aurora and tithonus

8/14/2019 Aurora and Tithonus

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Aurora and Tithonus

Aurora, the goddess of the Dawn, like hersister the Moon, was attimes inspired with the love of mortals.Her greatest favoritewas Tithonus, son of Laomedon, king of

Troy. She stole him away,and prevailed on Jupiter to grant him

immortality; but forgettingto have youth joined in the gift, after some time shebegan todiscern, to her great mortification, that he was growingold.When his hair was quite white she left his society; buthe stillhad the range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food,and wasclad in celestial raiment. At length he lost the power ofusinghis limbs, and then she shut him up in his chamber,whence hisfeeble voice might at times be heard. Finally she turnedhiminto a grasshopper.

Memnon was the son of aurora and Tithonus. He wasking of theAEthiopians, and dwelt in the extreme east, on theshore ofOcean. He came with his warriors to assist the kindredof hisfather in the war of Troy. King Priam received him withgreathonors, and listened with admiration to his narrative ofthe

wonders of the ocean shore.

The very day after his arrival, Memnon, impatient ofrepose, ledhis troops to the field. Antilochus, the brave son ofNestor,fell by his hand, and the Greeks were put to flight, whenAchilles appeared and restored the battle. A long anddoubtful

contest ensued between him and the son of Aurora; atlengthvictor declared for Achilles, Memnon fell, and the

Trojans fledin dismay.

Aurora, who, from her station in the sky, had viewedwithapprehension the danger of her son, when she saw himfall

directed his brothers, the Winds, to convey his body tothe banksof the river Esepus in Paphlagonia. In the eveningAurora came,accompanied by the Hours and the Pleiads, and weptand lamentedover her son. Night, in sympathy with her grief, spreadtheheaven with clouds; all nature mourned for the offspringof the

Dawn. The Aethiopians raised his tomb on the banks ofthe streamin the grove of the nymphs, and Jupiter caused thesparks andcinders of his funeral-pile to be turned into birds, which,dividing into two flocks, fought over the pile till they fellinto the flame. Every year, at the anniversary of hisdeath,they return and celebrate his obsequies in like manner.Auroraremains inconsolable for the loss of her son. Her tears


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stillflow, and may be seen at early morning in the form ofdew-dropson the grass.

Unlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, therewill exist

some memorials of this. On the banks of the river Nile,inEgypt, are two colossal statues, one of which is said tobe thestatue of Memnon. Ancient writers record that when thefirstrays of the rising sun fall upon this statue, a sound isheard toissue from it which they compare to the snapping of aharp-

string. There is some doubt about the identification oftheexisting statue with the one described by the ancients,and themysterious sounds are still more doubtful. Yet there arenotwanting some modern testimonies to their being stillaudible. Ithas been suggested that sounds produced by confinedair making

its escape from crevices or caverns in the rocks mayhave givensome ground for the story. Sir Gardner Wilkinson, a latetraveller, of the highest authority, examined the statueitself,and discovered that it was hollow, and that "in the lap ofthestatue is a stone, which, on being struck, emits ametallicsound, that might still be made use of to deceive avisitor who

was predisposed to believe its powers."

The vocal statue of Memnon is a favorite subject ofallusion 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 ringsThe living lyre and vibrates all its strings;Accordant aisles the tender tones prolong,And holy echoes swell the adoring song."

Echo and Narcissus

Echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of thewoods and hills, whereshe devoted herself to woodland sports.She was a favorite ofDiana, and attended her in the chase.But Echo had one failing;

she was fond of talking, and whether in chat orargument wouldhave the last word. One day Juno was seeking herhusband, who,she had reason to fear, was amusing himself among the

nymphs.Echo by her talk contrived to detain the goddess till thenymphsmade their escape. When Juno discovered it, she passedsentenceupon Echo in these words: "You shall forfeit the use ofthattongue with which you have cheated me, except for thatonepurpose you are so fond of REPLY. You shall still have

thelast word, but no power to speak first."


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This nymph saw Narcissus, a beautiful youth, as hepursued thechase upon the mountains. She loved him, and followedhisfootsteps. Oh, how she longed to address him in thesoftest

accents, and win him to converse, but it was not in herpower.She waited with impatience for him to speak first, andhad heranswer ready. One day the youth, being separated fromhiscompanions, shouted aloud, "Who's here?" Echo replied,"Here."Narcissus looked around, but seeing no one, called out,"Come."

