Bulfinch's Mythology: The Age of Fable

Ch. 11: Golden Fleece, Medea,The Calydonian Hunt

In very ancient times there lived in Thessaly a king and queen

named Athamas and Nephele. They had two children, a boy and a

girl. After a time Athamas grew indifferent to his wife, put her

away, and took another. Nephele suspected danger to her children

from the influence of the step-mother, and took measures to send

them out of her reach. Mercury assisted her, and gave her a ram,

with a GOLDEN FLEECE, on which she set the two children, trusting

that the ram would convey them to a place of safety. The ram

sprung into the air with the children on his back, taking his

course to the east, till when crossing the strait that divides

Europe and Asia, the girl, whose name was Helle, fell from his

back into the sea, which from her was called the Hellespont,

now the Dardanelles. The ram continued his career till he

reached the kingdom of Colchis, on the eastern shore of the Black

Sea, where he safely landed the boy Phyrxus, who was hospitably

received by AEetes, the king of the country. Phryxus sacrificed

the ram to Jupiter, and gave the golden fleece to AEetes, who

placed it in a consecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless

dragon.

There was another kingdom in Thessaly near to that of Athamas,

and ruled over by a relative of his. The king AEson, being tired

of the cares of government, surrendered his crown to his brother

Pelias, on condition that he should hold it only during the

minority of Jason, the son of AEson. When Jason was grown up and

came to demand the crown from his uncle, Pelias pretended to be

willing to yield it, but at the same time suggested to the young

man the glorious adventure of going in quest of the golden

fleece, which it was well known was in the kingdom of Colchis,

and was, as Pelias pretended, the rightful property of their

family. Jason was pleased with the thought, and forthwith made

preparations for the expedition. At that time the only species

of navigation known to the Greeks consisted of small boats or

canoes hollowed out from trunks of trees, so that when Jason

employed Argus to build him a vessel capable of containing fifty

men, it was considered a gigantic undertaking. It was

accomplished, however, and the vessel was named the Argo, from

the name of the builder. Jason sent his invitation to all the

adventurous young men of Greece, and soon found himself at the

head of a band of bold youths, many of whom afterwards were

renowned among the heroes and demigods of Greece. Hercules,

Theseus, Orpheus, and Nestor were among them. They are called

the Argonauts, from the name of their vessel.

The Argo with her crew of heroes left the shores of Thessaly and

having touched at the Island of Lemnos, thence crossed to Mysia

and thence to Thrace. Here they found the sage Phineus, and from

him received instruction as to their future course. It seems the

entrance of the Euxine Sea was impeded by two small rocky

islands, which floated on the surface, and in their tossings and

heavings occasionally came together, crushing and grinding to

atoms any object that might be caught between them. They were

called the Symplegades, or Clashing Islands. Phineus instructed

the Argonauts how to pass this dangerous strait. When they

reached the islands they let go a dove, which took her way

between the rocks, and passed in safety, only losing some

feathers of her tail. Jason and his men seized the favorable

moment of the rebound, plied their oars with vigor, and passed

safe through, though the islands closed behind them, and actually

grazed their stern. They now rowed along the shore till they

arrived at the eastern end of the sea, and landed at the kingdom

of Colchis.

Jason made known his message to the Colchian king, AEetes, who

consented to give up the golden fleece if Jason would yoke to the

plough two fire-breathing bulls with brazen feet, and sow the

teeth of the dragon, which Cadmus had slain, and from which it

was well known that a crop of armed men would spring up, who

would turn their weapons against their producer. Jason accepted

the conditions, and a time was set for making the experiment.

Previously, however, he found means to plead his cause to Medea,

daughter of the king. He promised her marriage, and as they

stood before the altar of Hecate, called the goddess to witness

his oath. Medea yielded and by her aid, for she was a potent

sorceress, he was furnished with a charm, by which he could

encounter safely the breath of the fire-breathing bulls and the

weapons of the armed men.

