Chapter L: E. L (2)

_Aga._ Come to me, soul of peace! these, these alone,
These are not false embraces."

W. S. LANDOR.

* * * * *

THE TROJAN WAR.

The sails were spread, and the vessels destined to the attack of Troy advanced quickly towards its shores. Priam and his brave sons though they received the enemy with vigour, could not prevent them from landing, and the siege commenced by a blockade, which lasted for the space of nine years, and might have lasted much longer, as more than valour was necessary to take the city; for destiny had dictated the conditions to be fulfilled, ere its capture could be accomplished.

An ancient oracle had foretold that among the besiegers must be one of the descendants of Eachus, who had worked on the wall of {234} of Ilion, and Achilles, son of Thetis, considered Eachus as his ancestor. This young hero had been hidden by his frightened mother in the isle of Cyros. Clothed in female garments, he there lived with the beautiful Deidomia, and enslaved by Love, forgot over the cradle of his offspring, the glory of his country, and the precepts of his tutor, Chiron, the centaur. But it was necessary that he should be discovered; and that he should be animated with higher thoughts and more exalted sentiments.

Ulysses, King of Ithaca, took upon himself the charge of bringing the young Achilles from his inglorious ease to the post which awaited him in the camp. Disguised as a merchant, Ulysses introduced himself into the palace of the future hero, and as he paraded himself before the women with jewels and arms, one of them disdained the gems, and seized a sword!--It was Achilles!--who thus betrayed his manly inclinations.

Thus discovered, the eloquence of Ulysses was exerted, and the youthful hero listened with astonishment to the King of Ithaca, as he told him of the dangers already overcome, and of the future conquests which awaited him. Ulysses departed, but not alone, for the spirit of glory was aroused in Achilles, and one more defender was added to the cause of Menelaus. But the besiegers were also to possess the arrows of Hercules, which this hero in dying had bequeathed to Philoctetes, who, however, would not give up the terrible arms that no mortal dared take from him. Ulysses presented himself to Philoctetes, who, at the command of the manes of Hercules, sought the Grecian camp with his terrible weapons to assist them against their enemies.

{235}

But this was not enough. It was necessary to take from the Trojans the talismanic protector of their city, the Palladium.

Ulysses was also charged with this mission, and the intrepid Diomedes assisted him to triumph over the obstacles which would have resisted his single efforts, and they went forth to seek the statue of Pallas, in the very city of their intrepid foes.

It was necessary likewise that Rhesus, King of Thrace, should be prevented from allowing his horses to drink of the waters of the Xanthus, an ancient oracle having declared that if they drank of those waters or fed in the Trojan plain, that Troy would never be taken. In this too they succeeded; for Diomedes and Ulysses intercepted him on his journey to the Trojan camp, entered his tent at night and slew him; they then carried off the horses which had been the innocent causes of his melancholy fate.

All the oracles being now fulfilled, the siege was commenced with vigour, when an unforeseen quarrel stopped the operations of the Greeks. Achilles having been deprived by Agamemnon of his favourite mistress, retired into his tent. Reverses of fortune instantly signalised his absence. A general assault, however, was ordered, but directly the army displayed itself before the walls, Paris challenged Menelaus to single combat, and promised to return Helen if he was vanquished. The King of Sparta, protected by his bravery and the justice of his cause, accepted his challenge, and would have sacrificed the coward Trojan to his vengeance, when he took flight, and escaped by the aid of Venus.

--------"Poised in air, the javelin sent,
Through Paris' shield the fearful weapon went,
His corslet pierces, and his garment rends,
And, glancing downward, near his flank descends.
The wary Trojan, bending from the blow,
Eludes the death, and disappoints his foe:
But fierce Atrides waved his sword, and struck
Full on his casque, the crested helmet shook:
The brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand,
Broke short, the fragments glittered on the sand.
The raging warrior to the spacious skies
Raised his upbraiding voice and angry eyes.
'Then is it vain in Jove himself to trust?
And is it thus the Gods assist the just?
When crimes provoke us, Heaven success denies,
The dart falls harmless, and the falchion flies.'
{236}
Furious he said, and tow'rd the Grecian crew
Seized by the crest, th' unhappy warrior drew;
Struggling he followed, while th' embroidered throng,
That tied his helmet dragged the chief along.
Then had his ruin crowned Atrides' joy,
But Venus trembled for the Prince of Troy;
Unseen she came, and burst the golden band,
And left an empty helmet in his hand."