Echo answered, "Come." As no one came, Narcissuscalled again,"Why do you shun me?" Echo asked the same question."Let us

join one another," said the youth. The maid answeredwith allher heart in the same words, and hastened to the spot,ready tothrow her arms about his neck. He started back,exclaiming,

"Hands off! I would rather die than you should haveme." "Haveme," said she; but it was all in vain. He left her, and shewentto hide her blushes in the recesses of the woods. Fromthat timeforth she lived in caves and among mountain cliffs. Herformfaded with grief, till at last all her flesh shrank away. Herbones were changed into rocks, and there was nothingleft of her

but her voice. With that she is still ready to reply to anyonewho calls her, and keeps up her old habit of having thelastword.

Narcissus was cruel not in this case alone. He shunned

all therest of the nymphs as he had done poor Echo. One daya maiden,who had in vain endeavored to attract him, uttered aprayer thathe might some time or other feel what it was to loveand meet noreturn of affection. The avenging goddess heard andgranted theprayer.

There was a clear fountain, with water like silver, towhich theshepherds never drove their flocks. Nor did themountain goatsresort to it, nor any of the beasts of the forest; neitherwas itdefaced with fallen leaves or branches; but the grassgrew fresharound it, and the rocks sheltered it from the sun. Hither

cameone day the youth fatigued with hunting, heated andthirsty. Hestooped down to drink, and saw his own image in thewater; hethought it was some beautiful water=spirit living in thefountain. He stood gazing with admiration at thosebright eyes,those locks curled like the locks of Bacchus or Apollo,therounded cheeks, the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the


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glow ofhealth and exercise over all. He fell in love with himself.Hebrought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his armsin toembrace the beloved object. It fled at the touch, butreturned

again after a moment and renewed the fascination. Hecould nottear himself away; he lost all thought of food or rest,while hehovered over the brink of the fountain gazing upon hisown image.He talked with the supposed spirit: "Why, beautifulbeing, do youshun me? Surely my face is not one to repel you. Thenymphs

love me, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me.When Istretch forth my arms you do the same; and you smileupon me andanswer my beckonings with the like." His tears fell intothewater and disturbed the image. As he saw it depart, heexclaimed, "Stay, I entreat you! Let me at least gazeupon you,if I may not touch you." With this, and much more of the

samekind, he cherished the flame that consumed him, so thatbydegrees he lost his color, his vigor, and the beautywhichformerly had so charmed the nymph Echo. She keptnear him,however, and when he exclaimed, "Alas! Alas!" sheanswered himwith the same words. He pined away and died; andwhen his shade

passed the Stygian river, it leaned over the boat tocatch a lookof itself in the waters. The nymphs mourned for him,especiallythe water-nymphs; and when they smote their breasts,Echo smotehers also. They prepared a funeral pile, and would have

burnedthe body, but it was nowhere to be found; but in itsplace aflower, purple within, and surrounded with white leaves,whichbears the name and preserves the memory ofNarcissus.

Milton alludes to the story of Echo and Narcissus in theLady's

song in Comus. She is seeking her brothers in the forest,andsings to attract their attention.

"Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseenWithin thy aery shellBy slow Meander's margent green.And in the violet-embroidered vale,Where the love-lorn nightingaleNightly to thee her sad song mourneth well;

Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pairThat likes thy Narcissus are?Oh, if thou haveHid 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 accountwhich


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he makes Eve give of the first sight of herself reflectedin thefountain:

"That day I oft remember when from sleepI first awaked, and found myself reposedUnder a shade on flowers, much wondering where

And what I was, whence thither brought, and howNot distant far from thence a murmuring soundOf waters issued from a cave, and spreadInto a liquid plain, then stood unmovedPure as the expanse of heaven; I thither wentWith unexperienced thought, and laid me downOn the green bank, to look into the clearSmooth lake that to me seemed another sky.As I bent down to look, just oppositeA 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 looksOf sympathy and love. There had I fixedMine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire,Had not a voice thus warned me: 'What thou seest,What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself.'"Paradise Lost, Book IV

The fable of Narcissus is often alluded to by the poets.

Hereare two epigrams which treat it in different ways. Thefirst isby 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 brookOr 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-enamored he."

