Part 13

Scylla, daughter of Hecate and of Phorcys, was a beautiful nymph, greatly beloved by Glaucus, also one of the deities of the sea. Scylla scorned his addresses, and the God, to render her propitious, sought the aid of Circe, who no sooner saw him than she became enamoured, and, instead of assisting him, tried to win his love to herself tho' in vain. To punish her rival, Circe poured the juice of poisonous herbs into the waters of the fountain where Scylla bathed, and no sooner had the nymph entered, than her body, below the {148} waist, was changed into frightful monsters, like dogs, which never ceased barking, while the remainder of her form assumed an equally hideous appearance, being supported by twelve feet, with six different heads, each bearing three rows of teeth. This sudden metamorphose so alarmed her, that she threw herself into that part of the sea which separates the coast of Italy and Sicily, where she was changed into rocks which continue to bear her name, and which were deemed as dangerous to sailors, as the whirlpool of Charybdis, on the coast of Sicily, and from which has arisen the proverb, "By avoiding Charybdis we fall upon Scylla!"

"Upon the beech a winding bay there lies, Sheltered from seas, and shaded from the skies; This station Scylla chose; a soft retreat From chilling winds and raging cancer's heat. The vengeful sorceress visits this recess, Her charm infuses, and infects the place. Soon as the nymph wades in, her nether parts Turn into dogs, then at herself she starts. A ghastly horror in her eyes appears But yet she knows not what it is she fears, In vain she offers from herself to run, And drag's about her what she strives to shun. "Oppressed with grief the pitying god appears, And swells the rising surges with his tears; From the detested sorceress he flies, Her art reviles, and her address denies, Whilst happless Scylla, changed to rocks, decrees Destruction to those barks that beat the seas."

GARTH.

The Harpies were monsters with the faces of old women, the wings and body of a vulture, the ears of a bear, having claws on their feet and hands, and spreading famine wherever they made their hideous appearance.

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DIVINITIES OF THE INFERNAL REGIONS.

The Parcae or Fates, were three powerful goddesses, who presided over the birth and life of mankind. Clotho, the youngest of the sisters, governed the moment of birth, and held a distaff in her hand: Lacheses spun out all the events and actions in the time; and Atropos, the eldest, cut the thread of humanity with her scissors.

"The fates, in vengeance pitiless; Who at the birth of men dispense the lot Of good and evil. They of men and gods The crimes pursue, nor ever pause from wrath Tremendous, till destructive on the head Of him that sins the retribution falls."

HESIOD.

Their powers were great and extensive, and they are represented by some as sitting at the foot of the throne of the King of Hell; while others make them appear on radiant seats amidst the celestial spheres, clothed in robes spangled with stars, and wearing crowns on their heads.

Their dresses are differently described by some authors.

Clotho has on a variegated robe, and on her head a crown of seven stars. She holds a distaff in her hand, reaching from heaven to earth. The garment which Lacheses wore was variegated with a great number of stars, and near her a variety of spindles. Atropos was clothed in black; she held scissors in her hand, with clues of threads of various sizes, according to the length or shortness of the lives whose destinies they were supposed to contain.

"The three Parcae, Fates fair offspring born, The world's great spindle as its axle turn; Round which eight spheres in beauteous order run, And as they turn, revolving Time is spun, Whose motions all things upon earth ordain, Whence revolutions date their fickle reign. These robed in white, at equal distance throned, Sit o'er the spheres, and twirl the spindle round, On each of which a syren loudly sings, As from the wheel the fatal thread she flings; The Parcae answer, in the choir agree And all those voices make one harmony."

The worship of the Parcae was well established in some parts of Greece, and though mankind knew they were inexorable, and that {150} it was impossible to mitigate their decrees, yet they evinced a respect for their divinity, by raising statues to them.

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NIGHT.