At the time appointed, the people assembled at the grove of Mars,

and the king assumed his royal seat, while the multitude covered

the hill-sides. The brazen-footed bulls rushed in, breathing

fire from their nostrils, that burned up the herbage as they

passed. The sound was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke

like that of water upon quick-lime. Jason advanced boldly to

meet them. His friends, the chosen heroes of Greece, trembled to

behold him. Regardless of the burning breath, he soothed their

rage with his voice, patted their necks with fearless hands, and

adroitly slipped over them the yoke, and compelled them to drag

the plough. The Colchians were amazed; the Greeks shouted for

joy. Jason next proceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and plough

them in. And soon the crop of armed men sprang up, and wonderful

to relate! no sooner had they reached the surface than they began

to brandish their weapons and rush upon Jason. The Greeks

trembled for their hero, and even she who had provided him a way

of safety and taught him how to use it, Medea herself, grew pale

with fear. Jason for a time kept his assailants at bay with his

sword and shield, till finding their numbers overwhelming, he

resorted to the charm which Medea had taught him, seized a stone

and threw it in the midst of his foes. They immediately turned

their arms against one another, and soon there was not one of the

dragon's brood left alive. The Greeks embraced their hero, and

Medea, if she dared, would have embraced him too.

Then AEetes promised the next day to give them the fleece, and

the Greeks went joyfully down to the Argo with the hero Jason in

their midst. But that night Medea came down to Jason, and bade

him make haste and follow her, for that her father proposed the

next morning to attack the Argonauts and to destroy their ship.

They went together to the grove of Mars, where the golden fleece

hung guarded by the dreadful dragon, who glared at the hero and

his conductor with his great round eyes that never slept. But

Medea was prepared, and began her magic songs and spells, and

sprinkled over him a sleeping potion which she had prepared by

her art. At the smell he relaxed his rage, stood for a moment

motionless, then shut those great round eyes, that had never been

known to shut before, and turned over on his side, fast asleep.

Jason seized the fleece, and with his friends and Medea

accompanying, hastened to their vessel, before AEETES, the king,

could arrest their departure, and made the best of their way back

to Thessaly, where they arrived safe, and Jason delivered the

fleece to Pelias, and dedicated the Argo to Neptune. What became

of the fleece afterwards we do not know, but perhaps it was

found, after all, like many other golden prizes, not worth the

trouble it had cost to procure it.

This is one of those mythological tales, says a modern writer, in

which there is reason to believe that a substratum of truth

exists, though overlaid by a mass of fiction. It probably was

the first important maritime expedition, and like the first

attempts of the kind of all nations, as we know from history, was

probably of a half-piratical character. If rich spoils were the

result, it was enough to give rise to the idea of the golden

fleece.

Another suggestion of a learned mythologist, Bryant, is that it

is a corrupt tradition of the story of Noah and the ark. The

name Argo seems to countenance this, and the incident of the dove

is another confirmation.

Pope, in his Ode on St. Cecelia's Day, thus celebrates the

launching of the ship Argo, and the power of the music of

Orpheus, whom he calls the Thracian:

"So when the first bold vessel dared the seas,

High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain,

While Argo saw her kindred trees

Descend from Pelion to the main.

Transported demigods stood round,

And men grew heroes at the sound."

In Dyer's poem of The Fleece there is an account of the ship Argo

and her crew, which gives a good picture of this primitive

maritime adventure:

"From every region of Aegea's shore

The brave assembled; those illustrious twins,

Castor and Pollux; Orpheus, tuneful bard;

Zetes and Calais, as the wind in speed;

Strong Hercules and many a chief renowned.

On deep Iolcos' sandy shore they thronged,

Gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits;

And soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone

Uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark;

Whose keel of wondrous length the skilful hand

Of Argus fashioned for the proud attempt;

And in the extended keel a lofty mast

Upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs

Unwonted objects. Now first, now they learned

Their bolder steerage over ocean wave,

Led by the golden stars, as Chiron's art

Had marked the sphere celestial."

Hercules left the expedition at Mysia, for Hylas, a youth beloved

by him, having gone for water, was laid hold of and kept by the

nymphs of the spring, who were fascinated by his beauty.

