appear upon the windowpanes, the birds fly southward, and no one
remains in the kingdom of the north wind but the Diver. This brave
Diver cares not for the cold or for the stormy north wind. He sits in
his wigwam, merry and warm; for he has four great logs for his fire,
and each log will last a month. Kabibonokka enters the wigwam, but
cannot stand the heat, and so taunts the Diver and dares him to a
combat in the open air. Long they fight; but at length the Diver
conquers, and the cold and fierce Kabibonokka is driven back into his
kingdom of the north.
The Diver is the glorious sun, who, with his warm golden beams, beats
back the cold, and brings the pleasant summer with the birds and
flowers.
"But the fierce Kabibonokka
Had his dwelling among icebergs,
In the everlasting snowdrifts,
In the kingdom of Wabasso,
In the land of the White Rabbit.
He it was whose hand in Autumn
Painted all the trees with scarlet,
Stained the leaves with red and yellow;
He it was who sent the snowflakes,
Sifting, hissing, through the forest,
Froze the ponds, the lakes, the rivers,
Drove the loon and sea gull southward,
Drove the cormorant and curlew
To their nests of sedge and sea tang
In the realms of Shawondasee."
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
WHAT THE WINDS BRING.
Which is the wind that brings the cold?
The north wind, Freddy, and all the snow;
And the sheep will scamper into the fold
When the north begins to blow.
Which is the wind that brings the heat?
The south wind, Katy; and corn will grow,
And peaches redden for you to eat,
When the south begins to blow.
Which is the wind that brings the rain?
The east wind, Arty; and farmers know
That cows come shivering up the lane,
When the east begins to blow.
Which is the wind that brings the flowers?
The west wind, Bessy; and soft and low
The birdies sing in the summer hours,
When the west begins to blow.
--Edmund Clarence Stedman.
[Illustration: Iris.
Guy Head (_Rome_).]
IRIS.
The Greeks lived much in the open air, and they loved to watch the
fleecy clouds float lazily across the blue heavens, or at night to see
the bright, golden stars shine down upon them like friendly eyes. They
believed that Juno was goddess of the heavens when they were calm and
peaceful, as Jupiter was god of the storm cloud and of the
thunderbolt.
Whenever they saw the radiant rainbow, they said, "There is the
glowing Iris, the messenger of Juno, carrying some message from the
sky to the earth." They thought that Iris had shining wings of various
colors, and that while she stayed upon earth, you could see her path
in the heavens marked by the many-colored rainbow.
THE RAINBOW.
My heart looks up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky.
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old
Or let me die!
The child is father of the man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
--William Wordsworth.
RAINBOW STORIES.
The Indians had a lovely thought about the rainbow,--perhaps more
beautiful than the belief of the Greeks.
You know how sweet and beautiful the flowers are, how we love the
roses, the lilies, the pansies, and the golden-rod, and how sorry we
are to have them leave us when the cold winds blow.
The Indians also loved the flowers; and they fancied, when they saw
such lovely colors in the rainbow which spans the heavens, that all
the wild flowers--the lilies, the buttercups, and windflowers, the
dainty violets and the moss of the woods--were still living and
blossoming in the heavens.
Our poet Longfellow has told us about this myth in his "Song of
Hiawatha." The little Hiawatha
"Saw the rainbow in the heaven,
In the eastern sky, the rainbow,
Whispered, 'What is that, Nokomis?'
And the good Nokomis answered:
''Tis the heaven of flowers you see there;
All the wild flowers of the forest,
All the lilies of the prairie,
When on earth they fade and perish,
Blossom in that heaven above us.'"
In the Old Testament we are told that many, many years ago there was a
great flood. It had rained for forty days and forty nights, when
suddenly the rain ceased, and a beautiful rainbow was seen by the
people on the earth. How glad they were to see it! For they knew it
was God's promise not to send another flood, and they were happy in
this thought.
"And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I
may remember the everlasting covenant."
THE RAINBOW FAIRIES.
Two little clouds one summer's day
Went flying through the sky.
They went so fast they bumped their heads,
And both began to cry.
Old Father Sun looked out and said,
"O, never mind, my dears,
I'll send my little fairy folk
To dry your falling tears."
