The Homeric Hymns
Translated by Christopher Kelk
Leda and the Swan
Johann Heinrich (German, 1751-1829) - The National Gallery of Art
© Copyright 2020 Christopher Kelk, All Rights Reserved.
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Table of Contents
- I - TO DIONYSUS
- II - TO DEMETER
- III - TO DELIAN APOLLO
- [TO PYTHIAN APOLLO]
- IV - TO HERMES
- V - TO APHRODITE
- VI - TO APHRODITE
- VII - TO DIONYSUS
- VIII - TO ARES
- IX - TO ARTEMIS
- X - TO APHRODITE
- XI - TO ATHENE
- XII - TO HERA
- XIII - TO DEMETER
- XIV - TO THE MOTHER OF THE GODS
- XV - TO HERACLES THE LION-HEARTED
- XVI - TO ASCLEPIUS
- XVII - TO THE DIOSCURI
- XVIII - TO HERMES
- XIX - TO PAN
- XX - TO HEPHAESTUS
- XXI - TO APOLLO
- XXII - TO POSEIDON
- XXIII - TO THE MOST HIGH SON OF CRONUS
- XXIV - TO HESTIA
- XXV - TO THE MUSES AND APOLLO
- XXVI - TO DIONYSUS
- XXVII - TO ARTEMIS
- XXVIII - TO ATHENA
- XXIX - TO HESTIA
- XXX - TO EARTH THE MOTHER OF ALL
- XXXI - TO HELIOS
- XXXII - TO SELENE
- XXXIII - TO THE DIOSCURI
I - TO DIONYSUS
Some say that you were born to Semele
In Dracanum, some say in blustery
Icarus, god-born and sewn in Zeus’s thigh;
Some say in Naxos; some that it was by
Deep-eddying Alpheus, begot by Zeus
The thunder-lover; other men produce
The tale that it was Thebes. All fabrication!
The father of the gods and every nation
Arranged your birth far from each human eye
And white-armed Hera. There’s a mountain, high 10
And thronged by woods, called Nysa, far away
In Phoenice, where Egypt’s waters play.
“And many offerings to Semele
Men will put up inside her shrine. Since three
Is sacred, when each three-year span is done,
They’ll ever yield you hecatombs.” The son
Of Cronus bent his dark brows as he said
These words, while the divine locks on his head
Flowed down and great Olympus reeled. And thus
Wise Zeus confirmed this with a nod. To us 20
Be favourable, o Insewn One, who
Inspire your frenzied women. For of you
We sing from start to finish; one may find
Those who forget you cannot call to mind
One holy song. Farewell to you, Insewn,
O Dionysus, and not you alone –
Farewell, too, to your mother Semele,
Who’s known to all mankind as Thyone.
II - TO DEMETER
Fair-haired Demeter, holy deity,
I’ll praise – her trim-legged daughter, also, she
Who was by Aïdoneus seduced, for her
He had of Zeus, far-seeing, Thunderer.
Far from Demeter of the golden sword
And glorious fruits, upon the soft greensward
With Ocean’s well-endowed young girls she played,
And flowers, which the will of Zeus had made
The earth to grow to satisfy Hades
And snare the bloomlike girl, she plucked, and these 10
Were roses, croci, lovely violets and
The iris, hyacinth, narcissus (grand
And radiant flower), such a sight to see
For gods and men. Its deep extremity
Produced a hundred blooms. Its fragrant smell
Caused all the heavens to laugh – the earth as well
And the salt-sea’s swell. The maiden’s breathless joy
Made her reach out to grasp the lovely toy
When Earth with her broad pathways split asunder
Upon that Nysian plain and then from under 20
The ground, the lord who goes by many a name,
The Host of Legions, son of Cronos, came
With his immortal horses, leaping far.
Against her will he caught her in his car
Of gold as she yelled out. With a shrill cry
She called upon her father, the most high
And glorious son of Cronos. Not one tree
That bears rich olives, not one deity
Nor man could catch her voice; just two were there
To hear her – tender Hecate, whose hair 30
Shone bright, Persaeus’ daughter, as she lay
Within her cave, and Helios, Lord of Day,
Hyperion’s bright son, as loud she cried
To Zeus, her father. But he sat aside
From all the gods within his temple where
So many pray, receiving his sweet share
Of mortal offerings. And so that son
Of Cronos, host and lord of many a one,
Who goes by many a name, was carrying
Away the girl by leave of Zeus the king 40
On his immortal chariot, though she
Was most reluctant. While she still could see
The earth, the starry heavens and the shine
Of sunlight and the strongly-flowing brine
Where fishes shoal, the goddess hoped to view
Her darling mother and the great gods who
Live endlessly – this calmed her mighty soul.
The heights of all the mountains and the whole
Sea-depths with her immortal voice rang out,
And then her queenly mother heard her shout: 50
Acute pain seized her heart; her dear hands tore
Her headdress; and the dusky cloak she wore
She cast off, speeding bird-like over sea
And land to find her child. But nobody,
No god nor man, would tell her what was done,
And of all of the birds of omen none
Would say the truth. She wandered through the land,
The queenly Deo, torches in her hand,
For nine days, forsaking in her misery
Sweet nectar and ambrosia, while she 60
Denied to bathe. But when the tenth dawn broke,
Then Hecate, with a torch, met her and spoke
These words: “Queenly Demeter, who bring us
The seasons, you who are so generous
With rich gifts, say what man or deity
Has carried off your child Persephone
And caused you pain? I heard her cry but who
He was I did not see. I’ll tell to you
In short all that I know.” Thus Hecate
Addressed her. Rich-haired Rhea’s progeny 70
Made no reply but, with her torches, flew
With her until they came to Helios, who
Watched over gods and men and there she stood
Before his horses, telling him: “You should,
Helios, respect me as a deity
If ever I have given gaiety
To you in word or deed. My fair, sweet child
I heard as one in someone’s thrall – a wild
And thrilling sound! But nothing did I see.
But by your beams through the extremity 80
Of both the land and sea and radiant air
You look down. Have you seen her anywhere?
My dear child! Who has seized her violently -
What god or man? – and made escape?” Thus she
Spoke. Then Hyperion’s son gave his reply:
“Demeter, child of rich-haired Rhea, I
Will tell the truth to you. Exceedingly
I honour you and grieve your misery
Over your slim-legged daughter. None but Zeus
Cloud-Gatherer’s to blame. He dared to loose 90
The maid to Hades so that she might be
His buxom wife – yes, his own brother. He
Snatched her away down to the misty gloom
As in his chariot she wailed her doom.
But, goddess, cease your loud lament. For it
Is wrong to show vain anger. Not unfit
To be a son-in-law to you, her mother,
Being of the same stock and your own brother,
Is Aïdoneus , Lord of Many Men
Among the deathless deities; again, 100
When honours were first measured out, he gained
A third part of renown and has remained
Lord of his fellow-dwellers there.” That said,
She called her steeds. They heard her voice and sped
Along like long-winged birds. More suffering
Assailed her. Angered at the Dark-Cloud King
Of Gods she shunned their gatherings on high
Olympus and to towns and fields that lie
On earth she went, inflicting injury
A long time on herself. On scrutiny 110
No man, no, nor yet one deep-bosomed dame
Knew her for who she was until she came
To wise Celeus, who then was sovereign
Of sweet Eleusis. She sat, troubled in
Her heart, on the roadside by the Maids’ Spring
Whence folk drew water. Overshadowing
This dark lace was an olive shrubbery.
Just like an ancient crone she seemed to be,
Cut off from childbirth and the offerings
That garland-loving Aphrodite brings, 120
Like those who tend the kingly progeny –
Those kings who weal out justice lawfully –
Or like the stewards in the halls that sound
In echoes. There Celeus’s daughters found
Her as she carried water which they drew
So easily so they might take it to
Their father’s house in bronze urns. Like divine
Goddesses, there were four of them, in fine
And blooming youth – they were Callidice
And lovely Demo and Cleisidice 130
And then Callithoë, the eldest one.
They, too – for it is not so easily done
For any man to know a deity –
Failed to detect her and spoke wingedly:
“Who are you, ancient one? What is your race?
Why have you left your city and won’t face
These houses? Dames like you, and younger, too,
Live here in dark halls and would welcome you
In word and deed.” They spoke and in reply
The queen of all the goddesses said, “I 140
Greet you, dear children, whosoever you be
Of womankind. I’ll tell my history
To you, because the answer is no shame.
My queenly mother gave to me the name
Of Doso, and I came across the sea,
The broad, broad sea, from Crete unwillingly,
Snatched off by pirates. After that they came
Swiftly to Thoricus, where many a dame,
And many a man, amassed upon the strand
And by the ropes began upon the sand 150
A meal. Wanting no food, I slipped away
Sadly across that dark land – I’d not stay
With my imperious masters that they might
Not carry me, unpaid for, in their flight
And sell me off. Thus in my wandering
I landed here – I do not know a thing
About this place or who you folk may be.
I pray, though, each Olympian deity
Will grant you mates, and children, too, the prayer
Of every parent. Maidens, do not spare 160
Your pity for me. Please, then, make it clear,
Dear children, who the folk are who live here,
The men and women, that I cheerfully
May work for them with chores befitting me,
A crone – tending a babe or tidying
Or in his fine room’s recess readying
The master’s bed or giving my advice
To the women.” Thus she spoke and in a trice
The fairest maid, unwed Callidice,
Replied, “Mother, in our adversity 170
We bear the gifts that gods deal out to men –
They’re stronger than we are. I’ll tell you, then,
The names of all the men in power here,
Who’ve earned our honour. I will make it clear
Who by their wisdom and their true decrees
Rule us and guard our city walls. Now these
Are wise Triptolemus and Dioclus,
Polyxeinus and splendid Eumolpus
And our brave father. All have wives who run
Each house, and on first sight there’s not a one 180
Who would dishonour you and turn you out.
They’d welcome you because there is no doubt
That you are like a goddess. Stay here, though,
If you prefer, and all of us will go
Back to our house and tell our mother, who
Is buxom Metaneira, all that you
Have said. Thus she will bid you to repair
To us and not seek sanctuary elsewhere.
In our fine house, she has a late-born son,
Much prayed for and embraced – her only one. 190
Nurse him till he’s a youth and you will find
That you’re the envy of all womankind.
Such gifts shall you receive!” That’s what she said,
And at her words the goddess bowed her head.
They filled their shining buckets and withdrew,
Rejoicing. In a short time they came to
Their father’s house and told their mother all
That they had seen and heard. She bade them call
The stranger swiftly so that they might pay
Her boundless wages. Then they went away, 200
Like deer or calves with a sufficiency
Of pasture, who then bound across the lea.
Those maidens down the hollow pathway sped,
Holding their lovely garments’ folds ahead
Of them. Just like a crocus flower, their hair
Streamed round their shoulders as they went to where
They’d left the good goddess by the wayside,
And there they found her. Then with her they hied
To their dear father’s house. She walked behind,
A veil upon her head, grieved in her mind. 210
Around her slender feet her dark-blue dress
Fluttered about. Quite soon, with the goddess,
They came to heaven-bred Celeus’ residence.
They went along the portico and thence
They found their queenly mother sitting near
A pillar of the close-fit roof, her dear
Young son within her arms. To her they sped.
The goddess on the threshold stood, her head
Reaching the roof. Her heavenly radiance
Filled up the doorway. Awe and reverence 220
And pale fear took their mother at this sight.
She got up then so that Demeter might
Sit on her couch, and yet she, who supplies
The seasons and gives perfect gifts, her eyes,
Her lovely eyes, cast down, would not sit there
Upon that golden couch. With tender care
Iambe brought a jointed stool and cast
A silver fleece upon it. Then, at last,
The goddess sat and held a veil before
Her face. A long time there she sat, heart-sore, 230
Unsmiling, never speaking, not by sign
Or word addressing anyone. No wine,
No food she took but, pining wistfully
For her deep-bosomed daughter, there sat she.
Then careful Iambe moved the holy queen
With many a jest, smiling and laughing, keen
To lift her heart – as she would cheer her up
Thereafter. Metaneira filled a cup
Of sweet wine for her, but she put it off.
It was not right, she said, for her to quaff 240
Red wine. Water and meal was her request,
Mixed with soft mint. She fulfilled her behest.
The great queen drank, for she observed that rite.
Then spoke up, out of those within her sight,
Well-girdled Metaneira: “Hail to you,
Lady, for I believe it to be true
Your stock is not ignoble – dignity
And grace shine in your eyes, which you may see
In justice-dealing kings. What the gods send
We bear perforce – beneath the yoke we bend 250
Our necks. Bring up my child, a god-sent boy,
Late-born, past hope, but a much-prayed-for joy.
Nurse him till he’s a youth and you will find
You’ll be the envy of all womankind.
