‘By the guidance of some one of the immortals hast thou come hither,
stranger, for verily all that thou requirest hath quickly been fulfilled.
For hither hath come Augeas, the dear son of Helios, with his own son,
the strong and princely Phyleus. But yesterday he came hither from the
city, to be overseeing after many days his substance, that he hath
uncounted in the fields. Thus do even kings in their inmost hearts
believe that the eye of the master makes the house more prosperous. Nay
come, let us hasten to him, and I will lead thee to our dwelling, where
methinks we shall find the king.’
So he spake, and began to lead the way, but in his mind, as he marked the
lion’s hide, and the club that filled the stranger’s fist, the old man
was deeply pondering as to whence he came, and ever he was eager to
inquire of him. But back again he kept catching the word as it rose to
his lips, in fear lest he should speak somewhat out of season (his
companion being in haste) for hard it is to know another’s mood.
Now as they began to draw nigh, the dogs from afar were instantly aware
of them, both by the scent, and by the sound of footsteps, and, yelling
furiously, they charged from all sides against Heracles, son of
Amphitryon, while with faint yelping, on the other side, they greeted the
old man, and fawned around him. But he just lifted stones from the
ground, {135} and scared them away, and, raising his voice, he right
roughly chid them all, and made them cease from their yelping, being glad
in his heart withal for that they guarded his dwelling, even when he was
afar. Then thus he spake—
‘Lo, what a comrade for men have the Gods, the lords of all, made in this
creature, how mindful is he! If he had but so much wit within him as to
know against whom he should rage, and with whom he should forbear, no
beast in the world could vie with his deserts. But now he is something
over-fierce and blindly furious.’
So he spake, and they hastened, and came even to that dwelling whither
they were faring.
Now Helios had turned his steeds to the west, bringing the late day, and
the fatted sheep came up from the pastures to the pens and folds. Next
thereafter the kine approaching, ten thousand upon ten thousand, showed
for multitude even like the watery clouds that roll forward in heaven
under the stress of the South Wind, or the Thracian North (and countless
are they, and ceaseless in their airy passage, for the wind’s might rolls
up the rear as numerous as the van, and hosts upon hosts again are moving
in infinite array), even so many did herds upon herds of kine move ever
forwards. And, lo, the whole plain was filled, and all the ways, as the
cattle fared onwards, and the rich fields could not contain their lowing,
and the stalls were lightly filled with kine of trailing feet, and the
sheep were being penned in the folds.
There no man, for lack of labour, stood idle by the cattle, though
countless men were there, but one was fastening guards of wood, with
shapely thongs, about the feet of the kine, that he might draw near and
stand by, and milk them. And another beneath their mothers kind was
placing the calves right eager to drink of the sweet milk. Yet another
held a milking pail, while his fellow was fixing the rich cheese, and
another led in the bulls apart from the cows. Meanwhile Augeas was going
round all the stalls, and marking the care his herdsmen bestowed upon all
that was his. And the king’s son, and the mighty, deep-pondering
Heracles, went along with the king, as he passed through his great
possessions. Then though he bore a stout spirit in his heart, and a mind
stablished always imperturbable, yet the son of Amphitryon still
marvelled out of measure, as he beheld these countless troops of cattle.
Yea none would have deemed or believed that the substance of one man
could be so vast, nay, nor ten men’s wealth, were they the richest in
sheep of all the kings in the world. But Helios to his son gave this
gift pre-eminent, namely to abound in flocks far above all other men, and
Helios himself did ever and always give increase to the cattle, for upon
his herds came no disease, of them that always minish the herdman’s toil.
But always more in number waxed the horned kine, and goodlier, year by
year, for verily they all brought forth exceeding abundantly, and never
cast their young, and chiefly bare heifers.
