The Homeric Hymns

For some say it was at Dracanum, and some on windy Icarus,
and some in Naxos — divine seed, Insewn One —
and some that beside the river Alpheus with its deep eddies
Semele conceived and bore you to Zeus who delights in thunder;
and others say, lord, that you were born at Thebes —
lying. The father of men and of gods begot you
far away from men, hiding you from white-armed Hera.
There is a certain Nysa, a mountain at the top of the world, flowering with woodland,
far from Phoenicia, near the streams of Egypt,
and they will set up many images for him in the temples.
And as these are three, so always at the three-year feasts
men will offer you perfect hecatombs.
He spoke, and the son of Cronos nodded with his dark brows;
and the ambrosial locks of the lord surged forward
from his immortal head, and he made great Olympus tremble.
So spoke Zeus the counsellor, and bowed his head in assent.
Be gracious, Insewn One, driver of women to madness; and we singers
sing of you at our beginning and at our ending, and there is no way
for a man who forgets you to remember the sacred song.
And so hail to you, Dionysus, Insewn One,
and to your mother Semele, whom they call Thyone.

Of Demeter the lovely-haired, the august goddess, I begin to sing,
of her and of her slender-ankled daughter, whom Aidoneus
carried off, and loud-thundering, far-seeing Zeus gave her away,
apart from Demeter of the golden blade, of the shining fruit,
while she played with the deep-bosomed daughters of Ocean
and gathered flowers — roses and crocus and lovely violets —
across a soft meadow, and irises too, and hyacinth,
and the narcissus, which Earth grew as a snare for the bud-faced girl
by the will of Zeus, doing a favour to the Host of Many,
a wonder glittering: an awe for all to see,
for the immortal gods and for mortal men alike.
From its root a hundred heads had grown,
and it breathed the sweetest scent, and all the wide sky above
and all the earth laughed, and the salt swell of the sea.
She marvelled at it, and reached out with both hands at once
to take the lovely plaything; and the wide-wayed earth gaped open
across the Nysian plain, and up rushed the lord, the Host of Many,
with his immortal horses, the many-named son of Cronos.
He seized her against her will and on his golden chariot
carried her off lamenting; and she cried aloud with a shrill voice,
calling on her father, the son of Cronos, the highest and the best.
But none of the immortals, none of mortal men,
heard her voice, nor the olive trees with their shining fruit,†
except the daughter of Persaeus, tender-minded,
who heard from her cave — Hecate of the bright headband —
and lord Helios, the shining son of Hyperion,
as the girl called on her father the son of Cronos. But he sat apart,
far from the gods, in his temple of many prayers,
receiving fine offerings from mortal men.
And she went unwilling, led by the promptings of Zeus,
by her father’s own brother, the Ruler of Many, the Host of Many,
with his immortal horses, the many-named son of Cronos.
Now so long as the goddess still looked on the earth and the starry heaven
and the strong-flowing sea full of fish
and the beams of the sun, and still hoped to see her honoured mother
and the tribes of the gods who live for ever,
so long did hope charm her great mind, grieved as she was.
The peaks of the mountains rang, and the depths of the sea,
with her immortal voice; and her lady mother heard her.
A sharp grief seized her heart, and about her ambrosial
hair she tore the headband apart with her own hands,
and threw a dark veil down over both her shoulders,
and darted off like a bird, over dry land and water,
searching. But no one would tell her the truth,
neither of the gods nor of mortal men,
nor did any bird come to her as a true messenger.
Then for nine days the lady Deo ranged over the earth,
holding blazing torches in her hands,
and never once did she taste of ambrosia or of nectar sweet to drink,
grieving as she was, nor did she cast water upon her body.
But when the tenth light-bringing dawn came upon her,
Hecate met her, holding a light in her hands,
and with news for her she spoke and addressed her:

"Lady Demeter, bringer of seasons, giver of splendid gifts,
which of the gods of heaven or of mortal men
has carried off Persephone and brought grief to your own spirit?
For I heard the voice, but did not see with my eyes
who it was. I tell you all of it truly, and quickly."

So spoke Hecate; and the daughter of lovely-haired Rhea
did not answer her with a word, but swiftly sped away beside her,
holding blazing torches in her hands.
They came to Helios, the watcher of gods and of men,
and stood before his horses, and the shining goddess asked him:
"Helios, respect me, goddess as I am, if ever
by word or by deed I warmed your heart and spirit.
The girl I bore, a sweet young shoot, glorious in form —
I heard her thick cry through the barren air
as of one being forced, but I did not see it with my eyes.
But you — since over all the earth and down across the sea
you look from the shining upper air with your beams —
tell me truly of my dear child, if anywhere you have seen
who it is that took her from me by force against her will
and is gone, whether of the gods or of mortal men."

So she spoke; and the son of Hyperion answered her:

"Daughter of lovely-haired Rhea, queen Demeter,
you shall know it. I revere you greatly and I pity you
grieving for your slender-ankled child. No other
of the immortals is to blame, but Zeus the cloud-gatherer,
who gave her to Hades to be called his blooming wife —
to his own brother; and Hades, down into the misty dark,
seized her and carried her off with his horses, crying aloud.
But, goddess, put an end to your great wailing. There is no need
for you to nurse an unappeasable anger to no purpose. No unfit
son-in-law among the immortals is Aidoneus, the Ruler of Many,
your own brother, of the same seed; and for his honour
he drew his share when the threefold division was first made,
to dwell among those over whom his lot made him ruler."

So speaking he called to his horses; and at his shout
they swiftly bore the quick chariot on, like long-winged birds.
But a grief more terrible and more savage came upon her spirit;
and then, in anger at the son of Cronos, lord of the dark clouds,
she withdrew from the assembly of the gods and from tall Olympus
and went among the cities of men and their rich tilled fields,
blurring her form a long while. And no man
who saw her knew her, nor any deep-girdled woman,
until she came to the house of skilled Celeus,
who was then the ruler of fragrant Eleusis.
She sat down near the road, her own heart in mourning,
at the Maiden Well, where the townspeople drew water,
in the shade — and above her an olive thicket had grown —
like an ancient woman, one who is barred from childbearing
and from the gifts of garland-loving Aphrodite,
such as are nurses to the children of kings who administer justice
and housekeepers in their echoing halls.
The daughters of Celeus, son of Eleusis, saw her
as they came for the easily drawn water, to carry it
in bronze pitchers to their father’s dear house —
four of them, like goddesses, holding the flower of girlhood:
Callidice and Cleisidice and lovely Demo
and Callithoe, who was the eldest of them all.
They did not know her: the gods are hard for mortals to see.
Standing near, they addressed her with winged words:
"Who are you, old woman, and from where, of the people born long ago?
Why have you gone off away from the town, and do not come near
the houses? There in the shadowy halls are women
as old as you and younger ones as well,
who would treat you kindly in word and in deed."

So they spoke; and the lady of goddesses answered them:

"Dear children, whoever you are of womankind,
greetings. I will tell you; it is no shame
to tell the truth to you who ask it.
Doso is my name; my lady mother gave it to me.
Now I have come from Crete over the wide back of the sea,
not willingly: by force and against my will
pirates carried me off. Then they
put in with their swift ship at Thoricus, and there the women
went ashore in a body, and the men with them,
and they set about a meal beside the ship’s stern-cables.
But my spirit had no desire for the honey-sweet supper.
I set out in secret across the dark mainland
and fled my overbearing masters, so that they should not
sell me, whom they had not bought, and profit by my price.
So I came here in my wandering, and I do not know at all
what land this is or who are born in it.
But may all who hold the halls of Olympus grant you
wedded husbands, and children born to you,
as parents wish. And you, girls, take pity on me,
and tell me this plainly, so that I may learn it,
kindly, dear children: to whose house shall I come,
of what man and woman, that I may work for them
willingly, at such work as an aged woman’s work is?
I could hold a newborn child in my arms
and nurse him well, and keep the house,
and spread the master’s bed in the innermost part
of the well-built chambers, and teach the women their work."
So spoke the goddess; and at once the unwed maiden answered her,
Callidice, the loveliest in form of Celeus’ daughters:
"Mother, what the gods give we men must endure of necessity,
grieved though we are; for they are far stronger than we.
I will tell you this plainly and name for you
the men who hold great power of honour here,
who lead the people and guard the battlements of the city
by their counsels and their straight judgements:
Triptolemus of the close-packed wits, and Diocles,
and Polyxenus, and blameless Eumolpus,
and Dolichus, and our own lordly father —
the wives of all of them keep their households.
Not one of these, at the very first sight of you,
would slight your look and turn you away from her house;
they will receive you, for you are like a god to see.
But if you will, wait here, while we go to our father’s house
and tell our deep-girdled mother Metaneira
all of this from beginning to end, in case she bids you
come to our house and not go searching the houses of others.
A late-born son of hers is being reared in the well-built hall,
a child of her old age, much prayed for and welcome.
If you were to rear him and he came to the measure of youth,
any woman who saw you would readily
envy you: such a nurse’s wage would she give you."

So she spoke; and the goddess bowed her head. And they
filled their shining vessels with water and carried them proudly.
Swiftly they reached their father’s great house, and quickly told
their mother what they had seen and heard. And she at once
bade them go and call her, at a wage beyond counting.
And they, like deer or heifers in the season of spring
that leap through a meadow when their heart has had its fill of fodder,
so they, holding up the folds of their lovely gowns,
darted down the hollow wagon-road; and their hair
streamed about their shoulders like the crocus flower.
They found the glorious goddess near the road, where they had left her
before; and then they led her to their dear father’s
house. She walked behind, her own heart in mourning,
veiled from the head down; and about the goddess
the dark robe swayed at her slender feet.
Quickly they came to the house of Zeus-nurtured Celeus,
and went through the portico to where their lady mother
sat by the pillar of the close-built roof,
holding her child at her breast, a new shoot. They ran to her;
but the goddess set her feet on the threshold, and her head
touched the roof-beam, and she filled the doorway with a divine light.
Awe and reverence and pale fear took hold of Metaneira;
she gave up her chair to her and bade her sit.
But Demeter, bringer of seasons, giver of splendid gifts,
would not sit down on the shining chair,
but waited in silence with her lovely eyes cast down,
until careful Iambe set out for her
a jointed seat, and threw a silvery fleece over it.
There she sat down and held her veil before her face with her hands.
A long while she sat on the stool, voiceless in her sorrow,
and greeted no one with a word or with a gesture,
but sat unlaughing, tasting neither food nor drink,
wasting with longing for her deep-girdled daughter,
until careful Iambe with her jesting,
mocking her again and again, turned the holy lady
to smile and to laugh and to keep a gracious spirit —
and Iambe pleased her moods in the after time as well.
Metaneira filled a cup with honey-sweet wine and offered it;
but she refused it, saying it was not lawful for her
to drink red wine; and she bade her mix barley-meal and water
with tender pennyroyal, and give her that to drink.
She made the kykeon and gave it to the goddess, as she was bidden;
and Deo of many titles received it for the rite’s sake.
And well-girdled Metaneira began to speak among them:
"Greetings, woman — for I do not think you come of low parents,
but of good; modesty and grace show plain in your eyes,
as in kings who administer justice.
But what the gods give we men must endure of necessity,
grieved though we are; for the yoke lies on our neck.
Now that you have come here, you shall have all that I have myself.
Rear me this child, whom the immortals granted me late
and beyond hope; he is much prayed for by me.
If you were to rear him and he came to the measure of youth,
any woman who saw you would readily
envy you: such a nurse’s wage would I give you."
Then Demeter of the fair crown answered her:

"And greetings to you also, woman, and may the gods grant you good things.
I will gladly take your child, as you bid me,
and rear him; and I do not think a nurse’s folly
will harm him, nor witchcraft, nor the Undercutter;
for I know a counter-cutting far stronger than the Woodcutter,
and I know a good safeguard against baneful witchcraft."

So speaking she took him to her fragrant breast
in her immortal arms; and the mother’s heart was glad.
So she reared in the halls the shining son of skilled Celeus,
Demophoon, whom well-girdled Metaneira bore;
and he grew like a god,
eating no bread, sucking no milk from his mother.
For by day Demeter of the beautiful crown
anointed him with ambrosia, as though he were born of a god,
breathing sweetly upon him and holding him at her breast;
but by night she would hide him in the fury of the fire, like a brand,
without his own parents’ knowing; and it was a great wonder to them
how he throve before his season, for he had the very look of the gods.
And she would have made him ageless and immortal,
had not well-girdled Metaneira in her folly
kept watch by night and spied from her fragrant chamber.
She shrieked and struck both her thighs,
in terror for her child, and was greatly blinded in her spirit,
and wailing she addressed her with winged words:

"Demophoon, my child, the stranger is hiding you deep in the fire,
and setting wailing and bitter sorrows upon me."

So she spoke, lamenting; and the shining goddess heard her.
Angered at her, Demeter of the beautiful crown
took the dear child, whom she had borne beyond hope in the halls,
and with her immortal hands set him down from her upon the ground,
having lifted him out of the fire, terribly enraged in her spirit,
and at the same time she spoke to well-girdled Metaneira:

"Men are ignorant and without foresight, unable to know beforehand
the portion of good that is coming to them, or of evil.
You too have been blinded past cure by your own folly.
Let the oath of the gods be my witness, the implacable water of Styx:
I would have made your dear child deathless and ageless
all his days, and given him imperishable honour.
Now there is no way for him to escape death and the fates.
Yet an imperishable honour will always be his, because he climbed
upon my knees and slept in my arms.
In due season, as the years come round,
the sons of the Eleusinians will join battle and dread combat
with one another for ever, all their days.
I am Demeter who holds honour, who is made the greatest
help and joy to immortals and to mortals alike.
Come now, let all the people build me a great temple, and an altar
beneath it, under the city and its steep wall,
above Callichorus, on the jutting hill.
And I myself will teach my rites, so that afterwards
you may perform them purely and appease my mind."