Such gifts shall you receive!” Came the reply
From wreathed Demeter: “Greetings, too, say I,
God bless you. I will take him willingly
Just as you bid me and you’ll never see
The Cutter or witchcraft bring him distress
By reason of his nurse’s heedlessness - 260
The Woodcutter’s not stronger than a spell
I have and there’s a safeguard I know well
Against foul witchcraft.” Then she took the boy
Unto her perfect bosom and with joy
His mother’s heart was filled. Thus the fine son
Of wise Celeus was nursed – Demophoőn,
Whom the well-girdled Metaneira bore –
Right there. He grew like an immortal, for
He neither ate nor suckled at the teat.
Each day rich-wreathed Demeter breathed so sweet 270
Upon him at her breast and smeared his skin
With ambrosia as though he were the kin
Of gods. She hid him in the fire, though,
Each night (his loving parents did not know)
Just like a brand. They were amazed that he
Grew past his age – godlike he seemed to be.
Deathless and ageless she’d have made the lad
If the well-girdled Metaneira had
Not in her fragrant chamber watched by night
In heedlessness. Lamenting in her fright, 280
She smote her hips, afraid for him, and these
Swift words she spoke, bewailing her unease:
“Demophoőn, the stranger buries you
Deep in the fire, affording me much rue.”
Bright-crowned goddess Demeter heard. In spleen
She took the darling child, the boy who’d been
Born in the palace to Metaneira who
Had lost all hope of one more child, and threw
Him from the fire to the ground. Then she
To well-girt Metaneira instantly 290
Said, “You dull mortals cannot see the lot
Awaiting you, both good and bad. For what
Is done’s past cure. Be witness the gods’ plight,
The endless river Styx, your dear son might
Through me have been immortal all his days
And ageless and been given endless praise.
But now death and a mortal’s destiny
He can’t avoid, yet he will always be
Much honoured for he lay upon my knees
And slept within my arms. And yet, when he’s 300
Full-grown, year after year the progeny
Of the Eleusinians continually
Will fight each other in dread strife. Know, then,
That I’m Demeter, prized by mortal men,
A cause of help and joy to them. And so,
Let there be built a temple and, below,
A shrine beneath the city and sheer wall
Above Callirrhous and on a tall
Hillside. I’ll teach my rites that I may be
Won over by your honest purity.” 310
The goddess changed her looks as this she said,
No longer old – around her, beauty spread
And from her robe wafted a fine bouquet.
Demeter’s body shone from far away
In a divine light, and now golden hair
Spread from her shoulders, and, like lightning, there
Was brightness in that well-built house. Then she
Went from the palace and immediately
Metaneira’s knees went weak; she made no sound
For a long time; her child upon the ground, 320
Her late-born child, she overlooked. Nearby
Her sisters heard the infant’s pitiful cry
And from their well-spread beds without delay
They sprang. While one took up the child and lay
Him at her breast, another set about
To light a fire and a third set out
On soft feet for their mother so she may
Come from her fragrant chamber. And now they
Gathered around the struggling little boy
And bathed him, hugging him with loving joy. 330
He was not solaced, though – the skilfulness
Of those handmaids and nurses was far less.
They prayed to the glorious goddess through the night,
Shaking with fear, and, at the dawn’s first light
They told the mighty Celeus all, as she,
Well-wreathed Demeter, told them to. Then he
Summoned his people to the meeting-place,
That countless throng, and bade them then to grace
Rich-tressed Demeter, with a temple there,
A splendid one, an altar, also, where 340
The hillock rose. They heard and started to
Do as he ordered, and the infant grew
Just like a god. When done and at their rest
They all went home. Demeter. golden-tressed,
Apart from all the gods sat as she pined
For her deep-bosomed child. Mortals would find
\Upon the fecund earth a cruel year
For the well-wreathed Demeter kept each ear
From sprouting. Many a curving plough in vain
Was drawn by oxen. White barley would rain 350
To no avail upon the ground. So she
Would have destroyed with cruel scarcity
All of mankind and would have robbed as well
Of gifts and sacrifices those who dwell
High on Olympus did Lord Zeus not see
What she had done. He sent immediately
Gold-winged Iris to the richly-tressed
Lovely Demeter. That was his behest,
And she obeyed dark-clouded Zeus, the son
Of Cronus – swiftly to her did she run. 360
She came then to Eleusis, rich in scent.
She found dark-cloaked Demeter and she went
Into the temple where she’d come to rest
And said with winged words:” It’s the behest
Of Father Zeus, who’s ever wise, that you
Should join the holy tribe of deities who
Are everlasting. Don’t let this decree
Go unobeyed. Still she refused to be
Persuaded. Zeus then gave one more command –
The blest, eternal gods should see her and, 370
Each one after the other, on they came
And offered fair gifts, calling out her name.
They promised any rights she might prefer
Among them, not prevailing, though, with her,
So angry was she. She spurned stubbornly
All that they’d said. She’d never go, said she,
To well-scented Olympus nor let rise
Fruit from the ground till she with her own eyes
Saw her fair child. Zeus the Loud-Thunderer,
Who sees all, sent the executioner 380
Of Argus with his wand of gold to Hell
That he with coaxing words might put a spell
On Hades to send back into the light
Holy Persephone from murky night
And let her mother see her and let go
Her anger. Hermes was persuaded so
To do and left Olympus speedily
Down to the places on the earth, then he
Found Hades on a couch at home beside
His apprehensive and reluctant bride, 390
Much yearning for her mother, who yet mused
On her dread project far away, abused
By the blest gods. Staunch Hermes, standing near,
Said: “Dark-haired Hades, sovereign down here
Among the dead, I’m given a command
By Father Zeus to take out of this land
The fair Persephone up to the place
Where the gods live so that she, face-to-face,
May meet her mother that she may let go
Her rage at the gods; a dread scenario 400
Demeter had in mind – she planned to bring
An end to weakly men by burying
Seed underground, the honours that they brought
To the immortals thus reduced to nought.
She kept her dreadful anger nor would she
Mix with the gods but solitarily
Kept to her fragrant temple, dwelling in
Rocky Eleusis.” With a joyless grin
The ruler of the dead then acquiesced
To Father Zeus’ command and thus addressed 410
The wise Persephone immediately:
“To your dark-robed mother, Persephone,
Go now. Think kindly of me. Do not brood
Or be in an exceedingly sad mood.
Among the gods I’ll be a fitting spouse,
For I am Zeus’s brother. In this house
Over all living things you’ll have command
And with the highest honours will you stand
Among the gods; always those who do ill
Shall be chastised, those who refuse to still 420
Your power with sacrifices, reverently
Performing rites and giving gifts.” Thus he
Addressed her. Filled with joy then was the shrewd
Persephone, and in that happy mood
Leapt up. But Hades gave her secretly
A pomegranate seed that she’d beside
Her dark-robed mother not always abide.
Aïdoneus, Ruler of Many Men,
Attached his steeds that never perish then 430
To his gold chariot. She got on, and strong
Hermes took reins and whip and drove headlong
Those horses, for they flew on readily.
They managed their long journey speedily.
No sea, no river, not one mountaintop,
No grassy glen was seen to put a stop
To their advance as they cleft the wide air
Above them. Thus he brought those steeds to where
Well-wreathed Demeter stayed, halting before
Her fragrant temple. Seeing them she tore 440
Outside, as on a wooded mountainside
A Maenad tears; Persephone then spied
Demeter’s sweet eyes, then leapt down and sped
To fall upon her neck. Yet in her head,
While holding her, Demeter suddenly
Fancied some trick and trembled violently,
Ceasing her kisses. “Child,“ she cried, “did you
Not eat when down below? Come, tell me true.
Hide nothing that we both may truly know.
If not, then from that loathsome place below 450
With Cronus’ son, dark-clouded Zeus, and me
You’ll come and dwell and will respected be
By all the gods. But if you ate, back there
Below the earth you’ll hold a one-third’s share
Of every year, the other two with me
And all the other gods. But when we see
Earth blooming with the fragrant flowers of spring,
Up from that gloom you’ll rise, a wondrous thing
To gods and men. What trick did Hades play
Upon you when he spirited you away?” 460
Then fair Persephone replied to her:
“Mother, I’ll tell you all. The messenger,
Aid-giving, swift Hermes was sent to me
By Zeus, my sire, and each divinity
To bring me back to earth from Erebus
That you might feast your eyes on me and thus
Cease your dread wrath against the gods. Why, I
At once leapt up in joy. But by and by
He placed inside my mouth clandestinely
A sweet pomegranate seed, thus forcing me 470
To taste it. I will tell you, blow by blow,
How Hades took me to the depths below
Through Zeus’s clever plan. In a fair lea
We were cavorting – there was Leucippe,
Phaino, Electra, Ianthe, Melite,
Rhodeia, Iache, Calirrhoë,
Melobosis, Tyche and Acaste,
Chryseis, Ianeira, Admete.
Also there were gathering blooms with me 480
Rhodope, Plouto, Calypso the Fair,
Styx, also, and Urania were there,
The beauty Galaxaura, Pallas, too,
Who rouses battles, and Admetus, who
Delights in arrows. We were gathering
Sweet blooms - soft crocuses, all mingling
With iris, hyacinth, rose, lily – o
Such sights! – narcissus, too (these flowers grow
On the wide earth like crocuses). With glee
I picked them all. The earth, though, suddenly 490
Parted beneath me. Up leapt the strong lord,
The Host of Many, bundled me aboard
His golden car and then against my will
Took me beneath the earth. My cry was shrill.
All this is true, although it hurts to say
These words.” Then with one heart all through the day
They cheered each other’s souls with many a kiss,
Which brought relief as back and forth some bliss
They gave and took. Then bright-eyed Hecate
Approached them both, embracing frequently 500
Demeter’s holy child and from then on
Queen Hecate was her companion
And minister. Then Zeus, Loud-Thunderer,
All-Seeing, sent to them a messenger,
The well-tressed Rhea, so that she might bring
Dark-robed Demeter to the gathering
Of gods, and honours of her choice he swore
That they would give , agreeing furthermore
That one-third of the circling year she’d live
In gloom and darkness while the rest he’d give 510
To her that with her mother she might stay
And the other gods. She did not disobey
The bidding of Lord Zeus but speedily
Flew down from high Olympus’ promontory
On to the plain of Rharus, whose terrain
Was once corn-rich but now produced no grain,
Quite leafless, for the white fruit was concealed
By trim-ankled Demeter. Time revealed,
However, long and waving ears of grain
When spring burst out and on the ground they’d gain 520
Rich furrows full of corn. With others bound
In sheaves already, there, upon this ground
She landed first out of the desert air,
And they rejoiced to see each other there.
The rich-tressed Rhea said: “Zeus calls to you -
Loud -Thunderer, All-Seeing. Come, child, do,
And join the other gods. Zeus also swore
Whatever rites you wish and, furthermore,
That one-third of the circling year you’ll live
In gloom and darkness while the rest he’ll give 530
To you that with your mother you may stay
And all the gods. That’s what she heard her say
To her and after Zeus’s words were said,
In token of his oath he bowed his head.
Obey, child, don’t be wrathful endlessly
With Zeus of the Dark Clouds, but instantly
Increase the grain that offers life to men.”
That’s what she said. Well-wreathed Demeter then
Obeyed and on the rich lands caused their fruits
To spring and with all kinds of blooms and shoots 540
The wide earth groaned. She showed Triptolemus
And Diocles, horse-driver, Eumolpus
The mighty and Celeus, who rules his nation,
Those justice-dealing kings, the operation
Of all her rites and taught her mysteries
(None may transgress or learn or utter these,
For great awe for the gods restrains one’s voice).
Those who have seen these mysteries rejoice.
No such bliss comes to those who take no part
In them, however, once they must depart 550
Into the gloom below. When all was taught
To them by the divine goddess, they sought
Olympus and the other gods. There they,
Those holy and revered goddesses, stay
With Zeus the Thunderer. Happy is he
Whom they both freely love. Immediately
To Zeus’ great house they sent the god Plutus,
Who gives to mortals opulence. To us,
O queen of sweet Eleusis and the isle
Of Paros and the rock-strewn Antron, smile, 560
Gift-giver, season-bringer, Deo, fair
Persephone as well, and for my air
Grant me delightful substance. You I’ll tell
Of in my song – another song as well.
III - TO DELIAN APOLLO
Apollo, the Far-Shooter, I’ll recall,
Whom all gods tremble at as through the hall
Of Zeus he goes, and from their seats they spring
As he draws near, his bright bow lengthening.
Leto alone by Thunderer Zeus will stay,
Unstring his bow and put his darts away.
From his broad frame she takes the archery
In hand and on a golden hanger she
Drapes it against a pillar in the halls
Where Zeus, her father, lives, and then she falls 10
To guiding him to sit. Then Father Zeus
Greets his dear son and gives him nectar-juice
In a gold cup. The other gods then place
Him on a seat there. Full of queenly grace,
Leto rejoices in her son’s great might
And skill in archery. Blest one, delight
In both your glorious children – Artemis
The huntress and the Lord Apollo, this
In rocky Delos, in Ortygia that.
