the leadership of Bacchus, from the Nysaean territory, and gave to the place a name, walls and a race. To the walls of the city was joined a fen of cheerless water, the banks extending in a wide. circle: an infamous swamp, with water rising and falling in the same place, and giving forth a noxious exhalation. The deathdealing vapors were borne high into the air, vapors such as arise in the Campanian Avernus, or like to the baleful mist of Ampsanctus in the valleys of the Hirpini, coming as is thought from the depths of the lower world. A fen not less infamous than in former times the stygian pool in Egypt, hard by the walls of Memphis, and the Arcadian styx which petrifies on the bank.

Whether the work of the infernal deities, or of the celestial gods, or of nature, inimical to man, obtaining this influence from the stars, a monster of huge bulk had dragged himself forth (from this fen), and laid waste the fields, the sheepfolds and the city. A monster with a maw like a bull, a long gullet like a whale, a hollow throat like the Aetnaean cave, which is said to extend by a black yawning passage to the waters of Cocytus and the impious doors of Dis; a monster more cruel by far than the Laernaean Hydra, its black hide armed with horrid scales, able to scorn the club and bow of Hercules. When it had consumed the flocks, not able to endure the hunger in its empty belly it reared its ugly head and hissing neck onto the high walls, and exhaled its breath, a breath such as the infernal caverns are rumored to breathe through the purgatorial realms and Orcus. The deadly virus spread across the walls into the city, and, causing sudden death and unforseen calamities to men, afflicted the citizens with bitter grief. Wherever in its movements it extended the great weight of its huge belly, the ground was embittered; the grass withered, the flowers with seared stalks wilted and fell, and the trees and green boughs, subject to the contagion, withered away; just as the Catinian countryside withers when the Aetnean crater vomits forth its fuming fires, involving in its rapid flames the groves, the fields, and the sheepfolds. Nay more, if the heavy vapor chanced to pollute any bird with its noxious breath, suddenly, as if its heart were cut off, its strength gone, with wings dropped, and, expiring with gasping throat, it fell to the ground dead.

After many deaths, after manifold disasters, at length the tribunes (of the plebeians) are summoned to the royal palace, and the

fathers hold solemn council with the supreme ruler (the king). Finally, after many things have been said on this side and on that, with the consent of the king, the plebeians, and the patricians, a law decrees that two human bodies, chosen by lot, be given to the foul monster, one at sunrise, the other at sunset, so that its deadly hunger, thus satiated, would be appeased, and it would cease to pour over the entire city the death-dealing virus of its pestilential breath. Tradition has it that once upon a time a similar fate befell the grandchildren of Cecrops, what time Theseus came into Crete with heavy oar and guided his footsteps by a cord.

The city receives the stern edict since there is no other way to secure the protection desired. The plebeians pay the penalty first and then, ascending, fate advances to the resplendent thresholds of the patricians. Every day fresh victims are bewailed, nor is there. any one who does not tremble with fear, awaiting the tidings of unhappy fate. And it comes to the king who, advanced to the extreme winter of old age, has for his only child a virgin, now ripe for a husband, now fully mature for marriage. But just as is wont to happen in such a case, a grave disagreement arose between the king and the citizens. His affections urged the father not to surrender his daughter to such pillage, and he felt that royal majesty ought to be exempt. The populace, who were suffering the impious penalties and all of them sad in countenance because of the recent deaths, sternly reproached the king, and threatening many plebiscites demanded that what is common to the plebeians and the patricians shall be shared by the king himself. The king, therefore, perceiving the populace to be of one mind, and recalling the saying that the plebeians do not know how to endure chains or fire to endure water, with rising tears, gave up, alas, his daughter, the solace of his old age.

Straightway lamentation arises, resounding through the royal palace, and the hard lot tortures the afflicted parents. Neither by night nor by day do they silence their complaints. They remove the tapestries from the chambers, they desert the feasts, the halls remain uncared for; all the royal household bemoans the fatal calamity.

Now the fatal day was at hand and the report thereof, spread abroad through the neighboring cities, drew many to the spectacle. George dons his coat-of-mail, seizes his spear, and attended by a

few comrades, mounts aloft on his snow-white steed-the mother of which was Thracian and the father Asturian, a gift from the Roman Emperor, which he had adorned with purple reins and gleaming gold-and with his companions draws nigh, taking up his station on a hill adjacent to the city, whence this infamous fen lies open to view.

