Chapter VI

72. Agreeably to Medea's advice, Jason went in the morning to the palace of King Æetes. Entering the presence chamber, he stood at the foot of the throne and made a low obeisance.

"Your eyes look heavy, Prince Jason," observed the king; "you appear to have spent a sleepless night. I hope you have been considering the matter a little more wisely, and have concluded not to get yourself scorched to a cinder in attempting to tame my brazen-lunged bulls."

73. "That is already accomplished, may it please your majesty," replied Jason. "The bulls have been tamed and yoked; the field has been plowed; the dragon's teeth have been sown broadcast and harrowed into the soil; the crop of armed warriors have sprung up, and they have slain one another to the last man. And now I solicit your majesty's permission to encounter the dragon, that I may take down the Golden Fleece from the tree and depart with my nine and forty comrades."

74. King Æetes scowled and looked very angry and greatly disturbed; for he knew that, in accordance with his kingly promise, he ought now to permit Jason to win the Fleece if his courage and skill should enable him to do so.

75. "You never would have succeeded in this business, young man," said he, "if my undutiful daughter Medea had not helped you with her enchantments. Had you acted fairly, you would have been at this instant a black cinder or a handful of white ashes. I forbid you, on pain of death, to make any more attempts to get the Golden Fleece. To speak my mind plainly, you shall never set eyes on so much as one of its glistening locks."

76. Jason left the king's presence in great sorrow and anger. But, as he was hastening down the palace steps, the Princess Medea called after him and beckoned him to return.

"What says King Æetes, my royal and upright father?" inquired Medea, slightly smiling. "Will he give you the Golden Fleece without any further risk or trouble?"

77. "On the contrary," answered Jason, "he is very angry with me for taming the brazen bulls and sowing the dragon's teeth. And he forbids me to make any more attempts, and positively refuses to give up the Golden Fleece whether I slay the dragon or no."

78. "Yes, Jason," said the princess, "and I can tell you more. Unless you set sail from Colchis before to-morrow's sunrise, the king means to burn your fifty-oared galley and put yourself and your forty-nine brave comrades to the sword. But be of good courage. The Golden Fleece you shall have, if it lies within the power of my enchantments to get it for you. Wait for me here an hour before midnight."

79. At the appointed hour you might again have seen Prince Jason and the Princess Medea, side by side, stealing through the streets of Colchis, on their way to the sacred grove, in the center of which the Golden Fleece was suspended to a tree.

80. Jason followed Medea's guidance into the Grove of Mars, where the great oak trees that had been growing for centuries threw so thick a shade that the moonbeams struggled vainly to find their way through it. Only here and there a glimmer fell upon the leaf-strewn earth, or now and then a breeze stirred the boughs aside and gave Jason a glimpse of the sky, lest, in that deep obscurity, he might forget that there was one overhead.

81. At length, when they had gone farther and farther into the heart of the duskiness, Medea squeezed Jason's hand.

"Look yonder," she whispered. "Do you see it?"

Gleaming among the venerable oaks there was a radiance, not like the moonbeams, but rather resembling the golden glory of the setting sun. It proceeded from an object which appeared to be suspended at about a man's height from the ground, a little farther within the wood.

82. "What is it?" asked Jason.

"Have you come so far to seek it," exclaimed Medea, "and do you not recognize the meed of all your toils and perils when it glitters before your eyes? It is the Golden Fleece."

83. Jason went onward a few steps farther, and then stopped to gaze. Oh, how beautiful it looked, shining with a marvelous light of its own, that prize which so many heroes had longed to behold, but had perished in the quest of it either by the perils of their voyage or by the fiery breath of the brazen-lunged bulls!

84. "How gloriously it shines!" cried Jason, in a rapture. "It has surely been dipped in the richest gold of sunset. Let me hasten onward and take it to my bosom."

"Stay," said Medea, holding him back. "Have you forgotten what guards it?"

85. To say the truth, in the joy of beholding the object of his desires, the terrible dragon had quite slipped out of Jason's memory. Soon, however, something came to pass that reminded him what perils were still to be encountered.

86. An antelope, that probably mistook the yellow radiance for sunrise, came bounding fleetly through the grove. He was rushing straight towards the Golden Fleece, when suddenly there was a frightful hiss, and the immense head and half the scaly body of the dragon were thrust forth--for he was twisted round the trunk of the tree on which the Fleece hung--and seizing the poor antelope, swallowed him with one snap of his jaws.

87. The dragon had probably heard the voices; for, swift as lightning, his black head and forked tongue came hissing among the trees again, darting full forty feet at a stretch. As it approached, Medea tossed a magic potion right down the monster's wide-open throat. Immediately, with an outrageous hiss and a tremendous wriggle, flinging his tail up to the tiptop of the tallest tree and shattering all its branches as it crashed heavily down again, the dragon fell at full length upon the ground and lay quite motionless.

88. "It is only a sleeping potion," said the enchantress to Prince Jason. "Quick! Snatch the prize and let us begone. You have won the Golden Fleece."

Jason caught the Fleece from the tree and hurried through the grove, the deep shadows of which were illuminated, as he passed, by the golden glory of the precious object that he bore along.

89. Jason found the heroes seated on the benches of the galley, with their oars held perpendicularly, ready to let fall into the water.

As he drew near, he heard the Talking Image calling to him with more than ordinary eagerness in its grave, sweet voice:

"Make haste, Prince Jason! For your life, make haste!"

90. With one bound, he leaped aboard. At sight of the glorious radiance of the Golden Fleece, the nine and forty heroes gave a mighty shout, and Orpheus, striking his harp, sang a song of triumph, to the cadence of which the galley flew over the water, homeward bound, as if careering along with wings.

