Heathen mythology Part 6

Low droops that beauteous brow: But oh! the Delian's pang! his light Of joy lies quenched in sorrow's night: The deathless record _thou_.

"Or, do they tell, these mystic signs, The self destroyer's madness?

Phrensy, ensanguined wreaths entwines: The sun of chivalry declines;-- The wreck of glory's gladness!"

Apollo was so disconsolate at the death of Hyacinth, that, as we have seen, he changed his blood into a flower which bore his name, and placed his body among the constellations. {39}

The Spartans established yearly festivals in his honour, which continued for three days; they did not adorn their hair with garlands during their festivals, nor eat bread, but fed only upon sweetmeats. They did not even sing Paeans in honour of Apollo, or observe any of the solemnities usual at other sacrifices.

----"Pitying the sad death Of Hyacinthus when the cruel breath Of Zephyr slew him, Zephyr, penitent, Who now, ere Phoebus mounts the firmament, Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain."

KEATS.

Saddened by his efforts to form an endearing friends.h.i.+p, Apollo once more sighed for the nymph Perses, daughter of Ocean, and had by her the celebrated Circe, remarkable for her knowledge of magic and venomous herbs.

Bolina, another nymph to whom he was attached, wis.h.i.+ng to escape from his pursuit, threw herself into the waves, and was received by the nymphs of Amphitrion.

"I staid awhile to see her throw Her tresses back, that all beset The fair horizon of her brow, With clouds of jet.

"I staid a little while to view Her cheek, that wore in place of red, The bloom of water, tender blue, Daintily spread.

"I staid to watch a little s.p.a.ce Her parted lips, if she would sing; The waters closed above her face, With many a ring.

"And still I stayed a little more,-- Alas! she never comes again, I throw my flowers from the sh.o.r.e And watch in vain."

HOOD.

After this, Apollo lost the young Cyparissus, who had replaced Hyacinth in his favour, and guarded his flocks; this young shepherd having slain by accident a stag of which Apollo was fond, expired of grief, and was changed into the tree which bears his name.

Apollo now attached himself to the sybil of c.u.mes, and granted to her the boon of prolonging her life as many years as there were grains in a handful of sand which she held. But she lived to repent of this frightful gift.

Alone in the world, her friends departed, and none to remind {40} her of the days of the past, she implored the G.o.ds to release her from the misery which overwhelmed her. Ca.s.sandra, daughter of Priam, consented to her prayer, if Apollo would grant to her the power of divination. Apollo agreed, and swore to the truth of his promise by the river Styx. Scarcely had he uttered the oath, than the G.o.ds, who could not absolve him from it, rallied him on his folly. Irritated at the ridicule they poured upon him, he added to this gift, the restriction, that she should never believe her own prophecies. After this he again yielded to the power of love, and sought to please Clymene, who was the mother of Phaeton. To this nymph succeeded the chaste Castalia, whom he pursued to the very foot of Parna.s.sus, where the G.o.ds metamorphosed her into a fountain. As Apollo was lamenting his loss on the bank of that river, he heard an exquisite melody escaping from the depth of the wood. He approached the place from whence the sound seemed to issue, and recognized the nine muses, children of Jupiter and Mnemosyne.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Mnemosyne, in the Pierian grove, The scene of her intrigue with mighty Jove, The empress of Eleuther, fertile earth, Brought to Olympian Jove the Muses forth; Blessed offsprings, happy maids, whose powerful art Can banish cares, and ease the painful heart.

Clio begins the lovely tuneful race, Which Melpomene and Euterpe grace; Terpisch.o.r.e, all joyful in the choir, And Erato, to love whose lays inspire; To these Thalia and Polymnia join, Urania and Calliope divine."

HESIOD.

{41}

The taste and feelings of Apollo responded to those of these n.o.ble sisters: they received him in their palace, and a.s.sembled together with him to converse on the arts and sciences.

