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MYTHOLOGY 
 
 POETRY AND PROSE 
 
 BY 
 HARRY LORENZO CHAPIN, M. D. 
 
 THE SHAKESPEARE PRESS 
 
 410 East 32nd Street 
 
 New York 
 
 1917 
 
^\ 
 
 
 Copyright 1917 
 By Anna Fries Chapin 
 
 DEC 21 1917 
 
INDEX 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Soul of the Sun, Poem 3 
 
 "Good Bye, Paul" 5 
 
 What Is Mythology? Part 1 17 
 
 What Is Mythology? Part II 27 
 
 Roman Divinities and Superstitions 34 
 
 Names Derived From Mythology 47 
 
 The Wanderings of Ulysses 50 
 
 The Waiderings of iEneas 75 
 
 Jason and the Golden Fleece 90 
 
 Recorded History 97 
 
 Norse, German and Aryan Mythology 103 
 
 The Adventures of iEneas 116 
 
 Roland, King Arthur and the Holy Grail 129 
 
 Jupiter and Juno 131 
 
 Venus 134 
 
 Lesser Divinities 138 
 
 Adonis 141 
 
 Psyche 143 
 
 Mars or Aries, the God of War 156 
 
 The Significance of Hercules 162 
 
 The Pleiads 165 
 
 The Rape of Proserpine 168 
 
 Hecate and Hebe 173 
 
 (3) 
 
PAGE 
 
 Persues and Medusa 181 
 
 Pyramus and Thisbe 183 
 
 Lucretia Collatinus 188 
 
 Acteon's Aggressiveness 202 
 
 Admetis and Alcelsis 204 
 
 (Edipus, the King 212 
 
 Other Short Mythological Articles 219 
 
 Heaven (Poem by Anna M. Fries Chapin) 252 
 
 A Posthumous Daughter (Play) 256 
 
 I Am Your Innes, Dear 278 
 
 Virginia 316 
 
 Mother, Fve Come Home to Die 323 
 
 If I Were God 328 
 
 Looking Back 332 
 
 The Theist 336 
 
 Greece of Old, and Minor Poems 340 
 
 Finis 414 
 
 (4) 
 
"Good Bye, Paul" 
 
MYTHOLOGY 
 
 POETRY AND PROSE 
 
 "GOOD BYE, PAUL" 
 
 I have been inspired to write this poem by studiously 
 viewing the picture called "Breaking Family Ties," that 
 depicts and characterizes the substance and sentiment of 
 my poem, "Good Bye, Paul." I did not know the name or 
 title of the picture at the time of writing the poem, nor did 
 I remember the artist who painted it. But I realized that 
 the pathetic phase of life's melodrama he so beautifully 
 painted could not be more intelligently expressed with lim- 
 ner's brush. I have since learned the picture is called 
 "Breaking Family Ties," but I have not changed the orig- 
 inal title of my poem, still leaving it, "Good Bye, Paul." 
 The accompanying picture is the artist's conception ot 
 "Good Bye, Paul," after perusing the poem. This was my 
 last resource for illustration after being refused permission 
 to reproduce "Breaking Family Ties." 
 
 I have understood the artist was inspired by the story's 
 reality. Whether that is a fact or not, I cannot say. But in 
 my opinion, there is little doubt but what this heart-rending 
 scene has occurred many times in the irrevocable past, and 
 will possibly occur many more times in the inevitable future. 
 
 The painting is of a boy who has arrived at the age of 
 thirteen years, and one who has been born and reared to that 
 age on a small farm in a lonely rural district. After several 
 
6 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 of his boy friends had gone to the city and had written to 
 him how glorious it was to live in the city, and how much 
 more entrancing the girls were, and their stylish vogue in 
 dressing, etc., Paul became discontented with his surround- 
 ings and country life. He informs his father and mother 
 that he is dissatisfied, and that he is going to the city to 
 gain both fame and fortune, besides to grow up and mingle 
 with those who have fastidious tastes, and are vivacious 
 and full of life. His parents having no other child, they 
 have always babied him and let him have his own way, 
 even to this, as reluctant as they were and as impossible as 
 it seemed to them, they could not remonstrate and veto the 
 boy's contemplated pleasure. 
 
 After informing him he may go, the mother packs his 
 bag and also packs a shoe box with a lunch for him to eat 
 o'n his journey. The boy has been in the habit of meeting 
 the neighbor's little daughter, the same age as himself, and 
 meandering through the lane to the woods where there is 
 an old mill, and where, though young and unsophisticated 
 as they both were, they promised each other that some day 
 they will marry, but after receiving letters from his boy 
 friends about the city, he nearly forgets his Bessie until 
 just as he is about to leave home, Bessie appears on the 
 scene. There the poor child stands almost in a state of 
 collapse. He dearly loves his mother and his father, who 
 have been so good to him; and he is all at once reminded 
 of his promise to Bessie. He has outgrown his trousers 
 and his hair is long as a country boy's hair often is. He 
 says good bye to them all, and is driven away to the station 
 by the hired man. He passes out of the yard of the coun- 
 try home, waving a last good bye to his parents and Bessie. 
 With tears flowing down his youthful cheeks, it was a sad 
 good bye, because it was a last good bye, for this brave little 
 fellow died in a short while of tuberculosis of the lungs, 
 far away from those he loved and those who loved him. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 
 
 GOOD BYE, PAUL 
 
 "Good Bye, Paul ! 
 
 If such has got to be, 
 Good Bye, Good Bye, my boy! 
 
 Now you are leaving me. 
 
 "My boy, you're leaving home 
 
 To run the world about, 
 But remember this, my son, 
 
 The latch-string's always out. 
 
 "I know this country life, 
 Out here for you is slow, 
 
 It isn't mother and I — 
 
 It's that which makes you go. 
 
 "But, child, just think of me, 
 
 And mother — the world's so cold 
 
 You'll leave us all alone, 
 Now we have grown old. 
 
 "We need you here, dear boy, 
 
 Of us you are a part; 
 We love you — you are all, 
 
 To go will break my heart. 
 
 "The nights will be so sad, 
 The days will be so long, 
 
 Our food won't taste as good 
 When you are gone. 
 
 "I've labored all my life, 
 
 I've laid every stick and stone, 
 
 In this little farm and house, 
 That we call home. 
 
8 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 "I brought your mother here 
 When young and hair a-curl ; 
 
 It seems like yesterday, 
 When she was but a girl. 
 
 "Two objects in our mind, 
 Since we were made as one : 
 
 We worked to make a home, 
 We prayed for you, my son. 
 
 "The path was rough and long, 
 With sickness to retard, 
 
 Our suffering for what we won, 
 Makes the parting hard. 
 
 "Look up, dear boy, see mother, 
 To have you go she fears, 
 
 Look ! Ah, mother ! Mother ! 
 Mother shedding tears. 
 
 "Stop ! Stop that, mother. 
 
 See, Paul, it affects her so. 
 O ! mother, mother, mother, 
 
 How can we let him go ! 
 
 "There, boy, you see how mother 
 Is going to miss her child. 
 
 See her weeping, see those tears, 
 Why, Paul, she'll go wild ! 
 
 "Yes, go wild, more than wild, 
 
 Mad ! Mad for you, my baby boy- 
 Come to my arms, God bless you, 
 You my love, my joy! 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 
 
 ''Better if I had never had you 
 For then we could not part ; 
 
 For now your going from me 
 Will break my heart. 
 
 "Not alone you're going Paul, 
 But the ship with sails unfurled 
 
 Will carry you far from me, Paul, 
 Into the cold, wicked world. 
 
 "And my sorrow will be doubled then 
 
 How can I ever tell, 
 When you are far away, Paul, 
 
 Whether you're sick or well ? 
 
 "And, baby boy, how can I know? 
 
 Though you have understood 
 The teachings we have given you, 
 
 And told you to be good. 
 
 "And you so young, the world so old, 
 With temptations waiting, too, 
 
 Enthral my flesh and blood, my own — 
 This it's apt to do. 
 
 "Many boys have gone astray 
 By leaving home so young, 
 
 They had no one to guide them right, 
 When from their mothers wrung. 
 
 "The sun won't shine as bright, Paul, 
 The sky won't seem as blue ; 
 
 My flowers won't bloom as sweetly 
 As they did when I had you. 
 
io MYTHOLOGY 
 
 "The birds will make me cry, Paul, 
 The fields will make me rave ; 
 
 Your bed, your room, and unused plate, 
 Will seem a vacant grave." 
 
 "But, mother, think of other boys, 
 
 Out in the world at ten, 
 That's done as I am now to do 
 
 And got to be great men ! 
 
 "Garfield, Lincoln and others 
 That I can't just now name, 
 
 But they left home when only boys, 
 And acquired both wealth and fame. 
 
 "What choice have I here, mother, 
 
 Dark prospects it allows, 
 I only see cows, horses and pigs, 
 
 Pigs, horses and cows. 
 
 "The very best I can do, 
 
 Is to do as you and father done, 
 
 Though I succeed the same as you 
 
 I'm still a farmer and a farmer's son." 
 
 "But, dear child" — "No, no, mother, 
 
 You thought aloud, 
 I know what you just thought, 
 
 No, no; of you both I'm proud. 
 
 "But, mother, you must concede, 
 
 That times have changed, 
 'Tis country born and city bred, 
 
 It seems fate has arranged. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE n 
 
 "I want to see, I want to know, 
 
 What others know and see, 
 And what they have, I want to have, 
 
 As they I want to be." 
 
 "But, darling boy, you're but a child." 
 
 "Yes, mother, such I will remain, 
 If I instead of glowing streets, 
 
 Only walk our lonely lane. 
 
 "There's Henry Smith and Tommy Jones, 
 When young they both left home ; 
 
 They say all their ways lead to fame, 
 As all roads lead to Rome. 
 
 "And all that I have need to do, 
 
 Is to go and do as they, 
 And not stay on this lonely farm, 
 
 And grow corn, oats and hay. 
 
 "Father, father, why do you smile? 
 
 Why laugh at what I say? 
 And mother, too, you smile the same, 
 
 Why can't I do as they?" 
 
 "Yes, my boy, they went away, 
 
 But there your logic ends ; 
 They lived with other relatives, 
 
 They made their home with friends. 
 
 "But you, a green country boy, 
 
 Young, weak and frail, 
 Where one in your case succeeds, 
 
 A million others fail. 
 
12 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 "The ratio is too great, too great, 
 Though you were that one. 
 
 It leaves poor mother and I alone, 
 Besides the risk we run. 
 
 "O, Paul, don't go, please don't go ! 
 
 When mother and I are through, 
 The home and farm and all the stock 
 
 Will fall to you. 
 
 "Then, there's Bessie across the way. 
 
 What will that dear child do? 
 Why, Paul, I thought you cared for her, 
 
 I know she cares for you." 
 
 "Yes, yes, but she's a country girl, 
 
 Henry has been telling me 
 Of the girl he has and of her clothes, 
 
 That I must wait and see. 
 
 "He says I wouldn't want Bessie then, 
 For she don't dance and skate, 
 
 And ride in autos and do everything, 
 He said 'Don't promise, you wait.' 
 
 "O! Mother, mother, what makes you cry? 
 
 How your tears do flow ; 
 If you and papa go on this way, 
 
 How can I from you go? 
 
 "As you just said, I'm young and frail, 
 And to leave you feeling so, 
 
 Why mama, boohoo, boohoo, boohoo ! 
 How can I ever go! 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 13 
 
 "That won't help me on my way; 
 
 You'll have to do your part, 
 Just let me go, thus all be brave, 
 
 Your crying will break my heart." 
 
 There's Bessie now, she's at the door, 
 
 Come in, Bessie, come in, 
 You're just in time to say good bye, 
 
 In a while too late you'd been. 
 
 "Paul's going to leave us all, dear girl, 
 
 He's tired of country life, 
 He's going to mix with city folk, 
 
 And have a city wife." 
 
 "Ma's joking, Bessie; a city wife, 
 
 'Twas never in my mind, 
 I'm only going to learn and know, 
 
 And not a wife to find." 
 
 "Yes, Paul, but you won't need to find, 
 
 They'll find, when you're from us, 
 In the city, girls are everywhere, 
 
 They're ubiquitous." 
 
 "Bessie, why are you so quiet? 
 
 Why do you droop your head? 
 Do you fear you'll never meet again, 
 
 That he'll another wed?" 
 
 "I'm disappointed, that is all, 
 
 That's all that I can say, 
 If he cared for me as he said he did, 
 
 He would not go away. 
 
14 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 "All I can do is say good bye, 
 
 For his will to go is set, 
 And here I'll have to stay at home, 
 
 To live and to forget. 
 
 "Paul won't never care for me, 
 
 If he does return, 
 When he sees the city girls, 
 
 For me he'll never yearn. 
 
 "So good bye, Paul, good bye, good bye, 
 
 Since this step you take, 
 A pleasant thought, if not for love, 
 
 At least for 'old time's sake.' " 
 
 "The promise I gave you in the wood, 
 Last June by the old sawmill, 
 
 I'll wait for your return to me, 
 And your promise to fulfill." 
 
 "Yes, Bessie, that you know I'll do, 
 Though parting may seem strange, 
 
 Though I grow to manhood and to fame, 
 My love for you won't change." 
 
 "My hopes are faded now and dark, 
 
 You say it all too well, 
 Years won't speak till they have passed, 
 
 Then truth they always tell." 
 
 And there Paul stands in bewilderment, 
 
 Only these four alone. 
 Satchel in hand his mother packed, 
 
 With trousers he has outgrown. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 15 
 
 In a shoe box mother packed his lunch, 
 
 To eat upon the train, 
 His first away and last from home, 
 
 He'll ever have again. 
 
 The time has come, ah, yes, the hour, 
 
 Outside they hear a call, 
 "Come on, just time to make the train, 
 
 Come on aboard, ye all." 
 
 This is the moment that tries the heart, 
 
 And the hardest word to say, 
 Is the last good bye when loved ones part, 
 
 That tears the flesh away. 
 
 And when your own, though heart is stout, 
 
 Your eyes with tears will fill, 
 It seems the sun's been blown out, 
 
 And the world is standing still. 
 
 And that's the way they felt just now, 
 When they heard the hired man call ; 
 
 At first they choked in mournful bow, 
 They could not speak at all. 
 
 The first to speak when she could speak, 
 
 Was mother to say farewell, 
 And then the father, voice trembling weak, 
 
 With Bessie broke the spell. 
 
 "Good bye, my darling," rang mother's voice, 
 
 Father's, "Good bye, my son," 
 Bessie said, "Good bye, my choice," 
 
 Together they spoke as one. 
 
16 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Mother took his hand in hers, 
 
 Father took the other, 
 Bessie cried, her heart it stirs, 
 
 To hear Paul murmur "Mother." 
 
 "Mother, mother!" "My boy, dear boy, 
 My child, good bye, good bye," 
 
 These smothered words o'er this "toy," 
 Sworn to a shrieking cry. 
 
 The tears rolled down his youthful cheek, 
 As they told him they would pray 
 
 For him each day of every week, 
 As he turned and walked away. 
 
 And out he went, and on he went, 
 As they waved their parting sigh, 
 
 Words from heaven must be sent, 
 To express this last good bye. 
 
 For the poverty of the English verse, 
 Won't tell their feelings; save, 
 
 That carriage was to them a hearse, 
 That journey was his grave! 
 
 Not like the sun that goes around, 
 To make both night and day, 
 
 It sinks to rise and light our ground ; 
 This took their light away. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 17 
 
 WHAT IS MYTHOLOGY? 
 Parti 
 
 There are three phases of history, i. e., the unknown, 
 mythological and chronological or recorded historical 
 events. 
 
 There is a great difference between myth and fable. Fable 
 is a story propagated by some ancient poet or writer to 
 supplement and accentuate some traditional myth, or event 
 painted with all the glamoring shades of superstition. 
 
 Mythology is only in reality a part mythology. For in- 
 stance, the Trojan War, or the War of the Seven against 
 Thebes, et cetera. The great heroes who took part were in 
 those days of superstition supposed to have been aided to 
 victory or degraded to defeat by some heavenly deity or 
 god or goddess immortal. As for instance, the armor of 
 Achilles was smithed by Vulcan, the heavenly blacksmith, 
 his anvil being Mount Etna ; the fire was the volcanic flame 
 from the bowels of the earth and his bellows undoubtedly 
 was furnished by Zephyr, or some one of the four winds. 
 Of course, such armor would be invulnerable to mortal 
 weapons. Achilles being successful over Hector, it was 
 sung in poetry and legend that he was aided by some super- 
 human agency. 
 
 It is related in the N^ibelungenlied that Siegfried bathed 
 in the Hydra's blood to make himself impervious to mortal 
 wounds, but while he was bathing a leaf from boughs above 
 fell on his back, and that part being shielded from immortal 
 embrocation, of course, remained mortal, and consequently 
 this spot remaining vulnerable to the sword, brought about 
 his death. 
 
 The same with Achilles' heel that his heavenly mother, 
 Thetis, held him by when he was submerged in the River 
 Styx. It is related that Paris shot the arrow while he was 
 
18 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 at worship, for, if accounts are true, he was not the kind 
 that turned from his adversary and fled, thus exposing his 
 heel to the shot of an arrow. His armor and his fleet- 
 footedness heretofore had, thru Providence, never been 
 pierced to cause his death, which at once gave rise to the 
 idea that he was immortal and could not be mortally 
 wounded except in the one spot — the heel. 
 
 The armor of those days covered the whole anterior aspect 
 of the human frame, so an arrow would have to be shot 
 into the heel, for there was no other part exposed to injury, 
 so it was the armor that had shielded him and not the River 
 Styx. If Siegfried had not kneeled to refresh himself at the 
 brook, his enemy would have had to strike while he was on 
 his feet with a chance of his shielding himself, and then 
 the leaf would have been rendered nugatory. 
 
 It is of interest to note that the great tendon of the gas- 
 trocnemius soleus and plantaris muscles of the calf of the 
 leg that is inserted in the oscalcis or heel bone has been 
 named and is called to this day in the anatomy of the human 
 subject, the tendon Achilles. 
 
 The above answer to what is a myth also might be called 
 euphemistic or exaggerated adventures of historic in- 
 dividuals as generals or heroes in wars of remote antiquity. 
 So, as above stated, myth is not all myth. It is partly a his- 
 torical fact, for no one doubts that there was a Trojan War, 
 or an QEdipus, King of Thebes. 
 
 Mythology has another phase, which if rightly interpreted 
 is not only beautiful but instructive. Lord Bacon, in his 
 "Wisdom of the Ancients, " gives the allegorical interpreta- 
 tion of mythology in a thesis that pictures symbols or gods 
 in human form to guide and control the earth, the sun and 
 the whole universe as promulgated by the ancient Greek 
 poets. He interprets them as "things" to express what we 
 of today would call the natural laws of the universe that 
 govern the destinies of the stars, the earth and of mankind. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 19 
 
 In the early days the unenlightened and superstitious 
 could readily see that the sea had great power, as well as the 
 winds and all the elements. This inspired them with the 
 idea that they moved by their own free will, which was 
 much more powerful than the human will. They invested 
 them with a personality of which they were in fear. To wor- 
 ship a deity with any degree of devotion we must recognize 
 their great power above man. They christened the personi- 
 fied elements with names that characterized strength, as of 
 great giants. As Neptune or Poisodone of the Sea, Apollo 
 or Phoebus the Sun, Thor the Thunder, Pluto, King or God 
 of the Underworld, et cetera. 
 
 There are also what might be called esthetic myths. They 
 are stories that instil in the human mind an imaginative 
 pleasure of reality. It takes us away and out of the every- 
 day routine of earth's vain secularity. They elicit emotions 
 and esthetic joy. Each nation has its folklore, its legends, 
 its ballads and myths. There are two kinds of such enter- 
 tainment, for example, iEsop's Fables should not be placed 
 in the same class with the Fables of Robin Hood, of King 
 Arthur, of Ossian, or the Welsh Triads, or the great stories 
 of mythology. It is extremely difficult, and has served as a 
 subject of controversy for literary men to establish by rea- 
 sonable conjecture where some of these wonderful and 
 beautiful stories were first composed. Of course it is rea- 
 sonable to conceive that ancient poets were the authors, but 
 with what nation or nations did they first become current? 
 Was it from the Hindus, the Greeks, or from Hebrew Scrip- 
 ture, far back in Chaldea and Phcenecia that they were per- 
 haps stolen or borrowed one from the other? One can 
 readily evolve a theological interpretation of Greek my- 
 thology in many instances. Many students of mythology 
 have cited the stories of Noah compared to Deucalion, 
 Arion to Jonah, Hercules to Samson, Tubal Cain to Mer- 
 cury, and the Dragon that kept guard over the golden apples 
 
20 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 has been compared to the serpent that tempted and be- 
 guiled Eve. The Tower of Nimrod was the Giants in- 
 vasion of Heaven after they had placed Mount Ossia on 
 Mount Pelion. There are many more that I could name, 
 but it would take too much space to record them, conse- 
 quently I will have to pass them by. It looks of logical 
 sequence that the old Greek writers knew much of the Old 
 Testament, as it is evident that the Idyls of Theocritus have 
 excerpts that have been changed to fit his wants but were 
 in a way plagiarized from the Proverbs and Psalms. 
 
 There can be no question in verity and indubitable fair- 
 ness that the Greeks were the drafters and propagators of 
 such stories as Cronus, who with his wife Rhea were the 
 father and mother God and Goddess of Time, who gave 
 birth to their children and then consumed, or in other words, 
 devoured them, which has a very preceptive philosophical 
 interpretation, i. e., Time gives birth to all things and like- 
 wise destroys all things, as Hesiod records with Cronus, 
 Oceanus, Tethys, Lapetus and Hyperion, the Great Titan 
 monsters which only represent the sea, the sun and ele- 
 ments, which were to combat with the Cyclops, which was 
 thunder and lightning. The thunder was the crushing voice 
 of the great imaginary monster and lightning was the one 
 eye he was supposed to have had ; Hecatonchires, the mon- 
 ster of multitudinous hands, was only the Ocean and its 
 dissolving waves. A great battle took place between these 
 elements, which were invested with names as tho they were 
 demon personalities in actual combat, that in the early days 
 tore the earth to fragments and rendered it almost in a 
 state of chaos; each great enemy trying to vanquish his 
 opponent to the realms of Tartarus or the subterranean 
 sulphurous hell within the earth. The battle ended between 
 Uranus and Cronus ; Cronus with his scythe was victorious ; 
 he wounded Uranus and his dripping blood grew into the 
 Furies. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 21 
 
 From this time Cronus was the great ruler of heaven and 
 earth. He is crafty and destructive and can build beautifully 
 and can disintegrate as gracefully as he can build. Before 
 "there was" was he and his Queen Rhea, who was not only 
 his queen, but sister. Their female children of paramount 
 value to the earth were Ceres, Vesta and Juno; the three 
 sons were Pluto, Jupiter and Neptune. Jupiter, the young- 
 est, who was sent to Ciete in swaddling garments and was 
 nourished by nymphs, grew to be the great immortal god 
 who reigned on Olympus, a peak of the Parnassus moun- 
 tain range in Thessaly, the seat of the Gods. His Greek 
 name was Zeus. He remonstrated with his father Cronus, 
 and a great and lasting war ensued. The Cyclops backed 
 Jupiter with their lightning. The onslaught took place; 
 Jupiter and the hundred-handed monster, with his earth- 
 quakes, were the winners of the day, and they vanquished 
 the support of Cronus to the abyss of Tartarus. 
 
 From this it was supposed that Atlas, the son of Lapetus, 
 was to hold the vault of the blue heavens on his shoulders. 
 It might be well to note that the Atlas bone, that is super- 
 imposed on the vertebrae of the neck, and supports the hu- 
 man cranium, is named from this mythological personality. 
 
 At this time the great champion of man sprang forth, 
 Prometheus by name, who went into heaven for fire for the 
 use of mankind. Jupiter would not dispense fire to mortals, 
 and it was plainly seen that Jove was in this way about to 
 create a new race on the earth, until Prometheus stepped 
 forth against the Olympian Jove, or Jupiter, to aid mankind 
 by the use of fire, purloined from heaven. But this pro- 
 voked Jupiter, the reigning god of Olympus, and he plotted, 
 or had recourse to strategy, in the form of Pandora, which 
 means the "Gift of all the Gods." Gods and Goddesses each 
 contributed something beautiful and entrancing to make 
 this Pandora, which was only a woman, overwhelmingly 
 attractive to man. One gave her beauty, another mag- 
 
22 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 netism or charm, another music, another coquetry. After 
 these gifts were tendered, she was handed down to man, who 
 at once benignantly accepted her. But in the hand of this 
 woman was placed a box that she was forbidden to scruti- 
 nize too closely, and by all means not to open. The mortals 
 were also cautioned by the immortals to keep close watch 
 over the acts of this woman, Pandora. 
 
 As it was then, it is and will be with woman. The things 
 they are cautioned not to do or see are what they are most 
 apt to experience and explore. Pandora opened the box, 
 and before she could close the cover there escaped to taunt 
 man, plagues, pestilence, disease, rheumatism, consumption, 
 cholera, gout, spite, evil eye, envy, jealousy, revenge, sa- 
 lacious lust and many other terrible things that cannot be 
 mentioned here. However, she hurriedly replaced the lid 
 in time to catch and hold one thing, and that was hope. 
 The Olympian Jove's anger was not as yet sufficiently ap- 
 peased. He bound Prometheus to a rock of the Caucasus 
 Mountains. Still Prometheus found solace in his sadness, 
 for he had a secret all to himself. He knew that in future 
 years, tho vultures were gnawing his liver and tormenting 
 him, he would be released by a powerful descendant of his 
 own theogony, whose name was Hercules.* This great forti- 
 tude in distress has made the name Prometheus a symbol 
 of endurance during the helpless experience of oppression. 
 Prometheus is significant of forethought and Epimetheus 
 afterthought, for the latter made animals with claws, beaks, 
 horns, teeth and talons, while the former made them with 
 hands, fingers and toes. The Greeks do not claim that man 
 sprang from Adam and Eve, but, on the contrary, grew out 
 of trees and rocks. Some of the ancient authors were of the 
 opinion that mortal and immortal grew out of the earth, 
 where they mingled, using the possessions of the earth in 
 
 ♦Mrs. Browning's "Prometheus Bound" or Byron's "Prometheus." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 23 
 
 common and enjoying the pleasures of society together, as 
 well as sharing the sorrows of misfortune and the deforma- 
 tion of vice, until man became so arrogant, proud and evil 
 that it became necessary for the terrestrial deities to with- 
 draw from their earthly abode, and take with them their 
 vicegerents, vassals, cabinets, courts and entire retinue to 
 heaven and Mount Olympus. At this period Prometheus 
 remade man, for he was gifted with prophecy, while his 
 brother Epimetheus had made a fiasco in his operations in 
 that direction. He had provided them with claws, wings, 
 swiftness and agility, but Prometheusf had done much 
 more, for he, by his predatory act in lighting his torch from 
 the sun, had acquired the art of using fire, and thru this 
 made a much more noble being. The significance of this 
 is obvious indeed. It is plain to see that a snake that crawls 
 or animals that burrow in the ground and absorb the car- 
 bon of the earth, and forever have their eyes riveted on the 
 earth, are of a low type of animal life, while the animal that 
 is raised on two or four legs and inhales the balmy air and 
 looks up at the sunlight, and stars and blue canopy of 
 heaven, and feeds and drinks of the ambrosia and nectarious 
 food of the gods (which was only the ozone) become more 
 spiritual and of finer texture in both body and soul. This 
 is all done by fire or heat — the sun and the air. 
 
 Man was surely improved upon thru the missions of 
 Prometheus on his transcendent flight to the chariot of the 
 sun, to light his torch therefrom and bring to the earth fire 
 to be used in commerce, science and the arts, which have 
 improved mankind. It was at this millennium that all went 
 well with the people of the earth; virtue prevailed; truth 
 was uppermost; there were no laws extant, for there was 
 no need of them ; the weapons or panoply of war was un- 
 known ; accondiments of subsistence sprang forth spon- 
 
 tShelley's "Prometheus Unbound." 
 
24 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 taneously without the husbanding hand of the gardener. 
 There was but one season and that a perpetual spring. The 
 hills had the flowers, the rivers the milk, the oak trees hived 
 the combs of honey. How beautiful must have been the 
 Golden Age! But there is always foreboding that goes 
 with affluence. There were already precursory signs of 
 an ominous change, which came in what is called the Silver 
 Age. Then great Jupiter changed the year into seasons — 
 spring, fall, summer and winter. This must have caused 
 them to think of Prometheus with a pleasing memory, for 
 they had fire to warm themselves with in the winter and 
 could make tools of metal to build their habitations. Tho 
 things would no longer grow without sowing, they were 
 provided with fire to make their plows, and now they must 
 labor and toil for subsistence. This made them insidious 
 and hateful, impious and insolent, yet they were men of 
 powerful stature, and fully able to work and provide for 
 their maintenance. For their inimical qualities they were 
 metamorphosed into ghosts and sent below to Pluto's 
 realm to wait for Jupiter's page to summon them to his 
 Olympian Court, after they had been purified to the extent 
 that he felt justified in calling them to a life of immortality. 
 After the Age of Bronze, which was also a wicked age, 
 came the Iron Age, which was worse than the preceding. 
 Crime, immodesty, lust, perverted minds and dishonor were 
 their degrading and demoralizing attributes. These times 
 were, however, imbued with a war spirit and courage, which 
 strongly manifested itself. War was in evidence at every 
 quarter of the known world. The few who were or would 
 have remained pure and good, by their forced social en- 
 vironments, were caused to sin and fall by the wayside. 
 For it is obvious and miraculously penetrating to observe 
 that two or more people, thru the influence of contact and 
 habit in living together, come in time to take on the same 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 25 
 
 facial expressions and form the same desires and same 
 phases of moral attributes. These people murdered each 
 other, pandemonium reigned. All good had left them until 
 it became necessary for the gods to abandon them, for they 
 could not longer tolerate their ignoble lives and manner of 
 living. 
 
 Astrea, the Goddess of Purity, was compelled to leave 
 them; still she stayed as long as a holy one will or can 
 possibly stay, as of our day, a father, a missionary, or 
 Sister of Christ, will go among sinful men to help them to 
 a better life. This goddess could not stay any longer, for 
 something was to happen to the sinning race here below, 
 and she perhaps knew of the impending calamity that was 
 suspended over their future destiny. And this was the 
 Flood of Deucalion, which corresponds to the Flood of 
 Noah in the Hebrew Bible. Jove could plainly observe 
 the disintegrated and immoral state to which they had 
 retrogaded. He summoned the heavenly synod. They met 
 together, traveling the milky way, lit by the stars, and 
 curbed by the gray sky and macadamized by the iridescent 
 star-dust, finally reaching the Palace of Jupiter, where they 
 held council over the future destiny of the earth. And 
 here he made his preceptive exhortations, invoking the gods 
 who had assembled, to join with him in one unanimous 
 declaration that they would destroy the human race that 
 was then inhabiting the earth, and afterwards make a new 
 race — a race more to his liking and after his own image, 
 and a race that should have reverence for the ever-reigning 
 deities, and manifest their reverence by making sacrifices 
 and worshipping at altars that he would designate. Nep- 
 tune was at once in favor of this procedure. They joined 
 their powers together and gave the heavenly gargoyles an 
 emetic that caused them to emit such copious amounts of 
 
26 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 water on the earth that the race, with two exceptions, were 
 swept away. 
 
 The favored ones were Deucalion and Pyrrha. Deucalion 
 and Pyrrha ascended the Parnassus range of mountains. 
 She was the daughter of Epimetheus and he the son of 
 Prometheus' own cousins. They found refuge, probably 
 near the Castalian Springs, which are on this mountain, 
 where they were provided with fresh water. 
 
 There lives were as those of Noah and his family. They 
 both loved and feared the great Jehovah, and as Noah did 
 on Mount Ararat when the waters had receded, they built 
 altars and worshipped, both falling prostrate before the 
 altars and thanking the gods for their deliverance and 
 guidance. At this altar they received the well-known oracle, 
 "Veil thy heads, loosen thy garments and cast behind you 
 the bones of your mother." Pyrrha was astonished, she 
 felt she could not desecrate or profane the remains of her 
 deceased progenitor. Deucalion interpreted the oracle. He 
 saw its meaning and related it to Pyrrha. They at once 
 cast the stones behind them, as they were told to do; in- 
 stantly the stones changed into human forms and life. The 
 ones he threw back of him became men and the ones she 
 cast back of her became women. They became a hardy 
 race as the stones would indicate. The interpretation of 
 casting the stones, or bones of their forefathers, back of 
 them, bears out the significance that they were to cast the 
 evil ways of their parents' behind them, and that all future 
 races were supposed to do likewise. This race of people 
 had a heavy sprinkling of heroes and demigods. Hellen 
 subsequently became the son of Deucalion and Pyrrha. He 
 was the father of the Hellenes or the Grecian race. Eolus, 
 Dorus, Xuthus and the Somans were his sons, who were the 
 propagators of heroic tribes that founded cities and nations 
 that were named after them. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 27 
 
 WHAT IS MYTHOLOGY? 
 Part II 
 
 The primeval minds of antique poets have fortuitously 
 and easily instituted mythology and its characters, which 
 are anthropomorphic personalities used as symbols to repre- 
 sent the phenomena of nature. There have been many tra- 
 ditions and legendary events that have never been accepted 
 as authentic history, but without the remotest doubt many 
 of them were based on actual occurrences, tho thru the 
 long corridor of time have been perverted until the stories 
 have perhaps become so monstrous as not to be credited. 
 Stories are borrowed so much by one nation or people from 
 another, only changing the personal names, that they lose 
 their identity. Some of the leading mythologists of later 
 days call these works the "disease of language. " I refer 
 the reader to John Fiske's "Myth and Myth-makers/' 
 Grimm's "Teutonic Myths," or Bering Gould's "Curious 
 Myths," et cetera. 
 
 Well do we know that Belisarius was a great general in 
 the time of Justinian, Emperor of Byzantine Rome, tho is 
 it myth or a historical fact that he was turned out as a 
 blind, begging mendicant to die after reaching the highest 
 pinnacle of military fame under the rule of Justinian, Em- 
 peror of the East? Was there really a William Tell that 
 instigated the revolt of the cantons of Switzerland, that 
 finally culminated into the overthrow of Leopold that 
 Switzerland might become a republic? No one doubts but 
 what Harun-al-Raschid of Bagdad once lived and was com- 
 mander of the faithful, and that he disguised his person 
 and went among his poor to find out their needs. The story 
 is more or less discredited because his philanthropic acts 
 have been eulogized and added to until they are as im- 
 
28 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 possible as the lamp of Aladdin, that illumined all the secrets 
 of the earth and disclosed all sorts of hidden treasures ; the 
 same is true of the adventures of Sindbad, the sailor ;* and 
 Roland's experience in the mountain pass with the Moors. 
 The legend goes on to say that after Charlemagne had left 
 him so far in the rear that he could not see his young pro- 
 tege, the Moors came upon him. Consequently, not know- 
 ing Roland's plight, he did not aid him. It is related that 
 Roland could have saved himself and his army from this 
 enemy by blowing a large horn he had with him for that 
 purpose and summoning his uncle to his aid, but the brave 
 Roland, endowed with so much prowess and self-reliance, 
 after consulting with Oliver, his chief paladin, turned and 
 fought the enemy, the result terminating disastrously to 
 Roland and his army. 
 
 This story in its general outline is somewhat historically 
 correct, but there have been so many romantic myths 
 brought into it that its verity has been mantled with a cloud 
 of doubt and skepticism. History records the existence of 
 "werewolves," which are historical characters, for there 
 have been recorded in history men whose ignoble lives have 
 merited the word they have been christened with. These 
 "werewolves" have sprung up in every nation. They are 
 men who are born with an implacable desire to devour 
 human flesh and drink human blood, which seems to be 
 their "To Kalon," or the one incentive in life they aspire 
 to. Science of today calls it Lyconthropy Sadism and 
 Atavism. It is man's character bred back to the animal 
 propensities indigenous to a raving wolf. 
 
 There are also many "stories," known as ecclesiastical 
 myths, that have been propagated and promulgated by 
 
 ♦Read Burton's or Paine's unexpurgated editions of the "Arabian 
 Nights." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 29 
 
 monks in cloisters, only they term them miracles. They 
 have been handed down to posterity thru both sacred and 
 profane history as being miraculously true, when in fact 
 they are traditionally mythical. For instance, the story of 
 Saint George killing the dragon, or the "La Baron" in the 
 sky that Emperor Constantine was supposed to accept as 
 a celestial sign for him to adopt the Christian religion and 
 the cross as his banner, and by it conquer, which he did 
 at Melvin bridge. Also the many miraculous events of 
 the Crusades and the wars that were carried on in Italy 
 by Frederick Barbarosa. 
 
 The human brain is a recondite organ whose psychological 
 vagaries and functions can never be fathomed. It creates 
 stories that are one-half true, and in time become ac- 
 credited "fact." It also creates stories that aj-e framed with 
 such specious words and symbols of expression that their 
 significance is often beautiful and "poetically" true. Still 
 these dummy actors seem to a rational and logical mind 
 monstrous and impossible. For example, the stories by 
 Rabelais, in whose words of gorget and pantagruelism, to- 
 gether with the evil behavior of his characters, have become 
 nothing more than a "synecdoche" or figure of speech to 
 express the irrefragable doings of forward, abnormal chil- 
 dren like Pantagruel, son of Gorgonosuer. Of course they 
 are more than suggestive, even to the liberal reader, which 
 has caused them to be branded as evil, which are not evil, 
 for they only express and characterize the deformity of evil 
 which at once becomes a beneficent necessity. In other 
 words, evil that is beneficent is not evil, but a necessary 
 good. Evil is only evil in seeming so. 
 
 Then it is plain that stories are not all "stories" ; there are 
 always stratas of truth and good in them. Some authors 
 have gone so far as to say it is impossible to make up a 
 myth without it being in reality a truth, as Rene Descartes 
 
30 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 in his "Cogito, ergo sum" (I think, therefore I am). He was 
 not satisfied for many years whether he really was in ex- 
 istence or not, or whether there was any physical existence 
 to the world. Berkeley was of this same opinion. I speak 
 of these philosophers and their philosophy simply to show 
 how deep the mind can delve into what I call "Mythical 
 Psychology." 
 
 The old nocturnal incubus called mara (or nightmare), 
 together wih the Nixies (swan maids) and Banshees of 
 Ireland, or some one form or the other in each and every 
 nation in past ages, seem to appear regularly to haunt and 
 trouble mankind. These formidable demons were obtrusive 
 in their sedulous visits ; still the calamity that was supposed 
 to be in juxtaposition with their visits, never was known 
 to really do physical harm, with the exception that some 
 felt a choking sensation that they were sure was caused by 
 the monster Mara sitting on their breasts ; in reality they 
 had eaten too copious a meal and the gas pressing on the 
 diaphragm had caused them nightly disquietude! This, 
 together with many other natural causes, has contributed 
 toward the manufacture of mythical demons of this sort. 
 As science has enlightened us, and has unfolded the truth 
 of so much that was mysterious, it has given superstition, 
 and all religion in fact, a very hard blow. A scientific mind 
 wants proof. The rule of proof is comparison; without a 
 standard we cannot reason intelligently, nor can we analyze 
 without a rule of comparison. The sailor at sea must have 
 some objects from which to compute distance, so he uses 
 the stars and the sun, the compass and sextant. There must 
 always be premises to stand on and to compare from. The 
 jeweler compares his gems and makes his own deductions. 
 It was different in the early days — everything was objective. 
 The great power of Nature before the eyes of observers 
 seemed to move and go on its way unguarded and alone, 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 31 
 
 and to be vastly more potent than was man. They were 
 convinced by this alone, that the winds and waters and all 
 of the elements were endowed with a soul, with divine 
 attributes; they invested these souls with invisible human 
 forms of monstrous proportions, which they used to char- 
 acterize the elements of Nature and its uncontrollable 
 forces. 
 
 It is difficult to tell a story that is a story without some 
 truth, for even little, simple nursery stories and rhymes, in 
 their general outline seeming to be ridiculously absurd, and 
 never thought of as ever having the least semblance of 
 possible truth in them, if they are analyzed, discover a para- 
 doxical meaning that would puzzle an older head — only it 
 is put in a simple, childish way. John Fiske calls our atten- 
 tion to the fact that "there is little or no real nonsense in 
 the world. " Simple nursery rhymes can contain subjects 
 big with ideas. Such subjects have been undertaken as 
 merely pastime for children, and afterwards have become 
 of great use to humanity. Things have often been done that 
 seemed of little value at the time of their doing, but have 
 lived on and into usefulness ; for instance, when the Septua- 
 gint (or "seventy") monks were sent to Alexandria to 
 translate the Bible (or the Hebrew Scriptures) into Greek, 
 these scholarly monks had no idea at the time the great 
 work they were doing for posterity. Nor did St. Jerome, 
 while at Bethlehem in his cell, translating the same work, 
 which was and is still called the Vulgate, to be used by the 
 vulgar or the common masses. 
 
 It is equally true with all phases of literature, for to ob- 
 tain wisdom we must associate ourselves with the works 
 of other men. Darwin's "Origin of Species" has shown us 
 that it is one eternal battle for both vegetable and animal 
 life to exist. It ends with the "survival of the fittest," or 
 natural selection. The big eat up the little, which can be 
 
32 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 plainly seen in the large spreading oak which chokes out the 
 small weeds by its enormous roots, and smothers the shrub- 
 bery beneath its umbrageous branches. Links or a con- 
 catenation of literature forged from the works of great 
 men will make' you a golden chain that will bind you to be 
 provident in life and hopeful in the event of death. To 
 study such master-men of letters as I shall name involves 
 pleasure in literary reminiscences. One may shift from one 
 to the other and feel that he is spending his evenings with 
 the author himself, for variety is the spice of life. One 
 may get the humor of chivalry from "Don Quixote," and 
 at the same time it instructs you as to the errant acts of 
 the knights of the Middle Ages. Or you can read of the 
 great Cid or the "Seven Worthies," or step from Spain 
 to Comiene's "Lusiade," the poem that tells us of the Portu- 
 guese discovery of India. (This poem was named the 
 "Lusiade" after Portugal's ancient name, Lusitania.) From 
 Portugal, step over into Italy and read Boccaccio's "De- 
 cameron." That is both entertaining and instructive as to 
 the terrible plague in Italy in the 13th century, and shows 
 how careless many become, thinking no doubt that God had 
 forsaken them, and the "ten days" of the "Decameron" il- 
 lustrate how demoralized people may become under the 
 overwhelming pressure of disheartedness. 
 
 After the perusal of this remarkable work there comes "I 
 Promessi Sposi," by Alesandra Manzoni; then across the 
 Alps into Frane and peruse "Paul and Virginia," by Saint 
 Pierre, and when you are at home in your library, read 
 Humboldt's "Cosmos," Heckel's "Riddle of the Universe," 
 together with Kepler and Copernicus, on the principles of 
 the heavenly bodies and their movements. When thru with 
 these works, pick up Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy" 
 for variety, and as a poetical change, Richard Burton's 
 "Kassada," or his unexpurgated edition of the "Arabian 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 33 
 
 Nights," or Fitzgerald's translation of Omar Khayyam's 
 "Rubaiyat," and back again to Darwin, Huxley, Tindall, 
 Spinoza, Bacon's "Novum Organum," and Sir Oliver 
 Lodge, the latter on "Psychic Phenomena" and the immor- 
 tality of the soul, and then Butler's "Hudibras"; Johnson's 
 "Lives of the Poets," Shakespeare and all of his confreres ; 
 Buckel on "Civilization," Adam Smith's "Wealth of Na- 
 tions," Machiavelli's "Prince," Voltaire's "History of 
 Charles The XII," Thomas Carlyle's "History of the French 
 Revolution," "Meditations of Marcus Aurelius Antonius," 
 Pascal's "Thoughts," and for some of the old fathers of the 
 church read St. Augustine's "Confessions" and his "City of 
 God"; "Imitations of Christ," by Thomas a Kempis, also 
 Origen, Luther and Palagus. For ancient history read 
 Livy, Strabo, "Plutarch's Lives," Heroditus and Josephus ; 
 then take up Sidney's "Arcadia," More's "Utopia," Plato's 
 "Republic," and then switch to Greek Drama. For philos- 
 ophy, Rousseau, Hobbs, Volaire, Locke, Hume, Berkeley 
 and Descartes. For another change, De Quincey's "Con- 
 fession of an English Opium Eater," Pope, Byron's "Childe 
 Harold" and Mayrie Bashkirtsefe's "Journal of a Young 
 Artist," Lord Lytton's "Lucile," and Bailey's "Festus." For 
 still another change, "Christian Iconography" and Sweden- 
 borg's "Heaven and Hell," and Defoe's "Robinson Crusoe," 
 Percy's "Relic," etc. There are a thousand others I could 
 name, but I cannot give the space, yet there are some I 
 must add, though I am making a long digression from our 
 subject, "Mythology." They are Pindar's "Odes," Hesiod's 
 "Works and Days," and many of the epic poems of the 
 different nations, like "Jerusalem Delivered," by Tasso; 
 Dante's "Divine Comedy," Milton's "Paradise Lost," 
 Spenser's "Fairie Queen," Homer's "Iliad" and Virgil's 
 "^Eneid," also "Orlando Furioso," by Ariosto; "King Ar- 
 thur and the Sangrail," by Mallory, the "Mabinogen of 
 Wales," translated by Charlotte Guest, and if one cares to 
 
34 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 find his own soul, read the "Great Work" by T. K., also the 
 "Harmonics of Evolution" and the "Great Psychological 
 Crime." 
 
 I apologize to the reader for being so desultory or dis- 
 cursive in reaching away from the original subject to grasp 
 a nucleus from this branch of thought or kaleidoscopic view 
 of erudition, to build our structure of faith that myth is often 
 paradoxical truth — useful, instructive and beautiful. 
 
 N. B. : If not for Mythology, Racine could not have given us his 
 Immortal "Phedra." 
 
 ROMAN DIVINITIES AND SUPERSTITIONS 
 
 The inaugurating exercises the Romans were so devout in 
 carrying on when an Emperor or First Consul was sworn 
 into office, involved religious and precursory divinations, 
 not only to propitiate the deities, but their priests or aug- 
 uries (from which the name inaugurate is derived). Then 
 they would suffer themselves to jester out esoteric signs to 
 invoke the intercession of Jupiter, and thereby these seem- 
 ingly ridiculous means would forecast and propitiate future 
 protection and an auspicious reign to the new-crowned Em- 
 peror. They were of a superstitious belief that the entrails 
 of an ox, after it had been slaughtered, would offer physical 
 manifestations by which they could read all great' events to 
 come. The festival called the Saturnalia was held annually 
 by the ancient Romans. Saturn henceforth became the God 
 of the Romans. Although Jupiter was his son, he usurped 
 his suzerainty. Saturn's Queen was Ops, who was the God- 
 dess of the Golden Harvest. She has been confounded with 
 Rhea. 
 
 Janus, another Roman deity, was called the double-faced 
 Janus, of which the month January is named, for it faces 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 35 
 
 both ways at the old and new year. He was the porter at 
 all portals and entrances. Terminus was the God of Land- 
 marks. Faunus was a Roman Satyr. Sylvanus was an 
 earthly deity and presided over the forests, while Pomona 
 and Vertumnus presided over orchards and gardens. The 
 ancient Romans believed somewhat as our modern Spiritual- 
 ists. They believed that each and every male had a Genus 
 and every female a Juno for their guide or spirit, who pro- 
 tected them and looked after their welfare. Roman birth- 
 days were always celebrated by offerings made to their 
 heavenly guides. Juventus was the Deity of Youth ; he was 
 a titular god to all below the age of puberty. In going 
 deeper into Roman mythology and the founding of Rome 
 by men of divine parentage it is necessary to go back to the 
 Trojan War. 
 
 The original cause of this conflict was the celebration of 
 the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, ancestors of Achilles. 
 All of the deities were invited to this wedding except Dis- 
 cord or Eris. She became so enraged that she cast a golden 
 apple among the guests with the inscription, "For the 
 Fairest." Venus, Juno and Minerva, three of the most beau- 
 tiful goddesses present, claimed the apple. It happened to 
 be the case that there was no one present that was thought 
 by Jupiter competent to judge of a matter of so much mo- 
 ment as this, so he at once dispatched a fleet courier to 
 Mount Ida for Paris, son of Priam, King of Troy. Paris 
 was attending the flocks as the message summoning him ar- 
 rived. Each one of these goddesses endeavored to bribe 
 Paris after he had arrived on the scene. Juno promised him 
 power and great wealth ; Minerva, renown in war ; Venus 
 promised him the most beautiful woman living for his wife. 
 Paris at once accepted the latter, and of course by doing 
 this drew the animadversion of the other two upon himself, 
 which later caused him much discomfort. 
 
36 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 In a very short time Paris, under the influence of Venus, 
 sailed for Greece, where he was hospitably received by 
 Menelaus, King of Sparta, whose wife Helen was reputed 
 to be the most beautiful of all the Greek women. She was 
 the one that Providence had destined to cause the Great 
 Trojan War, for Paris fell deeply in love with her and 
 carried her away to Troy. Menelaus became so enraged 
 that he called upon each and every city in Greece to aid 
 him in the recovery of his beautiful Queen and wife, Helen.* 
 Most of the generals of Greece made ready at once for the 
 invasion of Troy. Still there were a few exceptions. 
 Ulysses, who had married Penelope, a cousin of Helen's 
 pretended madness as Hamlet is purported to have done in 
 Shakespeare's drama. Ulysses sowed salt as tho it were 
 grain, but his false illusions were discovered by Polomedes, 
 and after he saw that his dissembling subterfuge was of no 
 avail he decided to go, and also to prevail on others who 
 had been until now reluctant in taking up arms to bring 
 Helen back to Sparta. One of them was Achilles, the son 
 of Peleus and Thetis, at whose wedding all of this trouble 
 had started. However, this involved Ulysses in no end of 
 trouble, for Achilles' mother had been warned that her son 
 would be killed in battle before Troy, and she had sent him 
 away to the island of Scyros to abide with King Lycomedes 
 and his court. The boy had such perfect-cut features he 
 was disguised as a maid and mingled with the daughters of 
 the King with impunity. However, Ulysses discovered him 
 on going there disguised as a merchant selling arms for 
 the coming war. He observed that this "maid" Achilles 
 handled them too gracefully for a maiden, so he made him- 
 self known and prevailed upon Achilles to go to war, which 
 he did. 
 
 ♦See Gibbon's "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," also 
 Rollin's "Ancient History." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 37 
 
 When Paris was born, there were forebodings that he 
 would be the direct cause of Troy's ruin. Consequently 
 he was kept by Priam, his father and King of Troy, in ob- 
 scurity. Agamemnon, brother to Menelaus, was decided 
 upon as chief of the invading force. Beneath him as aid 
 was Ajax, who was physically powerful but dull in mental 
 capacity. Diomede and Nestor were others who played an 
 important role in this great conflict. Nestor was the oldest 
 of the chiefs, consequently he was selected as mentor for 
 the expedition. 
 
 They started on their enterprise of restoring the stolen 
 Helen to her husband, but they had a difficult undertaking 
 before them. Although Priam of Troy was an old man, he 
 had fortified his city and was the father of a powerful son 
 whose name was Hector. Hecuba, his Queen, had always 
 been of great help to him both in war and as a wife and 
 mother. Hector's wife, Andromache, was a woman of 
 stamina and courage. iEneas was a relative of Hector and 
 son of Venus, who after the war left with his father and son 
 to found a new city. After the Greeks had decided on this 
 great war they were two years in preparing for their final 
 dash. The great fleet of ships the Greeks were to embark 
 in had concentrated into the port of Aulis of Bceotia, and 
 one day while Agamemnon was hunting in the forest he 
 killed a stag that was sacred to the Goddess Diana. 
 
 In retribution for this act she served upon his army a 
 pestilence that so decimated his ranks that he was com- 
 pelled to resort to whatever he might to appease the anger 
 of this goddess. The sea was so becalmed that his ships 
 would not stir from their moorings, so what was he to do? 
 Calchas, the soothsayer, came to his rescue. He informed 
 Agamemnon that the virgin Goddess Diana wished him to 
 sacrifice his daughter Iphigenia. However, reluctant 
 Agamemnon must have been, he was compelled to submit 
 
38 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 to the inevitable, and called for his beautiful virgin daugh- 
 ter. He did not make known the true mission he had in 
 store for her, but called on his tergiversating propensities 
 and told her he was going to marry her to Achilles. After 
 she had been prepared for this autodefe, and was about to 
 be consumed as Isaac was when Abraham set about to make 
 a sacrifice of his son, Diana drew her away and placed a 
 hind in her place. Diana wrapped her in a cloud instead 
 of the sanbineto coat and took her away to Tauris, where 
 she was made Priestess of her Temple.* 
 
 Agamemnon having made restitution for his evil behavior 
 to the Goddess Diana, was now with his great fleet on the 
 coast of Troy. One of the bravest of the Greeks was Prote- 
 selaus, who encountered the Trojan Hector as soon as they 
 had landed, but was killed by him. Proteselaus was so 
 loved by his wife, Laodamia, that she invoked the gods to 
 let her speak with her husband, though only one hour. This 
 they consented to, though she was many miles from him. 
 The war went on for many years, until Achilles and 
 Agamemnon, the two great leaders, broke up in a litigious 
 affair that for a while looked as though the war had come 
 to an abrupt ending. At this point Homer's "Iliad," the 
 greatest of all poems, begins. f 
 
 All of this trouble between Achilles and Agamemnon grew 
 out of the spoils of the war. The Greeks had taken the 
 adjoining cities, and among the spoils was the beautiful 
 Chryseis. Agamemnon would not give her back to her 
 father, who had come for her and informed him that she 
 was a Priestess to Apollo, although Achilles reproached him 
 and tried to persuade him to hand her over, for he knew 
 
 ♦See Euripides' "Iphigenia at Aulis"; also Tennyson's "Dream of 
 Fair Women." 
 
 fThe reader should peruse Homer's "Iliad," translated into 
 English by Pope, or W. C. Bryant; also read Virgil's "vEneid." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 39 
 
 she could call on Apollo and do the army much harm. 
 Agamemnon would not relent and pestilence was sent upon 
 his forces. At last, when things were getting unbearable, 
 Agamemnon could see his mistake, and informed Achilles 
 he would give her up on one condition, and that was if he 
 would give him Briseis, another maiden who had been a 
 captive in Achilles' hands. Achilles submitted to this, but 
 threw down his arms and said he would take no further part 
 in the war. 
 
 All of the heavenly deities took part in this conflict. It 
 was known through prophecy that if the Greeks persisted 
 in battle they would eventually succeed. Juno and Minerva 
 saw their chance at this time to avenge a slight that Paris 
 had done them at the wedding feast, so they were against 
 the Trojans. Venus, on the contrary, favored them. Mars 
 being so fond of Venus, of course, would favor the Trojans, 
 while the great sea god Neptune favored the Greeks. Apollo 
 was sometimes neutral and then would vacillate from one 
 to the other. Jupiter was somewhat of the same disposition 
 as Apollo. The war went on and after a great onslaught 
 the Greeks were routed and compelled to seek refuge in 
 their ships, which were anchored near. This rout would 
 have perhaps never taken place had Achilles stayed and 
 fought as he originally intended, for he was the most alert 
 of the chiefs, the "fleet-footed" he was called. They were 
 now compelled to have a council of war, and Nestor advised 
 that Achilles should be sent for. Ajax, Ulysses and 
 Phoenix were the ones selected for this mission. Achilles 
 had only retired from actual combat, though as yet had not 
 crossed the water to Greece. Although after these three 
 emissaries had gone to him and petitioned him to go back 
 with them and recommence hostilities, he peremptorily re- 
 fused. While this embassy was doing all in its power to 
 influence Achilles to return and engage in the war, the 
 
40 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Greeks were in terrible stress. They were driven to their 
 ships and were besieged on all sides except the Southwest, 
 where Neptune had come to their aid. They were about to 
 either capitulate or destroy all when Calchus, a prophet, 
 urged them on and gave them hope, just at the time they 
 were in most need of it. 
 
 Ajax, son of Telamon, distinguished himself by his un- 
 paralleled valor. He encountered the powerful Hector as 
 soon as he made his first advance. Hector threw his mons- 
 trous spear at Ajax, but the weapon struck the belt buckle 
 and glanced off. Ajax did not resort to steel, but did as 
 David did to Goliath, picked up a large stone and threw it 
 at Hector with superhuman effort, hitting him in the neck. 
 Hector fell to the earth, and was carried from the field by 
 his own soldiers. Jupiter, it seemed, had forsaken the 
 battlefield, for a time at least, but there was a reason for 
 this and a very plausible one. Juno had fixed herself up in 
 her best, and to make herself still more attractive she bor- 
 rowed the cestus of Venus, and when Jupiter, her husband, 
 beheld her it rejuvenated his affection for her to the extent 
 that he and she were resting on Olympus, enjoying each 
 other's company and occasionally would give an inadvertent 
 glance across the way in the direction of the ensuing battle. 
 This all went very well with Jupiter until he, by a scruti- 
 nizing glance, saw that the one who had received the wound 
 from Ajax was Hector, and this greatly disturbed him. He 
 appealed to Apollo to heal Hector's wound, and to instil 
 new vim and vigor into him. This was done and Hector 
 soon returned to the battle line as strong as ever. 
 
 The next to receive a severe wound was Machaon, who 
 was a son of Esculapius, the father of medicine. Paris shot 
 an arrow that nearly ended his career as a surgeon of the 
 Greek army. Had it not have been for Nestor, who took 
 him into his chariot and drove him away to a safe retreat 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 41 
 
 where he could nurse him back to health, he would have 
 surely perished. Achilles had not as yet been completely 
 won over to join in the fighting, although he was prevailed 
 upon to at least loan his armor to another hero of nearly 
 equal valor and let him fight in his place disguised as him- 
 self. This hero was a great friend of Achilles ; his name was 
 Patroclus. By this time things had assumed a formidable 
 aspect. Four of the best generals were wounded and they 
 were now in a condition that warranted help at once. One 
 of the ships burst out into flames and at the sight of this 
 Achilles relented in so far as to loan his invincible Myrmi- 
 dons, which were said to be the posterity of ants as the 
 word conveys. Patroclus, with Achilles' armor, went into 
 the conflict with implacable zeal. Fighting frenzy overtook 
 him; his armor was enough for the Trojans, for they well 
 knew what it meant to charge an enemy like Achilles. They 
 were deceived — they ran to all quarters for refuge from 
 what they thought to be Achilles. Nestor and Ajax per- 
 formed prodigious feats of war — the enemy were routed 
 and the Greeks were victorious for at least a while, until 
 the Trojans recruited their army for another engagement. 
 
 After a short reprieve, the battle was renewed with 
 Sarpedon, grandson of Bellerophon. Just behind Patroclus 
 as support, his spear was hurled with such impetuosity at 
 Patroclus, though missing him, it pierced Sarpedon's body 
 and was the immediate cause of his death. Apollo was sup- 
 posed to have taken his remains to his (Sarpedon's) native 
 island. 
 
 Hector at this time came on to the field, caparisoned in 
 his beautiful panoply of war. His chariot and bearer of 
 arms were shifting to get to a strategic point. While 
 maneuvering, Patroclus hurled an immense stone at Hector 
 that missed him, but struck his charioteer, which knocked 
 him from the chariot to the ground. Hector descended to 
 
42 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 aid his charioteer and, as he did so, Patroclus descended 
 from his to press him closer with his spear. They were at 
 each other in a moment. Some one beside Hector struck 
 Patroclus, which either removed his helmet or stunned 
 him, for he was somewhat overcome by a blow from some 
 source, when Hector threw his spear; it was so well di- 
 rected that Patroclus fell mortally wounded. As soon as 
 he fell Homer records there was a great rush for his armor, 
 but Hector had taken this and had retired back of the fight- 
 ing line, where he donned the armor of Achilles. How- 
 ever, Hector had only taken the armor. He had not time 
 to take the body of Patroclus, for Ajax and Menelaus were 
 on hand at once to guard his remains. Hector and the en- 
 tire Trojan force tried to capture the remains of Patroclus. 
 
 The battle was raging to its utmost. They had forgotten 
 about Helen — it was the body of Patroclus they were after. 
 But at this Jove intervened and mantled the canopy of 
 heaven with a somber cloud. The thunder roared as though 
 ten thousand chariots were running down a mountainside. 
 They were in chaos and complete darkness prevailed, ex- 
 cept the occasional flash of lightning which momentarily lit 
 up the horrors of the scene, which only added to their hor- 
 rors instead of mitigating them. Ajax decided to send 
 word to Achilles to tell him the fate of his friend Patroclus. 
 The Greeks implored the Gods to give them light, which 
 after a time they did. The news was dispatched to Achilles, 
 but before he had received it the body of Patroclus was re- 
 covered by the Greeks and placed aboard their ships. 
 
 When Antilochus informed Achilles of his friend's death, 
 and the loss of his armor, Antilochus was afraid Achilles 
 would kill him for bringing such news, for he roared so loud 
 that Thetis, his mother, heard him from the palace of Nep- 
 tune in the deep. The only hope Achilles had now was 
 revenge. He was about to fly to the front and deliver his 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 43 
 
 dudgeon to Hector at once, but his mother called to him 
 from afar and reminded him of his armor being lost, and 
 that she would see that he had a more impervious and in- 
 vulnerable armor than warrior had ever donned before and 
 that it would be made by Vulcan, the heavenly blacksmith, 
 on the forge of Mount Etna in Sicily. The armor was made 
 at once. The corselet, greaves and helmet were made of 
 metal that could not be penetrated by any weapon made by 
 man. Thetis brought the armor to her son and laid it be- 
 fore him as she promised she would do. Achilles was never 
 as happy as now to receive this armor, which he donned, 
 went forward and made a speech to his comrades, saying 
 he had forgiven and wanted to be forgiven by Agamemnon. 
 He said the fault was not his, but the Goddess Ate, who 
 was the Goddess of Infatuation. Agamemnon and Achilles 
 were reconciled. 
 
 Achilles went into the battle in zealous rage. Many 
 turned and ran from him — many were killed by his well- 
 directed lance. ^Eneas 1 was the first to encounter him. He 
 was encouraged to do so by Lycaon, son of Priam, the King. 
 iEneas threw his spear at Achilles. It struck the Vulcan 
 armor and was thrown with such impetuosity that it pene- 
 trated the first two plates of his shield, but was stopped by 
 the third. Achilles returned the compliment and threw his 
 spear at ^Eneas, but it glanced oflf without injury. Neptune 
 could see that ^neas was about to pick up a stone to cast 
 at his adversary, and by doing this would expose himself 
 to the spear of Achilles, so he carried ^Eneas away, en- 
 veloped in a cloud. 
 
 Priam could see from the walls of the city the danger his 
 men were in and commanded they should retreat within 
 the walls of the city. They obeyed, though had it not been 
 for the aid rendered them by Apollo they could not have 
 all got within and closed the gates, for Achilles was so 
 
44 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 closely at their heels they were placing their rearguard in 
 jeopardy. They had all gotten within the walls of Troy, 
 with the exception of Hector, who remained out to meet 
 Achilles at his own bidding. Priam called to him to come 
 within, but Hector would not obey. Then Hecuba, his 
 mother, tenderly called for him to come within, but Hector 
 remained steadfast. He was determined to do or to die. 
 As he was answering his parents, telling them he would 
 stand his ground, Achilles came at him with such formidable 
 jestures that Hector was compelled through fright to flee. 
 Achilles followed him until they had encircled the entire city 
 wall three times. Pallas ran along with Hector, giving him 
 courage. He turned and cast a spear at Achilles, but it only 
 bounded from the Vulcan armor. Pallas had assumed the 
 form of Hector's friend, Deiphobus, but Hector only dis- 
 covered this transfiguration after he had thrown this last 
 spear. Then he looked around for another weapon; he 
 could see he was lost. Defeat dawned on him all at once, 
 but Hector swore he would not fall ingloriously or without 
 an effort to save himself. Achilles raised his spear at this, 
 flung it at the crest of his breastplate near Hector's neck, 
 where it took effect. Hector fell to the earth with a few 
 words feebly uttered, but they were audible to those who 
 were near. "May my parents ransom my body and may I 
 receive the rites of burial from the Trojans. " 
 
 Achilles answered in harsh invective, saying, "No, your 
 carcass shall be given to the dogs. No ransom could be 
 offered that would induce me to give up the body that has 
 caused me so much anguish. " Achilles tied the body to his 
 chariot and let it drag on behind as he drove around the 
 city, and back and forth before the gates, excoriating him 
 and the Trojans as he flew. His father and mother could 
 see all of this, and were so stricken with sorrow and remorse 
 they were almost on the verge of going down into the fray 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 45 
 
 themselves. Andromache, the noble wife of Hector, heard 
 the roaring from out the walls and knew well something 
 was decidedly wrong. She went forth and as she saw the 
 truth of the day's battle she fainted and when revived she 
 felt for her children and their future and the ruin of Troy. 
 Woman has never suffered more than she. 
 
 After this the Greeks rejoiced in their great victory over 
 the defeat and death of Hector. The Gods prevailed upon 
 Achilles after he had indulged his wrath upon the body of 
 Hector, to give it back to his people. Upon receipt of his 
 remains, Priam, his father, delivered the ransom to Achilles 
 himself. The ransom consisted of ten talents, a golden cup 
 and two tripods. 
 
 Priam knew well the danger of going to the tent of this 
 hero, still he would go, and instead of taking powerful war- 
 riors with him he took an old man by the name of Idceus. 
 Jupiter realized the danger this venerable old king was to 
 undergo, and sent Mercury to guide and protect him. Mer- 
 cury drove the chariot for Priam. When they had reached 
 the tent of Achilles, Mercury threw a somber spell over 
 the guards and ushered Priam into the presence of Achilles, 
 where he was sitting with his two aides. 
 
 Priam threw Himself before the hero at once and kissed 
 his murderous hands, saying, "O, Achilles, think of thy old 
 father at this moment that is full of years and ready to fall 
 from the brink of life into eternal dissolution. Have pity. 
 Consider my senile years. Your own illustrious father loves 
 you. He watches for you to comfort him in his declining 
 years. Ah, yes, and comforted he will be, for his son 
 Achilles lives and will receive him into his arms and plant 
 a loving kiss on each fatherly cheek. But I, whom the gods 
 have forsaken; I, who have been blessed with strong sons 
 and beautiful daughters ; I, who have been destined to be 
 King of Ilium, and I, who have been selected by Jove to 
 
46 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 rule the people of my realm ; I, I, oh, Achilles, I must be 
 deprived of my son now, for he is dead, but have compas- 
 sion on me! Have pity on my Hecuba! Give me what 
 remains of him. Give him to me, this I ask you." 
 
 Achilles dropped his head and wept, for the solemn words 
 of this venerable old king thus moved Achilles to tears and 
 emotion. Achilles placed his strong hand upon Priam's 
 shoulders, and raised him from his kneeling posture. "I 
 know well, King, thou could have never entered this tent 
 without divine help, therefore, the Gods love you, and by 
 it I judge your worthy appeal. I will give you your boy 
 Hector." Achilles received the ransom, and a twelve-day 
 truce was agreed upon between them ; and during this truce 
 the funeral of Hector was solemnized with all the respect 
 that royal pageantry could show him. When the funeral 
 cortege was slowly passing through the walls of the city 
 the people could descry the form of their fallen hero, and 
 there was heard a chorus of lamentations that continued 
 until he was incinerated in the Trojan soil. Few funeral 
 pyres have been surrounded with as many broken hearts 
 as that of Hector. 
 
 This is as far as Homer's "Iliad" goes into the explana- 
 tion of the ignominious ending of Hector, and in fact, to 
 go further, we must take up the Odyssey, which means the 
 story of Ulysses and his adventurous travels after the fall 
 of Troy. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 47 
 
 NAMES DERIVED FROM MYTHOLOGY 
 
 There are many names and words in all modern lan- 
 guages that have been handed down to us from mythology. 
 Cornucopia is one, which is a cornet or horn of plenty. 
 Hercules and Achelus, the river god, got into a hand-to- 
 hand encounter one day on account of Dejanira, whom they 
 both loved. During the combat Achelus was getting the 
 worst of the strife, and to crawl out of it gracefully turned 
 himself into a snake. But snakes would not daunt Hercules, 
 for he had strangled snakes when he was a babe in his 
 cradle. So he strangled this metamorphosed snake. 
 Achelus changed himself again, seeing he was still in great 
 danger of being killed. This time he changed into a bull. 
 At this Hercules grasped him by the horns and threw (the 
 bull) over on his back and pulled one of the horns loose 
 from the bull's head, then casting the horn aside. The 
 Naiads consecrated it and filled it with fruit and flowers and 
 presented it to the Goddess of Plenty, who adopted it as 
 their symbol and named it cornucopia, which is still re- 
 garded as the symbol of fecundity and plentitude. 
 
 Another name that is often used in the English vocabulary 
 is Luna, who was an Italian deity that presided over the 
 moon ; Sol was another who presided over the sun ; Mater, 
 the dawn, mother of the morning ; Juventus, of youth ; 
 Fides, or honesty (fidelity) ; Penates, those who presided 
 over the domestic welfare of the household ; Flora, or god- 
 dess of flowers ; Sylvanus, of forests ; Pomona, or goddess 
 of vegetables or fruit trees; Sirens, or muses of the sea. 
 who by their beautiful singing drew the sailors' attention 
 to them, consequently allowing their ships to go on to the 
 rocks and be destroyed. 
 
 The Salamander was a lizard that could be thrown into 
 fire without injury; the Phoenix was a bird that was con- 
 
48 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 sumed into ashes and "resurgam" (rose again) ; the Cocka- 
 trice (or Basilisk) was the monarch of all serpents, fabled 
 to have killed many by its penetrating deadly gaze ; Somnus, 
 Hypnos and Thanatos* were sons of night, the former God 
 of Sleep, the latter of Death ; the Furies were supposed to 
 have sprung from the blood of the wounded Uranus; they 
 were personified instruments of punishment ; Pluto, or King 
 of the Underworld, is also often referred to ; Dryads, Hama- 
 dryads and Orieads are different classes of nymphs and 
 minor earthly deities that are personified in the form of 
 beautiful women, usually dancing together in streams, at 
 fountains, in trees or in meadows, and who are usually 
 nude and have long, beautiful tresses and perfect physiques. 
 The tree nymphs were called Hamadryads. Satyrs and 
 fauns were of the opposite sex to that of the nymphs, still 
 they bore the same significance to nature. 
 
 Halcyon is used in connection with halcyon or peaceful 
 days and is a common way of expressing pleasant days of 
 the past. Halcyon's husband was lost at sea, and she re- 
 mained at home moaning his absence and wondering if he 
 was drowned. His being away so long convinced her some 
 terrible calamity had surely befallen him. While she lay 
 on her couch late one night in wait for tidings of her be- 
 loved, he had assumed the form of another and flew to her, 
 standing before her dripping with the salt sea water. He 
 informed her that he had been drowned in the ^Egean Sea. 
 As soon as these words were spoken to her she raised from 
 her former posture and flew to the seashore. As she ap- 
 proached she could discern an object floating to and fro in 
 the water and, as the wind blew the waves toward her, the 
 object floated nearer until she recognized it to be her hus- 
 band. As soon as she looked well upon his remains she 
 was transformed into a bird, the kingfisher, and flew away, 
 
 *See Bryant's "Thanatopsis." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 49 
 
 moaning as she flew. This was during the winter solstice 
 and from this time on, Jove changed the habits of the winds, 
 never allowing them to blow for seven days before and 
 seven days after the solstice (the shortest day of the year 
 is the winter solstice, the longest day the summer solstice. 
 Some think this the time of the equinox, which is the op- 
 posite. The equinox is when the day and night are equal 
 in length). The above story Has been shown to contain 
 much truth, for the wind and waves during these times 
 of the year are apt to be calm. And the Halcyon birds 
 brood over their young on the breast of the sea, and sea- 
 faring men consider it safe to start on their voyages. 
 
 Bacchanals or Bacchantes are those who worshipped 
 Bacchus, the God of Wine. They are often used to express 
 the actions of those who indulge in social debauchery and 
 evenings of vinous pleasantry. Bacchus or Dionysus was 
 the son of Jupiter and Semele. He was a lover of peace 
 and a law-giver; his crown was made of ivy leaves; he 
 rode upon the tiger and panther, sometimes the lynx. His 
 attendants were satyrs and the Maenads, or women who 
 danced about him and waved the "Thyrsus/' which was a 
 staff surrounded by ivy, surmounted by a pine cone. His 
 name in some countries signifies "loosener of cares." Sile- 
 nus was his drunken companion, who was usually in his 
 company. 
 
 Nemesis was the Goddess of Vengeance, and Plutus the 
 God of Wealth. These two deities have given us words 
 that are frequent in most all modern languages. Phaeton, 
 son of Phoebus, who attempted to drive the Chariot of the 
 Sun for his faher, has been the natural nomeclature for our 
 carriage by that name. 
 
 The word "pander," from Pandarus, a leader in the 
 Trojan War, procured for Troilus the love of Chryseis. 
 This word is used to convey the meaning of service ren- 
 
50 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 dered by a bawd who procures a woman for evil purposes 
 for another. These words and thousands more that have 
 been adopted from ancient mythology are used in the Eng- 
 lish language as well as most other European languages. 
 
 THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES 
 
 Ulysses was the victorious generalissimo of the Trojan 
 War. Under his directions and wonderful strategy the 
 Greeks won this famous conflict. A peculiarity that has al- 
 ways been characteristic of the Greek people as a whole is 
 that they are a race divided amongst themselves ; as Christ 
 said, "If a house is divided against itself it will fall." The 
 truth of this has been exemplified many times over by these 
 very people, for instead of centralizing their capital and up- 
 holding the constitutional laws that the federal government 
 of that capital might legislate to govern the nation as a 
 whole, they have become jealous one city of another, and 
 set themselves up a government of their own and not sub- 
 mitting to the domineering supremacy of a neghboring me- 
 tropolis and district. They have made several states out of 
 one people, and have had war after war that was nothing 
 more or less than civil conflict. And still, on several im- 
 portant occasions of the remote past, when one of these 
 states was threatened with destruction, they all came for- 
 ward and aided each other. For instance, as when Xerxes 
 led the Medes and Persians to their country, and Leonidas 
 from Corinth hastened to the north of Greece and at Ther- 
 mopalae fought so bravely to repulse the onslaught of the 
 Persians. At another time, at the battle of the Marathon, 
 and the naval engagement called the battle of Salamis; also, 
 other times they have combined their forces to fight as one 
 nation. During the Trojan War the different states were 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 51 
 
 nearly all represented ; tho many of the generals were reluc- 
 tant at first, they all became as one state before the war 
 was over. 
 
 After the war, Ulysses did not go home to Ithaca and his 
 dear wife, Penelope, but gathered a company of heroes and 
 sailed away from the shores of Ilium to many different 
 countries and islands. He first stopped at the Land of the 
 Lotos Eaters, if I am to give his exact itinerary after the 
 war in his peregrinations. 
 
 When Ulysses and his company decided they would in- 
 vestigate the place and the people's habits, they disem- 
 barked, and were hospitably entertained by the citizens, and 
 were offered some of the lotos plant to eat. This they ac- 
 cepted. The plant was supposed to have a peculiar effect 
 upon those who partook of it, for it would cause them to 
 be apathetic in leaving the island and returning to their 
 own homes. It proved to have this effect on this occasion, 
 for it was with great difficulty that Ulysses got away with 
 his men. He was compelled to use force, and to tie his men 
 to parts of the ship until the ship got away far enough so 
 the attraction was broken. This Lotos plant must have 
 been the poppy from which we extract opium, for they 
 were said to have had beautiful dreams and were dozy and 
 indifferent about all worldly matters. This being the case, 
 it surely must have been the active principle of opium that 
 rendered them in this state of mental stupidity and indif- 
 ference. 
 
 The next place he landed was in the land of the Cyclops. 
 These monsters dwelt in caves and fed on whatever Na- 
 ture was good enough to provide for them, without neces- 
 sitating toil or labor, with the exception of herding sheep. 
 When the company went ashore here Ulysses took him as 
 a peace offering a keg of wine. As they went on into the 
 interior of the island some thought they saw the entrance 
 
52 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 of a cave that looked inviting and went into it. They were 
 convinced by the food they saw there that it was inhabited. 
 
 Before they had taken seats the master of the cave ap- 
 peared. His name was Polyphemus. He said nothing at 
 first but proceeded to go on with his "household duties/' 
 until Ulysses spoke and informed him that he had just ar- 
 rived in the land from the Trojan War, and also how the 
 Greeks had been victorious over the Trojans, and when he 
 had said this, he finished by craving the hospitality of Poly- 
 phemus. This giant Cyclops replied by abruptly grabbing 
 two of the company and throwing them against the rocky 
 cave wall and crushing out their lives. He at once picked 
 up the parts of the bodies and ate them with all satiety. 
 After becoming surfeit, he fell into a deep sleep. Ulysses 
 would have dispatched this monster at once, since this 
 would perhaps be his best opportunity, but it suddenly 
 dawned on him how could they ever make their exit if they 
 killed him, for he had placed a large rock that 500 men 
 could not stir against the entrance as he had entered. They 
 were compelled to put up for the night in this horrid cave. 
 In the morning the Cyclops was hungry again and he re- 
 peated the act of the evening before, and killed two more 
 of Ulysses' men and ate them. After his breakfast he left 
 the cave and shut them in, and went on to herd his flocks 
 for the day. 
 
 Ulysses and his companions were frightened and won- 
 dering what they were going to do to avoid certain death. 
 He had proven his resourcefulness in war many times over, 
 but now he was called on for strategy that must be effectual 
 in its outcome, or they would all surely perish. Ulysses 
 soon decided what he would do; he sharpened a large stick, 
 burned or charred the end to suit him for the purpose of 
 piercing and burning the eye out of this monster, for the 
 Cyclops have but one eye. In time the Cyclops returned 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 53 
 
 and killed two more, and sat down to eat them, and while 
 devouring them, Ulysses in euphemistic terms invited him 
 to drink some of the wine he had brought in with him. The 
 Cyclops accepted the wine and drank and drank until he 
 was intoxicated. While in this inebrious state the Cyclops 
 asked Ulysses what his name was, and Ulysses gave him 
 an ambiguous answer, saying his name was "Nobody." Af- 
 ter this the Cyclops being so stultified by the gases in the 
 cave, and the wine, that he fell asleep, and Ulysses lit the 
 charred end of his prepared stick and put his eye out. The 
 Cyclops roared and cried in agony, and tried to get hold 
 of them, but they avoided him and let him suffer. He con- 
 tinued to roar and smash up whatever he could get his 
 hands on, until the neighboring Cyclops heard him, and 
 they came to the entrance of the cave and hastily inquired 
 the cause of his roaring. He called out, 
 
 "O, comrades, I am wounded unto death and 'Nobody' 
 has injured me." They at once replied, "Well, if 'Nobody' 
 had injured you then only Jove is to blame." They turned 
 at this and left him to his misery. 
 
