Heathen mythology Part 19

With friendly joy and love, the race divine, But chiefly Bacchus, G.o.d of mirth and wine, Received the dauntless G.o.d, whom Pan they call, Pan, for his song delights the breast of all."

HORACE.

This G.o.d of the shepherds chiefly resided in Arcadia, where the woods and the mountains were his habitation.

------------"His mighty palace roof doth hang From jagged trunks, and overshadoweth Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death, Of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness.

Who loves to see the hamadryads dress Their ruffled locks, where meeting hazels darken, And through whole solemn hours, dost sit and harken The dreary melody of bedded reeds."

KEATS.

The flute was invented by Pan, and formed of seven reeds, which he called Syrinx, in honour of a beautiful nymph of the same name, who, refusing his addresses, was changed into a reed.

----------------"A nymph of late there was, Whose heavenly form her fellows did surpa.s.s, The pride and joy of fair Arcadia's plains, Beloved by deities, adored by swains.

Like Phoebe clad, e'en Phoebe's self she seems, So tall, so straight, such well proportioned limbs, The nicest eye did no distinction know But that the G.o.ddess bore a golden bow, Descending from Lycaeus, Pan admires The matchless nymph, and burns with new desires.

A crown of pine upon his head he wore, And then began her pity to implore.

But ere he thus began, she took her flight, So swift she was already out of sight, Nor staid to hear the courts.h.i.+p of the G.o.d: But bent her course to Ladon's gentle flood: There by the river stopped, and tired before Relief from water-nymphs her prayers implore, Now while the rural G.o.d with speedy pace, Just thought to strain her in his strict embrace, He filled his arms with reeds, new rising in the place: And while he sighs his ill success to find, The tender canes were shaken by the wind, And breathed a mournful air unheard before, That much surprizing Pan, yet pleased him more, {117} Admiring this new music, 'Thou' he said, 'Who cans't not be the partner of my bed, At least shall be the consort of my mind, And often, often to my lips be joined.'

He formed the reeds, proportioned as they are, Unequal in their length and waxed with care, They still retain the name of his ungrateful fair."

OVID.

He was continually employed in deceiving the neighbouring nymphs, and often with success. Though deformed in shape and features, he had the good fortune to captivate Diana in the appearance of a beautiful white goat.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

His adventure with Omphale is amusing; while the latter was travelling with Hercules, a sacrifice which was to take place on the following day, caused Omphale and the hero to seek separate apartments. In the night, Pan introduced himself, and went to the bed {118} of the queen; but there seeing the lion's skin of Hercules, he fancied he had made a mistake, and repaired to that of the hero; where the female dress which the latter had adopted, deceived the rural G.o.d, and he laid himself down by his side. The hero awoke, and kicked the intruder into the middle of the room. The noise aroused Omphale, and Pan was discovered lying on the ground, greatly discomfited and ashamed.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The wors.h.i.+p of Pan was well established, particularly in Arcadia, and his statue was usually placed under the shadow of a pine-tree. Upon his altars were laid both honey and milk, fit offerings for a rural divinity.

"With cloven feet and horned front who roves With choirs of nymphs, amid the echoing groves; He joins in active dance the virgin throng, To Pan, the pastoral G.o.d, they raise the song.

"To Pan, with tangled locks, whose footsteps tread Each snow-crowned hill, and mountain's lofty head; Or wander careless through the lowly brake, Or by the borders of the lucid lake."

HORACE.

He loved the nymph Echo, but in this instance was unsuccessful in his pa.s.sion, for the latter adored the beautiful Narcissus, and {119} wandered over hill and dale in search of the youth on whom she had lavished all her affections, but who unfortunately returned them not.

To whom is not the tale of the self-slain Narcissus known, though perhaps the exquisite story of Echo's love for him may be less familiar to the mind.

After Echo had been dismissed by Jupiter, for her loquacity in proclaiming his numerous amours, she fell in love with the beautiful Narcissus.

"And at the sight of the fair youth she glows, And follows silently where'er he goes."

Unable, however, to address him first, she waited the sound of his beloved voice.

"Now several ways his young companions gone, And for some time Narcissus left alone, 'Where are you all?' at last she hears him call, And she straight answers him, '_where are you all_?'

"'Speak yet again,' he cries, 'is any nigh?'

Again the mournful Echo answers, '_I_,'

'Why come not you,' he said, 'appear in view,'

She hastily returns, '_why come not you_?'

