§ 95. The loves of the devotees of Venus are as the sands of the sea for number. Below are given the fortunes of a few: Hippomenes, Hero, Pygmalion, Pyramus, and Phaon. The favor of the goddess toward Paris, who awarded her the palm of beauty in preference to Juno and Minerva, will occupy our attention in connection with the story of the Trojan War.1

Atalanta's Race.2 Atalanta, the daughter of Schoeneus of Boeotia, had been warned by an oracle that marriage would be fatal to her happiness. Consequently she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. Fair, fearless, swift and free: in beauty and in desire she was a Cynthia, — of mortal form, and with a woman's heart. To all suitors (for she had many) she made answer: "I will be the prize of him only who shall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail." In spite of this hard condition some would try. Of one such race Hippomenes was to be judge. It was his thought, at first, that these suitors risked too much for

a wife. But when he saw Atalanta lay aside her robe for the race, he changed his mind, and began to swell with envy.

of those that seemed likely to win.

The virgin darted forward. As she ran she looked more beautiful than ever. The breezes gave wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. A ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble wall. Her competitors were distanced, and were put to death without mercy. Hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixed his eyes on the 2 Ovid, Metam. 10: 560-680.

1 § 167.

virgin, and said, "Why boast of beating those laggards? I offer myself for the contest." Atalanta looked at him with pity in her face, and hardly knew whether she would rather conquer so goodly a youth or not. While she hesitated, the spectators grew impatient for the contest, and her father prompted her to prepare. Then Hippomenes addressed a prayer to Cypris: "Help me, Venus, for thou hast impelled me." Venus heard, and was propitious.

She gathered three golden apples from the garden of her temple, in her own island of Cyprus, and, unseen by any, gave them to Hippomenes, telling him how to use them. Atalanta and her lover were ready. The signal was given.

They both started; he, by one stride, first,
For she half pitied him so beautiful,
Running to meet his death, yet was resolved
To conquer: soon she near'd him, and he felt
The rapid and repeated gush of breath

Behind his shoulder.

From his hand now dropt

A golden apple: she lookt down and saw

A glitter on the grass, yet on she ran.
He dropt a second; now she seem'd to stoop:
He dropt a third; and now she stoopt indeed:
Yet, swifter than a wren picks up a grain
Of millet, rais'd her head: it was too late,
Only one step, only one breath, too late.
Hippomenes had toucht the maple goal
With but two fingers, leaning pronely forth.
She stood in mute despair; the prize was won.
Now each walkt slowly forward, both so tired,
And both alike breathed hard. and stopt at times.
When he turn'd round to her, she lowered her face
Cover'd with blushes, and held out her hand,

The golden apple in it.

"Leave me now,"

He did take

Said she, "I must walk homeward."

The apple and the hand.

"Both I detain,"

Said he, "the other two I dedicate

To the two Powers that soften virgin hearts,

Eros and Aphrodite; and this one

To her who ratifies the nuptial vow."

She would have wept to see her father weep,

But some God pitied her, and purple wings

(What God's were they?) hovered and interposed.1

But the oracle was yet to be fulfilled. The lovers, full of their own happiness, after all, forgot to pay due honor to Aphrodite ; and the goddess was provoked at their ingratitude. She caused them to give offence to Cybele. That powerful goddess took from them their human form the huntress heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness; her lord and master a lion, and yoked them to her car, where they are still to be seen in all representations, in statuary or painting, of the goddess Cybele.

§ 96. Hero and Leander.2.

On Hellespont, guilty of true love's blood,-
In view and opposite two cities stood,
Sea-borderers, disjoin'd by Neptune's might;
The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.
At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero the fair,
Whom young Apollo courted for her hair,
And offer'd as a dower his burning throne,
Where she should sit, for men to gaze upon..

Some say, for her the fairest Cupid pin'd,
And, looking in her face, was strooken blind.
But this is true: so like was one the other,
As he imagined Hero was his mother;
And oftentimes into her bosom flew,
About her naked neck his bare arms threw,

And laid his childish head upon her breast,

And, with still panting rockt, there took his rest.

1 From W. S. Landor's Hippomenes and Atalanta.

The poetical passages are from Marlowe's Hero and Leander, First Sestiad. Marlowe's narrative was completed by Chapman. See Musæus of Alexandria, De Amore Herois et Leandri ; Verg. Georg. 3:258; Ovid, Her. 18:19; Stat. Theb. 6:535.