And seized him:—‘By this omen I shall trace
My noble herds, and you shall lead the way.’—
Cyllenian Hermes from the grassy place,
400
Like one in earnest haste to get away,
Rose, and with hands lifted towards his face
Round both his ears up from his shoulders drew
His swaddling clothes, and—‘What mean you to do
LII
‘With me, you unkind God?’—said Mercury:
405
‘Is it about these cows you tease me so?
I wish the race of cows were perished!—I
Stole not your cows—I do not even know
What things cows are. Alas! I well may sigh
That, since I came into this world of woe,
410
I should have ever heard the name of one—
But I appeal to the Saturnian’s throne.’
LIII
Thus Phoebus and the vagrant Mercury
Talked without coming to an explanation,
With adverse purpose. As for Phoebus, he
415
Sought not revenge, but only information,
And Hermes tried with lies and roguery
To cheat Apollo.—But when no evasion
Served—for the cunning one his match had found—
He paced on first over the sandy ground.
LIV
· · · · · · ·
420
He of the Silver Bow the child of Jove
Followed behind, till to their heavenly Sire
Came both his children, beautiful as Love,
And from his equal balance did require
A judgement in the cause wherein they strove.
425
O’er odorous Olympus and its snows
A murmuring tumult as they came arose,—
LV
And from the folded depths of the great Hill,
While Hermes and Apollo reverent stood
Before Jove’s throne, the indestructible
430
Immortals rushed in mighty multitude;
And whilst their seats in order due they fill,
The lofty Thunderer in a careless mood
To Phoebus said:—‘Whence drive you this sweet prey,
This herald-baby, born but yesterday?—
LVI
435
‘A most important subject, trifler, this
To lay before the Gods!’—‘Nay, Father, nay,
When you have understood the business,
Say not that I alone am fond of prey.
I found this little boy in a recess
440
Under Cyllene’s mountains far away—
A manifest and most apparent thief,
A scandalmonger beyond all belief.
LVII
‘I never saw his like either in Heaven
Or upon earth for knavery or craft:—
445
Out of the field my cattle yester-even,
By the low shore on which the loud sea laughed,
He right down to the river-ford had driven;
And mere astonishment would make you daft
To see the double kind of footsteps strange
450
He has impressed wherever he did range.
LVIII
‘The cattle’s track on the black dust, full well
Is evident, as if they went towards
The place from which they came—that asphodel
Meadow, in which I feed my many herds,—
455
His steps were most incomprehensible—
I know not how I can describe in words
Those tracks—he could have gone along the sands
Neither upon his feet nor on his hands;—
LIX
‘He must have had some other stranger mode
460
Of moving on: those vestiges immense,
Far as I traced them on the sandy road,
Seemed like the trail of oak-toppings:—but thence
No mark nor track denoting where they trod
The hard ground gave:—but, working at his fence,
465
A mortal hedger saw him as he passed
To Pylos, with the cows, in fiery haste.
LX
‘I found that in the dark he quietly
Had sacrified some cows, and before light
Had thrown the ashes all dispersedly
470
About the road—then, still as gloomy night,
Had crept into his cradle, either eye
Rubbing, and cogitating some new sleight,
No eagle could have seen him as he lay
Hid in his cavern from the peering day.
LXI
475
‘I taxed him with the fact, when he averred
Most solemnly that he did neither see
Nor even had in any manner heard
Of my lost cows, whatever things cows be;
Nor could he tell, though offered a reward,
480
Not even who could tell of them to me.’
So speaking, Phoebus sate; and Hermes then
Addressed the Supreme Lord of Gods and Men:—
LXII
‘Great Father, you know clearly beforehand
That all which I shall say to you is sooth;
485
I am a most veracious person, and
Totally unacquainted with untruth.
At sunrise Phoebus came, but with no band
Of Gods to bear him witness, in great wrath,
To my abode, seeking his heifers there,
490
And saying that I must show him where they are,
LXIII
‘Or he would hurl me down the dark abyss.