You bore Apollo as you rested at 20
The lengthy Cynthian hill, hard by a tree
Of palm at Inopus’ streams. How shall I be
Your bard when you’re so fit in every way
To be extolled? For every form of lay
Is yours, on isles and on the rocky mainland where
Calves graze. All mountain-peaks high in the air
And lofty headlands, streams that to the sea
Flow out, shores, ports, all give you jollity.
Shall I sing of how Leto gave you birth,
A source of joy to every man on earth, 30
As she took rest upon that rocky isle
Of Delos on Mt. Cynthus. All this while
Dark waves on either side drive to the strand,
Pressed by shrill winds, whence you assumed command
Over all men. To Crete and Athens town,
Aegina and Euboea whose renown
Is in her ships, Aegae, Peiresiae
And Peparethos, with the sea nearby,
Athos and Pelion’s towering heights, Samos,
Ida’s dark hills, Phocaea and Scyros, 40
Autocane’s high slope, Imbros, so fair,
Scorched Lemnos, wealthy Lesbos (who lives there
But Macar, son of Aeolus?), and Chios,
The wealthiest of the islands, and Claros,
Which gleams, and craggy Mimas, Corycos
With her high hills and water-fed Samos,
Aesagea’s steep slope and Mycale
With her sheer heights, Miletos, Cos, where be
The Meropoi, steep Cnidos, Carpathos
That’s racked by winds, and Paros and Naxos 50
And rocky Rhenaea – thus to and fro,
Heavy with the Far-Shooter, did Leto
Wander to see if one would house her son.
They trembled, though, in fear and not a one –
No, not the richest - would take him. At last
Queen Leto to the isle of Delos passed
And asked in winged words: “If you will take
My son, Phoebus Apollo, and will make
A rich shrine for him, Delos, you’ll find out
None else will touch you; though I have no doubt 60
You won’t be rich in oxen or in sheep
Or harvest wine, nor will your earth be deep
In plants, yet if a temple should stand here
For the Far-Shooter, men from far and near
Shall bring you hecatombs and you shall smell
Their constant savour and those folk who dwell
On you shall be fed by an alien hand,
For truly you are not a fecund land.”
That’s what she said, and Delos in delight
Answered: “Famed daughter of that man of might, 70
Coeus, I’ll take your son, for it is true
Men don’t speak highly of me. But through you
I’ll be renowned. What’s said, though, I confess
I fear – that he’ll be full of haughtiness
And lord it over all the gods and men
Upon the fruitful earth. I’m fearful, then,
That he, as soon as you have given birth,
Because I have a hard and rocky earth,
Will scorn and stamp me down into the sea
And the great ocean everlastingly 80
Will surge above me, and then he will go
To somewhere else that pleases him, and so
Will make his shrine and thickets. As for me,
For many-footed creatures of the sea
And black seals I shall be their domicile,
Quite undisturbed, because I am an isle
That lacks folk. But, goddess, if you dare swear
A solemn oath, he’ll build on me a fair
Temple, an oracle for men, he then
May build his shrines and groves for other men 90
Elsewhere, for he’ll be much renowned.” That’s how
She answered. Then a solemn, godly vow
Made Leto: “Hear this, Earth and broad, broad Sky
And Styx’s dropping streams below (for I
Now swear the mightiest oath that there can be
Among the gods) – a fragrant sanctuary
Shall Phoebus have here, and you will have fame
Above all folk.” To the oath’s end she came.
At the Far-Shooter’s birth great ecstasy
Struck Delos. In unwonted misery 100
Did Leto groan nine days and nights to bear
Apollo. All the goddesses were there
Who were the chiefest – Rhea, Dione,
Ichnaea, Themis and Amphitrite,
Who groans aloud – yes, every goddess, all
Save white-armed Hera, who sat in the hall
Of Zeus, Cloud-Gatherer. Only one goddess,
She of sore childbirth, knew not the distress
Of Leto, for on high Olympus she
Sat under gold clouds, by the subtlety 110
Of white-armed Hera tricked. She kept her there
Through envy – well-tressed Leto was to bear
A great and faultless son. The goddess, though,
Sent Iris from this well-set island so
She might bring Eilithyia, promising
A massive necklace bound with many a string
Of golden threads, nine cubits long, and they
Bade Iris move Eilithyia away
From white-armed Hera lest she should persuade
Her back. Then Iris, swift as winds, who’d paid 120
Attention to her, ran and soon the space
Between was covered and she reached the place
On high Olympus where the gods reside.
Immediately she bade to come outside
The goddess of travail and, wingedly,
Her words told her what each divinity,
Each goddess, bade her, and in her great heart
She was persuaded and saw them depart
Like shy doves. She of Sore Delivery
Reached Delos, when Leto in agony 130
Began to give birth, hankering to bear
Her son. She leant against a palm-tree there
And knelt upon the soft grass, and the ground
Rejoiced beneath her. Phoebus, with a bound,
Now saw the light. The goddesses all cried
Aloud. Great Phoebus, you were purified
With pleasing water, and then you were wrapped
In a fine, new-made garment and then strapped
In a gold band. Gold-bladed Phoebus, though,
Was never to be suckled by Leto; 140
Ambrosia and nectar for the boy
Thetis poured out; Leto was filled with joy
That she had borne a mighty archer-lad.
But, Phoebus, once that heavenly food you’d had,
No golden bands or cords kept you in thrall –
No longer struggling, you loosed them all.
Then to the goddesses immediately
He spoke: ‘The lyre and the bow by me
Shall be esteemed. To men I shall declare
Zeus’s unfailing will.” Then here and there 150
The long-haired Phoebus, the Far-Shooter, went
Upon the wide earth, and astonishment
Struck all the goddesses. All Delos shone
With gold from that time, as we see upon
A mountain-top wild blooms. Far-Shooter, Lord,
You walked on craggy Cynthus or abroad
You wandered in the islands. Wooded brush
And shrines you have a-plenty. Streams that gush
To sea, high crags and lofty mountains, too –
All these are dear to you. But, Phoebus, you 160
Most joy in Delos, for across the seas
Long-robed Ionians come with obsequies
To you with their shy wives and children. They
With boxing, dancing, singing make you gay
Each time they gather. You might well believe
Them ageless and godlike should you perceive
Them then. You’d see their graces and you’d stare
At them and their well-girded wives and their
Swift ships and massive wealth. There is, beside,
A wondrous thing that never will subside - 170
The girls of Delos, maidens who attend
To the Far-Shooter; praise to him they send,
And then to Leto and to Artemis,
She who delights in arrows; after this
They sing of their forebears and fascinate
The tribes of men, and they can imitate
The tongues of all men and their clattering speech.
Their sweet songs are so close to truth that each
Would say that he was singing. Phoebus, you
With Artemis protect us, and adieu 180
You maidens, and remember me when some
Outsider who has suffered much should come
And ask, “O maidens, of those who come here,
Who sings most sweetly and gives the most cheer
To you?” With one voice, answer, “He is blind
And dwells in rocky Chios. You will find
His songs will ever be supreme, and I
Shall carry his renown wherever lie
Well-settled towns I visit, and they, too,
Will credit what I say, for it is true. 190
And all my praises never will be done
For the Far-Shooter, rich-tressed Leto’s son.
[TO PYTHIAN APOLLO]
Lycia and lovely Maeonia, o lord,
And the delightful town on the seaboard,
Miletus – these are yours. But you hold sway
Yourself on sea-girt Delos. But his way
To rocky Pytho famous Phoebus made,
Queen Leto’s son, and on his lyre played,
In holy, scented garments clothed, and when
His lyre felt the golden plectrum, then 200
The sound was sweet indeed. Them, swift as thought,
He went up to Olympus, where he sought
Zeus and the other gods. Immediately
The deathless gods bore only melody
And song in mind. Their voices answering
Each other, all the Muses sweetly sing
Of the unending gifts divinities
Enjoy and of all mortals’ miseries
At the gods’ hands – they’re witless, hapless, they
Cannot cheat death nor can they find a way 210
To dodge old age. The Graces, with their hair
So richly-coiffed, the cheerful Seasons there
Danced with Harmonia and with Hebe
And Aphrodite, Zeus’s progeny,
Holding each other’s wrists. Among them, one
Not mean nor small but tall to look upon
And lovely, sang – Apollo’s sister, she
Who joys in arrows. In this company
Were also sporting Hermes, keen of eye,
And Ares, while Apollo, stepping high 220
And fine, played on his lyre. All around
His radiance shone, his gleaming feet would bound,
His close-weave vest aglow. Felicity
Filled gold-tressed Leto and wise Zeus to see
Among the gods their dear son as he played
The lyre. How, then, shall I, for one who’s made
So apt in theme for song, sing of you? Well,
Shall I sing of the lover? Shall I tell
Of when you wooed the daughter of Azan
When you had by your side that godlike man, 230
Ioschys, whose father was Elatius,
The horseman, or the wife of Leucippus,
Or Leucippus himself, or Phorbas who
Was Triops’ son – he on his chariot, you
On foot (although he did not lack the art
Of Triops). Shall I sing how at the start
Throughout the earth you wandered all around
That you might set some consecrated ground,
An oracle for men? First from on high
You sought Pieria, and you passed by 240
Sandy Lectus, Enienae, then went through
The land of the Perrhaebi, and then you
Came to Iolcus and then placed your feet
Upon Cenaeum, famous for its fleet
Of ships, set in Euboea. Then you stood
On the Lelantine plain – it was not good,
You thought, though, for a shrine and groves. Phoebus,
Far-Shooter, then you crossed the Euripus,
Climbed the green, holy hills to Mycalessus
And then on to the grasses of Teumessus 250
And wood-clad Thebe, for that holy spot
Had yet no mortals nor yet had it got
Pathways across its grain-filled plain. Then you
Came to Orchestus where a bright grove grew
In honour of Poseidon. It was there
That a new-broken colt, compelled to bear
The trim car at its back, can convalesce.
The charioteer is skilful – nonetheless
He leaps down to the ground; the empty car
The horses rattle, guideless as they are. 260
If in the woody grove the horses split
The car, the men tend to them but tilt it
And leave it there. The rite was ever so.
They pray to the shrine’s lord; the chariot, though,
Falls to the god’s lot. You went further still,
Far-Shooter, coming to the meadow’s rill
Of Cephissus, whose water, sweetly flowing,
Pours forth from Lilaea. You crossed it, going
Past many-towered Ocalea, you who
Works from a long way off, and then came to 270
The grassy Haliartus. Then your aim
Was going to Telphusa, and this same
Seemed sweetly fit for shrine and grove. He went
Close to her, saying: “It is my intent
To build a glorious temple here to be
An oracle for all mortality,
Telphusa. Perfect hecatombs they’ll bear
And bring to me, all those who have a care
To seek an oracle, those who reside
In rich Peloponnesus, those who bide 280
In Europe and upon the isles, and I
Will give to all honest advice in my
Rich temple.” Speaking thus, Apollo laid
All the foundations out and these he made
Both wide and very long. But when she’d seen
All this, Telphusa’s heart was full of spleen.
She said: “A word, Far-Worker, in your ear,
Since a fair temple you plan to build here,
An oracle for men who’ll bring to you
Their perfect hecatombs. Now listen, do, 290
And lay it to you heart – the trampling
Of rapid horses and mules watering
Here at my sacred spring will irk you. Men
Will rather wish to see fine chariots then
And stamping rapid horses than to see
Your massive shrine and the great quantity
Of treasures in it. Hear, then, what I say –
You are much mightier than I – I pray,
At Crisa build your temple, just below
The glades that lie in Parnassus; there no 300
Bright chariots will clash nor any steed
Near your fine altar at a rapid speed.
No, glorious tribes of mortal men will leave
Gifts to you as ‘Hail-Healer’; you’ll receive
Rich sacrifices which will please you well
From those who round about these regions dwell.
Thus she got the Far-Shooter to agree
That she should have renown there, and not he.
Further you went, Apollo, coming then
To where the Phlegyae dwell, presumptuous men, 310
By the Cephisian lake in a fair glade,
Taking no note of Zeus. You quickly made
Your way to Crisa then, which lies below
The mountain of Parnassus, white with snow,
A foothill facing west – above, a bluff
Hangs over it, beneath, a valley, rough
And hollow. Lord Phoebus Apollo planned
To build his lovely temple on this land.
He said: “I’ll build my lovely temple here,
An oracle for men, who will come near 320
With perfect hecatombs, those who reside
In rich Peloponnesus or abide
In Europe and upon the isles, and I
Will give to all honest advice in my
Rich temple.” Speaking thus, Apollo laid
All the foundations out and these he made
Both wide and very long. Trephonius
And Agamedes, sons of Erginus,
Dear to the gods, laid down a pediment
Of stone on them, and countless different 330
Tribes built the shrine with polished stones to be
Sung evermore. In this vicinity
Was a sweet spring, where with his mighty bow
The lord Apollo, son of Zeus, laid low
The bloated, great she-dragon who wrought deep
Distress upon the men and their lean sheep –
A bloody torment. She of the gold throne,
Hera, once gave her fierce, fell Typhaon,
Whom she brought up to be a plague to men.
