnothers against using them. They dwell in miserable hovels, distantfrom cities and villages, and are under no restrictions in regardto food, which last is not a privilege, but a mark of ignominy, asif they were so degraded that nothing could pollute them. Thethree higher castes are prohibited entirely the use of flesh. Thefourth is allowed to use all kinds except beef, but only thelowest caste is allowed every kind of food without restriction. 

BUDDHA

Buddha, whom the Vedas represent as a delusive incarnation ofVishnu, is said by his followers to have been a mortal sage, whosename was Gautama, called also by the complimentary epithets ofSakyasinha, the Lion, and Buddha, the Sage. 

By a comparison of the various epochs assigned to his birth, it isinferred that he lived about one thousand years before Christ. 

He was the son of a king; and when in conformity to the usage ofthe country he was, a few days after his birth, presented beforethe altar of a deity, the image is said to have inclined its headas a presage of the future greatness of the new-born prophet. Thechild soon developed faculties of the first order, and becameequally distinguished by the uncommon beauty of his person. Nosooner had he grown to years of maturity than he began to reflectdeeply on the depravity and misery of mankind, and he conceivedthe idea of retiring from society and devoting himself tomeditation. His father in vain opposed this design. Buddha escapedthe vigilance of his guards, and having found a secure retreat, lived for six years undisturbed in his devout contemplations. Atthe expiration of that period he came forward at Benares as areligious teacher. At first some who heard him doubted of thesoundness of his mind; but his doctrines soon gained credit, andwere propagated so rapidly that Buddha himself lived to see themspread all over India. He died at the age of eighty years. 

The Buddhists reject entirely the authority of the Vedas, and thereligious observances prescribed in them and kept by the Hindus. They also reject the distinction of castes, and prohibit allbloody sacrifices, and allow animal food. Their priests are chosenfrom all classes; they are expected to procure their maintenanceby perambulation and begging, and among other things it is theirduty to endeavor to turn to some use things thrown aside asuseless by others, and to discover the medicinal power of plants. But in Ceylon three orders of priests are recognized; those of thehighest order are usually men of high birth and learning, and aresupported at the principal temples, most of which have been richlyendowed by the former monarchs of the country. 

For several centuries after the appearance of Buddha, his sectseems to have been tolerated by the Brahmans, and Buddhism appearsto have penetrated the peninsula of Hindustan in every direction, and to have been carried to Ceylon, and to the eastern peninsula. But afterwards it had to endure in India a long-continuedpersecution, which ultimately had the effect of entirelyabolishing it in the country where it had originated, but toscatter it widely over adjacent countries. Buddhism appears tohave been introduced into China about the year 65 of our era. FromChina it was subsequently extended to Corea, Japan, and Java. 

THE GRAND LAMA

It is a doctrine alike of the Brahminical Hindus and of theBuddhist sect that the confinement of the human soul, an emanationof the divine spirit, in a human body, is a state of misery, andthe consequence of frailties and sins committed during formerexistences. But they hold that some few individuals have appearedon this earth from time to time, not under the necessity ofterrestrial existence, but who voluntarily descended to the earthto promote the welfare of mankind. These individuals havegradually assumed the character of reappearances of Buddhahimself, in which capacity the line is continued till the presentday, in the several Lamas of Thibet, China, and other countrieswhere Buddhism prevails. In consequence of the victories of GengisKhan and his successors, the Lama residing in Thibet was raised tothe dignity of chief pontiff of the sect. A separate province wasassigned to him as his own territory, and besides his spiritualdignity he became to a limited extent a temporal monarch. He isstyled the Dalai Lama. 

The first Christian missionaries who proceeded to Thibet weresurprised to find there in the heart of Asia a pontifical courtand several other ecclesiastical institutions resembling those ofthe Roman Catholic church. They found convents for priests andnuns; also processions and forms of religious worship, attendedwith much pomp and splendor; and many were induced by thesesimilarities to consider Lamaism as a sort of degeneratedChristianity. It is not improbable that the Lamas derived some ofthese practices from the Nestorian Christians, who were settled inTartary when Buddhism was introduced into Thibet. 

PRESTER JOHN

An early account, communicated probably by travelling merchants, of a Lama or spiritual chief among the Tartars, seems to haveoccasioned in Europe the report of a Presbyter or Prester John, aChristian pontiff resident in Upper Asia. The Pope sent a missionin search of him, as did also Louis IX. Of France, some yearslater, but both missions were unsuccessful, though the smallcommunities of Nestorian Christians, which they did find, servedto keep up the belief in Europe that such a personage did existsomewhere in the East. At last in the fifteenth century, aPortuguese traveller, Pedro Covilham, happening to hear that therewas a Christian prince in the country of the Abessines(Abyssinia), not far from the Red Sea, concluded that this must bethe true Prester John. He accordingly went thither, and penetratedto the court of the king, whom he calls Negus. Milton alludes tohim in "Paradise Lost, " Book XI. , where, describing Adam's visionof his descendants in their various nations and cities, scatteredover the face of the earth, he says, --

 "... Nor did his eyes not ken Th' empire of Negus, to his utmost port, Ercoco, and the less maritime kings, Mombaza and Quiloa and Melind. "

CHAPTER XXXVIII

NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY--VALHALLA--THE VALKYRIOR

NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY

The stories which have engaged our attention thus far relate tothe mythology of southern regions. But there is another branch ofancient superstitions which ought not to be entirely overlooked, especially as it belongs to the nations from which we, through ourEnglish ancestors, derive our origin. It is that of the northernnations, called Scandinavians, who inhabited the countries nowknown as Sweden, Denmark, Norway, and Iceland. These mythologicalrecords are contained in two collections called the Eddas, ofwhich the oldest is in poetry and dates back to the year 1056, themore modern or prose Edda being of the date of 1640. 

According to the Eddas there was once no heaven above nor earthbeneath, but only a bottomless deep, and a world of mist in whichflowed a fountain. Twelve rivers issued from this fountain, andwhen they had flowed far from their source, they froze into ice, and one layer accumulating over another, the great deep was filledup. 

Southward from the world of mist was the world of light. From thisflowed a warm wind upon the ice and melted it. The vapors rose inthe air and formed clouds, from which sprang Ymir, the Frost giantand his progeny, and the cow Audhumbla, whose milk affordednourishment and food to the giant. The cow got nourishment bylicking the hoar frost and salt from the ice. While she was oneday licking the salt stones there appeared at first the hair of aman, on the second day the whole head, and on the third the entireform endowed with beauty, agility, and power. This new being was agod, from whom and his wife, a daughter of the giant race, sprangthe three brothers Odin, Vili, and Ve. They slew the giant Ymir, and out of his body formed the earth, of his blood the seas, ofhis bones the mountains, of his hair the trees, of his skull theheavens, and of his brain clouds, charged with hail and snow. OfYmir's eyebrows the gods formed Midgard (mid earth), destined tobecome the abode of man. 

Odin then regulated the periods of day and night and the seasonsby placing in the heavens the sun and moon and appointing to themtheir respective courses. As soon as the sun began to shed itsrays upon the earth, it caused the vegetable world to bud andsprout. Shortly after the gods had created the world they walkedby the side of the sea, pleased with their new work, but foundthat it was still incomplete, for it was without human beings. They therefore took an ash tree and made a man out of it, and theymade a woman out of an elder, and called the man Aske and thewoman Embla. Odin then gave them life and soul, Vili reason andmotion, and Ve bestowed upon them the senses, expressive features, and speech. Midgard was then given them as their residence, andthey became the progenitors of the human race. 

The mighty ash tree Ygdrasill was supposed to support the wholeuniverse. It sprang from the body of Ymir, and had three immenseroots, extending one into Asgard (the dwelling of the gods), theother into Jotunheim (the abode of the giants), and the third toNiffleheim (the regions of darkness and cold). By the side of eachof these roots is a spring, from which it is watered. The rootthat extends into Asgard is carefully tended by the three Norns, goddesses, who are regarded as the dispensers of fate. They areUrdur (the past), Verdandi (the present), Skuld (the future). Thespring at the Jotunheim side is Ymir's well, in which wisdom andwit lie hidden, but that of Niffleheim feeds the adder Nidhogge(darkness), which perpetually gnaws at the root. Four harts runacross the branches of the tree and bite the buds; they representthe four winds. Under the tree lies Ymir, and when he tries toshake off its weight the earth quakes. 

Asgard is the name of the abode of the gods, access to which isonly gained by crossing the bridge Bifrost (the rainbow). Asgardconsists of golden and silver palaces, the dwellings of the gods, but the most beautiful of these is Valhalla, the residence ofOdin. When seated on his throne he overlooks all heaven and earth. Upon his shoulders are the ravens Hugin and Munin, who fly everyday over the whole world, and on their return report to him allthey have seen and heard. At his feet lie his two wolves, Geri andFreki, to whom Odin gives all the meat that is set before him, forhe himself stands in no need of food. Mead is for him both foodand drink. He invented the Runic characters, and it is thebusiness of the Norns to engrave the runes of fate upon a metalshield. From Odin's name, spelt Woden, as it sometimes is, cameWednesday, the name of the fourth day of the week. 

Odin is frequently called Alfadur (All-father), but this name issometimes used in a way that shows that the Scandinavians had anidea of a deity superior to Odin, uncreated and eternal. 

OF THE JOYS OF VALHALLA

Valhalla is the great hall of Odin, wherein he feasts with hischosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely in battle, forall who die a peaceful death are excluded. The flesh of the boarSchrimnir is served up to them, and is abundant for all. Foralthough this boar is cooked every morning, he becomes whole againevery night. For drink the heroes are supplied abundantly withmead from the she-goat Heidrum. When the heroes are not feastingthey amuse themselves with fighting. Every day they ride out intothe court or field and fight until they cut each other in pieces. This is their pastime; but when meal time comes they recover fromtheir wounds and return to feast in Valhalla. 

THE VALKYRIE

The Valkyrie are warlike virgins, mounted upon horses and armedwith helmets and spears. Odin, who is desirous to collect a greatmany heroes in Valhalla to be able to meet the giants in a daywhen the final contest must come, sends down to every battle-fieldto make choice of those who shall be slain. The Valkyrie are hismessengers, and their name means "Choosers of the slain. " Whenthey ride forth on their errand, their armor sheds a strangeflickering light, which flashes up over the northern skies, makingwhat men call the "Aurora Borealis, " or "Northern Lights. "[Footnote: Gray's ode, "The Fatal Sisters, " is founded on thissuperstition. ]

OF THOR AND THE OTHER GODS

Thor, the thunderer, Odin's eldest son, is the strongest of godsand men, and possesses three very precious things. The first is ahammer, which both the Frost and the Mountain giants know to theircost, when they see it hurled against them in the air, for it hassplit many a skull of their fathers and kindred. When thrown, itreturns to his hand of its own accord. The second rare thing hepossesses is called the belt of strength. When he girds it abouthim his divine might is doubled. The third, also very precious, ishis iron gloves, which he puts on whenever he would use his malletefficiently. From Thor's name is derived our word Thursday. 

Frey is one of the most celebrated of the gods. He presides overrain and sunshine and all the fruits of the earth. His sisterFreya is the most propitious of the goddesses. She loves music, spring, and flowers, and is particularly fond of the Elves(fairies). She is very fond of love ditties, and all lovers woulddo well to invoke her. 

Bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds ofwarriors. His wife, Iduna, keeps in a box the apples which thegods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of tobecome young again. 

Heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is therefore placed onthe borders of heaven to prevent the giants from forcing their wayover the bridge Bifrost (the rainbow). He requires less sleep thana bird, and sees by night as well as by day a hundred miles aroundhim. So acute is his ear that no sound escapes him, for he caneven hear the grass grow and the wool on a sheep's back. 

OF LOKI AND HIS PROGENY

There is another deity who is described as the calumniator of thegods and the contriver of all fraud and mischief. His name isLoki. He is handsome and well made, but of a very fickle mood andmost evil disposition. He is of the giant race, but forced himselfinto the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure inbringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them out ofthe danger by his cunning, wit, and skill. Loki has threechildren. The first is the wolf Fenris, the second the Midgardserpent, the third Hela (Death), The gods were not ignorant thatthese monsters were growing up, and that they would one day bringmuch evil upon gods and men. So Odin deemed it advisable to sendone to bring them to him. When they came he threw the serpent intothat deep ocean by which the earth is surrounded. But the monsterhad grown to such an enormous size that holding his tail in hismouth he encircles the whole earth. Hela he cast into Niffleheim, and gave her power over nine worlds or regions, into which shedistributes those who are sent to her; that is, all who die ofsickness or old age. Her hall is called Elvidner. Hunger is hertable, Starvation her knife, Delay her man, Slowness her maid, Precipice her threshold, Care her bed, and Burning Anguish formsthe hangings of the apartments. She may easily be recognized, forher body is half flesh color and half blue, and she has adreadfully stern and forbidding countenance. The wolf Fenris gavethe gods a great deal of trouble before they succeeded in chaininghim. He broke the strongest fetters as if they were made ofcobwebs. Finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountainspirits, who made for them the chain called Gleipnir. It isfashioned of six things, viz. , the noise made by the footfall of acat, the beards of women, the roots of stones, the breath offishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of bears, and the spittle ofbirds. When finished it was as smooth and soft as a silken string. But when the gods asked the wolf to suffer himself to be boundwith this apparently slight ribbon, he suspected their design, fearing that it was made by enchantment. He therefore onlyconsented to be bound with it upon condition that one of the godsput his hand in his (Fenris's) mouth as a pledge that the band wasto be removed again. Tyr (the god of battles) alone had courageenough to do this. But when the wolf found that he could not breakhis fetters, and that the gods would not release him, he bit offTyr's hand, and he has ever since remained one-handed. HOW THORPAID THE MOUNTAIN GIANT HIS WAGES

Once on a time, when the gods were constructing their abodes andhad already finished Midgard and Valhalla, a certain artificercame and offered to build them a residence so well fortified thatthey should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the Frostgiants and the giants of the mountains. But he demanded for hisreward the goddess Freya, together with the sun and moon. The godsyielded to his terms, provided he would finish the whole workhimself without any one's assistance, and all within the space ofone winter. But if anything remained unfinished on the first dayof summer he should forfeit the recompense agreed on. On beingtold these terms the artificer stipulated that he should beallowed the use of his horse Svadilfari, and this by the advice ofLoki was granted to him. He accordingly set to work on the firstday of winter, and during the night let his horse draw stone forthe building. The enormous size of the stones struck the gods withastonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse did one-halfmore of the toilsome work than his master. Their bargain, however, had been concluded, and confirmed by solemn oaths, for withoutthese precautions a giant would not have thought himself safeamong the gods, especially when Thor should return from anexpedition he had then undertaken against the evil demons. 

As the winter drew to a close, the building was far advanced, andthe bulwarks were sufficiently high and massive to render theplace impregnable. In short, when it wanted but three days tosummer, the only part that remained to be finished was thegateway. Then sat the gods on their seats of justice and enteredinto consultation, inquiring of one another who among them couldhave advised to give Freya away, or to plunge the heavens indarkness by permitting the giant to carry away the sun and themoon. 

They all agreed that no one but Loki, the author of so many evildeeds, could have given such bad counsel, and that he should beput to a cruel death if he did not contrive some way to preventthe artificer from completing his task and obtaining thestipulated recompense. They proceeded to lay hands on Loki, who inhis fright promised upon oath that, let it cost him what it would, he would so manage matters that the man should lose his reward. That very night when the man went with Svadilfari for buildingstone, a mare suddenly ran out of a forest and began to neigh. Thehorse thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the forest, which obliged the man also to run after his horse, and thusbetween one and another the whole night was lost, so that at dawnthe work had not made the usual progress. The man, seeing that hemust fail of completing his task, resumed his own giganticstature, and the gods now clearly perceived that it was in realitya mountain giant who had come amongst them. Feeling no longerbound by their oaths, they called on Thor, who immediately ran totheir assistance, and lifting up his mallet, paid the workman hiswages, not with the sun and moon, and not even by sending him backto Jotunheim, for with the first blow he shattered the giant'sskull to pieces and hurled him headlong into Niffleheim. 

THE RECOVERY OF THE HAMMER

Once upon a time it happened that Thor's hammer fell into thepossession of the giant Thrym, who buried it eight fathoms deepunder the rocks of Jotunheim. Thor sent Loki to negotiate withThrym, but he could only prevail so far as to get the giant'spromise to restore the weapon if Freya would consent to be hisbride. Loki returned and reported the result of his mission, butthe goddess of love was quite horrified at the idea of bestowingher charms on the king of the Frost giants. In this emergency Lokipersuaded Thor to dress himself in Freya's clothes and accompanyhim to Jotunheim. Thrym received his veiled bride with duecourtesy, but was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for hersupper eight salmons and a full grown ox, besides otherdelicacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of mead. Loki, however, assured him that she had not tasted anything for eightlong nights, so great was her desire to see her lover, therenowned ruler of Jotunheim. Thrym had at length the curiosity topeep under his bride's veil, but started back in affright anddemanded why Freya's eyeballs glistened with fire. Loki repeatedthe same excuse and the giant was satisfied. He ordered the hammerto be brought in and laid on the maiden's lap. Thereupon Thorthrew off his disguise, grasped his redoubted weapon, andslaughtered Thrym and all his followers. 

Frey also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword which would ofitself spread a field with carnage whenever the owner desired it. Frey parted with this sword, but was less fortunate than Thor andnever recovered it. It happened in this way: Frey once mountedOdin's throne, from whence one can see over the whole universe, and looking round saw far off in the giant's kingdom a beautifulmaid, at the sight of whom he was struck with sudden sadness, insomuch that from that moment he could neither sleep, nor drink, nor speak. At last Skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret fromhim, and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if hewould give him his sword as a reward. Frey consented and gave himthe sword, and Skirnir set off on his journey and obtained themaiden's promise that within nine nights she would come to acertain place and there wed Frey. Skirnir having reported thesuccess of his errand, Frey exclaimed:

 "Long is one night, Long are two nights, But how shall I hold out three? Shorter hath seemed A month to me oft Than of this longing time the half. "

So Frey obtained Gerda, the most beautiful of all women, for hiswife, but he lost his sword. 

This story, entitled "Skirnir For, " and the one immediatelypreceding it, "Thrym's Quida, " will be found poetically told inLongfellow's "Poets and Poetry of Europe. "

CHAPTER XXXIX

THOR'S VISIT TO JOTUNHEIM

THOR'S VISIT TO JOTUNHEIM, THE GIANT'S COUNTRY

One day the god Thor, with his servant Thialfi, and accompanied byLoki, set out on a journey to the giant's country. Thialfi was ofall men the swiftest of foot. He bore Thor's wallet, containingtheir provisions. When night came on they found themselves in animmense forest, and searched on all sides for a place where theymight pass the night, and at last came to a very large hall, withan entrance that took the whole breadth of one end of thebuilding. Here they lay down to sleep, but towards midnight werealarmed by an earthquake which shook the whole edifice. Thor, rising up, called on his companions to seek with him a place ofsafety. On the right they found an adjoining chamber, into whichthe others entered, but Thor remained at the doorway with hismallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself, whatever mighthappen. A terrible groaning was heard during the night, and atdawn of day Thor went out and found lying near him a huge giant, who slept and snored in the way that had alarmed them so. It issaid that for once Thor was afraid to use his mallet, and as thegiant soon waked up, Thor contented himself with simply asking hisname. 

"My name is Skrymir, " said the giant, "but I need not ask thyname, for I know that thou art the god Thor. But what has becomeof my glove?" Thor then perceived that what they had takenovernight for a hall was the giant's glove, and the chamber wherehis two companions had sought refuge was the thumb. Skrymir thenproposed that they should travel in company, and Thor consenting, they sat down to eat their breakfast, and when they had done, Skrymir packed all the provisions into one wallet, threw it overhis shoulder, and strode on before them, taking such tremendousstrides that they were hard put to it to keep up with him. So theytravelled the whole day, and at dusk Skrymir chose a place forthem to pass the night in under a large oak tree. Skrymir thentold them he would lie down to sleep. "But take ye the wallet, " headded, "and prepare your supper. "

Skrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly; but whenThor tried to open the wallet, he found the giant had tied it upso tight he could not untie a single knot. At last Thor becamewroth, and grasping his mallet with both hands he struck a furiousblow on the giant's head. Skrymir, awakening, merely asked whethera leaf had not fallen on his head, and whether they had supped andwere ready to go to sleep. Thor answered that they were just goingto sleep, and so saying went and laid himself down under anothertree. But sleep came not that night to Thor, and when Skrymirsnored again so loud that the forest reechoed with the noise, hearose, and grasping his mallet launched it with such force at thegiant's skull that it made a deep dint in it. Skrymir, awakening, cried out, "What's the matter? Are there any birds perched on thistree? I felt some moss from the branches fall on my head. Howfares it with thee, Thor?" But Thor went away hastily, saying thathe had just then awoke, and that as it was only midnight, therewas still time for sleep. He, however, resolved that if he had anopportunity of striking a third blow, it should settle all mattersbetween them. A little before daybreak he perceived that Skrymirwas again fast asleep, and again grasping his mallet, he dashed itwith such violence that it forced its way into the giant's skullup to the handle. But Skrymir sat up, and stroking his cheek said, "An acorn fell on my head. What! Art thou awake, Thor? Me thinksit is time for us to get up and dress ourselves; but you have notnow a long way before you to the city called Utgard. I have heardyou whispering to one another that I am not a man of smalldimensions; but if you come to Utgard you will see there many menmuch taller than I. Wherefore, I advise you, when you come there, not to make too much of yourselves, for the followers of Utgard--Loki will not brook the boasting of such little fellows as youare. You must take the road that leads eastward, mine liesnorthward, so we must part here. "

Hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders and turned awayfrom them into the forest, and Thor had no wish to stop him or toask for any more of his company. 

Thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and towards noondescried a city standing in the middle of a plain. It was so loftythat they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on theirshoulders in order to see to the top of it. On arriving theyentered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with thedoor wide open, they went in, and found a number of men ofprodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall. Going further, they came before the king, Utgard-Loki, whom they saluted withgreat respect. The king, regarding them with a scornful smile, said, "If I do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must be thegod Thor. " Then addressing himself to Thor, he said, "Perhaps thoumayst be more than thou appearest to be. What are the feats thatthou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in, for no one ispermitted to remain here who does not, in some feat or other, excel all other men?"

"The feat that I know, " said Loki, "is to eat quicker than any oneelse, and in this I am ready to give a proof against any one herewho may choose to compete with me. "

"That will indeed be a feat, " said Utgard-Loki, "if thouperformest what thou promisest, and it shall be tried forthwith. "

He then ordered one of his men who was sitting at the farther endof the bench, and whose name was Logi, to come forward and try hisskill with Loki. A trough filled with meat having been set on thehall floor, Loki placed himself at one end, and Logi at the other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could, until they metin the middle of the trough. But it was found that Loki had onlyeaten the flesh, while his adversary had devoured both flesh andbone, and the trough to boot. All the company therefore adjudgedthat Loki was vanquished. 

Utgard-Loki then asked what feat the young man who accompaniedThor could perform. Thialfi answered that he would run a race withany one who might be matched against him. The king observed thatskill in running was something to boast of, but if the youth wouldwin the match he must display great agility. He then arose andwent with all who were present to a plain where there was goodground for running on, and calling a young man named Hugi, badehim run a match with Thialfi. In the first course Hugi so muchout-stripped his competitor that he turned back and met him notfar from the starting place. Then they ran a second and a thirdtime, but Thialfi met with no better success. 

Utgard-Loki then asked Thor in what feats he would choose to giveproofs of that prowess for which he was so famous. Thor answeredthat he would try a drinking-match with any one. Utgard-Loki badehis cup-bearer bring the large horn which his followers wereobliged to empty when they had trespassed in any way against thelaw of the feast. The cupbearer having presented it to Thor, Utgard-Loki said, "Whoever is a good drinker will empty that hornat a single draught, though most men make two of it, but the mostpuny drinker can do it in three. "

Thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no extraordinary sizethough somewhat long; however, as he was very thirsty, he set itto his lips, and without drawing breath, pulled as long and asdeeply as he could, that he might not be obliged to make a seconddraught of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in, hecould scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished. 

After taking breath, Thor went to it again with all his might, butwhen he took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that he haddrunk rather less than before, although the horn could now becarried without spilling. 

"How now, Thor?" said Utgard-Loki; "thou must not spare thyself;if thou meanest to drain the horn at the third draught thou mustpull deeply; and I must needs say that thou wilt not be called somighty a man here as thou art at home if thou showest no greaterprowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in this. "

Thor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips, and did hisbest to empty it; but on looking in found the liquor was only alittle lower, so he resolved to make no further attempt, but gaveback the horn to the cup-bearer. 

"I now see plainly, " said Utgard-Loki, "that thou art not quite sostout as we thought thee: but wilt thou try any other feat, thoughmethinks thou art not likely to bear any prize away with theehence. "

"What new trial hast thou to propose?" said Thor. 

"We have a very trifling game here, " answered Utgard-Loki, "inwhich we exercise none but children. It consists in merely liftingmy cat from the ground; nor should I have dared to mention such afeat to the great Thor if I had not already observed that thou artby no means what we took thee for. "

As he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on the hallfloor. Thor put his hand under the cat's belly and did his utmostto raise him from the floor, but the cat, bending his back, had, notwithstanding all Thor's efforts, only one of his feet liftedup, seeing which Thor made no further attempt. 

"This trial has turned out, " said Utgard-Loki, "just as I imaginedit would. The cat is large, but Thor is little in comparison toour men. "

"Little as ye call me, " answered Thor, "let me see who among youwill come hither now I am in wrath and wrestle with me. "

"I see no one here, " said Utgard-Loki, looking at the men sittingon the benches, "who would not think it beneath him to wrestlewith thee; let somebody, however, call hither that old crone, mynurse Elli, and let Thor wrestle with her if he will. She hasthrown to the ground many a man not less strong than this Thoris. "

A toothless old woman then entered the hall, and was told byUtgard-Loki to take hold of Thor. The tale is shortly told. Themore Thor tightened his hold on the crone the firmer she stood. Atlength after a very violent struggle Thor began to lose hisfooting, and was finally brought down upon one knee. Utgard-Lokithen told them to desist, adding that Thor had now no occasion toask any one else in the hall to wrestle with him, and it was alsogetting late; so he showed Thor and his companions to their seats, and they passed the night there in good cheer. 

The next morning, at break of day, Thor and his companions dressedthemselves and prepared for their departure. Utgard-Loki ordered atable to be set for them, on which there was no lack of victualsor drink. After the repast Utgard-Loki led them to the gate of thecity, and on parting asked Thor how he thought his journey hadturned out, and whether he had met with any men stronger thanhimself. Thor told him that he could not deny but that he hadbrought great shame on himself. "And what grieves me most, " headded, "is that ye will call me a person of little worth. "

"Nay, " said Utgard-Loki, "it behooves me to tell thee the truth, now thou art out of the city, which so long as I live and have myway thou shalt never enter again. And, by my troth, had I knownbeforehand that thou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldsthave brought me so near to a great mishap, I would not havesuffered thee to enter this time. Know then that I have all alongdeceived thee by my illusions; first in the forest, where I tiedup the wallet with iron wire so that thou couldst not untie it. After this thou gavest me three blows with thy mallet; the first, though the least, would have ended my days had it fallen on me, but I slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain, where thouwilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep. These are thedints made by thy mallet. I have made use of similar illusions inthe contests you have had with my followers. In the first, Loki, like hunger itself, devoured all that was set before him, but Logiwas in reality nothing else than Fire, and therefore consumed notonly the meat, bat the trough which held it. Hugi, with whomThialfi contended in running, was Thought, and it was impossiblefor Thialfi to keep pace with that. When thou in thy turn didstattempt to empty the horn, thou didst perform, by my troth, a deedso marvellous that had I not seen it myself I should never havebelieved it. For one end of that horn reached the sea, which thouwast not aware of, but when thou comest to the shore thou wiltperceive how much the sea has sunk by thy draughts. Thou didstperform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat, and totell thee the truth, when we saw that one of his paws was off thefloor, we were all of us terror-stricken, for what thou tookestfor a cat was in reality the Midgard serpent that encompasseth theearth, and he was so stretched by thee that he was barely longenough to enclose it between his head and tail. Thy wrestling withElli was also a most astonishing feat, for there was never yet aman, nor ever will be, whom Old Age, for such in fact was Elli, will not sooner or later lay low. But now, as we are going topart, let me tell thee that it will be better for both of us ifthou never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, I shallagain defend myself by other illusions, so that thou wilt onlylose thy labor and get no fame from the contest with me. "

On hearing these words Thor in a rage laid hold of his mallet andwould have launched it at him, but Utgard-Loki had disappeared, and when Thor would have returned to the city to destroy it, hefound nothing around him but a verdant plain. 

CHAPTER XL

THE DEATH OF BALDUR--THE ELVES--RUNIC LETTERS--ICELAND--TEUTONICMYTHOLOGY--NIBELUNGEN LIED

THE DEATH OF BALDUR

Baldur the Good, having been tormented with terrible dreamsindicating that his life was in peril, told them to the assembledgods, who resolved to conjure all things to avert from him thethreatened danger. Then Frigga, the wife of Odin, exacted an oathfrom fire and water, from iron and all other metals, from stones, trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping things, thatnone of them would do any harm to Baldur. Odin, not satisfied withall this, and feeling alarmed for the fate of his son, determinedto consult the prophetess Angerbode, a giantess, mother of Fenris, Hela, and the Midgard serpent. She was dead, and Odin was forcedto seek her in Hela's dominions. This Descent of Odin forms thesubject of Gray's fine ode beginning, --

 "Uprose the king of men with speed And saddled straight his coal-black steed"

But the other gods, feeling that what Frigga had done was quitesufficient, amused themselves with using Baldur as a mark, somehurling darts at him, some stones, while others hewed at him withtheir swords and battle-axes; for do what they would, none of themcould harm him. And this became a favorite pastime with them andwas regarded as an honor shown to Baldur. But when Loki beheld thescene he was sorely vexed that Baldur was not hurt. Assuming, therefore, the shape of a woman, he went to Fensalir, the man-sion of Frigga. That goddess, when she saw the pretended woman, inquired of her if she knew what the gods were doing at theirmeetings. She replied that they were throwing darts and stones atBaldur, without being able to hurt him. "Ay, " said Frigga, "neither stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt Baldur, for I have exacted an oath from all of them. " "What, " exclaimedthe woman, "have all things sworn to spare Baldur?" "All things, "replied Frigga, "except one little shrub that grows on the easternside of Valhalla, and is called Mistletoe, and which I thought tooyoung and feeble to crave an oath from. "

As soon as Loki heard this he went away, and resuming his naturalshape, cut off the mistletoe, and repaired to the place where thegods were assembled. There he found Hodur standing apart, withoutpartaking of the sports, on account of his blindness, and going upto him, said, "Why dost thou not also throw something at Baldur?"

"Because I am blind, " answered Hodur, "and see not where Balduris, and have, moreover, nothing to throw. "

"Come, then, " said Loki, "do like the rest, and show honor toBaldur by throwing this twig at him, and I will direct thy armtowards the place where he stands. "

Hodur then took the mistletoe, and under the guidance of Loki, darted it at Baldur, who, pierced through and through, fell downlifeless. Surely never was there witnessed, either among gods ormen, a more atrocious deed than this. When Baldur fell, the godswere struck speechless with horror, and then they looked at eachother, and all were of one mind to lay hands on him who had donethe deed, but they were obliged to delay their vengeance out ofrespect for the sacred place where they were assembled. They gavevent to their grief by loud lamentations. When the gods came tothemselves, Frigga asked who among them wished to gain all herlove and good will. "For this, " said she, "shall he have who willride to Hel and offer Hela a ransom if she will let Baldur returnto Asgard. " Whereupon Hermod, surnamed the Nimble, the son ofOdin, offered to undertake the journey. Odin's horse, Sleipnir, which has eight legs and can outrun the wind, was then led forth, on which Hermod mounted and galloped away on his mission. For thespace of nine days and as many nights he rode through deep glensso dark that he could not discern anything, until he arrived atthe river Gyoll, which he passed over on a bridge covered withglittering gold. The maiden who kept the bridge asked him his nameand lineage, telling him that the day before five bands of deadpersons had ridden over the bridge, and did not shake it as muchas he alone. "But, " she added, "thou hast not death's hue on thee;why then ridest thou here on the way to Hel?"

"I ride to Hel, " answered Hermod, "to seek Baldur. Hast thouperchance seen him pass this way?"

She replied, "Baldur hath ridden over Gyoll's bridge, and yonderlieth the way he took to the abodes of death"

Hermod pursued his journey until he came to the barred gates ofHel. Here he alighted, girthed his saddle tighter, and remountingclapped both spurs to his horse, who cleared the gate by atremendous leap without touching it. Hermod then rode on to thepalace, where he found his brother Baldur occupying the mostdistinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in hiscompany. The next morning he besought Hela to let Baldur ride homewith him, assuring her that nothing but lamentations were to beheard among the gods. Hela answered that it should now be triedwhether Baldur was so beloved as he was said to be. "If, therefore, " she added, "all things in the world, both living andlifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to life; but if anyone thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall be kept inHel. "

Hermod then rode back to Asgard and gave an account of all he hadheard and witnessed. 

The gods upon this despatched messengers throughout the world tobeg everything to weep in order that Baldur might be deliveredfrom Hel. All things very willingly complied with this request, both men and every other living being, as well as earths, andstones, and trees, and metals, just as we have all seen thesethings weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hotone. As the messengers were returning, they found an old hag namedThaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged her to weep Baldur out ofHel. But she answered, "Thaukt will wail With dry tears Baldur's bale-fire. Let Hela keep her own. "

It was strongly suspected that this hag was no other than Lokihimself, who never ceased to work evil among gods and men. SoBaldur was prevented from coming back to Asgard. 

[Footnote: In Longfellow's Poems will be found a poem entitled"Tegner's Drapa, " upon the subject of Baldur's death. ]

The gods took up the dead body and bore it to the seashore wherestood Baldur's ship "Hringham, " which passed for the largest inthe world. Baldur's dead body was put on the funeral pile, onboard the ship, and his wife Nanna was so struck with grief at thesight that she broke her heart, and her body was burned on thesame pile as her husband's. There was a vast concourse of variouskinds of people at Baldur's obsequies. First came Odin accompaniedby Frigga, the Valkyrie, and his ravens; then Frey in his cardrawn by Gullinbursti, the boar; Heimdall rode his horse Gulltopp, and Freya drove in her chariot drawn by cats. There were also agreat many Frost giants and giants of the mountain present. Baldur's horse was led to the pile fully caparisoned and consumedin the same flames with his master. 

But Loki did not escape his deserved punishment. When he saw howangry the gods were, he fled to the mountain, and there builthimself a hut with four doors, so that he could see everyapproaching danger. He invented a net to catch the fishes, such asfishermen have used since his time. But Odin found out his hiding-place and the gods assembled to take him. He, seeing this, changedhimself into a salmon, and lay hid among the stones of the brook. But the gods took his net and dragged the brook, and Loki, findinghe must be caught, tried to leap over the net; but Thor caught himby the tail and compressed it, so that salmons ever since have hadthat part remarkably fine and thin. They bound him with chains andsuspended a serpent over his head, whose venom falls upon his facedrop by drop. His wife Siguna sits by his side and catches thedrops as they fall, in a cup; but when she carries it away toempty it, the venom falls upon Loki, which makes him howl withhorror, and twist his body about so violently that the whole earthshakes, and this produces what men call earthquakes. 

THE ELVES

The Edda mentions another class of beings, inferior to the gods, but still possessed of great power; these were called Elves. Thewhite spirits, or Elves of Light, were exceedingly fair, morebrilliant than the sun, and clad in garments of a delicate andtransparent texture. They loved the light, were kindly disposed tomankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely children. Theircountry was called Alfheim, and was the domain of Freyr, the godof the sun, in whose light they were always sporting. 

The Black or Night Elves were a different kind of creatures. Ugly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown color, they appeared only atnight, for they avoided the sun as their most deadly enemy, because whenever his beams fell upon any of them they changed themimmediately into stones. Their language was the echo of solitudes, and their dwelling-places subterranean caves and clefts. They weresupposed to have come into existence as maggots produced by thedecaying flesh of Ymir's body, and were afterwards endowed by thegods with a human form and great understanding. They wereparticularly distinguished for a knowledge of the mysteriouspowers of nature, and for the runes which they carved andexplained. They were the most skilful artificers of all createdbeings, and worked in metals and in wood. Among their most notedworks were Thor's hammer, and the ship "Skidbladnir, " which theygave to Freyr, and which was so large that it could contain allthe deities with their war and household implements, but soskillfully was it wrought that when folded together it could beput into a side pocket. 

RAGNAROK, THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS

It was a firm belief of the northern nations that a time wouldcome when all the visible creation, the gods of Valhalla andNiffleheim, the inhabitants of Jotunheim, Alfheim, and Midgard, together with their habitations, would be destroyed. The fearfulday of destruction will not, however, be without its forerunners. First will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall fromthe four corners of the heavens, the frost be very severe, thewind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun impart nogladness. Three such winters will pass away without being temperedby a single summer. Three other similar winters will then follow, during which war and discord will spread over the universe. Theearth itself will be frightened and begin to tremble, the sealeave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and men perish in greatnumbers, and the eagles of the air feast upon their stillquivering bodies. The wolf Fenris will now break his bands, theMidgard serpent rise out of her bed in the sea, and Loki, releasedfrom his bonds, will join the enemies of the gods. Amidst thegeneral devastation the sons of Muspelheim will rush forth undertheir leader Surtur, before and behind whom are flames and burningfire. Onward they ride over Bifrost, the rainbow bridge, whichbreaks under the horses' hoofs. But they, disregarding its fall, direct their course to the battlefield called Vigrid. Thither alsorepair the wolf Fenris, the Midgard serpent, Loki with all thefollowers of Hela, and the Frost giants. 

Heimdall now stands up and sounds the Giallar horn to assemble thegods and heroes for the contest. The gods advance, led on by Odin, who engages the wolf Fenris, but falls a victim to the monster, who is, however, slain by Vidar, Odin's son. Thor gains greatrenown by killing the Midgard serpent, but recoils and falls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying monster vomits over him. Loki and Heimdall meet and fight till they are both slain. Thegods and their enemies having fallen in battle, Surtur, who haskilled Freyr, darts fire and flames over the world, and the wholeuniverse is burned up. The sun becomes dim, the earth sinks intothe ocean, the stars fall from heaven, and time is no more. 

After this Alfadur (the Almighty) will cause a new heaven and anew earth to arise out of the sea. The new earth filled withabundant supplies will spontaneously produce its fruits withoutlabor or care. Wickedness and misery will no more be known, butthe gods and men will live happily together. 

RUNIC LETTERS

One cannot travel far in Denmark, Norway, or Sweden withoutmeeting with great stones of different forms, engraven withcharacters called Runic, which appear at first sight verydifferent from all we know. The letters consist almost invariablyof straight lines, in the shape of little sticks either singly orput together. Such sticks were in early times used by the northernnations for the purpose of ascertaining future events. The stickswere shaken up, and from the figures that they formed a kind ofdivination was derived. 

The Runic characters were of various kinds. They were chiefly usedfor magical purposes. The noxious, or, as they called them, theBITTER runes, were employed to bring various evils on theirenemies; the favorable averted misfortune. Some were medicinal, others employed to win love, etc. In later times they werefrequently used for inscriptions, of which more than a thousandhave been found. The language is a dialect of the Gothic, calledNorse, still in use in Iceland. The inscriptions may therefore beread with certainty, but hitherto very few have been found whichthrow the least light on history. They are mostly epitaphs ontombstones. 

Gray's ode on the "Descent of Odin" contains an allusion to theuse of Runic letters for incantation:

 "Facing to the northern clime, Thrice he traced the Runic rhyme; Thrice pronounced, in accents dread, The thrilling verse that wakes the dead, Till from out the hollow ground Slowly breathed a sullen sound. "

THE SKALDS

The Skalds were the bards and poets of the nation, a veryimportant class of men in all communities in an early stage ofcivilization. They are the depositaries of whatever historic lorethere is, and it is their office to mingle something ofintellectual gratification with the rude feasts of the warriors, by rehearsing, with such accompaniments of poetry and music astheir skill can afford, the exploits of their heroes living ordead. The compositions of the Skalds were called Sagas, many ofwhich have come down to us, and contain valuable materials ofhistory, and a faithful picture of the state of society at thetime to which they relate. 

ICELAND

The Eddas and Sagas have come to us from Iceland. The followingextract from Carlyle's lectures on "Heroes and Hero Worship" givesan animated account of the region where the strange stories wehave been reading had their origin. Let the reader contrast it fora moment with Greece, the parent of classical mythology:

"In that strange island, Iceland, --burst up, the geologists say, by fire from the bottom of the sea, a wild land of barrenness andlava, swallowed many months of every year in black tempests, yetwith a wild, gleaming beauty in summer time, towering up therestern and grim in the North Ocean, with its snow yokuls[mountains], roaring geysers [boiling springs], sulphur pools, andhorrid volcanic chasms, like the waste, chaotic battlefield ofFrost and Fire, --where, of all places, we least looked forliterature or written memorials, --the record of these things waswritten down. On the seaboard of this wild land is a rim of grassycountry, where cattle can subsist, and men by means of them and ofwhat the sea yields; and it seems they were poetic men these, menwho had deep thoughts in them and uttered musically theirthoughts. Much would be lost had Iceland not been burst up fromthe sea, not been discovered by the Northmen!"

TEUTONIC MYTHOLOGY

In the mythology of Germany proper, the name of Odin appears asWotan; Freya and Frigga are regarded as one and the same divinity, and the gods are in general represented as less warlike incharacter than those in the Scandinavian myths. As a whole, however, Teutonic mythology runs along almost identical lines withthat of the northern nations. The most notable divergence is dueto modifications of the legends by reason of the difference inclimatic conditions. The more advanced social condition of theGermans is also apparent in their mythology. 

THE NIBELUNGEN LIED

One of the oldest myths of the Teutonic race is found in the greatnational epic of the Nibelungen Lied, which dates back to theprehistoric era when Wotan, Frigga, Thor, Loki, and the other godsand goddesses were worshipped in the German forests. The epic isdivided into two parts, the first of which tells how Siegfried, the youngest of the kings of the Netherlands, went to Worms, toask in marriage the hand of Kriemhild, sister of Gunther, King ofBurgundy. While he was staying with Gunther, Siegfried helped theBurgundian king to secure as his wife Brunhild, queen of Issland. The latter had announced publicly that he only should be herhusband who could beat her in hurling a spear, throwing a hugestone, and in leaping. Siegfried, who possessed a cloak ofinvisibility, aided Gunther in these three contests, and Brunhildbecame his wife. In return for these services, Gunther gaveSiegfried his sister Kriemhild in marriage. 

After some time had elapsed, Siegfried and Kriemhild went to visitGunther, when the two women fell into a dispute about the relativemerits of their husbands. Kriemhild, to exalt Siegfried, boastedthat it was to the latter that Gunther owed his victories and hiswife. Brunhild, in great anger, employed Hagan, liegeman ofGunther, to murder Siegfried. In the epic Hagan is described asfollows:

"Well-grown and well-compacted was that redoubted guest; Long werehis legs and sinewy, and deep and broad his chest; His hair, thatonce was sable, with gray was dashed of late; Most terrible hisvisage, and lordly was his gait. "

--Nibelungen Lied, stanza 1789. 

This Achilles of German romance stabbed Siegfried between theshoulders, as the unfortunate King of the Netherlands was stoopingto drink from a brook during a hunting expedition. 

The second part of the epic relates how, thirteen years later, Kriemhild married Etzel, King of the Huns. After a time, sheinvited the King of Burgundy, with Hagan and many others, to thecourt of her husband. A fearful quarrel was stirred up in thebanquet hall, which ended in the slaughter of all the Burgundiansbut Gunther and Hagan. These two were taken prisoners and given toKriemhild, who with her own hand cut off the heads of both. Forthis bloody act of vengeance Kriemhild was herself slain byHildebrand, a magician and champion, who in German mythology holdsa place to an extent corresponding to that of Nestor in the Greekmythology. 

THE NIBELUNGEN HOARD

This was a mythical mass of gold and precious stones whichSiegfried obtained from the Nibelungs, the people of the northwhom he had conquered and whose country he had made tributary tohis own kingdom of the Netherlands. Upon his marriage, Siegfriedgave the treasure to Kriemhild as her wedding portion. After themurder of Siegfried, Hagan seized it and buried it secretlybeneath the Rhine at Lochham, intending to recover it at a futureperiod. The hoard was lost forever when Hagan was killed byKriemhild. Its wonders are thus set forth in the poem:

 "'Twas as much as twelve huge wagons in four whole nights and days Could carry from the mountain down to the salt sea bay; Though to and fro each wagon thrice journeyed every day. 

 "It was made up of nothing but precious stones and gold; Were all the world bought from it, and down the value told, Not a mark the less would there be left than erst there was, I ween. "

 --Nibelungen Lied, XIX. 

Whoever possessed the Nibelungen hoard were termed Nibelungers. Thus at one time certain people of Norway were so called. WhenSiegfried held the treasure he received the title "King of theNibelungers. "

WAGNER'S NIBELUNGEN RING

Though Richard Wagner's music-drama of the Nibelungen Ring bearssome resemblance to the ancient German epic, it is a whollyindependent composition and was derived from various old songs andsagas, which the dramatist wove into one great harmonious story. The principal source was the Volsunga Saga, while lesser partswere taken from the Elder Edda and the Younger Edda, and othersfrom the Nibelungen Lied, the Ecklenlied, and other Teutonicfolklore. 

In the drama there are at first only four distinct races, --thegods, the giants, the dwarfs, and the nymphs. Later, by a specialcreation, there come the valkyrie and the heroes. The gods are thenoblest and highest race, and dwell first in the mountain meadows, later in the palace of Valhalla on the heights. The giants are agreat and strong race, but lack wisdom; they hate what is noble, and are enemies of the gods; they dwell in caves near the earth'ssurface. The dwarfs, or nibelungs, are black uncouth pigmies, hating the good, hating the gods; they are crafty and cunning, anddwell in the bowels of the earth. The nymphs are pure, innocentcreatures of the water. The valkyrie are daughters of the gods, but mingled with a mortal strain; they gather dead heroes from thebattle-fields and carry them to Valhalla. The heroes are childrenof the gods, but also mingled with a mortal strain; they aredestined to become at last the highest race of all, and to succeedthe gods in the government of the world. 

The principal gods are Wotan, Loki, Donner, and Froh. The chiefgiants are Fafner and Fasolt, brothers. The chief dwarfs areAlberich and Mime, brothers, and later Hagan, son of Alberich. Thechief nymphs are the Rhine-daughters, Flosshilda, Woglinda, andWellgunda. There are nine Valkyrie, of whom Brunhild is theleading one. 

Wagner's story of the Ring may be summarized as follows:

A hoard of gold exists in the depths of the Rhine, guarded by theinnocent Rhine-maidens. Alberich, the dwarf, forswears love togain this gold. He makes it into a magic ring. It gives him allpower, and he gathers by it a vast amount of treasures. 

Meanwhile Wotan, chief of the gods, has engaged the giants tobuild for him a noble castle, Valhalla, from whence to rule theworld, promising in payment Freya, goddess of youth and love. Butthe gods find they cannot spare Freya, as they are dependent onher for their immortal youth. Loki, called upon to provide asubstitute, tells of Alberich's magic ring and other treasure. Wotan goes with Loki, and they steal the ring and the golden hoardfrom Alberich, who curses the ring and lays the curse on all whoshall henceforth possess it. The gods give the ring and thetreasure to the giants as a substitute for Freya. The curse atonce begins. One giant, Fafner, kills his brother to get all, andtransforms himself into a dragon to guard his wealth. The godsenter Valhalla over the rainbow bridge. This ends the first partof the drama, called the Rhine-Gold. 

The second part, the Valkyrie, relates how Wotan still covets thering. He cannot take it himself, for he has given his word to thegiants. He stands or falls by his word. So he devises an artificeto get the ring. He will get a hero-race to work for him andrecover the ring and the treasures. Siegmund and Sieglinda aretwin children of this new race. Sieglinda is carried off as achild and is forced into marriage with Hunding. Siegmund comes, and unknowingly breaks the law of marriage, but wins Nothung, thegreat sword, and a bride. Brunhild, chief of the Valkyrie, iscommissioned by Wotan at the instance of Fricka, goddess ofmarriage, to slay him for his sin. She disobeys and tries to savehim, but Hunding, helped by Wotan, slays him. Sieglinda, however, about to bear the free hero, to be called Siegfried, is saved byBrunhild, and hid in the forest. Brunhild herself is punished bybeing made a mortal woman. She is left sleeping on the mountainswith a wall of fire around her which only a hero can penetrate. 

The drama continues with the story of Siegfried, which opens witha scene in the smithy between Mime the dwarf and Siegfried. Mimeis welding a sword, and Siegfried scorns him. Mime tells himsomething of his mother, Sieglinda, and shows him the brokenpieces of his father's sword. Wotan comes and tells Mime that onlyone who has no fear can remake the sword. Now Siegfried knows nofear and soon remakes the sword Nothung. Wotan and Alberich cometo where the dragon Fafner is guarding the ring. They both longfor it, but neither can take it. Soon Mime comes bringingSiegfried with the mighty sword. Fafner comes out, but Siegfriedslays him. Happening to touch his lips with the dragon's blood, heunderstands the language of the birds. They tell him of the ring. He goes and gets it. Siegfried now has possession of the ring, butit is to bring him nothing of happiness, only evil. It is to curselove and finally bring death. The birds also tell him of Mime'streachery. He slays Mime. He longs for some one to love. The birdstell him of the slumbering Brunnhilda, whom he finds and marries. 

The Dusk of the Gods portrays at the opening the three norns orfates weaving and measuring the thread of destiny. It is thebeginning of the end. The perfect pair, Siegfried and Brunhild, appear in all the glory of their life, splendid ideals of manhoodand womanhood. But Siegfried goes out into the world to achievedeeds of prowess. He gives her the Nibelungen ring to keep as apledge of his love till his return. Meanwhile Alberich also hasbegotten a son, Hagan, to achieve for him the possession of thering. He is partly of the Gibichung race, and works throughGunther and Gutrune, half-brother and half-sister to him. Theybeguile Siegfried to them, give him a magic draught which makeshim forget Brunhild and fall in love with Gutrune. Under this samespell, he offers to bring Brunhild for wife to Gunther. Now isValhalla full of sorrow and despair. The gods fear the end. Wotanmurmurs, "O that she would give back the ring to the Rhine. " ButBrunhild will not give it up, --it is now her pledge of love. Siegfried comes, takes the ring, and Brunhild is now brought tothe Rhine castle of the Gibichungs, but Siegfried under the spelldoes not love her. She is to be wedded to Gunther. She rises inwrath and denounces Siegfried. But at a hunting banquet Siegfriedis given another magic draught, remembers all, and is slain byHagan by a blow in the back, as he calls on Brunhild's name inlove. Then comes the end. The body of Siegfried is burned on afuneral pyre, a grand funeral march is heard, and Brunhild ridesinto the flames and sacrifices herself for love's sake; the ringgoes back to the Rhine-daughters; and the old world--of the godsof Valhalla, of passion and sin--is burnt up with flames, for thegods have broken moral law, and coveted power rather than love, gold rather than truth, and therefore must perish. They pass, anda new era, the reign of love and truth, has begun. 

Those who wish to study the differences in the legends of theNibelungen Lied and the Nibelungen Ring, and the way in whichWagner used his ancient material, are referred to Professor W. C. Sawyer's book on "Teutonic Legends in the Nibelungen Lied and theNibelungen Ring, " where the matter is treated in full detail. Fora very thorough and clear analysis of the Ring as Wagner gives it, with a study of the musical motifs, probably nothing is better forgeneral readers than the volume "The Epic of Sounds, " by FredaWinworth. The more scholarly work of Professor Lavignac isindispensable for the student of Wagner's dramas. There is muchilluminating comment on the sources and materials in "Legends ofthe Wagner Drama" by J. L. Weston. 

CHAPTER XLI

THE DRUIDS--IONA

DRUIDS

The Druids were the priests or ministers of religion among theancient Celtic nations in Gaul, Britain, and Germany. Ourinformation respecting them is borrowed from notices in the Greekand Roman writers, compared with the remains of Welsh and Gaelicpoetry still extant. 

The Druids combined the functions of the priest, the magistrate, the scholar, and the physician. They stood to the people of theCeltic tribes in a relation closely analogous to that in which theBrahmans of India, the Magi of Persia, and the priests of theEgyptians stood to the people respectively by whom they wererevered. 

The Druids taught the existence of one god, to whom they gave aname "Be' al, " which Celtic antiquaries tell us means "the life ofeverything, " or "the source of all beings, " and which seems tohave affinity with the Phoenician Baal. What renders this affinitymore striking is that the Druids as well as the Phoeniciansidentified this, their supreme deity, with the Sun. Fire wasregarded as a symbol of the divinity. The Latin writers assertthat the Druids also worshipped numerous inferior gods. 

They used no images to represent the object of their worship, nordid they meet in temples or buildings of any kind for theperformance of their sacred rites. A circle of stones (each stonegenerally of vast size), enclosing an area of from twenty feet tothirty yards in diameter, constituted their sacred place. The mostcelebrated of these now remaining is Stonehenge, on SalisburyPlain, England. 

These sacred circles were generally situated near some stream, orunder the shadow of a grove or wide-spreading oak. In the centreof the circle stood the Cromlech or altar, which was a largestone, placed in the manner of a table upon other stones set up onend. The Druids had also their high places, which were largestones or piles of stones on the summits of hills. These werecalled Cairns, and were used in the worship of the deity under thesymbol of the sun. 

That the Druids offered sacrifices to their deity there can be nodoubt. But there is some uncertainty as to what they offered, andof the ceremonies connected with their religious services we knowalmost nothing. The classical (Roman) writers affirm that theyoffered on great occasions human sacrifices; as for success in waror for relief from dangerous diseases. Caesar has given a detailedaccount of the manner in which this was done. "They have images ofimmense size, the limbs of which are framed with twisted twigs andfilled with living persons. These being set on fire, those withinare encompassed by the flames. " Many attempts have been made byCeltic writers to shake the testimony of the Roman historians tothis fact, but without success. 

The Druids observed two festivals in each year. The former tookplace in the beginning of May, and was called Beltane or "fire ofGod. " On this occasion a large fire was kindled on some elevatedspot, in honor of the sun, whose returning beneficence they thuswelcomed after the gloom and desolation of winter. Of this customa trace remains in the name given to Whitsunday in parts ofScotland to this day. Sir Walter Scott uses the word in the "BoatSong" in the "Lady of the Lake":

"Ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain, Blooming atBeltane in winter to fade;" etc. 

The other great festival of the Druids was called "Samh'in, " or"fire of peace, " and was held on Halloweve (first of November), which still retains this designation in the Highlands of Scotland. On this occasion the Druids assembled in solemn conclave, in themost central part of the district, to discharge the judicialfunctions of their order. All questions, whether public orprivate, all crimes against person or property, were at this timebrought before them for adjudication. With these judicial actswere combined certain superstitious usages, especially thekindling of the sacred fire, from which all the fires in thedistrict, which had been beforehand scrupulously extinguished, might be relighted. This usage of kindling fires on Hallow-evelingered in the British islands long after the establishment ofChristianity. 

Besides these two great annual festivals, the Druids were in thehabit of observing the full moon, and especially the sixth day ofthe moon. On the latter they sought the Mistletoe, which grew ontheir favorite oaks, and to which, as well as to the oak itself, they ascribed a peculiar virtue and sacredness. The discovery ofit was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn worship. "They callit, " says Pliny, "by a word in their language, which means 'heal-all, ' and having made solemn preparation for feasting andsacrifice under the tree, they drive thither two milk-white bulls, whose horns are then for the first time bound. The priest then, robed in white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the mistletoe witha golden sickle. It is caught in a white mantle, after which theyproceed to slay the victims, at the same time praying that Godwould render his gift prosperous to those to whom he had givenit. " They drink the water in which it has been infused, and thinkit a remedy for all diseases. The mistletoe is a parasitic plant, and is not always nor often found on the oak, so that when it isfound it is the more precious. 

The Druids were the teachers of morality as well as of religion. Of their ethical teaching a valuable specimen is preserved in theTriads of the Welsh Bards, and from this we may gather that theirviews of moral rectitude were on the whole just, and that theyheld and inculcated many very noble and valuable principles ofconduct. They were also the men of science and learning of theirage and people. Whether they were acquainted with letters or nothas been disputed, though the probability is strong that theywere, to some extent. But it is certain that they committednothing of their doctrine, their history, or their poetry towriting. Their teaching was oral, and their literature (if such aword may be used in such a case) was preserved solely bytradition. But the Roman writers admit that "they paid muchattention to the order and laws of nature, and investigated andtaught to the youth under their charge many things concerning thestars and their motions, the size of the world and the lands, andconcerning the might and power of the immortal gods. "

Their history consisted in traditional tales, in which the heroicdeeds of their forefathers were celebrated. These were apparentlyin verse, and thus constituted part of the poetry as well as thehistory of the Druids. In the poems of Ossian we have, if not theactual productions of Druidical times, what may be consideredfaithful representations of the songs of the Bards. 

The Bards were an essential part of the Druidical hierarchy. Oneauthor, Pennant, says, "The Bards were supposed to be endowed withpowers equal to inspiration. They were the oral historians of allpast transactions, public and private. They were also accomplishedgenealogists, " etc. 

Pennant gives a minute account of the Eisteddfods or sessions ofthe Bards and minstrels, which were held in Wales for manycenturies, long after the Druidical priesthood in its otherdepartments became extinct. At these meetings none but Bards ofmerit were suffered to rehearse their pieces, and minstrels ofskill to perform. Judges were appointed to decide on theirrespective abilities, and suitable degrees were conferred. In theearlier period the judges were appointed by the Welsh princes, andafter the conquest of Wales, by commission from the kings ofEngland. Yet the tradition is that Edward I. , in revenge for theinfluence of the Bards in animating the resistance of the peopleto his sway, persecuted them with great cruelty. This traditionhas furnished the poet Gray with the subject of his celebratedode, the "Bard. "

There are still occasional meetings of the lovers of Welsh poetryand music, held under the ancient name. Among Mrs. Hemans' poemsis one written for an Eisteddfod, or meeting of Welsh Bards, heldin London, May 22, 1822. It begins with a description of theancient meeting, of which the following lines are a part:

 "... Midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied The crested Roman in his hour of pride; And where the Druid's ancient cromlech frowned, And the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round, There thronged the inspired of yore! on plain or height, In the sun's face, beneath the eye of light, And baring unto heaven each noble head, Stood in the circle, where none else might tread. "

The Druidical system was at its height at the time of the Romaninvasion under Julius Caesar. Against the Druids, as their chiefenemies, these conquerors of the world directed their unsparingfury. The Druids, harassed at all points on the mainland, retreated to Anglesey and Iona, where for a season they foundshelter and continued their now dishonored rites. 

The Druids retained their predominance in Iona and over theadjacent islands and mainland until they were supplanted and theirsuperstitions overturned by the arrival of St. Columba, theapostle of the Highlands, by whom the inhabitants of that districtwere first led to profess Christianity. 

IONA

One of the smallest of the British Isles, situated near a ruggedand barren coast, surrounded by dangerous seas, and possessing nosources of internal wealth, Iona has obtained an imperishableplace in history as the seat of civilization and religion at atime when the darkness of heathenism hung over almost the whole ofNorthern Europe. Lona or Icolmkill is situated at the extremity ofthe island of Mull, from which it is separated by a strait of halfa mile in breadth, its distance from the mainland of Scotlandbeing thirty-six miles. 

Columba was a native of Ireland, and connected by birth with theprinces of the land. Ireland was at that time a land of gospellight, while the western and northern parts of Scotland were stillimmersed in the darkness of heathenism. Columba with twelvefriends landed on the island of lona in the year of our Lord 563, having made the passage in a wicker boat covered with hides. TheDruids who occupied the island endeavored to prevent his settlingthere, and the savage nations on the adjoining shores incommodedhim with their hostility, and on several occasions endangered hislife by their attacks. Yet by his perseverance and zeal hesurmounted all opposition, procured from the king a gift of theisland, and established there a monastery of which he was theabbot. He was unwearied in his labors to disseminate a knowledgeof the Scriptures throughout the Highlands and islands ofScotland, and such was the reverence paid him that though not abishop, but merely a presbyter and monk, the entire province withits bishops was subject to him and his successors. The Pictishmonarch was so impressed with a sense of his wisdom and worth thathe held him in the highest honor, and the neighboring chiefs andprinces sought his counsel and availed themselves of his judgmentin settling their disputes. 

When Columba landed on lona he was attended by twelve followerswhom he had formed into a religious body of which he was the head. To these, as occasion required, others were from time to timeadded, so that the original number was always kept up. Theirinstitution was called a monastery and the superior an abbot, butthe system had little in common with the monastic institutions oflater times. The name by which those who submitted to the rulewere known was that of Culdees, probably from the Latin "cultoresDei"--worshippers of God. They were a body of religious personsassociated together for the purpose of aiding each other in thecommon work of preaching the gospel and teaching youth, as well asmaintaining in themselves the fervor of devotion by unitedexercises of worship. On entering the order certain vows weretaken by the members, but they were not those which were usuallyimposed by monastic orders, for of these, which are three, --celibacy, poverty, and obedience. --the Culdees were bound to noneexcept the third. To poverty they did not bind themselves; on thecontrary they seem to have labored diligently to procure forthemselves and those dependent on them the comforts of life. Marriage also was allowed them, and most of them seem to haveentered into that state. True, their wives were not permitted toreside with them at the institution, but they had a residenceassigned to them in an adjacent locality. Near lona there is anisland which still bears the name of "Eilen nam ban, " women'sisland, where their husbands seem to have resided with them, except when duty required their presence in the school or thesanctuary. 

Campbell, in his poem of "Reullura, " alludes to the married monksof Iona:

 "... The pure Culdees Were Albyn's earliest priests of God, Ere yet an island of her seas By foot of Saxon monk was trod, Long ere her churchmen by bigotry Were barred from holy wedlock's tie. 'Twas then that Aodh, famed afar, In lona preached the word with power, And Reullura, beauty's star, Was the partner of his bower. "

In one of his "Irish Melodies, " Moore gives the legend of St. Senanus and the lady who sought shelter on the island, but wasrepulsed:

 "O, haste and leave this sacred isle, Unholy bark, ere morning smile; For on thy deck, though dark it be, A female form I see; And I have sworn this sainted sod Shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod. "

In these respects and in others the Culdees departed from theestablished rules of the Romish church, and consequently weredeemed heretical. The consequence was that as the power of thelatter advanced that of the Culdees was enfeebled. It was not, however, till the thirteenth centurv that the communities of theCuldees were suppressed and the members dispersed. They stillcontinued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads ofPapal usurpation as they best might till the light of theReformation dawned on the world. 

Iona, from its position in the western seas, was exposed to theassaults of the Norwegian and Danish rovers by whom those seaswere infested, and by them it was repeatedly pillaged, itsdwellings burned, and its peaceful inhabitants put to the sword. These unfavorable circumstances led to its gradual decline, whichwas expedited by the subversion of the Culdees throughoutScotland. Under the reign of Popery the island became the seat ofa nunnery, the ruins of which are still seen. At the Reformation, the nuns were allowed to remain, living in community, when theabbey was dismantled. 

Iona is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on account of thenumerous ecclesiastical and sepulchral remains which are foundupon it. The principal of these are the Cathedral or Abbey Churchand the Chapel of the Nunnery. Besides these remains ofecclesiastical antiquity, there are some of an earlier date, andpointing to the existence on the island of forms of worship andbelief different from those of Christianity. These are thecircular Cairns which are found in various parts, and which seemto have been of Druidical origin. It is in reference to all theseremains of ancient religion that Johnson exclaims, "That man islittle to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon theplains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer amid theruins of lona. "

In the "Lord of the Isles" Scott beautifully contrasts the churchon lona with the cave of Staffa, opposite:

 "Nature herself, it seemed, would raise A minister to her Maker's praise! Not for a meaner use ascend Her columns, or her arches bend; Nor of a theme less solemn tells That mighty surge that ebbs and swells, And still between each awful pause, From the high vault an answer draws, In varied tone, prolonged and high, That mocks the organ's melody; Nor doth its entrance front in vain To old Iona's holy fane, That Nature's voice might seem to say, Well hast thou done, frail child of clay! Thy humble powers that stately shrine Tasked high and hard--but witness mine!"

KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

On the decline of the Roman power, about five centuries afterChrist, the countries of Northern Europe were left almostdestitute of a national government. Numerous chiefs, more or lesspowerful, held local sway, as far as each could enforce hisdominion, and occasionally those chiefs would unite for a commonobject; but, in ordinary times, they were much more likely to befound in hostility to one another. In such a state of things therights of the humbler classes of society were at the mercy ofevery assailant; and it is plain that, without some check upon thelawless power of the chiefs, society must have relapsed intobarbarism. Such checks were found, first, in the rivalry of thechiefs themselves, whose mutual jealousy made them restraints uponone another; secondly, in the influence of the Church, which, byevery motive, pure or selfish, was pledged to interpose for theprotection of the weak; and lastly, in the generosity and sense ofright which, however crushed under the weight of passion andselfishness, dwell naturally in the heart of man. From this lastsource sprang Chivalry, which framed an ideal of the heroiccharacter, combining invincible strength and valor, justice, modesty, loyalty to superiors, courtesy to equals, compassion toweakness, and devotedness to the Church; an ideal which, if nevermet with in real life, was acknowledged by all as the highestmodel for emulation. 

The word "Chivalry" is derived from the French "cheval, " a horse. The word "knight, " which originally meant boy or servant, wasparticularly applied to a young man after he was admitted to theprivilege of bearing arms. This privilege was conferred on youthsof family and fortune only, for the mass of the people were notfurnished with arms. The knight then was a mounted warrior, a manof rank, or in the service and maintenance of some man of rank, generally possessing some independent means of support, but oftenrelying mainly on the gratitude of those whom he served for thesupply of his wants, and often, no doubt, resorting to the meanswhich power confers on its possessor. 

In time of war the knight was, with his followers, in the camp ofhis sovereign, or commanding in the field, or holding some castlefor him. In time of peace he was often in attendance at hissovereign's court, gracing with his presence the banquets andtournaments with which princes cheered their leisure. Or he wastraversing the country in quest of adventure, professedly bent onredressing wrongs and enforcing rights, sometimes in fulfilment ofsome vow of religion or of love. These wandering knights werecalled knights-errant; they were welcome guests in the castles ofthe nobility, for their presence enlivened the dulness of thosesecluded abodes, and they were received with honor at the abbeys, which often owed the best part of their revenues to the patronageof the knights; but if no castle or abbey or hermitage were athand their hardy habits made it not intolerable to them to liedown, supperless, at the foot of some wayside cross, and pass thenight. 

It is evident that the justice administered by such aninstrumentality must have been of the rudest description. Theforce whose legitimate purpose was to redress wrongs might easilybe perverted to inflict them Accordingly, we find in the romances, which, however fabulous in facts, are true as pictures of manners, that a knightly castle was often a terror to the surroundingcountry; that is, dungeons were full of oppressed knights andladies, waiting for some champion to appear to set them free, orto be ransomed with money; that hosts of idle retainers were everat hand to enforce their lord's behests, regardless of law andjustice; and that the rights of the unarmed multitude were of noaccount. This contrariety of fact and theory in regard to chivalrywill account for the opposite impressions which exist in men'sminds respecting it. While it has been the theme of the mostfervid eulogium on the one part, it has been as eagerly denouncedon the other. On a cool estimate, we cannot but see reason tocongratulate ourselves that it has given way in modern times tothe reign of law, and that the civil magistrate, if lesspicturesque, has taken the place of the mailed champion. 

THE TRAINING OF A KNIGHT

The preparatory education of candidates for knighthood was longand arduous. At seven years of age the noble children were usuallyremoved from their father's house to the court or castle of theirfuture patron, and placed under the care of a governor, who taughtthem the first articles of religion, and respect and reverence fortheir lords and superiors, and initiated them in the ceremonies ofa court. They were called pages, valets, or varlets, and theiroffice was to carve, to wait at table, and to perform other menialservices, which were not then considered humiliating. In theirleisure hours they learned to dance and play on the harp, wereinstructed in the mysteries of woods and rivers, that is, inhunting, falconry, and fishing, and in wrestling, tilting withspears, and performing other military exercises on horseback. Atfourteen the page became an esquire, and began a course of severerand more laborious exercises. To vault on a horse in heavy armor;to run, to scale walls, and spring over ditches, under the sameencumbrance; to wrestle, to wield the battle-axe for a length oftime, without raising the visor or taking breath; to perform withgrace all the evolutions of horsemanship, --were necessarypreliminaries to the reception of knighthood, which was usuallyconferred at twenty-one years of age, when the young man'seducation was supposed to be completed. In the meantime, theesquires were no less assiduously engaged in acquiring all thoserefinements of civility which formed what was in that age calledcourtesy. The same castle in which they received their educationwas usually thronged with young persons of the other sex, and thepage was encouraged, at a very early age, to select some lady ofthe court as the mistress of his heart, to whom he was taught torefer all his sentiments, words, and actions. The service of hismistress was the glory and occupation of a knight, and her smiles, bestowed at once by affection and gratitude, were held out as therecompense of his well-directed valor. Religion united itsinfluence with those of loyalty and love, and the order ofknighthood, endowed with all the sanctity and religious awe thatattended the priesthood, became an object of ambition to thegreatest sovereigns. 

The ceremonies of initiation were peculiarly solemn. Afterundergoing a severe fast, and spending whole nights in prayer, thecandidate confessed, and received the sacrament. He then clothedhimself in snow-white garments, and repaired to the church, or thehall, where the ceremony was to take place, bearing a knightlysword suspended from his neck, which the officiating priest tookand blessed, and then returned to him. The candidate then, withfolded arms, knelt before the presiding knight, who, after somequestions about his motives and purposes in requesting admission, administered to him the oaths, and granted his request. Some ofthe knights present, sometimes even ladies and damsels, handed tohim in succession the spurs, the coat of mail, the hauberk, thearmlet and gauntlet, and lastly he girded on the sword. He thenknelt again before the president, who, rising from his seat, gavehim the "accolade, " which consisted of three strokes, with theflat of a sword, on the shoulder or neck of the candidate, accompanied by the words: "In the name of God, of St. Michael, andSt. George, I make thee a knight; be valiant, courteous, andloyal!" Then he received his helmet, his shield, and spear; andthus the investiture ended. 

FREEMEN, VILLAINS, SERFS, AND CLERKS

The other classes of which society was composed were, first, FREEMEN, owners of small portions of land independent, though theysometimes voluntarily became the vassals of their more opulentneighbors, whose power was necessary for their protection. Theother two classes, which were much the most numerous, were eitherserfs or villains, both of which were slaves. 

The SERFS were in the lowest state of slavery. All the fruits oftheir labor belonged to the master whose land they tilled, and bywhom they were fed and clothed. 

The VILLIANS were less degraded. Their situation seems to haveresembled that of the Russian peasants at this day. Like theserfs, they were attached to the soil, and were transferred withit by purchase; but they paid only a fixed rent to the landlord, and had a right to dispose of any surplus that might arise fromtheir industry. 

The term "clerk" was of very extensive import. It comprehended, originally, such persons only as belonged to the clergy, orclerical order, among whom, however, might be found a multitude ofmarried persons, artisans or others. But in process of time a muchwider rule was established; every one that could read beingaccounted a clerk or clericus, and allowed the "benefit ofclergy, " that is, exemption from capital and some other forms ofpunishment, in case of crime. 

TOURNAMENTS

The splendid pageant of a tournament between knights, its gaudyaccessories and trappings, and its chivalrous regulations, originated in France. Tournaments were repeatedly condemned by theChurch, probably on account of the quarrels they led to, and theoften fatal results. The "joust, " or "just, " was different fromthe tournament. In these, knights fought with their lances, andtheir object was to unhorse their antagonists; while thetournaments were intended for a display of skill and address inevolutions, and with various weapons, and greater courtesy wasobserved in the regulations. By these it was forbidden to woundthe horse, or to use the point of the sword, or to strike a knightafter he had raised his vizor, or unlaced his helmet. The ladiesencouraged their knights in these exercises; they bestowed prizes, and the conqueror's feats were the theme of romance and song. Thestands overlooking the ground, of course, were varied in theshapes of towers, terraces, galleries, and pensile gardens, magnificently decorated with tapestry, pavilions, and banners. Every combatant proclaimed the name of the lady whose servantd'amour he was. He was wont to look up to the stand, andstrengthen his courage by the sight of the bright eyes that wereraining their influence on him from above. The knights alsocarried FAVORS, consisting of scarfs, veils, sleeves, bracelets, clasps, --in short, some piece of female habiliment, --attached totheir helmets, shields, or armor. If, during the combat, any ofthese appendages were dropped or lost the fair donor would attimes send her knight new ones, especially if pleased with hisexertions. 

MAIL ARMOR

Mail armor, of which the hauberk is a species, and which derivedits name from maille, a French word for MESH, was of two kinds, PLATE or SCALE mail, and CHAIN mail. It was originally used forthe protection of the body only, reaching no lower than the knees. It was shaped like a carter's frock, and bound round the waist bya girdle. Gloves and hose of mail were afterwards added, and ahood, which, when necessary, was drawn over the head, leaving theface alone uncovered. To protect the skin from the impression ofthe iron network of the chain mail, a quilted lining was employed, which, however, was insufficient, and the bath was used to effacethe marks of the armor. 

The hauberk was a complete covering of double chain mail. Somehauberks opened before, like a modern coat; others were closedlike a shirt. 

The chain mail of which they were composed was formed by a numberof iron links, each link having others inserted into it, the wholeexhibiting a kind of network, of which (in some instances atleast) the meshes were circular, with each link separatelyriveted. 

The hauberk was proof against the most violent blow of a sword;but the point of a lance might pass through the meshes, or drivethe iron into the flesh. To guard against this, a thick and well-stuffed doublet was worn underneath, under which was commonlyadded an iron breastplate. Hence the expression "to pierce bothplate and mail, " so common in the earlier poets. 

Mail armor continued in general use till about the year 1300, whenit was gradually supplanted by plate armor, or suits consisting ofpieces or plates of solid iron, adapted to the different parts ofthe body. 

Shields were generally made of wood, covered with leather, or somesimilar substance. To secure them, in some sort, from being cutthrough by the sword, they were surrounded with a hoop of metal. 

HELMETS

The helmet was composed of two parts: the HEADPIECE, which wasstrengthened within by several circles of iron, and the VISOR, which, as the name implies, was a sort of grating to see through, so contrived as, by sliding in a groove, or turning on a pivot, tobe raised or lowered at pleasure. Some helmets had a furtherimprovement called a BEVER, from the Italian bevere, to drink. TheVENTAYLE, or "air-passage, " is another name for this. 

To secure the helmet from the possibility of falling, or of beingstruck off, it was tied by several laces to the meshes of thehauberk; consequently, when a knight was overthrown it wasnecessary to undo these laces before he could be put to death;though this was sometimes effected by lifting up the skirt of thehauberk, and stabbing him in the belly. The instrument of deathwas a small dagger, worn on the right side. 

ROMANCES

In ages when there were no books, when noblemen and princesthemselves could not read, history or tradition was monopolized bythe story-tellers. They inherited, generation after generation, the wondrous tales of their predecessors, which they retailed tothe public with such additions of their own as their acquiredinformation supplied them with. Anachronisms became of course verycommon, and errors of geography, of locality, of manners, equallyso. Spurious genealogies were invented, in which Arthur and hisknights, and Charlemagne and his paladins, were made to derivetheir descent from Aeneas, Hector, or some other of the Trojanheroes. 

With regard to the derivation of the word "Romance, " we trace itto the fact that the dialects which were formed in Western Europe, from the admixture of Latin with the native languages, took thename of Langue Romaine. The French language was divided into twodialects. The river Loire was their common boundary. In theprovinces to the south of that river the affirmative, YES, wasexpressed by the word oc; in the north it was called oil (oui);and hence Dante has named the southern language langue d'oc, andthe northern langue d'oil. The latter, which was carried intoEngland by the Normans, and is the origin of the present French, may be called the French Romane; and the former the Provencal, orProvencial Romane, because it was spoken by the people of Provenceand Languedoc, southern provinces of France. 

These dialects were soon distinguished by very oppositecharacters. A soft and enervating climate, a spirit of commerceencouraged by an easy communication with other maritime nations, the influx of wealth, and a more settled government, may havetended to polish and soften the diction of the Provencials, whosepoets, under the name of Troubadours, were the masters of theItalians, and particularly of Petrarch. Their favorite pieces wereSirventes (satirical pieces), love-songs, and Tensons, which lastwere a sort of dialogue in verse between two poets, who questionedeach other on some refined points of loves' casuistry. It seemsthe Provencials were so completely absorbed in these delicatequestions as to neglect and despise the composition of fabuloushistories of adventure and knighthood, which they left in a greatmeasure to the poets of the northern part of the kingdom, calledTrouveurs. 

At a time when chivalry excited universal admiration, and when allthe efforts of that chivalry were directed against the enemies ofreligion, it was natural that literature should receive the sameimpulse, and that history and fable should be ransacked to furnishexamples of courage and piety that might excite increasedemulation. Arthur and Charlemagne were the two heroes selected forthis purpose. Arthur's pretensions were that he was a brave, though not always a successful warrior; he had withstood withgreat resolution the arms of the infidels, that is to say of theSaxons, and his memory was held in the highest estimation by hiscountrymen, the Britons, who carried with them into Wales, andinto the kindred country of Armorica, or Brittany, the memory ofhis exploits, which their national vanity insensibly exaggerated, till the little prince of the Silures (South Wales) was magnifiedinto the conqueror of England, of Gaul, and of the greater part ofEurope. His genealogy was gradually carried up to an imaginaryBrutus, and to the period of the Trojan war, and a sort ofchronicle was composed in the Welsh, or Armorican language, which, under the pompous title of the "History of the Kings of Britain, "was translated into Latin by Geoffrey of Monmouth, about the year1150. The Welsh critics consider the material of the work to havebeen an older history, written by St. Talian, Bishop of St. Asaph, in the seventh century. 

As to Charlemagne, though his real merits were sufficient tosecure his immortality, it was impossible that his HOLY WARSagainst the Saracens should not become a favorite topic forfiction. Accordingly, the fabulous history of these wars waswritten, probably towards the close of the eleventh century, by amonk, who, thinking it would add dignity to his work to embellishit with a contemporary name, boldly ascribed it to Turpin, who wasArchbishop of Rheims about the year 773. 

These fabulous chronicles were for a while imprisoned in languagesof local only or of professional access. Both Turpin and Geoffreymight indeed be read by ecclesiastics, the sole Latin scholars ofthose times, and Geoffrey's British original would contribute tothe gratification of Welshmen; but neither could becomeextensively popular till translated into some language of generaland familiar use. The Anglo-Saxon was at that time used only by aconquered and enslaved nation; the Spanish and Italian languageswere not yet formed; the Norman French alone was spoken andunderstood by the nobility in the greater part of Europe, andtherefore was a proper vehicle for the new mode of composition. 

That language was fashionable in England before the Conquest, andbecame, after that event, the only language used at the court ofLondon. As the various conquests of the Normans, and theenthusiastic valor of that extraordinary people, had familiarizedthe minds of men with the most marvellous events, their poetseagerly seized the fabulous legends of Arthur and Charlemagne, translated them into the language of the day, and soon produced avariety of imitations. The adventures attributed to thesemonarchs, and to their distinguished warriors, together with thoseof many other traditionary or imaginary heroes, composed bydegrees that formidable body of marvellous histories which, fromthe dialect in which the most ancient of them were written, werecalled "Romances. "

METRICAL ROMANCES

The earliest form in which romances appear is that of a rude kindof verse. In this form it is supposed they were sung or recited atthe feasts of princes and knights in their baronial halls. Thefollowing specimen of the language and style of Robert deBeauvais, who flourished in 1257, is from Sir Walter Scott's"Introduction to the Romance of Sir Tristrem":

 "Ne voil pas emmi dire, Ici diverse la matyere, Entre ceus qui solent cunter, E de le cunte Tristran parler. "

 "I will not say too much about it, So diverse is the matter, Among those who are in the habit of telling And relating the story of Tristran. "

This is a specimen of the language which was in use among thenobility of England, in the ages immediately after the Normanconquest. The following is a specimen of the English that existedat the same time, among the common people. Robert de Brunne, speaking of his Latin and French authorities, says:

 "Als thai haf wryten and sayd Haf I alle in myn Inglis layd, In symple speche as I couthe, That is lightest in manne's mouthe. Alle for the luf of symple men, That strange Inglis cannot ken. "

The "strange Inglis" being the language of the previous specimen. 

It was not till toward the end of the thirteenth century that thePROSE romances began to appear. These works generally began withdisowning and discrediting the sources from which in reality theydrew their sole information. As every romance was supposed to be areal history, the compilers of those in prose would have forfeitedall credit if they had announced themselves as mere copyists ofthe minstrels. On the contrary, they usually state that, as thepopular poems upon the matter in question contain many "lesings, "they had been induced to translate the real and true history ofsuch or such a knight from the original Latin or Greek, or fromthe ancient British or Armorican authorities, which authoritiesexisted only in their own assertion. 

A specimen of the style of the prose romances may be found in thefollowing extract from one of the most celebrated and latest ofthem, the "Morte d'Arthur" of Sir Thomas Mallory, of the date of1485. From this work much of the contents of this volume has beendrawn, with as close an adherence to the original style as wasthought consistent with our plan of adapting our narrative to thetaste of modern readers. 

"It is notoyrly knowen thorugh the vnyuersal world that there beenix worthy and the best that ever were. That is to wete threpaynyms, three Jewes, and three crysten men. As for the paynyms, they were tofore the Incarnacyon of Cryst whiche were named, thefyrst Hector of Troye; the second Alysaunder the grete, and thethyrd Julyus Cezar, Emperour of Rome, of whome thystoryes ben welkno and had. And as for the thre Jewes whyche also were toforethyncarnacyon of our Lord, of whome the fyrst was Duc Josue, whyche brought the chyldren of Israhel into the londe of beheste;the second Dauyd, kyng of Jherusalem, and the thyrd JudasMachabeus; of these thre the byble reherceth al theyr noblehystoryes and actes. And sythe the sayd Incarnacyon haue ben thenoble crysten men stalled and admytted thorugh the vnyuersal worldto the nombre of the ix beste and worthy, of whome was fyrst thenoble Arthur, whose noble actes I purpose to wryte in this personbook here folowyng. The second was Charlemayn, or Charles thegrete, of whome thystorye is had in many places both in frenssheand englysshe, and the thyrd and last was Godefray of boloyn. "

CHAPTER II

THE MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND

The illustrious poet, Milton, in his "History of England, " is theauthor whom we chiefly follow in this chapter. 

According to the earliest accounts, Albion, a giant, and son ofNeptune, a contemporary of Hercules, ruled over the island, towhich he gave his name. Presuming to oppose the progress ofHercules in his western march, he was slain by him. 

Another story is that Histion, the son of Japhet, the son of Noah, had four sons, Francus, Romanus, Alemannus, and Britto, from whomdescended the French, Roman, German, and British people. 

Rejecting these and other like stories, Milton gives more regardto the story of Brutus, the Trojan, which, he says, is supportedby "descents of ancestry long continued, laws and exploits notplainly seeming to be borrowed or devised, which on the commonbelief have wrought no small impression; defended by many, deniedutterly by few. " The principal authority is Geoffrey of Monmouth, whose history, written in the twelfth century, purports to be atranslation of a history of Britain brought over from the oppositeshore of France, which, under the name of Brittany, was chieflypeopled by natives of Britain who, from time to time, emigratedthither, driven from their own country by the inroads of the Pictsand Scots. According to this authority, Brutus was the son ofSilvius, and he of Ascanius, the son of Aeneas, whose flight fromTroy and settlement in Italy are narrated in "Stories of Gods andHeroes. "

Brutus, at the age of fifteen, attending his father to the chase, unfortunately killed him with an arrow. Banished therefor by hiskindred, he sought refuge in that part of Greece where Helenus, with a band of Trojan exiles, had become established. But Helenuswas now dead and the descendants of the Trojans were oppressed byPandrasus, the king of the country. Brutus, being kindly receivedamong them, so throve in virtue and in arms as to win the regardof all the eminent of the land above all others of his age. Inconsequence of this the Trojans not only began to hope, butsecretly to persuade him to lead them the way to liberty. Toencourage them, they had the promise of help from Assaracus, anoble Greek youth, whose mother was a Trojan. He had sufferedwrong at the hands of the king, and for that reason the morewillingly cast in his lost with the Trojan exiles. 

Choosing a fit opportunity, Brutus with his countrymen withdrew tothe woods and hills, as the safest place from which toexpostulate, and sent this message to Pandrasus: "That theTrojans, holding it unworthy of their ancestors to serve in aforeign land, had retreated to the woods, choosing rather a savagelife than a slavish one. If that displeased him, then, with hisleave, they would depart to some other country. " Pandrasus, notexpecting so bold a message from the sons of captives, went inpursuit of them, with such forces as he could gather, and met themon the banks of the Achelous, where Brutus got the advantage, andtook the king captive. The result was, that the terms demanded bythe Trojans were granted; the king gave his daughter Imogen inmarriage to Brutus, and furnished shipping, money, and fitprovision for them all to depart from the land. 

The marriage being solemnized, and shipping from all parts gottogether, the Trojans, in a fleet of no less than three hundredand twenty sail, betook themselves to the sea. On the third daythey arrived at a certain island, which they found destitute ofinhabitants, though there were appearances of former habitation, and among the ruins a temple of Diana. Brutus, here performingsacrifice at the shrine of the goddess, invoked an oracle for hisguidance, in these lines:

 "Goddess of shades, and huntress, who at will Walk'st on the rolling sphere, and through the deep; On thy third realm, the earth, look now, and tell What land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek; What certain seat where I may worship thee For aye, with temples vowed and virgin choirs. "

To whom, sleeping before the altar, Diana in a vision thusanswered:

 "Brutus! far to the west, in the ocean wide, Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies, Seagirt it lies, where giants dwelt of old; Now, void, it fits thy people: thither bend Thy course; there shalt thou find a lasting seat; There to thy sons another Troy shall rise, And kings be born of thee, whose dreaded might Shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold"

Brutus, guided now, as he thought, by divine direction, sped hiscourse towards the west, and, arriving at a place on the Tyrrhenesea, found there the descendants of certain Trojans who, withAntenor, came into Italy, of whom Corineus was the chief. Thesejoined company, and the ships pursued their way till they arrivedat the mouth of the river Loire, in France, where the expeditionlanded, with a view to a settlement, but were so rudely assaultedby the inhabitants that they put to sea again, and arrived at apart of the coast of Britain, now called Devonshire, where Brutusfelt convinced that he had found the promised end of his voyage, landed his colony, and took possession. 

The island, not yet Britain, but Albion, was in a manner desertand inhospitable, occupied only by a remnant of the giant racewhose excessive force and tyranny had destroyed the others. TheTrojans encountered these and extirpated them, Corineus, inparticular, signalizing himself by his exploits against them; fromwhom Cornwall takes its name, for that region fell to his lot, andthere the hugest giants dwelt, lurking in rocks and caves, tillCorineus rid the land of them. 

Brutus built his capital city, and called it Trojanova (New Troy), changed in time to Trinovantus, now London;

[Footnote: "For noble Britons sprong from Trojans bold, And Troynovant was built of old Troy's ashes cold" SPENSER, Book III, Canto IX. , 38. ]

and, having governed the isle twenty-four years, died, leavingthree sons, Locrine, Albanact and Camber. Locrine had the middlepart, Camber the west, called Cambria from him, and AlbanactAlbania, now Scotland. Locrine was married to Guendolen, thedaughter of Corineus, but having seen a fair maid named Estrildis, who had been brought captive from Germany, he became enamoured ofher, and had by her a daughter, whose name was Sabra. This matterwas kept secret while Corineus lived, but after his death Locrinedivorced Guendolen, and made Estrildis his queen. Guendolen, allin rage, departed to Cornwall, where Madan, her son, lived, whohad been brought up by Corineus, his grandfather. Gathering anarmy of her father's friends and subjects, she gave battle to herhusband's forces and Locrine was slain. Guendolen caused herrival, Estrildis, with her daughter Sabra, to be thrown into theriver, from which cause the river thenceforth bore the maiden'sname, which by length of time is now changed into Sabrina orSevern. Milton alludes to this in his address to the rivers, --

 "Severn swift, guilty of maiden's death";--

and in his "Comus" tells the story with a slight variation, thus:

 "There is a gentle nymph not far from hence, That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream; Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure: Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine, That had the sceptre from his father, Brute, She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit Of her enraged step-dame, Guendolen, Commended her fair innocence to the flood, That stayed her night with his cross-flowing course The water-nymphs that in the bottom played, Held up their pearled wrists and took her in, Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall, Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head, And gave her to his daughters to imbathe In nectared lavers strewed with asphodel, And through the porch and inlet of each sense Dropped in ambrosial oils till she revived, And underwent a quick, immortal change, Made goddess of the river, " etc. 

If our readers ask when all this took place, we must answer, inthe first place, that mythology is not careful of dates; and next, that, as Brutus was the great-grandson of Aeneas, it must havebeen not far from a century subsequent to the Trojan war, or abouteleven hundred years before the invasion of the island by JuliusCaesar. This long interval is filled with the names of princeswhose chief occupation was in warring with one another. Some few, whose names remain connected with places, or embalmed inliterature, we will mention. 

BLADUD

Bladud built the city of Bath, and dedicated the medicinal watersto Minerva. He was a man of great invention, and practised thearts of magic, till, having made him wings to fly, he fell downupon the temple of Apollo, in Trinovant, and so died, after twentyyears' reign. 

LEIR

Leir, who next reigned, built Leicester, and called it after hisname. He had no male issue, but only three daughters. When grownold he determined to divide his kingdom among his daughters, andbestow them in marriage. But first, to try which of them loved himbest, he determined to ask them solemnly in order, and judge ofthe warmth of their affection by their answers. Goneril, theeldest, knowing well her father's weakness, made answer that sheloved him "above her soul. " "Since thou so honorest my decliningage, " said the old man, "to thee and to thy husband I give thethird part of my realm. " Such good success for a few words soonuttered was ample instruction to Regan, the second daughter, whatto say. She therefore to the same question replied that "she lovedhim more than all the world beside;" and so received an equalreward with her sister. But Cordelia, the youngest, and hithertothe best beloved, though having before her eyes the reward of alittle easy soothing, and the loss likely to attend plain-dealing, yet was not moved from the solid purpose of a sincere andvirtuous answer, and replied: "Father, my love towards you is asmy duty bids. They who pretend beyond this flatter. " When the oldman, sorry to hear this, and wishing her to recall these words, persisted in asking, she still restrained her expressions so as tosay rather less than more than the truth. Then Leir, all in apassion, burst forth: "Since thou hast not reverenced thy agedfather like thy sisters, think not to have any part in my kingdomor what else I have;"--and without delay, giving in marriage hisother daughters, Goneril to the Duke of Albany, and Regan to theDuke of Cornwall, he divides his kingdom between them, and goes toreside with his eldest daughter, attended only by a hundredknights. But in a short time his attendants, being complained ofas too numerous and disorderly, are reduced to thirty. Resentingthat affront, the old king betakes him to his second daughter; butshe, instead of soothing his wounded pride, takes part with hersister, and refuses to admit a retinue of more than five. Thenback he returns to the other, who now will not receive him withmore than one attendant. Then the remembrance of Cordeilla comesto his thoughts, and he takes his journey into France to seek her, with little hope of kind consideration from one whom he had soinjured, but to pay her the last recompense he can render, --confession of his injustice. When Cordeilla is informed of hisapproach, and of his sad condition, she pours forth true filialtears. And, not willing that her own or others' eyes should seehim in that forlorn condition, she sends one of her trustedservants to meet him, and convey him privately to some comfortableabode, and to furnish him with such state as befitted his dignity. After which Cordeilla, with the king her husband, went in state tomeet him, and, after an honorable reception, the king permittedhis wife, Cordeilla, to go with an army and set her father againupon his throne. They prospered, subdued the wicked sisters andtheir consorts, and Leir obtained the crown and held it threeyears. Cordeilla succeeded him and reigned five years; but thesons of her sisters, after that, rebelled against her, and shelost both her crown and life. 

Shakspeare has chosen this story as the subject of his tragedy of"King Lear, " varying its details in some respects. The madness ofLeir, and the ill success of Cordeilla's attempt to reinstate herfather, are the principal variations, and those in the names willalso be noticed. Our narrative is drawn from Milton's "History;"and thus the reader will perceive that the story of Leir has hadthe distinguished honor of being told by the two acknowledgedchiefs of British literature. 

FERREX AND PORREX

Ferrex and Porrex were brothers, who held the kingdom after Leir. They quarrelled about the supremacy, and Porrex expelled hisbrother, who, obtaining aid from Suard, king of the Franks, returned and made war upon Porrex. Ferrex was slain in battle andhis forces dispersed. When their mother came to hear of her son'sdeath, who was her favorite, she fell into a great rage, andconceived a mortal hatred against the survivor. She took, therefore, her opportunity when he was asleep, fell upon him, and, with the assistance of her women, tore him in pieces. This horridstory would not be worth relating, were it not for the fact thatit has furnished the plot for the first tragedy which was writtenin the English language. It was entitled "Gorboduc, " but in thesecond edition "Ferrex and Porrex, " and was the production ofThomas Sackville, afterwards Earl of Dorset, and Thomas Norton, abarrister. Its date was 1561. 

DUNWALLO MOLMUTIUS

This is the next name of note. Molmutius established the Molmutinelaws, which bestowed the privilege of sanctuary on temples, cities, and the roads leading to them, and gave the sameprotection to ploughs, extending a religious sanction to thelabors of the field. Shakspeare alludes to him in "Cymbeline, " ActIII. , Scene 1:

 "... Molmutius made our laws; Who was the first of Britain which did put His brows within a golden crown, and called Himself a king. "

BRENNUS AND BELINUS, The sons of Molmutius, succeeded him. They quarrelled, and Brennuswas driven out of the island, and took refuge in Gaul, where hemet with such favor from the king of the Allobroges that he gavehim his daughter in marriage, and made him his partner on thethrone. Brennus is the name which the Roman historians give to thefamous leader of the Gauls who took Rome in the time of Camillus. Geoffrey of Monmouth claims the glory of the conquest for theBritish prince, after he had become king of the Allobroges. 

ELIDURE

After Belinus and Brennus there reigned several kings of littlenote, and then came Elidure. Arthgallo, his brother, being king, gave great offence to his powerful nobles, who rose against him, deposed him, and advanced Elidure to the throne. Arthgallo fled, and endeavored to find assistance in the neighboring kingdoms toreinstate him, but found none. Elidure reigned prosperously andwisely. After five years' possession of the kingdom, one day, whenhunting, he met in the forest his brother, Arthgallo, who had beendeposed. After long wandering, unable longer to bear the povertyto which he was reduced, he had returned to Britain, with only tenfollowers, designing to repair to those who had formerly been hisfriends. Elidure, at the sight of his brother in distress, forgetting all animosities, ran to him, and embraced him. He tookArthgallo home with him, and concealed him in the palace. Afterthis he feigned himself sick, and, calling his nobles about him, induced them, partly by persuasion, partly by force, to consent tohis abdicating the kingdom, and reinstating his brother on thethrone. The agreement being ratified, Elidure took the crown fromhis own head, and put it on his brother's head. Arthgallo afterthis reigned ten years, well and wisely, exercisng strict justicetowards all men. 

He died, and left the kingdom to his sons, who reigned withvarious fortunes, but were not long-lived, and left no offspring, so that Elidure was again advanced to the throne, and finished thecourse of his life in just and virtuous actions, receiving thename of THE PIOUS, from the love and admiration of his subjects. 

Wordsworth has taken the story of Artegal and Elidure for thesubject of a poem, which is No. 2 of "Poems founded on theAffections. "

LUD

After Elidure, the Chronicle names many kings, but none of specialnote, till we come to Lud, who greatly enlarged Trinovant, hiscapital, and surrounded it with a wall. He changed its name, bestowing upon it his own, so that henceforth it was called Lud'stown, afterwards London. Lud was buried by the gate of the citycalled after him Ludgate. He had two sons, but they were not oldenough at the time of their father's death to sustain the cares ofgovernment, and therefore their uncle, Caswallaun, orCassibellaunus, succeeded to the kingdom. He was a brave andmagnificent prince, so that his fame reached to distant countries. 

CASSIBELLAUNUS

About this time it happened (as is found in the Roman histories)that Julius Caesar, having subdued Gaul, came to the shoreopposite Britain. And having resolved to add this island also tohis conquests, he prepared ships and transported his army acrossthe sea, to the mouth of the River Thames. Here he was met byCassibellaun with all his forces, and a battle ensued, in whichNennius, the brother of Cassibellaun, engaged in single combatwith Csesar. After several furious blows given and received, thesword of Caesar stuck so fast in the shield of Nennius that itcould not be pulled out, and the combatants being separated by theintervention of the troops Nennius remained possessed of thistrophy. At last, after the greater part of the day was spent, theBritons poured in so fast that Caesar was forced to retire to hiscamp and fleet. And finding it useless to continue the war anylonger at that time, he returned to Gaul. 

Shakspeare alludes to Cassibellaunus, in "Cymbeline":

 "The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point (O giglot fortune!) to master Caesar's sword, Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright, And Britons strut with courage. "

KYMBELINUS, OR CYMBELINE

Caesar, on a second invasion of the island, was more fortunate, and compelled the Britons to pay tribute. Cymbeline, the nephew ofthe king, was delivered to the Romans as a hostage for thefaithful fulfilment of the treaty, and, being carried to Rome byCaesar, he was there brought up in the Roman arts andaccomplishments. Being afterwards restored to his country, andplaced on the throne, he was attached to the Romans, and continuedthrough all his reign at peace with them. His sons, Guiderius andArviragus, who made their appearance in Shakspeare's play of"Cymbeline, " succeeded their father, and, refusing to pay tributeto the Romans, brought on another invasion. Guiderius was slain, but Arviragus afterward made terms with the Romans, and reignedprosperously many years. 

ARMORICA

The next event of note is the conquest and colonization ofArmorica, by Maximus, a Roman general, and Conan, lord of Miniadocor Denbigh-land, in Wales. The name of the country was changed toBrittany, or Lesser Britain; and so completely was it possessed bythe British colonists, that the language became assimilated tothat spoken in Wales, and it is said that to this day thepeasantry of the two countries can understand each other whenspeaking their native language. 

The Romans eventually succeeded in establishing themselves in theisland, and after the lapse of several generations they becameblended with the natives so that no distinction existed betweenthe two races. When at length the Roman armies were withdrawn fromBritain, their departure was a matter of regret to theinhabitants, as it left them without protection against thebarbarous tribes, Scots, Picts, and Norwegians, who harassed thecountry incessantly. This was the state of things when the era ofKing Arthur began. 

The adventure of Albion, the giant, with Hercules is alluded to bySpenser, "Faery Queene, " Book IV. , Canto xi:

 "For Albion the son of Neptune was; Who for the proof of his great puissance, Out of his Albion did on dry foot pass Into old Gaul that now is cleped France, To fight with Hercules, that did advance To vanquish all the world with matchless might: And there his mortal part by great mischance Was slain. "

CHAPTER III

MERLIN

Merlin was the son of no mortal father, but of an Incubus, one ofa class of beings not absolutely wicked, but far from good, whoinhabit the regions of the air. Merlin's mother was a virtuousyoung woman, who, on the birth of her son, intrusted him to apriest, who hurried him to the baptismal fount, and so saved himfrom sharing the lot of his father, though he retained many marksof his unearthly origin. 

At this time Vortigern reigned in Britain. He was a usurper, whohad caused the death of his sovereign, Moines, and driven the twobrothers of the late king, whose names were Uther and Pendragon, into banishment. Vortigern, who lived in constant fear of thereturn of the rightful heirs of the kingdom, began to erect astrong tower for defence. The edifice, when brought by the workmento a certain height, three times fell to the ground, without anyapparent cause. The king consulted his astrologers on thiswonderful event, and learned from them that it would be necessaryto bathe the corner-stone of the foundation with the blood of achild born without a mortal father. 

In search of such an infant, Vortigern sent his messengers allover the kingdom, and they by accident discovered Merlin, whoselineage seemed to point him out as the individual wanted. Theytook him to the king; but Merlin, young as he was, explained tothe king the absurdity of attempting to rescue the fabric by suchmeans, for he told him the true cause of the instability of thetower was its being placed over the den of two immense dragons, whose combats shook the earth above them. The king ordered hisworkmen to dig beneath the tower, and when they had done so theydiscovered two enormous serpents, the one white as milk the otherred as fire. The multitude looked on with amazement, till theserpents, slowly rising from their den, and expanding theirenormous folds, began the combat, when every one fled in terror, except Merlin, who stood by clapping his hands and cheering on theconflict. The red dragon was slain, and the white one, glidingthrough a cleft in the rock, disappeared. 

These animals typified, as Merlin afterwards explained, theinvasion of Uther and Pendragon, the rightful princes, who soonafter landed with a great army. Vortigern was defeated, andafterwards burned alive in the castle he had taken such pains toconstruct. On the death of Vortigern, Pendragon ascended thethrone. Merlin became his chief adviser, and often assisted theking by his magical arts. 

 "Merlin, who knew the range of all their arts, Had built the King his havens, ships and halls. "

 --Vivian. 

Among other endowments, he had the power of transforming himselfinto any shape he pleased. At one time he appeared as a dwarf, atothers as a damsel, a page, or even a greyhound or a stag. Thisfaculty he often employed for the service of the king, andsometimes also for the diversion of the court and the sovereign. 

Merlin continued to be a favorite counsellor through the reigns ofPendragon, Uther, and Arthur, and at last disappeared from view, and was no more found among men, through the treachery of hismistress, Viviane, the Fairy, which happened in this wise. 

Merlin, having become enamoured of the fair Viviane, the Lady ofthe Lake, was weak enough to impart to her various importantsecrets of his art, being impelled by fatal destiny, of which hewas at the same time fully aware. The lady, however, was notcontent with his devotion, unbounded as it seems to have been, but"cast about, " the Romance tells us, how she might "detain him forevermore, " and one day addressed him in these terms: "Sir, I wouldthat we should make a fair place and a suitable, so contrived byart and by cunning that it might never be undone, and that you andI should be there in joy and solace. " "My lady, " said Merlin, "Iwill do all this. " "Sir, " said she, "I would not have you do it, but you shall teach me, and I will do it, and then it will be moreto my mind. " "I grant you this, " said Merlin. Then he began todevise, and the damsel put it all in writing. And when he haddevised the whole, then had the damsel full great joy, and showedhim greater semblance of love than she had ever before made, andthey sojourned together a long while. At length it fell out that, as they were going one day hand in hand through the forest ofBreceliande, they found a bush of white-thorn, which was ladenwith flowers; and they seated themselves under the shade of thiswhite-thorn, upon the green grass, and Merlin laid his head uponthe damsel's lap, and fell asleep. Then the damsel rose, and madea ring with her wimple round the bush, and round Merlin, and beganher enchantments, such as he himself had taught her; and ninetimes she made the ring, and nine times she made the enchantment, and then she went and sat down by him, and placed his head againupon her lap. 

 "And a sleep Fell upon Merlin more like death, so deep Her finger on her lips; then Vivian rose, And from her brown-locked head the wimple throws, And takes it in her hand and waves it over The blossomed thorn tree and her sleeping lover. Nine times she waved the fluttering wimple round, And made a little plot of magic ground. "

 --Matthew Arnold. 

And when he awoke, and looked round him, it seemed to him that hewas enclosed in the strongest tower in the world, and laid upon afair bed. Then said he to the dame: "My lady, you have deceivedme, unless you abide with me, for no one hath power to unmake thistower but you alone. " She then promised she would be often there, and in this she held her covenant with him. And Merlin never wentout of that tower where his Mistress Viviane had enclosed him; butshe entered and went out again when she listed. 

After this event Merlin was never more known to hold converse withany mortal but Viviane, except on one occasion. Arthur, having forsome time missed him from his court, sent several of his knightsin search of him, and, among the number, Sir Gawain, who met witha very unpleasant adventure while engaged in this quest. Happeningto pass a damsel on his road, and neglecting to salute her, sherevenged herself for his incivility by transforming him into ahideous dwarf. He was bewailing aloud his evil fortune as he wentthrough the forest of Breceliande, when suddenly he heard thevoice of one groaning on his right hand; and, looking that way, hecould see nothing save a kind of smoke, which seemed like air, andthrough which he could not pass. Merlin then addressed him fromout the smoke, and told him by what misadventure he was imprisonedthere. "Ah, sir!" he added, "you will never see me more, and thatgrieves me, but I cannot remedy it; I shall never more speak toyou, nor to any other person, save only my mistress. But do thouhasten to King Arthur, and charge him from me to undertake, without delay, the quest of the Sacred Graal. The knight isalready born, and has received knighthood at his hands, who isdestined to accomplish this quest. " And after this he comfortedGawain under his transformation, assuring him that he shouldspeedily be disenchanted; and he predicted to him that he shouldfind the king at Carduel, in Wales, on his return, and that allthe other knights who had been on like quest would arrive therethe same day as himself. And all this came to pass as Merlin hadsaid. 

Merlin is frequently introduced in the tales of chivalry, but itis chiefly on great occasions, and at a period subsequent to hisdeath, or magical disappearance. In the romantic poems of Italy, and in Spenser, Merlin is chiefly represented as a magical artist. Spenser represents him as the artificer of the impenetrable shieldand other armor of Prince Arthur ("Faery Queene, " Book I. , Cantovii. ), and of a mirror, in which a damsel viewed her lover'sshade. The Fountain of Love, in the "Orlando Innamorata, " isdescribed as his work; and in the poem of "Ariosto" we are told ofa hall adorned with prophetic paintings, which demons had executedin a single night, under the direction of Merlin. 

The following legend is from Spenser's "Faery Queene, " Book III. , Canto iii. :

CAER-MERDIN, OR CAERMARTHEN (IN WALES), MERLIN'S TOWER, AND THEIMPRISONED FIENDS. 

 "Forthwith themselves disguising both, in straunge And base attire, that none might them bewray, To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge Of name Caer-Merdin called, they took their way: There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say) To make his wonne, low underneath the ground In a deep delve, far from the view of day, That of no living wight he mote be found, Whenso he counselled with his sprights encompassed round. 

 "And if thou ever happen that same way To travel, go to see that dreadful place; It is a hideous hollow cave (they say) Under a rock that lies a little space From the swift Barry, tombling down apace Amongst the woody hills of Dynevor; But dare not thou, I charge, in any case, To enter into that same baleful bower, For fear the cruel fiends should thee unwares devour. 

 "But standing high aloft, low lay thine ear, And there such ghastly noise of iron chains And brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear, Which thousand sprites with long enduring pains Do toss, that it will stun thy feeble brains; And oftentimes great groans, and grievous stounds, When too huge toil and labor them constrains; And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds From under that deep rock most horribly rebounds. 

 "The cause some say is this. A little while Before that Merlin died, he did intend A brazen wall in compas to compile About Caermerdin, and did it commend Unto these sprites to bring to perfect end; During which work the Lady of the Lake, Whom long he loved, for him in haste did send; Who, thereby forced his workmen to forsake, Them bound till his return their labor not to slack. 

 "In the mean time, through that false lady's train, He was surprised, and buried under beare, He ever to his work returned again; Nathless those fiends may not their work forbear, So greatly his commandement they fear; But there do toil and travail day and night, Until that brazen wall they up do rear. For Merlin had in magic more insight Than ever him before or after living wight. "

[Footnote: Buried under beare. Buried under something whichenclosed him like a coffin or bier. ]

CHAPTER IV

ARTHUR

We shall begin our history of King Arthur by giving thoseparticulars of his life which appear to rest on historicalevidence; and then proceed to record those legends concerning himwhich form the earliest portion of British literature. 

Arthur was a prince of the tribe of Britons called Silures, whosecountry was South Wales, the son of Uther, named Pendragon, atitle given to an elective sovereign, paramount over the manykings of Britain. He appears to have commenced his martial careerabout the year 500, and was raised to the Pendragonship about tenyears later. He is said to have gained twelve victories over theSaxons. The most important of them was that of Badon, by somesupposed to be Bath, by others Berkshire. This was the last of hisbattles with the Saxons, and checked their progress soeffectually, that Arthur experienced no more annoyance from them, and reigned in peace, until the revolt of his nephew Modred, twenty years later, which led to the fatal battle of Camlan, inCornwall, in 542. Modred was slain, and Arthur, mortally wounded, was conveyed by sea to Glastonbury, where he died, and was buried. Tradition preserved the memory of the place of his intermentwithin the abbey, as we are told by Giraldus Cambrensis, who waspresent when the grave was opened by command of Henry II. About1150, and saw the bones and sword of the monarch, and a leadencross let into his tombstone, with the inscription in rude Romanletters, "Here lies buried the famous King Arthur, in the islandAvalonia. " This story has been elegantly versified by Warton. Apopular traditional belief was long entertained among the Britons, that Arthur was not dead, but had been carried off to be healed ofhis wounds in Fairy-land, and that he would reappear to avenge hiscountrymen and reinstate them in the sovereignty of Britain. InWarton's "Ode" a bard relates to King Henry the traditional storyof Arthur's death, and closes with these lines. 

 "Yet in vain a paynim foe Armed with fate the mighty blow: For when he fell, the Elfin queen, All in secret and unseen, O'er the fainting hero threw Her mantle of ambrosial blue, And bade her spirits bear him far, In Merlin's agate-axled car, To her green isle's enamelled steep, Far in the navel of the deep. O'er his wounds she sprinkled dew From flowers that in Arabia grew. 

 There he reigns a mighty king, Thence to Britain shall return, If right prophetic rolls I learn, Borne on victory's spreading plume, His ancient sceptre to resume, His knightly table to restore, And brave the tournaments of yore. "

After this narration another bard came forward who recited adifferent story:

 "When Arthur bowed his haughty crest, No princess veiled in azure vest Snatched him, by Merlin's powerful spell, In groves of golden bliss to dwell; But when he fell, with winged speed, His champions, on a milk-white steed, From the battle's hurricane, Bore him to Joseph's towered fane, In the fair vale of Avalon; There, with chanted orison And the long blaze of tapers clear, The stoled fathers met the bier; Through the dim aisles, in order dread Of martial woe, the chief they led, And deep entombed in holy ground, Before the altar's solemn bound. "

[Footnote: Glastonbury Abbey, said to be founded by Joseph ofArimathea, in a spot anciently called the island or valley ofAvalonia. 

Tennyson, in his "Palace of Art, " alludes to the legend ofArthur's rescue by the Faery queen, thus:

 "Or mythic Uther's deeply wounded son, In some fair space of sloping greens, Lay dozing in the vale of Avalon, And watched by weeping queens. "]

It must not be concealed that the very existence of Arthur hasbeen denied by some. Milton says of him: "As to Arthur, morerenowned in songs and romances than in true stories, who he was, and whether ever any such reigned in Britain, hath been doubtedheretofore, and may again, with good reason. " Modern critics, however, admit that there was a prince of this name, and findproof of it in the frequent mention of him in the writings of theWelsh bards. But the Arthur of romance, according to Mr. Owen, aWelsh scholar and antiquarian, is a mythological person. "Arthur, "he says, "is the Great Bear, as the name literally implies(Arctos, Arcturus), and perhaps this constellation, being so nearthe pole, and visibly describing a circle in a small space, is theorigin of the famous Round Table. "

KING ARTHUR

Constans, king of Britain, had three sons, Moines, Ambrosius, otherwise called Uther, and Pendragon. Moines, soon after hisaccession to the crown, was vanquished by the Saxons, inconsequence of the treachery of his seneschal, Vortigern, andgrowing unpopular, through misfortune, he was killed by hissubjects, and the traitor Vortigern chosen in his place. 

Vortigern was soon after defeated in a great battle by Uther andPendragon, the surviving brothers of Moines, and Pendragonascended the throne. 

This prince had great confidence in the wisdom of Merlin, and madehim his chief adviser. About this time a dreadful war arosebetween the Saxons and Britons. Merlin obliged the royal brothersto swear fidelity to each other, but predicted that one of themmust fall in the first battle. The Saxons were routed, andPendragon, being slain, was succeeded by Uther, who now assumed inaddition to his own name the appellation of Pendragon. 

Merlin still continued a favorite counsellor. At the request ofUther he transported by magic art enormous stones from Ireland, toform the sepulchre of Pendragon. These stones constitute themonument now called Stonehenge, on Salisbury plain. 

Merlin next proceeded to Carlisle to prepare the Round Table, atwhich he seated an assemblage of the great nobles of the country. The companions admitted to this high order were bound by oath toassist each other at the hazard of their own lives, to attemptsingly the most perilous adventures, to lead, when necessary, alife of monastic solitude, to fly to arms at the first summons, and never to retire from battle till they had defeated the enemy, unless night intervened and separated the combatants. 

Soon after this institution, the king invited all his barons tothe celebration of a great festival, which he proposed holdingannually at Carlisle. 

As the knights had obtained the sovereign's permission to bringtheir ladies along with them, the beautiful Igerne accompanied herhusband, Gorlois, Duke of Tintadel, to one of these anniversaries. The king became deeply enamoured of the duchess, and disclosed hispassion; but Igerne repelled his advances, and revealed hissolicitations to her husband. On hearing this, the duke instantlyremoved from court with Igerne, and without taking leave of Uther. The king complained to his council of this want of duty, and theydecided that the duke should be summoned to court, and, ifrefractory, should be treated as a rebel. As he refused to obeythe citation, the king carried war into the estates of his vassaland besieged him in the strong castle of Tintadel. Merlintransformed the king into the likeness of Gorlois, and enabled himto have many stolen interviews with Igerne. At length the duke waskilled in battle and the king espoused Igerne. 

From this union sprang Arthur, who succeeded his father, Uther, upon the throne. 

ARTHUR CHOSEN KING

Arthur, though only fifteen years old at his father's death, waselected king, at a general meeting of the nobles. It was not donewithout opposition, for there were many ambitious competitors. 

 "For while he linger'd there A doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm Flash'd forth and into war: for most of these Made head against him, crying, 'Who is he That he should rule us? who hath proven him King Uther's son? for lo! we look at him, And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice, Are like to those of Uther whom we knew. "

 --Coming of Arthur. 

But Bishop Brice, a person of great sanctity, on Christmas eveaddressed the assembly, and represented that it would well becomethem, at that solemn season, to put up their prayers for sometoken which should manifest the intentions of Providencerespecting their future sovereign. This was done, and with suchsuccess, that the service was scarcely ended when a miraculousstone was discovered before the church door, and in the stone wasfirmly fixed a sword, with the following words engraven on itshilt:

 "I am hight Escalibore, Unto a king fair tresore. "

Bishop Brice, after exhorting the assembly to offer up theirthanksgiving for this signal miracle, proposed a law, that whoevershould be able to draw out the sword from the stone, should beacknowledged as sovereign of the Britons; and his proposal wasdecreed by general acclamation. The tributary kings of Uther, andthe most famous knights, successively put their strength to theproof, but the miraculous sword resisted all their efforts. Itstood till Candlemas; it stood till Easter, and till Pentecost, when the best knights in the kingdom usually assembled for theannual tournament. Arthur, who was at that time serving in thecapacity of squire to his foster-brother, Sir Kay, attended hismaster to the lists. Sir Kay fought with great valor and success, but had the misfortune to break his sword, and sent Arthur to hismother for a new one. Arthur hastened home, but did not find thelady; but having observed near the church a sword, sticking in astone, he galloped to the place, drew out the sword with greatease, and delivered it to his master. Sir Kay would willingly haveassumed to himself the distinction conferred by the possession ofthe sword, but when, to confirm the doubters, the sword wasreplaced in the stone he was utterly unable to withdraw it, and itwould yield a second time to no hand but Arthur's. Thus decisivelypointed out by Heaven as their king, Arthur was by general consentproclaimed as such, and an early day appointed for his solemncoronation. 

Immediately after his election to the crown, Arthur found himselfopposed by eleven kings and one duke, who with a vast army wereactually encamped in the forest of Rockingham. By Merlin's adviceArthur sent an embassy to Brittany, to solicit the aid of King Banand King Bohort, two of the best knights in the world. Theyaccepted the call, and with a powerful army crossed the sea, landing at Portsmouth, where they were received with greatrejoicing. The rebel kings were still superior in numbers; butMerlin, by a powerful enchantment, caused all their tents to falldown at once, and in the confusion Arthur with his allies fellupon them and totally routed them. 

After defeating the rebels, Arthur took the field against theSaxons. As they were too strong for him unaided, he sent anembassy to Armorica, beseeching the assistance of Hoel, who soonafter brought over an army to his aid. The two kings joined theirforces, and sought the enemy, whom they met, and both sidesprepared for a decisive engagement. "Arthur himself, " as Geoffreyof Monmouth relates, "dressed in a breastplate worthy of so greata king, places on his head a golden helmet engraved with thesemblance of a dragon. Over his shoulders he throws his shieldcalled Priwen, on which a picture of the Holy Virgin constantlyrecalled her to his memory. Girt with Caliburn, a most excellentsword, and fabricated in the isle of Avalon, he graces his righthand with the lance named Ron. This was a long and broad spear, well contrived for slaughter. " After a severe conflict, Arthur, calling on the name of the Virgin, rushes into the midst of hisenemies, and destroys multitudes of them with the formidableCaliburn, and puts the rest to flight. Hoel, being detained bysickness, took no part in this battle. 

This is called the victory of Mount Badon, and, however disguisedby fable, it is regarded by historians as a real event. 

The feats performed by Arthur at the battle of Badon Mount arethus celebrated in Drayton's verse:

 "They sung how he himself at Badon bore, that day, When at the glorious goal his British sceptre lay; Two daies together how the battel stronglie stood; Pendragon's worthie son, who waded there in blood, Three hundred Saxons slew with his owne valiant hand. "

 --Song IV. 

GUENEVER

Merlin had planned for Arthur a marriage with the daughter of KingLaodegan of Carmalide. By his advice Arthur paid a visit to thecourt of that sovereign, attended only by Merlin and by thirty-nine knights whom the magician had selected for that service. Ontheir arrival they found Laodegan and his peers sitting incouncil, endeavoring, but with small prospect of success, todevise means of resisting the impending attack of Ryence, king ofIreland, who, with fifteen tributary kings and an almostinnumerable army, had nearly surrounded the city. Merlin, whoacted as leader of the band of British knights, announced them asstrangers, who came to offer the king their services in his wars;but under the express condition that they should be at liberty toconceal their names and quality until they should think proper todivulge them. These terms were thought very strange, but werethankfully accepted, and the strangers, after taking the usualoath to the king, retired to the lodging which Merlin had preparedfor them. 

A few days after this, the enemy, regardless of a truce into whichthey had entered with King Laodegan, suddenly issued from theircamp and made an attempt to surprise the city. Cleodalis, theking's general, assembled the royal forces with all possibledespatch. Arthur and his companions also flew to arms, and Merlinappeared at their head, bearing a standard on which was emblazoneda terrific dragon. Merlin advanced to the gate, and commanded theporter to open it, which the porter refused to do, without theking's order. Merlin thereupon took up the gate, with all itsappurtenances of locks, bars, bolts, etc. , and directed his troopsto pass through, after which he replaced it in perfect order. Hethen set spurs to his horse and dashed, at the head of his littletroop, into a body of two thousand pagans. The disparity ofnumbers being so enormous, Merlin cast a spell upon the enemy, soas to prevent their seeing the small number of their assailants;notwithstanding which the British knights were hard pressed. Butthe people of the city, who saw from the walls this unequalcontest, were ashamed of leaving the small body of strangers totheir fate, so they opened the gate and sallied forth. The numberswere now more nearly equal, and Merlin revoked his spell, so thatthe two armies encountered on fair terms. Where Arthur, Ban, Bohort, and the rest fought the king's army had the advantage; butin another part of the field the king himself was surrounded andcarried off by the enemy. The sad sight was seen by Guenever, thefair daughter of the king, who stood on the city wall and lookedat the battle. She was in dreadful distress, tore her hair, andswooned away. 

But Merlin, aware of what passed in every part of the field, suddenly collected his knights, led them out of the battle, intercepted the passage of the party who were carrying away theking, charged them with irresistible impetuosity, cut in pieces ordispersed the whole escort, and rescued the king. In the fightArthur encountered Caulang, a giant fifteen feet high, and thefair Guenever, who had already began to feel a strong interest inthe handsome young stranger, trembled for the issue of thecontest. But Arthur, dealing a dreadful blow on the shoulder ofthe monster, cut through his neck so that his head hung over onone side, and in this condition his horse carried him about thefield, to the great horror and dismay of the Pagans. Guenevercould not refrain from expressing aloud her wish that the gentleknight, who dealt with giants so dexterously, were destined tobecome her husband, and the wish was echoed by her attendants. Theenemy soon turned their backs and fled with precipitation, closelypursued by Laodegan and his allies. 

After the battle Arthur was disarmed and conducted to the bath bythe princess Guenever, while his friends were attended by theother ladies of the court. After the bath the knights wereconducted to a magnificent entertainment, at which they werediligently served by the same fair attendants. Laodegan, more andmore anxious to know the name and quality of his generousdeliverers, and occasionally forming a secret wish that the chiefof his guests might be captivated by the charms of his daughter, appeared silent and pensive, and was scarcely roused from hisreverie by the banters of his courtiers. Arthur, having had anopportunity of explaining to Guenever his great esteem for hermerit, was in the joy of his heart, and was still furtherdelighted by hearing from Merlin the late exploits of Gawain atLondon, by means of which his immediate return to his dominionswas rendered unnecessary, and he was left at liberty to protracthis stay at the court of Laodegan. Every day contributed toincrease the admiration of the whole court for the gallantstrangers, and the passion of Guenever for their chief; and whenat last Merlin announced to the king that the object of the visitof the party was to procure a bride for their leader, Laodegan atonce presented Guenever to Arthur, telling him that, whatevermight be his rank, his merit was sufficient to entitle him to thepossession of the heiress of Carmalide. 

 "And could he find a woman in her womanhood As great as he was in his manhood-- The twain together might change the world. "

 --Guinevere. 

Arthur accepted the lady with the utmost gratitude, and Merlinthen proceeded to satisfy the king of the rank of his son-in-law;upon which Laodegan, with all his barons, hastened to do homage totheir lawful sovereign, the successor of Uther Pendragon. The fairGuenever was then solemnly betrothed to Arthur, and a magnificentfestival was proclaimed, which lasted seven days. At the end ofthat time, the enemy appearing again with renewed force, it becamenecessary to resume military operations. [Footnote: Guenever, thename of Arthur's queen, also written Genievre and Geneura, isfamiliar to all who are conversant with chivalric lore. It is toher adventures, and those of her true knight, Sir Launcelot, thatDante alludes in the beautiful episode of Francesca di Rimini. ]

We must now relate what took place at and near London, whileArthur was absent from his capital. At this very time a band ofyoung heroes were on their way to Arthur's court, for the purposeof receiving knighthood from him. They were Gawain and his threebrothers, nephews of Arthur, sons of King Lot, and Galachin, another nephew, son of King Nanters. King Lot had been one of therebel chiefs whom Arthur had defeated, but he now hoped by meansof the young men to be reconciled to his brother-in-law. Heequipped his sons and his nephew with the utmost magnificence, giving them a splendid retinue of young men, sons of earls andbarons, all mounted on the best horses, with complete suits ofchoice armor. They numbered in all seven hundred, but only ninehad yet received the order of knighthood; the rest were candidatesfor that honor, and anxious to earn it by an early encounter withthe enemy. Gawain, the leader, was a knight of wonderful strength;but what was most remarkable about him was that his strength wasgreater at certain hours of the day than at others. From nineo'clock till noon his strength was doubled, and so it was fromthree to evensong; for the rest of the time it was lessremarkable, though at all times surpassing that of ordinary men. 

After a march of three days they arrived in the vicinity ofLondon, where they expected to find Arthur and his court, and veryunexpectedly fell in with a large convoy belonging to the enemy, consisting of numerous carts and wagons, all loaded withprovisions, and escorted by three thousand men, who had beencollecting spoil from all the country round. A single charge fromGawain's impetuous cavalry was sufficient to disperse the escortand recover the convoy, which was instantly despatched to London. But before long a body of seven thousand fresh soldiers advancedto the attack of the five princes and their little army. Gawain, singling out a chief named Choas, of gigantic size, began thebattle by splitting him from the crown of the head to the breast. Galachin encountered King Sanagran, who was also very huge, andcut off his head. Agrivain and Gahariet also performed prodigiesof valor. Thus they kept the great army of assailants at bay, though hard pressed, till of a sudden they perceived a strong bodyof the citizens advancing from London, where the convoy which hadbeen recovered by Gawain had arrived, and informed the mayor andcitizens of the danger of their deliverer. The arrival of theLondoners soon decided the contest. The enemy fled in alldirections, and Gawain and his friends, escorted by the gratefulcitizens, entered London, and were received with acclamations. 

CHAPTER V

ARTHUR (Continued)

After the great victory of Mount Badon, by which the Saxons werefor the time effectually put down, Arthur turned his arms againstthe Scots and Picts, whom he routed at Lake Lomond, and compelledto sue for mercy. He then went to York to keep his Christmas, andemployed himself in restoring the Christian churches which thePagans had rifled and overthrown. The following summer heconquered Ireland, and then made a voyage with his fleet toIceland, which he also subdued. The kings of Gothland and of theOrkneys came voluntarily and made their submission, promising topay tribute. Then he returned to Britain, where, havingestablished the kingdom, he dwelt twelve years in peace. 