Vertumnus and Pomona

The Hamadryads were Wood-nymphs.Among them was Pomona, and noone excelled her in love of the gardenand the culture of fruit.She cared not for forests and rivers, butloved the cultivated

country and trees that bear deliciousapples. Her right handbore for its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning knife.Armedwith this, she worked at one time, to repress the tooluxuriantgrowths, and curtail the branches that straggled out ofplace; atanother, to split the twig and insert therein a graft,making the

branch adopt a nursling not its own. She took care, too,that


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her favorites should not suffer from drought, and ledstreams ofwater by them that the thirsty roots might drink. Thisoccupation was her pursuit, her passion; and she wasfree fromthat which Venus inspires. She was not without fear ofthe

country people, and kept her orchard locked, andallowed not mento enter. The Fauns and Satyrs would have given alltheypossessed to win her, and so would old Sylvanus, wholooks youngfor his years, and Pan, who wears a garland of pineleaves aroundhis head. But Vertumnus loved her best of all; yet hesped no

better than the rest. Oh, how often, in the disguise of areaper, did he bring her corn in a basket, and looked theveryimage of a reaper! With a hay-band tied round him, onewouldthink he had just come from turning over the grass.Sometimes hewould have an ox-goad in his hand, and you would havesaid he had

just unyoked his weary oxen. Now he bore a pruning-

hook, andpersonated a vine-dresser; and again with a ladder onhisshoulder, he seemed as if he was going to gatherapples.Sometimes he trudged along as a discharged soldier,and again hebore a fishing-rod as if going to fish. In this way, hegainedadmission to her, again and again, and fed his passion

with the

sight of her.

One day he came in the guise of an old woman, hergray hairsurmounted with a cap, and a staff in her hand. Sheentered thegarden and admired the fruit. "It does you credit, my

dear," shesaid, and kissed Pomona, not exactly with an oldwoman's kiss.She sat down on a bank, and looked up at the branchesladen withfruit which hung over her. Opposite was an elmentwined with avine loaded with swelling grapes. She praised the treeand itsassociated vine, equally. "But," said Vertumnus, "if the

treestood alone, and had no vine clinging to it, it would lieprostrate on the ground. Why will you not take a lessonfrom thetree and the vine, and consent to unite yourself withsome one?I wish you would. Helen herself had not more numeroussuitors,nor Penelope, the wife of shrewd Ulysses. Even whileyou spurn

them, they court you rural deities and others of everykind thatfrequent these mountains. But if you are prudent andwant tomake a good alliance, and will let an old woman adviseyou, wholoves you better than you have any idea of, dismiss alltherest and accept Vertumnus, on my recommendation. Iknow him as

well as he knows himself. He is not a wandering deity,


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butbelongs to these mountains. Nor is he like too many ofthelovers nowadays, who love any one they happen to see;he lovesyou, and you only. Add to this, he is young andhandsome, and

has the art of assuming any shape he pleases, and canmakehimself just what you command him. Moreover, he lovesthe samethings that you do, delights in gardening, and handlesyourapples with admiration. But NOW he cares nothing forfruits, norflowers, nor anything else, but only yourself. Take pityon him,

and fancy him speaking now with my mouth. Rememberthat the godspunish cruelty, and that Venus hates a hard heart, andwill visitsuch offenses sooner or later. To prove this, let me tellyou astory, which is well known in Cyprus to be a fact; and Ihope itwill have the effect to make you more merciful.

"Iphis was a young man of humble parentage, who sawand lovedAnaxarete, a noble lady of the ancient family of Teucer.Hestruggled long with his passion, but when he found hecould notsubdue it, he came a suppliant to her mansion. First hetold hispassion to her nurse, and begged her as she loved herfoster-

child to favor his suit. And then he tried to win her

domesticsto his side. Sometimes he committed his vows to writtentablets,and often hung at her door garlands which he hadmoistened withhis tears. He stretched himself on her threshold, anduttered

his complaints to the cruel bolts and bars. She wasdeafer thanthe surges which rise in the November gale; harder thansteelfrom the German forges, or a rock that still clings to itsnativecliff. She mocked and laughed at him, adding cruelwords to herungentle treatment, and gave not the slightest gleam ofhope.