Hera had borne him, being angry then 340
With Father Zeus when he bore in his head
Glorious Athena. Queenly Hera said
In anger to the gods who had amassed:
“Hear me! Cloud-Gathering Father Zeus has cast
Dishonour on me whom he made his wife,
His faithful wife. For he has given life
To the grey-eyed Athena, far from me
(She is the paramount divinity).
My son Hephaestus, though, is frail and lame
Among the gods, which causes me great shame. 350
I picked him up and into the wide sea
I cast the lad. But Nereus’ progeny,
Silver-shod Thetis, took him in her care
With all her sisters. Oh, if only there
Had been some other service she had done
For the blest gods. Oh, wretched, crafty one,
What will you think up now? How could you bear
Grey-eyed Athena all alone? How dare
You do it? Could not I? For after all
The gods who live on Mount Olympus call 360
Me Zeus’s wife. Watch out in case I hatch
Some trick against you that will be a match
To yours. In fact I will! Yes, I’ll devise
To bear a child who in Olympian eyes
Will top them all. Nor will I shame our bond
Of holy wedlock. I’ll consort, beyond
Our house, with all the gods. I will not lie
With you.” She spoke and from the gods on high
She went in anger. Then she smote the land,
Did cow-eyed Hera, with the flat of her hand 370
And prayed: “Earth, Heaven, Titan gods as well,
Who in great Tartarus beneath us dwell
Which spawns both men and gods, listen to me.
Grant me a child, apart from Zeus, and see
He’s no less great than Zeus. In fact. consent
That he’ll be greater still to the extent
All-seeing Zeus tops Cronus.” At that word
She smote the earth with her strong hand and stirred
Life-giving Earth, and this filled her with joy
For she believed that she would bear that boy. 380
For one year wise Zeus’ nightly company
She did not seek nor sit, as formerly,
On her carved chair where for her mate she made
Fine plans. No, cow-eyed queenly Hera stayed
Within her temples where so many pray,
Enjoying sacrifices. When each day
And month was over, as the year rolled round,
The seasons now approaching, then she found
She’d borne no mortal nor a god, oh no,
But dreadful, cruel Typhaon, a woe 390
To mortals. Then she gave immediately
This evil to another evil. She
Received it, and he plagued so many men.
Whoever met the dragoness, why, then
He met his doom until the mighty bow
Of the far-shooting Phoebus laid her low.
Gasping for breath, she lay in agony
Upon the earth and writhed about. And she
Let out an awful noise. It filled the air
As in that wood she twisted here and there. 400
Then, breathing out the blood of life, she died.
Phoebus Apollo swaggeringly cried:
“Rot there upon the fecund earth. No more
Will you harm man, who feeds upon the store
The earth provides for them, and hither they’ll
Bring perfect hecatombs. To no avail
Against fell death now will Typhoeus be
Nor the ill-famed Chimaera. We shall see
Black Earth and shimmering Hyperion
Cause you to rot.” Thus he boasted. She was gone 410
Into the dark. Then Helios’ burning eye
Caused her to rot right there, and that is why
They call the place Pytho, whose lord they name
Pythian Apollo, since the piercing flame
Of Helios caused the beast to rot right there.
And then it was that Phoebus was aware
That the sweet spring had duped him. Seeing red,
He then went to Telphusa and he said:
“You did not plan, Telphusa, through deceit
To keep this lovely place and pour forth sweet 420
Waters. To me, not you alone, will cling
Renown.” He spoke and pushed a showering
Of rocks on her and hid her streams, and then
He built an altar in a wooded glen
Hard by the clear stream. All the people there
Offer to ‘the Telphusian’ a prayer
(For thus they call their lord) since he abased
Holy Telphusa’s streams. And now he faced
The problem of electing priests to aid
His rites in rocky Pytho. While he made 430
These plans, he saw upon the wine-dark sea
A swift ship with a goodly company
Of Cretans out of Minyan Knossos (these
Perform rites to their master whose decrees
They promulgate – whatever Phoebus, Lord
Apollo, he who bears a golden sword,
Below Parnassus’ dells gives out when he
Replies to them out of the laurel-tree).
To sandy Pylos they were sailing then
In their black ship to trade with Pylian men. 440
Phoebus Apollo met them then, pouncing
On their swift ship and lay, a loathsome thing
Just like a dolphin. No-one knew this fish
Was Lord Apollo. No, it was their wish
To throw it back. He made the black ship shiver
On every side – the timbers were aquiver.
They sat there in the vessel silently
In fear, nor did they set the topsail free
In their black, hollow ship; their sails they let
Alone in that dark-prowed ship. Once they’d set 450
It firm with oxhide ropes, they sailed away,
Borne by a swift South Wind behind. First they
Passed Malea, then skimmed the Spartan strand
To Taenarum, sea-wreathed, in the land
Of Helios, a friend to men, where graze
Lord Helios’s thick-fleeced sheep always
In a sweet land. They wished to dock and check
And see if that great marvel stayed on deck
Or leapt into the fish-filled swelling wave.
The well-constructed ship would not behave, 460
However, under its helm but skimmed straight past
Rich Peloponnese, and, aided by the blast
Of winds, Apollo steered her easily.
She held her course and came to Arene
And lovely Argyphea and Thryon,
The ford of River Alpheus, then on
To well-built Aepy, sandy Pylos, too,
Past Crumi, Chalcis, Dyme, and straight through
To lovely Elis, where the Epei reign.
She made for Pheras, helped across the main 470
By Zeus’s blasts. They spied Mt. Ithaca’s height
Beneath the clouds, and then came into sight
Dulichium, Same, wooded Zacynthus.
When they had passed all Peloponnesus,
Crise’s great gulf, that cuts off all that land,
Appeared. Then Zeus ordained a mighty and
Clear West Wind, which from heaven boisterously
Gusted that with all speed across the sea
The ship might run. So they set sail once more
Back to the rising dawn, and at the fore 480
Was Lord Apollo. Crisa, then, they reached,
Seen from afar, the land of vines. They beached
Their ship upon the sands. And then their lord,
Phoebus Apollo, the Far-Worker, soared
From off the ship, just like a star that’s seen
At noon and many flames with glittering sheen
Flew from him up to heaven. To the shrine
He went through priceless tripods, and the shine
He caused among the flames was great, as he
Showed off his arrows, and a radiancy 490
Filled Crisa. This deed raised a hullabaloo
From all the wives – and well-bound daughters, too –
Of Crisa, for they all were much afraid.
Then, swift as thought, back to the ship he made
His winged way. A youth, robust and strong,
He seemed to be, his hair cascading long
On his broad shoulders. He said wingedly:
“Strangers, who are you? Whence across the sea
Have you sailed? Are you traders? Do you roam,
Perhaps, at random, pirates on the foam, 500
Risking your lives and bringing injury
To foreign folk? Why in timidity
Do you rest here, not venturing to go
Ashore nor on your black vessel to stow
Your gear? That is industrious people’s way
When after their black ship is anchored, they,
Fatigued with labour, yearn for food.” This said,
He gave them courage, and the man who led
The Cretans answered: “Since you seem to be,
In shape and kind, not of mortality, 510
But an immortal god, to you all hail!
May you be blest and may the gods not fail
To give you cheer. That I may understand
Completely, tell me truthfully: What land,
What country is this? Who lives here? For we,
With other things in mind, crossed the great sea
From Crete to Pylos (we’re a Cretan race).
In all unwillingness we reached this place
On quite another journey, and for home
We long. Some god brought us across the foam. 520
Apollo, the Far-Worker, then replied:
“Stranger, though in past time did you reside
In wooded Cnossos, you shall not go back
To your dear city; you will ever lack
Your fair house, wife and children. Instead, here
You’ll keep my rich shrine which is held most dear
By many men. I am the progeny
Of Zeus – Apollo. Over the wide sea
I’ve brought you, wishing you no harm. You’ll know
The plans of all the gods, who’ll make it so 530
That you’ll be honoured always every day.
Come now and with all speed do as I say.
First loose the sheets and lower the sail, then tow
Your speedy ship up onto land; unstow
Your goods and all your fair ship’s gear, then raise
An altar on the beach and offer praise
Around a fire and offer white meal to me
All round the altar. From the hazy sea
I leapt upon your swift ship, and therefore
Pray to me as Delphinius; furthermore 540
The altar shall be called ‘Delphinius’, too,
Forever and ‘Offering a splendid view’.
By your swift, dark ship cook a meal, and then
Make offering to the Olympian gods, and when
You no more crave sweet food, then come with me
And sing the hymn ‘Hail, Healer’ till we see
Where my rich temple stands to be your care.”
They harkened and obeyed him. Then and there
They loosed the sheets and lowered the sail; that done,
They let the mast down by the ropes upon 550
The mast-head. Then they landed on the strand
And drew their swift ship high upon the sand
And fixed stays under her. And then they made
An altar on the beach and, after, prayed
Around a fire and offered white meal, as he
Had ordered them, in all solemnity,
By their swift, dark ship cooked a meal, and then
Made offering to the Olympian gods, and when
They no more craved sweet food, they left the strand,
Led by the lord Apollo, in his hand 560
A lyre. Stepping high and proud, he played
A sweet air, while the Cretans also made
Their way to Pytho, dancing to the beat
Of their own paean as the men of Crete
Perform it, filled with a sweet melody
Sent by the Muse. The ridge unwearily
They reached, then saw Parnassus and the place,
That sweet place, where they’d dwell, receiving grace
From many men. The holy sanctum then
He showed them, and the rich shrine. In those men 570
Their hearts were stirred, and then their master said:
“Since from our friends and country we’ve been led
By you, lord - so it pleased you – how shall we
Now live? That would we know. Here do we see
No vineyards, pastures, nothing else that can
Help us to thrive and serve our fellow-man.”
Apollo smiled and said: ”You’d like to be
Oppressed by cares, hard toil and poverty,
You foolish wretches! Listen, I will say
One little thing – although you all will slay 580
These sheep with knives continually, yet still
You will have endless plenteousness that will
Be brought to me by glorious tribes. So mind
My shrine and entertain all of mankind
That gathers here and show my will to all.
Be righteous, and if anyone should fall
From compliance or shun me or, maybe,
Utter a word or act unthinkingly
Or show conceit, as men will, other men
Shall be your masters and forever then 590
Shall you be in their power. Now you know
It all – remember it.” So farewell, o
You son of Zeus and Leto. You I’ll tell
Of in my song – another song as well.
IV - TO HERMES
The son of Zeus and Maia, Hermes, sing,
O Muse, lord of Arcadia, burgeoning
With flocks, and of Cyllene, who brings glee,
The herald of the gods and progeny
Of Zeus and rich-tressed Maia, a shy
Goddess who passed her fellow-deities by
And dwelt in a dark cave, and it was there
One night she lay with Zeus – and unaware
Of what they did were all the gods and men –
While white-armed Hera sweetly slept, and when 10
Great Zeus’s deed was done and up on high
The tenth moon was established in the sky,
She was delivered and a deed was done
Of great import: she bore a cunning son,
Gifted, a thief, a cattle-driver too,
A watcher at the gates by night, one who
Brings dreams and will among the gods display
Great deeds. Though born at dawn, yet at midday
He played the lyre and when nightfall had come,
He stole Apollo’s cattle (the month’s sum 20
Of days was four); once from the womb he’d leapt,
Within his holy cradle nothing kept
Him long. He left his high cave in one bound
And in his search an endless joy he found
In a tortoise, which he first made fit for song.
He came upon it waddling along
Before the courtyard portals as it fed
On the rich grass. He laughed out loud and said:
“A wondrous sign of luck so soon for me!
I will not slight it. Hail, in ecstasy 30
I greet you, lovely beater of the ground,
Companion at the feast. Where have you found
This spangled shell, this plaything – you who dwell
Up in the mountains? Since you’ll serve me well,
I’ll take you home and bring you no disgrace.
First you must help me, though. A better place
Is home – outdoors is harmful. You shall be
A spell against malicious sorcery.
You’ll sing most sweetly, though, when you are dead.”
He gathered up the tortoise as he said 40
These words and took his fine toy home with him.
With a grey iron ladle every limb
Of this peak-living beast he lopped away.
As swift thought comes to those around whom play
Uneasy, thronging cares, as from the gaze
Of someone’s eyes resplendent glances blaze,
Famed Hermes made his plans for word and deed
Immediately. He measured stalks of reed
Which he had cut and then he fixed each one
Across its back and through its shell. This done. 50
He stretched an ox-hide very skilfully
Across it, put the horns on, too, then he
Fit bridges on the horns in, too, and then
Stretched seven strings made out of sheep-gut. When
He had done that, he tested every string
With the plectrum as he held the lovely thing.
