File:Stories from The earthly paradise (1915) (14772699733).jpg

Identifier: storiesfromearth00evan (find matches)
Title: Stories from The earthly paradise
Year: 1915 (1910s)
Authors: Evans, C. S. (Charles Seddon), 1883-1944 Morris, William, 1834-1896
Subjects: Mythology Legends
Publisher: London : E. Arnold
Contributing Library: New York Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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ade whereAtys died, started back with horror as he saw a ghastlyface, with eyes of pain, staring through the thicket at thespot where the blood of the Prince still dyed the ground. To the funeral rites of Atys came all the lords of Lydiaand the country around. The pyre was lighted, and asthe flames mounted high they and the King threw costlythings into the flames, weeping and calling upon the deadPrince by name. Suddenly among them appeared a man with tatteredclothes and worn and haggard face. The marshals wouldhave cast him out, for they knew him not and thoughthe was a beggar, but he broke from them and ran nearerto the flaming pyre. Surely the world is changed, since ye doubt who Iam ! he cried. Yet ye have called me princely beforeto-day. I arn Adrastus, the son of Gordius, the greatKing, and I come as is my right to attend the funeral ofAtys, who was rny friend. 0 Lydians, ye have castmany a rich thing into these flames, but I will cast a richerstill. Wait, Atys; I come, I come !
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WAIT, ATYS; i COME, i COME! THE SON OF CR(ESUS 77 So saying, he drew a knife from his side, and, leapinginto the flames, slew himself with one mighty stroke. So these two noble hearts, who in life had loved eachother so well, in death were not divided, and the sameflames consumed the bodies of both. And when theflames died down and the pyre was cold, the peoplegathered up their ashes, and enshrined them in a goldenurn, whereon a cunning artist wrought this story of thehunting of the boar. THE WRITING ON THE IMAGE LONG ago, in the half-forgotten days of old, there stoodin one of the streets of Eome a wooden image. It wasroughly carved of cornel wood, and on the upraised handof it were written these words: Percute hie — Strikehere. And many men passing by looked at the image,and read the inscription, but none of them knew why thewords were written. So, for more than two hundred years, the image stoodthere in the middle of that Eoman square. The hot sunof summer blazed down upon it, an

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