Percy Bysshe Shelley - Delphi Poets Series

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Dallied in love not quite legitimate;

  And his own birth, still scoffing at the scandal,

  And naming his own name, did celebrate; 75

  His mother’s cave and servant maids he planned all

  In plastic verse, her household stuff and state,

  Perennial pot, trippet, and brazen pan, —

  But singing, he conceived another plan.

  11.

  …

  Seized with a sudden fancy for fresh meat, 80

  He in his sacred crib deposited

  The hollow lyre, and from the cavern sweet

  Rushed with great leaps up to the mountain’s head,

  Revolving in his mind some subtle feat

  Of thievish craft, such as a swindler might 85

  Devise in the lone season of dun night.

  12.

  Lo! the great Sun under the ocean’s bed has

  Driven steeds and chariot — the child meanwhile strode

  O’er the Pierian mountains clothed in shadows,

  Where the immortal oxen of the God 90

  Are pastured in the flowering unmown meadows,

  And safely stalled in a remote abode. —

  The archer Argicide, elate and proud,

  Drove fifty from the herd, lowing aloud.

  13.

  He drove them wandering o’er the sandy way, 95

  But, being ever mindful of his craft,

  Backward and forward drove he them astray,

  So that the tracks which seemed before, were aft;

  His sandals then he threw to the ocean spray,

  And for each foot he wrought a kind of raft 100

  Of tamarisk, and tamarisk-like sprigs,

  And bound them in a lump with withy twigs.

  14.

  And on his feet he tied these sandals light,

  The trail of whose wide leaves might not betray

  His track; and then, a self-sufficing wight, 105

  Like a man hastening on some distant way,

  He from Pieria’s mountain bent his flight;

  But an old man perceived the infant pass

  Down green Onchestus heaped like beds with grass.

  15.

  The old man stood dressing his sunny vine: 110

  ‘Halloo! old fellow with the crooked shoulder!

  You grub those stumps? before they will bear wine

  Methinks even you must grow a little older:

  Attend, I pray, to this advice of mine,

  As you would ‘scape what might appal a bolder — 115

  Seeing, see not — and hearing, hear not — and —

  If you have understanding — understand.’

  16.

  So saying, Hermes roused the oxen vast;

  O’er shadowy mountain and resounding dell,

  And flower-paven plains, great Hermes passed; 120

  Till the black night divine, which favouring fell

  Around his steps, grew gray, and morning fast

  Wakened the world to work, and from her cell

  Sea-strewn, the Pallantean Moon sublime

  Into her watch-tower just began to climb. 125

  17.

  Now to Alpheus he had driven all

  The broad-foreheaded oxen of the Sun;

  They came unwearied to the lofty stall

  And to the water-troughs which ever run

  Through the fresh fields — and when with rushgrass tall, 130

  Lotus and all sweet herbage, every one

  Had pastured been, the great God made them move

  Towards the stall in a collected drove.

  18.

  A mighty pile of wood the God then heaped,

  And having soon conceived the mystery 135

  Of fire, from two smooth laurel branches stripped

  The bark, and rubbed them in his palms; — on high

  Suddenly forth the burning vapour leaped

  And the divine child saw delightedly. —

  Mercury first found out for human weal 140

  Tinder-box, matches, fire-irons, flint and steel.

  19.

  And fine dry logs and roots innumerous

  He gathered in a delve upon the ground —

  And kindled them — and instantaneous

  The strength of the fierce flame was breathed around: 145

  And whilst the might of glorious Vulcan thus

  Wrapped the great pile with glare and roaring sound,

  Hermes dragged forth two heifers, lowing loud,

  Close to the fire — such might was in the God.

  20.

  And on the earth upon their backs he threw 150

  The panting beasts, and rolled them o’er and o’er,

  And bored their lives out. Without more ado

  He cut up fat and flesh, and down before

  The fire, on spits of wood he placed the two,

  Toasting their flesh and ribs, and all the gore 155

  Pursed in the bowels; and while this was done

  He stretched their hides over a craggy stone.

  21.

  We mortals let an ox grow old, and then

  Cut it up after long consideration, —

  But joyous-minded Hermes from the glen 160

  Drew the fat spoils to the more open station

  Of a flat smooth space, and portioned them; and when

  He had by lot assigned to each a ration

  Of the twelve Gods, his mind became aware

  Of all the joys which in religion are. 165

  22.

  For the sweet savour of the roasted meat

  Tempted him though immortal. Natheless

  He checked his haughty will and did not eat,

  Though what it cost him words can scarce express,

  And every wish to put such morsels sweet 170

  Down his most sacred throat, he did repress;

  But soon within the lofty portalled stall

  He placed the fat and flesh and bones and all.

  23.

  And every trace of the fresh butchery

  And cooking, the God soon made disappear, 175

  As if it all had vanished through the sky;

  He burned the hoofs and horns and head and hair, —

  The insatiate fire devoured them hungrily; —

  And when he saw that everything was clear,

  He quenched the coal, and trampled the black dust, 180

  And in the stream his bloody sandals tossed.

