blush. “It was either Pegasus, or a large white bird, a very great way up
in the air. And one other time, as I was coming to the fountain with my
pitcher, I heard a neigh. Oh, such a brisk and melodious neigh as that
was! My very heart leaped with delight at the sound. But it startled me,
nevertheless; so that I ran home without filling my pitcher.”
“That was truly a pity!” said Bellerophon.
And he turned to the child, whom I mentioned at the beginning of the
story, and who was gazing at him, as children are apt to gaze at
strangers, with his rosy mouth wide open.
“Well, my little fellow,” cried Bellerophon, playfully pulling one of his
curls, “I suppose you have often seen the winged horse.”
“That I have,” answered the child, very readily. “I saw him yesterday,
and many times before.”
“You are a fine little man!” said Bellerophon, drawing the child closer
to him. “Come, tell me all about it.”
“Why,” replied the child, “I often come here to sail little boats in the
fountain, and to gather pretty pebbles out of its basin. And sometimes,
when I look down into the water, I see the image of the winged horse, in
the picture of the sky that is there. I wish he would come down, and take
me on his back, and let me ride him up to the moon! But, if I so much as
stir to look at him, he flies far away out of sight.”
And Bellerophon put his faith in the child, who had seen the image of
Pegasus in the water, and in the maiden, who had heard him neigh so
melodiously, rather than in the middle-aged clown, who believed only in
cart-horses, or in the old man who had forgotten the beautiful things of
his youth.
Therefore, he haunted about the Fountain of Pirene for a great many days
afterward. He kept continually on the watch, looking upward at the sky,
or else down into the water, hoping forever that he should see either
the reflected image of the winged horse, or the marvellous reality. He
held the bridle, with its bright gems and golden bit, always ready in his
hand. The rustic people, who dwelt in the neighborhood, and drove their
cattle to the fountain to drink, would often laugh at poor Bellerophon,
and sometimes take him pretty severely to task. They told him that an
able-bodied young man, like himself, ought to have better business than
to be wasting his time in such an idle pursuit. They offered to sell him
a horse, if he wanted one; and when Bellerophon declined the purchase,
they tried to drive a bargain with him for his fine bridle.
Even the country boys thought him so very foolish, that they used to
have a great deal of sport about him, and were rude enough not to care
a fig, although Bellerophon saw and heard it. One little urchin, for
example, would play Pegasus, and cut the oddest imaginable capers, by
way of flying; while one of his school-fellows would scamper after him,
holding forth a twist of bulrushes, which was intended to represent
Bellerophon’s ornamental bridle. But the gentle child, who had seen the
picture of Pegasus in the water, comforted the young stranger more than
all the naughty boys could torment him. The dear little fellow, in his
play-hours, often sat down beside him, and, without speaking a word,
would look down into the fountain and up toward the sky, with so innocent
a faith, that Bellerophon could not help feeling encouraged.
Now you will, perhaps, wish to be told why it was that Bellerophon
had undertaken to catch the winged horse. And we shall find no better
opportunity to speak about this matter than while he is waiting for
Pegasus to appear.
If I were to relate the whole of Bellerophon’s previous adventures,
they might easily grow into a very long story. It will be quite enough
to say, that, in a certain country in Asia, a terrible monster, called
a Chimæra, had made its appearance, and was doing more mischief than
could be talked about between now and sunset. According to the best
accounts which I have been able to obtain, this Chimæra was nearly, if
not quite the ugliest and most poisonous creature, and the strangest and
unaccountablest, and the hardest to fight with, and the most difficult to
run away from, that ever came out of the earth’s inside. It had a tail
like a boa-constrictor; its body was like I do not care what; and it had
three separate heads, one of which was a lion’s, the second a goat’s,
and the third an abominably great snake’s. And a hot blast of fire came
flaming out of each of its three mouths! Being an earthly monster, I
doubt whether it had any wings; but, wings or no, it ran like a goat and
a lion, and wriggled along like a serpent, and thus contrived to make
about as much speed as all the three together.
