Dionysus smiled a little when he heard this foolish prayer,
but he granted it. Within two days, King Midas learned the secret of
that smile, and begged the god to take away the gift that was a curse.
He had touched everything that belonged to him, and little joy did he
have of his possessions! His palace was as yellow a home as a dandelion
to a bee, but not half so sweet. Row upon row of stiff golden trees
stood in his garden; they no longer knew a breeze when they heard it.
When he sat down to eat, his feast turned to treasure uneatable. He
learned that a king may starve, and he came to see that gold cannot
replace the live, warm gifts of the Earth. Kindly Dionysus took back
the charm, but from that day King Midas so hated gold that he chose to
live far from luxury, among the woods and fields. Even here he was not
to go free from misadventure.
Tmolus gave the word, and Pan uprose with his syrinx, and blew upon the
reeds a melody so wild and yet so coaxing that the squirrels came, as
if at a call, and the birds hopped down in rows. The trees swayed with
a longing to dance, and the fauns looked at one another and laughed for
joy. To their furry little ears, it was the sweetest music that could
be.
But Tmolus bowed before Apollo, and the sun-god rose with his golden
lyre in his hands. As he moved, light shook out of his radiant hair as
raindrops are showered from the leaves. His trailing robes were purple,
like the clouds that temper the glory of a sunset, so that one may look
upon it.
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