Bulfinch’s Mythology

Endnotes

Wordsworth. ↩
The names included in parentheses are the Greek, the others being the Roman or Latin names. ↩
This inconsistency arises from considering the Saturn of the Romans the same with the Grecian deity Cronos (Time), which, as it brings an end to all things which have had a beginning, may be said to devour its own offspring. ↩
From this origin of the instrument, the word “shell” is often used as synonymous with “lyre,” and figuratively for music and poetry. Thus Gray, in his ode on the “Progress of Poesy,” says:

“O Sovereign of the willing Soul,
Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares
And frantic Passions hear thy soft control.”

↩
There was also a goddess called Fauna, or Bona Dea. ↩
The goddess of innocence and purity. After leaving earth, she was placed among the stars, where she became the constellation Virgo⁠—the Virgin. Themis (Justice) was the mother of Astraea. She is represented as holding aloft a pair of scales, in which she weighs the claims of opposing parties.

It was a favorite idea of the old poets that these goddesses would one day return, and bring back the Golden Age. Even in a Christian hymn, the “Messiah” of Pope, this idea occurs:

“All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail,
Returning Justice lift aloft her scale,
Peace o’er the world her olive wand extend,
And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend.”

See, also, Milton’s Hymn on the Nativity, stanzas xiv and xv. ↩
Materiem superabat opus. —⁠Ovid

The workmanship surpassed the material. ↩
Facies non omnibus una,
Nec diversa tamen, qualem decet esse sororum.
—⁠Ovid

Their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike, but such as those of sisters ought to be. ↩
Medio tutissimus ibis. —⁠Ovid

You will go most safely in the middle. ↩
Hic situs est Phaëton, currus auriga paterni,
Quem si non tenuit, magnis tamen excidit ausis.
—⁠Ovid

Here lies Phaëton, the driver of his father’s chariot, which if he failed to manage, yet he fell in a great undertaking. ↩
See The Laestrygonians. ↩
It is evidently not our modern hyacinth that is here described. It is perhaps some species of iris, or perhaps of larkspur or of pansy. ↩
The sunflower. ↩
This correct description of the rainbow is literally translated from Ovid. ↩
Sir James Mackintosh says of this, “Do you think that even a Chinese could paint the gay colors of a butterfly with more minute exactness than the following lines: ‘The velvet nap,’ etc.?” —⁠Life, Vol. II, 246 ↩
Imponere Pelio Ossam. —⁠Virgil

To pile Ossa upon Pelion. ↩
Hecate was a mysterious divinity sometimes identified with Diana and sometimes with Proserpine. As Diana represents the moonlight splendor of night, so Hecate represents its darkness and terrors. She was the goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by night along the earth, seen only by the dogs, whose barking told her approach. ↩
Alcides, a name of Hercules. ↩
One of the finest pieces of sculpture in Italy, the recumbent Ariadne of the Vatican, represents this incident. A copy is owned by the Athenaeum, Boston, and deposited in the Museum of Fine Arts. ↩
Erasmus Darwin, Charles Darwin’s grandfather. [Editor] ↩
Proteus. ↩
The story of the invulnerability of Achilles is not found in Homer, and is inconsistent with his account. For how could Achilles require the aid of celestial armor if he were invulnerable. ↩
Tennyson has chosen Oenone as the subject of a short poem; but he has omitted the most poetical part of the story, the return of Paris wounded, her cruelty and subsequent repentance. ↩
Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. —⁠Virgil

I fear the Greeks even when they offer gifts. ↩
Pyrrhus’s exclamation, “Not such aid nor such defenders does the time require,” has become proverbial.

Non tali auxilio nec defensoribus istis
Tempus eget.
—⁠Virgil

Not such aid nor such defenders does the time require. ↩
Tennyson in the “Lotus-eaters” has charmingly expressed the dreamy, languid feeling which the lotus food is said to have produced.

“How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream
With half-shut eyes ever to seem
Falling asleep in a half dream!
To dream and dream, like yonder amber light
Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;
To hear each others’ whispered speech;
Eating the Lotus, day by day,
To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,
And tender curving lines of creamy spray:
To lend our hearts and spirits wholly
To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;
To muse and brood and live again in memory,
With those old faces of our infancy
Heaped over with a mound of grass,
Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass.”