One fairy came in violet,
And one in indigo,
In blue, green, yellow, orange, red,--
They made a pretty row.
They wiped the cloud tears all away,
And then, from out the sky,
Upon a line the sunbeams made
They hung their gowns to dry.
--Lizzie M. Hadley.
NARCISSUS.
Narcissus was a vain youth, and loved no one but himself. One day,
while looking into a quiet stream, he thought he saw a lovely naiad in
the water gazing up at him.
He smiled upon her, and she also smiled. Day after day he came to the
bank and begged the lovely naiad to come out of the water, and roam
with him through the flowery meadows of earth. Every day he believed
she would come; for she seemed to smile upon him and welcome him, even
as he spoke and smiled upon her.
Some days, when the waters were dark and ruffled by the wind, he could
not see her blue eyes and golden ringlets, and he thought she was
vexed with him.
He never knew it was his own face he saw reflected in the water, and
at last, after weary watching and waiting, he pined away and died.
Echo and all the nymphs of the stream and of the grove mourned for
him. He was beautiful even in death, for the gods had changed him into
a flower. His pale face and golden hair were changed into the delicate
narcissus, which delights us with its graceful form and rare
fragrance.
The narcissus grows upon the margin of streams, and, bending over the
waters, seems to admire its image mirrored there.
[Illustration: The Brook.]
THE BROOK.
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.
I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling.
And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery water break
Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river;
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots,
That grow for happy lovers.
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.
And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river;
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
--Alfred Tennyson.
ECHO AND NARCISSUS.
Diana had many young and lovely nymphs, who attended her in her
rambles over the wooded hills. Among these maids was Echo, a very
graceful and merry nymph of the mountain. Echo had one serious fault,
however. She was too fond of talking, and was always anxious to say
the last word.
One day she angered Juno, with whom she was talking, and the goddess
punished her severely. She said,--"Echo, this shall be your punishment
for trying to deceive me. You may still have the last word as you are
so fond of it, but never the first. You shall not have the power to
begin the conversation; you may only reply."
Soon after this Echo met Narcissus, a handsome youth who was hunting
upon the mountain. She admired his grace and skill in the hunt and
wished very much to join in the chase. But she could not speak to him,
and when he called to his companions she could only repeat the last
words. Narcissus did not care to please the nymph, and so refused to
speak with her or to allow her to join in the hunt.
[Illustration: Echo.
Copyright, 1893, by Photographische Gesellschaft.]
After Narcissus left the mountain, Echo sought a lonely cave amid the
rocks; and she grieved so over her punishment, that she pined away
until nothing was left of the lovely nymph but her voice. Sometimes,
in the lonely mountain paths, if you call, you will hear Echo
repeating your words softly from a distance. But you will never see
her; she is nothing but a voice.
BLUE.
Blue! 'Tis the life of heaven,--the domain
Of Cynthia,--the wide palace of the sun,--
The tent of Hesperus, and all his train,--
The bosomer of clouds, gold, gray, and dun.
Blue! 'Tis the life of waters--ocean
And all its vassal streams; pools numberless
May range, and foam, and fret, but never can
Subside, if not to dark-blue nativeness.
Blue! Gentle cousin of the forest green,
Married to green in all the sweetest flowers--
Forget-me-not, the bluebell, and that queen
Of secrecy, the violet: what strange powers
Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great
When in an eye thou art alive with fate!
--John Keats.
[Illustration: The Parthenon.
_Athens._]
MINERVA.
The wonderful goddess Minerva is said to have come full-grown from the
brain of her father, Jupiter, king of the gods. She is tall, and clad
in full armor. Her name Minerva means "mind." She is called the
goddess of wisdom, and she took the throne which the stupid goddess
Dullness had held before. Unlike Mars, Minerva does not love war, but
she is very brave when compelled to fight.
A city in Greece was to be named, and Neptune and Minerva contended
for the honor. The gods decided that the one who produced the article
most valuable to man should name the city.
Neptune struck the ground with his trident, and there sprang forth a
horse, strong and noble. All admired Neptune's gift, and did not
believe that Minerva could surpass him.