 In the morning Ulysses was wondering how he would 
 get out of this cave. The Cyclops had rolled away the 
 stone and let his sheep out to graze, but was careful to feel 
 of each one to see that no man was among them. But here 
 again the wise Ulysses won, for he tied his men each one 
 to the belly of a large goat or sheep, by means of willow 
 branches that were in the cave for the manufacture of bas- 
 kets. The Cyclops would feel the goats' backs as they 
 passed out, but never thought of feeling of their bellies 
 where the object of his search was suspended. The osier 
 branches buried themselves into the wool of the goats so 
 that he did not feel them, and the men all passed out in 
 this way, Ulysses being the last one to leave the cave. 
 Once out of the cave the men stood up with the goats still 
 
54 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 tied to them, and in this way walked and carried the sheep 
 and goats with them to their ships. When they paddled 
 away Ulysses shouted back to the Cyclops, informing him 
 that he was Ulysses, and that he had nucleated his eye, 
 and in the same voice cursed him. This so enraged the 
 Cyclops that he tore loose from the mountain a large rock 
 weighing many tons and threw it in the direction of the 
 sound that issued from Ulysses' stentorian lungs. The rock 
 stirred the waters so much that the rebound of the waves 
 nearly brought the ship to land, but on repeating this act 
 the waves caused by the next rock carried the ship safely 
 away. 
 
 They went on their journey, next landing at the Island 
 of iEolus, "The Bag of Winds/' an island that was supposed 
 to have caves that held the currents of wind; when the 
 Gods saw fit to let them loose they would swell the sails 
 of ships and would even at times drive them on to rocks and 
 destroy them. iEolus was King of this island, and it was 
 from him the island got its name. Ulysses was received 
 with due kindness and cordiality, and was presented with 
 bags of wind to aid him on his voyage to other parts. The 
 bags were cinctured with silver strings, that he might close 
 the bags at will if the outflow of air became too copious. 
 When they left iEolus with these bags aboard, they were 
 many days at sea blown hither and thither until they were 
 all exhausted from keeping watch over the ships' course. 
 Ulysses, tired out, lay down to sleep, and the men began to 
 wonder the cause of their predicament and wondered what 
 the bags really contained, thinking it must be some treas- 
 ure, for Ulysses had not told his men as yet about the 
 wind bags, nor had the sea been stirred by the wind from 
 them. The breezes they felt must have been from other 
 bags back in the island they had just left. Their curiosity 
 overcame them while Ulysses was sleeping, and they untied 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 55 
 
 the silver cord and the winds came forth with a gush. This 
 caused the sea to become still more formidable, until it 
 drove them for days, first here and then there, and finally 
 back to the island of iEolus. 
 
 Here they waited until the waters became calm and then 
 they proceeded on their way to the Lestrygonians. These 
 people were as large as the Magogs were supposed to have 
 been. They threw rocks at the ships and capsized all of 
 them except the one that Ulysses was on. All of the men 
 on these unfortunate ships were lost. Ulysses saw the 
 danger and sailed away as fast as he could to save his own 
 ship and his life. 
 
 He next arrived at the Island of iEaea, Circe's Isle, this 
 might be called, for she inhabited it. She was the daughter 
 of the Sun. Many wild animals were here, but she had 
 tamed them and they were not dangerous, she being a pow- 
 erful magician and had heretofore changed men into these 
 animals that were now on the island. Ulysses had divided 
 his company, and had sent one-half of them on their ex- 
 ploring expedition further into the island. Eurylochus 
 commanded this division that went into the interior. 
 Eurylochus arrived at a palace further on, and as he ap- 
 proached he heard enchanting strains of music, and the 
 sweet voice of some woman within. In a while Circe ap- 
 peared, and asked them all in. They all willingly accepted 
 the invitation except Eurylochus, who was incredulous as 
 to the safety of accepting the invitation. 
 
 After they were all in the palace they were served with 
 food and wines, and were entertained with dancing and en- 
 joyable festivities. While this was in progress the en- 
 chantress touched them with her wand and they were at 
 once changed into swine, although their mentality remained 
 as before. She then led them back into sties, where she 
 afterwards kept watch over them. Eurylochus had been 
 
56 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 cunning and avoided this calamity altho he knew what 
 had taken place with his comrades. In excited mood he 
 rushed to Ulysses and made known the fate of his men. 
 Ulysses started at once for the place, to see what he could 
 do to relieve his men, for he needed them on his voyage. 
 On his way he met a young man who addressed Ulysses by 
 name. He informed Ulysses that his name was Mercury, 
 and added that he must be very careful in these parts on 
 account of the enchantress, Circe, but at the same time 
 handed Ulysses a sprig of moly, informing him that it con- 
 tained latent force that would overcome her power if he 
 would use it as he instructed him it should be used. 
 
 In the meantime, these men who were now swine were 
 lamenting their fate and complaining to Circe about their 
 terrible predicament, for here they were wallowing in mud, 
 drinking swill and eating acorns, yet they looked up with 
 appealing eyes trying to express their sorrow and convey 
 the meaning of their wants. Tho powerless they were in 
 uttering a single word except swine language or to squeal, 
 they endeavored to impress on Circe that if they were to be 
 swine, to complete the job and make them swine indeed, 
 and not do as she had in leaving them their minds human, 
 that they might know they were in mind still human and in 
 body hogs. They wanted her to change them into human 
 beings even tho it be the very lowest type, or else make 
 them entirely into swine. While this appeal was being 
 made Ulysses appeared at the palace and was ushered in 
 and received pleasantly by the Goddess. She fed him 
 as she had the men before him, and at once flourished her 
 wand over Ulysses, using incantations at the same time, 
 telling him to seek the pen where the rest of the hogs were. 
 But Ulysses had the charmed twig that Mercury had given 
 him, and he did not need to change or obey her enchanting 
 art, but drew his sword instead and rushed at her, where- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 57 
 
 upon she fell at his feet praying for him to have mercy 
 upon her. He let her arise on one condition, and that was 
 that she was to release his men and transpose them with- 
 out travesty or trick into their former selves. This she did, 
 and afterwards gave a banquet to all of them. Ulysses re- 
 mained here a long time, enjoying her hospitality but finally 
 went on his way where he encountered the Sirens. 
 
 On their passing the Sirens the entire company were so 
 overcome by their sweet songs they nearly lost their lives, 
 for they are a class of nymphs that inhabit dangerous 
 passes between rocky cliffs in straits where ships are com- 
 pelled to pass from one body of water to another. Their 
 beauty, both in body and voice, is so overwhelmingly en- 
 trancing that even the most powerful misogymist will jump 
 overboard to rush to them, to embrace them and listen to 
 their passionately sweet voices. Circe had cautioned 
 Ulysses to be very chary of them, and she also informed 
 him how to treat his crew so that they would not give him 
 trouble in that direction. She told him to stuff their ears 
 with wax, so that they could not hear their voices, and that 
 he should have himself lashed to a mast of his ship, and 
 prompt his men that under no plea, no matter how appeal- 
 ing or convincing, were they to release him until the ship 
 has passed the danger zone. 
 
 Ulysses did all this, but when the vessel had arrived near 
 these Sirens, he became frenzied, and tore and cursed and 
 raved for his men to free him, that he might jump over- 
 board and rush to them. But they were true to their word 
 and would not release him. On the contrary they lashed 
 him more securely. The ship passed by and on. The sound 
 of the Sirens became fainter and fainter until after a while 
 their sweet voices could not be heard. They then untied 
 Ulysses and he thanked them, and now they feasted aboard 
 the ship and jollified among themselves for having the good 
 
58 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 fortune to escape them. They had now come thru safer 
 than the Sirens, for Parthenope, one of their number, saw 
 Ulysses from the rocky island where she stood, and was 
 so overcome by his princely bearing and heroic stature that 
 she leaped into the sea and was washed to the Italian shore. 
 A city was built here shortly after and was named in mem- 
 ory of her, Parthenope (afterwards called Naples). 
 
 Circe had also warned Ulysses of Scylla and Charybdis. 
 Scylla was a much deformed being that was said to have 
 had six heads. She inhabited a steep precipice near the sea 
 where there were many submerged rocks like stair steps. 
 Each one of her heads had a very large mouth that opened 
 after she forced her long neck out of the cave in the cliffs 
 in which she lived and received sailors who passed this 
 dangerous place. Charybdis was fully as dangerous, only 
 formed differently. This was a whirlpool something like 
 the Maelstrom near Scotland, that sucks in ships and swal- 
 lows them and then vomits them up again. (Charybdis is 
 usually personified in the monstrous and heroic form of a 
 woman.) They passed these two destructive objects with 
 but the loss of a few of their men. 
 
 In passing the Island of the Sun, Ulysses' men violated 
 his rules and the laws of Jove, by violating the cattle of 
 Hyperion or the Sun. For this his ships were wrecked and 
 all were drowned except Ulysses himself. He clung to a 
 shattered mast and floated to Calypso's Island. Calypso, a 
 beauteous nymph, received Ulysses with kindness, took 
 compassion on him in his great misfortune, and fell des- 
 perately in love with him. She offered Ulysses every in- 
 ducement to remain : her hand and heart, and even offered 
 to make him immortal like herself, if he would stay with 
 her instead of going back to his wife, Penelope. This 
 nymph, Calypso, was self-abnegative, for she finally re- 
 lented and let Ulysses go, after Mercury and Jove had car- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 59 
 
 ried her the message informing her that it was imperative 
 that Ulysses must leave her. She sacrificed her feelings, 
 and did all in her power to aid him in procuring and pro- 
 visioning a raft to take him on his way 
 
 Not far out from this place another terrible storm over- 
 took Ulysses and tore his raft to bits. Just as the last plank 
 was washing from, under him, a nymph alighted on what 
 remained of his raft and gave him a girdle and explained 
 how it should be worn to save him from drowning. He put 
 this on, and sure enough he floated on to the Land of the 
 Phaeacians. Here in this land lived gods and men in com- 
 mon. They knew not the meaning of the word "war." 
 They were peace-loving and humble, the rich and wise. 
 Fishing and seafaring were their avocations. Their ships 
 had intelligence and needed no pilot to steer them. They 
 went where they were told to go and could go with the 
 speed of an eagle. Nausicoa, the beautiful daughter of the 
 king of this island, had a dream, that she was to be mar- 
 ried shortly, and that she must prepare herself for this 
 event; that she must take her garments to the fountains 
 and wash them, and make all other preparations that would 
 enhance her beauty for this occasion. On awakening she 
 felt she must follow the dictates of her dream, so she told 
 her father what she had dreamed, and he had the servants 
 aid her to prepare her clothes for the wedding. When 
 Ulysses had been washed ashore on this island he was so 
 exhausted that he made a bed of leaves and lay down to 
 rest and fell asleep. 
 
 After this beautiful princess had, with her servants 
 loaded the carriage with her garments and food and wine, 
 they went down to the water's edge to wash them. When 
 this was accomplished they sat down on the ground to a 
 little repast of food and wine, and then the princess in 
 youthful spirit suggested they play ball. One of the maids 
 
60 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 consented to this and with vivacious spirit they commenced 
 to play. The ball was tossed to the princess and it passed 
 her and fell into the water. This caused a commotion 
 among them, each one of them excitedly inquiring of the 
 other how they were going to set about to recover the ball. 
 The noise and commotion awoke Ulysses. With gallantry 
 that was so characteristic of him he promptly raised him- 
 self from his bed of leaves and started toward them to aid 
 them; when he looked down on himself and discovered he 
 hadn't a single thread of clothing. The storm while on the 
 raft had entirely denuded and divested him of all raiment. 
 But by this time he had observed her unusual beauty, and 
 he felt he must go and help her at all hazard. He broke 
 off branches of vines and placed them about his naked form 
 and ran to her. As soon as they saw him coming they 
 screamed and ran in all directions, leaving all of their prop- 
 erty behind. Nausicoa had more courage than her com- 
 panions, and when she took the second thought she stood 
 still and waited for Ulysses to approach. Ulysses, gentle- 
 man that he was, stopped and would not approach further 
 out of respect for this noble princess. He shielded his body 
 as best he could, by pulling other shrubbery before him as 
 he stood there, and graciously asked her to pardon him for 
 his hasty and abrupt intrusion, and also went on to tell her 
 of his unfortunate adventure at sea and how he came to be 
 in such a predicament. 
 
 The princess replied very courteously, informing him she 
 was sure that she could succor him in every way and offer 
 him asylum whereby he would be both clothed, fed and 
 sheltered. She called to her companions and told them 
 they had no reason to behave as they had, for the people 
 of their land had no one to fear, and that crime had never 
 been known on their island, and why they should run at 
 this time was something she could not understand. She 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 61 
 
 further remarked that this man had been a creature of cir- 
 cumstances, and by his misfortunes had been cast upon 
 their shores, a stranger, thru the providence of the gods, 
 thrown into their hands, that they might prove themselves 
 worthy of the name of Phaeacians, whose hospitable tenden- 
 cies had become renowned. She said that Jove had sent 
 him to them, and they all being children of Jove must pro- 
 ceed to do as their best intuitions prompted. At this she 
 asked her servants to bring food and drink and raiment for 
 this unfortunate man. 
 
 After he had eaten and bathed, and donned garments that 
 she had secured from her father's household, they sat on 
 the grass and conversed for a while, he telling her about 
 his hairbreadth escapes from death, and relating to her some 
 other of many adventures in past days until she became 
 fascinated and interested in him. She thought of her dream 
 the night before and wondered could this be he, and wished 
 it might be, and asked herself if there was any possibility 
 of her ever having a man as handsome and attractive as he, 
 and what she would give to know if he would ever love 
 her, and many other thoughts traversed her youthful and 
 tender, sweet mind. 
 
 She suggested to Ulysses that they slowly wend their 
 way to the city, but also intimated that on arrival at the 
 city gates he had better go one way and she another so as 
 not to arouse needless comment, especially with the "hoy 
 polloi" and vulgar class, for Ulysses was distinguished-look- 
 ing, and one who would be gazed upon and followed, es- 
 pecially if seen with the king's daughter. She warned him 
 of this, and asked him to go to yonder grove, that was just 
 outside the city, which had been a retreat for the imperial 
 family. Ulysses and the princess separated, and he started 
 out to do just as she had told him. 
 
 On his way he met a "woman" going to the spring to 
 
62 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 draw water. This was Minerva who had disguised herself 
 in this way. Ulysses stopped the woman and asked her 
 if she would kindly direct him to the retreat of his Ma- 
 jesty, the King. She kindly informed him she would be 
 pleased to guide him there or anywhere he would care to 
 go thruout the island, for she told him, "I won't need Xn 
 go out of my way for the palace is right near by." The 
 Goddess Minerva led Ulysses to the palace, and not to the 
 retreat, but to shield him she enveloped him in a cloud. 
 Minerva also led him to the harbor where he viewed the 
 vessels, the great citadel, the forum and many other things 
 of interest and all the time no one could see him. By this 
 time they had reached the palace. Minerva stood and in- 
 formed Ulysses of these people, and told him he should be 
 kept up in their presence, and many other things graceful 
 in his decorum, and always remember his dignity of like 
 import, after which she left him to himself. 
 
 Ulysses stood in the garden of this imposing structure 
 bewildered. The winding paths and beautiful shrubbery, 
 and great statues of gods and goddesses were amazing ; the 
 roof of the palace was of gold, the doors were of gold, win- 
 dows of crystal rock, the lintels of the doors were of silver, 
 with gold and silver statues of lions "rampant" to guard 
 the entrance. In the halls were hardwood hall trees and 
 mahogany and rosewood resting lounges. The walls far- 
 ther within the palace were decorated with the finest tapes- 
 tries, woven with gold and silver threads; the lace curtains 
 were finer than Beotia lace, which were made of the fibers 
 of flea-wings. On in the palace were long upholstered 
 couches, where great polished mirrors, made of tortoise 
 shell and mother-of-pearl, were set in the walls, with great 
 candelabra hung at appropriate places. 
 
 The sound of music was always in evidence in this great 
 room, night and day, for here was where the princess was 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 63 
 
 seated with thirty or forty maids, all beautifully gowneu 
 and all possessed of natural beauty. Here they were trying 
 to entertain the princess. The King's retinue was very 
 large, her servants in the palace alone numbering several 
 thousand. Great gold statues of nude maidens held lighted 
 candles, made of turtle fat, that shed a peculiar iridescence 
 over the room, that filled one with ecstasy. The designer 
 of this room was surely one of fastidious tastes, for there 
 were many other charming fixtures that contributed 
 towards making this palace an earthly paradise. Just back 
 of the palace lay the royal gardens, full of pomegranates, 
 oranges, dates, olives, figs, bananas, nuts and all the good 
 things that grow in tropical regions. The large cedar trees, 
 redolent with their famed odors, perfumed the whole 
 grounds. The nightingale inhabited these gardens; also 
 birds of paradise. The faint voice of the Sirens could be 
 heard in the distance. Phosphorus was pasted on the wings 
 of tamed doves, and they were trained to continuously fly 
 about over this garden in the evening to give it a soft 
 changing glow. 
 
 Ulysses was entranced; he stood and gazed in utter 
 amazement on entering. He could see all, but no one could 
 see him for the cloud with which Minerva had enveloped 
 him was still with him. Ulysses went on into the large 
 convention hall, where all of the king's court had assem- 
 bled, offering libations to Mercury, when Minerva disman- 
 tled the cloud that shielded him. He at once felt he was 
 seen by the royal assemblage, and turned directly to the 
 queen, kneeling before her and with suppliant gesture ask- 
 ing her if she would aid him to return to his native land. 
 
 After he had made known his wants, he calmly sat by 
 the royal hearth for some moments. The hall was quiet, 
 until one of the king's chiefs arose and addressed the assem- 
 bly, saying it was not showing proper respect or good man- 
 
64 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 ners to allow the stranger to wait there in suspense; that 
 it was their duty to offer him food and wine, and try and 
 comfort him at once. At this the King himself rose from 
 the table and took Ulysses by the hand, and led him to a 
 seat beside himself. After the feast was over, the King 
 told his court they would convene the next day and decide 
 what they would do to comfort their new guest. Then he 
 dismissed them — all but Ulysses. The King and Queen 
 were now alone with Ulysses, and asked him many ques- 
 tions. They first noticed the garments he was wearing 
 were garments made by their people. Ulysses, in answer 
 to their questions, told them his experience in the Calypso 
 Isle, and how he had been shipwrecked, and the whole ex- 
 perience in detail. The King was very much entertained 
 by his narratives of adventure, and informed him he would 
 be proud to be of aid in returning him to his home and 
 people. 
 
 This matter was brought up the next day before the 
 imperial council, and they all agreed upon the same thing, 
 and that was that Ulysses should be helped on his way 
 home by giving him ships and provisions or anything else 
 he might have need of on the passage. The King secured 
 a great number of his strongest galley-slaves to row the 
 boat in which he was to leave their island, and before they 
 would think of letting him go they insisted on a banquet 
 first, and then to the arena for an afternoon of enjoyment 
 in the national sports of the island. The King desired to 
 show Ulysses how agile and supple his young men were in 
 their wrestling, running, vaulting and boxing, and many 
 other arts of enjoyment. After they had shown their skill 
 in the arena, the King asked Ulysses if he could do any- 
 thing in this line, to show to them if the world produced 
 anyone that was anything like their own in proficiency. 
 Many of the King's best exponents of the national games 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 65 
 
 challenged Ulysses for a trial, but at first Ulysses said that 
 being a stranger in their land and a guest of the King he 
 would much rather decline the invitation. 
 
 But one of the young men, who was considered the cham- 
 pion of all of the King's entertainers in athletic sports 
 would not accept "No" for an answer, and took Ulysses by 
 the hand and pulled him into the arena. Ulysses carelessly 
 picked up a quoit that was much too heavy for any of the 
 native exponents to use, but he threw the quoit at such a 
 distance they were astonished at his strength and looked 
 at him in utter amazement. Many other feats were per- 
 formed by Ulysses, and after the games they went back 
 to the palace, where they all congregated and in a moment 
 the page led in Demodocus, the blind bard. (Could this 
 have been Homer?) They were all quiet. The Bard took 
 for his theme the "Wooden Horse." This was the same 
 wooden horse Ulysses had caused to be made so they could 
 enter Troy by strategy. The human tongue had never 
 uttered anything more beautiful before than this poem. 
 
 When he had finished they all applauded him except 
 Ulysses. He was so deeply reminded of the past, and of 
 his dead comrades and his wife and son at home that he 
 commenced to weep. Whereupon the King, observing this, 
 turned to him and demanded to know why he should be- 
 come so emotional on hearing the poem recited on the ex- 
 ploits of heroes and the wooden horse in the Trojan War. 
 He further questioned Ulysses to know if he had lost 
 friends or relatives there, or had lost property on account 
 of this conflict, or what could it be that should make him 
 shed tears on mentioning this war. Ulysses could not with- 
 hold his true identity any longer. He informed the King 
 that he was Ulysses, the very man who had helped win the 
 war, and the very one who had given birth to the idea of 
 the wooden horse that culminated in the fall of Troy. 
 
66 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Ulysses went on and related the adventures of his life, from 
 the time he had left Troy until he had been cast on the 
 shores of their island. This made the King and people 
 kneel before their guest and almost worship him. They 
 loaded him down with costly gifts, and did everything that 
 was in their power to make him happy and comfortable. 
 
 In a short time Ulysses sailed away from the island of 
 the Phaeacians for his own dear country. He had not for- 
 gotten the princess, but he was too noble a hero to make 
 overtures of love to her, for he told her he had a wife and 
 family back home and, of course, a sensible woman would 
 readily understand that he was not destined to be her hus- 
 band, at least at that time. 
 
 After a long, tiresome voyage the vessel landed in one 
 of the ports of his own country. But Ulysses was sound 
 asleep when the ship made port, and they did not want to 
 disturb his slumbers, so they carried him on the shore, with 
 his trunk of presents that had been given him, and laid 
 them at his side. Then these sailors sailed away towards 
 their own country. Neptune, the great sea god, was not at 
 all pleased at his failure in drowning Ulysses in the past 
 trials he had had with him, and was particularly vexed at 
 the Phaeacians for saving him and bringing him back home. 
 To pay them back for this on their return he transformed 
 their ship into a rock just at the harbor's mouth, that is 
 formed (or at one time was said to have resembled) the 
 form of the ancient ships. This small island, or rock, looks 
 very much like a modern steamboat silhouetted against the 
 blue horizon. 
 
 We have read of the "Seven Sleepers of Ephesus" and of 
 Washington Irving's "Rip Van Winkle," the man who slept 
 twenty years, and from these stories can gather something 
 of an idea how one feels and what one thinks on awaken- 
 ing from such a prolonged slumber. Ulysses had not slept 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 67 
 
 but a few hours, altho long enough to be wholly shifted 
 from his environment, for while he slept he was landed on 
 his home soil, from which he had been absent for twenty 
 years, and when he awoke no one was near that he knew, 
 and he was unaware of the fact that he had been taken from 
 the ship, and all that was near him was his trunk that con- 
 tained the treasures given him by the Phaeacians and this 
 was of little comfort to him — perhaps more of an encum- 
 brance than a help. There he was! He looked about and 
 everything looked so strange to him he was not sure at 
 first that he had really been landed in his home country, 
 until Minerva came to him in the form of a peasant and in- 
 formed him he was in his own land. She also informed 
 Ulysses that his wife Penelope was still living, altho every- 
 one supposed him to be dead, and that scores of nobles had 
 pressed their unwelcome overtures on her and had occupied 
 his premises in his absence, thinking, of course, he was 
 dead, which would naturally set her free to marry again. 
 Penelope always loved Ulysses and was true to him at 
 home and abroad, while he was absent or near, in truth and 
 in deed. She had undergone many unpleasant experiences 
 in remaining chaste and undefiled, for every pressure had 
 been brought to bear to win her love and her body, but she 
 was a noble, high-minded woman, and would not have any 
 lovers. 
 
 She was not like the wife of Enoch Arden, in Tennyson's 
 poem, who was pure, only had given up thinking her hus- 
 band was still living and married another man, and when 
 Enoch came home one night and carefully went to the win- 
 dow and looked in on them and saw her sitting there, as 
 she had done many times when he was at the head of the 
 household, with her sewing and knitting, and the children 
 playing about on the floor before the old fireplace, and little 
 children that he was not the father of besides, and then 
 
68 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 to look up as he did and see her husband number two go 
 over to her and plant an affectionate kiss on her brow. In 
 this case what could poor Enoch do? He did just what he 
 should have done. He shed a few tears and walked away, 
 never to return, for it would have been easy for him to ruin 
 the happiness of all of them. Penelope did not do this. She 
 felt that Ulysses would some day return to her, which he 
 did. Penelope had Spartan blood in her veins, for she was 
 the daughter of Scarus, and he was so fond of her he did all 
 in his power to keep her at home and not let her marry 
 and go from him, but her father was not domineering in 
 his paternal precepts, altho he told her she could take her 
 choice — go with Ulysses or stay with him. She made no 
 answer, but her actions spoke louder than words could have 
 for it is said she dropped her veil and came away with 
 Ulysses. This was a proof of her modesty and humility. 
 
 Their married bliss was of short duration, for after a 
 single year Ulysses joined the Greek forces before Troy. 
 In his absence she had grown to blossom in full woman- 
 hood, when women are really the most beautiful. And 
 she was so attractive in her ways, and had so many charm- 
 ing qualities, that men of all kinds and stations pressed 
 their suits so hard that she oftentimes thought she would 
 have to marry to get away from this ubiquitous difficulty. 
 But Penelope was as many women are — very resourceful, 
 especially in times of emergency. She would procrastinate 
 and put them off, first with one excuse and then another. 
 One of her excuses was the making of a robe for Laertes, 
 that was to be his covering in death. This Laertes was her 
 father-in-law, so the excuse appeared very plausible. She 
 solemnly agreed to make her choice among the many 
 suitors as soon as the robe was finished. She would work 
 at it all day and at night would undo what she had done. 
 She felt in her heart that when her husband did return she 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 69 
 
 would see that he punished these men for the obtrusive 
 overtures they had made to her in his absence. When 
 Ulysses had got his bearings, and had once more felt that 
 he was on his native soil, he started on his way home, but 
 he was changed or metamorphosed into a mendicant beg- 
 gar, which made him look frightful and repugnant to all 
 who beheld him. Eumeus, one of the old servants of his 
 household was aware of all this change and he received 
 him. 
 
 Telemachus*, son of Ulysses, had been away for a long 
 time in search of his illustrious father, and had visited the 
 courts of many kings at home and abroad. He had been 
 unsuccessful in locating his paternal ancestor, however, and 
 the time now had arrived when Minerva must do something 
 to aid him in his search. Minerva did not help him in find- 
 ing his father, but came to him and informed him that he 
 must go to his home in Ithaca. Telemachus arrived home 
 shortly after his father, and instead of going into the front 
 door of the palace at his home, he went in by the servants' 
 entrance. He was received by Eumeus, and asked many 
 questions regarding his mother and if they had had any 
 tidings from his father. As he was propounding these 
 questions to the old seneschal, an old beggar (who was his 
 father disguised), stood near and the old servant introduced 
 him as the old "beggar." 
 
 ♦Among the many places that Telemachus visited while in 
 search of his father was Calipso's Isle, or the Isle of Gozo. The 
 Goddess repeated the same desires to the son she had to the 
 father. She offered to share her immortality with him if he would 
 stay. But Minerva, in the form of Mentor, watched over him and 
 gave him secret strength to repel her allurements. Even with 
 Mentor's help, they had great difficulty in making their exit from 
 the island. They were finally compelled to leap into the sea and 
 ewim to other ports to get from her powerful influence. 
 
70 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Telemachus went in the back way, partly because the 
 many suitors that were determined to win his mother were 
 looking for a chance to do away with him, for they were 
 of the opinion that he was partly the cause of his mother 
 acting as she had about refusing to marry any of them. 
 He quietly sent the old servant for his mother to come 
 down into the back kitchen and see him; that he had re- 
 turned from his unsuccessful quest after his father, 
 Ulysses. After he had sent for his mother he was tenta- 
 tively called away. Penelope came rushing in, and as soon 
 as she came into the kitchen Ulysses took on his natural 
 appearance and was even made as young and vivacious as 
 when he first married her twenty years before. What a 
 meeting this must have been ! What joy to both to be re- 
 united, especially when they both had remained chaste and 
 true to each other thruout this long period. After they had 
 embraced, Telemachus, his son, stepped in. He could see 
 that the beggar had changed his aspect from that of a 
 beggar to a perfect middle-aged man. Ulysses explained 
 why he had been thus changed and went on to explain who 
 had done the transfiguration, and why it was done, and all 
 the particulars. Telemachus could hardly wait for him to 
 finish speaking until he embraced him, and they kissed each 
 other and indulged their long pent-up sorrow in tears of 
 joy. After they had passed a few hours together a long 
 counsel was held over the problem of punishing the men 
 who had been devoting their time with so much assiduity to 
 courting Penelope, mother and wife respectively to Telem- 
 achus and Ulysses. It was so arranged between them that 
 Ulysses would take on the old disguise of a beggar, while 
 Telemachus would go on as before and attend to his social 
 duties as tho nothing had occurred. In those days it was 
 said to have been a custom for the eupetride, or highest 
 families, to have beggars call at their homes and relate 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 71 
 
 stories of their adventures and entertain them in any way 
 they could. So Ulysses assumed this role. 
 
 The following evening many suitors and guests arrived 
 at Penelope's mansion, and they were all feasting and en- 
 joying the stories of the "beggar," who was Ulysses in dis- 
 guise; Telemachus was there among them, only con- 
 tinuously on his guard for fear of bodily harm by some 
 one of the suitors. It was almost a riotous evening, for 
 many of the guests had indulged too freely in Penelope's 
 Falernian wine. While Ulysses was engaged in one of his 
 beggar stories, his old dog that he had not seen for twenty 
 years, whom he had named Argus, recognized his old mas- 
 ter and behaved in such a manner this alone nearly gave 
 the whole thing away, for Ulysses could not keep back the 
 tears, for even the dog was glad to see his master back 
 home again. Ulysses was forced to see some of these 
 suitors go up to Penelope and pat her on the cheek, and 
 sit near her and make unwelcome overtures to her. This 
 ground on him, but he kept his anger back with great 
 difficulty. In feasting, the suitors compelled the "beggar" 
 to go back into the rear hall and eat his food away from 
 the rest of the guests. In pushing him away on one oc- 
 casion, his temper was raised and he made some slight 
 complaint before he thought and the suitor struck him. 
 The son was about to remonstrate at this treatment of his 
 disguised father, but he, too, thought he had better wait. 
 
 It was a custom in those days for guests to have their 
 feet bathed, and a nurse was kept by the rich for this pur- 
 pose. Penelope had asked their old nurse to wash the 
 guests' feet and she proceeded to go on with her duties, 
 and when she came to Ulysses she recognized on one of 
 his feet a scar that caused her to shout out with a loud 
 impromptu cry, manifesting her discovery. In some way 
 the old nurse was quieted, and did not explain to the 
 
>]2 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 guests what she meant by shouting as she had. The many- 
 suitors had come to a point where they were going to de- 
 cide once and for all who was to marry Penelope, and they 
 decided that this important question must be settled that 
 very evening. Penelope, under duress, was forced to choose 
 the way they would decide on the lucky man. 
 
 After meditating awhile she decided that she would 
 place twelve rings upon the wall as targets and the one 
 who pierced the twelve rings without missing once was 
 the one she would consent to marry. There was an old 
 bow on the wall that had hung there for years and this 
 was the one Penelope decided should be used. First one 
 and then another endeavored to attach the cord, but none 
 of them were strong enough to bend the bow. Ulysses 
 stood back watching them as they were making failures 
 in their attempts to string the bow. Finally he said he 
 thought he could do it, saying to them that he had at one 
 time been a soldier and was used to the instruments of 
 warfare. They ridiculed and would have thrown him out 
 of the house had not Telemachus intervened and saved his 
 father this embarrassment. However, they allowed the 
 "beggar" to try his skill in replacing the cord. He took 
 the bow and bent it with apparent ease and attached the 
 cord. They only gave him a supercilious laugh after he 
 had done this. They all tried their markmanship. Some 
 of them did fairly well but none of them had pierced the 
 twelve rings. The "beggar" against asked their permission 
 to fire at the marks. They laughingly allowed him to try, 
 at the same time thinking that Penelope would never tol- 
 erate such a man for her husband even if he was success- 
 ful in hitting the mark twelve consecutive times. He took 
 the bow and pierced the dozen rings in less time than it 
 takes to tell it. He had no more than shot the last arrow 
 before he had another across the bow, and cried, "You are 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 73 
 
 my next !" as he fired. He was referring to the suitor who 
 had been so insolent to him all the evening. The arrow 
 killed him instantly. 
 
 The men servants and Telemachus sprang forward; all 
 were well armed with bows and arrows except the suitors. 
 The old servant had scented trouble before the evening 
 party ended, and had locked all the doors and windows 
 so they could not find arms to fight with and could not 
 escape. Ulysses stepped forth and said : "O, you who have 
 tried to ruin me and mine in my absence I" This was the 
 exordium to his speech and at this he was transformed to 
 his natural self, at which they all recognized him. He went 
 on: "I am Ulysses. I have come home to my family. You, 
 in my absence, have endeavored to ruin me and mine. You 
 have forced your unwelcome proposals upon a pure woman. 
 You have threatened to murder my son. You have endeavored 
 to pollute the sanctity of my home and to undermine and root 
 out everything that was sacred, tender and pure in my house- 
 hold. But I have you now where I will both judge, sentence 
 and execute. ,, At this he kills each and every one of his wife's 
 aggressive and obtrusive suitors."* 
 
 *For illustrative poems see: Byron's "Bride of Abyas;" Shake- 
 speare's "Troilus and Cressida;" Milton's "Comus," and the "Odys- 
 sey/' by Homer, which means Ulysses. 
 
74 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 ULYSSES TO PENELOPE 
 
 Dear Penelope, Fm home to live again ! 
 
 Dear Penelope, I'm home to love again! 
 
 What profit I if all the world be mine? 
 
 What profit I if all is mine but thine? 
 
 Now I am back where peace and love are one ; 
 
 Now I am back nor will I do as done 
 
 In years gone by for Helen, she for I — 
 
 Would she leave love for me or would she die, 
 
 As I have died more times than digits tell? 
 
 Some days were cold, some nights were living hell. 
 
 I fought for men, for Gods, I fought for Greece, 
 
 Nor have I fought to fight but fought for peace. 
 
 My name shall live, let coming ages tell 
 
 My "Wooden Horse" that won where Hector fell. 
 
 Here heroes met, with javelin, spear and bow, 
 
 But must give way for I taught them to know 
 
 That wisdom's first, the cunning, clever class 
 
 Are Olympian Gods and men not of the mass, 
 
 That they instil mind's essence all their own. 
 
 It conquers kings and men, all flesh and bone. 
 
 Now I'm at home — Jove see that I may stay! 
 
 Dear heart, Fm back — that word I love to say! 
 
 I woman saw, but I am chaste and clean, 
 
 Tho far away but none have come between. 
 
 Parents made you pure but heaven kept you true ; 
 
 War took away, Jove brought me back to you. 
 
 Time we cannot take, we always have to give, 
 
 I used to want to die — but now I care to live. 
 
 With heaven's help I'll stay, from you I'll never go, 
 
 The tears never shed are the tears that never flow. 
 
 I'm done with care and strife and causing men to bleed, 
 
 I'll take my son and wife and let the world recede. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 75 
 
 THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS 
 
 After giving the story of the Trojan War we can go back 
 to Rome and its mythology. 
 
 There are different stories narrated as to the adventures 
 of this hero, so I will give a prose translation from different 
 poems and different authors and will fill in all parts to make 
 the context as substantial as is possible under these cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 Virgil, in his ^neid, follows iEneas to Italy by way of 
 Carthage, where he meets Dido, who falls deeply in love 
 with him, and who finally resorts to suicide to end her 
 agonizing heartaches that have been brought on by un- 
 requited love and his abrupt departure for the Italian shores, 
 where he felt he was being called to found a new city. 
 
 While Troy was in flames yEneas, with his father, An- 
 chises, on his shoulder, and with his son and wife trailing 
 on behind, made his way out of this terrible conflagration. 
 His wife, in his furtive exit, was lost and ^Eneas could never 
 recover her. When he got far out of the city many people 
 of his own country swarmed about him and made him their 
 master. They made preparations by equipping vessels and 
 in a short time embarked. They first landed in Thrace, 
 where ^Eneas would have founded a new Troy had it not 
 been for the twig that he had broken which shed a stream 
 of blood as tho it had a vascular system like that of an 
 animal. After he had broken the twig the second time he 
 heard the voice of a human being utter the words "yEneas, 
 spare me ! I am thy kinsman Polydore, murdered here by 
 many arrows. From my blood this bush has sprung." 
 ^Eneas understood this, for he now remembered this prince 
 was sent here to be a safe distance from the terrible war 
 that was in progress at Troy ; his father had sent him away 
 with many treasures, but on his arrival at this land his 
 treasures were confiscated and he was killed. 
 
76 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 This made ^Eneas feel very disconsolate, and he did not 
 hesitate long, but embarked for the promised land. On their 
 way to the Italian peninsula they stopped at the Island 
 of Delos, where they received an oracle from Apollo that 
 was given with so much ambiguity that there was much 
 doubt as to its real meaning. It was: "Seek thy ancient 
 mother, and ^Eneas and his race shall reduce and conquer 
 other nations, which will give forth a new state and cradle a 
 new people/' He interpreted this as meaning his fore- 
 fathers, who were originally from Crete, and so from Delos 
 they sailed to Crete, but here sickness and plague drove 
 them on to Hesperia, the land where tradition claimed Dar- 
 danus had migrated. This was an attraction to JEneas, for 
 Dardanus was the founder of Troy, and the Dardanelles (or 
 straits between Europe and Asia) were named after him. 
 Hesperia was the ancient name for Italy. After many 
 months and many terrible adventures they arrived on the 
 Italian shores. 
 
 On their way they had landed on an island where they 
 were horror-stricken by Harpies or monstrous birds with 
 heads like maidens. Their claws were long and their faces 
 bore a jejune appearance that was haunting in character. 
 JEneas and his company prepared their first meal on the 
 shore of this Harpies' island, and as soon as the food was 
 served they would dash down and grasp it with their long 
 talons and fly away. 
 
 (The birds in Ceylon today are something similar to the 
 Harpies, except they have a normal bird's features. They 
 come into your window and take the food from your plate 
 if you are not on the alert every moment. They also take 
 your comb and brush and jewels from your dresser if you 
 do not lock them up. This seems very possible to me since 
 I saw these pragmatic and pertinacious birds of Ceylon.) 
 
 ./Eneas soon tired of this island and went on his way to 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 77 
 
 Italy. Near the shores they passed another island where 
 Polyphemus, the Cyclop, waded out toward them ; his mons- 
 trous form was so imposing that they became frightened 
 and applied their oars and got away to a safe distance as 
 soon as was possible. The terrible sounds they heard within 
 the straits were the two monsters they had been warned 
 of — Scylla and Charybdis, which were reefs and whirlpools 
 that could suck down their small ships with one gulp. To 
 avoid this perilous strait iEneas steered his ship along 
 the coast of Sicily. It was here that Juno saw her chance 
 to satiate her old grievance and she sent ^Eolus orders to 
 send Typhon and Boreas to raise the winds and cast the 
 waves over their ships, which blew them far out of their 
 course toward the shores of Africa. This terrible storm 
 separated the fleet of small ships and Mne&s was sure some 
 of his party were lost. But Neptune came to iEneas' rescue 
 and calmed the sea and aided him in locating the lost ships 
 of his comrades. 
 
 By this time they had recovered their normal composure. 
 They discovered they were just opposite the coast of 
 Carthage where they went ashore. Carthage was a newly 
 founded city at this time, and was governed by a beautiful 
 Queen who was the daughter of a Tyrian King by the 
 name of Belus. This wonderful princess Dido had in for- 
 mer days done somewhat as ^neas was now doing. She 
 had taken a large number with her and had started from 
 Tyre and landed at this spot, and when she arrived she 
 asked the natives for a small piece of ground, saying 
 a piece that an ordinary cow's hide would cover would be 
 acceptable. They granted this, but Dido was cunning; 
 she had the hide cut in narrow strips and strung it along 
 until it covered many acres. Here she built a large citadel 
 on a promontory, and named it Byrsa, which meant in the 
 vernacular "hide." 
 
78 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Dido received ^Eneas with courteous hospitality, and to 
 entertain him set out at once to relate some of her own 
 adventures, and made the fact known that she was always 
 more than willing to do whatever she could that would be 
 of service to strangers in a strange land; informing him 
 that she had been a creature of circumstances and that 
 she had been taught by her own unpleasant experiences 
 of the past that one was in duty bound to offer aid to 
 those who are worthy, whether they are strangers or old 
 acquaintances. To make things pleasant for her new guest 
 she arranged for a national festival with games and all 
 phases of athletic exhibitions. 
 
 iEneas gave her his life's story and the events of the 
 Trojan War that he had just passed thru. He related this 
 to her in detail. This Dido listened to with great interest, 
 and became very fond of him. He reciprocated her tender 
 overtures and seemed content to give up his original in- 
 tention of going farther to seek a desirable place to build 
 a city. He summed up the matter in thinking, why should 
 he go farther when Providence had placed him in the arms 
 of a beautiful Queen who had already founded a city and 
 who had untold riches besides personal beauty. 
 
 Months rolled on, and in course of time Dido became so 
 fond of ^Eneas she could not dissemble her affections and 
 on the contrary made them manifest to him. He must 
 have realized by now that he had allowed her to care for 
 him too much, for well did he know that Jupiter had des- 
 tined him to go farther in quest of a desirable spot to build 
 his empire, and he surely could realize what a heart-rend- 
 ing parting this would eventuate in. 
 
 He finally was compelled to tell her that the gods had 
 ordered that he was to go to Italy. This proved a great 
 shock to her, for she was a classical princess and very 
 high-minded, and being of that makeup it wounded her 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 79 
 
 pride and broke her heart as well. She had not sufficient 
 fortitude to withstand the shock, and. to obtain relief she 
 arranged a funeral pyre, mounted the wood she had ar- 
 ranged and stabbed herself. ^Eneas could see the burn- 
 ing pyre as his vessels were at sea on their way to Italy. 
 After making a short stop at Sicily he at last arrived on 
 the shores of Italy. 
 
 They disembarked at Cumse, and as soon as TEneas 
 stepped on shore about the first to greet him was the Sibyl. 
 iEneas related his troubles to her and she gave him en- 
 couragement to go on, and not let little things that might 
 come up before him in life blight his future ; that he must 
 keep on trying. "Yield not to distress but press onward the 
 more bravely," she advised. ^Eneas had lost his father 
 since he had started on this voyage, which distressed him 
 greatly, and he had a request to ask of the Sibyl that he 
 wanted very much for her to grant, and that was: would 
 she lead him to and thru the abode of the dead that he 
 might see his beloved father, for he wanted to know what 
 he was to do in the immediate future, and many other 
 things that he could only know in this way. The Sibyl 
 readily consented to this, and informed him that first of 
 all he would have to go to a certain forest that two doves 
 would lead him to, and pluck a branch. When this branch 
 was plucked another would sprout out in its place at once, 
 and by that he would know if he had plucked the right 
 branch, ^gneas did as directed and returned with the 
 broken twig. They now started on their way to the in- 
 fernal regions. 
 
 They were located near Vesuvius, the volcano that 
 many years after covered Pompeii and Herculaneum. 
 There was supposed to have been, in those days, a small 
 body of water called Lake Avernus, in an extinct volcano. 
 Sulphuric gases arose from this lake and hideous trees 
 
80 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 grew at the shores of it. The water was black and very 
 deep. Nothing in the form of animal life could live on 
 or near this body of water. Before entering the Gates of 
 Hades, which were here, iEneas was asked to make sac- 
 rifices to Proserpine, the Queen, whose throne was here, 
 and also to Hecate and the Furies. iEneas and the Sibyl 
 entered and went on their way exploring the chambers of 
 Hades. The first things he encountered were the many 
 shades or souls suffering with disease, grief, cares, age, 
 insanity, toil, poverty and death ; all as they were when 
 they entered. Some had swarthy complexions, others dark 
 and fuliginous, sooty and unwholesome. 
 
 ^neas would have lost his courage, but the Sibyl re- 
 proached him, telling him he must muster all his manhood 
 for the worst was yet to come. Some had their hair done 
 up with vipers, and poisonous snakes were wrapped about 
 their necks. Briareus, the hundred-armed monster, was 
 there with Chimera and Hydras, blowing and hissing 
 their smoky and poisonous breath from their nostrils. 
 They finally reached the River Cocytus; Charon was there 
 gowned in his usual garb in lackadaisical posture ready to 
 receive his passengers. His bald head and what little hair 
 he had was long and white; his complexion was of ashen 
 grey, with deep-set eyes that lent a frightful and forebod- 
 ing aspect as ^neas beheld him. Still the old man was 
 very busy filling his boat with all manner of souls — the old, 
 the young, the decrepit and the strong, were all seeking 
 passage, and all clamoring to be ferried across, presenting 
 their coin that they had just removed from their mouths 
 for their fare. But Charon would not accept many of 
 them. There were many that were not eligible to cross 
 the river so he drove them away with his paddle. 
 
 Charon wanted to know why ^Eneas was there, and why 
 he should want to survey these quarters while he was 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 81 
 
 still living, and that he could not ferry him across under 
 such circumstances and that he would have to explain 
 himself before he could offer him passage. But iEneas 
 presented the branch that he had plucked in the forest, 
 which served as a passport for him, while the Sibyl came 
 forward and explained matters to the satisfaction of 
 Charon, until he was satisfied that it was well to let him 
 pass over the river. 
 
 When they had reached the opposite shore the three- 
 headed dog, Cerberus, was the first to greet them with 
 his terrible shrill voice. Many children in agony could be 
 heard in the distance; also those who had committed sui- 
 cide, and those who died of remorse or had succumbed to 
 a broken heart. Among these was Dido, whom iEneas 
 had nearly forgotten. He took a long, penetrating look, 
 and then apologized to her for his abrupt departure from 
 Carthage, and asked her to forgive him. But Dido only 
 gave him a moment's glance and then looked downward 
 and walked slowly away in an evasive, tho not an arrogant 
 manner without uttering a single word to him. Next they 
 came to the fallen heroes of the Trojan War, both Greeks 
 and Trojans. Many questions were plied to him by them 
 and some of the Greeks who had faced him in the battle- 
 field were still afraid of him and at the sight of his armor 
 ran away to get from his presence for safety. 
 
 From here they went on to a forked road where one 
 branch led to the Chamber of the Eternally Doomed and 
 the other to the Elysium. Near here was the gate of ada- 
 mant that no earthly power could swing ajar; Tisiphone 
 was at this gate. She was one of the Furies, and from be- 
 hind this gate would issue strange sounds, agonizing 
 shrieks and moaning, the clanking of chains and terrible 
 sounds as if some suffered from instruments of torture. 
 The Sibyl explained to yEneas that back of this gate of 
 
82 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 adamant was the Judgment Hall of Rhadamanthus, who by 
 his different modes of torture draws confessions from all 
 victims who has committed crimes in life and have been 
 able to go on thru life without being judged guilty by the 
 court of man. The gates were opened, and the first thing 
 to greet them was the fifty-headed Hydra. Then the lake 
 of Tartarus, that was called the bottomless pit, was before 
 them. In this pit laid a great multitude of Titans and the 
 proud Salmoneus who built the brass bridge to imitate 
 thunder, and by this relegate the majesty of Jupiter's back 
 and away. This he was sure he could do by driving 
 chariots across the bridge which would cause a sound to 
 rise to the heavens that would drown the voice of the 
 Olympian Jove. 
 
 There was apparent feasting here. Many were at tables 
 endeavoring to place the finest kind of food to their 
 mouths but it was always snatched from their grasp. All 
 classes of sinners were present; some who had purloined 
 their neighbor's property; some who had committed adul- 
 tery and all forms of evil. Sisiphus was here in the act 
 of rolling a huge stone up an incline, but as soon as he 
 had reached the apex it would roll back, so that he was 
 compelled to repeat the operation over and over again. 
 Ixon was in plain view, tied to a large wheel that was con- 
 tinuously revolving. Near by could be seen Tantalus, who 
 was placed in a body of fresh spring water that flooded 
 to his mouth but he was not allowed to drink, altho he was 
 dying of thirst. Each and every endeavor he would make 
 to appease his thirst, the water would vanish from his 
 lips ; food would likewise dematerialize from his grasp. 
 
 iEneas soon had sufficient of this class of scenery, and 
 the Sibyl must have taken compassion on him by now, for 
 she led him to the Elysian Fields, the realm of the blessed. 
 They passed thru a beautiful grove, where stars and 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 83 
 
 planets were shining thru the branches. The air was lucid 
 and sweet. They could see dancing and all manner of 
 games and sports. Orpheus was playing sweetly on his 
 lyre, music was on all sides, and heroes that had fought 
 with ^neas were about the plains and in the forest of 
 laurel trees. Poets were singing their newly made rhymes, 
 with beautiful maidens dancing about them in their diaphan- 
 ous gowns. The song birds were singing their sweet 
 melodies from the branches above, and stars (the eyes of 
 angels) were looking down upon the troubadours and ar- 
 tists who had contributed thru their relentless toil to beau- 
 tify the earth and invent new ways and means to lessen 
 the labor and mitigate the suffering of mankind. 
 
 It was here iEneas was to find his illustrious father, 
 Anchises. What a joyful meeting! All ^Eneas had been 
 thru had passed from his mind, for a moment's visit with 
 his father was worth it all. They could talk but could 
 not embrace each other, for ^Eneas was in the flesh and 
 his father was only a shadow. iEneas now had accom- 
 plished that which was most paramount in his mind. 
 Anchises went on with them, so that he might talk to his 
 son as they were walking. They had come to the Valley 
 of Oblivion, with the quiet running waters of the River 
 Lethe before them. Countless thousands of souls could 
 be seen up and down the shores of this stream waiting to 
 receive bodies for their souls. 
 
 "Here they are/' spoke Anchises. "See them drinking 
 the sweetness of their former lives/' 
 
 iEneas replied by saying, "How could any of them wish 
 even to think of their former lives while they are sur- 
 rounded with such glorious environments as there are 
 here?" 
 
 His father went on to explain the process of man's crea- 
 tion. He told iEneas that the human soul is made of fire, 
 
84 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 water, air and earth, and when they are mixed together 
 they cause friction that germinates flame. This substance 
 was thrown into space, which by a fast centrifugal move- 
 ment drew atoms of its own substance into itself, which 
 formed a neuclus or comet that continued attracting 
 heavenly substances until it became a star or planet, and 
 on these planets from this substance grew man, who con- 
 tains much that is impure and which becomes much more 
 impure as man increases in years. To become free from this 
 impurity the body must be purged thru disintegration; 
 the atoms must dissolve or crumble apart that the pure 
 winds can fan them and refresh them after the flame, the 
 original "sour' or pure substance that caused us in the 
 first place, has consumed or devoured us within itself, 
 which is the great essence. 
 
 Anchises went on to say that some were pure enough 
 to enter the Elysium at once, while others, when they are 
 bathed in the River Lethe, are sent back to their former 
 life but do not remember any part of it. And others are 
 so corrupt they are sent to the earth but are reincarnated 
 into an animal (transmigration of souls). After he had 
 explained this all to his son, he told him that he was to 
 found a great city and empire, that would in the future 
 rule the entire earth, and that he would be blessed with 
 children and a beautiful wife. He also informed him that 
 he had many battles and difficulties to encounter. 
 
 They now had seen all, and as they had gone above, out 
 of this underworld, ^Eneas thanked the Sibyl and told her 
 he would always reverence her, whether she be goddess 
 or mortal, and that he would build a temple for her and 
 would bring sacrificial offerings for her. She replied, "I 
 am not deserving of such, tho if I would have accepted 
 the love of Apollo I could have been immortal. He prom- 
 ised me whatever I would ask for and I kneeled and 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 85 
 
 grasped a handful of sand and said, 'Give me as many 
 years as there are grains of sand in my hand." This he 
 unhesitatingly did, but I forgot to ask for enduring youth. 
 I have three hundred summers yet to live, my form is with- 
 ering away, my limbs are weary and in time I shall dis- 
 appear altogether, but my voice shall remain and all ages 
 shall remember me and shall come to respect my memory." 
 
 THE ODYSSEY 
 
 After the death of Hector, the country was in a terrible 
 condition, but those who were left were inflexible and de- 
 termined to fight on, altho Hector was no more. New al- 
 lies came to their rescue, some from great distances. 
 Among them was Memmon from far-off Ethiopia; another 
 was a powerful woman of immense statue, by name Pen- 
 thesilea, Queen of the Amazons. She brought a band of 
 female warriors with her, who were very effectual in the 
 arts of war. However, Achilles saw no obstacle he could 
 not surmount, or no opponent he could not overcome, even 
 to this Queen of the Amazons, for he struck her down in 
 short order, but after he saw and realized what he had 
 done he either pretended or was sincere in his manifesta- 
 tions of grief. He gazed upon her reclining, inanimate 
 form, and it looked so physically perfect and beautiful to 
 him he was sorry he had been successful in doing away 
 with her. Some one of his own men ridiculed his behavior 
 to this dead Queen, telling him he was only wasting his 
 affections on that which wasn't worthy of a single thought. 
 This stirred his wrath until he slew the one who had the 
 temerity to utter such sentiments. 
 
 Achilles, like all before him and since, was still to meet 
 his mate, not only in battle, but one far more powerful 
 
86 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 and much more difficult to overcome. This was one who 
 pulled at his heartstrings instead of piercing him with 
 steel, and strange as it may seem she was destined to be 
 Priam's daughter Polyxena. Hesiod records that while 
 Achilles was at worship in the Temple of Apollo and ar- 
 ranging for the coming nuptials of himself and Polyxena, 
 he received an arrow from the bow of Paris which took 
 effect in his heel, the only part of him that was vulnerable 
 to mortal injury. It is plausible to conjecture that he was 
 on his knees before the altar of Apollo as the arrow was 
 fired, instead of being on the battlefield, for it would have 
 made an easy mark for Paris while in that position. And, 
 too, Paris undoubtedly knew where to fire the arrow to 
 poison Achilles. Achilles was very fond of Polyxena, or 
 he surely would not have run the chances he did by going 
 to the Temple and exposing himself to his enemies. Ajax 
 and Ulysses rescued his body. Ulysses was selected from 
 among the Greeks to wear the armor of Achilles. Ajax 
 was very much disappointed at not being selected as the 
 hero worthy of the honor above all the rest; being com- 
 pletely overcome by this disappointment he slew himself 
 on this very spot, and where his blood spurted on the 
 ground a flower sprang up that was named hyacinth be- 
 cause it bore the first two letters of his name. 
 
 Philoctetes, who had in earlier days of the war wounded 
 his foot, and had to be sent away to recover from his in- 
 jury, was now sent for. Achilles' son, Neoptolemus, and 
 Diomede, were sent to the island of Lemnos to escort him 
 back to the theatre of war. Philoctetes engaged Paris in 
 single combat, and it proved to be the undoing of Paris, 
 for he was wounded in the foot, the same as he had 
 wounded Achilles. This resulted in the death of Paris, 
 altho he could have been healed by Enone, the nymph, 
 who was endowed with healing powers. She could have 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 87 
 
 cur<!d him, but she remembered too well how Paris had 
 deserted her in early days for Helen, after he had married 
 her. Enone still loved Paris, for she relented and started 
 back to heal her former husband, but she was too late, 
 as Paris had succumbed to the inevitable. Enone was so 
 overcome with grief that he had left her for Helen and 
 lay stricken in death that she committed suicide by hang- 
 ing herself. 
 
 Things went on from bad to worse with the Trojans. 
 Still they would not give up as long as they had the Pal- 
 ladium in their possession. This was a statue of Minerva, 
 that was supposed to have fallen from heaven, and they 
 were firmly of the belief that as long as they could retain 
 this statue they could hold out, but thru the strategy or 
 cupidity or Diomede and Ulysses they entered the city and 
 carried this statue into their camp. Even now the brave 
 and undaunted Trojans would not throw down their arms, 
 and the Greeks were of the opinion they could not take 
 the city by storm or main force, so Ulysses resorted to 
 trickery which is fair in war. They pretended that they 
 had abandoned the field entirely, and sent their ships back 
 of an adjoining island. They then constructed a wooden 
 horse of immense size, now known in mythology as the 
 "Trojan Horse." They placed this horse near the walls 
 of Troy and secreted a large number of armed men with- 
 in. They let on that this horse was a sacred object, built 
 to propitiate the deity. After placing the horse in a stra- 
 tegic position, the Greeks went to some of their ships that 
 were in sight and sailed away, as tho they were going back 
 to their homes. This fooled the Trojans, for they threw 
 open the gates of their city and came out to view the horse, 
 rejoicing that they were once more free from the torment- 
 ing Greeks. 
 
 Among the many who were standing about this wooden 
 
88 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 horse was a Trojan priest by the name of Laocoon. He 
 was incredulous, and hushed them up in their rejoicing, 
 cautioning them as to the trickery of the Greeks. As he 
 spoke he struck the horse with his sword. A hollow sound 
 was heard, but at this moment a Greek captive was being 
 led forward overcome with fright, and pretended that to 
 save his own life he would answer all questions put to him. 
 This man Sinon was a confederate, whom the Greeks had 
 left behind purposely to misinform them. He went on to 
 say that the great horse was a sacred statue that had been 
 made heavy so that the enemy could not move it into the 
 city, for he had been told by a prophet that if the horse was 
 ever moved into the city it never could be taken, and that 
 the war would terminate in their favor. 
 
 Just as Sinon had finished his story, two great snakes ap- 
 peared, coming before them in the direction of the sea. The 
 people fled in every direction except towards the two mon- 
 sters. The serpents advanced to where Laocoon had stood, 
 and where he sounded the horse by throwing his sword 
 against it. Laocoon was not frightened as the others were, 
 and, with his two sons, stood their ground, but in a very 
 short time were encircled by these two serpents. They 
 were so tied up by the serpents that it was physically im- 
 possible for them to extricate themselves from their wind- 
 ing bodies. They breathed their poisonous effluvia into 
 Laocoon's face. He, with superhuman effort, endeavored 
 to save his two boys, but his efforts were all in vain. The 
 people were sure this bore significance of the gods' dis- 
 pleasure at Laocoon's throwing his sword irreverently at 
 the horse. This was sufficient proof to them, so, being 
 satisfied beyond the least doubt that the statue of the horse 
 was a sacred object, they at once hauled it inside of the 
 city's walls. This was all done with due solemnity, and in 
 a feeling of triumph. 
 
 That same night, while the city was feasting over the 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 89 
 
 glories of the preceding day, the soldiers within this fatal 
 horse were let out of its commodious body by Sinon, who 
 had also opened the gates of the city, and admitted the 
 Greeks, who had returned under the cover of night. Pan- 
 demonium reigned, the city was completely destroyed by 
 flames and its inhabitants were put to the sword. This was 
 the end of the Trojan War, a war that volumes have been 
 written about, a war that has been the subject of the great- 
 est poems extant, a war that we have no history of except in 
 legend or poetry, a war which many scholars have decided 
 was perhaps only a war of the elements, each element char- 
 acterized as a hero or monster, and christened with a name 
 commensurate to his assumed power. 
 
 After the burning of Troy, Priam, the king, was slain by 
 Pyrrhus, son of Achilles. Hecuba, his queen, and Cas- 
 sandra, his daughter, were taken to Greece, while Polyxena, 
 who was loved by Achilles, was sacrificed by burning on the 
 tomb of Achilles. Helen, who had been the cause of the 
 war, was now recovered by her husband, Menelaus, who 
 had forgiven and still loved her. Helen had lost favor with 
 the gods to a great extent, for on her return to her home 
 with Menelaus, the ship was cast from shore to shore, first 
 at Cypress, then Phoenicia and Egypt. In Egypt, Helen 
 was received with open arms. She was not only hospitably 
 entertained, but was tendered many valuable gifts, among 
 which was a golden spindle. She was feted with all the 
 choice viands and drinks that the land afforded. It was 
 here she was given Nepentha the wine that Poe speaks of 
 in his "Raven" and Milton in his "Comus." Helen and 
 Menelaus finally arrived in Sparta, their home, where they 
 spent the remainder of their lives in happiness, and where 
 they married their daughter Harmione to Neoptolemus, son 
 of Achilles, and where they entertained Telemachus, son 
 of Ulysses, many years after, while he was in that country 
 in search of his illustrious father. 
 
90 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 JASON AND THE GOLDEN FLEECE 
 
 Jason, son of iEson, who was distant kin to Bellerophon, 
 was inspired with the idea of seeking the Golden Fleece. 
 Jason built a ship called the Argo, the first large ship ever 
 built, taking its name from Argus, the builder. Its ship- 
 ping capacity was said to have been 50 men. As soon 
 as Jason made known his future plans, many recruited under 
 his banner. Many of these heroes were as courageous and 
 endowed with as much valor as was Jason. Castor and 
 Pollux, the twins that have since been used to represent 
 one of the twelve signs of the Zodiac, with Hercules, The- 
 seus, Meleger of Caladonian fame, and Pileus and Nestor 
 were some of the heroes who embarked with Jason. 
 
 The Argo was supposed to have left the snores of Thes- 
 saly in Greece. These Argonauts, as they have been and are 
 still called, first landed on the shores of Lemnos, an island 
 of the Greek Archipelago. From here they sailed across 
 to Thrace, where they took aboard a man of superhuman 
 wisdom by the name of Phineas. This Phineas was just 
 the man the captain was looking for, because Jason had 
 been philosophizing, in his nocturnal studies, how he would 
 pass the Symplegades, which were two floating islands 
 that they were compelled to sail between to enter the 
 Uxine Sea. (These straits are now called the Bosphorus.) 
 If the right channel was taken the islands could be passed ; 
 if not, the islands would come together and crush the ves- 
 sel with all on board. Phineas told them to send out a 
 carrier pigeon, which he did. The pigeon flew through be- 
 tween the islands, but was a fraction of a second too late, 
 for the clashing islands caught in its rocky vise some of 
 the bird's tail feathers, but otherwise safe and unhurt. 
 Jason could see by this when to start on his passage 
 through this rocky vise, for when the pigeon left this vise 
 of rocks he knew the islands were separating to make an- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 91 
 
 other clash. He now made his men row with more force 
 than usual and the Argo went through, but was grazed 
 somewhat on its stern-post. 
 
 After several days sailing they arrived at Colchis, which 
 is located at the extreme eastern end of the Black Sea, 
 where they disembarked, Jason going at once to the King 
 and making his mission known. King ^Etes was willing to 
 part with the Golden Fleece, but there were conditions by 
 which Jason would be compelled to abide. The conditions 
 stipulated in the agreement were that Jason was to hitch 
 two fire-breathing bulls with brazen feet to a plow and 
 that he should, after he had plowed the soil in this way, 
 sew the teeth of the dragon that Cadmus (founder of 
 Thebes) had killed. Jason well knew what this would cul- 
 minate into, that it would be a case of from Iamb to lion in 
 time. He knew that if he sowed these teeth that armed 
 soldiers would spring up from them. Even so, he felt he 
 would combat them if they interfered with his adventure 
 in procuring the Golden Fleece. 
 
 It happened to be, the King had a beautiful daughter by 
 the name of Medea, whom Jason could see it would be of 
 great help to him to make love to, and perhaps he could 
 use her at a good advantage later on. Jason had not under- 
 taken the sowing of the teeth as yet, for he knew he would 
 need a talismanic charm of some kind before he could ever 
 accomplish this terrible adventure. Jason and Medea were 
 married. After the nuptials were solemnized, she gave 
 him the necessary charm to proceed on his venture. The 
 day arrived for the plowing feat, and Jason went thru it 
 with fortuitous nonchalance, at the amusement of the Col- 
 chians. After the soil was made ready, Jason proceeded to 
 sow the teeth. He had not any more than finished sowing 
 the last row than up sprang the armed soldiers, just as had 
 been prophesied. They rushed in battle array upon Jason, 
 and his comrades were struck with a fit of lethargy. Their 
 
92 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 vacuous minds, that were rendered void by the shock, would 
 not tell their bodies to act for some moments. Jason drew 
 his sword and kept them at bay for a while. Medea was 
 frightened for the safety of her husband. Jason now re- 
 membered the charm that Medea had given him, and also 
 the instructions that went with it, and that was, in case 
 of such uprising he was to cast the "stone" or charm among 
 the soldiers that had materialized from the dragon's teeth. 
 This he did, and they at once began to fight each other, 
 and this they kept up until nearly all of them were lying 
 dead on the field. 
 
 Now Jason was free to go for the Golden Fleece, except 
 for one difficulty he was yet to encounter, and this was the 
 dragon that kept watch over this valuable fleece. Medea, 
 being of occult temperament, had some other charm at 
 hand, and Jason sprinkled over this dragon some of this 
 effective embrocation, which must have been supplied her 
 by the God Morpheus, that morphine is named from. The 
 dragon went to sleep, and Jason purloined the fleece with 
 ease, and took it to the good ship Argo, together with his 
 wife Medea and his comrades. Medea knew her father 
 would follow them, and to delay him she slew her youngest 
 brother and dropped the different members of his body 
 along the path of her flight. By this doubtful action they 
 got away safely and sailed to their home port. Not many 
 weeks after, Jason went to the king and presented the 
 Golden Fleece. 
 
 Jason still clung to Medea, his wife and his sorceress, 
 because he had use for her, not because he loved her, for 
 this had been his policy in success from the beginning and 
 so far it had been a remunerative one. After Jason conse- 
 crated or dedicated his ship Argo to Neptune, the Sea God, 
 he called upon Medea to restore his father iEson to virility 
 and vigor, congruous with youth. Medea, with chariot 
 drawn by dragons, flew thru the expanse of great oblivion 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 93 
 
 and infinitude, exhorting the gods and the goddesses, and 
 with incantations to Telles below and Hecate, Goddess oi 
 Darkness, flashing her wand as only she could to bring 
 each gesture to its right angle in conformity to the divine 
 rules that were necessary for her to abide by to succeed in 
 her mission. 
 
 For several days and nights she was away on this mission. 
 When she returned she built two altars, one to Hecate and 
 the other to Heba, where only black sheep were to be sacri- 
 ficed, with libations of milk and wine. She also appealed 
 to Pluto and Proserpine in ^Eson's behalf. She caused 
 sleep to come over iEson and sprinkled over him different 
 herbs. No one should behold him but the pure. Uttering 
 incantations, and with hair floating to the breeze, she ran 
 around his reclining body. In a large boiling pot that was 
 suspended by means of a three-legged crane, she had stones 
 and gravel from the shores of Cathay and the Hindoo Kush ; 
 flowers, herbs and leaves dipped in blood boiling; an owl's 
 head ; a raven's beak ; henbane ; also tortoise livers and en- 
 trails of wolves. This she kept boiling and boiling and 
 would at different times drop in olive branches and the fruit 
 of olives and many other ingredients unknown to us, and 
 wherever the steam would settle on the bark of near-by 
 trees, or on the ground, the young green bark would spring 
 forth; also, the grass from the soil where it chanced to 
 light. When the fluid in the boiling caldron was ready, 
 Medea cut the jugular vein and carotoid artery of his neck 
 and let the old man bleed until all of his old blood was 
 drawn away. She then poured the boiling fluid into his 
 vascular system, and iEson, the once old king, was re- 
 juvenated to the agility of athletic youth. 
 
 What a glorious awakening for him to find he had been 
 born in a few hours from an aged, decrepit wight to a spry, 
 vivacious youth. What wouldn't many of us give if this 
 could really be accomplished. I am not saying it has not 
 
94 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 been done in the past, for everything is possible with God, 
 and we do not know what he might have done in the long 
 period on earth that must have been before men had suffi- 
 cient wisdom to leave a record of their works behind them. 
 If it is true, and we have no reason to discredit it, that gods 
 lived on earth in common with man in the early ages, then 
 it is possible that by just operations thru the power of 
 some divine agency, mankind could have been rejuvenated. 
 If Medea would have only used her power in a noble way, 
 and would not have resorted to evil in cases where she per- 
 haps wanted to satiate her grievance on someone whom 
 she thought had harmed her, how much good she might 
 have accomplished ! But she did not do this. 
 
 Pelias, a relative of Jason, who had usurped his natural 
 heritage, was blessed with a beautiful daughter, who came 
 to Medea and petitioned her to restore her father also to 
 youth, as she had iEson. Medea agreed to do this without 
 any apparent reluctance, but instead of going to the trouble 
 of getting the proper constituents for the restoration, she 
 took water, put in a few handfuls of leaves and set them 
 to boiling in the caldron at night-time, which was singular, 
 for she had done differently with ^Eson. However, when 
 the fluid was ready for use, she asked the daughter of Peias 
 to cut her father's throat as she had cut iEson's before. 
 This she shrunk from and would not have done it under any 
 circumstances, but Medea surely had some extraordinary 
 power over her, for finally she agreed and turned her head 
 and slashed her father's throat. In turning, she did not 
 strike the vital spot and thei old man raised from his re- 
 clining posture and said, "My daughter, would you dis- 
 patch your father in this manner ?" 
 
 His voice frightened her and she dropped the knife and 
 could not finish the deed. Medea was now compelled to be- 
 gin where the daughter had left off. She cut his throat and 
 he bled to death. She then went thru her dissimulating 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 95 
 
 motions as before, but knew well they would be useless, 
 for the old man died. She pretended, however, that he 
 would be all right later on, and got out and away that no 
 harm would come to her by violence from those who would 
 discover later her dastardly trick. God always has a way 
 of serving a penalty for crime that one commits, especially 
 murder. We may avoid the laws of man, but we cannot 
 evade His law or Him. 
 
 She was to learn heart-rending news that would partly 
 pay the debt she had created, and was recorded on the debit 
 side of the heavenly ledger. Jason had fallen in love with 
 Creusa, a beautiful and young princess of Corinth. Medea 
 became so enraged at this that she at once resorted to her 
 disintegrating power to reduce Jason to atoms, if she 
 could, for she hated him as much now in proportion as she 
 had loved him before, although she did not outwardly mani- 
 fest the true feeling she entertained. She made, or had 
 others make, a garment for the woman Jason was about to 
 espouse and had it saturated with some kind of poison (as 
 it has been said Catherine de Medici did with gloves she 
 presented to one of Henry the Fourth's Court, which were 
 poisoned and would have killed the wearer had they not 
 been discovered in time). At the wedding, Jason's 
 new queen donned the poisoned robe and in a short time it 
 killed her. Medea also managed to kill her children and 
 destroy the palace by burning it. Then, she left her home 
 for Attica, where she married yEgeus, the reigning monarch 
 of Athens, who was the father of Thesseus, the prince who 
 killed the Monitor in the Labyrinth at Crete. 
 
 BELLEROPHON 
 
 Bellerophon conquered and rode the horse, Pegasus, that 
 terrible, winged equine that sprang from the blood oi the 
 
96 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Gorgon after Perseus had decapitated her head. This horse 
 could not be mounted or ridden by any who had so far 
 undertaken the experiment. Pegasus, the horse, was some- 
 thing in disposition as Alexander the Great's horse, Bu- 
 cephalus, is reported to have been, except that Pegasus 
 could not have resembled a horse very much if the descrip- 
 tion is true, for it is said that he had a head and forepart 
 like a lion, and the rest of him was that of a winged dragon. 
 In Lycia a great monster called the Chimera was devasting 
 the surrounding country. Iobates, the King, had been 
 long looking for someone who could conquer and dispose 
 of this animal. Bellerophon was sent to the king with this 
 purpose in view. Proteus, a relative of the king, recom- 
 mended that this youth would without doubt succeed, but 
 in the recommendation added that after he had dispatched 
 the Chimera, the king must do away with him in some 
 way. Proteus was suspicious of Bellerophon's too as- 
 siduous attentions to his wife, Antea, and thought this a 
 good way to dispose of him by having the king kill him 
 after he had rendered this beneficent favor to humanity. 
 
 However, things were arranged, and Bellerophon con- 
 quered Pegasus, which would have been no easy task had 
 not Minerva aided him. She gave him a golden bridle that 
 had taming properties connected with it in some way, for 
 while Pegasus was at the spring Pirene, Bellerophon 
 bridled him with ease and rode away in pursuit of the 
 Chimera, and destroyed the monster with little trouble. 
 After gaining this victory the king compensated him by 
 giving him his daughter in marriage, and made it known 
 that at his death Bellerophon would succeed him as their 
 king. Acquiring the victory over both Pegasus and the 
 Chimera had the tendency to make Bellerophon proud of his 
 power and prowess. He vaunted his feats of adventure to 
 others so much he drew the animadversion of the people 
 upon him ; also the Olympian gods and goddesses. He had 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 97 
 
 unlimited confidence in himself by this time, and even at- 
 tempted to fly to heaven, but Jupiter sent a bee that stung 
 Pegasus while on this flying tour of the upper world and 
 Pegasus kicked and reared, flapped his wings and threw 
 off the rider. This was the beginning of the end with both 
 Pegasus and Bellerophon. 
 
 RECORDED HISTORY 
 
 Real history cannot be classed as such unless it is called 
 so on its merit. By its merit I mean to construe the proof 
 that it is real history. Authentic historical events are the 
 recorded events of the human race, both natural and arti- 
 ficial. These events, to be proven, can and are computed 
 chronologically from some event that stands out in bold 
 relief, and with much more prominence than those of the 
 same period surrounding them. For example, we in com- 
 mon parlance say, "Why, that happened the year before 
 the Civil War," or "I remember well when he passed away ; 
 it was the day Garfield was inaugurated," etc. With such 
 proof, a thing is beyond question of doubt, especially when 
 recorded in the archives of history. But it is impossible to 
 go back into chronology and be sure that you are reading 
 events that happened at the time stated, unless they are 
 things that occurred since the Homeric age, and even then 
 we are not sure of the date that he lived, altho this we do 
 know: He left epic poems that were possibly not all his, 
 but they became so current among the people in the house- 
 hold, in cabals, on the streets, or at the games, that they 
 were used proverbially and as figures of speech to express 
 with more exuberance, tho perhaps with ambiguity, that 
 which they desired to convey. 
 
 The poems that are attributed to Homer were sung by 
 the multitudes, for it stimulated that heroic and romantic 
 
98 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 spirit that the men of those ages were so imbued with. It 
 was about this time that human thought was inscribed upon 
 papyrus (which was a leaf and when dried was like paper). 
 It was without question the first introduction of legible 
 characters to be transmitted to paper to purport the sub- 
 stance of their meditations and sentiment. Anterior to 
 this time, according to Sir Henry Rawlinson, the anthro- 
 pologist and archeologist, an alphabet in Babylon and 
 Nineveh, called the cuneiform characters, was discovered. 
 These were produced on soft ductile clay tablets, shaped 
 and then laid in the sun and baked to harden them. The 
 characters were, without doubt, the earliest used by man to 
 record events and convey thought. This, perhaps, ante- 
 dates the Greek alphabet by many years, but the world of 
 today has not been able to evolve from those crude records 
 much literature that has been of any particular value. So 
 we are compelled to return to Greece for the early records 
 of literature. 
 
 Prior to this time we are obliged to depend on legend, 
 tradition, natural history or paleontology; in the latter it 
 is self-generalized; it lies there imbedded in the rocks or 
 the strata of earth, and no human agency can prove the 
 time it was placed there. And still we know very well from 
 the scars that have been left on the earth by natural dis- 
 turbances as storms, comets and seismic shocks that they 
 did occur, and because they repeat themselves since the 
 human race has become more enlightened. In these early 
 milleniums of primeval existence they covered things as a 
 closed book would cover and crush a flower, and after many 
 years could open that book and discover the flower and 
 know it was a flower, but would not know whose hand and 
 at what period of time that hand had placed it there, It 
 could, in fact, be found out within a reasonable length of 
 time when the flower was placed in the book by the date 
 recorded on the title page of the publication of that book, 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 99 
 
 but the things that have been pressed between the "leaves" 
 of strata and volcanic ashes are plainly in evidence, but this 
 "book" of clay and rock bears no date of publication. There- 
 fore, we know that the world has been inhabited by man 
 and mammal far back into the night of ages, but we have 
 nothing to compute the time, to fix the period of the event 
 in the unknown past within a reasonable degree of ac- 
 curacy. 
 
 Then we must resort to that which offers itself to us as 
 the next best thing to determine periods of different events, 
 which is the science of geology, and when we say "geology" 
 we are stepping out of the province of history into the study 
 of fossils and prehistoric zoology to determine the age of 
 prehistoric events which are to a greater or less degree 
 scientific conjecture. That is one way of computing time to 
 fit periods of events. There is still another, and that is 
 called by its author, John Fiske, "linguistic archeology," or 
 the singing of ballads that were composed by some sage or 
 bard in a spirit of patriotism that was stimulated by the ac- 
 quirement of victory in battle. This ballad, which is with- 
 out doubt true in its general outline, tho by the over-zealous 
 spirit of patriotism or heroic stimulus, has involved the 
 poet in such superabundance of ecstasy that he has drawn 
 on his imagination and with hyberbole has delineated an 
 event that really occurred, but his framing it with scin- 
 tillating magniloquence has made it look (to a rational 
 thinker of later days) as tho it was nothing more than a 
 mythical story that was told to amuse instead of to instruct 
 or perpetuate history. 
 
 Still this same ballad can be used by philologists to de- 
 termine with some degree of accuracy the war it was sup- 
 posed to have been sung for, to herald the glory of its vic- 
 tory, and by that knowledge, tho very abstruse, we can 
 evolve some truth as to the approximate period of the event. 
 
 Many great events that seem and without doubt are 
 
ioo MYTHOLOGY 
 
 partly true, might be called a "pun of history" or a thesis 
 with a historical ring, but mythological meaning, or the 
 other way about, "mutates mutandes." A necessary change 
 has been made by the long winding stairs of time on its way 
 up to us to fit the romantic and sentimental spirit of human 
 society, at different ages, so as to be congruous to many 
 different stages of mental evolution. For example, I will 
 cite the following stories: "King Arthur and the Holy 
 Grail." There surely was a wine cup of that character that 
 Joseph of Arimathea gave to his descandants, who carried 
 it into Britain. This chalice is the one Christ and the 
 Apostles drank from it at the Last Supper. We are com- 
 pelled to believe part of this at least, if we are to believe the 
 Gospels. Then some of the story of "King Arthur and the 
 Holy Grail" must be true. And it would also be possible, 
 altho four centuries and over had elapsed since the time of 
 Christ. It is not difficult to believe such a noble knight as 
 he once lived, altho his name has been perverted beyond 
 recognition. Also, we are satisfied that the knights of that 
 period were a class whose modes of life warranted the 
 credulity of King Arthur, and being surrounded by such 
 individuals as they are purported to have been in the myth- 
 ical record we have of Arthur and his Round Table 
 Knights, they were just such men as would seek such holy 
 adventure. Consequently we need not mentally labor to 
 suppose that the story is endowed with at least a small 
 nucleus of truth. There are many other stories similar to 
 this one. For instance, "Robin Hood," or still more remote 
 and mythical, "The Return of the Heracleids," or "Indra 
 Slaying Vritra" ; "The Forty Thieves," "The Seven Sleepers 
 of Ephesai," or the story of "Gododad and His Brethren"; 
 also, many stories that were framed in the cloisters of the 
 Druids and Christian monks that have been told with much 
 ampollosity. 
 
