CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTH.

"Priapus appeared to me in a dream and seemed to say—Know that Encolpius, whom you seek, has, by me, been led aboard your ship!" Tryphaena trembled violently, "You would think we had slept together," she cried, "for a bust of Neptune, which I saw in the gallery at Baiae, said to me, in my dream—You will find Giton aboard Lycas' ship!" "From which you can see that Epicurus was a man inspired," remarked Eumolpus; "he passed sentence upon mocking phantasms of that kind in a very witty manner.

Dreams that delude the mind with flitting shades By neither powers of air nor gods, are sent: Each makes his own! And when relaxed in sleep The members lie, the mind, without restraint Can flit, and re-enact by night, the deeds That occupied the day. The warrior fierce, Who cities shakes and towns destroys by fire Maneuvering armies sees, and javelins, And funerals of kings and bloody fields.

The cringing lawyer dreams of courts and trials, The miser hides his hoard, new treasures finds: The hunter's horn and hounds the forests wake, The shipwrecked sailor from his hulk is swept. Or, washed aboard, just misses perishing. Adultresses will bribe, and harlots write To lovers: dogs, in dreams their hare still course; And old wounds ache most poignantly in dreams!"

"Still, what's to prevent our searching the ship?" said Lycas, after he had expiated Tryphaena's dream, "so that we will not be guilty of neglecting the revelations of Providence?" "And who were the rascals who were being shaved last night by the light of the moon?" chimed in Hesus, unexpectedly, for that was the name of the fellow who had caught us at our furtive transformation in the night. "A rotten thing to do, I swear! From what I hear, it's unlawful for any living man aboard ship to shed hair or nails, unless the wind has kicked up a heavy sea."



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTH.

Lycas was greatly disturbed by this information, and flew into a rage. "So someone aboard my ship cut off his hair, did he?" he bawled, "and at dead of night, too! Bring the offenders aft on deck here, and step lively, so that I can tell whom to punish, from their heads, that the ship may be freed from the curse!" "I ordered it done," Eumolpus broke in, "and I didn't order it as an unlucky omen, either, seeing that I had to be aboard the same vessel: I did it because the scoundrels had long matted hair, I ordered the filth cleared off the wretches because I did not wish to even seem to make a prison out of your ship: besides, I did not want the seared scars of the letters to be hidden in the least, by the interference of the hair; as they ought to be in plain sight, for everyone to read, and at full length, too. In addition to their other misdemeanors, they blew in my money on a street-walker whom they kept in common; only last night I dragged them away from her, reeking with wine and perfumes, as they were, and they still stink of the remnants of my patrimony!" Thereupon, forty stripes were ordered for each of us, that the tutelary genius of the ship might be propitiated. And they were not long about it either. Eager to propitiate the tutelary genius with our wretched blood, the savage sailors rushed upon us with their rope's ends. For my part, I endured three lashes with Spartan fortitude, but at the very first blow, Giton set up such a howling that his all too familiar voice reached the ears of Tryphaena; nor was she the only one who was in a flutter, for, attracted by this familiar voice, all the maids rushed to where he was being flogged. Giton had already moderated the ardor of the sailors by his wonderful beauty, he appealed to his torturers without uttering a word. "It's Giton! It's Giton!" the maids all screamed in unison. "Hold your hands, you brutes; help, Madame, it's Giton!" Tryphaena turned willing ears, she had recognized that voice herself, and flew to the boy. Lycas, who knew me as well as if he had heard my voice, now ran up; he glanced at neither face nor hands, but directed his eyes towards parts lower down; courteously he shook hands with them, "How do you do, Encolpius," he said. Let no one be surprised at Ulysses' nurse discovering, after twenty years, the scar that established his identity, since this man, so keenly observant, had, in spite of the most skillful disguise of every feature and the obliteration of every identifying mark upon my body, so surely hit upon the sole means of identifying his fugitive! Deceived by our appearance, Tryphaena wept bitterly, believing that the marks upon our foreheads were, in truth, the brands of prisoners: she asked us gently, into what slave's prison we had fallen in our wanderings, and whose cruel hands had inflicted this punishment. Still, fugitives whose members had gotten them into trouble certainly deserved some punishment.



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTH.

In a towering passion, Lycas leaped forward, "Oh you silly woman," he shouted, "as if those scars were made by the letters on the branding-iron! If only they had really blotched up their foreheads with those inscriptions, it would be some satisfaction to us, at least; but as it is, we are being imposed upon by an actor's tricks, and hoaxed by a fake inscription!" Tryphaena was disposed to mercy, as all was not lost for her pleasures, but Lycas remembered the seduction of his wife and the insults to which he had been subjected in the portico of the temple of Hercules: "Tryphaena," he gritted out, his face convulsed with savage passion, "you are aware, I believe, that the immortal gods have a hand in human affairs: what did they do but lead these scoundrels aboard this ship in ignorance of the owner and then warn each of us alike, by a coincidence of dreams, of what they had done? Can you then see how it would be possible to let off those whom a god has, himself, delivered up to punishment? I am not a cruel man; what moves me is this: I am afraid I shall have to endure myself whatever I remit to them!" At this superstitious plea Tryphaena veered around; denying that she would plead for quarter, she was even anxious to help along the fulfillment of this retribution, so entirely just: she had herself suffered an insult no less poignant than had Lycas, for her chastity had been called in question before a crowd.

Primeval Fear created Gods on earth when from the sky The lightning-flashes rent with flame the ramparts of the world, And smitten Athos blazed! Then, Phoebus, sinking to the earth, His course complete, and waning Luna, offerings received. The changing seasons of the year the superstition spread Throughout the world; and Ignorance and Awe, the toiling boor, To Ceres, from his harvest, the first fruits compelled to yield And Bacchus with the fruitful vine to crown. Then Pales came Into her own, the shepherd's gains to share. Beneath the waves Of every sea swims Neptune. Pallas guards the shops, And those impelled by Avarice or Guilt, create new Gods!

(Lycas, as he perceived that Tryphaena was as eager as himself for revenge, gave orders for our punishment to be renewed and made more drastic, whereupon Eumolpus endeavored to appease him as follows,)



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTH.

("Lycas," said he, "these unfortunates upon whom you intend to wreak your vengeance, implore your compassion and) have chosen me for this task. I believe that I am a man, by no means unknown, and they desire that, somehow, I will effect a reconciliation between them and their former friends. Surely you do not imagine that these young men fell into such a snare by accident, when the very first thing that concerns every prospective passenger is the name of the captain to whom he intrusts his safety! Be reasonable, then; forego your revenge and permit free men to proceed to their destination without injury. When penitence manages to lead their fugitives back, harsh and implacable masters restrain their cruelty, and we are merciful to enemies who have surrendered. What could you ask, or wish for, more? These well-born and respectable young men be suppliant before your eyes and, what ought to move you more strongly still, were once bound to you by the ties of friendship. If they had embezzled your money or repaid your faith in them with treachery, by Hercules, you have ample satisfaction from the punishment already inflicted! Look! Can you read slavery on their foreheads, and see upon the faces of free men the brand-marks of a punishment which was self-inflicted!" Lycas broke in upon this plea for mercy, "Don't try to confuse the issue," he said, "let every detail have its proper attention and first of all, why did they strip all the hair off their heads, if they came of their own free will? A man meditates deceit, not satisfaction, when he changes his features! Then again, if they sought reconciliation through a mediator, why did you do your best to conceal them while employed in their behalf? It is easily seen that the scoundrels fell into the toils by chance and that you are seeking some device by which you could sidestep the effects of our resentment. And be careful that you do not spoil your case by over-confidence when you attempt to sow prejudice among us by calling them well-born and respectable! What should the injured parties do when the guilty run into their own punishment? And inasmuch as they were our friends, by that, they deserve more drastic punishment still, for whoever commits an assault upon a stranger, is termed a robber; but whoever assaults a friend, is little better than a parricide!" "I am well aware," Eumolpus replied, to rebut this damning harangue, "that nothing can look blacker against these poor young men than their cutting off their hair at night. On this evidence, they would seem to have come aboard by accident, not voluntarily. Oh how I wish that the explanation could come to your ears just as candidly as the thing itself happened! They wanted to relieve their heads of that annoying and useless weight before they came aboard, but the unexpected springing up of the wind prevented the carrying out of their wishes, and they did not imagine that it mattered where they began what they had decided to do, because they were unacquainted with either the omens or the law of seafaring men." "But why should they shave themselves like suppliants?" demanded Lycas, "unless, of course, they expected to arouse more sympathy as bald-pates. What's the use of seeking information through a third person, anyway? You scoundrel, what have you to say for yourself? What salamander singed off your eyebrows? You poisoner, what god did you vow your hair to? Answer!"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTH.

