Books: Classic Myths
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Retold by Mary Catherine Judd >> Classic Myths
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Apollo saw the little fellow and, to tease him, asked:
"What do you carry arrows for, saucy boy? It is for great gods like
myself to do that. My arrow shot the terrible python, the serpent of
darkness. What can _you_ do?"
"Apollo may hit serpents, but I will hit Apollo," said Cupid, and taking
out two tiny arrows, one of gold and one of lead, he touched their
points together and then shot the golden one straight into Apollo.
Quick as a flash of Apollo's sun-crown, Cupid shot the other, the leaden
one, into a river cloud he saw floating by. In it he knew Daphne, the
daughter of the river, was hidden. The leaden arrow hit her true, but
she drifted away on the swift breeze.
Apollo, the sun-god, can see through everything except fog and mist, but
as Daphne fled he caught one glimpse of her face, and Cupid laughed to
see how his arrow did its work. His arrows never kill; sometimes,
indeed, they make life happier. Apollo now loved Daphne more than
anything else on earth. Daphne was more afraid of him than of anything
else in the sky.
On flew Daphne, hoping her misty cloud would hide her till she could
reach her river home. On flew Apollo, begging her to stop for fear his
arrows might hurt her. His great arrows of sunlight must do their work
even if his friends should perish by them.
As they neared the river he saw her face again. She sank on the river
bank. She was faint and he would comfort her but she cried to her
father, the river, "O father, help!" The earth opened, and before
Apollo could reach her he saw her waving hair change into glistening
leaves. Her arms became branches. Her skin changed to dainty bark, and
her face to a tree-top whose pink flowers show, even yet, the beauty of
Daphne's cheek. Apollo reached out and gathered the leaves and made
them into a crown.
[Illustration: DAPHNE. Changing into a laurel tree. From an old painting]
"This tree shall be called laurel, and it shall be mine," he said. "I
cannot grow old and the leaves of this tree shall be always green.
Daphne has won the race against Apollo, the wreath of these leaves shall
be her gift and mine to the bravest in every race. Kings and captains
shall be proud to wear it."
Apollo hid his face for days behind dark clouds. Heavy rains fell. The
immortal gods cannot weep, but these great drops seemed like tears for
lost Daphne.
Even saucy Cupid mourned, and he did not dare go out till the storms
were over, for fear Apollo's grief would spoil his wings.
In cold northern lands you can find Daphne's tree in greenhouses among
the roses and lilies. And if you ask for Daphne, the gardener will point
her out, for he calls the tree by her name.
THE LESSON OF THE LEAVES
_Roman_
In a cave by the seashore lived an old, old woman. This very old woman
was also very wise.
She remembered everything that had ever happened and she knew almost
everything that was going to happen in her country.
She lived in Italy and was called the Sibyl.
One day a man named Aeneas came to her cave to question her. She was
very kind to him. She even took him far down into the center of the
earth, Pluto's kingdom, to see those whom Pluto had carried away.
When they came back, Aeneas said he would build a temple to her and have
gifts brought to her. She had so much power and was so wise he felt sure
she must be more than mortal. But she would not let Aeneas build the
temple. Instead she told him her story. It was this:
"Apollo saw me when I was young, and told me to ask him for any gift I
would have. We were standing on the seashore. I stooped down and filled
my hand with the white sand at our feet.
"'Give me as many birthdays as there are grains of sand in my hand, O
Apollo!' I said.
"'It is granted,' said Apollo. But, in my foolishness, I forgot to ask
for everlasting youth.
"When one hundred grains of sand had slipped away from the glass in
which I placed them all, I was old. My youth was gone.
"Seven hundred grains have slipped through now. I have counted the rest.
I shall yet see three hundred springs and three hundred harvests; then
the Sibyl will be no more. My body has shriveled. Soon I shall be only a
warning voice to the children of men, but I shall live till the grains
are gone from that glade. While my voice lasts men will respect my
sayings. As long as I live, I will strive to help the human race."
Aeneas went with her into the cave. The leaves were thick on the floor.
The Sibyl picked them up and wrote with an eagle's quill on each.
She let him read as many as he wished. He found some of them were
warnings to his friends. Some were for people he had never seen. The
Sibyl placed them in rows on the ledges of rock inside the cavern.
A fierce wind blew into the cave and carried the written leaves away.
"Save them, O Sibyl!" cried Aeneas.
[Illustration: A SIBYL. From a Roman statue.]