↩
Incidit in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim.

He runs on Scylla, wishing to avoid Charybdis. ↩
Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum. —⁠Virgil

A horrible monster, misshapen, vast, whose only eye has been put out. ↩
Tantaene animis coelestibus irae? —⁠Virgil

In heavenly minds can such resentments dwell? ↩
Haud ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco. —⁠Virgil

Not unacquainted with distress, I have learned to succor the unfortunate. ↩
Tros, Tyriusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur. —⁠Virgil

Whether Trojan or Tyrian shall make no difference to me. ↩
Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito. —⁠Virgil

Yield thou not to adversity, but press on the more bravely. ↩
Facilis descensus Averni;
Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis;
Sed revocare gradum, superasque evadere ad auras,
Hoc opus, hic labor est.
—⁠Virgil

The descent of Avernus is easy; the gate of Pluto stands open night and day; but to retrace one’s steps and return to the upper air⁠—that is the toil, that the difficulty. ↩
The poet here inserts a famous line which is thought to imitate in its sound the galloping of horses.⁠—

Quadrupendante putrum sonitu quatit ungula campum. —⁠Virgil

Then struck the hoofs of the steeds on the ground with a four-footed trampling. ↩
Sternitur infelix alieno vulnere, coelumque
Adspicit et moriens dulces reminiscitur Argos.
—⁠Virgil

He falls, unhappy, by a wound intended for another; looks up to the skies, and dying remembers sweet Argos. ↩
There being no rain in Egypt, the grass is “unshowered,” and the country depends for its fertility upon the overflowings of the Nile. The ark alluded to in the last line is shown by pictures still remaining on the walls of the Egyptian temples to have been borne by the priests in their religious processions. It probably represented the chest in which Osiris was placed. ↩
Cowper’s version is less elegant, but truer to the original:

“He ceased, and under his dark brows the nod
Vouchsafed of confirmation. All around
The sovereign’s everlasting head his curls
Ambrosial shook, and the huge mountain reeled.”

It may interest our readers to see how this passage appears in another famous version, that which was issued under the name of Tickell, contemporaneously with Pope’s, and which, being by many attributed to Addison, led to the quarrel which ensued between Addison and Pope:

“This said, his kingly brow the sire inclined;
The large black curls fell awful from behind,
Thick shadowing the stern forehead of the god;
Olympus trembled at the almighty nod.”

↩
Gray’s ode, “The Fatal Sisters,” is founded on this superstition. ↩
In Longfellow’s Poems will be found a poem entitled “Tegner’s Drapa,” upon the subject of Baldur’s death. ↩
Mountains. ↩
“For noble Britons sprong from Trojans bold,
And Troynovant was built of old Troy’s ashes cold.”
—⁠Spenser, Book III, Canto IX, 38

↩
“Buried under beare.” Buried under something which enclosed him like a coffin or bier. ↩
Glastonbury Abbey, said to be founded by Joseph of Arimathea, in a spot anciently called the island or valley of Avalonia.

Tennyson, in his “Palace of Art,” alludes to the legend of Arthur’s rescue by the Faery queen, thus:

“Or mythic Uther’s deeply wounded son,
In some fair space of sloping greens,
Lay dozing in the vale of Avalon,
And watched by weeping queens.”

↩
Guenever, the name of Arthur’s queen, also written Genievre and Geneura, is familiar to all who are conversant with chivalric lore. It is to her adventures, and those of her true knight, Sir Launcelot, that Dante alludes in the beautiful episode of Francesca da Rimini. ↩
This name, in the French romances, is spelled Queux, which means “head cook.” This would seem to imply that it was a title, and not a name; yet the personage who bore it is never mentioned by any other. He is the chief, if not the only, comic character among the heroes of Arthur’s court. He is the Seneschal or Steward, his duties also embracing those of chief of the cooks. In the romances, his general character is a compound of valor and buffoonery, always ready to fight, and generally getting the worst of the battle. He is also sarcastic and abusive in his remarks, by which he often gets into trouble. Yet Arthur seems to have an attachment to him, and often takes his advice, which is generally wrong. ↩
Several cities are allotted to King Arthur by the romance-writers. The principal are Caerleon, Camelot, and Carlisle.