I was stricken dumb, and trembled from fear of punishment, nor could I find anything to say, out of countenance as I was and hideous, for to the disgrace of a shaven poll was added an equal baldness in the matter of eyebrows; the case against me was only too plain, there was not a thing to be said or done! Finally, a damp sponge was passed over my tear-wet face, and thereupon, the smut dissolved and spread over my whole countenance, blotting out every feature in a sooty cloud. Anger turned into loathing. Swearing that he would permit no one to humiliate well-born young men contrary to right and law, Eumolpus checked the threats of the savage persecutors by word and by deed. His hired servant backed him up in his protest, as did first one and then another of the feeblest of the seasick passengers, whose participation served rather to inflame the disagreement than to be of help to us. For myself I asked no quarter, but I shook my fists in Tryphaena's face, and told her in a loud voice that unless she stopped hurting Giton, I would use every ounce of my strength against her, reprobate woman that she was, the only person aboard the ship who deserved a flogging. Lycas was furiously angry at my hardihood, nor was he less enraged at my abandoning my own cause, to take up that of another, in so wholehearted a manner. Inflamed as she was by this affront, Tryphaena was as furious as he, so the whole ship's company was divided into two factions. On our side, the hired barber armed himself with a razor and served out the others to us; on their side, Tryphaena's retainers prepared to battle with their bare fists, nor was the scolding of female warriors unheard in the battle-line. The pilot was neutral, but he declared that unless this madness, stirred up by the lechery of a couple of vagabonds, died down, he would let go the helm! The fury of the combatants continued to rage none the less fiercely, nevertheless, they fighting for revenge, we for life. Many fell on each side, though none were mortally wounded, and more, bleeding from wounds, retreated, as from a real battle, but the fury of neither side abated. At last the gallant Giton turned the menacing razor against his own virile parts, and threatened to cut away the cause of so many misfortunes. This was too much for Tryphaena; she prevented the perpetration of so horrid a crime by the out and out promise of quarter. Time and time again, I lifted the barber's blade to my throat, but I had no more intention of killing myself than had Giton of doing what he threatened, but he acted out the tragic part more realistically than I, as it was, because he knew that he held in his hand the same razor with which he had already cut his throat. The lines still stood at the ready, and it was plain to be seen that this would be no everyday affair, when the pilot, with difficulty, prevailed upon Tryphaena to undertake the office of herald, and propose a truce; so, when pledges of good faith had been given and received, in keeping with the ancient precedent she snatched an olive-branch from the ship's figurehead and, holding it out, advanced boldly to parley.

"What fury," she exclaims, "turns peace to war? What evil deed Was by these hands committed? Trojan hero there is none Absconding in this ship with bride of Atreus' cuckold seed Nor crazed Medea, stained by life's blood of her father's son! But passion scorned, becomes a power: alas! who courts his end By drawing sword amidst these waves? Why die before our time? Strive not with angry seas to vie and to their fury lend Your rage by piling waves upon its savage floods sublime !"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND NINTH.

The woman poured out this rhapsody in a loud excited voice, the battle-line wavered for an instant, then all hands were recalled to peace and terminated the war. Eumolpus, our commander, took advantage of the psychological moment of their repentance and, after administering a stinging rebuke to Lycas, signed a treaty of peace which was drawn up as follows: "It is hereby solemnly agreed on your part, Tryphaena, that you do forego complaint of any wrong done you by Giton; that you do not bring up anything that has taken place prior to this date, that you do not seek to revenge anything that has taken place prior to this date, that you do not take steps to follow it up in any other manner whatsoever; that you do not command the boy to perform anything to him repugnant; that you do neither embrace nor kiss the said Giton; that you do not enfold said Giton in the sexual embrace, except under immediate forfeiture of one hundred denarii. Item, it is hereby agreed on your part, Lycas, that you do refrain from annoying Encolpius with abusive word or reproachful look; that you do not seek to ascertain where he sleep at night; or, if you do so seek, that you forfeit two hundred denarii immediately for each and every such offense." The treaty was signed upon these terms, and we laid down our arms. It seemed well to wipe out the past with kisses, after we had taken oath, for fear any vestige of rancor should persist in our minds. Factious hatreds died out amidst universal good-fellowship, and a banquet, served on the field of battle, crowned our reconciliation with joviality. The whole ship resounded with song and, as a sudden calm had caused her to lose headway, one tried to harpoon the leaping fish, another hauled in the struggling catch on baited hooks. Then some sea-birds alighted upon the yard-arms and a skillful fowler touched them with his jointed rods: they were brought down to our hands, stuck fast to the limed segments. The breeze caught up the down, but the wing and tail feathers twisted spirally as they fell into the sea-foam. Lycas was already beginning to be on good terms with me, and Tryphaena had just sprinkled Giton with the last drops in her cup, when Eumolpus, who was himself almost drunk, was seized with the notion of satirizing bald pates and branded rascals, but when he had exhausted his chilly wit, he returned at last to his poetry and recited this little elegy upon hair:

"Gone are those locks that to thy beauty lent such lustrous charm And blighted are the locks of Spring by bitter Winter's sway; Thy naked temples now in baldness mourn their vanished form, And glistens now that poor bare crown, its hair all worn away Oh! Faithless inconsistency! The gods must first resume The charms that first they granted youth, that it might lovelier bloom! Poor wretch, but late thy locks did brighter glister Than those of great Apollo or his sister! Now, smoother is thy crown than polished grasses Or rounded mushrooms when a shower passes! In fear thou fliest the laughter-loving lasses. That thou may'st know that Death is on his way, Know that thy head is partly dead this day!"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TENTH.

It is my opinion that he intended favoring us with more of the same kind of stuff, sillier than the last, but Tryphaena's maid led Giton away below and fitted the lad out in her mistress' false curls; then producing some eyebrows from a vanity box, she skillfully traced out the lines of the lost features and restored him to his proper comeliness. Recognizing the real Giton, Tryphaena was moved to tears, and then for the first time she gave the boy a real love-kiss. I was overjoyed, now that the lad was restored to his own handsome self, but I hid my own face all the more assiduously, realizing that I was disfigured by no ordinary hideousness since not even Lycas would bestow a word upon me. The maid rescued me from this misfortune finally, however, and calling me aside, she decked me out with a head of hair which was none the less becoming; my face shone more radiantly still, as a matter of fact, for my curls were golden! But in a little while, Eumolpus, mouthpiece of the distressed and author of the present good understanding, fearing that the general good humor might flag for lack of amusement, began to indulge in sneers at the fickleness of women: how easily they fell in love; how readily they forgot even their own sons! No woman could be so chaste but that she could be roused to madness by a chance passion! Nor had he need to quote from old tragedies, or to have recourse to names, notorious for centuries; on the contrary, if we cared to hear it, he would relate an incident which had occurred within his own memory, whereupon, as we all turned our faces towards him and gave him our attention, he began as follows:



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVENTH.

"There was a certain married lady at Ephesus, once upon a time, so noted for her chastity that she even drew women from the neighboring states to come to gaze upon her! When she carried out her husband she was by no means content to comply with the conventional custom and follow the funeral cortege with her hair down, beating her naked breast in sight of the onlookers! She followed the corpse, even into the tomb; and when the body had been placed in the vault, in accordance with the Greek custom, she began to stand vigil over it, weeping day and night! Neither parents nor relations could divert her from punishing herself in this manner and from bringing on death by starvation. The magistrates, the last resort, were rebuffed and went away, and the lady, mourned by all as an unusual example, dragged through the fifth day without nourishment. A most faithful maid was in attendance upon the poor woman; she either wept in company with the afflicted one or replenished the lamp which was placed in the vault, as the occasion required. Throughout the whole city there was but one opinion, men of every calling agreed that here shone the one solitary example of chastity and of love! In the meantime the governor of the province had ordered some robbers crucified near the little vault in which the lady was bewailing her recent loss. On the following night, a soldier who was standing guard over the crosses for fear someone might drag down one of the bodies for burial, saw a light shining brightly among the tombs, and heard the sobs of someone grieving. A weakness common to mankind made him curious to know who was there and what was going on, so he descended into the tomb and, catching sight of a most beautiful woman, he stood still, afraid at first that it was some apparition or spirit from the infernal regions; but he finally comprehended the true state of affairs as his eye took in the corpse lying there, and as he noted the tears and the face lacerated by the finger-nails, he understood that the lady was unable to endure the loss of the dear departed. He then brought his own scanty ration into the vault and exhorted the sobbing mourner not to persevere in useless grief, or rend her bosom with unavailing sobs; the same end awaited us all, the same last resting place: and other platitudes by which anguished minds are recalled to sanity. But oblivious to sympathy, she beat and lacerated her bosom more vehemently than before and, tearing out her hair, she strewed it upon the breast of the corpse. Notwithstanding this, the soldier would not leave off, but persisted in exhorting the unfortunate lady to eat, until the maid, seduced by the smell of the wine, I suppose, was herself overcome and stretched out her hand to receive the bounty of their host. Refreshed by food and drink, she then began to attack the obstinacy of her mistress. 'What good will it do you to die of hunger?' she asked, 'or to bury yourself alive'? Or to surrender an uncondemned spirit before the fates demand it? 'Think you the ashes or sepultured dead can feel aught of thy woe! Would you recall the dead from the reluctant fates? Why not shake off this womanish weakness and enjoy the blessings of light while you can? The very corpse lying there ought to convince you that your duty is to live!' When pressed to eat or to live, no one listens unwillingly, and the lady, thirsty after an abstinence of several days, finally permitted her obstinacy to be overcome; nor did she take her fill of nourishment with less avidity than had the maid who had surrendered first."



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWELFTH.

"But to make a long story short, you know the temptations that beset a full stomach: the soldier laid siege to her virtue with the selfsame blandishments by which he had persuaded her that she ought to live. Nor, to her modest eye, did the young man seem uncouth or wanting in address. The maid pled in his behalf and kept repeating:

Why will you fight with a passion that to you is pleasure, Remembering not in whose lands you are taking your leisure?

"But why should I keep you longer in suspense? The lady observed the same abstinence when it came to this part of her body, and the victorious soldier won both of his objectives; so they lay together, not only that night, in which they pledged their vows, but also the next, and even the third, shutting the doors of the vault, of course, so that anyone, acquaintance or stranger, coming to the tomb, would be convinced that this most virtuous of wives had expired upon the body of her husband. As for the soldier, so delighted was he with the beauty of his mistress and the secrecy of the intrigue, that he purchased all the delicacies his pay permitted and smuggled them into the vault as soon as darkness fell. Meanwhile, the parents of one of the crucified criminals, observing the laxness of the watch, dragged the hanging corpse down at night and performed the last rite. The soldier was hoodwinked while absent from his post of duty, and when on the following day he caught sight of one of the crosses without its corpse, he was in terror of punishment and explained to the lady what had taken place: He would await no sentence of court-martial, but would punish his neglect of duty with his own sword! Let her prepare a place for one about to die, let that fatal vault serve both the lover and the husband! 'Not that,' cried out the lady, no less merciful than chaste, 'the gods forbid that I should look at the same time upon the corpses of the two men dearest to me; I would rather hang the dead than slay the living!' So saying, she gave orders for the body of her husband to be lifted out of the coffin and fastened upon the vacant cross! The soldier availed himself of the expedient suggested by this very ingenious lady and next day everyone wondered how a dead man had found his way to the cross!"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEENTH.

