TRANSLATIONS

HYMN TO MERCURY

TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER

I

               SING, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove,

                 The Herald-child, king of Arcadia

               And all its pastoral hills, whom in sweet love

                 Having been interwoven, modest May

5

5             Bore Heaven’s dread Supreme. An antique grove

                 Shadowed the cavern where the lovers lay

               In the deep night, unseen by Gods or Men,

               And white-armed Juno slumbered sweetly then.

II

               Now, when the joy of Jove had its fulfilling,

10

10             And Heaven’s tenth moon chronicled her relief,

               She gave to light a babe all babes excelling,

                 A schemer subtle beyond all belief;

               A shepherd of thin dreams, a cow-stealing,

                 A night-watching, and door-waylaying thief,

15

15           Who ’mongst the Gods was soon about to thieve,

               And other glorious actions to achieve.

III

               The babe was born at the first peep of day;

                 He began playing on the lyre at noon,

               And the same evening did he steal away

20

20             Apollo’s herds;—the fourth day of the moon

               On which him bore the venerable May,

                 From her immortal limbs he leaped full soon,

               Nor long could in the sacred cradle keep,

               But out to seek Apollo’s herds would creep.

IV

25

25           Out of the lofty cavern wandering

                 He found a tortoise, and cried out—‘A treasure!’

               (For Mercury first made the tortoise sing)

                 The beast before the portal at his leisure

               The flowery herbage was depasturing,

30

30             Moving his feet in a deliberate measure

               Over the turf. Jove’s profitable son

               Eying him laughed, and laughing thus begun:—

V

               ‘A useful godsend are you to me now,

                 King of the dance, companion of the feast,

35

35           Lovely in all your nature! Welcome, you

                 Excellent plaything! Where, sweet mountain-beast,

               Got you that speckled shell? Thus much I know,

                 You must come home with me and be my guest;

               You will give joy to me, and I will do

40

40           All that is in my power to honour you.

VI

               ‘Better to be at home than out of door,

                 So come with me; and though it has been said

               That you alive defend from magic power,

                 I know you will sing sweetly when you’re dead.’

45

45           Thus having spoken, the quaint infant bore,

                 Lifting it from the grass on which it fed

               And grasping it in his delighted hold,

               His treasured prize into the cavern old.

VII

               Then scooping with a chisel of gray steel,

50

50             He bored the life and soul out of the beast.—

               Not swifter a swift thought of woe or weal

                 Darts through the tumult of a human breast

               Which thronging cares annoy—not swifter wheel

                 The flashes of its torture and unrest

55

55           Out of the dizzy eyes—than Maia’s son

               All that he did devise hath featly done.

VIII

                       ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·

                 And through the tortoise’s hard stony skin

               At proper distances small holes he made,

                 And fastened the cut stems of reeds within,

60

60           And with a piece of leather overlaid

                 The open space and fixed the cubits in,

               Fitting the bridge to both, and stretched o’er all

               Symphonious cords of sheep-gut rhythmical.

IX

               When he had wrought the lovely instrument,

65

65             He tried the chords, and made division meet,

               Preluding with the plectrum, and there went

                 Up from beneath his hand a tumult sweet

               Of mighty sounds, and from his lips he sent

                 A strain of unpremeditated wit

70

70           Joyous and wild and wanton—such you may

               Hear among revellers on a holiday.

X

               He sung how Jove and May of the bright sandal

                 Dallied in love not quite legitimate;

               And his own birth, still scoffing at the scandal,

75

75             And naming his own name, did celebrate;

               His mother’s cave and servant maids he planned all

                 In plastic verse, her household stuff and state.

               Perennial pot, trippet, and brazen pan,—

               But singing, he conceived another plan.

XI

                 ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·

60

60             Seized with a sudden fancy for fresh meat,

               He in his sacred crib deposited

                 The hollow lyre, and from the cavern sweet

               Rushed with great leaps up to the mountain’s head,

                 Revolving in his mind some subtle feat

85

85           Of thievish craft, such as a swindler might

               Devise in the lone season of dun night.

XII

               Lo! the great Sun under the ocean’s bed has

                 Driven steeds and chariot—the child meanwhile strode

               O’er the Pierian mountains clothed in shadows,

90

90             Where the immortal oxen of the God

               Are pastured in the flowering unmown meadows,

                 And safely stalled in a remote abode.—

               The archer Argicide, elate and proud,

               Drove fifty from the herd, lowing aloud.

XIII

95

95           He drove them wandering o’er the sandy way,

                 But, being ever mindful of his craft,

               Backward and forward drove he them astray,

                 So that the tracks which seemed before, were aft;

               His sandals then he threw to the ocean spray,

100

100           And for each foot he wrought a kind of raft

               Of tamarisk, and tamarisk-like sprigs,

               And bound them in a lump with withy twigs.

XIV

                 And on his feet he tied these sandals light,

               The trail of whose wide leaves might not betray

105

105           His track; and then, a self-sufficing wight,

               Like a man hastening on some distant way,

                 He from Pieria’s mountain bent his flight;

               But an old man perceived the infant pass

               Down green Onchestus heaped like beds with grass.

