a beautiful day; there was scarcely a cloud in the sky, and there was
a fresh breeze just strong enough to fill the sails and move the ship
gently through the water. The waves danced and shone like gold in the
bright sunshine, while the ship tossed up the white foam as she sailed
merrily on towards Corinth. So they went on many days, for Arion sat at
the head of the ship to see how it cut through the water, and as they
passed one place after another, he thought that they would soon reach
Corinth. But the sailors in the ship were wicked men. They had seen the
large boxes full of money which Arion had brought with him into the ship,
and now they made up their mind to kill him and take his gold and silver.
So one day while he was sitting at the bow of the ship, and looking down
on the dark blue sea, three or four of the sailors came up to him and
said that they were going to kill him. Now Arion knew that they said this
because they wanted his money; so he promised to give them all that he
had if they would spare his life. But they would not. Then he asked them
to let him play once more on his harp, and sing one of the songs which
he loved the best, and he said that when it was finished he would leap
into the sea. When they had given him leave to do this, Arion put on a
beautiful dress, took his harp in his hand, and stood up to sing. And as
he sang, the sailors began to feel sorry that they were going to kill
him, because they would have no more of his sweet music when he was dead.
But when they thought of all the gold and silver which Arion was taking
to Corinth, they made up their minds that they would not let him live;
and Arion took one last look at the bright and sunny sky, and then leaped
into the sea, and the sailors saw him no more.
The ship sailed on merrily over the dark water, just as though it were
not carrying so many wicked men to Corinth. But Arion was not drowned. A
great fish called a dolphin was swimming by the ship when Arion leaped
over; and it caught him on its back and swam away with him towards
Corinth much faster than the ship could sail. On and on the great fish
swam, cutting through the foam of the sea which was tossed up over Arion;
and by and by he saw at a distance the high cliffs and peaks which he
knew were the cliffs and peaks above Corinth. So presently the fish came
close to the shore and left Arion on the beach, and swam away again into
the deep sea.
Arion was cold and tired with being so long in the water, and he could
hardly crawl up into the city as far as the house where Periandros the
tyrant lived. At last he reached the house, and was taken into the great
hall where Periandros was sitting. And when he saw Arion, Periandros rose
up, and came to meet him, and said: “Why, Arion, what is all this? Your
clothes are dripping with water; I thought you were coming to Corinth
from Sicily in a ship, but you look more as if you had been in the sea
than in a ship: did you swim here through the water?” Then Arion told him
all the story; how he had left Taras in a ship with Corinthian men whom
he had hired to bring him home, how they had tried to kill him that they
might take his money, and how the dolphin had brought him to the shore
when they made him leap from the ship into the sea. But Periandros did
not believe the story, and said to Arion, “You cannot make me think that
this strange tale is true: who ever swam on a dolphin’s back before?” So
he told his servants to give Arion all that he wanted, but not to let
him go until the ship in which he had left Taras came to Corinth.
Two days afterwards, Arion was standing by the side of Periandros, and
looking out over the sea. Presently he saw the white sails of a ship
which was sailing into the harbor with a gentle breeze from the west. As
it came nearer and nearer, Arion thought that it looked very like his
own ship, until at last he was able to see from the colors on its prow
that it was the very ship in which he had been sailing. Then he said to
Periandros, “See, they are come at last, and now go and send for these
sailors, and see whether I have not told you the truth.” So Periandros
sent down fifty soldiers with swords and spears and shields, to bring up
all the sailors from the ship.