The sailors received this tale with roars of laughter, and Tryphaena blushed not a little and laid her face amorously upon Giton's neck. But Lycas did not laugh; "If that governor had been a just man," said he, shaking his head angrily, "he would have ordered the husband's body taken down and carried back into the vault, and crucified the woman." No doubt the memory of Hedyle haunted his mind, and the looting of his ship in that wanton excursion. But the terms of the treaty permitted the harboring of no old grudges and the joy which filled our hearts left no room for anger. Tryphaena was lying in Giton's lap by this time, covering his bosom with kisses one minute and rearranging the curls upon his shaven head the next. Uneasy and chagrined at this new league, I took neither food nor drink but looked askance at them both, with grim eyes. Every kiss was a wound to me, every artful blandishment which the wanton woman employed, and I could not make up my mind as to whether I was more angered at the boy for having supplanted me with my mistress, or at my mistress for debauching the boy: both were hateful to my sight, and more galling than my late servitude. And to make the matter all the more aggravating, Tryphaena would not even greet me as an acquaintance, whom she had formerly received as a lover, while Giton did not think me worthy of a "Here's-to-you" in ordinary civility, nor even speak to me in the course of the common conversation; I suppose he was afraid of reopening a tender scar at the moment when a return to her good graces had commenced to draw it together. Tears of vexation dropped upon my breast and the groan I smothered in a sigh nearly wracked my soul.

The vulture tearing; at the liver's deep and vital parts, That wracks our breasts and rends our very heartstrings Is not that bird the charming poet sings with all his arts; 'T'is jealousy or hate that human hearts stings.

(In spite of my ill-humor, Lycas saw how well my golden curls became me and, becoming enamoured anew, began winking his wanton eyes at me and) sought admission to my good graces upon a footing of pleasure, nor did he put on the arrogance of a master, but spoke as a friend asking a favor; (long and ardently he tried to gain his ends, but all in vain, till at last, meeting with a decisive repulse, his passion turned to fury and he tried to carry the place by storm; but Tryphaena came in unexpectedly and caught him in his wanton attempt, whereupon he was greatly upset and hastily adjusted his clothing and bolted out of the cabin. Tryphaena was fired with lust at this sight, "What was Lycas up to?" she demanded. "What was he after in that ardent assault?" She compelled me to explain, burned still more hotly at what she heard, and, recalling memories of our past familiarities, she desired me to renew our old amour, but I was worn out with so much venery and slighted her advances. She was burning up with desire by this time, and threw her arms around me in a frenzied embrace, hugging me so tightly that I uttered an involuntary cry of pain. One of her maids rushed in at this and, thinking that I was attempting to force from her mistress the very favor which I had refused her, she sprang at us and tore us apart. Thoroughly enraged at the disappointment of her lecherous passion, Tryphaena upbraided me violently, and with many threats she hurried out to find Lycas for the purpose of exasperating him further against me and of joining forces with him to be revenged upon me. Now you must know that I had formerly held a very high place in this waiting-maid's esteem, while I was prosecuting my intrigue with her mistress, and for that reason she took it very hard when she surprised me with Tryphaena, and sobbed very bitterly. I pressed her earnestly to tell me the reason for her sobs) {and after pretending to be reluctant she broke out:} "You will think no more of her than of a common prostitute if you have a drop of decent blood in your veins! You will not resort to that female catamite, if you are a man!" {This disturbed my mind but} what exercised me most was the fear that Eumolpus would find out what was going on and, being a very sarcastic individual, might revenge my supposed injury in some poetic lampoon, (in which event his ardent zeal would without doubt expose me to ridicule, and I greatly dreaded that. But while I was debating with myself as to the best means of preventing him from getting at the facts, who should suddenly come in but the man himself; and he was not uninformed as to what had taken place, for Tryphaena had related all the particulars to Giton and had tried to indemnify herself for my repulse, at the expense of my little friend. Eumolpus was furiously angry because of all this, and all the more so as lascivious advances were in open violation of the treaty which had been signed. The minute the old fellow laid eyes upon me, he began bewailing my lot and ordered me to tell him exactly what had happened. As he was already well informed, I told him frankly of Lycas' lecherous attempt and of Tryphaena's wanton assault. When he had heard all the facts,) Eumolpus swore roundly (that he would certainly avenge us, as the Gods were just and would not suffer so many villainies to go unpunished.)



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEENTH.

We were still discussing this and other matters when the sea grew rough, and clouds, gathering from every quarter, obscured with darkness the light of day. The panic-stricken sailors ran to their stations and took in sail before the squall was upon them, but the gale did not drive the waves in any one direction and the helmsman lost his bearings and did not know what course to steer. At one moment the wind would set towards Sicily, but the next, the North Wind, prevailing on the Italian coast, would drive the unlucky vessel hither and yon; and, what was more dangerous than all the rain-squalls, a pall of such black density blotted out the light that the helmsman could not even see as far forward as the bow. At last, as the savage fury of the sea grew more malignant, the trembling Lycas stretched out his hands to me imploringly. "Save us from destruction, Encolpius," he shouted; "restore that sacred robe and holy rattle to the ship! Be merciful, for heaven's sake, just as you used to be!" He was still shouting when a windsquall swept him into the sea; the raging elements whirled him around and around in a terrible maelstrom and sucked him down. Tryphaena, on the other hand, was seized by her faithful servants, placed in a skiff, along with the greater part of her belongings, and saved from certain death. Embracing Giton, I wept aloud: "Did we deserve this from the gods," I cried, "to be united only in death? No! Malignant fortune grudges even that. Look! In an instant the waves will capsize the ship! Think! In an instant the sea will sever this lover's embrace! If you ever loved Encolpius truly, kiss him while yet you may and snatch this last delight from impending dissolution!" Even as I was speaking, Giton removed his garment and, creeping beneath my tunic, he stuck out his head to be kissed; then, fearing some more spiteful wave might separate us as we clung together, he passed his belt around us both. "If nothing else," he cried, "the sea will at least bear us longer, joined together, and if, in pity, it casts us up upon the same shore, some passerby may pile some stones over us, out of common human kindness, or the last rites will be performed by the drifting sand, in spite of the angry waves." I submit to this last bond and, as though I were laid out upon my death-bed, await an end no longer dreaded. Meanwhile, accomplishing the decrees of the Fates, the storm stripped the ship of all that was left; no mast, no helm, not a rope nor an oar remained on board her; she was only a derelict, heavy and water-logged, drifting before the waves. Some fishermen hastily put off in their little boats to salvage their booty, but, seeing men alive and ready to defend their property, they changed their predatory designs into offers of help.



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEENTH.

Just then, amid that clamor of voices we heard a peculiar noise, and from beneath the captain's cabin there came a bellowing as of some wild beast trying to get out. We then followed up the sound and discovered Eumolpus, sitting there scribbling verses upon an immense sheet of parchment! Astounded that he could find time to write poetry at death's very door, we hauled him out, in spite of his protests, and ordered him to return to his senses, but he flew into a rage at being interrupted; "Leave me alone until I finish this sentence," he bawled; "the poem labors to its birth." Ordering Giton to come to close quarters and help me drag the bellowing bard ashore, I laid hands upon the lunatic. When this job had at last been completed, we came, wet and wretched, to a fisherman's hut and refreshed ourselves somewhat with stores from the wreck, spoiled though they were by salt water, and passed a night that was almost interminable. As we were holding a council, next day, to determine to what part of the country we had best proceed, I suddenly caught sight of a human body, turning around in a gentle eddy and floating towards the shore. Stricken with melancholy, I stood still and began to brood, with wet eyes, upon the treachery of the sea. "And perhaps," said I, "a wife, safe in some far-away country of the earth, awaits this man, or a son who little dreams of storms or wrecks; or perhaps he left behind a father, whom he kissed good-by at parting! Such is the end of mortal's plans, such is the outcome of great ambitions! See how man rides the waves!" Until now, I had been sorrowing for a mere stranger, but a wave turned the face, which had undergone no change, towards the shore, and I recognized Lycas; so evil-tempered and so unrelenting but a short time before, now cast up almost at my feet! I could no longer restrain the tears, at this; I beat my breast again and yet again, with my hands. "Where is your evil temper now?" I cried. "Where is your unbridled passion? You be there, a prey to fish and wild beasts, you who boasted but a little while ago of the strength of your command. Now you have not a single plank left of your great ship! Go on, mortals; set your hearts upon the fulfillment of great ambitions: Go on, schemers, and in your wills control for a thousand years the disposal of the wealth you got by fraud! Only yesterday this man audited the accounts of his family estate, yea, even reckoned the day he would arrive in his native land and settled it in his mind! Gods and goddesses, how far he lies from his appointed destination! But the waves of the sea are not alone in thus keeping faith with mortal men: The warrior's weapons fail him; the citizen is buried beneath the ruins of his own penates, when engaged in paying his vows to the gods; another falls from his chariot and dashes out his ardent spirit; the glutton chokes at dinner; the niggard starves from abstinence. Give the dice a fair throw and you will find shipwreck everywhere! Ah, but one overwhelmed by the waves obtains no burial! As though it matters in what manner the body, once it is dead, is consumed: by fire, by flood, by time! Do what you will, these all achieve the same end. Ah, but the beasts will mangle the body! As though fire would deal with it any more gently; when we are angry with our slaves that is the punishment which we consider the most severe. What folly it is, then, to do everything we can to prevent the grave from leaving any part of us behind {when the Fates will look out for us, even against our wills."} (After these reflections we made ready to pay the last rites to the corpse,) and Lycas was burned upon a funeral pyre raised by the hands of enemies, while Eumolpus, fixing his eyes upon the far distance to gain inspiration, composed an epitaph for the dead man:

HIS FATE WAS UNAVOIDABLE

NO ROCK-HEWN TOMB NOR SCULPTURED MARBLE HIS,

HIS NOBLE CORPSE FIVE FEET OF EARTH RECEIVED,

HE RESTS IN PEACE BENEATH THIS HUMBLE MOUND.



