Part 6 (1/2)
”They scarce had spoke, when, fair and soft, The roof began to mount aloft; Aloft rose every beam and rafter; The heavy wall climbed slowly after.
The chimney widened and grew higher, Became a steeple with a spire.
The kettle to the top was hoist.
And there stood fastened to a joist, But with the upside down, to show Its inclination for below; In vain, for a superior force, Applied at bottom, stops its course; Doomed ever in suspense to dwell, 'Tis now no kettle, but a bell.
A wooden jack, which had almost Lost by disuse the art to roast, A sudden alteration feels Increased by new intestine wheels; And, what exalts the wonder more.
The number made the motion slower; The flier, though't had leaden feet, Turned round so quick you scarce could see't; But slackened by some secret power, Now hardly moves an inch an hour.
The jack and chimney, near allied, Had never left each other's side: The chimney to a steeple grown, The jack would not be left alone; But up against the steeple reared, Became a clock, and still adhered; And still its love to household cares By a shrill voice at noon declares, Warning the cook-maid not to burn That roast meat which it cannot turn; The groaning chair began to crawl, Like a huge snail, along the wall; There stuck aloft in public view, And with small change, a pulpit grew.
A bedstead of the antique mode, Compact of timber many a load, Such as our ancestors did use, Was metamorphosed into pews, Which still their ancient nature keep By lodging folks disposed to sleep.”
CHAPTER VII
PROSERPINE--GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA
When Jupiter and his brothers had defeated the t.i.tans and banished them to Tartarus, a new enemy rose up against the G.o.ds. They were the giants Typhon, Briareus, Enceladus, and others. Some of them had a hundred arms, others breathed out fire. They were finally subdued and buried alive under Mount Aetna, where they still sometimes struggle to get loose, and shake the whole island with earthquakes. Their breath comes up through the mountain, and is what men call the eruption of the volcano.
The fall of these monsters shook the earth, so that Pluto was alarmed, and feared that his kingdom would be laid open to the light of day. Under this apprehension, he mounted his chariot, drawn by black horses, and took a circuit of inspection to satisfy himself of the extent of the damage. While he was thus engaged, Venus, who was sitting on Mount Eryx playing with her boy Cupid, espied him, and said, ”My son, take your darts with which you conquer all, even Jove himself, and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of Tartarus. Why should he alone escape? Seize the opportunity to extend your empire and mine. Do you not see that even in heaven some despise our power?
Minerva the wise, and Diana the huntress, defy us; and there is that daughter of Ceres, who threatens to follow their example. Now do you, if you have any regard for your own interest or mine, join these two in one.” The boy unbound his quiver, and selected his sharpest and truest arrow; then straining the bow against his knee, he attached the string, and, having made ready, shot the arrow with its barbed point right into the heart of Pluto.
In the vale of Enna there is a lake embowered in woods, which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and Spring reigns perpetual. Here Proserpine was playing with her companions, gathering lilies and violets, and filling her basket and her ap.r.o.n with them, when Pluto saw her, loved her, and carried her off. She screamed for help to her mother and companions; and when in her fright she dropped the corners of her ap.r.o.n and let the flowers fall, childlike she felt the loss of them as an addition to her grief.
The ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them each by name, and throwing loose over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins.
When he reached the River Cyane, and it opposed his pa.s.sage, he struck the river-bank with his trident, and the earth opened and gave him a pa.s.sage to Tartarus.
Ceres sought her daughter all the world over. Bright-haired Aurora, when she came forth in the morning, and Hesperus when he led out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in the search. But it was all unavailing. At length, weary and sad, she sat down upon a stone, and continued sitting nine days and nights, in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and falling showers. It was where now stands the city of Eleusis, then the home of an old man named Celeus. He was out in the field, gathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for his fire. His little girl was driving home their two goats, and as she pa.s.sed the G.o.ddess, who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said to her, ”Mother,”--and the name was sweet to the ears of Ceres,-- ”why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?” The old man also stopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her to come into his cottage, such as it was. She declined, and he urged her. ”Go in peace,” she replied, ”and be happy in your daughter; I have lost mine.” As she spoke, tears--or something like tears, for the G.o.ds never weep--fell down her cheeks upon her bosom. The compa.s.sionate old man and his child wept with her. Then said he, ”Come with us, and despise not our humble roof; so may your daughter be restored to you in safety.” ”Lead on,” said she, ”I cannot resist that appeal!” So she rose from the stone and went with them. As they walked he told her that his only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish, and sleepless. She stooped and gathered some poppies. As they entered the cottage, they found all in great distress, for the boy seemed past hope of recovery.
