Whatever monster it might be
That made these marks, good care took he
To make them large and busily."

Then Phœbus hasten'd farther still,
To deep-embower'd Cyllene's hill,
And reach'd the cave of Maia, where
Th' ambrosial Nymph to mighty Jove
Bore the sly infant of their love,
Far in amid deep-shaded rocks:
O'er all the hill the scented air
Breathed sweetness round, and many flocks
Bit close the tender herbage there.

Down to the cavernous chamber stepp'd
Apollo, the far-darting god;
The threshold in his wrath he trode.
Him Hermes saw, duck'd down, and crept
Under his cradle-clothes, hands, feet, and all,
Huddled up close together, like a ball,
Or smouldering fagot underneath its heap
Of ashes; thus lay Hermes in his nest,
As 'twere a new-wash'd baby mass of sleep,
Yet therewithal his tortoise-shell he press'd,
Tenderly under his infant arms caress'd.

But now Latona's son knew well
That in this stony mansion dwelt
Maia and Hermes; every cell,
Corner, and hole, he search'd, and felt,
Look'd well about him, opening three
Large cupboards with a polish'd key-
Three cupboards with ambrosia stored,
And nectar for their daily board,
And gold and silver too, no little hoard;
Then Maia's millinery, white

And purple robes, all exquisite,

And fit for sacred houses, turn'd he over
And ransack'd, the thief Hermes to discover,
And found him cradled as he lay-
Then thus" You little urchin, say,
Where are my cows you stole away?
This instant speak, or you and I
Must have a quarrel presently;
I'll hurl thee, too, young mischievous,
Down to the dismal Tartarus,
And its inextricable night;
Nor shall thy mother-no, nor thy father,
E'er help thee back again to light;
Left there to perish, or say rather
To live, and rule forlorn, the head
And leader of the puny dead."

Hermes, with cunning speech, replied-
"Hard words are these, Latona's son,
That a poor babe have vilified.
What makes thee hither angry run
To seek thy cows? - I've seen them not;
If thieves there be, I am not in their plot.
Nor would my conscience, should you offer
Handsome rewards for information,
Allow me to accept the offer.
And, so far for my abnegation,
Nor thief am I, nor thief's conniver.
Am I like a stout cattle-driver?

I, such a puny thing as I,
That have not aught to do but lie
Nestled up warm, to suck and sleep
On my own mother's breast, and creep

Under my cradle-clothes, be kiss'd, And wash'd in nice warm water every - night!

I steal your cows!-how could the thought exist?

Th' Olympian gods would laugh outright,
Should you in such a charge persist,
That a young thing as I should out
A-cattle-driving!-I, so stout!-
Born yesterday! And my poor feet-
Look at them they are soft enough;
For roads, so very hard and rough,
You must confess them most unmeet.

"Now, would you like an oath, I'll swear
A great one. By my father's head-
A monstrous oath-I know not where
Your cows are, nor have e'er heard said;
Nor cows, nor thieves, have met my eye;
In no wise will I bear the blame.
And what are cows? I know not, I,
What things they are, except by name.
Pray, tell me, sir, what things are cows?"
This Hermes said, wrinkled his brows,
And cast his winking eyes about;
And one long wheugh, half-whistled out,
That meant to say, was ever heard
An accusation so absurd?.

Phœbus, in pleasant humour, laugh'd;
Quoth he, "Thou quintessence of craft,
Henceforth I prophesy of thee
The prince of housebreakers to be;
How many that bear purse and scrip,
Shall walk with thee, and shortly miss it;
And houses rue thy noiseless trip,
And domiciliary visit,

And find their masters penniless!
What herdsmen rue thy knavishness,
And diminution of their stocks,

When thou, with thoughts of future savour,
Shalt take the choice of herds and flocks
Unto thy more especial favour!
Out of thy cradle-up, boy, leap,
Or thou shalt sleep thy latest sleep,
Thou lover of dark nights; but go
Up to the gods; thy wit achieves
The glorious boon they shall bestow,-
The title of the King of Thieves."

This said, Apollo seized the urchin,
Who, finding himself roughly handled,
Not like a petted baby dandled,
But grasp'd and lifted up aloft,
With fingers, too, not over soft,
His wit's invention keenly searching,
In quick return for his caressing,
Bethought him of an infant's blessing.

Upon the ground Apollo threw Young Hermes, and apart withdrew; Sat down before him, first to scoff, Though much in hurry to be off. " By this good omen, then," quoth he, "We now shall go on swimmingly, Especially with such a guide;

So, up-begone." But Hermes plied

Robust to drive? Good father Jove,-
Father, dear name, I never drove,
Heaven bless me, homeward cow or kine,
Nor have I cross'd my threshold ever,
Till now; I reverence the great sun divine,
And all their godships whatsoever-
Love you would e'en respect this bully;
I'm innocent, you know it fully.

