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)

The Seeds of the Pomegranate

Myths have, in so many civilisations, sought to explain what science could not. As science evolves, so too do myths. For man today ever seeks to understand the world in which he lives, no less than the man of three thousand years ago. One such phenomenon in nature was the changing of the seasons, a thing so critical to man's bond with the land. Here is one such story of how the seasons came into being.

Demeter
Photograph taken by Marie-Lan Nguyen
Sculpture in the Vatican Museums

One of the quieter goddesses, Demeter yet held a honoured position on Mount Olympus. She remained, after all, the sister of Zeus himself, and a daughter of Kronos, greatest of the Titans (for the story of their birth, please click here). Whilst her illustrious brothers reigned at the forefront, diligently watching over the affairs of man and the deeds of heroes, Demeter took a quieter role in the cosmos. For she was the lady of the harvest, to whom all men prayed to grant abundance to their crops. In these most ancient times, the bounty of the Earth was great all year round, as bushels of corn burst forth from the fields each day. There was, however, one thing Demeter treasured above all else. Persephone, her daughter, was renowned throughout the world as a paragon of beauty. Where mother and daughter walked, the sun shone brightly, flowers bloomed, the grasses rippled in the gentle breeze and the maize swelled at their fertile touch. Many gods had sought her favour, but Demeter had refused all suitors to Persephone. One god, more than any other, grazed by Cupid's arrow, was transfixed by her. His cold and dark demeanour could not have been further away from the sun drenched world above. For he was Hades, the god of death and lord of the Underworld, who rued the grisly world gifted to him at the Creation. His divine flesh was tinged with a sickly pallor, deprived of sunlight far below the surface of the Earth, and the light of life was far distant from his eyes. But longingly did he look upon Persephone.

Enna
Photograph taken by Massimiliano Canale

One day, Hades could endure the torment no longer, and came before Zeus, high on Mount Olympus. The Thunderer, surprised to see his brother in the Overworld, was stunned to see the anguish upon Hades' face. The god of the dead bowed before Zeus, and implored him to grant Persephone to him so that she could be his wife. The King of the gods was troubled by this request. For Persephone was also his daughter (incest being an alas regular occurrence in Greek Mythology), and she would never forgive her father for sending her to the dank depths of the Underworld. What was more, Demeter would never allow it, having spurned so many other deities before. Yet Hades was his brother, and he had no wish to offend him. What then, was the King of the gods to do? Torn by his duties, Zeus resigned to neutrality, neither granting Hades' wish, nor denying it, sending his brother away while he deliberated. Time passed, and the lord of the dead grew restless in his black abode. If Zeus had not forbidden it, then he must be allowed to, he thought. His patience gone at last, Hades resolved to take Persephone himself.

Hades seizes Persephone
Painting by Nicolò dell'Abate

Meanwhile, far above on the golden meadows of Sicily, Persephone and her handmaidens were dancing in the rolling fields. Revelling in the summer bloom, the goddesses were picking flowers near Enna, for a magnificent garland. Just then, Persephone noticed the particularly vibrant petals of a narcissus. Leaning over, she clasped the flower. As her soft fingers closed around the stem, a deafening roar shook the Earth. The goddesses screamed and jumped back in fear, for before them a vast fissure had torn the Earth asunder, a pit to the black abyss. Bursting forth from within came the god of the dead himself, in all his deathly glory, on a mighty chariot pulled by four towering black steeds. With a strength belying his ghostly complexion, Hades seized Persephone by the waist and took her into his chariot. With a crack of the whip, the god made haste, and hurtled back to the blackness of the abyss, as the handmaidens looked on, paralysed with shock and terror. The gaping maw of the chasm pulled shut with a roar, and the gateway between this world and the nether world sealed. Where once there was song, only silence prevailed.


Demeter, as yet unaware of Persephone's fate, called out to her daughter. When no reply came, she called again and again. Confused, and worried, the lady of the harvest looked, but did not find. Soon her worry turned to fear, as she could find her nowhere. Across the land she frantically searched, but no trace of her was to be found. For nine days the goddess searched, oblivious to hunger and fatigue. Distraught, soon Demeter found Persephone's belt, lying where she had been seized.


