Classic Poem

The Hymn to Hermes now the Muses raise,
Cyllene's and Arcadia's plains who sways,
Arcadia fair, where flock unnumber'd rove,
Hermes, the son of Maia and of Jove;
The fair-hair'd Maia, who from Jove's embrace
Bore the swift herald of the ethereal race;
Far from the synod of the heavenly crowd,
In a dark cave that gloomy forests shroud,
Wrap'd in the shade of night, while far away
In slumbers deep the white-arm'd Juno lay,
To mortals and immortals all unknown,
The son of Saturn loos'd her virgin zone.
But when, the amorous stealth no more conceal'd,
Ten circling months the Thunderer's will reveal'd,
The godlike child sprung forth; a gentle smile
Spoke his light breast, the seat of many a wile.
Skill'd to purloin the herd with playful slight,
And rule the shadowy visions of the night,
Destin'd amid the' immortals to display
Actions of wonder in one short-liv'd day.
At morning born, beneath the noontide fire
He struck with infant hand the thrilling lyre;
And at the close of eve, in festive play,
He drove Apollo's favourite herds away.
No cradle long his active limbs confin'd,
But rushing forth, he sought with eager mind
The gloomy cave, where deep conceal'd from day
The lowing kine of mighty Phaebus lay.
Before the rock a tortoise slow he found,
Browzing the flowery produce of the found
Doom'd to become, in future lapse of time,
Of joy, of wealth, of fame the source sublime.
For Hermes first inspir'd the hollow shell
The rapturous strain of harmony to swell.
He smiled and said; — " Symbol of tuneful worth!
Thou shalt not lie neglected on the earth.
Hail, sacred parent of the Æolian strain,
Thou shalt not here mid mountain shades remain;
I'll bear thee hence; and the high polish'd dome,
Enchanting shell! shall be thy future home:
Then shall we both man's fix'd attention claim,
And each on each reflect a mutual fame.
Better than breathing, thus inglorious laid,
Unknown and silent on the woodland glade.
By death awak'd to glory, proudly shine,
Swelling the lays of harmony divine."
He said: — and straight within the splendid door
His steady arms the precious burden bore:
The trenchant steel his ready hand prepares,
And from the shell the mountain tortoise tears.
As in man's mind, with fire celestial fraught,
Still thought in quick succession follows thought;
So in the' immortal's wish will quick succeed,
To the intent, the full accomplish'd deed.
To the strong shell the reeds he first applied,
And o'er the surface drew the stubborn hide;
Next from the fleecy sheep the entrails wrung,
His skilful hands seven chords symphonious strung;
Then struck the lyre — loud sound the trembling strings,
While to the strain his voice preluding sings.
The heavenly minstrel in his infant lays
The loves of Jove and Maia first displays:
Then all the menial train the dome who grace,
The massy tripod and the shining vase.
Such the pretences of his childish strain;
But other thoughts deep in his breast remain.
Eager for prey, he hides the hollow lyre,
And to the mountain-brow his steps aspire,
While o'er his mind such thoughts usurp a power
As urge the robber in the midnight hour.
To ocean's sable waves from darkening heaven
His fiery car and coursers Sol had driven
When Hermes sought Pieria's mountain-shades,
Where herds immortal graz'd the flowery glades.
Then fifty kine, selected from the grove,
O'er the deep sands the heavenly plunderer drove.
Backward he drove — that, printed on the ground
Reverse, the footsteps might pursuit confound.
His shining sandals leaving on the strand,
An artful work his ready fancy plann'd;
With leafy shrubs, pluck'd from Pieria's grove,
A safeguard for his feet his fingers wove;
Defended thus, declining from his way,
Through desultory paths he seem'd to stray.
Passing by fair Onchestus' grassy plain,
Planting his vines he saw an aged swain,
When Maia's son the hoary sire address'd: —
" O thou, who labouring bend'st to earth thy breast,
The sapless root inserting in the soil;
O may the vigorous shoots repay thy toil!
Though hearing, yet be deaf; though seeing, blind;
So shall the favouring powers of heaven be kind."
He said; and through wild woods and flowery meads,
And hollow winding vales, the herd he leads.
