Gordius, being made king, dedicated his wagon to the deity of the
oracle, and tied it up in its place with a fast knot. This was the
celebrated _Gordian knot_, which, in after times it was said, whoever
should untie should become lord of all Asia. Many tried to untie it, but
none succeeded, till Alexander the Great, in his career of conquest,
came to Phrygia. He tried his skill with as ill success as others, till
growing impatient he drew his sword and cut the knot. When he afterwards
succeeded in subjecting all Asia to his sway, people began to think that
he had complied with the terms of the oracle according to its true
meaning.
BAUCIS AND PHILEMON
On a certain hill in Phrygia stands a linden tree and an oak, enclosed
by a low wall. Not far from the spot is a marsh, formerly good habitable
land, but now indented with pools, the resort of fen-birds and
cormorants. Once on a time Jupiter, in human shape, visited this
country, and with him his son Mercury (he of the caduceus), without his
wings. They presented themselves, as weary travellers, at many a door,
seeking rest and shelter, but found all closed, for it was late, and the
inhospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves to open for their
reception. At last a humble mansion received them, a small thatched
cottage, where Baucis, a pious old dame, and her husband Philemon,
united when young, had grown old together. Not ashamed of their poverty,
they made it endurable by moderate desires and kind dispositions. One
need not look there for master or for servant; they two were the whole
household, master and servant alike. When the two heavenly guests
crossed the humble threshold, and bowed their heads to pass under the
low door, the old man placed a seat, on which Baucis, bustling and
attentive, spread a cloth, and begged them to sit down. Then she raked
out the coals from the ashes, and kindled up a fire, fed it with leaves
and dry bark, and with her scanty breath blew it into a flame. She
brought out of a corner split sticks and dry branches, broke them up,
and placed them under the small kettle. Her husband collected some
pot-herbs in the garden, and she shred them from the stalks, and
prepared them for the pot. He reached down with a forked stick a flitch
of bacon hanging in the chimney, cut a small piece, and put it in the
pot to boil with the herbs, setting away the rest for another time. A
beechen bowl was filled with warm water, that their guests might wash.
While all was doing, they beguiled the time with conversation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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