  " When she saw the gate-keepers fled, the house unguarded,
     the rusted hinges, the overthrown doorposts, and the miserable state
     of the silent halls, pausing not to look again at the disaster,
     she rent her garment and tore away the shattered corn-ears along with her hair.
     She could not weep nor speak nor breathe and a trembling
     shook the very marrow of her bones; her faltering steps tottered... "
                              - THE GRIEF OF DEMETER


Weeping, and angry, soon she neglected her duties as goddess of the harvest. Crops failed throughout the land. The grass withered and dried, green became brown, and maize became empty husks.  Wherever she trod, desert spread. Soon cattle, stricken with famine, collapsed in the barren fields. Mankind began to suffer too. Starving, soon people felt death's stricken hand drag them down to the House of Hades. The other gods came to Demeter and begged her to release the world from the deadly grip it was now locked in. But their pleas fell upon deaf ears, for Demeter thought only of  finding Persephone. Crying with frustration, Zeus ordered Hermes, the messenger of the gods, to travel down to Hades' realm, and release Persephone from the dark god's grip.

The Abduction of Persephone
Photograph taken by Steffen Heilfort

Meanwhile, deep in the depths of the Underworld, Persephone lay, a sad and melancholic shadow of her former self. Hades tried in vain to bring her round, and reconcile her with her new life, showing her the wealth that lay below the ground. The god of the dead held a large banquet to celebrate their wedding. Just as Persephone, resigned to her torment, placed her hand upon a pomegranate before her, a blinding light flashed throughout the darkness. Hermes appeared, in all his divine glory, commanding Hades to release his new bride. The dark god dared not disobey a direct order from Olympus, and reluctantly set her free, but with an odd indifference. Puzzled by the ease with which Hades handed her over, Hermes nevertheless took flight upon his winged sandals, bearing the new Queen of the Dead high to Olympus' lofty heights.

The Return of Persephone
Painting by Frederic Leighton

A storm of cheers raised the heights of the Divine Mountain as Persephone tentatively stepped into the banqueting hall, with the array of gods enthroned before her. With a cry of exultation, Demeter threw herself forward and embraced her daughter, tears of joy rolling down her fair cheek. All seemed well at last. The rains came, the drought subsided, and the crops grew plentiful once more. But then, at the moment of triumph, came forth the god Ascalaphus. A servant of Hades, who yearned for favour from his dark master, Ascalaphus, with a look of savage pleasure on his face, informed the assembled crowd that since Persephone had eaten the food of the Underworld, she was forbidden to leave it. The joy broke to silence. Jolted to the very core, Zeus realised he was right. The laws of the Fates were absolute, for it was indeed the law that any who took the food or drink of the Underworld was condemned to spend an eternity there. Persephone broke down in tears, for in her absent minded grief, she had eaten four seeds from the pomegranate at Hades' table. Demeter rounded on Ascalaphus in fury, and in her anger turned him into an owl, and he was forever banished from the domain of the gods. Pleading at the feet of Zeus, she begged the Thunderer for help. The gods debated long into the night. If the Fates were defied, the cosmos would be overturned in Chaos. But if Persephone could not be free, man would, for a second time, be hurled headlong into the grasp of death.

Dawn arrived. Demeter came before Zeus, awaiting his verdict with terror. Torn by inner conflict, the Thunderer decreed that since Persephone had eaten four seeds of the pomegranate, for four months of the year she would dwell with Hades in the Underworld. For the remaining eight, however, she was free to return to the Earth. So ever after, for much of the year the world was bathed in light and burdened under the fruits of the trees. As Persephone's time in Hades approached, Demeter grew sad again, and the land turned a shade of brown, and leaves began to fall from the trees, bringing Autumn. When Persephone descended to the Underworld, Demeter's grief was absolute, and the world was shrouded in white, and ice spread her glittering sheets across the land, bearing Winter. So the comings and goings of the seasons were born...