But now the night her welcome veil withdrew,
And wide her ruddy beams Aurora threw:
While, newly risen, her crescent Luna hung;
Luna from Pallas, mighty monarch, sprung.
And now his cares the herds of Phaebus guide,
Where bright Alpheus rolls his silver tide:
In the high stall the lowing kine he feeds,
Beside the glassy lake and verdant meads;
In the close walls his cares the herds confine,
And heap the rack with provender divine:
Then piles of wither'd wood collecting round,
Artful to swell the cheering flame he found;
Laurel and palm upon the mass he cast,
The green boughs crackling in the kindling blast.
By Hermes taught, thus mortals learn'd to raise
From artificial fire the cheering blaze:
Increasing fuel on the pile he threw,
And far and wide the sparks resplendent flew.
As Vulcan swells the flames, his mighty breast
Two of the herd selecting from the rest,
Beside the pyre he draws; there stretch'd they
Beneath his weighty blows, and struggling die;
The limbs he sever'd from the' enclosing hide,
The fat and flesh his ready hands divide;
Transfix the sacred loins with pointed wood,
And in a caul secure the sable blood.
The hide extended to the rock to brought,
(Such modern use by ancient custom taught)
Then in twelve parts divides with pious mind,
Each part to some superior power assign'd.
As the rich viands round their fumes dispense,
The odours, though a god, o'ercome his sense.
Yet not the sacred off'rings would he taste,
But on the lofty stall respectful plac'd.
Then with dry wood the sinking fire relumes,
And all the offals in the blaze consumes.
But when each consecrated rite was past,
His sandals in Alpheus' stream he cast:
Then quench'd the flame, the embers hid with care,
For Luna's beams illum'd the midnight air.
But when the radiant beams of morning glow,
His steps returning, reach Cyllene's brow:
Nor god nor man obstruct his silent way,
Nor watchful dogs his secret path betray;
But like the misty vapours that arise,
And wrap in deepening gloom the' autumnal skies,
Friended by favouring Jove, the evening hour
Brought him in safety to his natal bower:
Thence issuing from the cave his footsteps gain,
Light treading o'er the soil, the sacred fane.
Then to the genial couch he gently flew,
And o'er his limbs his infant vesture drew;
His head reclining, while his careful hand
Grasp'd firm the vocal shell his skill had plann'd.
Yet not conceal'd the infant god could lie,
But met his goddess-mother's searching eye.
" Whither, (she cried) young vagrant, hast thou stray'd?
Where hast thou wander'd through the midnight shade?
Soon shall, incens'd, Latona's son divine
In fetters strong thy wayward limbs confine.
Which thus escaping from the lofty dome,
Through the wild woods in search of plunder roam.
Return — for surely Jove thy power design'd
Alike the scourge of gods and humankind."
In artful speech young Hermes thus replies: —
" Say whence, my mother, these reproofs arise?
Why rate you thus the offspring of a god,
Like a weak infant trembling 'neath the rod?
Know, great designs are brooding in this heart,
To thee and me which glory shall impart.
Not here confin'd, of all the' immortal band
Conceal'd and unrewarded shall we stand
Doom'd to oblivion by thy harsh command?
Better to mix with heaven's ethereal race,
While herds and treasur'd gold our altars grace,
Than in a cave obscure, remote from day,
Wear in inglorious sloth the years away. —
No! may such splendid honours crown my head
As round Apollo's radiant temples spread:
And if my mighty sire refuse his aid,
Be by myself my prosperous fortunes made;
The artful leader of some daring band,
Who roves for riches through the plunder'd land.
And should Latona's son obstruct my course,
He'd meet an equal or superior force. —
But now to Pytho's fane sublime I haste,
By tripods rich, and massy vases grac'd;
Gold, steel, and splendid vestments thence I'll bear;
Yourself the deed shall witness, if you dare."
Thus in alternate speech, fair Maia strove
With Hermes, son of Ægis-bearing Jove. —
Emerging now from hoary ocean's bed,
Around her cheering rays Aurora shed:
When to Onchestus' fields Apollo goes,
Where the fair grove to Neptune sacred rose.