Oh, the mischief, and mischief, and mischief that this naughty creature
did! With its flaming breath, it could set a forest on fire, or burn up a
field of grain, or, for that matter, a village, with all its fences and
houses. It laid waste the whole country round about, and used to eat up
people and animals alive, and cook them afterward in the burning oven of
its stomach. Mercy on us, little children, I hope neither you nor I will
ever happen to meet a Chimæra!
While the hateful beast (if a beast we can anywise call it) was doing
all these horrible things, it so chanced that Bellerophon came to that
part of the world, on a visit to the king. The king’s name was Iobates,
and Lycia was the country which he ruled over. Bellerophon was one of
the bravest youths in the world, and desired nothing so much as to do
some valiant and beneficent deed, such as would make all mankind admire
and love him. In those days, the only way for a young man to distinguish
himself was by fighting battles, either with the enemies of his country,
or with wicked giants, or with troublesome dragons, or with wild beasts,
when he could find nothing more dangerous to encounter.
King Iobates perceiving the courage of his youthful visitor, proposed to
him to go and fight the Chimæra, which everybody else was afraid of, and
which, unless it should be soon killed, was likely to convert Lycia into
a desert. Bellerophon hesitated not a moment, but assured the king that
he would either slay this dreaded Chimæra, or perish in the attempt.
But, in the first place, as the monster was so prodigiously swift, he
bethought himself that he should never win the victory by fighting on
foot. The wisest thing he could do, therefore, was to get the very best
and fleetest horse that could anywhere be found. And what other horse,
in all the world, was half so fleet as the marvellous horse Pegasus, who
had wings as well as legs, and was even more active in the air than on
the earth? To be sure, a great many people denied that there was any such
horse with wings, and said that the stories about him were all poetry
and nonsense. But, wonderful as it appeared, Bellerophon believed that
Pegasus was a real steed, and hoped that he himself might be fortunate
enough to find him; and, once fairly mounted on his back, he would be
able to fight the Chimæra at better advantage.
And this was the purpose with which he had travelled from Lycia to
Greece, and had brought the beautifully ornamental bridle in his hand. It
was an enchanted bridle. If he could only succeed in putting the golden
bit into the mouth of Pegasus, the winged horse would be submissive, and
would own Bellerophon for his master, and fly whithersoever he might
choose to turn the rein.
But, indeed, it was a weary and anxious time, while Bellerophon waited
and waited for Pegasus, in hopes that he would come and drink at the
Fountain of Pirene. He was afraid lest King Iobates should imagine that
he had fled from the Chimæra. It pained him, too, to think how much
mischief the monster was doing, while he himself, instead of fighting
with it, was compelled to sit idly poring over the bright waters of
Pirene, as they gushed out of the sparkling sand. And as Pegasus came
thither so seldom in these latter years, and scarcely alighted there
more than once in a lifetime, Bellerophon feared that he might grow an
old man, and have no strength left in his arms nor courage in his heart,
before the winged horse would appear. Oh, how heavily passes the time,
while an adventurous youth is yearning to do his part in life and to
gather in the harvest of his renown! How hard a lesson it is to wait! Our
life is brief, and how much of it is spent in teaching us only this!
Well was it for Bellerophon that the gentle child had grown so fond of
him, and was never weary of keeping him company. Every morning the child
gave him a new hope to put in his bosom, instead of yesterday’s withered
one.
“Dear Bellerophon,” he would cry, looking up hopefully into his face, “I
think we shall see Pegasus to-day!”
And, at length, if it had not been for the little boy’s unwavering faith,
Bellerophon would have given up all hope, and would have gone back to
Lycia, and have done his best to slay the Chimæra without the help of the
winged horse. And in that case poor Bellerophon would at least have been
terribly scorched by the creature’s breath, and would most probably have
been killed and devoured. Nobody should ever try to fight an earth-born
Chimæra, unless he can first get upon the back of an aërial steed.
One morning the child spoke to Bellerophon even more hopefully than usual.
“Dear, dear Bellerophon,” cried he, “I know not why it is, but I feel as
if we should certainly see Pegasus to-day!”
And all that day he would not stir a step from Bellerophon’s side; so
they ate a crust of bread together and drank some of the water of the
fountain. In the afternoon, there they sat, and Bellerophon had thrown
his arm around the child, who likewise had put one of his little hands
into Bellerophon’s.
