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LXXXVII.

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;

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LXXXVIII.

I fear thee and thy sly camelion spirit,

Lest thou shouldst steal my lyre and crooked bow;

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.

66 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 Phoebus swore There was no God or man whom he loved more.

XC.

"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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XCI.

'For, dearest child, the divinations high Which thou requirest, 'tis unlawful ever That thou, or any other deity,

Should understand-and vain were the

endeavour;

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
То any God-the oath was terrible.

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XCII.

'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.

XCIII.

"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 missed

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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XCIV.

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.

My father cared not. Whilst they search out dooms,

They sit apart and feed on honeycombs.

XCV.

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

XCVI.

"Take these and the fierce oxen, Maia's child— O'er many a horse and toil-enduring mule, O'er jagged-jawèd lions, and the wild

White-tuskèd 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."

XCVII.

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

Hermes with Gods and men even from that day
Mingled, and wrought the latter much annoy,
And little profit, wandering far astray

Through the dun night. Farewell, delightful
Boy,

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

HOMER'S HYMN TO CASTOR AND
POLLUX.

YE wild-eyed Muses, sing the Twins of Jove,
Whom the fair-ancled Leda mixed in love
With mighty Saturn's heaven-obscuring Child,
On Taygetus, that lofty mountain wild,

Brought forth in joy, mild Pollux void of blame,
And steed-subduing Castor, heirs of fame.
These are the Powers who earth-born mortals

save,

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And ships, whose flight is swift along the wave.
When wintry tempests o'er the savage sea
Are raging, and the sailors tremblingly
Call on the Twins of Jove with prayer and vow,
Gathered in fear upon the lofty prow,
And sacrifice with snow-white lambs, the wind
And the huge billow bursting close behind,
Even then beneath the weltering waters bear
The staggering ship-they suddenly appear,
On yellow wings rushing athwart the sky,
And lull the blasts in mute tranquillity,
And strew the waves on the white ocean's bed,
Fair omen of the voyage; from toil and dread,
The sailors rest, rejoicing in the sight,
And plough the quiet sea in safe delight.

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HOMER'S HYMN TO THE MOON.

DAUGHTERS of Jove, whose voice is melody,
Muses, who know and rule all minstrelsy!
Sing the wide-wingèd Moon. Around the earth,
From her immortal head in Heaven shot forth,
Far light is scattered-boundless glory springs,
Where'er she spreads her many-beaming wings
The lampless air glows round her golden crown.

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But when the Moon divine from Heaven is gone
Under the sea, her beams within abide,
Till, bathing her bright limbs in Ocean's tide,
Clothing her form in garments glittering far,
And having yoked to her immortal car
The beam-invested steeds, whose necks on high
Curve back, she drives to a remoter sky
A western Crescent, borne impetuously.
Then is made full the circle of her light,
And as she grows, her beams more bright and
bright

Are poured from Heaven, where she is hovering

then,

A wonder and a sign to mortal men.

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The Son of Saturn with this glorious Power
Mingled in love and sleep-to whom she bore,
Pandeia, a bright maid of beauty rare
Among the Gods, whose lives eternal are.

Hail Queen, great Moon, white-armed
Divinity,

Fair-haired and favourable, thus with thee,
My song beginning, by its music sweet
Shall make immortal many a glorious feat
Of demigods, with lovely lips, so well

Which minstrels, servants of the muses, tell.

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