Part 46

Then Poseidon let loose the waters of the sea, and they rushed in over the Libyan plains till only the hills which shut it in remained above them, and a mighty monster came forth and devoured all the fruits of the land. In grief and terror the people fell down before my father, Kepheus, and he sent to the home of Ammon to ask what he should do for the plague of waters and for the savage beast who vexed them; and soon the answer came that he must chain up his daughter on a rock, till the beast came and took her for his prey. So they fastened me here to this desolate crag, and each day the monster comes nearer as the waters rise; and soon, I think, they will place me within his reach." Then Perseus cheered her with kindly words, and said, "Maiden, I am Perseus, to whom Zeus has given the power to do great things. I hold in my hand the sword of Hermes, which has slain the Gorgon Medusa, and I am bearing to Polydektes, who rules in Seriphos, the head which turns all who look on it into stone. Fear not, then, Andromeda. I will do battle with the monster, and, when thy foes are vanquished, I will sue for the boon of thy love." A soft blush as of great gladness came over the pale cheek of Andromeda, as she answered, "O Perseus, why should I hide from thee my joy? Thou hast come to me like the light of the morning when it breaks on a woeful night." But, even as she spake, the rage of the waves waxed greater, and the waters rose higher and higher, lashing the rocks in their fury, and the hollow roar of the monster was heard as he hastened to seize his prey. Presently by the maiden's side he saw a glorious form with the flashing sword in his hand, and he lashed the waters in fiercer anger. Then Perseus went forth to meet him, and he held aloft the sword which Hermes gave to him, and said, "Sword of Phoebus, let thy stroke be sure, for thou smitest the enemy of the helpless." So the sword fell, and the blood of the mighty beast reddened the waters of the green sea.

[Illustration: EUTERPE (_Muse of Pleasure_).]

In gladness of heart Perseus led the maiden to the halls of Kepheus, and said, "O King, I have slain the monster to whom thou didst give thy child for a prey; let her go with me now to other lands, if she gainsay me not." But Kepheus answered, "Tarry with us yet a while, and the marriage feast shall be made ready, if indeed thou must hasten away from the Libyan land." So, at the banquet, by the side of Perseus sate the beautiful Andromeda; but there arose a fierce strife, for Phineus had come to the feast, and it angered him that another should have for his wife the maiden whom he had sought to make his bride. Deeper and fiercer grew his rage, as he looked on the face of Perseus, till at last he spake evil words of the stranger who had taken away the prize which should have been his own. But Perseus said, calmly, "Why, then, didst thou not slay the monster thyself and set the maiden free?" When Phineus heard these words his rage almost choked him, and he charged his people to draw their swords and slay Perseus. Wildly rose the din in the banquet hall, but Perseus unveiled the Gorgon's face, and Phineus and all his people were frozen into stone.

Then, in the still silence, Perseus bare away Andromeda from her father's home, and when they had wandered through many lands they came at length to Seriphos. Once more Danae looked on the face of her son, and said, "My child, the months have rolled wearily since I bade thee farewell; but sure I am that my prayer has been heard, for thy face is as the face of one who comes back a conqueror from battle." Then Perseus said, "Yes, my mother, the help of Zeus has never failed me. When the eastern breeze carried me hence to the Argive land, my heart was full of sorrow, because I saw the city which thou didst yearn to see, and the home which thou couldst not enter, and I vowed a vow to bring thee back in triumph when I came to claim my birthright.

That evening, as I slept, the lady Athene came to me from the home of Zeus, and gave me a mirror so that I might take the Gorgon's head without looking on the face which turns everything into stone, and yet another night, Hermes stood before me, and gave me the sword whose stroke never fails, and the Graiai told me where I should find the nymphs who gave me the helmet of Hades, and the bag which has borne hither the Gorgon's head, and the golden sandals which have carried me like a dream over land and sea. O, my mother, I have done wondrous things by the aid of Zeus. By me the doom of Medusa has been accomplished, and I think that the words which thou didst speak were true, for the image of the Gorgon's face, which I saw in Athene's mirror, was as the countenance of one whose beauty has been marred by a woeful agony, and whenever I have looked since on that image, it has seemed to me as though it wore the look of one who rested in death from a mighty pain. So, as the giant Atlas looked on that grief-stricken brow, he felt no more the weight of the heaven as it rested on him, and the gray hair which streamed from his head seemed to me, when I left him, like the snow which clothes the mountain-tops in winter. So, when from the happy gardens of the Hyperboreans I came to the rich Libyan plain, and had killed the monster who sought to slay Andromeda, the Gorgon's face turned Phineus and his people into stone, when they sought to slay me because I had won her love." Then Danae answered the questions of Perseus, and told him how Polydektes had vexed her with his evil words, and how Diktys alone had shielded her from his brother. And Perseus bade Danae be of good cheer, because the recompense of Polydektes was nigh at hand.