XV

110

110         The old man stood dressing his sunny vine:

                 ‘Halloo! old fellow with the crooked shoulder!

               You grub those stumps? before they will bear wine

                 Methinks even you must grow a little older:

               Attend, I pray, to this advice of mine,

115

115           As you would ’scape what might appal a bolder—

               Seeing, see not—and hearing, hear not—and—

               If you have understanding—understand.’

XVI

               So saying, Hermes roused the oxen vast;

                 O’er shadowy mountain and resounding dell,

120

120         And flower-paven plains, great Hermes passed;

                 Till the black night divine, which favouring fell

               Around his steps, grew gray, and morning fast

                 Wakened the world to work, and from her cell

               Sea-strewn, the Pallantean Moon sublime

125

125         Into her watch-tower just began to climb.

XVII

               Now to Alpheus he had driven all

                 The broad-foreheaded oxen of the Sun;

               They came unwearied to the lofty stall

                 And to the water-troughs which ever run

130

130         Through the fresh fields—and when with rushgrass tall.

                 Lotus and all sweet herbage, every one

               Had pastured been, the great God made them move

               Towards the stall in a collected drove.

XVIII

               A mighty pile of wood the God then heaped,

135

135           And having soon conceived the mystery

               Of fire, from two smooth laurel branches stripped

                 The bark, and rubbed them in his palms;—on high

               Suddenly forth the burning vapour leaped

                 And the divine child saw delightedly.—

140

140         Mercury first found out for human weal

               Tinder-box, matches, fire-irons, flint and steel.

XIX

               And fine dry logs and roots innumerous

                 He gathered in a delve upon the ground—

               And kindled them—and instantaneous

145

145           The strength of the fierce flame was breathed around:

               And whilst the might of glorious Vulcan thus

                 Wrapped the great pile with glare and roaring sound,

               Hermes dragged forth two heifers, lowing loud,

               Close to the fire—such might was in the God.

XX

150

150         And on the earth upon their backs he threw

                 The panting beasts, and rolled them o’er and o’er,

               And bored their lives out. Without more ado

                 He cut fat and flesh, and down before

               The fire, on spits of wood he placed the two,

155

155           Toasting their flesh and ribs, and all the gore

               Pursed in the bowels; and while this was done

               He stretched their hides over a craggy stone.

XXI

               We mortals let an ox grow old, and then

                 Cut it up after long consideration,—

160

160         But joyous-minded Hermes from the glen

                 Drew the fat spoils to the more open station

               Of a flat smooth space, and portioned them; and when

                 He had by lot assigned to each a ration

               Of the twelve Gods, his mind became aware

165

165         Of all the joys which in religion are.

XXII

               For the sweet savour of the roasted meat

                 Tempted him though immortal. Natheless

               He checked his haughty will and did not eat,

                 Though what it cost him words can scarce express,

170

170         And every wish to put such morsels sweet

                 Down his most sacred throat, he did repress;

               But soon within the lofty portalled stall

               He placed the fat and flesh and bones and all.

XXIII

               And every trace of the fresh butchery

175

175           And cooking, the God soon made disappear,

               As if it all had vanished through the sky;

                 He burned the hoofs and horns and head and hair,—

               The insatiate fire devoured them hungrily;—

                 And when he saw that everything was clear,

180

180         He quenched the coal, and trampled the black dust,

               And in the stream his bloody sandals tossed.

XXIV

               All night he worked in the serene moonshine—

                 But when the light of day was spread abroad

               He sought his natal mountain-peaks divine.

185

185           On his long wandering neither Man nor God

               Had met him, since he killed Apollo’s kine,

                 Nor house-dog had barked at him on his road;

               Now he obliquely through the keyhole passed,

               Like a thin mist, or an autumnal blast.

XXV

190

190         Right through the temple of the spacious cave

                 He went with soft light feet—as if his tread

               Fell not on earth; no sound their falling gave;

                 Then to his cradle he crept quick, and spread

               The swaddling-clothes about him; and the knave

195

195           Lay playing with the covering of the bed

               With his left hand about his knees—the right

               Held his belovèd tortoise-lyre tight.

XXVI

               There he lay innocent as a new-born child,

                 As gossips say; but though he was a God,

200

200         The Goddess, his fair mother, unbeguiled,

                 Knew all that he had done being abroad:

               ‘Whence come you, and from what adventure wild,

                 You cunning rogue, and where have you abode

               All the long night, clothed in your impudence?

205

205         What have you done since you departed hence?

XXVII

               ‘Apollo soon will pass within this gate

                 And bind your tender body in a chain

               Inextricably tight, and fast as fate,

                 Unless you can delude the God again,

210

210         Even when within his arms—ah, runagate!

                 A pretty torment both for Gods and Men

               Your father made when he made you!’—‘Dear mother,’

               Replied sly Hermes, ‘wherefore scold and bother?