When Minerva produced the olive tree, they laughed, and all thought
that Neptune had won. But the goddess told them that the olive tree
could furnish wood for fire, for building houses, and for making many
useful articles; that food and oil could be obtained from it; and that
even clothing could be made from its fiber.
The gods then said that, while men could live without horses, they
could not live without food, warmth, and shelter, and Minerva had the
honor of naming the city.
Minerva was called Pallas Athene by the Greeks, and so the city in
Greece was named Athens. In this city was erected a beautiful temple
in her honor, called the Parthenon. Its ruins are still standing.
In this temple was a magnificent statue of Minerva, made by the great
sculptor Phidias. It was of ivory and gold. The goddess wears a long
cloak and a helmet, and carries a shield and spear. At her feet is
coiled a serpent, the emblem of wisdom. Minerva has clear blue eyes,
is always calm and dignified, and helps all those who wish to excel in
wisdom, or to obtain skill in the arts of peace.
MINERVA AND ARACHNE.
Arachne was a young girl who was famous for her skill in embroidery
and weaving. All the women of Greece knew that she excelled in this
feminine work, and they liked to see her with her loom or needle. Even
the nymphs, who love to sport about the fountains and in the groves,
would leave their play to watch her.
It was pleasant to see her deftly separate the wool, and card it until
it was soft and fleecy as down. Then dexterously twirling the spindle,
she wove the web so quickly and easily that one watched her fingers
with delight. Under her skillful touch, the trees in her tapestry
seemed to bend before the gentle breeze, and the flowers were so
perfect that they were as beautiful as those growing in the gardens.
"Minerva, the goddess of weaving, must be her teacher," said all who
saw her wonderful work.
But this did not please Arachne, who was vain and proud. "I am my own
teacher," she said, with a saucy toss of her pretty head, "and Minerva
herself cannot compete with me."
This proud boast Minerva heard. The gods do not like such boasting,
and Minerva determined to correct her or to punish her. She changed
her form, and appeared before Arachne as a wise old woman.
[Illustration: Minerva.
_Vatican, Rome._]
"My child," she said, "do not challenge a goddess. Your work is
beautiful and deserves praise, but Minerva's skill is that of a
goddess. You are a mortal, and you should ask forgiveness of Minerva
for your rash speech."
Arachne was angry at these wise words, and replied: "I do not wish
your advice. I do not fear the goddess, and do not ask her
forgiveness. If she is not afraid, let her come, and we will compare
our work."
Lo! as she spoke, Minerva dropped her disguise, and stood revealed--a
goddess. All around were amazed, and trembled before the glorious
Minerva, except the angry Arachne.
Her friends tried to influence her to give up the contest, and to ask
Minerva to forgive her irreverent words. But Arachne still thought she
could excel the goddess in weaving, and, as Minerva said no more, the
contest began.
Each took her place. Wools of different dyes were given them. Both
worked with speed, and the slender shuttle seemed to fly under their
fingers.
Arachne showed Leda and the swan, and Europa and the bull, with such
fidelity to nature that they seemed to move and breathe. But the
goddess showed her contest with Neptune. Twelve of the great gods were
represented. Neptune with his trident had just produced the horse,
that animal so strong and so useful to man. Minerva stood with her
helmet and shield, showing her gift to man--the olive tree.
All the beholders saw that Minerva had surpassed Arachne, and felt
that the proud girl must be punished for her pride and impiety.
Minerva, more in pity than in anger, touched Arachne's forehead and
said, "Live, guilty woman, and thus shall you preserve the memory of
this lesson to all future times."
Speaking thus, the goddess changed the hapless Arachne into a spider.
If you look at a spider's web, you will see that the descendants of
Arachne still show great patience and skill, and spin wonderful webs.
MINERVA'S WEAVING.
She made the story of the old debate
Which she with Neptune did for Athens try:
Twelve gods do sit around in royal state,
And Jove in midst with awful majesty,
To judge the strife between them stirréd late;
Each of the gods, by his like visnomy
Is to be known, but Jove above them all,
By his great looks and power imperial.