"Iphis could not any longer endure the torments ofhopeless love,and standing before her doors, he spake these lastwords:'Anaxarete, you have conquered, and shall no longerhave to bearmy importunities. Enjoy your triumph! Sing songs of joy,andbind your forehead with laurel, you have conquered! I

die;stony heart, rejoice! This at least I can do to gratify you,andforce you to praise me; and thus shall I prove that thelove ofyou left me but with life. Nor will I leave it to rumor totellyou of my death. I will come myself, and you shall seeme die,and feast your eyes on the spectacle. Yet, Oh, ye gods,

who look


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down on mortal woes, observe my fate! I ask but this!Let me beremembered in coming ages, and add those years tomy name whichyou have reft from my life.' Thus he said, and, turninghis paleface and weeping eyes towards her mansion, he

fastened a rope tothe gate-post, on which he had hung garlands, andputting hishead into the noose, he murmured, 'This garland atleast willplease you, cruel girl!' And falling, hung suspended withhisneck broken. As he fell he struck against the gate, andthesound was as the sound of a groan. The servants

opened the doorand found him dead, and with exclamations of pityraised him andcarried him home to his mother, for his father was notliving.She received the dead body of her son, and folded thecold formto her bosom; while she poured forth the sad wordswhich bereavedmothers utter. The mournful funeral passed through the

town, andthe pale corpse was borne on a bier to the place of thefuneralpile. By chance the home of Anaxarete was on thestreet wherethe procession passed, and the lamentations of themourners metthe ears of her whom the avenging deity had alreadymarked forpunishment.

"'Let us see this sad procession,' said she, and mountedto aturret, whence through an open window she lookedupon thefuneral. Scarce had her eyes rested upon the form ofIphisstretched on the bier, when they began to stiffen, and

the warmblood in her body to become cold. Endeavoring to stepback, shefound she could not move her feet; trying to turn awayher face,she tried in vain; and by degrees all her limbs becamestony likeher heart. That you may not doubt the fact, the statuestillremains, and stands in the temple of Venus at Salamis,

in theexact form of the lady. Now think of these things, mydear, andlay aside your scorn and your delays, and accept alover. So mayneither the vernal frosts blight your young fruits, norfuriouswinds scatter your blossoms!"

When Vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the

disguise of an oldwoman, and stood before her in his proper person, as acomelyyouth. It appeared to her like the sun bursting through acloud.He would have renewed his entreaties, but there was noneed; hisarguments and the sight of his true form prevailed, andthe Nymphno longer resisted, but owned a mutual flame.


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Pomona was the especial patroness of the apple-orchard, and assuch she was invoked by Phillips, the author of a poemon Cider,in blank verse, in the following lines:

"What soil the apple loves, what care is due

To orchats, timeliest when to press the fruits,Thy gift, Pomona, in Miltonian verseAdventurous I presume to sing."

Thomson, in the Seasons, alludes to Phillips:

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

It will be seen that Thomson refers to the poet'sreference toMilton, but it is not true that Phillips is only the secondwriter of English blank verse. Many other poets besideMiltonhad used it long before Phillips' time.

But Pomona was also regarded as presiding over otherfruits, and,as 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 reclinedBeneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes,Fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit."

Pyramus and Thisbe

Pyramus was the handsomest youth, andThisbe the fairest maiden,in all Babylonia, where Semiramisreigned. Their parentsoccupied adjoining houses; andneighborhood brought the youngpeople together, and acquaintance

ripened into love. They wouldgladly have married, but their parents forbade. Onething,however, they could not forbid that love should glowwith equalardor in the bosoms of both. They conversed by signsandglances, and the fire burned more intensely for beingcovered up.In the wall that parted the two houses there was a

crack, causedby some fault in the structure. No one had remarked itbefore,but the lovers discovered it. 'What will love notdiscover? Itafforded a passage to the voice; and tender messagesused to passbackward and forward through the gap. As they stood,Pyramus onthis side, Thisbe on that, their breaths would mingle.

"Cruelwall," they said, "why do you keep two lovers apart? Butwe willnot be ungrateful. We owe you, we confess, theprivilege oftransmitting loving words to willing ears." Such wordstheyuttered on different sides of the wall; and when nightcame andthey must say farewell, they pressed their lips upon the

wall,


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she on her side, he on his, as they could come nonearer.

One morning, when Aurora had put out the stars, andthe sun hadmelted the frost from the grass, they met at theaccustomed spot.