  24.

  All night he worked in the serene moonshine —

  But when the light of day was spread abroad

  He sought his natal mountain-peaks divine.

  On his long wandering, neither Man nor God 185

  Had met him, since he killed Apollo’s kine,

  Nor house-dog had barked at him on his road;

  Now he obliquely through the keyhole passed,

  Like a thin mist, or an autumnal blast.

  25.

  Right through the temple of the spacious cave 190

  He went with soft light feet — as if his tread

  Fell not on earth; no sound their falling gave;

  Then to his cradle he crept quick, and spread

  The swaddling-clothes about him; and the knave

  Lay playing with the covering of the bed 195

  With his left hand about his knees — the right

  Held his beloved tortoise-lyre tight.

  26.

  There he lay innocent as a new-born child,

  As gossips say; but though he was a God,

  The Goddess, his fair mother, unbeguiled, 200

  Knew all that he had done being abroad:

  ‘Whence come you, and from what adventure wild,

  You cunning rogue, and where have you abode

  All the long night, clothed in your impudence?

  What have you done since you departed hence? 205

  27.

  ‘Apollo soon will pass with
in this gate

  And bind your tender body in a chain

  Inextricably tight, and fast as fate,

  Unless you can delude the God again,

  Even when within his arms — ah, runagate! 210

  A pretty torment both for Gods and Men

  Your father made when he made you!’—’Dear mother,’

  Replied sly Hermes, ‘wherefore scold and bother?

  28.

  ‘As if I were like other babes as old,

  And understood nothing of what is what; 215

  And cared at all to hear my mother scold.

  I in my subtle brain a scheme have got,

  Which whilst the sacred stars round Heaven are rolled

  Will profit you and me — nor shall our lot

  Be as you counsel, without gifts or food, 220

  To spend our lives in this obscure abode.

  29

  ‘But we will leave this shadow-peopled cave

  And live among the Gods, and pass each day

  In high communion, sharing what they have

  Of profuse wealth and unexhausted prey; 225

  And from the portion which my father gave

  To Phoebus, I will snatch my share away,

  Which if my father will not — natheless I,

  Who am the king of robbers, can but try.

  30.

  ‘And, if Latona’s son should find me out, 230

  I’ll countermine him by a deeper plan;

  I’ll pierce the Pythian temple-walls, though stout,

  And sack the fane of everything I can —

  Caldrons and tripods of great worth no doubt,

  Each golden cup and polished brazen pan, 235

  All the wrought tapestries and garments gay.’ —

  So they together talked; — meanwhile the Day

  31.

  Aethereal born arose out of the flood

  Of flowing Ocean, bearing light to men.

  Apollo passed toward the sacred wood, 240

  Which from the inmost depths of its green glen

  Echoes the voice of Neptune, — and there stood

  On the same spot in green Onchestus then

  That same old animal, the vine-dresser,

  Who was employed hedging his vineyard there. 245

  32.

  Latona’s glorious Son began:—’I pray

  Tell, ancient hedger of Onchestus green,

  Whether a drove of kine has passed this way,

  All heifers with crooked horns? for they have been

  Stolen from the herd in high Pieria, 250

  Where a black bull was fed apart, between

  Two woody mountains in a neighbouring glen,

  And four fierce dogs watched there, unanimous as men.

  33.

  ‘And what is strange, the author of this theft

  Has stolen the fatted heifers every one, 255

  But the four dogs and the black bull are left: —

  Stolen they were last night at set of sun,

  Of their soft beds and their sweet food bereft. —

  Now tell me, man born ere the world begun,

  Have you seen any one pass with the cows?’ — 260

  To whom the man of overhanging brows:

  34.

  ‘My friend, it would require no common skill

  Justly to speak of everything I see:

  On various purposes of good or ill

  Many pass by my vineyard, — and to me 265

  ‘Tis difficult to know the invisible

  Thoughts, which in all those many minds may be: —

  Thus much alone I certainly can say,

  I tilled these vines till the decline of day,

  35.

  ‘And then I thought I saw, but dare not speak 270

  With certainty of such a wondrous thing,

  A child, who could not have been born a week,

  Those fair-horned cattle closely following,

  And in his hand he held a polished stick:

  And, as on purpose, he walked wavering 275

  From one side to the other of the road,

  And with his face opposed the steps he trod.’

  36.

  Apollo hearing this, passed quickly on —

  No winged omen could have shown more clear

  That the deceiver was his father’s son. 280

  So the God wraps a purple atmosphere

  Around his shoulders, and like fire is gone

  To famous Pylos, seeking his kine there,

  And found their track and his, yet hardly cold,

  And cried—’What wonder do mine eyes behold! 285

  37.

