Chairephon What is the cry, Sokrates, that comes to us from the distant breakers on the headland yonder? How sweet it sounds! What creature has such a note as that? Surely the water-fowl are voiceless.

Sokrates Nay, it is a sea-bird, Chairephon, called the halcyon, full of plaints and tears, and a legend about her has long been current among men. They say that she was once a woman, the daughter of Aiolos, son of Hellen, and married to Ceyx the Trachinian, who was the son of the Morning-star, fair son of a fair father. And when her young husband died she mourned for him, longing for his love. Then by some god's will (they say) she took on the feathery guise of a bird, and flits about the seas seeking him; for she could not find him on the land, though she searched the world over.

Chairephon Is this, then, the halcyon? I had never heard the note before, and it fell upon my ear like something quite new. Certainly the How large a creature sings a mournful song. bird may it be, Sokrates?

Sokrates Small, and yet her wifely love won great honor from the gods; for in the nestingtime of these birds the world observes the "halcyon days," as they are called, which bring an interval of fine weather in midwinter. To-day is a perfect example of them. Do you not see how clear the air is? and the expanse of sea, how waveless and calm! Like a mirror, one might say.

Chairephon Yes; this certainly seems to be a halcyon day, and yesterday was just such another. But tell me, Sokrates, how in the name of the gods can we possibly believe those old stories that tell of birds changing into women or women into birds? All those things seem to the last degree impossible.

Sokrates My dear Chairephon, I suspect that we are altogether too dull of vision to judge of the possible and the impossible; for we reason according to our human ability, which cannot know or see or be believed. And many things, even easy ones, seem difficult to us, and accessible things seem out of reach, often because our minds are inexperienced, and often, too, because they are childish. For every man, even if he be very old, seems like a child, since certainly our life is a tiny thing, and short as childhood in comparison with all time. And how, my friend, can men, who are ignorant of the powers of the gods and other divine beings, affirm whether any such thing is possible or impossible? You saw, Chairephon, what a storm there was three days ago. It actually terrifies one even to recall those flashes of lightning and peals of thunder and the extraordinary violence of the wind. One would have thought the whole world was on the eve of dissolution.

But presently there was a marvellous change, and the fine weather set in which has lasted ever since. Now, which do you think the greater and more laborious task-to bring such clear weather out of that irresistible whirlwind and chaos, or to remodel a woman's shape and make it into a bird's? Why, even human children who understand modelling will often take a bit of clay or wax, and easily fashion different shapes in succession from the same lump. To the godhead, then, whose great superiority over our powers is beyond comparison, all these things are perhaps easy and without effort. For by how much do you think the whole sky surpasses you in size? Will you tell me that?

Chairephon What mortal, Sokrates, could think or tell such a thing as that? It is not in our power so much as to name it.

Sokrates And do we not see, even in comparing men with one another, great differences in ability? Compare, for instance, a man grown with a young child five or ten days old. It is amazing how they differ in their powers, for almost all the actions of life, both those that are performed by means of our ingenious arts and those of the body and soul; for it seems impossible for them to enter even into the mind of a child as young as that.