"My work is to write, Aeneas. I am no man's slave. If he wishes his leaf,
he must come for it before the wind takes it away. There are thousands
of leaves not written upon yet. But no man may have a second leaf. He
must be here on time."
"One leaf, one life!" said Aeneas. "I see your meaning, O Sibyl, and go
about my work. My ship shall sail to-day. Each day shall bring me nearer
my journey's end, and when I reach my home the leaves on my forest trees
shall teach me your lesson over again. I will rise early each day and be
the first in all things. Even the winds shall not be quicker than I am
in the work it is my duty to do. Farewell."
Here is another story which is told of the Sibyl. It shows that she
could write on something beside leaves.
She appeared one day at the king's palace gate with a heavy burden on
her back. The keeper let her in.
With a guard on either side the Sibyl was shown into the presence
of the king.
The burden proved to be nine large books closely written. She offered
them for sale at an enormous price. The king refused to pay it. The
Sibyl only smiled and threw three of the books into the open fire. The
king had wished to own those three, for he knew that future events were
written in them.
"I have now six books and the price is the same as for the nine. Does
the king want them?" The king hesitated. While he was thinking what to
do, the little old woman threw three more into the fire.
"I have now three books and the price is the same as for the nine. Does
the king want them?" And the king said, "Yes," without a minute's
waiting, and took the books.
The little old woman vanished. Her thousand years were nearly gone, but
her voice was still heard when people visited her cave.
The king searched the three books and found that all things concerning
his city, Rome, were foretold in them for hundreds of years. Perhaps
many wars and troubles would have been saved if he had bought all the
books instead of only three.
It is usually best to decide a matter quickly when one knows that
nothing can be gained by waiting.
THE LEGEND OF THE SEED
_Greek_
Once upon a time the earth was so very young and the people upon it so
pure and good that they could hear the morning stars as they sang
together. It was during the Golden Age, as it is now called, that one
morning in the early springtime a little group of girls were playing
together and gathering wild flowers.
One of these girls was named Proserpina. She was the merriest of them
all, though her dress was of the plainest brown. Her little feet danced
everywhere and her little fingers seemed to touch the flowers as lightly
as the butterfly that flitted by her.
Carelessly she danced close to a great opening in the ground. Looking
down she saw a yellow daffodil growing on the edge. Leaning over to pick
it, she felt herself caught by her dress, and the next minute found
herself sailing far down into the earth through the great crevice. She
was in a chariot drawn by black horses, which were driven by a driver
who seemed to be both deaf and dumb. He neither answered when she
pleaded with him to take her back, nor even seemed to hear her.
The girls who were left gathering wild flowers had missed
Proserpina almost the moment she was out of sight, but no one knew
what had happened.
"Come back! come back!" the girls called, but no answer came up from the
great opening or from the forest near them. Only Echo marked their cry
of "Proserpina, oh, Proserpina, come back!" "She has vanished," the
girls whispered. "I always felt as though she had wings beneath that
plain brown dress she wore," said one.
"But who can tell Queen Ceres, her mother?" they asked one another.
No one could go alone, so they all went together to Queen Ceres and told
her what had happened.
[Illustration: CERES. From a painting in Pompeii.]
The good queen wept bitterly. That day she laid aside her regal robes
and began her search for Proserpina. Up and down the world went this
royal mother seeking for her lost daughter. At last she came to the land
of King Celeus. When Ceres reached his land she was so ragged and poor
that she was glad to earn money by taking care of the king's baby son.
As nurse to the little prince, Queen Ceres was almost comforted.
Because she was the goddess of the wheat and the fruits, the crops upon
the land of King Celeus, while she was there, were very wonderful. In
the land near Mount Aetna, where Proserpina had been lost, no rain fell
and no corn nor apples grew.
Juno sent Iris down to earth to beg of Ceres to give rain to the
suffering people of her own home. Ceres said no rain should fall till
Proserpina came back to her mother. One day as Ceres was weeping by a
fountain her tears fell into the springing water, and, as they did so,
she heard a silvery voice:
"Why do you grieve, Queen Ceres?" said the water sprite or nymph.
"Proserpina, my beautiful daughter, is gone from me," said Ceres. "I
have sought everywhere on the earth for her. I cannot find my daughter."
"Listen to me," said the voice from the fountain. "I have seen her. She
is not on the earth; she is in the earth. She is in the palace of King
Pluto, who rules below. I saw her as I ran with a river through Pluto's
kingdom. She longs to come back to you."