HERMES, Cyllenian Argicide,
Thus spake with winks and nods aside,
Nor did he let his garment flow,
But held it o'er his arm projected,
As one that a reply expected;
And Jove laugh'd loud to see him so
Expert in wit and self-collected;
And, both his sons accosting, bid them
In instant amity proceed

After the kine, Hermes to lead

The way, and shew where he had hid them.
Jove nodded, and as most expedient
In such cases, Hermes march'd obedient.

The two illustrious brothers sped
Towards Pylos, and the pasturage
By the Alphæus' sandy bed,
And reach'd the stalls and courtelage,
Where all night long the beeves were fed :
There Hermes enter'd, and drove out
The noble kine, near fifty head:
Meanwhile Apollo search'd about,
And saw the skins where they were spread
Upon the rock, with admiration
Accosting thus his new relation :
"How comes it now, young crafty Hermes,
That one a babe, an infant merely,

Whose sinew yet so little firm is,
Should slaughter two great cows? Full dearly
I think to pay for thy upgrowing,
If now thou art so strong and knowing."
This saying, the tenacious bine

Took Phœbus from a neighbouring vine, And tied young Hermes' hands, and bound him,

Not long, for at his feet it fell,
And left him free as first it found him.
Loose flew the band, though twisted well,
Nor e'en could Phœbus' self divine

The cause, and own'd the miracle.

Then Hermes a few steps retreated,
And with fix'd countenance, moved his eye
Quickly about him, to descry
Close shelter-but he soon was seated,
And straight bethought him of a charm,
That might preserve his limbs from harm;
(Vocal the charm and instrumental:)
For this in his left hand he laid

His new-strung tortoise-shell, and play'd,
Variously striking on each string,
That from beneath his hands did fling
Such new-created melody,
Accompanied by vocal measure,

That Phœbus laugh'd for very pleasure
Under the thrilling poesy.

I'm lost in wonder how 'tis so,

That one should be so young and wise,

And so adroitly lyricize.

And bid thy gentle mother know,

What good I mean thee, Hermes mine,
(And all is truth that I divine ;)
Nay, by this cornel wand, I'll place thee
Blest 'mid the glorious gods, and grace thee
With precious gifts, and learn Apollo

Ne'er proffers friendship false and hollow."

Then Hermes answer'd him as cunning: "Phœbus, you speak me fair, I wis, And knowing too, though somewhat run

ning

Too much into periphrasis, Whereof I know the meaning well, For you are welcome to this shell, Nor do I envy you the art;

Will teach it you this very day

In all simplicity of heart.

You've but to wish, I say not nay.

But, Phœbus, your capacious mind

As some fair mistress, shall entreat, And question skilfully and well, And kindly, to his bidding meet Ever will it discourse most sweet And excellent music, easy gliding

Into the soul, as it were part
And being of each hearer's heart;
But to rough hand, or peevish chiding,
Harsh grating discord and displeasure,
Or folly's mealy maudlin measure.
Here take it, son of Jove, Apollo,
And skill to use it soon will follow.
But let us to the pastures drive,
O'er hill and plain, the bulls and kine,
Together mix'd, that so will thrive
And multiply, good Phœbus mine,
As you may have small cause to waken
Your wrath 'gainst me (though too much

sent.

Jove loves you; hath to you assign'd
Honours nor small nor evanescent,
Amid th' immortal brotherhood!

Great are you, certes, and most good;
Nor have you more than is your due;
And Jove your sire hath favour'd you
Farther, 'tis said, by divination,
The conferr'd gift of prophecy:
Your opulence in full know I,
Nor needs there strict enumeration.
That you can learn whate'er you will
I doubt not, and for this poor skill
In music, and this simple lyre,
'Tis but to wish them and acquire.
Sing, then, and play, and condescend
To learn of me take all delight,
But recollect your words, requite,
Give me that glory you commend.
Now take it in your hands, and sing,
Make much of it, the gentle thing,
As 'twere a pleasant soft-toned friend,
And gay companion, brisk and clever,
To charm societies, whenever.
You visit feast, and hall, and ring,
Or any jovial revelling,
And would all day and night prolong
The merry pastime of sweet song.
Whoe'er this unconstrained shell,

And a smart whip in turn presented
To Hermes, with the pleasant drift,
Of urging him to instant thrift
Of tending the herds; Hermes consented,
Proud to be made his overseer.
In his left hand Latona's son

Then took the lyre, and one by one
He stirr'd the strings, till somewhat freer
He struck and sang-when from his hand
Uprose the music soft and bland.

