HOW THE ROSE BECAME RED. 
57 
until high over all towered the god-haunted height 
of cloud capt Olympus, rising with its clouded-head, 
like another world, on the uttermost rim of the 
horizon. At the foot of this immense world of 
untrodden mountains, opened out a wide, immea¬ 
surable forest, stretching far away, league beyond 
league, with its unexplored ocean of trees, which 
were bounded somewhere by another range of un¬ 
known mountains, that again overlooked a vast, 
silent, and unpeopled world. On the edge of this 
pathless desert of trees, and nearest the foot of 
Olympus, sat the Queen of Beauty and of Love ; 
with her golden tresses unbound, and her matchless 
countenance buried within the palms of her milk- 
white hands, while sobbing as if her fond, immortal 
heart, would break. Beside her was laid the dead 
body of Adonis, his face half-hidden beneath the 
floating fall of her hair, as she bent over him and 
wept. Beyond them lay the stiffened bulk of the 
grim and grisly boar, his hideous jaws flecked with 
blood and foam, and his terrible tusks glittering 
like the heads of pointed spears, as they stood out 
sharp, and white, in the unclouded sunset. Not an 
immortal comforter was by: for the far-seeing eye 
of Jove was fixed listlessly upon the golden nectar- 
cup, as it passed from hand to hand, along the 
rounded circle of the Gods, whilst they were re¬ 
counting the deeds of other days, when they waged 