So speaking, the goddess changed her stature and her form
and thrust off old age; beauty breathed all about her;
a lovely fragrance spread from her sweet-smelling robes,
and far off a radiance shone from the goddess’s
immortal skin, and her yellow hair streamed down over her shoulders,
and the strong house was filled with brightness as with lightning.
She went out through the halls; and Metaneira’s knees gave way at once,
and for a long time she was speechless, and did not so much as remember
to lift her late-born child up from the floor.
His sisters heard his piteous voice
and sprang down from their well-spread beds. Then one of them
took the child up in her hands and laid him in her lap;
another kindled the fire; another rushed on her soft feet
to raise their mother out of the fragrant chamber.
They gathered about him and washed him as he struggled,
embracing him; but his spirit was not soothed,

for lesser nurses and foster-mothers held him now.
All night long they sought to appease the glorious goddess,
shaking with terror; and as soon as dawn appeared
they told the truth to wide-ruling Celeus,
as the goddess commanded, Demeter of the beautiful crown.
Then he called the countless people to assembly
and bade them make a rich temple for lovely-haired Demeter
and an altar on the jutting hill.
And very quickly they obeyed and heard him as he spoke,
and built as he commanded. And the child grew like a god.
But when they had finished and rested from their labour,
they went each man to his home. But yellow-haired Demeter
sat there apart from all the blessed ones
and stayed, wasting with longing for her deep-girdled daughter.
She made a most terrible year for men on the all-nourishing earth,
and a most savage one: the ground let no seed
come up, for Demeter of the fair crown kept it hidden.
Many a curved plough the oxen dragged over the fields in vain,
and much white barley fell into the earth to no purpose.
And now she would have destroyed the whole race of speaking men
with cruel famine, and robbed those who hold the halls of Olympus
of the glorious honour of their gifts and their sacrifices,
had not Zeus perceived it and taken thought in his spirit.
First he roused golden-winged Iris to summon
lovely-haired Demeter, who has a form much longed for.

So he spoke; and she obeyed Zeus, the son of Cronos, lord of the dark clouds,
and ran the distance between them swiftly on her feet.
She came to the citadel of fragrant Eleusis
and found dark-robed Demeter in her temple,
and she spoke to her and addressed her with winged words:

"Demeter, father Zeus, who knows imperishable things, calls you
to come among the tribes of the gods who live for ever.
Come then, and do not let my word from Zeus go unaccomplished."

So she spoke, entreating; but Demeter’s spirit was not persuaded.
Then the father sent out all the blessed gods who are for ever,
and they came in turn, one after another,
and called her, and offered her many beautiful gifts
and honours, †such as she might wish† to take among the immortals.
But no one could persuade her mind or her purpose,
so angry was her spirit; she refused their words unbendingly.
For she declared that she would never set foot
on fragrant Olympus, nor let the earth’s fruit come up,
until she saw with her own eyes her fair-faced daughter.
But when loud-thundering, far-seeing Zeus heard this,
he sent to Erebus the Slayer of Argus with his golden wand,
to win Hades over with soft words
and lead holy Persephone out of the misty dark
into the light among the gods, so that her mother
might see her with her eyes and give over her anger.
Hermes did not disobey, but at once down into the hidden places of the earth
he rushed in haste, leaving the seat of Olympus.
He found the lord within his house,
seated on a couch with his reverend consort,
who was much unwilling, in longing for her mother; and she, far off,
was devising a dread plan against the works of the blessed gods.
Standing near, the strong Slayer of Argus said to him:

"Hades of the dark hair, lord over the dead,
father Zeus has ordered me to bring noble Persephone
up out of Erebus among us, so that her mother
may see her with her eyes and cease from her anger
and her dread wrath against the immortals; for she is planning a great deed,
to destroy the feeble tribes of earth-born men
by hiding the seed beneath the ground, and to wither away the honours
of the immortals. She holds a dread anger, and does not mix
with the gods, but sits apart within her fragrant temple,
keeping the rocky citadel of Eleusis."

So he spoke; and Aidoneus, lord of those below, smiled
with his brows, and did not disobey the commands of Zeus the king.
Quickly he gave the order to wise Persephone:
"Go, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother,
keeping a gentle force and spirit in your breast,
and do not be downcast beyond all measure more than the rest.
I shall be no unfit husband for you among the immortals,
own brother to your father Zeus. And while you are here
you will rule over all that lives and moves,
and you will hold the greatest honours among the immortals.
There will be vengeance for all their days on those who wrong you,
who do not appease your force with sacrifices,
performing them purely and paying the gifts that are due."

So he spoke; and thoughtful Persephone rejoiced
and sprang up quickly for joy. But he himself,
secretly, gave her a honey-sweet pomegranate seed to eat,
looking about him, so that she should not stay for all her days
there beside reverend dark-robed Demeter.
Then Aidoneus, the Ruler of Many, harnessed his immortal
horses in front, beneath the golden chariot.
She mounted the car, and beside her the strong Slayer of Argus
took the reins and the whip in his own hands
and drove out through the halls; and the pair flew on, not unwilling.
Swiftly they finished the long road; and neither the sea
nor the water of rivers nor the grassy valleys
nor the mountain peaks checked the rush of the immortal horses,
but they went cutting the deep air above them.
He brought them to a halt where Demeter of the fair crown was waiting,
in front of the fragrant temple; and when she saw them
she darted forward like a maenad down a mountain shadowed with woods.
And Persephone, on the other side, when she saw the lovely eyes
of her mother, left the chariot and the horses
and leapt down to run, and fell on her neck and clung about her.
But while she still held her dear child in her arms,
her spirit suddenly suspected a trick, and she shuddered terribly
and left off her caresses, and at once asked her:
"Child, surely you did not taste any food
while you were below? Speak out, do not hide it, so that we both may know.

For if you did not, you will come back from hateful Hades
and live with me and with your father, the son of Cronos, lord of the dark clouds,
honoured by all the immortals.
But if you tasted, you will go back again beneath the hidden places of the earth
and dwell there a third part of the seasons of the year,
and the other two with me and with the rest of the immortals.
And when the earth blooms with the sweet-smelling flowers of spring,
of every kind, then out of the misty dark
you will rise again, a great wonder to gods and to mortal men.
And tell me how he carried you off into the misty dark,
and by what trick the strong Host of Many deceived you."
Then most beautiful Persephone answered her:

"Then I will tell you, mother, all of it truly.
When Hermes the helper came to me, the swift messenger,
from my father the son of Cronos and the other sons of Heaven,
bidding me come out of Erebus, so that seeing me with your eyes
you might cease from your anger and dread wrath against the immortals,
I sprang up at once for joy. But he, in secret,
put into my mouth a pomegranate seed, honey-sweet food,
and forced me against my will to taste it.
And how he snatched me away through the close cunning of the son of Cronos,
my own father, and went off carrying me beneath the hidden places of the earth —
I will tell it out, and go through all of it, as you ask.
We were all of us together in the lovely meadow —
Leucippe and Phaeno and Electra and Ianthe
and Melite and Iache and Rhodeia and Callirhoe
and Melobosis and Tyche and bud-faced Ocyrhoe
and Chryseis and Ianeira and Acaste and Admete
and Rhodope and Pluto and lovely Calypso
and Styx and Urania and charming Galaxaura
and Pallas who rouses battle and Artemis who pours arrows —
we were playing and plucking lovely flowers with our hands,
mixed together: soft crocus and irises and hyacinth
and rose-buds and lilies, a wonder to see,
and the narcissus, which the wide earth grew like a crocus.
I was plucking it in my delight; and the earth beneath
gave way, and out of it sprang the strong lord, the Host of Many.
He went carrying me down beneath the earth in his golden chariot,
much against my will; and I cried aloud with a shrill voice.
All this I tell you truly, grieved though I am."
So then all that day, with one mind between them,
they warmed each other’s heart and spirit greatly,
embracing; and the spirit left off its griefs.
They took joy from each other and gave it back again.
Hecate of the bright headband came near them,
and embraced the holy daughter of Demeter many times;
and from that time the lady has been her attendant and companion.
Then loud-thundering, far-seeing Zeus sent a messenger to them,
lovely-haired Rhea, to bring dark-robed Demeter
among the tribes of the gods; and he promised to give her
what honours she might choose among the immortal gods,
and he granted her that her daughter, as the year came round,
should spend a third part of it in the misty dark,
and the other two with her mother and the rest of the immortals.

So he spoke; and the goddess did not disobey the messages of Zeus.
Swiftly she darted down from the peaks of Olympus
and came to Rharion, the life-bearing udder of the ploughland
before, but at that time bearing no life at all: it stood idle
and wholly without leaf, for it kept the white barley hidden
by the designs of fair-ankled Demeter. But afterwards
it was soon to grow a mane of long ears of grain
as the spring waxed, and on the ground the rich furrows
were to be heavy with ears, and these to be bound in the sheaf-bands.
There she first set foot, coming from the barren upper air;
and gladly they saw each other, and rejoiced in their spirit.
And Rhea of the bright headband spoke to her thus:

"Come here, child. Loud-thundering, far-seeing Zeus calls you
to come among the tribes of the gods; and he has promised to give
what honours you may wish among the immortal gods.
And he has granted you that your daughter, as the year comes round,
shall spend a third part of it in the misty dark,
and the other two with you and with the rest of the immortals.

"So he declared it would be accomplished, and bowed his head upon it.
Come then, my child, and obey, and do not rage
unceasingly against the son of Cronos, lord of the dark clouds.
Make the life-bearing fruit grow at once for men."

So she spoke; and Demeter of the fair crown did not disobey.
At once she sent up the fruit from the rich-clodded fields;
and the whole wide earth grew heavy
with leaves and flowers. And she went to the kings who administer justice
and showed to Triptolemus and to Diocles, driver of horses,
and to the strength of Eumolpus and to Celeus, leader of the people,
the conduct of her rites, and declared her mysteries to them all —
to Triptolemus and Polyxenus, and to Diocles besides —
awful mysteries, which no one may transgress, or learn of,
or utter; for a great reverence of the gods holds the voice back.
Blessed is the man among men on earth who has seen these things;
but he who is uninitiate in the rites, who has no share in them, never has
a like portion once he is dead, down in the misty dark.
But when the shining goddess had taught them everything,
they went to Olympus, into the gathering of the other gods.
There they dwell beside Zeus who delights in thunder,
holy and revered. Greatly blessed is that man of those on earth
whom they gladly love;
at once they send Plutus to the hearth of his great house,
Plutus, who gives wealth to mortal men.
Come then, you who hold the people of fragrant Eleusis
and sea-girt Paros and rocky Antron,
lady, giver of splendid gifts, bringer of seasons, queen Deo,
you yourself and your most beautiful daughter Persephone:
grant me gladly, in return for my song, a livelihood that contents the heart.
And I will remember you and another song too.

I will remember, and not forget, Apollo who shoots from afar,
at whose coming through the house of Zeus the gods tremble;
and they all spring up from their seats as he draws near,
when he draws his shining bow.
Leto alone stays beside Zeus who delights in thunder;
she it is who unstrings the bow and closes the quiver,
and taking it in her hands from his strong shoulders
she hangs the bow up against the pillar of his father’s house
on a golden peg, and leads him to a throne and seats him.
Then his father gives him nectar in a golden cup,
welcoming his own son; and then the other gods
take their seats there. And the lady Leto rejoices,
because she bore a son who bears the bow and is strong.
Hail, blessed Leto, for you bore shining children,
lord Apollo and Artemis who pours arrows,
her in Ortygia, and him in rocky Delos,
as you leaned against the long ridge and the Cynthian hill,
close beside a palm tree, by the streams of Inopus.
How then shall I hymn you, who are in every way well worth the hymn?
For everywhere, Phoebus, the range of song is laid out for you,
both on the mainland that rears calves and among the islands.
All the lookout points please you, and the high headlands
of the lofty mountains, and the rivers running down to the sea,
and the shores that slope into the brine, and the harbours of the sea.
Shall I sing how Leto first bore you, a joy to mortals,
leaning against Mount Cynthus on the rocky island,
on sea-girt Delos? On either side the dark wave
came out onto the land before the shrill-blowing winds;
and from there you set out and are lord over all mortals.
All that Crete holds within it, and the people of Athens,
and the island of Aegina and Euboea famed for ships,
Aegae, and Peiresiae, and Peparethus by the sea,
and Thracian Athos and the topmost peaks of Pelion,
and Thracian Samos and the shadowy mountains of Ida,
Scyros and Phocaea and the steep hill of Autocane,
and well-built Imbros and smoky Lemnos,
and most holy Lesbos, the seat of Macar son of Aeolus,
and Chios, which lies in the sea the brightest of islands,
and rugged Mimas and the topmost peaks of Corycus,
and gleaming Claros and the steep hill of Aesagea,
and well-watered Samos and the sheer heights of Mycale,
and Miletus and Cos, the city of the Meropian men,
and steep Cnidos and windy Carpathos,
and Naxos and Paros and rocky Rhenaea —
over all that ground Leto came in her labour with the Far-Shooter,
asking whether any of the lands would make a home for her son.
But they trembled hard and were afraid, and not one dared
to receive Phoebus, rich in soil though she was,
until the lady Leto set foot on Delos
and questioned her, and addressed her with winged words:

"Delos, if only you would be the seat of my son,
Phoebus Apollo, and let a rich temple be founded in you —
no other will ever lay hands on you, nor pass you by;
and I do not think you will be rich in cattle or in sheep,
nor will you bear a vintage or grow plants past counting.
But if you hold the temple of Apollo who works from afar,
all men will bring you hecatombs,
gathering here, and the savour of fat will always rise
from you past telling, and you will feed those who hold you
out of a stranger’s hand, since there is no richness in your soil."

