Museum of Antiquity Part 38

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE.

In the pleasant valleys of a country which was called Thessaly there lived a man whose name was Orpheus. Every day he made soft music with his golden harp, and sang beautiful songs such as no one had ever heard before. And whenever Orpheus sang, then everything came to listen to him, and the trees bowed down their heads to hear, and even the clouds sailed along more gently and brightly in the sky when he sang, and the stream which ran close to his feet made a softer noise, to show how glad his music made it.

Now, Orpheus had a wife who was called Eurydike, whom he loved very dearly. All through the winter, when the snow was on the hills, and all through the summer, when the sunshine made everything beautiful, Orpheus used to sing to her, and Eurydike sat on the gra.s.s by his side while the beasts came round to listen, and the trees bowed down their heads to hear him.

But one day when Eurydike was playing with some children on the bank of the river, she trod upon a snake in the long gra.s.s, and the snake bit her. And by and by she began to be very sick, and Eurydike knew that she must die. So she told the children to go to Orpheus (for he was far away) and say how sorry she was to leave him, and that she loved him always very dearly, and then she put her head down upon the gra.s.s and fell asleep and died. Sad indeed was Orpheus when the children came to tell him that Eurydike was dead. He felt so wretched that he never played upon his golden harp, and he never opened his lips to sing, and the beasts that used to listen to him wondered why Orpheus sat all alone on the green bank where Eurydike used to sit with him, and why it was that he never made any more of his beautiful music. All day long he sat there, and his cheeks were often wet with tears. At last he said, "I can not stay here any more, I must go and look for Eurydike. I can not bear to be without her, and perhaps the king of the land where people go after they are dead will let her come back and live with me again."

So he took his harp in his hand, and went to look for Eurydike in the land which is far away, where the sun goes down into his golden cup before the night comes on. And he went on and on a very long way, till at last he came to a high and dark gateway. It was barred across with iron bars, and it was bolted and locked so that n.o.body could open it.

It was a wretched and gloomy place, because the sunshine never came there, and it was covered with clouds and mist. In front of this great gateway there sat a monstrous dog, with three heads, and six eyes, and three tongues, and everything was dark around, except his eyes, which shone like fire, and which saw every one that dared to come near. Now, when Orpheus came looking for Eurydike, the dog raised his three heads, and opened his three mouths, and gnashed his teeth at him, and roared terribly, but when Orpheus came nearer, the dog jumped up upon his feet and got himself ready to fly at him and tear him to pieces.

Then Orpheus took down his harp and began to play upon its golden strings. And the dog, Kerberos (for that was his name), growled and snarled and showed the great white teeth which were in his three mouths, but he could not help hearing the sweet music, and he wondered why it was that he did not wish any more to tear Orpheus in pieces.

Very soon the music made him quiet and still, and at last it lulled him to sleep, and only his heavy breathing told that there was any dog there. So when Kerberos had gone to sleep, Orpheus pa.s.sed by him and came up to the gate, and he found it wide open, for it had come open of its own accord while he was singing. And he was glad when he saw this, for he thought that now he should see Eurydike.

So he went on and on a long way, until he came to the palace of the King, and there were guards placed before the door who tried to keep him from going in, but Orpheus played upon his harp, and then they could not help letting him go.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ERATE (_Muse of the Lute_).]

So he went into the great hall, where he saw the King and Queen sitting on a throne, and as Orpheus came near, the King called out to him with a loud and terrible voice, "Who are you, and how dare you to come here? Do you not know that no one is allowed to come here till after they are dead? I will have you chained and placed in a dungeon, from which you will never be able to get out." Then Orpheus said nothing, but he took his golden harp in his hand and began to sing more sweetly and gently than ever, because he knew that, if he liked to do so, the King could let him see Eurydike again. And as he sang, the face of the King began to look almost glad, and his anger pa.s.sed away, and he began to feel how much happier it must be to be gentle and loving than to be angry and cruel. Then the King said, "You have made me feel happy with your sweet music, although I have never felt happy before; and now tell me why you have come, because you must want something or other, for, otherwise, no one would come, before he was dead, to this sad and gloomy land of which I am the King." Then Orpheus said, "O King, give me back my dear Eurydike, and let her go from this gloomy place and live with me on the bright earth again." So the King said that she should go. And the King said to Orpheus, "I have given you what you wanted, because you sang so sweetly, and when you go back to the earth from this place, your wife whom you love shall go up after you, but remember that you must never look back until she has reached the earth, for if you do, Eurydike will be brought back here, and I shall not be able to give her to you again, even if you should sing more sweetly and gently than ever."

