s of that god. He is essentially the
god of deceit. His deceptions are more subtle and deep-laid than those
of the Grecian adept. He combines with the Pagan element something of
the old Christian Satanic element. Without the horn and hoof of the
Christian devil, he has all his peculiar mental qualities, and uses them
to the great prejudice and harm of the other gods. So, likewise, with
many of the more human [Greek: muthoi]. We find the same ideas to spring
up in the agora of Athens, the wilds and snows of Norway, and the
heathers and hills of Scotland. The fable of the Sirens finds an exact
counterpart in the North. Like Ulysses, Duke Magnus and innumerable
others escape with difficulty from the charms and enticements of
sea-nymphs. Sometimes it is their wonderful song which the earth and
the elements obey as they did Orpheus, that attracts them. Sometimes it
is by more sensual blandishments, and sometimes by sweet and tender
persuasion, _suadae medulla_. Mountain elves start from the ground, and
from unseen caverns, and attempt to entice brave knights to their ruin;
they dance round them beneath the trees, and endeavor to make them join
in their dances. The natural fortitude of the stalwart champions is
rarely able to resist the temptation, and they are always on the point
of falling, when some unoffending barn-yard fowl sounds the signal for
retreat, or some Christian word is uttered, or sign made, and the fair
visions vanish, either naturally or in divers shapes with odors of
brimstone and sulphur. The differences between the Grecian and the
Northern conceptions are striking. In the Greek the forms are clear and
vivid. The sirens are beautiful women, with angelic voices and vulture's
talons. There are nothing but conceivable realities in their story.
There is nothing strange or supernatural in their accessories. But in
the Scandinavian elves the case is different. They vanish and reaeppear
at different times; they have no actual, permanent existence. The crow
of a cock or the sign of the cross is enough to drive them back to their
hiding-places. They shun daylight and fixed, customary spots. They
generally surprise casual travelers, and upon them in lone, romantic
spots, practice all their arts of enticement and seduction. There is
always something of magic, of the supernatural, connected with them. The
Greek sirens are not like common women; but once conceive of their
physical existence, and you understand them thoro