Return to Free & Treadwell, Fifth Reader
adapted from Nathaniel Hawthorne
In the olden times a sparkling fountain gushed out from a hillside in the land of Greece. One day in the golden sunset a handsome young man named Bellerophon drew near its margin. In his hand he held a bridle, studded with brilliant gems, and having a golden bit. An old man, and another of middle age, and a little boy were near the fountain, and likewise a maiden, dipping up some of the water in a pitcher. Bellerophon paused and begged that he might refresh himself with a drink.
“This is delicious water,” he said to the maiden as he filled her pitcher, after drinking out of it. “Will you be kind enough to tell me whether the fountain has any name?”
“Yes, it is called the Fountain of Pirene,” answered the maiden. “My grandmother has told me that this clear fountain was once a beautiful woman. Her son was killed by the arrows of Diana and she melted away into tears. So the water, cool and sweet, is the sorrow of that poor mother’s heart!”
“I should not have dreamed,” said the young stranger, “that so clear a spring, with its gush and gurgle, had one tear-drop in its bosom. And this, then, is Pirene? I thank you, pretty maiden, for telling me its name. I have come from a far away country to find this very spot.”
“Water must be getting low, friend, in your part of the world,” remarked the middle-aged man, “if you come so far to find the Fountain of Pirene. But pray, have you lost a horse? I see you carry the bridle in your hand. A very pretty one it is, too, with that double row of bright stones upon it.”
“I have lost no horse,” said Bellerophon with a smile, “but I am seeking a very famous one, which must be found hereabouts, if anywhere. Do you know whether the winged horse, Pegasus, still haunts the Fountain of Pirene? He used to do so in your forefathers’ days.”
The country fellow laughed.
Pegasus was a snow-white steed, with beautiful silvery wings, who spent most of his time on Mount Helicon. He was as wild and swift in his flight through the air as an eagle. There was nothing else like him in the world. He had no mate, he never had been backed or bridled by a master, and for many a long year he had led a solitary and a happy life.
Pegasus often alighted on the solid earth and, closing his silvery wings, would gallop over hill and dale for pastime, as fleetly as the wind. Often he had been seen near the Fountain of Pirene, drinking the water, or rolling himself upon the soft grass of the margin. Sometimes, too, he would crop a few of the clover-blossoms. Of late years he had been seldom seen. Indeed, there were many of the country folk near the fountain who had never beheld Pegasus. They did not believe there was any such creature. The country fellow to whom Bellerophon was speaking chanced to be one of these persons. That was the reason he laughed.
“Pegasus, indeed!” cried he, turning up his nose, “Pegasus, indeed! A winged horse, truly! Of what use would wings be to a horse? Could he drag the plow? How would a man like to see his horse flying out of the stable window, or whisking him up above the clouds, when he wanted only to ride to mill? No, no! I don’t believe in Pegasus. There never was such a kind of horse-fowl made.”
“I have some reason to think otherwise,” said Bellerophon quietly.
Then he turned to an old gray man who was leaning on a staff. He was listening with his head stretched forward and one hand at his ear.
“And what say you, sir?” inquired Bellerophon. “In your younger days you must have seen the winged steed!”
“Ah, young stranger, my memory is very poor,” said the aged man. “When I was a lad, I used to believe there was such a horse, and so did everybody else. But nowadays, I hardly know what to think. If I ever saw the creature, it was a long, long while ago. To tell you the truth, I doubt whether I ever did see him.”
“And have you never seen him, my fair maiden?” asked Bellerophon of the girl who stood near with the pitcher on her head.
“Once I thought I saw him,” replied the maiden, with a smile. “It was either Pegasus or a large white bird, a great way up in the air. One other time, as I was coming to the fountain with my pitcher, I heard a neigh. It startled me so that I ran home without filling my pitcher.”
“That was truly a pity!” said Bellerophon.
Then Bellerophon turned to the child, who was gazing at him with his rosy mouth wide open.
“Well, my little fellow,” cried Bellerophon, pulling one of his curls, “I suppose you have often seen the winged horse.”
“That I have,” answered the child, very readily. “I saw him yesterday, and many times before.”
“You are a fine little man,” said Bellerophon, drawing the child closer to him. “Come, tell me all about it.”
“Why,” replied the child, “I often come here to sail little boats in the fountain and to gather pretty pebbles out of its basin. Sometimes, when I look down into the water, I see the image of the winged horse in the picture of the sky. I wish he would come down and take me on his back and let me ride him up to the moon. But if I so much as stir to look at him, he flies far out of sight.”
So Bellerophon put his faith in the child, who had seen the image of Pegasus in the water, and in the maiden who had heard him neigh. Therefore, he haunted the Fountain of Pirene for a great many days afterwards. He kept on the watch, looking at the sky or down into the water, hoping that he might see the image of the winged horse. He held the bridle with its bright gems and golden bit, always ready in his hand. The rustic people in the neighborhood, who drove their cattle to the fountain to drink, often laughed at Bellerophon. They told him that a young man ought to be in better business. They offered to sell him a horse if he wanted one. When Bellerophon declined the purchase, they tried to bargain with him for his fine bridle.
Even the country boys thought him foolish. They used to have much sport about him. One little urchin would play Pegasus and cut the oddest capers by way of flying, while one of his schoolfellows would scamper after him, holding forth a twist of bulrushes to represent Bellerophon’s bridle. But the gentle child who had seen Pegasus in the water comforted the young stranger. The little fellow often sat down beside him and, without speaking a word, would look down into the fountain and up towards the sky for the winged horse. So Bellerophon always felt encouraged.
Why was it that Bellerophon had undertaken to catch the winged horse? In a certain country of Asia, a terrible monster called a Chimera had made its appearance and was doing great mischief. This Chimera was the ugliest and most poisonous creature, and the strangest and the hardest to fight with, that ever came out of the earth. It had a tail like a boa constrictor; and it had three separate heads, one of which was a lion’s, the second a goat’s, and the third a great snake’s. A hot blast of fire came flaming out of each mouth. It ran like a goat and a lion and wriggled along like a serpent, and thus made as much speed as all the three together.
Oh, the mischief, and mischief, and mischief that this creature did! With its flaming breath it could set a forest on fire, or burn up a field of grain or a village with all its fences and houses. It laid waste the whole country roundabout. It used to eat people and animals alive and cook them afterwards in the burning oven of its stomach.
While the hateful beast was doing all these horrible things, Bellerophon chanced to come to that part of the world on a visit to the king. The king’s name was Iobates, and Lycia was the country over which he ruled. Bellerophon was one of the bravest youths in the world, and he desired to do some brave and good deed to make all mankind admire and love him.
King Iobates saw the courage of Bellerophon and proposed to him to go to fight the Chimera, whom everybody feared. Unless it should be killed soon it was likely to turn Lycia into a desert.
Bellerophon assured the king that he would either slay the terrible Chimera or he would perish in the attempt.
But as the monster was so swift Bellerophon knew that he could never win by fighting on foot. He must get the very best and fleetest horse that could be found. And what other horse in all the world was half so fleet as Pegasus? He had wings as well as legs and was even more active in the air than on the earth.
So Bellerophon traveled from Lycia to Greece and brought the beautiful jeweled bridle in his hand. It was an enchanted bridle. If he could only get the golden bit into the mouth of Pegasus the winged horse would own Bellerophon for his master.
But it was a weary time while Bellerophon waited and waited for Pegasus to drink at the fountain of Pirene. He was afraid King Iobates might think that he had fled from the Chimera. It pained Bellerophon, too, to think how much mischief the monster was doing, while he himself was compelled to sit by the bright waters of Pirene as they gushed out of the sparkling sand. He feared that he might grow to be an old man and have no strength left in his arms nor courage in his heart, before the winged horse would appear.
Oh, how heavily passed the time! How hard a lesson it was to wait!
Well was it for Bellerophon that the gentle child had grown so fond of him and was never weary of keeping him company. Every morning the child gave him a new hope to put into his bosom. “Dear Bellerophon,” he would cry, looking up into his face, “I think we shall see Pegasus to-day!”
At length, if it had not been for the little boy’s great faith, Bellerophon would have given up all hope. He would have gone back to Lycia, where he would have done his best to slay the Chimera without the help of the winged horse and would probably have been killed and devoured.
One morning the child spoke to Bellerophon even more hopefully than usual.
“Dear, dear Bellerophon,” cried he, “I know not why it is, but I feel we shall certainly see Pegasus to-day!”
All that day he would not stir a step from Bellerophon’s side. They ate a crust of bread together and drank some of the water of the fountain. In the afternoon there they sat. Bellerophon had thrown his arm around the child who had put one of his little hands into Bellerophon’s. The latter was lost in his own thoughts and was fixing his eyes on the trunks of the trees near the fountain and on the grapevines that climbed among the branches. But the gentle child was gazing down into the water. He was grieved for Bellerophon’s sake. Two or three quiet tear-drops fell from his eyes into the fountain.
But, when he least thought of it, Bellerophon felt the pressure of the child’s little hand and heard a whisper.
“See there, dear Bellerophon! There is an image in the water.”
The young man looked down into the mirror of the fountain. He saw what he took to be the reflection of a bird flying at a great height in the air, with a gleam of sunshine on its snowy or silvery wings.
“What a splendid bird it must be!” said he, “and how very large it looks, though it must really be flying higher than the clouds!”
“It makes me tremble,” whispered the child, “I am afraid to look up into the air. It is very beautiful and yet I dare only look at its image in the water. Dear Bellerophon, do you not see that it is no bird? It is the winged horse, Pegasus.”
Bellerophon’s heart began to throb. He gazed upward, but could not see the winged creature, whether bird or horse, because it had plunged into the fleecy depths of a summer cloud. It was but a moment, however, before the object reappeared, sinking lightly down out of the cloud, although still at a vast distance from the earth. Bellerophon caught the child in his arms and shrank back so they were hidden among the thick shrubbery around the fountain. He was afraid of no harm, but he feared that, if Pegasus caught a glimpse of them, he would fly far away to some mountain-top, for it was really the winged horse.
After they had expected him so long he was coming to quench his thirst with the water of Pirene.
Nearer and nearer came the wonder, flying in great circles like a dove when about to alight. Downward came Pegasus in those wide sweeping circles, which grew narrower and narrower as he approached the earth. The nearer he came the more beautiful he was, and the more marvelous was the sweep of his silvery wings. At last he alighted and began to drink. He drew in the water with long and pleasant sighs and quiet pauses of enjoyment, and then another draught, and another, and another. For nowhere in the world, or up among the clouds, did Pegasus love any water as he loved this of Pirene.
When his thirst was slaked, he cropped a few of the honey-blossoms of the clover, just tasting them, not caring to make a hearty meal. After thus drinking to his heart’s content, the winged horse began to caper to and fro and dance out of mere sport. There never was a more playful creature made than this very Pegasus. So there he frisked, fluttering his great wings as lightly as a linnet, and running little races half on earth and half in air.
Once or twice Pegasus stopped and snuffed the air, pricked up his ears, and tossed his head as if he suspected some mischief. Seeing nothing, however, and hearing no sound, he soon began his antics again.
At length Pegasus folded his wings and lay down on the soft green turf. He soon rolled over on his back with his four slender legs in the air.
It was beautiful to see him. Bellerophon and the child held their breath because they dreaded lest the slightest stir or murmur should send him up with the speed of an arrow into the blue of the sky.
Finally when he had had enough of rolling over and over, Pegasus turned himself about, and, like any other horse, put out his fore legs to rise from the ground. Then Bellerophon darted from the thicket and leaped astride of his back.
Yes, there he sat on the back of the winged horse!
But what a bound did Pegasus make when, for the first time, he felt the weight of a mortal man upon his loins! A bound, indeed! Before he had time to draw a breath, Bellerophon found himself five hundred feet aloft, and still shooting upward. The winged horse snorted and trembled with terror and anger. Upward he went, up, up, up, until he plunged into the cold misty bosom of a cloud. Then again, out of the heart of the cloud, Pegasus shot down like a thunderbolt, as if he meant to dash both himself and his rider headlong against a rock. Then he went through a thousand wild capers. He skimmed straight forward, and sideways, and backward. He reared himself erect, with his fore legs on a wreath of mist and his hind legs on nothing at all. He flung out his heels behind, and put down his head between his legs, with his wings pointing right upward. About two miles above the earth, he turned a somersault so that Bellerophon’s heels were where his head should have been. He seemed to look down into the sky instead of up.
Pegasus twisted his head about and, looking Bellerophon in the face, with fire flashing from his eyes, he made a terrible attempt to bite him. He fluttered his wings so wildly that one of the silver feathers was shaken out. It floated earthward and was picked up by the child, who kept it as long as he lived in memory of Pegasus and Bellerophon.
But Bellerophon was as good a horseman as ever mounted. He had been watching his chance and at last clapped the golden bit of the enchanted bridle between the jaws of the winged steed. No sooner was this done than Pegasus became as tame as if he had taken food all his life out of Bellerophon’s hand. It was almost a sadness to see so wild a creature grow tame so suddenly, and. Pegasus seemed to be oppressed by the change. He looked around to Bellerophon with tears in his beautiful eyes, instead of the fire that had flashed from them. But when Bellerophon patted his head and spoke a few firm yet kind words, another look came into the eyes of Pegasus. He was glad, after so many lonely centuries, to have found a companion and a master.
While Pegasus had been doing his utmost to shake Bellerophon off his back, he had flown a very long distance. They had come within sight of a lofty mountain by the time the bit was in his mouth. Bellerophon had seen this mountain before and knew it to be Helicon, the abode of the winged horse. Pegasus now flew to the summit and waited patiently for Bellerophon to dismount. The young man leaped from his steed’s back but still held him fast by the bridle. Meeting his eyes, Bellerophon was touched by the thought of the free life which Pegasus had lived. He could not bear to keep him a prisoner, if the horse really desired his liberty. So he slipped the enchanted bridle off the head of Pegasus, and took the bit from his mouth.
“Leave me, Pegasus!” said he, “either leave me, or love me.”
In an instant the winged horse shot almost out of sight, straight upward from the summit of Mount Helicon. It was now twilight on the mountain-top, but Pegasus flew so high that he overtook the departed day, and was bathed in the sunshine. Soon he looked like a bright speck, and at last could not be seen. Bellerophon was afraid that he should never see him more, but the bright speck reappeared and drew nearer and nearer, until it was lower than the sunshine. Behold, Pegasus had come back! After this trial there was no more fear of the winged horse’s making his escape. He and Bellerophon were friends, and they put loving faith in each other.
That night they lay down and slept together, with Bellerophon’s arm about the neck of Pegasus. They awoke at peep of day and bade one another good morning, each in his own language.
In this manner Bellerophon and Pegasus spent several days, and they grew better acquainted and fonder of each other all the time. They went on long journeys and sometimes ascended so high that the earth looked hardly bigger than the moon. They visited distant countries and amazed the inhabitants. All thought that the beautiful young man on the back of the winged horse must have come out of the sky. A thousand miles a day was no more than an easy space for the fleet Pegasus to pass over. Bellerophon was delighted with this kind of life. He would have liked nothing better than to live always in the same way, aloft in the clear air. But he could not forget the horrible Chimera which he had promised King Iobates to slay.
First he learned to manage Pegasus with the least motion of his hand and taught him to obey his voice. Then he was ready to attempt this adventure.
At daybreak, therefore, as soon as he opened his eyes, he gently pinched the ear of Pegasus to arouse him. Pegasus immediately started from the ground. He pranced about a quarter of a mile aloft and made a grand sweep around the mountain-top, to show he was wide awake. During this little flight he uttered a loud brisk neigh and finally came down to Bellerophon’s side, as a sparrow hops upon a twig.
“Well done, dear Pegasus! well done, my skyskimmer!” cried Bellerophon, fondly stroking the horse’s neck. “And now, my fleet and beautiful friend, we are to fight the terrible Chimera.”
As soon as they had eaten their morning meal and had drunk some sparkling water, Pegasus held out his head for his master to put on the bridle. Then Bellerophon girded on his sword and hung his shield about his neck and prepared himself for battle. When everything was ready the rider mounted and ascended five miles, the better to see where he was going. He then turned the head of Pegasus towards the east and set out for Lycia. In their flight they overtook an eagle and came so nigh him that Bellerophon might easily have caught him by the leg. It was still early in the forenoon when they beheld the lofty mountains of Lycia with their deep and shaggy valleys. They were near their journey’s end and the winged horse gradually descended with his rider.
It was a wild, savage, and rocky tract of high hills. In the more level part of the country there were the ruins of houses that had been burnt. Here and there dead cattle were strewn about the pastures where they had been feeding.
“The Chimera must have done this mischief,” thought Bellerophon, “but where can the monster be?”
Three spires of black smoke issued from the mouth of a cavern. The cavern was almost directly beneath the winged horse and his rider at the distance of about a thousand feet. The smoke, as it crept upward, had an ugly stench which caused Pegasus to snort and Bellerophon to sneeze. It was so disagreeable to Pegasus that he waved his wings and shot half a mile away. But on looking behind him Bellerophon saw something that led him to draw the bridle and turn Pegasus about. He made a sign which the winged horse understood. Pegasus sank slowly through the air until his hoofs were just above the rocky bottom of the valley. In front was the cavern’s mouth with the three smoke-wreaths oozing out of it. There seemed to be a heap of strange and terrible creatures curled up within the cavern. Their bodies lay close together. Judging by their heads one of these creatures was a huge snake, the second a fierce lion, and the third an ugly goat. The lion and the goat were asleep, the snake was awake and kept staring around him with a great pair of fiery eyes. The three spires of smoke came from the nostrils of these three heads. Here was the terrible three-headed Chimera.
He had found out the Chimera’s cavern. The snake, the lion, and the goat were not three separate creatures, but one monster.
All at once Bellerophon started as from a dream and knew it to be the Chimera. Pegasus seemed to know it at the same instant, and sent forth a neigh that sounded like the call of a trumpet to battle. At this sound the three heads reared and belched out great flashes of flame. Before Bellerophon had time to think, the monster flung itself out of the cavern and sprang towards him, with its immense claws extended and its snaky tail twisting itself behind. Pegasus was as nimble as a bird, so both he and his rider were saved from the Chimera’s headlong rush. In the twinkling of an eye he was up half way to the clouds, snorting with anger. He shuddered with disgust at this poisonous thing with three heads.
The Chimera raised itself up so as to stand on the tip of its tail. Its talons pawed fiercely in the air, and its three heads spluttered fire at Pegasus and his rider. How it roared and hissed and bellowed!
Bellerophon, meanwhile, was fitting his shield on his arm and drawing his sword.
“Now, my beloved Pegasus,” he whispered in the winged horse’s ear, “thou must help me to slay this monster or thou shalt fly back to thy mountain peak without thy friend Bellerophon. The Chimera must die or its three mouths shall gnaw this head of mine which has slumbered upon thy neck!”
Pegasus whinnied, turned back his head and rubbed his nose tenderly against his rider’s cheek. It was his way of telling Bellerophon that he would perish rather than leave him behind.
“I thank thee, Pegasus,” answered Bellerophon. “Now then, let us make a dash at the monster!”
Uttering these words he shook the bridle. Pegasus darted down aslant, as swift as the flight of an arrow right towards the Chimera’s threefold head. All this time it was poking itself as high as it could into the air. As he came within arm’s length Bellerophon made a cut at the monster. He was carried onward by his steed before he could see whether the blow had been successful. Pegasus soon wheeled round. Bellerophon then saw that he had cut the goat’s head of the monster almost off. It dangled downward by the skin and seemed dead. But the snake’s head and the lion’s head had taken all the fierceness of the dead one into themselves. They spit flame and hissed and roared with a vast deal more fury than before.
“Never mind, my brave Pegasus!” cried Bellerophon, “with another stroke like that, we shall stop either its hissing or its roaring.”
And again he shook the bridle. Dashing aslant as before the winged horse made another arrowflight toward the Chimera. Bellerophon aimed another stroke at one of the two heads as he shot by. But this time neither he nor Pegasus escaped so well. With one of its claws the Chimera had given the young man a deep scratch in his shoulder and had hurt the left wing of the flying steed with the other. On his part, Bellerophon had mortally wounded the lion head of the monster. It now hung downward, with its fire almost out, and sending out gasps of thick black smoke. The snake head, however, was twice as fierce as before. It belched forth shoots of fire five hundred yards long. It emitted hisses so loud, so harsh, and so ear-piercing, that King Iobates heard them, fifty miles off, and trembled till the golden throne shook under him.
“Well-a-day!” thought the king, “the Chimera is coming to devour me!”
Meanwhile Pegasus had again paused in the air and neighed angrily. The spirit of the horse was all aroused and so was that of Bellerophon.
“Dost thou bleed, my immortal horse?” cried the young man, caring less for his own hurt than for the pain of this glorious horse. “The Chimera shall pay for this mischief with his last head!”
Then he shook the bridle, shouted loudly, and guided Pegasus straight at the monster’s hideous front. So rapid was the onset that it seemed but a dazzle and a flash before Bellerophon was at close grip with his enemy.
The Chimera, after losing its second head, had got into a red-hot passion of pain and rage. It opened its snake-jaws so wide that Pegasus might have flown right down its throat, wings outspread, rider and all! It shot out a great blast of its fiery breath and enveloped Bellerophon and his steed. in flames. Then the Chimera gave a spring and flung its huge body right upon poor Pegasus. It clung round him with might and main and tied up its snaky tail into a knot!
Up flew the aerial steed higher, higher, higher, above the mountain peaks, above the clouds and almost out of sight of the earth. But still the earth monster kept its hold and was borne upward, along with the creature of light and air. Bellerophon meanwhile, turning about, found himself face to face with the ugly visage of the Chimera. He could only avoid being scorched to death or bitten in two, by holding up his shield. Over the upper edge of the shield he looked sternly into the savage eyes of the monster.
But the Chimera was so mad and wild with pain that it did not guard itself well. It tried to stick its horrible iron claws into its enemy and left its own breast exposed. Seeing this, Bellerophon thrust his sword up to the hilt into its cruel heart. Immediately the snaky tail untied its knot. The monster let go its hold of Pegasus and fell downward from that vast height. The fire within its bosom burned fiercer than ever and quickly began to consume the carcass. Thus it fell out of the sky, all aflame, and was mistaken for a shooting star or a comet. At early sunrise some cottagers, going to their day’s labor, saw, to their astonishment, that several acres of ground were strewn with black ashes. In the middle of a field there was a heap of whitened bones much higher than a haystack. Nothing else was ever seen of the dreadful Chimera!
And when Bellerophon had won the victory he bent forward and kissed Pegasus, while the tears stood in his eyes.
“Back now, my beloved steed!” said he, “back to the Fountain of Pirene!”
Pegasus skimmed through the air quicker than ever he had done before, and reached the fountain in a short time. There he found the old man leaning on his staff, and the country fellow watering his cow, and the pretty maiden filling her pitcher.
“I remember now,” quoth the old man, “I saw this winged horse once before, when I was quite a lad. But he was ten times handsomer in those days.”
“I own a cart horse worth three of him!” said the country fellow. “If this pony were mine the first thing I should do would be to clip his wings!”
But the poor maiden said nothing, for she had always the luck to be afraid at the wrong time. So she ran away and let her pitcher tumble down and it broke.
“Where is the gentle child,” asked Bellerophon, “who used to keep me company, and never lost his faith, and never was weary of gazing into the fountain?”
“Here am I, dear Bellerophon!” said the child, softly, for the little boy had spent day after day on the margin of Pirene, waiting for his friend to come back. When he saw Bellerophon descending through the clouds mounted on the winged horse, he had shrunk back into the shrubbery. He was a tender child and dreaded lest the old man and the country fellow should see the tears in his eyes.
“Thou hast won the victory,” said he, joyfully, running to the knee of Bellerophon, who still sat on the back of Pegasus. “I knew thou wouldst.”
“Yes, dear child!” replied Bellerophon, alighting from the winged horse. “But if thy faith had not helped me I should never have waited for Pegasus, I should never have gone up above the clouds, and I should never have conquered the terrible Chimera. Thou, my little friend, hast done it all. And now let us give Pegasus his liberty.”
So he slipped off the enchanted bridle from the head of the marvelous steed.
“Be free, forevermore, my Pegasus!” cried he, with a shade of sadness in his tone. “Be as free as thou art fleet!”
But Pegasus rested his head on Bellerophon’s shoulder, and would not take flight.
“Well, then,” said Bellerophon, caressing the airy horse, “thou shalt be with me, as long as thou wilt. We will go together and tell King Iobates that the Chimera is destroyed.”
Then Bellerophon embraced the gentle child and promised to come to him again and departed. But in after years, that child took higher flights upon the winged steed than did Bellerophon, for gentle and tender as he was, he grew to be a mighty poet!
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