IV – To Hermes

The son of Zeus and Maia, Hermes, sing,

O Muse, lord of Arcadia, burgeoning

With flocks, and of Cyllene, who brings glee,

The herald of the gods and progeny

Of Zeus and rich-tressed Maia, a shy

Goddess who passed her fellow-deities by

And dwelt in a dark cave, and it was there

One night she lay with Zeus – and unaware

Of what they did were all the gods and men –

While white-armed Hera sweetly slept, and when

Great Zeus’s deed was done and up on high

The tenth moon was established in the sky,

She was delivered and a deed was done

Of great import: she bore a cunning son,

Gifted, a thief, a cattle-driver too,

A watcher at the gates by night, one who

Brings dreams and will among the gods display

Great deeds. Though born at dawn, yet at midday

He played the lyre and when nightfall had come,

He stole Apollo’s cattle (the month’s sum

Of days was four); once from the womb he’d leapt,

Within his holy cradle nothing kept

Him long. He left his high cave in one bound

And in his search an endless joy he found

In a tortoise, which he first made fit for song.

He came upon it waddling along

Before the courtyard portals as it fed

On the rich grass. He laughed out loud and said:

“A wondrous sign of luck so soon for me!

I will not slight it. Hail, in ecstasy

I greet you, lovely beater of the ground,

Companion at the feast. Where have you found

This spangled shell, this plaything – you who dwell

Up in the mountains? Since you’ll serve me well,

I’ll take you home and bring you no disgrace.

First you must help me, though. A better place

Is home – outdoors is harmful. You shall be

A spell against malicious sorcery.

You’ll sing most sweetly, though, when you are dead.”

He gathered up the tortoise as he said

These words and took his fine toy home with him.

With a grey iron ladle every limb

Of this peak-living beast he lopped away.

As swift thought comes to those around whom play

Uneasy, thronging cares, as from the gaze

Of someone’s eyes resplendent glances blaze,

Famed Hermes made his plans for word and deed

Immediately. He measured stalks of reed

Which he had cut and then he fixed each one

Across its back and through its shell. This done.

He stretched an ox-hide very skillfully

Across it, put the horns on, too, then he

Fit bridges on the horns in, too, and then

Stretched seven strings made out of sheep-gut. When

He had done that, he tested every string

With the plectrum as he held the lovely thing.

It sounded wondrously beneath his hand

While he sang sweetly, as a youthful band

Swaps taunts at festivals. He sang an air

Of Zeus and well-shod Maia, how that pair

Chatted while they made love, and he related

The tale of his famed birth and celebrated

The nymph’s handmaids and her bright home and all

The tripods and the cauldrons at her hall.

Meanwhile, with other matters he was faced.

He took the hollow lyre which he placed

Inside his holy cradle. Now he yearned

For meat and with sheer trickery he burned

As he sprang from the fragrant hall and went

To a lookout – on such deeds are rascals bent

In dead of night. The sun beneath the land

Was setting in the west with horses and

Their chariot. Hermes now came at a run

To the Pierian peaks that lack the sun,

Where the gods’ deathless cattle have their stead

And on unmown and pleasant grass are fed.

And then the son of Maia, he who slew

Argos,^[1] took fifty beasts that loudly moo

From the herd and drove them all a-straggling

Across a sandy spot while swiveling

Their hoof-prints round. It was a clever scheme

To turn them in that way that they might seem

Not what they were, while he walked normally.

With wickerwork he fastened by the sea

Wonderful sandals, quite remarkable,

Before unheard-of, unimaginable,

With myrrh-twigs and with tamarisks mixed. Fresh wood

He fastened and attached them – well and good- ,

The leaves and all, beneath his feet. Behold,

A pair of lightweight sandals. As I told

You, this was in Pieria when he

Prepared to leave upon his odyssey

In his unique way. An old greybeard^[2], though,

Tilling his flowering vineyard, saw him go

Speeding towards the plain as he went through

Grassy Onchestus^[3]. “Well, old fellow, who

Are digging with bowed shoulders,“ famed Hermes

Said, “you’ll have plenteous wine when all of these

Vines bear fruit. So remember not to see

What you in fact have seen, and similarly

Be deaf to what you’ve heard and do not say

A word – you’ll not be harmed in any way.”