"'Then let us join,' at last Narcissus said, '_Then let us join_,' replied the ravished maid."

In vain had the wondering youth up to this moment looked for the frolic companions, whom he imagined had hid themselves in play. But Echo, charmed with his last exclamation, hastily appeared, and threw herself on the bosom of the astonished youth, who, far from submitting with pleasure to the intrusion,

"With all his strength unlocks her fold, And breaks unkindly from her feeble hold; Then proudly cries, 'life shall this breast forsake, Ere you, loose nymph, on me your pleasure take;'

'_On me your pleasure take_,' the nymph replies While from her the disdainful hunter flies."

As the youth wandered on, anxious only to escape from the society of Echo, he suddenly came upon a fountain, in which, as he reclined on the ground, he fancied he saw the figure of a beautiful nymph.

"Deep through the spring, his eye-b.a.l.l.s dart their beams, Like midnight stars that twinkle in the streams, His ivory neck the crystal mirror shows, His waving hair, above the surface flows, His own perfections all his pa.s.sions moved, He loves himself, who for himself was loved."

{120}

Half maddened by the appearance of a beauty, of which hitherto he had been unconscious, he made every possible effort to grasp what appeared to be the guardian spirit of the water.

"Oft with his down-thrust arms he thought to fold, About that neck that still deludes his hold, He gets no kisses from those cozening lips, His arms grasp nothing, from himself he slips; He knows not what he views, and yet pursues His desperate love, and burns for what he views."

Nothing could win the self-enamoured boy from his devoted pa.s.sion; but bending over the lucid spring, he fed his eyes with the delusive shade which seemed to gaze on him from the depths. At last

"Streaming tears from his full eye-lids fell, And drop by drop, raised circles in the well, The several rings larger and larger spread, And by degrees dispersed the fleeting shade."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Narcissus fancied that the nymph upon whom he supposed he had been gazing, was deserting him, and unable to bear the misery which the thought occasioned, he wounded himself in his agony, deeming that life without her would be insupportable. Echo, however resentful she had felt for the scorn with which he had treated her, hovered near his footsteps and witnessed this last infatuation with redoubled sorrow. {121}

"Now hanging o'er the spring his drooping head, With a sad sigh these dying words he said, 'Ah! boy beloved in vain,' thro' all the plain Echo resounds, '_Ah! boy beloved in vain!_'

'Farewell,' he cries, and with that word he died, '_Farewell,_' the miserable nymph replied.

Now pale and breathless on the gra.s.s he lies, For death had shut his miserable eyes."

The G.o.ds, however, taking pity upon his melancholy fate, changed him into the flower Narcissus.

Many morals have been attempted to be deduced from this beautiful fable, but in none of them have their authors been very successful, unless we may gather a warning of the fatal effects of self-love.

"What first inspired a bard of old to sing Narcissus pining o'er the mountain spring?

In some delicious ramble, he had found A little s.p.a.ce, with boughs all woven round, And in the midst of all a clearer pool Than ere reflected in its pleasant cool The blue sky, here and there divinely peeping Through tendril wreaths, fantastically creeping; And on the bank a lonely flower he spied, A meek and forlorn flower with nought of pride, Drooping its beauty o'er the watery clearness To woo its own sweet image unto nearness; Deaf to light Zephyrus, it would not move, But still would seem to droop, to pine, to love; So while the poet stood in this sweet spot; Some fainted dreamings o'er his fancy shot; Nor was it long ere he had told the tale Of young Narcissus, and sad Echo's vale."

KEATS.

Poor Pan, undeterred by the zealous pa.s.sion of Echo for Narcissus, still continued to love her, and pleased himself by wandering in the woods and deserts, there calling upon her, for the pleasure of hearing her voice in reply.

"In thy cavern-hall, Echo! art thou sleeping?

By the fountain's fall Dreamy silence keeping?

Yet one soft note borne From the shepherd's horn, Wakes thee, Echo! into music leaping, Strange sweet Echo! into music leaping.

"Then the woods rejoice, Then glad sounds are swelling, From each sister voice Round thy rocky dwelling; And their sweetness fills All the hollow hills, {122} With a thousand notes of _one_ life telling!

Softly mingled notes, of one life telling.

"Echo! in my heart Thus deep thoughts are lying, Silent and apart, Buried, yet undying, Till some gentle tone Wakening haply _one_, Calls a thousand forth, like thee replying!