ASKLEPIOS.
On the shores of the Lake Boibeis, the golden-haired Apollo saw and loved Koronis, the beautiful daughter of Phlegyas. Many a time they wandered beneath the branching elms while the dew-drops glistened like jewels on the leaves, or sat beneath the ivy bowers as the light of evening faded from the sky and the blue veil of mist fell upon the sleeping hills. But at length the day came when Apollo must journey to the western land, and as he held Koronis in his arms, his voice fell softly and sadly on her ear. "I go," he said, "to a land that is very far off, but surely I will return. More precious to me than aught else on the wide earth is thy love, Koronis. Let not its flower fade, but keep it fresh and pure as now, till I come to thee again. The dancing Horai trip quickly by, Koronis, and when they bring the day on which I may clasp thee in mine arms once more, it may be that I shall find thee watching proudly over the child of our love."
He was gone, and for Koronis it seemed as though the sun had ceased to shine in the heaven. For many a day she cared not to wander by the winding shore in the light of early morning, or to rest in the myrtle bowers as the flush of evening faded from the sky. Her thoughts went back to the days that were passed, when Apollo, the golden-haired, made her glad with the music of his voice. But at length a stranger came to the Boibean land, and dwelt in the house of Phlegyas, and the spell of his glorious beauty fell upon Koronis, and dimmed the love which she had borne for Apollo, who was far away. Again for her the sun shone brightly in the heaven, and the birds filled the air with a joyous music, but the tale went swiftly through the land, and Apollo heard the evil tidings as he journeyed back with his sister, Artemis, to the house of Phlegyas. A look of sorrow that may not be told passed over his fair face; but Artemis stretched forth her hand towards the flashing sun and swore that the maiden should rue her fickleness. Soon, on the shore of the Lake Boibeis, Koronis lay smitten by the spear which may never miss its mark, and her child, Asklepios, lay a helpless babe by her side. Then the voice of Apollo was heard saying, "Slay not the child with the mother, he is born to do great things, but bear him to the wise centaur, Cheiron, and bid him train the boy in all his wisdom, and teach him to do brave deeds, that men may praise his name in the generations that shall be hereafter."
So in the deep glens of Pelion the child, Asklepios, grew up to manhood under the teaching of Cheiron, the wise and good. In all the land there was none that might vie with him in strength of body; but the people marveled yet more at his wisdom, which passed the wisdom of the sons of men, for he had learned the power of every herb and leaf to stay the pangs of sickness and bring back health to the wasted form. Day by day the fame of his doings was spread abroad more widely through the land, so that all who were sick hastened to Asklepios and besought his help. But soon there went forth a rumor that the strength of death had been conquered by him, and that Athene, the mighty daughter of Zeus, had taught Asklepios how to bring back the dead from the dark kingdom of Hades. Then, as the number of those whom he brought from the gloomy Stygian land increased more and more, Hades went in hot anger to Olympos, and spoke bitter words against the son of Koronis, so that the heart of Zeus was stirred with a great fear lest the children of men should be delivered from death and defy the power of the gods. Then Zeus bowed his head, and the lightnings flashed from heaven, and Asklepios was smitten down by the scathing thunderbolt.
Mighty and terrible was the grief that stirred the soul of the golden-haired Apollo when his son was slain. The sun shone dimly from the heaven; the birds were silent in the darkened groves; the trees bowed down their heads in sorrow, and the hearts of all the sons of men fainted within them, because the healer of their pains and sickness lived no more upon the earth. But the wrath of Apollo was mightier than his grief, and he smote the giant Cyclopes, who shaped the fiery lightnings far down in the depths of the burning mountain. Then the anger of Zeus was kindled against his own child, the golden-haired Apollo, and he spake the word that he should be banished from the home of the gods to the dark Stygian land. But the lady Leto fell at his knees and besought him for her child, and the doom was given that a whole year long he should serve as a bondsman in the house of Admetos, who ruled in Pherai.
IXION.
Fair as the blushing clouds which float in early morning across the blue heaven, the beautiful Dia gladdened the hearts of all who dwelt in the house of her father Hesioneus. There was no guile in her soft clear eye, for the light of Eos was not more pure than the light of the maiden's countenance. There was no craft in her smile, for on her rested the love and the wisdom of Athene. Many a chieftain sought to win her for his bride; but her heart beat with love only for Ixion the beautiful and mighty, who came to the halls of Hesioneus with horses which can not grow old or die. The golden hair flashed a glory from his head dazzling as the rays which stream from Helios when he drives his chariot up the heights of heaven, and his flowing robe glistened as he moved like the vesture which the sun-god gave to the wise maiden Medeia, who dwelt in Kolchis.