How Apollo Got his Lyre

Apollo is the Greek god of the sun and light, music, poetry and prophesies, among other things. And he’s always shown strumming a lyre. Let’s find out how he actually got hold of one.

Hermes, the son of Zeus and Maia, was born in a sacred cave in the Mountain of Cyllene. His mother, who was the daughter of Atlas, kept the infant indoors for she did not want anyone to know about this child that she had had with Zeus.

But Hermes was a very naughty baby and ran out as often as he could, seeking sunshine and fresh air. One day, when he slipped out as usual, he found lying among the grass, a beautiful, spotted tortoise shell.

Delighted with his discovery, he brought it back to his cave home. He made holes in its side and, using the guts of cows, made some strings and he had himself a lyre! And beautiful music flowed from it, much to his delight. Hermes, you must understand, was just a toddler but could do all these seemingly impossible things because he was, after all, a god.

One night, just as his mother fell asleep, little Hermes rose quietly from his crib and made his way outside. The moon was shining as brilliantly as the sun that clear, cloudless summer night and a cool breeze was blowing. Hermes ran all the way down the mountain, pausing only to grab some leafy branches of a tamarisk tree. Throwing his toddler shoes into the ocean, he bound his feet with the leaves so that no one could track him. He made his way to the pastures where Apollo’s white cattle lay sleeping.

Choosing fifty of the finest cattle, Hermes began to drive them this way and that, laughing happily for it seemed like a lot of fun. Stealing them right out of their pasture, Hermes spent a good part of the night playing cowboy. When he finally got tired of his little game, he drove them up the mountain and hid them in a cave. But he had cleverly made them walk backwards (either Hermes was a very skilled cowboy or Apollo’s cattle had an inherent talent for that kind of thing), facing him as he led them, so that it would appear like they had come down the mountain instead of going up. He, of course, left no tracks with his leafy shoes!

But a peasant who was still at work at a vineyard on that full-moon night, happened to see a laughing baby boy driving the white cattle all the way up the mountain. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing! Really, such a little child! And what is that strange footwear and why are the cattle walking backwards?

As the sun began to rise, little Hermes rushed home and made his way back magically through the keyhole. Soon he was cosily wrapped in his cradle, clutching his tortoise-shell lyre to his chest, looking like he had slept soundly that night! His mother, of course, did not suspect a thing.

When Apollo discovered the cattle missing the next day, he was very angry. He went about asking everyone if they had seen anybody get away with the beasts—after all, there were fifty of them—and soon, he came upon the peasant who was still tending to the vines at daybreak. ‘Yes sir,’ he replied. ‘There was a strange little baby who had funny shoes who was driving all those cattle up the mountain, all backwards too.’

Apollo immediately knew who the culprit was, his recently born little half-brother Hermes. Who else? So he stomped his way up Mount Cyllene and knocked on Maia’s door.

‘Where is that little brat Hermes?’ he asked a surprised Maia, who was taken aback by the early-morning visitor. When Apollo informed her of the previous night’s events, she was certain it was her naughty toddler. She let Apollo in to go pluck the not-so-innocent child from his cradle. Hermes, of course, pretended to have been roused from deep sleep. ‘Cows? What are they? Never even heard of them,’ said he, rubbing his eyes.

‘Well, it’s time you heard and saw for yourself what a spanking awaits you!’ Apollo lifted the little one, lyre and all, and stormed out of the cave. ‘You can prove your innocence before the great gods now!’ snapped Apollo as he whisked the baby up Mount Olympus where Zeus and the Council of Gods were assembled.

Little Hermes was least perturbed to be before the throne of Zeus. ‘No, no, no. What do I know of your white cattle? Never seen one in my life!’ he insisted, smiling and winking at Zeus!

The father-god laughed indulgently at his mischief-making son. And then Hermes took his lyre and began to play the sweetest melodies. All the gods listened, enraptured, and even Apollo stopped his protests as the music enchanted them all.

‘That was lovely, little brother,’ said a smiling Apollo when the tune came to an end. He patted the tousled curls of the toddler fondly. ‘You can have the cattle. No one shall speak of those missing cows again. You’ve won them with your melody!’

Hermes smiled and handed over his lyre to Apollo. ‘Thank you, brother! Here, take this—my gift to you.’ Apollo was touched and charmed by this little trickster.

‘You shall henceforth be the herdsman of the cattle, little one,’ said Apollo and handed over his magic wand, the Caduceus. Two leaves fluttered atop the wand and two golden snakes were entwined below. The brothers embraced and became the best of friends. And Hermes went on to become the messenger god and the patron god of herdsman and travellers and . . . thieves!