3. HYMN TO APOLLO

I will remember and not forget far-shooting Apollo.
Gods tremble as he approaches the home of Zeus:
All rise from their seats as he draws near
when he stretches his gleaming bow.
Only Leto stays beside Zeus who delights in thunder.
She unstrings Apollo’s bow, closes his quiver,
lifts the bow from his mighty shoulders,
hangs it from a golden peg on a pillar near his father,
leads him to his throne and bids him sit.
His father hands him nectar in a golden cup,	10
welcoming his dear son—then the other gods
return to their seats. Queen Leto rejoices
that she bore a strong son, an archer.
Rejoice, blessed Leto, since you bore glorious children—
Lord Apollo and Artemis who rains arrows,
Artemis in Ortygia and Apollo in rocky Delos—
bracing yourself against the great hill Kynthos
near a date palm by the streams of Inopos.
How to praise you, celebrated in so many hymns?
Phoibos, the range of songs for you spreads over	20
all the islands and lands that feed calves.
All high places please you, from the mountain
headlands, to the rivers flowing seaward,
and the rugged banks sloping to the sea and harbor.
Shall I sing of when Leto first leaned on Mount Kynthos
in Delos, the rocky island encircled by sea,
and gave birth to you, a joy for mortals? With whistling
winds, dark waves encroach the dry land on every side.
Starting from Delos, you rule over all mortals.
Crete, which holds so many, then the land of Athens,	30
the isle of Aigina and Euboea famous for ships,
Aigai, Eiresiai, and Peparethos near the sea,
Thracian Mount Athos, the towering peaks of Pelion,
then Samothrace and Ida’s mountain range,
Skyros, Phokaia, the sheer summit of Autokane,
well-managed Imbros, inhospitable Lemnos,
holy Lesbos, home to Makar, son of Aiolos,
and Chios, most fruitful of islands that lie in the sea,
rugged Mimas, the high crown of Korykos,
dazzling Klaros, steep Mount Aisagee,	40
watery Samos, lofty peak of Mykale,
Miletos, and Kos, the city of Meropians,
high Knidos and windy Karpathos,
Naxos, Paros, and rocky Rheneia—
Leto searched, while in labor with the skillful Archer,
all these lands to find one willing to house her son.
But each place quaked with fear and not one dared
to accept Phoibos, for all their fertile soil,
not until Queen Leto set foot on Delos.
Leto’s words flew out swiftly:	50
“Delos, if only you wanted to be my son’s home
and to establish Phoibos Apollo’s rich temple here!
No one else will touch you—as you notice—
you will not be rich, I think, in cattle or sheep,
and you will not bear fruit nor grow many plants.
If you had the temple of Apollo, who works from afar,
then everyone gathering here would sacrifice hundreds
of bulls—an endless scent of offerings smoking up—
and you, whose land is not rich, would receive
from the hands of strangers food for all your people.”	60
When Leto finished, Delos greeted her:
“Most honorable Leto, daughter of great Koios,
I would gladly welcome the birth of the far-shooting Lord.
It is terribly true that I now seem hateful to men,
while then I would become greatly honored.
Though I tremble to speak, I will not hide it from you:
Leto, they say Apollo will be extremely reckless
and rule mightily over the immortal gods
and mortal men on the wheat-growing earth.
In my mind and spirit I have a terror, a fear	70
that when he first sees the light of the sun,
Apollo might dishonor this island—since I am too rocky—
trampling it, he will thrust me into the briny sea.
Then crashing great waves will pile over my head
and he will go to another land that might please you,
Leto, there to establish his temple and sacred grove.
Octopi will make their bed on me and dark seals
will make their home, undisturbed by people.
But, Goddess, if you dare swear a solemn oath
that Apollo will build his first beautiful temple	80
here, as an oracle for people, then later he can [build]
among all other folk, since surely he will be famous.”
After Delos spoke, Leto swore the gods’ greatest oath:
“Know this, Earth, wide Heaven, by the cascading water
of the Styx (the greatest and most terrible oath
that the blessed gods swear): Apollo will forever
have his fragrant altar and precinct on this island.
He will honor you far above all others.”
