"The Pharaoh was the earthly manifestation and avatar of the unseen and mysterious power which oppressed the souls of man with terror. 'I am Pharaoh,' 'By the life of Pharaoh,' 'Say unto Pharaoh whom art thou like in thy greatness.' These familiar phrases of Scripture gain a new emphasis of meaning as we remember them amongst these temple palaces."

Speaking of this magnificent temple, and of the avenue of sphinxes we have just mentioned, Belzoni exclaims, that "on approaching it the visitor is inspired with devotion and piety; their enormous size strikes him with wonder and respect to the gods to whom they were dedicated. The immense colossal statues, which are seated at each side of the gate, seems guarding the entrance to the holy ground; still farther on was the majestic temple, dedicated to the great God of the creation." And a little after, "I was lost," says he, "in a mass of colossal objects, every one of which was more than sufficient of itself alone to attract my whole attention. I seemed alone in the midst of all that is most sacred in the world; a forest of enormous columns, adorned all round with beautiful figures and various ornaments from top to bottom. The graceful shape of the lotus, which forms their capitals, and is so well-proportioned to the columns, that it gives to the view the most pleasing effect; the gates, the walls, the pedestals, and the architraves also adorned in every part with symbolical figures in basso relievo and intaglio, representing battles, processions, triumphs, feasts, offerings, and sacrifices, all relating to the ancient history of the country; the sanctuary, wholly formed of fine red granite, with the various obelisks standing before it, proclaiming to the distant passenger, 'Here is the seat of holiness;' the high portals, seen at a distance from the openings of the vast labyrinth of edifices; the various groups of ruins of the other temples within sight; these altogether had such an effect upon my soul as to separate me, in imagination, from the rest of mortals, exalt me on high over all, and cause me to forget entirely the trifles and follies of life. I was happy for a whole day, which escaped like a flash of lightning."

Such is the language of Belzoni in describing these majestic ruins, and the effect they had upon him. Strong and enthusiastic as his expressions may, perhaps, appear, they are perfectly similar, we assure you, to those of other travelers. They all seem to have lost the power of expressing their wonder and astonishment, and frequently borrow the words and phrases of foreign nations to describe their feelings at the sight of these venerable and gigantic efforts of the old Egyptians.

We have said that this avenue of sphinxes led to the temple of Luxor.

This second temple, though not equal to that of Karnac in regard to its colossal proportions, was its equal in magnificence, and much superior to it in beauty and style of execution.

At its entrance there still stand two obelisks 100 feet high, and of one single block covered with hieroglyphics executed in a masterly style. It is at the feet of these obelisks that one may judge of the high degree of perfection to which the Egyptians had carried their knowledge in mechanics. We have seen that it costs fortunes to move them from their place. They were followed by two colossal statues forty feet high. After passing through three different large courts, filled with columns of great dimensions, the traveler reached the sanctuary, surrounded by spacious halls supported by columns, and exhibiting the most beautiful mass of sculpture in the best style of execution.

"It is absolutely impossible," again exclaims Belzoni, "to imagine the scene displayed, without seeing it. The most sublime ideas that can be formed from the most magnificent specimens of our present architecture, would give a very incorrect picture of these ruins. It appeared to me like entering a city of giants, who, after a long conflict, were all destroyed, leaving ruins of their various temples, as the only proofs of their former existence. The temple of Luxor," he adds, "presents to the traveler at once one of the most splendid groups of Egyptian grandeur. The extensive propylaeon, with the two obelisks, and colossal statues in the front; the thick groups of enormous columns, the variety of apartments, and the sanctuary it contains. The beautiful ornaments which adorn every part of the walls and columns, cause in the astonished traveler an oblivion of all that he has seen before."

So far Belzoni; and in this he is borne out by Champollion, who speaks of Thebes in terms of equal admiration. "All that I had seen, all that I had admired on the left bank," says this learned Frenchman, "appeared miserable in comparison with the gigantic conceptions by which I was surrounded at Karnac. I shall take care not to attempt to describe any thing; for either my description would not express the thousandth part of what ought to be said, or, if I drew a faint sketch, I should be taken for an enthusiast, or, perhaps, for a madman. It will suffice to add, that no people, either ancient or modern, ever conceived the art of architecture on so sublime and so grand a scale as the ancient Egyptians."

The Great Pyramid, which is yet an enigma, stands for our astonishment. Herodotus tells us, when speaking of the Labyrinth of Egypt, that it had 3,000 chambers, half of them above and half below ground. He says, "The upper chambers I myself passed through and saw, and what I say concerning them is from my own observation. Of the underground chambers I can only speak from the report, for the keepers of the building could not be got to show them, since they contained, as they said, the sepulchres of the kings who built the labyrinth, and also those of the sacred crocodiles; thus it is from hearsay only that I can speak of the lower chambers. The upper chambers, however, I saw with my own eyes, and found them to excel all other human productions. The passage through the houses, and the various windings of the path across the courts, excited in me infinite admiration, as I passed from the courts into the chambers, and from chambers into colonnades, and from colonnades into fresh houses, and again from these into courts unseen before. The roof was throughout of stone like the walls, and the walls were carved all over with figures. Every court was surrounded with a colonnade, which was built of white stone exquisitely fitted together. At the corner of the labyrinth stands a pyramid forty fathoms high, with large figures engraved on it, which is entered by a subterranean passage." No one who has read an account of the Great Pyramid of Egypt, the building of Solomon's Temple, and of the ruins of ancient stone buildings still remaining, will doubt the ability of the ancients in the art of building with stones. Baalbec has probably the largest stones ever used.



Baalbec is situated on a plain now called Bukaa, at the northern end of a low range of black hills, about one mile from the base of Anti-Lebanon.

It is unknown just how old it is, or by whom it was built. Dr. Kitto, in his "History of the Bible," ascribes the building of it to Solomon. But the present remains are mostly of a later period, probably about 3,000 years old. Some of the material and some of the original foundations were used again for the second structures.

Baalbec has justly received a world-wide celebrity, owing to the magnificence of its ruins, which have excited the wonder and admiration of travelers who have enjoyed the privilege of seeing them. Its temples are among the most magnificent of Grecian architecture. The temples of Athens no doubt excel them in taste and purity of style, but they are vastly inferior in dimensions.

While the edifices of Thebes exceed them in magnitude, they bear no comparison with the symmetry of the columns, with the richness of the doorways, and the friezes, which abound at Baalbec. The foundations of the great temple are themselves entitled to rank with the pyramids among the wonders of the world, being raised twenty feet above the level of the ground, and have in them stones of one solid mass ninety feet long, eighteen feet wide, and thirteen feet thick.

The main attractions, however, are the three temples or main chambers. The first, which may be called the great temple, consists of a peristyle, of which only six columns remain, two courts and a portico are standing on an artificial platform, nearly thirty feet high, and having vaults underneath. Beneath the whole platform is an immense court of two hundred feet across; it is a hexagon or nearly round shape. It is accessible by a vaulted passage, which leads to a triplet gateway, with deep mouldings, which opens into the first court.

The great court is 440 feet long by 370 feet wide, and has on each of its sides niches and columns, which, even in their ruins, are magnificent.

The two sides exactly correspond with each other, but the south is in better condition than the other. These niches have columns in front of them in the style of the hexagon, with chambers at the angles of the great court or square. The visitor entering through the portico, and passing into the great court, has before him on the opposite side (the west) of the court, the Great Temple originally dedicated to Baal. This was a magnificent peristyle measuring 290 feet by 160 feet, with nineteen huge columns on each side, and ten on each end, making fifty-eight in all. The circumference of these columns at the base is twenty-three feet and two inches, and at the top twenty feet; and their height, including base and capital, was seventy-five feet, while over this was the entablature fourteen feet more. In the walls of the foundation are seen those enormous stones, some ninety feet in length; others, sixty-four, sixty-three, sixty-two, etc., and all from thirteen to eighteen feet wide, and very frequently thirteen feet thick. These stones mark the extent of a platform of unknown antiquity, but far older than the peristyle temple, and it is from this that the temple took its early date and name. It is probable that the great stones lying in the adjoining quarry were intended for it, as the temple at that date seems to have been left unfinished.



The second temple has not quite the dimensions that the first has, but it is one of the grandest monuments of the ancient art in Syria. It is 227 feet by 117. Its peristyle is composed of forty-two columns, fifteen on each side and eight on each end. At the portico was an immense row of six fluted columns, and within these, and opposite to the ends of the antae, were two others. The height of these columns is sixty-five feet, and their circumference nineteen feet and two inches, while the entablature, richly ornamented above the columns, was about twelve feet high.

The portico is destroyed, only a few pieces of the shafts remaining, and the steps by which it was approached are also destroyed. The columns of the peristyle have mostly fallen; but four remain with their entablatures on the south side near the portico; on the west end there are six remaining, and on the north there are nine. The cut on page 473 gives somewhat of an idea of this temple.

In 1759 an earthquake threw down three columns of the great temple and nine of the peristyle of the Temple of the Sun. It would appear as though nothing but an earthquake could destroy these remains, and they even seem to withstand this with wonderful resistance. At the western end is the cella, or innermost sacred part of the edifice, it is 160 feet by 85. A modern wall was built across the vestibule and the only entrance is through a low hole broken in the wall. Entering through this aperture the spectator has before him the gem of the structure, the great portal. It was twenty-one feet high and forty-two feet long and gorgeously ornamented. The sides are each of a single stone, and the lintels are composed of three huge blocks. Borders of fruit, flowers and leaves are profuse on the architrave, and on the soffit of the door is the celebrated figure of the eagle with a caduceus in his talons, and in his beak strings of long twisted garlands, which are extended on each side and have the opposite ends borne by flying genii.