The latter was lost in his own thoughts, and was fixing his eyes vacantly
on the trunks of the trees that overshadowed the fountain, and on the
grapevines that clambered up among their branches. But the gentle child
was gazing down into the water; he was grieved, for Bellerophon’s sake,
that the hope of another day should be deceived, like so many before it;
and two or three quiet tear-drops fell from his eyes, and mingled with
what were said to be the many tears of Pirene, when she wept for her
slain children.
But, when he least thought of it, Bellerophon felt the pressure of the
child’s little hand, and heard a soft, almost breathless, whisper.
“See there, dear Bellerophon! There is an image in the water!”
The young man looked down into the dimpling mirror of the fountain,
and saw what he took to be the reflection of a bird which seemed to be
flying at a great height in the air, with a gleam of sunshine on its
snowy or silvery wings.
“What a splendid bird it must be!” said he. “And how very large it looks,
though it must really be flying higher than the clouds!”
“It makes me tremble!” whispered the child. “I am afraid to look up into
the air! It is very beautiful, and yet I dare only look at its image in
the water. Dear Bellerophon, do you not see that it is no bird? It is the
winged horse Pegasus!”
Bellerophon’s heart began to throb! He gazed keenly upward, but could
not see the winged creature, whether bird or horse; because, just then,
it had plunged into the fleecy depths of a summer cloud. It was but a
moment, however, before the object reappeared, sinking lightly down out
of the cloud, although still at a vast distance from the earth.
Bellerophon caught the child in his arms, and shrank back with him, so
that they were both hidden among the thick shrubbery which grew all
around the fountain. Not that he was afraid of any harm, but he dreaded
lest, if Pegasus caught a glimpse of them, he would fly far away, and
alight in some inaccessible mountain-top. For it was really the winged
horse. After they had expected him so long, he was coming to quench his
thirst with the water of Pirene.
Nearer and nearer came the aërial wonder, flying in great circles, as
you may have seen a dove when about to alight. Downward came Pegasus, in
those wide, sweeping circles, which grew narrower, and narrower still,
as he gradually approached the earth. The nigher the view of him, the
more beautiful he was, and the more marvellous the sweep of his silvery
wings. At last, with so light a pressure as hardly to bend the grass
about the fountain, or imprint a hoof-tramp in the sand of its margin,
he alighted, and, stooping his wild head, began to drink. He drew in the
water, with long and pleasant sighs, and tranquil pauses of enjoyment;
and then another draught, and another, and another. For, nowhere in the
world, or up among the clouds, did Pegasus love any water as he loved
this of Pirene. And when his thirst was slaked, he cropped a few of the
honey-blossoms of the clover, delicately tasting them, but not caring to
make a hearty meal, because the herbage, just beneath the clouds, on the
lofty sides of Mount Helicon, suited his palate better than this ordinary
grass.
After thus drinking to his heart’s content, and in his dainty fashion,
condescending to take a little food, the winged horse began to caper to
and fro, and dance as it were, out of mere idleness and sport. There
never was a more playful creature made than this very Pegasus. So there
he frisked, in a way that it delights me to think about, fluttering
his great wings as lightly as ever did a linnet, and running little
races, half on earth and half in the air, and which I know not whether
to call a flight or a gallop. When a creature is perfectly able to fly,
he sometimes chooses to run, just for the pastime of the thing; and so
did Pegasus, although it cost him some little trouble to keep his hoofs
so near the ground. Bellerophon, meanwhile, holding the child’s hand,
peeped forth from the shrubbery, and thought that never was any sight so
beautiful as this, nor ever a horse’s eyes so wild and spirited as those
of Pegasus. It seemed a sin to think of bridling him and riding on his
back.
Once or twice Pegasus stopped, and snuffed the air, pricking up his ears,
tossing his head, and turning it on all sides, as if he partly suspected
some mischief or other. Seeing nothing, however, and hearing no sound, he
soon began his antics again.
