Heathen mythology, Illustrated by extracts from the most celebrated writers, both ancient and modern. Various

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      Undeterred by this example, Pan, favourite of Midas, King of Lydia, wished also to compete with Apollo in the art of which the latter was master. Pan began the struggle, and Midas repeated his songs with enthusiasm, without paying the least attention to his celestial rival. Pan again sang, and Midas repeated; when, to his surprise, the latter felt, pressing through his hair, a pair of ears, long and shaggy. Alarmed at this phenomenon, Pan took to flight, and the prince, desolate at the loss of his favourite, made one of his attendants, some say his wife, the confidant of his misfortune, begging her not to betray his trust. The secret was too great for the bosom of its holder; she longed to tell it, but dared not, for fear of punishment; and as the only way of consoling herself, sought a retired and lonely spot, where she threw herself on the earth, whispering "King Midas has the ears of an ass, King Midas has the ears of an ass." Not long after her visit, some reeds arose in this place; and as the wind passed through them, they repeated, "King Midas has the ears of an ass." Enraged, no less than terrified, at this extraordinary occurrence, Midas sacrificed to Bacchus, who, to console, granted him the special favour of turning all that he touched into fine gold.

      "Midas the king, as in the book appears,

      By Phœbus was endowed with ass's ears,

      Which under his long locks he well concealed;

      As monarch's vices must not be revealed:

      For fear the people have them in the wind.

      Who long ago were neither dumb nor blind:

      Nor apt to think from heaven their title springs,

      Since Jove and Mars left off begetting kings.

      This Midas knew, and durst communicate,

      To none but to his wife his ears of state:

      One must be trusted, and he thought her fit,

      As passing prudent, and a parlous wit.

      To this sagacious confessor he went,

      And told her what a gift the Gods had sent:

      But told it under matrimonial seal,

      With strict injunction never to reveal.

      The secret heard, she plighted him her troth,

      (And secret sure is every woman's oath,)

      The royal malady should rest unknown,

      Both for her husband's honour and her own.

      But ne'ertheless she pined with discontent,

      The counsel rumbled till it found a vent.

      The thing she knew she was obliged to hide:

      By interest and by oath the wife was tied:

      But if she told it not the woman died.

      Loth to betray her husband and a prince,

      But she must burst or blab, and no pretence

      Of honour tied her tongue in self defence.

      The marshy ground commodiously was near,

      Thither she ran, and held her breath for fear

      Lest, if a word she spoke of any thing,

      That word might be the secret of the king.

      Thus full of council to the fen she went,

      Full all the way, and longing for a vent.

      Arrived, by pure necessity compelled,

      On her majestic marrow-bones she kneeled,

      Then to the water's brink she laid her head,

      And, as a bittern sounds within a reed,

      'To thee alone, oh! lake,' she said, 'I tell,

      And as thy queen, command thee to conceal,

      Beneath his locks, the king my husband wears

      A goodly, royal pair of ass's ears.

      Now СКАЧАТЬ