There was joy and feasting in Seriphos when the news was spread abroad that Perseus had brought back for the King the head of the Gorgon Medusa, and Polydektes made a great feast, and the wine sparkled in the goblets as the minstrels sang of the great deeds of the son of Danae. Then Perseus told him of all that Hermes and Athene had done for him. He showed them the helmet of Hades, and the golden sandals, and the unerring sword, and then he unveiled the face of Medusa before Polydektes and the men who had aided him against his mother, Danae. So Perseus looked upon them, as they sat at the rich banquet, stiff and cold as a stone, and he felt that his mighty work was ended. Then, at his prayer, came Hermes, the messenger of Zeus, and Perseus gave him back the helmet of Hades, and the sword which had slain the Gorgon, and the sandals which had borne him through the air like a dream. And Hermes gave the helmet again to Hades, and the sandals to the Ocean nymphs, but Athene took the Gorgon's head, and it was placed upon her shield.

Then Perseus spake to Danae, and said, "My mother, it is time for thee to go home. The Gorgon's face has turned Polydektes and his people into stone, and Diktys rules in Seriphos." So once more the white sails were filled with the eastern breeze, and Danae saw once more the Argive land. From city to city spread the tidings that Perseus was come, who had slain the Gorgon, and the youths and maidens sang "Io Paian," as they led the conqueror to the halls of Akrisios.

AKRISIOS.

The shouts of "Io Paian" reached the ear of Akrisios, as he sat in his lonely hall, marveling at the strange things which must have happened to waken the sounds of joy and triumph; for, since the day when Danae was cast forth with her babe on the raging waters, the glory of war had departed from Argos, and it seemed as though all the chieftains had lost their ancient strength and courage. But the wonder of Akrisios was changed to a great fear when they told him that his child, Danae, was coming home, and that the hero, Perseus, had rescued her from Polydektes, the King of Seriphos. The memory of all the wrong which he had done to his daughter tormented him, and still in his mind dwelt the words of warning which came from Phoebus Apollo that he should one day be slain by the hands of her son; so that, as he looked forth on the sky, it seemed to him as though he should see the sun again no more.

In haste and terror Akrisios fled from his home. He tarried not to hear the voice of Danae, he stayed not to look on the face of Perseus, nor to see that the hero who had slain the Gorgon bore him no malice for the wrongs of the former days. Quickly he sped over hill and dale, across river and forest, till he came to the house of Teutamidas, the great chieftain who ruled in Larissa.

The feast was spread in the banquet-hall, and the Thessalian minstrels sang of the brave deeds of Perseus, for even thither had his fame reached already. They told how from the land of toiling men he had passed to the country of the Graiai and the Gorgons, how he had slain the mortal Medusa and stiffened the giant Atlas into stone, and then they sang how, with the sword of Hermes, he smote the mighty beast which ravaged the Libyan land, and won Andromeda to be his bride. Then Teutamidas spake, and said, "My friend, I envy thee for thy happy lot, for not often in the world of men may fathers reap such glory from their children as thou hast won from Perseus. In the ages to come men shall love to tell of his great and good deeds, and from him shall spring mighty chieftains, who shall be stirred up to a purer courage when they remember how Perseus toiled and triumphed before them. And now tell me, friend, wherefore thou hast come hither. Thy cheek is pale, and thy hand trembles, but I think not that it can be from the weight of years, for thy old age is yet but green, and thou mayest hope still to see the children of Perseus clustering around thy knees."

But Akrisios could scarcely answer for shame and fear; for he cared not to tell Teutamidas of the wrongs which he had done to Danae. So he said, hastily, that he had fled from a great danger, for the warning of Phoebus was that he should be slain by his daughter's son. And Teutamidas said, "Has thy daughter yet another son?" And then Akrisios was forced to own that he had fled from the hero, Perseus. But the face of Teutamidas flushed with anger as he said, "O shame, that thou shouldst flee from him who ought to be thy glory and thy pride! Everywhere men speak of the goodness and the truth of Perseus, and I will not believe that he bears thee a grudge for anything that thou hast done to him. Nay, thou doest to him a more grievous wrong in shunning him now than when thou didst cast him forth in his mother's arms upon the angry sea." So he pleaded with Akrisios for Perseus, until he spoke the word that Danae and her child might come to the great games which were to be held on the plain before Larissa.