It sounded wondrously beneath his hand
While he sang sweetly, as a youthful band
Swaps taunts at festivals. He sang an air
Of Zeus and well-shod Maia, how that pair 60
Chatted while they made love, and he related
The tale of his famed birth and celebrated
The nymph’s handmaids and her bright home and all
The tripods and the cauldrons at her hall.
Meanwhile, with other matters he was faced.
He took the hollow lyre which he placed
Inside his holy cradle. Now he yearned
For meat and with sheer trickery he burned
As he sprang from the fragrant hall and went
To a lookout – on such deeds are rascals bent 70
In dead of night. The sun beneath the land
Was setting in the west with horses and
Their chariot. Hermes now came at a run
To the Pierian peaks that lack the sun,
Where the gods’ deathless cattle have their stead
And on unmown and pleasant grass are fed.
And then the son of Maia, he who slew
Argos, took fifty beasts that loudly moo
From the herd and drove them all a-straggling
Across a sandy spot while swivelling 80
Their hoof-prints round. It was a clever scheme
To turn them in that way that they might seem
Not what they were, while he walked normally.
With wickerwork he fastened by the sea
Wonderful sandals, quite remarkable,
Before unheard-of, unimaginable,
With myrrh-twigs and with tamarisks mixed. Fresh wood
He fastened and attached them – well and good- ,
The leaves and all, beneath his feet. Behold,
A pair of lightweight sandals. As I told
You, this was in Pieria when he
Prepared to leave upon his odyssey 90
In his unique way. An old greybeard, though,
Tilling his flowering vineyard, saw him go
Speeding towards the plain as he went through
Grassy Onchestus. “Well, old fellow, who
Are digging with bowed shoulders, “ famed Hermes
Said, “you’ll have plenteous wine when all of these
Vines bear fruit. So remember not to see
What you in fact have seen, and similarly
Be deaf to what you’ve heard and do not say
A word – you’ll not be harmed in any way. 100
At this, he sped his sturdy cattle on.
Through many shadowy mountains had they gone,
Echoing gorges, flowering plains, with night,
His holy friend, near over, and daylight,
That urges folk to labour, almost nigh,
When Pallas’ child Selene up on high
Climbed to the look-out, shining radiantly,
Then to the Alpheius Zeus’ strong progeny
Drove Phoebus’ wide-faced cattle and, still spry,
They reached the byres where the roofs loomed very high 110
And troughs before the splendid field, and when
He’d fed the loudly-lowing cattle, then
He drove them close-packed to the byre while they
On moist sedge and on lotus chewed away.
He heaped a pile of wood and started out
To seek the art of fire. He took a stout
Bay-branch and trimmed it with a knife which he
Clutched tightly in his hand, and torridly
The smoke rose up. For fire he formulated
And fire-sticks. Next he accumulated 120
Many dried sticks and laid them thick and tight
In a sunken trench and with a fiery light
A flame began to glow and when the force
Of famed Hephaestus took its blazing course
He dragged two horned and lowing cows along
Close to the fire – for he too was strong –
And threw them panting on their backs and, when
He’d rolled them to their sides, their life force then
He pierced. Then, slice by slice, the meat he slit,
The rich and fatted meat, then on a spit 130
Of wood the flesh he roasted and the dark
Blood of the innards and the chine, the mark
Of honour; on a rugged rock each hide
He spread and even now through time and tide
They still are there and evermore shall be.
Then Hermes took the rich meat joyfully
And placed it on a stone both smooth and flat
And split it into twelve by lot. At that,
Each slice would bring much honour to each one
Who tasted it. Now Zeus’s famous son 140
Longed for the holy meat. Its sweet smell made
Him dreary, though a god, but he was stayed
By his proud heart, but he put it all by,
The fat and flesh, in the byre, whose roof was high
And quietly placed it high so all might see
His youthful theft. Dry sticks accordingly
He gathered and then threw into the flame
The heads and hooves. When to the end he came
Of all these deeds, his sandals then he cast
In the deep river Alpheius and passed 150
The night in quenching embers and with sand
He spread the black ash, while upon the land
Selene brightly shone. At break of day
To Cyllene’s bright crests he went straightaway.
And there was neither god nor man – not one –
Met him as on he trekked, and no dogs – none –
Let out a bark. Then luck-bringing Hermes,
The son of Zeus, just like a misty breeze
In fall, passed through the keyhole of the hall
Straight to the rich shrine and no noise at all 160
He made then went to his cradle hurriedly
And donned his baby-clothes so he might be
Just like a babe himself and then he played
With the sheet about his knees; yet he had laid
At his left hand his sweet lyre. And yet he
Was noticed by his goddess mother. She
Said: “Oh you rogue, whence have you come at night,
Wrapped in your shamelessness? With cords drawn tight
Round you shall Phoebus – such is my belief –
Eject you or you’ll live life as a thief 170
Out in the glens. Go! You were spawned to be
A bane to men and gods.” Then craftily
He answered: “Why attempt to make me start,
Mother? I’m not a helpless babe whose heart
Knows little wrong and fears his mother may
Rebuke him. I’ll continue to essay
What plan is best and feed continually
The two of us. I’m not prepared to be
A resident here, as you advise, and bear
The shame of not receiving gifts or prayer. 180
Better to live among the gods always,
Wealthy in everything, than spend my days
In gloomy caves, and as for honour, why,
If Zeus will not allow me them, I’ll be
The prince of thieves – I’ve the ability.
If I’m sought out by Leto’s glorious son,
I think that he’ll regret what he has done.
Into Pytho’s great house I plan to break
And from it I will splendid tripods take 190
And gold and cauldrons, in great number, too,
And much bright iron and apparel. All this you
May see.” That’s what they said, each to the other,
Hermes the son of Zeus and his royal mother,
Maia. When early Dawn brought light to men
From the deep-flowing Oceanus, then
Phoebus Apollo came to Onchestus,
The holy, sweet grove of Gaieochus,
The roaring Lord of Earth and there he found
An old man who along the trodden ground 200
From the courtyard fence his beast was pasturing.
The glorious Hermes said the following:
“Old man, who weed the grassy land, I came
Out of Pieria with just one aim -
Cattle, all cows, with curving horns – I own
Them all. The pitch-black bull grazed all alone.
Four fierce-eyed hounds, though, shadowed them like men,
All of one mind. The dogs and bull were then
All left behind – surprisingly. And yet
The cows left the sweet pasture at sunset. 210
Tell me, have you seen someone passing by
Behind these cows? The old man answered: “Why,
My friend, it’s hard to tell all one can see.
So many pass through this locality,
Some bent on bad, some good. It’s hard to know
Each one. While digging in my vineyard, though,
Till sunset, I believe, sir, that I spied
Some child or other walking side to side
Behind some long-haired beasts and carrying
A stick – though I’m not sure – and piloting 220
Them backwards, facing them.” That’s what he said,
And at his words Apollo faster sped
Upon his way. He noticed presently
A long-winged bird and knew the progeny
Of Zeus had stolen them. So then with speed
He went to splendid Pylos in his need
To find the shambling beasts, while all around
His massive shoulders a dark cloud was bound.
Apollo marked his footsteps, saying: “Oh,
This is a wondrous marvel; for, although 230
The straight-horned oxen made these tracks, they lead –
Or seem to do – back to the flowery mead.
No man nor woman, no grey wolf nor bear
Nor lion made the tracks that I see there,
Nor shaggy Centaur either, I suppose,
Whoever made such monstrous tracks as those
So swiftly. For on this side of the way
They are amazing – even more are they
Upon the other. When this he had said,
He to well-forested Cyllene sped 240
And the deep, rocky cave, beset with shade,
Where Zeus was born unto the holy maid.
The lovely hill smelled sweetly and a flock
Of sleek sheep grazed and he that dusky rock
Instantly entered. Hermes, when he knew
Apollo’s anger, snuggled down into
His fragrant swaddling-clothes. As ash will screen
Tree-stumps’ deep embers, Hermes, once he’d seen
Apollo, huddled, heads, hands, feet squeezed tight
(Just as a new-born seeking sweet sleep might), 250
Though wide awake. His lyre he kept below
His armpit. Phoebus recognized him, though,
And Maia, too, the lovely mountain-maid,
Although he was so craftily arrayed
And but a babe. Through that great cavity
He peered in every nook; with a bright key
He opened up three closets well-supplied
With nectar and ambrosia beside
Much gold and silver, Maia’s garments, too,
Some purple and some silver, such as you 260
Might see among the blessed gods. then he
Said: ‘Infant, lying in your cot, lest we
Fall out, tell me about my beasts. I’ll fling
You into dusky Hell, that harrowing
And hopeless dark. Your parents shall not flee
You as you roam and hold supremacy
But over little folk.” Then said Hermes
With cunning: ”Phoebus, what harsh words are these?
You want your cows? I’ve not seen them or heard
A single mention of them, not a word. 270
I cannot help you, cannot claim a prize.
Am I a cattle-lifter in your eyes?
A strong man? No, this isn’t my concern.
I care for other things; for sleep I yearn
And mother’s milk and blankets and to be
Bathed in warm baths. Let our controversy
Not be reported, for this would astound
The gods - that such an infant would be found
Bringing home beasts. Unseemly! I was born
But yesterday, my soft feet would be torn 280
By rugged ground. Upon my father’s head
I’ll swear a great oath, if you wish it said,
That I am innocent nor did I see
Who took those cows – whatever cows they be,
For I have only heard of them, “he said.
He quickly glanced about and turned his head
This way and that and raised his brows as well
And whistled long as he heard Phoebus tell
His tale as though he lied. Then quietly
Apollo laughed and said: “So virtuously 290
You speak, you cunning rogue, full of deceit.
This night, I think, you’ve plundered many a seat,
Filching in silence. In the glades up high
You’ll badger many a herdsman, coming by
His herds and thick-fleeced sheep in your great thirst
For flesh. Come in now, leave your cot, your cursed
Companion, if you’d not sleep your last sleep.
Among the gods this title shall you keep
Forever – prince of thieves.” He grabbed the lad,
But Hermes had a plan: while Phoebus had 300
Him in his hands, he sent up to the sky
A bird, a hard-worked serf that flew on high,
A wretched envoy, and immediately
He sneezed. Apollo threw him down when he
Heard this and, eager though he was to go,
Sat down and mockingly addressed him: “Oh,
Fear not, you swaddled one, I’ll find my herd,
My brawny cows, by reason of this bird.
And you shall lead the way.” Immediately
Hermes sprang up and off. The sheet that he 310
Had placed around his shoulders he now drew
Up to his ears and said: “Hey, where are you
Carrying me? The angriest of all
The gods are you. Is it these cows that gall
You so that you harass me thus? Death to
All cattle! Look, I did not filch from you
Your cows – whatever they may be – or see
The culprit. I but heard their history.
Be just and swear to Zeus.” They argued thus
In detail, nor was Phoebus tyrannous – 320
He’d lost his cattle! But duplicity
Was Hermes’ aim, but when he found that he
Was matched in this, across the sand he sped
With Phoebus in his wake, himself ahead.
They came to sweet Olympus quickly, where
The scales of justice waited for this pair.
After the hour of Dawn on her gold seat
The gods on snowy Olympus came to meet
In counsel. Then they stood at Zeus’s knees:
To Phoebus the High-Thunderer’s words were these: 330
“Whence have you brought this mighty spoil, this tot
So like a messenger? This is a lot
For us to think about?” In his reply
Apollo said: ”Father, the time is nigh
For you to hear this weighty tale, although
You chide me for my love of spoil. But lo!
Here is a child whom, after journeying long,
I found, a downright plunderer, among
Cyllene’s hills. Such pert audacity
Among both gods and men I’ve failed to see – 340
Though many men deceive. He pirated
My cattle from their meadow, then he led
Them west to the shore of the loud-roaring sea
And straight to Pylos. Like a prodigy
Of some smart sprite, these traces were twofold.
The cattle’s tracks, the black dust clearly told,
Led to the flowery lea. But that strange thing
That led them seemed to have been travelling,
Outside the path upon the sandy ground,
On neither hands nor feet. He must have found 350
Some other means – in slender oaks maybe.
The dust showed all these tracks perceptibly.
After the sandy trek, though, not a trace
Could be detected on the ground’s hard face.
But as he drove the wide-browed cattle straight
To Pylos, someone saw him. When the gate
He’d quietly closed behind them, craftily
By twists and turns he went back home, then he
Lay in his cradle, still as the dark night,
In his dim cave – no keen-eyed eagle might 360
Have spotted him. Then much he rubbed his eyes
And bluntly spoke out as he planned his lies:
“I have not seen or heard of them; no man
Has told me of them, so of them I can
Say nothing nor claim a reward.’” At that,
Phoebus sat down. Then Hermes pointed at
Lord Zeus and answered: “Here’s the truth for I
Am truthful, Zeus, and cannot tell a lie.
Seeking his shambling cows, he came today
Up to our house just at the break of day. 370
He brought no god as witness. Violently
He ordered me to make confession. He
Vowed he’d send me to the broad land of Hell,
Because he’s at the height of youth and, well,
I was born yesterday – he knows it, too.