HOMER.

The Greeks claimed the execution of the promise, and in return a Trojan archer sent an arrow which wounded Agamemnon. A general melee ensued, the formidable Diomedes dashed into the midst of the Trojans, wounded Venus, who protected Paris, and struck Mars himself; and Hector, the brave son of Priam was compelled to retire, exhorting the Trojans to supplicate Pallas to withdraw Diomedes from the combat.

After this bloody action, in which the Gods themselves had taken part, the two armies engaged in several skirmishes without much advantage on either side. The siege still continued, and the anger of Achilles remained, until his revenge was aroused by the death of Patroclus, his friend, who was slain in battle by Hector.

"Thus by an arm divine and mortal spear
Wounded at once, Patroclus yields to fear,
Retires for succour to his social train,
And flies the fate which Heaven decreed, in vain.
Stern Hector as the bleeding chief he views,
Breaks through the ranks, and his retreat pursues:
The lance arrests him with a mortal wound;
He falls, earth shudders, and his arms resound.
With him all Greece was sunk, that moment all
Her yet surviving heroes seemed to fall.
Patroclus thus, so many chiefs o'erthrown,
So many lives effused, expires his own."

HOMER.

To avenge the death of his comrade in arms, Achilles conducted the Greeks to the attack. The Gods again mingled in the fight. Hector and Achilles met in fierce combat, and the first fell gloriously. The son of Peleus refused to the Trojans the last and only consolation of thinking that the remains should be given to the aged Priam. He had the cruelty to tie the body to his chariot, and in that way to drag it three times round the city, a sacrifice to the tomb of Patroclus, and the unfortunate Priam was obliged to give a large ransom for the remains of Hector. {237}

"Then his fell soul a thought of vengeance bred,
Unworthy of himself and of the dead,
The nervous ancles bored, his feet he bound
With thongs inserted through the double wound;
These fixed up high behind the rolling wain,
His graceful head was hauled along the plain.
Proud on his car th' insulting victor stood,
And bore aloft his arms distilling blood.
He smites the steeds, the rapid chariot flies;
The sudden clouds of circling dust arise.
Now lost is all that formidable air,
The face divine and long descending hair,
Purple the ground, and streak the sable sand;
Deformed, dishonoured, in his native land,
Given to the rage of an insulting throng,
And in his parents sight now dragged along.
The mother first beheld with sad survey,
She rent her tresses venerably gray:
And cast far off the regal veils away.
With piercing shriek his bitter fate she moans,
While the sad father answers groans with groans;
Tears after tears his mournful cheeks o'erflow,
And the whole city wears one face of woe."

HOMER.

After this barbarous act, Achilles, led by Destiny, obtained sight of Polyxena, the daughter of Priam, in the temple of Apollo.

Availing himself of treachery, Paris basely slew him by shooting him in the heel, the only part not rendered invulnerable, by being washed in the river Styx. When Achilles died, the Greeks erected a superb tomb to his memory upon the shores of the Hellespont, and after the taking of Troy, Polyxena was sacrificed to the manes of Achilles. So glorious had been his arms, that Ajax and Ulysses disputed for them, and they were given to the King of Ithaca {238} which so enraged Ajax that he slew himself, and the blood which flowed from him was turned into a hyacinth.

Aeneas, son of Venus and Anchises, took part in all the battles which preceded the fall of his country, and relates the stratagem by which the Greeks gained possession of the city. Repulsed in many assaults, they constructed an enormous horse of wood, and shut up in it the best and bravest of their soldiers. Then pretending to raise the siege, they left it, and embarked, casting anchor near the isle of Tenedos. The Trojans, happy to see their sails retreating from their shores, left their walls to look at the immense machine which remained behind. Some proposed to destroy it. The most superstitious demanded on the contrary, that it should be conducted to the city, and offered to Minerva. Laocoon, grand priest of Neptune, in the spirit of prophecy, told them to destroy it, and to doubt the gift of an enemy. Vainly he cried, "fear the Greeks and their gifts!" They would not listen to him. At this moment a Greek named Sinon was brought before them. This perfidious man said that his brothers in arms, irritated against him, had abandoned him, and that this horse was an offering made by the Greeks, to moderate the anger of Minerva, and to obtain from her a happy return.