With shouts of "Io Paian" the youths and maidens went out before Perseus as he passed from the city of Akrisios to go to Larissa, and everywhere as he journeyed the people came forth from town and village to greet the bright hero and the beautiful Andromeda, whom he had saved from the Libyan dragon. Onwards they went, spreading gladness everywhere, till the cold heart of Akrisios himself was touched with a feeling of strange joy, as he saw the band of youths and maidens who came before them to the house of Teutamidas. So once more his child Danae stood before him, beautiful still, although the sorrows of twenty years had dimmed the brightness of her eye, and the merry laugh of her youth was gone. Once more he looked on the face of Perseus, and he listened to the kindly greeting of the hero whom he had wronged in the days of his helpless childhood. But he marveled yet more at the beauty of Andromeda, and he thought within himself that throughout the wide earth were none so fair as Perseus and the wife whom he had won with the sword of Hermes.

Then, as they looked on the chiefs who strove together in the games, the shouting of the crowd told at the end of each that Perseus was the conqueror. At last they stood forth to see which should have most strength of arm in hurling the quoit; and, when Perseus aimed at the mark, the quoit swerved aside and smote Akrisios on the head, and the warning of Phoebus Apollo was accomplished.

Great was the sorrow of Teutamidas and his people as the chieftain of Argos lay dead before them; but deeper still and more bitter was the grief of Perseus for the deed which he had unwittingly done, and he said, "O Zeus, I have striven to keep my hands clean and to deal truly, and a hard recompense hast thou given me."

So they went back mourning to Argos, but although he strove heartily to rule his people well, the grief of Perseus could not be lessened while he remained in the house of Akrisios. So he sent a messenger to his kinsman, Megapenthes, who ruled at Tiryns, and said, "Come thou and rule in Argos, and I will go and dwell among thy people." So Perseus dwelt at Tiryns, and the men of the city rejoiced that he had come to rule over them. Thus the months and years went quickly by, as Perseus strove with all his might to make his people happy and to guard them against their enemies. At his bidding, the Cyclopes came from the far-off Lykian land, and built the mighty walls which gird the city round about; and they helped him to build yet another city, which grew in after-times to be even greater and mightier than Tiryns. So rose the walls of Mykenæ, and there, too, the people loved and honored Perseus for his just dealing more than for all the deeds which he had done with the sword of Hermes. At last the time came when the hero must rest from his long toil, but as they looked on his face, bright and beautiful even in death, the minstrels said, "We shall hear his voice no more, but the name of Perseus shall never die."

KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS.

Of all the maidens in the land of Attica none was so beautiful as Prokris, the daughter of King Erechtheus. She was the delight of her father's heart, not so much for her beauty as for her goodness and her gentleness. The sight of her fair face and the sound of her happy voice brought gladness to all who saw and heard her. Every one stopped to listen to the songs which she sang as she sat working busily at the loom, and the maidens who dwelt with her were glad when the hour came to go with Prokris and wash their clothes or draw water from the fountain. Then, when all her tasks were ended, she would roam over hill and valley, into every nook and dell. There was no spot in all the land where Prokris had not been. She lay down to rest in the top of the highest hills, or by the side of the stream where it murmured among the rocks far down in the woody glen. So passed her days away; and while all loved her and rejoiced to see her face, only Prokris knew not of her own beauty, and thought not of her own goodness. But they amongst whom she lived, the old and the young, the sorrowful and happy, all said that Prokris, the child of Herse, was always as fair and bright as the dew of early morning.

[Illustration: THALIA (_Muse of Comedy_).]