In 1751 the portal was perfect. When Wood sketched it, but eight years afterwards, the shock of an earthquake rent the wall and permitted the central stone to sink about two feet. Yet, even in this state, it is one of the most striking and beautiful gateways in the world. The first compartment measures ninety-eight feet by sixty-seven, having fluted columns on each side, and the sanctum, or place for the altar and statue, occupies a space of twenty-nine feet deep at the western end and considerably raised above the floor of the nave. Such were the arrangements of this vast magnificent edifice.

It may be well to mention here another building although not so old nor large, but we wish to speak of it because it is so remarkable in withstanding time.



We are speaking of the Pantheon, the splendid building erected by M. Agrippa, the friend of Augustus, in immediate connection with the Thermae, built and dedicated to Jupiter Ultor by him. This building, which embodied, as it were, the highest aspirations of Roman national pride and power, was completed, according to the original inscription preserved on it, B.C. 25, in which year Agrippa was consul for the third time. According to the statement of Pliny ("His. Nat.," 36, 24, I), which however, has been disputed, it was originally dedicated to Jupiter Ultor, whose statue, therefore, undoubtedly stood in the chief niche opposite the entrance. The other six niches contained the statues of as many gods; those of the chief deities of the Julian family, Mars and Venus, and of the greatest son of that family, the divine Caesar, being the only ones amongst the number of which we have certain knowledge. Was it that the statues of Mars and Venus showed the attributes of the other principal gods, or that the statues of the latter stood in the small chapels (aediculae) between the niches, or that the unequaled enormous cupola was supposed to represent heaven, that is, the house of all the gods? Certain it is that, together with the old appellation the new name of the Pantheon, i.e., temple of all the gods, was soon applied to the building. The latter name has been unanimously adopted by posterity, and has even originated the Christian destination of the edifice as church of all the martyrs (S. Maria ad Martyres). Without entering into the consecutive changes the building has undergone in the course of time, we will now attempt a description of its principal features. The temple consists of two parts, the round edifice and the portico. The former was 132 feet in diameter, exclusive of the thickness of the wall, which amounts to 19 feet. The wall is perfectly circular, and contains eight apertures, one of which serves as entrance, while the others form, in a certain order, either semicircular or quadrangular niches; the former are covered by semi-cupolas, the latter by barrel-vaults. Only the niche opposite the entrance is, at the present time, uninterrupted, and open up to its full height, thus corresponding with the formation of the entrance section; in front of each of the others, two columns have been erected, the beams of which close the opening of the semicircular vault. To this chief portion of the building is attached the splendid portico which, in the manner of the above-mentioned temples, projects by three columns, besides a massive wall-structure. The frontage shows eight columns. As a rule, the whole space of the pronaos was without columns; contrary to the rule we here see it divided into three naves by means of two pairs of columns. The center nave, which was also the widest, led to the entrance-door, each of the two others being terminated by an enormous niche. Not to mention aesthetical considerations, these columns were required as props of the roof covering the vast space (the portico is about 100 feet long).



The columns of the portico carried beams, on the frieze of which the following inscription in large letters has been placed: M.AGRIPPA.L.F.COS.TERTIUM.FECIT. Another inscription below this one, in smaller characters, states the building to have been restored by Septimius Severus and Caracalla. The beams carry a large pediment, originally adorned with groups of statues representing Jupiter's victories over the Gigantes. Behind and above this gable rises a second one of the same proportions, serving as an ornament of the projecting wall which connects the round building with the portico. The roof of the portico was supported by beams made of brass. According to the drawing of Serlio, these beams were not massive, but consisted of brass plates riveted together into square pipes—a principle frequently applied by modern engineers on a larger scale in building bridges, etc. Unfortunately, the material of the roof, barring some of the large rivets, has been used by Pope Urban VIII. for guns and various ornaments of doubtful taste in St. Peter's Cathedral. The large columns carrying the ugly tabernacle on the grave of St. Peter are one of the results of this barbarous spoliation. The old door, also made of brass, which leads from the portico into the interior has, on the contrary, been preserved. The outer appearance of the round building is simple and dignified. It most likely was originally covered with stucco and terra-cotta ornaments, of which, however, little remains at present; but the simple bricks, particularly in the upper stripes, where the insertion of the vault becomes visible, look, perhaps, quite as beautiful as the original coating. The whole cylinder of masonry is divided into three stripes by means of cornices, which break the heaviness of the outline, the divisions of the inner space corresponding to those of the outer surface. The first of these stripes is about forty feet high, and rests on a base of Travertine freestone. It consists of simple horizontal slabs of stone, broken only by doors which lead to chambers built in the thickness of the wall between the niches. It corresponds to the columns forming the first story of the interior, the two cornices, in and outside, being on a level. The second stripe, about thirty feet in height, answers to the second story of the interior, where the semicircular arches of the niches are situated. The horizontal stone layers outside are accordingly broken by large double arches, destined to balance the vaults in the interior. They alternate with smaller arches, thus forming a decoration of the exterior at once dignified and in harmony with the general design of the building. The two cornices in and outside are again on a level. The third stripe corresponds to the cupola, the tension of which is equal to 140 feet. The outer masonry reaches up to about a third of its height, from which point the cupola proper begins to rise in seven mighty steps.





The height of the dome is equal to the diameter of the cylindrical building, 132 feet, which adds to the sober and harmonious impression of the whole building. The lower of the above-mentioned interior stories is adorned with columns and pilasters, the latter of which enclosed the niches. Eight of these columns, over thirty-two feet in height, are monoliths of giallo antico—a yellow kind of marble beautifully veined, and belonging to the most valuable materials used by ancient architects. Six other columns are made of a kind of marble known as pavonazzetto; by an ingenious mode of coloring these columns are made to harmonize with those consisting of the rarer material. Above the first lies a second lower story, the architectural arrangements of which may be recognized from Adler's ingenious attempt at reconstruction. Its original decoration consisted of tablets of colored marble, the effect being similar to that of a sequence of narrow pilasters. This original decoration has later been changed for another. Above the chief cornice which crowns this story, and at the same time terminates the circular walls, rises the cupola, divided into five stripes, each of which contains twenty-five "caskets" beautifully worked and in excellent perspective. In the center at the top is an opening, forty feet in diameter, through which the light enters the building. Near this opening a fragment has been preserved of the bronze ornamentation which once seems to have covered the whole cupola. Even without these elegant decorations the building still excites the spectator's admiration, as one of the masterpieces of Roman genius.

Obelisks were in Egypt commemorative pillars recording the style and the title of the king who erected them, his piety, and the proof he gave of it in dedicating those monoliths to the deity whom he especially wished to honor. They are made of a single block of stone, cut into a quadrilateral form, the width diminishing gradually from the base to the top of the shaft, which terminates in a small pyramid (pyramidion). They were placed on a plain square pedestal, but larger than the obelisk itself. Obelisks are of Egyptian origin. The Romans and the moderns have imitated them, but they never equaled their models.

Egyptian obelisks are generally made of red granite of Syene. There are some, however, of smaller dimensions made of sandstone and basalt. They were generally placed in pairs at the entrances of temples, on each side of the propyla. The shaft was commonly ten diameters in height, and a fourth narrower at the top than at the base. Of the two which were before the palace of Luxor at Thebes, one is seventy-two feet high, and six feet, two inches wide at the base; the other is seventy-seven feet high, and seven feet, eight inches wide. Each face is adorned with hieroglyphical inscriptions in intaglio, and the summit is terminated by a pyramid, the four sides of which represent religious scenes, also accompanied by inscriptions. The corners of the obelisks are sharp and well cut, but their faces are not perfectly plane, and their slight convexity is a proof of the attention the Egyptians paid to the construction of their monuments. If their faces were plane they would appear concave to the eye; the convexity compensates for this optical illusion. The hieroglyphical inscriptions are in a perpendicular line, sometimes there is but one in the middle of the breadth of the face, and often there are three. The inscription was a commemoration by the king who had the temple or palace built before which the obelisk was placed. It contained a record stating the houses and titles which the king who erected, enlarged, or gave rich presents to a temple, had received in return from the priesthood, and setting forth, for instance, that Rameses was the lord of an obedient people, and the beloved of Ammon. Such is the subject of the inscription which is in the middle of each face of the obelisks; and though the name of the same king and the same events are repeated on the four sides, there exists in the four texts, when compared, some difference, either in the invocation to the particular divinities or in the titles of the king. Every obelisk had, in its original form, but a single inscription on each face, and of the same period of the king who had erected it; but a king who came after him, adding a court, a portico, or colonnade to the temple or palace, had another inscription relative to his addition, with his name engraved on the original obelisk; thus, every obelisk adorned with many inscriptions is of several periods. The pyramidion which terminates them generally represents in its sculptures the king who erected the obelisk making different offerings to the principal deity of the temple, and to other divinities. Sometimes also the offering is of the obelisk itself. The short inscriptions of the pyramidion bear the oval of the king and the name of the divinity. By these ovals can be known the names of the kings who erected the obelisks still existing, whether in Egypt or elsewhere. The largest obelisk known is that of St. John Lateran, Rome. It was brought from Heliopolis to Alexandria by the emperor Constantine, and was conveyed to Rome by Constantius, who erected it in the Circus Maximus. The height of the shaft is 105 feet, 7 inches. The sides are of unequal breadth at the base, two measure nine feet, eight and one-half inches, the other two only nine feet. It bears the name of Thohtmes III. in the central, and that of Thohtmes IV. in the lateral lines, kings of the eighteenth dynasty, in the fifteenth century B.C. The two obelisks at Luxor were erected by the king Rameses II., of the nineteenth dynasty, 1311 B.C. (Wilkinson). One of these has been taken to Paris. The obelisk of Heliopolis bears the name of Osirtasen I., 2020 B.C. (Wilkinson), and is consequently the most ancient. It is about sixty-seven feet high. The obelisks at Alexandria were brought from Heliopolis about 2,000 years ago. The one that was lying in the sand, and the smaller of the two, was removed to London some years ago, and the other, which was still standing, was presented to the United States by Ismail Pasha, father of the present Khedive. This monument of antiquity is an inestimable treasure to our country. It bears the name of Thohtmes III. In the lateral lines are the ovals of Rameses the Great. It is of red granite of Syene. It bears the name of Cleopatra's Needle, is about seventy feet high, with a diameter at its base of seven feet, seven inches. We can hardly appreciate that we should have standing in New York a relic so ancient—a column upon which Moses and Aaron looked, and doubtless read its hieroglyphic inscription; that Rameses the Great (Sesostris) had his knightly banner carved upon it; that Darius, Cambyses, Alexander the Great, the Ptolemies, Julius Caesar, Cleopatra, Mark Antony and Augustus knew it; that it was equally known and beheld of Pythagoras, Herodotus and Strabo; that a long procession of the most illustrious characters of the middle ages have passed before it, from the days of Clement and Anastasius to those of Don John of Austria; and, finally, that it was the first herald of Egypt to Napoleon and Mohammed Ali. A monument like this will truly be cherished by every citizen. The obelisk of the Piazza del Popolo claims great interest, as it also stood before the Temple of the Sun at Heliopolis. Lepsius attributes it to Meneptha. It was removed to Rome by Augustus, B.C. 19, to ornament the Circus Maximus. The obelisk in front of St. Peter's was brought to Rome by Caligula, and placed on the Vatican in the Circus of Caligula. It is about eighty-three feet high. There are several other Egyptian obelisks in Rome. Nothing can afford a greater idea of the skill of the Egyptians, and of their wonderful knowledge of mechanism, than the erection of these monoliths.



