Part 16

Not being pleased with the manner in which his application was received, he resolved, in the heat of passion, to desecrate the sacred temple by plundering it, and carrying away the holy tripod. Apollo opposed him, and a fierce conflict ensued, to put an end to which, however, Jupiter interfered with his Thunderbolts.

Indignant at the insult offered to the sacred edifice, the oracle declared that it could only be wiped away by the hero becoming a slave, and remaining in the most abject servitude for three years.

In compliance with the decree, Mercury, by the order of Jupiter, sold him to Omphale, Queen of Lydia, as a slave. But his services to this queen so astonished her, that she freed him from his servitude and married him. When the term for which he had been sold expired, Hercules left her, and returned to Peloponnessus, where he re-established Tyndaris on the throne of Sparta.

After this, he became one of the numerous suitors of Dejanira, who had been promised by her father in marriage to that one who should prove the strongest of all his competitors. The most dangerous foe to Hercules was Achelous, a river god, who, finding himself inferior in strength, changed himself into a serpent, and afterwards into an ox. Serpent strangling was, however, nothing new to Hercules, and he had but little trouble with his enemy as an ox, until at last Achelous retired in disgrace to his bed of waters.

After his marriage with Dejanira, he was compelled to leave his father-in-law's kingdom, from having accidentally slain one of the citizens. {184}

On his way to Ceyx, accompanied by Dejanira, he was stopped by a swollen stream, and Nessus, the Centaur, offered to convey her safely on his back to the opposite side of the river. As the hero's only anxiety was for her, he accepted the offer with thanks, and when he saw them through the worst part of the water in safety, prepared to follow, but no sooner had the Centaur landed with Dejanira, than he attempted to offer violence to his beautiful burthen, and to carry her away in the very sight of her husband.

The extraordinary efforts of the enraged Hercules, brought him up in time to let fly a poisoned arrow at the ravisher, which mortally wounded him. In his anguish, and burning for vengeance on his slayer, he gave Dejanira his tunic, which was covered with his blood.

"Take this," he said, feigning a repentance, "if ever your husband prove unfaithful, it will recall him to your arms;" and with this he expired.

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"For now his bridal charge employed his cares. The strong limbed Nessus thus officious cried, For he the shallows of the stream had tried, 'Swim thou, Alcides, all thy strength prepare, On yonder bank I'll lodge thy nuptial care.' Th' Aonian chief to Nessus trusts his wife. All pale, and trembling for her hero's life: Clothed as he stood in the fierce lion's hide, The laden quiver o'er his shoulder tied. Far cross the stream his bow and club were cast, Swift he plunged in, 'these billows shall be past,' He said, nor sought where smoother waters glide But stemmed the rapid dangers of the tide. The bank he reached, again the bow he bears, When, hark! his bride's known voice alarms his ears, 'Nessus, to thee I call,' aloud he cries,-- 'Vain is thy trust in flight, be timely wise; Thou monster double shaped, my right set free, If thou no reverence owe my fame and me, Yet kindred should thy lawless lust deny, Think not perfidious wretch, from me to fly; Tho' winged with horse's speed, wounds shall pursue,' Swift as his words the fatal arrow flew, The Centaur's back admits the feathered wood, And thro' his breast the barbed arrow stood, Which when in anguish, thro' the flesh he tore From both the wounds gushed forth the spumy gore, Mixed with the Lernaean venom, this he took, Nor dire revenge his dying breast forsook, His garment, in the reeking purple dyed To rouse love's passion, he presents the bride."

OVID.

Ceyx received them both with great favour, but Hercules could not forget that he had been refused the hand of Iole, although in possession of the heart of Dejanira, and therefore made war against her father, killing him, with three of his sons, while his former lover, Iole, fell into his hands, and found that she still held no slight possession of his affections.

She accompanied him to Oeta, where he was going to raise an altar, and offer a sacrifice to Jupiter. Dejanira, aware of his purpose, and of the affection he had manifested for her rival, sent to him the tunic given her by the Centaur, Nessus, but no sooner had he put it on, than the poison with which it was saturated, penetrated through his bones, and attaching itself to the flesh, eat into it like fire.