  ‘Here are the footsteps of the horned herd

  Turned back towards their fields of asphodel; —

  But THESE are not the tracks of beast or bird,

  Gray wolf, or bear, or lion of the dell,

  Or maned Centaur — sand was never stirred 290

  By man or woman thus! Inexplicable!

  Who with unwearied feet could e’er impress

  The sand with such enormous vestiges?

  38.

  ‘That was most strange — but this is stranger still!’

  Thus having said, Phoebus impetuously 295

  Sought high Cyllene’s forest-cinctured hill,

  And the deep cavern where dark shadows lie,

  And where the ambrosial nymph with happy will

  Bore the Saturnian’s love-child, Mercury —

  And a delightful odour from the dew 300

  Of the hill pastures, at his coming, flew.

  39.

  And Phoebus stooped under the craggy roof

  Arched over the dark cavern: — Maia’s child

  Perceived that he came angry, far aloof,

  About the cows of which he had been beguiled; 305

  And over him the fine and fragrant woof

  Of his ambrosial swaddling-clothes he piled —

  As among fire-brands lies a burning spark

  Covered, beneath the ashes cold and dark.

  40.

  There, like an infant who had sucked his fill 310

  And now was newly washed and put to bed,

  Awake, but courting sleep with weary will,

  And gathered in a lump, hands, feet, and head,

  He lay, and his beloved tortoise still

  He grasped and held under his shoulder-blade. 315

  Phoebus the lovely mountain-goddess knew,

  Not less her subtle, swindling baby, who

  41.

  Lay swathed in his sly wiles. Round every crook

  Of the ample cavern, for his kine, Apollo

  Looked sharp; and when he saw them not, he took 320

  The glittering key, and opened three great hollow

  Recesses in the rock — where many a nook

  Was filled with the sweet food immortals swallow,

  And mighty heaps of silver and of gold

  Were piled within — a wonder to behold! 325

  42.

  And white and silver robes, all overwrought

  With cunning workmanship of tracery sweet —

  Except among the Gods there can be nought

  In the wide world to be compared with it.

  Latona’s offspring, after having sought 330

  His herds in every corner, thus did greet

  Great Hermes:—’Little cradled rogue, declare

  Of my illustrious heifers, where they are!

  43.

  ‘Speak quickly! or a quarrel between us

  Must rise, and the event will be, that I 335

  Shall hurl you into dismal Tartarus,

  In fiery gloom to dwell eternally;

  Nor shall your father nor your mother loose

  The bars of that black dungeon — utterly

  You shall be cast out from the light of day, 340

  To rule the ghosts of men, unblessed as they.

  44.

  To whom thu
s Hermes slily answered:—’Son

  Of great Latona, what a speech is this!

  Why come you here to ask me what is done

  With the wild oxen which it seems you miss? 345

  I have not seen them, nor from any one

  Have heard a word of the whole business;

  If you should promise an immense reward,

  I could not tell more than you now have heard.

  45.

  ‘An ox-stealer should be both tall and strong, 350

  And I am but a little new-born thing,

  Who, yet at least, can think of nothing wrong: —

  My business is to suck, and sleep, and fling

  The cradle-clothes about me all day long, —

  Or half asleep, hear my sweet mother sing, 355

  And to be washed in water clean and warm,

  And hushed and kissed and kept secure from harm.

  46.

  ‘O, let not e’er this quarrel be averred!

  The astounded Gods would laugh at you, if e’er

  You should allege a story so absurd 360

  As that a new-born infant forth could fare

  Out of his home after a savage herd.

  I was born yesterday — my small feet are

  Too tender for the roads so hard and rough: —

  And if you think that this is not enough, 365

  47.

  I swear a great oath, by my father’s head,

  That I stole not your cows, and that I know

  Of no one else, who might, or could, or did. —

  Whatever things cows are, I do not know,

  For I have only heard the name.’ — This said 370

  He winked as fast as could be, and his brow

  Was wrinkled, and a whistle loud gave he,

  Like one who hears some strange absurdity.

  48.

  Apollo gently smiled and said:—’Ay, ay, —

  You cunning little rascal, you will bore 375

  Many a rich man’s house, and your array

  Of thieves will lay their siege before his door,

  Silent as night, in night; and many a day

  In the wild glens rough shepherds will deplore

  That you or yours, having an appetite, 380

  Met with their cattle, comrade of the night!

  49.

  ‘And this among the Gods shall be your gift,

  To be considered as the lord of those

  Who swindle, house-break, sheep-steal, and shop-lift; —

  But now if you would not your last sleep doze; 385

  Crawl out!’ — Thus saying, Phoebus did uplift

  The subtle infant in his swaddling clothes,

  And in his arms, according to his wont,

  A scheme devised the illustrious Argiphont.

  50.

  …

  …

  And sneezed and shuddered — Phoebus on the grass 390

  Him threw, and whilst all that he had designed

  He did perform — eager although to pass,

  Apollo darted from his mighty mind