During this time he invited over to him all persons whatsoeverthat were famous for valor in foreign nations, and augmented thenumber of his domestics, and introduced such politeness into hiscourt as people of the remotest countries thought worthy of theirimitation. So that there was not a nobleman who thought himself ofany consideration unless his clothes and arms were made in thesame fashion as those of Arthur's knights. 

Finding himself so powerful at home, Arthur began to form designsfor extending his power abroad. So, having prepared his fleet, hefirst attempted Norway, that he might procure the crown of it forLot, his sister's husband. Arthur landed in Norway, fought a greatbattle with the king of that country, defeated him, and pursuedthe victory till he had reduced the whole country under hisdominion, and established Lot upon the throne. Then Arthur made avoyage to Gaul and laid siege to the city of Paris. Gaul was atthat time a Roman province, and governed by Flollo, the Tribune. When the siege of Paris had continued a month, and the peoplebegan to suffer from famine, Flollo challenged Arthur to singlecombat, proposing to decide the conquest of the province in thatway. Arthur gladly accepted the challenge, and slew his adversaryin the contest, upon which the citizens surrendered the city tohim. After the victory Arthur divided his army into two parts, oneof which he committed to the conduct of Hoel, whom he ordered tomarch into Aquitaine, while he with the other part should endeavorto subdue the other provinces. At the end of nine years, in whichtime all the parts of Gaul were entirely reduced, Arthur returnedto Paris, where he kept his court, and, calling an assembly of theclergy and people, established peace and the just administrationof the laws in that kingdom. Then he bestowed Normandy uponBedver, his butler, and the province of Andegavia upon Kay, hissteward, [Footnote: This name, in the French romances, is spelledQueux, which means head cook. This would seem to imply that it wasa title, and not a name; yet the personage who bore it is nevermentioned by any other. He is the chief, if not the only, comiccharacter among the heroes of Arthur's court. He is the Seneschalor Steward, his duties also embracing those of chief of the cooks. In the romances, his general character is a compound of valor andbuffoonery, always ready to fight, and generally getting the worstof the battle. He is also sarcastic and abusive in his remarks, bywhich he often gets into trouble. Yet Arthur seems to have anattachment to him, and often takes his advice, which is generallywrong. ] and several other provinces upon his great men thatattended him. And, having settled the peace of the cities andcountries, he returned back in the beginning of spring to Britain. 

Upon the approach of the feast of Pentecost, Arthur, the better todemonstrate his joy after such triumphant successes, and for themore solemn observation of that festival, and reconciling theminds of the princes that were now subject to him, resolved duringthat season to hold a magnificent court, to place the crown uponhis head, and to invite all the kings and dukes under hissubjection to the solemnity. And he pitched upon Caerleon, theCity of Legions, as the proper place for his purpose. For, besidesits great wealth above the other cities, its situation upon theriver Usk, near the Severn sea, was most pleasant and fit for sogreat a solemnity. For on one side it was washed by that nobleriver, so that the kings and princes from the countries beyond theseas might have the convenience of sailing up to it. On the otherside the beauty of the meadows and groves, and magnificence of theroyal palaces, with lofty gilded roofs that adorned it, made iteven rival the grandeur of Rome. It was also famous for twochurches, whereof one was adorned with a choir of virgins, whodevoted themselves wholly to the service of God, and the othermaintained a convent of priests. Besides, there was a college oftwo hundred philosophers, who, being learned in astronomy and theother arts, were diligent in observing the courses of the stars, and gave Arthur true predictions of the events that would happen. In this place, therefore, which afforded such delights, werepreparations made for the ensuing festival. 

[Footnote: Several cities are allotted to King Arthur by theromance-writers. The principal are Caerleon, Camelot, andCarlisle. 

Caerleon derives its name from its having been the station of oneof the legions, during the dominion of the Romans. It is called byLatin writers Urbs Legionum, the City of Legions. The former wordbeing rendered into Welsh by Caer, meaning city, and the lattercontracted into lleon. The river Usk retains its name in moderngeography, and there is a town or city of Caerleon upon it, thoughthe city of Cardiff is thought to be the scene of Arthur's court. Chester also bears in Welsh the name of Caerleon; for Chester, derived from castra, Latin for camp, is the designation ofmilitary headquarters. 

Camelot is thought to be Winchester. 

Shalott is Guilford. 

Hamo's Port is Southampton. 

Carlisle is the city still retaining that name, near the Scottishborder. But this name is also sometimes applied to other places, which were, like itself, military stations. ]

Ambassadors were then sent into several kingdoms, to invite tocourt the princes both of Gaul and of the adjacent islands. Accordingly there came Augusel, king of Albania, now Scotland, Cadwallo, king of Venedotia, now North Wales, Sater, king ofDemetia, now South Wales; also the archbishops of the metropolitansees, London and York, and Dubricius, bishop of Caerleon, the Cityof Legions. This prelate, who was primate of Britain, was soeminent for his piety that he could cure any sick person by hisprayers. There were also the counts of the principal cities, andmany other worthies of no less dignity. 

From the adjacent islands came Guillamurius, king of Ireland, Gunfasius, king of the Orkneys, Malvasius, king of Iceland, Lot, king of Norway, Bedver, the butler, Duke of Normandy, Kay, thesewer, Duke of Andegavia; also the twelve peers of Gaul, and Hoel, Duke of the Armorican Britons, with his nobility, who came withsuch a train of mules, horses, and rich furniture as it isdifficult to describe. Besides these there remained no prince ofany consideration on this side of Spain who came not upon thisinvitation. And no wonder, when Arthur's munificence, which wascelebrated over the whole world, made him beloved by all people. 

When all were assembled upon the day of the solemnity thearchbishops were conducted to the palace, in order to place thecrown upon the king's head. Then Dubricius, inasmuch as the courtwas held in his diocese, made himself ready to celebrate theoffice. As soon as the king was invested with his royalhabiliments he was conducted in great pomp to the metropolitanchurch, having four kings, viz. , of Albania, Cornwall, Demetia, and Venedotia, bearing four golden swords before him. On anotherpart was the queen, dressed out in her richest ornaments, conducted by the archbishops and bishops to the Church of Virgins;the four queens, also, of the kings last mentioned, bearing beforeher four white doves, according to ancient custom. When the wholeprocession was ended so transporting was the harmony of themusical instruments and voices, whereof there was a vast varietyin both churches, that the knights who attended were in doubtwhich to prefer, and therefore crowded from the one to the otherby turns, and were far from being tired of the solemnity, thoughthe whole day had been spent in it. At last, when divine servicewas over at both churches, the king and queen put off theircrowns, and, putting on their lighter ornaments, went to thebanquet. When they had all taken their seats according toprecedence, Kay, the sewer, in rich robes of ermine, with athousand young noblemen all in like manner clothed in rich attire, served up the dishes. From another part Bedver, the butler, wasfollowed by the same number of attendants, who waited with allkinds of cups and drinking-vessels. And there was food and drinkin abundance, and everything was of the best kind, and served inthe best manner. For at that time Britain had arrived at such apitch of grandeur that in riches, luxury, and politeness it farsurpassed all other kingdoms. 

As soon as the banquets were over they went into the fieldswithout the city to divert themselves with various sports, such asshooting with bows and arrows, tossing the pike, casting of heavystones and rocks, playing at dice, and the like, and all theseinoffensively, and without quarrelling. In this manner were threedays spent, and after that they separated, and the kings andnoblemen departed to their several homes. 

After this Arthur reigned five years in peace. Then cameambassadors from Lucius Tiberius, Procurator under Leo, Emperor ofRome, demanding tribute. But Arthur refused to pay tribute, andprepared for war. As soon as the necessary dispositions were madehe committed the government of his kingdom to his nephew Modredand to Queen Guenever, and marched with his army to Hamo's Port, where the wind stood fair for him. The army crossed over insafety, and landed at the mouth of the river Barba. And there theypitched their tents to wait the arrival of the kings of theislands. 

As soon as all the forces were arrived Arthur marched forward toAugustodunum, and encamped on the banks of the river Alba. Hererepeated battles were fought, in all which the Britons, undertheir valiant leaders, Hoel, Duke of Armorica, and Gawain, nephewto Arthur, had the advantage. At length Lucius Tiberius determinedto retreat, and wait for the Emperor Leo to join him with freshtroops. But Arthur, anticipating this event, took possession of acertain valley, and closed up the way of retreat to Lucius, compelling him to fight a decisive battle, in which Arthur lostsome of the bravest of his knights and most faithful followers. But on the other hand Lucius Tiberius was slain, and his armytotally defeated. The fugitives dispersed over the country, someto the by-ways and woods, some to cities and towns, and all otherplaces where they could hope for safety. 

Arthur stayed in those parts till the next winter was over, andemployed his time in restoring order and settling the government. He then returned into England, and celebrated his victories withgreat splendor. 

Then the king stablished all his knights, and to them that werenot rich he gave lands, and charged them all never to do outragenor murder, and always to flee treason; also, by no means to becruel, but to give mercy unto him that asked mercy, upon pain offorfeiture of their worship and lordship; and always to do ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen service, upon pain of death. Also thatno man take battle in a wrongful quarrel, for no law, nor for anyworld's goods. Unto this were all the knights sworn of the TableRound, both old and young. And at every year were they sworn atthe high feast of Pentecost. 

KING ARTHUR SLAYS THE GIANT OF ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT

While the army was encamped in Brittany, awaiting the arrival ofthe kings, there came a countryman to Arthur, and told him that agiant, whose cave was on a neighboring mountain, called St. Michael's Mount, had for a long time been accustomed to carry offthe children of the peasants to devour them. "And now he hathtaken the Duchess of Brittany, as she rode with her attendants, and hath carried her away in spite of all they could do. " "Now, fellow, " said King Arthur, "canst thou bring me there where thisgiant haunteth?" "Yea, sure, " said the good man; "lo, yonder wherethou seest two great fires, there shalt thou find him, and moretreasure than I suppose is in all France beside. " Then the kingcalled to him Sir Bedver and Sir Kay, and commanded them to makeready horse and harness for himself and them; for after evening hewould ride on pilgrimage to St. Michael's Mount. 

So they three departed, and rode forth till they came to the footof the mount. And there the king commanded them to tarry, for hewould himself go up into that mount. So he ascended the hill tillhe came to a great fire, and there he found an aged woman sittingby a new-made grave, making great sorrow. Then King Arthur salutedher, and demanded of her wherefore she made such lamentation; towhom she answered: "Sir knight, speak low, for yonder is a devil, and if he hear thee speak, he will come and destroy thee. For yecannot make resistance to him, he is so fierce and so strong. Hehath murdered the Duchess, which here lieth, who was the fairestof all the world, wife to Sir Hoel, Duke of Brittany. " "Dame, "said the king, "I come from the noble conqueror, King Arthur, totreat with that tyrant. " "Fie on such treaties, " said she; "hesetteth not by the king, nor by no man else. " "Well, " said Arthur, "I will accomplish my message for all your fearful words. " So hewent forth by the crest of the hill, and saw where the giant satat supper, gnawing on the limb of a man, and baking his broadlimbs at the fire, and three fair damsels lying bound, whose lotit was to be devoured in their turn. When King Arthur beheld that, he had great compassion on them, so that his heart bled forsorrow. Then he hailed the giant, saying, "He that all the worldruleth give thee short life and shameful death. Why hast thoumurdered this Duchess? Therefore come forth, for this day thoushalt die by my hand. " Then the giant started up, and took a greatclub, and smote at the king, and smote off his coronal; and thenthe king struck him in the belly with his sword, and made afearful wound. Then the giant threw away his club, and caught theking in his arms, so that he crushed his ribs. Then the threemaidens kneeled down and prayed for help and comfort for Arthur. And Arthur weltered and wrenched, so that he was one while under, and another time above. And so weltering and wallowing they rolleddown the hill, and ever as they weltered Arthur smote him with hisdagger; and it fortuned they came to the place where the twoknights were. And when they saw the king fast in the giant's armsthey came and loosed him. Then the king commanded Sir Kay to smiteoff the giant's head, and to set it on the truncheon of a spear, and fix it on the barbican, that all the people might see andbehold it. This was done, and anon it was known through all thecountry, wherefor the people came and thanked the king. And hesaid, "Give your thanks to God; and take ye the giant's spoil anddivide it among you. " And King Arthur caused a church to bebuilded on that hill, in honor of St. Michael. 

KING ARTHUR GETS A SWORD FROM THE LADY OF THE LAKE

One day King Arthur rode forth, and on a sudden he was ware ofthree churls chasing Merlin, to have slain him. And the king rodeunto them and bade them, "Flee, churls!" Then were they afraidwhen they saw a knight, and fled. "O Merlin, " said Arthur, "herehadst thou been slain, for all thy crafts, had I not been by. ""Nay, " said Merlin, "not so, for I could save myself if I would;but thou art more near thy death than I am. " So, as they went thustalking, King Arthur perceived where sat a knight on horseback, asif to guard the pass. "Sir knight, " said Arthur, "for what causeabidest thou here?" Then the knight said, "There may no knightride this way unless he just with me, for such is the custom ofthe pass. " "I will amend that custom, " said the king. Then theyran together, and they met so hard that their spears wereshivered. Then they drew their swords and fought a strong battle, with many great strokes. But at length the sword of the knightsmote King Arthur's sword in two pieces. Then said the knight untoArthur, "Thou art in my power, whether to save thee or slay thee, and unless thou yield thee as overcome and recreant, thou shaltdie. " "As for death, " said King Arthur, "welcome be it when itcometh; but to yield me unto thee as recreant, I will not. " Thenhe leapt upon the knight, and took him by the middle and threw himdown; but the knight was a passing strong man, and anon he broughtArthur under him, and would have razed off his helm to slay him. Then said Merlin, "Knight, hold thy hand, for this knight is a manof more worship than thou art aware of. " "Why, who is he?" saidthe knight. "It is King Arthur. " Then would he have slain him fordread of his wrath, and lifted up his sword to slay him; andtherewith Merlin cast an enchantment on the knight, so that hefell to the earth in a great sleep. Then Merlin took up KingArthur, and set him on his horse. "Alas!" said Arthur, "what hastthou done, Merlin? hast thou slain this good knight by thycrafts?" "Care ye not, " said Merlin; "he is wholer than ye be. Heis only asleep, and will wake in three hours. "

Then the king and he departed, and went till they came to ahermit, that was a good man and a great leech. So the hermitsearched all his wounds, and applied good salves; and the king wasthere three days, and then were his wounds well amended, that hemight ride and go. So they departed, and as they rode Arthur said, "I have no sword. " "No matter, " said Merlin; "hereby is a swordthat shall be yours. " So they rode till they came to a lake, whichwas a fair water and broad. And in the midst of the lake Arthurwas aware of an arm clothed in white samite, [Footnote: Samite, asort of silk stuff. ] that held a fair sword in the hand. "Lo!"said Merlin, "yonder is that sword that I spake of. It belongethto the Lady of the Lake, and, if she will, thou mayest take it;but if she will not, it will not be in thy power to take it. "

So Sir Arthur and Merlin alighted from their horses, and went intoa boat. And when they came to the sword that the hand held SirArthur took it by the handle and took it to him, and the arm andthe hand went under the water. 

Then they returned unto the land and rode forth. And Sir Arthurlooked on the sword and liked it right well. 

So they rode unto Caerleon, whereof his knights were passing glad. And when they heard of his adventures they marvelled that he wouldjeopard his person so alone. But all men of worship said it was afine thing to be under such a chieftain as would put his person inadventure as other poor knights did. 

CHAPTER VI

SIR GAWAIN

Sir Gawain was nephew to King Arthur, by his sister Morgana, married to Lot, king of Orkney, who was by Arthur made king ofNorway. Sir Gawain was one of the most famous knights of the RoundTable, and is characterized by the romancers as the SAGE andCOURTEOUS Gawain. To this Chaucer alludes in his "Squiere's Tale, "where the strange knight "salueth" all the court

 "With so high reverence and observance, As well in speeche as in countenance, That Gawain, with his olde curtesie, Though he were come agen out of faerie, Ne coude him not amenden with a word. "

Gawain's brothers were Agrivain, Gahariet, and Gareth. 

SIR GAWAIN'S MARRIAGE

Once upon a time King Arthur held his court in merry Carlisle, when a damsel came before him and craved a boon. It was forvengeance upon a caitiff knight, who had made her lover captiveand despoiled her of her lands. King Arthur commanded to bring himhis sword, Excalibar, and to saddle his steed, and rode forthwithout delay to right the lady's wrong. Ere long he reached thecastle of the grim baron, and challenged him to the conflict. Butthe castle stood on magic ground, and the spell was such that noknight could tread thereon but straight his courage fell and hisstrength decayed. King Arthur felt the charm, and before a blowwas struck, his sturdy limbs lost their strength, and his headgrew faint. He was fain to yield himself prisoner to the churlishknight, who refused to release him except upon condition that heshould return at the end of a year, and bring a true answer to thequestion, "What thing is it which women most desire?" or indefault thereof surrender himself and his lands. King Arthuraccepted the terms, and gave his oath to return at the timeappointed. During the year the king rode east, and he rode west, and inquired of all whom he met what thing it is which all womenmost desire. Some told him riches; some, pomp and state; some, mirth; some, flattery; and some, a gallant knight. But in thediversity of answers he could find no sure dependence. The yearwas well-nigh spent, when one day, as he rode thoughtfully througha forest, he saw sitting beneath a tree a lady of such hideousaspect that he turned away his eyes, and when she greeted him inseemly sort, made no answer. "What wight art thou, " the lady said, "that will not speak to me? It may chance that I may resolve thydoubts, though I be not fair of aspect. " "If thou wilt do so, "said King Arthur, "choose what reward thou wilt, thou grim lady, and it shall be given thee. " "Swear me this upon thy faith, " shesaid, and Arthur swore it. Then the lady told him the secret, anddemanded her reward, which was that the king should find some fairand courtly knight to be her husband. 

King Arthur hastened to the grim baron's castle and told him oneby one all the answers which he had received from his variousadvisers, except the last, and not one was admitted as the trueone. "Now yield thee, Arthur, " the giant said, "for thou hast notpaid thy ransom, and thou and thy lands are forfeited to me. " ThenKing Arthur said:

 "Yet hold thy hand, thou proud baron, I pray thee hold thy hand, And give me leave to speak once more, In rescue of my land. This morn as I came over a moor, I saw a lady set, Between an oak and a green holly, All clad in red scarlett. She says ALL WOMEN WOULD HAVE THEIR WILL, This is their chief desire; Now yield, as thou art a baron true, That I have paid my hire. "

"It was my sister that told thee this, " the churlish baronexclaimed. "Vengeance light on her! I will some time or other doher as ill a turn. "

King Arthur rode homeward, but not light of heart, for heremembered the promise he was under to the loathly lady to--giveher one of his young and gallant knights for a husband. He toldhis grief to Sir Gawain, his nephew, and he replied, "Be not sad, my lord, for I will marry the loathly lady. " King Arthur replied:

 "Now nay, now nay, good Sir Gawaine, My sister's son ye be; The loathly lady's all too grim, And all too foule for thee. "

But Gawain persisted, and the king at last, with sorrow of heart, consented that Gawain should be his ransom. So one day the kingand his knights rode to the forest, met the loathly lady, andbrought her to the court. Sir Gawain stood the scoffs and jeers ofhis companions as he best might, and the marriage was solemnized, but not with the usual festivities. Chaucer tells us:

 "... There was no joye ne feste at alle; There n' as but hevinesse and mochel sorwe, For prively he wed her on the morwe, And all day after hid him as an owle, So wo was him his wife loked so foule!"

[Footnote: N'AS is NOT WAS, contracted; in modern phrase, THEREWAS NOT. MOCHEL SORWE is much sorrow; MORWE is MORROW. ]

When night came, and they were alone together, Sir Gawain couldnot conceal his aversion; and the lady asked him why he sighed soheavily, and turned away his face. He candidly confessed it was onaccount of three things, her age, her ugliness, and her lowdegree. The lady, not at all offended, replied with excellentarguments to all his objections. She showed him that with age isdiscretion, with ugliness security from rivals, and that all truegentility depends, not upon the accident of birth, but upon thecharacter of the individual. 

Sir Gawain made no reply; but, turning his eyes on his bride, whatwas his amazement to perceive that she wore no longer the unseemlyaspect that had so distressed him. She then told him that the formshe had worn was not her true form, but a disguise imposed uponher by a wicked enchanter, and that she was condemned to wear ituntil two things should happen: one, that she should obtain someyoung and gallant knight to be her husband. This having been done, one-half of the charm was removed. She was now at liberty to wearher true form for half the time, and she bade him choose whetherhe would have her fair by day, and ugly by night, or the reverse. Sir Gawain would fain have had her look her best by night, when healone would see her, and show her repulsive visage, if at all, toothers. But she reminded him how much more pleasant it would be toher to wear her best looks in the throng of knights and ladies byday. Sir Gawain yielded, and gave up his will to hers. This alonewas wanting to dissolve the charm. The lovely lady now with joyassured him that she should change no more, but as she now was, sowould she remain by night as well as by day. 

 "Sweet blushes stayned her rud-red cheek, Her eyen were black as sloe, The ripening cherrye swelled her lippe, And all her neck was snow. Sir Gawain kist that ladye faire Lying upon the sheete, And swore, as he was a true knight, The spice was never so swete. "

The dissolution of the charm which had held the lady also releasedher brother, the "grim baron, " for he too had been implicated init. He ceased to be a churlish oppressor, and became a gallant andgenerous knight as any at Arthur's court. 

CHAPTER VII

CARADOC BRIEFBRAS; OR, CARADOC WITH THE SHRUNKEN ARM

Caradoc was the son of Ysenne, the beautiful niece of Arthur. Hewas ignorant who his father was, till it was discovered in thefollowing manner: When the youth was of proper years to receivethe honors of knighthood, King Arthur held a grand court for thepurpose of knighting him. On this occasion a strange knightpresented himself, and challenged the knights of Arthur's court toexchange blow for blow with him. His proposal was this--to lay hisneck on a block for any knight to strike, on condition that, if hesurvived the blow, the knight should submit in turn to the sameexperiment. Sir Kay, who was usually ready to accept allchallenges, pronounced this wholly unreasonable, and declared thathe would not accept it for all the wealth in the world. And whenthe knight offered his sword, with which the operation was to beperformed, no person ventured to accept it, till Caradoc, growingangry at the disgrace which was thus incurred by the Round Table, threw aside his mantle and took it. "Do you do this as one of thebest knights?" said the stranger. "No, " he replied, "but as one ofthe most foolish. " The stranger lays his head upon the block, receives a blow which sends it rolling from his shoulders, walksafter it, picks it up, replaces it with great success, and says hewill return when the court shall be assembled next year, and claimhis turn. When the anniversary arrived, both parties were punctualto their engagement. Great entreaties were used by the king andqueen, and the whole court, in behalf of Caradoc, but the strangerwas inflexible. The young knight laid his head upon the block, andmore than once desired him to make an end of the business, and notkeep him longer in so disagreeable a state of expectation. At lastthe stranger strikes him gently with the side of the sword, bidshim rise, and reveals to him the fact that he is his father, theenchanter Eliaures, and that he gladly owns him for a son, havingproved his courage and fidelity to his word. 

But the favor of enchanters is short-lived and uncertain. Eliauresfell under the influence of a wicked woman, who, to satisfy herpique against Caradoc, persuaded the enchanter to fasten on hisarm a serpent, which remained there sucking at his flesh andblood, no human skill sufficing either to remove the reptile oralleviate the torments which Caradoc endured. 

Caradoc was betrothed to Guimier, sister to his bosom friend, Cador, and daughter to the king of Cornwall. As soon as they wereinformed of his deplorable condition, they set out for Nantes, where Caradoc's castle was, that Guimier might attend upon him. When Caradoc heard of their coming, his first emotion was that ofjoy and love. But soon he began to fear that the sight of hisemaciated form, and of his sufferings, would disgust Guimier; andthis apprehension became so strong, that he departed secretly fromNantes, and hid himself in a hermitage. He was sought far and nearby the knights of Arthur's court, and Cador made a vow never todesist from the quest till he should have found him. After longwandering, Cador discovered his friend in the hermitage, reducedalmost to a skeleton, and apparently near his death. All othermeans of relief having already been tried in vain, Cador at lastprevailed on the enchanter Eliaures to disclose the only methodwhich could avail for his rescue. A maiden must be found, hisequal in birth and beauty, and loving him better than herself, sothat she would expose herself to the same torment to deliver him. Two vessels were then to be provided, the one filled with sourwine, and the other with milk. Caradoc must enter the first, sothat the wine should reach his neck, and the maiden must get intothe other, and, exposing her bosom upon the edge of the vessel, invite the serpent to forsake the withered flesh of his victim forthis fresh and inviting food. The vessels were to be placed threefeet apart, and as the serpent crossed from one to the other. Aknight was to cut him in two. If he failed in his blow, Caradocwould indeed be delivered, but it would be only to see his fairchampion suffering the same cruel and hopeless torment. The sequelmay be easily foreseen. Guimier willingly exposed herself to theperilous adventure, and Cador, with a lucky blow, killed theserpent. The arm in which Caradoc had suffered so long recoveredits strength, but not its shape, in consequence of which he wascalled Caradoc Briefbras, Caradoc of the Shrunken Arm. 

Caradoc and Guimier are the hero and heroine of the ballad Of the"Boy and the Mantle, " which follows:

 "THE BOY AND THE MANTLE

 "In Carlisle dwelt King Arthur, A prince of passing might, And there maintained his Table Round, Beset with many a knight. 

 "And there he kept his Christmas, With mirth and princely cheer, When lo! a strange and cunning boy Before him did appear. 

 "A kirtle and a mantle This boy had him upon, With brooches, rings, and ouches, Full daintily bedone. 

 "He had a sash of silk About his middle meet; And thus with seemly curtesie He did King Arthur greet:

 "'God speed thee, brave King Arthur. Thus feasting in thy bower, And Guenever, thy goodly queen, That fair and peerless flower. 

 "'Ye gallant lords and lordlings, I wish you all take heed, Lest what ye deem a blooming rose Should prove a cankered weed. '

 "Then straightway from his bosom A little wand he drew; And with it eke a mantle, Of wondrous shape and hue. 

 "'Now have thou here, King Arthur, Have this here of me, And give unto thy comely queen, All shapen as you see. 

 "'No wife it shall become, That once hath been to blame. ' Then every knight in Arthur's court Sly glanced at his dame. 

 "And first came Lady Guenever, The mantle she must try. This dame she was new-fangled, [1] And of a roving eye. 

 "When she had taken the mantle, And all with it was clad, From top to toe it shivered down, As though with shears beshred. 

 "One while it was too long, Another while too short, And wrinkled on her shoulders, In most unseemly sort. 

 "Now green, now red it seemed, Then all of sable hue; 'Beshrew me, ' quoth King Arthur, 'I think thou be'st not true!'

 "Down she threw the mantle, No longer would she stay; But, storming like a fury, To her chamber flung away. 

 "She cursed the rascal weaver, That had the mantle wrought; And doubly cursed the froward imp Who thither had it brought. 

 I had rather live in deserts, Beneath the greenwood tree, Than here, base king, among thy grooms The sport of them and thee. '

 "Sir Kay called forth his lady, And bade her to come near: 'Yet dame, if thou be guilty, I pray thee now forbear. '

 "This lady, pertly giggling, With forward step came on, And boldly to the little boy With fearless face is gone. 

 "When she had taken the mantle, With purpose for to wear, It shrunk up to her shoulder, And left her back all bare. 

 "Then every merry knight, That was in Arthur's court, Gibed and laughed and flouted, To see that pleasant sport. 

 "Down she threw the mantle, No longer bold or gay, But, with a face all pale and wan To her chamber slunk away. 

 "Then forth came an old knight A pattering o'er his creed, And proffered to the little boy Five nobles to his meed:

 "'And all the time of Christmas Plum-porridge shall be thine, If thou wilt let my lady fair Within the mantle shine. '

 "A saint his lady seemed, With step demure and slow, And gravely to the mantle With mincing face doth go. 

 "When she the same had taken That was so fine and thin, It shrivelled all about her, And showed her dainty skin. 

 "Ah! little did her mincing, Or his long prayers bestead; She had no more hung on her Than a tassel and a thread. 

 "Down she threw the mantle, With terror and dismay, And with a face of scarlet To her chamber hied away. 

 "Sir Cradock called his lady, And bade her to come near: 'Come win this mantle, lady, And do me credit here:

 "'Come win this mantle, lady, For now it shall be thine, If thou hast never done amiss, Since first I made thee mine. '

 "The lady, gently blushing, With modest grace came on; And now to try the wondrous charm Courageously is gone. 

 "When she had ta'en the mantle, And put it on her back, About the hem it seemed To wrinkle and to crack. 

 "'Lie still, ' she cried, 'O mantle! And shame me not for naught; I'll freely own whate'er amiss Or blameful I have wrought. 

 "'Once I kissed Sir Cradock Beneath the greenwood tree; Once I kissed Sir Cradock's mouth, Before he married me. '

 "When she had thus her shriven, And her worst fault had told, The mantle soon became her, Right comely as it should. 

 "Most rich and fair of color, Like gold it glittering shone, And much the knights in Arthur's court Admired her every one. "

[Footnote 1: New-fangled--fond of novelty. ]

The ballad goes on to tell of two more trials of a similar kind, made by means of a boar's head and a drinking horn, in both ofwhich the result was equally favorable with the first to SirCradock and his lady. It then concludes as follows:

 "Thus boar's head, horn, and mantle Were this fair couple's meed; And all such constant lovers, God send them well to speed"

 --Percy's Reliques. 

CHAPTER VIII

LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE

King Ban, of Brittany, the faithful ally of Arthur was attacked byhis enemy Claudas, and after a long war saw himself reduced to thepossession of a single fortress, where he was besieged by hisenemy. In this extremity he determined to solicit the assistanceof Arthur, and escaped in a dark night, with his wife Helen andhis infant son Launcelot, leaving his castle in the hands of hisseneschal, who immediately surrendered the place to Claudas. Theflames of his burning citadel reached the eyes of the unfortunatemonarch during his flight and he expired with grief. The wretchedHelen, leaving her child on the brink of a lake, flew to receivethe last sighs of her husband, and on returning perceived thelittle Launcelot in the arms of a nymph, who, on the approach ofthe queen, threw herself into the lake with the child. This nymphwas Viviane, mistress of the enchanter Merlin, better known by thename of the Lady of the Lake. Launcelot received his appellationfrom having been educated at the court of this enchantress, whosepalace was situated in the midst, not of a real, but, like theappearance which deceives the African traveller, of an imaginarylake, whose deluding resemblance served as a barrier to herresidence. Here she dwelt not alone, but in the midst of anumerous retinue, and a splendid court of knights and damsels. 

The queen, after her double loss, retired to a convent, where shewas joined by the widow of Bohort, for this good king had died ofgrief on hearing of the death of his brother Ban. His two sons, Lionel and Bohort, were rescued by a faithful knight, and arrivedin the shape of greyhounds at the palace of the lake, where, having resumed their natural form, they were educated along withtheir cousin Launcelot. 

The fairy, when her pupil had attained the age of eighteen, conveyed him to the court of Arthur for the purpose of demandinghis admission to the honor of knighthood; and at the firstappearance of the youthful candidate the graces of his person, which were not inferior to his courage and skill in arms, made aninstantaneous and indelible impression on the heart of Guenever, while her charms inspired him with an equally ardent and constantpassion. The mutual attachment of these lovers exerted, from thattime forth, an influence over the whole history of Arthur. For thesake of Guenever, Launcelot achieved the conquest ofNorthumberland, defeated Gallehaut, King of the Marches, whoafterwards became his most faithful friend and ally, exposedhimself in numberless encounters, and brought hosts of prisonersto the feet of his sovereign. 

SIR LAUNCELOT

After King Arthur was come from Rome into England all the knightsof the Table Round resorted unto him and made him many justs andtournaments. And in especial Sir Launcelot of the Lake in alltournaments and justs and deeds of arms, both for life and death, passed all other knights, and was never overcome, except it wereby treason or enchantment; and he increased marvellously inworship, wherefore Queen Guenever had him in great favor, aboveall other knights. And for certain he loved the queen again aboveall other ladies; and for her he did many deeds of arms, and savedher from peril, through his noble chivalry. Thus Sir Launcelotrested him long with play and game, and then he thought to provehimself in strange adventures; so he bade his nephew, Sir Lionel, to make him ready, -- "for we two will seek adventures. " So theymounted on their horses, armed at all sights, and rode into aforest, and so into a deep plain. And the weather was hot aboutnoon, and Sir Launcelot had great desire to sleep. Then Sir Lionelespied a great apple-tree that stood by a hedge, and he said:"Brother, yonder is a fair shadow--there may we rest us and ourhorses. " "It is well said, " replied Sir Launcelot. So they therealighted, and Sir Launcelot laid him down, and his helm under hishead, and soon was asleep passing fast. And Sir Lionel waked whilehe slept. And presently there came three knights riding as fast asever they might ride, and there followed them but one knight. AndSir Lionel thought he never saw so great a knight before. Sowithin a while this great knight overtook one of those knights, and smote him so that he fell to the earth. Then he rode to thesecond knight and smote him, and so he did to the third knight. Then he alighted down and bound all the three knights fast withtheir own bridles. When Sir Lionel saw him do thus, he thought toassay him, and made him ready silently, not to awake SirLauncelot, and rode after the strong knight, and bade him turn. And the other smote Sir Lionel so hard that horse and man fell tothe earth; and then he alighted down and bound Sir Lionel, andthrew him across his own horse; and so he served them all four, and rode with them away to his own castle. And when he came therehe put them in a deep prison, in which were many more knights ingreat distress. 

Now while Sir Launcelot lay under the apple-tree sleeping, therecame by him four queens of great estate. And that the heat shouldnot grieve them, there rode four knights about them, and bare acloth of green silk on four spears, betwixt them and the sun. Andthe queens rode on four white mules. 

Thus as they rode they heard by them a great horse grimly neigh. Then they were aware of a sleeping knight, that lay all armedunder an apple-tree; and as the queens looked on his face, theyknew it was Sir Launcelot. Then they began to strive for thatknight, and each one said she would have him for her love. "Wewill not strive, " said Morgane le Fay, that was King Arthur'ssister, "for I will put an enchantment upon him, that he shall notwake for six hours, and we will take him away to my castle; andthen when he is surely within my hold, I will take the enchantmentfrom him, and then let him choose which of us he will have for hislove. " So the enchantment was cast upon Sir Launcelot. And thenthey laid him upon his shield, and bare him so on horsebackbetween two knights, and brought him unto the castle and laid himin a chamber, and at night they sent him his supper. And on themorning came early those four queens, richly dight, and bade himgood morning, and he them again. "Sir knight, " they said, "thoumust understand thou art our prisoner; and we know thee well, thatthou art Sir Launcelot of the Lake, King Ban's son, and that thouart the noblest knight living. And we know well that there can nolady have thy love but one, and that is Queen Guenever; and nowthou shalt lose her for ever, and she thee; and therefore itbehooveth thee now to choose one of us. I am the Queen Morgane leFay, and here is the Queen of North Wales, and the Queen ofEastland, and the Queen of the Isles. Now choose one of us whichthou wilt have, for if thou choose not, in this prison thou shaltdie. " "This is a hard case, " said Sir Launcelot, "that either Imust die, or else choose one of you; yet had I liever to die inthis prison with worship, than to have one of you for my paramour, for ye be false enchantresses. " "Well, " said the queens, "is thisyour answer, that ye will refuse us. " "Yea, on my life it is, "said Sir Launcelot. Then they departed, making great sorrow. 

Then at noon came a damsel unto him with his dinner, and askedhim, "What cheer?" "Truly, fair damsel, " said Sir Launcelot, "never so ill. " "Sir, " said she, "if you will be ruled by me, Iwill help you out of this distress. If ye will promise me to helpmy father on Tuesday next, who hath made a tournament betwixt himand the king of North Wales; for last Tuesday my father lost thefield. " "Fair maiden, " said Sir Launcelot, "tell me what is yourfather's name, and then will I give you an answer. " "Sir knight, "she said, "my father is King Bagdemagus. " "I know him well, " saidSir Launcelot, "for a noble king and a good knight; and, by thefaith of my body, I will be ready to do your father and youservice at that day. "

So she departed, and came on the next morning early and found himready, and brought him out of twelve locks, and brought him to hisown horse, and lightly he saddled him, and so rode forth. 

And on the Tuesday next he came to a little wood where thetournament should be. And there were scaffolds and holds, thatlords and ladies might look on, and give the prize. Then came intothe field the king of North Wales, with eightscore helms, and KingBadgemagus came with fourscore helms. And then they couched theirspears, and came together with a great dash, and there wereoverthrown at the first encounter twelve of King Bagdemagus'sparty and six of the king of North Wales's party, and KingBagdemagus's party had the worse. 

With that came Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and thrust in with hisspear in the thickest of the press; and he smote down five knightsere he held his hand; and he smote down the king of North Wales, and he brake his thigh in that fall. And then the knights of theking of North Wales would just no more; and so the gree was givento King Bagdemagus. 

And Sir Launcelot rode forth with King Bagdemagus unto his castle;and there he had passing good cheer, both with the king and withhis daughter. And on the morn he took his leave, and told the kinghe would go and seek his brother, Sir Lionel, that went from himwhen he slept. So he departed, and by adventure he came to thesame forest where he was taken sleeping. And in the highway he meta damsel riding on a white palfrey, and they saluted each other. "Fair damsel, " said Sir Launcelot, "know ye in this country anyadventures?" "Sir knight, " said the damsel, "here are adventuresnear at hand, if thou durst pursue them. " "Why should I not proveadventures?" said Sir Launcelot, "since for that cause came Ihither. " "Sir, " said she, "hereby dwelleth a knight that will notbe overmatched for any man I know, except thou overmatch him. Hisname is Sir Turquine, and, as I understand, he is a deadly enemyof King Arthur, and he has in his prison good knights of Arthur'scourt, threescore and more, that he hath won with his own hands. ""Damsel, " said Launcelot, "I pray you bring me unto this knight. "So she told him, "Hereby, within this mile, is his castle, and byit on the left hand is a ford for horses to drink of, and overthat ford there groweth a fair tree, and on that tree hang manyshields that good knights wielded aforetime, that are nowprisoners; and on the tree hangeth a basin of copper and latten, and if thou strike upon that basin thou shalt hear tidings. " AndSir Launcelot departed, and rode as the damsel had shown him, andshortly he came to the ford, and the tree where hung the shieldsand the basin. And among the shields he saw Sir Lionel's and SirHector's shields, besides many others of knights that he knew. 

Then Sir Launcelot struck on the basin with the butt of his spear;and long he did so, but he saw no man. And at length he was wareof a great knight that drove a horse before him, and across thehorse there lay an armed knight bounden. And as they came near, Sir Launcelot thought he should know the captive knight. Then SirLauncelot saw that it was Sir Gaheris, Sir Gawain's brother, aknight of the Table Round. "Now, fair knight, " said Sir Launcelot, "put that wounded knight off the horse, and let him rest awhile, and let us two prove our strength. For, as it is told me, thouhast done great despite and shame unto knights of the Round Table, therefore now defend thee. " "If thou be of the Table Round, " saidSir Turquine, "I defy thee and all thy fellowship. " "That isovermuch said, " said Sir Launcelot. 

Then they put their spears in the rests, and came together withtheir horses as fast as they might run. And each smote the otherin the middle of their shields, so that their horses fell underthem, and the knights were both staggered; and as soon as theycould clear their horses they drew out their swords and cametogether eagerly, and each gave the other many strong strokes, forneither shield nor harness might withstand their strokes. Sowithin a while both had grimly wounds, and bled grievously. Thenat the last they were breathless both, and stood leaning upontheir swords. "Now, fellow, " said Sir Turquine, "thou art thestoutest man that ever I met with, and best breathed; and so be itthou be not the knight that I hate above all other knights, theknight that slew my brother, Sir Carados, I will gladly accordwith thee; and for thy love I will deliver all the prisoners thatI have. "

"What knight is he that thou hatest so above others?" "Truly, "said Sir Turquine, "his name is Sir Launcelot of the Lake. " "I amSir Launcelot of the Lake, King Ban's son of Benwick, and veryknight of the Table Round; and now I defy thee do thy best. " "Ah!"said Sir Turquine, "Launcelot, thou art to me the most welcomethat ever was knight; for we shall never part till the one of usbe dead. " And then they hurtled together like two wild bulls, rashing and lashing with their swords and shields, so thatsometimes they fell, as it were, headlong. Thus they fought twohours and more, till the ground where they fought was allbepurpled with blood. 

Then at the last Sir Turquine waxed sore faint, and gave somewhataback, and bare his shield full low for weariness. That spied SirLauncelot, and leapt then upon him fiercely as a lion, and tookhim by the beaver of his helmet, and drew him down on his knees. And he raised off his helm, and smote his neck in sunder. 

And Sir Gaheris, when he saw Sir Turquine slain, said, "Fair lord, I pray you tell me your name, for this day I say ye are the bestknight in the world, for ye have slain this day in my sight themightiest man and the best knight except you that ever I saw. ""Sir, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lac, that ought to help you ofright for King Arthur's sake, and in especial for Sir Gawain'ssake, your own dear brother. Now I pray you, that ye go intoyonder castle, and set free all the prisoners ye find there, for Iam sure ye shall find there many knights of the Table Round, andespecially my brother Sir Lionel. I pray you greet them all fromme, and tell them I bid them take there such stuff as they find;and tell my brother to go unto the court and abide me there, forby the feast of Pentecost I think to be there; but at this time Imay not stop, for I have adventures on hand. " So he departed, andSir Gaheris rode into the castle, and took the keys from theporter, and hastily opened the prison door and let out all theprisoners. There was Sir Kay, Sir Brandeles, and Sir Galynde, SirBryan, and Sir Alyduke, Sir Hector de Marys, and Sir Lionel, andmany more. And when they saw Sir Gaheris they all thanked him, forthey thought, because he was wounded, that he had slain SirTurquine. "Not so, " said Sir Gaheris; "it was Sir Launcelot thatslew him, right worshipfully; I saw it with mine eyes. "

Sir Launcelot rode till at nightfall he came to a fair castle, andtherein he found an old gentlewoman, who lodged him with good-will, and there he had good cheer for him and his horse. And whentime was, his host brought him to a fair chamber over the gate tohis bed. Then Sir Launcelot unarmed him, and set his harness byhim, and went to bed, and anon he fell asleep. And soon after, there came one on horseback and knocked at the gate in greathaste; and when Sir Launcelot heard this, he arose and looked outof the window, and saw by the moonlight three knights riding afterthat one man, and all three lashed on him with their swords, andthat one knight turned on them knightly again and defendedhimself. "Truly, " said Sir Launcelot, "yonder one knight will Ihelp, for it is shame to see three knights on one. " Then he tookhis harness and went out at the window by a sheet down to the fourknights; and he said aloud, "Turn you knights unto me, and leaveyour fighting with that knight. " Then the knights left Sir Kay, for it was he they were upon, and turned unto Sir Launcelot, andstruck many great strokes at Sir Launcelot, and assailed him onevery side. Then Sir Kay addressed him to help Sir Launcelot, buthe said, "Nay, sir, I will none of your help; let me alone withthem. " So Sir Kay suffered him to do his will, and stood one side. And within six strokes Sir Launcelot had stricken them down. 

Then they all cried, "Sir knight, we yield us unto you. " "As tothat, " said Sir Launcelot, "I will not take your yielding unto me. If so be ye will yield you unto Sir Kay the Seneschal, I will saveyour lives, but else not. " "Fair knight, " then they said, "we willdo as thou commandest us. " "Then shall ye, " said Sir Launcelot, "on Whitsunday next, go unto the court of King Arthur, and thereshall ye yield you unto Queen Guenever, and say that Sir Kay sentyou thither to be her prisoners. " "Sir, " they said, "it shall bedone, by the faith of our bodies;" and then they swore, everyknight upon his sword. And so Sir Launcelot suffered them todepart. 

On the morn Sir Launcelot rose early and left Sir Kay sleeping;and Sir Launcelot took Sir Kay's armor, and his shield, and armedhim, and went to the stable and took his horse, and so hedeparted. Then soon after arose Sir Kay, and missed Sir Launcelot. And then he espied that he had taken his armor and his horse. "Now, by my faith, I know well, " said Sir Kay, "that he willgrieve some of King Arthur's knights, for they will deem that itis I, and will be bold to meet him. But by cause of his armor I amsure I shall ride in peace. " Then Sir Kay thanked his host anddeparted. 

Sir Launcelot rode in a deep forest, and there he saw fourknights, under an oak, and they were of Arthur's court. There wasSir Sagramour le Desirus, and Hector de Marys, and Sir Gawain, andSir Uwaine. As they spied Sir Launcelot they judged by his arms ithad been Sir Kay. "Now, by my faith, " said Sir Sagramour, "I willprove Sir Kay's might;" and got his spear in his hand, and cametowards Sir Launcelot. Therewith Sir Launcelot couched his spearagainst him, and smote Sir Sagramour so sore that horse and manfell both to the earth. Then said Sir Hector, "Now shall ye seewhat I may do with him. " But he fared worse than Sir Sagramour, for Sir Launcelot's spear went through his shoulder and bare himfrom his horse to the ground. "By my faith, " said Sir Uwaine, "yonder is a strong knight, and I fear he hath slain Sir Kay, andtaken his armor. " And therewith Sir Uwaine took his spear in hand, and rode toward Sir Launcelot; and Sir Launcelot met him on theplain and gave him such a buffet that he was staggered, and wistnot where he was. "Now see I well, " said Sir Gawain, "that I mustencounter with that knight. " Then he adjusted his shield, and tooka good spear in his hand, and Sir Launcelot knew him well. Thenthey let run their horses with all their mights, and each knightsmote the other in the middle of his shield. But Sir Gawain'sspear broke, and Sir Launcelot charged so sore upon him that hishorse fell over backward. Then Sir Launcelot passed by smilingwith himself, and he said, "Good luck be with him that made thisspear, for never came a better into my hand. " Then the fourknights went each to the other and comforted one another. "Whatsay ye to this adventure, " said Sir Gawain, "that one spear hathfelled us all four?" "I dare lay my head it is Sir Launcelot, "said Sir Hector; "I know it by his riding. "

And Sir Launcelot rode through many strange countries, till byfortune he came to a fair castle; and as he passed beyond thecastle he thought he heard two bells ring. And then he perceivedhow a falcon came flying over his head, toward a high elm; and shehad long lunys [Footnote: LUNYS, the string with which the falconis held. ] about her feet, and she flew unto the elm to take herperch, and the lunys got entangled in the bough; and when shewould have taken her flight, she hung by the legs fast, and SirLauncelot saw how she hung, and beheld the fair falcon entangled, and he was sorry for her. Then came a lady out of the castle andcried aloud, "O Launcelot, Launcelot, as thou art the flower ofall knights, help me to get my hawk; for if my hawk be lost, mylord will slay me, he is so hasty. " "What is your lord's name?"said Sir Launcelot. "His name is Sir Phelot, a knight thatbelongeth to the king of North Wales. " "Well, fair lady, since yeknow my name, and require me of knighthood to help you, I will dowhat I may to get your hawk; and yet in truth I am an ill climber, and the tree is passing high, and few boughs to help me. " Andtherewith Sir Launcelot alighted and tied his horse to the tree, and prayed the lady to unarm him. And when he was unarmed, he putoff his jerkin, and with might and force he clomb up to thefalcon, and tied the lunys to a rotten bough, and threw the hawkdown with it; and the lady got the hawk in her hand. Then suddenlythere came out of the castle her husband, all armed, and with hisnaked sword in his hand, and said, "O Knight Launcelot, now have Igot thee as I would, " and stood at the boll of the tree to slayhim. "Ah, lady!" said Sir Launcelot, "why have ye betrayed me?""She hath done, " said Sir Phelot, "but as I commanded her; andtherefore there is none other way but thine hour is come, and thoumust die. " "That were shame unto thee, " said Sir Launcelot; "thouan armed knight to slay a naked man by treason. " "Thou gettestnone other grace, " said Sir Phelot, "and therefore help thyself ifthou canst. " "Alas!" said Sir Launcelot, "that ever a knightshould die weaponless!" And therewith he turned his eyes upwardand downward; and over his head he saw a big bough leafless, andhe brake it off from the trunk. And then he came lower, andwatched how his own horse stood; and suddenly he leapt on thefurther side of his horse from the knight. Then Sir Phelot lashedat him eagerly, meaning to have slain him. But Sir Launcelot putaway the stroke, with the big bough, and smote Sir Phelottherewith on the side of the head, so that he fell down in a swoonto the ground. Then Sir Launcelot took his sword out of his handand struck his head from the body. Then said the lady, "Alas! whyhast thou slain my husband?" "I am not the cause, " said SirLauncelot, "for with falsehood ye would have slain me, and now itis fallen on yourselves. " Thereupon Sir Launcelot got all hisarmor, and put it upon him hastily, for fear of more resort, forthe knight's castle was so nigh. And as soon as he might, he tookhis horse and departed, and thanked God he had escaped thatadventure. 

And two days before the feast of Pentecost, Sir Launcelot camehome; and the king and all the court were passing glad of hiscoming. And when Sir Gawain, Sir Uwaine, Sir Sagramour, and SirHector de Marys saw Sir Launcelot in Sir Kay's armor then theywist well it was he that smote them down, all with one spear. Thenthere was laughing and merriment among them; and from time to timecame all the knights that Sir Turquine had prisoners, and they allhonored and worshipped Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Gaheris said, "Isaw all the battle from the beginning to the end, " and he toldKing Arthur all how it was. Then Sir Kay told the king how SirLauncelot had rescued him, and how he "made the knights yield tome, and not to him. " And there they were, all three, and confirmedit all "And, by my faith, " said Sir Kay, "because Sir Launcelottook my harness and left me his, I rode in peace, and no man wouldhave to do with me. "

And so at that time Sir Launcelot had the greatest name of anyknight of the world, and most was he honored of high and low. 

CHAPTER IX

THE ADVENTURE OF THE CART

It befell in the month of May, Queen Guenever called to herknights of the Table Round, and gave them warning that early uponthe morrow she would ride a-maying into the woods and fieldsbeside Westminster; "and I warn you that there be none of you buthe be well horsed, and that ye all be clothed in green, eithersilk or cloth; and I shall bring with me ten ladies, and everyknight shall have a lady behind him, and every knight shall have asquire and two yeoman, and all well horsed. "

 "For thus it chanced one morn when all the court, Green-suited, but with plumes that mock'd the May, Had been, their wont, a-maying"

 --Guinevere. 

So they made them ready; and these were the names of the knights:Sir Kay the Seneschal, Sir Agrivaine, Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramourle Desirus, Sir Dodynas le Sauvage, Sir Ozanna, Sir Ladynas, SirPersant of Inde, Sir Ironside, and Sir Pelleas; and these tenknights made them ready, in the freshest manner, to ride with thequeen. So upon the morn they took their horses with the queen, androde a-maying in woods and meadows, as it pleased them, in greatjoy and delight. Now there was a knight named Maleagans, son toKing Brademagus, who loved Queen Guenever passing well, and so hadhe done long and many years. Now this knight, Sir Maleagans, learned the queen's purpose, and that she had no men of arms withher but the ten noble knights all arrayed in green for maying; sohe prepared him twenty men of arms, and a hundred archers, to takecaptive the queen and her knights. 

 "In the merry month of May, In a morn at break of day, With a troop of damsels playing, The Queen, forsooth, went forth a-maying. "

 --Old Song. 

So when the queen had mayed, and all were bedecked with herbs, mosses, and flowers in the best manner and freshest, right thencame out of a wood Sir Maleagans with eightscore men wellharnessed, and bade the queen and her knights yield themprisoners. "Traitor knight, " said Queen Guenever, "what wilt thoudo? Wilt thou shame thyself? Bethink thee how thou art a king'sson, and a knight of the Table Round, and how thou art about todishonor all knighthood and thyself?" "Be it as it may, " said SirMaleagans, "know you well, madam, I have loved you many a year andnever till now could I get you to such advantage as I do now; andtherefore I will take you as I find you. " Then the ten knights ofthe Round Table drew their swords, and the other party run at themwith their spears, and the ten knights manfully abode them, andsmote away their spears. Then they lashed together with swordstill several were smitten to the earth. So when the queen saw herknights thus dolefully oppressed, and needs must be slain at thelast, then for pity and sorrow she cried, "Sir Maleagans, slay notmy noble knights and I will go with you, upon this covenant, thatthey be led with me wheresoever thou leadest me. " "Madame, " saidMaleagans, "for your sake they shall be led with you into my owncastle, if that ye will be ruled, and ride with me. " Then SirMaleagans charged them all that none should depart from the queen, for he dreaded lest Sir Launcelot should have knowledge of whathad been done. 

Then the queen privily called unto her a page of her chamber thatwas swiftly horsed, to whom she said, "Go thou when thou seest thytime, and bear this ring unto Sir Launcelot, and pray him as heloveth me, that he will see me and rescue me. And spare not thyhorse, " said the queen, "neither for water nor for land. " So thechild espied his time, and lightly he took his horse with thespurs and departed as fast as he might. And when Sir Maleagans sawhim so flee, he understood that it was by the queen's commandmentfor to warn Sir Launcelot. Then they that were best horsed chasedhim, and shot at him, but the child went from them all. Then SirMaleagans said to the queen, "Madam, ye are about to betray me, but I shall arrange for Sir Launcelot that he shall not comelightly at you. " Then he rode with her and them all to his castle, in all the haste that they might. And by the way Sir Maleaganslaid in ambush the best archers that he had to wait for SirLauncelot. And the child came to Westminster and found SirLauncelot and told his message and delivered him the queen's ring. "Alas!" said Sir Launcelot, "now am I shamed for ever, unless Imay rescue that noble lady. " Then eagerly he asked his armor andput it on him, and mounted his horse and rode as fast as he might;and men say he took the water at Westminster Bridge, and made hishorse swim over Thames unto Lambeth. Then within a while he cameto a wood where was a narrow way; and there the archers were laidin ambush. And they shot at him and smote his horse so that hefell. Then Sir Launcelot left his horse and went on foot, butthere lay so many ditches and hedges betwixt the archers and himthat he might not meddle with them. "Alas! for shame, " said SirLauncelot, "that ever one knight should betray another! but it isan old saw, a good man is never in danger, but when he is indanger of a coward. " Then Sir Launcelot went awhile and he wasexceedingly cumbered by his armor, his shield, and his spear, andall that belonged to him. Then by chance there came by him a cartthat came thither to fetch wood. 

Now at this time carts were little used except for carrying offaland for conveying criminals to execution. But Sir Launcelot tookno thought of anything but the necessity of haste for the purposeof rescuing the queen; so he demanded of the carter that he shouldtake him in and convey him as speedily as possible for a liberalreward. The carter consented, and Sir Launcelot placed himself inthe cart and only lamented that with much jolting he made butlittle progress. Then it happened Sir Gawain passed by and seeingan armed knight travelling in that unusual way he drew near to seewho it might be. Then Sir Launcelot told him how the queen hadbeen carried off, and how, in hastening to her rescue, his horsehad been disabled and he had been compelled to avail himself ofthe cart rather than give up his enterprise. Then Sir Gawain said, "Surely it is unworthy of a knight to travel in such sort;" butSir Launcelot heeded him not. 

At nightfall they arrived at a castle and the lady thereof cameout at the head of her damsels to welcome Sir Gawain. But to admithis companion, whom she supposed to be a criminal, or at least aprisoner, it pleased her not; however, to oblige Sir Gawain, sheconsented. At supper Sir Launcelot came near being consigned tothe kitchen and was only admitted to the lady's table at theearnest solicitation of Sir Gawain. Neither would the damselsprepare a bed for him. He seized the first he found unoccupied andwas left undisturbed. 

Next morning he saw from the turrets of the castle a trainaccompanying a lady, whom he imagined to be the queen. Sir Gawainthought it might be so, and became equally eager to depart. Thelady of the castle supplied Sir Launcelot with a horse and theytraversed the plain at full speed. They learned from sometravellers whom they met, that there were two roads which led tothe castle of Sir Maleagans. Here therefore the friends separated. Sir Launcelot found his way beset with obstacles, which heencountered successfully, but not without much loss of time. Asevening approached he was met by a young and sportive damsel, whogayly proposed to him a supper at her castle. The knight, who washungry and weary, accepted the offer, though with no very goodgrace. He followed the lady to her castle and ate voraciously ofher supper, but was quite impenetrable to all her amorousadvances. Suddenly the scene changed and he was assailed by sixfurious ruffians, whom he dealt with so vigorously that most ofthem were speedily disabled, when again there was a change and hefound himself alone with his fair hostess, who informed him thatshe was none other than his guardian fairy, who had but subjectedhim to tests of his courage and fidelity. The next day the fairybrought him on his road, and before parting gave him a ring, whichshe told him would by its changes of color disclose to him allenchantments, and enable him to subdue them. 

Sir Launcelot pursued his journey, without being much incommodedexcept by the taunts of travellers, who all seemed to havelearned, by some means, his disgraceful drive in the cart. One, more insolent than the rest, had the audacity to interrupt himduring dinner, and even to risk a battle in support of hispleasantry. Launcelot, after an easy victory, only doomed him tobe carted in his turn. 

At night he was received at another castle, with great apparenthospitality, but found himself in the morning in a dungeon, andloaded with chains. Consulting his ring, and finding that this wasan enchantment, he burst his chains, seized his armor in spite ofthe visionary monsters who attempted to defend it, broke open thegates of the tower, and continued his journey. At length hisprogress was checked by a wide and rapid torrent, which could onlybe passed on a narrow bridge, on which a false step would provehis destruction. Launcelot, leading his horse by the bridle, andmaking him swim by his side, passed over the bridge, and wasattacked as soon as he reached the bank by a lion and a leopard, both of which he slew, and then, exhausted and bleeding, seatedhimself on the grass, and endeavored to bind up his wounds, whenhe was accosted by Brademagus, the father of Maleagans, whosecastle was then in sight, and at no great distance. This king, noless courteous than his son was haughty and insolent, aftercomplimenting Sir Launcelot on the valor and skill he haddisplayed in the perils of the bridge and the wild beasts, offeredhim his assistance, and informed him that the queen was safe inhis castle, but could only be rescued by encountering Maleagans. Launcelot demanded the battle for the next day, and accordingly ittook place, at the foot of the tower, and under the eyes of thefair captive. Launcelot was enfeebled by his wounds, and foughtnot with his usual spirit, and the contest for a time wasdoubtful; till Guenever exclaimed, "Ah, Launcelot! my knight, truly have I been told that thou art no longer worthy of me!"These words instantly revived the drooping knight; he resumed atonce his usual superiority, and soon laid at his feet his haughtyadversary. 

He was on the point of sacrificing him to his resentment, whenGuenever, moved by the entreaties of Brademagus, ordered him towithhold the blow, and he obeyed. The castle and its prisonerswere now at his disposal. Launcelot hastened to the apartment ofthe queen, threw himself at her feet, and was about to kiss herhand, when she exclaimed, "Ah, Launcelot! why do I see thee again, yet feel thee to be no longer worthy of me, after having beendisgracefully drawn about the country in a--" She had not time tofinish the phrase, for her lover suddenly started from her, and, bitterly lamenting that he had incurred the displeasure of hissovereign lady, rushed out of the castle, threw his sword and hisshield to the right and left, ran furiously into the woods, anddisappeared. 

It seems that the story of the abominable cart, which hauntedLauncelot at every step, had reached the ears of Sir Kay, who hadtold it to the queen, as a proof that her knight must have beendishonored. But Guenever had full leisure to repent the haste withwhich she had given credit to the tale. Three days elapsed, duringwhich Launcelot wandered without knowing where he went, till atlast he began to reflect that his mistress had doubtless beendeceived by misrepresentation, and that it was his duty to set herright. He therefore returned, compelled Maleagans to release hisprisoners, and, taking the road by which they expected the arrivalof Sir Gawain, had the satisfaction of meeting him the next day;after which the whole company proceeded gayly towards Camelot. 

CHAPTER X

THE LADY OF SHALOTT

King Arthur proclaimed a solemn tournament to be held atWinchester. The king, not less impatient than his knights for thisfestival, set off some days before to superintend thepreparations, leaving the queen with her court at Camelot. SirLauncelot, under pretence of indisposition, remained behind also. His intention was to attend the tournament--in disguise; andhaving communicated his project to Guenever, he mounted his horse, set off without any attendant, and, counterfeiting the feeblenessof age, took the most unfrequented road to Winchester, and passedunnoticed as an old knight who was going to be a spectator of thesports. Even Arthur and Gawain, who happened to behold him fromthe windows of a castle under which he passed, were the dupes ofhis disguise. But an accident betrayed him. His horse happened tostumble, and the hero, forgetting for a moment his assumedcharacter, recovered the animal with a strength and agility sopeculiar to himself, that they instantly recognized the inimitableLauncelot. They suffered him, however, to proceed on his journeywithout interruption, convinced that his extraordinary feats ofarms must discover him at the approaching festival. 

In the evening Launcelot was magnificently entertained as astranger knight at the neighboring castle of Shalott. The lord ofthis castle had a daughter of exquisite beauty, and two sonslately received into the order of knighthood, one of whom was atthat time ill in bed, and thereby prevented from attending thetournament, for which both brothers had long made preparation. Launcelot offered to attend the other, if he were permitted toborrow the armor of the invalid, and the lord of Shalott, withoutknowing the name of his guest, being satisfied from his appearancethat his son could not have a better assistant in arms, mostthankfully accepted the offer. In the meantime the young lady, whohad been much struck by the first appearance of the strangerknight, continued to survey him with increased attention, and, before the conclusion of supper, became so deeply enamoured ofhim, that after frequent changes of color, and other symptomswhich Sir Launcelot could not possibly mistake, she was obliged toretire to her chamber, and seek relief in tears. Sir Launcelothastened to convey to her, by means of her brother, theinformation that his heart was already disposed of, but that itwould be his pride and pleasure to act as her knight at theapproaching tournament. The lady, obliged to be satisfied withthat courtesy, presented him her scarf to be worn at thetournament. 

Launcelot set off in the morning with the young knight, who, ontheir approaching Winchester, carried him to the castle of a lady, sister to the lord of Shalott, by whom they were hospitablyentertained. The next day they put on their armor, which wasperfectly plain and without any device, as was usual to youthsduring the first year of knighthood, their shields being onlypainted red, as some color was necessary to enable them to berecognized by their attendants. Launcelot wore on his crest thescarf of the maid of Shalott, and, thus equipped, proceeded to thetournament, where the knights were divided into two companies, theone commanded by Sir Galehaut, the other by King Arthur. Havingsurveyed the combat for a short time from without the lists, andobserved that Sir Galehaut's party began to give way, they joinedthe press and attacked the royal knights, the young man choosingsuch adversaries as were suited to his strength, while hiscompanion selected the principal champions of the Round Table, andsuccessively overthrew Gawain, Bohort, and Lionel. Theastonishment of the spectators was extreme, for it was thoughtthat no one but Launcelot could possess such invincible force; yetthe favor on his crest seemed to preclude the possibility of hisbeing thus disguised, for Launcelot had never been known to wearthe badge of any but his sovereign lady. At length Sir Hector, Launcelot's brother, engaged him, and, after a dreadful combat, wounded him dangerously in the head, but was himself completelystunned by a blow on the helmet, and felled to the ground; afterwhich the conqueror rode off at full speed, attended by hiscompanion. 

They returned to the castle of Shalott, where Launcelot wasattended with the greatest care by the good earl, by his two sons, and, above all, by his fair daughter, whose medical skill probablymuch hastened the period of his recovery. His health was almostcompletely restored, when Sir Hector, Sir Bohort, and Sir Lionel, who, after the return of the court to Camelot, had undertaken thequest of their relation, discovered him walking on the walls ofthe castle. Their meeting was very joyful; they passed three daysin the castle amidst constant festivities, and bantered each otheron the events of the tournament. Launcelot, though he began byvowing vengeance against the author of his wound, yet ended bydeclaring that he felt rewarded for the pain by the pride he tookin witnessing his brother's extraordinary prowess. He thendismissed them with a message to the queen, promising to followimmediately, it being necessary that he should first take a formalleave of his kind hosts, as well as of the fair maid of Shalott. 

The young lady, after vainly attempting to detain him by her tearsand solicitations, saw him depart without leaving her any groundfor hope. 

It was early summer when the tournament took place; but somemonths had passed since Launcelot's departure, and winter was nownear at hand. The health and strength of the Lady of Shalott hadgradually sunk, and she felt that she could not live apart fromthe object of her affections. She left the castle, and descendingto the river's brink placed herself in a boat, which she loosedfrom its moorings, and suffered to bear her down the currenttoward Camelot. 

One morning, as Arthur and Sir Lionel looked from the window ofthe tower, the walls of which were washed by a river, theydescried a boat richly ornamented, and covered with an awning ofcloth of gold, which appeared to be floating down the streamwithout any human guidance. It struck the shore while they watchedit, and they hastened down to examine it. Beneath the awning theydiscovered the dead body of a beautiful woman, in whose featuresSir Lionel easily recognized the lovely maid of Shalott. Pursuingtheir search, they discovered a purse richly embroidered with goldand jewels, and within the purse a letter, which Arthur opened, and found addressed to himself and all the knights of the RoundTable, stating that Launcelot of the Lake, the most accomplishedof knights and most beautiful of men, but at the same time themost cruel and inflexible, had by his rigor produced the death ofthe wretched maiden, whose love was no less invincible than hiscruelty. The king immediately gave orders for the interment of thelady with all the honors suited to her rank, at the same timeexplaining to the knights the history of her affection forLauncelot, which moved the compassion and regret of all. 

Tennyson has chosen the story of the "Lady of Shalott" for thesubject of a poem. The catastrophe is told thus:

 "Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, A corse between the houses high, Silent into Camelot. Out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and burgher, lord and dame, And round the prow they read her name, 'The Lady of Shalott'

 "Who is this? and what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they crossed themselves for fear, All the knights at Camelot. But Launcelot mused a little space; He said, 'She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott. '"

CHAPTER XI

QUEEN GUENEVER'S PERIL

It happened at this time that Queen Guenever was thrown into greatperil of her life. A certain squire who was in her immediateservice, having some cause of animosity to Sir Gawain, determinedto destroy him by poison, at a public entertainment. For thispurpose he concealed the poison in an apple of fine appearance, which he placed on the top of several others, and put the dishbefore the queen, hoping that, as Sir Gawain was the knight ofgreatest dignity, she would present the apple to him. But ithappened that a Scottish knight of high distinction, who arrivedon that day, was seated next to the queen, and to him as astranger she presented the apple, which he had no sooner eatenthan he was seized with dreadful pain, and fell senseless. Thewhole court was, of course, thrown into confusion; the knightsrose from table, darting looks of indignation at the wretchedqueen, whose tears and protestations were unable to remove theirsuspicions. In spite of all that could be done the knight died, and nothing remained but to order a magnificent funeral andmonument for him, which was done. 

Some time after Sir Mador, brother of the murdered knight, arrivedat Arthur's court in quest of him. While hunting in the forest heby chance came to the spot where the monument was erected, readthe inscription, and returned to court determined on immediate andsignal vengeance. He rode into the hall, loudly accused the queenof treason, and insisted on her being given up for punishment, unless she should find by a certain day a knight hardy enough torisk his life in support of her innocence. Arthur, powerful as hewas, did not dare to deny the appeal, but was compelled with aheavy heart to accept it, and Mador sternly took his departure, leaving the royal couple plunged in terror and anxiety. 

During all this time Launcelot was absent, and no one knew wherehe was. He fled in anger from his fair mistress, upon beingreproached by her with his passion for the Lady of Shalott, whichshe had hastily inferred from his wearing her scarf at thetournament. He took up his abode with a hermit in the forest, andresolved to think no more of the cruel beauty, whose conduct hethought must flow from a wish to get rid of him. Yet calmreflection had somewhat cooled his indignation, and he had begunto wish, though hardly able to hope, for a reconciliation when thenews of Sir Mador's challenge fortunately reached his ears. Theintelligence revived his spirits, and he began to prepare with theutmost cheerfulness for a contest which, if successful, wouldinsure him at once the affection of his mistress and the gratitudeof his sovereign. 

The sad fate of the Lady of Shalott had ere this completelyacquitted Launcelot in the queen's mind of all suspicion of hisfidelity, and she lamented most grievously her foolish quarrelwith him, which now, at her time of need, deprived her of her mostefficient champion. 

As the day appointed by Sir Mador was fast approaching, it becamenecessary that she should procure a champion for her defence; andshe successively adjured Sir Hector, Sir Lionel, Sir Bohort, andSir Gawain to undertake the battle. She fell on her knees beforethem, called heaven to witness her innocence of the crime allegedagainst her, but was sternly answered by all that they could notfight to maintain the innocence of one whose act, and the fatalconsequence of it, they had seen with their own eyes. She retired, therefore, dejected and disconsolate; but the sight of the fatalpile on which, if guilty, she was doomed to be burned, excitingher to fresh effort, she again repaired to Sir Bohort, threwherself at his feet, and piteously calling on him for mercy, fellinto a swoon. The brave knight was not proof against this. Heraised her up, and hastily promised that he would undertake hercause, if no other or better champion should present himself. Hethen summoned his friends, and told them his resolution; and as amortal combat with Sir Mador was a most fearful enterprise, theyagreed to accompany him in the morning to the hermitage in theforest, where he proposed to receive absolution from the hermit, and to make his peace with Heaven before he entered the lists. Asthey approached the hermitage, they espied a knight riding in theforest, whom they at once recognized as Sir Launcelot. Overjoyedat the meeting, they quickly, in answer to his questions, confirmed the news of the queen's imminent danger, and receivedhis instructions to return to court, to comfort her as well asthey could, but to say nothing of his intention of undertaking herdefence, which he meant to do in tne character of an unknownadventurer. 

On their return to the castle they found that mass was finished, and had scarcely time to speak to the queen before they weresummoned into the hall to dinner. A general gloom was spread overthe countenances of all the guests. Arthur himself was unable toconceal his dejection, and the wretched Guenever, motionless andbathed in tears, sat in trembling expectation of Sir Mador'sappearance. Nor was it long ere he stalked into the hall, and witha voice of thunder, rendered more impressive by the generalsilence, demanded instant justice on the guilty party. Arthurreplied with dignity, that little of the day was yet spent, andthat perhaps a champion might yet be found capable of satisfyinghis thirst for battle. Sir Bohort now rose from table, and shortlyreturning in complete armor, resumed his place, after receivingthe embraces and thanks of the king, who now began to resume somedegree of confidence. Sir Mador, growing impatient, again repeatedhis denunciations of vengeance, and insisted that the combatshould no longer be postponed. 

In the height of the debate there came riding into the hall aknight mounted on a black steed, and clad in black armor, with hisvisor down, and lance in hand. "Sir, " said the king, "is it yourwill to alight and partake of our cheer?" "Nay, sir, " he replied;"I come to save a lady's life. The queen hath ill bestowed herfavors, and honored many a knight, that in her hour of need sheshould have none to take her part. Thou that darest accuse her oftreachery, stand forth, for to-day shalt thou need all thy might. "

Sir Mador, though surprised, was not appalled by the sternchallenge and formidable appearance of his antagonist, butprepared for the encounter. At the first shock both were unhorsed. They then drew their swords, and commenced a combat which lastedfrom noon till evening, when Sir Mador, whose strength began tofail, was felled to the ground by Launcelot, and compelled to suefor mercy. The victor, whose arm was already raised to terminatethe life of his opponent, instantly dropped his sword, courteouslylifted up the fainting Sir Mador, frankly confessing that he hadnever before encountered so formidable an enemy. The other, withsimilar courtesy, solemnly renounced all further projects ofvengeance for his brother's death; and the two knights, now becomefast friends, embraced each other with the greatest cordiality. Inthe meantime Arthur, having recognized Sir Launcelot, whose helmetwas now unlaced, rushed down into the lists, followed by all hisknights, to welcome and thank his deliverer. Guenever swooned withjoy, and the place of combat suddenly exhibited a scene of themost tumultuous delight. 

The general satisfaction was still further increased by thediscovery of the real culprit. Having accidentally incurred somesuspicion, he confessed his crime, and was publicly punished inthe presence of Sir Mador. 

The court now returned to the castle, which, with the title of "LaJoyeuse Garde" bestowed upon it in memory of the happy event, wasconferred on Sir Launcelot by Arthur, as a memorial of hisgratitude. 

CHAPTER XII

TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE

Meliadus was king of Leonois, or Lionesse, a country famous in theannals of romance, which adjoined the kingdom of Cornwall, but hasnow disappeared from the map, having been, it is said, overwhelmedby the ocean. Meliadus was married to Isabella, sister of Mark, king of Cornwall. A fairy fell in love with him, and drew him awayby enchantment while he was engaged in hunting. His queen set outin quest of him, but was taken ill on her journey, and died, leaving an infant son, whom, from the melancholy circumstances ofhis birth, she called Tristram. 

Gouvernail, the queen's squire, who had accompanied her, tookcharge of the child, and restored him to his father, who had atlength burst the enchantments of the fairy, and returned home. 

Meliadus after seven years married again, and the new queen, beingjealous of the influence of Tristram with his father, laid plotsfor his life, which were discovered by Gouvernail, who inconsequence fled with the boy to the court of the king of France, where Tristram was kindly received, and grew up improving in everygallant and knightly accomplishment, adding to his skill in armsthe arts of music and of chess. In particular, he devoted himselfto the chase and to all woodland sports, so that he becamedistinguished above all other chevaliers of the court for hisknowledge of all that relates to hunting. No wonder that Belinda, the king's daughter, fell in love with him; but as he did notreturn her passion, she, in a sudden impulse of anger, excited herfather against him, and he was banished the kingdom. The princesssoon repented of her act, and in despair destroyed herself, havingfirst written a most tender letter to Tristram, sending him at thesame time a beautiful and sagacious dog, of which she was veryfond, desiring him to keep it as a memorial of her. Meliadus wasnow dead, and as his queen, Tristram's stepmother, held thethrone, Gouvernail was afraid to carry his pupil to his nativecountry, and took him to Cornwall, to his uncle Mark, who gave hima kind reception. 

King Mark resided at the castle of Tintadel, already mentioned inthe history of Uther and Igerne. In this court Tristram becamedistinguished in all the exercises incumbent on a knight; nor wasit long before he had an opportunity of practically employing hisvalor and skill. Moraunt, a celebrated champion, brother to thequeen of Ireland, arrived at the court, to demand tribute of KingMark. The knights of Cornwall are in ill repute in romance fortheir cowardice, and they exhibited it on this occasion. King Markcould find no champion who dared to encounter the Irish knight, till his nephew Tristram, who had not yet received the honors ofknighthood, craved to be admitted to the order, offering at thesame time to fight the battle of Cornwall against the Irishchampion. King Mark assented with reluctance; Tristram receivedthe accolade, which conferred knighthood upon him, and the placeand time were assigned for the encounter. 

Without attempting to give the details of this famous combat, thefirst and one of the most glorious of Tristram's exploits, weshall only say that the young knight, though severely wounded, cleft the head of Moraunt, leaving a portion of his sword in thewound. Moraunt, half dead with his wound and the disgrace of hisdefeat, hastened to hide himself in his ship, sailed away with allspeed for Ireland, and died soon after arriving in his owncountry. 

The kingdom of Cornwall was thus delivered from its tribute. Tristram, weakened by loss of blood, fell senseless. His friendsflew to his assistance. They dressed his wounds, which in generalhealed readily; but the lance of Moraunt was poisoned, and onewound which it made yielded to no remedies, but grew worse day byday. The surgeons could do no more. Tristram asked permission ofhis uncle to depart, and seek for aid in the kingdom of Loegria(England). With his consent he embarked, and after tossing formany days on the sea, was driven by the winds to the coast ofIreland. He landed, full of joy and gratitude that he had escapedthe peril of the sea; took his rote, [Footnote: A musicalinstrument. ] and began to play. It was a summer evening, and theking of Ireland and his daughter, the beautiful Isoude, were at awindow which overlooked the sea. The strange harper was sent for, and conveyed to the palace, where, finding that he was in Ireland, whose champion he had lately slain, he concealed his name, andcalled himself Tramtris. The queen undertook his cure, and by amedicated bath gradually restored him to health. His skill inmusic and in games occasioned his being frequently called tocourt, and he became the instructor of the princess Isoude inminstrelsy and poetry, who profited so well under his care, thatshe soon had no equal in the kingdom, except her instructor. 

At this time a tournament was held, at which many knights of theRound Table, and others, were present. On the first day a Saracenprince, named Palamedes, obtained the advantage over all. Theybrought him to the court, and gave him a feast, at which Tristram, just recovering from his wound, was present. The fair Isoudeappeared on this occasion in all her charms. Palamedes could notbehold them without emotion, and made no effort to conceal hislove. Tristram perceived it, and the pain he felt from jealousytaught him how dear the fair Isoude had already become to him. 

Next day the tournament was renewed. Tristram, still feeble fromhis wound, rose during the night, took his arms, and concealedthem in a forest near the place of the contest, and, after it hadbegun, mingled with the combatants. He overthrew all thatencountered him, in particular Palamedes, whom he brought to theground with a stroke of his lance, and then fought him hand tohand, bearing off the prize of the tourney. But his exertionscaused his wound to reopen; he bled fast, and in this sad state, yet in triumph, they bore him to the palace. The fair Isoudedevoted herself to his relief with an interest which grew morevivid day by day; and her skilful care soon restored him tohealth. 

It happened one day that a damsel of the court, entering thecloset where Tristram's arms were deposited, perceived that a partof the sword had been broken off. It occurred to her that themissing portion was like that which was left in the skull ofMoraunt, the Irish champion. She imparted her thought to thequeen, who compared the fragment taken from her brother's woundwith the sword of Tristram, and was satisfied that it was part ofthe same, and that the weapon of Tristram was that which reft herbrother's life. She laid her griefs and resentment before theking, who satisfied himself with his own eyes of the truth of hersuspicions. Tristram was cited before the whole court, andreproached with having dared to present himself before them afterhaving slain their kinsman. He acknowledged that he had foughtwith Moraunt to settle the claim for tribute, and said that it wasby force of winds and waves alone that he was thrown on theircoast. The queen demanded vengeance for the death of her brother;the fair Isoude trembled and grew pale, but a murmur rose from allthe assembly that the life of one so handsome and so brave shouldnot be taken for such a cause, and generosity finally triumphedover resentment in the mind of the king. Tristram was dismissed insafety, but commanded to leave the kingdom without delay, andnever to return thither under pain of death Tristram went back, with restored health, to Cornwall. 

King Mark made his nephew give him a minute recital of hisadventures. Tristram told him all minutely; but when he came tospeak of the fair Isoude he described her charms with a warmth andenergy such as none but a lover could display. King Mark wasfascinated with the description, and, choosing a favorable time, demanded a boon[Footnote: "Good faith was the very corner-stone ofchivalry. Whenever a knight's word was pledged (it mattered nothow rashly) it was to be redeemed at any price. Hence the sacredobligation of the boon granted by a knight to his suppliant. Instances without number occur in romance, in which a knight, byrashly granting an indefinite boon, was obliged to do or suffersomething extremely to his prejudice. But it is not in romancealone that we find such singular instances of adherence to anindefinite promise. The history of the times presents authentictransactions equally embarrassing and absurd"--SCOTT, note to SirTristram. ] of his nephew, who readily granted it. The king madehim swear upon the holy reliques that he would fulfil hiscommands. Then Mark directed him to go to Ireland, and obtain forhim the fair Isoude to be queen of Cornwall. 

Tristram believed it was certain death for him to return toIreland; and how could he act as ambassador for his uncle in sucha cause? Yet, bound by his oath, he hesitated not for an instant. He only took the precaution to change his armor. He embarked forIreland; but a tempest drove him to the coast of England, nearCamelot, where King Arthur was holding his court, attended by theknights of the Round Table, and many others, the most illustriousin the world. 

Tristram kept himself unknown. He took part in many justs; hefought many combats, in which he covered himself with glory. Oneday he saw among those recently arrived the king of Ireland, father of the fair Isoude. This prince, accused of treason againsthis liege sovereign, Arthur, came to Camelot to free himself fromthe charge. Blaanor, one of the most redoubtable warriors of theRound Table, was his accuser, and Argius, the king, had neitheryouthful vigor nor strength to encounter him. He must thereforeseek a champion to sustain his innocence. But the knights of theRound Table were not at liberty to fight against one another, unless in a quarrel of their own. Argius heard of the great renownof the unknown knight; he also was witness of his exploits. Hesought him, and conjured him to adopt his defence, and on his oathdeclared that he was innocent of the crime of which he wasaccused. Tristram readily consented, and made himself known to theking, who on his part promised to reward his exertions, ifsuccessful, with whatever gift he might ask. 

Tristram fought with Blaanor, and overthrew him, and held his lifein his power. The fallen warrior called on him to use his right ofconquest, and strike the fatal blow. "God forbid, " said Tristram, "that I should take the life of so brave a knight!" He raised himup and restored him to his friends. The judges of the fielddecided that the king of Ireland was acquitted of the chargeagainst him, and they led Tristram in triumph to his tent. KingArgius, full of gratitude, conjured Tristram to accompany him tohis kingdom. They departed together, and arrived in Ireland; andthe queen, forgetting her resentment for her brother's death, exhibited to the preserver of her husband's life nothing butgratitude and good-will. 

How happy a moment for Isoude, who knew that her father hadpromised his deliverer whatever boon he might ask! But the unhappyTristram gazed on her with despair, at the thought of the crueloath which bound him. His magnanimous soul subdued the force ofhis love. He revealed the oath which he had taken, and withtrembling voice demanded the fair Isoude for his uncle. 

Argius consented, and soon all was prepared for the departure ofIsoude. Brengwain, her favorite maid of honor, was to accompanyher. On the day of departure the queen took aside this devotedattendant, and told her that she had observed that her daughterand Tristram were attached to one another, and that to avert thebad effects of this inclination she had procured from a powerfulfairy a potent philter (love-draught), which she directedBrengwain to administer to Isoude and to King Mark on the eveningof their marriage. 

Isoude and Tristram embarked together. A favorable wind filled thesails, and promised them a fortunate voyage. The lovers gazed uponone another, and could not repress their sighs. Love seemed tolight up all his fires on their lips, as in their hearts. The daywas warm; they suffered from thirst. Isoude first complained. Tristram descried the bottle containing the love-draught, whichBrengwain had been so imprudent as to leave in sight. He took it, gave some of it to the charming Isoude, and drank the remainderhimself. The dog Houdain licked the cup. The ship arrived inCornwall, and Isoude was married to King Mark, The old monarch wasdelighted with his bride, and his gratitude to Tristram wasunbounded. He loaded him with honors, and made him chamberlain ofhis palace, thus giving him access to the queen at all times. 

In the midst of the festivities of the court which followed theroyal marriage, an unknown minstrel one day presented himself, bearing a harp of peculiar construction. He excited the curiosityof King Mark by refusing to play upon it till he should grant hima boon. The king having promised to grant his request, theminstrel, who was none other than the Saracen knight, SirPalamedes, the lover of the fair Isoude, sung to the harp a lay, in which he demanded Isoude as the promised gift. King Mark couldnot by the laws of knighthood withhold the boon. The lady wasmounted on her horse, and led away by her triumphant lover. Tristram, it is needless to say, was absent at the time, and didnot return until their departure. When he heard what had takenplace he seized his rote, and hastened to the shore, where Isoudeand her new master had already embarked. Tristram played upon hisrote, and the sound reached the ears of Isoude, who became sodeeply affected, that Sir Palamedes was induced to return with herto land, that they might see the unknown musician. Tristramwatched his opportunity, seized the lady's horse by the bridle, and plunged with her into the forest, tauntingly informing hisrival that "what he had got by the harp he had lost by the rote. "Palamedes pursued, and a combat was about to commence, the resultof which must have been fatal to one or other of these gallantknights; but Isoude stepped between them, and, addressingPalamedes, said, "You tell me that you love me; you will not thendeny me the request I am about to make?" "Lady, " he replied, "Iwill perform your bidding. " "Leave, then, " said she, "thiscontest, and repair to King Arthur's court, and salute QueenGuenever from me; tell her that there are in the world but twoladies, herself and I, and two lovers, hers and mine; and comethou not in future in any place where I am. " Palamedes burst intotears. "Ah, lady, " said he, "I will obey you; but I beseech youthat you will not for ever steel your heart against me. ""Palamedes, " she replied, "may I never taste of joy again if Iever quit my first love. " Palamedes then went his way. The loversremained a week in concealment, after which Tristram restoredIsoude to her husband, advising him in future to reward minstrelsin some other way. 

The king showed much gratitude to Tristram, but in the bottom ofhis heart he cherished bitter jealousy of him. One day Tristramand Isoude were alone together in her private chamber. A base andcowardly knight of the court, named Andret, spied them through akeyhole. They sat at a table of chess, but were not attending tothe game. Andret brought the king, having first raised hissuspicions, and placed him so as to watch their motions. The kingsaw enough to confirm his suspicions, and he burst into theapartment with his sword drawn, and had nearly slain Tristrambefore he was put on his guard. But Tristram avoided the blow, drew his sword, and drove before him the cowardly monarch, chasinghim through all the apartments of the palace, giving him frequentblows with the flat of his sword, while he cried in vain to hisknights to save him. They were not inclined, or did not dare, tointerpose in his behalf. 

A proof of the great popularity of the tale of Sir Tristram is thefact that the Italian poets, Boiardo and Ariosto, have foundedupon it the idea of the two enchanted fountains, which producedthe opposite effects of love and hatred. Boiardo thus describesthe fountain of hatred:

 "Fair was that fountain, sculptured all of gold, With alabaster sculptured, rich and rare; And in its basin clear thou might'st behold The flowery marge reflected fresh and fair. Sage Merlin framed the font, --so legends bear, -- When on fair Isoude doated Tristram brave, That the good errant knight, arriving there, Might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave, And leave his luckless love, and 'scape his timeless grave. 

 'But ne'er the warrior's evil fate allowed His steps that fountain's charmed verge to gain. Though restless, roving on adventure proud, He traversed oft the land and oft the main. "

CHAPTER XIII

TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE (Continued)

After this affair Tristram was banished from the kingdom, andIsoude shut up in a tower, which stood on the bank of a river. Tristram could not resolve to depart without some furthercommunication with his beloved; so he concealed himself in theforest, till at last he contrived to attract her attention, bymeans of twigs which he curiously peeled, and sent down the streamunder her window. By this means many secret interviews wereobtained. Tristram dwelt in the forest, sustaining himself bygame, which the dog Houdain ran down for him; for this faithfulanimal was unequalled in the chase, and knew so well his master'swish for concealment, that, in the pursuit of his game, he neverbarked. At length Tristram departed, but left Houdain with Isoude, as a remembrancer of him. 

Sir Tristram wandered through various countries, achieving themost perilous enterprises, and covering himself with glory, yetunhappy at the separation from his beloved Isoude. At length KingMark's territory was invaded by a neighboring chieftain, and hewas forced to summon his nephew to his aid. Tristram obeyed thecall, put himself at the head of his uncle's vassals, and drovethe enemy out of the country. Mark was full of gratitude, andTristram, restored to favor and to the society of his belovedIsoude, seemed at the summit of happiness. But a sad reverse wasat hand. 

Tristram had brought with him a friend named Pheredin, son of theking of Brittany. This young knight saw Queen Isoude, and couldnot resist her charms. Knowing the love of his friend for thequeen, and that that love was returned, Pheredin concealed hisown, until his health failed, and he feared he was drawing nearhis end. He then wrote to the beautiful queen that he was dyingfor love of her. 

The gentle Isoude, in a moment of pity for the friend of Tristram, returned him an answer so kind and compassionate that it restoredhim to life. A few days afterwards Tristram found this letter. Themost terrible jealousy took possession of his soul; he would haveslain Pheredin, who with difficulty made his escape. Then Tristrammounted his horse, and rode to the forest, where for ten days hetook no rest nor food. At length he was found by a damsel lyingalmost dead by the brink of a fountain. She recognized him, andtried in vain to rouse his attention. At last recollecting hislove for music she went and got her harp, and played thereon. Tristram was roused from his reverie; tears flowed; he breathedmore freely; he took the harp from the maiden, and sung this lay, with a voice broken with sobs:

 "Sweet I sang in former days, Kind love perfected my lays: Now my art alone displays The woe that on my being preys. 

 "Charming love, delicious power, Worshipped from my earliest hour, Thou who life on all dost shower, Love! my life thou dost devour. 

 "In death's hour I beg of thee, Isoude, dearest enemy, Thou who erst couldst kinder be, When I'm gone, forget not me. 

 "On my gravestone passers-by Oft will read, as low I lie, 'Never wight in love could vie With Tristram, yet she let him die. '"

Tristram, having finished his lay, wrote it off and gave it to thedamsel, conjuring her to present it to the queen. 

Meanwhile Queen Isoude was inconsolable at the absence ofTristram. She discovered that it was caused by the fatal letterwhich she had written to Pheredin. Innocent, but in despair at thesad effects of her letter, she wrote another to Pheredin, charginghim never to see her again. The unhappy lover obeyed this crueldecree. He plunged into the forest, and died of grief and love ina hermit's cell. 

Isoude passed her days in lamenting the absence and unknown fateof Tristram. One day her jealous husband, having entered herchamber unperceived, overheard her singing the following lay:

 "My voice to piteous wail is bent, My harp to notes of languishment; Ah, love! delightsome days be meant For happier wights, with hearts content. 

 "Ah, Tristram' far away from me, Art thou from restless anguish free? Ah! couldst thou so one moment be, From her who so much loveth thee?"

The king hearing these words burst forth in a rage; but Isoude wastoo wretched to fear his violence. "You have heard me, " she said;"I confess it all. I love Tristram, and always shall love him. Without doubt he is dead, and died for me. I no longer wish tolive. The blow that shall finish my misery will be most welcome. "

The king was moved at the distress of the fair Isoude, and perhapsthe idea of Tristram's death tended to allay his wrath. He leftthe queen in charge of her women, commanding them to take especialcare lest her despair should lead her to do harm to herself. 

Tristram meanwhile, distracted as he was, rendered a mostimportant service to the shepherds by slaying a gigantic robbernamed Taullas, who was in the habit of plundering their flocks andrifling their cottages. The shepherds, in their gratitude toTristram, bore him in triumph to King Mark to have him bestow onhim a suitable reward. No wonder Mark failed to recognize in thehalf-clad, wild man, before him his nephew Tristram; but gratefulfor the service the unknown had rendered he ordered him to be welltaken care of, and gave him in charge to the queen and her women. Under such care Tristram rapidly recovered his serenity and hishealth, so that the romancer tells us he became handsomer thanever. King Mark's jealousy revived with Tristram's health and goodlooks, and, in spite of his debt of gratitude so lately increased, he again banished him from the court. 

Sir Tristram left Cornwall, and proceeded into the land of Loegria(England) in quest of adventures. One day he entered a wideforest. The sound of a little bell showed him that some inhabitantwas near. He followed the sound, and found a hermit, who informedhim that he was in the forest of Arnantes, belonging to the fairyViviane, the Lady of the Lake, who, smitten with love for KingArthur, had found means to entice him to this forest, where byenchantments she held him a prisoner, having deprived him of allmemory of who and what he was. The hermit informed him that allthe knights of the Round Table were out in search of the king, andthat he (Tristram) was now in the scene of the most grand andimportant adventures. 

This was enough to animate Tristram in the search. He had notwandered far before he encountered a knight of Arthur's court, whoproved to be Sir Kay the Seneschal, who demanded of him whence hecame. Tristram answering, "From Cornwall, " Sir Kay did not letslip the opportunity of a joke at the expense of the Cornishknight. Tristram chose to leave him in his error, and evenconfirmed him in it; for meeting some other knights Tristramdeclined to just with them. They spent the night together at anabbey, where Tristram submitted patiently to all their jokes. TheSeneschal gave the word to his companions that they should set outearly next day, and intercept the Cornish knight on his way, andenjoy the amusement of seeing his fright when they should insiston running a tilt with him. Tristram next morning found himselfalone; he put on his armor, and set out to continue his quest. Hesoon saw before him the Seneschal and the three knights, whobarred the way, and insisted on a just. Tristram excused himself along time; at last he reluctantly took his stand. He encounteredthem, one after the other, and overthrew them all four, man andhorse, and then rode off, bidding them not to forget their friendthe knight of Cornwall. 

Tristram had not ridden far when he met a damsel, who cried out, "Ah, my lord! hasten forward, and prevent a horrid treason!"Tristram flew to her assistance, and soon reached a spot where hebeheld a knight, whom three others had borne to the ground, andwere unlacing his helmet in order to cut off his head. 

Tristram flew to the rescue, and slew with one stroke of his lanceone of the assailants. The knight, recovering his feet, sacrificedanother to his vengeance, and the third made his escape. Therescued knight then raised the visor of his helmet, and a longwhite beard fell down upon his breast. The majesty and venerableair of this knight made Tristram suspect that it was none otherthan Arthur himself, and the prince confirmed his conjecture. Tristram would have knelt before him, but Arthur received him inhis arms, and inquired his name and country; but Tristram declinedto disclose them, on the plea that he was now on a quest requiringsecrecy. At this moment the damsel who had brought Tristram to therescue darted forward, and, seizing the king's hand, drew from hisfinger a ring, the gift of the fairy, and by that act dissolvedthe enchantment. Arthur, having recovered his reason and hismemory, offered to Tristram to attach him to his court, and toconfer honors and dignities upon him; but Tristram declined all, and only consented to accompany him till he should see him safe inthe hands of his knights. Soon after, Hector de Marys rode up, andsaluted the king, who on his part introduced him to Tristram asone of the bravest of his knights. Tristram took leave of the kingand his faithful follower, and continued his quest. 

We cannot follow Tristram through all the adventures which filledthis epoch of his history. Suffice it to say, he fulfilled on alloccasions the duty of a true knight, rescuing the oppressed, redressing wrongs, abolishing evil customs, and suppressinginjustice, thus by constant action endeavoring to lighten thepains of absence from her he loved. In the meantime Isoude, separated from her dear Tristram, passed her days in languor andregret. At length she could no longer resist the desire to hearsome news of her lover. She wrote a letter, and sent it by one ofher damsels, niece of her faithful Brengwain. One day Tristram, weary with his exertions, had dismounted and laid himself down bythe side of a fountain and fallen asleep. The damsel of QueenIsoude arrived at the same fountain, and recognized Passebreul, the horse of Tristram, and presently perceived his master asleep. He was thin and pale, showing evident marks of the pain hesuffered in separation from his beloved. She awakened him, andgave him the letter which she bore, and Tristram enjoyed thepleasure, so sweet to a lover, of hearing from and talking aboutthe object of his affections. He prayed the damsel to postpone herreturn till after the magnificent tournament which Arthur hadproclaimed should have taken place, and conducted her to thecastle of Persides, a brave and loyal knight, who received herwith great consideration. 

Tristram conducted the damsel of Queen Isoude to the tournament, and had her placed in the balcony among the ladies of the queen. 

 "He glanced and saw the stately galleries, Dame, damsel, each through worship of their Queen White-robed in honor of the stainless child, And some with scatter'd jewels, like a bank Of maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire. He looked but once, and veiled his eyes again. "

 --The Last Tournament. 

He then joined the tourney. Nothing could exceed his strength andvalor. Launcelot admired him, and by a secret presentimentdeclined to dispute the honor of the day with a knight so gallantand so skilful. Arthur descended from the balcony to greet theconqueror; but the modest and devoted Tristram, content withhaving borne off the prize in the sight of the messenger ofIsoude, made his escape with her, and disappeared. 

The next day the tourney recommenced. Tristram assumed differentarmor, that he might not be known; but he was soon detected by theterrible blows that he gave, Arthur and Guenever had no doubt thatit was the same knight who had borne off the prize of the daybefore. Arthur's gallant spirit was roused. After Launcelot of theLake and Sir Gawain he was accounted the best knight of the RoundTable. He went privately and armed himself, and came into thetourney in undistinguished armor. He ran a just with Tristram, whom he shook in his seat; but Tristram, who did not know him, threw him out of the saddle. Arthur recovered himself, and contentwith having made proof of the stranger knight bade Launcelotfinish the adventure, and vindicate the honor of the Round Table. Sir Launcelot, at the bidding of the monarch, assailed Tristram, whose lance was already broken in former encounters. But the lawof this sort of combat was that the knight after having broken hislance must fight with his sword, and must not refuse to meet withhis shield the lance of his antagonist. Tristram met Launcelot'scharge upon his shield, which that terrible lance could not failto pierce. It inflicted a wound upon Tristram's side, and, breaking, left the iron in the wound. But Tristram also with hissword smote so vigorously on Launcelot's casque that he cleft it, and wounded his head. The wound was not deep, but the blood flowedinto his eyes, and blinded him for a moment, and Tristram, whothought himself mortally wounded, retired from the field. Launcelot declared to the king that he had never received such ablow in his life before. 

Tristram hastened to Gouvernail, his squire, who drew forth theiron, bound up the wound, and gave him immediate ease. Tristramafter the tournament kept retired in his tent, but Arthur, withthe consent of all the knights of the Round Table, decreed him thehonors of the second day. But it was no longer a secret that thevictor of the two days was the same individual, and Gouvernail, being questioned, confirmed the suspicions of Launcelot and Arthurthat it was no other than Sir Tristram of Leonais, the nephew ofthe king of Cornwall. 

King Arthur, who desired to reward his distinguished valor, andknew that his Uncle Mark had ungratefully banished him, would haveeagerly availed himself of the opportunity to attach Tristram tohis court, --all the knights of the Round Table declaring withacclamation that it would be impossible to find a more worthycompanion. But Tristram had already departed in search ofadventures, and the damsel of Queen Isoude returned to hermistress. 

CHAPTER XIV

SIR TRISTRAM'S BATTLE WITH SIR LAUNCELOT

Sir Tristram rode through a forest and saw ten men fighting, andone man did battle against nine. So he rode to the knights andcried to them, bidding them cease their battle, for they didthemselves great shame, so many knights to fight against one. Thenanswered the master of the knights (his name was Sir Breuse sansPitie, who was at that time the most villanous knight living):"Sir knight, what have ye to do to meddle with us? If ye be wisedepart on your way as you came, for this knight shall not escapeus. " "That were pity, " said Sir Tristram, "that so good a knightshould be slain so cowardly; therefore I warn you I will succorhim with all my puissance. "

Then Sir Tristram alighted off his horse, because they were onfoot, that they should not slay his horse. And he smote on theright hand and on the left so vigorously that well-nigh at everystroke he struck down a knight. At last they fled, with Breusesans Pitie, into the tower, and shut Sir Tristram without thegate. Then Sir Tristram returned back to the rescued knight, andfound him sitting under a tree, sore wounded. "Fair knight, " saidhe, "how is it with you?" "Sir knight, " said Sir Palamedes, for heit was, "I thank you of your great goodness, for ye have rescuedme from death. " "What is your name?" said Sir Tristram. He said, "My name is Sir Palamedes. " "Say ye so?" said Sir Tristram; "nowknow that thou art the man in the world that I most hate;therefore make thee ready, for I will do battle with thee. " "Whatis your name?" said Sir Palamedes. "My name is Sir Tristram, yourmortal enemy. " "It may be so, " said Sir Palamedes; "but you havedone overmuch for me this day, that I should fight with you. Moreover, it will be no honor for you to have to do with me, foryou are fresh and I am wounded. Therefore, if you will needs haveto do with me, assign me a day, and I shall meet you withoutfail. " "You say well, "said Sir Tristram; "now I assign you tomeet me in the meadow by the river of Camelot, where Merlin setthe monument. " So they were agreed. Then they departed and tooktheir ways diverse. Sir Tristram passed through a great forestinto a plain, till he came to a priory, and there he reposed himwith a good man six days. 

Then departed Sir Tristram, and rode straight into Camelot to themonument of Merlin, and there he looked about him for SirPalamedes. And he perceived a seemly knight, who came ridingagainst him all in white, with a covered shield. When he came nighSir Tristram said aloud, "Welcome, sir knight, and well and trulyhave you kept your promise. " Then they made ready their shieldsand spears, and came together with all the might of their horses, so fiercely, that both the horses and the knights fell to theearth. And as soon as they might they quitted their horses, andstruck together with bright swords as men of might, and eachwounded the other wonderfully sore, so that the blood ran out uponthe grass. Thus they fought for the space of four hours and neverone would speak to the other one word. Then at last spake thewhite knight, and said, "Sir, thou fightest wonderful well, asever I saw knight; therefore, if it please you, tell me yourname. " "Why dost thou ask my name?" said Sir Tristram; "art thounot Sir Palamedes?" "No, fair knight, " said he, "I am SirLauncelot of the Lake. " "Alas!" said Sir Tristram, "what have Idone? for you are the man of the world that I love best. " "Fairknight, " said Sir Launcelot, "tell me your name. " "Truly, " saidhe, "my name is Sir Tristram de Lionesse. " "Alas! alas!" said SirLauncelot, "what adventure has befallen me!" And therewith SirLauncelot kneeled down and yielded him up his sword; and SirTristram kneeled down and yielded him up his sword; and so eithergave other the degree. And then they both went to the stone, andsat them down upon it and took off their helms and each kissed theother a hundred times. And then anon they rode toward Camelot, andon the way they met with Sir Gawain and Sir Gaheris, that had madepromise to Arthur never to come again to the court till they hadbrought Sir Tristram with them. 

"Return again, " said Sir Launcelot, "for your quest is done; for Ihave met with Sir Tristram. Lo, here he is in his own person. "Then was Sir Gawain glad, and said to Sir Tristram, "Ye arewelcome. " With this came King Arthur, and when he wist there wasSir Tristram, he ran unto him, and took him by the hand, and said, "Sir Tristram, ye are as welcome as any knight that ever came tothis court. " Then Sir Tristram told the king how he came thitherfor to have had to do with Sir Palamedes, and how he had rescuedhim from Sir Breuse sans Pitie and the nine knights. Then KingArthur took Sir Tristram by the hand, and went to the Table Round, and Queen Guenever came, and many ladies with her, and all theladies said with one voice, "Welcome, Sir Tristram. " "Welcome, "said the knights. "Welcome, " said Arthur, "for one of the best ofknights, and the gentlest of the world, and the man of mostworship; for of all manner of hunting thou bearest the prize, andof all measures of blowing thou art the beginning, and of all theterms of hunting and hawking ye are the inventor, and of allinstruments of music ye are the best skilled; therefore, gentleknight, " said Arthur, "ye are welcome to this court. " And thenKing Arthur made Sir Tristram knight of the Table Round with greatnobley and feasting as can be thought. 

SIR TRISTRAM AS A SPORTSMAN

Tristram is often alluded to by the Romancers as the greatauthority and model in all matters relating to the chase. In the"Faery Queene, " Tristram, in answer to the inquiries of SirCalidore, informs him of his name and parentage, and concludes:

 "All which my days I have not lewdly spent, Nor spilt the blossom of my tender years In idlesse; but, as was convenient, Have trained been with many noble feres In gentle thewes, and such like seemly leers; 'Mongst which my most delight hath always been To hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peers, Of all that rangeth in the forest green, Of which none is to me unknown that yet was seen. 

 "Ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch, Whether high towering or accosting low, But I the measure of her flight do search, And all her prey, and all her diet know. Such be our joys, which in these forests grow. "

[Footnote: Feres, companions; thewes, labors; leers, learning. ]

CHAPTER XV

THE ROUND TABLE

The famous enchanter, Merlin, had exerted all his skill infabricating the Round Table. Of the seats which surrounded it hehad constructed thirteen, in memory of the thirteen Apostles. Twelve of these seats only could be occupied, and they only byknights of the highest fame; the thirteenth represented the seatof the traitor Judas. It remained always empty. It was called thePERILOUS SEAT, ever since a rash and haughty Saracen knight haddared to place himself in it, when the earth opened and swallowedhim up. 

 "In our great hall there stood a vacant chair, Fashion'd by Merlin ere he past away, And carven with strange figures; and in and out The figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll Of letters in a tongue no man could read And Merlin call'd it 'The Siege perilous, ' Perilous for good and ill; 'for there, ' he said, 'No man could sit but he should lose himself. '"

 --The Holy Grail. 

A magic power wrote upon each seat the name of the knight who wasentitled to sit in it. No one could succeed to a vacant seatunless he surpassed in valor and glorious deeds the knight who hadoccupied it before him; without this qualification he would beviolently repelled by a hidden force. Thus proof was made of allthose who presented themselves to replace any companions of theorder who had fallen. 

One of the principal seats, that of Moraunt of Ireland, had beenvacant ten years, and his name still remained over it ever sincethe time when that distinguished champion fell beneath the swordof Sir Tristram. Arthur now took Tristram by the hand and led himto that seat. Immediately the most melodious sounds were heard, and exquisite perfumes filled the place; the name of Morauntdisappeared, and that of Tristram blazed forth in light. The raremodesty of Tristram had now to be subjected to a severe task; forthe clerks charged with the duty of preserving the annals of theRound Table attended, and he was required by the law of his orderto declare what feats of arms he had accomplished to entitle himto take that seat. This ceremony being ended, Tristram receivedthe congratulations of all his companions. Sir Launcelot andGuenever took the occasion to speak to him of the fair Isoude, andto express their wish that some happy chance might bring her tothe kingdom of Loegria. 

While Tristram was thus honored and caressed at the court of KingArthur, the most gloomy and malignant jealousy harassed the soulof Mark. He could not look upon Isoude without remembering thatshe loved Tristram, and the good fortune of his nephew goaded himto thoughts of vengeance. He at last resolved to go disguised intothe kingdom of Loegria, attack Tristram by stealth, and put him todeath. He took with him two knights, brought up in his court, whohe thought were devoted to him; and, not willing to leave Isoudebehind, named two of her maidens to attend her, together with herfaithful Brengwain, and made them accompany him. 

Having arrived in the neighborhood of Camelot, Mark imparted hisplan to his two knights, but they rejected it with horror; nay, more, they declared that they would no longer remain in hisservice; and left him, giving him reason to suppose that theyshould repair to the court to accuse him before Arthur. It wasnecessary for Mark to meet and rebut their accusation; so, leavingIsoude in an abbey, he pursued his way alone to Camelot. 

Mark had not ridden far when he encountered a party of knights ofArthur's court, and would have avoided them, for he knew theirhabit of challenging to a just every stranger knight whom theymet. But it was too late. They had seen his armor, and recognizedhim as a Cornish knight, and at once resolved to have some sportwith him. It happened they had with them Daguenet, King Arthur'sfool, who, though deformed and weak of body, was not wanting incourage. The knights as Mark approached laid their plan thatDaguenet should personate Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and challengethe Cornish knight. They equipped him in armor belonging to one oftheir number who was ill, and sent him forward to the cross-roadto defy the strange knight. Mark, who saw that his antagonist wasby no means formidable in appearance, was not disinclined to thecombat; but when the dwarf rode towards him, calling out that hewas Sir Launcelot of the Lake, his fears prevailed, he put spursto his horse, and rode away at full speed, pursued by the shoutsand laughter of the party. 

Meanwhile Isoude, remaining at the abbey with her faithfulBrengwain, found her only amusement in walking occasionally in aforest adjoining the abbey. There, on the brink of a fountaingirdled with trees, she thought of her love, and sometimes joinedher voice and her harp in lays reviving the memory of its pains orpleasures. One day the caitiff knight, Breuse the Pitiless, heardher voice, concealed himself, and drew near. She sang:

 "Sweet silence, shadowy bower, and verdant lair, Ye court my troubled spirit to repose, Whilst I, such dear remembrance rises there, Awaken every echo with my woes

 "Within these woods, by nature's hand arrayed, A fountain springs, and feeds a thousand flowers; Ah! how my groans do all its murmurs aid! How my sad eyes do swell it with their showers!

 "What doth my knight the while? to him is given A double meed; in love and arms' emprise, Him the Round Table elevates to heaven! Tristram! ah me! he hears not Isoude's cries. "

Breuse the Pitiless, who like most other caitiffs had felt theweight of Tristram's arm, and hated him accordingly, at hearinghis name breathed forth by the beautiful songstress, impelled by adouble impulse, rushed forth from his concealment and laid handson his victim. Isoude fainted, and Brengwain filled the air withher shrieks. Breuse carried Isoude to the place where he had lefthis horse; but the animal had got away from his bridle, and was atsome distance. He was obliged to lay down his fair burden, and goin pursuit of his horse. Just then a knight came up, drawn by thecries of Brengwain, and demanded the cause of her distress. Shecould not speak, but pointed to her mistress lying insensible onthe ground. 

Breuse had by this time returned, and the cries of Brengwain, renewed at seeing him, sufficiently showed the stranger the causeof the distress. Tristram spurred his horse towards Breuse, who, not unprepared, ran to the encounter. Breuse was unhorsed, and laymotionless, pretending to be dead; but when the stranger knightleft him to attend to the distressed damsels, he mounted hishorse, and made his escape. 

The knight now approached Isoude, gently raised her head, drewaside the golden hair which covered her countenance, gazed thereonfor an instant, uttered a cry, and fell back insensible. Brengwaincame; her cares soon restored her mistress to life, and they thenturned their attention to the fallen warrior. They raised hisvisor, and discovered the countenance of Sir Tristram. Isoudethrew herself on the body of her lover, and bedewed his face withher tears. Their warmth revived the knight, and Tristram onawaking found himself in the arms of his dear Isoude. 

It was the law of the Round Table that each knight after hisadmission should pass the next ten days in quest of adventures, during which time his companions might meet him in disguised armorand try their strength with him. Tristram had now been out sevendays, and in that time had encountered many of the best knights ofthe Round Table, and acquitted himself with honor. During theremaining three days, Isoude remained at the abbey, under hisprotection, and then set out with her maidens, escorted by SirTristram, to rejoin King Mark at the court of Camelot. 

This happy journey was one of the brightest epochs in the lives ofTristram and Isoude. He celebrated it by a lay upon the harp in apeculiar measure, to which the French give the name of Triolet. 

 "With fair Isoude, and with love, Ah! how sweet the life I lead! How blest for ever thus to rove, With fair Isoude, and with love! As she wills, I live and move, And cloudless days to days succeed: With fair Isoude, and with love, Ah! how sweet the life I lead!

 "Journeying on from break of day, Feel you not fatigued, my fair? Yon green turf invites to play; Journeying on from day to day, Ah! let us to that shade away, Were it but to slumber there! Journeying on from break of day, Feel you not fatigued, my fair?"

They arrived at Camelot, where Sir Launcelot received them mostcordially. Isoude was introduced to King Arthur and QueenGuenever, who welcomed her as a sister. As King Mark was held inarrest under the accusation of the two Cornish knights, QueenIsoude could not rejoin her husband, and Sir Launcelot placed hiscastle of La Joyeuse Garde at the disposal of his friends, whothere took up their abode. 

King Mark, who found himself obliged to confess the truth of thecharge against him, or to clear himself by combat with hisaccusers, preferred the former, and King Arthur, as his crime hadnot been perpetrated, remitted the penalty, only enjoining uponhim, under pain of his signal displeasure, to lay aside allthoughts of vengeance against his nephew. In the presence of theking and his court all parties were formally reconciled; Mark andhis queen departed for their home, and Tristram remained atArthur's court. 

CHAPTER XVI

SIR PALAMEDES

While Sir Tristram and the fair Isoude abode yet at La JoyeuseGarde, Sir Tristram rode forth one day, without armor, having noweapon but his spear and his sword. And as he rode he came to aplace where he saw two knights in battle, and one of them hadgotten the better and the other lay overthrown. The knight who hadthe better was Sir Palamedes. When Sir Palamedes knew SirTristram, he cried out, "Sir Tristram, now we be met, and ere wedepart we will redress our old wrongs. " "As for that, " said SirTristram, "there never yet was Christian man that might make hisboast that I ever fled from him, and thou that art a Saracen shaltnever say that of me. " And therewith Sir Tristram made his horseto run, and with all his might came straight upon Sir Palamedes, and broke his spear upon him. Then he drew his sword and struck atSir Palamedes six great strokes, upon his helm. Sir Palamedes sawthat Sir Tristram had not his armor on, and he marvelled at hisrashness and his great folly; and said to himself, "If I meet andslay him, I am shamed wheresoever I go. " Then Sir Tristram criedout and said, "Thou coward knight, why wilt thou not do battlewith me? for have thou no doubt I shall endure all thy malice. ""Ah, Sir Tristram!" said Sir Palamedes, "thou knowest I may notfight with thee for shame; for thou art here naked, and I amarmed; now I require that thou answer me a question that I shallask you. " "Tell me what it is, " said Sir Tristram. "I put thecase, " said Palamedes, "that you were well armed, and I naked asye be; what would you do to me now, by your true knighthood?""Ah!" said Sir Tristram, "now I understand thee well, SirPalamedes; and, as God bless me, what I shall say shall not besaid for fear that I have of thee. But if it were so, thoushouldest depart from me, for I would not have to do with thee. ""No more will I with thee, " said Sir Palamedes, "and thereforeride forth on thy way. " "As for that, I may choose, " said SirTristram, "either to ride or to abide. But, Sir Palamedes, Imarvel at one thing, --that thou art so good a knight, yet thatthou wilt not be christened. " "As for that, " said Sir Palamedes, "I may not yet be christened, for a vow which I made many yearsago; yet in my heart I believe in our Saviour and his mild mother, Mary; but I have yet one battle to do, and when that is done Iwill be christened, with a good will. " "By my head, " said SirTristram, "as for that one battle, thou shalt seek it no longer;for yonder is a knight, whom you have smitten down. Now help me tobe clothed in his armor, and I will soon fulfil thy vow. " "As yewill, " said Sir Palamedes, "so shall it be. " So they rode bothunto that knight that sat on a bank; and Sir Tristram saluted him, and he full weary saluted him again. "Sir, " said Sir Tristram, "Ipray you to lend me your whole armor; for I am unarmed, and I mustdo battle with this knight. " "Sir, " said the hurt knight, "youshall have it, with a right good will, " Then Sir Tristram unarmedSir Galleron, for that was the name of the hurt knight, and he aswell as he could helped to arm Sir Tristram. Then Sir Tristrammounted upon his own horse, and in his hand he took Sir Galleron'sspear. Thereupon Sir Palamedes was ready, and so they came hurlingtogether, and each smote the other in the midst of their shields. Sir Palamedes' spear broke, and Sir Tristram smote down the horse. Then Sir Palamedes leapt from his horse, and drew out his sword. That saw Sir Tristram, and therewith he alighted and tied hishorse to a tree. Then they came together as two wild beasts, lashing the one on the other, and so fought more than two hours;and often Sir Tristram smote such strokes at Sir Palamedes that hemade him to kneel, and Sir Palamedes broke away Sir Tristram'sshield, and wounded him. Then Sir Tristram was wroth out ofmeasure, and he rushed to Sir Palamedes and wounded him passingsore through the shoulder, and by fortune smote Sir Palamedes'sword out of his hand And if Sir Palamedes had stooped for hissword Sir Tristram had slain him. Then Sir Palamedes stood andbeheld his sword with a full sorrowful heart. "Now, " said SirTristram, "I have thee at a vantage, as thou hadst me to-day; butit shall never be said, in court, or among good knights, that SirTristram did slay any knight that was weaponless; therefore takethou thy sword, and let us fight this battle to the end. " Thenspoke Sir Palamedes to Sir Tristram: "I have no wish to fight thisbattle any more. The offence that I have done unto you is not sogreat but that, if it please you, we may be friends. All that Ihave offended is for the love of the queen, La Belle Isoude, and Idare maintain that she is peerless among ladies; and for thatoffence ye have given me many grievous and sad strokes, and some Ihave given you again. Wherefore I require you, my lord SirTristram, forgive me all that I have offended you, and this dayhave me unto the next church; and first I will be clean confessed, and after that see you that I be truly baptized, and then we willride together unto the court of my lord, King Arthur, so that wemay be there at the feast of Pentecost. " "Now take your horse, "said Sir Tristram, "and as you have said, so shall it be done. " Sothey took their horses, and Sir Galleron rode with them. When theycame to the church of Carlisle, the bishop commanded to fill agreat vessel with water; and when he had hallowed it, he thenconfessed Sir Palamedes clean, and christened him, and SirTristram and Sir Galleron were his godfathers. Then soon afterthey departed, and rode towards Camelot, where the noble KingArthur and Queen Guenever were keeping a court royal. And the kingand all the court were glad that Sir Palamedes was christened. Then Sir Tristram returned again to La Joyeuse Garde, and SirPalamedes went his way. 

Not long after these events Sir Gawain returned from Brittany, andrelated to King Arthur the adventure which befell him in theforest of Breciliande, how Merlin had there spoken to him, andenjoined him to charge the king to go without delay upon the questof the Holy Greal. While King Arthur deliberated Tristramdetermined to enter upon the quest, and the more readily, as itwas well known to him that this holy adventure would, if achieved, procure him the pardon of all his sins. He immediately departedfor the kingdom of Brittany, hoping there to obtain from Merlincounsel as to the proper course to pursue to insure success. 

CHAPTER XVII

SIR TRISTRAM

On arriving in Brittany Tristram found King Hoel engaged in a warwith a rebellious vassal, and hard pressed by his enemy. His bestknights had fallen in a late battle, and he knew not where to turnfor assistance. Tristram volunteered his aid. It was accepted; andthe army of Hoel, led by Tristram, and inspired by his example, gained a complete victory. The king, penetrated by the most livelysentiments of gratitude, and having informed himself of Tristram'sbirth, offered him his daughter in marriage. The princess wasbeautiful and accomplished, and bore the same name with the Queenof Cornwall; but this one is designated by the Romancers as Isoudeof the White Hands, to distinguish her from Isoude the Fair. 

How can we describe the conflict that agitated the heart ofTristram? He adored the first Isoude, but his love for her washopeless, and not unaccompanied by remorse. Moreover, the sacredquest on which he had now entered demanded of him perfect purityof life. It seemed as if a happy destiny had provided for him inthe charming princess Isoude of the White Hands the best securityfor all his good resolutions. This last reflection determined him. They were married, and passed some months in tranquil happiness atthe court of King Hoel. The pleasure which Tristram felt in hiswife's society increased day by day. An inward grace seemed tostir within him from the moment when he took the oath to go on thequest of the Holy Greal; it seemed even to triumph over the powerof the magic love-potion. 

The war, which had been quelled for a time, now burst out anew. Tristram as usual was foremost in every danger. The enemy wasworsted in successive conflicts, and at last shut himself up inhis principal city. Tristram led on the attack of the city. As hemounted a ladder to scale the walls he was struck on the head by afragment of rock, which the besieged threw down upon him. It borehim to the ground, where he lay insensible. 

As soon as he recovered consciousness he demanded to be carried tohis wife. The princess, skilled in the art of surgery, would notsuffer any one but herself to touch her beloved husband. Her fairhands bound up his wounds; Tristram kissed them with gratitude, which began to grow into love. At first the devoted cares ofIsoude seemed to meet with great success; but after a while theseflattering appearances vanished, and, in spite of all her care, the malady grew more serious day by day. 

In this perplexity, an old squire of Tristram's reminded hismaster that the princess of Ireland, afterwards queen of Cornwall, had once cured him under circumstances quite as discouraging. Hecalled Isoude of the White Hands to him, told her of his formercure, added that he believed that the Queen Isoude could heal him, and that he felt sure that she would come to his relief, if sentfor. 

Isoude of the White Hands consented that Gesnes, a trusty man andskilful navigator, should be sent to Cornwall. Tristram calledhim, and, giving him a ring, "Take this, " he said, "to the Queenof Cornwall. Tell her that Tristram, near to death, demands heraid. If you succeed in bringing her with you, place white sails toyour vessel on your return, that we may know of your success whenthe vessel first heaves in sight. But if Queen Isoude refuses, puton black sails; they will be the presage of my impending death. "

Gesnes performed his mission successfully. King Mark happened tobe absent from his capital, and the queen readily consented toreturn with the bark to Brittany. Gesnes clothed his vessel in thewhitest of sails, and sped his way back to Brittany. 

Meantime the wound of Tristram grew more desperate day by day. Hisstrength, quite prostrated, no longer permitted him to be carriedto the seaside daily, as had been his custom from the first momentwhen it was possible for the bark to be on the way homeward. Hecalled a young damsel, and gave her in charge to keep watch in thedirection of Cornwall, and to come and tell him the color of thesails of the first vessel she should see approaching. 

When Isoude of the White Hands consented that the queen ofCornwall should be sent for, she had not known all the reasonswhich she had for fearing the influence which renewed intercoursewith that princess might have on her own happiness. She had nowlearned more, and felt the danger more keenly. She thought, if shecould only keep the knowledge of the queen's arrival from herhusband, she might employ in his service any resources which herskill could supply, and still avert the dangers which sheapprehended. When the vessel was seen approaching, with its whitesails sparkling in the sun, the damsel, by command of hermistress, carried word to Tristram that the sails were black. 

Tristram, penetrated with inexpressible grief, breathed a profoundsigh, turned away his face, and said, "Alas, my beloved! we shallnever see one another again!" Then he commended himself to God, and breathed his last. 

The death of Tristram was the first intelligence which the queenof Cornwall heard on landing. She was conducted almost senselessinto the chamber of Tristram, and expired holding him in her arms. 

Tristram, before his death, had requested that his body should besent to Cornwall, and that his sword, with a letter he hadwritten, should be delivered to King Mark. The remains of Tristramand Isoude were embarked in a vessel, along with the sword, whichwas presented to the king of Cornwall. He was melted withtenderness when he saw the weapon which slew Moraunt of Ireland, --which had so often saved his life, and redeemed the honor of hiskingdom. In the letter Tristram begged pardon of his uncle, andrelated the story of the amorous draught. 

Mark ordered the lovers to be buried in his own chapel. From thetomb of Tristram there sprung a vine, which went along the walls, and descended into the grave of the queen. It was cut down threetimes, but each time sprung up again more vigorous than before, and this wonderful plant has ever since shaded the tombs ofTristram and Isoude. 

Spenser introduces Sir Tristram in his "Faery Queene. " In BookVI. , Canto ii. , Sir Calidore encounters in the forest a younghunter, whom he thus describes:

 "Him steadfastly he marked, and saw to be A goodly youth of amiable grace, Yet but a slender slip, that scarce did see Yet seventeen yeares; but tall and faire of face, That sure he deemed him borne of noble race. All in a woodman's jacket he was clad Of Lincoln greene, belayed with silver lace; And on his head an hood with aglets sprad, And by his side his hunter's horne he hanging had. 

[Footnote: Aglets, points or tags]

 "Buskins he wore of costliest cordawayne, Pinckt upon gold, and paled part per part, As then the guize was for each gentle swayne. In his right hand he held a trembling dart, Whose fellow he before had sent apart; And in his left he held a sharp bore-speare, With which he wont to launch the salvage heart Of many a lyon, and of many a beare, That first unto his hand in chase did happen neare. "

[Footnote: PINCKT UPON GOLD, ETC. , adorned with golden points, oreyelets, and regularly intersected with stripes. PALED (inheraldry), striped]

CHAPTER XVIII

PERCEVAL

The father and two elder brothers of Perceval had fallen in battleor tournaments, and hence, as the last hope of his family, hismother retired with him into a solitary region, where he wasbrought up in total ignorance of arms and chivalry. He was allowedno weapon but "a lyttel Scots spere, " which was the only thing ofall "her lordes faire gere" that his mother carried to the woodwith her. In the use of this he became so skilful, that he couldkill with it not only the animals of the chase for the table, buteven birds on the wing. At length, however, Perceval was roused toa desire of military renown by seeing in the forest five knightswho were in complete armor. He said to his mother, "Mother, whatare those yonder?" "They are angels, my son, " said she. "By myfaith, I will go and become an angel with them. " And Perceval wentto the road and met them. "Tell me, good lad, " said one of them, "sawest thou a knight pass this way either today or yesterday?" "Iknow not, " said he, "what a knight is. " "Such an one as I am, "said the knight. "If thou wilt tell me what I ask thee, I willtell thee what thou askest me. " "Gladly will I do so, " said SirOwain, for that was the knight's name. "What is this?" demandedPerceval, touching the saddle. "It is a saddle, " said Owain. Thenhe asked about all the accoutrements which he saw upon the men andthe horses, and about the arms, and what they were for, and howthey were used. And Sir Owain showed him all those things fully. And Perceval in return gave him such information as he had

Then Perceval returned to his mother, and said to her, "Mother, those were not angels, but honorable knights. " Then his motherswooned away. And Perceval went to the place where they kept thehorses that carried firewood and provisions for the castle, and hetook a bony, piebald horse, which seemed to him the strongest ofthem. And he pressed a pack into the form of a saddle, and withtwisted twigs he imitated the trappings which he had seen upon thehorses. When he came again to his mother, the countess hadrecovered from her swoon. "My son, " said she, "desirest thou toride forth?" "Yes, with thy leave, " said he. "Go forward, then, "she said, "to the court of Arthur, where there are the best andthe noblest and the most bountiful of men, and tell him thou artPerceval, the son of Pelenore, and ask of him to bestow knighthoodon thee. And whenever thou seest a church, repeat there thy pater-noster; and if thou see meat and drink, and hast need of them, thou mayest take them. If thou hear an outcry of one in distress, proceed toward it, especially if it be the cry of a woman, andrender her what service thou canst. If thou see a fair jewel, winit, for thus shalt thou acquire fame; yet freely give it toanother, for thus thou shalt obtain praise. If thou see a fairwoman, pay court to her, for thus thou wilt obtain love. "

After this discourse Perceval mounted the horse and taking anumber of sharp-pointed sticks in his hand he rode forth. And herode far in the woody wilderness without food or drink. At last hecame to an opening in the wood where he saw a tent, and as hethought it might be a church he said his pater-noster to it. Andhe went towards it; and the door of the tent was open. AndPerceval dismounted and entered the tent. In the tent he found amaiden sitting, with a golden frontlet on her forehead and a goldring on her hand. And Perceval said, "Maiden, I salute you, for mymother told me whenever I met a lady I must respectfully saluteher. " Perceiving in one corner of the tent some food, two flasksfull of wine, and some boar's flesh roasted, he said, "My mothertold me, whenever I saw meat and drink to take it. " And he ategreedily, for he was very hungry. The maiden said, "Sir, thouhadst best go quickly from here, for fear that my friends shouldcome, and evil should befall you. " But Perceval said, "My mothertold me wheresoever I saw a fair jewel to take it, " and he tookthe gold ring from her finger, and put it on his own; and he gavethe maiden his own ring in exchange for hers; then he mounted hishorse and rode away. 

