Orpheus and Eurydice

The son of the Thracian King Oeagrus, Prince Orpheus, seemed to many who met him an unremarkable man, neither tall of stature like Hercules, nor divinely handsome as Adonis. He was not a renowned warrior, as Achilles, or even notably silver tongued as Odysseus. The son of a King, and the Muse Calliope, Orpheus did however possess two qualities so rare in the great men of his time. For the Thracian Prince was blessed with a heart of gold, and was gifted lyre player, a trait handed down from his mother and grandfather - the god Apollo. Both of these things would be his greatest asset, and his ultimate ruin...

Orpheus serenades the Nymphs of the Forest
Painting by Charles Jalabert

While the lyre was the creation of the god Hermes, it was Orpheus who perfected it. As a young child Apollo gifted his favoured grandson with a lyre of burnished gold, and his mother, the patron of lofty poetry, taught him many a verse of heroic lore, and the Prince set it all to heart-warming music. Any doubts old King Oeagrus may have had at his son's disinterest in military pursuits were at once silenced the moment young Orpheus began to play, for the hearts of the King and all his court were moved by the heavenly notes. Many a summer's afternoon would young Orpheus spend in the wild forests of Thrace, his refuge of body, his music, his sanctuary of mind. Oblivious he was too, to the enchanting power of his tunes. The nymphs of the forest lay all around, entranced by the Prince's songs, as they had been for his brother Marsyas. The beasts of the glades, boars, wolves and the like all stood alert and spellbound. Even the stones of the forest floor lent their attention to the sound that soothed the air, such was the power of the music that Orpheus created. The Prince's quiet life, however, did not endure for long. As a young man, Orpheus volunteered to join Jason and his fellow Argonauts on their arduous quest to the ends of the Earth for the Golden Fleece (a story which shall be told in the future on this site). The crew of heroes, including mighty Hercules himself, grew to respect and admire Orpheus, whose humble demeanour and beautiful compositions came to their rescue on many an occasion when morale was low, saving the lives of the whole crew when faced with the deadly Sirens.


When at last the voyage was over, Orpheus returned a grown man to his native Thrace, desiring a quiet life as of old. He soon grew to care for a nymph, Eurydice, a spirit who once admired his songs deep in the forest. Over time both Orpheus and Eurydice became deeply attached to one another, and the Prince was overjoyed when she agreed to wed him. The day arrived, and it was wondrous to behold, such was the array of beings present. Apollo made the rays of the Sun touch all the fields and faces that day, his grandson's wedding day. In their tens and hundreds the dryads and naiads marched forth from their abodes, bedecked in garlands and fine robes. It was a happy day, and even high on Olympus the joy was felt. Alas that such calamity would strike utopia that day. In the commotion and revelry, a drunken Satyr chased the bride through the party. Eurydice, surprised, fled into the fields, but ruinous was her fortune. Into the long grass of the meadow she fled. She turned to try and catch a glimpse of her pursuer, but in that moment she felt a lethal pain in her foot. She screamed and looked for the source of her doom. There at her feet, a viper. A glance she stole at Orpheus, face white with raw terror, before death moved to claim her on her wedding day.

The River Styx
Painting by Joachim Patinir

Devastation was the mere beginning of feeling which struck Orpheus now. Holding her close to him, he grieved terribly, and the whole world grieved with him. Shattered as a man, for an age after, a new song pierced the air, but it was not the tune of joy which touched the soul, it was a lament, a tearful mourning indeed. The spirits of the forest could restrain their pity no more. His heart afire with longing and despair, Orpheus refused to accept his loss of Heaven. At the urging of the nymphs, he decided to take the dark road to Hades himself and plead for mercy. So the Prince set off on his morbid journey, one fraught with danger. Seldom had a mortal ventured into the land of the dead and ever seen the light of day again. But even the hearts of the gods on high were with him that day. At his approach, fearsome Cerberus skulked away in the darkness at the gates of death. Eerie silence fell on the Prince's ears. Such a heavy silence the greatest musician in the world had never before heard, and it saddened him. Taking out his lyre, he did the only thing he knew, he played. Even the monstrous guardian of Hell was soothed by the song, and allowed his passage. Charon, the ferryman of the dead, taking pity too, granted him a journey across the River Styx, the true boundary between the Overworld and Hades. The smell of decay grew overwhelming, and at last, to the throne room of the god of the dead himself he came in humility. Hades and his Queen Persephone were astonished at the sight of the broken man, his robes defiled with filth and tears, and heard his call.