XXVIII

               ‘As if I were like other babes as old,

215

215           And understood nothing of what is what;

               And cared at all to hear my mother scold.

                 I in my subtle brain a scheme have got,

               Which whilst the sacred stars round Heaven are rolled

                 Will profit you and me—nor shall our lot

220

220         Be as you counsel, without gifts or food,

               To spend our lives in this obscure abode.

XXIX

               ‘But we will leave this shadow-peopled cave

                 And live among the Gods, and pass each day

               In high communion, sharing what they have

225

225              Of profuse wealth and unexhausted prey;

               And from the portion which my father gave

                    To Phoebus, I will snatch my share away,

               Which if my father will not—natheless I,

               Who am the king of robbers, can but try.

XXX

230

230         ‘And, if Latona’s son should find me out,

                    I’ll countermine him by a deeper plan;

               I’ll pierce the Pythian temple-walls, though stout,

                    And sack the fane of everything I can—

               Caldrons and tripods of great worth no doubt,

235

235              Each golden cup and polished brazen pan,

               All the wrought tapestries and garments gay.’—

               So they together talked;—meanwhile the Day

XXXI

               Aethereal born arose out of the flood

                    Of flowing Ocean, bearing light to men.

240

240         Apollo passed toward the sacred wood,

                    Which from the inmost depths of its green glen

               Echoes the voice of Neptune,—and there stood

                    On the same spot in green Onchestus then

               That same old animal, the vine-dresser,

245

245         Who was employed hedging his vineyard there.

XXXII

               Latona’s glorious Son began:—‘I pray

                    Tell, ancient hedger of Onchestus green,

               Whether a drove of kine has passed this way,

                    All heifers with crooked horns? for they have been

250

250         Stolen from the herd in high Pieria,

                    Where a black bull was fed apart, between

               Two woody mountains in a neighbouring glen,

               And four fierce dogs watched there, unanimous as men.

XXXIII

               ‘And what is strange, the author of this theft

255

255              Has stolen the fatted heifers every one,

               But the four dogs and the black bull are left:—

                 Stolen they were last night at set of sun,

               Of their soft beds and their sweet food bereft.—

                 Now tell me, man born ere the world begun,

260

260         Have you seen any one pass with the cows?’—

               To whom the man of overhanging brows:

XXXIV

               ‘My friend, it would require no common skill

                 Justly to speak of everything I see:

               On various purposes of good or ill

265

265           Many pass by my vineyard,—and to me

               ’Tis difficult to know the invisible

                 Thoughts, which in all those many minds may be:—

               Thus much alone I certainly can say,

               I tilled these vines till the decline of day,

XXXV

270

270         ‘And then I thought I saw, but dare not speak

                 With certainty of such a wondrous thing,

               A child, who could not have been born a week,

                 Those fair-horned cattle closely following,

               And in his hand he held a polished stick:

275

275           And, as on purpose, he walked wavering

               From one side to the other of the road,

               And with his face opposed the steps he trod.’

XXXVI

               Apollo hearing this, passed quickly on—

                 No wingèd omen could have shown more clear

280

280         That the deceiver was his father’s son.

                 So the God wraps a purple atmosphere

               Around his shoulders, and like fire is gone

                 To famous Pylos, seeking his kine there,

               And found their track and his, yet hardly cold,

285

285         And cried—‘What wonder do mine eyes behold!

XXXVII

               ‘Here are the footsteps of the hornèd herd

                 Turned back towards their fields of asphodel;—

               But these are not the tracks of beast or bird,

                 Gray wolf, or bear, or lion of the dell,

290

290         Or manèd Centaur—sand was never stirred

                 By man or woman thus! Inexplicable!

               Who with unwearied feet could e’er impress

               The sand with such enormous vestiges?

XXXVIII

               ‘That was most strange—but this is stranger still!’

295

295           Thus having said, Phoebus impetuously

               Sought high Cyllene’s forest-cinctured hill,

                 And the deep cavern where dark shadows lie,

               And where the ambrosial nymph with happy will

                 Bore the Saturnian’s love-child, Mercury—

300

300         And a delightful odour from the dew

               Of the hill pastures, at his coming, flew.

XXXIX

               And Phoebus stooped under the craggy roof

                 Arched over the dark cavern:—Maia’s child

               Perceived that he came angry, far aloof,

305

305           About the cows of which he had been beguiled;

               And over him the fine and fragrant woof

                 Of his ambrosial swaddling-clothes he piled—

               As among fire-brands lies a burning spark

               Covered, beneath the ashes cold and dark.

