st till
a mortal man should bring hither the Gorgon head which can turn all
living things to stone. For so was it shown to me from Zeus, when he
made me bow down beneath the weight of the brazen heaven. Yet, if thou
hast slain Medusa, Zeus hath been more merciful to me than to
Prometheus who was his friend, for he lies nailed on the rugged crags
of Caucasus, and only thy child in the third generation shall scare
away the vulture which gnaws his heart, and set the Titan free. But
hasten now, Perseus, and let me look on the Gorgon's face, for the
agony of my labor is well nigh greater than I can bear." So Perseus
hearkened to the words of Atlas, and he unveiled before him the dead
face of Medusa. Eagerly he gazed for a moment on the changeless
countenance, as though beneath the blackness of great horror he could
yet see the wreck of her ancient beauty and pitied her for her
hopeless woe. But in an instant the straining eyes were closed, the
heaving breast was still, the limbs which trembled with the weight of
heaven were still and cold, and it seemed to Perseus, as he rose again
into the pale yellow air, that the gray hairs which streamed from the
giant's head were like the snow which rests on the peaks of the great
mountain, and that in place of the trembling limbs he saw only the
rents and clefts on a rough hill-side.

Onward yet and higher he sped, he knew not whither, on the golden
sandals, till from the murky glare of the Gorgon land he passed into a
soft and tender light, in which all things wore the colors of a dream.
It was not the light of sun or moon, for in that land was neither day
nor night. No breeze wafted the light clouds of morning through the
sky, or stirred the leaves of the forest trees where the golden fruits
glistened the whole year round, but from beneath rose the echoes of
sweet music, as he glided gently down to the earth. Then he took the
helmet of Hades from off his head, and asked the people whom he met
the name of this happy land, and they said, "We dwell where the icy
breath of Boreas can not chill the air or wither our fruits, therefore
is our land called the garden of the Hyperboreans." There, for a
while, Perseus rested from his toil, and all day long he saw the
dances of happy maidens fair as Hebe and Harmonia, and he shared the
rich banquets at which the people of the land feasted with wreaths of
laurel twined around their head. There he rested in a deep peace, for
no sound of strife or