Nox, one of the most ancient deities among the heathens, was the daughter of Chaos. From her union with her brother Erebus, she gave birth to day and light: she is called by some of the poets, the mother of all things, of gods no less than of men, and was worshipped with great solemnity by the ancients, who erected to her a famous statue in Diana's temple at Ephesus. The cock was offered to her, as the bird which proclaims the coming of the day. She is drawn mounted on a chariot, and covered with a veil bespangled with stars, and the constellations preceded her as her messengers.

Sometimes she is seen holding two children under her arms, one of which is dark like night, and the other light like day.

"Night, when like perfumes that have slept All day within the wild flower's heart, Steal out the thoughts the soul has kept In silence and apart: And voices we have pined to hear, Through many a long and lonely day, Come back upon the dreaming ear, From grave lands far away, And gleams look forth of spirit eyes Like stars along the darkening skies!"

HERVEY.

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She has been described by some of the modern writers, as a woman clothed in mourning, crowned with poppies, and drawn in a chariot by owls and bats.

SONG OF NIGHT.

"I come to thee, O Earth! With all my gifts; for every flower, sweet dew In bell, and urn, and chalice, to renew The glory of its birth.

I come with every star; Making thy streams, that on their noon-day track, Give but the moss, the reed, the lily back, Mirrors of world's afar.

I come with peace; I shed Sleep through the wood walks, o'er the honey bee, The lark's triumphant voice, the fawn's young glee, The hyacinth's meek head.

On my own heart I lay The weary babe; and sealing with a breath Its eyes of love, send fairy dreams, beneath The shadowing lids to play.

I come with mightier things! Who calls me silent? I have many tones-- The dark skies thrill with low mysterious moans, Borne on my sweeping wings.

I waft them not alone From the deep organ of the forest shades, Or buried streams, unheard amidst their glades Till the bright day is done.

But in the human breast, A thousand still, small voices I awake, Strong in their sweetness, from the soul to shake The mantle of its rest.

I bring them from the past, From true hearts broken, gentle spirits torn, From crushed affections, which, though long o'erborne, Make their tones heard at last.

I bring them from the tomb! O'er the sad couch of late repentant love They pass--though low as murmurs of a dove-- Like trumpets through the gloom.

I come with all my train; Who calls me lonely? Hosts around me tread, The intensely bright, the beautiful, the dead, Phantoms of heart and brain.

Looks from departed eyes-- These are my lightnings! fill'd with anguish vain, Or tenderness too precious to sustain, They smite with agonies.

{152} I that with soft control, Shut the dim violet, hush the woodland song, I am the avenging one! the arm'd, the strong, The searcher of the soul.

I that shower dewy light Through slumbering leaves, bring storms!--the tempest birth Of memory, thought, remorse:--be holy, Earth! I am the solemn night!"

HEMANS.

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DEATH.

Poets have given to Death a heart of iron, bowels of steel, black wings, and a net with which she envelopes her victims. Statuaries carve her under the form of a large skeleton, armed with a scythe, and bearing wings. Sparta and Elis honoured her, but Phoenicia and Spain paid to her more particularly the homage of a divinity. She inhabits the infernal regions; and though, in more modern times, Death has been always addressed as a divinity of the masculine gender. The Lacedaemonians indeed, regarded her, not as an existing, but as an imaginary being.

"Mysterious power! whose dark and gloomy sway Extends o'er all creation, what art thou? They call thee 'King of Terrors!' drear dismay Followeth thy footsteps, and around thy brow Hovers a thick impenetrable cloud, Which, to some hearts, is Hope's sad funeral shroud.

Beside the infant on its cradle bed, The mother watches thro' the hour of night; Hope hath not quite her lonely spirit fled, Tho' o'er her first-born babe hath passed the blight Of fell disease: wait, wait one moment more, Thy hand has touched it, Death, and hope is o'er.

