Hero Tales

"When I was younger than I am to-day," said the old chief, as they sat one evening in the light of theblazing brands-"when I was much younger than now, it was my fortune to take part in the mostfamous boar hunt the world has ever known."There lived at that time, in Calydon, a mighty chief named Oineus-and, indeed, I know not butthat he still lives. Oineus was rich in vineyards and in orchards, and no other man in all Greece washappier or more blessed than he. He had married, early in life, the Princess Althea, fairest of themaidens of Acarnania; and to them a son had been born, golden-haired and beautiful, whom theycalled Meleager."When Meleager was yet but one day old, his father held him in his arms, and prayed to Zeus andthe mighty powers above: 'Grant, Father Zeus, and all ye deathless ones, that this my son may be theforemost among the men of Greece. And let it come to pass, that when they see his valiant deeds, his countrymen shall say, "Behold, this youth is greater than his father," and all of one accord shallhail him as their guardian king.'"Then his mother, Althea, weeping tears of joy, prayed that the boy might grow up to be pureminded and gentle, the hope and pride of his parents, and the delight and staff of their decliningyears."Scarcely had the words of prayer died from her lips, when there came into her chamber the threeunerring Fates who spin the destinies of men. White-robed and garlanded, they stood beside thebabe, and with unwearied fingers drew out the lines of his untried life. Clotho held the golden distaffin her hand, and twirled and twisted the delicate thread. Lachesis, now sad, now hopeful, with herlong white fingers held the hour-glass, and framed her lips to say, 'It is enough.' And Atropos, blindand unpitying as the future always is, stood ready, with cruel shears, to clip the twist in twain. Busilyand silently Clotho spun; and the golden thread, thin as a spider's web, yet beautiful as a sunbeam, grew longer and more golden between her skilful fingers. Then Lachesis cried out, 'It is finished!'But Atropos hid her shears beneath her mantle, and said, 'Not so. Behold, there is a brand burningupon the hearth. Wait until it is all burned into ashes and smoke, and then I will cut the thread ofthe child's life. Spin on, sweet Clotho