 Remote classical literature, not having been blessed as 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 101 
 
 ours of today with linotypes and printing presses, they 
 legislated a law, if I may call it such, that compelled selected 
 bards to commit to memory poems, which was their way 
 of perpetuating history. There was but little history written 
 in prose after the art of writing had been acquired for many 
 ages. Epic poems were their choice, evidently, for a his- 
 torical thesis. This forcing to memorize was done as a 
 means to hand down the events of their past and present 
 to future posterity. This society of bards was given the 
 appellation of Homerides. There was also another class 
 of men that bore the same significance that had been ar- 
 ranged under the orders of Pisistratos. These young men 
 became very expert in reciting their poems, and were called 
 upon at public gatherings to recite for the amusement that 
 was derived from it, as well as the knowledge that was pro- 
 mulgated to the masses and different classes of people. 
 This became their profession or avocation in life and they 
 were compensated with mammon in proportion to the talent 
 they had acquired in the act of delivery. Prizes were pre- 
 sented to those who were judged by competent eruditional 
 connoisseurs as being worthy of prizes. Lyres and harps 
 were played by others to accompany them thru their elo- 
 cutionary exercises. 
 
 This had a very desirable effect upon the adolescing 
 young men of Greece, for many literary dilettantes and 
 rhetoritians sprang forth. It was no uncommon occurrence 
 to find a bard who was capable of relating nearly all of the 
 Greek anthology. So< ? as Mr. Fiske says in his valuable book 
 on "Myths and Myth Makers/' if all of the poems that were 
 extant at the time were destroyed they could have gotten 
 together and rewritten them in short order, and it would 
 have been of inestimable value to the world today if such 
 could have been the case in several instances, like that of 
 the burning of the Arabic manuscripts by Cardinal Ximenes 
 in the streets of Granada, or the Don Quixote Library; 
 
102 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 also, the Great Library of Alexandria, Egypt, that was 
 burnt by the order of the Kalifite of Damascus. 
 
 Going back to historical poetry, if I may call it such, for 
 the ancient ballads were nothing else. What a unique way 
 of putting history before the younger generations, for chil- 
 dren are few whose musical ear is not susceptible to the 
 meter and rhythm of verse. If we could recite, or hear the 
 old ballads recited in the vernacular, and we were of that 
 same tongue ourselves, we would observe it was not only 
 historical (when I say historical, I mean historical in a de- 
 gree as I have explained above), but that they were written 
 with keenness of observation and transcendent elevation of 
 thought and sublimity of style. If we could hear the sacred 
 Vedas*, the Mahabharata, Edda, Zend, Avesta, Hebrew 
 Psalms, Norse Sagas, or the German version of the Nibe- 
 lungenlied or lay of the Nibelungs f , we would be compelled 
 to admit or surrender discussion that these early poets were 
 poets indeed. Poets and historians inspired by two muses 
 and poets that in taking all things into consideration excel 
 or surpass the more modern poets. In translating these 
 poems, you transmute them as well and iuterpolate words 
 into them that change their sense. You soften the ebullient 
 and harden the pathos. The translator tears down an old 
 house to rebuild from the debris, but the detritus the car- 
 penter had to leave out of the new structure has weakened 
 its stability and necessarily changed the desired replica of 
 the former's architecture. It is a house, and that is all that 
 can be said of it ; the same is true in the translating of the 
 above poems into English. 
 
 Mythology the torch of the past burning low, 
 
 The brightest light from old sages, 
 That reflect from poetry and song with a glow 
 
 To us through the corridor of ages. 
 
 ♦Peruse Max Muller's "Chips From a German Work Shop." 
 tSee Thomas Carlyle's "Essay on the Nibelungenlied." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 103 
 
 NORSE, GERMAN AND ARYAN MYTHOLOGY 
 
 After scholars have sifted traditional legend and my- 
 thology down to its logical truth and ruminated on its hyper- 
 trophied metaphors, in both Norse, German, Oriental and 
 Greek polytheistic mythology, they are compelled to recog- 
 nize the fact that the primeval mind had substituted wars 
 and different acts of mankind to express the once potent 
 ubiquitous conflict day was having over night, light over 
 darkness, which ends with light as the victor; and when 
 the days are the longest and at night when the sun's ray? 
 are reflected by the moon to the earth which helps decide 
 in favor of the light, light is victorious, the same as truth 
 and virtue, for men of integrity and honor must prevail in 
 the majorty to keep the people civilized. This is done 
 through their love and fear of God, for "Vox populi vox 
 Dei" — the voice of the people is the voice of God ; the ma- 
 jority rules. 
 
 No doubt there was a Troika or Trojan War, tho 
 would that war have been of any consequence any more 
 than thousands of others, had it not been in the days of 
 myth-makers, who used every feature of that war, and every 
 hero who fought, to characterize the powerful actions of the 
 elements and metaphysical bodies, where they have personi- 
 fied physical phenomena by adopting personal names to 
 characterize the elements, and placed in their hands instru- 
 ments indigenous to men in carrying on actual warfare. 
 It is my opinion that all great myths can be reduced to that 
 nucleus. It will be impossible for me to give sufficient space 
 for a full explanation of the Norse, German and Aryan 
 myth, legends, poem^ and ballads ; I will endeavor to give a 
 laconic exegesis instead. 
 
 First will be the Norse folklore and literary myths that 
 have been partly preserved and handed down to us by 
 means of the skaldic poems. These poems were the inspira- 
 
104 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 tion of Norse bards called "Skalds/' or poets. All history 
 in those days, if recorded at all, was recorded in poetic 
 form, only greatly exaggerated. Metaphors were used by 
 them as parables were used by Christ. So, in attempting to 
 interpret them, one is not only subjecting himself to a hard 
 and difficult task, but is also sure to render himself subject 
 to criticism. In the different wars and adventures that have 
 taken place, the heroes were always aided by the personified 
 gods of nature, both solar and earthly deities. Victories 
 were afterwards chanted and sung as national ballads, until 
 the hero who played the title role in the actual event is not 
 only a hero for a day, but totem poles were set up by many 
 as images that the heroes might be worshipped in this way. 
 Allegorical images of monsters were cut into the wood to 
 depict the form of the body, which the "manes" or "shades" 
 of this hero was supposed to have been reincarnated into 
 or transmigrated to. 
 
 The principal poems of the Norse antique literature are 
 the Sagas and Eddas. Eddas is supposed to mean "The 
 Great Mother." Etymology has helped decide this and still 
 there is room for doubt. The Sagas is what might be called 
 a literary record of Norse history far back in the night of 
 ages. In more modern times the poem has been translated 
 from the Islandic runes, which were characters in the form 
 of birds, flowers, heads of beasts, etc., to represent words 
 and sentences; they have been polished and arranged into 
 its present form and are called the "Volsunga Sag." The 
 Eddas is a composition of old traditions and songs. 
 
 The German or Teutonic myth poems called the Nibelun- 
 genlieds* or "Lay of the Nibelungs" are folklore songs that 
 have been fixed, fitted and formed in more modern art to 
 suit the people, altho they were taken in substance from 
 the old Norse Eddas and Sagas. It is important to note 
 in this poem they have not gone to heaven for their heroes, 
 
 ♦See Thomas Carlyle's "Essay on the Nebelungenlied. , 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 105 
 
 and still have invested them with superhuman powers, 
 powers that could not have been obtained on this side, I 
 am sure. 
 
 The Vedas was the Hindoo bible. It was divided, or at 
 least it should be divided, into four parts. The oldest I will 
 compare to the Pentateuch of the Hebrew Scriptures, 
 which is called the Rig- Veda*. Part of this might also be 
 compared to the Psalms of the Old Testament. They are 
 transcendent in character, spiritual and elevating in their 
 moral tendency. This part of the Vedas was probably com- 
 posed as far back as 3500 years before Christ, for it was 
 written in Sanskrit, which necessitates our conjecturing 
 its compositions as being very antique. This was the an- 
 cient religion of the Aryans or Hindoos. The epic poetry of 
 India is not as well known as the Greek epics, still the 
 "Ramayana" and "Mahabharata" take up a period of time 
 much greater than the Troika of Greece ; the conflicts of the 
 "Bharatas" or internal feuds carried on from generation to 
 generation and recorded in a thesis of connected events 
 have been translated by Max Muller into English. The 
 Mahabharata is a thesaurus of mythological stories and 
 events. The Ramayana is a story of Ramas' misfortune in 
 having his wife Sita carried away to the Island of Ceylon 
 by Ravana, who was a (Singalees) Beelzebub, and how 
 Ramaf, who was a Prince, was aided by 10,000 monkeys 
 as Agamemnon was aided by the ants, except the ants 
 grew to be Myrmidons or powerful soldiers, but the mon- 
 keys remained monkeys, tho they bridged the straits be- 
 tween Ceylon and India, which enabled Rama to recover his 
 wife. The epic poetry of India will not fascinate as the 
 Greek epics do, altho they have features that excel all 
 others. The bards of India had a deeper insight into nature, 
 and depended upon that in swelling the caliber of their 
 
 *See Max Muller's "Chips From a German Work Shop." 
 tThese Three Avatars are the Hindoo Trinity. 
 
io6 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 themes and accentuating the esthetic chorus or the canon 
 of the plot. They also seem to feel at heart the poignant 
 sorrow of a broken heart, or disappointed soul, and a ro- 
 mantic, roomy heart for sweet memories to abide. 
 
 The sacred book of the Persians was the "Avesta," com- 
 posed in the Zend language and often called the "Zend 
 Avesta." The part called the "Gathus" are the Hymns 
 of Zoroaster, who probably lived 1600 B. C. Tradition tells 
 us that he ascended a mountain in Persia, where he saw the 
 interior of heaven and theophony took place between him 
 and the deity. The "Peercess" in Bombay worship in a 
 perverted form of Zoroasterism at the present time. They 
 never bury or burn their dead, but lay them out and let the 
 scavenger birds consume their flesh. This religion pre- 
 dominated all other beliefs at one time, not only in Persia 
 but thruout Asia, at the time of Cyrus and Darius, and even 
 until the conquest of Persia by Alexander the Great. This 
 religion, which was uppermost among the Asiatic people, 
 had fundamental principles both unique and beautiful in 
 their simplicity. Light was always in the ascendency, dark- 
 ness must decline and retrograde ; these were their principles 
 of good and evil. Righteousness was the light of "Or- 
 muzd" ; darkness or evil was "Ahriman." Light is vic- 
 torious, as truth and right are always victorious in the end. 
 This we knew, altho it takes truth a long time to show its 
 features. But it is there and as long as it is it belongs to 
 God, and he will reveal it, for he keeps nothing hidden that 
 is good for us to know. 
 
 "Truth crushed to earth will rise again 
 For the eternal years of God are hers. 
 But error, wounded, writhes in pain 
 And dies among her worshippers/' 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 107 
 
 Odin was the Jupiter. of the German gods. He holds sway 
 in Valhalla, the palace where all heroes are taken when they 
 have fallen in war. Asgard was their Teutonic Olympus, 
 where there are many beautiful silver and gold palaces that 
 look like "frozen music." To pass to Asgard, the palaces 
 of the gods, or to pass to Vingolf, the golden palaces of the 
 goddesses, the bridge Bifrost must be traversed. This is 
 the rainbow, whose seven-colored arched cantilevers span 
 the broad expanse of the horizon. Odin is the great King 
 of heaven and earth. He sits on his throne in Valhalla, the 
 largest and most imposing structure there. From here he 
 rules heaven and earth, and from his throne can behold 
 the entire universe. Frigga, his Queen, is always by his 
 side. The Greeks had Atlas holding the heavens on his 
 shoulders, but the Norse and Germans have it that the great 
 ash tree Yggdrasil holds the earth in position. The two 
 ravens, Hugin and Mrunis, were perched upon this deity's 
 shoulders; they signify action and thought, respectively. 
 They are his messengers that fly over the entire universe 
 and return to him every evening to deliver their message, 
 informing him of the conditions of all things. Odin is also 
 pronounced Wooden and our Wednesday received its name 
 from Wodin, as did Tuesday from the Teutonic God, Tyr, 
 or Tue; the German race is called by this name (Teutonic). 
 
 The Valkyries are virgin heroines of the Joan of Arc type. 
 They are always panoplied in their war paraphernalia. 
 Odin is always anxious to procure as many great heroes 
 as he can, that have fallen in battle, to make their abode 
 in Valhalla with him, so after an engagement he sends his 
 Valkyries out over the field to choose those whom they 
 think are the ones who will be able, thru their past merit 
 and valor, to pass in before Odin and be accepted as his 
 imperial guard. When these virgin messengers are on their 
 white palfreys, searching the battlefields for fallen heroes, 
 the bright sheen from their armor can be seen across 
 
io8 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 the surface of the earth. (We have given this the name 
 of the Northern Lights or Aurora Borealis.) There are 
 many Gods in the generations of Norse theogony. Thor is 
 the God of Thunder who has lost his hammer on several 
 occasions; still it usually returns to him sooner or later. 
 He is very artful in hammering out thunderbolts, or he can 
 throw his hammer and melt the frost, the ice and even the 
 rocky cliffs and the giant trees. The hammer then rebounds 
 to his hand. He is the oldest son of Odin, and by the laws 
 of primogeniture is above all the rest of the royal family. 
 Thor wears iron gloves and a leathern apron or belt like 
 a blacksmith. Our Thursday is derived from the name 
 Thor. 
 
 Freyr, the Goddess of Love, who presided over the fruits 
 and flowers and the growing grain, also the rainstorms in 
 the spring, corresponds to Venus or Aphrodite in Greek 
 mythology. She is often surrounded by the fairies of Elf- 
 heim, the nymphs of the smiling spring. Friday got its 
 name from this goddess. Brogi is the God of Poetry, while 
 his Queen, Iduna, is keeper of the fruits of eternal youth, 
 which are used by the heavenly nobility when they feel old 
 age coming on. They go to her and she gives them a bite of 
 this fruit which takes effect at once and rejuvenates them. 
 
 Balder is the God of Sunlight, Youth and Gladness, while 
 his opposite is Hoder or winter, the dark, gloomy clouds of 
 mist and madness. Loki, the mischievous, fraudulent god, 
 who has injured other gods, and who has brought evil into 
 the imperial household, is the son of Farbanti, the old fel- 
 low who corresponds to Charon, the ferrier of the shades. 
 Loki, by his handsome personality and winning ways, 
 forced his way into the company of the gods. His three 
 children, Tenir the wolf, Midgard the serpent, and Hela, 
 or death, finally grew to be such monsters that they could 
 not be exterminated, and have brought all the trouble into 
 the world — care, hunger, sickness, envy, hatred, jealousy 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 109 
 
 and all other troubles known to both gods and men. Balder, 
 who was a son .of Odin, was called Balder the Good, who 
 met his death by twigs of mistletoe being thrown at him 
 by Hoder, who was guided by Loki. Good is often killed 
 by evil, but there is always a reason far beyond* that doubles 
 good. The Almighty has his way of seeking the end, as 
 trails sometimes must make many loops before reaching 
 the tops of the mountains. 
 
 The Norse people in remote ages believed that some day 
 the entire universe would revolt. The revolution, or this 
 Ragnarok, they called the Twilight of the Gods. All of the 
 whole creation, Valhalla and Niflheim, and their inhabi- 
 tants, with Elfheim and Midgard, and all of their posses- 
 sions, would be destroyed by this storm of fire and gravel. 
 They were to have signs of the coming of this calamity, and 
 there were to be three consecutive winters without any 
 summers between them. After this, there was to be dis- 
 quietude, discord and universal war. The mountains were 
 to crumble to dust, the seas were to evaporate, poisonous 
 gases were to asphyxiate the inhabitants and general pan- 
 demonium was to reign. The wolf, Fenris, was to be let 
 loose; the Midgard Serpent was to curl and turn for the 
 moisture that has disappeared; Loki was to have his free- 
 dom and join his element and a battle was to ensue. Surter 
 and his followers were to rush forth in battle array to cross 
 Bifrost that crushes under their feet tho they still go on. 
 
 Hela and the frost monsters are assembled ; the sound of 
 the Giallor Horn starts the conflict; Odin leads the fray. 
 Fenris meets him and slays him; Fenris is then slain by 
 Vithor, the noble son of Odin. Thor comes in with his 
 hammer and kills the Midgard Serpent, but the poisonous 
 breath of the dying reptile kills Thor in return. Loki keeps 
 up the fight until he is finally slain. Both gods and their 
 
 ♦See Matthew Arnold's "Balder Dead," or William Morris* 
 "Poems on Norse Mythology." 
 
no MYTHOLOGY 
 
 enemies have fallen. Surter scatters firebrands over the 
 world and the entire universe is consumed. The gases 
 shade the sun and terra firma runs away in hot lava; the 
 stars blink out their life and fall, and Alfadus, the Al- 
 mighty, stands alone, surveying the charred remains, con- 
 templating a new universe where there shall be no sin, 
 sickness, labor or care and where man and gods will live in 
 common in universal and transcendent gladness. 
 
 The Lay of the Nibelungs tells of Siegfried, who marries 
 a beautiful princess by the name of Krimheld. They pro- 
 ceed to the Netherlands to live, and subsist on moneys 
 Siegfried has taken from a dwarf by stealth. Siegfried had 
 some time back won a wife for Gunther by shifting his 
 strength into Gunther's form. The name of this woman 
 was Brunhild, and she declared that any man to win her 
 hand would have to be superior to her in physical endurance 
 and calisthenics. Siegfried, by wearing the Tarnacappe, a 
 garment that rendered him invisible, won Gunther his 
 bride, she thinking that he was Gunther. After they were 
 married this woman had a tussle with Gunther and hung 
 him on a nail in her bedroom. This she could do at this 
 time, for Gunther now had no aid from Siegfried. Altho 
 later, Siegfried conquered Brunhild and took from her a 
 ring she wore, which was the source of her enormous 
 strength. Siegfried turned around and presented this ring 
 to his wife, Kriemhild, an at the same time informed her 
 how he obtained it. Not long after this there was a tourna- 
 ment at Xantes on the Rhine. Siegfried had won all the 
 honors of the day at this tournament. Kriemhild saw what 
 a wonderful knight he was and remarked to Brunhild that 
 Siegfried should be the king of the realm. Brunhild an- 
 swered her saying that could never be as long as Gunther 
 lived. There they stood, these two queens and ladies who 
 were wives of chivalrous knights, each praising their hus- 
 bands' valor. At vespers they endeavored to force their 
 
POETRY AND PROSE in 
 
 way to the front to seek the most conspicuous place before 
 the altar. Kriemhild spoke first with invidious hatred. She 
 inculpated Brunhild and her husband for wrongs they had 
 instituted against her. As proof, she brought forth the ring 
 and girdle that Brunhild had lost. The knights heard the 
 altercation and rushed to them. Gunther daringly faced 
 the inflexible Siegfried. He said, "Why allow such a thing? 
 Do not let your lady go on with her tirades. Check her. 
 How unbecoming a lady! I will hush mine and you must 
 do the same by yours/' 
 
 This was idle talk, for Brunhild had planned already 
 how she would slay Siegfried. Some of Siegfried's false 
 friends had his wife sew a silk cross on his shirt over the 
 spot on his body that was vulnerable to mortal wounds, for 
 a leaf had fallen on his back while bathing in the dragon's 
 blood. This shielded this part of him from the immortal 
 embrocation, and made that part of him a target for a 
 weapon in the hand of those who wished to destroy him. 
 His wife unsuspectingly sewed the cross on his shirt as 
 directed. Hagen, another knight who had apparently al- 
 ways been a friend to Siegfried, was made aware of the 
 future plans by Brunhild and had persuaded him to help 
 do away with Siegfried. Gunther, Hagen and Siegfried had 
 been out exercising themselves with their swords in fencing 
 until their bodies had attained such enormous caloricity 
 that they proceeded to a nearby brook to cool themselves. 
 Hagen could see his opportunity had arrived whereby he 
 could dispatch Siegfried with ease, for the leaf had fallen 
 on Siegfried's back, and it was here the cross had been 
 sewed by his wife. Hagen pierced the cross with his sword 
 as Siegfried kneeled over the edge of the brook to refresh 
 himself. The blood spattered far and wide on flowers and 
 field. Siegfried was mortally wounded, but clung to life 
 with unrelenting tenacity, tho at last was compelled to yield 
 to the inevitable. Brunhild soon learned the news and 
 
H2 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 glorified in the death of Siegfried. Kreimhild only hung 
 her head and studied how she could avenge the death of 
 Siegfried. Hagen proceeded to procure the purloined gold 
 of the Nibelungs, and after obtaining it, he carried it to 
 Worms and hid it beneath the waters of the Rhine. In a 
 short time Kriemhild married Atilla, the King of the Huns, 
 who bore the appellation "Scourge of God." 
 
 Many years passed and the enemies were of the opinion 
 she had forgotten the unpleasant past, but it proved far 
 different. She prepared a banquet and invited Hagen and 
 Gunther and all of the brothers. She gave some plausible 
 reason for them to bring the horde of gold that Hagen had 
 taken from Siegfried. They evidently thought that she had 
 forgiven them for their crime in the past in killing her Sieg- 
 fried, so they all came to the feast. When they had ar- 
 rived and were enjoying the wine and the stories, and had 
 perhaps indulged too freely, Kriemhild sets fire to the palace 
 in some way that they were all consumed to ashes except 
 Gunther and Hagen, as it happened. Altho their hours even 
 then were to be but few, she ordered some of her knights 
 that have just come forth to decapitate them. She at once 
 draws Siegfried's sword (Bahmung) and slays Hagen. 
 Even now Kriemhild has not recovered the horde, for she 
 never thought to make Hagen divulge the hiding place, for 
 he had hid the gold the second time, and when he passed 
 away the secret passed with him, so the gold is still hidden 
 in some cache or beneath the Rhine. Hildebrand, another 
 knight and relative of Atilla, dispatches Kreimhild by cut- 
 ting off her head. This was their ignoble ending. "Who- 
 soever sheddeth man's blood by man shall his blood be 
 shed." "He who lives by the sword shall die by the sword," 
 and so they did. They caused their own fall. 
 
 In interpreting the significance of the Norse and German 
 god and goddess, Odin and Frigga, we suppose the former 
 to signify the ruler of heaven and its jewelled beauty; also, 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 113 
 
 protector and feeder of the earth and teacher of war and 
 wisdom. Frigga was the earth mother — "Mother Earth." 
 Thor was the God of Thunder, who controlled and con- 
 quered all giants in heaven and earth. He was useful to 
 man as was Prometheus in the Greek myths. His wife, 
 Sif, corresponds with Ceres, goddess of cereals and grain. 
 Balder was the best of them all, and corresponds with 
 Apollo, the Sun God. He would only lower himself when 
 by so doing he could rise still higher ; he would only commit 
 crime to heal evil ; he was the light and life-giver ; he bore 
 radiance, reason and righteousness, glory, goodness and 
 gladness ; he was the shining one — the Lord and King. He 
 would punish the wicked and nurse the weak; trample 
 the oppressor and support the oppressed; seek the just and 
 shun the evil; punish vice and reward virtue; charge the 
 rich and commiserate the poor. He was good, great and 
 grand in the literal sense of the word. 
 
 Hoder was the winter of the year or the night of the day. 
 He was the valley of the mountains and the shadow of dark- 
 ness. He was the opposite to Balder — in a word, he was 
 Hell*. Siegfried has been identified with Hermann, who 
 lived during the advent and who did much to free that part 
 of Germany that is called Brunswick and Hanover. Altho 
 trained by the Romans, he revolted and conquered them 
 who held sway over his country, defeating Verus, the 
 Roman general, in the Valley of Lippe. Sigibert, King of 
 the Austral Franks, possibly might have been Siegfried of 
 the Niebulungs, for he is said to have had many adventures 
 similar to those of Siegfried. 
 
 The mythological interpretation of Siegfried implies the 
 
 ♦See Wagner's Operas: "Rhinegold," "Siegfried," "The Val- 
 kyries" and the "Twilight of the Gods." 
 
 For poems on the Norse and German myths see Magnusson 
 Uigfusson's "Sturlunga Saga," Powell's "Corpus Poeticiun Bor- 
 eale," William Morris' "Sigurd the Volsung," Skallagrim's "Wooing 
 Song," Raudi's "Sword Chant," Longbeard's "Hypatia," etc. 
 
H4 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 bright-eyes, the penetrating, or the reflector to the Good 
 Bader. Gunther was a king of the Huns, a historical per- 
 sonality. Attila was also king of the Huns, who invaded 
 Europe from Asia and overthrew many kingdoms, but was 
 finally overcome in the year 445 A. D., at Challons in 
 France. Many of these characters are historical, and are 
 without doubt borrowed by the poets to utilize in the manu- 
 facturing of their stories that are looked upon as only stories 
 and still have a semblance of historical truth that gives 
 them an obvious shade of historical facts. As I have said 
 in one of the previous chapters, it is difficult to compose a 
 story that is entirely devoid of truth, as I have heard people 
 say it is hard for them to tell the truth, but if they would 
 only stop to think how much more difficult it is to tell a lie 
 and tell one that has no truth in it at all, for even the sim- 
 plest nursery rhymes have much truth in them. As, for 
 instance, "The Song of Sixpence. ,, The "four and twenty 
 blackbirds baked in the pie" are the four and twenty hours 
 of the day; the pie crust is the earth and the sky above. 
 "And when the pie is opened the birds begin to sing." This 
 is simple, for when the day opens in the golden morning the 
 birds begin to herald the sun's golden rays. The king is the 
 sun itself, "counting out his money," or the sun casting 
 forth its blessed rays ; the queen is the moon and the "clear 
 transparent honey" the moonlight. The maid is the rosy- 
 fingered dawn that rises before her master (the sun) and 
 hangs out his clothes across the broad expense of heaven. 
 The bird that snips off her nose is the hour of sunrise, for 
 the right is black like the bird, the bird being taken away 
 by the rising sun ; it in turn snips off the maid's nose or the 
 dawn of morning*. 
 
 You can see by this there is much truth in even the 
 simplest of stories. They, as all mythological stories and 
 poems, do not only entertain but enlighten and please the 
 
 *Quoted from "Myths and Myth Makers," by John Fiske. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 115 
 
 mortal mind. Stories of remote ages and of classical an- 
 tinquity have played their part and have played it well. 
 They have given birth to poems and prose that are the 
 sweetest of our literary food. They have given us subjects 
 for art in both sculpture and paintings that rest the mind 
 and please the soul. They have given us characters for 
 comparison, standards of valor, models for virtue and ex- 
 amples of grace. They have given us themes, words, figures 
 of speech, proverbs and maxims. It has been from the 
 timber of these noble and imposing structures that much of 
 the English language as well as the romance languages are 
 built. All of the decorative art in the structure of erudition 
 is finished and embellished with the grand, gilded and glow- 
 ing bold relief of classic lore and mythology. It has done 
 its part in religion and it has done it well — it has been tim- 
 ber for art and philosophy to promote human happiness. It 
 has played its part and played it in time and in tune, and 
 like anything that is good it will, by natural selection, stay 
 with us and will benefit humanity. The rest we don't curse 
 because it was good in its time and we have something that 
 has taken its place, that we know is better. We will praise 
 polytheism, for it was something really beautiful to hold to 
 when there was nothing better. We will praise Judaism 
 for there was nothing better at the time, and we should have 
 compassion on its passing, for it is a large part of our Bible, 
 and the trunk that sprouted the religion we now worship. 
 We will praise the worshippers of Ammon Raw and the 
 Apis Bull and Osirus, for the Land of the Pharoahs had 
 nothing better. We will praise the Buddhist and the Brah- 
 man, for they think they are right and that there is nothing 
 better. We will praise the Mohammedans, for they know 
 no better. We will praise the ancient poets for the world's 
 mythology, for there is but one thing better, and with this 
 one thing — which is Christianity — crown and bless them all, 
 for they have all contributed toward making a better world 
 and a happier one. 
 
n6 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 THE SIBYL 
 
 The Sibyl that assisted ^Eneas in his exploration of Hades 
 is one of several prophetesses by that name, or at least in 
 English pun they are alike, altho they are sometimes spelt 
 differently. This Sibyl is known as the Cumsean Sibyl. 
 She is the one who brought nine volumes to one of the 
 Tarquins. She offered to sell these books at a given 
 figure, and the King dismissed her by informing her he had 
 no use for the volumes. She turned on her heel and disap- 
 peared. After a few days she returned to the King with 
 six volumes telling him she had burned the other three, still 
 she wanted the same amount of money for the remaining 
 six that she had asked for the nine. The King again re- 
 fused to negotiate for their purchase. Again she left him 
 and burned three more and returned for the third time. 
 This aroused the King's interest and curiosity and he forth- 
 with purchased the remaining three books. On perusing 
 the volumes they were found to be of inestimable value, for 
 they contained the entire future and destiny of Rome. 
 They were ever afterwards kept in a secure place in the 
 Temple of Jupiter, and no one had access to them except 
 duly appointed Sibylean Priests, who were capable of in- 
 terpreting their text and making the prophecies known to 
 the King and his Court. It is very likely the above Sibyl is 
 the one Virgil refers to in his iEnead. She has returned to 
 earth and inhabited her same body over and over again. 
 This we are compelled to say if we stop to think how many 
 centuries must have intervened during periods of her ab- 
 sences and reappearances. 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF AENEAS 
 
 After parting with The Sybil, ^Eneas embarked for the 
 entrance to the River Tiber. He sailed up this river a short 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 117 
 
 distance, where he met Latinus, the King of Latium. He 
 claimed himself to be the direct offspring of Saturn. Lati- 
 nus had reached a good, ripe, old age and it was an oppor- 
 tune time for ^Eneas to have arrived, for Latinus had a 
 beautiful daughter, but no male heirs to inherit the throne. 
 Lavinia, his daughter, had been sought by every Prince in 
 the land. Turnus, who was a powerful chief of the Rutu- 
 lians, was the one who had the best chance in winning her 
 favor, for Latinus, her father, was inclined to this match. 
 Still, Latinus was somewhat undecided about giving his 
 daughter to Turnus, because his father, Fanus, had ap- 
 peared to him in a dream and informed him that his daugh- 
 ter was to marry a prince from a foreign land, and from 
 this match would spring a race of people that would govern 
 the world. 
 
 When JEneas arrived in Italy there was a terrible famine 
 there. It seemed as tho the country was cursed, for there 
 was great suffering among the people. Even ^Eneas suf- 
 fered for subsistence. After ^Eneas had met Latinus, which 
 he did in princely manner, he enthused the latter at once by 
 informing the King who he was, and that he had come from 
 Troy, for the old king was reminded of the dream of his 
 father, Fanus. Latinus received ^Eneas with kindness and 
 hospitably entertained him. Amata, the Queen, however, 
 was not as favorably impressed with iEneas as was the 
 King, which made it embarrassing for Latinus and had a 
 tendency to dephlogisticate all the warmth Latinus had 
 taken on for ^Eneas. Amata dispatched a courier to Turnus 
 to inform him there were strangers in the land, and that 
 they were there for some purpose that would eventuate into 
 trouble for the people in general, also sending word that 
 this newcomer had designs on Lavinia, her daughter, and 
 his (Turnus') intended bride. 
 
 It happened that one Ilus, with many of the company of 
 the Trojans, were hunting in the neighborhood, and in some 
 
n8 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 way had killed a tame stag that was the property of Sylvia. 
 This so aroused her wrath that Sylvia made her chiefs 
 swear vengeance against them. Some of the deponents 
 called the multitude about their banners and a battle en- 
 sued. Many of the King's men sided with iEneas and they 
 drove them back, killing a number. This was ^Eneas' first 
 engagement in battle in his promised land. It had always 
 been a custom when war broke out to open the gates of 
 the Temple of Jupiter, the gates of "J anus " as they were 
 called. This was always done by royal decree, and with 
 solemn pomp and in regal pageantry. On this occasion the 
 King swung the gates ajar. He really disliked to do this, 
 for he had become fond of ^Eneas, but his Queen with the 
 influence of neighboring chiefs had over-persuaded Latinus 
 to open them, which bore the significance of war. As soon 
 as the gates were opened, Turnus was appointed by the 
 rest of the generals and chiefs to take command of the 
 army. Mezentius was one of the number who enlisted. He 
 was the most powerful both in mind and body of all the 
 opposing forces that ^Eneas was to deal with. Mezentius 
 was a cruel, blood-thirsty individual, who had no regard 
 for decency, and who found pleasure in hearing the agonies 
 of others. His own city had vanquished him and driven 
 him away, and here he came to continue his inhuman acts. 
 Lausus, his son, came with him. 
 
 Camilla, who was a beautiful woman except that she was 
 endowed from birth with masculine tendencies, took part in 
 this conflict that was now brewing. She had had an extra- 
 ordinary career for a young woman. It was said that the 
 city where her father had made her home was taken by an 
 adjoining tribe, and her father had fought bravely and well 
 until at last, after his wife was killed, he hurriedly re- 
 moved Camilla from her cradle and ran with her to the 
 country, with the invading army close behind him. He had 
 come to a stream that had swollen, and flooded the valley 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 119 
 
 from bank to bank so that he was compelled to halt. Hav- 
 ing but a moment to decide what he would do, and realizing 
 that surrender would be death to them both, and being un- 
 able to swim encumbered by the child, the idea came to him 
 that he would tie her to one of his arrows and shoot her 
 across the stream. This he did, and then swam across to 
 her where he picked her up unharmed and where now they 
 were away from their pursuers. Here she grew up sur- 
 rounded by a wilderness. She wore the skins of beasts and 
 became as proficient in the use of the bow and the sling 
 as any man in the country. She was attractive in her way 
 but she repulsed all, even the bravest warriors who asked 
 her to wed. She, with Diana's help, remained a virgin all 
 the days of her life. 
 
 ./Eneas had such enemies to contend with ; he knew from 
 divine source that his future path to glory was to be a 
 rough one, so nothing daunted him, for he had been prom- 
 ised a new nation of which he was to be the founder. While 
 he was resting on the banks of the Tiber he heard a voice 
 saying to him, "You must go farther up the River Tiber, 
 and you will meet with friends. The great Evander from 
 Arcadia is there, and he is in trouble with the Rutulians; 
 he will become of aid to you if you go to him." 
 
 This message was from Juno. ^Eneas arose, made sac- 
 rifice to her, deprecated her past grievances toward him 
 and went on to meet Evander. They made ready their 
 vessels and rode up the river for twenty miles, where a 
 small village was standing surrounded by seven hills. 
 iEneas made fast his ships, and this spot in after years was 
 where Rome was built, the glorious and eternal city. 
 Evander and his chiefs were holding their annual celebra- 
 tion to the gods, as ^Eneas and his company came towards 
 them. Pallas, son of Evander, saw the ships' mastheads 
 and ran out to meet them. He was determined to know 
 what they were going to do, and why they were in his 
 
120 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 father's kingdom. Pallas called aloud to yEneas the second 
 time to know what he wanted. ^Eneas answered him by- 
 suspending an olive branch on the end of his spear and at 
 the same time shouting, "We are in search of Evander, and 
 we desire to ally our forces with his to conquer the enemy. 
 We are Trojans and have come in obedience to the com- 
 mands of divine providence." 
 
 At this Pallas placed his sword in his scabbard, and in- 
 vited iEneas and his men to accompany him to his father. 
 ^Eneas and his company went on with Pallas to Evander's 
 camp. They were favorably received and refreshments 
 were set before them at once. After ^Eneas had finished 
 his short repast, Evander took him all thru the forests and 
 hills that finally became the leading city of the world. 
 Evander explained to yEneas that the race that once inhab- 
 ited these parts were a very rough and wild people, who 
 sprang from trees and rocks and inanimate objects; also 
 that nymphs and fauns inhabited the groves and hills about 
 them; that the native men would not cultivate the soil or 
 do any kind of labor, but would omnivorously feed and 
 browse on leaves and wild animals for subsistence. Evan- 
 der explained to ^neas that this was the condition of af- 
 fairs until Saturn, the Olympian God, had been dethroned 
 by his son and found refuge and a place to rule over Italy, 
 where in time the people were so changed for the better 
 that it was called the Golden Age. He continued, "But peo- 
 ple attained wealth, they became proud and corrupt. The 
 masses became dissatisfied, war ensued and the nation 
 retrogressed until destiny brought me from dear old Ar- 
 cadia. I have ruled until, as you see, my days are few. I 
 need your help ; you have come at an opportune time for us 
 both. My state is small but the people are willing, tho we 
 are weak, even when we have combined our forces. So, 
 yEneas, I am aware of affairs in the adjoining state, 
 Eutrusca. Mezentus was their King, and the people drove 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 121 
 
 him from the throne and out of the country for his cruelty. 
 He would pour melted metal in victim's boots and would 
 weld iron bands about two people who he had some slight 
 grievance toward, and would finally purposely kill one so 
 that the living one would have to keep continual company 
 night and day with a decomposing corpse bound to him. 
 This was too much, so the people burned his palace and 
 sent him and all who favored him out of the country. They 
 are now with Turnus, who is as evil as Mezentus, and who 
 has taken compassion on his exile and protects him with 
 his army. The Etruscans are anxious to capture this vil- 
 lain, for the misery he has caused, and they have been told 
 that their leader in this exploit is to come from over the 
 sea, so I am sure they will choose you as their leader in this 
 undertaking. They have offered me the crown if I would 
 agree to lead the army against Turnus to capture Mezentus, 
 but I am too old, and am compelled, thru senility to de- 
 cline their offer, and Pallas, my son, is native-born, which 
 precludes him from further duty in that direction. But you, 
 who are foreign-born and have divine ancestors, as soon as 
 they look upon you they will want you to become their 
 leader. Go to them and I will give you my son for one 
 of your aides, whom I shall be proud to put under your 
 guidance and tutelage that he may be taught the arts of 
 war so he in time may emulate the heroic deeds of his mas- 
 ter and chief." 
 
 How long ago this must have been! Think of Evander 
 showing yEneas the seven-hilled city of Rome even before 
 it bore the name "Alba." There was a forest where now 
 stands the imposing Pantheon, Temple of all the Gods, and 
 the Castle of St. Angelo, the Coliseum and Forum, the 
 Seven Basilicas, including the Vatican and the Basilica of 
 St. Peter with its great dome, that Michaelangelo said he 
 would make as large as the Pantheon, and which promise 
 he fulfilled for the dome of St. Peter's is the exact size of 
 the Pantheon. 
 
122 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Evander and ^Eneas stood on the Tarpeian Rock, no 
 doubt, when there was shrubbery and trees in their wild 
 state. It was from this rock that convicted criminals were 
 cast in later years. Evander marshalled his army, and had 
 a chosen charger for iEneas and one for Pallas, his son. 
 He gave iEneas full command of them and sent him on with 
 his army of picked troops to the camp across the river 
 Etrusca. He was received by the chief of the detached 
 troops that were there with a cordial welcome. Tarchon 
 was the ("au fait") "pretorian prefect/' if I may call him 
 that, for in after years the* head of the home guard bore 
 that name. All of the chiefs who had come with ^Eneas 
 were men of probity, and sobriety seemed to be one of their 
 predominating virtues, for when ./Eneas had gone from 
 them with the army of Evander, he had left his men with 
 orders not to fight in his absence and they did as he had 
 ordered, for they were attacked by the army of Turnus, but 
 they fortified their positions and kept the Rutulians back 
 and no more. This was in part strategy, for had he made a 
 "faux pau" here at this time they would have been crushed, 
 w r here by remaining in their trenches until ^Eneas arrived, 
 proved to be an ultimate blessing to them. The enemy 
 remained up all night, rushing here and there, charging and 
 irritating the Trojan camp, until a late hour of the night. 
 Then they drank and feasted and lost their rest. When 
 morning came they were tired, and in no condition to meet 
 ^Eneas and his select troops. 
 
 ^Eneas had two young heroes among his men that are 
 worthy of special mention ; they were Nisus and Euryalus. 
 These young men were very observing, for they had per- 
 ceived the evening to be one of debauchery and carousing 
 instead of restful bivouac, and wanted to inform ^Eneas of 
 this. "Verbum sat sapienti" — a word is enough for a wise 
 man. They knew that ^Eneas would see an auspicious mo- 
 ment had arrived, for the enemy was so surfeited and over- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 123 
 
 loaded with wine, they had become very careless in their 
 movement. The great difficulty was the carrying of the 
 word to iEneas, for they were compelled to pass thru the 
 enemies' camp to do this. These two heroes were very 
 anxious to make this daring exploit. They employed strong 
 words to each other, each not wanting to let the other go 
 alone or go as company. They thought death would be 
 sweet if they were compelled to die for their chief and for 
 their country. Nisus argued with his co-patriot, reminding 
 him that he was much older, and it would be more reason- 
 able and more fitting to let him go because he had less time 
 to live anyway, and the country would need its good men 
 in time to come, since in a few years he would be unfit to 
 fight, whereas he (Euryalus) would be in his prime. 
 
 Euryalus heard his arguments, but they were all uttered in 
 vain. He would not let Nisus go alone. He prevailed upon 
 him to allow him to go and die with him if such must be 
 the case. He said, before he buckled on his sword, that he 
 had but one regret in case of death, and that was his dear 
 mother who was at this very time in the Trojan camp. As 
 he looked upwards in transcendent supplication he said: 
 "To thee, O Gods, who know all, I am doing this for you 
 and for men. If I am lost, see that my mother is taken care 
 of in her declining years. She has followed me here at my 
 request. She left the Trojan soil to be near me, and now 
 I may have to leave her. O Jupiter, bless her and look after 
 her. I will only fight more bravely when I think of her. 
 The Gods be with her in my absence. " 
 
 While he was uttering these suppliant words, his friends 
 were moved to tears. They grasped him by the hand and 
 promised him they would see that his mother was taken 
 care of in the event of his death. The two then started off 
 to attempt to pass the enemy's camp, to carry the message 
 to ^Eneas. On arriving at the enemy's camp they found 
 them asleep. They drew their swords and slashed right 
 
124 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 and left as they went on their way. They slew many of 
 the sleeping soldiers at the outpost where they were com- 
 pelled to pass. In this way they made their way thru the 
 enemy's first line of battle. When they had gotten thru 
 they decried in the distance a company of soldiers under the 
 command of Volacens. He called for them to halt, and de- 
 sired to know of them where they were going and who they 
 were. They made no reply to his query and dashed into a 
 forest near by. Volacens tried to circumvent them by run- 
 ning cavalry about the forest. Nisus eluded them, but 
 Euryalus became separated, in some way, and when Nisus 
 had got to a quarter of safety he missed his companion and 
 at once started back to look for him. He went straightway 
 to the woods he had just left, approaching them in a furtive 
 manner. Near to the center of the forest he could hear 
 voices. He went on a little nearer in the direction of the 
 voices, and thru the underbrush he saw his friend Euryalus 
 surrounded by an army of soldiers. He thought "What can 
 I do? I must not leave him, that would be cowardly. I had 
 better die than to commit a cowardly act. No, I will go to 
 him at all hazards." At this he crept up and threw his 
 javelin at one of the leaders and killed him where he stood. 
 Before they could gather themselves together he had thrown 
 another and another, each one killing one of the enemy. 
 Volacens could not see who was really throwing the death- 
 dealing javelins, and to appease his temper he drew his 
 sword and rushed up to Euryalus and raised it to cut him 
 down, just as Nisus shouted: "No, not he, not he! I was 
 the one who threw the javelins ! I was the one ! Strike me ! 
 Kill me, if you can!" He spoke too late, for the sword 
 stroke killed Euryalus there and then. Nisus set his teeth 
 and rushed upon Volacens and slew him in an instant, but 
 by that time another soldier crept up behind Nisus and 
 struck a blow that ended this brave youth's career. They 
 never got thru to carry the message to ^Eneas, tho he got 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 125 
 
 word of their fatal ending and their brave attempt to get 
 to him. iEneas eulogized and uttered encomiums upon 
 them for long after their deaths. 
 
 iEneas charged the enemy that was between him and his 
 belligerent camp and scattered them, thus joining the two 
 armies. In a short time they charged the army of Turnus. 
 Mezentus raved like a maddened bull; he slew right and 
 left, killing one after the other as he forced his way into the 
 very heart of Eneas' army. He was making for iEneas, for 
 he knew he was the main branch the web hung upon, and 
 if he killed him it would change the aspect and the destiny 
 of their country. By stupendous effort he finally arrived in 
 front of the leader, ^neas did not turn and flee, for he had 
 met such men as Achilles in days past, and he surely would 
 not run now. The soldiers of both armies stood back to 
 watch the outcome of the issue. Mezentus threw his spear 
 first which struck ^Eneas' armor and glanced off and struck 
 Antores, a Greek soldier that had come to Italy at the re- 
 quest of Evander. While he breathed his last he looked up 
 at the blue sky and said: "My last thoughts are of you, 
 sweet Argos." 
 
 ^neas threw his spear next and it took effect in the thigh. 
 Mezentus' supporters, seeing their chief was in a perilous 
 situation, surrounded him and carried him back of the fight- 
 ing line. Lausus, who was the son of Mezentus, had come 
 forward to rescue his father but was killed by the second 
 spear that was intended for Mezentus. ^Eneas was too good 
 at heart and too noble a man to have been a soldier, for he 
 did not want to shed blood or take life. When he had slain 
 this youth he kneeled over him and expressed his grievance 
 for having killed him. He swore before heaven and the 
 corpse that laid at his feet he would see he was given over 
 to his friends and that his sword and shield would be in- 
 terred with him. As soon as Mezentus was made aware of 
 his son's fate he mounted his charger and dashed forward 
 
126 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 and into the enemy. He engaged yEneas as before, only 
 with more determination and zealous frenzy. He drove his 
 horse around and around him, throwing spears as he went, 
 like an American Indian. ^Eneas held his shield so that he 
 avoided each and every one he threw. ^Eneas did not throw 
 his until Mezentus had thrown all he had. He then turned, 
 and instead of casting his spear at Mezentus, he cast it at 
 his horse. It took effect in a vital spot and the horse fell 
 dead under its rider. Mezentus could see his hour had 
 come. He did not ask for mercy. He only asked ^Eneas if 
 he would see that his body was not desecrated by his 
 enemies, the Etruscans, who had deposed him months be- 
 fore, and that he might be buried decently with his son who 
 had fallen this same day. ^Eneas agreed to do this, and at 
 once struck the fatal blow that was to end the life of one 
 who could not or should not ask mercy, for he never had 
 shown mercy for others — others who were suffering at his 
 malignant hands, who were not deserving of punishment, 
 tho he delighted in the agonizing miseries of victims he 
 would torture. "Blessed are the merciful for they shall re- 
 ceive mercy" — one of the sweetest and tenderest of the 
 seven Beautitudes of Christ, yet one that is least lived up to 
 even by Christians. 
 
 yEneas withdrew back of the battle line and was without 
 doubt cheering himself on his victory over this demon, 
 Mezentus, when he was informed that Pallas, the son of 
 Evander, had fallen and had been borne off the battle-field 
 dead. This proved to be a hard blow to .Eneas, for he had 
 become very fond of him. By inquiry he found Turnus had 
 been the one who had slain his friend, and this so enraged 
 him he sent word to Turnus he would meet him in single 
 combat to decide the issue which would end hostilities, 
 whichever way it happened to terminate — whether it would 
 be himself that was to fall or Turnus. The latter did not 
 have the courage to meet him and made excuses to avoid 
 the duel. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 127 
 
 Camilla had not come forward as yet to demonstrate the 
 wonderful deeds of valor that were in her, but she was 
 boiling over with enthusiasm and could hardly content her- 
 self back of the lines waiting for her time to face the old 
 veteran and Trojan hero. After a short reprieve or truce, 
 the battle recommenced with double fury. Camilla rushed 
 forward with implacable zeal and indecorous grace, unbe- 
 coming the sex, but she had been brought up in this environ- 
 ment and what could be expected? She slew every one that 
 stepped before her; her wake was a path of reclining 
 corpses. She finally reached her nemesis. This was the 
 sword of Aruns, who slew her while she was engaged with 
 another. When she fell to the earth she knew she was 
 mortally wounded. Her maids in attendance picked her up, 
 and the nymphs, it is said, flocked about her at the com- 
 mand of Diana. She cursed Aruns and supplicated Diana 
 to intercede for her now that she was powerless, and ran- 
 som her life as a forfeit for her death at his hands. Diana 
 must have fulfilled her supplication, knowing she was the 
 virgin paraclete that all such divine appeals are made to. 
 She seldom, if ever, faltered, nor did she now, for she sent a 
 nymph to the field who shot an arrow that no one present 
 could see who discharged it, tho Aruns fell dead pierced by 
 the unknown arrow. 
 
 After many battles between the Rutuleans and ^Eneas, 
 the final battle that was to decide whether there was to be 
 a nucleus of a city started that would grow into a Rome, 
 was yet to be fought. The time had arrived ! Would suc- 
 cess be with ^Eneas or with Turnus? ("Vox,populi vox 
 Dei") — "The voice of the people is the voice of God." So it 
 proved to be. God is with the majority. God is with the 
 successful or they would not be successful, tho one must 
 not be discouraged if they are defeated, for if God has not 
 favored you is not a sign He has forsaken you. Sometimes 
 He uses this way of awakening your inner self to ("Nosce 
 
128 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 teipsum") "Know thyself" as you really are that you may 
 reflect upon your weakness. 
 
 tineas knew he was to persevere, and that at the end 
 of his efforts he would be crowned with success, for the 
 promise had been made that the future destiny of a great 
 city and empire, that would reach from pole to pole and 
 from earth to heaven, rested in his sword. God knew that 
 this city was to be the "City of God," the name that Saint 
 Augustine gave it, and the city that was destined by divine 
 providence to become the New Jerusalem, "Nulli secundus," 
 "second to none." ^Eneas went into this final conflict with 
 determination. He had a divine mother who had promised 
 him what Thetes had promised and given to her son, 
 Achilles, and that was a suit of armor that no weapon of 
 that day or age that had been fabricated by the hands of 
 man could penetrate. She went to Vulcan, the heavenly 
 blacksmith, and had him pattern and make one. This she 
 gave to ^neas for this coming battle. The day arrived for 
 the struggle. Turnus came forward in battle array. His 
 soldiers still clung to him, but the gods and goddesses de- 
 serted him. Even Diana, who had caused the death of 
 Arnus, had forsaken him. Turnus advanced, regardless of 
 the gods not aiding him. He threw his spear at ^Eneas, 
 but it only glanced from his invincible and invulnerable 
 shield. ^Eneas threw his spear with such impetuosity it 
 struck Turnus' shield and passed on thru and into his thigh. 
 The loss of blood must have weakened him mentally as 
 well as physically, for he threw down his sword and looked 
 up to ^Eneas and begged for mercy. For a moment it was 
 hard for iEneas to decide whether to slay him or not, but 
 when he thought of Pallas, his dear friend, and his father 
 Evander, he could not restrain himself. He then pierced 
 him thru and thru with his spear, which took away about 
 the last living obstacle between him and the founding of 
 the small town that was to grow into a Rome. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 129 
 
 Not long after this final struggle iEneas married Lavinia, 
 the daughter of Latimus. He honored her by naming the 
 town he founded after her — Lavinium — and with the help 
 of his son, Lulus, afterwards founded another city that 
 they named Alba Longa, that finally, after many wars, 
 served as the hilly cradle for Romulus and Remus, who 
 were motherless and fatherless, and had been nursed by a 
 she-wolf and still under such inauspicious circumstances 
 grew to be great leaders among men and were the real 
 founders of Rome. 
 
 ROLAND, KING ARTHUR AND THE HOLY 
 
 GRAIL 
 
 Roland, or Orlando as he is styled in Italian literature, is 
 the great hero in the French epic, "Chansons de geste." 
 Roland was the nephew of Charlemagne, and went with him 
 at the head of an army of knights and Paladins into 
 Spain, to drive back the Moors. When Roland had reached 
 the Pyrenees, through the treason of Ganelon, one of his 
 knights', they were attacked by overwhelming numbers and 
 completely exterminated. Roland could have saved all by 
 blowing his horn and summoning Charlemagne, who was 
 within hearing distance, but through the counsel of Oliver, 
 his friend, they met the Moors and fought a losing engage- 
 ment ; but won fame that has since been heralded in poetry 
 and song, for not only have the Romance countries written 
 epics of him, but the Teutonic nations as well. Goethe and 
 Schiller of the Germans, Pulci, Boiordo, Ariosto, Berni and 
 Bornier of the Italians, have supplied epics renowned. 
 Pulci's "Morgante Maggiore" and Boiordo's "Orlando 
 Inamorato'' and Ariosto's "Orlando Furioso," meaning Or- 
 lando in love and Orlando mad, respectively, are the great 
 poets who have left epics about this hero. 
 
130 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 The descendants of Joseph of Arimathea, after his death 
 had sent the Holy Grail to Glastonbury, England, where it 
 was to be guarded by some of Joseph's progeny. For many 
 years the people of Britain could view the Holy Grail at 
 will, but after they had begun to be corrupt and sinful, the 
 Holy Grail disappeared. Galahad was brought in one day 
 before King Arthur and the Round Table to be knighted. 
 Merlin, or the spirit of Joseph, had led him before King 
 Arthur and announced he was the holy knight for the "Siege 
 Perilous." This seat was the one seat about the Round 
 Table of which it was prophesied that when the right one 
 occupied it, gold letters were to appear before him on the 
 Round Table. As soon as Galahad sat down, the letters 
 appeared ; also the Holy Grail, heavily veiled, but disap- 
 peared as suddenly as it appeared. King Arthur was at 
 once convinced the knight was surely at hand that was to 
 find the Holy Grail, this holiest of dishes that Christ and 
 the apostles drank from in the Upper Chamber at the Last 
 Supper. 
 
 To prove further that Galahad was the one to occupy 
 the Siege Perilous at the Round Table, there was a stone 
 with a sword as powerful as Excalibur, King Arthur's 
 sword that was given him by the water sprite, or "Lady 
 of the Lake," sticking into this stone. All of Arthur's 
 knights tried to withdraw the sword, without success, until 
 Galahad reached down and withdrew the sword with ap- 
 parent ease. This convinced Arthur that the knight had 
 been found that was to occupy the favorite seat and to 
 find the Holy Grail. Galahad started alone on his quest 
 for the godly dish. When he had got far into the country, 
 he came upon an abbey where hung a white shield bearing 
 a Red Cross, which he learned had belonged to a king of 
 Sarras, who had been converted to Christianity by Joseph's 
 son. The red cross was drawn with blood and it was to 
 remain undimmed for Sir Galahad, the new Accolade. This 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 131 
 
 he took with him, which made him the "Red Cross Knight." 
 He rode away and soon came to the castle of the Holy- 
 Grail. But for lack of altruism, and because he could not 
 entirely forget himself for others, he was unable to see the 
 grail. He rode away and returned several times without 
 success. Finally he was led away to the sea, where King 
 Solomon's ship awaited him and bore him off to Sarras, the 
 "spiritual place" to which the Grail had long since been 
 spirited. After many days they arrived at Sarras, where 
 he found the object of his search. As soon as Galahad ar- 
 rived, the King of Sarras died and Galahad was made King. 
 After ruling for a while, Galahad wished for his body to 
 die that he might find eternal life of the soul. His wish was 
 granted, and as soon as life left his holy body, the Holy 
 Grail left earth with his soul and went upward into heaven, 
 where it has since remained. 
 
 JUPITER AND JUNO 
 
 Jupiter, and his Queen, Juno, who is called Queen of 
 Heaven, were the mightiest of the reigning deities. Mi- 
 nerva, who is also called Pallas (Athena), and whom the 
 Greeks held as their patron goddess, comes next in order. 
 
 Jupiter became the father of a large family of gods and 
 goddesses: Mars, the God of War was his most imposing 
 son when caparisoned in war panoply; Heba and Vulcan 
 were his children by Juno; Latona bore him Phoebus 
 (Apollo), the Sun God, who is significant of universal har- 
 mony; Diana, also named Artemis, the most chaste of all 
 the goddesses, was the virgin sister of Apollo; Aphrodite 
 or Venus, his daughter by Dione, is the Goddess of Love. 
 Some authors claim her to have been born from the sea- 
 foam, on the shore of Cythera (Venus Uranous). Cythera 
 is the name that is often given by ancient poets, for near 
 
132 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 the Island of Cythera is where she arose from the sea. 
 Vesta, who was the goddess of the family hearth, represents 
 virtue and purity. 
 
 Juno, the Queen of Heaven, signifies the beauties of 
 heaven. She is the protector of women, comparable with 
 the Virgin Mary, Mother of Christ. She is the prototype of 
 matrimony. She possesses both purity and dignity, still is 
 of a jealous nature, and has reproached Jupiter for many 
 of his morganic marriages, and has instigated the downfall 
 of many mortal women, who became the mistresses of her 
 husband. She was supposed to have made her abode in the 
 far west, where for a long time she was under the guar- 
 dianship of Oceanus, the Sea God. She was reared in the 
 Garden of the Hesperides, and nourished with celestial food, 
 called ambrosia and nectar. In her honor, the tree of life 
 sprang up with golden fruit. Herthrone was of gold; her 
 sandals were also gold; her tresses were golden strands. 
 She was called the ox-eyed queen. What a pageant to be- 
 hold — what a glorious scene when she was seated in her 
 golden chariot, which slowly made its way, with Hebe and 
 the Hours as postilions. The peacock was her favorite 
 fowl. The Romans held annually in her honor a festival 
 called the Matronalia. Women were her votives, for she 
 was the Goddess of Parturition, and was sacred to the ac- 
 couchement periodl 
 
 Athena, Juno and Diana were similar in purity and chas- 
 tity. Daphne, the Goddess of Dawn, flew from Apollo to 
 escape his embraces, and was finally compelled to seek 
 refuge, turning into a laurel tree. Athena could be asso- 
 ciated with Daphne in this way, for she (Athena) is also 
 called the Goddess of Dawn. She has other attributes cred- 
 ited to her, one being wisdom, for dawn brings with it awak- 
 ening and the light is synonymous to knowledge. She al- 
 ways bears with her the ^Egis and the spear. The ^Egis is 
 a shield. The Gorgon head of Medusa, decapitated by Per- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 133 
 
 seus, is embossed upon this shield. This is emblematic of 
 thunder storms, the JEgis being the Palladium that was sup- 
 posed to have the power to turn all beholders to stone as 
 the Gorgon had done in life. Minerva is another name 
 given to Athena. She is the Goddess of War, correspond- 
 ing with Mars, the great God of War. She was a lover of 
 music and art, had a penchant for weaving, spinning and 
 gardening, and remained a virgin thruout all time, it Is 
 said that she created the olive tree, sacred to the pagan wor- 
 ship. The old and serpent were also sacred to her. The 
 statue of Athena in the Parthenon, on the Acropolis in the 
 city of Athens, is perhaps one of the most exquisite works 
 of art the human hand has ever chiseled. It was the "chef 
 d' ceuvre" of Phidias, the great sculptor in the days of 
 Pericles of Athens. 
 
 One is almost compelled to think of Diana in the same 
 breath with Athena, for she was perhaps the most chaste of 
 all the goddesses. Still she has been associated with Selene, 
 the Moon Goddess, who? watched over and became so fond 
 of Endymion. And yet there was nothing reprehensible in 
 this, for Selene only watched over his flocks while he 
 (Endymion) was sleeping. Diana or Artemis was born in 
 the island of Delos. This island was a floating island until 
 Jupiter made it fast by anchoring it by means of powerful 
 adamantine chains. Besides her ideal virtue, she had queenly 
 bearing and overwhelming charm and magnetism. Many 
 were her suitors, but she could not be won by either god 
 or man. She remained the Virgin Goddess, which was to 
 her liking and self-choosing. Diana, the Moon Goddess 
 and Hunting Goddess, was fond of the chase. Her tresses 
 are the refractory moonbeams. She pierces women with 
 these refulgent yet soul-disturbing spears of moonlight. 
 Her nymphs were sworn to a life of celibacy, this being 
 her unimpeachable prerogative. She would punish those 
 who violated her behests in this direction. On her hunting 
 
i 3 4 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 tours she was accompanied by many of her beautiful 
 nymphs. She was fond of wild beasts and domestic ani- 
 mals, and meandered thru valleys, hills, rivers and lakes, 
 firing her arrows as she went. Meadows, brooks and 
 springs were her favorite resting places for her nocturnal 
 bivouac. She was fond of music and dancing, and, of course, 
 loved the Muses, Terpsichore, Clio and Calliope in particu- 
 lar. She was quick to resent injury and quick to console 
 grief, ready to condole virtue but slow to condone vice; 
 beautiful beyond description, yet modest to a fault. She 
 was apt, alert and agile, crafty, cunning and calm, guardian 
 of children and protectress of wild beasts. Diana was a 
 paramount goddess in Asia Minor, for the great temple of 
 Diana at Ephesus, spoken of by St. Paul in the New Testa- 
 ment, was built in her honor. 
 
 VENUS 
 
 Venus, Goddess of Love and Beauty, has been named 
 Aphrodite, meaning "born from the foam" — on the coast 
 of Cythera, but was blown to the Island of Cypress, where 
 she was worshipped as a goddess. Wherever she chanced 
 to look or wherever she walked the flowers and grain burst 
 into flower. Robes were woven for her by the Graces, who 
 also decorated her with garlands of thyme, violet, narcissus, 
 crocus, hyacinth, the rose and the lily. She is goddess of 
 flower gardens and the linden forests. The meads, hills, 
 copes, crofts, garths and meadows are hers. The clear and 
 refreshing zephyrs are hers. She entrances by her physical 
 charms. No one can resist her beauty. No one can resist 
 her cestus or girdle. It stimulates in all beholders a desire 
 to love and embrace her. She has always been a feminine 
 model of physical perfection, both in face and form. Her 
 sweet, piquant smiles have won the hearts of all men, both 
 wealthy and wise, the brave and the meek. She has been 
 
Venus De Milo 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 135 
 
 the cause, by her seductive nature, of both pleasing mo- 
 ments and broken hearts. She has stimulated and inspired 
 love in both gods and men, such as Adonis, 43neas, Paris, 
 Helen, Pygmalion, Psyche and Ariadne. She has been 
 worshipped in every land and on the seven seas. The swan 
 of the water and the dove of the air were loved by her. 
 She is usually accompanied by her dwarf son, Cupid, "the 
 God of the Silver Bow." The statues of Venus are numer- 
 ous, but the one that represents her as the Greeks imagined 
 she must be worthy of according to her heralded beauty, 
 and without doubt the most beautiful and perfect statue of 
 woman extant, is the Venus de Milo, now in the Louvre 
 Museum of Paris. The "Venus de Medici" is second in 
 beauty and the "Venus" by Praxiteles third. There is 
 nothing in the world that could symbolize the beauty of 
 nature ("Nature Smiling") better than the figure of a 
 beautiful, smiling woman, as Venus is supposed to have 
 been. 
 
 It is difficult to know how far back we are to go to find 
 when Aphrodite was first worshipped as a goddess of the 
 race of people who first characterized a feminine form to 
 signify the sweetness of love and beauty in nature. It is 
 conjectured she first appeared in the annals of mythology 
 in Chaldea amid the Semitic race. She was their satellite 
 of love. She was styled Astarte by the Phoenecians, and 
 was universally accepted as the golden-crowned, vivacious, 
 fastidious, fascinating, seductive, flower-faced, ox-eyed God- 
 dess of Love. Shakespeare, in his "Tempest," Chaucer in 
 his "Knight's Tale," Edmund Spencer in his "Prothala- 
 moin," Milton in his "L'Allegro," Pope in his "Rape of the 
 Lock," and again Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis," 
 Swinburn's "Atalanta in Calydon," or Mochus' "Theo- 
 cratis," and Bion's "Idyls" are all poems that are truly 
 worthy of the reader's perusal, if the poetical version of 
 this queenly goddess appeals to the reader. 
 
136 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Many great paintings have been done of her that have 
 become famous. Two of them are "The Sleeping Venus," 
 by Titian, and Tintoritto's "Cupid, Venus and Vulcan"; 
 the more modern sculptured Venus that has become famous 
 is by Thorwaldsen, called "Venus with the Apple"; also 
 Cellini's "Venus" is beautiful beyond words to express. 
 
 In modern times Venus is perhaps spoken of more than 
 any of the mythological characters. The reason for this is 
 perhaps because it is natural for us to love the beautiful in 
 women. Nothing could have been selected that would 
 have taken its place — not even a flower — for man can look 
 upon Venus de Milo's statue and almost feel the warmth 
 and life in her body, for there are three different and dis- 
 tinct expressions from profile and front view which express 
 gladness, mirth and love. One thinks, "O ! but if she were 
 only animate flesh could one help love her?" Her arms 
 were broken off when the statue was found in the Island 
 of Melos. It is supposed she was either holding a bright 
 shield or mirror up before her, and blushing at her own 
 loveliness, or was disrobing for her bath, and was in the 
 act of dropping her cestus or skirt when she heard someone 
 approaching and, with preternatural quickness, endeavored 
 to replace her garment and shield her handsome body. It 
 has always been a subject of much discussion as to the sup- 
 port of the girdle or diaphanous cestus she wore. There 
 is nothing perceptible as far as the eye can see to support 
 the diaphanous "love-lurking gown," as the poets love to 
 call it. It is also a psychological fact that a beautiful cre- 
 ation in the form of a full dress gown for a perfect female 
 lends an overwhelming charm and enchantment for the 
 opposite sex if the neck and shoulders of the gown were cut 
 decollette with short sleeves, thus exposing the graceful 
 curves of the "form divine." By exposing just enough of 
 that which the mind already knows is beautiful, and its 
 whole outline is in the mind's eye, though in reality one 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 137 
 
 sees but a part, it stimulates a wanting desire, a feeling 
 of suspended pleasure or gladness, a one-half divulged 
 secret or a partly suppressed dream that all men love. We 
 all care to mentally explore the unseen. Still, if the female 
 form is gowned in the other extreme, and there is too much 
 of the "form divine" exposed, it has the opposite tendency. 
 It at once becomes vulgar to our senses and arouses the las- 
 civious instinct in us that is below reason's control. 
 
 Long may you live, sweet Venus, though heart of stone, 
 and with it all I love you as my own. 
 
 MERCURY OR HERMES 
 
 "Mercury or Hermes," born in Arcadia, was the son of 
 Jupiter by Maia. He is the courier of the winds, or the 
 hastener ; he hastened errands for Zeus. There were wings 
 on his ankles, wings on his "petasus" or hat. His wand was 
 the Caduceus (meaning "to fall off with ease"), twined with 
 two snakes with wings at the top. They were supposed 
 to possess mystic powers of sleep and dreams. He was a 
 lover of music. He invented the lyre, the syrinx and the 
 flute. His voice is powerful and sweet. He was endowed 
 with eloquence in gesture, agility and strength. He was 
 cunning and tergiversating. His statue is usually set on the 
 highest apex of a building, in his running or fleeting pos- 
 ture, bearing his Caduceus with right arm raised upward 
 and index finger pointing to the blue dome of heaven. He 
 has been called the patron of chance or gambling, as well 
 as the patron of lawful commerce and worthy industry 
 both on land and at sea. He conducts the spirits or souls 
 of the departed down the subterranean lost stream of ocean 
 to Pluto's Hades, near the abode of Proserpine, in the dank, 
 dark shades of the dead on the planes or mead of Asphodel. 
 
138 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 LESSER DIVINITIES 
 
 There are many lesser divinities, such as Hebe, the 
 Goddess of Youth, and celestial cup-bearer to the deities, 
 and Mnemosyne (or Memory), who was the mother of the 
 Muses, who were prompters of memory for earthly song, 
 dancing, music and poetry, rhetoric, etc. There was sup- 
 posed to be nine of them, who had their seat on Mount 
 Hellicon in Greece. Sappho has been added as the tenth 
 Muse. The nine are : Clio of history, Euterpe of lyric 
 poetry, Calliope of epic poetry, Melpomene of tragedy, 
 Erato of love sonnets, Polyhymnia of sacred poetry or 
 hymns, Urania of astronomy, Thalea of comedy, Terpsi- 
 chore of dancing. They were supposed to inspire the mem- 
 ory of the ancient bards, dramatists, scientists, historians 
 and choral dancers, such as Sophocles, Euripides, Aris- 
 totle; Pindar, Anacreon, Bion and all such writers as 
 Xenophon, in his history of the return of the ten thousand, 
 or his Anabasis, and Apollonius of Rhodes; Apollodorus, 
 Herodatus, and again the old mythic poets, Orpheus and 
 Thamyrus, who composed the hymn on the Eleusinian 
 mysteries; besides Linus, Marayas, Amphion, Alcus, Sap- 
 pho and Arion. The latter, who wrote the dithyramb or 
 hymn to the God of Wine, produced poetry that when sung 
 charmed the monsters of the deep. Simonicles was nearly 
 his equal. Sophocles and Eschylus, the great tragic poets 
 and dramatists, give us much of the obscure narrative of 
 Odephus, the king of Thebes. The Seven against Thebes, 
 the sufferings of Prometheus; the stories of Alcestes and 
 the acts of Medea. For comedies Aristophocles takes the 
 lead for grandeur and style. Jason, in quest of the Golden 
 Fleece, is beautifully told by Appolonius, which should be 
 read. The Idylls of Theocritus, of Sicily, should be read in 
 conjunction with Bion and Mochus, translated by Andrew 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 139 
 
 Lang; also the Roman poet Ovid, his "Metamorphosis" 
 "Fasti" and "Heroides," translated by the same author. 
 
 The great Roman poets who were surely inspired by 
 these same Muses were several in number. Virgil is 
 without doubt the greatest of all the Roman poets. He 
 wrote the immortal "iEneid," which is translated by Dryden 
 into English. It narrates the wanderings and early Roman 
 wars of iEneas after he left the Trojan War to found a 
 new state that became Rome. Horace, who is perhaps the 
 greatest of the Roman lyric poets, comes next to Virgil, 
 with Catullous, Tibullus and Propertius following closely 
 behind. Some of the works of Propertius are exaggerated, 
 but they are instructive and beautiful. Seneca, the great 
 "rustic" moralist, as Byron styles him, was the Emperor 
 Nero's teacher. He was the greatest of his day. The 
 African Apuleius, who wrote "The Golden Ass," was also 
 one of the great antique romancers. There are still many 
 more, such as Pucian, Paussanus, the traveler Pliny Sec- 
 ondus; the naturalist Strabo, the geographer Livy, the his- 
 torian, and Lucan, who wrote Pharsallia; also the Sicilian 
 poet, Empedocles, who desired to be esteemed an immortal 
 god, and to dispose of his mortal remains to deceive the 
 people, threw himself into the burning crater of Mount 
 Etna. Horace gives his opinion of this act as tho a poet 
 may die as he pleased. "He who saves a man against his 
 will does the same with him who kills him against his will." 
 They are equally innocent. 
 
 Apollo, or Phoebus, son of Jupiter and Latona, is the great 
 sun god. Phoebus signifies the sunlight, while the name 
 Apollo means the destructive heat of the sun's rays. 
 Apollo spent one year on earth in the northern land of the 
 Hyperboreans, when for half of the year there was con- 
 tinual spring and lucid breezes that brought Proserpine 
 from Pluto's prison and the mead of Asphodel, to crown the 
 
140 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 earth with leaf, blade and ivy, that served as provender and 
 pasture for the sheep herds that Apollo himself was the 
 herdsman or shepherd to. In waiting in suspense at the 
 ancient city of Delphi for Apollo, they set the tripod or 
 three-legged stool where the priests of Apollo sang peans 
 and danced for the coming of this god. After their hymns 
 of praise, the swan-drawn chariot, with Apollo, came usher- 
 ing in the spring and golden harvest. The earth was a 
 symphony, a phantasmagoria of grasshoppers, frogs, crick- 
 ets, songs of nightingales, the bleating of lambs, bellowing 
 of cows and the rejoicing of the world. All animal life 
 could feed afresh and sip the crystal waters of Castalia. 
 All was sweet and beautiful until the creeping Python ap- 
 peared from the caves of Mount Parnassus to harm the 
 people, tho Apollo interceded and slew this monster with 
 his silver bow, and from this time, in commemoration of 
 this act, the python games were instituted. These great 
 games of sport brought athletes from far and near. The 
 victor was crowned with beech leaves and was styled by 
 the multitude a hero. 
 
 Apollo was also a lover of music and poetry. On the foot- 
 hills of Parnassus is located the city of Delphi, where from 
 a crevice of the rocks issues a poisonous gas that stupefies 
 and asphyxiates animal life. Great significance was at- 
 tached to this, and it was called the Oracle of Delphi that 
 made known the future to mortal man. Apollo was the 
 Charmion of ancient anthropomorphism ; he was a pure 
 god, free from libidinous and salacious propensities. He 
 disliked vaunting and pride, for he pierced to death with his 
 shafts of light the children of Niobe, and she, as well, was 
 turned to stone for priding herself as being more prolific 
 than the Queen of Heaven. Apollo was greatly enamored 
 of Daphne, the Goddess of the Morning Dawn, whom he is 
 always chasing as the sun chases the shade around the 
 globe, so did he chase Daphne until, to avoid his embrace 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 141 
 
 and unwelcome overtures, she was metamorphosed into a 
 laurel tree, that grows in the shade, and which Apollo be- 
 came so fond of, for if he could not have her in the original 
 he would still love her in the laurel, and he wore it as his 
 crown and on his bow. 
 
 ADONIS 
 
 Venus had carelessly wounded herself with her son 
 Cupid's arrow, which caused a wound that the septic intoxi- 
 cation of love's virus soon gave her spasms of ecstasy for a 
 beautiful youth named Adonis. After Venus had received 
 this wound she was a changed goddess in every way, as 
 women often are when their hearts have been pierced by 
 Cupid's unerring shafts. Venus would not even attend the 
 Olympian Court of Jupiter, for Adonis had completely over- 
 come her affections. He was more to her than the imperial 
 majesty of heaven. Adonis was a lover of the fields, the 
 forests and hills ; he cared nothing for the city or to rest in 
 cool places and primp as Venus loved to do. He was fond 
 of the chase and had strengthened his body in this way dur- 
 ing his adolescence, until now he had become a physically 
 perfect youth. (The English word "adolescence" was de- 
 rived from Adonis.) 
 
 Venus had changed her mode of living. She went out 
 into the forests and meadows to hunt, so that she could be 
 near Adonis. She got to be something of a Diana, but was 
 not as courageous as Diana, for Venus would avoid beasts 
 that might turn on her and do her harm. She often cau- 
 tioned her lover Adonis to avoid dangerous beasts, but he 
 was as David is said to have been — fearless and always self- 
 possessed when his life was really in peril ; altho he had 
 better have heeded the cautious precepts of Venus, for one 
 day when she had left him in her chariot, driven by two 
 
142 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 beautiful swans, a wild boar at which he had thrown his 
 spear, turned and set his tusks thru his thigh, which ended 
 this physically perfect youth's career. Venus mourned his 
 loss, and made his bier of flowers, where she wept over his 
 inanimate remains, dampening them with tears of regret, 
 as we all weep over the passing of spring and summer, 
 moaning for the death of the flowers, as this death was sup- 
 posed to characterize. 
 
 Adonis, the youth, impersonates the spring's verdure 
 thruout the land. He was loved by all the goddesses. In 
 late summer his thigh is pierced by the withering winds and 
 frosts. He dies and is lamented by the Goddess of Love. 
 His burial in the fall was always attended with emotional 
 lamentations, while his birth in the spring, when he ap- 
 pears from Proserpine's realm, fresh, young and tender, was 
 always attended with festivals and rejoicing. I judge it 
 would be of great interest to the reader to peruse some of 
 the idylls and poems both of ancient and modern writers on 
 Adonis. Bion's "Adonis" read in connection with the fif- 
 teenth idyll of Theocrates; Shakespeare's "Venus and 
 Adonis," Milton's "Comus," will be of interest, and for il- 
 lustrative poems, sonnets and lyric poems see John Keats, 
 Shelley and Tennyson. Greek anthology is fraught with 
 many beautiful idylls and poems on Adonis. 
 
 When our years by scores we have counted 
 
 Adonis we envy in truth ; 
 When the stair-steps to age we have mounted 
 
 We care to retrace them to youth. 
 
 This problem's one way of solution 
 
 Is through the embryo dawn ; 
 The aged must face dissolution : 
 
 The flesh must go back to go on. 
 
Psyche at Nature's Mirror 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 143 
 
 PSYCHE 
 
 If an artist could paint Psyche as the art of classic litera- 
 ture has endeavored to picture her! She is more than a 
 match for Venus, for it is said they left the altar of Venus 
 to gaze upon Psyche. She awoke every part in man that 
 pertains to the beautiful in both mind and body. Psyche 
 was physically perfect and mentally beautiful. She had 
 physical grace and spiritual dignity. Her manners were 
 natural, her mannerisms alluring. She was handsome and 
 was not aware of it, for she was not proud nor affected, nor 
 did she vaunt or exalt herself to others, or above others. 
 She was just plain, sweet Psyche — yesterday, today and 
 forever. 
 
 After her beauty, grace and unparalleled dignity had been 
 heralded thruout the land, Venus became distracted and de- 
 jected over having a rival that was destined to eclipse her 
 radiance and win the palm of beauty from her. She knew 
 if Paris would have seen her at the wedding of Peleus and 
 Thetus, when he presented the golden apple to the one he 
 considered the most beautiful, he would have, without ques- 
 tion of doubt, given it to Psyche, and then the history of 
 the Trojan War would have been different. Psyche's re- 
 deeming personality was such an obstacle in the path that 
 Venus was to tread in her circular and never-ending trip to 
 love and beauty, that she decided she would do away with 
 this obstacle. To do this she employed the aid of her son, 
 Cupid. She decided that if she could cause Psyche to marry 
 some one way beneath her station, she would in this way 
 succeed in displacing her rival. Venus instructed Cupid to 
 poison one of his sharpest arrows in the love affluvia of 
 some low plebeian or monster, and fire it into Psyche's 
 breast. 
 
 Cupid, to help his mother, first went out to Venus' Gar- 
 den of Love, where there are two fountains. Sweet water 
 
144 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 gushed forth from one and bitter from the other. He filled 
 two vases with this water, one of the bitter, the other of the 
 sweet. He took this water on his arrow to the apartments of 
 Psyche and on entering discovered that she was asleep. 
 This made her appear still more beautiful. He dipped his 
 arrow-head into the bitter water and carefully painted her 
 lips with it. He took the arrow from the lips and in some 
 awkward way started to pierce her side just a little to leave 
 a small flush there if nothing more. Psyche awoke on being 
 touched here, and in doing so she raised up so quickly she 
 in some way drove the arrow into Cupid's side. There he 
 was, wounded himself. Psyche did not know what she had 
 done, for Cupid was invisible. Cupid, knowing he had 
 wounded her more than he intended to and in fear this 
 wound might become a septic love wound, did not think of 
 his own injury but went to work at once to heal Psyche. 
 To do this he applied the sweet water he had with him. 
 He poured copious amounts of this water of mirth over her 
 beautiful curls. 
 