Now, Orpheus was longing to see Eurydike, and he hoped that the King would let him see her at once, but when the King said that he must not try to see her till she had reached the earth, he was quite content, for he said, "Shall I not wait patiently a little while, that Eurydike may come and live with me again?" So he promised the King that he would go up to the earth without stopping to look behind and see whether Eurydike was coming after him.

Then Orpheus went away from the palace of the King, and he pa.s.sed through the dark gateway, and the dog, Kerberos, did not bark or growl, for he knew that Orpheus would not have been allowed to come back if the King had not wished it. So he went on and on a long way, and he became impatient, and longed more and more to see Eurydike. At last he came near to the land of living men, and he saw just a little streak of light, where the sun was going to rise from the sea, and presently the sky became brighter, and he saw everything before him so clearly that he could not help turning round to look at Eurydike. But, ah! she had not yet quite reached the earth, and so now he lost her again. He just saw something pale and white, which looked like his own dear wife, and he just heard a soft and gentle voice, which sounded like the voice of Eurydike, and then it all melted away. And still he thought that he saw that pale white face, and heard that soft and gentle voice, which said, "O Orpheus, Orpheus, why did you look back?

How dearly I love you, and how glad I should have been to live with you again, but now I must go back, because you have broken your promise to the King, and I must not even kiss you, and say how much I love you."

[Ill.u.s.tration: TERPSICh.o.r.e. (_Muse of Dancing._)]

And Orpheus sat down at the place where Eurydike was taken away from him, and he could not go on any further, because he felt so miserable.

There he stayed day after day, and his cheek became more pale, and his body weaker and weaker, till at last he knew that he must die. And Orpheus was not sorry, for although he loved the bright earth, with all its flowers and soft gra.s.s and sunny streams, he knew that he could not be with Eurydike again until he left it. So at last he laid his head upon the earth, and fell asleep, and died; and then he and Eurydike saw each other in the land which is far away, where the sun goes down at night into his golden cup, and were never parted again.

KADMOS AND EUROPA.

In a beautiful valley in Phnicia, a long time ago, two children, named Kadmos and Europa, lived with their mother, Telepha.s.sa. They were good and happy children, and full of fun and merriment. It was a very lovely place in which they lived, where there were all sorts of beautiful trees with fruits and flowers. The oranges shone like gold among the dark leaves, and great bunches of dates hung from the tall palm trees which bowed their heads as if they were asleep, and there was a delicious smell from the lime groves, and from many fruits and flowers which are never seen in America, but which blossom and ripen under the hot sun in Syria.

So the years went; and one day, as they were playing about by the side of the river, there came into the field a beautiful white bull. He was quite white all over--as white as the whitest snow; there was not a single spot or speck on any part of his body. And he came and lay down on the green gra.s.s, and remained still and quiet. So they went nearer and nearer to the bull, and the bull did not move, but looked at them with his large eyes as if he wished to ask them to come and play with him, and at last they came to the place where the bull was. Then Kadmos thought that he would be very brave, so he put out his hand, and began to pat the bull on his side, and the bull only made a soft sound to show how glad he was. Then Europa put out her hand, and stroked him on the face, and laid hold of his white horn, and the bull rubbed his face gently against her dress.

So by and by Kadmos thought that it would be pleasant to have a ride on the back of the bull, and he got on, and the bull rose up from the ground, and went slowly round the field with Kadmos on his back, and just for a minute or two Kadmos felt frightened, but when he saw how well and safely the bull carried him, he was not afraid any more. So they played with the bull until the sun sank down behind the hills, and then they hastened home.