XL

310

310         There, like an infant who had sucked his fill

                 And now was newly washed and put to bed,

               Awake, but courting sleep with weary will,

                 And gathered in a lump, hands, feet, and head,

               He lay, and his belovèd tortoise still

315

315           He grasped and held under his shoulder-blade.

               Phoebus the lovely mountain-goddess knew,

               Not less her subtle, swindling baby, who

XLI

               Lay swathed in his sly wiles. Round every crook

                 Of the ample cavern, for his kine, Apollo

320

320         Looked sharp; and when he saw them not, he took

                 The glittering key, and opened three great hollow

               Recesses in the rock—where many a nook

                 Was filled with the sweet food immortals swallow,

               And mighty heaps of silver and of gold

325

325         Were piled within—a wonder to behold!

XLII

               And white and silver robes, all overwrought

                 With cunning workmanship of tracery sweet—

               Except among the Gods there can be nought

                 In the wide world to be compared with it,

330

330         Latona’s offspring, after having sought

                 His herds in every corner, thus did greet

               Great Hermes:—‘Little cradled rogue, declare

               Of my illustrious heifers, where they are!

XLIII

               ‘Speak quickly! or a quarrel between us

335

335           Must rise, and the event will be, that I

               Shall hurl you into dismal Tartarus,

                 In fiery gloom to dwell eternally;

               Nor shall your father nor your mother loose

                 The bars of that black dungeon—utterly

340

340         You shall be cast out from the light of day,

               To rule the ghosts of men, unblessed as they.’

XLIV

               To whom thus Hermes slily answered:—‘Son

                 Of great Latona, what a speech is this!

               Why come you here to ask me what is done

345

345           With the wild oxen which it seems you miss?

               I have not seen them, nor from any one

                 Have heard a word of the whole business;

               If you should promise an immense reward,

               I could not tell more than you now have heard.

XLV

350

350         ‘An ox-stealer should be both tall and strong,

                 And I am but a little new-born thing,

               Who, yet at least, can think of nothing wrong:—

                 My business is to suck, and sleep, and fling

               The cradle-clothes about me all day long,—

355

355           Or half asleep, hear my sweet mother sing,

               And to be washed in water clean and warm,

               And hushed and kissed and kept secure from harm.

XLVI

               ‘O, let not e’er this quarrel be averred!

                 The astounded Gods would laugh at you, if e’er

360

360         You should allege a story so absurd

                 As that a new-born infant forth could fare

               Out of his home after a savage herd.

                 I was born yesterday—my small feet are

               Too tender for the roads so hard and rough:—

365

365         And if you think that this is not enough,

XLVII

               ‘I swear a great oath, by my father’s head,

                 That I stole not your cows, and that I know

               Of no one else, who might, or could, or did.—

                 Whatever things cows are, I do not know,

370

370         For I have only heard the name.’—This said,

                 He winked as fast as could be, and his brow

               Was wrinkled, and a whistle loud gave he,

               Like one who hears some strange absurdity.

XLVIII

               Apollo gently smiled and said:—‘Ay, ay,—

375

375           You cunning little rascal, you will bore

               Many a rich man’s house, and your array

                 Of thieves will lay their siege before his door,

               Silent as night, in night; and many a day

                 In the wild glens rough shepherds will deplore

380

380         That you or yours, having an appetite,

               Met with their cattle, comrade of the night!

XLIX

               ‘And this among the Gods shall be your gift,

                 To be considered as the lord of those

               Who swindle, house-break, sheep-steal, and shop-lift;—

385

385           But now if you would not your last sleep doze;

               Crawl out!’—Thus saying, Phoebus did uplift

                 The subtle infant in his swaddling clothes,

               And in his arms, according to his wont,

               A scheme devised, the illustrious Argiphont.

L

                       ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·

                       ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·

390

390           And sneezed and shuddered—Phoebus on the grass

                 Him threw, and whilst all that he had designed

               He did perform—eager although to pass,

                 Apollo darted from his mighty mind

               Towards the subtle babe the following scoff:—

395

395         ‘Do not imagine this will get you off,

LI

               ‘You little swaddled child of Jove and May!’

                 And seized him:—‘By this omen I shall trace

               My noble herds, and you shall lead the way.’—

                 Cyllenian Hermes from the grassy place,

400

400         Like one in earnest haste to get away,

                 Rose, and with hands lifted towards his face

               Round both his ears up from his shoulders drew

               His swaddling clothes, and—‘What mean you to do

LII

               ‘With me, you unkind God?’—said Mercury:

405

405           ‘Is it about these cows you tease me so?

               I wish the race of cows were perished!—I

                 Stole not your cows—I do not even know

               What things cows are. Alas! I well may sigh

                 That, since I came into this world of woe,

410

410         I should have ever heard the name of one—

               But I appeal to the Saturnian’s throne.’

LIII

               Thus Phoebus and the vagrant Mercury

                 Talked without coming to an explanation,

               With adverse purpose. As for Phoebus, he

415

415           Sought not revenge, but only information,

               And Hermes tried with lies and roguery

                 To cheat Apollo.—But when no evasion

               Served—for the cunning one his match had found—

               He paced on first over the sandy ground.

LIV

                      ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·

420

420           He of the Silver Bow the child of Jove

               Followed behind, till to their heavenly Sire

                 Came both his children, beautiful as Love,

               And from his equal balance did require

                 A judgement in the cause wherein they strove.