Perceval journeyed on till he arrived at Arthur's court. And it sohappened that just at that time an uncourteous knight had offeredQueen Guenever a gross insult. For when her page was serving thequeen with a golden goblet, this knight struck the arm of the pageand dashed the wine in the queen's face and over her stomacher. Then he said, "If any have boldness to avenge this insult toGuenever, let him follow me to the meadow. " So the knight took hishorse and rode to the meadow, carrying away the golden goblet. Andall the household hung down their heads and no one offered tofollow the knight to take vengeance upon him. For it seemed tothem that no one would have ventured on so daring an outrageunless he possessed such powers, through magic or charms, thatnone could be able to punish him. Just then, behold, Percevalentered the hall upon the bony, piebald horse, with his uncouthtrappings. In the centre of the hall stood Kay the Seneschal. "Tell me, tall man, " said Perceval, "is that Arthur yonder?" "Whatwouldst thou with Arthur?" asked Kay. "My mother told me to go toArthur and receive knighthood from him. " "By my faith, " said he, "thou art all too meanly equipped with horse and with arms. " Thenall the household began to jeer and laugh at him. But there was acertain damsel who had been a whole year at Arthur's court, andhad never been known to smile. And the king's fool [Footnote: Afool was a common appendage of the courts of those days when thisromance was written. A fool was the ornament held in nextestimation to a dwarf. He wore a white dress with a yellow bonnet, and carried a bell or bawble in his hand. Though called a fool, his words were often weighed and remembered as if there were asort of oracular meaning in them. ] had said that this damsel wouldnot smile till she had seen him who would be the flower ofchivalry. Now this damsel came up to Perceval and told him, smiling, that if he lived he would be one of the bravest and bestof knights. "Truly, " said Kay, "thou art ill taught to remain ayear at Arthur's court, with choice of society, and smile on noone, and now before the face of Arthur and all his knights to callsuch a man as this the flower of knighthood;" and he gave her abox on the ear, that she fell senseless to the ground. Then saidKay to Perceval, "Go after the knight who went hence to themeadow, overthrow him and recover the golden goblet, and possessthyself of his horse and arms, and thou shalt have knighthood. " "Iwill do so, tall man, " said Perceval. So he turned his horse'shead toward the meadow. And when he came there, the knight wasriding up and down, proud of his strength and valor and noblemien. "Tell me, " said the knight, "didst thou see any one comingafter me from the court?" "The tall man that was there, " saidPerceval, "told me to come and overthrow thee, and to take fromthee the goblet and thy horse and armor for myself. " "Silence!"said the knight; "go back to the court, and tell Arthur either tocome himself, or to send some other to fight with me; and unlesshe do so quickly, I will not wait for him. " "By my faith, " saidPerceval, "choose thou whether it shall be willingly orunwillingly, for I will have the horse and the arms and thegoblet. " Upon this the knight ran at him furiously, and struck hima violent blow with the shaft of his spear, between the neck andthe shoulder. "Ha, ha, lad!" said Perceval, "my mother's servantswere not used to play with me in this wise; so thus will I playwith thee. " And he threw at him one of his sharp-pointed sticks, and it struck him in the eye, and came out at the back of hishead, so that he fell down lifeless. 

"Verily, " said Sir Owain, the son of Urien, to Kay the Seneschal, "thou wast ill-advised to send that madman after the knight, forhe must either be overthrown or flee, and either way it will be adisgrace to Arthur and his warriors; therefore will I go to seewhat has befallen him. " So Sir Owain went to the meadow, and hefound Perceval trying in vain to get the dead knight's armor off, in order to clothe himself with it. Sir Owain unfastened thearmor, and helped Perceval to put it on, and taught him how to puthis foot in the stirrup, and use the spur; for Perceval had neverused stirrup nor spur, but rode without saddle, and urged on hishorse with a stick. Then Owain would have had him return to thecourt to receive the praise that was his due; but Perceval said, "I will not come to the court till I have encountered the tall manthat is there, to revenge the injury he did to the maiden. Buttake thou the goblet to Queen Guenever, and tell King Arthur that, wherever I am, I will be his vassal, and will do him what profitand service I can. " And Sir Owain went back to the court, andrelated all these things to Arthur and Guenever, and to all thehousehold. 

And Perceval rode forward. And he came to a lake on the side ofwhich was a fair castle, and on the border of the lake he saw ahoary-headed man sitting upon a velvet cushion, and his attendantswere fishing in the lake. When the hoary-headed man beheldPerceval approaching, he arose and went into the castle. Percevalrode to the castle, and the door was open, and he entered thehall. And the hoary-headed man received Perceval courteously, andasked him to sit by him on the cushion. When it was time thetables were set, and they went to meat. And when they had finishedtheir meat the hoary-headed man asked Perceval if he knew how tofight with the sword "I know not, " said Perceval, "but were I tobe taught, doubtless I should. " And the hoary-headed man said tohim, "I am thy uncle, thy mother's brother; I am called KingPecheur. [Footnote: The word means both FISHER and SINNER. ] Thoushalt remain with me a space, in order to learn the manners andcustoms of different countries, and courtesy and noble bearing. And this do thou remember, if thou seest aught to cause thywonder, ask not the meaning of it; if no one has the courtesy toinform thee, the reproach will not fall upon thee, but upon methat am thy teacher. " While Perceval and his uncle discoursedtogether, Perceval beheld two youths enter the hall bearing agolden cup and a spear of mighty size, with blood dropping fromits point to the ground. And when all the company saw this theybegan to weep and lament. But for all that, the man did not breakoff his discourse with Perceval. And as he did not tell him themeaning of what he saw, he forebore to ask him concerning it. Nowthe cup that Perceval saw was the Sangreal, and the spear thesacred spear; and afterwards King Pecheur removed with thosesacred relics into a far country. 

One evening Perceval entered a valley, and came to a hermit'scell; and the hermit welcomed him gladly, and there he spent thenight. And in the morning he arose, and when he went forth, behold! a shower of snow had fallen in the night, and a hawk hadkilled a wild-fowl in front of the cell. And the noise of thehorse had scared the hawk away, and a raven alighted on the bird. And Perceval stood and compared the blackness of the raven and thewhiteness of the snow and the redness of the blood to the hair ofthe lady that best he loved, which was blacker than jet, and toher skin, which was whiter than the snow, and to the two red spotsupon her cheeks, which were redder than the blood upon the snow. 

Now Arthur and his household were in search of Perceval, and bychance they came that way. "Know ye, " said Arthur, "who is theknight with the long spear that stands by the brook up yonder?""Lord, " said one of them, "I will go and learn who he is. " So theyouth came to the place where Perceval was, and asked him what hedid thus, and who he was. But Perceval was so intent upon histhought that he gave him no answer. Then the youth thrust atPerceval with his lance; and Perceval turned upon him, and struckhim to the ground. And when the youth returned to the king, andtold how rudely he had been treated, Sir Kay said, "I will gomyself. " And when he greeted Perceval, and got no answer, he spoketo him rudely and angrily. And Perceval thrust at him with hislance, and cast him down so that he broke his arm and hisshoulder-blade. And while he lay thus stunned his horse returnedback at a wild and prancing pace. 

Then said Sir Gawain, surnamed the Golden-Tongued, because he wasthe most courteous knight in Arthur's court: "It is not fittingthat any should disturb an honorable knight from his thoughtunadvisedly; for either he is pondering some damage that he hassustained, or he is thinking of the lady whom best he loves. If itseem well to thee, lord, I will go and see if this knight haschanged from his thought, and if he has, I will ask himcourteously to come and visit thee. "

And Perceval was resting on the shaft of his spear, pondering thesame thought, and Sir Gawain came to him, and said: "If I thoughtit would be as agreeable to thee as it would be to me, I wouldconverse with thee. I have also a message from Arthur unto thee, to pray thee to come and visit him. And two men have been beforeon this errand. " "That is true, " said Perceval; "and uncourteouslythey came. They attacked me, and I was annoyed thereat" Then hetold him the thought that occupied his mind, and Gawain said, "This was not an ungentle thought, and I should marvel if it werepleasant for thee to be drawn from it. " Then said Perceval, "Tellme, is Sir Kay in Arthur's court?" "He is, " said Gawain; "andtruly he is the knight who fought with thee last. " "Verily, " saidPerceval, "I am not sorry to have thus avenged the insult to thesmiling maiden. "Then Perceval told him his name, and said, "Whoart thou?" And he replied, "I am Gawain. " "I am right glad to meetthee, " said Perceval, "for I have everywhere heard of thy prowessand uprightness; and I solicit thy fellowship. " "Thou shalt haveit, by my faith; and grant me thine, " said he. "Gladly will I doso, " answered Perceval. 

So they went together to Arthur, and saluted him. 

"Behold, lord, " said Gawain, "him whom thou hast sought so long. ""Welcome unto thee, chieftain, " said Arthur. And hereupon therecame the queen and her handmaidens, and Perceval saluted them. Andthey were rejoiced to see him, and bade him welcome. And Arthurdid him great honor and respect and they returned towardsCaerleon. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE SANGREAL, OR HOLY GRAAL

The Sangreal was the cup from which our Saviour drank at his lastsupper. He was supposed to have given it to Joseph of Arimathea, who carried it to Europe, together with the spear with which thesoldier pierced the Saviour's side. From generation to generation, one of the descendants of Joseph of Arimathea had been devoted tothe guardianship of these precious relics; but on the solecondition of leading a life of purity in thought, word, and deed. For a long time the Sangreal was visible to all pilgrims, and itspresence conferred blessings upon the land in which it waspreserved. But at length one of those holy men to whom itsguardianship had descended so far forgot the obligation of hissacred office as to look with unhallowed eye upon a young femalepilgrim whose robe was accidentally loosened as she knelt beforehim. The sacred lance instantly punished his frailty, spontaneously falling upon him, and inflicting a deep wound. Themarvellous wound could by no means be healed, and the guardian ofthe Sangreal was ever after called "Le Roi Pescheur, "--The SinnerKing. The Sangreal withdrew its visible presence from the crowdswho came to worship, and an iron age succeeded to the happinesswhich its presence had diffused among the tribes of Britain. 

 "But then the times Grew to such evil that the Holy cup Was caught away to heaven and disappear'd. " --The Holy Grail. 

We have told in the history of Merlin how that great prophet andenchanter sent a message to King Arthur by Sir Gawain, directinghim to undertake the recovery of the Sangreal, informing him atthe same time that the knight who should accomplish that sacredquest was already born, and of a suitable age to enter upon it. Sir Gawain delivered his message, and the king was anxiouslyrevolving in his mind how best to achieve the enterprise, when, atthe vigil of Pentecost, all the fellowship of the Round Tablebeing met together at Camelot, as they sat at meat, suddenly therewas heard a clap of thunder, and then a bright light burst forth, and every knight, as he looked on his fellow, saw him, in seeming, fairer than ever before. All the hall was filled with sweet odors, and every knight had such meat and drink as he best loved. Thenthere entered into the hall the Holy Graal, covered with whitesamite, so that none could see it, and it passed through the hallsuddenly, and disappeared. During this time no one spoke a word, but when they had recovered breath to speak King Arthur said, "Certainly we ought greatly to thank the Lord for what he hathshowed us this day. " Then Sir Gawain rose up, and made a vow thatfor twelve months and a day he would seek the Sangreal, and notreturn till he had seen it, if so he might speed. When they of theRound Table heard Sir Gawain say so, they arose, the most part ofthem, and vowed the same. When King Arthur heard this, he wasgreatly displeased, for he knew well that they might not gainsaytheir vows. "Alas!" said he to Sir Gawain, "you have nigh slain mewith the vow and promise that ye have made, for ye have bereft meof the fairest fellowship that ever were seen together in anyrealm of the world; for when they shall depart hence, I am surethat all shall never meet more in this world. "

SIR GALAHAD

At that time there entered the hall a good old man, and with himhe brought a young knight, and these words he said: "Peace be withyou, fair lords. " Then the old man said unto King Arthur, "Sir, Ibring you here a young knight that is of kings' lineage, and ofthe kindred of Joseph of Arimathea, being the son of Dame Elaine, the daughter of King Pelles, king of the foreign country. " Now thename of the young knight was Sir Galahad, and he was the son ofSir Launcelot du Lac; but he had dwelt with his mother, at thecourt of King Pelles, his grandfather, till now he was old enoughto bear arms, and his mother had sent him in the charge of a holyhermit to King Arthur's court. Then Sir Launcelot beheld his son, and had great joy of him. And Sir Bohort told his fellows, "Uponmy life, this young knight shall come to great worship. " The noisewas great in all the court, so that it came to the queen. And shesaid, "I would fain see him, for he must needs be a noble knight, for so is his father. " And the queen and her ladies all said thathe resembled much unto his father; and he was seemly and demure asa dove, with all manner of good features, that in the whole worldmen might not find his match. And King Arthur said, "God make hima good man, for beauty faileth him not, as any that liveth. "

Then the hermit led the young knight to the Siege Perilous; and helifted up the cloth, and found there letters that said, "This isthe seat of Sir Galahad, the good knight;" and he made him sit inthat seat. And all the knights of the Round Table marvelledgreatly at Sir Galahad, seeing him sit securely in that seat, andsaid, "This is he by whom the Sangreal shall be achieved, forthere never sat one before in that seat without being mischieved. "

On the next day the king said, "Now, at this quest of the Sangrealshall all ye of the Round Table depart, and never shall I see youagain altogether; therefore I will that ye all repair to themeadow of Camelot, for to just and tourney yet once more before yedepart. " But all the meaning of the king was to see Sir Galahadproved. So then were they all assembled in the meadow. Then SirGalahad, by request of the king and queen, put on his harness andhis helm, but shield would he take none for any prayer of theking. And the queen was in a tower, with all her ladies, to beholdthat tournament. Then Sir Galahad rode into the midst of themeadow; and there he began to break spears marvellously, so thatall men had wonder of him, for he surmounted all knights thatencountered with him, except two, Sir Launcelot and Sir Perceval. 

 "So many knights, that all the people cried, And almost burst the barriers in their heat, Shouting 'Sir Galahad and Sir Perceval!'"

 --Sir Galahad

Then the king, at the queen's request, made him to alight, andpresented him to the queen; and she said, "Never two men resembledone another more than he and Sir Launcelot, and therefore it is nomarvel that he is like him in prowess. "

Then the king and the queen went to the minster, and the knightsfollowed them. And after the service was done they put on theirhelms and departed, and there was great sorrow. They rode throughthe streets of Camelot, and there was weeping of the rich andpoor; and the king turned away, and might not speak for weeping. And so they departed, and every knight took the way that him bestliked. 

Sir Galahad rode forth without shield, and rode four days, andfound no adventure. And on the fourth day he came to a whiteabbey; and there he was received with great reverence, and led toa chamber. He met there two knights, King Bagdemagus and SirUwaine, and they made of him great solace. "Sirs, " said SirGalahad, "what adventure brought you hither?" "Sir, " said they, "it is told us that within this place is a shield, which no manmay bear unless he be worthy; and if one unworthy should attemptto bear it, it shall surely do him a mischief. " Then KingBagdemagus said, "I fear not to bear it, and that shall ye see to-morrow. "

So on the morrow they arose, and heard mass; then King Bagdemagusasked where the adventurous shield was. Anon a monk led him behindan altar, where the shield hung, as white as snow; but in themidst there was a red cross. Then King Bagdemagus took the shield, and bare it out of the minster; and he said to Sir Galahad, "If itplease you, abide here till ye know how I shall speed. "

Then King Bagdemagus and his squire rode forth: and when they hadridden a mile or two, they saw a goodly knight come towards them, in white armor, horse and all; and he came as fast as his horsemight run, with his spear in the rest; and King Bagdemagusdirected his spear against him, and broke it upon the whiteknight, but the other struck him so hard that he broke the mails, and thrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield coveredhim not, and so he bare him from his horse. Then the white knightturned his horse and rode away. 

Then the squire went to King Bagdemagus, and asked him whether hewere sore wounded or not. "I am sore wounded, " said he, "and fullhardly shall I escape death. " Then the squire set him on hishorse, and brought him to an abbey; and there he was taken downsoftly, and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and his wound was lookedto, for he lay there long, and hardly escaped with his life. Andthe squire brought the shield back to the abbey. 

The next day Sir Galahad took the shield, and within a while hecame to the hermitage, where he met the white knight, and eachsaluted the other courteously. "Sir, " said Sir Galahad, "can youtell me the marvel of the shield?" "Sir, " said the white knight, "that shield belonged of old to the gentle knight, Joseph ofArimathea; and when he came to die he said, 'Never shall man bearthis shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the timethat Sir Galahad the good knight bear it, the last of my lineage, the which shall do many marvellous deeds. '" And then the whiteknight vanished away. 

SIR GAWAIN

After Sir Gawain departed, he rode many days, both toward andforward, and at last he came to the abbey where Sir Galahad tookthe white shield. And they told Sir Gawain of the marvellousadventure that Sir Galahad had done. "Truly, " said Sir Gawain, "Iam not happy that I took not the way that he went, for, if I maymeet with him, I will not part from him lightly, that I maypartake with him all the marvellous adventures which he shallachieve. " "Sir, " said one of the monks, "he will not be of yourfellowship. " "Why?" said Sir Gawain. "Sir, " said he, "because yebe sinful, and he is blissful. " Then said the monk, "Sir Gawain, thou must do penance for thy sins. " "Sir, what penance shall Ido?" "Such as I will show, " said the good man. "Nay, " said SirGawain, "I will do no penance, for we knights adventurous oftensuffer great woe and pain. " "Well, " said the good man; and he heldhis peace. And Sir Gawain departed. 

Now it happened, not long after this, that Sir Gawain and SirHector rode together, and they came to a castle where was a greattournament. And Sir Gawain and Sir Hector joined themselves to theparty that seemed the weaker, and they drove before them the otherparty. Then suddenly came into the lists a knight, bearing a whiteshield with a red cross, and by adventure he came by Sir Gawain, and he smote him so hard that he clave his helm and wounded hishead, so that Sir Gawain fell to the earth. When Sir Hector sawthat, he knew that the knight with the white shield was SirGalahad, and he thought it no wisdom to abide him, and also fornatural love, that he was his uncle. Then Sir Galahad retiredprivily, so that none knew where he had gone. And Sir Hectorraised up Sir Gawain, and said, "Sir, me seemeth your quest isdone. " "It is done, " said Sir Gawain; "I shall seek no further. "Then Gawain was borne into the castle, and unarmed, and laid in arich bed, and a leech found to search his wound. And Sir Gawainand Sir Hector abode together, for Sir Hector would not away tillSir Gawain were whole. 

CHAPTER XX

THE SANGREAL (Continued)

SIR LAUNCELOT

Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wide forest, andheld no path but as wild adventure lee him. 

 "My golden spurs now bring to me, And bring to me my richest mail, For to-morrow I go over land and sea In search of the Holy, Holy Grail

 Shall never a bed for me be spread, Nor shall a pillow be under my head, Till I begin my vow to keep. Here on the rushes will I sleep, And perchance there may come a vision true Ere day create the world anew"

 --Lowell's Holy Grail. 

And at last he came to a stone cross. Then Sir Launcelot lookedround him, and saw an old chapel. So he tied his horse to a tree, and put off his shield, and hung it upon a tree; and then he wentinto the chapel, and looked through a place where the wall wasbroken. And within he saw a fair altar, full richly arrayed withcloth of silk; and there stood a fair candlestick, which bare sixgreat candles, and the candlestick was of silver. When SirLauncelot saw this sight, he had a great wish to enter the chapel, but he could find no place where he might enter. Then was hepassing heavy and dismayed. And he returned and came again to hishorse, and took off his saddle and his bridle, and let himpasture; and unlaced his helm, and ungirded his sword, and laidhim down to sleep upon his shield before the cross. 

And as he lay, half waking and half sleeping, he saw come by himtwo palfreys, both fair and white, which bare a litter, on whichlay a sick knight. And when he was nigh the cross, he there abodestill. And Sir Launcelot heard him say, "O sweet Lord, when shallthis sorrow leave me, and when shall the holy vessel come by mewhereby I shall be healed?" And thus a great while complained theknight, and Sir Launcelot heard it. Then Sir Launcelot saw thecandlestick, with the lighted tapers, come before the cross, buthe could see nobody that brought it. Also there came a salver ofsilver and the holy vessel of the Sangreal; and therewithal thesick knight sat him upright, and held up both his hands, and said, "Fair, sweet Lord, which is here within the holy vessel, take heedto me, that I may be whole of this great malady. " And therewith, upon his hands and upon his knees, he went so nigh that he touchedthe holy vessel and kissed it. And anon he was whole. Then theholy vessel went into the chapel again, with the candlestick andthe light, so that Sir Launcelot wist not what became of it. 

Then the sick knight rose up and kissed the cross; and anon hissquire brought him his arms and asked his lord how he did. "Ithank God right heartily, " said he, "for, through the holy vessel, I am healed. But I have great marvel of this sleeping knight, whohath had neither grace nor power to awake during the time that theholy vessel hath been here present. " "I dare it right well say, "said the squire, "that this same knight is stained with somemanner of deadly sin, whereof he was never confessed. " So theydeparted. 

Then anon Sir Launcelot waked, and set himself upright, andbethought him of what he had seen and whether it were dreams ornot. And he was passing heavy, and wist not what to do. And hesaid: "My sin and my wretchedness hath brought me into greatdishonor. For when I sought worldly adventures and worldlydesires, I ever achieved them, and had the better in every place, and never was I discomfited in any quarrel, were it right orwrong. And now I take upon me the adventure of holy things, I seeand understand that mine old sin hindereth me, so that I had nopower to stir nor to speak when the holy blood appeared beforeme. " So thus he sorrowed till it was day, and heard the fowls ofthe air sing. Then was he somewhat comforted. 

Then he departed from the cross into the forest. And there hefound a hermitage, and a hermit therein, who was going to mass. Sowhen mass was done Sir Launcelot called the hermit to him, andprayed him for charity to hear his confession. "With a good will, "said the good man. And then he told that good man all his life, and how he had loved a queen unmeasurably many years. "And all mygreat deeds of arms that I have done I did the most part for thequeen's sake, and for her sake would I do battle, were it right orwrong, and never did I battle all only for God's sake, but for towin worship, and to cause me to be better beloved; and little ornaught I thanked God for it. I pray you counsel me. "

"I will counsel you, " said the hermit, "if ye will insure me thatye will never come in that queen's fellowship as much as ye mayforbear. " And then Sir Launcelot promised the hermit, by hisfaith, that he would no more come in her company. "Look that yourheart and your mouth accord, " said the good man, "and I shallinsure you that ye shall have more worship than ever ye had. "

Then the good man enjoined Sir Launcelot such penance as he mightdo, and he assailed Sir Launcelot and made him abide with him allthat day. And Sir Launcelot repented him greatly. 

SIR PERCEVAL

Sir Perceval departed and rode till the hour of noon; and he metin a valley about twenty men of arms. And when they saw SirPerceval, they asked him whence he was; and he answered: "Of thecourt of King Arthur. " Then they cried all at once, "Slay him. "But Sir Perceval smote the first to the earth, and his horse uponhim. Then seven of the knights smote upon his shield all at once, and the remnant slew his horse, so that he fell to the earth. Sohad they slain him or taken him, had not the good knight SirGalahad, with the red cross, come there by adventure. And when hesaw all the knights upon one, he cried out, "Save me that knight'slife. " Then he rode toward the twenty men of arms as fast as hishorse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and smote theforemost horse and man to the earth. And when his spear wasbroken, he set his hand to his sword, and smote on the right handand on the left, that it was marvel to see; and at every stroke hesmote down one, or put him to rebuke, so that they would fight nomore, but fled to a thick forest, and Sir Galahad followed them. And when Sir Perceval saw him chase them so, he made great sorrowthat his horse was slain. And he wist well it was Sir Galahad. Then he cried aloud, "Ah, fair knight, abide, and suffer me to dothanks unto thee; for right well have ye done for me. " But SirGalahad rode so fast that at last he passed out of his sight. WhenSir Perceval saw that he would not turn, he said, "Now am I a verywretch, and most unhappy above all other knights. " So in hissorrow he abode all that day till it was night; and then he wasfaint, and laid him down and slept till midnight; and then heawaked and saw before him a woman, who said unto him, "SirPerceval, what dost thou here?" He answered, "I do neither good, nor great ill. " "If thou wilt promise me, " said she, "that thouwilt fulfil my will when I summon thee, I will lend thee my ownhorse, which shall bear thee whither thou wilt. " Sir Perceval wasglad of her proffer, and insured her to fulfil all her desire. "Then abide me here, and I will go fetch you a horse. " And so shesoon came again, and brought a horse with her that was inky black. When Perceval beheld that horse he marvelled, it was so great andso well apparelled. And he leapt upon him and took no heed ofhimself. And he thrust him with his spurs, and within an hour andless he bare him four days' journey thence, until he came to arough water, which roared, and his horse would have borne him intoit. And when Sir Perceval came nigh the brim and saw the water soboisterous he doubted to overpass it. And then he made the sign ofthe cross on his forehead. When the fiend felt him so charged, heshook off Sir Perceval, and went into the water crying androaring; and it seemed unto him that the water burned. Then SirPerceval perceived it was a fiend that would have brought him untohis perdition. Then he commended himself unto God, and prayed ourLord to keep him from all such temptations; and so he prayed allthat night till it was day. Then he saw that he was in a wildplace, that was closed with the sea nigh all about. And SirPerceval looked forth over the sea, and saw a ship come sailingtowards him; and it came and stood still under the rock. And whenSir Perceval saw this, he hied him thither, and found the shipcovered with silk; and therein was a lady of great beauty, andclothed so richly that none might be better. 

And when she saw Sir Perceval, she saluted him, and Sir Percevalreturned her salutation. Then he asked her of her country and herlineage. And she said, "I am a gentlewoman that am disinherited, and was once the richest woman of the world. " "Damsel, " said SirPerceval, "who hath disinherited you? for I have great pity ofyou. " "Sir, " said she, "my enemy is a great and powerful lord, andaforetime he made much of me, so that of his favor and of mybeauty I had a little pride more than I ought to have had. Also Isaid a word that pleased him not. So he drove me from his companyand from mine heritage. Therefore I know no good knight nor goodman, but I get him on my side if I may. And for that I know thatthou art a good knight, I beseech thee to help me. "

Then Sir Perceval promised her all the help that he might, and shethanked him. 

And at that time the weather was hot, and she called to her agentlewoman, and bade her bring forth a pavilion. And she did so, and pitched it upon the gravel. "Sir, " said she, "now may ye restyou in this heat of the day. " Then he thanked her, and she put offhis helm and his shield, and there he slept a great while. Then heawoke, and asked her if she had any meat, and she said yea, and sothere was set upon the table all manner of meats that he couldthink on. Also he drank there the strongest wine that ever hedrank, and therewith he was a little chafed more than he ought tobe. With that he beheld the lady, and he thought she was thefairest creature that ever he saw. And then Sir Perceval profferedher love, and prayed her that she would be his. Then she refusedhim in a manner, for the cause he should be the more ardent onher, and ever he ceased not to pray her of love. And when she sawhim well enchafed, then she said, "Sir Perceval, wit you well Ishall not give ye my love, unless you swear from henceforth youwill be my true servant, and do no thing but that I shall commandyou. Will you insure me this, as ye be a true knight?" "Yea, " saidhe, "fair lady, by the faith of my body. " And as he said this, byadventure and grace, he saw his sword lie on the ground naked, inwhose pommel was a red cross, and the sign of the crucifixthereon. Then he made the sign of the cross on his forehead, andtherewith the pavilion shrivelled up, and changed into a smoke anda black cloud. And the damsel cried aloud, and hasted into theship, and so she went with the wind roaring and yelling that itseemed all the water burned after her. Then Sir Perceval madegreat sorrow, and called himself a wretch, saying, "How nigh was Ilost!" Then he took his arms, and departed thence. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE SANGREAL (Continued)

SIR BOHORT

When Sir Boliort departed from Camelot he met with a religiousman, riding upon an ass; and Sir Bohort saluted him. "What areye?" said the good man. "Sir, " said Sir Bohort, "I am a knightthat fain would be counselled in the quest of the Sangreal. " Sorode they both together till they came to a hermitage; and therehe prayed Sir Bohort to dwell that night with him. So he alighted, and put away his armor, and prayed him that he might be confessed. And they went both into the chapel, and there he was cleanconfessed. And they ate bread and drank water together. "Now, "said the good man, "I pray thee that thou eat none other till thousit at the table where the Sangreal shall be. " "Sir, " said SirBohort, "but how know ye that I shall sit there?" "Yea, " said thegood man, "that I know well; but there shall be few of yourfellows with you. " Then said Sir Bohort, "I agree me thereto" Andthe good man when he had heard his confession found him in so purea life and so stable that he marvelled thereof. 

On the morrow, as soon as the day appeared, Sir Bohort departedthence, and rode into a forest unto the hour of midday. And therebefell him a marvellous adventure. For he met, at the parting oftwo ways, two knights that led Sir Lionel, his brother, all naked, bound upon a strong hackney, and his hands bound before hisbreast; and each of them held in his hand thorns wherewith theywent beating him, so that he was all bloody before and behind; buthe said never a word, but, as he was great of heart, he sufferedall that they did to him as though he had felt none anguish. SirBohort prepared to rescue his brother. But he looked on the otherside of him, and saw a knight dragging along a fair gentlewoman, who cried out, "Saint Mary! succor your maid!" And when she sawSir Bohort, she called to him, and said, "By the faith that ye oweto knighthood, help me!" When Sir Bohort heard her say thus he hadsuch sorrow that he wist not what to do. "For if I let my brotherbe he must be slain, and that would I not for all the earth; andif I help not the maid I am shamed for ever. " Then lift he up hiseyes and said, weeping, "Fair Lord, whose liegeman I am, keep SirLionel, my brother, that none of these knights slay him, and forpity of you, and our Lady's sake, I shall succor this maid. "

Then he cried out to the knight, "Sir knight, lay your hand offthat maid, or else ye be but dead. " Then the knight set down themaid, and took his shield, and drew out his sword. And Sir Bohortsmote him so hard that it went through his shield and habergeon, on the left shoulder, and he fell down to the earth. Then came SirBohort to the maid, "Ye be delivered of this knight this time. ""Now, " said she, "I pray you lead me there where this knight tookme. " "I shall gladly do it, " said Sir Bohort. So he took the horseof the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon it, andbrought her there where she desired to be. And there he foundtwelve knights seeking after her; and when she told them how SirBohort had delivered her, they made great joy, and besought him tocome to her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcomed. "Truly, " said Sir Bohort, "that may not be; for I have a greatadventure to do. " So he commended them to God and departed. 

Then Sir Bohort rode after Sir Lionel, his brother, by the traceof their horses. Thus he rode seeking, a great while. Then heovertook a man clothed in a religious clothing, who said, "SirKnight, what seek ye?" "Sir, " said Sir Bohort, "I seek my brother, that I saw within a little space beaten of two knights. " "Ah, SirBohort, tiouble not thyself to seek for him, for truly he isdead. " Then he showed him a new-slain body, lying in a thick bush;and it seemed him that it was the body of Sir Lionel. And then hemade such sorrow that he fell to the ground in a swoon, and laythere long. And when he came to himself again, he said, "Fairbrother, since the fellowship of you and me is sundered, shall Inever have joy again; and now He that I have taken for my Master, He be my help!" And when he had said thus he took up the body inhis arms, and put it upon the horse. And then he said to the man, "Canst thou tell me the way to some chapel, where I may bury thisbody?" "Come on, " said the man, "here is one fast by. " And so theyrode till they saw a fair tower, and beside it a chapel. Then theyalighted both, and put the body into a tomb of marble. 

Then Sir Bohort commended the good man unto God, and departed. Andhe rode all that day, and harbored with an old lady. And on themorrow he rode unto the castle in a valley, and there he met witha yeoman. "Tell me, " said Sir Bohort, "knowest thou of anyadventure?" "Sir, " said he, "here shall be, under this castle, agreat and marvellous tournament. " Then Sir Bohort thought to bethere, if he might meet with any of the fellowship that were inquest of the Sangreal; so he turned to a hermitage that was on theborder of the forest. And when he was come hither, he found thereSir Lionel his brother, who sat all armed at the entry of thechapel door. And when Sir Bohort saw him, he had great joy, and healighted off his horse, and said. "Fair brother, when came yehither?" As soon as Sir Lionel saw him he said, "Ah, Sir Bohort, make ye no false show, for, as for you, I might have been slain, for ye left me in peril of death to go succor a gentlewoman; andfor that misdeed I now assure you but death, for ye have rightwell deserved it. " When Sir Bohort perceived his brother's wrathhe kneeled down to the earth and cried him mercy, holding up bothhis hands, and prayed him to forgive him. "Nay, " said Sir Lionel, "thou shalt have but death for it, if I have the upper hand;therefore leap upon thy horse and keep thyself, and if thou do notI will run upon thee there as thou standest on foot, and so theshame shall be mine, and the harm thine, but of that I reck not. "When Sir Bohort saw that he must fight with his brother or elsedie, he wist not what to do. Then his heart counselled him not soto do, inasmuch as Sir Lionel was his elder brother, wherefore heought to bear him reverence. Yet kneeled he down before SirLionel's horse's feet, and said, "Fair brother, have mercy upon meand slay me not. " But Sir Lionel cared not, for the fiend hadbrought him in such a will that he should slay him. When he sawthat Sir Bohort would not rise to give him battle, he rushed overhim, so that he smote him with his horse's feet to the earth, andhurt him sore, that he swooned of distress. When Sir Lionel sawthis he alighted from his horse for to have smitten off his head;and so he took him by the helm, and would have rent it from hishead. But it happened that Sir Colgrevance, a knight of the RoundTable, came at that time thither, as it was our Lord's will; andthen he beheld how Sir Lionel would have slain his brother, and heknew Sir Bohort, whom he loved right well. 

Then leapt he down from his horse and took Sir Lionel by theshoulders, and drew him strongly back from Sir Bohort, and said, "Sir Lionel, will ye slay your brother?" "Why, " said Sir Lionel, "will ye stay me? If ye interfere in this I will slay you, and himafter. " Then he ran upon Sir Bohort, and would have smitten him;but Sir Colgrevance ran between them, and said, "If ye persist todo so any more, we two shall meddle together. " Then Sir Lioneldefied him, and gave him a great stroke through the helm. Then hedrew his sword, for he was a passing good knight, and defendedhimself right manfully. So long endured the battle, that SirBohort rose up all anguishly, and beheld Sir Colgrevance, the goodknight, fight with his brother for his quarrel. Then was he fullsorry and heavy, and thought that if Sir Colgrevance slew him thatwas his brother he should never have joy, and if his brother slewSir Colgrevance the shame should ever be his. 

Then would he have risen for to have parted them, but he had notso much strength to stand on his feet; so he staid so long thatSir Colgrevance had the worse; for Sir Lionel was of greatchivalry and right hardy. Then cried Sir Colgrevance, "Ah, SirBohort, why come ye not to bring me out of peril of death, whereinI have put me to succor you?" With that, Sir Lionel smote off hishelm and bore him to the earth. And when he had slain SirColgrevance he ran upon his brother as a fiendly man, and gave himsuch a stroke that he made him stoop. And he that was full ofhumility prayed him, "for God's sake leave this battle, for if itbefell, fair brother, that I slew you, or ye me, we should be deadof that sin. " "Pray ye not me for mercy, " said Sir Lionel. ThenSir Bohort, all weeping, drew his sword, and said, "Now God havemercy upon me, though I defend my life against my brother. " Withthat Sir Bohort lifted up his sword, and would have smitten hisbrother. Then he heard a voice that said, "Flee, Sir Bohort, andtouch him not. " Right so alighted a cloud between them, in thelikeness of a fire and a marvellous flame, so that they both fellto the earth, and lay there a great while in a swoon. And whenthey came to themselves, Sir Bohort saw that his brother had noharm; and he was right glad, for he dread sore that God had takenvengeance upon him. Then Sir Lionel said to his brother, "Brother, forgive me, for God's sake, all that I have trespassed againstyou. " And Sir Bohort answered, "God forgive it thee, and I do. "

With that Sir Bohort heard a voice say, "Sir Bohort, take thy wayanon, right to the sea, for Sir Perceval abideth thee there. " SoSir Bohort departed, and rode the nearest way to the sea. And atlast he came to an abbey that was nigh the sea. That night herested him there, and in his sleep there came a voice unto him andbade him go to the sea-shore. He started up, and made a sign ofthe cross on his forehead, and armed himself, and made ready hishorse and mounted him, and at a broken wall he rode out, and cameto the sea-shore. And there he found a ship, covered all withwhite samite. And he entered into the ship; but it was anon sodark that he might see no man, and he laid him down and slept tillit was day. Then he awaked, and saw in the middle of the ship aknight all armed, save his helm. And then he knew it was SirPerceval de Galis, and each made of other right great joy. Thensaid Sir Perceval, "We lack nothing now but the good knight SirGalahad. "

SIR LAUNCELOT (Resumed)

It befell upon a night Sir Launcelot arrived before a castle, which was rich and fair. And there was a postern that was openedtoward the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lionskept the entry; and the moon shined clear. Anon Sir Launcelotheard a voice that said, "Launcelot, enter into the castle, wherethou shalt see a great part of thy desire. " So he went unto thegate, and saw the two lions; then he set hands to his sword, anddrew it. Then there came suddenly as it were a stroke upon thearm, so sore that the sword fell out of his hand, and he heard avoice that said, "O man of evil faith, wherefore believest thoumore in thy armor than in thy Maker?" Then said Sir Launcelot, "Fair Lord, I thank thee of thy great mercy, that thou reprovestme of my misdeed; now see I well that thou holdest me for thyservant. " Then he made a cross on his forehead, and came to thelions; and they made semblance to do him harm, but he passed themwithout hurt, and entered into the castle, and he found no gatenor door but it was open. But at the last he found a chamberwhereof the door was shut; and he set his hand thereto, to haveopened it, but he might not. Then he listened, and heard a voicewhich sung so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing; and thevoice said, "Joy and honor be to the Father of heaven. " Then SirLauncelot kneeled down before the chamber, for well he wist thatthere was the Sangreal in that chamber. Then said he, "Fair, sweetLord, if ever I did anything that pleased thee, for thy pity showme something of that which I seek. " And with that he saw thechamber door open, and there came out a great clearness, that thehouse was as bright as though all the torches of the world hadbeen there. So he came to the chamber door, and would haveentered; and anon a voice said unto him, "Stay, Sir Launcelot, andenter not. " And he withdrew him back, and was right heavy in hismind. Then looked he in the midst of the chamber, and saw a tableof silver, and the holy vessel, covered with red samite, and manyangels about it; whereof one held a candle of wax burning, andanother held a cross, and the ornaments of the altar. 

 "O, yet methought I saw the Holy Grail, All pall'd in crimson samite, and around Great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes"

 --The Holy Grail. 

Then for very wonder and thankfulness Sir Launcelot forgot himselfand he stepped forward and entered the chamber. And suddenly abreath that seemed intermixed with fire smote him so sore in thevisage that therewith he fell to the ground, and had no power torise. Then felt he many hands about him, which took him up andbare him out of the chamber, without any amending of his swoon, and left him there, seeming dead to all the people. So on themorrow, when it was fair daylight, and they within were arisen, they found Sir Launcelot lying before the chamber door. And theylooked upon him and felt his pulse, to know if there were any lifein him. And they found life in him, but he might neither stand norstir any member that he had. So they took him and bare him into achamber, and laid him upon a bed, far from all folk, and there helay many days. Then the one said he was alive, and the others saidnay. But said an old man, "He is as full of life as the mightiestof you all, and therefore I counsel you that he be well kept tillGod bring him back again. " And after twenty-four days he openedhis eyes; and when he saw folk he made great sorrow, and said, "Why have ye wakened me? for I was better at ease than I am now. ""What have ye seen?" said they about him. "I have seen, " said he, "great marvels that no tongue can tell, and more than any heartcan think. " Then they said, "Sir, the quest of the Sangreal isachieved right now in you, and never shall ye see more of it thanye have seen. " "I thank God, " said Sir Launcelot, "of his greatmercy, for that I have seen, for it sufficeth me. " Then he rose upand clothed himself; and when he was so arrayed they marvelledall, for they knew it was Sir Launcelot the good knight. And afterfour days he took his leave of the lord of the castle, and of allthe fellowship that were there, and thanked them for their greatlabor and care of him. Then he departed, and turned to Camelot, where he found King Arthur and Queen Guenever; but many of theknights of the Round Table were slain and destroyed, more thanhalf. Then all the court was passing glad of Sir Launcelot; and hetold the king all his adventures that had befallen him since hedeparted. 

SIR GALAHAD

Now, when Sir Galahad had rescued Perceval from the twentyknights, he rode into a vast forest, wherein he abode many days. Then he took his way to the sea, and it befell him that he wasbenighted in a hermitage. And the good man was glad when he saw hewas a knight-errant. And when they were at rest, there came agentlewoman knocking at the door; and the good man came to thedoor to wit what she would. Then she said, "I would speak with theknight which is with you. " Then Galahad went to her, and asked herwhat she would. "Sir Galahad, " said she, "I will that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse, and follow me; for I will show you thehighest adventure that ever knight saw. " Then Galahad armedhimself and commended himself to God, and bade the damsel gobefore, and he would follow where she led. 

So she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till she cameto the sea; and there they found the ship where Sir Bohort and SirPerceval were, who cried from the ship, "Sir Galahad, you arewelcome; we have waited you long. " And when he heard them, heasked the damsel who they were. "Sir, " said she, "leave your horsehere, and I shall leave mine, and we will join ourselves to theircompany. " So they entered into the ship, and the two knightsreceived them both with great joy. For they knew the damsel, thatshe was Sir Perceval's sister. Then the wind arose and drove themthrough the sea all that day and the next, till the ship arrivedbetween two rocks, passing great and marvellous; but there theymight not land, for there was a whirlpool; but there was anothership, and upon it they might go without danger. "Go we thither, "said the gentlewoman, "and there we shall see adventures, for suchis our Lord's will. " Then Sir Galahad blessed him, and enteredtherein, and then next the gentlewoman, and then Sir Bohort andSir Perceval. And when they came on board they found there thetable of silver, and the Sangreal, which was covered with redsamite. And they made great reverence thereto, and Sir Galahadprayed a long time to our Lord, that at what time he should ask topass out of this world he should do so; and a voice said to him, "Galahad, thou shalt have thy request; and when thou askest thedeath of thy body, thou shalt have it, and then shalt thou findthe life of thy soul. "

And anon the wind drove them across the sea, till they came to thecity of Sarras. Then took they out of the ship the table ofsilver, and Sir Perceval and Sir Bohort took it before, and SirGalahad came behind, and right so they went to the city. And atthe gate of the city they saw an old man, a cripple. 

 "And Sir Launfal said, 'I behold in thee An image of Him who died on the tree Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, Thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns; And to thy life were not denied The wounds in thy hands and feet and side Mild Mary's son, acknowledge me; Behold, through Him I give to thee!'"

 --Lowell's Holy Grail. 

Then Galahad called him, and bade him help to bear this heavything. "Truly, " said the old man, "it is ten years since I couldnot go but with crutches. " "Care thou not, " said Sir Galahad, "butarise up, and show thy good will. " Then the old man rose up, andassayed, and found himself as whole as ever he was; and he ran tothe table, and took one part with Sir Galahad. 

When they came to the city it chanced that the king was just dead, and all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be theirking. Right so, as they were in counsel, there came a voice amongthem, and bade them choose the youngest knight of those three tobe their king. So they made Sir Galahad king, by all the assent ofthe city. And when he was made king, he commanded to make a chestof gold and of precious stones to hold the holy vessel. And everyday the three companions would come before it and make theirprayers. 

Now at the year's end, and the same day of the year that SirGalahad received the crown, he got up early, and, with hisfellows, came to where the holy vessel was; and they saw onekneeling before it that had about him a great fellowship ofangels; and he called Sir Galahad, and said, "Come, thou servantof the Lord, and thou shalt see what thou hast much desired tosee. " And Sir Galahad's mortal flesh trembled right hard when hebegan to behold the spiritual things. Then said the good man, "Nowwottest thou who I am?" "Nay, " said Sir Galahad. "I am Joseph ofArimathea, whom our Lord hath sent here to thee, to bear theefellowship. " Then Sir Galahad held up his hands toward heaven, andsaid, "Now, blessed Lord, would I not longer live, if it mightplease thee. " And when he had said these words, Sir Galahad wentto Sir Perceval and to Sir Bohort and kissed them, and commendedthem to God. And then he kneeled down before the table, and madehis prayers, and suddenly his soul departed, and a great multitudeof angels bare his soul up to heaven, so as the two fellows couldwell behold it. Also they saw come from heaven a hand, but theysaw not the body; and the hand came right to the vessel and bareit up to heaven. Since then was there never one so hardy as to saythat he had seen the Sangreal on earth any more. 

CHAPTER XXII

SIR AGRIVAIN'S TREASON

When Sir Perceval and Sir Bohort saw Sir Galahad dead they made asmuch sorrow as ever did two men. And if they had not been good menthey might have fallen into despair. As soon as Sir Galahad wasburied Sir Perceval retired to a hermitage out of the city, andtook a religious clothing; and Sir Bohort was always with him, butdid not change his secular clothing, because he purposed to returnto the realm of Loegria. Thus a year and two months lived SirPerceval in the hermitage a full holy life, and then passed out ofthis world, and Sir Bohort buried him by his sister and SirGalahad. Then Sir Bohort armed himself and departed from Sarras, and entered into a ship, and sailed to the kingdom of Loegria, andin due time arrived safe at Camelot, where the king was. Then wasthere great joy made of him in the whole court, for they feared hehad been dead. Then the king made great clerks to come before him, that they should chronicle of the high adventures of the goodknights. And Sir Bohort told him of the adventures that hadbefallen him, and his two fellows, Sir Perceval and Sir Galahad. And Sir Launcelot told the adventures of the Sangreal that he hadseen. All this was made in great books, and put up in the churchat Salisbury. 

So King Arthur and Queen Guenever made great joy of the remnantthat were come home, and chiefly of Sir Launcelot and Sir Bohort. Then Sir Launcelot began to resort unto Queen Guenever again, andforgot the promise that he made in the quest: so that many in thecourt spoke of it, and in especial Sir Agrivain, Sir Gawain'sbrother, for he was ever open-mouthed. So it happened Sir Gawainand all his brothers were in King Arthur's chamber, and then SirAgrivain said thus openly, "I marvel that we all are not ashamedto see and to know so noble a knight as King Arthur so to beshamed by the conduct of Sir Launcelot and the queen. "Then spokeSir Gawain, and said, "Brother, Sir Agrivain, I pray you andcharge you move not such matters any more before me, for be yeassured I will not be of your counsel. " "Neither will we, " saidSir Gaheris and Sir Gareth. "Then will I, " said Sir Modred. "Idoubt you not, " said Sir Gawain, "for to all mischief ever were yeprone; yet I would that ye left all this, for I know what willcome of it. "

 "Modred's narrow foxy face, Heart-hiding smile, and gray persistent eye: Henceforward, too, the Powers that tend the soul To help it from the death that cannot die, And save it even in extremes, began To vex and plague. "

 --Guinevere. 

"Fall of it what fall may, " said Sir Agrivain, "I will disclose itto the king. " With that came to them King Arthur. "Now, brothers, hold your peace, " said Sir Gawain. "We will not, " said SirAgrivain. Then said Sir Gawain, "I will not hear your tales nor beof your counsel. " "No more will I, " said Sir Gareth and SirGaheris, and therewith they departed, making great sorrow. 

Then Sir Agrivain told the king all that was said in the court ofthe conduct of Sir Launcelot and the queen, and it grieved theking very much. But he would not believe it to be true withoutproof. So Sir Agrivain laid a plot to entrap Sir Launcelot and thequeen, intending to take them together unawares. Sir Agrivain andSir Modred led a party for this purpose, but Sir Launcelot escapedfrom them, having slain Sir Agrivain and wounded Sir Modred. ThenSir Launcelot hastened to his friends, and told them what hadhappened, and withdrew with them to the forest; but he left spiesto bring him tidings of whatever might be done. 

So Sir Launcelot escaped, but the queen remained in the king'spower, and Arthur could no longer doubt of her guilt. And the lawwas such in those days that they who committed such crimes, ofwhat estate or condition soever they were, must be burned todeath, and so it was ordained for Queen Guenever. Then said KingArthur to Sir Gawain, "I pray you make you ready, in your bestarmor, with your brethren, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, to bring myqueen to the fire, there to receive her death. " "Nay, my mostnoble lord, " said Sir Gawain, "that will I never do; for know thouwell, my heart will never serve me to see her die, and it shallnever be said that I was of your counsel in her death. " Then theking commanded Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth to be there, and theysaid, "We will be there, as ye command us, sire, but in peaceablewise, and bear no armor upon us. "

So the queen was led forth, and her ghostly father was brought toher to shrive her, and there was weeping and wailing of many lordsand ladies. And one went and told Sir Launcelot that the queen wasled forth to her death. Then Sir Launcelot and the knights thatwere with him fell upon the troop that guarded the queen, anddispersed them, and slew all who withstood them. And in theconfusion Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris were slain, for they wereunarmed and defenceless. And Sir Launcelot carried away the queento his castle of La Joyeuse Garde. 

Then there came one to Sir Gawain and told him how that SirLauncelot had slain the knights and carried away the queen. "OLord, defend my brethren!" said Sir Gawain. "Truly, " said the man, "Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris are slain. " "Alas!" said Sir Gawain, "now is my joy gone. " And then he fell down and swooned, and longhe lay there as he had been dead. 

When he arose out of his swoon Sir Gawain ran to the king, crying, "O King Arthur, mine uncle, my brothers are slain. " Then the kingwept and he both. "My king, my lord, and mine uncle, " said SirGawain, "bear witness now that I make you a promise that I shallhold by my knighthood, and from this day I will never fail SirLauncelot until the one of us have slain the other. I will seekSir Launcelot throughout seven kings' realms, but I shall slay himor he shall slay me. " "Ye shall not need to seek him, " said theking, "for as I hear, Sir Launcelot will abide me and you in theJoyeuse Garde; and much people draweth unto him, as I hear say. ""That may I believe, " said Sir Gawain; "but, my lord, summon yourfriends, and I will summon mine. " "It shall be done, " said theking. So then the king sent letters and writs throughout allEngland, both in the length and breadth, to summon all hisknights. And unto Arthur drew many knights, dukes, and earls, sothat he had a great host. Thereof heard Sir Launcelot, andcollected all whom he could; and many good knights held with him, both for his sake and for the queen's sake. But King Arthur's hostwas too great for Sir Launcelot to abide him in the field; and hewas full loath to do battle against the king. So Sir Launcelotdrew him to his strong castle, with all manner of provisions. Thencame King Arthur with Sir Gawain, and laid siege all about LaJoyeuse Garde, both the town and the castle; but in no wise wouldSir Launcelot ride out of his castle, neither suffer any of hisknights to issue out, until many weeks were past. 

Then it befell upon a day in harvest-time, Sir Launcelot lookedover the wall, and spoke aloud to King Arthur and Sir Gawain, "Mylords both, all is in vain that ye do at this siege, for here yeshall win no worship, but only dishonor; for if I list to comeout, and my good knights, I shall soon make an end of this war. ""Come forth, " said Arthur, "if thou darest, and I promise thee Ishall meet thee in the midst of the field. " "God forbid me, " saidSir Launcelot, "that I should encounter with the most noble kingthat made me knight. " "Fie upon thy fair language, " said the king, "for know thou well I am thy mortal foe, and ever will be to mydying day. " And Sir Gawain said, "What cause hadst thou to slay mybrother, Sir Gaheris, who bore no arms against thee, and SirGareth, whom thou madest knight, and who loved thee more than allmy kin? Therefore know thou well I shall make war to thee all thewhile that I may live. "

When Sir Bohort, and Sir Hector de Marys, and Sir Lionel heardthis outcry, they called to them Sir Palamedes, and Sir Saffirehis brother, and Sir Lawayn, with many more, and all went to SirLauncelot. And they said, "My lord, Sir Launcelot, we pray you, ifyou will have our service keep us no longer within these walls, for know well all your fair speech and forbearance will not availyou. " "Alas!" said Sir Launcelot, "to ride forth and to do battleI am full loath. " Then he spake again unto the king and SirGawain, and willed them to keep out of the battle; but theydespised his words. So then Sir Launcelot's fellowship came out ofthe castle in full good array. And always Sir Launcelot chargedall his knights, in any wise, to save King Arthur and Sir Gawain. 

Then came forth Sir Gawain from the king's host and offeredcombat, and Sir Lionel encountered with him, and there Sir Gawainsmote Sir Lionel through the body, that he fell to the earth as ifdead. Then there began a great conflict, and much people wereslain; but ever Sir Launcelot did what he might to save the peopleon King Arthur's party, and ever King Arthur followed SirLauncelot to slay him; but Sir Launcelot suffered him, and wouldnot strike again. Then Sir Bohort encountered with King Arthur, and smote him down; and he alighted and drew his sword, and saidto Sir Launcelot, "Shall I make an end of this war?" for he meantto have slain King Arthur. "Not so, " said Sir Launcelot, "touchhim no more, for I will never see that most noble king that mademe knight either slain or shamed;" and therewith Sir Launcelotalighted off his horse, and took up the king, and horsed himagain, and said thus: "My lord Arthur, for God's love, cease thisstrife. " And King Arthur looked upon Sir Launcelot, and the tearsburst from his eyes, thinking on the great courtesy that was inSir Launcelot more than in any other man; and therewith the kingrode his way. Then anon both parties withdrew to repose them, andburied the dead. 

But the war continued, and it was noised abroad through allChristendom, and at last it was told afore the pope; and he, considering the great goodness of King Arthur, and of SirLauncelot, called unto him a noble clerk, which was the Bishop ofRochester, who was then in his dominions, and sent him to KingArthur, charging him that he take his queen, dame Guenever, untohim again, and make peace with Sir Launcelot. 

So, by means of this bishop, peace was made for the space of oneyear; and King Arthur received back the queen, and Sir Launcelotdeparted from the kingdom with all his knights, and went to hisown country. So they shipped at Cardiff, and sailed unto Benwick, which some men call Bayonne. And all the people of those landscame to Sir Launcelot, and received him home right joyfully. AndSir Launcelot stablished and garnished all his towns and castles, and he greatly advanced all his noble knights, Sir Lionel and SirBohort, and Sir Hector de Marys, Sir Blamor, Sir Lawayne, and manyothers, and made them lords of lands and castles; till he lefthimself no more than any one of them. 

 "Then Arthur made vast banquets, and strange knights From the four winds came in: and each one sat, Tho' served with choice from air, land, stream and sea, Oft in mid-banquet measuring with his eyes His neighbor's make and might. "

 --Pelleas and Ettarre. 

But when the year was passed, King Arthur and Sir Gawain came witha great host, and landed upon Sir Launcelot's lands, and burnedand wasted all that they might overrun. Then spake Sir Bohort andsaid, "My lord, Sir Launcelot, give us leave to meet them in thefield, and we shall make them rue the time that ever they came tothis country. " Then said Sir Launcelot, "I am full loath to rideout with my knights for shedding of Christian blood; so we willyet a while keep our walls, and I will send a messenger unto mylord Arthur, to propose a treaty; for better is peace than alwayswar. " So Sir Launcelot sent forth a damsel, and a dwarf with her, requiring King Arthur to leave his warring upon his lands; and soshe started on a palfrey, and the dwarf ran by her side. And whenshe came to the pavilion of King Arthur, she alighted, and theremet her a gentle knight, Sir Lucan, the butler, and said, "Fairdamsel, come ye from Sir Launcelot du Lac?" "Yea, sir, " she said, "I come hither to speak with the king. " "Alas!" said Sir Lucan, "my lord Arthur would be reconciled to Sir Launcelot, but SirGawain will not suffer him. " And with this Sir Lucan led thedamsel to the king, where he sat with Sir Gawain, to hear what shewould say. So when she had told her tale, the tears ran out of theking's eyes; and all the lords were forward to advise the king tobe accorded with Sir Launcelot, save only Sir Gawain; and he said, "My lord, mine uncle, what will ye do? Will you now turn back, nowyou are so far advanced upon your journey? If ye do all the worldwill speak shame of you. " "Nay, " said King Arthur, "I will do asye advise me; but do thou give the damsel her answer, for I maynot speak to her for pity. "

Then said Sir Gawain, "Damsel, say ye to Sir Launcelot, that it iswaste labor to sue to mine uncle for peace, and say that I, SirGawain, send him word that I promise him, by the faith I owe untoGod and to knighthood, I shall never leave him till he have slainme or I him. " So the damsel returned; and when Sir Launcelot hadheard this answer the tears ran down his cheeks. 

Then it befell on a day Sir Gawain came before the gates, armed atall points, and cried with a loud voice, "Where art thou now, thoufalse traitor, Sir Launcelot? Why hidest thou thyself within holesand walls like a coward? Look out now, thou traitor knight, and Iwill avenge upon thy body the death of my three brethren. " Allthis language heard Sir Launcelot, and the knights which wereabout him; and they said to him, "Sir Launcelot, now must yedefend you like a knight, or else be shamed for ever, for you haveslept overlong and suffered overmuch. " Then Sir Launcelot spake onhigh unto King Arthur, and said, "My lord Arthur, now I haveforborne long, and suffered you and Sir Gawain to do what yewould, and now must I needs defend myself, inasmuch as Sir Gawainhath appealed me of treason. " Then Sir Launcelot armed him andmounted upon his horse, and the noble knights came out of thecity, and the host without stood all apart; and so the covenantwas made that no man should come near the two knights, nor dealwith them, till one were dead or yielded. 

Then Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawain departed a great way asunder, and then they came together with all their horses' might, and eachsmote the other in the middle of their shields, but neither ofthem was unhorsed, but their horses fell to the earth. And thenthey leapt from their horses, and drew their swords, and gave manysad strokes, so that the blood burst out in many places. Now SirGawain had this gift from a holy man, that every day in the year, from morning to noon, his strength was increased threefold, andthen it fell again to its natural measure. Sir Launcelot was awareof this, and therefore, during the three hours that Sir Gawain'sstrength was at the height, Sir Launcelot covered himself with hisshield, and kept his might in reserve. And during that time SirGawain gave him many sad brunts, that all the knights that lookedon marvelled how Sir Launcelot might endure them. Then, when itwas past noon, Sir Gawain had only his own might; and when SirLauncelot felt him so brought down he stretched himself up, anddoubled his strokes, and gave Sir Gawain such a buffet that hefell down on his side; and Sir Launcelot drew back and wouldstrike no more. "Why withdrawest thou, false traitor?" then saidSir Gawain; "now turn again and slay me, for if thou leave me thuswhen I am whole again, I shall do battle with thee again. " "Ishall endure you, sir, by God's grace, " said Sir Launcelot, "butknow thou well Sir Gawain, I will never smite a felled knight. "And so Sir Launcelot went into the city, and Sir Gawain was borneinto King Arthur's pavilion, and his wounds were looked to. 

Thus the siege endured, and Sir Gawain lay helpless near a month;and when he was near recovered came tidings unto King Arthur thatmade him return with all his host to England. 

CHAPTER XXIII

MORTE D'ARTHUR

Sir Modred was left ruler of all England, and he caused letters tobe written, as if from beyond sea, that King Arthur was slain inbattle. So he called a Parliament, and made himself be crownedking; and he took the queen Guenever, and said plainly that hewould wed her, but she escaped from him and took refuge in theTower of London. And Sir Modred went and laid siege about theTower of London, and made great assaults thereat, but all mightnot avail him. Then came word to Sir Modred that King Arthur hadraised the siege of Sir Launcelot, and was coming home. Then SirModred summoned all the barony of the land; and much people drewunto Sir Modred, and said they would abide with him for better andfor worse; and he drew a great host to Dover, for there he heardsay that King Arthur would arrive. 

 "I hear the steps of Modred in the west, And with him many of thy people, and knights Once thine, whom thou hast loved, but grosser grown Than heathen, spitting at their vows and thee"

 --The Passing of Arthur. 

And as Sir Modred was at Dover with his host, came King Arthur, with a great number of ships and galleys, and there was Sir Modredawaiting upon the landing. Then was there launching of great boatsand small, full of noble men of arms, and there was much slaughterof gentle knights on both parts. But King Arthur was socourageous, there might no manner of knights prevent him to land, and his knights fiercely followed him; and so they landed, and putSir Modred aback so that he fled, and all his people. And when thebattle was done, King Arthur commanded to bury his people thatwere dead. And then was noble Sir Gawain found, in a great boat, lying more than half dead. And King Arthur went to him, and madesorrow out of measure. "Mine uncle, " said Sir Gawain, "know thouwell my death-day is come, and all is through mine own hastinessand wilfulness, for I am smitten upon the old wound which SirLauncelot gave me, of which I feel I must die. And had SirLauncelot been with you as of old, this war had never begun, andof all this I am the cause. " Then Sir Gawain prayed the king tosend for Sir Launcelot, and to cherish him above all otherknights. And so at the hour of noon Sir Gawain yielded up hisspirit, and then the king bade inter him in a chapel within DoverCastle; and there all men may see the skull of him, and the samewound is seen that Sir Launcelot gave him in battle. 

Then was it told the king that Sir Modred had pitched his campupon Barrendown; and the king rode thither, and there was a greatbattle betwixt them, and King Arthur's party stood best, and SirModred and his party fled unto Canterbury. 

And there was a day assigned betwixt King Arthur and Sir Modredthat they should meet upon a down beside Salisbury, and not farfrom the sea-side, to do battle yet again. And at night, as theking slept, he dreamed a wonderful dream. It seemed him verilythat there came Sir Gawain unto him, with a number of fair ladieswith him. And when King Arthur saw him, he said, "Welcome, mysister's son; I weened thou hadst been dead; and now I see theealive great is my joy. But, O fair nephew, what be these ladiesthat hither be come with you?" "Sir, " said Sir Gawain, "all thesebe ladies for whom I have fought when I was a living man; andbecause I did battle for them in righteous quarrel they have givenme grace to bring me hither unto you to warn you of your death, ifye fight to-morrow with Sir Modred. Therefore take ye treaty, andproffer you largely for a month's delay; for within a month shallcome Sir Launcelot and all his noble knights, and rescue youworshipfully, and slay Sir Modred and all that hold with him. " Andthen Sir Gawain and all the ladies vanished. And anon the kingcalled to fetch his noble lords and wise bishops unto him. Andwhen they were come, the king told them his vision, and what SirGawain had told him. Then the king sent Sir Lucan, the butler, andSir Bedivere, with two bishops, and charged them in any wise totake a treaty for a month and a day with Sir Modred. So theydeparted, and came to Sir Modred; and so, at the last, Sir Modredwas agreed to have Cornwall and Kent during Arthur's life, and allEngland after his death. 

 "Sir Modred; he the nearest to the king, His nephew, ever like a subtle beast Lay couchant with his eyes upon the throne, Ready to spring, waiting a chance. "

 --Guinevere

Then was it agreed that King Arthur and Sir Modred should meetbetwixt both their hosts, and each of them should bring fourteenpersons, and then and there they should sign the treaty. And whenKing Arthur and his knights were prepared to go forth, he warnedall his host, "If so be ye see any sword drawn, look ye come onfiercely, and slay whomsoever withstandeth, for I in no wise trustthat traitor, Sir Modred. " In like wise Sir Modred warned hishost. So they met, and were agreed and accorded thoroughly. Andwine was brought, and they drank. Right then came an adder out ofa little heath-bush, and stung a knight on the foot. And when theknight felt him sting, he looked down and saw the adder, and thenhe drew his sword to slay the adder, and thought of no other harm. And when the host on both sides saw that sword drawn, they blewtrumpets and horns, and shouted greatly. And King Arthur took hishorse, and rode to his party, saying, "Alas, this unhappy day!"And Sir Modred did in like wise. And never was there a moredoleful battle in Christian land. And ever King Arthur rodethroughout the battle, and did full nobly, as a worthy kingshould, and Sir Modred that day did his devoir, and put himself ingreat peril. And thus they fought all the long day, till the mostof all the noble knights lay dead upon the ground. Then the kinglooked about him, and saw of all his host were left alive but twoknights, Sir Lucan, the butler, and Sir Bedivere, his brother, andthey were full sore wounded. Then King Arthur saw where Sir Modredleaned upon his sword among a great heap of dead men. "Now give memy spear, " said Arthur unto Sir Lucan; "for yonder I espy thetraitor that hast wrought all this woe. " "Sir, let him be, " saidSir Lucan; "for if ye pass this unhappy day, ye shall be rightwell revenged upon him. Remember what the sprite of Sir Gawaintold you, and leave off now, for ye have won the field; and if yeleave off now this evil day of destiny is past. " "Betide me life, betide me death, " said King Arthur, "he shall not now escape myhands. " Then the king took his spear in both hands, and ran towardSir Modred, crying, "Traitor, now is thy death-day come. " Andthere King Arthur smote Sir Modred under the shield, with a thrustof his spear through the body. And when Sir Modred felt that hehad his death-wound, with the might that he had he smote KingArthur, with his sword holden in both his hands, on the side ofthe head, that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain-pan; andthen Sir Modred fell stark dead upon the earth. And the nobleArthur fell in a swoon to the earth. And Sir Lucan, the butler, and Sir Bedivere raised him up, and gently led him betwixt themboth to a little chapel not far from the sea-side. And when theking was there he thought him well eased. Then heard they peoplecry in the field. And Sir Lucan went to see what that crybetokened; and he saw by the moonlight that pillers and robberswere come to rob the dead. And he returned, and said to the king, "By my rede, it is best that we bring you to some town. " "I wouldit were so, " said the king. And when the king tried to go hefainted. Then Sir Lucan took up the king on the one part, and SirBedivere on the other part; and in the lifting, Sir Lucan fell ina swoon to the earth, for he was grievously wounded. And then thenoble knight's heart burst. And when the king awoke he beheld SirLucan how he lay foaming at the mouth, and speechless. "Alas!"said the king, "this is to me a full heavy sight, to see thisnoble duke so die for my sake; for he would have holpen me thathad more need of help than I, and he would not complain, his heartwas so set to help me. " Then Sir Bedivere wept for his brother. "Leave this mourning and weeping, " said the king, "for wilt thouwell, if I might live myself, the death of Sir Lucan would grieveme evermore; but my time hieth fast. Therefore, " said Arthur untoSir Bedivere, "take thou Excalibar, my good sword, and go with itto yonder water-side; and when thou comest there I charge theethrow my sword in that water, and come again and tell me what thouthere seest. " "My lord, " said Sir Bedivere, "your commandmentshall be done. " So Sir Bedivere departed, and by the way he beheldthat noble sword, that the pommel and the haft were all ofprecious stones; and then he said to himself, "If I throw thisrich sword into the water no good shall come thereof, but onlyharm and loss. " And then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibar under a tree. And so, as soon as he might, he came again to the king. "Whatsawest thou there?" said the king. "Sir, " he said, "I sawnothing. " "Alas! thou hast deceived me, " said the king. "Go thoulightly again, and as thou love me, spare not to throw it in. "Then Sir Bedivere went again, and took the sword in his hand tothrow it; but again it beseemed him but sin and shame to throwaway that noble sword, and he hid it away again, and returned, andtold the king he had done his commandment. "What sawest thouthere?" said the king. "Sir, " he said, "I saw nothing but watersdeep and waves wan. " "Ah, traitor untrue!" said King Arthur, "nowhast thou betrayed me twice. And yet thou art named a nobleknight, and hast been lief and dear to me. But now go again, anddo as I bid thee, for thy long tarrying putteth me in jeopardy ofmy life. " Then Sir Bedivere went to the sword, and lightly took itup, and went to the water-side, and he bound the girdle about thehilt, and then he threw the sword as far into the water as hemight. And there came an arm and a hand out of the water, and metit, and caught it, and shook it thrice and brandished it, and thenvanished away the hand with the sword in the water. 

Then Sir Bedivere came again to the king, and told him what hesaw. "Help me hence, " said the king, "for I fear I have tarriedtoo long. " Then Sir Bedivere took the king on his back, and sowent with him to that water-side; and when they came there, evenfast by the bank there rode a little barge with many fair ladiesin it, and among them was a queen; and all had black hoods, andthey wept and shrieked when they saw King Arthur. 

"Now put me in the barge, " said the king. And there received himthree queens with great mourning, and in one of their laps KingArthur laid his head. And the queen said, "Ah, dear brother, whyhave ye tarried so long? Alas! this wound on your head hath caughtover-much cold. " And then they rowed from the land, and SirBedivere beheld them go from him. Then he cried: "Ah, my lordArthur, will ye leave me here alone among mine enemies?" "Comfortthyself, " said the king, "for in me is no further help; for I willto the Isle of Avalon, to heal me of my grievous wound. " And assoon as Sir Bedivere had lost sight of the barge, he wept andwailed; then he took the forest, and went all that night, and inthe morning he was ware of a chapel and a hermitage. 

Then went Sir Bedivere thither; and when he came into the chapel, he saw where lay an hermit on the ground, near a tomb that wasnewly graven. "Sir, " said Sir Bedivere, "what man is there buriedthat ye pray so near unto?" "Fair son, " said the hermit, "I knownot verily. But this night there came a number of ladies, andbrought hither one dead, and prayed me to bury him. " "Alas!" saidSir Bedivere, "that was my lord, King Arthur. " Then Sir Bedivereswooned; and when he awoke he prayed the hermit he might abidewith him, to live with fasting and prayers. "Ye are welcome, " saidthe hermit. So there bode Sir Bedivere with the hermit; and he puton poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting andin prayers. 

Thus of Arthur I find never more written in books that beauthorized, nor more of the very certainty of his death; but thuswas he led away in a ship, wherein were three queens; the one wasKing Arthur's sister, Queen Morgane le Fay; the other was Viviane, the Lady of the Lake; and the third was the queen of North Galis. And this tale Sir Bedivere, knight of the Table Round, made to bewritten. 

Yet some men say that King Arthur is not dead, but hid away intoanother place, and men say that he shall come again and reign overEngland. But many say that there is written on his tomb thisverse:

 "Hie facet Arthurus, Rex quondam, Rexque futurus. " Here Arthur lies, King once and King to be. 

And when Queen Guenever understood that King Arthur was slain, andall the noble knights with him, she stole away, and five ladieswith her; and so she went to Almesbury, and made herself a nun, and ware white clothes and black, and took great penance as everdid sinful lady, and lived in fasting, prayers, and alms-deeds. And there she was abbess and ruler of the nuns. 

 "And when she came to Almesbury she spake There to the nuns, and said, 'Mine enemies Pursue me, but, O peaceful Sisterhood, Receive, and yield me sanctuary, nor ask Her name to whom ye yield it, till her time To tell you;' and her beauty, grace and power Wrought as a charm upon them, and they spared To ask it. "

 --Guinevere. 

Now turn we from her, and speak of Sir Launcelot of the Lake. 

When Sir Launcelot heard in his country that Sir Modred wascrowned king of England, and made war against his own uncle, KingArthur, then was Sir Launcelot wroth out of measure, and said tohis kinsmen: "Alas, that double traitor, Sir Modred! now itrepenteth me that ever he escaped out of my hands. " Then SirLauncelot and his fellows made ready in all haste, with ships andgalleys, to pass into England; and so he passed over till he cameto Dover, and there he landed with a great army. Then SirLauncelot was told that King Arthur was slain. "Alas!" said SirLauncelot, "this is the heaviest tidings that ever came to me. "Then he called the kings, dukes, barons, and knights, and saidthus: "My fair lords, I thank you all for coming into this countrywith me, but we came too late, and that shall repent me while Ilive. But since it is so, " said Sir Launcelot, "I will myself rideand seek my lady, Queen Guenever, for I have heard say she hathfled into the west; therefore ye shall abide me here fifteen days, and if I come not within that time, then take your ships and yourhost, and depart into your country. "

So Sir Launcelot departed and rode westerly, and there he soughtmany days; and at last he came to a nunnery, and was seen of QueenGuenever as he walked in the cloister; and when she saw him sheswooned away. And when she might speak she bade him to be calledto her. And when Sir Launcelot was brought to her she said: "SirLauncelot, I require thee and beseech thee, for all the love thatever was betwixt us, that thou never see me more, but return tothy kingdom and take thee a wife, and live with her with joy andbliss; and pray for me to my Lord, that I may get my soul'shealth. " "Nay, madam, " said Sir Launcelot, "wit you well that Ishall never do; but the same destiny that ye have taken you towill I take me unto, for to please and serve God. " And so theyparted, with tears and much lamentation; and the ladies bare thequeen to her chamber, and Sir Launcelot took his horse and rodeaway, weeping. 

And at last Sir Launcelot was ware of a hermitage and a chapel, and then he heard a little bell ring to mass; and thither he rodeand alighted, and tied his horse to the gate, and heard mass. Andhe that sang the mass was the hermit with whom Sir Bedivere hadtaken up his abode; and Sir Bedivere knew Sir Launcelot, and theyspake together after mass. But when Sir Bedivere had told histale, Sir Launcelot's heart almost burst for sorrow. Then hekneeled down, and prayed the hermit to shrive him, and besoughtthat he might be his brother. Then the hermit said, "I willgladly;" and then he put a habit upon Sir Launcelot, and there heserved God day and night, with prayers and fastings. 

And the great host abode at Dover till the end of the fifteen daysset by Sir Launcelot, and then Sir Bohort made them to go homeagain to their own country; and Sir Bohort, Sir Hector de Marys, Sir Blamor, and many others, took on them to ride through allEngland to seek Sir Launcelot. So Sir Bohort by fortune rode untilhe came to the same chapel where Sir Launcelot was; and when hesaw Sir Launcelot in that manner of clothing he, prayed the hermitthat he might be in that same. And so there was an habit put uponhim, and there he lived in prayers and fasting. And within half ayear came others of the knights, their fellows, and took such ahabit as Sir Launcelot and Sir Bohort had. Thus they endured ingreat penance six years. 

And upon a night there came a vision to Sir Launcelot, and chargedhim to haste toward Almesbury, and "by the time thou come there, thou shalt find Queen Guenever dead. " Then Sir Launcelot rose upearly and told the hermit thereof. Then said the hermit, "It werewell that ye disobey not this vision. " And Sir Launcelot took hisseven companions with him, and on foot they went from Glastonburyto Almesbury, which is more than thirty miles. And when they werecome to Almesbury, they found that Queen Guenever died but half anhour before. Then Sir Launcelot saw her visage, but he wept notgreatly, but sighed. And so he did all the observance of theservice himself, both the "dirige" at night, and at morn he sangmass. And there was prepared an horse-bier, and Sir Launcelot andhis fellows followed the bier on foot from Almesbury until theycame to Glastonbury; and she was wrapped in cered clothes, andlaid in a coffin of marble. And when she was put in the earth SirLauncelot swooned, and lay long as one dead. 

And Sir Launcelot never after ate but little meat, nor drank; butcontinually mourned. And within six weeks Sir Launcelot fell sick;and he sent for the hermit and all his true fellows, and said, "Sir hermit, I pray you give me all my rights that a Christian manought to have. " "It shall not need, " said the hermit and all hisfellows; "it is but heaviness of your blood, and to-morrow mornyou shall be well" "My fair lords, " said Sir Launcelot, "mycareful body will into the earth; I have warning more than now Iwill say; therefore give me my rights. " So when he was houseledand aneled, and had all that a Christian man ought to have, heprayed the hermit that his fellows might bear his body to JoyousGarde. (Some men say it was Alnwick, and some say it wasBamborough. ) "It repenteth me sore, " said Sir Launcelot, "but Imade a vow aforetime that in Joyous Garde I would be buried. " Thenthere was weeping and wringing of hands among his fellows. Andthat night Sir Launcelot died; and when Sir Bohort and his fellowscame to his bedside the next morning they found him stark dead;and he lay as if he had smiled, and the sweetest savor all abouthim that ever they knew. 

And they put Sir Launcelot into the same horse-bier that QueenGuenever was laid in, and the hermit and they altogether went withthe body till they came to Joyous Garde. And there they laid hiscorpse in the body of the quire, and sang and read many psalms andprayers over him. And ever his visage was laid open and naked, that all folks might behold him. And right thus, as they were attheir service, there came Sir Hector de Maris, that had sevenyears sought Sir Launcelot, his brother, through all England, Scotland and Wales. And when Sir Hector heard such sounds in thechapel of Joyous Garde he alighted and came into the quire. Andall they knew Sir Hector. Then went Sir Bohort, and told him howthere lay Sir Launcelot, his brother, dead. Then Sir Hector threwhis shield, his sword, and helm from him. And when he beheld SirLauncelot's visage it were hard for any tongue to tell the dolefulcomplaints he made for his brother. "Ah, Sir Launcelot!" he said, "there thou liest. And now I dare to say thou wert never matchedof none earthly knight's hand. And thou wert the courteousestknight that ever bare shield; and thou wert the truest friend tothy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou wert the truestlover, of a sinful man, that ever loved woman; and thou wert thekindest man that ever struck with sword. And thou wert thegoodliest person that ever came among press of knights. And thouwert the meekest man, and the gentlest, that ever ate in hallamong ladies. And thou wert the sternest knight to thy mortal foethat ever put spear in the rest. " Then there was weeping and dolorout of measure. Thus they kept Sir Launcelot's corpse fifteendays, and then they buried it with great devotion. 

Then they went back with the hermit to his hermitage. And SirBedivere was there ever still hermit to his life's end. And SirBohort, Sir Hector, Sir Blamor, and Sir Bleoberis went into theHoly Land. And these four knights did many battles upon themiscreants, the Turks; and there they died upon a Good Friday, asit pleased God. 

Thus endeth this noble and joyous book, entitled "La Morted'Arthur;" notwithstanding it treateth of the birth, life, andacts of the said King Arthur, and of his noble Knights of theRound Table, their marvellous enquests and adventures, theachieving of the Sangreal, and, in the end, le Morte d'Arthur, with the dolorous death and departing out of this world of themall. Which book was reduced into English by Sir Thomas Mallory, Knight, and divided into twenty-one books, chaptered and imprintedand finished in the Abbey Westmestre, the last day of July, theyear of our Lord MCCCCLXXXV. 

Caxton me fieri fecit. 

THE MABINOGEON

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

It has been well known to the literati and antiquarians of Europethat there exist in the great public libraries voluminousmanuscripts of romances and tales once popular, but which on theinvention of printing had already become antiquated, and falleninto neglect. They were therefore never printed, and seldomperused even by the learned, until about half a century ago, whenattention was again directed to them, and they were found verycurious monuments of ancient manners, habits, and modes ofthinking. Several have since been edited, some by individuals, asSir Walter Scott and the poet Southey, others by antiquariansocieties. The class of readers which could be counted on for suchpublications was so small that no inducement of profit could befound to tempt editors and publishers to give them to the world. It was therefore only a few, and those the most accessible, whichwere put in print. There was a class of manuscripts of this kindwhich were known, or rather suspected, to be both curious andvaluable, but which it seemed almost hopeless to expect ever tosee in fair printed English. These were the Welsh popular talescalled Mabinogeon, a plural word, the singular being Mabinogi, atale. Manuscripts of these were contained in the Bodleian Libraryat Oxford and elsewhere, but the difficulty was to findtranslators and editors. The Welsh is a spoken language among thepeasantry of Wales, but is entirely neglected by the learned, unless they are natives of the principality. Of the few Welshscholars none were found who took sufficient interest in thisbranch of learning to give these productions to the Englishpublic. Southey and Scott, and others, who like them, loved theold romantic legends of their country, often urged upon the Welshliterati the duty of reproducing the Mabinogeon. Southey, in thepreface of his edition of "Moted'Arthur, " says: "The specimenswhich I have seen are exceedingly curious; nor is there a greaterdesideratum in British literature than an edition of these tales, with a literal version, and such comments as Mr. Davies of all menis best qualified to give. Certain it is that many of the roundtable fictions originated in Wales, or in Bretagne, and probablymight still be traced there. "

Again, in a letter to Sir Charles W. W. Wynn, dated 1819, he says:

"I begin almost to despair of ever seeing more of the Mabinogeon;and yet if some competent Welshman could be found to edit itcarefully, with as literal a version as possible, I am sure itmight be made worth his while by a subscription, printing a smalledition at a high price, perhaps two hundred at five guineas. Imyself would gladly subscribe at that price per volume for such anedition of the whole of your genuine remains in prose and verse. Till some such collection is made, the 'gentlemen of Wales' oughtto be prohibited from wearing a leek; ay, and interdicted fromtoasted cheese also. Your bards would have met with better usageif they had been Scotchmen. "

Sharon Turner and Sir Walter Scott also expressed a similar wishfor the publication of the Welsh manuscripts. The former took partin an attempt to effect it, through the instrumentality of a Mr. Owen, a Welshman, but, we judge, by what Southey says of him, imperfectly acquainted with English. Southey's language is"William Owen lent me three parts of the Mabinogeon, delightfullytranslated into so Welsh an idiom and syntax that such atranslation is as instructive as an original. " In another letterhe adds, "Let Sharon make his language grammatical, but not altertheir idiom in the slightest point. "

It is probable Mr. Owen did not proceed far in an undertakingwhich, so executed, could expect but little popular patronage. Itwas not till an individual should appear possessed of therequisite knowledge of the two languages, of enthusiasm sufficientfor the task, and of pecuniary resources sufficient to beindependent of the booksellers and of the reading public, thatsuch a work could be confidently expected. Such an individual has, since Southey's day and Scott's, appeared in the person of LadyCharlotte Guest, an English lady united to a gentleman of propertyin Wales, who, having acquired the language of the principality, and become enthusiastically fond of its literary treasures, hasgiven them to the English reader, in a dress which the printer'sand the engraver's arts have done their best to adorn. In fourroyal octavo volumes containing the Welsh originals, thetranslation, and ample illustrations from French, German, andother contemporary and affiliated literature, the Mabinogeon isspread before us. To the antiquarian and the student of languageand ethnology an invaluable treasure, it yet can hardly in such aform win its way to popular acquaintance. We claim no other meritthan that of bringing it to the knowledge of our readers, ofabridging its details, of selecting its most attractive portions, and of faithfully preserving throughout the style in which LadyGuest has clothed her legends. For this service we hope that ourreaders will confess we have laid them under no light obligation. 

CHAPTER I

THE BRITONS

The earliest inhabitants of Britain are supposed to have been abranch of that great family known in history by the designation ofCelts. Cambria, which is a frequent name for Wales, is thought tobe derived from Cymri, the name which the Welsh traditions applyto an immigrant people who entered the island from the adjacentcontinent. This name is thought to be identical with those ofCimmerians and Cimbri, under which the Greek and Roman historiansdescribe a barbarous people, who spread themselves from the northof the Euxine over the whole of Northwestern Europe. 

The origin of the names Wales and Welsh has been much canvassed. Some writers make them a derivation from Gael or Gaul, which namesare said to signify "woodlanders;" others observe that Walsh, inthe northern languages, signifies a stranger, and that theaboriginal Britons were so called by those who at a later erainvaded the island and possessed the greater part of it, theSaxons and Angles. 

The Romans held Britain from the invasion of Julius Caesar tilltheir voluntary withdrawal from the island, A. D. 420, --that is, about five hundred years. In that time there must have been a widediffusion of their arts and institutions among the natives. Theremains of roads, cities, and fortifications show that they didmuch to develop and improve the country, while those of theirvillas and castles prove that many of the settlers possessedwealth and taste for the ornamental arts. Yet the Roman sway wassustained chiefly by force, and never extended over the entireisland. The northern portion, now Scotland, remained independent, and the western portion, constituting Wales and Cornwall, was onlynominally subjected. 

Neither did the later invading hordes succeed in subduing theremoter sections of the island. For ages after the arrival of theSaxons under Hengist and Horsa, A. D. 449, the whole western coastof Britain was possessed by the aboriginal inhabitants, engaged inconstant warfare with the invaders. 

It has, therefore, been a favorite boast of the people of Walesand Cornwall that the original British stock flourishes in itsunmixed purity only among them. We see this notion flashing out inpoetry occasionally, as when Gray, in "The Bard, " propheticallydescribing Queen Elizabeth, who was of the Tudor, a Welsh race, says:

 "Her eye proclaims her of the Briton line;"

and, contrasting the princes of the Tudor with those of the Normanrace, he exclaims:

 "All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!"

THE WELSH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE

The Welsh language is one of the oldest in Europe. It possessespoems the origin of which is referred with probability to thesixth century. The language of some of these is so antiquated thatthe best scholars differ about the interpretation of manypassages; but, generally speaking, the body of poetry which theWelsh possess, from the year 1000 downwards, is intelligible tothose who are acquainted with the modern language. 

Till within the last half-century these compositions remainedburied in the libraries of colleges or of individuals, and sodifficult of access that no successful attempt was made to givethem to the world. This reproach was removed after ineffectualappeals to the patriotism of the gentry of Wales, by Owen Jones, afurrier of London, who at his own expense collected and publishedthe chief productions of Welsh literature, under the title of theMyvyrian Archaeology of Wales. In this task he was assisted by Dr. Owen and other Welsh scholars. 

After the cessation of Jones' exertions the old apathy returned, and continued till within a few years. Dr. Owen exerted himself toobtain support for the publication of the Mabinogeon or ProseTales of the Welsh, but died without accomplishing his purpose, which has since been carried into execution by Lady CharlotteGuest. The legends which fill the remainder of this volume aretaken from this work, of which we have already spoken more fullyin the introductory chapter to the First Part. 

THE WELSH BARDS

The authors to whom the oldest Welsh poems are attributed areAneurin, who is supposed to have lived A. D. 500 to 550, andTaliesin, Llywarch Hen (Llywarch the Aged), and Myrddin or Merlin, who were a few years later. The authenticity of the poems whichbear their names has been assailed, and it is still an openquestion how many and which of them are authentic, though it ishardly to be doubted that some are so. The poem of Aneurinentitled the "Gododin" bears very strong marks of authenticity. Aneurin was one of the Northern Britons of Strath-Clyde, who haveleft to that part of the district they inhabited the name ofCumberland, or Land of the Cymri. In this poem he laments thedefeat of his countrymen by the Saxons at the battle of Cattraeth, in consequence of having partaken too freely of the mead beforejoining in combat. The bard himself and two of his fellow-warriorswere all who escaped from the field. A portion of this poem hasbeen translated by Gray, of which the following is an extract:

 "To Cattraeth's vale, in glittering row, Twice two hundred warriors go; Every warrior's manly neck Chains of regal honor deck, Wreathed in many a golden link; From the golden cup they drink Nectar that the bees produce, Or the grape's exalted juice. Flushed with mirth and hope they burn, But none to Cattraeth's vale return, Save Aeron brave, and Conan strong, Bursting through the bloody throng, And I, the meanest of them all, That live to weep, and sing their fall. "

The works of Taliesin are of much more questionable authenticity. There is a story of the adventures of Taliesin so strongly markedwith mythical traits as to cast suspicion on the writingsattributed to him. This story will be found in the subsequentpages. 

THE TRIADS

The Triads are a peculiar species of poetical composition, ofwhich the Welsh bards have left numerous examples. They areenumerations of a triad of persons, or events, or observations, strung together in one short sentence. This form of composition, originally invented, in all likelihood, to assist the memory, hasbeen raised by the Welsh to a degree of elegance of which ithardly at first sight appears susceptible. The Triads are of allages, some of them probably as old as anything in the language. Short as they are individually, the collection in the MyvyrianArchaeology occupies more than one hundred and seventy pages ofdouble columns. We will give some specimens, beginning withpersonal triads, and giving the first place to one of KingArthur's own composition:

 "I have three heroes in battle: Mael the tall, and Llyr, with his army, And Caradoc, the pillar of Wales. "

"The three principal bards of the island of Britain:-- Merlin Ambrose Merlin the son of Mprfyn, called also Merlin the Wild, And Taliesin, the chief of the bards. "

"The three golden-tongued knights of the court of Arthur:-- Gawain, son of Gwyar, Drydvas, son of Tryphin, And Ehwlod, son of Madag, ap Uther. "

"The three honorable feasts of the island of Britain:--The feast of Caswallaun, after repelling Julius Caesar from this isle;The feast of Aurelius Ambrosius, after he had conquered the Saxons;And the feast of King Arthur, at Carleon upon Usk. "

 "Guenever, the daughter of Laodegan the giant, Bad when little, worse when great. "

Next follow some moral triads:

 "Hast thou heard what Dremhidydd sung, An ancient watchman on the castle walls? A refusal is better than a promise unperformed. "

 "Hast thou heard what Llenleawg sung, The noble chief wearing the golden torques? The grave is better than a life of want. "

 "Hast thou heard what Garselit sung, The Irishman whom it is safe to follow? Sin is bad, if long pursued. "

 "Hast thou heard what Avaon sung, The son of Taliesin, of the recording verse? The cheek will not conceal the anguish of the heart. "

 "Didst thou hear what Llywarch sung, The intrepid and brave old man? Greet kindly, though there be no acquaintance. "

CHAPTER II

THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN

KYNON'S ADVENTURE

King Arthur was at Caerleon upon Usk; and one day he sat in hischamber, and with him were Owain, the son of Urien, and Kynon, theson of Clydno, and Kay, the son of Kyner, and Guenever and herhandmaidens at needlework by the window. In the centre of thechamher King Arthur sat, upon a seat of green rushes, [Footnote:The use of green rushes in apartments was by no means peculiar tothe court of Carleon upon Usk. Our ancestors had a greatpredilection for them, and they seem to have constituted anessential article, not only of comfort, but of luxury. The customof strewing the floor with rushes is well known to have existed inEngland during the Middle Ages, and also in France. ] over whichwas spread a covering of flame-covered satin, and a cushion of redsatin was under his elbow. 

Then Arthur spoke. "If I thought you would not disparage me, " saidhe, "I would sleep while I wait for my repast; and you canentertain one another with relating tales, and can obtain a flagonof mead and some meat from Kay. " And the king went to sleep. AndKynon the son of Clydno asked Kay for that which Arthur hadpromised them. "I too will have the good tale which he promisedme, " said Kay. "Nay, " answered Kynon; "fairer will it be for theeto fulfil Arthur's behest in the first place, and then we willtell thee the best tale that we know. " So Kay went to the kitchenand to the mead-cellar, and returned, bearing a flagon of mead, and a golden goblet, and a handful of skewers, upon which werebroiled collops of meat. Then they ate the collops, and began todrink the mead. "Now, " said Kay, "it is time for you to give me mystory. " "Kynon, " said Owain, "do thou pay to Kay the tale that ishis due. " "I will do so, " answered Kynon. 

"I was the only son of my mother and father, and I was exceedinglyaspiring, and my daring was very great. I thought there was noenterprise in the world too mighty for me: and after I hadachieved all the adventures that were in my own country, Iequipped myself, and set forth to journey through deserts anddistant regions. And at length it chanced that I came to thefairest valley in the world, wherein were trees all of equalgrowth; and a river ran through the valley, and a path was by theside of the river. And I followed the path until midday, andcontinued my journey along the remainder of the valley until theevening; and at the extremity of the plain I came to a large andlustrous castle, at the foot of which was a torrent. And Iapproached the castle, and there I beheld two youths with yellowcurling hair, each with a frontlet of gold upon his head, and cladin a garment of yellow satin; and they had gold clasps upon theirinsteps. In the hand of each of them was an ivory bow, strung withthe sinews of the stag, and their arrows and their shafts were ofthe bone of the whale, and were winged with peacock's feathers. The shafts also had golden heads. And they had daggers with bladesof gold, and with hilts of the bone of the whale. And they wereshooting at a mark. 

"And a little away from them I saw a man in the prime of life, with his beard newly shorn, clad in a robe and mantle of yellowsatin, and round the top of his mantle was a band of gold lace. Onhis feet were shoes of variegated leather, [Footnote: Cordwal isthe word in the original, and from the manner in which it is usedit is evidently intended for the French Cordouan or Cordovanleather, which derived its name from Cordova, where it wasmanufactured. From this comes also our English word cordwainer. ]fastened by two bosses of gold. When I saw him I went towards himand saluted him; and such was his courtesy, that he no soonerreceived my greeting than he returned it. And he went with metowards the castle. Now there were no dwellers in the castle, except those who were in one hall. And there I saw four and twentydamsels, embroidering satin at a window. And this I tell thee, Kay, that the least fair of them was fairer than the fairest maidthou didst ever behold in the island of Britain; and the leastlovely of them was more lovely than Guenever, the wife of Arthur, when she appeared loveliest, at the feast of Easter. They rose upat my coming, and six of them took my horse, and divested me of myarmor, and six others took my arms and washed them in a vesseltill they were perfectly bright. And the third six spread clothsupon the tables and prepared meat. And the fourth six took off mysoiled garments and placed others upon me, namely, an under vestand a doublet of fine linen, and a robe and a surcoat, and amantle of yellow satin, with a broad gold band upon the mantle. And they placed cushions both beneath and around me, withcoverings of red linen, and I sat down. Now the six maidens whohad taken my horse unharnessed him as well as if they had been thebest squires in the island of Britain. 

"Then behold they brought bowls of silver, wherein was water towash and towels of linen, some green and some white; and I washed. And in a little while the man sat down at the table. And I satnext to him, and below me sat all the maidens, except those whowaited on us. And the table was of silver, and the cloths upon thetable were of linen. And no vessel was served upon the table thatwas not either of gold or of silver or of buffalo horn. And ourmeat was brought to us. And verily, Kay, I saw there every sort ofmeat, and every sort of liquor that I ever saw elsewhere; but themeat and the liquor were better served there than I ever saw themin any other place. 

"Until the repast was half over, neither the man nor any one ofthe damsels spoke a single word to me; but when the man perceivedthat it would be more agreeable for me to converse than to eat anymore, he began to inquire of me who I was. Then I told the man whoI was and what was the cause of my journey, and said that I wasseeking whether any one was superior to me, or whether I couldgain mastery over all. The man looked upon me, and he smiled andsaid, 'If I did not fear to do thee a mischief, I would show theethat which thou seekest. ' Then I desired him to speak freely. Andhe said: 'Sleep here to-night, and in the morning arise early, andtake the road upwards through the valley, until thou readiest thewood. A little way within the wood thou wilt come to a largesheltered glade, with a mound in the centre. And thou wilt see ablack man of great stature on the top of the mound. He has but onefoot, and one eye in the middle of his forehead. He is the wood-ward of that wood. And thou wilt see a thousand wild animalsgrazing around him. Inquire of him the way out of the glade, andhe will reply to thee briefly, and will point out the road bywhich thou shalt find that which thou art in quest of. '

"And long seemed that night to me. And the next morning I aroseand equipped myself, and mounted my horse, and proceeded straightthrough the valley to the wood, and at length I arrived at theglade. And the black man was there, sitting upon the top of themound; and I was three times more astonished at the number of wildanimals that I beheld than the man had said I should be. Then Iinquired of him the way and he asked me roughly whither I wouldgo. And when I had told him who I was and what I sought, 'Take, 'said he, 'that path that leads toward the head of the glade, andthere thou wilt find an open space like to a large valley, and inthe midst of it a tall tree. Under this tree is a fountain, and bythe side of the fountain a marble slab, and on the marble slab asilver bowl, attached by a chain of silver, that it may not becarried away. Take, the bowl and throw a bowlful of water on theslab. And if thou dost not find trouble in that adventure, thouneedest not seek it during the rest of thy life. '

"So I journeyed on until I reached the summit of the steep. Andthere I found everything as the black man had described it to me. And I went up to the tree, and beneath it I saw the fountain, andby its side the marble slab, and the silver bowl fastened by thechain. Then I took the bowl, and cast a bowlful of water upon theslab, and immediately I heard a mighty peal of thunder, so thatheaven and earth seemed to tremble with its fury. And after thethunder came a, shower; and of a truth I tell thee, Kay, that itwas such a shower as neither man nor beast could endure and live. I turned my horse's flank toward the shower, and placed the beakof my shield over his head and neck, while I held the upper partof it over my own neck. And thus I withstood the shower. Andpresently the sky became clear, and with that, behold, the birdslighted upon the tree, and sang. And truly, Kay, I never heard anymelody equal to that, either before or since. And when I was mostcharmed with listening to the birds, lo! a chiding voice was heardof one approaching me and saying: 'O knight, what has brought theehither? What evil have I done to thee that thou shouldst acttowards me and my possessions as thou hast this day? Dost thou notknow that the shower to-day has left in my dominions neither mannor beast alive that was exposed to it?' And thereupon, behold, aknight on a black horse appeared, clothed in jet-black velvet, andwith a tabard of black linen about him. And we charged each other, and, as the onset was furious, it was not long before I wasoverthrown. Then the knight passed the shaft of his lance throughthe bridle-rein of my horse, and rode off with the two horses, leaving me where I was. And he did not even bestow so much noticeupon me as to imprison me, nor did he despoil me of my arms. So Ireturned along the road by which I had come. And when I reachedthe glade where the black man was, I confess to thee, Kay, it is amarvel that I did not melt down into a liquid pool, through theshame that I felt at the black man's derision. And that night Icame to the same castle where I had spent the night preceding. AndI was more agreeably entertained that night than I had been thenight before. And I conversed freely with the inmates of thecastle; and none of them alluded to my expedition to the fountain, neither did I mention it to any. And I remained there that night. When I arose on the morrow I found ready saddled a dark baypalfrey, with nostrils as red as scarlet. And after putting on myarmor, and leaving there my blessing, I returned to my own court. And that horse I still possess, and he is in the stable yonder. And I declare that I would not part with him for the best palfreyin the island of Britain. 

"Now, of a truth, Kay, no man ever before confessed to anadventure so much to his own discredit; and verily it seemsstrange to me that neither before nor since have I heard of anyperson who knew of this adventure, and that the subject of itshould exist within King Arthur's dominions without any otherperson lighting upon it. "

CHAPTER III

THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN (Continued)

OWAIN'S ADVENTURE

[Footnote: Amongst all the characters of early British historynone is the more interesting, or occupies more conspicuous place, than the hero of this tale. Urien, his father, was prince ofRheged, a district comprising the present Cumberland and part ofthe adjacent country. His valor, and the consideration in which hewas held, are a frequent theme of Bardic song, and form thesubject of several very spirited odes by Taliesin. Among theTriads there is one relating to him; it is thus translated:

"Three Knights of Battle were in court of Arthur Cadwr, the Earlof Cornwall, Launcelot du Lac, and Owain, the son of Urien. Andthis was their characteristic--that they would not retreat frombattle, neither for spear, nor for arrow, nor for sword. AndArthur never had shame in battle the day he saw their faces there. And they were called the Knights of Battle. "]

"Now, " quoth Owain, "would it not be well to go and endeavor todiscover that place?"

"By the hand of my friend, " said Kay, "often dost thou utter thatwith thy tongue which thou wouldest not make good with thy deeds. "

"In very truth, " said Guenever, "it were better thou wert hanged, Kay, than to use such uncourteous speech towards a man likeOwain. "

"By the hand of my friend, good lady, " said Kay, "thy praise ofOwain is not greater than mine. "

With that Arthur awoke, and asked if he had not been sleeping alittle. 

"Yes, lord, " answered Owain, "thou hast slept awhile. "

"Is it time for us to go to meat?"

"It is, lord, " said Owain. 

Then the horn for washing was sounded, and the king and all hishousehold sat down to eat. And when the meal was ended Owainwithdrew to his lodging, and made ready his horse and his arms. 

On the morrow with the dawn of day he put on his armor, andmounted his charger, and travelled through distant lands, and overdesert mountains. And at length he arrived at the valley whichKynon had described to him, and he was certain that it was thesame that he sought. And journeying along the valley, by the sideof the river, he followed its course till he came to the plain, and within sight of the castle. When he approached the castle hesaw the youths shooting with their bows, in the place where Kynonhad seen them, and the yellow man, to whom the castle belonged, standing hard by. And no sooner had Owain saluted the yellow man, than he was saluted by him in return. 

And he went forward towards the castle, and there he saw thechamber; and when he had entered the chamber, he beheld themaidens working at satin embroidery, in chains of gold. And theirbeauty and their comeliness seemed to Owain far greater than Kynonhad represented to him. And they arose to wait upon Owain, as theyhad done to Kynon. And the meal which they set before him gaveeven more satisfaction to Owain than it had done to Kynon. 

About the middle of the repast the yellow man asked Owain theobject of his journey. And Owain made it known to him, and said, "I am in quest of the knight who guards the fountain. " Upon thisthe yellow man smiled, and said that he was as loth to point outthat adventure to him as he had been to Kynon. However, hedescribed the whole to Owain, and they retired to rest. 

The next morning Owain found his horse made ready for him by thedamsels, and he set forward and came to the glade where the blackman was. And the stature of the black man seemed more wonderful toOwain than it had done to Kynon; and Owain asked of him his road, and he showed it to him. And Owain followed the road till he cameto the green tree; and he beheld the fountain, and the slab besidethe fountain, with the bowl upon it. And Owain took the bowl andthrew a bowlful of water upon the slab. And, lo! the thunder washeard, and after the thunder came the shower, more violent thanKynon had described, and after the shower the sky became bright. And immediately the birds came and settled upon the tree and sang. And when their song was most pleasing to Owain he beheld a knightcoming towards him through the valley; and he prepared to receivehim, and encountered him violently. Having broken both theirlances, they drew their swords and fought blade to blade. ThenOwain struck the knight a blow through his helmet, head-piece, andvisor, and through the skin, and the flesh, and the bone, until itwounded the very brain. Then the black knight felt that he hadreceived a mortal wound, upon which he turned his horse's head andfled. And Owain pursued him and followed close upon him, althoughhe was not near enough to strike him with his sword. Then Owaindescried a vast and resplendent castle; and they came to thecastle gate. And the black knight was allowed to enter, and theportcullis was let fall upon Owain; and it struck his horse behindthe saddle, and cut him in two, and carried away the rowels of thespurs that were upon Owains' heels. And the portcullis descendedto the floor. And the rowels of the spurs and part of the horsewere without, and Owain with the other part of the horse remainedbetween the two gates, and the inner gate was closed, so thatOwain could not go thence; and Owain was in a perplexingsituation. And while he was in this state, he could see through anaperture in the gate a street facing him, with a row of houses oneach side. And he beheld a maiden, with yellow, curling hair, anda frontlet of gold upon her head; and she was clad in a dress ofyellow satin, and on her feet were shoes of variegated leather. And she approached the gate, and desired that it should be opened. "Heaven knows, lady, " said Owain, "it is no more possible for meto open to thee from hence, than it is for thee to set me free. "And he told her his name, and who he was. "Truly, " said thedamsel, "it is very sad that thou canst not be released; and everywoman ought to succor thee, for I know there is no one morefaithful in the service of ladies than thou. Therefore, " quothshe, "whatever is in my power to do for thy release, I will do it. Take this ring and put it on thy finger, with the stone inside thyhand, and close thy hand upon the stone. And as long as thouconcealest it, it will conceal thee. When they come forth to fetchthee, they will be much grieved that they cannot find thee. And Iwill await thee on the horseblock yonder, and thou wilt be able tosee me, though I cannot see thee. Therefore come and place thyhand upon my shoulder, that I may know that thou art near me. Andby the way that I go hence do thou accompany me. "

Then the maiden went away from Owain, and he did all that she hadtold him. And the people of the castle came to seek Owain to puthim to death; and when they found nothing but the half of hishorse, they were sorely grieved. 

And Owain vanished from among them, and went to the maiden, andplaced his hand upon her shoulder; whereupon she set off, andOwain followed her, until they came to the door of a large andbeautiful chamber, and the maiden opened it, and they went in. AndOwain looked around the chamber, and behold there was not a singlenail in it that was not painted with gorgeous colors, and therewas not a single panel that had not sundry images in goldportrayed upon it. 

The maiden kindled a fire, and took water in a silver bowl, andgave Owain water to wash. Then she placed before him a silvertable, inlaid with gold; upon which was a cloth of yellow linen, and she brought him food. And, of a truth, Owain never saw anykind of meat that was not there in abundance, but it was bettercooked there than he had ever found it in any other place. Andthere was not one vessel from which he was served that was not ofgold or of silver. And Owain eat and drank until late in theafternoon, when lo! they heard a mighty clamor in the castle, andOwain asked the maiden what it was. "They are administeringextreme unction, " said she, "to the nobleman who owns the castle. "And she prepared a couch for Owain which was meet for Arthurhimself, and Owain went to sleep. 

And a little after daybreak he heard an exceeding loud clamor andwailing, and he asked the maiden what was the cause of it. "Theyare bearing to the church the body of the nobleman who owned thecastle. "

And Owain rose up, and clothed himself, and opened a window of thechamber, and looked towards the castle; and he could see neitherthe bounds nor the extent of the hosts that filled the streets. And they were fully armed; and a vast number of women were withthem, both on horseback and on foot, and all the ecclesiastics inthe city singing. In the midst of the throng he beheld the bier, over which was a veil of white linen; and wax tapers were burningbeside and around it; and none that supported the bier was lowerin rank than a powerful baron. 

Never did Owain see an assemblage so gorgeous with silk [Footnote:Before the sixth century all the silk used by Europeans had beenbrought to them by the Seres, the ancestors of the presentBoukharians, whence it derived its Latin name of Serica. In 551the silkworm was brought by two monks to Constantinople, but themanufacture of silk was confined to the Greek empire till the year1130, when Roger, king of Sicily, returning from a crusade, collected some manufacturers from Athens and Corinth, andestablished them at Palermo, whence the trade was graduallydisseminated over Italy. The varieties of silk stuffs known atthis time were velvet, satin (which was called samite), andtaffety (called cendal or sendall), all of which were occasionallystitched with gold and silver. ] and satin. And, following thetrain, he beheld a lady with yellow hair falling over hershoulders, and stained with blood; and about her a dress of yellowsatin, which was torn. Upon her feet were shoes of variegatedleather. And it was a marvel that the ends of her fingers were notbruised from the violence with which she smote her hands together. Truly she would have been the fairest lady Owain ever saw, had shebeen in her usual guise. And her cry was louder than the shout ofthe men or the clamor of the trumpets. No sooner had he beheld thelady than he became inflamed with her love, so that it took entirepossession of him. 

Then he inquired of the maiden who the lady was. "Heaven knows, "replied the maiden, "she is the fairest and the most chaste, andthe most liberal, and the most noble of women. She is my mistress, and she is called the Countess of the Fountain, the wife of himwhom thou didst slay yesterday. " "Verily, " said Owain, "she is thewoman that I love best. " "Verily, " said the maiden, "she shallalso love thee, not a little. "

Then the maiden prepared a repast for Owain, and truly he thoughthe had never before so good a meal, nor was he ever so wellserved. Then she left him, and went towards the castle. When shecame there, she found nothing but mourning and sorrow; and theCountess in her chamber could not bear the sight of any onethrough grief. Luned, for that was the name of the maiden, salutedher, but the Countess answered her not. And the maiden bent downtowards her, and said, "What aileth thee, that thou answereth noone to-day?" "Luned, " said the Countess, "what change hathbefallen thee, that thou hast not come to visit me in my grief. Itwas wrong in thee, and I so sorely afflicted. " "Truly, " saidLuned, "I thought thy good sense was greater than I find it to be. Is it well for thee to mourn after that good man, or for anythingelse that thou canst not have?" "I declare to Heaven, " said theCountess, "that in the whole world there is not a man equal tohim. " "Not so, " said Luned, "for an ugly man would be as good asor better than he. " "I declare to Heaven, " said the Countess, "that were it not repugnant to me to put to death one whom I havebrought up, I would have thee executed for making such acomparison to me. As it is, I will banish thee. " "I am glad, " saidLuned, "that thou hast no other cause to do so than that I wouldhave been of service to thee, where thou didst not know what wasto thine advantage. Henceforth, evil betide whichever of us shallmake the first advance towards reconciliation to the other, whether I should seek an invitation from thee, or thou of thineown accord should send to invite. "

With that Luned went forth; and the Countess arose and followedher to the door of the chamber, and began coughing loudly. Andwhen Luned looked back, the Countess beckoned to her, and shereturned to the Countess. "In truth, " said the Countess, "evil isthy disposition; but if thou knowest what is to my advantage, declare it to me. " "I will do so, " said she. 

"Thou knowest that, except by warfare and arms, it is impossiblefor thee to preserve thy possessions; delay not, therefore, toseek some one who can defend them. " "And how can I do that?" saidthe Countess. "I will tell thee, " said Luned; "unless thou canstdefend the fountain, thou canst not maintain thy dominions; and noone can defend the fountain except it be a knight of Arthur'shousehold. I will go to Arthur's court, and ill betide me if Ireturn not thence with a warrior who can guard the fountain aswell as, or even better than, he who defended it formerly. " "Thatwill be hard to perform, " said the Countess. "Go, however, andmake proof of that which thou hast promised, "

Luned set out under the pretence of going to Arthur's court; butshe went back to the mansion where she had left Owain, and shetarried there as long as it might have taken her to travel to thecourt of King Arthur and back. And at the end of that time sheapparelled herself, and went to visit the Countess. And theCountess was much rejoiced when she saw her, and inquired whatnews she brought from the court. "I bring thee the best of news, "said Luned, "for I have compassed the object of my mission. Whenwilt thou that I should present to thee the chieftain who has comewith me hither?" "Bring him here to visit me to-morrow, " said theCountess, "and I will cause the town to be assembled by thattime. "

And Luned returned home. And the next day at noon, Owain arrayedhimself in a coat and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin, upon which was a broad band of gold lace; and on his feet werehigh shoes of variegated leather, which were fastened by goldenclasps, in the form of lions. And they proceeded to the chamber ofthe Countess. 

Right glad was the Countess of their coming. And she gazedsteadfastly upon Owain, and said, "Luned, this knight has not thelook of a traveller. " "What harm is there in that, lady?" saidLuned. "I am certain, " said the Countess, "that no other man thanthis chased the soul from the body of my lord. " "So much thebetter for thee, lady, " said Luned, "for had he not been strongerthan thy lord, he could not have deprived him of life. There is noremedy for that which is past, be it as it may. " "Go back to thineabode, " said the Countess, "and I will take counsel. "

The next day the Countess caused all her subjects to assemble, andshowed them that her earldom was left defenceless, and that itcould not be protected but with horse and arms, and militaryskill. "Therefore, " said she, "this is what I offer for yourchoice: either let one of you take me, or give your consent for meto take a husband from elsewhere, to defend my dominions. "

So they came to the determination that it was better that sheshould have permission to marry some one from elsewhere; andthereupon she sent for the bishops and archbishops, to celebrateher nuptials with Owain. And the men of the earldom did Owainhomage. 

And Owain defended the fountain with lance and sword. And this isthe manner in which he defended it. Whensoever a knight camethere, he overthrew him, and sold him for his full worth. And whathe thus gained he divided among his barons and his knights, and noman in the whole world could be more beloved than he was by hissubjects. And it was thus for the space of three years. 

[Footnote: There exists an ancient poem, printed among those ofTaliesin, called the "Elegy of Owain ap Urien, " and containingseveral very beautiful and spirited passages It commences

 "The soul of Owain ap Urien, May its Lord consider its exigencies' Reged's chief the green turf covers. "

In the course of this Elegy the bard, alluding to the incessantwarfare with which this chieftain harassed his Saxon foes, exclaims, "Could England sleep with the light upon her eyes'"]

CHAPTER IV

THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN (Continued)

GAWAIN'S ADVENTURE

It befell that, as Gawain went forth one day with King Arthur, heperceived him to be very sad and sorrowful. And Gawain was muchgrieved to see Arthur in his state, and he questioned him, saying, "O my lord, what has befallen thee?" "In sooth, Gawain, " saidArthur, "I am grieved concerning Owain, whom I have lost thesethree years; and I shall certainly die if the fourth year passwithout my seeing him. Now I am sure that it is through the talewhich Kynon, the son of Clydno, related, that I have lost Owain. ""There is no need for thee, " said Gawain, "to summon to arms thywhole dominions on this account, for thou thyself, and the men ofthy household, will be able to avenge Owain if he be slain or toset him free if he be in prison; and, if alive, to bring him backwith thee. " And it was settled according to what Gawain had said. 

Then Arthur and the men of his household prepared to go and seekOwain. And Kynon, the son of Clydno, acted as their guide. AndArthur came to the castle where Kynon had been before. And when hecame there, the youths were shooting in the same place, and theyellow man was standing hard by. When the yellow man saw Arthur, he greeted him, and invited him to the castle. And Arthur acceptedhis invitation, and they entered the castle together. And great aswas the number of his retinue, their presence was scarcelyobserved in the castle, so vast was its extent. And the maidensrose up to wait on them. And the service of the maidens appearedto them all to excel any attendance they had ever met with; andeven the pages, who had charge of the horses, were no worse servedthat night than Arthur himself would have been in his own palace. 

The next morning Arthur set out thence, with Kynon for his guide, and came to the place where the black man was. And the stature ofthe black man was more surprising to Arthur than it had beenrepresented to him. And they came to the top of the wooded steep, and traversed the valley, till they reached the green tree, wherethey saw the fountain and the bowl and the slab. And upon that Kaycame to Arthur, and spoke to him. "My lord, " said he, "I know themeaning of all this, and my request is that thou wilt permit me tothrow the water on the slab, and to receive the first adventurethat may befall. " And Arthur gave him leave. 

Then Kay threw a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediatelythere came the thunder, and after the thunder the shower. And sucha thunder-storm they had never known before. After the shower hadceased, the sky became clear, and on looking at the tree, theybeheld it completely leafless. Then the birds descended upon thetree. And the song of the birds was far sweeter than any strainthey had ever heard before. Then they beheld a knight, on a coal-black horse, clothed in black satin, coming rapidly towards them. And Kay met him and encountered him, and it was not long beforeKay was overthrown. And the knight withdrew. And Arthur and hishost encamped for the night. 

And when they arose in the morning, they perceived the signal ofcombat upon the lance of the knight. Then, one by one, all thehousehold of Arthur went forth to combat the knight, until therewas not one that was not overthrown by him, except Arthur andGawain. And Arthur armed himself to encounter the knight. "O mylord, " said Gawain, "permit me to fight with him first. " AndArthur permitted him. And he went forth to meet the knight, havingover himself and his horse a satin robe of honor, which had beensent him by the daughter of the Earl of Rhangyr, and in this dresshe was not known by any of the host. And they charged each other, and fought all that day until the evening. And neither of them wasable to unhorse the other. And so it was the next day; they broketheir lances in the shock, but neither of them could obtain themastery. 

And the third day they fought with exceeding strong lances. Andthey were incensed with rage, and fought furiously, even untilnoon. And they gave each other such a shock that the girths oftheir horses were broken, so that they fell over their horses'cruppers to the ground. And they rose up speedily and drew theirswords, and resumed the combat. And all they that witnessed theirencounter felt assured that they had never before seen two men sovaliant or so powerful. And had it been midnight, it would havebeen light, from the fire that flashed from their weapons. And theknight gave Gawain a blow that turned his helmet from off hisface, so that the knight saw that it was Gawain. Then Owain said, "My lord Gawain, I did not know thee for my cousin, owing to therobe of honor that enveloped thee; take my sword and my arms. "Said Gawain, "Thou, Owain, art the victor; take thou my sword. "And with that Arthur saw that they were conversing, and advancedtoward them. "My lord Arthur, " said Gawam, "here is Owain who hasvanquished me, and will not take my arms. " "My lord, " said Owain, "it is he that has vanquished me, and he will not take my sword. ""Give me your swords, " said Arthur, "and then neither of you hasvanquished the other. " Then Owain put his arms around Arthur'sneck, and they embraced. And all the host hurried forward to seeOwain, and to embrace him. And there was nigh being a loss oflife, so great was the press. 

And they retired that night, and the next day Arthur prepared todepart. "My lord, " said Owain, "this is not well of thee. For Ihave been absent from thee these three years, and during all thattime, up to this very day, I have been preparing a banquet forthee, knowing that thou wouldst come to seek me. Tarry with me, therefore, until thou and thy attendants have recovered thefatigues of the journey, and have been anointed. "

And they all proceeded to the castle of the Countess of theFountain, and the banquet which had been three years preparing wasconsumed in three months. Never had they a more delicious oragreeable banquet. And Arthur prepared to depart. Then he sent anembassy to the Countess to beseech her to permit Owain to go withhim, for the space of three months, that he might show him to thenobles and the fair dames of the island of Britain. And theCountess gave her consent, although it was very painful to her. SoOwain came with Arthur to the island of Britain. And when he wasonce more amongst his kindred and friends, he remained threeyears, instead of three months, with them. 

THE ADVENTURE OF THE LION

And as Owain one day sat at meat, in the city of Caerleon uponUsk, behold a damsel entered the hall, upon a bay horse, with acurling mane, and covered with foam; and the bridle, and as muchas was seen of the saddle, were of gold. And the damsel wasarrayed in a dress of yellow satin. And she came up to Owain, andtook the ring from off his hand. "Thus, " said she, "shall betreated the deceiver, the traitor, the faithless, the disgraced, and the beardless. " And she turned her horse's head and departed. 

[Footnote: The custom of riding into a hall while the lord and hisguests sat at meat might be illustrated by numerous passages ofancient romance and history. But a quotation from Chaucer'sbeautiful and half-told tale of "Cambuscan" is sufficient:

 "And so befell that after the thridde cours, While that this king sat thus in his nobley, Herking his minstralles thir thinges play, Beforne him at his bord deliciously, In at the halle door all sodenly Ther came a knight upon a stede of bras, And in his hond a brod mirrour of glas; Upon his thombe he had of gold a ring, And by his side a naked sword hanging; And up he rideth to the highe bord. In all the halle ne was ther spoke a word, For meryaille of this knight; him to behold Full besily they waiten, young and old. "]

Then his adventure came to Owain's remembrance, and he wassorrowful. And having finished eating, he went to his own abode, and made preparations that night. And the next day he arose, butdid not go to the court, nor did he return to the Countess of theFountain, but wandered to the distant parts of the earth and touncultivated mountains. And he remained there until all hisapparel was worn out, and his body was wasted away, and his hairwas grown long. And he went about with the wild beasts, and fedwith them, until they became familiar with him. But at length hebecame so weak that he could no longer bear them company. Then hedescended from the mountains to the valley, and came to a park, that was the fairest in the world, and belonged to a charitablelady. 

One day the lady and her attendants went forth to walk by a lakethat was in the middle of the park. And they saw the form of aman, lying as if dead. And they were terrified. Nevertheless theywent near him, and touched him, and they saw that there was lifein him. And the lady returned to the castle, and took a flask fullof precious ointment and gave it to one of her maidens. "Go withthis, " said she, "and take with thee yonder horse, and clothing, and place them near the man we saw just now; and anoint him withthis balsam near his heart; and if there is life in him, he willrevive, through the efficiency of this balsam. Then watch what hewill do. "

And the maiden departed from her, and went and poured of thebalsam upon Owain, and left the horse and the garments hard by, and went a little way off and hid herself to watch him. In a shorttime, she saw him begin to move; and he rose up, and looked at hisperson, and became ashamed of the unseemliness of his appearance. Then he perceived the horse and the garments that were near him. And he clothed himself, and with difficulty mounted the horse. Then the damsel discovered herself to him, and saluted him. And heand the maiden proceeded to the castle, and the maiden conductedhim to a pleasant chamber, and kindled a fire, and left him. 

And he stayed at the castle three months, till he was restored tohis former guise, and became even more comely than he had everbeen before. And Owain rendered signal service to the lady, in acontroversy with a powerful neighbor, so that he made amplerequital to her for her hospitality; and he took his departure. 

And as he journeyed he heard a loud yelling in a wood. And it wasrepeated a second and a third time. And Owain went towards thespot, and beheld a huge craggy mound, in the middle of the wood, on the side of which was a gray rock. And there was a cleft in therock, and a serpent was within the cleft. And near the rock stooda black lion, and every time the lion sought to go thence theserpent darted towards him to attack him. And Owain unsheathed hissword, and drew near to the rock; and as the serpent sprung out hestruck him with his sword and cut him in two. And he dried hissword, and went on his way as before. But behold the lion followedhim, and played about him, as though it had been a greyhound thathe had reared. 

They proceeded thus throughout the day, until the evening. Andwhen it was time for Owain to take his rest he dismounted, andturned his horse loose in a flat and wooded meadow. And he struckfire, and when the fire was kindled, the lion brought him fuelenough to last for three nights. And the lion disappeared. Andpresently the lion returned, bearing a fine large roebuck. And hethrew it down before Owain, who went towards the fire with it. 

And Owain took the roebuck, and skinned it, and placed collops ofits flesh upon skewers round the fire. The rest of the buck hegave to the lion to devour. While he was so employed, he heard adeep groan near him, and a second, and a third. And the placewhence the groans proceeded was a cave in the rock; and Owain wentnear, and called out to know who it was that groaned so piteously. And a voice answered, "I am Luned, the hand-maiden of the Countessof the Fountain. " "And what dost thou here?" said he. "I amimprisoned, " said she, "on account of the knight who came fromArthur's court, and married the Countess. And he staid a shorttime with her, but he afterwards departed for the court of Arthur, and has not returned since. And two of the Countess's pagestraduced him, and called him a deceiver. And because I said Iwould vouch for it he would come before long and maintain hiscause against both of them, they imprisoned me in this cave, andsaid that I should be put to death, unless he came to deliver me, by a certain day; and that is no further off than to-morrow, and Ihave no one to send to seek him for me. His name is Owain, the sonof Urien. " "And art thou certain that if that knight knew allthis, he would come to thy rescue?" "I am most certain of it, "said she. 

When the collops were cooked, Owain divided them into two parts, between himself and the maiden, and then Owain laid himself downto sleep; and never did sentinel keep stricter watch over his lordthan the lion that night over Owain. 

And the next day there came the two pages with a great troop ofattendants to take Luned from her cell, and put her to death. AndOwain asked them what charge they had against her. And they toldhim of the compact that was between them; as the maiden had donethe night before. "And, " said they, "Owain has failed her, therefore we are taking her to be burnt. " "Truly, " said Owain, "heis a good knight; and if he knew that the maiden was in suchperil, I marvel that he came not to her rescue. But if you willaccept me in his stead, I will do battle with you. " "We will, "said the youth. 

And they attacked Owain, and he was hard beset by them. And withthat, the lion came to Owain's assistance, and they two got thebetter of the young men And they said to him, "Chieftain, it wasnot agreed that we should fight save with thyself alone, and it isharder for us to contend with yonder animal than with thee. " AndOwain put the lion in the place where Luned had been imprisoned, and blocked up the door with stones. And he went to fight with theyoung men as before. But Owain had not his usual strength, and thetwo youths pressed hard upon him. And the lion roared incessantlyat seeing Owain in trouble. And he brust through the wall, untilhe found a way out, and rushed upon the young men and instantlyslew them. So Luned was saved from being burned. 

Then Owain returned with Luned to the castle of the Lady of theFountain. And when he went thence, he took the Countess with himto Arthur's court, and she was his wife as long as she lived. 

CHAPTER V

GERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN

Arthur was accustomed to hold his court at Caerleon upon Usk. Andthere he held it seven Easters and five Christmases. And once upona time he held his court there at Whitsuntide. For Caerleon wasthe place most easy of access in his dominions, both by sea and byland. And there were assembled nine crowned kings, who were histributaries, and likewise earls and barons. For they were hisinvited guests at all the high festivals, unless they wereprevented by any great hinderatice. And when he was at Caerleonholding his court, thirteen churches were set apart for mass. Andthus they were appointed: one church for Arthur and his kings, andhis guests; and the second for Guenever and her ladies; and thethird for the steward of the household and the suitors; and thefourth for the Franks and the other officers; and the other ninechurches were for the nine masters of the household, and chieflyfor Gawain, for he, from the eminence of his warlike fame, andfrom the nobleness of his birth, was the most exalted of the nine. And there was no other arrangement respecting the churches thanthat which we have here mentioned. 

And on Whit-Tuesday, as the king sat at the banquet, lo, thereentered a tall, fair-headed youth, clad in a coat and surcoat ofsatin, and a golden-hilted sword about his neck, and low shoes ofleather upon his feet. And he came and stood before Arthur. "Hailto thee, lord, " said he. "Heaven prosper thee, " he answered, "andbe thou welcome. Dost thou bring any new tidings?" "I do, lord, "he said. "I am one of thy foresters, lord, in the forest of Dean, and my name is Madoc, son of Turgadarn. In the forest I saw astag, the like of which beheld I never yet. " "What is there abouthim, " asked Arthur, "that thou never yet didst see his like?" "Heis of pure white, lord, and he does not herd with any otheranimal, through stateliness and pride, so royal is his bearing. And I come to seek thy counsel, lord, and to know thy willconcerning him. " "It seems best to me, " said Arthur, "to go andhunt him to-morrow at break of day, and to cause general noticethereof to be given to-night, in all quarters of the court. "

 "For Arthur on the Whitsuntide before Held court at old Caerleon upon Usk. There on a day, he sitting high in hall, Before him came a forester of Dean, Wet from the woods, with notice of a hart

 Taller than all his fellows, milky-white, First seen that day: these things he told the king. Then the good king gave order to let blow His horns for hunting on the morrow morn. "

 --Enid. 

