“‘O mighty lord of the sun and of all the beauty in striving for which men are raised above the beasts that perish, grant us victory in the coming strife. I, Chares, thy worshipper, who have many times fashioned in thine honour statues which but faintly show forth my dreams of thy perfection, do make a vow before thee here, at the rising of the sun, that, if to thy people of Rhodes comes the victory we crave, I will raise to thy glory such a statue as never man yet beheld—the Wonder of the World, an everlasting sign of thy mercy, the best and last work of my hands.’
“The little temple was flooded with sunlight, and the heap of roses on the altar was glowing like a crimson fire, when Chares turned, and, seeing me beside him, laid his hand on my shoulder. We moved out of the temple, and he was just going to speak when I pointed with a cry to the horizon. Crowding sails were in sight, and Chares started. ‘They come!’ he exclaimed. ‘At what better moment than after my prayer and vow?’
“But, even before the last words were uttered, such a shout went up from the harbour and the town as to make my heart beat and set me trembling with excitement. From the house, across the lawns to the gates which led to the seashore, the soldiers came rushing, and, in a few moments, Rhodes was humming and buzzing like a hornet’s nest.
“So the famous siege of Rhodes began. You will read all about it when you are older, for it was one of the most celebrated sieges in history. To me, as to hundreds of others, it was a time which, though full of excitement, was still more full of misery and sorrow. My dear father was killed fighting bravely, and many, many of our friends.
“Months passed, and sometimes we won a victory, breaking through the enemy forces, and sometimes Demetrius, with his terrible war machines, triumphed. He had succeeded in landing on our island and was encamped on a hill near our city, while we within our walls, resisted all his efforts to break them down.
“After nine or ten months of fighting, our sailors won a splendid victory against the fleet of Demetrius, and the temples of the gods were crowded with worshippers giving thanks for our success.
“Since my father’s death, Chares had lived with me in our once beautiful house (now a barracks for the soldiers), and he and I preferred to worship in our own little private temple of Phœbus Apollo. When we left it that day, the sun was setting, and the roses, which during the war had grown in wild profusion, almost smothered the shrine, and made it look as though set in the midst of scarlet flames.
“Chares glanced back at it, and put his hand on my shoulder.
“‘Cleon,’ he said, ‘if the statue I have in mind ever rises to the honour of the god, it will be through you.’
“I was startled and impressed by his words which I did not understand. How could I, still a child, and not even allowed to fight, have anything to do with victory—if victory ever came? For we knew that Demetrius had but retired to bring fresh forces against us. I began to say something like this, but Chares paid no heed to my words.