"Here is the Good Goddess, the Idæan of the mountains, the Great Mother of Syria! Come ye hither, good people all!
[Illustration: Here is the Good Goddess, the Idæan of the mountains ...]
"She gives joy to men, she heals the sick; she sends inheritances; she satisfies the hunger of love!
"We bear her through the land, rain or shine, in fair weather, or in foul.
"Oft times we lie in the open air, and our table is not always well served. Robbers dwell in the woods. Wild beasts rush from their caverns. Slippery paths border the precipices. Behold her! behold her!"
(_They lift off the covering; and a box is seen, inlaid with little pebbles._)
"Loftier than the cedars, she looks down from the blue ether. Vaster than the wind she encircles the world. Her breath is exhaled by the nostrils of tigers; the rumbling of her voice is heard beneath the volcanoes; her wrath is the tempest; the pallor of her face has whitened the moon. She ripens the harvest; by her the tree-bark swells with sap; she makes the beard to grow. Give her something; for she hates the avaricious!"
(_The box opens; and under a little pavilion of blue silk appears a small image of Cybele--glittering with spangles, crowned with towers, and seated in a chariot of red stone, drawn by two lions, with uplifted paws._
"She loves the sound of resounding tympanums, the echo of dancing feet, the howling of wolves, the sonorous mountains and the deep gorges, the flower of the almond tree, the pomegranate and the green fig, the whirling dance, the snoring flute, the sugary sap, the salty tear,--blood! To thee, to thee!--Mother of the mountains!"
(_They scourge themselves with their whips; and their chests resound with the blows;--the skins of the tambourines vibrate almost to bursting. They seize their knives; they gash their arms._)
"She is sorrowful; let us be sorrowful! Thereby your sins will be remitted. Blood purifies all--fling its red drops abroad like blossoms! She, the Great Mother, demands the blood of another creature--of a pure being!"
(_The Archigallus raises his knife above the head of a lamb._)
(_There is a gush of purple blood. The priest sprinkles the crowd with it; and all--including Anthony and Hilarion--standing around the burning tree, silently watch the last palpitations of the victim._