When Leto had finished swearing the oath,
Delos welcomed the birth of the far-shooting Lord.	90
For nine days and nine nights, Leto was pierced
by unexpected labor pains. All the goddesses,
the best ones, were with her: Dione, Rhea,
the tracker Themis, roaring Amphitrite,
and all the rest, except for white-armed Hera,
who sat in the great hall of Zeus, the cloud-wrangler.
Only Eileithyia, goddess of childbirth, had not heard:
she sat on Mount Olympos under golden clouds,
through the cunning of white-armed Hera, who
distracted her out of jealousy that fair-haired Leto	100
was about to bear a perfect, powerful son.
So the goddesses sent Iris from the well-built temple
to retrieve Eileithyia, swearing to give her
a necklace nine cubits long, strung with gold thread.
They urged Iris to summon her away from Hera,
before Hera could dissuade Eileithyia from coming.
Swift, wind-footed Iris ran when she heard this,
quickly traversing the whole distance between.
As she reached the seat of the gods, steep Olympos,
Iris quickly called for Eileithyia to come to the door	110
from the great hall, her words flying out
as all the other Olympian goddesses had urged.
Iris did persuade Eileithyia’s own heart,
and so the two goddesses flew like sky doves.
When the labor goddess landed on Delos,
labor seized Leto; she strove to give birth.
She threw her arms around a date palm tree,
knees sinking in the soft meadow, and Earth smiled.
The baby leapt toward the light and all the goddesses
cried aloud. Lord Phoibos, the goddesses bathed you	120
in holy, pure water; they swaddled you in a delicate,
new white cloth, fastened with a golden band.
His mother did not nurse Apollo of the golden blade;
Themis, instead, offered nectar and sweet ambrosia
in her immortal hands. Then Leto rejoiced
that she bore a strong son, an archer.
But when you, Phoibos, devoured the immortal food,
the golden cords could not hold as you struggled,
the ties no longer hindered you, all the ropes fell free.
At once Phoibos Apollo addressed the immortals:	130
“The lyre and the curved bow shall ever be dear to me,
and I will proclaim to humans the unerring will of Zeus.”
With that, unshorn Phoibos, who strikes from afar,
strode on the earth’s broad paths and all the immortal
goddesses were astounded. Then Delos everywhere
grew heavy with gold, beholding Zeus and Leto’s child,
joyous that the god chose her as his home,
that out of all islands and lands, he loved her more.
Like a hilltop with forest flowers, Delos blossomed with gold.
Silverbow Apollo, Lord who strikes from afar,	140
you walked all over rocky Mount Kynthos,
then you roamed the other islands, among all men.
Your temples and sacred groves are many.
All high places, the mountain headlands,
and rivers flowing seaward please you.
Yet your heart, Phoibos, most delights in Delos
where the Ionians, in trailing robes, gather
with their children and respected wives.
They please you when they hold their contests,
remembering you with boxing matches, dance, and song.	150
One would say they are immortal, forever unaging,
if one came upon them, thronged together.
Seeing the grace of them all, one would delight
at the sight of men and well-dressed women,
swift ships and the Ionians’ many possessions.
And the greatest marvel, whose fame will never die:
the Delian girls, servants of the god of a hundred arrows.
They begin a hymn celebrating Apollo in song,
Leto next and Artemis, who rains arrows,
and then, remembering the men and women of old,	160
they sing an epic tale—they enchant the people.
They know how to mimic the sounds of all folk
and the rattling of castanets; each person would hear
his own voice singing, so well do they craft the song.
Now may Apollo, along with Artemis, be gracious,
and all you girls fare well. Remember me ever after,
whenever some man of the earth, a stranger
who has suffered much, comes here and asks:
“Girls, which man’s song is sweetest to you
of those landing here, and who delights you most?”	170
Then you all answer so well about us:
“The blind man, who lives in rugged Chios,
whose songs all remain the best forever.”
We will carry your fame so far over the earth
as we travel about the crowded cities of people.
They will be persuaded, since it is the truth.
Yet, I will not stop celebrating the skillful Archer,
Silverbow Apollo, son of fair-haired Leto.
Lord, Lykia and lovely Maionia are yours,
and Miletos, charming city by the sea.	180
And you most powerfully rule the island Delos.