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEENTH.

We set out upon our intended journey, after this last office had been wholeheartedly performed, and, in a little while, arrived, sweating, at the top of a mountain, from which we made out, at no great distance, a town, perched upon the summit of a lofty eminence. Wanderers as we were, we had no idea what town it could be, until we learned from a caretaker that it was Crotona, a very ancient city, and once the first in Italy. When we earnestly inquired, upon learning this, what men inhabited such historic ground, and the nature of the business in which they were principally engaged, now that their wealth had been dissipated by the oft recurring wars, "My friends," replied he, "if you are men of business, change your plans and seek out some other conservative road to a livelihood, but if you can play the part of men of great culture, always ready with a lie, you are on the straight road to riches: The study of literature is held in no estimation in that city, eloquence has no niche there, economy and decent standards of morality come into no reward of honor there; you must know that every man whom you will meet in that city belongs to one of two factions; they either 'take-in,' or else they are 'taken-in.' No one brings up children in that city, for the reason that no one who has heirs is invited to dinner or admitted to the games; such an one is deprived of all enjoyments and must lurk with the rabble. On the other hand, those who have never married a wife, or those who have no near relatives, attain to the very highest honors; in other words, they are the only ones who are considered soldierly, or the bravest of the brave, or even good. You will see a town which resembles the fields in time of pestilence," he continued, "in which there is nothing but carcasses to be torn at and carrion crows tearing at them."



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEENTH.

Eumolpus, who had a deeper insight, turned this state of affairs over in his mind and declared that he was not displeased with a prospect of that kind. I thought the old fellow was joking in the care-free way of poets, until he complained, "If I could only put up a better front! I mean that I wish my clothing was in better taste, that my jewelry was more expensive; all this would lend color to my deception: I would not carry this scrip, by Hercules, I would not I would lead you all to great riches!" For my part, I undertook to supply whatever my companion in robbery had need of, provided he would be satisfied with the garment, and with whatever spoils the villa of Lycurgus had yielded when we robbed it; as for money against present needs, the Mother of the Gods would see to that, out of regard to her own good name! "Well, what's to prevent our putting on an extravaganza?" demanded Eumolpus. "Make me the master if the business appeals to you." No one ventured to condemn a scheme by which he could lose nothing, and so, that the lie would be kept safe among us all, we swore a solemn oath, the words of which were dictated by Eumolpus, to endure fire, chains, flogging, death by the sword, and whatever else Eumolpus might demand of us, just like regular gladiators! After the oath had been taken, we paid our respects to our master with pretended servility, and were informed that Eumolpus had lost a son, a young man of great eloquence and promise, and that it was for this reason the poor old man had left his native land that he might not see the companions and clients of his son, nor even his tomb, which was the cause of his daily tears. To this misfortune a recent shipwreck had been added, in which he had lost upwards of two millions of sesterces; not that he minded the loss but, destitute of a train of servants he could not keep up his proper dignity! Furthermore, he had, invested in Africa, thirty millions of sesterces in estates and bonds; such a horde of his slaves was scattered over the fields of Numidia that he could have even sacked Carthage! We demanded that Eumolpus cough frequently, to further this scheme, that he have trouble with his stomach and find fault with all the food when in company, that he keep talking of gold and silver and estates, the incomes from which were not what they should be, and of the everlasting unproductiveness of the soil; that he cast up his accounts daily, that he revise the terms of his will monthly, and, for fear any detail should be lacking to make the farce complete, he was to use the wrong names whenever he wished to summon any of us, so that it would be plain to all that the master had in mind some who were not present. When everything had been thus provided for, we offered a prayer to the gods "that the matter might turn out well and happily," and took to the road. But Giton could not bear up under his unaccustomed load, and the hired servant Corax, a shirker of work, often put down his own load and cursed our haste, swearing that he would either throw his packs away or run away with his load. "What do you take me for, a beast of burden?" he grumbled, "or a scow for carrying stone? I hired out to do the work of a man, not that of a pack-horse, and I'm as free as you are, even if my father did leave me poor!" Not satisfied with swearing, he lifted up his leg from time to time and filled the road with an obscene noise and a filthy stench. Giton laughed at his impudence and imitated every explosion with his lips, {but Eumolpus relapsed into his usual vein, even in spite of this.}



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEENTH.

"Young men," said he, "many are they who have been seduced by poetry; for, the instant a man has composed a verse in feet, and has woven a more delicate meaning into it by means of circumlocutions, he straightway concludes that he has scaled Helicon! Take those who are worn out by the distressing detail of the legal profession, for example: they often seek sanctuary in the tranquillity of poetry, as a more sheltered haven, believing themselves able more easily to compose a poem than a rebuttal charged with scintillating epigrams! But a more highly cultivated mind loves not this conceited affectation, nor can it either conceive or bring forth, unless it has been steeped in the vast flood of literature. Every word that is what I would call 'low,' ought to be avoided, and phrases far removed from plebeian usage should be chosen. Let 'Ye rabble rout avaunt,' be your rule. In addition, care should be exercised in preventing the epigrams from standing out from the body of the speech; they should gleam with the brilliancy woven into the fabric. Homer is an example, and the lyric poets, and our Roman Virgil, and the exquisite propriety of Horace. Either the others did not discover the road that leads to poetry, or, having seen, they feared to tread it. Whoever attempts that mighty theme, the civil war, for instance, will sink under the load unless he is saturated with literature. Events, past and passing, ought not to be merely recorded in verse, the historian will deal with them far better; by means of circumlocutions and the intervention of the immortals, the free spirit, wracked by the search for epigrams having a mythological illusion, should plunge headlong and appear as the prophecy of a mind inspired rather than the attested faith of scrupulous exactitude in speech. This hasty composition may please you, even though it has not yet received its final polishing:"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEENTH.

"The conquering Roman now held the whole world in his sway,

The ocean, the land; where the sun shone by day or the moon

Gleamed by night: but unsated was he. And the seas

Were roiled by the weight of his deep-laden keels; if a bay

Lay hidden beyond, or a land which might yield yellow gold

'Twas held as a foe. While the struggle for treasure went on

The fates were preparing the horrors and scourges of war.

Amusements enjoyed by the vulgar no longer can charm

Nor pleasures worn threadbare by use of the plebeian mob.

The bronzes of Corinth are praised by the soldier at sea;

And glittering gems sought in earth, vie with purple of Tyre;

Numidia curses her here, there, the exquisite silks

Of China; Arabia's people have stripped their own fields.

Behold other woes and calamities outraging peace!

Wild beasts, in the forest are hunted, for gold; and remote

African hammon is covered by beaters, for fear

Some beast that slays men with his teeth shall escape, for by that

His value to men is enhanced! The vessels receive

Strange ravening monsters; the tiger behind gilded bars

And pacing his cage is transported to Rome, that his jaws

May drip with the life blood of men to the plaudits of men

Oh shame! To point out our impending destruction; the crime

Of Persia enacted anew; in his puberty's bloom

The man child is kidnapped; surrenders his powers to the knife,

Is forced to the calling of Venus; delayed and hedged round

The hurrying passage of life's finest years is held back

And Nature seeks Nature but finds herself not. Everywhere

These frail-limbed and mincing effeminates, flowing of locks,

Bedecked with an infinite number of garments of silk

Whose names ever change, the wantons and lechers to snare,

Are eagerly welcomed! From African soil now behold

The citron-wood tables; their well-burnished surface reflects

Our Tyrian purples and slaves by the horde, and whose spots

Resemble the gold that is cheaper than they and ensnare

Extravagance. Sterile and ignobly prized is the wood

But round it is gathered a company sodden with wine;

And soldiers of fortune whose weapons have rusted, devour

The spoils of the world. Art caters to appetite. Wrasse

From Sicily brought to their table, alive in his own Sea water.

The oysters from Lucrine's shore torn, at the feast

Are served to make famous the host; and the appetite, cloyed,

To tempt by extravagance. Phasis has now been despoiled

Of birds, its littoral silent, no sound there is heard

Save only the wind as it rustles among the last leaves.

Corruption no less vile is seen in the campus of Mars,

Our quirites are bribed; and for plunder and promise of gain

Their votes they will alter. The people is venal; corrupt

The Senate; support has its price! And the freedom and worth

Of age is decayed, scattered largesse now governs their power;

Corrupted by gold, even dignity lies in the dust.

Cato defeated and hooted by mobs, but the victor

Is sadder, ashamed to have taken the rods from a Cato:

In this lay the shame of the nation and character's downfall,

'Twas not the defeat of a man! No! The power and the glory

Of Rome were brought low; represented in him was the honor

Of sturdy Republican Rome. So, abandoned and wretched,

The city has purchased dishonor: has purchased herself!

Despoiled by herself, no avenger to wipe out the stigma

Twin maelstroms of debt and of usury suck down the commons.

No home with clear title, no citizen free from a mortgage,

But as some slow wasting disease all unheralded fastens

Its hold on the vitals, destroying the vigor of manhood,

So, fear of the evils impending, impels them to madness.

