iant Cyclopes, who shaped
the fiery lightnings far down in the depths of the burning mountain.
Then the anger of Zeus was kindled against his own child, the
golden-haired Apollo, and he spake the word that he should be banished
from the home of the gods to the dark Stygian land. But the lady Leto
fell at his knees and besought him for her child, and the doom was
given that a whole year long he should serve as a bondsman in the
house of Admetos, who ruled in Pherai.

IXION.

Fair as the blushing clouds which float in early morning across the
blue heaven, the beautiful Dia gladdened the hearts of all who dwelt
in the house of her father Hesioneus. There was no guile in her soft
clear eye, for the light of Eos was not more pure than the light of
the maiden's countenance. There was no craft in her smile, for on her
rested the love and the wisdom of Athene. Many a chieftain sought to
win her for his bride; but her heart beat with love only for Ixion the
beautiful and mighty, who came to the halls of Hesioneus with horses
which can not grow old or die. The golden hair flashed a glory from
his head dazzling as the rays which stream from Helios when he drives
his chariot up the heights of heaven, and his flowing robe glistened
as he moved like the vesture which the sun-god gave to the wise maiden
Medeia, who dwelt in Kolchis.

[Illustration: MINERVA, OR PALLAS ATHENE. (_Found in
Pompeii._)]

Long time Ixion abode in the house of Hesioneus, for Hesioneus was
loth to part with his child. But at the last Ixion sware to give for
her a ransom precious as the golden fruits which Helios wins from the
teeming earth. So the word was spoken, and Dia the fair became the
wife of the son of Amythaon, and the undying horses bare her away in
his gleaming chariot. Many a day and month and year the fiery steeds
of Helios sped on their burning path, and sank down hot and wearied in
the western sea; but no gifts came from Ixion, and Hesioneus waited in
vain for the wealth which had tempted him to barter away his child.
Messenger after messenger went and came, and always the tidings were
that Ixion had better things to do than to waste his wealth on the
mean and greedy. "Tell him," he said, "that every day I journey across
the wide earth, gladdening the hearts of the children of men, and that
his child has now a more glorious home than that of the mighty gods
who dwell on the high Olympos. What would he have more?" Then day by
day