So she spoke; and Delos rejoiced, and answered her and said:

"Leto, most glorious daughter of great Coeus,
gladly would I receive the birth of the lord who shoots from afar;
for it is terribly true that I have an ill name
among men, and in this way I would become greatly honoured.
But I tremble at this saying, Leto, and I will not hide it from you.
For they say that Apollo will be exceedingly reckless,
and will greatly hold sway among the immortals
and among mortal men upon the grain-giving earth.
So I am terribly afraid in my mind and in my spirit
that when he first sees the light of the sun
he will despise the island, since my ground is truly rocky,
and overturn me with his feet and thrust me into the deeps of the sea,
where the great wave will wash over my head for ever,
and he will go to some other land that pleases him
to build his temple and his groves of trees;
and octopuses will make their lairs in me, and black seals
their untroubled houses, for want of people.
But if you would bring yourself, goddess, to swear a great oath
that he will build his most beautiful temple here first
to be an oracle for men, and only afterwards
[build his temples and his groves of trees]
among all men, since he will surely be of many names."
So she spoke; and Leto swore the great oath of the gods:
"Let Earth be witness of this now, and the wide Heaven above,
and the down-flowing water of Styx, which is the greatest
and most dreadful oath there is for the blessed gods:
truly here shall always be the fragrant altar
and precinct of Phoebus, and he will honour you above all."
But when she had sworn and completed the oath,
Delos rejoiced greatly at the birth of the lord who shoots from afar;
and Leto for nine days and nine nights was pierced
with pangs beyond hope. And all the goddesses were within,
all those who are the noblest — Dione and Rhea
and Ichnaean Themis and loud-groaning Amphitrite
and the other immortals, all but white-armed Hera;
for she sat in the halls of Zeus the cloud-gatherer.
Only Eileithyia, who brings the pangs of birth, had not heard;
for she sat on the peak of Olympus under golden clouds
by the contrivance of white-armed Hera, who held her back
out of jealousy, because lovely-tressed Leto was then
about to bear a son blameless and strong.
The goddesses sent Iris out from the well-built island
to fetch Eileithyia, promising her a great necklace
strung on golden threads, nine cubits long;
and they told her to call her apart from white-armed Hera,
lest Hera’s words should turn her back as she came.
When swift Iris, wind-footed, had heard this,
she set off at a run and quickly covered all the distance between.
And when she reached the seat of the gods, steep Olympus,
at once she called Eileithyia out of the hall to the door
and addressed her with winged words,
all of it, just as those who hold the halls of Olympus had bidden.
And she persuaded the spirit in her breast;
and they went, with steps like those of shy doves.
When Eileithyia, who brings the pangs of birth, set foot on Delos,
then the birth took hold of Leto, and she strained to bring him forth.
She threw her arms about the palm tree and braced her knees
on the soft meadow; and the earth beneath her smiled.
He leapt forth into the light, and all the goddesses cried aloud.
There, Phoebus of the cry, the goddesses washed you in fair water,
purely and cleanly, and wrapped you in a white cloth,
fine and new-made, and cast a golden band about you.
His mother did not suckle Apollo of the golden blade;
but Themis with her immortal hands set out for him
nectar and lovely ambrosia. And Leto rejoiced,
because she had borne a son who bears the bow and is strong.
But when, Phoebus, you had swallowed the immortal food,
the golden bands could not hold you as you struggled,
nor did the swaddling restrain you: all the fastenings came loose.
At once Phoebus Apollo spoke out among the immortal goddesses:

"Let the lyre be dear to me, and the curved bow,
and I will declare to men the unerring will of Zeus."

So speaking he began to walk upon the wide-wayed earth,
Phoebus of the unshorn hair, who shoots from afar; and all
the immortal goddesses were amazed. And all Delos with gold
[was laden, looking upon the offspring of Zeus and Leto,
in gladness, because the god had chosen her to make his home
of the islands and the mainland, and loved her more in his heart.]
flowered, as a mountain peak does with the blossom of the woods.
And you yourself, lord of the silver bow, far-shooting Apollo,
sometimes went up on rugged Cynthus,
and sometimes roamed among the islands and among men.
Many are your temples and your groves of trees;
all the lookout points are dear to you, and the high headlands
of the lofty mountains, and the rivers running down to the sea.
But in Delos, Phoebus, your heart takes the greatest delight,
where the long-robed Ionians gather for you
with their children and their honoured wives.
They delight you, remembering you, with boxing and dancing and song,
whenever they set up their contest.
A man would say they were immortal and ageless for ever,
whoever came upon them then, when the Ionians are all together;
for he would see the grace of them all, and delight his spirit
looking on the men and the fair-girdled women
and the swift ships and their many possessions.
And beyond that, a great wonder whose glory will never perish:
the Delian girls, the handmaids of him who shoots from afar.
When they have first hymned Apollo,
and then Leto and Artemis who pours arrows,
they remember the men and the women of long ago
and sing their hymn, and they charm the tribes of men.
They know how to mimic the voices of all men
and their clattering speech; each man would say
that he himself were speaking, so well is their fine singing fitted together.
Come then, may Apollo be gracious, and Artemis with him,
and hail to all of you. And remember me hereafter,
whenever any of the men on earth,
some stranger who has borne much, comes here and asks:
"Girls, which of the singers who comes here
is sweetest to you, and in whom do you take the most delight?"
Then all of you must answer, well and with one voice:
"A blind man, and he lives on rugged Chios;
all his songs will be the best in the time to come."
And we will carry your glory as far over the earth
as we range among the well-settled cities of men;
and they will believe it, since it is also the truth.
But I will not cease from hymning far-shooting Apollo
of the silver bow, whom lovely-haired Leto bore.
[To Pythian Apollo]
O lord, you hold Lycia and lovely Maeonia
and Miletus, a city of longing beside the sea;
and over wave-washed Delos you yourself are greatly lord.
The son of glorious Leto goes playing on his lyre,
the hollow lyre, toward rocky Pytho,
wearing immortal garments steeped in fragrance; and his lyre
under the golden plectrum makes a sound of longing.
From there, from earth to Olympus, quick as a thought,
he goes to the house of Zeus, into the gathering of the other gods.
At once the immortals turn their minds to the lyre and to song.
All the Muses together, answering one another with beautiful voice,
sing of the gods’ immortal gifts and of the endurances of men,
all that they bear at the hands of the immortal gods
as they live without foresight and without resource, unable
to find a cure for death or a defence against old age.
But the fair-tressed Graces and the kindly Seasons,
and Harmonia and Hebe and Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus,
dance, each holding the others by the wrist;
and among them sings and dances one neither ugly nor small,
but very tall to look at and wonderful in form,
Artemis who pours arrows, reared together with Apollo.
Among them Ares too and the keen-eyed Slayer of Argus
play; and Phoebus Apollo plays the lyre among them,
stepping finely and high; and a radiance shines about him,
the flashing of his feet and of his well-spun tunic.
And they take great delight in their spirit as they look on,
Leto of the golden tresses and Zeus the counsellor,
at their dear son playing among the immortal gods.
How then shall I hymn you, who are in every way well worth the hymn?
Shall I sing of you among the wooers, and in love,
how you went courting the Azantian girl
in rivalry with godlike Ischys, son of Elatus, rich in horses?
Or with Phorbas of the line of Triops, or with Ereutheus?
Or with Leucippus and the wife of Leucippus,
you on foot, he with horses? And Triops was not left behind.
Or how you first went over the earth in search
of a place of oracle for men, far-shooting Apollo?
First you came down from Olympus to Pieria;
you passed by sandy Lectum and the Aenianes
and through the Perrhaebi; and soon you came to Iolcus
and set foot on Cenaeum in Euboea famed for ships.
You stood on the Lelantine plain, but it did not please your heart
to build there a temple and groves of trees.
From there you crossed the Euripus, far-shooting Apollo,
and went up the holy green mountain; and soon from there you came
to Mycalessus, and to Teumessus with its grassy beds.
And you reached the seat of Thebe, clothed over in forest;
for no mortal yet lived in holy Thebe,
nor were there paths or roads then
across the wheat-bearing plain of Thebe, but forest held it.
From there you went on further, far-shooting Apollo,
and came to Onchestus, the shining grove of Poseidon.
There the newly broken colt takes breath, burdened though he is
with dragging the fine chariot; and the driver, good though he is,
leaps down from the car and goes on foot; and the horses for a while
rattle the empty chariot along, released from their master’s hand.
And if they break the chariot in the wooded grove,
they tend the horses, but tilt the car and leave it;
for that was the rite from the first. They pray to the lord,
and the god’s portion keeps the chariot from then on.
From there you went on further, far-shooting Apollo;
and then you came upon the Cephisus of the beautiful stream,
which pours its fair-flowing water out from Lilaea.
Crossing it, Far-Worker, and Ocalea of the many towers,
from there you came to grassy Haliartus.
You went on to Telphusa; and there the quiet place pleased you
to build a temple and groves of trees.
You stood very close to her and spoke this word to her:

"Telphusa, here I mean to build a most beautiful temple
to be an oracle for men, who will always
bring me perfect hecatombs here,
both those who hold the rich Peloponnese and those
who hold Europe and the sea-girt islands,
coming to consult me; and to all of them I would deliver
the unerring counsel, giving oracles in the rich temple."

So speaking, Phoebus Apollo laid out the foundations,
wide and very long, unbroken. And when Telphusa saw it
her heart was angered, and she spoke a word:
"Lord Phoebus, Far-Worker, let me put a word in your mind.
Since you mean to build here a most beautiful temple
to be an oracle for men, who will always
bring you perfect hecatombs here —
I will speak out, and you take it to heart:
the clatter of swift horses will trouble you always,
and the mules watering at my sacred springs;
there a man will rather want to look at
the well-made chariots and the clatter of swift-footed horses
than at the great temple and the many treasures within it.
But if you would be persuaded — and you are stronger and better
than I am, lord, and your strength is the greatest —
build at Crisa, in a fold of Parnassus.
There no fine chariots will be shaken about, nor will there be
any clatter of swift-footed horses about the well-built altar,
but even so the famous tribes of men would bring their gifts
to Iepaeon; and you, glad at heart,
would receive the fine offerings of the people who live round about."

So speaking she persuaded the mind of the Far-Shooter, so that
the glory on that ground should be Telphusa’s own, and not the Far-Shooter’s.
From there you went on further, far-shooting Apollo;
and you came to the city of the Phlegyae, men of violence,
who lived on the earth with no regard for Zeus,
in a fair glen near the Cephisian lake.
From there you went quickly on, rushing up the ridge,
and came to Crisa under snowy Parnassus,
a shoulder of the mountain turned toward the west, and above it
a cliff hangs over, and a hollow glen runs beneath,
rough ground. There lord Phoebus Apollo determined
to make his lovely temple, and he spoke a word:
"Here I mean to build a most beautiful temple
to be an oracle for men, who will always
bring me perfect hecatombs here,
both those who hold the rich Peloponnese
and those who hold Europe and the sea-girt islands,
coming to consult me; and to all of them I would deliver
the unerring counsel, giving oracles in the rich temple."

So speaking, Phoebus Apollo laid out the foundations,
wide and very long, unbroken. And upon them
Trophonius and Agamedes laid a threshold of stone,
the sons of Erginus, dear to the immortal gods;
and the countless tribes of men built the temple round about
with dressed stones, to be sung of for ever.
Near it is a spring of fair water, and there the lord,
the son of Zeus, killed the she-dragon with his strong bow,
a well-fed, huge, savage monster, who did much harm
to men upon the earth — much to the men themselves,
and much to their long-shanked sheep, for she was a bloody plague.
Once she took from golden-throned Hera and reared
Typhaon, dread and cruel, a plague to mortals;
whom Hera bore once in anger at father Zeus,
at the time when the son of Cronos brought forth glorious Athena
out of his head. The lady Hera was angry at once,
and spoke among the immortals gathered together:

"Hear me, all you gods and all you goddesses,
how Zeus the cloud-gatherer begins to dishonour me,
he first, after he made me his careful-minded wife.
And now, apart from me, he has borne grey-eyed Athena,
who stands out among all the blessed immortals;
while my own son Hephaestus was born feeble
among all the gods, shrivelled in the feet, whom I bore myself.
[a shame to me and a reproach in heaven, whom I myself]
took up in my hands and threw, and cast into the wide sea;
but Thetis of the silver feet, the daughter of Nereus,
took him up and cared for him among her sisters.
Would that she had done the blessed gods some other favour!
Hard-hearted schemer of many wiles, what will you devise next?
How did you dare to bear grey-eyed Athena alone?
Could I not have borne her? I was called yours all the same
among the immortals who hold the wide heaven.
Take care now that I do not devise some evil for you hereafter.
Indeed I too will now contrive that a son of mine
be born who will stand out among the immortal gods,
shaming neither your sacred bed nor my own.
I will not come to your bed; far away from you
I will keep my place among the immortal gods."

So speaking she went away apart from the gods, angry at heart.
Then at once ox-eyed lady Hera prayed,
and struck the ground with the flat of her hand and spoke:
"Hear me now, Earth, and wide Heaven above,
and you Titan gods who dwell beneath the earth
about great Tartarus, from whom come men and gods:
hear me now, all of you, and give me a child
apart from Zeus, in no way weaker than he in force,
but stronger, as far as far-seeing Zeus is stronger than Cronos."

So speaking she lashed the ground with her heavy hand;

and the life-bearing Earth stirred. When she saw it
she rejoiced in her spirit, for she thought it would be accomplished.
From that time on, for a whole year’s turning,
she never came to the bed of Zeus the counsellor,
nor to his richly wrought seat, where before
she used to sit beside him and take part in his close counsels;
but ox-eyed lady Hera stayed in her temples of many prayers
and took her pleasure in her offerings.
But when the months and the days were fulfilled
as the year came round again, and the seasons arrived,
she bore a thing like neither gods nor mortals,
Typhaon, dread and cruel, a plague to mortals.
At once ox-eyed lady Hera took him
and carried him and gave him, evil to evil; and the she-dragon received him.
He did much harm to the far-famed tribes of men.
Whoever met the she-dragon, his appointed day carried him off,
until lord Apollo who works from afar let fly at her
a strong arrow. Torn with hard pains,
she lay gasping heavily, rolling over the ground.
An unearthly noise arose past telling; and through the wood
she coiled thick this way and that, and left her spirit,
breathing out blood. And Phoebus Apollo cried in triumph:
"Now rot here on the earth that feeds men.
You at least will not live to be an evil bane to mortals
who eat the fruit of the many-feeding earth
and will bring perfect hecatombs here.
Neither Typhoeus nor the ill-named Chimaera
will keep cruel death from you: here on this spot
the black Earth and blazing Hyperion will rot you away."