And Arryfuerys was Arthur's chief huntsman, and Arelivri his chiefpage. And all received notice; and thus it was arranged. 

Then Guenever said to Arthur, "Wilt thou permit me, lord, to goto-morrow to see and hear the hunt of the stag of which the youngman spoke?" "I will gladly, " said Arthur. And Gawain said toArthur, "Lord, if it seem well to thee, permit that into whosehunt soever the stag shall come, that one, be he a knight or oneon foot, may cut off his head, and give it to whom he pleases, whether to his own lady-love, or to the lady of his friend. " "Igrant it gladly, " said Arthur, "and let the steward of thehousehold be chastised, if all things are not ready to-morrow forthe chase. "

And they passed the night with songs, and diversions, anddiscourse, and ample entertainment. And when it was time for themall to go to sleep, they went. And when the next day came, theyarose. And Arthur called the attendants who guarded his couch. Andthere were four pages whose names were Cadyrnerth, the son ofGandwy, and Ambreu, the son of Bedwor and Amhar, the son of Arthurand Goreu, the son of Custennin. And these men came to Arthur andsaluted him, and arrayed him in his garments. And Arthur wonderedthat Guenever did not awake, and the attendants wished to awakenher. "Disturb her not, " said Arthur, "for she had rather sleepthan go to see the hunting. "

Then Arthur went forth, and he heard two horns sounding, one fromnear the lodging of the chief huntsman, and the other from nearthat of the chief page. And the whole assembly of the multitudescame to Arthur, and they took the road to the forest. 

And after Arthur had gone forth from the palace, Guenever awoke, and called to her maidens, and apparalled herself. "Maidens, " saidshe, "I had leave last night to go and see the hunt. Go one of youto the stable, and order hither a horse such as a woman may ride. "And one of them went, and she found but two horses in the stable;and Guenever and one of her maidens mounted them, and went throughthe Usk, and followed the track of the men and the horses. And asthey rode thus, they heard a loud and rushing sound; and theylooked behind them, and beheld a knight upon a hunter foal ofmighty size. And the rider was a fairhaired youth, bare-legged, and of princely mien; and a golden-hilted sword was at his side, and a robe and a surcoat of satin were upon him, and two low shoesof leather upon his feet; and around him was a scarf of bluepurple, at each corner of which was a golden apple. 

 "For Prince Geraint, Late also, wearing neither hunting-dress Nor weapon, save a golden-hilted brand, Came quickly flashing through the shallow ford. " --Enid. 

And his horse stepped stately, and swift, and proud; and heovertook Guenever, and saluted her. "Heaven prosper thee, Geraint, " said she; "and why didst thou not go with thy lord tohunt?" "Because I knew not when he went, " said he. "I marvel too, "said she, "how he could go, unknown to me. But thou, O young man, art the most agreeable companion I could have in the wholekingdom; and it may be I shall be more amused with the huntingthan they; for we shall hear the horns when they sound and weshall hear the dogs when they are let loose and begin to cry. "

So they went to the edge of the forest, and there they stood. "From this place, " said she, "we shall hear when the dogs are letloose. " And thereupon they heard a loud noise; and they lookedtowards the spot whence it came, and they beheld a dwarf ridingupon a horse, stately and foaming and prancing and strong andspirited. And in the hand of the dwarf was a whip. And near thedwarf they saw a lady upon a beautiful white horse, of steady andstately pace; and she was clothed in a garment of gold brocade. And near her was a knight upon a war-horse of large size, withheavy and bright armor both upon himself and upon his horse. Andtruly they never before saw a knight, or a horse, or armor, ofsuch remarkable size. 

"Geraint, " said Guenever, "knowest thou the name of that tallknight yonder?" "I know him not, " said he, "and the strange armorthat he wears prevents my either seeing his face or his features. ""Go, maiden, " said Guenever, "and ask the dwarf who that knightis. " Then the maiden went up to the dwarf; and she inquired of thedwarf who the knight was. "I will not tell thee, " he answered. "Since thou art so churlish, " said she, "I will ask him, himself. ""Thou shalt not ask him, by my faith, " said he. "Wherefore not?"said she. "Because thou art not of honor sufficient to befit theeto speak to my lord. " Then the maiden turned her horse's headtowards the knight, upon which the dwarf struck her with the whipthat was in his hand across the face and the eyes, so that theblood flowed forth. And the maiden returned to Guenever, complaining of the hurt she had received. "Very rudely has thedwarf treated thee, " said Geraint, and he put his hand upon thehilt of his sword. But he took counsel with himself, andconsidered that it would be no vengeance for him to slay thedwarf, and to be attacked unarmed by the armed knight; so herefrained. 

"Lady, " said he, "I will follow him, with thy permission, and atlast he will come to some inhabited place, where I may have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge, so that I may encounter theknight. " "Go, " said she, "and do not attack him until thou hastgood arms; and I shall be very anxious concerning thee, until Ihear tidings of thee. " "If I am alive, " said he, "thou shalt heartidings of me by to-morrow afternoon;" and with that he departed. 

And the road they took was below the palace of Caerleon, andacross the ford of the Usk; and they went along a fair and evenand lofty ridge of ground, until they came to a town, and at theextremity of the town they saw a fortress and a castle. And as theknight passed through the town all the people arose and salutedhim, and bade him welcome. And when Geraint came into the town, helooked at every house to see if he knew any of those whom he saw. But he knew none, and none knew him, to do him the kindness to lethim have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge. And every househe saw was full of men, and arms, and horses. And they werepolishing shields, and burnishing swords, and washing armor, andshoeing horses. And the knight and the lady and the dwarf rode upto the castle, that was in the town, and every one was glad in thecastle. And from the battlements and the gates they risked theirnecks, through their eagerness to greet them, and to show theirjoy. 

Geraint stood there to see whether the knight would remain in thecastle; and when he was certain that he would do so, he lookedaround him. And at a little distance from the town he saw an oldpalace in ruins, wherein was a hall that was falling to decay. 

 "And high above a piece of turret-stair, Worn by the feet that now were silent, wound Bare to the sun"

 --Enid. 

And as he knew not any one in the town, he went towards the oldpalace. And when he came near to the palace, he saw a hoary-headedman, standing by it, in tattered garments. And Geraint gazedsteadfastly upon him. Then the hoary-headed man said to him, "Young man, wherefore art thou thoughtful?" "I am thoughtful, "said he, "because I know not where to pass the night. " "Wilt thoucome forward this way, chieftain, " said he, "and thou shalt haveof the best that can be procured for thee. " So Geraint wentforward. And the hoary-headed man led the way into the hall. Andin the hall he dismounted, and he left there his horse. Then hewent on to the upper chamber with the hoary-headed man. And in thechamber he beheld an old woman, sitting on a cushion, with old, worn-out garments upon her; yet it seemed to him that she musthave been comely when in the bloom of youth. And beside her was amaiden, upon whom were a vest and a veil that were old andbeginning to be worn out. And truly he never saw a maiden morefull of comeliness and grace and beauty than she. And the hoary-headed man said to the maiden, "There is no attendant for thehorse of this youth but thyself. " "I will render the best serviceI am able, " said she, "both to him and to his horse. " And themaiden disarrayed the youth, and then she furnished his horse withstraw and corn; and then she returned to the chamber. And thehoary-headed man said to the maiden, "Go to the town and bringhither the best that thou canst find, both of food and of liquor. ""I will gladly, lord, " said she. And to the town went the maiden. And they conversed together while the maiden was at the town. And, behold, the maiden came back, and a youth with her, bearing on hisback a costrel full of good purchased mead, and a quarter of ayoung bullock. And in the hands of the maiden was a quantity ofwhite bread, and she had some manchet bread in her veil, and shecame into the chamber. "I would not obtain better than this, " saidshe, "nor with better should I have been trusted. " "It is goodenough, " said Geraint. And they caused the meat to be boiled; andwhen their food was ready, they sat down. And it was in this wise. Geraint sat between the hoary-headed man and his wife, and themaiden served them. And they ate and drank. 

And when they had finished eating, Geraint talked with the hoary-headed man, and he asked him in the first place to whom belongedthe palace that he was in. "Truly, " said he, "it was I that builtit, and to me also belonged the city and the castle which thousawest. " "Alas!" said Geraint, "how is it that thou hast lost themnow?" "I lost a great earldom as well as these, " said he, "andthis is how I lost them. I had a nephew, the son of my brother, and I took care of his possessions; but he was impatient to enterupon them, so he made war upon me, and wrested from me not onlyhis own, but also my estates, except this castle. " "Good sir, "said Geraint, "wilt thou tell me wherefore came the knight and thelady and the dwarf just now into the town, and what is thepreparation which I saw, and the putting of arms in order?" "Iwill do so, " said he. "The preparations are for the game that isto be held to-morrow by the young earl, which will be on thiswise. In the midst of a meadow which is here, two forks will beset up, and upon the two forks a silver rod, and upon the silverrod a sparrow-hawk, and for the sparrow-hawk there will be atournament. And to the tournament will go all the array thou didstsee in the city, of men and of horses and of arms. And with eachman will go the lady he loves best; and no man can joust for thesparrow-hawk, except the lady he loves best be with him. And theknight that thou sawest has gained the sparrow-hawk these twoyears; and if he gains it the third year, he will be called theKnight of the Sparrow-hawk from that time forth. " "Sir, " saidGeraint, "what is thy counsel to me concerning this knight, onaccount of the insult which the maiden of Guenever received fromthe dwarf?" And Geraint told the hoary-headed man what the insultwas that the maiden had received. "It is not easy to counsel thee, inasmuch as thou hast neither dame nor maiden belonging to thee, for whom thou canst joust. Yet I have arms here, which thoucouldst have, and there is my horse also, if he seem to theebetter than thine own. " "Ah, sir, " said he, "Heaven reward thee!But my own horse to which I am accustomed, together with thinearms, will suffice me. And if, when the appointed time shall cometo-morrow thou wilt permit me, sir, to challenge for yonder maidenthat is thy daughter, I will engage, if I escape from thetournament, to love the maiden as long as I live. " "Gladly will Ipermit thee, " said the hoary-headed man; "and since thou dost thusresolve, it is necessary that thy horse and arms should be readyto-morrow at break of day. For then the Knight of the Sparrow-hawkwill make proclamation, and ask the lady he loves best to take thesparrow-hawk; and if any deny it to her, by force will he defendher claim. And therefore, " said the hoary-headed man, "it isneedful for thee to be there at daybreak, and we three will bewith thee. " And thus was it settled. 

And at night they went to sleep. And before the dawn they aroseand arrayed themselves; and by the time that it was day, they wereall four in the meadow. And there was the Knight of the Sparrow-hawk making the proclamation, and asking his lady-love to take thesparrow-hawk. "Take it not, " said Geraint, "for here is a maidenwho is fairer, and more noble, and more comely, and who has abetter claim to it than thou. " Then said the knight, "If thoumaintainest the sparrow-hawk to be due to her, come forward and dobattle with me. " And Geraint went forward to the top of themeadow, having upon himself and upon his horse armor which washeavy and rusty, and of uncouth shape. Then they encountered eachother, and they broke a set of lances; and they broke a secondset, and a third. And when the earl and his company saw the Knightof the Sparrow-hawk gaining the mastery, there was shouting andjoy and mirth amongst them; and the hoary-headed man and his wifeand his daughter were sorrowful. And the hoary-headed man servedGeraint with lances as often as he broke them, and the dwarfserved the Knight of the Sparrow-hawk. Then the hoary-headed mansaid to Geraint, "O chieftain, since no other will hold with thee, behold, here is the lance which was in my hand on the day when Ireceived the honor of knighthood, and from that time to this Inever broke it, and it has an excellent point. " Then Geraint tookthe lance, thanking the hoary-headed man. And thereupon the dwarfalso brought a lance to his lord. "Behold, here is a lance forthee, not less good than his, " said the dwarf. "And bethink theethat no knight ever withstood thee so long as this one has done. ""I declare to Heaven, " said Geraint, "that unless death takes mequickly hence, he shall fare never the better for thy service. "And Geraint pricked his horse towards him from afar, and, warninghim, he rushed upon him, and gave him a blow so severe, andfurious, and fierce, upon the face of his shield, that he cleft itin two, and broke his armor, and burst his girths, so that both heand his saddle were borne to the ground over the horse's crupper. And Geraint dismounted quickly. And he was wroth, and he drew hissword, and rushed fiercely upon him. Then the knight also arose, and drew his sword against Geraint. And they fought on foot withtheir swords until their arms struck sparks of fire like starsfrom one another; and thus they continued fighting until the bloodand sweat obscured the light from their eyes. At length Geraintcalled to him all his strength, and struck the knight upon thecrown of his head, so that he broke all his head-armor, and cutthrough all the flesh and the skin, even to the skull, until hewounded the bone. 

Then the knight fell upon his knees, and cast his sword from hishand, and besought mercy from Geraint. "Of a truth, " said he, "Irelinquish my overdaring and my pride, and crave thy mercy; andunless I have time to commit myself to Heaven for my sins, and totalk with a priest, thy mercy will avail me little. " "I will grantthee grace upon this condition, " said Geraint, "that thou go toGuenever, the wife of Arthur, to do her satisfaction for theinsult which her maiden received from thy dwarf. Dismount not fromthe time thou goest hence until thou comest into the presence ofGuenever, to make her what atonement shall be adjudged at thecourt of Arthur. " "This will I do gladly; and who art thou?" "I amGeraint, the son of Erbin; and declare thou also who thou art. " "Iam Edeym, the son of Nudd. " Then he threw himself upon his horse, and went forward to Arthur's court; and the lady he loved bestwent before him, and the dwarf, with much lamentation. 

Then came the young earl and his hosts to Geraint, and salutedhim, and bade him to his castle. "I may not go, " said Geraint;"but where I was last night, there will I be to-night also. ""Since thou wilt none of my inviting, thou shalt have abundance ofall that I can command for thee; and I will order ointment forthee, to recover thee from thy fatigues, and from the wearinessthat is upon thee. " "Heaven reward thee, " said Geraint, "and Iwill go to my lodging. " And thus went Geraint and Earl Ynywl, andhis wife and his daughter. And when they reached the old mansion, the household servants and attendants of the young earl hadarrived, and had arranged all the apartments, dressing them withstraw and with fire; and in a short time the ointment was ready, and Geraint came there, and they washed his head. Then came theyoung earl, with forty honorable knights from among hisattendants, and those who were bidden to the tournament. AndGeraint came from the anointing. And the earl asked him to go tothe hall to eat. "Where is the Earl Ynywl, " said Geraint, "and hiswife and his daughter?" "They are in the chamber yonder, " said theearl's chamberlain, "arraying themselves in garments which theearl has caused to be brought for them. " "Let not the damsel arrayherself, " said he, "except in her vest and her veil, until shecome to the court of Arthur, to be clad by Guenever in suchgarments as she may choose. " So the maiden did not array herself. 

Then they all entered the hall, and they washed, and sat down tomeat. And thus were they seated. On one side of Geraint sat theyoung earl, and Earl Ynywl beyond him, and on the other side ofGeraint was the maiden and her mother. And after these all sataccording to their precedence in honor. And they ate. And theywere served abundantly, and they received a profusion of diverskinds of gifts. Then they conversed together. And the young earlinvited Geraint to visit him next day. "I will not, by Heaven, "said Geraint. "To the court of Arthur will I go with this maidento-morrow. And it is enough for me, as long as Earl Ynywl is inpoverty and trouble; and I go chiefly to seek to add to hismaintenance. " "Ah, chieftain, " said the young earl, "it is not bymy fault that Earl Ynywl is without his possessions. " "By myfaith, " said Geraint, "he shall not remain without them, unlessdeath quickly takes me hence. " "O chieftain, " said he, "withregard to the disagreement between me and Ynywl, I will gladlyabide by thy counsel, and agree to what thou mayest judge rightbetween us. " "I but ask thee, " said Geraint, "to restore to himwhat is his, and what he should have received from the time helost his possessions even until this day. " "That will I do, gladly, for thee, " answered he. "Then, " said Geraint, "whosoeveris here who owes homage to Ynywl, let him come forward, andperform it on the spot. " And all the men did so; and by thattreaty they abided. And his castle and his town, and all hispossessions, were restored to Ynywl. And he received back all thathe had lost, even to the smallest jewel. 

Then spoke Earl Ynywl to Geraint. "Chieftain, " said he, "beholdthe maiden for whom thou didst challenge at the tournament; Ibestow her upon thee. " "She shall go with me, " said Geraint, "tothe court of Arthur, and Arthur and Guenever, they shall disposeof her as they will. " And the next day they proceeded to Arthur'scourt. So far concerning Geraint. 

CHAPTER VI

GERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN (Continued)

Now this is how Arthur hunted the stag. The men and the dogs weredivided into hunting-parties, and the dogs were let loose upon thestag. And the last dog that was let loose was the favorite dog ofArthur; Cavall was his name. And he left all the other dogs behindhim and turned the stag. And at the second turn the stag cametoward the hunting-party of Arthur. And Arthur set upon him; andbefore he could be slain by any other, Arthur cut off his head. Then they sounded the death-horn for slaying and they all gatheredround. 

They came Kadyriath to Arthur and spoke to him. "Lord, " said he, "behold, yonder is Guenever, and none with her save only onemaiden. " "Command Gildas, the son of Caw, and all the scholars ofthe court, " said Arthur, "to attend Guenever to the palace. " Andthey did so. 

Then they all set forth, holding converse together concerning thehead of the stag, to whom it should be given. One wished that itshould be given to the lady best beloved by him, and another tothe lady whom he loved best. And so they came to the palace. Andwhen Arthur and Guenever heard them disputing about the head ofthe stag, Guenever said to Arthur: "My lord, this is my counselconcerning the stag's head; let it not be given away untilGeraint, the son of Erbin, shall return from the errand he isupon. " And Guenever told Arthur what that errand was. "Rightgladly shall it be so, " said Arthur. And Guenever caused a watchto be set upon the ramparts for Geraint's coming. And after middaythey beheld an unshapely little man upon a horse, and after him adame or a damsel, also on horseback, and after her a knight oflarge stature, bowed down, and hanging his head low andsorrowfully, and clad in broken and worthless armor. 

And before they came near to the gate one of the watch went toGuenever, and told her what kind of people they saw, and whataspect they bore. "I know not who they are, " said he, "But Iknow, " said Guenever; "this is the knight whom Geraint pursued, and methinks that he comes not here by his own free will. ButGeraint has overtaken him, and avenged the insult to the maiden tothe uttermost. " And thereupon, behold, a porter came to the spotwhere Guenever was. "Lady, " said he, "at the gate there is aknight, and I saw never a man of so pitiful an aspect to look uponas he. Miserable and broken is the armor that he wears, and thehue of blood is more conspicuous upon it than its own color. ""Knowest thou his name?" said she. "I do, " said he; "he tells methat he is Edeyrn, the son of Nudd. " Then she replied, "I know himnot. "

So Guenever went to the gate to meet him and he entered. AndGuenever was sorry when she saw the condition he was in, eventhough he was accompanied by the churlish dwarf. Then Edeyrnsaluted Guenever. "Heaven protect thee, " said she. "Lady, " saidhe, "Geraint, the son of Erbin, thy best and most valiant servant, greets thee. " "Did he meet with thee?" she asked. "Yes, " said he, "and it was not to my advantage; and that was not his fault, butmine, lady. And Geraint greets thee well; and in greeting thee hecompelled me to come hither to do thy pleasure for the insultwhich thy maiden received from the dwarf. " "Now where did heovertake thee?" "At the place where we were jousting andcontending for the sparrow-hawk, in the town which is now calledCardiff. And it was for the avouchment of the love of the maiden, the daughter of Earl Ynywl, that Geraint jousted at thetournament. And thereupon we encountered each other, and he leftme, lady, as thou seest. " "Sir, " said she, "when thinkest thouthat Geraint will be here?" "To-morrow, lady, I think he will behere with the maiden. "

Then Arthur came to them. And he saluted Arthur, and Arthur gazeda long time upon him and was amazed to see him thus. And thinkingthat he knew him, he inquired of him, "Art thou Edeyrn, the son ofNudd?" "I am, lord, " said he, "and I have met with much troubleand received wounds unsupportable. " Then he told Arthur all hisadventure. "Well, " said Arthur, "from what I hear it behoovesGuenever to be merciful towards thee. " "The mercy which thoudesirest, lord, " said she. "will I grant to him, since it is asinsulting to thee that an insult should be offered to me as tothyself. " "Thus will it be best to do, " said Arthur; "let this manhave medical care until it be known whether he may live. And if helive, he shall do such satisfaction as shall be judged best by themen of the court. And if he die, too much will be the death ofsuch a youth as Edeyrn for an insult to a maiden. " "This pleasesme, " said Guenever. And Arthur caused Morgan Tud to be called tohim. He was the chief physician. "Take with thee Edeyrn, the sonof Nudd, and cause a chamber to be prepared for him, and let himhave the aid of medicine as thou wouldst do unto myself, if I werewounded, and let none into his chamber to molest him, but thyselfand thy disciples, to administer to him remedies. " "I will do so, gladly, lord, " said Morgan Tud. Then said the steward of thehousehold, "Whither is it right, lord, to order the maiden?" "ToGuenever and her handmaidens, " said he. And the steward of thehousehold so ordered her. 

 "And rising up, he rode to Arthur's court, And there the queen forgave him easily. And being young, he changed himself, and grew To hate the sin that seem'd so like his own Of Modred, Arthur's nephew, and fell at last In the great battle fighting for the king. "

 --Enid. 

The next day came Geraint towards the court; and there was a watchset on the ramparts by Guenever, lest he should arrive unawares. And one of the watch came to Guenever. "Lady, " said he, "methinksthat I see Geraint, and a maiden with him. He is on horseback, buthe has his walking gear upon him, and the maiden appears to be inwhite, seeming to be clad in a garment of linen. " "Assemble allthe women, " said Guenever, "and come to meet Geraint, to welcomehim, and wish him joy. " And Guenever went to meet Geraint and themaiden. And when Geraint came to the place where Guenever was, hesaluted her. "Heaven prosper thee, " said she, "and welcome tothee. " "Lady, " said he, "I earnestly desired to obtain theesatisfaction, according to thy will; and, behold, here is themaiden through whom thou hadst thy revenge. " "Verily, " saidGuenever, "the welcome of Heaven be unto her; and it is fittingthat we should receive her joyfully. " Then they went in anddismounted. And Geraint came to where Arthur was, and saluted him. "Heaven protect thee, " said Arthur, "and the welcome of Heaven beunto thee. And inasmuch as thou hast vanquished Edeyrn, the son ofNudd, thou hast had a prosperous career. " "Not upon me be theblame, " said Geraint; "it was through the arrogance of Edeyrn, theson of Nudd, himself, that we were not friends. " "Now, " saidArthur, "where is the maiden for whom I heard thou didst givechallenge?" "She is gone with Guenever to her chamber. " Then wentArthur to see the maiden. And Arthur, and all his companions, andhis whole court, were glad concerning the maiden. And certain werethey all, that, had her array been suitable to her beauty, theyhad never seen a maid fairer than she. And Arthur gave away themaiden to Geraint. And the usual bond made between two persons wasmade between Geraint and the maiden, and the choicest of allGuenever's apparel was given to the maiden; and thus arrayed, sheappeared comely and graceful to all who beheld her. And that dayand the night were spent in abundance of minstrelsy, and amplegifts of liquor, and a multiude of games. And when it was time forthem to go to sleep they went. And in the chamber where the couchof Arthur and Guenever was, the couch of Geraint and Enid wasprepared. And from that time she became his wife. And the next dayArthur satisfied all the claimants upon Geraint with bountifulgifts. And the maiden took up her abode in the palace, and she hadmany companions, both men and women, and there was no maiden moreesteemed than she in the island of Britain. 

Then spake Guenever. "Rightly did I judge, " said she, "concerningthe head of the stag, that it should not be given to any untilGeraint's return; and behold, here is a fit occasion for bestowingit. Let it be given to Enid, the daughter of Ynywl, the mostillustrious maiden. And I do not believe that any will begrudge ither, for between her and every one here there exists nothing butlove and friendship. " Much applauded was this by them all, and byArthur also. And the head of the stag was given to Enid. Andthereupon her fame increased, and her friends became more innumber than before. And Geraint from that time forth loved thehunt, and the tournament, and hard encounters; and he camevictorious from them all. And a year, and a second, and a third, he proceeded thus, until his fame had flown over the face of thekingdom. 

And, once upon a time, Arthur was holding his court at Caerleonupon Usk; and behold, there came to him ambassadors, wise andprudent, full of knowledge and eloquent of speech, and theysaluted Arthur. "Heaven prosper you!" said Arthur; "and whence doyou come?" "We come, lord, " said they, "from Cornwall; and we areambassadors from Erbin, the son of Custennin, thy uncle, and ourmission is unto thee. And he greets thee well, as an uncle shouldgreet his nephew, and as a vassal should greet his lord. And herepresents unto thee that he waxes heavy and feeble, and isadvancing in years. And the neighboring chiefs, knowing this, growinsolent towards him, and covet his land and possessions. And heearnestly beseeches thee, lord, to permit Geraint, his son, toreturn to him, to protect his possessions, and to becomeacquainted with his boundaries. And unto him he represents that itwere better for him to spend the flower of his youth and the primeof his age in preserving his own boundaries, than in tournamentswhich are productive of no profit, although he obtains glory inthem. "

"Well, " said Arthur, "go and divest yourselves of youraccoutrements, and take food, and refresh yourselves after yourfatigues; and before you go from hence you shall have an answer. "And they went to eat. And Arthur considered that it would go hardwith him to let Geraint depart from him, and from his court;neither did he think it fair that his cousin should be restrainedfrom going to protect his dominions and his boundaries, seeingthat his father was unable to do so. No less was the grief andregret of Guenever, and all her women, and all her damsels, through fear that the maiden would leave them. And that day andthat night were spent in abundance of feasting. And Arthur toldGeraint the cause of the mission, and of the coming of theambassadors to him out of Cornwall. "Truly, " said Geraint, "be itto my advantage or disadvantage, lord, I will do according to thywill concerning this embassy. " "Behold, " said Arthur, "though itgrieves me to part with thee, it is my counsel that thou go todwell in thine own dominions, and to defend thy boundaries, andtake with thee to accompany thee as many as thou wilt of thosethou lovest best among my faithful ones, and among thy friends, and among thy companions in arms. " "Heaven reward thee! and thiswill I do, " said Geraint. "What discourse, " said Guenever, "do Ihear between you? Is it of those who are to conduct Geraint to hiscountry?" "It is, " said Arthur. "Then is it needful for me toconsider, " said she, "concerning companions and a provision forthe lady that is with me. " "Thou wilt do well, " said Arthur. 

And that night they went to sleep. And the next day theambassadors were permitted to depart, and they were told thatGeraint should follow them. And on the third day Geraint setforth, and many went with him--Gawain, the son of Gwyar, andRiogoned, the son of the king of Ireland, and Ondyaw, the son ofthe Duke of Burgundy, Gwilim, the son of the ruler of the Franks, Howel, the son of the Earl of Brittany, Perceval, the son ofEvrawk, Gwyr, a judge in the court of Arthur, Bedwyr, the son ofBedrawd, Kai, the son of Kyner, Odyar, the Frank, and Ederyn, theson of Nudd. Said Geraint, "I think I shall have enough ofknighthood with me. " And they set forth. And never was there seena fairer host journeying towards the Severn. And on the other sideof the Severn were the nobles of Erbin, the son of Custennin, andhis foster-father at their head, to welcome Geraint with gladness;and many of the women of the court, with his mother, came toreceive Enid, the daughter of Ynywl, his wife. And there was greatrejoicing and gladness throughout the whole court, and through allthe country, concerning Geraint, because of the greatness of theirlove to him, and of the greatness of the fame which he had gainedsince he went from amongst them, and because he was come to takepossession of his dominions, and to preserve his boundaries. Andthey came to the court. And in the court they had ampleentertainment, and a multitude of gifts, and abundance of liquor, and a sufficiency of service, and a variety of games. And to dohonor to Geraint, all the chief men of the country were invitedthat night to visit him. And they passed that day and that nightin the utmost enjoyment. And at dawn next day Erbin arose andsummoned to him Geraint, and the noble persons who had borne himcompany. And he said to Geraint: "I am a feeble and an aged man, and whilst I was able to maintain the dominion for thee and formyself, I did so. But thou art young, and in the flower of thyvigor and of thy youth. Henceforth do thou preserve thypossessions. " "Truly, " said Geraint, "with my consent thou shaltnot give the power over thy dominions at this time into my hands, and thou shalt not take me from Arthur's court. " "Into thy handswill I give them, " said Erbin, "and this day also shalt thoureceive the homage of thy subjects. "

Then said Gawain, "It were better for thee to satisfy those whohave boons to ask, to-day, and to-morrow thou canst receive thehomage of thy dominions. " So all that had boons to ask weresummoned into one place. And Kadyriath came to them to know whatwere their requests. And every one asked that which he desired. And the followers of Arthur began to make gifts, and immediatelythe men of Cornwall came, and gave also. And they were not long ingiving, so eager was every one to bestow gifts, and of those whocame to ask gifts, none departed unsatisfied. And that day andthat night were spent in the utmost enjoyment. 

And the next day at dawn, Erbin desired Geraint to send messengersto the men to ask them whether it was displeasing to them that heshould come to receive their homage, and whether they had anythingto object to him. Then Geraint sent ambassadors to the men ofCornwall to ask them this. And they all said that it would be thefulness of joy and honor to them for Geraint to come and receivetheir homage. So he received the homage of such as were there. Andthe day after the followers of Arthur intended to go away. "It istoo soon for you to go away yet, " said he; "stay with me until Ihave finished receiving the homage of my chief men, who haveagreed to come to me. " And they remained with him until he haddone so. Then they set forth towards the court of Arthur. AndGeraint went to bear them company, and Enid also, as far asDiganwy; there they parted. And Ondyaw, the son of the Duke ofBurgundy, said to Geraint, "Go, now, and visit the uttermost partsof thy dominions, and see well to the boundaries of thyterritories; and if thou hast any trouble respecting them, sendunto thy companions. " "Heaven reward thee!" said Geraint; "andthis will I do. " And Geraint journeyed to the uttermost parts ofhis dominions. And experienced guides, and the chief men of hiscountry, went with him. And the furthermost point that they showedhim he kept possession of. 

CHAPTER VII

GERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN (Continued)

Geraint, as he had been used to do when he was at Arthur's court, frequented tournaments. And he became acquainted with valiant andmighty men, until he had gained as much fame there as he hadformerly done elsewhere. And he enriched his court, and hiscompanions, and his nobles, with the best horses and the bestarms, and with the best and most valuable jewels, and he ceasednot until his fame had flown over the face of the whole kingdom. 

 "Before Geraint, the scourge of the enemy, I saw steeds white with foam, And after the shout of battle a fearful torrent. "

 --Hen. 

When he knew that it was thus, he began to love ease and pleasure, for there was no one who was worth his opposing. And he loved hiswife, and liked to continue in the palace with minstrelsy anddiversions. So he began to shut himself up in the chamber of hiswife, and he took no delight in anything besides, insomuch that hegave up the friendship of his nobles, together with his huntingand his amusements, and lost the hearts of all the host in hiscourt. And there was murmuring and scoffing concerning him amongthe inhabitants of the palace, on account of his relinquishing socompletely their companionship for the love of his wife. 

 "They Began to scoff and jeer and babble of him As of a prince whose manhood was all gone, And molten down in mere uxoriousness. "

These tidings came to Erbin. And when Erbin had heard thesethings, he spoke unto Enid, and inquired of her whether it was shethat had caused Geraint to act thus, and to forsake his people andhis hosts. "Not I, by my confession unto Heaven, " said she; "thereis nothing more hateful unto me than this. " And she knew not whatshe should do, for, although it was hard for her to own this toGeraint, yet was it not more easy for her to listen to what sheheard, without warning Geraint concerning it. And she was verysorrowful. 

One morning in the summer-time they were upon their couch, andGeraint lay upon the edge of it. And Enid was without sleep in theapartment, which had windows of glass; [Footnote: The terms ofadmiration in which the older writers invariably speak of GLASSWINDOWS would be sufficient proof, if other evidence were wanting, how rare an article of luxury they were in the houses of ourancestors. They were first introduced in ecclesiasticalarchitecture, to which they were for a long time confined. Glassis said not to have been employed in domestic architecture beforethe fourteenth century. ] and the sun shone upon the couch. And theclothes had slipped from off his arms and his breast, and he wasasleep. Then she gazed upon the marvellous beauty of hisappearance, and she said, "Alas! and am I the cause that thesearms and this breast have lost their glory, and the warlike famewhich they once so richly enjoyed!" As she said this the tearsdropped from her eyes, and they fell upon his breast. And thetears she shed and the words she had spoken, awoke him. Andanother thing contributed to awaken him, and that was the ideathat it was not in thinking of him that she spoke thus, but thatit was because she loved some other man more than him, and thatshe wished for other society. Thereupon Geraint was troubled inhis mind, and he called his squire; and when he came to him, "Goquickly, " said he, "and prepare my horse and my arms, and makethem ready. And do thou rise, " said he to Enid, "and apparelthyself; and cause thy horse to be accoutred, and clothe thee inthe worst riding-dress that thou hast in thy possession. And evilbetide me, " said he, "if thou returnest here until thou knowestwhether I have lost my strength so completely as thou didst say. And if it be so, it will then be easy for thee to seek the societythou didst wish for of him of whom thou wast thinking. " So shearose, and clothed herself in her meanest garments. "I knownothing, lord, " said she, "of thy meaning. " "Neither wilt thouknow at this time, " said he. 

Then Geraint went to see Erbin. "Sir, " said he, "I am going upon aquest, and I am not certain when I may come back. Take heed, therefore, unto thy possessions until my return. " "I will do so, "said he; "but it is strange to me that thou shouldst go sosuddenly. And who will proceed with thee, since thou art notstrong enough to traverse the land of Loegyr alone?" "But oneperson only will go with me. " "Heaven counsel thee, my son, " saidErbin, "and may many attach themselves to thee in Loegyr. " Thenwent Geraint to the place where his horse was, and it was equippedwith foreign armor, heavy and shining. And he desired Enid tomount her horse, and to ride forward, and to keep a long waybefore him. "And whatever thou mayst see, and whatever thou maysthear concerning me, " said he, "do thou not turn back. And unless Ispeak unto thee, say not thou one word, either. " So they setforward. And he did not choose the pleasantest and most frequentedroad, but that which was the wildest and most beset by thieves androbbers and venomous animals. 

And they came to a high road, which they followed till they saw avast forest; and they saw four armed horsemen come forth from theforest. When the armed men saw them, they said one to another. "Here is a good occasion for us to capture two horses and armor, and a lady likewise; for this we shall have no difficulty in doingagainst yonder single knight who hangs his head so pensively andheavily. " Enid heard this discourse, and she knew not what sheshould do through fear of Geraint, who had told her to be silent. "The vengeance of Heaven be upon me, " said she, "if I would notrather receive my death from his hand than from the hand of anyother; and though he should slay me, yet will I speak to him, lestI should have the misery to witness his death. " So she waited forGeraint until he came near to her. "Lord, " said she, "didst thouhear the words of those men concerning thee?" Then he lifted uphis eyes, and looked at her angrily. "Thou hadst only, " said he, "to hold thy peace as I bade thee. I wish but for silence, and notfor warning. And though thou shouldst desire to see my defeat andmy death by the hands of those men, yet do I feel no dread. " Thenthe foremost of them couched his lance, and rushed upon Geraint. And he received him, and that not feebly. But he let the thrust goby him, while he struck the horseman upon the centre of hisshield, in such a manner that his shield was split, and his armorbroken, so that a cubit's length of the shaft of Geraint's lancepassed through his body, and sent him to the earth, the length ofthe lance over his horse's crupper. Then the second horsemanattacked him furiously, being wroth at the death of his companion. But with one thrust Geraint overthrew him also, and killed him ashe had done the other. Then the third set upon him, and he killedhim in like manner. And thus also he slew the fourth. Sad andsorrowful was the maiden as she saw all this. Geraint dismountedhis horse, and took the arms of the men he had slain, and placedthem upon their saddles, and tied together the reins of theirhorses; and he mounted his horse again. "Behold what thou mustdo, " said he; "take the four horses and drive them before thee, and proceed forward as I bade thee just now. And say not one wordunto me, unless I speak first unto thee. And I declare untoHeaven, " said he, "if thou doest not thus, it will be to thycost. " "I will do as far as I can, lord, " said she, "according tothy desire. "

So the maiden went forward, keeping in advance of Geraint, as hehad desired her; and it grieved him as much as his wrath wouldpermit, to see a maiden so illustrious as she having so muchtrouble with the care of the horses. Then they reached a wood, andit was both deep and vast, and in the wood night overtook them. "Ah, maiden, " said he, "it is vain to attempt proceeding forward. ""Well, lord, " said she, "whatever thou wishest, we will do. " "Itwill be best for us, " he answered, "to rest and wait for the day, in order to pursue our journey. " "That we will, gladly, " said she. And they did so. Having dismounted himself, he took her down fromher horse. "I cannot by any means refrain from sleep, throughweariness, " said he; "do thou therefore watch the horses, andsleep not. " "I will, lord, " said she. Then he went to sleep in hisarmor, and thus passed the night, which was not long at thatseason. And when she saw the dawn of day appear, she looked aroundher to see if he were waking, and thereupon he woke. Then hearose, and said unto her, "Take the horses and ride on, and keepstraight on as thou didst yesterday. " And they left the wood, andthey came to an open country, with meadows on one hand, and mowersmowing the meadows. And there was a river before them, and thehorses bent down and drank of the water. And they went up out ofthe river by a lofty steep; and there they met a slender striplingwith a satchel about his neck, and they saw that there wassomething in the satchel, but they knew not what it was. And hehad a small blue pitcher in his hand, and a bowl on the mouth ofthe pitcher. And the youth saluted Geraint. "Heaven prosper thee!"said Geraint; "and whence dost thou come?" "I come, " said he, "from the city that lies before thee. My lord, " he added, "will itbe displeasing to thee if I ask whence thou comest also?" "By nomeans; through yonder wood did I come. " "Thou camest not throughthe wood to-day. " "No, " he replied, "we were in the wood lastnight. " "I warrant, " said the youth, "that thy condition therelast night was not the most pleasant, and that thou hadst neithermeat nor drink. " "No, by my faith, " said he. "Wilt thou follow mycounsel, " said the youth, "and take thy meal from me?" "What sortof meal?" he inquired. "The breakfast which is sent for yondermowers, nothing less than bread and meat and wine, and if thouwilt, sir, they shall have none of it. " "I will, " said he, "andHeaven reward thee for it. "

So Geraint alighted, and the youth took the maiden from off herhorse. Then they washed, and took their repast. And the youth cutthe bread in slices, and gave them drink, and served them withal. And when they had finished, the youth arose and said to Geraint, "My lord, with thy permission, I will now go and fetch some foodfor the mowers. " "Go first to the town, " said Geraint, "and take alodging for me in the best place that thou knowest, and the mostcommodious one for the horses; and take thou whichever horse andarms thou choosest, in payment for thy service and thy gift. ""Heaven reward thee, lord!" said the youth; "and this would beample to repay services much greater than those I have renderedunto thee. " And to the town went the youth, and he took the bestand the most pleasant lodgings that he knew; and after that hewent to the palace, having the horse and armor with him, andproceeded to the place where the earl was, and told him all hisadventure. "I go now, lord, " said he, "to meet the knight, and toconduct him to his lodging. " "Go, gladly, " said the earl; "andright joyfully shall he be received here, if he so come. " And theyouth went to meet Geraint, and told him that he would be receivedgladly by the earl in his own palace; but he would go only to hislodgings. And he had a goodly chamber, in which was plenty ofstraw and drapery, and a spacious and commodious place he had forthe horses; and the youth prepared for them plenty of provender. After they had disarrayed themselves, Geraint spoke thus to Enid:"Go, " said he, "to the other side of the chamber, and come not tothis side of the house; and thou mayst call to thee the woman ofthe house, if thou wilt. " "I will do, lord, " said she, "as thousayest. " Thereupon the man of the house came to Geraint andwelcomed him. And after they had eaten and drank, Geraint went tosleep, and so did Enid also. 

In the evening, behold, the earl came to visit Geraint, and histwelve honorable knights with him. And Geraint rose up andwelcomed him. Then they all sat down according to their precedencein honor. And the earl conversed with Geraint, and inquired of himthe object of his journey. "I have none, " he replied, "but to seekadventures and to follow mine own inclination. " Then the earl casthis eye upon Enid, and he looked at her steadfastly. And hethought he had never seen a maiden fairer or more comely than she. And he set all his thoughts and his affections upon her. Then heasked of Geraint, "Have I thy permission to go and converse withyonder maiden, for I see that she is apart from thee?" "Thou hastit gladly, " said he. So the earl went to the place where themaiden was, and spake with her. "Ah! maiden, " said he, "it cannotbe pleasant to thee to journey with yonder man. " "It is notunpleasant to me, " said she. "Thou hast neither youths nor maidensto serve thee, " said he. "Truly, " she replied, "it is morepleasant for me to follow yonder man, than to be served by youthsand maidens. " "I will give thee good counsel, " said he: "all myearldom will I place in thy possession, if thou wilt dwell withme. "

 "Enid, the pilot star of my lone life, Enid, my early and my only love. "

 --Enid. 

"That will I not, by Heaven, " she said; "yonder man was the firstto whom my faith was ever pledged; and shall I prove inconstant tohim?" "Thou art in the wrong, " said the earl; "if I slay the manyonder, I can keep thee with me as long as I choose; and when thouno longer pleasest me, I can turn thee away. But if thou goestwith me by thy own good-will, I protest that our union shallcontinue as long as I remain alive. " Then she pondered those wordsof his, and she considered that it was advisable to encourage himin his request. "Behold then, chieftain, this is most expedientfor thee to do to save me from all reproach; come here to-morrowand take me away as though I knew nothing thereof. " "I will doso, " said he. So he arose and took his leave, and went forth withhis attendants. And she told not then to Geraint any of theconversation which she had had with the earl, lest it should rousehis anger, and cause him uneasiness and care. 

And at the usual hour they went to sleep. And at the beginning ofthe night Enid slept a little; and at midnight she arose, andplaced all Geraint's armor together so that it might be ready toput on. And although fearful of her errand, she came to the sideof Geraint's bed; and she spoke to him softly and gently, saying, "My lord, arise, and clothe thyself, for these were the words ofthe earl to me and his intention concerning me. " So she toldGeraint all that had passed. And although he was wroth with her, he took warning, and clothed himself. And she lighted a candle, that he might have light to do so. "Leave there the candle, " saidhe, "and desire the man of the house to come here. " Then she went, and the man of the house came to him. "Dost thou know how much Iowe thee?" asked Geraint. "I think thou owest but little. " "Takethe three horses and the three suits of armor. " "Heaven rewardthee, lord, " said he, "but I spent not the value of one suit ofarmor upon thee. " "For that reason, " said he, "thou wilt be thericher. And now, wilt thou come to guide me out of the town?" "Iwill gladly, " said he; "and in which direction dost thou intend togo?" "I wish to leave the town by a different way from that bywhich I entered it. " So the man of the lodgings accompanied him asfar as he desired. Then he bade the maiden to go on before him, and she did so, and went straight forward, and his host returnedhome. 

And Geraint and the maiden went forward along the high-road. Andas they journeyed thus, they heard an exceeding loud wailing nearto them. "Stay thou here, " said he, "and I will go and see what isthe cause of this wailing. " "I will, " said she. Then he wentforward into an open glade that was near the road. And in theglade he saw two horses, one having a man's saddle, and the othera woman's saddle upon it. And behold there was a knight lying deadin his armor, and a young damsel in a riding-dress standing overhim lamenting. "Ah, lady, " said Geraint, "what hath befallenthee?" "Behold, " she answered, "I journeyed here with my belovedhusband, when lo! three giants came upon us, and without any causein the world, they slew him. " "Which way went they hence?" saidGeraint. "Yonder by the high-road, " she replied. So he returned toEnid. "Go, " said he, "to the lady that is below yonder, and awaitme there till I come. " She was sad when he ordered her to do thus, but nevertheless she went to the damsel, whom it was ruth to hear, and she felt certain that Geraint would never return. 

Meanwhile Geraint followed the giants, and overtook them. And eachof them was greater in stature than three other men, and a hugeclub was on the shoulder of each. Then he rushed upon one of them, and thrust his lance through his body. And having drawn it forthagain, he pierced another of them through likewise. But the thirdturned upon him and struck him with his club so that he split hisshield and crushed his shoulder. But Geraint drew his sword andgave the giant a blow on the crown of his head, so severe, andfierce, and violent, that his head and his neck were split down tohis shoulders, and he fell dead. So Geraint left him thus andreturned to Enid. And when he reached the place where she was hefell down lifeless from his horse. Piercing and loud and thrillingwas the cry that Enid uttered. And she came and stood over himwhere he had fallen. And at the sound of her cries came the Earlof Limours, and they who journeyed with him, whom her lamentationsbrought out of their road. And the earl said to Enid, "Alas, lady, what hath befallen thee?" "Ah, good sir, " said she, "the only manI have loved, or ever shall love, is slain. " Then he said to theother, "And what is the cause of thy grief?" "They have slain mybeloved husband also, " said she. "And who was it that slew them?""Some giants, " she answered, "slew my best-beloved, and the otherknight went in pursuit of them, and came back in the state thouseest. " The earl caused the knight that was dead to be buried, buthe thought that there still remained some life in Geraint; and tosee if he yet would live, he had him carried with him in thehollow of his shield, and upon a bier. And the two damsels went tothe court; and when they arrived there, Geraint was placed upon alittle couch in front of the table that was in the hall. Then theyall took off their traveling-gear, and the earl besought Enid todo the same, and to clothe herself in other garments. "I will not, by Heaven, " said she. "Ah, lady, " said he, "be not so sorrowfulfor this matter. " "It were hard to persuade me to be otherwise, "said she. "I will act towards thee in such wise that thou needestnot be sorrowful, whether yonder knight live or die. Behold, agood earldom, together with myself, will I bestow upon thee; betherefore happy and joyful. " "I declare to Heaven, " said she, "that henceforth I shall never be joyful while I live. " "Come, "said he, "and eat. " "No, by Heaven, I will not. " "But, by Heaven, thou shalt, " said he. So he took her with him to the table againsther will, and many times desired her to eat. "I call Heaven towitness, " said she, "that I will not until the man that is uponyonder bier shall eat likewise. " "Thou canst not fulfil that, "said the earl, "yonder man is dead already. " "I will prove that Ican, " said she. Then he offered her a goblet of liquor. "Drinkthis goblet, " he said, "and it will cause thee to change thymind. " "Evil betide me, " she answered, "if I drink aught until hedrink also. " "Truly, " said the earl, "it is of no more avail forme to be gentle with thee than ungentle. " And he gave her a box inthe ear. Thereupon she raised a loud and piercing shriek, and herlamentations were much greater than they had been before; for sheconsidered in her mind, that, had Geraint been alive, he durst nothave struck her thus. But, behold, at the sound of her cry, Geraint revived from his swoon, and he sat upon the bier; andfinding his sword in the hollow of his shield, he rushed to theplace where the earl was, and struck him a fiercely-wounding, severely-venomous, and sternly-smiting blow upon the crown of hishead, so that he clove him in twain, until his sword was staid bythe table. Then all left the board and fled away. And this was notso much through fear of the living, as through the dread they feltat seeing the dead man rise up to slay them. And Geraint lookedupon Enid, and he was grieved for two causes; one was to see thatEnid had lost her color and her wonted aspect; and the other, toknow that she was in the right. "Lady, " said he, "knowest thouwhere our horses are?" "I know, lord, where thy horse is, " shereplied, "but I know not where is the other. Thy horse is in thehouse yonder. " So he went to the house, and brought forth hishorse, and mounted him, and took up Enid, and placed her upon thehorse with him. And he rode forward. And their road lay betweentwo hedges; and the night was gaining on the day. And lo! they sawbehind them the shafts of spears betwixt them and the sky, andthey heard the tramping of horses, and the noise of a hostapproaching. "I hear something following us, " said he, "and I willput thee on the other side of the hedge. " And thus he did. Andthereupon, behold a knight pricked towards him, and couched hislance. When Enid saw this, she cried out, saying, "O chieftain, whoever thou art, what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a deadman?" "O Heaven!" said he, "is it Geraint?" "Yes, in truth, " saidshe; "and who art thou?" "I am Gwiffert Petit, " said he, "thyhusband's ally, coming to thy assistance, for I heard that thouwast in trouble. Come with me to the court of a son-in-law of mysister, which is near here, and thou shalt have the best medicalassistance in the kingdom. " "I will do so gladly, " said Geraint. And Enid was placed upon the horse of one of Gwiffert's squires, and they went forward to the baron's palace. And they werereceived there with gladness, and they met with hospitality andattention. The next morning they went to seek physicians; and itwas not long before they came, and they attended Geraint until hewas perfectly well. And while Geraint was under medical careGwiffert caused his armor to be repaired, until it was as good asit had ever been. And they remained there a month and a fortnight. Then they separated, and Geraint went towards his own dominions, and thenceforth he reigned prosperously, and his warlike fame andsplendor lasted with renown and honor, both to him and to Enid, from that time forward. 

[Footnote: Throughout the broad and varied region of romance itwould be difficult to find a character of greater simplicity andtruth than that of Enid, the daughter of Earl Ynywl. Conspicuousfor her beauty and noble bearing, we are at a loss whether more toadmire the patience with which she bore all the hardships she wasdestined to undergo or the constancy and affection which finallyachieved the truimph she so richly deserved. 

The character of Enid is admirably sustained through the wholetale; and as it is more natural, because less overstrained, soperhaps it is even more touching than that of Griselda, overwhich, however, Chaucer has thrown a charm that leads us to forgetthe improbability of her story. ]

CHAPTER VIII

PWYLL, PRINCE OF DYVED

Once upon a time Pwyll was at Narberth, his chief palace, where afeast had been prepared for him, and with him was a great host ofmen. And after the first meal Pwyll arose to walk; and he went tothe top of a mound that was above the palace, and was calledGorsedd Arberth. "Lord, " said one of the court, "it is peculiar tothe mound that whosoever sits upon it cannot go thence withouteither receiving wounds or blows, or else seeing a wonder. " "Ifear not to receive wounds or blows, " said Pwyll; "but as to thewonder, gladly would I see it. I will therefore go and sit uponthe mound. "

And upon the mound he sat. And while he sat there, they saw alady, on a pure white horse of large size, with a garment ofshining gold around her, coming along the highway that led fromthe mound. "My men, " said Pwyll, "is there any among you who knowsyonder lady?" "There is not, lord, " said they. "Go one of you andmeet her, that we may know who she is. " And one of them arose, andas he came upon the road to meet her, she passed by; and hefollowed as fast as he could, being on foot, and the greater washis speed, the further was she from him. And when he saw that itprofited him nothing to follow her, he returned to Pwyll, and saidunto him, "Lord, it is idle for any one in the world to follow heron foot. " "Verily, " said Pwyll, "go unto the palace, and take thefleetest horse that thou seest, and go after her. "

And he took a horse and went forward. And he came to an open, level plain, and put spurs to his horse; and the more he urged hishorse, the further was she from him. And he returned to the placewhere Pwyll was, and said, "Lord, it will avail nothing for anyone to follow yonder lady. I know of no horse in these realmsswifter than this, and it availed me not to pursue her. " "Of atruth, " said Pwyll, "there must be some illusion here; let us gotowards the palace. " So to the palace they went, and spent theday. 

And the next day they amused themselves until it was time to go tomeat. And when meat was ended, Pwyll said, "Where are the hoststhat went yesterday to the top of the mound?" "Behold, lord, weare here, " said they. "Let us go, " said he, "to the mound, and sitthere. And do thou, " said he to the page who tended his horse, "saddle my horse well, and hasten with him to the road, and bringalso my spurs with thee. " And the youth did thus. And they wentand sat upon the mound; and ere they had been there but a shorttime, they beheld the lady coming by the same road, and in thesame manner, and at the same pace. "Young man, " said Pwyll, "I seethe lady coming; give me my horse. " And before he had mounted hishorse she passed him. And he turned after her and followed her. And he let his horse go bounding playfully, and thought that heshould soon come up with her. But he came no nearer to her than atfirst. Then he urged his horse to his utmost speed, yet he foundthat it availed not. Then said Pwyll, "O maiden, for the sake ofhim whom thou best lovest, stay for me. " "I will stay gladly, "said she; "and it were better for thy horse hadst thou asked itlong since. " So the maiden stopped; and she threw back that partof her head-dress which covered her face. Then he thought that thebeauty of all the maidens and all the ladies that he had ever seenwas as nothing compared to her beauty. "Lady, " he said, "wilt thoutell me aught concerning thy purpose?" "I will tell thee, " saidshe; "my chief quest was to see thee. " "Truly, " said Pwyll, "thisis to me the most pleasing quest on which thou couldst have come;and wilt thou tell me who thou art?" "I will tell thee, lord, "said she. "I am Rhiannon, the daughter of Heveydd, and they soughtto give me a husband against my will. But no husband would I have, and that because of my love for thee; neither will I yet have one, unless thou reject me; and hither have I come to hear thy answer. ""By Heaven, " said Pwyll, "behold this is my answer. If I mightchoose among all the ladies and damsels in the world, thee would Ichoose. " "Verily, " said she, "if thou art thus minded, make apledge to meet me ere I am given to another. " "The sooner I may doso, the more pleasing will it be to me, " said Pwyll; "andwheresoever thou wilt, there will I meet with thee. " "I will thatthou meet me this day twelvemonth at the palace of Heveydd. ""Gladly, " said he, "will I keep this tryst. " So they parted, andhe went back to his hosts, and to them of his household. Andwhatsoever questions they asked him respecting the damsel, healways turned the discourse upon other matters. 

And when a year from that time was gone, he caused a hundredknights to equip themselves, and to go with him to the palace ofHeveydd. And he came to the palace, and there was great joyconcerning him, with much concourse of people, and greatrejoicing, and vast preparations for his coming. And the wholecourt was placed under his orders. 

And the hall was garnished, and they went to meat, and thus didthey sit: Heveydd was on one side of Pwyll, and Rhiannon on theother; and all the rest according to their rank. And they ate andfeasted, and talked one with another. And at the beginning of thecarousal after the meat, there entered a tall, auburn-hairedyouth, of royal bearing, clothed in a garment of satin. And whenhe came into the hall, he saluted Pwyll and his companions. "Thegreeting of Heaven be unto thee, " said Pwyll; "come thou and sitdown. " "Nay, " said he, "a suitor am I, and I will do my errand. ""Do so willingly, " said Pwyll. "Lord, " said he, "my errand is untothee, and it is to crave a boon of thee that I come. " "What boonsoever thou mayest ask of me, so far as I am able, thou shalthave. " "Ah!" said Rhiannon, "wherefore didst thou give thatanswer?" "Has he not given it before the presence of thesenobles?" asked the youth. "My soul, " said Pwyll, "what is the boonthou askest?" "The lady whom best I love is to be thy bride thisnight; I come to ask her of thee, with the feast and the banquetthat are in this place. " And Pwyll was silent, because of thepromise which he had given. "Be silent as long as thou wilt, " saidRhiannon, "never did man make worse use of his wits than thou hastdone. " "Lady, " said he, "I knew not who he was. " "Behold, this isthe man to whom they would have given me against my will, " saidshe; "and he is Gawl, the son of Clud, a man of great power andwealth, and because of the word thou hast spoken, bestow me uponhim, lest shame befall thee. " "Lady, " said he, "I understand notthy answer; never can I do as thou sayest. " "Bestow me upon him, "said she, "and I will cause that I shall never be his. " "By whatmeans will that be?" asked Pwyll. Then she told him the thoughtthat was in her mind. And they talked long together. Then Gawlsaid, "Lord, it is meet that I have an answer to my request. " "Asmuch of that thou hast asked as it is in my power to give, thoushalt have, " replied Pwyll. "My soul, " said Rhiannon unto Gawl, "as for the feast and the banquet that are here, I have bestowedthem upon the men of Dyved, and the household and the warriorsthat are with us. These can I not suffer to be given to any. In ayear from to-night, a banquet shall be prepared for thee in thispalace, that I may become thy bride. "

So Gawl went forth to his possessions, and Pwyll went also back toDyved. And they both spent that year until it was the time for thefeast at the palace of Heveydd. Then Gawl, the son of Clud, setout to the feast that was prepared for him; and he came to thepalace, and was received there with rejoicing. Pwyll, also, thechief of Dyved, came to the orchard with a hundred knights, asRhiannon had commanded him. And Pwyll was clad in coarse andragged garments, and wore large, clumsy old shoes upon his feet. And when he knew that the carousal after the meat had begun, hewent toward the hall; and when he came into the hall he salutedGawl, the son of Clud, and his company, both men and women. "Heaven prosper thee, " said Gawl, "and friendly greeting be untothee!" "Lord, " said he, "may Heaven reward thee! I have an errandunto thee. " "Welcome be thine errand, and if thou ask of me thatwhich is right, thou shalt have it gladly. " "It is fitting, "answered he; "I crave but from want, and the boon I ask is to havethis small bag that thou seest filled with meat. " "A requestwithin reason is this, " said he, "and gladly shalt thou have it. Bring him food. " A great number of attendants arose and began tofill the bag; but for all they put into it, it was no fuller thanat first. "My soul, " said Gawl, "will thy bag ever be full?" "Itwill not, I declare to Heaven, " said he, "for all that may be putinto it, unless one possessed of lands, and domains, and treasure, shall arise and tread down with both his feet the food that iswithin the bag, and shall say, 'Enough has been put therein. '"Then said Rhiannon unto Gawl, the son of Clud, "Rise up quickly. ""I will willingly arise, " said he. So he rose up, and put his twofeet into the bag. And Pwyll turned up the sides of the bag, sothat Gawl was over his head in it. And he shut it up quickly, andslipped a knot upon the thongs, and blew his horn. And thereupon, behold, his knights came down upon the palace. And they seized allthe host that had come with Gawl, and cast them into his ownprison. And Pwyll threw off his rags, and his old shoes, and histattered array. And as they came in, every one of Pwyll's knightsstruck a blow upon the bag, and asked, "What is here?" "A badger, "said they. And in this manner they played, each of them strikingthe bag, either with his foot or with a staff. And thus playedthey with the bag. And then was the game of Badger in the Bagfirst played. 

"Lord, " said the man in the bag, "if thou wouldst but hear me, Imerit not to be slain in a bag. " Said Heveydd, "Lord, he speakstruth; it were fitting that thou listen to him, for he deservesnot this. " "Verily, " said Pwyll, "I will do thy counsel concerninghim. " "Behold, this is my counsel then, " said Rhiannon. "Thou artnow in a position in which it behooves thee to satisfy suitors andminstrels. Let him give unto them in thy stead, and take a pledgefrom him that he will never seek to revenge that which has beendone to him. And this will be punishment enough. " "I will do thisgladly, " said the man in the bag. "And gladly will I accept it, "said Pwyll, "since it is the counsel of Heveydd and Rhiannon. Seekthyself sureties. " "We will be for him, " said Heveydd, "until hismen be free to answer for him. " And upon this he was let out ofthe bag, and his liegemen were liberated. "Verily, lord, " saidGawl, "I am greatly hurt, and I have many bruises. With thy leave, I will go forth. I will leave nobles in my stead to answer for mein all that thou shalt require. " "Willingly, " said Pwyll, "mayestthou do this. " So Gawl went to his own possessions. 

And the hall was set in order for Pwyll and the men of his host, and for them also of the palace, and they went to the tables andsat down. And as they had sat that time twelvemonth, so sat theythat night. And they ate and feasted, and spent the night in mirthand tranquility. And the time came that they should sleep, andPwyll and Rhiannon went to their chamber. 

And next morning at break of day, "My lord, " said Rhiannon, "ariseand begin to give thy gifts unto the minstrels. Refuse no one to-day that may claim thy bounty. " "Thus shall it be gladly, " saidPwyll, "both to-day and every day while the feast shall last. " SoPwyll arose, and he caused silence to be proclaimed, and desiredall the suitors and minstrels to show and to point out what giftsthey desired. And this being done, the feast went on, and hedenied no one while it lasted. And when the feast was ended, Pwyllsaid unto Heveydd, "My lord, with thy permission, I will set outfor Dyved to-morrow. " "Certainly, " said Heveydd; "may Heavenprosper thee! Fix also a time when Rhiannon shall follow thee. ""By Heaven, " said Pwyll, "we will go hence together. " "Willestthou this, lord?" said Heveydd. "Yes, lord, " answered Pwyll. 

And the next, day they set forward towards Dyved, and journeyed tothe palace of Narberth, where a feast was made ready for them. Andthere came to them great numbers of the chief men and the mostnoble ladies of the land, and of these there were none to whomRhiannon did not give some rich gift, either a bracelet, or aring, or a precious stone. And they ruled the land prosperouslythat year and the next. 

CHAPTER IX

BRANWEN, THE DAUGHTER OF LLYR

Bendigeid Vran, the son of Llyr, was the crowned king of thisisland, and he was exalted from the crown of London. And oneafternoon he was at Harlech, in Ardudwy, at his court; and he satupon the rock of Harlech, looking over the sea. And with him werehis brother, Manawyddan, the son of Llyr, and his brothers by themother's side, Nissyen and Evnissyen, and many nobles likewise, aswas fitting to see around a king. His two brothers by the mother'sside were the sons of Euroswydd, and one of these youths was agood youth, and of gentle nature, and would make peace between hiskindred, and cause his family to be friends when their wrath wasat the highest, and this one was Nissyen; but the other wouldcause strife between his two brothers when they were most atpeace. And as they sat thus they beheld thirteen ships coming fromthe south of Ireland, and making towards them; and they came witha swift motion, the wind being behind them; and they neared themrapidly. "I see ships afar, " said the king, "coming swiftlytowards the land. Command the men of the court that they equipthemselves, and go and learn their intent. " So the men equippedthemselves, and went down towards them. And when they saw theships near, certain were they that they had never seen shipsbetter furnished. Beautiful flags of satin were upon them. And, behold, one of the ships outstripped the others, and they saw ashield lifted up above the side of the ship, and the point of theshield was upwards, in token of peace. And the men drew near, thatthey might hold converse. Then they put out boats, and came towardthe land. And they saluted the king. Now the king could hear themfrom the place where he was upon the rock above their heads. "Heaven prosper you. " said he, "and be ye welcome! To whom dothese ships belong, and who is the chief amongst you?" "Lord, "said they, "Matholch, king of Ireland, is here, and these shipsbelong to him. " "Wherefore comes he?" asked the king, "and will hecome to the land?" "He is a suitor unto thee, lord, " said they, "and he will not land unless he have his boon. " "And what may thatbe?" inquired the king. "He desires to ally himself, lord, withthee, " said they, "and he comes to ask Branwen, the daughter ofLlyr, that, if it seem well to thee, the Island of the Mighty[Footnote: The Island of the Mighty is one of the many namesbestowed upon Britain by the Welsh. ] may be leagued with Ireland, and both become more powerful. " "Verily, " said he, "let him cometo land, and we will take counsel thereupon. " And this answer wasbrought to Matholch. "I will go willingly, " said he. So he landed, and they received him joyfully; and great was the throng in thepalace that night, between his hosts and those of the court; andnext day they took counsel, and they resolved to bestow Branwenupon Matholch. Now she was one of the three chief ladies of thisisland, and she was the fairest damsel in the world. 

And they fixed upon Aberfraw as the place where she should becomehis bride. And they went thence, and towards Aberfraw the hostsproceeded, Matholch and his host in their ships, Bendigeid Vranand his host by land, until they came to Aberfraw. And at Aberfrawthey began the feast, and sat down. And thus sat they: the king ofthe Island of the Mighty and Manawyddan, the son of Llyr, on oneside, and Matholch on the other side, and Branwen, the daughter ofLlyr, beside him. And they were not within a house, but undertents. No house could ever contain Bendigeid Vran. And they beganthe banquet, and caroused and discoursed. And when it was morepleasing to them to sleep than to carouse, they went to rest, andBranwen became Matholch's bride. 

And next day they arose, and all they of the court, and theofficers began to equip, and to range the horses and theattendants, and they ranged them in order as far as the sea. 

And, behold, one day Evnissyen, the quarrelsome man, of whom it isspoken above, came by chance into the place where the horses ofMatholch were, and asked whose horses they might be. "They are thehorses of Matholch, king of Ireland, who is married to Branwen, thy sister; his horses are they. " "And is it thus they have donewith a maiden such as she, and moreover my sister, bestowing herwithout my consent? They could have offered no greater insult tome than this, " said he. And thereupon he rushed under the horses, and cut off their lips at the teeth, and their ears close to theirheads, and their tails close to their backs; and he disfigured thehorses, and rendered them useless. 

And they came with these tidings unto Matholch, saying that thehorses were disfigured and injured, so that not one of them couldever be of any use again. "Verily, lord, " said one, "it was aninsult unto thee, and as such was it meant. " "Of a truth, it is amarvel to me that, if they desire to insult me, they should havegiven me a maiden of such high rank, and so much beloved of herkindred, as they have done. " "Lord, " said another, "thou seestthat thus it is, and there is nothing for thee to do but to go tothy ships. " And thereupon towards his ships he set out. 

And tidings came to Bendigeid Vran that Matholch was quitting thecourt without asking leave, and messengers were sent to inquire ofhim wherefore he did so. And the messengers that went were Iddic, the son of Anarawd, and Heveyd Hir. And these overtook him, andasked of him what he designed to do, and wherefore he went forth. "Of a truth, " said he, "if I had known, I had not come hither. Ihave been altogether insulted; no one had ever worse treatmentthan I have had here. " "Truly, lord, it was not the will of anythat are of the court, " said they, "nor of any that are of thecouncil, that thou shouldst have received this insult; and as thouhast been insulted, the dishonor is greater unto Bendigeid Vranthan unto thee. " "Verily, " said he, "I think so. Nevertheless, hecannot recall the insult. " These men returned with that answer tothe place where Bendigeid Vran was, and they told him what replyMatholch had given them. "Truly, " said he, "there are no means bywhich we may prevent his going away at enmity with us that we willnot take. " "Well, lord, " said they, "send after him anotherembassy. " "I will do so, " said he. "Arise, Manawyddan, son ofLlyr, and Heveyd Hir, and go after him, and tell him that he shallhave a sound horse for every one that has been injured. And besidethat, as an atonement for the insult, he shall have a staff ofsilver as large and as tall as himself, and a plate of gold of thebreadth of his face. And show unto him who it was that did this, and that it was done against my will; but that he who did it is mybrother, and therefore it would be hard for me to put him todeath. And let him come and meet me, " said he, "and we will makepeace in any way he may desire. "

The embassy went after Matholch, and told him all these sayings ina friendly manner; and he listened thereunto. "Men, " said he, "Iwill take counsel. " So to the council he went. And in the councilthey considered that, if they should refuse this, they were likelyto have more shame rather than to obtain so great an atonement. They resolved, therefore, to accept it, and they returned to thecourt in peace. 

Then the pavilions and the tents were set in order, after thefashion of a hall; and they went to meat, and as they had sat atthe beginning of the feast so sat they there. And Matholch andBendigeid Vran began to discourse; and, behold, it seemed toBendigeid Vran, while they talked, that Matholch was not socheerful as he had been before. And he thought that the chieftainmight be sad because of the smallness of the atonement which hehad for the wrong that had been done him. "O man, " said BendigeidVran, "thou dost not discourse to-night so cheerfully as thou wastwont. And if it be because of the smallness of the atonement, thoushalt add thereunto whatsoever thou mayest choose, and to-morrow Iwill pay thee for the horses. " "Lord, " said he, "Heaven rewardthee!" "And I will enhance the atonement, " said Bendigeid Vran, "for I will give unto thee a caldron, the property of which is, that if one of thy men be slain to-day, and be cast therein, to-morrow he will be as well as ever he was at the best, except thathe will not regain his speech. " And thereupon he gave him greatthanks, and very joyful was he for that cause. 

That night they continued to discourse as much as they would, andhad minstrelsy and carousing; and when it was more pleasant tothem to sleep than to sit longer, they went to rest. And thus wasthe banquet carried on with joyousness; and when it was finished, Matholch journeyed towards Ireland, and Branwen with him; and theywent from Aber Menei with thirteen ships, and came to Ireland. Andin Ireland was there great joy because of their coming. And notone great man nor noble lady visited Branwen unto whom she gavenot either a clasp or a ring, or a royal jewel to keep, such as itwas honorable to be seen departing with. And in these things shespent that year in much renown, and she passed her timepleasantly, enjoying honor and friendship. And in due time a sonwas born unto her, and the name that they gave him was Gwern, theson of Matholch, and they put the boy out to be nursed in a placewhere were the best men of Ireland. 

And, behold, in the second year a tumult arose in Ireland, onaccount of the insult which Matholch had received in Wales, andthe payment made him for his horses. And his foster-brothers, andsuch as were nearest to him, blamed him openly for that matter. And he might have no peace by reason of the tumult, until theyshould revenge upon him this disgrace. And the vengeance whichthey took was to drive away Branwen from the same chamber withhim, and to make her cook for the court; and they caused thebutcher, after he had cut up the meat, to come to her and give herevery day a blow on the ear; and such they made her punishment. 

"Verily, lord, " said his men to Matholch, "forbid now the shipsand the ferry-boats, and the coracles, that they go not intoWales, and such as come over from Wales hither, imprison them, that they go not back for this thing to be known there. " And hedid so; and it was thus for no less than three years. 

And Branwen reared a starling in the cover of the kneading-trough, and she taught it to speak, and she taught the bird what manner ofman her brother was. And she wrote a letter of her woes, and thedespite with which she was treated, and she bound the letter tothe root of the bird's wing, and sent it toward Wales. And thebird came to that island; and one day it found Bendigeid Vran atCaer Seiont in Arvon, conferring there, and it alighted upon hisshoulder, and ruffled its feathers, so that the letter was seen, and they knew that the bird had been reared in a domestic manner. 

Then Bendigeid Vran took the letter and looked upon it. And whenhe had read the letter, he grieved exceedingly at the tidings ofBranwen's woes. And immediately he began sending messengers tosummon the island together. And he caused seven-score and four ofhis chief men to come unto him, and he complained to them of thegrief that his sister endured. So they took counsel. And in thecounsel they resolved to go to Ireland, and to leave seven men asprinces at home, and Caradoc, [Footnote: Caractacus. ] the son ofBran, as the chief of them. 

Bendigeid Vran, with the host of which we spoke, sailed towardsIreland; and it was not far across the sea, and he came to shoalwater. Now the swine-herds of Matholch were upon the sea-shore, and they came to Matholch. "Lord, " said they, "greeting be untothee. " "Heaven protect you!" said he; "have you any news?" "Lord, "said they, "we have marvellous news. A wood have we seen upon thesea, in a place where we never yet saw a single tree. " "This isindeed a marvel, " said he; "saw you aught else?" "We saw, lord, "said they, "a vast mountain beside the wood, which moved, andthere was a lofty ridge on the top of the mountain, and a lake oneach side of the ridge. And the wood and the mountain, and allthese things, moved. " "Verily, " said he, "there is none who canknow aught concerning this unless it be Branwen. "

Messengers then went unto Branwen. "Lady, " said they, "whatthinkest thou that this is?" "The men of the Island of the Mighty, who have come hither on hearing of my ill-treatment and of mywoes. " "What is the forest that is seen upon the sea?" asked they. "The yards and the masts of ships, " she answered. "Alas!" saidthey; "what is the mountain that is seen by the side of theships?" "Bendigeid Vran, my brother, " she replied, "coming toshoal water, and he is wading to the land. " "What is the loftyridge, with the lake on each side thereof?" "On looking towardsthis island he is wroth, and his two eyes on each side of his noseare the two lakes on each side of the ridge. "

The warriors and chief men of Ireland were brought together inhaste, and they took counsel. "Lord, " said the neighbors untoMatholch, "there is no other counsel than this alone. Thou shaltgive the kingdom to Gwern, the son of Branwen his sister, as acompensation for the wrong and despite that have been done untoBranwen. And he will make peace with thee. " And in the council itwas resolved that this message should be sent to Bendigeid Vran, lest the country should be destroyed. And this peace was made. AndMatholch caused a great house to be built for Bendigeid Vran, andhis host. Thereupon came the hosts into the house. The men of theisland of Ireland entered the house on the one side, and the menof the Island of the Mighty on the other. And as soon as they hadsat down, there was concord between them; and the sovereignty wasconferred upon the boy. When the peace was concluded, BendigeidVran called the boy unto him, and from Bendigeid Vran the boy wentunto Manawyddan; and he was beloved by all that beheld him. Andfrom Manawyddan the boy was called by Nissyen, the son ofEuroswydd, and the boy went unto him lovingly. "Wherefore, " saidEvnissyen, "comes not my nephew, the son of my sister, unto me?Though he were not king of Ireland, yet willingly would I fondlethe boy. " "Cheerfully let him go to thee, " said Bendigeid Vran;and the boy went unto him cheerfully. "By my confession toHeaven, " said Evnissyen in his heart, "unthought of is theslaughter that I will this instant commit. "

Then he arose and took up the boy, and before any one in the housecould seize hold of him he thrust the boy headlong into theblazing fire. And when Branwen saw her son burning in the fire, she strove to leap into the fire also, from the place where shesat between her two brothers. But Bendigeid Vran grasped her withone hand, and his shield with the other. Then they all hurriedabout the house, and never was there made so great a tumult by anyhost in one house as was made by them, as each man armed himself. And while they all sought their arms Bendigeid Vran supportedBranwen between his shield and his shoulder. And they fought. 

Then the Irish kindled a fire under the caldron of renovation, andthey cast the dead bodies into the caldron until it was full; andthe next day they came forth fighting men, as good as before, except that they were not able to speak. Then when Evnissyen sawthe dead bodies of the men of the Island of the Mighty nowhereresuscitated, he said in his heart, "Alas! woe is me, that Ishould have been the cause of bringing the men of the Island ofthe Mighty into so great a strait. Evil betide me if I find not adeliverance therefrom. " And he cast himself among the dead bodiesof the Irish; and two unshod Irishmen came to him, and, taking himto be one of the Irish, flung him into the caldron. And hestretched himself out in the caldron, so that he rent the caldroninto four pieces, and burst his own heart also. 

In consequence of this, the men of the Island of the Mightyobtained such success as they had; but they were not victorious, for only seven men of them all escaped, and Bendigeid Vran himselfwas wounded in the foot with a poisoned dart. Now the men thatescaped were Pryderi, Manawyddan, Taliesin, and four others. 

And Bendigeid Vran commanded them that they should cut off hishead. "And take you my head, " said he, "and bear it even unto theWhite Mount in London, and bury it there with the face towardsFrance. And so long as it lies there, no enemy shall ever land onthe island. " So they cut off his head, and these seven wentforward therewith. And Branwen was the eighth with them. And theycame to land on Aber Alaw, and they sat down to rest. And Branwenlooked towards Ireland, and towards the Island of the Mighty, tosee if she could descry them. "Alas!" said she, "woe is me that Iwas ever born; two islands have been destroyed because of me. "Then she uttered a groan, and there broke her heart. And they madeher a four-sided grave, and buried her upon the banks of the Alaw. 

Then the seven men journeyed forward, bearing the head with them;and as they went, behold there met them a multitude of men andwomen. "Have you any tidings?" said Manawyddan. "We have none, "said they, "save that Caswallawn, [Footnote: Cassivellaunus. ] theson of Beli, has conquered the Island of the Mighty, and iscrowned king in London. " "What has become, " said they, "ofCaradoc, the son of Bran, and the seven men who were left with himin this island?" "Caswallawn came upon them, and slew six of themen, and Caradoc's heart broke for grief thereof. " And the sevenmen journeyed on towards London, and they buried the head in theWhite Mount, as Bendigeid Vran had directed them. [Footnote: Thereis a Triad upon the story of the head buried under the White Towerof London, as a charm against invasion. Arthur, it seems, proudlydisinterred the head, preferring to hold the island by his ownstrength alone. ]

CHAPTER X

MANAWYDDAN

Pwyll and Rhiannon had a son, whom they named Pryderi. And when hewas grown up, Pwyll, his father, died. And Pryderi married Kicva, the daughter of Gwynn Gloy. 

Now Manawyddan returned from the war in Ireland, and he found thathis cousin had seized all his possessions, and much grief andheaviness came upon him. "Alas! woe is me!" he exclaimed; "thereis none save myself without a home and a resting-place. " "Lord, "said Pryderi, "be not so sorrowful. Thy cousin is king of theIsland of the Mighty, and though he has done thee wrong, thou hastnever been a claimant of land or possessions. " "Yea, " answered he, "but although this man is my cousin, it grieveth me to see any onein the place of my brother, Bendigeid Vran; neither can I be happyin the same dwelling with him. " "Wilt thou follow the counsel ofanother?" said Pryderi. "I stand in need of counsel, " he answered, "and what may that counsel be?" "Seven cantrevs belong unto me, "said Pryderi, "wherein Rhiannon, my mother, dwells. I will bestowher upon thee, and the seven cantrevs with her; and though thouhadst no possessions but those cantrevs only, thou couldst nothave any fairer than they. Do thou and Rhiannon enjoy them, and ifthou desire any possessions thou wilt not despise these. " "I donot, chieftain, " said he. "Heaven reward thee for the friendship!I will go with thee to seek Rhiannon, and to look at thypossessions. " "Thou wilt do well, " he answered; "and I believethat thou didst never hear a lady discourse better than she, andwhen she was in her prime, none was ever fairer. Even now heraspect is not uncomely. "

They set forth, and, however long the journey, they came at lastto Dyved; and a feast was prepared for them by Rhiannon and Kicva. Then began Manawyddan and Rhiannon to sit and to talk together;and his mind and his thoughts became warmed towards her, and hethought in his heart he had never beheld any lady more fulfilledof grace and beauty than she. "Pryderi, " said he, "I will that itbe as thou didst say. " "What saying was that?" asked Rhiannon. "Lady, " said Pryderi, "I did offer thee as a wife to Manawyddan, the son of Llyr. " "By that will I gladly abide, " said Rhiannon. "Right glad am I also, " said Manawyddan, "may Heaven reward himwho hath shown unto me friendship so perfect as this!"

And before the feast was over she became his bride. Said Pryderi, "Tarry ye here the rest of the feast, and I will go into Englandto tender my homage unto Caswallawn, the son of Beli. " "Lord, "said Rhiannon, "Caswallawn is in Kent; thou mayest therefore tarryat the feast, and wait until he shall be nearer. " "We will wait, "he answered. So they finished the feast. And they began to makethe circuit of Dyved, and to hunt, and to take their pleasure. Andas they went through the country, they had never seen lands morepleasant to live in, nor better hunting grounds, nor greaterplenty of honey and fish. And such was the friendship betweenthese four, that they would not be parted from each other by nightnor by day. 

And in the midst of all this he went to Caswallawn at Oxford, andtendered his homage; and honorable was his reception there, andhighly was he praised for offering his homage. 

And after his return Pryderi and Manawyddan feasted and took theirease and pleasure. And they began a feast at Narberth, for it wasthe chief palace. And when they had ended the first meal, whilethose who served them ate, they arose and went forth, andproceeded to the Gorsedd, that is, the Mount of Narberth, andtheir retinue with them. And as they sat thus, behold a peal ofthunder, and with the violence of the thunder-storm, lo! therecame a fall of mist, so thick that not one of them could see theother. And after the mist it became light all around. And whenthey looked towards the place where they were wont to see thecattle and herds and dwellings, they saw nothing now, neitherhouse, nor beast, nor smoke, nor fire, nor man, nor dwelling, butthe buildings of the court empty, and desert, and uninhabited, without either man or beast within them. And truly all theircompanions were lost to them, without their knowing aught of whathad befallen them, save those four only. 

"In the name of Heaven, " said Manawyddan, "where are they of thecourt, and all my host beside? Let us go and see. "

So they came to the castle, and saw no man, and into the hall, andto the sleeping-place, and there was none; and in the mead-cellarand in the kitchen there was naught but desolation. Then theybegan to go through the land, and all the possessions that theyhad; and they visited the houses and dwellings, and found nothingbut wild beasts. And when they had consumed their feast and alltheir provisions, they fed upon the prey they killed in hunting, and the honey of the wild swans. 

And one morning Pryderi and Manawyddan rose up to hunt, and theyranged their dogs and went forth. And some of the dogs ran beforethem, and came to a bush which was near at hand; but as soon asthey were come to the bush, they hastily drew back, and returnedto the men, their hair bristling up greatly. "Let us go near tothe bush, " said Pryderi, "and see what is in it. " And as they camenear, behold, a wild boar of a pure white color rose up from thebush. Then the dogs, being set on by the men, rushed towards him;but he left the bush, and fell back a little way from the men, andmade a stand against the dogs, without retreating from them, untilthe men had come near. And when the men came up, he fell back asecond time, and betook him to flight. Then they pursued the boaruntil they beheld a vast and lofty castle, all newly built, in aplace where they had never before seen either stone or building. And the boar ran swiftly into the castle, and the dogs after him. Now when the boar and the dogs had gone into the castle, the menbegan to wonder at finding a castle in a place where they hadnever before seen any building whatsoever. And from the top of theGorsedd they looked and listened for the dogs. But so long as theywere there, they heard not one of the dogs, nor aught concerningthem. 

"Lord, " said Pryderi, "I will go into the castle to get tidings ofthe dogs. " "Truly, " he replied, "thou wouldst be unwise to go intothis castle, which thou hast never seen till now. If thou wouldstfollow my counsel, thou wouldst not enter therein. Whosoever hascast a spell over this land, has caused this castle to be here. ""Of a truth, " answered Pryderi, "I cannot thus give up my dogs. "And for all the counsel that Manawyddan gave him, yet to thecastle he went. 

When he came within the castle, neither man nor beast, nor boar, nor dogs, nor house, nor dwelling, saw he within it. But in thecentre of the castle-floor he beheld a fountain with marble-workaround it, and on the margin of the fountain a golden bowl upon amarble slab, and chains hanging from the air, to which he saw noend. 

And he was greatly pleased with the beauty of the gold, and withthe rich workmanship of the bowl; and he went up to the bowl, andlaid hold of it. And when he had taken hold of its his hands stuckto the bowl, and his feet to the slab on which the bowl wasplaced; and all his joyousness forsook him, so that he could notutter a word. And thus he stood. 

And Manawyddan waited for him till near the close of the day. Andlate in the evening, being certain that he should have no tidingsof Pryderi or the dogs, he went back to the palace. And as heentered, Rhiannon looked at him. "Where, " said she, "are thycompanion and thy dogs?" "Behold, " he answered, "the adventurethat has befallen me. " And he related it all unto her. "An evilcompanion hast thou been, " said Rhiannon, "and a good companionhast thou lost. " And with that word she went out, and proceededtowards the castle, according to the direction which he gave her. The gate of the castle she found open. She was nothing daunted, and she went in. And as she went in, she perceived Pryderi layinghold of the bowl, and she went towards him. "O my lord, " said she, "what dost thou here?" And she took hold of the bowl with him; andas she did so, her hands also became fast to the bowl, and herfeet to the slab, and she was not able to utter a word. And withthat, as it became night, lo! there came thunder upon them, and afall of mist; and thereupon the castle vanished, and they with it. 

When Kicva, the daughter of Gwynn Gloy, saw that there was no onein the palace but herself and Manawyddan, she sorrowed so that shecared not whether she lived or died. And Manawyddan saw this. "Thou art in the wrong, " said he, "if through fear of me thougrievest thus. I call Heaven to witness that thou hast never seenfriendship more pure than that which I will bear thee as long asHeaven will that thou shouldst be thus. I declare to thee, that, were I in the dawn of youth, I would keep my faith unto Pryderi, and unto thee also will I keep it. Be there no fear upon thee, therefore. " "Heaven reward thee!" she said; "and that is what Ideemed of thee. " And the damsel thereupon took courage, and wasglad. 

"Truly, lady, " said Manawyddan, "it is not fitting for us to stayhere; we have lost our dogs, and cannot get food. Let us go intoEngland; it is easiest for us to find support there. " "Gladly, lord, " said she, "we will do so. " And they set forth together toEngland. 

"Lord, " said she, "what craft wilt thou follow? Take up one thatis seemly. " "None other will I take, " answered he, "but that ofmaking shoes. " "Lord, " said she, "such a craft becomes not a manso nobly born as thou. " "By that however will I abide, " said he. "I know nothing thereof, " said Kicva. "But I know, " answeredManawyddan, "and I will teach thee to stitch. We will not attemptto dress the leather, but we will buy it ready dressed, and willmake the shoes from it. "

So they went into England, and went as far as Hereford; and theybetook themselves to making shoes. And he began by buying the bestcordwain that could be had in the town, and none other would buy. And he associated himself with the best goldsmith in the town, andcaused him to make clasps for the shoes, and to gild the clasps;and he marked how it was done until he learned the method. Andtherefore is he called one of the three makers of gold shoes. Andwhen they could be had from him, not a shoe nor hose was bought ofany of the cordwainers in the town. But when the cordwainersperceived that their gains were failing (for as Manawyddan shapedthe work, so Kicva stitched it), they came together and tookcounsel, and agreed that they would slay them. And he had warningthereof, and it was told him how the cordwainers had agreedtogether to slay him. 

"Lord, " said Kicva, "wherefore should this be borne from theseboors?" "Nay, " said he, "we will go back unto Dyved. " So towardsDyved they set forth. 

Now Manawyddan, when he set out to return to Dyved, took with hima burden of wheat. And he proceeded towards Narberth, and there hedwelt. And never was he better pleased than when he saw Narberthagain, and the lands where he had been wont to hunt with Pryderiand with Rhiannon. And he accustomed himself to fish, and to huntthe deer in their covert. And then he began to prepare someground, and he sowed a croft, and a second, and a third. And nowheat in the world ever sprung up better. And the three croftsprospered with perfect growth, and no man ever saw fairer wheatthan it. 

And thus passed the seasons of the year until the harvest came. And he went to look at one of his crofts, and, behold, it wasripe. "I will reap this to-morrow, " said he. And that night hewent back to Narberth, and on the morrow, in the gray dawn, hewent to reap the croft; and when he came there, he found nothingbut the bare straw. Every one of the ears of the wheat was cut offfrom the stalk, and all the ears carried entirely away, andnothing but the straw left. And at this he marvelled greatly. 

Then he went to look at another croft, and, behold, that also wasripe. "Verily, " said he, "this will I reap to-morrow. " And on themorrow he came with the intent to reap it; and when he came there, he found nothing but the bare straw. "O gracious Heaven!" heexclaimed. "I know that whosoever has begun my ruin is completingit, and has also destroyed the country with me. "

Then he went to look at the third croft; and when he came there, finer wheat had there never been seen, and this also was ripe. "Evil betide me, " said he, "if I watch not here to-night. Whoevercarried off the other corn will come in like manner to take this, and I will know who it is. " And he told Kicva all that hadbefallen. "Verily, " said she, "what thinkest thou to do?" "I willwatch the croft to-night, " said he. And he went to watch thecroft. 

And at midnight he heard something stirring among the wheat; andhe looked, and behold, the mightiest host of mice in the world, which could neither be numbered nor measured. And he knew not whatit was until the mice had made their way into the croft, and eachof them, climbing up the straw, and bending it down with itsweight, had cut off one of the ears of wheat, and had carried itaway, leaving there the stalk; and he saw not a single straw therethat had not a mouse to it. And they all took their way, carryingthe ears with them. 

In wrath and anger did he rush upon the mice; but he could no morecome up with them than if they had been gnats or birds of the air, except one only, which, though it was but sluggish, went so fastthat a man on foot could scarce overtake it. And after this one hewent, and he caught it, and put it in his glove, and tied up theopening of the glove with a string, and kept it with him, andreturned to the palace. Then he came to the hall where Kicva was, and he lighted a fire, and hung the glove by the string upon apeg. "What hast thou there, lord?" said Kicva. "A thief, " said he, "that I found robbing me. " "What kind of a thief may it be, lord, that thou couldst put into thy glove?" said she. Then he told herhow the mice came to the last of the fields in his sight. "And oneof them was less nimble than the rest, and is now in my glove; to-morrow I will hang it. " "My lord, " said she, "this is marvellous;but yet it would be unseemly for a man of dignity like thee to behanging such a reptile as this. " "Woe betide me, " said he, "if Iwould not hang them all, could I catch them, and such as I have Iwill hang. " "Verily, lord, " said she, "there is no reason that Ishould succor this reptile, except to prevent discredit unto thee. Do therefore, lord, as thou wilt. "

Then he went to the Mound of Narberth, taking the mouse with him. And he set up two forks on the highest part of the mound. Andwhile he was doing this, behold, he saw a scholar coming towardshim, in old and poor and tattered garments. And it was now sevenyears since he had seen in that place either man or beast, exceptthose four persons who had remained together until two of themwere lost. 

"My lord, " said the scholar, "good-day to thee. " "Heaven prosperthee, and my greeting be unto thee! And whence dost thou come, scholar?" asked he. "I come, lord, from singing in England; andwherefore dost thou inquire?" "Because for the last seven years, "answered he, "I have seen no man here save four secluded persons, and thyself this moment. " "Truly, lord, " said he, "I go throughthis land unto mine own. And what work art thou upon, lord?" "I amhanging a thief that I caught robbing me, " said he. "What mannerof thief is that?" asked the scholar. "I see a creature in thyhand like unto a mouse, and ill does it become a man of rank equalto thine to touch a reptile such as this. Let it go forth free. ""I will not let it go free, by Heaven, " said he; "I caught itrobbing me, and the doom of a thief will I inflict upon it, and Iwill hang it. " "Lord, " said he, "rather than see a man of rankequal to thine at such a work as this, I would give thee a pound, which I have received as alms, to let the reptile go forth free. ""I will not let it go free, " said he, "neither will I sell it. ""As thou wilt, lord, " he answered; "I care naught. " And thescholar went his way. 

And as he was placing the cross-beam upon the two forks, behold, apriest came towards him, upon a horse covered with trappings. "Good day to thee, lord, " said he. "Heaven prosper thee!" saidManawyddan; "thy blessing. " "The blessing of Heaven be upon thee!And what, lord, art thou doing?" "I am hanging a thief that Icaught robbing me, " said he. "What manner of thief, lord?" askedhe. "A creature, " he answered, "in form of a mouse. It has beenrobbing me, and I am inflicting upon it the doom of a thief. ""Lord, " said he, "rather than see thee touch this reptile, I wouldpurchase its freedom. " "By my confession to Heaven, neither will Isell it nor set it free. " "It is true, lord, that it is worthnothing to buy; but rather than see thee defile thyself bytouching such a reptile as this, I will give thee three pounds tolet it go. " "I will not, by Heaven, " said he, "take any price forit. As it ought, so shall it be hanged. " And the priest went hisway. 

Then he noosed the string around the mouse's neck, and as he wasabout to draw it up, behold, he saw a bishop's retinue, with hissumpter-horses and his attendants. And the bishop himself cametowards him. And he stayed his work. "Lord Bishop, " said he, "thyblessing. " "Heaven's blessing be unto thee!" said he. "What workart thou upon?" "Hanging a thief that I caught robbing me, " saidhe. "Is not that a mouse that I see in thy hand?" "Yes, " answeredhe, "and she has robbed me. " "Ay, " said he, "since I have come atthe doom of this reptile I will ransom it of thee. I will givethee seven pounds for it, and that rather than see a man of rankequal to thine destroying so vile a reptile as this. Let it loose, and thou shalt have the money. " "I declare to Heaven that I willnot let it loose. " "If thou wilt not loose it for this, I willgive thee four and twenty pounds of ready money to set it free. ""I will not set it free, by Heaven, for as much again, " said he. "If thou wilt not set it free for this, I will give thee all thehorses that thou seest in this plain, and the seven loads ofbaggage, and the seven horses that they are upon. " "By Heaven, Iwill not, " he replied. "Since for this thou wilt not set it free, do so at what price soever thou wilt. " "I will that Rhiannon andPryderi be free, " said he. "That thou shalt have, " he answered. "Not yet will I loose the mouse, by Heaven. " "What then wouldstthou?" "That the charm and the illusion be removed from the sevencantrevs of Dyved. " "This shalt thou have also; set therefore themouse free. " "I will not set it free, by Heaven, " said he, "till Iknow who the mouse may be. " "She is my wife. " "Wherefore came sheto me?" "To despoil thee, " he answered. "I am Lloyd, the son ofKilwed, and I cast the charm over the seven cantrevs of Dyved. Andit was to avenge Gawl, the son of Clud, from the friendship I hadtowards him, that I cast the charm. And upon Pryderi did I avengeGawl, the son of Clud, for the game of Badger in the Bag, thatPwyll, the son of Auwyn, played upon him. And when it was knownthat thou wast come to dwell in the land, my household came andbesought me to transform them into mice, that they might destroythy corn. And they went the first and the second night, anddestroyed thy two crops. And the third night came unto me my wifeand the ladies of the court, and besought me to transform them. And I transformed them. Now she is not in her usual health. Andhad she been in her usual health, thou wouldst not have been ableto overtake her; but since this has taken place, and she has beencaught, I will restore to thee Pryderi and Rhiannon, and I willtake the charm and illusion from off Dyved. Set her thereforefree. " "I will not set her free yet. " "What wilt thou more?" heasked. "I will that there be no more charm upon the seven cantrevsof Dyved, and that none shall be put upon it henceforth; moreover, that vengeance be never taken for this, either upon Pryderi orRhiannon, or upon me. " "All this shalt thou have. And truly thouhast done wisely in asking this. Upon thy head would have lit allthis trouble. " "Yea, " said he, "for fear thereof was it that Irequired this. " "Set now my wife at liberty. " "I will not, " saidhe, "until I see Pryderi and Rhiannon with me free. " "Behold, herethey come, " he answered. 

And thereupon behold Pryderi and Rhiannon. And he rose up to meetthem, and greeted them, and sat down beside them. "Ah, chieftain, set now my wife at liberty, " said the bishop. "Hast thou notreceived all thou didst ask?" "I will release her, gladly, " saidhe. And thereupon he set her free. 

Then he struck her with a magic wand, and she was changed backinto a young woman, the fairest ever seen. "Look round upon thyland, " said he, "and thou wilt see it all tilled and peopled as itwas in its best estate. " And he rose up and looked forth. And whenhe looked he saw all the lands tilled, and full of herds anddwellings. 

And thus ends this portion of the Mabinogi. 

The following allusions to the preceding story are found in aletter of the poet Southey to John Rickman, Esq. , dated June 6th, 1802:

"You will read the Mabinogeon, concerning which I ought to havetalked to you. In the last, that most odd and Arabian-like storyof the mouse, mention is made of a begging scholar, that helps tothe date; but where did the Cymri get the imagination that couldproduce such a tale? That enchantment of the basin hanging by thechain from heaven is in the wildest spirit of the Arabian Nights. I am perfectly astonished that such fictions should exist inWelsh. They throw no light on the origin of romance, everythingbeing utterly dissimilar to what we mean by that term, but they doopen a new world of fiction; and if the date of their language befixed about the twelfth or thirteenth century, I cannot but thinkthe mythological substance is of far earlier date; very probablybrought from the East by some of the first settlers orconquerors. "

CHAPTER XI

KILWICH AND OLWEN

Kilydd, a son of Prince Kelyddon, desired a wife as a helpmate, and the wife that he chose was Goleudid, the daughter of PrinceAnlawd. And after their union the people put up prayers that theymight have an heir. And they had a son through the prayers of thepeople; and called his name Kilwich. 

After this the boy's mother, Goleudid, the daughter of PrinceAnlawd, fell sick. Then she called her husband to her, and said tohim, "Of this sickness I shall die, and thou wilt take anotherwife. Now wives are the gift of the Lord, but it would be wrongfor thee to harm thy son. Therefore I charge thee that thou takenot a wife until thou see a briar with two blossoms upon mygrave. " And this he promised her. Then she besought him to dressher grave every year, that no weeds might grow thereon. So thequeen died. Now the king sent an attendant every morning to see ifanything were growing upon the grave. And at the end of theseventh year they neglected that which they had promised to thequeen. 

One day the king went to hunt; and he rode to the place of burial, to see the grave, and to know if it were time that he should takea wife: and the King saw the briar. And when he saw it, the kingtook counsel where he should find a wife. Said one of hiscounsellors, "I know a wife that will suit thee well; and she isthe wife of King Doged. " And they resolved to go to seek her; andthey slew the king, and brought away his wife. And they conqueredthe kings' lands. And he married the widow of King Doged, thesister of Yspadaden Penkawr. 

And one day his stepmother said to Kilwich, "It were well for theeto have a wife. " "I am not yet of an age to wed, " answered theyouth. Then said she unto him, "I declare to thee that it is thydestiny not to be suited with a wife until thou obtain Olwen, thedaughter of Yspadaden Penkawr. " And the youth blushed, and thelove of the maiden diffused itself through all his frame, althoughhe had never seen her. And his father inquired of him, "What hascome over thee, my son, and what aileth thee?" "My stepmother hasdeclared to me that I shall never have a wife until I obtainOlwen, the daughter of Yspadaden Penkawr. " "That will be easy forthee, " answered his father. "Arthur is thy cousin. Go, therefore, unto Arthur, to cut thy hair, and ask this of him as a boon. "

And the youth pricked forth upon a steed with head dappled gray, four winters old, firm of limb, with shell-formed hoofs, having abridle of linked gold on his head, and upon him a saddle of costlygold. And in the youth's hand were two spears of silver, sharp, well-tempered, headed with steel, three ells in length, of anedge to wound the wind, and cause blood to flow, and swifter thanthe fall of the dew-drop from the blade of reed-grass, when thedew of June is at the heaviest. A gold-hilted sword was upon histhigh, the blade of which was gilded, bearing a cross of inlaidgold of the hue of the lightning of heaven. His war-horn was ofivory. Before him were two brindled, white-breasted greyhounds, having strong collars of rubies about their necks, reaching fromthe shoulder to the ear. And the one that was upon the left sidebounded across to the right side, and the one on the right to theleft, and, like two sea-swallows, sported around him. And hiscourser cast up four sods, with his four hoofs, like four swallowsin the air, about his head, now above, now below. About him was afour-cornered cloth of purple, and an apple of gold was at eachcorner, and every one of the apples was of the value of an hundredkine. And there was precious gold of the value of three hundredkine upon his shoes, and upon his stirrups, from his knee to thetip of his toe. And the blade of grass bent not beneath him, solight was his courser's tread, as he journeyed toward the gate ofArthur's palace. 

Spoke the youth: "Is there a porter?" "There is; and if thouholdest not thy peace, small will be thy welcome. I am Arthur'sporter every first day of January. " "Open the portal. " "I will notopen it. " "Wherefore not?" "The knife is in the meat, and thedrink is in the horn, and there is revelry in Arthur's hall; andnone may enter therein but the son of a king of a privilegedcountry, or a craftsman bringing his craft. But there will berefreshment for thy dogs and for thy horse; and for thee therewill be collops cooked and peppered, and luscious wine, andmirthful songs; and food for fifty men shall be brought unto theein the guest-chamber, where the stranger and the sons of othercountries eat, who come not into the precincts of the palace ofArthur. Thou wilt fare no worse there than thou wouldst withArthur in the court. A lady shall smooth thy couch, and shall lullthee with songs; and early to-morrow morning, when the gate isopen for the multitude that came hither to-day, for thee shall itbe opened first, and thou mayest sit in the place that thou shaltchoose in Arthur's hall, from the upper end to the lower. " Saidthe youth: "That will I not do. If thou openest the gate, it iswell. If thou dost not open it, I will bring disgrace upon thylord, and evil report upon thee. And I will set up three shouts atthis very gate, than which none were ever heard more deadly. ""What clamor soever thou mayest make, " said Glewlwyd, the porter, "against the laws of Arthur's palace, shalt thou not entertherein, until I first go and speak with Arthur. "

Then Glewlwyd went into the hall. And Arthur said to him, "Hastthou news from the gate?" "Half of my life is passed, " saidGlewlwyd, "and half of thine. I was heretofore in Kaer Se andAsse, in Sach and Salach, in Lotor and Fotor, and I have been inIndia the Great and India the Lesser, and I have also been inEurope and Africa, and in the islands of Corsica, and I waspresent when thou didst conquer Greece in the East. Nine supremesovereigns, handsome men, saw we there, but never did I behold aman of equal dignity with him who is now at the door of theportal. " Then said Arthur: "If walking thou didst enter here, return thou running. It is unbecoming to keep such a man as thousayest he is in the wind and the rain. " Said Kay: "By the hand ofmy friend, if thou wouldst follow my counsel, thou wouldst notbreak through the laws of the court because of him. " "Not so, blessed Kay, " said Arthur; "it is an honor to us to be resortedto, and the greater our courtesy, the greater will be our renownand our fame and our glory. "

And Glewlwyd came to the gate, and opened the gate before Kilwich:and although all dismounted upon the horse-block at the gate, yetdid he not dismount, but he rode in upon his charger. Then saidhe, "Greeting be unto thee, sovereign ruler of this island, and bethis greeting no less unto the lowest than unto the highest, andbe it equally unto thy guests, and thy warriors, and thychieftains; let all partake of it as completely as thyself. Andcomplete be thy favor, and thy fame, and thy glory, throughout allthis island. " "Greeting unto thee also, " said Arthur; "sit thoubetween two of my warriors, and thou shalt have minstrels beforethee, and thou shalt enjoy the privileges of a king born to athrone, as long as thou remainest here. And when I disperse mypresents to the visitors and strangers in this court, they shallbe in thy hand at my commencing. " Said the youth, "I came not hereto consume meat and drink; but if I obtain the boon that I seek, Iwill requite it thee, and extol thee; but if I have it not, I willbear forth thy dispraise to the four quarters of the world, as faras thy renown has extended. " Then said Arthur, "Since thou wiltnot remain here, chieftain, thou shalt receive the boon, whatsoever thy tongue may name, as far as the wind dries, and therain moistens, and the sun revolves, and the sea encircles, andthe earth extends; save only my ship Prydwen, and my mantle, andCaliburn, my sword, and Rhongomyant, my lance, and Guenever, mywife. By the truth of Heaven, thou shalt have it cheerfuly, namewhat thou wilt. " "I would that thou bless my hair, " said he. "Thatshall be granted thee. "

And Arthur took a golden comb, and scissors whereof the loops wereof silver, and he combed his hair. And Arthur inquired of him whohe was; "for my heart warms unto thee, and I know that thou artcome of my blood. Tell me, therefore, who thou art. " "I will tellthee, " said the youth. "I am Kilwich, the son of Kilydd, the sonof Prince Kelyddon, by Goleudyd, my mother, the daughter of PrinceAnlawd. " "That is true, " said Arthur; "thou art my cousin. Whatsoever boon thou mayest ask, thou shalt receive, be it what itmay that thy tongue shall name. " "Pledge the truth of Heaven andthe faith of thy kingdom thereof. " "I pledge it thee gladly. " "Icrave of thee, then, that thou obtain for me Olwen, the daughterof Yspadaden Penkawr, to wife; and this boon I likewise seek atthe hands of thy warriors. I seek it from Kay and from Bedwyr; andfrom Gwynn, the son of Nudd, and Gadwy, the son of Geraint, andPrince Flewddur Flam and Iona, king of France, and Sel, the son ofSelgi, and Taliesin, the chief of the bards, and Geraint, the sonof Erbin, Garanwyn, the son of Kay, and Amren, the son of Bedwyr, Ol, the son of Olwyd, Bedwin, the bishop, Guenever, the chieflady, and Guenhywach, her sister, Morved, the daughter of Urien, and Gwenlian Deg, the majestic maiden, Creiddylad, [Footnote:Creiddylad is no other than Shakspeare's Cordelia, whose father, King Lear, is by the Welsh authorities called indiscriminatelyLlyr or Lludd. All the old chronicles give the story of herdevotion to her aged parent, but none of them seem to have beenaware that she is destined to remain with him till the day ofdoom, whilst Gwyn ap Nudd, the king of the fairies, and Gwythyr opGreidiol, fight for her every first of May, and whichever of themmay be fortunate enough to be the conqueror at that time willobtain her as a bride. ] the daughter of Lludd, the constantmaiden, and Ewaedah, the daughter of Kynvelyn, [Footnote: TheWelsh have a fable on the subject of the half man, taken to beillustrative of the force of habit. In this allegory Arthur issupposed to be met by a sprite, who appears at first in a smalland indistinct form, but who, on approaching nearer, increases insize, and, assuming the semblance of half a man, endeavors toprovoke the king to wrestle. Despising his weakness, andconsidering that he should gain no credit by the encounter, Arthurrefuses to do so, and delays the contest until at length the halfman (Habit) becomes so strong that it requires his utmost effortsto overcome him. ] the half-man. " All these did Kilwich, the son ofKilydd, adjure to obtain his boon. 

Then said Arthur, "O chieftain, I have never heard of the maidenof whom thou speakest, nor of her kindred, but I will gladly sendmessengers in search of her. Give me time to seek her. " And theyouth said, "I will willingly grant from this night to that at theend of the year to do so. " Then Arthur sent messengers to everyland within his dominions to seek for the maiden, and at the endof the year Arthur's messengers returned without having gained anyknowledge or intelligence concerning Olwen, more than on the firstday. Then said Kilwich, "Every one has received his boon, and Iyet lack mine. I will depart, and bear away thy honor with me. "Then said Kay, "Rash chieftain! dost thou reproach Arthur? Go withus, and we will not part until thou dost either confess that themaiden exists not in the world, or until we obtain her. " ThereuponKay rose up. And Arthur called Bedwyr, who never shrank from anyenterprise upon which Kay was bound. None were equal to him inswiftness throughout this island except Arthur alone; and althoughhe was one handed; three warriors could not shed blood faster thanhe on the field of battle. 

And Arthur called to Kyndelig, the guide, "Go thou upon thisexpedition with the chieftain. " For as good a guide was he in aland which he had never seen as he was in his own. 

He called Gurhyr Gwalstat, because he knew all tongues. 

He called Gawain, the son of Gwyar, because he never returned homewithout achieving the adventure of which he went in quest. 

And Arthur called Meneu, the son of Teirgwed, in order that, ifthey went into a savage country, he might cast a charm and anillusion over them, so that none might see them, whilst they couldsee every one. 

They journeyed until they came to a vast open plain, wherein theysaw a great castle, which was the fairest of the castles of theworld. And when they came before the castle, they beheld a vastflock of sheep. And upon the top of a mound there was a herdsmankeeping the sheep. And a rug made of skins was upon him, and byhis side was a shaggy mastiff, larger than a steed nine wintersold. 

Then said Kay, "Gurhyr Gwalstat, go thou and salute yonder man. ""Kay, " said he, "I engaged not to go further than thou thyself. ""Let us go then together. " answered Kay. Said Meneu, "Fear not togo thither, for I will cast a spell upon the dog, so that he shallinjure no one. " And they went up to the mound whereon the herdsmanwas, and they said to him, "How dost thou fare, herdsman?" "Notless fair be it to you than to me. " "Whose are the sheep that thoudost keep, and to whom does yonder castle belong?" "Stupid are ye, truly! not to know that this is the castle of Yspadaden Penkawr. And ye also, who are ye?" "We are an embassy from Arthur, come toseek Olwen, the daughter of Yspadaden Penkawr. " "O men! the mercyof Heaven be upon you; do not that for all the world. None whoever came hither on this quest has returned alive. " And theherdsman rose up. And as he rose Kilwich gave unto him a ring ofgold. And he went home and gave the ring to his spouse to keep. And she took the ring when it was given her, and she said, "Whencecame this ring, for thou art not wont to have good fortune. " "Owife, him to whom this ring belonged thou shalt see here thisevening. " "And who is he?" asked the woman. "Kilwich, the son ofKilydd, by Goleudid, the daughter of Prince Anlawd, who is come toseek Olwen as his wife. " And when she heard that, she had joy thather nephew, the son of her sister, was coming to her, and sorrow, because she had never known any one depart alive who had come onthat quest. 

And the men went forward to the gate of the herdsman's dwelling. And when she heard their footsteps approaching, she ran out withjoy to meet them. And Kay snatched a billet out of the pile. Andwhen she met them, she sought to throw her arms about their necks. And Kay placed the log between her two hands, and she squeezed itso that it became a twisted coil. "O woman, " said Kay, "if thouhadst squeezed me thus, none could ever again have set theiraffections on me. Evil love were this. " They entered into thehouse and were served; and soon after, they all went forth toamuse themselves. Then the woman opened a stone chest that wasbefore the chimney-corner, and out of it arose a youth withyellow, curling hair. Said Gurhyr, "It is a pity to hide thisyouth. I know that it is not his own crime that is thus visitedupon him. " "This is but a remnant, " said the woman. "Three andtwenty of my sons has Yspadaden Penkawr slain, and I have no morehope of this one than of the others. " Then said Kay, "Let him comeand be a companion with me, and he shall not be slain unless Ialso am slain with him. " And they ate. And the woman asked them, "Upon what errand come you here?" "We come to seek Olwen for thisyouth. " Then said the woman, "In the name of Heaven, since no onefrom the castle hath yet seen you, return again whence you came. ""Heaven is our witness, that we will not return until we have seenthe maiden. Does she ever come hither, so that she may be seen?""She comes here every Saturday to wash her head, and in the vesselwhere she washes she leaves all her rings, and she never eithercomes herself or sends any messengers to fetch them. " "Will shecome here if she is sent to?" "Heaven knows that I will notdestroy my soul, nor will I betray those that trust me; unless youwill pledge me your faith that you will not harm her, I will notsend to her. " "We pledge it, " said they. So a message was sent, and she came. 

The maiden was clothed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and abouther neck was a collar of ruddy gold, on which were preciousemeralds and rubies. More yellow was her head than the flower ofthe broom, [Footnote: The romancers dwell with great complacencyon the fair hair and delicate complexion of their heroines. Thistaste continued for a long time, and to render the hair light wasan object of education. Even when wigs came into fashion they wereall flaxen. Such was the color of the hair of the Gauls and oftheir German conquerors. It required some centuries to reconciletheir eyes to the swarthy beauties of their Spanish and Italianneighbors. ] and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, andfairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of thewood-anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain. The eye ofthe trained hawk was not brighter than hers. Her bosom was moresnowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheek was redder thanthe reddest roses. Whoso beheld her was filled with her love. Fourwhite trefoils sprung up wherever she trod. And therefore was shecalled Olwen. 

She entered the house and sat beside Kilwich upon the foremostbench; and as soon as he saw her, he knew her. And Kilwich saidunto her, "Ah! maiden, thou art she whom I have loved; come awaywith me, lest they speak evil of thee and of me. Many a day have Iloved thee. " "I cannot do this, for I have pledged my faith to myfather not to go without his counsel, for his life will last onlyuntil the time of my espousals. Whatever is to be, must be. But Iwill give thee advice, if thou wilt take it. Go, ask me of myfather, and that which he shall require of thee, grant it, andthou wilt obtain me; but if thou deny him anything, thou wilt notobtain me, and it will be well for thee if thou escape with thylife. " "I promise all this, if occasion offer, " said he. 

She returned to her chamber, and they all rose up, and followedher to the castle. And they slew the nine porters, that were atthe nine gates, in silence. And they slew the nine watch-dogswithout one of them barking. And they went forward to the hall. 

"The greeting of Heaven and of man be unto thee, YspadadenPenkawr, " said they. "And you, wherefore come you?" "We come toask thy daughter Olwen for Kilwich, the son of Kilydd, the son ofPrince Kelyddon. " "Where are my pages and my servants? Raise upthe forks beneath my two eyebrows, which have fallen over my eyes, that I may see the fashion of my son-in-law. " And they did so. "Come hither to-morrow, and you shall have an answer. "

They rose to go forth, and Yspadaden Penkawr seized one of thethree poisoned darts that lay beside him, and threw it after them. And Bedwyr caught it, and flung it, and pierced Yspadaden Penkawrgrievously with it through the knee. Then he said, "A cursedungentle son-in-law, truly! I shall ever walk the worse for hisrudeness, and shall ever be without a cure. This poisoned ironpains me like the bite of a gad-fly. Cursed be the smith whoforged it, and the anvil on which it was wrought! So sharp is it!"

That night also they took up their abode in the house of theherdsman. The next day, with the dawn, they arrayed themselves andproceeded to the castle, and entered the hall; and they said, "Yspadaden Penkawr, give us thy daughter in consideration of herdower and her maiden fee, which we will pay to thee, and to hertwo kinswomen likewise. " Then he said, "Her four great-grandmothers and her four great-grandsires are yet alive; it isneedful that I take counsel of them. " "Be it so, " they answered, "we will go to meat. " As they rose up he took the second dart thatwas beside him, and cast it after them. And Meneu, the son ofGawedd, caught it, and flung it back at him, and wounded him inthe centre of the breast. "A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly!"said he; "the hard iron pains me like the bite of a horse-leech. Cursed be the hearth whereon it was heated, and the smith whoformed it! So sharp is it! Henceforth, whenever I go up hill, Ishall have a scant in my breath, and a pain in my chest, and Ishall often loathe my food. " And they went to meat. 

And the third day they returned to the palace. And YspadadenPenkawr said to them, "Shoot not at me again unless you desiredeath. Where are my attendants? Lift up the forks of my eyebrows, which have fallen over my eyeballs, that I may see the fashion ofmy son-in-law. " Then they arose, and, as they did so, YspadadenPenkawr took the third poisoned dart and cast it at them. AndKilwich caught it, and threw it vigorously, and wounded himthrough the eyeball. "A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly! As longas I remain alive, my eyesight will be the worse. Whenever I goagainst the wind, my eyes will water; and peradventure my headwill burn, and I shall have a giddiness every new moon. Like thebite of a mad dog is the stroke of this poisoned iron. Cursed bethe fire in which it was forged!" And they went to meat. 

And the next day they came again to the palace, and they said, "Shoot not at us any more, unless thou desirest such hurt and harmand torture as thou now hast, and even more. " Said Kilwich, "Giveme thy daughter; and if thou wilt not give her, thou shalt receivethy death because of her. " "Where is he that seeks my daughter?Come hither where I may see thee. " And they placed him a chairface to face with him. 

Said Yspadaden Penkawr, "Is it thou that seekest my daughter?"

"It is I, " answered Kilwich. 

"I must have thy pledge that thou wilt not do toward me otherwisethan is just; and when I have gotten that which I shall name, mydaughter thou shalt have. "

"I promise thee that willingly, " said Kilwich; "name what thouwilt. "

"I will do so, " said he. "Seest thou yonder red tilled ground?"

"I see it. "

"When first I met the mother of this maiden, nine bushels of flaxwere sown therein, and none has yet sprung up, white nor black. Irequire to have the flax to sow in the new land yonder, that whenit grows up it may make a white wimple for my daughter's head onthe day of thy wedding. "

"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayestthink it will not be easy. "

"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get--the harp of Teirtu, to play to us that night. When a man desiresthat it should play, it does so of itself; and when he desiresthat it should cease, it ceases. And this he will not give of hisown free will, and thou wilt not be able to compel him. "

"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayestthink it will not be easy. "

"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. I require thee to get me for my huntsman Mabon, the son of Modron. He was taken from his mother when three nights old, and it is notknown where he now is, nor whether he is living or dead. "

"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayestthink it will not be easy. "

"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get--the two cubs of the wolf Gast Rhymhi; no leash in the world willhold them, but a leash made from the beard of Dillus Varwawc, therobber. And the leash will be of no avail unless it be pluckedfrom his beard while he is alive. While he lives he will notsuffer this to be done to him, and the leash will be of no useshould he be dead, because it will be brittle. "

"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayestthink it will not be easy. "

"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get--the sword of Gwernach the Giant; of his own free will he will notgive it, and thou wilt never be able to compel him. "

"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayestthink it will not be easy. "

"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. Difficulties shalt thou meet with, and nights without sleep, inseeking this, and if thou obtain it not, neither shalt thou obtainmy daughter. "

"Horses shall I have, and chivalry; and my lord and kinsman, Arthur, will obtain for me all these things. And I shall gain thydaughter, and thou shalt lose thy life. "

"Go forward. And thou shalt not be chargeable for food or raimentfor my daughter while thou art seeking these things; and when thouhast compassed all these marvels, thou shalt have my daughter forthy wife. "

CHAPTER XII

KILWICH AND OLWEN (Continued)

All that day they journeyed until the evening, and then theybeheld a vast castle, which was the largest in the world. And lo!a black man, larger than three of the men of this world, came outfrom the castle. And they spoke unto him, and said, "O man, whosecastle is that?" "Stupid are ye, truly, O men! There is no one inthe world that does not know that this is the castle of Gwernachthe Giant. " "What treatment is there for guests and strangers thatalight in that castle?" "O chieftain, Heaven protect thee! Noguests ever returned thence alive, and no one may enter thereinunless he brings with him his craft. "

Then they proceeded towards the gate. Said Gurhyr Gwalstat, "Isthere a porter?" "There is; wherefore dost thou call?" "Open thegate. " "I will not open it. " "Wherefore wilt thou not?" "The knifeis in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelryin the hall of Gwernach the Giant; and except for a craftsman whobrings his craft, the gate will not be opened to-night. " "Verily, porter, " then said Kay, "my craft bring I with me. " "What is thycraft?" "The best burnisher of swords am I in the world. " "I willgo and tell this unto Gwernach the Giant, and I will bring thee ananswer. "

So the porter went in, and Gwernach said to him, "Hast thou newsfrom the gate?" "I have. There is a party at the door of the gatewho desire to come in. " "Didst thou inquire of them if theypossessed any art?" "I did inquire, " said he, "and one told methat he was well skilled in the burnishing of swords. " "We haveneed of him then. For some time have I sought for some one topolish my sword, and could find no one. Let this man enter, sincehe brings with him his craft. "

The porter thereupon returned and opened the gate. And Kay went inby himself, and he saluted Gwernach the Giant. And a chair wasplaced for him opposite to Gwernach. And Gwernach said to him, "Oman, is it true that is reported of thee, that thou knowest how toburnish swords?" "I know full well how to do so, " answered Kay. Then was the sword of Gwernach brought to him. And Kay took a bluewhetstone from under his arm, and asked whether he would have itburnished white or blue. "Do with it as it seems good to thee, oras thou wouldst if it were thine own. " Then Kay polished one halfof the blade, and put it in his hand. "Will this please thee?"asked he. "I would rather than all that is in my dominions thatthe whole of it were like this. It is a marvel to me that such aman as thou should be without a companion. " "O noble sir, I have acompanion, albeit he is not skilled in this art. " "Who may he be?""Let the porter go forth, and I will tell him whereby he may knowhim. The head of his lance will leave its shaft, and draw bloodfrom the wind, and will descend upon its shaft again. " Then thegate was opened, and Bedwyr entered. And Kay said, "Bedwyr is veryskilful, though he knows not this art. "

And there was much discourse among those who were without, becausethat Kay and Bedwyr had gone in. And a young man who was withthem, the only son of the herdsman, got in also; and he contrivedto admit all the rest, but they kept themselves concealed. 

The sword was now polished, and Kay gave it unto the hand ofGwernach the Giant, to see if he were pleased with his work. Andthe giant said, "The work is good; I am content therewith. " SaidKay, "It is thy scabbard that hath rusted thy sword; give it tome, that I may take out the wooden sides of it, and put in newones. " And he took the scabbard from him, and the sword in theother hand. And he came and stood over against the giant, as if hewould have put the sword into the scabbard; and with it he struckat the head of the giant, and cut off his head at one blow. Thenthey despoiled the castle, and took from it what goods and jewelsthey would. And they returned to Arthur's court, bearing with themthe sword of Gwernach the Giant. 

And when they told Arthur how they had sped, Arthur said, "It is agood beginning. " Then they took counsel, and said, "Which of thesemarvels will it be best for us to seek next?" "It will be best, "said one, "to seek Mabon, the son of Modron; and he will not befound unless we first find Eidoel, the son of Aer, his kinsman. "Then Arthur rose up, and the warriors of the island of Britainwith him, to seek for Eidoel; and they proceeded until they cameto the castle of Glivi, where Eidoel was imprisoned. Glivi stoodon the summit of his castle, and he said, "Arthur, what requirestthou of me, since nothing remains to me in this fortress, and Ihave neither joy nor pleasure in it, neither wheat nor oats? Seeknot, therefore, to do me harm. " Said Arthur, "Not to injure theecame I hither, but to seek for the prisoner that is with thee. " "Iwill give thee my prisoner, though I had not thought to give himup to any one, and therewith shalt thou have my support and myaid. "

His followers said unto Arthur, "Lord, go thou home, thou canstnot proceed with thy host in quest of such small adventures asthese. " Then said Arthur, "It were well for thee, Gurhyr Gwalstat, to go upon this quest, for thou knowest all languages, and artfamiliar with those of the birds and the beasts. Thou, Eidoel, oughtest likewise to go with thy men in search of thy cousin. Andas for you, Kay and Bedwyr, I have hope of whatever adventure yeare in quest of, that ye will achieve it. Achieve ye thisadventure for me. "

They went forward until they came to the Ousel of Cilgwri. AndGurhyr adjured her, saying, "Tell me if thou knowest aught ofMabon, the son of Modron, who was taken when three nights old frombetween his mother and the wall?" And the Ousel answered, "When Ifirst came here, there was a smith's anvil in this place, and Iwas then a young bird; and from that time no work has been doneupon it, save the pecking of my beak every evening; and now thereis not so much as the size of a nut remaining thereof; yet duringall that time I have never heard of the man for whom you inquire. Nevertheless, I will do that which it is fitting that I should foran embassy from Arthur. There is a race of animals who were formedbefore me, and I will be your guide to them. "

So they proceeded to the place where was the Stag of Redynvre. "Stag of Redynvre, behold, we are come to thee, an embassy fromArthur, for we have not heard of any animal older than thou. Say, knowest thou aught of Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken fromhis mother when three nights old?" The Stag said, "When first Icame hither there was a plain all around me, without any treessave one oak sapling, which grew up to be an oak with an hundredbranches; and that oak has since perished, so that now nothingremains of it but the withered stump; and from that day to this Ihave been here, yet have I never heard of the man for whom youinquire. Nevertheless, being an embassy from Arthur, I will beyour guide to the place where there is an animal which was formedbefore I was, and the oldest animal in the world, and the one thathas travelled most, the Eagle of Gwern Abwy. "

Gurhyr said, "Eagle of Gwern Abwy, we have come to thee, anembassy from Arthur, to ask thee if thou knowest aught of Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken from his mother when he was threenights old?" The Eagle said, "I have been here for a great spaceof time, and when I first came hither, there was a rock here fromthe top of which I pecked at the stars every evening; and it hascrumbled away, and now it is not so much as a span high. All thattime I have been here, and I have never heard of the man for whomyou inquire, except once when I went in search of food as far asLlyn Llyw. And when I came there, I struck my talons into asalmon, thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. But hedrew me into the water, and I was scarcely able to escape fromhim. After that I made peace with him. And I drew fifty fish-spears out of his back, and relieved him. Unless he know somethingof him whom you seek, I cannot tell who may. However, I will guideyou to the place where he is. "

So they went thither; and the Eagle said, "Salmon of Llyn Llyw, Ihave come to thee with an embassy from Arthur, to ask thee if thouknowest aught of Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken away atthree nights old from his mother. " "As much as I know I will tellthee. With every tide I go along the river upward, until I comenear to the walls of Gloucester, and there have I found such wrongas I never found elsewhere; and to the end that ye may givecredence thereto, let one of you go thither upon each of my twoshoulders. " So Kay and Gurhyr Gwalstat went upon the two shouldersof the Salmon, and they proceeded until they came unto the wall ofthe prison; and they heard a great wailing and lamenting from thedungeon. Said Gurhyr, "Who is it that laments in this house ofstone?" "Alas! it is Mabon, the son of Modron, who is hereimprisoned; and no imprisonment was ever so grievous as mine. ""Hast thou hope of being released for gold or for silver, or forany gifts of wealth, or through battle and fighting?" "By fightingwill what ever I may gain be obtained. "

Then they went thence, and returned to Arthur, and they told himwhere Mabon, the son of Modron, was imprisoned. And Arthursummoned the warriors of the island, and they journeyed as far asGloucester, to the place where Mabon was in prison. Kay and Bedwyrwent upon the shoulders of the fish, whilst the warriors of Arthurattacked the castle. And Kay broke through the wall into thedungeon, and brought away the prisoner upon his back, whilst thefight was going on between the warriors. And Arthur returned home, and Mabon with him at liberty. 

On a certain day as Gurhyr Gwalstat was walking over a mountain, he heard a wailing and a grievous cry. And when he heard it, hesprang forward and went towards it. And when he came there, he sawa fire burning among the turf, and an ant-hill nearly surroundedwith the fire. And he drew his sword, and smote off the ant-hillclose to the earth, so that it escaped being burned in the fire. And the ants said to him, "Receive from us the blessing of Heaven, and that which no man can give, we give thee. " Then they fetchedthe nine bushels of flax-seed which Yspadaden Penkawr had requiredof Kilwich, and they brought the full measure, without lackingany, except one flax-seed, and that the lame pismire brought inbefore night. 

Then said Arthur, "Which of the marvels will it be best for us toseek next?" "It will be best to seek for the two cubs of the wolfGast Rhymhi. "

"Is it known, " said Arthur, "where she is?" "She is in AberCleddyf, " said one. Then Arthur went to the house of Tringad, inAber Cleddyf, and he inquired of him whether he had heard of herthere. "She has often slain my herds, and she is there below in acave in Aber Cleddyf. "

Ther Arthur went in his ship Prydwen by sea, and the others wentby land to hunt her. And they surrounded her and her two cubs, andtook them and carried them away. 