With the kine went continually three hundred bulls, white-shanked, and
curved of horn,—and two hundred others, red cattle,—and all these already
were of an age to mate with the kine. Other twelve bulls, again, besides
these, went together in a herd, being sacred to Helios. They were white
as swans, and shone among all the herds of trailing gait. And these
disdaining the herds grazed still on the rich herbage in the pastures,
and they were exceeding high of heart. And whensoever the swift wild
beasts came down from the rough oakwood to the plain, to seek the wilder
cattle, afield went these bulls first to the fight, at the smell of the
savour of the beasts, bellowing fearfully, and glancing slaughter from
their brows.
Among these bulls was one pre-eminent for strength and might, and for
reckless pride, even the mighty Phaethon, that all the herdsmen still
likened to a star, because he always shone so bright when he went among
the other cattle, and was right easy to be discerned. Now when this bull
beheld the dried skin of the fierce-faced lion, he rushed against the
keen-eyed Heracles himself, to dash his head and stalwart front against
the sides of the hero. Even as he charged, the prince forthwith grasped
him with strong hand by the left horn, and bowed his neck down to the
ground, puissant as he was, and, with the weight of his shoulder, crushed
him backwards, while clear stood out the strained muscle over the sinews
on the hero’s upper arm. Then marvelled the king himself, and his son,
the warlike Phyleus, and the herdsmen that were set over the horned
kine,—when they beheld the exceeding strength of the son of Amphitryon.
Now these twain, even Phyleus and mighty Heracles, left the fat fields
there, and were making for the city. But just where they entered on the
highway, after quickly speeding over the narrow path that stretched
through the vineyard from the farmhouses, a dim path through the green
wood, thereby the dear son of Augeas bespake the child of supreme Zeus,
who was behind him, slightly turning his head over his right shoulder,
‘Stranger, long time ago I heard a tale, which, as of late I guess,
surely concerneth thee. For there came hither, in his wayfaring out of
Argos, a certain young Achaean, from Helicé, by the seashore, who verily
told a tale and that among many Epeians here,—how, even in his presence,
a certain Argive slew a wild beast, a lion dread, a curse of evil omen to
the country folk. The monster had its hollow lair by the grove of Nemean
Zeus, but as for him that slew it, I know not surely whether he was a man
of sacred Argos, there, or a dweller in Tiryns city, or in Mycenae, as he
that told the tale declared. By birth, howbeit, he said (if rightly, I
recall it) that the hero was descended from Perseus. Methinks that none
of the Aegialeis had the hardihood for this deed save thyself; nay, the
hide of the beast that covers thy sides doth clearly proclaim the mighty
deed of thy hands. But come now, hero, tell thou me first, that truly I
may know, whether my foreboding be right or wrong,—if thou art that man
of whom the Achaean from Helicé spake in our hearing, and if I read thee
aright. Tell me how single-handed thou didst slay this ruinous pest, and
how it came to the well-watered ground of Nemea, for not in Apis couldst
thou find,—not though thou soughtest after it,—so great a monster. For
the country feeds no such large game, but bears, and boars, and the
pestilent race of wolves. Wherefore all were in amaze that listened to
the story, and there were some who said that the traveller was lying, and
pleasing them that stood by with the words of an idle tongue.’
Thus Phyleus spake, and stepped out of the middle of the road, that there
might be space for both to walk abreast, and that so he might hear the
more easily the words of Heracles who now came abreast with him, and
spake thus,
‘O son of Augeas, concerning that whereof thou first didst ask me,
thyself most easily hast discerned it aright. Nay then, about this
monster I will tell thee all, even how all was done,—since thou art eager
to hear,—save, indeed, as to whence he came, for, many as the Argives be,
not one can tell that clearly. Only we guess that some one of the
Immortals, in wrath for sacrifice unoffered, sent this bane against the
children of Phoroneus. For over all the men of Pisa the lion swept, like
a flood, and still ravaged insatiate, and chiefly spoiled the
Bembinaeans, that were his neighbours, and endured things intolerable.
