Halcyon

CHÆREPHON: WHAT voice is that, Socrates, a good way off from the shore? How sweet it is to the ear! I wonder what creature it can be, for the inhabitants of the deep are all mute.

SOCRATES: It is a sea-fowl, Chærephon, called the Halcyon, always crying and lamenting. They tell an old tale concerning it; that it was formerly a woman, the daughter of Æolus, a Grecian, who married Ceyx, of Trachis, the son of Lucifer, beautiful as his father; that when he died she mourned his loss incessantly, and, by divine permission, was changed into a bird, and, after wandering in vain over all the earth in search of him, is now perpetually hovering over the sea.

CHÆREPHON: Halcyon, do you call it? It is a voice I never heard before, and has something in it wonderous plaintive: how big is it?

SOCRATES: Very small; but the gods, they say, bestowed on her a great reward for her singular affection to her husband: whilst she makes her nest, the world is blest with Halcyon days, such as this is, placid and serene, even in the midst of winter. Observe how clear the sky is, and the whole ocean tranquil, smooth as a glass, without a curl upon it.

CHÆREPHON: This, indeed, is, as you say, a Halcyon day, and so was yesterday; but how, Socrates, can we believe the tales you spoke of, that women can be turned into birds, and birds into women? nothing seems to me more improbable.

SOCRATES: Short-sighted mortals, my dear Chærephon, are but poor judges of what may or may not be: we cannot go farther than human abilities will permit us, and which are seldom able to see, know, or determine aright. The easiest things appear difficult to us, and the plainest incomprehensible; partly from the want of knowlege and experience, partly from the weak and infantine state of our minds: all men in reality are but children, be they ever so far advanced in years; for brief as childhood, is, the utmost extent of life: how then can those, who know not the power of gods and demons, say what is possible or impossible?

You saw, my friend,, how dreadful the storm was but three days ago; the thunder, lightning, and fury of the winds; we shudder even at the thoughts of it; one would have imagined the whole earth was torn to pieces, and sinking into ruin; and yet in a short time after all was placid and serene, and has continued so to this moment. Was it not, think you, as difficult to still the rage of that tempest, to change the face of heaven, and adorn it with this tranquil beauty, as to transform a woman into a bird?

Children, who know how to model in wax or earth, will imitate various forms from the same materials; and shall not the divine power, so wonderful, and superior to our own, command and perform all things with ease and pleasure? Canst thou tell how much greater the heavens are than thyself?

CHÆREPHON: What man, O Socrates, can conceive or declare it? It is infinitely more than words can express.

SOCRATES: How much do men, when compared one with another, differ in strength and power! How much from themselves, at different periods of their lives! What changes, both of mind and body, happen in the space of a few years! How superior are men to children! Insomuch that one may with ease destroy a thousand: infancy is, by the law of nature, weak and destitute of all things. If man thus differs from man, what must be the infinite distance between us and heaven! Doubtless as much as the whole world is greater than Socrates or Chærephon, so much must the divine Power and Intellect exceed our weak and limited capacities.

Things, moreover, which you and I, and many more like ourselves, think impracticable, others will perform with ease: playing on the flute, to those who have never learned; writing, or reading, to the ignorant and illiterate; is, perhaps, as difficult as to make women out of birds, or birds out of women. Nature finds a creature dropped in the hive, without feet or wings, she adds both, adorns it with a variety of beautiful colours, and produces the wise and provident bee, the artificer of divine honey: from the dumb and lifeless egg she brings forth a thousand different species of birds, aquatic and terrestrial, by the assistance, and under the direction of the supreme Will.

Since, therefore, so great is the power of the gods, and we weak mortals are neither able to dive into deep mysteries, nor even to judge as we ought of the little things around us, let us not pretend to determine any thing concerning Halcyons or nightingales. For my own part, as I received the tradition from my forefathers, I will deliver it to my children: thy hymns, melodious mourner, will I ever remember, and celebrate thy pious conjugal affection, telling thy tale to my wives Myrto and Xantippe, not forgetting the honour which thou hast received from the gods: thou, Chærephon, I hope, wilt do the same.

CHÆREPHON: That you may be assured I will: for what you have remarked may be profitable both to husbands and wives.

SOCRATES: Salute Halcyone, then, and let us away to the city.

CHÆREPHON: I attend you.