The Greeks never made obelisks outside of Egypt. The Macedonian kings, or Ptolemies, who reigned in that country, from Alexander to Augustus, erected, terminated, or enlarged many monuments, but always according to Egyptian rules. Egyptian artists executed obelisks for their Greek princes, but they did not depart, any more than in the other monuments, from their ancient customs. The Egyptian style and proportions are always to be recognized, and the inscriptions are also traced in hieroglyphics. The obelisk found at Philae was erected in honor of Ptolemy Evergetes II. and of Cleopatra, his sister, or Cleopatra, his wife, and placed on a base bearing a Greek inscription relating the reason and occasion of this monument. It was removed from Philae by Belzoni, and has been now erected at Kingston Hall, Dorset, by Mr. Bankes. It is very far from equaling the Pharaonic obelisks in dimensions, it being only twenty-two feet high.

After the Romans had made Egypt a Roman province they carried away some of its obelisks. Augustus was the first who conceived the idea of transporting these immense blocks to Rome; he was imitated by Caligula, Constantine, and others. They were generally erected in some circus. Thirteen remain at the present day at Rome, some of which are of the time of the Roman domination in Egypt. The Romans had obelisks made in honor of their princes, but the material and the workmanship of the inscriptions cause them to be easily distinguished from the more ancient obelisks. The Barberini obelisk, on the Monte Pincio, is of this number; it bears the names of Adrian, of Sabina, his wife, and of Antinous, his favorite. The obelisk of the Piazza Navona, from the style of its hieroglyphics, is supposed to be a Roman work of the time of Domitian. The name of Santus Rufus can be read on the Albani obelisk, now at Munich, and as there are two Roman prefects of Egypt known of that name, it was, therefore, one of those magistrates who had executed in that country these monuments in honor of the reigning emperors, and then had them sent to Rome. The Romans also attempted to make obelisks at Rome; such is the obelisk of the Trinita de' Monti, which formerly stood in the Circus of Sallust. It is a bad copy of that of the Porta del Popolo. The Roman emperors in the east had also some Egyptian obelisks transported to Constantinople. Fragments of two of these monuments have been found in Sicily, at Catania; one of them has eight sides, but it is probably not a genuine Egyptian work. The use of the obelisk as a gnomon, and the erection of it on a high base in the center of an open space, were only introduced on the removal of single obelisks to Rome.

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RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.

Mythology is from the word myth, meaning fable, it is therefore a system of fabulous opinions and doctrines respecting the deities which the heathen nations have supposed to preside over the world or to influence its affairs.

They had twelve gods, Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto, Mercury, Mars, Vulcan, Apollo, Diana, Minerva, Juno, Ceres and Vesta. Besides these there were other lesser gods, Bacchus, Isis, Hebe, the Muses and the Fates, etc.; also Sleep, Dreams and Death; and there were still others who had free will and intelligence, and having mixed forms, such as the Pegasus, or winged horse, the Centaur, half man and half horse, Hydra, etc.

The Greek theory of the origin of things was that the beginning was chaos laden with the seed of all nature, then came the Earth and the Heavens, or Uranus; these two were married and from this union came a numerous and powerful brood. First were the six Titans, all males, and then the six females, and the Cyclops, three in number; these latter were of gigantic size, having but one eye, and that in the center of the forehead. They represented Thunder, Lightning and Fire, or the rapid flame.

The Titans made war upon their father and wounded him, and from the drops of blood which flowed from the wound and fell upon the earth sprang the Furies, whose names signified "Unceasing," "Envier," and "Blood-Avenger;" and the Giants and melian Nymphs, and from the blood drops which fell into the sea sprang Venus, the goddess of love and beauty.

The youngest and bravest son, Saturn, who wounded and dethroned his father, was, by the consent of his brethren, permitted to reign with an understanding that his male children should all be destroyed. But his wife, Rhea, hid from him three of her sons, Jupiter, Neptune and Pluto, who, waging a ten-year war against their father, finally dethroned him and divided the kingdom among themselves. The oldest, Jupiter, had the heavens, and reigned over all gods, Neptune over the sea, and Pluto the lower regions.

Jupiter then built his courts on Mount Olympos, reigned supreme god over heaven and earth; he was called the father of man and gods, and is placed at the head of the entire creation.

He is generally represented as majestic in appearance, seated on a throne with a sceptre in one hand and thunderbolts in the other. Jupiter had a number of wives; he also married his sister Juno, who was the queen goddess. Besides Jupiter, Juno, Neptune and Pluto the other eight gods were the children of Jupiter.

Neptune was second to Jupiter in power. He is represented as carrying a trident or three-tined fork, with which he strikes the earth and shakes it; he is therefore often called the "earth-shaker." He is usually represented like Jupiter, of a serene and majestic aspect, seated in a chariot made of shells and drawn by dolphins and sea-horses, while the Tritons and the Nymphs gambol about him.

Pluto is represented as the grim, stern ruler over hell. He is also called Hades and Orcus. He has a throne of sulphur, from beneath which flows the Rivers Lethe, or "Oblivion," Phlegethon, Cocytus and Acheron. In one hand he holds his fork and in the other the keys of hell, and beside him is the dog with three heads. He is described as being well qualified for his position, being inexorable and deaf to supplications, and an object of aversion and hatred to both gods and men. From his realms there is no return, and all mankind, sooner or later, are sure to be gathered into his kingdom.

As none of the goddesses would marry the stern and gloomy god, he seized Proserpine, the daughter of Ceres, while she was gathering flowers, and opened the earth and carried her through into his dominion.

Mercury was the messenger and ambassador of the gods. He was represented by wings on his hat, and sandals, and usually carrying a wand, or staff, with two serpents twined around it. He himself was a god of eloquence and the patron of orators, merchants, thieves, robbers, travelers and shepherds.

Mars was the god of war. Sorrow and fear accompanied him, disorder and discord in tattered garments go before him and anger and clamor follow. He is of huge size and gigantic strength, and his voice was louder than those of ten thousand mortals.

Vulcan was the forger, and is generally represented at an anvil in a short tunic, with a hammer in his right hand. He was lame when he was born, and his mother, Juno, was so shocked that she flung him headlong from the Mt. Olympos.

Apollo was the god of archery, prophecy and music, and is usually seen with a harp in his hand and of beautiful figure.

Diana was the goddess of chase, and appears with a bow in her hand and a quiver of arrows at her back, and on her side is a hound. She devoted herself to perpetual celibacy, and her chief joy was to speed like a Dorian maid over the hills, followed by a train of nymphs in pursuit of the flying game.

Minerva is the goddess of wisdom and skill, and the teacher in warfare. She has a serious and thoughtful countenance, a spear in one hand and a shield in the other, while a helmet covers her head. She is said to have sprung from the brains of Jupiter.

Juno, the wife of Jupiter, was haughty, jealous and inexorable; a goddess of dignified and matronly air, often found with a peacock at her feet.

Ceres is the goddess of grain and harvest. She is represented riding on a chariot drawn by dragons, and distributing grain to the different regions of the earth. She holds in one hand corn and wheat, in the other a lighted torch, and wears on her head a garland of wheat heads.

After Pluto stole her daughter, Proserpine, she searched for her throughout the whole world.

Vesta, the goddess of the household and domestic hearths, is represented in a long-flowing robe, with a veil on her head, a lamp in one hand, and a spear or javelin in the other. In her temple at Rome, the sacred fire was guarded by six priestesses, called the Vestal Virgins.

Among the lesser gods there were many, but the most common was Bacchus, who was the god of lust, wine, and the patron of drunkenness and debauchery. He is represented as an effeminate young man, with long flowing hair. In one hand he holds a goblet, in the other a bunch of grapes and a short dagger.