Metanira, his mother, received her kindly, and the G.o.ddess stooped and kissed the lips of the sick child. Instantly the paleness left his face, and healthy vigor returned to his body. The whole family were delighted--that is, the father, mother, and little girl, for they were all; they had no servants. They spread the table, and put upon it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. While they ate, Ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. When night came and all was still, she arose, and taking the sleeping boy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. His mother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with a cry and s.n.a.t.c.hed the child from the fire. Then Ceres a.s.sumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all around. While they were overcome with astonishment, she said, ”Mother, you have been cruel in your fondness to your son. I would have made him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt.
Nevertheless, he shall be great and useful. He shall teach men the use of the plough, and the rewards which labor can win from the cultivated soil.” So saying, she wrapped a cloud about her, and mounting her chariot rode away.
Ceres continued her search for her daughter, pa.s.sing from land to land, and across seas and rivers, till at length she returned to Sicily, whence she at first set out, and stood by the banks of the River Cyane, where Pluto made himself a pa.s.sage with his prize to his own dominions. The river nymph would have told the G.o.ddess all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of Pluto; so she only ventured to take up the girdle which Proserpine had dropped in her flight, and waft it to the feet of the mother. Ceres, seeing this, was no longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the cause, and laid the blame on the innocent land. ”Ungrateful soil,”
said she, ”which I have endowed with fertility and clothed with herbage and nouris.h.i.+ng grain, no more shall you enjoy my favors.”
Then the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the seed failed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too much rain; the birds stole the seeds--thistles and brambles were the only growth. Seeing this, the fountain Arethusa interceded for the land. ”G.o.ddess,” said she, ”blame not the land; it opened unwillingly to yield a pa.s.sage to your daughter. I can tell you of her fate, for I have seen her. This is not my native country; I came hither from Elis. I was a woodland nymph, and delighted in the chase. They praised my beauty, but I cared nothing for it, and rather boasted of my hunting exploits. One day I was returning from the wood, heated with exercise, when I came to a stream silently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on the bottom. The willows shaded it, and the gra.s.sy bank sloped down to the water's edge. I approached, I touched the water with my foot.
I stepped in knee-deep, and not content with that, I laid my garments on the willows and went in. While I sported in the water, I heard an indistinct murmur coming up as out of the depths of the stream: and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. The voice said, 'Why do you fly, Arethusa? I am Alpheus, the G.o.d of this stream.' I ran, he pursued; he was not more swift than I, but he was stronger, and gained upon me, as my strength failed. At last, exhausted, I cried for help to Diana. 'Help me, G.o.ddess! help your votary!' The G.o.ddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in a thick cloud. The river G.o.d looked now this way and now that, and twice came close to me, but could not find me. 'Arethusa! Arethusa!' he cried. Oh, how I trembled,--like a lamb that hears the wolf growling outside the fold. A cold sweat came over me, my hair flowed down in streams; where my foot stood there was a pool. In short, in less time than it takes to tell it I became a fountain.
But in this form Alpheus knew me and attempted to mingle his stream with mine. Diana cleft the ground, and I, endeavoring to escape him, plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of the earth came out here in Sicily. While I pa.s.sed through the lower parts of the earth, I saw your Proserpine. She was sad, but no longer showing alarm in her countenance. Her look was such as became a queen--the queen of Erebus; the powerful bride of the monarch of the realms of the dead.”
When Ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one stupefied; then turned her chariot towards heaven, and hastened to present herself before the throne of Jove. She told the story of her bereavement, and implored Jupiter to interfere to procure the rest.i.tution of her daughter. Jupiter consented on one condition, namely, that Proserpine should not during her stay in the lower world have taken any food; otherwise, the Fates forbade her release. Accordingly, Mercury was sent, accompanied by Spring, to demand Proserpine of Pluto. The wily monarch consented; but, alas!
the maiden had taken a pomegranate which Pluto offered her, and had sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. This was enough to prevent her complete release; but a compromise was made, by which she was to pa.s.s half the time with her mother, and the rest with her husband Pluto.
Ceres allowed herself to be pacified with this arrangement, and restored the earth to her favor. Now she remembered Celeus and his family, and her promise to his infant son Triptolemus. When the boy grew up, she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sow the seed. She took him in her chariot, drawn by winged dragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting to mankind valuable grains, and the knowledge of agriculture. After his return, Triptolemus built a magnificent temple to Ceres in Eleusis, and established the wors.h.i.+p of the G.o.ddess, under the name of the Eleusinian mysteries, which, in the splendor and solemnity of their observance, surpa.s.sed all other religious celebrations among the Greeks.
There can be little doubt of this story of Ceres and Proserpine being an allegory. Proserpine signifies the seed-corn which when cast into the ground lies there concealed--that is, she is carried off by the G.o.d of the underworld. It reappears--that is, Proserpine is restored to her mother. Spring leads her back to the light of day.
Milton alludes to the story of Proserpine in ”Paradise Lost,” Book IV.:
”. . . Not that fair field Of Enna where Proserpine gathering flowers, Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain To seek her through the world,-- ... might with this Paradise Of Eden strive.”