Apollo and Daphne.

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Was it not well, Apollo, for revenge
Of thine, my stronghold should imprison me?
Surely thou art content. No dream of thine
For mockery, because I loved thee not,
Could have matched bitterness with this, this spell
That holds me fast in answer to my prayer.
Then crown thy lyre, if thou wilt so,
With my unwilling leaves. And let them be
Symbol to men, of triumph; nay, but hear;
To thee, memorial that I whisper now:
The eternal thing thou shall not overtake,
Token of Daphne whom thou couldst not thrall,
And Song that hath the sov’reignty,—not thou.
J.P. Peabody.

STORY.
APOLLO’S FIRST LOVE.

One bright morning Daphne, a charming nymph with flowing hair and sparkling eyes, was sporting in the forest. Apollo, passing by, saw the maiden and forthwith fell in love with her. He longed to obtain her, but before he could reach her side she fled. He called to her to dismiss her fears and listen to his love. He assured her of his sincerity, of his standing.

“You fly, alas, not knowing whom you fly,
No ill-bred swain, nor rustic clown am I.”
Prior.

But Daphne continued her flight, pausing not a moment to listen to his plea. Apollo pursued and gained upon her in the race. She called upon her father, the river god, for protection. “Help!” she cried, “open the earth to enclose me or change my form which has brought me into this danger.” A moment more and her feet seemed rooted to the ground. A rough bark enclosed her quivering limbs. The woodiness crept upward and by degrees invested her whole body. Her trembling hands were filled with leaves. She was changed into a laurel tree. Apollo, reaching out to embrace her, clasped the still warm tree and showered kisses on its leaves.

“I espouse thee for my tree;
Be thou the prize of honor and renown;
The deathless poet and the poem crown:
Thou shalt the Roman festivals adorn,
But after poets be by victors worn.”
Dryden.

INTERPRETATION.

Daphne is a personification of the morning dew which vanishes beneath the sun’s hot rays and leaves no trace of its passage except in luxuriant verdure.

ART.

This remarkable group was executed by Bernini—sometimes called Michael Angelo the second—when he was but eighteen years old, and is now in the Villa Borghese, Rome. Near the close of his long life Bernini declared that he had made little progress after its production.

The flying nymph is seized by the young god and is already being changed into a laurel tree. The upraised hands are terminated by twigs and leaves instead of fingers. The wonderful manner in which the lower limbs are barked about is difficult to describe.

The technical details and mechanical skill of this group excel anything of the kind ever attempted, and the work is such as would beforehand have been pronounced an impossibility.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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