425

425         O’er odorous Olympus and its snows

               A murmuring tumult as they came arose,—

LV

               And from the folded depths of the great Hill,

                 While Hermes and Apollo reverent stood

               Before Jove’s throne, the indestructible

430

430           Immortals rushed in mighty multitude;

               And whilst their seats in order due they fill,

                 The lofty Thunderer in a careless mood

               To Phoebus said:—‘Whence drive you this sweet prey,

               This herald-baby, born but yesterday?—

LVI

435

435         ‘A most important subject, trifler, this

                 To lay before the Gods!’—‘Nay, Father, nay,

               When you have understood the business,

                 Say not that I alone am fond of prey.

               I found this little boy in a recess

440

440           Under Cyllene’s mountains far away—

               A manifest and most apparent thief,

               A scandalmonger beyond all belief.

LVII

               ‘I never saw his like either in Heaven

                 Or upon earth for knavery or craft:—

445

445         Out of the field my cattle yester-even,

                 By the low shore on which the loud sea laughed,

               He right down to the river-ford had driven;

                 And mere astonishment would make you daft

               To see the double kind of footsteps strange

450

450         He has impressed wherever he did range.

LVIII

               ‘The cattle’s track on the black dust, full well

                 Is evident, as if they went towards

               The place from which they came—that asphodel

                 Meadow, in which I feed my many herds,—

455

455         His steps were most incomprehensible—

                 I know not how I can describe in words

               Those tracks—he could have gone along the sands

               Neither upon his feet nor on his hands;—

LIX

               ‘He must have had some other stranger mode

460

460           Of moving on: those vestiges immense,

               Far as I traced them on the sandy road,

                 Seemed like the trail of oak-toppings:—but thence

               No mark nor track denoting where they trod

                 The hard ground gave:—but, working at his fence,

465

465         A mortal hedger saw him as he passed

               To Pylos, with the cows, in fiery haste.

LX

               ‘I found that in the dark he quietly

                 Had sacrified some cows, and before light

               Had thrown the ashes all dispersedly

470

470           About the road—then, still as gloomy night,

               Had crept into his cradle, either eye

                 Rubbing, and cogitating some new sleight,

               No eagle could have seen him as he lay

               Hid in his cavern from the peering day.

LXI

475

475         ‘I taxed him with the fact, when he averred

                 Most solemnly that he did neither see

               Nor even had in any manner heard

                 Of my lost cows, whatever things cows be;

               Nor could he tell, though offered a reward,

480

480           Not even who could tell of them to me.’

               So speaking, Phoebus sate; and Hermes then

               Addressed the Supreme Lord of Gods and Men:—

LXII

               ‘Great Father, you know clearly beforehand

                 That all which I shall say to you is sooth;

485

485         I am a most veracious person, and

                 Totally unacquainted with untruth.

               At sunrise Phoebus came, but with no band

                 Of Gods to bear him witness, in great wrath,

               To my abode, seeking his heifers there,

490

490         And saying that I must show him where they are,

LXIII

               ‘Or he would hurl me down the dark abyss.

                 I know that every Apollonian limb

               Is clothed with speed and might and manliness,

                 As a green bank with flowers—but unlike him

495

495         I was born yesterday, and you may guess

                 He well knew this when he indulged the whim

               Of bullying a poor little new-born thing

               That slept, and never thought of cow-driving.

LXIV

               ‘Am I like a strong fellow who steals kine?

500

500           Believe me, dearest Father—such you are—

               This driving of the herds is none of mine;

                 Across my threshold did I wander ne’er,

               So may I thrive! I reverence the divine

                 Sun and the Gods, and I love you, and care

505

505         Even for this hard accuser—who must know

               I am as innocent as they or you.

LXV

               ‘I swear by these most gloriously-wrought portals

                 (It is, you will allow, an oath of might)

               Through which the multitude of the Immortals

510

510           Pass and repass forever, day and night,

               Devising schemes for the affairs of mortals—

                 That I am guiltless; and I will requite,

               Although mine enemy be great and strong,

               His cruel threat—do thou defend the young!’

LXVI

515

515         So speaking, the Cyllenian Argiphont

                 Winked, as if now his adversary was fitted:—

               And Jupiter, according to his wont,

                 Laughed heartily to hear the subtle-witted

               Infant give such a plausible account,

520

520           And every word a lie. But he remitted

               Judgement at present—and his exhortation

               Was, to compose the affair by arbitration.

LXVII

               And they by mighty Jupiter were bidden

                 To go forth with a single purpose both,

525

525         Neither the other chiding nor yet chidden:

                 And Mercury with innocence and truth

               To lead the way, and show where he had hidden

                 The mighty heifers.—Hermes, nothing loth,

               Obeyed the Aegis-bearer’s will—for he

530

530         Is able to persuade all easily.

LXVIII

               These lovely children of Heaven’s highest Lord

                 Hastened to Pylos and the pastures wide

               And lofty stalls by the Alphean ford,

                 Where wealth in the mute night is multiplied

535

535         With silent growth. Whilst Hermes drove the herd

                 Out of the stony cavern, Phoebus spied

               The hides of those the little babe had slain,

               Stretched on the precipice above the plain.