Far from the path he saw the aged swain,
His vineyard tending on the verdant plain,
When thus Apollo: — " Sire, whose feeble hands
Clear from rude thorns and briars Onchestus" lands,
I come from fair Pieria's distant shade,
To seek my herds that from the fold have stray'd,
All females, — deck'd with crooked horns each head,
Far, far all of the subtle bull still fed.
Four faithful dogs constant their steps pursued,
Nearly with human prudence each endued.
Yet, wonderful to tell! with vagrant mind,
The bull and faithful guardians left behind:
The heifers (newly set the evening sun)
From the green meads and fertile pastures run.
Say, hoary father, if you chanc'd to see
Some wily plunderer drive them o'er the lea.
" 'Tis hard, O friend! (the ancient sire replied)
All to declare the eye may have descried:
The weary way since many travellers tread,
By evil some, and some by virtue led:
And not to human wisdom is assign'd
To trace the' intention of each different mind.
From morn till dusky eve, with ceaseless toil,
My vines I planted in the fertile soil,
And here I saw, or seem'd at least to see,
(For aged sight from doubt is seldom free)
An infant boy conduct a horny band,
A slender sapling grasping in his hand,
Backward he led with guileful care along,
In desultory pace the lowing throng."
Thus spoke the hoary swain, and from his sight
Swifter than speech Apollo wing'd his flight,
On outstretch'd pinion through the air he flew,
For Jove's young son he in the robber knew.
With rapid step the Pylian shore he gains,
Seeking his heifers on the sandy plains;
The radiant glories of a purple cloud
From human sight his ample shoulders shroud;
The power divine, the footsteps tracing, cries —
" What wondrous object this that strikes my eyes!
Of cattle these the steps — but they recede
Toward the rich pasture and the verdant mead.
In those that follow, nor appear the trace
Of footsteps form'd by man's superior race,
Nor of wild wolves and bears the savage train,
Nor of fleet stags or bulls that haunt the plain.
Hard was his task, and arduous was his deed,
Who such mysterious limbs endued with speed."
Onward Apollo sprung with active bound,
And reach'd Cyllene's heights with forests crown'd.
In the deep cave, where, won by potent love,
Maia, the child bore to Saturnian Jove.
Ambrosial odours spread the hill around,
And herds unnumber'd graz'd the fertile ground:
Descending through the stony valve, the god
The grotto's deep recess indignant trod.
Soon as the son of Jove and Maia saw,
Inflam'd with rage, stern Phaebus near him draw;
As the heap'd cinders on the blazing pyre
Conceal the radiance of the glowing fire,
So in his fragrant cradle Hermes tried
From bright Apollo's kindling rage to hide;
His head, his hands, his legs contracted kept,
As if by rural toil fatigued he slept:
The while, his new-form'd lyre from open view
Concealing, round his careful arm he threw.
To Phaebus stood at once reveal'd the truth,
He knew the mountain nymph and wily youth;
Infant in form, but skill'd in every art
That long experienc'd cunning could impart.
Ranging with curious eye the dome around,
Three deep recesses in the rock he found,
Where nectar and ambrosial food abound.
While heaps of treasur'd gold their wealth display'd,
And many a white and purple vest was laid:
Such as with rich and polish'd texture shine
Within the portals of a dome divine.
Exploring thus with care each deep recess,
Latonius' words the subtle god address:
" Thou cradled infant, but in fraud grown old,
Where thou hast driven my heifers, quick unfold!
Else shalt thou learn to dread the fatal hour,
Thou dar'st to trifle with superior power.
Far from the cheering light of azure heaven,
To the dark gloom of gulfs Tartarean driven. —
Thy mother weak — weak even thy father's sway
Again to bring thee to the realms of day."
Mercurius thus, in artful speech, replies,
" Say, Phaebus, whence these cruel words arise?
Why seek'st thou here thy wandering herds? — unknown
To me their vagrant footsteps whither gone.
My strength can not in such pursuits engage,
Far other wants employ my infant age.
'Tis mine in slumber undisturb'd to rest,
Or draw sweet nurture from my mother's breast;
My shoulders swath'd, while from the limpid wave
My tender limbs the tepid currents lave.