So he spoke in triumph; and darkness covered her eyes.
And the sacred force of the Sun rotted her away there,
from which the place is now called Pytho; and men call the lord
Pythian by that name, because there on that spot
the force of the piercing Sun rotted the monster away.
And then Phoebus Apollo knew in his mind
that the fair-flowing spring had deceived him;
and he went to Telphusa in anger, and quickly arrived,
and stood very close to her and spoke this word to her:

"Telphusa, you were not, after all, to deceive my mind
and keep this lovely place and pour out your fair water.
Here the glory shall be mine as well, and not yours alone."

He spoke, and lord Apollo who works from afar thrust a crag upon her
with a landslide of stones, and hid her streams away,
and made an altar in the wooded grove
very close to the fair-flowing spring. There all men
pray to the lord under the name Telphusian,
because he shamed the streams of holy Telphusa.
And then Phoebus Apollo considered in his spirit
what men he should bring in as ministers of his rites,
to serve him in rocky Pytho.
While he was turning this over, he saw on the wine-dark sea
a swift ship, and in it were men many and noble,
Cretans from Minoan Cnossos, who perform the sacrifices
for the lord and announce the decrees
of Phoebus Apollo of the golden blade, whatever he says
in his oracles from the laurel under the glens of Parnassus.
They were sailing in their black ship on business and for goods
to sandy Pylos and to the men born at Pylos;
but Phoebus Apollo met them.
On the sea he sprang upon the swift ship in the likeness of a dolphin
and lay there, a monstrous thing, great and terrible.
Not one of them took it in his spirit so as to understand;
[they wanted to throw the dolphin out; but he shook the black ship]
this way and that, and made the ship’s timbers shudder.
They sat in silence in the ship, in fear;
they did not loose the gear about the hollow black ship,
nor did they lower the sail of the dark-prowed ship,
but as they had first set it with the ox-hide braces,
so they sailed on; and a rushing south wind drove the swift ship
from behind. First they passed Malea,
and along the Laconian land they came to the sea-crowned town
and to the place of the Sun who gladdens mortals,
Taenarum, where the thick-fleeced sheep of the lord Sun
always graze, and he holds a place of delight.
There they wanted to put in with the ship and go ashore
and consider the great marvel and see with their own eyes
whether the monster would stay on the deck of the hollow ship
or leap back into the fish-filled swell of the sea.
But the well-made ship would not obey her rudders;
she held her course on past the rich Peloponnese,
going her way; and lord Apollo who works from afar
guided her easily with his breath. Making her passage
she came to Arene and to lovely Argyphea
and to Thryon, the ford of Alpheus, and to well-built Aepy
and to sandy Pylos and to the men born at Pylos.
She went past Crounoi and Chalcis and past Dyme
and past shining Elis, where the Epeans rule.
When she was making for Pherae, exulting in the wind from Zeus,
the steep mountain of Ithaca showed to them out of the clouds,
and Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus.
But when she had passed by the whole Peloponnese,
and the boundless gulf of Crisa came into view,
the gulf that shuts off the rich Peloponnese,
there came a great west wind, clear out of a bright sky, by the will of Zeus,
rushing violently down from the upper air, so that with all speed
the ship might finish her running over the salt water of the sea.
Then they sailed back again toward the dawn and the sun,
and lord Apollo, the son of Zeus, led them.
They came to Crisa, clear to see, rich in vines,
into the harbour; and the seagoing ship grated on the sand.
There lord Apollo who works from afar sprang from the ship
in the likeness of a star at midday; and from him many
sparks flew off, and the flash of it reached to heaven.
He went down into his sanctuary, through the precious tripods.
There he kindled a flame, showing forth his shafts,
and the brightness held all Crisa; and the wives
of the men of Crisa and their fair-girdled daughters cried out
at Phoebus’s rush, for he cast great fear on every one.
From there he sprang back to the ship, flying like a thought,
in the likeness of a man vigorous and strong,
in his first youth, his broad shoulders wrapped in his hair;
and he spoke to them and addressed them with winged words:

"Strangers, who are you? From where do you sail the watery ways?
Is it on some business, or do you wander at random
over the sea like pirates, who rove about
staking their lives and bringing harm to men of other lands?
Why do you sit like this in your grief, and do not go ashore
or stow the gear of your black ship?
That is the custom of men who work for their bread,
when they come in from the sea to land in a black ship,
worn out with labour, and at once a longing
for sweet food takes hold of their hearts."

So he spoke, and put courage in their breasts.
And the leader of the Cretans answered him:

"Stranger — since you are not at all like mortal men,
neither in build nor in growth, but like the immortal gods —
health to you, and great greetings, and may the gods give you good things.
And tell me this truly, so that I may know it well:
what people is this? what land? what mortals are born here?
For we were sailing the great gulf with another course in mind,
to Pylos out of Crete, where we claim our race to be;
but now we have come in here with our ship, in no way willing,
longing for our homecoming, by another road, other ways.
But one of the immortals has brought us here against our will."
Then Apollo who works from afar answered them and said:

"Strangers, who lived about Cnossos of the many trees
before now — but now you will not return again,
each of you to his lovely city and his fine house and to
his dear wife; but here you will keep my rich temple,
honoured by many men.
I am the son of Zeus, and I declare that I am Apollo.
I brought you here over the great gulf of the sea
intending you no harm; but here you will keep my rich temple,
held in great honour by all men,
and you will know the counsels of the immortals, by whose will
you will be honoured continually, all your days.
Come then, obey me quickly, as I tell you.
First lower the sails and loose the ox-hide braces,
and then haul the swift ship up onto the shore,
and take out your goods and the gear of the balanced ship,
and make an altar on the beach of the sea;
and kindling fire upon it and offering white barley-meal, then pray,
standing together about the altar.
And as I first, on the misty sea,
sprang upon the swift ship in the likeness of a dolphin,
so pray to me as Delphinius; and the altar itself
shall be Delphinian and overlooking, for ever.
Then take your meal beside the swift black ship
and pour libation to the blessed gods who hold Olympus.
But when you have put from you the desire for honey-sweet food,
come with me and sing the Ie Paeon,
until you reach the place where you will keep my rich temple."

So he spoke; and they heard him well and obeyed.
First they lowered the sails and loosed the ox-hide braces,
and slackening the forestays they brought the mast down into its crutch;
and they themselves went out onto the beach of the sea.
They hauled the swift ship up out of the sea onto the land,
high on the sand, and stretched long props beneath her;
and they made an altar on the beach of the sea,
and kindling fire upon it and offering white barley-meal
they prayed, as he commanded, standing together about the altar.
Then they took their supper beside the swift black ship
and poured libation to the blessed gods who hold Olympus.
But when they had put from them the desire for drink and food,
they set out; and lord Apollo, the son of Zeus, led them,
holding the lyre in his hands and playing sweetly,
stepping finely and high. And the Cretans followed,
beating the ground, toward Pytho, and sang the Ie Paeon,
such as the paeans of the Cretans are, in whose breasts
the goddess Muse has put honey-voiced song.
Untiring they climbed the ridge on foot, and quickly came
to Parnassus and to the lovely place where they were to live,
honoured by many men.
He led them and showed them the holy sanctuary and the rich temple.
And the spirit was stirred in their breasts;
and the leader of the Cretans questioned him and said:

"Lord, since you have brought us far from our friends and our native land —
so, I suppose, it seemed good to your heart —
how are we now to live? We ask you to consider that.
This lovely place bears no vintage and has no good meadows,
such as to live well from and to share with men as well."
Then Apollo, the son of Zeus, smiled at them and said:

"Foolish men, wretched sufferers, who want cares
and hard labours and straits in your hearts —
I will tell you an easy word and set it in your minds.
Let each of you hold a knife in his right hand
and slaughter sheep continually: they will all be there in plenty,
all that the far-famed tribes of men bring to me.
Keep guard over the temple, and receive the tribes of men
as they gather here, and above all my straight will.
[Show it to mortals; and you, take my ordinance to heart.
But if any man in his folly does not obey, but disregards it,]
or if there is any idle word or any deed
and violence, as is the way of mortal men,
then other men will be your masters afterwards,
and under their compulsion you will be subdued all your days.
All has been told you; keep it in your own mind."
And so hail to you, son of Zeus and Leto;
and I will remember you and another song too.

Sing of Hermes, Muse, the son of Zeus and Maia,
lord of Cyllene and of Arcadia rich in flocks,
the helping messenger of the immortals, whom Maia bore,
the fair-tressed nymph, joined in love with Zeus,
a modest one. She avoided the company of the blessed gods
and lived within a deep-shadowed cave, where the son of Cronos
used to lie with the fair-tressed nymph in the dead of night,
while sweet sleep held white-armed Hera,
unnoticed by the immortal gods and by mortal men.
But when the purpose of great Zeus was being fulfilled,
and the tenth month was already fixed in the sky for her,
she brought him into the light, and remarkable deeds were done.
Then she bore a son of many turns, of coaxing cunning,
a robber, a driver of cattle, a leader of dreams,
a watcher by night, a lurker at doors, who was soon
to show forth famous deeds among the immortal gods.
Born at dawn, by midday he was playing the lyre,
and by evening he had stolen the cattle of far-shooting Apollo,
on the fourth of the month, the day the lady Maia bore him.
And when he had leapt from his mother’s immortal limbs,
he did not lie waiting long in the sacred cradle,
but sprang up and went looking for the cattle of Apollo,
stepping over the threshold of the high-roofed cave.
There he found a tortoise and won boundless wealth.
It was Hermes who first made a tortoise into a singer.
She met him at the outer door of the courtyard,
grazing the lush grass in front of the house,
walking with a swagger. The helping son of Zeus
looked at her and laughed, and at once spoke a word:

"A sign already, and one of great profit to me. I do not scorn it.
Greetings, lovely of shape, beater of the dance, companion of the feast,
welcome in your appearing. Where did you get this fine toy,
this glancing shell you wear, tortoise living in the hills?
But I will take you and carry you indoors: you will be some use to me,
and I will not dishonour you. You shall profit me first of all.
It is better to be at home, since out of doors is dangerous.
Alive, you will be a guard against baneful witchcraft;
and if you die, then you would sing very beautifully."
So he spoke; and lifting her with both hands at once
he went back inside the house, carrying the lovely toy.
There he maimed her with a chisel of grey iron
and gouged out the life of the mountain-dwelling tortoise.
As when a swift thought passes through the breast
of a man whom thronging cares keep turning about,
or as when glances whirl from the eyes,
so glorious Hermes planned word and deed together.
He cut stalks of reed to measure and fixed them,
piercing them through the back, through the shell of the tortoise.
About it he stretched an ox-hide by his own wits,
and set in the arms, and fitted a crossbar to the two of them,
and stretched seven strings of sheep-gut.
But when he had made it, carrying the lovely toy
he tried it note by note with the plectrum; and under his hand
it rang out terribly; and the god sang beautifully to it,
trying it out on the spur of the moment, as young men
in their prime throw taunts sideways at festivals.
He sang of Zeus the son of Cronos and of Maia of the fair sandals,
how they used to talk together in the intimacy of love,
naming his own birth and the renown of his name;
and he honoured the handmaids and the shining house of the nymph,
and the tripods about the house and the cauldrons in their abundance.
These were the things he sang; but his mind was set on others.
And he carried it and laid it down in the sacred cradle,
the hollow lyre. Then, craving meat,
he sprang down from the lookout out of the fragrant hall,
turning a sheer trick over in his mind, such as men
who are thieves go about in the season of black night.
The sun was sinking under the earth toward Ocean
with his horses and his chariot; and Hermes
came running to the shadowy mountains of Pieria,
where the immortal cattle of the blessed gods had their steading
and grazed the unspoiled and lovely meadows.
From these the son of Maia, the keen-eyed Slayer of Argus,
cut fifty loud-lowing cattle out of the herd.
He drove them by wandering ways across the sandy ground,
turning their tracks around; and he did not forget his cunning craft,
but reversed their hooves, the front ones behind
and the hind ones in front, and himself walked backwards.
And at once, on the sea sands, out of wicker-work
he plaited sandals past guessing and past thinking, marvellous work,
mixing together tamarisk and myrtle-like twigs.
Then, binding an armful of the fresh-sprouting wood together,
he tied the light sandals under his feet without harm,
leaves and all — the glorious Slayer of Argus had plucked them
in Pieria as he made ready for his journey,
like one in haste on a long road, improvising for himself.†
An old man saw him, building up his flowering vineyard,
as he made for the plain through Onchestus of the grassy beds;
and the son of glorious Maia spoke to him first:

"Old man, digging about your plants with your shoulders bent,
you will have much wine when all this bears fruit —
[if you obey, and keep it well in your mind:]
having seen, to be as one who has not seen, and deaf when you have heard,
and to be silent, so long as nothing of your own is harmed."
Saying that much, he drove the strong heads of cattle on together.
Over many shadowy mountains and echoing glens
and flowering plains glorious Hermes drove them.
The dark, uncanny night, his helper, was ending —
the most of it — and dawn, that sets men to work, was coming on fast;
and the shining Moon had newly climbed her watch-place,
daughter of lord Pallas, son of Megamedes.
Then the strong son of Zeus drove the broad-browed cattle
of Phoebus Apollo to the river Alpheus.
Untired they came to the high-roofed steading
and the watering troughs in front of the splendid meadow.
There, when he had fed the loud-lowing cattle well on fodder
and driven them all together into the steading in a body,
still cropping clover and dewy galingale,
he gathered much wood together and sought out the craft of fire.
He took a fine branch of laurel and stripped it with iron,
fitted to his palm; and hot breath came up from it.
It was Hermes who first gave men fire-sticks and fire.
He took many dry logs, thick ones, and heaped them
in abundance in a pit in the ground; and the flame shone out,
sending far off the blast of a great burning fire.
And while the force of famous Hephaestus kindled the fire,
he dragged out of doors two of the shambling crook-horned cattle,
close to the fire; and great power went with him.
He threw them both on their backs on the ground, panting,
and leaned over and rolled them, having pierced through their life.
He added work to work, cutting up the meat rich with fat,
and roasted it, pierced on wooden spits —
the flesh together and the chine that is the portion of honour and the black blood
shut up in the guts; and these lay there on the spot.
He stretched the hides out on a rugged rock,
as they are grown to this day, long after,
a long while since then, past reckoning. Then
Hermes, glad at heart, dragged the rich meats
onto a smooth flat stone and divided them into twelve portions
assigned by lot, and to each he added a perfect share of honour.
Then glorious Hermes longed for the rite of the meat;
for the sweet smell wore at him, immortal though he was;
but even so his lordly spirit would not be persuaded,
longing though he was, to let it pass† down his sacred throat.
But he laid it away in the high-roofed steading,
the fat and the abundant meat, and quickly hoisted it high up,
a token of his fresh theft; and gathering dry wood upon it
he destroyed the feet and the heads entire with the breath of the fire.
But when the god had finished everything as it needed to be,
he threw the sandals into the deep-eddying Alpheus,
and quenched the embers, and made the black ash into sand,
all night long; and the fair light of the Moon shone down.
Quickly he came back again to the bright peaks of Cyllene
at dawn, and on the long road no one met him,
neither of the blessed gods nor of mortal men,
and no dogs barked. Hermes the helper, son of Zeus,
turned sideways and slipped in through the keyhole of the hall
like an autumn breeze, like a mist.
He made straight on and came to the rich inner room of the cave,
stepping softly, for he made no noise, as one does on a floor.
In haste glorious Hermes went to his cradle,
wrapped his swaddling about his shoulders, and like a little
child he lay, playing with the cloth about his knees in his hands,
keeping the lovely tortoise-shell close on his left hand.
But the god did not escape his mother, the goddess, and she spoke:
"You schemer of many wiles, why do you come from somewhere
at this hour of the night, dressed in shamelessness? Now I think
you will soon go out through the doorway with hopeless bonds
about your ribs, in the hands of the son of Leto —
or else you will be off thieving through the glens between.
Be off with you. Your father begot you as a great trouble
to mortal men and to the immortal gods."
Then Hermes answered her with words of profit:

"Mother of mine, why do you try to frighten me like this, as if I were
a helpless child who knows very few wicked things in his mind,
a frightened one who cowers at his mother’s scoldings?
I shall take up whatever craft is the best,
shepherding myself and you for ever. And we two will not put up
with staying here without gifts and without prayers
among the immortal gods, as you order.
It is better to be all one’s days in the company of the immortals,
rich, wealthy, with abundant harvest, than to sit at home
in a murky cave. And as for honour,
I too will enter into the same rite as Apollo.
And if my father will not give it, then I for my part
will try — and I can — to be the chief of thieves.
And if the son of glorious Leto comes searching for me,
I think something else, and greater, will meet him.
For I will go to Pytho to break into his great house;
from there I will plunder tripods in plenty, most beautiful ones,
and cauldrons, and gold, and gleaming iron in plenty,
and clothing in quantity. You shall see it, if you like."
So they spoke to one another in words,
the son of aegis-bearing Zeus and the lady Maia.
And early-born Dawn, bringing light to mortals,
rose from deep-flowing Ocean. And Apollo
came on his way to Onchestus, the much-loved grove,
the holy place of the loud-roaring Holder of the Earth. There he found
the old man pasturing his beast beside the gateway of his enclosure.
The son of glorious Leto spoke to him first:

"Old man, bramble-cutter of grassy Onchestus,
I have come here from Pieria looking for cattle,
all of them cows, all with crooked horns,
out of the herd. The bull was grazing alone, apart from the rest,
dark of coat; and four bright-eyed dogs followed behind,
of one mind, like men. These were left behind,
the dogs and the bull, and that is a great wonder;
but the cows went off just as the sun was setting,
out of the soft meadow, away from the sweet pasture.
Tell me this, aged man born long ago, if anywhere you have seen
a man making his way along after these cattle."
And the old man answered him and said:

"Friend, it is hard to tell all that a man may see with his eyes;
for many travellers make their way along this road,
some of them bent on much mischief, others on very good things,
as they come and go; and it is hard to know each one.
But I was digging all day long until the sun went down
about the slope of my vineyard plot;
and I thought I noticed a child, good sir, though I do not know it clearly —
whoever the child was, he was following fine-horned cattle,
an infant, and he had a staff; and he kept turning as he walked.
He was driving them backwards, with their heads facing him."
So spoke the old man; and hearing it he went on his way the faster.
He marked a long-winged bird, and knew at once
that the thief was a son born to Zeus the son of Cronos.
In haste lord Apollo, the son of Zeus, darted
to holy Pylos, looking for the shambling cattle,
his broad shoulders wrapped in a dark cloud.
The Far-Shooter saw the tracks and spoke a word:
"Ah me, this is a great wonder that I see with my eyes.
These are indeed the tracks of straight-horned cattle,
but they are turned back toward the asphodel meadow.
These steps are neither a man’s nor a woman’s,
nor a grey wolf’s, nor a bear’s, nor a lion’s,
nor do I think they belong to a shaggy-necked Centaur,
whoever it is that strides such monstrous strides on swift feet.
Strange on this side of the road, and stranger still on that."

So speaking, lord Apollo, the son of Zeus, darted off;
and he came to Mount Cyllene, clothed in forest,
to the deep-shadowed hiding place in the rock, where the immortal
nymph gave birth to the child of Zeus the son of Cronos.
A lovely fragrance spread through the holy mountain,
and many long-shanked sheep were grazing the grass.
There, in haste, far-shooting Apollo himself came down
over the stone threshold into the murky cave.
And when the son of Zeus and Maia saw him,
far-shooting Apollo, angry about his cattle,
he burrowed down into his fragrant swaddling. As wood-ash
covers over a great bed of embers from tree-stumps,
so Hermes, seeing the Far-Worker, curled himself up.
He drew his head and his hands and his feet into a small space,
like a child fresh from the bath courting sweet sleep,
though in truth he was wide awake; and he held the tortoise under his arm.
But the son of Zeus and Leto knew, and was not deceived about
the most beautiful mountain nymph and her dear son,
the little child wrapped in his cunning shifts.
Peering into every corner of the great house,
he took the shining key and opened three inner chambers
full of nectar and of lovely ambrosia;
and much gold and silver lay within,
and many crimson and silvery garments of the nymph,
such as the sacred houses of the blessed gods hold within them.
Then, when the son of Leto had searched the recesses of the great house,
he addressed glorious Hermes with words:

"Child, lying there in the cradle, tell me where my cattle are,
and quickly; or the two of us will soon fall out in unseemly fashion.
For I will take you and throw you into misty Tartarus,
into the deadly and helpless dark; and neither your mother
nor your father will release you into the light, but under the earth
you will go your way, a leader among little men."
Then Hermes answered him with words of profit:

"Son of Leto, what harsh word is this you have spoken?

And do you come here looking for cattle of the fields?
I did not see them, I did not learn of them, I heard no word of them from another.
I could not inform on them, I could not earn the informer’s fee.
I am not like a driver of cattle, a strong man.
That is not my work; other things have concerned me till now.
Sleep is my concern, and my mother’s milk,
and having swaddling about my shoulders, and warm baths.
Let no one learn how this quarrel arose;
it would be a great wonder among the immortals
that a newborn child should pass out through the doorway
after cattle of the fields. What you say is unbecoming.
I was born yesterday; my feet are soft, and the ground underneath is rough.
But if you wish, I will swear a great oath by my father’s head:
I declare that I am not the guilty one myself,
and that I have not seen anyone else stealing your cattle,
whatever these cattle are — I only hear the report of them."

So he spoke, and with a rapid twinkling of his eyelids
he kept flinging his brows about, looking this way and that,
whistling long, like a man who has heard an empty tale.
And Apollo who works from afar laughed softly and said to him:

"My dear cheat and schemer, I think you will very often
break into well-appointed houses by night
and set more than one man on the floor with nothing,
stripping the house without a sound — such is your talk.
And you will trouble many shepherds of the fields
in the glens of the mountain, whenever, craving meat,
you come upon their herds and their fleecy sheep.
But come — unless you want to sleep your last and final sleep,
get down out of the cradle, companion of black night.
For this is the privilege you will have among the immortals hereafter:
you will be called the chief of thieves for all your days."

So he spoke, and Phoebus Apollo took the child and carried him.
But the strong Slayer of Argus, having taken thought,
let fly an omen as he was lifted in his hands,
a hard-working servant of the belly, a reckless messenger.
And straight after it he sneezed. Apollo heard,
and dropped glorious Hermes from his hands onto the ground.
He sat down in front of him, eager as he was to be on the road,
mocking Hermes, and spoke this word to him:

"Take heart, little swaddled one, son of Zeus and Maia.
I shall find the strong heads of my cattle even so,
by these omens; and you shall lead the way."

So he spoke; and Cyllenian Hermes sprang up quickly,
going in haste; and he pushed with both hands at his ears
the swaddling wrapped about his shoulders, and spoke:

"Where are you carrying me, Far-Worker, most violent of all the gods?
Is it for your cattle that you harry me like this in your anger?
Ah me, I wish the whole breed of cattle would perish. For I did not
steal your cows, nor have I seen anyone else who did,
whatever these cattle are — I only hear the report of them.
Give judgement and take it before Zeus the son of Cronos."
But when they had disputed every point of it in detail,
Hermes the herdsman and the shining son of Leto,
each with a mind of his own — the one with the truth on his side,
not unjustly seizing glorious Hermes over the cattle,
while the Cyllenian with his tricks and his coaxing words
wanted to deceive the god of the silver bow —
but when, for all his own devices, he found one as full of resource,
then he walked in haste across the sand,
in front, and behind him came the son of Zeus and Leto.
Quickly the most beautiful children of Zeus reached the summit
of fragrant Olympus, to their father the son of Cronos;
for there the scales of justice were set for them both.
A gathering held snowy Olympus, and the imperishable
immortals were assembling after golden-throned Dawn.
Hermes and Apollo of the silver bow took their stand
before the knees of Zeus; and Zeus who thunders on high
questioned his shining son and spoke this word to him:

"Phoebus, from where are you driving this satisfying plunder,
a newborn child with the look of a herald about him?
This is a weighty business that has come before the gods’ assembly."
Then lord Apollo who works from afar answered him:

"Father, you will soon hear a tale that is not a slight one,
though you mock me as though I alone were greedy for plunder.
I have found this child here, an out-and-out ransacker,
in the mountains of Cyllene, after covering much ground —
a mocker, such as I have never seen among the gods,
nor among the men who go thieving on the earth.
He stole my cattle out of the meadow and went off driving them
at evening along the shore of the loud-roaring sea,
driving them straight for Pylos. And the tracks were of two kinds, monstrous,
such as to wonder at, the work of some proud god.
For the black dust showed the cattle’s steps
turned back the wrong way, toward the asphodel meadow;
and he himself, off the road, a creature past dealing with, went neither on his feet
nor on his hands across the sandy ground,
but having some other device he wore his path
in such monstrous marks, as if a man walked on slender oak trees.
Now so long as he was pressing on across the sandy ground,
all the tracks showed very plainly in the dust;
but when he had crossed the great stretch of sand,
the trail of the cattle, and his own too, quickly became untraceable
over the hard ground. But a mortal man noticed him
driving the broad-browed breed of cattle straight for Pylos.
But when he had shut them up quietly,
and juggled about the road with fire, this way and that,
he lay down in his cradle, like black night,
in the murky cave, down in the gloom; not even an eagle
with his keen glare would have made him out. And often with his hands
he wiped his eyes as he worked at his trickery.
And he himself at once spoke out flatly:

’I did not see them, I did not learn of them, I heard no word of them from another,
nor could I inform on them, nor could I earn the informer’s fee.’"
So speaking, Phoebus Apollo sat down;
and Hermes on the other side answered with a word,
and pointed toward the son of Cronos, the marshal of all the gods:
"Father Zeus, I will tell you the truth of it,
for I am truthful and do not know how to lie.
He came to our house looking for his shambling cattle
today, just as the sun was newly rising.
He brought no witnesses of the blessed gods, and no observers,
and ordered me to inform, under great compulsion,
and threatened me again and again to throw me into wide Tartarus,
because he has the tender flower of glory-loving youth,
while I was born yesterday — and he knows this himself —
and am not at all like a driver of cattle, a strong man.
Believe me — for you claim to be my own dear father —
that I did not drive his cattle home, so may I prosper,
and did not step over the threshold. This I say exactly.
I greatly revere the Sun and the other divinities,
and I love you, and I stand in awe of him. You know yourself
that I am not to blame; and I will swear a great oath besides:
no, by these well-adorned porches of the immortals!
And some day I shall pay him back for this pitiless hunt,
strong though he is. But you, help the younger."

