Homeric Hymns

THE HOMERIC HYMNS

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(ll. 1-9) For some say, at Dracanum; and some, on windy Icarus; and

some, in Naxos, O Heaven-born, Insewn; and others by the

deep-eddying river Alpheus that pregnant Semele bare you to Zeus the

thunder-lover. And others yet, lord, say you were born in Thebes; but

all these lie. The Father of men and gods gave you birth remote from

men and secretly from white-armed Hera. There is a certain Nysa, a

mountain most high and richly grown with woods, far off in Phoenice,

near the streams of Aegyptus.

* * * *

(ll. 10-12) ‘...and men will lay up for her many offerings in her

shrines. And as these things are three, so shall mortals ever

sacrifice perfect hecatombs to you at your feasts each three years.’

(ll. 13-16) The Son of Cronos spoke and nodded with his dark brows. And

the divine locks of the king flowed forward from his immortal head, and

he made great Olympus reel. So spake wise Zeus and ordained it with a

nod.

(ll. 17-21) Be favourable, O Insewn, Inspirer of frenzied women! we

singers sing of you as we begin and as we end a strain, and none

forgetting you may call holy song to mind. And so, farewell, Dionysus,

Insewn, with your mother Semele whom men call Thyone.

(ll. 1-3) I begin to sing of rich-haired Demeter, awful goddess—of her

and her trim-ankled daughter whom Aidoneus rapt away, given to him by

all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer.

(ll. 4-18) Apart from Demeter, lady of the golden sword and glorious

fruits, she was playing with the deep-bosomed daughters of Oceanus and

gathering flowers over a soft meadow, roses and crocuses and beautiful

violets, irises also and hyacinths and the narcissus, which Earth made

to grow at the will of Zeus and to please the Host of Many, to be a

snare for the bloom-like girl—a marvellous, radiant flower. It was a

thing of awe whether for deathless gods or mortal men to see: from its

root grew a hundred blooms, and it smelled most sweetly, so that all

wide heaven above and the whole earth and the sea’s salt swell laughed

for joy. And the girl was amazed and reached out with both hands to

take the lovely toy; but the wide-pathed earth yawned there in the

plain of Nysa, and the lord, Host of Many, with his immortal horses

sprang out upon her—the Son of Cronos, He who has many names.

(ll. 19-32) He caught her up reluctant on his golden car and bare her

away lamenting. Then she cried out shrilly with her voice, calling upon

her father, the Son of Cronos, who is most high and excellent. But no

one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice,

nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tender-hearted Hecate,

bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave,

and the lord Helios, Hyperion’s bright son, as she cried to her father,

the Son of Cronos. But he was sitting aloof, apart from the gods, in

his temple where many pray, and receiving sweet offerings from mortal

men. So he, that Son of Cronos, of many names, who is Ruler of Many and

Host of Many, was bearing her away by leave of Zeus on his immortal

chariot—his own brother’s child and all unwilling.

(ll. 33-39) And so long as she, the goddess, yet beheld earth and

starry heaven and the strong-flowing sea where fishes shoal, and the

rays of the sun, and still hoped to see her dear mother and the tribes

of the eternal gods, so long hope calmed her great heart for all her

trouble.... ((LACUNA)) ....and the heights of the mountains and the

depths of the sea rang with her immortal voice: and her queenly mother

heard her.

(ll. 40-53) Bitter pain seized her heart, and she rent the covering

upon her divine hair with her dear hands: her dark cloak she cast down

from both her shoulders and sped, like a wild-bird, over the firm land

and yielding sea, seeking her child. But no one would tell her the

truth, neither god nor mortal men; and of the birds of omen none came

with true news for her. Then for nine days queenly Deo wandered over

the earth with flaming torches in her hands, so grieved that she never

tasted ambrosia and the sweet draught of nectar, nor sprinkled her body

with water. But when the tenth enlightening dawn had come, Hecate, with

a torch in her hands, met her, and spoke to her and told her news:

(ll. 54-58) ‘Queenly Demeter, bringer of seasons and giver of good

gifts, what god of heaven or what mortal man has rapt away Persephone

and pierced with sorrow your dear heart? For I heard her voice, yet saw

not with my eyes who it was. But I tell you truly and shortly all I

know.’

(ll. 59-73) So, then, said Hecate. And the daughter of rich-haired Rhea

answered her not, but sped swiftly with her, holding flaming torches in

her hands. So they came to Helios, who is watchman of both gods and

men, and stood in front of his horses: and the bright goddess enquired

of him: ‘Helios, do you at least regard me, goddess as I am, if ever by

word or deed of mine I have cheered your heart and spirit. Through the

fruitless air I heard the thrilling cry of my daughter whom I bare,

sweet scion of my body and lovely in form, as of one seized violently;

though with my eyes I saw nothing. But you—for with your beams you look

down from the bright upper air Over all the earth and sea—tell me truly

of my dear child, if you have seen her anywhere, what god or mortal man

has violently seized her against her will and mine, and so made off.’

(ll. 74-87) So said she. And the Son of Hyperion answered her: ‘Queen

Demeter, daughter of rich-haired Rhea, I will tell you the truth; for I

greatly reverence and pity you in your grief for your trim-ankled

daughter. None other of the deathless gods is to blame, but only

cloud-gathering Zeus who gave her to Hades, her father’s brother, to be

called his buxom wife. And Hades seized her and took her loudly crying

in his chariot down to his realm of mist and gloom. Yet, goddess, cease

your loud lament and keep not vain anger unrelentingly: Aidoneus, the

Ruler of Many, is no unfitting husband among the deathless gods for

your child, being your own brother and born of the same stock: also,

for honour, he has that third share which he received when division was

made at the first, and is appointed lord of those among whom he

dwells.’

(ll. 88-89) So he spake, and called to his horses: and at his chiding

they quickly whirled the swift chariot along, like long-winged birds.

(ll. 90-112) But grief yet more terrible and savage came into the heart

of Demeter, and thereafter she was so angered with the dark-clouded Son

of Cronos that she avoided the gathering of the gods and high Olympus,

and went to the towns and rich fields of men, disfiguring her form a

long while. And no one of men or deep-bosomed women knew her when they

saw her, until she came to the house of wise Celeus who then was lord

of fragrant Eleusis. Vexed in her dear heart, she sat near the wayside

by the Maiden Well, from which the women of the place were used to draw

water, in a shady place over which grew an olive shrub. And she was

like an ancient woman who is cut off from childbearing and the gifts of

garland-loving Aphrodite, like the nurses of king’s children who deal

justice, or like the house-keepers in their echoing halls. There the

daughters of Celeus, son of Eleusis, saw her, as they were coming for

easy-drawn water, to carry it in pitchers of bronze to their dear

father’s house: four were they and like goddesses in the flower of

their girlhood, Callidice and Cleisidice and lovely Demo and Callithoe

who was the eldest of them all. They knew her not,—for the gods are not

easily discerned by mortals—but standing near by her spoke winged

words:

(ll. 113-117) ‘Old mother, whence and who are you of folk born long

ago? Why are you gone away from the city and do not draw near the

houses? For there in the shady halls are women of just such age as you,

and others younger; and they would welcome you both by word and by

deed.’

(ll. 118-144) Thus they said. And she, that queen among goddesses

answered them saying: ‘Hail, dear children, whosoever you are of

woman-kind. I will tell you my story; for it is not unseemly that I

should tell you truly what you ask. Doso is my name, for my stately

mother gave it me. And now I am come from Crete over the sea’s wide

back,—not willingly; but pirates brought me thence by force of strength

against my liking. Afterwards they put in with their swift craft to

Thoricus, and there the women landed on the shore in full throng and

the men likewise, and they began to make ready a meal by the

stern-cables of the ship. But my heart craved not pleasant food, and I

fled secretly across the dark country and escaped my masters, that they

should not take me unpurchased across the sea, there to win a price for

me. And so I wandered and am come here: and I know not at all what land

this is or what people are in it. But may all those who dwell on

Olympus give you husbands and birth of children as parents desire, so

you take pity on me, maidens, and show me this clearly that I may

learn, dear children, to the house of what man and woman I may go, to

work for them cheerfully at such tasks as belong to a woman of my age.

Well could I nurse a new born child, holding him in my arms, or keep

house, or spread my masters’ bed in a recess of the well-built chamber,

or teach the women their work.’

(ll. 145-146) So said the goddess. And straightway the unwed maiden

Callidice, goodliest in form of the daughters of Celeus, answered her

and said:

(ll. 147-168) ‘Mother, what the gods send us, we mortals bear perforce,

although we suffer; for they are much stronger than we. But now I will

teach you clearly, telling you the names of men who have great power

and honour here and are chief among the people, guarding our city’s

coif of towers by their wisdom and true judgements: there is wise

Triptolemus and Dioclus and Polyxeinus and blameless Eumolpus and

Dolichus and our own brave father. All these have wives who manage in

the house, and no one of them, so soon as she has seen you, would

dishonour you and turn you from the house, but they will welcome you;

for indeed you are godlike. But if you will, stay here; and we will go

to our father’s house and tell Metaneira, our deep-bosomed mother, all

this matter fully, that she may bid you rather come to our home than

search after the houses of others. She has an only son, late-born, who

is being nursed in our well-built house, a child of many prayers and

welcome: if you could bring him up until he reached the full measure of

youth, any one of womankind who should see you would straightway envy

you, such gifts would our mother give for his upbringing.’

(ll. 169-183) So she spake: and the goddess bowed her head in assent.

And they filled their shining vessels with water and carried them off

rejoicing. Quickly they came to their father’s great house and

straightway told their mother according as they had heard and seen.

Then she bade them go with all speed and invite the stranger to come

for a measureless hire. As hinds or heifers in spring time, when sated

with pasture, bound about a meadow, so they, holding up the folds of

their lovely garments, darted down the hollow path, and their hair like

a crocus flower streamed about their shoulders. And they found the good

goddess near the wayside where they had left her before, and led her to

the house of their dear father. And she walked behind, distressed in

her dear heart, with her head veiled and wearing a dark cloak which

waved about the slender feet of the goddess.

(ll. 184-211) Soon they came to the house of heaven-nurtured Celeus and

went through the portico to where their queenly mother sat by a pillar

of the close-fitted roof, holding her son, a tender scion, in her

bosom. And the girls ran to her. But the goddess walked to the

threshold: and her head reached the roof and she filled the doorway

with a heavenly radiance. Then awe and reverence and pale fear took

hold of Metaneira, and she rose up from her couch before Demeter, and

bade her be seated. But Demeter, bringer of seasons and giver of

perfect gifts, would not sit upon the bright couch, but stayed silent

with lovely eyes cast down until careful Iambe placed a jointed seat

for her and threw over it a silvery fleece. Then she sat down and held

her veil in her hands before her face. A long time she sat upon the

stool without speaking because of her sorrow, and greeted no one

by word or by sign, but rested, never smiling, and tasting neither food

nor drink, because she pined with longing for her deep-bosomed

daughter, until careful Iambe—who pleased her moods in aftertime

also—moved the holy lady with many a quip and jest to smile and laugh

and cheer her heart. Then Metaneira filled a cup with sweet wine and

offered it to her; but she refused it, for she said it was not lawful

for her to drink red wine, but bade them mix meal and water with soft

mint and give her to drink. And Metaneira mixed the draught and gave it

to the goddess as she bade. So the great queen Deo received it to

observe the sacrament....

((LACUNA))

(ll. 212-223) And of them all, well-girded Metaneira first began to

speak: ‘Hail, lady! For I think you are not meanly but nobly born;

truly dignity and grace are conspicuous upon your eyes as in the eyes

of kings that deal justice. Yet we mortals bear perforce what the gods

send us, though we be grieved; for a yoke is set upon our necks. But

now, since you are come here, you shall have what I can bestow: and

nurse me this child whom the gods gave me in my old age and beyond my

hope, a son much prayed for. If you should bring him up until he reach

the full measure of youth, any one of womankind that sees you will

straightway envy you, so great reward would I give for his upbringing.’

(ll. 224-230) Then rich-haired Demeter answered her: ‘And to you, also,

lady, all hail, and may the gods give you good! Gladly will I take the

boy to my breast, as you bid me, and will nurse him. Never, I ween,

through any heedlessness of his nurse shall witchcraft hurt him nor yet

the Undercutter: for I know a charm far stronger than the

Woodcutter, and I know an excellent safeguard against woeful

witchcraft.’

(ll. 231-247) When she had so spoken, she took the child in her

fragrant bosom with her divine hands: and his mother was glad in her

heart. So the goddess nursed in the palace Demophoon, wise Celeus’

goodly son whom well-girded Metaneira bare. And the child grew like

some immortal being, not fed with food nor nourished at the breast: for

by day rich-crowned Demeter would anoint him with ambrosia as if he

were the offspring of a god and breathe sweetly upon him as she held

him in her bosom. But at night she would hide him like a brand in the

heart of the fire, unknown to his dear parents. And it wrought great

wonder in these that he grew beyond his age; for he was like the gods

face to face. And she would have made him deathless and unageing, had

not well-girded Metaneira in her heedlessness kept watch by night from

her sweet-smelling chamber and spied. But she wailed and smote her two

hips, because she feared for her son and was greatly distraught in her

heart; so she lamented and uttered winged words:

(ll. 248-249) ‘Demophoon, my son, the strange woman buries you deep in

fire and works grief and bitter sorrow for me.’

(ll. 250-255) Thus she spoke, mourning. And the bright goddess,

lovely-crowned Demeter, heard her, and was wroth with her. So with her

divine hands she snatched from the fire the dear son whom Metaneira had

born unhoped-for in the palace, and cast him from her to the ground;

for she was terribly angry in her heart. Forthwith she said to

well-girded Metaneira:

(ll. 256-274) ‘Witless are you mortals and dull to foresee your lot,

whether of good or evil, that comes upon you. For now in your

heedlessness you have wrought folly past healing; for—be witness the

oath of the gods, the relentless water of Styx—I would have made your

dear son deathless and unageing all his days and would have bestowed on

him everlasting honour, but now he can in no way escape death and the

fates. Yet shall unfailing honour always rest upon him, because he lay

upon my knees and slept in my arms. But, as the years move round and

when he is in his prime, the sons of the Eleusinians shall ever wage

war and dread strife with one another continually. Lo! I am that

Demeter who has share of honour and is the greatest help and cause of

joy to the undying gods and mortal men. But now, let all the people

build me a great temple and an altar below it and beneath the city and

its sheer wall upon a rising hillock above Callichorus. And I myself

will teach my rites, that hereafter you may reverently perform them and

so win the favour of my heart.’