I don’t steal cows, I’m weak. All this is true –
Believe, for you claim to have fathered me.
I did not take them – as I hope to be
Wealthy – nor cross the threshold. I revere
Helios and all the gods. You I hold dear 380
While dreading him. You know I’m blameless. I
Will swear a great oath that I am. Yes, by
The finely-decked Olympian drapery!
One day I’ll punish him, strong though he be,
For this harsh grilling. Now, though, give your aid
To younger ones. The Cyllenian spoke and made
Side glances, while his swaddling-clothes he had
Upon his arm. Zeus laughed at this young lad
Who plotted ill, denying cunningly
His guilt. He ordered both of them to be 390
Of one mind and search out the beasts. Hermes
He told to lead and deal no falsities
And show where he had left the sturdy herd.
Zeus nodded. Good Hermes obeyed his word,
For Zeus’s will prevailed. And then his two
Fine sons for sandy Pylos made and through
The ford of Alpheius and the fields they came
Up to the high-roofed byre where those same
Beasts were brought up. Then to the rocky cove
Went Hermes and the hardy herd he drove 400
Into the light. Now Phoebus glanced aside
And in the precipitous rock cowhides he spied
And said to glorious Hermes: “Crafty one,
How could you flay two cows? How was it done
By one new-born? I dread your future strength;
Your growing’s almost at its utmost length.”
With hardy osier cords he tried to bind
His hands. About each other, though, they twined
And grew beneath their feet immediately
And hid the wild beasts through the trickery 410
Of Hermes. Phoebus gaped in great surprise.
Then furtively the Argos-Slayer’s eyes
Bent to the ground and flashed like fire as he
Desired to hide himself. Yet easily
He soothed the son of glorious Leto, stern
Though he yet was. He tried each string in turn
When he took up the lyre and he produced
A sound wondrous to hear and it induced
Phoebus to laugh with joy, and that sweet sound
Of glorious music touched his heart; around 420
His soul a tender longing grew as he
Sat listening. Now, playing beautifully,
Hermes plucked up his nerve and stood nearby
Phoebus’ left side and, as he warbled high,
Began to sing, and lovely was the sound.
Of the deathless gods he sang and of the ground,
Their birth and how the portions came to be
Doled out to each one. First Mnemosyne,
The Muses’ mother, he acclaimed – her due
Was Maia’s son himself. According to 430
Their ages, all the rest he hymned – how they
Were born – as on his arm his lyre lay.
A boundless longing seized Phoebus, and so
With winged words he said to Hermes: “O
Beast-slayer, busy rogue, friend of the feast,
The song you sing’s worth fifty cows at least.
This problem can be settled, I believe,
Amicably. Therefore, please give me leave,
O clever one, to know if this great thing
Was yours from birth or did you learn to sing 440
With some god’s teaching? For it’s marvellous,
This new-sung sound, which I think none of us-
No god nor man – but you has ever known,
You thief. What is this talent that you own?
To take away one’s desperate cares? For here
Are three things one may choose from – love and cheer
And restful sleep. I am a satellite
Of the Olympian Muses who delight
In song and dance and in the thrilling cry
And full-toned chant of flutes. However, I 450
Have never liked those clever feats before
One hears at young men’s sprees. Now I adore
Your sound. I marvel at how well you play.
But sit down, since, though born but yesterday,
You have such skills. Lend a respectful ear
To counsel which from your elders you’ll hear.
Among the gods, you, and your mother too,
Shall have renown. This shall I tell to you
Directly. By this cornel-shaft, you’ll be,
Among the gods, a leader – dignity 460
And glorious gifts I’ll give you. Nor will I
Deceive you ever.” Hermes, in reply,
Said craftily: Your questions to me are
Most careful, o you who work from afar.
I am not jealous that you want a part
In my great skill: today I shall impart
This fact to you. I wish to be a friend
To you in thought and deed. Now there’s an end:
You know it all. Foremost you sit among
The deathless gods, and you are good and strong. 470
Zeus rightly loves you. Splendid presents he’s
Given to you. They say that dignities
And his decrees and oracles you know
Of him. I’ve heard you’re rich. Whateverso
You wish to know, you may. But since to play
The lyre is your wish, then chant away
And pluck its strings. Give way to gaiety.
This is my gift to you. Yet give to me
Renown, my friend. With this ally who’s so
Clear-voiced within your hands, sing well. You know 480
The art of balanced utterance. Now bring
It boldly to rich feasts, to revelling.
To lovely dances – such festivity
Both night and day. If someone knowingly
Should ask about it, by its very sound
It teaches wondrous things that play around
The mind. With its humanity and ease
And feeling, toilsome drudgery it flees.
But if some fool should query violently,
It chatters nothing but mere vanity. 490
You can discover what you please, though. So
Here is my lyre. For my part, I’ll go
And on both plain and hill my beasts I’ll feed.
Then, coupling with my bulls, the cows will breed
Heifers and bulls galore. Though you’ve a bent
For greed, you’ve no need to be violent
And angry. He held out the instrument.
Apollo took it and, unhesitant,
Proffered to him his whip that shone so bright
And made him keeper of the herds. Delight 500
Caught Hermes as he took it while Apollo
Took up the lyre and placed it in the hollow
Of his left arm and tested every string
With the plectrum one by one. And did it sing
As he so sweetly trilled! Subsequently
They took the herd back to the sacred lea,
Then sped to snowy Olympus once again,
Delighting in the lyre. Wise Zeus then
Was glad and joined those two in amity.
And since that time Hermes continually 510
Loved Phoebus, having given the instrument
To him as token. More than competent
Was he in playing it. But he now found
Another cunning art – the pipes, whose sound
Is heard afar. Phoebus said to him: “Guide
So full of cunning, I am terrified
That you will steal the lyre and the curved bow,
For Zeus has authorized that you shall go
And travel through the fruitful earth to trade
With men. But if a mighty oath you made 520
Among the gods by nodding of your head
Or by the potent waters which the dead
Traverse, you’ll please me well and comfort me.
Then Hermes bowed his head in surety
That he’d not steal whatever he possessed
Or near his mighty house. Phoebus professed
His friendship with the lad and vowed he’d love
Not one of those immortals high above
The earth nor any Zeus-born mortals more.
Zeus sent an eagle then, and Phoebus swore: 530
“To all the gods above I shall impart
You as a token that within my heart
You’re prized and trusted. I’ll give you to hold
A splendid staff of riches made of gold,
Three-branched, which will preserve you and fulfil
All words and actions, so they be not ill.
This do I know from Zeus. The prophecy,
However, noble, heaven-born progeny,
Of which you query, never must be known
By any other god but Zeus alone. 540
As pledge a great and solemn oath I swore
That to no god who lives for evermore
But me shall Zeus his clever plans unfold.
So, brother, you who bear the staff of gold,
Don’t bid me tell them. As for mortals, I’ll
Harm one and aid another, all the while
Sorely perplexing all humanity.
That man who hears the bird of prophecy
And sees its flight and comes to me shall get
My vocal aid and not be misled. Yet 550
Who trusts in birds that idly chatter and
Wishes, against my will, to understand
More than the gods, his journey’s been in vain.
And yet the gifts he brings I shall retain.
I’ll tell you something more, lad: there are three
Pure, holy winged sisters whom you’ll see
Sprayed with white meal about their heads. They dwell
In their home beneath Parnassus in a dell,
All teachers of the art of prophecy,
Apart from me, an art which occupied me 560
When, as a boy, I followed herds, although
My father paid no heed. They to and fro
Fly, feeding on honeycomb as they induce
The future. When inspired by the juice
Of honey, they’ll speak truth. But if denied
The gods’ sweet food, they’ll tell lies as they glide
About. I give you them. If you enquire
Strictly of them, you’ll gain your heart’s desire.
If you teach this to someone else, he’ll hear
Your answer often, if he wins good cheer. 570
Take these and tend your roving, horned herd,
All steeds and patient mules.” That was his word.
And over all the wild beasts that are fed
By the broad earth, he made famed Hermes head –
The grim-eyed lion, the gleaming-tusked boar,
All flocks, all dogs, all sheep and, furthermore,
Made him sole messenger to Hades: though
Hades receives no bounty, even so
He’ll give him no mean prize. The progeny
Of Maia thus received great amity 580
From Lord Apollo who augmented then
His gifts with grace – with all the gods and men
He traffics. Though he makes some gains, yet he
Cheats men throughout the night continually.
So farewell, son of Maia. You I’ll tell
Of in my song – another song as well.
V - TO APHRODITE
Of golden Aphrodite, Muse, tell me –
That Cyprian goddess who stirs ecstasy
Among the gods, subduing men, as well,
And birds and animals, all those that dwell
On earth and in the sea. They all hold dear
The well-wreathed one’s exploits. There are a mere
Three hearts she cannot bend nor yet beguile:
Grey-eyed Athene’s one – she’ll never smile
At Aphrodite’s deeds. Her care is war,
The work of Ares, conflict, blood and gore. 10
She was the first to teach mortals to build
Bronze chariots of battle, and she filled
Soft maids with knowledge of the arts. Also,
The laughter-loving love goddess had no
Ability to tame the dark huntress,
Gold-shafted Artemis, in amorousness,
For she loves slaying beasts and archery,
The lyre, thrilling cries, terpsichory,
Dark groves and just men’s cities. Now the chaste
Istia is the third to have no taste 20
For Aphrodite’s works (first progeny
Of wily Cronus, and the last, was she
By aegis-bearing Zeus’s will) - a queen
Of whom Poseidon and Phoebus had been
Wooers, whom she rejected stubbornly.
She swore a great oath, which would come to be
Fulfilled, by touching Father Zeus’s head.
She’d be a virgin evermore, she said.
For this she was given a great reward
And lodged inside the house of Zeus, the lord 30
Of all and got the greatest share, and she
Is praised in all the shrines, the primary
Goddess among all mortals. These are they
That she can’t influence in any way.
But Aphrodite cannot be ignored
By other gods or men. Even the lord,
Thunderer Zeus, she leads astray, though he
Is mightiest of all. Easily she
Seduces his wise heart and, at a whim,
With mortal womenfolk enforces him 40
To couple, although Hera does not know
Of this (she is his sister and, also,
His wife) and Hera’s the most beauteous
Of all the goddesses – most glorious
Child whom with Rhea sly Cronus created.
With the chaste, modest goddess Zeus then mated,
The ever-wise one. Zeus, though, this goddess
For a mortal man imbued with amorousness.
And she lay with him so that even she
Might soon know mortal love nor laughingly 50
Say gods to mortal women she had paired,
Creating mortal men, while men had shared,
Through her, goddesses’ beds. So she straightway
Then made Anchises love her who, that day,
In godlike shape, was tending herds around
Many-springed Ida’s steep hills. When she found
The man, she loved him passionately. She went
To Paphos where her altar, sweet with scent,
And precinct were. She entered there, and tight
She shut the doors, those doors that shone so bright. 60
The Graces bathed her with the oil that’s seen
Upon the deathless gods with heavenly sheen,
Fragrant and sweet. Her rich clothes they arrayed
Her in, then, swathed in gold, for Troy she made
With speed high in the air. And thus she came
To Ida (of the beasts she cannot tame
She is the mother). To the high retreat
She came, where, fawning, grey wolves came to meet
Her – grim-eyed lions and speedy leopards, too,
Hungry for deer and bears. All, two by two, 70
Mated among the shadowy haunts. But she
Came to the well-built leas. And there was he -
The hero Anchises, some way away
From others, in the homesteads. One could say
That he was godlike in his beauty. Though
The others urged their cattle all to go
With them to grassy pasturelands, yet he
Was playing on his lyre thrillingly
While strolling to and fro. And there she stood
Before him like a girl in maidenhood, 80
In height and mien, that she might quell his fright.
He saw her and he wondered at the sight –
Her height and mien, her shining clothes. For she
Had on a robe whose shining brilliancy
Capped fire, gorgeous, golden and enhanced
With many hues and, like a moon, it glanced
Over her delicate breasts, a wondrous sight,
And twisted brooches, earrings shining bright,
And lovely necklaces were set around
Her tender throat. Now Eros quickly found 90
Anchises, who said: “Lady queen, may bliss
Be on you whether you are Artemis
Or golden Aphrodite or, maybe,
Noble Themis or bright-eyed Athene
Or Leto? Does a Grace, p’raps, come to me?
(They’re called immortal, seen in company
With gods). Or else a Nymph, who’s seen around
The pleasant woods, or one, perhaps, who’s found
Upon this lovely mountain way up high
Or in streams’ springs or grassy meadows? I 100
Will build a shrine to you, seen far away
Upon a peak, and on it I will lay
In every season some rich offering.
Be gracious, granting that all men may sing
Of my prestige in Troy, my progeny
All strong forever after. As for me,
May I live long in wealth.” Then in reply
The child of Zeus addressed him and said: “I
Am no goddess, Anchises, most sublime
Of earth-born ones. Why do you think that I’m 110
Immortal? No, a mortal gave me birth.
