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THE COURANT; A SOUTHERN LITERARY JOURNAL.

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"Pluto coming back!" exclaimed the queen; and she
gave Cyane a pinch that made the poor girl's arm black
and blue. "What, in Jove's name, is the matter?"

"No matter at all, your majesty, but Nycteus, one of
his four black studs, has cast a shoe, and our master has
ordered him to Lemnos, that Vulcan may repair the
damage. But here he comes."

"Ah, truant," exclaimed Proserpina, throwing her
mantle gracefully back, and extending her white hand,
for she deemed it prudent to enact the deserted spouse,
"can nought but mischance bring thee to my side!
What minion wast thou but now in quest of, to usurp
my place and honours, while I count, in loneliness and
sadness, the hours of thy absence?" And she averted
her face, and covered her dark eyes.

Pluto's nature was stubborn, but he could never abide
the sight of a woman's tears. All he shed were iron;
and there was something in the softness of liquid sorrow
that melted his very soul. So he applied himself to
soothe his aggrieved wife; wiped her eyes with her
cambric handkerchief, and promised, on the honour of a
king, never to swerve from his affection to her.

"Cheer up, my flower! we must have no sorrow on
the anniversary of our wedding. Cheer up! Look,
there is some one in Charon's barge!"

Proserpina started up in confusion, as the boat touched
the hither strand, and two figures appeared, marshalled
by the sullen herdsman. They landed, and one ad-
vanced. It was a youth, of perfect figure, and a face
that shamed the morning. As he stopped not to pay
his fare, Pluto's suspicions were excited.

"This is your solitude!" said he to his lady wife.
"Pray, what office is yon fair stripling, who, it seems,
had your previous warrant to pass, destined to fill in
your household?"

Proserpina trembled, but she was too proud to shew
fear, and answered boldly, "my cup-bearer."

"Your cup-bearer, forsooth! You must ape the dei-
ties of heaven in all their follies and vices! Out upon
you!" cried the monarch, as he stamped his foot; the
blow shook the foundations of hell and of the earth; the
tides of ocean receded, and the inhabitants of Sicily re-
corded another earthquake.

"Oh Pluto! a truce to your stuff!" gaily answered
his wife, in a voice of music, that penetrated the reces-
ses of Erebus. "Have done with your folly, and receive
your visitor. See you not, it is Mercury?"

The black-haired king had already perceived his mis-
take, and felt ashamed of his violence, as the beautiful
stranger approached. The wings attached to his helmet
and sandals, and the wings upon his wand of gold en-
twined with emerald serpents, denoted the messenger of
Jove. The sword by which Argus fell was girt to his
side, and a lyre hung neglected over his shoulders,
half covered by his profusion of bright golden curls.
His eye was clear and piercing, and his step light and
swift, as he drew nigh the throne. He bowed gracefully
to Pluto, kissed the fair hand of Proserpina, and hoped
he found his kinswoman in good health.

"Apollo sends you this with his compliments," said
the youthful deity, presenting the queen with a rose-
coloured note, perfumed and sealed with red wax. Then
he turned to Pluto, and they were soon deep in the dis-
cussion of the politics of heaven. These, and the gos-
sip of the court of Jove, excluded Proserpina and con-
fidant from their attention.

"Lo, Cyane," said her mistress, reddening with vexa-
tion, "Apollo has the insolence to propose me a substitute
for Admetus! And the Parcae, he says, have promised
to excuse the prince's death, provided some voluntary
victim can be found to fill his place. They think to
pass his wife upon me; but I will send her back to him
—that I will! They might have asked my leave!
Summon hither yon shivering ghost. I would see who
has had the courage to brave my presence uncalled
for."

Mercury stepped back, and beckoned his companion
to the foot of the throne. Slowly and timidly the shade
approached, with face concealed, gliding through the
throng of attendants eager for a glance at the new-comer.

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It stopped at some distance from the Stygian sove-
reigns.

"Come nearer," said the empress of the dead, in a
softer tone, "and doff thy mantle."

The spirit obeyed, and the shroud falling, revealed a
countenance and figure of transcendent loveliness. The

face was passing pale, and the calm, passionless eyes and
were unshadowed by thought or emotion; nor moved the
fair locks that hung from the clear temples with the
breath from the colourless lips. It stood motionless, yet
quivering, like the shadow of some beautiful statue seen
in the trembling pool.

"Now, by the helmet of the Cyclops," exclaimed
Pluto, gazing upon the vision, "it is a lovely one!
Whom have you brought us, Mercury?"

"It is the bride of Thessaly. She suffers in her hus-
band's stead, who lives for having sheltered Phoebus,"
answered Mercury, hesitating a little, for he was too
much given to lying not to find difficulty in speaking
the truth.

"Thessaly was a fool to part with her," said the god.
She is a pretty one, and shall fare bravely. Here,
some of you, give her in charge to Eacus. She shall
become one of us. So, my love, you never told me it
was a lady cup-bearer you expected? That was quite a
different affair. How could you sport with my fondness?
Fie—Proserpina!"

"And fie—Pluto! to frown upon one who shares thy
throne. Verily—thou art quick to suspicion; whereas,
in aught that concerned thy consort's truth of speech—

"Duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
That roots itself at ease on Lethe wharf."*

"I say amen to that," said Mercury, who always took
part with the ladies. "Down, vile cur! I wish, good
kinsman, you would teach this dog of yours better man-
ners. Here he has daubed my court dress with the mud
of the Acherusian fen. Was there ever such a coil!
Down with you, fellow!"