Then, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed thatnextnight, when all was still, they would slip away fromwatchfuleyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields;and toinsure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice,standingwithout the city's bounds, called the tomb of Ninus, andthat the

one who came first should await the other at the foot ofacertain tree. It was a white mulberry tree and stoodnear a coolspring. All was agreed on, and they waited impatientlyfor thesun to go down beneath the waters and night to rise upfrom them.

Then cautiously Thisbe stole forth, unobserved by thefamily, her

head covered with a veil, made her way to themonument and satdown under the tree. As she sat alone in the dim light oftheevening she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking withrecentslaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst.

Thisbefled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of arock. As

she fled she dropped her veil. The lioness, after drinking

atthe spring, turned to retreat to the woods, and seeingthe veilon the ground, tossed and rent it with her bloodymouth.

Pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the

place ofmeeting. He saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion,and thecolor fled from his cheeks at the sight. Presently hefound theveil all rent and bloody. "Oh, hapless girl," said he, "Ihavebeen the cause of thy death! Thou, more worthy of lifethan I,hast fallen the first victim. I will follow. I am the guilty

cause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril,and notbeing myself on the spot to guard thee. Come forth, yelions,from the rocks, and tear this guilty body with yourteeth" Hetook up the veil, carried it with him to the appointedtree, andcovered it with kisses and with tears. "My blood alsoshall

stain your texture," said he, and drawing his swordplunged itinto his heart. The blood spurted from the wound, andtinged thewhite mulberries of the tree all red; and sinking into theearthreached the roots, so that the red color mountedthrough thetrunk to the fruit.

By this time, Thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet


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wishing notto disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, lookinganxiously for the youth, eager to tell him the danger shehadescaped. When she came to the spot and saw thechanged color ofthe mulberries she doubted whether it was the same

place. Whileshe hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in theagoniesof death. She started back, a shudder ran through herframe as aripple on the face of the still water when a suddenbreeze sweepsover it. But as soon as she recognized her lover, shescreamedand beat her breast; embracing the lifeless body,

pouring tearsinto its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips."Oh,Pyramus," she cried, "what has done this? Answer me,Pyramus; itis your own Thisbe that speaks. Hear me, dearest, andlift thatdrooping head!" At the name of Thisbe, Pyramusopened his eyes,then closed them again. She saw her veil stained with

blood andthe scabbard empty of its sword. "Thy own hand hasslain thee,and for my sake," she said. "I too can be brave for once,and mylove is as strong as thine. I will follow thee in death, for Ihave been the cause; and death, which alone could partus, shallnot prevent my joining thee. And ye, unhappy parentsof us both,

deny us not our united request. As love and death have

joinedus, let one tomb contain us. And thou, tree, retain themarks ofslaughter. Let thy berries still serve for memorials of ourblood." So saying, she plunged the sword into herbreast. Herparents acceded to her wish; the gods also ratified it.

The twobodies were buried in one sepulchre, and the tree everafterbrought forth purple berries, as it does to this day.

Moore, in the Sylph's Ball, speaking of Davy's SafetyLamp, isreminded of the wall that separated Thisbe and herlover:--

"O for that lamp's metallic gauze,That curtain of protecting wire,Which Davy delicately drawsAround 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 pairMay see each other, but not kiss."

In Mickle's translation of the Lusiad occurs the followingallusion to the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, and themetamorphosis of the mulberries. The poet is describingtheIsland of Love.

" here each gift Pomona's hand bestowsIn cultured garden, free uncultured flows,

The flavor sweeter and the hue more fairThan e'er was fostered by the hand of care.

The cherry here in shining crimson glows,


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And stained with lover's blood, in pendent rows,The mulberries o'erload the bending boughs."

If any of our young readers can be so hard-hearted as toenjoy alaugh at the expense of poor Pyramus and Thisbe, theymay find an

opportunity by turning to Shakespeare's play ofMidsummer Night'sDream, where it is most amusingly burlesqued.

Here is the description of the play and the characters bythePrologue.

"Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;But wonder on, till truth makes all things plain.

This man is Pyramus, if you would know;This lovely lady Thisby is certain.

This man with lime and roughcast, doth presentWall, that vile Wall, which did these lovers sunder;And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content

To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.This man, with lanthorn, dog and bush of thorn,Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,By Moonshine did these lovers think no scorn

To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.This grisly beast, which by name Lion hight.The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,Did scare away, or rather did affright;And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall,Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.

Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain;Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade,

He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast;

And, Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,His dagger drew and died."

Baucis and Philemon

On a certain hill in Phrygia stand alinden tree and an oak,enclosed by a low wall. Not far from thespot is a marsh,formerly good habitable land, but nowindented with pools, theresort of fen-birds and cormorants.Once on a time, Jupiter, inhuman shape, visited this country, and

with him his son Mercury(he of the caduceus), without his wings. They presentedthemselves at many a door as weary travellers, seekingrest andshelter, but found all closed, for it was late, and theinhospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves toopen fortheir reception. At last a humble mansion receivedthem, a smallthatched cottage, where Baucis, a pious old dame, andher husbandPhilemon, united when young, had grown old together.Not ashamedof their poverty, they made it endurable by moderatedesires andkind dispositions. One need not look there for master orforservant; they two were the whole household, masterand servantalike. When the two heavenly guests crossed thehumblethreshold, and bowed their heads to pass under the lowdoor, theold man placed a seat, on which Baucis, bustling and


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attentive,spread a cloth, and begged them to sit down. Then sheraked outthe coals from the ashes, kindled up a fire, and fed itwithleaves and dry bark, and with her scanty breath blew itinto a

flame. She brought out of a corner split sticks and drybranches, broke them up, and placed them under thesmall kettle.Her husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden,and she shredthem from the stalks, and prepared them for the pot Hereacheddown with a forked stick a flitch of bacon hanging in thechimney, cut a small piece, and put it in the pot to boilwith

the herbs, setting away the rest for another time. Abeechenbowl was filled with warm water that their guests mightwash.While all was doing they beguiled the time withconversation.

On the bench designed for the guests was laid a cushionstuffedwith sea-weed; and a cloth, only produced on great

occasions, butold and coarse enough, was spread over that. The oldwoman, withher apron on, with trembling hand set the table. One legwasshorter than the rest, but a shell put under restored thelevel.When fixed, she rubbed the table down with somesweet-smellingherbs. Upon it she set some olives, Minerva's-fruit, some

cornel-berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes

andcheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes. All wereservedin earthen dishes, and an earthenware pitcher, withwooden cups,stood beside them. When all was ready, the stew,smoking hot,

was set on the table. Some wine, not of the oldest, wasadded;and for dessert, apples and wild honey; and over andabove all,friendly faces, and simple but hearty welcome.

Now while the repast proceeded, the old folks wereastonished tosee that the wine, as fast as it was poured out, reneweditself

in the pitcher, of its own accord. Struck with terror,Baucisand Philemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell ontheirknees, and with clasped hands implored forgiveness fortheir poorentertainment. There was an old goose, which they keptas theguardian of their humble cottage; and they bethoughtthem to make

this a sacrifice in honor of their guests. But the goose,toonimble for the old folks, eluded their pursuit with the aidoffeet and wings, and at last took shelter between thegodsthemselves. They forbade it to be slain; and spoke inthesewords: "We are gods. This inhospitable village shall paythe

penalty of its impiety; you alone shall go free from the


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chastisement. Quit your house, and come with us to thetop ofyonder hill." They hastened to obey, and staff in hand,laboredup the steep ascent. They had come within an arrow'sflight ofthe top, when turning their eyes below, they beheld all

thecountry sunk in a lake, only their own house leftstanding.While they gazed with wonder at the sight, andlamented the fateof their neighbors, that old house of theirs was changedinto a

TEMPLE. Columns took the place of the corner-posts, thethatchgrew yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors

became marble,the doors were enriched with carving and ornaments ofgold. Thenspoke Jupiter in benignant accents: "Excellent old man,and womanworthy of such a husband, speak, tell us your wishes;what favorhave you to ask of us?" Philemon took counsel withBaucis a fewmoments; then declared to the gods their united wish.

"We ask tobe priests and guardians of this your temple; and sincehere wehave passed our lives in love and concord, we wish thatone andthe same hour may take us both from life, that I maynot live tosee her grave, nor be laid in my own by her." Theirprayer wasgranted. They were the keepers of the temple as long

as they

lived. When grown very old, as they stood one daybefore thesteps of the sacred edifice, and were telling the story oftheplace, Baucis saw Philemon begin to put forth leaves,and oldPhilemon saw Baucis changing in like manner. And now

a leafycrown had grown over their heads, while exchangingparting words,as long as they could speak. "Farewell, dear spouse,"they said,together, and at the same moment the bark closed overtheirmouths. The Tyanean shepherd long showed the twotrees, standingside by side, made out of the two good old people.