Among their possessions, the Muses and Apollo had a winged horse, named Pegasus. This courser, born of the blood of Medusa, fixed his residence on Mount Helicon, and, by striking the earth with his foot, caused the spring of Hippocrene to gush from the ground. While the courser was thus occupied, Apollo mounted his back, placed the Muses with him, and Pegasus, lifting his wings, carried them to the court of Bacchus.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Envious of the fame of Apollo at this court, Marsyas, the Phrygian, declared that, with his flute, he could surpa.s.s the melody of the G.o.d's divine lyre, and challenged Apollo to a trial of his skill as a musician; the G.o.d accepted the challenge, and it was mutually agreed, that he who was defeated should be flayed alive. The Muses were appointed umpires. Each exerted his utmost skill, and the victory was adjudged to Apollo. The G.o.d, upon this, tied his opponent to a tree, and punished him as had been agreed. The {42} death of Marsyas was universally lamented; the fauns, satyrs and dryads, wept at his fate, and from their abundant tears flowed a river of Phrygia, well known by the name of Marsyas.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Undeterred by this example, Pan, favourite of Midas, King of Lydia, wished also to compete with Apollo in the art of which the latter was master. Pan began the struggle, and Midas repeated his songs with enthusiasm, without paying the least attention to his celestial rival. Pan again sang, and Midas repeated; when, to his surprise, the latter felt, pressing through his hair, a pair of ears, long and s.h.a.ggy. Alarmed at this phenomenon, Pan took to flight, and the prince, desolate at the loss of his favourite, made one of his attendants, some say his wife, the confidant of his misfortune, begging her not to betray his trust. The secret was too great for the bosom of its holder; she longed to tell it, but dared not, for fear of punishment; and as the only way of consoling herself, sought a retired and lonely spot, where she threw herself on the earth, whispering "King Midas has the ears of an a.s.s, King Midas has the ears of an a.s.s." Not long after her visit, some reeds arose in this place; and as the wind pa.s.sed through them, they repeated, "King Midas has the ears of an a.s.s." Enraged, no less than terrified, at this extraordinary occurrence, Midas sacrificed to Bacchus, who, to console, granted him the special favour of turning all that he touched into fine gold.

"Midas the king, as in the book appears, By Phoebus was endowed with a.s.s's ears, Which under his long locks he well concealed; As monarch's vices must not be revealed: For fear the people have them in the wind.

Who long ago were neither dumb nor blind: {43} Nor apt to think from heaven their t.i.tle springs, Since Jove and Mars left off begetting kings.

This Midas knew, and durst communicate, To none but to his wife his ears of state: One must be trusted, and he thought her fit, As pa.s.sing prudent, and a parlous wit.

To this sagacious confessor he went, And told her what a gift the G.o.ds had sent: But told it under matrimonial seal, With strict injunction never to reveal.

The secret heard, she plighted him her troth, (And secret sure is every woman's oath,) The royal malady should rest unknown, Both for her husband's honour and her own.

But ne'ertheless she pined with discontent, The counsel rumbled till it found a vent.

The thing she knew she was obliged to hide: By interest and by oath the wife was tied: But if she told it not the woman died.

Loth to betray her husband and a prince, But she must burst or blab, and no pretence Of honour tied her tongue in self defence.

The marshy ground commodiously was near, Thither she ran, and held her breath for fear Lest, if a word she spoke of any thing, That word might be the secret of the king.

Thus full of council to the fen she went, Full all the way, and longing for a vent.

Arrived, by pure necessity compelled, On her majestic marrow-bones she kneeled, Then to the water's brink she laid her head, And, as a bittern sounds within a reed, 'To thee alone, oh! lake,' she said, 'I tell, And as thy queen, command thee to conceal, Beneath his locks, the king my husband wears A goodly, royal pair of a.s.s's ears.

Now I have eased my bosom of the pain, Till the next longing fit returns again!'"

OVID.

The story of Phaeton, (son of Apollo under the name of Phoebus) is as follows: Venus becoming enamoured of Phaeton, entrusted him with the care of one of her temples. This distinguished favour of the G.o.ddess rendered him vain and aspiring; and when told, to check his pride, that he was not the son of Phoebus, Phaeton resolved to know his true origin; and at the instigation of his mother, he visited the palace of the sun, to beg that Phoebus, if he really were his father, would give him proofs of his paternal tenderness, and convince the world of his legitimacy. Phoebus swore by the Styx that he would grant him whatever he required; and Phaeton demanded of him to drive his chariot (that of the sun) for one day. In vain Phoebus represented the impropriety of his request, and {44} the dangers to which it would expose him; the oath must be complied with. When Phaeton received the reins from his father, he immediately betrayed his ignorance and incapacity. The flying horses took advantage of his confusion, and departed from their accustomed track. Phaeton repented too late of his rashness, for heaven and earth seemed threatened with an universal conflagration, when Jupiter struck the rider with a thunderbolt, and hurled him headlong into the river Po. His body, consumed by fire, was found by the nymphs of the place, and honoured with a decent burial.

