The herd went wandering o'er the divine mead, Whilst these most beautiful Sons of Jupiter Won their swift way up to the snowy head
Of white Olympus, with the joyous lyre Soothing their journey; and their father dread Gathered them both into familiar Affection sweet,-and then, and now, and ever, Hermes must love Him of the Golden Quiver, LXXXVII.
To whom he gave the lyre that sweetly sounded, Which skilfully he held and played thereon. He piped the while, and far and wide rebounded The echo of his pipings; every one
Of the Olympians sat with joy astounded,
While he conceived another piece of fun, One of his old tricks-which the God of Day Perceiving, said: I fear thee, Son of May ;—
"I fear thee and thy sly chameleon spirit,
Lest thou should steal my lyre and crooked bow; This glory and power thou dost from Jove inherit, To teach all craft upon the earth below; Thieves love and worship thee-it is thy merit To make all mortal business ebb and flow By roguery:-now, Hermes, if you dare By sacred Styx a mighty oath to swear,
"That you will never rob me, you will do A thing extremely pleasing to my heart." Then Mercury sware by the Stygian dew,
That he would never steal his bow or dart, Or lay his hands on what to him was due, Or ever would employ his powerful art Against his Pythian fane. Then Phoebus swore There was no God or man whom he loved more. xc.
"And I will give thee as a good-will token
The beautiful wand of wealth and happiness; A perfect three-leaved rod of gold unbroken, Whose magic will thy footsteps ever bless; And whatsoever by Jove's voice is spoken Of earthly or divine from its recess, It like a loving soul to thee will speak, And more than this do thou forbear to seek:
"For, dearest child, the divinations high
Which thou requirest, 'tis unlawful ever That thou, or any other deity,
Should understand-and vain were the en
For they are hidden in Jove's mind, and I, In trust of them, have sworn that I would never Betray the counsels of Jove's inmost will To any God-the oath was terrible.
Then, golden-wanded brother, ask me not To speak the fates by Jupiter designed; But be it mine to tell their various lot
To the unnumbered tribes of human kind. Let good to these and ill to those be wrought As I dispense-but he who comes consigned By voice and wings of perfect augury To my great shrine, shall find avail in me.
YE wild-eyed Muses, sing the Twins of Jove, Whom the fair-ankled Leda mixed in love With mighty Saturn's heaven-obscuring Child. On Taygetus, that lofty mountain wild, Brought forth in joy, mild Pollux void of blame, And steel-subduing Castor, heirs of fame. These are the Powers who earthborn mortals
And ships, whose flight is swift along the wave. When wintry tempests o'er the savage sea Are raging, and the sailors tremblingly Call on the Twins of Jove with prayer and vow, Gathered in fear upon the lofty prow, And sacrifice with snow-white lambs, the wind And the huge billow bursting close behind, Even then beneath the weltering waters bear The staggering ship-they suddenly appear, On yellow wings rushing athwart the sky, And lull the blasts in mute tranquillity, And strew the waves on the white ocean's bed, Fair omen of the voyage; from toil and dread, The sailors rest, rejoicing in the sight, And plough the quiet sea in safe delight.
DAUGHTERS of Jove, whose voice is melody, Muses, who know and rule all minstrelsy! Sing the wide-winged Moon. Around the earth, From her immortal head in Heaven shot forth, Far light is scattered-boundless glory springs, Where'er she spreads her many-beaming wings The lampless air glows round her golden crown.
But when the Moon divine from Heaven is gone Under the sea, her beams within abide, Till, bathing her bright limbs in Ocean's tide, Clothing her form in garments glittering far, And having yoked to her immortal car The beam-invested steeds, whose necks on high Curve back, she drives to a remoter sky A western Crescent, borne impetuously. Then is made full the circle of her light, And as she grows, her beams more bright and bright, Are poured from Heaven, where she is hovering A wonder and a sign to mortal men. [then,
The Son of Saturn with this glorious Power Mingled in love and sleep-to whom she bore, Pandeia, a bright maid of beauty rare Among the Gods, whose lives eternal are.
Hail Queen, great Moon, white-armed Divinity, Fair-haired and favourable, thus with thee, My song beginning, by its music sweet Shall make immortal many a glorious feat Of demigods, with lovely lips, so well Which minstrels, servants of the muses, tell.
OFFSPRING of Jove, Calliope, once more To the bright Sun, thy hymn of music pour; Whom to the child of star-clad Heaven and Earth Euryphaessa, large-eyed nymph, brought forth; Euryphaessa, the famed sister fair,
Of great Hyperion, who to him did bear
A race of loveliest children; the young Morn, Whose arms are like twin roses newly born, The fair-haired Moon, and the immortal Sun, Who, borne by heavenly steeds his race doth run Unconquerably, illuming the abodes
Of mortal men and the eternal gods.
