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Hymn To Mercury. Translated From The Greek Of Homer
by
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
Towards the subtle babe the following scoff:–
‘Do not imagine this will get you off, 395
51.
‘You little swaddled child of Jove and May!
And seized him:–‘By this omen I shall trace
My noble herds, and you shall lead the way.’–
Cyllenian Hermes from the grassy place,
Like one in earnest haste to get away, 400
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
52.
‘With me, you unkind God?’–said Mercury:
‘Is it about these cows you tease me so? 405
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,
I should have ever heard the name of one– 410
But I appeal to the Saturnian’s throne.’