On every head
was a fresh fillet. Every hand bore some beautiful gift for the gods--a
vase, a plate of gold, an embroidered robe, a basket of silver. All were
pouring to the open gate in the sacred wall. Here a procession formed.
Young men led cattle with gilded horns and swinging garlands, or sheep
with clean, combed wool. Stately priests in long chitons paced to the
music of flutes. The judges glowed in their purple robes. Then walked
the athletes, their eyes burning with excitement. And last came all the
visitors with gift-laden hands. The slaves and foreigners crowded at
the gate to see the procession pass, for on this first holy day only
freedmen and Greeks of pure blood might visit the sacred shrines. When
Charmides passed through, his heart leaped. Here was no empty field with
a few altars. He had never seen a greater crowd in the busy market place
at home in Athens. But here the people were even more beautiful than
the Athenians. Their limbs were round and perfect. They stood always
gracefully. Their garments hung in delicate folds, for they were people
made by great artists--people of marble and of bronze. All the gods of
Olympos were there, and athletes of years gone by, wrestling, running,
hurling the disc. There were bronze chariots with horses of bronze to
draw them and men of bronze to hold the reins.
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