Fiercely look forth his awe-inspiring eyes, Beneath his golden helmet, whence arise And are shot forth afar, clear beams of light; His countenance with radiant glory bright, Beneath his graceful locks far shines around, And the light vest with which his limbs are bound, Of woof ethereal, delicately twined Glows on the stream of the uplifting wind. His rapid steeds soon bear him to the west; Where their steep flight his hands divine arrest, And the fleet car with yoke of gold, which he Sends from bright heaven beneath the shadowy
TO THE EARTH, MOTHER OF ALL.
O UNIVERSAL Mother, who dost keep From everlasting thy foundations deep, Eldest of things, Great Earth, I sing of thee; All shapes that have their dwelling in the sea, All things that fly, or on the ground divine Live, move, and there are nourished-these are thine;
These from thy wealth thou dost sustain ; from thee Fair babes are born, and fruits on every tree Hang ripe and large, revered Divinity!
The life of mortal men beneath thy sway Is held; thy power both gives and takes away! Happy are they whom thy mild favours nourish, All things unstinted round them grow and flourish. For them, endures the life sustaining field
Its load of harvest, and their cattle yield Large increase, and their house with wealth is filled. Such honoured dwell in cities fair and free, The homes of lovely women, prosperously; Their sons exult in youth's new budding gladness, And their fresh daughters free from care or sadness, With bloom-inwoven dance and happy song, On the soft flowers the meadow-grass among, Leap round them sporting-such delights by thee Are given, rich Power, revered Divinity.
Mother of gods, thou wife of starry Heaven, Farewell! be thou propitious, and be given A happy life for this brief melody, Nor thou nor other songs shall unremembered be.
I SING the glorious Power with azure eyes, Athenian Pallas! tameless, chaste, and wise, Trilogenia, town-preserving maid,
Revered and mighty; from his awful head Whom Jove brought forth, in warlike armour drest, Golden, all radiant! wonder strange possessed The everlasting Gods that shape to see, Shaking a javelin keen, impetuously Rush from the crest of Ægis-bearing Jove; Fearfully Heaven was shaken, and did move Beneath the might of the Cerulean-eyed; Earth dreadfully resounded, far and wide, And lifted from its depths, the sea swelled high In purple billows, the tide suddenly Stood still, and great Hyperion's son long time Checked his swift steeds, till where she stood sublime, Pallas from her immortal shoulders threw The arms divine; wise Jove rejoiced to view. Child of the Ægis-bearer, hail to thee, Nor thine nor others' praise shall unremembered be.
O BACCHUS, what a world of toil, both now And ere these limbs were overworn with age, Have I endured for thee! First, when thou fled'st The mountain-nymphs who nurst thee, driven afar By the strange madness Juno sent upon thee; Then in the battle of the sons of Earth, When I stood foot by foot close to thy side, No unpropitious fellow combatant,
And, driving through his shield my winged spear, Slew vast Enceladus. Consider now,
Is it a dream of which I speak to thee? By Jove it is not, for you have the trophies! And now I suffer more than all before. For, when I heard that Juno had devised A tedious voyage for you, I put to sea With all my children quaint in search of you, And I myself stood on the beaked prow And fixed the naked mast; and all my boys, Leaning upon their oars, with splash and strain Made white with foam the green and purple sea,— And so we sought you, king. We were sailing Near Malea, when an eastern wind arose, And drove us to this wild Etnean rock; The one-eyed children of the Ocean God, The man-destroying Cyclopses inhabit, On this wild shore, their solitary caves;
And one of these, named Polypheme, has caught us To be his slaves; and so, for all delight Of Bacchic sports, sweet dance and melody, We keep this lawless giant's wandering flocks. My sons indeed, on far declivities,
Young things themselves, tend on the youngling But I remain to fill the water casks, Or sweeping the hard floor, or ministering] Some impious and abominable meal To the fell Cyclops. I am wearied of it! And now I must scrape up the littered floor With this great iron rake, so to receive My absent master and his evening sheep In a cave neat and clean. Even now I see My children tending the flocks hitherward. Ha! what is this? are your Sicinnian measures
Even now the same as when with dance and song You brought young Bacchus to Athaa's halls?
Where has he of race divine Wandered in the winding rocks? Here the air is calm and fine For the father of the flocks;- Here the grass is soft and sweet, And the river-eddies meet In the trough beside the cave, Bright as in their fountain wave.— Neither here, nor on the dew Of the lawny uplands feeding? Oh, you come!-a stone at you Will I throw to mend your breeding; Get along you horned thing Wild, seditious, rambling!
An Iacchic melody To the golden Aphrodite Will I lift, as erst did I
Seeking her and her delight With the Mænads, whose white feet To the music glance and fleet. Bacchus, O beloved, where, Shaking wide thy yellow hair, Wanderest thou alone, afar? To the one-eyed Cyclops, we, Who by right thy servants are, Minister in misery,
In these wretched goat-skins clad, Far from thy delights and thee.
Be silent, sons; command the slaves to drive The gathered flocks into the rock-roofed cave.
Go! But what needs this serious haste, O father!
*The Antistrophe is omitted.
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