Who can conceive whence such a strife could rise —
A wonder mid the synod of the skies —
A child to light and life but newly brought
To steal thy herds — with folly teems the thought.
All must acquit an infant born to-day,
So feeble are my feet, so rude the way.
If more you ask, in conscious truth secure
My father's awful head, lo I adjure!
That guiltless of the deed myself I stand,
Nor knew what other mind the plunder plann'd."
He said, his eyelids opening just to view,
While round his eyes in vacant gaze he threw;
Murmuring as one from vacant slumber broke,
While, softly smiling, thus Apollo spoke.
" Thou dear deceitful boy! if I can read
Aright, the deeds by future fate decreed,
Thy fruitful mind with many an artful wile,
The wondering race of mortals shall beguile;
Now, screen'd beneath dark midnight's fav'ring shade,
The empty dome thy footsteps shall pervade,
Now the known terror of the shepherd swain,
His flocks and herds purloining from the plain. —
But come, lest sleep eternal close thine eye,
Come, and with me through night's deep shadows fly;
While this among the gods shall be thy boast,
The first great leader of the pilfering host."
He said, and bore Cyllenius from the cave,
The infant god the' auspicious omen gave.
Young Hermes on the earth Apollo plac'd,
And sat attentive, though impell'd by haste;
Then thus exhorting spoke; " Fruit of the love
Of beauteous Maia and of thundering Jove,
Cheer'd by this omen now secure I go
To find my herds. — Lead on; the path you know.
Hermes sprung on the Archer-god to lead,
Though his swath'd limbs his rapid course impede.
" Why must we thus speed on with agile feet,
(Cries Hermes) guiltless I of all deceit?
Perish the horned race, if thus the cause
That on my head thine indignation draws.
Unconscious of the theft myself, I stand;
Unconscious who the midnight plunder plann'd.
But to Saturnian Jove, lo! I appeal;
He'll judge the contest, and the truth reveal."
Fair Maia's son, and bright Latona's heir,
Alternate thus their different minds declare;
While this with truth the subtle god arraigns
For the herds pilfer'd from the fertile plains:
With plausive accents that, in artful mood,
The heavenly archer labours to delude.
Intent on fraud and guile, with eager haste
Swift o'er the sandy plain Cyllenius pac'd:
With dignity behind, while slowly moves
The son of Jove and fair Latona's loves.
Soon on sublime Olympus' fragrant height
The gods appear, before their parent's sight,
Saturnian Jove: in whose impartial hand
The equal scales of truth and justice stand.
Swift through Olympus' seats the rumours sound,
And all the' immortal synod crowd around.
Hermes, and he who bears the silver bow,
Anxious await their sire's award to know. —
At length high thundering Jove the silence broke,
And to his Archer-son inquiring spoke: —
" Apollo say, what cause induc'd thy breast
This new-born infant, like a herald dress'd,
Hither to bring, where deeds of mighty weight
Alone engage the' eternal gods' debate?"
When Phaebus thus: " O sire, thy listening ear
Nor deed nor word of trivial weight shall hear.
Am I to blame? — is theft my sole employ? —
This leader of deceit, this fraudful boy,
Passing o'er many a lengthen'd space of ground,
Amid Cyllene's mountains hoar I found,
Bold beyond all I've seen of heavenly birth,
Beyond the wily race who plunder earth,
My herds he drove 'neath Hesper's twilight reign
From their rich pastures to the roaring main,
Backward their steps the vagrant heifers trod,
Wond'rous to man, the labour of a god!
The footsteps printed on the yielding sand
The search elude of each pursuing hand,
While lightly gliding o'er the' impressive way,
No marks the vestige of the god betray.
But, strange to tell! — the' imprinted tracks remain
As sapling oaks were dragg'd across the plain.
But passing from the sand to firmer ground,
Nor of the herd or god a trace was found:
Till to an eye of mortal race 'twas given
To see the wide-horn'd kine to Pylos driven.
Secluded there, he bids the kindling fire
In piles divided to the skies aspire;
While dark as night, conceal'd the infant lay,
Skreen'd in his cradle from the beams of day.