Strumming the hollow lyre, Leto’s glorious son
roams toward rocky Pytho, wearing clothes fragrant
and divine. The lyre has a haunting, sweet sound
under the golden pick when he plays.
Swift as thought, he leaves earth for Zeus’
Olympian house among the assembly of gods;
at once the gods heed the lyre and song.
The Muses respond as one, their rich voices
singing the gods’ undying gifts and the sufferings	190
that the deathless gods inflict on human folk
who live witless and helpless, unable to find
a cure for death or defense against old age.
Then the rich-haired Graces, gracious Horai,
Harmonia, Hebe, and Zeus’ daughter, Aphrodite,
all dance together joining hands at their wrists.
Among them sings a goddess neither ugly nor short,
but statuesque, a stunning beauty to behold:
Artemis, who rains arrows, the sister of Apollo.
Among them, too, play Ares and sharp-eyed Hermes.	200
As Phoibos Apollo plays the lyre, stepping high
and fine, radiance blazes around him,
the dancers’ feet flashing from under fine-spun robes.
Golden-haired Leto and wise Zeus
greatly rejoice in their hearts to watch
their dear son playing among the immortal gods.
How to praise you, celebrated in so many hymns?
Shall I sing about you as wooer and lover:
How you and godlike Iskhus, son of Elatos the horseman,
rivaled in wooing Koronis, daughter of Azan?	210
Or you with rivals Phorbas, son of Triops, or Ereutheus?
Or with Leukippos and Leukippos’ lady, Daphne,
one on foot, the other riding? He did not fall short of Triops.
Shall I sing of how you, Apollo who strikes from afar,
searched the earth for a place of prophecy for mortals?
First you traveled from Olympos to Pieria,
past sandy Lekton and the Ainianes,
past the land of the Perraiboi. You came swiftly
to Iolkos, and Kenaion in Euboea, famous for ships.
As you stood on the Lelanton plain, the place	220
did not please you for your temple and grove.
Crossing the Euripos, Apollo who strikes from afar,
you climbed the divine, green mountain. Quickly,
you left there for Mykalessos and grassy Teumessos.
Then you came to Thebes, a place covered in forest—
for no mortals yet made their home in holy Thebes,
there were no paths or roads yet in the wheat plain,
and Thebes was still held by woods.
Going further, Apollo who strikes from afar,
you reached Onchestos, Poseidon’s luminous grove.	230
There, in a ritual to Poseidon, a newly tamed colt
breathes heavily, distressed from pulling a fine chariot,
then his good driver leaps from the car to the path.
Free of control, the horses rattle their empty vessels.
If the chariots are shattered in the grove,
people tend the horses, but leave the chariots lying.
Thus the ritual was born: they pray to Poseidon,
and Moira will guard the god’s chariot.
You reached that grove later, Apollo who strikes from afar.
Then you encountered the fine-flowing Kephisos,	240
which rushes out, its waters pouring from Lilaia.
Walking through it and Okaleia of many towers, you,
who work from afar, happened upon grassy Haliartos.
Finally, you reached Telphusa, a pristine place
to establish your temple and grove.
Standing very close, you told her:
“Telphusa, I intend to build a most beautiful temple
right here as a place of prophecy for mortals,
who will always offer me perfect bulls by the hundred.
People living in the rocky Peloponnesus, in Europe,	250
and in islands encircled by sea will make offerings
when seeking an oracle. To all of them, I will prophesy
unerring counsel, declaring oracles in my rich temple.”
After speaking, Phoibos Apollo set the foundations
wide and extremely long. When Telphusa saw that,
her heart filled with anger and she said:
“Lord Apollo who works from afar, I will set out an idea,
since you intend to build a most beautiful temple
right here as a place of prophecy for mortals,
who will always offer you perfect bulls by the hundred.	260
I will spell it out for you—toss it into your mind:
the clatter of prancing horses will always bother you
and the mules being watered from my sacred springs.
Here, someone of humanfolk will want to ogle
finely crafted chariots and the stamping of fast horses
more than your great temple and the many goods inside.
