Only then she
paused, praying her friends, the water-nymphs, for some way of escape.
The gentle, bewildered creatures, looking up through the water, could
think of but one device.
Just as the god overtook Syrinx and stretched out his arms to her, she
vanished like a mist, and he found himself grasping a cluster of tall
reeds. Poor Pan!
The breeze that sighed whenever he did--and oftener--shook the reeds
and made a sweet little sound,--a sudden music. Pan heard it, half
consoled.
"Is it your voice, Syrinx?" he said. "Shall we sing together?"
He bound a number of the reeds side by side; to this day, shepherds
know how. He blew across the hollow pipes and they made music!
THE JUDGMENT OF MIDAS
Pan came at length to be such a wonderful piper with his syrinx (for so
he named his flute) that he challenged Apollo to make better music if
he could. Now the sun-god was also the greatest of divine musicians,
and he resolved to punish the vanity of the country-god, and so
consented to the test. For judge they chose the mountain Tmolus, since
no one is so old and wise as the hills. And, since Tmolus could not
leave his home, to him went Pan and Apollo, each with his followers,
oreads and dryads, fauns, satyrs, and centaurs.
Among the worshippers of Pan was a certain Midas, who had a strange
story. Once a king of great wealth, he had chanced to befriend
Dionysus, god of the vine; and when he was asked to choose some good
gift in return, he prayed that everything he touched might be turned
into gold.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25