Hercules went in quest of the lad, and while he was absent the

Argo put to sea and left him. Moore, in one of his songs, makes

a beautiful allusion to this incident:

"When Hylas was sent with his urn to the fount,

Through fields full of light and with heart full of play,

Light rambled the boy over meadow and mount,

And neglected his task for the flowers in the way.

"Thus many like me, who in youth should have tasted

The fountain that runs by Philosophy's shrine,

Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted,

And left their light urns all as empty as mine."

But Hercules, as some say, went onward to Colchis by land, and

there performed many mighty deeds, and wiped away the stain of

cowardice which might have clung to him.

MEDEA AND AESON

Amid the rejoicings for the recovery of the golden Fleece, Jason

felt that one thing was wanting, the presence of AESON, his

father, who was prevented by his age and infirmities from taking

part in them. Jason said to Medea, "My wife, I would that your

arts, whose power I have seen so mighty for my aid, could do me

one further service, and take some years from my life to add them

to my father's." Medea replied, "Not at such a cost shall it be

done, but if my art avails me, his life shall be lengthened

without abridging yours." The next full moon she issued forth

alone, while all creatures slept; not a breath stirred the

foliage, and all was still. To the stars she addressed her

incantations, and to the moon; to Hecate (Hecate was a mysterious

divinity sometimes identified with Diana and sometimes with

Proserpine. As Diana represents the moonlight splendor of night,

so Hecate represents its darkness and terrors. She was the

goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by

night along the earth, seen only by the dogs whose barking told

her approach.), the goddess of the underworld, and to Tellus, the

goddess of the earth, by whose power plants potent for

enchantments are produced. She invoked the gods of the woods and

caverns, of mountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers, of winds

and vapors. While she spoke the stars shone brighter, and

presently a chariot descended through the air, drawn by flying

serpents. She ascended it, and, borne aloft, made her way to

distant regions, where potent plants grew which she knew how to

select for her purpose. Nine nights she employed in her search,

and during that time came not within the doors of her palace nor

under any roof, and shunned all intercourse with mortals.

She next erected two altars, the one to Hecate, the other to

Hebe, the goddess of youth, and sacrificed a black sheep, pouring

libations of milk and wine. She implored Pluto and his stolen

bride that they would not hasten to take the old man's life.

Then she directed that AESON should be led forth, and having

thrown him into a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed of

herbs, like one dead. Jason and all others were kept away from

the place, that no profane eyes might look upon her mysteries.

Then, with streaming hair, she thrice moved round the altars,

dipped flaming twigs in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn.

Meanwhile the caldron with its contents was got ready. In it she

put magic herbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid juice, stones

from the distant East, and sand from the shore of all-surrounding

ocean; hoar frost, gathered by moonlight, a screech-owl's head

and wings, and the entrails of a wolf. She added fragments of

the shells of tortoises, and the liver of stags, animals

tenacious of life, and the head and beak of a crow, that

outlives nine generations of men. These, with many other things

without a name, she boiled together for her purposed work,

stirring them up with a dry olive branch; and behold, the branch

when taken out instantly became green, and before long was

covered with leaves and a plentiful growth of young olives; and

as the liquor boiled and bubbled, and sometimes ran over, the

grass, wherever the sprinklings fell, shot forth with a verdure

like that of spring.

Seeing that all was ready, Medea cut the throat of the old man

and let out all his blood, and poured into his mouth and into his

wound the juices of her caldron. As soon as he had completely

imbibed them, his hair and beard laid by their whiteness and

assumed the blackness of youth; his paleness and emaciation were

gone; his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor and

robustness. AESON is amazed at himself, and remembers that such

as he now is he was in his youthful days, forty years before.

Medea used her arts here for a good purpose, but not so in

another instance, where she made them the instruments of revenge.

