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APOLLO AND DAPHNE
Daphne was Apollo's first love. It was not brought about by
accident, but by the malice of Cupid. Apollo saw the boy playing
with his bow and arrows; and being himself elated with his recent
victory over Python, he said to him, "What have you to do with
warlike weapons, saucy boy? Leave them for hands worthy of them.
Behold the conquest I have won by means of them over the vast
serpent who stretched his poisonous body over acres of the plain!
Be content with your torch, child, and kindle up your flames, as
you call them, where you will, but presume not to meddle with my
weapons." Venus's boy heard these words, and rejoined, "Your
arrows may strike all things else, Apollo, but mine shall strike
you." So saying, he took his stand on a rock of Parnassus, and
drew from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship, one to
excite love, the other to repel it. The former was of gold and
sharp pointed, the latter blunt and tipped with lead. With the
leaden shaft he struck the nymph Daphne, the daughter of the river
god Peneus, and with the golden one Apollo, through the heart.
Forthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden, and she
abhorred the thought of loving. Her delight was in woodland sports
and in the spoils of the chase. Many lovers sought her, but she
spurned them all, ranging the woods, and taking no thought of
Cupid nor of Hymen. Her father often said to her, "Daughter, you
owe me a son-in-law; you owe me grandchildren." She, hating the
thought of marriage as a crime, with her beautiful face tinged all
over with blushes, threw arms around her father's neck, and said,
"Dearest father, grant me this favor, that I may always remain
unmarried, like Diana." He consented, but at the same time said,
"Your own face will forbid it."
Apollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he who gives
oracles to all the world was not wise enough to look into his own
fortunes. He saw her hair flung loose over her shoulders, and
said, "If so charming in disorder, what would it be if arranged?"
He saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and was not
satisfied with only seeing them. He admired her hands and arms,
naked to the shoulder, and whatever was hidden from view he
imagined more beautiful still. He followed her; she fled, swifter
than the wind, and delayed not a moment at his entreaties. "Stay,"
said he, "daughter of Peneus; I am not a foe. Do not fly me as a
lamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk. It is for love I pursue
you. You make me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurt
yourself on these stones, and I should be the cause. Pray run
slower, and I will follow slower. I am no clown, no rude peasant.
Jupiter is my father, and I am lord of Delphos and Tenedos, and
know all things, present and future. I am the god of song and the
lyre. My arrows fly true to the mark; but, alas! an arrow more
fatal than mine has pierced my heart! I am the god of medicine,
and know the virtues of all healing plants. Alas! I suffer a
malady that no balm can cure!"
The nymph continued her flight, and left his plea half uttered.
And even as she fled she charmed him. The wind blew her garments,
and her unbound hair streamed loose behind her. The god grew
impatient to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by Cupid,
gained upon her in the race. It was like a hound pursuing a hare,
with open jaws ready to seize, while the feebler animal darts
forward, slipping from the very grasp. So flew the god and the
virgin--he on the wings of love, and she on those of fear. The
pursuer is the more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and his
panting breath blows upon her hair. Her strength begins to fail,
and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father, the river god:
"Help me, Peneus! open the earth to enclose me, or change my form,
which has brought me into this danger!" Scarcely had she spoken,
when a stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to be
enclosed in a tender bark; her hair became leaves; her arms became
branches; her foot stuck fast in the ground, as a root; her face,
became a tree-top, retaining nothing of its former self but its
beauty. Apollo stood amazed. He touched the stem, and felt the
flesh tremble under the new bark. He embraced the branches, and
lavished kisses on the wood. The branches shrank from his lips.
"Since you cannot be my wife," said he, "you shall assuredly be my
tree. I will wear you for my crown; I will decorate with you my
harp and my quiver; and when the great Roman conquerors lead up
the triumphal pomp to the Capitol, you shall be woven into wreaths
for their brows. And, as eternal youth is mine, you also shall be
always green, and your leaf know no decay." The nymph, now changed
into a Laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment.
That Apollo should be the god both of music and poetry will not
appear strange, but that medicine should also be assigned to his
province, may. The poet Armstrong, himself a physician, thus
accounts for it:
"Music exalts each joy, allays each grief,
Expels diseases, softens every pain;
And hence the wise of ancient days adored
One power of physic, melody, and song."
The story of Apollo and Daphne is often alluded to by the poets.
Waller applies it to the case of one whose amatory verses, though
they did not soften the heart of his mistress, yet won for the
poet wide-spread fame:
"Yet what he sung in his immortal strain,
Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain.
All but the nymph that should redress his wrong,
Attend his passion and approve his song.
Like Phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise,
He caught at love and filled his arms with bays."
The following stanza from Shelley's "Adonais" alludes to Byron's
early quarrel with the reviewers:
"The herded wolves, bold only to pursue;
The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead;
The vultures, to the conqueror's banner true,
Who feed where Desolation first has fed,
And whose wings rain contagion: how they fled,
When like Apollo, from his golden bow,
The Pythian of the age one arrow sped
And smiled! The spoilers tempt no second blow;
They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go."
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