Despair turns to violence, luxury's ravages needs must

Repaired be by bloodshed, for indigence safely can venture.

Can art or sane reason rouse wallowing Rome from the offal

And break the voluptuous slumber in which she is sunken?

Or must it be fury and war and the blood-lust of daggers?"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTIETH.

"Three chieftains did fortune bring forth, whom the fury of battles

Destroyed; and interred, each one under a mountain of weapons;

The Parthian has Crassus, Pompeius the Great by the waters

Of Egypt lies. Julius, ungrateful Rome stained with his life blood.

And earth has divided their ashes, unable to suffer

The weight of so many tombs. These are the wages of glory!

There lies between Naples and Great Puteoli, a chasm

Deep cloven, and Cocytus churns there his current; the vapor

In fury escapes from the gorge with that lethal spray laden.

No green in the aututun is there, no grass gladdens the meadow,

The supple twigs never resound with the twittering singing

Of birds in the Springtime. But chaos, volcanic black boulders

Of pumice lie Happy within their drear setting of cypress.

Amidst these infernal surroundings the ruler of Hades

Uplifted his head by the funeral flames silhouetted

And sprinkled with white from the ashes of corpses; and challenged

Winged Fortune in words such as these: 'Oh thou fickle controller

Of things upon earth and in heaven, security's foeman,

Oh Chance! Oh thou lover eternally faithful to change, and

Possession's betrayer, dost own thyself crushed by the power

Of Rome? Canst not raise up the tottering mass to its downfall

Its strength the young manhood of Rome now despises, and staggers

In bearing the booty heaped up by its efforts: behold how

They lavish their spoils! Wealth run mad now brings down their destruction.

They build out of gold and their palaces reach to the heavens;

The sea is expelled by their moles and their pastures are oceans;

They war against Nature in changing the state of creation.

They threaten my kingdom! Earth yawns with their tunnels deep driven

To furnish the stone for their madmen's foundations; already

The mountains are hollowed and now but re-echoing caverns;

While man quarries marble to serve his vainglorious purpose

The spirits infernal confess that they hope to win Heaven!

Arise, then, O Chance, change thy countenance peaceful to warlike

And harry the Romans, consign to my kingdom the fallen.

Ah, long is it now since my lips were with blood cooled and moistened,

Nor has my Tisiphone bathed her blood-lusting body

Since Sulla's sword drank to repletion and earth's bristling harvest

Grew ripe upon blood and thrust up to the light of the sunshine!'"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIRST.

"He spake ... and attempted to clasp the right hand of Fortuna,

But ruptured the crust of the earth, deeply cloven, asunder.

Then from her capricious heart Fortune made answer: 'O father

Whom Cocytus' deepest abysses obey, if to forecast

The future I may, without fear, thy petition shall prosper;

For no less consuming the anger that wars in this bosom,

The flame no less poignant, that burns to my marrow All favors

I gave to the bulwarks of Rome, now, I hate them. My

Gifts I repent! The same God who built up their dominion

Shall bring down destruction upon it. In burning their manhood

My heart shall delight and its blood-lust shall slake with their slaughter.

Now Philippi's field I can see strewn with dead of two battles

And Thessaly's funeral pyres and Iberia mourning.

Already the clangor of arms thrills my ears, and rings loudly:

Thou, Lybian Nile, I can see now thy barriers groaning

And Actium's gulf and Apollo's darts quailing the warriors!

Then, open thy thirsty dominions and summon fresh spirits;

For scarce will the ferryman's strength be sufficient to carry

The souls of the dead in his skiff: 'tis a fleet that is needed!

Thou, Pallid Tisiphone, slake with wide ruin, thy thirsting

And tear ghastly wounds: mangled earth sinks to hell and the spirits.'"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SECOND.

"But scarce had she finished, when trembled the clouds; and a gleaming

Bright flash of Jove's lightning transfixed them with flame and was gone.

The Lord of the Shades blanched with fear, at this bolt of his brother's,

Sank back, and drew closely together the gorge in Earth's bosom.

By auspices straightway the slaughter of men and the evils

Impending are shown by the gods. Here, the Titan unsightly

Blood red, veils his face with a twilight; on strife fratricidal

Already he gazed, thou hadst thought! There, silvery Cynthia

Obscuring her face at the full, denied light to the outrage.

The mountain crests riven by rock-slides roll thundering downward

And wandering rivers, to rivulets shrunk, writhed no longer

Familiar marges between. With the clangor of armor

The heavens resound; from the stars wafts the thrill of a trumpet

Sounding the call to arms. AEtna, now roused to eruption

Unwonted, darts flashes of flame to the clouds. Flitting phantoms

Appear midst the tombs and unburied bones, gibbering menace

A comet, strange stars in its diadem, leads a procession

And reddens the skies with its fire. Showers of blood fall from heaven

These portents the Deity shortly fulfilled! For now Caesar

Forsook vacillation and, spurred by the love of revenge, sheathed

The Gallic sword; brandished the brand that proclaimed civil warfare.

There, high in the Alps, where the crags, by a Greek god once trodden,

Slope down and permit of approach, is a spot ever sacred

To Hercules' altar; the winter with frozen snow seals it

And rears to the heavens a summit eternally hoary,

As though the sky there had slipped down: no warmth from the sunbeams,

No breath from the Springtime can soften the pile's wintry rigor

Nor slacken the frost chains that bind; and its menacing shoulders

The weight of the world could sustain. With victorious legions

These crests Caesar trod and selected a camp. Gazing downwards

On Italy's plains rolling far, from the top of the mountain,

He lifted both hands to the heavens, his voice rose in prayer:

'Omnipotent Jove, and thou, refuge of Saturn whose glory

Was brightened by feats of my armies and crowned with my triumphs,

Bear witness! Unwillingly summon I Mars to these armies,

Unwillingly draw I the sword! But injustice compels me.

While enemy blood dyes the Rhine and the Alps are held firmly

Repulsing a second assault of the Gauls on our city,

She dubs me an outcast! And Victory makes me an exile!

To triumphs three score, and defeats of the Germans, my treason

I trace! How can they fear my glory or see in my battles

A menace? But hirelings, and vile, to whom my Rome is but a

Stepmother! Methinks that no craven this sword arm shall hamper

And take not a stroke in repost. On to victory, comrades,

While anger seethes hot. With the sword we will seek a decision

The doom lowering down is a peril to all, and the treason.

My gratitude owe I to you, not alone have I conquered!

Since punishment waits by our trophies and victory merits

Disgrace, then let Chance cast the lots. Raise the standard of battle;

Again take your swords. Well I know that my cause is accomplished

Amidst such armed warriors I know that I cannot be beaten.'

While yet the words echoed, from heaven the bird of Apollo

Vouchsafed a good omen and beat with his pinions the ether.

From out of the left of a gloomy grove strange voices sounded

And flame flashed thereafter! The sun gleamed with brighter refulgence

Unwonted, his face in a halo of golden flame shining."



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THIRD.

"By omens emboldened, to follow, the battle-flags, Caesar

Commanded; and boldly led on down the perilous pathway.

The footing, firm-fettered by frost chains and ice, did not hinder

At first, but lay silent, the kindly cold masking its grimness;

But, after the squadrons of cavalry shattered the clouds, bound

By ice, and the trembling steeds crushed in the mail of the rivers,

Then, melted the snows! And soon torrents newborn, from the heights of

The mountains rush down: but these also, as if by commandment

Grow rigid, and, turn into ice, in their headlong rush downwards!

Now, that which rushed madly a moment before, must be hacked through!

But now, it was treacherous, baffling their steps and their footing

Deceiving; and men, horses, arms, fall in heaps, in confusion.

And see! Now the clouds, by an icy gale smitten, their burden

Discharge! Lo! the gusts of the whirlwind swirl fiercely about them;

The sky in convulsions, with swollen hail buffets them sorely.

Already the clouds themselves rupture and smother their weapons,

An avalanche icy roars down like a billow of ocean;

Earth lay overwhelmed by the drifts of the snow and the planets

Of heaven are blotted from sight; overwhelmed are the rivers

That cling to their banks, but unconquered is Caesar! His javelin

He leans on and scrunches with firm step a passage the bristling

Grim ice fields across! As, spurred on by the lust, of adventure

Amphitryon's offspring came striding the Caucasus slopes down;

Or Jupiter's menacing mien as, from lofty Olympus

He leaped, the doomed giants to crush and to scatter their weapons.

While Caesar in anger the swelling peaks treads down, winged rumor

In terror flies forth and on beating wings seeks the high summit

Of Palatine tall: every image she rocks with her message

Announcing this thunderbolt Roman! Already, the ocean

Is tossing his fleets! Now his cavalry, reeking with German

Gore, pours from the Alps! Slaughter, bloodshed, and weapons

The red panorama of war is unrolled to their vision!

By terror their hearts are divided: two counsels perplex them!

One chooses by land to seek flight: to another, the water

Appeals, and the sea than his own land is safer! Another

Will stand to his arms and advantage extort from Fate's mandate.

The depth of their fear marks the length of their flight! In confusion

The people itself—shameful spectacle—driven by terror

Is led to abandon the city. Rome glories in fleeing!

The Quirites from battle blench! Cowed by the breath of a rumor

Relinquished their firesides to mourning! One citizen, palsied

With terror, his children embraces: another, his penates

Conceals in his bosom; then, weeping, takes leave of his threshold

And slaughters the distant invader—with curses! Their spouses

Some clasp to their sorrow-wracked bosoms! Youths carry their fathers

Bowed down with old age, uninured to the bearing of burdens.