Thou turn'st the hall of revelry to gloom, The wedding garment to a garb of woe; Thou com'st in silence to the banquet room, Ceased is the noisy mirth, the red wine's flow, And men look pale at thee, and gasp for breath, Thou doest this, thou doest more, oh! Death

Thou twin'st the cypress wreath round victory's brow, The brave have won the fight, but, fighting, fell; It was thine arm that laid the victor low, And toll'd amid the triumph, a lone knell For his departure: Death--thy gloomy power Can throw a sadness o'er the happiest hour.

Thou comest to the monarch in his hour Of pomp, and pride, and royalty's array; And the next victim of thy reckless power May be the beggar in his hut of clay: Thy hand can lay the tattered vagrant down Beside the head that wore the kingly crown.

{153} Childhood is thine, its unexpanded bloom, Shrinks to decay beneath thy chilling breath; Gay Youth, thou witherest, with thy touch of doom, Stern Manhood shrinks beneath thy grasp, oh, death, And fragile Age by worldly cares opprest, Sinks, softly sinks, into those arms for rest.

And then methought death's hollow voice replied, 'Rash mortal--would'st thou tempt the dangerous gloom, Launch thy frail bark upon the awful tide That leaves the lonely islands of the tomb; Darest thou, in thy vain impotence of pride Demand the knowledge to frail man denied?

Call'st thou me reckless, when I place my hand Upon the earliest buddings of the spring? Had I allowed those sweet buds to expand, What would the skies of gloomy autumn bring? Darkness, dismay: those sweet buds, leaf by leaf, Had sadly faded, full of tears and grief.

What though I slew the victor in his pride, 'Tis meet the brave on battle field should die, His name is echoed thro' the nations wide, Reared is the column where his ashes lie; He sought for fame, he won it, bravely won; He died for fame, when his great task was done.

What tho' I turn the banquet room to grief, The wedding garment to a garb of woe, Do I not bring to wounded hearts relief? Do I not ease the wretched of his woe? Then taunt me not with wanton cruelty, Man knows 'tis written 'thou must surely die!'

But at what hour, no mortal power may know, Whether at morn, at dewy eve, or night, When sinks the heart beneath its weight of woe, Or throb the pulses with supreme delight, Vain mortal! cease God's sovereign will to scan, Be thou prepared to meet the son of man!'"

CLARKE.

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SLEEP.

Sleep, the accustomed companion of night, inhabits the lower regions, though Ovid has placed his palace in the cold Scythia.

"In his dark abode Deep in a cavern dwells the drowsy god, Whose gloomy mansion nor the rising sun Nor setting, visits, nor the lightsome noon; But lazy vapours round the region fly, Perpetual twilight and a doubtful sky; No crowing cock does there his wings display Nor with his horny bill provoke the day; Nor watchful dogs, nor the more wakeful geese, Disturb, with nightly noise, the sacred peace: {154} Nor beast of nature nor the laws, are nigh, Nor trees with tempests rocked, nor human cry, But safe repose, without an air of breath, Dwells here, and a dumb quiet next to death, An arm of Lethe with a gentle flow, Arising upward from the rock below, The palace moats, and o'er the pebbles creeps, And with soft murmurs calls the coming sleeps. Around its entry nodding poppies grew, And all cool simples that sweet rest bestow; Night from the plants their sleepy virtue drains, And passing, sheds it on the silent plains: No door there was th' unguarded house to keep, On creaking hinges turned to break his sleep. But in the gloomy court was raised a bed, Stuffed with black plumes, and in an ebon stead; Black was the covering too where lay the god, And slept supine, his limbs displayed abroad."

OVID.

The principal minister of Sleep is Morpheus, son of Somnus, who was the presider over sleep; the former was the parent of dreams, of whom, by a beautiful idea, imagination was said to be the mother. The palace of Somnus was a dark cave, where the god lies asleep on a bed of feathers. The dreams stand by him, and Morpheus, as his principal minister, watches, to prevent any noise from awaking him.

"Oh lightly, lightly tread, A holy thing is sleep; On the worn spirit shed, And eyes that wake to weep. A holy thing from heaven, A gracious, dewy cloud, A covering mantle given, The weary to enshroud!