The Muses were goddesses who presided over music and poetry, and all the liberal arts and sciences. They were nine in number.

The Graces were three in number, and personified Splendor, Joy and Pleasure. They were three beautiful sisters, standing with their arms entwined.

The Fates were also three goddesses, who presided over the destiny of mortals. The first was the staff of life, the second spun the cord, and the third cut it off.

This is a brief outline of the origin and nature of the gods and goddesses: and the legends are numerous, and some of them are of exceeding interest and beauty, while others shock and disgust us by the gross impossibilities and hideous deformities which they reveal. We have concluded to give a direct translation of them from the Greek, so that the reader may have them in the pure original form, and thereby have not only the beauty and interest retained, but at the same time an idea of the style of the ancient writings; only a few stories have been modified to bring them nearer to the level of the rest. We will, however, be obliged to use the Greek names instead of the Latin in this translation, as it is from the Greek, and will therefore give the names translated below:

Greek. Latin.

ZEUS, JUPITER. HERE, JUNO. POSEIDON, NEPTUNE. PLOUTON, PLUTO. DEMETER, CERES. APOLLO, APOLO. ARTEMIS, DIANA. HEPHAISTOS, VULCAN. ATHENE, MINERVA. ARES, MARS. APHRODITE, VENUS. HERMES, MERCURY. HESTIA, VESTA.

The most of the Greek people appear to have believed that their divinities were real persons, but their philosophers explained the legends concerning them as allegorical representations of general physical and moral truths. The Greeks, therefore, instead of favoring nature, worshiped the powers of nature personified.

THE DELPHIAN APOLLO.

From land to land the lady Leto wandered in fear and sorrow, for no city or country would give her a home where she might abide in peace. From Crete to Athens, from Athens to AEgina, from AEgina to the heights of Pelion and Athos, through all the islands of the wide AEgaean Sea, Skyros and Imbros and Lemnos, and Chios the fairest of all, she passed, seeking a home. But in vain she prayed each land to receive her, until she came to the Island of Delos, and promised to raise it to great glory if only there she might rest in peace. And she lifted up her voice and said, "Listen to me, O island of the dark sea. If thou wilt grant me a home, all nations shall come unto thee, and great wealth shall flow in upon thee; for here shall Phoebus Apollo, the lord of light and life, be born, and men shall come hither to know his will and win his favor." Then answered Delos, and said, "Lady, thou promisest great things; but they say that the power of Phoebus Apollo will be such as nothing on the wide earth may withstand; and mine is but a poor and stony soil, where there is little to please the eye of those who look upon me. Wherefore I fear that he will despise my hard and barren land, and go to some other country where he will build a more glorious temple, and grant richer gifts to the people who come to worship him." But Leto swore by the dark water of Styx, and the wide heaven above, and the broad earth around her, that in Delos should be the shrine of Phoebus, and that there should the rich offerings burn on his altar the whole year round.

So Leto rested in the Island of Delos, and there was Phoebus Apollo born. And there was joy among the undying gods who dwell in Olympos, and the earth laughed beneath the smile of heaven. Then was his temple built in Delos, and men came to it from all lands to learn his will and offer rich sacrifices on his altar.

THE PYTHIAN APOLLO.

Long time Apollo abode in Delos; and every year all the children of Ion were gathered to the feast which was held before his temple. But at length it came to pass that Apollo went through many lands, journeying towards Pytho. With harp in hand he drew nigh to the gates of Olympos, where Zeus and the gods dwell in their glory; and straightway all rejoiced for the sweetness of his harping. The Muses sang the undying gifts of the gods, and the griefs and woes of mortal men who can not flee from old age and death. The bright Horai joined hands together with Hebe and Harmonia; and Ares stood by the side of Aphrodite with Hermes the slayer of Argos, gazing on the face of Phoebus Apollo, which glistened as with the light of the new-risen sun. Then from Olympos he went down into the Pierian land, to Iolkos and the Lelantian plain; but it pleased him not there to build himself a home. Thence he wandered on to Mykalessos, and, traversing the grassy plains of Teumessos, came to the sacred Thebes; but neither would he dwell there, for no man had yet come hither, neither was there road nor path, but only wild forests in all the land.



Further and further he roamed, across the stream of Kephisos and beyond Okalea and Haliartos, until he came to Telphusa. There he thought to build himself a temple, for the land was rich and fair, so he said, "Beautiful Telphusa, here would I rest in thy happy vale, and here shall men come to ask my will and seek for aid in the hour of fear; and great glory shall come to thee while I abide in thy land." But Telphusa was moved with anger as she saw Phoebus marking out the place for his shrine and laying its foundations; and she spake craftily to him, and said, "Listen to me, Phoebus Apollo. Thou seekest here to have a home, but here thou canst never rest in peace; for my broad plain will tempt men to the strife of battle, and the tramp of war-horses shall vex the stillness of thy holy temple. Nay, even in the time of peace, the lowing cattle shall come in crowds to my fountain, and the tumult will grieve thine heart. But go thou to Krisa, and make for thyself a home in the hidden clefts of Parnassos, and thither shall men hasten with their gifts from the utmost bounds of the earth." So Apollo believed her words, and he went on through the land of the Phlegyes until he came to Krisa. There he laid the foundations of his shrine in the deep cleft of Parnassos; and Trophonios and Agamedes, the children of Erginos, raised the wall. There also he found the mighty dragon who nursed Typhaon, the child of Here, and he smote him, and said, "Rot there upon the ground, and vex not more the children of men. The clays of thy life are ended, neither can Typhoeus himself aid thee now, nor Chimaera of the evil name. But the earth and the burning sun shall consume and scorch thy body." So the dragon died, and his body rotted on the ground; wherefore the name of the place is called Pytho, and they worship Phoebus Apollo as the great Pythian king.

But Phoebus knew now that Telphusa had deceived him, because she said nothing of the great dragon of Krisa, or of the roughness of the land. So he hastened back in his anger and said, "Thou hast beguiled me, Telphusa, with thy crafty words; but no more shall thy fountain send forth its sweet water, and the glory shall be mine alone." Then Apollo hurled great crags down and choked the stream near the beautiful fountain, and the glory departed from Telphusa.

Then he thought within himself what men he should choose to be his priests at Pytho; and far away, as he stood on the high hill, he saw a ship sailing on the wine-faced sea, and the men who were in it were Cretans, sailing from the land of King Minos to barter their goods with the men of Pylos. So Phoebus leaped into the sea, and changed his form to the form of a dolphin, and hastened to meet the ship. None knew whence the great fish came which smote the side of their vessel with its mighty fins; but all marveled at the sight, as the dolphin guided the ship through the dark waters, and they sat trembling with fear, as they sped on without a sail by the force of the strong south wind. From the headland of Malea and the land of the Lakonians they passed to Helos and to Taenaron where Helios dwells, in whom the sons of men take delight, and where his cattle feed in the rich pastures. There the sailors would have ended their wanderings; but they sought in vain to land, for the ship would not obey its helm. Onward it went along the coast of the Island of Pelops, for the mighty dolphin guided it. So from Arene and Arguphea it came to the sandy Pylos, by Chalkis and Dyme to the land of the Epeians, to Pherae and to Ithaka. There the men saw spread out before them the waters which wash the shores of Krisa; and the strong west wind came with its fierce breath, and drove them off to the east and towards the sunrising until they came to Krisa.

Then Phoebus Apollo came forth from the sea, like a star, and the brightness of his glory reached up to the high heaven. Into his shrine he hastened, and on the altar he kindled the undying fire, and his bright arrows were hurled abroad, till all Krisa was filled with the blaze of his lightnings, so that fear came upon all, and the cries of the women rose shrill on the sultry air. Then, swift as a thought of the heart, he hastened back to the ship; but his form was now the form of a man in his beauty, and his golden locks flowed over his broad shoulders. From the shore he called out to the men in the Cretan ship, and said "Who are ye, strangers? and do ye come as thieves and robbers, bringing terror and sorrow whithersoever ye may go? Why stay ye thus, tarrying in your ships, and seek not to come out on the land? Surely ye must know that all who sail on the wide sea rejoice when their ship comes to the shore, that they may come forth and feast with the people of the land?" So spake Phoebus Apollo; and the leader of the Cretans took courage and said, "Stranger, sure I am that thou art no mortal man, but one of the bright heroes or the undying gods. Wherefore tell us now the name of this land and of the people who dwell in it. Hither we never sought to come, for we were sailing from the land of Minos to barter our wares at Pylos; but some one of the gods hath brought us hither against our will."

Then spake the mighty Apollo, and said to them, "O, strangers, who have dwelt in Knossos of the Cretan land, think not to return to your ancient home, to your wives or to your children. Here ye must guard and keep my shrine, and ye shall be honored of all the children of men. For I am the son of Zeus, and my name is Phoebus Apollo. It was I who brought you hither across the wide sea, not in guile or anger, but that in all time to come ye may have great power and glory, that ye may learn the counsel of the undying gods and make known their will to men. Hasten then to do my bidding; let down your sails, and bring your ship to the shore. Then bring out your goods, and build an altar on the beach, and kindle a fire, and offer white barley as an offering; and because I led you hither under the form of a dolphin, so worship me as the Delphian god. Then eat bread and drink wine, as much as your soul may lust after; and after that come with me to the holy place, where ye shall guard my temple."