The ship was sailing in merrily towards the shore, and the soft west wind
filled out its white sails as it cut through the water. As they looked
on the beautiful land to which they were coming, they thought of all the
things which they should be able to buy with Arion’s gold and silver;
and how they would do nothing but eat and drink and be merry, as soon
as they got out of the ship. So when they came to the beach, they let
down the sails, lowered the masts, and threw out ropes from the stern to
fasten the ship to the shore. They never thought that the fifty soldiers
whose spears and shields were shining gaily in the sunshine had been sent
on purpose to take them; and they could not make out why it was that,
as soon as they came out from the ship upon the dry land, the soldiers
said that they must all go as quickly as they could to the house of
Periandros. Ten of the soldiers stayed behind to guard the ship, while
the rest led the sailors to the palace. When they were brought before
him, Periandros spoke to them kindly, and asked them from what place
they had come; and the sailors said that they had come from Italy, from
the great city of Taras. Then Periandros said, “If you have come from
Italy, perhaps you can tell me something about my friend Arion. A long
time ago he left Corinth, and said that he was going to Sicily and Italy;
and I cannot think why he should be away so long, for if the people have
given him as much money for his music as they did here, he must now be a
very rich man.” Then the sailors said, “Yes, we can tell you all about
Arion. We left him quite safe at Taras, where every one wanted to hear
him sing; but he said that he should not come to Corinth, until they
had given him more gold and silver and made him a richer man.” Just as
they were telling this lie, the door of the room was opened, and Arion
himself walked in; and Periandros turned round to the sailors, and said,
“See, here is the man whom you left quite safe and well at Taras. How
dare you tell me so great a lie? Now I know that Arion has told me the
truth, and that you wished to kill him, and made him leap into the sea;
but the dolphin caught him as he fell, and brought him here on its back.
And now listen to me. Of all Arion’s gold and silver you shall have none;
everything that was his you shall give back to him; and I shall take away
your ship, and everything in it which belongs to you, because you wished
to rob and kill Arion.” Then the soldiers came, and turned these wicked
sailors into the street, and drove them on, calling to the people to come
and see the men who had sought to murder Arion. And all came out of their
houses, and hooted at the sailors as they passed by, until they were
ready to sink down with fear and shame.
So Periandros took their ship, and gave back to Arion all his gold and
silver, and what he loved better than his riches—his golden harp. And
every one came to hear the wonderful tale of Arion and the dolphin; and
Arion made a large statue out of stone to look like a man on a dolphin’s
back, and placed it on Cape Tainaron, that the people might never forget
how the dolphin saved Arion when he leaped into the sea.
THE BATTLE OF THE FROGS AND THE MICE
By Sir George W. Cox
A thirsty mouse, who had just escaped from a weasel, was drinking from a
pool of water, when a croaking frog saw him, and said, “Stranger, when
hast thou come to our shore, and who is thy father? Tell me the truth,
and deceive me not, for if thou deservest it, I will lead thee to my
house and give thee rich and beautiful gifts. My name is Puffcheek, and I
rule over the frogs who dwell in this lake, and I see that thou, too, art
an excellent prince and a brave warrior. So make haste, and tell me to
what race thou dost belong.”
The mouse answered him and said, “Friend, why dost thou ask me of my
race? It is known to all the gods, and to men, and to all the birds of
heaven. My name is Crumbfilcher and I am the son of the great-hearted
Breadgnawer, and my mother is Lickmill, the daughter of King Hamnibbler.
I was born in a hovel, and fed on figs and nuts and on all manner of good
things. But how can we be friends? We are not at all like each other. You
frogs live in the water; we feed on whatever is eaten by man. No dainty
escapes my eye, whether it be bread, or cake, or ham, or new-made cheese,
or rich dishes prepared for feasts. As to war, I have never dreaded
its noise, but, going straight into it, have taken my place among the
foremost warriors. Nor do I fear men, although they have large bodies;
for at night I can bite a finger or nibble a heel without waking the
sleeper from his pleasant slumber. But there are two things which I dread
greatly—a mouse-trap and a hawk; but worse than these are the weasels,
for they can catch us in our holes. What then am I to do? for I cannot
eat the cabbages, radishes, and pumpkins, which furnish food to the race
of frogs.”
Then Puffcheek answered with a smile, “My friend, thou art dainty enough,
but we have fine things to show on the dry land and in the marsh, for the
son of Cronos has given us the power to dwell on land or in the water as
it may please us. If thou wouldst see these things, it is soon done. Get
on my back and hold on well, so that thou mayest reach my house with a
cheerful heart.” So he turned his bade to the mouse, who sprang lightly
on it and put his arms round his soft neck. Much pleased he was at first
to swim on the back of Puffcheek, while the haven was near; but when he
got out into midwater, he began to weep and to curse his useless sorrow.