 United Kingdom

The Library of Mythology:
Apollodorus - The Library of Greek Mythology
(A vast collection of the myths of old Greece, written in ancient times, and a great intro)

The Theogony:
Hesiod - Theogony and Works and Days
(A tale of the beginning of the world, and the creation of the gods, briefly mentioning this story)

The Rape of Proserpina:
Claudian - The Rape of Proserpina
(Here is a link to a poetic retelling of the story, for the adventurous!)


United States

The Library of Mythology:
Apollodorus - The Library of Greek Mythology
(A vast collection of the myths of old Greece, written in ancient times, and a great intro)

The Theogony:
Hesiod - Theogony and Works and Days
(A tale of the beginning of the world, and the creation of the gods, briefly mentioning this story)

The Rape of Proserpina:
Claudian - The Rape of Proserpina
(Here is a link to a poetic retelling of the story, for the adventurous!)

The Fate of Sisyphus

Whilst the gods of ancient times were benefactors, patrons and sometimes creators of the human race, for a mortal human to scorn their authority was a dangerous game to play. For though the rewards of virtue in the afterlife could be eternal bliss in the tranquil, golden and peaceful fields of Elysium, those possessed of an evil spirit would be condemned to a terrible ordeal. Heaven and Hell, the places of ceaseless reward and torture after death, are not a Christian invention. The ideas are far more ancient. Indeed the stories of Heaven and Hell which are so remembered in the works of Dante and Milton (stories which are told on this site, please browse the archives for these), are directly inspired by the heroic stories of ancient Greece and Rome. The shades in the Underworld, and their fate there, could become legendary. One such man was just that. His name was Sisyphus.

The Isthmus of Corinth
Photograph taken by the author.

Sisyphus was descended from noble stock. The son of Aeolus and Enarete, grandson of Hellen (the father of the Hellenic race, and hence why anything Greek is referred to as ‘Hellenic’ – even the modern country of Greece is officially titled the Hellenic Republic) and great grandson of Zeus himself, the master of Olympus. Sisyphus’ own grandson was the hero Bellerophon (the story of whom is told here), slayer of the monstrous Chimaera. Scheming and malevolent, Sisyphus seized the throne of the great city of Corinth from his brother by force and seduced his own niece. Under his rule, however, Corinth grew rich and powerful through trade and violence to become one of the most majestic cities in Greece. However it was achieved through deceit and cruelty. Sisyphus held no qualms about cruelly murdering guests of his own household, and travellers to his lands. Hospitality, and the bond between host and guest, was a sacred concept to the Greeks even more so than it is today. Zeus himself was patron of it, and violation of it was one of the very worst of crimes, tantamount to a transgression of divine law.

Yet he did not stop there. Zeus, the master of the gods, was infamous for his unfaithfulness to his wife Hera, and frequently stole away with various nymphs, in hiding from her. One such nymph was Aegina, daughter of the River god Asopus, whom the Thunderer spirited away from her homeland in the guise of an eagle. Arising the next day, Asopus looked for his daughter, but in vain. Stricken by grief, Asopus searched the lands for her, calling her name. Sisyphus however, had inadvertently witnessed the abduction. Seizing his chance to humble the mightiest of gods, Sisyphus confided Zeus’ secret to the god of the river, who was outraged. But if he was outraged, it was nothing compared to the fury of Zeus, fury that a mortal considered himself just in confiding the secrets of Olympus.

Thanatos - the daemon of Death
Photograph taken by Marie-Lan Nguyen.

Preparing for what was to come, Sisyphus decided to test the loyalty of his wife, Queen Merope, with a strange request. He ordered her that on the day of his death, his body was not to be buried, but to lie dirtied in the streets, the plaything to the crows and jeers of the people. Bewildered and reluctant, Merope relented at last after Sisyphus’ urging. Meanwhile, Zeus summoned to him the grim god Thanatos. Thanatos was an ancient daemon, the son of Darkness and Night, brother of Sleep and Death incarnate. Hated by mortals and immortals alike, Pitiless in the execution of his duty and a terrifying figure upon which the rays of the Sun never fell, Thanatos was the harbinger of doom to all beings when their time was up. The time for Sisyphus’ passing was decreed, and the Thunderer ordered Thanatos to seize the cruel king and bind him in chains in the Underworld. The god commanded and the merciless daemon obeyed. Seeing his torment upon him, Sisyphus seemed resigned to his fate. Before bowing to the daemon’s command, Sisyphus asked him if he might demonstrate himself the strength of the chain first, so that he might marvel at its magnificence. Thanatos agreed, and bound himself in the chains to show that not even he could escape from them. Sisyphus gave a shout of malicious joy, taunting Death that he had bound him in his own chains. Laughing at his own cunning, Sisyphus climbed his way back to Earth, leaving the daemon of Death straining against his incarceration.