 Psyche's parents had been informed thru an oracle that 
 she was not destined to ever become the wife of any man, 
 no matter what class or distinction they had been mentally 
 entertaining, nor would he be congruous to her charms. 
 The oracle was to the effect that she was to be the wife of 
 a monster who inhabited the mountains, but Apollo could 
 not with truth call him man, nor did he call him a god. He 
 left her to make her own deductions from this ambiguous 
 oracle. Psyche was young and unsophisticated, still she 
 knew it was useless to resist her ordained fate. She pre- 
 pared for the journey to the mountains, her attendants went 
 along with her. She hung her head on the way, as tho she 
 was going to bury her best friend. When she came near 
 the top of the mountain she was compelled to finish the 
 journey alone. She had become weak and weary in climb- 
 ing the mountain, and the fear she had been entertaining 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 145 
 
 caused her heart to palpitate and flutter so much that she 
 was on the verge of collapsing when Zephyr came to her, 
 took her into his arms and tenderly bore her away to a 
 flowery dale, where birds were singing and the golden lights 
 hung about, faded and softened by globes of silvery clouds. 
 
 In a while she became rested and composed, and seemed 
 to repose more confidence in the gods than before, because 
 she lay down on a bed of flowers and went to sleep. After 
 a few hours she awoke refreshed, and was now more 
 anxious to know where she was and what her future was 
 really to be. In looking up and away she could see a large 
 forest. She went in the direction of this forest, and when 
 she arrived near, she ventured inside and there saw a beau- 
 tiful palace, and walked slowly through the great halls and 
 corridors and viewed the decorative art and the finishing 
 with perfect amazement. The mural paintings were of wild 
 beasts and forests, the rising and setting sun, the vernal 
 quarter wth sprouting shrubbery and flowers springing 
 forth, and so on with the other two seasons of summer and 
 winter. While she was viewing this palace in this manner, 
 she wished to look well and long on the part where she 
 now was, so she seated herself on a beautiful upholstered 
 couch. She had no more than sat down than she heard a 
 voice. 
 
 ''Sweet lady," it repeated, "all you are now beholding is 
 yours. We are your servants, be not afraid. Retire to yon- 
 der chamber, Psyche, and repose on the bed of eider-down 
 that has been prepared for you. You may rest until the 
 nurse calls you, then you can go thither to the bath and 
 then to the dining room and we will feed you." 
 
 Psyche could not refuse such temptations, and she did 
 as the voice told her. She rested, bathed, made her toilet 
 and went to the dining room that looked over the great 
 valley and down to the rivers that in the far distant vale 
 looked to her like a white thread lying on the ground. Here 
 
146 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 before her were the most choice viands and nectarian 
 wines and satyrion beverages. Music filled the air, tho she 
 could not see the musicians, but she had never before heard 
 such entrancing strains. Many days passed in this way. 
 She got to be very fond of her environment, altho she had 
 been in constant worry over the monster she was to live 
 with. This at first took away a great amount of her hap- 
 piness. Day after day would come and go, but no husband 
 came to disturb her quietude. He would come with stealth 
 and go furtively away unbeknown to her, until she became 
 so smitten with the desire to be loved by some man or what- 
 ever it was she was to marry, that she had become nervous 
 and in suspense to see and be with him, as such environ- 
 ments will make one passionately fond of everything that 
 is garish, fastidious and beautiful. 
 
 Her predicted spouse finally came near her, but stayed in 
 an adjoining room where he would speak to her with the 
 door locked. He would tell her how fond he was of her, 
 and how sweet she was, and that she was too tender and 
 sweet to be touched by either man or god, for the way he 
 would be driven to behave with her seemed like a sacrilege, 
 for she was pure and tender like the petals of a budding 
 rose, beautiful to look upon, but like rosebuds, if you touch 
 them you ravish their virginity and mar and pollute them, 
 which greatly impairs their beauty and purity. His voice 
 to her was so manly yet tender and sweet, she would have 
 pushed the door open to fall into his arms had it not been 
 locked. She begged for him to open the door. She said: 
 "Just open a little that I may have a moment's view of you. 
 Please do, won't you? Just think how far I have come and 
 how long I have been here and still I have not seen you. 1 
 have a right to see you for I have lived under your roof. 
 That alone makes me your wife; besides, I am yours by the 
 ordinating will of the gods. So open the door, won't you?" 
 
 This and many other words she uttered, but her appeals 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 147 
 
 to him were in vain. He replied : "Perhaps it would not be 
 best that you see me for you might love me too well, and 
 this I do not want. I just want you to care for me as 
 your equal and not to worship me as a god, for I am no 
 better than you." This kept up for a long time until she 
 became homesick to see some of her sisters to consult with 
 them and see what she should do. Perhaps they could 
 help her, so she asked her lord, who had made himself in- 
 visible and had entered her apartment, if she could send 
 for her sisters. Zephyr was dispatched at once and brought 
 her sisters to her side. The sisters had access to the sleep- 
 ing apartments, the bath and the dining room and all that 
 Psyche had had. They asked Psyche all manner of ques- 
 tions about her husband. How she liked him and how he 
 looked, and if he was kind to her and many more things 
 that sisters would naturally ask. 
 
 She told them he was a handsome youth, who was fond 
 of the chase, and was nearly all day in the wilds and among 
 the hills and mountains. Her evasive answers made her 
 sisters suspicious, for at times Psyche would sigh while she 
 was finishing her answers to them. They told her that they 
 were satisfied she had never seen her husband, that he had 
 remained out of her sight ever since she had come to the 
 palace. They went on to say there was a reason for his 
 not showing his face, and that he was such a monster he 
 was ashamed to expose his true self to her, for the contrast 
 between herself and him would be so incongruous he was 
 afraid she would not be happy and would want to leave him 
 at once. This looked so plausible to Psyche, as she remem- 
 bered the oracle of Apollo, and its purporting him to be a 
 monster, and perhaps it was all too true. He might be a 
 terrible being, with a sweet voice like the Sirens, except that 
 the Sirens had beautiful bodies, but he had the voice that 
 she already knew to be charming, but he might have her 
 there to get her in the condition he wanted her, then con- 
 
148 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 sume her bodily. The only advice was the warning that her 
 sisters gave her that she should never go to her sleeping 
 apartments at night unless she was armed with a sharp knife 
 and a light turned low thruout the entire night. After tell- 
 ing her this her sisters departed. 
 
 Psyche could hardly believe this, for she could not under- 
 stand how anyone could be very treacherous that had the 
 tender, sweet voice that he had, and also he surely was not a 
 licentious, passionate brute for she had been there so long, 
 and as beautiful as she knew herself to be he had never as 
 yet laid a finger upon her. However, to be on the safe side, 
 she secretly armed herself with a knife and kept a light 
 burning low while sleeping at night in her boudoir. 
 
 The first night after her sisters were there Psyche awoke 
 in the middle of the night, got out of bed in her night clothes 
 with the light in one hand and the knife in the other. She 
 went into his apartments to satisfy herself what her husband 
 was doing and to perhaps behold him so that she would 
 really know how he looked, and what she had really married. 
 
 Nor did she kill nor did she take the lamp away, 
 
 She passed thru doors and there before her lay 
 
 The substance of her youthful dreams — her life, 
 
 Was where she gazed — she threw away her knife, 
 
 For on his brow and lips with quivering love, 
 
 Peace written there as tho the mystic dove, 
 
 Had lit and said, "Well pleased on thee I rest, 
 
 For love is peace" — by it this brow be blessed. 
 
 This she thought, this to herself would tell, 
 
 As oil from Psyche's candle on him fell. 
 
 And now awake, he raised his hand to touch, 
 
 He said so little, still he thought so much. 
 
 If she were goddess, or if I as thine, 
 
 As she a mortal, or were she divine, 
 
 We'd rise on high and through the heavens rove, 
 
 And reign as Love in the court of the Olympian Jove. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 149 
 
 Cupid saw the light and his wife. This was a disappoint- 
 ment to him, for he was sure that he had given her no rea- 
 son to distrust him, altho there she was ready to harm him 
 after he had been so tender. This was too much! He 
 spread his wings before her very eyes and flew out of the 
 window and away. Psyche tried to follow him, for she now 
 had seen his sweet face, those sweet Cupid lips, those beau- 
 tiful golden locks and his perfect form, not as we imagine 
 him — small and as a child — but as a manly youth, a winged 
 "Charmion." Psyche could not follow, for she could no*, 
 fly as Cupid could. He turned to her as he had passed out 
 of her reach, and tenderly, with tears in his eyes, reproached 
 her for being suspicious of him and for ever thinking that 
 he would harm one hair of her sweet head. 
 
 "You, Psyche, you, dear heart, do you think I could harm 
 you when I have even refrained from caressing you or 
 carrying on customs that are indigenous to domestic happi- 
 ness? I wanted you to remain pure that I could long behold 
 you as a pure virgin as Jove had made you. O, dearest 
 Psyche, my loved one, not my will, but the gods ; they bid 
 me go from you. O, but if I were mortal or if you were 
 divine, or if you had not done as you did. You distrusted 
 that which was of the gods. Now you must suffer, and I, 
 too, for I will always forgive your errors and invoke Jove 
 to send you to Proserpine to fit you for heaven. Then you 
 will know me as I am, and you will trust me and love me/' 
 
 At this he left her. Psyche fell on the floor, weeping and 
 pounding her breast. She was so overcome with grief she 
 fainted, and when she revived she had been carried away 
 from the palace into a grove. She looked about her. She 
 saw her sisters, and went to them and told them what had 
 happened. They laughed at her, and told her they were so 
 glad of it, for now one of them would have a chance, for 
 before there was never the least chance for them as long as 
 she was at hand, for she was so far superior to them in 
 
150 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 personal beauty and all the polite acquirements that were 
 compatible with social dignity. The sisters made an effort 
 to go to the palace that Psyche had just returned from, but 
 as they went to a high precipice and gave their bodies over 
 to Zephyr to be carried on and to the palace, Zephyr 
 dropped them and they were both killed on the rocks below. 
 Psyche did not seem to care so much about her sisters' 
 deaths, but her Cupid she could not forget. She walked 
 here and there, night and day, over hill and dale, o'er moun- 
 tain and glen, on glebe aijid on glade, in copse, and thru 
 forests, but she could not find him. 
 
 Finally in her wanderings she arrived at a Temple of 
 Ceres. Tho tired and worn, she won the favor of the god- 
 dess by her handicraft in arranging the golden grain. She 
 related her troubles to Ceres and petitioned her aid and 
 advice in recovering her loved one. Ceres advised her to 
 see Venus and get her good will. She was sure she could 
 help her if any one could. This she did. She went to the 
 Cytherian goddess, but was received very haughtily by 
 Venus. After Venus had reproached her for trying to usurp 
 her suzerainty and for her doing many things in the past 
 that were unpleasing to her, she told her there was but 
 one thing she could do to further her happiness and that 
 was: she must labor — menial labor at that. Psyche said 
 she did not care what it was ; she would resort to anything 
 to rejoin her husband. 
 
 Venus led her back to her store-house, where she had 
 stored wheat, corn, barley, rye, beans, lentils, and millet. 
 Venus kept this for her pigeons. This grain was all mixed 
 up together, and Venus told Psyche she must separate the 
 grain and put the different kinds in separate bags — the 
 wheat by itself, the corn by itself, and so on, until she had 
 it all separated, and this must all be accomplished before 
 the sun set. Poor Psyche was tired from her nightly vigils 
 and this appeared to her like a herculean task, but she 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 151 
 
 thought she would resort to anything — anything to get 
 back her Cupid. "O, how improvident I have been ! O, 
 fool that I was," she would soliloquize to herself. "Think 
 where I am now, laboring for my subsistence and to get 
 my loved one back, where but a short time back I was sit- 
 ting in a palace feasting on ambrosia and nectarian wines 
 and conversing with the voice I love. O, well, I must not 
 think, I must work." On she went, working and soliloquiz- 
 ing to herself. Little did she know that Cupid was there 
 by her side (invisible) and had told the ants to help her that 
 she might get her task completed ere the sun set. At sun- 
 set Venus came in. She had been to a banquet on Olympus 
 and was dressed in her beautiful cestus and crowned with 
 her choice of flowers. She gave Psyche a stern, cross glance 
 as she entered. Venus could see at a glance that some- 
 one had aided her, for she said, "This is no work of yours, 
 but of him who has caused your misfortune and has in- 
 jured his own happiness. Here, take this for your meal," 
 as Venus threw her a piece of hard, dry, black bread. 
 
 That night poor Psyche slept well, for — poor girl that 
 she was — the gods gave her a night's sweet repose and em- 
 bellished it with beautiful dreams of her Cupid, and caused 
 her to live her sweet pleasures of the past over again. But 
 the awakening was doubly hard, for she wished she could 
 have died in those dreams, providing she could have con- 
 tinued dreaming. (How true they seem and are they not 
 sweeter than reality? Why could not this life instead of 
 being so vain and real, just be one continued sweet dream?) 
 Venus summoned her in the morning to her apartments, 
 and told her to bring several pieces of golden wool from 
 sheep that were feeding near the river bank. Psyche placed 
 her life in jeopardy by going among the sheep for the wool, 
 for there were rams mixed with the flock that could have 
 killed her. As tender and feminine as Psyche was, she pro- 
 cured the wool, for either the River God or Pan took com- 
 
152 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 passion on her and aided her in procuring it, which she took 
 back to Venus. 
 
 Even at this Venus was incredulous and accused her of 
 being aided by some god. She further informed her that 
 she was not satisfied with her, and did not know whether 
 she would do anything for her or not — that things did not 
 lend a pleasing aspect. She told her she would give her 
 another labor to perform, and then she would know how 
 much aid she could really be to her. Whereupon she 
 handed her a box and told her to take it to Proserpine. 
 "Tell Proserpine/' she repeated, "that Venus has sent thee 
 to her abode to borrow a little of her beauty, for in nursing 
 her sick son, Cupid, she has lost some of her beauty." 
 
 Psyche was very much broken up over this, and was 
 sure her days were numbered, but she thought, "What of 
 it? I may as well die as live, anyway, for it begins to 
 appear as though I would never see my darling Cupid any 
 more, anyway, and what is life worth without him ?" With 
 these thoughts, she took the box and went on her way to 
 Erebus into the Plutonic realms. She was so discouraged and 
 unhappy on her journey that she was going to leap from a 
 high cliff, but a tender voice spoke to her from out the 
 rocks and told her to wait, saying, "Wait ! Not yet ! Wait ! 
 There is always time for that after you are sure you're not 
 needed here any longer." This same voice went on to in- 
 form her where she could descend into a cave near by, and 
 pass down to Hades and to Charon, where he would ferry 
 her across to Proserpine and back again. This same voice 
 cautioned her not to peep into the Pandora box after Pros- 
 erpine handed it to her to return to Venus, for it would 
 make her even more trouble than she had now. The voice 
 said, "I know very well woman's weakness — that if you tell 
 them not to look into something hidden from their eyes, 
 it only makes it more difficult for them to avoid doing it, 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 153 
 
 especially when looking for something that has the power 
 to enhance their beauty." 
 
 So on and on she walked until she finally arrived at Plu- 
 to's realm. She was nicely received by Proserpine, the 
 Queen of the Kingdom of Pluto, and after she had delivered 
 her message, she handed over the box. Proserpine took it 
 aside and filled it and gave it back to Psyche, and then 
 Psyche went on her way across the black, muddy river, and 
 up onto the earth's surface again. Psyche had gone 
 through this much of her adventure in Pluto's kingdom and 
 had got out safely and free from injury, consequently it 
 made her quite happy again, and restored her confidence 
 to the extent she felt that there was some hope of pleasing 
 Venus, and by that eventually regain her Cupid. But as 
 she crossed a pond of still water she happened to look down, 
 and the water reflected her somewhat haggard face. This 
 made her very unhappy, for she thought, "O, if I lose my 
 beauty I am surely lost, for then Cupid will never love me 
 again. O what will I do ! O what will I do !" As she said 
 this she happened to look down on the Pandora Box. This 
 reminded her of what it contained — beauty from Proserpine 
 for Venus. "Venus, that horrid thing who has treated me 
 with so much insolence and disregard ! And, too, I have 
 run with my poor, tired limbs all this way to get this for 
 her, and have lost some of my own beauty in doing it. Well, 
 I don't care if I was told not to look into the box. I am 
 going to open it and take a little of its contents myself. 
 She won't miss it. Then I can repair the lines that have 
 formed in my own face." 
 
 With querulent desire she raised the lid to peep, 
 But overcome with power that made her sleep, 
 In a moment more she neither knew nor saw, 
 For a power Divine had tried by this to wean 
 Her from incredulous moods and curious mein. 
 
154 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 When first the cover raised, her heart was sore, 
 Tho not for long — for she now knew no more, 
 For out the box all but hope had flown, 
 Nor did she know, for sleep had crowned its own. 
 With Stygian essence to fit her for her goal, 
 Jove's way through sorrow to immortalize the soul. 
 
 There're welcome parts in all the evil things, 
 For a drowning man's relieved by death it brings, 
 As Psyche was, when she the cover raised, 
 And blessed sleep had her senses dazed ; 
 She snapped the clasp, still it wasn't "broke," 
 And closed the box in time to hold some "Hope.'' 
 
 As soon as Psyche opened the cover to this Pandora box, 
 she was overcome by something the human eye could not 
 see. She fell over in a calm sleep that was next to uncon- 
 sciousness. But Cupid felt something had gone wrong with 
 Psyche on her return journey, so he flew to her, and there 
 she was on the grass, sound asleep, and the clasp of the box 
 had been tampered with, but the cover was closed. Cupid 
 knew well what she had done. He knew her curiosity had 
 been aroused to see the contents, and to try on herself what 
 she thought it contained to regain the little beauty she had 
 lost in her last few months of trouble. 
 
 Cupid awoke her by touching her side with his arrow. 
 "Ah, Psyche," he said, as she became conscious, "your curi- 
 osity has nearly ruined you. But I still love you, although 
 you have doubted me." He gathered the lost soporific sub- 
 stances together, opened the box quickly and replaced it in 
 the box that still contained "Hope" that had stuck to the 
 bottom. He told Psyche to take the box to his mother, and 
 he would see that she would be happy the rest of eternity. 
 She did as he said. 
 
 Then Cupid went and counseled with Jupiter, and in sup- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 155 
 
 pliant attitude, asked him to help, for fye told Jupiter how 
 much he loved a mortal, and also went on to say that his 
 Psyche was sweeter and purer than most of the immortals ; 
 and he asked him if he would not be so kind as to make her 
 divine, and set them in his heavenly court among the rest 
 of the gods and goddesses. Jupiter consented to this, and 
 sent Mercury to convey Psyche to this heavenly abode. 
 Mercury gave her wings, and informed her what was in 
 store for her. She soon lost the little wrinkles she had got- 
 ten in her sweet face by worrying, for now she was happy 
 indeed. When Mercury and Psyche had reached the 
 inner court of Jupiter, he had his cup-bearer hand Psyche 
 a draught of ambrosia. Jupiter told her, "Drink this 
 little dear, and you will be immortal, and this will unite you 
 to Cupid." At this Cupid embraced her, and there they 
 stood, Cupid and Psyche, before the throne of the great 
 Jupiter. Psyche and Cupid kissed. "How happy I am now 
 that I possess you, Cupid," she said. "Yes, dear, and we 
 are both divine, too, dearest, and can never be separated," 
 he replied, and so they were, and so they have lived ever 
 since. They have been blessed with one child, and that 
 they named Pleasure; and from time almost unknown, 
 these two and their offspring, have presided over that which 
 is the sweetest part of our lives — Love, Romance and 
 Pleasure. 
 
 Psyche with love and with neatness 
 Won Cupid and heaven, her goal, 
 That's made her the emblem of sweetness 
 And the immortality of soul. 
 
156 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 MARS OR ARIES, THE GOD OF WAR, 
 AND OTHER DEITIES 
 
 Mars, son of Jupiter and Juno, Mars the avenger, Mars 
 the insatiable war god, loves the carnage of battle, masterly 
 and commanding. He forces the onslaught, panoplied in 
 his shining helmet, resplendent with plumes and shield, forc- 
 ing his chariot steeds with redoubtable spear held aloof. 
 He welcomes all comers. He was the heroic god of heroic 
 ages, sapient, puissant, agile, swift, cunning and gigantic. 
 During the crucial moment of wavering conquest his four 
 ubiquitous sons, Terror, Trembling, Panic and Fear, and 
 his sister, Eris or Discord, are actively engaged. If near 
 cities, Enyo is also present, who is a daughter of Mars. Ac- 
 cording to the Iliad, Mars is not always successful in war. 
 
 Mars was extremely fond of Venus. What a contrast — 
 Goddess of Love and God of War. Venus was his mistress 
 from whom Harmonia was born, from whom sprung the an- 
 cestors of the dynasty of Thebes. His animals were the 
 vulture and the dog; his emblems the burning torch and 
 the spear. The Romans called him the "Shining One/' The 
 Campus Martius, or the Field of Mars at Rome, was dedi- 
 cated to this war god. It was here that all military pageants 
 and vice regal games took place in ancient days. A temple 
 was built here, and priests watched over his sacred shield 
 that fell from heaven during the reign of Numa. There are 
 few archaic figures of Mars. The finest, perhaps, is the 
 Aries Ludovisi in Rome, 300 B. C. 
 
 From Mars we will go to some of the lesser deities of the 
 earth. Triton and Proteus were sons of Neptune. Proteus 
 could transmute himself at will, and was gifted as a prophet. 
 The sea gods were armed with a trident — a three-pronged 
 spear. This was supposed to be their elemental power to 
 shatter the rocks of the earth. The Harpies were wicked 
 and frightful creatures, with heads of maidens and bodies 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 157 
 
 formed like ravens with terrible claws. Their facial expres- 
 sion was sallow and jejune; their progenitors were Pontus 
 and Gaea, who were always supposed to be present with 
 Phorcys and Ceto to laugh and exult over disasters at sea. 
 
 The Graeae were three witches who had but one eye be- 
 tween them. 
 
 The Gorgons were monsters whose power was so mani- 
 fest that one look of theirs would turn to stone. 
 
 Scylla was a six-headed beast who was supposed to be 
 changed into a dangerous reef, near the Straits of Messina. 
 
 The Sirens were sea muses, who by their singing would 
 draw the sailors to them and on the rocks, thus destroy the 
 ships and all who chanced to be aboard. Both their faces 
 and voices were so overwhelmingly entrancing that it would 
 impel the most masculine to surrender to their magnetic yet 
 formidable overtures. 
 
 The Water Nymphs were called Oceonids and Nereids. 
 They were named from Nereus, the old man of the sea. 
 The Naiads were nymphs of brooks, cascades and fountains. 
 The poet's conception of their physical charms has been 
 transmuted by the limner's brush from poetry to human 
 form, gowned only by the garments nature gave them, their 
 long waving tresses and soft white integument. Their fin- 
 gers are classically formed, their arms and limbs taper to 
 an Apolloistic type of personified perfection ; their shoulders 
 have the Praxitiles slant, their breasts the most alluring 
 feature of woman's physical grace, are drawn with a mam- 
 mary fullness patterned after a moietied olive. These puta- 
 tive beings are always playing about brooks, rivers and 
 fountains, amid reeds and narcissus, sometimes having their 
 siesta under the shade of plain trees. No matter what atti- 
 tude they are in, they are beautiful and inspring — inspiring 
 indeed, for what is more so than a beautiful woman? 
 
158 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 HERCULES 
 
 Hercules was a son of Jupiter by Alcemine ; his birthplace 
 was supposed to have been in Thebes. Hercules was wor- 
 shipped as one of the greatest of the Grecian heroes. Juno 
 being jealous of his mother always entertained a dislike for 
 him; this was the direct cause of continuous war between 
 them. Even when he lay in his cradle Juno sent two ser- 
 pents to destroy him, tho without success, for Hercules 
 strangled the reptiles with his infantile hands. Hercules 
 was under the tutelage of the most proficient pedagogues 
 that were procurable, in both music, wisdom and virtue. 
 He was a forward youth in school, and would not accept 
 punishment for his misdemeanors. He even went so far 
 after being reprimanded by Linus, his music teacher, as to 
 kill him by striking him with the instrument he was prac- 
 tising upon. After this dastardly exploit he was sent to the 
 wilderness as punishment, where he became a powerful 
 giant, and where he, in a short time, slew the Thespian lion 
 and all other obstacles that happened to come before him. 
 
 Apollo recognized his valor and heroic deeds and from 
 that time favored him. After a short while he returned to 
 the city of Orchomenus, and after performing strenuous 
 deeds of valor he became insane, and during his raving 
 killed several of the royalty as well as his children. For 
 this Minerva struck him with a stone that brought him 
 back to his senses. Eurystheus could see where he could 
 use Hercules to good advantage, for there were a number 
 of labors that some one must undertake, which were peril- 
 ous in the extreme, but Hercules looked to be the one cut 
 out for these undertakings. Because of his success, they 
 were named the "twelve labors of Hercules. " 
 
 The first one for him to undertake was the lion of Nemea. 
 Hercules sought this lion and strangled it to death, and 
 brought its hide as a trophy of his victory to the king. The 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 159 
 
 next adventure for him was the killing of the hydra at 
 Argos. This enormous water serpent had been making 
 things very unpleasant for the citizens of Argos for a long 
 period, and no one had sufficient courage to attempt the de- 
 struction of this reptile. This hydra had nine heads, one of 
 which was immortal. Hercules used his club on all of 
 these heads and each stroke decapitated one. But as soon 
 as they fell to the earth two more would immediately grow- 
 in their place. He had to philosophize how he would get 
 rid of this terrble reptile, and after a short while he con- 
 cluded he would use fire instead of his club. This he did 
 and it proved effectual. The ninth or immortal head he hid 
 under a huge rock. 
 
 His next adventure was the Erymonthus boar that was 
 terrorizing the surrounding country until they were crazed 
 with fear. Hercules soon ended the boar's career, and was 
 on his way for more beasts to do away with. His fourth 
 adventure was to capture the golden antlered and brazen- 
 hoofed stag in Cerynea. The fifth was the Stamphalion 
 birds which he was called on to destroy. They were mon- 
 strous birds with immense crooked bills, and long, sharp 
 talons. They could reach to the ground from the tree-tops 
 and grasp an ordinary man by the head, and draw him up 
 to the top of the tree where the bird would feast on his 
 remains, and then doze and sleep for several days. Her- 
 cules slew these birds and was soon ready for his sixth ad- 
 venture. 
 
 This was the cleaning of the Augean stables. They were 
 the stables of Augeus, King of Elis, who had many thou- 
 sand cattle and horses stabled for a long period but had 
 neglected to have his servants clean the stables. Hercules 
 dug a channel to drain the rivers Apheus and Peneus thru 
 them, which washed them free from insalubrious substances. 
 His seventh labor was the Cretean Bull, which he was to 
 encounter. Hercules went to Minos, King of Crete, and 
 
160 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 told him he would relieve him of the harmful bull that Nep- 
 tune had loaded upon him. Minor was pleased to be rid of 
 this bull, for it had caused him many heartaches and much 
 disturbed his nightly slumbers in thinking of him. Her- 
 cules took the brute to the city of Mycene. (My interpreta- 
 tion of this bull of Crete is that the island was subject, in 
 the early days, to a dark thunder cloud that came from the 
 southeast and at times from the southwest and hung over 
 the island and the rising heat from the Sahara Desert caused 
 thunder that sounded like a raving bull until Hercules drove 
 it to Greece — (Hercules being a powerful element.) His 
 next and eighth operation was to remove the Thracian 
 horses from the tormented King Diomede. No one could 
 approach them, for they would kill and eat human flesh. 
 Hercules drove them thru the wilds of Arcadia where the 
 wild beasts devoured them. 
 
 His ninth labor was to procure the girdle of the Queen 
 of the Amazons. Admeta, the daughter of Eurystheus, in- 
 formed her father she would like the girdle, and to induge 
 the wants of his daughter, he had Hercules procure it. The 
 Amazonian women were a hardy race. They did away with 
 weakly female children and took extra care in their crude 
 eugenics to make their women as physically powerful as 
 possible. In this they succeeded. Hercules had no easy 
 task before him, but nothing daunted his courage. He went 
 to Hyppolyta, their Queen, who received him cordially and 
 agreed to give him the girdle, but Juno assumed the form 
 of an Amazonian and let on to the Amazonians, Hercules 
 had designs on their Queen and was duly subterfuging to 
 carry her away to another land. The Amazonians became 
 aroused at this hint, and surrounded Hercules' ship. This 
 enraged Hercules and he killed the Queen at once and by 
 force removed her girdle and drove the guards from about 
 the ship and came away with the girdle. 
 
 His tenth labor was to capture the oxen of Geryon and 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 161 
 
 to build or raise the mountains on the two continents, Africa 
 and Europe, that caused the Straits of Gibraltar, called the 
 Pillars of Hercules. His eleventh was robbing the Gardens 
 of the Hesperides of their golden apples. Hercules went to 
 the region of the Atlas mountains in Africa, to see the 
 father of the Hesperides, who was Atlas. He told Atlas he 
 would hold the heavens on his shoulders while he (Atlas) 
 must go and get the golden apples. This would not only- 
 rest him but would be a novelty to him. Atlas handed over 
 the heavens to Hercules and Hercules placed them upon his 
 shoulders while Atlas went for the golden apples. In short 
 he returned with them and told Hercules he would take 
 them to Eurystheus himself. Hercules said: "Very well, 
 but just lay the apples down for a moment and take the 
 heavens until I arrange the pad on my shoulders. " Atlas 
 did this willingly, thinking of the long rest and change he 
 would soon have, but after he had replaced the heavens on 
 his shoulders, Hercules picked up the golden apples, bid 
 Atlas adieu and made his escape. Atlas could not follow 
 with his burden nor tould he drop the heavens. 
 
 His twelfth and last labor was the bringing of Cerberus 
 from the Underworld. Mercury and Minerva went with 
 him on this mission. Pluto gave his permission, but Her- 
 cules was not to use anything but his hands in this labor. 
 Tho he was even successful in this, he carried Cerberus to 
 Eurystheus and back to Hades again, tho he experienced 
 much difficulty in doing it for Cerberus bit and blew poison- 
 ous vapors into his face and struggled to relieve himself 
 from his malignant grasp, he was so hopelessly involved in. 
 But his struggles were useless. Hercules was victorious — 
 his grip was infrangible and death-dealing to those who 
 would not relent. While in Hades, Hercules happened to 
 see his friend, Theseus, who had been shut up there for his 
 attempted abduction of Proserpine. Hercules prevailed 
 upon the authorities to let him have his liberty, which they 
 
162 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 conceded to after many more exploits before Troy and 
 against Laomedon, and with the Argonauts and his un- 
 chaining of Prometheus from the Caucasian Mountains, 
 where his liver had been gnawed by vultures for many cen- 
 turies, and where as foretold Hercules was in the future to 
 be his deliverer, fulfilled this prophecy. 
 
 Hercules was now a great hero. He married the sister of 
 Meleager, of Calydonian fame. Her name was Dejanira. 
 After an unhappy termination of their married life on ac- 
 count of Nissus, the centaur, trying to carry his wife away, 
 which culminated into much trouble for them both, Her- 
 cules decided to end his unparalleled career. He ascended 
 Mount y£tna, where he constructed his own funeral pyre. 
 After handing his bow and arrows to Philoctetes and draw- 
 ing his lion's skin robe over him and placing his club un- 
 der his head for a pillow, he asked Philoctetes to apply the 
 torch, which he did. As the flames licked up his powerful 
 body he smiled and welcomed death. All of the gods 
 grieved at his demise, for he had been a great benefactor 
 to the earth and champion of all heroes. But not all of 
 Hercules burned in the flames. The Jovistic essence from 
 his father's side ascended to heaven. Juno had become 
 reconciled to him thru his wonderful adventures on earth. 
 She even went so far as to adopt him as her son and gave 
 him her daughter, Heba, in marriage, where he from then 
 on reigned in the court of the Immortals. 
 
 THE SIGNIFICANCE OF HERCULES 
 
 Almost all mythological scholars agree that the inter- 
 pretive significance of this great hero is a difficult problem 
 tc conjecture. But as many have given their opinion that 
 he is the personification of the sun, and its heroic power 
 and influence on the earth, it seems altogether probable 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 163 
 
 that the ancients had meant him to characterize this very 
 life-giving metaphysical object. When the earth was first 
 cast into space in its molten form, it was traveling thru 
 space as now at a great velocity of speed, and continued 
 drawing atoms from oblivion to its surface, which after 
 many thousands of centuries became encrusted with the 
 earth's present superficial strata that together with comets 
 striking the earth, and leaving behind the detritus and soil, 
 acted as a blanket that smothered its intense heat and 
 cooled it to a great degree; while time further cooled its 
 surface until vegetation sprang up from its soil. After trfe 
 blanket of soil or the stratas were gathered by this process 
 of revolving and absorbing atoms, it ceased attracting for 
 the lack of heat, as we know an intense flame will attract 
 the moth or small substances to it by suction. After many 
 centuries, the storms caused the seas upon the earth, that 
 with the aid of the north and south poles, where great ice- 
 bergs form and break away and float down the ocean's 
 current and melt, has also helped fill the indentations of 
 the earth's surface. 
 
 In the early days the earth being so hot caused steam to 
 rise from its surface. Dense clouds of vapor hung over the 
 earth and made it a dark, foggy, unpleasant place to in- 
 habit. Many other disagreeable elements were necessary 
 to use in completing the world's building, but were so 
 clouded at that time as it made the earth unsatisfactory to 
 live upon, the same as building a house to live in while the 
 carpenters are at work. There are so many things in the 
 way, and so many parts that are not completed, that it is 
 unpleasant to try to inhabit until it is finished. That was 
 the condition of the earth in its early stages. 
 
 So it has taken time to remove these monsters or differ- 
 ent elements. The Greeks characterized these unpleasant 
 things as great monstrosities, abnormal beasts and reptiles, 
 that the people were compelled to tolerate until Hercules, 
 
164 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 the hero, — who was nothing more than the sun, that they 
 found it convenient to name and characterize as Hercules, 
 a great giant endowed with divine attributes, who, tho 
 being powerful was good, and was the great helper and 
 benefactor to mankind by doing away with these obstacles. 
 The sun's rays have in time performed the twelve labors 
 credited to Hercules and many besides, altho it has taken 
 unnumbered years to accomplish all this. Its heat has 
 crumbled the rocks, boiled the sea, vapored the clouds that 
 fell and washed rocks and mountains away. It has caused 
 the lightning to crash, the seismic shocks, the cyclones and 
 numerous other disturbances that prepared the earth for a 
 more habitable globe. Hercules was a hero who possessed 
 a benignant smile at times, or on the contrary, he could 
 be very ugly. This is the way with the sun, for this fiery 
 orb is pleasure-loving when it comes out in the bright, 
 summer morning; its face smiles on us and makes the 
 whole world laugh. It also gets angry (as Hercules often 
 became) when there is a mist over his face, and its formid- 
 able features burn and scorch the earth's vegetation and ani- 
 mal life. Tho Hercules was endowed as the sun with both 
 attributes — good and bad — the object of committing de- 
 structive deeds was to further the progress of good. (For 
 illustrative poems see Sir Philip Sidney's "Astrophel and 
 Stella"; Pope's "Rape of the Lock," and "Dunciad"; 
 Browning's "Balaustion" ; William Morse's "Golden Ap- 
 ple," and Bayard Taylor's "Hylas.") 
 
 THE PLEIADS 
 
 Altho Orion has received the swift arrows from Diana's 
 bow, evidently he has not been taught to cease his wander- 
 ing after beautiful women, for he still chases the Pleiads and 
 they still flee before him. These beautiful Pleiads are 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 165 
 
 seven in number. They are the lovely daughters of Atlas, 
 and belong to the hunting goddess, for she has retained 
 them for her retinue of nymphs. Orion gave chase to over- 
 take them once in ages gone, and they became so frightened 
 at his following them, that they appealed to Jove to change 
 them into doves. This he did, and they were blessed with 
 fleet and posphorescent wings that gave them the power 
 to pinion far away from their pursuer to their heavenly 
 abode, where they are plainly visible. 
 
 The constellation, called the Pleiads, must have been 
 observed in remote days, for it was spoken of by Job in 
 the Old Testament. Only six of these seven sisters can be 
 seen. Electra has left her sisters.* Not that she was tired 
 of their company, but that by remaining in the sky she 
 would be compelled to look upon the ruined city of Troy 
 that was founded by her son, Dardanus, and after whom 
 the straits, or Dardanelles, were named. The great Trojan 
 war had a terrible effect on all of the seven. They lost 
 much of their youthful radiance, and became attenuated and 
 pale, and have never recovered their former beauty. Elec- 
 tra became a comet, and while leaving her sisters in haste, 
 her hair came down, and in running, the breezes have 
 blown it in flowing curls of golden flame that is called the 
 tail of the comet. Diana was always jealous of the Pleiads 
 tho she was an immaculately pure goddess. She has 
 created no small amount of heavenly gossip, not only being 
 coupled with the name of Orion, but also with that of 
 Endymion. She has been confounded with Selene, the 
 moon goddess, and it has been said that she was away at 
 frequent intervals, and the gods were of the opinion she 
 was not hunting all of this time, but was watching over 
 this youth, Endymion. 
 
 Venus had at times been so ill-treated by Diana, because 
 of her lascivious mode of life, that the former, no doubt, 
 
 ♦Read The Immortal Dante's "Divina Commedia. ,, 
 
166 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 had been waiting in ambush for an opportunity to pay 
 back the chaste Diana for the trouble she had caused her. 
 It is possible that Venus had her little dwarf son, Cupid, 
 with her, and had him fire an arrow into her heart that she 
 might know the sweet pains of love's paroxysms as she 
 had known them. The story is that Cupid fired the arrow, 
 and Diana began her love peregrinations at once. If this 
 moon goddess was not Diana, it was Selene, the more an- 
 cient goddess of the moon, but we will say that it was 
 Diana, for she had flirted with Endymion in her modest 
 way of flirting, that is sure, for she looked down with hope- 
 ful and winning glance at night on Endymion, who was a 
 shepherd on Mount Latimus, herding his sheep. Endymion 
 had been watching all day and had fallen asleep at night, 
 and his beautiful body reclining upon the grass awoke a 
 desire in her that changed her whole attitude towards men. 
 She at once flew down to him, kneeled over him while he 
 was still sleeping and kissed him. Every night she would 
 repeat this loving tryst and go to Endymion and kiss him. 
 These visits away from her heavenly home became so fre- 
 quent that the gods were suspicious of her, for when she 
 would return in the morning, after her night's rendezvous, 
 she gave the appearance of over-indulgence and staying out 
 too late at night. She had taken on a pale and haggard 
 expression that displeased Jupiter, to the extent that he 
 decided he would discover the cause of her nocturnal 
 rovings. 
 
 He watched her and found she was in love with Endy- 
 mion. Jupiter said nothing to Diana, but told Endymion 
 he would sentence him with two penalties, and that it 
 would be optional with him which one he would accept. 
 The sentence was that he could choose death out and out, 
 or that he could choose perpetual youth, united with per- 
 petual sleep. Endymion chose the latter, and he, even to 
 this day sleeps in caves and is visited the same as before 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 167 
 
 by she who watched over him on Mount Latimus. She 
 watches his flocks while he sleeps and sees that nothing 
 shall happen to them, or to him. She surely loves him, for 
 no matter where Jupiter has driven him to hide or where 
 he sleeps, she seeks after him in caves, thru valleys, can- 
 yons, meadows and plain, and even under the sea. 
 
 The interpretation of Endymion is thought to signify 
 either a hunter who has been on the chase all day and sleep 
 by night, or that he signifies vegetation coated with the 
 evening dew. Diana or Selene, whichever it may be, is the 
 moon's soft light that kisses his sleeping brow. For illus- 
 trative poems, see John Keat's "Endymion" or Spencer's 
 "Epithalamion" or Hume's "Metrical Essays." "A thing 
 of beauty is a joy forever," Keats' "Endymion." 
 
 ENDYMION 
 
 The "Oblivion Mount," the ancient resting place 
 For Endymion, who spent nocturnal hours 
 
 In sleep well earned by huntsmen on the chase, 
 Or shepherd's bed, a couch of folded flowers. 
 
 Of Latmus' caves, the poets love to tell 
 
 Of this fair youth whom goddesses adored ; 
 
 One flew from out the sky and on him fell, 
 
 And kissed his brow — on him caresses poured. 
 
 But why not conscious of such pleasing things 
 As celestial virgins hovering o'er his form, 
 
 Joy without bounds unfelt she brings — 
 Soft, sweet, mellow love, and warm. 
 
 And not to know! Ah, why should stories end. 
 And leave this youth still sleeping in a cave? 
 
 And not to wake and even countersend, 
 
 To clasp and hold, to feel, to love and crave? 
 
168 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 To sleep and have is no better than a dream, 
 For to know is substance of all joy. 
 
 For we must feel for pleasure not to seem, 
 
 To tease and please. Oh, Jove, go wake the boy ! 
 
 THE RAPE OF PROSERPINE 
 
 Proserpine was the daughter of Ceres — the world de- 
 notes to "creep forth" — but in the Greek, she was called 
 Cora, which signified a "bringer of death." Thus the for- 
 mer was the vegetation creeping forth in the spring, while 
 the latter represented the dissiduous blades and leaves 
 perishing in the fall. Ears of corn were her symbol of 
 florescence and vegetation; poppies were her symbol of 
 sleep and death; while pomegranates were the fruit of the 
 underworld, that if partaken of rendered them in a state of 
 sequestered "mauvais su jet," a bad man, who has taken 
 evil fruit and shall never see the light of heaven. Many 
 illustrative poems are extant, worthy of mention. Aubrey 
 de Vere, "The Search after Proserpine"; Swinburne's 
 "Hymns to Proserpine," and Rossetti's "Proserpine" should 
 be perused. The queenly person of Proserpine was queenly 
 by duress or rape. Pluto, the King of Hades, or the under- 
 world, stole her in Sicily, on the plains of Enna, and 
 dragged her to his realm where she is ruler of the shades. 
 Her supposed or imagined queenly presence comes forth 
 from this realm each and every spring. She bears a cornu- 
 copia full of flowers and fruit. In the late fall she sits at 
 the left hand of Pluto, as his Queen, and directs the Furies, 
 who are inimical to all plant life at these duly recurring 
 seasons of death. 
 
 It was from the dictates of Venus, the mother of Cupid, 
 that caused him to fire his sharpest dart into the breast of 
 Pluto. He loved her at once, and tho Ceres, her mother, 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 169 
 
 was in close pursuit, he had reached the River Cyane, where 
 he wielded his trident that opened the passageway to Tar- 
 tarus and the Garden of Asphodel, where he carried her. 
 Ceres, the mother of cereals, and the mother of Proserpine, 
 hunted the world over for her sweet daughter. Aurora 
 (the bright morning) and Hesperus, the bright jewels of 
 heaven, aided her with their light in her search. Tired and 
 exhausted, she sat on a stone to rest, where she remained 
 many days. This rock was near the home of an old man 
 whose name was Celeus, and at this spot in after years 
 was built the City of Eleusis. From this sprung the Eleu- 
 sinian Mysteries, for which a hymn by Museus, the son of 
 Orpheus, was composed and always sung at the celebration 
 of these mysteries. 
 
 While Ceres sat there, the little daughter of Celeus came 
 to Ceres and called her "mother." At once Ceres awoke in 
 ecstasy, on being called "mother." She was invited in their 
 home but she declined at first, altho when she was told by 
 this old man that he had had a similar bereavement, she 
 went with them and accepted the old man's hospitality. 
 Celeus went on to say that he had even worse cares than 
 she; that his only son lay sick with fever and was giving 
 him endless worry. At this the Goddess stooped and 
 plucked some poppies that grew at the wayside. She car- 
 ried them with her to the bedside of the son, Trptolemus. 
 The boy was burning up with fever, but with a single kiss 
 the child was restored to normal health. To compensate 
 Ceres, and to manifest their gratitude, they spread the 
 board with honeycomb, apples, curds and cream, and while 
 at the table Ceres squeezed poppy-juice in the boy's milk. 
 When night came on the boy was overcome by sleep, Ceres 
 used some precursory ejaculations and passed her hands 
 over him and then laid him in ashes with coals of fire 
 smoldering about him. At this the boy's mother, with a 
 reproach to Ceres, withdrew the boy from the fire. Where- 
 
170 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 upon Ceres began to show her divine aspect, with a golden 
 radiance that shone around them all. Ceres answered the 
 reproach by saying, "Mother, you have been your son's 
 own enemy, by your fondness and shielding attitude. I 
 would have immortalized your son had you not disturbed 
 me." The mother was overcome with regret, yet of short 
 duration, for Ceres told her the boy would be of great use 
 to the world. "He shall teach men to plow and to raise 
 crops and be the patron of agriculture" (which he proved to 
 be ever after in Greek mythology). At this, Ceres was en- 
 veloped in a cloud and vanished from their sight. 
 
 Ceres went from here to every quarter of the earth's 
 surface in quest of her daughter Proserpine, and had re- 
 turned to the banks of the Cyrane river in Sicily. This is 
 where Pluto had taken Proserpine below, and where Proser- 
 pine had cast off the girdle. The river nymphs would have 
 willingly informed Ceres of the whereabouts of Proserpine, 
 but they were deathly afraid of Pluto's implacable anger. 
 This girdle was sufficient proof for Ceres. She knew it 
 had floated at her feet and was cast off by her daughter, 
 Proserpine, in her flight, and that this was done to leave 
 evidence behind her that her mother might locate her. 
 Ceres, enraged at this, execrated this hitherto unpolluted 
 earth, and from this time on the earth has had floods, 
 droughts, hot winds, famine and plague, until the fountain 
 Goddess Arethusia came to the land's rescue. 
 
 Arethusia told Ceres she had (in flying from Alpheus in 
 the caves of Hades) seen down the fretted vaults of Erebus, 
 the beautiful daughter of Ceres ; that she had become sub- 
 missive and had the dignity and bearing of a queen, altho 
 the Queen of Pluto in Hades. Ceres was somewhat sad, 
 but was greatly relieved, when she was inspired with the 
 idea of invoking Jupiter to intercede in her behalf, to re- 
 store her daughter to the sun's light at least once a year, 
 and this to be spring, and after the November frost to allow 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 171 
 
 her to return to her office of Queen of the Shades. Jupiter 
 counseled her that she must not partake of any foods while 
 below, for if she did the Fates would not consent to her 
 release. However, Mercury intervened and went straight 
 to Pluto and demanded Proserpine. 
 
 Pluto could not resist — or at least he did not. But Proser- 
 pine had eaten a pomegranate seed that Pluto had handed 
 her. So it was necessary for them to compromise, which 
 they did. Proserpine was to stay half the year with Pluto 
 as his Queen, and the balance with her mother, Ceres, to 
 bathe in the sun's rays, under the canopy of heaven. Ceres 
 was so pleased, she now favored the earth with all things 
 known to the science of botany and agriculture. She 
 thought of the old man's son, Triptolemus, and she found 
 him and took him in her chariot, which was propelled by 
 winged dragons that toured the entire earth, and under her 
 precepts the young man taught men the art of agriculture 
 and gave them all kinds of seeds to sow. After he had ac- 
 complished all of this he built a temple to Ceres in Eleusis, 
 and here established the worship of this Goddess of Cereals, 
 under the name of the Elusinian Mysteries, which in their 
 regular occurrence and enthusiastic solemnities surpass all 
 other religious festivals of the ancients. (For illustrative 
 poems read : Hood's "Ode to Melancholy" ; Tennyson's 
 "Demeter and Proserpine"; and Schiller's "Festival," etc. 
 In art, Bernoini's "Pluto and Proserpine"; and Schobelt's 
 "Rape of Proserpine.") 
 
 The Eleusinian Mysteries are mantled in a dark veil of 
 secrecy that has rendered it impossible for generations of 
 ages to penetrate its real significance, because these secrets 
 belong to God and are the phenomena of life and death, the 
 unknown, and the unknowable. It meant not only the 
 growth of the condiments for our subsistence, but it also 
 meant purification of our beings from crime, passion, deadly 
 sins and the various degradations of human society. The 
 
172 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 significance of Pluto and Proserpine is plainly conceivable: 
 that the elements that produce vegetation lay in dormant 
 and dark pose in the ground, or Hades, for part of the year 
 which is winter, and in the spring the earth is crowned 
 with herbs and grain, which is Proserpine, who has ap- 
 peared on the earth's surface to visit her mother, Ceres, 
 under the light of heaven. 
 
 According to different authors, the underworld was in 
 two different localities. The Odyssey says it is in the far 
 west of the Island of Ocean. This dark realm is bounded 
 by the River Styx, the sealer of oaths, and the Acheron 
 River of Woe. With its different ramifications, Phlegethon, 
 River of Fire, and Cocytus, River of Wailing. Mercury, 
 the swift messenger of spiritual transition, carried the de- 
 parted to this realm.* And from Mercury's arms on the 
 banks of the River of Woe, Charon, the old attenuated 
 boatman, ferries them across this river if they had been 
 provided with a coin which was supposed to have been 
 placed in their mouths at death, as his fee. 
 
 At the gates of Pluto, in statant posture, is Cerberus, the 
 three-headed serpent-tailed dog, friendly to all who enter, 
 but will allow none to depart with impunity. Strange ap- 
 paritions appear in this dark abode; shades of old men 
 and women are seen here ; black, somber forests grow here ; 
 the soil in many places is murky and boggy ; faded willows 
 and poplars are numerous. The meads of Asphodel where 
 dark souls wander are embellished somewhat by faded 
 weeds and thorny flowers. Its novelty in being a seques- 
 tered abode or retreat for forlorn romantic men and women, 
 and the name it has been christened, "The Garden of 
 Proserpine," lends a beckoning pleasure, an inviting change 
 to go below and lay your head on the breast of the beauti- 
 ful Proserpine, away from this troublesome world of ours. 
 Some authors say the entrance to this realm is at Lake 
 
 ♦See Mifts Hemans' Poem, 'The Lost Pleiad." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 173 
 
 Avernus, near Cumea, Italy. This lake is so foul from 
 noxious gases and poisonous effluvia that a bird that at- 
 tempts to fly across it is always overcome and dies before 
 it reaches the opposite shore. 
 
 However, the souls of the departed could weather this 
 entrance and when they had entered the inner court of 
 Hades, they were judged by three personages called the 
 "Judges of the Underworld. ,, Their names were Eacus, 
 Minos and Rhadamanthus. Here the souls of the dead 
 were tried. If condemned they were to be sent to enclosed 
 places where they were tortured by the fifty-headed Hydra 
 and by the avenging Furies. But the souls of the good, 
 who were proven virtuous and pure, were sent to the Ely- 
 sian Fields, where they lived the same life as before, in 
 spring and summer, in sweet air and golden sunsets ; where 
 friends after death are reunited and where life is one long 
 song and poem, and where you can float on the River Lethe 
 and drink the oblivion of pleasures from the cup of decar- 
 nate youth. 
 
 After the perusal of Solon's short sketch on the "Island 
 of the Western Sea/' and Plato's "Republic," and then the 
 "Elysium" of Pindar, also "The Fortunate Isle of the 
 Blessed," it seems of logical sequence to believe that the 
 earthly heaven referred to must have been the lost Atlantis 
 (read Lord Bacon's "New Atlantis" and Ignatius Donnelly's 
 "Atlantis" ; Hesiod's "Works and Days" ; also, "Avalon" or 
 "Fortunate Isles," by Andrew Lang.) 
 
 HECATE AND HEBE 
 
 Hecate was a goddess of the Infernal Regions. She is 
 without doubt no other than Proserpine, the wife and queen 
 of Pluto. The name Hades lends a sound of horror, but 
 according to all accounts, by different mythological char- 
 
174 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 acters who have visited this place, there are beautiful spots 
 even in hell. I would imagine the Garden of Asphodel and 
 the Elysian Fields, or the abode of the dead, would be very 
 attractive places to visit and drink the oblivion of pleasant 
 moments and events of the past. The office of Hecate was 
 the punishment of crimes. Diodorus Siculus records her 
 name as signifying horror and terror. Hecate was the 
 daughter of Jupiter and Ceres, who sent her in search of 
 Proserpine after the "Stuporation" by Pluto. Hecate's 
 power was almost unbounded, for it extended over heaven, 
 earth and the seven seas. She granted pre-eminence in vic- 
 tory, sat near to the dispenser of justice, was the invisible 
 mentor and the sailor's genius. She blesses with riches and 
 affluence, and she financially embarrasses. These are some 
 of her divine prerogatives. Pausanius describes her as hav- 
 ing three heads and three bodies with three backs joined 
 together, and six arms, two encephalous, two with ivy, one 
 torch and one with a key. She was the goddess of cross- 
 roads, doors and entrance ways, and also regarded as the 
 goddess of lustrations, and the goddess of night and dark- 
 ness. She is present at the efflux of blood. Her moral 
 character was dual. She was at times pure and tender, and 
 at other times was present to inspire erotic desire, like the 
 Goddess Iris. She inspired illicit love and pusillanimity. 
 
 The Platonists considered Hecate the first of evil genii. 
 She was present during parturition and during intense suf- 
 fering. The ancients characterized her as the "triformi" or 
 "tergemina," the triple goddess, which was Luna in heaven, 
 Diana on earth and Hecate in hell. She was a trinity of 
 divine phantasmagoria, being present at the pleasantries of 
 life and the sorrrows of death ; near mankind in agonies and 
 suffering, evil and good. She would skulk with the dawn 
 and come with the moon, bearing a torch to light it and 
 cloud to eclipse it. She was a huntress through the realms 
 of spirits, and taught Medea the secrets of nature. Dogs 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 175 
 
 were sacred to her, for she was the mysterious goddess of 
 the netherworld and of witchcraft and black arts. Her 
 festivals were held at night and oracles were divinated from 
 the steam issuing beneath her tripod. The ancients could 
 always feel her frightful presence at crossroads and near 
 forests in lonely rural districts. In nearly all respects she 
 was an unpleasant goddess to meditate on and of; but we 
 are to take the good with the bad and the bitter with the 
 sweet, or the world would not need a Themes with her 
 scales of Justice to weigh and dispense the verdict or sen- 
 tence of the court, which is only the power of the people and 
 the voice of God. 
 
 Hebe was the goddess of youth, and according to Homer 
 was the daughter of Jupiter and Juno. She was cup-bearer 
 to Jupiter's Olympian household, until one day she had the 
 misfortune in slipping and falling to a disarrayed position. 
 In this way she by accident discovered her sex. This en- 
 raged Jupiter to the extent that he placed Ganymedes in 
 her office as cup-bearer. After this, she became the wife of 
 Hercules. Hebe is significant of the mild temperature of 
 the air that she deals out to all in the cup of infinitude, 
 and in this realm of the ambrosial feasting of the gods. She 
 served nectarious wines, shaded by the shadow of God in 
 starry, cloudless climes. Hebe awakens to life and beauty 
 the spirit of the wold and the meadow, the trees and the 
 flowers, until they fade ; then she slips and falls. This de- 
 thrones her and she finds her sex or the seed of the plant 
 that must go back to go on, for it had a beginning and what 
 has a beginning must have an end. But in this way there 
 is no end, for the seed perpetuates. Consequently, she was 
 the symbol of the immortality of bliss and eternal youth. 
 As Milton has said, she was ever "quaffing immortality and 
 joy." In statues Hebe is usually represented as tendering 
 ambrosia to the gods, or pouring the wine from an ampulla 
 into a cup to serve the imperial court of heaven. After her 
 
176 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 fall, the youth Ganymedes, who took his place as cup-bearer 
 to the gods, was carried to Mt. Olympus by an eagle. 
 
 ORION 
 
 Orion was the son of Neptune. His exploits as a hunter 
 had become renowned. His stature was of immense size 
 and he possessed marvellous physical strength. On account 
 of his love for the chase he had won the favor of the virgin 
 goddess Diana. In his hunting tours he had cleared the 
 Island of Chios of its wild beasts, and brought their hides 
 as trophies of his prowess and threw them at the feet of 
 Merope, who was a daughter of the reigning king, at same 
 time asking her for her hand in marriage. But the king 
 was reluctant, and would not decide on allowing his daugh- 
 ter to marry him with 'such ease as this, so put him off 
 with different excuses until with decided boldness Orion 
 endeavored to take possession of her and carry her away 
 bodily. But the king discovered his contemplated cunning- 
 ness and offered him beverages that made him intoxicated. 
 When this was accomplished the king destroyed his sight 
 and cast him on the seashore. By an oracle he had been 
 taught the way to seek the morning rays, which was by 
 listening to the Cyclops' hammer (or thunder), by which 
 aid he reached the Island of Lemnos. Here he was taken 
 by Vulcan, who had him guided on his way to the sun. On 
 his way he shouldered his guide, whose name was Cedalion. 
 They shortly met Apollo, and by the rays of the sun's light 
 his eyes were restored to their normal vision. 
 
 His life from now on was spent as before his affliction, 
 in the rocky cliffs and the happy hunting grounds. Apollo 
 was suspicious of his sister, the pure Diana, of caring for 
 Orion, and he kept a close watch over her. He often re- 
 proached her for her apparent devotion to him, but to no 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 177 
 
 purpose. Apollo was wondering how he could dispose of 
 this Orion to save his sister, and as he was thinking he saw 
 an object in the sea that proved to be Orion himself. Apollo 
 could discern it to be the head of Orion, but Diana's eyes 
 evidently were not as keen as her brother Apollo's, for 
 Apollo said to her, "Shoot at the object you see yonder, 
 to show how well you aim." At this Diana drew her bow 
 and the arrow pierced Orion's head. The rolling waves 
 brought the body to shore. Diana wept over his cold, wet 
 form, and to make restitution she placed him among the 
 stars, where he is caparisoned in his girdle, sword, lion's- 
 skin and club. He still is as he was on earth — always after 
 the beautiful women. The Pleiads can be seen fleeing from 
 his chase, Sirius, his dog, running on behind. He loves the 
 chase in heaven as he did on earth, for he wanders forth 
 across the great expanse of the inverted bowl of heaven 
 every night. His tours are all by night, for at dawn he 
 seeks Neptune, his father, near the sea. In the late spring 
 he is near Aurora, who is fond of him. This causes the 
 jealousy of Diana, who once more fires her arrow at him 
 and he falls from sight below the horizon. 
 
 THE STATUE OF LAOCOON, THE TROJAN 
 
 PRIEST 
 
 The beautiful statue of Laocoon, who is trying to extri- 
 cate himself and his sons from the malignant, winding clasp 
 of the boa constrictors, is really symbolic of the Pagans 
 trying to tear themselves loose from the old religion, or 
 might it not be an empirical setting to represent the new 
 religion in the form of that reptile that has enwrapped the 
 father and his posterity in a secure embrace? Perhaps 
 all of his exertions, each one of them mean and represent 
 such instruments of deliverance as the philosophies of 
 
178 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 the new platonists, Aristotle and Socrates, which were used 
 as an antithesis by Julian, the apostate. Still with all the 
 philosophy, the monster reptile, which is a blessing in dis- 
 guise, holds them, yet does them no harm, but on the con- 
 trary in time conquers, controls and tames them. 
 
 Philosophy and theology are so closely woven into each 
 other that it is impossible to step out of the province of 
 one without stepping into the domain of the other. We 
 must agree that Spencer's "First Principles" or Kant's 
 "Critique of Pure Reasoning" have framed the subject of 
 creation with words that set forth a "Gordian Knot" that 
 cannot be untied — it must be cut from you or taken whole, 
 although their apriori reasoning is built with such logical 
 timber and framed in such magniloquent synthesis it in- 
 vites specious casuistry and still leaves the mind in chaos 
 and bewilderment. 
 
 It is reasonable to believe that man has never known or 
 he is never to know the true status of things as they now 
 are, and as they were in Ragnarok ages of the fire and gravel 
 period of creation. The "Onus probendi" is upon us, and 
 will always remain so. It isn't best that we should know, or 
 God would have revealed enough for us so that the objective 
 mind could determine with ease the true essence of im- 
 mortality, that has made all things in nature physical and 
 metaphysical, and to know that He exists apart from the 
 things made by Him. The Greeks believed they saw gods 
 in and of nature itself. They could see Apollo in his gold- 
 wheeled chariot fleeting in majestic grandeur across the 
 starry, cobblestoned causeway of heaven, firing his golden 
 shaft of light from his unerring silver bow at the earth. 
 This was beautiful and impressive, and substance for poetic, 
 imaginary minds, and was of consummate potenc\ for 
 nature-loving men of those days to inspire their imaginary 
 faculties with poems expressing the beauty and grandeur 
 of physical and metaphysical entities. "Omnia vincit 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 179 
 
 amor" — Love conquers all things; but "Sic transit gloria 
 mundi" — Earthly glories pass away, especially the truth of 
 those glories that were built upon reeds instead of rock. 
 "Veritus prevalebit" — Truth conquers all things, which it 
 proved to do when truth was born to the earth in the flesh 
 and blood of Jesus Christ. 
 
 HYACINTHUS 
 
 Still the daily trips are made, 
 
 Sol's chariot passes o'er, 
 Pursuing Daphne's dawning shade, 
 
 To infinitude explore. 
 These Steeds of Light, they never fail, 
 
 They keep the earth alive, 
 They follow on their same old trail, 
 
 Tho Apollo does not drive. 
 
 Apollo, the Sun God, became very fond of Hyacinthus, 
 who was a promising youth. He was physically handsome 
 and intellectually beautiful, morally perfect and overwhelm- 
 ingly attractive — especially so to Apollo. This alone should 
 have made him proud to have a powerful and moral god, 
 as Apollo was, favor him above others. Hyacinthus was 
 fond of all classes of sport — fishing, hunting and all man- 
 ner of games. Apollo would accompany him in his fishing 
 and hunting exploits, and Hyacinthus would always look 
 up to Apollo as a son would to his father. One day, as 
 Apollo and Hyacinthus were out in the garth throwing 
 quoits, which are large iron discs something the shape of 
 a horseshoe, Apollo flung one at the stake to make a 
 "ringer," but with so much force that it went beyond the 
 mark. Hyacinthus was so enthused with the game that he 
 ran up to see how near the mark the quoit or discus was 
 
180 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 about to alight, and at this moment Zephyrs, who had been 
 jealous of the amount of affection Hyacinthus was receiving 
 from Apollo, caused the discus to swerve and strike the boy. 
 The impact was so terrible that Hyacinthus fell to the 
 ground mortally wounded. 
 
 Apollo had healing powers as we know, but after ex- 
 hausting every means known to him in the medical art, 
 it appeared that the youth must die. Apollo was so over- 
 come with grief at what had occurred that he raised the 
 boy's head and shoulders and supported him in this posi- 
 tion, trying to converse with him and speak a last loving 
 word to his dear friend. But the youth was limp, his 
 strength had left him. He was as a lily when the stem is 
 broken. It hangs its drooping head and the life fluid 
 courses down the broken stem, as the blood coursed down 
 Hyacinthus' neck and body and there saturated the soil 
 near where he lay. Apollo informed Hyacinthus tenderly, 
 or at least endeavored to inform him, that he would rather 
 the accident had been himself. He cried, "I have robbed 
 you of your youth. Speak to me ! Speak one last word to 
 me !" No words could be heard, no sound was forthcoming 
 from those sweet young lips. Still Apollo continued his 
 lamentations. "Hyacinthus, Hyacinthus, if you must die — 
 if I cannot have you in life — my lyre shall mourn for your 
 grace. Its vibrations shall herald your tenderness. My 
 song shall disseminate your untimely death and you shall 
 still live. You shall still be tender and beautiful, for I will 
 grow from your spilt blood a flower that shall perpetuate 
 my love and my regret for your untimely death, and it shall 
 be called 'Hyacinth.' " This flower sprang up at once from 
 the blood that had run from the wound onto the earth. 
 Apollo, to further mark the remembrance of his young 
 friend, inscribed by means of his arrow the letters "ai ai." 
 These beautiful flowers spring forth every year, marked in 
 the above manner, to perpetuate the youth Hyacinthus, and 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 181 
 
 the love Apollo had for him. The "ai" that is on the hya- 
 cinth is the Greek character to signify woe and regret. The 
 meaning of the word "Hyacinthus" is supposed to be youth. 
 Hyacinthus was to personify vegetation when it is young 
 and tender. The quoits that struck him have been inter- 
 preted to signify the withering heat of the sun's rays in the 
 late summer. It also signifies the uncertainty of life, the 
 surety of death and the hope of immortality. See Milton's 
 "Lycidas," or Keat's "Endymion," or Oscar Wilde's works. 
 
 PERSEUS AND MEDUSA 
 
 Medusa was a ravenous monster that the people were 
 praying to have driven from their midst. There was no 
 one to venture this hazardous undertaking until Perseus 
 arrived upon the scene. Medusa had been, at one time, a 
 beautiful, blushing maid, until she was transformed by 
 Minerva. Her beautiful tresses were changed into hissing 
 serpents and every one of her heretofore prepossessing fea- 
 tures were made so hideous and repulsive that whoever be- 
 held her was at once turned into stone. She dwelt in a cave 
 or cavern, where all about could be seen the petrified 
 images of men and animals of every description that had 
 had the misfortune to behold her. 
 
 Perseus, undaunted at her reputation, with the promised 
 aid of Minerva and Mercury, started out on this mission of 
 killing the Gorgon in the cave or the abode of the Three 
 Gracae, who had but one eye between them. First of all, 
 Perseus obscured this eye, then he obtained the Helmet of 
 Hades that causes the one who dons it to become invisible ; 
 he also obtained the winged shoes and pouch, and when he 
 had accomplished this Mercury gave him his sword and 
 Minerva her shield. Thus safely armed he went forward 
 amid these sisters and decapitated the head of Medusa and 
 
182 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 from her horrible body sprang the winged horse, Pegasus, 
 that was so masterly ridden and tamed by Bellerophon. 
 Perseus grasped the head of Medusa and flew westward to 
 the region of the Hesperides, where Atlas held forth. Atlas 
 was of wonderful stature, and was surrounded by the Gar- 
 den of the Hesperides, which was full of golden fruit. Per- 
 seus asked Atlas to receive him as a guest and furnish him 
 with food and lodgings. .But Atlas, thru a past warning, 
 was skeptical about entertaining his new suppliant guest 
 and refused. Perseus then pressed him by main force to 
 receive him, and even then he refused until they embraced 
 in actual combat. During the fracas Perseus held the head 
 of the Gorgon so that Atlas was compelled to look into its 
 repulsive face, which metamorphosed him into what is now 
 the Atlas mountains in northwestern Africa, which was 
 thought to hold the vaulted dome of the blue heavens upon 
 its apex. 
 
 The next adventure for this hero was in the country of 
 the Ethiopians. Cepheus was then their king and Casseopea 
 their queen. There had been for many days a sea monster 
 ravaging their coast until it was assuming such prodigious 
 proportions that it had become unbearable to the people. 
 The king was informed thru an oracle that he must sacrifice 
 his daughter, Andromeda, to the unsatiable desire of this 
 monster. The king had forthwith chained his daughter to 
 a rock on the coast nearby and Perseus could see the mon- 
 ster approaching to consume this beautiful princess. Perseus 
 flew at once to her rescue, altho there had been a previous 
 understanding with the king that he would claim her as his 
 gurgeon for the danger and trouble he would encounter, to 
 which they gave their approval. Perseus readily performed 
 this noble act and won the hand of Andromeda. To fully 
 compensate Perseus for saving their daughter and ridding 
 the country of this monster, they led him to the palace, 
 where they wined and dined him in a way commensurate 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 183 
 
 with his chivalrous merit. But during the festivities a great 
 noise was heard outside the palace. This proved to be her 
 former lover, Phineus, who had come to demand her as his 
 own. The king remonstrated, saying that he had proven 
 himself unworthy of her and that he was ungallant and 
 that he could not have cared for her or he would not have 
 waited for a stranger to save her life. At this, Phineus 
 became so enraged that he broke up the festivities with 
 violence. Perseus took advantage of this turmoil and 
 clasped his loved one in his powerful arms and flew to 
 Seriphus. At this place Perseus returned the helmet and 
 sword and winged shoes to their owners. He gave the 
 pouch which held the head of the Gorgon to Minerva, who 
 was also called Athena. The latter afterwards bore the 
 head of Medusa on her aegis or shield. 
 
 PYRAMUS AND THISBE, OR THE ROMEO 
 AND JULIET OF ANCIENT MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Pyramus and Thisbe were two of the most beautiful 
 beings in the land. They were said to have lived in 
 Babylon in the time of Semiramis, the queen whose mother 
 was transformed into a fish. These two youths became 
 very fond of each other, altho their parents were the worst 
 of enemies. They sought each other's company and had a 
 trysting place where they met to talk over their future 
 and to tell how fond they were of each other. The trysting 
 place they had was not a desirable one, for their parents 
 discovered their cunningness and the father of Pyramus 
 locked him in a room in his home and had his meals served 
 to him, while the mother of Thisbe did the same by her. 
 However, it happened to be that the house the families 
 lived in was a double dwelling, and the two rooms were in 
 close juxtaposition, and by this propinquity they soon dis- 
 
184 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 covered that after all it was only a wall that separated 
 them. They finally used a code of raps to convey their 
 tender expressions of love, until Pyramus cut a small hole by 
 means of his pocket knife thru a crevice in the woodwork, 
 so after he had accomplished this they could whisper to 
 each other and could kiss, or at least could touch each 
 other's tongues thru this small orifice. Pyramus had be- 
 come so expert with his knife he in some way opened some 
 part of the wall where he could get Thisbe in where he 
 was, and where they then could crawl out of a window and 
 down on the ground. Without her he did not want to go 
 out of the room. He was apparently locked in from her so 
 his father did not think or care for the unlocked window. 
 
 After he had gotten her in the room he arranged that 
 the same evening, when the stars shown their brightest and 
 the air was cool and the world was all quiet about them, 
 he told her that she must go first to a certain valley near, 
 by the tomb of Ninus, a former King of Babylon. Near 
 this tomb was a spring of bubbling water, and beautiful 
 yew trees with pendant branches waving to and fro, whis- 
 pering love songs and almost beckoning them to come and 
 sit beneath their welcome branches. Thisbe did as di- 
 rected. She arrived at the tomb, and it was so quiet about, 
 and the great black tomb silhouetted against the moonlit 
 distance and her knowing it contained a corpse, made chills 
 run up and down her back. But what won't the human 
 family do for love's sake! 
 
 While she sat there waiting for her Pyramus to come a 
 great lioness came toward her. The animal was licking 
 her chops as tho she had just devoured someone. It was 
 apparent that the lioness was going to the spring near by 
 to procure a drink of water. She became so frightened she 
 ran from the tomb, and in doing so dropped her veil. The 
 lioness, hearing her run, ran after her, but when the lioness 
 had come to the veil, she picked it up and tore it to shreds 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 185 
 
 and stained it with blood, blood that was from the flesh of 
 some animal she had just devoured before coming for a 
 draught of water at the spring. 
 
 By this time Pyramus had reached this trysting place. 
 He looked for his sweetheart, but she was not to be seen. 
 Finally his eyes fell upon the torn veil that he knew was 
 Thisbe's. He also saw the footprints of the lioness and 
 could hear her roaring in the distance. That, with the 
 blood on the garment, satisfied him that his loved one, his 
 life, his all, was gone. What could life mean to him now! 
 He cried, "O, but why did I not stay in the room where 
 I was and keep my Thisbe there with me! O, if father 
 could only have discovered my cupidity ! It is my fault ! It 
 is my fault ! I have been her executioner, and I will die, too, 
 and follow her, and perhaps be with her in heaven. This 
 consoled him somewhat, and deciding he would end his life 
 right there and then he drew his sword and placed it to his 
 heart and fell upon it. The blood spurted from the self- 
 inflicted wound, and there he lay in the throes of death. 
 One of the trees that stood near by happened to be a white 
 mulberry tree, and his blood spattered upon its leaves and 
 some of the crimson drops ran down to its roots. From 
 this time on there have been red mulberries, colored by the 
 blood of this broken-hearted youth. 
 
 Soon Thisbe somewhat overcame her frightened condi- 
 tion, and with trembling form strolled cautiously up to the 
 tomb so as not to disappoint her lover, for she did not want 
 to disappoint him alone, but she desired so much to see 
 him she so dearly loved. On her arrival here she spied 
 something on the ground and could hear a moaning sound 
 that issued from that direction. Approaching, she saw it 
 was her dear Pyramus. She thought at first the lioness had 
 killed him, but on examining more closely she could see 
 he had killed himself. And she knew why he had done this 
 because she saw clenched in his left hand the torn veil. She 
 
186 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 raised him upon her beautiful thigh and tenderly stroked 
 back his curly locks. 
 
 "Speak to me ! Speak to me ! Why did you do it, Pyra- 
 mus ; why did you do it ?" she cried ; and as she cried her 
 tears ran into the wound. This she desired, for she won- 
 dered if they would not heal the wound and bring him 
 back to life and to her. She kneeled over his reclining form 
 and kissed his moribund lips. 
 
 "Dear boy, dear heart, it is my fault. I am the profligate. 
 I have killed you. O, why did we not stay under our fath- 
 ers' roofs? Why did they not discover us in time to save 
 us? I love you, Pyramus, I love you! If I cannot live 
 with you I will not live without you. Speak to me ! Speak 
 just one word ! Tell me those sweet words once more, the 
 sweetest words of all ! Tell me that you love me ! Tell 
 me!" 
 
 Faintly he murmured, "Thisbe, I love you. Thisbe, dear, 
 I love you." These were his last words. He fell from her 
 grasp to the ground — dead. 
 
 "O, my love, you have taken your own life and for me! 
 The veil proves it all ! O, why did I not take the veil with 
 me? My only hope is to follow you, Pyramus, and follow 
 you I will ! We will be reunited ! Our good-byes will be 
 short good-byes ! Ah, parents, why were you so cruel ! 
 You must suffer, too, you cannot keep love apart any more 
 than you can crush truth ! You tried to divide us, but 
 heaven will unite us and one tomb shall contain us, and 
 may this tree ever serve as a bleeding memory of two loving 
 hearts that bled." 
 
 She tenderly arranged his body so that she could impale 
 herself upon the same blade that had taken his life, that 
 this instrument of death might serve to couple them in a 
 last and eternal embrace that knows no parting. She fell 
 upon the sword and laughed at death. O, love, what power 
 thou hast ! Truly, Love knoweth no fear. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 187 
 
 MOUNT OLYMPUS 
 
 If the reader will excuse me for using the first person, 
 "I," I will, with great pleasure proceed to tell you of my 
 visit to Mount Olympus, the throne and seat of the Greek 
 Gods. This mountain peak, if I may call it such, is only 
 one of the many peaks of the Parnassus range. It was 
 the throne of Zeus, the Roman Jupiter or Jove, the God of 
 Gods. It is true that the gktes of this metaphysical heaven 
 were kept guarded by the Hours and Seasons, to permit the 
 sorta and ontra of the celestials passing back and forth 
 from heaven to earth, for the Gods had other habitations, 
 but were often called on to attend court with Jupiter. And 
 it was here, in this natural palace, he received them. 
 
 There are only certain seasons of the year that the clouds 
 are away, and do not keep guard over the celestial gates of 
 this Greek heaven ; but the time that I ascended this moun- 
 tain the air was lucid and pure, and one would feel that 
 they were inhaling the breath of ancient mythical gods, the 
 celestial food of classic days. The rocks seem to know you 
 and welcome you; serene quietude embraces you with a 
 homogeneous mass of purified sweetness or godly ego, 
 joined and interjoined together by transparent pinions of 
 long-expressed desires, prayers and hopes, that have trans- 
 cended to a promised goal, and here on its way this nothing- 
 ness emits a deafening sound of hypnotic stillness that 
 seems to raise you out and away. With little exertion you 
 survey the home of the ancient gods. Not a zephyr dis- 
 turbs your wakeful dreams. Souls of millions try to convey 
 some secret to you. It deafens you, still there isn't even 
 the sound of a falling atom. Names are inscribed on these 
 placid beds of sand that were inscribed by men as far back 
 as Socrates, Sophocles, Homer and Heasiod. The names 
 have never been obliterated by winds or the waters. Here 
 the mind can see, hear and think undisturbed by worldly 
 
i88 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 din. A place to rest and contemplate, a place the flesh can 
 invade and visit, and an earthly heaven where the soul lives 
 and knows its own being. 
 
 LUCRETIA COLLATINUS 
 
 Roman anthology is not interlaid with gems of resplen- 
 dence like that of the Greek, tho their literature abounds 
 with a superabundance of satire, myth and apologue. 
 Naevius, Ennius, Livius Andronicus and Plautus were sev- 
 eral of Rome's greatest poets and writers in and about the 
 time of the first and second Punic wars, as Niebuhr records 
 the period of their nativity, which is undoubtedly correct. 
 The legendary history of Rome is fraught with myriads of 
 deflagrating stories that have been a Thesaurus of poetical 
 substance for all phases of erudite dilettantes and inspired 
 writers. Macaulay has taken advantage of many of these 
 stories and has put them into verse as "The Lays of Ancient 
 Rome," which are both beautiful and instructive. From 
 among many of these legendary stories I have selected 
 "Lucretia Collatinus" as my subject for the following poem. 
 
 During the reign of Tarquin, the Proud, in the year of 
 the City 350, several of the Roman noblemen having noth- 
 ing better to do to occupy and entertain their slothful minds 
 and bodies, conceived the idea of fathoming the domestic 
 and moral rectitude of their respective wives. Their mode 
 of procedure was to mount their horses and go to their 
 homes at a given hour of the evening to ascertain their 
 exact attitude and decorum in their husband's absence. 
 This suggestion was acted upon, with the result they found 
 all of the ladies banqueting, dancing and enjoying life in as 
 light and frivolous a manner as might be expected in that 
 age of emotion and lasciviousness. All the ladies but one 
 were indulging in riotous manner, and this one was Lu- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 189 
 
 cretia. She was engaged in her domestic duties of spinning 
 at the loom. She was universally accepted as the most 
 beautiful woman, both physically and mentally, in Rome. 
 She was endowed with just enough vivacity to heighten the 
 brilliancy of her charming personality. She was gifted with 
 conversational eloquence that was interlarded with im- 
 promptu and unqualified coruscating wit, that always 
 brought forth applause from her auditors. She was well 
 educated for the times, and was an omnivorous reader and 
 wrote some verse. She was thoroly domesticated ; she loved 
 her parents, her family and her husband ; she lived with her 
 husband and for her husband. In a word, Lucretia was a 
 pure, noble and beautiful woman. 
 
