Stories of Old Greece and RomeBaker, Emilie K. (Emilie Kip)
General
Stories of Old Greece and Rome
Baker, Emilie K. (Emilie Kip)
Mythology, Greek -- Juvenile literature; Mythology, Roman -- Juvenile literature
He knew that no second chance would be given him to win his wife from
Pluto's hold, even if he could again charm the three-headed Cerberus
or persuade Charon, the grim ferryman, to take him across the river.
So he went forlornly back to earth and lived in a forest cave far
from the companionship of men. At first there was only his lyre to
share his solitude, but soon the forest creatures came to live beside
him, and often sat listening to his music, looking exceedingly wise
and sorrowful. Even in his sleepless hours, when he fancied he heard
Eurydice calling, he was never quite alone, for the bat and owl and
the things that love the darkness flitted about him, and he saw the
glow-worms creep toward him out of the night-cold grass.
One day a party of Bacchantes found him seated outside the cave,
playing the mournful music that told of his lost love, and they bade
him change the sad notes to something gay so that they might dance.
But Orpheus was too wrapped up in his sorrow to play any strain of
cheerful music, and he refused to do as they asked. The Bacchantes were
half maddened by their festival days of drinking, and this refusal so
enraged them that they fell upon the luckless musician and tore him to
pieces. Then they threw his mangled body into the river, and as the
head of Orpheus drifted down the stream, his lips murmured again and
again "Eurydice," until the hills echoed the beloved name, and the
rocks and trees and rivers repeated it in mournful chorus. Later on,
the Muses gathered up his remains to give them honorable burial; and it
is said that over Orpheus's grave the nightingale sings more sweetly
than in any other spot in Greece.[30]
Chapter XV
Mars and Vulcan
I
The three children of Jupiter and Juno were Hebe, Mars, and Vulcan.
Hebe, goddess of youth, was cupbearer at the feasts of Olympus and
poured from golden flagons the sparkling, ruby-tinted nectar. Many
times were the brimming cups emptied and filled again, for the gods
loved long draughts of the life-giving nectar that kept off all
sickness and decay. No wine of earth's yielding ever appeared at these
royal banquets, nor were there seen here the heaped-up platters of food
such as mortals crave; for the gods ate only of the divine ambrosia
which insured to them eternal youth and beauty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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