A long struggle took place, and after the fighting had continued about three hours Ulilangkalulua was slain. Bathala burned his body near his habitation.
Not many years after this event Galangkalulua, the wandering god, happened to find Bathala's house. Bathala received him and treated him kindly. Thus, they lived together for many years as true friends.
Unfortunately, Galangkalulua became sick. Bathala did not sleep day and night for taking care of his friend. When Galangkalulua was about to die, he called Bathala and said, "You have been very kind to me, and I have nothing to repay your kindness with. But if you will do what I tell you, there is a way in which I can benefit you. You once told me that you had planned to create creatures of the same appearance as you in order that you might have subjects and companions, and that you had not been successful because you did not know how you could supply them with all the necessary things. Now, when I die, bury my body in Ulilangkalulua's grave. In this grave will appear the thing that will satisfy you."
Bathala did what Galangkalulua told him, and Galangkalulua's promise was fulfilled. From the grave grew a plant, whose nut contained water and meat. Bathala was very anxious to examine the different parts of the tree because he had never seen such a thing before. He took a nut and husked it. He found that its inner skin was hard and that the nut itself resembled the head of his friend, Galangkalulua. It had two eyes, a flat nose, and a round mouth. Bathala then looked at the tree itself and discovered that its leaves were really the wings of Galangkalulua and its trunk the body of his enemy, Ulilangkalulua.
Bathala was now free to carry out his plan. He created the first man and woman. He built a house for them, the roof and walls of which were made of the leaves of the cocoanut and the posts of which were cocoanut tree trunks. Thus lived happily under the cocoanut palm this couple for many years until the whole world was crowded with their children. These children still use the cocoanut for food and clothing—the leaves for making mats, hats, and brooms, and the fiber for rope and other things.
—Manuel Reyes.
ORIGINAL MYTH
The Lotus
Long ago, when the world was young, the Nile loved a maiden. She was Isis, daughter of a hundred stars, who, as she nightly climbed the dark pinnacle of cloud, drew her silver drapery across the stream's dark bosom. Many were the sighs he breathed throughout the long nights—but Isis heard him not; for the wind had told her of Osiris, Osiris the beautiful, the well-beloved, who daily waked the dreaming earth with his warm kiss. And afterwards Mira, the great Star-Mother, bending from her gleaming throne, had spoken of Osiris and his glittering steeds, while Isis listening, yearned for him whom she had never seen, whose radiance was brighter even than that of Nefra-the-fire-bearer, who, once in a century, flashed through the still heavens. So Isis heeded not the Nile, moaning at her feet, for her eyes were ever bent on the rim of the world, whence would come in rosy haste the heralds of Osiris.
But one morning, when the starry sisters were fleeing, one by one, to the silent underworld, Isis stayed in the dark cloudland. The night winds called her to hasten, but she heard them not, and stood waiting—while above the eastern horizon rose the Hours, streaking the heavens with their amber veils, and borne along behind them, Osiris himself, more radiant than her dreams. But Osiris, glad in the greetings of the jubilant earth, saw only a star-maiden lingering in her pale robes on the borders of the forbidden Kingdom. Catching up a barbed shaft, he hurled it shrieking through the air—and Isis fell.