So spoke the Cyllenian Slayer of Argus, with a wink,
and he kept his swaddling on his arm and did not throw it off.
And Zeus laughed out loud, seeing the mischief-making child
denying the business of the cattle so well and so knowingly.
He ordered them both, with one mind between them,
to search, and Hermes the guide to lead the way
and to show the place, without harm in his mind,
where he had hidden the strong heads of cattle.
The son of Cronos nodded, and shining Hermes obeyed;
for the mind of aegis-bearing Zeus persuades easily.
The two most beautiful children of Zeus hurried
and came to sandy Pylos, to the ford of Alpheus;
they reached the fields and the high-roofed steading
where the goods had been tended in the hour of night.
There Hermes went along the rocky cave
and drove the strong heads of cattle out into the light.
But the son of Leto, looking aside, caught sight of the hides
on the sheer rock, and quickly asked glorious Hermes:
"How were you able, schemer, to cut the throats of two cows,
newborn and an infant as you are? I myself
wonder at what your strength will be hereafter. There is no need
for you to grow much taller, Cyllenian, son of Maia."
So he spoke, and twisted strong bonds in his hands,
[meaning to bind Hermes with strong withies.
But the bonds would not hold him, and the withies fell far away]
of the willow; and they took root at once under his feet in the ground,
there on the spot, twisted in and out of one another,
easily, and over all the cattle of the fields,
by the will of thieving-minded Hermes. And Apollo
looked and was amazed. Then the strong Slayer of Argus
glanced sidelong over the ground, with fire flashing in his eyes,
meaning to hide it away. But the son of glorious Leto,
the Far-Shooter, he soothed very easily, just as he wished,
strong though he was. He took the lyre on his left hand
and tried it note by note with the plectrum; and under his hand
it rang out terribly. And Phoebus Apollo laughed
for gladness, and the lovely sound of that unearthly
voice went through his heart, and a sweet longing took hold of him
as he listened in his spirit. Playing sweetly on the lyre
the son of Maia took his stand, emboldened, on the left
of Phoebus Apollo; and soon, playing clearly,
he sang out in prelude — and a lovely voice followed his playing —
declaring the immortal gods and the dark earth,
how they first came to be and how each drew his portion.
First among the gods he honoured Mnemosyne in his song,
the mother of the Muses, for the son of Maia was her portion;
and the rest of the immortal gods, by seniority and as each
was born, the shining son of Zeus honoured,
telling everything in order, with the lyre on his arm.
And a helpless desire took hold of Apollo’s spirit in his breast,
and he spoke to him and addressed him with winged words:

"Cattle-slayer, contriver, hard worker, companion of the feast,
what you have busied yourself with here is worth fifty cows.
I think we shall settle our quarrel quietly after this.
But come now, tell me this, son of Maia of the many turns:
have these marvellous works been with you from your birth,
or did one of the immortals or of mortal men
give you the splendid gift and teach you the divine song?
For I hear this wonderful new-uttered sound,
which I say no one has ever known, neither any of men
nor any of the immortals who hold the halls of Olympus,
except you, thief, son of Zeus and Maia.
What art is this, what music for cares past remedy,
what practice? For here in truth are all three at once
to take: gladness and love and sweet sleep.
For I too am a follower of the Olympian Muses,
whose concern is dancing and the shining path of song
and the flourishing measure and the lovely roar of pipes;
but nothing else has ever so held my mind,
of all the accomplishments that go round at the feasts of the young.
I marvel at this, son of Zeus, at how sweetly you play.
And now, since small as you are you know famous devices,
sit down, my friend, and give ear to the word of your elders.
For now there will be glory for you among the immortal gods,
for you yourself and for your mother. This I say exactly:
yes, by this javelin of cornel-wood, I will surely set you
a glorious and prosperous leader among the immortals,
and give you splendid gifts, and to the end I will not deceive you."
Then Hermes answered him with words of profit:

"You question me carefully, Far-Worker; and I do not begrudge you
your entering into my art at all.
Today you shall know it. I want to be kind to you
in counsel and in speech; you know everything well in your mind.
For you sit first among the immortals, son of Zeus,
noble and strong; and Zeus the counsellor loves you
out of all right, and has granted you splendid gifts.
They say that you have learned honours from the voice of Zeus,
and prophecy, Far-Worker, from Zeus, and all the oracles.
Of these I myself have now learned that you are very rich.
It is yours for the taking, to learn whatever you desire.
But since your spirit is set on playing the lyre,
sing and play and give yourself to splendour,
taking it from me; and you, friend, grant me glory.
Sing well, holding in your hands this clear-voiced companion
who knows how to speak beautifully and well and in order.
From now on carry her at your ease to the flourishing feast
and the lovely dance and the glory-loving revel,
a gladness by night and by day. Whoever questions her
with skill and wisdom, having learned her,
she speaks and teaches all manner of things delightful to the mind,
easily, played with in gentle familiarity,
and shunning the drudgery of hard labour. But whoever
questions her violently at first, being ignorant,
will only chatter idly and to no purpose thereafter.
It is yours for the taking, to learn whatever you desire.
And I will give her to you, shining son of Zeus;
and we for our part will pasture the cattle of the fields
on the mountain and on the horse-rearing plain, Far-Worker.
From there the cows, mated with the bulls, will bear in plenty,
females and males mixed together. And there is no need
for you, keen for gain though you are, to be so violently angry."

So speaking he held it out; and Phoebus Apollo took it,
and willingly put the shining whip into Hermes’ hands
and charged him with the herding; and the son of Maia received it
gladly. And taking the lyre on his left hand,
the shining son of Leto, lord Apollo who works from afar,
tried it with force with the plectrum; and beneath his hand
it rang out terribly; and the god sang beautifully to it.
Then they turned the cattle back toward the holy meadow;
and they themselves, the most beautiful children of Zeus,
hurried back to snowy Olympus,
taking their delight in the lyre. And Zeus the counsellor rejoiced,
and brought them both into friendship. And Hermes
loved the son of Leto continually, as he does even now,
in token of which he put the lyre into the Far-Shooter’s hands,
the lovely lyre, having learned it; and Apollo played it on his arm.
And Hermes for his part worked out the art of another skill:
he made the sound of shepherd’s pipes, that can be heard far off.
And then the son of Leto spoke this word to Hermes:

"I am afraid, son of Maia, guide, schemer of many wiles,
that you will steal both my lyre and my curved bow;
for you hold from Zeus the office of establishing works
of exchange among men over the all-nourishing earth.
But if you would bring yourself to swear the great oath of the gods,
either with a nod of the head or by the mighty water of Styx,
you would do everything that is pleasing and dear to my heart."
And then the son of Maia promised with a nod
never to steal what the Far-Shooter had acquired,
nor ever to come near his close-built house. And Apollo
the son of Leto nodded to a bond of union and friendship,
that none other among the immortals would be dearer to him,
neither god nor man born of Zeus. And a perfect
[eagle the father sent; and he swore it: "Truly you alone]
I will make the token of the immortals, and of all of them together,
trusted by my heart and honoured. And afterwards
I will give you a most beautiful staff of prosperity and wealth,
golden, three-leafed, that will keep you from harm
and accomplish all the ordinances of words and of deeds
of good, all that I claim to have learned from the voice of Zeus.
But the prophecy you ask of me, best of men, nursling of Zeus,
it is not ordained that you should learn it, nor any other
of the immortals; for the mind of Zeus knows it. And I for my part
gave my pledge and nodded and swore a strong oath
that no other of the gods who live for ever, apart from me,
should know the close-minded counsel of Zeus.
And you, brother of the golden wand, do not order me
to declare the oracles, all that far-seeing Zeus devises.
As for men, I shall harm one and help another,
turning about the unenviable tribes of men in many ways.
And whoever comes by the voice and the wings of birds
that bring things to accomplishment, he shall profit by my voice;
that man shall profit by my voice, and I will not deceive him.
But whoever trusts to idle-talking birds
and wants to question my prophecy against the sense of it,
and to understand more than the gods who are for ever —
I say his road is wasted. And I would take his gifts all the same.
But I will tell you another thing, son of glorious Maia
and of aegis-bearing Zeus, helping spirit of the gods.
There are certain holy ones, sisters born together,
maidens, exulting in their swift wings,
three of them, their heads sprinkled with white barley-meal.
They live in houses under a fold of Parnassus,
teachers of a divination apart from mine, which I practised
over the cattle while still a boy; and my father took no account of it.
From there they fly this way and that,
feeding on honeycomb, and they bring each thing to pass.
When they are in a frenzy, having eaten the pale honey,
they are willing to speak the truth readily;
but if they are deprived of the sweet food of the gods,
then they lie, buzzing in and out among one another.
These I give to you. Question them exactly
and delight your own mind; and if you teach a mortal man,
he will often listen to your voice, if he has the luck.
Take these, son of Maia, and the crook-horned cattle of the fields,
and have the care of horses and of hard-working mules."
[So he spoke; and from heaven father Zeus himself set
fulfilment on his words; and he gave him charge of all birds]
and of bright-eyed lions and white-tusked boars
and dogs and flocks, all that the wide earth rears;
and that glorious Hermes should be lord over all herds,
and be the one appointed messenger to Hades,
who, though he gives nothing, will give him no small privilege.
So lord Apollo loved the son of Maia
with every kind of friendship, and the son of Cronos added his favour.
He keeps company with all mortals and immortals.
He helps a little, but endlessly he cheats
the tribes of mortal men, through the dark of the night.
And so hail to you, son of Zeus and Maia;
and I will remember you and another song too.

Muse, tell me of the works of Aphrodite rich in gold,
the Cyprian, who rouses sweet desire in the gods
and subdues the tribes of mortal men
and the birds that fly in the sky and all the beasts,
all the many that the dry land rears and all that the sea rears.
The works of well-crowned Cytherea are the concern of them all.
But there are three minds she cannot persuade or deceive.
First, the daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus, grey-eyed Athena;
for the works of Aphrodite rich in gold do not please her,
but wars please her, and the work of Ares,
the mellay and the battle, and the care of splendid crafts.
She first taught the craftsmen of the earth
to make carriages and chariots wrought with bronze;
and she taught the soft-skinned girls in their halls
the splendid crafts, setting them in the mind of each.
Nor does laughter-loving Aphrodite ever subdue in love
Artemis of the golden shafts, the loud huntress.
For the bow pleases her, and killing wild beasts in the mountains,
and the lyre and the dance and the piercing cries of women,
and shadowy groves and the city of just men.
Nor do the works of Aphrodite please the modest maiden
Hestia, whom crooked-counselling Cronos begot first,
and last again, by the will of aegis-bearing Zeus —
the lady whom Poseidon and Apollo courted.
But she would not have it at all, and refused unbendingly,
and swore a great oath, which has been fulfilled,
touching the head of her father, aegis-bearing Zeus,
that she would be a maiden all her days, that shining goddess.
Father Zeus gave her a fine privilege instead of marriage,
and she sits in the middle of the house and takes the richest portion.
In all the temples of the gods she holds her honour,
and among all mortals she is made the eldest of the gods.
These are the minds she cannot persuade or deceive.
But of the rest there is nothing that has escaped Aphrodite,
neither of the blessed gods nor of mortal men.
She has even led astray the mind of Zeus who delights in thunder,
who is the greatest and has drawn the greatest honour.
Whenever she wishes, she cheats even his close mind
and easily joins him with mortal women,
making him forget Hera, his sister and his wife,
who is far the best in form among the immortal goddesses.
Crooked-counselling Cronos and her mother Rhea
bore her most glorious; and Zeus, who knows imperishable counsels,
made her his honoured, careful-minded wife.
But into Aphrodite’s own heart Zeus cast sweet desire
to lie with a mortal man, so that with all speed
not even she should be kept from a mortal bed,
and should not boast one day among all the gods,
laughing sweetly, laughter-loving Aphrodite,
how she had joined the gods with mortal women,
and they had borne mortal sons to immortals,
and how she had mixed goddesses with mortal men.
So he cast sweet desire for Anchises into her heart,
who at that time on the high peaks of Ida of the many springs
was herding cattle, in body like the immortals.
When laughter-loving Aphrodite saw him
she fell in love, and a violent desire took hold of her mind.
She went to Cyprus and entered her fragrant temple
at Paphos, where she has her precinct and her fragrant altar.
There she went in and closed the shining doors;
and there the Graces washed her and anointed her with oil,
immortal oil, such as gleams upon the gods who are for ever,
the sweet ambrosial oil that had been perfumed for her.
When she had clothed her body well in all her fine garments
and adorned herself with gold, laughter-loving Aphrodite
darted toward Troy, leaving sweet-smelling Cyprus,
making her way swiftly, high up among the clouds.
She came to Ida of the many springs, the mother of wild beasts,
and went straight for the steading across the mountain. Behind her,
fawning, came grey wolves and bright-eyed lions,
bears and swift leopards insatiable for deer,
they came; and seeing them she took delight in her spirit
and cast desire into their breasts; and all of them together
lay down two by two in the shadowy dens.
She herself came to the well-built huts,
and found him left behind at the steading, alone, apart from the rest —
the hero Anchises, who had his beauty from the gods.
The others had all gone off with the cattle to the grassy pastures;
but he was left at the steading, alone, apart from the rest,
and paced this way and that, playing piercingly on the lyre.
Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus stood before him
in the stature and the look of an unwed girl,
so that he should not be frightened when he saw her with his eyes.
And Anchises looked and took her in and marvelled
at her look and her stature and her glistening clothes.
For she wore a robe brighter than the gleam of fire,
beautiful, golden, all patterned; and like the moon
it shone about her soft breasts, a wonder to see.
She wore curved spirals and shining bud-shaped earrings,
and about her soft throat were necklaces of great beauty.
Desire seized Anchises, and he spoke to her and said:

"Greetings, lady, whichever of the blessed ones you are who come to this house —
Artemis or Leto or golden Aphrodite
or well-born Themis or grey-eyed Athena;
or perhaps you have come here as one of the Graces,
who keep company with all the gods and are called immortal;
or one of the Nymphs who haunt the fair groves,
or of the Nymphs who dwell on this fair mountain
and at the springs of rivers and in the grassy water-meadows.
For you I will make an altar on a lookout,
on a spot seen from every side, and offer you fine sacrifices
in every season. And you, with a kindly heart,
grant that I may be a man conspicuous among the Trojans,
and make my offspring flourish hereafter; and for myself,
that I may live long and well and see the light of the sun,
prosperous among my people, and reach the threshold of old age."
Then Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus answered him:

"Anchises, most glorious of men born on the earth,
I am no goddess. Why do you liken me to the immortals?
I am mortal, and the mother who bore me was a woman.
My father is Otreus, of famous name, if you have heard of him,
who rules over all well-walled Phrygia.
I know your language clearly, and my own as well.
For a Trojan nurse reared me in the hall; she brought me up
from a small child all through, taking me from my dear mother.
So I know your tongue well too.
But now the Slayer of Argus with the golden wand carried me off
from the dance of Artemis of the golden shafts, the loud huntress.
Many of us were there, nymphs and girls worth many cattle,
and we were playing, and a boundless crowd ringed us round.
From there the Slayer of Argus with the golden wand carried me off.
He led me over many tilled fields of mortal men,
and over much land unallotted and unbuilt, through which
raw-flesh-eating beasts range in the shadowy dens;
and I thought my feet never touched the life-giving earth.
He said that I should be called the wedded wife of Anchises
beside his bed, and would bear you splendid children.
But when he had shown me and told me, the strong Slayer of Argus
went back again among the tribes of the immortals;
and I have come to you, and a strong necessity was on me.
But I beseech you by Zeus and by your noble parents —
for base people could never have got such a son —
take me untouched and without experience of love,
and show me to your father and to your careful-minded mother
and to your brothers, who are born of the same stock.
I shall be no unseemly daughter-in-law for them, but a fitting one.
And send a messenger quickly to the Phrygians of the swift horses
to tell my father and my mother, anxious as she is;
and they will send you gold in plenty and woven clothing;
and you, take the many splendid gifts of the bride-price.
And when you have done this, hold the wedding feast of desire,
honoured by men and by the immortal gods."