Before them stands the god of seas in place,
Claiming that seacoast city as his right;
And strikes the rocks with his three-forkéd mace;
Whenceforth issues a warlike steed in sight,
The sign by which he challengeth the place;
That all the gods, which saw his wondrous might,
Did surely deem the victory his due;
But seldom seen, forejudgment proveth true.
Then to herself she gives her Ægide shield,
And steel-head spear, and morion on her head
Such as she oft is seen in warlike field:
Then sets she forth, how with her weapon dread
She smote the ground, the which straightforth did yield
A fruitful olive tree, with berries spread,
That all the gods admired: then, all the story
She compassed with a wreath of olives hoary.
Amongst these leaves she made a butterfly,
With excellent device and wondrous slight,
Flutt'ring among the olives wantonly,
That seemed to live, so like it was in sight:
The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie,
The silken down with which his back is dight,
His broad outstretchéd horns, his hairy thighs,
His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes.
--Edmund Spenser.
[Illustration: Minerva, Prometheus, and Man.
A. B. Thorwaldsen.]
PROMETHEUS.
The gods told the wise Prometheus to bestow gifts upon all the animals
of the earth, according to their need. So to the deer he gave
swiftness; to the lion, courage; to the horse, strength; to the eagle,
strong pinions; to the ox, patience; to the dog, keenness of scent;
and to the nightingale, a melodious voice.
After the animals had all received special gifts, the gods told
Prometheus to make man to rule over them. Prometheus made man after
the image of the gods, but smaller and weaker, and Minerva gave to him
mind and soul. Prometheus loved the man he had made, but as he had
already bestowed all the gifts he had upon the animals, for a long
time he could not think of a way in which to give man power over them.
At last he decided that he must obtain for man the gift of fire.
But how could he get this wonderful element? He knew that Jupiter
would never grant it; for fire belonged to Apollo, the god of the sun,
and punishment would be inflicted upon any one who attempted to obtain
it by stealth or by force. Yet his love for man prevailed over his
fear and by night he approached the chariot wheels of the sun and
stole some fire, bringing it to earth in a hollow tube. With this
power, man conquers the cold, makes the minerals plastic, forces his
way through mountains, and crosses deep seas.
When Jupiter discovered that Prometheus had bestowed this great gift
on man, he punished him very severely; but Prometheus endured the
punishment bravely, conscious that man would always profit by his
daring. Prometheus has always been called the friend of man, and many
poets have written in his honor.
HOME THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD.
Oh, to be in England
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England--now!
And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossomed pear tree in the hedge
Leans to the field, and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops at the bent spray's edge--
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
That first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower
Far brighter than this gaudy melon flower!
--Robert Browning.
ADONIS.
Adonis was a youth of wonderful beauty. Tall and lithe and graceful,
he seemed like a young god, although he was but a mortal. He was fond
of hunting, and day after day found him roaming over the hills and
through the forests with his bow and arrows. His step was light and
bounding, and he seemed to belong to the life of the hills as much as
the trees and flowers.
Tired with the hunt, he would throw himself upon the leafy turf and
look up through the great branches of the trees to the azure skies.
It seemed to him that he could understand what the leaves were saying,
as they rustled in the breeze. The clouds made him think of
white-sailed boats floating on a blue sea, and he wished that he could
sail with them to the home of the god of the golden sun. The grass
seemed to whisper to him and tell him the secrets of the earth mother,
and the streams leaping down the mountain sides seemed to laugh
joyously and to call upon him to follow.
Adonis did not care for city life; the woods held all of beauty for
him. And he was not at all surprised, one day, when he saw Venus
coming towards him, her beauty radiant in the sunlight. She seemed to
him to be at home in the woods he loved so well.
Venus loved Adonis, and they went hunting together. Adonis was bold,
and wished to chase the larger game; but Venus warned him against the
fierce wild boars and the wolves. When Venus was with Adonis, he
listened to her advice. But in her absence, one day, he pursued a wild
boar. His arrow struck the boar and angered him. Fiercely the animal
sprang upon the youthful hunter, and thrust his tusks through his
side, and Adonis sank in death.
Venus grieved for his death. "Alas!" she cried, "why did you hunt the
cruel beasts which care not for youth or grace or beauty? Long shall I
lament your untimely death, Adonis. From your blood a flower shall
spring to keep your memory upon the earth, and people shall say, 'This
is the flower of Adonis.'" At that moment blossomed the tender
anemone, the windflower, which every spring adorns the warm hillsides.