So they obeyed the words of Phoebus; and when they had offered the white barley, and feasted richly on the sea-shore, they arose to go, and Apollo led them on their way. His harp was in his hand, and he made sweet music, such as no mortal ear had heard before; and they raised the chant Io Paean, for a new power was breathed into their hearts, as they went along. They thought not now of toil or sorrow; but with feet unwearied they went up the hill until they reached the clefts of Parnassos, where Phoebus would have them dwell.

Then out spake the leader of the Cretans, and said, boldly, "O king, thou hast brought us far away from our homes to a strange land; whence are we to get food here? No harvest will grow on these bare rocks, no meadows are spread out before our eyes. The whole land is bare and desolate." But the son of Zeus smiled and said, "O foolish men, and easy to be cast down, if ye had your wish ye would gain nothing but care and toil. But listen to me and ponder well my words. Stretch forth your hands and slay each day the rich offerings, for they shall come to you without stint and sparing, seeing that the sons of men shall hasten hither from all lands, to learn my will and ask for aid in the hour of fear. Only guard ye my temple well, and keep your hands clean and your hearts pure; for if ye deal rightly no man shall take away your glory; but if ye speak lies and do iniquity, if ye hurt the people who come to my altar, and make them to go astray, then shall other men rise up in your place, and ye yourselves shall be thrust out forever, because ye would not obey my words."



NIOBE AND LETO.

In the little Island of Delos there lived a long time ago a lady who was called Niobe. She had many sons and many daughters, and she was very proud of them, for she thought that in all the Island of Delos, and even in all the world, there were no children so beautiful as her own. And as they walked, and leaped, and ran among the hills and valleys of that rocky island, all the people looked at them, and said, "Surely there are no other children like the children of the lady Niobe." And Niobe was so pleased at hearing this, that she began to boast to every one how strong and beautiful her sons and daughters were.

Now in this Island of Delos there lived also the lady named Leto. She had only two children, and their names were Artemis and Phoebus Apollo; but they were very strong and fair, indeed. And whenever the lady Niobe saw them, she tried to think that her own children were still more beautiful, although she could hardly help feeling that she had never seen any so glorious as Artemis and Apollo. So one day the lady Leto and the lady Niobe were together, and their children were playing before them; and Phoebus Apollo played on his golden harp, and then he shot from his golden bow the arrows which never missed their mark. But Niobe never thought of Apollo's bow, and the arrows which he had in his quiver; and she began to boast to the lady Leto of the beauty of her children, and said, "See, Leto; look at my seven sons and my seven daughters, and see how strong and fair they are. Apollo and Artemis are beautiful, I know, but my children are fairer still; and you have only two children while I have seven sons and seven daughters." So Niobe went on boasting, and never thought whether she should make Leto angry. But Leto said nothing until Niobe and her children were gone, and then she called Apollo, and said to him, "I do not love the lady Niobe. She is always boasting that her sons and daughters are more beautiful than you and your sister; and I wish you to show her that no one else is so strong as my children, or so beautiful." Then Phoebus Apollo was angry, and a dark frown came upon his fair young face, and his eyes were like the flaming fire. But he said nothing, and he took his golden bow in his hand, and put his quiver with his terrible arrows across his shoulder, and went away to the hills where he knew that the lady Niobe and her children were. And when he saw them he went and stood on a bare high rock, and stretched the string of his golden bow, and took an arrow from his quiver. Then he held out the bow, and drew the string to his breast, until the point of the arrow touched the bow; and then he let the arrow fly. Straight to its mark it went, and one of the lady Niobe's sons fell dead. Then another arrow flew swiftly from the bow, and another, and another, and another, till all the sons and all the daughters of Niobe lay dead on the hillside. Then Apollo called out to Niobe, and said, "Go and boast now of your beautiful children!"

It had all passed so quickly that Niobe scarcely knew whether it was not a dream. She could not believe that her children were really gone—all her sons and all her daughters, whom she had just now seen so happy and strong around her. But there they lay, still and cold, upon the ground. Their eyes were closed as if they were asleep, and their faces had still a happy smile, which made them look more beautiful than ever. And Niobe went to them all one by one, and touched their cold hands, and kissed their pale cheeks; and then she knew that the arrows of Phoebus Apollo had killed them. Then she sat down on a stone which was close to them, and the tears flowed from her eyes, and they streamed down her face, as she sat there as still as her children who lay dead before her. She never raised her head to look at the blue sky—she never moved hand or foot, but she sat weeping on the cold rock until she became as cold as the rock itself. And still her tears flowed on, and still her body grew colder and colder, until her heart beat no more, and the lady Niobe was dead. But there she still seemed to sit and weep, for her great grief had turned her into a stone; and all the people, whenever they came near that place, said, "See, there sits the lady Niobe, who was turned into stone, when Phoebus Apollo killed all her children because she boasted that no one was so beautiful as they were." And long after, when the stone was grown old and covered with moss, the people still thought they could see the form of the lady Niobe; for the stone, which did not look much like the form of a woman when they came near to it, seemed at a distance just as though Niobe still sat there, weeping for her beautiful children whom Phoebus Apollo slew.

DAPHNE.

In the vale of Tempe, where the stream of Peneios flows beneath the heights of Olympos towards the sea, the beautiful Daphne passed the days of her happy childhood. Fresh as the earliest morning, she climbed the crags to greet the first rays of the rising sun; and when he had driven his fiery horses over the sky, she watched his chariot sink behind the western mountains. Over hill and dale she roamed, free and light as the breeze of spring. Other maidens round her spoke each of her love, but Daphne cared not to listen to the voice of man, though many a one sought her to be his wife.

One day as she stood on the slopes of Ossa in the glow of early morning, she saw before her a glorious form. The light of the new-risen sun fell on his face with a golden splendor, and she knew that it was Phoebus Apollo. Hastily he ran towards her, and said, "I have found thee, Child of the Morning. Others thou hast cast aside, but from me thou canst not escape. I have sought thee long, and now will I make thee mine." But the heart of Daphne was bold and strong; and her cheek flushed and her eye sparkled with anger, as she said, "I know neither love nor bondage. I live free among the streams and hills; and to none will I yield my freedom." Then the face of Apollo grew dark with anger, and he drew near to seize the maiden; but swift as the wind she fled away. Over hill and dale, over crag and river, the feet of Daphne fell lightly as falling leaves in autumn; but nearer yet came Phoebus Apollo, till at last the strength of the maiden began to fail. Then she stretched out her hands, and cried for help to the lady Demeter; but she came not to her aid. Her head was dizzy, and her limbs trembled in utter feebleness as she drew near the broad river which gladdens the plains of Thessaly, till she almost felt the breath of Phoebus, and her robe was almost in his grasp. Then, with a wild cry, she said, "Father Peneios, receive thy child," and she rushed into the stream, whose waters closed gently over her.

She was gone; Apollo mourned for his madness in chasing thus the free maiden. And he said, "I have punished myself by my folly; the light of the morning is taken out of the day. I must go on alone till my journey shall draw towards its end." Then he spake the word, and a laurel came up on the bank where Daphne had plunged into the stream; and the green bush with its thick clustering leaves keeps her name forever.

KYRENE.

Among the valleys and hills of Thessaly, Kyrene, the fair-armed daughter of Hypseus, wandered free as the deer upon the mountain side. Of all the maidens of the land, there was none to vie her in beauty; neither was there any that could be matched with her for strength of arm and speed of foot. She touched not the loom or the spindle; she cared not for banquets with those who revel under houses. Her feasts were spread on the green grass, beneath the branching tree; and with her spear and dagger she went fearless among the beasts of the field, or sought them out in their dens.

One day she was roaming along the winding banks of Peneios, when a lion sprang from a thicket across her path. Neither spear nor dagger was in her hand, but the heart of Kyrene knew no fear, and she grappled with him until the beast sank wearied at her feet. She had conquered, but not unseen, for Phoebus Apollo had watched the maiden as she battled with the angry lion; and straightway he called the wise centaur Cheiron, who had taught him in the days of his youth. "Come forth," he said, "from thy dark cave, and teach me once again, for I have a question to ask thee. Look at yonder maiden, and the beast which lies beaten at her feet; and tell me (for thou art wise) whence she comes, and what name she bears. Who is she, that thus she wanders in these lonely valleys without fear and without hurt? Tell me if she may be wooed and won." Then Cheiron looked steadfastly at the face of Phoebus, and a smile passed over his countenance as he answered, "There are hidden keys to unlock the prison-house of love; but why askest thou me of the maiden's name and race—thou who knowest the end of all things, and all the paths along which the sons of men are journeying? Thou hast counted the leaves which burst forth in the spring-time, and the grains of sand which the wind tosses on the river bank, or by the sea shore. But if I must needs match thee in suitable wisdom, then listen to my words. The maiden is wooed and won already; and thou art going to bear her as thy bride over the dark sea, and place her in golden halls on the far-off Libyan land. There she shall have a home rich in every fruit that may grow up from the earth; and there shall thy son Aristaios be born, on whose lips the bright Horai shall shed nectar and ambrosia, so that he may not come under the doom of mortal men."

Then Phoebus Apollo smiled as he answered, "Of a truth, Cheiron, thou deservest thy fame, for there are none to match with thee for wisdom; and now I go with Kyrene to the land which shall be called by her name, and where, in time to come, her children shall build great and mighty cities, and their name shall be spread abroad throughout all the earth for strength and wisdom."

So the maiden Kyrene came to the Libyan land, and there Aristaios, her child, was born. And Hermes carried the babe to the bright Horai, who granted him an endless life; and he dwelt in the broad Libyan plains, tending his flocks, and bringing forth rich harvests from the earth. For him the bees wrought their sweetest honey; for him the sheep gave their softest wool; for him the cornfields waved with their fullest grain. No blight touched the grapes which his hand had tended; no sickness vexed the herds which fed in his pastures. And they who dwelt in the land said, "Strife and war bring no such gifts as these to the sons of men; therefore let us live in peace."