When they reached the house, they ran quickly to Telepha.s.sa, and said to her, "Only think, we have been playing in the field with a beautiful white bull." And Telepha.s.sa was glad that they had been so happy, but she would not have been so glad if she had known what the bull was going to do.

Now, the next day while Europa was on its back, the bull began to trot quickly away, but Kadmos thought he was only trotting away for fun.

So he ran after him, and cried out to make him stop. But the faster that Kadmos ran, the bull ran faster still, and then Kadmos saw that the bull was running away with his sister, Europa. Away the bull flew, all along the bank of the river, and up the steep hill and down into the valley on the other side, and then he scoured along the plain beneath. And Kadmos watched his white body, which shone like silver as he dashed through the small bushes and the long waving gra.s.s and the creeping plants which were trailing about all over the ground, till at last the white body of the bull looked only like a little speck, and then Kadmos could see it no more.

Very wretched was Kadmos when his sister was taken away from him in this strange way. His eyes were full of tears so that he could scarcely see, but still he kept on looking and looking in the way the bull had gone, and hoping that he would bring his sister back by and by. But the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, and then Kadmos saw him go down behind the hills, and he knew now that the bull would not come again, and then he began to weep bitterly. He hardly dared to go home and tell Telepha.s.sa what had happened, and yet he knew that he ought to tell her. So he went home slowly and sadly, and Telepha.s.sa saw him coming alone, and she began to be afraid that something had happened to Europa, and when she came up to him Kadmos could scarcely speak. At last he said, "The bull has run away with Europa." Then Telepha.s.sa asked him where he had gone, and Kadmos said that he did not know. But Telepha.s.sa said, "Which way did he go?" and then Kadmos told her that the bull had run away towards the land of the West, where the sun goes down into his golden cup. Then Telepha.s.sa said that they, too, must get up early in the morning and go towards the land of the West, and see if they could find Europa again.

That night they hardly slept at all, and their cheeks were pale and wet with their tears. And before the sun rose, and while the stars still glimmered in the pale light of the morning, they got up and went on their journey to look for Europa. Far away they went, along the valleys and over the hills, across the rivers and through the woods, and they asked every one whom they met if they had seen a white bull with a girl upon its back. But no one had seen anything of the kind, and many people thought that Kadmos and Telepha.s.sa were silly to ask such a question, for they said, "Girls do not ride on the backs of bulls; you can not be telling the truth." So they went on and on, asking every one, but hearing nothing about her; and as they journeyed, sometimes they saw the great mountains rising up high into the sky, with their tops covered with snow, and shining like gold in the light of the setting sun; sometimes they rested on the bank of a great broad river, where the large white leaves lay floating and sleeping on the water, and where the palm trees waved their long branches above their heads. Sometimes they came to a water-fall, where the water sparkled brightly as it rushed over the great stones. And whenever they came to these beautiful places, Kadmos would say to Telepha.s.sa, "How we should have enjoyed staying here if Europa were with us; but we do not care to stay here now, we must go on looking for her everywhere." So they went on and on till they came to the sea, and they wondered how they could get across it, for it was a great deal wider than any river which they had seen. At last they found a place where the sea was narrow, and here a boatman took them across in his boat, just where little h.e.l.le had been drowned when she fell off the back of the ram that was carrying her and her brother away to Kolchis. So Telepha.s.sa and Kadmos crossed over h.e.l.lespontos, which means the Sea of h.e.l.le, and they went on and on, over mountains and hills and rocks, and wild gloomy places, till they came to the sunny plains of Thessaly. And still they asked every one about Europa, but they found no one who had seen her. And Kadmos saw that his mother was getting weak and thin, and that she could not walk now as far and as quickly as she had done when they had set out from home to look for his sister. So he asked her to rest for a little while. But Telepha.s.sa said, "We must go on, Kadmos, for if we do, perhaps we may still find Europa." So they went on, until at last Telepha.s.sa felt that she could not go any further. And she said to Kadmos, "I am very tired, and I do not think I shall be able to walk any more with you; I must lie down and go to sleep here, and perhaps, Kadmos, I may not wake again. But if I die while I am asleep, then you must go on by yourself and look for Europa, for I am quite sure that you will find her some day, although I shall not be with you. And when you see your sister, tell her how I longed to find her again, and how much I loved her always.