So speaking, the goddess cast sweet desire into his heart.
Desire seized Anchises, and he spoke and named her:

"If you are mortal, and the mother who bore you was a woman,
and your father is Otreus of famous name, as you say,
and you come here by the will of the immortal guide
Hermes, and shall be called my wife for all our days,
then no one of the gods and no mortal man
shall hold me back here from lying with you in love
this instant — not even if far-shooting Apollo himself
should let fly his shafts of groaning from the silver bow.
After that I would be willing, woman like the goddesses,
having gone up into your bed, to go down into the house of Hades."

So speaking he took her hand; and laughter-loving Aphrodite
turned away and went, her lovely eyes cast down,
to the well-spread bed, which was already there for the lord,
laid with soft cloaks; and above them
lay the skins of bears and of deep-voiced lions,
which he himself had killed in the high mountains.
And when they had gone up onto the well-made bed,
first he took the shining ornaments from her body,
the brooches and the curved spirals and the earrings and the necklaces.
He loosened her girdle, and stripped off her glistening clothes
and laid them down on a chair studded with silver —
Anchises did. And then, by the will of the gods and by destiny,
he lay, a mortal, beside an immortal goddess, not knowing it clearly.
At the hour when the herdsmen turn back to the fold
their cattle and their strong sheep out of the flowering pastures,
then she poured sweet sleep over Anchises,
a deep sleep, and clothed her own body in her fine garments.
When the shining goddess had clothed her body well in everything
she stood beside the hut, and her head reached
the well-made roof-beam; and from her cheeks shone out
an immortal beauty, such as is well-crowned Cytherea’s.
She woke him from sleep and spoke and named him:

"Get up, son of Dardanus. Why do you sleep so unwakeable a sleep?
And consider whether I seem to you the same
as when you first saw me with your eyes."

So she spoke; and he heard her very quickly out of his sleep.
And when he saw the throat and the lovely eyes of Aphrodite
he was afraid, and turned his eyes aside another way,
and covered his handsome face again with his cloak,
and entreated her, and addressed her with winged words:

"The instant I first saw you with my eyes, goddess,
I knew you were a god; and you did not tell me the truth.
But I beseech you by aegis-bearing Zeus:
do not leave me to live on among men without strength,
but have pity; for a man does not go on flourishing in life
who has lain with immortal goddesses."
Then Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus answered him:

"Anchises, most glorious of mortal men,
take heart, and do not be too much afraid in your mind.
You have nothing to fear, no harm to suffer from me,
nor from the other blessed ones; for you are dear to the gods.
You shall have a dear son, who will be lord among the Trojans,
and children born to his children continually.
His name shall be Aeneas, because a dreadful grief
held me, that I fell into the bed of a mortal man.
And of all mortal men your race is always the nearest
to the gods in look and in build.

Zeus the counsellor carried off golden-haired Ganymede
for his beauty, so that he might be among the immortals
and pour the wine for the gods in the house of Zeus,
a wonder to see, honoured by all the immortals,
drawing the red nectar from the golden mixing-bowl.
But unforgetting grief held the mind of Tros, and he did not know
where the divine whirlwind had carried off his dear son.
From then on he mourned for him continually, all his days;
and Zeus pitied him and gave him recompense for his son,
high-stepping horses, such as carry the immortals.
These he gave him to keep as a gift; and the guide,
the Slayer of Argus, told him everything at the bidding of Zeus,
that his son would be deathless and ageless, equal to the gods.
And when he had heard the messages of Zeus,
he mourned no longer, but rejoiced in his heart within,
and rode gladly behind his storm-footed horses.
So too golden-throned Dawn carried off Tithonus,
one of your line, and like the immortals.
She went to ask the son of Cronos, lord of the dark clouds,
that he might be deathless and live for all his days;
and Zeus nodded to her and fulfilled her wish.
Foolish one: the lady Dawn did not think in her mind
to ask for youth, and to scrape off ruinous old age.
So long as much-loved youth still held him,
he took his delight in golden-throned, early-born Dawn
and lived beside the streams of Ocean at the ends of the earth.
But when the first grey hairs came pouring down
from his fine head and from his well-born chin,
the lady Dawn kept away from his bed,
but still she kept him in her halls and cared for him,
giving him food and ambrosia and fine garments.
But when hateful old age pressed hard on him altogether,
and he could not move his limbs at all, nor lift them,
this seemed to her in her spirit the best course:
she laid him in a chamber and closed the shining doors.
His voice flows on unceasingly, but there is no strength in him
such as there once was in his supple limbs.
I would not choose that you should be like that among the immortals,
deathless and living for all your days.
But if you could live on such as you are now in look and in build,
and be called my husband,
then grief would not fold my close mind about.
But now old age, which levels all, will soon fold you about,
pitiless, that stands beside men afterwards,
deadly and wearying, which even the gods abhor.
And there will be a great reproach against me among the immortal gods
continually, all my days, because of you —
gods who used to dread my whisperings and my devices,
with which I once joined all the immortals to mortal women;
for my purpose used to subdue them all.
But now my mouth will no longer open to name
this thing among the immortals, since I was very greatly blinded,
cruelly, past disparaging, and was driven out of my mind,
and have got a child under my girdle, having lain with a mortal.
As for him, as soon as he first sees the light of the sun,
the deep-bosomed mountain Nymphs will rear him,
who dwell on this great and holy mountain,
and who follow neither mortals nor immortals.
They live long and eat immortal food,
and they move in the beautiful dance among the immortals.
With them the Sileni and the keen-eyed Slayer of Argus
mingle in love in the depths of lovely caves.
At their birth firs or high-headed oaks
sprang up together with them on the earth that feeds men,
beautiful and flourishing, on the high mountains.
They stand sheer, and men call them the precincts
of the immortals, and mortals do not cut them with iron.
But when the fate of death stands beside them,
first the beautiful trees dry up on the ground,
and the bark wastes away all round, and the branches fall,
and with them the spirit of the nymphs leaves the light of the sun.
They will rear my son, keeping him beside them.
And as soon as much-loved youth takes hold of him,
the goddesses will bring him here to you and show you your child.
And I, that I may go through all this in my mind for you,
will come again in the fifth year, bringing your son.
And when you first see the young shoot with your eyes,
you will rejoice at the sight, for he will be very like a god;
and you will take him at once to windy Ilium.
And if any of mortal men asks you
what mother got your dear son under her girdle,
remember and speak to him as I bid you:
say that he is the offspring of a bud-faced Nymph,
one of those who dwell on this mountain clothed in forest.
But if you speak it out and boast in the folly of your heart
that you lay in love with well-crowned Cytherea,
Zeus in his anger will strike you with a smoking thunderbolt.
All has been told you. Take it into your own mind
and hold back and do not name me, and fear the wrath of the gods."

So speaking she darted up toward the windy heaven.
Hail, goddess, ruler of well-built Cyprus;
having begun with you, I will pass on to another hymn.

Of the modest, gold-crowned, beautiful Aphrodite
I will sing, who has for her portion the battlements of all Cyprus
in the sea, where the moist force of the blowing west wind
carried her over the wave of the loud-roaring sea
in the soft foam; and the Seasons with their golden headbands
received her gladly and clothed her in immortal garments.
On her immortal head they set a well-wrought crown,
beautiful, of gold; and in her pierced ear-lobes
flowers of mountain-copper and of precious gold;
and about her soft throat and her silver-white breasts
they adorned her with golden necklaces, such as the Seasons
with their golden headbands wear themselves, whenever they go
to the lovely dance of the gods and to their father’s house.
And when they had put all the adornment about her body
they led her to the immortals; and they welcomed her at the sight
and took her hand in greeting, and every one of them prayed
that she might be his wedded wife and be led to his home,
marvelling at the form of violet-crowned Cytherea.
Hail, you of the curving lashes, sweet and gentle. Grant that I
may carry off the victory in this contest, and make my song ready.
And I will remember you and another song too.

Of Dionysus, the son of glorious Semele,
I will make my song: how he appeared beside the shore of the barren sea
on a jutting headland, in the likeness of a young man,
in his first youth; and his beautiful hair was tossing about him,
dark hair; and about his strong shoulders he wore a cloak
of crimson. Soon men from a well-benched ship
came on quickly over the wine-dark sea, pirates,
Tyrrhenians; and an evil doom was leading them. They saw him
and nodded to one another, and quickly leapt ashore. At once they seized him
and set him on their ship, glad at heart.
For they took him for the son of kings nurtured by Zeus,
and they meant to bind him with painful bonds.
But the bonds would not hold him, and the withies fell far away
from his hands and his feet; and he sat there smiling
with his dark eyes. The helmsman understood
and at once called out to his companions and said:

"Madmen, what god is this you have seized and are binding,
a strong one? Not even our well-made ship can carry him.
This is either Zeus or Apollo of the silver bow
or Poseidon; for he is not like mortal men
but like the gods who hold the halls of Olympus.
Come, let us set him free on the dark mainland
at once. Do not lay hands on him, or he may grow angry
and raise cruel winds against us and a great storm."
So he spoke; and the captain rebuked him with a hateful word:
"Madman, watch the wind, and haul up the ship’s sail
and take hold of all the tackle. This fellow is the men’s business.
I expect he will get to Egypt or to Cyprus
or to the Hyperboreans or further; and in the end
he will tell us of his friends and all his possessions
and his brothers, since a god has thrown him in our way."

So speaking he hauled up the mast and the sail of the ship.
The wind breathed into the belly of the sail, and they made
the tackle taut about it. And soon marvels appeared to them.
First of all, wine went bubbling through the swift black ship,
sweet to drink and fragrant, and an ambrosial smell
rose up; and amazement took hold of all the sailors at the sight.
At once a vine spread out along the very top of the sail,
this way and that, and many clusters
hung down from it; and dark ivy wound about the mast,
flourishing with blossom, and lovely fruit came up on it;
and all the thole-pins wore garlands. And when they saw it
they at once ordered the helmsman
to bring the ship to land. But he became a lion for them, inside the ship,
terrible, up on the prow, and roared aloud; and amidships
he made a shaggy-necked bear, showing his signs.
It reared up ravening; and the lion on the topmost deck
glared terribly from under its brows. They fled to the stern
and stood about the helmsman, who kept a steady spirit,
struck out of their wits. But the lion sprang suddenly
and took the captain; and the rest, to escape their evil doom,
all leapt together, when they saw it, into the shining sea,
and became dolphins. But he took pity on the helmsman
and held him back and made him wholly blessed, and spoke:
"Take heart, †noble one†, you who are pleasing to my heart.
I am Dionysus the loud-roaring, whom my mother bore,
Semele the daughter of Cadmus, joined in love with Zeus."
Hail, child of fair-faced Semele. There is no way
for a man who forgets you to compose the sweet song.

Ares of surpassing might, weigher-down of chariots, golden-helmed,
stout-hearted, shield-bearer, saviour of cities, armoured in bronze,
strong of hand, untiring, mighty with the spear, bulwark of Olympus,
father of Victory who fights well, helper of Themis,
tyrant to the hostile, leader of the most just of men,
sceptred lord of manhood, wheeling your fire-bright orb
among the seven-pathed constellations of the upper air, where your blazing
colts hold you always above the third rim of heaven:
hear me, helper of mortals, giver of confident youth.
Shed a gentle light down from on high upon my life
and warlike strength, so that I may have power
to drive bitter evil away from my head,
and to bend down with my mind the deceiving impulse of my spirit,
and to hold back the sharp fury of the heart that goads me
to enter the chilling battle. But you, blessed one,
give me courage, and to abide in the harmless ordinances of peace,
escaping the strife of enemies and the violent fates of death.

Sing of Artemis, Muse, the sister of him who shoots from afar,
the maiden who pours arrows, reared together with Apollo,
who waters her horses at Meles of the deep reeds
and drives her all-golden chariot swiftly through Smyrna
to Claros rich in vines, where Apollo of the silver bow
sits waiting for the far-shooting pourer of arrows.
And so hail to you in my song, and to all the goddesses with you.
But I begin to sing of you first and from you,
and having begun with you, I will pass on to another hymn.

I will sing of Cytherea, born in Cyprus, who gives to mortals
gentle gifts, and on whose lovely face
a smile is always playing, and over it runs a lovely bloom.
Hail, goddess, ruler of well-built Salamis
and of sea-girt Cyprus. Grant me a song of longing.
And I will remember you and another song too.

