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"If with mists of evening dew

Thou dost nourish these young flowers
Till they grow, in scent and hue,

Fairest children of the hours,
Breathe thine influence most divine

On thine own child, Proserpine." 1

2

§ 107. Orpheus and Eurydice. Of mortals who have visited Hades and returned, none has a sweeter or sadder history than Orpheus, son of Apollo and the Muse Calliope. Presented by his father with a lyre and taught to play upon it, he became the most famous of musicians; and not only his fellow-mortals but even the wild beasts were softened by his strains. The very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. And so also was Eurydice, whom he loved and won.

Hymen was called to bless with his presence the nuptials of Orpheus with Eurydice, but he

brought no happy omens with him. His torch smoked and brought tears into the eyes. In coincidence with such prognostics, Eurydice, shortly after her marriage, was seen by the shepherd Aristæus, who was struck with her beauty, and made advances to her. In flying she trod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot, and died. Orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods and men, and finding his complaint of no avail, resolved to seek his

wife in the regions of the dead. He descended by a cave situated on the side of the promontory of Tænarus, and arrived in the

1 P. B. Shelley: Song of Proserpine, while gathering flowers on the plain of Enna. 2 Ovid, Metam. 10: 1-77.

Stygian realm. He passed through crowds of ghosts, and presented himself before the throne of Pluto and Proserpine. Accompanying his words with the lyre, he sang his petition for his wife. Without her he would not return. In such tender strains he sang Tantalus, in spite of his thirst,

that the very ghosts shed tears. stopped for a moment his efforts for water, Ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased to tear the giant's liver, the daughters of

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Danaüs rested from their task of drawing water in a sieve,' and Sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. Then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the Furies were wet with tears. Proserpine could not resist, and Pluto himself gave way. Eurydice was called. She came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. Orpheus was permitted to take her away with him on condition that he should not turn round to look at her till they should have reached the upper air. Under this condition, they proceeded on their way: he leading, she following. Mindful of his promise, without let or hindrance the bard passed through the horrors of hell. All Hades held its breath.

1 Commentary, § 133.

2 Commentary, § 107.

On he stept,

And Cerberus held agape his triple jaws;
On stept the bard. Ixion's wheel stood still.
Now, past all peril, free was his return,
And now was hastening into upper air
Eurydice, when sudden madness seized
The incautious lover; pardonable fault,
If they below could pardon: on the verge
Of light he stood, and on Eurydice
(Mindless of fate, alas! and soul-subdued)
Lookt back.

There, Orpheus! Orpheus! there was all
Thy labour shed, there burst the Dynast's bond,
And thrice arose that rumour from the lake.

"Ah, what!" she cried, "what madness

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hath undone

Me! and, ah, wretched! thee, my Orpheus,
too!

For lo! the cruel Fates recall me now;
Chill slumbers press my swimming eyes. . . .
Farewell!

Night rolls intense around me as I spread
My helpless arms . . . thine, thine no more
... to thee."

She spake, and, like a vapour, into air

Flew, nor beheld him as he claspt the void
And sought to speak; in vain; the ferry-
guard

Now would not row him o'er the lake again,
His wife twice lost, what could he? whither go?
What chant, what wailing, move the Powers of Hell?
Cold in the Stygian bark and lone was she.

Beneath a rock o'er Strymon's flood on high,
Seven months, seven long-continued months, 'tis said,
He breath'd his sorrows in a desert cave,

And sooth'd the tiger, moved the oak, with song.1

The Thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances. Finally, excited by the rites of Bacchus,

1 From W. S. Landor's Orpheus and Eurydice in Dry Sticks.

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