And now, my child, I must go to sleep, and if I do not wake up any more, then I trust that we shall all see each other again one day, in a land which is brighter and happier than even the land in which we used to live before your sister was taken away from us."

So when she had said this, Telepha.s.sa fell asleep, just as the daylight was going away from the sky, and when the bright round moon rose up slowly from behind the dark hill. All night long Kadmos watched by her side, and when the morning came, he saw that Telepha.s.sa had died while she was asleep. Her face was quite still, and Kadmos knew by the happy smile which was on it, that she had gone to the bright land to which good people go when they are dead. Kadmos was very sorry to be parted from his mother, but he was not sorry that now she could not feel tired or sorrowful any more. So Kadmos placed his mother's body in the ground, and very soon all kinds of flowers grew up upon her grave.

But Kadmos had gone on to look for his sister, Europa, and presently he met a shepherd who was leading his flock of sheep. He was very beautiful to look at. His face shone as bright almost as the sun. He had a golden harp, and a golden bow, and arrows in a golden quiver, and his name was Phbus Apollo. And Kadmos went up to him and said, "Have you seen my sister, Europa? a white bull ran away with her on his back. Can you tell me where I can find her?" And Phbus Apollo said, "I have seen your sister, Europa, but I can not tell you yet where she is, you must go on a great way further still, till you come to a town which is called Delphi, under a great mountain named Parna.s.sos, and there perhaps you may be able to find out something about her. But when you have seen her you must not stay there, because I wish you to build a city, and become a King, and be wise and strong and good. You and Europa must follow a beautiful cow that I shall send, till it lies down upon the ground to rest, and the place where the cow shall lie down shall be the place where I wish you to build the city."

So Kadmos went on and on till he came to the town of Delphi, which lay beneath the great mountain, called Parna.s.sos. And there he saw a beautiful temple with white marble pillars, which shone brightly in the light of the early morning. And Kadmos went into the temple, and there he saw his dear sister, Europa. And Kadmos said, "Europa, is it you, indeed? How glad I am to find you." Then Europa told Kadmos how the bull had brought her and left her there a long time ago, and how sorry she had been that she could not tell Telepha.s.sa where she was.

Then she said to Kadmos, "How pale and thin and weak you look; tell me how it is you are come alone, and when shall I see our dear mother?"

Then his eyes became full of tears, and Kadmos said, "We shall never see our mother again in this world. She has gone to the happy land where good people go when they are dead. She was so tired with seeking after you that at last she could not come any further, and she lay down and fell asleep, and never waked up again. But she said that when I saw you I must tell you how she longed to see you, and how she hoped that we should all live together one day in the land to which she has gone before us. And now, Europa, we must not stay here, for I met a shepherd whose name is Phbus Apollo. He had a golden harp and a golden bow, and his face shone like the sun, and he told me that we must follow a beautiful cow which he would send, and build a city in that place where the cow shall lie down to rest."

[Ill.u.s.tration: ANCIENT SACRIFICE. (_From Wall Painting of Pompeii._)]

So Europa left Delphi with her brother, Kadmos, and when they had gone a little way, they saw a cow lying down on the gra.s.s. But when they came near, the cow got up, and began to walk in front of them, and then they knew that this was the cow which Phbus Apollo had sent. So they followed the cow, and it went on and on, a long way, and at last it lay down to rest on a large plain, and Kadmos knew then that this was the place where he must build the city. And there he built a great many houses, and the city was called Thebes. And Kadmos became the King of Thebes, and his sister, Europa, lived there with him. He was a wise and good King, and ruled his people justly and kindly. And by and by Kadmos and Europa both fell asleep and died, and then they saw their mother, Telepha.s.sa, in the happy land to which good people go when they are dead, and were never parted from her any more.