My father’s Otreus, very well known on earth,
If you have heard of him. He holds command
In well-walled Phrygia. I understand
Your language well. At home have I been bred
By a Trojan nurse who, in my mother’s stead,
Nurtured me from a child, and that is why
I know your tongue as well. However, I
Was seized by Hermes, who took me away
From Artemis’s dance. A great array 120
Of marriageable maids were we as we
Frolicked together. A great company
Surrounded us. Thence Hermes snatched me, then
Guided me over many fields of men,
Much land that was not harrowed nor possessed,
Where beasts of prey roamed the dark vales. I guessed
I’d never touch the earth again. He said
I’d be the wedded partner of your bed
And birth great brood. Back to the gods he flew,
And here I am! I have great need of you. 130
So by your noble parents (for no-one
Of wretched stock could create such a son)
And Zeus, I beg, take me to wife, who know
Nothing of love, a maiden pure, and show
Me to your parents and your brothers, who
Shall like me well. Then send a herald to
The swift-horsed Phrygians that immediately
My sorrowing folks shall know of this. You’ll see
From them much gold and woven stuff and more.
Take these as bride-price, then make ready for 140
A lovely wedding that for gods and men
Shall be immortalized. The goddess then
Put love into his heart. Then Anchises,
Thus stricken, said: ”If I can credit these
Words that you say, if you’re of mortals bred,
That Otreus fathered you – that’s what you said –
And Hermes brought you here that you might be
My wife forever, no-one shall stop me –
No god nor man – from having intercourse
With you right now, not even if perforce 150
Phoebus shot arrows from his silver bow
At me. I’d go into the land below
The earth most gladly once I’d broached your bed,
O godlike lady.” That is what he said.
He took her hand. She threw her glance aside,
Her lovely eyes cast down, and slowly hied
To the well-spread bed, which was already made
With delicate coverings. On it were laid
Bearskins and skins of roaring lions he
Had killed in that mountainous territory. 160
In bed, each twisted brooch and each earring
And necklace he removed – each shining thing –
And doffed her girdle and bright clothes and laid
Her on a golden-studded seat, then made
Love to her, man and goddess – destiny
And the gods’ will condoned it – although he
Did not know what he did. But at the hour
When oxen and tough sheep back from the flower-
Filled pasture were led home, the goddess blessed
Anchises with sweet sleep but then she dressed 170
Herself in her rich garments. With her head
Reaching the well-hewn roof-tree, by the bed
She stood, and from her cheeks there radiated
Unearthly beauty one associated
With well-wreathed Cytherea. And then she
Roused him and said: “Why sleep so heavily?
Get up, Anchises! Tell me, is my guise
The same to you as when you first laid eyes
Upon me?” He awoke immediately.
Seeing her neck and lovely eyes, was he 180
Afraid; he turned his eyes, his cloak concealing
His comely face. His winged words appealing,
He said: “When first I looked on you, I knew
You were a goddess – you did not speak true.
By aegis-bearing Zeus, I beg, let me
Not live my life among humanity,
A palsied thing. Have pity. For a man
Who lies with goddesses no longer can
Be sound.” She answered him: “O leading light
Of mortals, courage! You’ve no need of fright. 190
Nor I nor any god will cause you fear –
The gods love you. A son who shall be dear
To you shall over Troy hold sovereignty,
As shall his offspring in posterity.
His name shall be Aeneas, for the pain
Of grief I felt inside because I’d lain
With a mortal. Yet the people of your race
Are the most godlike, being fair of face
And tall. Zeus seized golden-haired Ganymede
Thanks to his beauty, that he might indeed 200
Pour wine for all the gods and always be
Among them all – remarkable to see.
Honoured by all, he from the golden bowl
Drew the red nectar. Grief, though, filled the soul
Of Tros, not knowing if a heaven-sent blow
Had snatched away his darling son, and so
He mourned day after day unceasingly.
In pity, Zeus gave him indemnity-
High-stepping horses such as carry men.
Hermes, the Argos-slaying leader, then, 210
At Zeus’s bidding, told him all – his son
Would live forever agelessly, atone
With all the gods. So, when he heard of this
No longer did he mourn but, filled with bliss,
On his storm-footed horses joyfully
He rode away. Tithonus similarly
Was seized by golden-throned Eos – he, too,
Was of your race and godlike, just like you.
She begged dark-clouded Zeus to give consent
That he’d be deathless, too. Zeus granted this. 220
But thoughtless queenly Eos was amiss,
Not craving youth so that senility
Would never burden him and so, though he
Lived happily with Eos far away
On Ocean’s streams, at the first signs of grey
Upon his lovely head and noble chin,
She spurned his bed but cherished him within
Her house and gave him lovely clothes to wear,
Food and ambrosia. But when everywhere
Old age oppressed him and his every limb
He could not move, her best resolve for him 230
Was this – to place him in a room and close
The shining doors. An endless babbling rose
Out of his mouth; he had no strength at all
As once he had. I’d not have this befall
Yourself. But if you looked as now you do
Forevermore and everyone called you
My husband, I’d not grieve. But pitiless
Old age will soon enshroud you – such distress
Will burden every mortal – wearying
And deadly, even by the gods a thing 240
Of fear. You’ve caused great endless infamy
For me among the gods who formerly
Feared all my jibes and wiles with which I mated
The gods with mortal maids and subjugated
Them all. However, no more shall my word
Have force among the gods, since I’ve incurred
Much madness on myself, dire, full of dread.
My mind has gone astray! I’ve shared a bed
With a mortal! Underneath my girdle lies
A child! As soon as he has cast his eyes 250
Upon the sun, the mountain Nymphs whose breasts
Are deep, who dwell on those great sacred crests,
Shall rear him. They’re not of mortality
Nor immortality; extendedly
They live, eat heavenly food and lightly tread
The dance among the deathless ones and bed
With Hermes and Sileni, hid away
In pleasant caves, and on the very day
That they are born, up from the fruitful earth
Pines and high oaks also display their birth, 260
Trees so luxuriant, so very fair,
Called the gods’ sancta, high up in the air.
No mortal chops them down. When the Fates mark
Them out for death, they wither there, their bark
Shrivelling too, their twigs fall down. As one,
Both Nymph and tree leave the light of the sun.
They’ll rear my son. And at his puberty
The goddesses will show you him. Let me
Tell you what I propose – when he is near
His fifth year on this earth, I’ll bring him here 270
That you may gaze upon him and enjoy
The sight, for he will be a godlike boy.
Bring him to windy Ilium. If you
Are queried by some mortal as to who
Gave birth to him, then say, as I propose,
It was a flower-like Nymph, one Nymph of those
Who dwell upon that forest-covered crag.
Should you tell all, though, and foolishly brag
That you have lain with rich-crowned Aphrodite,
Then with a smoky bolt will Zeus Almighty 280
Strike you. That’s all. Take heed. Do not name me.
Respect the anger of the gods.” Then she
Soared up to windy heaven. Queen, farewell.
Your tale is told. I have one more to tell.
VI - TO APHRODITE
Of stately Aphrodite, crowned with gold
And beautiful I'll sing, her whose stronghold
Is well-walled, sea-girt Cyprus, whither she
Was wafted on soft foam across the sea
By the moist West Wind, received with happiness
By the gold-circleted Hours, her heavenly dress
Provided by them, and a diadem
They placed upon her heavenly head – a gem
Of gold, fair and well-wrought. Her ears, which she
Had pierced, they hung with fine-gold jewelry 10
And copper-mountain gems. Her snowy-white
Breasts and her tender neck were decked with bright-
Gold necklaces, which they themselves would wear
When they went to their father’s house, for there
They joined the gods in fair terpsichory.
Decked out they took her to the company
Of the gods who warmly greeted her and prayed,
As each one welcomed with his hands the maid,
That she might be his wedded wife, their eyes
Gazing upon the goddess in surprise. 20
O sweetly-winning, coy-eyed goddess, hail!
O grant that in this contest I’ll not fail.
Give orders for my song. For you I’ll tell
Of in my song – another song as well.
VII - TO DIONYSUS
I'll sing of Dionysus, who's the son
Of glorious Semele, just like someone
In the first flush of youth close by the strand
Of the fruitless sea on a jutting headland,
While all about him waved his rich dark hair,
A purple robe on his strong back. Soon there
Appeared, in a well-decked ship, a company
Of Tyrrhenian pirates on the wine-dark sea.
They saw him, nodded each to each and sprang
Out quickly and their hearts joyfully sang 10
As he was seized, for they believed that he
Was son of heavenly kings and wished to see
Him tightly bound but could not do it. No,
The bonds fell from his hands and feet and lo!
He sat there with his dark eyes smiling. Then
The helmsman, now enlightened, to his men
Said: “Madmen! Who’s this god you’ve taken here
And bound? Even this well-built ship, I fear,
Can’t hold him. He is strong! He’s Zeus, maybe,
Or else Apollo or Poseidon. He 20
Does not appear to be like mortal men.
No, he’s a god, I’m sure. Let’s set him, then,
On the dark shore at once, and do not lay
Your hands on him lest, in a rage, he may
Send dangerous winds and heavy squalls.” Thus he
Addressed them. But the master tauntingly
Said in reply: “Madman yourself! Go check
The wind. Help hoist the sail. All hands on deck
To catch the sheets! We’ll deal with him. I claim
That Egypt or else Cyprus is his aim 30
Or else the Northern Folk or farther yet.
But he will speak out in the end, I bet,
About his friends, wealth, brothers. Destiny
Has thrown him in our way.” And, with this, he
Got them to hoist the mast and sail. The blast
Of winds then filled the sail and on the mast
They tautly hauled the sheets on either side.
But strange things happened soon. Both far and wide
Throughout the black ship wine, fragrant and sweet,
Flowed free. A heavenly scent arose. The fleet 40
Of men was all amazed. A vine now spread
On the topsail, while clusters pivoted
Down from it. From the mast dark ivy wound
With flowers blossoming and all around
Rich berries grew. The tholes were garlanded.
They told the helmsman, hearing this, to head
For land. The god, however, now transformed
Into a lion in the bows and stormed
With roaring, then amidships wondrously
He was a shaggy bear, rapaciously 50
Arising. On the deck he made appear
The fiercely glaring lion. Then in fear
The sailors hurried to the stern and pressed
All round about the helmsman, who was blest
With wisdom. Then the master suddenly
Was seized on by the lion. Into the sea
They all leapt, seeing this, and in this way
Escaped the master’s wretched fate, but they
Changed into dolphins. In his mercy, though,
Dionysus held the helmsman back, and so 60
He made him truly happy and addressed
Him thus: “Take heed, my friend, for you have been
Blessed by me. I am Dionysus, he
Who loudly shouts, the son of Semele
And Zeus.” Farewell, fair Semele’s offspring.
Forgetting you, no-one can sweetly sing.
VIII - TO ARES
Mighty Ares, with helmet all of gold,
A charioteer, a shield-bearer, so bold,
Saviour of cities, harnessed in bronze and strong
Of arm, and mighty with the spear, who long
Toils, never tired, father of Victory,
Olympus’ champion, accessory
Of Themis, rebels’ tyrant, governing
The just, of manliness the sceptred king
Who wound your fiery sphere up in the air
Among the sevenfold starry courses, where 10
In the third firmament you were conveyed
By blazing steeds, hear me, you who give aid
To men, who give us youth, a kindly ray
Shed on my life so that in strength I may
Drive bitter cowardice away and quell
My soul’s deceitful impulses. As well,
Restrain my fury, which would make me tread
The ways of bloody strife. Blest one, instead
Grant me kind peace and let me shun the fate
Of strife, the violent fiends of death and hate. 20
IX - TO ARTEMIS
Muse, sing of Artemis, the archer-maid,
Far-Shooter’s sister, she with whom she played
When young. Her steeds she waters in Meles,
Thick with deep reeds, where she, preparing these
Through Smyrna swiftly drives her golden car
To viny Claros where, awaiting Far-
Discharging Artemis, armed with his bow
Of silver sits the god Apollo. So,
Hail to all goddesses, but first to you –
Now I’ve begun I’ll sing another, too. 10
X - TO APHRODITE
Of Cyprian Aphrodite I will sing,
Who gives men lovely bounty, shimmering
Delightfully with smiles. Goddess, farewell,
Who in fine Salamis, your kingdom, dwell
And Cyprus. Be my cheerful muse, for you
I will remember – and one more song, too.
XI - TO ATHENE
The guardian of the city I will sing,
Pallas Athene, dread one, revelling
On war, destroying cities and the cries
Of conflict in the battle, and she flies
In aid of all the warriors. Goddess,
Give us good fortune and all happiness!
XII - TO HERA
Golden-throned Hera, Rhea’s child, I sing,
The queen of all immortals, bettering
Them all in beauty, both sister and mate
Of Zeus, who thunders loud. We celebrate
You. The immortals make Olympus ring
With awe for you and Zeus, loud-thundering.