 The ladies' husbands who had come in upon their wives 
 by surprise gave the prize to Lucretia for being the one 
 whom they now considered the most deserving of a prize for 
 domestic merit and chastity. The men remained the bal- 
 ance of the evening and enjoyed the festivities with them 
 until a late hour. Then each and all of them mounted their 
 steeds and rode back to the city, some staying at the im- 
 perial palace and some at the army headquarters; being 
 public-spirited men necessitated their remaining away from 
 their homes and wives many of their evenings. After they 
 had all arrived at their several abodes, one of their number 
 whose name was Sextus, a son of Tarquin, the king, re- 
 turned quickly to the home of Lucretia. He went to her 
 door under the cover of night and made himself known at 
 once; that she should not cause any outcry to alarm or 
 arouse the slaves or the rest of the household, at the same 
 time made some apparently plausible excuse for his return- 
 ing to her home at that late hour of the night. With hos- 
 pitality that was always characteristic of her, she invited 
 him in and offered him both asylum and a night's refuge in 
 her home. The virtue she had manifested in the early eve- 
 ning, together with her physical beauty and magnetic charm, 
 
igo MYTHOLOGY 
 
 had so affected his libidinous nature that it is obvious 
 that he could not muster up and enforce sufficient manly 
 courage to throw off the lecherous instinct that he 
 evidently had allowed to overcome him. After he had 
 gained access to her home, he at once went on to explain 
 the friendship that had existed for many years between her 
 husband and himself, and also went on to recount adven- 
 tures both in war and in peace they had encountered to- 
 gether. Finally in a circuitous manner he drifted his topics 
 of conversation on to sentimental myths and romances, oc- 
 casionally citing her with blandishments and eulogies as 
 bearing an exact counterpart of some heroine he had just 
 pictured to her, at the same time, during his didactic re- 
 hearsals, he would gradually work his seat closer and closer 
 to her, finally coming into such close propinquity that he 
 could not restrain his puissant desire to embrace her. 
 
 Impelled by her innocence, beauty, virtue, humility and 
 magnetism, reinforced by the late hour of the night and the 
 sequestered environment so conducive to lascivious tem- 
 perament, he abruptly approached and caressed her, at the 
 same time tenderly informing her that he loved her, and 
 that she was the sweetest woman the light of heaven 
 ever shown on, and that her life was a living song, and her 
 voice was sweeter than music ; her body was a perfect verse, 
 its grace was its rhythmic meter, written on a golden human 
 book of divine essence. He fell on his knees before her. 
 He placed his arms in suppliant attitude toward her, at the 
 same time shedding tears and begging her to trust him, to 
 believe in him and to love him. 
 
 "My life and my fortune are yours," he repeated. "You 
 are the tune to my song, the light of my day, the breath of 
 my life, the wine of my cup and the heaven of my dreams, 
 both here and hereafter. So come, be my love. I cherish 
 your virtue ; I honor your chastity ; it's a gem I crave. 
 Heaven has made and kept guard over it for me. If I can 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 191 
 
 possess it, sweetest memories shall ever abide in reminis- 
 cences of past pleasures and in knowing I possess the rarest 
 gem in woman's virtue of the age." 
 
 After Sextus had made this declaration, he arose from 
 his knees, while Lucretia had risen from her chair in terror. 
 He was flushed and refulgent with passion ; she was senemic 
 with fear. He waited in breathless expectancy; she studied 
 in graceful retreat. "Speak to me! Speak, Lucretia! 
 Speak!" he said. 
 
 "You shock me! You frighten me! Is this what you 
 have come for?" She was about to reproach him severely, 
 but caution, she thought, would be the better part of valor, 
 so she calmed herself and tried to reason with him, for she 
 knew very well it would not do to arouse his anger, which 
 she knew would take the place of his animal affection, 
 which would be as powerfully expressed both in words and 
 in actions as his overtures of love were expressed in search- 
 ing desire. "Now, Sextus, your fancy is a fleeting one. You 
 have said enough for tonight, and I can see by your adula- 
 tions that you are of an affectionate nature and must not be 
 censured. Just wait and go to your couch and rest and see 
 what time will bring forth. See if you continue to care for 
 me in this way when the sun rises. When you arise in the 
 morning I will see that your breakfast is served, and then 
 you will be rested and the sun's rays of the morning will 
 drive away all of the disquieting passions that come with 
 the night shades." 
 
 Lucretia was politic. She said all of this to get thru the 
 night unharmed, which had its desired effect temporarily, 
 for Sextus at this picked up her hand and kissed it, saying, 
 "Then you will some time, won't you, Lucretia? You will 
 not refuse? You will promise me? At least promise, and 
 not long will I need wait, will I ?" as he held her hand, look- 
 ing into her eyes. 
 
 "In the morning, Sextus; let me sleep over it and think. 
 It is all new to me and I must think," she answered. 
 
192 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 "But you will think favorably, won't you, Lucretia?" At 
 this she purposely gave a slight assenting bow as he kissed 
 her hand fervently and bid her good-night and went to his 
 bed chamber. Lucretia was greatly relieved, at least for 
 the present. She proceeded to her boudoir and disrobed 
 and lay down, praying for the night to hurry past. She had 
 no more than arranged herself snugly in her couch, than 
 Sextus pressed the door leading into her room open and 
 rushed up to the side of her couch in dishabille. She at 
 once remonstrated. She now could see that euphemistic 
 expressions were useless and that she would have to resort 
 to harsh means. This she did. "Sextus, I am really sur- 
 prised that a son of a Tarquin has reached this stage of 
 moral depravity. I was sure the noble blood in you would 
 assert itself, but you are devoid of chivalry, moral ethics 
 and polite learning. Now, go from me or I will summon 
 my slaves/' 
 
 At this he loses all control of himself, grieved at her re- 
 proach, together with his animal lust. He drew a dagger he 
 had ensconced under his garments and held it over her. 
 "You will submit and at once," he said. "Tender words of 
 expression have failed to elicit your consent. I am des- 
 perate. You will either consent, without delay, and with- 
 out inimical or insuperable hostility, or I will kill you and 
 also kill one of your slaves, and lay him at your side after I 
 have ensanguined the counterpain with his blood." 
 
 At this he forcibly pulled the delicate lace coverings from 
 her couch. "The dead slave will be the opprobrium of your 
 conduct and disgrace," he continued as he started away 
 to execute his ignoble deed. "No, no, you won't need to do 
 that. Don't make it worse than it is. I will submit, I will 
 submit." And submit she did to this varlet's base desires, 
 tho under duress and the pressure of threatened calamity. 
 After Sextus had ravished this sweet and pure woman he 
 mounted his horse and rode to the city. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 193 
 
 Poor Lucretia felt her life was ruined. She made up her 
 mind she would confess her forced unfaithfulness and dis- 
 loyalty to her husband. She not only summoned Collatinus, 
 her husband, but Lucretius, her father, and Brutus. After 
 she had dramatically confessed the tragic night she had 
 experienced, with tears flowing down her cheeks, she drew 
 a knife and thrust it into her heart. She fell on a nearby 
 couch, dead, a bleeding sacrifice immolated upon the altar 
 of lust for the expiation of Rome and the dethronement of 
 the Tarquins. 
 
 Brutus, who until now had feigned insanity, together 
 with the more noble offspring of royal blood, took her body 
 to the Forum, where they laid it in state as a dumb witness, 
 testifying to plebeians and patricians, and to all Roman 
 citizens, the ignoble perversity and reprehensible depravity 
 of the reigning nobility. Brutus waved the bloody dagger 
 and adjured the Roman people to rise against the tyrant 
 and his family. This they did, and after a short time the 
 king with his confreres and retinue were deposed, and to 
 escape flew into voluntary exile in Etruria as their only 
 refuge from complete extermination and death. Again the 
 "Infernal City" was washed of some of its impurities by the 
 blood of a pure woman.* 
 
 LUCRETIA COLLATINUS 
 
 Time it was critical, 
 
 Refuge was none; 
 It was so pitiful, 
 
 How she was won. 
 
 Cursed by her beauty, 
 
 Her virtue a curse ; 
 In doing her duty, 
 
 This made it worse. 
 
 *See Shakespeare's "Rape of Lucretia." 
 
194 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Born in affluence, 
 
 Nobly bred ; 
 In domestic pursuance, 
 
 She all others led. 
 
 Purity her pleasure ; 
 
 Beauty of face, 
 That made her a treasure, 
 
 A treasure of grace. 
 
 Her virtue was tested, 
 In winning the prize; 
 
 Chastity invested 
 
 Was torn from her eyes. 
 
 Her home was invaded ; 
 
 Sanctity of home, 
 Was raped and was raided, 
 
 By a prince of old Rome. 
 
 First was persuasion, 
 Then tears to impel ; 
 
 Last redoubts invasion, 
 Where many have fell. 
 
 He told of adventures, 
 In life he had had; 
 
 Of trials and of censures, 
 Tho not of the bad. 
 
 He told his affection, 
 Affection for her; 
 
 He expressed some dejection 
 That she should defer. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 195 
 
 "Your music and singing, 
 
 Poetry and song, 
 Have touched me in ringing, 
 
 My heart as a gong. 
 
 "You're a flower in December, 
 
 A snowball in June; 
 One forgets to remember, 
 
 Sorrow and gloom. 
 
 "Rare and refulgent, 
 
 In volatile glows ; 
 Reluctant, indulgent, 
 
 You keep, you enclose. 
 
 "I've told you I love you, 
 
 My tears can't you see! 
 By heaven above you, 
 
 Swear you love me ! 
 
 "A morsel we crush it, 
 
 Because it is good; 
 Your body I lush it, 
 
 Because it is food." 
 
 Lucretia in danger, 
 
 What could she do? 
 He wasn't a stranger, 
 
 Tho worse than if two. 
 
 She began to reproach him, 
 
 She saw her mistake; 
 She tenderly coaxed him 
 
 To manhood awake. 
 
196 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 "Let sleep refresh you, 
 This incubus fight, 
 
 Daylight will bless you, 
 'Twill pass with the night. 
 
 "For shades of the nightfall 
 That shadow the brain, 
 
 Are tiresome, frightful, 
 With passionate pain. 
 
 "If your love is fleeting, 
 'Twill go with the night; 
 
 If the kind's that repeating, 
 'Twill remain with the light. 
 
 "So wait until dawning, 
 If true what you say, 
 
 Grows pure with the morning, 
 And purer with day." 
 
 He raised her hand tender, 
 
 To gently kiss, 
 "Later you'll render 
 
 To me you'll do this." 
 
 Silence gave answer, 
 A half-wailing bow 
 
 That gnawed like a cancer, 
 When compelled to allow. 
 
 Her gestures consentment 
 In postponing grief, 
 
 For a villain's contentment, 
 From chastity's thief. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 197 
 
 He went to his chamber, 
 
 And she unto hers, 
 Tho neither to slumber, 
 
 For passion deters. 
 
 He into wakening 
 
 In thoughts what to do, 
 She into making, 
 
 Placating in lieu. 
 
 She prayed to Minerva, 
 
 And Diana appealed; 
 She plead them to serve her, 
 
 This night as a shield. 
 
 Of virtue these patrons, 
 
 To Juno implore, 
 To guard troubled matrons 
 
 That purity adore. 
 
 She failed to awaken 
 
 The heavenly great, 
 By all was forsaken, 
 
 And left to her fate. 
 
 As she lay in forced sleeping, 
 
 Sextus walked in, 
 To her couch he came creeping, 
 
 Here her ending began. 
 
 He pressed on her forehead 
 
 An obtrusive kiss; 
 "How wicked — how horrid I' 1 
 
 She said, "To do this/ 1 
 
198 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 With frenzy he clutched her, 
 And fell on her breast ; 
 
 And said as he touched her, 
 "Fve come in to rest." 
 
 "I can't sleep without you, 
 
 With you who could! 
 With arms all about you, 
 
 Real sleeping, who would?" 
 
 Thought she of screaming, 
 
 While in his embrace, 
 With anger a-teaming, 
 
 "O what a disgrace !" 
 
 With strength she resisted, 
 Tho weak was her strength, 
 
 All power she enlisted; 
 She fought him at length. 
 
 Nor was he defeated, 
 
 "From my grasp tho you strive, 
 I will have," he repeated, 
 
 "You dead or alive." 
 
 "Choose what I offer," 
 As he drew forth a knife, 
 
 "This bed as your coffer, 
 Or tonight be my wife ! 
 
 "Your servant I will slay, 
 With this knife; when you've died, 
 
 By your side he will lay, 
 As proof to abide. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 199 
 
 "Like fire it will go, 
 
 Your evil behavior, 
 The whole world will know, 
 
 I'm your ruin or your savior." 
 
 He raised to proceed, 
 
 Door open he tried, 
 To commit this foul deed, 
 
 As to him she cried — 
 
 "If my body is worth 
 
 The price you're to pay, 
 Life, Rome and the earth, 
 
 Then proceed, here I lay." 
 
 "When you are through, 
 
 What will you gain, 
 Except ruin two, 
 
 You might better slain! 
 
 "Oft hidden in sin, 
 
 As sorrow in mirth, 
 Revolution will begin, 
 
 That this night will give birth. 
 
 "Your beginning their end, 
 
 The Tarquins will fall; 
 The way you will wend, 
 
 You'll go with them all! 
 
 "I'm here in your power, 
 
 So lust may it be ; 
 One ruined in an hour, 
 
 And a million set free. 
 
200 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 "Wrong has been righted, 
 Right has been wronged, 
 
 Let burn what I've lighted, 
 My virtue thus thonged !" 
 
 Purity was ravished, 
 
 Tho from it she shrank; 
 
 Words might be lavished, 
 But I'll leave it a blank. 
 
 Forced wishes now granted, 
 He bid her farewell; 
 
 He left and she fainted, 
 The reason why tell? 
 
 The gray mist of morning, 
 That heralds the day, 
 
 It ushered forlorning, 
 In the sun's golden ray. 
 
 For it set her to thinking, 
 Of the few hours past, 
 
 The sun in its sinking — 
 She was pure in its last ! 
 
 And now on its raising, 
 She covered her eyes, 
 
 From its pure beams a-blazing, 
 Out of the skies. 
 
 Still it inspired her, 
 
 To partly aright, 
 The wrong that had mired her, 
 
 As the sun made it bright. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 201 
 
 She her husband enlightened, 
 
 Of all she confessed, 
 How her life had been blightened, 
 
 By the things she was blessed. 
 
 Her virtue and beauty, 
 
 And decorum so terse, 
 With domestic duty, 
 
 Had proven her curse. 
 
 With dramatic precision, 
 
 She pictured in part, 
 For her husband's decision — 
 
 Then thrust in her heart. 
 
 The dagger that ended 
 
 Her grief and her fear, 
 That virtue had blended 
 
 Together so dear. 
 
 Her love was lamented, 
 
 Abroad and at home, 
 Crushed virtue tormented, 
 
 A republic of Rome. 
 
 Chastity made handsome, 
 
 To fight against odds; 
 Lucretia the ransom, 
 
 For Rome and the Gods! 
 
202 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 ACTEON'S AGGRESSIVENESS 
 
 Far out in Paradise Valley, where fountains gush forth 
 their crystal sprays, and falling mists dampen the cypress 
 vine and wild olives, bounded on all sides by rocky cover 
 and waving grape vines, mantling the forest green; with 
 birds singing, squirrels chirping and rabbits bounding here 
 and there; Diana wandered one sunny day to bathe in the 
 Bridal Veil Falls that ran over the edge of an enormous 
 rock. She was accompanied, as usual, by her beautiful 
 nymphs. On arriving at the falls she commenced to dis- 
 robe. Her nymphs with gracious mien condescended to aid 
 her. Several held her garments while she was in dishabille, 
 while another untied and removed her sandals. 
 
 After she had disrobed, the nymphs filled large earthern 
 bowls and set them aside for Diana. She at once proceeded 
 to bathe her pure virgin flesh. Acteon, who had been hunt- 
 ing, could see something unusual going on in the distance. 
 This stimulated a desire in him to approach nearer and get 
 a better view that he might determine the exact meaning 
 of the disturbance of the foliage he saw in the distance. On 
 coming nearer he descried the white shoulders and arms of 
 Diana. This only increased his curious desire to scrutinize 
 further and determine who this beautiful woman might be. 
 He crept on and on in a furtive, sneaking attitude until he 
 recognized the features as those of the Goddess Diana. He 
 continued nearer and nearer until he sprang right up at 
 the water's brink. 
 
 The nymphs screamed with fright, and with preternatural 
 mobility grasped Diana's garments and endeavored to cover 
 her naked form. The fright the goddess and nymphs had 
 undergone made them blush. Their cheeks became flushed, 
 their eyes sparkled and their disheveled hair fell over their 
 white shoulders and breasts. This only added to their 
 beauty and stimulated a desire in Acteon to step even closer 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 203 
 
 and reach out to embrace the one that attracted him the 
 most, who was Diana. With an impromptu impetus, Diana 
 reached for her bow and arrows, but they were not at hand, 
 so the next best thing that she had recourse to was the 
 water she was bathing in. She grasped the bowl and 
 dashed its contents into his face and eyes, obscuring his 
 vision. Then with angry reproach, Diana cried, "Go, you 
 varlet ; go and boast if you can that you have seen Diana's 
 nude body!" 
 
 Jupiter must have seen all of this from Olympus, for 
 from this moment Acteon was hideously changed. He was 
 no more the prepossessing young man; now he had two 
 horns that grew in a moment's time on his temples. His 
 arms were changed into front legs and covered with hair 
 that pied and pard both legs and body. He turned and 
 ran from them in great fright. He did not know where to 
 go to hide his changed body. He at first found refuge in a 
 cave near a forest, but here other animals of a hostile in- 
 stinct sought to do him harm, thinking he was surely their 
 prey. He was forced to leave this cave, and when he did his 
 dogs spied him, thinking him to be an animal. They chased 
 him over mountains and valleys, thru deep gorges and ra- 
 vines, until they overtook him and sunk their teeth in his 
 sides and thighs. 
 
 His companions saw the dogs tearing his body to 
 bits, yet not knowing it to be Acteon, they only sicked the 
 dogs on and cheered for joy at the sport they were having. 
 They called for Acteon to come and join in the fun, and as 
 they called out his name he turned to them with an appeal- 
 ing glance, but it was too late. He could not make known 
 his true identity. Consequently he went to his death as a 
 result of trying to gratify his lustful desires and lascivious 
 curiosity, so ignobly expressed. 
 
20 4 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 ADMETUS AND ALCESTIS 
 
 Admetus sued and sought for the hand of Alcestis. 
 Pelias, her father, had promised her that whoever the lucky 
 man might be, he would come for her in a chariot drawn by- 
 lions and wild boars. This man fate destined to become her 
 husband. Admetus, thru this difficult and dangerous pro- 
 cedure, won his wife and was happy in the possession of 
 her until he was taken very dangerously ill. While ap- 
 parently at the point of death, Apollo's prestige and power 
 over the Fates was sought. He asked them to halt in their 
 intentions for a while and he would see if it would be pos- 
 sible to find someone to die voluntarily by proxy for Ad- 
 metus. This was agreed upon, and Admetus was enjoying 
 his reprieve from total dissolution. He was so happy with 
 his wife he had almost forgotten about the substitute he was 
 yet to supply, when the Furies called upon him. This had 
 come to his mind, but he dismissed the unpleasant reflec- 
 tion because he thought it would be an easy task for him 
 to call upon one of his servants to die for him, because they 
 never yet had hesitated in doing anything he had asked 
 them to do. When the ransom was called for and the sub- 
 stitute demanded, he began to look around, and was griev- 
 ously disappointed, for old comrades and soldiers and his 
 aids in time of battle, who would have gone anywhere for 
 him in the thickest of the fray, or would have charged to 
 redeem his wounded body from the enemy if they had 
 known it would be almost certain death, halted at this pro- 
 posal. They would do any sort of heroic thing, but when 
 he asked them, in time of peace, when all about was calm 
 and beautiful, to simply lie down and die for him, they were 
 not willing, and were evasive in their answers. 
 
 Even old servants that he had employed for years, that 
 had lived from his bountiful salaries, and who had enjoyed 
 life because of him and his fortune, even they were as the 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 205 
 
 soldiers and generals of the army — they could not think in 
 that direction. As strange as it may have seemed to Ad- 
 metus, life was even sweet to them, even tho Jove had not 
 blessed them with personal beauty and with the world's 
 goods and power as he had Admetus. It was with Admetus 
 as it is with one who in time of great need goes to his 
 "friends" to borrow money to bridge them over. They 
 have either just had unexpected calls for their spare change 
 or they say, "Why not go to some of your relatives for the 
 help you need?" This is the way the friends of Admetus 
 answered him. Several of his friends that he had asked 
 these little favors of answered him by asking a question in 
 return: "Why, Admetus, haven't you old senile relatives 
 that are in the valley of the shadow and the slightest breeze 
 of sickness will blow them into the stream of the great be- 
 yond ?" Admetus would answer them, as he was compelled 
 to, if he was to speak the truth that he had old relatives 
 still living. "Well, then, ask them to die for you ; they will 
 surely do it for you, for they have one foot in the grave as 
 it is." 
 
 This was at least a small favor, for Admetus left them 
 with a new idea, and that was that he would go and ask 
 his old relatives to give up and die on a bed of sickness to 
 save his life. This he did, but always received the same 
 negative answer, even from these old relatives that only 
 had a very few years at best. "How astonishing!" Ad- 
 metus soliloquized to himself. "How astonishing to think 
 that even they, as old as they are, want to live and refuse 
 to grant me this small favor I ask of them !" After Admetus 
 had exhausted every available resource in this direction, he 
 saw his own form silhouetted against the background of the 
 mist across the Great Divide. 
 
 But this was only a moment, for he was offered relief that 
 did not please him ; it is not difficult to guess who offered it, 
 for it is characteristic of a pure, sweet, moral wife who loves 
 
206 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 her husband. They are always the ones who will lay down 
 their noble lives or suffer the agonies of Erebus to succor 
 their husbands. This is what his noble wife, Alcestis, of- 
 fered to do as she placed her loving arms about him and 
 smothered a kiss upon his brow. "No, no, no, no, dear 
 heart, I cannot, I cannot! That would be worse than death 
 itself, for I love you too dearly to part from you under any 
 condition, let alone your dying in my stead." But the time 
 had arrived — a decision handed down by the Furies could 
 never be revoked or abrogated. The sentence must be car- 
 ried out to the letter of the law. The verdict is death, or a 
 substitute at a given date, and death it must be. This 
 laconic yet ambiguous sentence was to be executed at once. 
 Admetus was taken sick; he could prognose his fate. He 
 already knew, or thought he knew, his end was near. But 
 such was not the case. The worm had turned. The gods' 
 wand has many crooks and curves. Admetus revived and 
 his dear Alcestis was taken sick and died in his stead. 
 
 What sorrow Admetus must endure now with the light 
 of the world mantled from the retina of his loving soul by 
 the death of Alcestis ! The gods had taken compassion on 
 this heart-broken man, for he had been always worthy of 
 divine intercession on account of his veracity and moral 
 integrity both as a citizen and tender and affectionate hus- 
 band. The great funeral cortege left the home of Admetus. 
 Hercules, the powerful yet gracious god, arrived and was 
 setting about how he would appease the sorrow of Ad- 
 metus, who was now immolating himself upon the altar 
 of grief as a sacrifice for his lost loved one, Alcestis. Her- 
 cules did not use his club. He waited in ambush, as Brown- 
 ing says in his immortal poem. He waited where the soul 
 took its leave from her sweet and tender body. He clasped 
 it in his strong yet careful grasp. He goes to her place of 
 burial, he goes thru operations that are not to be known by 
 man, only Hercules and the Gods of Olympus. He plants 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 207 
 
 the seed and grows the stalk and watches it while it grows. 
 He stays away for so long the people wonder, "Where can 
 Hercules be all of these days? Will he ever return ?" But 
 leave Hercules alone. He knows what is best, as anyone 
 knows best who thinks he is doing right, for no man ever 
 did wrong unless he knew he was doing wrong, for God 
 tells them in his way of "talking" that they are doing wrong. 
 Conscience, his unerring voice, speaks low and is always 
 heard, but not always acted upon. 
 
 Hercules arrived, as hope will always be fed by reality if 
 we have faith and do good "works." Hercules came before 
 Admetus. Admetus surveyed Hercules from head to foot, 
 nor did they speak at first. Admetus was pale and worn 
 and weak, but not from labor nor had he encountered the 
 Nemean Lion or Calydonian Boar, but something far worse, 
 the suffering for his departed loved one. Beneath the hairy 
 lion skin of Hercules' coat a pulsating throb could be per- 
 ceived. Admetus watched, tho did not know. Hercules 
 placed his powerful hand beneath his robe and drew tenderly 
 forth a veiled yet beautiful woman. Admetus could dis- 
 cern her charms without scrutiny. And then, too, Admetus 
 was not the man who would look for beauty in others, for 
 there was but one for him and that was his departed Al- 
 cestis. If he could not have her he would at least cherish 
 and love the sanctity of her memory, "and no other woman," 
 said he, "shall pollute the purity of her boudoir or my 
 palace." 
 
 "Ah, Admetus," spoke Hercules, "but you will at least of- 
 fer this beautiful woman refuge for a while in some part of 
 your home. You will do this for me, I know you will, for 
 think who you are talking to — the great Hercules." 
 
 "No, no, indeed ; my roof shall never shelter another since 
 it cannot shelter Alcestis." 
 
 "Well, I don't care to vaunt her beauty to you, nor keep 
 up a long gasconade on what I have here for your protec- 
 
208 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 tion, but would you not take her if she resembled your 
 Alcestis or was an exact replica of her?" 
 
 "No, not even then would I tolerate her for a moment," 
 rejoined Admetus. 
 
 "Take her by the arm, raise the veil from her features; 
 see, be sure that you are behaving with discretion in shun- 
 ning what I have brought to you." 
 
 At this Admetus stepped forward, tears rolling down his 
 cheeks. Ah, if words were only possessed of more power 
 then what could and what would I not write! Admetus 
 drew the veil tenderly from her golden tresses where it was 
 still hanging. Still he had not spoken a word. As Brown- 
 ing said, "He must procrastinate the truth and keep back 
 the joy" until she had proven herself to be his Alcestis that 
 they could now both live and die together. He spoke at 
 last. Could it all be true, or was it some subtle trick of 
 godly make that had mantled flesh on bony frame to please 
 the sad, or was it she, Alcestis, his beloved? As yet Ad- 
 metus had only touched the veil. No flesh of her unknown 
 should taint his hand, for it might be a test to see if he was 
 true — this specter divinely interposed by godly power to 
 prove his fortitude. 
 
 But no, altho she stood before him in beatific pose, Her- 
 cules went on to plead, saying, "Admetus, look, behold, 
 thy wife and queen! You know me well. My valor and 
 renown! Have I yet failed in earthly life below? Have I 
 not conquered, fought and won? Have I not won by brain 
 as well as brawn, and fooled even Atlas when I asked him 
 to aid me in my quest for golden fruit? And did he not 
 go to the garden soon and from it bring Hesperian apples 
 bright? When I had said, 'Go, go, please go/ he said to me, 
 'How can I go? Haven't I enough to do? I hold the 
 vaulted dome of heaven and still you ask of me more work. 
 My shoulders now are lame, my body sore.' 'But wait/ I 
 said, 'Let me hold heaven a while and this will be a novelty. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 209 
 
 a change. Go get the fruit, and I will hold the heavens/ 
 And such we did and when the fruit was brought he then 
 appealed for still a longer rest. He said, Til take the fruit 
 to where it is to go/ Said I, 'Well, that you might, but 
 hold while I replace the pad to ease my neck and then 
 you may make off/ We changed again ; I took the fruit 
 and he the heavens upon his shoulders strong. I thanked 
 him long and bade a long adieu and here am I, the Hercules 
 with you. And still nor is this all Fve done, nor have I 
 time to recount the other labors eleven. But I have fought 
 of late for you, dear king, and won. Even from her tomb, 
 I, with these arms of mine, from ambush snatched her from 
 the bier, and for your sake and hers have brought her 
 here." 
 
 And all this time, 
 
 While he was talking long, 
 Nor did Alcestis move, 
 
 Tho silent smiles 
 Stole from her brow, 
 
 That was to him a song, 
 She Used — and now beguiles 
 
 Him on to know her now. 
 
 Admetus still was cold, 
 
 Tho not of heart, 
 He only wonders why 
 
 She stays apart. 
 Hercules interposed, 
 
 "The time is rife," 
 He opened what was closed, 
 
 Their life. 
 
210 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 'Tis best for lips like hers, 
 
 To tell the loving rest, 
 She spoke — breath blew away the blurs, 
 
 We're both Olympian blest. 
 His heart it stirs, 
 
 For he'd won it by this test. 
 
 And now they join, 
 
 As water pure joins water pure, 
 Not even flesh — precipitate, 
 
 Recalcitrant — endure. 
 
 Hercules speaks the last — 
 "Go, ye, lead thy love awa>, 
 
 To piety cling ye fast, 
 And live eternal day. 
 
 "Farewell to thee, 
 
 Now I have lit the road, 
 Admetus and Alcestis flee, 
 
 To heaven's abode." 
 
 MINOS, SON OF EUROPA 
 
 Minos, son of Europa, was the possessor of a wonderful 
 bull, of which his wife, Pasiphae, became so fond, on ac- 
 count of its beauty, that she became nearly obsessed, until 
 Hercules rode it thru the sea to Greece. Tho before this 
 it bore a monster that was named the Minator, which had 
 a head like a bull and body like that of a man. This beast 
 became such a terror to the island that Minos employed 
 Daedalus, an artificer, to construct the famous labyrinth, 
 which was curved and terraced with chambers above ground 
 and below, winding as the river Meander. Anyone who was 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 211 
 
 shut up in this prison could never find their way out. The 
 more they walked to discover an exit the more bewildered 
 they became. 
 
 There had been trouble between Crete and Greece, and 
 when Megarra was conquered, the Greeks were to give to 
 Minos annually, seven adolescing males and females, a 
 tribute to feed this brute. This had been done for many 
 years until Theseus, the son of iEgeus of Athens, was sent 
 to Crete to kill this monster. He informed his father that 
 on his return, if he was successful, he would hoist white 
 sails that he could know before he arrived of his good for- 
 tune. Theseus was aided by Ariadne, the daughter of 
 Minos, by handing him a spool of silver thread that Vulcan 
 had made on his divine smithy, and told him to unwind the 
 thread as he entered this labyrinth. This he did and met 
 the Minator and slew him. Ariadne was afterwards de- 
 serted by Theseus, whom she must have loved at first sight, 
 but later found solace away from her home in the Isle of 
 Naxos with her new-made lover, Bacchus. By some mistake 
 of the promised sign in the hoisting of the white sails, they 
 bore the opposite significance to the eyes of ^Egeus, father 
 of Theseus, which proved so overwhelming a shock to him 
 that he fell from a precipice into the sea, and this body of 
 water was afterwards called the ^Egeian Sea. 
 
 OEDIPUS, THE KING 
 
 From the house of Labdacus sprang many great rulers, 
 among who was Laius, heir to the throne of Thebes. Thru 
 an oracle he was warned that the future held great and 
 unparalleled calamities for him and his posterity, one being 
 that he was to be slain by his own son. This foreboding 
 fear that he was compelled to entertain caused him to send 
 his young son (later named (Edipus) to the mountains, 
 
212 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 there to be cared for by a common herdsman for a given 
 time. The herdsman was instructed to do away with 
 him by taking his life. However hard it was for this 
 herdsman to disobey the king's behest, he would not obey. 
 Instead of taking his life he pierced one of his feet, which 
 crippled him for life. Why this was done will probably 
 never be known, although it was more humane than to take 
 the innocent boy's life. Not long after this the young prince 
 was sent to the King of Corinth. This was King Polybus. 
 The king received him and gave him the name of CEdipus 
 or "swollen foot/' which the word meant to convey. After 
 he had grown to man's estate he was informed thru an 
 oracle that he was going to be the cause of his father's 
 death. This caused him to leave Corinth, for he had been 
 adopted by this king and perhaps was of the opinion he was 
 the father designed by the gods for him to do away with. 
 In making this trip back thru his native land by means of 
 a chariot, he was about to meet another chariot that con- 
 tained two passengers. They would not turn and give him 
 any of the right of way. This inflamed his anger to such 
 an enormous degree, he slipped from his chariot and slew its 
 occupants, one of which was Laius, his father. This ful- 
 filled the oracle. 
 
 After a time, CEdipus went on to Thebes, and on the way, 
 amid the mountains, was a ravenous monster that had tor- 
 mented the surrounding country for many months. They 
 had characterized this monster by the name of Sphynx. It 
 was in form the same as the great Sphynx at Cairo, Egypt, 
 but that one is cut out of a solid stone, while this one was 
 composed of flesh and bone, and was invested with life and 
 great strength. It had the face, head, shoulders and arms of 
 a woman and body of a lion. This beast would wait in 
 statant pose for all who came by on the highroad to the 
 city of Thebes. (Don't confound this Thebes with Thebes 
 in Upper Egypt, the City with the Hundred Gates.) This 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 213 
 
 being had intelligence as well as strength, for when people 
 passed by it would stop them and propound a riddle. If 
 they could answer the riddle they might pass on in safety. 
 If not, the creature would consume them bodily. Many 
 had tried to solve the riddle, but none as yet had succeeded, 
 until (Edipus arrived on the scene. The Sphynx at once 
 asked him what animal it was that in the morning goes on 
 four feet, at noon on two and in the evening upon three. 
 (Edipus, after a moment's reflection and after perhaps sur- 
 veying his own deformity, answered by saying "It is man," 
 for in childhood he goes crawling on hands and knees, at 
 adult age he goes on two legs and in old age he goes on 
 three, meaning the two legs and a cane or staff. 
 
 At this the Sphynx was so overcome at its riddle being 
 guessed it leaped from a rocky cliff that was near and 
 perished. This good news traveled like wildfire thruout 
 Thebes, and when (Edipus arrived in the city the people by 
 unanimous vote made him their king, and to further com- 
 pensate him for delivering them from this dangerous en- 
 vironment they had so long been compelled to live by, they 
 gave him the hand in marriage of their beautiful Queen, 
 Jocasta, who was older than he, but was still handsome. 
 They also emolumented him with a gracious salary. Here he 
 was King of Thebes, the throne where once ruled his own 
 father whom he had murdered because he would not turn 
 out and let him pass, and still he was ignorant of the fact 
 that it really was his father whom he had dispatched with so 
 slight a provocation. That was one of the ignoble acts he 
 had ignorantly committed, and above all to marry the 
 queen, who was no other than his own mother, of which 
 he was equally ignorant. And now he was king of the 
 people of Thebes and was living an incestuous life with his 
 mother. For many years he remained ignorant of the true 
 status of things. Finally a terrible pestilential plague came 
 
214 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 upon the country*. And as retribution for his sins and his 
 forefathers' shortcomings, the gods not only brought this 
 terrible plague on his subjects, but thru this calamity he 
 got to know who he was and that he had killed his own 
 father, and had carried on incestuous commerce with his 
 own mother, who was his own flesh and blood. He was 
 not incredulous when first enlightened on the subject, for 
 he knew there were two oracles extant that he was to fulfil 
 and this he could plainly see fulfilled them. 
 
 What sorrow he underwent can never be known. There 
 he was cast and shattered from the throne's pedestal as king 
 and exalted ruler of his people to the very lowest realm of 
 disgrace and degradation. His anger, remorse and shattered 
 prospects were backgrounds for reflection. He would have 
 left the country, but now the people would not submit to 
 his departure. He was compelled to abide with them at 
 least for a while. The Queen, his mother, was even more 
 impulsive than he was, for she destroyed herself by hang- 
 ing. Creon, the brother of Jocasto, was made regent of the 
 realm as soon as the abdication of CEdipus and the death of 
 Jocasto had taken place. His abdication was not voluntary, 
 for he was compelled to give way by his own sons and by 
 the reigning regent. He was very harsh, and made things 
 very disagreeable both in the royal family and in the city 
 until it became necessary for the regent and the two sons 
 to place their father in exile. 
 
 CEdipus had been blessed with a beautiful daughter 
 named Antigone. He was allowed to take her along with 
 him to share his exile. She, being fond of her father, ac- 
 companied him without the slightest degree of hesitancy, 
 although they were compelled to solicit alms for their im- 
 mediate wants and subsistence. He wandered far and 
 underwent much suffering, being taunted and kept down by 
 
 *See Sophocles' "CEdipus, the King," translated into English by 
 Plumtree. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 215 
 
 innuendo and slurs from the rabble in different localities 
 until finally he arrived at Colonus, near Athens in Attica. 
 Here he found a friend who proved a true friend, and that 
 was no other than Theseus, the king. Ismene, his other 
 daughter, finally joined him here, which increased his family 
 circle, for Antigone had remained with him thruout. The 
 King of Athens gave him pleasant quarters and here he re- 
 mained until he passed on to a higher life. 
 
 The throne at Thebes was designed to have many un- 
 pleasant occurrences from this on, for their troubles con- 
 tinued, as Scripture records, "until the third and fourth 
 generation, ,, which was vividly apparent in the history of 
 the posterity of Laius, who were now to continue the rule of 
 these people. Polynices and Etocles were his sons, who 
 had decided to take up the reins of government alternately. 
 One was to rule one year and then the other. Etocles ruled 
 the first year, and would not surrender the throne to his 
 brother when the time had arrived for him to retire. This 
 caused trouble. Polynices sought counsel and aid from the 
 neighboring kingdom of Argos, which was the beginning 
 of the long drawn-out trouble between Thebes and Argos, 
 called the "Seven Against Thebes/' Adrastus was king 
 of Argos at this time. He had a beautiful daughter whose 
 hand he gave to Polynices in marriage, and to dethrone the 
 brother who had acted with so much insolence and indiscre- 
 tion in violating his compact with Polynices, this princess 
 mobolized her reserve army that had always been kept in 
 readiness. She not alone depended on her own force, but 
 others allied with her for grievances they had entertained 
 against the same house. The names of these seven heroes 
 were as follows: Capaneus of Argos, Hypomedon of the 
 same place, Partheappeus of Arcadia, who was a son of 
 Atalanta, Amphiaraus and Adrastus and the King and his 
 son-in-law. 
 
 It is the belief of many that gems, or at least some of 
 
216 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 them, are talismanic, and that they have a latent power that 
 goes with them that is of both good and bad in its effect 
 on the wearer. Many years previous a beautiful necklace 
 that Cadmus, founder of Thebes, had come in possession 
 of thru his marriage with Harmonia, was presented as a 
 wedding gift by Vulcan. It became and remained one of 
 the crown jewels of the Thebian dynasty. 
 
 It was then held by Polynices, who well knew the 
 curse that went with this bauble. When he left Thebes 
 he took it with him for the purpose of its dissolving power. 
 Eriphyle, who was the king's sister and had married Adras- 
 tus, was the one that all matters of great importance were 
 left to for decision. Polynices, knowing this, decided it 
 would be policy and of logical sequence to present her with 
 this necklace, not alone for the curse that went with it but 
 to purchase her favoritism. 
 
 The war went on for many years ; many deeds of heroism 
 were enacted. Much cupidity and trickery was introduced 
 by first one and then the other contestant. Oracles 
 were sent to them by the gods. Jupiter struck many dumb 
 by his great weapon, lightning. The outcome was dubious. 
 Hostilities finally culminated into a warring deadlock. One 
 was as powerful as the other until the leaders left the ques- 
 tion to the female judge, who had worn the necklace, to de- 
 cide what should be done, and she decided on single com- 
 bat between two of the best and most able-bodied men they 
 had ; one from Argos, the other from Thebes. They met 
 and both struck a fatal blow at the same time, both falling 
 to the ground dead. The armies on both sides at this flew 
 at each other with all the force and courage they could 
 muster, but the Argocian forces were completely routed. 
 Both Polynices and his brother, Eteocles, were killed. 
 Creon, who had been regent of Thebes, was made their 
 king, and Polynices had not only drawn the animadversion 
 pi the gods upon himself, but had also incurred the anger 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 217 
 
 of Creon to such an extent that burial was even denied him. 
 The influence he had received by handling the necklace by 
 giving it to others for its destructive power, might have 
 been the indirect cause of his downfall and death. 
 
 It was then a belief among the ancient Greeks as also 
 with the Egyptians, that to insure the eternal salvation of 
 the human soul it was necessary for the friends and rela- 
 tives of the departed to give the body a fitting burial, ac- 
 companied with all the solemn rites that tradition had pre- 
 scribed. The Egyptians went even further than this. They 
 would mummyize or, by the agency of different spices, 
 would preserve the body, thinking that the same form 
 would on the Judgment Day arise and be invested with the 
 same soul. 
 
 Antigone, sister of Polynices, learning that her brother's 
 body had been refused burial, and was exposed upon the 
 battlefield where it was left under penalty of death by the 
 king if anyone disturbed it, flew to the spot, and was in the 
 act of burying it with her own hands, when Creon dis- 
 covered her. He at once buried her alive with Polynices; 
 this being done for her disobeying his edict. Creon's son 
 stood nearby, for he loved Antigone, and appealed to his 
 father to spare her, but Creon would not listen. The boy, 
 overcome with grief at her ignoble ending, killed himself 
 before his father's eyes. Creon saw his mistake when it was 
 too late, and suffered remorse for this terrible act the rest 
 of his days. The coming generation went against Thebes 
 and leveled it to the ground. This ended the House of Lab- 
 dacus. The offspring of GEdipus was exterminated, and the 
 necklace was now having its last dissolving force. Thebes 
 was crushed and the poisoned necklace was given to the 
 Temple of Delphi, which from that time removed the deadly 
 influence it had for so long brought to bear on the House 
 of Cadmus. 
 
2i8 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 ECHO AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Echo was a graceful and alert Oread, continually among 
 the rocky canyons and hills. She was with Diana much 
 of her time on her hunting tours. But her superabundance 
 of loquacity purchased the jealousy of Juno, Queen of 
 Heaven. Having the power to injure her, she took away 
 her voice, except to reply to questions put to her. She 
 could not volunteer to question others. Cephissus, the river 
 god, had a beautiful son named Narcissus. Echo was very 
 fond of him and desired to express her love and devotion 
 to him, tho she could only repeat what he might be saying. 
 And many times he would say things that were derogatory 
 to her true sentiments. This was so displeasing to Narcis- 
 sus that he reproached her for her sweet overtures, telling 
 her he would rather perish than become her husband. This 
 maid suffered untold agony, and to appease her grief she 
 sequestered herself among the palisades and hills. Finally 
 unrequited love undermined her health to the extent that 
 she became so attenuated she was reduced to nothing but her 
 voice, which could only repeat what others said. Altho she 
 must suffer all this she remained faithful to her lover, Nar- 
 cissus, who was not worthy of her love, for he was so proud 
 and had so much self-esteem and would vaunt his personal 
 beauty to others until he became very displeasing. 
 
 He knew well he had physical charms and that the 
 nymphs were all fond of him, but he would shun them all 
 as he did Echo. He loved only himself. He saw his own 
 reflection in the clear waters of a river one day and fell 
 deeply in love with it. He endeavored to embrace and kiss 
 it, stooping with head reclining, telling his own mirrored 
 self how fond he was of what he saw. He remained in this 
 posture for a long period, and was so overcome by this re- 
 flection that he pined away and died, something as Echo 
 had done previously. After his death this penchant still 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 219 
 
 manifested itself in his immortal shade, for while he was 
 being ferried across the River Styx he saw his likeness as 
 he bent over the side of the boat, and endeavored to kiss it 
 as he had in life. After his untimely death the nymphs 
 mourned his loss. Echo would strike her breast and moan 
 above the rest. They sought his beautiful remains, but all 
 in vain, except where he had passed away on the brink of 
 the stream they found a beautiful flower with white and 
 purple petals, which they named Narcissus. This same 
 flower is proud of its beauty, for it bends its head to view 
 its own personality in the mirroring waters as they ripple 
 by*. 
 
 Adulation is the death of virtue, 
 
 Pride a seraphic crime; 
 Vainglorious souls that on it nurture, 
 
 Must fall in time. 
 
 PHAON, MYRRHA AND ARGUS 
 
 Phaon of Lesbos was a ferryman. The symmetry and 
 grace of his youthful body was perfect, his features classical 
 and attractive. In running his ferry from Lesbos to Chios, 
 he was often asked by disagreeable persons the favor of 
 ferrying them across from one isle to the other. His heart 
 was large ; he would not only ferry them across, but would 
 commiserate them in their troubles in any way he could. 
 One day an old beldame asked him if he would ferry her 
 over to Chios without compensation. Phaon consented 
 without the least hesitancy, but later it appeared that the 
 lady he supposed was some old crone was none other than 
 the Queen of Paphos in disguise. On her return passage 
 she took off her disguise, and Phaon, of course, did not 
 
 *See Ovid's "Metamorphosis." 
 
220 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 recognize her as the former old hag. This time she tested 
 his spirit of generosity for the second time, and it had under- 
 gone no perceptible change. He would ferry the rich and 
 the poor alike, for he seemed to have a generous, humani- 
 tarian heart. 
 
 After Phaon had ferried her back she told Phaon who 
 she was, and that she was the same old crone he had ferried 
 over the other day. Then she withdrew a granite jar of 
 ungent, redolent with perfume, and told him if he would 
 use this he would always be youthful and beautiful, for it 
 possessed magical powers in suppressing age, feeding the 
 try-out of time and satiating perpetual youth. He used the 
 salve and became so strikingly beautiful that the women 
 of the two islands would give him no peace ; they all loved 
 him and sought his caresses. Finally his beauty was to 
 cause not only broken hearts but even death, for one of the 
 victims of his charms was the singing poetess, Sappho, who 
 loved him beyond description ; he became the inspira- 
 tion of her songs. Phaon would not reciprocate her affec- 
 tion, even after she sang her love sonnets and idylls to him. 
 Phaon was made so much of that he became spoiled. Con- 
 tinual adulation causes man's affections to become vacillat- 
 ing, and they cannot concentrate their love on any one wo- 
 man. Perceiving this, and becoming aware of his repulsion 
 toward her self-tendered hand, Sappho's pride and modesty 
 were hurt. She could see but one way to relieve the misery 
 of her heart and that was to ascend the high rock over- 
 looking the sea and leap from its apex. This she did, with 
 fatal effect. The rock is called "Lover's Leap" and is 
 pointed out to visitors until this day by the natives of the 
 island. 
 
 Sappho was not alone a poetess, but a physically beauti- 
 ful woman as well. She has been counted the tenth muse. 
 Instead of seeking refuge in death as Sappho did, many of 
 the beautiful women of ancient times were anthropo- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 221 
 
 morphic and this rendered them still more attractive, for it 
 is natural to aspire to something high and exalted instead 
 of looking down. These beautiful women were turned into 
 stones and trees to evade their relentless pursuers. Myrrha 
 was transformed into a myrtle tree ; Polyphonte into an owl ; 
 Arisnoe into a stone. This was Aphrodite's way of serving 
 a penalty upon those who disobeyed her love behests. Even 
 Hypolitus could not pay the slightest attention to Diana 
 without causing Venus to become jealous, and a jealous 
 woman who is gifted with divine powers is a dangerous 
 object to encounter, as Hypolitus found her to be, for she 
 proved to be his ruin as she had been to Enone, Phosephae, 
 Procris, Ariadne, Helen, Loadomia and Eriphyle. 
 
 It seems the mode of punishment with the gods was 
 by metamorphosis. Think of poor Io, who was changed 
 into a heifer by Jupiter when he discovered his wife Juno 
 approaching, and after Juno had come closer she petted 
 the heifer and wanted it herself, not knowing it was a 
 beautiful woman that Jupiter had been making love to, and 
 to shield his illicit love-making had recourse to this terrible 
 transformation to deceive his wife Juno. However, Jupiter 
 pleased his wife and took the heifer away with them. This 
 would have pleased Jupiter to have had Io near him that 
 he might change her back to a woman whenever Juno was 
 away from him, but Juno wasn't to be fooled that easily, 
 for she employed the hundred-eyed Argus to watch over 
 this "Io" heifer. Argus watched her well and long, until 
 one day Mercury drew his attention by means of his en- 
 trancing music and stories he told him. This lulled Argus 
 to sleep, and as soon as he fell into a doze Mercury slew 
 him and set Io free. Juno enucleated the hundred eyes of 
 Argus and spread them on her peacock's tail feathers, where 
 they are until this day. 
 
 Io ran to the sea and Juno sent a gadfly in pursuit of 
 her. Poor Io saw there was no turning back, so swam to 
 
222 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 get away from the gadfly. The sea was afterwards named 
 after her, "Ionian. " Finally she arrived on the shores of 
 Egypt and swam the Nile, where Jupiter saw her again, 
 and Juno agreed to restore her to her original maiden beauty 
 if Jupiter would leave her alone. This he agreed to, and 
 Juno changed her to the Maid Io, which gave her her orig- 
 inal form and magnetic personality. The mythological in- 
 terpretation of Io is supposed to have meant the moon, 
 which is horned in its different phases. Argus is the star- 
 lit heavens — some of his eyes, or stars, blink at us. Mercury 
 is the morning breeze ushering in the sunlight that closes 
 the eyes of Argus, or all the stars in the heavens, and al- 
 lows Io, the sun-faced clouds in the form of a heifer, to fly 
 away into nothingness across the southern seas. 
 
 ATALANTA AND HER RACE WITH HYPPOMENES 
 
 Atalanta was the daughter of Schceneus. The family 
 had been warned thru an oracle that marriage would be 
 fatal to their daughter, consequently she avoided all men 
 and devoted her time to all manner of sports until her 
 physical being was perfect and entrancing to behold. She 
 was a Phryne in beauty and tenderness, as well as powerful 
 physically. Many men tried to win her love, but she re- 
 pulsed them all, or if she was in any way taken with their 
 personality she would tell them that they would have to 
 win her by beating her at the stadium. The one who suc- 
 ceeded in outrunning her would be the one she would ac- 
 cept as her husband, tho she warned them that if they were 
 defeated by her they were to be killed as a penalty for their 
 defeat. Many were foolish enough to try, and lost their 
 lives as a result of their defeat. When this virgin dashed 
 swiftly ahead in her racing, with her golden tresses raped 
 by the breeze, and her garments furled back, exposing her 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 223 
 
 beautiful limbs, the exercise stimulated her rosy cheeks to 
 a refulgent hue. 
 
 This all contributed toward enhancing her beauty, to the 
 extent of even winning the judge Hyppomenes, who had 
 heretofore been judge of many of her races with her suitors, 
 but he could not resist her charms any longer and told her 
 he would run with her for the prize of her beautiful self. 
 If he was lucky enough to win her he would make offerings 
 to the gods. Atalanta looked into his eyes and her heart 
 must have gone out to him at once, for she was somewhat 
 changed in her attitude toward men after he had offered 
 to run with her and risk his life, for she knew that he was 
 an extraordinary youth and one of the most worthy that 
 had yet sought her hand. The race was set for a certain 
 day and Hyppomenes had asked aid of Venus and she had 
 promised him she would see that he was graciously helped 
 in the coming event. The day arrived — they stood on the 
 mark — the signal was given and off they went. Hyppo- 
 menes was ahead, but could see that she was fast gaining 
 on him, so he dropped a beautiful golden apple that Venus 
 had given him for this purpose, and as she saw this she 
 stooped, glanced at it for a moment, then she resumed her 
 usual speed, but had lost time by glancing at the apple. 
 Hyppomenes repeated this act of dropping golden apples 
 until she finally stooped where he had dropped the third 
 and picked it up. By this she lost time and was beaten 
 a fraction of an inch. When the race was over they turned 
 and walked together for a few paces ; her breast was rising 
 with deep respiratory movements, her blushing sweetness 
 was deeply painted by the exhilarating exercise. She gave 
 her hand to Hyppomenes, the very hand that held the golden 
 apple. 
 
 "Leave me now," she uttered with a modest reluctance 
 and still a loving glance. They might have gone on thru 
 life together, but for some reason they had provoked the 
 
224 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 wrath of the Goddess Cybele, and they were taken away ; 
 she was transformed into a lioness for her masculinity in 
 trying to conquer her lovers and causing them to lose their 
 lives in an effort to possess her beautiful body; he was 
 transformed into a lion for the part that he took in encourag- 
 ing such sport. They were afterwards yoked together, lion 
 and lioness, Hyppomenes and Atalanta, where they still 
 remain until this day on mural paintings and statues the 
 world over. 
 
 THE CALYDONIAN HUNT 
 
 One of the great heroes with Jason on the good ship Argo 
 was Meleager. GEneus was the king of Calydon in iEtolia ; 
 his son Meleager had done much in the way of settling the 
 country, and had inherited many good traits of character 
 from his illustrious parents. His progenitors had sprung 
 from the most illustrious and noble stock in Greece. One 
 of his near relatives was Dejanira, the wife of Hercules, 
 while Leda, another close relative, became the mother of 
 the twins, Castor and Pollux, all of which contributed 
 toward making the family name an exalted one. I must 
 not omit Helen, sister to Castor and Pollux, who has done 
 so much thru her unequaled beauty to embellish the pages 
 of history, poetry and mythology. 
 
 When Althea gave birth to Meleager, she saw on the 
 family hearth a large charred piece of wood that was 
 burning with tongues of flame shooting from it, and she 
 heard the fiery tongues say to her that the accouchement 
 would not live any longer than the piece of charred wood 
 she was looking at ; that his life would soon burn out with 
 a flash as the wood was doing. Althea threw water on the 
 coals and picked this particular one out from the rest and 
 kept it in an urn free from molestation. It might have 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 225 
 
 been this very act that brought down the wrath of Jove 
 upon her head by changing the fate of her son. It was 
 either this, or the father, who in offering sacrifice to the 
 gods omitted Diana, for it enraged Diana and Jupiter to 
 the extent that they caused the materialization of a terribly 
 dangerous and destructive boar, which was loosed in this 
 country and became for many months a great pest and 
 detriment to all the inhabitants. 
 
 Meleager instigated a hunt called "The Calydonian 
 Hunt," to which he summoned the aid of all the heroes he 
 could influence to take part in this formidable adventure, 
 their object being to dispatch this destructive beast. Some 
 of the heroes were Theseus, Jason, Telamon, Nestor and 
 Atalanta, daughter of Iasius. She was caparisoned in hunt- 
 ing garb, but was the most attractive of all who took part, 
 which of course was natural, she being one of the fair sex. 
 
 The heroes were glad to have the company of at least one 
 female, especially one who was so overwhelmingly attrac- 
 tive, and one who by her personality would stimulate and 
 inspire both chivalry and valor among the heroes that were 
 near her, for men always will put their best hand forward 
 if they know a beautiful woman is observing their move- 
 ments, especially when they know the woman present ad- 
 mires bravery and heroic deeds above everything else. Altho 
 she was gowned so becomingly sweet and was so much 
 admired, they did not dare devote any time to making love 
 to her, for this awful boar was paramount in their minds 
 and would have to be done away with first. (It is possible 
 these knights of the chase were more of a bore to her than 
 the boar itself.) There were several in the company who 
 were jealous, and who would have caused much discord 
 among them if they could have had the opportunity to do 
 so. 
 
 Two of these heroes were Plexippus and Toxeus, both 
 brothers of the Queen Althea. They arrived near the cave 
 
226 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 of the boar, and stretched great nets made of woven wood 
 fibre ; then they set their dogs on the beast to force him out 
 of the shrubbery at the mouth of the cave. The mud was 
 knee deep. Many of the company got stuck in the quick- 
 sand and the boar came rushing out and killed several of 
 them before they had time to fire an arrow at him. Finally 
 the brute made a second onset, and several of the heroes 
 sprang forth and were nearly killed before they had time 
 to retreat. Two of them would have been killed, had it not 
 have been for Atalanta, who grasped the situation in a flash 
 and sprang forth and threw her spear, which wounded the 
 boar. Still the brute was not mortally wounded, but just 
 enough to cause it to be more treacherous than before. 
 However, they all praised Atalanta for her daring charge 
 and effectual aim. Peleus, Jason and Theseus made a third 
 attack. The animal made an unexpected flank movement 
 and killed Auceus, one of their best men. Meleager set 
 his teeth at this, raised his long, sinewy arm above his 
 head and threw his spear, which took effect in the beast's 
 heart. This brought forth cheers from all the company, 
 but Meleager would not accept all of the glory, for he 
 handed the hide and the spear that killed the boar over to 
 Atalanta as a trophy of their victorious hunt, and told her 
 and the heroes present that she had really been the cause 
 of their success. 
 
 This caused much jealousy among the heroes, and Plexip- 
 pus and his brother Taxeus started at Atalanta, and grasped 
 the trophy from out her hand. Meleager, too manly to 
 tolerate this abrupt and unchivalrous act, sprang at them 
 and slew them both. Althea had been making sacrifice at 
 the temple, and was on her way home as she was forced 
 to look upon the dead bodies of her brothers. Altho very 
 happy at first to learn the success of her heroic son Me- 
 leager, her countenance changed from smiles to sorrow 
 and dismay on being informed of the demise of her broth- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 227 
 
 ers. Altho he was her own son she swore vengeance. She 
 thought of the charred piece of wood she had saved from 
 the fire. She knew in this way she could destroy him for 
 killing her brothers. She brought forth the charred piece 
 of wood and commanded her servants to start a fire. When 
 the fire became intense she laid the piece of wood in the 
 fire. Then she thought, "But he is my son, Meleager. My 
 son! Can I do this? Shall I do this?" 
 
 Then she would relent and stand back for a moment. 
 Then again her wrath would arise and assert its influence 
 on her, and she would place the charred piece of wood once 
 more on the fire and again she would change her mind and 
 withdraw it. She had repeated this operation several times, 
 until finally her grievance had assumed such inimicable 
 proportions that she left it on the fire and in a short time 
 it was consumed and Meleager melted away. As the wood 
 burned to ashes his knees gave way and he fell to the floor 
 dead. The oracle was fulfilled — Meleager was to last as 
 long as the charred piece of wood and no longer. The 
 mother suffered remorse as a consequence of her terrible 
 act. She brooded over what she had done until she finally 
 took her own life.* 
 
 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 The mythological history of these two characters, if put 
 into story form and narrated as the poets of old have given 
 us the substance to build from, is an interesting myth, but 
 a sad one. 
 
 Orpheus was a son of the sun god, Apollo, and the Muse 
 Calliope. In extreme youth Orpheus was given a lyre by 
 his father, and was taught to play upon it. He excelled in 
 
 *For poem on this subject see Swinburn's "Atalanta in 
 Calydon." 
 
228 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 this art above all others. While he was in the green fields, 
 or in the forests, or among the foothills of the Parnassus, 
 his lyre could be heard at intervals in its orotund vibrations, 
 that would swell with melody and then sink into a soft, 
 mellow, smothered, longing tone that kept up until the 
 muse would change his spell to a rhapsody, and on and on 
 from one to the other. This was so entrancing that it not 
 only brought to his side all mankind who were fortunate 
 enough to hear him, but it had the same effect upon beasts 
 that were feral and even dangerous to be encounterd. Or- 
 pheus had a taming influence over them. Even inanimate 
 objects were said to have been overcome by the musical 
 strains from his lyre. 
 
 Orpheus and Eurydice were greatly enamoured of each 
 other, but, as has often happened since, Providence had 
 destined their love journey to be over a rocky path. At 
 the wedding of Orpheus and Eurydice the torches, that 
 were always in evidence at the weddings of gods and god- 
 desses, smoked and made all who were present shed tears. 
 This was a bad omen, which proved in a short time to mean 
 much that was heartrending to both Orpheus and his 
 spouse. Aristeus, who was a shepherd of extremely pre- 
 possessing personality, had the good fortune to see Eury- 
 dice one day after her marriage, when she appeared her 
 very best. He became attracted to her at once, and some- 
 thing impelled him to approach her abruptly and make 
 himself known, and to inform her of his great infatuation 
 for her. Being a sweet, pure woman, she turned about and 
 ran from him, in such haste that she was careless as to the 
 path she took in getting away from his unwelcome ad- 
 vances. In doing this she stepped upon a poisonous snake 
 that bit her on the foot, from which, after a short period of 
 suffering, she died. Her loss instead of deadening Orpheus' 
 musical gifts, had the opposite effect. Never had the world 
 been adorned with one who could execute the lyre as Or- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 229 
 
 pheus could. No one could listen to his harmonious strains 
 without emotion. It pierced the very soul of both man and 
 beast. His strains were mournful; he caused them to be 
 solemn. This was his voice of sorrow, this was his way of 
 complaining to the earth for the loss of his beautiful bride, 
 a sweet way to complain, altho it might have been effectual 
 in Orpheus' time. However, it proved to be unavailing, for 
 he could not bring Eurydice back to earth in this way, how- 
 ever attractively he played the lyre; he knew, it is very 
 likely if this would not attract her to him it was useless to 
 resort to any other means that he might have had recourse 
 to. So he resolved to visit Hades and see her there. He 
 forthwith went to the heights of Tenarus, where between 
 the hills and rocks he descended into the realms of Tartarus. 
 He was not accompanied as iEneas was when he went be- 
 low in Italy with the Sibyl as his cicerone counsel. Altho 
 this was his "coup de essai," or first attempt, to go where 
 Pluto and his queen, Proserpine, held forth, he was impelled 
 thru his longing to do or to die. He passed an avenue of 
 ghosts as he went on his way thru the gates of the outer 
 court. He was not harmed, for he sang and played as the 
 troubadour poets of the Middle Ages were in the habit of 
 doing. He made it known that he had come to stay unless 
 his quest for Eurydice bore fruit, for the world offered little 
 attraction to him without her. His musical appeals for his 
 wife made even the shades shed tears of grief. The cham- 
 bers of Hades were all quiet for a moment. Even Rhada- 
 manthus and Minos, the sober judges, laid down their 
 gavels and listened to his musical strains. The beautiful 
 reverberations were heard through and beyond the gates of 
 adamant, where the chamber of horrors and deathless dying 
 was. Tantalus was thirsting unto death for want of water, 
 when copious amounts of spring water was continuously 
 flowing a short distance from him ; even he looked up with 
 benignant smile and pleasing mien. Ixion's wheel of tor- 
 
2 3 o MYTHOLOGY 
 
 ture ceased in its maddening revolutions. The Danaids 
 stopped from their tiresome task of drawing water in a 
 sieve, also many others were entranced by his music. It 
 might be well to explain the significance of the daughters of 
 Danaus before going further. The daughters of Danaus, 
 who were fifty in number, were characters in the mythical 
 form of nymphs, supposed to be nymphs of the springs who 
 held forth over the springs or cascades that sprung out of 
 the soil of Argos. The fifty sons of Egyptus were to repre- 
 sent the fifty streams of water these springs supplied, which 
 went dry during the hot summer season. This accounts 
 for the significance of the story that their heads were cut 
 off, and they were sent into Hades, where they were set 
 to work at drawing water with a sieve, which must have 
 meant the soft, sandy soil of Argos which absorbs the mois- 
 ture in the summer when the springs are completely dry. 
 
 Even the King and Queen of Hades themselves gave way 
 to emotion, for this was not an every-day occurrence. 
 Eurydice hastened to Orpheus, and as she was coming 
 down the vaulted corridor toward her husband he could 
 hear her limp. Orpheus petitioned the king to let him take 
 his much-beloved wife away with him, but thru the opposi- 
 tion brought to bear by the Furies, Pluto would not let her 
 go unless he would abide by one condition, that he should not 
 look into her face until he had taken her above ground and 
 out of the limbo they were now in. Of course Orpheus con- 
 sented to this and started along, leading his beloved to the 
 surface of the earth. On his way he was to pass by and 
 thru parts of Hades he had never before surveyed, for it 
 seemed to be a different way than by that which he entered. 
 The inmates, who were very numerous, as well as the at- 
 tendants, looked with astonishment at the unheard-of 
 temerity Orpheus was displaying. Yet he continued on his 
 way thru unspeakable corridors of grief and chambers of 
 this inferno until he had reached the last exit, and here he 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 231 
 
 either inadvertently forgot, or else he could not wait any 
 kmger. He did as Lot's wife is said to have done outside 
 Jj the walls of Sodom and Gomorrah. According to Scrip- 
 t Are, Lot's wife looked around at the smoking ruins of 
 4odom and was metamorphosed into a pillar of salt. Or- 
 pheus turned, not to look at Hades, but to look into the face 
 he loved so well, the sweet countenance he longed to look 
 upon. He could see only vacancy — she had dematerialized 
 before his glance. He tried to grasp and hold her, but all 
 to no purpose, for she had been taken from him. He only 
 clinched the vacant, hellish air. His sorrow was now greater 
 than ever. He realized his mistake in not living up to 
 Pluto's behest. 
 
 Orpheus from that time was soured against woman. All 
 of the beautiful maidens throughout Thrace endeavored to 
 captivate him, but he was hardened at heart. Their dancing 
 and overtures of love were made in vain. They finally saw 
 it was useless to try and win his love, so as it often does 
 with women, if their tendered affections are cast aside, 
 their love turns to hate, as it did in this case. They even 
 tried to kill him by throwing javelins at him, which always 
 fell at his feet without harming him in the least, for his 
 music acted as a shield that made him invulnerable to what- 
 ever means they would take to do him harm. 
 
 The Fates must have inspired the maidens to conjure 
 means to destroy him, for in a short while there was "le tout 
 ensemble" of Sybarite maids, intoxicated with Satyrian 
 beverages, who kept up a chorus of deafening discordance 
 — ejaculations that drowned out the sweet cadence of Or- 
 pheus' lyre, and in this way rendered him vulnerable to 
 injury. These maidens flew at him with implacable zeal, 
 and tore him limb from limb, and then cast his remains into 
 the River Hebrus, tho with all of this disfigurement he 
 continued to play his lyre, for they had cast this into the 
 river after him. He floated down the stream, playing and 
 
232 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 playing as he went. The shores of the stream were not as 
 improvident as the maids had been, for they tenderly re- 
 ciprocated his sweet appeals. His remains were taken pos- 
 session of by the Muses, who afterwards buried him at 
 Libethra, where even at this day the nightingales sing with 
 much more melody than at any other part of the globe. His 
 lyre is outlined by stars in the blue heavens, which are 
 plainly visible at times on a starlit evening. Jupiter was 
 supposed to have placed it there in memory of him. There 
 is much more that could be said of the adventures of Or- 
 pheus and Eurydice, for he had made a second visit to 
 Hades to see his beloved, but this will have to suffice for 
 lack of space. 
 
 What the poet meant to signify by Eurydice's fading 
 away at the exit to Hades, while she was within the grasp 
 of her lover Orpheus, was that she represented the fading 
 blush of dawn that is pierced by the serpent of night, and 
 Orpheus, the sun's penetrating shafts of light, following 
 her to the dark regions of shadows, where she is found, but 
 as he, or the sun's rays, encompasses her as he looks back, 
 cause her to fade before his gaze, as the shadow of the early 
 morn vanishes before the golden sheen of the rising sun. 
 
 There are many interpretations of this myth, and many 
 beautiful and delightful poems have been written on these 
 two mythological characters. See Pope's "Ode to St. Ce- 
 celia's Day," Southey's "Thalaba," Browning's "Eurydice 
 and Orpheus," and the works of William Morris; also 
 Max Muller's "Chips from a German Workshop." 
 
 NIKE, ERIS AND NOX 
 
 Nike was regarded as the Goddess of Victory, while Eris, 
 or Discord, was the Goddess of Strife. Nox was the 
 daughter of Chaos and wife of Erebus (darkness) who 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 233 
 
 bore two children, Ether (the pure air) and Hemera 
 (day) . She was regarded as one of the seven elements that 
 constituted the universe : Fire, water, earth, air, sun, moon 
 and night. She was the mysterious Goddess of the Night, 
 present during sickness and suffering. She would often 
 summon to her aid Oneiropompus, the guide of dreams, and 
 Psychopompus, the guide to Hades, who was no other than 
 Hermes (Mercury), the messenger to the gods. 
 
 Nox was supposed to have been present at all misfortunes 
 that befall mankind, such as war, murder, quarrels and 
 death. She always came out under the cover of night and 
 darkness. All that was horrifying and of formidable fore- 
 boding was supposed to have been the offspring or product 
 of this goddess. She was serious and always clothed in 
 heavy drapery. Her head was mantled with a star-spangled 
 veil. She was possessed of two black wings and carried 
 two children in her arms; one was white to personify sleep, 
 while the other was black to personify death. She some- 
 times rode in a black chariot, holding an extinguished torch 
 in her hand, with the flame end pointing to the ground. 
 She was surely the goddess of ill doings and sorrows. 
 
 PYTHAGORAS 
 
 Pythagoras was born in the sixth century before Christ, 
 on the Island of Samos, but spent the greater part of his life 
 in Corona, Italy. He was an extensive traveler, visiting 
 Egypt and all of the Far East. He devoted all of his 
 thoughts to the nature of the human soul, and while in 
 India compared his philosophy with the Brahmins, and in 
 Chaldea with the Magi, who were the wise men of those 
 countries. Pythagoras considered that numbers were the 
 foundation and essence of the entire universe. He said the 
 monad, or unit, must be the starting place of everything — 
 
234 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 all numbers increase from it. Therefore, the essence or the 
 deity is from all sources of Nature, and Nature is but the 
 unit. To illustrate: The horse, the trees, rocks and the 
 human soul are all from the same element, which is the 
 deity. This essence, or God, that is in us is polluted by the 
 body. It is purer at youth than at adult age, and purifica- 
 tion can only take place thru death, whereby the impurities 
 dissolve away and the volatile soul passes into oblivion. So 
 every living thing has some divine essence interjected into 
 its make-up. 
 
 Pythagoras maintained that when the human soul left 
 the body it held forth in the habitation of the ethereal dead, 
 where it remained until it came by natural selection to in- 
 habit another living thing — either an ox, lion, cat, or what- 
 ever the soul is eligible to inhabit. It naturally seeks, until 
 by time it is sufficiently purified, to enter its original equal. 
 The Pythagorian Theory of Transmigration of Souls was 
 the ancient Egyptian doctrine of reward and punishment, 
 whereby we make our own heaven by being pure and trans- 
 migrating to the human form instead of being impure and 
 going into the form of a bull or some other beast. This is 
 why the Pythagorians and ancient Egyptians worshipped 
 animals and would not kill them, for they were sure they 
 contained a human soul. Pythagoras had several ways of 
 expressing his doctrine. "The Harmony of the Spheres" 
 or the relation of the musical scale to numbers, whereby 
 harmony is the result of proportionate sound vibrations, 
 which is the "Karma," the good or the bad — Har- 
 mony and Discord. Pythagoras taught that in the center 
 of the universe was a great ball of fire from which heat 
 radiated to all parts ; this was the life-giving principle. This 
 great fire was surrounded by the earth, the moon and five 
 planets. Their distance apart he considered corresponded 
 in proportions to the musical scale. One planet repels, the 
 other attracts, just enough according to their size to hold 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 235 
 
 them in harmony by mutual attraction and repulsion. This 
 is the Pythagorian Harmony of Heaven, or "The Harmony 
 of the Spheres/' 
 
 THE TAJMAHAL 
 
 'Tis poetry in mason's art, 
 
 A human soul in stone. 
 If there's a heaven, this is a part 
 
 On earth alone. 
 
 The Tajmahal, the poetry of architecture, is located in 
 Agra, India, and was built by Shah Jahan, the last of the 
 Mogul Governors. It took 30,000 men thirty years to con- 
 struct this wonderful tomb at a cost of 50,000,000 pounds 
 sterling. Shah Jahan was partial to one of his beautiful 
 wives, and often said if he ever lost her he would build a 
 tomb for her that would excel anything of the kind in the 
 world. He kept his promise, for the Tajmahal is universally 
 accepted as being the most beautiful building ever con- 
 structed by the hand of man. The architect who drew the 
 plans was forced to have his arms amputated so that he 
 could not draw another that might excel or eclipse this one. 
 Poetry or prose are too weak to express the "soul" of this 
 magnificent tomb, or the human eye has never looked upon 
 anything that is more inspiring or entrancing. Looking 
 upon this tomb will inspire you with an earthly sentiment 
 and a deeper insight into the soul of man and what he really 
 can accomplish, whether he be Jew or Christian, Moham- 
 medan or Confucian, Buddhist or Shinto. 
 
 After visiting this tomb its grandeur grows in you and 
 with you. You are imbued with a feeling you can never 
 throw off. The yew and the linden trees that form a vista 
 to its steps; the diamond star granite walks beneath your 
 
236 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 feet; the song birds in the branches above, with monkeys 
 barking to the passers-by ; and the little brooks fretted with 
 pebbles to make the running waters play a tune and keep 
 time in an eternal symphony. The blocks of marble com- 
 posing the walls are cut larger and larger as they are super- 
 imposed upon each other to preserve the effect of perfect 
 proportion, for when the eye looks away or upward the 
 object appears smaller and smaller, according to the in- 
 creased distance the vision is compelled to survey. 
 
 On entering the tomb the first thing to greet the eye is 
 the cenotaph where this beautiful queen's remains were 
 laid. Screens sculptured from alabaster as fine as lace cur- 
 tains surround and enclose this sarcophagus. The acoustic 
 properties are so pronounced beneath this great dome that 
 when an E string to a violin is sounded it ascends under 
 the rotunda and back, then accentuates the tone and re- 
 peats the journey many times; finally the sound dies away 
 in the cenotaph and the last sound seems to raise the cover, 
 expel a note and close again, smothering the last vibration 
 into oblivion with her remains. All of the precious and 
 semi-precious stones are cut into the native flowers and 
 set into the marble walls. They look so real one would 
 think they could be plucked with ease for a buttonhole 
 bouquet. The stones are used according to the color re- 
 quired to picture the flower desired ; ruby for red, emerald 
 for green, lapis lazuli for violet blue, etc. The floor is 
 laid in Indian mosaic. 
 
 The cenotaph is embossed with all the precious metals, 
 and set with all of the most beautiful and expensive gems 
 that could be procured in the world. It is interesting to know 
 that the celebrated "Kohinoor" diamond was taken from 
 here, being now one of the crown jewels of Great Britain. 
 These gems were found in the Island of Ceylon, called the 
 Pearl of the Seas, for there are thirty-two valuable gems 
 mined there. The most pleasing time to visit the exterior 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 237 
 
 of this tomb is at the hour of moonlight. The moon casts 
 its sheen on this great, white dome, with the winding 
 Ganges in the distance, with the starry heavens as its back- 
 ground. All is quiet except the occasional song of the 
 nightingale on its heavenly journey, keeping time and dis- 
 tant harmony with the eternal music of the fretted brooks 
 that make a nocturnal symphony ; a symposium of mirth ; 
 a paradise of earth; a place to love and be loved. This 
 tomb of death, tho sphere of light and life — I cannot say 
 more; you must go, see, think and dream! 
 
 Tho only of stone alabaster, 
 
 Of marble, of granite, of lime, 
 The Taj of all art is the master, 
 
 The Taj a soul-frozen clime. 
 
 It speaks to the heart and it mutters 
 Words that are void to the ear, 
 
 Heart feels, for its swells and it flutters, 
 It flutters and feels for the near. 
 
 A flower that has sprung from the spirit, 
 By the hand thru the soul it has grown, 
 
 It sings to the heart that is near it, 
 It sings from a soul all its own. 
 
 Esthetics in stone and in mortar, 
 
 Wherever you go you will be 
 Enchanted by day dreams you'll loiter, 
 
 And think of the past and of thee. 
 
 When we pass thru the gates of heaven, 
 And walk up the streets and the mall, 
 
 If the scene is as scripture has given, 
 'Tis the same as the Tajmahal. 
 
238 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 THE EUMENIDES 
 
 The Eumenides, or Furiae, were the daughters of night 
 or darkness. They were the servants of Pluto and Proser- 
 pine and were stationed at the entrance of Hades. They 
 were entrusted with the duty of punishing those who had 
 committed crime on earth and had die<J in the flesh without 
 atonement. Nemesis was often employed by them to pursue 
 people who had committed some terrible crime, as Orestes 
 did of old, murdering his mother, Clytemnestra, for her un- 
 faithful attitude toward his father, Agamemnon. Clytem- 
 nestra was not to be trusted in morals as Penelope, the 
 wife of Ulysses, while the two great heroes were absent, 
 and to avenge the murder of his father, Orestes resorted to 
 this capital crime that involved him in the almost hopeless 
 pangs of the Eumenides. However, he was finally restored 
 to happiness, after he had sought the advice of an oracle 
 of Apollo from Taurus that saved him, as his sister, Ipho- 
 genia, was saved years before at this same shrine. 
 
 Eumenides seems to signify the "Well-minded God- 
 desses" who were divine instruments to punish those guilty 
 of sloth, criminal negligence of duty, breach of faith, youth- 
 ful forwardness and incorrigibility. They preserved mor- 
 ality by punishing vice and rewarding virtue, which com- 
 pelled the leaning to charity and righteousness. How true 
 it is that if one commits a crime the Eumenides, which is 
 our conscience, follow us and torment us until we are com- 
 pelled to confess our wrongs or commit suicide for relief. 
 They oftentimes keep us from committing crimes by in- 
 spiring us with foreboding fear and punishing us with im- 
 pending gloom and sorrow if we violate the divine dictates 
 of our consciences. 
 
 There are several other inferior deities I will speak of this 
 time that are surely worthy of mention. The first is 
 Momus, the God of Mopes, who inspired, as the Greeks 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 239 
 
 thought, men with apathy and indifference. This god dis- 
 liked both gods and men, with the exception of Aphrodite. 
 He complained of Prometheus, whose name is significant of 
 forethought, and his brother, Ephemephius, which is sig- 
 nificant of afterthought. He felt that Prometheus, in mak- 
 ing man, should have ma/le a window in his breast that 
 one could look within and read his thoughts. This God 
 moped and moped until he died. 
 
 THE ELEUSINIAN MYSTERIES 
 
 I have spoken of the Eleusinian mysteries in one of the 
 former chapters, but feel there is more that should be said 
 of them. In my last tour of Greece, there was nothing in 
 the country outside of Mount Olympus, or the Parnassus 
 range of mountains, and the view of the Vale of Tempe 
 that interested me as much as the little ruined City of 
 Eleusis, where the "greater Eleusinia" festival first took 
 place, far back in remote ages. It was considered by the 
 ancient Greeks and Romans to be the grandest phase of 
 their worship. Its origin is so antique and its ritual ante- 
 dates all classical antiquity, so that we are obliged to guess 
 at the first inception of its evolution into polytheistic wor- 
 ship by the Greeks. 
 
 The practice of solemnization of this cult or religion is 
 surely one of the cardinal developments of the Greeks, rising 
 to such supereminence in every phase of culture, for 
 through these mysteries they perceived life in vegetation 
 that they invested with the divine bodies and souls of two 
 goddesses, Demeter and Cora, the Greek names, while the 
 Romans called them Ceres and Proserpine. The Rape of 
 Proserpine by Pluto, the King of Hades, was the carrying 
 below of this maiden goddess, where she became Queen of 
 Hades, and her mother, Ceres, hunted the world over for 
 
240 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 her, and finally, through higher authority, it was agreed 
 that Proserpine could stay below with this Plutonian God 
 through Fall and Winter, and could come out under the 
 sun and stars of heaven and enjoy their light and the sur- 
 face of the earth in the Spring and Summer, as vegetation, 
 when it decays and goes back into the ground for part of 
 the year and comes forth young, tender and beautiful in 
 the Spring. 
 
 These mysteries caused the Greeks to look deeply into 
 their own souls. They raised their heads from their marble 
 gods to look up into the workings and phenomena of the 
 living God. This gave them life, learning, hope and happi- 
 ness. Their enthusiasm can be better imagined by reading 
 the hymns of Homer, Pindar, Plato, Socrates, Sophocles, 
 Aristophanes and many others. They were called mys- 
 teries, but there was nothing mysterious in this cult that 
 they endeavored to keep as a secret from others. There 
 was no password or symbols or signs for initiation into its 
 membership. 
 