Queen Ceres was like a stone for a time after she heard the story told
by the murmuring waters of the fountain.
Proserpina alive and longing for her! It did not seem true, but she
would know soon. Taking back the little prince to his mother, she hid
herself in a forest, called for her chariot, and, when it came, drove
straight to the top of Mount Olympus, where Jupiter sat on his
shining throne.
She begged of him to command his brother Pluto to return her
daughter to her.
"It is granted on one condition; that is, that Proserpina has never
tasted food nor drink since she has been beneath the earth."
Mercury, the wing-footed messenger, and Flora, the goddess of Spring,
sought the center of the earth to bring back Proserpina to Ceres.
Pluto loved his stolen prize as much as Queen Ceres did; and, being
unhappy because she refused to eat, succeeded at last in making her
taste one of the beautiful pomegranates that are both food and drink.
Even while she was tasting it Mercury and Flora stood at Pluto's gate
with the command to return her to Ceres. What was to be done? Mercury,
quick-witted as well as quick-footed, decided that if she dwelt with
Ceres for half the year and with Pluto the other half, Jupiter's
commands would be satisfied. This proved to be as Jupiter wished.
So, arrayed in shining green, Proserpina swiftly set out with Flora and
Mercury to find Queen Ceres. Ceres saw her the minute her bright head
appeared above the brown earth and knew her through her disguise. You
remember when Proserpina was taken she wore a plain brown suit.
They lived together, the mother and daughter, through the bright spring
days and the warm summer weather. When autumn came Proserpina donned her
brown suit again and Pluto claimed her. There, in his underground realm,
she reigns all the cold winter months. She is happy now because Queen
Ceres is happy. The mother knows that when spring breathes over the
earth again Proserpina will come back to her.
Can you guess who Proserpina is? You have seen her a thousand times.
Yes, and when you see her next you will say how strange that the Greeks
could tell such a story of only a little brown seed.
THE GIRL WHO WAS CHANGED INTO A SUNFLOWER
_Greek_
Years ago there was a beautiful girl who lived near a large garden. This
girl's name was Clytie. She had wonderful golden hair and big brown
eyes, and she was tall and slender.
Clytie stood in this large garden one day, watching her pet doves as
they flew about in the sky, when she caught a glimpse of the sun chariot
of Apollo. She even had a glimpse of Apollo himself, as he guided his
wonderful horses along their course, which was the circle of the
heavens. There were many fleecy clouds in the sky, and one had veiled
the burning sunlight from the eyes of Clytie, or she would never have
been able to see the sight, which only the eyes of Jupiter's eagle may
endure and not become blind.
After this the foolish girl went every day into the garden and, staring
up into the sky, tried to see Apollo once more. Every day for more than
thirty days she went into the garden. Her mother often told her that she
would make Apollo angry, for he shines brightly so as to hide himself
from people on the earth.
"Clytie! Clytie!" her mother would call, "come in and take your sewing."
[Illustration: APOLLO. From a statue in Rome.]
But Clytie never would obey. Sometimes she would answer:
"Oh, mother, let me stay. He was so beautiful. I have no heart
for work."
Apollo saw the foolish girl day after day and he became out of
patience with her.
"Mortal maidens must obey their mothers," he said, and a burning
sun-arrow fell on Clytie's bright head.
Such a strange change came upon Clytie from that moment. Her brown
eyes grew larger. Her golden hair stood straight out around them, and
her pretty clothing changed into great heart-shaped leaves which clung
to a stiff stalk. Her feet grew firmly into the ground, and the ten
little toes changed into ten strong roots that went creeping
everywhere for water.
When Clytie's mother called again no answer came and she found, in going
into the garden, a flower in place of her child.
And now Clytie always stares at the sun all day long. In the morning her
face is toward the east, and at night it is toward the west.
Did you ever think that the sunflower was once a lovely girl?
WHY THE NARCISSUS GROWS BY THE WATER
_Greek_
Down in the heart of the woods there was a clear spring with water like
silver. No shepherds ever brought their flocks there to drink, no lions
nor other wild beasts came in the night time. No leaves nor branches
fell into it, but the green grass grew around it all the year, and the
rocks kept it from the sun.
One day a boy hunter found it, and, being thirsty, he stooped down to
drink. As he bent he saw, for the first time in his life, his own fair
face, and did not know who it was.