But if you might be persuaded—since you are mightier
and better than I, Lord, with the greatest strength—
build in Krisa under the cleft of Parnassus.
In Krisa, no fancy chariots will rumble,	270
no swift-footed horses will stamp around your fine altars.
Those famous tribes of humans may bring you gifts
as ‘Iepaean’ the Healer, and you will enjoy accepting
the lovely sacred objects from people around there.”
Thus she convinced the Far-shooter, so Telphusa herself
might get the glory on earth, instead of the Far-shooter.
So, going farther, Apollo who strikes from afar,
you came to the city of insolent Phlegyan men,
who disregard Zeus, living on the land
in a wooded valley near the Kephisian lake.	280
You kept going quickly, rushing to the ridge,
until you came to Krisa under snowy Parnassus,
a west-facing crag; a cliff juts out above
and a deep, rugged valley runs below.
Lord Phoibos Apollo determined to build
his lovely temple on that spot, and said:
“I intend to build a most beautiful temple
right here as a place of prophecy for mortals,
who will always offer me perfect bulls by the hundred.
People living in the rocky Peloponnesus, in Europe,	290
and in islands encircled by sea will make offerings
when seeking an oracle. To all of them, I will prophesy
unerring counsel, declaring oracles in my rich temple.”
After speaking, Phoibos Apollo set the foundations
wide and continuous. The sons of Erginos,
Trophonius and Agamedes, dear to the immortal gods,
placed a marble threshold on the foundations.
The countless human race crafted a temple
with polished stones, a temple to be a song forever.
A lovely stream runs near, where the son of Zeus	300
used his mighty bow to kill a she-dragon,
a great, fat, wild monster, who persisted in wreaking
much evil on men—on the men themselves
and often on their rangy sheep—a very bloody bane.
She once accepted Typhon, terrible and cruel,
from gold-enthroned Hera, nursing that man-killer
whom Hera bore in her fury at Father Zeus
because the glorious son of Kronos bore Athena
from his head. At that, Queen Hera was enraged
and spoke among the assembled gods:	310
“Hear me, all you gods and goddesses,
how cloud-wrangling Zeus begins to dishonor me
first, although he made me his trustworthy wife.
Now apart from me, he bore owl-eyed Athena—
whom he sets above all the blessed gods—
but he begot my lame-footed son Hephaistos,
whom I bore, a weakling among all the gods.
I grabbed him, hurled him into the wide sea,
but Thetis, silver-footed daughter of Nereus,
welcomed him and tended him among her own sisters—	320
I wish she would favor the blessed gods some other way.
Cruel, cunning trickster, what else will you plan?
How dare you bear owl-eyed Athena on your own?
Could not I have borne her? I was still called yours
among the immortals who live in wide heaven.
Watch out that I do not devise some evil in return.
I will scheme to bear a child who will rule the immortal gods.
I, at least, will not shame our holy marriage,
but I will not approach your bed. Away, far away
from you, I will still count among the undying gods!”	330
In great fury, she stormed from the gods.
Eyes dark and wide as a cow’s, Queen Hera prayed
and with down-turned palm struck the earth:
“Now hear me Earth and wide Heaven above,
and Titans, gods beneath the earth, dwelling around
great Tartaros, from whom men and gods derive:
all hear me and grant me a child apart from Zeus,
in no way weaker in strength than he, a child greater
than Zeus by as much as Zeus is greater than Kronos.”
And she struck the earth with her massive hand.	340
Then life-bearing Earth shifted; Hera rejoiced
in the sight, believing her prayer would be fulfilled.
From that moment on for a complete year
Hera never came to the bed of cunning Zeus,
nor ever to her finely worked throne as before,
where she used to plan complicated councils with him.
Cow-eyed Queen Hera stayed in her temple
that echoed with prayers, enjoying sacred sheep.
When the months and days were completed,
the year revolved again and the seasons came,	350
Hera bore Typhon, unlike a god or a human,
clever, awful and cruel, a bane for mortal folk.
At once, cow-eyed Queen Hera brought
evil to evil and the she-dragon welcomed him—
Typhon did much harm to the glorious human race.
Whoever met the she-dragon died that day,
until Lord Apollo, who works from afar,
shot her with a piercing arrow—she lay down, shattered
with brutal pain, wheezing heavily, thrashing on the ground.