Cerberus burst into a yell of agony, and retreated
towards his master, with his three heads stooped to the
ground, and his immense bushy tail sweeping the floor
behind him. The cause of his alarm was soon apparent.
A brawny figure was seen half-way across the river of
hell, grasping Charon's two oars, and urging the bark
onwards with incredible speed. The sullen old man
was swearing most lustily at being compelled to play the
part of an idle passenger in his own boat, which shot
over the waters with such swiftness as to curl the slug-
gish wave, and leave a wake of foam. It touched the
side; the figure leaped on shore; bestowed a hearty box
upon the ferryman, and pursued by his execrations, ap-
approached the imperial palace, and strode into the
presence.

"You are welcome Hercules," said the queen, who
was the first to recover from her surprise. "You are
welcome to our court. How goes on the earth?"

"Not quite well, your highness," answered the son of
Alcmena, saluting Pluto and the winged deity, "else I
had not come hither to complain. How do you do, my
pretty Cyane? It is long since I have seen your face."

"It is indeed long," politely replied Pluto, "since we
last greeted you in the shades."

"And then my errand was no peaceful one. Be quiet,
monster! (the hound had crouched for protection under
the chairs, and was growling with fear and rage)—thou
need'st not again dread the upper air. Earth had
enough of thee on thy last visit. But to the point; I
come to ask a dear boon of your hignesses."

"What boon shall the mighty Alcides ask, that I will
not grant!" cried the Stygian Juno.

"Trust to my well-known generosity," said Pluto.

"I thank your graces both," answered Hercules tak-
ing snuff, "and will unfold my wishes. The youthful
consort of Admetus has just passed into your dominions.
Her lord, frantic at her loss, is almost expiring with
grief. Moved by the sight of his woe, I have sworn,

_________________________________________
* As the greatest authors have been, at one time or another con-
victed of plagiarism, our readers must not be surprised at the dis-
covery of this source of the words of Shakespeare. Where could
"the buried majesty of Denmark" learn such language, save among
the other "secrets of his prison-house."

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by immortal Jove, to implore at your hands the lost
Alcestis. Let me conduct her back to earth. Seal
your empire over the world by one great act of clem-
ency, and make happy two faithful lovers, by restoring
them to each other. You hesitate; hear yet a word"—
and he whispered in the ear of his majesty, "Do this,
and I will send you Diomedes and his horses."

Pluto and Proserpina looked at each other while the
son of Alcmena spoke. Images of felicity and blighted
affection, and restored happiness, swam before their
fancy. The queen thought of the bright fields of Enna,
and her youthful companions, and her shepherd lovers;
and the monarch thought of his bride in her earth-born
beauty, and her charming bashfulness, and his swift
chariot, and the Cecropian cave. As for Mercury, he
was too well bred to interfere in a delicate matter. So
he turned on his heel, and whistled a tune.

"This must be looked into," at length replied the
king of Hades. "But it is no easy matter to reverse
the decree of fate. In the mean time, you must sup
with us, my good lad. This, you know, is our wedding-
day; and Proserpina has devised a little party, and a
dance, and so forth, having bespoken Orpheus himself
for her fiddler. So, come along; give Madame your
arm, Mercury, we will be happy of your company; but
I see you are in haste, therefore will not detain you
from your ambrosia and nectar on Olympus. Make
my compliments to Jupiter and the ladies. Come on
Alcides."

* * * * * * * *

Thrice had the hours on the Thessalian plain measured
the westering sun; the growing shade upon the dial's
changing plate in vain had warned the shepherd; matron,
youth, and maid, and grey-haired sire poured from the
city's breast where every toil for a brief space had rest.
They came to pay the last funeral right to their lost
queen. Upon the bier she lay, lovely in death; her
shrouded face more white than e'er the royal rose.
Along the way that led to Pluto's temple, on the ground
were scattered cypress boughs; and far around the
hands of pious friends strewed sacred buds. Within
the hallowed fane the victims stood, three sable bulls;
their brows with cypress crowned, and adianthus, and
the daffodil, mingling their modest hues and sad perfume
sacred to him who rules beyond the tomb.

Thrice had the priest invoked the sacred name, and
thrice returned the flame of sacrifice that burnt before
the shrine. Then lifting high the knife, "This hand of
mine," he cried, "dread Pluto, that devotes to thee this
offering, (oh, accepted may it be!) was never stained
with crime! So thou receive the sacrifice! Immortal
Proserpine! In thy rich mercy, to the lost one give a
glorious doom in the Elysian plains! And grant where
now keen anguish only reigns in our Admetus' breast,
the peace divine of pious resignation may abide, serene
as her's who for her consort died!"

He ended, and the weeping train came nigh; with
sighs suppressed in vain the hoary Pheres and Clymene,
with her sad veiled brow, were seen. Bereaved Adme-
tus, lifting toward the skies his clasped beseeching
hands; with sympathizing woe a band of pious youths
their king surround, with flowing locks, and eyes that
seek the ground.

"Lo!" cried the priest, "is there not one of all who
silent stand by this untimely pall, to tell her praises who
thus coldly lies the bride of death!" He said; with
kindling eyes a youth stepped forth; grasping the rural
lyre, to sing; with trembling lips and heart on fire.

"Gracious Apollo I invoke; and thee, first of the
Nine, renowned Caliope! who sit'st in splendour on the
mountain height where soar the swans, with crest of
glancing light, that yet beside the Heliconian spring
arch the proud neck, and curve the sounding wing.
Assist my strain; for now I boldly sing of worth might
ask its music, were my tongue hallowed as his with whom
Olympus rung.

"And Pheres, chide not thou my humble strain, nor,
prince, of minstrel vanity complain, if with those vir-
tues I would twine my song, which to the daughter
and the bride belong. Noble she was, and pure! with