BELLEROPHON.

The minstrels sang of the beauty and the great deeds of Bellerophon through all the lands of Argos. His arm was strong in the battle, his feet were swift in the chase, and his heart was pure as the pure heart of Artemis and Athene. None that were poor and weak and wretched feared the might of Bellerophon. To them the sight of his beautiful form brought only joy and gladness, but the proud and boastful, the slanderer and the robber, dreaded the glance of his keen eye. But the hand of Zeus lay heavy upon Bellerophon. He dwelt in the halls of King Prtos, and served him even as Herakles served the mean and crafty Eurystheus. For many long years Bellerophon knew that he must obey the bidding of a man weaker than himself, but his soul failed him not, and he went forth to his long toil with a heart strong as the sun when he rises in his strength, and pure as the heart of a little child.

But Anteia, the wife of King Prtos, saw day by day the beauty of Bellerophon, and she would not turn away her eye from his fair face.

Every day he seemed to her to be more and more like to the bright heroes who feast with the G.o.ds in the halls of high Olympos, and her heart became filled with love, and she sought to beguile Bellerophon by her enticing words. But he hearkened not to her evil prayer, and heeded not her tears and sighs; so her love was turned to wrath, and she vowed a vow that Bellerophon should suffer a sore vengeance, because he would not hear her prayer. Then, in her rage, she went to King Prtos, and said, "Bellerophon, thy slave, hath sought to do me wrong, and to lead me astray by his crafty words. Long time he strove with me to win my love, but I would not hearken to him. Therefore, let thine hand lie more heavy upon him than in time past, for the evil that he hath done, and slay him before my face." Then was Prtos also full of anger, but he feared to slay Bellerophon, lest he should bring on himself the wrath of Zeus, his father. So he took a tablet of wood, and on it he drew grievous signs of toil and war, of battles and death, and gave it to Bellerophon to carry to the far-off Lykian land, where the father of Anteia was King, and as he bade him farewell, he said, "Show this tablet to the King of Lykia, and he will recompense thee for all thy good deeds which thou hast done for me, and for the people of Argos."

So Bellerophon went forth on his long wandering, and dreamed not of the evil that was to befall him by the wicked craft of Anteia. On and on he journeyed towards the rising of the sun, till he came to the country of the Lykians. Then he went to the house of the King, who welcomed him with rich banquets, and feasted him for nine days, and on the tenth day he sought to know wherefore Bellerophon had come to the Lykian land. Then Bellerophon took the tablet of Prtos and gave it to the King, who saw on it grievous signs of toil and woe, of battles and death. Presently the King spake, and said, "There are great things which remain for thee to do, Bellerophon, but when thy toil is over, high honor awaits thee here and in the homes of the bright heroes." So the King sent him forth to slay the terrible Chimaera, which had the face of a lion with a goat's body and a dragon's tail. Then Bellerophon journeyed yet further towards the rising of the sun, till he came to the pastures where the winged horse, Pegasos, the child of Gorgo, with the snaky hair, was feeding, and he knew that if he could tame the steed he should then be able to conquer the fierce Chimaera.

Long time he sought to seize on Pegasos, but the horse snorted wildly and tore up the ground in his fury, till Bellerophon sank wearied on the earth and a deep sleep weighed down his eyelids. Then, as he slept, Pallas Athene came and stood by his side, and cheered him with her brave words, and gave him a philtre which should tame the wild Pegasos. When Bellerophon awoke, the philtre was in his hand, and he knew now that he should accomplish the task which the Lykian King had given him to do. So, by the help of Athene, he mounted the winged Pegasos and smote the Chimaera, and struck off his head, and with it he went back, and told the King of all that had befallen him. But the King was filled with rage, for he thought not to see the face of Bellerophon again, and he charged him to go forth and do battle with the mighty Solymi and the fair Amazons. Then Bellerophon went forth again, for he dreamed not of guile and falsehood, and he dreaded neither man nor beast that might meet him in open battle. Long time he fought with the Solymi and the Amazons, until all his enemies shrank from the stroke of his mighty arm, and sought for mercy. Glad of heart, Bellerophon departed to carry his spoils to the home of the Lykian King, but as he drew nigh to it and was pa.s.sing through a narrow dell where the thick brushwood covered the ground, fifty of the mightiest Lykians rushed upon him with fierce shoutings, and sought to slay him. At the first, Bellerophon withheld his hands, and said, "Lykian friends, I have feasted in the halls of your King, and eaten of his bread; surely ye are not come hither to slay me." But they shouted the more fiercely, and they hurled spears at Bellerophon; so he stretched forth his hand in the greatness of his strength, and did battle for his life until all the Lykians lay dead before him.