The story of Baucis and Philemon has been imitated bySwift, in aburlesque style, the actors in the change being twowanderingsaints and the house being changed into a church, ofwhichPhilemon is made the parson The following may serveas 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;


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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 almostLost 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 caresBy 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 keepBy lodging folks disposed to sleep."

Pygmalion and Galatea

Pygmalion was a young sculptor from Cyprus. He was amisogynist and scorned the companyof women, preferring to dedicatehimself to his art. He saw women asflawed creatures and vowed never towaste any moment of his life withthem.

Pygmalion saw so much to blame inwomen that he came at last to abhor the sex, andresolved to live unmarried.

Instead he devoted his time, ironically enough, to astatue of a woman.

Perhaps he sought to correct in marble the flaws he sawin women of flesh and blood. Whatever the case, heworked so long and with such inspiration on this statue,

that it became more beautiful than any maiden that hadever lived or been carved in stone. As he finished thestatue's features, they became exquisitely lovely, andhe found himself applying the strokes of hammer andchisel with increasing affection.

When his chisel finally stopped ringing, there stoodbefore him a woman of such perfection that Pygmalion,who had professed his disdain of all females, fell deeplyin love. It was indeed the perfect semblance of a

maiden that seemed to be alive, and only preventedfrom moving by modesty. His statue seemed not to beof stone, but of flesh temporarily still, as though at anymoment it might turn its head and smile at him. His artwas so perfect that it concealed itself and its productlooked like the workmanship of nature.

But stone it was, and it could not return his kisses orrespond to his loving caress. In bitter frustration heembraced the cold marble maid; what irony that he who

had scorned women should fall in love with a woman


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who could never love him in return! He pretended, as achild would, that she was real. He would dress her infine cloths, and bring her flowers and gifts. He wouldtake her into his bed at night and fall asleep with thesculpture clasped to his body. Pygmalion admired hisown work, and at last fell in love with the counterfeitcreation.

Oftentimes he laid his hand upon it as if to assurehimself whether it were living or not, and could not eventhen believe that it was only ivory. He caressed it, andgave it presents such as young girls love, - bright shellsand polished stones, little birds and flowers of various

hues, beads and amber.

He put raiment on its limbs, and jewels on its fingers,and a necklace about its neck. To the ears he hung

earrings and strings of pearls upon the breast. Her dressbecame her, and she looked not less charming thanwhen unattired. He laid her on a couch spread withcloths of Tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and put herhead upon a pillow of the softest feathers, as if shecould enjoy their softness.

The festival of Aphrodite was at hand - a festivalcelebrated with great pomp at Cyprus.

April 1: The Veneralia is the festival of Venus. In thepublic baths of Roma, women bathe in the men's bathswearing wreaths of myrtle. Especially honored is theaspect of Venus named Venus Verticordia, "TheChanger of Hearts." It is, in general, a day for women toseek divine support and aid in their love lives.Women bathe in the men's baths wearing wreaths ofmyrtle. Incense is offered to the Goddess this day, inorder for physical imperfections of women to be hiddenfrom view in the baths. The jewelry is removed from her

statue and ritually washed, and then she is offeredsacrifices of flowers.

Victims were offered, the altars smoked, and the odor ofincense filled the air.

When Pygmalion had performed his part in the

solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidly said,"Ye gods, who can do all things, give me, I pray you, formy wife" - he dared not say "my ivory virgin," but saidinstead - "one like my ivory virgin." Aphrodite, who waspresent at the festival, heard him and knew the thoughthe would have uttered; and as an omen of her favor,caused the flame on the altar to shoot up thrice in afiery point into the air.

Such a passion could not go unnoticed by the goddess

of love, Aphrodite. She took pity on the young man and,when he went to her temple to sacrifice a bull,

Aphrodite gave him a sign. As the offering burned onthe temple, the flames shot up one, two, three times.Pygmalion went home, wondering what to make of themanifestation he had seen. When he entered his studio,however, and saw Galatea, all other thoughts werebanished from his mind. He ran to his statue andembraced it.