 It was because there was a mystery that only the Gods 
 themselves knew, and in this mystery there was just enough 
 revealed to give them hope of immortality after death when 
 decomposition had thrown off the garments of flesh ; that 
 the mysterious essence, by passing through a change similar 
 to vegetation, would perpetuate the human soul as an ever- 
 lasting entity. This phase of the ancient Greek worship is 
 somewhat analogous to our own Christian worship, for in 
 the seared Fall of each year they saw death, and in Spring 
 they saw the earth crowned with new life, which was their 
 Gospel of Hope, predicting the immortality of the human 
 soul. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 241 
 
 EUROPA 
 
 Europa was the daughter of Agenor, King of Phoenecia, 
 and son of Neptune. Jupiter was greatly enamored of 
 her. It was from this character in mythology that the 
 continent of Europe was named. Her three sons, one of 
 whom I speak elsewhere, was Minos, King of Crete, and 
 who was made, after his death, a judge in Hades with his 
 brother Rhadamanthus. Some authors say she was a Prin- 
 cess of Tyre, who was carried to Crete by Taurus (which 
 means "bull"). 
 
 However, it is related that Jupiter, in the form of a bull, 
 carried her far into the continent of Europe on his back. 
 Cadmus, her brother, who was the founder of Thebes, 
 sought after her. She was the soft light of dawn that travels 
 westward as Jupiter, the bull, carries her in that direction. 
 Cadmus, her brother, represents the sun's rays that fol- 
 lowed after her. 
 
 Cadmus, son of Agenor, King of Phoenicia, while seeking 
 his sister, had strange adventures. He sowed teeth of a 
 dragon he had killed, which grew up into armed men, who 
 slew each other, except five, who helped Cadmus found the 
 City of Thebes. 
 
 PYGMALION AND THE STATUE 
 
 Pygmalion was a misogymist, a woman-hater, although 
 he was a great sculptor, which may seem like an anomaly 
 observable in the lives of many geniuses, for it would seem 
 that one who could cut from stone as perfect a figure of 
 woman as he did, that woman would have been ideal in his 
 mind. He made a beautiful statue of what was his ideal of 
 perfection in woman's physical charms. He took this 
 statue, which was life-size, with him away from all worldly 
 
242 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 life into some safe retreat in the country. The statue was 
 so perfect it seemed to blush with modesty when its beauti- 
 ful form was exposed. Pygmalion would go into his studio 
 and sit near and talk to her and caress her. 
 
 He finally fell deeply in love with her. He would often 
 feel of her pulse to see if she wasn't really alive after all. 
 At length he had become so overcome by this statue that it 
 was nothing less than worship on his part. At the time ot 
 the Festival of Venus at Cyprus, Pygmalion went hither 
 and made offering on her altar, and bid Venus to bring his 
 beautiful statue to life. Prior to his arrival, the altar of 
 Venus had smoked and caused those present to shed tears. 
 It was always an ominous sign of evil when the torch or 
 altar smoked and made the Paranymphs, Auletrides and 
 Bathyllos, who were present at weddings, shed tears. But 
 this condition of things ceased after Pygmalion arrived and 
 cast incense upon the smoldering fire, for in a moment a 
 bright blue flame arose. That was of great significance to 
 him. He went to his statue ; lo and behold ! there she was, 
 ready to receive him with human life instilled into her and 
 a heavenly soul. She was named Galatea, and afte" awhile 
 she gave birth to Paphos, and from this name the city of 
 Paphos was named, which was ever afterward sacred to 
 Venus. 
 
 THE PARCE OR FATES 
 
 The Parcse, or Fates, were three in number, and were 
 said to have been sisters, the daughters of night and dark- 
 ness. Their names were Clotho, Lachesis and Atropus. 
 Clotho, the youngest, placed the wool about the spindle, 
 which represents our growing youth and health during 
 adolescence, while Lachesis signifies the potency of ma- 
 tured manhood and womanhood. Atropus, the eldest of 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 243 
 
 the sisters, was supposed to be the one who cut the thread 
 of life. Thus we have it that one placed the wool on the 
 spindle, the other spun the wool, making the thread of life 
 strong, while the third and last cuts the thread that repre- 
 sents the last act in life's three-act drama. 
 
 Some have added Fortuna, the Goddess of Fortune, as 
 being the fourth sister. In art, the Three Fates, like the 
 Three Graces, are always together: Youth, maturity and 
 death in one group as the Fates, while the Graces are Faith, 
 Hope and Charity. 
 
 THE VOCAL MEMNON OF UPPER EGYPT 
 
 Memnon was an Ethiopian prince who went to aid the 
 Trojans in their great war. He was a brave soldier as well 
 as a blue-blooded prince. He, thru his merit and valor, 
 slew Antilochus, son of Nestor, which kept back the de- 
 structive tide of the Greek army until Achilles came forward 
 and slew him. While visiting the great Colossus of Mem- 
 non at Luxor in Upper Egypt my Cicerone dragoman ex- 
 plained to me that Aurora, his mother, had the four winds 
 bring his remains to Mysia, and after this she had a great 
 statue built, forty feet high and of proportional thickness, 
 to represent her weeping at night, with the Pleiads, over 
 the loss of her son. She also had another statue cut of the 
 same proportions, which stands on the great desert of 
 Egypt, far away from every object. This statue is supposed 
 to have sung each and every morning for many years, while 
 the other one uttered a moaning cry as the sun set each and 
 every evening. No one could fathom the source of these 
 utterances. It is a historical fact that one of them expelled 
 an audible moan, with drops of moisture flowing down and 
 out of the internal canthus of her eyes. Even now can be 
 seen a discoloration where the trickling tears have made 
 
244 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 their facial rivulets. These statues are called the "Vocal 
 Memnon" because they were said to have kept up a morn- 
 ing and evening antiphony of dual chants, to each other 
 and to the world, at the rise of the glorious golden sun over 
 the eastern sea and again at the death of the Egyptian 
 day, when it sank in the desert sands*. The heat of the 
 rising sun melted the nocturnal dew, which formed the 
 tears of Aurora on this vocal statue. 
 
 Doubt has been entertained whether Memnon was taken 
 to Mysia or far up the Nile. Mysia is in Asia Minor, near 
 the Sea of Mamora, and the statues of Memnon are in Upper 
 Egypt, near where he was supposed to have gained his 
 nativity. So it is altogether probable he was brought back 
 to Upper Egypt. While visiting the Colossus of Memnon in 
 Upper Egypt I induced my dragoman, by handing him a 
 little "backshish," to climb one of these monstrous statues 
 and pound upon it with a small stone. The sound that is- 
 sued from it is the same as that issuing from a steam boiler 
 after striking upon it with a hammer — it is a metallic sound. 
 There is not the least doubt in my mind but what I heard 
 a distinct sound of a wailing nature issue from one of these 
 statues while sitting at its feet one evening waiting for the 
 sun to go down. 
 
 The mythological interpretation of Memnon is that he 
 was King of the unknown Ethiopian race in the land of 
 gloaming and the center of the world, where the points 
 of the compass meet and, as Bullfinch says, the name signi- 
 fies "dark splendor." 
 
 For illustrative poems see Milton's "II Penseroso" and 
 Akenside's "Pleasures of the Imagination," which pictures 
 the connection of Memnon's music with spiritual truth. If 
 such manifestations are really true, as they have been 
 heralded from past ages, it is obvious proof of the im- 
 mortality of the soul. 
 
 ♦See "Pausanias, the Traveler," or "Herodotos." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 245 
 
 HERO AND LEANDER 
 
 To test the verity of the tradition that Leander swam 
 the Hellespont to see and be with his mistress, Lord By- 
 ron made the journey over the same body of water him- 
 self, by swimming from Sestos to Abydos, or from the 
 continent of Europe to the continent of Asia. It is said 
 that he proved the physical possibility of this adventure, 
 altho he admitted it to be no easy task, and that the cur- 
 rent at some hours of the day would be encountered 
 with danger. Byron was of the opinion that the sub- 
 stance of Ovid's poem was an undeniable and indubitable 
 truth, for there was no room for doubt but what a physically 
 perfect man, as Leander was supposed to have been, could 
 make this/ hazardous trip. The distance is in the neighbor- 
 hood of two miles, but it is not so much the distance as it is 
 the undercurrent that makes this journey difficult and 
 perilous. 
 
 In Andrew Lang's translation into English of Ovid's 
 "Metamorphosis" is an account given in detail by Byron 
 himself of this adventure. 
 
 Leander was very fond of Hero, who made her home 
 on the opposite shore, and in order to see her he would 
 often at the death of day make this trip across the Helles- 
 pont. One day in particular, when nature had painted the 
 water and shores a golden pink, and the elements were in 
 harmonious gladness with the golden sunset, and the fes- 
 tival of Venus was being celebrated in Sestos, he swam 
 across this stream to make obeisance to this goddess of love 
 and beauty, for he was a lover of beautiful women and 
 would be attracted to worship at the altar of one who 
 might offer him in return for his sacrifice what she had in 
 the past offered to Paris. Leander started on his long 
 swim, with Hero on the opposite shore, far up in a tower 
 where she could see each and every stroke her lover was 
 
246 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 making to force himself to her side. From. this same place 
 she had made sacrifices of turtle blood, and after which she 
 would mount the battlements and gaze across the Helles- 
 pont to throw Leander a kiss and beckon him to come to 
 her. Those who love as Leander and Hero were said 
 to have loved could not be kept apart by a simple stream of 
 water, for God is always with those who truly love. They 
 are as two gold ingots that are pure and unadulterated. 
 They can be melted into one with ease without leaving a 
 precipitate or without a recaltricant effervescence. They 
 mix and melt together into one, for like attracts like. 
 This was the case with Leander and Hero. Hero was 
 pure and chaste, and much loved by Venus, for she at- 
 tended her gardens and her altar. Leander was pre- 
 possessing and was capable of expressing his love for 
 Hero couched in such poignant terms that not even a 
 goddess would repulse him. He kissed her hands and 
 tenderly pressed them to his lips with such fervent ap- 
 peal that he won her in both body and soul. He would 
 bury his face in her golden tresses and stroke her long, 
 wavy hair that hung over her shoulders. He would kiss 
 her lips that were curved into a Cupid's bow, with white, 
 pearly teeth set in ambush back of those ruby lips. Her 
 profile was classical, with eyebrows that formed two sym- 
 metrical arches. The external and internal canthus of 
 her eyes were cut in the shape of an olive. Her eyes 
 were large, "ox" eyes, with a scintillating radiance that 
 spoke when the lips were quiet. They seemed to mirror 
 her heart and reflect the image of a pure woman's soul. 
 Her complexion was as smooth as polished ivory, with 
 a subcutaneous rosy tint that seemed to emit the vital 
 essence of love. Her form was as perfect in its curves as 
 it would be possible for nature's hand to sculpture a 
 human form. Hero had all of this, and much that goes 
 with it that pen cannot write nor can the tongue express. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 247 
 
 Leander was as perfect in all that goes toward making 
 an ideal man as she was in all that contributed in making 
 an ideal woman. She gave Leander all, and even more 
 than was hers. She gave the part that belongs to "vir- 
 tue," which is part of God. She gave the jewel that can- 
 not be returned, yet she gave it willingly. She even 
 held lighted torches that he might find his watery path 
 illuminated for him as he swam to her. Such love is 
 surely sweet. How could it have been a sin? Why 
 should society or the world look upon love as a sin? 
 Tho God must have deemed it as such, for the fatal 
 moment arrived one evening when Leander had started 
 on his last trip across the Hellespont. He had arrived 
 midway between Sestos and Abedas. The winds started 
 to blow and at every stroke Leander would make, it 
 seemed to increase the severity of the gale. The waves 
 swelled higher and higher. Neptune and Zephyr had 
 allied against him and now they had him in their malig- 
 nant grasp. Every moment was weakening him ; his 
 limbs were becoming weary. He would at intervals be- 
 come completely submerged by the angry waves ; each 
 time he arose he was rendered more and more feeble, 
 until at last he was compelled to submit to the over- 
 whelming power of Neptune. Platitudes, prayers or 
 euphemistic expressions were useless at this time, and 
 what contributed the most to make the scene a frightful 
 one was that Hero, who could descry her lover, from 
 yonder tower, who was making superhuman efforts to 
 reach her. She could see him as he became weaker and 
 weaker. She wrung her hands and offered supplications 
 to heaven to save him, and let her once more kiss his 
 tired lips. But no, his fate had been written "and what 
 is writ is writ." Leander was drowned. The "affair du 
 cour" was now to have its ignoble ending. Like Dido, 
 she could not live nor would she, for the whole world 
 
248 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 sank beneath the waves of the Hellespont; he was her 
 world, her happiness, her past, present, future and her 
 undoing. Hero followed in the footsteps of Sappho. She 
 leaped from the tower where she had seen him in his last 
 struggles to come to her. Soon the waves covered her 
 as they a moment before covered Leander, and it was a 
 moment's pleasing reflection to her to know that she would 
 at least bury herself in the same briny grave that her 
 dear heart, Leander, had but a moment before been com- 
 pelled to accept of as his final resting place. 
 
 Man's passion's a power 
 
 That will rule for the hour, 
 
 When sated 'tis conquered and tame. 
 
 It reflects on its folly 
 
 And awhile this will nolly, 
 
 But in time will falter again. 
 
 PARNASSUS, OR THE BIRTHPLACE OF 
 THE GOLDEN SPRING 
 
 Parnassus, or the Birthplace of the Golden Spring, is 
 the ineffable womb of ancient prophecy. God was first 
 seen in the lightning, the wind, elements and the golden 
 sun, and when the universe expressed its glorious glad- 
 ness thru the medium of an impersonated deity that waved 
 to earthly mortals its both smiling and frowning features 
 in the flashing lightning, and its stentorian exhortations or 
 the voice of thunder, keeping up an eternal sympathy with 
 the whistling zephyr and the roaring Boreas, directed in 
 matchless time and tune by the wand of the Olympian Jove. 
 
 Man has always tried to seek happiness and avoid misery. 
 Locke says that happiness consists in what delights the 
 mind and contents it. Misery is what discomforts and tor- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 249 
 
 ments it. So it behooves men of all ages to seek that which 
 will bring enduring happiness, and not ephemera! pleasures, 
 that are illusory and always have a sequel of misery. 
 
 The Greeks differed much from the Hindus in their wor- 
 ship of the beautiful or the metaphysical objects of the uni- 
 verse. The Hindus, as Buckel says in his "History of Civili- 
 zation/' lived near the great Himalayas, that are like unto a 
 terrible monster. The jungle of Punjab and Bengal had 
 that wild look, as do the Himalayas, that made primitive 
 man afraid of his own shadow, so he impersonated or in- 
 vested these objects of nature with a monstrous personality 
 that was abnormal and hideous in its every aspect. This 
 monster they formed in their minds. They constructed 
 statues of these allegorical deities and worshipped before 
 them. 
 
 The Shinto religion of Japan today is a perverted form 
 of Buddhism, where they write their prayers on paper, chew 
 it into a plastic wad and throw it at the hideous deity, and 
 if it sticks to it it is their belief their prayer will be answered 
 and that they have propitiated the deity. 
 
 But not so with the Greeks — they saw the beautiful in 
 all nature — they were endowed with artistic eyes. They 
 loved physical perfection in man and godly beauty in 
 nature. This produced Stoic philosophy and Zoileans. It 
 made pansophistical scholars like Plato, Archimedes and 
 Aristotle ; it made Thales, the scientist, and Solon, the father 
 of Plato. It drove these wise men of remote days to study 
 and know the laws of nature that govern the destiny of the 
 world. It brought forth a Phidias who built the Parthenon. 
 It gave such human agencies as he and Praxiteles, who 
 styled the fluted columns of Ionic and Corinthian archi- 
 tecture that support the entablature of the Parthenon and 
 the Temple of the Olympian Jove "that still edifies the 
 glorious fame of Olympian Zeus" and speaks past glories 
 of the city of the violet crown. 
 
2SO MYTHOLOGY 
 
 But, ah ! those glories have passed away as we must pass, 
 and as even stone must change. Pan is dead; Jesus of 
 Nazareth, wrapped in swaddling garments, resting in a 
 stable in Bethlehem of Judea, was the cause of his passing. 
 Pan, son of Mercury, had done his part for the world. He 
 was a god of the woods — the great god of universal nature. 
 Pan, tho he was not prepossessing in his putative per- 
 sonality, still was aggressive and pressed his suit and overt 
 manifestations of love to the wood nymphs and maidens. 
 His musical proclivities would draw them, tho his repug- 
 nant personality would repel them at sight of him. The 
 meaning of the word "panic" was handed down from the 
 obtrusive overtures and frights he so often gave to maids 
 walking thru the woodlands. He caused pandemonium 
 among them in their flight to get out of his presence.* 
 
 Pan was the god of multitudinous and diversified nature. 
 This made him eligible to be accepted as one of the para- 
 mount gods in the Pantheon of the gods. People now be- 
 gan to see, as Socrates saw centuries before, that there was 
 a living God that ruled the universe. Jesus, the long- 
 promised Messiah, had come. His apostle, Paul, had stood 
 in the shade of the Temple of Diana. He had talked to the 
 savants and sages of the Areopagus, the public court of 
 justice, founded in remote ages by Cecrops. He told them 
 of the living God; his graceful mien and decorum were 
 shafts that penetrated their soul and wounded their god, 
 Pan, who writhed in a long paroxysm of Pyrrhonistic 
 agony until his final passing. 
 
 ♦Read Mrs. Browning's "Pan Is Dead." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 251 
 
 HEAVEN 
 (Written by Anna M. Fries Chapin.) 
 
 Heaven, a vacant place where earth is floating, 
 Encircled earth by heaven everywhere. 
 
 The human race its every type devoting, 
 
 Transcendent worship and to its ruler prayer. 
 
 Instinct gives hope unto the cave man, 
 Reason gives us confidence to know; 
 
 That the word revealed is enough to save man, 
 With the Pantheon of nature's gods below. 
 
 H is for the home and children raised there; 
 
 E is for the eternal peace therein ; 
 
 A is for the Ave Marias that's sung there; 
 
 V is for the value Christ has been. 
 
 E again is that he equally loves thee ; 
 
 N is for his noble death for sin. 
 
 Put them all together, they spell heaven, 
 
 The bourn of mansions we're to enter in. 
 
 A PROPHETIC DAY DREAM AFTER READING 
 THE REVELATION OF ST. JOHN 
 
 The beast that rose from the sea with seven heads was 
 imperial Rome. The ten horns of this beast were and still 
 are the ten kingdoms of Europe, with a crown for each 
 horn, or king. Rome was the conqueror of seven states, 
 which is significant of the seven heads. Pagan Rome was 
 now Papal Rome. The lion metamorphosed itself into a 
 lamb. The dragon of the East gave birth to a new Rome, 
 
252 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 which was the Byzantine empire grafted and transformed 
 into a child of the East, born of the "City of God." When 
 the "Father" had weakened under Teutonic invasion Em- 
 peror Constantine saw the sign in the heavens, which was 
 the Holy Cross with the words "By this conquer." This 
 not only changed his belief, but stimulated him to change 
 the destiny of mankind and the world, having its initiative 
 at Melvin Bridge, which eventually gave birth to the Coun- 
 cil of Nice in Asia Minor and the Nicean Creed, settling 
 the then current heresy of Arias by anathamatizing such 
 Christian anomalies as "There was a time when God was 
 not the Father"; "Jesus both human and divine," and the 
 absurdity of transubstantiation. This ecumenical council 
 denounced Arias and established tenets in the Christian 
 liturgy that Christ was in "Ancient of Days," that he was 
 contemporaneous with God. Nearly the whole world has 
 since worshipped at Christ's altar, the protected Christian 
 shrine. Although the church has since been divided into 
 the Church of the East and of the West, still Constantine 
 has saved it from eternal dissolution. 
 
 God handed down, two swords, one for the Pope or spiritual 
 rule and one for the emperor or temporal rule. For a period 
 the three-crown diadem of the Pope would predominate and 
 domineer over the Tyrean purple gown and scepter of the 
 emperor, then the emperor would attain suzerainty over the 
 Pope and vice versa. In time, all wounds, even these, were 
 temporarily healed on the head of this beast (Rome). The 
 old sore that was caused by Teutonic tribes from beyond the 
 Rhine was bruised and contused again and again by Char- 
 lemaigne and Barbaroso, the paladines aiding and the Ghe- 
 belines injuring. The emperors of the Holy Roman empire 
 were German. This empire included Rome and the most of 
 Europe. After many mutations of this great state the Holy 
 Empire was always ruled by a German prince, with the pos- 
 sible exception of Charles V. A Prussian finally succeeded 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 253 
 
 to the rule of a united Germany. The Prussian people were 
 the last of Europe's nations to accept Christianity, and the 
 first to protest against it under their leading protagonist, 
 Luther. They were surely heathen at heart, for when the 
 crusades were being made into the Holy Lands to shield the 
 holy sepulchre from Saracen desecration, they also made cru- 
 sades into Prussia to put down their pagan and barbaric 
 modes of life and worship. The present Kaiser is the "anti- 
 Christ," the "Appolyon/ the "666" (Prince, let me say 
 through the royal line of David). His six sons are six horns 
 that grew out of him. One of these horns will be trans- 
 planted on the old sore when Kaiser Wilhelm II. is deposed 
 or abdicates the throne in favor of his son. This will be done 
 under pressure at the termination of this great war, which 
 is the Armageddon. England, France and the United States 
 (God bless their consanguinity and nepotism) are the pos- 
 terity of the lost tribes of Israel. The most representative 
 men of these nations are of the tribe of Manasseh, who are 
 to save the world from oppression. King George V. can trace 
 his genealogy back to King David. His posterity will be 
 placed on the Ottoman throne. The Sublime Porte will be 
 free to all nations. The Bosphorus and Dardenelles will be- 
 come an international waterway. Turkey will be vanquished 
 into Asiatic exile; an English prince will rule over Palestine 
 and this war will last three years and one-half. The "un- 
 clean frogs" that come from the mouth of this beast are the 
 three allies of Germany. The ten horns also represent the 
 German states that Germany proper is composed of, with her 
 allies which have had power with the beast for "an hour," their 
 ephemeral reign. They have given their power to the beast 
 (The Kaiser) which is the "one mind" that has made war 
 with the "lamb" or allies, who are lovers of peace. They 
 shall win, for they are the "Chosen and Faithful." The "won- 
 ders" that this beast has created are the bringing of fire from 
 heaven by means of the Zeppelins and airships in the "sight 
 
254 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 of men," and the "miracles" he was to create are the sub- 
 marines, which are an "image to the beast." The "mark" with 
 the name of the beast is the German coin of that name that 
 the soldiers of that cursed empire receive in their "right 
 hand" at the hour of their enlistment, the same as the Eng- 
 lish soldiers accept of the "King's shilling" on joining the 
 British army. If not for the allies the harp would be broken 
 and harmony would forever cease, and no hand would there 
 be to repair or restring the harp except God's, who will first 
 bring down plagues, pestilence, hunger and strife upon man- 
 kind, as upon the Pharaohs of old, and to save the just, time 
 will be opportune for the fulfilment of prophesy in the second 
 coming of Christ, who is to come to earth surrounded by his 
 retinue of angels and saints to punish vice and reward virtue, 
 to claim the blessed and vanquish the cursed, to save the 
 righteous and destroy the wicked. — Dr. H. L. C. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 255 
 
 A POSTHUMOUS DAUGHTER 
 
 Sketch in One Act. 
 Time — Present. Place — Any city in the United States. 
 
 CAST 
 
 Mr. Robert Lock _ - Bachelor 
 
 Miss Florence Hines Posthumous Child 
 
 Mrs. Florence Hines Assumed name, Mrs. Evens 
 
 Mary Maid and Chaperon for Miss Hines 
 
 (Curtain rises.) 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Florence Hines — Just think, you have been my — let me 
 see, what shall I call it ? O ! yes, guardian, that is, you have 
 been my protector for eighteen years; ever since I was that 
 high (illustrates height by holding forth hand). I am eighteen 
 years old today, ain't I, papa ? Think of me calling you "papa/' 
 when you are not my papa. Tho dear, you have been an awful 
 good papa to me and I — I — 
 
 Robert Lock — And you're going to kiss me, aren't you? 
 
 Florence — Yes, I'm going to kiss you, that will partly com- 
 pensate you for your sweetness of the past; won't it? (They 
 kiss.) 
 
 Robert — (Holds her hands.) Florence, you are eighteen 
 years old today and — 
 
 Florence — Yes, dear, I am of age now, and from today on 
 I will be my own boss, won't I ? I can go out into the world 
 and mingle with the elite and social elect, where I can meet 
 some nice prepossessing man and marry him. Won't that be 
 nice? 
 
 Robert — Yes, that will be very nice — nice for you and the 
 fellow. Florence do you mean that, or are you jesting with me? 
 
 Florence — No dear (Laughingly), no, I don't mean a word 
 of it, and you know I don't, don't you ? 
 
256 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Robert — No, I don't know anything when it comes to the 
 capricious acts of a woman ; they are so hard to understand. 
 
 Florence — How hard you do speak of woman. 
 
 Robert — You have never spoken of marrying until today. 
 You have surely been thinking. 
 
 Florence — (Pointing her finger.) You're jealous, you're 
 jealous. 
 
 Robert — I am sorry to say that I am. And why shouldn't I 
 be? 
 
 Florence — (Pulls her chair closer to him.) You know 
 what you have promised me so many times don't you, "papa"? 
 
 Robert — Oh ! Florence, for heaven's sake don't address me 
 with that paternal name "papa" any more. Call me Robert ; 
 just plain everyday Robert. You know you are a young lady 
 now ; besides I am not your father, and too, I — I — 
 
 Florence — (She clasps her arms about his neck.) All right, 
 dear, I won't. I'll call you Robert from now on. 
 
 Robert — That's a good girl. 
 
 Florence — Robert, Robert! I love to call you Robert. (She 
 looks steadily into his eyes.) You know that promise. Now 
 you must fulfil your promise. You told me when I arrived at 
 the age of eighteen years, you would tell me all about my 
 parents and my early life ; who my father was ; what business 
 he followed; how he died, and the same of my dear mother. 
 Oh, yes; and particularly my mother, for you have already 
 spoken to me of her queenly grace and transcendent beauty — 
 her beautiful face, hair and figure, and her extraordinary in- 
 tellect, together with her vivacity, that you said heightened 
 the brilliancy of her charming personality, and made her the 
 fairest object of creation, in your estimation of womanly per- 
 fection. Now, you can't put me off any longer ; you must tell 
 all and tell me right now. 
 
 Robert — Florence, I have always done by you as I have 
 promised, and I am going to in this case. I can tell you the 
 story of your father's noble life and ignominious ending in a 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 257 
 
 few words, but there is much more in your mother's life story 
 that is real romance than there is in your father's. However, 
 I will tell you all I know of her, but of your father first. His 
 name was Hines, Captain James Hines. He spent the greater 
 part of his time on the water, as master of different vessels, 
 and it was while in command at his post of duty that he 
 lost his life. He was master of the "Indian Prince" when she 
 was lost with all hands in a severe storm on the Bay of Biscay. 
 He was forty-five years of age, and the consensus of opinion 
 among his friends was that he was handsome. He was very 
 fond of your mother, and always claimed me as his best and 
 nearest friend, and always said if anything ever happened to 
 him that I should take care of both you and your mother, 
 which I have tried to do. 
 
 Florence — You have done it nobly ; you have been so kind. 
 But don't let me interrupt you; proceed with my mother, for 
 a daughter has an innate desire to know of her mother above 
 all others. 
 
 Robert — Your mother's maiden name was Florence Walsh. 
 You were named after her, as she was named after her mother, 
 and so on for many generations back. She was a very hand- 
 some woman, and my dear girl you would have been my 
 daughter in reality, could I have had my way, but fate decreed 
 it differently, very much to my sorrow, for I was very fond of 
 her. We were schoolmates together, and grew up together in 
 the same neighborhood. We were engaged and the day set 
 for our marriage, but on account of a little quarrel we had, 
 we broke up, and I left town for a few months and while I 
 was away, she married Mr. Hines out — I — ah — 
 
 Florence — Out of spite? 
 
 Robert — Yes, out of spite. 
 
 Florence — (Presses his hands between hers.) Poor 
 "papa" — pardon me. I mean Robert, poor Robert. How 
 your heart must have ached; I know mine would if I loved 
 
258 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 a man and he would leave me for another woman. Just to 
 think ; supposing you. O ! yes, I — go on — tell me. 
 
 Robert — My God ! (He utters beneath his breath.) My God! 
 (He places his hand over his heart.) 
 
 Florence — Why, Robert, what is the matter ? Are you ill ? 
 Shall I get you some water ? 
 
 Robert — Oh ! no, Oh ! no ; I will be all right in a minute. 
 
 Florence — Robert, what is it ? 
 
 Robert — Oh ! nothing, nothing. 
 
 Florence — Yes, it is, it is something, tell me, tell me. 
 
 Robert — It is your compassion, your sympathy, your mar- 
 velous docility, your recognition of my erstwhile sorrow. You 
 can never know how you comfort me with your soulful words. 
 
 Florence — That is my intention. 
 
 Robert — You have done much to ameliorate and appease 
 my grief, but there is room for more of your tender com- 
 miseration. 
 
 Florence — The future has — Oh ! Robert you have not told 
 me all about my mother, you must reveal all. 
 
 Robert — There is really little that remains to relate, except 
 the last few hours of her life. 
 
 Florence — That is what I desire the most of all to know. 
 
 Robert — When you were a little body, she left you in your 
 crib with Mary, the maid we have at the present time. She 
 left the house and went down town, as we have always sup- 
 posed, to do some shopping. Some one observed and after- 
 wards made known the fact that she entered the Flinn dry 
 goods store, and on this very afternoon the store took fire and 
 burned to the ground. Many lives were lost, and it has always 
 seemed reasonable to suppose that she perished, as a result of 
 this terrible catastrophe. 
 
 Florence — ( Sobs. ) How terrible — heart- rending — poor 
 mother ! 
 
 Robert — I made my home next door to your mother's house 
 at this time. In fact, I always lived near your mother, for I 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 259 
 
 could not tear myself from her, even tho she was the wife of 
 another man ; just knowing that she was near, made me happy. 
 
 Florence — I believe I can realize how you felt, for I know 
 I would feel the same as you did under the same circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Robert — Ha ! Ha ! Would you feel badly if I would marry 
 Miss Elliott, the lady that called on us yesterday P. M.? 
 
 Florence — (In an attitude of reluctance.) Why do you 
 speak of Miss Elliot? Please don't. I don't like — I believe 
 you like her, for she comes so often of late. And I don't care 
 (as she braids the tassel on the arm of her chair) she must 
 have some encouragement. 
 
 Robert — Ha! Ha! You make me laugh. You said a 
 moment ago I was jealous, now you are the one that's jealous. 
 
 Florence — No, I ain't jealous, but I — 
 
 Robert — (Catches her and presses her near to him.) Flor- 
 ence, I have something to confess, besides I have something to 
 ask. 
 
 Florence — I hope it's good. 
 
 Robert — You'll be the judge. First of all, I love you, not 
 as a father, but as a lover. I am not your father, consequently 
 there is nothing reprehensible in my words. I love you as I 
 loved your mother, yes even more than her, and I want you to 
 become my wife. Will you, Florence? Will you? Answer 
 me, answer me ! 
 
 Florence — (Folds and refolds her handkerchief. Sits 
 motionless for a moment.) Y-e-s! 
 
 Robert — (Clasps her in his arms and kisses her.) God bless 
 you, dear one. God bless you. Then you do love me beyond a 
 guardian and protector, don't you, Florence, don't you? 
 
 Florence — Yes, indeed I do and have for so long. 
 
 Robert — Will you ever tire of me on account of my age? 
 You must realize I am much your senior in years. 
 
 Florence — What has years to do with love? I will always 
 love you just the same. I am glad you are as you are, for I 
 
260 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 don't like boys or real young men, as they are so unsettled and 
 frivolous; besides, they are not as nice or as sweet and smart 
 as you are. I admire your intellect, and you are so handsome. 
 
 Robert — You have made me so happy. How bright the 
 world does seem to me! You have revolutionized my whole 
 life ; "My cup runneth over." 
 
 Mary, the maid — (Raps and enters.) Lady to see you, sir. 
 
 Robert — Who is it? 
 
 Mary — The lady that was here the other day. The lady 
 book agent, don't you remember. 
 
 Robert — Oh, yes ; I recollect I told her to come today, and I 
 would review the book at my leisure. Ask her in. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — (The book agent, enters.) I have come to 
 show you a copy of the book I spoke of, while here the other 
 day. 
 
 Robert — Be seated. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — (Stares at Florence as she opens the book.) 
 Is this your daughter? 
 
 Robert — Oh, no ! She only makes her home here with me 
 and my servants. I include the servants as part of my family, 
 because they have been with me so long and are so faithful, I 
 have grown to love them as my own. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Beautiful girl ! I would have sworn she was 
 your daughter, she resembles you so much. 
 
 Robert — Do you think so? Why she is light and I am 
 dark. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — (Turning and addressing Florence.) How 
 old may I ask ? 
 
 Florence — I am eighteen years old today. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Today, your birthday? 
 
 Florence — Yes ma'am. 
 
 Robert — Pardon me, but may I ask you — 
 
 Mrs. Evens — How long have you lived in this unusual 
 manner ? 
 
 Robert — Pardon me, madam, but why are you so interested? 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 261 
 
 Florence — (Addressing Robert.) Why, how abrupt you 
 are to the lady. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — I hope you will pardon me for my aggression. 
 
 Robert— We will proceed with the reviewal of the book, 
 for my time is limited. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — (With her eyes still pinned on the girl.) Oh, 
 yes, yes, yes. 
 
 Florence — I will leave you to yourselves if you will excuse 
 me. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — No, no ; don't go, you won't need to, there is 
 nothing but what you can hear with perfect impunity ; besides 
 I want to know you better, for I have really taken a liking to 
 you. 
 
 Robert — Well, you surely have shown that in a very short 
 while. It is really extraordinary. 
 
 Florence — Robert, you are really unkind! 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Robert, Robert ! It makes me laugh. 
 
 Robert — What makes you laugh? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — She calling you Robert. 
 
 Robert — What should she call me? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Ha, Ha ! Well, well, never mind. 
 
 Robert — You are inpertinent ! It is downright impertinence. 
 
 Florence— Why, Robert! What is the matter with you 
 today? You are so unusual. 
 
 Robert — How could I be otherwise ? 
 
 Florence — You must not — for my sake. 
 
 Robert — I don't mean to be unkind. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — / am sorry. 
 
 Florence — No harm. I will go and return later. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Thank you, be sure. 
 
 Mrs. Evens. — This is not a prospectus, it is a full sized copy 
 of the published story entitled "The Posthumous Daughter." 
 (They are sitting near each other, and she turns the leaves and 
 explains the story as she goes on.) You observe there are a 
 few illustrations. 
 
262 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Robert — I was about to remark — allegorical? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Not altogether, for it is impossible to draw a 
 picture or write a story unless there is some truth in it. 
 
 Robert — Very little I fear. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — The heroine of this story, as the title would 
 indicate, is a posthumous daughter. That is, she was born after 
 the death of her father. You say there is a very little truth, you 
 fear, but in this case there is little that isn't absolutely truth, for 
 the entire story is founded on facts. That I am sure of. 
 
 Robert — How can you be sure of its authenticity when you 
 are only a book agent? You did not write the story, so how 
 do you know ? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Just wait, don't draw your conclusions so 
 quickly. I know the author very well, and she — by the way, 
 look at this picture — that is of a ship foundering in a storm on 
 the Bay of Biscay. There you are; now that part right there 
 really happened. All of the crew were lost. The master of 
 this vessel was the father of the girl heroine of this story. 
 
 Robert — And his name — 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Let me think. It don't come to me now, but 
 just wait I'll turn back here — here it is. Hines, that's it, Hines, 
 Captain James Hines. 
 
 Robert — Hines, Hines, my — my God! My God! woman, 
 where — 
 
 Florence (enters) — Why, Robert, what has overtaken you? 
 You are pale — are you ill ? Tell me, aren't you feeling well ? 
 
 Rorert — Oh, no, no, no. I — I — It seems to be close in here. 
 
 Florence — I will open the window. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Yes, it is close in here, too close, very, very 
 close, I fear. (As she looks piercingly at Robert.) 
 
 Robert — I guess I will have to let you go, and have you 
 come some other time, for I have an appointment and the time 
 is up. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — I cannot come again. It won't take but a 
 moment, then I will go. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 263 
 
 Florence — Why, Robert, you are at home every afternoon ; 
 you did not tell me of any appointment until now. 
 
 Robert — Florence, you may leave the room for a while, I 
 will call you. 
 
 Florence — I cannot understand. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Oh, yes ; here is the artist's illustration of the 
 terrible Flinn & Co. dry goods store fire many years ago, 
 where the mother of the child was supposed to have perished. 
 
 Florence — Why, Robert, that is the same — 
 
 Robert — Florence I told you to leave the room. Now, will 
 you please do as I say. 
 
 Florence — (Apothetically makes her exit. Repeating to 
 herself.) Flinn & Co., Flinn & Co.; that is the same store. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Here next to the title page is a portrait of the 
 girl's mother when she was a young woman. 
 
 Robert — My God, woman! that is my — she is my — why, 
 I know — 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Yes, you kqow her, I guess you do, you know 
 her very well. Besides you have seen her in the flesh and very 
 lately. 
 
 Robert — Why, what do you mean ? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — I mean what I have said. 
 
 Robert — Woman, she is dead. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — How could she be dead and have written this 
 story of her life and that of her child. Don't you see the title 
 page, look here! (As she shows him.) 
 
 Robert — But others have written it. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Robert, look at me, look at me! Look well 
 and long. Don't you know me? (She removes her veil and 
 gray wig that she wore as a disguise.) Do I look as tho I 
 was dead? Dead in your heart — that is all; out of sight, out 
 of mind. What the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve 
 for. 
 
 Robert — Can I believe my own eyes? Am I beholding 
 Florence, or is it her spirit that has returned to haunt me? 
 
264 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Why, Florence ! What ? where ? when ? I don't know what to 
 ask you first. When did you come to life? Were you really 
 dead or not? My mind is awhirl. Florence, why did you? 
 Why did you — 
 
 Mrs. Evens — I know you are not glad to see me incarnated 
 again, for I am old now. Even dead people age you know, 
 ai\d you, like all men, want the young, vivacious girl! But 
 never do you mind, I am here and I am going to remain for a 
 time at least, to watch you. 
 
 Robert — Hush ! 
 
 Florence (the girl enters) — Can I come in? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — (Hurriedly replaces her disguise, and they, 
 tho very much flustrated, turn the pages of the book and talk, 
 pretending to be interested.) 
 
 Florence (the girl) — Do you think you will like the book, 
 Robert ? Why, what in the world makes you so pale ? and be- 
 sides you are so nervous. You aren't yourself this afternoon. 
 What can be the matter? 
 
 Robert — Oh ! Oh, nothing, nothing, I guess, 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Dear girl, it has reminded him of the past, 
 that's all. 
 
 Florence — I cannot understand why a simple little story 
 should affect him so. Why be so emotional over the life and 
 acts of those we know nothing of ! 
 
 Robert — Florence, must I ask you again to leave the room? 
 
 Florence — Well, for goodness' sake! (As she starts to 
 make her exit.) 
 
 Robert — (Calls to her in a low tone of voice, as she is about 
 to pass out.) Don't be provoked at me, I — I wish to be alone 
 a moment, then I will call you. 
 
 Florence — Alone! Is that it? Even then you won't be 
 alone. It is strange you don't want me to hear. Oh, Robert ! 
 can't I stay and hear? 
 
 Robert — No, please go, Florence ! 
 
 Florence — Please, please — 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 265 
 
 Robert — ( Shakes his head.) No. 
 
 Florence — Well, I suppose I must, if you say so. (As she 
 reluctantly leaves the room.) 
 
 Mrs. Evens — So you see, a bad penny always returns. 
 
 Robert — Tell me all about it. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — The terrible fright I underwent in the Flinn 
 fire in escaping from the third floor, caused what the doctors 
 called aphasia, which is either a slight pressure on or lesion of 
 the brain. This caused me to lose my own identity, and my 
 whole past was a blank to me. I wandered aimlessly away to 
 another city, where a kind body kept me for years, until her 
 physician had me taken to the hospital, where they operated 
 upon me. I believe they called it Trephining or Craniometry 
 — something like that. However, as soon as I came out from 
 under the anesthetic, I was born into myself again. My whole 
 past returned to me in a flash. This was a year ago, and since 
 then, I have written this story of my life, and what I have 
 secretly learned of yours. Robert, I still love you, and you well 
 know I have always loved you, altho you know how you have 
 used me in the past. 
 
 Robert — You have surely changed — 
 
 Mrs. Evens — O, I realize I am not handsome any more and 
 that my days of romance are at an end. 
 
 Robert — You know you have no hold — 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Yes, I know I have no hold on you. I know 
 we were never married. But I nevertheless feel I am your 
 wife by natural rights. Because before I became the wife of 
 Captain Hines, you robbed me of that which is dearest to 
 womankind. 
 
 Robert — That same old comeback. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — How heartless! You know I gave you all 
 because you promised me you would marry me. But instead, 
 you left me and wrote me a note saying you had gone to leave 
 me forever. You know very well you did that, thinking of 
 course, I would find recourse in the next best thing that fate 
 
266 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 offered, which was to marry Captain Hines. You only did this 
 to get rid of me; you knew very well I never loved him, tho 
 he was a good man. 
 
 Robert — You should be satisfied then, don't you think? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Why weren't you satisfied to stay away from 
 me after I was married? But no, as soon as you were informed 
 that I was nicely settled then you returned and made frequent 
 calls on me in Captain Hines' absence. The rest you know; 
 if you do not, I will refresh your memory. 
 
 (A noise is heard at the door.) 
 
 Robert — Don't talk so loud. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Why should I care? The world shall know 
 the truth. 
 
 Robert — Well, then, what did you come here for to taunt 
 me ? Go tell the; world ! 
 
 Mrs. Evens — I came first to have you make restitution for 
 the past and in that way obviate disgrace. 
 
 Robert — How could we if we so desired? You have pub- 
 lished that infernal book. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — The world can never judge from this book, 
 for I have written it so the real characters can only be identi- 
 fied by my giving the newspapers a laconic review. 
 
 Robert — Oh, is that so? How cunr\ing of you. Florence, 
 I don't see why you should come here at this late day, unless 
 it is to ruin my happiness. Why did you not stay away as 
 Enoch Arden did in Tennyson's poem. Florence, you are dead 
 to me. There is no Florence. She has gone from my heart 
 forever. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Florence, you say; stop and think if there 
 isn't a Florence that is very much alive in your cruel heart — 
 one that has grown up under your doubtful guidance. 
 
 Robert — Florence? What Florence? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — The Florence that I am going to help you 
 protect from this day on. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 267 
 
 Robert — Help me protect ! You help me ? What have you 
 to do — 
 
 Mrs. Evens — You forget that I am her real mother, don't 
 you, and what is more, you are her real father, and not Captain 
 Hines ! 
 
 Robert — Absolutely ridiculous — preposterous, impossible ! 
 
 Mrs. Evens — I swear before God it is the truth. 
 
 Robert — Unreasonable ! How do you make it so ? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — If you remember, I told you of the Captain's 
 return home in August of the first year of my wedded life ; you 
 recollect me telling you that, do you not? 
 
 Robert — I do, but what of that ? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — You also remember of me informing you that 
 he would be home but two or three days at the most, don't you ? 
 
 Robert — Well ? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — He did not come as expected. In fact he never 
 came, for he was lost as you well know. 
 
 Robert — Well, what of that? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — You also recollect of my informing you that 
 his company sent him a wireless message informing him to 
 proceed to Cardiff, Wales, for a cargo of coal that he was to 
 take to Cadiz, Spain ? 
 
 Robert — Yes. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Well, then that must be clear to you now ; for 
 in crossing the Bay of Biscay, the ship was lost. Don't you 
 remember ? 
 
 Robert — Yes, I remember. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Then stop and think for a moment. 
 
 Robert — (Sits and thinks.) My God, woman! You are 
 right — you are right ! 
 
 Mrs. Evens — She is our daughter. 
 
 Robert — (Bursts out crying.) Yes, she is my daughter, 
 but I am sorry, I am sorry both for her and myself. 
 
 Florence — (Enters.) I am not going to stay away any 
 
268 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 longer. You can explain the book to me too. I like good 
 stories as well as anyone. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — (Adjusts her disguise.) Yes, dear girl, you 
 may come in, as far as I am concerned. 
 
 Robert — Not a word to Florence! Leave that to me, for 
 God's sake ! 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Well, I must be going. It is getting late. ( She 
 whispers to Robert.) I will be here soon again. (Mrs. Evens 
 takes the girl's hand in her's, and with the other, strokes back 
 her beautiful hair and kisses her on her forehead as she says 
 in a low tone) Goodbye, dear. (Then with an audible sigh she 
 turns and leaves the room.) 
 
 Florence — Why, Robert, what in the wide world can all 
 this mean? What strange actions I have seen in the last 
 hour in both of you. She must be insane. Who is she any- 
 way? Do you know her? Where did she come from? Why 
 is she so interested ? You were right about her unusual inter- 
 est. Why does she manifest such interest, Robert? Why 
 Robert, how funny you look ; you are as white as a ghost. The 
 perspiration stands in great beads on your forehead. What 
 did she say to you that has wounded your dear heart so ? Tell 
 me. Did she hurt your feelings ? That mean, horrid old thing. 
 I hate her ! 
 
 Robert — Tut, tut! Florence, don't — don't say that. You 
 must not, you must not. 
 
 Florence — But I shall ! I hate her — she has hurt your feel- 
 ings. I don't want to see her again. If she comes I will slam 
 the door in her — 
 
 Robert — No, now, Florence ! You must not talk that way. 
 You don't know. (He looks to the floor.) 
 
 Florence — Robert, you have changed so much in the last 
 hour ; you are so cold and cross to me. What is the matter ? 
 Look up, Robert, look up at me. What have I done or said? 
 Don't you love me any more? (No answer.) O, dear, O dear 
 me ! Robert, look up, look up ; take me in your arms ; kiss me, 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 269 
 
 love me, I am yours. (Robert still sits and stares at the floor.) 
 Oh, my heart, I will die, I will die ; I'll kill myself. I'll commit 
 suicide ; I don't want to live any longer. You don't love me. 
 
 (She wrings her hands and dishevels her hair and walks up 
 and down the room sobbing.) I'll lose my mind; I'll throw 
 myself in the river, if you don't love me or care for me any 
 more. 
 
 (She shrieks and shrieks until she falls, and Robert catches 
 her as she falls into a dead faint.) 
 
 Robert— Florence, speak to me, speak to me ! My God ! 
 she has fainted. (He dips his handkerchief into a pitcher of 
 water that is near by on the table and dampens her face.) 
 Florence, I love you, I love you ! Dear, you are all right now, 
 aren't you? I love you, I love you, believe me, believe me! 
 (He kisses her.) 
 
 Florence — Robert, why have you been so cold to me ? 
 
 Robert — Dear, you don't understand. I cannot tell you, I 
 cannot, I cannot! 
 
 Florence — You must tell me, you must ! 
 
 Robert — I am so sad — my heart is so heavy. 
 
 Florence — Why are you sad ? What is it? Tell me. You 
 shouldn't be, you have me, I love you, we are both well. Oh, 
 I can see; I see it all now. You have recognized that horrid 
 thing; she is some woman you love or have loved, and you 
 still love her. That's why you don't want me to say hard things 
 about her. I hate her! I hate her! so there — If you like 
 her better than you do me, then you take — 
 
 Robert — Her, take her you mean ! Why, Florence, can you 
 give me up that easy ? Florence, can you ? 
 
 Florence— No, (As she falls back on his shoulder) no, no, 
 I can never give you up for anyone. I love you too much to 
 part with you. But, Robert, tell me all. Why did you make 
 me leave the room ? And who is she, and what did she want ? 
 That old book had nothing to do with her call, did it? She 
 
270 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 used that to dissemble her real object. Tell me why she came, 
 will you? 
 
 Robert — Darling, listen to me. Suppose you were my real 
 daughter, my own flesh and blood, and you would have to 
 always remain just as a daughter should to her father, would 
 you like that? Would that please you? 
 
 Florence — But I am not your daughter. 
 
 Robert — Now, you just wait — answer my question. 
 
 Florence — (She meditates for a while.) Why do you 
 ask me this question? I can never be nor never want to be 
 your daughter. I want to be your — your — 
 
 Robert — Wife, is that it ? 
 
 Florence — Yes, that is it. (As she falls onto his shoulder.) 
 I want to be your wife for all time to come. 
 
 Robert — (Bursts out crying.) That can never be, that can 
 never be, for I have just learned that you are my own child, 
 my own, my own ! 
 
 Florence — Your child? 
 
 Robert — Yes, dear, and that woman that just left here is 
 your mother. It is hard for me to say, but it is the actual truth. 
 
 Florence — (Sits and studies a moment.) Can it be possible? 
 Robert, do you want it that way ? 
 
 Robert — No, no, indeed no, that is why I am so sad. Can't 
 you see? It nearly kills me to know that things are as they 
 are. 
 
 Florence — I don't care, I think it's terrible. Why did that 
 have to be? If we could have never known, what difference 
 would it have made? It just goes to show what people don't 
 know won't hurt them. Ignorance is really bliss after all; 
 there is so much in the mind, why not pretend we don't 
 know? 
 
 Robert — Dear girl, you make me laugh, even with all my 
 sorrow. We are surely in hard luck. "It is folly to be wise." 
 
 Florence — It surely is in this case. I don't care ; I am not 
 going to have it that way. You are not my father; I am just 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 271 
 
 your own dear Florence, so there! Besides, we are going to 
 be married, aren't we Robert, aren't we ? 
 
 Robert — Impossible ! 
 
 Florence — Why ? 
 
 Robert — How can we? Why, Florence, haven't you a 
 funny feeling towards me now? Hasn't your heart taken on 
 a different attitude towards me since you have learned this? 
 Tell me. 
 
 Florence — No, no, not in the least. I feel just as I always 
 have. I love you the same; besides, I feel there is some 
 mistake. I don't believe what this horrid woman said to you 
 today, for if I was really your daughter I would feel dif- 
 ferently. My heart would naturally change, and the will could 
 not control it either. As soon as I was made aware of the 
 fact you would be repulsive to me in every phase of affection 
 but fatherly affection, and you would feel the same towards 
 me. God has arranged those things and we have nothing to 
 do with them. 
 
 Robert — What a psychologist you are getting to be. Your 
 hypothesis is really logical. 
 
 Florence — No, dear, I don't believe it, for I don't feel 
 changed at heart in the least, do you ? 
 
 Robert — I can't answer that question just yet. Give me 
 time, give me time. I wish I could feel easy about it, but I 
 cannot. You know, Florence, that consanguinity prohibits 
 marriage. The law does not allow it. It is called incest. 
 
 Florence — Shoot the law! That was made by man, and 
 our love was made by God. 
 
 Robert — But the majority of men's voices made the law, 
 and the voice of the people is said to be the voice of God. 
 
 Florence — But we aren't related, I tell you; we aren't, we 
 aren't, we aren't! I can feel it in my heart. We can go a 
 way off somewhere, where no one knows us and be together 
 all our days. 
 
 Robert — Platonic love you mean, don't you? 
 
272 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Florence — Platonic love, what is that? 
 
 Robert — That is when two love as we do, and they mutually 
 agree to live together under one roof, eat at the same table, 
 love each other, ride out together, sit and read to each other, 
 hug and kiss each other, and you have your sleeping apart- 
 ments and I have mine, and when the nighttime arrives, you 
 go to your couch to rest and I go to mine, and we are not to 
 see each other until breakfast time. How would you like that ? 
 
 Florence — (Smiles, and looks to the floor, meditating.) 
 Oh, I don't know. I guess that would be all right. Did any- 
 one ever do that ? 
 
 Robert — Ha! Ha! You don't know what to say, do you 
 dear? 
 
 Florence — I'll tell you, we will do that way if we can't do 
 any better, won't we ? 
 
 Robert — I don't know ; I don't know, I am dum founded. 
 
 Florence — We have already had Pla — what do you call it? 
 
 Robert — Platonic. 
 
 Florence — Yes, platonic love, for we have lived together 
 all of these years. I don't see where there is any harm in it, 
 do you? We would only continue doing what we have been 
 doing. 
 
 Robert — My dear, innocent, unsophisticated girl. There was 
 never another like you. You know so little of the world, for 
 which I am very glad. 
 
 Florence — No, I don't know much, I guess. I feel I am 
 awfully green, but I don't want to know about anything or 
 anybody but you. Just you, you, you, you ! 
 
 Mrs. Evens — (Rushes in.) I forgot my gloves. (She stoops 
 and picks them up.) 
 
 Florence — Here's your book too. (As Florence hands it to 
 her.) 
 
 Mrs. Evens — No, I don't care for the book ; it has done its 
 work, let it rest. (Looks at Robert with a poignant glance.) I 
 suspect something! (In a low tone of voice.) I can see it in 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 273 
 
 your every attitude toward this girl of mine, my daughter and 
 your daughter. I hope you are not thinking or contemplating 
 marrying her ! 
 
 Florence — Why not? I love him and he loves me. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Love him, my God, love him ! You mean as 
 a daughter? 
 
 Florence — I mean as his fiancee. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Ridiculous, absurd! Robert, how can you 
 think of such a thing or allow her to? 
 
 Florence — But I know he is not my father. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — You know, how do you know? Can you re- 
 member when you were born ? 
 
 Florence — Something better than memory. 
 
 Robert — (Fortuitously picks up the book that is nearby on 
 the table and opens it inadvertently.) Here, what is this? 
 What do you mean by this? You say there was doubt about 
 the real identity of the child, Florence, on account of the care- 
 lessness of a nurse while you were in the hospital, shortly after 
 giving birth to the child. That is a falsehood. You were 
 never in a hospital at that time, and if that was false, the rest 
 is all your own fragile fabric ! Now I have you ! "Truth is 
 mighty, and must prevail !" 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Indeed, I was in a hospital and I can prove it, 
 for there is one in this very house I can prove it by. 
 
 Robert — Who is that, the girl? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — No, not the girl, of course not. 
 
 Robert — Who then? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Mary, your maid. 
 
 Robert — Mary, come here a moment. 
 
 (Mary enters.) 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Mary, do you remember me ? 
 
 Mary — (Looks at her for a moment.) Why yes, you are 
 Mrs. Captain Hines. Why, how do you do? Where have you 
 been? I thought you were dead. I can hardly believe my 
 eyes. 
 
274 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Mrs. Evens — No, I am very much alive. Mary, who was my 
 nurse while I was in< the City Hospital, when I gave birth to 
 this child here? 
 
 Mary — To this child? Why, let me think. Why yes, you 
 had two nurses when you were there, Madam, Mrs. Brown and 
 myself. I was second nurse. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — There, Mr. Robert, I have proved my asser- 
 tions! I always speak and write the truth, the whole truth, 
 and nothing but the truth. 
 
 Robert — O, you do, do you? 
 
 Mrs. Evens — It was you, Mary, who carried this baby to 
 the baby's ward and back to me several times each day. And 
 you remember I gave you a pink ribbon to tie about the baby's 
 arm so you would not get her mixed up with the rest of the 
 babies and bring me the wrong one. You remember that, don't 
 you, Mary? 
 
 (Mary begins to swoon and faint.) 
 
 Robert — What! Why, Mary, what is the matter? Get 
 some water, she is in a faint. (Dampens her face and she re- 
 vives.) 
 
 Robert — What made you faint ? Are you ill ? 
 
 Florence — There is surely some significance to this. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Why were you so overcome, Mary? What 
 did I say that caused you to faint? I don't understand why 
 you should faint, I am sure. 
 
 Mary — I am a good Catholic. Oh ! my confessions ! Father 
 Dufify said I should confess all. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — Confess all — all of what? 
 
 Mary — I was over-persuaded. Oh ! I can't tell it. I can't 
 tell it, I can't, I can't ! 
 
 Florence — God is beginning to let the light shine through 
 the clouds, Robert. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — You silly, lovesick girl ! In love with your 
 father — how ridiculous! 
 
 Mary — No, no, he is not her father, no more than I am. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 275 
 
 No, no. Nor are you her mother. I did it ; I did it. I am to 
 blame. I tied the ribbon to another child that was not yours. 
 I did it to please the other nurse, for she said your child would 
 not live, and this one was healthy, and you would never know, 
 and besides, you would not have to mourn the loss of your 
 child if I would do this. Oh ! forgive me, do forgive me ! 
 
 Mrs. Evens — My God, woman ! Why did you do it ? Why 
 did you do it? My life is a failure; all is lost, all is lost! 
 
 Mary — I did it to save you the sorrow that I knew you 
 would have if the child died, which really happened shortly 
 after. I felt what you did not know, would not hurt you. 
 
 Mrs. Evens — But I do know it now, and it surely hurts me 
 more than if I had buried my baby, for now they are both dead 
 and both buried, as far as my heart is concerned, and oh! if 
 I could only lie beside my own little one, for there is nothing 
 left! 
 
 Florence — God has been good to me. God bless you, Mary, 
 for your unconscious aid. You will be forgiven, for you 
 have — 
 
 Robert — You have put two souls together. God always 
 finds a way for those who really love, for we love each other 
 and (as they embrace each other) we are going to marry. 
 
 Florence — Robert, dear, I told you all the time we were not 
 related. Now we will be so happy, won't we ? 
 
 Robert — Yes, dear. How could we be otherwise? (As 
 they embrace each other, Mrs. Evens falls in a faint.) 
 
 (CURTAIN) 
 
276 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 IF HE WILL GIVE ME YOU 
 
 God's knighted me with blessings, 
 I've surely had my share 
 
 Of gold and earth's possessions 
 To travel everywhere. 
 
 He made me strong and healthy, 
 On wholesome food was fed, 
 
 In wisdom made me wealthy, 
 In college had me bred. 
 
 He inspired my soul with duty 
 To fear both Him and shame, 
 
 He gave my person beauty, 
 My works immortal fame. 
 
 He made me think of others, 
 He helped me others feed, 
 
 He knew I'd aid my brothers 
 If I would never need. 
 
 He gave to me a mother, 
 With tenderness endowed, 
 
 A sister and a brother, 
 
 And father of whom I'm proud. 
 
 He gave me farms and tools, 
 Horses, cows and doves, 
 
 He gave me gems and jewels, 
 And all but one that loves. 
 
 He inspired me with aesthetics, 
 In literature and art, 
 And philosophies, dialectics, 
 With classics known by heart. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 277 
 
 He made me tall and graceful, 
 
 With prepossessing face, 
 In sartorial de rigueur tasteful, 
 
 In deportment gave me grace. 
 
 He made my life a story, 
 
 He let me taste of love, 
 He let me feel its glory, 
 
 Both here and up above. 
 
 He sent me to each nation, 
 
 Under every flag unfurled, 
 I viewed of his creation, 
 
 The wonders of the world. 
 
 With all that he has given, 
 
 With all that he has done, 
 Tho earth has been a heaven, 
 
 I'd give it all for one. 
 
 If he would only proffer, 
 
 The soul I love so true, 
 With joy 'twould fill heart's coffer, 
 
 If he will give me you. 
 
278 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 I AM YOUR INNES, DEAR 
 Chapter I 
 
 It was Saturday P. M., and the sun was just dipping its 
 crest into the sea, when Francis Brooks, while on his after- 
 noon walk back through the lane and wold to the crossroad 
 that leads to the village, met Innes Dorcy,a peasant's daugh- 
 ter, who made her home on a small farm near by with her 
 father. Innes was dressed like a typical peasant girl, but 
 she was very different in individuality from the ordinary 
 rank and file of peasant, girls. 
 
 She was endowed with many redeeming features, both 
 physically and mentally; she was demure and unassuming, 
 meek and submissive, yet vivacious and fastidious in her 
 unsophisticated tastes. She loved nature and books; she 
 used the objective mind and the subjective soul, and medi- 
 tated deeply, while alone in her sequestered moments of ap- 
 parent apathetic pensiveness, on subjects that were of a 
 deeper strata than was really congruous to a mind so young. 
 She was charitable to the needy, subservient to her su- 
 periors, courteous to her friends and obedient to her parents. 
 Her bearing, though a country girl, was queenly and grace- 
 ful. Her conversational ability was strikingly engaging. 
 She possessed dark-brown eyes and hair; her complexion 
 was of the lily and the rose. Her pearly teeth were set in 
 ambush back of a pair of Cupid's bow, pigeon-blood, ruby 
 lips. She had a classical profile and arched eyebrows. The 
 contour of her chin contributed toward making her withal a 
 subject of classical beauty. 
 
 Mr. Brooks had often passed her little home, and had 
 often observed her about the premises, but until now had 
 never been fortunate enough to meet her face to face that 
 he might speak with her. Francis Brooks made his home 
 in the city, where he practiced medicine and surgery. He 
 was getting to be known as a very proficient surgeon, al- 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 279 
 
 though but 28 years of age. His father and mother had 
 died and left him a large estate in fee simple, which was 
 more than a competence. At different intervals he would 
 visit the country for a few weeks, just as a change to rejuve- 
 nate and instil new life into him that he might return to the 
 city with new vim and vigor to practice his profession. 
 Francis was of strong physique, weighing 175 pounds, six 
 feet tall, and had dark hair and eyes and well-formed fea- 
 tures. The consensus of opinion among his friends was 
 that he was handsome. 
 
 Francis, being the first to speak, said "Good afternoon, 
 lady ; what a perfect day, and how beautiful it is ending/' 
 
 "Yes, indeed, it surely is a perfect day both for the body 
 and the soul," Innes answered. 
 
 This answer had such a psychological ring, and coming 
 from a young girl, and peasant girl at that, struck Francis 
 with such overwhelming force that for a moment he was 
 completely overcome. After the lapse of a moment and he 
 had regained his mental equilibrium, he began to converse 
 with her. 
 
 "Soul, you say ! Dear girl, are you not speaking of some- 
 thing you know not of?" 
 
 Francis asked this question to draw her out, that he might 
 fathom the depths of her obviously inspired wisdom, and 
 to find the drift of her young, yet phenomenal mind. 
 
 Innes said, "To answer your question, sir, I must ask 
 one, and that is — tell me, what does any one of us know 
 above the other about the human soul or life?" 
 
 "Very little, I fear," Francis answered. 
 
 "Well, then, we all have an equal right to form our own 
 opinion, though it may seem vague and puerile to others." 
 
 "You are right, you are right. Again may I ask you 
 what your opinion is of the universe and the cosmic vagaries 
 of the planets? Do you agree with the Ptolemaic or the 
 Copernician theory and principles of the universe?" 
 
 "As far as the movements of the planets, I think there is 
 
280 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 not the slightest adumbration of doubt in the Copernican 
 theory, nor do I doubt Newton's atomic theory. I have 
 perused his El Principia with avidity, and from the two 
 great men I have made my own deductions and have evolved 
 my own cosmic theories, and if you care to hear me relate 
 my opinion or principles of the universe I will gladly draw 
 a chart of the universe here in the sand, and we can use 
 these eggs I have in my basket to represent the heavenly 
 bodies/' 
 
 "Indeed, I will be so interested to have you instruct me 
 as to your ideas of the heavenly spheres and their move- 
 ments, " answered Francis. "And, too, I would be pleased 
 to have you relate what you think feeds the sun with fuel 
 that it may perpetually throw out its light and warmth on 
 the^ planets that nourish vegetation and life of all kinds." 
 
 "The sun and the phenomena of its functions come in 
 conjunction with my theory; in explaining one I ex- 
 plain the other," replied Innes. 
 
 "Why not go over to that little sand pit, where I can 
 draw a chart in the sand and, too, there are some stones 
 nearby that we can use for seats that will make us more 
 comfortable?" 
 
 "A good idea," Francis answered. 
 
 As they walked toward the sand pit it seemed almost 
 ridiculously clever to Francis that a girl, although developed 
 into womanhood, would have ever given her time to heav- 
 enly contemplation, for she was the first one he had ever 
 heard of in the "female of the species" that was decidedly 
 feminine in every tendency that had resorted to scientific 
 research as a last recourse to fortify herself against dying 
 of loneliness in the country. But this maiden, that was even 
 now a personified Psyche, astonished him. They reached 
 the sand pit and sat down on the stones opposite each 
 other, and she proceeded to sketch a chart of the heavens in 
 the sand and place the eggs to represent the sun and 
 planets in their respective positions. 
 
1 nnes Drawing Her Chart of the Heavens at the 
 Trysting Place 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 281 
 
 This was her description.: 
 
 "The sun is caused by friction; it is the planets that 
 make the sun, not the sun that makes the planets; as you 
 well know, if it were not for the atoms in space, light would 
 not be perceptible, neither natural nor artificial. They are 
 a medium for reflecting the refractory rays of the sun; that 
 is one purpose they serve. Another is that they are identical 
 in infinite use to the brush near the revolving cylinder of 
 a dynamo — infinite use, for this is what causes the friction. 
 The planets and their satellites correspond to the cylinders 
 of the dynamo. The atoms of infinitude are the brush that 
 comes in contact with the planet 'cylinders/ Is that clear 
 to you ?" 
 
 "Your description is vivid," Francis retorted. 
 
 "Then I will proceed further. You readily see that the 
 movements of the planets and their satellites, which travel 
 through space at almost unbelievable speed, cause friction 
 between the bodies of heaven and the atoms. This fric- 
 tion is the direct cause of an electric current of immense 
 volume. This current passes into inertia, where there is 
 very little oxygen and very little gravity, except the chem- 
 ical gravity of the sun as within the incandescent light bulb. 
 This space of inertia leads on through channels of inertia 
 between the other planets of the same system and their 
 satellites, until it enters the central sphere of the universe 
 or the sun. The same as the spark of light between the two 
 carbon poles of the arc light — and just as long as these 
 planets move and cause this friction, just that long will 
 there be a sun to this and other planetary systems. The 
 sun's vibration and movements, which are slight, are caused 
 by the planets changing their orbits slightly or by their 
 leaving their tracks, due to their immense speed. This 
 changes the position of all to a degree ; consequently, it 
 must change the sun that is caused by them. It is the same 
 as with the marbles. If you bunch marbles and roll one 
 against one of the bunch its impetuosity affects them all. The 
 
282 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 planets are held in position by attraction and repulsion of 
 one planet to the other, and from one system to the other, 
 and we do not perceive the changing attitude of the earth 
 that necessarily leaves us part of the time with our heads 
 hanging downward. The reason we do not notice this is 
 not because of gravity, for gravity only holds us to the 
 earth. It is the infinite oneness or unity. The earth has 
 no corresponding sphere to compute its position from, while 
 all things on the earth must be computed in relation to the 
 earth, whereas you can see the earth is infinite and alone; 
 consequently, there is no north, south, east nor west, ups 
 or downs to infinitude. So there being no points to the 
 compass of oblivion, how can we realize our position on a 
 body in oblivion? 
 
 "In the beginning I spoke of the planets making the sun, 
 and not the sun the planets. It is the same with the people 
 of the earth and their God. God does not make mankind, 
 mankind makes God, as we make a great and good nation or 
 government. A good, intelligent, moral race of people have 
 rendered themselves fit to select one of their number for 
 President or Chief Magistrate of their nation, and the 
 moral and intellectual attributes of the representative men 
 of the people support the upper and lower Houses of Con- 
 gress. It is the same with our God. The better the in- 
 habitants of the world, the better the God over the inhabi- 
 tants of that world. A prayer is never lost. A good deed 
 never dies. Every little good each of us does contributes 
 just that much toward building a better God. And the 
 better the God the better He can help us. It is the same 
 with the planets and the sun. The sun, let me repeat, is 
 only the shadow of God. This is my description as near as 
 I can show you with these eggs and the sand." 
 
 "Well, well, I am completely overcome by your meta- 
 physics and your unique conception of the universe. You 
 are surely a female Galileo or Herschel. Your idea of the 
 sun is so plausible and logical in theory that the world's 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 283 
 
 savants should know of it. It should be promulgated to all 
 the world and mankind. You know I think you are wonder- 
 ful, anyway. Little did I ever think I would be fortunate 
 enough to meet a girl of your makeup and one inspired with 
 almost pansophyical knowledge out here in the country." 
 
 "I am sure I am not wonderful/' she retorted. "Still, I 
 will say wonderful people often spring from the country 
 and sequestered, out-of-the-way places. Think of Lincoln, 
 Garfield, Edison, Catharine, Czarina of Russia, the peasant 
 wife of Peter the Great; also Napoleon the First, who was 
 born and bred at Ajaccio on the island of Corsica of subaltern 
 parentage, who was raised in frugality, yet obtained empire 
 and renown. God is capricious and freaky in bringing forth 
 great men from out-of-the-way places, still I can never be 
 great, for I do not possess the mental caliber and propensities 
 that are indigenous to the great, and besides, my academic 
 education has been so neglected. I do not expect to ever 
 even try to acquire fame and renown. However, I find 
 solace in my sadness oftentimes in just meditating on the 
 secrets of nature and of God. I do it as a pleasure and not 
 for a purpose." 
 
 "You are wonderful, and it is obvious in my mind/' re- 
 joined Francis, "that you will be universally known some 
 day, and I have become fond of you in this short meeting. 
 I am a professional man, but I am going to come to you for 
 enlightenment, for my knowledge is from books and yours 
 is inspired direct from God. You would have been an 
 avatar had you lived in Hindustan in ancient times, al- 
 though you are a maiden. They would have classed you as 
 one of their trinity." 
 
 "No, no, I am only a pigmy. I feel so insignificant when 
 I look about at the great works of the Omniscient Mind 
 and the Omnipotent Power that rules and guides the des- 
 tiny of mankind and the world." 
 
 "You need not think that way of yourself, for you are 
 great and beautiful," Francis rejoined. "Your personality 
 
284 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 is so overwhelming, your thoughts so transcendent, and 
 your meditations so holy you have completely won my 
 heart; dear girl, I love you, I love you/' (At this he ab- 
 ruptly approached her.) 
 
 "No, no, don't touch me. You must keep your place if 
 you are to retain my friendship, for you are from the city 
 and should know by custom and natural sequence social 
 ethics and the proper attitude toward new-made friends. I 
 am aware that I have made a breach in the rules of social 
 ethics and have stepped from the path of propriety in al- 
 lowing you to speak with me without being presented by 
 someone who knows us both. But I thought there would 
 be nothing really reprehensible in allowing you to at least 
 speak a while with me, not thinking that you would, on such 
 short acquaintance, press your suit. That, I well know, is 
 both inopportune and premature, which lends evidence of 
 its not being an honorable one." 
 
 "My dear girl," spoke Francis, "how you do repulse me ! 
 I am sure I have not infringed upon the laws of conven- 
 tionality or aesthetic conduct, nor have I done other than was 
 compatible to the environment, for it is universally accepted 
 that if two chance to meet in the country, away from all 
 others that might serve to introduce them, they are allowed 
 to be introduced to each other at the crossroads by Hecate, 
 the spirit of loneliness." 
 
 "That is just why I allowed you to speak to me," replied 
 Innes. "But after becoming somewhat acquainted I did 
 not expect you to do as it is related the Satyrs did of old, or 
 as the Roman Fauns and the Greek Pan." 
 
 "How unkind of you to class me with the Satyrs and 
 Fauns. I wish now I had never met you, for I told you the 
 truth when I told you what I did, and I shall never retract 
 or abrogate my words in the least. If you desire me to leave 
 you at once, that I will do, and, too, if you wish me to never 
 speak with you again, I will comply with your wish. But I 
 am driven to tell the truth. My lips are requirent to my 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 285 
 
 heart, and, as many of the old Greek philosophers believed 
 that the soul of man was in the heart and spirit in the 
 mind, which I believe is true, for if one is in love they 
 feel it in their heart, not in their mind, as in unrequited 
 love it is the heart that breaks. No one ever heard of the 
 mind breaking. I love you, I repeat, which is the truth, the 
 whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. 
 Do with me as you wish. I will do as you say. Speak your 
 verdict." 
 
 "I will not be that hard on you," Innes retorted. "You 
 must always speak to me, but remember, though I am a 
 peasant's daughter you must treat me with the same moral 
 and social solicitude and dignity that you wish your sister 
 treated or that you would show your city friends. That 
 is all I ask of you. By your last few words that you used 
 to express the nobleness of your desire to please me even 
 at your heart's peril and jeopardy, I can judge from that 
 alone you are worthy of one's friendship, so I will condone 
 and excuse you for your impromptu and overt manifesta- 
 tion of love." 
 
 "I thank you so much. It is so sweet of you," he re- 
 peated. "I was sure I had lost you through my fondness 
 for you, as Apollo lost Daphne by following her around the 
 world with so much assiduity until she was changed into a 
 laurel tree, as you would have been changed into only 
 thoughts of this perfect day, that I should have ever worn 
 as my crown of celibacy, as Apollo wore the laurel as his 
 crown of fondness and victory." 
 
 At this they parted with a pleasant and sweet good bye, 
 each taking with them something in their hearts that glad- 
 dens the soul and gives life to the body. This something, 
 next to time, is mankind's greatest treasure, for it makes 
 the birds sing and the wheels in the factories turn. It in- 
 spires the poets and the artists, the playwrights and the 
 actors. It is the essence of the sun's light and the moon's 
 sheen. It is the volatile entity of the coloring in the flowers 
 
286 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 and the creation of the lily's gown, for as Christ said: 
 "They toil not, neither do they spin, yet Solomon in all of 
 his glory was not arrayed as one of these." It is love, love, 
 that was in their hearts, the substance that is of God, the 
 essence and leading protagonist in life's dramatic dream 
 that must remain as long as life remains. For as things 
 are they will be and have been yesterday, today and for- 
 ever. 
 
 Chapter II 
 
 After several meetings with Innes, Francis was com- 
 pelled to return to the city to resume his profession. He 
 mingled in society as usual for a while, but the city girls 
 were now a bore to him. They think of the latest creations 
 in gowns and other baubles indigenous to woman's frivo- 
 lous fancy, and their minds are vacuitive and empty. They 
 never use the subjective mind to fathom the deeper Strata 
 of life and the phenomena of our existence, nor are they as 
 tender and sweet as Innes. This he would repeat to him- 
 self until he decided he would equester himself away from 
 the turmoil of society and the city. After arranging his 
 estate that he might leave with impunity he went to his 
 uncle's home to live, where he could be near and hear the 
 voice he loved so well. 
 
 He had not proposed marriage to Innes, either by letter or 
 orally since she had repulsed him, although he had been 
 to see her several times, and had kept up a correspondence 
 with her. He made up his mind that when he moved down 
 near her home he would propose to her at once. In a short 
 time he had arranged matters to suit him in both his pro- 
 fession and business. When this was thoroughly con- 
 summated he went forthwith to live with his uncle. 
 
 Francis sent word to Innes that he had arrived at his 
 uncle's home, and told her in the note that he desired to 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 287 
 
 meet her at the sand pit at 2 P. M. the next day, which 
 would be Friday, September 13th. He also told her that 
 they would meet at the sand pit this time, but would de- 
 cide later upon a trysting place that had more conducive 
 environments for Cupid and Ate, the two tutelary deities 
 of love and infatuation. Both were true and punctual ; they 
 met at the appointed time. 
 
 "How glad I am to see you again/' said Francis. "The 
 days have been years and your absence has caused many 
 loving tears to flow. But God has been good ; He has kept 
 you free from all harm and I thank him." 
 
 "I am also glad, very glad to be with you again," Innes 
 replied. "I have thought of you so much while alone in 
 solitude, for it is then I love to meditate, for I wish to 
 be far away from everything that will detract my thoughts 
 from the subject of my sentiment that is of late the most 
 paramount in my mind." 
 
 "How sweet of you to express your tenderness for me 
 veiled in such diaphanous fabric that I may interpret your 
 heart's meaning with ease." 
 
 "Innes, I have something to tell you, and if you repulse 
 me as you did before you will kill me, for you are the idol 
 of my fancy and the breathing object of my affection. You 
 are the libation of my life and the food of my soul, the in- 
 spiration of my dreams and the muse of my verse. You 
 can be a sword in my heart or the dove of my peace. You 
 can be a cloud o'er my mirth or the light of my heaven. 
 Innes, Innes, hear me and reason with me. I love you, I love 
 you. Reciprocate my affections and care for me, for I ask 
 you to become my wife. Will you, Innes; will you? An- 
 swer me, answer me." 
 
 Innes droops her head for a moment and looks to the 
 ground. She appears to take on sort of a drowsy attitude 
 and appearance, then she raises her head and looks into his 
 eyes with an expression of fondness. He can see his an- 
 swer is going to be "yes" by her eyes, the windows of the 
 
288 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 soul, so he raises his arms to place them about her neck, 
 the first time he could muster up courage enough to do this 
 since she repulsed him many weeks before, but he knew he 
 was safe now, for she raised her arms simultaneously with 
 his, and in a moment they were folded in each other's fond 
 embrace. Then Innes murmured as she laid her head 
 against his shoulder. 
 
 "Yes, yes, I am your Innes, dear." 
 
 Then they kissed for the first time, and both felt the 
 "grand passion," which can be felt but once. After they had 
 spent the afternoon together, which were the sweetest hours 
 of their young lives, they parted to go to their homes, and 
 how happy and beautiful the world was to them at this 
 time. But "true love never runs smooth," an old saying, 
 but a true one, for trouble, even now, was impending that 
 would soon come to sadden their hearts and teach them 
 that Sic transit gloria mundi — so earthly glory passes 
 away. 
 
 Glory is tempered by sadness 
 As chill tempers the steel. 
 If not for the woe with the gladness, 
 We would not enjoy the weal. 
 
 Chapter III 
 
 Francis and Innes choose for their trysting place a large 
 sandstone, near an old stone quarry, where there was a 
 large elm tree that had grown from the crevice of the rocks 
 and leaned far over the artificial precipice of the quarry. 
 The massive roots of the tree clung like tendrils of an ivy 
 to the rocks and soil. The tree served as shade and the 
 stone as a seat, where they met many times. 
 
 After Francis had become better acquainted with Innes, 
 he discovered that she was surely a genius, for she was a 
 writer of verse, and verse that was of eruditional merit. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 
 
 289 
 
 He was sure, for Francis was more or less of a connoisseur 
 of good poetry, for he was a writer of verse himself and 
 was very fond of most of the modern poets such as Dryden, 
 Pope, Shakespeare, Milton, Byron, Burns, Chaucer, Shelley, 
 Keats, Southey, More and Longfellow. After they had 
 become better acquainted they collaborated on a short poem 
 of but two eight-line stanzas. Francis composed the first 
 verse and Innes the second. The following are the verses : 
 
 Francis : 
 
 Innes : 
 
 O Innes, sweet and tender, 
 
 You're the apple of my eye. 
 You're the sweetest of the gender, 
 
 I will love you till I die. 
 If ever taken from me, 
 
 Before God makes you mine, 
 I'll search the wide world for thee 
 
 And realm of Proserpine. 
 
 If from you I am taken 
 
 And I should hear your call, 
 Since you my heart did waken 
 
 Tho immured behind a wall, 
 I'll sing, don't you remember 
 
 The words I spoke when near- 
 My promise of September? 
 