At this, he sped his sturdy cattle on.

Through many shadowy mountains had they gone,

Echoing gorges, flowering plains, with night,

His holy friend, near over, and daylight,

That urges folk to labour, almost nigh,

When Pallas’ child Selene up on high

Climbed to the look-out, shining radiantly,

Then to the Alpheius Zeus’ strong progeny

Drove [Apollo’s] wide-faced cattle and, still spry,

They reached the byres where the roofs loomed very high

And troughs before the splendid field, and when

He’d fed the loudly-lowing cattle, then

He drove them close-packed to the byre while they

On moist sedge and on lotus chewed away.

He heaped a pile of wood and started out

To seek the art of fire. He took a stout

Bay-branch and trimmed it with a knife which he

Clutched tightly in his hand, and torridly

The smoke rose up. For fire he formulated

And fire-sticks. Next he accumulated

Many dried sticks and laid them thick and tight

In a sunken trench and with a fiery light

A flame began to glow and when the force

Of famed Hephaestus took its blazing course

He dragged two horned and lowing cows along

Close to the fire – for he too was strong –

And threw them panting on their backs and, when

He’d rolled them to their sides, their life force then

He pierced. Then, slice by slice, the meat he slit,

The rich and fatted meat, then on a spit

Of wood the flesh he roasted and the dark

Blood of the innards and the chine, the mark

Of honour^[4]; on a rugged rock each hide

He spread and even now through time and tide

They still are there and evermore shall be.

Then Hermes took the rich meat joyfully

And placed it on a stone both smooth and flat

And split it into twelve by lot. At that,

Each slice would bring much honour to each one

Who tasted it. Now Zeus’s famous son

Longed for the holy meat. Its sweet smell made

Him dreary, though a god, but he was stayed

By his proud heart, but he put it all by,

The fat and flesh, in the byre, whose roof was high

And quietly placed it high so all might see

His youthful theft. Dry sticks accordingly

He gathered and then threw into the flame

The heads and hooves. When to the end he came

Of all these deeds, his sandals then he cast

In the deep river Alpheius and passed

The night in quenching embers and with sand

He spread the black ash, while upon the land

Selene brightly shone. At break of day

To Cyllene’s bright crests he went straightaway.

And there was neither god nor man – not one –

Met him as on he trekked, and no dogs – none –

Let out a bark. Then luck-bringing Hermes,

The son of Zeus, just like a misty breeze

In fall, passed through the keyhole of the hall

Straight to the rich shrine and no noise at all

He made then went to his cradle hurriedly

And donned his baby-clothes so he might be

Just like a babe himself and then he played

With the sheet about his knees; yet he had laid

At his left hand his sweet lyre. And yet he

Was noticed by his goddess mother. She

Said: “Oh you rogue, whence have you come at night,

Wrapped in your shamelessness? With cords drawn tight

Round you shall [Apollo] – such is my belief –

Eject you or you’ll live life as a thief

Out in the glens. Go! You were spawned to be

A bane to men and gods.” Then craftily

He answered: “Why attempt to make me start,

Mother? I’m not a helpless babe whose heart

Knows little wrong and fears his mother may

Rebuke him. I’ll continue [to figure out]

What plan is best and feed continually

The two of us. I’m not prepared to be

A resident here, as you advise, and bear

The shame of not receiving gifts or prayer.

Better to live among the gods always,

Wealthy in everything, than spend my days

In gloomy caves, and as for honour, why,

If Zeus will not allow me them, I’ll be

The prince of thieves – I’ve the ability.

If I’m sought out by Leto’s glorious son,

I think that he’ll regret what he has done.