(ll. 275-281) When she had so said, the goddess changed her stature and

her looks, thrusting old age away from her: beauty spread round about

her and a lovely fragrance was wafted from her sweet-smelling robes,

and from the divine body of the goddess a light shone afar, while

golden tresses spread down over her shoulders, so that the strong house

was filled with brightness as with lightning. And so she went out from

the palace.

(ll. 281-291) And straightway Metaneira’s knees were loosed and she

remained speechless for a long while and did not remember to take up

her late-born son from the ground. But his sisters heard his pitiful

wailing and sprang down from their well-spread beds: one of them took

up the child in her arms and laid him in her bosom, while another

revived the fire, and a third rushed with soft feet to bring their

mother from her fragrant chamber. And they gathered about the

struggling child and washed him, embracing him lovingly; but he was not

comforted, because nurses and handmaids much less skilful were holding

him now.

(ll. 292-300) All night long they sought to appease the glorious

goddess, quaking with fear. But, as soon as dawn began to show, they

told powerful Celeus all things without fail, as the lovely-crowned

goddess Demeter charged them. So Celeus called the countless people to

an assembly and bade them make a goodly temple for rich-haired Demeter

and an altar upon the rising hillock. And they obeyed him right

speedily and harkened to his voice, doing as he commanded. As for the

child, he grew like an immortal being.

(ll. 301-320) Now when they had finished building and had drawn back

from their toil, they went every man to his house. But golden-haired

Demeter sat there apart from all the blessed gods and stayed, wasting

with yearning for her deep-bosomed daughter. Then she caused a most

dreadful and cruel year for mankind over the all-nourishing earth: the

ground would not make the seed sprout, for rich-crowned Demeter kept it

hid. In the fields the oxen drew many a curved plough in vain, and much

white barley was cast upon the land without avail. So she would have

destroyed the whole race of man with cruel famine and have robbed them

who dwell on Olympus of their glorious right of gifts and sacrifices,

had not Zeus perceived and marked this in his heart. First he sent

golden-winged Iris to call rich-haired Demeter, lovely in form. So he

commanded. And she obeyed the dark-clouded Son of Cronos, and sped with

swift feet across the space between. She came to the stronghold of

fragrant Eleusis, and there finding dark-cloaked Demeter in her temple,

spake to her and uttered winged words:

(ll. 321-323) ‘Demeter, father Zeus, whose wisdom is everlasting, calls

you to come join the tribes of the eternal gods: come therefore, and

let not the message I bring from Zeus pass unobeyed.’

(ll. 324-333) Thus said Iris imploring her. But Demeter’s heart was not

moved. Then again the father sent forth all the blessed and eternal

gods besides: and they came, one after the other, and kept calling her

and offering many very beautiful gifts and whatever right she might be

pleased to choose among the deathless gods. Yet no one was able to

persuade her mind and will, so wrath was she in her heart; but she

stubbornly rejected all their words: for she vowed that she would never

set foot on fragrant Olympus nor let fruit spring out of the ground,

until she beheld with her eyes her own fair-faced daughter.

(ll. 334-346) Now when all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer heard this,

he sent the Slayer of Argus whose wand is of gold to Erebus, so that

having won over Hades with soft words, he might lead forth chaste

Persephone to the light from the misty gloom to join the gods, and that

her mother might see her with her eyes and cease from her anger. And

Hermes obeyed, and leaving the house of Olympus, straightway sprang

down with speed to the hidden places of the earth. And he found the

lord Hades in his house seated upon a couch, and his shy mate with him,

much reluctant, because she yearned for her mother. But she was afar

off, brooding on her fell design because of the deeds of the blessed

gods. And the strong Slayer of Argus drew near and said:

(ll. 347-356) ‘Dark-haired Hades, ruler over the departed, father Zeus

bids me bring noble Persephone forth from Erebus unto the gods, that

her mother may see her with her eyes and cease from her dread anger

with the immortals; for now she plans an awful deed, to destroy the

weakly tribes of earthborn men by keeping seed hidden beneath the

earth, and so she makes an end of the honours of the undying gods. For

she keeps fearful anger and does not consort with the gods, but sits

aloof in her fragrant temple, dwelling in the rocky hold of Eleusis.’

(ll. 357-359) So he said. And Aidoneus, ruler over the dead, smiled

grimly and obeyed the behest of Zeus the king. For he straightway urged

wise Persephone, saying:

(ll. 360-369) ‘Go now, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother, go, and

feel kindly in your heart towards me: be not so exceedingly cast down;

for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless gods,

that am own brother to father Zeus. And while you are here, you shall

rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among

the deathless gods: those who defraud you and do not appease your power

with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall

be punished for evermore.’

(ll. 370-383) When he said this, wise Persephone was filled with joy

and hastily sprang up for gladness. But he on his part secretly gave

her sweet pomegranate seed to eat, taking care for himself that she

might not remain continually with grave, dark-robed Demeter. Then

Aidoneus the Ruler of Many openly got ready his deathless horses

beneath the golden chariot. And she mounted on the chariot, and the

strong Slayer of Argos took reins and whip in his dear hands and drove

forth from the hall, the horses speeding readily. Swiftly they

traversed their long course, and neither the sea nor river-waters nor

grassy glens nor mountain-peaks checked the career of the immortal

horses, but they clave the deep air above them as they went. And Hermes

brought them to the place where rich-crowned Demeter was staying and

checked them before her fragrant temple.

(ll. 384-404) And when Demeter saw them, she rushed forth as does a

Maenad down some thick-wooded mountain, while Persephone on the other

side, when she saw her mother’s sweet eyes, left the chariot and

horses, and leaped down to run to her, and falling upon her neck,

embraced her. But while Demeter was still holding her dear child in her

arms, her heart suddenly misgave her for some snare, so that she feared

greatly and ceased fondling her daughter and asked of her at once: ‘My

child, tell me, surely you have not tasted any food while you were

below? Speak out and hide nothing, but let us both know. For if you

have not, you shall come back from loathly Hades and live with me and

your father, the dark-clouded Son of Cronos and be honoured by all the

deathless gods; but if you have tasted food, you must go back again

beneath the secret places of the earth, there to dwell a third part of

the seasons every year: yet for the two parts you shall be with me and

the other deathless gods. But when the earth shall bloom with the

fragrant flowers of spring in every kind, then from the realm of

darkness and gloom thou shalt come up once more to be a wonder for gods

and mortal men. And now tell me how he rapt you away to the realm of

darkness and gloom, and by what trick did the strong Host of Many

beguile you?’

(ll. 405-433) Then beautiful Persephone answered her thus: ‘Mother, I

will tell you all without error. When luck-bringing Hermes came, swift

messenger from my father the Son of Cronos and the other Sons of

Heaven, bidding me come back from Erebus that you might see me with

your eyes and so cease from your anger and fearful wrath against the

gods, I sprang up at once for joy; but he secretly put in my mouth

sweet food, a pomegranate seed, and forced me to taste against my will.

Also I will tell how he rapt me away by the deep plan of my father the

Son of Cronos and carried me off beneath the depths of the earth, and

will relate the whole matter as you ask. All we were playing in a

lovely meadow, Leucippe and Phaeno and Electra and Ianthe, Melita

also and Iache with Rhodea and Callirhoe and Melobosis and Tyche and

Ocyrhoe, fair as a flower, Chryseis, Ianeira, Acaste and Admete and

Rhodope and Pluto and charming Calypso; Styx too was there and Urania

and lovely Galaxaura with Pallas who rouses battles and Artemis

delighting in arrows: we were playing and gathering sweet flowers in

our hands, soft crocuses mingled with irises and hyacinths, and

rose-blooms and lilies, marvellous to see, and the narcissus which the

wide earth caused to grow yellow as a crocus. That I plucked in my joy;

but the earth parted beneath, and there the strong lord, the Host of

Many, sprang forth and in his golden chariot he bore me away, all

unwilling, beneath the earth: then I cried with a shrill cry. All this

is true, sore though it grieves me to tell the tale.’

(ll. 434-437) So did they turn, with hearts at one, greatly cheer each

the other’s soul and spirit with many an embrace: their heart had

relief from their griefs while each took and gave back joyousness.

(ll. 438-440) Then bright-coiffed Hecate came near to them, and often

did she embrace the daughter of holy Demeter: and from that time the

lady Hecate was minister and companion to Persephone.

(ll. 441-459) And all-seeing Zeus sent a messenger to them, rich-haired

Rhea, to bring dark-cloaked Demeter to join the families of the gods:

and he promised to give her what right she should choose among the

deathless gods and agreed that her daughter should go down for the

third part of the circling year to darkness and gloom, but for the two

parts should live with her mother and the other deathless gods. Thus he

commanded. And the goddess did not disobey the message of Zeus; swiftly

she rushed down from the peaks of Olympus and came to the plain of

Rharus, rich, fertile corn-land once, but then in nowise fruitful, for

it lay idle and utterly leafless, because the white grain was hidden by

design of trim-ankled Demeter. But afterwards, as springtime waxed, it

was soon to be waving with long ears of corn, and its rich furrows to

be loaded with grain upon the ground, while others would already be

bound in sheaves. There first she landed from the fruitless upper air:

and glad were the goddesses to see each other and cheered in heart.

Then bright-coiffed Rhea said to Demeter:

(ll. 460-469) ‘Come, my daughter; for far-seeing Zeus the

loud-thunderer calls you to join the families of the gods, and has

promised to give you what rights you please among the deathless gods,

and has agreed that for a third part of the circling year your daughter

shall go down to darkness and gloom, but for the two parts shall be

with you and the other deathless gods: so has he declared it shall be

and has bowed his head in token. But come, my child, obey, and be not

too angry unrelentingly with the dark-clouded Son of Cronos; but rather

increase forthwith for men the fruit that gives them life.’

(ll. 470-482) So spake Rhea. And rich-crowned Demeter did not refuse

but straightway made fruit to spring up from the rich lands, so that

the whole wide earth was laden with leaves and flowers. Then she went,

and to the kings who deal justice, Triptolemus and Diocles, the

horse-driver, and to doughty Eumolpus and Celeus, leader of the people,

she showed the conduct of her rites and taught them all her mysteries,

to Triptolemus and Polyxeinus and Diocles also,—awful mysteries which

no one may in any way transgress or pry into or utter, for deep awe of

the gods checks the voice. Happy is he among men upon earth who has

seen these mysteries; but he who is uninitiate and who has no part in

them, never has lot of like good things once he is dead, down in the

darkness and gloom.

(ll. 483-489) But when the bright goddess had taught them all, they

went to Olympus to the gathering of the other gods. And there they

dwell beside Zeus who delights in thunder, awful and reverend

goddesses. Right blessed is he among men on earth whom they freely

love: soon they do send Plutus as guest to his great house, Plutus who

gives wealth to mortal men.

(ll. 490-495) And now, queen of the land of sweet Eleusis and sea-girt

Paros and rocky Antron, lady, giver of good gifts, bringer of seasons,

queen Deo, be gracious, you and your daughter all beauteous Persephone,

and for my song grant me heart-cheering substance. And now I will

remember you and another song also.

(ll. 1-18) I will remember and not be unmindful of Apollo who shoots

afar. As he goes through the house of Zeus, the gods tremble before him

and all spring up from their seats when he draws near, as he bends his

bright bow. But Leto alone stays by the side of Zeus who delights in

thunder; and then she unstrings his bow, and closes his quiver, and

takes his archery from his strong shoulders in her hands and hangs them

on a golden peg against a pillar of his father’s house. Then she leads

him to a seat and makes him sit: and the Father gives him nectar in a

golden cup welcoming his dear son, while the other gods make him sit

down there, and queenly Leto rejoices because she bare a mighty son and

an archer. Rejoice, blessed Leto, for you bare glorious children, the

lord Apollo and Artemis who delights in arrows; her in Ortygia, and him

in rocky Delos, as you rested against the great mass of the Cynthian

hill hard by a palm-tree by the streams of Inopus.

(ll. 19-29) How, then, shall I sing of you who in all ways are a worthy

theme of song? For everywhere, O Phoebus, the whole range of song is

fallen to you, both over the mainland that rears heifers and over the

isles. All mountain-peaks and high headlands of lofty hills and rivers

flowing out to the deep and beaches sloping seawards and havens of the

sea are your delight. Shall I sing how at the first Leto bare you to be

the joy of men, as she rested against Mount Cynthus in that rocky isle,

in sea-girt Delos—while on either hand a dark wave rolled on landwards

driven by shrill winds—whence arising you rule over all mortal men?

(ll. 30-50) Among those who are in Crete, and in the township of

Athens, and in the isle of Aegina and Euboea, famous for ships, in

Aegae and Eiresiae and Peparethus near the sea, in Thracian Athos and

Pelion’s towering heights and Thracian Samos and the shady hills of

Ida, in Scyros and Phocaea and the high hill of Autocane and fair-lying

Imbros and smouldering Lemnos and rich Lesbos, home of Macar, the son

of Aeolus, and Chios, brightest of all the isles that lie in the sea,

and craggy Mimas and the heights of Corycus and gleaming Claros and the

sheer hill of Aesagea and watered Samos and the steep heights of

Mycale, in Miletus and Cos, the city of Meropian men, and steep Cnidos

and windy Carpathos, in Naxos and Paros and rocky Rhenaea—so far roamed

Leto in travail with the god who shoots afar, to see if any land would

be willing to make a dwelling for her son. But they greatly trembled

and feared, and none, not even the richest of them, dared receive

Phoebus, until queenly Leto set foot on Delos and uttered winged words

and asked her:

(ll. 51-61) ‘Delos, if you would be willing to be the abode of my son

Phoebus Apollo and make him a rich temple—; for no other will touch

you, as you will find: and I think you will never be rich in oxen and

sheep, nor bear vintage nor yet produce plants abundantly. But if you

have the temple of far-shooting Apollo, all men will bring you

hecatombs and gather here, and incessant savour of rich sacrifice will

always arise, and you will feed those who dwell in you from the hand of

strangers; for truly your own soil is not rich.’

(ll. 62-82) So spake Leto. And Delos rejoiced and answered and said:

‘Leto, most glorious daughter of great Coeus, joyfully would I receive

your child the far-shooting lord; for it is all too true that I am

ill-spoken of among men, whereas thus I should become very greatly

honoured. But this saying I fear, and I will not hide it from you,

Leto. They say that Apollo will be one that is very haughty and will

greatly lord it among gods and men all over the fruitful earth.

