nor to try my strength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards the
entrance. I come to seek my wife, whose opening years the poisonous viper's fang
has brought to an untimely end. Love has led me here, Love, a god all powerful with
us who dwell on the earth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. I implore
you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and uncreated things, unite
again the thread of Eurydice's life. We all are destined to you, and sooner or later
must pass to your domain. She too, when she shall have filled her term of life, will
rightly be yours. But till then grant her to me, I beseech you. If you deny me, I cannot
return alone; you shall triumph in the death of us both."
As he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. Tantalus, in spite of
his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts for water, Ixion's wheel stood still, the
vulture ceased to tear the giant's liver, the daughters of Danaus rested from their task
of drawing water in a sieve, and Sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. Then for the first
time, it is said, the cheeks of the Furies were wet with tears. Proserpine could not
resist, and Pluto himself gave way. Eurydice was called. She came from among the
new- arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. Orpheus was permitted to take
her away with him on one condition, that he should not turn round to look at her till they
should have reached the upper air. Under this condition they proceeded on their way,
he leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in total silence, till they
had nearly reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when Orpheus, in a
moment of forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance
behind him, when instantly she was borne away. Stretching out their arms to embrace
one another they grasped only the air! Dying now a second time she yet cannot
reproach her husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her!
"Farewell," she said, "a last farewell," - and was hurried away, so fast that the sound
hardly reached his ears.
Orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to return and try
once more for her release; but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused passage.
Seven days he lingered about the brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of
cruelty the powers of Erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and mountains,
melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from their stations. He held himself
aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection of his sad mischance.
The Thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances.
They bore with him as long as they could; but finding him insensible, one day, excited
by the rites of Bacchus, one of them exclaimed, "See yonder our despiser!" and threw
at him her javelin. The weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre, fell
harmless at his feet. So did also the stones that they threw at him. But the women
raised a scream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles reached
him and soon were stained with his blood. The maniacs tore him limb from limb, and
threw his head and his lyre into the river Hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring
sad music, to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony. The Muses gathered
up the fragments of his body and buried them at Libethra, where the nightingale is said
to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of Greece. His lyre was
placed by Jupiter among the stars. His shade passed a second time to Tartarus,
where he sought out his Eurydice and embraced her, with eager arms. They roam the
happy fields together now, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and Orpheus gazes
as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance.
The story of Orpheus has furnished Pope with an illustration of the power of
music, for his Ode for St. Cecilia's Day. The following stanza relates the conclusion of
the story: -
"But soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes;
Again she falls, again she dies, she dies!
How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?
No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.
Now under hanging mountains,
Beside the falls of fountains,
Or where Hebrus wanders,
Rolling in meanders,
All alone,
He makes his moan,
And calls her ghost,
Forever, ever, ever lost!
Now with furies surrounded,
Despairing, confounded,
He trembles, he glows,
Amidst Rhodope's snows.
See, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies;
Hark! Haemus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries.
Ah, see, he dies!
Yet even in death Eurydice he sung,
Eurydice still trembled on his tongue:
Eurydice the woods
Eurydice the floods
Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung."
The superior melody of the nightingale's song over the grave of Orpheus is
alluded to by Southey in his Thalaba: -
"Then on his ear what sounds
Of harmony arose!
Far music and the distance-mellowed song
From bowers of merriment;
The waterfall remote;
The murmuring of the leafy groves;
The single nightingale
Perched in the rosier by, so richly toned,
That never from that most melodious bird
Singing a love song to his brooding mate,
Did Thracian shepherd by the grave
Of Orpheus hear a sweeter melody,
Though there the spirit of the sepulchre
All his own power infuse, to swell
The incense that he loves."
Aristaeus, The Bee-Keeper.
Man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals for his own advantage.
Hence sprang the art of keeping bees. Honey must first have been known as a wild
product, the bees building their structures in hollow trees or holes in the rocks, or any
similar cavity that chance offered. Thus occasionally the carcass of a dead animal
would be occupied by the bees for that purpose. It was no doubt from some such
incident that the superstition arose that the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh
of the animal; and Virgil, in the following story, shows how this supposed fact may be
turned to account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost by disease or accident.
Aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of the water-
nymph Cyrene. His bees had perished, and he resorted for aid to his mother. He stood
at the river side and thus addressed her: "O mother, the pride of my life is taken from
me! I have lost my precious bees. My care and skill have availed me nothing, and you
my mother have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune." His mother heard these
complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the river with her attendant nymphs
around her. They were engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, while one
told stories to amuse the rest. The sad voice of Aristaeus interrupting their occupation,
one of them put her head above the water and seeing him, returned and gave
information to his mother, who ordered th
at he should be brought into her presence.
The river at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood curled like a
mountain on either side. He descended to the region where the fountains of the great
rivers lie; he saw the enormous receptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the
roar, while he surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to water the face of the
earth. Arriving at his mother's apartment he was hospitably received by Cyrene and her
nymphs, who spread their table with the richest dainties. They first poured out libations
to Neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after that Cyrene thus
addressed him: "There is an old prophet named Proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a
favorite of Neptune whose herd of sea-calves he pastures. We nymphs hold him in
great respect, for he is a learned sage and knows all things, past, present, and to come.
He can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality among your bees, and how you may
remedy it. But he will not do it voluntarily, however you may entreat him. You must
compel him by force. If you seize him and chain him, he will answer your questions in
order to get released, for he cannot by all his arts get away if you hold fast the chains. I
will carry you to his cave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. Then you
may easily secure him. But when he finds himself captured, his resort is to a power he
possesses of changing himself into various forms. He will become a wild boar or a fierce
tiger, a scaly dragon or lion with yellow name. Or he will make a noise like the crackling
of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you to let go the chain, when he will make
his escape. But you have only to keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his
arts unavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey your commands." So saying she
sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and immediately an
unusual vigor filled his frame and courage his heart, while perfume breathed all around
him.