Into Pytho’s great house I plan to break

And from it I will splendid tripods take

And gold and cauldrons, in great number, too,

And much bright iron and apparel. All this you

May see.” That’s what they said, each to the other,

Hermes the son of Zeus and his royal mother,

Maia. When early Dawn brought light to men

From the deep-flowing Oceanus, then

Phoebus Apollo came to Onchestus,

The holy, sweet grove of Gaieochus,

The roaring Lord of Earth and there he found

An old man who along the trodden ground

From the courtyard fence his beast was pasturing.

The glorious [Apollo] said the following:

“Old man, who weed the grassy land, I came

Out of Pieria with just one aim –

Cattle, all cows, with curving horns – I own

Them all. The pitch-black bull grazed all alone.

Four fierce-eyed hounds, though, shadowed them like men,

All of one mind. The dogs and bull were then

All left behind – surprisingly. And yet

The cows left the sweet pasture at sunset.

Tell me, have you seen someone passing by

Behind these cows?” The old man answered: “Why,

My friend, it’s hard to tell all one can see.

So many pass through this locality,

Some bent on bad, some good. It’s hard to know

Each one. While digging in my vineyard, though,

Till sunset, I believe, sir, that I spied

Some child or other walking side to side

Behind some long-haired beasts and carrying

A stick – though I’m not sure – and piloting

Them backwards, facing them.” That’s what he said,

And at his words Apollo faster sped

Upon his way. He noticed presently

A long-winged bird and knew the progeny

Of Zeus had stolen them. So then with speed

He went to splendid Pylos in his need

To find the shambling beasts, while all around

His massive shoulders a dark cloud was bound.

Apollo marked his footsteps, saying: “Oh,

This is a wondrous marvel; for, although

The straight-horned oxen made these tracks, they lead –

Or seem to do – back to the flowery mead.

No man nor woman, no grey wolf nor bear

Nor lion made the tracks that I see there,

Nor shaggy Centaur either, I suppose,

Whoever made such monstrous tracks as those

So swiftly. For on this side of the way

They are amazing – even more are they

Upon the other.” When this he had said,

He to well-forested Cyllene sped

And the deep, rocky cave, beset with shade,

Where Zeus was born unto the holy maid.

The lovely hill smelled sweetly and a flock

Of sleek sheep grazed and he that dusky rock

Instantly entered. Hermes, when he knew

Apollo’s anger, snuggled down into

His fragrant swaddling-clothes. As ash will screen

Tree-stumps’ deep embers, Hermes, once he’d seen

Apollo, huddled, heads, hands, feet squeezed tight

(Just as a new-born seeking sweet sleep might),

Though wide awake. His lyre he kept below

His armpit. [Apollo] recognized him, though,

And Maia, too, the lovely mountain-maid,

Although he was so craftily arrayed

And but a babe. Through that great cavity

He peered in every nook; with a bright key

He opened up three closets well-supplied

With nectar and ambrosia beside

Much gold and silver, Maia’s garments, too,

Some purple and some silver, such as you

Might see among the blessed gods. then he

Said: “Infant, lying in your cot, lest we

Fall out, tell me about my beasts. I’ll fling

You into dusky Hell,^[5] that harrowing

And hopeless dark. Your parents shall not flee

You as you roam and hold supremacy

But over little folk.” Then said Hermes

With cunning: ”[Apollo], what harsh words are these?

You want your cows? I’ve not seen them or heard

A single mention of them, not a word.

I cannot help you, cannot claim a prize.

Am I a cattle-lifter in your eyes?

A strong man? No, this isn’t my concern.

I care for other things; for sleep I yearn

And mother’s milk and blankets and to be

Bathed in warm baths. Let our controversy

Not be reported, for this would astound

The gods – that such an infant would be found

Bringing home beasts. Unseemly! I was born

But yesterday, my soft feet would be torn

By rugged ground. Upon my father’s head

I’ll swear a great oath, if you wish it said,

That I am innocent nor did I see

Who took those cows – whatever cows they be,

For I have only heard of them,“ he said.

He quickly glanced about and turned his head

This way and that and raised his brows as well

And whistled long as he heard [Apollo] tell

His tale as though he lied. Then quietly

Apollo laughed and said: “So virtuously

You speak, you cunning rogue, full of deceit.