Orpheus came forth and spake his mind, "I come not curious to explore thy domain, nor come to boast... My wife alone I seek, for her sake these terrors I support, this journey take". The gods high on Olympus, powerless in the abode of death, wept for Orpheus. The Prince, wavering at the fearsome gaze of Hades, continued:


             " A hope within my heart prevails...
               Let me again Eurydice receive,
               Let Fate her quick spun thread of life re-weave...
               She, when ripen'd years she shall attain,
               Must, of avoidless right, be yours again:
               I but the transient use of that require,
               Which soon, too soon, I must resign entire... "
                  - ORPHEUS' PLEA TO HADES

Orpheus leads Eurydice
Painting by Jacopo Vignali

The Prince's fingers moved toward his lyre, he couldn't help it, it was his only solace now. He began to play, and even the bloodless shades of the dead turned to see. Far in Tartarus,  Sisyphus laid down his mighty burden to listen, far above Ixion squirmed for a glance, and away in the pool Tantalus forgot his hunger and thirst. Even the vengeful Furies relaxed their snarls, tears stinging their ferocius cheeks. The hand of Queen Persephone tensed. Too well did she know what it was like to be torn from a dear one. To her husband, the lord of death did she intercede, asking pity this one time. Not even the cold heart of Hades remained unmoved that day. To the grieving Prince the son of Kronos turned, and declared that he would grant his wish, and restore Eurydice to life, but upon one condition. The rules of the cosmos were absolute - Hades commanded Orpheus to return to the Overworld, but until both he and Eurydice had crossed the threshold of the land of the living, he was forbidden to look behind him into the deadlands. If he did, the pact would be forfeit, and he would lose Eurydice forever. The Thracian Prince nodded gently, and Hades snapped his fingers. A troop of deathly shades approached from the darkness, bearing in their midst the shadowy form of the his beloved. Wincing slightly from the deadly bite, she stopped perfectly still at the sight of her Prince, joy spreading through her body, reviving now with breath, though as yet unable to speak. It was as though her wretched misfortune had never befallen her, as Orpheus, crying with joy, moved to embrace her. Alas they passed through her, for the ritual was not yet complete. Thanking the dead god and his Queen from the deepest chamber of his heart, Orpheus bid Eurydice come with him quick before the Sun set that day, so they might enjoy anew an evening upon the Earth. Leading the way Orpheus put his first foot upon the deathly stairs, rising high above the Halls of Hell.


Immediately his resolve was tested to breaking point, such was his desire and the temptation to look behind. Lost and again found, alas that he was forbidden to look back at his beloved and that he must lead the way!

   
                     " Now thro' the noiseless throng their way they bend,
                       And both with pain the rugged road ascend;
                       Dark was the path, and difficult, and steep... "
                              - ORPHEUS' ESCAPE


Orpheus found the dread silence agony to bear, unbroken by song. For the laws of the cosmos decreed it easy for a man to enter the realm of the dead, but far harder to leave, and both hands did the Prince require on the ascent. As the sweat poured from his brow, he fought his urge to turn and assist, terrified of breaking his oath. He called to her, naught but heavy silence replied. Not until restored fully to life would breath pass her lips again. Trying desperately to cast his thoughts away from horrid visions of his beloved lost far below in the darkness, Orpheus continued his climb.