I know that every Apollonian limb
Is clothed with speed and might and manliness,
As a green bank with flowers—but unlike him
495
I was born yesterday, and you may guess
He well knew this when he indulged the whim
Of bullying a poor little new-born thing
That slept, and never thought of cow-driving.
LXIV
‘Am I like a strong fellow who steals kine?
500
Believe me, dearest Father—such you are—
This driving of the herds is none of mine;
Across my threshold did I wander ne’er,
So may I thrive! I reverence the divine
Sun and the Gods, and I love you, and care
505
Even for this hard accuser—who must know
I am as innocent as they or you.
LXV
‘I swear by these most gloriously-wrought portals
(It is, you will allow, an oath of might)
Through which the multitude of the Immortals
510
Pass and repass forever, day and night,
Devising schemes for the affairs of mortals—
That I am guiltless; and I will requite,
Although mine enemy be great and strong,
His cruel threat—do thou defend the young!’
LXVI
515
So speaking, the Cyllenian Argiphont
Winked, as if now his adversary was fitted:—
And Jupiter, according to his wont,
Laughed heartily to hear the subtle-witted
Infant give such a plausible account,
520
And every word a lie. But he remitted
Judgement at present—and his exhortation
Was, to compose the affair by arbitration.
LXVII
And they by mighty Jupiter were bidden
To go forth with a single purpose both,
525
Neither the other chiding nor yet chidden:
And Mercury with innocence and truth
To lead the way, and show where he had hidden
The mighty heifers.—Hermes, nothing loth,
Obeyed the Aegis-bearer’s will—for he
530
Is able to persuade all easily.
LXVIII
These lovely children of Heaven’s highest Lord
Hastened to Pylos and the pastures wide
And lofty stalls by the Alphean ford,
Where wealth in the mute night is multiplied
535
With silent growth. Whilst Hermes drove the herd
Out of the stony cavern, Phoebus spied
The hides of those the little babe had slain,
Stretched on the precipice above the plain.
LXIX
‘How was it possible,’ then Phoebus said,
540
‘That you, a little child, born yesterday,
A thing on mother’s milk and kisses fed,
Could two prodigious heifers ever flay?
Even I myself may well hereafter dread
Your prowess, offspring of Cyllenian May,
545
When you grow strong and tall.’—He spoke, and bound
Stiff withy bands the infant’s wrists around,
LXX
He might as well have bound the oxen wild;
The withy bands, though starkly interknit,
Fell at the feet of the immortal child,
550
Loosened by some device of his quick wit.
Phoebus perceived himself again beguiled,
And stared—while Hermes sought some hole or pit,
Looking askance and winking fast as thought,
Where he might hide himself and not be caught.
LXXI
555
Sudden he changed his plan, and with strange skill
Subdued the strong Latonian, by the might
Of winning music, to his mightier will;
His left hand held the lyre, and in his right
The plectrum struck the chords—unconquerable
560
Up from beneath his hand in circling flight
The gathering music rose—and sweet as Love
The penetrating notes did live and move
LXXII
Within the heart of great Apollo—he
Listened with all his soul, and laughed for pleasure.
565
Close to his side stood harping fearlessly
The unabashèd boy; and to the measure
Of the sweet lyre, there followed loud and free
His joyous voice; for he unlocked the treasure
Of his deep song, illustrating the birth
570
Of the bright Gods, and the dark desert Earth:
LXXIII
And how to the Immortals every one
A portion was assigned of all that is;
But chief Mnemosyne did Maia’s son
Clothe in the light of his loud melodies;—
575
And, as each God was born or had begun,
He in their order due and fit degrees
Sung of his birth and being—and did move
Apollo to unutterable love.
LXXIV
These words were wingèd with his swift delight:
580
‘You heifer-stealing schemer, well do you
Deserve that fifty oxen should requite
Such minstrelsies as I have heard even now.
Comrade of feasts, little contriving wight,
One of your secrets I would gladly know,
585
Whether the glorious power you now show forth
Was folded up within you at your birth,
LXXV
‘Or whether mortal taught or God inspired
The power of unpremeditated song?