"She now resolves to send the fatal vest, Dyed with Lernaean gore, whose power might move His soul anew, and rouse declining love, Nor knew she what her sudden rage bestows, When she to Lychas trusts her future woes; With soft endearment she the boy commands, To bear the garment to her husband's hands. Th' unwilling hero takes the gift in haste, And o'er his shoulders Lerna's poison cast, At first the fire with frankincense he strews, And utters to the gods his holy vows; And on the marble altar's polished frame Pours forth the grapy stream; the rising flame Sudden dissolves the subtle poisoning juice Which taints his blood, and all his nerves bedews. {186} With wonted fortitude he bore the smart, And not a groan confessed his burning heart, At length his patience was subdued by pain Oetes wide forests echo with his cries; Now to rip off the deathful robe he tries. Where'er he plucks the vest, the skin he tears The mangled muscles and huge bones he bares. (A ghastly sight!) or raging with his pain, To rend the sick'ning plague, he tugs in vain. As the red iron hisses in the flood, So boils the venom in his curdling blood. Now with the greedy flame his entrails glow, And livid sweats down all his body flow. The cracking nerves, burnt up, are burst in twain, The lurking venom melts his swimming brain."

OVID.

When Lychas, by the command of Dejanira, had brought the fatal scarf, and Hercules became aware of its dreadful power, he seized the messenger, and hurled him into the sea with fearful violence.

In vain did he attempt to pull it off, he only tore with it masses of flesh. In the midst of his miserable tortures, his groans of anguish were mixed with imprecations on the credulity of Dejanira, and the jealousy and hatred of Juno, to whom he attributed all his pains.

"Then lifting both his hands aloft, he cries, 'Glut thy revenge, dread empress of the skies; Sate with my death the rancour of thy heart, Look down with pleasure and enjoy my smart; Or, if e'er pity moved a hostile breast For here I stand thy enemy profest;' {187} Meanwhile, whate'er was in the power of flame, Was all consumed; his body's nervous frame No more was known; of human form bereft-- The eternal part of Jove alone was left. As an old serpent casts his scaly vest, Wreathes in the Sun, in youthful glory drest; So, when Alcides' mortal mould resigned, His better part enlarged, and grew refined: August his visage shone; almighty Jove, In his swift car his honoured offspring drove: High o'er the hollow clouds the coursers fly, And lodge the hero in the starry sky."

OVID.

If his fame had been universal, his worship soon became equally so, and Juno, once so inveterate, consented to his receiving her daughter Hebe in marriage.

Hercules is generally represented as gigantically proportioned, sometimes naked, sometimes covered with the skin of the Nemean lion; a thick and knotted club in his hands, on which he is often seen leaning.

Such are the most important parts of the life of Hercules, who is held out by the ancients as a complete pattern of virtue and piety, and is asserted by them to have been employed for the benefit of mankind, and for this was deservedly rewarded with immortality.

"O worthy end of his laborious life, The nectared cup, and Hebe for a wife! Her golden youth did with new transports play, And crowned his toils in empyrean day. Yet did he oft, though in her arms he lay, And tasted to the height immortal youth, Sigh for young Iole, who, soft as May, And rich as Summer, yielded up her truth; There by Euripus, ever fickle stream, He won a world in her immortal arms, And found his prized honour but a dream Lost in the Ocean of her gentle charms."

THURLOW.

He has received many surnames and epithets, either from the place where his worship was established, or from the labours which he had achieved; his temples were numerous and magnificent. The Phoenicians offered Quails on his altars, and as it was supposed that he presided over dreams, the sick and infirm were sent to sleep in his temples, that they might receive in their visions the agreeable presages of their approaching recovery.