He tore his hair, and drew his feet tightly round the frog’s stomach. His
heart beat wildly, and he wished himself well on shore, as he uttered a
pitiful cry and spread out his tail on the water, moving it about like an
oar. Then in the bitterness of his grief he said, “Surely it was not thus
the bull carried the beautiful Europa on his back over the sea to Crete;
surely—” But before he could say more, a snake, of which frogs and mice
alike are afraid, lifted up his head straight above the water. Down dived
Puffcheek, when he saw the snake, never thinking that he had left the
mouse to die. The frog was safe at the bottom of the marsh, but the mouse
fell on his back and screamed terribly. Many times he sank and many times
he came up again, kicking hard; but there was no hope. The hair on his
skin was soaked and weighed him down, and with his last breath he cried,
“Puffcheek, thou shalt not escape for thy treachery. On the land I could
have beaten thee in boxing, wrestling, or running; but thou hast beguiled
me into the water, where I can do nothing. The eye of justice sees thee,
and thou shalt pay a fearful penalty to the great army of the mice.”
So the Crumbfilcher died; but Lickplatter saw him as he sat on the soft
bank, and uttering a sharp cry, went to tell the mice. Then was there
great wrath among them, and messengers were sent to bid all come in
the morning to the house of Breadgnawer, the father of the luckless
Crumbfilcher, whose body could not even be buried, because it was
floating in the middle of the pond. They came at dawn, and Breadgnawer,
rising in grief and rage, said, “Friends, I may be the only one whom the
frogs have sorely injured; but we all live a poor life, and I am in sad
plight, for I have lost three sons. The first was slain by a hateful
weasel who caught him outside his hole. The next one cruel men brought to
his death by a newfangled device of wood, which they call a trap; and now
my darling Crumbfilcher has been drowned. Come and let us arm ourselves
for war and go forth to battle.”
So they each put on his armor. For greaves around their legs they used
the beans on which they fed at night, and their breastplates they made
cunningly out of the skin of a dead weasel. For spears they carried
skewers, and the shell of a nut for a helmet. So they stood in battle
array, and the frogs, when they came to hear of it, rose from the water
and summoned a council in a corner of the pond. As they wondered what
might be the cause of these things, there came a messenger from the mice,
who declared war against them and said, “Ye frogs, the mice bid you arm
yourselves and come forth to battle, for they have seen Crumbfilcher,
whom your king Puffcheek drowned, floating dead on the water.” Then the
valiant frogs feared exceedingly, and blamed the deed of Puffcheek; but
the king said, “Friends, I did not kill the mouse or see him die; of
course he was drowned while he amused himself in the pond by trying to
swim like a frog, and the wretches now bring a charge against me who am
wholly guiltless. But come, let us take counsel how we may destroy these
mice and this, I think, is the best plan. Let us arm ourselves and take
our stand where the bank is steepest, and when they come charging against
us, let us seize their helmets and drag them down into the pond. Thus we
shall drown them all and set up a trophy for our victory.” So they each
put on his armor. They covered their legs with mallow leaves, and carried
radish leaves for shields, rushes for spears, snail-shells for helmets.
Thus they stood in array on the high bank, brandishing their spears and
shouting for battle.
But Jupiter summoned the gods to the starry heaven, and, pointing to the
hosts of the frogs and mice, mighty as the armies of the Centaurs or the
giants, he asked who would aid each side as it might be hard pressed in
the strife; and he said to Minerva, “Daughter, thou wilt go surely to
the aid of the mice, for they are always running about thy shrine, and
delight in the fat and the morsels which they pick from the sacrifices.”
But Minerva said to the son of Cronos, “Father, I go not to help the
mice, for they have done me grievous mischief, spoiling the garlands and
the lamps for the sake of the oil. Nay, I have greater cause for anger,
for they have eaten the robe which I wove from fine thread, and made
holes in it; and the man who mended it charges a high price, and, worse
still, I borrowed the stuff of which I wove it, and now I cannot pay it
back. Yet neither will I aid the frogs, for they are not in their right
senses. A little while ago, I came back tired from war and wanting
sleep; but they never let me close my eyes with their clatter, and I lay
sleepless with a headache till the cock crew in the morning. But, O ye
gods, let us aid neither side, lest we be wounded with their swords or
spears, for they are sharp and strong, even against gods; let us take our
sport by watching the strife in safety.”
