Athēne heard this and was much displeased. Assuming the form of an old woman, she appeared to Arachne, and kindly advised her to challenge her fellow mortals if she would, but at once to ask forgiveness of the goddess. Arachne bade the old dame to keep her counsel for others. “I am not afraid of the goddess. Let her try her skill if she dare venture.” “She comes,” said Athēne, and dropping her disguise stood confessed. The nymphs bent low in homage, and all the bystanders paid reverence. Arachne alone was unterrified. A sudden color dyed her cheeks, and then she grew pale; but she stood to her resolve, and rushed on her fate. They proceed to the contest. Each takes her station and attaches the web to the beam. Then the slender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. The reed with its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place, and compacts the web. Wool of Tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the eye. And the effect is like the bow whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed by sunbeams reflected from the shower, in which, when the colors meet, they seem as one, but at a little distance from the point of contact are wholly different. [Illustration: Athēne. _Glyptothek, Munich._] Athēne wrought on her web the scene of her contest with Posidon. Twelve of the heavenly powers were represented, Zeus with august gravity sitting in the midst. Posidon, the ruler of the sea, held his trident, and appeared to have just smitten the earth, from which a horse had leaped forth. The bright-eyed goddess depicted herself with helmeted head, her ægis covering her breast, as when she had created the olive tree, with its berries and its dark green leaves. But the most astonishing example of her skill appeared in a butterfly, so beautiful that only a poet can describe it properly. Listen to the charming description of the poet Spenser: Amongst these leaves she made a Butterfly, With excellent device and wondrous slight; Fluttering among the olives wantonly, That seemed to live, so like it was in sight; The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie, The silken down with which his back is dight; His broad outstretchèd horns, his hairy thighs, His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes. Which when Arachne saw, as overlaid And masterèd with workmanship so rare, She stood astonished long, ne aught gainsaid; And with fast fixèd eyes on her did stare. Such was the central circle of Athēne’s web; and in the four corners were represented incidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods at such presumptuous mortals as had dared to contend with them. These were meant as warnings from Athēne to her rival to give up the contest before it was too late.