Oh! lightly, lightly tread; Revere the pale, still brow, The meekly drooping head, The long hair's willowy flow. Ye know not what ye do, That call the slumberers back, From the world unseen by you Unto life's dim faded track.

Her soul is far away, In her childhood's land, perchance, Where her young sisters play, Where shines her mother's glance. Some old sweet native sound Her spirit haply weaves; A harmony profound, Of woods with all their leaves.

{155} A murmur of the sea, A laughing tone of streams; Long may her sojourn be In the music land of dreams. Each voice of love is there, Each gleam of beauty fled, Each lost one still more fair-- Oh! lightly, lightly tread!"

HEMANS.

By the Lacedaemonians, the image of Somnus was always placed near that of death on account of their apparent resemblance.

"How wonderful is death, Death and his brother Sleep! One, pale as yonder waning moon, With lips of lurid blue; The other rosy as the morn When throned in ocean's wave, It blushes o'er the world: Yet both so passing wonderful!"

SHELLEY.

"The one glides gentle o'er the space Of earth, and broad expanse of ocean waves, Placid to man. The other has a heart Of iron; yea, the heart within his breast Is brass, unpitying; whom of men he grasps Stern he retains."

HESIOD

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MANES.

The Manes was a name applied generally to the soul after it has separated from the body, and were among the infernal deities being supposed to preside over the grave, burial places, and monuments of the dead.

They were worshipped with great great solemnity, particularly by the Romans, and were always invoked by the Augurs before proceeding about their sacerdotal offices.

It was believed that these spirits quitted, during the hours of night, their melancholy dwelling-place, and "revisited the glimpses of the moon," to exercise their benevolence or their fury. They were allowed also to leave their tombs three times during the course of the year while their fetes, which were the most pompous in Rome, were proceeding in their honour.

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NEMESIS.

Nemesis, Goddess of Justice and of Vengeance, was the daughter of Necessity. This divinity had wings, a fillet of serpents round her brow, and a sword to strike the unhappy criminals who merited its blow;--though always ready to punish the impious, she was equally liberal in rewarding the good and the virtuous. The people of Smyrna were the first who made her statue with wings, to show with what celerity she is prepared to punish the crimes of the wicked.

The Romans were particularly attentive in their adoration of this deity, whom they solemnly invoked, and to whom they offered sacrifices before declaring war, to evince to the world that they were commenced upon equitable grounds.

The Athenians instituted fetes called Nemesia, in memory of deceased persons, as the goddess was supposed to defend the relics and the memory of the dead from insult.

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DOMESTIC DIVINITIES.

THE LARES AND THE PENATES.

The Lares were the household divinities who presided over the interests of private families. Their worship is supposed to have {157} arisen from the ancient custom among the Romans and other nations, of burying their dead within their houses, and the belief that the spirits of the departed continually hovered over their former dwellings, for the protection of the inhabitants. Their statues were placed in a niche behind the doors of the houses, or around the hearths; while at their feet was placed a dog barking, to intimate the watchfulness they exhibited. Their festivals were observed at Rome in the month of May, when their statues were crowned with garlands of flowers, and fruit offerings presented to them.

The Penates also closely resembled the Lares, and presided over houses and the domestic affairs of families. It was at the option of every master of a family to choose his Penates, and therefore Jupiter and some of the superior gods, are often invoked as domestic divinities.

They were originally the manes of the dead, but when mankind had been taught by superstition to pay deep reverence to the statues or images of their deceased friends, that reverence was soon changed for a more regular worship, and they were admitted by their votaries to share immortality and power, with the remainder or the Gods.

The statues of the Penates were generally formed of wax, silver, ivory, or earthenware, according to the poverty or riches of the worshipper.

When offerings were made to them, their shrines were crowned with garlands, and besides one day in every month set apart for their homage, their festivals were celebrated during the Saturnalia.

