THE ARTISAN'S WINGS

109

Perdix would surely have been drowned, had he not been rescued by Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, who loved him because he was so skillful. She changed him into a partridge, and he flew off across the waters.

Daedalus soon became afraid of what the people of Athens might do if they learned of his crime. So taking with him his young son, Icarus, he left Athens in the night and fled to the island of Crete, where King Minos received him very kindly.

But before long, Daedalus got himself into trouble by interfering with the king's household, and Minos made both father and son prisoners on the island. Daedalus grew very weary of that life, and thought and thought of some means of escaping from the island; but he could not get a boat, though day after-day he looked at the whitesailed vessels on the water, and longed to have one of them for his own.

One day Icarus was looking now up into the sky where many birds were flying to and fro, and then down at the sea which was covered with sail boats, when suddenly he said, "Oh, father, the vessels look like great, white-winged birds skimming lightly over the waves. They seem to fly just as their sister birds in the sky do."

The child's words gave the father a sudden happy thought. He would try to make wings for himself and his son, and. fly from this island in which he had so long been an unwilling prisoner.

The same evening, he set to work to make two pair of wings. He joined feathers of different lengths, and, with his deft fingers, shaped them like birds' wings. When they were finished he fastened them with soft wax to his son's shoulders and to his own.

Then, with a trembling voice, he said, "Icarus, my boy, watch me all the time, and follow where I lead; for if you go too low the water may clog your wings, and if you fly too high the heat of the sun will scorch them." He kissed his beloved child, and praying that no accident should befall him, gave the signal to start.

Slowly, like two great birds, father and son rose into the air. The fishermen and the sailors who saw them passing overhead, thought they must be gods flying near to earth, and fell on their knees. Over sea and land they went, swiftly and steadily, the father ever turning to see that his son was following in safety.

For a while Icarus followed where Daedalus led the way. But after a time he began to feel bold; and when his father was not looking, flew higher and higher, trying to reach the sky which looked so blue above him.

But alas! The higher he flew, the more fiercely the sun beat down upon him. Before long the great heat melted the wax by which the wings were fastened, and they dropped from his shoulders. Poor Icarus now had nothing to hold him up in the air, and he began to fall down, down, down. In his fright he cried aloud to his father. Daedalus turned just in time to see his son's head sink below the waves, while the fatal wings floated on the surface.

The poor father flew toward the spot where he had seen his son sink, lifted the lifeless body, and swam with it to the shore of the nearest island. There, with a heavy heart, he dug a grave and buried Icarus.

While he was thus engaged, he heard a strange cry overhead, and looking up, saw a partridge wheeling its flight above him. Immediately he thought of Perdix,

BIRDS IN SUMMER

III

whom he had so cruelly killed, and he felt that the death of his own son was his punishment for that wicked deed.

For a long time after that, the place was known as the island of Icarus, and the sea in which the boy was drowned was called the Icarian Sea.

BIRDS IN SUMMER

How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Flitting about in each leafy tree;

In the leafy trees, so broad and tall,
Like a green and beautiful palace hall,
With its airy chambers, light and boon,
That open to sun and stars and moon;
That open to the bright, blue sky,

And the frolicsome winds as they wander by!

They have left their nests on the forest bough;
Those homes of delight they need not now;
And the young and the old they wander out,
And traverse their green world round about;
And hark! at the top of this leafy hall,
How, one to the other in love they call:
"Come up, come up!" they seem to say,
"Where the topmost twigs in the breezes sway!

"Come up! come up! for the world is fair,
Where the merry leaves dance in the summer air.”
And the birds below give back the cry,

"We come, we come to the branches high!"
How pleasant the lives of the birds must be,
Living in love in a leafy tree;

And away through the air what joy to go,
And to look on the green, bright earth below!

How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Skimming about on the breezy sea,
Cresting the billows like silvery foam,
Then wheeling away to its cliff-built home!
What joy it must be to sail, upborne

By a strong, free wing, through the rosy morn!
To meet the young sun, face to face,

And pierce like a shaft the boundless space,

To pass through the bowers of the silver cloud,
To sing in the thunder halls aloud,

To spread out the wings for a wild, free flight
With the upper cloud winds—oh, what delight!
Oh, what would I give, like a bird, to go
Right on through the arch of the sunlit bow,
And see how the water drops are kissed
Into green and yellow and amethyst!

How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Wherever it listeth there to flee:

To go, when a joyful fancy calls,
Dashing adown, 'mong the waterfalls;
Then to wheel about, with its mate at play,
Above and below, and among the spray,
Hither and thither, with screams as wild
As the laughing mirth of a rosy child!

What joy it must be, like a living breeze,
To flutter about 'mid the flowering trees;
Lightly to soar, and to see beneath
The wastes of the blossoming purple heath,
And the yellow furze, like fields of gold,
That gladdened some fairy region old!
On the mountain tops, on the billowy sea,
On the leafy stems of the forest tree,
How pleasant the life of a bird must be!

MARY HOWITT.

A CRUEL KING

113

A CRUEL KING

WHEN Aegeus, king of the famous old city of Athens, was still a young man, he was one day passing through a village, where he saw a beautiful maiden with whom he fell in love. Soon afterwards he married her, and they had one child, a boy, whom they called Theseus.

When this baby was a few months old, Aegeus had to go back to Athens; but, before leaving, he buried in the ground his sword and sandals, and covered them with a heavy stone. Then, turning to his wife, he said, "When our boy is old and strong enough to lift that stone, let him take the sword and sandals and follow me to Athens, where I will make him heir to my throne." Then, kissing his wife and baby, he started on his journey.

Now about the same time that Theseus was born, Minos, king of the island of Crete, also became the father of a baby boy. Minos loved his child very much and watched over him with great fatherly care, and the boy was taught all the arts which at that time were thought fitting for a prince.

Every year the people of Athens had a festival, in which all the young men of Greece and the neighboring islands met to try their skill in various games. When the prince of Crete had grown up, his father told him he might take part in the festival, and so he went to Athens. Before long almost every one in Athens grew to like him, for he was a frank, generous youth, and most skillful in all the games in which he took part. Only Aegeus, the king of Athens, did not care for him. He was jealous of young stranger; and one night, as the boy was travel

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