valley, culling the choicest flowers, and singing of hope and joy and
the blessedness of a life pure and true. It was Arethusa, the Arcadian
nymph, by some supposed to be a daughter of old Nereus, the elder of
the sea.

Then Alpheus heard no more the songs of the birds, or the music of the
breeze; he saw no longer the blue sky above him, or the nodding flowers
at his feet: he was blind and deaf to all the world, save only the
beautiful nymph. Arethusa was the world to him.

He reached out his arms to catch her; but, swifter than a frightened
deer, she fled down the valley, through deep ravines and grassy glades
and rocky caverns underneath the hills, and out into the grassy
meadows, and across the plains of Elis, to the sounding sea. And
Alpheus followed, forgetful of everything but the fleeing vision.
When, at length, he reached the sea, he looked back; and, lo! he was no
longer a huntsman, but a river doomed to meander forever among the
scenes, for love of which he had forgotten his wife and his babe and
the duties of life. It was thus that Artemis answered his prayer.

And men say that Arethusa, the nymph, was afterwards changed into a
fountain; and that to this day, in the far-off island of Ortygia, that
fountain gushes from the rocks in an unfailing, crystal stream. But
Orsilochus, the babe forgotten by his father, grew to manhood, and in
course of time became the king of the seafaring people of Messene.




THE GOLDEN APPLE