In vain did Laocoon persist in his assertion that danger was near, and in vain was he commissioned by the Trojans to offer a bullock to Neptune, to render him propitious.

During the sacrifice, two enormous serpents issued from the sea, and attacked Laocoon's two sons, who stood next to the altar. The father immediately attempted to defend them, but the serpents coiling round him, squeezed him in their complicated wreaths, so that he died in the greatest torture.

{239}

--------"By Scamander when Laocoon stood,
Where Troy's proud turrets glittered in the flood,
Raised high his arm and with prophetic call
To shrinking realms announced her fated fall;
Whirled his fierce spear with more than mortal force,
And pierced the thick ribs of the echoing horse;
Two serpent forms incumbent on the main
Lashing the white waves with their redundant train,
Arched their blue necks, and shook their towering crests,
And ploughed their foamy way with speckled breasts;
Then, darting fierce amid the affrighted throngs,
Rolled their red eyes, and shot their forked tongues.--
--Two daring youths to guard the hoary sire,
Thwart their dread progress, and provoke their ire,
Round sire and sons the scaly monsters rolled,
Ring above ring in many a tangled fold,
Close and more close their writhing limbs surround,
And fix with foamy teeth the envenomed wound.
With brow upturned to Heaven the holy sage
In silent agony sustains their rage;
While each fond youth, in vain, with piercing cries
Bends on the tortured Sire his dying eyes."

DARWIN.

"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 clench; the long envenomed chain
Rivets the living links,--the enormous asp
Enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp."

BYRON.

The Trojans following the advice of Sinon, beat down part of the wall to make an entrance for the horse into the city; they then celebrated the deliverance of their country with feasts and festivals.

Aided by the darkness of night the Greek ships left Tenedos and set sail with all haste towards Troy. Their soldiers disembarked, and penetrated through the breach which had been made to admit the horse. At the same time the warriors that were hidden within the colossal structure appeared, spreading slaughter and devastation all over the city. Aeneas awoke, put on his arms, and ran to the palace of Priam, in time to see, but not to save, the aged monarch, his daughters, and his sons, from falling beneath the edge of the sword.

He then sought to rally the Trojans, and make head against the {240} enemy, but when he abandoned himself to feelings of grief and rage at not being able, his mother made known to him the uselessness of his efforts.

Aeneas followed the council of Venus. He awoke his father Anchises, placed the old man on his shoulders, took the young Ascanius, his son, by the hand, and led him away from the tumult, giving him in charge to Creusa, his wife, telling her to follow closely, and not to leave him. The unfortunate woman, however, lost sight of him, and was put to death by the Greeks.

After a vain search to find Creusa, the hero joined the Trojans that survived, and all retired to mount Ida, where they constructed a fleet of twenty vessels, in which they set sail, endeavouring to find out a new country.

The conquerors razed Troy to the ground, and divided the plunder. The widows and daughters of the Trojan princes who were left behind, were obliged to remain in the country. Several of them, famed for beauty, inspired their masters with passions which manifested themselves in quarrels, finishing by many a bloody catastrophe. Among this number was Andromache, widow of Hector, and mother of Astyanax. She fell to the share of {241} Neoptolemus, but though she conceived an aversion for him, the widow of Hector promised her hand to him, on condition that he would save the life of her son, which was menaced by the Greeks: and accompanied into Epirus the ambassadors sent to claim from Pyrrhus the last scion of a foeman's race; Orestes, the ambassador, explained to the king the object of his mission, he was met by a stern refusal, which so irritated the warrior, that he stabbed Pyrrhus for attempting that which he designated a base treason.

Following the fortunes of Ulysses--scarcely had he quitted the Phrygian shores, than he and his companions became the sport of Neptune and Juno, and a crowd of miseries beset them. At length, after a thousand reverses on the seas, a tempest precipitated his vessel on a rock, he saved himself on a floating wreck, and was driven by the waves towards the shores of the isle of the Phaeacians. He saw on the shores the beautiful Nausica, who took him to King Alcinous, her father, from whom he received every hospitality. At the end of the repast to which he had been invited, he related his wonderful adventures.

He told of his arrival in the country of the Lotophagi, people who lived on lotos, and of the frightful dangers he encountered in the isle of Cyclops.

