Page:The Mythology of the Aryan Nations.djvu/242

210 ROOK II.

on clear streams and luscious fruits without daring to quench his thirst or appease his hunger. He may be armed with invincible weapons ; he may be the conqueror of all his enemies : but the doom is upon him ; he must die in the flower of his age. Still there is for him a grief yet more bitter than this. Throughout almost the whole of his long journey he must go alone. The beautiful being who cheered him when his heart beat high and his limbs were fresh was parted from him almost as soon as he had found her, and there remains of her grace and loveliness only a consoling memory. He has hard toils before him, and there are grievous perils to be encountered. Still for him, as for the sons of men,

'Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all.

Develope- ment of the myth. But although he cannot go back to the bright land where he saw his early love, she may yet be restored to him when the hour of his death has come. The sight of that beautiful form, the tender glance of that loving countenance, will be more than a compensation for his long toil and his early death. He will die looking on her face. But in the meanwhile his heart is filled with an irrepressible yearning. He must hasten on until his eye has seen its desire, even though the shadow of death must immediately fall upon him. He may have been early severed from her; but she is his bride, pure and incor- ruptible, though the mightiest of the land seek to taint her faith and lead her aside into a new love. Her dwelling is his home, and to it he must hasten across the blue seas of heaven, although monsters may seek to scare him and beautiful beings may beseech him to tarry awhile with them in their luxurious chambers.

Under this thin disguise we see at once the story of Odysseus and Penelope ; but this is, after all, one only of almost a thousand forms which the legends of Phoibos and Dionysos, of Perseus and Bellero- phontes, may assume. The doom of the Dawn is as woful as that of the Sun who has loved her. The glance of both is fatal. The Sun looks upon the tender dew, and under his rays the sparkling drops vanish away. The evening turns to gaze upon the setting sun, and the being on whom her life depends is snatched from her sight. They can remain together only on the condition that the one shall not see the form and face of the other ; and so when, after the rising of the sun, the violet hues of morning faded from the sky, the phrase would run that Indra, or Plioibos, or Orpheus had fixed their eyes on Dahana, or Daphne, or Eurydike, and their love had passed away from them like the fleeting colours of a dream. But the myth