In Arcadia there is a little mountain stream called Alpheus. It flows
through woods and meadows and among the hills for many miles, and then
it sinks beneath the rocks. Farther down the valley it rises again,
and dancing and sparkling, as if in happy chase of something, it
hurries onward towards the plain; but soon it hides itself a second
time in underground caverns, making its way through rocky tunnels where
the light of day has never been. Then at last it gushes once more from
its prison chambers; and, flowing thence with many windings through the
fields of Elis, it empties its waters into the sea.
Years ago there was no river Alpheus; the channel through which it
flows had not then been hollowed out, and rank grass and tall bending
reeds grew thick where now its waters sparkle brightest. It was then
that a huntsman, bearing the name of Alpheus, ranged through the woods,
and chased the wild deer among the glades and glens of sweet Arcadia.
Far away by the lonely sea dwelt his fair young wife, and his lovely
babe Orsilochus; but dearer than home or wife or babe to Alpheus, was
the free life of the huntsman among the mountain solitudes. For he
loved the woods and the blue sky and the singing birds, and the frail
flowers upon the hillside; and he longed to live among them always,
where his ears could listen to their music, and his eyes look upon
their beauty.
"O Artemis, huntress queen!" he cried, "I ask but one boon of thee.
Let me ramble forever among these happy scenes!"
Artemis heard him, and answered his prayer. For, as he spoke, a bright
vision passed before him. A sweet-faced maiden went tripping down the
valley, culling the choicest flowers, and singing of hope and joy and
the blessedness of a life pure and true. It was Arethusa, the Arcadian
nymph, by some supposed to be a daughter of old Nereus, the elder of
the sea.
Then Alpheus heard no more the songs of the birds, or the music of the
breeze; he saw no longer the blue sky above him, or the nodding flowers
at his feet: he was blind and deaf to all the world, save only the
beautiful nymph. Arethusa was the world to him.
He reached out his arms to catch her; but, swifter than a frightened
deer, she fled down the valley, through deep ravines and grassy glades
and rocky caverns underneath the hills, and out into the grassy
meadows, and across the plains of Elis, to the sounding sea. And
Alpheus followed, forgetful of everything but the fleeing vision.
When, at length, he reached the sea, he looked back; and, lo! he was no
longer a huntsman, but a river doomed to meander forever among the
scenes, for love of which he had forgotten his wife and his babe and
the duties of life. It was thus that Artemis answered his prayer.
And men say that Arethusa, the nymph, was afterwards changed into a
fountain; and that to this day, in the far-off island of Ortygia, that
fountain gushes from the rocks in an unfailing, crystal stream. But
Orsilochus, the babe forgotten by his father, grew to manhood, and in
course of time became the king of the seafaring people of Messene.