LXIX

               ‘How was it possible,’ then Phoebus said,

540

540           ‘That you, a little child, born yesterday,

               A thing on mother’s milk and kisses fed,

                 Could two prodigious heifers ever flay?

               Even I myself may well hereafter dread

                 Your prowess, offspring of Cyllenian May,

545

545         When you grow strong and tall.’—He spoke, and bound

               Stiff withy bands the infant’s wrists around,

LXX

               He might as well have bound the oxen wild;

                 The withy bands, though starkly interknit,

               Fell at the feet of the immortal child,

550

550           Loosened by some device of his quick wit.

               Phoebus perceived himself again beguiled,

                 And stared—while Hermes sought some hole or pit,

               Looking askance and winking fast as thought,

               Where he might hide himself and not be caught.

LXXI

555

555         Sudden he changed his plan, and with strange skill

                 Subdued the strong Latonian, by the might

               Of winning music, to his mightier will;

                 His left hand held the lyre, and in his right

               The plectrum struck the chords—unconquerable

560

560           Up from beneath his hand in circling flight

               The gathering music rose—and sweet as Love

               The penetrating notes did live and move

LXXII

               Within the heart of great Apollo—he

                 Listened with all his soul, and laughed for pleasure.

565

565         Close to his side stood harping fearlessly

                 The unabashèd boy; and to the measure

               Of the sweet lyre, there followed loud and free

                 His joyous voice; for he unlocked the treasure

               Of his deep song, illustrating the birth

570

570         Of the bright Gods, and the dark desert Earth:

LXXIII

               And how to the Immortals every one

                 A portion was assigned of all that is;

               But chief Mnemosyne did Maia’s son

                 Clothe in the light of his loud melodies;—

575

575         And, as each God was born or had begun,

                 He in their order due and fit degrees

               Sung of his birth and being—and did move

               Apollo to unutterable love.

LXXIV

               These words were wingèd with his swift delight:

580

580           ‘You heifer-stealing schemer, well do you

               Deserve that fifty oxen should requite

                 Such minstrelsies as I have heard even now.

               Comrade of feasts, little contriving wight,

                 One of your secrets I would gladly know,

585

585         Whether the glorious power you now show forth

               Was folded up within you at your birth,

LXXV

               ‘Or whether mortal taught or God inspired

                 The power of unpremeditated song?

               Many divinest sounds have I admired,

590

590           The Olympian Gods and mortal men among;

               But such a strain of wondrous, strange, untired,

                 And soul-awakening music, sweet and strong,

               Yet did I never hear except from thee,

               Offspring of May, impostor Mercury!

LXXVI

595

595         ‘What Muse, what skill, what unimagined use,

                 What exercise of subtlest art, has given

               Thy songs such power?—for those who hear may choose

                 From three, the choicest of the gifts of Heaven,

               Delight, and love, and sleep,—sweet sleep, whose dews

600

600           Are sweeter than the balmy tears of even:—

               And I, who speak this praise, am that Apollo

               Whom the Olympian Muses ever follow:

LXXVII

               ‘And their delight is dance, and the blithe noise

                 Of song and overflowing poesy;

605

605         And sweet, even as desire, the liquid voice

                 Of pipes, that fills the clear air thrillingly;

               But never did my inmost soul rejoice

                 In this dear work of youthful revelry

               As now. I wonder at thee, son of Jove;

610

610         Thy harpings and thy song are soft as love.

LXXVIII

               ‘Now since thou hast, although so very small,

                 Science of arts so glorious, thus I swear,—

               And let this cornel javelin, keen and tall,

                 Witness between us what I promise here,—

615

615         That I will lead thee to the Olympian Hall,

                 Honoured and mighty, with thy mother dear.

               And many glorious gifts in joy will give thee,

               And even at the end will ne’er deceive thee.’

LXXIX

               To whom thus Mercury with prudent speech:—

620

620           ‘Wisely hast thou inquirèd of my skill:

               I envy thee no thing I know to teach

                 Even this day:—for both in word and will

               I would be gentle with thee; thou canst reach

                 All things in thy wise spirit, and thy sill

625

625         Is highest in Heaven among the sons of Jove,

               Who loves thee in the fulness of his love.

LXXX

               ‘The Counsellor Supreme has given to thee

                 Divinest gifts, out of the amplitude

               Of his profuse exhaustless treasury;

630

630           By thee, ’tis said, the depths are understood

               Of his far voice; by thee the mystery

                 Of all oracular fates,—and the dread mood

               Of the diviner is breathed up; even I—

               A child—perceive thy might and majesty.

LXXXI

635

635         ‘Thou canst seek out and compass all that wit

                 Can find or teach;—yet since thou wilt, come take

               The lyre—be mine the glory giving it—

                 Strike the sweet chords, and sing aloud, and wake

               Thy joyous pleasure out of many a fit

640

640           Of trancèd sound—and with fleet fingers make

               Thy liquid-voicèd comrade talk with thee,—

               It can talk measured music eloquently.

