Attend, I pray, to this advice of mine,

As you would 'scape what might appall a bolderSeeing, see not-and hearing, hear not―and— If you have understanding-understand."

XVI.

So saying, Hermes roused the oxen vast;
O'er shadowy mountain and resounding dell,
And flower-paven plains, great Hermes past;
Till the black night divine, which favouring fell
Around his steps, grew gray, and morning fast
Wakened the world to work, and from her cell,
Sea-strewn, the Pallantean Moon sublime
Into her watch-tower just began to climb.

XVII.

Now to Alpheus he had driven all

The broad-foreheaded oxen of the Sun; They came unwearied to the lofty stall

And to the water troughs which ever run

Through the fresh fields-and when with rush

grass tall,

Lotus and all sweet herbage, every one

Had pastured been, the great god made them

move

Towards the stall in a collected drove.

XVIII.

A mighty pile of wood the god then heaped,
And having soon conceived the mystery

Of fire, from two smooth laurel branches stript The bark, and rubbed them in his palms,-on

high

Suddenly forth the burning vapour leapt,

And the divine child saw delightedly : Mercury first found out for human weal Tinder-box, matches, fire-irons, flint, and steel.

XIX.

And fine dry logs and roots innumerous
He gathered in a delve upon the ground,
And kindled them-and instantaneous

The strength of the fierce flame was breathed around.

And whilst the might of glorious Vulcan thus Wrapt the great pile with glare and roaring sound,

Hermes dragged forth two heifers, lowing loud, Close to the fire-such might was in the god.

XX.

And on the earth upon their backs he threw
The panting beasts, and rolled them o'er and o'er,
And bored their lives out. Without more ado
He cut up fat and flesh, and down before
The fire on spits of wood he placed the two,

Toasting their flesh and ribs, and all the gore Pursed in the bowels; and while this was done He stretched their hides over a craggy stone.

XXI.

We mortals let an ox grow old, and then
Cut it up after long consideration,—
But joyous-minded Hermes from the glen

Drew the fat spoils to the more open station Of a flat smooth space, and portioned them; and when

He had by lot assigned to each a ration Of the twelve gods, his mind became aware Of all the joys which in religion are.

XXII.

For the sweet savour of the roasted meat

Tempted him, though immortal. Natheless He checked his haughty will and did not eat, Though what it cost him words can scarce express, And every wish to put such morsels sweet

Down his most sacred throat, he did repress ; But soon within the lofty-portalled stall He placed the fat and flesh and bones and all.

XXIII.

And every trace of the fresh butchery

And cooking, the god soon made disappear, As if it all had vanished through the sky; [hair,He burned the hoofs and horns and head and The insatiate fire devoured them hungrily;

And when he saw that every thing was clear, He quenched the coals and trampled the black dust And in the stream his bloody sandals tossed.

XXIV.

All night he worked in the serene moonshine; But when the light of day was spread abroad He sought his natal mountain-peaks divine.

On his long wandering, neither man nor god Had met him, since he killed Apollo's kine,

Nor house-dog had barked at him on his road; Now he obliquely through the key-hole passed, Like a thin mist, or an autumnal blast.

XXV.

Right through the temple of the spacious cave
He went with soft light feet—as if his tread
Fell not on earth; no sound their falling gave;
Then to his cradle he crept quick, and spread
The swaddling-clothes about him; and the knave
Lay playing with the covering of the bed,
With his left hand about his knees-the right
Held his beloved tortoise-lyre tight.

XXVI.

There he lay innocent as a new-born child,
As gossips say; but, though he was a god,
The goddess, his fair mother, unbeguiled
Knew all that he had done, being abroad;
"Whence come you, and from what adventure

wild,

abode

You cunning rogue, and where have you All the long night, clothed in your impudence? What have you done since you departed hence?

XXVII.

"Apollo soon will pass within this gate, And bind your tender body in a chain Inextricably tight, and fast as fate,

Unless you can delude the god again, Even when within his arms-ah, runagate! A pretty torment both for gods and men Your father made when he made you

mother,"

"Dear

Replied sly Hermes," wherefore scold and bother?

XXVIII.

"As if I were like other babes as old
And understood nothing of what is what;
And cared at all to hear my mother scold.
I in my subtle brain a scheme have got,
Which, whilst the sacred stars round Heaven are
rolled,

Will profit you and me—nor shall our lot
Be as you counsel, without gifts or food,
To spend our lives in this obscure abode.

XXIX.

"But we will leave this shadow-peopled cave, And live among the gods, and pass each day In high communion, sharing what they have

Of profuse wealth and unexhausted prey; And, from the portion which my father gave

To Phoebus, I will snatch my share away, Which if my father will not-natheless I, Who am the king of robbers, can but try.