The kine were to the pastures sent,
And the two sons of Jove retraced
To the Olympian tops snow-graced
Their steps, delighting as they went
Ever in minstrel merriment.

Joy took possession of wise Jove,
Commanding friendship to each other,
As brother should be link'd with brother;
Nor farther hint did it behove,
For Hermes towards Latona's son
Felt pure affection, love entire,
Both now and when he gave the lyre,
As he so willingly had done.
Light caroll'd Phœbus, well contented,
In bended arm his lyre caressing.
And Hermes, greater skill professing,
Another instrument invented,

The shrill pipe, sharper on the ear,
Contrived for distance, loud and clear.

Our amity, I would be wary,
And beg your honour to affix
To this our truce, in confirmation,
A great oath By the awful Styx!-
And nod, the Gods' asseveration,
That, without fraud, in all things duly
You mean to act sincerely-truly."

The son of Maia bow'd assent; Whate'er the Archer own'd, he nought

would covet,

Or seek in act or manner fraudulent;

For thievery, he was much above it;
Nor would he his rich temple e'er approach,
Much less upon his property encroach.

Apollo, too, the glorious son
Of fair Latona, gave the nod,
That or in heaven or earth, not one,
Or son of Jove, or man, or god,
Would he hold half so dear as Hermes;
And added, " Since our truth so firm is,
I mean in friendship to present you
A rod endued with charm to bless,

With riches and all happiness,

The master by whose hand 'tis holden;

For these at least I take, nor aught return.
But, son of Maia and of Jove,
Apparitor of gods above,

There somewhat yet remains for thee to learn
Far deep in their Parnassian bower,
Secluded virgin sisters three

Their dwelling hold; on swift wing free,
As busy bees from flower to flower
Pass ever the glad sisterhood,
Gathering sweet honey-such their food,
Whose heads are white, as if with meal
O'ersprinkled-These alone reveal
And teach their art of prophecy,
And singular the gift that I
Coveted from my early day,

When wont among the herds to stray;
Nor was my sire, great Jove, concern'd,

you,

Ensuring safety and success ;)

Beauteous the rod three-leaved and golden.

And whatsoe'er, by word or will,
Jove would command, it will express
And teach the duty to fulfil.
But for this art of divination,

That, my good son of Jove, forbear,
Nor further ask me to declare
Unlawful the communication
To thee or any other god;
It is the secret of Jove's mind, and I
Gave my most solemn oath and nod,
When first it pleased him to bestow
On me the gift, no deity

Beside myself should ever know

On this invigorating fare

Feeding, enthusiast, they declare,
With liberal speech, their art and truth;
But, that denied, with little ruth,
Entice their scholars far away

To many a false and wildering way.
To these will I present you, well
To question them, and learn the spell,
And sacred mystery to foretell:
Perchance, then mortals may frequent
The shrine of Hermes eloquent.
Such is my promise, this my gift,
Fair son of Maia now to thrift

With rod of gold-no tongue discloses

And diligence, good herdsman's rules ;
Tend you the herds, laborious mules,
Horses, and cloven-footed kine,
Grim gaping lions, white-tooth'd swine,
The howling wolves, and horrid leopards,
Dogs, sheep, and whatsoe'er the earth

The counsels that in his deep bosom lie. Ask then no further, brother gifted

ed;

The future leave as he disposes;
While I alone in my vocation
Must traverse earth, in duty strict
Towards man of every tribe and nation,

This to delight and that afflict.
And mortals, whosoe'er consult
Th' appointed birds of augury,
Their notes and flight, these learn of me
And in my voice of truth exult;
But whatsoe'er of men below

More than the gods shall seek to know,
And question all false chattering birds,
Shall trust in idle sounds and words,
In error's paths go wide astray,

And throw their precious offerings all

Hermes shall be the prince of shepherds-
Hermes, the only true instructor,
To Pluto's realms the sole conductor,
Thus giving, though unapt to give,
The gift of death to all that live."

Thus King Apollo loved the son
Of Maia with all love; and grace,
And favour most especial, and good place
Amid th' immortal throng from Jove he won.
With gods and men hence Hermes tarries,
The last of whom he seldom pleases;
But oft'ner o' dark nights he harries,
And by his thefts vexatious teases.
Yet, hail fair son of Maia, hail!
Or rather, since I needs must tell
Of other gods another tale,
Till in new rhymes I mention thee, farewell!