At length—not that he was weary, but only idle and luxurious—Pegasus
folded his wings, and lay down on the soft green turf. But, being too
full of aërial life to remain quiet for many moments together, he soon
rolled over on his back, with his four slender legs in the air. It was
beautiful to see him, this one solitary creature, whose mate had never
been created, but who needed no companion, and, living a great many
hundred years, was as happy as the centuries were long. The more he did
such things as mortal horses are accustomed to do, the less earthly and
the more wonderful he seemed. Bellerophon and the child almost held their
breath, partly from a delightful awe, but still more because they dreaded
lest the slightest stir or murmur should send him up, with the speed of
an arrow-flight, into the furthest blue of the sky.
Finally, when he had enough of rolling over and over, Pegasus turned
himself about, and, indolently, like any other horse, put out his fore
legs, in order to rise from the ground; and Bellerophon, who had guessed
that he would do so, darted suddenly from the thicket, and leaped astride
of his back.
Yes, there he sat, on the back of the winged horse!
But what a bound did Pegasus make, when for the first time, he felt the
weight of a mortal man upon his loins! A bound, indeed! Before he had
time to draw a breath, Bellerophon found himself five hundred feet aloft,
and still shooting upward, while the winged horse snorted and trembled
with terror and anger. Upward he went, up, up, up, until he plunged into
the cold misty bosom of a cloud, at which, only a little while before,
Bellerophon had been gazing, and fancying it a very pleasant spot.
Then again, out of the heart of the cloud, Pegasus shot down like a
thunderbolt, as if he meant to dash both himself and his rider headlong
against a rock. Then he went through about a thousand of the wildest
caprioles that had ever been performed either by a bird or a horse.
[Illustration: THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE—page 80
_From the painting by Maxfield Parrish_]
I cannot tell you half that he did. He skimmed straight forward, and
sidewise, and backward. He reared himself erect, with his fore legs on
a wreath of mist, and his hind legs on nothing at all. He flung out his
heels behind, and put down his head between his legs, with his wings
pointing right upward. At about two miles’ height above the earth, he
turned a somerset, so that Bellerophon’s heels were where his head should
have been, and he seemed to look down into the sky instead of up. He
twisted his head about, and, looking Bellerophon in the face, with fire
flashing from his eyes, made a terrible attempt to bite him. He fluttered
his pinions so wildly that one of the silver feathers was shaken out, and
floating earthward, was picked up by the child, who kept it as long as
he lived, in memory of Pegasus and Bellerophon.
But the latter (who, as you may judge, was as good a horseman as ever
galloped) had been watching his opportunity, and at last clapped the
golden bit of the enchanted bridle between the winged steed’s jaws. No
sooner was this done, than Pegasus became as manageable as if he had
taken food, all his life, out of Bellerophon’s hand. To speak what I
really feel, it was almost a sadness to see so wild a creature grow
suddenly so tame. And Pegasus seemed to feel it so, likewise. He looked
round to Bellerophon, with the tears in his beautiful eyes, instead of
the fire that so recently flashed from them. But when Bellerophon patted
his head, and spoke a few authoritative, yet kind and soothing words,
another look came into the eyes of Pegasus; for he was glad at heart,
after so many lonely centuries, to have found a companion and a master.
Thus it always is with winged horses, and with all such wild and solitary
creatures. If you can catch and overcome them, it is the surest way to
win their love.
While Pegasus had been doing his utmost to shake Bellerophon off his
back, he had flown a very long distance; and they had come within sight
of a lofty mountain by the time the bit was in his mouth. Bellerophon had
seen this mountain before, and knew it to be Helicon, on the summit of
which was the winged horse’s abode. Thither (after looking gently into
the rider’s face, as if to ask leave) Pegasus now flew, and, alighting,
waited patiently until Bellerophon should please to dismount. The
young man, accordingly, leaped from his steed’s back, but still held
him fast by the bridle. Meeting his eyes, however, he was so affected
by the gentleness of his aspect, and by the thought of the free life
which Pegasus had heretofore lived, that he could not bear to keep him a
prisoner, if he really desired his liberty.
Obeying this generous impulse he slipped the enchanted bridle off the
head of Pegasus, and took the bit from his mouth.
“Leave me, Pegasus!” said he. “Either leave me, or love me.”