Caerleon derives its name from its having been the station of one of the legions, during the dominion of the Romans. It is called by Latin writers Urbs Legionum, the City of Legions. The former word being rendered into Welsh by Caer, meaning city, and the latter contracted into lleon. The river Usk retains its name in modern geography, and there is a town or city of Caerleon upon it, though the city of Cardiff is thought to be the scene of Arthur’s court. Chester also bears in Welsh the name of Caerleon; for Chester, derived from castra, Latin for “camp,” is the designation of military headquarters.

Camelot is thought to be Winchester.

Shalott is Guilford.

Hamo’s Port is Southampton.

Carlisle is the city still retaining that name, near the Scottish border. But this name is also sometimes applied to other places, which were, like itself, military stations. ↩
“Samite,” a sort of silk stuff. ↩
“N’as” is “not was,” contracted; in modern phrase, “there was not Mochel sorwe” is “much sorrow;” “morwe” is “morrow” ↩
Newfangled⁠—fond of novelty. ↩
“Lunys,” the string with which the falcon is held. ↩
A musical instrument. ↩
“Good faith was the very cornerstone of chivalry. Whenever a knight’s word was pledged (it mattered not how rashly) it was to be redeemed at any price. Hence the sacred obligation of the boon granted by a knight to his suppliant. Instances without number occur in romance, in which a knight, by rashly granting an indefinite boon, was obliged to do or suffer something extremely to his prejudice. But it is not in romance alone that we find such singular instances of adherence to an indefinite promise. The history of the times presents authentic transactions equally embarrassing and absurd.” —⁠Scott, Note to Sir Tristram ↩
“Feres,” companions; “thewes,” labors; “leers,” learning. ↩
“Aglets,” points or tags. ↩
“Pinckt upon gold, etc.,” adorned with golden points, or eyelets, and regularly intersected with stripes. “Paled” (in heraldry), striped. ↩
A fool was a common appendage of the courts of those days when this romance was written. A fool was the ornament held in next estimation to a dwarf. He wore a white dress with a yellow bonnet, and carried a bell or “bauble” in his hand. Though called a fool, his words were often weighed and remembered as if there were a sort of oracular meaning in them. ↩
The word means both “fisher” and “sinner” ↩
The use of green rushes in apartments was by no means peculiar to the court of Caerleon upon Usk. Our ancestors had a great predilection for them, and they seem to have constituted an essential article, not only of comfort, but of luxury. The custom of strewing the floor with rushes is well known to have existed in England during the Middle Ages, and also in France. ↩
“Cordwal” is the word in the original, and from the manner in which it is used it is evidently intended for the French Cordouan or Cordovan leather, which derived its name from Cordova, where it was manufactured. From this comes also our English word “cordwainer” ↩
Amongst all the characters of early British history none is more interesting, or occupies a more conspicuous place, than the hero of this tale. Urien, his father, was prince of Rheged, a district comprising the present Cumberland and part of the adjacent country. His valor, and the consideration in which he was held, are a frequent theme of Bardic song, and form the subject of several very spirited odes by Taliesin. Among the Triads there is one relating to him; it is thus translated:

“Three Knights of Battle were in the court of Arthur: Cadwr, the Earl of Cornwall, Launcelot du Lac, and Owain, the son of Urien. And this was their characteristic⁠—that they would not retreat from battle, neither for spear, nor for arrow, nor for sword. And Arthur never had shame in battle the day he saw their faces there. And they were called the Knights of Battle. ↩
Before the sixth century all the silk used by Europeans had been brought to them by the Seres, the ancestors of the present Boukharians, whence it derived its Latin name of Serica. In 551 the silkworm was brought by two monks to Constantinople; but the manufacture of silk was confined to the Greek empire till the year 1130, when Roger, king of Sicily, returning from a crusade, collected some manufacturers from Athens and Corinth, and established them at Palermo, whence the trade was gradually disseminated over Italy. The varieties of silk stuffs known at this time were velvet, satin (which was called “samite”), and taffety (called “cendal” or “sendall”), all of which were occasionally stitched with gold and silver. ↩
There exists an ancient poem, printed among those of Taliesin, called the “Elegy of Owain ap Urien,” and containing several very beautiful and spirited passages. It commences:

“The soul of Owain ap Urien,
May its Lord consider its exigencies!
Reged’s chief the green turf covers.”