This night, I think, you’ve plundered many a seat,

Filching in silence. In the glades up high

You’ll badger many a herdsman, coming by

His herds and thick-fleeced sheep in your great thirst

For flesh. Come in now, leave your cot, your cursed

Companion, if you’d not sleep your last sleep.

Among the gods this title shall you keep

Forever – prince of thieves.” He grabbed the lad,

But Hermes had a plan: while [Apollo] had

Him in his hands, he sent up to the sky

A bird, a hard-worked serf that flew on high,

A wretched envoy, and immediately

He sneezed. Apollo threw him down when he

Heard this and, eager though he was to go,

Sat down and mockingly addressed him: “Oh,

Fear not, you swaddled one, I’ll find my herd,

My brawny cows, by reason of this bird.

And you shall lead the way.” Immediately

Hermes sprang up and off. The sheet that he

Had placed around his shoulders he now drew

Up to his ears and said: “Hey, where are you

Carrying me? The angriest of all

The gods are you. Is it these cows that gall

You so that you harass me thus? Death to

All cattle! Look, I did not filch from you

Your cows – whatever they may be – or see

The culprit. I but heard their history.

Be just and swear to Zeus.” They argued thus

In detail, nor was Phoebus [bossy] –

He’d lost his cattle! But duplicity

Was Hermes’ aim, but when he found that he

Was matched in this, across the sand he sped

With [Apollo] in his wake, himself ahead.

They came to sweet Olympus quickly, where

The scales of justice waited for this pair.

After the hour of Dawn on her gold seat

The gods on snowy Olympus came to meet

In counsel. Then they stood at Zeus’s knees:

To [Apollo] the High-Thunderer’s words were these:

“Whence have you brought this mighty spoil, this tot

So like a messenger? This is a lot

For us to think about?” In his reply

Apollo said: ”Father, the time is nigh

For you to hear this weighty tale, although

You chide me for my love of spoil. But lo!

Here is a child whom, after journeying long,

I found, a downright plunderer, among

Cyllene’s hills. Such pert audacity

Among both gods and men I’ve failed to see

Though many men deceive. He pirated

My cattle from their meadow, then he led

Them west to the shore of the loud-roaring sea

And straight to Pylos. Like a prodigy

Of some smart sprite, these traces were twofold.

The cattle’s tracks, the black dust clearly told,

Led to the flowery lea. But that strange thing

That led them seemed to have been travelling,

Outside the path upon the sandy ground,

On neither hands nor feet. He must have found

Some other means – in slender oaks maybe.

The dust showed all these tracks perceptibly.

After the sandy trek, though, not a trace

Could be detected on the ground’s hard face.

But as he drove the wide-browed cattle straight

To Pylos, someone saw him. When the gate

He’d quietly closed behind them, craftily

By twists and turns he went back home, then he

Lay in his cradle, still as the dark night,

In his dim cave – no keen-eyed eagle might

Have spotted him. Then much he rubbed his eyes

And bluntly spoke out as he planned his lies:

‘I have not seen or heard of them; no man

Has told me of them, so of them I can

Say nothing nor claim a reward.’” At that,

[Apollo] sat down. Then Hermes pointed at

Lord Zeus and answered: “Here’s the truth for I

Am truthful, Zeus, and cannot tell a lie.

Seeking his shambling cows, he came today

Up to our house just at the break of day.

He brought no god as witness. Violently

He ordered me to make confession. He

Vowed he’d send me to the broad land of Hell,

Because he’s at the height of youth and, well,

I was born yesterday – he knows it, too.

I don’t steal cows, I’m weak. All this is true –

Believe, for you claim to have fathered me.

I did not take them – as I hope to be

Wealthy – nor cross the threshold. I revere

Helios and all the gods. You I hold dear

While dreading him. You know I’m blameless. I

Will swear a great oath that I am. Yes, by

The finely-decked Olympian drapery!

