The fall of these monsters shook the earth, so that Hades was alarmed, and feared that his kingdom would be laid open to the light of day. Under this apprehension, he mounted his chariot, drawn by black horses, and took a circuit of inspection to satisfy himself of the extent of the damage. While he was thus engaged Aphrodite, who was sitting on Mount Eryx playing with her boy Eros, espied him, and said, "My son, take your darts with which you conquer all, even Jove himself, and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of Tartarus. Why should he alone escape? Seize the opportunity to extend your empire and mine. Do you not see that even in heaven some despise our power? Athena the Wise and Artemis the Huntress defy us; and there is that daughter of Demeter, who threatens to follow their example. Now do you, if you have any regard for your own interest or mine, join these two in one."

The boy unbound his quiver, and selected his sharpest and truest arrow; then straining the bow against his knee, he attached the string, and, having made ready, shot the arrow with its barbed point right into the heart of Hades.

In the vale of Enna there is a lake embowered in woods, which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and Cloris reigns perpetual. Here Persephone was playing with her companions, gathering lilies and violets and filling her basket and her apron with them when Hades saw her, loved her and carried her off. She screamed for help to her mother and companions; and when in her fright she dropped the corners of her apron and let the flowers fall, childlike she felt the loss of them as an addition to her grief. The ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them each by name, and throwing loose over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins. When he reached the River Styx and it opposed his passage, he struck the river-bank with his scepter and the earth opened and gave him a passage to Tartarus.

Demeter sought her daughter all over the world. Bright-haired Eos, goddess of the Dawn, when she came forth in the morning, and Helios when he led out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in the search. But it was all unavailing. At length, weary and sad, she sat down upon a stone, and continued sitting nine days and nights, in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and falling showers. It was where now stands the city of Eleusis, then the home of an old man named Celeus. He was out in the field, gathering acorns and blackberries and sticks for his fire. His little girl was driving home their two goats, and as she passed the goddess, who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said to her, "Mother,"--and the name was sweet to the ears of Demeter,--"why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?"

The old man also stopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her to come into his cottage, such as it was. She declined, and he urged her.

"Go in peace," she replied, "and be happy in your daughter; I have lost mine." As she spoke, tears--or something like tears, for the gods never weep--fell down her cheeks upon her bosom. The compassionate old man and his child wept with her.

Then said he, "Come with us, and despise not our humble roof; so may your daughter be restored to you in safety."

"Lead on," said she, "I cannot resist that appeal!"

So she rose from the stone and went with them. As they walked he told her that his only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish, and sleepless. She stooped and gathered some poppies. As they entered the cottage, they found all in great distress, for the boy seemed past hope of recovery. Metanira, his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stooped and kissed the lips of the sick child. Instantly the paleness left his face, and healthy vigor returned to his body. The whole family were delighted--that is, the father, mother, and little girl, for they were all; they had no servants. They spread the table, and put upon it curds and cream, apples and honey in the comb. While they ate, Demeter added poppy juice to the boy's milk.

When night came and all was still, she arose, and taking the sleeping boy, moulded his limbs with her hands and uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. His mother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with a cry and snatched the child from the fire. Then Demeter assumed her own form and a divine splendor shone all around.

While the family was overcome with astonishment, she said, "Mother, you have been cruel in your fondness to your son. I would have made him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt. Nevertheless, he shall be great and useful. He shall teach men the use of the plough, and the rewards which labor can win from the cultivated soil." So saying, she wrapped a cloud about her, and mounting her chariot, rode away.

Demeter continued her search for her daughter, passing from land to land, and across seas and rivers, till at length she returned to Sicily, whence she at first set out, and stood by the banks of the River Styx, where Hades had made himself a passage with his prize to his own dominion. The river nymph would have told the goddess all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of Hades; so she only ventured to take up the girdle which Persephone had dropped in her flight, and waft it to the feet of the mother. Demeter, seeing this was no longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the cause and laid the blame on the innocent land.

"Ungrateful soil," said she, "which I have endowed with fertility and clothed with herbage and nourishing grain, no more shall you enjoy my favors." Then the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the seed failed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too much rain; the birds stole the seeds--thistles and brambles were the only growth. Seeing this, the fountain Arethusa interceded for the land.

"Goddess," said she, "blame not the land; it opened unwillingly to yield a passage to your daughter. I can tell you of her fate, for I have seen her. This is not my native country; I came hither from Elis. I was a woodland nymph, and delighted in the chase. They praised my beauty, but I cared nothing for it, and rather boasted of my hunting exploits. One day I was returning from the wood, heated with exercise, when I came to a stream silently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on the bottom. The willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down to the water's edge. I approached, I touched the water with my foot. I stepped in knee-deep, and not content with that, I laid my garments on the willows and went in. While I sported in the water, I heard an indistinct murmur coming up as out of the depths of the stream: and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. The voice said, 'Why do you fly, Arethusa? I am Alpheus, the god of this stream.' I ran, he pursued; he was not more swift than I, but he was stronger, and gained upon me, as my strength failed. At last, exhausted, I cried for help to Artemis. 'Help me, goddess! help your votary!' The goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in a thick cloud. The river god looked now this way and now that, and twice came close to me, but could not find me. 'Arethusa! Arethusa!' he cried. Oh, how I trembled,--like a lamb that hears the wolf growling outside the fold. A cold sweat came over me, my hair flowed down in streams; where my foot stood there was a pool. In short, in less time than it takes to tell it I became a fountain. But in this form Alpheus knew me and attempted to mingle his stream with mine. Artemis cleft the ground, and I, endeavoring to escape him, plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of the earth came out here in Sicily. While I passed through the lower parts of the earth, I saw your Persephone. She was sad, but no longer showing alarm in her countenance. Her look was such as became a queen--the queen of Erebus; the powerful bride of the monarch of the realms of the dead."

When Demeter heard this, she stood for a while like one stupefied; then turned her chariot towards heaven, and hastened to present herself before the throne of Zeus. She told the story of her bereavement, and implored Zeus to interfere to procure the restitution of her daughter. Zeus consented on one condition, namely, that Persephone should not during her stay in the lower world have taken any food; otherwise, the Fates forbade her release. Accordingly, Hermes was sent, accompanied by Chloris, to demand Persephone of Hades. The wily monarch consented; but, alas! the maiden had taken a pomegranate which Hades offered her, and had sucked the sweet pulp from six of the seeds. This was enough to prevent her complete release; but a compromise was made, by which she was to pass half the time with her mother, and the rest with her husband Hades.