Her divine cry became unspeakable—writhing	360
without ceasing amid the woods, she left her life
breathing out her blood-red spirit. Phoibos Apollo boasted:
“Now rot here on the man-feeding earth.
You will not be an evil plague for living mortals,
who eat the fruit of the fertile earth,
who here will offer perfect bulls by the hundred.
Neither cruel Typhon nor infamous Chimera
will help you ward off death, but on this spot
the black earth and rays of the sun will rot you.”
As he boasted over her, darkness covered her eyes.	370
There she rotted under the holy strength of Helios—
which is why that place is now called “Pytho” and men
call Apollo the Pythian Lord because right there
the strength of piercing Helios “rotted” the monster.
Then Phoibos Apollo knew in his heart
that the sweet-flowing spring had tricked him—
at once he stormed off, furious with Telphusa.
Looming over her, Apollo said:
“Telphusa, you did not expect to keep this lovely place
pouring your fluid waters after deceiving me.	380
My glory will hold sway here, and not yours alone.”
Then Lord Apollo who works from afar heaved a crag
on top of her, burying her spring with a shower of stones.
He built an altar in the sacred grove
close by the once sweet-flowing stream,
where everyone prayed to Apollo as “Telphusian”
because he despoiled the waters of holy Telphusa.
After that, Phoibos Apollo considered in his heart
which men he might bring in as priests
who would be his servants in rocky Pytho.	390
While pondering this, he noticed a swift ship
on the wine-dark sea. Many good men were aboard:
Cretans from Minoan Knossos, who perform sacrifices
for the Gold-bladed Lord and announce prophecies
from Phoibos Apollo, whenever he delivers an oracle
from the laurel tree in the hollow under Mount Parnassus.
They were sailing, in their dark ship, to sandy Pylos
to do business and trade with the Pylians.
In the form of a dolphin, Phoibos Apollo
joined them at sea, leaping aboard their swift ship	400
and lying there—a huge and terrible monster.
When any of the sailors pondered, trying to understand,
Apollo tossed him all about, shaking the ship’s timbers.
He lay in silence on the ship and they were afraid.
The sailors did not loosen the hollow ship’s rigging,
nor ease the sail of their blue-prowed ship.
The sail remained taut with oxhide ropes,
holding the ship to its course. A strong south wind rushed
the swift ship along. First, they passed Cape Malea.
Then, along the Laconian coast, they reached	410
the land of the joy-giving sun, Cape Tainaron
ringed by sea, where the woolly sheep of Lord Helios
always graze, dwelling in their delightful land.
They wished to put the ship ashore there, disembark
to understand the great marvel and see if the monster
would remain on the deck of the hollow ship
or if he would dart away into a salty swell, rich with fish.
But the well-built ship did not obey its steering oars.
With the fertile Peloponnesus to the right, it pushed on—
with his breath, Lord Apollo who works from afar	420
easily guided the ship, which kept sailing along its route
passing Arena, beautiful Argyphea and Thryon,
the path of Alpheos, and well-placed Aepy,
and sandy Pylos with all its people,
passing Cruni, Chalcis, Dyme,
and shining Elis where the Epeoi rule.
As the ship headed for Phera, running with Zeus’ wind,
Ithaca’s steep mountain appeared from the clouds,
then Dulichium, Same, and woody Zacynthus.
But when it had passed the entire western Peloponnesus	430
and the long gulf toward Krisa appeared,
cutting off, lengthwise, the fertile peninsula,
then Zeus ordered a clear, strong west wind
blasting from the sky, setting the ship
to sail full speed over the sea’s briny water.
Once again they sailed toward dawn and the sun,
led by Lord Apollo, the son of Zeus.
They reached vine-laden Krisa, seen from afar,
to the beach, where the seafaring ship brushed the sand.
Lord Apollo who works from afar leapt from the vessel,	440
resembling a star (in midday!)—a shower of sparks
burst from him and the fire stretched to heaven.
Descending to the inner shrine, among precious tripods,
he kindled a blaze, his arrows carrying the flame.