One day I’ll punish him, strong though he be,

For this harsh grilling. Now, though, give your aid

To younger ones.” The Cyllenian spoke and made

Side glances, while his swaddling-clothes he had

Upon his arm. Zeus laughed at this young lad

Who plotted ill, denying cunningly

His guilt. He ordered both of them to be

Of one mind and search out the beasts. Hermes

He told to lead and deal no falsities

And show where he had left the sturdy herd.

Zeus nodded.^[6] Good Hermes obeyed his word,

For Zeus’s will prevailed. And then his two

Fine sons for sandy Pylos made and through

The ford of Alpheius and the fields they came

Up to the high-roofed byre where those same

Beasts were brought up. Then to the rocky cove

Went Hermes and the hardy herd he drove

Into the light. Now [Apollo] glanced aside

And in the precipitous rock cowhides he spied

And said to glorious Hermes: “Crafty one,

How could you flay two cows? How was it done

By one new-born? I dread your future strength;

Your growing’s almost at its utmost length.”

With hardy [plant] cords he tried to bind

His hands. About each other, though, they twined

And grew beneath their feet immediately

And hid the wild beasts through the trickery

Of Hermes. [Apollo] gaped in great surprise.

Then furtively the Argos-Slayer’s eyes

Bent to the ground and flashed like fire as he

Desired to hide himself. Yet easily

He soothed the son of glorious Leto, stern

Though he yet was. He tried each string in turn

When he took up the lyre and he produced

A sound wondrous to hear and it induced

[Apollo] to laugh with joy, and that sweet sound

Of glorious music touched his heart; around

His soul a tender longing grew as he

Sat listening. Now, playing beautifully,

Hermes plucked up his nerve and stood nearby

[Apollo’s] left side and, as he warbled high,

Began to sing, and lovely was the sound.

Of the deathless gods he sang and of the ground,

Their birth and how the portions came to be

Doled out to each one. First Mnemosyne,

The Muses‘ mother, he acclaimed – her due

Was Maia’s son himself. According to

Their ages, all the rest he hymned – how they

Were born – as on his arm his lyre lay.

A boundless longing seized [Apollo], and so

With winged words he said to Hermes: “O

Beast-slayer, busy rogue, friend of the feast,

The song you sing’s worth fifty cows at least.

This problem can be settled, I believe,

Amicably. Therefore, please give me leave,

O clever one, to know if this great thing

Was yours from birth or did you learn to sing

With some god’s teaching? For it’s marvellous,

This new-sung sound, which I think none of us-

No god nor man – but you has ever known,

You thief. What is this talent that you own?

To take away one’s desperate cares? For here

Are three things one may choose from – love and cheer

And restful sleep. I am a satellite

Of the Olympian Muses who delight

In song and dance and in the thrilling cry

And full-toned chant of flutes. However, I

Have never liked those clever feats before

One hears at young men’s sprees. Now I adore

Your sound. I marvel at how well you play.

But sit down, since, though born but yesterday,

You have such skills. Lend a respectful ear

To counsel which from your elders you’ll hear.

Among the gods, you, and your mother too,

Shall have renown. This shall I tell to you

Directly. By this cornel-shaft, you’ll be,

Among the gods, a leader – dignity

And glorious gifts I’ll give you. Nor will I

Deceive you ever.” Hermes, in reply,

Said craftily: “Your questions to me are

Most careful, o you who work from afar.

I am not jealous that you want a part

In my great skill: today I shall impart

This fact to you. I wish to be a friend

To you in thought and deed. Now there’s an end:

You know it all. Foremost you sit among

The deathless gods, and you are good and strong.

Zeus rightly loves you. Splendid presents he’s

Given to you. They say that dignities

And his decrees and oracles you know

Of him. I’ve heard you’re rich. Whateverso

You wish to know, you may. But since to play

The lyre is your wish, then chant away

And pluck its strings. Give way to gaiety.

This is my gift to you. Yet give to me

Renown, my friend. With this ally who’s so

Clear-voiced within your hands, sing well. You know

The art of balanced utterance. Now bring

It boldly to rich feasts, to revelling.