* * * * *

I. =Jā´sȯn.= =Ĭ ŏl´c̵hŏs.= =Çĕn´ta̤_u_rs̝=. =C̵hī´rŏn.= =Ǣ´sȯn.=
=Pē´lĭ ăs.= =Săn´dals̝=: shoes consisting of soles strapped to
the feet. =Tûr´bū̍ lent=: disturbed; roused to great commotion.
=Nĕp´tū̍n=_e_. =Gärb=: dress.

II. =Măl´ĭç_e_=: ill will. =Quĕst=: search. =S_c_ĕp´tẽr=: a staff
carried by a king as a sign of his authority.

III. =Dō dō´nȧ.= =Är´gus.= =Găl´l_e_y̆=: a vessel with oars, used
by ancient people. =Prow=: the forepart of a vessel. =Stûr´dy̆=:
strong. =Ĕn coun´tẽr=: meet.

IV. =Cŏl´c̶hĭs.= =Ǣ ē´tēs̝.= =Mĕd´ĭ tāt_e_=: intend; think
seriously. =Sō̍ lĭ´çĭt=: ask earnestly. =Vŭl´can.= =Căd´mus.=
=Är´gō̍ na̤_u_ts=. =Cŏm´plā̍=_i_ =sănt ly̆=: politely. =Mē dē´ȧ.=

V. =Ŏb scū´rĭ ty̆=: darkness. =Clăṉ´gor=: a sharp, harsh, ringing
sound. =Prō̍ trūd´ĕd=: thrust out. =Bat tal´ion=: body of troops.

VI. =Ō̍ bē_i_´sanç_e_=: bow. =Sŭs pĕnd´ĕd=: hung. =Mē_e_d=:
reward. =Po´tion=: drink; dose; usually of liquid medicine.
=Ĭl lū´mĭ nāt ĕd=: lighted up; brightened. =Or´pheus.=
=Cā´denç_e_=: the close or fall of a strain of music.

The Star-Spangled Banner

BY FRANCIS SCOTT KEY

Francis Scott Key (1780-1843): An American lawyer, who will be
remembered as the author of "The Star-Spangled Banner."

During the second war with England, in 1814, the British made an
attack upon the city of Baltimore. The British war ships moved up
near Fort McHenry and opened a heavy fire of cannon balls, bomb
shells, and rockets. These latter were made like our well-known sky
rockets, and could be thrown at the enemy.

During the battle some Americans, one of whom was Francis Scott
Key, carried a flag of truce out to the British fleet to secure
the release of an American citizen who had been taken prisoner. The
Americans were detained over night on a ship far to the rear of the
attack. During the night they listened anxiously to the sound of
the guns, and watched the red rockets and the bursting bombs, being
sure that, as long as the firing continued, the fort still held
out; but late in the night the guns became silent. Did it mean that
the attack had been repulsed? Or had the fort surrendered? Only
daylight would tell.

Before dawn the anxious Americans were watching. The first faint
light of day showed them the stars and stripes still floating over
the fort; then they knew that the attack had failed and that the
Americans were victorious.

While on the deck of the British war ship, Mr. Key composed the
poem which has become our national anthem.

1. Oh, say! can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming--
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the clouds of the
fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Oh, say! does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

2. On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam;
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream;
'Tis the star-spangled banner; oh! long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

3. And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul foot-steps' pollution;
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave;
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

4. Oh! thus be it ever when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and war's desolation!
Blessed with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto, "In God is our trust;"
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

* * * * *

=Răm´pärts=: walls surrounding a place for its defence.
=Tow´ẽr ĭng=: very high. =Vä_u_nt´ĭng ly̆=: boastingly; braggingly.
=Hăv´ŏc=: destruction; ruin. =Pol lu´tion=: uncleanness.
=Hīr=_e_´=lĭng=: one who serves for gain only.

* * * * *

Young men, you are the architects of your own fortunes. Rely on your own strength of body and soul. Take for your star self-reliance. Energy, invincible determination, with a right motive, are the levers that move the world. Love your God and your fellowmen. Love truth and virtue. Love your country and obey its laws.

PORTER

My Native Land

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832): A Scotch poet and novelist.
"Marmion," "The Lady of the Lake," and "The Lay of the Last
Minstrel" are considered the best of his poems; and of his many
novels probably "Ivanhoe" and "Kenilworth" are most read. Children
enjoy "The Tales of a Grandfather," stories from Scottish history
written for his own little grandson.

This selection is from "The Lay of the Last Minstrel."

1. Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
"This is my own, my native land!"
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand?

2. If such there breathe, go, mark him well!
For him no minstrel raptures swell.
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim--
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentered all in self,
Living shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

* * * * *

=Strănd=: shore. =Pĕlf=: money; riches. =Cŏn çĕn´tẽr_e_d=:
concentrated; fixed.

Hunting the Grizzly[1]

BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT

Theodore Roosevelt (1858 ----): The twenty-sixth President of the
United States. He was made Assistant Secretary of the Navy in
1897, and the next year resigned to organize with Dr. Leonard Wood
the First U. S. Cavalry Volunteers, popularly called Roosevelt's
Rough Riders. The regiment distinguished itself in action in Cuba,
and Roosevelt was made colonel for gallantry in the battle of La
Quasina. In 1898 he was elected Governor of New York, and in 1900
Vice-President. On the death of President McKinley, September 14,
1901, he became President. He has done much big game shooting in
the West, and is the author of a number of books, among which are
"The Winning of the West" and "The Life of Gouverneur Morris."

[1] From "Hunting Trips of a Ranchman," published by Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons.