Now Aglaia stood by him, and she received the prizes from the hands of the prince of heart’s delight. She beckoned the boy aside, and with silence their only witness, she whispered into his ear the artful message of her intriguing mistress :
“Allvanquisher unvanquished, preserver of life co-eval with the universe, make haste! Cythereia is in distress. None of her attendants has remained with her; Charis has gone, Peitho has vanished, Pothos the inconstant has left her ; she had none to send but me. She needs your invincible quiver !
No sooner had she spoken, than Eros wanted to know all about it ; for all young people, when they hear only the beginning of a story, are eager to hear the end. So he rattled out with that unbridled tongue of his—
“Who has hurt my dear Paphian? Let me take arms in hand and fight all the world! If my mother is in distress, let me stretch my allvanquishing bowstring against even Cronion, to make him once more a mad ravishing love-bird, an eagle, or a bull swimming the sea! Or if Pallas has provoked her, if Crookshank has hurt her by lighting the bright torch of the Cecropian light, I will fight them both, Hephaistos and Athena! Or if Archeress hareslayer moves her to anger, I will draw the fiery Olympian sword of Orion to prick Artemis and drive her out of the sky! (Or if it is Hermes) I will carry off with me Maia’s son on my wings, and let him call useless Peitho in vain to his help. Or I will leave my arrows and the fiery belt of my quiver, I will lash Phoibos a willing victim with cords of laurel leaves, holding him bound in a belt of speaking iris. Indeed I fear not the strength of Enyalios, it will not weary me to flog Ares when he is shackled by the delightful cestus. The two luminaries I will drag down from heaven to be drudges in Paphos, and give my mother for a servant Phaéthon with Clymene, Selene with Endymion, that all may know that I vanquish all things !
He spoke, and straight through the air he plied his feet, and reached the dwelling of eager Aphrodite long before Aglaia with his pair of whirring wings.
His mother with serene countenance took him into her embrace, and threw one happy arm round her boy, lifting him on her knees, a welcome burden. He sat there while she kissed the boy’s lips and eyes ; then she touched his mindcharming bow, and handled the quiver, and pretending to breathe anger, spoke these delusive words :
My dear child, you have forgotten Phaéthon and Cythereia! Pasiphaé no longer wants the bull’s love. Helios mocks at me, and arms the offspring of Astris, the warrior Deriades his own daughter’s son, to destroy the Bassarids of womanmad Dionysos and to rout the love-stricken Satyrs of Bromios. But it has provoked me more than all, that battlestirring Ares in mortal shape, with Enyo by his side, without regard for his old love of Aphrodite, has armed himself against Dionysos at Hera’s bidding and supports the Indian king. Now then, on this field Ares is for Deriades—then you fight for Lyaios. He has a spear, you have a stronger bow, before which bend the knee Zeus the Highest and furious Ares and Hermes the lawgiver ; even that Archer Apollo fears your bow. If you will give a boon to your Foamborn, fight for the Bassarids and our Dionysos. Go I pray, to the Eastern clime and let no one catch you—go to the Indian plain, where there is a handmaid of Lyaios amongst the Bacchants, more excellent than her yearsmates, named Chalcomede, who loves the maiden state—but if you should see Chalcomede and Cypris both together in Libanos, you cannot tell which was Aphrodite, my dear boy ! Go to that place and help Dionysos ranging the wilds, by shooting Morrheus for the beauty of Chalcomedeia. I will give you a worthy prize for your shooting, a wellmade Lemnian chaplet, like the rays of fiery Helios. Shoot a sweet arrow, and you will do a grace both to Cypris and to Dionysos ; honour my bridesmaid bird of love and yours, the herald of lifelong wedding and happy hearts !
So spoke the goddess ; and Eros wildly leapt from his mother’s lap and took up his bow, slung the allvanquishing quiver about his little shoulder, and sailed away on his wings through the air ; round Cerne he turned his flight opposite the rays of morning, smiling that he had set afire that great charioteer of the heavenly car with his little darts, and the light of the loves had conquered the light of Helios. Soon he was moving in the midst of the Indian host, and laid his bow against the neck of Chalcomedeia, aiming the shaft round her rosy cheek, and sent it into the heart of Morrheus. Then paddling his way with the double beat of his floating wings he mounted to the starry barriers of his father, leaving the Indian transfixed with the fiery shaft.
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