Therefore, I greatly fear in heart and spirit that as soon as he sets

the light of the sun, he will scorn this island—for truly I have but a

hard, rocky soil—and overturn me and thrust me down with his feet in

the depths of the sea; then will the great ocean wash deep above my

head for ever, and he will go to another land such as will please him,

there to make his temple and wooded groves. So, many-footed creatures

of the sea will make their lairs in me and black seals their dwellings

undisturbed, because I lack people. Yet if you will but dare to sware a

great oath, goddess, that here first he will build a glorious temple to

be an oracle for men, then let him afterwards make temples and wooded

groves amongst all men; for surely he will be greatly renowned.’

(ll. 83-88) So said Delos. And Leto sware the great oath of the gods:

‘Now hear this, Earth and wide Heaven above, and dropping water of Styx

(this is the strongest and most awful oath for the blessed gods),

surely Phoebus shall have here his fragrant altar and precinct, and you

he shall honour above all.’

(ll. 89-101) Now when Leto had sworn and ended her oath, Delos was very

glad at the birth of the far-shooting lord. But Leto was racked nine

days and nine nights with pangs beyond wont. And there were with her

all the chiefest of the goddesses, Dione and Rhea and Ichnaea and

Themis and loud-moaning Amphitrite and the other deathless goddesses

save white-armed Hera, who sat in the halls of cloud-gathering Zeus.

Only Eilithyia, goddess of sore travail, had not heard of Leto’s

trouble, for she sat on the top of Olympus beneath golden clouds by

white-armed Hera’s contriving, who kept her close through envy, because

Leto with the lovely tresses was soon to bear a son faultless and

strong.

(ll. 102-114) But the goddesses sent out Iris from the well-set isle to

bring Eilithyia, promising her a great necklace strung with golden

threads, nine cubits long. And they bade Iris call her aside from

white-armed Hera, lest she might afterwards turn her from coming with

her words. When swift Iris, fleet of foot as the wind, had heard all

this, she set to run; and quickly finishing all the distance she came

to the home of the gods, sheer Olympus, and forthwith called Eilithyia

out from the hall to the door and spoke winged words to her, telling

her all as the goddesses who dwell on Olympus had bidden her. So she

moved the heart of Eilithyia in her dear breast; and they went their

way, like shy wild-doves in their going.

(ll. 115-122) And as soon as Eilithyia the goddess of sore travail set

foot on Delos, the pains of birth seized Leto, and she longed to bring

forth; so she cast her arms about a palm tree and kneeled on the soft

meadow while the earth laughed for joy beneath. Then the child leaped

forth to the light, and all the goddesses washed you purely and cleanly

with sweet water, and swathed you in a white garment of fine texture,

new-woven, and fastened a golden band about you.

(ll. 123-130) Now Leto did not give Apollo, bearer of the golden blade,

her breast; but Themis duly poured nectar and ambrosia with her divine

hands: and Leto was glad because she had borne a strong son and an

archer. But as soon as you had tasted that divine heavenly food, O

Phoebus, you could no longer then be held by golden cords nor confined

with bands, but all their ends were undone. Forthwith Phoebus Apollo

spoke out among the deathless goddesses:

(ll. 131-132) ‘The lyre and the curved bow shall ever be dear to me,

and I will declare to men the unfailing will of Zeus.’

(ll. 133-139) So said Phoebus, the long-haired god who shoots afar and

began to walk upon the wide-pathed earth; and all goddesses were amazed

at him. Then with gold all Delos was laden, beholding the child of Zeus

and Leto, for joy because the god chose her above the islands and shore

to make his dwelling in her: and she loved him yet more in her heart,

and blossomed as does a mountain-top with woodland flowers.

(ll. 140-164) And you, O lord Apollo, god of the silver bow, shooting

afar, now walked on craggy Cynthus, and now kept wandering about the

island and the people in them. Many are your temples and wooded groves,

and all peaks and towering bluffs of lofty mountains and rivers flowing

to the sea are dear to you, Phoebus, yet in Delos do you most delight

your heart; for there the long robed Ionians gather in your honour with

their children and shy wives: mindful, they delight you with boxing and

dancing and song, so often as they hold their gathering. A man would

say that they were deathless and unageing if he should then come upon

the Ionians so met together. For he would see the graces of them all,

and would be pleased in heart gazing at the men and well-girded women

with their swift ships and great wealth. And there is this great wonder

besides—and its renown shall never perish—the girls of Delos,

hand-maidens of the Far-shooter; for when they have praised Apollo

first, and also Leto and Artemis who delights in arrows, they sing a

strain telling of men and women of past days, and charm the tribes of

men. Also they can imitate the tongues of all men and their clattering

speech: each would say that he himself were singing, so close to truth

is their sweet song.

(ll. 165-178) And now may Apollo be favourable and Artemis; and

farewell all you maidens. Remember me in after time whenever any one of

men on earth, a stranger who has seen and suffered much, comes here and

asks of you: ‘Whom think ye, girls, is the sweetest singer that comes

here, and in whom do you most delight?’ Then answer, each and all, with

one voice: ‘He is a blind man, and dwells in rocky Chios: his lays are

evermore supreme.’ As for me, I will carry your renown as far as I roam

over the earth to the well-placed this thing is true. And I will never

cease to praise far-shooting Apollo, god of the silver bow, whom

rich-haired Leto bare.

TO PYTHIAN APOLLO—

(ll. 179-181) O Lord, Lycia is yours and lovely Maeonia and Miletus,

charming city by the sea, but over wave-girt Delos you greatly reign

your own self.

(ll. 182-206) Leto’s all-glorious son goes to rocky Pytho, playing upon

his hollow lyre, clad in divine, perfumed garments; and at the touch of

the golden key his lyre sings sweet. Thence, swift as thought, he

speeds from earth to Olympus, to the house of Zeus, to join the

gathering of the other gods: then straightway the undying gods think

only of the lyre and song, and all the Muses together, voice sweetly

answering voice, hymn the unending gifts the gods enjoy and the

sufferings of men, all that they endure at the hands of the deathless

gods, and how they live witless and helpless and cannot find healing

for death or defence against old age. Meanwhile the rich-tressed Graces

and cheerful Seasons dance with Harmonia and Hebe and Aphrodite,

daughter of Zeus, holding each other by the wrist. And among them sings

one, not mean nor puny, but tall to look upon and enviable in mien,

Artemis who delights in arrows, sister of Apollo. Among them sport Ares

and the keen-eyed Slayer of Argus, while Apollo plays his lyre stepping

high and featly and a radiance shines around him, the gleaming of his

feet and close-woven vest. And they, even gold-tressed Leto and wise

Zeus, rejoice in their great hearts as they watch their dear son

playing among the undying gods.

(ll. 207-228) How then shall I sing of you—though in all ways you are a

worthy theme for song? Shall I sing of you as wooer and in the fields

of love, how you went wooing the daughter of Azan along with god-like

Ischys the son of well-horsed Elatius, or with Phorbas sprung from

Triops, or with Ereutheus, or with Leucippus and the wife of

Leucippus.... ((LACUNA)) ....you on foot, he with his chariot, yet he

fell not short of Triops. Or shall I sing how at the first you went

about the earth seeking a place of oracle for men, O far-shooting

Apollo? To Pieria first you went down from Olympus and passed by sandy

Lectus and Enienae and through the land of the Perrhaebi. Soon you came

to Iolcus and set foot on Cenaeum in Euboea, famed for ships: you stood

in the Lelantine plain, but it pleased not your heart to make a temple

there and wooded groves. From there you crossed the Euripus,

far-shooting Apollo, and went up the green, holy hills, going on to

Mycalessus and grassy-bedded Teumessus, and so came to the wood-clad

abode of Thebe; for as yet no man lived in holy Thebe, nor were there

tracks or ways about Thebe’s wheat-bearing plain as yet.

(ll. 229-238) And further still you went, O far-shooting Apollo, and

came to Onchestus, Poseidon’s bright grove: there the new-broken colt

distressed with drawing the trim chariot gets spirit again, and the

skilled driver springs from his car and goes on his way. Then the

horses for a while rattle the empty car, being rid of guidance; and if

they break the chariot in the woody grove, men look after the horses,

but tilt the chariot and leave it there; for this was the rite from the

very first. And the drivers pray to the lord of the shrine; but the

chariot falls to the lot of the god.

(ll. 239-243) Further yet you went, O far-shooting Apollo, and reached

next Cephissus’ sweet stream which pours forth its sweet-flowing water

from Lilaea, and crossing over it, O worker from afar, you passed

many-towered Ocalea and reached grassy Haliartus.

(ll. 244-253) Then you went towards Telphusa: and there the pleasant

place seemed fit for making a temple and wooded grove. You came very

near and spoke to her: ‘Telphusa, here I am minded to make a glorious

temple, an oracle for men, and hither they will always bring perfect

hecatombs, both those who live in rich Peloponnesus and those of Europe

and all the wave-washed isles, coming to seek oracles. And I will

deliver to them all counsel that cannot fail, giving answer in my rich

temple.’

(ll. 254-276) So said Phoebus Apollo, and laid out all the foundations

throughout, wide and very long. But when Telphusa saw this, she was

angry in heart and spoke, saying: ‘Lord Phoebus, worker from afar, I

will speak a word of counsel to your heart, since you are minded to

make here a glorious temple to be an oracle for men who will always

bring hither perfect hecatombs for you; yet I will speak out, and do

you lay up my words in your heart. The trampling of swift horses and

the sound of mules watering at my sacred springs will always irk you,

and men will like better to gaze at the well-made chariots and

stamping, swift-footed horses than at your great temple and the many

treasures that are within. But if you will be moved by me—for you,

lord, are stronger and mightier than I, and your strength is very

great—build at Crisa below the glades of Parnassus: there no bright

chariot will clash, and there will be no noise of swift-footed horses

near your well-built altar. But so the glorious tribes of men will

bring gifts to you as Iepaeon (‘Hail-Healer’), and you will receive

with delight rich sacrifices from the people dwelling round about.’ So

said Telphusa, that she alone, and not the Far-Shooter, should have

renown there; and she persuaded the Far-Shooter.

(ll. 277-286) Further yet you went, far-shooting Apollo, until you came

to the town of the presumptuous Phlegyae who dwell on this earth in a

lovely glade near the Cephisian lake, caring not for Zeus. And thence

you went speeding swiftly to the mountain ridge, and came to Crisa

beneath snowy Parnassus, a foothill turned towards the west: a cliff

hangs over it from above, and a hollow, rugged glade runs under. There

the lord Phoebus Apollo resolved to make his lovely temple, and thus he

said:

(ll. 287-293) ‘In this place I am minded to build a glorious temple to

be an oracle for men, and here they will always bring perfect

hecatombs, both they who dwell in rich Peloponnesus and the men of

Europe and from all the wave-washed isles, coming to question me. And I

will deliver to them all counsel that cannot fail, answering them in my

rich temple.’

(ll. 294-299) When he had said this, Phoebus Apollo laid out all the

foundations throughout, wide and very long; and upon these the sons of

Erginus, Trophonius and Agamedes, dear to the deathless gods, laid a

footing of stone. And the countless tribes of men built the whole

temple of wrought stones, to be sung of for ever.

(ll. 300-310) But near by was a sweet flowing spring, and there with

his strong bow the lord, the son of Zeus, killed the bloated, great

she-dragon, a fierce monster wont to do great mischief to men upon

earth, to men themselves and to their thin-shanked sheep; for she was a

very bloody plague. She it was who once received from gold-throned Hera

and brought up fell, cruel Typhaon to be a plague to men. Once on a

time Hera bare him because she was angry with father Zeus, when the Son

of Cronos bare all-glorious Athena in his head. Thereupon queenly Hera

was angry and spoke thus among the assembled gods:

(ll. 311-330) ‘Hear from me, all gods and goddesses, how

cloud-gathering Zeus begins to dishonour me wantonly, when he has made

me his true-hearted wife. See now, apart from me he has given birth to

bright-eyed Athena who is foremost among all the blessed gods. But my

son Hephaestus whom I bare was weakly among all the blessed gods and

shrivelled of foot, a shame and disgrace to me in heaven, whom I myself

took in my hands and cast out so that he fell in the great sea. But

silver-shod Thetis the daughter of Nereus took and cared for him with

her sisters: would that she had done other service to the blessed gods!

O wicked one and crafty! What else will you now devise? How dared you

by yourself give birth to bright-eyed Athena? Would not I have borne

you a child—I, who was at least called your wife among the undying gods

who hold wide heaven. Beware now lest I devise some evil thing for you

hereafter: yes, now I will contrive that a son be born me to be

foremost among the undying gods—and that without casting shame on the

holy bond of wedlock between you and me. And I will not come to your

bed, but will consort with the blessed gods far off from you.’

(ll. 331-333) When she had so spoken, she went apart from the gods,

being very angry. Then straightway large-eyed queenly Hera prayed,

striking the ground flatwise with her hand, and speaking thus:

(ll. 334-362) ‘Hear now, I pray, Earth and wide Heaven above, and you

Titan gods who dwell beneath the earth about great Tartarus, and from

whom are sprung both gods and men! Harken you now to me, one and all,

and grant that I may bear a child apart from Zeus, no wit lesser than

him in strength—nay, let him be as much stronger than Zeus as

all-seeing Zeus than Cronos.’ Thus she cried and lashed the earth with

her strong hand. Then the life-giving earth was moved: and when Hera

saw it she was glad in heart, for she thought her prayer would be

fulfilled. And thereafter she never came to the bed of wise Zeus for a

full year, not to sit in her carved chair as aforetime to plan wise

counsel for him, but stayed in her temples where many pray, and

delighted in her offerings, large-eyed queenly Hera. But when the

months and days were fulfilled and the seasons duly came on as the

earth moved round, she bare one neither like the gods nor mortal men,

fell, cruel Typhaon, to be a plague to men. Straightway large-eyed

queenly Hera took him and bringing one evil thing to another such, gave

him to the dragoness; and she received him. And this Typhaon used to

work great mischief among the famous tribes of men. Whosoever met the

dragoness, the day of doom would sweep him away, until the lord Apollo,

who deals death from afar, shot a strong arrow at her. Then she, rent

with bitter pangs, lay drawing great gasps for breath and rolling about

that place. An awful noise swelled up unspeakable as she writhed

continually this way and that amid the wood: and so she left her life,

breathing it forth in blood. Then Phoebus Apollo boasted over her:

(ll. 363-369) ‘Now rot here upon the soil that feeds man! You at least

shall live no more to be a fell bane to men who eat the fruit of the

all-nourishing earth, and who will bring hither perfect hecatombs.