"The land of Cyclops first, a savage kind,
Nor tamed by manner, nor by laws confined:
Untaught to plant, to turn the glebe and sow;
They all their products to free nature owe.
The soil untill'd a ready harvest yields,
With wheat and barley wave the golden fields,
{242}
Spontaneous wines from weighty clusters pour,
And Jove descends in each prolific shower.
By these no statutes and no rights are known,
No council held, no monarch fills the throne.
But high on hills, or airy cliffs, they dwell,
Or deep in caves whose entrance leads to hell.
Each rules his race, his neighbour not his care,
Heedless of others, to his own severe."

HOMER.

Polyphemus, whose one eye expressed a savage ferocity, shut up Ulysses and his companions in a cavern, where he kept his sheep. In the morning Polyphemus came, took two sailors and devoured them; at his repast in the evening he took two more. Ulysses, horrified at his danger, thought how he could avoid it. He amused the Cyclop by his recitals; and by giving him intoxicating drink, the monster slept; then, assisted by his companions, he put out his eye. Ulysses had provided for their escape, for fastening himself under the stomach of a sheep when it was going to the fields, and ordering his companions to follow his example, they escaped the rage of the Cyclop, who could only indulge his wrath by throwing at random large pieces of rock after their vessel, which was bearing them quickly away from the scene of their danger.

He arrived in the isle of Aeolia, where reigned Aeolus, king of the winds. This monarch treated him with much kindness, and to assure him a prosperous voyage, he gave him, enclosed in a leather bottle, all the dangerous winds. The vessels went first to the {243} borders of Ithaca, when the companions of Ulysses opened the leather bottle, believing that a precious wine was contained in it, all the winds escaped, and a furious tempest convulsed the sea. The vessels were thrown upon the coast of the Lestrigones, who ate human flesh. Two Greeks were devoured by them. In alarm the vessels again put to sea, and they landed in an isle where abode Circe, a famous magician.

When he had anchored, he sent some of his men on shore, to discover what place it was, but Circe gave them drink under pretence of refreshing them, which transformed them into swine. One only tasted not of the enchanted drink, and escaped to acquaint Ulysses with the strange metamorphose. Ulysses was astonished and resolved to seek the witch in person: and, provided with a certain herb, to preserve himself from witchcraft, he went to her with his drawn sword, to compel her to restore his companions to their previous shapes. The fascinations of Circe proved more powerful than the sword of Ulysses, and he staid with her on the island, in the enjoyment of her society, for the space of a year.

After concluding his eventful history, he remained some time with Alcinous, who gave him a ship, which carried him safely to Ithaca.

It was now the twentieth year of the absence of Ulysses from his home, during which time his wife had held him in continual remembrance, and though she had been pressed by her numerous suitors to consider him as dead and make a second choice, yet she retained such faithful love for her husband, with such a full and prophetic assurance that she should once more see him, that all their efforts to influence her were vain.

In order to put them off more effectually, she undertook to make a piece of cloth, promising that when it was finished, she would choose one of her numerous suitors: but the better to deceive them, she undid at night that which she worked in the day, so that when Ulysses arrived, she was no nearer its completion than at first.

Meanwhile Ulysses scarcely knew how to discover himself with safety to his own person, fearing that he might be slain by those who were suitors to his wife. By the advice of Minerva, he disguised himself as a beggar, first making himself known to Telemachus, and one of the old officers of the kingdom.

In the same disguise he introduced himself to Penelope, by whom {244} he was received with joy; and with the assistance of his friends, who flocked around him, he entered in possession of his throne.

But still his mind was uneasy and disturbed, as Tyresias, the soothsayer, had informed him that he should be killed by one of his sons. To prevent this misery, he determined to forsake the world, and retire into some solitary place, to end his days in peace.

About that time, Telegonus, one of his sons by Circe, came to his city to pay unto him his respects; and, as he was striving to enter the palace, there arose a great tumult, the officers of the place refusing him admission; at this moment Ulysses stepped out, and Telegonus not knowing him, ran him through with his lance, thus fulfilling the prophecy of the soothsayer.

* * * * *

AENEAS.

Charged to save himself from the wreck of Troy, and to accomplish the decrees of fate, Aeneas embarked with a small band in twenty vessels, which Juno however pursued with her wrath. Aeolus obedient to the goddess, dispersed the fleet and menaced them with complete destruction. Neptune appeared, and the winds were silent. Aeneas, however, found himself separated from the greater part of his companions, seven only of whom remained with him.