In an instant the winged horse shot almost out of sight, soaring straight
upward from the summit of Mount Helicon. Being long after sunset, it was
now twilight on the mountain-top, and dusky evening over all the country
round about. But Pegasus flew so high that he overtook the departed day,
and was bathed in the upper radiance of the sun. Ascending higher and
higher, he looked a bright speck, and, at last, could no longer be seen
in the hollow waste of the sky. And Bellerophon was afraid that he should
never behold him more. But, while he was lamenting his own folly, the
bright speck reappeared, and drew nearer and nearer, until it descended
lower than the sunshine; and, behold, Pegasus had come back! After this
trial there was no more fear of the winged horse’s making his escape. He
and Bellerophon were friends, and put loving faith in one another.
That night they lay down and slept together, with Bellerophon’s arm
about the neck of Pegasus, not as a caution, but for kindness. And they
awoke at peep of day, and bade one another good morning, each in his own
language.
In this manner, Bellerophon and the wondrous steed spent several days,
and grew better acquainted and fonder of each other all the time. They
went on long aërial journeys, and sometimes ascended so high that the
earth looked hardly bigger than—the moon. They visited distant countries,
and amazed the inhabitants, who thought that the beautiful young man,
on the back of the winged horse, must have come down out of the sky. A
thousand miles a day was no more than an easy space for the fleet Pegasus
to pass over. Bellerophon was delighted with this kind of life, and would
have liked nothing better than to live always in the same way, aloft in
the clear atmosphere; for it was always sunny weather up there, however
cheerless and rainy it might be in the lower region. But he could not
forget the horrible Chimæra, which he had promised King Iobates to slay.
So, at last, when he had become well accustomed to feats of horsemanship
in the air, and could manage Pegasus with the least motion of his hand,
and had taught him to obey his voice, he determined to attempt the
performance of this perilous adventure.
At daybreak, therefore, as soon as he unclosed his eyes, he gently
pinched the winged horse’s ear, in order to arouse him. Pegasus
immediately started from the ground, and pranced about a quarter of a
mile aloft, and made a grand sweep around the mountain-top, by way of
showing that he was wide awake, and ready for any kind of an excursion.
During the whole of this little flight, he uttered a loud, brisk, and
melodious neigh, and finally came down at Bellerophon’s side, as lightly
as ever you saw a sparrow hop upon a twig.
“Well done, dear Pegasus! well done, my sky-skimmer!” cried Bellerophon,
fondly stroking the horse’s neck. “And now, my fleet and beautiful
friend, we must break our fast. To-day we are to fight the terrible
Chimæra.”
As soon as they had eaten their morning meal, and drank some sparkling
water from a spring called Hippocrene, Pegasus held out his head, of
his own accord, so that his master might put on the bridle. Then with a
great many playful leaps and airy caperings, he showed his impatience
to be gone; while Bellerophon was girding on his sword, and hanging his
shield about his neck, and preparing himself for battle. When everything
was ready, the rider mounted, and (as was his custom, when going a long
distance) ascended five miles perpendicularly, so as the better to see
whither he was directing his course. He then turned the head of Pegasus
toward the east, and set out for Lycia. In their flight they overtook an
eagle, and came so nigh him, before he could get out of their way, that
Bellerophon might easily have caught him by the leg. Hastening onward at
this rate, it was still early in the forenoon when they beheld the lofty
mountains of Lycia, with their deep and shaggy valleys. If Bellerophon
had been told truly, it was in one of those dismal valleys that the
hideous Chimæra had taken up its abode.
Being now so near their journey’s end, the winged horse gradually
descended with his rider; and they took advantage of some clouds that
were floating over the mountain-tops, in order to conceal themselves.
Hovering on the upper surface of a cloud, and peeping over its edge,
Bellerophon had a pretty distinct view of the mountainous part of Lycia,
and could look into all its shadowy vales at once. At first there
appeared to be nothing remarkable. It was a wild, savage, and rocky tract
of high and precipitous hills. In the more level part of the country,
there were the ruins of houses that had been burned, and, here and there,
the carcasses of dead cattle, strewn about the pastures where they had
been feeding.
“The Chimæra must have done this mischief,” thought Bellerophon. “But
where can the monster be?”