Pelias, our readers will recollect, was the usurping uncle of

Jason, and had kept him out of his kingdom. Yet he must have had

some good qualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they

saw what Medea had done for AESON, they wished her to do the same

for their father. Medea pretended to consent, and prepared her

caldron as before. At her request an old sheep was brought and

plunged into the caldron. Very soon a bleating was heard in the

kettle, and, when the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth and

ran frisking away into the meadow. The daughters of Pelias saw

the experiment with delight, and appointed a time for their

father to undergo the same operation. But Medea prepared her

caldron for him in a very different way. She put in only water

and a few simple herbs. In the night she with the sisters

entered the bed-chamber of the old king, while he and his guards

slept soundly under the influence of a spell cast upon them by

Medea. The daughters stood by the bedside with their weapons

drawn, but hesitated to strike, till Medea chid their

irresolution. Then, turning away their faces and giving random

blows, they smote him with their weapons. He, starting from his

sleep, cried out, "My daughters, what are you doing? Will you

kill your father?:" Their hearts failed them, and the weapons

fell from their hands, but Medea struck him a fatal blow, and

prevented his saying more.

Then they placed him in the caldron, and Medea hastened to depart

in her serpent-drawn chariot before they discovered her

treachery, for their vengeance would have been terrible. She

escaped, however, but had little enjoyment of the fruits of her

crime. Jason, for whom she had done so much, wishing to marry

Creusa, princess of Corinth, put away Medea. She, enraged at his

ingratitude, called on the gods for vengeance, sent a poisoned

robe as a gift to the bride, and then killing her own children,

and setting fire to the palace, mounted her serpent-drawn chariot

and fled to Athens, where she married King AEgeus, the father of

Theseus; and we shall meet her again when we come to the

adventures of that hero.

The incantations of Medea will remind the reader of those of the

witches in Macbeth. The following lines are those which seem

most strikingly to recall the ancient model:

"Round about the caldron go;

In the poisoned entrails throw.

-

Fillet of a fenny snake

In the caldron boil and bake;

Eye of newt and toe of frog,

Wool of bat and tongue of dog.

Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,

Lizard's leg and howlet's wing:

-

Maw of ravening salt-sea shark,

Root of hemlock digged in the dark."

Macbeth, Act IV., Scene 1

And again:

Macbeth. What is't you do?

Witches. A deed without a name.

There is another story of Medea almost too revolting for record

even of a sorceress, a class of persons to whom both ancient and

modern poets have been accustomed to attribute every degree of

atrocity. In her flight from Colchis she had taken her young

brother Absyrtus with her. Finding the pursuing vessels of

AEETES gaining upon the Argonauts, she caused the lad to be

killed and his limbs to be strewn over the sea. AEETES on

reaching the place found these sorrowful traces of his murdered

son; but while he tarried to collect the scattered fragments and

bestow upon them an honorable interment, the Argonauts escaped.

In the poems of Campbell will be found a translation of one of

the choruses of the tragedy of Medea, where the poet Euripides

has taken advantage of the occasion to pay a glowing tribute to

Athens, his native city. It begins thus:

"Oh, haggard queen! To Athens dost thou guide

Thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore;

Or seek to hide thy damned parricide

Where Peace and Justice dwell for evermore?"

THE CALYDONIAN HUNT. MELEAGER AND ATALANTA

The search for the Golden Fleece was undertaken by Jason, aided

by heroes from all Greece, or Hellas as it was then called. It

was the first of their common undertakings which made the Greeks

feel that they were in truth one nation, though split up into

many small kingdoms. Another of their great gatherings was for

the Calydonian Hunt, and another, the greatest and most famous of

all, for the Trojan War.

The hero of the quest for the golden Fleece was Jason. With the

other heroes of the Greeks, he was present at the Calydonian

Hunt. But the chief hero was Meleager, the son of OEneus, king

of Calydon, and Althea, his queen.