 "I am your Innes, dear." 
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 Just one month before Francis and Innes became engaged 
 to each other, a wealthy Spaniard by the name of Rinaldo 
 Toro had purchased a ranch in the neighborhood and was 
 making his home there with his retinue of servants and 
 
2go MYTHOLOGY 
 
 companions. He was fifty years of age and a bachelor. He 
 was continuously vaunting his blood, contending that he 
 sprang from valorous and chivalrous knights of the Middle 
 Ages, who were Campadores, with the valor of a Cid, as he 
 would say. He had large paintings on the walls of his home, 
 which might be called a castle, for it was built with moats 
 and battlements, drawbridge, wickets, parapets, ramparts, 
 barbacon, dungeon, etc. He had genre paintings of Spanish 
 pastoral life for mural decorative art, besides French 
 tapestries and Persian rugs. He had paintings of his an- 
 cestors and portraits in replica of the "Moor" and the "Pal- 
 frey." He was never tired of looking at and talking of his 
 favorite paintings and the artists who painted them : Dore, 
 David, Van Dyke, Rubens, Raphael, Velasquez, Murillo, 
 Tintoretto, Correggio, Titian and Ghirlondojo. He claimed 
 consanguinity with the Cid, Don John of Austria, the hero 
 of Lapanto; Phillip the Second, son of Charles the Fifth, 
 and Cervantes, the author of "Don Quixote." He claimed his 
 ancestors were either grandees, dons or of royal progeny, 
 "born in the purple," or of noble and mulier parentage. 
 
 Rinaldo had observed Innes in the neighborhood and had 
 become smitten of her. Her charms had so overcome him 
 that he decided he would win her either by fair or foul 
 means. He would try gold first, and if that did not tempt 
 her he would resort to force, which might end in actual 
 stupration, but what of that! He would superciliously 
 laugh out his wicked words. 
 
 Innes was walking far up the road to a neighbor's home 
 one day, and had the misfortune to meet this Rinaldo in the 
 road. He had one of his companions with him, and as they 
 were about to pass each other he abruptly stopped Innes 
 and asked her if she could inform him which road he should 
 take to go to the Forest of Arden. 
 
 Inness, with politeness and civility that was always char- 
 acteristic of her, informed him as to the route he should 
 take. This was only a makeshift with Rinaldo, for he 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 291 
 
 knew very well where the Forest of Arden was, but he 
 wanted to bring about a favorable opportunity to speak 
 with her. Just as she had finished directing him he said : 
 
 "Pretty maid, I would like to kiss those rosy cheeks of 
 yours that are going to fade some day like the flower on the 
 desert in Gray's Elegy: 
 
 " 'Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
 The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear ; 
 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air/ " 
 
 At this he reaches to place his hand on a lock of her 
 tresses that had been raped by the cooling zephyrs. 
 
 "What insolence ! How dare you ?" Innes spoke as she 
 remonstrated. "You brute, get out of my path and let 
 me pass!" 
 
 At this Rinaldo turns to his companion and said: 
 
 "Ah ! the maiden reproaches me for my manifest fondness 
 of her, but I will wager 100 pesos that I will kiss her before 
 a week passes/' 
 
 "I'll bet you will not," Innes spoke up as she turned and 
 ran toward her home. 
 
 Rinaldo would have followed, but yeomen were coming 
 up the road, consequently he knew it was useless. A few 
 days passed and Innes received a decoy letter or note asking 
 her to come to the trysting place to meet her "Francis." 
 The note was delivered by a little innocent boy, and she 
 supposed of course it was from Francis. She did not scruti- 
 nize the handwriting to find if it was written by Francis, 
 because its purport was enough for her, especially when it 
 spoke of meeting her lover and particularly at the trysting 
 stone. Innes did as the note directed her to do. At 6.30 
 P. M., just as the earth was mantled in semi-darkness, she 
 approached the trysting place, but did not observe anyone 
 standing or sitting there to greet her. 
 
292 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Innes went on and up to the stone, and as she did two 
 strong men, who were hiding there, sprang up and threw a 
 large blanket over her head and rolled her into another 
 blanket, and loaded her into a vehicle and spirited her far 
 away to a railroad station, where she was put on to a train 
 with a threat that she would be severely punished if she 
 made an outcry to summon help. She was taken to an old 
 estate in Spain that belonged to Rinaldo. The castle was 
 nearly in a state of ruin, yet it had undergone restoration 
 sufficiently to make it habitable and fairly pleasant, for it 
 was located in the Sierra Nevada mountains and the scenery 
 about was picturesque. Here she was a prisoner surrounded 
 by luxury, guarded by day and locked into her chamber by 
 night, which was 600 miles from her home and her dear 
 Francis. 
 
 Every evening Rinaldo would come to her room and ask 
 her to consent to his repugnant and salacious requests. He 
 would place bags of English sovereigns in her lap and she 
 would throw them into his face. He had been repulsed by 
 her in this way so many times he decided he would resort 
 to the most severe extremes to conquer her. To do this 
 he left her in charge of his servants and went back, taking 
 two strong men with him to do with Francis as they had 
 with Innes, except they did not hold Francis only long 
 enough to compel him, under duress, to write a note to 
 Innes as Rinaldo dictated. The purport of the note was that 
 he (Francis) did not love Innes any more, for he was sure 
 her morality had been polluted, and that she surely must 
 have given this Rinaldo encouragement or he would not 
 have done as he did. 
 
 After they had obtained this note from Francis by duress 
 they returned to Spain, leaving him locked in a stable, 
 where he was compelled to remain for the night. After 
 arriving at the old castle Rinaldo at once showed Innes the 
 note. As she perused these terrible words, written by the 
 one she loved above all others, she swooned into a faint, 
 but was shortly revived by Rinaldo, who had caught her 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 293 
 
 in his arms as she was falling. When she revived and looked 
 into this villain's face, which was embellished with an im- 
 perial mustache and Van Dyke beard, she slapped him and 
 tried to force herself free from his powerful arms, but her 
 struggles were all in vain. He pressed his lips to hers and 
 kissed her with a long, drawn-out "soul kiss" that nearly 
 smothered the poor girl. (This is one of the misfortunes 
 which is brought about by being beautiful and overwhelm- 
 ingly attractive.) 
 
 Every day Rinaldo would repeat this terrible act of forced 
 kissing until she felt almost indifferent as to the ultimate 
 outcome of her perilous situation. The note from Francis 
 made her apathetic. She felt she might as well accept her 
 fate and become resigned to what now seemed inevitable 
 ruin. Rinaldo had given her a week to decide whether she 
 would become the solitary "Queen" of his Seraglio. She 
 promised she would answer him at the end of the stipulated 
 time. Innes only made this promise to put him off, thinking 
 something would surely transpire that would liberate her. 
 Poor girl ; she prayed and prayed that God would extricate 
 her from the malignant hands that she felt she was so hope- 
 lessly involved in. After the second night she dreamed her 
 mother came to her and told her not to listen to his blandish- 
 ments and to reproach and repulse his libidinous overtures 
 and desires, and that she must subterfuge and tergiversate 
 every way she could to put him off, for her dear Francis 
 still loved her and that the note was false, and that help 
 would arrive at the eleventh hour and save her virginity 
 and her life and visualize her lover. 
 
 "Hope springs eternal in the human breast," the last re- 
 sort to keep the soul at rest, the greatest treasure, after all, 
 within the Pandora Box, for now Innes at least had hope. 
 
294 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Chapter V 
 
 No one had ever suffered more severely than Francis had 
 since this terrible calamity had overtaken him. He swore 
 he would dedicate the remainder of his life and his entire 
 fortune to find his Jnnes and punish the one amenable to 
 his sorrow. He would study, and study alone by himself, 
 wondering how he could find his Innes, whom he well knew 
 was in captivity and forced exile. He was beginning to lose 
 his appetite, and was becoming attenuated and thin until his 
 uncle became worried about him. 
 
 His uncle told him that his troubles were no worse than 
 millions of men and women of the past, and told him to 
 read the story of "Paul and Virginia" and Alasandra Man- 
 zoni's "I Promesei Sposi" and Michaud's "Crusades of the 
 Middle Ages," where millions perished and where lovers 
 were parted without numbers. 
 
 Francis agreed to do this and started to read Michaud's 
 Crusades first. 
 
 He had no more than opened the book than he perused the 
 part where the troubadour poet had taken his harp and went 
 out into the world looking for King Richard the First of Eng- 
 land, who had been taken prisoner by the Duke of Austria. 
 This troubadour, who had composed a song in early days in 
 collaboration with Richard, traversed most of Europe in 
 quest of him, and finally arrived at an old castle where he 
 sang this song, and as soon as Richard heard the familiar 
 words of the song he joined in and sang the last verse that 
 he himself had composed many years before. The troubadour 
 went at once to good old England (God bless her) and made 
 known his discovery, and in a short time Richard was ran- 
 somed and back on the throne. This was real romance, 
 Francis thought, and sure enough it was. He kissed the 
 page it was printed on, and read no more, but proceeded at 
 once to act out what he had read. 
 
 He disguised as a Biscayan troubadour of the Middle 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 295 
 
 Ages and, having a good command of the Spanish language, 
 he started for Spain, thinking of course Innes must be in 
 Spain, for he knew Rinaldo was a Spaniard, and had for- 
 merly made his home there during his adolescence, and 
 even after he had developed into manhood. After Francis 
 had arrived in Spain and had sung and repeated many poems 
 in Spanish and French before many prisons and castles, both 
 from the chansons de gest, the French Epic, and from the 
 Cid, Comien's "Lusiade," "Jerusalem Delivered," "Orlando 
 Furioso" and many others, he arrived before the castle 
 where Innes was imprisoned. Francis was tired and dis- 
 couraged, for he had tried so many castles without success. 
 But "it is always darkest before dawn," and he made one 
 more attempt. He placed his fingers to the strings of his 
 harp that hung, by a strap about his neck. He first began 
 to play and repeat lines from Ariosto's "Orlando Furioso." 
 
 As soon as Innes heard the strains of music she looked out 
 of the barred window of her room in the castle with non- 
 chalance and indifference, for she felt that what she saw 
 was some fanatic or beggar playing to solicit alms. How- 
 ever, she stood as near as she could to the window that she 
 might hear and see him sing and repeat verses, for blessed 
 be anything, she thought, that would relieve the agony of 
 her breaking heart. She did not recognize him as Francis, 
 for he was disguised so completely that his own mother 
 could never have known him. Francis could not see Innes 
 in the window, for the walls were so thick and the lance- 
 morrelled windows were so narrow that she could observe 
 him, but he could not observe her. 
 
 Francis played several verses from the Italian poet Pe- 
 trarch, then he played and repeated the lines that were near- 
 est his heart, and they were the ones they had composed 
 togther days before at the old trysting stone. He began to 
 play and sing: 
 
296 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 "Oh ! Innes, sweet and tender, 
 
 You're the apple of my eye. 
 You're the sweetest of the gender. 
 
 I will love you till I die. 
 If ever taken from me 
 
 Before God makes you mine, 
 I'll search the wide world for thee 
 
 And the realm of Proserpine. " 
 
 Innes, on hearing these words, knew her prophetic dream 
 was beginning to be fulfilled. She could hardly wait for 
 him to complete the first verse that she might commence 
 the last, for she knew it was Francis disguised as a trouba- 
 dour poet to find her. 
 
 Innes began the last verse with a tremor in her voice, but 
 nothing ever sounded as beautiful to Francis as when he 
 heard these words coming from the castle through the lin- 
 den branches, words he knew well, no one but himself and 
 Innes knew. 
 
 So after the first line he knew well his tiresome journey 
 would be crowned with love and victory. 
 
 Innes joins in and sings with him : 
 
 "If from you I am taken 
 
 And I should hear you call, 
 Since you my heart did waken 
 
 Tho immured behind a wall, 
 I'll sing, don't you remember 
 
 The words I spoke when near — 
 My promise of September? 
 
 I am your Innes, dear." 
 
 As soon as Innes had completed singing the last line (and 
 if anyone could have been near they could have heard Fran- 
 cis say "My God ! It is my Innes, it is my Innes") he 
 waved his hands, thinking that if she could see him she 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 297 
 
 would know that it was Francis, the man who loved her 
 above all others. No one could be happier than they both 
 were now. 
 
 Francis did not wait a moment, he went post haste to the 
 authorities and had Rinaldo and his men, who had been of 
 the contrabandist element, arrested. 
 
 Francis walked into the castle with the gendarmes, when 
 they were placed under arrest. Here they were, Innes and 
 Francis, reunited in the room that had been her prison for 
 many days. They clasped each other in their arms, and it 
 was moments before either one uttered a word except 
 "Innes !" "Francis !" "Innes !" "Francis !" 
 
 After a very few moments they left this beautifully horrid 
 place and went to a hotel in the city, where they had rooms 
 opposite each other, with only the hall to divide them. They 
 remained here but a few days, for they had planned a long 
 journey on their return home. They went by the way of 
 the Pyrenees and stopped at Maultrassia, the Hermitage of 
 Ignatius de Loyola, the founder of the Society of Jesus, or 
 the Jesuits. From here they went on to Tours in France, 
 where Charles Martel was successful in stopping the fur- 
 ther invasion of the Saracens in Europe, and from here they 
 went to Lourdes, where the Catholic shrine of health is lo- 
 cated, the greatest shrine in the world, for its number of 
 pilgrims each year and for the great number of miraculous 
 cures that have taken place there through the agency of 
 divine intercession, brought about by prayers and faith 
 from the supplicant. From here they went on their way to 
 Picardy, Brittany and Normandy in France, finishing their 
 itinerary at Cherbourg, and from here they left for their 
 home and their country. For certain reasons I am com- 
 pelled to omit the name of their native country, shire and 
 city. However, I am afraid I have already tacitly inferred 
 the country of their nativity in one of the preceding chap- 
 ters. Be that as it may, they in due time arrived at their 
 respective homes. 
 
298 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 In this circuitous trip home they traveled without chap- 
 eron, and were together on Boats and trains, and in hotels 
 so much that the temptation became so great that it even- 
 tuated into indiscretion that finally culminated into sorrow 
 for both of them. 
 
 They were back at their homes but a few weeks when 
 Francis began to meditate on what had occurred, both in 
 regard to Innes being for so long under Rinaldo's roof, and 
 also what had taken place between them without civil or 
 ecclesiastical sanction or ceremony. Francis was reasoning 
 under illusions and delusions, for God had kept Innes im- 
 maculate and pure until the last few weeks that she had 
 traveled with him. But like most all men, under these same 
 circumstances, it always renders them into a state of dubiety 
 and incredulity. Francis was afraid that Innes had made 
 obeisance to the God Hymen under the domineering press- 
 ure of Rinaldo. 
 
 One day Francis, by a slip of his tongue, made a slight 
 imputation to her and her hypothetical conduct with this 
 Greek God in conjunction with Rinaldo. From that moment 
 on Innes was a changed woman, for this poignant remark 
 was too acrimonious for her acute and sentient mind. His 
 insinuation was so thinly veiled, its meaning was easily per- 
 ceptible. It pierced her very soul to think that, he, Francis, 
 would ever doubt or attack, even in a tacit manner, her 
 common-law prenuptial chastity and virginity. She would 
 say to herself: "To accuse me of offending against what 
 I have always held the most sacred, I who have fought, 
 labored and prayed to feed the Vestal fires at the hearth 
 of Vesta, instead of extinguishing them. Oh ! my God, I am 
 ruined, I am ruined !" 
 
 It weighed upon her mind and had wounded her modesty, 
 pride and humility to such an extent that she decided she 
 would go away to America and travel incognito, that 
 Francis could not follow her. She decided she would 
 assume some cognomen that was suitable in America, where 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 299 
 
 she felt she could make her own living. She first, without 
 divulging the secret of her intended departure, made known 
 her enciente to Francis, and also told him she was looking 
 forward to her accouchment, that she was satisfied would 
 take place on a certain date that she mentioned. 
 
 She told him her evidence of its proof was a fact 
 beyond cavil, and she desired to purchase different articles 
 she would need for the coming occasion. Francis liberally 
 supplied her with funds to do with as she saw fit. 
 
 In a few days, while Francis was in the city on business, 
 Innes purchased her ticket via the North German Lloyd 
 Line for New York and sailed for "the land of the free and 
 the home of the brave. " After arriving at New York she, 
 for some unaccountable reason, went on to Philadelphia, 
 Pa. While on the train she happened to pick up the Phila- 
 delphia Ledger and in scanning its columns she saw an 
 ad. where a widow lady on Chestnut Street desired a lady 
 roomer and boarder as a companion. Her name being 
 Adams, Innes conceived the idea that she would adopt 
 "Adams" as her fictitious name. 
 
 After arriving at Philadelphia she went directly to Mrs. 
 Adams' residence and made her home there with her for 
 many dismal years, where she gave birth to her child that 
 proved to be a girl. She christened her by the name "Fran- 
 ces Adams," pretending to Mrs. Adams that her name was 
 "Adams" as well, and remarking how strange a coincidence 
 to possess the same name. Innes thought it would be well 
 to do this, as it might give her more prestige with Mrs. 
 Adams. 
 
 Her naming her little baby girl after her father may 
 sound strange, but the name "Francis" can be applied to 
 both sexes, ior it is a fact that many male as well as female 
 children are christened by this name. 
 
 In a short time Innes procured a position on the Ledger, 
 Philadelphia's leading paper, writing the Salmagundi col- 
 umns of social events and doings of the elite and social elect 
 
3 oo MYTHOLOGY 
 
 of the city. This, and arranging the pictures on the intaglio 
 sheet of Sunday's edition of the same paper, she was driven 
 to do for subsistence and a livelihood. 
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 Before Innes left home she sent a letter to Francis and 
 requested it should be left between the leaves of his ledger, 
 a book that she knew very well he would be compelled to 
 consult before many days passed by, and in doing this 
 would discover her note. The purport of the note was as 
 follows : 
 
 "At Home. 
 
 "My Dear Francis — I am sorry that I have to take this 
 step, but it seems that I am a creature of circumstances. 
 My life was surely designed to be a romantic one, and 
 romance that is not pleasing nor desirable, for it is fraught 
 with so many periods of tenebrosity and sorrow. I must 
 tell you what has prompted me to take this step that I fear 
 will end disastrously both for the incarnate and the un- 
 born, but your doubting my moral integrity and common- 
 law prenuptial chastity by insinuating that I had not told 
 all that might have occurred while I was forced to remain 
 under the roof of that lecherous scoundrel, Rinaldo. But I 
 swear by God, the archangels and the ten thousand saints 
 in heaven, and all else that is good and pure, that I came 
 to you a pure girl and I leave you a pure woman, with the 
 exception of the pollution that you yourself have sullied my 
 virtue with. When you have read this note I will be in 
 the ocean, so it will be useless for you or any one to attempt 
 to find me, for I have gone forever. I love you still, with 
 all you have said, and hope you may always be happy. 
 Good-bye, good-bye, and may God bless you. 
 
 "Forever, your disconsolate and broken-hearted, 
 
 "Innes." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 301 
 
 On returning home, Francis, as usual, went to his library 
 and opened his bookkeeping ledger and found the note. He 
 opened it and hastily read it. Before he had finished its con- 
 tents he swooned and was about to fall as he grabbed hold of 
 a nearby chair. 
 
 "Gone, gone, my God! Innes gone; what have I done? 
 What have I done?" he repeated. "Fool that I was! Why 
 was I so unkind? What a mistake I have made; pure, 
 chaste, I know she is. I know she is. Now, now it is too 
 late to make amends. I know she is pure, for she would not 
 have been so sensitive and so malignantly wounded by my 
 rash utterances. What will I do; what can I do? I will 
 find her ; I will search the world over for her. Ah ! but 
 she is dead ; she is dead !" as he reads the letter the second 
 time. "For the note says 'in the ocean' ; she has committed 
 suicide, and I can never see her either dead or alive. " 
 
 He carried on in this way for hours and days. He was 
 sure she was dead because the word "in" in the note, that 
 should have read "on" the ocean, and as she intended it to 
 have read, was by some mistake or slip of her pen made 
 to read "in" the ocean. The "o" was an "i," which made 
 the word "in" instead of "on." So how much there is some- 
 times in small things, like a little letter of the alphabet, for 
 this nearly proved fatal to Francis, for he would have de- 
 stroyed himself if he had not been closely watched for 
 many days. Months passed by before Francis was in any 
 condition to take care of his own business affairs. But time 
 is a great healer, for after months had passed he disposed 
 of all of his property and decided that he would go to the 
 United States to spend the remainder of his life, for he felt 
 he did not want to live anywhere near anything that would 
 remind him of that which had been the wight of his happi- 
 ness and the instrument of his ruin. 
 
 In a few weeks from the time he had decided to go away 
 he arrived in New York City, bag and baggage, and here 
 in New York he decided he would make his home. 
 
302 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 After he had been in America a few months, and a year 
 after Innes had left him, he met a young lady that was born 
 in one of the Romance countries. This he knew, which was 
 about all he did know of her early life and the place of her 
 nativity. In a short while he married her, but did not love 
 her. Well did he know this, for well did he know there 
 was no woman on God's green earth that he ever could or 
 would love, for he would often say, "Love is like smallpox. 
 You can have it but once/' he had had a very severe attack 
 of it and one that left pits in both his brain and his soul. 
 Knowing all this, he felt he might as well marry the first 
 woman that chanced to come his way that suited him in the 
 least, that he knew to be a pure woman. He married for 
 a companion, and that was all. 
 
 After a year had passed Francis and his wife were blessed 
 with a baby boy. She, having a penchant for Spanish 
 names, and also having a relative by the name of Rinaldo 
 that she was very fond of, determined the child should be 
 christened by that name. Francis reluctantly consented to 
 this, but he had never made known to his wife why he 
 entertained such an invidious hatred for this name. 
 
 Francis seemed doomed to experience much grief and sor- 
 row, for in a short time after the birth of his son, Rinaldo, 
 his wife died, leaving the two, father and son, alone in the 
 world to fight life's battles. 
 
 For nearly fifteen years after this, they made their home 
 in New York City. Rinaldo was a graduate of Fordham 
 Preparatory School and now felt he was fitted to take up a 
 profession. All of this time, he had lived with his father, 
 but after he had attained the age of sixteen years, he decided 
 he would like to take up the medical profession as his father 
 had done and go to the University of Philadelphia for this 
 purpose. This his father consented to and forthwith sent 
 him to Philadelphia, where he matriculated and started on 
 his medical course. The boy's extraordinary precocity 
 made him eligible for this undertaking, otherwise his father 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 303 
 
 would not have allowed him to take up a profession while 
 so young. 
 
 While at school Rinaldo got to mingling with some of 
 the younger class of the social set in Philadelphia, and one 
 evening, while at a card party he met a young girl that 
 was very prepossessing and accomplished and was also 
 endowed with qualities that Rinaldo knew could not be ac- 
 quired, and these were her physical charm and magnetism. 
 Her name was Frances Adams, or at least she had been 
 given that name by her mother, but she in reality was no 
 other than Frances Brooks, Rinaldo's half-sister, for Innes 
 had given birth to this child that was Francis' own daugh- 
 ter, but instead of naming her Frances Brooks she named 
 her Frances Adams, the name she had assumed on arriving 
 in Philadelphia and at the home of Mrs. Adams, her land- 
 lady. 
 
 Rinaldo became so attached to Miss Adams that he would 
 go to see her three and four times a week. He kept this 
 up until he had grown so fond of her he made the fact 
 known to his father. 
 
 On returning to New York to spend the holidays, Rinaldo 
 confessed to his father that he was about to marry Miss 
 Adams. This did not please his father in the least, for he 
 said to his son : 
 
 "Rinaldo, first of all, will you go from me and leave me 
 here alone, you who are all I have left that is near and 
 dear, and secondly, she is not the girl for you ; you want to 
 marry a girl of some class distinction, and from a family 
 that have a name already established and have blue blood 
 in their veins. And thirdly, you are far too young to marry. 
 No, no, that I cannot allow, nor will I. If you marry I will 
 disinherit you, so you can see and realize my attitude in 
 this matter. My word is law in this household and you 
 must abide by my word." 
 
 Rinaldo's father had made inquiry about the girl's parents 
 and from what little knowledge he had obtained he felt they 
 
3 04 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 could not be of very much consequence, for the gentleman 
 he had made inquiry of was a prominent Philadelphian, who 
 said that the Adams family located at this address he had 
 never heard of before, and if they were of any real conse- 
 quence he would surely have known it. Francis thought 
 from this unfavorable inquiry it would be folly to make fur- 
 ther investigation into the matter. 
 
 As time went on Rinaldo became incorrigible. He would 
 at times sit and stare into vacancy, and at other times would 
 become phlegmatic and morose. After a few weeks he be- 
 came desperate and decided he would marry at all hazards, 
 even if his father did consider he was acting with indiscre- 
 tion and that he was violating parental quiddities. 
 
 Francis became very suspicious of his son's letters of late. 
 He interpreted the context of their meaning by interpolat- 
 ing between the lines his own idea of what he himself would 
 have done under the same circumstances, after donning the 
 toga virilis in early manhood. He well knew, or at least he 
 felt he knew his son was about to make a faux pas, so he 
 proceeded at once to Philadelphia to shadow his move- 
 ments. To aid him in this undertaking he employed a pri- 
 vate detective. It was not long until Rinaldo and Frances 
 mustered up enough courage to proceed to the courthouse to 
 obtain a marriage license. Mrs. Adams, the landlady, ac- 
 companied them and swore, under oath, that they had at- 
 tained the age that the law requires for the consummation 
 of this contract. 
 
 They entered the clerk's office of the Probate Court and 
 the clerk asked them if they were both of age and if they 
 were wards in chancery, or had been at any time in the past. 
 Also, many other questions relative to the legality of their 
 matrimonial undertaking, all of which they carefully 
 weighed and answered, that they would not defeat their 
 youthful wants and desires. These questions were all 
 sworn to by Mrs. Adams, thus suborning herself and laying 
 herself liable to criminal prosecution for perjury. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 305 
 
 They obtained the license by swearing they were of legal 
 age to consummate the nuptial ties, when in fact they were 
 both minors. This alone was sufficient to invalidate the 
 proceedings even though the marriage ceremony had been 
 solemnized. 
 
 After obtaining the license they proceeded directly to a 
 Justice of the Peace and were married, Just as the last 
 word was being uttered by the Justice that united them in 
 "wedlock" the private detective had traced them and, run- 
 ning breathlessly into the office he shouted, "Don't marry 
 them, don't marry them, for they are both under age." 
 
 "But I have already married them, my dear man," the 
 Justice retorted. 
 
 "They were armed with the necessary documents, so 
 what was I to do but to marry them?" 
 
 The detective made no reply to the Justice, but turned 
 to Rinaldo and the girl and told them they were under 
 arrest and to sit down, as he pointed to two chairs near by. 
 In fact, they were not under arrest, for he had no warrant, 
 but did this to hold them until he had called Rinaldo's 
 father by telephone. This he did, and the father came at: 
 once to the office and swore to a warrant issued by the 
 very Justice that had a moment before married them. In- 
 stead of having them placed in cells they were taken to the 
 Bellevue-Stratford Hotel and placed in separate rooms and 
 guarded there. 
 
 Their cases were to come before the Judge of the Police 
 Court because there were really three offenders, for Mrs. 
 Adams had sworn to a falsehood in aiding them in procur- 
 ing a license, consequently she was arrested at once and 
 placed in the room occupied by the girl. Their trial was to 
 come up at 10.00 A. M. Monday, and this was 1 Friday. 
 
 Counsel was obtained on both sides. 
 
 Mrs. Adams was sure she would be bound over to the 
 Grand Jury, be indicted by that tribunal and tried in the 
 next term of the Common Pleas Court. 
 
306 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Innes Adams, the mother of the girl, being sick, was 
 unable to appear to aid her daughter in any way. This 
 greatly troubled Innes, for she was very fond of her child 
 and was courageous in protecting her. 
 
 It may seem strange, still it was a fact that in all of the 
 months Rinaldo had kept company with this girl he had 
 never said one word about the mother to his father. He 
 had always used the name "Mother Adams" in referring 
 to this woman, who had been a godmother to his fiancee, 
 consequently his father was of the opinion this lady who 
 had perjured herself for them was the real mother of the 
 girl, which proved to be very misleading ignis fatuus to 
 him later. 
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 Monday morning has arrived and court has convened. 
 The Judge is on the bench and the court bailiff is at hand 
 with the three prisoners, who are allowed to sit at the 
 trial table with their counsel. Both the plaintiff and the 
 defendant's attorneys were waiting at the trial tables ; also 
 Rinaldo's father, and far back in the courtroom was an old 
 gentleman whom it could readily be observed was from 
 some Latin nation, either in Europe or South America. 
 
 This dignified gentleman was no other than Rinaldo 
 Toro, the identical man who, years before, had held Innes 
 prisoner in the old castle in Spain. He of late had received 
 word that the man who had married his youngest sister's 
 daughter was no other than Francis Brooks, the very man 
 he had caused so much misery years back. His niece had 
 left Spain without informing them as to her intended des- 
 tination, nor had she written them since she had left home, 
 nor since she had married Francis. He had heard of her 
 decease and of her only child by Francis Brooks and that 
 she had named the boy after him, who was her favorite 
 uncle. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 307 
 
 He had become cognizant of all this through a Spanish 
 servant, who was at one time employed by Francis, while 
 he was living in New York City. Through this same ser- 
 vant he had learned the city address of Francis, and that 
 his grand-nephew was attending the medical department of 
 the University of Philadelphia. Upon his arrival in New 
 York he became aware of the impending court proceedings 
 through the medium of the newspapers, and knew it was his 
 niece's child, Rinaldo, that was in trouble, but did not know 
 that the girl in the case was the daughter of Innes, the 
 woman he had wronged. He knew his days were num- 
 bered, and he had come to bestow a large share of his for- 
 tune upon his posterity and namesaked progeny Rinaldo 
 (Secundus). After being informed that the man who mar- 
 ried his niece was no other than Francis Brooks, the phy- 
 sician he had harmed so in the past, he decided to expiate 
 this wrong and make restitution for the future. He knew 
 very well he would have to do more than shrive to his con- 
 fessor and offer a few Holy Marys as penance to obtain 
 absolution for this sinful act. To do this, he felt that the 
 only way open at this late day was to make this boy, who 
 was his collateral heir, his legatee. This, he felt, would 
 partly atone for his evil behavior and grievous sinning of 
 the past. So there he sat, back in the throng that had gath- 
 ered to hear the trial. 
 
 He would have made himself known at once to Rinaldo, 
 his grand-nephew, but he was reluctant as yet to approach 
 him when the boy's father was present, so he watched, 
 waited and listened. 
 
 The Judge sounded his gavel and the court was called to 
 order. Evidence had been submitted to the court by the 
 boy's father, tending to show that they were both guilty. 
 
 The counsel for the prosecution first called Mrs. Adams 
 to the witness stand, at the same time allowing the other 
 two defendants to enter the court room and sit at the trial 
 tables beside their attorney. 
 
3 o8 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Mrs. Adams, the landlady, is asked to take the witness 
 stand. 
 
 (The Clerk of the Court) : 
 
 Question : "Mrs. Adams will you please place your hand 
 on the Bible and then hold it up? Do you swear that the 
 evidence that you shall give in this case will be the truth, 
 the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you 
 God?" 
 
 (Mrs. Adams) 
 
 Answer: "I do." 
 
 (Counsel for the prosecution) 
 
 Question: "What is your name?" 
 
 Answer: "Adams, sir — Christina Adams." 
 
 Question: "Where do you reside?" 
 
 Answer: "1881 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa." 
 
 Question: "Do you know these two defendants sitting 
 here at the table?" 
 
 Answer: "I do." 
 
 Question: "How long have you known them?" 
 
 Answer: "I have known the young man only seven 
 months, sir. But the young lady I have known for seven- 
 teen years." 
 
 Question: "If you would have known these two defen- 
 dants to have been minors, would you in that case have 
 sworn they were of age?" 
 
 Answer: "Indeed, I would not." 
 
 Question : "What prompted you to go out of your way 
 and even inconvenience yourself to aid these two in pro- 
 curing a marriage license?" 
 
 Answer: "It was because they were so fond of each 
 other and I was of the opinion that it was beter that they 
 were joined in legal wedlock than to continue in a long 
 period of courtship, which I consider is so conducive to 
 immoral conduct and is apt to involve them in ill be- 
 havior and disgrace." 
 
 (Counsel for the prosecution to the Court) : "I think 
 that is all at this time." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 309 
 
 Mrs. Adams is cross-examined by the plaintiff's counsel. 
 
 (Counsel for the prosecution) 
 
 Question : "Can you tell the court the exact date you first 
 looked upon this young lady?" 
 
 (Counsel for the defense) : "Your honor, I object to the 
 question." 
 
 (The Judge — after studying for a moment) : "The ques- 
 tion seems to have a direct bearing on the witness's knowl- 
 edge of her age. Objection overruled." 
 
 (Counsel for the prosecution) : "Please answer the ques- 
 tion." 
 
 (Mrs. Adams) : "I was present when the dear child 
 came into the world. I saw her when the light of heaven 
 first shone upon her." 
 
 Question: "Then, if you were present, you surely re- 
 member the date of the child's birth, which you may please 
 state." 
 
 Answer: "It will be eighteen years the 13th of next 
 month." 
 
 Question : "Then you did know the girl was not of age, 
 for she will not be of age until the 13th of next month, ac- 
 cording to your own sworn testimony." 
 
 At this Mrs. Adams breaks down and cries as she utters : 
 "I did it because they wanted to be married; besides a 
 friend of mine once told me of her great suffering on ac- 
 count of her inadvertence and procrastinating legal matri- 
 mony, and confessed to me the sorrow and disgrace of her 
 early life because of its neglect, telling me that her own 
 experience of contact and continuity of courtship without 
 marriage was sufficient to cause her to perjure herself 
 many times over to legally consummate the nuptial tie, if 
 she was ever driven to this extreme." 
 
 At this Francis Brooks, the father of Rinaldo, leans over 
 to ask his counsel to question the witness whether the girl 
 has always lived with her, since she has no other protector, 
 and being suspicious that she is the real mother of the girl, 
 
3 io MYTHOLOGY 
 
 but for some reason is endeavoring to cover up this im- 
 portant phas,e of the case, he asks his counsel to interrogate 
 her further in this regard. 
 
 (Attorney for Francis Brooks) : "Is it not a fact that you 
 are the real mother of this girl?" 
 
 Answer: "I have not said I am the real mother of this 
 girl, have I?" 
 
 Question: "Well, then, is her mother living?" 
 
 Answer : "I have not said she is not living, have I ?" 
 
 Question: "No; nor have you said that she is living." 
 
 Answer : "I am aware of that fact." 
 
 Question : "Then tell me whether her mother is alive." 
 
 Answer : "Indeed she is, and very much so, for she is in 
 full bloom of womanhood." 
 
 Question : "Why is she not here to aid her child ?" 
 
 Answer : "Because she is ill and unable to be present at 
 these court proceedings, sir." 
 
 At this time Innes, the girl's mother, feels it so much her 
 duty to go to the courtroom that she forces herself from 
 her couch, although she is ill, dresses and hastens down- 
 town and walks into the courtroom. But there are so many 
 people standing in the rear of the courtroom she cannot get 
 by; besides, if she could, the seats are all occupied, conse- 
 quently she is compelled to stand there and listen to the 
 proceedings. 
 
 (Counsel for the prosecution) : "I think that is all I have 
 to ask the witness for the present." 
 
 (The counsel for the defense examines the witness fur- 
 ther). 
 
 Question : "You say that you were persuaded to act for 
 these two offenders on account of their infatuation for each 
 other?" 
 
 Answer: "I did." 
 
 Question : "What evidence had you other than the fre- 
 quent calls the young man made at your home to see and 
 to court the young lady?" 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 311 
 
 Answer : "I had copious quantities of evidence sufficient 
 in such cases as this one of their being extremely fond of 
 each other." 
 
 Question: "Will you explain to the court what the evi- 
 dence consisted of?" 
 
 Answer: "That which I considered paramount and the 
 most insignificant of all was that they both became so senti- 
 mental, particularly the girl, while away from her fiance." 
 
 Question : "What was the phase of their sentimen- 
 tality?" 
 
 Answer: "Love stories and poetry — poetry and love 
 stories, in particular the latter, and very often the former." 
 
 Question : "Can you tell the court the names of the au- 
 thors or poets they were so fond of?" 
 
 Answer: "I think I can, sir: Byron, Burns, More, 
 Shelley, Keats, Petrarch and — let me think — there was one 
 short poem ; I am sure I do not know the author, but I have 
 heard the girl's mother repeat the poem many hundreds 
 of times, and of late or in fact during the past seven months, 
 I have heard the girl repeat this poem several times each 
 day to herself until I am sure it became a habit* with her." 
 
 Question: "What is the poem? Can you repeat it to the 
 court, Mrs. Adams?" 
 
 (Counsel for the prosecution addresses the Judge) : 
 "Your honor, I object to this tomfoolery. The idea of 
 bringing in this silly sentiment that has not the least bear- 
 ing on the fundamental aspects of the case ! I move that 
 it should be ruled out." 
 
 (The Judge, after meditating a few moments) : "This 
 may not have any direct bearing on the case, but it may 
 lead up to or evolve some nucleus that would indirectly be 
 of great value in determining a final verdict. Objection 
 overruled." 
 
 (Counsel for the defense) 
 
 Question: "Mrs. Adams, will you please repeat the 
 poem?" 
 
312 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Answer: "I will. Let me think; 1 have heard it so many 
 times; still I — well, the first line goes — just let me think 
 a moment — something like — why not let Miss Adams re- 
 peat it ? I am really afraid, after all, I have forgotten it." 
 (Counsel for the defense) : "Yes, let the girl repeat it." 
 As he turns to Miss Adams, the girl hangs her head and 
 the "livery of innocence" is so perceptible on her young 
 brow one could readily observe she did not care to repeat 
 the poem. However, after Mrs. Adams, her godmother, had 
 prevailed upon her she reluctantly accepted and forthwith 
 took the witness stand. 
 (Clerk of the Court) 
 
 Question : "Do you swear that the evidence you are 
 about to give in this cause shall be the truth, the whole 
 truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" 
 Answer: "I do." 
 
 Question : Will you please repeat the poem, Miss 
 Adams?" 
 
 Answer: "I will." 
 
 "O, Rinaldo, sweet and tender, 
 You're the apple of my eye; 
 You're the sweetest of the gender; 
 
 I will love you till I die. 
 If ever taken from me 
 
 Before God makes you mine, 
 I'll search the wide world for thee 
 And realm of Prosperine." 
 At this Francis Brooks' knees became weak from a semi- 
 faint, and he unconsciously expelled an audible moan as he 
 fell half-reclining in his chair. He had risen from his chair 
 as the girl repeated the first two lines of the verse that was 
 his own composition of years before, with the exception 
 that she interpolated the name of "Rinaldo" in the place 
 where "Innes" should have been. Francis Brooks sits with 
 his hand on his heart. The Judge turns to him. 
 Question: "Are you ill, Mr. Brooks?" 
 Answer: "Oh, no; oh, no, it is only a little spell of the 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 313 
 
 heart I am subject to; I will be all right in a moment, your 
 honor." 
 
 Francis Brooks looks at the girl on the witness stand for 
 a moment, then rises slowly from his chair and proceeds 
 in a low, trembling voice to question the girl. This, of 
 course, was violating the rules of the court while in session, 
 but the Judge allowed this breach of procedure because he 
 could at this time see the extraordinary drift of the case. 
 
 (Francis Brooks). 
 
 Question: " Where did you get those lines of poetry? 
 Do tell me, where did you find them; who taught them to 
 you. Please tell me ; please tell me." 
 
 Answer : "My dear mother taught them to me. She has 
 often told me how they saved her life once while she was 
 imprisoned in an old castle in Spain when she was a girl." 
 
 At this Rinaldo Toro, who was one of the spectators, 
 gave a loud shriek that could be heard all over the court- 
 room. 
 
 The Judge sounded his gavel. "Silence, or the bailiff 
 will expel all of you from the courtroom. This is a court 
 of justice, not a vaudeville performance." 
 
 On hearing the girl utter these last words Francis Brooks 
 collapsed into his chair with a shriek of agony. All was 
 quiet for a moment except a cough now and then in the 
 courtroom. All looked and listened with a pose of ex- 
 pectancy. 
 
 Innes, who was still standing back of the crowd of men 
 in the rear of the courtroom, could see between the shoul- 
 ders of two men who stood before her, and there she recog- 
 nized her Francis, the man she loved of all men. She did 
 not recognize him until he stood up the last time and spoke 
 to the girl who was his own daughter, by Innes, the woman 
 he loved so much. 
 
 Francis Brooks at this moment deliberately, and for the 
 second time, violated the rules of the court by abruptly, 
 with tears running down his cheeks, approached the girl 
 on the witness stand and taking her into his strong arms 
 
314 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 he murmured : "My God ! dear one, then you are my own 
 daughter, my own flesh arid blood. God bless you, God 
 bless you !" 
 
 As he was kissing her, Innes began to cry aloud in the 
 back of the room, and in doing so the men about her turned 
 and looked at her, and at the same time made way for her 
 to press forward in plain view of all in the room. She ceased 
 crying by mustering her fortitude and began to sing the 
 remaining eight lines of the poem that was her own com- 
 position years before. Tears of joy were in her eyes as she 
 slowly walked toward her Francis, down the aisle, singing 
 these lines, which were so familiar to both of them : 
 "If from you I am taken 
 
 And I should hear you call, 
 Since you my heart did waken, 
 Tho immured behind a wall, 
 I'll sing, don't you remember 
 
 The words I spoke when near — 
 My promise of September? 
 T am your Innes, dear.' " 
 As Francis Brooks heard these words he slowly released 
 his grasp on his newly-found daughter and turned his eyes 
 in the direction of the voice that was singing them. 
 
 As Innes was finishing the last line she commenced to 
 walk to him, between both knaves and crooks, tears on her 
 cheeks and love within her looks. With head erect she 
 sings the title role, 
 
 "I am your Innes, dear, 
 And, Francis, you're my soul." 
 Francis held forth his arms to receive her. "My God ! it 
 is my Innes, my long-lost Innes ! Come to my arms, come 
 to your home, my breast, my heart !" 
 
 They embraced and kissed, both shrieking in tones of 
 mournful gladness. While they were in each other's loving 
 embrace, Rinaldo, the old Spaniard, came down and stood 
 near them. As they released each other, Rinaldo said to 
 them : "I am Rinaldo of old, who has caused both of you 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 315 
 
 so much agony. I have come to make amends for my 
 wrongs of the past. This boy here is my grand-nephew. 
 His mother, who is now dead, and who was the wife of 
 Francis Brooks, this man whom I have harmed, was his 
 mother and my sister's child. I have come to make him 
 my sole heir. I ask your forgiveness. This is all I can do. 
 Will you forgive me?" 
 
 They spoke simultaneously, "We will," as Francis shook 
 his hand. 
 
 Francis spoke as he turned to the two who a moment 
 before thought they were man and wife. "Dear children, 
 you two are brother and sister, instead of man and wife, 
 and I am your father." 
 
 At this they kissed, as the girl said: "We are better off 
 than before, for we are nearer than man's law can make 
 us, for our blood is the same, and even marriage could not 
 do that, could it, Rinaldo?" 
 
 The Judge spoke out in a low tone of voice : "This case 
 has, by due process of the divine Court of Justice, terminated 
 into a godly verdict that has united husband and wife, 
 brother and sister, daughter and son, enemies and friends, 
 and by this He has exemplified His infinite wisdom in prov- 
 ing that "True love is a product of Heaven, with by-products 
 of sorrow and care ; tho far you are flung and driven He will 
 be with you everywhere." 
 
 Faith is to have what we haven't; 
 Truth is the earth that we trod ; 
 Charity is the subsance of loving, 
 While Hope is borrowed from God. 
 
 "In interpreting heavenly jurisprudence, which is greater 
 than any court or tribunal of man, I feel that I am only 
 empowered to dismiss this case. No other verdict than 
 this shall be pronounced, but all indictments will be quashed 
 and all prisoners set free. This case is dismissed. Court 
 is closed;" (he sounds his gavel) "you are free to go where 
 you will, and as the great God has blessed you, may He 
 continue to bless you on ; amen." 
 
3 i6 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 VIRGINIA 
 
 Appius Claudius, the Decemvir of Rome in the year of 
 the city 347, attempted to ruin the chastity of a beautiful 
 girl by the name of Virginia, who was a daughter of Vir- 
 ginius, a Roman soldier of humble birth. A member of the 
 Claudian house claimed this beautiful maiden as his slave. 
 The case was brought up before the Tribunal of Appius 
 Claudius for trial. Evidence on both sides was submitted. 
 The evidence for the claimant was weak, tho in defiance of 
 overwhelming truth, the girl being free-born, Appius 
 brought in a verdict in favor of the plaintiff. His doing this 
 regardless of the evidence was that he desired the damsel as 
 his mistress or slave. But the girl's father, a brave soldier, 
 remonstrated, and to save his pure daughter from living a 
 life of slavery and immoral servitude, as a last resort asked 
 the magistrate for permission to have at least the privilege 
 of kissing her pure and unpolluted lips once more before she 
 was torn from him. To this Appius agreed, and as he 
 pressed his daughter to his breast with tears flowing down 
 the old soldier's cheeks, he drew a knife and thrust it into 
 her heart, killing her while she reclined on his breast. This 
 caused the whole city to rise against Appius Claudius, and 
 to save himself from slow torture, that he well knew his 
 evil behavior merited, he committed suicide. James Sheri- 
 dan Knowles, in the early part of the nineteenth century, 
 wrote a drama in five acts that he named "Virginius," after 
 the girl's father. The play is somewhat exaggerated from 
 a historical standpoint, tho not any more than was neces- 
 sary to construct a plot and pad the facts with philosophy 
 and moral sentiment, to lengthen the scenes sufficiently that 
 they would encompass the time desired for an evening's En- 
 tertainment. In my poem I have only brought in three of 
 the characters — Virginia, Virginius her father, and Icelius 
 her !over. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 317 
 
 VIRGINIA 
 
 Icelius, her lover, speaks : 
 
 List Romans, while I speak to thee ! 
 
 My time is brief — for Appius deems it so. 
 Will he enslave what heaven's given me, 
 
 Sully the sweet treasure the Gods have left below r 
 
 Men, Romans, I appeal to you ! 
 
 Look on the one who frames the law for Rome! 
 He's mantled freedom's hope, to hell pursue, 
 
 To claim our sisters, daughters and our home. 
 
 But I, for one, forbid those pandering hands, 
 
 To pollute what Gods and death alone can clean, 
 
 When virtue is cast aside by sceptered wands, 
 'Tis time for plebeian grace to step between. 
 
 Will we uphold what Gods have crushed before? 
 
 Will we uphold what Gods will crush to come? 
 Will we uphold what Gods have cursed and more? 
 
 And sanction rape more grave than Pluto done? 
 
 Pluto sought by force and made her Queen, 
 
 His motive noble — his aggression brave. 
 He made her equal in power and graceful mien, 
 
 Nor did he virtue blight — and to vice enslave. 
 
 Born free — and yet must live a slave, 
 
 Born pure and still must live impure, 
 Born for me yet stolen by a knave, 
 
 Sick waiting virtue — poison be thy cure. 
 
 Virginius, the father, speaks : 
 
 She is my flesh and blood, heaven willed it so, 
 
 Not even Gods can change what has been done. 
 
 With subtle mind you strive with works below, 
 To take what heaven gives — my only one. 
 
318 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 You say she is a slave — look well and long, 
 
 Do peaches grow from hazel bush and briars ? 
 
 She is but mine — to me she does belong, 
 
 Who contradicts my word — they're false ; they're liars. 
 
 Was I not near when light of day first shone 
 
 Upon this budding flesh — my babe — my child? 
 
 In travail, pain, in suffering, mother's own, 
 
 That bids Virginia ours, this name we styled. 
 
 And now you take from out a soldier's breast, 
 
 A soldier, I repeat, and one of Rome, 
 If I'll shed blood for state it is a test, 
 
 I'll do the same for honor, child and home. 
 
 If you remove from out this breast its heart, 
 I'll caution you, as man to man I speak ; 
 
 For in its place you leave a poisoned dart, 
 
 That strengthens muscles as the mind grows weak. 
 
 Nor need we moral laws on tables carved, 
 
 For Gods have carved them on the air we breathe, 
 
 Conscience feeds where Rome's patricians starved, 
 
 Truth, virtue, right, that needs no crown nor wreath. 
 
 She gave her heart to one she loves the best, 
 
 A heart that's young, that vibrates to the mind ; 
 
 Nor can you tear apart — they do invest, 
 
 The soul's repose loves tendrils have entwined. 
 
 True love's tenure is forever and a day, 
 
 True love's tenure isn't love when forced to yield. 
 
 A King may force affections, "coup d'etat," 
 
 And win the "battle," vanquished from the field. 
 
 And now you use the force of Rome to win, 
 
 A blushing maiden and no quarter give, 
 You even take from her her natal kin, 
 
 And let her slowly "die a death" to live. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 319 
 
 Ah, Rome! Rome! Rome! Hear my voice, 
 Not only living Rome, but Romans dead ! 
 Of vice or virtue, what would be thy choice, 
 
 Roman heroes ! You who fought and bled ! 
 
 Will you with Roman blood wash out the stain, 
 Or will you shield the purple garment pure? 
 
 Or will you let it writhe in deathless pain, 
 That has no ending, or that has no cure? 
 
 No, no, I hear — I hear from out the grave, 
 
 The noble rise, I see their sanctioning nods, 
 
 "No free-born girl shall be a Claudian slave, 
 
 To mar dead Romans or to shame their Gods." 
 
 Virginia speaks: 
 
 O father, father, take me in your arms, 
 
 Why should he take me from my home and friends ? 
 (He hugged her closely — the hug that never harms, 
 
 That hope and comfort for a moment lends.) 
 
 Why should he want me! What am I to do? 
 What can I do? What will he want of me? 
 
 father, father, I appeal to you, 
 
 For my Icelius with whom I love to be. 
 
 Last night my dreams — father, do dreams come true? 
 
 1 dreamed that you had taken me away, 
 
 1 was not far, nor was I near to you, 
 
 You called, then led me where I was to stay. 
 
 I saw an entrance to a chamber far, 
 
 Its entrance dark — the clouds were melting fast, 
 That had obscured a bright and lingering star 
 
 That seemed for me, tho it was fleeting fast. 
 
320 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Appius soliloquizes: 
 
 Dreams — I interpret well her dream, 
 
 I am the star she sees beyond the gloom. 
 
 When the mist I've brushed away to let it beam, 
 Into her present life, that is the room. 
 
 Those eyes so bright to heaven are akin, 
 
 Tho they rebuke, they rekindle my desires, 
 
 For reluctant glances in their sparkling, 
 Arouse my spirit to love's latent fires. 
 
 Age makes me tremble, and my hair is gray, 
 
 Still I keep company with the wants of youth, 
 
 I've never known of love until today, 
 
 Tho it pains this maiden, still it is the truth. 
 
 While young the mind, if volatile and light, 
 
 Like the evening mist — it scatters everywhere, 
 
 It kisses every flower, then takes its flight, 
 And dies away by sunlight in the air. 
 
 Tho older minds are like the morning dew. 
 
 That falls at moonlight when the world is still, 
 
 As mine on yonder lily — Virgin — you, 
 
 Has fallen and will thru your form distil. 
 
 Icelius speaks : 
 
 How incompatible for age to speak, 
 
 Of love for youth, when trembling near the grave. 
 Your life is done, tho still you farther seek, 
 
 For a youthful maid in morbid passion crave. 
 
 What right have you to her? She is for me, 
 Let Virginia choose — let her lips decide. 
 
 Speak up, my darling, which one will it be, 
 For which will your dear heart divide? 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 321 
 
 It words were loud as actions, a deafening roar 
 Would be expelled from out a maiden's chest; 
 
 She'd scream the name she chose, and even more, 
 She'd run and faint upon her lover's breast. 
 
 Both plebs and patricians, Appius has spoke his mind, 
 He told you his own heart has opened wide. 
 
 Three score and ten he's lived and now to find 
 A maid to love this side the Great Divide. 
 
 Men ! Romans ! Be worthy of the name ! 
 
 When tyranny assails our natural rights, 
 Tis not Virginia alone, but a common shame, 
 
 That will obscure liberty's brightest lights. 
 
 Appius speaks : 
 
 Measure your words! Guard your actions well. 
 
 Lictors press the rabble back and heed my call. 
 The verdict she in Claudian hands has fell, 
 
 She now is mine — I own her soul and all. 
 
 Virginius, her father, speaks : 
 
 Appius, since Providence has torn from me, 
 My girl, so grant a last caress. Do this ! 
 
 A last caress, I say, and last I promise thee, 
 Those living lips shall have a parent kiss. 
 
 Appius speaks: 
 
 The most that I could do is grant you this. 
 
 You may proceed, tho may your time be brief. 
 For the nectar on those lips are for my kiss, 
 
 Of love and ecstasy — and not a parent's grief. 
 
 Her eyes with joy at this began to flood, 
 
 She ran into his arms with childish lust, 
 
 As the lamb licks the hand that sheds its blood, 
 For here she died — he gave the fatal thrust. 
 
322 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Virginius speaks: 
 
 To Gods and men: My promise is fulfilled, 
 
 A second Lucretia's blood — to wash the state. 
 
 Virginia's life it seems the Gods have willed, 
 
 That she, thru death, should lift declining fate. 
 
 Take what is left with my sincere regrets, 
 
 That I must sacrifice a pure young life for Rome, 
 
 At the bar in heaven where the exalted Jurist sits, 
 
 He will judge my motive when I'm taken "home." 
 
 Appius here, upon the Forum floor, 
 
 Is the, sequel of your passion and of mine. 
 
 Survey your ruin in this solemn gore, 
 
 Feast on her lifeblood — your inauspicious wine. 
 
 Appius "fecit" — he did it — it is finished, 
 
 Bewail the virgin that passed thru heaven's portal, 
 
 Where life's increased as times on earth's diminished. 
 Where she's immaculate, immutable and immortal. 
 
 Now you're to bite upon the shaded side, 
 Fruit she was to taste, you must devour, 
 
 For poison plants grow best when light's denied, 
 
 Like deadly night shade — cankering Claudian power. 
 
 The goat's now sheared and Romans see the pelt, 
 As an ostrich that tries to hide his head, 
 
 Now drink the draught, dealing as you dealt, 
 That takes you on an unretraceable tread. 
 
 The daughters now of men, once more secure, 
 
 Without divine afflatus for a guide, 
 A revolution thru a virgin pure, 
 
 Synonymous virgin and Virginia will abide. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 323 
 
 MOTHER, FVE COME HOME TO DIE 
 
 Once I knew a wayward boy 
 
 Who lived upon a farm. 
 A life he never did enjoy 
 
 Tho one devoid of harm, 
 
 "Mother/' he said one day in May, 
 
 "This life out here is slow. 
 I know not where — but I'm going away, 
 
 I'm going away I know. 
 
 "I want to know of other men, 
 
 And take all life can give. 
 I'll cast this life from out my ken, 
 
 I'm going away to live." 
 
 "My child, why leave your mother's side? 
 
 On you I do depend, 
 While I'm to live with me abide, 
 
 For I'm your dearest friend. 
 
 "For an unsophisticated one 
 
 Like you, my only child, 
 You'll find the world is hard, my son, 
 
 For you — for one so mild." 
 
 "But I want to see what others do; 
 
 I want to do as they. 
 I'll make my way by wit in lieu — 
 
 For here I cannot stay." 
 
 He dresses and says a long good bye, 
 
 His clothes he has outgrown, 
 She packed his bag with bread and pie, 
 
 His first to eat alone. 
 
324 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 "I'll say good bye because I must, 
 But not because I would, 
 
 Not in you, son — in God I'll trust, 
 To keep you well and good. 
 
 "When you have seen you may return, 
 
 At day or late at night, 
 I'll leave a lamp turned low to burn, 
 
 For you, my only light." 
 
 She watched him as the distance grew 
 Between mother's heart and son. 
 
 Space was cutting souls in two 
 That always had been one. 
 
 The metropolis was first to draw, 
 
 The cabarets and shows. 
 He tasted wine, he woman saw, 
 
 Quite soon he sees and knows. 
 
 He knows both woman, wine and song, 
 He learned this quick and well, 
 
 He took the road that led him wrong, 
 The short wide road to hell. 
 
 Wild western life came to his mind, 
 
 To follow up the trail 
 Of men before him who would find, 
 
 Some solace when they fail. 
 
 Herding cattle on bronco's backs, 
 
 And mining gold he tried, 
 Sans hope he drove the mountain hacks, 
 
 Two western ponies pied. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 325 
 
 From good to bad — from bad to worse, 
 
 On and on he went, 
 Until to replenish his empty purse, 
 
 Would criminal tricks invent. 
 
 He murdered in a gambling den, 
 
 To gain a little wealth. 
 The jury gave him years but ten, 
 
 In prison he lost his health. 
 
 He served his time, his eye grew dim 
 As he thought of the burning lamp 
 
 In the window home to welcome him 
 Who now was but a tramp. 
 
 He had no health, he had no wealth ; 
 
 The law and its searching eye, 
 He evaded it with cunning stealth, 
 
 To wander home to die. h | 
 
 He wandered home, this forward boy, 
 
 A total wreck was he, 
 What heaven had done he did destroy, 
 
 Now a derelict on the human sea. 
 
 With little to come and less to give, 
 
 Except pleasing mother's eye, 
 Tho he had gone away to live, 
 
 He's going home to die. 
 
 He passed the village and the school, 
 And church where mother prayed, 
 
 And, too, he passed the swimming pool, 
 And grave where father laid. 
 
 This caused his heart to beat with pain, 
 
 These reminders of the past. 
 If he could live life o'er again 
 
 He would not live the last. 
 
326 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 He met his playmates who had grown 
 To man's estate and prime, 
 
 Farms and houses they now own, 
 While he must beg to dine. 
 
 He wandered till he reached the home ; 
 
 It was the hour of night, 
 Mother waiting there alone, 
 
 Praying by the welcome light. 
 
 Praying for her boy's return, 
 The words, "Come home, I pray, 
 
 I've waited long — for him I yearn, 
 God bring him home today." 
 
 And there she sat with open book, 
 Her sleepy head would nod, 
 
 As for the prodigal son would look, 
 While she read the word of God. 
 
 He followed the light up to the door, 
 
 And thereupon he rapped, 
 And entered in, in a moment more, 
 
 And aroused her as she napped. 
 
 She raised from out her old armchair, 
 She saw what mothers love, 
 
 Her son — the answer to her prayer, 
 From God in heaven above. 
 
 "Is this my boy?" she asked in tears, 
 
 He said, "Yes, dear, 'tis I. 
 But not the boy of yester years, 
 
 Listen — I'll tell you why. 
 
 "I've lost my health, I've gained no wealth, 
 I've sinned and committed crime. 
 
 All pain that's known to men I've felt 
 While I was serving time. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 327 
 
 "Dear mother, to you what's left I give, 
 
 My wasted form — for I — " 
 At this she said, "You've come to live." 
 
 "No dear, I've come to die." 
 
 "All good is gone ; I'm a human sieve. 
 
 My soul I've drained it dry. 
 I went away from you to live, 
 
 But I've come back to. die," 
 
 She pressed him to her breast at this 
 
 With joy and sorrowful cry, 
 As she pressed on him a mother's kiss, 
 
 "If you must go — may I ?" 
 
 From this sad hour her life was brief, 
 
 Their hopes in bye and bye, 
 For another start death turned the leaf, 
 
 That in heaven they may try. 
 
 Two souls unto their God they give, 
 
 Too soon — tho this is why — 
 In going away from home to live, 
 
 Then coming back to die. 
 
328 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 IF I WERE GOD 
 
 If I were God, what would I do? 
 
 Of the many ways, which one pursue 
 
 To ameliorate and right the wrong 
 
 That to society belong? 
 
 Whom would I praise? In whom find fault? 
 
 Whom would I humble and whom exalt? 
 
 Whom should I curse? Whom raise on high? 
 
 And whom as Saint beatify? 
 
 And those whose contemplations blend 
 
 With mine, and upward may transcend — 
 
 With such, regardless of their race, 
 
 On earth I'd meet them face to face, 
 
 And if I fail to save a soul 
 
 At least Td make their bodies whole. 
 
 I'd have no senile on life's stage 
 
 To play life's drama of old age, 
 
 I'd do as Sibyl would in truth 
 
 I'd give mankind eternal youth, 
 
 With cheeks refulgent, rosy flush — 
 
 The livery of innocence, childish blush. 
 
 The germs of sickness I would scorch, 
 
 I'd send Prometheus to light his torch 
 
 From off the sun, the antique plane, 
 
 And return to earth in behalf of man. 
 
 I'd make woman calm and not to rule, 
 
 But full of grace and beautiful. 
 
 I'd heighten the brilliancy of their station — 
 
 The fairest objects of creation. 
 
 I'd have Pandora with raven locks 
 
 Return to earth and refill her box; 
 
 With trouble on mankind she hurled 
 
 When first she came into the world. 
 
 On the plains of Enna still should dwell, 
 
 From out the garden of Asphodel, 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 329 
 
 Fair Proserpine exempt of rape 
 To her mother Ceres all year escape — 
 Gowned in flowers above the sod. 
 This I would do, if I were God. 
 
 If I were God, what would I do? 
 Instead of peace with war in lieu. 
 Of the bellicose, which should I choose? 
 Which side to gain and which to lose ? 
 Whom should I punish and whom dissolve? 
 Whom condone and whom absolve? 
 If armistice to help the Fates 
 Of neutrals, would I choose the States? 
 To bring earth bliss and stop the war, 
 Cause strife to cease and peace restore, 
 By crushing well the leading fiend 
 Of Zeppelin^ fame and submarine; 
 And still let Britain rule the main, 
 And mold big guns and soldiers train? 
 For where old Union Jack you see, 
 Whether on the land or on the sea, 
 Three crosses crossed, I'd let it be — 
 Peace, love and light for liberty ! 
 They take, but in return they give, 
 They believe in "living and let live/' 
 Td let her navy rule the brine, 
 In helping her I'm helping mine. 
 Wherever Tommy Atkins trod 
 I'd let him rule if I were God. 
 
 If I were God, this I would do: 
 
 I'd make sun brighter — heaven more blue. 
 
 I'd never let the flowers fade, 
 
 I'd have no dying leaf or blade, 
 
 I'd blot out winter, have summer twice. 
 
 I'd make this world a paradise, 
 
330 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 I'd reveal my word to all about — 
 
 They'd all believe and none would doubt 
 
 But that the Logos was truly mine — 
 
 Wisdom, infinite, divine. 
 
 I'd make all women pure as dew. 
 
 Fd have all lovers faithful, true; 
 
 The initial kiss, I'd make it long, 
 
 With life a poem and love a song. 
 
 No cross or icon, and no crest. 
 
 No emblazoned arrow through a breast, 
 
 To herald sacrificial fame 
 
 And by it die to take my name. 
 
 But as a circle that has no end, 
 
 On and on your way may wend — 
 
 As time and space that never'll cease 
 
 To signify perpetual peace. 
 
 The olive branch an<d gentle dove 
 
 For war and unrequited love, 
 
 And Psyches with malignant wound 
 
 By Cupid's arrow would be crowned; 
 
 And he astray who may have led 
 
 Will change from hate to love and wed. 
 
 I'll have no sins as the "deadly seven" 
 
 To obstruct the way of birth to heaven. 
 
 I'll have no sorrow or parting tear, 
 
 I'll have no hell below or here, 
 
 I'll have no murder or Macbeth, 
 
 No parturition and no death. 
 
 I'd have my angels instead of birth 
 
 Bring little children to the earth. 
 
 I'd have no Hamlets to play insane, 
 
 Or original sin from a second Cain ; 
 
 No suicide shall here abide 
 
 No fratricide nor uxorcide 
 
 No homicide nor sorocide, 
 
 No patricide nor matricide 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 331 
 
 No regicide nor parricide, 
 To make the race so horrified, 
 But all on foot and all on wing 
 Shall love each other and shall sing 
 Hallellujah to the power above — 
 To me, their God, with praise and love ; 
 And before my altar in reverence nod, 
 All this, I'd do if I were God. 
 
 A RING 
 
 A ring is a circle of gold, 
 
 It has no beginning or end, 
 A symbol — it has often been told, 
 
 Of infinite love of a friend. 
 
 The heart that beats for the one 
 
 That has tendered this emblem of time, 
 
 Will pulsate the blood it will run, 
 
 Thru the band on the finger that's thine. 
 
 It binds, winds and reminds, 
 As thru pages of ages its done, 
 
 Two hearts with a vow it entwines, 
 And holds them both into one. 
 
 'Tis placed with a promise — a vow, 
 'Tis placed with a love-searching eye, 
 
 'Tis received with a kiss and a bow, 
 To be worn until they may die. 
 
 Even then the vow and the ring, 
 
 For a promise that is pure like the gold, 
 
 Past memories sweet it will bring, 
 
 Tho tarnished in the grave by the mold. 
 
332 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 LOOKING BACK 
 
 I've made a resolution; 
 
 My life I will commute, 
 By the problem of self solution 
 
 To take the narrow route. 
 
 The iridescent white way, 
 The music halls and stage, 
 
 The maelstrom called Broadway, 
 Youth's enchanting cage. 
 
 Dine, wine and dancing, 
 A Medusa without her locks, 
 
 I a Siren entrancing, 
 Ships upon the rocks. 
 
 The latest vogue in dresses 
 
 French creations I would wear, 
 
 And the famed Bernice's tresses, 
 To imitate would dare. 
 
 I'd waste my time massaging, 
 My arms, my neck and face, 
 
 I'd use pulchritude in dodging, 
 Age that won the race. 
 
 From the battlefield I'm limping, 
 
 All I won, I've lost, 
 For the man that's won by primping, 
 
 Is never worth the cost. 
 
 Now my heart is yearning, 
 For that which can't be found 
 
 On Broadway, so I'm turning 
 About, I'm looking 'round. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 333 
 
 I'm going to walk the narrows, 
 
 The wholesome lonely way, 
 Now Cupid's shot his arrows, 
 
 That've glanced and gone astray. 
 
 To a farm that's far from Broadway, 
 
 I want with nature's light, 
 To feed my body through the day, 
 
 And shelter me at night. 
 
 I want a man with brain and brawn, 
 
 Who worships me not pelf, 
 Tho nights may come, he's never gone, 
 
 He loves me for myself. 
 
 This home, its blessings must be dual, 
 
 Its forest wide in form, 
 Whose shades in summer keep me cool, 
 
 In winter keep me warm. 
 
 I hope to have a little girl, 
 
 To teach and to persuade, 
 By pointing to my brain awhirl, 
 
 From mistakes her mother made. 
 
 I hope my dreams are not too late, 
 
 Too late to change my ways, 
 I always thought that time would wait, 
 
 That life's not made of days. 
 
 Oft precepts of my mother come, 
 "Don't waste your feeble power, 
 
 For man can't make a single crumb, 
 Nor add to life an hour ; 
 
334 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 "As long as power from power'l feed, 
 
 On food of latent breath, 
 We're normal till they cease to heed, 
 
 The cause of beauty's death." 
 
 Now I have reached the time in life, 
 
 Where failure looks around, 
 And sees life's fruit is overripe, 
 
 And fallen to the ground. 
 
 And that is what I'm doing now, 
 
 Though late to fight and win, 
 The thought a pleasure does allow, 
 
 Of what I might have been. 
 
 'Tis past, I've lost and time has won, 
 
 But may it serve for you, 
 Not to do as I have done, 
 
 But as I now would do. 
 
 I had no tears, but lots of time, 
 
 And I fooled away my years, 
 But things have changed, sorrow fell in line, 
 
 Now I have no time, but tears. 
 
 A useless life is a living dead, 
 
 By experience I have found ; 
 If when you're young, you'll look ahead, 
 
 In age needn't look around. 
 
 We all mistakes in life will make, 
 
 It seems to be our fate, 
 Alarm yourself in time, awake 
 
 Before it is too late. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 335 
 
 Paul when young, he started wrong, 
 
 But he raised above the fall, 
 And now church bells in their ding dong, 
 
 Ring out "St. Paul, St. Paul." 
 
 He saw the light with blinded eyes, 
 
 And he heard the Savior call, 
 And unto us the same applies, 
 
 As to the Apostle Paul. 
 
 As the scroll of life by time unrolls, 
 Your acts right free from shame, 
 
 At the bottom line before it folds, 
 Be proud to sign your name. 
 
 THE SOUL OF THE SUN 
 
 The Angelus ringing reminds me 
 
 That the evening of life is at hand. 
 Death takes me away as he finds me, 
 
 Time loaned — I am to pay on demand. 
 
 The stillness and beauty of sundown 
 Is the flounce to the skirting of day, 
 And the main-spring of life that is run down 
 Still lives — yet it passes away. 
 
 There's a soul to the day that is dying, 
 
 For the soul of the sun is its light ; 
 Tho under the sea it is lying 
 
 Living dead tho its grave makes our night. 
 
 Oh, Death's like the sun in its sinking; 
 
 We live, but to dust we have gone. 
 Of the cup of life we're thru drinking 
 
 Then the sun-setting soul must pass on. 
 
336 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 THE THEIST 
 
 He believes not of the Holy Word, 
 Of Pluto's realm or Elysian field, 
 
 To him all classic myth is blurred, 
 
 All lacks the proof of truth revealed. 
 
 The Avesta, Vedas, Talmud, he 
 Cannot accept it with a nod, 
 
 Nor of the Holy Trinity; 
 
 Still, he believes there is a God. 
 
 The books of wisdom and of lore, 
 And sages, fathers of the church, 
 
 He accepts as ontologic bore 
 And continues on his search. 
 
 He believes the mountains and the sea 
 And the carpet of the earth, the sod, 
 
 Is proof enough for him and we 
 That sun is shadow of a God. 
 
 The "Fortunate Isles" called "Avalon," 
 Earth's heaven for the blest ; 
 
 Columbus proved the poets wrong 
 Twas America of the West. 
 
 And the Amaranthine nomadic one 
 That forced Christ up the rue — 
 
 Christ said, "I'll go, but till I come 
 You'll be The Wandering Jew'." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 337 
 
 The Theist devours the above for lore 
 
 And the Mabinogean of Wales, 
 With Odin's Ragnarck and Thor, 
 
 But never credits miracles. 
 
 Then Valhalla or the hero heaven 
 
 That's only won by valorous deed, 
 Valkyries leads them there, 'tis given 
 
 In the Nibelungenlied. 
 
 He'll peruse the Crusades of Middle Ages, 
 "Jerusalem Delivered/' by Tasso, add 
 
 The Cid, and Roland's Furioso rages 
 With Don Quixote and the Lusiad. 
 
 His will's not free, he is to toil 
 For gentle passion and humility, 
 
 To fit a Janson for Port Royal 
 
 And grow the "herb of immortality." 
 
 Tho an antithesis is his reason 
 He postulates a God creation. 
 
 He studied Herschel to only season 
 Berengarian transubstantiation. 
 
 Aristotle and Kant he reads, 
 Phylo and Origen in between, 
 
 On Hume and Descartes he feeds, 
 And "The City of God" by Augustine. 
 
338 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 He reads Darwin, Spinoza and Tyndall, 
 
 Aquinas, a Kempis and Pascal, 
 Then Bullfinch or Ossian's Fingal, 
 With Montaigne, Hobbs, Rousseau and Heckel. 
 
 He reads Hesiod, Horace and Homer, 
 The Koran, Lao Tsze and Confucius, 
 
 With Virgil and Pausanius the roamer, 
 Then Newton, Kepler and Copurnicus. 
 
 He reads Bacon, Huxley and Spencer, 
 
 Locke, Lessing, Laplace and the Sagas, 
 
 In Dante he smells of Hell's censer, 
 
 And he turns to the works of Pelagius. 
 
 Socinianism is his choosing, 
 
 To Erasmus and Voltaire he'll knuckle, 
 
 To him Ovid and Pindar's amusing, 
 
 For Thesaurus 'tis A. Smith and Buckle. 
 
 To him Solifidian teachings are evil, 
 He is Zoilean and Phyrrhonian now. 
 
 He deletes "personality of devil," 
 In Pythagoras he'll partly allow. 
 
 Manashean and Coptic are schisms, 
 
 The schoolman and gnostics the same, 
 
 Nestorians and Arians are isms, 
 
 To him Shinto and Buddha are lame. 
 
 The austerities of Hindu Swami, 
 
 Or before Icon of Greek could he kneel ; 
 
 The Bon worships or Tibet's daal llama, 
 Nor Parsee of Bombay can he feel. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 339 
 
 Nor Saturn of the age that was golden, 
 
 Nor the idols of Baal in the grove, 
 The pyrolatry worship of olden, 
 
 Nor Zeus, the Olympian Jove. 
 
 Judaismic latria of the Psalter, 
 
 And the Pentateuch of Zealots he sips. 
 
 With the rest if he could he'd not alter, 
 From Genesis to the Apocalypse. 
 
 The Gospels are an immortal fountain 
 
 That spray a beautiful rule; 
 With the sermon Christ gave on the mountain, 
 
 To the Theist is a soulful school. 
 
 He's regenerating life alone teaches, 
 
 He felt and lived what he taught. 
 His word moves the soul that it reaches 
 
 But was he the "logos" promised wrought ? 
 
 He believes God's daily addressing 
 
 His children of earth through the doves. 
 
 The celestial way of expressing 
 
 His care for the world that He loves. 
 
 Then to nature Theist comes for believing, 
 In the phenomena of life plainly sees — 
 
 That God is forever revealing 
 
 Himself in the flowers and the trees. 
 
340 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 GREECE OF OLD 
 
 Athens, Athens, fairest of them all ! 
 The home of ancient gods — the exhorting place of Paul. 
 In the land of classic myth — in Elysian fields and grove, 
 The hunting grounds of Greeks — and of the Olympian Jove. 
 
 Where the Areopagus of old-bred philosophers renown, 
 The city of Stoic lore and of the violet crown, 
 The fair acropolis on the hill crumbling to the breeze, 
 The scar of centuries dead, since the age of Pericles. 
 
 There is bold history on all sides, sweet legend to the ear, 
 With marble Athens in the front and destruction in the rear. 
 Here are namesakes of the Gods — of cities, lands and seas, 
 And where Philippics first were heard from the great 
 Demosthenes. 
 
 And here, where Persian hosts were tamed by men who 
 
 fought to free 
 Themselves from out impending doom at the Pass Ther- 
 
 mopalae ! 
 And there is Marathon, that looks far out upon the sea, 
 From where the courier ran to tell they'd won and now 
 
 were free. 
 
 There's Delphi in the north — its oracles of old, 
 That used to herald in the spring, and of the harvest gold 
 Mount Parnassus ! O ! that range of which old poets sing, 
 Here the Olympian throne of Gods — here flows the Cas- 
 tillian spring. 
 
 Here where Spartans won their fame, since Spartan valor 
 
 thus, 
 Became synonymous, in a word, since Leonidas. 
 And here the isle where Sappho sang, for she it was, I trow, 
 That Cupid wounded in her breast, with his unerring bow. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 341 
 
 Where hills once echoed her sweet songs, this was her way 
 
 to weep, 
 And then to heal her heart by death — she made the fatal 
 
 leap. 
 But Gods could see a place ahead where she could be of use, 
 To the other nine on Helicon, they added her as Muse. 
 
 The soil of every Grecian isle, once peripatetics trod, 
 
 To philosophize on heavenly realms and create another God. 
 
 And of these sages, old and wise, the greatest failed to 
 
 please, 
 He who styled a living God, the grand old Socrates. 
 
 He shattered hand-made marble gods, or made them all the 
 
 same, 
 With omniscient mind he invested them — before our Jesus 
 
 came. 
 Nor did he value earthly life, or fame, or golden pelf, 
 He said the greatest thing to know is to know thyself. 
 
 And another in this age of lore — a Stoic sage of ease, 
 Whose home was but a common tub — his name Diogenes. 
 With lantern he would go by day, around with it he ran ; 
 On asking what he sought with it he said, "An honest man." 
 
 Still of another I must speak — of Plato grand and wise, 
 Whose words, tho handed down to us, transcendently arise. 
 His republic here could never be — 'twould have to be above. 
 How many men could live a life — a life of "Platonic" Love? 
 
 For who could live with a maiden fair, with handsome form 
 
 and face, 
 Compelled to look upon and love, but never to embrace? 
 If I could live life o'er again, and live the old, old ways, 
 I'd choose the Grecian soil for mine, I'd choose the classic 
 
 days. 
 
342 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 If death could shrink the gap of years, how quick my life 
 
 Fd give, 
 Instead of living a life of death, in dying I would live. 
 Fd live in days when the human soul was omnipresent in art, 
 The spirit was of the wilful brain — while the soul was of the 
 
 heart. 
 
 The citadel of ancient days, with Parthenon on its brow, 
 Where many fluted columns stood they're only sixteen now. 
 No eye has ever seen on earth, you can sail the seven seas, 
 And fail to find a Phidias or a Praxiteles. 
 
 In every church throughout the world, from the toll of all 
 
 their bells, 
 It reminds of one who walked these shores, his name, how 
 
 sweet it spells, 
 As the sexton pulls the ropes to ring, a summons to us all, 
 It seems to speak in its mournful tone — "St. Paul, St. Paul !" 
 
 And nearby is the hill of Mars, that Paul has given fame, 
 They worshipped gods unknown to them, he introduced 
 
 one's name. 
 He said on tombs, "I see dear friends, as thru your city trod, 
 You dedicate your dead unto the unknown God." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 343 
 
 HECTOR'S FAREWELL TO ANDROMACHE AND 
 
 HIS CHILD 
 
 Astyanax, my boy ! ah, let me hold, 
 
 Hold and behold — perhaps 'twill be the last. 
 
 These warring hands will ever chance to mold, 
 
 These youthful limbs 
 
 That are my pride. 
 
 And flooding tears that swim 
 
 Above their normal tide, 
 
 That I have failed to hide 
 
 From my family fold. 
 
 Ah, that foreboding fear 
 
 Of Grecians bold. 
 
 My Andromache, dear, 
 
 Let memories sweet abide 
 
 When dissolution's here. 
 
 Mother Hecuba prompts me stay ; 
 Father Priam cautions me 
 To retire and not rejoin the fray. 
 And you the same, my Andromache! 
 That word I love to speak, 
 And the one that pains me leave. 
 But no longer can I dwell 
 On sentiment puerile, weak, 
 For Achilles comes they tell ; 
 Then where's my time to grieve? 
 So good bye, my all, farewell, 
 The enemy I must seek. 
 
 Hector, you owe to the child and me — 
 To a faithful wife, you owe — 
 You owe to a mother that will be, 
 Where, the Gods only know 
 If I am left alone 
 
344 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 To think of a smoldering pile, 
 And over it to moan, 
 O ! Hector, I love you so ! 
 You must abide awhile, 
 Revoke for once the style, 
 And think of me and home, 
 Before you go. 
 For the first and last below 
 Is your family, flesh and bone ; 
 Your child to make you smile, 
 The seed that you have sown. 
 I repeat — abide awhile! 
 Your answer — yes or no? 
 