The Heliades, his sisters wept for four months, without ceasing, until the G.o.ds changed them into poplars, and their tears into grains of amber; while the young king of the Ligurians, a chosen friend of Phaeton, was turned into a swan at the very moment he was yielding to his deep regrets. Aurora is also the daughter of Apollo. She granted the gift of immortality to t.i.thonus, her husband, son of the king of Troy; but soon perceiving that the gift was valueless, unless the power of remaining ever young was joined with it, she changed him into a gra.s.shopper. From their union sprang Memnon, who was killed by Achilles at the siege of Troy. The tears of his mother were the origin of the early dew, and the Egyptians formed, in honour of him, the celebrated statue which possessed the wonderful property of uttering a melodious sound every morning at sunrise, as if in welcome of the divine luminary, like that which is heard at the breaking of the string of a harp when it is wound up. This was effected by the rays of the sun when they fell on it. At its setting, the form appeared to mourn the departure of the G.o.d, and uttered sounds most musical and melancholy; this celebrated statue was dismantled by the order of Cambyses, when he conquered Egypt, and its ruins still astonish modern travellers by their grandeur and beauty.

"Unto the sacred sun in Memnon's fane, Spontaneous concords quired the matin strain; Touched by his orient beam, responsive rings The living lyre, and vibrates all its strings; Accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, And holy echoes swell the adoring song."

DARWIN.

Apollo having slain with his arrows, Python, a monstrous serpent which desolated the beautiful country around Parna.s.sus, his victory was celebrated in all Greece by the young Pythians; where crowns, {45} formed at first of the branches of oak, but afterwards of laurel, were distributed to the conquerors, and where they contended for the prize of dancing, music and poetry.

It is from his encounter with this serpent, that in the statues which remain of him, our eyes are familiar with the bow placed in his grasp.

----------------"The lord of the unerring bow, The G.o.d of life, and poesy, and light, The sun in human limbs arrayed, and brow, All radiant from his triumph in the fight; The shaft hath just been shot--the arrow, bright With an immortal's vengeance; in his eye And nostril, beautiful disdain, and might, And majesty, flash their full lightnings by, Developing in that one glance the Deity.

"But in his delicate form, a dream of love, Shaped by some solitary nymph, whose breast Longed for a deathless lover from above, And maddened in that vision, are exprest All that ideal beauty ever blest The mind with, in its most unearthly mood, When each conception was a heavenly guest, A ray of immortality, and stood Star like, around, until they gathered to a G.o.d!

"And if it be Prometheus stole from Heaven The fire which we endure, it was repaid By him to whom the energy was given, Which this poetic marble hath arrayed With an eternal glory, which if made By human hands, is not of human thought, And Time himself hath hallowed it, nor laid One ringlet in the dust, nor hath it caught A tinge of years, but breathes the flame with which 'twas wrought."

BYRON.

But the G.o.ds grew jealous of the homage shewn to Apollo, and recalling him from earth, replaced him in his seat at Olympus.

The fable of Apollo is, perhaps, that which is most spread over the faith of antiquity. Paeans were the hymns chanted in his honour, and this was the war cry he shouted in his onset against the serpent Python. On his altars are immolated a bull or a white lamb--to him is offered the crow, supposed to read the future, the eagle who can gaze on the sun, the c.o.c.k whose cry welcomes his return, and the gra.s.shopper, who sings during his empire.

This G.o.d is represented in the figure of a young man without beard, with curling locks of hair, his brow wreathed with laurels, and his head surrounded with beams of light. In his right hand {46} he holds a bow and arrows; in the left, a lyre with seven chords, emblem of the seven planets to which he grants his celestial harmony. Sometimes he carries a buckler, and is accompanied by the three Graces, who are the animating deities of genius and the fine arts, and at his feet is placed a swan.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

He had temples and statues in every country, particularly in Egypt, Greece, and Italy; the most famous was that of Delos, where they celebrated the Pythian games, that of Soractes, where the priests wors.h.i.+pped by treading with their naked feet on burning coals, though without feeling pain, and that of Delphi, in which the youth of the place offered to the G.o.ds their locks of hair, possibly because this offering was most difficult to the vanity of youth. Apollo made known his oracles through the medium of a sibyl. This was a female, named also a Pythoness, on account of her seat being formed of ma.s.sive gold resembling the skin of the serpent Python. The history of the tripod will be found to afford much interest. The fishermen who had found it in their nets, sought the oracle to consult its responses.

This was to offer it to the wisest man in Greece. They presented it to Thales, who had told them that the most difficult of all human knowledge was the art of knowing ourselves. Thales offered the tripod to Bias. When the enemy was reducing his native city to ashes, he withdrew, leaving behind him his wealth, saying, "I carry all that is worthy within myself."