From Bulfinch's Mythology: Meleager and Atalanta - anthology.

« Althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself.

The sisters of Meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollable grief; till Diana, pitying thesorrows of the house that once had aroused her anger, turned them into birds. Atalanta The innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy.

Her fortune had been told, and itwas to this effect: 'Atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your ruin.' Terrified by this oracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports of thechase.

To all suitors (for she had many) she imposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of their persecutions,—'I will be the prize of him whoshall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail.' In spite of this hard condition some would try.

Hippomenes was to be judge of therace.

'Can it be possible that any will be so rash as to risk so much for a wife?' said he.

But when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he changed his mind, andsaid, 'Pardon me, youths, I knew not the prize you were competing for.' As he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled with envy of any one thatseemed at all likely to win.

While such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward.

As she ran she looked more beautiful than ever.

The breezes seemed to givewings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her.

A ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as acrimson curtain casts on a marble wall.

All her competitors were distanced, and were put to death without mercy.

Hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixing hiseyes on the virgin, said, 'Why boast of beating those laggards? I offer myself for the contest.' Atalanta looked at him with a pitying countenance, and hardly knewwhether she would rather conquer him or not.

'What god can tempt one so young and handsome to throw himself away? I pity him, not for his beauty (yet he isbeautiful), but for his youth.

I wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so mad, I hope he may outrun me.' While she hesitates, revolving these thoughts, thespectators grow impatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare.

Then Hippomenes addressed a prayer to Venus: 'Help me, Venus, for you have led meon.' Venus heard and was propitious. In the garden of her temple, in her own island of Cyprus, is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches and golden fruit.

Hence she gathered three golden apples,and unseen by any one else, gave them to Hippomenes, and told him how to use them.

The signal is given; each starts from the goal and skims over the sand.

So lighttheir tread, you would almost have thought they might run over the river surface or over the waving grain without sinking.

The cries of the spectators cheeredHippomenes,—'Now, now, do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! one more effort!' It was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden heard these crieswith the greater pleasure.

But his breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off.

At that moment he threw down one of the golden apples.

The virginwas all amazement.

She stopped to pick it up.

Hippomenes shot ahead.

Shouts burst forth from all sides.

She redoubled her efforts, and soon overtook him.

Again hethrew an apple.

She stopped again, but again came up with him.

The goal was near; one chance only remained.

'Now, goddess,' said he, 'prosper your gift!' and threwthe last apple off at one side.

She looked at it, and hesitated; Venus impelled her to turn aside for it.

She did so, and was vanquished.

The youth carried off his prize. But the lovers were so full of their own happiness that they forgot to pay due honour to Venus; and the goddess was provoked at their ingratitude.

She caused them togive offence to Cybele.

That powerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity.

She took from them their human form and turned them into animals ofcharacters resembling their own: of the huntress-heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and of her lord and master a lion, and yoked themto her car, where they are still to be seen in all representations, in statuary or painting, of the goddess Cybele. Cybele is the Latin name of the goddess called by the Greeks Rhea and Ops.

She was the wife of Cronos and mother of Zeus.

In works of art she exhibits thematronly air which distinguishes Juno and Ceres.

Sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn bylions.

She wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements.

Her priests were called Corybantes. [Nineteenth-century poet Lord George Gordon Noel] Byron, in describing the city of Venice, which is built on a low island in the Adriatic Sea, borrows anillustration from Cybele: 'She looks a sea-Cybele fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towersAt airy distance, with majestic motion,A ruler of the waters and their powers.'Childe Harold, IV. In [19th-century Irish poet Thomas] Moore's 'Rhymes on the Road,' the poet, speaking of Alpine scenery, alludes to the story of Atalanta and Hippomenes thus: 'Even here, in this region of wonders, I findThat light-footed Fancy leaves Truth far behind,Or at least, like Hippomenes, turns her astrayBy the golden illusions he flings in her way.'. »