HERMES.

Early in the morning, long ago, in a cave of the great Kyllenian hill, lay the new-born Hermes, the son of Zeus and Maia. The cradle-clothes were scarcely stirred by his soft breathing, while he slept as peacefully as the children of mortal mothers. But the sun had not driven his fiery chariot half over the heaven, when the babe arose from his sacred cradle and stepped forth from the dark cavern. Before the threshold a tortoise fed lazily on the grass; and when the child saw it he laughed merrily. "Ah! this is luck, indeed," he said; "whence hast thou come, pretty creature, with thy bright speckled shell? Thou art mine now, and I must take thee into my cave. It is better to be under shelter than out of doors; and though there may be some use in thee while thou livest, it will comfort thee to think that thou wilt sing sweetly when thou art dead." So the child Hermes took up his treasure in both arms, and carried it into the cavern. There he took an iron probe, and pierced out the life of the tortoise; and quick as thought, he drilled holes in its shell, and fixed in them reed-canes. Then across the shell he fastened a piece of ox-hide, and with seven sheep-gut cords he finished the making of his lyre. Presently he struck it with the bow, and a wave of sweet music swelled out upon the air. Like the merry songs of youths and maidens, as they sport in village feasts, rose the song of the child Hermes; and his eyes laughed slyly as he sang of the loves of Zeus and Maia, and how he himself was born of the mighty race of the gods. Still he sang on, telling of all that he saw around him in the home of the nymph, his mother, but all the while, as he sang, his mind was pondering on other things; and when the song was ended, he went forth from the cave, like a thief in the night, on his wily errand.

The sun was hastening down the slope of heaven, with his chariot and horses to the slow-rolling stream of Ocean, as Hermes came to the shadowy hills of Pieria, where the cattle of the gods fed in their large pastures. There he took fifty from the herd, and made ready to drive them to the Kyllenian hill. But before him lay vast plains of sand; and, therefore, lest the track of the cattle should tell the tale of his thieving, he drove the beasts round about by crooked paths, until it seemed as though they had gone to the place from whence he had stolen them. He had taken good care that his own footsteps should not betray him, for with branches of tamarisk and myrtle, well twisted with their leaves, he hastily made sandals, and sped away from Pieria. One man alone saw him, a very old man, who was working in his vineyard on the sunny plain of Onchestos. To him Hermes went quickly, and said, "Old man, thou wilt have plenty of wine when these roots come all into bearing trim. Meanwhile keep a wise head on thy crumpled shoulders, and take heed not to remember more than may be convenient."



Onwards, over dark hills, and through sounding dells, and across flowery plains, hastened the child Hermes, driving his flock before him. The night waxed and waned, and the moon had climbed to her watchtower in the heaven, when, in the flush of early morning, Hermes reached the banks of the great Alpheian stream. Then he turned his herd to feed on the grassy plain, while he gathered logs of wood, and, rubbing two sticks together, kindled the first flame that burned upon the earth where dwell the sons of men. The smoke went up to the heaven, and the flame crackled fiercely beneath it, as Hermes brought forth two of the herd, and, tumbling them on their back, pierced out the life of both. Their hides he placed on the hard rock; their flesh he cut up into twelve portions; and so Hermes hath the right of ordering all sacrifices which the children of men offer to the undying gods. But he ate not of the flesh or fat, although hunger sorely pressed him; and he burnt the bones in the fire, and tossed his tamarisk sandals into the swift stream of Alpheios. Then he quenched the fire, and with all his might trampled down the ashes, until the pale moon rose up again in the sky. So he sped on his way to Kyllene. Neither god nor man saw him as he went, nor did the dogs bark. Early in the morning he reached his mother's cave, and darted through the keyhole of the door, softly as a summer breeze. Without a sound his little feet paced the stony floor, till he reached his cradle and lay down, playing like a babe among the clothes with his left hand, while the right held the tortoise-lyre hidden underneath them.

But, wily as he was, he could not cheat his mother. To his cradle she came, and said, "Whither hast thou wandered in the dark night? Crafty rogue, mischief will be thy ruin. The son of Leto will soon be here, and bear thee away bound in chains not easily shaken off. Out of my sight, little wretch, born to worry the blessed gods and plague the race of men!" "Mother," said Hermes, gently, "why talk thus to me, as though I were like mortal babes, a poor cowering thing, to cry for a little scolding? I know thy interest and mine: why should we stay here in this wretched cave, with never a gift nor a feast to cheer our hearts? I shall not stay. It is pleasanter to banquet with the gods than to dwell in a cavern in draughts of whistling wind. I shall try my luck against Apollo, for I mean to be his peer; and if he will not suffer me, and if Zeus, my father, take not up my cause, I will see what I can do for myself, by going to the shrine of Pytho and stealing thence the tripods and caldrons, the iron vessels and glittering robes. If I may not have honor in Olympos, I can at least be the prince of thieves."

Meanwhile, as they talked together, Eos rose up from the deep ocean stream, and her tender light flushed across the sky, while Apollo hastened to Onchestos and the holy grove of Poseidon. There the old man was at work in his vineyard, and to him Phoebus went quickly, and said, "Friend hedger, I am come from Pieria looking for my cows. Fifty of them have been driven away, and the bull has been left behind with the four dogs who guarded them. Tell me, old man, hast thou seen any one with these cows, on the road?" But the old man said that it would be a hard matter to tell of all that he might chance to see. "Many travelers journey on this road, some with evil thoughts, some with good; I can not well remember all. This only I know, that yesterday, from the rising of the sun to its setting, I was digging in my vineyard, and I think, but I am not sure, that I saw a child with a herd of cattle. A babe he was, and he held a staff in his hand, and, as he went, he wandered strangely from the path on either side."

Then Phoebus stayed not to hear more, for now he knew of a surety that the new-born son of Zeus had done him the mischief. Wrapped in a purple mist, he hastened to beautiful Pylos, and came on the track of the cattle. "O Zeus!" he cried, "this is indeed a marvel. I see the footprints of cattle, but they are marked as though the cattle were going to the asphodel meadow, not away from it. Of man or woman, of wolf, bear, or lion, I spy not a single trace. Only here and there I behold the footprints of some strange monster, who has left his mark at random on either side of the road." So on he sped to the woody heights of Kyllene, and stood on the doorstep of Maia's cave. Straightway the child Hermes nestled under the cradle-clothes in fear, like a new-born babe asleep. But, seeing through all his craft, Phoebus looked steadily through all the cave and opened three secret places full of the food and drink of the gods, and full also of gold and silver and raiment; but not a cow was in any of them. At last he fixed his eyes sternly on the child, and said, "Wily babe, where are my cows? If thou wilt not tell me, there will be strife between us; and then I will hurl thee down to the gloomy Tartaros, to the land of darkness, whence neither thy father nor thy mother can bring thee back, and where thy kingdom shall be only over the ghosts of men." "Ah!" said Hermes, "these are dreadful words, indeed; but why dost thou chide me thus, or come here to look for cows? I have not seen or heard of them, nor has any one told me of them. I can not tell where they are, or get the reward, if any were promised, for discovering them. This is no work of mine; what do I care for but for sleeping and sucking, and playing with my cradle-clothes, and being washed in warm water? My friend, it will be much better that no one should hear of such a silly quarrel. The undying gods would laugh at the very thought of a little babe leaving its cradle to run after cows. I was born but yesterday. My feet are soft, and the ground is hard. But if it be any comfort to thee, I will swear by my father's head (and that is a very great oath) that I have not done this deed, nor seen any one else steal your cows, and that I do not know what cows are."

As he spoke he looked stealthily from one side to the other, while his eyes winked slyly, and he made a long soft whistling sound, as if the words of Phoebus had amused him mightily. "Well, friend," said Apollo, with a smile, "thou wilt break into many a house, I see, and thy followers after thee; and thy fancy for beef will set many a herdsman grieving. But come down from the cradle, or this sleep will be thy last. Only this honor can I promise thee, to be called the prince of thieves forever." So without more ado Phoebus caught up the babe in his arms; but Hermes gave so mighty a sneeze that he quickly let him fall, and Phoebus said to him, gravely, "This is the sign that I shall find my cows; show me, then, the way." In great fear Hermes started up and pulled the cradle-clothes over his ears, as he said, "Cruel god, what dost thou seek to do with me? Why worry me thus about cows? I would there were not a cow in all the earth. I stole them not, nor have I seen any one steal the cows, whatever things cows may be. I know nothing but their name. But come; Zeus must decide the quarrel between us."

Thus each with his own purpose spake to the other, and their minds grew all the darker, for Phoebus sought only to know where his cows might be, while Hermes strove only to cheat him. So they went quickly and sulkily on, the babe first, and Phoebus following after him, till they came to the heights of Olympos and the home of the mighty Zeus. There Zeus sat on the throne of judgment, and all the undying gods stood around him. Before them in the midst stood Phoebus and the child Hermes, and Zeus said, "Thou hast brought a fine booty after thy hunt to-day, Phoebus—a child of a day old. A fine matter is this to put before the gods."

