used literally.

We speak of "the siren voice of pleasure," "the blow of fate," "the
smile of fortune," and do not remember, often do not know, that we are
recalling that remote past when people believed that there were Sirens
on the coast of Crete whose voices were so sweet that sailors could not
resist them and were drawn on to the rocks and drowned; that fate was a
terrible, relentless, passionless person with supreme power over gods
and men; that fortune was a being who smiled or frowned as men smile or
frown, but whose smile meant prosperity and her frown disaster.

There are few poems which have interested children more than Robert
Browning's "Pied Piper of Hamelin." The story runs that long ago, in the
year 1284, the old German town of Hamelin was so overrun with rats that
there was no peace for the people living in it. When things were at
their worst a strange man appeared in the place and offered, for a sum
of money, to clear it of these pests. The bargain was made and the
stranger began to pipe; and straightway, from every nook and corner in
the old town, the rats came in swarms, followed him to the river Weser
and jumped in and were drowned.

When the people found that the city was really free from rats they were
ungrateful enough to say that the piper had used magic, which was
believed to be the practice of the evil spirit, and refused to carry out
their part of the contract. The stranger went off in a great rage and
threatened to come back again and take payment in his own way. On St.
John's Day, which was a time of great festivity, he suddenly reappeared,
blew a new and beguiling air on his pipe, and immediately every child in
the city felt as if a hand had seized him and ran pell-mell after the
musician as he climbed the mountain, in which a door suddenly opened,