The gods did as Minerva bade them, and went all to one place. The gnats,
with their great trumpets, gave the signal for battle, and Jupiter
thundered out of the sky because of the woes that were coming. Mighty
were the deeds that were done on both sides, and the earth and the
pond were reddened with the blood of the slain. As the fight went on,
Crumbstealer slew Garliceater before he came to land; and Mudwalker,
seeing it, threw at him a clod of earth, and, hitting him on the
forehead, almost blinded him. In his fury, Crumbstealer seized a great
stone, and crushed the leg of the frog, so that he fell on his back in
the dust. Then Breadgnawer wounded Puffcheek in the foot, and made him
limp into the water.
But among the mice was a young hero, with whom none could be matched
for boldness and strength, and his name was Bitstealer. On the bank of
the pond he stood alone, and vowed a vow to destroy the whole race of
frogs. And the vow would have been accomplished, for his might was great
indeed, had not the son of Cronos pitied the frogs in their misery, and
charged Minerva and Mars to drive Bitstealer from the battle. But Mars
made answer and said, “O Jupiter, neither Minerva nor Mars alone can save
the frogs from death. Let us all go and help them; and do thou, son of
Cronos, wield thy mighty weapon with which thou didst slay the Titans,
and the wild race of giants, for thus only can the bravest of them be
slain.” So spake Mars; and Jupiter hurled his scathing thunderbolts,
and the lightnings flashed from the sky, and Olympus shook with the
earthquake. The frogs and mice heard and trembled; but the mice ceased
not yet from the battle, and strove only the more to slay their enemies,
until Jupiter, in his pity, sent a new army to aid the frogs.
Suddenly they came on the mice, with mailed backs and crooked claws, with
limping gait, and mouths like shears. Their backs were hard and horny,
their arms were long and lean, and their eyes were in their breasts. They
had eight feet and two heads, and no hands. Men call them crabs. With
their mouths they bit the tails and feet and hands of the mice, and broke
their spears, and great terror came on all the mice, so that they turned
and fled. Thus the battle was ended, and the sun went down.
ORPHEUS THE SWEET SINGER
By Sir George W. Cox
In the pleasant valleys of a country which was called Thessaly, there
lived a man whose name was Orpheus. Every day he made soft music with
his golden harp, and sang beautiful songs such as no one had ever heard
before. And whenever Orpheus sang, then everything came to listen to
him, and the trees bowed down their heads to hear; even the clouds sailed
along more gently and brightly in the sky when he sang, and the stream
which ran close to his feet made a softer noise, to show how glad his
music made it.
Now Orpheus had a wife who was called Eurydice, whom he loved very
dearly. All through the winter when the snow was on the hills, and all
through the summer when the sunshine made everything beautiful, Orpheus
used to sing to her; and Eurydice sat on the grass by his side while the
beasts came round to listen, and the trees bowed down their heads to hear
him.
But one day when Eurydice was playing with some children on the banks of
the river, she trod upon a snake in the long grass, and the snake bit
her. And by and by she began to be very sick, and Eurydice knew that she
must die. So she told the children to go to Orpheus (for he was far away)
and say how sorry she was to leave him, and that she loved him always
very dearly; and then she put her head down upon the soft grass, and fell
asleep and died. Sad indeed was Orpheus when the children came to tell
him that Eurydice was dead. He felt so wretched that he never played upon
his golden harp, and he never opened his lips to sing; and the beasts
that used to listen to him wondered why Orpheus sat all alone on the
green bank where Eurydice used to sit with him, and why it was that he
never made any more beautiful music. All day long he sat there, and his
cheeks were often wet with tears. At last he said, “I cannot stay here
any more; I must go and look for Eurydice. I cannot bear to be without
her, and perhaps the king of the land where people go after they are dead
will let her come back and live with me again.”