They seize what they dread to lose most. Inexperience drags all

Its chattels to camp and to battle: as, when powerful Auster

Piles up the churned waters and tumbles them: never a yard-arm

Nor rudder to answer the hand, here, one fashions a life-raft

Of pine planks, another steers into some bay on a lee shore,

Another will crack on and run from the gale and to Fortune

Trust all! But why sorrow for trifles? The consuls, with Pompey

The Great—he, the terror of Pontus, of savage Hydaspes

Explorer, the reef that wrecked pirates, caused Jove to turn livid,

When thrice was a triumph decreed him, whom Pontus' vexed water

And pacified billows of Bosphorus worshipped! Disgraceful their

Flight! Title and glory forsaking! Now Fortune capricious

Looks down on the back of great Pompey retreating in terror!"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FOURTH.

"So great a misfortune disrupted the concord of heaven

And gods swelled the rout in their panic! Behold through creation

The gentle divinities flee from the ravening earth; in

Their loathing they turn from humanity, doomed to destruction!

And first of all, Peace, with her snowy white arms, hides her visage

Defeated, her helmet beneath and, abandoning earth, flees

To seek out the realm of implacable Dis, as a refuge

Meek Faith her companion, and Justice with locks loosely flowing,

And Concord, in tears, and her raiment in tatters, attend her.

The minions of Pluto pour forth from the portals of darkness

That yawn: the serpent-haired Fury, Bellona the Savage,

Megoera with firebrands, destruction, and treachery, livid

Death's likeness! Among them is Frenzy, as, free, with her lashings

Snapped short, she now raises her gory head, shielding her features

Deep scarred by innumerous wounds 'neath her helmet blood-clotted.

Her left arm she guards with a battle-scarred shield scored by weapons,

And numberless spear-heads protrude from its surface: her right hand

A flaming torch brandishes, kindling a flame that will burn up

The world! Now the gods are on earth and the skies note their absence;

The planets disordered their orbits attempt! Into factions

The heavens divide; first Dione espouses the cause of

Her Caesar. Minerva next steps to her side and the great son

Of Ares, his mighty spear brandishing! Phoebus espouses

The cause of Great Pompey: his sister and Mercury also

And Hercules like unto him in his travels and labors.

The trumpets call! Discord her Stygian head lifts to heaven

Her tresses disheveled, her features with clotted blood covered,

Tears pour from her bruised eyes, her iron fangs thick coated with rust,

Her tongue distils poison, her features are haloed with serpents,

Her hideous bosom is visible under her tatters,

A torch with a blood red flame waves from her tremulous right hand.

Emerging from Cocytus dark and from Tartarus murky

She strode to the crests of the Apennines noble, the prospect

Of earth to survey, spread before her the world panorama

Its shores and the armies that march on its surface: these words then

Burst out of her bosom malignant: 'To arms, now, ye nations,

While anger seethes hot, seize your arms, set the torch to the cities,

Who skulks now is lost; neither woman nor child nor the aged

Bowed down with their years shall find quarter: the whole world will tremble

And rooftrees themselves shall crash down and take part in the struggle.

Marcellus, hold firm for the law! And thou, Curio, madden

The rabble! Thou, Lentulus, strive not to check valiant Ares!

Thou, Cesar divine, why delayest thou now thine invasion?

Why smash not the gates, why not level the walls of the cities,

Their treasures to pillage? Thou, Magnus, dost not know the secret

Of holding the hills of Rome? Take thou the walls of Dyrrachium,

Let Thessaly's harbors be dyed with the blood of the Romans!'

On earth was obeyed every detail of Discord's commandment."

When Eumolpus had, with great volubility, poured out this flood of words, we came at last to Crotona. Here we refreshed ourselves at a mean inn, but on the following day we went in search of more imposing lodgings and fell in with a crowd of legacy hunters who were very curious as to the class of society to which we belonged and as to whence we had come. Thereupon, in accord with our mutual understanding, such ready answers did we make as to who we might be or whence we had come that we gave them no cause for doubt. They immediately fell to wrangling in their desire to heap their own riches upon Eumolpus and every fortune-hunter solicited his favor with presents.



ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Desire no possession unless the world envies me for possessing Either 'take-in,' or else they are 'taken-in' Platitudes by which anguished minds are recalled to sanity They seize what they dread to lose most



VOLUME 5.—AFFAIRS AT CROTONA



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIFTH.

For a long time affairs at Crotona ran along in this manner and Eumolpus, flushed with success so far forgot the former state of his fortunes that he even bragged to his followers that no one could hold out against any wish of his, and that any member of his suite who committed a crime in that city would, through the influence of his friends, get off unpunished. But, although I daily crammed my bloated carcass to overflowing with good things, and began more and more to believe that Fortune had turned away her face from keeping watch upon me, I frequently meditated, nevertheless, upon my present state and upon its cause. "Suppose," thought I, "some wily legacy hunter should dispatch an agent to Africa and catch us in our lie? Or even suppose the hireling servant, glutted with prosperity, should tip off his cronies or give the whole scheme away out of spite? There would be nothing for it but flight and, in a fresh state of destitution, a recalling of poverty which had been driven off. Gods and goddesses, how ill it fares with those living outside the law; they are always on the lookout for what is coming to them!" (Turning these possibilities over in my mind I left the house, in a state of black melancholy, hoping to revive my spirits in the fresh air, but scarcely had I set foot upon the public promenade when a girl, by no means homely, met me, and, calling me Polyaenos, the name I had assumed since my metamorphosis, informed me that her mistress desired leave to speak with me. "You must be mistaken," I answered, in confusion, "I am only a servant and a stranger, and am by no means worthy of such an honor.")



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIXTH.

("You yourself," she replied, "are the one to whom I was sent but,) because you are well aware of your good looks, you are proud and sell your favors instead of giving them. What else can those wavy well-combed locks mean or that face, rouged and covered with cosmetics, or that languishing, wanton expression in your eyes? Why that gait, so precise that not a footstep deviates from its place, unless you wish to show off your figure in order to sell your favors? Look at me, I know nothing about omens and I don't study the heavens like the astrologers, but I can read men's intentions in their faces and I know what a flirt is after when I see him out for a stroll; so if you'll sell us what I want there's a buyer ready, but if you will do the graceful thing and lend, let us be under obligations to you for the favor. And as for your confession that you are only a common servant, by that you only fan the passion of the lady who burns for you, for some women will only kindle for canaille and cannot work up an appetite unless they see some slave or runner with his clothing girded up: a gladiator arouses one, or a mule-driver all covered with dust, or some actor posturing in some exhibition on the stage. My mistress belongs to this class, she jumps the fourteen rows from the stage to the gallery and looks for a lover among the gallery gods at the back." Puffed up with this delightful chatter. "Come now, confess, won't you," I queried, "is this lady who loves me yourself?" The waiting maid smiled broadly at this blunt speech. "Don't have such a high opinion of yourself," said she, "I've never given in to any servant yet; the gods forbid that I should ever throw my arms around a gallows-bird. Let the married women see to that and kiss the marks of the scourge if they like: I'll sit upon nothing below a knight, even if I am only a servant." I could not help marveling, for my part, at such discordant passions, and I thought it nothing short of a miracle that this servant should possess the hauteur of the mistress and the mistress the low tastes of the wench!

Each one will find what suits his taste, one thing is not for all, One gathers roses as his share, another thorns enthrall.

After a little more teasing, I requested the maid to conduct her mistress to a clump of plane trees. Pleased with this plan, the girl picked up the skirt of her garment and turned into a laurel grove that bordered the path. After a short delay she brought her mistress from her hiding-place and conducted her to my side; a woman more perfect than any statue. There are no words with which to describe her form and anything I could say would fall far short. Her hair, naturally wavy, flowed completely over her shoulders; her forehead was low and the roots of her hair were brushed back from it; her eyebrows, running from the very springs of her cheeks, almost met at the boundary line between a pair of eyes brighter than stars shining in a moonless night; her nose was slightly aquiline and her mouth was such an one as Praxiteles dreamed Diana had. Her chin, her neck, her hands, the gleaming whiteness of her feet under a slender band of gold; she turned Parian marble dull! Then, for the first time, Doris' tried lover thought lightly of Doris!

Oh Jove, what's come to pass that thou, thine armor cast away Art mute in heaven; and but an idle tale? At such a time the horns should sprout, the raging bull hold sway, Or they white hair beneath swan's down conceal Here's Dana's self! But touch that lovely form Thy limbs will melt beneath thy passions' storm!



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVENTH.

She was delighted and so be witchingly did she smile that I seemed to see the full moon showing her face from behind a cloud. Then, punctuating her words with her fingers, "Dear boy, if you are not too critical to enjoy a woman of wealth who has but this year known her first man, I offer you a sister," said she. "You have a brother already, I know, for I didn't disdain to ask, but what is to prevent your adopting a sister, too? I will come in on the same footing only deem my kisses worthy of recognition and caress me at your own pleasure!" "Rather let me implore you by your beauty," I replied. "Do not scorn to admit an alien among your worshipers: If you permit me to kneel before your shrine you will find me a true votary and, that you may not think I approach this temple of love without a gift, I make you a present of my brother!" "What," she exclaimed, "would you really sacrifice the only one without whom you could not live'? The one upon whose kisses your happiness depends. Him whom you love as I would have you love me?" Such sweetness permeated her voice as she said this, so entrancing was the sound upon the listening air that you would have believed the Sirens' harmonies were floating in the breeze. I was struck with wonder and dazzled by I know not what light that shone upon me, brighter than the whole heaven, but I made bold to inquire the name of my divinity. "Why, didn't my maid tell you that I am called Circe?" she replied. "But I am not the sun-child nor has my mother ever stayed the revolving world in its course at her pleasure; but if the Fates bring us two together I will owe heaven a favor. I don't know what it is, but some god's silent purpose is beneath this. Circe loves not Polyaenos without some reason; a great torch is always flaming when these names meet! Take me in your arms then, if you will; there's no prying stranger to fear, and your 'brother' is far away from this spot!" So saying, Circe clasped me in arms that were softer than down and drew me to the ground which was covered with colored flowers.

