Zeus, seeing this state of things, burned with anger. He summoned the gods to council. They obeyed the call,
and took the road to the palace of heaven. The road, which any one may see in a clear night, stretches across the
face of the sky, and is called the Milky Way. Along the road stand the palaces of the illustrious gods; the common
people of the skies live apart, on either side. Zeus addressed the assembly. He set forth the frightful condition of
things on the earth, and closed by announcing his intention to destroy the whole of its inhabitants, and provide a
new race, unlike the first, who would be more worthy of life, and much better worshippers of the gods. So saying
he took a thunderbolt, and was about to launch it at the world, and destroy it by burning; but recollecting the
danger that such a conflagration might set heaven itself on fire, he changed his plan, and resolved to drown it. The
north wind, which scatters the clouds, was chained up; the south was sent out, and soon covered all the face of
heaven with a cloak of pitchy darkness. The clouds, driven together, resound with a crash; torrents of rain fall; the
crops are laid low; the year's labour of the husbandman perishes in an hour. Zeus, not satisfied with his own
waters, calls on his brother Poseidon to aid him with his. He lets loose the rivers, and pours them over
the land. At the same time, he heaves the land with an earthquake, and brings in the reflux of the ocean over the
shores. Flocks, herds, men, and houses are swept away, and temples, with their sacred enclosures, profaned. If
any edifice remained standing, it was overwhelmed, and its turrets lay hid beneath the waves. Now all was sea,
sea without shore. Here and there an individual remained on a projecting hilltop, and a few, in boats, pulled the
oar where they had lately driven the plough. The fishes swim among the tree-tops; the anchor is let down into a
garden. Where the graceful lambs played but now. unwieldy sea calves gambol. The wolf swims among the sheep,
the yellow lions and tigers struggle in the water. The strength of the wild boar serves him not, nor his swiftness the
stag. The birds fall with weary win, into the water, having found no land for a resting-place. Those living beings whom the water spared fell prey to hunger.
Parnassus alone, of all the mountains, overtopped the waves; and there Deucalion, and his wife Pyrrha, of the race
of Prometheus, found refuge- he a just man, and she a faithful worshipper of the gods. Zeus, when he saw none
left alive but this pair, and remembered their harmless lives and pious demeanour, ordered the north winds to drive
away the clouds, and disclose the skies to earth, and earth to the skies. Poseidon also directed Triton to blow on
his shell, and sound a retreat to the waters. The waters obeyed, and the sea returned to its shores, and the rivers
to their channels. Then Deucalion thus addressed Pyrrha: "O wife, only surviving woman, joined to me first by the
ties of kindred and marriage, and now by a common danger, would that we possessed the power of our ancestor
Prometheus, and could renew the race as he at first made it! But as we cannot, let us seek yonder temple, and
inquire of the gods what remains for us to do." They entered the temple, deformed as it was with slime, and
approached the altar, where no fire burned. There they fell prostrate on the earth, and prayed the goddess to
inform them how they might retrieve their miserable affairs. The oracle answered, "Depart from the temple with
head veiled and garments unbound, and cast behind you the bones of your mother." They heard the words with
astonishment. Pyrrha first broke silence: "We cannot obey; we dare not profane the remains of our parents." They
sought the thickest shades of the wood, and revolved the oracle in their
minds. At length Deucalion spoke: "Either my sagacity deceives me, or the
command is one we may obey without impiety. The earth is the great parent
of all; the stones are her bones; these we may cast behind us; and I think this
is what the oracle means. At least, it will do no harm to try." They veiled their
faces, unbound their garments, and picked up stones, and cast them behind
them. The stones began to grow soft, and assume
shape. By degrees, they put on a rude resemblance to the human form, like a
block half finished in the hands of the sculptor. The moisture and slime that
were about them became flesh; the stony part became bones; the veins
remained veins, retaining their name, only changing their use. Those thrown
by the hand of the man became men, and those by the woman became
women. It was a hard race, and well adapted to labour, as we find ourselves
to be at this day, giving plain indications of our origin.