So he took his harp in his hand, and went to look for Eurydice in the
land where the sun goes down into his golden cup before the night comes
on. He went on and on a very long way, till at last he came to a high
and dark gateway. It was barred across with iron bars, and was bolted
and locked so that nobody could open it. It was a wretched and gloomy
place, because the sunshine never came there, and it was covered with
clouds and mist. In front of this great gateway there sat a monstrous
dog, with three heads, six eyes, and three tongues; and everything was
dark around, except his eyes, which shone like fire, and which saw every
one that dared to come near. Now when Orpheus came looking for Eurydice,
the dog raised his three heads, opened his three mouths, and gnashed his
teeth at him, and roared terribly; but when Orpheus came nearer, the dog
jumped up on his feet ready to fly at him and tear him to pieces. Then
Orpheus took down his harp and began to play upon its golden strings. And
the dog Cerberus (for that was his name) growled and snarled and showed
the great white teeth in his three mouths; but he could not help hearing
the sweet music, and he wondered why it was that he no longer wished to
tear Orpheus in pieces. Soon the music made him quiet and still, and at
last it lulled him to sleep. Then Orpheus passed by him and came up to
the gate, and found it wide open, for it had come open of its own accord
while he was singing. He was glad when he saw this, for he thought that
now he should see Eurydice.
So he went on and on a long way, until he came to the palace of the
king; and there were guards placed before the door who tried to keep him
from going in; but Orpheus played upon his harp, and they could not help
letting him pass.
So he went into the great hall, where he saw the king and queen sitting
on a throne; and as he came near, the king called out to him with a loud
and terrible voice, “Who are you, and how dare you to come here? Do you
not know that no one is allowed to come here till after he is dead? I
will have you chained and placed in a dungeon, from which you will never
be able to get out.” Orpheus said nothing; but took his golden harp in
his hand and began to sing more sweetly and gently than ever. And as
he sang, the face of the king began to look almost glad, and his anger
passed away. Then the king said, “You have made me feel happy with your
sweet music, although I have never felt happy before; and now tell me why
you have come, because you must want something, for, otherwise, no one
would come, before he was dead, to this sad and gloomy land of which I am
the king.” Then Orpheus said, “O king, give me back my dear Eurydice, and
let her go from this gloomy place and live with me on the bright earth
again.” So the king said that she could go. And the king said to Orpheus,
“I have given you what you wanted, because you sang so sweetly; and when
you go back to the earth from this place, your wife whom you love shall
go up after you: but remember that you must never look back until she has
reached the earth, for if you do, Eurydice will be brought back here, and
I shall not be able to give her to you again, even if you should sing
more sweetly and gently than ever.”
Now Orpheus was longing to see Eurydice, and he hoped that the king would
let him see her at once; but when the king said that he must not try to
see her till she had reached the earth, he was quite content, for he
said, “Shall I not wait patiently a little while, that Eurydice may come
and live with me again?” So he promised the king that he would go up to
the earth without stopping to look behind and see whether Eurydice was
coming after him.
Then Orpheus left the palace of the king, and he passed through the dark
gateway, and the dog Cerberus did not bark or growl, for he knew that
Orpheus would not have been allowed to come back, if the king had not
wished it. So he went on and on a long way; and he became impatient, and
longed more and more to see Eurydice. At last he came near to the land of
living men, and he saw just a little streak of light, where the sun was
going to rise from the sea; and presently the sky became brighter, and he
saw everything before him so clearly that he could not help turning round
to look at Eurydice. But, ah! she had not yet quite reached the earth,
and so he lost her again. He saw something pale and white, which looked
like his own dear wife; and he just heard a soft and gentle voice, which
sounded like the voice of Eurydice, and then it all melted away. And
still he thought that he saw that pale white face, and heard that soft
voice, which said, “O Orpheus, Orpheus, why did you look back? How dearly
I love you, and how glad I should have been to live with you again; but
now I must go back, because you have broken your promise to the king, and
I must not even kiss you, and say how much I love you.”
Orpheus sat down at the place where Eurydice was taken from him; he could
go no further. There he stayed day after day, and his cheeks became
paler, and his body weaker and weaker, till at last he knew that he must
die. And Orpheus was not sorry; for although he loved the bright earth,
with all its flowers and grass and sunny streams, he knew that he could
not be with Eurydice again until he had left it. So at last he laid his
head upon the earth, and fell asleep, and died: and then he and Eurydice
saw each other in the land which is far away, where the sun goes down at
night into his golden cup, and were never parted again.
NIOBE, A VICTIM OF LATONA’S JEALOUSY
By Thomas Bulfinch
Niobe, the Queen of Thebes, had much to be proud of; but it was not her
husband’s fame, nor her own beauty, nor their great descent, nor the
power of their kingdom that elated her. It was her children; and truly
the happiest of mothers would Niobe have been if only she had not
claimed to be so.