Eurydice lost
Painting by Christian Gottlieb Kratzenstein

At last, after what seemed days of silent struggle, the black shroud seemed to ease all around. Colour could be seen again, and the harsh, jagged rocks around the tunnel. They seemed as teeth of the jaws of some infernal beast, binding the dead within that realm, never to leave. Orpheus' excitement grew - at last, redemption lay just over the crest! For hours and hours he toiled against the rock, alone to his ears. As the light grew, hand in hand with it walked his paranoia. Was Eurydice still there? Had Hades deceived him? The desire to look grew painful to resist. With every reserve of will, Orpheus forced his head forward. Up and over the last precipice, the rays of the late afternoon Sun struck his forehead, embracing him with their reassuring heat. Ecstatic, he hauled himself up and over, and rushed into the cool air, blazing with light. In that moment his happiness was absolute, unbroken and willed to live for ever. Puzzled he was, however, when the cry of freedom at his side he could not hear. Doubt racked his mind again - was she there? He wheeled around, seeking Eurydice. There she stood after all, she had followed him all the way from the root of the Earth, but something was amiss. He glimpsed her fair face, near full again, but the expression upon it he would never forget. White as snow, a look of terror on her face, a visage to freeze the soul. The joy of Orpheus stopped dead in its tracks. Cold dread flooded every inch of him, as he saw too late his folly. A mere footstep it was from the mouth of the Underworld his beloved stood. Behind it. His legs and arms began to shake, a soft no all he could utter, and his eyes welled up. The word of Hades rang in his ear, and for the second time Death claimed Eurydice, this time for good. One last look of hopeless longing she gave him, before the darkness took her spirit, as Orpheus fell to his knees...

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

United States

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Bird, Bull and Mare

Heracles was well on his way to proving himself more than just a man when he had completed his fifth gruelling task, his Fifth Labour. Desperate to earn forgiveness, he had slain the Nemean Lion, the Lernaean Hydra, captured the swift Ceryneian Hind and the fierce Erymanthian Boar, and cleaned the ghastly stables of King Augeias (for the previous episode, click here). But, to his anguish, the slaying of the Hydra and the cleaning of the stables had been rendered void by King Eurystheus, on account of the help and payment Heracles had received, though in reality an expression of Eurystheus' envy of the hero's prowess.

Lake Stymphalis

Photograph taken by Ulrich Tichy.

Heracles was furious, believing himself to be halfway to the Tenth Labour, finding he still had another seven to go. But there was little time to spare. Much needed to be done. Fresh reports reached the towering citadel of Tiryns of foul creatures of the abyss terrorising the peoples of Greece. King Eurystheus ordered the son of Zeus to set off for the Lake by the city of Stymphalos, not far away on Arcadia, and kill the birds which had taken up residence there. Believing this a strangely easy sounding task, Heracles set off from mighty Tiryns, soon arriving at Lake Stymphalis. Hearing reports that the birds lurked within a great forest by the water's edge, the hero made ready to slay them. However, these were no ordinary birds. For the Stymphalian Birds were sacred to Ares, the god of war, and were fierce creatures. Possessing beaks and talons made of solid bronze, the Stymphalian Birds were flesh eaters, and their droppings were also toxic to living things. The Birds had been terrorising the people of Stymphalos, decimating their cattle, and feasting on its citizens. Furthermore, the Birds roosted within a swamp, which Heracles soon discovered would not support his weight. Just as Heracles began to think the task impossible, the goddess Athena came before him, taking pity on his plight. Giving him a strange kind of rattle, forged by the god Hephaestus himself, the goddess of wisdom told the hero of another of the Birds' many features - they had extremely sensitive hearing. As the goddess departed, Heracles formed a daring plan. The next dawn, the hero climbed a mountain by the Lake and strung his bow. Taking up the castanet, Heracles rattled it with all his strength, creating a thunderous racket. Screeching in agony, the Stymphalian Birds took flight, right into Heracles' sights. Loosing his arrows, tainted as they were with the fiery poison of the Hydra, Heracles soon brought the Birds down. Delighted, Heracles returned to Tiryns, and was careful not to mention his divine assistance this time.

Heracles and the Cretan Bull

Mosaic in the National Archaeological Museum of Spain, Madrid.