This myth has almost the same meaning as the myth of Ceres and
Persephone. When the youthful Adonis, the springtime of the year, is
hunting over the hills and valleys, Venus, the cherishing mother, is
glad and happy in his presence, and all the earth is filled with
flower and fruit.
But before the tusk of the wild boar, the cruel and frosty winter,
Adonis is slain; and Venus grieves, as Ceres laments when Persephone
is in the kingdom of Pluto.
ORIGIN OF THE OPAL.
A dewdrop came, with a spark of flame
He had caught from the sun's last ray,
To a violet's breast, where he lay at rest
Till the hours brought back the day.
The rose looked down, with a blush and frown;
But she smiled all at once, to view
Her own bright form, with its coloring warm,
Reflected back by the dew.
Then the stranger took a stolen look
At the sky, so soft and blue;
And a leaflet green with its silver sheen,
Was seen by the idler too.
A cold north wind, as he thus reclined,
Of a sudden raged around;
And a maiden fair, who was walking there,
Next morning, an opal found.
THE APPLES OF THE HESPERIDES.
Far away in the west was a beautiful land that belonged to King
Hesperus. This king had three lovely daughters who cared for the
fruits and flowers of the gardens. In the gardens were many graceful
trees whose boughs bent under the weight of delicious fruit. Flowers
red, yellow, and orange adorned the walks.
When Juno, goddess of the sky, married Jupiter, her sister Ceres gave
her a handsome present. Ceres is the earth goddess who cultivates the
fruits, flowers, and grains, and the best gift she could bestow upon
her sister was some golden apples.
Juno prized these apples highly, and gave them to the Hesperides, the
daughters of Hesperus. They placed them upon the shadiest tree of the
garden, and watched and cared for them very carefully.
Once they were taken away by Hercules, the strong hero who performed
many wonderful labors, but they were afterwards restored to the
careful hands of the maidens.
Many heroes heard of the beautiful land, Hesperia, and of the
wonderful apples growing there, and sailed westward to find them. Some
people think that the golden apples were really the oranges of Spain,
a rich and famous country west of Greece.
[Illustration: Juno.
_National Museum, Naples._]
CLEON AND I.
Cleon hath ten thousand acres,
Ne'er a one have I;
Cleon dwelleth in a palace.
In a cottage I;
Cleon hath a dozen fortunes,
Not a penny I:
Yet the poorer of the twain is
Cleon, and not I.
Cleon is a slave to grandeur,
Free as thought am I;
Cleon fees a score of doctors,
Need of none have I;
Wealth surrounded, care environed,
Cleon fears to die;
Death may come--he'll find me ready,
Happier man am I.
Cleon sees no charms in Nature,
In a daisy I;
Cleon hears no anthems ringing
'Twixt the sea and sky;
Nature sings to me forever,
Earnest listener I:
State for state, with all attendants--
Who would change? Not I.
--Charles Mackay.
PANDORA.
Vulcan was always trying his skill, and he made many wonderful and
beautiful things. One day he invited the gods to see his latest
creation. Here stood a beautiful figure, resembling Venus in beauty.
The gods were delighted with his work, and decided each to bestow upon
the woman some excellent gift.
Minerva gave skill in handicraft, Mercury gave wit in conversation,
Venus the power to please, the Graces added charm to her beauty, and
Jupiter at last gave life and immortality. Because of these many
gifts, she was named Pandora, a Greek word meaning "all gifts."
The gods sent Pandora to Prometheus and Epimetheus, the brothers who
loved mankind. Prometheus would not receive the lovely maiden, for he
knew the gods did not love him and he feared their gifts. But
Epimetheus welcomed her to his home.
For some time they lived happily, but trouble came to them because of
Pandora's curiosity. In the palace of Epimetheus was a quaintly carved
box. Pandora had wondered what was in it, for Epimetheus did not know.
"The winged messenger brought it," he told her, "and said that it
contained a secret of the immortal gods. We must not open it, dear
Pandora, for mortals should not know the secrets of the immortals."