He landed on an unknown shore and Venus informed him, that {245} the rest of his companions were in safety. Aeneas, hidden in a cloud went to the palace of Dido, Queen of Carthage, a new town in which this queen had built the most gorgeous edifices; in one of which, where she gave to him a splendid entertainment, the hero related to her the history of the siege of Troy and his own adventures.

The glowing language and animating gestures of the young prince, together with the high deeds which he announced, won the heart of Dido. Nor was Aeneas long in perceiving the love felt for him by the beautiful listener, and yielding himself to her charms, staid with her for a considerable time in the enjoyment of all that renders life desirable.

Jupiter, however, grew dissatisfied with Aeneas, despatched Mercury to him to command him to leave Africa, to try the destiny which called him to Italy.

In vain Dido endeavoured to stop him, she saw in Aeneas a man resolved to leave her, and she loaded him with the curses and reproaches of an infuriated and forsaken lover.

Unable to bear life in the prospect of a desertion so infamous, she prepared a funeral pile, determined to immolate herself; mounting with a calm resolution she gave way to her despair. {246}

"What shall I do? what succour can I find?
Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go,
Forsake an empire to attend a foe?
Himself I refuged and his train relieved,
'Tis true, but am I sure to be received?
Can gratitude in Trojan souls have place?
Laomedon still lives in all his race!
Then shall I seek alone the flying crew,
Or with my fleet their flying souls pursue?
Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade,
And take the fortune thou thyself hast made!"

DRYDEN.

With one strong blow she smote herself to the heart, and fell dead upon the pile she had erected.

"Then swiftly to the fatal place she passed,
And mounts the funeral pile with furious haste;
Unsheathes the sword the Trojan left behind,
Not for so dire an enterprize designed;
But when she viewed the garb so loosely spread,
Which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed,
She saw and with a sigh the robes embraced,
Then on the couch her trembling body cast,
Repressed the ready tears and spoke her last;
'Dear pledges of my love, while heaven so pleased,
Receive a soul of mortal anguish eased.
My fatal course is finished, and I go,
A glorious name among the ghosts below,'
{247}
Then kissed the couch 'and must I die,' she said,
'And unrevenged, 'tis doubly to be dead;
Yet even this death with pleasure I receive,
On any terms 'tis better than to live;
These flames from far, may the false Trojan view,
These boding omens, his false flight pursue!'
She said and struck; deep entered in her side,
The piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed,
Clogged in the wound, the cruel weapon stands;
The spouting blood came streaming on her hands;
Her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke
And with loud cries, the sounding palace shook.
Thrice Dido tried to raise her drooping head,
And, panting, thrice fell grovelling on the bed.
Thrice ope'd her heavy eyes, and saw the light,
But having found it, sickened at the sight,
And closed her lids at last in endless night."

DRYDEN.

* * * * *

ALLEGORICAL DIVINITIES.

The ancients, following the inspirations of an undisciplined imagination, deified alike Virtues, Vices, and Evil principles. These divinities, the number of whom was constantly increasing, had both altars and temples consecrated to them: and from this kind of god, poets, painters, and sculptors have taken ideas, and have blended the deity and the virtue in beautiful unison, giving to them new and delightful charms.

VIRTUE

Daughter of Truth, is represented clothed in white, as an emblem of purity; sometimes holding a sceptre, at others crowned with {248} laurel; while she is in many instances drawn with wings, and placed upon a block of marble, to intimate her immoveable firmness.

TRUTH

Daughter of Jupiter and Saturn, is the parent of Justice and of Virtue. The great Apelles has represented her, in his painting of Calumny, under the appearance of a modest female; in her hand is placed a round mirror.

Ancient writers say, that she was for a long time hidden from the world at the bottom of a well, but leaving its quiet on one occasion, she was scared at the reception she met with, and returned to her hiding place, which is intended to intimate, according to Democritus, the difficulty with which she is discovered.

HONOUR.

The emblems of this god are, the crown of laurel, the lance, and the horn of plenty; though he is sometimes represented, instead of arms, with the olive branch of peace, as the reward of bravery.

At Rome he had two temples; one founded by Marcellus, at the same time with the one to Virtue. An augur having warned Marcellus that these two divinities would not dwell in the circumference of the same temple, he built the two distinct edifices to which we have alluded; but, to arrive at the temple of Honour, it was necessary to pass through that of Virtue.

PEACE.

This daughter of Jupiter and Themis, wears a crown of laurel; in her hand is a branch of the olive-tree, and against her side the statue of Plutus, to intimate that peace gives rise to prosperity and opulence.

