3

§ 40. Venus, goddess of love and beauty, was, according to the more ancient Greek conception, a daughter of Jupiter and Dione;" but Hesiod says that she arose from the foam of the sea at the time of the wounding of Uranus, and therefore was called, by the Greeks, Aphrodite, the foam-born. Wafted by the west wind, and borne upon the surge, she won first the island of Cythera; thence, like a dream, she passed to Cyprus, where the grace and blossom of her beauty conquered every heart. Everywhere, at the touch of her feet the herbage quivered into flower. The Hours and Graces surrounded her, twining odorous garlands and weaving robes for her, that reflected the hues, and breathed the perfume, of crocus and hyacinth, violet, rose, lily, and narcissus. To her influence is ascribed the fruitfulness of the animal and of the vegetable creation. She is goddess of gardens and flowers, of the rose, the myrtle, and the linden. The heaths and slumberous vales, pleasant with spring and vernal breezes, are hers. In her broidered girdle lurk "love and desire, and loving converse that steals the wits even of the wise." For she is the mistress of feminine charm and beauty, the golden, sweetly-smiling Aphrodite, who rules the hearts of men. She lends to mortals seductive form and

1 Ben Jonson, Hymn to Diana. 2 Iliad 5: 370, etc. 3 A popular etymology.

fascination. To a few, indeed, her favor is a blessing; but to many her gifts are treacherous, destructive of peace. Her various influence is exemplified in the stories of Pygmalion and Adonis, Paris and Æneas, Helen, Ariadne, Psyche, Procris, Pasiphaë, and Phædra. Her power extended over sea as well as land; and her temples rose from many a shore. On the waters swan and dolphin were beloved of her; in air, the sparrow and the dove. She was usually attended by her winged son Cupid, of whom much is to be told. Especially dear to her were Cyprus, Cnidos, Paphos, Cythera, Abydos, Mount Eryx, and the city of Corinth.

Of artistic conceptions of Aphrodite, the most famous are the statues called the Venus of Melos, and the Venus of the Medici.1 A comparison of the two conceptions is instituted in the following poem.2 The worshipper apostrophizes the Venus of Melos, that "inner beauty of the world," whose tranquil smile he finds more fair than "The Medicean's sly and servile grace": —

"From our low world no gods have taken wing;
Even now upon our hills the twain are wandering: 3
The Medicean's sly and servile grace,

And the immortal beauty of thy face.

One is the spirit of all short-lived love

And outward, earthly loveliness:

The tremulous rosy morn is her mouth's smile,

The sky, her laughing azure eyes above;

And, waiting for caress,

Lie bare the soft hill-slopes, the while

Her thrilling voice is heard

In song of wind and wave, and every flitting bird.

Not plainly, never quite herself she shows:

Just a swift glance of her illumined smile

Along the landscape goes;

1 For Venus in poetry and art, see Commentary, § 40.

2 From the Venus of Milo by E. R. Sill, formerly professor of English Literature

in the University of California. The cut, p. 67, represents the Melos.

8 The references are to the

Berkeley Hills, the Bay of San Francisco, and the

glimpses of the Pacific.

Just a soft hint of singing, to beguile

A man from all his toil;

Some vanished gleam of beckoning arm, to spoil

A morning's task with longing, wild
and vain.

Then if across the parching plain
He seek her, she with passion burns
His heart to fever, and he hears
The west wind's mocking laughter
when he turns,

Shivering in mist of ocean's sullen
tears.

It is the Medicean: well I know The arts her ancient subtlety will show,

The stubble field she turns to ruddy gold;

The empty distance she will fold
In purple gauze; the warm glow
she has kissed

Along the chilling mist:
Cheating and cheated love that
grows to hate

And ever deeper loathing, soon or
late.

Thou, too, O fairer spirit, walkest

here

Upon the lifted hills:

Wherever that still thought within the breast

The inner beauty of the world hath moved;

In starlight that the dome of evening fills;

On endless waters rounding to the

west:

For them who thro' that beauty's

veil have loved

The soul of all things beautiful

the best.