In the course of this Elegy the bard, alluding to the incessant warfare with which this chieftain harassed his Saxon foes, exclaims:

“Could England sleep with the light upon her eyes! ↩
The custom of riding into a hall while the lord and his guests sat at meat might be illustrated by numerous passages of ancient romance and history. But a quotation from Chaucer’s beautiful and half-told tale of “Cambuscan” is sufficient:

“And so befell that after the thridde cours,
While that this king sat thus in his nobley,
Herking his minstralles thir thinges play,
Beforne him at his bord deliciously,
In at the halle door all sodenly
Ther came a knight upon a stede of bras,
And in his hond a brod mirrour of glas;
Upon his thombe he had of gold a ring,
And by his side a naked sword hanging;
And up he rideth to the highe bord.
In all the halle ne was ther spoke a word,
For mervaille of this knight; him to behold
Full besily they waiten, young and old.”

↩
The terms of admiration in which the older writers invariably speak of glass windows would be sufficient proof, if other evidence were wanting, how rare an article of luxury they were in the houses of our ancestors. They were first introduced in ecclesiastical architecture, to which they were for a long time confined. Glass is said not to have been employed in domestic architecture before the fourteenth century. ↩
Throughout the broad and varied region of romance it would be difficult to find a character of greater simplicity and truth than that of Enid, the daughter of Earl Ynywl. Conspicuous for her beauty and noble bearing, we are at a loss whether more to admire the patience with which she bore all the hardships she was destined to undergo or the constancy and affection which finally achieved the triumph she so richly deserved.

The character of Enid is admirably sustained through the whole tale; and as it is more natural, because less overstrained, so perhaps it is even more touching than that of Griselda, over which, however, Chaucer has thrown a charm that leads us to forget the improbability of her story. ↩
The Island of the Mighty is one of the many names bestowed upon Britain by the Welsh. ↩
Caractacus. ↩
Cassivellaunus. ↩
There is a Triad upon the story of the head buried under the White Tower of London, as a charm against invasion. Arthur, it seems, proudly disinterred the head, preferring to hold the island by his own strength alone. ↩
Creiddylad is no other than Shakespeare’s Cordelia, whose father, King Lear, is by the Welsh authorities called indiscriminately Llyr or Lludd. All the old chronicles give the story of her devotion to her aged parent, but none of them seem to have been aware that she is destined to remain with him till the day of doom, whilst Gwyn ap Nudd, the king of the fairies, and Gwythyr ap Greidiol, fight for her every first of May, and whichever of them may be fortunate enough to be the conqueror at that time will obtain her as a bride. ↩
The Welsh have a fable on the subject of the half-man, taken to be illustrative of the force of habit. In this allegory Arthur is supposed to be met by a sprite, who appears at first in a small and indistinct form, but who, on approaching nearer, increases in size, and, assuming the semblance of half a man, endeavors to provoke the king to wrestle. Despising his weakness, and considering that he should gain no credit by the encounter, Arthur refuses to do so, and delays the contest until at length the half-man (Habit) becomes so strong that it requires his utmost efforts to overcome him. ↩
The romancers dwell with great complacency on the fair hair and delicate complexion of their heroines. This taste continued for a long time, and to render the hair light was an object of education. Even when wigs came into fashion they were all flaxen. Such was the color of the hair of the Gauls and of their German conquerors. It required some centuries to reconcile their eyes to the swarthy beauties of their Spanish and Italian neighbors. ↩
Ivanhoe, Vol. 1, chap. XIII. ↩
It is plain that Shakespeare borrowed from this source the similar incident in his As You Like It. The names of characters in the play, Orlando, Oliver, Rowland indicate the same thing. ↩
See their story in “King Arthur and His Knights.” ↩
This is a poetical description of a phenomenon which is said to be really exhibited in the strait of Messina, between Sicily and Calabria. It is called Fata Morgana, or Mirage. ↩
This prophecy is introduced by Ariosto in this place to compliment the noble house of Este, the princes of his native state, the dukedom of Ferrara. ↩