The children of Hercules are as numerous as the labours and difficulties which he underwent, and became so powerful after his death, that they alone had the bravery to invade the Peloponnessus. {188}

"'Take hence this hateful life, with tortures torn, Inured to trouble, and to labours born. Death is the gift most welcome to my woe, And such a gift a stepdame may bestow. Was it for this Busiris was subdued, Whose barbarous temples reeked with stranger's blood? Pressed in these arms his fate Antaeus found, Nor gained recruited vigour from the ground. Did I not triple-formed Geryon fell? Or, did I fear the triple dog of hell? Did not these hands the bull's armed forehead hold? Are not our mighty toils in Elis told? Did not Stymphalian lakes proclaim my fame? And fair Parthenian woods resound my name? Who seized the golden belt of Thermodon? And who the dragon-guarded apples won? Could the fair Centaur's strength my force withstand? Or the fell boar that spoiled the Arcadian land? Did not these arms the Hydra's rage subdue, Who from his wounds to double fury grew. What if the Thracian horses, fat with gore, Who human bodies in their manger tore, I saw, and with their barbarous lord, o'erthrew? What if these hands Nemaea's lion slew? Did not this neck the heavenly globe sustain? The female partner of the Thunderer's reign, Fatigued at length, suspends her harsh commands, Yet no fatigue has slacked these valiant hands; But now, new plagues consume me; neither force, Nor arms, nor darts can stop their raging course, Devouring flame through my racked entrails strays, And on my lungs and shrivelled muscles preys.'"

OVID.

As, however, the distemper was incurable, and death inevitable, he determined to die the hero he had lived, and giving his bow and arrow to Philoctetes, he erected a funeral pile on Mount Oeta, and spreading upon it his lion's skin, lay down with dignity and composure, his head placed upon his club, to await his death. The pile was lighted, and the flames arose in volumes, but the hero gazed calmly upon them, unalarmed at his impending doom. His mind was resolved to meet his fate, when, suddenly, the burning pile was surrounded with dark smoke, the fire burned like a furnace, and when it had consumed the mortal portion of Hercules, a chariot and horses was seen awaiting, which carried his immortal part to heaven, there to be seated amongst the gods. Loud claps of thunder accompanied his exaltation, and when his friends sought his ashes to grant them burial, unable to find them, they erected an altar to his memory, upon the spot where the burning pile had been.

* * * * *

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PERSEUS.

This hero was the son of Jupiter and Danae, the daughter of Acresius. As the latter had confined his daughter in a brazen tower, to prevent her becoming a mother, because, according to the words of an oracle, he was to perish by the hands of his daughter's son, Perseus was no sooner born, than Acresius caused him to be thrown into the sea, with his mother, Danae. The hopes of the father were frustrated; for the slight bark which carried Danae and her son, was driven on the island of Seriphos, one of the Cyclades, where they were found by a fisherman named Dictys, and carried by him to Polydectes, the monarch of the place, by whom they were received with much kindness, and the priests of Minerva's temple had the charge of the youthful Perseus entrusted to them.

His rising genius and great courage fell under the displeasure of Polydectes, who feared, lest the love with which he soon became inspired towards Danae, and the intentions which he harboured towards her, should meet with the resentment of her son. The monarch, however, resolved to remove every obstacle out of his way, and made a sumptuous banquet, decreeing that all who came should present him with a beautiful horse. To this feast Perseus was invited, Polydectes being aware that he would not be able to procure the present which the wealth of the remaining guests could enable them to offer.

To a high spirited man this was unbearable, and unable to submit to the position of being the only one who had brought no present, and unwilling to appear inferior to the remainder of the guests in splendour, he told Polydectes, that though he was unable to give him a horse, he would bring him the head of one of the Gorgons, and Medusa being the only one subject to mortality, she must be the victim.

For more than one reason this was very agreeable to Polydectes, in the first place, as it would remove Perseus from the island, and the next that, from its seeming impossibility, the attempt might end in his ruin.

The gods, however, are the protectors of innocence, and that of Perseus was made their peculiar care. Pluto lent him his helmet, possessing the wonderful power of making the bearer invisible. The buckler of Minerva, as resplendent as glass, was given him by {190} that goddess. Mercury gave him wings and the Calaria, with a short dagger formed of diamonds. With this assistance Perseus boldly commenced his expedition, traversing the air, conducted by Minerva. He went first to the Graces, the sisters of the Gorgons, who possessed but one eye and one tooth among the three; with the assistance of Pluto's helmet, which rendered him invisible, Perseus was able to steal their eye and their tooth while sleeping, and refused to return them until they had informed him where their sisters, the Gorgons resided.