As Kay and Bedwyr sat on a beacon-cairn on the summit ofPlinlimmon, in the highest wind that ever was, they looked aroundthem and saw a great smoke, afar off. Then said Kay, "By the handof my friend, yonder is the fire of a robber. " Then they hastenedtowards the smoke, and they came so near to it that they could seeDillus Varwawc scorching a wild boar. "Behold, yonder is thegreatest robber that ever fled from Arthur, " said Bedwyr to Kay. "Dost thou know him?" "I do know him, " answered Kay; "he is DillusVarwarc, and no leash in the world will be able to hold the cubsof Gast Rhymi, save a leash made from the beard of him thou seestyonder. And even that will be useless unless his beard be pluckedout alive, with wooden tweezers; for if dead it will be brittle. ""What thinkest thou that we should do concerning this?" saidBedwyr. "Let us suffer him. " said Kay, "to eat as much as he willof the meat, and after that he will fall asleep. " And during thattime they employed themselves in making the wooden tweezers. Andwhen Kay knew certainly that he was asleep, he made a pit underhis feet, and he struck him a violent blow, and squeezed him intothe pit. And there they twitched out his beard completely with thewooden tweezers, and after that they slew him altogether. And fromthence they went, and took the leash made of Dillus Varwawc'sbeard, and they gave it into Arthur's hand. 

Thus they got all the marvels that Yspadaden Penkawr had requiredof Kilwich; and they set forward, and took the marvels to hiscourt. And Kilwich said to Yspadaden Penkawr, "Is thy daughtermine now?" "She is thine, " said he, "but therefore needest thounot thank me, but Arthur, who hath accomplished this for thee. "Then Goreu, the son of Custennin, the herdsman, whose brothersYspadaden Penkawr had slain, seized him by the hair of his head, and dragged him after him to the keep, and cut off his head, andplaced it on a stake on the citadel. Then they took possession ofhis castle, and of his treasures. And that night Olwen becameKilwich's bride, and she continued to be his wife as long as shelived. 

CHAPTER XIII

TALIESIN

Gwyddno Garanhir was sovereign of Gwaelod, a territory borderingon the sea. And he possessed a weir upon the strand between Dyviand Aberystwyth, near to his own castle, and the value of anhundred pounds was taken in that weir every May eve. And Gwyddnohad an only son named Elphin, the most hapless of youths, and themost needy. And it grieved his father sore, for he thought that hewas born in an evil hour. By the advice of his council, his fatherhad granted him the drawing of the weir that year, to see if goodluck would ever befall him, and to give him something wherewith tobegin the world. And this was on the twenty-ninth of April. 

The next day, when Elphin went to look, there was nothing in theweir but a leathern bag upon a pole of the weir. Then said theweir-ward unto Elphin, "All thy ill-luck aforetime was nothing tothis; and now thou hast destroyed the virtues of the weir, whichalways yielded the value of an hundred pounds every May eve; andto-night there is nothing but this leathern skin within it. " "Hownow, " said Elphin, "there may be therein the value of a hundredpounds. " Well! they took up the leathern bag, and he who opened itsaw the forehead of an infant, the fairest that ever was seen; andhe said, "Behold a radiant brow?" (In the Welsh language, taliesin. ) "Taliesin be he called, " said Elphin. And he lifted thebag in his arms, and, lamenting his bad luck, placed the boysorrowfully behind him. And he made his horse amble gently, thatbefore had been trotting, and he carried him as softly as if hehad been sitting in the easiest chair in the world. And presentlythe boy made a Consolation, and praise to Elphin; and theConsolation was as you may here see:

 "Fair Elphin, cease to lament! Never in Gwyddno's weir Was there such good luck as this night. Being sad will not avail; Better to trust in God than to forbode ill; Weak and small as I am, On the foaming beach of the ocean, In the day of trouble I shall be Of more service to thee than three hundred salmon. "

This was the first poem that Taliesin ever sung, being to consoleElphin in his grief for that the produce of the weir was lost, andwhat was worse, that all the world would consider that it wasthrough his fault and ill-luck. Then Elphin asked him what hewas, whether man or spirit. And he sung thus:

 "I have been formed a comely person; Although I am but little, I am highly gifted; Into a dark leathern bag I was thrown, And on a boundless sea I was sent adrift. From seas and from mountains God brings wealth to the fortunate man. "

Then came Elphin to the house of Gwyddno, his father, and Taliesinwith him. Gwyddno asked him if he had had a good haul at the weir, and he told him that he had got that which was better than fish. "What was that?" said Gwyddno. "A bard, " said Elphin. Then saidGwyddno, "Alas! what will he profit thee?" And Taliesin himselfreplied and said, "He will profit him more than the weir everprofited thee. " Asked Gwyddno, "Art thou able to speak, and thouso little?" And Taliesin answered him, "I am better able to speakthan thou to question me. " "Let me hear what thou canst say, "quoth Gwyddno. Then Taliesin sang:

 "Three times have I been born, I know by meditation; All the sciences of the world are collected in my breast, For I know what has been, and what hereafter will occur. "

Elphin gave his haul to his wife, and she nursed him tenderly andlovingly. Thenceforward Elphin increased in riches more and more, day after day, and in love and favor with the king; and thereabode Taliesin until he was thirteen years old, when Elphin, sonof Gwyddno, went by a Christmas invitation to his uncle, MaelganGwynedd, who held open court at Christmas-tide in the castle ofDyganwy, for all the number of his lords of both degrees, bothspiritual and temporal, with a vast and thronged host of knightsand squires. And one arose and said, "Is there in the whole worlda king so great as Maelgan, or one on whom Heaven has bestowed somany gifts as upon him;--form, and beauty, and meekness, andstrength, besides all the powers of the soul?" And together withthese they said that Heaven had given one gift that exceeded allthe others, which was the beauty, and grace, and wisdom, andmodesty of his queen, whose virtues surpassed those of all theladies and noble maidens throughout the whole kingdom. And withthis they put questions one to another, Who had braver men? Whohad fairer or swifter horses or greyhounds? Who had more skilfulor wiser bards than Maelgan?

When they had all made an end of their praising the king and hisgifts, it befell that Elphin spoke on this wise. "Of a truth, nonebut a king may vie with a king; but were he not a king, I wouldsay that my wife was as virtuous as any lady in the kingdom, andalso that I have a bard who is more skilful than all the king'sbards. " In a short space some of his fellows told the king all theboastings of Elphin; and the king ordered him to be thrown into astrong prison, until he might show the truth as to the virtues ofhis wife, and the wisdom of his bard. 

Now when Elphin had been put in a tower of the castle, with athick chain about his feet (it is said that it was a silver chain, because he was of royal blood), the king, as the story relates, sent his son Rhun to inquire into the demeanor of Elphin's wife. Now Rhun was the most graceless man in the world, and there wasneither wife nor maiden with whom he held converse but was evilspoken of. While Rhun went in haste towards Elphin's dwelling, being fully minded to bring disgrace upon his wife, Taliesin toldhis mistress how that the king had placed his master in durance inprison, and how that Rhun was coming in haste to strive to bringdisgrace upon her. Wherefore he caused his mistress to array oneof the maids of her kitchen in her apparel; which the noble ladygladly did, and she loaded her hands with the best rings that sheand her husband possessed. 

In this guise Taliesin caused his mistress to put the maiden tosit at the board in her room at supper; and he made her to seem asher mistress, and the mistress to seem as the maid. And when theywere in due time seated at their supper, in the manner that hasbeen said, Rhun suddenly arrived at Elphin's dwelling, and wasreceived with joy, for the servants knew him; and they brought himto the room of their mistress, in the semblance of whom the maidrose up from supper and welcomed him gladly. And afterwards shesat down to supper again, and Rhun with her. Then Rhun beganjesting with the maid, who still kept the semblance of hermistress. And verily this story shows that the maiden became sointoxicated that she fell asleep; and the story relates that itwas a powder that Rhun put into the drink, that made her sleep sosoundly that she never felt it when he cut off from her hand herlittle finger, whereon was the signet ring of Elphin, which he hadsent to his wife as a token a short time before. And Rhun returnedto the king with the finger and the ring as a proof, to show thathe had cut it off from her hand without her awaking from her sleepof intemperance. 

The king rejoiced greatly at these tidings, and he sent for hiscouncillors, to whom he told the whole story from the beginning. And he caused Elphin to be brought out of prison, and he chidedhim because of his boast. And he spake on this wise: "Elphin, beit known to thee beyond a doubt, that it is but folly for a man totrust in the virtues of his wife further than he can see her; andthat thou mayest be certain of thy wife's vileness, behold herfinger, with thy signet ring upon it, which was cut from her handlast night, while she slept the sleep of intoxication. " Then thusspake Elphin: "With thy leave, mighty king, I cannot deny my ring, for it is known of many; but verily I assert that the fingeraround which it is was never attached to the hand of my wife; forin truth and certainty there are three notable things pertainingto it, none of which ever belonged to any of my wife's fingers. The first of the three is, that it is certainly known to me thatthis ring would never remain upon her thumb, whereas you canplainly see that it is hard to draw it over the joint of thelittle finger of the hand whence this was cut. The second thingis, that my wife has never let pass one Saturday since I haveknown her, without paring her nails before going to bed, and youcan see fully that the nail of this little finger has not beenpared for a month. The third is, truly, that the hand whence thisfinger came was kneading rye dough within three days before thefinger was cut therefrom, and I can assure your highness that mywife has never kneaded rye dough since my wife she has been. "

The king was mightily wroth with Elphin for so stoutlywithstanding him, respecting the goodness of his wife; whereforehe ordered him to his prison a second time, saying that he shouldnot be loosed thence until he had proved the truth of his boast, as well concerning the wisdom of his bard as the virtues of hiswife. 

In the meantime his wife and Taliesin remained joyful at Elphin'sdwelling. And Taliesin showed his mistress how that Elphin was inprison because of them; but he bade her be glad, for that he wouldgo to Maelgan's court to free his master. So he took leave of hismistress, and came to the court of Maelgan, who was going to sitin his hall, and dine in his royal state, as it was the custom inthose days for kings and princes to do at every chief feast. Assoon as Taliesin entered the hall he placed himself in a quietcorner, near the place where the bards and the minstrels were wontto come, in doing their service and duty to the king, as is thecustom at the high festivals, when the bounty is proclaimed. So, when the bards and the heralds came to cry largess, and toproclaim the power of the king, and his strength, at the momentwhen they passed by the corner wherein he was crouching, Taliesinpouted out his lips after them, and played "Blerwm, blerwm!" withhis finger upon his lips. Neither took they much notice of him asthey went by but proceeded forward till they came before the king, unto whom they made their obeisance with their bodies, as theywere wont, without speaking a single word, but pouting out theirlips, and making mouths at the king, playing, "Blerwm, blerwm!"upon their lips with their fingers, as they had seen the boy do. This sight caused the king to wonder, and to deem within himselfthat they were drunk with many liquors. Wherefore he commanded oneof his lords, who served at the board, to go to them and desirethem to collect their wits, and to consider where they stood, andwhat it was fitting for them to do. And this lord did so gladly. But they ceased not from their folly any more than before. Whereupon he sent to them a second time, and a third, desiringthem to go forth from the hall. At the last the king ordered oneof his squires to give a blow to the chief of them, named HeininVardd; and the squire took a broom and struck him on the head, sothat he fell back in his seat. Then he arose, and went on hisknees, and besought leave of the king's grace to show that thistheir fault was not through want of knowledge, neither throughdrunkenness, but by the influence of some spirit that was in thehall. And he spoke on this wise: "O honorable king, be it known toyour grace that not from the strength of drink, or of too muchliquor, are we dumb, but through the influence of a spirit thatsits in the corner yonder, in the form of a child. " Forthwith theking commanded the squire to fetch him; and he went to the nookwhere Taliesin sat, and brought him before the king, who asked himwhat he was, and whence he came. And he answered the king inverse:

 "Primary chief bard am I to Elphin, And my native country is the region of the summer stars; I have been in Asia with Noah in the ark, I have seen the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, I was in India when Rome was built, I have now come here to the remnant of Troia. "

When the king and his nobles had heard the song, they wonderedmuch, for they had never heard the like from a boy so young as he. And when the king knew that he was the bard of Elphin he badeHeinin, his first and wisest bard, to answer Taliesin, and tostrive with him. But when he came he could do no other than play"Blerwm!" on his lips; and when he sent for the others of the fourand twenty bards, they all did likewise, and could do no other. And Maelgan asked the boy Taliesin what was his errand, and heanswered him in song:

 "Elphin, the son of Gwyddno, Is in the land of Artro, Secured by thirteen locks, For praising his instructor. Therefore I, Taliesin, Chief of the bards of the west, Will loosen Elphin Out of a golden fetter. "

Then he sang to them a riddle:

 "Discover thou what is The strong creature from before the flood, Without flesh, without bone, Without vein, without blood, Without head, without feet; It will neither be older nor younger Than at the beginning. Behold how the sea whitens When first it comes, When it comes from the south, When it strikes on coasts It is in the field, it is in the wood, But the eye cannot perceive it. One Being has prepared it, By a tremendous blast, To wreak vengeance On Maelgan Gwynedd. "

While he was thus singing his verse, there arose a mighty storm ofwind, so that the king and all his nobles thought that the castlewould fall upon their heads. And the king caused them to fetchElphin in haste from his dungeon, and placed him before Taliesin. And it is said that immediately he sung a verse, so that thechains opened from about his feet. 

After that Taliesin brought Elphin's wife before them, and showedthat she had not one finger wanting. And in this manner did he sethis master free from prison, and protect the innocence of hismistress, and silence the bards so that not one of them dared tosay a word. Right glad was Elphin, right glad was Taliesin. 

HERO MYTHS OF THE BRITISH RACE

BEOWULF

Notable among the names of heroes of the British race is that ofBeowulf, which appeals to all English-speaking people in a veryspecial way, since he is the one hero in whose story we may seethe ideals of our English forefathers before they left theirContinental home to cross to the islands of Britain. 

Although this hero had distinguished himself by numerous feats ofstrength during his boyhood and early youth, it was as thedeliverer of Hrothgar, king of Denmark, from the monster Grendelthat he first gained wide renown. Grendel was half monster andhalf man, and had his abode in the fen-fastnesses in the vicinityof Hrothgar's residence. Night after night he would steal into theking's great palace called Heorot and slay sometimes as many asthirty at one time of the knights sleeping there. 

Beowulf put himself at the head of a selected band of warriors, went against the monster, and after a terrible fight slew it. Thefollowing night Grendel's mother, a fiend scarcely less terriblethan her son, carried off one of Hrothgar's boldest thanes. Oncemore Beowulf went to the help of the Danish king, followed theshe-monster to her lair at the bottom of a muddy lake in the midstof the swamp, and with his good sword Hrunting and his ownmuscular arms broke the sea-woman's neck. 

Upon his return to his own country of the Geats, loaded withhonors bestowed upon him by Hrothgar, Beowulf served the king ofGeatland as the latter's most trusted counsellor and champion. When, after many years, the king fell before an enemy, the Geatsunanimously chose Beowulf for their new king. His fame as awarrior kept his country free from invasion, and his wisdom as astatesman increased its prosperity and happiness. 

In the fiftieth year of Beowulf's reign, however, a great terrorfell upon the land in the way of a monstrous fire-dragon, whichflew forth by night from its den in the rocks, lighting up theblackness with its blazing breath, and burning houses andhomesteads, men and cattle, with the flames from its mouth. Whenthe news came to Beowulf that his people were suffering and dying, and that no warrior dared to risk his life in an effort to deliverthe country from this deadly devastation, the aged king took uphis shield and sword and went forth to his last fight. At theentrance of the dragon's cave Beowulf raised his voice and shouteda furious defiance to the awesome guardian of the den. Roaringhideously and napping his glowing wings together, the dragonrushed forth and half flew, half sprang, on Beowulf. Then began afearful combat, which ended in Beowulf's piercing the dragon'sscaly armor and inflicting a mortal wound, but alas! in himselfbeing given a gash in the neck by his opponent's poisoned fangswhich resulted in his death. As he lay stretched on the ground, his head supported by Wiglaf, an honored warrior who had helped inthe fight with the dragon, Beowulf roused himself to say, as hegrasped Wiglaf's hand:

 "Thou must now look to the needs of the nation; Here dwell I no longer, for Destiny calleth me! Bid thou my warriors after my funeral pyre Build me a burial-cairn high on the sea-cliff's head; So that the seafarers Beowulf's Barrow Henceforth shall name it, they who drive far and wide Over the mighty flood their foamy keels. Thou art the last of all the kindred of Wagmund! Wyrd has swept all my kin, all the brave chiefs away! Now must I follow them!"

These last words spoken, the king of the Geats, brave to seekdanger and brave to look on death and Fate undaunted, fell backdead. According to his last desires, his followers gathered woodand piled it on the cliff-head. Upon this funeral pyre was laidBeowulf's body and consumed to ashes. Then, upon the same cliff ofHronesness, was erected a huge burial cairn, wide-spread andlofty, to be known thereafter as Beowulf's Barrow. 

CUCHULAIN, CHAMPION OF IRELAND

Among all the early literatures of Europe, there are two which, atexactly opposite corners of the continent, display most strikinglysimilar characteristics. These are the Greek and the Irish, andthe legend of the Irish champion Cuchulain, which well illustratesthe similarity of the literatures, bears so close a resemblance tothe story of Achilles as to win for this hero the title of "theIrish Achilles. " Certainly in reckless courage, power of inspiringdread, sense of personal merit, and frankness of speech the Irishhero is fully equal to the mighty Greek. 

Cuchulain was the nephew of King Conor of Ulster, son of hissister Dechtire, and it is said that his father was no mortal man, but the great god Lugh of the Long Hand. Cuchulain was brought upby King Conor himself, and even while he was still a boy his famespread all over Ireland. His warlike deeds were those of a provedwarrior, not of a child of nursery age; and by the time Cuchulainwas seventeen he was without peer among the champions of Ulster. 

Upon Cuchulain's marriage to Emer, daughter of Forgall the Wily, aDruid of great power, the couple took up their residence atArmagh, the capital of Ulster, under the protection of King Conor. Here there was one chief, Bricriu of the Bitter Tongue, who, likeThersites among the Grecian leaders, delighted in making mischief. Soon he had on foot plans for stirring up strife among the heroesof Ulster, leaders among whom were the mighty Laegaire, ConallCearnach, cousin of Cuchulain, and Cuchulain himself. Inviting themembers of King Conor's court to dinner, Bricriu arranged that acontest should arise over who should have the "champion'sportion, " and so successful was he that, to avoid a bloody fight, the three heroes mentioned decided to submit their claims to thechampionship of Ireland to King Ailill of Connaught. 

Ailill put the heroes to an unexpected test. Their dinner wasserved them in a separate room, into which three magic beasts, inthe shape of monstrous cats, were sent by the king. When they sawthem Laegire and Conall rose from their meal, climbed among therafters, and stayed there all night. Cuchulain waited until onecat attacked him, and then, drawing his sword, struck the monster. It showed no further sign of fight, and at daybreak the magicbeasts disappeared. 

As Laegire and Conall claimed that this test was an unfair one, Ailill sent the three rivals to Curoi of Kerry, a just and wiseman, who set out to discover by wizardry and enchantments the bestamong the heroes. In turn they stood watch outside Curoi's castle, where Laegire and Conall were overcome by a huge giant, who hurledspears of mighty oak trees, and ended by throwing them over thewall into the courtyard. Cuchulain alone withstood the giant, whereupon he was attacked by other magic foes. Among these was adragon, which flew on horrible wings from a neighboring lake, andseemed ready to devour everything in its way. Cuchulain sprang up, giving his wonderful hero-leap, thrust his arm into the dragon'smouth and down its throat, and tore out its heart. After themonster fell dead, he cut off its scaly head. 

As even yet Cuchulain's opponents would not admit hischampionship, they were all three directed to return to Armagh, toawait Curoi's judgment. Here it happened that all the Ulsterheroes were in the great hall one night, except Cuchulain and hiscousin Conall. As they sat in order of rank, a terrible stranger, gigantic in stature, hideous of aspect, with ravening yellow eyes, entered. In his hand he bore an enormous axe, with keen andshining edge. Upon King Conor's inquiring his business there, thestranger replied:

"Behold my axe! The man who will grasp it to-day may cut my headoff with it, provided that I may, in like manner, cut off his headto-morrow. If you have no champion who dare face me, I will saythat Ulster has lost her courage and is dishonored. "

At once Laegire accepted the challenge. The giant laid his head ona block, and at a blow the hero severed it from the body. Thereupon the giant arose, took the head and the axe, and thus, headless, strode from the hall. But the following night, when hereturned, sound as ever, to claim the fulfilment of Laegire'spromise, the latter's heart failed him and he did not comeforward. The stranger then jeered at the men of Ulster becausetheir great champion durst not keep his agreement, nor face theblow he should receive in return for the one he gave. 

The men of Ulster were utterly ashamed, but Conall Cearnach, whowas present that night, made a new agreement with the stranger. Hegave a blow which beheaded the giant, but again, when the latterreturned whole and sound on the following evening, the championwas not to be found. 

Now it was the turn of Cuchulain, who, as the others had done, cutoff the giant's head at one stroke. The next day the members ofConor's court watched Cuchulain to see what he would do. Theywould not have been surprised if he had failed like the others, who now were present. The champion, however, showed no signs offailing or retreat. He sat sorrowfully in his place, and with asigh said to King Conor as they waited: "Do not leave this placetill all is over. Death is coming to me very surely, but I mustfulfil my agreement, for I would rather die than break my word. "

Towards the close of day the stranger strode into the hallexultant. 

"Where is Cuchulain?" he cried. 

"Here I am, " was the reply. 

"Ah, poor boy! your speech is sad to-night, and the fear of deathlies heavy on you; but at least you have redeemed your word andhave not failed me. "

The youth rose from his seat and went towards him, as he stoodwith the great axe ready, and knelt to receive the blow. 

The hero of Ulster laid his head on the block; but the giant wasnot satisfied. "Stretch out your neck better, " said he. 

"You are playing with me, to torment me, " said Cuchulain. "Slay menow speedily, for I did not keep you waiting last night. "

However, he stretched out his neck as ordered, and the strangerraised his axe till it crashed upwards through the rafters of thehall, like the crash of trees falling in a storm. When the axecame down with a terrific sound all men looked fearfully atCuchulain. The descending axe had not even touched him; it hadcome down with the blunt side on the ground, and the youth kneltthere unharmed. Smiling at him, and leaning on his axe, stood noterrible and hideous stranger, but Curoi of Kerry, come to givehis decision at last. 

"Rise up, Cuchulain, " said Curoi. "There is none among all theheroes of Ulster to equal you in courage and loyalty and truth. The Championship of the Heroes of Ireland is yours from this dayforth, and the Champion's Portion at all feasts; and to your wifeI adjudge the first place among all the women of Ulster. Woe tohim who dares to dispute this decision!" Thereupon Curoi vanished, and the warriors gathered around Cuchulain, and all with one voiceacclaimed him the Champion of the Heroes of all Ireland--a titlewhich has clung to him until this day. 

This is one of many stories told of the Irish champion, whosedeeds of bravery would fill many pages. Cuchulain finally came tohis end on the field of battle, after a fight in which hedisplayed all his usual gallantry but in which unfair means wereused to overcome him. 

For Wales and for England during centuries Arthur has been therepresentative "very gentle perfect knight. " In a similar way, inEngland's sister isle, Cuchulain stands ever for the highestideals of the Irish Gaels. 

HEREWARD THE WAKE

In Hereward the Wake (or "Watchful") is found one of those heroeswhose date can be ascertained with a fair amount of exactness andyet in whose story occur mythological elements which seem tobelong to all ages. The folklore of primitive races is a greatstorehouse whence a people can choose tales and heroic deeds toglorify its own national hero, careless that the same tales anddeeds have done duty for other peoples and other heroes. Hence ithappens that Hereward the Saxon, a patriot hero as real and actualas Nelson or George Washington, whose deeds were recorded in proseand verse within forty years of his death, was even thensurrounded by a cloud of romance and mystery, which hid invagueness his family, his marriage, and even his death. 

Briefly it may be stated that Hereward was a native ofLincolnshire, and was in his prime about 1070. In that year hejoined a party of Danes who appeared in England, attackedPeterborough and sacked the abbey there, and afterward took refugein the Isle of Ely. Here he was besieged by William the Conqueror, and was finally forced to yield to the Norman. He thus came tostand for the defeated Saxon race, and his name has been passeddown as that of the darling hero of the Saxons. For his splendiddefence of Ely they forgave his final surrender to Duke William;they attributed to him all the virtues supposed to be inherent inthe free-born, and all the glorious valor on which the Englishprided themselves; and, lastly, they surrounded his death with ahalo of desperate fighting, and made his last conflict aswonderful as that of Roland at Roncesvalles. If Roland is theideal of Norman feudal chivalry, Hereward is equally the ideal ofAnglo-Saxon sturdy manliness and knighthood. 

An account of one of Hereward's adventures as a youth will serveas illustration of the stories told of his prowess. On an enforcedvisit to Cornwall, he found that King Alef, a petty British chief, had betrothed his fair daughter to a terrible Pictish giant, breaking off, in order to do it, her troth-plight with PrinceSigtryg of Waterford, son of a Danish king in Ireland. Hereward, ever chivalrous, picked a quarrel with the giant and killed him infair fight, whereupon the king threw him into prison. In thefollowing night, however, the released princess arranged that thegallant Saxon should be freed and sent hot-foot for her lover, Prince Sigtryg. After many adventures Hereward reached the prince, who hastened to return to Cornwall with the young hero. But to thegrief of both, they learned upon their arrival that the princesshad just been betrothed to a wild Cornish hero, Haco, and thewedding feast was to be held that very day. Sigtryg at once sent atroop of forty Danes to King Alef demanding the fulfilment of thetroth-plight between himself and his daughter, and threateningvengeance if it were broken. To this threat the king returned noanswer, and no Dane came back to tell of their reception. 

Sigtryg would have waited till morning, trusting in the honor ofthe king, but Hereward disguised himself as a minstrel andobtained admission to the bridal feast, where he soon won applauseby his beautiful singing. The bridegroom, Haco, in a raptureoffered him any boon he liked to ask, but he demanded only a cupof wine from the hands of the bride. When she brought it to him heflung into the empty cup the betrothal ring, the token she hadsent to Sigtryg, and said: "I thank thee, lady, and would rewardthee for thy gentleness to a wandering minstrel; I give back thecup, richer than before by the kind thoughts of which it bears thetoken. " The princess looked at him, gazed into the goblet, and sawher ring; then, looking again, she recognized her deliverer andknew that rescue was at hand. 

While men feasted Hereward listened and talked, and found out thatthe forty Danes were prisoners, to be released on the morrow whenHaco was sure of his bride, but released useless and miserable, since they would be turned adrift blinded. Haco was taking hislovely bride back to his own land, and Hereward saw that anyrescue, to be successful, must be attempted on the march. 

Returning to Sigtryg, the young Saxon told all that he hadlearned, and the Danes planned an ambush in the ravine where Hacohad decided to blind and set free his captives. The whole wascarried out exactly as Hereward arranged it. The Cornishmen, withthe Danish captives, passed first without attack; next came Haco, riding grim and ferocious beside his silent bride, he exulting inhis success, she looking eagerly for any signs of rescue. As theypassed Hereward sprang from his shelter, crying, "Upon them, Danes, and set your brethren free!" and himself struck down Hacoand smote off his head. There was a short struggle, but soon therescued Danes were able to aid their deliverers, and the Cornishguards were all slain; the men of King Alef, never very zealousfor the cause of Haco, fled, and the Danes were left masters ofthe field. 

Sigtryg had in the meantime seen to the safety of the princess, and now, placing her between himself and Hereward, he escorted herto the ship, which soon brought them to Waterford and a happybridal. The Prince and Princess of Waterford always recognized inHereward their deliverer and best friend, and in their gratitudewished him to dwell with them always; but the hero's roving anddaring temper forbade his settling down, but rather urged him onto deeds of arms in other lands, where he quickly won a renownsecond to none. 

ROBIN HOOD

Among the earliest heirlooms of the Anglo-Saxon tongue are thesongs and legends of Robin Hood and his merry outlaws, which havecharmed readers young and old for more than six hundred years. These entertaining stories date back to the time when Chaucerwrote his "Canterbury Tales, " when the minstrel and scribe stoodin the place of the more prim and precise modern printed book. 

The question of whether or not Robin Hood was a real person hasbeen asked for many years, just as a similar question has beenasked about William Tell and others whom everyone would muchrather accept on faith. It cannot be answered by a brief "yes" or"no, " even though learned men have pored over ancient records andhave written books on the subject. According to the general beliefRobin was an outlaw in the reign of Richard I, when in the depthsof Sherwood Forest he entertained one hundred tall men, all goodarchers, with the spoil he took; but "he suffered no woman to beoppressed or otherwise molested; poore men's goods he spared, abundantlie relieving them with that which by theft he got fromabbeys and houses of rich carles. " Consequently Robin was animmense favorite with the common people. 

This popularity extended from the leader to all the members of hishardy band. "God save Robin Hood and all his good yeomanry" is theending of many old ballads. The clever archer who could outshoothis fellows, the brave yeoman inured to blows, and the man whocould be true to his friends through thick and thin were favoritesfor all time; and they have been idealized in the persons of RobinHood and his merry outlaws. 

One of the best-known stories of this picturesque figure of earlyEnglish times is that given by Sir Walter Scott in "Ivanhoe, "concerning the archery contest during the rule or misrule ofPrince John, in the absence of Richard from the kingdom. RobinHood, under the assumed name of Locksley, boldly presents himselfat a royal tournament at Ashby, as competitor for the prize inshooting with the long-bow. From the eight or ten archers whoenter the contest, the number finally narrows down to two, --Hubert, a forester in the service of one of the king's nobles, andLocksley or Robin Hood. Hubert takes the first shot in the finaltrial of skill, and lands his arrow within the inner ring of thetarget, but not exactly in the centre. 

"'You have not allowed for the wind, Hubert, ' said Locksley, 'orthat had been a better shot. '

"So saying, and without showing the least anxiety to pause uponhis aim, Locksley stepped to the appointed station, and shot hisarrow as carelessly in appearance as if he had not even looked atthe mark. He was speaking almost at the instant that the shaftleft the bow-string, yet it alighted in the target two inchesnearer to the white spot which marked the centre than that ofHubert. 

"'By the light of Heaven!' said Prince John to Hubert, 'an thousuffer that runagate knave to overcome thee, thou art worthy ofthe gallows!'

"Hubert had but one set speech for all occasions. 'An yourhighness were to hang me, ' he said, 'a man can but do his best. Nevertheless, my grandsire drew a good bow--'

"'The foul fiend on thy grandsire and all his generation!'interrupted John; 'shoot, knave, and shoot thy best, or it shallbe worse for thee!'

"Thus exhorted, Hubert resumed his place, and not neglecting thecaution which he had received from his adversary, he made thenecessary allowance for a very light air of wind, which had justrisen, and shot so successfully that his arrow alighted in thevery centre of the target. 

"'A Hubert! a Hubert!' shouted the populace, more interested in aknown person than in a stranger. 'In the clout!--in the clout!--aHubert forever!'

"'Thou canst not mend that shot, Locksley, ' said the Prince, withan insulting smile. 

"'I will notch his shaft for him, however, ' replied Locksley. 

"And letting fly his arrow with a little more precaution thanbefore, it lighted right upon that of his competitor, which itsplit to shivers. The people who stood around were so astonishedat his wonderful dexterity, that they could not even give vent totheir surprise in their usual clamor. 'This must be the devil, andno man of flesh and blood, ' whispered the yeomen to each other;'such archery was never seen since a bow was first bent inBritain. '

"'And now, ' said Locksley, 'I will crave your Grace's permissionto plant such a mark as is used in the North Country; and welcomeevery brave yeoman who shall try a shot at it to win a smile fromthe bonny lass he loves best. '"

Locksley thereupon sets up a willow wand, six feet long and asthick as a man's thumb. Hubert is forced to decline the honor oftaking part in such a trial of archery skill, but his rival easilysplits the wand at a distance of three hundred feet and carriesoff the prize. 

"Even Prince John, in admiration of Locksley's skill, lost for aninstant his dislike to his person. 'These twenty nobles, ' he said, 'which, with the bugle, thou hast fairly won, are thine own; wewill make them fifty, if thou wilt take livery and service with usas a yeoman of our bodyguard, and be near to our person. For neverdid so strong a hand bend a bow, or so true an eye direct ashaft. '" [Footnote: Ivanhoe, Vol. 1, chap. XIII. ]

Locksley, however, declares that it is impossible for him to enterthe Prince's service, generously shares his prize with the worthyHubert, and retires once more to his beloved haunts among thelights and shadows of the good greenwood. 

LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE

INTRODUCTION

Those who have investigated the origin of the romantic fablesrelating to Charlemagne and his peers are of opinion that thedeeds of Charles Martel, and perhaps of other Charleses, have beenblended in popular tradition with those properly belonging toCharlemagne. It was indeed a most momentous era; and if ourreaders will have patience, before entering on the perusal of thefabulous annals which we are about to lay before them, to take arapid survey of the real history of the times, they will find ithardly less romantic than the tales of the poets. 

In the century beginning from the year 600, the countriesbordering upon the native land of our Saviour, to the east andsouth, had not yet received his religion. Arabia was the seat ofan idolatrous religion resembling that of the ancient Persians, who worshipped the sun, moon, and stars. In Mecca, in the year571, Mahomet was born, and here, at the age of forty, heproclaimed himself the prophet of God, in dignity as superior toChrist as Christ had been to Moses. Having obtained by slowdegrees a considerable number of disciples, he resorted to arms todiffuse his religion. The energy and zeal of his followers, aidedby the weakness of the neighboring nations, enabled him and hissuccessors to spread the sway of Arabia and the religion ofMahomet over the countries to the east as far as the Indus, northward over Persia and Asia Minor, westward over Egypt and thesouthern shores of the Mediterranean, and thence over theprincipal portion of Spain. All this was done within one hundredyears from the Hegira, or flight of Mahomet from Mecca to Medina, which happened in the year 622, and is the era from whichMahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of Christ. 

From Spain the way was open for the Saracens (so the followers ofMahomet were called) into France, the conquest of which, ifachieved, would have been followed very probably by that of allthe rest of Europe, and would have resulted in the banishment ofChristianity from the earth. For Christianity was not at that dayuniversally professed, even by those nations which we now regardas foremost in civilization. Great part of Germany, Britain, Denmark, and Russia were still pagan or barbarous. 

At that time there ruled in France, though without the title ofking, the first of those illustrious Charleses of whom we havespoken, Charles Martel, the grandfather of Charlemagne. TheSaracens of Spain had made incursions into France in 712 and 718, and had retired, carrying with them a vast booty. In 725, Anbessa, who was then the Saracen governor of Spain, crossed the Pyreneeswith a numerous army, and took by storm the strong town ofCarcassone. So great was the terror excited by this invasion, thatthe country for a wide extent submitted to the conqueror, and aMahometan governor for the province was appointed and installed atNarbonne. Anbessa, however, received a fatal wound in one of hisengagements, and the Saracens, being thus checked from furtheradvance, retired to Narbonne. 

In 732 the Saracens again invaded France under Abdalrahman, advanced rapidly to the banks of the Garonne, and laid siege toBordeaux. The city was taken by assault and delivered up to thesoldiery. The invaders still pressed forward, and spread over theterritories of Orleans, Auxerre and Sens. Their advanced partieswere suddenly called in by their chief, who had receivedinformation of the rich abbey of St. Martin of Tours, and resolvedto plunder and destroy it. 

Charles during all this time had done nothing to oppose theSaracens, for the reason that the portion of France over whichtheir incursions had been made was not at that time under hisdominion, but constituted an independent kingdom, under the nameof Aquitaine, of which Eude was king. But now Charles becameconvinced of the danger, and prepared to encounter it. Abdalrahmanwas advancing toward Tours, when intelligence of the approach ofCharles, at the head of an army of Franks, compelled him to fallback upon Poitiers, in order to seize an advantageous field ofbattle. 

Charles Martel had called together his warriors from every part ofhis dominions, and, at the head of such an army as had hardly everbeen seen in France, crossed the Loire, probably at Orleans, and, being joined by the remains of the army of Aquitaine, came insight of the Arabs in the month of October, 732. The Saracens seemto have been aware of the terrible enemy they were now toencounter, and for the first time these formidable conquerorshesitated. The two armies remained in presence during seven daysbefore either ventured to begin the attack; but at length thesignal for battle was given by Abdalrahman, and the immense massof the Saracen army rushed with fury on the Franks. But the heavyline of the Northern warriors remained like a rock, and theSaracens, during nearly the whole day, expended their strength invain attempts to make any impression upon them. At length, aboutfour o'clock in the afternoon, when Abdalrahman was preparing fora new and desperate attempt to break the line of the Franks, aterrible clamor was heard in the rear of the Saracens. It was KingEude, who, with his Aquitanians, had attacked their camp, and agreat part of the Saracen army rushed tumultuously from the fieldto protect their plunder. In this moment of confusion the line ofthe Franks advanced, and, sweeping the field before it, carriedfearful slaughter amongst the enemy. Abdalrahman made desperateefforts to rally his troops, but when he himself, with the bravestof his officers, fell beneath the swords of the Christians, allorder disappeared, and the remains of his army sought refuge intheir immense camp, from which Eude and his Aquitanians had beenrepulsed. It was now late, and Charles, unwilling to risk anattack on the camp in the dark, withdrew his army, and passed thenight in the plain, expecting to renew the battle in the morning. 

Accordingly, when daylight came, the Franks drew up in order ofbattle, but no enemy appeared; and when at last they ventured toapproach the Saracen camp they found it empty. The invaders hadtaken advantage of the night to begin their retreat, and werealready on their way back to Spain, leaving their immense plunderbehind to fall into the hands of the Franks. 

This was the celebrated battle of Tours, in which vast numbers ofthe Saracens were slain, and only fifteen hundred of the Franks. Charles received the surname of Martel (the Hammer) in consequenceof this victory. 

The Saracens, notwithstanding this severe blow, continued to holdtheir ground in the south of France; but Pepin, the son of CharlesMartel, who succeeded to his father's power, and assumed the titleof king, successively took from them the strong places they held;and in 759, by the capture of Narbonne, their capital, extinguished the remains of their power in France. 

Charlemagne, or Charles the Great, succeeded his father, Pepin, onthe throne in the year 768. This prince, though the hero ofnumerous romantic legends, appears greater in history than infiction. Whether we regard him as a warrior or as a legislator, asa patron of learning or as the civilizer of a barbarous nation, heis entitled to our warmest admiration. Such he is in history; butthe romancers represent him as often weak and passionate, thevictim of treacherous counsellors, and at the mercy of turbulentbarons, on whose prowess he depends for the maintenance of histhrone. The historical representation is doubtless the true one, for it is handed down in trustworthy records, and is confirmed bythe events of the age. At the height of his power, the Frenchempire extended over what we now call France, Germany, Switzerland, Holland, Belgium, and great part of Italy. 

In the year 800 Charlemagne, being in Rome, whither he had gonewith a numerous army to protect the Pope, was crowned by thePontiff Emperor of the West. On Christmas day Charles entered theChurch of St. Peter, as if merely to take his part in thecelebration of the mass with the rest of the congregation. When heapproached the altar and stooped in the act of prayer the Popestepped forward and placed a crown of gold upon his head; andimmediately the Roman people shouted, "Life and victory to Charlesthe August, crowned by God the great and pacific Emperor of theRomans. " The Pope then prostrated himself before him, and paid himreverence, according to the custom established in the times of theancient Emperors, and concluded the ceremony by anointing him withconsecrated oil. 

Charlemagne's wars were chiefly against the pagan and barbarouspeople, who, under the name of Saxons, inhabited the countries nowcalled Hanover and Holland. He also led expeditions against theSaracens of Spain; but his wars with the Saracens were not carriedon, as the romances assert, in France, but on the soil of Spain. He entered Spain by the Eastern Pyrenees, and made an easyconquest of Barcelona and Pampeluna. But Saragossa refused to openher gates to him, and Charles ended by negotiating and accepting avast sum of gold as the price of his return over the Pyrenees. 

On his way back, he marched with his whole army through the gorgesof the mountains by way of the valleys of Engui, Eno, andRoncesvalles. The chief of this region had waited uponCharlemagne, on his advance, as a faithful vassal of the monarchy;but now, on the return of the Franks, he had called together allthe wild mountaineers who acknowledged him as their chief, andthey occupied the heights of the mountains under which the armyhad to pass. The main body of the troops met with no obstruction, and received no intimation of danger; but the rear-guard, whichwas considerably behind, and encumbered with its plunder, wasoverwhelmed by the mountaineers in the pass of Roncesvalles, andslain to a man. Some of the bravest of the Prankish chiefsperished on this occasion, among whom is mentioned Roland orOrlando, governor of the marches or frontier of Brittany. His namebecame famous in after times, and the disaster of Roncesvalles anddeath of Roland became eventually the most celebrated episode inthe vast cycle of romance. 

Though after this there were hostile encounters between the armiesof Charlemagne and the Saracens, they were of small account, andgenerally on the soil of Spain. Thus the historical foundation forthe stories of the romancers is but scanty, unless we suppose theevents of an earlier and of a later age to be incorporated withthose of Charlemagne's own time. 

There is, however, a pretended history, which for a long time wasadmitted as authentic, and attributed to Turpin, Archbishop ofRheims, a real personage of the time of Charlemagne. Its title is"History of Charles the Great and Orlando. " It is nowunhesitatingly considered as a collection of popular traditions, produced by some credulous and unscrupulous monk, who thought togive dignity to his romance by ascribing its authorship to a well-known and eminent individual. It introduces its pretended author, Bishop Turpin, in this manner:

"Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, the friend and secretary of Charlesthe Great, excellently skilled in sacred and profane literature, of a genius equally adapted to prose and verse, the advocate ofthe poor, beloved of God in his life and conversation, who oftenfought the Saracens, hand to hand, by the Emperor's side, herelates the acts of Charles the Great in one book, and flourishedunder Charles and his son Louis, to the year of our Lord eighthundred and thirty. "

The titles of some of Archbishop Turpin's chapters will show thenature of his history. They are these: "Of the Walls of Pampeluna, that fell of themselves. " "Of the War of the holy Facundus, wherethe Spears grew. " (Certain of the Christians fixed their spears inthe evening, erect in the ground, before the castle; and foundthem, in the morning, covered with bark and branches. ) "How theSun stood still for Three Days, and of the Slaughter of FourThousand Saracens. "

Turpin's history has perhaps been the source of the marvellousadventures which succeeding poets and romancers have accumulatedaround the names of Charlemagne and his Paladins, or Peers. ButAriosto and the other Italian poets have drawn from differentsources, and doubtless often from their own invention, numberlessother stories which they attribute to the same heroes, nothesitating to quote as their authority "the good Turpin, " thoughhis history contains no trace of them; and the more outrageous theimprobability, or rather the impossibility, of their narrations, the more attentive are they to cite "the Archbishop, " generallyadding their testimonial to his unquestionable veracity. 

The principal Italian poets who have sung the adventures of thepeers of Charlemagne are Pulci, Boiardo, and Ariosto. Thecharacters of Orlando, Rinaldo, Astolpho, Gano, and others, arethe same in all, though the adventures attributed to them aredifferent. Boiardo tells us of the loves of Orlando, Ariosto ofhis disappointment and consequent madness, Pulci of his death. 

Ogier, the Dane, is a real personage. History agrees with romancein representing him as a powerful lord who, originally fromDenmark and a Pagan, embraced Christianity, and took service underCharlemagne. He revolted from the Emperor, and was driven intoexile. He afterwards led one of those bands of piratical Northmenwhich ravaged France under the reigns of Charlemagne's degeneratesuccessors. The description which an ancient chronicler gives ofCharlemagne, as described by Ogier, is so picturesque, that we aretempted to transcribe it. Charlemagne was advancing to the siegeof Pavia. Didier, King of the Lombards, was in the city withOgier, to whom he had given refuge. When they learned that theking was approaching they mounted a high tower, whence they couldsee far and wide over the country. "They first saw advancing theengines of war, fit for the armies of Darius or Julius Caesar. 'There is Charlemagne, ' said Didier. 'No, ' said Ogier. The Lombardnext saw a vast body of soldiers, who filled all the plain. 'Certainly Charles advanced with that host, ' said the king. 'Notyet, ' replied Ogier. 'What hope for us, ' resumed the king, 'if hebrings with him a greater host than that?' At last Charlesappeared, his head covered with an iron helmet, his hands withiron gloves, his breast and shoulders with a cuirass of iron, hisleft hand holding an iron lance, while his right hand grasped hissword. Those who went before the monarch, those who marched at hisside, and those who followed him, all had similar arms. Ironcovered the fields and the roads; iron points reflected the raysof the sun. This iron, so hard, was borne by a people whose heartswere harder still. The blaze of the weapons flashed terror intothe streets of the city. "

This picture of Charlemagne in his military aspect would beincomplete without a corresponding one of his "mood of peace. " Oneof the greatest of modern historians, M. Guizot, has compared theglory of Charlemagne to a brilliant meteor, rising suddenly out ofthe darkness of barbarism to disappear no less suddenly in thedarkness of feudalism. But the light of this meteor was notextinguished, and reviving civilization owed much that waspermanently beneficial to the great Emperor of the Franks. Hisruling hand is seen in the legislation of his time, as well as inthe administration of the laws. He encouraged learning; he upheldthe clergy, who were the only peaceful and intellectual class, against the encroaching and turbulent barons; he was anaffectionate father, and watched carefully over the education ofhis children, both sons and daughters. Of his encouragement oflearning we will give some particulars. 

He caused learned men to be brought from Italy and from otherforeign countries to revive the public schools of France, whichhad been prostrated by the disorders of preceding times. Herecompensed these learned men liberally, and kept some of themnear himself, honoring them with his friendship. Of these the mostcelebrated is Alcuin, an Englishman, whose writings still remain, and prove him to have been both a learned and a wise man. With theassistance of Alcuin, and others like him, he founded an academyor royal school, which should have the direction of the studies ofall the schools of the kingdom. Charlemagne himself was a memberof this academy on equal terms with the rest. He attended itsmeetings, and fulfilled all the duties of an academician. Eachmember took the name of some famous man of antiquity. Alcuincalled himself Horace, another took the name of Augustin, a thirdof Pindar. Charlemagne, who knew the Psalms by heart, and who hadan ambition to be, according to his conception, A KING AFTER GOD'SOWN HEART, received from his brother academicians the name ofDavid. 

Of the respect entertained for him by foreign nations aninteresting proof is afforded in the embassy sent to him by theCaliph of the Arabians, the celebrated Haroun al Raschid, a princein character and conduct not unlike to Charlemagne. Theambassadors brought with them, besides other rich presents, aclock, the first that was seen in Europe, which excited universaladmiration. It had the form of a twelve-sided edifice with twelvedoors. These doors formed niches, in each of which was a littlestatue representing one of the hours. At the striking of the hourthe doors, one for each stroke, was seen to open, and from thedoors to issue as many of the little statues, which, following oneanother, marched gravely round the tower. The motion of the clockwas caused by water, and the striking was effected by balls ofbrass equal to the number of the hours, which fell upon a cymbalof the same metal, the number falling being determined by thedischarge of the water, which, as it sunk in the vessel, allowedtheir escape. 

Charlemagne was succeeded by his son Louis, a well-intentioned butfeeble prince, in whose reign the fabric reared by Charles beganrapidly to crumble. Louis was followed successively by twoCharleses, incapable princes, whose weak and often tyrannicalconduct is no doubt the source of incidents of that characterascribed in the romances to Charlemagne. 

The lawless and disobedient deportment of Charles's paladins, instances of which are so frequent in the romantic legends, wasalso a trait of the declining empire, but not of that ofCharlemagne. 

THE PEERS, OR PALADINS

The twelve most illustrious knights of Charlemagne were calledPeers, for the equality that reigned among them; while the name ofPaladins, also conferred on them, implies that they were inmatesof the palace and companions of the king. Their names are alwaysgiven alike by the romancers, yet we may enumerate the mostdistinguished of them as follows: Orlando or Roland (the formerthe Italian, the latter the French form of the name), favoritenephew of Charlemagne; Rinaldo of Montalban, cousin of Orlando;Namo, Duke of Bavaria; Salomon, king of Brittany; Turpin, theArchbishop; Astolpho, of England; Ogier, the Dane; Malagigi, theEnchanter; and Florismart, the friend of Orlando. There wereothers who are sometimes named as paladins, and the number cannotbe strictly limited to twelve. Charlemagne himself must be countedone, and Ganelon, or Gano, of Mayence, the treacherous enemy ofall the rest, was rated high on the list by his deluded sovereign, who was completely the victim of his arts. 

We shall introduce more particularly to our readers a few of theprincipal peers, leaving the others to make their own introductionas they appear in the course of our narrative. We begin withOrlando. 

ORLANDO

Milon, or Milone, a knight of great family, and distantly relatedto Charlemagne, having secretly married Bertha, the Emperor'ssister, was banished from France, and excommunicated by the Pope. After a long and miserable wandering on foot as mendicants Milonand his wife arrived at Sutri, in Italy, where they took refuge ina cave, and in that cave Orlando was born. There his mothercontinued, deriving a scanty support from the compassion of theneighboring peasants; while Milon, in quest of honor and fortune, went into foreign lands. Orlando grew up among the children of thepeasantry, surpassing them all in strength and manly graces. Amonghis companions in age, though in station far more elevated, wasOliver, son of the governor of the town. Between the two boys afeud arose that led to a fight, in which Orlando thrashed hisrival; but this did not prevent a friendship springing up betweenthe two, which lasted through life. 

Orlando was so poor that he was sometimes half naked. As he was afavorite of the boys, one day four of them brought some cloth tomake him clothes. Two brought white and two red; and from thiscircumstance Orlando took his coat-of-arms, or quarterings. 

When Charlemagne was on his way to Rome to receive the imperialcrown he dined in public in Sutri. Orlando and his mother that dayhad nothing to eat, and Orlando coming suddenly upon the royalparty, and seeing abundance of provisions, seized from theattendants as much as he could carry off, and made good hisretreat in spite of their resistance. The Emperor, being told ofthis incident, was reminded of an intimation he had received in adream, and ordered the boy to be followed. This was done by threeof the knights, whom Orlando would have encountered with a cudgelon their entering the grotto, had not his mother restrained him. When they heard from her who she was they threw themselves at herfeet, and promised to obtain her pardon from the Emperor. This waseasily effected. Orlando was received into favor by the Emperor, returned with him to France, and so distinguished himself that hebecame the most powerful support of the throne and ofChristianity. [Footnote: It is plain that Shakspeare borrowed fromthis source the similar incident in his "As you Like it. " Thenames of characters in the play, Orlando, Oliver, Rowland indicatethe same thing. ]

ROLAND AND FERRAGUS

Orlando, or Roland, particularly distinguished himself by hiscombat with Ferragus. Ferragus was a giant, and moreover his skinwas of such impenetrable stuff that no sword could make anyimpression upon it. The giant's mode of fighting was to seize hisadversary in his arms and carry him off, in spite of all thestruggles he could make. Roland's utmost skill only availed tokeep him out of the giant's clutches, but all his efforts to woundhim with the sword were useless. After long fighting Ferragus wasso weary that he proposed a truce, and when it was agreed upon helay down and immediately fell asleep. He slept in perfectsecurity, for it was against all the laws of chivalry to takeadvantage of an adversary under such circumstances. But Ferraguslay so uncomfortably for the want of a pillow that Orlando tookpity upon him, and brought a smooth stone and placed it under hishead. When the giant woke up, after a refreshing nap, andperceived what Orlando had done, he seemed quite grateful, becamesociable, and talked freely in the usual boastful style of suchcharacters. Among other things he told Orlando that he need notattempt to kill him with a sword, for that every part of his bodywas invulnerable, except this; and as he spoke, he put his hand tothe vital part, just in the middle of his breast. Aided by thisinformation Orlando succeeded, when the fight was renewed, inpiercing the giant in the very spot he had pointed out, and givinghim a death-wound. Great was the rejoicing in the Christian camp, and many the praises showered upon the victorious paladin by theEmperor and all his host. 

On another occasion Orlando encountered a puissant Saracenwarrior, and took from him, as the prize of victory, the swordDurindana. This famous weapon had once belonged to the illustriousprince Hector of Troy. It was of the finest workmanship, and ofsuch strength and temper that no armor in the world could standagainst it. 

A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER

Guerin de Montglave held the lordship of Vienne, subject toCharlemagne. He had quarrelled with his sovereign, and Charleslaid siege to his city, having ravaged the neighboring country. Guerin was an aged warrior, but relied for his defence upon hisfour sons and two grandsons, who were among the bravest knights ofthe age. After the siege had continued two months Charlemagnereceived tidings that Marsilius, king of Spain, had invadedFrance, and, finding himself unopposed, was advancing rapidly inthe Southern provinces. At this intelligence Charles listened tothe counsel of his peers, and consented to put the quarrel withGuerin to the decision of Heaven, by single combat between twoknights, one of each party, selected by lot. The proposal wasacceptable to Guerin and his sons. The names of the four, togetherwith Guerin's own, who would not be excused, and of the twograndsons, who claimed their lot, being put into a helmet, Oliver's was drawn forth, and to him, the youngest of thegrandsons, was assigned the honor and the peril of the combat. Heaccepted the award with delight, exulting in being thought worthyto maintain the cause of his family. On Charlemagne's side Rolandwas the designated champion, and neither he nor Oliver knew whohis antagonist was to be. 

They met on an island in the Rhone, and the warriors of both campswere ranged on either shore, spectators of the battle. At thefirst encounter both lances were shivered, but both riders kepttheir seats, immovable. They dismounted, and drew their swords. Then ensued a combat which seemed so equal, that the spectatorscould not form an opinion as to the probable issue. Two hours andmore the knights continued to strike and parry, to thrust andward, neither showing any sign of weariness, nor ever being takenat unawares. At length Orlando struck furiously upon Oliver'sshield, burying Durindana in its edge so deeply that he could notdraw it back, and Oliver, almost at the same moment, thrust sovigorously upon Orlando's breastplate that his sword snapped offat the handle. Thus were the two warriors left weaponless. Scarcely pausing a moment, they rushed upon one another, eachstriving to throw his adversary to the ground, and failing inthat, each snatched at the other's helmet to tear it away. Bothsucceeded, and at the same moment they stood bare-headed face toface, and Roland recognized Oliver, and Oliver Roland. For amoment they stood still; and the next, with open arms, rushed intoone another's embrace. "I am conquered, " said Orlando. "I yieldme. " said Oliver. 

The people on the shore knew not what to make of all this. Presently they saw the two late antagonists standing hand in hand, and it was evident the battle was at an end. The knights crowdedround them, and with one voice hailed them as equals in glory. Ifthere were any who felt disposed to murmur that the battle wasleft undecided they were silenced by the voice of Ogier the Dane, who proclaimed aloud that all had been done that honor required, and declared that he would maintain that award against allgainsayers. 

The quarrel with Guerin and his sons being left undecided, a trucewas made for four days, and in that time, by the efforts of DukeNamo on the one side, and of Oliver on the other, a reconciliationwas effected. Charlemagne, accompanied by Guerin and his valiantfamily, marched to meet Marsilius, who hastened to retreat acrossthe frontier. 

RINALDO

Rinaldo was one of the four sons of Aymon, who married Aya, thesister of Charlemagne. Thus Rinaldo was nephew to Charlemagne andcousin of Orlando. 

When Rinaldo had grown old enough to assume arms Orlando had wonfor himself an illustrious name by his exploits against theSaracens, whom Charlemagne and his brave knights had driven out ofFrance. Orlando's fame excited a noble emulation in Rinaldo. Eagerto go in pursuit of glory, he wandered in the country near Paris, and one day saw at the foot of a tree a superb horse, fullyequipped and loaded with a complete suit of armor. Rinaldo clothedhimself in the armor and mounted the horse, but took not thesword. On the day when, with his brothers, he had received thehonor of knighthood from the Emperor he had sworn never to bind asword to his side till he had wrested one from some famous knight. 

Rinaldo took his way to the forest of Arden, celebrated for somany adventures. Hardly had he entered it when he met an old man, bending under the weight of years, and learned from him that theforest was infested with a wild horse, untamable, that broke andoverturned everything that opposed his career. To attack him, hesaid, or even to meet him, was certain death. Rinaldo, far frombeing alarmed, showed the most eager desire to combat the animal. This was the horse Bayard, afterward so famous. He had formerlybelonged to Amadis of Gaul. After the death of that hero he hadbeen held under enchantment by the power of a magician, whopredicted that, when the time came to break the spell, he shouldbe subdued by a knight of the lineage of Amadis, and not lessbrave than he. 

To win this wonderful horse it was necessary to conquer him byforce or skill; for from the moment when he should be thrown downhe would become docile and manageable. His habitual resort was acave on the borders of the forest; but woe be to any one whoshould approach him, unless gifted with strength and courage morethan mortal. Having told this, the old man departed. He was not, in fact, an old man, but Malagigi, the enchanter, cousin ofRinaldo, who, to favor the enterprises of the young knight, hadprocured for him the horse and armor which he so opportunelyfound, and now put him in the way to acquire a horse unequalled inthe world. 

Rinaldo plunged into the forest, and spent many days in seekingBayard, but found no traces of him. One day he encountered aSaracen knight, with whom he made acquaintance, as often happenedto knights, by first meeting him in combat. This knight, whosename was Isolier, was also in quest of Bayard. Rinaldo succeededin the encounter, and so severe was the shock that Isolier was along time insensible. When he revived, and was about to resume thecontest, a peasant who passed by (it was Malagigi) interruptedthem with the news that the terrible horse was near at hand, advising them to unite their powers to subdue him, for it wouldrequire all their ability. 

Rinaldo and Isolier, now become friends, proceeded together to theattack of the horse. They found Bayard, and stood a long time, concealed by the wood, admiring his strength and beauty. 

A bright bay in color (whence he was called Bayard), with a silverstar in his forehead, and his hind feet white, his body slender, his head delicate, his ample chest filled out with swellingmuscles, his shoulders broad and full, his legs straight andsinewy, his thick mane falling over his arching neck, --he camerushing through the forest, regardless of rocks, bushes, or trees, rending everything that opposed his way, and neighing defiance. 

He first descried Isolier, and rushed upon him. The knightreceived him with lance in rest, but the fierce animal broke thespear, and his course was not delayed by it for an instant. TheSpaniard adroitly stepped aside, and gave way to the rushingtempest. Bayard checked his career, and turned again upon theknight, who had already drawn his sword. He drew his sword, for hehad no hope of taming the horse; that, he was satisfied, wasimpossible. 

Bayard rushed upon him; fiercely rearing, now on this side, now onthat. The knight struck him with his sword, where the white staradorned his forehead, but struck in vain, and felt ashamed, thinking that he had struck feebly, for he did not know that theskin of that horse was so tough that the keenest sword could makeno impression upon it. 

Whistling fell the sword once more, and struck with greater force, and the fierce horse felt it, and drooped his head under the blow, but the next moment turned upon his foe with such a buffet thatthe Pagan fell stunned and lifeless to the earth. 

Rinaldo, who saw Isolier fall, and thought that his life was reft, darted towards the horse, and, with his fist gave him such a blowon the jaws that the blood tinged his mouth with vermilion. Quicker than an arrow leaves the bow the horse turned upon him, and tried to seize his arm with his teeth. 

The knight stepped back, and then, repeating his blow, struck himon the forehead. Bayard turned, and kicked with both his feet witha force that would have shattered a mountain. Rinaldo was on hisguard, and evaded his attacks, whether made with head or heels. Hekept at his side avoiding both; but, making a false step, he atlast received a terrible blow from the horse's foot, and at theshock almost fainted away. A second such blow would have killedhim, but the horse kicked at random, and a second blow did notreach Rinaldo, who in a moment recovered himself. Thus the contestcontinued until by chance Bayard's foot got caught between thebranches of an oak. Rinaldo seized it and putting forth all hisstrength and address, threw him on the ground. 

No sooner had Bayard touched the ground than all his ragesubsided. No longer an object of terror, he became gentle andquiet, yet with dignity in his mildness. 

The paladin patted his neck, stroked his breast, and smoothed hismane, while the animal neighed and showed delight to be caressedby his master. Rinaldo, seeing him now completely subdued, tookthe saddle and trappings from the other horse, and adorned Bayardwith the spoils. 

Rinaldo became one of the most illustrious knights ofCharlemagne's court, --indeed, the most illustrious, if we exceptOrlando. Yet he was not always so obedient to the Emperor'scommands as he should have been, and every fault he committed wassure to be aggravated by the malice of Gan, Duke of Maganza, thetreacherous enemy of Rinaldo and all his house. 

At one time Rinaldo had incurred the severe displeasure ofCharlemagne, and been banished from court. Seeing no chance ofbeing ever restored to favor, he went to Spain, and entered intothe service of the Saracen king, Ivo. His brothers, Alardo, Ricardo, and Ricciardetto, accompanied him, and all four servedthe king so faithfully that they rose to high favor with him. Theking gave them land in the mountains on the frontiers of Franceand Spain, and subjected all the country round to Rinaldo'sauthority. There was plenty of marble in the mountains, the kingfurnished workmen, and they built a castle for Rinaldo, surroundedwith high walls, so as to be almost impregnable. Built of whitestone, and placed on the brow of a marble promontory, the castleshone like a star, and Rinaldo gave it the name of Montalban. Herehe assembled his friends, many of whom were banished men likehimself, and the country people furnished them with provisions inreturn for the protection the castle afforded. Yet some ofRinaldo's men were lawless, and sometimes the supplies were notfurnished in sufficient abundance, so that Rinaldo and hisgarrison got a bad name for taking by force what they could notobtain by gift; and we sometimes find Montalban spoken of as anest of freebooters, and its defenders called a beggarly garrison. 

Charlemagne's displeasure did not last long, and, at the time ourhistory commences, Rinaldo and his brothers were completelyrestored to the favor of the Emperor, and none of his cavaliersserved him with greater zeal and fidelity than they, throughoutall his wars with the Saracens and Pagans. 

THE TOURNAMENT

It was the month of May, and the feast of Pentecost. Charlemagnehad ordered magnificent festivities, and summoned to them, besideshis paladins and vassals of the crown, all strangers, Christian orSaracen, then sojourning at Paris. Among the guests were KingGrandonio, from Spain; and Ferrau, the Saracen, with eyes like aneagle; Orlando and Rinaldo, the Emperor's nephews; Duke Namo;Astolpho, of England, the handsomest man living; Malagigi, theEnchanter; and Gano, of Maganza, that wily traitor, who had theart to make the Emperor think he loved him, while he plottedagainst him. 

High sat Charlemagne at the head of his vassals and his paladins, rejoicing in the thought of their number and their might, whileall were sitting and hearing music, and feasting, when suddenlythere came into the hall four enormous giants, having between thema lady of incomparable beauty, attended by a single knight. Therewere many ladies present who had seemed beautiful till she madeher appearance, but after that they all seemed nothing. EveryChristian knight turned his eyes to her, and every Pagan crowdedround her, while she, with a sweetness that might have touched aheart of stone, thus addressed the Emperor:

"High-minded lord, the renown of your worthiness, and of the valorof these your knights, which echoes from sea to sea, encourages meto hope that two pilgrims, who have come from the ends of theworld to behold you, will not have encountered their fatigue invain. And, before I show the motive which has brought us hither, learn that this knight is my brother Uberto, and that I am hissister Angelica. Fame has told us of the jousting this dayappointed, and so the prince my brother has come to prove hisvalor, and to say that, if any of the knights here assembledchoose to meet him in the joust, he will encounter them, one byone, at the stair of Merlin, by the Fountain of the Pine. And hisconditions are these: No knight who chances to be thrown shall beallowed to renew the combat, but shall remain prisoner to mybrother; but if my brother be overthrown he shall depart out ofthe country, leaving me as the prize of the conqueror. "

Now it must be stated that this Angelica and her brother, whocalled himself Uberto, but whose real name was Argalia, were thechildren of Galafron, king of Cathay, who had sent them to be thedestruction of the Christian host; for Argalia was armed with anenchanted lance, which unfailingly overthrew everything ittouched, and he was mounted on a horse, a creature of magic, whoseswiftness outstripped the wind. Angelica possessed also a ringwhich was a defence against all enchantments, and when put intothe mouth rendered the bearer invisible. Thus Argalia was expectedto subdue and take prisoners whatever knights should dare toencounter him; and the charms of Angelica were relied on to enticethe paladins to make the fatal venture, while her ring wouldafford her easy means of escape. 

When Angelica ceased sneaking she knelt before the king andawaited his answer, and everybody gazed on her with admiration. Orlando especially felt irresistibly drawn towards her, so that hetrembled and changed countenance. Every knight in the hall wasinfected with the same feeling, not excepting old white-headedDuke Namo and Charlemagne himself. 

All stood for a while in silence, lost in the delight of lookingat her. The fiery youth Ferrau could hardly restrain himself fromseizing her from the giants and carrying her away; Rinaldo turnedas red as fire, while Malagigi, who had discovered by his art thatthe stranger was not speaking truth, muttered softly, as he lookedat her, "Exquisite false creature! I will play thee such a trickfor this, as will leave thee no cause to boast of thy visit. "

Charlemagne, to detain her as long as possible before him, delayedhis assent till he had asked her a number of questions, all whichshe answered discreetly, and then the challenge was accepted. 

As soon as she was gone Malagigi consulted his book, and found outthe whole plot of the vile, infidel king, Galafron, as we haveexplained it, so he determined to seek the damsel and frustrateher designs. He hastened to the appointed spot, and there foundthe prince and his sister in a beautiful pavilion, where they layasleep, while the four giants kept watch. Malagigi took his bookand cast a spell out of it, and immediately the four giants fellinto a deep sleep. Drawing his sword (for he was a belted knight), he softly approached the young lady, intending to despatch her atonce; but, seeing her look so lovely, he paused for a moment, thinking there was no need of hurry, as he believed his spell wasupon her, and she could not wake. But the ring which she woresecured her from the effect of the spell, and some slight noise, or whatever else it was, caused her at that moment to awake. Sheuttered a great cry, and flew to her brother, and waked him. Bythe help of her knowledge of enchantment, they took and bound fastthe magician, and, seizing his book, turned his arts againsthimself. Then they summoned a crowd of demons, and bade them seizetheir prisoner and bear him to King Galafron, at his great city ofAlbracca, which they did, and, on his arrival, he was locked up ina rock under the sea. 

While these things were going on all was uproar at Paris, sinceOrlando insisted upon being the first to try the adventure at thestair of Merlin. This was resented by the other pretenders toAngelica, and all contested his right to the precedence. Thetumult was stilled by the usual expedient of drawing lots, and thefirst prize was drawn by Astolpho. Ferrau, the Saracen, had thesecond, and Grandonio the third. Next came Berlinghieri, and Otho;then Charles himself, and, as his ill-fortune would have it, afterthirty more, the indignant Orlando. 

Astolpho, who drew the first lot, was handsome, brave, and rich. But, whether from heedlessness or want of skill, he was an unluckyjouster, and very apt to be thrown, an accident which he bore withperfect good-humor, always ready to mount again and try to mendhis fortune, generally with no better success. 

Astolpho went forth upon his adventure with great gayety of dressand manner, encountered Argalia, and was immediately tilted out ofthe saddle. He railed at fortune, to whom he laid all the fault;but his painful feelings were somewhat relieved by the kindness ofAngelica, who, touched by his youth and good looks, granted himthe liberty of the pavilion, and caused him to be treated with allkindness and respect. 

The violent Ferrau had the next chance in the encounter, and wasthrown no less speedily than Astolpho; but he did not so easilyput up with his mischance. Crying out, "What are the emperor'sengagements to me?" he rushed with his sword against Argalia, who, being forced to defend himself, dismounted and drew his sword, butgot so much the worse of the fight that he made a signal ofsurrender, and, after some words, listened to a proposal ofmarriage from Ferrau to his sister. The beauty, however, feelingno inclination to match with such a rough and savage-lookingperson, was so dismayed at the offer, that, hastily bidding herbrother to meet her in the forest of Arden, she vanished from thesight of both by means of the enchanted ring. Argalia, seeingthis, took to his horse of swiftness, and dashed away in the samedirection. Ferrau pursued him, and Astolpho, thus left to himself, took possession of the enchanted lance in place of his own, whichwas broken, not knowing the treasure he possessed in it, andreturned to the tournament. Charlemagne, finding the lady and herbrother gone, ordered the jousting to proceed as at firstintended, in which Astolpho, by aid of the enchanted lance, unhorsed all comers against him, equally to their astonishment andhis own. 

The paladin Rinaldo, on learning the issue of the combat of Ferrauand the stranger, galloped after the fair fugitive in an agony oflove and impatience. Orlando, perceiving his disappearance, pushedforth in like manner; and, at length, all three are in the forestof Arden, hunting about for her who is invisible. 

Now in this forest there were two fountains, the one constructedby the sage Merlin, who designed it for Tristram and the fairIsoude; [Footnote: See their story in "King Arthur and HisKnights. "] for such was the virtue of this fountain, that adraught of its waters produced on oblivion of the love which thedrinker might feel, and even produced aversion for the objectformerly beloved. The other fountain was endowed with exactlyopposite qualities, and a draught of it inspired love for thefirst living object that was seen after tasting it. Rinaldohappened to come to the first mentioned fountain, and, beingflushed with heat, dismounted, and quenched in one draught bothhis thirst and his passion. So far from loving Angelica as beforehe hated her from the bottom of his heart, became disgusted withthe search he was upon, and, feeling fatigued with his ride, finding a sheltered and flowery nook, laid himself down and fellasleep. 

Shortly after came Angelica, but, approaching in a differentdirection, she espied the other fountain, and there quenched herthirst. Then resuming her way, she came upon the sleeping Rinaldo. Love instantly seized her, and she stood rooted to the spot. 

The meadow round was all full of lilies of the valley and wildroses. Angelica, not knowing what to do, at length plucked ahandful of these, and dropped them, one by one, on the face of thesleeper. He woke up, and, seeing who it was, received hersalutations with averted countenance, remounted his horse, andgalloped away. In vain the beautiful creature followed and calledafter him, in vain asked him what she had done to be so despised. Rinaldo disappeared, leaving her in despair, and she returned intears to the spot where she had found him sleeping. There, in herturn, she herself lay down, pressing the spot of earth on which hehad lain, and, out of fatigue and sorrow, fell asleep. 

As Angelica thus lay, fortune conducted Orlando to the same place. The attitude in which she was sleeping was so lovely that it isnot to be conceived, much less expressed. Orlando stood gazinglike a man who had been transported to another sphere. "Am I onearth, " he exclaimed, "or am I in Paradise? Surely it is I thatsleep, and this is my dream. "

But his dream was proved to be none in a manner which he littledesired. Ferrau, who had slain Argalia, came up, raging withjealousy, and a combat ensued which awoke the sleeper. 

Terrified at what she beheld, she rushed to her palfrey, and, while the fighters were occupied with one another, fled awaythrough the forest. The champions continued their fight till theywere interrupted by a messenger, who brought word to Ferrau thatking Marsilius, his sovereign, was in pressing need of hisassistance, and conjured him to return to Spain. Ferrau, uponthis, proposed to suspend the combat, to which Orlando, eager topursue Angelica, agreed. Ferrau, on the other hand, departed withthe messenger to Spain. 

Orlando's quest for the fair fugitive was all in vain. Aided bythe powers of magic, she made a speedy return to her own country. 

But the thought of Rinaldo could not be banished from her mind, and she determined to set Malagigi at liberty, and to employ himto win Rinaldo, if possible, to make her a return of affection. She accordingly freed him from his dungeon, unlocking his fetterswith her own hands, and restored him his book, promising him amplehonors and rewards on condition of his bringing Rinaldo to herfeet. 

Malagigi accordingly, with the aid of his book, called up a demon, mounted him, and departed. Arrived at his destination, heinveigled Rinaldo into an enchanted bark, which conveyed him, without any visible pilot, to an island where stood an edificecalled Joyous Castle. The whole island was a garden. On thewestern side, close to the sea, was the palace, built of marble, so clear and polished that it reflected the landscape about it. Rinaldo leapt ashore, and soon met a lady, who invited him toenter. The house was as beautiful within as without, full of roomsadorned with azure and gold, and with noble paintings. The ladyled the knight into an apartment painted with stories, and openingto the garden, through pillars of crystal, with golden capitals. Here he found a bevy of ladies, three of whom were singing inconcert, while another played on an instrument of exquisiteaccord, and the rest danced round about them. When the ladiesbeheld him coming they turned the dance into a circuit round him, and then one of them, in the sweetest manner, said, "Sir knight, the tables are set, and the hour for the banquet is come;" and, with these words, still dancing, they drew him across the lawn infront of the apartment, to a table that was spread with cloth ofgold and fine linen, under a bower of damask roses by the side ofa fountain. 

Four ladies were already seated there, who rose, and placedRinaldo at their head, in a chair set with pearls. And trulyindeed was he astonished. A repast ensued, consisting of viandsthe most delicate, and wines as fragrant as they were fine, drunkout of jewelled cups; and, when it drew towards its conclusion, harps and lutes were heard in the distance, and one of the ladiessaid in the knight's ear: "This house and all that you see in itare yours; for you alone was it built, and the builder is a queen. Happy indeed must you think yourself, for she loves you, and sheis the greatest beauty in the world! Her name is Angelica. "

The moment Rinaldo heard the name he so detested he started up, with a changed countenance, and, in spite of all that the ladycould say, broke off across the garden, and never ceased hasteningtill he reached the place where he landed. The bark was still onthe shore. He sprang into it, and pushed off, though he saw nobodyin it but himself. It was in vain for him to try to control itsmovements, for it dashed on as if in fury, till it reached adistant shore covered with a gloomy forest. Here Rinaldo, surrounded by enchantments of a very different sort from thosewhich he had lately resisted, was entrapped into a pit. 

The pit belonged to a castle called Altaripa, which was hung withhuman heads, and painted red with blood. As the paladin wasviewing the scene with amazement a hideous old woman made herappearance at the edge of the pit, and told him that he wasdestined to be thrown to a monster, who was only kept fromdevastating the whole country by being supplied with living humanflesh. Rinaldo said, "Be it so; let me but remain armed as I am, and I fear nothing. " The old woman laughed in derision. Rinaldoremained in the pit all night, and the next morning was taken tothe place where the monster had his den. It was a court surroundedby a high wall. Rinaldo was shut in with the beast, and a terriblecombat ensued. Rinaldo was unable to make any impression on thescales of the monster, while he, on the contrary, with hisdreadful claws, tore away plate and mail from the paladin. Rinaldobegan to think his last hour was come, and cast his eyes aroundand above to see if there was any means of escape. He perceived abeam projecting from the wall at the height of some ten feet, and, taking a leap almost miraculous, he succeeded in reaching it, andin flinging himself up across it. Here he sat for hours, thehideous brute continually trying to reach him. All at once heheard the sound of something coming through the air like a bird, and suddenly Angelica herself alighted on the end of the beam. Sheheld something in her hand towards him, and spoke to him in aloving voice. But the moment Rinaldo saw her he commanded her togo away, refused all her offers of assistance, and at lengthdeclared that, if she did not leave him, he would cast himselfdown to the monster, and meet his fate. 

Angelica, saying she would lose her life rather than displeasehim, departed; but first she threw to the monster a cake of waxshe had prepared, and spread around him a rope knotted withnooses. The beast took the bait, and, finding his teeth gluedtogether by the wax, vented his fury in bounds and leaps, and, soon getting entangled in the nooses, drew them tight by hisstruggles, so that he could scarcely move a limb. 

Rinaldo, watching his chance, leapt down upon his back, seized himround the neck, and throttled him, not relaxing his gripe till thebeast fell dead. 

Another difficulty remained to be overcome. The walls were ofimmense height, and the only opening in them was a grated windowof such strength that he could not break the bars. In his distressRinaldo found a file, which Angelica had left on the ground, and, with the help of this, effected his deliverance. 

What further adventures he met with will be told in anotherchapter. 

THE SIEGE OF ALBRACCA

At the very time when Charlemagne was holding his plenary courtand his great tournament his kingdom was invaded by a mightymonarch, who was moreover so valiant and strong in battle that noone could stand against him. He was named Gradasso, and hiskingdom was called Sericane. Now, as it often happens to thegreatest and the richest to long for what they cannot have, andthus to lose what they already possess, this king could not restcontent without Durindana, the sword of Orlando, and Bayard, thehorse of Rinaldo. To obtain these he determined to war uponFrance, and for this purpose put in array a mighty army. 

He took his way through Spain, and, after defeating Marsilius, theking of that country, in several battles, was rapidly advancing onFrance. Charlemagne, though Marsilius was a Saracen, and had beenhis enemy, yet felt it needful to succor him in this extremityfrom a consideration of common danger, and, with the consent ofhis peers, despatched Rinaldo with a strong body of soldiersagainst Gradasso. 

There was much fighting, with doubtful results, and Gradasso wassteadily advancing into France. But, impatient to achieve hisobjects, he challenged Rinaldo to single combat, to be fought onfoot, and upon these conditions: If Rinaldo conquered, Gradassoagreed to give up all his prisoners and return to his own country;but if Gradasso won the day, he was to have Bayard. 

The challenge was accepted, and would have been fought had it notbeen for the arts of Malagigi, who just then returned fromAngelica's kingdom with set purpose to win Rinaldo to look withfavor upon the fair princess who was dying for love of him. Malagigi drew Rinaldo away from the army by putting on thesemblance of Gradasso, and, after a short contest, pretending tofly before him, by which means Rinaldo was induced to follow himinto a boat, in which he was borne away, and entangled in variousadventures, as we have already related. 

The army, left under the command of Ricciardetto, Rinaldo'sbrother, was soon joined by Charlemagne and all his peerage, butexperienced a disastrous rout, and the Emperor and many of hispaladins were taken prisoners. Gradasso, however, did not abusehis victory; he took Charles by the hand, seated him by his side, and told him he warred only for honor. He renounced all conquests, on condition that the Emperor should deliver to him Bayard andDurindana, both of them the property of his vassals, the former ofwhich, as he maintained, was already forfeited to him by Rinaldo'sfailure to meet him as agreed. To these terms Charlemagne readilyacceded. 

Bayard, after the departure of his master, had been taken incharge by Ricciardetto, and sent back to Paris, where Astolpho wasin command, in the absence of Charlemagne. Astolpho received withgreat indignation the message despatched for Bayard, and repliedby a herald that "he would not surrender the horse of his kinsmanRinaldo without a contest. If Gradasso wanted the steed he mightcome and take him, and that he, Astolpho, was ready to meet him inthe field. "

Gradasso was only amused at this answer, for Astolpho's fame as asuccessful warrior was not high, and Gradasso willingly renewedwith him the bargain which he had made with Rinaldo. On theseconditions the battle was fought. The enchanted lance, in thehands of Astolpho, performed a new wonder; and Gradasso, theterrible Gradasso, was unhorsed. 

He kept his word, set free his prisoners, and put his army on themarch to return to his own country, renewing his oath, however, not to rest till he had taken from Rinaldo his horse, and fromOrlando his sword, or lost his life in the attempt. 

Charlemagne, full of gratitude to Astolpho, would have kept himnear his person and loaded him with honors, but Astolpho preferredto seek Rinaldo, with the view of restoring to him his horse, anddeparted from Paris with that design. 

Our story now returns to Orlando, whom we left fascinated withthe sight of the sleeping beauty, who, however, escaped him whileengaged in the combat with Ferrau. Having long sought her in vainthrough the recesses of the wood, he resolved to follow her to herfather's court. Leaving, therefore, the camp of Charlemagne, hetravelled long in the direction of the East, making inquiryeverywhere, if, perchance, he might get tidings of the fugitive. After many adventures, he arrived one day at a place where manyroads crossed, and meeting there a courier, he asked him for news. The courier replied that he had been despatched by Angelica tosolicit the aid of Sacripant, king of Circassia, in favor of herfather Galafron, who was besieged in his city, Albracca, byAgrican, king of Tartary. This Agrican had been an unsuccessfulsuitor to the damsel, whom he now pursued with arms. Orlando thuslearned that he was within a day's journey of Albracca; and, feeling now secure of Angelica, he proceeded with all speed to hercity. 

Thus journeying he arrived at a bridge, under which flowed afoaming river. Here a damsel met him with a goblet, and informedhim that it was the usage of this bridge to present the travellerwith a cup. Orlando accepted the offered cup and drank itscontents. He had no sooner done so than his brain reeled, and hebecame unconscious of the object of his journey, and of everythingelse. Under the influence of this fascination he followed thedamsel into a magnificent and marvellous palace. Here he foundhimself in company with many knights, unknown to him and to eachother, though if it had not been for the Cup of Oblivion of whichthey all had partaken they would have found themselves brothers inarms. 

Astolpho, proceeding on his way to seek Rinaldo, splendidlydressed and equipped, as was his wont, arrived in Circassia, andfound there a great army encamped under the command of Sacripant, the king of that country, who was leading it to the defence ofGalafron, the father of Angelica. Sacripant, much struck by theappearance of Astolpho and his horse, accosted him courteously, and tried to enlist him in his service; but Astolpho, proud of hislate victories, scornfully declined his offers, and pursued hisway. King Sacripant was too much attracted by his appearance topart with him so easily, and having laid aside his kinglyornaments, set out in pursuit of him. 

Astolpho next day encountered on his way a stranger knight, namedSir Florismart, Lord of the Sylvan Tower, one of the bravest andbest of knights, having as his guide a damsel, young, fair, andvirtuous, to whom he was tenderly attached, whose name wasFlordelis. Astolpho, as he approached, defied the knight, biddinghim yield the lady, or prepare to maintain his right by arms. Florismart accepted the contest, and the knights encountered. Florismart was unhorsed and his steed fell dead, while Bayardsustained no injury by the shock. 

Florismart was so overwhelmed with despair at his own disgrace andthe sight of the damsel's distress, that he drew his sword, andwas about to plunge it into his own bosom. But Astolpho held hishand, told him that he contended only for glory, and was contentedto leave him the lady. 

While Florismart and Flordelis were vowing eternal gratitude KingSacripant arrived, and coveting the damsel of the one champion asmuch as the horse and arms of the other, defied them to the joust. Astolpho met the challenger, whom he instantly overthrew, andpresented his courser to Florismart, leaving the king to return tohis army on foot. 

The friends pursued their route, and ere long Flordelisdiscovered, by signs which were known to her, that they wereapproaching the waters of Oblivion, and advised them to turn back, or to change their course. This the knights would not hear of, and, continuing their march, they soon arrived at the bridge whereOrlando had been taken prisoner. 

The damsel of the bridge appeared as before with the enchantedcup, but Astolpho, forewarned, rejected it with scorn. She dashedit to the ground, and a fire blazed up which rendered the bridgeunapproachable. At the same moment the two knights were assailedby sundry warriors, known and unknown, who, having no recollectionof anything, joined blindly in defence of their prison-house. Among these was Orlando, at sight of whom Astolpho, with all hisconfidence not daring to encounter him, turned and fled, owing hisescape to the strength and fleetness of Bayard. 

Florismart, meanwhile, overlaid by fearful odds, was compelled toyield to necessity, and comply with the usage of the fairy. Hedrank of the cup and remained prisoner with the rest. Flordelis, deprived of her two friends, retired from the scene, and devotedherself to untiring efforts to effect her lover's deliverance. Astolpho pursued his way to Albracca, which Agrican was about tobesiege. He was kindly welcomed by Angelica, and enrolled amongher defenders. Impatient to distinguish himself, he one nightsallied forth alone, arrived in Agrican's camp, and unhorsed hiswarriors right and left by means of the enchanted lance. But hewas soon surrounded and overmatched, and made prisoner to Agrican. 

Relief was, however, at hand; for as the citizens and soldierswere one day leaning over their walls they descried a cloud ofdust, from which horsemen were seen to prick forth, as it rolledon towards the camp of the besiegers. This turned out to be thearmy of Sacripant, which immediately attacked that of Agrican, with the view of cutting a passage through his camp to thebesieged city. But Agrican, mounted upon Bayard, taken fromAstolpho, but not armed with the lance of gold, the virtues ofwhich were unknown to him, performed wonders, and rallied hisscattered troops, which had given way to the sudden and unexpectedassault. Sacripant, on the other hand, encouraged his men by themost desperate acts of valor, having as an additional incentive tohis courage the sight of Angelica, who showed herself upon thecity walls. 

There she witnessed a single combat between the two leaders, Agrican and Sacripant. In this, at length, her defender appearedto be overmatched, when the Circassians broke the ring, andseparated the combatants, who were borne asunder in the rush. Sacripant, severely wounded, profited by the confusion, andescaped into Albracca, where he was kindly received and carefullytended by Angelica. 

The battle continuing, the Circassians were at last put to flight, and, being intercepted between the enemy's lines and the town, sought for refuge under the walls. Angelica ordered the drawbridgeto be let down, and the gates thrown open to the fugitives. Withthese Agrican, not distinguished in the crowd, entered the place, driving both Circassians and Cathayans before him, and theportcullis being dropped, he was shut in. 

For a time the terror which he inspired put to flight allopposers, but when at last it came to be known that few or none ofhis followers had effected an entrance with him, the fugitivesrallied and surrounded him on all sides. While he was thusapparently reduced to the last extremities, he was saved by thevery circumstance which threatened him with destruction. Thesoldiers of Angelica, closing upon him from all sides, desertedtheir defences; and his own besieging army entered the city in apart where the wall was broken down. 

In this way was Agrican rescued, the city taken, and theinhabitants put to the sword. Angelica, however, with some of theknights who were her defenders, among whom was Sacripant, savedherself in the citadel, which was planted upon a rock. 

The fortress was impregnable, but it was scantily victualled, andill provided with other necessaries. Under these circumstancesAngelica announced to those blockaded with her in the citadel herintention to go in quest of assistance, and, having plighted herpromise of a speedy return, she set out, with the enchanted ringupon her finger. Mounted upon her palfrey, the damsel passedthrough the enemy's lines, and by sunrise was many miles clear oftheir encampment. 

It so happened that her road led her near the fatal bridge ofOblivion, and as she approached it she met a damsel weepingbitterly. It was Flordelis, whose lover, Florismart, as we haverelated, had met the fate of Orlando and many more, and fallen avictim to the enchantress of the cup. She related her adventuresto Angelica, and conjured her to lend what aid she might to rescueher lord and his companions. Angelica, accordingly, watching heropportunity and aided by her ring, slipped into the castle unseen, when the door was opened to admit a new victim. Here she speedilydisenchanted Orlando and the rest by a touch of her talisman. ButFlorismart was not there. He had been given up to Falerina, a morepowerful enchantress, and was still in durance. Angelica conjuredthe rescued captives to assist her in the recovery of her kingdom, and all departed together for Albracca. 

The arrival of Orlando, with his companions, nine in all, andamong the bravest knights of France, changed at once the fortunesof the war. Wherever the great paladin came, pennon and standardfell before him. Agrican in vain attempted to rally his troops. Orlando kept constantly in his front, forcing him to attend tonobody else. The Tartar king at length bethought him of astratagem. He turned his horse, and made a show of flying indespair. Orlando dashed after him as he desired, and Agrican fledtill he reached a green place in a wood, where there was afountain. 

The place was beautiful, and the Tartar dismounted to refreshhimself at the fountain, but without taking off his helmet, orlaying aside any of his armor. Orlando was quickly at his back, crying out, "So bold, and yet a fugitive! How could you fly from asingle arm and think to escape?"

The Tartar king had leaped on his saddle the moment he saw hisenemy, and when the paladin had done speaking, he said in a mildvoice, "Without doubt you are the best knight I ever encountered, and fain would I leave you untouched for your own sake, if youwould cease to hinder me from rallying my people. I pretended tofly, in order to bring you out of the field. If you insist uponfighting I must needs fight and slay you, but I call the sun inthe heavens to witness I would rather not. I should be very sorryfor your death. "

The Count Orlando felt pity for so much gallantry, and he said, "The nobler you show yourself the more it grieves me to think thatin dying without a knowledge of the true faith you will be lost inthe other world. Let me advise you to save body and soul at once. Receive baptism, and go your way in peace. "

Agrican replied: "I suspect you to be the paladin Orlando. If youare I would not lose this opportunity of fighting with you to beking of Paradise. Talk to me no more about your things of anotherworld, for you will preach in vain. Each of us for himself, andlet the sword be umpire. "

The Saracen drew his sword, boldly advancing upon Orlando, and acombat began, so obstinate and so long, each warrior being amiracle of prowess, that the story says it lasted from noon tillnight. Orlando then seeing the stars come out was the first topropose a respite. 

"What are we to do, " said he, "now that daylight has left us?"

Agrican answered readily enough, "Let us repose in this meadow, and renew the combat at dawn. "

The repose was taken accordingly. Each tied up his horse, andreclined himself on the grass, not far from the other, just as ifthey had been friends, Orlando by the fountain, Agrican beneath apine. It was a beautiful clear night, and, as they talked togetherbefore addressing themselves to sleep, the champion ofChristendom, looking up at the firmament, said, "That is a finepiece of workmanship, that starry spectacle; God made it all, thatmoon of silver, and those stars of gold, and the light of day, andthe sun, --all for the sake of human kind. "

"You wish, I see, to talk of matters of faith, " said the Tartar. "Now I may as well tell you at once that I have no sort of skillin such matters, nor learning of any kind. I never could learnanything when I was a boy. I hated it so that I broke the man'shead who was commissioned to teach me; and it produced such aneffect on others that nobody ever afterwards dared so much as showme a book. My boyhood was therefore passed, as it should be, inhorsemanship and hunting, and learning to fight. What is the goodof a gentleman's poring all day over a book? Prowess to theknight, and preaching to the clergyman, that is my motto. "

"I acknowledge, " returned Orlando, "that arms are the firstconsideration of a gentleman; but not at all that he does himselfdishonor by knowledge. On the contrary, knowledge is as great anembellishment of the rest of his attainments, as the flowers areto the meadow before us; and as to the knowledge of his Maker, theman that is without it is no better than a stock or a stone or abrute beast. Neither without study can he reach anything of a duesense of the depth and divineness of the contemplation. "

"Learned or not learned, " said Agrican, "you might show yourselfbetter bred than by endeavoring to make me talk on a subject onwhich you have me at a disadvantage. If you choose to sleep I wishyou good night; but if you prefer talking I recommend you to talkof fighting or of fair ladies. And, by the way, pray tell me, areyou not that Orlando who makes such a noise in the world? And whatis it, pray, that brings you into these parts? Were you ever inlove? I suppose you must have been; for to be a knight, and neverto have been in love, would be like being a man without a heart inhis breast. "

The count replied: "Orlando I am, and in love I am. Love has mademe abandon everything, and brought me into these distant regions, and, to tell you all in one word, my heart is in the hands of thedaughter of King Galafron. You have come against him with fire andsword, to get possession of his castles and his dominions; and Ihave come to help him, for no object in the world but to pleasehis daughter and win her beautiful hand. I care for nothing elsein existence. "

Now when the Tartar king, Agrican, heard his antagonist speak inthis manner, and knew him to be indeed Orlando, and to be in lovewith Angelica, his face changed color for grief and jealousy, though it could not be seen for the darkness. His heart beganbeating with such violence that he felt as if he should have died. "Well, " said he to Orlando, "we are to fight when it is daylight, and one or other is to be left here, dead on the ground. I have aproposal to make to you--nay, an entreaty. My love is soexcessive for the same lady that I beg you to leave her to me. Iwill owe you my thanks, and give up the siege and put an end tothe war. I cannot bear that any one should love her, and that Ishould live to see it. Why, therefore, should either of us perish?Give her up. Not a soul shall know it. "

"I never yet, " answered Orlando, "made a promise which I did notkeep, and nevertheless I own to you that, were I to make a promiselike that, and even swear to keep it, I should not. You might aswell ask me to tear away the limbs from my body, and the eyes outof my head. I could as well live without breath itself as ceaseloving Angelica. "

Agrican had hardly patience to let him finish speaking, ere heleapt furiously on horseback, though it was midnight. "Quit her, "said he, "or die!"

Orlando seeing the infidel getting up, and not being sure that hewould not add treachery to fierceness, had been hardly less quickin mounting for the combat. "Never, " exclaimed he; "I never couldhave quitted her if I would, and now I would not if I could. Youmust seek her by other means than these. "

Fiercely dashed their horses together, in the nighttime, on thegreen mead. Despiteful and terrible were the blows they gave andtook by the moonlight. Agrican fought in a rage, Orlando wascooler. And now the struggle had lasted more than five hours, andday began to dawn, when the Tartar king, furious to find so muchtrouble given him, dealt his enemy a blow sharp and violent beyondconception. It cut the shield in two as if it had been made ofwood, and, though blood could not be drawn from Orlando, becausehe was fated, it shook and bruised him as if it had started everyjoint in his body. 

His body only, however, not a particle of his soul. So dreadfulwas the blow which the paladin gave in return, that not onlyshield, but every bit of mail on the body of Agrican was broken inpieces, and three of his ribs cut asunder. 

The Tartar, roaring like a lion, raised his sword with stillgreater vehemence than before, and dealt a blow on the paladin'shelmet, such as he had never yet received from mortal man. For amoment it took away his senses. His sight failed, his earstingled, his frightened horse turned about to fly; and he wasfalling from the saddle, when the very action of falling threw hishead upwards, and thus recalled his recollection. 

"What a shame is this!" thought he; "how shall I ever again dareto face Angelica! I have been fighting hour after hour with thisman, and he is but one, and I call myself Orlando! If the combatlast any longer I will bury myself in a monastery, and never lookon sword again. "

Orlando muttered with his lips closed and his teeth groundtogether; and you might have thought that fire instead of breathcame out of his nose and mouth. He raised his sword Durindana withboth his hands, and sent it down so tremendously on Agrican'sshoulder that it cut through breastplate down to the very haunch, nay, crushed the saddle-bow, though it was made of bone and iron, and felled man and horse to the earth. Agrican turned as white asashes, and felt death upon him. He called Orlando to come close tohim, with a gentle voice, and said, as well as he could: "Ibelieve on Him who died on the cross. Baptize me, I pray thee, with the fountain, before my senses are gone. I have lived an evillife, but need not be rebellious to God in death also. May He whocame to save all the rest of the world save me!" And he shedtears, that great king, though he had been so lofty and fierce. 

Orlando dismounted quickly, with his own face in tears. Hegathered the king tenderly in his arms, and took and laid him bythe fountain, on a marble rim that it had, and then he wept inconcert with him heartily, and asked his pardon, and so baptizedhim in the water of the fountain, and knelt and prayed to God forhim with joined hands. 

He then paused and looked at him; and when he perceived hiscountenance changed, and that his whole person was cold, he lefthim there on the marble rim of the fountain, all armed as he was, with the sword by his side, and the crown upon his head. 

ADVENTURES OF RINALDO AND ORLANDO

We left Rinaldo when, having overcome the monster, he quitted thecastle of Altaripa, and pursued his way on foot. He soon met witha weeping damsel, who, being questioned as to the cause of hersorrow, told him she was in search of one to do battle to rescueher lover, who had been made prisoner by a vile enchantress, together with Orlando and many more. The damsel was Flordelis, thelady-love of Florismart, and Rinaldo promised his assistance, trusting to accomplish the adventure either by valor or skill. Flordelis insisted upon Rinaldo's taking her horse, which heconsented to do, on condition of her mounting behind him. 

As they rode on through a wood, they heard strange noises, andRinaldo, reassuring the damsel, pressed forward towards thequarter from which they proceeded. He soon perceived a giantstanding under a vaulted cavern, with a huge club in his hand, andof an appearance to strike the boldest spirit with dread. By theside of the cavern was chained a griffin, which, together with thegiant, was stationed there to guard a wonderful horse, the samewhich was once Argalia's. This horse was a creature ofenchantment, matchless in vigor, speed, and form, which disdainedto share the diet of his fellow-steeds, --corn or grass, --and fedonly on air. His name was Rabican. 

This marvellous horse, after his master Argalia had been slain byFerrau, finding himself at liberty, returned to his native cavern, and was here stabled under the protection of the giant and thegriffin. As Rinaldo approached, the giant assailed him with hisclub. Rinaldo defended himself from the giant's blows, and gavehim one in return, which, if his skin had not been of thetoughest, would have finished the combat. But the giant, thoughwounded, escaped, and let loose the griffin. This monstrous birdtowered in air, and thence pounced down upon Rinaldo, who, watching his opportunity, dealt her a desperate wound. She had, however, strength for another flight, and kept repeating herattacks, which Rinaldo parried as he could, while the damsel stoodtrembling by, witnessing the contest. 

The battle continued, rendered more terrible by the approach ofnight, when Rinaldo determined upon a desperate expedient to bringit to a conclusion. He fell, as if fainting from his wounds, and, on the close approach of the griffin, dealt her a blow whichsheared away one of her wings. The beast, though sinking, gripedhim fast with her talons, digging through plate and mail; butRinaldo plied his sword in utter desperation, and at lastaccomplished her destruction. 

Rinaldo then entered the cavern, and found there the wonderfulhorse, all caparisoned. He was coal-black, except for a star ofwhite on his forehead, and one white foot behind. For speed he wasunrivalled, though in strength he yielded to Bayard. Rinaldomounted upon Rabican, and issued from the cavern. 

As he pursued his way he met a fugitive from Agrican's army, whogave such an account of the prowess of a champion who fought onthe side of Angelica, that Rinaldo was persuaded this must beOrlando, though at a loss to imagine how he could have been freedfrom captivity. He determined to repair to the scene of thecontest to satisfy his curiosity, and Flordelis, hoping to findFlorismart with Orlando, consented to accompany him. 

While these things were doing, all was rout and dismay in theTartarian army, from the death of Agrican. King Galafron, arrivingat this juncture with an army for the relief of his capital, Albracca, assaulted the enemy's camp, and carried all before him. Rinaldo had now reached the scene of action, and was looking on asan unconcerned spectator, when he was espied by Galafron. The kinginstantly recognized the horse Rabican, which he had given toArgalia when he sent him forth on his ill-omened mission to Paris. Possessed with the idea that the rider of the horse was themurderer of Argalia, Galafron rode at Rinaldo, and smote him withall his force. Rinaldo was not slow to avenge the blow, and itwould have gone hard with the king had not his followers instantlyclosed round him and separated the combatants. 

Rinaldo thus found himself, almost without his own choice, enlisted on the side of the enemies of Angelica, which gave him noconcern, so completely had his draught from the fountain of hatesteeled his mind against her. 

For several successive days the struggle continued, without anyimportant results, Rinaldo meeting the bravest knights ofAngelica's party, and defeating them one after the other. Atlength he encountered Orlando, and the two knights bitterlyreproached one another for the cause they had each adopted, andengaged in a furious combat. Orlando was mounted upon Bayard, Rinaldo's horse, which Agrican had by chance become possessed of, and Orlando had taken from him as the prize of victory. Bayardwould not fight against his master, and Orlando was getting theworse of the encounter, when suddenly Rinaldo, seeing Astolpho, who for love of him had arrayed himself on his side, hard beset bynumbers, left Orlando to rush to the defence of his friend. Nightprevented the combat from being renewed; but a challenge was givenand accepted for their next meeting. 

But Angelica, sighing in her heart for Rinaldo, was not willingthat he should be again exposed to so terrible a venture. Shebegged a boon of Orlando, promising she would be his if he woulddo her bidding. On receiving his promise, she enjoined him to setout without delay to destroy the garden of the enchantressFalerina, in which many valiant knights had been entrapped, andwere imprisoned. 

Orlando departed on his horse Brigliadoro, leaving Bayard indisgrace for his bad deportment the day before. Angelica, toconciliate Rinaldo, sent Bayard to him; but Rinaldo remainedunmoved by this as by all her former acts of kindness. 

When Rinaldo learned Orlando's departure, he yielded to theentreaties of the lady of Florismart, and prepared to fulfil hispromise, and rescue her lover from the power of the enchantress. Thus both Rinaldo and Orlando were bound upon the same adventure, but unknown to one another. 

The castle of Falerina was protected by a river, which was crossedby a bridge, kept by a ruffian, who challenged all comers to thecombat; and such was his strength that he had thus far prevailedin every encounter, as appeared by the arms of various knightswhich he had taken from them, and piled up as a trophy on theshore. Rinaldo attacked him, but with as bad success as the rest, for the bridge-ward struck him so violent a blow with an iron macethat he fell to the ground. But when the villain approached tostrip him of his armor, Rinaldo seized him, and the bridge-ward, being unable to free himself, leapt with Rinaldo into the lake, where they both disappeared. 

Orlando, meanwhile, in discharge of his promise to Angelica, pursued his way in quest of the same adventure. In passing througha wood he saw a cavalier armed at all points, and mounted, keepingguard over a lady who was bound to a tree, weeping bitterly. Orlando hastened to her relief, but was exhorted by the knight notto interfere, for she had deserved her fate by her wickedness. Inproof of which he made certain charges against her. The ladydenied them all, and Orlando believed her, defied the knight, overthrew him, and, releasing the lady, departed with her seatedon his horse's croup. 

While they rode another damsel approached on a white palfrey, whowarned Orlando of impending danger, and informed him that he wasnear the garden of the enchantress. Orlando was delighted with theintelligence, and entreated her to inform him how he was to gainadmittance. She replied that the garden could only be entered atsunrise and gave him such instructions as would enable him to gainadmittance. She gave him also a book in which was painted thegarden and all that it contained, together with the palace of thefalse enchantress, where she had secluded herself for the purposeof executing a magic work in which she was engaged. This was themanufacture of a sword capable of cutting even through enchantedsubstances The object of this labor, the damsel told him, was thedestruction of a knight of the west, by name Orlando, who she hadread in the book of Fate was coming to demolish her garden. Havingthus instructed him, the damsel departed. 

Orlando, finding he must delay his enterprise till the nextmorning, now lay down and was soon asleep. Seeing this, the basewoman whom he had rescued, and who was intent on making her escapeto rejoin her paramour, mounted Brigliadoro, and rode off, carrying away Durindana. 

When Orlando awoke, his indignation, as may be supposed, was greaton the discovery of the theft; but, like a good knight and true, he was not to be diverted from his enterprise. He tore off a hugebranch of an elm to supply the place of his sword; and, as the sunrose, took his way towards the gate of the garden, where a dragonwas on his watch. This he slew by repeated blows, and entered thegarden, the gate of which closed behind him, barring retreat. Looking round him, he saw a fair fountain, which overflowed into ariver, and in the centre of the fountain a figure, on whoseforehead was written:

 "The stream which waters violet and rose, From hence to the enchanted palace goes. "

Following the banks of this flowing stream, and rapt in thedelights of the charming garden, Orlando arrived at the palace, and entering it, found the mistress, clad in white, with a crownof gold upon her head, in the act of viewing herself in thesurface of the magic sword. Orlando surprised her before she couldescape, deprived her of the weapon, and holding her fast by herlong hair, which floated behind, threatened her with immediatedeath if she did not yield up her prisoners, and afford him themeans of egress. She, however, was firm of purpose, making noreply, and Orlando, unable to move her either by threats orentreaties, was under the necessity of binding her to a beech, andpursuing his quest as he best might. 

He then bethought him of his book, and, consulting it, found thatthere was an outlet to the south, but that to reach it a lake wasto be passed, inhabited by a siren, whose song was so entrancingas to be quite irresistible to whoever heard it; but his bookinstructed him how to protect himself against this danger. According to its directions, while pursuing his path, he gatheredabundance of flowers, which sprung all around, and filled hishelmet and his ears with them; then listened if he heard the birdssing. Finding that, though he saw the gaping beak, the swellingthroat, and ruffled plumes, he could not catch a note, he feltsatisfied with his defence, and advanced toward the lake. It wassmall but deep, and so clear and tranquil that the eye couldpenetrate to the bottom. 

He had no, sooner arrived upon the banks than the waters were seento gurgle, and the siren, rising midway out of the pool, sung sosweetly that birds and beasts came trooping to the water-side tolisten. Of this Orlando heard nothing, but, feigning to yield tothe charm, sank down upon the bank. The siren issued from thewater with the intent to accomplish his destruction. Orlandoseized her by the hair, and while she sang yet louder (song beingher only defence) cut off her head. Then, following the directionsof the book, he stained himself all over with her blood. 

Guarded by this talisman, he met successively all the monsters setfor defence of the enchantress and her garden, and at length foundhimself again at the spot where he had made captive theenchantress, who still continued fastened to the beech. But thescene was changed. The garden had disappeared, and Falerina, before so haughty, now begged for mercy, assuring him that manylives depended upon the preservation of hers. Orlando promised herlife upon her pledging herself for the deliverance of hercaptives. 

This, however, was no easy task. They were not in her possession, but in that of a much more powerful enchantress, Morgana, the Ladyof the Lake, the very idea of opposing whom made Falerina turnpale with fear. Representing to him the hazards of the enterprise, she led him towards the dwelling of Morgana. To approach it he hadto encounter the same uncourteous bridge-ward who had alreadydefeated and made captive so many knights, and last of all, Rinaldo. He was a churl of the most ferocious character, namedArridano. Morgana had provided him with impenetrable armor, andendowed him in such a manner that his strength always increased inproportion to that of the adversary with whom he was matched. Noone had ever yet escaped from the contest, since, such was hispower of endurance, he could breathe freely under water. Hence, having grappled with a knight, and sunk with him to the bottom ofthe lake, he returned, bearing his enemy's arms in triumph to thesurface. 

While Falerina was repeating her cautions and her counsels Orlandosaw Rinaldo's arms erected in form of a trophy, among other spoilsmade by the villain, and, forgetting their late quarrel, determined upon revenging his friend. Arriving at the pass, thechurl presuming to bar the way, a desperate contest ensued, duringwhich Falerina escaped. The churl finding himself overmatched at acontest of arms, resorted to his peculiar art, grappled hisantagonist, and plunged with him into the lake. When he reachedthe bottom Orlando found himself in another world, upon a drymeadow, with the lake overhead, through which shone the beams ofour sun, while the water stood on all sides like a crystal wall. Here the battle was renewed, and Orlando had in his magic sword anadvantage which none had hitherto possessed. It had been temperedby Falerina so that no spells could avail against it. Thus armed, and countervailing the strength of his adversary by his superiorskill and activity, it was not long before he laid him dead uponthe field. 

Orlando then made all haste to return to the upper air, and, passing through the water, which opened a way before him (such wasthe power of the magic sword), he soon regained the shore, andfound himself in a field as thickly covered with precious stonesas the sky is with stars. 

Orlando crossed the field, not tempted to delay his enterprise bygathering any of the brilliant gems spread all around him. He nextpassed into a flowery meadow planted with trees, covered withfruit and flowers, and full of all imaginable delights. 

In the middle of this meadow was a fountain, and fast by it layMorgana asleep; a lady of a lovely aspect, dressed in white andvermilion garments, her forehead well furnished with hair, whileshe had scarcely any behind. 

While Orlando stood in silence contemplating her beauty he heard avoice exclaim: "Seize the fairy by the forelock, if thou hopestfair success. " But his attention was arrested by another object, and he heeded not the warning. He saw on a sudden an array oftowers, pinnacles and columns, palaces with balconies and windows, extended alleys with trees, in short a scene of architecturalmagnificence surpassing all he had ever beheld. While he stoodgazing in silent astonishment the scene slowly melted away anddisappeared. [Footnote: This is a poetical description of aphenomenon which is said to be really exhibited in the strait ofMessina, between Sicily and Calabria. It is called Fata Morgana, or Mirage. ]

When he had recovered from his amazement he looked again towardthe fountain. The fairy had awaked and risen, and was dancinground its border with the lightness of a leaf, timing herfootsteps to this song:

 "Who in this world would wealth and treasure share, Honor, delight, and state, and what is best, Quick let him catch me by the lock of hair Which flutters from my forehead; and be blest. 

 "But let him not the proffered good forbear, Nor till he seize the fleeting blessing rest; For present loss is sought in vain to-morrow, And the deluded wretch is left in sorrow. "

The fairy, having sung thus, bounded off, and fled from theflowery meadow over a high and inaccessible mountain. Orlandopursued her through thorns and rocks, while the sky graduallybecame overcast, and at last he was assailed by tempest, lightning, and hail. 

While he thus pursued, a pale and meagre woman issued from a cave, armed with a whip, and, treading close upon his steps, scourgedhim with vigorous strokes. Her name was Repentance, and she toldhim it was her office to punish those who neglected to obey thevoice of Prudence, and seize the fairy Fortune when he might. 

Orlando, furious at this chastisement, turned upon his tormentor, but might as well have stricken the wind. Finding it useless toresist, he resumed his chase of the fairy, gained upon her, andmade frequent snatches at her white and vermilion garments, whichstill eluded his grasp. At last, on her turning her head for aninstant, he profited by the chance, and seized her by theforelock. In an instant the tempest ceased, the sky became serene, and Repentance retreated to her cave. 

Orlando now demanded of Morgana the keys of her prison, and thefairy, feigning a complacent aspect, delivered up a key of silver, bidding him to be cautious in the use of it, since to break thelock would be to involve himself and all in inevitabledestruction; a caution which gave the Count room for longmeditation, and led him to consider

 How few amid the suitors who importune The dame, know how to turn the keys of Fortune. 

Keeping the fairy still fast by the forelock, Orlando proceededtoward the prison, turned the key, without occasioning themischiefs apprehended, and delivered the prisoners. 

Among these were Florismart, Rinaldo, and many others of thebravest knights of France. Morgana had disappeared, and theknights, under the guidance of Orlando, retraced the path by whichhe had come. They soon reached the field of treasure. Rinaldo, finding himself amidst this mass of wealth, remembered his needygarrison of Montalban, and could not resist the temptation ofseizing part of the booty. In particular a golden chain, studdedwith diamonds, was too much for his self-denial, and he took itand was bearing it off, notwithstanding the remonstrances ofOrlando, when a violent wind caught him and whirled him back, ashe approached the gate. This happened a second and a third time, and Rinaldo at length yielded to necessity, rather than to theentreaties of his friends, and cast away his prize. 

They soon reached the bridge and passed over without hindrance tothe other side, where they found the trophy decorated with theirarms. Here each knight resumed his own, and all, except thepaladins and their friends, separated as their inclinations orduty prompted. Dudon, the Dane, one of the rescued knights, informed the cousins that he had been made prisoner by Morganawhile in the discharge of an embassy to them from Charlemagne, whocalled upon them to return to the defence of Christendom. Orlandowas too much fascinated by Angelica to obey this summons, and, followed by the faithful Florismart, who would not leave him, returned towards Albracca. Rinaldo, Dudon, Iroldo, Prasildo, andthe others took their way toward the west. 

THE INVASION OF FRANCE

Agramant, King of Africa, convoked the kings, his vassals, todeliberate in council. He reminded them of the injuries he hadsustained from France, that his father had fallen in battle withCharlemagne, and that his early years had hitherto not allowed himto wipe out the stain of former defeats. He now proposed to themto carry war into France. 

Sobrino, his wisest councillor, opposed the project, representingthe rashness of it; but Rodomont, the young and fiery king ofAlgiers, denounced Sobrino's counsel as base and cowardly, declaring himself impatient for the enterprise. The king of theGaramantes, venerable for his age and renowned for his propheticlore, interposed, and assured the King that such an attempt wouldbe sure to fail, unless he could first get on his side a youthmarked out by destiny as the fitting compeer of the most puissantknights of France, the young Rogero, descended in direct line fromHector of Troy. This prince was now a dweller upon the mountainCarena, where Atlantes, his foster-father, a powerful magician, kept him in retirement, having discovered by his art that hispupil would be lost to him if allowed to mingle with the world. Tobreak the spells of Atlantes, and draw Rogero from his retirement, one only means was to be found. It was a ring possessed byAngelica, Princess of Cathay, which was a talisman against allenchantments. If this ring could be procured all would go well;without it the enterprise was desperate. 

Rodomont treated this declaration of the old prophet with scorn, and it would probably have been held of little weight by thecouncil, had not the aged king, oppressed by the weight of years, expired in the very act of reaffirming his prediction. This madeso deep an impression on the council that it was unanimouslyresolved to postpone the war until an effort should be made to winRogero to the camp. 

King Agramant thereupon proclaimed that the sovereignty of akingdom should be the reward of whoever should succeed inobtaining the ring of Angelica. Brunello the dwarf, the subtlestthief in all Africa, undertook to procure it. 

In prosecution of this design, he made the best of his way toAngelica's kingdom, and arrived beneath the walls of Albraccawhile the besieging army was encamped before the fortress. Whilethe attention of the garrison was absorbed by the battle thatraged below he scaled the walls, approached the Princessunnoticed, slipped the ring from her finger, and escapedunobserved. He hastened to the seaside, and, finding a vesselready to sail, embarked, and arrived at Biserta, in Africa. Herehe found Agramant impatient for the talisman which was to foil theenchantments of Atlantes and to put Rogero into his hands. Thedwarf, kneeling before the king, presented him with the ring, andAgramant, delighted at the success of his mission, crowned him inrecompense King of Tingitana. 

All were now anxious to go in quest of Rogero. The cavalcadeaccordingly departed, and in due time arrived at the mountain ofCarena. 

At the bottom of this was a fruitful and well-wooded plain, watered by a large river, and from this plain was descried abeautiful garden on the mountain-top, which contained the mansionof Atlantes; but the ring, which discovered what was beforeinvisible, could not, though it revealed this paradise, enableAgramant or his followers to enter it. So steep and smooth was therock by nature, that even Brunello failed in every attempt toscale it. He did not, for this, despair of accomplishing theobject; but, having obtained Agramant's consent, caused theassembled courtiers and knights to celebrate a tournament upon theplain below. This was done with the view of seducing Rogero fromhis fastness, and the stratagem was attended with success. 

Rogero joined the tourney, and was presented by Agramant with asplendid horse, Frontino, and a magnificent sword. Having learnedfrom Agramant his intended invasion of France, he gladly consentedto join the expedition. 

Rodomont, meanwhile, was too impatient to wait for Agramant'sarrangements, and embarked with all the forces he could raise, made good his landing on the coast of France, and routed theChristians in several encounters. Previously to this, however, Gano, or Ganelon (as he is sometimes called), the traitor, enemyof Orlando and the other nephews of Charlemagne, had entered intoa traitorous correspondence with Marsilius, the Saracen king ofSpain, whom he invited into France. Marsilius, thus encouraged, led an army across the frontiers, and joined Rodomont. This wasthe situation of things when Rinaldo and the other knights who hadobeyed the summons of Dudon set forward on their return to France. 

When they arrived at Buda in Hungary they found the king of thatcountry about despatching his son, Ottachiero, with an army to thesuccor of Charlemagne. Delighted with the arrival of Rinaldo, heplaced his son and troops under his command. In due time the armyarrived on the frontiers of France, and, united with the troops ofDesiderius, king of Lombardy, poured down into Provence. Theconfederate armies had not marched many days through this gaytract before they heard a crash of drums and trumpets behind thehills, which spoke the conflict between the paynims, led byRodomont, and the Christian forces. Rinaldo, witnessing from amountain the prowess of Rodomont, left his troops in charge of hisfriends, and galloped towards him with his lance in rest. Theimpulse was irresistible, and Rodomont was unhorsed. But Rinaldo, unwilling to avail himself of his advantage, galloped back to thehill, and having secured Bayard among the baggage, returned tofinish the combat on foot. 

During this interval the battle had become general, the Hungarianswere routed, and Rinaldo, on his return, had the mortification tofind that Ottachiero was wounded, and Dudon taken prisoner. Whilehe sought Rodomont in order to renew the combat a new sound ofdrums and trumpets was heard, and Charlemagne, with the main bodyof his army, was descried advancing in battle array. 

Rodomont, seeing this, mounted the horse of Dudon, left Rinaldo, who was on foot, and galloped off to encounter this new enemy. 

Agramant, accompanied by Rogero, had by this time made good hislanding, and joined Rodomont with all his forces. Rogero eagerlyembraced this first opportunity of distinguishing himself, andspread terror wherever he went, encountering in turn andoverthrowing many of the bravest knights of France. At length hefound himself opposite to Rinaldo, who, being interrupted, as wehave said, in his combat with Rodomont, and unable to follow him, being on foot, was shouting to his late foe to return and finishtheir combat. Rogero also was on foot, and seeing the Christianknight so eager for a contest, proffered himself to supply theplace of his late antagonist. Rinaldo saw at a glance that theMoorish prince was a champion worthy of his arm, and gladlyaccepted the defiance. The combat was stoutly maintained for atime; but now fortune declared decisively in favor of the infidelarmy, and Charlemagne's forces gave way at all points inirreparable confusion. The two combatants were separated by thecrowd of fugitives and pursuers, and Rinaldo hastened to recoverpossession of his horse. But Bayard, in the confusion, had gotloose, and Rinaldo followed him into a thick wood, thus becomingeffectually separated from Rogero. 

Rogero, also seeking his horse in the medley, came where twowarriors were engaged in mortal combat. Though he knew not whothey were, he could distinguish that one was a paynim and theother a Christian; and moved by the spirit of courtesy heapproached them and exclaimed, "Let him of the two who worshipsChrist pause, and hear what I have to say. The army of Charles isrouted and in flight, so that if he wishes to follow his leader hehas no time for delay. " The Christian knight, who was none otherthan Bradamante, a female warrior, in prowess equal to the best ofknights, was thunderstruck with the tidings, and would gladlyleave the contest undecided, and retire from the field; butRodomont, her antagonist, would by no means consent. Rogero, indignant at his discourtesy, insisted upon her departure, whilehe took up her quarrel with Rodomont. 

The combat, obstinately maintained on both sides, was interruptedby the return of Bradamante. Finding herself unable to overtakethe fugitives, and reluctant to leave to another the burden andrisk of a contest which belonged to herself, she had returned toreclaim the combat. She arrived, however, when her champion haddealt his enemy such a blow as obliged him to drop both his swordand bridle. Rogero, disdaining to profit by his adversary'sdefenceless situation, sat apart upon his horse, while that ofRodomont bore his rider, stunned and stupefied, about the field. 

Bradamante approached Rogero, conceiving a yet higher opinion ofhis valor on beholding such an instance of forbearance. Sheaddressed him, excusing herself for leaving him exposed to anenemy from his interference in her cause; pleading her duty to hersovereign as the motive. While she spoke Rodomont, recovered fromhis confusion, rode up to them. His bearing was, however, changed;and he disclaimed all thoughts of further contest with one who, hesaid, "had already conquered him by his courtesy. " So saying, hequitted his antagonist, picked up his sword, and spurred out ofsight. 

Bradamante was now again desirous of retiring from the field, andRogero insisted on accompanying her, though yet unaware of hersex. 

As they pursued their way, she inquired the name and quality ofher new associate; and Rogero informed her of his nation andfamily. He told her that Astyanax, the son of Hector of Troy, established the kingdom of Messina in Sicily. From him werederived two branches, which gave origin to two families of renown. From one sprang the royal race of Pepin and Charlemagne, and fromthe other, that of Reggio, in Italy. "From that of Reggio am Iderived, " he continued. "My mother, driven from her home by thechance of war, died in giving me life, and I was taken in chargeby a sage enchanter, who trained me to feats of arms amidst thedangers of the desert and the chase. "

Having thus ended his tale, Rogero entreated a similar return ofcourtesy from his companion, who replied, without disguise, thatshe was of the race of Clermont, and sister to Rinaldo, whose famewas perhaps known to him. Rogero, much moved by this intelligence, entreated her to take off her helmet, and at the discovery of herface remained transported with delight. 

While absorbed in this contemplation, an unexpected dangerassailed them. A party which was placed in a wood, in order tointercept the retreating Christians, broke from its ambush uponthe pair, and Bradamante, who was uncasqued, was wounded in thehead. Rogero was in a fury at this attack; and Bradamante, replacing her helmet, joined him in taking speedy vengeance ontheir enemies. They cleared the field of them, but becameseparated in the pursuit, and Rogero, quitting the chase, wanderedby hill and vale in search of her whom he had no sooner found thanlost. 

While pursuing this quest he fell in with two knights, whom hejoined, and engaged them to assist him in the search of hiscompanion, describing her arms, but concealing, from a certainfeeling of jealousy, her quality and sex. 

It was evening when they joined company, and having riddentogether through the night the morning was beginning to break, when one of the strangers, fixing his eyes upon Rogero's shield, demanded of him by what right he bore the Trojan arms. Rogerodeclared his origin and race, and then, in his turn, interrogatedthe inquirer as to his pretensions to the cognizance of Hector, which he bore. The stranger replied, "My name is Mandricardo, sonof Agrican, the Tartar king, whom Orlando treacherously slew. Isay treacherously, for in fair fight he could not have done it. Itis in search of him that I have come to France, to take vengeancefor my father, and to wrest from him Durindana, that famous sword, which belongs to me, and not to him. " When the knights demanded toknow by what right he claimed Durindana, Mandricardo thus relatedhis history:

"I had been, before the death of my father, a wild and recklessyouth. That event awakened my energies, and drove me forth to seekfor vengeance. Determined to owe success to nothing but my ownexertions, I departed without attendants or horse or arms. Travelling thus alone, and on foot, I espied one day a pavilion, pitched near a fountain, and entered it, intent on adventure. Ifound therein a damsel of gracious aspect, who replied to myinquiries that the fountain was the work of a fairy, whose castlestood beyond a neighboring hill, where she kept watch over atreasure which many knights had tried to win, but fruitlessly, having lost their life or liberty in the attempt. This treasurewas the armor of Hector, prince of Troy, whom Achillestreacherously slew. Nothing was wanting but his sword, Durindana, and this had fallen into the possession of a queen namedPenthesilea, from whom it passed through her descendants toAlmontes, whom Orlando slew, and thus became possessed of thesword. The rest of Hector's arms were saved and carried off byAeneas, from whom this fairy received them in recompense ofservice rendered. 'If you have the courage to attempt theiracquisition, ' said the damsel, 'I will be your guide. '"

Mandricardo went on to say that he eagerly embraced the proposal, and being provided with horse and armor by the damsel, set forthon his enterprise, the lady accompanying him. 

As they rode she explained the dangers of the quest. The armor wasdefended by a champion, one of the numerous unsuccessfuladventurers for the prize, all of whom had been made prisoners bythe fairy, and compelled to take their turn, day by day, indefending the arms against all comers. Thus speaking they arrivedat the castle, which was of alabaster, overlaid with gold. Beforeit, on a lawn, sat an armed knight on horseback, who was noneother than Gradasso, king of Sericane, who, in his return homefrom his unsuccessful inroad into France, had fallen into thepower of the fairy, and was held to do her bidding. Mandricardo, upon seeing him, dropt his visor, and laid his lance in rest. Thechampion of the castle was equally ready, and each spurred towardshis opponent. They met one another with equal force, splinteredtheir spears, and, returning to the charge, encountered with theirswords. The contest was long and doubtful, when Mandricardo, determined to bring it to an end, threw his arms about Gradasso, grappled with him, and both fell to the ground. Mandricardo, however, fell uppermost, and, preserving his advantage, compelledGradasso to yield himself conquered. The damsel now interfered, congratulating the victor, and consoling the vanquished as well asshe might. 

Mandricardo and the damsel proceeded to the gate of the castle, which they found undefended. As they entered they beheld a shieldsuspended from a pilaster of gold. The device was a white eagle onan azure field, in memory of the bird of Jove, which bore awayGanymede, the flower of the Phrygian race. Beneath was engravedthe following couplet:

 "Let none with hand profane my buckler wrong Unless he be himself as Hector strong. "

The damsel, alighting from her palfrey, made obeisance to thearms, bending herself to the ground. The Tartar king bowed hishead with equal reverence; then advancing towards the shield, touched it with his sword. Thereupon an earthquake shook theground, and the way by which he had entered closed. Another and anopposite gate opened, and displayed a field bristling with stalksand grain of gold. The damsel, upon this, told him that he had nomeans of retreat but by cutting down the harvest which was beforehim, and by uprooting a tree which grew in the middle of thefield. Mandricardo, without replying, began to mow the harvestwith his sword, but had scarce smitten thrice when he perceivedthat every stalk that fell was instantly transformed into somepoisonous or ravenous animal, which prepared to assail him. Instructed by the damsel, he snatched up a stone and cast it amongthe pack. A strange wonder followed; for no sooner had the stonefallen among the beasts, than they turned their rage against oneanother, and rent each other to pieces. Mandricardo did not stopto marvel at the miracle, but proceeded to fulfil his task, anduproot the tree. He clasped it round the trunk, and made vigorousefforts to tear it up by the roots. At each effort fell a showerof leaves, that were instantly changed into birds of prey, whichattacked the knight, flapping their wings in his face, with horridscreeching. But undismayed by this new annoyance, he continued totug at the trunk till it yielded to his efforts. A burst of windand thunder followed, and the hawks and vultures flew screamingaway. 

But these only gave place to a new foe; for from the hole made bytearing up the tree issued a furious serpent, and, darting atMandricardo, wound herself about his limbs with a strain thatalmost crushed him. Fortune, however, again stood his friend, for, writhing under the folds of the monster, he fell backwards intothe hole, and his enemy was crushed beneath his weight. 

Mandricardo, when he was somewhat recovered, and assured himselfof the destruction of the serpent, began to contemplate the placeinto which he had fallen, and saw that he was in a vault, incrusted with costly metals, and illuminated by a live coal. Inthe middle was a sort of ivory bier, and upon this was extendedwhat appeared to be a knight in armor, but was in truth an emptytrophy, composed of the rich and precious arms once Hector's, towhich nothing was wanting but the sword. While Mandricardo stoodcontemplating the prize a door opened behind him, and a bevy offair damsels entered, dancing, who, taking up the armor piece bypiece, led him away to the place where the shield was suspended;where he found the fairy of the castle seated in state. By her hewas invested with the arms he had won, first pledging his solemnoath to wear no other blade but Durindana, which he was to wrestfrom Orlando, and thus complete the conquest of Hector's arms. 