Once in her many wanderings she had climbed the heights of Mount Hymettos, almost before the first streak of dawn was seen in the sky. Far away, as she looked over the blue sea, her eyes rested on the glittering cliffs of Euboea, and she looked and saw that a ship was sailing towards the shore beneath the hill of Hymettos. Presently it reached the shore, and she could see that a man stepped out of the ship, and began to climb the hill, while the rest remained on the beach. As he came nearer to her, Prokris knew that his face was very fair, and she thought that she had never seen such beauty in mortal man before. She had heard that sometimes the gods come down from their home on Olympos to mingle among the children of men, and that sometimes the bright heroes were seen in the places where they had lived on the earth before they were taken to dwell in the halls of Zeus. As the stranger came near to her the sun rose brightly and without a cloud from the dark sea, and its light fell on his face, and made it gleam with more than mortal beauty. Gently he came towards her, and said, "Lady, I am come from the far-off eastern land, and as I drew near to this shore I saw that some one was resting here upon the hill. So I hastened to leave the ship that I might learn the name of the country which I have reached. My name is Kephalos, and my father, Helios, lives in a beautiful home beyond the sea, but I am traveling over the earth, till I shall have gone over every land and seen all the cities which men have built. Tell me now thy name, and the name of this fair land." Then she said, "Stranger, my name is Prokris, and I am the daughter of King Erechtheus, who dwells at Athens yonder, where thou seest the bright line of Kephisos flowing gently into the sea." So Prokris guided the stranger to her father's house, and Erechtheus received him kindly, and spread a banquet before him. But as they feasted and drank the dark red wine, he thought almost that Kephalos must be one of the bright heroes come back to his own land, so fair and beautiful was he to look upon, and that none save only his own child, Prokris, might be compared to him for beauty.

Long time Kephalos abode in the house of Erechtheus, and, each day, he loved more and more the bright and happy Prokris; and Prokris became brighter and happier, as the eye of Kephalos rested gently and lovingly upon her. At last Kephalos told her of his love, and Erechtheus gave him his child to be his wife, and there were none in all the land who dwelt together in a love so deep and pure as that of Kephalos and Prokris.

But among the maidens of that land there was one who was named Eos. She, too, was fair and beautiful, but she had not the gentle spirit and the guileless heart of Prokris. Whenever Kephalos wandered forth with his young wife, then Eos would seek to follow them stealthily, or, if she met them by chance, she would suffer her eyes to rest long on the fair face of Kephalos, till she began to envy the happiness of Prokris. And so one day, when there was a feast of the people of the land, and the maidens danced on the soft grass around the fountain, Kephalos and Eos talked together, and Eos suffered herself to be carried away by her evil love. From that day she sought more and more to talk with Kephalos, till at last she bowed her head before him and told him softly of her love. But Kephalos said to her, gently, "Maiden, thou art fair to look upon, and there are others who may love thee well, and thou deservest the love of any. But I may not leave Prokris, whom Erechtheus has given to me to be my wife. Forgive me, maiden, if Prokris appear to me even fairer than thou art; but I prize her gentleness more than her beauty, and Prokris, with her pure love and guileless heart, shall be always dearer to me than any other in all the wide earth." Then Eos answered him craftily, "O Kephalos, thou hast suffered thyself to be deceived. Prokris loves thee not as I do; prove her love and thou shalt see that I have spoken truly."

Thus Eos spoke to him for many days, and the great happiness of his life was marred, for the words of Eos would come back to his mind, as he looked on the happy and guileless Prokris. He had begun to doubt whether she were in very deed so pure and good as she seemed to be, and at last he said to Eos that he would prove her love. Then Eos told him how to do so, and said that if he came before his wife as a stranger and brought to her rich gifts, as from a distant land, she would forget her love for Kephalos.

With a heavy heart he went away, for he foreboded evil days from the subtle words of Eos, and he departed and dwelt in another land. So the time passed on, until many weeks and months had gone by, and Prokris mourned and wept in the house of Erechtheus, until the brightness of her eye was dimmed and her voice had lost its gladness. Day after day she sought throughout all the land for Kephalos, day after day she went up the hill of Hymettos, and as she looked towards the sea, she said, "Surely he will come back again; ah, Kephalos, thou knowest not the love which thou hast forsaken." Thus she pined away in her sorrow, although to all who were around her she was as gentle and as loving as ever. Her father was now old and weak, and he knew that he must soon die, but it grieved him most of all that he must leave his child in a grief more bitter than if Kephalos had remained to comfort her. So Erechtheus died, and the people honored him as one of the heroes of the land, but Prokris remained in his house desolate, and all who saw her pitied her for her true love and her deep sorrow. At last she felt that Kephalos would return no more, and that she could no more be happy until she went to her father in the bright home of the heroes and the gods.