When the necessary information had been received, Perseus sought the habitation of the Gorgons, whom he fortunately found asleep. Knowing that if he fixed his eyes upon them, he would be changed to stone, he used his shield, which was transparent, as a mirror to reflect the object he sought to destroy. Keeping his eyes thus fixed upon them, he approached, Minerva supporting his courage, and with one blow of his sword, cut off Medusa's head.

The noise of the blow awoke the two remaining sisters, who frantic with rage, looked around for the murderer of their sister, but in vain, for he had already put on the invisible helmet of Pluto, and the attempts of the Gorgons to avenge the death of the sister were fruitless.

The conqueror pursued his way through the air, and from the blood which dropped from the head of the slain Gorgon he carried with him, arose the innumerable serpents which have for ages infested the sandy deserts of Lybia.

"Where western waves on furthest Lybia beat, Dreadful Medusa fixed her horrid seat. 'Twas from this monster, to afflict mankind, That nature first produced the snaky kind: On her at first their forky tongues appeared, From her their dreadful hissings first were heard."

OVID

Chrysaor, who married Callirhoe, one of the Oceanides, sprung with his golden sword from those drops of blood, as well as the winged Pegasus, which flew directly through the air, and stopping on the Mount bearing the same name, became a favorite with the Muses.

In the meantime young Perseus pursued his flight through the air, across the deserts of Lybia. The approach of night compelled him to seek a brief shelter with Atlas, monarch of Mauritania. {191}

"The victor Perseus, with the Gorgon head, O'er Lybian sands his airy journey sped. The gory drops distilled as swift he flew, And from each drop envenomed serpents grew. The mischiefs brooded on the barren plains, And still the unhappy fruitfulness remains. Thence Perseus, like a cloud, by storms was driv'n, Thro' all the expanse beneath the cope of heaven. The jarring winds unable to control, He saw the southern and the northern pole: And eastward thrice, and westward thrice was whirled, And from the skies surveyed the nether world. But when grey ev'ning showed the verge of night, He feared in darkness to pursue his flight. He poised his pinions, and forgot to soar, And sinking, closed them on th' Hesperian shore: Then begged to rest, till Lucifer begun To wake the morn, the morn to wake the sun. Here Atlas reigned of more than human size, And in his kingdom the world's limit lies. Here Titan bids his wearied coursers sleep, And cools the burning axle in the deep. The mighty monarch, uncontrolled, alone, His sceptre sways; no neighb'ring states are known. A thousand flocks on shady mountains fed, A thousand herds o'er grassy plains were spread: Her wondrous trees their shining stores unfold, Their shining stores too wondrous to be told; Their leaves, their branches, and their apples, gold. Then Perseus the gigantic prince addressed, Humbly implored a hospitable rest: If bold exploits thy admiration fire, (He said), I fancy, mine thou wilt admire: Or if the glory of a race can move, Not mean my glory, for I spring from Jove."

OVID.

He went to his palace, expecting to meet with an hospitable reception from Atlas, by announcing himself the son of Jupiter, but he found himself grievously deceived. It occurred to the recollection of Atlas, that an ancient tradition had announced that his gardens were to be plundered of their fruits by one of the sons of the King of Heaven; and not only did he rudely refuse to shelter him, but offered violence to his person, and attempted to slay him.

Finding himself unable to contend with so powerful a foe, Perseus was obliged to have recourse to the head of Medusa, and Atlas was instantly changed into a large mountain, which bore the same name in the deserts of Africa.