Against cruel death neither Typhoeus shall avail you nor ill-famed

Chimera, but here shall the Earth and shining Hyperion make you rot.’

(ll. 370-374) Thus said Phoebus, exulting over her: and darkness

covered her eyes. And the holy strength of Helios made her rot away

there; wherefore the place is now called Pytho, and men call the lord

Apollo by another name, Pythian; because on that spot the power of

piercing Helios made the monster rot away.

(ll. 375-378) Then Phoebus Apollo saw that the sweet-flowing spring had

beguiled him, and he started out in anger against Telphusa; and soon

coming to her, he stood close by and spoke to her:

(ll. 379-381) ‘Telphusa, you were not, after all, to keep to yourself

this lovely place by deceiving my mind, and pour forth your clear

flowing water: here my renown shall also be and not yours alone?’

(ll. 382-387) Thus spoke the lord, far-working Apollo, and pushed over

upon her a crag with a shower of rocks, hiding her streams: and he made

himself an altar in a wooded grove very near the clear-flowing stream.

In that place all men pray to the great one by the name Telphusian,

because he humbled the stream of holy Telphusa.

(ll. 388-439) Then Phoebus Apollo pondered in his heart what men he

should bring in to be his ministers in sacrifice and to serve him in

rocky Pytho. And while he considered this, he became aware of a swift

ship upon the wine-like sea in which were many men and goodly, Cretans

from Cnossos, the city of Minos, they who do sacrifice to the

prince and announce his decrees, whatsoever Phoebus Apollo, bearer of

the golden blade, speaks in answer from his laurel tree below the dells

of Parnassus. These men were sailing in their black ship for traffic

and for profit to sandy Pylos and to the men of Pylos. But Phoebus

Apollo met them: in the open sea he sprang upon their swift ship, like

a dolphin in shape, and lay there, a great and awesome monster, and

none of them gave heed so as to understand; but they sought to

cast the dolphin overboard. But he kept shaking the black ship every

way and make the timbers quiver. So they sat silent in their craft for

fear, and did not loose the sheets throughout the black, hollow ship,

nor lowered the sail of their dark-prowed vessel, but as they had set

it first of all with oxhide ropes, so they kept sailing on; for a

rushing south wind hurried on the swift ship from behind. First they

passed by Malea, and then along the Laconian coast they came to

Taenarum, sea-garlanded town and country of Helios who gladdens men,

where the thick-fleeced sheep of the lord Helios feed continually and

occupy a glad-some country. There they wished to put their ship to

shore, and land and comprehend the great marvel and see with their eyes

whether the monster would remain upon the deck of the hollow ship, or

spring back into the briny deep where fishes shoal. But the well-built

ship would not obey the helm, but went on its way all along

Peloponnesus: and the lord, far-working Apollo, guided it easily with

the breath of the breeze. So the ship ran on its course and came to

Arena and lovely Argyphea and Thryon, the ford of Alpheus, and

well-placed Aepy and sandy Pylos and the men of Pylos; past Cruni it

went and Chalcis and past Dyme and fair Elis, where the Epei rule. And

at the time when she was making for Pherae, exulting in the breeze from

Zeus, there appeared to them below the clouds the steep mountain of

Ithaca, and Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus. But when they were

passed by all the coast of Peloponnesus, then, towards Crisa, that vast

gulf began to heave in sight which through all its length cuts off the

rich isle of Pelops. There came on them a strong, clear west-wind by

ordinance of Zeus and blew from heaven vehemently, that with all speed

the ship might finish coursing over the briny water of the sea. So they

began again to voyage back towards the dawn and the sun: and the lord

Apollo, son of Zeus, led them on until they reached far-seen Crisa,

land of vines, and into haven: there the sea-coursing ship grounded on

the sands.

(ll. 440-451) Then, like a star at noonday, the lord, far-working

Apollo, leaped from the ship: flashes of fire flew from him thick and

their brightness reached to heaven. He entered into his shrine between

priceless tripods, and there made a flame to flare up bright, showing

forth the splendour of his shafts, so that their radiance filled all

Crisa, and the wives and well-girded daughters of the Crisaeans raised

a cry at that outburst of Phoebus; for he cast great fear upon them

all. From his shrine he sprang forth again, swift as a thought, to

speed again to the ship, bearing the form of a man, brisk and sturdy,

in the prime of his youth, while his broad shoulders were covered with

his hair: and he spoke to the Cretans, uttering winged words:

(ll. 452-461) ‘Strangers, who are you? Whence come you sailing along

the paths of the sea? Are you for traffic, or do you wander at random

over the sea as pirates do who put their own lives to hazard and bring

mischief to men of foreign parts as they roam? Why rest you so and are

afraid, and do not go ashore nor stow the gear of your black ship? For

that is the custom of men who live by bread, whenever they come to land

in their dark ships from the main, spent with toil; at once desire for

sweet food catches them about the heart.’

(ll. 462-473) So speaking, he put courage in their hearts, and the

master of the Cretans answered him and said: ‘Stranger—though you are

nothing like mortal men in shape or stature, but are as the deathless

gods—hail and all happiness to you, and may the gods give you good. Now

tell me truly that I may surely know it: what country is this, and what

land, and what men live herein? As for us, with thoughts set

otherwards, we were sailing over the great sea to Pylos from Crete (for

from there we declare that we are sprung), but now are come on

shipboard to this place by no means willingly—another way and other

paths—and gladly would we return. But one of the deathless gods brought

us here against our will.’

(ll. 474-501) Then far-working Apollo answered then and said:

‘Strangers who once dwelt about wooded Cnossos but now shall return no

more each to his loved city and fair house and dear wife; here shall

you keep my rich temple that is honoured by many men. I am the son of

Zeus; Apollo is my name: but you I brought here over the wide gulf of

the sea, meaning you no hurt; nay, here you shall keep my rich temple

that is greatly honoured among men, and you shall know the plans of the

deathless gods, and by their will you shall be honoured continually for

all time. And now come, make haste and do as I say. First loose the

sheets and lower the sail, and then draw the swift ship up upon the

land. Take out your goods and the gear of the straight ship, and make

an altar upon the beach of the sea: light fire upon it and make an

offering of white meal. Next, stand side by side around the altar and

pray: and in as much as at the first on the hazy sea I sprang upon the

swift ship in the form of a dolphin, pray to me as Apollo Delphinius;

also the altar itself shall be called Delphinius and overlooking

for ever. Afterwards, sup beside your dark ship and pour an offering to

the blessed gods who dwell on Olympus. But when you have put away

craving for sweet food, come with me singing the hymn Ie Paean (Hail,

Healer!), until you come to the place where you shall keep my rich

temple.’

(ll. 502-523) So said Apollo. And they readily harkened to him and

obeyed him. First they unfastened the sheets and let down the sail and

lowered the mast by the forestays upon the mast-rest. Then, landing

upon the beach of the sea, they hauled up the ship from the water to

dry land and fixed long stays under it. Also they made an altar upon

the beach of the sea, and when they had lit a fire, made an offering of

white meal, and prayed standing around the altar as Apollo had bidden

them. Then they took their meal by the swift, black ship, and poured an

offering to the blessed gods who dwell on Olympus. And when they had

put away craving for drink and food, they started out with the lord

Apollo, the son of Zeus, to lead them, holding a lyre in his hands, and

playing sweetly as he stepped high and featly. So the Cretans followed

him to Pytho, marching in time as they chanted the Ie Paean after the

manner of the Cretan paean-singers and of those in whose hearts the

heavenly Muse has put sweet-voiced song. With tireless feet they

approached the ridge and straightway came to Parnassus and the lovely

place where they were to dwell honoured by many men. There Apollo

brought them and showed them his most holy sanctuary and rich temple.

(ll. 524-525) But their spirit was stirred in their dear breasts, and

the master of the Cretans asked him, saying:

(ll. 526-530) ‘Lord, since you have brought us here far from our dear

ones and our fatherland,—for so it seemed good to your heart,—tell us

now how we shall live. That we would know of you. This land is not to

be desired either for vineyards or for pastures so that we can live

well thereon and also minister to men.’

(ll. 531-544) Then Apollo, the son of Zeus, smiled upon them and said:

‘Foolish mortals and poor drudges are you, that you seek cares and hard

toils and straits! Easily will I tell you a word and set it in your

hearts. Though each one of you with knife in hand should slaughter

sheep continually, yet would you always have abundant store, even all

that the glorious tribes of men bring here for me. But guard you my

temple and receive the tribes of men that gather to this place, and

especially show mortal men my will, and do you keep righteousness in

your heart. But if any shall be disobedient and pay no heed to my

warning, or if there shall be any idle word or deed and outrage as is

common among mortal men, then other men shall be your masters and with

a strong hand shall make you subject for ever. All has been told you:

do you keep it in your heart.’

(ll. 545-546) And so, farewell, son of Zeus and Leto; but I will

remember you and another hymn also.

(ll. 1-29) Muse, sing of Hermes, the son of Zeus and Maia, lord of

Cyllene and Arcadia rich in flocks, the luck-bringing messenger of the

immortals whom Maia bare, the rich-tressed nymph, when she was joined

in love with Zeus,—a shy goddess, for she avoided the company of the

blessed gods, and lived within a deep, shady cave. There the son of

Cronos used to lie with the rich-tressed nymph, unseen by deathless

gods and mortal men, at dead of night while sweet sleep should hold

white-armed Hera fast. And when the purpose of great Zeus was fixed in

heaven, she was delivered and a notable thing was come to pass. For

then she bare a son, of many shifts, blandly cunning, a robber, a

cattle driver, a bringer of dreams, a watcher by night, a thief at the

gates, one who was soon to show forth wonderful deeds among the

deathless gods. Born with the dawning, at mid-day he played on the

lyre, and in the evening he stole the cattle of far-shooting Apollo on

the fourth day of the month; for on that day queenly Maia bare him. So

soon as he had leaped from his mother’s heavenly womb, he lay not long

waiting in his holy cradle, but he sprang up and sought the oxen of

Apollo. But as he stepped over the threshold of the high-roofed cave,

he found a tortoise there and gained endless delight. For it was Hermes

who first made the tortoise a singer. The creature fell in his way at

the courtyard gate, where it was feeding on the rich grass before the

dwelling, waddling along. When he saw it, the luck-bringing son of Zeus

laughed and said:

(ll. 30-38) ‘An omen of great luck for me so soon! I do not slight it.

Hail, comrade of the feast, lovely in shape, sounding at the dance!

With joy I meet you! Where got you that rich gaud for covering, that

spangled shell—a tortoise living in the mountains? But I will take and

carry you within: you shall help me and I will do you no disgrace,

though first of all you must profit me. It is better to be at home:

harm may come out of doors. Living, you shall be a spell against

mischievous witchcraft; but if you die, then you shall make

sweetest song.

(ll. 39-61) Thus speaking, he took up the tortoise in both hands and

went back into the house carrying his charming toy. Then he cut off its

limbs and scooped out the marrow of the mountain-tortoise with a scoop

of grey iron. As a swift thought darts through the heart of a man when

thronging cares haunt him, or as bright glances flash from the eye, so

glorious Hermes planned both thought and deed at once. He cut stalks of

reed to measure and fixed them, fastening their ends across the back

and through the shell of the tortoise, and then stretched ox hide all

over it by his skill. Also he put in the horns and fitted a cross-piece

upon the two of them, and stretched seven strings of sheep-gut. But

when he had made it he proved each string in turn with the key, as he

held the lovely thing. At the touch of his hand it sounded

marvellously; and, as he tried it, the god sang sweet random snatches,

even as youths bandy taunts at festivals. He sang of Zeus the son of

Cronos and neat-shod Maia, the converse which they had before in the

comradeship of love, telling all the glorious tale of his own

begetting. He celebrated, too, the handmaids of the nymph, and her

bright home, and the tripods all about the house, and the abundant

cauldrons.

(ll. 62-67) But while he was singing of all these, his heart was bent

on other matters. And he took the hollow lyre and laid it in his sacred

cradle, and sprang from the sweet-smelling hall to a watch-place,

pondering sheer trickery in his heart—deeds such as knavish folk pursue

in the dark night-time; for he longed to taste flesh.

(ll. 68-86) The Sun was going down beneath the earth towards Ocean with

his horses and chariot when Hermes came hurrying to the shadowy

mountains of Pieria, where the divine cattle of the blessed gods had

their steads and grazed the pleasant, unmown meadows. Of these the Son

of Maia, the sharp-eyed slayer of Argus then cut off from the herd

fifty loud-lowing kine, and drove them straggling-wise across a sandy

place, turning their hoof-prints aside. Also, he bethought him of a

crafty ruse and reversed the marks of their hoofs, making the front

behind and the hind before, while he himself walked the other way.

Then he wove sandals with wicker-work by the sand of the sea, wonderful

things, unthought of, unimagined; for he mixed together tamarisk and

myrtle-twigs, fastening together an armful of their fresh, young wood,

and tied them, leaves and all securely under his feet as light sandals.

The brushwood the glorious Slayer of Argus plucked in Pieria as he was

preparing for his journey, making shift as one making haste for a

long journey.

(ll. 87-89) But an old man tilling his flowering vineyard saw him as he

was hurrying down the plain through grassy Onchestus. So the Son of

Maia began and said to him:

(ll. 90-93) ‘Old man, digging about your vines with bowed shoulders,

surely you shall have much wine when all these bear fruit, if you obey

me and strictly remember not to have seen what you have seen, and not

to have heard what you have heard, and to keep silent when nothing of

your own is harmed.’

(ll. 94-114) When he had said this much, he hurried the strong cattle

on together: through many shadowy mountains and echoing gorges and

flowery plains glorious Hermes drove them. And now the divine night,

his dark ally, was mostly passed, and dawn that sets folk to work was

quickly coming on, while bright Selene, daughter of the lord Pallas,

Megamedes’ son, had just climbed her watch-post, when the strong Son of

Zeus drove the wide-browed cattle of Phoebus Apollo to the river

Alpheus. And they came unwearied to the high-roofed byres and the

drinking-troughs that were before the noble meadow. Then, after he had

well-fed the loud-bellowing cattle with fodder and driven them into the

byre, close-packed and chewing lotus and began to seek the art of fire.

He chose a stout laurel branch and trimmed it with the knife....

((LACUNA)) ....held firmly in his hand: and the hot smoke rose up.