XIII - TO DEMETER
I sing the dread goddess with the rich hair,
Demeter, and Persephone the fair,
Her daughter. Guide my song and do not fail
To keep secure the city. Goddess, hail.
XIV - TO THE MOTHER OF THE GODS
The mother of all gods and men, pray, sing,
Clear-voiced Muse – she’s the child of Zeus the king.
Rattles, timbrels and flutes are her delight,
The cry of wolves and lions with eyes so bright,
Echoing mountains, wooded dells. To you
O sing “Hail” and to other goddesses, too.
XV - TO HERACLES THE LION-HEARTED
Of Heracles, the strongest man on earth,
I’ll sing. In Thebes Alcmene gave him birth –
The city of lovely dances – when she lay
With dusky-clouded Zeus. Once, many a day,
He roamed through countless lands and on the sea
At King Eurystheus’ bidding. Violently
He acted, suffering much. In joy and fame
He lives now on Olympus. To him came
Neat-ankled Hebe who would be his wife.
Lord, give me wealth and fortune all my life. 10
XVI - TO ASCLEPIUS
Asclepius the healer I begin
To sing, son of Apollo. It was in
The Dotian plain where Coronis the fair,
King Phlegyas’ daughter, bore him. He takes care
Of savage pangs, a joy to men. Hail, lord!
My prayer to you my song will now afford.
XVII - TO THE DIOSCURI
Clear-voiced Muse, sing of the Tyndaridae,
Castor and Polydeuces, born on high
Of Zeus. Upon Taygetus’ heights the queen
Leda gave birth to them when she had been
Subdued in secret by dark-clouded Zeus.
Swift horsemen, hail, the sons of Tyndareus.
XVIII - TO HERMES
I sing Cyllenian Hermes, him who slew
Argos. Cyllene’s lord – Arcadia’s, too,
So rich in flocks – luck-bringing messenger
To all the gods. When Zeus had lain with her,
Maia, the child of Atlas, bore him. She
Would ever shun the immortals’ company,
Remaining shyly in her dark cave where
At dead of night the nymph with the rich hair
Would lie with Zeus when white-armed Hera, bound
In sweet sleep, lay. No god or mortal found 10
Them out. Hail, Zeus’ and Maia’s son. To you
I’ve sung a song – I’ll sing another too.
XIX - TO PAN
O Muse. Of Hermes’ darling son tell me,
Goat-footed, horned, lover of revelry.
In wooded glades with dancing nymphs he’ll tread
While they climb high upon a sheer cliff’s head
To call on Pan, the shepherd-god, whose hair
Is long and shaggy. Each white crest’s his lair,
Each rocky peak. Through the close shrubbery
He’ll roam about, now struck with ecstasy
For soft streams, now on high crags wandering,
Where flocks are seen below. Through glistening 10
High mountains on he often goes, his sight
So keen, or else upon some shouldered height
He slays wild beasts. Only at dusk does he,
As he comes from the chase, play melody
Upon his reed-pipes, sweet and low. A bird
Could not surpass his music, though she’s heard
Amid the leaves in flower-laden spring
To pour out her lament while uttering
Her honeyed song. The clear-voiced Nymphs then rush
Beside him, where some dark fount’s waters gush, 20
And sing, while echo on the mountain-peak
Wails, and the choir-god sometimes will sneak
Into their midst, but nimbly hither and yon
He bounds. A spotted lynx-pelt he has on.
He joys in song in a soft meadow, where
Sweet hyacinths and croci here and there
At random bloom. They sing about the blessed
Gods and Olympus but, above the rest,
Luck-bringing Hermes, their swift go-between,
How he came to Arcadia, the scene 30
Of many springs and flocks – his sanctuary
As the god of Cyllene’s there, where he,
Although immortal, served a man and fed
A flock of sheep because he yearned to wed
Dryops’ well-tressed child, and the ceremony
He brought about was full of joy, and she
Bore Hermes there a dear son, such a sight
To see – goat-footed, horned, a sheer delight,
A noisy, laughing tot. The nurse, though, feared
The infant’s uncouth face and his full beard, 40
And fled. Then the Luck-Bringer instantly
Picked up the babe, so glad at heart. Then he
Took him, wrapped up in many a thick hide
Of mountain-hares, to where the gods abide.
He sat beside Lord Zeus and showed his son
To all the other gods, and every one
Was pleased, especially Bacchus, and they called
The infant Pan because he had enthralled
Them all. This is my song. Hail, Lord, to you!
You I’ll recall – and another song, too. 50
XX - TO HEPHAESTUS
Sing, clear-voiced Muse, of him who captured fame
For great inventions – Hephaestus by name.
With bright-eyed Athene he showed to all men,
Who’d dwelt in mountain grottos until then
Like wild beasts, glorious crafts. But, having kenned
These things, within their houses they now spend
All year at ease in peace. Be kind to me,
Hepaestus, and give me prosperity.
XXI - TO APOLLO
Even the swan, Apollo, clearly sings
Of you as he alights with beating wings
Beside the eddying Peneus. First and last
The minstrel with his sweet tongue, holding fast
His high-pitched lyre, sings of you. Hail, lord.
I hope my song your favour will afford.
XXII - TO POSEIDON
I’ll sing of great Poseidon. It is he
Who shakes the very earth and fruitless sea.
God of the deep, you’re lord of wide Aegae
And Helicon. A twofold office by
The gods was given you, Earth-Shaker: you
Recover ships and break in horses, too.
Hail, Holder of the Earth, hail, dark-haired lord.
Blest be, be kind! To sailors help afford!
XXIII - TO THE MOST HIGH SON OF CRONUS
Of Zeus, the chief of all the gods, I’ll sing,
The greatest lord of all, all-noticing,
Fulfiller, who whispers profundity
To Themis as she sits, obediently
Leaning towards him. Great, all-seeing son
Of Cronus, grant to us your benison.
XXIV - TO HESTIA
You, Hestia, who at goodly Pytho
Tend the holy house of Apollo,
Far-Shooter, soft oil ever from your hair
Dripping, who with omniscient Lord Zeus share
All wisdom, come into this house; advance
And with your kindliness my song enhance.
XXV - TO THE MUSES AND APOLLO
The Muses, Zeus and Phoebus shall give birth
To my song: that there are minstrels on this earth
And lutanists is due to the Muses and
To Phoebus. Kings, though, are from Zeus. How grand
He sounds who’s dear to the Muses, for how sweet
He sings! Hail, Zeus’s children! Hail, and greet
My song with approbation, and now you
I will remember – and another song, too.
XXVI - TO DIONYSUS
Of loud and ivied Bacchus hear my lay,
The splendid son of glorious Semele
And Zeus, received by all the Nymphs, whose hair
Is rich, from his father Zeus. With every care
They nursed and nurtured him in Nysa’s dells,
Where, in a cave exuding pleasant smells,
Zeus wished him reared, gods’ darling. But once raised
By the goddesses, in hymns often praised,
He’d roam the wooded valleys, garlanded
Thickly with bay and ivy, and he led 10
The Nymphs. The never-ending wood would sound
With their outcry. So, Bacchus, who abound
In clusters, hail. May we come gladly here
Next season and thenceforth for many a year.
XXVII - TO ARTEMIS
Of Artemis, whose shafts are gold, I sing,
Hurrahing to her hounds and revelling
In archery, stag-shooter, virgin miss,
Gold-sworded Phoebus’ sister – Artemis
Across dark hills and windy peaks will pace,
Her gold bow drawn, rejoicing in the chase
And shooting grievous shafts, and at the sound
Of groaning beasts, the dusky wood all round
Echoed amazingly. The earth and sea
Both shook. But the bold goddess whirlingly 10
Dealt death to the animal world. Once satisfied,
This huntress puts her slackened bow aside.
To her dear brother’s mansion now she flies
To make arrangements there in rich Delphi
For the Muses’ and the Graces’ dance. When she
Has hung her weapons up, then, gracefully
Arrayed, she leads the dances, while they sing
Their songs with heavenly voices, recounting
How trim-legged Leto bore her progeny
Supreme among the heavenly company 20
In thought and deed. Children, all hail to you.
I shall recall you – and another song, too.
XXVIII - TO ATHENA
Of Pallas Athene I begin my lay,
Famed goddess, clever, staunch, with eyes of grey,
Pure, city-saviour, full of bravery,
Of Triton born, wise Zeus’s progeny –
From his dread head he bore her, all arrayed
In armour flashing gold. When the gods laid
Their eyes on her, awe seized them all. Bounding
From Zeus’s head, she stood there brandishing
A spear. Then great Olympus horribly
Reeled at the sight of her, while fearfully 10
The earth cried out, the sea shook and was smashed
With dark waves; of a sudden white foam splashed.
The bright sun his swift steeds some long time stayed
While from her frame Athene doffed and laid
Aside her armour. Wise Zeus then was glad.
And so, daughter of Zeus, who’s always had
The aegis in his hand, all hail to you.
I will recall you – and another song, too.
XXIX - TO HESTIA
Hestia, where gods and men in great homes dwell
You’ve gained a constant place; splendidly well
You’re honoured. Mortal banquets without you
Do not exist; sweet wine – which is your due –
Both first and last is not poured anywhere
But to you. Phoebus Apollo, too, who bear
The gold rod, the gods’ messenger, both you
And holy, dear Hestia, come and dwell
In this grand house together. You know well 10
Men’s noble deeds, so make them wise and strong.
Daughter of Cronus, listen to my song,
And Hermes, too, for now I welcome you.
I shall recall you – and another song, too.
XXX - TO EARTH THE MOTHER OF ALL
I’ll sing the mother of all, well-founded Earth,
The eldest being, who throughout the girth
Of all the world, feeds everyone, on sea
And land and in the air. All progeny,
Both fruits and children, come from her. You may
Give life to men or else take it away,
O queen. That man is rich whom you delight
To prize – he has it all. His fields are bright
With corn, his herd is large. His house is full
Of luxury. Such men as he will rule 10
Cities of lovely women formally:
Great riches follow them; their sons will be
Blithe always, while their daughters will cavort
In flowery bands and jubilantly sport
Over the fields of flowers. It is thus
With those you honour, holy, bounteous
Goddess. O mother of the gods, all hail,
The wife of starry heaven. Do not fail
To cheer me for this song I sing to you.
I will recall you – and another song, too.
XXXI - TO HELIOS
Daughter of Zeus, Calliope, now sing
Of bright Helios, whom the far-glistening
And cow-eyed one engendered by the son
Of Earth and starry heaven. Hyperion
Married that glorious maid, his sister, who
Bore rosy-armed Eos, Selene, too,
Rich-tressed, and strong, godlike Helios – all three
Delightful. Helios, gazing piercingly
Beneath his golden helmet, as he goes
On his chariot, on gods and mortals glows, 10
His bright locks streaming down arrestingly,
Screening his far-seen features gracefully.
He wears a garment, finely-spun and fair,
That gleams about him, fluttering in the air,
And stallions carry him; then, at one spot,
He stays his steeds and gold-yoked chariot
And at the zenith takes his rest and then
In fine style drives them through the heaven again
To Ocean. Hail to you, lord. Liberally
Delight my heart. With you my poetry 20
Began, so I will praise the half-divine
Whose deeds the Muses have induced to shine.
XXXII - TO SELENE
And next, o sweet-voiced Muses, progeny
Of Zeus, well-skilled in singing, sing for me
Of the long-winged Moon whose sheen embraces Earth
Out of her heavenly head and thus gives birth
To beauty from her light. The air, unlit
Before, now by the golden crown of it
Shines, and her rays display a beaming path,
When fair and bright Selene takes a bath
In Ocean, putting on a robe agleam
From far away. She yokes her strong-necked team 10
Of shining, long-maned steeds. With all their might
She drives them, mid-month at approaching night.
Then is her orbit full and every beam,
As she increases, shines its brightest gleam,
A certain token and a sign to men.
The son of Cronus lay with her, and then
She bore Pandeia, in the company
Of gods the fairest. Bright divinity,
Mild, white-armed, bright-tressed queen, Selene, hail.
I’ll leave you now so I may sing the tale 20
Of glorious demi-gods, whom minstrels praise,
Serving the Muses in delightful lays.
XXXIII - TO THE DIOSCURI
O bright-eyed Muses, sing the history
Of the Tyndaridae, the progeny
Of trim-legged Leda – Castor, who can tame
All steeds, and Polydeuces, free from blame.
Beneath great Mt. Taÿgetus she lay
With Zeus of the Dark Clouds and bore them – they
Save men and swift ships when the ruthless sea
Rages with squalls: then sailors guarantee
White lambs for them when to the prow they go.
Strong winds, however, force the ship below 10
The surface. But all of a sudden they
With tawny wings dart forward and allay
The cruel blasts and still the foaming sea –
Fair tokens and release from misery.
The sight of them brings gladness to the men
Because they now have rest from toil. Hail, then,
Tyndaridae, swift horsemen, to you two.
I will recall you – and another song, too.
The end of The Homeric Hymns