The nymph led her son to the prophet's cave and concealed him among the
recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her place behind the clouds. When noon
came and the hour when men and herds retreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet
slumber, Proteus issued from the water, followed by his herd of sea-calves which spread
themselves along the shore. He sat on the rock and counted his herd; then stretched
himself on the floor of the cave and went to sleep. Aristaeus hardly allowed him to get
fairly asleep before he fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. Proteus waking and
finding himself captured immediately resorted to his arts, becoming first a fire, then a
flood, then a horrible wild beast, in rapid succession. But finding all would not do, he at
last resumed his own form and addressed the youth in angry accents: "Who are you,
bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what do you want with me?" Aristaeus
replied, "Proteus, you know already, for it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive
you. And do you also cease your efforts to elude me. I am led hither by divine
assistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune and how to remedy it." At
these words the prophet fixing on him his gray eyes, with a piercing look, thus spoke:
"You receive the merited reward of your deeds, by which Eurydice met her death, for in
flying from you she trod upon a serpent, of whose bite she died. To avenge her death,
the nymphs her companions have sent this destruction to your bees. You have to
appease their anger, and thus it must be done: Select four bulls, of perfect form and
size, and four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to the nymphs, and sacrifice the
animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy grove. To Orpheus and Eurydice you shall
pay such funeral honors as may allay their resentment. Returning after nine days you
will examine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall." Aristaeus faithfully
obeyed these directions. He sacrificed the cattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he
offered funeral honors to the shades of Orpheus and Eurydice; then returning on the
ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate! a swarm of
bees had taken possession of one of the carcasses and were pursuing their labors there
as in a hive.
In the Task, Cowper alludes to the story of Aristaeus, when speaking of the ice-
palace built by the Empress Anne of Russia. He has been describing the fantastic forms
which ice assumes in connection with waterfalls, &c.: -
"Less worthy of applause though more admired
Because a novelty, the work of man,
Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ,
Thy most magnificent and mighty freak,
The wonder of the north. No forest fell
When thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores
T'enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods
And make thy marble of the glassy wave.
In such a palace Aristaeus found
Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale
Of his lost bees to her maternal ear."
Milton also appears to have had Cyrene and her domestic scene in his mind
when he describes to us Sabrina, the nymph of the river Severn, in the Guardian-spirit's
Song in Comus: -
"Sabrina fair!
Listen where thou art sitting
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave
In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
Listen for dear honor's sake,
Goddess of the silver lake!
Listen and save."
The following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians, some of whom
were hardly inferior to Orpheus himself: -
Amphion.
Amphion was the son of Jupiter and Antiope, queen of Thebes. With his twin
brother Zethus he was exposed at birth on Mount Cithaeron, where they grew up among
the shepherds, not knowing their parentage. Mercury gave Amphion a lyre and taught
him to play upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and tending the flocks.
Meanwhile Antiope, their mother, who had been treated with great cruelty by Lycus, the
usurping king of Thebes, and by Dirce, his wife, found means to inform her children of
their rights and to summon them to her assistance. With a band of their fellow-
herdsmen they attacked and slew Lycus, and tying Dirce by the hair of her head to a
bull, let him drag her till she was dead. ^* Amphion having become king of Thebes
fortified the city with a wall. It is said that when he played on his lyre the stones moved
of their own accord and took their places in the wall.
[Footnote *: The punishment of Dirce is the subject of a celebrated group of
statuary now in the Musaeum at Naples.]
See Tennyson's poem of Amphion for an amusing use made of this story.
Linus.
Linus was the instructor of Hercules in music, but having one day reproved his
pupil rather harshly, he roused the anger of Hercules, who struck him with his lyre and
killed him.
Thamyris.
An ancient Thracian bard, who in his presumption challenged the Muses to a trial
of skill, and being overcome in the contest was deprived by them of his sight. Milton
alludes to h
im with other blind bards, when speaking of his own blindness, P. L. Book III.
35.
Marsyas.
Minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight of all the celestial
auditors; but the mischievous urchin Cupid having dared to laugh at the queer face
which the goddess made while playing, Minerva threw the instrument indignantly away,
and it fell down to earth, and was found by Marsyas. He blew upon it, and drew from it
such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to challenge Apollo himself to a musical
contest. The god of course triumphed, and punished Marsyas by flaying him alive.
Melampus.
Melampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers. Before his house
there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's nest. The old serpents were killed by the
servants, but Melampus took care of the young ones and fed them carefully. One day
when he was asleep under the oak, the serpents licked his ears with their tongues. On
awaking he was astonished to find that he now understood the language of birds and
creeping things. This knowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became a
renowned soothsayer. At one time his enemies took him captive and kept him strictly
imprisoned. Melampus in the silence of the night heard the woodworms in the timbers
talking together, and found out by what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten
through and the roof would soon fall in. He told his captors and demanded to be let out,
warning them also. They took his warning, and thus escaped destruction, and rewarded
Melampus and held him in high honor.
Musaeus.
A semi-mythological personage who was represented by one tradition to be the
son of Orpheus. He is said to have written sacred poems and oracles. Milton couples
his name with that of Orpheus in his Il Penseroso: -
"But O, said virgin, that thy power
Might raise Musaeus from his bower,
Age of Fable or Beauties of Mythology Page 24