For it was Hermes who first invented fire-sticks and fire. Next he took

many dried sticks and piled them thick and plenty in a sunken trench:

and flame began to glow, spreading afar the blast of fierce-burning

fire.

(ll. 115-137) And while the strength of glorious Hephaestus was

beginning to kindle the fire, he dragged out two lowing, horned cows

close to the fire; for great strength was with him. He threw them both

panting upon their backs on the ground, and rolled them on their sides,

bending their necks over, and pierced their vital chord. Then he

went on from task to task: first he cut up the rich, fatted meat, and

pierced it with wooden spits, and roasted flesh and the honourable

chine and the paunch full of dark blood all together. He laid them

there upon the ground, and spread out the hides on a rugged rock: and

so they are still there many ages afterwards, a long, long time after

all this, and are continually. Next glad-hearted Hermes dragged

the rich meats he had prepared and put them on a smooth, flat stone,

and divided them into twelve portions distributed by lot, making each

portion wholly honourable. Then glorious Hermes longed for the

sacrificial meat, for the sweet savour wearied him, god though he was;

nevertheless his proud heart was not prevailed upon to devour the

flesh, although he greatly desired. But he put away the fat and

all the flesh in the high-roofed byre, placing them high up to be a

token of his youthful theft. And after that he gathered dry sticks and

utterly destroyed with fire all the hoofs and all the heads.

(ll. 138-154) And when the god had duly finished all, he threw his

sandals into deep-eddying Alpheus, and quenched the embers, covering

the black ashes with sand, and so spent the night while Selene’s soft

light shone down. Then the god went straight back again at dawn to the

bright crests of Cyllene, and no one met him on the long journey either

of the blessed gods or mortal men, nor did any dog bark. And

luck-bringing Hermes, the son of Zeus, passed edgeways through the

key-hole of the hall like the autumn breeze, even as mist: straight

through the cave he went and came to the rich inner chamber, walking

softly, and making no noise as one might upon the floor. Then glorious

Hermes went hurriedly to his cradle, wrapping his swaddling clothes

about his shoulders as though he were a feeble babe, and lay playing

with the covering about his knees; but at his left hand he kept close

his sweet lyre.

(ll. 155-161) But the god did not pass unseen by the goddess his

mother; but she said to him: ‘How now, you rogue! Whence come you back

so at night-time, you that wear shamelessness as a garment? And now I

surely believe the son of Leto will soon have you forth out of doors

with unbreakable cords about your ribs, or you will live a rogue’s life

in the glens robbing by whiles. Go to, then; your father got you to be

a great worry to mortal men and deathless gods.’

(ll. 162-181) Then Hermes answered her with crafty words: ‘Mother, why

do you seek to frighten me like a feeble child whose heart knows few

words of blame, a fearful babe that fears its mother’s scolding? Nay,

but I will try whatever plan is best, and so feed myself and you

continually. We will not be content to remain here, as you bid, alone

of all the gods unfee’d with offerings and prayers. Better to live in

fellowship with the deathless gods continually, rich, wealthy, and

enjoying stories of grain, than to sit always in a gloomy cave: and, as

regards honour, I too will enter upon the rite that Apollo has. If my

father will not give it to me, I will seek—and I am able—to be a prince

of robbers. And if Leto’s most glorious son shall seek me out, I think

another and a greater loss will befall him. For I will go to Pytho to

break into his great house, and will plunder therefrom splendid

tripods, and cauldrons, and gold, and plenty of bright iron, and much

apparel; and you shall see it if you will.’

(ll. 182-189) With such words they spoke together, the son of Zeus who

holds the aegis, and the lady Maia. Now Eros the early born was rising

from deep-flowing Ocean, bringing light to men, when Apollo, as he

went, came to Onchestus, the lovely grove and sacred place of the

loud-roaring Holder of the Earth. There he found an old man grazing his

beast along the pathway from his court-yard fence, and the all-glorious

Son of Leto began and said to him.

(ll. 190-200) ‘Old man, weeder of grassy Onchestus, I am come here

from Pieria seeking cattle, cows all of them, all with curving horns,

from my herd. The black bull was grazing alone away from the rest, but

fierce-eyed hounds followed the cows, four of them, all of one mind,

like men. These were left behind, the dogs and the bull—which is great

marvel; but the cows strayed out of the soft meadow, away from the

pasture when the sun was just going down. Now tell me this, old man

born long ago: have you seen one passing along behind those cows?’

(ll. 201-211) Then the old man answered him and said: ‘My son, it is

hard to tell all that one’s eyes see; for many wayfarers pass to and

fro this way, some bent on much evil, and some on good: it is difficult

to know each one. However, I was digging about my plot of vineyard all

day long until the sun went down, and I thought, good sir, but I do not

know for certain, that I marked a child, whoever the child was, that

followed long-horned cattle—an infant who had a staff and kept walking

from side to side: he was driving them backwards way, with their heads

toward him.’

(ll. 212-218) So said the old man. And when Apollo heard this report,

he went yet more quickly on his way, and presently, seeing a

long-winged bird, he knew at once by that omen that thief was the child

of Zeus the son of Cronos. So the lord Apollo, son of Zeus, hurried on

to goodly Pylos seeking his shambling oxen, and he had his broad

shoulders covered with a dark cloud. But when the Far-Shooter perceived

the tracks, he cried:

(ll. 219-226) ‘Oh, oh! Truly this is a great marvel that my eyes

behold! These are indeed the tracks of straight-horned oxen, but they

are turned backwards towards the flowery meadow. But these others are

not the footprints of man or woman or grey wolves or bears or lions,

nor do I think they are the tracks of a rough-maned Centaur—whoever it

be that with swift feet makes such monstrous footprints; wonderful are

the tracks on this side of the way, but yet more wonderfully are those

on that.’

(ll. 227-234) When he had so said, the lord Apollo, the Son of Zeus

hastened on and came to the forest-clad mountain of Cyllene and the

deep-shadowed cave in the rock where the divine nymph brought forth the

child of Zeus who is the son of Cronos. A sweet odour spread over the

lovely hill, and many thin-shanked sheep were grazing on the grass.

Then far-shooting Apollo himself stepped down in haste over the stone

threshold into the dusky cave.

(ll. 235-253) Now when the Son of Zeus and Maia saw Apollo in a rage

about his cattle, he snuggled down in his fragrant swaddling-clothes;

and as wood-ash covers over the deep embers of tree-stumps, so Hermes

cuddled himself up when he saw the Far-Shooter. He squeezed head and

hands and feet together in a small space, like a new born child seeking

sweet sleep, though in truth he was wide awake, and he kept his lyre

under his armpit. But the Son of Leto was aware and failed not to

perceive the beautiful mountain-nymph and her dear son, albeit a little

child and swathed so craftily. He peered in every corner of the great

dwelling and, taking a bright key, he opened three closets full of

nectar and lovely ambrosia. And much gold and silver was stored in

them, and many garments of the nymph, some purple and some silvery

white, such as are kept in the sacred houses of the blessed gods. Then,

after the Son of Leto had searched out the recesses of the great house,

he spake to glorious Hermes:

(ll. 254-259) ‘Child, lying in the cradle, make haste and tell me of my

cattle, or we two will soon fall out angrily. For I will take and cast

you into dusty Tartarus and awful hopeless darkness, and neither your

mother nor your father shall free you or bring you up again to the

light, but you will wander under the earth and be the leader amongst

little folk.’

(ll. 260-277) Then Hermes answered him with crafty words: ‘Son of Leto,

what harsh words are these you have spoken? And is it cattle of the

field you are come here to seek? I have not seen them: I have not heard

of them: no one has told me of them. I cannot give news of them, nor

win the reward for news. Am I like a cattle-lifter, a stalwart person?

This is no task for me: rather I care for other things: I care for

sleep, and milk of my mother’s breast, and wrappings round my

shoulders, and warm baths. Let no one hear the cause of this dispute;

for this would be a great marvel indeed among the deathless gods, that

a child newly born should pass in through the forepart of the house

with cattle of the field: herein you speak extravagantly. I was born

yesterday, and my feet are soft and the ground beneath is rough;

nevertheless, if you will have it so, I will swear a great oath by my

father’s head and vow that neither am I guilty myself, neither have I

seen any other who stole your cows—whatever cows may be; for I know

them only by hearsay.’

(ll. 278-280) So, then, said Hermes, shooting quick glances from his

eyes: and he kept raising his brows and looking this way and that,

whistling long and listening to Apollo’s story as to an idle tale.

(ll. 281-292) But far-working Apollo laughed softly and said to him: ‘O

rogue, deceiver, crafty in heart, you talk so innocently that I most

surely believe that you have broken into many a well-built house and

stripped more than one poor wretch bare this night, gathering his

goods together all over the house without noise. You will plague many a

lonely herdsman in mountain glades, when you come on herds and

thick-fleeced sheep, and have a hankering after flesh. But come now, if

you would not sleep your last and latest sleep, get out of your cradle,

you comrade of dark night. Surely hereafter this shall be your title

amongst the deathless gods, to be called the prince of robbers

continually.’

(ll. 293-300) So said Phoebus Apollo, and took the child and began to

carry him. But at that moment the strong Slayer of Argus had his plan,

and, while Apollo held him in his hands, sent forth an omen, a

hard-worked belly-serf, a rude messenger, and sneezed directly after.

And when Apollo heard it, he dropped glorious Hermes out of his hands

on the ground: then sitting down before him, though he was eager to go

on his way, he spoke mockingly to Hermes:

(ll. 301-303) ‘Fear not, little swaddling baby, son of Zeus and Maia. I

shall find the strong cattle presently by these omens, and you shall

lead the way.’

(ll. 304-306) When Apollo had so said, Cyllenian Hermes sprang up

quickly, starting in haste. With both hands he pushed up to his ears

the covering that he had wrapped about his shoulders, and said:

(ll. 307-312) ‘Where are you carrying me, Far-Worker, hastiest of all

the gods? Is it because of your cattle that you are so angry and harass

me? O dear, would that all the sort of oxen might perish; for it is not

I who stole your cows, nor did I see another steal them—whatever cows

may be, and of that I have only heard report. Nay, give right and take

it before Zeus, the Son of Cronos.’

(ll. 313-326) So Hermes the shepherd and Leto’s glorious son kept

stubbornly disputing each article of their quarrel: Apollo, speaking

truly.... ((LACUNA)) ....not fairly sought to seize glorious Hermes

because of the cows; but he, the Cyllenian, tried to deceive the God of

the Silver Bow with tricks and cunning words. But when, though he had

many wiles, he found the other had as many shifts, he began to walk

across the sand, himself in front, while the Son of Zeus and Leto came

behind. Soon they came, these lovely children of Zeus, to the top of

fragrant Olympus, to their father, the Son of Cronos; for there were

the scales of judgement set for them both.

There was an assembly on snowy Olympus, and the immortals who perish

not were gathering after the hour of gold-throned Dawn.

(ll. 327-329) Then Hermes and Apollo of the Silver Bow stood at the

knees of Zeus: and Zeus who thunders on high spoke to his glorious son

and asked him:

(ll. 330-332) ‘Phoebus, whence come you driving this great spoil, a

child new born that has the look of a herald? This is a weighty matter

that is come before the council of the gods.’

(ll. 333-364) Then the lord, far-working Apollo, answered him: ‘O my

father, you shall soon hear no trifling tale though you reproach me

that I alone am fond of spoil. Here is a child, a burgling robber, whom

I found after a long journey in the hills of Cyllene: for my part I

have never seen one so pert either among the gods or all men that catch

folk unawares throughout the world. He stole away my cows from their

meadow and drove them off in the evening along the shore of the

loud-roaring sea, making straight for Pylos. There were double tracks,

and wonderful they were, such as one might marvel at, the doing of a

clever sprite; for as for the cows, the dark dust kept and showed their

footprints leading towards the flowery meadow; but he

himself—bewildering creature—crossed the sandy ground outside the path,

not on his feet nor yet on his hands; but, furnished with some other

means he trudged his way—wonder of wonders!—as though one walked on

slender oak-trees. Now while he followed the cattle across sandy

ground, all the tracks showed quite clearly in the dust; but when he

had finished the long way across the sand, presently the cows’ track

and his own could not be traced over the hard ground. But a mortal man

noticed him as he drove the wide-browed kine straight towards Pylos.

And as soon as he had shut them up quietly, and had gone home by crafty

turns and twists, he lay down in his cradle in the gloom of a dim cave,

as still as dark night, so that not even an eagle keenly gazing would

have spied him. Much he rubbed his eyes with his hands as he prepared

falsehood, and himself straightway said roundly: “I have not seen them:

I have not heard of them: no man has told me of them. I could not tell

you of them, nor win the reward of telling.”’

(ll. 365-367) When he had so spoken, Phoebus Apollo sat down. But

Hermes on his part answered and said, pointing at the Son of Cronos,

the lord of all the gods:

(ll. 368-386) ‘Zeus, my father, indeed I will speak truth to you; for I

am truthful and I cannot tell a lie. He came to our house to-day

looking for his shambling cows, as the sun was newly rising. He brought

no witnesses with him nor any of the blessed gods who had seen the

theft, but with great violence ordered me to confess, threatening much

to throw me into wide Tartarus. For he has the rich bloom of glorious

youth, while I was born but yesterday—as he too knows—nor am I like a

cattle-lifter, a sturdy fellow. Believe my tale (for you claim to be my

own father), that I did not drive his cows to my house—so may I

prosper—nor crossed the threshold: this I say truly. I reverence Helios

greatly and the other gods, and you I love and him I dread. You

yourself know that I am not guilty: and I will swear a great oath upon

it:—No! by these rich-decked porticoes of the gods. And some day I will

punish him, strong as he is, for this pitiless inquisition; but now do

you help the younger.’

(ll. 387-396) So spake the Cyllenian, the Slayer of Argus, while he

kept shooting sidelong glances and kept his swaddling-clothes upon his

arm, and did not cast them away. But Zeus laughed out loud to see his

evil-plotting child well and cunningly denying guilt about the cattle.

And he bade them both to be of one mind and search for the cattle, and

guiding Hermes to lead the way and, without mischievousness of heart,

to show the place where now he had hidden the strong cattle. Then the

Son of Cronos bowed his head: and goodly Hermes obeyed him; for the

will of Zeus who holds the aegis easily prevailed with him.

(ll. 397-404) Then the two all-glorious children of Zeus hastened both

to sandy Pylos, and reached the ford of Alpheus, and came to the fields

and the high-roofed byre where the beasts were cherished at night-time.