"My father," said Apollo, quickly, "I have a tale to tell which will show that I am not the only plunderer. After a weary search I found this babe in the cave of Kyllene; and a thief he is such as I have never seen whether among gods or men. Yester eve he stole my cattle from the meadow, and drove them straight towards Pylos to the shore of the sounding sea. The tracks left were such that gods and men might well marvel at them. The footprints of the cows on the sand were as though they were going to my meadows, and not away from them; his own footmarks beggar all words, as if he had gone neither on his feet nor on his hands, and as if the oak tops had suddenly taken to walking. So was it on the sandy soil; and after this was passed, there remained no marks at all. But an old man saw him driving them on the road to Pylos. There he shut up the cattle at his leisure, and, going to his mother's cave, lay down in his cradle like a spark in a mass of cinders, which an eagle could scarcely spy out. When I taxed him with the theft he boldly denied it, and told me that he had not seen the cows or heard naught of them, and could not get the reward if one were offered for restoring them."

So the words of Phoebus were ended, and the child Hermes made obeisance to Zeus, the lord of all the gods, and said, "Father Zeus, I shall tell thee the truth, for I am a very truthful being, and I know not how to tell a lie. This morning, when the sun was but newly risen, Phoebus came to my mother's cave, looking for cows. He brought no witnesses; but urged me by force to confess; he threatened to hurl me into the abyss of Tartaros. Yet he has all the strength of early manhood, while I, as he knows, was born but yesterday, and am not in the least like a cattle-reiver. Believe me (by thy love for me, thy child) that I have not brought these cows home, or passed beyond my mother's threshold. This is strict truth. Nay, by Helios and the other gods, I swear that I love thee and have respect for Phoebus. Thou knowest that I am guiltless, and, if thou wilt, I will also swear it. But, spite of all his strength, I will avenge myself some day on Phoebus for his unkindness; and then help thou the weaker."

So spake Hermes, winking his eyes and holding the clothes to his shoulders; and Zeus laughed aloud at the wiliness of the babe, and bade Phoebus and the child be friends. Then he bowed his head and charged Hermes to show the spot where he had hidden the cattle, and the child obeyed, for none may despise that sign and live. To Pylos they hastened and to the broad stream of Alpheios, and from the fold Hermes drove forth the cattle. But as he stood apart, Apollo beheld the hides flung on the rock, and he asked Hermes, "How wast thou able, cunning rogue, to flay two cows, thou a child but one day old? I fear thy might in time to come, and I can not let thee live." Again he seized the child, and bound him fast with willow bands; but the child tore them from his body like flax, so that Phoebus marveled greatly. In vain Hermes sought a place wherein to hide himself, and great fear came upon him till he thought of his tortoise-lyre. With his bow he touched the strings, and the wave of song swelled out upon the air more full and sweet than ever. He sang of the undying gods and the dark earth, how it was made at the first, and how to each of the gods his own appointed portion was given, till the heart of Apollo was filled with a mighty longing, and he spake to Hermes, and said, "Cattle-reiver, wily rogue, thy song is worth fifty head of cattle. We will settle our strife by and by. Meanwhile, tell me, was this wondrous gift of song born with thee, or hast thou it as a gift from any god or mortal man? Never on Olympos, from those who can not die, have I heard such strains as these. They who hear thee may have what they will, be it mirth, or love, or sleep. Great is thy power, and great shall be thy renown, and by my cornel staff I swear that I will not stand in the way of thy honor or deceive thee in anywise."

Then said Hermes, "I grudge thee not my skill, son of Leto, for I seek but thy friendship. Yet thy gifts from Zeus are great. Thou knowest his mind, thou canst declare his will, and reveal what is stored up in time to come for undying gods or mortal men. This knowledge I fain would have. But my power of song shall this day be thine. Take my lyre, the soother of the wearied, the sweet companion in hours of sorrow or of feasting. To those who come skilled in its language, it can discourse sweetly of all things, and drive away all thoughts that annoy and cares that vex the soul. To those who touch it, not knowing how to draw forth its speech, it will babble strange nonsense, and rave with uncertain moanings. But thy knowledge is born with thee, and so my lyre is thine. Wherefore now let us feed the herds together, and with our care they shall thrive and multiply. There is no more cause for anger."

So saying the babe held out the lyre, and Phoebus Apollo took it. In his turn he gave to the child Hermes a glittering scourge, with charge over his flocks and herds. Then, touching the chords of the lyre, he filled the air with sweet music, and they both took their way to Olympos, and Zeus was glad at heart to see that the wrath of Apollo had passed away. But Phoebus dreaded yet the wiles of Hermes, and said, "I fear me much, child of Maia, that in time to come thou mayest steal both my harp and my bow, and take away my honor among men. Come now, and swear to me by the dark water of Styx that thou wilt never do me wrong." Then Hermes bowed his head, and swore never to steal anything from Apollo, and never to lay hands on his holy shrine; and Phoebus swore that of all the undying gods there should be none so dear to him as Hermes. "And of this love," he said, "I will give thee a pledge. My golden rod shall guard thee, and teach thee all that Zeus may say to me for the well or ill-doing of gods or men. But the higher knowledge for which thou didst pray may not be thine; for that is hidden in the mind of Zeus, and I have sworn a great oath that none shall learn it from me. But the man who comes to me with true signs, I will never deceive; and he who puts trust in false omens and then comes to inquire at my shrine, shall be answered according to his folly, but his offering shall go into my treasure-house. Yet further, son of Maia, in the clefts of Parnassos far away dwell the winged Thriai, who taught me long ago the secret things of times to come. Go thou, then, to the three sisters, and thus shalt thou test them. If they have eaten of the honeycomb before they speak, they will answer thee truly; but if they lack the sweet food of the gods, they will seek to lead astray those who come to them. These I give thee for thy counselors; only follow them warily; and have thou dominion over all flocks and herds, and over all living things that feed on the wide earth; and be thou the guide to lead the souls of mortal men to the dark kingdom of Hades."

So was the love of Apollo for Hermes made sure; and Hermes hath his place amongst all the deathless gods and dying men. Nevertheless, the sons of men have from him no great gain, for all night long he vexes them with his treacherous wiles.

THE SORROW OF DEMETER.

In the fields of Enna, in the happy Island of Sicily, the beautiful Persephone was playing with the girls who lived there with her. She was the daughter of the lady Demeter, and every one loved them both, for Demeter was good and kind to all, and no one could be more gentle and merry than Persephone. She and her companions were gathering flowers from the field, to make crowns for their long flowing hair. They had picked many roses and lilies and hyacinths, which grew in clusters around them, when Persephone thought she saw a splendid flower far off; and away she ran, as fast as she could, to get it. It was a beautiful narcissus, with a hundred heads springing from one stem; and the perfume which came from its flowers gladdened the broad heaven above, and the earth and sea around it. Eagerly Persephone stretched out her hand to take this splendid prize, when the earth opened, and a chariot stood before her, drawn by four coal-black horses; and in the chariot there was a man with a dark and solemn face, which looked as though he could never smile, and as though he had never been happy. In a moment he got out of his chariot, seized Persephone round the waist, and put her on the seat by his side. Then he touched the horses with his whip, and they drew the chariot down into the great gulf, and the earth closed over them again.

Presently the girls who had been playing with Persephone came up to the place where the beautiful narcissus was growing; but they could not see her anywhere. And they said, "Here is the very flower which she ran to pick, and there is no place here where she can be hiding." Still for a long time they searched through the fields of Enna; and when the evening was come they went home to tell the lady Demeter that they could not tell what had become of Persephone.

Very terrible was the sorrow of Demeter when she was told that her child was lost. She put a dark robe on her shoulders, and took a flaming torch in her hand, and went over land and sea to look for Persephone. But no one could tell her where she was gone. When ten days were passed she met Hekate, and asked her about her child; but Hekate said, "I heard her voice, as she cried out when some one seized her; but I did not see it with my eyes, and so I know not where she is gone." Then she went to Helios, and said to him, "O Helios, tell me about my child. Thou seest everything on the earth, sitting in the bright sun." Then Helios said to Demeter, "I pity thee for thy great sorrow, and I will tell thee the truth. It is Hades who has taken away Persephone to be his wife in the dark and gloomy land which lies beneath the earth."



Then the rage of Demeter was more terrible than her sorrow had been; and she would not stay in the palace of Zeus, on the great Thessalian hill, because it was Zeus who had allowed Hades to take away Persephone. So she went down from Olympos, and wandered on a long way until she came to Eleusis, just as the sun was going down into his golden cup behind the dark blue hills. There Demeter sat down close to a fountain, where the water bubbled out from the green turf and fell into a clear basin, over which some dark olive trees spread their branches. Just then the daughters of Keleos, the king of Eleusis, came to the fountain with pitchers on their heads to draw water; and when they saw Demeter, they knew from her face that she must have some great grief; and they spoke kindly to her, and asked if they could do anything to help her. Then she told them how she had lost and was searching for her child; and they said, "Come home and live with us; and our father and mother will give you everything that you can want, and do all that they can to soothe your sorrow." So Demeter went down to the house of Keleos, and she stayed there for a whole year. And all this time, although the daughters of Keleos were very gentle and kind to her, she went on mourning and weeping for Persephone. She never laughed or smiled, and scarcely ever did she speak to any one, because of her great grief. And even the earth, and the things which grow on the earth, mourned for the sorrow which had come upon Demeter. There was no fruit upon the trees, no corn came up in the fields, and no flowers blossomed in the gardens. And Zeus looked down from his high Thessalian hill, and saw that everything must die unless he could soothe the grief and anger of Demeter. So he sent Hermes down to Hades, the dark and stern king, to bid him send Persephone to see her mother, Demeter. But before Hades let her go he gave her a pomegranate to eat, because he did not wish her to stay away from him always, and he knew that she must come back if she tasted but one of his pomegranate seeds. Then the great chariot was brought before the door of the palace, and Hermes touched with his whip the coal-black horses, and away they went as swiftly as the wind, until they came close to Eleusis. Then Hermes left Persephone, and the coal-black horses drew the chariot away again to the dark home of King Hades.