Safe from an eagle's sight, in sleepy guise,
He rubs, or seems to rub, his closing eyes,
While specious words, that wiles fallacious frame,
All sense, all knowledge of the theft disclaim."
Apollo ceas'd — when thus, with artful breast,
Hermes the sire of gods and men address'd: —
" O father Jove! the voice of truth believe;
(For ne'er my voice was tutor'd to deceive)
When Sol just rising sow'd the' ethereal flame,
Seeking his herds, to me Apollo came.
From him injurious threatenings I endur'd,
No witness call'd on, and no god adjur'd;
Mature himself in youth's full blooming pride,
Me, but a new-born infant, he defied;
And, yester-morn just bursting from the womb,
Threaten'd to plunge in deep Tartarean gloom. —
Thou know'st — for thou avow'st thyself my sire —
My happy lot no plunder can require;
Nor have my feet to pass the threshold tried,
So conscious truth asserts with honest pride;
The glorious sun, and all the heavenly host,
Thee, and ev'n him, to honour is my boast. —
These sacred seats of glory I adjure
To prove, what well thou know'st, my bosom pure.
Soon may these cruel insults be repaid,
Mighty though he, for thou the weak wilt aid."
With half-clos'd eyes, but deep delusive mind,
Thus Hermes spoke, by infant swathes confin'd.
Jove laugh'd aloud, to hear the subtle youth
With specious language thus impugn the truth.
He bade each give the' unseemly contest o'er,
Nor heaven disturb with rude invective more;
Bade Hermes then unfold with guileless mind
Where Phaebus might his wandering heifers find. —
Aweful the mighty thunderer's eyebrows move,
Hermes obeys — who thwarts the will of Jove? —
Together now Saturnius' sons explore
The Pylian sands, and wide Alpheus' shore,
Till the fenc'd fields and cote, attract the sight,
Which the herds shelter through the hours of night.
Here Hermes entering, through the stony cave,
Open to view the hidden cattle gave.
Aloft Latonius saw each victim's hide,
And thus, inquiring, to Cyllenius cried:
" How could thy infant arms, O wond'rous boy!
Just wak'd to life, two vigorous beasts destroy?
Thy future strength with wonder I divine,
If years can add to native strength like thine."
Of shrubs that sprung beneath their feet they wove
The pliant twigs, and, turning to the drove,
Binding them each to each, (so Hermes taught)
Forth from the cave with ease the herds they brought.
Phaebus admires his skill; — in artful guise
While Hermes turn'd aside his sparkling eyes.
For well he knew, with heaven-directed skill,
To win the' eternal archer to his will.
Strong though he be; for with celestial fire,
Grasping the shell, he struck the trembling wire,
With rapture warbled each symphonious string;
The strains melodious sooth'd the Archer-king.
With joy unfelt before his passions swell,
And his heart vibrates to the enchanting shell.
Mercurius close to Phaebus' side remains,
His voice preluding to the sounding strains,
And pours in fervid ecstasy along
The rapturous current of immortal song.
He sung the' eternal gods, the' obscurer earth,
How they were form'd, and whence deriv'd their birth:
But chief of all, Mnemosyne he sung,
That power from whom the sacred Muses sprung.
Alternate then he prais'd the' inferior powers,
Rang'd by their dignity, or natal hours.
Deep sunk the thrilling notes in Phaebus' breast,
And his wing'd words the stripling thus address'd:
" O thou, whose art has plann'd this new delight,
This sweet addition to the festal rite,
With joy for this I give my fifty kine;
Henceforth let peace and love our breasts entwine.
Unequal meed for this my herds I know,
Yet freely take what freely I bestow.
But, artful son of Maia, truly say
Was this born with thee in thy natal day?
Or did some god, or man of godlike force,
Open of sacred song this dulcet source?
For sounds now vibrate on my raptur'd ear
Nor God nor man before were wont to hear?
None equals thee of all the powers above,
O skiful son of Maia and of Jove!
To thee the Muses' choicest gifts belong,
And love and joy and slumber wait thy song.
Thy potent lyre can soothe to peace the breast,
And hush each stormy passion into rest.