When he returned home, he went to see his statue, andleaning over the couch, gave a kiss to the mouth. Itseemed to be warm. He pressed its lips gain, he laid hishand upon the limbs; the ivory felt soft to his touch andyielded to his fingers like the wax of Hymettus. While hestands astonished and glad, though doubting, and fearshe may be mistaken, again and again with a lover'sardor he touches the object of his hopes. Did she seemwarm to his touch, or was it just residual heat form the

sunset that had warmed the stone? He kissed her. Did


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the statue's lips seem soft? He stood back and regardedher. Did there appear the glow of life from within themarble form? Was he imagining it? No.

It was indeed alive! He watched in amazement asGalatea began to move. She stretched her arms aboveher head as though she were waking from a deep sleep.

She turned toward him and smiled, and stepped off herpedestal into his arms.

The veins when pressed yielded to the finger and againresumed their roundness. Then at last the votary ofAphrodite found words to thank the goddess, andpressed his lips upon lips as real as his own. The virginfelt the kisses and blushed, and opening her timid eyesto the light, fixed them at the same moment on herlover. Aphrodite blessed the nuptials she had formed,

The goddess Aphrodite herself attended their wedding.and from this union Paphos was born, from whom thecity, sacred to Aphrodite, received its name.

Venus and Adonis

Venus, playing one day with her boyCupid, wounded her bosom withone of his arrows. She pushed himaway, but the wound was deeperthan she thought. Before it healed shebeheld Adonis, and wascaptivated with him. She no longertook any interest in her

favorite resorts, Paphos, and Cnidos, and Amathos, richinmetals. She absented herself even from Olympus, forAdonis wasdearer to her than heaven. Him she followed and borehim

company. She who used to love to recline in the shade,with nocare but to cultivate her charms, now rambled throughthe woodsand over the hills, dressed like the huntress Diana. Shecalledher dogs, and chased hares and stags, or other game

that it issafe to hunt, but kept clear of the wolves and bears,reekingwith the slaughter of the herd. She charged Adonis, too,tobeware of such dangerous animals. "Be brave towardsthe timid,"said she; "courage against the courageous is not safe.Bewarehow you expose yourself to danger, and put my

happiness to risk.Attack not the beasts that Nature has armed withweapons. I donot value your glory so highly as to consent to purchaseit bysuch exposure. Your youth, and the beauty that charmsVenus,will not touch the hearts of lions and bristly boars. Thinkoftheir terrible claws and prodigious strength! I hate the

wholerace of them. Do you ask why?" Then she told him thestory ofAtalanta and Hippomenes, who were changed into lionsfor theiringratitude to her.

Having given him this warning, she mounted her chariotdrawn byswans, and drove away through the air. But Adonis was

too noble


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to heed such counsels. The dogs had roused a wild boarfrom hislair, and the youth threw his spear and wounded theanimal with asidelong stroke. The beast drew out the weapon with his

jaws,and rushed after Adonis, who turned and ran; but the

boarovertook him, and buried his tusks in his side, andstretched himdying upon the plain.

Venus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet reachedCyprus,when she heard coming up through mid air the groansof herbeloved, and turned her white-winged coursers back to

earth. Asshe drew near and saw from on high his lifeless bodybathed inblood, she alighted, and bending over it beat her breastand toreher hair. Reproaching the Fates, she said, "Yet theirsshall bebut a partial triumph; memorials of my grief shallendure, andthe spectacle of your death, my Adonis, and of my

lamentationshall be annually renewed. Your blood shall be changedinto aflower; that consolation none can envy me." Thusspeaking, shesprinkled nectar on the blood; and as they mingled,bubbles roseas in a pool on which raindrops fall, and in an hour'stime theresprang up a flower of bloody hue like that of a

pomegranate. But

it is short-lived. It is said the wind blows the blossomsopen,and afterwards blows the petals away; so it is calledAnemone, orwind Flower, from the cause which assists equally in itsproduction and its decay.

Milton alludes to the story of Venus and Adonis in hisComus:"Beds of hyacinth and rosesWhere young Adonis oft reposes,Waxing well of his deep woundIn slumber soft, and on the groundSadly sits th'Assyrian queen."

And Morris also in Atalanta's Race:

"There by his horn the Dryads well might knowHis thrust against the bear's heart had been true,And there Adonis bane his javelin slew"

aurora and tithonus

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