Children of the Dawn : Old Tales of Greece

by E. F. Buckley

At length they reached the temple on the hill and went into the chamber where Aphrodite's priestesses and maidens were to meet; and they clad her in long white robes, and put a garland on her head. When all were ready, they went and stood before the priest of the temple, and he told them in what order they should walk. First came little children, who scattered rose-leaves in the path, and behind them followed maidens, playing upon pipes, and singing the hymn to Adonis and Aphrodite. Next came the priest himself, and on either side of him two maidens walked, and held above his head great fans of peacock's plumes. After him followed the long procession of priestesses and maidens, incense-bearers, and the keepers of the sacred doves. Last of all came Hero, bearing in her hands a garland of roses and lilies to lay at the feet of the great white statue of the goddess. Each year the fairest of the maidens was chosen for this task, and in all that throng of youth and beauty there was none more fair than she. With her eyes upon the gleaming statue that shone from the dark recess above the heads of the worshipping people, she walked as one in a dream. About her the smoke of the incense rose, and to her ears the voices of the singers sounded low and far away as they sang,

"All hail to thee, Aphrodite, foam-born Queen of Love! Adonis, all hail to thee! Thou art risen—thou art risen on this joyful day. No more doth Death detain thee in his dark domain, nor Persephone enshroud thee in the mists of the sad Underworld. But thou art come back to the daylight and the flowers; and Aphrodite has dried her tears. For once more by thy side, O fairest of mortal men, she wanders through green glades and echoing caverns and by the shore of the silver sea. The joy of her love has kindled the light of summer suns, and like the west wind in the roses, her breath stirs gently in the hearts of men, and the eyes of every living thing reflect the brightness of her smile. All hail to thee. Aphrodite! Adonis and Aphrodite, all hail!"

As they sang, the choir of maidens parted this way and that, and Hero walked up between them bearing the garland in her hands. When she had laid it at the feet of the statue, the procession formed once more, and, with music and singing, they marched round the colonnade to the shrine of Adonis, and all the people followed after. Still Hero walked as one in a dream, and when the procession halted, she turned into a small recess and leant against a pillar to rest; for her part was done, and the people pressed so close about her in the aisle that she was glad to stand aside till the procession moved again. With her eyes closed, she drank in the sweet scent of the incense and flowers, and listened to the chanting of the choir, as they sang of the love of Adonis and Aphrodite. How Adonis, the beautiful shepherd, the fairest of mortal men, was loved by the Queen of Beauty, and all the long summer days they shepherded his flocks together on the shady slopes of Ida. But there came a time when the people of the country held a great hunt, and chased the wild boar through grove and dale till he was brought to bay in the greenwood; and foremost of those who rushed in to the death was Adonis. But the boar in his agony turned round upon him and pierced him in the thigh with his tusk, and wounded unto death, his followers bore him away and laid him in the shade of an oak. With a wild cry of sorrow Aphrodite came and knelt beside him, and tried to call him back to life, but his head fell limp upon her breast. The red drops of his blood were mingled with her tears, and both turned to flowers as they fell upon the ground—his blood to the crimson rose, and her tears to the pale, drooping windflower. All through the woods and the echoing hills a cry of mourning was heard, "Adonis, Adonis! O weep for Adonis! Adonis is dead." But though his spirit had crossed the gloomy river and fled to the dark halls of Hades, yet Death was not strong enough to hold him. The voice of his love and of Aphrodite's pleaded together, and heaven and earth, and the world of the dead, were moved by their prayer. Even the heart of Pluto, the black-browed god of Death, was touched, and he said that for only four months in the year must Adonis dwell beneath the earth, but for the other eight he might live his old life with Aphrodite in the sunlight. So he chose the season of the flowery spring-time to come back to his love each year, and only the cold dark months of winter did he spend in the land below. So did a great love prevail and conquer even the black lord of Death.

As Hero listened to the well-known tale, her heart was moved, and she felt that if ever she loved, her love would be as the love of Adonis and Aphrodite—stronger than death; and she sighed as she remembered how she must live lonely all her days in the tower by the sea.

As though in answer to her sigh, she felt a light touch upon her arm, and, raising her head, she found herself face to face with a young man. She was about to turn away in anger and return to her place in the procession, but the look of his eyes held her spellbound, so full of fire and yet so sad were they. For a moment she stood gazing at him, and the fire of his eyes seemed to light another in her heart and set her whole frame aglow. The hot blood rushed to her face, and she lowered her eyes in confusion, and her limbs trembled beneath her, so that she leant back against the pillar for support.

"I ask your pardon, gentle lady," said the man; "forgive my rudeness. Though thou knowest me not, I have known thee for many a long year, and day and night have I prayed the gods that I might meet thee face to face. This day Aphrodite has heard my prayer. If I have seemed presumptuous, forgive me. 'Twas the goddess nerved my arm to touch thee."

And he stood with bowed head before her, awaiting her reply.

She lowered her eyes in confusion, and her limbs trembled beneath her so that she leant back against the pillar for support.