Bulfinch's Mythology [57]
separates Asia and Europe. On the opposite shore in the town of Sestos lived the maiden Hero, a priestess of Venus. Leander loved her, and used to swim the strait nightly to enjoy the company of his mistress, guided by a torch which she reared upon the tower, for the purpose. But one night a tempest arose and the sea was rough; his strength failed, and he was drowned. The waves bore his body to the European shore, where Hero became aware of his death, and in her despair cast herself down from the tower into the sea and perished.
The following sonnet is by Keats:
"ON A PICTURE OF LEANDER
"Come hither, all sweet maidens, soberly, Down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light, Hid in the fringes of your eyelids white, And meekly let your fair hands joined be, As if so gentle that ye could not see, Untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright, Sinking away to his young spirit's night, Sinking bewilder'd 'mid the dreary sea. 'Tis young Leander toiling to his death. Nigh swooning, he doth purse his weary lips For Hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile. Oh, horrid dream! See how his body dips Dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile; He's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!"
The story of Leander's swimming the Hellespont was looked upon as fabulous, and the feat considered impossible, till Lord Byron proved its possibility by performing it himself. In the Bride of Abydos he says,
"These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne."
The distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile, and there is a constant current setting out from the Sea of Marmora into the Archipelago. Since Byron's time the feat has been achieved by others; but it yet remains a test of strength and skill in the art of swimming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to any one of our readers who may dare to make the attempt and succeed in accomplishing it.
In the beginning of the second canto of the same poem, Byron alludes to this story:
"The winds are high on Helle's wave, As on that night of stormiest water, When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave, The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter. Oh, when alone along the sky The turret-torch was blazing high, Though rising gale and breaking foam, And shrieking sea-birds warned him home; And clouds aloft and tides below, With signs and sounds forbade to go, He could not see, he would not hear Or sound or sight foreboding fear. His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hailed above; His ear but rang with Hero's song, 'Ye waves, divide not lovers long.' That tale is old, but love anew May nerve young hearts to prove as true."
The subject has been a favorite one with sculptors.
Schiller has made one of his finest ballads from the tragic fate of the two lovers. The following verses are a translation from the latter part of the ballad:
"Upon Hellespont's broad currents Night broods black, and rain in torrents >From the cloud's full bosom pours; Lightnings in the sky are flashing, All the storms below are dashing On the crag-piled shores. Awful chasms gaping widely, Separate the mountain waves; Ocean yawning as to open Downward e'en to Pluto's caves."
After the storm has arisen, Hero sees the danger, and cries,
"Woe, ah! Woe; great Jove have pity, Listen to my sad entreaty, Yet for what can Hero pray? Should the gods in pity listen, He, e'en now the false abyss in, Struggles with the tempest's spray. All the birds that skim the wave In hasty flight are hieing home; T the lee of safer haven All the storm-tossed vessels come.
"Ah! I know he laughs at danger, Dares again the frequent venture, Lured by an almighty power; For he swore it when we parted, With the vow which binds true-hearted Lovers to the latest hour. Yes! Even as this moment hastens Battles he the wave-crests rude, And to their unfathomed chasms Dags him down the angry flood.
"Pontus false! Thy sunny smile Was the lying traitor's guile, Like a mirror flashing there: All thy ripples gently playing Til they triumphed in betraying Him into thy lying snare. Now
The following sonnet is by Keats:
"ON A PICTURE OF LEANDER
"Come hither, all sweet maidens, soberly, Down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light, Hid in the fringes of your eyelids white, And meekly let your fair hands joined be, As if so gentle that ye could not see, Untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright, Sinking away to his young spirit's night, Sinking bewilder'd 'mid the dreary sea. 'Tis young Leander toiling to his death. Nigh swooning, he doth purse his weary lips For Hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile. Oh, horrid dream! See how his body dips Dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile; He's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!"
The story of Leander's swimming the Hellespont was looked upon as fabulous, and the feat considered impossible, till Lord Byron proved its possibility by performing it himself. In the Bride of Abydos he says,
"These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne."
The distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile, and there is a constant current setting out from the Sea of Marmora into the Archipelago. Since Byron's time the feat has been achieved by others; but it yet remains a test of strength and skill in the art of swimming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to any one of our readers who may dare to make the attempt and succeed in accomplishing it.
In the beginning of the second canto of the same poem, Byron alludes to this story:
"The winds are high on Helle's wave, As on that night of stormiest water, When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave, The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter. Oh, when alone along the sky The turret-torch was blazing high, Though rising gale and breaking foam, And shrieking sea-birds warned him home; And clouds aloft and tides below, With signs and sounds forbade to go, He could not see, he would not hear Or sound or sight foreboding fear. His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hailed above; His ear but rang with Hero's song, 'Ye waves, divide not lovers long.' That tale is old, but love anew May nerve young hearts to prove as true."
The subject has been a favorite one with sculptors.
Schiller has made one of his finest ballads from the tragic fate of the two lovers. The following verses are a translation from the latter part of the ballad:
"Upon Hellespont's broad currents Night broods black, and rain in torrents >From the cloud's full bosom pours; Lightnings in the sky are flashing, All the storms below are dashing On the crag-piled shores. Awful chasms gaping widely, Separate the mountain waves; Ocean yawning as to open Downward e'en to Pluto's caves."
After the storm has arisen, Hero sees the danger, and cries,
"Woe, ah! Woe; great Jove have pity, Listen to my sad entreaty, Yet for what can Hero pray? Should the gods in pity listen, He, e'en now the false abyss in, Struggles with the tempest's spray. All the birds that skim the wave In hasty flight are hieing home; T the lee of safer haven All the storm-tossed vessels come.
"Ah! I know he laughs at danger, Dares again the frequent venture, Lured by an almighty power; For he swore it when we parted, With the vow which binds true-hearted Lovers to the latest hour. Yes! Even as this moment hastens Battles he the wave-crests rude, And to their unfathomed chasms Dags him down the angry flood.
"Pontus false! Thy sunny smile Was the lying traitor's guile, Like a mirror flashing there: All thy ripples gently playing Til they triumphed in betraying Him into thy lying snare. Now