Half a Hundred Hero Tales of Ulysses and The Men of Old
General
Half a Hundred Hero Tales of Ulysses and The Men of Old
Mythology, Classical -- Juvenile literature
Just as he reached the farther bank and was taking up his bow he heard
a scream. Nessus had betrayed his trust, and was about to carry off
Deianira in the very sight of her husband. Swiftly flew an arrow from
the bow, which pierced the traitor's back. It was tinged with poison
from the hydra, and the wound was mortal. Nessus, as he drew the
barbed steel from his body, muttered to himself, "I will not die
unavenged." Then handing his blood-stained tunic to Deianira, he
cried, "I have sinned, and am justly punished. Pardon a dying man, and
in token of forgiveness accept from me a dying gift. Keep this tunic
as a talisman. If ever thy lord's love should wax cold, or he should
look upon another woman to love her more than thee, give him this
charmed tunic to wear, and it will rekindle his old passion."
[Illustration: HERCULES AND NESSUS]
Time passed by, and the feats of the mighty Hercules were known all
over the world. Returning victorious from battle he was preparing a
sacrifice vowed to Jupiter on Mount Oeta, when he found he lacked the
proper dress, and sent a messenger to Deianira for a robe. Meanwhile
rumor had been busy, and a tale had reached the ears of Deianira that
Hercules was in love with Iole, daughter of Eurytus, whom he had
lately vanquished and slain. As she loved him, she believed it, and
alarmed with the story burst into a torrent of grief. But soon she
took comfort. "Why these tears? They will only flatter my rival. I
must seek some means to keep my husband for myself." And then she
bethought herself of the tunic that Nessus had given her. What if she
gave this tunic to the messenger, so that Hercules should wear it, and
so by its virtue her husband be restored to her again?
The fatal gift was sent. Hercules, not knowing whose it had been, put
it on as he went to sacrifice. As he was pouring wine on the altars
the venom from the garment began to work. He tried to tear the tunic
from him, but it clung to him like a coat of pitch. He rolled in agony
on the ground, he tore away his very flesh, he roared in agony like a
wounded bull, and the hollows of Oeta reverberated his groans. At last
he fell exhausted, and his comrades bore him on a litter to the ships.
Then Hercules knew that his end was come, and, preparing himself to
die as a hero should, he gave his last injunctions to his son.
A pile was built with trees at the top of the mountain. To his friend
Philoctetes he gave the famous bow and quiver. Then, when the fire had
been kindled, he spread over all the skin of the Nemæan lion, and laid
himself down upon it, with his head resting on his club, as calmly as
a guest resting after the banquet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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