THE INVASION OF FRANCE (Continued)

Mandricardo, having completed his story, now turned to Rogero, andproposed that arms should decide which of the two was most worthyto bear the symbol of the Trojan knight. 

Rogero felt no other objection to this proposal than the scruplewhich arose on observing that his antagonist was without a sword. Mandricardo insisted that this need be no impediment, since hisoath prevented him from using a sword until he should haveachieved the conquest of Durindana. 

This was no sooner said than a new antagonist started up inGradasso, who now accompanied Mandricardo. Gradasso vindicated hisprior right to Durindana, to obtain which he had embarked (as wasrelated in the beginning) in that bold inroad upon France. Aquarrel was thus kindled between the kings of Tartary andSericane. While the dispute was raging a knight arrived upon theground, accompanied by a damsel, to whom Rogero related the causeof the strife. The knight was Florismart, and his companionFlordelis. Florismart succeeded in bringing the two champions toaccord, by informing them that he could bring them to the presenceof Orlando, the master of Durindana. 

Gradasso and Mandricardo readily made truce, in order to accompanyFlorismart, nor would Rogero be left behind. 

As they proceeded on their quest they were met by a dwarf, whoentreated their assistance in behalf of his lady, who had beencarried off by an enchanter, mounted on a winged horse. Howeverunwilling to leave the question of the sword undecided, it was notpossible for the knights to resist this appeal. Two of theirnumber, Gradasso and Rogero, therefore accompanied the dwarf. Mandricardo persisted in his search for Orlando, and Florismart, with Flordelis, pursued their way to the camp of Charlemagne. 

Atlantes, the enchanter, who had brought up Rogero, and cherishedfor him the warmest affection, knew by his art that his pupil wasdestined to be severed from him, and converted to the Christianfaith through the influence of Bradamante, that royal maiden withwhom chance had brought him acquainted. Thinking to thwart thewill of Heaven in this respect, he now put forth all his arts toentrap Rogero into his power. By the aid of his subservient demonshe reared a castle on an inaccessible height, in the Pyreneanmountains, and to make it a pleasant abode to his pupil, contrivedto entrap and convey thither knights and damsels many a one, whomchance had brought into the vicinity of his castle. Here, in asort of sensual paradise, they were but too willing to forgetglory and duty, and to pass their time in indolent enjoyment

It was by the enchanter that the dwarf had now been sent to temptthe knights into his power. 

But we must now return to Rinaldo, whom we left interrupted in hiscombat with Rodomont. In search of his late antagonist and intenton bringing their combat to a decision he entered the forest ofArden, whither he suspected Rodomont had gone. While engaged onthis quest he was surprised by the vision of a beautiful childdancing naked, with three damsels as beautiful as himself. Whilehe was lost in admiration at the sight the child approached him, and, throwing at him handfuls of roses and lilies, struck him fromhis horse. He was no sooner down than he was seized by thedancers, by whom he was dragged about and scourged with flowerstill he fell into a swoon. When he began to revive one of thegroup approached him, and told him that his punishment was theconsequence of his rebellion against that power before whom allthings bend; that there was but one remedy to heal the wounds thathad been inflicted, and that was to drink of the waters of Love. Then they left him. 

Rinaldo, sore and faint, dragged himself toward a fountain whichflowed near by, and, being parched with thirst, drank greedily andalmost unconsciously of the water, which was sweet to the taste, but bitter to the heart. After repeated draughts he recovered hisstrength and recollection, and found himself in the same placewhere Angelica had formerly awakened him with a rain of flowers, and whence he had fled in contempt of her courtesy. 

This remembrance of the scene was followed by the recognition ofhis crime; and, repenting bitterly his ingratitude, he leaped uponBayard, with the intention of hastening to Angelica's country, andsoliciting his pardon at her feet. 

Let us now retrace our steps, and revert to the time when thepaladins having learned from Dudon the summons of Charlemagne toreturn to France to repel the invaders, had all obeyed the commandwith the exception of Orlando, whose passion for Angelica stillheld him in attendance on her. Orlando, arriving before Albracca, found it closely beleaguered. He, however, made his way into thecitadel, and related his adventures to Angelica, from the time ofhis departure up to his separation from Rinaldo and the rest, whenthey departed to the assistance of Charlemagne. Angelica, inreturn, described the distresses of the garrison, and the force ofthe besiegers; and in conclusion prayed Orlando to favor herescape from the pressing danger, and escort her into France. Orlando, who did not suspect that love for Rinaldo was her secretmotive, joyfully agreed to the proposal, and the sally wasresolved upon. 

Leaving lights burning in the fortress, they departed atnightfall, and passed in safety through the enemy's camp. Afterencountering numerous adventures they reached the sea-side, andembarked on board a pinnace for France. The vessel arrived safely, and the travellers, disembarking in Provence, pursued their way byland. One day, heated and weary, they sought shelter from the sunin the forest of Arden, and chance directed Angelica to thefountain of Disdain, of whose waters she eagerly drank. 

Issuing thence, the Count and damsel encountered a stranger-knight. It was no other than Rinaldo, who was just on the point ofsetting off on a pilgrimage in search of Angelica, to implore herpardon for his insensibility, and urge his new found passion. Surprise and delight at first deprived him of utterance, but soonrecovering himself, he joyfully saluted her, claiming her as his, and exhorting her to put herself under his protection. Hispresumption was repelled by Angelica with disdain, and Orlando, enraged at the invasion of his rights, challenged him to decidetheir claims by arms. 

Terrified at the combat which ensued, Angelica fled amain throughthe forest, and came out upon a plain covered with tents. This wasthe camp of Charlemagne, who led the army of reserve destined tosupport the troops which had advanced to oppose Marsilius. Charleshaving heard the damsel's tale, with difficulty separated the twocousins, and then consigned Angelica, as the cause of quarrel, tothe care of Namo, Duke of Bavaria, promising that she should behis who should best deserve her in the impending battle. 

But these plans and hopes were frustrated. The Christian army, beaten at all points, fled from the Saracens; and Angelica, indifferent to both her lovers, mounted a swift palfrey andplunged into the forest, rejoicing, in spite of her terror, athaving regained her liberty. She stopped at last in a tuftedgrove, where a gentle zephyr blew, and whose young trees werewatered by two clear runnels, which came and mingled their waters, making a pleasing murmur. Believing herself far from Rinaldo, andovercome by fatigue and the summer heat, she saw with delight abank covered with flowers so thick that they almost hid the greenturf, inviting her to alight and rest. She dismounted from herpalfrey, and turned him loose to recruit his strength with thetender grass which bordered the streamlets. Then, in a shelterednook tapestried with moss and fenced in with roses and hawthorn-flowers, she yielded herself to grateful repose. 

She had not slept long when she was awakened by the noise made bythe approach of a horse. Starting up, she saw an armed knight whohad arrived at the bank of the stream. Not knowing whether he wasto be feared or not, her heart beat with anxiety. She pressedaside the leaves to allow her to see who it was, but scarce daredto breathe for fear of betraying herself. Soon the knight threwhimself on the flowery bank, and leaning his head on his hand fellinto a profound reverie. Then arousing himself from his silence hebegan to pour forth complaints, mingled with deep sighs. Rivers oftears flowed down his cheeks, and his breast seemed to labor witha hidden flame. "Ah, vain regrets!" he exclaimed; "cruel fortune!others triumph, while I endure hopeless misery! Better a thousandtimes to lose life, than wear a chain so disgraceful and sooppressive!"

Angelica by this time had recognized the stranger, and perceivedthat it was Sacripant, king of Circassia, one of the worthiest ofher suitors. This prince had followed Angelica from his country, at the very gates of the day, to France, where he heard withdismay that she was under the guardianship of the Paladin Orlando, and that the Emperor had announced his decree to award her as theprize of valor to that one of his nephews who should best deserveher. 

As Sacripant continued to lament, Angelica, who had always opposedthe hardness of marble to his sighs, thought with herself thatnothing forbade her employing his good offices in this unhappycrisis. Though firmly resolved never to accept him as a spouse, she yet felt the necessity of giving him a gleam of hope in rewardfor the service she required of him. All at once, like Diana, shestepped forth from the arbor. "May the gods preserve thee, " shesaid, "and put far from thee all hard thoughts of me!" Then shetold him all that had befallen her since she parted with him ather father's court, and how she had availed herself of Orlando'sprotection to escape from the beleaguered city. At that moment thenoise of horse and armor was heard as of one approaching; andSacripant, furious at the interruption, resumed his helmet, mounted his horse, and placed his lance in rest. He saw a knightadvancing, with scarf and plume of snowy whiteness. Sacripantregarded him with angry eyes, and, while he was yet some distanceoff, defied him to the combat. The other, not moved by his angrytone to make reply, put himself on his defence. Their horses, struck at the same moment with the spur, rushed upon one anotherwith the impetuosity of a tempest. Their shields were pierced eachwith the other's lance, and only the temper of their breastplatessaved their lives. Both the horses recoiled with the violence ofthe shock; but the unknown knight's recovered itself at the touchof the spur; the Saracen king's fell dead, and bore down hismaster with him. The white knight, seeing his enemy in thiscondition, cared not to renew the combat, but, thinking he haddone enough for glory, pursued his way through the forest, and wasa mile off before Sacripant had got free from his horse. 

As a ploughman, stunned by a thunder-clap which has stricken deadthe oxen at his plough, stands motionless, sadly contemplating hisloss, so Sacripant stood confounded and overwhelmed withmortification at having Angelica a witness of his defeat. Hegroaned, he sighed, less from the pain of his bruises than for theshame of being reduced to such a state before her. The princesstook pity on him, and consoled him as well as she could. "Banishyour regrets, my lord, " she said, "this accident has happenedsolely in consequence of the feebleness of your horse, which hadmore need of rest and food than of such an encounter as this. Norcan your adversary gain any credit by it, since he has hurriedaway, not venturing a second trial. " While she thus consoledSacripant they perceived a person approach, who seemed a courier, with bag and horn. As soon as he came up, he accosted Sacripant, and inquired if he had seen a knight pass that way, bearing awhite shield and with a white plume to his helmet. "I have, indeed, seen too much of him, " said Sacripant, "it is he who hasbrought me to the ground; but at least I hope to learn from youwho that knight is. " "That I can easily inform you, " said the man;"know then that, if you have been overthrown, you owe your fate tothe high prowess of a lady as beautiful as she is brave. It is thefair and illustrious Bradamante who has won from you the honors ofvictory. "

At these words the courier rode on his way, leaving Sacripant moreconfounded and mortified than ever. In silence he mounted thehorse of Angelica, taking the lady behind him on the croup, androde away in search of a more secure asylum. Hardly had theyridden two miles when a new sound was heard in the forest, andthey perceived a gallant and powerful horse, which, leaping theravines and dashing aside the branches that opposed his passage, appeared before them, accoutred with a rich harness adorned withgold. 

"If I may believe my eyes, which penetrate with difficulty theunderwood, " said Angelica, "that horse that dashes so stoutlythrough the bushes is Bayard, and I marvel how he seems to knowthe need we have of him, mounted as we are both on one feebleanimal. " Sacripant, dismounting from the palfrey, approached thefiery courser, and attempted to seize his bridle, but thedisdainful animal, turning from him, launched at him a volley ofkicks enough to have shattered a wall of marble. Bayard thenapproached Angelica with an air as gentle and loving as a faithfuldog could his master after a long separation. For he rememberedhow she had caressed him, and even fed him, in Albracca. She tookhis bridle in her left hand, while with her right she patted hisneck. The beautiful animal, gifted with wonderful intelligence, seemed to submit entirely. Sacripant, seizing the moment to vaultupon him, controlled his curvetings, and Angelica, quitting thecroup of the palfrey, regained her seat. 

But, turning his eyes toward a place where was heard a noise ofarms, Sacripant beheld Rinaldo. That hero now loves Angelica morethan his life, and she flies him as the timid crane the falcon. 

The fountain of which Angelica had drunk produced such an effecton the beautiful queen that, with distressed countenance andtrembling voice, she conjured Sacripant not to wait the approachof Rinaldo, but to join her in flight. 

"Am I, then, " said Sacripant, "of so little esteem with you thatyou doubt my power to defend you? Do you forget the battle ofAlbracca, and how, in your defence, I fought single-handed againstAgrican and all his knights?"

Angelica made no reply, uncertain what to do; but already Rinaldowas too near to be escaped. He advanced menacingly to theCircassian king, for he recognized his horse. 

"Vile thief, " he cried, "dismount from that horse, and prevent thepunishment that is your due for daring to rob me of my property. Leave, also, the princess in my hands; for it would indeed be asin to suffer so charming a lady and so gallant a charger toremain in such keeping. "

The king of Circassia, furious at being thus insulted, cried out, "Thou liest, villain, in giving me the name of thief, which betterbelongs to thyself than to me. It is true, the beauty of this ladyand the perfection of this horse are unequalled; come on, then, and let us try which of us is most worthy to possess them. "

At these words the king of Circassia and Rinaldo attacked oneanother with all their force, one fighting on foot, the other onhorseback. You need not, however, suppose that the Saracen kingfound any advantage in this; for a young page, unused tohorsemanship, could not have failed more completely to manageBayard than did this accomplished knight. The faithful animalloved his master too well to injure him, and refused his aid aswell as his obedience to the hand of Sacripant, who could strikebut ineffectual blows, the horse backing when he wished him to goforward, and dropping his head and arching his back, throwing outwith his legs, so as almost to shake the knight out of the saddle. Sacripant, seeing that he could not manage him, watched hisopportunity, rose on his saddle, and leapt lightly to the earth;then, relieved from the embarrassment of the horse, renewed thecombat on more equal terms. Their skill to thrust and parry wereequal; one rises, the other stoops; with one foot set firm theyturn and wind, to lay on strokes or to dodge them. At lastRinaldo, throwing himself on the Circassian, dealt him a blow soterrible that Fusberta, his good sword, cut in two the buckler ofSacripant, although it was made of bone, and covered with a thickplate of steel well tempered. The arm of the Saracen was deprivedof its defence, and almost palsied with the stroke. Angelica, perceiving how victory was likely to incline, and shuddering atthe thought of becoming the prize of Rinaldo, hesitated no longer. Turning her horse's head, she fled with the utmost speed; and, inspite of the round pebbles which covered a steep descent, sheplunged into a deep valley, trembling with the fear that Rinaldowas in pursuit. At the bottom of this valley she encountered anaged hermit, whose white beard flowed to his middle, and whosevenerable appearance seemed to assure his piety. 

This hermit, who appeared shrunk by age and fasting, travelledslowly, mounted upon a wretched ass. The princess, overcome withfear, conjured him to save her life; and to conduct her to someport of the sea, whence she might embark and quit France, nevermore to hear the odious name of Rinaldo. 

The old hermit was something of a wizard. He comforted Angelica, and promised to protect her from all peril. Then he opened hisscrip, and took from thence a book, and had read but a single pagewhen a goblin, obedient to his incantations, appeared, under theform of a laboring man, and demanded his orders. He received them, transported himself to the place where the knights stillmaintained their conflict, and boldly stepped between the two. 

"Tell me, I pray you, " he said, "what benefit will accrue to himwho shall get the better in this contest? The object you arecontending for is already disposed of; for the Paladin Orlando, without effort and without opposition, is now carrying away theprincess Angelica to Paris. You had better pursue them promptly;for if they reach Paris you will never see her again. "

At these words you might have seen those rival warriorsconfounded, stupefied, silently agreeing that they were affordingtheir rival a fair opportunity to triumph over them. Rinaldo, approaching Bayard, breathes a sigh of shame and rage, and swearsa terrible oath that, if he overtakes Orlando, he will tear hisheart out. Then mounting Bayard and pressing his flanks with hisspurs, he leaves the king of Circassia on foot in the forest. 

Let it not appear strange that Rinaldo found Bayard obedient atlast, after having so long prevented any one from even touchinghis bridle; for that fine animal had an intelligence almost human;he had fled from his master only to draw him on the track ofAngelica, and enable him to recover her. He saw when the princessfled from the battle, and Rinaldo being then engaged in a fight onfoot, Bayard found himself free to follow the traces of Angelica. Thus he had drawn his master after him, not permitting him toapproach, and had brought him to the sight of the princess. ButBayard now, deceived like his master with the false intelligenceof the goblin, submits to be mounted and to serve his master asusual, and Rinaldo, animated with rage, makes him fly towardParis, more slowly than his wishes, though the speed of Bayardoutstripped the winds. Full of impatience to encounter Orlando, hegave but a few hours that night to sleep. Early the next day hesaw before him the great city, under the walls of which theEmperor Charles had collected the scattered remains of his army. Foreseeing that he would soon be attacked on all sides, theEmperor had caused the ancient fortifications to be repaired, andnew ones to be built, surrounded by wide and deep ditches. Thedesire to hold the field against the enemy made him seize everymeans of procuring new allies. He hoped to receive from Englandaid sufficient to enable him to form a new camp, and as soon asRinaldo rejoined him he selected him to go as his ambassador intoEngland, to plead for auxiliaries. Rinaldo was far from pleasedwith his commission, but he obeyed the Emperor's commands, withoutgiving himself time to devote a single day to the object nearesthis heart. He hastened to Calais, and lost not a moment inembarking for England, ardently desiring a hasty despatch of hiscommission, and a speedy return to France. 

BRADAMANTE AND ROGERO

Bradamante, the knight of the white plume and shield, whosesudden appearance and encounter with Sacripant we have alreadytold, was in quest of Rogero, from whom chance had separated her, almost at the beginning of their acquaintance. After her encounterwith Sacripant Bradamante pursued her way through the forest, inhopes of rejoining Rogero, and arrived at last on the brink of afair fountain. 

This fountain flowed through a broad meadow. Ancient treesovershadowed it, and travellers, attracted by the sweet murmur ofits waters, stopped there to cool themselves. Bradamante, castingher eyes on all sides to enjoy the beauties of the spot, perceived, under the shade of a tree, a knight reclining, whoseemed to be oppressed with the deepest grief

Bradamante accosted him, and asked to be informed of the cause ofhis distress. "Alas! my lord, " said he, "I lament a young andcharming friend, my affianced wife, who has been torn from me by avillain, --let me rather call him a demon, --who, on a winged horse, descended from the air, seized her, and bore her screaming to hisden. I have pursued them over rocks and through ravines till myhorse is no longer able to bear me, and I now wait only fordeath. " He added that already a vain attempt on his behalf hadbeen made by two knights, whom chance had brought to the spot. Their names were Gradasso, king of Sericane, and Rogero, the Moor. Both had been overcome by the wiles of the enchanter, and wereadded to the number of the captives, whom he held in animpregnable castle, situated on the height of the mountain. At themention of Rogero's name Bradamante started with delight, whichwas soon changed to an opposite sentiment when she heard that herlover was a prisoner in the toils of the enchanter. "Sir Knight, "she said, "do not surrender yourself to despair; this day may bemore happy for you than you think, if you will only lead me to thecastle which enfolds her whom you deplore. "

The knight responded, "After having lost all that made life dearto me I have no motive to avoid the dangers of the enterprise, andI will do as you request; but I forewarn you of the perils youwill have to encounter. If you fall impute it not to me. "

Having thus spoken, they took their way to the castle, but wereovertaken by a messenger from the camp, who had been sent in questof Bradamante to summon her back to the army, where her presencewas needed to reassure her disheartened forces, and withstand theadvance of the Moors. 

The mournful knight, whose name was Pinabel, thus became awarethat Bradamante was a scion of the house of Clermont, betweenwhich and his own of Mayence there existed an ancient feud. Fromthis moment the traitor sought only how he might be rid of thecompany of Bradamante, from whom he feared no good would come tohim, but rather mortal injury, if his name and lineage becameknown to her. For he judged her by his own base model, and, knowing his ill deserts, he feared to receive his due. 

Bradamante, in spite of the summons to return to the army, couldnot resolve to leave her lover in captivity, and determined firstto finish the adventure on which she was engaged. Pinabel leadingthe way, they at length arrived at a wood, in the centre of whichrose a steep, rocky mountain. Pinabel, who now thought of nothingelse but how he might escape from Bradamante, proposed to ascendthe mountain to extend his view, in order to discover a shelterfor the night, if any there might be within sight. Under thispretence he left Bradamante, and advanced up the side of themountain till he came to a cleft in the rock, down which helooked, and perceived that it widened below into a spaciouscavern. Meanwhile Bradamante, fearful of losing her guide, hadfollowed close on his footsteps, and rejoined him at the mouth ofthe cavern. Then the traitor, seeing the impossibility of escapingher, conceived another design. He told her that before herapproach he had seen in the cavern a young and beautiful damsel, whose rich dress announced her high birth, who with tears andlamentations implored assistance; that before he could descend torelieve her a ruffian had seized her, and hurried her away intothe recesses of the cavern. 

Bradamante, full of truth and courage, readily believed this lieof the Mayencian traitor. Eager to succor the damsel, she lookedround for the means of facilitating the descent, and seeing alarge elm with spreading branches she lopped off with her swordone of the largest, and thrust it into the opening. She toldPinabel to hold fast to the larger end, while, grasping thebranches with her hands, she let herself down into the cavern. 

The traitor smiled at seeing her thus suspended, and, asking herin mockery, "Are you a good leaper?" he let go the branch withperfidious glee, and saw Bradamante precipitated to the bottom ofthe cave. "I wish your whole race were there with you, " hemuttered, "that you might all perish together. "

But Pinabel's atrocious design was not accomplished. The twigs andfoliage of the branch broke its descent, and Bradamante, notseriously injured, though stunned with her fall, was reserved forother adventures. 

As soon as she recovered from the shock Bradamante cast her eyesaround and perceived a door, through which she passed into asecond cavern, larger and loftier than the first. It had theappearance of a subterranean temple. Columns of the purestalabaster adorned it, and supported the roof; a simple altar rosein the middle; a lamp, whose radiance was reflected by thealabaster walls, cast a mild light around. 

Bradamante, inspired by a sense of religious awe, approached thealtar, and, falling on her knees, poured forth her prayers andthanks to the Preserver of her life, invoking the protection ofhis power. At that moment a small door opened, and a female issuedfrom it with naked feet, and flowing robe and hair, who called herby her name, and thus addressed her: "Brave and generousBradamante, know that it is a power from above that has broughtyou hither. The spirit of Merlin, whose last earthly abode was inthis place, has warned me of your arrival, and of the fate thatawaits you. This famous grotto, " she continued, "was the work ofthe enchanter Merlin; here his ashes repose. You have no doubtheard how this sage and virtuous enchanter ceased to be. Victim ofthe artful fairy of the lake, Merlin, by a fatal compliance withher request, laid himself down living in his tomb, without powerto resist the spell laid upon him by that ingrate, who retainedhim there as long as he lived. His spirit hovers about this spot, and will not leave it, until the last trumpet shall summon thedead to judgment. He answers the questions of those who approachhis tomb, where perhaps you may be privileged to hear his voice. "

Bradamante, astonished at these words, and the objects which mether view, knew not whether she was awake or asleep. Confused, butmodest, she cast down her eyes, and a blush overspread her face. "Ah, what am I, " said she, "that so great a prophet should deignto speak to me!" Still, with a secret satisfaction, she followedthe priestess, who led her to the tomb of Merlin. This tomb wasconstructed of a species of stone hard and resplendent like fire. The rays which beamed from the stone sufficed to light up thatterrible place, where the sun's rays never penetrated; but I knownot whether that light was the effect of a certain phosphorescenceof the stone itself, or of the many talismans and charms withwhich it was wrought over. 

Bradamante had hardly passed the threshold of this sacred placewhen the spirit of the enchanter saluted her with a voice firm anddistinct: "May thy designs be prosperous, O chaste and noblemaiden, the future mother of heroes, the glory of Italy, anddestined to fill the whole world with their fame. Great captains, renowned knights, shall be numbered among your descendants, whoshall defend the Church and restore their country to its ancientsplendor. Princes, wise as Augustus and the sage Numa, shall bringback the age of gold. [Footnote: This prophecy is introduced byAriosto in this place to compliment the noble house of Este, theprinces of his native state, the dukedom of Ferrara. ] Toaccomplish these grand destinies it is ordained that you shall wedthe illustrious Rogero. Fly then to his deliverance, and layprostrate in the dust the traitor who has snatched him from you, and now holds him in chains!"

Merlin ceased with these words, and left to Melissa, thepriestess, the charge of more fully instructing the maiden in herfuture course. "To-morrow, " said she, "I will conduct you to thecastle on the rock where Rogero is held captive. I will not leaveyou till I have guided you through this wild wood, and I willdirect you on your way so that you shall be in no danger ofmistaking it. "

The next morning Melissa conducted Bradamante between rocks andprecipices, crossing rapid torrents, and traversing intricatepasses, employing the time in imparting to her such information aswas necessary to enable her to bring her design to a successfulissue. 

"Not only would the castle, impenetrable by force, and that wingedhorse of his baffle your efforts, but know that he possesses alsoa buckler whence flashes a light so brilliant that the eyes of allwho look upon it are blinded. Think not to avoid it by shuttingyour eyes, for how then will you be able to avoid his blows, andmake him feel your own? But I will teach you the proper course topursue. 

"Agramant, the Moorish prince, possesses a ring stolen from aqueen of India, which has power to render of no avail allenchantments. Agramant, knowing that Rogero is of more importanceto him than any one of his warriors, is desirous of rescuing himfrom the power of the enchanter, and has sent for that purposeBrunello, the most crafty and sagacious of his servants, providedwith his wonderful ring, and he is even now at hand, bent on thisenterprise. But, beautiful Bradamante, as I desire that no one butyourself shall have the glory of delivering from thraldom yourfuture spouse, listen while I disclose the means of success. Following this path which leads by the seashore, you will come erelong to a hostelry, where the Saracen Brunello will arrive shortlybefore you. You will readily know him by his stature, under fourfeet, his great disproportioned head, his squint eyes, his lividhue, his thick eyebrows joining his tufted beard. His dress, moreover, that of a courier, will point him out to you. 

"It will be easy for you to enter into conversation with him, announcing yourself as a knight seeking combat with the enchanter, but let not the knave suspect that you know anything about thering. I doubt not that he will be your guide to the castle of theenchanter. Accept his offer, but take care to keep behind him tillyou come in sight of the brilliant dome of the castle. Thenhesitate not to strike him dead, for the wretch deserves no pity, and take from him the ring. But let him not suspect yourintention, for by putting the ring into his mouth he willinstantly become invisible, and disappear from your eyes. "

Saying thus, the sage Melissa and the fair Bradamante arrived nearthe city of Bordeaux, where the rich and wide river Garonne poursthe tribute of its waves into the sea. They parted with tenderembraces. Bradamante, intent wholly on her purpose, hastened toarrive at the hostelry, where Brunello had preceded her a fewmoments only. The young heroine knew him without difficulty. Sheaccosted him, and put to him some slight questions, to which hereplied with adroit falsehoods. Bradamante, on her part, concealedfrom him her sex, her religion, her country, and the blood fromwhence she sprung. While they talk together, sudden cries areheard from all parts of the hostelry. "O queen of heaven!"exclaimed Bradamante, "what can be the cause of this suddenalarm?" She soon learned the cause. Host, children, domestics, all, with upturned eyes, as if they saw a comet or a greateclipse, were gazing on a prodigy which seemed to pass the boundsof possibility. She beheld distinctly a winged horse, mounted witha cavalier in rich armor, cleaving the air with rapid flight. Thewings of this strange courser were wide extended, and covered withfeathers of various colors. The polished armor of the knight madethem shine with rainbow tints. In a short time the horse and riderdisappeared behind the summits of the mountains. 

"It is an enchanter, " said the host, "a magician who often is seentraversing the air in that way. Sometimes he flies aloft as ifamong the stars, and at others skims along the land. He possessesa wonderful castle on the top of the Pyrenees. Many knights haveshown their courage by going to attack him, but none have everreturned, from which it is to be feared they have lost eithertheir life or their liberty. "

Bradamante, addressing the host, said, "Could you furnish me aguide to conduct me to the castle of this enchanter?" "By myfaith, " said Brunello, interrupting, "that you shall not seek invain; I have it all in writing, and I will myself conduct you. "Bradamante, with thanks, accepted him for her guide. 

The host had a tolerable horse to dispose of, which Bradamantebargained for, and the next day, at the first dawn of morning, shetook her route by a narrow valley, taking care to have the SaracenBrunello lead the way. 

They reached the summit of the Pyrenees, whence one may look downon France, Spain, and the two seas. From this height theydescended again by a fatiguing road into a deep valley. From themiddle of this valley an isolated mountain rose, composed of roughand perpendicular rock, on whose summit was the castle, surroundedwith a wall of brass. Brunello said, "Yonder is the strongholdwhere the enchanter keeps his prisoners; one must have wings tomount thither; it is easy to see that the aid of a flying horsemust be necessary for the master of this castle, which he uses forhis prison and for his abode. "

Bradamante, sufficiently instructed, saw that the time had nowcome to possess herself of the ring; but she could not resolve toslay a defenceless man. She seized Brunello before he was aware, bound him to a tree, and took from him the ring which he wore onone of his fingers. The cries and entreaties of the perfidiousSaracen moved her not. She advanced to the foot of the rockwhereon the castle stood, and, to draw the magician to the combat, sounded her horn, adding to it cries of defiance. 

The enchanter delayed not to present himself, mounted on hiswinged horse. Bradamante was struck with surprise mixed with joywhen she saw that this person, described as so formidable, bore nolance nor club, nor any other deadly weapon. He had only on hisarm a buckler, covered with a cloth, and in his hand an open book. As to the winged horse, there was no enchantment about him. He wasa natural animal, of a species which exists in the Riphaeanmountains. Like a griffin, he had the head of an eagle, clawsarmed with talons, and wings covered with feathers, the rest ofhis body being that of a horse. This strange animal is called aHippogriff. 

The heroine attacked the enchanter on his approach, striking onthis side and on that, with all the energy of a violent combat, but wounding only the wind; and after this pretended attack hadlasted some time dismounted from her horse, as if hoping to dobattle more effectually on foot. The enchanter now prepares toemploy his sole weapon, by uncovering the magic buckler whichnever failed to subdue an enemy by depriving him of his senses. Bradamante, confiding in her ring, observed all the motions of heradversary, and, at the unveiling of the shield, cast herself onthe ground, pretending that the splendor of the shield hadovercome her, but in reality to induce the enchanter to dismountand approach her. 

It happened according to her wish. When the enchanter saw herprostrate he made his horse alight on the ground, and, dismounting, fixed the shield on the pommel of his saddle, andapproached in order to secure the fallen warrior. Bradamante, whowatched him intently, as soon as she saw him near at hand, sprangup, seized him vigorously, threw him down, and, with the samechain which the enchanter had prepared for herself, bound himfast, without his being able to make any effectual resistance. 

The enchanter, with the accents of despair, exclaimed, "Take mylife, young man!" but Bradamante was far from complying with sucha wish. Desirous of knowing the name of the enchanter, and forwhat purpose he had formed with so much art this impregnablefortress, she commanded him to inform her. 

"Alas!" replied the magician, while tears flowed down his cheeks, "it is not to conceal booty, nor for any culpable design that Ihave built this castle; it was only to guard the life of a youngknight, the object of my tenderest affection, my art having taughtme that he is destined to become a Christian, and to perish, shortly after, by the blackest of treasons. 

"This youth, named Rogero, is the most beautiful and mostaccomplished of knights. It is I, the unhappy Atlantes, who havereared him from his childhood. The call of honor and the desire ofglory led him from me to follow Agramant, his prince, in hisinvasion of France, and I, more devoted to Rogero than thetenderest of parents, have sought the means of bringing him backto this abode, in the hope of saving him from the cruel fate thatmenaces him. 

"For this purpose I have got him in my possession by the samemeans as I attempted to employ against you; and by which I havesucceeded in collecting a great many knights and ladies in mycastle. My purpose was to render my beloved pupil's captivitylight, by affording him society to amuse him, and keep histhoughts from running on subjects of war and glory. Alas! my careshave been in vain! Yet, take, I beseech you, whatever else I have, but spare me my beloved pupil. Take this shield, take this wingedcourser, deliver such of your friends as you may find among myprisoners, deliver them all if you will, but leave me my belovedRogero; or if you will snatch him too from me, take also my life, which will cease then to be to me worth preserving. "

Bradamante replied: "Old man, hope not to move me by your vainentreaties. It is precisely the liberty of Rogero that I require. You would keep him here in bondage and in slothful pleasure, tosave him from a fate which you foresee. Vain old man! how can youforesee his fate when you could not foresee your own? You desireme to take your life. No, my aim and my soul refuse the request. "This said, she required the magician to go before, and guide herto the castle. The prisoners were set at liberty, though some, intheir secret hearts, regretted the voluptuous life which was thusbrought to an end. Bradamante and Rogero met one another withtransports of joy. 

They descended from the mountain to the spot where the encounterhad taken place. There they found the Hippogriff, with the magicbuckler in its wrapper, hanging to his saddle-bow. Bradamanteadvanced to seize the bridle; the Hippogriff seemed to wait herapproach, but before she reached him he spread his wings and flewaway to a neighboring hill, and in the same manner, a second time, eluded her efforts. Rogero and the other liberated knightsdispersed over the plain and hilltops to secure him, and at lastthe animal allowed Rogero to seize his rein. The fearless Rogerohesitated not to vault upon his back, and let him feel his spurs, which so roused his mettle that, after galloping a short distance, he suddenly spread his wings, and soared into the air. Bradamantehad the grief to see her lover snatched away from her at the verymoment of reunion. Rogero, who knew not the art of directing thehorse, was unable to control his flight. He found himself carriedover the tops of the mountains, so far above them that he couldhardly distinguish what was land and what water. The Hippogriffdirected his flight to the west, and cleaved the air as swiftly asa new-rigged vessel cuts the waves, impelled by the freshest andmost favorable gales. 

ASTOLPHO AND THE ENCHANTRESS

In the long flight which Rogero took on the back of the Hippogriffhe was carried over land and sea, unknowing whither. As soon as hehad gained some control over the animal he made him alight on thenearest land. When he came near enough to earth Rogero leaptlightly from his back, and tied the animal to a myrtle-tree. Nearthe spot flowed the pure waters of a fountain, surrounded bycedars and palm-trees. Rogero laid aside his shield, and, removinghis helmet, breathed with delight the fresh air, and cooled hislips with the waters of the fountain. For we cannot wonder that hewas excessively fatigued, considering the ride he had taken. Hewas preparing to taste the sweets of repose when he perceived thatthe Hippogriff, which he had tied by the bridle to a myrtle-tree, frightened at something, was making violent efforts to disengagehimself. His struggle shook the myrtle-tree so that many of itsbeautiful leaves were torn off, and strewed the ground. 

A sound like that which issues from burning wood seemed to comefrom the myrtle-tree, at first faint and indistinct, but growingstronger by degrees, and at length was audible as a voice whichspoke in this manner: "O knight, if the tenderness of your heartcorresponds to the beauty of your person, relieve me, I pray you, from this tormenting animal. I suffer enough inwardly withouthaving outward evils added to my lot. "

Rogero, at the first accents of this voice, turned his eyespromptly on the myrtle, hastened to it, and stood fixed inastonishment when he perceived that the voice issued from the treeitself. He immediately untied his horse, and, flushed withsurprise and regret, exclaimed, "Whoever thou art, whether mortalor the goddess of these woods, forgive me, I beseech you, myinvoluntary fault. Had I imagined that this hard bark covered abeing possessed of feeling, could I have exposed such a beautifulmyrtle to the insults of this steed? May the sweet influences ofthe sky and air speedily repair the injury I have done! For mypart, I promise by the sovereign lady of my heart to do everythingyou wish in order to merit your forgiveness. "

At these words the myrtle seemed to tremble from root to stem, andRogero remarked that a moisture as of tears trickled down itsbark, like that which exudes from a log placed on the fire. Itthen spoke:

"The kindness which inspires your words compels me to disclose toyou who I once was, and by what fatality I have been changed intothis shape. My name was Astolpho, cousin of Orlando and Rinaldo, whose fame has filled the earth. I was myself reckoned among thebravest paladins of France, and was by birth entitled to reignover England, after Otho, my father. Returning from the distantEast, with Rinaldo and many other brave knights, called home toaid with our arms the great Emperor of France, we reached a spotwhere the powerful enchantress Alcina possessed a castle on theborders of the sea. She had gone to the water-side to amuseherself with fishing, and we paused to see how, by her art, without hook or line, she drew from the water whatever she would. 

"Not far from the shore an enormous whale showed a back so broadand motionless that it looked like an island. Alcina had fixed hereyes on me, and planned to get me into her power. Addressing us, she said: 'This is the hour when the prettiest mermaid in the seacomes regularly every day to the shore of yonder island. She singsso sweetly that the very waves flow smoother at the sound. If youwish to hear her come with me to her resort. ' So saying, Alcinapointed to the fish, which we all supposed to be an island. I, whowas rash, did not hesitate to follow her; but swam my horse over, and mounted on the back of the fish. In vain Rinaldo and Dudonmade signs to me to beware; Alcina, smiling, took me in charge, and led the way. No sooner were we mounted upon him than the whalemoved off, spreading his great fins, and cleft rapidly the waters. I then saw my folly, but it was too late to repent. Alcina soothedmy anger, and professed that what she had done was for love of me. Ere long we arrived at this island, where at first everything wasdone to reconcile me to my lot, and to make my days pass happilyaway. But soon Alcina, sated with her conquest, grew indifferent, then weary of me, and at last, to get rid of me, changed me intothis form, as she had done to many lovers before me, making someof them olives, some palms, some cedars, changing others intofountains, rocks, or even into wild beasts. And thou, courteousknight, whom accident has brought to this enchanted isle, bewarethat she get not the power over thee, or thou shalt haply be madelike us, a tree, a fountain, or a rock. "

Rogero expressed his astonishment at this recital. Astolpho addedthat the island was in great part subject to the sway of Alcina. By the aid of her sister Morgana, she had succeeded indispossessing a third sister, Logestilla, of nearly the whole ofher patrimony, for the whole isle was hers originally by herfather's bequest. But Logestilla was temperate and sage, while theother sisters were false and voluptuous. Her empire was dividedfrom theirs by a gulf and chain of mountains, which alone had thusfar prevented her sister from usurping it. 

Astolpho here ended his tale, and Rogero, who knew that he was thecousin of Bradamante, would gladly have devised some way for hisrelief; but, as that was out of his power, he consoled him as wellas he could, and then begged to be told the way to the palace ofLogestilla, and how to avoid that of Alcina. Astolpho directed himto take the road to the left, though rough and full of rocks. Hewarned him that this road would present serious obstacles; thattroops of monsters would oppose his passage, employed by the artof Alcina to prevent her subjects from escaping from her dominion. Rogero thanked the myrtle, and prepared to set out on his way. 

He at first thought he would mount the winged horse, and scale themountain on his back; but he was too uncertain of his power tocontrol him to wish to encounter the hazard of another flightthrough the air, besides that he was almost famished for the wantof food. So he led the horse after him, and took the road on foot, which for some distance led equally to the dominions of both thesisters. 

He had not advanced more than two miles when he saw before him thesuperb city of Alcina. It was surrounded with a wall of gold, which seemed to reach the skies. I know that some think that thiswall was not of real gold, but only the work of alchemy; itmatters not; I prefer to think it gold, for it certainly shonelike gold. 

A broad and level road led to the gates of the city, and from thisanother branched off, narrow and rough, which led to the mountainregion. Rogero took without hesitation the narrow road; but he hadno sooner entered upon it than he was assailed by a numerous troopwhich opposed his passage. 

You never have seen anything so ridiculous, so extraordinary, asthis host of hobgoblins were. Some of them bore the human formfrom the neck to the feet, but had the head of a monkey or a cat;others had the legs and the ears of a horse; old men and women, bald and hideous, ran hither and thither as if out of theirsenses, half clad in the shaggy skins of beasts; one rode fullspeed on a horse without a bridle, another jogged along mounted onan ass or a cow; others, full of agility, skipped about, and clungto the tails and manes of the animals which their companions rode. Some blew horns, others brandished drinking-cups; some were armedwith spits, and some with pitchforks. One, who appeared to be thecaptain, had an enormous belly and a gross fat head; he wasmounted on a tortoise, that waddled, now this way, now that, without keeping any one direction. 

One of these monsters, who had something approaching the humanform, though he had the neck, ears, and muzzle of a dog, sethimself to bark furiously at Rogero, to make him turn off to theright, and reenter upon the road to the gay city; but the bravechevalier exclaimed, "That will I not, so long as I can use thissword, "--and he thrust the point directly at his face. The monstertried to strike him with a lance, but Rogero was too quick forhim, and thrust his sword through his body, so that it appeared ahand's breadth behind his back. The paladin, now giving full ventto his rage, laid about him vigorously among the rabble, cleavingone to the teeth, another to the girdle; but the troop were sonumerous, and in spite of his blows pressed around him so close, that, to clear his way, he must have had as many arms as Briareus. 

If Rogero had uncovered the shield of the enchanter, which hung athis saddle-bow, he might easily have vanquished this monstrousrout; but perhaps he did not think of it, and perhaps he preferredto seek his defence nowhere but in his good sword. At that moment, when his perplexity was at its height, he saw issue from the citygate two young beauties, whose air and dress proclaimed their rankand gentle nurture. Each of them was mounted on a unicorn, whosewhiteness surpassed that of ermine. They advanced to the meadowwhere Rogero was contending so valiantly against the hobgoblins, who all retired at their approach. They drew near, they extendedtheir hands to the young warrior, whose cheeks glowed with theflush of exercise and modesty. Grateful for their assistance, heexpressed his thanks, and, having no heart to refuse them, followed their guidance to the gate of the city. 

This grand and beautiful entrance was adorned by a portico of fourvast columns, all of diamond. Whether they were real diamond orartificial I cannot say. What matter is it, so long as theyappeared to the eye like diamond, and nothing could be more gayand splendid. 

On the threshold, and between the columns, was seen a bevy ofcharming young women, who played and frolicked together. They allran to receive Rogero, and conducted him into the palace, whichappeared like a paradise. 

We might well call by that name this abode, where the hours flewby, without account, in ever-new delights. The bare idea ofsatiety, want, and, above all, of age, never entered the minds ofthe inhabitants. They experienced no sensations except those ofluxury and gayety; the cup of happiness seemed for them ever-flowing and exhaustless. The two young damsels to whom Rogero owedhis deliverance from the hobgoblins conducted him to the apartmentof their mistress. The beautiful Alcina advanced, and greeted himwith an air at once dignified and courteous. All her courtsurrounded the paladin, and rendered him the most flatteringattentions. The castle was less admirable for its magnificencethan for the charms of those who inhabited it. They were of eithersex, well matched in beauty, youth, and grace; but among thischarming group the brilliant Alcina shone, as the sun outshinesthe stars. The young warrior was fascinated. All that he had heardfrom the myrtle-tree appeared to him but a vile calumny. How couldhe suspect that falsehood and treason veiled themselves undersmiles and the ingenuous air of truth? He doubted not thatAstolpho had deserved his fate, and perhaps a punishment moresevere; he regarded all his stories as dictated by a disappointedspirit, and a thirst for revenge. But we must not condemn Rogerotoo harshly, for he was the victim of magic power. 

They seated themselves at table, and immediately harmonious lyresand harps waked the air with the most ravishing notes. The charmsof poetry were added in entertaining recitals; the magnificence ofthe feast would have done credit to a royal board. The traitressforgot nothing which might charm the paladin, and attach him tothe spot, meaning, when she should grow tired of him, tometamorphose him as she had done others. In the same manner passedeach succeeding day. Games of pleasant exercise, the chase, thedance, or rural sports, made the hours pass quickly; while theygave zest to the refreshment of the bath, or sleep. 

Thus Rogero led a life of ease and luxury, while Charlemagne andAgramant were struggling for empire. But I cannot linger with himwhile the amiable and courageous Bradamante is night and daydirecting her uncertain steps to every spot where the slightestchance invites her, in the hope of recovering Rogero. 

I will therefore say that, having sought him in vain in fields andin cities, she knew not whither next to direct her steps. She didnot apprehend the death of Rogero. The fall of such a hero wouldhave reechoed from the Hydaspes to the farthest river of the West;but, not knowing whether he was on the earth or in the air, sheconcluded, as a last resource, to return to the cavern whichcontained the tomb of Merlin, to ask of him some sure direction tothe object of her search. 

While this thought occupied her mind, Melissa, the sageenchantress, suddenly appeared before her. This virtuous andbeneficent magician had discovered by her spells that Rogero waspassing his time in pleasure and idleness, forgetful of his honorand his sovereign. Not able to endure the thought that one who wasborn to be a hero should waste his years in base repose, and leavea sullied reputation in the memory of survivors, she saw thatvigorous measures must be employed to draw him forth into thepaths of virtue. Melissa was not blinded by her affection for theamiable paladin, like Atlantes, who, intent only on preservingRogero's life, cared nothing for his fame. It was that oldenchanter whose arts had guided the Hippogriff to the isle of thetoo charming Alcina, where he hoped his favorite would learn toforget honor, and lose the love of glory. 

At the sight of Melissa joy lighted up the countenance ofBradamante, and hope animated her breast. Melissa concealednothing from her, but told her how Rogero was in the toils ofAlcina. Bradamante was plunged in grief and terror; but the kindenchantress calmed her, dispelled her fears, and promised thatbefore many days she would lead back the paladin to her feet. 

"My daughter, " she said, "give me the ring which you wear, andwhich possesses the power to overcome enchantments. By means of itI doubt not but that I may enter the stronghold where the falseAlcina holds Rogero in durance, and may succeed in vanquishing herand liberating him. " Bradamante unhesitatingly delivered her thering, recommending Rogero to her best efforts. Melissa thensummoned by her art a huge palfrey, black as jet, excepting onefoot, which was bay. Mounted upon this animal, she rode with suchspeed that by the next morning she had reached the abode ofAlcina. 

She here transformed herself into the perfect resemblance of theold magician Atlantes, adding a palm-breadth to her height, andenlarging her whole figure. Her chin she covered with a longbeard, and seamed her whole visage well with wrinkles. She assumedalso his voice and manner, and watched her chance to find Rogeroalone. At last she found him, dressed in a rich tunic of silk andgold, a collar of precious stones about his neck, and his arms, once so rough with exercise, decorated with bracelets. His air andhis every motion indicated effeminacy, and he seemed to retainnothing of Rogero but the name; such power had the enchantressobtained over him. 

Melissa, under the form of his old instructor, presented herselfbefore him, wearing a stern and serious visage. "Is this, then, "she said, "the fruit of all my labors? Is it for this that I fedyou on the marrow of bears and lions, that I taught you to subduedragons, and, like Hercules, strangle serpents in your youthfulgrasp, only to make you, by all my cares, a feeble Adonis? Mynightly watchings of the stars, of the yet warm fibres of animals, the lots I have cast, the points of nativity that I havecalculated, have they all falsely indicated that you were born forgreatness? Who could have believed that you would become the slaveof a base enchantress? O Rogero, learn to know this Alcina, learnto understand her arts and to countervail them. Take this ring, place it on your finger, return to her presence, and see foryourself what are her real charms. "

At these words, Rogero, confused, abashed, cast his eyes upon theground, and knew not what to answer. Melissa seized the moment, slipped the ring on his finger, and the paladin was himself again. What a thunderclap to him! Overcome by shame, he dared not toencounter the looks of his instructor. When at last he raised hiseyes he beheld not that venerable form, but the priestess Melissa, who in virtue of the ring now appeared in her true person. Shetold him of the motives which had led her to come to his rescue, of the griefs and regrets of Bradamante, and of her unweariedsearch for him. "That charming Amazon, " she said, "sends you thisring, which is a sovereign antidote to all enchantments. She wouldhave sent you her heart in my hands, if it would have had greaterpower to serve you. "

It was needless for Melissa to say more. Rogero's love for Alcina, being but the work of enchantment, vanished as soon as theenchantment was withdrawn, and he now hated her with an equalintensity, seeing no longer anything in her but her vices, andfeeling only resentment for the shame that she had put upon him. 

His surprise when he again beheld Alcina was no less than hisindignation. Fortified by his ring from her enchantments, he sawher as she was, a monster of ugliness. All her charms wereartificial, and, truly viewed, were rather deformities. She was, in fact, older than Hecuba or the Sibyl of Cumae; but an art, which it is to be regretted our times have lost, enabled her toappear charming, and to clothe herself in all the attractions ofyouth. Rogero now saw all this, but, governed by the counsels ofMelissa, he concealed his surprise, assumed under some pretext hisarmor, long neglected, and bound to his side Belisarda, his trustysword, taking also the buckler of Atlantes, covered with its veil. 

He then selected a horse from the stables of Alcina, withoutexciting her suspicions; but he left the Hippogriff, by the adviceof Melissa, who promised to take him in charge, and train him to amore manageable state. The horse he took was Rabican, whichbelonged to Astolpho. He restored the ring to Melissa. 

Rogero had not ridden far when he met one of the huntsmen ofAlcina, bearing a falcon on his wrist, and followed by a dog. Thehuntsman was mounted on a powerful horse, and came boldly up tothe paladin, demanding, in a somewhat imperious manner, whither hewas going so rapidly. Rogero disdained to stop or to reply;whereupon the huntsman, not doubting that he was about making hisescape, said, "What if I, with my falcon, stop your ride?" Sosaying, he threw off the bird, which even Rabican could not equalin speed. The huntsman then leapt from his horse, and the animal, open-mouthed, darted after Rogero with the swiftness of an arrow. The huntsman also ran as if the wind or fire bore him, and the dogwas equal to Rabican in swiftness. Rogero, finding flightimpossible, stopped and faced his pursuers; but his sword wasuseless against such foes. The insolent huntsman assailed him withwords, and struck him with his whip, the only weapon he had; thedog bit his feet, and the horse drove at him with his hoofs. Atthe same time the falcon flew over his head and over Rabican's andattacked them with claws and wings, so that the horse in hisfright began to be unmanageable. At that moment the sound oftrumpets and cymbals was heard in the valley, and it was evidentthat Alcina had ordered out all her array to go in pursuit. Rogerofelt that there was no time to be lost, and luckily remembered theshield of Atlantes, which he bore suspended from his neck. Heunveiled it, and the charm worked wonderfully. The huntsman, thedog, the horse, fell flat; the trembling wings of the falcon couldno longer sustain her, and she fell senseless to the ground. Rogero, rid of their annoyances, left them in their trance, androde away. 

Meanwhile Alcina, with all the force she could muster, salliedforth from her palace in pursuit. Melissa, left behind, tookadvantage of the opportunity to ransack all the rooms, protectedby the ring. She undid one by one all the talismans and spellswhich she found, broke the seals, burned the images, and untiedthe hagknots. Thence, hurrying through the fields, shedisenchanted the victims changed into trees, fountains, stones, orbrutes; all of whom recovered their liberty, and vowed eternalgratitude to their deliverer. They made their escape, with allpossible despatch, to the realms of the good Logestilla, whencethey departed to their several homes. 

Astolpho was the first whom Melissa liberated, for Rogero hadparticularly recommended him to her care. She aided him to recoverhis arms, and particularly that precious golden-headed lance whichonce was Argalia's. The enchantress mounted with him upon thewinged horse, and in a short time arrived through the air at thecastle of Logestilla, where Rogero joined them soon after. 

In this abode the friends passed a short period of delightful andimproving intercourse with the sage Logestilla and her virtuouscourt; and then each departed, Rogero with the Hippogriff, ring, and buckler; Astolpho with his golden lance, and mounted onRabican, the fleetest of steeds. To Rogero Logestilla gave a bitand bridle suited to govern the Hippogriff; and to Astolpho a hornof marvellous powers, to be sounded only when all other weaponswere unavailing. 

THE ORC

We left the charming Angelica at the moment when, in her flightfrom her contending lovers, Sacripant and Rinaldo, she met an agedhermit. We have seen that her request to the hermit was to furnishher the means of gaining the sea-coast, eager to avoid Rinaldo, whom she hated, by leaving France and Europe itself. The pretendedhermit, who was no other than a vile magician, knowing well thatit would not be agreeable to his false gods to aid Angelica inthis undertaking, feigned to comply with her desire. He suppliedher a horse, into which he had by his arts caused a subtle devilto enter, and, having mounted Angelica on the animal, directed herwhat course to take to reach the sea. 

Angelica rode on her way without suspicion, but when arrived atthe shore, the demon urged the animal headlong into the water. Angelica in vain attempted to turn him back to the land; hecontinued his course till, as night approached, he landed with hisburden on a sandy headland. 

Angelica, finding herself alone, abandoned in this frightfulsolitude, remained without movement, as if stupefied, with handsjoined and eyes turned towards heaven, till at last, pouring fortha torrent of tears, she exclaimed: "Cruel fortune, have you notyet exhausted your rage against me? To what new miseries do youdoom me? Alas! then finish your work! Deliver me a prey to someferocious beast, or by whatever fate you choose bring me to anend. I will be thankful to you for terminating my life and mymisery. " At last, exhausted by her sorrows, she fell asleep, andsunk prostrate on the sand. 

Before recounting what next befell, we must declare what place itwas upon which the unhappy lady was now thrown. In the sea thatwashes the coast of Ireland there is an island called Ebuda, whoseinhabitants, once numerous, had been wasted by the anger ofProteus till there were now but few left. This deity was incensedby some neglect of the usual honors which he had in old timesreceived from the inhabitants of the land, and, to execute hisvengeance, had sent a horrid sea-monster, called an Orc, to devourthem. Such were the terrors of his ravages that the whole peopleof the isle had shut themselves up in the principal town, andrelied on their walls alone to protect them. In this distress theyapplied to the Oracle for advice, and were directed to appease thewrath of the sea-monster by offering to him the fairest virginthat the country could produce. 

Now it so happened that the very day when this dreadful oracle wasannounced, and when the fatal mandate had gone forth to seek amongthe fairest maidens of the land one to be offered to the monster, some sailors, landing on the beach where Angelica was, beheld thatbeauty as she lay asleep. 

O blind Chance! whose power in human affairs is but too great, canst thou then abandon to the teeth of a horrible monster thosecharms which different sovereigns took arms against one another topossess? Alas! the lovely Angelica is destined to be the victim ofthose cruel islanders. 

Still asleep, she was bound by the Ebudians, and it was not untilshe was carried on board the vessel that she came to a knowledgeof her situation. The wind filled the sails and wafted the shipswiftly to the port, where all that beheld her agreed that she wasunquestionably the victim selected by Proteus himself to be hisprey. Who can tell the screams, the mortal anguish of this unhappymaiden, the reproaches she addressed even to the heavensthemselves, when the dreadful information of her cruel fate wasmade known to her? I cannot; let me rather turn to a happier partof my story. 

Rogero left the palace of Logestilla, careering on his flyingcourser far above the tops of the mountains, and borne westward bythe Hippogriff, which he guided with ease, by means of the bridlethat Melissa had given him. Anxious as he was to recoverBradamante, he could not fail to be delighted at the view hisrapid flight presented of so many vast regions and populouscountries as he passed over in his career. At last he approachedthe shores of England, and perceived an immense army in all thesplendor of military pomp, as if about to go forth flushed withhopes of victory. He caused the Hippogriff to alight not far fromthe scene, and found himself immediately surrounded by admiringspectators, knights and soldiers, who could not enough indulgetheir curiosity and wonder. Rogero learned, in reply to hisquestions, that the fine array of troops before him was the armydestined to go to the aid of the French Emperor, in compliancewith the request presented by the illustrious Rinaldo, asambassador of King Charles, his uncle. 

By this time the curiosity of the English chevaliers was partlygratified in beholding the Hippogriff at rest, and Rogero, torenew their surprise and delight, remounted the animal, and, slapping spurs to his sides, made him launch into the air with therapidity of a meteor, and directed his flight still westwardly, till he came within sight of the coasts of Ireland. Here hedescried what seemed to be a fair damsel, alone, fast chained to arock which projected into the sea. What was his astonishment when, drawing nigh, he beheld the beautiful princess Angelica! That dayshe had been led forth and bound to the rock, there to wait tillthe sea-monster should come to devour her. Rogero exclaimed as hecame near, "What cruel hands, what barbarous soul, what fatalchance can have loaded thee with those chains?" Angelica repliedby a torrent of tears, at first her only response; then, in atrembling voice, she disclosed to him the horrible destiny forwhich she was there exposed. While she spoke, a terrible roaringwas heard far off on the sea. The huge monster soon came in sight, part of his body appearing above the waves and part concealed. Angelica, half dead with fear, abandoned herself to despair. 

Rogero, lance in rest, spurred his Hippogriff toward the Orc, andgave him a thrust. The horrible monster was like nothing thatnature produces. It was but one mass of tossing and twisting body, with nothing of the animal but head, eyes, and mouth, the lastfurnished with tusks like those of the wild boar. Rogero's lancehad struck him between the eyes; but rock and iron are not moreimpenetrable than were his scales. The knight, seeing thefruitlessness of the first blow, prepared to give a second. Theanimal, beholding upon the water the shadow of the great wings ofthe Hippogriff, abandoned his prey, and turned to seize whatseemed nearer. Rogero took the opportunity, and dealt him furiousblows on various parts of his body, taking care to keep clear ofhis murderous teeth; but the scales resisted every attack. The Orcbeat the water with his tail till he raised a foam which envelopedRogero and his steed, so that the knight hardly knew whether hewas in the water or the air. He began to fear that the wings ofthe Hippogriff would be so drenched with water that they wouldcease to sustain him. At that moment Rogero bethought him of themagic shield which hung at his saddle-bow; but the fear thatAngelica would also be blinded by its glare discouraged him fromemploying it. Then he remembered the ring which Melissa had givenhim, the power of which he had so lately proved. He hastened toAngelica and placed it on her finger. Then, uncovering thebuckler, he turned its bright disk full in the face of thedetestable Orc. The effect was instantaneous. The monster, deprived of sense and motion, rolled over on the sea, and layfloating on his back. Rogero would fain have tried the effect ofhis lance on the now exposed parts, but Angelica implored him tolose no time in delivering her from her chains before the monstershould revive. Rogero, moved with her entreaties, hastened to doso, and, having unbound her, made her mount behind him on theHippogriff. The animal, spurning the earth, shot up into the air, and rapidly sped his way through it. Rogero, to give time to theprincess to rest after her cruel agitations, soon sought the earthagain, alighting on the shore of Brittany. Near the shore a thickwood presented itself, which resounded with the songs of birds. Inthe midst, a fountain of transparent water bathed the turf of alittle meadow. A gentle hill rose near by. Rogero, making theHippogriff alight in the meadow, dismounted, and took Angelicafrom the horse. 

When the first tumults of emotion had subsided Angelica, castingher eyes downward, beheld the precious ring upon her finger, whosevirtues she was well acquainted with, for it was the very ringwhich the Saracen Brunello had robbed her of. She drew it from herfinger and placed it in her mouth, and, quicker than we can tellit, disappeared from the sight of the paladin. 

Rogero looked around him on all sides, like one frantic, but soonremembered the ring which he had so lately placed on her finger. Struck with the ingratitude which could thus recompense hisservices, he exclaimed: "Thankless beauty, is this then the rewardyou make me? Do you prefer to rob me of my ring rather thanreceive it as a gift? Willingly would I have given it to you, hadyou but asked it. " Thus he said, searching on all sides with armsextended like a blind man, hoping to recover by the touch what waslost to sight; but he sought in vain. The cruel beauty was alreadyfar away. 

Though sensible of her obligations to her deliverer, her firstnecessity was for clothing, food, and repose. She soon reached ashepherd's hut, where, entering unseen, she found what sufficedfor her present relief. An old herdsman inhabited the hut, whosecharges consisted of a drove of mares. When recruited by reposeAngelica selected one of the mares from the flock, and, mountingthe animal, felt the desire revive in her mind of returning to herhome in the East, and for that purpose would gladly have acceptedthe protection of Orlando or of Sacripant across those wideregions which divided her from her own country. In hopes ofmeeting with one or the other of them she pursued her way. 

Meanwhile Rogero, despairing of seeing Angelica again, returned tothe tree where he had left his winged horse, but had themortification to find that the animal had broken his bridle andescaped. This loss, added to his previous disappointment, overwhelmed him with vexation. Sadly he gathered up his arms, threw his buckler over his shoulders, and, taking the first paththat offered, soon found himself within the verge of a dense andwidespread forest. 

He had proceeded for some distance when he heard a noise on hisright, and, listening attentively, distinguished the clash ofarms. He made his way toward the place whence the sound proceeded, and found two warriors engaged in mortal combat. One of them was aknight of a noble and manly bearing, the other a fierce giant. Theknight appeared to exert consummate address in defending herselfagainst the massive club of the giant, evading his strokes, orparrying them with sword or shield. Rogero stood spectator of thecombat, for he did not allow himself to interfere in it, though asecret sentiment inclined him strongly to take part with theknight. At length he saw with grief the massive club fall directlyon the head of the knight, who yielded to the blow, and fellprostrate. The giant sprang forward to despatch him, and for thatpurpose unlaced his helmet, when Rogero, with dismay, recognizedthe face of Bradamante. He cried aloud, "Hold, miscreant!" andsprang forward with drawn sword. Whereupon the giant, as if hecared not to enter upon another combat, lifted Bradamante on hisshoulders, and ran with her into the forest. 

Rogero plunged after him, but the long legs of the giant carriedhim forward so fast that the paladin could hardly keep him insight. At length they issued from the wood, and Rogero perceivedbefore him a rich palace, built of marble, and adorned withsculptures executed by a master hand. Into this edifice, through agolden door, the giant passed, and Rogero followed; but, onlooking round, saw nowhere either the giant or Bradamante. He ranfrom room to room, calling aloud on his cowardly foe to turn andmeet him; but got no response, nor caught another glimpse of thegiant or his prey. In his vain pursuit he met, without knowingthem, Ferrau, Florismart, King Gradasso, Orlando, and many others, all of whom had been entrapped like himself into this enchantedcastle. It was a new stratagem of the magician Atlantes to drawRogero into his power, and to secure also those who might by anychance endanger his safety. What Rogero had taken for Bradamantewas a mere phantom. That charming lady was far away, full ofanxiety for her Rogero, whose coming she had long expected. 

The Emperor had committed to her charge the city and garrison ofMarseilles, and she held the post against the infidels with valorand discretion. One day Melissa suddenly presented herself beforeher. Anticipating her questions, she said, "Fear not for Rogero;he lives, and is as ever true to you; but he has lost his liberty. The fell enchanter has again succeeded in making him a prisoner. If you would deliver him, mount your horse and follow me. " Shetold her in what manner Atlantes had deceived Rogero, in deludinghis eyes with the phantom of herself in peril. "Such, " shecontinued, "will be his arts in your own case, if you penetratethe forest and approach that castle. You will think you beholdRogero, when, in fact, you see only the enchanter himself. Be notdeceived, plunge your sword into his body, and trust me when Itell you that, in slaying him, you will restore not only Rogero, but with him many of the bravest knights of France, whom thewizard's arts have withdrawn from the camp of their sovereign. "

Bradamante promptly armed herself, and mounted her horse. Melissaled her by forced journeys, by field and forest, beguiling the waywith conversation on the theme which interested her hearer most. When at last they reached the forest, she repeated once more herinstructions, and then took her leave, for fear the enchantermight espy her, and be put on his guard. 

Bradamante rode on about two miles when suddenly she beheldRogero, as it appeared to her, hard pressed by two fierce giants. While she hesitated she heard his voice calling on her for help. At once the cautions of Melissa lost their weight. A sudden doubtof the faith and truth of her kind monitress flashed across hermind. "Shall I not believe my own eyes and ears?" she said, andrushed forward to his defence. Rogero fled, pursued by the giants, and Bradamante followed, passing with them through the castlegate. When there, Bradamante was undeceived, for neither giant norknight was to be seen. She found herself a prisoner, but had notthe consolation of knowing that she shared the imprisonment of herbeloved. She saw various forms of men and women, but couldrecognize none of them; and their lot was the same with respect toher. Each viewed the others under some illusion of the fancy, wearing the semblance of giants, dwarfs, or even four-footedanimals, so that there was no companionship or communicationbetween them. 

ASTOLPHO'S ADVENTURES CONTINUED, AND ISABELLA'S BEGUN

When Astolpho escaped from the cruel Alcina, after a short abodein the realm of the virtuous Logestilla, he desired to return tohis native country. Logestilla lent him the best vessel of herfleet to convey him to the mainland. She gave him at parting awonderful book, which taught the secret of overcoming all mannersof enchantments, and begged him to carry it always with him, outof regard for her. She also gave him another gift, which surpassedeverything of the kind that mortal workmanship can frame; yet itwas nothing in appearance but a simple horn. 

Astolpho, protected by these gifts, thanked the good fairy, tookleave of her, and set out on his return to France. His voyage wasprosperous, and on reaching the desired port he took leave of thefaithful mariners, and continued his journey by land. As heproceeded over mountains and through valleys he often met withbands of robbers, wild beasts, and venomous serpents, but he hadonly to sound his horn to put them all to flight. 

Having landed in France, and traversed many provinces on his wayto the army, he one day, in crossing a forest, arrived beside afountain, and alighted to drink. While he stooped at the fountaina young rustic sprang from the copse, mounted Rabican, and rodeaway. It was a new trick of the enchanter Atlantes. Astolpho, hearing the noise, turned his head just in time to see his loss;and, starting up, pursued the thief, who, on his part, did notpress the horse to his full speed, but just kept in sight of hispursuer till they both issued from the forest; and then Rabicanand his rider took shelter in a castle which stood near. Astolphofollowed, and penetrated without difficulty within the court-yardof the castle, where he looked around for the rider and his horse, but could see no trace of either, nor any person of whom he couldmake inquiry. Suspecting that enchantment was employed toembarrass him, he bethought him of his book, and on consulting itdiscovered that his suspicions were well founded. He also learnedwhat course to pursue. He was directed to raise the stone whichserved as a threshold, under which a spirit lay pent, who wouldwillingly escape, and leave the castle free of access. Astolphoapplied his strength to lift aside the stone. Thereupon themagician put his arts in force. The castle was full of prisoners, and the magician caused that to all of them Astolpho should appearin some false guise--to some a wild beast, to others a giant, toothers a bird of prey. Thus all assailed him, and would quicklyhave made an end of him, if he had not bethought him of his horn. No sooner had he blown a blast than, at the horrid larum, fled thecavaliers and the necromancer with them, like a flock of pigeonsat the sound of the fowler's gun. Astolpho then renewed hisefforts on the stone, and turned it over. The under face was allinscribed with magical characters, which the knight defaced, asdirected by his book; and no sooner had he done so, than thecastle, with its walls and turrets, vanished into smoke. 

The knights and ladies set at liberty were, besides Rogero andBradamante, Orlando, Gradasso, Florismart, and many more. At thesound of the horn they fled, one and all, men and steeds, exceptRabican, which Astolpho secured, in spite of his terror. As soonas the sound had ceased Rogero recognized Bradamante, whom he haddaily met during their imprisonment, but had been prevented fromknowing by the enchanter's arts. No words can tell the delightwith which they recognized each other, and recounted mutually allthat had happened to each since they were parted. Rogero tookadvantage of the opportunity to press his suit, and foundBradamante as propitious as he could wish, were it not for asingle obstacle, the difference of their faiths. "If he wouldobtain her in marriage, " she said, "he must in due form demand herof her father, Duke Aymon, and must abandon his false prophet, andbecome a Christian. " The latter step was one which Rogero had forsome time intended taking, for reasons of his own. He thereforegladly accepted the terms, and proposed that they should at oncerepair to the abbey of Vallombrosa, whose towers were visible atno great distance. Thither they turned their horses' heads, and wewill leave them to find their way without our company. 

I know not if my readers recollect that at the moment when Rogerohad just delivered Angelica from the voracious Orc that scornfulbeauty placed her ring in her mouth, and vanished out of sight. Atthe same time the Hippogriff shook off his bridle, soared away, and flew to rejoin his former master, very naturally returning tohis accustomed stable. Here Astolpho found him, to his very greatdelight. He knew the animal's powers, having seen Rogero ride him, and he longed to fly abroad over all the earth, and see variousnations and peoples from his airy course. He had heardLogestilla's directions how to guide the animal, and saw her fit abridle to his head. He therefore was able, out of all the bridleshe found in the stable, to select one suitable, and, placingRabican's saddle on the Hippogriff's back, nothing seemed toprevent his immediate departure. Yet before he went he bethoughthim of placing Rabican in hands where he would be safe, and whencehe might recover him in time of need. While he stood deliberatingwhere he should find a messenger, he saw Bradamante approach. Thatfair warrior had been parted from Rogero on their way to the abbeyof Vallombrosa, by an inopportune adventure which had called theknight away. She was now returning to Montalban, having arrangedwith Rogero to join her there. To Bradamante, therefore, his faircousin, Astolpho committed Rabican, and also the lance of gold, which would only be an incumbrance in his aerial excursion. Bradamante took charge of both; and Astolpho, bidding herfarewell, soared in air. 

Among those delivered by Astolpho from the magician's castle wasOrlando. Following the guide of chance, the paladin found himselfat the close of day in a forest, and stopped at the foot of amountain. Surprised to discern a light which came from a cleft inthe rock, he approached, guided by the ray, and discovered anarrow passage in the mountain-side, which led into a deep grotto. 

Orlando fastened his horse, and then, putting aside the bushesthat resisted his passage, stepped down from rock to rock till hereached a sort of cavern. Entering it, he perceived a lady, youngand handsome, as well as he could discover through the signs ofdistress which agitated her countenance. Her only companion was anold woman, who seemed to be regarded by her young partner withterror and indignation. The courteous paladin saluted the womenrespectfully, and begged to know by whose barbarity they had beensubjected to such imprisonment. 

The younger lady replied, in a voice often broken with sobs:

"Though I know well that my recital will subject me to worsetreatment by the barbarous man who keeps me here, to whom thiswoman will not fail to report it, yet I will not hide from you thefacts. Ah! why should I fear his rage? If he should take my life, I know not what better boon than death I can ask. 

"My name is Isabella. I am the daughter of the king of Galicia, orrather I should say misfortune and grief are my parents. Young, rich, modest, and of tranquil temper, all things appeared tocombine to render my lot happy. Alas! I see myself to-day poor, humbled, miserable, and destined perhaps to yet furtherafflictions. It is a year since, my father having given noticethat he would open the lists for a tournament at Bayonne, a greatnumber of chevaliers from all quarters came together at our court. Among these Zerbino, son of the king of Scotland, victorious inall combats, eclipsed by his beauty and his valor all the rest. Before departing from the court of Galicia he testified the wishto espouse me, and I consented that he should demand my hand ofthe king, my father. But I was a Mahometan, and Zerbino aChristian, and my father refused his consent. The prince, calledhome by his father to take command of the forces destined to theassistance of the French Emperor, prevailed on me to be married tohim secretly, and to follow him to Scotland. He caused a galley tobe prepared to receive me, and placed in command of it thechevalier Oderic, a Biscayan, famous for his exploits both by landand sea. On the day appointed, Oderic brought his vessel to aseaside resort of my father's, where I embarked. Some of mydomestics accompanied me, and thus I departed from my native land. 

"Sailing with a fair wind, after some hours we were assailed by aviolent tempest. It was to no purpose that we took in all sail; wewere driven before the wind directly upon the rocky shore. Seeingno other hopes of safety, Oderic placed me in a boat, followedhimself with a few of his men, and made for land. We reached itthrough infinite peril, and I no sooner felt the firm land beneathmy feet, than I knelt down and poured out heartfelt thanks to theProvidence that had preserved me. 

"The shore where we landed appeared to be uninhabited. We saw nodwelling to shelter us, no road to lead us to a more hospitablespot. A high mountain rose before us, whose base stretched intothe sea. It was here the infamous Oderic, in spite of my tears andentreaties, sold me to a band of pirates, who fancied I might bean acceptable present to their prince, the Sultan of Morocco. Thiscavern is their den, and here they keep me under the guard of thiswoman, until it shall suit their convenience to carry me away. "

Isabella had hardly finished her recital when a troop of armed menbegan to enter the cavern. Seeing the prince Orlando, one said tothe rest, "What bird is this we have caught, without even settinga snare for him?" Then addressing Orlando, "It was truly civil inyou, friend, to come hither with that handsome coat of armor andvest, the very things I want. " "You shall pay for them, then, "said Orlando; and seizing a half-burnt brand from the fire, hehurled it at him, striking his head, and stretching him lifelesson the floor. 

There was a massy table in the middle of the cavern, used for thepirates' repasts. Orlando lifted it and hurled it at the robbersas they stood clustered in a group toward the entrance. Half thegang were laid prostrate, with broken heads and limbs; the restgot away as nimbly as they could. 

Leaving the den and its inmates to their fate, Orlando, takingIsabella under his protection, pursued his way for some days, without meeting with any adventure. 

One day they saw a band of men advancing, who seemed to beguarding a prisoner, bound hand and foot, as if being carried toexecution. The prisoner was a youthful cavalier, of a noble andingenuous appearance. The band bore the ensigns of Count Anselm, head of the treacherous house of Maganza. Orlando desired Isabellato wait, while he rode forward to inquire the meaning of thisarray. Approaching, he demanded of the leader who his prisonerwas, and of what crime he had been guilty. The man replied thatthe prisoner was a murderer, by whose hand Pinabel, the son ofCount Anselm, had been treacherously slain. At these words theprisoner exclaimed, "I am no murderer, nor have I been in any waythe cause of the young man's death. " Orlando, knowing the crueland ferocious character of the chiefs of the house of Maganza, needed no more to satisfy him that the youth was the victim ofinjustice. He commanded the leader of the troop to release hisvictim, and, receiving an insolent reply, dashed him to the earthwith a stroke of his lance; then by a few vigorous blows dispersedthe band, leaving deadly marks on those who were slowest to quitthe field. 

Orlando then hastened to unbind the prisoner, and to assist him toreclothe himself in his armor, which the false Magencian had daredto assume. He then led him to Isabella, who now approached thescene of action. How can we picture the joy, the astonishment, with which Isabella recognized in him Zerbino, her husband, andthe prince discovered her whom he had believed overwhelmed in thewaves! They embraced one another, and wept for joy. Orlando, sharing in their happiness, congratulated himself in having beenthe instrument of it. The princess recounted to Zerbino what theillustrious paladin had done for her, and the prince threw himselfat Orlando's feet, and thanked him as having twice preserved hislife. 

While these exchanges of congratulation and thankfulness weregoing on, a sound in the underwood attracted their attention, andcaused the two knights to brace their helmets and stand on theirguard. What the cause of the interruption was we shall record inanother chapter. 

MEDORO

France was at this time the theatre of dreadful events. TheSaracens and the Christians, in numerous encounters, slew oneanother. On one occasion Rinaldo led an attack on the infidelcolumns, broke and scattered them, till he found himself oppositeto a knight whose armor (whether by accident or by choice, itmatters not) bore the blazon of Orlando. It was Dardinel, theyoung and brave prince of Zumara, and Rinaldo remarked him by theslaughter he spread all around. "Ah, " said he to himself, "let uspluck up this dangerous plant before it has grown to its fullheight. "

As Rinaldo advanced, the crowd opened before him, the Christiansto let his sword have free course, the Pagans to escape its sweep. Dardinel and he stood face to face. Rinaldo exclaimed, fiercely, "Young man, whoever gave you that noble buckler to bear made you adangerous gift; I should like to see how you are able to defendthose quarterings, red and white. If you cannot defend themagainst me, how pray will you do so when Orlando challenges them?"Dardinel replied: "Thou shalt learn that I can defend the arms Ibear, and shed new glory upon them. No one shall rend them from mebut with life. " Saying these words, Dardinel rushed upon Rinaldowith sword uplifted. The chill of mortal terror filled the soulsof the Saracens when they beheld Rinaldo advance to attack theprince, like a lion against a young bull. The first blow came fromthe hand of Dardinel, and the weapon rebounded from Mambrino'shelmet without effect. Rinaldo smiled, and said, "I will now showyou if my strokes are more effectual. " At these words he thrustthe unfortunate Dardinel in the middle of his breast. The blow wasso violent that the cruel weapon pierced the body, and came out apalm-breadth behind his back. Through this wound the life ofDardinel issued with his blood, and his body fell helpless to theground. 

As a flower which the passing plough has uprooted languishes, anddroops its head, so Dardinel, his visage covered with the palenessof death, expires, and the hopes of an illustrious race perishwith him. 

Like waters kept back by a dike, which, when the dike is broken, spread abroad through all the country, so the Moors, no longerkept in column by the example of Dardinel, fled in all directions. Rinaldo despised too much such easy victories to pursue them; hewished for no combats but with brave men. At the same time, theother paladins made terrible slaughter of the Moors. Charleshimself, Oliver, Guido, and Ogier the Dane, carried death intotheir ranks on all sides. 

The infidels seemed doomed to perish to a man on that dreadfulday; but the wise king, Marsilius, at last put some slight degreeof method into the general rout. He collected the remnant of thetroops, formed them into a battalion, and retreated in tolerableorder to his camp. That camp was well fortified by intrenchmentsand a broad ditch. Thither the fugitives hastened, and by degreesall that remained of the Moorish army was brought together there. 

The Emperor might perhaps that night have crushed his enemyentirely; but not thinking it prudent to expose his troops, fatigued as they were, to an attack upon a camp so well fortified, he contented himself with encompassing the enemy with his troops, prepared to make a regular siege. During the night the Moors hadtime to see the extent of their loss. Their tents resounded withlamentations. This warrior had to mourn a brother, that a friend;many suffered with grievous wounds, all trembled at the fate instore for them. 

There were two young Moors, both of humble rank, who gave proof atthat time of attachment and fidelity rare in the history of man. Cloridan and Medoro had followed their prince, Dardinel, to thewars of France. Cloridan, a bold huntsman, combined strength withactivity. Medoro was a mere youth, his cheeks yet fair andblooming. Of all the Saracens, no one united so much grace andbeauty. His light hair was set off by his black and sparklingeyes. The two friends were together on guard at the rampart. Aboutmidnight they gazed on the scene in deep dejection. Medoro, withtears in his eyes, spoke of the good prince Dardinel, and couldnot endure the thought that his body should be cast out on theplain, deprived of funeral honors. "O my friend, " said he, "mustthen the body of our prince be the prey of wolves and ravens?Alas! when I remember how he loved me, I feel that if I shouldsacrifice my life to do him honor, I should not do more than myduty. I wish, dear friend, to seek out his body on thebattlefield, and give it burial, and I hope to be able to passthrough King Charles's camp without discovery, as they areprobably all asleep. You, Cloridan, will be able to say for me, ifI should die in the adventure, that gratitude and fidelity to myprince were my inducements. "

Cloridan was both surprised and touched with this proof of theyoung man's devotion. He loved him tenderly, and tried for a longtime every effort to dissuade him from his design; but he foundMedoro determined to accomplish his object or die in the endeavor. 

Cloridan, unable to change his purpose, said, "I will go with you, Medoro, and help you in this generous enterprise. I value not lifecompared with honor, and if I did, do you suppose, dear friend, that I could live without you? I would rather fall by the arms ofour enemies than die of grief for the loss of you. "

When the two friends were relieved from their guard duty they wentwithout any followers into the camp of the Christians. All therewas still; the fires were dying out; there was no fear of anyattempt on the part of the Saracens, and the soldiers, overcome byfatigue or wine, slept secure, lying upon the ground in the midstof their arms and equipage. Cloridan stopped, and said, "Medoro, Iam not going to quit this camp without taking vengeance for thedeath of our prince. Keep watch, be on your guard that no oneshall surprise us; I mean to mark a road with my sword through theranks of our enemies. " So saying, he entered the tent whereAlpheus slept, who a year before had joined the camp of Charles, and pretended to be a great physician and astrologer. But hisscience had deceived him, if it gave him hope of dying peacefullyin his bed at a good old age; his lot was to die with littlewarning. Cloridan ran his sword through his heart. A Greek and aGerman followed, who had been playing late at dice: fortunate ifthey had continued their game a little longer; but they neverreckoned a throw like this among their chances. Cloridan next cameto the unlucky Grillon, whose head lay softly on his pillow. Hedreamed probably of the feast from which he had but just retired;for when Cloridan cut off his head wine flowed forth with theblood. 

The two young Moors might have penetrated even to the tent ofCharlemagne; but knowing that the paladins encamped around himkept watch by turns, and judging that it was impossible theyshould all be asleep, they were afraid to go too near. They mightalso have obtained rich booty; but, intent only on their object, they crossed the camp, and arrived at length at the bloody field, where bucklers, lances, and swords lay scattered in the midst ofcorpses of poor and rich, common soldier and prince, horses andpools of blood. This terrible scene of carnage would havedestroyed all hope of finding what they were in search of untildawn of day, were it not that the moon lent the aid of heruncertain rays. 

Medoro raised his eyes to the planet, and exclaimed, "O holygoddess, whom our fathers have adored under three differentforms, --thou who displayest thy power in heaven, on earth, and inthe underworld, --thou who art seen foremost among the nymphschasing the beasts of the forest, --cause me to see, I implorethee, the spot where my dear master lies, and make me all my lifelong follow the example which thou dost exhibit of works ofcharity and love. "

Either by accident, or that the moon was sensible of the prayer ofMedoro, the cloud broke away, and the moonlight burst forth asbright as day. The rays seemed especially to gild the spot wherelay the body of Prince Dardinel; and Medoro, bathed in tears andwith bleeding heart, recognized him by the quarterings of red andwhite on his shield. 

With groans stifled by his tears, and lamentations in accentssuppressed, not from any fear for himself, for he cared not forlife, but lest any one should be roused to interrupt their piousduty while yet incomplete, he proposed to his companion that theyshould together bear Dardinel on their shoulders, sharing theburden of the beloved remains. 

Marching with rapid strides under their precious load, theyperceived that the stars began to grow pale, and that the shadesof night would soon be dispersed by the dawn. Just then Zerbino, whose extreme valor had urged him far from the camp in pursuit ofthe fugitives, returning, entered the wood in which they were. Some knights in his train perceived at a distance the twobrothers-in-arms. Cloridan saw the troop, and, observing that theydispersed themselves over the plain as if in search of booty, toldMedoro to lay down the body, and let each save himself by flight. He dropped his part, thinking that Medoro would do the same; butthe good youth loved his prince too well to abandon him, andcontinued to carry his load singly as well as he might, whileCloridan made his escape. Near by there was a part of the woodtufted as if nothing but wild animals had ever penetrated it. Theunfortunate youth, loaded with the weight of his dead master, plunged into its recesses. 

Cloridan, when he perceived that he had evaded his foes, discovered that Medoro was not with him. "Ah!" exclaimed he, "howcould I, dear Medoro, so forget myself as to consult my own safetywithout heeding yours?" So saying, he retraced the tangled passesof the wood toward the place from whence he had fled. As heapproached he heard the noise of horses, and the menacing voicesof armed men. Soon he perceived Medoro, on foot, with thecavaliers surrounding him. Zerbino, their commander, bade themseize him. The unhappy Medoro turned now this way, now that, trying to conceal himself behind an oak or a rock, still bearingthe body, which he would by no means leave. Cloridan not knowinghow to help him, but resolved to perish with him, if he mustperish, takes an arrow, fits it to his bow, discharges it, andpierces the breast of a Christian knight, who falls helpless fromhis horse. The others look this way and that, to discover whencethe fatal bolt was sped. One, while demanding of his comrades inwhat direction the arrow came, received a second in his throat, which stopped his words, and soon closed his eyes to the scene. 

Zerbino, furious at the death of his two comrades, ran uponMedoro, seized his golden hair, and dragged him forward to slayhim. But the sight of so much youth and beauty commanded pity. Hestayed his arm. The young man spoke in suppliant tones. "Ah!signor, " said he, "I conjure you by the God whom you serve, deprive me not of life until I shall have buried the body of theprince, my master. Fear not that I will ask you any other favor;life is not dear to me; I desire death as soon as I shall haveperformed this sacred duty. Do with me then as you please. Give mylimbs a prey to the birds and beasts; only let me first bury myprince. " Medoro pronounced these words with an air so sweet andtender that a heart of stone would have been moved by them. Zerbino was so to the bottom of his soul. He was on the point ofuttering words of mercy, when a cruel subaltern, forgetting allrespect to his commander, plunged his lance into the breast of theyoung Moor. Zerbino, enraged at his brutality, turned upon thewretch to take vengeance, but he saved himself by a precipitateflight. 

Cloridan, who saw Medoro fall, could contain himself no longer. Herushed from his concealment, threw down his bow, and, sword inhand, seemed only desirous of vengeance for Medoro, and to diewith him. In a moment, pierced through and through with manywounds, he exerts the last remnant of his strength in dragginghimself to Medoro, to die embracing him. The cavaliers left themthus to rejoin Zerbino, whose rage against the murderer of Medorohad drawn him away from the spot. 

Cloridan died; and Medoro, bleeding copiously, was drawing nearhis end when help arrived. 

A young maiden approached the fallen knights at this criticalmoment. Her dress was that of a peasant-girl, but her air wasnoble, and her beauty celestial; sweetness and goodness reigned inher lovely countenance. It was no other than Angelica, thePrincess of Cathay. 

When she had recovered that precious ring, as we have beforerelated, Angelica, knowing its value, felt proud in the power itconferred, travelled alone without fear, not without a secretshame that she had ever been obliged to seek protection in herwanderings of the Count Orlando and of Sacripant. She reproachedherself too as with a weakness that she had ever thought ofmarrying Rinaldo; in fine, her pride grew so high as to persuadeher that no man living was worthy to aspire to her hand. 

Moved with pity at the sight of the young man wounded, and meltedto tears at hearing the cause, she quickly recalled to remembrancethe knowledge she had acquired in India, where the virtues ofplants and the art of healing formed part of the education even ofprincesses. The beautiful queen ran into the adjoining meadow togather plants of virtue to staunch the flow of blood. Meeting onher way a countryman on horseback seeking a strayed heifer, shebegged him to come to her assistance, and endeavor to remove thewounded man to a more secure asylum. 

Angelica, having prepared the plants by bruising them between twostones, laid them with her fair hand on Medoro's wound. The remedysoon restored in some degree the strength of the wounded man, who, before he would quit the spot, made them cover with earth and turfthe bodies of his friend and of the prince. Then surrenderinghimself to the pity of his deliverers, he allowed them to placehim on the horse of the shepherd, and conduct him to his cottage. It was a pleasant farmhouse on the borders of the wood, bearingmarks of comfort and competency. There the shepherd lived with hiswife and children. There Angelica tended Medoro, and there, by thedevoted care of the beautiful queen, his sad wound closed over, and he recovered his perfect health. 

O Count Rinaldo, O King Sacripant! what availed it you to possessso many virtues and such fame? What advantage have you derivedfrom all your high deserts? O hapless king, great Agrican! if youcould return to life, how would you endure to see yourselfrejected by one who will bow to the yoke of Hymen in favor of ayoung soldier of humble birth? And thou, Ferrau, and ye numerousothers who a hundred times have put your lives at hazard for thiscruel beauty, how bitter will it be to you to see her sacrificeyou all to the claims of the humble Medoro!

There, under the low roof of a shepherd, the flame of Hymen waslighted for this haughty queen. She takes the shepherd's wife toserve in place of mother, the shepherd and his children forwitnesses, and marries the happy Medoro. 

Angelica, after her marriage, wishing to endow Medoro with thesovereignty of the countries which yet remained to her, took withhim the road to the East. She had preserved through all heradventures a bracelet of gold enriched with precious stones, thepresent of the Count Orlando. Having nothing else wherewith toreward the good shepherd and his wife, who had served her with somuch care and fidelity, she took the bracelet from her arm andgave it to them, and then the newly-married couple directed theirsteps toward those mountains which separate France and Spain, intending to wait at Barcelona a vessel which should take them ontheir way to the East. 

ORLANDO MAD

Orlando, on the loss of Angelica, laid aside his crest and arms, and arrayed himself in a suit of black armor expressive of hisdespair. In this guise he carried such slaughter among the ranksof the infidels that both armies were astonished at theachievements of the stranger knight. Mandricardo, who had beenabsent from the battle, heard the report of these achievements anddetermined to test for himself the valor of the knight soextolled. He it was who broke in upon the conference of Zerbinoand Isabella, and their benefactor Orlando, as they stood occupiedin mutual felicitations, after the happy reunion of the lovers bythe prowess of the paladin. 

Mandricardo, after contemplating the group for a moment, addressedhimself to Orlando in these words: "Thou must be the man I seek. For ten days and more I have been on thy track. The fame of thyexploits has brought me hither, that I may measure my strengthwith thine. Thy crest and shield prove thee the same who spreadsuch slaughter among our troops. But these marks are superfluous, and if I saw thee among a hundred I should know thee by thymartial bearing to be the man I seek. "

"I respect thy courage, " said Orlando; "such a design could nothave sprung up in any but a brave and generous soul. If the desireto see me has brought thee hither, I would, if it were possible, show thee my inmost soul. I will remove my visor, that you maysatisfy your curiosity; but when you have done so I hope that youwill also try and see if my valor corresponds to my appearance. ""Come on, " said the Saracen, "my first wish was to see and knowthee; I will not gratify my second. "

Orlando, observing Mandricardo was surprised to see no sword athis side, nor mace at his saddle-bow. "And what weapon hast thou, "said he, "if thy lance fail thee?"

"Do not concern yourself about that, " said Mandricardo; "I havemade many good knights give ground with no other weapon than yousee. Know that I have sworn an oath never to bear a sword until Iwin back that famous Durindana that Orlando, the paladin, carries. That sword belongs to the suit of armor which I wear; that only iswanting. Without doubt it was stolen, but how it got into thehands of Orlando I know not. But I will make him pay dearly for itwhen I find him I seek him the more anxiously that I may avengewith his blood the death of King Agrican, my father, whom hetreacherously slew. I am sure he must have done it by treachery, for it was not in his power to subdue in fair fight such a warrioras my father. "

"Thou liest, " cried Orlando; "and all who say so lie. I amOrlando, whom you seek; yes, I am he who slew your fatherhonorably. Hold, here is the sword: you shall have it if yourcourage avails to merit it. Though it belongs to me by right, Iwill not use it in this dispute. See, I hang it on this tree; youshall be master of it, if you bereave me of life; not else. "

At these words Orlando drew Durindana, and hung it on one of thebranches of a tree near by. 

Both knights, boiling with equal ardor, rode off in a semicircle;then rushed together with reins thrown loose, and struck oneanother with their lances. Both kept their seats, immovable. Thesplinters of their lances flew into the air, and no weaponremained for either but the fragment which he held in his hand. Then those two knights, covered with iron mail, were reduced tothe necessity of fighting with staves, in the manner of tworustics, who dispute the boundary of a meadow, or the possessionof a spring. 

These clubs could not long keep whole in the hands of such sturdysmiters, who were soon reduced to fight with naked fists. Suchwarfare was more painful to him that gave than to him thatreceived the blows. They next clasped, and strained each hisadversary, as Hercules did Antaeus. Mandricardo, more enraged thanOrlando, made violent efforts to unseat the paladin, and droppedthe rein of his horse. Orlando, more calm, perceived it. With onehand he resisted Mandricardo, with the other he twitched thehorse's bridle over the ears of the animal. The Saracen draggedOrlando with all his might, but Orlando's thighs held the saddlelike a vise. At last the efforts of the Saracen broke the girthsof Orlando's horse; the saddle slipped; the knight, firm in hisstirrups, slipped with it, and came to the ground hardly consciousof his fall. The noise of his armor in falling startledMandricardo's horse, now without a bridle. He started off in fullcareer, heeding neither trees nor rocks nor broken ground. Urgedby fright, he ran with furious speed, carrying his master, who, almost distracted with rage, shouted and beat the animal with hisfists, and thereby impelled his flight. After running thus threemiles or more, a deep ditch opposed their progress. The horse andrider fell headlong into it, and did not find the bottom coveredwith feather-beds or roses. They got sadly bruised; but were luckyenough to escape without any broken limbs. 

Mandricardo, as soon as he gained his feet, seized the horse byhis mane with fury; but, having no bridle, could not hold him. Helooked round in hopes of finding something that would do for arein. Just then fortune, who seemed willing to help him at last, brought that way a peasant with a bridle in his hand, who was insearch of his farm horse that had strayed away. 

Orlando, having speedily repaired his horse's girths, remounted, and waited a good hour for the Saracen to return. Not seeing him, he concluded to go in search of him. He took an affectionate leaveof Zerbino and Isabella, who would willingly have followed him;but this the brave paladin would by no means permit. He held itunknightly to go in search of an enemy accompanied by a friend, who might act as a defender. Therefore, desiring them to say toMandricardo, if they should meet him, that his purpose was totarry in the neighborhood three days, and then repair to the campof Charlemagne, he took down Durindana from the tree, andproceeded in the direction which the Saracen's horse had taken. But the animal, having no guide but its terror, had so doubled andconfused its traces that Orlando, after two days spent in thesearch, gave up the attempt. 

It was about the middle of the third day when the paladin arrivedon the pleasant bank of a stream which wound through a meadowenamelled with flowers. High trees, whose tops met and formed anarbor, over-shadowed the fountain; and the breeze which blewthrough their foliage tempered the heat. Hither the shepherds usedto resort to quench their thirst, and to enjoy the shelter fromthe midday sun. The air, perfumed with the flowers, seemed tobreathe fresh strength into their veins. Orlando felt theinfluence, though covered with his armor. He stopped in thisdelicious arbor, where everything seemed to invite to repose. Buthe could not have chosen a more fatal asylum. He there spent themost miserable moments of his life. 

He looked around, and noted with pleasure all the charms of thespot. He saw that some of the trees were carved with inscriptions--he drew near, and read them, and what was his surprise to findthat they composed the name of Angelica! Farther on he found thename of Medoro mixed with hers. The paladin thought he dreamed. Hestood like one amazed--like a bird that, rising to fly, finds itsfeet caught in a net. 

Orlando followed the course of the stream, and came to one of itsturns where the rocks of the mountain bent in such a way as toform a sort of grotto. The twisted stems of ivy and the wild vinedraped the entrance of this recess, scooped by the hand of nature. 

The unhappy paladin, on entering the grotto, saw letters whichappeared to have been lately carved. They were verses which Medorohad written in honor of his happy nuptials with the beautifulqueen. Orlando tried to persuade himself it must be some otherAngelica whom those verses celebrated, and as for Medoro, he hadnever heard his name. The sun was now declining, and Orlandoremounted his horse, and went on his way. He soon saw the roof ofa cottage whence the smoke ascended; he heard the barking of dogsand the lowing of cattle, and arrived at a humble dwelling whichseemed to offer an asylum for the night. The inmates, as soon asthey saw him, hastened to tender him service. One took his horse, another his shield and cuirass, another his golden spurs. Thiscottage was the very same where Medoro had been carried, deeplywounded, --where Angelica had tended him, and afterwards marriedhim. The shepherd who lived in it loved to tell everybody thestory of this marriage, and soon related it, with all its details, to the miserable Orlando. 

Having finished it, he went away, and returned with the preciousbracelet which Angelica, grateful for his services, had given himas a memorial. It was the one which Orlando had himself given her. 

This last touch was the finishing stroke to the excited paladin. Frantic, exasperated, he exclaimed against the ungrateful andcruel princess who had disdained him, the most renowned, the mostindomitable of all the paladins of France, --him, who had rescuedher from the most alarming perils, --him, who had fought the mostterrible battles for her sake, --she to prefer to him a youngSaracen! The pride of the noble Count was deeply wounded. Indignant, frantic, a victim to ungovernable rage, he rushed intothe forest, uttering the most frightful shrieks. 

"No, no!" cried he, "I am not the man they take me for! Orlando isdead! I am only the wandering ghost of that unhappy Count, who isnow suffering the torments of hell!"

Orlando wandered all night, as chance directed, through the wood, and at sunrise his destiny led him to the fountain where Medorohad engraved the fatal inscription. The frantic paladin saw it asecond time with fury, drew his sword, and hacked it from therock. 

Unlucky grotto! you shall no more attract by your shade andcoolness, you shall no more shelter with your arch either shepherdor flock. And you, fresh and pure fountain, you may not escape therage of the furious Orlando! He cast into the fountain branches, trunks of trees which he tore up, pieces of rocks which he brokeoff, plants uprooted, with the earth adhering, and turf andbrushes, so as to choke the fountain, and destroy the purity ofits waters. At length, exhausted by his violent exertions, bathedin sweat, breathless, Orlando sunk panting upon the earth, and laythere insensible three days and three nights. 

The fourth day he started up and seized his arms. His helmet, hisbuckler, he cast far from him; his hauberk and his clothes he rentasunder; the fragments were scattered through the wood. In fine, he became a furious madman. His insanity was such that he carednot to retain even his sword. But he had no need of Durindana, norof other arms, to do wonderful things. His prodigious strengthsufficed. At the first wrench of his mighty arm he tore up a pine-tree by the roots. Oaks, beeches, maples, whatever he met in hispath, yielded in like manner. The ancient forest soon became asbare as the borders of a morass, where the fowler has cleared awaythe bushes to spread his nets. The shepherds, hearing the horriblecrashing in the forest, abandoned their flocks to run and see thecause of this unwonted uproar. By their evil star, or for theirsins, they were led thither. When they saw the furious state theCount was in, and his incredible force, they would fain have fledout of his reach, but in their fears lost their presence of mind. The madman pursued them, seized one and rent him limb from limb, as easily as one would pull ripe apples from a tree. He tookanother by the feet, and used him as a club to knock down a third. The shepherds fled; but it would have been hard for any to escape, if he had not at that moment left them to throw himself with thesame fury upon their flocks. The peasants, abandoning theirploughs and harrows, mounted on the roofs of buildings andpinnacles of the rocks, afraid to trust themselves even to theoaks and pines. From such heights they looked on, trembling at theraging fury of the unhappy Orlando. His fists, his teeth, hisnails, his feet, seize, break, and tear cattle, sheep, and swine;the most swift in flight alone being able to escape him. 

When at last terror had scattered everything before him, heentered a cottage which was abandoned by its inhabitants, andthere found that which served for food. His long fast had causedhim to feel the most ravenous hunger. Seizing whatever he foundthat was eatable, whether roots, acorns, or bread, raw meat orcooked, he gorged it indiscriminately. 

Issuing thence again, the frantic Orlando gave chase to whateverliving thing he saw, whether men or animals. Sometimes he pursuedthe deer and hind, sometimes he attacked bears and wolves, andwith his naked hands killed and tore them, and devoured theirflesh. 

Thus he wandered, from place to place, through France, imperillinghis life a thousand ways, yet always preserved by some mysteriousprovidence from a fatal result. But here we leave Orlando for atime, that we may record what befell Zerbino and Isabella aftertheir parting with him. 

The prince and his fair bride waited, by Orlando's request, nearthe scene of the battle for three days, that, if Mandricardoshould return, they might inform him where Orlando would give himanother meeting. At the end of that time their anxiety to know theissue led them to follow Orlando's traces, which led them at lastto the wood where the trees were inscribed with the names ofAngelica and Medoro. They remarked how all these inscriptions weredefaced, and how the grotto was disordered, and the fountainclogged with rubbish. But that which surprised them and distressedthem most of all was to find on the grass the cuirass of Orlando, and not far from it his helmet, the same which the renownedAlmontes once wore. 

Hearing a horse neigh in the forest, Zerbino turned his eyes inthat direction, and saw Brigliadoro, with the bridle yet hangingat the saddle-bow. He looked round for Durindana, and found thatfamous sword, without the scabbard, lying on the grass. He sawalso the fragments of Orlando's other arms and clothing scatteredon all sides over the plain. 

Zerbino and Isabella stood in astonishment and grief, not knowingwhat to think, but little imagining the true cause. If they hadfound any marks of blood on the arms or on the fragments of theclothing, they would have supposed him slain, but there were none. While they were in this painful uncertainty they saw a youngpeasant approach. He, not yet recovered from the terror of thescene, which he had witnessed from the top of a rock, told themthe whole of the sad events. 

Zerbino, with his eyes full of tears, carefully collected all thescattered arms. Isabella also dismounted to aid him in the sadduty. When they had collected all the pieces of that rich armorthey hung them like a trophy on a pine; and to prevent their beingviolated by any passers-by, Zerbino inscribed on the bark thiscaution: "These are the arms of the Paladin Orlando. "

Having finished this pious work, he remounted his horse, and justthen a knight rode up, and requested Zerbino to tell him themeaning of the trophy. The prince related the facts as they hadhappened; and Mandricardo, for it was that Saracen knight, full ofjoy, rushed forward, and seized the sword, saying, "No one cancensure me for what I do; this sword is mine; I can take my ownwherever I find it. It is plain that Orlando, not daring to defendit against me, has counterfeited madness to excuse him insurrendering it. "

Zerbino vehemently exclaimed, "Touch not that sword. Think not topossess it without a contest. If it be true that the arms you wearare those of Hector, you must have got them by theft, and not byprowess. "

Immediately they attacked one another with the utmost fury. Theair resounded with thick-falling blows. Zerbino, skilful andalert, evaded for a time with good success the strokes ofDurindana; but at length a terrible blow struck him on the neck. He fell from his horse, and the Tartar king, possessed of thespoils of his victory, rode away. 

ZERBINO AND ISABELLA

Zerbino's pain at seeing the Tartar prince go off with the swordsurpassed the anguish of his wound; but now the loss of blood soreduced his strength that he could not move from where he fell. Isabella, not knowing whither to resort for help, could onlybemoan him, and chide her cruel fate. Zerbino said, "If I couldbut leave thee, my best beloved, in some secure abode, it wouldnot distress me to die; but to abandon thee so, withoutprotection, is sad indeed. " She replied, "Think not to leave me, dearest; our souls shall not be parted; this sword will give methe means to follow thee. " Zerbino's last words implored her tobanish such a thought, but live, and be true to his memory. Isabella promised, with many tears, to be faithful to him so longas life should last. 

When he ceased to breathe, Isabella's cries resounded through theforest, and reached the ears of a reverend hermit, who hastened tothe spot. He soothed and calmed her, urging those consolationswhich the word of God supplies; and at last brought her to wishfor nothing else but to devote herself for the rest of life whollyto religion. 

As she could not bear the thoughts of leaving her dead lordabandoned, the body was, by the good hermit's aid, placed upon thehorse, and taken to the nearest inhabited place, where a chest wasmade for it, suitable to be carried with them on their way. Thehermit's plan was to escort his charge to a monastery, not manydays' journey distant, where Isabella resolved to spend theremainder of her days. Thus they travelled day after day, choosingthe most retired ways, for the country was full of armed men. Oneday a cavalier met them, and barred their way. It was no otherthan Rodomont, king of Algiers, who had just left the camp ofAgramant, full of indignation at the treatment he had receivedfrom Doralice. At sight of the lovely lady and her reverendattendant, with their horse laden with a burden draped with black, he asked the meaning of their journey. Isabella told him heraffliction, and her resolution to renounce the world and devoteherself to religion, and to the memory of the friend she had lost. Rodomont laughed scornfully at this, and told her that her projectwas absurd; that charms like hers were meant to be enjoyed, notburied, and that he himself would more than make amends for herdead lover. The monk, who promptly interposed to rebuke thisimpious talk, was commanded to hold his peace; and stillpersisting was seized by the knight and hurled over the edge ofthe cliff, where he fell into the sea, and was drowned. 

Rodomont, when he had got rid of the hermit, again applied to thesad lady, heartless with affright, and, in the language used bylovers, said, "she was his very heart, his life, his light. "Having laid aside all violence, he humbly sued that she wouldaccompany him to his retreat, near by. It was a ruined chapel fromwhich the monks had been driven by the disorders of the time, andwhich Rodomont had taken possession of. Isabella, who had nochoice but to obey, followed him, meditating as she went whatresource she could find to escape out of his power, and keep hervow to her dead husband, to be faithful to his memory as long aslife should last. At length she said, "If, my lord, you will letme go and fulfil my vow, and my intention, as I have alreadydeclared it, I will bestow upon you what will be to you of morevalue than a hundred women's hearts. I know an herb, and I haveseen it on our way, which, rightly prepared, affords a juice ofsuch power, that the flesh, if laved with it, becomes impenetrableto sword or fire. This liquor I can make, and will, to-day, if youwill accept my offer; and when you have seen its virtue you willvalue it more than if all Europe were made your own. "

Rodomont, at hearing this, readily promised all that was asked, soeager was he to learn a secret that would make him as Achilles wasof yore. Isabella, having collected such herbs as she thoughtproper, and boiled them, with certain mysterious signs and words, at length declared her labor done, and, as a test, offered to tryits virtue on herself. She bathed her neck and bosom with theliquor, and then called on Rodomont to smite with all his force, and see whether his sword had power to harm. The pagan, who duringthe preparations had taken frequent draughts of wine, and scarceknew what he did, drew his sword at the word, and struck acrossher neck with all his might, and the fair head leapt sundered fromthe snowy neck and breast. 

Rude and unfeeling as he was, the pagan knight lamented bitterlythis sad result. To honor her memory he resolved to do a work asunparalleled as her devotion. From all parts round he causedlaborers to be brought, and had a tower built to enclose thechapel, within which the remains of Zerbino and Isabella wereentombed. Across the stream which flowed near by he built abridge, scarce two yards wide, and added neither parapet nor rail. On the top of the tower a sentry was placed, who, when anytraveller approached the bridge, gave notice to his master. Rodomont thereupon sallied out, and defied the approaching knightto fight him upon the bridge, where any chance step a little asidewould plunge the rider headlong in the stream. This bridge hevowed to keep until a thousand suits of armor should be won fromconquered knights, wherewith to build a trophy to his victim andher lord. 

Within ten days the bridge was built, and the tower was inprogress. In a short time many knights, either seeking theshortest route, or tempted by a desire of adventure, had made theattempt to pass the bridge. All, without exception, had losteither arms or life, or both; some falling before Rodomont'slance, others precipitated into the river. One day, as Rodomontstood urging his workmen, it chanced that Orlando in his furiousmood came thither, and approached the bridge. Rodomont halloed tohim, "Halt, churl; presume not to set foot upon that bridge; itwas not made for such as you!" Orlando took no notice, but pressedon. Just then a gentle damsel rode up. It was Flordelis, who wasseeking her Florismart. She saw Orlando, and, in spite of hisstrange appearance, recognized him. Rodomont, not used to have hiscommands disobeyed, laid hands on the madman, and would havethrown him into the river, but to his astonishment found himselfin the gripe of one not so easily disposed of. "How can a foolhave such strength?" he growled between his teeth. Flordelisstopped to see the issue, where each of these two puissantwarriors strove to throw the other from the bridge. Orlando atlast had strength enough to lift his foe with all his armor, andfling him over the side, but had not wit to clear himself fromhim, so both fell together. High flashed the wave as they togethersmote its surface. Here Orlando had the advantage; he was naked, and could swim like a fish. He soon reached the bank, and, careless of praise or blame, stopped not to see what came of theadventure. Rodomont, entangled with his armor, escaped withdifficulty to the bank. Meantime, Flordelis passed the bridgeunchallenged. 

After long wandering without success she returned to Paris, andthere found the object of her search; for Florismart, after thefall of Albracca, had repaired thither. The joy of meeting wasclouded to Florismart by the news which Flordelis brought ofOrlando's wretched plight. The last she had seen of him was whenhe fell with Rodomont into the stream. Florismart, who lovedOrlando like a brother, resolved to set out immediately, under theguidance of the lady, to find him, and bring him where he mightreceive the treatment suited to his case. A few days brought themto the place where they found the Tartar king still guarding thebridge. The usual challenge and defiance was made, and the knightsrode to encounter one another on the bridge. At the firstencounter both horses were overthrown; and, having no space toregain their footing, fell with their riders into the water. Rodomont, who knew the soundings of the stream, soon recovered theland; but Florismart was carried downward by the current, andlanded at last on a bank of mud where his horse could hardly findfooting. Flordelis, who watched the battle from the bridge, seeingher lover in this piteous case, exclaimed aloud, "Ah! Rodomont, for love of her whom dead you honor, have pity on me, who lovethis knight, and slay him not. Let it suffice he yields his armorto the pile, and none more glorious will it bear than his. " Herprayer, so well directed, touched the pagan's heart, though hardto move, and he lent his aid to help the knight to land. He kepthim a prisoner, however, and added his armor to the pile. Flordelis, with a heavy heart, went her way. 

We must now return to Rogero, who, when we parted with him, wasengaged in an adventure which arrested his progress to themonastery whither he was bound with the intention of receivingbaptism, and thus qualifying himself to demand Bradamante as hisbride. On his way he met with Mandricardo, and the quarrel wasrevived respecting the right to wear the badge of Hector. After awarm discussion both parties agreed to submit the question to KingAgramant, and for that purpose took their way to the Saracen camp. Here they met Gradasso, who had his controversy also withMandricardo. This warrior claimed the sword of Orlando, denyingthe right of Mandricardo to possess it in virtue of his havingfound it abandoned by its owner. King Agramant strove in vain toreconcile these quarrels, and was forced at last to consent thatthe points in dispute should be settled by one combat, in whichMandricardo should meet one of the other champions, to whom shouldbe committed the cause of both. Rogero was chosen by lot tomaintain Gradasso's cause and his own. Great preparations weremade for this signal contest. On the appointed day it was foughtin the presence of Agramant, and of the whole army. Rogero won it;and Mandricardo, the conqueror of Hector's arms, the challenger ofOrlando, and the slayer of Zerbino, lost his life. Gradassoreceived Durindana as his prize, which lost half its value in hiseyes, since it was won by another's prowess, not his own. 

Rogero, though victorious, was severely wounded, and lay helplessmany weeks in the camp of Agramant, while Bradamante, ignorant ofthe cause of his delay, expected him at Montalban. Thither he hadpromised to repair in fifteen days, or twenty at furthest, hopingto have obtained by that time an honorable discharge from hisobligations to the Saracen commander. The twenty days were passed, and a month more, and still Rogero came not, nor did any tidingsreach Bradamante accounting for his absence. At the end of thattime, a wandering knight brought news of the famous combat, and ofRogero's wound. He added, what alarmed Bradamante still more, thatMarphisa, a female warrior, young and fair, was in attendance onthe wounded knight. He added that the whole army expected that, assoon as Rogero's wounds were healed, the pair would be united inmarriage. 

Bradamante, distressed by this news, though she believed it but inpart, resolved to go immediately and see for herself. She mountedRabican, the horse of Astolpho, which he had committed to hercare, and took with her the lance of gold, though unaware of itswonderful powers. Thus accoutred, she left the castle, and tookthe road toward Paris and the camp of the Saracens. 

Marphisa, whose devotion to Rogero in his illness had so excitedthe jealousy of Bradamante, was the twin sister of Rogero. She, with him, had been taken in charge when an infant by Atlantes, themagician, but while yet a child she had been stolen away by anArab tribe. Adopted by their chief, she had early learnedhorsemanship and skill in arms, and at this time had come to thecamp of Agramant with no other view than to see and test forherself the prowess of the warriors of either camp, whose famerang through the world. Arriving at the very moment of the lateencounter, the name of Rogero, and some few facts of his storywhich she learned, were enough to suggest the idea that it was herbrother whom she saw victorious in the single combat. Inquirysatisfied the two of their near kindred, and from that momentMarphisa devoted herself to the care of her new-found and much-loved brother. 

In those moments of seclusion Rogero informed his sister of whathe had learned of their parentage from old Atlantes. Rogero, theirfather, a Christian knight, had won the heart of Galaciella, daughter of the Sultan of Africa, and sister of King Agramant, converted her to the Christian faith, and secretly married her. The Sultan, enraged at his daughter's marriage, drove her husbandinto exile, and caused her with her infant children, Rogero andMarphisa, to be placed in a boat and committed to the winds andwaves, to perish; from which fate they were saved by Atlantes. Onhearing this, Marphisa exclaimed, "How can you, brother, leave ourparents unavenged so long, and even submit to serve the son of thetyrant who so wronged them?" Rogero replied that it was but latelyhe had learned the full truth; that when he learned it he wasalready embarked with Agramant, from whom he had receivedknighthood, and that he only waited for a suitable opportunitywhen he might with honor desert his standard, and at the same timereturn to the faith of his fathers. Marphisa hailed thisresolution with joy, and declared her intention to join with himin embracing the Christian faith. 

We left Bradamante when, mounted on Rabican and armed withAstolpho's lance, she rode forth, determined to learn the cause ofRogero's long absence. One day, as she rode, she met a damsel, ofvisage and of manners fair, but overcome with grief. It wasFlordelis, who was seeking far and near a champion capable ofliberating and avenging her lord. Flordelis marked the approachingwarrior, and, judging from appearances, thought she had found thechampion she sought. "Are you, Sir Knight, " she said, "so daringand so kind as to take up my cause against a fierce and cruelwarrior who has made prisoner of my lord, and forced me thus to bea wanderer and a suppliant?" Then she related the events which hadhappened at the bridge. Bradamante, to whom noble enterprises werealways welcome, readily embraced this, and the rather as in hergloomy forebodings she felt as if Rogero was forever lost to her. 

Next day the two arrived at the bridge. The sentry descried themapproaching, and gave notice to his lord, who thereupon donned hisarmor and went forth to meet them. Here, as usual, he called onthe advancing warrior to yield his horse and arms an oblation tothe tomb. Bradamante replied, asking by what right he called onthe innocent to do penance for his crime. "Your life and yourarmor, " she added, "are the fittest offering to her tomb, and I, awoman, the fittest champion to take them. " With that she couchedher spear, spurred her horse, and ran to the encounter. KingRodomont came on with speed. The trampling sounded on the bridgelike thunder. It took but a moment to decide the contest. Thegolden lance did its office, and that fierce Moor, so renowned intourney, lay extended on the bridge. "Who is the loser now?" saidBradamante; but Rodomont, amazed that a woman's hand should havelaid him low, could not or would not answer. Silent and sad, heraised himself, unbound his helm and mail, and flung them againstthe tomb; then, sullen and on foot, left the ground; but firstgave orders to one of his squires to release all his prisoners. They had been sent off to Africa. Besides Florismart, there wereSansonnet and Oliver, who had ridden that way in quest of Orlando, and had both in turn been overthrown in the encounter. 

Bradamante after her victory resumed her route, and in due timereached the Christian camp, where she readily learned anexplanation of the mystery which had caused her so much anxiety. Rogero and his fair and brave sister, Marphisa, were tooillustrious by their station and exploits not to be the frequenttopic of discourse even among their adversaries, and all thatBradamante was anxious to know reached her ear, almost withoutinquiry. 

We now return to Gradasso, who by Rogero's victory had been madepossessor of Durindana. There now only remained to him to seek thehorse of Rinaldo; and the challenge, given and accepted, was yetto be fought with that warrior, for it had been interrupted by thearts of Malagigi. Gradasso now sought another meeting withRinaldo, and met with no reluctance on his part. As the combat wasfor the possession of Bayard, the knights dismounted and fought onfoot. Long time the battle lasted. Rinaldo, knowing well thedeadly stroke of Durindana, used all his art to parry or avoid itsblow. Gradasso struck with might and main, but wellnigh all hisstrokes were spent in air, or if they smote they fell obliquelyand did little harm. 

Thus had they fought long, glancing at one another's eyes, andseeing naught else, when their attention was arrested perforce bya strange noise. They turned, and beheld the good Bayard attackedby a monstrous bird. Perhaps it was a bird, for such it seemed;but when or where such a bird was ever seen I have nowhere read, except in Turpin; and I am inclined to believe that it was not abird, but a fiend, evoked from underground by Malagigi, andthither sent on purpose to interrupt the fight. Whether a fiend ora fowl, the monster flew right at Bayard, and clapped his wings inhis face. Thereat the steed broke loose, and ran madly across theplain, pursued by the bird, till Bayard plunged into the wood, andwas lost to sight. 

Rinaldo and Gradasso, seeing Bayard's escape, agreed to suspendtheir battle till they could recover the horse, the object ofcontention. Gradasso mounted his steed, and followed the foot-marks of Bayard into the forest. Rinaldo, never more vexed inspirit, remained at the spot, Gradasso having promised to returnthither with the horse, if he found him. He did find him, afterlong search, for he had the good fortune to hear him neigh. Thushe became possessed of both the objects for which he had led anarmy from his own country, and invaded France. He did not forgethis promise to bring Bayard back to the place where he had leftRinaldo, but only muttering, "Now I have got him, he little knowsme who expects me to give him up; if Rinaldo wants the horse lethim seek him in India, as I have sought him in France, "--he madethe best of his way to Arles, where his vessels lay; and inpossession of the two objects of his ambition, the horse and thesword, sailed away to his own country. 

ASTOLPHO IN ABYSSINIA

When we last parted with the adventurous paladin Astolpho, he wasjust commencing that flight over the countries of the world fromwhich he promised himself so much gratification. Our readers areaware that the eagle and the falcon have not so swift a flight asthe Hippogriff on which Astolpho rode. It was not long, therefore, before the paladin, directing his course toward the southeast, arrived over that part of Africa where the great river Nile hasits source. Here he alighted, and found himself in theneighborhood of the capital of Abyssinia, ruled by Senapus, whoseriches and power were immense. His palace was of surpassingsplendor; the bars of the gates, the hinges and locks, were all ofpure gold; in fact, this metal, in that country, is put to allthose uses for which we employ iron. It is so common that theyprefer for ornamental purposes rock crystal, of which all thecolumns were made. Precious stones of different kinds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and topazes were set in ornamental designs, and the walls and ceilings were adorned with pearls. 

It is in this country those famous balms grow of which there aresome few plants in that part of Judaea called Gilead. Musk, ambergris, and numerous gums, so precious in Europe, are here intheir native climate. It is said the Sultan of Egypt pays a vasttribute to the monarch of this country to hire him not to cut offthe source of the Nile, which he might easily do, and cause theriver to flow in some other direction, thus depriving Egypt of thesource of its fertility. 

At the time of Astolpho's arrival in his dominions, this monarchwas in great affliction. In spite of his riches and the preciousproductions of his country, he was in danger of dying of hunger. He was a prey to a flock of obscene birds called Harpies, whichattacked him whenever he sat at meat, and with their clawssnatched, tore, and scattered everything, overturning the vessels, devouring the food, and infecting what they left with their filthytouch. It was said this punishment was inflicted upon the kingbecause when young, and filled with pride and presumption, he hadattempted to invade with an army the terrestrial paradise, whichis situated on the top of a mountain whence the Nile draws itssource. Nor was this his only punishment. He was struck blind. 

Astolpho, on arriving in the dominions of this monarch, hastenedto pay him his respects. King Senapus received him graciously, andordered a splendid repast to be prepared in honor of his arrival. While the guests were seated at table, Astolpho filling the placeof dignity at the king's right hand, the horrid scream of theHarpies was heard in the air, and soon they approached, hoveringover the tables, seizing the food from the dishes, and overturningeverything with the flapping of their broad wings. In vain theguests struck at them with knives and any weapons which they had, and Astolpho drew his sword and gave them repeated blows, whichseemed to have no more effect upon them than if their bodies hadbeen made of tow. 

At last Astolpho thought of his horn. He first gave warning to theking and his guests to stop their ears; then blew a blast. TheHarpies, terrified at the sound, flew away as fast as their wingscould carry them. The paladin mounted his Hippogriff, and pursuedthem, blowing his horn as often as he came near them. Theystretched their flight towards the great mountain, at the foot ofwhich there is a cavern, which is thought to be the mouth of theinfernal abodes. Hither those horrid birds flew, as if to theirhome. Having seen them all disappear in the recess, Astolpho carednot to pursue them farther, but alighting, rolled huge stones intothe mouth of the cave, and piled branches of trees therein, sothat he effectually barred their passage out, and we have noevidence of their ever having been seen since in the outer air. 

After this labor Astolpho refreshed himself by bathing in afountain whose pure waters bubbled from a cleft of the rock. Having rested awhile, an earnest desire seized him of ascendingthe mountain which towered above him. The Hippogriff bore himswiftly upwards, and landed him on the top of the mountain, whichhe found to be an extensive plain. 

A splendid palace rose in the middle of this plain, whose wallsshone with such brilliancy that mortal eyes could hardly bear thesight. Astolpho guided the winged horse towards this edifice, andmade him poise himself in the air while he took a leisurely surveyof this favored spot and its environs. It seemed as if nature andart had striven with one another to see which could do the mostfor its embellishment. 

Astolpho, on approaching the edifice, saw a venerable man advanceto meet him. This personage was clothed in a long vesture as whiteas snow, while a mantle of purple covered his shoulders, and hungdown to the ground. A white beard descended to his middle, and hishair, of the same color, overshadowed his shoulders. His eyes wereso brilliant that Astolpho felt persuaded that he was a blessedinhabitant of the heavenly mansions. 

The sage, smiling benignantly upon the paladin, who from respecthad dismounted from his horse, said to him: "Noble chevalier, knowthat it is by the Divine will you have been brought to theterrestrial paradise. Your mortal nature could not have borne toscale these heights and reach these seats of bliss if it were notthe will of Heaven that you should be instructed in the means tosuccor Charles, and to sustain the glory of our holy faith. I amprepared to impart the needed counsels; but before I begin let mewelcome you to our sojourn. I doubt not your long fast and distantjourney have given you a good appetite. "

The aspect of the venerable man filled the prince with admiration;but his surprise ceased when he learned from him that he was thatone of the Apostles of our Lord to whom he said, "I will that thoutarry till I come. "

St. John, conducting Astolpho, rejoined his companions. These werethe patriarch Enoch and the prophet Elijah; neither of whom hadyet seen his dying day, but, taken from our lower world, weredwelling in a region of peace and joy, in a climate of eternalspring, till the last trumpet shall sound. 

The three holy inhabitants of the terrestrial paradise receivedAstolpho with the greatest kindness, carried him to a pleasantapartment, and took great care of the Hippogriff, to whom theygave such food as suited him, while to the prince they presentedfruits so delicious that he felt inclined to excuse our firstparents for their sin in eating them without permission. 

Astolpho, having recruited his strength, not only by theseexcellent fruits, but also by sweet sleep, roused himself at thefirst blush of dawn, and as soon as he left his chamber met thebeloved Apostle coming to seek him. St. John took him by the hand, and told him many things relating to the past and the future. Among others, he said, "Son, let me tell you what is now going onin France. Orlando, the illustrious prince who received at hisbirth the endowment of strength and courage more than mortal, raised up as was Samson of old to be the champion of the truefaith, has been guilty of the basest ingratitude in leaving theChristian camp when it most needed the support of his arm, to runafter a Saracen princess, whom he would fain marry, though shescorns him. To punish him his reason has been taken away, so thathe runs naked through the land, over mountains and throughvalleys, without a ray of intelligence. The duration of hispunishment has been fixed at three months, and that time havingnearly expired, you have been brought hither to learn from us themeans by which the reason of Orlando may be restored. True, youwill be obliged to make a journey with me, and we must even leavethe earth, and ascend to the moon, for it is in that planet we areto seek the remedy for the madness of the paladin. I propose tomake our journey this evening, as soon as the moon appears overour head. "

As soon as the sun sunk beneath the seas, and the moon presentedits luminous disk, the holy man had the chariot brought out inwhich he was accustomed to make excursions among the stars, thesame which was employed long ago to convey Elijah up from earth. The saint made Astolpho seat himself beside him, took the reins, and giving the word to the coursers, they bore them upward withastonishing celerity. 

At length they reached the great continent of the Moon. Itssurface appeared to be of polished steel, with here and there aspot which, like rust, obscured its brightness. The paladin wasastonished to see that the earth, with all its seas and rivers, seemed but an insignificant spot in the distance. 

The prince discovered in this region so new to him rivers, lakes, plains, hills, and valleys. Many beautiful cities and castlesenriched the landscape. He saw also vast forests, and heard inthem the sound of horns and the barking of dogs, which led him toconclude that the nymphs were following the chase. 

The knight, filled with wonder at all he saw, was conducted by thesaint to a valley, where he stood amazed at the riches strewed allaround him. Well he might be so, for that valley was thereceptacle of things lost on earth, either by men's fault, or bythe effect of time and chance. Let no one suppose we speak here ofkingdoms or of treasures; they are the toys of Fortune, which shedispenses in turning her wheel; we speak of things which she canneither give nor take away. Such are reputations, which appear atone time so brilliant, and a short time after are heard of nomore. Here, also, are countless vows and prayers for unattainableobjects, lovers' sighs and tears, time spent in gaming, dressing, and doing nothing, the leisure of the dull and the intentions ofthe lazy, baseless projects, intrigues, and plots; these and suchlike things fill all the valley. 

Astolpho had a great desire to understand all that he saw, andwhich appeared to him so extraordinary. Among the rest, heobserved a great mountain of blown bladders, from which issuedindistinct noises. The saint told him these were the dynasties ofAssyrian and Persian kings, once the wonder of the earth, of whichnow scarce the name remains. 

Astolpho could not help laughing when the saint said to him, "Allthese hooks of silver and gold that you see are the gifts ofcourtiers to princes, made in the hope of getting something betterin return. " He also showed him garlands of flowers in which snareswere concealed; these were flatteries and adulations, meant todeceive. But nothing was so comical as the sight of numerousgrasshoppers which had burst their lungs with chirping. These, hetold him, were sonnets, odes, and dedications, addressed by venalpoets to great people. 

The paladin beheld with wonder what seemed a lake of spilled milk. "It is, " said the saint, "the charity done by frightened misers ontheir death-beds. " It would take too long to tell all that thevalley contained: meanness, affectations, pretended virtues, andconcealed vices were there in abundance. 