Althea, when her son was born, beheld the three Destinies, who,

as they spun their fatal thread, foretold that the life of the

child should last no longer than a brand then burning upon the

hearth. Althea seized and quenched the brand, and carefully

preserved it for years, while Meleager grew to boyhood, youth,

and manhood. It chanced, then, that OEneus, as he offered

sacrifices to the gods, omitted to pay due honors to Diana, and

she, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild boar of enormous size

to lay waste the files of Calydon. Its eyes shone with blood and

fire, its bristles stood like threatening spears, its tusks were

like those of Indian elephants. The growing corn was trampled,

the vines and olive trees laid waste, the flocks and herds were

driven in wild confusion by the slaughtering foe. All common aid

seemed vain; but Meleager called on the heroes of Greece to join

in a bold hunt for the ravenous monster. Theseus and his friend

Pirithous, Jason, Peleus afterwards the father of Achilles,

Telamon the father of Ajax, Nestor, then a youth, but who in his

age bore arms with Achilles and Ajax in the Trojan war, these

and many more joined in the enterprise. With them came Atalanta,

the daughter of Iasius, king of Arcadia. A buckle of polished

gold confined her vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left

shoulder, and her left hand bore the bow. Her face blent

feminine beauty with the best graces of martial youth. Meleager

saw and loved.

But now already they were near the monster's lair. They

stretched strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their

dogs, they tried to find the footprints of their quarry in the

grass. From the wood was a descent to marshy ground. Here the

boar, as he lay among the reeds, heard the shouts of his

pursuers, and rushed forth against them. One and another is

thrown down and slain. Jason throws his spear with a prayer to

Diana for success; and the favoring goddess allows the weapon to

touch, but not to wound, removing the steel point of the spear

even in its flight. Nestor, assailed, seeks and finds safety in

the branches of a tree. Telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a

projecting root, falls prone. But an arrow from Atalanta at

length for the first time tastes the monster's blood. It is a

slight wound, but Meleager sees and joyfully proclaims it.

Anceus, excited to envy by the praise given to a female, loudly

proclaims his own valor, and defies alike the boar and the

goddess who had sent it; but as he rushes on, the infuriated

beast lays him low with a mortal wound. Theseus throws his

lance, but it is turned aside by a projecting bough. The dart of

Jason misses its object, and kills instead one of their own dogs.

But Meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear

into the monsters side, then rushes on and despatches him with

repeated blows.

Then rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the

conqueror, crowding to touch his hand. He, placing his foot upon

the slain boar, turned to Atalanta and bestowed on her the head

and the rough hide which were the trophies of his success. But

at this, envy excited the rest to strife. Phlexippus and Toxeus,

the uncles of Meleager and Althea's brothers, beyond the rest

opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she had

received. Meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done to

himself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom he

loved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into

the offenders' hearts.

As Althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for the

victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met her

sight. She shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change

the garments of rejoicing for those of mourning. But when the

author of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire

of vengeance on her son. The fatal brand, which once she rescued

from the flames, the brand which the Destinies had linked with

Meleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to be

prepared. Then four times she essays to place the brand upon the

pile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of

bringing destruction on her son. The feelings of the mother and

the sister contend within her. Now she is pale at the thought of

the purposed deed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her

son. As a vessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in

the opposite by the tide, the mind of Althea hangs suspended in

uncertainty. But now the sister prevails above the mother, and

she begins as she holds the fatal wood: "Turn, ye Furies,

goddesses of punishment! Turn to behold the sacrifice I bring!

Crime must atone for crime. Shall OEneus rejoice in his victor

son, while the house of Thestius (Thestius was father of Toxeus,

Phlexippus and Althea) is desolate? But, alas! To what deed am I

borne along? Brothers, forgive a mother's weakness! My hand

fails me. He deserves death, but not that I should destroy him.

But shall he then live, and triumph, and reign over Calydon,

while you, my brothers, wander unavenged among the shades? No!

Thou has lived by my gift; die, now, for thine own crime. Return

the life which twice I gave thee, first at thy birth, again when

I snatched this brand from the flames. O that thou hadst then

died! Alas! Evil is the conquest; but, brothers, ye have

conquered." And, turning away her face, she threw the fatal wood

upon the burning pile.

It gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. Meleager, absent and

unknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang. He burns and only by

courageous pride conquers the pain which destroys him. He mourns

only that he perishes by a bloodless and unhonored death. With

his last breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and

his fond sisters, upon his beloved Atalanta, and upon his mother,

the unknown cause of his fate. The flames increase, and with

them the pain of the hero. Now both subside; now both are

quenched. The brand is ashes and the life of Meleager is

breathed forth to the wandering winds.

Althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself.

The sisters of Meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollable

grief; till Diana, pitying the sorrows of the house that once had

aroused her anger, turned them into birds.

ATALANTA

The innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face you

might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy.

Her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: "Atalanta,

do not marry; marriage will be your ruin." Terrified by this

oracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the

sports of the chase. To all suitors (for she had many) she

imposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving

her of their persecutions: "I will be the prize of him 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. Hippomenes was to be judge of the race. "Can it be

possible that any will be so rash as to risk so much for a wife?"

said he. But when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he

changed his mind, and said, "Pardon me, youths, I knew not the

prize you were competing for." As he surveyed them he wished them

all to be beaten, and swelled with envy of any one that seemed at

all likely to win. While such were his thoughts, the virgin

darted forward. As she ran, she looked more beautiful than ever.

The breezes seemed to give 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. All her competitors were

distanced, and were put to death without mercy. Hippomenes, not

daunted by this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "Why

boast of beating those laggards? I offer myself for the

contest." Atalanta looked at him with a pitying countenance, and

hardly knew whether she would rather conquer him or not. "What

god can tempt one so young and handsome to throw himself away? I

pity him, not for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his

youth. I wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so

mad, I hope he may outrun me." While she hesitates, revolving

these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient for the race, and

her father prompts her to prepare. Then Hippomenes addressed a

prayer to Venus; "Help me, Venus, for you have led me on" Venus

heard, and was propitious.

In the garden of her temple, in her own island of Cyprus, is a

tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches, and golden fruit.

Hence Venus gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by all

else, gave them to Hippomenes, and told him how to use them. The

signal is given; each starts from the goal, and skims over the

sand. So light their tread, you would almost have thought they

might run over the river surface or over the waving grain without

sinking. The cries of the spectators cheered on Hippomenes:

"Now, now do your best! Haste, haste! You gain on her! Relax

not! One more effort!" It was doubtful whether the youth or the

maiden heard these cries with the greater pleasure. But his

breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far

off. At that moment he threw down one of the golden apples. The

virgin was all amazement. She stopped to pick it up. Hippomenes

shot ahead. Shouts burst forth from all sides. She redoubled

her efforts, and soon overtook him. Again he threw an apple.

She stopped again, but again came up with him. The goal was

near; one chance only remained. "Now, goddess," said he,

"prosper your gift!" and threw the last apple off at one side.

She looked at it, and hesitated; Venus impelled her to turn aside

for it. She did so, and was vanquished. The youth carried off

his prize.

But the lovers were so full of their own happiness that they

forgot to pay due honor to Venus; and the goddess was provoked at

their ingratitude. She caused them to give offence to Cybele.

That powerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity. She

took from them their human form and turned them into animals of

characters resembling their own: of the huntress-heroine,

triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and of

her lord and master a lion, and yoked them to her ear, there they

are still to be seen in all representations, in statuary or

painting, of the goddess Cybele.

Cybele is the Latin name of the goddess called by the Greeks Rhea

and Ops. She was the wife of Cronos and mother of Zeus. In

works of art, she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes

Juno and Ceres. Sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne

with lions at her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn

by lions. She sometimes wears a mural crown, that is, a crown

whose rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements. Her

priests were called Corybantes.

Byron in describing the city of Venice, which is built on a low

island in the Adriatic Sea, borrows an illustration from Cybele:

"She looks a sea-Cybele fresh from ocean,

Rising with her tiara of proud towers

At airy distance, with majestic motion,

A ruler of the waters and their powers."

Childe Harold, IV

In Moore's Rhymes on the Road, the poet, speaking of Alpine

scenery, alludes to the story of Atalanta and Hippomenes, thus:

"Even here, in this region of wonders, I find

That light-footed Fancy leaves Truth far behind,

Or at least, like Hippomenes, turns her astray

By the golden illusions he flings in her way."