He crowned all Krisa with fire. The Krisan wives
and daughters cried out under Apollo’s blast,
for he cast great fear into each of them.
He flew back to the ship, swift as thought,
resembling a strong, vigorous man in his prime,
with his hair flowing over his wide shoulders.	450
His words winged their way to the Cretans:
“Strangers, who are you? From what land do you sail?
Do you have some business, or are you idly
wandering like pirates on the sea, who roam
risking their lives, bringing trouble to foreign lands?
Why do you sit grieving, not going ashore
or stowing the gear of your dark ship?
That is the custom among enterprising men
on a dark ship when they come from the sea
to dry land. Weary with labor, the desire	460
for sweet food immediately seizes their minds.”
His words set courage in their breasts.
The leader of the Cretans faced him:
“Stranger—though you are nothing like mortals
in body and stature, but like the deathless gods—
be healthy and rejoice; may the gods grant you wealth.
But now tell me truly so that I may know:
What country and land is this? What men live here?
With a different plan, we were sailing the great sea
to Pylos from Crete, which we declare our birthplace.	470
Instead, we went here on our ship, in no way willing
for this journey on other paths; we long for home.
Some immortal led us here against our will.”
Apollo, who works from afar, answered:
“Strangers, who once lived by wooded Knossos,
now, no longer will you return home,
each to his beloved city, lovely homes
and dear wives. Here, you will care for
my rich temple honored by many people.
I am the son of Zeus; I declare I am Apollo.	480
I led you here over the great depth of the sea,
intending no evil. You will maintain
my rich temple so much honored by all people,
and you will know the plans of the gods.
By their will, you will be honored always, all your days.
Now come, quickly obey my command:
Drop the sail, release the oxhide ropes,
and haul your swift ship onto dry land—
take goods and gear out of the well-balanced ship.
Then make an altar at the seashore,	490
kindle a fire on it and offer up white barley.
Then stand close around the altar and pray—
because I first leapt onto your swift ship as a dolphin
out of the misty sea, pray to me as Delphinios,
the Dolphin, and the altar will be Delphinian
and will always be seen clearly from afar.
Next, eat beside your swift, dark ship
and pour libations to the blessed Olympian gods.
When you have satisfied the desire for sweet food,
come with me at once, and sing a paean until you reach	500
the place where you will keep my rich temple.”
So he spoke. They listened carefully and obeyed.
They dropped the sail right away, released the ropes,
lowered the mast to the mast-rest by the stays,
and landed on the shore of the bay.
They hauled the ship from the water to dry land,
high on the sand, and jammed in the long props.
Then they made an altar on the seashore;
kindling a fire and offering up white barley,
they prayed, as he bid, standing around the altar.	510
Afterward, they ate dinner by the swift black ship
and poured libations to the blessed Olympian gods.
When they quenched their desire for food and drink,
they went with the son of Zeus, Lord Apollo
who, stepping high and fine, sweetly played the lyre.
The Cretans followed him to Pytho, keeping the beat
and singing a paean to the healer god
like the paean singers in Crete, and those whom
the divine Muse fills with honey-voiced song.
They danced, unwearied, up to the ridge, soon reaching	520
Parnassus and the beautiful place where Apollo
intended the Cretans to live honored by many people.
He showed them his holy inner shrine and rich temple.
Now, their courage arose within their breasts
and the Cretan leader faced Apollo:
“O Lord, since you brought us far away
from our dear ones and fatherland—as it pleased you—
now, how will we live? We urge you to consider.
This land is not good for vineyards or pastures;
how can we live well and serve other people?”	530
Apollo, son of Zeus, smiled at them:
“Foolish human beings, always suffering,
who wish for grief, hard work and trouble in mind:
I will put a comforting word in your heart.
Each of you could hold a knife in your right hand
to kill sheep nonstop—they will be that plentiful,
so many will the glorious human race bring me.
Guard my temple, welcome the people
gathering here, under my direction above all
[missing line]
But should there be any rash word or deed,	540
the arrogant violence customary among mortals,
then other men will become your masters,
forever subduing you under their force.
All has been told to you; guard it in your heart.”
Son of Zeus and Leto, now farewell—
but I will remember you and the rest of the song.