Among the rest Astolpho perceived many days of his own lost, andmany imprudent sallies which he had made, and would have been gladnot to have been reminded of. But he also saw among so many lostthings a great abundance of one thing which men are apt to thinkthey all possess, and do not think it necessary to pray for, --good sense. This commodity appeared under the form of a liquor, most light and apt to evaporate. It was therefore kept in vials, firmly sealed. One of these was labelled, "The sense of thePaladin Orlando. "

All the bottles were ticketed, and the sage placed one inAstolpho's hand, which he found was his own. It was more than halffull. He was surprised to find there many other vials whichcontained almost the whole of the wits of many persons who passedamong men for wise. Ah, how easy it is to lose one's reason! Somelose theirs by yielding to the sway of the passions; some inbraving tempests and shoals in search of wealth; some by trustingtoo much to the promises of the great; some by setting theirhearts on trifles. As might have been expected, the bottles whichheld the wits of astrologers, inventors, metaphysicians, and aboveall, of poets, were in general the best filled of all. 

Astolpho took his bottle, put it to his nose, and inhaled it all;and Turpin assures us that he was for a long time afterwards assage as one could wish; but the Archbishop adds that there wasreason to fear that some of the precious fluid afterwards foundits way back into the bottle. The paladin took also the bottlewhich belonged to Orlando. It was a large one, and quite full. 

Before quitting the planetary region Astolpho was conducted to anedifice on the borders of a river. He was shown an immense hallfull of bundles of silk, linen, cotton, and wool. A thousanddifferent colors, brilliant or dull, some quite black, were amongthese skeins. In one part of the hall an old woman was busywinding off yarns from all these different bundles. When she hadfinished a skein another ancient dame took it and placed it withothers; a third selected from the fleeces spun, and mingled themin due proportions. The paladin inquired what all this might be. "These old women, " said the saint, "are the Fates, who spin, measure, and terminate the lives of mortals. As long as the threadstretches in one of those skeins, so long does the mortal enjoythe light of day; but nature and death are on the alert to shutthe eyes of those whose thread is spun. "

Each one of the skeins had a label of gold, silver, or iron, bearing the name of the individual to whom it belonged. An oldman, who, in spite of the burden of years, seemed brisk andactive, ran without ceasing to fill his apron with these labels, and carried them away to throw them into the river, whose name wasLethe. When he reached the shore of the river the old man shookout his apron, and the labels sunk to the bottom. A small numberonly floated for a time, hardly one in a thousand. Numberlessbirds, hawks, crows, and vultures hovered over the stream, withclamorous cries, and strove to snatch from the water some of thesenames; but they were too heavy for them, and after a while thebirds were forced to let them drop into the river of oblivion. Buttwo beautiful swans, of snowy whiteness, gathered some few of thenames, and returned with them to the shore, where a lovely nymphreceived them from their beaks, and carried them to a templeplaced upon a hill, and suspended them for all time upon a sacredcolumn, on which stood the statue of Immortality. 

Astolpho was amazed at all this, and asked his guide to explainit. He replied, "The old man is Time. All the names upon thetickets would be immortal if the old man did not plunge them intothe river of oblivion. Those clamorous birds which make vainefforts to save certain of the names are flatterers, pensioners, venal rhymesters, who do their best to rescue from oblivion theunworthy names of their patrons; but all in vain; they may keepthem from their fate a little while, but ere long the river ofoblivion must swallow them all. 

"The swans, that with harmonious strains carry certain names tothe temple of Eternal Memory, are the great poets, who save fromoblivion worse than death the names of those they judge worthy ofimmortality. Swans of this kind are rare. Let monarchs know thetrue breed, and fail not to nourish with care such as may chanceto appear in their time. "

THE WAR IN AFRICA

When Astolpho had descended to the earth with the precious phial, St. John showed him a plant of marvellous virtues, with which hetold him he had only to touch the eyes of the king of Abyssinia torestore him to sight. "That important service, " said the saint, "added to your having delivered him from the Harpies, will inducehim to give you an army wherewith to attack the Africans in theirrear, and force them to return from France to defend their owncountry. " The saint also instructed him how to lead his troops insafety across the great deserts, where caravans are oftenoverwhelmed with moving columns of sand. Astolpho, fortified withample instructions, remounted the Hippogriff, thanked the saint, received his blessing, and took his flight down to the levelcountry. 

Keeping the course of the river Nile, he soon arrived at thecapital of Abyssinia, and rejoined Senapus. The joy of the kingwas great when he heard again the voice of the hero who haddelivered him from the Harpies. Astolpho touched his eyes with theplant which he had brought from the terrestrial paradise, andrestored their sight. The king's gratitude was unbounded. Hebegged him to name a reward, promising to grant it, whatever itmight be. Astolpho asked an army to go to the assistance ofCharlemagne, and the king not only granted him a hundred thousandmen, but offered to lead them himself. 

The night before the day appointed for the departure of the troopsAstolpho mounted his winged horse, and directed his flight towardsa mountain, whence the fierce South-wind issues, whose blastraises the sands of the Nubian desert, and whirls them onward inoverwhelming clouds. The paladin, by the advice of St. John, hadprepared himself with a leather bag, which he placed adroitly, with its mouth open, over the vent whence issues this terriblewind. At the first dawn of morning the wind rushed from its cavernto resume its daily course, and was caught in the bag, andsecurely tied up. Astolpho, delighted with his prize, returned tohis army, placed himself at their head, and commenced his march. The Abyssinians traversed without danger or difficulty those vastfields of sand which separate their country from the kingdoms ofNorthern Africa, for the terrible South-wind, taken completelycaptive, had not force enough left to blow out a candle. 

Senapus was distressed that he could not furnish any cavalry, forhis country, rich in camels and elephants, was destitute ofhorses. This difficulty the saint had foreseen, and had taughtAstolpho the means of remedying. He now put those means inoperation. Having reached a place whence he beheld a vast plainand the sea, he chose from his troops those who appeared to be thebest made and the most intelligent. These he caused to be arrangedin squadrons at the foot of a lofty mountain which bordered theplain, and he himself mounted to the summit to carry into effecthis great design. Here he found vast quantities of fragments ofrock and pebbles. These he set rolling down the mountain's side, and, wonderful to relate, as they rolled they grew in size, madethemselves bodies, legs, necks, and long faces. Next they began toneigh, to curvet, to scamper on all sides over the plain. Somewere bay, some roan, some dapple, some chestnut. The troops at thefoot of the mountain exerted themselves to catch these new-createdhorses, which they easily did, for the miracle had been soconsiderate as to provide all the horses with bridles and saddles. Astolpho thus suddenly found himself supplied with an excellentcorps of cavalry, not fewer (as Archbishop Turpin asserts) thaneighty thousand strong. With these troops Astolpho reduced all thecountry to subjection, and at last arrived before the walls ofAgramant's capital city, Biserta, to which he laid siege. 

We must now return to the camp of the Christians, which lay beforeArles, to which city the Saracens had retired after being defeatedin a night attack led on by Rinaldo. Agramant here received thetidings of the invasion of his country by a fresh enemy, theAbyssinians, and learned that Biserta was in danger of fallinginto their hands. He took counsel of his officers, and decided tosend an embassy to Charles, proposing that the whole quarrelshould be submitted to the combat of two warriors, one from eachside, according to the issue of which it should be decided whichparty should pay tribute to the other, and the war should cease. Charlemagne, who had not heard of the favorable turn which affairshad taken in Africa, readily agreed to this proposal, and Rinaldowas selected on the part of the Christians to sustain the combat. 

The Saracens selected Rogero for their champion. Rogero was stillin the Saracen camp, kept there by honor alone, for his mind hadbeen opened to the truth of the Christian faith by the argumentsof Bradamante, and he had resolved to leave the party of theinfidels on the first favorable opportunity, and to join theChristian side. But his honor forbade him to do this while hisformer friends were in distress; and thus he waited for what timemight bring forth, when he was startled by the announcement thathe had been selected to uphold the cause of the Saracens againstthe Christians, and that his foe was to be Rinaldo, the brother ofBradamante. 

While Rogero was overwhelmed with this intelligence Bradamante onher side felt the deepest distress at hearing of the proposedcombat. If Rogero should fall she felt that no other man livingwas worthy of her love; and if, on the other hand, Heaven shouldresolve to punish France by the death of her chosen champion, Bradamante would have to deplore her brother, so dear to her, andbe no less completely severed from the object of her affections. 

While the fair lady gave herself up to these sad thoughts, thesage enchantress, Melissa, suddenly appeared before her. "Fearnot, my daughter, " said she, "I shall find a way to interrupt thiscombat which so distresses you. "

Meanwhile Rinaldo and Rogero prepared their weapons for theconflict. Rinaldo had the choice, and decided that it should be onfoot, and with no weapons but the battle-axe and poniard. Theplace assigned was a plain between the camp of Charlemagne and thewalls of Arles. 

Hardly had the dawn announced the day appointed for this memorablecombat, when heralds proceeded from both sides to mark the lists. Erelong the African troops were seen to advance from the city, Agramant at their head; his brilliant arms adorned in the Moorishfashion, his horse a bay, with a white star on his forehead. Rogero marched at his side, and some of the greatest warriors ofthe Saracen camp attended him, bearing the various parts of hisarmor and weapons. Charlemagne, on his part, proceeded from hisintrenchments, ranged his troops in semicircle, and stoodsurrounded by his peers and paladins. Some of them bore portionsof the armor of Rinaldo, the celebrated Ogier, the Dane, bearingthe helmet which Rinaldo took from Mambrino. Duke Namo of Bavariaand Salomon of Bretagne bore two axes, of equal weight, preparedfor the occasion. 

The terms of the combat were then sworn to with the utmostsolemnity by all parties. It was agreed that if from either partany attempt was made to interrupt the battle both combatantsshould turn their arms against the party which should be guilty ofthe interruption; and both monarchs assented to the condition thatin such case the champion of the offending party should bedischarged from his allegiance, and at liberty to transfer hisarms to the other side. 

When all the preparations were concluded the monarchs and theirattendants retired each to his own side, and the champions wereleft alone. The two warriors advanced with measured steps towardseach other, and met in the middle of the space. They attacked oneanother at the same moment, and the air resounded with the blowsthey gave. Sparks flew from their battle-axes, while the velocitywith which they managed their weapons astonished the beholders. Rogero, always remembering that his antagonist was the brother ofhis betrothed, could not aim a deadly wound; he strove only toward off those levelled against himself. Rinaldo, on the otherhand, much as he esteemed Rogero, spared not his blows, for heeagerly desired victory for his own sake, and for the sake of hiscountry and his faith. 

The Saracens soon perceived that their champion fought feebly, andgave not to Rinaldo such blows as he received from him. Hisdisadvantage was so marked that anxiety and shame were manifest onthe countenance of Agramant. Melissa, one of the most acuteenchantresses that ever lived, seized this moment to disguiseherself under the form of Rodomont, that rude and impetuouswarrior, who had now for some time been absent from the Saracencamp. Approaching Agramant, she said, "How could you, my lord, have the imprudence of selecting a young man without experience tooppose the most redoubtable warrior of France? Surely you musthave been regardless of the honor of your arms, and of the fate ofyour empire! But it is not too late. Break without delay theagreement which is sure to result in your ruin. " So saying, sheaddressed the troops who stood near, "Friends, " said she, "followme; under my guidance every one of you will be a match for a scoreof those feeble Christians. " Agramant, delighted at seeingRodomont once more at his side, gave his consent, and theSaracens, at the instant, couched their lances, set spurs to theirsteeds, and swept down upon the French. Melissa, when she saw herwork successful, disappeared. 

Rinaldo and Rogero, seeing the truce broken, and the two armiesengaged in general conflict, stopped their battle; their martialfury ceased at once, they joined hands, and resolved to act nomore on either side until it should be clearly ascertained whichparty had failed to observe its oath. Both renewed their promiseto abandon forever the party which had been thus false andperjured. 

Meanwhile, the Christians, after the first moment of surprise, metthe Saracens with courage redoubled by rage at the treachery oftheir foes. Guido the Wild, brother and rival of Rinaldo, Griffonand Aquilant, sons of Oliver, and numerous others whose names havealready been celebrated in our recitals, beat back the assailants, and at last, after prodigious slaughter, forced them to takeshelter within the walls of Arles. 

We will now return to Orlando, whom we last heard of as furiouslymad, and doing a thousand acts of violence in his senseless rage. One day he came to the borders of a stream which intercepted hiscourse. He swam across it, for he could swim like an otter, and onthe other side saw a peasant watering his horse. He seized theanimal, in spite of the resistance of the peasant, and rode itwith furious speed till he arrived at the sea-coast, where Spainis divided from Africa by only a narrow strait. At the moment ofhis arrival a vessel had just put off to cross the strait. She wasfull of people who, with glass in hand, seemed to be taking amerry farewell of the land, wafted by a favorable breeze. 

The frantic Orlando cried out to them to stop and take him in; butthey, having no desire to admit a madman to their company, paidhim no attention. The paladin thought this behavior very uncivil;and by force of blows made his horse carry him into the water inpursuit of the ship. The wretched animal soon had only his headabove water; but as Orlando urged him forward, nothing was leftfor the poor beast but either to die or swim over to Africa. 

Already Orlando had lost sight of the bark; distance and the swellof the sea completely hid it from his sight. He continued to presshis horse forward, till at last it could struggle no more, andsunk beneath him. Orlando, nowise concerned, stretched out hisnervous arms, puffing the salt water from before his mouth, andcarried his head above the waves. Fortunately they were not rough, scarce a breath of wind agitated the surface; otherwise, theinvincible Orlando would then have met his death. But fortune, which it is said favors fools, delivered him from this danger, andlanded him safe on the shore of Ceuta. Here he rambled along theshore till he came to where the black army of Astolpho held itscamp. 

Now it happened, just before this time, that a vessel filled withprisoners which Rodomont had taken at the bridge had arrived, and, not knowing of the presence of the Abyssinian army, had sailedright into port, where of course the prisoners and their captorschanged places, the former being set at liberty and received withall joy, the latter sent to serve in the galleys. Astolpho thusfound himself surrounded with Christian knights, and he and hisfriends were exchanging greetings and felicitations, when a noisewas heard in the camp, and seemed to increase every moment. 

Astolpho and his friends seized their weapons, mounted theirhorses, and rode to the quarter whence the noise proceeded. Imagine their astonishment when they saw that the tumult wascaused by a single man, perfectly naked, and browned with dirt andexposure, but of a force and fury so terrible that he overturnedall that offered to lay hands on him. 

Astolpho, Dudon, Oliver, and Florimart gazed at him withamazement. It was with difficulty they knew him. Astolpho, who hadbeen warned of his condition by his holy monitor, was the first torecognize him. As the paladins closed round Orlando, the madmandealt one and another a blow of his fist, which, if they had notbeen in armor, or he had had any weapon, would probably havedespatched them; as it was, Dudon and Astolpho measured theirlength on the sand. But Florimart seized him from behind, Sansonnet and another grasped his legs, and at last they succeededin securing him with ropes. They took him to the water-side andwashed him well, and then Astolpho, having first bandaged hismouth so that he could not breathe except through his nose, brought the precious phial, uncorked it, and placed it adroitlyunder his nostrils, when the good Orlando took it all up in onebreath. O marvellous prodigy! The paladin recovered in an instantall his intelligence. He felt like one who had awakened from apainful dream, in which he had believed that monsters were aboutto tear him to pieces. He seemed prostrated, silent, and abashed. Florismart, Oliver, and Astolpho stood gazing upon him, while heturned his eyes around and on himself. He seemed surprised to findhimself naked, bound, and stretched on the sea-shore. After a fewmoments he recognized his friends, and spoke to them in a tone sotender that they hastened to unbind him, and to supply him withgarments. Then they exerted themselves to console him, to diminishthe weight with which his spirits were oppressed, and to make himforget the wretched condition into which he had been sunk. 

Orlando, in recovering his reason, found himself also deliveredfrom his insane attachment to the queen of Cathay. His heart feltnow no further influenced by the recollection of her than to bemoved with an ardent desire to retrieve his fame by somedistinguished exploit. Astolpho would gladly have yielded to himthe chief command of the army, but Orlando would not take from thefriend to whom he owed so much the glory of the campaign; but ineverything the two paladins acted in concert, and united theircounsels. They proposed to make a general assault on the city ofBiserta, and were only waiting a favorable moment, when their planwas interrupted by new events. 

Agramant, after the bloody battle which followed the infraction ofthe truce, found himself so weak that he saw it was in vain toattempt to remain in France. So, in concert with Sobrino, thebravest and most trusted of his chiefs, he embarked to return tohis own country, having previously sent off his few remainingtroops in the same direction. The vessel which carried Agramantand Sobrino approached the shore where the army of Astolpho layencamped before Biserta, and having discovered this fact before itwas too late, the king commanded the pilot to steer eastward, witha view to seek protection of the King of Egypt. But the weatherbecoming rough, he consented to the advice of his companions, andsought harbor in an island which lies between Sicily and Africa. There he found Gradasso, the warlike king of Sericane, who hadcome to France to possess himself of the horse Bayard and thesword Durindana; and having procured both these prizes wasreturning to his own country. 

The two kings, who had been companions in arms under the walls ofParis, embraced one another affectionately. Gradasso learned withregret the reverses of Agramant, and offered him his troops andhis person. He strongly deprecated resorting to Egypt for aid. "Remember the great Pompey, " said he, "and shun that fatal shore. My plan, " he continued, "is this: I mean to challenge Orlando tosingle combat. Possessed of such a sword and steed as mine, if hewere made of steel or bronze, he could not escape me. He beingremoved, there will be no difficulty in driving back theAbyssinians. We will rouse against them the Moslem nations fromthe other side of the Nile, the Arabians, Persians, and Chaldeans, who will soon make Senapus recall his army to defend his ownterritories. "

Agramant approved this advice except in one particular. "It is forme, " said he, "to combat Orlando; I cannot with honor devolve thatduty on another. "

"Let us adopt a third course, " said the aged warrior Sobrino. "Iwould not willingly remain a simple spectator of such a contest. Let us send three squires to the shore of Africa to challengeOrlando and any two of his companions in arms to meet us three inthis island of Lampedusa. "

This counsel was adopted; the three squires sped on their way; andnow presented themselves, and rehearsed their message to theChristian knights. 

Orlando was delighted, and rewarded the squires with rich gifts. He had already resolved to seek Gradasso and compel him to restoreDurindana, which he had learned was in his possession. For his twocompanions the Count chose his faithful friend Florismart and hiscousin Oliver. 

The three warriors embarked, and sailing with a favorable wind, the second morning showed them, on their right, the island wherethis important battle was to be fought. Orlando and his twocompanions, having landed, pitched their tent. Agramant had placedhis opposite. 

Next morning, as soon as Aurora brightened the edges of thehorizon, the warriors of both parties armed themselves and mountedtheir horses. They took their positions, face to face, loweredtheir lances, placed them in rest, clapped spurs to their horses, and flew to the charge. Orlando met the charge of Gradasso. Thepaladin was unmoved, but his horse could not sustain the terribleshock of Bayard. He recoiled, staggered, and fell some pacesbehind. Orlando tried to raise him, but, finding his effortsunavailing, seized his shield, and drew his famous Balisardo. Meanwhile Agramant and the brave Oliver gained no advantage, oneor the other; but Florismart unhorsed the King Sobrino. Havingbrought his foe to the ground, he would not pursue his victory, but hastened to attack Gradasso, who had overthrown Orlando. Seeing him thus engaged, Orlando would not interfere, but ran withsword upraised upon Sobrino, and with one blow deprived him ofsense and motion. Believing him dead, he next turned to aid hisbeloved Florismart. That brave paladin, neither in horse nor armsequal to his antagonist, could but parry and evade the blows ofthe terrible Durindana. Orlando, eager to succor him, was delayedfor a moment in securing and mounting the horse of the KingSobrino. It was but an instant, and with sword upraised, he rushedupon Gradasso who, noways disconcerted at the onset of this secondfoe, shouted his defiance, and thrust at him with his sword, but, having miscalculated the distance, scarcely reached him, andfailed to pierce his mail. Orlando, in return, dealt him a blowwith Balisardo, which wounded as it fell face, breast, and thigh, and, if he had been a little nearer, would have cleft him intwain. Sobrino, by this time recovered from his swoon, thoughseverely wounded, raised himself on his legs, and looked to seehow he might aid his friends. Observing Agramant hard pressed byOliver, he thrust his sword into the bowels of the latter's horse, which fell, and bore down his master, entangling his leg as hefell, so that Oliver could not extricate himself. Florismart sawthe danger of his friend, and ran upon Sobrino with his horse, overthrew him, and then turned to defend himself from Agramant. They were not unequally matched, for though Agramant, mounted onBrigliadoro, had an advantage over Florismart, whose horse was butindifferent, yet Agramant had received a serious wound in hisencounter with Oliver. 

Nothing could exceed the fury of the encounter between Orlando andGradasso. Durindana, in the hands of Gradasso, clove asunderwhatever it struck; but such was the skill of Orlando, whoperfectly knew the danger to which he was exposed from a stroke ofthat weapon, it had not yet struck him in such a way as to inflicta wound. Meanwhile, Gradasso was bleeding from many wounds, andhis rage and incaution increased every moment. In his desperationhe lifted Durindana with both hands, and struck so terrible a blowfull on the helmet of Orlando, that for a moment it stunned thepaladin. He dropped the reins, and his frightened horse scouredwith him over the plain. Gradasso turned to pursue him, but atthat moment saw Florismart in the very act of striking a fatalblow at Agramant, whom he had unhorsed. While Florismart waswholly intent upon completing his victory, Gradasso plunged hissword into his side. Florismart fell from his horse, and bathedthe plain with his blood. 

Orlando recovered himself just in time to see the deed. Whetherrage or grief predominated in his breast, I cannot tell; but, seizing Balisardo with fury, his first blow fell upon Agramant, who was nearest to him, and smote his head from his shoulders. Atthis sight Gradasso for the first time felt his courage sink, anda dark presentiment of death came over him. He hardly stood on hisdefence when Orlando cast himself upon him, and gave him a fatalthrust. The sword penetrated his ribs, and came out a palm'sbreadth on the other side of his body. 

Thus fell beneath the sword of the most illustrious paladin ofFrance the bravest warrior of the Saracen host. Orlando then, asif despising his victory, leaped lightly to the ground, and ran tohis dear friend Florismart, embraced him, and bathed him with histears. Florismart still breathed. He could even command his voiceto utter a few parting words: "Dear friend, do not forget me, --give me your prayers, --and oh! be a brother to Flordelis. " He diedin uttering her name. 

After a few moments given to grief Orlando turned to look for hisother companion and his late foes. Oliver lay oppressed with theweight of his horse, from which he had in vain struggled toliberate himself. Orlando extricated him with difficulty; he thenraised Sobrino from the earth, and committed him to his squire, treating him as gently as if he had been his own brother. For thisterrible warrior was the most generous of men to a fallen foe. Hetook Bayard and Brigliadoro, with the arms of the conqueredknights; their bodies and their other spoils he remitted to theirattendants. 

But who can tell the grief of Flordelis when she saw the warriorsreturn, and found not Florismart as usual after absence hasten toher side. She knew by the aspect of the others that her lord wasslain. At the thought, and before the question could pass herlips, she fell senseless upon the ground. When life returned, andshe learned the truth of her worst fears, she bitterly upbraidedherself that she had let him depart without her. "I might havesaved him by a single cry when his enemy dealt him thattreacherous blow, or I might have thrown myself between and givenmy worthless life for his. Or if no more, I might have heard hislast words, I might have given him a last kiss. " So she lamented, and could not be comforted. 

ROGERO AND BRADAMANTE

After the interruption of the combat with Rinaldo, as we haverelated, Rogero was perplexed with doubts what course to take. Theterms of the treaty required him to abandon Agramant, who hadbroken it, and to transfer his allegiance to Charlemagne; and hislove for Bradamante called him in the same direction; butunwillingness to desert his prince and leader in the hour ofdistress forbade this course. Embarking, therefore, for Africa, hetook his way to rejoin the Saracen army; but was arrested midwayby a storm which drove the vessel on a rock. The crew took totheir boat, but that was quickly swamped in the waves, and Rogerowith the rest were compelled to swim for their lives. Then whilebuffeting the waves Rogero bethought him of his sin in so longdelaying his Christian profession, and vowed in his heart that, ifhe should live to reach the land, he would no longer delay to bebaptized. His vows were heard and answered; he succeeded inreaching the shore, and was aided and relieved on landing by apious hermit, whose cell overlooked the sea. From him he receivedbaptism, having first passed some days with him, partaking hishumble fare, and receiving instruction in the doctrines of theChristian faith. 

While these things were going on, Rinaldo, who had set out on hisway to seek Gradasso and recover Bayard from him, hearing on hisway of the great things which were doing in Africa, repairedthither to bear his part in them. He arrived too late to do morethan join his friends in lamenting the loss of Florismart, and torejoice with them in their victory over the Pagan knights. On thedeath of their king the Africans gave up the contest, Bisertasubmitted, and the Christian knights had only to dismiss theirforces, and return home. Astolpho took leave of his Abyssinianarmy, and sent them back laden with spoil to their own country, not forgetting to intrust to them the bag which held the winds, bymeans of which they were enabled to cross the sandy desert againwithout danger, and did not untie it till they reached their owncountry. 

Orlando now, with Oliver, who much needed the surgeon's care, andSobrino, to whom equal attention was shown, sailed in a swiftvessel to Sicily, bearing with him the body of Florismart, to belaid in Christian earth. Rinaldo accompanied them, as didSansonnet and the other Christian leaders. Arrived at Sicily, thefuneral was solemnized with all the rites of religion, and withthe profound grief of those who had known Florismart, or had heardof his fame. Then they resumed their course, steering forMarseilles. But Oliver's wound grew worse instead of better, andhis sufferings so distressed his friends that they conferredtogether, not knowing what to do. Then said the pilot, "We are notfar from an isle where a holy hermit dwells alone in the midst ofthe sea. It is said none seek his counsel or his aid in vain. Hehath wrought marvellous cures, and if you resort to that holy manwithout doubt he can heal the knight. " Orlando bade him steerthither, and soon the bark was laid safely beside the lonely rock;the wounded man was lowered into their boat, and carried by thecrew to the hermit's cell. It was the same hermit with whom Rogerohad taken refuge after his shipwreck, by whom he had beenbaptized, and with whom he was now staying, absorbed in sacredstudies and meditations. 

The holy man received Orlando and the rest with kindness, andinquired their errand; and being told that they had come for helpfor one who, warring for the Christian faith, was brought toperilous pass by a sad wound, he straightway undertook the cure. His applications were simple, but they were seconded by hisprayers. The paladin was soon relieved from pain, and in a fewdays his foot was perfectly restored to soundness. Sobrino, assoon as he perceived the holy monk perform that wonder, cast asidehis false prophet, and with contrite heart owned the true God, anddemanded baptism at his hands. The hermit granted his request, andalso by his prayers restored him to health, while all theChristian knights rejoiced in his conversion almost as much as atthe restoration of Oliver. More than all Rogero felt joy andgratitude, and daily grew in grace and faith. 

Rogero was known by fame to all the Christian knights, but noteven Rinaldo knew him by sight, though he had proved his prowessin combat. Sobrino made him known to them, and great was the joyof all when they found one whose valor and courtesy were renownedthrough the world no longer an enemy and unbeliever, but a convertand champion of the true faith. All press about the knight; onegrasps his hand, another locks him fast in his embrace; but morethan all the rest, Rinaldo cherished him, for he more than anyknew his worth. 

It was not long before Rogero confided to his friend the hopes heentertained of a union with his sister, and Rinaldo frankly gavehis sanction to the proposal. But causes unknown to the paladinwere at that very time interposing obstacles to its success. 

The fame of the beauty and worth of Bradamante had reached theears of the Grecian Emperor, Constantine, and he had sent toCharlemagne to demand the hand of his niece for Leo, his son, andthe heir to his dominions. Duke Aymon, her father, had onlyreserved his consent until he should first have spoken with hisson Rinaldo, now absent. 

The warriors now prepared to resume their voyage. Rogero took atender farewell of the good hermit who had taught him the truefaith. Orlando restored to him the horse and arms which wererightly his, not even asserting his claim to Balisarda, that swordwhich he himself had won from the enchantress. 

The hermit gave his blessing to the band, and they reembarked. Thepassage was speedy, and very soon they arrived in the harbor ofMarseilles. 

Astolpho, when he had dismissed his troops, mounted theHippogriff, and at one flight shot over to Sardinia, thence toCorsica, thence, turning slightly to the left, hovered overProvence, and alighted in the neighborhood of Marseilles. There hedid what he had been commanded to do by the holy saint; heunbridled the Hippogriff, and turned him loose to seek his ownretreats, never more to be galled with saddle or bit. The horn hadlost its marvellous power ever since the visit to the moon. 

Astolpho reached Marseilles the very day when Orlando, Rinaldo, Oliver, Sobrino, and Rogero arrived there. Charles had alreadyheard the news of the defeat of the Saracen kings, and all theaccompanying events. On learning the approach of the gallantknights, he sent forward some of his most illustrious nobles toreceive them, and himself, with the rest of his court, kings, dukes, and peers, the queen, and a fair and gorgeous band ofladies, set forward from Arles to meet them. 

No sooner were the mutual greetings interchanged, than Orlando andhis friends led forward Rogero, and presented him to the Emperor. They vouch him son of Rogero, Duke of Risa, one of the mostrenowned of Christian warriors, by adverse fortune stolen in hisinfancy, and brought up by Saracens in the false faith, now by akind Providence converted, and restored to fill the place hisfather once held among the foremost champions of the throne andChurch. 

Rogero had alighted from his horse, and stood respectfully beforethe Emperor. Charlemagne bade him remount and ride beside him; andomitted nothing which might do him honor in sight of his martialtrain. With pomp triumphal and with festive cheer the troopreturned to the city; the streets were decorated with garlands, the houses hung with rich tapestry, and flowers fell like rainupon the conquering host from the hands of fair dames and damsels, from every balcony and window. So welcomed, the mighty Emperorpassed on till he reached the royal palace, where many days hefeasted, high in hall, with his lords, amid tourney, revel, dance, and song. 

When Rinaldo told his father, Duke Aymon, how he had promised hissister to Rogero, his father heard him with indignation, havingset his heart on seeing her united to the Grecian Emperor's son. The Lady Beatrice, her mother, also appealed to Bradamante herselfto reject a knight who had neither title nor lands, and give thepreference to one who would make her Empress of the wide Levant. But Bradamante, though respect forbade her to refuse her mother'sentreaty, would not promise to do what her heart repelled, andanswered only with a sigh, until she was alone, and then gave aloose to tears. 

Meanwhile Rogero, indignant that a stranger should presume to robhim of his bride, determined to seek the Prince of Greece, anddefy him to mortal combat. With this design he donned his armor, but exchanged his crest and emblazonment, and bore instead a whiteunicorn upon a crimson field. He chose a trusty squire, and, commanding him not to address him as Rogero, rode on his quest. Having crossed the Rhine and the Austrian countries into Hungary, he followed the course of the Danube till he reached Belgrade. There he saw the imperial ensigns spread, and white pavilions, thronged with troops, before the town. For the Emperor Constantinewas laying siege to the city to recover it from the Bulgarians, who had taken it from him not long before. 

A river flowed between the camp of the Emperor and the Bulgarians, and at the moment when Rogero approached, a skirmish had begunbetween the parties from either camp, who had approached thestream for the purpose of watering. The Greeks in that affray werefour to one, and drove back the Bulgarians in precipitate rout. Rogero, seeing this, and animated only by his hatred of theGrecian prince, dashed into the middle of the flying mass, callingaloud on the fugitives to turn. He encountered first a leader ofthe Grecian host in splendid armor, a nephew of the Emperor, asdear to him as a son. Rogero's lance pierced shield and armor, andstretched the warrior breathless on the plain. Another and anotherfell before him, and astonishment and terror arrested the advanceof the Greeks, while the Bulgarians, catching courage from thecavalier, rally, change front, and chase the Grecian troops, whofly in their turn. Leo, the prince, was at a distance when thissudden skirmish rose, but not so far but that he could seedistinctly, from an elevated position which he held, how thechanged battle was all the work of one man, and could not choosebut admire the bravery and prowess with which it was done. He knewby the blazonry displayed that the champion was not of theBulgarian army, though he furnished aid to them. Although hesuffered by his valor, the prince could not wish him ill, for hisadmiration surpassed his resentment. By this time the Greeks hadregained the river, and crossing it by fording or swimming, somemade their escape, leaving many more prisoners in the hands of theBulgarians. Rogero, learning from some of the captives that Leowas at a point some distance down the river, rode thither with aview to meet him, but arrived not before the Greek prince hadretired beyond the stream, and broken up the bridge. Day wasspent, and Rogero, wearied, looked round for a shelter for thenight. He found it in a cottage, where he soon yielded himself torepose. It so happened, a knight who had narrowly escaped Rogero'ssword in the late battle also found shelter in the same cottage, and, recognizing the armor of the unknown knight, easily foundmeans of securing him as he slept, and next morning carried him inchains and delivered him to the Emperor. By him he was in turndelivered to his sister Theodora, mother of the young knight, thefirst victim of Rogero's spear. By her he was cast into a dungeon, till her ingenuity could devise a death sufficiently painful tosatiate her revenge. 

Bradamante, meanwhile, to escape her father's and mother'simportunity, had begged a boon of Charlemagne, which the monarchpledged his royal word to grant; it was that she should not becompelled to marry any one unless he should first vanquish her insingle combat. The Emperor therefore proclaimed a tournament inthese words: "He that would wed Duke Aymon's daughter must contendwith the sword against that dame, from the sun's rise to hissetting; and if, in that time, he is not overcome the lady shallbe his. "

Duke Aymon and the Lady Beatrice, though much incensed at thecourse things had taken, brought their daughter to court, to awaitthe day appointed for the tournament. Bradamante, not findingthere him whom her heart required, distressed herself with doubtswhat could be the cause of his absence. Of all fancies, the mostpainful one was that he had gone away to learn to forget her, knowing her father's and her mother's opposition to their union, and despairing to contend against them. But oh, how much worsewould be the maiden's woe, if it were known to her what herbetrothed was then enduring!

He was plunged in a dungeon where no ray of daylight everpenetrated, loaded with chains, and scantily supplied with thecoarsest food. No wonder despair took possession of his heart, andhe longed for death as a relief, when one night (or one day, forboth were equally dark to him) he was roused with the glare of atorch and saw two men enter his cell. It was the Prince Leo, withan attendant, who had come as soon as he had learned the wretchedfate of the brave knight whose valor he had seen and admired onthe field of battle. "Cavalier, " said he, "I am one whom thy valorhath so bound to thee, that I willingly peril my own safety tolend thee aid. " "Infinite thanks I owe you, " replied Rogero, "andthe life you give me I promise faithfully to render back upon yourcall, and promptly to stake it at all times for your service. " Theprince then told Rogero his name and rank, at hearing which a tideof contending emotions almost overwhelmed Rogero. He was set atliberty, and had his horse and arms restored to him. 

Meanwhile, tidings arrived of King Charles' decree that whoeveraspired to the hand of Bradamante must first encounter her withsword and lance. This news made the Grecian prince turn pale, forhe knew he was no match for her in fight. Communing with himself, he sees how he may make his wit supply the place of valor, andemploy the French knight, whose name was still unknown to him, tofight the battle for him. Rogero heard the proposal with extremedistress; yet it seemed worse than death to deny the first requestof one to whom he owed his life. Hastily he gave his assent "to doin all things that which Leo should command. " Afterward, bitterrepentance came over him; yet, rather than confess his change ofmind, death itself would be welcome. Death seems his only remedy;but how to die? Sometimes he thinks to make none but a feignedresistance, and allow her sword a ready access, for never candeath come more happily than if her hand guide the weapon. Yetthis will not avail, for, unless he wins the maid for the Greekprince, his debt remains unpaid. He had promised to maintain areal, not a feigned encounter. He will then keep his word, andbanish every thought from his bosom except that which moved him tomaintain his truth. 

The young prince, richly attended, set out, and with him Rogero. They arrived at Paris, but Leo preferred not to enter the city, and pitched his tents without the walls, making known his arrivalto Charlemagne by an embassy. The monarch was pleased, andtestified his courtesy by visits and gifts. The prince set forththe purpose of his coming, and prayed the Emperor to dispatch hissuit--"to send forth the damsel who refused ever to take inwedlock any lord inferior to herself in fight; for she should behis bride, or he would perish beneath her sword. "

Rogero passed the night before the day assigned for the battlelike that which the felon spends, condemned to pay the forfeit ofhis life on the ensuing day. He chose to fight with sword only, and on foot, for he would not let her see Frontino, knowing thatshe would recognize the steed. Nor would he use Balisarda, foragainst that enchanted blade all armor would be of no avail, andthe sword that he did take he hammered well upon the edge to abateits sharpness. He wore the surcoat of Prince Leo, and his shield, emblazoned with a golden, double-headed eagle. The prince tookcare to let himself be seen by none. 

Bradamante, meanwhile, prepared herself for the combat fardifferently. Instead of blunting the edge of her falchion shewhets the steel, and would fain infuse into it her own acerbity. As the moment approached she seemed to have fire within her veins, and waited impatiently for the trumpet's sound. At the signal shedrew her sword, and fell with fury upon her Rogero. But as a well-built wall or aged rock stands unmoved the fury of the storm, soRogero, clad in those arms which Trojan Hector once wore, withstood the strokes which stormed about his head and breast andflank. Sparks flew from his shield, his helm, his cuirass; fromdirect and back strokes, aimed now high, now low, falling thickand fast, like hailstones on a cottage roof; but Rogero, withskilful ward, turns them aside, or receives them where his armoris a sure protection, careful only to protect himself, and with nothought of striking in return. Thus the hours passed away, and, asthe sun approached the west, the damsel began to despair. But somuch the more her anger increases, and she redoubles her efforts, like the craftsman who sees his work unfinished while the day iswellnigh spent. O miserable damsel! didst thou know whom thouwouldst kill, --if, in that cavalier matched against thee thoudidst but know Rogero, on whom thy very life-threads hang, ratherthan kill him thou wouldst kill thyself, for he is dearer to theethan life. 

King Charles and the peers, who thought the cavalier to be theGrecian prince, viewing such force and skill exhibited, and howwithout assaulting her the knight defended himself, were filledwith admiration, and declared the champions well matched, andworthy of each other. 

When the sun was set Charlemagne gave the signal for terminatingthe contest, and Bradamante was awarded to Prince Leo as a bride. Rogero, in deep distress, returned to his tent. There Leo unlacedhis helmet, and kissed him on both cheeks. "Henceforth, " said he, "do with me as you please, for you cannot exhaust my gratitude. "Rogero replied little, laid aside the ensigns he had worn, andresumed the unicorn, then hasted to withdraw himself from alleyes. When it was midnight he rose, saddled Frontino, and salliedfrom his tent, taking that direction which pleased his steed. Allnight he rode absorbed in bitter woe, and called on Death as alonecapable of relieving his sufferings. At last he entered a forest, and penetrated into its deepest recesses. There he unharnessedFrontino, and suffered him to wander where he would. Then he threwhimself down on the ground, and poured forth such bitter wailingsthat the birds and beasts, for none else heard him, were moved topity with his cries. 

Not less was the distress of the lady Bradamante, who, rather thanwed any one but Rogero, resolved to break her word, and defykindred, court, and Charlemagne himself; and, if nothing elsewould do, to die. But relief came from an unexpected quarter. Marphisa, sister of Rogero, was a heroine of warlike prowess equalto Bradamante. She had been the confidante of their loves, andfelt hardly less distress than themselves at seeing the perilswhich threatened their union. "They are already united by mutualvows, " she said, "and in the sight of Heaven what more isnecessary?" Full of this thought she presented herself beforeCharlemagne, and declared that she herself was witness that themaiden had spoken to Rogero those words which they who marryswear; and that the compact was so sealed between the pair thatthey were no longer free, nor could forsake the one the other totake another spouse. This her assertion she offered to prove, insingle combat, against Prince Leo, or any one else. 

Charlemagne, sadly perplexed at this, commanded Bradamante to becalled, and told her what the bold Marphisa had declared. Bradamante neither denied nor confirmed the statement, but hungher head, and kept silence. Duke Aymon was enraged, and would fainhave set aside the pretended contract on the ground that, if madeat all, it must have been made before Rogero was baptized, andtherefore void. But not so thought Rinaldo, nor the good Orlando, and Charlemagne knew not which way to decide, when Marphisa spokethus:

"Since no one else can marry the maiden while my brother lives, let the prince meet Rogero in mortal combat, and let him whosurvives take her for his bride. "

This saying pleased the Emperor, and was accepted by the prince, for he thought that, by the aid of his unknown champion, he shouldsurely triumph in the fight. Proclamation was therefore made forRogero to appear and defend his suit; and Leo, on his part, causedsearch to be made on all sides for the knight of the Unicorn. 

Meanwhile Rogero, overwhelmed with despair, lay stretched on theground in the forest night and day without food, courting death. Here he was discovered by one of Leo's people, who, finding himresist all attempts to remove him, hastened to his master, who wasnot far off, and brought him to the spot. As he approached heheard words which convinced him that love was the cause of theknight's despair; but no clew was given to guide him to the objectof that love. Stooping down, the prince embraced the weepingwarrior, and, in the tenderest accents, said: "Spare not, Ientreat you, to disclose the cause of your distress, for few suchdesperate evils betide mankind as are wholly past cure. It grievesme much that you would hide your grief from me, for I am bound toyou by ties that nothing can undo. Tell me, then, your grief, andleave me to try if wealth, art, cunning, force, or persuasioncannot relieve you. If not, it will be time enough after all hasbeen tried in vain to die. "

He spoke in such moving accents that Rogero could not choose butyield. It was some time before he could command utterance; at lasthe said, "My lord, when you shall know me for what I am, I doubtnot you, like myself, will be content that I should die. Know, then, I am that Rogero whom you have so much cause to hate, andwho so hated you that, intent on putting you to death, he went toseek you at your father's court. This I did because I could notsubmit to see my promised bride borne off by you. But, as manproposes and God disposes, your great courtesy, well tried in timeof sore need, so moved my fixed resolve, that I not only laidaside the hate I bore, but purposed to be your friend forever. Youthen asked of me to win for you the lady Bradamante, which was allone as to demand of me my heart and soul. You know whether Iserved you faithfully or not. Yours is the lady; possess her inpeace; but ask me not to live to see it. Be content rather that Idie; for vows have passed between myself and her which forbid thatwhile I live she can lawfully wive with another. "

So filled was gentle Leo with astonishment at these words that fora while he stood silent, with lips unmoved and steadfast gaze, like a statue. And the discovery that the stranger was Rogero notonly abated not the good will he bore him, but increased it, sothat his distress for what Rogero suffered seemed equal to hisown. For this, and because he would appear deservedly an Emperor'sson, and, though in other things outdone, would not be surpassedin courtesy, he says: "Rogero, had I known that day when yourmatchless valor routed my troops that you were Rogero, your virtuewould have made me your own, as then it made me while I knew notmy foe, and I should have no less gladly rescued you fromTheodora's dungeon. And if I would willingly have done so then, how much more gladly will I now restore the gift of which youwould rob yourself to confer it upon me. The damsel is more due toyou than to me, and though I know her worth, I would forego notonly her, but life itself, rather than distress a knight likeyou. "

This and much more he said to the same intent; till at last Rogeroreplied, "I yield, and am content to live, and thus a second timeowe my life to you. "

But several days elapsed before Rogero was so far restored as toreturn to the royal residence, where an embassy had arrived fromthe Bulgarian princes to seek the knight of the unicorn, andtender to him the crown of that country, in place of their king, fallen in battle. 

Thus were things situated when Prince Leo, leading by the handRogero, clad in the battered armor in which he had sustained theconflict with Bradamante, presented himself before the king. "Behold, " he said "the champion who maintained from dawn tosetting sun the arduous contest; he comes to claim the guerdon ofthe fight. " King Charlemagne, with all his peerage, stood amazed;for all believed that the Grecian prince himself had fought withBradamante. Then stepped forth Marphisa, and said, "Since Rogerois not here to assert his rights, I, his sister, undertake hiscause, and will maintain it against whoever shall dare dispute hisclaim. " She said this with so much anger and disdain that theprince deemed it no longer wise to feign, and withdrew Rogero'shelmet from his brow, saying, "Behold him here!" Who can describethe astonishment and joy of Marphisa! She ran and threw her armsabout her brother's neck, nor would give way to let Charlemagneand Rinaldo, Orlando, Dudon, and the rest, who crowded round, embrace him, and press friendly kisses on his brow. The joyfultidings flew fast by many a messenger to Bradamante, who in hersecret chamber lay lamenting. The blood that stagnated about herheart flowed at that notice so fast, that she had wellnigh diedfor joy. Duke Aymon and the Lady Beatrice no longer withheld theirconsent, and pledged their daughter to the brave Rogero before allthat gallant company. 

Now came the Bulgarian ambassadors, and, kneeling at the feet ofRogero, besought him to return with them to their country, where, in Adrianople, the crown and sceptre were awaiting his acceptance. Prince Leo united his persuasions to theirs, and promised, in hisroyal father's name, that peace should be restored on their part. Rogero gave his consent, and it was surmised that none of thevirtues which shone so conspicuously in him so availed torecommend Rogero to the Lady Beatrice as the hearing her futureson-in-law saluted as a sovereign prince. 

THE BATTLE OF RONCESVALLES

After the expulsion of the Saracens from France Charlemagne ledhis army into Spain, to punish Marsilius, the king of thatcountry, for having sided with the African Saracens in the latewar. Charlemagne succeeded in all his attempts, and compelledMarsilius to submit, and pay tribute to France. Our readers willremember Gano, otherwise called Gan, or Ganelon, whom we mentionedin one of our early chapters as an old courtier of Charlemagne, and a deadly enemy of Orlando, Rinaldo, and all their friends. Hehad great influence over Charles, from equality of age and longintimacy; and he was not without good qualities: he was brave andsagacious, but envious, false, and treacherous. Gan prevailed onCharles to send him as ambassador to Marsilius, to arrange thetribute. He embraced Orlando over and over again at taking leave, using such pains to seem loving and sincere, that his hypocrisywas manifest to every one but the old monarch. He fastened withequal tenderness on Oliver, who smiled contemptuously in his face, and thought to himself, "You may make as many fair speeches as youchoose, but you lie. " All the other paladins who were presentthought the same, and they said as much to the Emperor, addingthat Gan should on no account be sent ambassador to the Spaniards. But Charles was infatuated. 

Gan was received with great honor by Marsilius. The king, attendedby his lords, came fifteen miles out of Saragossa to meet him, andthen conducted him into the city with acclamations. There wasnothing for several days but balls, games, and exhibitions ofchivalry, the ladies throwing flowers on the heads of the Frenchknights, and the people shouting, "France! Mountjoy and St. Denis!"

After the ceremonies of the first reception the king and theambassador began to understand one another. One day they sattogether in a garden on the border of a fountain. The water was soclear and smooth it reflected every object around, and the spotwas encircled with fruit-trees which quivered with the fresh air. As they sat and talked, as if without restraint, Gan, withoutlooking the king in the face, was enabled to see the expression ofhis countenance in the water, and governed his speech accordingly. Marsilius was equally adroit, and watched the face of Gan while headdressed him. Marsilius began by lamenting, not as to theambassador, but as to the friend, the injuries which Charles haddone him by invading his dominions, charging him with wishing totake his kingdom from him and give it to Orlando; till at lengthhe plainly uttered his belief that if that ambitious paladin werebut dead good men would get their rights. 

Gan heaved a sigh, as if he was unwillingly compelled to allow theforce of what the king said; but unable to contain himself long helifted up his face, radiant with triumphant wickedness, andexclaimed: "Every word you utter is truth; die he must, and diealso must Oliver, who struck me that foul blow at court. Is ittreachery to punish affronts like these? I have plannedeverything, --I have settled everything already with theirbesotted master. Orlando will come to your borders--toRoncesvalles--for the purpose of receiving the tribute. Charleswill await him at the foot of the mountains. Orlando will bringbut a small band with him: you, when you meet him, will havesecretly your whole army at your back. You surround him, and whoreceives tribute then?"

The new Judas had scarcely uttered these words when his exultationwas interrupted by a change in the face of nature. The sky wassuddenly overcast, there was thunder and lightning, a laurel wassplit in two from head to foot, and the Carob-tree under which Ganwas sitting, which is said to be the species of tree on whichJudas Iscariot hung himself, dropped one of its pods on his head. 

Marsilius, as well as Gan, was appalled at this omen; but onassembling his soothsayers they came to the conclusion that thelaurel-tree turned the omen against the Emperor, the successor ofthe Caesars, though one of them renewed the consternation of Ganby saying that he did not understand the meaning of the tree ofJudas, and intimating that perhaps the ambassador could explainit. Gan relieved his vexation by anger; the habit of wickednessprevailed over all other considerations; and the king prepared tomarch to Roncesvalles at the head of all his forces. 

Gan wrote to Charlemagne to say how humbly and submissivelyMarsilius was coming to pay the tribute into the hands of Orlando, and how handsome it would be of the Emperor to meet him half-way, and so be ready to receive him after the payment at his camp. Headded a brilliant account of the tribute, and the accompanyingpresents. The good Emperor wrote in turn to say how pleased he waswith the ambassador's diligence, and that matters were arrangedprecisely as he wished. His court, however, had its suspicionstill, though they little thought Gan's object in bringing Charlesinto the neighborhood of Roncesvalles was to deliver him into thehands of Marsilius, after Orlando should have been destroyed byhim. 

Orlando, however, did as his lord and sovereign desired. He wentto Roncesvalles, accompanied by a moderate train of warriors, notdreaming of the atrocity that awaited him. Gan, meanwhile, hadhastened back to France, in order to show himself free and easy inthe presence of Charles, and secure the success of his plot; whileMarsilius, to make assurance doubly sure, brought into the passesof Roncesvalles no less than three armies, which were successivelyto fall on the paladin in case of the worst, and so extinguish himwith numbers. He had also, by Gan's advice, brought heaps of wineand good cheer to be set before his victims in the first instance;"for that, " said the traitor, "will render the onset the moreeffective, the feasters being unarmed. One thing, however, I mustnot forget, " added he; "my son Baldwin is sure to be with Orlando;you must take care of his life for my sake. "

"I give him this vesture off my own body, " said the king; "let himwear it in the battle, and have no fear. My soldiers shall bedirected not to touch him. "

Gan went away rejoicing to France. He embraced the sovereign andthe court all round with the air of a man who had brought themnothing but blessings, and the old king wept for very tendernessand delight. 

"Something is going on wrong, and looks very black, " thoughtMalagigi, the good wizard; "Rinaldo is not here, and it isindispensably necessary that he should be. I must find out wherehe is, and Ricciardetto too, and send for them with all speed. "

Malagigi called up by his art a wise, terrible, and cruel spirit, named Ashtaroth. "Tell me, and tell me truly, of Rinaldo, " saidMalagigi to the spirit. The demon looked hard at the paladin, andsaid nothing. His aspect was clouded and violent. 

The enchanter, with an aspect still cloudier, bade Ashtaroth laydown that look, and made signs as if he would resort to angriercompulsion; and the devil, alarmed, loosened his tongue, and said, "You have not told me what you desire to know of Rinaldo. "

"I desire to know what he has been doing, and where he is. "

"He has been conquering and baptizing the world, east and west, "said the demon, "and is now in Egypt with Ricciardetto. "

"And what has Gan been plotting with Marsilius?" inquiredMalagigi; "and what is to come of it?"

"I know not, " said the devil. "I was not attending to Gan at thetime, and we fallen spirits know not the future. All I discern isthat by the signs and comets in the heavens something dreadful isabout to happen--something very strange, treacherous, and bloody;and that Gan has a seat ready prepared for him in hell. "

"Within three days, " cried the enchanter, loudly, "bring Rinaldoand Ricciardetto into the pass of Ronces-Valles. Do it, and Ihereby undertake to summon thee no more. "

"Suppose they will not trust themselves with me?" said the spirit. 

"Enter Rinaldo's horse, and bring him, whether he trust thee ornot. "

"It shall be done, " returned the demon. 

There was an earthquake, and Ashtaroth disappeared. 

Marsilius now made his first movement towards the destruction ofOrlando, by sending before him his vassal, King Blanchardin, withhis presents of wines and other luxuries. The temperate butcourteous hero took them in good part, and distributed them as thetraitor wished; and then Blanchardin, on pretence of going forwardto salute Charlemagne, returned, and put himself at the head ofthe second army, which was the post assigned him by his liege-lord. King Falseron, whose son Orlando had slain in battle, headedthe first army, and King Balugante the third. Marsilius made aspeech to them, in which he let them into his design, andconcluded by recommending to their good will the son of his friendGan, whom they would know by the vest he had sent him, and who wasthe only soul amongst the Christian they were to spare. 

This son of Gan, meanwhile, and several of the paladins, whodistrusted the misbelievers, and were anxious at all events to bewith Orlando, had joined the hero in the fatal valley; so that thelittle Christian host, considering the tremendous valor of theirlord and his friends, were not to be sold for nothing. Rinaldo, alas! the second thunderbolt of Christendom, was destined not tobe there in time to meet the issue. The paladins in vain beggedOrlando to be on his guard against treachery, and send for a morenumerous body of men. The great heart of the Champion of the Faithwas unwilling to harbor suspicion as long as he could help it. Herefused to summon aid which might be superfluous; neither would hedo anything but what his liege-lord had directed. And yet he couldnot wholly repress a misgiving. A shadow had fallen on his heart, great and cheerful as it was. The anticipations of his friendsdisturbed him, in spite of the face with which he met them. Perhaps by a certain foresight he felt his death approaching; buthe felt bound not to encourage the impression. Besides, timepressed; the moment of the looked-for tribute was at hand, andlittle combinations of circumstances determine often the greatestevents. 

King Marsilius was to arrive early next day with the tribute, andOliver, with the morning sun, rode forth to reconnoitre, and seeif he could discover the peaceful pomp of the Spanish court in thedistance. He rode up the nearest height, and from the top of itbeheld the first army of Marsilius already forming in the passes. "O devil Gan, " he exclaimed, "this then is the consummation of thylabors!" Oliver put spurs to his horse, and galloped back down themountain to Orlando. 

"Well, " cried the hero, "what news?"

"Bad news, " said his cousin, "such as you would not hear ofyesterday. Marsilius is here in arms, and all the world is withhim. "

The paladins pressed round Orlando, and entreated him to sound hishorn, in token that he needed help. His only answer was to mounthis horse, and ride up the mountain with Sansonetto. 

As soon, however, as he cast forth his eyes, and beheld what wasround about him, he turned in sorrow, and looked down intoRoncesvalles, and said, "O miserable valley! the blood shed inthee this day will color thy name forever. "

Orlando's little camp were furious against the Saracens. Theyarmed themselves with the greatest impatience. There was nothingbut lacing of helmets and mounting of horses, while goodArchbishop Turpin went from rank to rank exhorting and encouragingthe warriors of Christ. Orlando and his captains withdrew for amoment to consultation. He fairly groaned for sorrow, and at firsthad not a word to say, so wretched he felt at having brought hispeople to die in Roncesvalles. Then he said: "If it had enteredinto my heart to conceive the king of Spain to be such a villainnever would you have seen this day. He has exchanged with me athousand courtesies and good words; and I thought that the worseenemies we had been before, the better friends we had become now. I fancied every human being capable of this kind of virtue on agood opportunity, saving, indeed, such base-hearted wretches ascan never forgive their very forgivers; and of these I did notsuppose him to be one. Let us die, if die we must, like honest andgallant men, so that it shall be said of us it was only our bodiesthat died. The reason why I did not sound the horn was partlybecause I thought it did not become us, and partly because ourliege lord could hardly save us, even if he heard it. " And withthese words Orlando sprang to his horse, crying, "Aways againstthe Saracens!" But he had no sooner turned his face than he weptbitterly, and said, "O Holy Virgin, think not of me, the sinnerOrlando, but have pity on these thy servants!"

And now with a mighty dust, and an infinite sound of horns andtambours, which came filling the valley, the first army of theinfidels made its appearance, horses neighing, and a thousandpennons flying in the air. King Falseron led them on, saying tohis officers: "Let nobody dare to lay a finger on Orlando. Hebelongs to myself. The revenge of my son's death is mine. I willcut the man down that comes between us. " "Now, friends, " saidOrlando, "every man for himself, and St. Michael for us all! Thereis not one here that is not a perfect knight. " And he might wellsay it, for the flower of all France was there, except Rinaldo andRicciardetto--every man a picked man, all friends and constantcompanions of Orlando. 

So the captains of the little troop and of the great army satlooking at one another, and singling one another out as the lattercame on, and then the knights put spear in rest, and ran for awhile two and two in succession, one against the other. 

Astolpho was the first to move. He ran against Arlotto of Sorio, and thrust his antagonist's body out of the saddle, and his soulinto the other world. Oliver encountered Malprimo, and, though hereceived a thrust which hurt him, sent his lance right through theheart of Malprimo. 

Falseron was daunted at this blow. "Truly, " thought he, "this is amarvel. " Oliver did not press on among the Saracens, his wound wastoo painful; but Orlando now put himself and his whole band inmotion, and you may guess what an uproar ensued. The sound of therattling of blows and helmets was as if the forge of Vulcan hadbeen thrown open. Falseron beheld Orlando coming so furiously, that he thought him a Lucifer who had burst his chain, and wasquite of another mind than when he purposed to have him all tohimself. On the contrary, he recommended himself to his gods, andturned away, meaning to wait for a more auspicious season ofrevenge. But Orlando hailed him with a terrible voice, saying, "Othou traitor! was this the end to which old quarrels were madeup?" Then he dashed at Falseron with a fury so swift, and at thesame time with a mastery of his lance so marvellous, that, thoughhe plunged it in the man's body so as instantly to kill him, andthen withdrew it, the body did not move in the saddle. The herohimself, as he rushed onwards, was fain to see the end of a strokeso perfect, and turning his horse back, touched the carcass withhis sword, and it fell on the instant!

When the infidels beheld their leader dead such fear fell uponthem that they were for leaving the field to the paladins, butthey were unable. Marsilius had drawn the rest of his forces roundthe valley like a net, so that their shoulders were turned invain. Orlando rode into the thick of them, and wherever he wentthunderbolts fell upon helmets. Oliver was again in the fray, withWalter and Baldwin, Avino and Avolio, while Arch-bishop Turpinhad changed his crosier for a lance, and chased a new flock beforehim to the mountains. 

Yet what could be done against foes without number? Marsiliusconstantly pours them in. The paladins are as units to thousands. Why tarry the horses of Rinaldo and Ricciardetto?

The horses did not tarry, but fate had been quicker thanenchantment. Ashtaroth had presented himself to Rinaldo in Egypt, and, after telling his errand, he and Foul-mouth, his servant, entered the horses of Rinaldo and Ricciardetto, which began toneigh, and snort, and leap with the fiends within them, till offthey flew through the air over the pyramids and across the desert, and reached Spain and the scene of action just as Marsiliusbrought up his third army. The two paladins on their horsesdropped right into the midst of the Saracens, and began makingsuch havoc among them that Marsilius, who overlooked the fightfrom a mountain, thought his soldiers had turned against oneanother. Orlando beheld it, and guessed it could be no other buthis cousins, and pressed to meet them. Oliver coming up at thesame moment, the rapture of the whole party is not to beexpressed. After a few hasty words of explanation they were forcedto turn again upon the enemy, whose numbers seemed perfectlywithout limit. 

Orlando, making a bloody passage towards Marsilius, struck a youthon the head, whose helmet was so strong as to resist the blow, butat the same time flew off, Orlando prepared to strike a secondblow, when the youth exclaimed, "Hold! you loved my father; I amBujaforte!" The paladin had never seen Bujaforte, but he saw thelikeness to the good old man, his father, and he dropped hissword. "O Bujaforte, " said he, "I loved him indeed; but what doeshis son do here fighting against his friends?"

Bujaforte could not at once speak for weeping. At length he said:"I am forced to be here by my lord and master, Marsilius; and Ihave made a show of fighting, but have not hurt a singleChristian. Treachery is on every side of you. Baldwin himself hasa vest given him by Marsilius, that everybody may know the son ofhis friend Gan, and do him no harm. "

"Put your helmet on again, " said Orlando, "and behave just as youhave done. Never will your father's friend be an enemy to theson. "

The hero then turned in fury to look for Baldwin, who washastening towards him at that moment, with friendliness in hislooks. 

"'Tis strange, " said Baldwin, "I have done my duty as well as Icould, yet nobody will come against me. I have slain right andleft, and cannot comprehend what it is that makes the stoutestinfidels avoid me. "

"Take off your vest, " said Orlando, contemptuously, "and you willsoon discover the secret, if you wish to know it. Your father hassold us to Marsilius, all but his honorable son. "

"If my father, " said Baldwin, impetuously tearing off the vest, "has been such a villain, and I escape dying, I will plunge thissword through his heart. But I am no traitor, Orlando, and you dome wrong to say it. Think not I can live with dishonor. "

Baldwin spurred off into the fight, not waiting to hear anotherword from Orlando, who was very sorry for what he had said, for heperceived that the youth was in despair. 

And now the fight raged beyond all it had done before; twentypagans went down for one paladin, but still the paladins fell. Sansonetto was beaten to earth by the club of Grandonio, Walterd'Amulion had his shoulder broken, Berlinghieri and Ottone wereslain, and at last Astolpho fell, in revenge of whose deathOrlando turned the spot where he died into a lake of Saracenblood. The luckless Bujaforte met Rinaldo, and before he couldexplain how he seemed to be fighting on the Saracen side receivedsuch a blow upon the head that he fell, unable to utter a word. Orlando, cutting his way to a spot where there was a greatstruggle and uproar, found the poor youth Baldwin, the son of Gan, with two spears in his breast. "I am no traitor now, " saidBaldwin, and those were the last words he said. Orlando wasbitterly sorry to have been the cause of his death, and tearsstreamed from his eyes. At length down went Oliver himself. He hadbecome blinded with his own blood, and smitten Orlando withoutknowing him. "How now, cousin, " cried Orlando, "have you too goneover to the enemy?" "O my lord and master, " cried the other, "Iask your pardon. I can see nothing; I am dying. Some traitor hasstabbed me in the back. If you love me, lead my horse into thethick of them, so that I may not die unavenged. "

"I shall die myself before long, " said Orlando, "out of very toiland grief; so we will go together. "

Orlando led his cousin's horse where the press was thickest, anddreadful was the strength of the dying man and his tiredcompanion. They made a street through which they passed out of thebattle, and Orlando led his cousin away to his tent, and said, "Wait a little till I return, for I will go and sound the horn onthe hill yonder. "

"'Tis of no use, " said Oliver, "my spirit is fast going anddesires to be with its Lord and Saviour. "

He would have said more, but his words came from him imperfectly, like those of a man in a dream, and so he expired. 

When Orlando saw him dead he felt as if he was alone on the earth, and he was quite willing to leave it, only he wished that KingCharles, at the foot of the mountains, should know how the casestood before he went. So he took up the horn and blew it threetimes, with such force that the blood burst out of his nose andmouth. Turpin says that at the third blast the horn broke in two. 

In spite of all the noise of the battle, the sound of the hornbroke over it like a voice out of the other world. They say thatbirds fell dead at it, and that the whole Saracen army drew backin terror. Charlemagne was sitting in the midst of his court whenthe sound reached him, and Gan was there. The Emperor was thefirst to hear it. 

"Do you hear that?" said he to his nobles. "Did you hear the hornas I heard it?"

Upon this they all listened, and Gan felt his heart misgive him. The horn sounded a second time. 

"What is the meaning of this?" said Charles. 

"Orlando is hunting, " observed Gan, "and the stag is killed. "

But when the horn sounded yet a third time, and the blast was oneof so dreadful a vehemence, everybody looked at the other, andthen they all looked at Gan in a fury. Charles rose from his seat. 

"This is no hunting of the stag, " said he. "The sound goes to myvery heart. O Gan! O Gan! Not for thee do I blush, but for myself. O foul and monstrous villain! Take him, gentleman, and keep him inclose prison. Would to God I had not lived to see this day!"

But it was no time for words. They put the traitor in prison andthen Charles, with all his court, took his way to Roncesvalles, grieving and praying. 

It was afternoon when the horn sounded, and half an hour after itwhen the Emperor set out; and meantime Orlando had returned to thefight that he might do his duty, however hopeless, as long as hecould sit his horse. At length he found his end approaching, fortoil and fever, and rode all alone to a fountain where he hadbefore quenched his thirst. His horse was wearier than he, and nosooner had his master alighted than the beast, kneeling down as ifto take leave, and to say, "I have brought you to a place ofrest, " fell dead at his feet. Orlando cast water on him from thefountain, not wishing to believe him dead; but when he found it tono purpose, he grieved for him as if he had been a human being, and addressed him by name with tears, and asked forgiveness if hehad ever done him wrong. They say that the horse, at these words, opened his eyes a little, and looked kindly at his master, andthen stirred never more. They say also that Orlando then summoningall his strength, smote a rock near him with his beautiful swordDurindana, thinking to shiver the steel in pieces, and so preventits falling into the hands of the enemy, but though the rock splitlike a slate, and a great cleft remained ever after to astonishthe eyes of pilgrims, the sword remained uninjured. 

And now Rinaldo and Ricciardetto came up, with Turpin, havingdriven back the Saracens, and told Orlando that the battle waswon. Then Orlando knelt before Turpin and begged remission of hissins, and Turpin gave him absolution. Orlando fixed his eyes onthe hilt of his sword as on a crucifix, and embraced it, and heraised his eyes and appeared like a creature seraphical andtransfigured, and bowing his head, he breathed out his pure soul. 

And now King Charles and his nobles came up. The Emperor, at sightof the dead Orlando, threw himself, as if he had been a recklessyouth, from his horse, and embraced and kissed the body, and said:"I bless thee, Orlando; I bless thy whole life, and all that thouwast, and all that thou ever didst, and the father that begatthee; and I ask pardon of thee for believing those who broughtthee to thine end. They shall have their reward, O thou belovedone! But indeed it is thou that livest, and I who am worse thandead. "

Horrible to the Emperor's eyes was the sight of the field ofRoncesvalles. The Saracens indeed had fled, conquered; but all hispaladins but two were left on it dead, and the whole valley lookedlike a great slaughter-house, trampled into blood and dirt, andreeking to the heat. Charles trembled to his heart's core forwonder and agony. After gazing dumbly on the place he cursed itwith a solemn curse, and wished that never grass might grow in itagain, nor seed of any kind, neither within it nor on any of itsmountains around, but the anger of Heaven abide over it forever. 

Charles and his warriors went after the Saracens into Spain. Theytook and fired Saragossa, and Marsilius was hung to the carob-treeunder which he had planned his villainy with Gan; and Gan was hungand drawn and quartered in Roncesvalles, amidst the execrations ofthe country. 

RINALDO AND BAYARD

CHARLEMAGNE was overwhelmed with grief at the loss of so many ofhis bravest warriors at the disaster of Roncesvalles, and bitterlyreproached himself for his credulity in resigning himself socompletely to the counsels of the treacherous Count Gan. Yet hesoon fell into a similar snare when he suffered his unworthy son, Charlot, to acquire such an influence over him, that he constantlyled him into acts of cruelty and injustice that in his right mindhe would have scorned to commit. Rinaldo and his brothers, forsome slight offence to the imperious young prince, were forced tofly from Paris, and to take shelter in their castle of Montalban;for Charles had publicly said, if he could take them he would hangthem all. He sent numbers of his bravest knights to arrest them, but all without success. Either Rinaldo foiled their efforts andsent them back, stripped of their armor and of their glory, or, after meeting and conferring with him, they came back and told theking they could not be his instruments for such a work. 

At last Charles himself raised a great army, and went in person tocompel the paladin to submit. He ravaged all the country roundabout Montalban, so that supplies of food should be cut off, andhe threatened death to any who should attempt to issue forth, hoping to compel the garrison to submit for want of food. 

Rinaldo's resources had been brought so low that it seemed uselessto contend any longer. His brothers had been taken prisoners in askirmish, and his only hope of saving their lives was in makingterms with the king. 

So he sent a messenger, offering to yield himself and his castleif the king would spare his and his brothers' lives. While themessenger was gone Rinaldo, impatient to learn what tidings hemight bring, rode out to meet him. When he had ridden as far as hethought prudent he stopped in a wood, and alighting, tied Bayardto a tree. Then he sat down, and, as he waited, he fell asleep. Bayard meanwhile got loose, and strayed away where the grasstempted him. Just then came along some country people, who said toone another, "Look, is not that the great horse Bayard thatRinaldo rides? Let us take him, and carry him to King Charles, whowill pay us well for our trouble. " They did so, and the king wasdelighted with his prize, and gave them a present that made themrich to their dying day. 

When Rinaldo woke he looked round for his horse, and, finding himnot, he groaned, and said, "O unlucky hour that I was born! howfortune persecutes me!" So desperate was he that he took off hisarmor and his spurs, saying, "What need have I of these, sinceBayard is lost?" While he stood thus lamenting, a man came fromthe thicket, seemingly bent with age. He had a long beard hangingover his breast, and eyebrows that almost covered his eyes. Hebade Rinaldo good day. Rinaldo thanked him, and said, "A good dayI have hardly had since I was born. " Then said the old man, "Signor Rinaldo, you must not despair, for God will make allthings turn to the best. " Rinaldo answered, "My trouble is tooheavy for me to hope relief. The king has taken my brothers, andmeans to put them to death. I thought to rescue them by means ofmy horse Bayard, but while I slept some thief has stolen him. " Theold man replied, "I will remember you and your brothers in myprayers. I am a poor man, have you not something to give me?"Rinaldo said, "I have nothing to give, " but then he recollectedhis spurs. He gave them to the beggar, and said, "Here, take myspurs. They are the first present my mother gave me when myfather, Count Aymon, dubbed me knight. They ought to bring you tenpounds. "

The old man took the spurs, and put them into his sack, and said, "Noble sir, have you nothing else you can give me?" Rinaldoreplied, "Are you making sport of me? I tell you truly if it werenot for shame to beat one so helpless, I would teach you bettermanners. " The old man said, "Of a truth, sir, if you did so youwould do a great sin. If all had beaten me of whom I have begged Ishould have been killed long ago, for I ask alms in churches andconvents, and wherever I can. " "You say true, " replied Rinaldo, "if you did not ask, none would relieve you. " The old man said, "True, noble sir, therefore I pray if you have anything more tospare, give it me. " Rinaldo gave him his mantle, and said, "Takeit, pilgrim. I give it you for the love of Christ, that God wouldsave my brothers from a shameful death, and help me to escape outof King Charles's power. "

The pilgrim took the mantle, folded it up, and put it into hisbag. Then a third time he said to Rinaldo, "Sir, have you nothingleft to give me that I may remember you in my prayers?" "Wretch!"exclaimed Rinaldo, "do you make me your sport?" and he drew hissword, and struck at him; but the old man warded off the blow withhis staff, and said, "Rinaldo, would you slay your cousin, Malagigi?" When Rinaldo heard that he stayed his hand, and gazeddoubtingly on the old man, who now threw aside his disguise, andappeared to be indeed Malagigi. "Dear cousin, " said Rinaldo, "prayforgive me. I did not know you. Next to God, my trust is in you. Help my brothers to escape out of prison, I entreat you. I havelost my horse, and therefore cannot render them any assistance. "Malagigi answered, "Cousin Rinaldo, I will enable you to recoveryour horse. Meanwhile, you must do as I say. "

Then Malagigi took from his sack a gown, and gave it to Rinaldo toput on over his armor, and a hat that was full of holes, and anold pair of shoes to put on. They looked like two pilgrims, veryold and poor. Then they went forth from the wood, and after alittle while saw four monks riding along the road. Malagigi saidto Rinaldo, "I will go meet the monks, and see what news I canlearn. "

Malagigi learned from the monks that on the approaching festivalthere would be a great crowd of people at court, for the princewas going to show the ladies the famous horse Bayard that used tobelong to Rinaldo. "What!" said the pilgrim; "is Bayard there?""Yes, " answered the monks; "the king has given him to Charlot, and, after the prince has ridden him the king means to passsentence on the brothers of Rinaldo, and have them hanged. " ThenMalagigi asked alms of the monks, but they would give him none, till he threw aside his pilgrim garb, and let them see his armor, when, partly for charity and partly for terror, they gave him agolden cup, adorned with precious stones that sparkled in thesunshine. 

Malagigi then hastened back to Rinaldo, and told him what he hadlearned. 

The morning of the feast-day Rinaldo and Malagigi came to theplace where the sports were to be held. Malagigi gave Rinaldo hisspurs back again, and said, "Cousin, put on your spurs, for youwill need them. " "How shall I need them, " said Rinaldo, "since Ihave lost my horse?" Yet he did as Malagigi directed him. 

When the two had taken their stand on the border of the fieldamong the crowd the princes and ladies of the court began toassemble. When they were all assembled the king came also, andCharlot with him, near whom the horse Bayard was led, in thecharge of grooms, who were expressly enjoined to guard him safely. The king, looking round on the circle of spectators, saw Malagigiand Rinaldo, and observed the splendid cup that they had, and saidto Charlot, "See, my son, what a brilliant cup those two pilgrimshave got. It seems to be worth a hundred ducats. " "That is true, "said Charlot; "Let us go and ask where they got it. " So they rodeto the place where the pilgrims stood, and Charlot stopped Bayardclose to them. 

The horse snuffed at the pilgrims, knew Rinaldo, and caressed hismaster. The king said to Malagigi, "Friend, where did you get thatbeautiful cup?" Malagigi replied, "Honorable sir, I paid for itall the money I have saved from eleven years' begging in churchesand convents. The Pope himself has blessed it, and given it thepower that whosoever eats or drinks out of it shall be pardoned ofall his sins. " Then said the king to Charlot, "My son, these areright holy men; see how the dumb beast worships them. "

Then the king said to Malagigi, "Give me a morsel from your cup, that I may be cleared of my sins. " Malagigi answered, "Illustriouslord, I dare not do it, unless you will forgive all who have atany time offended you. You know that Christ forgave all those whohad betrayed and crucified him. " The king replied, "Friend, thatis true; but Rinaldo has so grievously offended me, that I cannotforgive him, nor that other man, Malagigi, the magician. These twoshall never live in my kingdom again. If I catch them I willcertainly have them hanged. But tell me, pilgrim, who is that manwho stands beside you?" "He is deaf, dumb, and blind, " saidMalagigi. Then the king said again, "Give me to drink of your cup, to take away my sins. " Malagigi answered, "My lord king, here ismy poor brother, who for fifty days has not heard, spoken, norseen. This misfortune befell him in a house where we foundshelter, and the day before yesterday we met with a wise woman, who told him the only hope of a cure for him was to come to someplace where Bayard was to be ridden, and to mount and ride him;that would do him more good than anything else. " Then said theking, "Friend, you have come to the right place, for Bayard is tobe ridden here to-day. Give me a draught from your cup, and yourcompanion shall ride upon Bayard. " Malagigi, hearing these words, said, "Be it so. " Then the king, with great devotion, took aspoon, and dipped a portion from the pilgrim's cup, believing thathis sins should be thereby forgiven. 

When this was done, the king said to Charlot, "Son, I request thatyou will let this sick pilgrim sit on your horse, and ride if hecan, for by so doing he will be healed of all his infirmities. "Charlot replied, "That will I gladly do. " So saying, hedismounted, and the servants took the pilgrim in their arms, andhelped him on the horse. 

Wher Rinaldo was mounted, he put his feet in the stirrups, andsaid, "I would like to ride a little. " Malagigi, hearing himspeak, seemed delighted, and asked him whether he could see andhear also. "Yes, " said Rinaldo, "I am healed of all myinfirmities. " When the king heard it he said to Bishop Turpin, "Mylord bishop, we must celebrate this with a procession, withcrosses and banners, for it is a great miracle. "

When Rinaldo remarked that he was not carefully watched, he spoketo the horse, and touched him with the spurs. Bayard knew that hismaster was upon him, and he started off upon a rapid pace, and ina few moments was a good way off. Malagigi pretended to be ingreat alarm. "O noble king and master, " he cried, "my poorcompanion is run away with; he will fall and break his neck. " Theking ordered his knights to ride after the pilgrim, and bring himback, or help him if need were. They did so, but it was in vain. Rinaldo left them all behind him, and kept on his way till hereached Montalban. Malagigi was suffered to depart, unsuspected, and he went his way, making sad lamentation for the fate of hiscomrade, who he pretended to think must surely be dashed topieces. 

Malagigi did not go far, but having changed his disguise, returnedto where the king was, and employed his best art in getting thebrothers of Rinaldo out of prison. He succeeded; and all three gotsafely to Montalban, where Rinaldo's joy at the rescue of hisbrothers and the recovery of Bayard was more than tongue can tell. 

DEATH OF RINALDO

THE distress in Rinaldo's castle for want of food grew more severeevery day, under the pressure of the siege. The garrison wereforced to kill their horses, both to save the provision they wouldconsume, and to make food of their flesh. At last all the horseswere killed except Bayard, and Rinaldo said to his brothers, "Bayard must die, for we have nothing else to eat. " So they wentto the stable and brought out Bayard to kill him. But Alardo said, "Brother, let Bayard live a little longer; who knows what God maydo for us?"

Bayard heard these words, and understood them as if he was a man, and fell on his knees, as if he would beg for mercy. When Rinaldosaw the distress of his horse his heart failed him, and he let himlive. 

Just at this time Aya, Rinaldo's mother, who was the sister of theEmperor, came to the camp, attended by knights and ladies, tointercede for her sons. She fell on her knees before the king, andbesought him that he would pardon Rinaldo and his brothers: andall the peers and knights took her side, and entreated the king togrant her prayer. Then said the king, "Dear sister, you act thepart of a good mother, and I respect your tender heart, and yieldto your entreaties. I will spare your sons their lives if theysubmit implicitly to my will. "

When Charlot heard this he approached the king and whispered inhis ear. And the king turned to his sister and said, "Charlot musthave Bayard, because I have given the horse to him. Now go, mysister, and tell Rinaldo what I have said. "

When the Lady Aya heard these words she was delighted, thanked Godin her heart, and said, "Worthy king and brother, I will do as youbid me. " So she went into the castle, where her sons received hermost joyfully and affectionately, and she told them the king'soffer. Then Alardo said, "Brother, I would rather have the king'senmity than give Bayard to Charlot, for I believe he will killhim. " Likewise said all the brothers. When Rinaldo heard them hesaid, "Dear brothers, if we may win our forgiveness by giving upthe horse, so be it. Let us make our peace, for we cannot standagainst the king's power. " Then he went to his mother, and toldher they would give the horse to Charlot, and more, too, if theking would pardon them, and forgive all that they had done againsthis crown and dignity. The lady returned to Charles and told himthe answer of her sons. 

When the peace was thus made between the king and the sons ofAymon, the brothers came forth from the castle, bringing Bayardwith them, and, falling at the king's feet, begged hisforgiveness. The king bade them rise, and received them into favorin the sight of all his noble knights and counsellors, to thegreat joy of all, especially of the Lady Aya, their mother. ThenRinaldo took the horse Bayard, gave him to Charlot, and said, "Mylord and prince, this horse I give to you; do with him as to youseems good. " Charlot took him, as had been agreed on. Then he madethe servants take him to the bridge, and throw him into the water. Bayard sank to the bottom, but soon came to the surface again andswam, saw Rinaldo looking at him, came to land, ran to his oldmaster, and stood by him as proudly as if he had understanding, and would say, "Why did you treat me so?" When the prince saw thathe said, "Rinaldo, give me the horse again, for he must die. "Rinaldo replied, "My lord and prince, he is yours withoutdispute, " and gave him to him. The prince then had a millstonetied to each foot, and two to his neck, and made them throw himagain into the water. Bayard struggled in the water, looked up tohis master, threw off the stones, and came back to Rinaldo. 

When Alardo saw that, he said, "Now must thou be disgracedforever, brother, if thou give up the horse again. " But Rinaldoanswered, "Brother, be still. Shall I for the horse's life provokethe anger of the king again?" Then Alardo said, "Ah, Bayard! whata return do we make for all thy true love and service!" Rinaldogave the horse to the prince again, and said, "My lord, if thehorse comes out again I cannot return him to you any more, for itwrings my heart too much. " Then Chariot had Bayard loaded with thestones as before, and thrown into the water; and commanded Rinaldothat he should not stand where the horse would see him. WhenBayard rose to the surface he stretched his neck out of the waterand looked round for his master, but saw him not. Then he sunk tothe bottom. 

Rinaldo was so distressed for the loss of Bayard that he made avow to ride no horse again all his life long, nor to bind a swordto his side, but to become a hermit. He resolved to betake himselfto some wild wood, but first to return to his castle, to see hischildren, and to appoint to each his share of his estate. 

So he took leave of the king and of his brothers, and returned toMontalban, and his brothers remained with the king. Rinaldo calledhis children to him, and he made his eldest born, Aymeric, aknight, and made him lord of his castle and of his land. He gaveto the rest what other goods he had, and kissed and embraced themall, commended them to God, and then departed from them with aheavy heart. 

He had not travelled far when he entered a wood, and there metwith a hermit, who had long been retired from the world. Rinaldogreeted him, and the hermit replied courteously, and asked him whohe was and what was his purpose. Rinaldo replied, "Sir, I have leda sinful life; many deeds of violence have I done, and many menhave I slain, not always in a good cause, but often under theimpulse of my own headstrong passions. I have also been the causeof the death of many of my friends, who took my part, not becausethey thought me in the right, but only for love of me. And now Icome to make confession of all my sins, and to do penance for therest of my life, if perhaps the mercy of God will forgive me. " Thehermit said, "Friend, I perceive you have fallen into great sins, and have broken the commandments of God, but his mercy is greaterthan your sins; and if you repent from your heart, and lead a newlife, there is yet hope for you that he will forgive you what ispast. " So Rinaldo was comforted, and said, "Master, I will staywith you, and what you bid ane I will do. " The hermit replied, "Roots and vegetables will be your food; shirt or shoes you maynot wear; your lot must be poverty and want if you stay with me. "Rinaldo replied, "I will cheerfully bear all this, and more. " Sohe remained three whole years with the hermit, and after that hisstrength failed, and it seemed as if he was like to die. 

One night the hermit had a dream, and heard a voice from heaven, which commanded him to say to his companion that he must withoutdelay go to the Holy Land, and fight against the heathen. Thehermit, when he heard that voice, was glad, and calling Rinaldo, he said, "Friend, God's angel has commanded me to say to you thatyou must without delay go to Jerusalem, and help our fellow-Christians in their struggle with the Infidels. " Then saidRinaldo, "Ah! master, how can I do that? It is over three yearssince I made a vow no more to ride a horse, nor take a sword orspear in my hand. " The hermit answered, "Dear friend, obey God, and do what the angel commanded. " "I will do so, " said Rinaldo, "and pray for me, my master, that God may guide me right. " Then hedeparted, and went to the seaside, and took ship and came toTripoli in Syria. 

And as he went on his way his strength returned to him, till itwas equal to what it was in his best days. And though he nevermounted a horse, nor took a sword in his hand, yet with hispilgrim's staff he did good service in the armies of theChristians; and it pleased God that he escaped unhurt, though hewas present in many battles, and his courage inspired the men withthe same. At last a truce was made with the Saracens, and Rinaldo, now old and infirm, wishing to see his native land again before hedied, took ship and sailed for France. When he arrived he shunnedto go to the resorts of the great, and preferred to live among thehumble folk, where he was unknown. He did country work, and livedon milk and bread, drank water, and was therewith content. Whilehe so lived he heard that the city of Cologne was the holiest andbest of cities, on account of the relics and bodies of saints whohad there poured out their blood for the faith. This induced himto betake himself thither. When the pious hero arrived at Colognehe went to the monastery of St. Peter, and lived a holy life, occupied night and day in devotion. It so happened that at thattime in the next town to Cologne there raged a dreadfulpestilence. Many people came to Rinaldo, to beg him to pray forthem, that the plague might be stayed. The holy man prayedfervently, and besought the Lord to take away the plague from thepeople, and his prayer was heard. The stroke of the pestilence wasarrested, and all the people thanked the holy man and praised God. 

Now there was at this time at Cologne a bishop, called Agilolphus, who was a wise and understanding man, who led a pure and secludedlife, and set a good example to others. This bishop undertook tobuild the Church of St. Peter, and gave notice to all stonemasonsand other workmen round about to come to Cologne, where theyshould find work and wages. Among others came Rinaldo; and heworked among the laborers and did more than four or five commonworkmen. When they went to dinner he brought stone and mortar sothat they had enough for the whole day. When the others went tobed he stretched himself out on the stones. He ate bread only, anddrank nothing but water; and had for his wages but a penny a day. The head workman asked him his name, and where he belonged. Hewould not tell, but said nothing and pursued his work. They calledhim St. Peter's workman, because he was so devoted to his work. 

When the overseer saw the diligence of this holy man he chid thelaziness of the other workmen, and said, "You receive more paythan this good man, but do not do half as much work. " For thisreason the other workmen hated Rinaldo, and made a secretagreement to kill him. They knew that he made it a practice to goevery night to a certain church to pray and give alms. So theyagreed to lay wait for him, with the purpose to kill him. When hecame to the spot, they seized him, and beat him over the head tillhe was dead. Then they put his body into a sack, and stones withit, and cast it into the Rhine, in the hope the sack would sink tothe bottom, and be there concealed. But God willed not that itshould be so, but caused the sack to float on the surface, and bethrown upon the bank. And the soul of the holy martyr was carriedby angels, with songs of praise, up to the heavens. 

Now at that time the people of Dortmund had become converted tothe Christian faith; and they sent to the Bishop of Cologne, anddesired him to give them some of the holy relics that are in suchabundance in that city. So the Bishop called together his clergyto deliberate what answer they should give to this request. And itwas determined to give to the people of Dortmund the body of theholy man who had just suffered martyrdom. 

When now the body with the coffin was put on the cart, the cartbegan to move toward Dortmund without horses or help of men, andstopped not till it reached the place where the church of St. Rinaldo now stands. The Bishop and his clergy followed the holyman to do him honor, with singing of hymns, for a space of threemiles. And St. Rinaldo has ever since been the patron of thatplace, and many wonderful works has God done through him, as maybe seen in the legends. 

HUON OF BORDEAUX

WHEN Charlemagne grew old he felt the burden of government becomeheavier year by year, till at last he called together his highbarons and peers to propose to abdicate the empire and the throneof France in favor of his sons, Charlot and Lewis. 

The Emperor was unreasonably partial to his eldest son; he wouldhave been glad to have had the barons and peers demand Charlot fortheir only sovereign; but that prince was so infamous, for hisfalsehood and cruelty, that the council strenuously opposed theEmperor's proposal of abdicating, and implored him to continue tohold a sceptre which he wielded with so much glory. 

Amaury of Hauteville, cousin of Ganelon, and now head of thewicked branch of the house of Maganza, was the secret partisan ofCharlot, whom he resembled in his loose morals and baddispositions. Amaury nourished the most bitter resentment againstthe house of Guienne, of which the former Duke, Sevinus, had oftenrebuked his misdeeds. He took advantage of this occasion to do aninjury to the two young children whom the Duke Sevinus had leftunder the charge of the Duchess Alice, their mother; and at thesame time, to advance his interest with Charlot by increasing hiswealth and power. With this view he suggested to the prince a newidea. 

He pretended to agree with the opinion of the barons; he said thatit would be best to try Charlot's capacity for government bygiving him some rich provinces before placing him upon the throne;and that the Emperor, without depriving himself of any part of hisrealm, might give Charlot the investiture of Guienne. For althoughseven years had passed since the death of Sevinus, the young Duke, his son, had not yet repaired to the court of Charlemagne torender the homage due to his lawful sovereign. 

We have often had occasion to admire the justice and wisdom of theadvice which on all occasions the Duke Namo of Bavaria gave toCharlemagne, and he now discountenanced, with indignation, theselfish advice of Amaury. He represented to the Emperor the earlyage of the children of Sevinus, and the useful and gloriousservices of their late father, and proposed to Charlemagne to sendtwo knights to the Duchess at Bordeaux, to summon her two sons tothe court of the Emperor, to pay their respects and render homage. 

Charlemagne approved this advice, and sent two chevaliers todemand the two young princes of their mother. No sooner had theDuchess learned the approach of the two knights, than she sentdistinguished persons to receive them; and as soon as they enteredthe palace she presented herself before them, with her elder andyounger sons, Huon and Girard. 

The deputies, delighted with the honors and caresses theyreceived, accompanied with rich presents, left Bordeaux withregret and on their return represented to Charlemagne that theyoung Duke Huon seemed born to tread in the footsteps of his bravefather, informing him that in three months the young princes ofGuienne would present themselves at his court. 

The Duchess employed the short interval in giving her sons herlast instructions. Huon received them in his heart, and Girardgave as much heed to them as could be expected from one so young. 

The preparations for their departure having been made, the Duchessembraced them tenderly, commending them to the care of Heaven, andcharged them to call, on their way, at the celebrated monastery ofCluny, to visit the Abbot, the brother of their father. ThisAbbot, worthy of his high dignity, had never lost an opportunityof doing good, setting an example of every excellence, and makingvirtue attractive by his example. 

He received his nephews with the greatest magnificence; and, awarehow useful his presence might be to them with Charlemagne, whosevalued counsellor he was, he took with them the road to Paris. 

When Amaury learned what reception the two deputies of Charlemagnehad received at Bordeaux, and the arrangements made for the visitof the young princes to the Emperor's court, he suggested toCharlot to give him a troop of his guards, with which he proposedto lay wait for the young men in the wood of Montlery, put them todeath, and thereby give the prince Charlot possession of the duchyof Guienne. 

A plan of treachery and violence agreed but too well withCharlot's disposition. He not only adopted the suggestion ofAmaury, but insisted upon taking a part in it. They went outsecretly, by night, followed by a great number of attendants, allarmed in black, to lie in ambuscade in the wood where the brotherswere to pass. 

Girard, the younger of the two, having amused himself as he rodeby flying his hawk at such game as presented itself, had ridden inadvance of his brother and the Abbot of Cluny. Charlot, who sawhim coming, alone and unarmed, went forth to meet him, sought aquarrel with him, and threw him from his horse with a stroke ofhis lance. Girard uttered a cry as he fell; Huon heard it, andflew to his defence, with no other weapon than his sword. He cameup with him, and saw the blood flowing from his wound. "What hasthis child done to you, wretch!" he exclaimed to Charlot. "Howcowardly to attack him when unprepared to defend himself!" "By myfaith, " said Charlot, "I mean to do the same by you. Know that Iam the son of Duke Thierry of Ardennes, from whom your father, Sevinus, took three castles; I have sworn to avenge him, and Idefy you. " "Coward, " answered Huon, "I know well the baseness thatdwells in your race; worthy son of Thierry, use the advantage thatyour armor gives you; but know that I fear you not. " At thesewords Charlot had the wickedness to put his lance in rest, and torun upon Huon, who had barely time to wrap his arm in his mantle. With this feeble buckler he received the thrust of the lance. Itpenetrated the mantle, but missed his body. Then, rising upon hisstirrups, Sir Huon struck Charlot so terrible a blow with hissword that the helmet was cleft asunder, and his head too. Thedastardly prince fell dead upon the ground. 

Huon now perceived that the wood was full of armed men. He calledthe men of his suite, and they hastily put themselves in order, but nobody issued from the wood to attack him. Amaury, who sawCharlot's fall, had no desire to compromit himself; and, feelingsure that Charlemagne would avenge the death of his son, he saw nooccasion for his doing anything more at present. He left Huon andthe Abbot of Cluny to bind up the wound of Girard, and, havingseen them depart and resume their way to Paris, he took up thebody of Charlot, and, placing it across a horse, had it carried toParis, where he arrived four hours after Huon. 

The Abbot of Cluny presented his nephew to Charlemagne, but Huonrefrained from paying his obeisance, complaining grievously of theambush which had been set for him, which he said could not havebeen without the Emperor's permission. Charlemagne, surprised at acharge which his magnanimous soul was incapable of meriting, askedeagerly of the Abbot what were the grounds of the complaints ofhis nephew. The Abbot told him faithfully all that had happened, informing him that a coward knight, who called himself the son ofThierry of Ardennes, had wounded Girard, and run upon Huon, whowas unarmed; but by his force and valor he had overcome thetraitor, and left him dead upon the plain. 

Charlemagne indignantly disavowed any connection with the actionof the infamous Thierry, congratulated the young Duke upon hisvictory, himself conducted the two brothers to a rich apartment, stayed to see the first dressing applied to the wound of Girard, and left the brothers in charge of Duke Namo of Bavaria, who, having been a companion in arms of the Duke Sevinus, regarded theyoung men almost as if they were his own sons. 

Charlemagne had hardly quitted them when, returning to hischamber, he heard cries, and saw through the window a party ofarmed men just arrived. He recognized Amaury, who bore a deadknight stretched across a horse; and the name of Charlot was heardamong the exclamations of the people assembled in the court-yard. 

Charles's partiality for this unworthy son was one of hisweaknesses. He descended in trepidation to the court-yard, ran toAmaury, and uttered a cry of grief on recognizing Charlot. "It isHuon of Bordeaux, " said the traitor Amaury, "who has massacredyour son before it was in my power to defend him. " Charlemagne, furious at these words, seized a sword, and flew to the apartmentof the two brothers to plunge it into the heart of the murderer ofhis son. Duke Namo stopped his hand for an instant, while Charlestold him the crime of which Huon was accused. "He is a peer of therealm, " said Namo, "and if he is guilty, is he not here in yourpower, and are not we peers the proper judges to condemn him todeath? Let not your hand be stained with his blood. " The Emperor, calmed by the wisdom of Duke Namo, summoned Amaury to hispresence. The peers assembled to hear his testimony, and thetraitor accused Huon of Bordeaux of having struck the fatal blowwithout allowing Charlot an opportunity to defend himself, andthough he knew that his opponent was the Emperor's eldest son. 

The Abbot of Cluny, indignant at the false accusation of Amaury, advanced, and said, "By Saint Benedict, sire, the traitor lies inhis throat. If my nephew has slain Charlot it was in his owndefence, and after having seen his brother wounded by him, andalso in ignorance that his adversary was the prince. Though I am ason of the Church, " added the good Abbot, "I forget not that I ama knight by birth. I offer to prove with my body the lie uponAmaury, if he dares sustain it, and I shall feel that I am doing abetter work to punish a disloyal traitor, than to sing lauds andmatins. "

Huon to this time had kept silent, amazed at the black calumny ofAmaury; but now he stepped forth, and, addressing Amaury, said:"Traitor! darest thou maintain in arms the lie thou hast uttered?"Amaury, a knight of great prowess, despising the youth and slightfigure of Huon, hesitated not to offer his glove, which Huonseized; then, turning again to the peers, he said: "I pray you letthe combat be allowed me, for never was there a more legitimatecause. " The Duke Namo and the rest, deciding that the questionshould be remitted to the judgment of Heaven, the combat wasordained, to which Charlemagne unwillingly consented. The youngDuke was restored to the charge of Duke Namo, who the next morninginvested him with the honors of knighthood, and gave him armor ofproof, with a white shield. The Abbot of Cluny, delighted to findin his nephew sentiments worthy of his birth, embraced him, gavehim his blessing, and hastened to the church of St. Germains topray for him, while the officers of the king prepared the listsfor the combat. 

The battle was long and obstinate. The address and agility of Huonenabled him to avoid the terrible blows which the ferocious Amauryaimed at him. But Huon had more than once drawn blood from hisantagonist. The effect began to be perceived in the failingstrength of the traitor; at last he threw himself from his horse, and kneeling, begged for mercy. "Spare me, " he said, "and I willconfess all. Aid me to rise, and lead me to Charlemagne. " Thebrave and loyal Huon, at these words, put his sword under his leftarm, and stretched out his right to raise the prostrate man, whoseized the opportunity to give him a thrust in the side. Thehauberk of Huon resisted the blow, and he was wounded butslightly. Transported with rage at this act of baseness, he forgothow necessary for his complete acquittal the confession of Amaurywas, and without delay dealt him the fatal blow. 

Duke Namo and the other peers approached, had the body of Amaurydragged forth from the lists, and conducted Huon to Charlemagne. The Emperor, however, listening to nothing but his resentment andgrief for the death of his son, refused to be satisfied; and underthe plea that Huon had not succeeded in making his accuser retracthis charge seemed resolved to confiscate his estates and to banishhim forever from France. It was not till after long entreaties onthe part of Duke Namo and the rest that he consented to grant Huonhis pardon, under conditions which he should impose. 

Huon approached, and knelt before the Emperor, rendered hishomage, and cried him mercy for the involuntary killing of hisson. Charlemagne would not receive the hands of Huon in his own, but touched him with his sceptre, saying, "I receive thy homage, and pardon thee the death of my son, but only on one condition. You shall go immediately to the court of the Sultan Gaudisso; youshall present yourself before him as he sits at meat; you shallcut off the head of the most illustrious guest whom you shall findsitting nearest to him; you shall kiss three times on the mouththe fair princess, his daughter, and you shall demand of theSultan, as token of tribute to me, a handful of the white hair ofhis beard, and four grinders from his mouth. "

These conditions caused a murmur from all the assembly. "What!"said the Abbot of Cluny; "slaughter a Saracen prince without firstoffering him baptism?" "The second condition is not so hard, " saidthe young peers, "but the demand that Huon is bound to make of theold Sultan is very uncivil, and will be hard to obtain. "

The Emperor's obstinacy when he had once resolved upon a thing iswell known. To the courage of Huon nothing seemed impossible. "Iaccept the conditions, " said he, silencing the intercessions ofthe old Duke of Bavaria; "my liege, I accept my pardon at thisprice. I go to execute your commands, as your vassal and a peer ofFrance. "

The Duke Namo and Abbot of Cluny, being unable to obtain anyrelaxation of the sentence passed by Charlemagne, led forth theyoung Duke, who determined to set out at once on his expedition. All that the good Abbot could obtain of him was, that he shouldprepare for this perilous undertaking by going first to Rome, topay his homage to the Pope, who was the brother of the DuchessAlice, Huon's mother, and from him demand absolution and hisblessing. Huon promised it, and forthwith set out on his way toRome. 

HUON OF BORDEAUX (Continued)

HUON, having traversed the Apennines and Italy, arrived at theenvirons of Rome, where, laying aside his armor, he assumed thedress of a pilgrim. In this attire he presented himself before thePope, and not till after he had made a full confession of his sinsdid he announce himself as his nephew. "Ah! my dear nephew, "exclaimed the Holy Father, "what harder penance could I imposethan the Emperor has already done? Go in peace, my son, " he added, absolving him, "I go to intercede for you with the Most High. "Then he led his nephew into his palace, and introduced him to allthe Cardinals and Princes of Rome as the Duke of Guienne, son ofthe Duchess Alice, his sister. 

Huon, at setting out, had made a vow not to stop more than threedays in a place. The Holy Father took advantage of this time toinspire him with zeal for the glory of Christianity, and withconfidence in the protection of the Most High. He advised him toembark for Palestine, to visit the Holy Sepulchre, and to departthence for the interior of Asia. 

Loaded with the blessings of the Holy Father, Huon, obeying hiscounsels, embarked for Palestine, arrived, and visited with thegreatest reverence the holy places. He then departed, and took hisway toward the east. 

But, ignorant of the country and of the language, he lost himselfin a forest, and remained three days without seeing a humancreature, living on honey and wild fruits which he found on thetrees. The third day, seeking a passage through a rocky defile, hebeheld a man in tattered clothing, whose beard and hair coveredhis breast and shoulders. This man stopped on seeing him, observedhim, and recognized the arms and bearing of a French knight. Heimmediately approached, and exclaimed, in the language of theSouth of France, "God be praised! Do I indeed behold a chevalierof my own country, after fifteen years passed in this desertwithout seeing the face of a fellow-countryman?"

Huon, to gratify him still more, unlaced his helmet, and cametowards him with a smiling countenance. The other regarded himwith more surprise than at first. "Good Heaven!" he exclaimed, "was there ever such a resemblance? Ah, noble sir, " he added, "tell me, I beseech you, of what country and race you come?" "Irequire, " replied Huon, "before telling you mine, that you firstreveal your own; let it suffice you at present to know that I am aChristian, and that in Guienne I was born. " "Ah! Heaven grant thatmy eyes and my heart do not deceive me, " exclaimed the unknown;"my name is Sherasmin; I am brother to Guire, the Mayor ofBordeaux. I was taken prisoner in the battle where my dear andillustrious master, Sevinus, lost his life. For three years Iendured the miseries of slavery; at length I broke my chains andescaped to this desert, where I have sustained myself in solitudeever since. Your features recall to me my beloved sovereign, inwhose service I was from my infancy till his death. " Huon made noreply but by embracing the old man, with tears in his eyes. ThenSherasmin learned that his arms enfolded the son of the DukeSevinus. He led him to his cabin, and spread before him the dryfruits and honey which formed his only aliment. 

Huon recounted his adventures to Sherasmin, who was moved to tearsat the recital. He then consulted him on means of conducting hisenterprise. Sherasmin hesitated not to confess that success seemedimpossible; nevertheless he swore a solemn oath never to abandonhim. The Saracen language, which he was master of, would beserviceable to them when they should leave the desert, and minglewith men. 

They took the route of the Red Sea, and entered Arabia. Their waylay through a region which Sherasmin described as full of terrors. It was inhabited by Oberon, King of the Fairies, who made captivesuch knights as were rash enough to penetrate into it, andtransformed them into Hobgoblins. It was possible to avoid thisdistrict at the expense of somewhat lengthening their route; butno dangers could deter Huon of Bordeaux; and the brave Sherasmin, who had now resumed the armor of a knight, reluctantly consentedto share with him the dangers of the shorter route. 

They entered a wood, and arrived at a spot whence alleys branchedoff in various directions. One of them seemed to be terminated bya superb palace, whose gilded roofs were adorned with brilliantweathercocks covered with diamonds. A superb chariot issued fromthe gate of the palace, and drove toward Huon and his companion, as if to meet them half-way. The prince saw no one in the chariotbut a child apparently about five years old, very beautiful, andclad in a robe which glittered with precious stones. At the sightof him, Sherasmin's terror was extreme. He seized the reins ofHuon's horse, and turned him about, hurrying the prince away, andassuring him that they were lost if they stopped to parley withthe mischievous dwarf, who, though he appeared a child, was fullof years and of treachery. Huon was sorry to lose sight of thebeautiful dwarf, whose aspect had nothing in it to alarm; yet hefollowed his friend, who urged on his horse with all possiblespeed. Presently a storm began to roar through the forest, thedaylight grew dim, and they found their way with difficulty. Fromtime to time they seemed to hear an infantine voice, which said, "Stop, Duke Huon; listen to me: it is in vain you fly me!"

Sherasmin only fled the faster, and stopped not until he hadreached the gate of a monastery of monks and nuns, the twocommunities of which were assembled at that time in a religiousprocession. Sherasmin, feeling safe from the malice of the dwarfin the presence of so many holy persons and the sacred banners, stopped to ask an asylum, and made Huon dismount also. But at thatmoment they were joined by the dwarf, who blew a blast upon anivory horn which hung from his neck. Immediately the goodSherasmin, in spite of himself, began to dance like a youngcollegian, and seizing the hand of an aged nun, who felt as if itwould be her death, they footed it briskly over the grass, andwere imitated by all the other monks and nuns, mingled together, forming the strangest dancing-party ever beheld. Huron alone feltno disposition to dance; but he came near dying of laughter atseeing the ridiculous postures and leaps of the others. 

The dwarf, approaching Huon, said, in a sweet voice, and in Huon'sown language, "Duke of Guienne, why do you shun me? I conjure you, in Heaven's name, speak to me. " Huon, hearing himself addressed inthis serious manner, and knowing that no evil spirit would dare touse the holy name in aid of his schemes, replied, "Sir, whoeveryou are, I am ready to hear and answer you. " "Huon, my friend, "continued the dwarf, "I always loved your race, and you have beendear to me ever since your birth. The gracious state of consciencein which you were when you entered my wood has protected you fromall enchantments, even if I had intended to practise any upon you. If these monks, these nuns, and even your friend Sherasmin, hadhad a conscience as pure as yours, my horn would not have set themdancing; but where is the monk or the nun who can always be deafto the voice of the tempter, and Sherasmin in the desert has oftendoubted the power of Providence. "

At these words Huon saw the dancers overcome with exertion. Hebegged mercy for them, the dwarf granted it, and the effect of thehorn ceased at once; the nuns got rid of their partners, smoothedtheir dresses, and hastened to resume their places in theprocession. Sherasmin, overcome with heat, panting, and unable tostand on his legs, threw himself upon the grass, and began, "Didnot I tell you"--He was going on in an angry tone, but the dwarf, approaching, said, "Sherasmin, why have you murmured againstProvidence? Why have you thought evil of me? You deserved thislight punishment; but I know you to be good and loyal; I mean toshow myself your friend, as you shall soon see. " At these words hepresented him a rich goblet. "Make the sign of the cross on thiscup, " said he, "and then believe that I hold my power from the Godyou adore, whose faithful servant I am, as well as you. " Sherasminobeyed, and on the instant the cup was filled with delicious wine, a draught of which restored vigor to his limbs, and made him feelyoung again. Overcome with gratitude, he threw himself on hisknees, but the dwarf raised him, and bade him sit beside him, andthus commenced his history:

"Julius Caesar, going by sea to join his army, was driven by astorm to take shelter in the island of Celea, where dwelt thefairy Glorianda. From this renowned pair I draw my birth. I am theinheritor of that which was most admirable in each of my parents:my father's heroic qualities, and my mother's beauty and magicart. But a malicious sister of my mother's, in revenge for someslight offence, touched me with her wand when I was only fiveyears old, and forbade me to grow any bigger; and my mother, withall her power, was unable to annul the sentence. I have thuscontinued infantile in appearance, though full of years andexperience. The power which I derive from my mother I usesometimes for my own diversion, but always to promote justice andto reward virtue. I am able and willing to assist you, Duke ofGuienne, for I know the errand on which you come hither. I presagefor you, if you follow my counsels, complete success; and thebeautiful Clarimunda for a wife. "

When he had thus spoken he presented to Huon the precious anduseful cup, which had the faculty of filling itself when a goodman took it in his hand. He gave him also his beautiful horn ofivory, saying to him, "Huon, when you sound this gently, you willmake the hearers dance, as you have seen; but if you sound itforcibly, fear not that I shall hear it, though at a hundredleagues' distance, and will fly to your relief; but be careful notto sound it in that way, unless upon the most urgent occasion. "

Oberon directed Huon what course he should take to reach thecountry of the Sultan Gaudisso. "You will encounter great perils, "said he, "before arriving there, and I fear me, " he added, withtears in his eyes, "that you will not in everything obey mydirections, and in that case you will suffer much calamity. " Thenhe embraced Huon and Sherasmin, and left them. 

Huon and his follower travelled many days through the desertbefore they reached any inhabited place, and all this while thewonderful cup sustained them, furnishing them not only wine, butfood also. At last they came to a great city. As day wasdeclining, they entered its suburbs, and Sherasmin, who spoke theSaracen language perfectly, inquired for an inn where they couldpass the night. A person who appeared to be one of the principalinhabitants, seeing two strangers of respectable appearance makingthis inquiry, stepped forward and begged them to accept theshelter of his mansion. They entered, and their host did thehonors of his abode with a politeness which they were astonishedto see in a Saracen. He had them served with coffee and sherbet, and all was conducted with great decorum, till one of the servantsawkwardly overturned a cup of hot coffee on the host's legs, whenhe started up, exclaiming in very good Gascon, "Blood and thunder!you blockhead, you deserve to be thrown over the mosque!"

Huon could not help laughing to see the vivacity and the languageof his country thus break out unawares. The host, who had no ideathat his guests understood his words, was astonished when Huonaddressed him in the dialect of his country. Immediatelyconfidence was established between them; especially when thedomestics had retired. The host, seeing that he was discovered, and that the two pretended Saracens were from the borders of theGaronne, embraced them, and disclosed that he was a Christian. Huon, who had learned prudence from the advice of Oberon, to testhis host's sincerity, drew from his robe the cup which the Fairy-king had given him, and presented it empty to the host. "A faircup, " said he, "but I should like it better if it was full. "Immediately it was so. The host, astonished, dared not put it tohis lips. "Drink boldly, my dear fellow-countryman, " said Huon;"your truth is proved by this cup, which only fills itself in thehands of an honest man. " The host did not hesitate longer; the cuppassed freely from hand to hand; their mutual cordiality increasedas it passed, and each recounted his adventures. Those of Huonredoubled his host's respect; for he recognized in him hislegitimate sovereign: while the host's narrative was in thesewords:

"My name is Floriac; this great and strong city, you will hearwith surprise and grief, is governed by a brother of Duke Sevinus, and your uncle. You have no doubt heard that a young brother ofthe Duke of Guienne was stolen away from the sea-shore, with hiscompanions, by some corsairs. I was then his page, and we werecarried by those corsairs to Barbary, where we were sold forslaves. The Barbary prince sent us as part of the tribute which heyearly paid to his sovereign, the Sultan Gaudisso. Your uncle, whohad been somewhat puffed up by the flattery of his attendants, thought to increase his importance with his new master by tellinghim his rank. The Sultan, who, like a true Mussulman, detested allChristian princes, exerted himself from that moment to bring himover to the Saracen faith. He succeeded but too well. Your uncle, seduced by the arts of the Santons, and by the pleasures andindulgences which the Sultan allowed him, committed the horridcrime of apostasy; he renounced his baptism, and embracedMahometanism. Gaudisso then loaded him with honors, made himespouse one of his nieces, and sent him to reign over this cityand adjoining country. Your uncle preserved for me the samefriendship which he had had when a boy; but all his caresses andefforts could not make me renounce my faith. Perhaps he respectedme in his heart for my resistance to his persuasions, perhaps hehad hopes of inducing me in time to imitate him. He made meaccompany him to this city, of which he was master, he gave me hisconfidence, and permits me to keep in my service some Christians, whom I protect for the sake of their faith. "

"Ah!" exclaimed Huon, "take me to this guilty uncle. A prince ofthe house of Guienne, must he not blush at the cowardlyabandonment of the faith of his fathers?"

"Alas!" replied Floriac, "I fear he will neither be sensible ofshame at your reproaches, nor of pleasure at the sight of a nephewso worthy of his lineage. Brutified by sensuality, jealous of hispower, which he often exercises with cruelty, he will moreprobably restrain you by force or put you to death. "

"Be it so, " said the brave and fervent Huon, "I could not die in abetter cause; and I demand of you to conduct me to him to-morrow, after having told him of my arrival and my birth. " Floriac stillobjected, but Huon would take no denial, and he promisedobedience. 

Next morning Floriac waited upon the Governor and told him of thearrival of his nephew, Huon of Bordeaux; and of the intention ofthe prince to present himself at his court that very day. TheGovernor, surprised, did not immediately answer; though he at oncemade up his mind what to do. He knew that Floriac loved Christiansand the princes of his native land too well to aid in any treasonto one of them; he therefore feigned great pleasure at hearing ofthe arrival of the eldest born of his family at his court. Heimmediately sent Floriac to find him; he caused his palace to beput in festal array, his divan to be assembled, and after givingsome secret orders, went himself to meet his nephew, whom heintroduced under his proper name and title to all the greatofficers of his court. 

Huon burned with indignation at seeing his uncle with foreheadencircled with a rich turban, surmounted with a crescent ofprecious stones. His natural candor made him receive with pain theembraces which the treacherous Governor lavished upon him. Meanwhile the hope of finding a suitable moment to reproach himfor his apostasy made him submit to those honors which his unclecaused to be rendered to him. The Governor evaded with address thechance of being alone with Huon and spent all the morning intaking him through his gardens and palace. At last, when the hourof dinner approached, and the Governor took him by the hand tolead him into the dining-hall, Huon seized the opportunity andsaid to him in a low voice, "O my uncle! O Prince, brother of theDuke Sevinus! in what condition have I the grief and shame ofseeing you!" The Governor pretended to be moved, pressed his hand, and whispered in his ear, "Silence! my dear nephew; to-morrowmorning I will hear you fully. "

Huon, comforted a little by these words, took his seat at thetable by the side of the Governor. The Mufti, some Cadis, Agas, and Santons, filled the other places. Sherasmin sat down withthem; but Floriac, who would not lose sight of his guests, remained standing, and passed in and out to observe what was goingon within the palace. He soon perceived a number of armed mengliding through the passages and antechambers connected with thedining-hall. He was about to enter to give his guests notice ofwhat he had seen when he heard a violent noise and commotion inthe hall. The cause was this. 

Huon and Sherasmin were well enough suited with the first courseand ate with good appetite; but the people of their country notbeing accustomed to drink only water at their meals, Huon andSherasmin looked at one another, not very well pleased at such aregimen. Huon laughed outright at the impatience of Sherasmin, butsoon, experiencing the same want himself, he drew forth Oberon'scup and made the sign of the cross. The cup filled and he drank itoff, and handed it to Sherasmin, who followed his example. TheGovernor and his officers, seeing this abhorred sign, contractedtheir brows and sat in silent consternation. Huon pretended not toobserve it, and having filled the cup again handed it to hisuncle, saying, "Pray, join us, dear uncle; it is excellentBordeaux wine, the drink that will be to you like mother's milk. "The Governor, who often drank in secret with his own favoriteSultanas the wines of Greece and Shiraz, never in public drankanything but water. He had not for a long time tasted theexcellent wines of his native land; he was sorely tempted to drinkwhat was now handed to him, it looked so bright in the cup, outshining the gold itself. He stretched forth his hand, took thebrimming goblet, and raised it to his lips, when immediately itdried up and disappeared. Huon and Sherasmin, like Gascons as theywere, laughed at his astonishment. "Christian dogs!" he exclaimed, "do you dare to insult me at my own table? But I will soon berevenged. " At these words he threw the cup at the head of hisnephew, who caught it with his left hand, while with the other hesnatched the turban, with its crescent, from the Governor's headand threw it on the floor. All the Saracens started up from table, with loud outcries, and prepared to avenge the insult. Huon andSherasmin put themselves on their defence, and met with theirswords the scimitars directed against them. At this moment thedoors of the hall opened and a crowd of soldiers and armed eunuchsrushed in, who joined in the attack upon Huon and Sherasmin. ThePrince and his followers took refuge on a broad shelf or side-board, where they kept at bay the crowd of assailants, making themost forward of them smart for their audacity. But more troopscame pressing in and the brave Huon, inspired by the wine ofBordeaux, and not angry enough to lose his relish for a joke, blewa gentle note on his horn, and no sooner was it heard than itquelled the rage of the combatants and set them to dancing. Huonand Sherasmin, no longer attacked, looked down from their elevatedposition on a scene the most singular and amusing. Very soon theSultanas, hearing the sound of the dance and finding their guardswithdrawn, came into the hall and mixed with the dancers. Thefavorite Sultana seized upon a young Santon, who performed jumpstwo feet high; but soon the long dresses of this couple gotintermingled and threw them down. The Santon's beard was caught inthe Sultana's necklace, and they could not disentangle them. TheGovernor by no means approved this familiarity, and took two stepsforward to get at the Santon, but he stumbled over a prostrateDervise and measured his length on the floor. The dancingcontinued till the strength of the performers was exhausted, andthey fell, one after the other, and lay helpless. The Governor atlength made signs to Huon that he would yield everything if hewould but allow him to rest. The bargain was ratified; theGovernor allowed Huon and Sherasmin to depart on their way, andeven gave them a ring which would procure them safe passagethrough his country and access to the Sultan Gaudisso. The twofriends hastened to avail themselves of this favorable turn, andtaking leave of Floriac, pursued their journey. 

HUON OF BORDEAUX (Continued)

HUON had seen many beauties at his mother's court, but his hearthad never been touched with love. Honor had been his mistress, andin pursuit of that he had never found time to give a thought tosofter cares. Strange that a heart so insensible should first betouched by something so unsubstantial as a dream; but so it was. 

The day after the adventure with his uncle night overtook thetravellers as they passed through a forest. A grotto offered themshelter from the night dews. The magic cup supplied their eveningmeal; for such was its virtue that it afforded not only wine, butmore solid fare when desired. Fatigue soon threw them intoprofound repose. Lulled by the murmur of the foliage, andbreathing the fragrance of the flowers, Huon dreamed that a ladymore beautiful than he had ever before seen hung over him andimprinted a kiss upon his lips. As he stretched out his arms toembrace her a sudden gust of wind swept her away. 

Huon awoke in an agony of regret. A few moments sufficed to affordsome consolation in showing him that what had passed was but adream; but his perplexity and sadness could not escape the noticeof Sherasmin. Huon hesitated not to inform his faithful followerof the reason of his pensiveness; and got nothing in return buthis rallyings for allowing himself to be disturbed by such acause. He recommended a draught from the fairy goblet, and Huontried it with good effect. 

At early dawn they resumed their way. They travelled till highnoon, but said little to one another. Huon was musing on hisdream, and Sherasmin's thoughts flew back to his early days on thebanks of the flowery Garonne. 

On a sudden they were startled by the cry of distress, and turningan angle of the wood, came where a knight hard pressed wasfighting with a furious lion. The knight's horse lay dead, and itseemed as if another moment would end the combat, for terror andfatigue had quite disabled the knight for further resistance. Hefell, and the lion's paw was raised over him, when a blow fromHuon's sword turned the monster's rage upon a new enemy. His roarshook the forest, and he crouched in act to spring, when, with therapidity of lightning, Huon plunged his sword into his side. Herolled over on the plain in the agonies of death. 

They raised the knight from the ground, and Sherasmin hastened tooffer him a draught from the fairy cup. The wine sparkled to thebrim, and the warrior put forth his lips to quaff it, but itshrunk away, and did not even wet his lips. He dashed the gobletangrily on the ground, with an exclamation of resentment. Thisincident did not tend to make either party more acceptable to theother; and what followed was worse. For when Huon said, "Sirknight, thank God for your deliverance, "--"Thank Mahomet, rather, yourself, " said he, "for he has led you this day to render serviceto no less a personage than the Prince of Hyrcania. "

At the sound of this blasphemy Huon drew his sword and turned uponthe miscreant, who, little disposed to encounter the prowess ofwhich he had so lately seen proof, betook himself to flight. Heran to Huon's horse, and lightly vaulting on his back, clappedspurs to his side, and galloped out of sight. 

The adventure was vexatious, yet there was no remedy. The princeand Sherasmin continued their journey with the aid of theremaining horse as they best might. At length, as evening set in, they descried the pinnacles and towers of a great city full beforethem, which they knew to be the famous city of Bagdad. 

They were well-nigh exhausted with fatigue when they arrived atits precincts, and in the darkness, not knowing what course totake, were glad to meet an aged woman, who, in reply to theirinquiries, offered them such accommodations as her cottage couldsupply. They thankfully accepted the offer, and entered the lowdoor. The good dame busily prepared the best fare her storessupplied, --milk, figs, and peaches, --deeply regretting that thebleak winds had nipped her almond-trees. 

Sir Huon thought he had never in his life tasted any fare so good. The old lady talked while her guests ate. She doubted not, shesaid, they had come to be present at the great feast in honor ofthe marriage of the Sultan's daughter, which was to take place onthe morrow. They asked who the bridegroom was to be, and the oldlady answered, "The Prince of Hyrcania, " but added, "Our princesshates him, and would rather wed a dragon than him. " "How know youthat?" asked Huon; and the dame informed him that she had it fromthe princess herself, who was her foster-child. Huon inquired thereason of the princess's aversion; and the woman pleased to findher chat excite so much interest, replied that it was all inconsequence of a dream. "A dream!" exclaimed Huon. "Yes! a dream. She dreamed that she was a hind, and that the Prince, as a hunter, was pursuing her, and had almost overtaken her, when a beautifuldwarf appeared in view, drawn in a golden car, having by his sidea young man of yellow hair and fair complexion, like one from aforeign land. She dreamed that the car stopped where she stood, and that, having resumed her own form, she was about to ascend it, when suddenly it faded from her view, and with it the dwarf andthe fair-haired youth. But from her heart that vision did notfade, and from that time her affianced bridegroom, the Hyrcanianprince, had become odious to her sight. Yet the Sultan, herfather, by no means regarding such a cause as sufficient toprevent the marriage, had named the morrow as the time when itshould be solemnized, in presence of his court and many princes ofthe neighboring countries, whom the fame of the princess's beautyand the bridegroom's splendor had brought to the scene. "

We may suppose this conversation woke a tumult of thoughts in thebreast of Huon. Was it not clear that Providence led him on, andcleared the way for his happy success? Sleep did not early visitthe eyes of Huon that night; but, with the sanguine temper ofyouth, he indulged his fancy in imagining the sequel of hisstrange experience. 

The next day, which he could not but regard as the decisive day ofhis fate, he prepared to deliver the message of Charlemagne. Cladin his armor, fortified with his ivory horn and his ring, hereached the palace of Gaudisso when the guests were assembled atthe banquet. As he approached the gate a voice called on all truebelievers to enter; and Huon, the brave and faithful Huon, in hisimpatience passed in under that false pretention. He had no soonerpassed the barrier than he felt ashamed of his baseness, and wasoverwhelmed with regret. To make amends for his fault he ranforward to the second gate, and cried to the porter, "Dog of amisbeliever, I command you in the name of Him who died on thecross, open to me!" The points of a hundred weapons immediatelyopposed his passage. Huon then remembered for the first time thering he had received from his uncle, the Governor. He produced it, and demanded to be led to the Sultan's presence. The officer ofthe guard recognized the ring, made a respectful obeisance, andallowed him free entrance. In the same way he passed the otherdoors to the rich saloon where the great Sultan was at dinner withhis tributary princes. At sight of the ring the chief attendantled Huon to the head of the hall, and introduced him to the Sultanand his princes as the ambassador of Charlemagne. A seat wasprovided for him near the royal party. 

The Prince of Hyrcania, the same whom Huon had rescued from thelion, and who was the destined bridegroom of the beautifulClarimunda, sat on the Sultan's right hand, and the princessherself on his left. It chanced that Huon found himself near theseat of the princess, and hardly were the ceremonies of receptionover before he made haste to fulfill the commands of Charlemagneby imprinting a kiss upon her rosy lips, and after that a second, not by command, but by good will. The Prince of Hyrcania criedout, "Audacious infidel! take the reward of thy insolence!" andaimed a blow at Huon, which, if it had reached him, would havebrought his embassy to a speedy termination. But the ingratefailed of his aim, and Huon punished his blasphemy and ingratitudeat once by a blow which severed his head from his body. 

So suddenly had all this happened that no hand had been raised toarrest it; but now Gaudisso cried out, "Seize the murderer!" Huonwas hemmed in on all sides, but his redoubtable sword kept thecrowd of courtiers at bay. But he saw new combatants enter, andcould not hope to maintain his ground against so many. Herecollected his horn, and raising it to his lips, blew a blastalmost as loud as that of Roland at Roncesvalles. It was in vain. Oberon heard it; but the sin of which Huon had been guilty inbearing, though but for a moment, the character of a believer inthe false prophet, had put it out of Oberon's power to help him. Huon, finding himself deserted, and conscious of the cause, losthis strength and energy, was seized, loaded with chains, andplunged into a dungeon. 

His life was spared for the time, merely that he might be reservedfor a more painful death. The Sultan meant that, after being madeto feel all the torments of hunger and despair, he should beflayed alive. 

But an enchanter more ancient and more powerful than Oberonhimself interested himself for the brave Huon. The enchanter wasLove. The Princess Clarimunda learned with horror the fate towhich the young prince was destined. By the aid of her governanteshe gained over the keeper of the prison, and went herself tolighten the chains of her beloved. It was her hand that removedhis fetters, from her he received supplies of food to sustain alife which he devoted from thenceforth wholly to her. After themost tender explanations the princess departed, promising torepeat her visit on the morrow. 

The next day she came according to promise, and again broughtsupplies of food. These visits were continued during a wholemonth. Huon was too good a son of the Church to forget that theamiable princess was a Saracen, and he availed himself of theseinterviews to instruct her in the true faith. How easy it is tobelieve the truth when uttered by the lips of those we love!Clarimunda ere long professed her entire belief in the Christiandoctrines, and desired to be baptized. 

Meanwhile the Sultan had repeatedly inquired of the jailer how hisprisoner bore the pains of famine, and learned to his surprisethat he was not yet much reduced thereby. On his repeating theinquiry, after a short interval, the keeper replied that theprisoner had died suddenly, and had been buried in the cavern. TheSultan could only regret that he had not sooner ordered theexecution of the sentence. 

While these things were going on the faithful Sherasmin, who hadnot accompanied Huon in his last adventure, but had learned bycommon rumor the result of it, came to the court in hopes of doingsomething for the rescue of his master. He presented himself tothe Sultan as Solario, his nephew. Guadisso received him withkindness, and all the courtiers loaded him with attentions. Hesoon found means to inform himself how the Princess regarded thebrave but unfortunate Huon, and having made himself known to her, confidence was soon established between them. Clarimunda readilyconsented to assist in the escape of Huon, and to quit with himher father's court to repair to that of Charlemagne. Their unitedefforts had nearly perfected their arrangement, a vessel wassecretly prepared, and all things in forwardness for the flight, when an unlooked-for obstacle presented itself. Huon himselfpositively refused to go leaving the orders of Charlemagneunexecuted. 

Sherasmin was in despair. Bitterly he complained of the ficklenessand cruelty of Oberon in withdrawing his aid at the very crisiswhen it was most necessary. Earnestly he urged every argument tosatisfy the prince that he had done enough for honor, and couldnot be held bound to achieve impossibilities. But all was of noavail, and he knew not which way to turn, when one of those eventsoccurred which are so frequent under Turkish despotisms. A courierarrived at the court of the Sultan, bearing the ring of hissovereign, the mighty Agrapard, Caliph of Arabia, and bringing thebow-string for the neck of Gaudisso. No reason was assigned; nonebut the pleasure of the Caliph is ever required in such cases; butit was suspected that the bearer of the bow-string had persuadedthe Caliph that Gaudisso, whose rapacity was well known, hadaccumulated immense treasures, which he had not duly shared withhis sovereign, and thus had obtained an order to supersede him inhis Emirship. 