Venus and the Graces were her companions, and an altar was erected to her at Athens; but at Rome, the capital in which the God of War was also peculiarly honoured, several altars were dedicated to her, one of the most magnificent of which was raised by Vespasian, after the war of Judea, and contained all the treasures taken from the temple at Jerusalem, consisting of a splendid library, busts, statues and pictures; with an enormous quantity of natural curiosities.

This temple was however consumed in the reign of Commodus, previous to which it was customary for men of learning to assemble {249} there, and even to deposit their most valuable writings as a place of peculiar safety; and, consequently the loss which took place when it was consumed, could scarcely be estimated.

FIDELITY

was adored even before Romulus and Numa had given laws to their people; and the oath sworn in her name was regarded by them as inviolable. She is represented clothed in white, with clasped hands. Her priests were dressed in a white cloth during her public ceremonies; but victims were not sacrificed upon her altar, because she was deemed inflexible, and could not yield to prayers, however urgent.

Two hands, joined together, are the emblems of faith, given and received.

FRIENDSHIP

the Greeks represented clothed in a clasped garment, her head bare, her bosom revealed near the heart, holding in the left hand an elm, around which a vine, filled with grapes, is clinging.

At Rome, she was a young maiden with a white robe, her bosom half bare, her head adorned with myrtle and pomegranate flowers intermixed. On the border of her tunic was written "Death and Life,"--on her front "Summer and Winter."--Her side was opened, and the heart visible, bearing these words, "Far and near." {250}

LIBERTY

wears sometimes a cap, with a rod in her hand, both signs of independence, as the latter was used by the magistrates in the manumission of slaves, and the cap was worn by those who were to be soon liberated, while at other times she appears in a chariot.

She is, however, more frequently represented holding the book of the laws, and in her hand a sword with which to defend them.

A temple was raised to her by Gracchus on Mount Aventine, adorned with elegant statues and brazen columns, with a gallery in which were deposited the public acts of the state.

VICTORY.

Styx, daughter of Ocean and Thetis, was the mother of Victory. This deity attended at the conquests of all countries and of all heroes. At Italy and Greece, temples were elevated to her; at Greece she was named Nice, and Sylla instituted festivals in her honour at the former place. In the temple of Jupiter, on the Capitoline hill, a golden statue of the goddess was placed, weighing three hundred and twenty pounds.

A thunderbolt having fallen on the statue and broken its wings, Pompey restored the courage of the people, who were dejected at the accident, by crying,

"Romans! the gods have broken the wings of Victory; henceforth she cannot escape from us." {251}

Victory, by the commands of her mother, aided Jupiter in his battle with the Titans; and the monarch of Olympus to reward her powerful services, decreed that the Gods should swear by her, and that those who violated the oath, should be exiled ten years from the celestial court, and deprived of the nectar and ambrosia of Olympus.

VOLUPTUOUSNESS

is a female figure, nearly naked, her hair wreathed with roses, and her face and form, full, but exquisitely developed.

In her hand is a cup of gold, from which a serpent is drinking, while around her are supposed to exist all the luxuries which attend her reign.

She was the goddess of sensual pleasures, and had a temple at Rome, where she was worshipped under the title of Volupia.

CALUMNY AND ENVY

are the daughters of Night, and though poets have been peculiarly the victims of these evils, yet they have frequently celebrated them in their verses; nor could more important engines in the mischiefs which arose in the world be well chosen; for, from Calumny, which is the offspring of Falsehood, arises crushed hearts and broken friendships--while of Envy it has well been remarked, "Open your heart once to receive her as a guest, and farewell to joy, peace, and contentment." {252}

FAMINE

is the daughter of Night, and inhabited the infernal regions, though the Lacedemonians dedicated to her an altar in the Temple of Minerva.

She is drawn miserable, pale, wan, meagre, and dejected: her eyes hollow and sunken, her complexion of a leaden hue, her teeth yellow, and her whole appearance worn and melancholy.

DISCORD,

daughter of Night, is the mother of a family of evils, almost too numerous to mention. Having been refused admission to the nuptials of Thetis and Peleus, it is said that it was she, who, to revenge herself, threw on the table among the festal company, the apple, with the inscription, "To the most beautiful."

This apple was the origin of the Trojan war, and of innumerable misfortunes to the Greeks.

