drops a curve across the upper part of the
figure, and this curve is repeated a little lower down by the creases
in the drapery across the lap. Such are the few strong, simple lines
which compose the picture, producing an effect of grandeur which a
confusion of many lines would entirely spoil.

XII

THE CUMAEAN SIBYL

Of all the sibyls, the one we hear most about is the Cumaean. The
legend runs that, having asked a boon of Apollo, she gathered a
handful of sand and said, "Grant me to see as many birthdays as there
are sand grains in my hand." The wish was gratified, but unluckily she
forgot to ask for enduring youth, so she was doomed to live a thousand
years in a withered old age. Thus we always think of her as an old
woman, as Michelangelo has represented her.

She is called the Cumaean sibyl because she is supposed to have lived
in Cumae, which was the oldest and one of the most important of the
Greek colonies in Italy. Her real name, we are told, was Demos. She
lived in a great cavern, where the people came to consult her, and her
answers to their questions were regarded as oracles, or answers from
the deities. She used to write on the leaves of trees the names and
fates of different persons, arranging them in her cave to be read by
her votaries. Sometimes the wind sweeping through the cavern scattered
the leaves broadcast through the world.

The manner of consulting her is fully described by the Latin poet
Virgil in the sixth book of the AEneid. He tells how AEneas, arriving
with his fellow voyagers at the town of Cumae, immediately goes to the
temple of Apollo,

"And seeks the cave of wondrous size,
The sibyl's dread retreat,
The sibyl, whom the Delian seer
Inspires to see the future clear,
And fills with frenzy's heat;
The grove they enter, and behold
Above their heads the roof of gold.

* * * * *

"Within the mountain's hollow side,
A cavern stretches high and wide;
A hundred entries thither lead;
A hundred voices thence proceed,
Each uttering forth the sibyl's rede.
The sacred threshold now they trod:
'Pray for an answer! pray! the god,'
She cries, 'the god is nigh!'

"And as before the door in view
She stands, her visage pales its hue,
Her locks dishevelled fly,
Her breath comes thick, her wild heart glows.
Dilating as the madness grows,
Her form looks larger to the ey