‘Now this labour did Eurystheus enjoin on me to fulfil the first of all,
and bade me slay the dreadful monster. So I took my supple bow, and
hollow quiver full of arrows, and set forth; and in my other hand I held
my stout club, well balanced, and wrought, with unstripped bark, from a
shady wild olive-tree, that I myself had found, under sacred Helicon, and
dragged up the whole tree, with the bushy roots. But when I came to the
place whereby the lion abode, even then I grasped my bow and slipped the
string up to the curved tip, and straightway laid thereon the bitter
arrow. Then I cast my eyes on every side, spying for the baneful
monster, if perchance I might see him, or ever he saw me. It was now
midday, and nowhere might I discern the tracks of the monster, nor hear
his roaring. Nay, nor was there one man to be seen with the cattle, and
the tillage through all the furrowed lea, of whom I might inquire, but
wan fear still held them all within the homesteads. Yet I stayed not in
my going, as I quested through the deep-wooded hill, till I beheld him,
and instantly essayed my prowess. Now early in the evening he was making
for his lair, full fed with blood and flesh, and all his bristling mane
was dashed with carnage, and his fierce face, and his breast, and still
with his tongue he kept licking his bearded chin. Then instantly I hid
me in the dark undergrowth, on the wooded hill, awaiting his approach,
and as he came nearer I smote him on the left flank, but all in vain, for
naught did the sharp arrow pierce through his flesh, but leaped back, and
fell on the green grass. Then quickly he raised his tawny head from the
ground, in amaze, glancing all around with his eyes, and with jaws
distent he showed his ravenous teeth. Then I launched against him
another shaft from the string, in wrath that the former flew vainly from
my hand, and I smote him right in the middle of the breast, where the
lung is seated, yet not even so did the cruel arrow sink into his hide,
but fell before his feet, in vain, to no avail. Then for the third time
was I making ready to draw my bow again, in great shame and wrath, but
the furious beast glanced his eyes around, and spied me. With his long
tail he lashed his flanks, and straightway bethought him of battle. His
neck was clothed with wrath, and his tawny hair bristled round his
lowering brow, and his spine was curved like a bow, his whole force being
gathered up from under towards his flanks and loins. And as when a
wainwright, one skilled in many an art, doth bend the saplings of
seasoned fig-tree, having first tempered them in the fire, to make tires
for the axles of his chariot, and even then the fig-tree wood is like to
leap from his hands in the bending, and springs far away at a single
bound, even so the dread lion leaped on me from afar, huddled in a heap,
and keen to glut him with my flesh. Then with one hand I thrust in front
of me my arrows, and the double folded cloak from my shoulder, and with
the other raised the seasoned club above my head, and drove at his crest,
and even on the shaggy scalp of the insatiate beast brake my grievous
cudgel of wild olive-tree. Then or ever he reached me, he fell from his
flight, on to the ground, and stood on trembling feet, with wagging head,
for darkness gathered about both his eyes, his brain being shaken in his
skull with the violence of the blow. Then when I marked how he was
distraught with the grievous torment, or ever he could turn and gain
breath again, I fell on him, and seized him by the column of his stubborn
neck. To earth I cast my bow, and woven quiver, and strangled him with
all my force, gripping him with stubborn clasp from the rear, lest he
should rend my flesh with his claws, and I sprang on him and kept firmly
treading his hind feet into the soil with my heels, while I used his
sides to guard my thighs, till I had strained his shoulders utterly, then
lifted him up, all breathless,—and Hell took his monstrous life.
‘And then at last I took thought how I should strip the rough hide from
the dead beast’s limbs, a right hard labour, for it might not be cut with
steel, when I tried, nor stone, nor with aught else. {143} Thereon one
of the Immortals put into my mind the thought to cleave the lion’s hide
with his own claws. With these I speedily flayed it off, and cast it
about my limbs, for my defence against the brunt of wounding war.
‘Friend, lo even thus befel the slaying of the Nemean Lion, that
aforetime had brought many a bane on flocks and men.’