The goddess is represented with a pale and ghastly look, her garments torn, her eyes sparkling with fire, holding a dagger concealed in her bosom. Her head is generally enwreathed with serpents, and she is imagined to be the cause of all the miseries, dissensions, and quarrels, which fall upon the inhabitants of the earth. {253}

We have now enumerated the most remarkable of the Allegorical Divinities, the number being too great to mention all. For the same reason we must omit the crowd of Emperors, Kings, and Princes, who, having the folly to believe themselves gods, found mortals sufficiently weak to grant them faith, and to accord them homage.

In concluding the Greek Mythology, however, we must mention several fables, which are so intimately connected therewith, as almost to form part of its history.

* * * * *

PHILEMON AND BAUCIS.

Philemon and Baucis were an aged couple, of Phrygia, who, unblessed by the goods of fortune, found in their mutual and deep affection, a happiness, which nothing could overwhelm.

----------------------"There
Had lived long married and a happy pair
Now old in love, tho' little was their store,
Inured to want, their poverty they bore,
Nor aimed at wealth, professing to be poor."

As they were sitting together, enjoying the sweets of mutual affection, two travellers, with a melancholy and impoverished appearance, after having asked hospitality, and been refused by the inhabitants of the village, sought refuge under their humble roof. Unaccustomed to visitors, they were, however, received by them with kindness, and invited to partake of a modest repast.

As they sate in kind communion, the forms of those whom they entertained suddenly changed, and they beheld Jupiter and Mercury in the place of the miserable beings they had received; the ancient couple throwing themselves on their knees, offered to their guests the deep homage of their hearts.

The Gods were pleased with their entertainment; but could not forget the inhospitality with which they had been received by their countrymen, and let loose the waves, and sent the thunderbolt to consume the town and its inhabitants. Philemon and Baucis, were, however, saved, and a superb temple replaced their lowly dwelling, of which they were made the priests.

They lived long and happily, and having entreated Jupiter that neither might outlive the other, they both died on the same day, and their bodies were changed into trees, and placed before the {254} door of the Temple which had arisen on the ruins of their lowly cottage.

"Lost in a lake the floated level lies;
A watery desert covers all the plains,
Their cot alone, as on an isle, remains
Wond'ring with weeping eyes, while they deplore
Their neighbours' fate, and country now no more,
Their little shed, scarce large enough for two,
Seems, from the ground, in height and bulk to grow
A stately temple shoots within the skies,
The crotchets of their cot in columns rise,
The pavement polished marble they behold,
The gates with sculpture graced, the spires and roof of gold!"

OVID.

* * * * *

PYRAMUS AND THISBE.

Pyramus and Thisbe were two young Thebans, who, being greatly enamoured of one another, had their union opposed by their friends, between the families of whom there had been a variance for many years.

"But to prevent their wandering in the dark,
They both agree to fix upon a mark;
A mark that could not their designs expose:
The tomb of Venus was the mark they chose;
There they might rest secure beneath the shade,
Which boughs, with snowy fruit encumbered, made.
A wide spread mulberry tree its rise had took
Just in the margin of a gurgling brook."

OVID.

They determined, however, if possible, to elude the vigilance of their persecutors, and agreed to meet outside the walls of the city, under the mulberry tree which grew there, and then to celebrate {255} their union. Thisbe was the first who arrived at the place appointed, when the sudden arrival of a lioness so frightened her, that she fled away, dropping her veil in her flight. This the lioness smeared with blood, and then disappeared, leaving it under the trysting tree.

In a short time Pyramus arrived, but found that she, for whom he looked, was absent: the bloody veil alone met his anxious gaze, which he instantly recognized, and concluded that she had been torn to pieces by wild beasts. In his despair he drew his sword and killed himself.

When the fears of Thisbe were passed away, she returned to the mulberry tree, but found only the lifeless remains of her lover. In the agony which overcame her, she fell upon the weapon with which Pyramus had destroyed himself, and joined him in his endless rest.