To lovely dances – such festivity

Both night and day. If someone knowingly

Should ask about it, by its very sound

It teaches wondrous things that play around

The mind. With its humanity and ease

And feeling, toilsome drudgery it flees.

But if some fool should query violently,

It chatters nothing but mere vanity.

You can discover what you please, though. So

Here is my lyre. For my part, I’ll go

And on both plain and hill my beasts I’ll feed.

Then, coupling with my bulls, the cows will breed

Heifers and bulls galore. Though you’ve a bent

For greed, you’ve no need to be violent

And angry.” He held out the instrument.

Apollo took it and, unhesitant,

Proffered to him his whip that shone so bright

And made him keeper of the herds. Delight

Caught Hermes as he took it while Apollo

Took up the lyre and placed it in the hollow

Of his left arm and tested every string

With the plectrum one by one. And did it sing

As he so sweetly trilled! Subsequently

They took the herd back to the sacred lea,

Then sped to snowy Olympus once again,

Delighting in the lyre. Wise Zeus then

Was glad and joined those two in amity.

And since that time Hermes continually

Loved [Apollo], having given the instrument

To him as token. More than competent

Was he in playing it. But he now found

Another cunning art – the pipes, whose sound

Is heard afar. [Apollo] said to him: “Guide

So full of cunning, I am terrified

That you will steal the lyre and the curved bow,

For Zeus has authorized that you shall go

And travel through the fruitful earth to trade

With men. But if a mighty oath you made

Among the gods by nodding of your head

Or by the potent waters which the dead

Traverse, you’ll please me well and comfort me.

Then Hermes bowed his head in surety^[7]

That he’d not steal whatever he possessed

Or near his mighty house. [Apollo] professed

His friendship with the lad and vowed he’d love

Not one of those immortals high above

The earth nor any Zeus-born mortals more.

Zeus sent an eagle then, and [Apollo] swore:

“To all the gods above I shall impart

You as a token that within my heart

You’re prized and trusted. I’ll give you to hold

A splendid staff of riches made of gold,

Three-branched, which will preserve you and fulfil

All words and actions, so they be not ill.

This do I know from Zeus. The prophecy,

However, noble, heaven-born progeny,

Of which you query, never must be known

By any other god but Zeus alone.

As pledge a great and solemn oath I swore

That to no god who lives for evermore

But me shall Zeus his clever plans unfold.

So, brother, you who bear the staff of gold,

Don’t bid me tell them. As for mortals, I’ll

Harm one and aid another, all the while

Sorely perplexing all humanity.

That man who hears the bird of prophecy

And sees its flight and comes to me shall get

My vocal aid and not be misled. Yet

Who trusts in birds that idly chatter and

Wishes, against my will, to understand

More than the gods, his journey’s been in vain.

And yet the gifts he brings I shall retain.

I’ll tell you something more, lad: there are three

Pure, holy winged sisters whom you’ll see

Sprayed with white meal about their heads. They dwell

In their home beneath Parnassus in a dell,

All teachers of the art of prophecy,

Apart from me, an art which occupied me

When, as a boy, I followed herds, although

My father paid no heed. They to and fro

Fly, feeding on honeycomb as they induce

The future. When inspired by the juice

Of honey, they’ll speak truth. But if denied

The gods’ sweet food, they’ll tell lies as they glide

About. I give you them. If you enquire

Strictly of them, you’ll gain your heart’s desire.

If you teach this to someone else, he’ll hear

Your answer often, if he wins good cheer.

Take these and tend your roving, horned herd,

All steeds and patient mules.” That was his word.

And over all the wild beasts that are fed

By the broad earth, he made famed Hermes head –

The grim-eyed lion, the gleaming-tusked boar,

All flocks, all dogs, all sheep and, furthermore,

Made him sole messenger to Hades: though

Hades receives no bounty, even so

He’ll give him no mean prize. The progeny

Of Maia thus received great amity

From Lord Apollo who augmented then

His gifts with grace – with all the gods and men

He traffics. Though he makes some gains, yet he

Cheats men throughout the night continually.

So farewell, son of Maia. You I’ll tell

Of in my song – another song as well.