Weary in body and sad of heart, Bellerophon entered the hall where the King was feasting with his chieftains. And the King knew that Bellerophon could not have come thither unless he had first slain all the warriors whom he had sent forth to lie in wait for him. But he dissembled his wrath, and said, "Welcome, Bellerophon, bravest and mightiest of the sons of men. Thy toils are done, and the time of rest is come for thee. Thou shalt wed my daughter, and share with me my kingly power."

Then the minstrels praised the deeds of Bellerophon, and there was feasting for many days when he wedded the daughter of the King. But not yet was his doom accomplished; and once again the dark cloud gathered around him, laden with woe and suffering. Far away from his Lykian home, the wrath of Zeus drove him to the western land where the sun goes down into the sea. His heart was brave and guileless still, as in the days of his early youth, but the strength of his arm was weakened, and the light of his eye was now dim. Sometimes the might was given back to his limbs, and his face shone with its ancient beauty; and then, again, he wandered on in sadness and sorrow, as a man wanders in a strange path through the dark hours of night, when the moon is down. And so it was that when Bellerophon reached the western sea, he fell asleep and died, and the last sight which he saw before his eyes were closed was the red glare of the dying sun, as he broke through the barred clouds and plunged beneath the sea.

ALTHAIA AND THE BURNING BRAND.

There was feasting in the halls of Oineus, the chieftain of Kalydon, in the aetolian land, and all prayed for wealth and glory for the chief, and for his wife, Althaia, and for the child who had on that day been born to them. And Oineus besought the King of G.o.ds and men with rich offerings, that his son, Meleagros, might win a name greater than his own, that he might grow up stout of heart and strong of arm, and that in time to come men might say, "Meleagros wrought mighty works and did good deeds to the people of the land."

But the mighty Moirai, whose word even Zeus himself may not turn aside, had fixed the doom of Meleagros. The child lay sleeping in his mother's arms, and Althaia prayed that her son might grow up brave and gentle, and be to her a comforter in the time of age and the hour of death. Suddenly, as she yet spake, the Moirai stood before her. There was no love or pity in their cold, grey eyes, and they looked down with stern, unchanging faces on the mother and her child, and one of them said, "The brand burns on the hearth, when it is burnt wholly, thy child shall die." But love is swifter than thought, and the mother s.n.a.t.c.hed the burning brand from the fire, and quenched its flame in water, and she placed it in a secret place where no hand but her own might reach it.

So the child grew, brave of heart and st.u.r.dy of limb, and ever ready to hunt the wild beasts or to go against the cities of men. Many great deeds he did in the far-off Kolchian land, when the chieftains sailed with Athamas and Ino to take away the golden fleece from King Aietes.

But there were greater things for him to do when he came again to Kalydon, for his father, Oineus, had roused the wrath of the mighty Artemis. There was rich banqueting in his great hall when his harvest was ingathered, and Zeus and all the other G.o.ds feasted on the fat burnt-offerings, but no gift was set apart for the virgin child of Leto. Soon she requited the wrong to Oineus, and a savage boar was seen in the land, which tore up the fruit-trees, and destroyed the seed in the ground, and trampled on the green corn as it came up. None dared to approach it, for its mighty tusks tore everything that crossed its path. Long time the chieftains took counsel what they should do, until Meleagros said, "I will go forth; who will follow me?" Then from Kalydon and from the cities and lands round about came mighty chieftains and brave youths, even as they had hastened to the ship, Argo, when they sought to win the golden fleece from Kolchis.