"But when her view the bleeding love confessed,
She shrieked, she tore her hair, she beat her breast,
She raised the body, and embraced it round,
And bathed with tears unfeigned, the gaping wound,
Then her warm lips to the cold face applied--
'And is it thus, ah! thus we meet,' she cried
My Pyramus, whence sprang thy cruel fate?
My Pyramus; ah! speak, ere 'tis too late:
I, thy own Thisbe; but one word implore,
One word thy Thisbe never asked before!
Fate, though it conquers, shall no triumph gain,
Fate, that divides us, still divides in vain.
Now, both our cruel parents, hear my prayer,
My prayer to offer for us both I dare,
O see our ashes in one urn confined,
Whom love at first, and fate at last, has joined.
Thou tree, where now one lifeless lump is laid,
Ere long o'er two shall cast a friendly shade,
Still let our loves from thee be understood,
Still witness, in thy purple fruit our blood--
She spoke, and in her bosom plunged the sword
All warm, and reeking from its slaughtered Lord."

OVID.

* * * * *

ACIS AND GALATEA.

Polyphemus, the most dreadful and hideous of the Cyclops, loved Galatea, one of the beautiful race of the sea-nymphs. Day by day, did the giant sit by the side of a fountain, neglecting his flocks, and murmuring love songs the most touching and impassioned; while he adorned his person and endeavoured to render himself as agreeable, by these and other means, to his nymph as possible. {256}

Galatea treated all his attentions with disrespect, and bestowed her affections upon Acis; meeting him in secret in a grotto, there enjoying the sweet society of one another, unsuspicious of the danger which threatened them.

------------------"Acis knelt
At Galatea's feet. She gazed awhile,
One delicate hand was pressed against her cheek,
That flushed with pleasure, and her dark hair streamed
Shadowing the brightness of her fixed eye,
Which on the young Sicilian shepherd's face
Shone like a star--
'Twas strange that she, a high sea-nymph should leave,
Her watery palaces, and coral caves,
Her home, and all immortal company,
To dwell with him, a simple shepherd boy."

BARRY CORNWALL.

Polyphemus, however, discovered their retreat, and with it, the cause of all the scorn and indifference, with which he had been treated.

----------------"At once he saw
His rival, and the nymph he loved so well,
Twined in each other's arms. 'Away,' he cried,
'Away thou wanton nymph, and thou, my slave.
Earth born and base, thou--thou whom I could shake
To atoms, as the tempest scatters abroad
The sea-sand tow'rd the skies, away, away!'"

Acis came forth from his retreat, and Polyphemus threw an enormous rock upon him, which crushed him beneath its weight.

----------------"The shepherd boy,
He felt the Cyclop's wrath, for on his head
The mighty weight descended: not a limb,
Or bone, or fragment, or a glossy hair,
Remained of all his beauty."

Galatea was in despair, and as she could not restore him to life, she changed him into a river, on the banks of which, she could still sport at even time, and sing to her beautiful, but lost love.

--------------------"She changed,
As Grecian fables say, the shepherd boy
Into a stream, and on its banks would lie,
And utter her laments in such a tone,
As might have moved the rocks, and then would call
Upon the murdered Acis. He the while
Ran to the sea, but oft on summer nights
Noises were heard, and plaintive music like,
The songs you hear in Sicily--shepherd swains
For many an age would lie by that lone stream,
And from its watery melodies catch an air,
And tune it to their simple instruments."

BARRY CORNWALL.

* * * * *

{257}

HERO AND LEANDER.

Hero was a priestess of Venus, at Sestos, whom Leander met during one of the festivals held annually at the fane of the goddess, in honour of Adonis.

"As thro' the temple passed the Sestian maid,
Her face a softened dignity displayed;
And as she shone superior to the rest,
In the sweet bloom of youth and beauty dress'd,
Such softness, tempered with majestic mien,
The earthly priestess matched the heavenly queen."

The appearance of Hero inflamed the bosom of Leander, nor was he long in expressing his love to the beautiful being who had won it. In the very temple of the goddess, whose priestess she was, and while warmed with the rites at which she had been assisting, Leander avowed his passion.

"Her lily hand he seized, and gently pressed,
And softly sighed the passion of his breast,
Then to the temples last recess conveyed
The unreluctant, unresisting maid,
Silent she stood, and wrapt in thought profound,
Her modest eyes were fixed upon the ground,
Her cheeks she hid, in rosy blushes drest,
And veiled her lily shoulders with her vest."

MUSAEUS.

The earnest wooing of Leander was assisted by the boy-god, and Hero, won by his passionate pleading, and by a love as strong as it was sudden, consented to become his bride.

------------------"How more than sweet,
That moment, as he knelt at Hero's feet,
Breathing his passion in each thrilling word,
Only by lovers said, and lovers heard."