Apollo and the Laurel Tree

A Legend

Apollo was a young and handsome Greek god. He lived with his father, Zeus, and the other Gods on Mount Olympus, almost 10,000 feet high above the clouds. Apollo was one of the best loved of all the gods. As the god of music and poetry, prophecy and medicine, he came to Earth often to play the lyre and sing and to show people how to heal the sick. Apollo was also an expert archer — and he was proud of it. His aim was perfect. He killed many monsters with his arrows. Once he slayed an enormous python that slithered up Mount Olympus and horrified the gods. They all praised Apollo for his marksmanship.

One day, Apollo saw Eros, the young god of love, shooting arrows. “Why are you using big, heavy arrows like mine?” Apollo asked. “They are only for experienced archers like me,” he said, and walked away.

Eros was insulted, and his mother, Aphrodite, who heard Apollo’s boasting, became angry. “Apollo has no right to poke fun at you simply because you are smaller and younger,” she said.

Eros thought and thought. “I am a better archer than Apollo thinks I am,” he said, “and I have magic arrows. I know how I can get even with him.”

Eros immediately pulled out an arrow, one with a sharp, gold tip. He placed it in his bow and pointed it at Apollo. If he aimed well, the arrow would hit Apollo and cause him to fall in love with the first maiden he saw. Eros pulled the bow back slowly, took careful aim, and then let it go. Vroom! It flew through the air and struck Apollo in the back.

Eros noticed that Apollo was approaching Daphne, a beautiful nymph and a minor nature goddess. Soon Apollo would see her and fall hopelessly in love. But Eros would keep Apollo from having her. Quickly, he reached into his quiver and pulled out another magic arrow — one with a dull-pointed lead tip. This arrow would cause Daphne to shun anyone who showed affection for her. He shot it straight at her. The instant Daphne felt the arrow pierce her heart, she was repulsed by the idea of marrying anyone. She yearned to be free, to roam through the woods and to live near babbling brooks. Daphne's father, a river god, had long wanted her to marry so he would have grandchildren, but after she was struck by Eros' lead-tipped arrow, that was impossible.

Just as Eros thought, Apollo spied Daphne, and immediately his heart overflowed with love for her. He followed her through the fields. She looked back in disgust, and started to run. Apollo couldn't let her get away. “Don't run,” he cried, and he began to chase her.

Daphne kept running.

“Stop! I love you,” Apollo said. “You must marry me and come with me to Mount Olympus!”

Daphne ran faster and faster. Frightened, she raced across the valley and into the woods, her hair flying behind her. She leaped over bushes and stones in a desperate attempt to get away from Apollo. But he was stronger and could run faster. Closer and closer he came. Daphne gasped for breath, terrified at the sight of Apollo. Just as she reached the river, he started to grab her.

“Help!” she screamed to her father, the river god. “Save me! Hide me! Make me vanish so Apollo cannot take me away!”

Suddenly, Daphne felt her legs become heavy and numb. She could run no more. Even worse, she could barely breathe as her chest became encased in thick bark. Apollo stared helplessly as Daphne's feet became stuck in the ground, forming roots. Her arms turned into branches, her lovely hair into leaves. The delicate nymph Daphne had become a tree, with swaying branches — the most beautiful tree Apollo had ever seen. It was the first of all laurel trees.

Apollo hugged the tree and wept. He would never boast again. Eros had won. Brokenhearted at losing his first love, Apollo knew he could never forget Daphne. “I will wear a laurel wreath on my head to keep Daphne close to me,” he said, “and I will make my arrows of laurel wood.” Apollo vowed that he would keep his love for her alive forever by making the fragrant tree sacred. And he made the laurel tree an evergreen so it would never die.

At Greek games honoring Apollo, winners of competitions were crowned with wreaths of laurel. To pay further tribute to Daphne, Apollo decreed that the laurel would be a tree of inspiration. “Renowned poets will be crowned with laurel wreaths,” he said. Even today, every official poet of a country or state or region is called a “poet laureate” in honor of Apollo's everlasting laurel tree.