The golden sun was succeeding the dawn, and Lucifer was still advancing, nor had he yet hidden himself in the high heavens, when the serpent, larger than the Deucalion Python, rearing his head from the black pool, ploughs through the resounding waters, and swimming, drives the waves to the shore. Straightway the lurid cloud stains the air, clear before, and Titan is consumed by the black smoke. The monster glides to the shores, and casting about its eyes, gleaming with blood-red flames, begins to look for its customary food. When it can not see it, it hisses, consumed with mighty rage, and rearing aloft its scaly back, and extending wide its greenish wings, as if about to fly, hisses again, beats the ground with its curved claw-a sign of impatience and wrath at having its food too long withheld-and with distended eyes and ears alert stands facing the portals, whence it knows that its food customarily approaches, imagines the grating of the doors and seems to expect the brazen bolts to be released from the round sockets, and expectant licks its gaping mouth with its huge tongue. The terrified matrons, the men, and the little children stand on the high walls, breathlessly eager to see what they are unwilling to see, and gaze with heavy hearts. Meanwhile the wretched king and queen comfort the maiden, decked in royal apparel, and solemnly affirm that all the youths who must needs meet death through the decrees of the elders shall become divinities and be alloted seats among the immortals,and through future years shall be celebrated with the honor befitting gods, not only in their own country but wherever through the Libyan cities the renowned story of this so illustrious act travels, and she shall enjoy sacred rites and lasting temples and be numbered among the gods whom Rome calls penates and indigetes, such as were Numa, Romulus, and he who was swallowed up by the earth for like piety. Thus they seek to inculcate in her mind the desire for immortality. With such words they endeavor to keep back the tears from their eyes, but

natural affection opposes this effort; they inadvertently break forth into groans and tears, nor can they feign good cheer.

The entrance of the gate had been gained, but not as yet were the walls opened. Every head is forced to bow in tears; every breast is racked with sighs. They kiss her, they hold her in tight embrace, and again and again moisten her face with their caresses, but at length they reach the two-fold doors. Behold, the parents, with drenching tears, set foot upon the very threshod of the gates with their child, and then thrust forth from the doors their trembling daughter, shining in the garments of betrothal, and adorned with the braided locks. Finally the mournful attendants fasten the chains about her neck and leave her alone.

With face like a goddess, she, a virgin like to Helen, stands as Andromeda exposed to the monsters of the sea, and raising her eyes to the sky lest she behold the terrible enemy, tremblingly implores the divinities and the stars. From the distant walls she is heard to utter such laments as these, her words scarce reaching the attentive ears: O wretched, O wretched Alcyone-for such was her name-wherefore are the fates so cruel to you that you must needs descend into the belly of this monster? Wherefore does nothing remain to me of life, which ought to extend for many years? Wherefore does the grave come to swallow me up, alive, sound in body, and innocent? What have I deserved? Wherefore am I thus condemned? For what crime am I punished? Why am I thus hated by heaven, earth, and the lower world? Is there no one among so many gods, among so many mortals, to offer aid? Alone, defenceless, I am abandoned here to the monster. Forsooth these, these are my nuptials, so longed for by my father, these are my offspring, which my mother awaited with joy. O ye heavenly gods, as ye are mindful that once in time past ye delivered Ariadne, O ye gods of the sea, ye of the under world, if ye have eyes which can see these misfortunes, if any pity moves you, hear the laments of your Alcyone, who has ever knelt a suppliant at your altars.'

Such words did she utter, believing herself on the threshold of death. When the young women behold this spectacle from the walls, they are all seized with quaking; the presence of death more deeply affects their spirits; fright robs them, trembling, of their senses; a kindred emotion beats in every heart. The Tribune,

himself, looking on from the hill, grieves, and all the company, deeply moved, lament the calamity.

The monster had halted in astonishment, for the other bodies were exposed with bare limbs; from the chains themselves he reasoned that this was his destined booty. He advances therefore with open jaws, and sluggish because of his great bulk, moves slowly forward. Crawling like a great turtle he sweeps along the ground, and with extended wings approaches his prey.

As from a distance George, ardently compassionate, beholds the cruel abomination, the enormity befitting so great anger, he groans in spirit, and, moved with pity, signs his breast with the cross, spurs his horse, and with tight-grasped spear hastens to meet the monster. All marvel at the young man; they are amazed at a spirit so undaunted, they pray the gods to be present at these hazards. God lends his aid to the great-souled undertaking. The sword's point, thrust far down the throat, penetrates into the broad belly, and the fair knight, more courageous than the deadly monster, pierces its heart, black with death-dealing venom, the charger forced by the violence of the blow to pause a moment. Directly he is seized with flaming rage, nor does he heed the rein, but as soon as his momentary anger expends its sudden fury, he is wheeled about, and with prancing step and proud eye, and neighing frequently with his wide-spread nostrils, advances as if with his lordly spirit despising the enemy. Not less fervent is the ardor of the knight. He unsheathes his sword-sun-reflecting, flashing flames upon the walls and fiercely returns with drawn weapon to the conflict. Another spear, thrust through the heart, the groin and the belly, enters the wound and completely buries itself in the viscera. The beast, distending itself on the broad field, bites the spear shaft with its crooked teeth. But anon, all its ferocity spent, the serpent lies prone on the ground, its great limbs stretched out in the dust, and expending its last gasps with panting breath.

Forthwith the clapping and shouting surges upward from the high walls, and the wild rejoicing lifts high the mingled voices. When the king and queen, half dead, learn what has transpired, forgetful of old age they rush to the walls, and with precipitate emotion command the release of their daughter, pallid, congealed with fright, wellnigh dead. They stand about with tender affection, they are filled with amazement, they gaze open-mouthed on the face.