Now while Hermes went to the cave in the rock and began to drive out

the strong cattle, the son of Leto, looking aside, saw the cowhides on

the sheer rock. And he asked glorious Hermes at once:

(ll. 405-408) ‘How were you able, you crafty rogue, to flay two cows,

new-born and babyish as you are? For my part, I dread the strength that

will be yours: there is no need you should keep growing long,

Cyllenian, son of Maia!’

(ll. 409-414) So saying, Apollo twisted strong withes with his hands

meaning to bind Hermes with firm bands; but the bands would not hold

him, and the withes of osier fell far from him and began to grow at

once from the ground beneath their feet in that very place. And

intertwining with one another, they quickly grew and covered all the

wild-roving cattle by the will of thievish Hermes, so that Apollo was

astonished as he gazed.

(ll. 414-435) Then the strong slayer of Argus looked furtively upon the

ground with eyes flashing fire.... desiring to hide.... ((LACUNA))

....Very easily he softened the son of all-glorious Leto as he would,

stern though the Far-shooter was. He took the lyre upon his left arm

and tried each string in turn with the key, so that it sounded

awesomely at his touch. And Phoebus Apollo laughed for joy; for the

sweet throb of the marvellous music went to his heart, and a soft

longing took hold on his soul as he listened. Then the son of Maia,

harping sweetly upon his lyre, took courage and stood at the left hand

of Phoebus Apollo; and soon, while he played shrilly on his lyre, he

lifted up his voice and sang, and lovely was the sound of his voice

that followed. He sang the story of the deathless gods and of the dark

earth, how at the first they came to be, and how each one received his

portion. First among the gods he honoured Mnemosyne, mother of the

Muses, in his song; for the son of Maia was of her following. And next

the goodly son of Zeus hymned the rest of the immortals according to

their order in age, and told how each was born, mentioning all in order

as he struck the lyre upon his arm. But Apollo was seized with a

longing not to be allayed, and he opened his mouth and spoke winged

words to Hermes:

(ll. 436-462) ‘Slayer of oxen, trickster, busy one, comrade of the

feast, this song of yours is worth fifty cows, and I believe that

presently we shall settle our quarrel peacefully. But come now, tell me

this, resourceful son of Maia: has this marvellous thing been with you

from your birth, or did some god or mortal man give it you—a noble

gift—and teach you heavenly song? For wonderful is this new-uttered

sound I hear, the like of which I vow that no man nor god dwelling on

Olympus ever yet has known but you, O thievish son of Maia. What skill

is this? What song for desperate cares? What way of song? For verily

here are three things to hand all at once from which to choose,—mirth,

and love, and sweet sleep. And though I am a follower of the Olympian

Muses who love dances and the bright path of song—the full-toned chant

and ravishing thrill of flutes—yet I never cared for any of those feats

of skill at young men’s revels, as I do now for this: I am filled with

wonder, O son of Zeus, at your sweet playing. But now, since you,

though little, have such glorious skill, sit down, dear boy, and

respect the words of your elders. For now you shall have renown among

the deathless gods, you and your mother also. This I will declare to

you exactly: by this shaft of cornel wood I will surely make you a

leader renowned among the deathless gods, and fortunate, and will give

you glorious gifts and will not deceive you from first to last.’

(ll. 463-495) Then Hermes answered him with artful words: ‘You question

me carefully, O Far-worker; yet I am not jealous that you should enter

upon my art: this day you shall know it. For I seek to be friendly with

you both in thought and word. Now you well know all things in your

heart, since you sit foremost among the deathless gods, O son of Zeus,

and are goodly and strong. And wise Zeus loves you as all right is, and

has given you splendid gifts. And they say that from the utterance of

Zeus you have learned both the honours due to the gods, O Far-worker,

and oracles from Zeus, even all his ordinances. Of all these I myself

have already learned that you have great wealth. Now, you are free to

learn whatever you please; but since, as it seems, your heart is so

strongly set on playing the lyre, chant, and play upon it, and give

yourself to merriment, taking this as a gift from me, and do you, my

friend, bestow glory on me. Sing well with this clear-voiced companion

in your hands; for you are skilled in good, well-ordered utterance.

From now on bring it confidently to the rich feast and lovely dance and

glorious revel, a joy by night and by day. Whoso with wit and wisdom

enquires of it cunningly, him it teaches through its sound all manner

of things that delight the mind, being easily played with gentle

familiarities, for it abhors toilsome drudgery; but whoso in ignorance

enquires of it violently, to him it chatters mere vanity and

foolishness. But you are able to learn whatever you please. So then, I

will give you this lyre, glorious son of Zeus, while I for my part will

graze down with wild-roving cattle the pastures on hill and

horse-feeding plain: so shall the cows covered by the bulls calve

abundantly both males and females. And now there is no need for you,

bargainer though you are, to be furiously angry.’

(ll. 496-502) When Hermes had said this, he held out the lyre: and

Phoebus Apollo took it, and readily put his shining whip in Hermes’

hand, and ordained him keeper of herds. The son of Maia received it

joyfully, while the glorious son of Leto, the lord far-working Apollo,

took the lyre upon his left arm and tried each string with the key.

Awesomely it sounded at the touch of the god, while he sang sweetly to

its note.

(ll. 503-512) Afterwards they two, the all-glorious sons of Zeus turned

the cows back towards the sacred meadow, but themselves hastened back

to snowy Olympus, delighting in the lyre. Then wise Zeus was glad and

made them both friends. And Hermes loved the son of Leto continually,

even as he does now, when he had given the lyre as token to the

Far-shooter, who played it skilfully, holding it upon his arm. But for

himself Hermes found out another cunning art and made himself the pipes

whose sound is heard afar.

(ll. 513-520) Then the son of Leto said to Hermes: ‘Son of Maia, guide

and cunning one, I fear you may steal form me the lyre and my curved

bow together; for you have an office from Zeus, to establish deeds of

barter amongst men throughout the fruitful earth. Now if you would only

swear me the great oath of the gods, either by nodding your head, or by

the potent water of Styx, you would do all that can please and ease my

heart.’

(ll. 521-549) Then Maia’s son nodded his head and promised that he

would never steal anything of all the Far-shooter possessed, and would

never go near his strong house; but Apollo, son of Leto, swore to be

fellow and friend to Hermes, vowing that he would love no other among

the immortals, neither god nor man sprung from Zeus, better than

Hermes: and the Father sent forth an eagle in confirmation. And Apollo

sware also: ‘Verily I will make you only to be an omen for the

immortals and all alike, trusted and honoured by my heart. Moreover, I

will give you a splendid staff of riches and wealth: it is of gold,

with three branches, and will keep you scatheless, accomplishing every

task, whether of words or deeds that are good, which I claim to know

through the utterance of Zeus. But as for sooth-saying, noble,

heaven-born child, of which you ask, it is not lawful for you to learn

it, nor for any other of the deathless gods: only the mind of Zeus

knows that. I am pledged and have vowed and sworn a strong oath that no

other of the eternal gods save I should know the wise-hearted counsel

of Zeus. And do not you, my brother, bearer of the golden wand, bid me

tell those decrees which all-seeing Zeus intends. As for men, I will

harm one and profit another, sorely perplexing the tribes of unenviable

men. Whosoever shall come guided by the call and flight of birds of

sure omen, that man shall have advantage through my voice, and I will

not deceive him. But whoso shall trust to idly-chattering birds and

shall seek to invoke my prophetic art contrary to my will, and to

understand more than the eternal gods, I declare that he shall come on

an idle journey; yet his gifts I would take.

(ll. 550-568) ‘But I will tell you another thing, Son of all-glorious

Maia and Zeus who holds the aegis, luck-bringing genius of the gods.

There are certain holy ones, sisters born—three virgins gifted

with wings: their heads are besprinkled with white meal, and they dwell

under a ridge of Parnassus. These are teachers of divination apart from

me, the art which I practised while yet a boy following herds, though

my father paid no heed to it. From their home they fly now here, now

there, feeding on honey-comb and bringing all things to pass. And when

they are inspired through eating yellow honey, they are willing to

speak truth; but if they be deprived of the gods’ sweet food, then they

speak falsely, as they swarm in and out together. These, then, I give

you; enquire of them strictly and delight your heart: and if you should

teach any mortal so to do, often will he hear your response—if he have

good fortune. Take these, Son of Maia, and tend the wild roving, horned

oxen and horses and patient mules.’

(ll. 568a-573) So he spake. And from heaven father Zeus himself gave

confirmation to his words, and commanded that glorious Hermes should be

lord over all birds of omen and grim-eyed lions, and boars with

gleaming tusks, and over dogs and all flocks that the wide earth

nourishes, and over all sheep; also that he only should be the

appointed messenger to Hades, who, though he takes no gift, shall give

him no mean prize.

(ll. 574-578) Thus the lord Apollo showed his kindness for the Son of

Maia by all manner of friendship: and the Son of Cronos gave him grace

besides. He consorts with all mortals and immortals: a little he

profits, but continually throughout the dark night he cozens the tribes

of mortal men.

(ll. 579-580) And so, farewell, Son of Zeus and Maia; but I will

remember you and another song also.

(ll. 1-6) Muse, tell me the deeds of golden Aphrodite the Cyprian, who

stirs up sweet passion in the gods and subdues the tribes of mortal men

and birds that fly in air and all the many creatures that the dry land

rears, and all the sea: all these love the deeds of rich-crowned

Cytherea.

(ll. 7-32) Yet there are three hearts that she cannot bend nor yet

ensnare. First is the daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis, bright-eyed

Athene; for she has no pleasure in the deeds of golden Aphrodite, but

delights in wars and in the work of Ares, in strifes and battles and in

preparing famous crafts. She first taught earthly craftsmen to make

chariots of war and cars variously wrought with bronze, and she, too,

teaches tender maidens in the house and puts knowledge of goodly arts

in each one’s mind. Nor does laughter-loving Aphrodite ever tame in

love Artemis, the huntress with shafts of gold; for she loves archery

and the slaying of wild beasts in the mountains, the lyre also and

dancing and thrilling cries and shady woods and the cities of upright

men. Nor yet does the pure maiden Hestia love Aphrodite’s works. She

was the first-born child of wily Cronos and youngest too, by will

of Zeus who holds the aegis,—a queenly maid whom both Poseidon and

Apollo sought to wed. But she was wholly unwilling, nay, stubbornly

refused; and touching the head of father Zeus who holds the aegis, she,

that fair goddess, sware a great oath which has in truth been

fulfilled, that she would be a maiden all her days. So Zeus the Father

gave her an high honour instead of marriage, and she has her place in

the midst of the house and has the richest portion. In all the temples

of the gods she has a share of honour, and among all mortal men she is

chief of the goddesses.

(ll. 33-44) Of these three Aphrodite cannot bend or ensnare the hearts.

But of all others there is nothing among the blessed gods or among

mortal men that has escaped Aphrodite. Even the heart of Zeus, who

delights in thunder, is led astray by her; though he is greatest of all

and has the lot of highest majesty, she beguiles even his wise heart

whensoever she pleases, and mates him with mortal women, unknown to

Hera, his sister and his wife, the grandest far in beauty among the

deathless goddesses—most glorious is she whom wily Cronos with her

mother Rhea did beget: and Zeus, whose wisdom is everlasting, made her

his chaste and careful wife.

(ll. 45-52) But upon Aphrodite herself Zeus cast sweet desire to be

joined in love with a mortal man, to the end that, very soon, not even

she should be innocent of a mortal’s love; lest laughter-loving

Aphrodite should one day softly smile and say mockingly among all the

gods that she had joined the gods in love with mortal women who bare

sons of death to the deathless gods, and had mated the goddesses with

mortal men.

(ll. 53-74) And so he put in her heart sweet desire for Anchises who

was tending cattle at that time among the steep hills of

many-fountained Ida, and in shape was like the immortal gods.

Therefore, when laughter-loving Aphrodite saw him, she loved him, and

terribly desire seized her in her heart. She went to Cyprus, to Paphos,

where her precinct is and fragrant altar, and passed into her

sweet-smelling temple. There she went in and put to the glittering

doors, and there the Graces bathed her with heavenly oil such as blooms

upon the bodies of the eternal gods—oil divinely sweet, which she had

by her, filled with fragrance. And laughter-loving Aphrodite put on all

her rich clothes, and when she had decked herself with gold, she left

sweet-smelling Cyprus and went in haste towards Troy, swiftly

travelling high up among the clouds. So she came to many-fountained

Ida, the mother of wild creatures and went straight to the homestead

across the mountains. After her came grey wolves, fawning on her, and

grim-eyed lions, and bears, and fleet leopards, ravenous for deer: and

she was glad in heart to see them, and put desire in their breasts, so

that they all mated, two together, about the shadowy coombes.

(ll. 75-88) But she herself came to the neat-built shelters, and

him she found left quite alone in the homestead—the hero Anchises who

was comely as the gods. All the others were following the herds over

the grassy pastures, and he, left quite alone in the homestead, was

roaming hither and thither and playing thrillingly upon the lyre. And

Aphrodite, the daughter of Zeus stood before him, being like a pure

maiden in height and mien, that he should not be frightened when he

took heed of her with his eyes. Now when Anchises saw her, he marked

her well and wondered at her mien and height and shining garments. For

she was clad in a robe out-shining the brightness of fire, a splendid

robe of gold, enriched with all manner of needlework, which shimmered

like the moon over her tender breasts, a marvel to see.

Also she wore twisted brooches and shining earrings in the form of

flowers; and round her soft throat were lovely necklaces.

(ll. 91-105) And Anchises was seized with love, and said to her: ‘Hail,

lady, whoever of the blessed ones you are that are come to this house,

whether Artemis, or Leto, or golden Aphrodite, or high-born Themis, or

bright-eyed Athene. Or, maybe, you are one of the Graces come hither,

who bear the gods company and are called immortal, or else one of those

who inhabit this lovely mountain and the springs of rivers and grassy

meads. I will make you an altar upon a high peak in a far seen place,

and will sacrifice rich offerings to you at all seasons. And do you

feel kindly towards me and grant that I may become a man very eminent

among the Trojans, and give me strong offspring for the time to come.

As for my own self, let me live long and happily, seeing the light of

the sun, and come to the threshold of old age, a man prosperous among

the people.’