Even I, companion of the Muse divine,
The song, the dance, the choral cadence mine,
E'en I so sweet a strain could ne'er compose
As from thy native voice spontaneous flows. —
So early wise, O hear me now declare
Thyself, thy mother, my peculiar care.
Favouring I'll lead thee, with benignant heart,
Through heaven's high race, and splendid gifts impart."
In specious language Hermes thus replies —
" Thy art I view not with invidious eyes,
For well the art thou know'st. — O let me find
Still grace and favour from thy copious mind.
First of the thunderer's sons who rule above,
Reading alone the high decrees of Jove,
'Tis thine each wish'd attainment to acquire;
Then, if thou wish to strike the sounding lyre,
Friendly accept the gift; so while the wire
Yields notes of sweeter descant struck by thee,
New fame, new glory, shall devolve on me.
On the skill'd bard, who with celestial powers
Swells strains melodious mid the banquet's hours,
Shall honour wait, while with unskilful mind
Who pours the lay, disgrace and shame shall find. —
Then take this gift, O glorious son of Jove!
While I amid the hills and meadows rove:
Tend of thy teeming herds the rich increase,
Thus let, O king divine, thine anger cease."
He said, and gave the lyre — with smiling look
The grateful present pleas'd Apollo took:
And, in return, with friendly hand bestow'd
To guide the vagrant herds a splendid goad.
Apollo then first tries the warbling strings,
And in symphonious strain melodious sings;
Struck by his hand, and with his voice combin'd,
Pleasures, till then unknown, entranc'd the mind.
The herds to pasture driven; the sons of Jove
Toward high Olympus' snow-clad summit move;
The sounding lyre the weary lay beguiles,
And on the friendly league the thunderer smiles.
While, added to the shell, another meed
Cyllenius kindly gives — the warbling reed. —
When Phaebus thus: — " So well your wiles I know,
Perhaps, in jest, the gifts you now bestow,
You may purloin, or take my silver bow!
For our dread sire has given you power to change
Whate'er you list, through all creation's range.
Then the tremendous waves of Styx adjure,
So shall I rest from future loss secure."
The sacred pledge Mercurius gave again,
His stores no more to touch, or haunt his fane;
While, first of mortal or immortal race,
With friendship Phaebus Hermes vows to grace:
And adds — " This proof of faith sincere receive
Which, as a mark of friendship firm, I give.
This golden rod, which circling leaves entwine,
Of wealth and happiness the source divine:
This cause of every good in earth or heaven
To me by sovereign Jove's command was given;
For nor to thee nor any power is known
Fate's future doom, save mighty Jove alone.
And I alone of all the powers above
Can read, with certain eye, the will of Jove.
Then, brother, though you grasp this golden rod,
Ask not from me the counsels of the god. —
In curious search of fate, all human kind
Shall much of good and much of evil find.
With me alone the sacred powers remain,
Truth only issues from my holy fane,
But man, weak man, of fancied science vain,
In flight of birds seeks heaven's mysterious will,
His wavering mind while hopes fallacious fill.
But listen, Jove, and Maia's glorious heir!
A further wonder while my words declare —
The Destinies, three virgin-sisters, fly
On rapid pinion through the ambient sky,
In fair Parnassus' vales they dwell — their heads
Of sacred wheat the white farina spreads.
Teachers of prophecy, from whom I tried
In youth to learn the art my sire denied.
Quaffing the rich metheglin's juice, they taught
Some truths divine, with mighty wonder fraught;
But, failing this nectareous draught, away
From truth's fair paths they led mankind astray.
These now to thee I give; thence shalt thou find
Means sometimes to delight thy vacant mind,
And on inquiring man by chance bestow
The power his future destiny to know.
O'er these extend your sway; and o'er the train
Of flocks and herds that graze the flowery plain,
The generous steed, the patient mule's mix'd brood,
And all the ravenous race that prowl the wood.
Thou, too, the herald to the shades below,
Who, poor themselves, can treasures rich bestow."
Apollo thus his brother fondly lov'd,
While mighty Jove his friendly zeal approv'd.
Of gods and men, those who his arts believ'd,
Some he assisted, but he more deceiv'd.
O Jove and Maia's son, farewell! again,
Soon will I hail thee in a newer strain.