"At this confession Atlas ghastly stared, Mindful of what an oracle declared, That the dark womb of time concealed a day, Which should, disclosed, the gloomy gold betray: {192} All should at once be ravished from his eyes, And Jove's own progeny enjoy the prize. For this, the fruit he loftily immured, And a fierce dragon the strait pass secured; For this, all strangers he forbade to land, And drove them from the inhospitable strand, To Perseus then: 'Fly quickly, fly this coast, Nor falsely dare thy acts and race to boast.' In vain the hero for one night entreats; Threat'ning he storms, and next adds force to threats. By strength not Perseus could himself defend, For who in strength with Atlas could contend?-- 'But since short rest to me thou wilt not give, A gift of endless rest from me receive.--' He said, and backward turned, no more concealed The present, and Medusa's head reveal'd. Soon the high Atlas a high mountain stood; His locks, and beard, became a leafy wood: His hands and shoulders into ridges went, The summit head still crowned the deep ascent: His bones a solid, rocky hardness gained: He thus immensely grown (as fate ordained), The stars, the heavens, and all the gods sustained.

As Perseus pursued his journey, after inflicting this just punishment upon his foe, across the territories of Lybia, he discovered on the coast of Ethiopia, the beautiful Andromeda, exposed to the fury of a sea-monster, which for some time had ravaged the country, and to appease which, the oracle of Jupiter Ammon had declared, {193} nothing could avail, excepting the exposure of the maiden to its anger. At this moment, when the monster was going to destroy her, Perseus saw, and was captivated with her beauty.

He offered Cepheus, her father, his aid in delivering her from danger, provided he would give the maiden to him in marriage, as a reward for his exertions.

"Chained to a rock she stood; young Perseus stayed His rapid flight, to view the beauteous maid. So sweet her form, so exquisitely fine, She seemed a statue by a hand divine, Had not the wind her waving tresses shewed And down her cheeks the melting sorrows flowed. Her faultless form the hero's bosom fires, The more he looks, the more he still admires. Th' admirer almost had forgot to fly, And swift descended, fluttering, from on high."

OVID.

This princess had been promised in marriage to Phineus, her uncle, when Neptune sent a sea-monster to ravage the country, because Cassiope, her mother, had boasted herself fairer than Juno and the Nereides.

"In me the son of thundering Jove behold, Got in a kindly shower of fruitful gold, Medusa's snaky head is now my prey, And through the clouds I boldly wing my way. {194} If such desert be worthy of esteem, And, if your daughter I from death redeem. Shall she be mine? Shall it not then be thought, A bride, so lovely, was too cheaply bought? For her, my arms, I willingly employ, If I may beauties, which I save, enjoy."

OVID.

Cepheus consented to bestow his daughter upon Perseus, and immediately the hero raised himself in the air, flew towards the monster, as it advanced to devour Andromeda, and plunging his dagger in his right shoulder, destroyed it. This happy event was attended with great rejoicings, and the nuptials of Andromeda with Perseus, soon followed.

The universal joy, was, however, quickly interrupted: for Phineus, dissatisfied with thus losing his promised bride, entered the palace with a number of armed men, and attempted to carry her off. In vain did the father and mother of Andromeda interfere.

"Chief in the riot, Phineus first appeared, The rash ringleader of this boisterous herd, And brandishing his brazen pointed lance, 'Behold,' he said, 'an injured man advance,' Stung with resentment for his ravished wife, Nor shall thy wings O Perseus, save thy life; Nor Jove himself, tho' we've been often told He got thee in the form of tempting gold. His lance was aimed, when Cepheus ran and said; 'Hold, brother, hold, what brutal rage has made Your frantic mind so black a crime conceive? Are these the thanks that you to Perseus give? This the reward that to his worth you pay, Whose timely valour saved Andromeda? Nor was it he, if you would reason right, That forced her from you, but the jealous spite Of envious Nereids, and Jove's high degree, And that devouring monster of the sea, That, ready with his jaws wide gaping stood, To eat my child, the fairest of my blood. You lost her then when she seemed past relief, And wish'd, perhaps, her death, to ease your grief With my afflictions; not content to view Andromeda in chains, unhelped by you, Her spouse and uncle, will you grieve that he Exposed his life, the dying maid to free? And shall you claim his merit? Had you thought Her charms so great, you should have bravely sought, That blessing on the rocks where fixed she lay; But now let Perseus bear his prize away. By service gained, by promised faith possessed; To him I owe it, that my age is blest Still with a child: nor think that I prefer Perseus to thee, but to the loss of her."

OVID.

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