(ll. 106-142) Thereupon Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus answered him:

‘Anchises, most glorious of all men born on earth, know that I am no

goddess: why do you liken me to the deathless ones? Nay, I am but a

mortal, and a woman was the mother that bare me. Otreus of famous name

is my father, if so be you have heard of him, and he reigns over all

Phrygia rich in fortresses. But I know your speech well beside my own,

for a Trojan nurse brought me up at home: she took me from my dear

mother and reared me thenceforth when I was a little child. So comes

it, then, that I well know your tongue also. And now the Slayer of

Argus with the golden wand has caught me up from the dance of huntress

Artemis, her with the golden arrows. For there were many of us, nymphs

and marriageable maidens, playing together; and an innumerable

company encircled us: from these the Slayer of Argus with the golden

wand rapt me away. He carried me over many fields of mortal men and

over much land untilled and unpossessed, where savage wild-beasts roam

through shady coombes, until I thought never again to touch the

life-giving earth with my feet. And he said that I should be called the

wedded wife of Anchises, and should bear you goodly children. But when

he had told and advised me, he, the strong Slayer of Argos, went back

to the families of the deathless gods, while I am now come to you: for

unbending necessity is upon me. But I beseech you by Zeus and by your

noble parents—for no base folk could get such a son as you—take me now,

stainless and unproved in love, and show me to your father and careful

mother and to your brothers sprung from the same stock. I shall be no

ill-liking daughter for them, but a likely. Moreover, send a messenger

quickly to the swift-horsed Phrygians, to tell my father and my

sorrowing mother; and they will send you gold in plenty and woven

stuffs, many splendid gifts; take these as bride-piece. So do, and then

prepare the sweet marriage that is honourable in the eyes of men and

deathless gods.’

(ll. 143-144) When she had so spoken, the goddess put sweet desire in

his heart. And Anchises was seized with love, so that he opened his

mouth and said:

(ll. 145-154) ‘If you are a mortal and a woman was the mother who bare

you, and Otreus of famous name is your father as you say, and if you

are come here by the will of Hermes the immortal Guide, and are to be

called my wife always, then neither god nor mortal man shall here

restrain me till I have lain with you in love right now; no, not even

if far-shooting Apollo himself should launch grievous shafts from his

silver bow. Willingly would I go down into the house of Hades, O lady,

beautiful as the goddesses, once I had gone up to your bed.’

(ll. 155-167) So speaking, he caught her by the hand. And

laughter-loving Aphrodite, with face turned away and lovely eyes

downcast, crept to the well-spread couch which was already laid with

soft coverings for the hero; and upon it lay skins of bears and

deep-roaring lions which he himself had slain in the high mountains.

And when they had gone up upon the well-fitted bed, first Anchises took

off her bright jewelry of pins and twisted brooches and earrings and

necklaces, and loosed her girdle and stripped off her bright garments

and laid them down upon a silver-studded seat. Then by the will of the

gods and destiny he lay with her, a mortal man with an immortal

goddess, not clearly knowing what he did.

(ll. 168-176) But at the time when the herdsmen drive their oxen and

hardy sheep back to the fold from the flowery pastures, even then

Aphrodite poured soft sleep upon Anchises, but herself put on her rich

raiment. And when the bright goddess had fully clothed herself, she

stood by the couch, and her head reached to the well-hewn roof-tree;

from her cheeks shone unearthly beauty such as belongs to rich-crowned

Cytherea. Then she aroused him from sleep and opened her mouth and

said:

(ll. 177-179) ‘Up, son of Dardanus!—why sleep you so heavily?—and

consider whether I look as I did when first you saw me with your eyes.’

(ll. 180-184) So she spake. And he awoke in a moment and obeyed her.

But when he saw the neck and lovely eyes of Aphrodite, he was afraid

and turned his eyes aside another way, hiding his comely face with his

cloak. Then he uttered winged words and entreated her:

(ll. 185-190) ‘So soon as ever I saw you with my eyes, goddess, I knew

that you were divine; but you did not tell me truly. Yet by Zeus who

holds the aegis I beseech you, leave me not to lead a palsied life

among men, but have pity on me; for he who lies with a deathless

goddess is no hale man afterwards.’

(ll. 191-201) Then Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus answered him:

‘Anchises, most glorious of mortal men, take courage and be not too

fearful in your heart. You need fear no harm from me nor from the other

blessed ones, for you are dear to the gods: and you shall have a dear

son who shall reign among the Trojans, and children’s children after

him, springing up continually. His name shall be Aeneas, because I

felt awful grief in that I laid me in the bed of mortal man: yet are

those of your race always the most like to gods of all mortal men in

beauty and in stature.

(ll. 202-217) ‘Verily wise Zeus carried off golden-haired Ganymedes

because of his beauty, to be amongst the Deathless Ones and pour drink

for the gods in the house of Zeus—a wonder to see—honoured by all the

immortals as he draws the red nectar from the golden bowl. But grief

that could not be soothed filled the heart of Tros; for he knew not

whither the heaven-sent whirlwind had caught up his dear son, so that

he mourned him always, unceasingly, until Zeus pitied him and gave him

high-stepping horses such as carry the immortals as recompense for his

son. These he gave him as a gift. And at the command of Zeus, the

Guide, the slayer of Argus, told him all, and how his son would be

deathless and unageing, even as the gods. So when Tros heard these

tidings from Zeus, he no longer kept mourning but rejoiced in his heart

and rode joyfully with his storm-footed horses.

(ll. 218-238) ‘So also golden-throned Eos rapt away Tithonus who was of

your race and like the deathless gods. And she went to ask the

dark-clouded Son of Cronos that he should be deathless and live

eternally; and Zeus bowed his head to her prayer and fulfilled her

desire. Too simply was queenly Eos: she thought not in her heart to ask

youth for him and to strip him of the slough of deadly age. So while he

enjoyed the sweet flower of life he lived rapturously with

golden-throned Eos, the early-born, by the streams of Ocean, at the

ends of the earth; but when the first grey hairs began to ripple from

his comely head and noble chin, queenly Eos kept away from his bed,

though she cherished him in her house and nourished him with food and

ambrosia and gave him rich clothing. But when loathsome old age pressed

full upon him, and he could not move nor lift his limbs, this seemed to

her in her heart the best counsel: she laid him in a room and put to

the shining doors. There he babbles endlessly, and no more has strength

at all, such as once he had in his supple limbs.

(ll. 239-246) ‘I would not have you be deathless among the deathless

gods and live continually after such sort. Yet if you could live on

such as now you are in look and in form, and be called my husband,

sorrow would not then enfold my careful heart. But, as it is, harsh

old age will soon enshroud you—ruthless age which stands someday

at the side of every man, deadly, wearying, dreaded even by the gods.

(ll. 247-290) ‘And now because of you I shall have great shame among

the deathless gods henceforth, continually. For until now they feared

my jibes and the wiles by which, or soon or late, I mated all the

immortals with mortal women, making them all subject to my will. But

now my mouth shall no more have this power among the gods; for very

great has been my madness, my miserable and dreadful madness, and I

went astray out of my mind who have gotten a child beneath my girdle,

mating with a mortal man. As for the child, as soon as he sees the

light of the sun, the deep-breasted mountain Nymphs who inhabit this

great and holy mountain shall bring him up. They rank neither with

mortals nor with immortals: long indeed do they live, eating heavenly

food and treading the lovely dance among the immortals, and with them

the Sileni and the sharp-eyed Slayer of Argus mate in the depths of

pleasant caves; but at their birth pines or high-topped oaks spring up

with them upon the fruitful earth, beautiful, flourishing trees,

towering high upon the lofty mountains (and men call them holy places

of the immortals, and never mortal lops them with the axe); but when

the fate of death is near at hand, first those lovely trees wither

where they stand, and the bark shrivels away about them, and the twigs

fall down, and at last the life of the Nymph and of the tree leave the

light of the sun together. These Nymphs shall keep my son with them and

rear him, and as soon as he is come to lovely boyhood, the goddesses

will bring him here to you and show you your child. But, that I may

tell you all that I have in mind, I will come here again towards the

fifth year and bring you my son. So soon as ever you have seen him—a

scion to delight the eyes—you will rejoice in beholding him; for he

shall be most godlike: then bring him at once to windy Ilion. And if

any mortal man ask you who got your dear son beneath her girdle,

remember to tell him as I bid you: say he is the offspring of one of

the flower-like Nymphs who inhabit this forest-clad hill. But if you

tell all and foolishly boast that you lay with rich-crowned Aphrodite,

Zeus will smite you in his anger with a smoking thunderbolt. Now I have

told you all. Take heed: refrain and name me not, but have regard to

the anger of the gods.’

(l. 291) When the goddess had so spoken, she soared up to windy heaven.

(ll. 292-293) Hail, goddess, queen of well-builded Cyprus! With you

have I begun; now I will turn me to another hymn.

(ll. 1-18) I will sing of stately Aphrodite, gold-crowned and

beautiful, whose dominion is the walled cities of all sea-set Cyprus.

There the moist breath of the western wind wafted her over the waves of

the loud-moaning sea in soft foam, and there the gold-filleted Hours

welcomed her joyously. They clothed her with heavenly garments: on her

head they put a fine, well-wrought crown of gold, and in her pierced

ears they hung ornaments of orichalc and precious gold, and adorned her

with golden necklaces over her soft neck and snow-white breasts, jewels

which the gold-filleted Hours wear themselves whenever they go to their

father’s house to join the lovely dances of the gods. And when they had

fully decked her, they brought her to the gods, who welcomed her when

they saw her, giving her their hands. Each one of them prayed that he

might lead her home to be his wedded wife, so greatly were they amazed

at the beauty of violet-crowned Cytherea.

(ll. 19-21) Hail, sweetly-winning, coy-eyed goddess! Grant that I may

gain the victory in this contest, and order you my song. And now I will

remember you and another song also.

(ll. 1-16) I will tell of Dionysus, the son of glorious Semele, how he

appeared on a jutting headland by the shore of the fruitless sea,

seeming like a stripling in the first flush of manhood: his rich, dark

hair was waving about him, and on his strong shoulders he wore a purple

robe. Presently there came swiftly over the sparkling sea Tyrsenian

pirates on a well-decked ship—a miserable doom led them on. When

they saw him they made signs to one another and sprang out quickly, and

seizing him straightway, put him on board their ship exultingly; for

they thought him the son of heaven-nurtured kings. They sought to bind

him with rude bonds, but the bonds would not hold him, and the withes

fell far away from his hands and feet: and he sat with a smile in his

dark eyes. Then the helmsman understood all and cried out at once to

his fellows and said:

(ll. 17-24) ‘Madmen! What god is this whom you have taken and bind,

strong that he is? Not even the well-built ship can carry him. Surely

this is either Zeus or Apollo who has the silver bow, or Poseidon, for

he looks not like mortal men but like the gods who dwell on Olympus.

Come, then, let us set him free upon the dark shore at once: do not lay

hands on him, lest he grow angry and stir up dangerous winds and heavy

squalls.’

(ll. 25-31) So said he: but the master chid him with taunting words:

‘Madman, mark the wind and help hoist sail on the ship: catch all the

sheets. As for this fellow we men will see to him: I reckon he is bound

for Egypt or for Cyprus or to the Hyperboreans or further still. But in

the end he will speak out and tell us his friends and all his wealth

and his brothers, now that providence has thrown him in our way.’

(ll. 32-54) When he had said this, he had mast and sail hoisted on the

ship, and the wind filled the sail and the crew hauled taut the sheets

on either side. But soon strange things were seen among them. First of

all sweet, fragrant wine ran streaming throughout all the black ship

and a heavenly smell arose, so that all the seamen were seized with

amazement when they saw it. And all at once a vine spread out both ways

along the top of the sail with many clusters hanging down from it, and

a dark ivy-plant twined about the mast, blossoming with flowers, and

with rich berries growing on it; and all the thole-pins were covered

with garlands. When the pirates saw all this, then at last they bade

the helmsman to put the ship to land. But the god changed into a

dreadful lion there on the ship, in the bows, and roared loudly:

amidships also he showed his wonders and created a shaggy bear which

stood up ravening, while on the forepeak was the lion glaring fiercely

with scowling brows. And so the sailors fled into the stern and crowded

bemused about the right-minded helmsman, until suddenly the lion sprang

upon the master and seized him; and when the sailors saw it they leapt

out overboard one and all into the bright sea, escaping from a

miserable fate, and were changed into dolphins. But on the helmsman

Dionysus had mercy and held him back and made him altogether happy,

saying to him:

(ll. 55-57) ‘Take courage, good...; you have found favour with my

heart. I am loud-crying Dionysus whom Cadmus’ daughter Semele bare of

union with Zeus.’

(ll. 58-59) Hail, child of fair-faced Semele! He who forgets you can in

no wise order sweet song.

(ll. 1-17) Ares, exceeding in strength, chariot-rider, golden-helmed,

doughty in heart, shield-bearer, Saviour of cities, harnessed in

bronze, strong of arm, unwearying, mighty with the spear, O defence of

Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of Themis, stern governor of

the rebellious, leader of righteous men, sceptred King of manliness,

who whirl your fiery sphere among the planets in their sevenfold

courses through the aether wherein your blazing steeds ever bear you

above the third firmament of heaven; hear me, helper of men, giver of

dauntless youth! Shed down a kindly ray from above upon my life, and

strength of war, that I may be able to drive away bitter cowardice from

my head and crush down the deceitful impulses of my soul. Restrain also

the keen fury of my heart which provokes me to tread the ways of

blood-curdling strife. Rather, O blessed one, give you me boldness to

abide within the harmless laws of peace, avoiding strife and hatred and

the violent fiends of death.

(ll. 1-6) Muse, sing of Artemis, sister of the Far-shooter, the virgin

who delights in arrows, who was fostered with Apollo. She waters her

horses from Meles deep in reeds, and swiftly drives her all-golden

chariot through Smyrna to vine-clad Claros where Apollo, god of the

silver bow, sits waiting for the far-shooting goddess who delights in

arrows.

(ll. 7-9) And so hail to you, Artemis, in my song and to all goddesses

as well. Of you first I sing and with you I begin; now that I have

begun with you, I will turn to another song.

(ll. 1-3) Of Cytherea, born in Cyprus, I will sing. She gives kindly

gifts to men: smiles are ever on her lovely face, and lovely is the

brightness that plays over it.

(ll. 4-6) Hail, goddess, queen of well-built Salamis and sea-girt

Cyprus; grant me a cheerful song. And now I will remember you and

another song also.

(ll. 1-4) Of Pallas Athene, guardian of the city, I begin to sing.

Dread is she, and with Ares she loves deeds of war, the sack of cities

and the shouting and the battle. It is she who saves the people as they

go out to war and come back.