Irate once again that Heracles still lived, Eurystheus decided against ordering the hero to slay the next beast, but to drag it all the way to Tiryns before him. Sending Heracles to the domain of King Minos away on the Isle of Crete, Eurystheus commanded him to bring to him the monstrous Cretan Bull. Once again, Heracles set forth from Tiryns, crossing the Ocean to Crete. King Minos received Heracles eagerly, for the Cretan Bull was ravaging the countryside, laying waste to all in its path. The Bull, it transpired, was the divine retribution exacted upon the King for his blasphemy. Some time before, King Minos, thrilled with his domains and grateful to the gods for their blessings, vowed to sacrifice whatever creature should come from the sea to Poseidon, lord of the Oceans. Hearing this vow, Poseidon sent forth from the depths of the Ocean a mighty white Bull. Utterly bemused at the sight of the Bull breaking from the surf, Minos was stunned by the beauty and elegance of the docile and noble creature. So entranced was he, the King forgot his promise to Poseidon, and sent it to join the rest of his many herds on the island, sacrificing another, lesser beast in its place. But Poseidon was angered that Minos had broken his oath. Moving his hand over the Bull, the god sent a consuming madness into the mind of the Bull, causing it to thrash in a beserk rage. Pleading with Heracles to aid him, Minos offered all the support the hero might need. Heracles declined, vowing to take the Bull alone, lest he once again rail in failure on his return. Confronting the mighty Bull in the mountains of Crete, Heracles wrestled the monster. Man and beast struggling for an age, Heracles at last managed to get a hold on one of the Bull's horns, and its jaw. Grappling with the beast all the way to the shore, Minos looked on, rejoicing at the hero's great strength. Restraining the creature on his ship, Heracles herded the Cretan Bull all the way to the Palace at Tiryns, where Eurystheus capitulated and declared the Labour a success. The Labour complete, Heracles released the Bull, which charged off into the countryside, eventually coming to the land of Attica, terrorising its peoples around Marathon. But the arrogance of the Athenians was something all other Greeks gladly saw punished, and Eurystheus was content. Indeed the Cretan Bull would one day father the Minotaur, the bane of the Athenians...

The Mares devour Diomedes

Painting by Gustave Moreau.

For his next task, King Eurystheus bade Heracles go forth and bring to him the Mares of King Diomedes of the Bistones. Since the Bistones were a highly aggressive Thracian tribe, Eurystheus did allow Heracles to take a company of armed men with him this time, as long as the hero simply brought back the horses. Thinking this oddly reasonable, Heracles once again left mighty walled Tiryns, venturing north to the wild lands of Thrace. Ambushed almost immediately, Heracles and his warriors were caught unawares. Fierce though the Bistones were, the Mares they rode were towering creatures, powerful and strong. With the might of Heracles' strength, however, the hero and his companions managed to repel them, just. Coming across the mangers where the Mares were tethered, Heracles and his good friend Abderus overpowered the guards and led the Mares back toward the coast. The Bistones, however, soon discovered the theft, and set off in hot pursuit. Leaving Abderus to guard the Mares, Heracles charged the warriors, who were now led by their fearsome King, Diomedes, the son of Ares himself. Fierce though the Bistones were, the son of Zeus threw them back again and again, until only he and the towering King were left. After a titanic struggle, Heracles made a prisoner of Diomedes, deciding to lead him back to Eurystheus too, as an added gift. However, coming back to the Mares, he saw the animals standing there, but Abderus was nowhere to be seen. Spotting that the mouths of the Mares were spattered with blood, and a few crunched bones at their feet, however, Heracles suddenly realised a terrible truth of the Mares which Eurystheus had neglected to mention. The Mares were carnivorous. Driven into a rage with grief, Heracles hurled Diomedes at the Mares, who proceeded to devour their master. Only when sated with human flesh were the beasts calm once again. Seizing his chance, Heracles tied the strongest bonds around their jaws, binding them tightly shut.

Leading them all the way back to strong walled Tiryns, Heracles presented the beasts to Eurystheus. Impressed, Eurystheus agreed that Heracles had completed his Labour fairly, and offered the Mares as a sacrifice to Hera. Realising that Heracles was more than a man, the King, knowing he had only four Labours left to give, began to conceive ever more daring tasks for the son of Zeus...

United Kingdom

The Library of Greek Mythology:

The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)

(A vast collection of stories from old Greece, written and compiled in ancient times)

United States

The Library of Greek Mythology:

The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)

(A vast collection of stories from old Greece, written and compiled in ancient times)