With them came the Kouretes, who live in Pleuron, and among them were seen Kastor and Polydeukes, the twin brethren, and Theseus, with his comrade, Peirithoos, and Iason and Admetos. But more beautiful than all was Atalante, the daughter of Schoineus, a stranger from the Arcadian land. Much the chieftains sought to keep her from the chase, for the maiden's arm was strong, and her feet swift, and her aim sure, and they liked not that she should come from a far country to share their glory or take away their name. But Meleagros loved the fair and brave maiden, and said, "If she go not to the chase, neither will I go with you." So they suffered her, and the chase began. At first the boar fled, trampling down those whom he chanced to meet, and rending them with his tusks, but at last he stood fiercely at bay, and fought furiously, and many of the hunters fell, until at length the spear of Atalante pierced his side, and then Meleagros slew him.

Then was there great gladness as they dragged the body of the boar to Kalydon, and made ready to divide the spoil. But the anger of Artemis was not yet soothed, and she roused a strife between the men of Pleuron and the men of Kalydon. For Meleagros sought to have the head, and the Kouretes of Pleuron cared not to take the hide only for their portion. So the strife grew hot between them, until Meleagros slew the chieftain of the Kouretes, who was the brother of Althaia, his mother.

Then he seized the head of the boar, and bare it to Atalante, and said, "Take, maiden, the spoils are rightly thine. From thy spear came the first wound which smote down the boar; and well hast thou earned the prize for the fleetness of thy foot and the sureness of thy aim."

So Atalante took the spoils and carried them to her home in the Arcadian land, but the men of Pleuron were full of wrath, and they made war on the men of Kalydon. Many times they fought, but in every battle the strong arm of Meleagros and his stout heart won the victory for the men of his own city, and the Kouretes began to grow faint in spirit, so that they quailed before the spear and sword of Meleagros.

But presently Meleagros was seen no more with his people, and his voice was no longer heard cheering them on to the battle. No more would he take lance in hand or lift up his shield for the strife, but he tarried in his own house by the side of the beautiful Kleopatra, whom Idas, her father, gave to him to be his wife.

For the heart of his mother was filled with grief and rage when she heard the story of the deadly strife, and that Meleagros, her child, had slain her brother. In heavy wrath and sorrow she sat down upon the earth, and she cast the dust from the ground into the air, and with wild words called on Hades, the unseen King, and Persephone, who shares his dark throne: "Lord of the lands beneath the earth, stretch forth thy hand against Meleagros, my child. He has quenched the love of a mother in my brother's blood, and I will that he should die." And even as she prayed, the awful Erinys, who wanders through the air, heard her words and swore to accomplish the doom. But Meleagros was yet more wrathful when he knew that his mother had laid her curse upon him, and therefore he would not go forth out of his chamber to the aid of his people in the war.

So the Kouretes grew more and more mighty, and their warriors came up against the City of Kalydon, and would no longer suffer the people to come without the walls. And everywhere there was faintness of heart and grief of spirit, for the enemy had wasted their fields and slain the bravest of the men, and little store remained to them of food. Day by day Oineus besought his son, and the great men of the city fell at the knees of Meleagros and prayed him to come out to their help, but he would not hearken. Still he tarried in his chamber with his wife, Kleopatra, by his side, and heeded not the hunger and the wailings of the people. Fiercer and fiercer waxed the roar of war; the loosened stones rolled from the tottering wall, and the battered gates were scarce able to keep out the enemy. Then Kleopatra fell at her husband's knee, and she took him by the hand, and called him gently by his name, and said, "O Meleagros, if thou wilt think of thy wrath, think also of the evils which war brings with it--how when a city is taken, the men are slain, and the mother with her child, the old and the young are borne away into slavery. If the men of Pleuron win the day, thy mother may repent her of the curse which she has laid upon thee; but thou wilt see thy children slain and me a slave."

[Ill.u.s.tration: MELPOMENE. (_Muse of Tragedy._)]