Ravished with the harmony, Tmolus at once
awarded the victory to the god of the lyre, and all but Midas
acquiesced in the judgment. He dissented, and questioned the
justice of the award. Apollo would not suffer such a depraved pair
of ears any longer to wear the human form, but caused them to
increase in length, grow hairy, within and without, and movable on
their roots; in short, to be on the perfect pattern of those of an
ass.
Mortified enough was King Midas at this mishap; but he consoled
himself with the thought that it was possible to hide his
misfortune, which he attempted to do by means of an ample turban
or head-dress. But his hair-dresser of course knew the secret. He
was charged not to mention it, and threatened with dire punishment
if he presumed to disobey. But he found it too much for his
discretion to keep such a secret; so he went out into the meadow,
dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered the story,
and covered it up. Before long a thick bed of reeds sprang up in
the meadow, and as soon as it had gained its growth, began
whispering the story, and has continued to do so, from that day to
this, every time a breeze passes over the place.
The story of King Midas has been told by others with some
variations. Dryden, in the "Wife of Bath's Tale," makes Midas's
queen the betrayer of the secret:
"This Midas knew, and durst communicate
To none but to his wife his ears of state.
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