The sun was sinking down in the sky when Hermes left Persephone, and as she came near to the fountain she saw some one sitting near it in a long black robe, and she knew that it must be her mother who still wept and mourned for her child. And as Demeter heard the rustling of her dress, she lifted up her face, and Persephone stood before her.

Then the joy of Demeter was greater, as she clasped her daughter to her breast, than her grief and her sorrow had been. Again and again she held Persephone in her arms, and asked her about all that had happened to her. And she said, "Now that you are come back to me, I shall never let you go away again; Hades shall not have my child to live with him in his dreary kingdom," But Persephone said, "It may not be so, my mother; I can not stay with you always; for before Hermes brought me away to see you, Hades gave me a pomegranate, and I have eaten some of the seeds; and after tasting the seed I must go back to him again when six months have passed by. And, indeed, I am not afraid to go, for although Hades never smiles or laughs, and everything in his palace is dark and gloomy, still he is very kind to me, and I think that he feels almost happy since I have been his wife. But do not be sorry, my mother, for he has promised to let me come up and stay with you for six months in every year, and the other six months I must spend with him in the land which lies beneath the earth."

So Demeter was comforted for her daughter Persephone, and the earth and all the things that grew in it felt that her anger and sorrow had passed away. Once more the trees bore their fruits, the flowers spread out their sweet blossoms in the garden, and the golden corn waved like the sea under the soft summer breeze. So the six months passed happily away, and then Hermes came with his coal-black horses to take Persephone to the dark land. And she said to her mother, "Do not weep much; the gloomy king whose wife I am is so kind to me that I can not be really unhappy, and in six months more he will let me come to you again." But still, whenever the time came round for Persephone to go back to Hades, Demeter thought of the happy days when her child was a merry girl playing with her companions and gathering the bright flowers in the beautiful plains of Enna.

THE SLEEP OF ENDYMION.

One beautiful evening, when the sun was sinking down in the West, Selene was wandering on the banks of the River Meander; and she thought that of all the places which she had ever seen there was none more lovely than the quiet valley through which that gentle river was flowing. On her right hand rose a hill, whose sides were covered with trees and flowers, where the vine clambered over the elm, and the purple grapes shone out from amongst the dark leaves. Then Selene asked some people who were passing by to tell her the name of the hill, and they told her that it was called the hill of Latmos. On she went, under the tall trees, whose branches waved over her in the clear evening light, till at last she reached the top, and looked down on the valley which lay beneath her. Then Selene was indeed astonished, for she had never seen anything so beautiful before, even in a dream. She had fancied that nothing could be more lovely than the vale of the Meander, and now she saw something far more beautiful than the rocks and stones and clear bright water of that winding river. It was a small valley, at the bottom of which a lake shone like silver in the light of the setting sun. All around it beautiful trees covered the sloping banks; and their long branches drooped down over the water. Not a breath of wind was stirring the dark leaves—not a bird was flying in the air. Only the large green dragon-fly floated lazily on the lake, while the swan lay half asleep on the silvery waters. On one side, in the loveliest corner of the valley, there was a marble temple, whose pillars shone like the white snow; and, leading down to the lake, there were steps of marble, over which the palm trees spread their branches, and everywhere were clusters of all beautiful flowers, amongst which mosses, and ferns, and the green ivy were tangled. There was the white narcissus and the purple tulip—the dark hyacinth and the soft red rose. But more beautiful than all the trees and flowers, a man lay sleeping on the marble steps of the temple. It was Endymion, who lived in this quiet valley, where the storms never came, and where the dark rain-clouds never covered the sides of the mountain. There he lay in the still evening hour; and at first Selene thought that it could scarcely be a living man whom she saw, for he lay as still as if he were made of marble himself. And as she looked upon him, Selene drew in her breath for wonder; and she went gently down the valley till she came to the steps where Endymion lay asleep. Presently the sun sank behind the hill, and the rich glow of the evening made the silvery lake gleam like gold; and Endymion awoke and saw Selene standing near him. Then Selene said, "I am wandering over the earth; and I may not stay here. Come away, and I will show you larger lakes and more glorious valleys than these." But Endymion said, "Lady, I can not go. There may be lakes which are larger, and valleys more splendid than this, but I love this still and quiet place, where the storms never come, and the sky is never black with clouds. You must not ask me to leave the cool shade of these sleeping trees, and the myrtles and roses which twine under the tall elms, and these waters, where the swans rest in the hot hours of the day and the dragon-fly spreads his green and golden wings to the sun."



Many times did Selene ask him, but Endymion would not leave his pleasant home; and at last she said, "I can stay no more, but if you will not come with me, then you shall sleep on these marble steps and never wake up again." So Selene left him, and presently a deep sleep came over Endymion, and his hands dropped down by his side, and he lay without moving on the steps of the temple, while the evening breeze began to stir gently the broad leaves of the palm trees, and the lilies which bowed their heads over the calm water. There he lay all through the still and happy night; and there he lay when the sun rose up from the sea, and mounted up with its fiery horses into the sky. There was a charm now on this beautiful valley, which made the breeze more gentle and the lake more still than ever. The green dragon-flies came floating lazily in the air near Endymion, but he never opened his eyes; and the swans looked up from the lake, to see if he was coming to feed them; but he stirred not in his deep and dreamless sleep. There he lay day and night, for weeks, and months, and years; and many times, when the sun went down into the sea, Selene came and stood on the Latmian hill, and watched Endymion as he lay asleep on the marble steps beneath the drooping palm trees; and she said, "I have punished him because he would not leave his home; and Endymion sleeps forever in the land of Latmos."

PHAETHON.

In the golden house which Hephaistos had wrought for him with his wondrous skill, Helios saw nothing fairer than his son Phaethon; and he said to his mother, Klymene, that no mortal child might be matched with him for beauty. And Phaethon heard the words, and his heart was filled with an evil pride. So he stood before the throne of Helios, and said, "O father, who dwellest in the dazzling light, they say that I am thy child; but how shall I know it while I live in thy house without name and glory? Give me a token, that men may know me to be thy son." Then Helios bade him speak, and swear to grant his prayer; and Phaethon said, "I will guide thy chariot for one day through the high heaven; bid the Horai make ready the horses for me, when Eos spreads her quivering light in the sky." But the heart of Helios was filled with fear, and he besought his son with many tears to call back his words. "O Phaethon, bright child of Klymene, for all thy beauty thou art mortal still; and the horses of Helios obey no earthly master." But Phaethon harkened not to his words, and hastened away to the dwelling of the Horai, who guard the fiery horses. "Make ready for me," he said, "the chariot of Helios, for this day I go through the high heaven in the stead of my father."

The fair-haired Eos spread her faint light in the pale sky, and Lampetie was driving the cattle of Helios to their bright pastures, when the Horai brought forth his horses and harnessed them to the fiery chariot. With eager hand Phaethon seized the reins, and the horses sped upon their way up the heights of the blue heaven, until the heart of Phaethon was full of fear and the reins quivered in his grasp. Wildly and more madly sped the steeds, till at last they hurried from the track which led to the Hesperian land. Down from their path they plunged, and drew near to the broad plains of earth. Fiercer and fiercer flashed the scorching flames; the trees bowed down their withered heads; the green grass shriveled on the hillsides; the rivers vanished from their slimy beds, and the black vapors rose with smoke and fire from the hidden depths of the mighty hills. Then in every land the sons of men lay dying on the scorched and gaping ground. They looked up to the yellow sky, but the clouds came not; they sought the rivers and fountains, but no water glistened on their seething beds; and young and old, all lay down in madness of heart to sleep the sleep of death.

So sped the horses of Helios on their fiery wanderings, and Zeus looked down from his Thessalian hill and saw that all living things on the earth must die unless Phaethon should be smitten down from his father's chariot. Then the mighty thunders woke in the hot sky which mourned for the clouds that were dead; and the streams of lightning rushed forth upon Phaethon, and bore him from the blazing heaven far down beneath the waters of the green sea.

But his sisters wept sore for the death of the bright Phaethon, and the daughters of Hesperos built his tomb on the sea-shore, that all men might remember the name of the son of Helios and say, "Phaethon fell from his father's chariot, but he lost not his glory, for his heart was set upon great things."

BRIAREOS.

There was strife in the halls of Olympos, for Zeus had conquered the ancient gods, and sat on the throne of his father Kronos. In his hand he held the thunderbolts; the lightning slumbered at his feet, and around him all the gods trembled for the greatness of his power. For he laid hard tasks on all, and spoke hard words, and he thought to rule harshly over the gods who dwell on the earth and in the broad sea. All the day long Hermes toiled on weary errands to do his will; for Zeus sought to crush all alike, and remembered not the time when he, too, was weak and powerless.



Then were there secret whisperings, as the gods of earth and sea took counsel together; and Poseidon, the lord of the dark waters, spoke in fierce anger, and said, "Hearken to me, Here and Athene, and let us rise up against Zeus, and teach him that he has not power over all. See how he bears himself in his new majesty—how he thinks not of the aid which we gave him in the war with his father Kronos—how he has smitten down even the mightiest of his friends. For Prometheus, who gave fire to mortal men and saved them from biting cold and gnawing hunger, lies chained on the crags of Caucasus; and if he shrink not to bind the Titan, see that he smite not thee also in his wrath, O lady Here." And Athene said, "The wisdom of Zeus is departed from him, and all his deeds are done now in craft and falsehood; let us bind him fast, lest all the heaven and earth be filled with strife and war." So they vowed a vow that they would no more bear the tyranny of Zeus; and Hephaistos forged strong chains at their bidding to cast around him when sleep lay heavy on his eyelids.