The body of Gaudisso would have been cast out a prey to dogs andvultures, had not Sherasmin, under the character of nephew of thedeceased, been permitted to receive it, and give it decent burial, which he did, but not till he had taken possession of the beardand grinders, agreeably to the orders of Charlemagne. 

No obstacle now stood in the way of the lovers and their faithfulfollower in returning to France. They sailed, taking Rome in theirway, where the Holy Father himself blessed the union of hisnephew, Duke Huon of Bordeaux, with the Princess Clarimunda. 

Soon afterward they arrived in France, where Huon laid histrophies at the feet of Charlemagne, and, being restored to thefavor of the Emperor, hastened to present himself and his bride tothe Duchess, his mother, and to the faithful liegemen of hisprovince of Guienne and his city of Bordeaux, where the pair werereceived with transports of joy. 

OGIER, THE DANE

OGIER, the Dane, was the son of Geoffrey, who wrested Denmark fromthe Pagans, and reigned the first Christian king of that country. When Ogier was born, and before he was baptized, six ladies ofravishing beauty appeared all at once in the chamber of theinfant. They encircled him, and she who appeared the eldest tookhim in her arms, kissed him, and laid her hand upon his heart. "Igive you, " said she, "to be the bravest warrior of your times. "She delivered the infant to her sister, who said, "I give youabundant opportunities to display your valor. " "Sister, " said thethird lady, "you have given him a dangerous boon; I give him thathe shall never be vanquished. " The fourth sister added, as shelaid her hand upon his eyes and his mouth, "I give you the gift ofpleasing. " The fifth said, "Lest all these gifts serve only tobetray, I give you sensibility to return the love you inspire. "Then spoke Morgana, the youngest and handsomest of the group. "Charming creature, I claim you for my own; and I give you not todie till you shall have come to pay me a visit in my isle ofAvalon. " Then she kissed the child and departed with her sisters. 

After this the king had the child carried to the font and baptizedwith the name of Ogier. 

In his education nothing was neglected to elevate him to thestandard of a perfect knight, and render him accomplished in allthe arts necessary to make him a hero. 

He had hardly reached the age of sixteen years when Charlemagne, whose power was established over all the sovereigns of his time, recollected that Geoffroy, Ogier's father, had omitted to renderthe homage due to him as Emperor, and sovereign lord of Denmark, one of the grand fiefs of the empire. He accordingly sent anembassy to demand of the king of Denmark this homage, and onreceiving a refusal, couched in haughty terms, sent an army toenforce the demand. Geoffroy, after an unsuccessful resistance, was forced to comply, and as a pledge of his sincerity deliveredOgier, his eldest son, a hostage to Charles, to be brought up athis court. He was placed in charge of the Duke Namo of Bavaria, the friend of his father, who treated him like his own son. 

Ogier grew up more and more handsome and amiable every day. Hesurpassed in form, strength, and address all the noble youths hiscompanions; he failed not to be present at all tourneys; he wasattentive to the elder knights, and burned with impatience toimitate them. Yet his heart rose sometimes in secret against hiscondition as a hostage, and as one apparently forgotten by hisfather. 

The King of Denmark, in fact, was at this time occupied with newloves. Ogier's mother having died, he had married a second wife, and had a son named Guyon. The new queen had absolute power overher husband, and fearing that, if he should see Ogier again, hewould give him the preference over Guyon, she had adroitlypersuaded him to delay rendering his homage to Charlemagne, tillnow four years had passed away since the last renewal of thatceremony. Charlemagne, irritated at this delinquency, drew closerthe bonds of Ogier's captivity until he should receive a responsefrom the king of Denmark to a fresh summons which he caused to besent to him. 

The answer of Geoffroy was insulting and defiant, and the rage ofCharlemagne was roused in the highest degree. He was at firstdisposed to wreak his vengeance upon Ogier, his hostage; but atthe entreaties of Duke Namo, who felt towards his pupil like afather, consented to spare his life, if Ogier would swear fidelityto him as his liege-lord, and promise not to quit his courtwithout his permission. Ogier accepted these terms, and wasallowed to retain all the freedom he had before enjoyed. 

The Emperor would have immediately taken arms to reduce hisdisobedient vassal, if he had not been called off in anotherdirection by a message from Pope Leo, imploring his assistance. The Saracens had landed in the neighborhood of Rome, occupiedMount Janiculum, and prepared to pass the Tiber and carry fire andsword to the capital of the Christian world. Charlemagne hesitatednot to yield to the entreaties of the Pope. He speedily assembledan army, crossed the Alps, traversed Italy, and arrived atSpoleto, a strong place to which the Pope had retired. Leo, at thehead of his Cardinals, advanced to meet him, and rendered himhomage, as to the son of Pepin, the illustrious protector of theHoly See, coming, as his father had done, to defend it in the hourof need. 

Charlemagne stopped but two days at Spoleto, and learning that theInfidels, having rendered themselves masters of Rome, werebesieging the Capitol, which could not long hold out against them, marched promptly to attack them. 

The advanced posts of the army were commanded by Duke Namo, onwhom Ogier waited as his squire. He did not yet bear arms, nothaving received the order of knighthood. The Oriflamme, the royalstandard, was borne by a knight named Alory, who showed himselfunworthy of the honor. 

Duke Namo, seeing a strong body of the Infidels advancing toattack him, gave the word to charge them. Ogier remained in therear, with the other youths, grieving much that he was notpermitted to fight. Very soon he saw Alory lower the Oriflamme, and turn his horse in flight. Ogier pointed him out to the youngmen, and seizing a club, rushed upon Alory and struck him from hishorse. Then, with his companions, he disarmed him, clothed himselfin his armor, raised the Oriflamme, and mounting the horse of theunworthy knight, flew to the front rank, where he joined DukeNamo, drove back the Infidels, and carried the Oriflamme quitethrough their broken ranks. The Duke, thinking it was Alory, whomhe had not held in high esteem, was astonished at his strength andvalor. Ogier's young companions imitated him, supplying themselveswith armor from the bodies of the slain; they followed Ogier andcarried death into the ranks of the Saracens, who fell back inconfusion upon their main body. 

Duke Namo now ordered a retreat, and Ogier obeyed with reluctance, when they perceived Charlemagne advancing to their assistance. Thecombat now became general, and was more terrible than ever. Charlemagne had overthrown Corsuble, the commander of theSaracens, and had drawn his famous sword, Joyeuse, to cut off hishead, when two Saracen knights set upon him at once, one of whomslew his horse, and the other overthrew the Emperor on the sand. Perceiving by the eagle on his casque who he was, they dismountedin haste to give him his deathblow. Never was the life of theEmperor in such peril. But Ogier, who saw him fall, flew to hisrescue. Though embarrassed with the Oriflamme, he pushed his horseagainst one of the Saracens and knocked him down; and with hissword dealt the other so vigorous a blow that he fell stunned tothe earth. Then helping the Emperor to rise, he remounted him onthe horse of one of the fallen knights. "Brave and generousAlory!" Charles exclaimed, "I owe to you my honor and my life!"Ogier made no answer; but, leaving Charlemagne surrounded by agreat many of the knights who had flown to his succor, he plungedinto the thickest ranks of the enemy, and carried the Oriflamme, followed by a gallant train of youthful warriors, till thestandard of Mahomet turned in retreat, and the Infidels soughtsafety in their intrenchments. 

Then the good Archbishop Turpin laid aside his helmet and hisbloody sword (for he always felt that he was clearly in the lineof his duty while slaying Infidels), took his mitre and hiscrosier, and intoned Te Deum. 

At this moment Ogier, covered with blood and dust, came to lay theOriflamme at the feet of the Emperor. He was followed by a trainof warriors of short stature, who walked ill at ease loaded witharmor too heavy for them. Ogier knelt at the feet of Charlemagne, who embraced him, calling him Alory, while Turpin from the heightof the altar, blessed him with all his might. Then young Orlando, son of the Count Milone, and nephew of Charlemagne, no longer ableto endure this misapprehension, threw down his helmet, and ran tounlace Ogier's, while the other young men laid aside theirs. Ourauthor says he cannot express the surprise, the admiration, andthe tenderness of the Emperor and his peers. Charles folded Ogierin his arms, and the happy fathers of those brave youths embracedthem with tears of joy. The good Duke Namo stepped forward, andCharlemagne yielded Ogier to his embrace. "How much do I owe you, "he said, "good and wise friend, for having restrained my anger! Mydear Ogier! I owe you my life! My sword leaps to touch yourshoulder, yours and those of your brave young friends. " At thesewords he drew that famous sword, Joyeuse, and while Ogier and therest knelt before him, gave them the accolade conferring on themthe order of knighthood. The young Orlando and his cousin Olivercould not refrain, even in the presence of the Emperor, fromfalling upon Ogier's neck, and pledging with him that brotherhoodin arms, so dear and so sacred to the knights of old times; butCharlot, the Emperor's son, at the sight of the glory with whichOgier had covered himself, conceived the blackest jealousy andhate. 

The rest of the day and the next were spent in the rejoicings ofthe army. Turpin in a solemn service implored the favor of Heavenupon the youthful knights, and blessed the white armor which wasprepared for them. Duke Namo presented them with golden spurs, Charles himself girded on their swords. But what was hisastonishment when he examined that intended for Ogier! The lovingFairy, Morgana, had had the art to change it, and to substituteone of her own procuring, and when Charles drew it out of thescabbard, these words appeared written on the steel: "My name isCortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durindana. "Charles saw that a superior power watched over the destinies ofOgier; he vowed to love him as a father would, and Ogier promisedhim the devotion of a son. Happy had it been for both if they hadalways continued mindful of their promises. 

The Saracen army had hardly recovered from its dismay whenCarahue, King of Mauritania, who was one of the knights overthrownby Ogier at the time of the rescue of Charlemagne, determined tochallenge him to single combat. With that view he assumed thedress of a herald, resolved to carry his own message. The Frenchknights admired his air, and said to one another that he seemedmore fit to be a knight than a bearer of messages. 

Carahue began by passing the warmest eulogium upon the knight whobore the Oriflamme on the day of the battle, and concluded bysaying that Carahue, King of Mauritania, respected that knight somuch that he challenged him to the combat. 

Ogier had risen to reply, when he was interrupted by Charlot, whosaid that the gage of the King of Mauritania could not fitly bereceived by a vassal, living in captivity; by which he meantOgier, who was at that time serving as hostage for his father. Fire flashed from the eyes of Ogier, but the presence of theEmperor restrained his speech, and he was calmed by the kind looksof Charlemagne, who said, with an angry voice, "Silence, Charlot!By the life of Bertha, my queen, he who has saved my life is asdear to me as yourself. Ogier, " he continued, "you are no longer ahostage. Herald! report my answer to your master, that never doesknight of my court refuse a challenge on equal terms. Ogier, theDane, accepts of his, and I myself am his security. "

Carahue, profoundly bowing, replied, "My lord, I was sure that thesentiments of so great a sovereign as yourself would be worthy ofyour high and brilliant fame; I shall report your answer to mymaster, who I know admires you, and unwillingly takes arms againstyou. " Then, turning to Charlot, whom he did not know as the son ofthe Emperor, he continued, "As for you, Sir Knight, if the desireof battle inflames you, I have it in charge from Sadon, cousin ofthe King of Mauritania, to give the like defiance to any Frenchknights who will grant him the honor of the combat. "

Charlot, inflamed with rage and vexation at the public reproofwhich he had just received, hesitated not to deliver his gage. Carahue received it with Ogier's, and it was agreed that thecombat should be on the next day in a meadow environed by woodsand equally distant from both armies. 

The perfidious Charlot meditated the blackest treason. During thenight he collected some knights unworthy of the name, and likehimself in their ferocious manners; he made them swear to avengehis injuries, armed them in black armor, and sent them to lie inambush in the wood, with orders to make a pretended attack uponthe whole party, but in fact, to lay heavy hands upon Ogier andthe two Saracens. 

At the dawn of day Sadon and Carahue, attended tonly by two pagesto carry their spears, took their way to the appointed meadow; andCharlot and Ogier repaired thither also, but by different paths. Ogier advanced with a calm air, saluted courteously the twoSaracen knights, and joined them in arranging the terms of combat. 

While this was going on the perfidious Charlot remained behind andgave his men the signal to advance. That cowardly troop issuedfrom the wood and encompassed the three knights. All three wereequally surprised at the attack, but neither of them suspected theother to have any hand in the treason. Seeing the attack madeequally upon them all, they united their efforts to resist it, andmade the most forward of the assailants bite the dust. Cortanafell on no one without inflicting a mortal wound, but the sword ofCarahue was not of equal temper and broke in his hands. At thesame instant his horse was slain, and Carahue fell, without aweapon, and entangled with his prostrate horse. Ogier, who saw it, ran to his defence, and leaping to the ground covered the princewith his shield, supplied him with the sword of one of the fallenruffians, and would have him mount his own horse. At that momentCharlot, inflamed with rage, pushed his horse upon Ogier, knockedhim down, and would have run him through with his lance if Sadon, who saw the treason, had not sprung upon him and thrust him back. Carahue leapt lightly upon the horse which Ogier presented him, and had time only to exclaim, "Brave Ogier, I am no longer yourenemy, I pledge to you an eternal friendship, " when numerousSaracen knights were seen approaching, having discovered thetreachery, and Charlot with his followers took refuge in the wood. 

The troop which advanced was commanded by Dannemont, the exiledking of Denmark, whom Geoffroy, Ogier's father, had driven fromhis throne and compelled to take refuge with the Saracens. Learning who Ogier was, he instantly declared him his prisoner, inspite of the urgent remonstrances and even threats of Carahue andSadon, and carried him under a strong guard to the Saracen camp. Here he was at first subjected to the most rigorous captivity, butCarahue and Sadon insisted so vehemently on his release, threatening to turn their arms against their own party if it wasnot granted, while Dannemont as eagerly opposed the measure, thatCorsuble, the Saracen commander, consented to a middle course, andallowed Ogier the freedom of his camp, upon his promise not toleave it without permission. 

Carahue was not satisfied with this partial concession. He leftthe city next morning, proceeded to the camp of Charlemagne, anddemanded to be led to the Emperor. When he reached his presence hedismounted from his horse, took off his helmet, drew his sword, and holding it by the blade presented it to Charlemagne as heknelt before him. 

"Illustrious prince, " he said, "behold before you the herald whobrought the challenge to your knights from the King of Mauritania. The cowardly old King Dannemont has made the brave Ogier prisoner, and has prevailed on our general to refuse to give him up. I cometo make amends for this ungenerous conduct by yielding myself, Carahue, King of Mauritania, your prisoner. "

Charlemagne, with all his peers, admired the magnanimity ofCarahue; he raised him, embraced him, and restored to him hissword. "Prince, " said he, "your presence and the bright exampleyou afford my knights consoles me for the loss of Ogier. Would toGod you might receive our holy faith, and be wholly united withus. " All the lords of the court, led by Duke Namo, paid theirrespects to the King of Mauritania. Charlot only failed to appear, fearing to be recognized as a traitor; but the heart of Carahuewas too noble to pierce that of Charlemagne by telling him thetreachery of his son. 

Meanwhile the Saracen army was rent by discord. The troops ofCarahue clamored against the commander-in-chief because their kingwas left in captivity. They even threatened to desert the causeand turn their arms against their allies. Charlemagne pressed thesiege vigorously, till at length the Saracen leaders foundthemselves compelled to abandon the city and betake themselves totheir ships. A truce was made; Ogier was exchanged for Carahue, and the two friends embraced one another with vows of perpetualbrotherhood. The Pope was reestablished in his dominions, andItaly being tranquil, Charlemagne returned with his peers andtheir followers to France. 

OGIER, THE DANE (Continued)

CHARLEMAGNE had not forgotten the offence of Geoffroy, the King ofDenmark, in withholding homage, and now prepared to enforcesubmission. But at this crisis he was waited upon by an embassyfrom Geoffroy, acknowledging his fault, and craving assistanceagainst an army of invaders who had attacked his states with aforce which he was unable to repel. The soul of Charlemagne wastoo great to be implacable, and he took this opportunity to testthat of Ogier, who had felt acutely the unkindness of his father, in leaving him, without regard or notice, fifteen years incaptivity. Charles asked Ogier whether, in spite of his father'sneglect, he was disposed to lead an army to his assistance. Hereplied, "A son can never be excused from helping his father byany cause short of death. " Charlemagne placed an army of athousand knights under the command of Ogier, and great numbersmore volunteered to march under so distinguished a leader. He flewto the succor of his father, repelled the invaders, and drove themin confusion to their vessels. Ogier then hastened to the capital, but as he drew near the city he heard all the bells sounding aknell. He soon learned the cause; it was the obsequies ofGeoffroy, the King. Ogier felt keenly the grief of not having beenpermitted to embrace his father once more, and to learn his latestcommands; but he found that his father had declared him heir tohis throne. He hastened to the church where the body lay; he kneltand bathed the lifeless form with his tears. At that moment acelestial light beamed all around, and a voice of an angel said, "Ogier, leave thy crown to Guyon, thy brother, and bear no othertitle than that of 'The Dane. ' Thy destiny is glorious, and otherkingdoms are reserved for thee. " Ogier obeyed the divine behest. He saluted his stepmother respectfully, and embracing his brother, told him that he was content with his lot in being reckoned amongthe paladins of Charlemagne, and resigned all claims to the crownof Denmark. 

Ogier returned covered with glory to the court of Charlemagne, andthe Emperor, touched with this proof of his attachment, loaded himwith caresses, and treated him almost as an equal. 

We pass in silence the adventures of Ogier for several ensuingyears, in which the fairy-gifts of his infancy showed their forcein making him successful in all enterprises, both of love and war. He married the charming Belicene, and became the father of youngBaldwin, a youth who seemed to inherit in full measure thestrength and courage of his father and the beauty of his mother. When the lad was old enough to be separated from his mother, Ogiertook him to court and presented him to Charlemagne, who embracedhim and took him into his service. It seemed to Duke Namo, and allthe elder knights, as if they saw in him Ogier himself, as he waswhen a youth; and this resemblance won for the lad their kindregards. Even Charlot at first seemed to be fond of him, thoughafter a while the resemblance to Ogier which he noticed had theeffect to excite his hatred. 

Baldwin was attentive to Charlot, and lost no occasion to beserviceable. The Prince loved to play chess, and Baldwin, whoplayed well, often made a party with him. 

One day Charlot was nettled at losing two pieces in succession; hethought he could, by taking a piece from Baldwin, get some amendsfor his loss; but Baldwin, seeing him fall into a trap which hehad set for him, could not help a slight laugh, as he said, "Check-mate. " Chariot rose in a fury, seized the rich and heavychess-board, and dashed it with all his strength on the head ofBaldwin, who fell, and died where he fell. 

Frightened at his own crime, and fearing the vengeance of theterrible Ogier, Charlot concealed himself in the interior of thepalace. A young companion of Baldwin hastened and informed Ogierof the event. He ran to the chamber, and beheld the body of hischild bathed in blood, and it could not be concealed from him thatCharlot gave the blow. Transported with rage, Ogier sought Charlotthrough the palace, and Charlot, feeling safe nowhere else, tookrefuge in the hall of Charlemagne, where he seated himself attable with Duke Namo and Salomon, Duke of Brittany. Ogier, withsword drawn, followed him to the very table of the Emperor. When acupbearer attempted to bar his way he struck the cup from his handand dashed the contents in the Emperor's face. Charles rose in apassion, seized a knife, and would have plunged it into hisbreast, had not Salomon and another baron thrown themselvesbetween, while Namo, who had retained his ancient influence overOgier, drew him out of the room. Foreseeing the consequence ofthis violence, pitying Ogier, and in his heart excusing him, Namohurried him away before the guards of the palace could arrest him, made him mount his horse, and leave Paris. 

Charlemagne called together his peers, and made them take an oathto do all in their power to arrest Ogier, and bring him to condignpunishment. Ogier on his part sent messages to the Emperor, offering to give himself up on condition that Charlot should bepunished for his atrocious crime. The Emperor would listen to noconditions, and went in pursuit of Ogier at the head of a largebody of soldiers. Ogier, on the other hand, was warmly supportedby many knights, who pledged themselves in his defence. Thecontest raged long, with no decisive results. Ogier more than oncehad the Emperor in his power, but declined to avail himself of hisadvantage, and released him without conditions. He even imploredpardon for himself, but demanded at the same time the punishmentof Charlot. But Charlemagne was too blindly fond of his unworthyson to subject him to punishment for the sake of conciliating onewho had been so deeply injured. 

At length, distressed at the blood which his friends had lost inhis cause, Ogier dismissed his little army, and slipping away fromthose who wished to attend him, took his course to rejoin the DukeGuyon, his brother. On his way, having reached the forest ofArdennes, weary with long travel, the freshness of a retiredvalley tempted him to lie down to take some repose. He unsaddledBeiffror, relieved himself of his helmet, lay down on the turf, rested his head on his shield, and slept. 

It so happened that Turpin, who occasionally recalled to mind thathe was Archbishop of Rheins, was at that time in the vicinity, making a pastoral visit to the churches under his jurisdiction. But his dignity of peer of France, and his martial spirit, whichcaused him to be reckoned among the "preux chevaliers" of histime, forbade him to travel without as large a retinue of knightsas he had of clergymen. One of these was thirsty, and knowing thefountain on the borders of which Ogier was reposing, he rode toit, and was struck by the sight of a knight stretched on theground. He hastened back, and let the Archbishop know, whoapproached the fountain, and recognized Ogier. 

The first impulse of the good and generous Turpin was to save hisfriend, for whom he felt the warmest attachment; but hisarchdeacons and knights, who also recognized Ogier, reminded theArchbishop of the oath which the Emperor had exacted of them all. Turpin could not be false to his oath; but it was not without agroan that he permitted his followers to bind the sleeping knight. The Archbishop's attendants secured the horse and arms of Ogier, and conducted their prisoner to the Emperor at Soissons. 

The Emperor had become so much embittered by Ogier's obstinateresistance, added to his original fault, that he was disposed toorder him to instant death. But Turpin, seconded by the good DukesNamo and Salomon, prayed so hard for him that Charlemagneconsented to remit a violent death, but sentenced him to closeimprisonment, under the charge of the Archbishop, strictlylimiting his food to one quarter of a loaf of bread per day, withone piece of meat, and a quarter of a cup of wine. In this way hehoped to quickly put an end to his life without bringing onhimself the hostility of the King of Denmark, and other powerfulfriends of Ogier. He exacted a new oath of Turpin to obey hisorder strictly. 

The good Archbishop loved Ogier too well not to cast about forsome means of saving his life, which he foresaw he would soon loseif subjected to such scanty fare, for Ogier was seven feet tall, and had an appetite in proportion. Turpin remembered, moreover, that Ogier was a true son of the Church, always zealous topropagate the faith and subdue unbelievers; so he felt justifiedin practising on this occasion what in later times has beenentitled "mental reservation, " without swerving from the letter ofthe oath which he had taken. This is the method he hit upon. 

Every morning he had his prisoner supplied with a quarter of aloaf of bread, made of two bushels of flour, to this he added aquarter of a sheep or a fat calf, and he had a cup made which heldforty pints of wine, and allowed Ogier a quarter of it daily. 

Ogier's imprisonment lasted long; Charlemagne was astonished tohear, from time to time, that he still held out; and when heinquired more particularly of Turpin, the good Archbishop, relyingon his own understanding of the words, did not hesitate to affirmpositively that he allowed his prisoner no more than the permittedration. 

We forgot to say that, when Ogier was led prisoner to Soissons, the Abbot of Saint Faron, observing the fine horse Beiffror, andnot having at the time any other favor to ask of Charlemagne, begged the Emperor to give him the horse, and had him taken to hisabbey. He was impatient to try his new acquisition, and when hehad arrived in his litter at the foot of the mountain where thehorse had been brought to meet him mounted him and rode onward. The horse, accustomed to bear the enormous weight of Ogier in hisarmor, when he perceived nothing on his back but the light weightof the Abbot, whose long robes fluttered against his sides, ranaway, making prodigious leaps over the steep acclivities of themountain till he reached the convent of Jouaire, where, in sightof the Abbess and her nuns, he threw the Abbot, already half deadwith fright, to the ground. The Abbot, bruised and mortified, revenged himself on poor Beiffror, whom he condemned, in hiswrath, to be given to the workmen to drag stones for a chapel thathe was building near the abbey. Thus, ill-fed, hard-worked, andoften beaten, the noble horse Beiffror passed the time while hismaster's imprisonment lasted. 

That imprisonment would have been as long as his life if it hadnot been for some important events which forced the Emperor to setOgier at liberty. 

The Emperor learned at the same time that Carahue, King ofMauritania, was assembling an army to come and demand theliberation of Ogier; that Guyon, King of Denmark, was prepared tosecond the enterprise with all his forces; and, worse than all, that the Saracens, under Bruhier, Sultan of Arabia, had landed inGascony, taken Bordeaux, and were marching with all speed forParis. 

Charlemagne now felt how necessary the aid of Ogier was to him. But, in spite of the representations of Turpin, Namo, and Salomon, he could not bring himself to consent to surrender Charlot to suchpunishment as Ogier should see fit to impose. Besides, he believedthat Ogier was without strength and vigor, weakened byimprisonment and long abstinence. 

At this crisis he received a message from Bruhier, proposing toput the issue upon the result of a combat between himself and theEmperor or his champion; promising, if defeated, to withdraw hisarmy. Charlemagne would willingly have accepted the challenge, buthis counsellors all opposed it. The herald was therefore told thatthe Emperor would take time to consider his proposition, and givehis answer the next day. 

It was during this interval that the three Dukes succeeded inprevailing upon Charlemagne to pardon Ogier, and to send for himto combat the puissant enemy who now defied him; but it was noeasy task to persuade Ogier. The idea of his long imprisonment andthe recollection of his son, bleeding and dying in his arms by theblow of the ferocious Charlot, made him long resist the urgency ofhis friends. Though glory called him to encounter Bruhier, and thesafety of Christendom demanded the destruction of this proud enemyof the faith, Ogier only yielded at last on condition that Charlotshould be delivered into his hands to be dealt with as he shouldsee fit. 

The terms were hard, but the danger was pressing, and Charlemagne, with a returning sense of justice, and a strong confidence in thegenerous though passionate soul of Ogier, at last consented tothem. 

Ogier was led into the presence of Charlemagne by the three peers. The Emperor, faithful to his word, had caused Charlot to bebrought into the hall where the high barons were assembled, hishands tied, and his head uncovered. When the Emperor saw Ogierapproach he took Charlot by the arm, led him towards Ogier, andsaid these words: "I surrender the criminal; do with him as youthink fit. " Ogier, without replying, seized Charlot by the hair, forced him on his knees, and lifted with the other hand hisirresistible sword. Charlemagne, who expected to see the head ofhis son rolling at his feet, shut his eyes and uttered a cry ofhorror. 

Ogier had done enough. The next moment he raised Charlot, cut hisbonds, kissed him on the mouth, and hastened to throw himself atthe feet of the Emperor. 

Nothing can exceed the surprise and joy of Charlemagne at seeinghis son unharmed and Ogier kneeling at his feet. He folded him inhis arms, bathed him with tears, and exclaimed to his barons, "Ifeel at this moment that Ogier is greater than I. " As for Charlot, his base soul felt nothing but the joy of having escaped death; heremained such as he had been, and it was not till some yearsafterwards he received the punishment he deserved, from the handsof Huon of Bordeaux, as we have seen in a former chapter. 

OGIER, THE DANE (Continued)

WHEN Charlemagne had somewhat recovered his composure he wassurprised to observe that Ogier appeared in good case, and had ahealthy color in his cheeks. He turned to the Archbishop, whocould not help blushing as he met his eye. "By the head of Bertha, my queen, " said Charlemagne, "Ogier has had good quarters in yourcastle, my Lord Archbishop; but so much the more am I indebted toyou. " All the barons laughed and jested with Turpin, who onlysaid, "Laugh as much as you please, my lords; but for my part I amnot sorry to see the arm in full vigor that is to avenge us on theproud Saracen. "

Charlemagne immediately despatched his herald, accepting thechallenge, and appointing the next day but one for the encounter. The proud and crafty Bruhier laughed scornfully when he heard thereply accepting his challenge, for he had a reliance on certainresources besides his natural strength and skill. However, heswore by Mahomet to observe the conditions as proposed and agreedupon. 

Ogier now demanded his armor, and it was brought to him inexcellent condition, for the good Turpin had kept it faithfully;but it was not easy to provide a horse for the occasion. Charlemagne had the best horses of his stables brought out, exceptBlanchard, his own charger; but all in vain, the weight of Ogierbent their backs to the ground. In this embarrassment theArchbishop remembered that the Emperor had given Beiffror to theAbbot of St. Faron, and sent off a courier in haste to re-demandhim. 

Monks are hard masters, and the one who directed the laborers atthe abbey had but too faithfully obeyed the orders of the Abbot. Poor Beiffror was brought back, lean, spiritless, and chafed withthe harness of the vile cart that he had had to draw so long. Hecarried his head down, and trod heavily before Charlemagne; butwhen he heard the voice of Ogier he raised his head, he neighed, his eyes flashed, his former ardor showed itself by the force withwhich he pawed the ground. Ogier caressed him, and the good steedseemed to return his caresses; Ogier mounted him, and Beiffror, proud of carrying his master again, leapt and curvetted with allhis youthful vigor. 

Nothing being now wanted, Charlemagne, at the head of his army, marched forth from the city of Paris, and occupied the hill ofMontmartre, whence the view extended over the plain of St. Denis, where the battle was to be fought. 

When the appointed day came the Dukes Namo and Salomon, as secondsof Ogier, accompanied him to the place marked out for the lists, and Bruhier, with two distinguished Emirs, presented himself onthe other side. 

Bruhier was in high spirits, and jested with his friends, as headvanced, upon the appearance of Beiffror. "Is that the horse theypresume to match with Marchevallee, the best steed that ever fedin the vales of Mount Atlas?" But now the combatants, having metand saluted each other, ride apart to come together in fullcareer. Beiffror flew over the plain, and met the adversary morethan half-way. The lances of the two combatants were shivered atthe shock, and Bruhier was astonished to see almost at the sameinstant the sword of Ogier gleaming above his head. He parried itwith his buckler, and gave Ogier a blow on his helmet, whoreturned it with another, better aimed or better seconded by thetemper of his blade, for it cut away part of Bruhier's helmet, andwith it his ear and part of his cheek. Ogier, seeing the blood, did not immediately repeat his blow, and Bruhier seized the momentto gallop off at one side. As he rode he took a vase of gold whichhung at his saddle-bow, and bathed with its contents the woundedpart. The blood instantly ceased to flow, the ear and the fleshwere restored quite whole, and the Dane was astonished to see hisantagonist return to the ground as sound as ever. 

Bruhier laughed at his amazement. "Know, " said he, "that I possessthe precious balm that Joseph of Arimathea used upon the body ofthe crucified one, whom you worship. If I should lose an arm Icould restore it with a few drops of this. It is useless for youto contend with me. Yield yourself, and, as you appear to be astrong fellow, I will make you first oarsman in one of mygalleys. "

Ogier, though boiling with rage, forgot not to implore theassistance of Heaven. "O Lord!" he exclaimed, "suffer not theenemy of thy name to profit by the powerful help of that whichowes all its virtue to thy divine blood. " At these words heattacked Bruhier again with more vigor than ever; both struckterrible blows, and made grievous wounds; but the blood flowedfrom those of Ogier, while Bruhier stanched his by the applicationof his balm. Ogier, desperate at the unequal contest, graspedCortana with both hands, and struck his enemy such a blow that itcleft his buckler, and cut off his arm with it; but Bruhier at thesame time launched one at Ogier, which, missing him, struck thehead of Beiffror, and the good horse fell, and drew down hismaster in his fall. 

Bruhier had time to leap to the ground, to pick up his arm andapply his balsam; then, before Ogier had recovered his footing, herushed forward with sword uplifted to complete his destruction. 

Charlemagne, from the height of Montmartre, seeing the brave Ogierin this situation, groaned, and was ready to murmur againstProvidence; but the good Turpin, raising his arms, with a faithlike that of Moses, drew down upon the Christian warrior the favorof Heaven. 

Ogier, promptly disengaging himself, pressed Bruhier with so muchimpetuosity that he drove him to a distance from his horse, towhose saddle-bow the precious balm was suspended; and very soonCharlemagne saw Ogier, now completely in the advantage, bring hisenemy to his knees, tear off his helmet, and, with a sweep of hissword, strike his head from his body. 

After the victory, Ogier seized Marchevallee, leaped upon hisback, and became possessed of the precious flask, a few drops fromwhich closed his wounds and restored his strength. The Frenchknights who had been Bruhier's captives, now released, pressedround Ogier to thank him for their deliverance. 

Charlemagne and his nobles, as soon as their attention wasrelieved from the single combat, perceived from their elevatedposition an unusual agitation in the enemy's camp. They attributedit at first to the death of their general, but soon the noise ofarms, the cries of combatants, and new standards which advanced, disclosed to them the fact that Bruhier's army was attacked by anew enemy. 

The Emperor was right; it was the brave Carahue of Mauritania, who, with an army, had arrived in France, resolved to attempt theliberation of Ogier, his brother in arms. Learning on his arrivalthe changed aspect of affairs, he hesitated not to render a signalservice to the Emperor, by attacking the army of Bruhier in themidst of the consternation occasioned by the loss of itscommander. 

Ogier recognized the standard of his friend, and leaping uponMarchevallee, flew to aid his attack. Charlemagne followed withhis army; and the Saracen host, after an obstinate conflict, wasforced to surrender unconditionally. 

The interview of Ogier and Carahue was such as might beanticipated of two such attached friends and accomplished knights. Charlemagne went to meet them, embraced them, and putting the Kingof Mauritania on his right and Ogier on his left, returned withtriumph to Paris. There the Empress Bertha and the ladies of hercourt crowned them with laurels, and the sage and gallantEginhard, chamberlain and secretary of the Emperor, wrote allthese great events in his history. 

A few days after Guyon, King of Denmark, arrived in France with achosen band of knights, and sent an ambassador to Charlemagne, tosay that he came, not as an enemy, but to render homage to him asthe best knight of the time and the head of the Christian world. Charlemagne gave the ambassador a cordial reception, and mountinghis horse, rode forward to meet the King of Denmark. 

These great princes, being assembled at the court of Charles, heldcouncil together, and the ancient and sage barons were called tojoin it. 

It was decided that the united Danish and Mauritanian armiesshould cross the sea and carry the war to the country of theSaracens, and that a thousand French knights should rangethemselves under the banner of Ogier, the Dane, who, though not aking, should have equal rank with the two others. 

We have not space to record all the illustrious actions performedby Ogier and his allies in this war. Suffice it to say, theysubdued the Saracens of Ptolemais and Judaea, and, erecting thoseregions into a kingdom, placed the crown upon the head of Ogier. Guyon and Carahue then left him, to return to their respectivedominions. Ogier adopted Walter, the son of Guyon of Denmark, tobe his successor in his kingdom. He superintended his education, and saw the young prince grow up worthy of his cares. But Ogier, in spite of all the honors of his rank, often regretted the courtof Charlemagne, the Duke Namo, and Salomon of Brittany, for whomhe had the respect and attachment of a son. At last, findingWalter old enough to sustain the weight of government, Ogiercaused a vessel to be prepared secretly, and, attended only by onesquire, left his palace by night, and embarked to return toFrance. 

The vessel, driven by a fair wind, cut the sea with the swiftnessof a bird; but on a sudden it deviated from its course, no longerobeyed the helm, and sped fast towards a black promontory whichstretched into the sea. This was a mountain of loadstone, and, itsattractive power increasing as the distance diminished, the vesselat last flew with the swiftness of an arrow towards it, and wasdashed to pieces on its rocky base. Ogier alone saved himself, andreached the shore on a fragment of the wreck. 

Ogier advanced into the country, looking for some marks ofinhabitancy, but found none. On a sudden he encountered twomonstrous animals, covered with glittering scales, accompanied bya horse breathing fire. Ogier drew his sword and prepared todefend himself; but the monsters, terrific as they appeared, madeno attempt to assail him, and the horse, Papillon, knelt down, andappeared to court Ogier to mount upon his back. Ogier hesitatednot to see the adventure through; he mounted Papillon, who ranwith speed, and soon cleared the rocks and precipices which hemmedin and concealed a beautiful landscape. He continued his coursetill he reached a magnificent palace, and, without allowing Ogiertime to admire it, crossed a grand court-yard adorned withcolonnades, and entered a garden, where, making his way throughalleys of myrtle, he checked his course, and knelt down on theenamelled turf of a fountain. 

Ogier dismounted and took some steps along the margin of thestream, but was soon stopped by meeting a young beauty, such asthey paint the Graces, and almost as lightly attired as they. Atthe same moment, to his amazement, his armor fell off of its ownaccord. The young beauty advanced with a tender air, and placedupon his head a crown of flowers. At that instant the Danish herolost his memory; his combats, his glory, Charlemagne and hiscourt, all vanished from his mind; he saw only Morgana, he desirednothing but to sigh forever at her feet. 

We abridge the narrative of all the delights which Ogier enjoyedfor more than a hundred years. Time flew by, leaving no impressionof its flight. Morgana's youthful charms did not decay, and Ogierhad none of those warnings of increasing years which less favoredmortals never fail to receive. There is no knowing how long thisblissful state might have lasted, if it had not been for anaccident, by which Morgana one day, in a sportive moment, snatchedthe crown from his head. That moment Ogier regained his memory, and lost his contentment. The recollection of Charlemagne, and ofhis own relatives and friends, saddened the hours which he passedwith Morgana. The fairy saw with grief the changed looks of herlover. At last she drew from him the acknowledgment that he wishedto go, at least for a time, to revisit Charles's court. Sheconsented with reluctance, and with her own hands helped toreinvest him with his armor. Papillon was led forth, Ogier mountedhim, and, taking a tender adieu of the tearful Morgana, crossed atrapid speed the rocky belt which separated Morgana's palace fromthe borders of the sea. The sea-goblins which had received him athis coming awaited him on the shore. One of them took Ogier on hisback, and the other placing himself under Papillon, they spreadtheir broad fins, and in a short time traversed the wide spacethat separates the isle of Avalon from France. They landed Ogieron the coast of Languedoc, and then plunged into the sea anddisappeared. 

Ogier remounted on Papillon, who carried him across the kingdomalmost as fast as he had passed the sea. He arrived under thewalls of Paris, which he would scarcely have recognized if thehigh towers of St. Genevieve had not caught his eye. He wentstraight to the palace of Charlemagne, which seemed to him to havebeen entirely rebuilt. His surprise was extreme, and increasedstill more on finding that he understood with difficulty thelanguage of the guards and attendants in replying to hisquestions; and seeing them smile as they tried to explain to oneanother the language in which he addressed them. Presently theattention of some of the barons who were going to court wasattracted to the scene, and Ogier, who recognized the badges oftheir rank, addressed them, and inquired if the Dukes Namo andSalomon were still residing at the Emperor's court. At thisquestion the barons looked at one another in amazement; and one ofthe eldest said to the rest, "How much this knight resembles theportrait of my grand-uncle, Ogier the Dane. " "Ah! my dear nephew, I am Ogier the Dane, " said he; and he remembered that Morgana hadtold him that he was little aware of the flight of time during hisabode with her. 

The barons, more astonished than ever, concluded to conduct him tothe monarch who then reigned, the great Hugh Capet. 

The brave Ogier entered the palace without hesitation; but when, on reaching the royal hall, the barons directed him to make hisobeisance to the King of France, he was astonished to see a man ofshort stature and large head, whose air, nevertheless, was nobleand martial, seated upon the throne on which he had so often seenCharlemagne, the tallest and handsomest sovereign of his time. 

Ogier recounted his adventures with simplicity and affectedness. Hugh Capet was slow to believe him; but Ogier recalled so manyproofs and circumstances, that at last he was forced to recognizethe aged warrior to be the famous Ogier the Dane. 

The king informed Ogier of the events which had taken place duringhis long absence; that the line of Charlemagne was extinct; that anew dynasty had commenced; that the old enemies of the kingdom, the Saracens, were still troublesome; and that at that very timean army of those miscreants was besieging the city of Chartres, towhich he was about to repair in a few days to its relief. Ogier, always inflamed with the love of glory, offered the service of hisarm, which the illustrious monarch accepted graciously, andconducted him to the queen. The astonishment of Ogier wasredoubled when he saw the new ornaments and head-dresses of theladies; still, the beautiful hair which they built up on theirforeheads, and the feathers interwoven, which waved with so muchgrace, gave them a noble air that delighted him. His admirationincreased when, instead of the old Empress Bertha, he saw a youngqueen who combined a majestic mien with the graces of her time oflife, and manners candid and charming, suited to attach allhearts. Ogier saluted the youthful queen with a respect soprofound that many of the courtiers took him for a foreigner, orat least for some nobleman brought up at a distance from Paris, who retained the manners of what they called the old court. 

When the queen was informed by her husband that it was thecelebrated Ogier the Dane whom he presented to her, whosememorable exploits she had often read in the chronicles ofantiquity, her surprise was extreme, which was increased when sheremarked the dignity of his address, the animation and even theyouthfulness of his countenance. This queen had too muchintelligence to believe hastily; proof alone could compel herassent; and she asked him many questions about the old court ofCharlemagne, and received such instructive and appropriate answersas removed every doubt. It is to the corrections which Ogier wasat that time enabled to make to the popular narratives of hisexploits that we are indebted for the perfect accuracy andtrustworthiness of all the details of our own history. 

King Hugh Capet, having received that same evening couriers fromthe inhabitants of Chartres, informing him that they were hardpressed by the besiegers, resolved to hasten with Ogier to theirrelief. 

Ogier terminated this affair as expeditiously as he had so oftendone others. The Saracens having dared to offer battle, he borethe Oriflamme through the thickest of their ranks; Papillon, breathing fire from his nostrils, threw them into disorder, andCortana, wielded by his invincible arm, soon finished theiroverthrow. 

The king, victorious over the Saracens, led back the Danish heroto Paris, where the deliverer of France received the honors due tohis valor. Ogier continued some time at the court, detained by thefavor of the king and queen; but erelong he had the pain towitness the death of the king. Then it was that, impressed withall the perfections which he had discerned in the queen, he couldnot withhold the tender homage of the offer of his hand. The queenwould perhaps have accepted it, she had even called a meeting ofher great barons to deliberate on the proposition, when, the daybefore the meeting was to be held, at the moment when Ogier waskneeling at her feet, she perceived a crown of gold which aninvisible hand had placed on his brow, and in an instant a cloudenveloped Ogier, and he disappeared forever from her sight. It wasMorgana, the fairy, whose jealousy was awakened at what shebeheld, who now resumed her power, and took him away to dwell withher in the island of Avalon. There, in company with the great KingArthur of Britain, he still lives, and when his illustrious friendshall return to resume his ancient reign he will doubtless returnwith him, and share his triumph. 

GLOSSARY

Abdalrahman, founder of the independent Ommiad (Saracenic) powerin Spain, conquered at Tours by Charles Martel

Aberfraw, scene of nuptials of Branwen and Matholch

Absyrtus, younger brother of Medea

Abydos, a town on the Hellespont, nearly opposite to Sestos

Abyla, Mount, or Columna, a mountain in Morocco, near Ceuta, nowcalled Jebel Musa or Ape's Hill, forming the Northwesternextremity of the African coast opposite Gibraltar (See Pillars ofHercules)

Acestes, son of a Trojan woman who was sent by her father toSicily, that she might not be devoured by the monsters whichinfested the territory of Troy

Acetes, Bacchanal captured by Pentheus

Achates, faithful friend and companion of Aeneas

Achelous, river-god of the largest river in Greece--his Horn ofPlenty

Achilles, the hero of the Iliad, son of Peleus and of the NereidThetis, slain by Paris

Acis, youth loved by Galatea and slain by Polyphemus

Acontius, a beautiful youth, who fell in love with Cydippe, thedaughter of a noble Athenian. 

Acrisius, son of Abas, king of Argos, grandson of Lynceus, thegreat-grandson of Danaus. 

Actaeon, a celebrated huntsman, son of Aristaeus and Autonoe, who, having seen Diana bathing, was changed by her to a stag and killedby his own dogs. 

Admeta, daughter of Eurystheus, covets Hippolyta's girdle. 

Admetus, king of Thessaly, saved from death by Alcestis

Adonis, a youth beloved by Aphrodite (Venus), and Proserpine;killed by a boar. 

Adrastus, a king of Argos. 

Aeacus, son of Zeus (Jupiter) and Aegina, renowned in all Greecefor his justice and piety. 

Aeaea, Circe's island, visited by Ulysses. 

Aeetes, or Aeeta, son of Helios (the Sun) and Perseis, and fatherof Medea and Absyrtus. 

Aegeus, king of Athens. 

Aegina, a rocky island in the middle of the Saronic gulf. 

Aegis, shield or breastplate of Jupiter and Minerva. 

Aegisthus, murderer of Agamemnon, slain by Orestes. 

Aeneas, Trojan hero, son of Anchises and Aphrodite (Venus), andborn on Mount Ida, reputed first settler of Rome, Aeneid, poem by Virgil, relating the wanderings of Aeneas fromTroy to Italy, Ae'olus, son of Hellen and the nymph Orseis, represented in Homeras the happy ruler of the Aeolian Islands, to whom Zeus had givendominion over the winds, Aesculapius, god of the medical art, Aeson, father of Jason, made young again by Medea, Aethiopians, inhabitants of the country south of Egypt, Aethra, mother of Theseus by Aegeus, Aetna, volcano in Sicily, Agamedes, brother of Trophonius, distinguished as an architect, Agamemnon, son of Plisthenis and grandson of Atreus, king ofMycenae, although the chief commander of the Greeks, is not thehero of the Iliad, and in chivalrous spirit altogether inferior toAchilles, Agave, daughter of Cadmus, wife of Echion, and mother of Pentheus, Agenor, father of Europa, Cadmus, Cilix, and Phoenix, Aglaia, one of the Graces, Agni, Hindu god of fire, Agramant, a king in Africa, Agrican, fabled king of Tartary, pursuing Angelica, finally killedby Orlando, Agrivain, one of Arthur's knights, Ahriman, the Evil Spirit in the dual system of Zoroaster, SeeOrmuzd

Ajax, son of Telamon, king of Salamis, and grandson of Aeacus, represented in the Iliad as second only to Achilles in bravery, Alba, the river where King Arthur fought the Romans, Alba Longa, city in Italy founded by son of Aeneas, Alberich, dwarf guardian of Rhine gold treasure of the Nibelungs

Albracca, siege of, Alcestis, wife of Admetus, offered hersell as sacrifice to spareher husband, but rescued by Hercules, Alcides (Hercules), Alcina, enchantress, Alcinous, Phaeacian king, Alcippe, daughter of Mars, carried off by Halirrhothrus, Alcmena, wife of Jupiter, and mother of Hercules, Alcuin, English prelate and scholar, Aldrovandus, dwarf guardian of treasure, Alecto, one of the Furies, Alexander the Great, king of Macedonia, conqueror of Greece, Egypt, Persia, Babylonia, and India, Alfadur, a name for Odin, Alfheim, abode of the elves of light, Alice, mother of Huon and Girard, sons of Duke Sevinus, Alphenor, son of Niobe, Alpheus, river god pursuing Arethusa, who escaped by being changedto a fountain, Althaea, mother of Meleager, whom she slew because he had in aquarrel killed her brothers, thus disgracing "the house ofThestius, " her father, Amalthea, nurse of the infant Jupiter in Crete, Amata, wife of Latinus, driven mad by Alecto, Amaury of Hauteville, false hearted Knight of Charlemagne, Amazons, mythical race of warlike women, Ambrosia, celestial food used by the gods, Ammon, Egyptian god of life identified by Romans with phases ofJupiter, the father of gods, Amphiaraus, a great prophet and hero at Argos, Amphion, a musician, son of Jupiter and Antiope (See Dirce), Amphitrite, wife of Neptune, Amphyrsos, a small river in Thessaly, Ampyx, assailant of Perseus, turned to stone by seeing Gorgon'shead, Amrita, nectar giving immortality, Amun, See Ammon

Amymone, one of the fifty daughters of Danaus, and mother byPoseidon (Neptune) of Nauplius, the father of Palamedes, Anaxarete, a maiden of Cyprus, who treated her lover Iphis withsuch haughtiness that he hanged himself at her door, Anbessa, Saracenic governor of Spain (725 AD), Anceus, one of the Argonauts, Anchises, beloved by Aphrodite (Venus), by whom he became thefather of Aeneas, Andraemon, husband of Dryope, saw her changed into a tree, Andret, a cowardly knight, spy upon Tristram, Andromache, wife of Hector

Andromeda, daughter of King Cephas, delivered from monster byPerseus

Aneurin, Welsh bard

Angelica, Princess of Cathay

Anemone, short lived wind flower, created by Venus from the bloodof the slain Adonis

Angerbode, giant prophetess, mother of Fenris, Hela and theMidgard Serpent

Anglesey, a Northern British island, refuge of Druids fleeing fromRomans

Antaeus, giant wrestler of Libya, killed by Hercules, who, findinghim stronger when thrown to the earth, lifted him into the air andstrangled him

Antea, wife of jealous Proetus

Antenor, descendants of, in Italy

Anteros, deity avenging unrequited love, brother of Eros (Cupid)

Anthor, a Greek

Antigone, daughter of Aedipus, Greek ideal of filial and sisterlyfidelity

Antilochus, son of Nestor

Antiope, Amazonian queen. See Dirce

Anubis, Egyptian god, conductor of the dead to judgment

Apennines

Aphrodite See Venus, Dione, etc. 

Apis, Egyptian bull god of Memphis

Apollo, god of music and song

Apollo Belvedere, famous antique statue in Vatican at Rome

Apples of the Hesperides, wedding gifts to Juno, guarded bydaughters of Atlas and Hesperis, stolen by Atlas for Hercules, Aquilo, or Boreas, the North Wind, Aquitaine, ancient province of Southwestern France, Arachne, a maiden skilled in weaving, changed to a spider byMinerva for daring to compete with her, Arcadia, a country in the middle of Peloponnesus, surrounded onall sides by mountains, Arcady, star of, the Pole star, Arcas, son of Jupiter and Callisto, Archer, constellation of the, Areopagus, court of the, at Athens, Ares, called Mars by the Romans, the Greek god of war, and one ofthe great Olympian gods, Arethusa, nymph of Diana, changed to a fountain, Argius king of Ireland, father of Isoude the Fair, Argo, builder of the vessel of Jason for the Argonauticexpedition, Argolis, city of the Nemean games, Argonauts, Jason's crew seeking the Golden Fleece, Argos, a kingdom in Greece, Argus, of the hundred eyes, guardian of Io, Ariadne, daughter of King Minos, who helped Theseus slay theMinotaur, Arimanes SEE Ahriman. 

Arimaspians, one-eyed people of Syria, Arion, famous musician, whom sailors cast into the sea to rob him, but whose lyric song charmed the dolphins, one of which bore himsafely to land, Aristaeus, the bee keeper, in love with Eurydice, Armorica, another name for Britain, Arridano, a magical ruffian, slain by Orlando, Artemis SEE Diana

Arthgallo, brother of Elidure, British king, Arthur, king in Britain about the 6th century, Aruns, an Etruscan who killed Camilla, Asgard, home of the Northern gods, Ashtaroth, a cruel spirit, called by enchantment to bring Rinaldoto death, Aske, the first man, made from an ash tree, Astolpho of England, one of Charlemagne's knights, Astraea, goddess of justice, daughter of Astraeus and Eos, Astyages, an assailant of Perseus, Astyanax, son of Hector of Troy, established kingdom of Messina inItaly, Asuias, opponents of the Braminical gods, Atalanta, beautiful daughter of King of Icaria, loved and won in afoot race by Hippomenes, Ate, the goddess of infatuation, mischief and guilt, Athamas, son of Aeolus and Enarete, and king of Orchomenus, inBoeotia, SEE Ino

Athene, tutelary goddess of Athens, the same as Minerva, Athens, the capital of Attica, about four miles from the sea, between the small rivers Cephissus and Ilissus, Athor, Egyptian deity, progenitor of Isis and Osiris, Athos, the mountainous peninsula, also called Acte, which projectsfrom Chalcidice in Macedonia, Atlantes, foster father of Rogero, a powerful magician, Atlantis, according to an ancient tradition, a great island westof the Pillars of Hercules, in the ocean, opposite Mount Atlas, Atlas, a Titan, who bore the heavens on his shoulders, aspunishment for opposing the gods, one of the sons of Iapetus, Atlas, Mount, general name for range in northern Africa, Atropos, one of the Fates

Attica, a state in ancient Greece, Audhumbla, the cow from which the giant Ymir was nursed. Her milkwas frost melted into raindrops, Augean stables, cleansed by Hercules, Augeas, king of Elis, Augustan age, reign of Roman Emperor Augustus Caesar, famed formany great authors, Augustus, the first imperial Caesar, who ruled the Roman Empire 31BC--14 AD, Aulis, port in Boeotia, meeting place of Greek expedition againstTroy, Aurora, identical with Eos, goddess of the dawn, Aurora Borealis, splendid nocturnal luminosity in northern sky, called Northern Lights, probably electrical, Autumn, attendant of Phoebus, the Sun, Avalon, land of the Blessed, an earthly paradise in the WesternSeas, burial place of King Arthur, Avatar, name for any of the earthly incarnations of Vishnu, thePreserver (Hindu god), Aventine, Mount, one of the Seven Hills of Rome, Avernus, a miasmatic lake close to the promontory between Cumaeand Puteoli, filling the crater of an extinct volcano, by theancients thought to be the entrance to the infernal regions, Avicenna, celebrated Arabian physician and philosopher, Aya, mother of Rinaldo, Aymon, Duke, father of Rinaldo and Bradamante, B

Baal, king of Tyre, Babylonian River, dried up when Phaeton drove the sun chariot, Bacchanali a, a feast to Bacchus that was permitted to occur butonce in three years, attended by most shameless orgies, Bacchanals, devotees and festal dancers of Bacchus, Bacchus (Dionysus), god of wine and revelry, Badon, battle of, Arthur's final victory over the Saxons, Bagdemagus, King, a knight of Arthur's time, Baldur, son of Odin, and representing in Norse mythology the sungod, Balisardo, Orlando's sword, Ban, King of Brittany, ally of Arthur, father of Launcelot, Bards, minstrels of Welsh Druids, Basilisk SEE Cockatrice

Baucis, wife of Philemon, visited by Jupiter and Mercury, Bayard, wild horse subdued by Rinaldo, Beal, Druids' god of life, Bedivere, Arthur's knight, Bedver, King Arthur's butler, made governor of Normandy, Bedwyr, knightly comrade of Geraint, Belisarda, Rogero's sword, Bellerophon, demigod, conqueror of the Chimaera, Bellona, the Roman goddess of war, represented as the sister orwife of Mars, Beltane, Druidical fire festival, Belus, son of Poseidon (Neptune) and Libya or Eurynome, twinbrother of Agenor, Bendigeid Vran, King of Britain, Beowulf, hero and king of the Swedish Geats, Beroe, nurse of Semele, Bertha, mother of Orlando, Bifrost, rainbow bridge between the earth and Asgard

Bladud, inventor, builder of the city of Bath, Blamor, a knight of Arthur, Bleoberis, a knight of Arthur, Boeotia, state in ancient Greece, capital city Thebes, Bohort, King, a knight of Arthur, Bona Dea, a Roman divinity of fertility, Bootes, also called Areas, son of Jupiter and Calisto, changed toconstellation of Ursa Major, Boreas, North wind, son of Aeolus and Aurora, Bosporus (Bosphorus), the Cow-ford, named for Io, when as a heifershe crossed that strait, Bradamante, sister to Rinaldo, a female warrior, Brademagus, King, father of Sir Maleagans, Bragi, Norse god of poetry, Brahma, the Creator, chief god of Hindu religion, Branwen, daughter of Llyr, King of Britain, wife of Mathclch, Breciliande, forest of, where Vivian enticed Merlin, Brengwain, maid of Isoude the Fair

Brennus, son of Molmutius, went to Gaul, became King of theAllobroges, Breuse, the Pitiless, a caitiff knight, Briareus, hundred armed giant, Brice, Bishop, sustainer of Arthur when elected king, Brigliadoro, Orlando's horse, Briseis, captive maid belonging to Achilles, Britto, reputed ancestor of British people, Bruhier, Sultan of Arabia, Brunello, dwarf, thief, and king

Brunhild, leader of the Valkyrie, Brutus, great grandson of Aeneas, and founder of city of New Troy(London), SEE Pandrasus

Bryan, Sir, a knight of Arthur, Buddha, called The Enlightened, reformer of Brahmanism, deifiedteacher of self abnegation, virtue, reincarnation, Karma(inevitable sequence of every act), and Nirvana (beatificabsorption into the Divine), lived about

Byblos, in Egypt, Byrsa, original site of Carthage, C

Cacus, gigantic son of Vulcan, slain by Hercules, whose capturedcattle he stole, Cadmus, son of Agenor, king of Phoenicia, and of Telephassa, andbrother of Europa, who, seeking his sister, carried off byJupiter, had strange adventures--sowing in the ground teeth of adragon he had killed, which sprang up armed men who slew eachother, all but five, who helped Cadmus to found the city ofThebes, Caduceus, Mercury's staff, Cadwallo, King of Venedotia (North Wales), Caerleon, traditional seat of Arthur's court, Caesar, Julius, Roman lawyer, general, statesman and author, conquered and consolidated Roman territory, making possible theEmpire, Caicus, a Greek river, Cairns, Druidical store piles, Calais, French town facing England, Calchas, wisest soothsayer among the Greeks at Troy, Caliburn, a sword of Arthur, Calliope, one of the nine Muses

Callisto, an Arcadian nymph, mother of Arcas (SEE Bootes), changedby Jupiter to constellation Ursa Minor, Calpe, a mountain in the south of Spain, on the strait between theAtlantic and Mediterranean, now Rock of Gibraltar, Calydon, home of Meleager, Calypso, queen of Island of Ogyia, where Ulysses was wrecked andheld seven years, Camber, son of Brutus, governor of West Albion (Wales), Camelot, legendary place in England where Arthur's court andpalace were located, Camenae, prophetic nymphs, belonging to the religion of ancientItaly, Camilla, Volscian maiden, huntress and Amazonian warrior, favoriteof Diana, Camlan, battle of, where Arthur was mortally wounded, Canterbury, English city, Capaneus, husband of Evadne, slain by Jupiter for disobedience, Capet, Hugh, King of France (987-996 AD), Caradoc Briefbras, Sir, great nephew of King Arthur, Carahue, King of Mauretania, Carthage, African city, home of Dido

Cassandra, daughter of Priam and Hecuba, and twin sister ofHelenus, a prophetess, who foretold the coming of the Greeks butwas not believed, Cassibellaunus, British chieftain, fought but not conquered byCaesar, Cassiopeia, mother of Andromeda, Castalia, fountain of Parnassus, giving inspiration to Oracularpriestess named Pythia, Castalian Cave, oracle of Apollo, Castes (India), Castor and Pollux--the Dioscuri, sons of Jupiter and Leda, --Castor a horseman, Pollux a boxer (SEE Gemini), Caucasus, Mount

Cavall, Arthur's favorite dog, Cayster, ancient river, Cebriones, Hector's charioteer, Cecrops, first king of Athens, Celestials, gods of classic mythology, Celeus, shepherd who sheltered Ceres, seeking Proserpine, andwhose infant son Triptolemus was in gratitude made great by Ceres, Cellini, Benvenuto, famous Italian sculptor and artificer inmetals, Celtic nations, ancient Gauls and Britons, modern Bretons, Welsh, Irish and Gaelic Scotch, Centaurs, originally an ancient race, inhabiting Mount Pelion inThessaly, in later accounts represented as half horses and halfmen, and said to have been the offspring of Ixion and a cloud, Cephalus, husband of beautiful but jealous Procris, Cephe us, King of Ethiopians, father of Andromeda, Cephisus, a Grecian stream, Cerberus, three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to Hades, called a son of Typhaon and Echidna

CERES (See Demeter)

CESTUS, the girdle of Venus

CEYX, King of Thessaly (See Halcyone)

CHAOS, original Confusion, personified by Greeks as most ancientof the gods

CHARLEMAGNE, king of the Franks and emperor of the Romans

CHARLES MARTEL', king of the Franks, grandfather of Charlemagne, called Martel (the Hammer) from his defeat of the Saracens atTours

CHARLOT, son of Charlemagne

CHARON, son of Erebos, conveyed in his boat the shades of the deadacross the rivers of the lower world

CHARYB'DIS, whirlpool near the coast of Sicily, See Scylla

CHIMAERA, a fire breathing monster, the fore part of whose bodywas that of a lion, the hind part that of a dragon, and the middlethat of a goat, slain by Bellerophon

CHINA, Lamas (priests) of

CHOS, island in the Grecian archipelago

CHIRON, wisest of all the Centaurs, son of Cronos (Saturn) andPhilyra, lived on Mount Pelion, instructor of Grecian heroes

CHRYSEIS, Trojan maid, taken by Agamemnon

CHRYSES, priest of Apollo, father of Chryseis

CICONIANS, inhabitants of Ismarus, visited by Ulysses

CIMBRI, an ancient people of Central Europe

Cimmeria, a land of darkness

Cimon, Athenian general

Circe, sorceress, sister of Aeetes

Cithaeron, Mount, scene of Bacchic worship

Clarimunda, wife of Huon

Clio, one of the Muses

Cloridan, a Moor

Clotho, one of the Fates

Clymene, an ocean nymph

Clytemnestra, wife of Agamemnon, killed by Orestes

Clytie, a water nymph, in love with Apollo

Cnidos, ancient city of Asia Minor, seat of worship of Aphrodite(Venus)

Cockatrice (or Basilisk), called King of Serpents, supposed tokill with its look

Cocytus, a river of Hades

Colchis, a kingdom east of the Black Sea

Colophon, one of the seven cities claiming the birth of Homer

Columba, St, an Irish Christian missionary to Druidical parts ofScotland

Conan, Welsh king

Constantine, Greek emperor

Cordeilla, daughter of the mythical King Leir

Corineus, a Trojan warrior in Albion

Cornwall, southwest part of Britain

Cortana, Ogier's sword

Corybantes, priests of Cybele, or Rhea, in Phrygia, whocelebrated her worship with dances, to the sound of the drum andthe cymbal, 143

Crab, constellation

Cranes and their enemies, the Pygmies, of Ibycus

Creon, king of Thebes

Crete, one of the largest islands of the Mediterranean Sea, lyingsouth of the Cyclades

Creusa, daughter of Priam, wife of Aeneas

Crocale, a nymph of Diana

Cromlech, Druidical altar

Cronos, See Saturn

Crotona, city of Italy

Cuchulain, Irish hero, called the "Hound of Ireland, "

Culdees', followers of St. Columba, Cumaean Sibyl, seeressof Cumae, consulted by Aeneas, sold Sibylline books to Tarquin

Cupid, child of Venus and god of love

Curoi of Kerry, wise man

Cyane, river, opposed Pluto's passage to Hades

Cybele (Rhea)

Cyclopes, creatures with circular eyes, of whom Homer speaks as agigantic and lawless race of shepherds in Sicily, who devouredhuman beings, they helped Vulcan to forge the thunderbolts of Zeusunder Aetna

Cymbeline, king of ancient Britain

Cynosure (Dog's tail), the Pole star, at tail of ConstellationUrsa Minor

Cynthian mountain top, birthplace of Artemis (Diana) and Apollo

Cyprus, island off the coast of Syria, sacred to Aphrodite

Cyrene, a nymph, mother of Aristaeus

Daedalus, architect of the Cretan Labyrinth, inventor of sails

Daguenet, King Arthur's fool

Dalai Lama, chief pontiff of Thibet

Danae, mother of Perseus by Jupiter

Danaides, the fifty daughters of Danaus, king of Argos, who werebetrothed to the fifty sons of Aegyptus, but were commanded bytheir father to slay each her own husband on the marriage night

Danaus (See Danaides)

Daphne, maiden loved by Apollo, and changed into a laurel tree

Dardanelles, ancient Hellespont

Dardanus, progenitor of the Trojan kings

Dardinel, prince of Zumara

Dawn, See Aurora

Day, an attendant on Phoebus, the Sun

Day star (Hesperus)

Death, See Hela

Deiphobus, son of Priam and Hecuba, the bravest brother of Paris

Dejanira, wife of Hercules

Delos, floating island, birthplace of Apollo and Diana

Delphi, shrine of Apollo, famed for its oracles

Demeter, Greek goddess of marriage and human fertility, identifiedby Romans with Ceres

Demeha, South Wales

Demodocus, bard of Alomous, king of the Phaeaeians

Deucalion, king of Thessaly, who with his wife Pyrrha were theonly pair surviving a deluge sent by Zeus

Dia, island of

Diana (Artemis), goddess of the moon and of the chase, daughter ofJupiter and Latona

Diana of the Hind, antique sculpture in the Louvre, Paris

Diana, temple of

Dictys, a sailor

Didier, king of the Lombards

Dido, queen of Tyre and Carthage, entertained the shipwreckedAeneas

Diomede, Greek hero during Trojan War

Dione, female Titan, mother of Zeus, of Aphrodite (Venus)

Dionysus See Bacchus

Dioscuri, the Twins (See Castor and Pollux)

Dirce, wife of Lycus, king of Thebes, who ordered Amphion andZethus to tie Antiope to a wild bull, but they, learning Antiopeto be their mother, so treated Dirce herself

Dis See Pluto

Discord, apple of, See Eris. 

Discordia, See Eris. 

Dodona, site of an oracle of Zeus (Jupiter)

Dorceus, a dog of Diana

Doris, wife of Nereus

Dragon's teeth sown by Cadmus

Druids, ancient Celtic priests

Dryades (or Dryads), See Wood nymphs

Dryope, changed to a lotus plant, for plucking a lotus--enchantedform of the nymph Lotis

Dubricius, bishop of Caerleon, Dudon, a knight, comrade of Astolpho, Dunwallo Molmu'tius, British king and lawgiver

Durindana, sword of Orlando or Rinaldo

Dwarfs in Wagner's Nibelungen Ring

E

Earth (Gaea); goddess of the

Ebudians, the

Echo, nymph of Diana, shunned by Narcissus, faded to nothing but avoice

Ecklenlied, the

Eddas, Norse mythological records, Ederyn, son of Nudd

Egena, nymph of the Fountain

Eisteddfod, session of Welsh bards and minstrels

Electra, the lost one of the Pleiades, also, sister of Orestes

Eleusian Mysteries, instituted by Ceres, and calculated to awakenfeelings of piety and a cheerful hope of better life in the future

Eleusis, Grecian city

Elgin Marbles, Greek sculptures from the Parthenon of Athens, nowin British Museum, London, placed there by Lord Elgin

Eliaures, enchanter

Elidure, a king of Britain

Elis, ancient Greek city

Elli, old age; the one successful wrestler against Thor

Elphin, son of Gwyddiro

Elves, spiritual beings, of many powers and dispositions--someevil, some good

Elvidnir, the ball of Hela

Elysian Fields, the land of the blest

Elysian Plain, whither the favored of the gods were taken withoutdeath

Elysium, a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, norram. Hither favored heroes, like Menelaus, pass without dying, andlive happy under the rule of Rhadamanthus. In the Latin poetsElysium is part of the lower world, and the residence of theshades of the blessed

Embla, the first woman

Enseladus, giant defeated by Jupiter

Endymion, a beautiful youth beloved by Diana

Enid, wife of Geraint

Enna, vale of home of Proserpine

Enoch, the patriarch

Epidaurus, a town in Argolis, on the Saronic gulf, chief seat ofthe worship of Aeculapius, whose temple was situated near the town

Epimetheus, son of Iapetus, husband of Pandora, with his brotherPrometheus took part in creation of man

Epirus, country to the west of Thessaly, lying along the AdriaticSea

Epopeus, a sailor

Erato, one of the Muses

Erbin of Cornwall, father of Geraint

Erebus, son of Chaos, region of darkness, entrance to Hades

Eridanus, river

Erinys, one of the Furies

Eriphyle, sister of Polynices, bribed to decide on war, in whichher husband was slain

Eris (Discordia), goddess of discord. At the wedding of Peleus andThetis, Eris being uninvited threw into the gathering an apple"For the Fairest, " which was claimed by Hera (Juno), Aphrodite(Venus) and Athena (Minerva) Paris, being called upon forjudgment, awarded it to Aphrodite

Erisichthon, an unbeliever, punished by famine

Eros See Cupid

Erytheia, island

Eryx, a mount, haunt of Venus

Esepus, river in Paphlagonia

Estrildis, wife of Locrine, supplanting divorced Guendolen

Eteocles, son of Oeipus and Jocasta

Etruscans, ancient people of Italy, Etzel, king of the Huns

Euboic Sea, where Hercules threw Lichas, who brought him thepoisoned shirt of Nessus

Eude, king of Aquitaine, ally of Charles Martel

Eumaeus, swineherd of Aeeas

Eumenides, also called Erinnyes, and by the Romans Furiae orDiraae, the Avenging Deities, See Furies

Euphorbus, a Trojan, killed by Menelaus

Euphros'yne, one of the Graces

Europa, daughter of the Phoenician king Agenor, by Zeus the motherof Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Sarpedon

Eurus, the East wind

Euyalus, a gallant Trojan soldier, who with Nisus entered theGrecian camp, both being slain, Eurydice, wife of Orpheus, who, fleeing from an admirer, waskilled by a snake and borne to Tartarus, where Orpheus sought herand was permitted to bring her to earth if he would not look backat her following him, but he did, and she returned to the Shades, Eurylochus, a companion of Ulysses, Eurynome, female Titan, wife of Ophlon

Eurystheus, taskmaster of Hercules, Eurytion, a Centaur (See Hippodamia), Euterpe, Muse who presided over music, Evadne, wife of Capaneus, who flung herself upon his funeral pileand perished with him

Evander, Arcadian chief, befriending Aeneas in Italy, Evnissyen, quarrelsome brother of Branwen, Excalibar, sword of King Arthur, F

Fafner, a giant turned dragon, treasure stealer, by the SolarTheory simply the Darkness who steals the day, Falerina, an enchantress, Fasolt, a giant, brother of Fafner, and killed by him, "Fasti, " Ovid's, a mythological poetic calendar, FATA MORGANA, a mirage

FATES, the three, described as daughters of Night--to indicate thedarkness and obscurity of human destiny--or of Zeus and Themis, that is, "daughters of the just heavens" they were Clo'tho, whospun the thread of life, Lach'esis, who held the thread and fixedits length and At'ropos, who cut it off

FAUNS, cheerful sylvan deities, represented in human form, withsmall horns, pointed ears, and sometimes goat's tail

FAUNUS, son of Picus, grandson of Saturnus, and father of Latinus, worshipped as the protecting deity of agriculture and ofshepherds, and also as a giver of oracles

FAVONIUS, the West wind

FEAR

FENRIS, a wolf, the son of Loki the Evil Principle of Scandinavia, supposed to have personated the element of fire, destructiveexcept when chained

FENSALIR, Freya's palace, called the Hall of the Sea, where werebrought together lovers, husbands, and wives who had beenseparated by death

FERRAGUS, a giant, opponent of Orlando

FERRAU, one of Charlemagne's knights

FERREX. Brother of Porrex, the two sons of Leir

FIRE WORSHIPPERS, of ancient Persia, See Parsees FLOLLO, Romantribune in Gaul

FLORA, Roman goddess of flowers and spring

FLORDELIS, fair maiden beloved by Florismart

FLORISMART, Sir, a brave knight, FLOSSHILDA, one of the Rhine daughters

FORTUNATE FIELDS

FORTUNATE ISLANDS (See Elysian Plain)

FORUM, market place and open square for public meetings in Rome, surrounded by court houses, palaces, temples, etc

FRANCUS, son of Histion, grandson of Japhet, great grandson ofNoah, legendary ancestor of the Franks, or French

FREKI, one of Odin's two wolves

FREY, or Freyr, god of the sun

FREYA, Norse goddess of music, spring, and flowers

FRICKA, goddess of marriage

FRIGGA, goddess who presided over smiling nature, sendingsunshine, rain, and harvest

FROH, one of the Norse gods

FRONTI'NO, Rogero's horse

FURIES (Erinnyes), the three retributive spirits who punishedcrime, represented as snaky haired old woman, named Alecto, Megaeira, and Tisiphone

FUSBERTA, Rinaldo's sword

G

GAEA, or Ge, called Tellus by the Romans, the personification ofthe earth, described as the first being that sprang fiom Chaos, and gave birth to Uranus (Heaven) and Pontus (Sea)

GAHARIET, knight of Arthur's court

GAHERIS, knight

GALAFRON, King of Cathay, father of Angelica

GALAHAD, Sir, the pure knight of Arthur's Round Table, who safelytook the Siege Perilous (which See)

GALATEA, a Nereid or sea nymph

GALATEA, statue carved and beloved by Pygmalion

GALEN, Greek physician and philosophical writer

GALLEHANT, King of the Marches

GAMES, national athletic contests in Greece--Olympian, at Olympia, Pythian, near Delphi, seat of Apollo's oracle, Isthmian, on theCorinthian Isthmus, Nemean, at Nemea in Argolis

GAN, treacherous Duke of Maganza

GANELON of Mayence, one of Charlemagne's knights

GANGES, river in India

GANO, a peer of Charlemagne

GANYMEDE, the most beautiful of all mortals, carried off toOlympus that he might fill the cup of Zeus and live among theimmortal gods

GARETH, Arthur's knight

GAUDISSO, Sultan

GAUL, ancient France

GAUTAMA, Prince, the Buddha

GAWAIN, Arthur's knight

GAWL, son of Clud, suitor for Rhiannon

GEMINI (See Castor), constellation created by Jupiter from thetwin brothers after death, 158

GENGHIS Khan, Tartar conqueror

GENIUS, in Roman belief, the protective Spirit of each individualman, See Juno

GEOFFREY OF MON'MOUTH, translator into Latin of the Welsh Historyof the Kings of Britain (1150)

GERAINT, a knight of King Arthur

GERDA, wife of Frey

GERI, one of Odin's two wolves

GERYON, a three bodied monster

GESNES, navigator sent for Isoude the Fair

GIALLAR HORN, the trumpet that Heimdal will blow at the judgmentday

GIANTS, beings of monstrous size and of fearful countenances, represented as in constant opposition to the gods, in Wagner'sNibelungen Ring

GIBICHUNG RACE, ancestors of Alberich

GIBRALTAR, great rock and town at southwest corner of Spain (SeePillars of Hercules)

GILDAS, a scholar of Arthur's court

GIRARD, son of Duke Sevinus

GLASTONBURY, where Arthur died

GLAUCUS, a fisherman, loving Scylla

GLEIPNIR, magical chain on the wolf Fenris

GLEWLWYD, Arthur's porter

GOLDEN FLEECE, of ram used for escape of children of Athamas, named Helle and Phryxus (which See), after sacrifice of ram toJupiter, fleece was guarded by sleepless dragon and gained byJason and Argonauts (which See, also Helle)

GONERIL, daughter of Leir

GORDIAN KNOT, tying up in temple the wagon of Gordius, he whocould untie it being destined to be lord of Asia, it was cut byAlexander the Great, 48

Gordius, a countryman who, arriving in Phrygia in a wagon, wasmade king by the people, thus interpreting an oracle, 48

Gorgons, three monstrous females, with huge teeth, brazen clawsand snakes for hair, sight of whom turned beholders to stone, Medusa, the most famous, slain by Perseus

Gorlois, Duke of Tintadel

Gouvernail, squire of Isabella, queen of Lionesse, protector ofher son Tristram while young, and his squire in knighthood

Graal, the Holy, cup from which the Saviour drank at Last Supper, taken by Joseph of Arimathea to Europe, and lost, its recoverybecoming a sacred quest for Arthur's knights

Graces, three goddesses who enhanced the enjoyments of life byrefinement and gentleness; they were Aglaia (brilliance), Euphrosyne (joy), and Thalia (bloom)

Gradas'so, king of Sericane

Graeae, three gray haired female watchers for the Gorgons, withone movable eye and one tooth between the three

Grand Lama, Buddhist pontiff in Thibet

Grendel, monster slain by Beowulf

Gryphon (griffin), a fabulous animal, with the body of a lion andthe head and wings of an eagle, dwelling in the Rhipaeanmountains, between the Hyperboreans and the one eyed Arimaspians, and guarding the gold of the North, Guebers, Persian fire worshippers, Guendolen, wife of Locrine, Guenevere, wife of King Arthur, beloved by Launcelot, Guerin, lord of Vienne, father of Oliver, Guiderius, son of Cymbeline, Guillamurius, king in Ireland, Guimier, betrothed of Caradoc, Gullinbursti, the boar drawing Frey's car, Gulltopp, Heimdell's horse, Gunfasius, King of the Orkneys, Ganther, Burgundian king, brother of Kriemhild, Gutrune, half sister to Hagen, Gwern son of Matholch and Branwen, Gwernach the Giant, Gwiffert Petit, ally of Geraint, Gwyddno, Garanhir, King of Gwaelod, Gwyr, judge in the court of Arthur, Gyoll, river, H

Hades, originally the god of the nether world--the name laterused to designate the gloomy subterranean land of the dead, Haemon, son of Creon of Thebes, and lover of Antigone, Haemonian city, Haemus, Mount, northern boundary of Thrace, Hagan, a principal character in the Nibelungen Lied, slayer ofSiegfried, HALCYONE, daughter of Aeneas, and the beloved wife of Ceyx, who, when he was drowned, flew to his floating body, and the pityinggods changed them both to birds (kingfishers), who nest at seaduring a certain calm week in winter ("halcyon weather")

HAMADRYADS, tree-nymphs or wood-nymphs, See Nymphs

HARMONIA, daughter of Mars and Venus, wife of Cadmus

HAROUN AL RASCHID, Caliph of Arabia, contemporary of Charlemagne

HARPIES, monsters, with head and bust of woman, but wings, legsand tail of birds, seizing souls of the wicked, or punishingevildoers by greedily snatching or defiling their food

HARPOCRATES, Egyptian god, Horus

HEBE, daughter of Juno, cupbearer to the gods

HEBRUS, ancient name of river Maritzka

HECATE, a mighty and formidable divinity, supposed to send atnight all kinds of demons and terrible phantoms from the lowerworld

HECTOR, son of Priam and champion of Troy

HECTOR, one of Arthur's knights

HECTOR DE MARYS', a knight

HECUBA, wife of Priam, king of Troy, to whom she bore Hector, Paris, and many other children

HEGIRA, flight of Mahomet from Mecca to Medina (622 AD), era fromwhich Mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of Christ

HEIDRUN, she goat, furnishing mead for slain heroes in Valhalla

HEIMDALL, watchman of the gods

HEL, the lower world of Scandinavia, to which were consigned thosewho had not died in battle

HELA (Death), the daughter of Loki and the mistress of theScandinavian Hel

HELEN, daughter of Jupiter and Leda, wife of Menelaus, carriedoff by Paris and cause of the Trojan War

HELENUS, son of Priam and Hecuba, celebrated for his propheticpowers

HELIADES, sisters of Phaeton

HELICON, Mount, in Greece, residence of Apollo and the Muses, with fountains of poetic inspiration, Aganippe and Hippocrene

HELIOOPOLIS, city of the Sun, in Egypt

HELLAS, Gieece

HELLE, daughter of Thessalian King Athamas, who, escaping fromcruel father with her brother Phryxus, on ram with golden fleece, fell into the sea strait since named for her (See Golden Fleece)

HELLESPONt, narrow strait between Europe and Asia Minor, named forHelle

HENGIST, Saxon invader of Britain, 449 AD

HEPHAESTOS, See VULCAN

HERA, called Juno by the Romans, a daughter of Cronos (Saturn)and Rhea, and sister and wife of Jupiter, See JUNO

HERCULES, athletic hero, son of Jupiter and Alcmena, achievedtwelve vast labors and many famous deeds

HEREWARD THE WAKE, hero of the Saxons

HERMES (Mercury), messenger of the gods, deity of commerce, science, eloquence, trickery, theft, and skill generally

HERMIONE, daughter of Menelaus and Helen

HERMOD, the nimble, son of Odin

HERO, a priestess of Venus, beloved of Leander

HERODOTUS, Greek historian

HESIOD, Greek poet

HESPERIA, ancient name for Italy

HESPERIDES (See Apples of the Hesperides)

HESPERUS, the evening star (also called Day Star)

HESTIA, cilled Vesta by the Romans, the goddess of the hearth

HILDEBRAND, German magician and champion

HINDU TRIAD, Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva

HIPPOCRENE (See Helicon)

HIPPODAMIA, wife of Pirithous, at whose wedding the Centaursoffered violence to the bride, causing a great battle

HIPPOGRIFF, winged horse, with eagle's head and claws

HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons

Hippolytus, son of Thesus

HIPPOMENES, who won Atalanta in foot race, beguiling her withgolden apples thrown for her to

HISTION, son of Japhet

HODUR, blind man, who, fooled by

Loki, threw a mistletoe twig at Baldur, killing him

HOEL, king of Brittany

HOMER, the blind poet of Greece, about 850 B C

HOPE (See PANDORA)

HORAE See HOURS

HORSA, with Hengist, invader of Britain

HORUS, Egyptian god of the sun

HOUDAIN, Tristram's dog

HRINGHAM, Baldur's ship

HROTHGAR, king of Denmark

HUGI, who beat Thialfi in foot races

HUGIN, one of Odin's two ravens

HUNDING, husband of Sieglinda

HUON, son of Duke Sevinus

HYACINTHUS, a youth beloved by Apollo, and accidentally killed byhim, changed in death to the flower, hyacinth

HYADES, Nysaean nymphs, nurses of infant Bacchus, rewarded bybeing placed as cluster of stars in the heavens

HYALE, a nymph of Diana

HYDRA, nine headed monster slain by Hercules

HYGEIA, goddess of health, daughter of Aesculapius

HYLAS, a youth detained by nymphs of spring where he sought water

HYMEN, the god of marriage, imagined as a handsome youth andinvoked in bridal songs

HYMETTUS, mountain in Attica, near Athens, celebrated for itsmarble and its honey

HYPERBOREANS, people of the far North

HYPERION, a Titan, son of Uranus and Ge, and father of Helios, Selene, and Eos, cattle of, Hyrcania, Prince of, betrothed to Clarimunda

Hyrieus, king in Greece, I

Iapetus, a Titan, son of Uranus and Ge, and father of Atlas, Prometheus, Epimetheus, and Menoetius, Iasius, father of Atalanta

Ibycus, a poet, story of, and the cranes

Icaria, island of the Aegean Sea, one of the Sporades

Icarius, Spartan prince, father of Penelope

Icarus, son of Daedalus, he flew too near the sun with artificialwings, and, the wax melting, he fell into the sea

Icelos, attendant of Morpheus

Icolumkill SEE Iona

Ida, Mount, a Trojan hill

Idaeus, a Trojan herald

Idas, son of Aphareus and Arene, and brother of Lynceus Idu'na, wife of Bragi

Igerne, wife of Gorlois, and mother, by Uther, of Arthur

Iliad, epic poem of the Trojan War, by Homer

Ilioheus, a son of Niobe

Ilium SEE Troy

Illyria, Adriatic countries north of Greece

Imogen, daughter of Pandrasus, wife of Trojan Brutus

Inachus, son of Oceanus and Tethys, and father of Phoroneus andIo, also first king of Argos, and said to have given his name tothe river Inachus

INCUBUS, an evil spirit, supposed to lie upon persons in theirsleep

INDRA, Hindu god of heaven, thunder, lightning, storm and rain

INO, wife of Athamas, fleeing from whom with infant son she spranginto the sea and was changed to Leucothea

IO, changed to a heifer by Jupiter

IOBATES, King of Lycia

IOLAUS, servant of Hercules

IOLE, sister of Dryope

IONA, or Icolmkill, a small northern island near Scotland, whereSt Columba founded a missionary monastery (563 AD)

IONIA, coast of Asia Minor

IPHIGENIA, daughter of Agamemnon, offered as a sacrifice butcarried away by Diana

IPHIS, died for love of Anaxarete, 78

IPHITAS, friend of Hercules, killed by him

IRIS, goddess of the rainbow, messenger of Juno and Zeus

IRONSIDE, Arthur's knight

ISABELLA, daughter of king of Galicia

ISIS, wife of Osiris, described as the giver of death

ISLES OF THE BLESSED

ISMARUS, first stop of Ulysses, returning from Trojan WarISME'NOS, a son of Niobe, slain by Apollo

ISOLIER, friend of Rinaldo

ISOUDE THE FAIR, beloved of Tristram

ISOUDE OF THE WHITE HANDS, married to Tristram

ISTHMIAN GAMES, See GAMES

ITHACA, home of Ulysses and Penelope

IULUS, son of Aeneas

IVO, Saracen king, befriending Rinaldo

IXION, once a sovereign of Thessaly, sentenced in Tartarus to belashed with serpents to a wheel which a strong wind drovecontinually around

J

JANICULUM, Roman fortress on the Janiculus, a hill on the otherside of the Tiber

JANUS, a deity from the earliest times held in high estimation bythe Romans, temple of

JAPHET (Iapetus)

JASON, leader of the Argonauts, seeking the Golden Fleece

JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA, who bore the Holy Graal to Europe

JOTUNHEIM, home of the giants in Northern mythology

JOVE (Zeus), chief god of Roman and Grecian mythology, See JUPITER

JOYOUS GARDE, residence of Sir Launcelot of the Lake

JUGGERNAUT, Hindu deity

JUNO, the particular guardian spirit of each woman (See Genius)

JUNO, wife of Jupiter, queen of the gods

JUPITER, JOVIS PATER, FATHER JOVE, JUPITER and JOVE usedinterchangeably, at Dodona, statue of the Olympian

JUPITER AMMON (See Ammon)

JUPITER CAPITOLINUS, temple of, preserving the Sibylline books

JUSTICE, See THEMIS

K

KADYRIATH, advises King Arthur

KAI, son of Kyner

KALKI, tenth avatar of Vishnu

KAY, Arthur's steward and a knight

KEDALION, guide of Orion

KERMAN, desert of

KICVA, daughter of Gwynn Gloy

KILWICH, son of Kilydd

KILYDD, son of Prince Kelyddon, of Wales

KNEPH, spirit or breath

KNIGHTS, training and life of

KRIEMHILD, wife of Siegfried

KRISHNA, eighth avatar of Vishnu, Hindu deity of fertility innature and mankind

KYNER, father of Kav

KYNON, son of Clydno

L

LABYRINTH, the enclosed maze of passageways where roamed theMinotaur of Crete, killed by Theseus with aid of Ariadne

LACHESIS, one of the Fates (which See)

LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN, tale told by Kynon

LAERTES, father of Ulysses

LAESTRYGONIANS, savages attacking Ulysses

LAIUS, King of Thebes

LAMA, holy man of Thibet

LAMPETIA, daughter of Hyperion LAOC'OON, a priest of Neptune, inTroy, who warned the Trojans against the Wooden Horse (which See), but when two serpents came out of the sea and strangled him andhis two sons, the people listened to the Greek spy Sinon, andbrought the fatal Horse into the town

LAODAMIA, daughter of Acastus and wife of Protesilaus

LAODEGAN, King of Carmalide, helped by Arthur and Merlin

LAOMEDON, King of Troy

LAPITHAE, Thessalonians, whose king had invited the Centaurs tohis daughter's wedding but who attacked them for offering violenceto the bride

LARES, household deities

LARKSPUR, flower from the blood of Ajax

LATINUS, ruler of Latium, where Aeneas landed in Italy

LATMOS, Mount, where Diana fell in love with Endymion

LATONA, mother of Apollo

LAUNCELOT, the most famous knight of the Round Table

LAUSUS, son of Mezentius, killed by Aeneas

LAVINIA, daughter of Latinus and wife of Aeneas

LAVINIUM, Italian city named for Lavinia

LAW, See THEMIS

LEANDER, a youth of Abydos, who, swimming the Hellespont to seeHero, his love, was drowned

LEBADEA, site of the oracle of Trophomus

LEBYNTHOS, Aegean island

LEDA, Queen of Sparta, wooed by Jupiter in the form of a swan

LEIR, mythical King of Britain, original of Shakespeare's Lear

LELAPS, dog of Cephalus

LEMNOS, large island in the Aegean Sea, sacred to Vulcan

LEMURES, the spectres or spirits of the dead

LEO, Roman emperor, Greek prince

LETHE, river of Hades, drinking whose water caused forgetfulness

LEUCADIA, a promontory, whence Sappho, disappointed in love, wassaid to have thrown herself into the sea

LEUCOTHEA, a sea goddess, invoked by sailors for protection (SeeIno)

LEWIS, son of Charlemagne

LIBER, ancient god of fruitfulness

LIBETHRA, burial place of Orpheus

LIBYA, Greek name for continent of Africa in general

LIBYAN DESERT, in Africa

LIBYAN OASIS

LICHAS, who brought the shirt of Nessus to Hercules

LIMOURS, Earl of

LINUS, musical instructor of Hercules

LIONEL, knight of the Round Table

LLYR, King of Britain

LOCRINE, son of Brutus in Albion, king of Central England

LOEGRIA, kingdom of (England)

LOGESTILLA, a wise lady, who entertained Rogero and his friends

LOGI, who vanquished Loki in an eating contest

LOKI, the Satan of Norse mythology, son of the giant Farbanti

LOT, King, a rebel chief, subdued by King Arthur, then a loyalknight

LOTIS, a nymph, changed to a lotus-plant and in that form pluckedby Dryope

LOTUS EATERS, soothed to indolence, companions of Ulysses landingamong them lost all memory of home and had to be dragged awaybefore they would continue their voyage

LOVE (Eros) issued from egg of Night, and with arrows and torchproduced life and joy

LUCAN, one of Arthur's knights

Lucius Tiberius, Roman procurator in Britain demanding tributefrom Arthur

LUD, British king, whose capital was called Lud's Town (London)

LUDGATE, city gate where Lud was buried, 387

LUNED, maiden who guided Owain to the Lady of the Fountain

LYCAHAS, a turbulent sailor

LYCAON, son of Priam

LYCIA, a district in Southern Asia Minor

LYCOMODES, king of the Dolopians, who treacherously slew Theseus

LYCUS, usurping King of Thebes

LYNCEUS, one of the sons of Aegyptus

M

MABINOGEON, plural of Mabinogi, fairy tales and romances of theWelsh

MABON, son of Modron

MACHAON, son of Aesculapius

MADAN, son of Guendolen

MADOC, a forester of King Arthur

MADOR, Scottish knight

MAELGAN, king who imprisoned Elphin

MAEONIA, ancient Lydia

MAGI, Persian priests

MAHADEVA, same as Siva

MAHOMET, great prophet of Arabia, born in Mecca, 571 AD, proclaimed worship of God instead of idols, spread his religionthrough disciples and then by force till it prevailed, withArabian dominion, over vast regions in Asia, Africa, and Spain inEurope

MAIA, daughter of Atlas and Pleione, eldest and most beautiful ofthe Pleiades

MALAGIGI the Enchanter, one of Charlemagne's knights

MALEAGANS, false knight

MALVASIUS, King of Iceland

MAMBRINO, with invisible helmet

MANAWYD DAN, brother of King Vran, of London

MANDRICARDO, son of Agrican

MANTUA, in Italy, birthplace of Virgil

MANU, ancestor of mankind

MARATHON, where Theseus and Pirithous met

MARK, King of Cornwall, husband of Isoude the Fair

MARO See VIRGIL

MARPHISA, sister of Rogero

MARSILIUS, Spanish king, treacherous foe of Charlemagne

MARSYAS, inventor of the flute, who challenged Apollo to musicalcompetition, and, defeated, was flayed alive

MATSYA, the Fish, first avatar of Vishnu

MEANDER, Grecian river

MEDE, A, princess and sorceress who aided Jason

MEDORO, a young Moor, who wins Angelica

MEDUSA, one of the Gorgons

MEGAERA, one of the Furies

MELAMPUS, a Spartan dog, the first mortal endowed with propheticpowers

MELANTHUS, steersman for Bacchus

MELEAGER, one of the Argonauts (See Althaea)

MELIADUS, King of Lionesse, near Cornwall

MELICERTES, infant son of Ino. Changed to Palaemon (See Ino, Leucothea, and Palasmon)

MELISSA, priestess at Merlin's tomb

MELISSEUS, a Cretan king

MELPOMENE, one of the Muses

MEMNON, the beautiful son of Tithonus and Eos (Aurora), and kingof the Ethiopians, slain in Trojan War

MEMPHIS, Egyptian city

MENELAUS, son of King of Sparta, husband of Helen

MENOECEUS, son of Creon, voluntary victim in war to gain successfor his father

MENTOR, son of Alcimus and a faithful friend of Ulysses

MERCURY (See HERMES)

MERLIN, enchanter

MEROPE, daughter of King of Chios, beloved by Orion

MESMERISM, likened to curative oracle of Aesculapius at Epidaurus

METABUS, father of Camilla

METAMORPHOSES, Ovid's poetical legends of mythicaltransformations, a large source of our knowledge of classicmythology

METANIRA, a mother, kind to Ceres seeking Proserpine

METEMPSYCHOSIS, transmigration of souls--rebirth of dying menand women in forms of animals or human beings

METIS, Prudence, a spouse of Jupiter

MEZENTIUS, a brave but cruel soldier, opposing Aeneas in Italy

MIDAS

MIDGARD, the middle world of the Norsemen

MIDGARD SERPENT, a sea monster, child of Loki

MILKY WAY, starred path across the sky, believed to be road topalace of the gods

MILO, a great athlete

MLON, father of Orlando

MILTON, John, great English poet, whose History of England is herelargely used

MIME, one of the chief dwarfs of ancient German mythology

MINERVA (Athene), daughter of Jupiter, patroness of health, learning, and wisdom

MINOS, King of Crete

MINO TAUR, monster killed by Theseus

MISTLETOE, fatal to Baldur

MNEMOSYNE, one of the Muses

MODESTY, statue to

MODRED, nephew of King Arthur

MOLY, plant, powerful against sorcery

MOMUS, a deity whose delight was to jeer bitterly at gods and men

MONAD, the "unit" of Pythagoras

MONSTERS, unnatural beings, evilly disposed to men

MONTALBAN, Rinaldo's castle

MONTH, the, attendant upon the Sun

MOON, goddess of, see DIANA

MORAUNT, knight, an Irish champion

MORGANA, enchantress, the Lady of the Lake in "Orlando Furioso, "same as Morgane Le Fay in tales of Arthur

MORGANE LE FAY, Queen of Norway, King Arthur's sister, anenchantress

MORGAN TUD, Arthur's chief physician

MORPHEUS, son of Sleep and god of dreams

MORTE D'ARTHUr, romance, by Sir Thomas Mallory

MULCIBER, Latin name of Vulcan

MULL, Island of

MUNIN, one of Odin's two ravens

MUSAEUS, sacred poet, son of Orpheus

MUSES, The, nine goddesses presiding over poetry, etc--Calliope, epic poetry, Clio, history, Erato, love poetry, Euterpe, lyricpoetry; Melpomene, tragedy, Polyhymnia, oratory and sacred songTerpsichore, choral song and dance, Thalia, comedy and idyls, Urania, astronomy

MUSPELHEIM, the fire world of the Norsemen

MYCENAS, ancient Grecian city, of which Agamemnon was king

MYRDDIN (Merlin)

MYRMIDONS, bold soldiers of Achilles

MYSIA, Greek district on northwest coast of Asia Minor

MYTHOLOGY, origin of, collected myths, describing gods of earlypeoples

N

NAIADS, water nymphs

NAMO, Duke of Bavaria, one of Charlemagne's knights

NANNA, wife of Baldur

NANTERS, British king

NANTES, site of Caradoc's castle

NAPE, a dog of Diana

NARCISSUS, who died of unsatisfied love for his own image in thewater

NAUSICAA, daughter of King Alcinous, who befriended Ulysses

NAUSITHOUS, king of Phaeacians

NAXOS, Island of

NEGUS, King of Abyssinia

NEMEA, forest devastated by a lion killed by Hercules

NEMEAN GAMES, held in honor of Jupiter and Hercules

NEMEAN LION, killed by Hercules

NEMESIS, goddess of vengeance

NENNIUS, British combatant of Caesar

NEOPTOLEMUS, son of Achilles

NEPENTHE, ancient drug to cause forgetfulness of pain or distress

NEPHELE, mother of Phryxus and Helle

NEPHTHYS, Egyptian goddess

NEPTUNE, identical with Poseidon, god of the sea

NEREIDS, sea nymphs, daughters of Nereus and Doris

NEREUS, a sea god

NESSUS, a centaur killed by Hercules, whose jealous wife sent hima robe or shirt steeped in the blood of Nessus, which poisoned him

NESTOR, king of Pylos, renowned for his wisdom, justice, andknowledge of war

NIBELUNGEN HOARD, treasure seized by Siegfried from theNibelungs, buried in the Rhine by Hagan after killing Siegfried, and lost when Hagan was killed by Kriemhild, theme of Wagner'sfour music dramas, "The Ring of the Nibelungen, "

NIBELUNGEN LIED, German epic, giving the same nature myth as theNorse Volsunga Saga, concerning the Hoard

NIBELUNGEN RING, Wagner's music dramas

NIBELUNGS, the, a race of Northern dwarfs

NIDHOGGE, a serpent in the lower world that lives on the dead

NIFFLEHEIM, mist world of the Norsemen, the Hades of absentspirits

NILE, Egyptian river

NIOBE, daughter of Tantalus, proud Queen of Thebes, whose sevensons and seven daughters were killed by Apollo and Diana, at whichAmphion, her husband, killed himself, and Niobe wept until she wasturned to stone

NISUS, King of Megara

NOAH, as legendary ancestor of French, Roman, German, and Britishpeoples

NOMAN, name assumed by Ulysses

NORNS, the three Scandinavian Fates, Urdur (the past), Verdandi(the present), and Skuld (the future)

NOTHUNG, magic sword

NOTUS, southwest wind

NOX, daughter of Chaos and sister of Erebus, personification ofnight

Numa, second king of Rome

NYMPHS, beautiful maidens, lesser divinities of nature Dryads andHamadryads, tree nymphs, Naiads, spring, brook, and river nymphs, Nereids, sea nymphs Oreads, mountain nymphs or hill nymphs

O

OCEANUS, a Titan, ruling watery elements

OCYROE, a prophetess, daughter of Chiron

ODERIC

ODIN, chief of the Norse gods

ODYAR, famous Biscayan hero

ODYSSEUS See ULYSSES

ODYSSEY, Homer's poem, relating the wanderings of Odysseus(Ulysses) on returning from Trojan War

OEDIPUS, Theban hero, who guessed the riddle of the Sphinx (whichSee), becoming King of Thebes

OENEUS, King of Calydon

OENONE, nymph, married by Paris in his youth, and abandoned forHelen

OENOPION, King of Chios

OETA, Mount, scene of Hercules' death

OGIER, the Dane, one of the paladins of Charlemagne

OLIVER, companion of Orlando

OLWEN, wife of Kilwich

OLYMPIA, a small plain in Elis, where the Olympic games werecelebrated

OLYMPIADS, periods between Olympic games (four years)

OLYMPIAN GAMES, See GAMES

OLYMPUS, dwelling place of the dynasty of gods of which Zeus wasthe head

OMPHALE, queen of Lydia, daughter of Iardanus and wife of Tmolus

OPHION, king of the Titans, who ruled Olympus till dethroned bythe gods Saturn and Rhea

OPS See RHEA

ORACLES, answers from the gods to questions from seekers forknowledge or advice for the future, usually in equivocal form, soas to fit any event, also places where such answers were givenforth usually by a priest or priestess

ORC, a sea monster, foiled by Rogero when about to devour Angelica

OREADS, nymphs of mountains and hills

ORESTES, son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, because of his crimein killing his mother, he was pursued by the Furies until purifiedby Minerva

ORION, youthful giant, loved by Diana, Constellation

ORITHYIA, a nymph, seized by Boreas

ORLANDO, a famous knight and nephew of Charlemagne

ORMUZD (Greek, Oromasdes), son of Supreme Being, source of goodas his brother Ahriman (Arimanes) was of evil, in Persian orZoroastrian religion

ORPHEUS, musician, son of Apollo and Calliope, See EURYDICE

OSIRIS, the most beneficent of the Egyptian gods

OSSA, mountain of Thessaly

OSSIAN, Celtic poet of the second or third century

OVID, Latin poet (See Metamorphoses)

OWAIN, knight at King Arthur's court

OZANNA, a knight of Arthur

P

PACTOLUS, river whose sands were changed to gold by Midas

PAEON, a name for both Apollo and Aesculapius, gods of medicine, PAGANS, heathen

PALADINS or peers, knights errant

PALAEMON, son of Athamas and Ino

PALAMEDES, messenger sent to call Ulysses to the Trojan War

PALAMEDES, Saracen prince at Arthur's court

PALATINE, one of Rome's Seven Hills

PALES, goddess presiding over cattle and pastures

PALINURUS, faithful steersman of Aeeas

PALLADIUM, properly any image of Pallas Athene, but speciallyapplied to an image at Troy, which was stolen by Ulysses andDiomedes

PALLAS, son of Evander

PALLAS A THE'NE (Minerva)

PAMPHA GUS, a dog of Diana

PAN, god of nature and the universe

PANATHENAEA, festival in honor of Pallas Athene (Minerva)

PANDEAN PIPES, musical instrument of reeds, made by Pan inmemory of Syrinx

PANDORA (all gifted), first woman, dowered with gifts by everygod, yet entrusted with a box she was cautioned not to open, but, curious, she opened it, and out flew all the ills of humanity, leaving behind only Hope, which remained

PANDRASUS, a king in Greece, who persecuted Trojan exiles underBrutus, great grandson of Aeneas, until they fought, captured him, and, with his daughter Imogen as Brutus' wife, emigrated to Albion(later called Britain)

PANOPE, plain of

PANTHUS, alleged earlier incarnation of Pythagoras

PAPHLAGNIA, ancient country in Asia Minor, south of Black Sea

PAPHOS, daughter of Pygmalion and Galatea (both of which, See)

PARCAE See FATES

PARIAHS, lowest caste of Hindus

PARIS, son of Priam and Hecuba, who eloped with Helen (which. See)

PARNASSIAN LAUREl, wreath from Parnassus, crown awarded tosuccessful poets

PARNASSUS, mountain near Delphi, sacred to Apollo and the Muses

PARSEES, Persian fire worshippers (Zoroastrians), of whom thereare still thousands in Persia and India

PARTHENON, the temple of Athene Parthenos ("the Virgin") on theAcropolis of Athens

PASSEBREUL, Tristram's horse

PATROCLUS, friend of Achilles, killed by Hector

PECHEUR, King, uncle of Perceval

PEERS, the

PEG A SUS, winged horse, born from the sea foam and the blood ofMedusa

PELEUS, king of the Myrmidons, father of Achilles by Thetis

PELIAS, usurping uncle of Jason

PELION, mountain

PELLEAS, knight of Arthur

PENATES, protective household deities of the Romans

PENDRAGON, King of Britain, elder brother of Uther Pendragon, who succeeded him

PENELOPE, wife of Ulysses, who, waiting twenty years for hisreturn from the Trojan War, put off the suitors for her hand bypromising to choose one when her weaving was done, but unravelledat night what she had woven by day

PENEUS, river god, river

PENTHESILEA, queen of Amazons

PENTHEUS, king of Thebes, having resisted the introduction ofthe worship of Bacchus into his kingdom, was driven mad by the god

PENUS, Roman house pantry, giving name to the Penates

PEPIN, father of Charlemagne

PEPLUS, sacred robe of Minerva

PERCEVAL, a great knight of Arthur

PERDIX, inventor of saw and compasses

PERIANDER, King of Corinuh, friend of Arion

PERIPHETES, son of Vulcan, killed by Theseus

PERSEPHONE, goddess of vegetation, 8 See Pioserpine

PERSEUS, son of Jupiter and Danae, slayer of the Gorgon Medusa, deliverer of Andromeda from a sea monster, 116 122, 124, 202

PHAEACIANS, people who entertained Ulysses

PHAEDRA, faithless and cruel wife of Theseus

PHAETHUSA, sister of Phaeton, 244

PHAETON, son of Phoebus, who dared attempt to drive his father'ssun chariot

PHANTASOS, a son of Somnus, bringing strange images to sleepingmen

PHAON, beloved by Sappho

PHELOT, knight of Wales

PHEREDIN, friend of Tristram, unhappy lover of Isoude

PHIDIAS, famous Greek sculptor

PHILEMON, husband of Baucis

PHILOCTETES, warrior who lighted the fatal pyre of Hercules

PHILOE, burial place of Osiris

PHINEUS, betrothed to Andromeda

PHLEGETHON, fiery river of Hades

PHOCIS

PHOEBE, one of the sisters of Phaeton

PHOEBUS (Apollo), god of music, prophecy, and archery, the sungod

PHOENIX, a messenger to Achilles, also, a miraculous bird dyingin fire by its own act and springing up alive from its own ashes

PHORBAS, a companion of Aeneas, whose form was assumed by Neptunein luring Palinuras the helmsman from his roost

PHRYXUS, brother of Helle

PINABEL, knight

PILLARS OF HERCULES, two mountains--Calpe, now the Rock ofGibraltar, southwest corner of Spain in Europe, and Abyla, facingit in Africa across the strait

PINDAR, famous Greek poet

PINDUS, Grecian mountain

PIRENE, celebrated fountain at Corinth

PIRITHOUS, king of the Lapithae in Thessaly, and friend ofTheseus, husband of Hippodamia

PLEASURE, daughter of Cupid and Psyche

PLEIADES, seven of Diana's nymphs, changed into stars, one beinglost

PLENTY, the Horn of

PLEXIPPUS, brother of Althea

PLINY, Roman naturalist

PLUTO, the same as Hades, Dis, etc. God of the Infernal Regions

PLUTUS, god of wealth

PO, Italian river

POLE STAR

POLITES, youngest son of Priam of Troy

POLLUX, Castor and (Dioscuri, the Twins) (See Castor)

POLYDECTES, king of Seriphus

POLYDORE, slain kinsman of Aeneas, whose blood nourished a bushthat bled when broken

POLYHYMNIA, Muse of oratory and sacred song

POLYIDUS, soothsayer

POLYNICES, King of Thebes

POLYPHEMUS, giant son of Neptune

POLYXENA, daughter of King Priam of Troy

POMONA, goddess of fruit trees (See VERTUMNUS)

PORREX and FER'REX, sons of Leir, King of Britain

PORTUNUS, Roman name for Palaemon

POSEIDON (Neptune), ruler of the ocean

PRECIPICE, threshold of Helas hall

PRESTER JOHN, a rumored priest or presbyter, a Christian pontiffin Upper Asia, believed in but never found

PRIAM, king of Troy

PRIWEN, Arthur's shield

PROCRIS, beloved but jealous wife of Cephalus

PROCRUSTES, who seized travellers and bound them on his iron bed, stretching the short ones and cutting short the tall, thus alsohimself served by Theseus

PROETUS, jealous of Bellerophon

PROMETHEUS, creator of man, who stole fire from heaven for man'suse

PROSERPINE, the same as Persephone, goddess of all growingthings, daughter of Ceres, carried off by Pluto

PROTESILAUS, slain by Hector the Trojan, allowed by the gods toreturn for three hours' talk with his widow Laodomia

PROTEUS, the old man of the sea

PRUDENCE (Metis), spouse of Jupiter

PRYDERI, son of Pwyll

PSYCHE, a beautiful maiden, personification of the human soul, sought by Cupid (Love), to whom she responded, lost him bycuriosity to see him (as he came to her only by night), butfinally through his prayers was made immortal and restored to him, a symbol of immortality

PURANAS, Hindu Scriptures

PWYLL, Prince of Dyved

PYGMALION, sculptor in love with a statue he had made, brought tolife by Venus, brother of Queen Dido

PYGMIES, nation of dwarfs, at war with the Cranes

PYLADES, son of Straphius, friend of Orestes

PYRAMUS, who loved Thisbe, next door neighbor, and, their parentsopposing, they talked through cracks in the house wall, agreeingto meet in the near by woods, where Pyramus, finding a bloody veiland thinking Thisbe slain, killed himself, and she, seeing hisbody, killed herself (Burlesqued in Shakespeare's "MidsummerNight's Dream")

PYRRHA, wife of Deucalion

PYRRHUS (Neoptolemus), son of Achilles

PYTHAGORAS, Greek philosopher (540 BC), who thought numbers to bethe essence and principle of all things, and taught transmigrationof souls of the dead into new life as human or animal beings

PYTHIA, priestess of Apollo at Delphi

PYTHIAN GAMES

PYTHIAN ORACLE

PYTHON, serpent springing from Deluge slum, destroyed by Apollo

Q

QUIRINUS (from quiris, a lance or spear), a war god, said to beRomulus, founder of Rome

R

RABICAN, noted horse

RAGNAROK, the twilight (or ending) of the gods

RAJPUTS, minor Hindu caste

REGAN, daughter of Leir

REGILLUS, lake in Latium, noted for battle fought near bybetween the Romans and the Latins

REGGIO, family from which Rogero sprang

REMUS, brother of Romulus, founder of Rome

RHADAMANTHUS, son of Jupiter and Europa after his death one ofthe judges in the lower world

RHAPSODIST, professional reciter of poems among the Greeks

RHEA, female Titan, wife of Saturn (Cronos), mother of the chiefgods, worshipped in Greece and Rome

RHINE, river

RHINE MAIDENS, OR DAUGHTERS, three water nymphs, Flosshilda, Woglinda, and Wellgunda, set to guard the Nibelungen Hoard, buriedin the Rhine

RHODES, one of the seven cities claiming to be Homer's birthplace

RHODOPE, mountain in Thrace

RHONGOMYANT, Arthur's lance

RHOECUS, a youth, beloved by a Dryad, but who brushed away a beesent by her to call him to her, and she punished him withblindness

RHIANNON, wife of Pwyll

RINALDO, one of the bravest knights of Charlemagne

RIVER OCEAN, flowing around the earth

ROBERT DE BEAUVAIS', Norman poet (1257)

ROBIN HOOD, famous outlaw in English legend, about time of RichardCoeur de Lion

ROCKINGHAM, forest of

RODOMONT, king of Algiers

ROGERO, noted Saracen knight

ROLAND (Orlando), See Orlando

ROMANCES

ROMANUS, legendary great grandson of Noah

ROME

ROMULUS, founder of Rome

RON, Arthur's lance

RONCES VALLES', battle of

ROUND TABLE King Arthur's instituted by Merlin the Sage forPendragon, Arthur's father, as a knightly order, continued andmade famous by Arthur and his knights

RUNIC CHARACTERS, or runes, alphabetic signs used by earlyTeutonic peoples, written or graved on metal or stone

RUTULIANS, an ancient people in Italy, subdued at an early periodby the Romans

RYENCE, king in Ireland

S

SABRA, maiden for whom Severn River was named, daughter of Locrineand Estrildis thrown into river Severn by Locrine's wife, transformed to a river nymph, poetically named Sabrina

SACRIPANT, king of Circassia

SAFFIRE, Sir, knight of Arthur

SAGAS, Norse tales of heroism, composed by the Skalds

SAGRAMOUR, knight of Arthur

St. MICHAEL'S MOUNT, precipitous pointed rock hill on the coast ofBrittany, opposite Cornwall

SAKYASINHA, the Lion, epithet applied to Buddha

SALAMANDER, a lizard like animal, fabled to be able to live infire

SALAMIS, Grecian city

SALMONEUS, son of Aeolus and Enarete and brother of Sisyphus

SALOMON, king of Brittany, at Charlemagne's court

SAMHIN, or "fire of peace, " a Druidical festival

SAMIAN SAGE (Pythagoras)

SAMOS, island in the Aegean Sea

SAMOTHRACIAN GODS, a group of agricultural divinities, worshippedin Samothrace

SAMSON, Hebrew hero, thought by some to be original of Hercules

SAN GREAL (See Graal, the Holy)

SAPPHO, Greek poetess, who leaped into the sea from promontory ofLeucadia in disappointed love for Phaon

SARACENS, followers of Mahomet

SARPEDON, son of Jupiter and Europa, killed by Patroclus

SATURN (Cronos)

SATURNALIA, a annual festival held by Romans in honor of Saturn

SATURNIA, an ancient name of Italy

SATYRS, male divinities of the forest, half man, half goat

SCALIGER, famous German scholar of 16th century

SCANDINAVIA, mythology of, giving account of Northern gods, heroes, etc

SCHERIA, mythical island, abode of the Phaeacians

SCHRIMNIR, the boar, cooked nightly for the heroes of Valhallabecoming whole every morning

SCIO, one of the island cities claiming to be Homer's birthplace

SCOPAS, King of Thessaly

SCORPION, constellation

SCYLLA, sea nymph beloved by Glaucus, but changed by jealous Circeto a monster and finally to a dangerous rock on the Siciliancoast, facing the whirlpool Charybdis, many mariners being wreckedbetween the two, also, daughter of King Nisus of Megara, who lovedMinos, besieging her father's city, but he disliked her disloyaltyand drowned her, also, a fair virgin of Sicily, friend of seanymph Galatea

SCYROS, where Theseus was slain

SCYTHIA, country lying north of Euxine Sea

SEMELE, daughter of Cadmus and, by Jupiter, mother of Bacchus

SEMIRAMIS, with Ninus the mythical founder of the Assyrian empireof Nineveh

SENAPUS, King of Abyssinia, who entertained Astolpho

SERAPIS, or Hermes, Egyptian divinity of Tartarus and ofmedicine

SERFS, slaves of the land

SERIPHUS, island in the Aegean Sea, one of the Cyclades

SERPENT (Northern constellation)

SESTOS, dwelling of Hero (which See also Leander)

"SEVEN AGAINST THEBES, " famous Greek expedition

SEVERN RIVER, in England

SEVINUS, Duke of Guienne

SHALOTT, THE LADY OF

SHATRIYA, Hindu warrior caste

SHERASMIN, French chevalier

SIBYL, prophetess of Cumae

SICHAEUS, husband of Dido

SEIGE PERILOUS, the chair of purity at Arthur's Round Table, fatalto any but him who was destined to achieve the quest of theSangreal (See Galahad)

SIEGFRIED, young King of the Netherlands, husband of Kriemhild, she boasted to Brunhild that Siegfried had aided Gunther to beather in athletic contests, thus winning her as wife, and Brunhild, in anger, employed Hagan to murder Siegfried. As hero of Wagner's"Valkyrie, " he wins the Nibelungen treasure ring, loves anddeserts Brunhild, and is slain by Hagan

SIEGLINDA, wife of Hunding, mother of Siegfried by Siegmund

SIEGMUND, father of Siegfried

SIGTRYG, Prince, betrothed of King Alef's daughter, aided byHereward

SIGUNA, wife of Loki

SILENUS, a Satyr, school master of Bacchus

SILURES (South Wales)

SILVIA, daughter of Latin shepherd

SILVIUS, grandson of Aeneas, accidentally killed in the chase byhis son Brutus

SIMONIDES, an early poet of Greece

SINON, a Greek spy, who persuaded the Trojans to take the WoodenHorse into their city

SIRENS, sea nymphs, whose singing charmed mariners to leap intothe sea, passing their island, Ulysses stopped the ears of hissailors with wax, and had himself bound to the mast so that hecould hear but not yield to their music

SIRIUS, the dog of Orion, changed to the Dog star

SISYPHUS, condemned in Tartarus to perpetually roll up hill a bigrock which, when the top was reached, rolled down again

SIVA, the Destroyer, third person of the Hindu triad of gods

SKALDS, Norse bards and poets

SKIDBLADNIR, Freyr's ship

SKIRNIR, Frey's messenger, who won the god's magic sword bygetting him Gerda for his wife

SKRYMIR, a giant, Utgard Loki in disguise, who fooled Thor inathletic feats

SKULD, the Norn of the Future

SLEEP, twin brother of Death

SLEIPNIR, Odin's horse

SOBRINO, councillor to Agramant

SOMNUS, child of Nox, twin brother of Mors, god of sleep

SOPHOCLES, Greek tragic dramatist

SOUTH WIND See Notus

SPAR'TA, capital of Lacedaemon

SPHINX, a monster, waylaying the road to Thebes and propoundingriddles to all passers, on pain of death, for wrong guessing, whokilled herself in rage when Aedipus guessed aright

SPRING

STONEHENGE, circle of huge upright stones, fabled to be sepulchreof Pendragon

STROPHIUS, father of Pylades

STYGIAN REALM, Hades

STYGIAN SLEEP, escaped from the beauty box sent from Hades toVenus by hand of Psyche, who curiously opened the box and wasplunged into unconsciousness

STYX, river, bordering Hades, to be crossed by all the dead

SUDRAS, Hindu laboring caste

SURTUR, leader of giants against the gods in the day of theirdestruction (Norse mythology)

SURYA, Hindu god of the sun, corresponding to the Greek Helios

SUTRI, Orlando's birthplace

SVADILFARI, giant's horse

SWAN, LEDA AND

SYBARIS, Greek city in Southern Italy, famed for luxury

SYLVANUS, Latin divinity identified with Pan

SYMPLEGADES, floating rocks passed by the Argonauts

SYRINX, nymph, pursued by Pan, but escaping by being changed to abunch of reeds (See Pandean pipes)

T

TACITUS, Roman historian

TAENARUS, Greek entrance to lower regions

TAGUS, river in Spain and Portugal

TALIESIN, Welsh bard

TANAIS, ancient name of river Don

TANTALUS, wicked king, punished in Hades by standing in waterthat retired when he would drink, under fruit trees that withdrewwhen he would eat

TARCHON, Etruscan chief

TARENTUM, Italian city

TARPEIAN ROCK, in Rome, from which condemned criminals werehurled

TARQUINS, a ruling family in early Roman legend

TAURIS, Grecian city, site of temple of Diana (See Iphigenia)

TAURUS, a mountain

TARTARUS, place of confinement of Titans, etc, originally a blackabyss below Hades later, represented as place where the wickedwere punished, and sometimes the name used as synonymous withHades

TEIRTU, the harp of

TELAMON, Greek hero and adventurer, father of Ajax

TELEMACHUS, son of Ulysses and Penelope

TELLUS, another name for Rhea

TENEDOS, an island in Aegean Sea

TERMINUS, Roman divinity presiding over boundaries and frontiers

TERPSICHORE, Muse of dancing

TERRA, goddess of the earth

TETHYS, goddess of the sea

TEUCER, ancient king of the Trojans

THALIA, one of the three Graces

THAMYRIS, Thracian bard, who challenged the Muses to competitionin singing, and, defeated, was blinded

THAUKT, Loki disguised as a hag

THEBES, city founded by Cadmus and capital of Boeotia

THEMIS, female Titan, law counsellor of Jove

THEODORA, sister of Prince Leo

THERON, one of Diana's dogs

THERSITES, a brawler, killed by Achilles

THESCELUS, foe of Perseus, turned to stone by sight of Gorgon'shead

THESEUM, Athenian temple in honor of Theseus

THESEUS, son of Aegeus and Aethra, King of Athens, a great hero ofmany adventures

THESSALY

THESTIUS, father of Althea

THETIS, mother of Achilles

THIALFI, Thor's servant

THIS'BE, Babylonian maiden beloved by Pyramus

THOR, the thunderer, of Norse mythology, most popular of the gods

THRACE

THRINA'KIA, island pasturing Hyperion's cattle, where Ulysseslanded, but, his men killing some cattle for food, their ship waswrecked by lightning

THRYM, giant, who buried Thor's hammer

THUCYDIDES, Greek historian

TIBER, river flowing through Rome

TIBER, FATHER, god of the river

TIGRIS, river

TINTADEL, castle of, residence of King Mark of Cornwall

TIRESIAS, a Greek soothsayer

TISIPHONE, one of the Furies

TITANS, the sons and daughters of Uranus (Heaven) and Gaea(Earth), enemies of the gods and overcome by them

TITHONUS, Trojan prince

TITYUS, giant in Tartarus

TMOLUS, a mountain god

TORTOISE, second avatar of Vishnu

TOURS, battle of (See Abdalrahman and Charles Martel)

TOXEUS, brother of Melauger's mother, who snatched from Atalantaher hunting trophy, and was slain by Melauger, who had awarded itto her

TRIAD, the Hindu

TRIADS, Welsh poems

TRIMURTI, Hindu Triad

TRIPTOL'EMUS, son of Celeus, and who, made great byCeres, founded her worship in Eleusis

TRISTRAM, one of Arthur's knights, husband of Isoude of the WhiteHands, lover of Isoude the Fair, TRITON, a demi god of the sea, son of Poseidon (Neptune) andAmphitrite

TROEZEN, Greek city of Argolis

TROJAN WAR

TROJANOVA, New Troy, City founded in Britain (See Brutus, andLud)

TROPHONIUS, oracle of, in Boeotia

TROUBADOURS, poets and minstrels of Provence, in Southern France

TROUVERS', poets and minstrels of Northern France

TROY, city in Asia Minor, ruled by King Priam, whose son, Paris, stole away Helen, wife of Menelaus the Greek, resulting in theTrojan War and the destruction of Troy

TROY, fall of

TURNUS, chief of the Rutulianes in Italy, unsuccessful rival ofAeneas for Lavinia

TURPIN, Archbishop of Rheims

TURQUINE, Sir, a great knight, foe of Arthur, slain by SirLauncelot

TYPHON, one of the giants who attacked the gods, were defeated, and imprisoned under Mt. Aetna

TYR, Norse god of battles

TYRE, Phoenician city governed by Dido

TYRIANS

TYRRHEUS, herdsman of King Turnus in Italy, the slaying of whosedaughter's stag aroused war upon Aeneas and his companions

U

UBERTO, son of Galafron

ULYSSES (Greek, Odysseus), hero of the Odyssey

UNICORN, fabled animal with a single horn

URANIA, one of the Muses, a daughter of Zeus by Mnemosyne

URDUR, one of the Norns or Fates of Scandinavia, representing thePast

USK, British river

UTGARD, abode of the giant Utgard Loki

UTGARD LO'KI, King of the Giants (See Skrymir)

UTHER (Uther Pendragon), king of Britain and father of Arthur, UWAINE, knight of Arthur's court

V

VAISSYAS, Hindu caste of agriculturists and traders

VALHALLA, hall of Odin, heavenly residence of slain heroes

VALKYRIE, armed and mounted warlike virgins, daughters of the gods(Norse), Odin's messengers, who select slain heroes for Valhallaand serve them at their feasts

VE, brother of Odin

VEDAS, Hindu sacred Scriptures

VENEDOTIA, ancient name for North Wales

VENUS (Aphrodite), goddess of beauty

VENUS DE MEDICI, famous antique statue in Uffizi Gallery, Florence, Italy

VERDANDI, the Present, one of the Norns

VERTUMNUS, god of the changing seasons, whose varied appearanceswon the love of Pomona

VESTA, daughter of Cronos and Rhea, goddess of the homefire, orhearth

VESTALS, virgin priestesses in temple of Vesta

VESUVIUS, Mount, volcano near Naples

VILLAINS, peasants in the feudal scheme

VIGRID, final battle-field, with destruction of the gods indtheir enemies, the sun, the earth, and time itself

VILI, brother of Odin and Ve

VIRGIL, celebrated Latin poet (See Aeneid)

VIRGO, constellation of the Virgin, representing Astraea, goddessof innocence and purity

VISHNU, the Preserver, second of the three chief Hindu gods

VIVIANE, lady of magical powers, who allured the sage Merlin andimprisoned him in an enchanted wood

VOLSCENS, Rutulian troop leader who killed Nisus and Euryalus

VOLSUNG, A SAGA, an Icelandic poem, giving about the same legendsas the Nibelungen Lied

VORTIGERN, usurping King of Britain, defeated by Pendragon 390, 397

VULCAN (Greek, Haephestus), god of fire and metal working, withforges under Aetna, husband of Venus

VYA'SA, Hindu sage

W

WAIN, the, constellation

WELLGUNDA, one of the Rhine-daughters

WELSH LANGUAGE

WESTERN OCEAN

WINDS, THE

WINTER

WODEN, chief god in the Norse mythology, Anglo Saxon for Odin

WOGLINDA, one of the Rhine-daughters

WOMAN, creation of

WOODEN HORSE, the, filled with armed men, but left outside of Troyas a pretended offering to Minerva when the Greeks feigned to sailaway, accepted by the Trojans (See Sinon, and Laocoon), broughtinto the city, and at night emptied of the hidden Greek soldiers, who destroyed the town

WOOD NYMPHS

WOTAN, Old High German form of Odin

X

XANTHUS, river of Asia Minor

Y

YAMA, Hindu god of the Infernal Regions

YEAR, THE

YGDRASIL, great ash-tree, supposed by Norse mythology to supportthe universe

YMIR, giant, slain by Odin

YNYWL, Earl, host of Geraint, father of Enid

YORK, Britain

YSERONE, niece of Arthur, mother of Caradoc

YSPA DA DEN PEN'KAWR, father of Olwen

Z

ZENDAVESTA, Persian sacred Scriptures

ZEPHYRUS, god of the South wind, ZERBINO, a knight, son of the king of Scotland

ZETES, winged warrior, companion of Theseus

ZETHUS, son of Jupiter and Antiope, brother of Amphion. See Dirce

ZEUS, See JUPITER

ZOROASTER, founder of the Persian religion, which was dominant inWestern Asia from about 550 BC to about 650 AD, and is still heldby many thousands in Persia and in India