 So fond — need I repeat? 
 
 The truth is in my tears, 
 
 My heart, it's every beat 
 
 Is not for fears, 
 
 Or the hero who appears, 
 
 That Hector so defies. 
 
 But your sweet self endears ; 
 
 Your love, form, face and eyes, 
 
 Your manners, smiles and sighs. 
 
 There's nothing to delete 
 
 Of you or of past years. 
 
 But Trojan fame and state 
 
 And the patronymic name, 
 
 It calls — I should not wait, 
 
 Or I will be to blame. 
 
 It comes before our love, 
 
 For the enemy's at our gate, 
 
 To crush or blight our fame, 
 
 If such is to be our fate — 
 
 The spear and not the dove, 
 
 And I alone remain 
 
 To reinforce the reign. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 345 
 
 For Troy spoke he well, 
 
 He made a last embrace, 
 
 And in his last farewell 
 
 On his determined face, 
 
 Purporting lines to tell 
 
 That honor was more than life. 
 
 She read her answer well: 
 
 " 'Tis war, 'tis death and strife. 
 
 A parting word to you — 
 
 Adieu, ,a fond adieu." 
 
 "The time is ripe, 
 
 Achilles I'll persue !" 
 
 He turned from child and wife, 
 
 And before him thus he fell, 
 
 As he was born to do, 
 
 The Oracle all too true; 
 
 This was his last farewell. 
 
 TO COME 
 
 To come, to come ! the rest that is to come, 
 To come thru gates that death will swing ajar; 
 
 My weary limbs may rest in time to come — 
 In time not far. 
 
 And when it comes my soul as well will rest, 
 For in the flesh the soul is serving time, 
 
 To guide the human form it doth invest, 
 And then returns unto its native clime. 
 
 To come, to come ! the hours will not be long, 
 When back to its own essence, part will come. 
 
 Its only hope seems in this daily song, 
 Of time to come. 
 
346 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 DEATH'S GERENT 
 
 I saw him leave the Plutonian camp 
 
 This apparition stern. 
 One hand held a flameless lamp, 
 
 The other held an urn. 
 
 Short and tall he seemed to grow, 
 By gestures would convey : 
 
 "I'm the somber guide to realms below 
 You all must go my way." 
 
 The old, the young, the low and high, 
 With supercilious laughing cries, 
 
 He says, to humble pride, "Tis I 
 Who make you all one size. 
 
 "I separate the bride and groom, 
 Still I unite the groom and bride, 
 
 Tho not in youthful life abloom, 
 But in two graves aside. 
 
 "J take the child from mother's breast, 
 I take the mother from the child, 
 
 I lay the weary old to rest, 
 I rest the weary wild. 
 
 "I meet the frail and pass them by, 
 I meet the healthy and the strong. 
 
 The weak I let them live to sigh 
 And take the potent on. 
 
 "I take the bravest of the field 
 And let the coward stay, 
 
 The monarch to my wand must yield — 
 Capricious is my sway. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 347 
 
 "I have the wisdom of an owl — 
 
 As he I hate the light — 
 The time I love of all to prowl 
 
 When spirited by the night. 
 
 "Men to me are pawns and toys 
 
 Who make my labor glad. 
 Oft before my sword destroys 
 
 I make my victims mad. 
 
 "Sometimes I let my victim go, 
 
 I mark him, then I wait 
 To let him unto greatness grow, 
 
 Then vanquish from his state. 
 
 "As Simon's exile o'er the flood 
 
 After gaining fame, 
 I drove him to drink bullock's blood, 
 
 To die and hide his shame." 
 
 Death's vision told this all to me, 
 
 And what it still would do. 
 It said, "When done across the sea 
 
 I'm coming back to you." 
 
 Too true He's doing across and on, 
 
 With gun and submarine; 
 For with him millions now have gone, 
 
 Helped by the Kaiser fiend. 
 
 His evil passions selfly crowned 
 
 With blood his warring rations. 
 He rules more than six feet of ground, 
 
 He's King of Europe's nations. 
 
348 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Nor is he partial to the land, 
 Of late he loves the waters. 
 
 For every day he wields his wand 
 And a floating shambles slaughters. 
 
 Wherever life there is, is he 
 On land or sea or Zeppelin. 
 
 In seraphic realms he floats so free 
 And contemns Titanic Neptune. 
 
 NEWS FROM THE FRONT 
 
 The scene is of a sitting room, 
 
 Frugal, plain, and wholesome, clean. 
 
 Lit by the fireplace and the moon, 
 An open letter can be seen 
 
 Lying on the table near, 
 
 That's just been read and laid aside; 
 Its purport reads of Henry dear, 
 
 Who'd gone to war and died. 
 
 The two who sit with drooping head — 
 The ticking clock the only sound — 
 
 For what they've labored, loved and bled, 
 Lies buried in the ground. 
 
 The paper came, father could read 
 
 Nor could poor mother sew. 
 They could only moan and to heaven plead 
 
 For what was dearest to them below. 
 
 Faint words beneath their bated breath 
 At times from them you'd hear. 
 
 Impromptu sighs of "death, death, death !" 
 And "O, my boy ! Dear, dear !" 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 349 
 
 PESSIMISM 
 
 This world is a world of sorrow — 
 
 We're born without our consent. 
 We are forced by death in "tomorrow," 
 
 Then why to earth were we sent? 
 
 Did we sin in a world that was better? 
 
 Were we sentenced to live here below, 
 To pay up our debts as a debtor, 
 
 As dues to some heaven we owe? 
 
 For life is but fever and itching, 
 
 From the cradle unto the grave. 
 For what is there here so bewitching 
 
 Except hope — and the future, to crave ? 
 
 Even in that we don't revel, 
 
 For no one seems to return 
 To tell us of heaven or devil, 
 
 If peace or in hell we're to burn. 
 
 It is pain, care and to suffer; 
 
 To subsist we must labor and chafe — 
 One's body for disease is a buffer, 
 
 The same with the Prince as the waif. 
 
 When children were governed by parent, 
 When puberty arrives we're defiled; 
 
 By passion of youth so inherent, 
 In old age again we're a child. 
 
 When babies, we're impotent and useless, 
 
 Adolescence is only in school. 
 When senile we're dried up and juiceless, 
 
 As adults pugnacious and cruel. 
 
350 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 If we believe the soul is immortal 
 Or believe in the land of the leal, 
 
 It's by faith that we view heaven's portal, 
 For religion does little reveal. 
 
 We postulate empyrical theories 
 And by natural religion deceive 
 
 Ourselves till ontology wearies 
 
 The more study the less we believe. 
 
 Then why be so serious in living 
 
 For we bring nothing here when we come. 
 
 We're forced to take strife in the giving 
 That we cannot leave off till we're done. 
 
 The outlook is vague for so many ; 
 
 They look around o'er the lands; 
 They know they're to dig every penny 
 
 Out of the ground with their hands. 
 
 Providence gave them their being, 
 A wight to be sheltered and fed. 
 
 If harmony, life's strings will need keying 
 With wine or the drug labeled red. 
 
 It's refuge till it loses its power, 
 
 And life as it is you detest. 
 Then the time has approached, yes the hour, 
 
 For you to disrobe and to rest. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 351 
 
 LIFE'S IMPEDIMENTS 
 
 We are forced on earth without our consent, 
 
 And we are forced away against our will. 
 
 We inherit disease, are crippled and deformed, 
 
 And predisposed to crime. 
 
 We are possessed of passions, 
 
 Temptations thrown in our way. 
 
 They bewilder us, we yield, 
 
 We form habits that undermine the will, steal the soul and 
 
 pollute the body; 
 They offer a moment's pleasure, 
 
 And incumber us with weeks of sorrow and suffering. 
 They engender pain and physical weakness. 
 They lead us from the path of rectitude and away from the 
 
 road to happiness. 
 By them we are disqualified, incapacitated and demoralized. 
 They render us subversive to society, and make us subjects of 
 
 charity. 
 We violate the law of both heaven and man, 
 We laugh at the national constitution and blaspheme the word 
 
 of God. 
 We purloin our neighbor's goods and belie our friends, 
 We neglect our children and abuse our wives. 
 We commit bigamy and polygamy, and carry on incestuous 
 
 commerce in clandestine consanguinity. 
 We marry our cousins and divorce our wives, 
 We speculate and peculate, tergiversate and subterfuge. 
 We sue and prosecute, defame and disorganize. 
 We desecrate and litigate, assail and assassinate, 
 Wound, murder and incriminate, defraud, dissemble and 
 
 dissipate, 
 Seduct, seduce, rape, ruin and ravish. 
 We have war and conflict, discord and conquest. 
 We are impudent and impetuous, indocile and indolent. 
 
352 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 We are cunning and covetous, penurious, parsimonious and 
 
 mercenary. 
 Pusillanimous, salacious and libidinous. 
 We become puerile in age and senile in youth. 
 Our hair becomes prematurely gray, our sight impaired, and 
 
 we lose our teeth, 
 Our hearing leaves us, polypus forms in our nose, our taste is 
 
 not keen. 
 The skin is wrinkled and old. 
 The joints swollen and distorted. 
 The back hunched, the legs bowed, 
 The step infirm, the gait slow. 
 
 We have paresis of the brain and paralysis of the limbs, 
 Atrophy of the muscles an.d hypertrophy of the heart, 
 Anemia of the flesh and hyperemia of the brain ; 
 Indigestion of the stomach and constipation of the bowels. 
 These are a few of the impediments and infirmities that we 
 
 are to live through and overcome to be happy. 
 
 MADE FOR US 
 
 It's taken God a million years 
 
 To make this grand old world. 
 It's taken him a million more — 
 
 Since into space he hurled — 
 To cool this tumbling, rumbling ball, 
 
 And vegetation grow. 
 It's taken time to make it all, 
 
 Above a id here below. 
 Before he made, he planned the lay, 
 
 How to make — and make it right. 
 He saw the sun would make the day, 
 
 And earth's own shade, the night. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 353 
 
 And when he'd grown a garden grand, 
 
 Resplendent with the palm and pine, 
 He waved again his mighty wand, 
 
 Over the plain and brine, 
 And in the sea the fish were born, 
 
 And in the jungle, brutes. 
 But the greatest still was to adorn 
 
 The earth with man that suits — 
 That suited him in every way — 
 
 His omnipotent opinion — 
 After him, could hold full sway, 
 
 And have o'er all, dominion. 
 
 Now, after his omniscient mind, 
 
 With all his time and labor, 
 Has the whole to us assigned, 
 
 With heaven for a neighbor, 
 As gratitude for this great gift, 
 
 We war our brothers, and we slay; 
 We oppress to death, nor do we lift — 
 
 The survival of the fittest stay. 
 Man draws the sword against the shield, 
 
 The one has fought the other. 
 The strong have caused the weak to yield, 
 
 Brother slaying brother. 
 
 He bore us to the earth to live 
 
 In common — to enjoy it. 
 Ruling wisdom to some he gave, 
 
 For brother's good employ it. 
 But we strive to conquer and to rule, 
 
 Both the sea, soil, sand and sod. 
 They fight to death a bloody duel, 
 
 For what belongs to God. 
 
354 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 HAPPINESS, LOVE, REASON AND GOOD 
 
 Robert G. Ingersoll, the agnostic, in his immortal tribute to 
 the memory of his deceased brother, offered the following 
 apophthegms in part, that have since become proverbial : 
 
 "Happiness is the only good, reason the only torch, human- 
 ity the only religion, justice the only worship, and love, the 
 priest." 
 
 I have taken the liberty of framing the following poem, from 
 the context of these sentiments. 
 
 POEM 
 
 After living a life at all angles and ways, 
 
 And even before kings you have stood, 
 
 You'll emerge from it all with on^e phrase to praise, 
 That "happiness is the only good." 
 
 You'll grope through the world with dogma for guide, 
 By faith without works, think you're right, 
 
 But to emerge from the darkness, you press fancy aside, 
 With reason as your staff and your light. 
 
 You may mentally reach for the realm of the soul, 
 
 And strive like a clipped winged pigeon, 
 But only to cease and accept as your toll, 
 
 "Humanity as your only religion. " 
 
 Then look ye around for the best to receive, 
 
 Tho the king may knight you in "Sir Ship," 
 
 There is something more potent, help the world to believe. 
 In justice the thing it should worship. 
 
 There're hopes in religion both natural and revealed, 
 But the recoil more natal to "pay men," 
 
 Lies in the God of man's conscience appealed, 
 To love as the priest for the layman. 
 
 Tomorrow's not here, then live for today, 
 
 In the province incarnate not understood, 
 
 First make heaven here that makes it away, 
 
 With the timber of happiness, love, reason and good. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 355 
 
 POETRY AND MUSIC 
 
 Poetry isn't poetry just because of rhyme, 
 Music isn't music alone, from tune and time ; 
 Poetry, real poetry, is a symbol made of words, 
 Transcendant in spirit to realms beyond the birds. 
 
 The significance of its theme in metaphors you seek 
 Recondite and mantled as reason is by sleep; 
 For while in our slumbers it really veils and screens 
 And renders us susceptible to the poetry of dreams, 
 
 So poetry, real poetry, to grasp you deeply reach 
 Far back of word scenery, the figures of our speech, 
 Cloaked too near obscurity from the vulgar in mind 
 Still lucid in sentiment as the water and the wind. 
 
 Poetry and song will always be, 
 
 It's always, always been, 
 In epics of all nations free 
 
 That keeps harmony within. 
 
 For Irene, Goddess of Ancient Greece, 
 Who nursed the King of Hell, 
 
 Even tho the Queen of Peace 
 She cast the harmonic spell. 
 
 There's harmony in the ankle joint 
 
 Of the smallest flea, 
 And where the Father does anoint, 
 
 Harmony there must be. 
 
 There's music in the playful brooks, 
 
 There's poetry in tears, 
 There's inspiration writ in books, 
 
 There's harmony in the spheres. 
 
356 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Poetry, poetry is not alone in words, 
 There's poetry in meadows, in forests, fields and herds. 
 There's poetry and music in Aurora and her Hours 
 That makes the earth a paradise, for there's poetry in 
 
 flowers. 
 There's poetry in the oceans and the rolling waves of seas, 
 There's music in the mountains and poetry in the bees. 
 There's music far in heaven 
 That faithful souls have healed, 
 And the Psalms and gospels given 
 Are by poetry revealed. 
 
 WHOM CAN WE BLAME? 
 
 Stupefied, stultified, 
 
 Sins dormant, though multiplied, 
 
 Devoid and depriven 
 
 Of good God has given, 
 
 Whether out or in prison, 
 
 Whom can we blame ? 
 
 Man's law has mummified, 
 Worse, it has crucified 
 The soul in the human frame, 
 Stamped with a telling name — 
 "Convict," a criminal's fame — 
 Crushed by post penal shame 
 Whom can we blame? 
 
 Questions ineffable, answer irrefragible 
 
 Discipline unimaginable, 
 
 In salubriety 
 
 For crumbs of society. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 357 
 
 O, toxic sobriety ! 
 Vile, surfeit satiety 
 Of sham, Christian piety, 
 Whom can we blame? 
 
 Man falls, goals claim him; 
 They stain the victim, cells frame him. 
 Stain him with blotting rules, 
 Conquer him with torturing tools, 
 Mix him up with knaves and fools, 
 Scare him, dare him if he can 
 Rise again and be a man ! 
 Whom can we blame? 
 
 Life's leaves are refolded, 
 Soul stamped and remolded 
 By the cold, dank and dreary, 
 Manumited though weary — 
 The world of them leary, 
 Whom can we blame? 
 
 Heaven's souls parentage 
 The earth's bodies heritage. 
 God points the position, 
 
 Fate formed the condition, 
 Whether priest or physician 
 Uplift is our mission, 
 Whom can we blame? 
 
 Make home of the prison 
 For Christ he has risen, 
 He descended to rise 
 To bridge human sighs; 
 His light knows no horizon, 
 Then sing a diapason, 
 "We are to blame !" 
 
358 
 
 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 "THE LORD'S PRAYER" PARAPHRASED 
 ACROSTIC 
 
 IN 
 
 Our 
 
 Father 
 
 Who 
 
 Art 
 
 In 
 
 Heaven 
 
 Hallowed 
 
 Be 
 
 Thy 
 
 Name. 
 
 Thy 
 
 Kingdom 
 
 Come 
 
 Thy 
 
 Will 
 
 Be 
 
 Done. 
 
 On 
 
 Earth 
 
 As 
 
 It 
 
 Is 
 
 In 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 Give 
 
 Us 
 
 This 
 
 Day 
 
 Our 
 
 Daily 
 
 Bread. 
 
 Father who art in heaven, 
 
 of all the living, 
 
 loveth all of us. His 
 
 and subtle hand maketh and crusheth us. 
 
 every land and on the seven seas knoweth thy 
 
 Its domain he proffereth us. [word. 
 
 be Thy name. 
 
 hallowed it always will 
 
 same in love and in 
 
 kingdom come, Thy will be done. Thy 
 
 of Thine only son. Who 
 
 to earth to teach, 
 
 word and taught thy 
 
 as he had willed it should 
 
 taught and 
 
 earth as it is in heaven and for 
 
 as Jesus has given. Given 
 
 from heaven. For 
 
 will always be on earth to be given. 
 
 why He has given 
 
 words from 
 
 us this day our daily bread. 
 
 this day this prayer be said. 
 
 day and every 
 
 by this be led. And 
 
 daily bread will 
 
 feed us heavenly 
 
 From 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 
 
 359 
 
 Lead 
 
 us not into temptation. Trust 
 
 Us 
 
 to our living ration, and if 
 
 Not 
 
 in Thy grace, then 
 
 In 
 
 Thy grace equal 
 
 To 
 
 Thy grace measured by the 
 
 Temptation 
 
 obscuring Thy grace 
 
 But 
 
 
 Deliver 
 
 us from evil 
 
 Us 
 
 deliver 
 
 From 
 
 evil 
 
 Evil 
 
 deliver from us 
 
 Amen. 
 
 
 A LIFE WITHOUT HOPE IS A CLOCK 
 WITHOUT HANDS 
 
 A man without hope 
 
 Is a clock without hands ; 
 With success failed to cope, 
 
 So helpless he stands. 
 
 Tho his body may run 
 
 The same as the clock, 
 And not show what it's done, 
 
 Except breathing — trick, tock! 
 
 It must be oiled and be fed, 
 
 To continue its gait, 
 'Tisn't oil nor the bread, 
 
 The record is the fate. 
 
 Out into space, 
 
 Surrounded by air, 
 There is nothing to trace, 
 
 Or nothing to compare. 
 
 For comparison is the rule, 
 That gives wisdom to life, 
 
 The first of our school 
 And the last of our strife. 
 
3<5o MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Of an object you are told, 
 At once you have styled, 
 
 "A babe's born to the fold," 
 Then the mind forms a child. 
 
 What the eyes have never seen, 
 The mind cannot shape, 
 
 No matter how keen, 
 Pre-wisdom the tape. 
 
 You might be told, 
 "X was born today/' 
 
 Unknown in mold, 
 
 Then what could you say? 
 
 You would stand and think, 
 You would stand and stare, 
 
 You would oblivion drink, 
 To taste and compare. 
 
 Vacant mind is a game, 
 With spots off the dice, 
 
 You play just the same, 
 
 But the spots are the spice. 
 
 So back to the clock, 
 
 And life living lost, 
 'Tis only a mock, 
 
 Here and there he is tossed. 
 
 If nothing to do, 
 
 Life's dial would be bare, 
 
 If nothing pursue, 
 
 You'll have nothing to compare. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 361 
 
 TO "ALLETS" 
 
 From out the past if I could only blot 
 
 What I've forgiven and what she's forgot ; 
 
 Youth's daring tribute to the siren's song, 
 
 That drew me quickly, yet it held me long; 
 
 Love's invocation that blossomed into harm, 
 
 I exculpate the metropoles, but inculpate the farm. 
 
 Crude was my science, in love-making art, 
 
 My mood amusing, when first I felt the dart, 
 
 In potent frenzy, the virile manhood rose, 
 
 Her breast was welcome, for my head's repose. 
 
 Burning, yearning passion consumed my very life, 
 
 She was friend and mentor, she was all but wife. 
 
 My grief augmented as my passion grew, 
 
 My morals weakened as I "garlands" strew. 
 
 In the path of "Allets," the one I loved the best, 
 
 Whose rosy fingers pinned them on her breast, 
 
 And where they withered, tho moistened by my tears, 
 
 My neglected emblems of forgotten years, 
 
 She scorned my tokens, she threw upon the floor 
 
 The ring I gave her, as from her fingers tore, 
 
 With expostulations she flagrantly abjured, 
 
 Her solemn, sickened promise that time and hate had cured. 
 
 " 'Tis not your person, for that I've long admired, 
 
 That causes me to shun you, 'tis what you have acquired." 
 
 Syncretisms, failure, my overtures subtend, 
 
 Recalcitrant behavior, our tenets would not blend. 
 
 I promised moral obstersion, and built where I was weak, 
 
 Or with her would absquatulate, to a home with strangers 
 
 seek. 
 My words so weak and muffled, since love fast grew to hate, 
 In breaking bands that bound our hearts, made me the 
 
 profligate. 
 Austere and stoic maiden, my heart's life blood you drained, 
 You took the spirit out of life, a living death remained. 
 
362 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Like Tantalus I suffered, in Ixon's wheel was hurled, 
 With nectar near, I thirsted, my brain in madness whirled. 
 I begged to her for mercy, I begged for pain's relief, 
 I ask for sated soothing, she to my wants was deaf. 
 As Chattobran, I told her, and Madam Rachiemeer, 
 To emulate their contract, would save me many a tear. 
 Platonic love their compact, to see and not to touch, 
 To visit her an hour a week, tho little it was much. 
 Not even this would she concede, she unraveled to the 
 
 breeze, 
 The fabric of a youth who loved, a youth by love diseased. 
 And even now if she'd condone, and change thy stubborn 
 
 will, 
 I'd love her as I did of old, for I adore her still. 
 Dead objects sink or drift away upon Love's wailing tide; 
 You can crush a flower in a single grasp, but the aroma 
 
 will abide. 
 In early life I cared for you, in you I found repose, 
 Tho shunned by you in youthful days, I'll love you to the 
 
 close. 
 
 THE CATACOMBS OF ROME 
 
 Turn back to where old history's pages 
 
 Exalt the ones who led — 
 The church back in the night of ages, 
 
 In the "Subway" of the dead. 
 
 Street after street with mural siding, 
 
 Old tombs with bold relief— 
 The fathers' refuge — their place of hiding, 
 
 When they sowed the great belief. 
 
 With candle you may slowly wander 
 
 For miles beneath the sod 
 That served as home and church to ponder 
 
 On ways and means for God. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 363 
 
 And earthly limbo for early churchmen 
 The church Rome would defeat her ; 
 
 'Twas here they sought the soul by "Searchmen" 
 And crucified Saint Peter. 
 
 A thousand tombs of Holy Martyrs 
 
 That contemned corporeal pain, 
 This conventicle of the Christian starters 
 
 That died for Jesus' name. 
 
 Before the Nicean Creed was known, 
 
 Before the Saints had fought, 
 To cull heretic weeds when sown, 
 
 By Arius who wrongly taught. 
 
 Who taught that once there was a day 
 
 When God was not a father, 
 Before Christ's birth he loved to say 
 
 God had no child — no other. 
 
 Before these quarrels, before old Rome, 
 
 Before this city's scene, 
 The Vulgate or a Saint Jerome 
 
 Or the great Saint Augustine. 
 
 Before Anastacia was ever known, 
 
 Before he anathematized, 
 Before "The City of God" was Rome, 
 
 These tombs materialized. 
 
 Bats and rodents reign today 
 
 Amid these holy bones, 
 That sleep in peace 'neath the Appian Way 
 
 In the silent catacombs. 
 
364 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 THE STARS AND STRIPES FOR PEACE 
 
 Once more retone the ancient shell ! 
 
 Ye nine awake, and westward wing 
 From distant classic days to tell 
 
 Us freedom's words to sing. 
 
 Americans of every age, 
 The Nation calls and waits 
 
 Its sons response — to the official page, 
 The President of our States. 
 
 Patriots volunteer your aid, 
 Of Liberty daughter, son; 
 
 Shield the land our fathers made, 
 Do as they have done. 
 
 Our heritage of freedom's soil, 
 In reverence the world has bowed 
 
 To a flag unsullied by thraldom's moil 
 Our soldiers' fitting shroud. 
 
 Our exalted Congress is our Court, 
 
 For Liberty it breathes ; 
 Natural wealth's our mighty fort, 
 Our coat of mails, the seas. 
 
 Our strength is not alone in guns, 
 For in heavenly God we trust, 
 
 Our strongest redoubt plus our son^s, 
 Is in our laws so just. 
 
 Tradition prompts us — "Keep thy fame," 
 And add to what was won 
 
 By Abraham Lincoln — bless his name — 
 And too, George Washington. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 365 
 
 The Argusian eyes upon our flag 
 
 Are watching day and night, 
 The peacock symbol on this rag, 
 
 Will set all wrongs to right. 
 
 We do not go to war to slay, 
 
 We fight that war may cease ; 
 The stars and stripes just clear the way, 
 
 For the dove, sweet bird of peace. 
 
 As one we stand, as one we fall — 
 
 To only on,e we nod, 
 He who governs us, rules all, 
 
 The Just and Living God. 
 
 NOTHING SITS STILL! 
 
 The ocean keeps roaring, 
 The rivers a-pouring, 
 The birds flying, soaring, 
 The worm's crawling, boring, 
 And nations a-warring 
 Instead of adoring. 
 Nothing sits still ! 
 
 Men keep on going, 
 How plain it is showing, 
 That greater we're growing 
 In wisdom and knowing, 
 As time in its flowing, 
 And the wind in its blowing, 
 Helps ships in their towing, 
 
366 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Sailing or rowing; 
 Or planting or hoeing, 
 For seeds in their sowing, 
 Whether raining or snowing, 
 Or the sun in its glowing, 
 Grim reaper keeps mowing, 
 Whether wailing or woeing ; 
 In the grave, God is stowing, 
 A laying and throwing, 
 Yet the cows keep on lowing 
 And the cocks keep on crowing, 
 And the baker's a-doughing, 
 Drive us to trowing, 
 That nothing is slowing, 
 And that nothing sits still ! 
 
 Nature keeps doing, 
 Moving, pursuing, 
 Grinding and hueing, 
 Rotting, renewing, 
 First reddening, then blueing, 
 Breaking, then glueing, 
 Rebreaking then rueing, 
 Then scattering and strewing, 
 Driving and eschewing, 
 The world in its stewing; 
 God does the cueing, 
 The plaintiff the suing 
 The cats keep on mewing, 
 
 In nocturnal wooing, 
 Of crying and cooing, 
 Shows the world isn't Jewing, 
 And that nothing sits still ! 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 367 
 
 NIGHT SHADES 
 
 Soft is the shadow of night 
 
 When lit by the glow of the moon, 
 
 The heart is more keen to its light 
 Than it is to the sun at noon. 
 
 Blessed are the hours of shade, 
 
 For life's not as vain and as real, 
 In this trysting time that was made 
 
 For the secrets of love we reveal. 
 
 Then the earth is a garden of love, 
 
 The blanket of night is a screen 
 That shields when it falls from above 
 
 And darkens yet sweetens the scene. 
 
 Conducive, seductive, and wrought 
 
 For dalliance to have and to hold 
 The maid that we seek and have sought, 
 
 Love the best in the night in the wold. 
 
 One-half of the earth is in night, 
 
 The rest is skirted by day. 
 Tho the earth stands in its own light 
 
 It drives life's sameness away. 
 
 Wherever there are human lives 
 
 When the shade of the nighttime betides, 
 
 Good men go home to their wives, 
 And there until morn each abides. 
 
 In the element of darkness it seems, 
 There is something that mortal inspires 
 
 Not alone does it kindle his dreams, 
 But his love latent passions it fires. 
 
368 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Selene, in the story of old, 
 
 O'er Endymion vigil she kept, 
 
 On Latmus she watched o'er his fold, 
 
 She kissed him through night while he slept. 
 
 Diana would ramble and rove, 
 While Juno the Queen of the sky, 
 
 Would watch in the garth and the grove 
 With her blue vaulted dome for an eye. 
 
 Diana's brother Apollo would rise 
 
 When the lovers apart he had borne, 
 After Daphne he'd go through the skies, 
 For he loved her — the shade of the morn. 
 
 POTENT MORPHEUS 
 
 Relief you can borrow 
 
 For pain and for sorrow, 
 
 But the lender expects to be paid. 
 
 And with legal tender 
 
 You'll pay to this lender 
 
 A debt you've unknowingly made. 
 
 Divine is the feeling, 
 
 As o'er you comes stealing, 
 
 The soft, subtle "hands" of relief. 
 
 With demons you are dealing, 
 
 And to them appealing, 
 
 For more of the food of your griet. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 369 
 
 Relief they will send you, 
 
 For a while they will mend you ; 
 
 But they poison the wound as they sew. 
 
 You employ their assistance, 
 
 Until the will's no resistance, 
 
 And the structure of habit will grow. 
 
 You will climb for the airway 
 
 On this fragile stairway; 
 
 Every step seems to sink 'neath your feet. 
 
 You awake from your being, 
 
 Among dragons, to seeing 
 
 Reality's Plutonic defeat. 
 
 As iEneas with the Sibyl, 
 
 Or the author with Riebel, 
 
 The former as guide led the way ; 
 
 The latter would aid me, 
 
 Instead of evade me, 
 
 If I'd tendered the letter that day. 
 
 For Eurydice went Orpheus, 
 
 Accompanied by Morpheus, 
 
 To search shaded realms as he played, 
 
 Tho his tone it was single, 
 
 In a cave black as Fingal, 
 
 I made the same trip, but I stayed. 
 
 Like the laws of relation, 
 
 And of compensation, 
 
 As Emerson said must prevail, 
 
 Employ drugs to give pleasure, 
 
 Redeals pain's equal measure, 
 
 For where there's a hill there's a dale. 
 
370 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 THE SEQUEL TO YOUR "YES" 
 
 The sequel of those words affect 
 
 In the June of our career, 
 
 Tho forty years — with me reflect, 
 
 I ask again to hear. 
 
 To hear your answer as of old, 
 
 To hear you speak your heart, 
 
 The same lips telling what they told, 
 
 The same sweet words impart. 
 
 As I have said, 'twas the June of life, 
 
 'Twas the month of June as well, 
 
 When I asked you to become my wife, 
 
 And at your feet I fell. 
 
 Of creation, the fairest object you, 
 
 Too fair to touch the sod; 
 
 And thou, the fitting words so true, 
 
 The "noblest work of God." 
 
 The very space you fill, I feel, 
 
 You charge my spirit droll, 
 
 A glorious impulse seems to steal, 
 
 My apathetic soul. 
 
 And the world takes on a brighter hue, 
 
 It seems almost immortal, 
 
 While gazing in those eyes so blue, 
 
 That's been my heaven's portal. 
 
 I raised and placed a tender kiss, 
 On your cheek, as you said, "Harry, 
 I'll answer you — take this and this 
 To seal the 'Yes 1 — 111 marry." 
 And the seal has never yet been broke, 
 With mutual love we each entwine, 
 I told you then I'd be the oak, 
 If you would be the vine. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 371 
 
 And this was forty years ago, 
 Still so fresh within my mind, 
 The older the oak and the ivy grow, 
 The tighter is the bind. 
 The sequel of "Yes" was happy years, 
 To live them o'er again I thirst, 
 Our sorrow has been happy tears, 
 Of halcyon days rehearsed. 
 
 BOOKS. 
 
 Books are the records of actions 
 
 In body as well as in mind, 
 
 They form archives of acts, fables and facts 
 
 They're the replica of all that's behind. 
 
 Books on the past we call history, 
 On current events are today, 
 On the future or prophecy's mystery 
 They reach beyond and away. 
 
 Only a book, yet a book is a friend, 
 
 That makes the darkest hour brighter 
 
 At will you may open and an evening may spend, 
 
 And "talk" and be taught by its writer. 
 
 Books bring the past up today, 
 
 They're the ferry up-river of time, 
 
 Of Carthage or Troy, you may "fight" o'er the fray, 
 
 Or read Ovid in prose or in rhyme. 
 
 Or peruse Plato's "Republic" or "Utopia" by More, 
 Or the kings and their morganatic wives 
 Of Kepler — Copurnicus or Galileo's Lore 
 Or the Caesars in Plutarch's "Great Lives." 
 
372 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 THE GRAVE 
 
 My pillow will be the soil, 
 My blanket the sod, 
 
 That screens from toil and moil, 
 Tho not from God. 
 
 At peace with the mystic dove, 
 I'll leave it all to fate ; 
 
 ,m have you all to love, 
 I'll have no one to hate. 
 
 Graves we have but one, 
 The cosmic steps are seven, 
 
 When life on earth is done, 
 We begin the initial heaven. 
 
 In adversity there's hope, 
 
 In affluence foreboding, 
 Weight is equal in this trope, 
 Until the grave's unloading. 
 
 GRECIAN ISLES 
 
 O, Grecian Isles ! where marble piles 
 Have crumbled back to clods ; 
 
 Still speak of men of ancient styles, 
 The vogue of many gods. 
 
 Cypress where Cythera rose, 
 
 The Uranian Venus, she, 
 Where beauty and dear love repose, 
 
 Since borne from the sea. 
 
 Love's classic use and its abuse, 
 On Delos' shores once sighed, 
 
 Sappho, from "Lover's Leap" to muse, 
 Here lived, loved, sang and died. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 373 
 
 WALK BACKWARD, WALK BACKWARD 
 
 Walk backward, walk backward with face to the ground, 
 
 See what you have lost and others have found. 
 See what you have missed in time's golden sand ; 
 
 If you would have labored, if you would have panned 
 The dirt from the gold and the dross from the dust, 
 
 You'd have the world's riches with happiness plussed. 
 You'd see your false steps that to blighten redound 
 
 If you would walk backward with face to the ground. 
 
 Walk backward, walk backward with face to the skies, 
 
 Look at God's features, look into His eyes, 
 His eyes shine as brightly, His face is as mild, 
 
 As when you were youthful,, both wicked and wild. 
 If you had sought refuge and steered for the lee, 
 
 As the ships trust His guidance far out on the sea, 
 You'd finish life's circle without sorrow or sighs, 
 
 Now ashamed you walk backward and blush at the skies. 
 
 Walk backward, walk backward and gaze at each side; 
 
 Tho you blush at youth's folly, 'tis the livery of pride. 
 Tis the growth of our judgment and lustration of tears, 
 
 That grows with our body and develops with years ; 
 That gives us our wisdom to backwardly seek 
 
 To see our "faux pas" and where we are weak. 
 We can see the old casket of wounds time has healed 
 
 That we made at our leisure, in the past they are sealed, 
 We cannot erase them, tho we reflect o'er the ground, 
 
 Of the past walking backward, looking around. 
 
 Walk backward, walk backward o'er life's weary trail, 
 Where Paul first succeeded, where Peter did fail ; 
 
 View the remnants of pleasure that's faded away, 
 View the remnant of labor that's there till today 
 
 Smell the nard of the primrose on the path once you trod, 
 View the trail seldom taken to travel with God, 
 
374 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 And see the old landmarks you'd love to erase 
 
 And take from time ; knowledge and virtue replace 
 
 In your tour walking backward 'twill your folly recall, 
 
 For 'twas virtue that made Peter and grace that made 
 Paul. 
 
 Walk backward, walk backward through your gauntlet of 
 years, 
 
 All's blank to the eye, all's deaf to the ears ; 
 The past passes farther, the future's your last, 
 
 So profit by your evil and be taught by the past, 
 For we cannot do over what time has undone, 
 
 "If to live life twice hither, you're to live well the one" — 
 In your thoughts walking backward, reflect and attain, 
 
 The moral from the journey and it won't be in vain. 
 
 PARTING 
 
 Fate decrees we are to live apart 
 
 And disunite the legal wedded tie 
 
 That binds awhile the flesh, tho not the heart — 
 
 Of you and I. 
 
 More potent bands than simple words have bound 
 Our souls to one that cruel death exiled 
 Away from us, beneath the cold, damp ground — 
 Our child. 
 
 Possessions with ease we may divide, 
 
 Her clothes and little shoes within our powers 
 
 To take and part, we two, tho she has died — 
 
 She still is ours. 
 
 You take her little shoe and I a shoe, 
 
 You take her little glove and I a glove, 
 
 The rest will not divide, as I and you — 
 
 Her love. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 375* 
 
 HOME WITHOUT MOTHER 
 
 Proem 
 
 Death indefeasible 
 Brings sorrow ineffable, 
 With the past immutable, 
 And the future inevitable 
 Makes the present miserable. 
 
 Poem 
 
 A room without a fixture, 
 
 A frame without a picture, 
 
 And a home without a Bible we can stand ; 
 
 But a house without a brother 
 
 Wife, father or a mother, 
 
 Is a place that only God can understand. 
 
 A school without a scholar, 
 
 A man without a dollar, 
 
 Or a king without a country, isn't strange; 
 
 But a girl without a lover 
 
 And particularly a mother, 
 
 Leaves a mark upon her soul that never'll change. 
 
 A bell without a clapper, 
 
 A war without a sapper, 
 
 Or intelligence conveyed without a wire; 
 
 In life's traffic this we smother 
 
 But the girl without a mother 
 
 Helps extinguish the vestal virgin fire. 
 
 Without a mentor cares will double — 
 
 Pandora's box so full of trouble. 
 
 O Jove, why let such sorrow go astray ! 
 
376 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Better Niobe who lost her seven 
 
 Than lose the mother who is heaven 
 
 To the (laughter needing mother all the way. 
 
 Some succeed by wrongly doing, 
 
 Others fail by right pursuing — 
 
 God's artful way of testing mortal worth ; 
 
 But the girl without a mother 
 
 That rises still above the other 
 
 Is a living jewel to adorn the earth. 
 
 LIFE'S TOMORROW 
 
 There is a goal of equal measure, 
 For laboring men or men of leisure; 
 Life's duration but a day, 
 Death will always cross its way, 
 Time's the only treasure. 
 
 That monster, death, you cannot please her, 
 
 On aged feeds, infants tease her. 
 
 Even sorrow cannot stay; 
 
 It and glory pass away. 
 
 Cite Napoleon, Rome and Caesar. 
 
 Death will deaden mirth and sorrow, 
 Time and death each lend and borrow. 
 Time first paints his victims gray, 
 Death transmutes them back to clay, 
 The goal of life's tomorrow. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE $77 
 
 THE LOST CHORD FOUND 
 
 A sound fell onto my ear drums, 
 
 A sound so foreign in tone, 
 'Twas restful like music, soul welcomes 
 
 Still it wasn't just music alone. 
 
 I perceived it, tho not with the senses, 
 It sounded like it came from behind, 
 
 Still it did not seem of the tenses 
 Except of the infinite kind. 
 
 The Arcanum of space seemed to open 
 
 A deafening quietude reigned, 
 In this great bourne, I sat moping, 
 
 With all of my faculties chained. 
 
 I was surrounded by "nothing" the spirit, 
 
 My soul mingled deep in its sway, 
 For nothing it must be to be near it 
 
 If substance, it's the opposite way. 
 
 I felt like an egg made of syrup, 
 
 With harmony that nourished within ; 
 
 Purity rode by in the stirrup, 
 
 With my past from its palace of sin. 
 
 There were myriads of colors around me, 
 
 I saw, tho not with my eyes, 
 A mantle of purple that gowned me, 
 
 As the planets are gowned by the skies. 
 
 There was rolling, gushing and grinding, 
 
 Congealed music melting to freeze, 
 It was the Lost Chord in unwinding, 
 
 Life's reel with death's wicked keys. 
 
378 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 NOT FROM THE SAND OR THE SEA 
 
 In atoms God found us, 
 With His essence He bound us 
 
 In form, as He did with the world. 
 But the earth when He planned it, 
 And before He had manned it, 
 
 He cooled it in space as it whirled. 
 
 Then shortly He clayed us 
 For he grew us, or made us 
 
 From the life-giving principle — He 
 Is the soul and we wear it 
 That from Him we inherit 
 
 And not from the sand or the sea. 
 
 He surely adored us, 
 For when He restored us 
 
 From Deluge, where none could appeal, 
 Tho the Serpent nearly graved us 
 Root of Jessy has saved us 
 
 By bruising its head with the heal. 
 
 And in the beginning 
 Where original sinning 
 
 First sprang from a snake to beguile, 
 Eve in the garden 
 Tho in Christ we find pardon, 
 
 Forever after bondage awhile. 
 
 Man wasn't human, 
 
 For he looked upon woman 
 
 With eyes that were blind as a mole, 
 Till chivalrous bravery, 
 They were subjects of slavery, 
 
 And animals devoid of a soul. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 379 
 
 WITH GOD 
 When I'm hailed by the hand that is handless, 
 
 When I'm paged by the love-sanctioning nod, 
 To come to the land that is landless, 
 
 To come and to be with my God. 
 
 There I'll be in a day that is nightless 
 With harmony of souls for my breath, 
 
 I will see with the eyes that are sightless, 
 I will live where there is no death. 
 
 Where the wicked and sinners are sinless, 
 Where the sot, the saint and the sage, 
 
 Alike have found kin for the kinless, 
 And deaths resting balm for the aged. 
 
 And when in the place that is placeless, 
 
 Where errors of men are remissed, 
 There I'll stand face to face with the faceless, 
 
 With friends that for years I have missed. 
 
 They will lead me o'er ground that is groundless, 
 And show me the bourne that's to last, 
 
 Where time is unknown, space is boundless — 
 We will drink the oblivion of past. 
 
 Until then I will know self is selfless, 
 For the part that once labored and trod, 
 
 For pelf that can't go with the pelfless, 
 Only soul's legal tender with God. 
 
 I will leave my friends that were friendless 
 
 To go where sorrow is o'er, 
 To part for a meeting that's endless, 
 
 Where pain and care are no more. 
 
 Then I'll welcome the sleep that is sleepless 
 Bury sins with my flesh, 'neath the sod, 
 
 Then why weep for the eyes that are weepless, 
 When I am with God? 
 
380 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 PRINCE AND PEASANT 
 
 When prince and peasant meet 
 To wed — the two extremes 
 
 Will social laws defeat, 
 
 Besides heavenly laws it seems. 
 
 Tho not equal above the sod, 
 At death and on that day 
 
 They return to their father God, 
 As one in dust will lay. 
 
 Before the immortal bath, 
 
 Before piercing the inverted bowl, 
 
 Since crossing each other's path 
 To claim each other's soul. 
 
 They'll ask that while they live 
 This life of stormy weather, 
 
 To each that God will give 
 That they may live together. 
 
 They will know it was His will 
 If He gives to each this present ; 
 
 She'll know God loves her still, 
 Tho a daughter of a peasant. 
 
 Then soothing, sweet, serene, 
 She'll sing through all the day, 
 
 From peasant unto queen 
 She'll love her life away. 
 
 Now God may seal her pleasure, 
 For wedded life's endowed 
 
 With children, the greatest treasure, 
 Unless of them too proud. 
 
 If death doesn't step between, 
 As Niobe and her seven, 
 
 Your life will be a dream, 
 
 And earth will be your heaven. 
 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 381 
 
 TO ANNA 
 
 Pure as the tears of angels — the dew, 
 Fair as their feathers — the snow, 
 Clear and lucid as the air, 
 Brilliant as the starlight glow. 
 
 Sweet as honey in the white clover bud, 
 Daunting as Aurora and the Hours, 
 Vivacious as the springs that bubble to the flood, 
 Handsome as the blooming flowers. 
 
 Clear and lucid in mind as the air , 
 Chaste as the budding rose, 
 Crowned with tresses like Bernice's hair 
 Your character in your features shows. 
 
 You're proud, but only as Jesus was proud, 
 Your love is as deep as the sea, 
 You're noble and charitable, besides you're endowed, 
 With grace and humility. 
 
 You're the beacon that's guided and guided me 
 
 right, 
 Your voice rekindled love's fires, 
 You're my all, dear heart, my life and my light, 
 My song, your absence inspires. 
 
 On the horizon of sorrow when all are forlorn, 
 As Iris with her golden lighting rays, 
 You appear as a rainbow after the storm, 
 You're the cause of my halcyon days. 
 
 You're good, yes good, but weak is the word, 
 
 To tell of the goodn,ess in thee, 
 
 Who saved a lost soul and brought hopes long 
 
 deferred, 
 To a mortal no other than me. 
 
382 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 THE GRAPE VINE 
 
 The vine, its tendrils entwine the mighty oak, 
 
 Weak and fragile still it binds, 
 A forest giant by weeping, creeping stroke, 
 
 Nor does it nourish with its "wines." 
 
 The essence of its fruit instils 
 
 In man a sweet desire, a craving want, 
 Its graceful growth in time obtunds it wills 
 
 To trammel the human flesh and soul to haunt. 
 
 Tho homely, dumpish Bacchus in the flesh, 
 The mortal symbol of the blood of grape, 
 
 He weaves recondite spirit's choking mesh, 
 
 To rendezvous more deadly than the "Plutonian Rape." 
 
 Caparisoned in leaf and blade, to do 
 
 Her annual tour to decorate the world, 
 Proserpine from Pluto's realm she drew, 
 
 The vine that crowns the earth when it unfurls. 
 
 Tho vine-crowned boughs with "osire" pendants hung, 
 A welcome scape when Orpheus and Apollo play, 
 
 And Pan of "Ancient of Days" through Syrinx had sung. 
 Made mystic song and wine in classic lay. 
 
 And of it drink and still they were athirst 
 
 For more, nor need the lips indulge. 
 Yet drink and think, the last is as the first, 
 
 A toxic ecstasy with feast abulge. 
 
 Ariadne's recourse after love's defeat 
 
 Was in the shadow of the foreign vine, 
 
 Or Bacchus, of whom she chanced to meet, 
 
 And appeased unrequited love with sparkling wine. 
 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 383 
 
 I'D LOVE TO LIVE THAT HOUR O'ER 
 
 By the one who set my heart on fire, 
 Ye nine awake my theme inspire; 
 Of her an erstwhile charming bell 
 Both good and bad of her you tell, 
 Tell first the oneness of her class, 
 Her brow, like mercury on a glass 
 Reflects the beauty of her grace. 
 You see her mind upon her face, 
 Her eyes a fiery, liquid coal 
 The windows of her loving soul. 
 
 In her every posture beauty shows, 
 
 Within her something does repose, 
 
 That is by her sweet body framed 
 
 Unknown, unknowable and unnamed. 
 
 Nor is it figure, curves or flesh, 
 
 For its fabric seems of finer mesh, 
 
 Against her will it casts its spell, 
 
 As it did to me and did so well ; 
 
 For its sweet-pained poison through me stole, 
 
 And tuned my heart-strings as its tole. 
 
 And how this throbbing organ played, 
 As on her breast my head has laid, 
 And gazed within her eyes to think 
 And from those lips love's nectar drink — 
 A drink that does not quench the thirst, 
 Tho sipped I from this cup the first. 
 If I could live this hour o'er 
 And it alone and npthing more, 
 I'd give my life for this sweet day 
 And in it live my life away. 
 
384 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 THE ALPINE EDELWEISS 
 
 Tradition speaks, and ballads sing the past, 
 
 When knights of old were chosen by this test, 
 
 Before their ladies edelweiss would cast, 
 
 For her to tender to whom she loved the best. 
 
 Amid the Alps, where lovers oft have trod, 
 
 And left the world behind with all its cares, 
 
 When all alone, except with nature's God, 
 
 They wandered heavenward on rocks of natural stairs. 
 
 Where saxtile trysts, where rock-built castles stands, 
 
 With diadems of melting snow to run, 
 In bridal veils embellished by godly hands, 
 
 Iris and Apollo's art — the rainbow and the sun. 
 
 And here there is a test — a lover's proof, 
 
 Where words declare that love shall never cease, 
 
 Tho life's imperiled — man's to go aloof, 
 
 On highest Matterhorn and pluck the edelweiss. 
 
 A POLISHED FRAUD 
 
 Nature in its course will abolish 
 
 The external beauty it grew ; 
 It will decay or wither its polish 
 
 As Black Clouds soon cover the blue. 
 
 There's no coloring under the peeling 
 
 Of an apple when it is pared ; 
 Rough plaster lies back of the ceiling, 
 
 Shining scalps are exposed when dehaired. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 385 
 
 'Neath the bark of a tree are but slivers, 
 
 A diamond is carbon or sand, 
 Molecules make the great rivers 
 
 While granules of dust make the land. 
 
 'Neath the beautiful skin of a woman, 
 
 If burnt, blistered or bruised, 
 With all the paint, powder or perfuming 
 
 It will redden and swell if contused. 
 
 The eye is an organ for seeing, 
 
 'Tis prettier than colored glass, 
 But open its internal being 
 
 And it's nothing but a colorless mass. 
 
 Man has been cut out of granite, 
 
 But the lungs, heart, stomach and bowel 
 
 Are but stone, for how could they "man it," 
 With mallet with chisel or trowel? 
 
 The stage with its settings entrancing, 
 With its characters, heroes and fiends, 
 
 With its music and all of its dancing 
 
 There's roughness just back of the scenes. 
 
 The moon with its lustre and shining 
 
 Lights heaven's inverted bowl ; 
 Tho it gives night a golden lining 
 
 It's only a chunk of coal. 
 
 And so with all earth in its making, 
 
 Tho with brush and in verse we will laud, 
 
 But when out of dreams into waking, 
 You'll see it's a polished fraud. 
 
386 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 RAVEN AND DOVE 
 
 Good and Evil, Light and Dark 
 The Raven and the Dove, 
 
 They both served Noah in the Ark, 
 But only one served Love. 
 
 Hermes, a God of Ancient Greece, 
 The "Life" in Aaron's rod, 
 
 Must surrender to the dove of peace, 
 As messenger to God. 
 
 For as a dove the Father won, 
 Time opportune he seized, 
 
 To say to John and Christ, His son, 
 "In Him I am well pleased." 
 
 TO THE "TIMONEUMIAN" 
 
 To live amid society, 
 
 And still to live away, 
 Is like the man of piety 
 
 Committing heresy. 
 
 For men weren't made to live alone, 
 
 And think alone of self; 
 With watery blood and heart of stone- 
 
 Their object only pelf. 
 
 The civilized must play their part 
 In the one-act drama, Life ! 
 
 If children do not cheer his heart 
 He will not cheer his wife. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 387 
 
 Such may live as Timon did 
 
 In Grecian days of old 
 Whose tomb and bones in the ocean slid, 
 
 So the story's told. 
 
 The very God that gave him breath 
 
 Would shun if he could do, 
 But in this way and after death, 
 
 They sequestered him anew. 
 
 Perhaps the cells of saints are blessed 
 
 And the desert anchorite, 
 But he who seeks Timoneum rest 
 
 Shadows his own light. 
 
 Who little thinks of others, 
 
 From heaven may little hope; 
 Heaven fathers, and earth mothers 
 
 Even the misanthrope. 
 
 Every action against his laws 
 
 By its own court records 
 A charge, a verdict and sentence draws 
 
 Self-executing swords. 
 
 If we receive, then why not give 
 
 The greatest virtue dual? 
 No matter how the others live — • 
 
 Thus live the Golden Rule. 
 
388 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 MY IDEAL 
 
 My ideal in reality I know I'm still to find, 
 
 In northern land and austral, erratic as the wind; 
 
 In the Occident and Orient I have travelled far — 
 
 Tho I have failed to find you, still I know you are. 
 
 Incarnate and awaiting my long-desired embrace, 
 
 Personified perfection — in mind, form, soul and face, 
 
 Cupid's bow the pattern to her sweet and nectared lips, 
 
 A Phryne in type and model, in shoulders, thighs and hips. 
 
 In her objective beauty, like Aphrodite was blest. 
 
 For poverty of words imagine I cannot tell the rest. 
 
 With eyes that are vivacious and hair of golden hue, 
 
 She blushes at her loveliness, the sign she's chaste and true ; 
 
 With heart of noble kindness, with liberal and loving mind, 
 
 Invested with virtue's firmness, an anomaly you seldom find. 
 
 For she who's physically charming must guard where'er she 
 
 list, 
 For overtures are forthcoming, temptations to resist. 
 With efflorescing sweetness and unaffectedly demure, 
 With congested soul of honor, with humility's grace so pure. 
 Nor can I omit her mammary grace, where in thoughts my 
 
 head oft rests, 
 For all the gems Pandora brought, the sweetest were her 
 
 breasts. 
 With eyes closed tightly, still I see in my restful dreams, 
 The object of my love ideal, too good for truth it seems. 
 The incubus of my sleeping dreams, O why should I awake, 
 And mantle nocturnal gladness that only sleep can make. 
 Its immaculate passion sated, exalted, pure and just, 
 'Tis dreams of physical commerce, in ethereal lust. 
 This is my only recourse, to have, to hold and feel, 
 The ineffable "grand passion" in her my love ideal. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 389 
 
 A VISIT TO THE VILLAGE GRAVEYARD 
 
 The day was lit in a golden glow. 
 
 I strolled across the wold. 
 I called upon my friends laid low, 
 
 My friends of old. 
 
 I spoke to each as on I walked, 
 
 Their good in life my heart reread, 
 
 Not with lips, tho still I talked 
 With friends long dead. 
 
 The epigraph I'd bend to read : 
 
 "John Doe was born," it gave the years, 
 
 And now my heart began to bleed, 
 Nor could I read the rest for tears. 
 
 Nor did I need the eyes to see, 
 
 To read of him below, 
 Mind's eye now read the rest to me, 
 
 Of my old friend "John Doe." 
 
 This communion in the afternoon 
 
 Of life to me was grand. 
 I conversed with friends, with one a boon, 
 
 I all but shook her hand. 
 
 I rested on the grave of she, 
 
 For whose sweet words I've pined, 
 
 For she ne'er spoke in life to me, 
 Unless the words were kind. 
 
 I'd finished now the silent path, 
 
 And wandered to my home, 
 To wait to tread the road He hath, 
 
 For each to walk alone. 
 
390 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 DOZY JOSEY 
 
 My dearest Josey, why be so dozy 
 
 Whene'er I ask you to become my wife? 
 
 Your cheeks are rosy, 
 Your words are poesy, 
 
 With you how cozy 
 To go through life! 
 
 But dozy Josey, 
 
 Don't think me nosey, 
 Because I shake and wake you with a start. 
 
 When I propose a time, you're always dozy 
 And the only sound I hear's your beating heart. 
 
 Your pretending lazy, 
 
 Will drive me crazy 
 Just by your acting, tacting as you do. 
 
 If you don't want me, 
 Tell me, don't taunt me, 
 
 And through life, haunt me, O, cruel you! 
 
 Dozy Josey, don't be so "frozy" ! 
 
 Wake up and give my heart a short reprieve. 
 My love incumbers just by your slumbers, 
 
 That's caused me both to doubt and to believe 
 In you, sweet Josey v though you are dozy. 
 
 Though dreaming, sleeping, walking shall I 
 fear, 
 Since love I've fed you, I'll take and wed you, 
 
 As my little rosy, dozy, Josey dear. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 391 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN SPRING 
 
 It drops and it drips, it warbles and slips, 
 
 As it flows on its way to the free ; 
 It runs and it spills, o'er rocks and o'er rills ; 
 
 It laughs on its way to the sea. 
 
 At first it's a spray, but it grows on its way, 
 As it bounds on its course to the lee ; 
 
 It's the source or the giver that floods the great river. 
 And then on its way to the sea. 
 
 It bubbles and sops on mountains — their tops, 
 
 Only rivulets, tho soon they will be 
 A stream on its way, tho once bubbles and spray, 
 
 To nourish and water the sea. 
 
 Men may I say tho little today, 
 
 As drippings have swollen the sea. 
 Tho mites if you gather, this life you can weather 
 
 For atoms make oceans and we. 
 
 You can gather much knowledge outside of college, 
 As springs gather springs as they flee. 
 
 'Tis the gauntlet of ages that has given us sages, 
 As rivers in time make the sea. 
 
 From the night of the ages in turbulent rages, 
 
 The ocean's been grinding to be. 
 In its ambient spreading to cover earth's bedding, 
 
 But its poundings have leveled the sea. 
 
 By the waves in their winding, their grinding and 
 grinding, 
 That have fought and labored to free. 
 But they have made little sandhills of sand-vamping 
 sandles, 
 That are worn as shoes by the sea. 
 
392 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 So cease from thy shirking, keep working, keep 
 working, 
 Like the sands that were made and to be. 
 The curbs for the water that trammeled and wrought 
 her, 
 Own shores that keep guard o'er the sea. 
 
 FAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY 
 
 Hope and Faith are twin sisters; 
 
 They always go hand in hand. 
 In grief they're human assisters, 
 
 And behind their redoubt we stand. 
 
 Hope tho deferred never'll perish ; 
 
 It's employed more as we grow. 
 Tho we use it light in days garish, 
 
 In age its value we know. 
 
 Tho deferred, it still has its being, 
 It's the very life of our breath ; 
 
 There is no limit to its pleading, 
 It guides the soul beyond death. 
 
 Without hope, faith is but useless, 
 Without faith, hope is the same. 
 
 'Tis sawing with a saw that is toothless, 
 Against life's knots and the grain. 
 
 Having faith is trusting in heaven — 
 'Twas a rule in the old synod. 
 
 By faith you were saved, it was given 
 With hope which is borrowed from God. 
 
 From two of the sisters styled Graces, 
 The one called Charity has sprung. 
 
 Myth has endowed them with faces, 
 And of them we've painted and sung. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 393 
 
 NATURE'S GREEN AND BLUE 
 
 God chose the shade 
 
 Of all the seven 
 
 In the woof of every leaf and blade, 
 
 On earth's great stage, 
 
 And congruous scene 
 
 This side of heaven 
 
 That's pleased the taste of every age 
 
 This tint was given — 
 
 The color green ; 
 
 By sweet Pamona, Orchard Queen. 
 
 But orchards fade 
 
 When Junos played 
 
 About and with her winter brings 
 
 This cruel nurse to foliage wean 
 
 By weeping branches overlaid, 
 
 With snow, the down of angels' wings 
 
 To only melt and show between 
 
 The shade immortal evergreen. 
 
 He still another color chose 
 
 From out the seven, 
 
 Nor do I mean that of the rose, 
 
 Or of the blade or of the tree, 
 
 But of the background of the true — 
 
 The heaven; 
 
 Or the heavenly blue 
 
 That tints its likeness in the dew, 
 
 The color of the far and free; 
 
 And when He'd painted well the two 
 
 He finished with the sea. 
 
 And he did it all, ai\d all for who? 
 
 For you and yours, myself and mine, 
 
 And still belongs to only one, 
 
 For it is infinite divine. 
 
394 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 'Tis part of God and of His Son 
 Who owns the great inverted bowl, 
 Where mansions are for me and you ; 
 And where all loving dreams come true, 
 Where spirit drinks ambrosial wine, 
 Distilled by sun's rays on the brine 
 That we will taste ; the final roll, 
 When called it will the flesh renew, 
 Beneath the green, above the blue, 
 Transmute to sand the body's goal, 
 Transcend, O spirit with the soul. 
 
 OHIO 
 
 Ohio, Ohio ! the Buckeye State, 
 The parent of sons and daughters great ! 
 Aliens from all parts of the earth 
 Seek home and sanctuary at its heartn. 
 
 Ohio, Ohio ! there is but one ! 
 Your seal is labor and the setting sun, 
 So emblematic of peace and rest, 
 The Elysian Fields of the Middle West. 
 
 Ohio ! the Avalon of the states ! 
 That all men love and no one hates. 
 In speaking Caesar, you think of Rome, 
 In speaking Ohio, you think of home. 
 
 Ohio, Ohio! Oh, my Ohio! 
 Whose hills and valleys echo I O — O ! 
 Pabulum and life I will supply O ! t 
 For I'm your mother, Ohio — Ohio ! 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 395 
 
 AS YOU 
 
 (Imitations of Christ.) 
 
 Lead, that I may follow, 
 Lead as you have led ; 
 Over hills and hollow 
 May I tread. 
 
 Teach as you in teaching 
 In knowing help to know; 
 The light of your beseeching 
 Let me show. 
 
 And give as you in giving 
 The living while I live ; 
 To live and help in living 
 May I give. 
 
 And sow as you have sown, 
 In heeding may I heed ; 
 Blood flow as yours has flown 
 May I bleed. 
 
 At the end when all is ending 
 And lying dead I lie, 
 A martyr, your name defending 
 May I die ! 
 
 "OMNIA BONA BONIS" 
 
 A willing heart is a killing heart, 
 
 For Jesus did and died, 
 Souls He cured and then endured, 
 
 Altruistic suicide. 
 
396 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 A grinning face is a winning face, 
 For it makes those present glad, 
 
 'Twill age erase, and youth replace, 
 It antidotes the sad. 
 
 Oft shedding tears mean wedding tears, 
 These voiceless words aflow, 
 
 They're the usual proof in flowing truth 
 Of affection here below. 
 
 The heart that feels is the heart that steals 
 
 A kiss from the maiden fair; 
 We don't beseech when in our reach 
 
 It's for the hard-to-win we care. 
 
 The friend that's dear is the friend that's near 
 When trials and troubles come 
 
 Your wants he'll hear, he'll give and cheer, 
 While the rest are "deaf and dumb." 
 
 THE "REAL" IS THE UNSEEN AND 
 THE UNSEEABLE. 
 
 Nothing is real that's immutable, 
 
 Yet the world styles the immutable the real. 
 The life of all substance is ephemeral. 
 
 The Infinite we can't see nor feel. 
 
 It's the unseen, the unknown, and the unknowable 
 That's the father of bourne and of wight. 
 
 The embryo's cause is unshowable, 
 
 For the Eternal is kept from our sight. 
 
 To be "in tune with the Infinite," 
 
 Transmuted we must be. 
 For a moment from your borne esprite 
 
 To prenatal memory. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 397 
 
 BE TRUE 
 
 If it's true what you have told me, 
 
 And time alone can tell, 
 The world will fail to hold me, 
 
 For in love with you I've "fell." 
 
 If I had the power to mould thee, 
 
 To my will I'd have you nod, 
 I'd make you true and then behold thee, 
 
 As "Truth, the noblest work of God." 
 
 If you find you cannot love me, 
 Be true and say you can't be mine ; 
 
 I'll forgive, sure as heaven's above me, 
 For "to err is human ; to forgive, divine." 
 
 Then in my arms if I can't fold thee, 
 
 And another wins what I pursue, 
 I'll have no reason then to scold thee, 
 
 For you did as Truth would do. 
 
 Or if false what you have told me, 
 For falsehoods cannot ride the gale, 
 
 Your soul and honor you've cheaply sold me, 
 For "Truth is mighty and must prevail." 
 
 SOMEWHERE 
 
 Somewhere the day is always dawning, 
 It's always placid somewhere on the sea, 
 
 Somewhere on the earth it's always morning, 
 That somewhere — if I could only be. 
 
 Somewhere the moon is always shining, 
 
 Somewhere there're always growing showers ; 
 
 Somewhere its love and no repining, 
 
 Somewhere there're always tender flowers. 
 
398 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 Somewhere the sun is always parting, 
 Somewhere it's always passing by ; 
 
 Somewhere the day is always starting, 
 Somewhere God waits for you and I. 
 
 Somewhere we'll see the Holy Spirit 
 
 Not on the land or seas we number seven ; 
 
 Somewhere we'll know, see, feel and hear it, 
 Somewhere some day we'll know of heaven. 
 
 Somewhere my friends — oh, yes another, 
 Somewhere I'll see her face and wavy hair, 
 
 Somewhere I'll see you, dearest mother, 
 Somewhere, somewhere! 
 
 THE FIRST CHRISTIAN HYMN WAS COM- 
 POSED BY HADRIAN, EMPEROR OF 
 ROME, A PAGAN 
 
 "Vital spark of heavenly flame" 
 
 That healed the blind, the halt, the lame ; 
 
 The flesh alone the cross had killed, 
 
 And ancient prophecy fulfilled. 
 
 In Him to rule without sword or rod, 
 
 Our Christ, the son of the living God. 
 
 "Oh, Vital Spark of heavenly flame !" 
 This Christian Hymn of Pagan fame, 
 This famous line Pope has used, 
 And I with others have abused, 
 But the author of this initial Hymn 
 Was the Roman Emperor Hadrian. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 399 
 
 THE SWEETEST THING IN ALL THE WORLD 
 
 Eyes of blue, hair nature curled, 
 
 Is the sweetest thing in all the world. 
 
 With classic features and Grecian nose, 
 
 And cheeks refulgent like the rose, 
 
 Combined a figure steeped in grace, 
 
 A carnate goddess of the race, 
 
 This ideal image all men see, 
 
 And what all women wish to be, 
 
 For sweeter will a poet sing, 
 
 If wound up by this power spring ; 
 
 And more supreme is man's command, 
 
 Upon the sea or on the land ; 
 
 Whether scepter, sword or baton wield, 
 
 From throne or band or on the field, 
 
 Whether farmer on his patch of ground, 
 
 Or soldiers brave the world around, 
 
 In palace or in squalid den, 
 
 The stronger with the stronger men. 
 
 She fair tho faint, still full of force, 
 
 Inspires to marriage and divorce ; 
 
 It drives to murder and to steal. 
 
 It caused the wound in Achilles' heel. 
 
 It propels, attracts, two different ways, 
 
 Still happy thoughts and dreamy days. 
 
 For man is of the form divine, 
 
 With song and love with her and wine, 
 
 With eyes of blue, hair nature curled, 
 
 Is the sweetest thing in all the world. 
 
400 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 THE WORLD'S MONEY MAD 
 
 Money, men die for it, 
 Children they cry for it, 
 Jews often sigh for it, 
 All people lie for it, 
 Souls you can buy for it, 
 Bird-men will fly for it, 
 Or mountains sail high for it; 
 And even vote dry for it; 
 Lawyers will try for it, 
 Beggars apply for it, 
 Farmers grow rye for it, 
 And for hogs build a sty for it ; 
 We all have an eye for it, 
 And in danger go nye for it ; 
 As sailors will tie for it, 
 Some will deny for it, 
 Others defy for it ; 
 Cooks they will fry for it, 
 And bake bread and pie for it; 
 On providence some rely for it. 
 Soldiers will spy for it, 
 None are too shy for it — 
 Neither you nor I for it, 
 But what is the why for it? 
 That answer, "O ! my for it, 
 Til lift up, 111 pry for it, 
 And pray to the sky for it," 
 But this is the reply for it — 
 The world's money mad ! 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 401 
 
 HENRY FORD 
 
 Of men that's made their millions, 
 
 There are many I can cite, 
 
 Some acquired to spend, and some to horde, 
 
 There is one that will have billions, 
 
 Still he made his money right. 
 
 But it isn't John D. R. ; it's Henry Ford. 
 
 Of all the men that's wealthy, 
 
 And made their money square, 
 
 There's one that found a realm unexplored, 
 
 He found to give while taking, 
 
 With labor play ye fair, 
 
 And emulate the ways of Henry Ford. 
 
 His ways are democratic, 
 
 In peace he does delight, 
 
 And in his "Argosy" he thousands poured, 
 
 His motto, Peace and Liberty, and to that end 
 
 will fight. 
 Believe me, yours truly, Henry Ford. 
 
 FRAGMENT 
 
 The will of our people is the will of our God ; 
 
 We are God's people, to Him only we nod, 
 
 But not unto others, only to God. 
 
 Old glory so sacred, if on it you trod, 
 
 If you sully its colors or menace our sod, 
 
 We'll lock up the dove and we'll take down the rod 
 
 And crush the offender, so we will, help us God. 
 
402 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 WAR'S THREE PHASES 
 
 Hark ! I hear the shrieking cries of suffering ones. 
 Hark ! I hear the booming detonating guns. 
 I hear it all from Europe's warring shores. 
 Cannon mouths repeating, war! war! war! 
 Cannon, musket, sword and canvas tent, 
 Ships and towns are ruined, treasures spent. 
 Battered, bent, broken, buried beneath both bog and wave; 
 Prince, peasant, captain, colonel, fill a soldier's grave. 
 But listen ! 'Tis o'er what I heard, I fail to hear 
 All is quiet. The frightened need not fear. 
 Sorrow-saddened, suffering souls of soldiers cease 
 For warring powders, powers proclaimed pleasing, placid 
 peace. 
 
 NATURE WED 
 
 Marcescent foliage mantled the mistletoe, 
 
 O'er stile, thru croft, we list. 
 The child by this will be mulier I know, 
 
 Beneath both dead and green we kissed. 
 
 Nostalgia won't come to such who leave 
 
 Their parents' home unwed. 
 In nature's symbol when the two believe 
 
 Speaks the word instead. 
 
 Within this garth December green there grew 
 
 For her, for love and me. 
 Tradition's license of man's in lieu, 
 
 Signaled future salubrity. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 403 
 
 MY ROSE 
 
 As the compass points I've looked 
 North, south, east, west — 
 Above in airships, below in submarines — 
 For the ideal of my dreams, 
 I've kneeled to pray- 
 That I could meet her on life's weary way, 
 Heart screams. 
 
 Fve riches, money, lands and wordly pelf ; 
 I've jewels, gems of matchless radiant hue; 
 I have flower gardens grand, 
 Fve had girls, but understand — 
 I feel poor in soul without your dear sweet self — 
 Just you. 
 
 Fve acquired both Latin, Hebrew and classic Greek, 
 Fve written books of poems, history, prose, 
 I have traveled wide and far, 
 But come home and here you are — 
 The object I have traveled far to seek — 
 My Rose. 
 
 DEATH 
 
 Death dissolves the flesh to sod, 
 
 To earth from where deriven ; 
 The soul that is a part of God, 
 
 Returns to heaven. 
 
 Death, the shadow of the light, 
 
 That shields them on and to their goal, 
 
 Dark pillar of the mortal wight, 
 For flesh to flesh, for soul to soul. 
 
4Q4 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 MOTHER'S PICTURE 
 
 The face wrthin the oaken frame, 
 That hangs upon the wall 
 
 Reflects the cast — a maternal name, 
 The sweetest of them all. 
 
 I've surveyed the Louvre and Doge's art, 
 The Luxemberg's great hall, 
 
 Fve viewed each face with eye and heart, 
 But mother's beats them all. 
 
 Murillo's "Chef d' ouvre" I've viewed, 
 As well, Dore's "St. Paul," 
 
 Both holy pictures and the nude, 
 Mother's is worth them all. 
 
 And Raphael, even he I trow, 
 
 And to Van Dyke recall, 
 With David and Garlondujo, 
 
 I've hung her over all. 
 
 The chiaroscuro of art, 
 
 That connoisseurs may call, 
 
 The shade and light that paint impart, 
 But hers is heart and all. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 405 
 
 PHILOMELA'S GRAVE AND THE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Over the green, 
 
 Under the blue, 
 Evening the moon, 
 
 Morning the dew. 
 Tongueless when human — 
 
 Never to sing, 
 Until changed from a woman 
 
 Into voice of the spring. 
 That with pinions' assistance 
 
 Soft feathers unfurled, 
 In the realm of the distance 
 
 Over the world — 
 Is the nightingale singing 
 
 O'er Philomela's grave, 
 Taking and bringing 
 
 The message we crave, 
 Of love the bird heralds; 
 
 It never lets die, 
 It sings on its journey 
 
 From earth to the sky, 
 As it mourns o'er its flesh 
 
 The sands of the knoll — 
 Flesh once a mortal, 
 
 Now a bird with a soul. 
 
406 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 WRECKED ON THE SEA OF AFFECTION 
 
 I've been wrecked on the sea of affection, 
 The ship was the brigantine "Love," 
 
 Now marooned on the isle of dejection, 
 
 Where the raven takes the place of the dove. 
 
 On this bleak "Desert Isle" Fm to loiter, 
 
 And let life's days melt away, 
 For I'll never appeal for mirth's quarter, 
 
 As I did on that heart-breaking day. 
 
 My "food" is dead words of my soidisant friend, 
 I'm nourished by those cidevant lips. 
 
 My dreams ! O, God ! why should they end, 
 While purloining those nectarious sips? 
 
 You ruined the world without changing a leaf ; 
 
 There's a world in every one's mind, 
 It's mutation of love's glory into life's grief, 
 
 Woman, help ! Can't you see? Are you blind? 
 
 Help, help, I repeat, I'm sinking for the last. 
 
 You're the cause, though still you're the cure, 
 Answer my flagrant appeals of the past ; 
 
 If I do not endear, please endure. 
 
 With an unuttered word, you're lashing a life 
 To a "rock" with a bind that is ropeless, 
 
 You're the vulture that's gnawing, that should be 
 my wife, 
 Prometheus was saved, but I'm hopeless. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 407 
 
 CUPID OR EROS, THE GOD OF LOVE 
 
 Son of Venus, small tho mighty god, 
 
 Blind in actions, still he's missed but few 
 
 Darts of desire ; he fires his sanctioning nod, 
 
 That wounds both gods and men with aim so true 
 
 For poverty of words the truth to tell, 
 
 When Cupid looked on Psyche's form at rest, 
 
 Now even he with her in love had fell, 
 
 Confused when she awoke and wound his breast. 
 Tho mingling with divine, he loved a mortal best. 
 
 His ally Zephyr carried Psyche far, 
 
 She knew not where, still she later knew ; 
 
 It was a god's retreat — a palaced star, 
 That she was carried to. 
 
 Fluted columns support a root ot gold, 
 
 Paintings depict the chase and every beast ; 
 
 From any part could look across the wold, 
 And there let passion feast. 
 
 Zeus gave Psyche ambrosial wine to drink, 
 It sprouted wings — mortal became immortal, 
 
 Cupid and Psyche were joined with a knotted link, 
 In lover's booth beyond heaven's portal. 
 
 And from these nuptials, tho curious Psyche now 
 Must ope the box to view the Pandora treasure 
 
 Elements of pulchritude escaped her vow, 
 And she gave birth to Pleasure. 
 
4 o8 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 CREATION 
 
 Of atoms made He the world, 
 His essence the cementing lime 
 
 That cooled in space as it whirled, 
 This life of the palm and the x pine. 
 
 All, all, the many are one 
 
 Holy Spirit the life in the sod, 
 
 The negative to light of the sun, 
 Bright orb the soul of our God. 
 
 When dead man's soul fleets away, 
 With bourne, with life and with time, 
 
 If not for heaven's bright ray, 
 
 Earth's soul would pass into Thine. 
 
 The world would crumble away, 
 If not for the omnipotent "Eye" 
 
 That lights many worlds with its ray, 
 And holds them all in the sky. 
 
 Time's unknown to the sun 
 
 Still the sun makes the world's time; 
 
 Dark day there would be only one, 
 If not for the sunshine. 
 
 Air, breath of God and the light, 
 Is the staple food with the hours, 
 
 That sustain not alone every wight 
 But nourish the sweetest flowers. 
 
 Heaven the sphere of regeneration, 
 For all is pure from there deriven, 
 
 Restored, corrupt disintegration 
 Takes place in heaven. 
 
 Dust our body, only dust will cleanseth 
 Soul's not held in funeral urn, 
 
 It must transcend to heaven to rinseth 
 And by this route to earth return. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 409 
 
 A GOLDEN DAY 
 
 Past pleasures of a single day 
 
 Death alone can sever, 
 Heaven can take my breath away, 
 
 But not that day — Ah ! never. 
 
 We spent the day along the sea, 
 
 Our hearts were like a feather, 
 The first day and the last to be — 
 
 Together. 
 
 The sun had set in a golden glow 
 
 To gild this dying day of days, 
 We'd met to love, but still must go 
 
 In different ways. 
 
 This was a thousand days in one, 
 
 All mirth by it I measure, 
 Tho it should pass with the dying sun, 
 
 This day of all I treasure. 
 
 The dust of time can fade the past, 
 
 But golden hours will weather, 
 Tho death has broke the links it cast — 
 
 Together. 
 
 In dreams by day my mind may think, 
 
 And each golden day endeavor, 
 From out this bitter cup to drink, 
 
 The sweetest ever. 
 
410 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 IT'S ALL OVER WITH NOW. 
 
 It's all over with now, 
 
 The exit for time is the past ; 
 
 Still we shouldn't look back from the plow, 
 But encounter the rest as the last. 
 
 Sorrow is polished by years, 
 
 Looking back we are forced to allow 
 
 That happiness grows out of old tears 
 That are all over with now. 
 
 Events of the past we can feel 
 Their mirth that time did endow 
 
 With happiness more sweet than the real 
 Because they are over with now. 
 
 Erstwhile morals will show 
 Their replica cast on the brow 
 
 That grew from their embryo 
 That's all over with now. 
 
 In the past they cast Him away, 
 Still today we reverently bow 
 
 At the altar made on that day 
 
 Of his pain that is over with now. 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 411 
 
 SOMETHING IS LACKING 
 
 Something is lacking, 
 
 Lacking in life. 
 My heart, it is whacking, 
 
 Whacking for wife. 
 Knocking and knocking 
 
 Under my breast, 
 To escape by unlocking 
 
 The cell or the chest, 
 It asks for another, 
 
 A companion to make; 
 Or to death it will smother, 
 
 Or from jail it will break. 
 
 For something is lacking, 
 
 Something seems gone ; 
 Nor would it keep whacking 
 
 Unless something was wrong. 
 My strength it is sapping ; 
 
 My hair will turn gray 
 From the tapping and tapping 
 
 Thru night and thru day. 
 For a wife tho unknown, 
 
 For its image can feel, 
 And want the unshown 
 
 And love the ideal. 
 
412 MYTHOLOGY 
 
 WOMAN'S FACE 
 
 In memory's gallery hangs a picture ; 
 
 Through ideal fancy it's a fixture. 
 Nor can it be erased, 
 
 Or in my mind another placed. 
 Painted with a hearty mixture, 
 
 That cannot be defaced. 
 
 'Twas of a woman who thought her duty, 
 Was pulchritude, maintain her beauty, 
 
 And win by queenly grace. 
 
 And in her wake and all around her, 
 
 And by chance where'er you found her, 
 She wounded with that weapon "face." 
 
POETRY AND PROSE 413 
 
 FINIS 
 
 After you've read 
 
 What I have said, 
 
 And weighed it well in your mind, 
 
 Don't abuse or accuse, 
 
 Just try to excuse 
 
 Any mistake you may find. 
 
 I read and I write, 
 
 I study at night 
 
 Of wisdom as deep as the sea, 
 
 But the older I grow, 
 
 The less seem to know, 
 
 Except learn how little is "me/' 
 
 Of mortals below 
 
 None are to know 
 
 All that there is to be known, 
 
 For oft the best schools 
 
 Ape the wisdom of fools 
 
 Who the way have many times shown. 
 
 The man to abhor 
 
 Is the one with some lore, 
 
 Who thinks there's no more to gain. 
 
 He's a dangerous party; 
 
 Don't allow such a smarty 
 
 In your company long to remain. 
 
 But a student and scholar 
 You will never hear holler, 
 So others his lore may infer. 
 If for wisdom did seek 
 Yet still claims he's weak, 
 He's a student and philosopher. 
 
4H MYTHOLOGY 
 
 In your last look, 
 
 As you close up this book, 
 
 If from it even little you gain, 
 
 In theme or in thought, 
 
 If some good has taught, 
 
 I'll feel 'twasn't written in vain.