Tartarus
Painting by Jan Brueghel the Elder.

The uproar was catastrophic. With Thanatos bound in the Underworld, no mortal could die and complete their passage to the afterlife without him. The natural order of the cosmos had been overturned completely, the delicate balance thrown into chaos. Disease and Plague found no victim, Old Age broke none and however grievous their wounds, no soldier would die in war. Ares, the Lord of Slaughter and god of war grew angry. Battle had lost its glory when his foes would no longer die, and blood would no longer flow from either side on the field of war. Marching into Hades himself, Ares found the bound daemon and freed him from his bonds. Death was allowed once again to carry out his fell work. His first target was Sisyphus.

The Torture of Sisyphus
Painting by Titian.

Dragging the deceitful king to Hades, Sisyphus was condemned for a second time to the House of Death. However, there was a problem. No soul of the deceased could pass beyond the River Styx if their corporeal form had not received the proper burial rites. So the second scheme of Sisyphus came to play, for he had ordered his wife to hurl his corpse into the dusty square of Corinth. Sisyphus appealed to the Lady Persephone, the wife of Hades himself, asking her to allow him to return to Earth, so that he might chastise his wife for her disloyal and disrespectful treatment of his corpse. Falling for his persuasive words, the Queen of the Underworld relented, and granted her assent for this task. Silently exultant once again, for the second time Sisyphus marched unopposed from the Underworld. Returning to his city, taking up the royal mantle once more, he refused to return to Hades. Enraged at his insubordination, Zeus ordered Hermes to forcefully drag Sisyphus to the Underworld. This time, however, there was to be no chance of escape. Zeus condemned Sisyphus to Tartarus, the deepest part of the Underworld. It was a land of fire, smoke and ash, where only the cruellest of souls could be sent. The Titans themselves were bound in this land (for more on this, please click here). Doomed to an eternity of frustration and torment, Sisyphus was forced to carry out a fruitless task until the end of time. Cast at the foot of a great mount, the cruel king was forced to bear a heavy boulder up its steep slopes, amid the burning heat and acrid fumes of Tartarus:

              “ Bracing himself and thrusting with hands and feet he pushed the boulder
                uphill to the top. But every time, as he was about to send it toppling over
                the crest, its sheer weight turned it back, and once again towards the plain
                the pitiless rock rolled down. So once more he had to wrestle with the thing
                and push it up, while the sweat poured from his limbs and the dust rose high
                above his head. ”
                                             - THE TORMENT OF SISYPHUS

So would the endless cycle begin. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot push the boulder that last yard over the top. Such is the fate of Sisyphus, a man who dared to challenge a god.

The story of Sisyphus is legend. His name is as famous as his punishment, such that now any venture deemed fruitless or never ending is called 'sisyphean' in the English language. It is a powerful tale of pride and the consequences of it - a favourite moral tale to the ancients as much as it is to us. The story of Man against God, man against Nature and Man against Death is a motif which will endure as long as men can die. Sisyphus is mentioned in many places throughout Classical literature, but here I list a few of the most substantial episodes, all in easily available form from Amazon:

United Kingdom

The Odyssey:
The Odyssey (Penguin Classics)
(A masterpiece of literature, containing the description of Sisyphus's ordeal)

The Library of Greek Mythology:
The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)
(Less poetic, but contains a collection of many of the myths of Greece)

United States

The Odyssey:
The Odyssey (Penguin Classics)
(A masterpiece of literature, containing the description of Sisyphus' ordeal)

The Library of Greek Mythology:
The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)
(Less poetic, but contains a collection of many of the myths of Greece)