(l. 5) Hail, goddess, and give us good fortune with happiness!

(ll. 1-5) I sing of golden-throned Hera whom Rhea bare. Queen of the

immortals is she, surpassing all in beauty: she is the sister and the

wife of loud-thundering Zeus,—the glorious one whom all the blessed

throughout high Olympus reverence and honour even as Zeus who delights

in thunder.

(ll. 1-2) I begin to sing of rich-haired Demeter, awful goddess, of her

and of her daughter lovely Persephone.

(l. 3) Hail, goddess! Keep this city safe, and govern my song.

(ll. 1-5) I prithee, clear-voiced Muse, daughter of mighty Zeus, sing

of the mother of all gods and men. She is well-pleased with the sound

of rattles and of timbrels, with the voice of flutes and the outcry of

wolves and bright-eyed lions, with echoing hills and wooded coombes.

(l. 6) And so hail to you in my song and to all goddesses as well!

(ll. 1-8) I will sing of Heracles, the son of Zeus and much the

mightiest of men on earth. Alcmena bare him in Thebes, the city of

lovely dances, when the dark-clouded Son of Cronos had lain with her.

Once he used to wander over unmeasured tracts of land and sea at the

bidding of King Eurystheus, and himself did many deeds of violence and

endured many; but now he lives happily in the glorious home of snowy

Olympus, and has neat-ankled Hebe for his wife.

(l. 9) Hail, lord, son of Zeus! Give me success and prosperity.

(ll. 1-4) I begin to sing of Asclepius, son of Apollo and healer of

sicknesses. In the Dotian plain fair Coronis, daughter of King

Phlegyas, bare him, a great joy to men, a soother of cruel pangs.

(l. 5) And so hail to you, lord: in my song I make my prayer to thee!

(ll. 1-4) Sing, clear-voiced Muse, of Castor and Polydeuces, the

Tyndaridae, who sprang from Olympian Zeus. Beneath the heights of

Taygetus stately Leda bare them, when the dark-clouded Son of Cronos

had privily bent her to his will.

(l. 5) Hail, children of Tyndareus, riders upon swift horses!

(ll. 1-9) I sing of Cyllenian Hermes, the Slayer of Argus, lord of

Cyllene and Arcadia rich in flocks, luck-bringing messenger of the

deathless gods. He was born of Maia, the daughter of Atlas, when she

had made with Zeus,—a shy goddess she. Ever she avoided the throng of

the blessed gods and lived in a shadowy cave, and there the Son of

Cronos used to lie with the rich-tressed nymph at dead of night, while

white-armed Hera lay bound in sweet sleep: and neither deathless god

nor mortal man knew it.

(ll. 10-11) And so hail to you, Son of Zeus and Maia; with you I have

begun: now I will turn to another song!

(l. 12) Hail, Hermes, giver of grace, guide, and giver of good things!

(ll. 1-26) Muse, tell me about Pan, the dear son of Hermes, with his

goat’s feet and two horns—a lover of merry noise. Through wooded glades

he wanders with dancing nymphs who foot it on some sheer cliff’s edge,

calling upon Pan, the shepherd-god, long-haired, unkempt. He has every

snowy crest and the mountain peaks and rocky crests for his domain;

hither and thither he goes through the close thickets, now lured by

soft streams, and now he presses on amongst towering crags and climbs

up to the highest peak that overlooks the flocks. Often he courses

through the glistening high mountains, and often on the shouldered

hills he speeds along slaying wild beasts, this keen-eyed god. Only at

evening, as he returns from the chase, he sounds his note, playing

sweet and low on his pipes of reed: not even she could excel him in

melody—that bird who in flower-laden spring pouring forth her lament

utters honey-voiced song amid the leaves. At that hour the clear-voiced

nymphs are with him and move with nimble feet, singing by some spring

of dark water, while Echo wails about the mountain-top, and the god on

this side or on that of the choirs, or at times sidling into the midst,

plies it nimbly with his feet. On his back he wears a spotted

lynx-pelt, and he delights in high-pitched songs in a soft meadow where

crocuses and sweet-smelling hyacinths bloom at random in the grass.

(ll. 27-47) They sing of the blessed gods and high Olympus and choose

to tell of such an one as luck-bringing Hermes above the rest, how he

is the swift messenger of all the gods, and how he came to Arcadia, the

land of many springs and mother of flocks, there where his sacred place

is as god of Cyllene. For there, though a god, he used to tend

curly-fleeced sheep in the service of a mortal man, because there fell

on him and waxed strong melting desire to wed the rich-tressed daughter

of Dryops, and there he brought about the merry marriage. And in the

house she bare Hermes a dear son who from his birth was marvellous to

look upon, with goat’s feet and two horns—a noisy, merry-laughing

child. But when the nurse saw his uncouth face and full beard, she was

afraid and sprang up and fled and left the child. Then luck-bringing

Hermes received him and took him in his arms: very glad in his heart

was the god. And he went quickly to the abodes of the deathless gods,

carrying the son wrapped in warm skins of mountain hares, and set him

down beside Zeus and showed him to the rest of the gods. Then all the

immortals were glad in heart and Bacchie Dionysus in especial; and they

called the boy Pan because he delighted all their hearts.

(ll. 48-49) And so hail to you, lord! I seek your favour with a song.

And now I will remember you and another song also.

(ll. 1-7) Sing, clear-voiced Muses, of Hephaestus famed for inventions.

With bright-eyed Athene he taught men glorious gifts throughout the

world,—men who before used to dwell in caves in the mountains like wild

beasts. But now that they have learned crafts through Hephaestus the

famed worker, easily they live a peaceful life in their own houses the

whole year round.

(l. 8) Be gracious, Hephaestus, and grant me success and prosperity!

(ll. 1-4) Phoebus, of you even the swan sings with clear voice to the

beating of his wings, as he alights upon the bank by the eddying river

Peneus; and of you the sweet-tongued minstrel, holding his high-pitched

lyre, always sings both first and last.

(l. 5) And so hail to you, lord! I seek your favour with my song.

(ll. 1-5) I begin to sing about Poseidon, the great god, mover of the

earth and fruitless sea, god of the deep who is also lord of Helicon

and wide Aegae. A two-fold office the gods allotted you, O Shaker of

the Earth, to be a tamer of horses and a saviour of ships!

(ll. 6-7) Hail, Poseidon, Holder of the Earth, dark-haired lord! O

blessed one, be kindly in heart and help those who voyage in ships!

(ll. 1-3) I will sing of Zeus, chiefest among the gods and greatest,

all-seeing, the lord of all, the fulfiller who whispers words of wisdom

to Themis as she sits leaning towards him.

(l. 4) Be gracious, all-seeing Son of Cronos, most excellent and great!

(ll. 1-5) Hestia, you who tend the holy house of the lord Apollo, the

Far-shooter at goodly Pytho, with soft oil dripping ever from your

locks, come now into this house, come, having one mind with Zeus the

all-wise—draw near, and withal bestow grace upon my song.

(ll. 1-5) I will begin with the Muses and Apollo and Zeus. For it is

through the Muses and Apollo that there are singers upon the earth and

players upon the lyre; but kings are from Zeus. Happy is he whom the

Muses love: sweet flows speech from his lips.

(ll. 6-7) Hail, children of Zeus! Give honour to my song! And now I

will remember you and another song also.

(ll. 1-9) I begin to sing of ivy-crowned Dionysus, the loud-crying god,

splendid son of Zeus and glorious Semele. The rich-haired Nymphs

received him in their bosoms from the lord his father and fostered and

nurtured him carefully in the dells of Nysa, where by the will of his

father he grew up in a sweet-smelling cave, being reckoned among the

immortals. But when the goddesses had brought him up, a god oft hymned,

then began he to wander continually through the woody coombes, thickly

wreathed with ivy and laurel. And the Nymphs followed in his train with

him for their leader; and the boundless forest was filled with their

outcry.

(ll. 10-13) And so hail to you, Dionysus, god of abundant clusters!

Grant that we may come again rejoicing to this season, and from that

season onwards for many a year.

(ll. 1-20) I sing of Artemis, whose shafts are of gold, who cheers on

the hounds, the pure maiden, shooter of stags, who delights in archery,

own sister to Apollo with the golden sword. Over the shadowy hills and

windy peaks she draws her golden bow, rejoicing in the chase, and sends

out grievous shafts. The tops of the high mountains tremble and the

tangled wood echoes awesomely with the outcry of beasts: earthquakes

and the sea also where fishes shoal. But the goddess with a bold heart

turns every way destroying the race of wild beasts: and when she is

satisfied and has cheered her heart, this huntress who delights in

arrows slackens her supple bow and goes to the great house of her dear

brother Phoebus Apollo, to the rich land of Delphi, there to order the

lovely dance of the Muses and Graces. There she hangs up her curved bow

and her arrows, and heads and leads the dances, gracefully arrayed,

while all they utter their heavenly voice, singing how neat-ankled Leto

bare children supreme among the immortals both in thought and in deed.

(ll. 21-22) Hail to you, children of Zeus and rich-haired Leto! And now

I will remember you and another song also.

(ll. 1-16) I begin to sing of Pallas Athene, the glorious goddess,

bright-eyed, inventive, unbending of heart, pure virgin, saviour of

cities, courageous, Tritogeneia. From his awful head wise Zeus himself

bare her arrayed in warlike arms of flashing gold, and awe seized all

the gods as they gazed. But Athena sprang quickly from the immortal

head and stood before Zeus who holds the aegis, shaking a sharp spear:

great Olympus began to reel horribly at the might of the bright-eyed

goddess, and earth round about cried fearfully, and the sea was moved

and tossed with dark waves, while foam burst forth suddenly: the bright

Son of Hyperion stopped his swift-footed horses a long while, until the

maiden Pallas Athene had stripped the heavenly armour from her immortal

shoulders. And wise Zeus was glad.

(ll. 17-18) And so hail to you, daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis!

Now I will remember you and another song as well.

(ll. 1-6) Hestia, in the high dwellings of all, both deathless gods and

men who walk on earth, you have gained an everlasting abode and highest

honour: glorious is your portion and your right. For without you

mortals hold no banquet,—where one does not duly pour sweet wine in

offering to Hestia both first and last.

(ll. 7-10) And you, slayer of Argus, Son of Zeus and Maia,

messenger of the blessed gods, bearer of the golden rod, giver of good,

be favourable and help us, you and Hestia, the worshipful and dear.

Come and dwell in this glorious house in friendship together; for you

two, well knowing the noble actions of men, aid on their wisdom and

their strength.

(ll. 12-13) Hail, Daughter of Cronos, and you also, Hermes, bearer of

the golden rod! Now I will remember you and another song also.

(ll. 1-16) I will sing of well-founded Earth, mother of all, eldest of

all beings. She feeds all creatures that are in the world, all that go

upon the goodly land, and all that are in the paths of the seas, and

all that fly: all these are fed of her store. Through you, O queen, men

are blessed in their children and blessed in their harvests, and to you

it belongs to give means of life to mortal men and to take it away.

Happy is the man whom you delight to honour! He has all things

abundantly: his fruitful land is laden with corn, his pastures are

covered with cattle, and his house is filled with good things. Such men

rule orderly in their cities of fair women: great riches and wealth

follow them: their sons exult with ever-fresh delight, and their

daughters in flower-laden bands play and skip merrily over the soft

flowers of the field. Thus is it with those whom you honour O holy

goddess, bountiful spirit.

(ll. 17-19) Hail, Mother of the gods, wife of starry Heaven; freely

bestow upon me for this my song substance that cheers the heart! And

now I will remember you and another song also.

(ll. 1-16) And now, O Muse Calliope, daughter of Zeus, begin to

sing of glowing Helios whom mild-eyed Euryphaessa, the far-shining one,

bare to the Son of Earth and starry Heaven. For Hyperion wedded

glorious Euryphaessa, his own sister, who bare him lovely children,

rosy-armed Eos and rich-tressed Selene and tireless Helios who is like

the deathless gods. As he rides in his chariot, he shines upon men and

deathless gods, and piercingly he gazes with his eyes from his golden

helmet. Bright rays beam dazzlingly from him, and his bright locks

streaming from the temples of his head gracefully enclose his far-seen

face: a rich, fine-spun garment glows upon his body and flutters in the

wind: and stallions carry him. Then, when he has stayed his

golden-yoked chariot and horses, he rests there upon the highest point

of heaven, until he marvellously drives them down again through heaven

to Ocean.

(ll. 17-19) Hail to you, lord! Freely bestow on me substance that

cheers the heart. And now that I have begun with you, I will celebrate

the race of mortal men half-divine whose deeds the Muses have showed to

mankind.

(ll. 1-13) And next, sweet voiced Muses, daughters of Zeus,

well-skilled in song, tell of the long-winged Moon. From her

immortal head a radiance is shown from heaven and embraces earth; and

great is the beauty that ariseth from her shining light. The air, unlit

before, glows with the light of her golden crown, and her rays beam

clear, whensoever bright Selene having bathed her lovely body in the

waters of Ocean, and donned her far-gleaming, shining team, drives on

her long-maned horses at full speed, at eventime in the mid-month: then

her great orbit is full and then her beams shine brightest as she

increases. So she is a sure token and a sign to mortal men.

(ll. 14-16) Once the Son of Cronos was joined with her in love; and she

conceived and bare a daughter Pandia, exceeding lovely amongst the

deathless gods.

(ll. 17-20) Hail, white-armed goddess, bright Selene, mild,

bright-tressed queen! And now I will leave you and sing the glories of

men half-divine, whose deeds minstrels, the servants of the Muses,

celebrate with lovely lips.

(ll. 1-17) Bright-eyed Muses, tell of the Tyndaridae, the Sons of Zeus,

glorious children of neat-ankled Leda, Castor the tamer of horses, and

blameless Polydeuces. When Leda had lain with the dark-clouded Son of

Cronos, she bare them beneath the peak of the great hill

Taygetus,—children who are delivers of men on earth and of swift-going

ships when stormy gales rage over the ruthless sea. Then the shipmen

call upon the sons of great Zeus with vows of white lambs, going to the

forepart of the prow; but the strong wind and the waves of the sea lay

the ship under water, until suddenly these two are seen darting through

the air on tawny wings. Forthwith they allay the blasts of the cruel

winds and still the waves upon the surface of the white sea: fair signs

are they and deliverance from toil. And when the shipmen see them they

are glad and have rest from their pain and labour.

(ll. 18-19) Hail, Tyndaridae, riders upon swift horses! Now I will

remember you and another song also.

HOMER’S