HYMN TO THE PENATES.

"Yet one song more! one high and solemn strain, Ere, Phoebus! on thy temples ruined wall I hang the silent harp: one song more! Penates! hear me! for to you I hymn The votive lay. Venerable powers! Hearken your hymn of praise. Though from your rites Estranged, and exiled from your altars long, I have not ceased to love you, Household Gods! O ye whom youth has 'wildered on your way, Or vice with fair mask'd foulness, or the lure Of Fame that calls ye to her crowded path With folly's rattle, to your Household Gods Return: for not in Vice's gay abodes, {158} Not in the unquiet, unsafe halls of Fame Doth Happiness abide!" -----------------"To your Household Gods Return, for by their altars, Virtue dwells, And Happiness with her; hearken your hymn of praise, Penates! to your shrines I come for rest,-- There only to be found. Household Deities, There only shall be Happiness on earth When man shall feel your sacred power, and love Your tranquil joys; then shall the city stand A huge, void sepulchre, and rising fair Amid the ruins of the palace pile, The olive grow, there shall the tree of peace Strike its roots deep, and flourish."

SOUTHEY.

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GENIUS.

The Genius was a kind of spirit which, as the ancients supposed, presided over the actions of mankind, gave them their private councils, and carefully watched over their most secret intentions. Some of the ancient philosophers maintained, that every man had two of these, the one bad, the other good. They had the power of changing themselves into whatever form they pleased, and of assuming whatever shapes were most subservient to their intentions. At the moment of death, they delivered up to judgment the person with whose care they had been entrusted; and according to the evidence he delivered, sentence was passed upon the body. The Genius of Socrates is famous in history. That great philosopher asserted that the Genius informed him when any of his friends were going to engage in some unfortunate enterprise, and stopped him from the commission of all crimes and impiety. The Genii, though at first reckoned only as the subordinate ministers of the superior deities, received divine honour for a length of time, and we find altars and statues erected to them.

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PRINCIPAL DIVINITIES OF THE SECOND ORDER.

THE GRACES.

The Graces, who were daughters of Jupiter and of Venus, presided over the enjoyments of the mind, as well as over those of the heart. Thus the orator received from them the force and brilliancy of his ideas; the artist, his perception of the beautiful; the wise man, that spirit of amiability which appreciates the charms of {159} virtue; the rich man, a love of beneficence and desire of giving; the poor gaiety and patience; the maiden, candour and modesty; and the warrior, bravery united with moderation.

The worship of the Graces appeals to have had birth in Samothracia; then Elis, Perinthia, Delphi, and Rome adopted the three sisters. By some it is asserted, that the beautiful trio remained unwedded; Homer, however, has given Sleep to the youngest as a husband.

During the many sacrifices which were instituted in the various cities, offerings to them were mingled with those to Bacchus, Mercury, the Muses, and Apollo.

The Spartan heroes before going to combat, sacrificed to Love and to the Graces. They were invoked at festivals, and three cups were drunk by those who feasted in honour of Euphrosyne, Aglaia, and Thalia.

Of them, the greatest statuaries have erected the most groups, and Socrates himself, before he joined the philosophy in which he ultimately became so eminent, had taken the chisel in his hand, and represented them of slight figure, pure countenance, smiling faces, small mouths, hair negligently tied over their head, and with their hands placed in a graceful attitude.

They sometimes bear with them a branch of myrtle and of roses, the flowers peculiarly consecrated to them.

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COMUS, MOMUS.

Comus, God of the pleasures of the table and of good living, was the presider over feasts and festivals, and was honoured most by the dissipated youth who, to do him reverence, wandered about at night in masks, dancing to the sound of musical instruments, and knocking at the doors of dwelling places. During his festivals, men and women exchanged each others dresses. He is represented as a young and drunken man, with a garland of flowers upon his head, his face lit up by the deity of wine, and with a flambeau in his hand which appears falling.

SONG OF COMUS.