With flowers like these did Mother Earth great Ida's summit strew When Jupiter, his heart aflame, enjoyed his lawful love; There glowed the rose, the flowering rush, the violet's deep blue, From out green meadows snow-white lilies laughed. Then from above, This setting summoned Venus to the green and tender sod, Bright day smiled kindly on the secret amour of the God.

Side by side upon the grassy plot we lay, exchanging a thousand kisses, the prelude to more poignant pleasure, (but alas! My sudden loss of vigor disappointed Circe!)



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT.

(Infuriated at this affront,) "What's the matter," demanded she; "do my kisses offend you? Is my breath fetid from fasting? Is there any evil smelling perspiration in my armpits? Or, if it's nothing of this kind, are you afraid of Giton?" Under her eyes, I flushed hotly and, if I had any virility left, I lost it then; my whole body seemed to be inert. "My queen," I cried, "do not mock me in my humiliation. I am bewitched!" (Circe's anger was far from being appeased by such a trivial excuse; turning her eyes contemptuously away from me, she looked at her maid,) "Tell me, Chrysis, and tell me truly, is there anything repulsive about me? Anything sluttish? Have I some natural blemish that disfigures my beauty? Don't deceive your mistress! I don't know what's the matter with us, but there must be something!" Then she snatched a mirror from the silent maid and after scrutinizing all the looks and smiles which pass between lovers, she shook out her wrinkled earth-stained robe and flounced off into the temple of Venus (nearby.) And here was I, like a convicted criminal who had seen some horrible nightmare, asking myself whether the pleasure out of which I had been cheated was a reality or only a dream.

As when, in the sleep-bringing night Dreams sport with the wandering eyes, And earth, spaded up, yields to light Her gold that by day she denies, The stealthy hand snatches the spoils; The face with cold sweat is suffused And Fear grips him tight in her toils Lest robbers the secret have used And shake out the gold from his breast. But, when they depart from his brain, These enchantments by which he's obsessed, And Truth comes again with her train Restoring perspective and pain, The phantasm lives to the last, The mind dwells with shades of the past.

(The misfortune seemed to me a dream, but I imagined that I must surely be under a spell of enchantment and, for a long time, I was so devoid of strength that I could not get to my feet. But finally my mental depression began to abate, little by little my strength came back to me, and I returned home: arrived there, I feigned illness and threw myself upon my couch. A little late: Giton, who had heard of my indisposition, entered the room in some concern. As I wished to relieve his mind I informed him that I had merely sought my pallet to take a rest, telling him much other gossip but not a word about my mishap as I stood in great fear of his jealousy and, to lull any suspicion which he might entertain, I drew him to my side and endeavoured to give him some proofs of my love but all my panting and sweating were in vain. He jumped up in a rage and accused my lack of virility and change of heart, declaring that he had for a long time suspected that I had been expending my vigor and breath elsewhere. "No! No! Darling," I replied, "my love for you has always been the same, but reason prevails now over love and wantonness.") "And for the Socratic continence of your love, I thank you in his name," (he replied sarcastically,) "Alcibiades was never more spotless when he left his master's bed!"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINTH.

"Believe me, 'brother,' when I tell you that I do not know whether I am a man or not," (I vainly protested;) "I do not feel like one, if I am! Dead and buried lies that part in which I was once an Achilles!" (Giton, seeing that I was completely enervated, and) fearing that it might give cause for scandal if he were caught in this quiet place with me, tore himself away and fled into an inner part of the house. (He had just gone when) Chrysis entered the room and handed me her mistress's tablets, in which were written the following words:

CIRCE TO POLYIENOS-GREETING.

Were I a wanton, I should complain of my disappointment, but as it is I am beholden to your impotence, for by it I dallied the longer in the shadow of pleasure. Still, I would like to know how you are and whether you got home upon your own legs, for the doctors say that one cannot walk without nerves! Young man, I advise you to beware of paralysis for I never in my life saw a patient in such great danger; you're as good as dead, I'm sure! What if the same numbness should attack your hands and knees? You would have to send for the funeral trumpeters! Still, even if I have been affronted, I will not begrudge a prescription to one as sick as you! Ask Giton if you would like to recover. I am sure you will get back your strength if you will sleep without your "brother" for three nights. So far as I am concerned, I am not in the least alarmed about finding someone to whom I shall be as pleasing as I was to you; my mirror and my reputation do not lie.

Farewell (if you can).

"Such things will happen," said Chrysis, when she saw that I had read through the entire inditement, "and especially in this city, where the women can lure the moon from the sky! But we'll find a cure for your trouble. Just return a diplomatic answer to my mistress and restore her self-esteem by frank courtesy for, truth to tell, she has never been herself from the minute she received that affront." I gladly followed the maid's advice and wrote upon the tablets as follows:



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTIETH.

POLYAENOS TO CIRCE—GREETING.

Dear lady, I confess that I have often given cause for offense, for I am only a man, and a young one, too, but I never committed a deadly crime until today! You have my confession of guilt, I deserve any punishment you may see fit to prescribe. I betrayed a trust, I murdered a man, I violated a temple: demand my punishment for these crimes. Should it be your pleasure to slay me I will come to you with my sword; if you are content with a flogging I will run naked to my mistress; only bear in mind that it was not myself but my tools that failed me. I was a soldier, and ready, but I had no arms. What threw me into such disorder I do not know, perhaps my imagination outran my lagging body, by aspiring to too much it is likely that I spent my pleasure in delay; I cannot imagine what the trouble was. You bid me beware of paralysis; as if a disease which prevented my enjoying you could grow worse! But my apology amounts briefly to this; if you will grant me an opportunity of repairing my fault, I will give you satisfaction. Farewell

After dismissing Chrysis with these fair promises, I paid careful attention to my body which had so evilly served me and, omitting the bath, I annointed myself, in moderation, with unguents and placed myself upon a more strengthening diet such as onions and snail's heads without condiments, and I also drank more sparingly of wine; then, taking a short walk before settling down to sleep, I went to bed without Giton. So anxious was I to please her that I feared the outcome if my "brother" lay tickling my side.



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIRST.

Finding myself vigorous in mind and body when I arose next morning, I went down to the same clump of plane trees, though I dreaded the spot as one of evil omen, and commenced to wait for Chrysis to lead me on my way. I took a short stroll and had just seated myself where I had sat the day before, when she came under the trees, leading a little old woman by the hand. "Well, Mr. Squeamish," she chirped, when she had greeted me, "have you recovered your appetite?" In the meantime, the old hag:

A wine-soaked crone with twitching lips

brought out a twisted hank of different colored yarns and put it about my neck; she then kneaded dust and spittle and, dipping her middle finger into the mixture, she crossed my forehead with it, in spite of my protests.

As long as life remains, there's hope; Thou rustic God, oh hear our prayer, Great Priapus, I thee invoke, Temper our arms to dare!

When she had made an end of this incantation she ordered me to spit three times, and three times to drop stones into my bosom, each stone she wrapped up in purple after she had muttered charms over it; then, directing her hands to my privates, she commenced to try out my virility. Quicker than thought the nerves responded to the summons, filling the crone's hand with an enormous erection! Skipping for joy, "Look, Chrysis, look," she cried out, "see what a hare I've started, for someone else to course!" (This done, the old lady handed me over to Chrysis, who was greatly delighted at the recovery of her mistress's treasure; she hastily conducted me straight to the latter, introducing me into a lovely nook that nature had furnished with everything which could delight the eye.)

Shorn of its top, the swaying pine here casts a summer shade And quivering cypress, and the stately plane And berry-laden laurel. A brook's wimpling waters strayed Lashed into foam, but dancing on again And rolling pebbles in their chattering flow. 'Twas Love's own nook, As forest nightingale and urban Procne undertook To bear true witness; hovering, the gleaming grass above And tender violets; wooing with song, their stolen love.

Fanning herself with a branch of flowering myrtle, she lay, stretched out with her marble neck resting upon a golden cushion. When she caught sight of me she blushed faintly; she recalled yesterday's affront, I suppose. At her invitation, I sat down by her side, as soon as the others had gone; whereupon she put the branch of myrtle over my face and emboldened, as if a wall had been raised between us, "Well, Mr. Paralytic," she teased, "have you brought all of yourself along today?" "Why ask me," I replied, "why not try me instead?" and throwing myself bodily into her arms, I revelled in her kisses with no witchcraft to stop me.



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SECOND.

The loveliness of her form drew me to her and summoned me to love. Our lips were pressed together in a torrent of smacking kisses, our groping hands had discovered every trick of excitation, and our bodies, clasped in a mutual embrace, had fused our souls into one, (and then, in the very midst of these ravishing preliminaries my nerves again played me false and I was unable to last until the instant of supreme bliss.) Lashed to fury by these inexcusable affronts, the lady at last ran to avenge herself and, calling her house servants, she gave orders for me to be hoisted upon their shoulders and flogged; then, still unsatisfied with the drastic punishment she had inflicted upon me, she called all the spinning women and scrubbing wenches in the house and ordered them to spit upon me. I covered my face with my hands but I uttered no complaint as I well knew what I deserved and, overwhelmed with blows and spittle, I was driven from the house. Proselenos was kicked out too, Chrysis was beaten, and all the slaves grumbled among themselves and wondered what had upset their mistress's good humor. I took heart after having given some thought to my misfortunes and, artfully concealing the marks of the blows for fear that Eumolpus would make merry over my mishaps or, worse yet, that Giton might be saddened by my disgrace, I did the only thing I could do to save my self-respect, I pretended that I was sick and went to bed. There, I turned the full fury of my resentment against that recreant which had been the sole cause of all the evil accidents which had befallen me.