Of Pallas Athena, the guardian of the city, I begin to sing,
the dread one, whose concern with Ares is the works of war,
the sacking of cities and the war-cry and the battles,
and who keeps the host safe as it goes out and as it comes back.
Hail, goddess, and grant us good fortune and happiness.

I sing of golden-throned Hera, whom Rhea bore,
queen of the immortals, of surpassing form,
the sister and the wife of loud-thundering Zeus,
the glorious one, whom all the blessed ones on tall Olympus
revere and honour equally with Zeus who delights in thunder.

of her and of her daughter, most beautiful Persephone.
Hail, goddess, and keep this city safe; and begin my song.

Sing for me of the mother of all the gods and of all men,
clear-voiced Muse, daughter of great Zeus,
who takes her delight in the clatter of castanets and drums
and the roar of pipes, and in the howling of wolves and bright-eyed lions,
and in echoing mountains and wooded glens.
And so hail to you in my song, and to all the goddesses with you.

I will sing of Heracles, the son of Zeus, far the best
of men on earth, whom Alcmene bore in Thebes of the fair dancing-places,
having lain with the son of Cronos, lord of the dark clouds.
Once he wandered over the boundless land and the sea
on the errands of lord Eurystheus,
and did many reckless things himself, and endured many.
But now he lives in the fair seat of snowy Olympus,
taking his delight, and he has fair-ankled Hebe.
Hail, lord, son of Zeus; and grant me excellence and prosperity.

Of Asclepius, the healer of diseases, I begin to sing,
the son of Apollo, whom shining Coronis bore
on the Dotian plain, the daughter of king Phlegyas,
a great joy to men, a charmer-away of cruel pains.
And so hail to you, lord; and I entreat you in my song.

Sing of Castor and Polydeuces, clear-voiced Muse,
the sons of Tyndareus, who were born of Olympian Zeus.
The lady Leda bore them under the peaks of Taygetus,
subdued in secret by the son of Cronos, lord of the dark clouds.
Hail, sons of Tyndareus, riders of swift horses.

I sing of Cyllenian Hermes, the Slayer of Argus,
lord of Cyllene and of Arcadia rich in flocks,
the helping messenger of the immortals, whom Maia bore,
the daughter of Atlas, joined in love with Zeus,
a modest one. She shunned the company of the blessed gods
and lived in a deep-shadowed cave, where the son of Cronos
used to lie with the fair-tressed nymph in the dead of night,
while sweet sleep held white-armed Hera;
and he escaped the notice of the immortal gods and of mortal men.
And so hail to you, son of Zeus and Maia;
and having begun with you, I will pass on to another hymn.
[Hail, Hermes, giver of grace, guide, giver of good things.]

Tell me, Muse, of the dear son of Hermes,
goat-footed, two-horned, lover of noise, who ranges
the wooded water-meadows together with the dance-loving nymphs,
who tread the crests of the sheer rock
and call on Pan, the pastoral god of the shining hair,
unkempt, who has for his portion every snowy ridge
and the peaks of the mountains and the rocky crests.
He ranges here and there through the thick brush,
sometimes drawn along by the soft streams,
sometimes making his way among the sheer rocks,
climbing to the topmost peak that overlooks the flocks.
Often he runs across the long white mountains,
often he drives through the glens killing wild beasts,
with his keen sight. And then at evening he plays alone,
coming back from the hunt, making music on his reeds,
sweet music. That bird could not outdo him in melody
which pours out its lament among the leaves
of the flowering spring and mourns its honey-voiced song.
And then the clear-singing mountain Nymphs go with him,
ranging with quick feet at the spring of dark water,
and they sing; and Echo moans about the mountain peak.
And the god moves here and there in the dances, and now into the middle,
and works quickly with his feet; and on his back he wears
the tawny hide of a lynx, and his heart exults in the clear singing,
in a soft meadow, where the crocus and the sweet-smelling
hyacinth flourish and mingle past telling with the grass.
They hymn the blessed gods and tall Olympus,
and they told how Hermes the helper, above all the others,
is the swift messenger to all the gods,
and how he came to Arcadia of the many springs, the mother of flocks,
where he has his precinct as the Cyllenian.
There, god though he was, he herded rough-fleeced sheep
for a mortal man; for a soft longing had come over him and flourished,
to join in love with the fair-tressed daughter of Dryops.
He accomplished the flourishing marriage; and she bore in the halls
a dear son to Hermes, a monstrous thing to look at from the first,
goat-footed, two-horned, lover of noise, sweetly laughing.
The nurse sprang up and fled, and left the child;
for she was frightened when she saw his ungentle, bearded face.
But Hermes the helper took him at once into his arms
and received him, and the god rejoiced in his mind beyond measure.
Swiftly he went to the seats of the immortals, hiding the child
in the thick skins of a mountain hare;
and he sat down beside Zeus and the other immortals
and showed them his boy. And all the immortals were delighted
in their spirit, and Bacchic Dionysus above all;
and they called him Pan, because he delighted the hearts of them all.
And so hail to you, lord; and I seek your favour with my song.
And I will remember you and another song too.

Sing of Hephaestus famed for his skill, clear-voiced Muse,
who with grey-eyed Athena taught splendid crafts
to men upon the earth — men who before that
used to live in caves in the mountains, like wild beasts.
But now, having learned the crafts through Hephaestus famed for his art,
they easily pass their lives, year in and year out,
at their ease in their own houses.
Be gracious, Hephaestus; and grant me excellence and prosperity.

Phoebus, the swan too sings of you clearly from under his wings,
alighting on the bank beside the eddying river,
the Peneus; and the singer with his clear-toned lyre,
sweet of speech, always sings of you first and last.
And so hail to you, lord; and I seek your favour with my song.

Of Poseidon, the great god, I begin to sing,
the shaker of the earth and of the barren sea,
the lord of the deep, who holds Helicon and wide Aegae.
In two parts, Earth-Shaker, the gods divided your honour:
to be the tamer of horses and the saviour of ships.
Hail, Poseidon, holder of the earth, dark-haired one;
and, blessed one, keep a kindly heart and help those who sail.

I will sing of Zeus, the best and the greatest of the gods,
far-seeing, ruling, bringing all to accomplishment, who talks
close counsels with Themis as she sits leaning toward him.
Be gracious, far-seeing son of Cronos, most glorious and greatest.

Hestia, you who tend the sacred house of lord Apollo
who shoots from afar, in holy Pytho,
from whose locks the soft oil is always dripping:
come into this house, come with a heart of one mind
with Zeus the counsellor; and grant grace to my song as well.

Let me begin with the Muses and Apollo and Zeus.
For it is from the Muses and from far-shooting Apollo
that there are singers and lyre-players on the earth,
and from Zeus that there are kings. Blessed is the man whom the Muses
love: a sweet voice flows from his mouth.
Hail, children of Zeus, and honour my song;
and I will remember you and another song too.

Of ivy-haired Dionysus, the loud-roaring, I begin to sing,
the shining son of Zeus and of glorious Semele,
whom the lovely-haired Nymphs reared, taking him to their bosoms
from his father the lord, and carefully brought him up
in the glens of Nysa. And he grew by his father’s will
in a fragrant cave, counted among the immortals.
But when the goddesses had reared him, the much-hymned one,
then he began to range through the wooded glens,
thickly covered with ivy and laurel; and the Nymphs followed
with him, and he led them; and the roar of it filled the boundless wood.
And so hail to you, Dionysus of the many clusters;
and grant that we may come again in gladness to this season,
and from that season on through the many years.

I sing of Artemis of the golden shafts, the loud huntress,
the modest maiden, the shooter of deer, the pourer of arrows,
own sister of Apollo of the golden blade,
who over the shadowy mountains and the windy crests
takes her delight in the hunt and draws her all-golden bow,
sending out shafts of groaning. And the peaks of the high
mountains tremble, and the deep-shadowed wood cries out
terribly at the screaming of the beasts, and the earth shudders,
and the sea full of fish. But she, with a valiant heart,
turns every way, destroying the breed of wild things.
But when the beast-watching pourer of arrows has had her delight
and gladdened her mind, she unstrings her well-bent bow
and goes to the great house of her dear brother,
Phoebus Apollo, to the rich country of Delphi,
to set in order the beautiful dance of the Muses and the Graces.
There she hangs up her back-bent bow and her arrows
and leads them, wearing graceful adornment about her body,
and begins the dances. And they, sending out an immortal voice,
hymn fair-ankled Leto, how she bore children
far the best of the immortals in counsel and in deeds.
Hail, children of Zeus and of lovely-haired Leto;
and I will remember you and another song too.

Of Pallas Athena, the glorious goddess, I begin to sing,
grey-eyed, full of devices, with an implacable heart,
the modest maiden, guardian of the city, strong in defence,
Tritogeneia, whom Zeus the counsellor himself brought forth
out of his august head, wearing the arms of war,
golden and all-shining. Awe held all the immortals
who saw it. And before aegis-bearing Zeus she sprang
in haste from his immortal head,
shaking her sharp javelin; and great Olympus reeled
terribly at the might of the grey-eyed one, and all around the earth
screamed dreadfully; and the sea was stirred,
churned up with dark waves, and the brine poured out
all at once. The shining son of Hyperion halted
his swift-footed horses a long while, until the maiden
took the godlike arms from her immortal shoulders,
Pallas Athena; and Zeus the counsellor rejoiced.
And so hail to you, child of aegis-bearing Zeus;
and I will remember you and another song too.

Hestia, in the high houses of all,
both of the immortal gods and of men who walk on the ground,
you have drawn an everlasting seat, the honour of the eldest,
holding a fine and honoured privilege; for without you
mortals have no feasts, where a man does not first and last
pour honey-sweet wine to Hestia, beginning with her.
And you, Slayer of Argus, son of Zeus and Maia,
messenger of the blessed ones, of the golden wand, giver of good things,
be gracious and help us, together with her whom we revere and love.
Dwell in the fair houses, with friendship in your hearts
for one another; for you both know the fine works
of men upon the earth, and go with them in mind and in youth.
Hail, daughter of Cronos, you and Hermes of the golden wand;
and I will remember you and another song too.

I will sing of Earth, the mother of all, firm-founded,
the eldest, who feeds everything there is upon the ground,
all that moves over the shining land and all that moves in the sea
and all that flies: these are fed out of your abundance.
From you men come to have good children and good harvests,
lady; and it rests with you to give life to mortal men
and to take it away. Blessed is the man whom you
honour gladly in your heart: he has everything in plenty.
The life-bearing ploughland is heavy for such men, and in the fields
their cattle thrive, and the house is filled with good things;
and they themselves govern with good laws in a city of beautiful women,
and much happiness and wealth attend them.
Their sons exult in the fresh-blooming gladness of youth,
and their girls, with a joyful heart, in the flower-decked dances
play and skip over the soft flowers of the grass —
those whom you honour, august goddess, ungrudging spirit.
Hail, mother of the gods, wife of starry Heaven,
and grant me gladly, in return for my song, a livelihood that contents the heart;
and I will remember you and another song too.

Begin again, Muse, child of Zeus, to hymn the Sun,
Calliope: the shining one, whom ox-eyed Euryphaessa bore
to the child of Earth and of starry Heaven.
For Hyperion married glorious Euryphaessa,
his own sister, and she bore him beautiful children:
rosy-armed Dawn and fair-tressed Selene
and the tireless Sun, like to the immortals,
who shines for mortals and for the immortal gods
as he rides behind his horses. Terribly he gazes with his eyes
from under his golden helmet; and bright rays flash
gleaming from him; and from his temples the bright hair
hangs down from his head and frames his graceful face,
shining far. About his body a beautiful garment shines,
finely woven, in the breath of the winds; and stallions are under him.
There he halts his golden-yoked chariot and his horses,
[and rests there at the top of heaven, until again]
in his divine power he sends them through the sky toward Ocean.
Hail, lord, and grant me gladly a livelihood that contents the heart.
Having begun with you, I will celebrate the race of speaking men,
the half-gods, whose deeds the goddesses have shown to mortals.

Tell me, Muses, to sing of the long-winged Moon,
sweet-speaking daughters of Zeus the son of Cronos, skilled in song:
from whose immortal head a heaven-shown radiance
winds about the earth, and a great beauty rises up
under her shining light; and the unlit air gleams
from her golden crown, and the beams linger,
whenever the shining Selene, having washed her lovely body
in Ocean and put on her far-shining garments,
has yoked her strong-necked, gleaming colts
and drives her fair-maned horses swiftly forward,
at evening, at the mid-month; and then her great course is full
and her beams are at their brightest as she waxes,
out of heaven; and she is made a token and a sign for mortals.
With her the son of Cronos once joined in love and in bed;
and she conceived and bore a daughter, Pandeia,
of surpassing form among the immortal gods.
Hail, queen, white-armed goddess, shining Selene,
gracious and fair-tressed. Beginning with you, I will sing
the glories of men who were half-gods, whose deeds the singers,
the servants of the Muses, celebrate from their lovely mouths.

Tell of the sons of Zeus, Muses of the quick-glancing eyes,
the sons of Tyndareus, the shining children of fair-ankled Leda,
Castor the tamer of horses and blameless Polydeuces,
whom, under the peak of the great mountain Taygetus,
having lain in love with the son of Cronos, lord of the dark clouds,
she bore: children who are saviours of men upon the earth
and of swift-going ships, when the winter squalls
drive over the merciless sea. Then the men from the ships
pray and call upon the sons of great Zeus
with white lambs, going up onto the topmost part
of the stern; and the great wind and the wave of the sea
have driven the ship under. But suddenly they appear,
darting through the upper air on tawny wings,
and at once they still the blasts of the cruel winds
and lay the waves flat in the deeps of the white sea —
fair signs, a release from labour. And the sailors, seeing them,
rejoiced, and their wretched toil was over.
Hail, sons of Tyndareus, riders of swift horses;
and I will remember you and another song too.