LXXXII

               ‘Then bear it boldly to the revel loud,

                 Love-wakening dance, or feast of solemn state,

645

645         A joy by night or day—for those endowed

                 With art and wisdom who interrogate

               It teaches, babbling in delightful mood

                 All things which make the spirit most elate,

               Soothing the mind with sweet familiar play,

650

650         Chasing the heavy shadows of dismay.

LXXXIII

               ‘To those who are unskilled in its sweet tongue,

                 Though they should question most impetuously

               Its hidden soul, it gossips something wrong—

                 Some senseless and impertinent reply.

655

655         But thou who art as wise as thou art strong

                 Canst compass all that thou desirest. I

               Present thee with this music-flowing shell,

               Knowing thou canst interrogate it well.

LXXXIV

               ‘And let us two henceforth together feed,

660

660           On this green mountain-slope and pastoral plain,

               The herds in litigation—they will breed

                 Quickly enough to recompense our pain,

               If to the bulls and cows we take good heed;—

                 And thou, though somewhat over fond of gain,

665

665         Grudge me not half the profit.’—Having spoke,

               The shell he proffered, and Apollo took;

LXXXV

               And gave him in return the glittering lash,

                 Installing him as herdsman;—from the look

               Of Mercury then laughed a joyous flash.

670

670           And then Apollo with the plectrum strook

               The chords, and from beneath his hands a crash

                 Of mighty sounds rushed up, whose music shook

               The soul with sweetness, and like an adept

               His sweeter voice a just accordance kept.

LXXXVI

675

675         The herd went wandering o’er the divine mead,

                 Whilst these most beautiful Sons of Jupiter

               Won their swift way up to the snowy head

                 Of white Olympus, with the joyous lyre

               Soothing their journey; and their father dread

680

680           Gathered them both into familiar

               Affection sweet,—and then, and now, and ever,

               Hermes must love Him of the Golden Quiver,

LXXXVII

               To whom he gave the lyre that sweetly sounded,

                 Which skilfully he held and played thereon.

685

685         He piped the while, and far and wide rebounded

                 The echo of his pipings; every one

               Of the Olympians sat with joy astounded;

                 While he conceived another piece of fun,

               One of his old tricks—which the God of Day

690

690         Perceiving, said:—‘I fear thee, Son of May;—

LXXXVIII

               ‘I fear thee and thy sly chameleon spirit,

                 Lest thou should steal my lyre and crookèd bow;

               This glory and power thou dost from Jove inherit,

                 To teach all craft upon the earth below;

695

695         Thieves love and worship thee—it is thy merit

                 To make all mortal business ebb and flow

               By roguery:—now, Hermes, if you dare

               By sacred Styx a mighty oath to swear

LXXXIX

               ‘That you will never rob me, you will do

700

700           A thing extremely pleasing to my heart.’

               Then Mercury sware by the Stygian dew,

                 That he would never steal his bow or dart,

               Or lay his hands on what to him was due,

                 Or ever would employ his powerful art

705

705         Against his Pythian fane. Then Phoebus swore

               There was no God or Man whom he loved more.

XC

               ‘And I will give thee as a good-will token,

                 The beautiful wand of wealth and happiness;

               A perfect three-leaved rod of gold unbroken,

710

710           Whose magic will thy footsteps ever bless;

               And whatsoever by Jove’s voice is spoken

                 Of earthly or divine from its recess,

               It, like a loving soul, to thee will speak,

               And more than this, do thou forbear to seek.

XCI

715

715         ‘For, dearest child, the divinations high

                 Which thou requirest, ’tis unlawful ever

               That thou, or any other deity

                 Should understand—and vain were the endeavour;

               For they are hidden in Jove’s mind, and I,

720

720           In trust of them, have sworn that I would never

               Betray the counsels of Jove’s inmost will

               To any God—the oath was terrible.

XCII

               Then, golden-wanded brother, ask me not

                 To speak the fates by Jupiter designed;

725

725         But be it mine to tell their various lot

                 To the unnumbered tribes of human-kind.

               Let good to these, and ill to those be wrought

                 As I dispense—but he who comes consigned

               By voice and wings of perfect augury

730

730         To my great shrine, shall find avail in me.

XCIII

               ‘Him will I not deceive, but will assist;

                 But he who comes relying on such birds

               As chatter vainly, who would strain and twist

                 The purpose of the Gods with idle words,

735

735         And deems their knowledge light, he shall have missed

                 His road—whilst I among my other hoards

               His gifts deposit. Yet, O son of May,

               I have another wondrous thing to say.

XCIV

               ‘There are three Fates, three virgin Sisters, who

740

740           Rejoicing in their wind-outspeeding wings,

               Their heads with flour snowed over white and new,

                 Sit in a vale round which Parnassus flings

               Its circling skirts—from these I have learned true

                 Vaticinations of remotest things.