Three times I grasped the two-edged blade The recreant to cut away; Three times by Fear my hand was stayed And palsied Terror said me nay That which I might have done before 'Twas now impossible to do; For, cold with Fear, the wretch withdrew Into a thousand-wrinkled mare, And shrank in shame before my gaze Nor would his head uncover more. But though the scamp in terror skulked, With words I flayed him as he sulked.

Raising myself upon my elbow I rebuked the shirker in some such terms as these: "What have you to say for yourself, you disgrace to gods and men," I demanded, "for your name must never be mentioned among refined people. Did I deserve to be lifted up to heaven and then dragged down to hell by you? Was it right for you to slander my flourishing and vigorous years and land me in the shadows and lassitude of decrepit old age? Give me some sign, however faint, I beg of you, that you have returned to life!" I vented my anger in words such as these.

His eyes were fixed, and with averted look He stood, less moved by any word of mine Than weeping willows bending o'er a brook Or drooping poppies as at noon they pine.

When I had made an end of this invective, so out of keeping with good taste, I began to do penance for my soliloquy and blushed furtively because I had so far forgotten my modesty as to invoke in words that part of my body which men of dignity do not even recognize. Then, rubbing my forehead for a long time, "Why have I committed an indiscretion in relieving my resentment by natural abuse," I mused, "what does it amount to? Are we not accustomed to swear at every member of the human body, the belly, throat, or even the head when it aches, as it often does? Did not Ulysses wrangle with his own heart? Do not the tragedians 'Damn their eyes' just as if they could hear?

"Gouty patients swear at their feet, rheumatics at their hands, blear-eyed people at their eyes, and do not those who often stub their toes blame their feet for all their pain?

"Why will our Catos with their frowning brows Condemn a work of fresh simplicity'? A cheerful kindness my pure speech endows; What people do, I write, to my capacity. For who knows not the pleasures Venus gives? Who will not in a warm bed tease his members? Great Epicurus taught a truth that lives; Love and enjoy life! All the rest is embers.

"Nothing can be more insincere than the silly prejudices of mankind, and nothing sillier than the morality of bigotry,"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THIRD.

I called Giton when I had finished my meditation: "Tell me, little brother," I demanded, "tell me, on your honor: Did Ascyltos stay awake until he had exacted his will of you, the night he stole you away from me? Or was he content to spend the night like a chaste widow?" Wiping his eyes the lad, in carefully chosen words took oath that Ascyltos had used no force against him. (The truth of the matter is, that I was so distraught with my own misfortunes that I knew not what I was saying. "Why recall past memories which can only cause pain," said I to myself. I then directed all my energies towards the recovery of my lost manhood. To achieve this I was ready even to devote myself to the gods; accordingly, I went out to invoke the aid of Priapus.) {Putting as good a face upon the matter as I could} I knelt upon the threshold of his shrine and invoked the God in the following verses:

"Of Bacchus and the nymphs, companion boon, Whom fair Dione set o'er forests wide As God: whom Lesbos and green Thasos own For deity, whom Lydians, far and wide Adore through all the seasons of the year; Whose temple in his own Hypaepa placed, Thou Dryad's joy and Bacchus', hear my prayer! To thee I come, by no dark blood disgraced, No shrine, in wicked lust have I profaned; When I was poor and worn with want, I sinned Not by intent, a pauper's sin's not banned As of another! Unto thee I pray Lift thou the load from off my tortured mind, Forgive a light offense! When fortune smiles I'll not thy glory shun and leave behind Thy worship! Unto thee, a goat that feels His primest vigor, father of the flocks Shall come! And suckling pigs, the tender young Of some fine grunting sow! New wine, in crocks Shall foam! Thy grateful praises shall be sung By youths who thrice shall dance around thy shrine Happy, in youth and full of this year's wine!"

While I was engaged in this diplomatic effort in behalf of the affected member, a hideous crone with disheveled hair, and clad in black garments which were in great disorder, entered the shrine and, laying hands upon me, led me {thoroughly frightened,} out into the portico.



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOURTH.

"What witches" (she cried,) "have devoured your manhood? What filth did you tread upon at some crossroads, in the dark? Not even by the boy could you do your duty but, weak and effeminate, you are worn out like a cart-horse at a hill, you have lost both labor and sweat! Not content with getting yourself into trouble, you have stirred up the wrath of the gods against me {and I will make you smart for it."} She then led me, unresisting, back into the priestess's room, pushed me down upon the bed, snatched a cane that hung upon the door, and gave me another thrashing: I remained silent and, had the cane not splintered at the first stroke, thereby diminishing the force of the blow, she might easily have broken my arms or my head. I groaned dismally, and especially when she manipulated my member and, shedding a flood of tears, I covered my head with my right arm and huddled down upon the pillow. Nor did she weep less bitterly:

The sailor, naked from his foundered barque, Some shipwrecked mariner seeks out to hear his woe; When hail beats down a farmer's crop, his cark Seeks consolation from another, too. Death levels caste and sufferers unites, And weeping parents are as one in grief; We also will beseech the starry heights, United prayers climb best, is the belief.

She seated herself upon the other side of the bed and in quavering tones commenced to accuse the delays of old age. At last the priestess came in. "Why," she cried, "what has brought you into my cell as if you were visiting a newly made grave? And on a feast-day, too, when even mourners ought to smile!" "OEnothea," the old hag replied, "this young man here was born under an unlucky star: he can't dispose of his goods to either boy or girl. Such an unfortunate fellow you never saw. He has no tool at all, only a piece of leather soaked in water! I wish you would tell me what you think of a man who could get up from Circe's bed without having tasted pleasure!" On hearing these words, OEnothea sat down between us and, after shaking her head for a while, "I'm the only one that knows how to cure that disease," said she, "and for fear you think I'm talking to hear myself talk, I'll just have the young fellow sleep with me for a night, and if I don't make it as hard as horn!

All that you see in the world must give heed to my mandates;

Blossoming earth, when I will it, must languish, a desert.'

Riches pour forth, when I will it, from crags and grim boulders

Waters will spurt that will rival the Nile at its flooding

Seas calm their billows before me, gales silence their howlings,

Hearing my step! And the rivers sink into their channels;

Dragons, Hyrcanian tigers stand fast at my bidding!

Why should I tell you of small things? The image of Luna

Drawn by my spells must descend, and Apollo, atremble

Backs up his horses and turns from his course at my order!

Such is the power of my word! By the rites of a virgin

Quenched is the raging of bulls; and the sun's daughter Circe

Changed and transfigured the crew of the wily Ulysses.

Proteus changes his form when his good pleasure dictates,

I, who am skilled in these arts, can the shrubs of Mount Ida

Plant in the ocean; turn rivers to flow up the mountains!"



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIFTH.

At this declaration, which was so awe-inspiring, I shuddered in terror, and commenced to scrutinize the crone more narrowly. "Come now," said OEnothea, "obey my orders," and, carefully wiping her hands, she bent over the cot and kissed me, once, twice! On the middle of the altar OEnothea placed an old table, upon which she heaped live coals, then with melted pitch she repaired a goblet which had become cracked through age. Next she replaced, in the smoke-stained wall, a peg which had come out when she took down the wooden goblet. Then, having donned a mantle, in the shape of a piece of square-cut cloth, she set a huge kettle upon the hearth and at the same time speared with a fork a cloth hanging upon the meathooks, and lifted it down. It contained some beans which had been laid away for future use, and a very small and stale piece of pig's cheek, scored with a thousand slashes. When she had untied the string which fastened the cloth, she poured some of the beans upon the table and ordered me to shell them quickly and carefully. I obey her mandate and with careful fingers separate the beans from the filthy pods which contain them; but she, accusing my clumsiness, hastily snatched them and, skillfully tearing off the pods with her teeth, spat them upon the ground, where they looked like dead flies. I wondered, then, at the ingenuity of poverty and its expedients for emergency. (So ardent a follower of this virtue did the priestess seem that it was reflected in everything around her. Her dwelling, in particular, was a very shrine of poverty.)

No Indian ivory set in gold gleamed here, No trodden marble glistened here; no earth Mocked for its gifts; but Ceres' festive grove: With willow wickerwork 'twas set around, New cups of clay by revolutions shaped Of lowly wheel. For honey soft, a bowl; Platters of green bark wickerwork, a jar Stained by the lifeblood of the God of Wine; The walls around with chaff and spattered clay Were covered. Flanging from protruding nails Were slender stalks of the green rush; and then Suspended from the smoky beam, the stores Of this poor cottage. Service berries soft, Entwined in fragrant wreaths hung down, Dried savory and raisins by the bunch. An hostess here like she on Attic soil, Of Hecate's pure worship worthy she! Whose fame Kallimachos so grandly sang 'Twill live forever through the speaking years.



CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIXTH.

In the meantime, (having shelled the beans,) she took a mouthful of the meat and with the fork was replacing the pig's cheek, which was coeval with herself, upon the meat-hook, when the rotten stool, which she was using to augment her height, broke down under the old lady's weight and let her fall upon the hearth. The neck of the pot was broken, putting out the fire, which was just getting a good start, her elbow was burned by a flaming brand, and her whole face was covered by the ashes raised by her fall. I jumped up in dismay and, not without laughing, helped the old lady to her feet. She hastily scurried out into the neighborhood to replenish the fire, for fear anything should delay the sacrifice. I was on my way to the door of the cell when lo! and behold! three sacred geese which were accustomed, I suppose, to demand their feed from the old woman at midday, made a rush at me and, surrounding me, made me nervous with their abominable rabid cackling. One tore at my tunic, another undid the lacings of my sandals and tugged at them, but one in particular, the ringleader and moving spirit of this savage attack, did not hesitate to worry at my leg with his serrated bill. Unable to see the joke, I twisted off one of the legs of the little table and, thus armed, began to belabor the pugnacious brute. Nor did I rest content with a light blow, I avenged myself by the death of the goose.