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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 shouldst steal my lyre and crooked


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,

LXXXIX. “ 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 Phæbus swore There was no God or man whom he loved more.


“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 :

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“For, dearest child, the divinations high

Which thou requirest, 'tis unlawful ever That thou, or any other deity, Should understand—and vain were the endea

vour; 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.


“ Him will I not deceive, but will assist ;

But he who comes relying on such birds
As chatter vainly, who would strain and twist

The purpose of the Gods with idle words,
And deems their knowledge light, he shall have

His road—whilst I among my other hoards
His gifts deposit. Yet, O son of May,
I have another wondrous thing to say:

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“ There are three Fates, three virgin Sisters, who,

Rejoicing in their wind-outspeeding wings, Their heads with flour snowed over white and new,

Sit in a vale round which Parnassus flings Its circling skirts—from these I have learned true

Vaticinations of remotest things. [dooms, My father cared not. Whilst they search out They sit apart and feed on honeycombs.


They, having eaten the fresh honey, grow

Drunk with divine enthusiasm, and utter With earnest willingness the truth they know;

But, if deprived of that sweet food, they mutter All plausible delusions ;--these to you

I give ;--if you inquire, they will not stutter; Delight your own soul with them :--any man You would instruct may profit if he can.


“ Take these and the fierce oxen, Maia's child

O'er many a horse and toil-enduring mule, O'er jagged-jawed lions, and the wild

White-tusked boars, o'er all, by field or pool, Of cattle which the mighty Mother mild

Nourishes in her bosom, thou shalt ruleThou dost alone the veil of death upliftThou givest not-yet this is a great gift."


Thus King Apollo loved the child of May
In truth, and Jove covered them with love and

joy. Hermes with Gods and men even from that day

Mingled, and wrought the latter much annoy, And little profit, going far astray Through the dun night. Farewell, delightful

Boy, Of Jove and Maia sprung-never by me, Nor thou, nor other songs, shall unremembered


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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 in 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


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