745

745         My father cared not. Whilst they search out dooms,

               They sit apart and feed on honeycombs.

XCV

               ‘They, having eaten the fresh honey, grow

                 Drunk with divine enthusiasm, and utter

               With earnest willingness the truth they know;

750

750           But if deprived of that sweet food, they mutter

               All plausible delusions;—these to you

                 I give;—if you inquire, they will not stutter;

               Delight your own soul with them:—any man

               You would instruct may profit if he can.

XCVI

755

755         ‘Take these and the fierce oxen, Maia’s child—

                 O’er many a horse and toil-enduring mule,

               O’er jaggèd-jawèd lions, and the wild

                 White-tuskèd boars, o’er all, by field or pool,

               Of cattle which the mighty Mother mild

760

760           Nourishes in her bosom, thou shalt rule—

               Thou dost alone the veil from death uplift—

               Thou givest not—yet this is a great gift.’

XCVII

               Thus King Apollo loved the child of May

                 In truth, and Jove covered their love with joy.

765

765         Hermes with Gods and Men even from that day

                 Mingled, and wrought the latter much annoy,

               And little profit, going far astray

                 Through the dun night. Farewell, delightful Boy,

               Of Jove and Maia sprung,—never by me,

770

770         Nor thou, nor other songs, shall unremembered be.

HOMER’S HYMN TO CASTOR AND POLLUX

               YE wild-eyed Muses, sing the Twins of Jove,

               Whom the fair-ankled Leda, mixed in love

               With mighty Saturn’s Heaven-obscuring Child,

               On Taygetus, that lofty mountain wild,

5

5             Brought forth in joy: mild Pollux, void of blame,

               And steed-subduing Castor, heirs of fame.

               These are the Powers who earth-born mortals save

               And ships, whose flight is swift along the wave.

               When wintry tempests o’er the savage sea

10

10           Are raging, and the sailors tremblingly

               Call on the Twins of Jove with prayer and vow,

               Gathered in fear upon the lofty prow,

               And sacrifice with snow-white lambs,—the wind

               And the huge billow bursting close behind,

15

15           Even then beneath the weltering waters bear

               The staggering ship—they suddenly appear,

               On yellow wings rushing athwart the sky,

               And lull the blasts in mute tranquillity,

               And strew the waves on the white Ocean’s bed,

20

20           Fair omen of the voyage; from toil and dread

               The sailors rest, rejoicing in the sight,

               And plough the quiet sea in safe delight.

HOMER’S HYMN TO THE MOON

               DAUGHTERS of Jove, whose voice is melody,

               Muses, who know and rule all minstrelsy,

               Sing the wide-wingèd Moon! Around the earth,

               From her immortal head in Heaven shot forth,

5

5             Far light is scattered—boundless glory springs;

               Where’er she spreads her many-beaming wings

               The lampless air glows round her golden crown.

                 But when the Moon divine from Heaven is gone

               Under the sea, her beams within abide,

10

10           Till, bathing her bright limbs in Ocean’s tide,

               Clothing her form in garments glittering far,

               And having yoked to her immortal car

               The beam-invested steeds whose necks on high

               Curve back, she drives to a remoter sky

15

15           A western Crescent, borne impetuously.

               Then is made full the circle of her light,

               And as she grows, her beams more bright and bright

               Are poured from Heaven, where she is hovering then,

               A wonder and a sign to mortal men.

20

20             The Son of Saturn with this glorious Power

               Mingled in love and sleep—to whom she bore

               Pandeia, a bright maid of beauty rare

               Among the Gods, whose lives eternal are.

                 Hail Queen, great Moon, white-armed Divinity,

25

25           Fair-haired and favourable! thus with thee

               My song beginning, by its music sweet

               Shall make immortal many a glorious feat

               Of demigods, with lovely lips, so well

               Which minstrels, servants of the Muses, tell.

HOMER’S HYMN TO THE SUN

               OFFSPRING of Jove, Calliope, once more

               To the bright Sun, thy hymn of music pour;

               Whom to the child of star-clad Heaven and Earth

               Euryphaëssa, large-eyed nymph, brought forth;

5

5             Euryphaëssa, the famed sister fair

               Of great Hyperion, who to him did bear

               A race of loveliest children; the young Morn,

               Whose arms are like twin roses newly born,

               The fair-haired Moon, and the immortal Sun,

10

10           Who borne by heavenly steeds his race doth run

               Unconquerably, illuming the abodes

               Of mortal Men and the eternal Gods.

                 Fiercely look forth his awe-inspiring eyes,

               Beneath his golden helmet, whence arise

15

15           And are shot forth afar, clear beams of light;

               His countenance, with radiant glory bright,

               Beneath his graceful locks far shines around,

               And the light vest with which his limbs are bound,

               Of woof aethereal delicately twined,

20

20           Glows in the stream of the uplifting wind.

               His rapid steeds soon bear him to the West;

               Where their steep flight his hands divine arrest,

               And the fleet car with yoke of gold, which he

               Sends from bright Heaven beneath the shadowy sea.