She would not believe in such a
sorrow.
"Savage Latona," she cried, lifting her arms against the heavens,
"never think that you have conquered. I am still the greater."
At that moment one of her daughters sank beside her. Diana had sped an
arrow from her bow that is like the crescent moon. Without a cry, nay,
even as they murmured words of comfort, the sisters died, one by one.
It was all as swift and soundless as snowfall.
Only the guilty mother was left, transfixed with grief. Tears flowed
from her eyes, but she spoke not a word, her heart never softened; and
at last she turned to stone, and the tears flowed down her cold face
forever.
ADMETUS AND THE SHEPHERD.
Apollo did not live always free of care, though he was the most
glorious of the gods. One day, in anger with the Cyclopes who work at
the forges of Vulcan, he sent his arrows after them, to the wrath of
all the gods, but especially of Zeus. (For the Cyclopes always make his
thunderbolts, and make them well.) Even the divine archer could not go
unpunished, and as a penalty he was sent to serve some mortal for a
year. Some say one year and some say nine, but in those days time
passed quickly; and as for the gods, they took no heed of it.
Now there was a certain king in Thessaly, Admetus by name, and there
came to him one day a stranger, who asked leave to serve about the
palace. None knew his name, but he was very comely, and moreover, when
they questioned him he said that he had come from a position of high
trust.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43