He thought it must be a water fairy, and he put his lips to the water,
but as soon as their touch disturbed the surface, away went the
shadow-face from out of his sight.
"Nothing has escaped me yet, and here I shall stay till this
curly-haired creature comes out of the water," he said. "See its shining
eyes and smiling mouth!"
He forgot his hunt, he forgot everything but to watch for this water
sprite. When the moon and stars came out, there it was just the same
as in the sunshine, and so he lingered from day to night and from
night to day.
He saw the face in the water grow thinner day by day, but never thought
of himself. At last he was too weak to watch any longer. His face was as
white as the whitest lily, and his yellow hair fell over his hollow
cheeks. With a sigh his breath floated away, his head dropped on the
green grass, and there was no longer any face in the water.
[Illustration: NARCISSUS. From a painting from Pompeii.]
The fairies came out of the woods and would have covered him with
earth, but, looking for him, they found nothing but a lovely flower,
gazing with bended head into the silver spring, just as the boy
hunter had done.
The fairies told the story to a little child, and she told it to her
father and mother. When they found this spring in the heart of the woods
they called the flower growing beside it Narcissus, after the boy hunter
who had perished watching his own face in the silver water.
THE LEGEND OF THE ANEMONE
_Greek_
Just see the basketful of anemones we got down in the glen! They were as
thick there as they could be. We picked and picked and it didn't seem to
make a bit of difference, there were so many left. Aren't they lovely?"
"They are dainty little flowers, boys. Where did you say you
found them?"
"On the low land in the glen by the brook. There were great trees on
both sides of the glen, and it was so still the little brook and the
waterfall sounded as loud as a big river. How we wished you were there!"
"What else did you find besides the windflowers, or anemones, boys?"
"Here's a little moss and a few blood-root flowers, and Will Johnson
carried home a big bouquet of wild bleeding-hearts."
"That makes me think, Charlie, of a myth there is about the first
anemones."
"A myth? What is that, mother? Oh, I know, John," said Charlie; "it is
one of those stories that people used to believe just as we used to
believe in Santa Claus. He's a myth, you know, and now you please keep
still and maybe mother has time to tell us about the first anemones. I
like myths."
"This is a hunting story, so I know you will like it, boys.
"But just think of hunting with bow and arrows and spears! Would you
like that?"
"Yes, yes!" shouted both the boys.
"Well, years ago in the Golden Age when the world was young there lived
a Greek hunter whose name was Adonis. He was tall and straight and
handsome. His friends thought it a great pity that he should spend his
time in the woods, with only his dogs for company. Away he would go day
after day with his arrows at his back and his spear at his side. His
dogs were fierce and would attack any creature. His horse was as brave
as he. His friends begged him to wait till he was older and stronger
before he went into the deep forests, but he never waited. He had killed
bears, wolves, and lions. Why should he wait?
[Illustration: ADONIS AND APHRODITE (Aphrodite is the Greek name
of Venus.)]
"But the wild hog is fiercer than the tiger. One spring morning while
hunting in the forest, Adonis wounded two. Leaving his dogs to worry one
while he killed the other, he got off his horse, and, running, threw his
spear at the hog. Its thick hide was tough and the spear fell to the
ground. He drew out an arrow, but before he could place it in the bow,
the ugly beast had caught him with its horrid tusks.
"He tore away and, bleeding at every step, bounded down a hillside
toward a brook to bathe his wounds. But the savage beast reached it as
soon as he. A flock of white swans that had been drinking from the
brook, rose on their strong wings and, flying straight to their
mistress, Venus, told the story.
"Back they brought her in her silver chariot, sailing so steadily
that, from the silver cup of nectar she brought with her, not a drop
was spilled.
"'Adonis! Adonis!' cried Venus.
"There was nothing but drops of blood on the grass to tell her where he
had been. It was all that was left of the handsome hunter.
"Venus sprinkled some of the nectar on these drops and, in an hour, tiny
flower buds showed their heads. Then she drove sadly home. Soft winds
blew the tiny buds open, and at night blew them away. So people called
them wind-flowers, or anemones. And they believe that the pink and
purple which colored them came from the heart of Adonis."
"But why didn't tiger-lilies or some other big and showy flowers come,
not these pretty little things?"
"I don't know, John; go and ask Venus."
THE MISTLETOE
_Norse_
Baldur, the youngest brother of Thor, was called The Beautiful. His
thoughts were so kind and his ways so pleasant that all who lived in
Asgard, the home of the Norse gods, loved him.