Many divinest sounds have I admired,
590
The Olympian Gods and mortal men among;
But such a strain of wondrous, strange, untired,
And soul-awakening music, sweet and strong,
Yet did I never hear except from thee,
Offspring of May, impostor Mercury!
LXXVI
595
‘What Muse, what skill, what unimagined use,
What exercise of subtlest art, has given
Thy songs such power?—for those who hear may choose
From three, the choicest of the gifts of Heaven,
Delight, and love, and sleep,—sweet sleep, whose dews
600
Are sweeter than the balmy tears of even:—
And I, who speak this praise, am that Apollo
Whom the Olympian Muses ever follow:
LXXVII
‘And their delight is dance, and the blithe noise
Of song and overflowing poesy;
605
And sweet, even as desire, the liquid voice
Of pipes, that fills the clear air thrillingly;
But never did my inmost soul rejoice
In this dear work of youthful revelry
As now. I wonder at thee, son of Jove;
610
Thy harpings and thy song are soft as love.
LXXVIII
‘Now since thou hast, although so very small,
Science of arts so glorious, thus I swear,—
And let this cornel javelin, keen and tall,
Witness between us what I promise here,—
615
That I will lead thee to the Olympian Hall,
Honoured and mighty, with thy mother dear.
And many glorious gifts in joy will give thee,
And even at the end will ne’er deceive thee.’
LXXIX
To whom thus Mercury with prudent speech:—
620
‘Wisely hast thou inquirèd of my skill:
I envy thee no thing I know to teach
Even this day:—for both in word and will
I would be gentle with thee; thou canst reach
All things in thy wise spirit, and thy sill
625
Is highest in Heaven among the sons of Jove,
Who loves thee in the fulness of his love.
LXXX
‘The Counsellor Supreme has given to thee
Divinest gifts, out of the amplitude
Of his profuse exhaustless treasury;
630
By thee, ’tis said, the depths are understood
Of his far voice; by thee the mystery
Of all oracular fates,—and the dread mood
Of the diviner is breathed up; even I—
A child—perceive thy might and majesty.
LXXXI
635
‘Thou canst seek out and compass all that wit
Can find or teach;—yet since thou wilt, come take
The lyre—be mine the glory giving it—
Strike the sweet chords, and sing aloud, and wake
Thy joyous pleasure out of many a fit
640
Of trancèd sound—and with fleet fingers make
Thy liquid-voicèd comrade talk with thee,—
It can talk measured music eloquently.
LXXXII
‘Then bear it boldly to the revel loud,
Love-wakening dance, or feast of solemn state,
645
A joy by night or day—for those endowed
With art and wisdom who interrogate
It teaches, babbling in delightful mood
All things which make the spirit most elate,
Soothing the mind with sweet familiar play,
650
Chasing the heavy shadows of dismay.
LXXXIII
‘To those who are unskilled in its sweet tongue,
Though they should question most impetuously
Its hidden soul, it gossips something wrong—
Some senseless and impertinent reply.
655
But thou who art as w
ise as thou art strong
Canst compass all that thou desirest. I
Present thee with this music-flowing shell,
Knowing thou canst interrogate it well.
LXXXIV
‘And let us two henceforth together feed,
660
On this green mountain-slope and pastoral plain,
The herds in litigation—they will breed
Quickly enough to recompense our pain,
If to the bulls and cows we take good heed;—
And thou, though somewhat over fond of gain,
665
Grudge me not half the profit.’—Having spoke,
The shell he proffered, and Apollo took;
LXXXV
And gave him in return the glittering lash,
Installing him as herdsman;—from the look
Of Mercury then laughed a joyous flash.
670
And then Apollo with the plectrum strook
The chords, and from beneath his hands a crash
Of mighty sounds rushed up, whose music shook
The soul with sweetness, and like an adept
His sweeter voice a just accordance kept.
LXXXVI
675
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
680
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.
685
He piped the while, and far and wide rebounded
The Complete Poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley: (A Modern Library E-Book) Page 105