Baldur's days were the happiest of all in Asgard, but when he slept his
dreams were so strange that his nights were often unhappy.
He feared danger. So Frigga, his mother, who was the wife of Woden, went
to the sea and made it promise that no water should drown Baldur.
She went to the stones and made them promise not to harm her son.
Everything promised to let no evil come upon Baldur the Beautiful.
Iron and all the other metals, rocks, and trees all promised. Birds,
beasts, and creeping things all agreed to help and never to hurt
Frigga's youngest son.
Woden, his father, went to ask a wise old woman what his son's dreams
meant. She was dead, and Woden had to go to the center of the universe
to find her. She gave him what help she could, and Woden and Frigga felt
that now nothing could hurt their child.
The other gods that lived in Asgard knew that Baldur was safe from
all harm. But to prove this and to have a little fun among
themselves, they would sometimes use him as a mark at which to throw
their spears or darts.
Setting Baldur in the middle of the ring, these gods of Asgard would
each throw something at him.
If a stone struck him it would only glance off and never hurt. No arrow
could pierce his skin. Nothing harmed him, and Baldur would smile as
they played their rough play, for he knew that no one of them would work
him any ill.
But Loki was different from all the others in Asgard. He could not
endure to have Baldur so loved, and wished that some one could harm
him. At last Loki dressed himself up as an old woman and went to
Frigga's palace. Kind Frigga took the old woman by the hand and brought
her into Fensalir.
Loki, in the shape of the old woman, pretended to be very friendly.
"Do you know what the gods are doing to Baldur when you are not by?"
Loki asked.
"Yes, they are proving that all things have kept their promise not to
hurt my boy."
"What!" said the old woman, "have all things promised not to hurt
Baldur?"
"All things," said Frigga. "All but one little plant that grows on the
eastern side of Valhalla. It is called the mistletoe. It is so weak and
small that I did not ask it to join with the others. I thought it could
harm no one."
The old woman left Fensalir. In a few moments Loki appeared on the
eastern side of Valhalla and plucked a bit of mistletoe from an old oak
that shaded Woden's palace. No one saw him, for he was as sly as a fox
and as tricky. Hiding the mistletoe in his hand, he hurried back to the
circle of gods who were seated around Baldur.
One god who was blind sat outside the ring.
"Why don't you join in the sport?" asked the wicked Loki.
"I cannot see where Baldur is; and nothing could or would harm anyone so
good," said the blind god.
"I will show you where to sit and you shall have this little sprig that
is in my hand to throw. You must not be left out of the sport because
you are blind," and Loki handed the mistletoe to him.
The others welcomed the blind god to the ring and made him happy by
telling him that Baldur smiled at all of their strokes.
"Let me throw next," said Hodur, the blind god. Loki stood by him and
directed his hand as Hodur threw the mistletoe.
Poor Baldur! The mistletoe pierced his heart through and through. He
fell backward dead.
Hodur was wild with grief. The other gods knew that the treacherous Loki
had done it, and did not blame Hodur. Frigga asked which of the gods
would dare to ride to Loki's home to bring Baldur back.
Hermod, called the nimble, an older brother of Baldur, said he would go.
Woden, his father, told him to take the horse Sleipnir. Sleipnir had
never carried any one but Woden himself. He had twice as many legs as
any other horse. He made eight tracks instead of four.
Hermod mounted Sleipnir and rode fast for nine days and nine nights
until he came to the land of Death, where Loki loved to stay.
Hela, who ruled there, said Baldur might return if all things above
mourned for him.
[Illustration: WODEN ON THE THRONE. Thor on the left, Freya on the
right, holding mistletoe. Loki at the bottom, suffering for the murder
of Baldur. From an ancient bas-relief.]
Hermod rode back and asked all things if Baldur should return. All
begged for Baldur but one old hag, who sat on the side of a mountain.
Everything else wept for Baldur. Tears stood on the rocks about her as
we have seen drops of water on the hardest rock in early morning; the
leaves of the trees shed tears of grief. This old hag refused to weep.
Baldur could not return.
After the test was over, the gods believed that the old creature on the
mountain side was Loki disguised in this way. It must have been the evil
Loki, for nothing else could have been so cruel.
Loki met his punishment at last, but that did not save Baldur the
Beautiful, the golden-haired god, whom his blind brother, dwelling in
darkness, slays again at every even fall.
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