The ship through full seas to her journey’s end.
From thence they sail’d, quite opposite, to the East,
And to the region where Light leaves his rest,
The Light himself being sacred pilot there,
And made the sea-trod ship arrive them near
The grapeful Crissa, where he rest doth take
Close to her port and sands. And then forth brake
The far-shot King, like to a star that strows
His glorious forehead where the mid-day glows,
That all in sparkles did his state attire,
Whose lustre leap’d up to the sphere of fire.
He trod where no way oped, and pierced the place
That of his sacred tripods held the grace,
In which he lighted such a fluent flame
As gilt all Crissa; in which every dame,
And dame’s fair daughter, cast out vehement cries
At those fell fires of Phœbus’ prodigies,
That shaking fears through all their fancies threw.
Then, like the mind’s swift light, again he flew
Back to the ship, shaped like a youth in height
Of all his graces, shoulders broad and straight,
And all his hair in golden curls enwrapp’d;
And to the merchants thus his speech he shap’d:
“Ho! Strangers! What are you? And from what seat
Sail ye these ways that salt and water sweat?
To traffic justly? Or use vagrant scapes
Void of all rule, conferring wrongs and rapes,
Like pirates, on the men ye never saw,
With minds project exempt from list or law?
Why sit ye here so stupefied, nor take
Land while ye may, nor deposition make
Of naval arms, when this the fashion is
Of men industrious, who (their faculties
Wearied at sea) leave ship, and use the land
For food, that with their healths and stomachs stand?”
This said, with bold minds he their breast supplied,
And thus made answer the Cretensian guide:
“Stranger! Because you seem to us no seed
Of any mortal, but celestial breed
For parts and person, joy your steps ensue,
And Gods make good the bliss we think your due.
Vouchsafe us true relation, on what land
We here arrive, and what men here command.
We were for well-known parts bound, and from Crete
(Our vaunted country) to the Pylian seat
Vow’d our whole voyage; yet arrive we here,
Quite cross to those wills that our motions steer,
Wishing to make return some other way,
Some other course desirous to assay,
To pay our lost pains. But some God hath fill’d
Our frustrate sails, defeating what we will’d.”
Apollo answer’d: “Strangers! Though before
Ye dwelt in woody Cnossus, yet no more
Ye must be made your own reciprocals
To your loved city and fair severals
Of wives and houses, but ye shall have here
My wealthy temple, honour’d far and near
Of many a nation; for myself am son
To Jove himself, and of Apollo won
The glorious title, who thus safely through
The sea’s vast billows still have held your plough,
No ill intending, that will yet ye make
My temple here your own, and honours take
Upon yourselves, all that to me are given.
And more, the counsels of the King of Heaven
Yourselves shall know, and with his will receive
Ever the honours that all men shall give.
Do as I say then instantly, strike sail,
Take down your tackling, and your vessel hale
Up into land; your goods bring forth, and all
The instruments that into sailing fall;
Make on this shore an altar, fire enflame,
And barley white cakes offer to my name;
And then, environing the altar, pray,
And call me (as ye saw me in the day
When from the windy seas I brake swift way
Into your ship) Delphinius, since I took
A dolphin’s form then. And to every look
That there shall seek it, that my altar shall
Be made a Delphian memorial
From thence for ever. After this, ascend
Your swift black ship and sup, and then intend
Ingenuous offerings to the equal Gods
That in celestial seats make blest abodes.
When, having stay’d your healthful hunger’s sting,
Come all with me, and Io-pæans sing
All the way’s length, till you attain the state
Where I your opulent fane have consecrate.”
To this they gave him passing diligent ear,
And vow’d to his obedience all they were.
First, striking sail, their tacklings then they losed,
And (with their gables stoop’d) their mast imposed
Into the mast-room. Forth themselves then went,
And from the sea into the continent
Drew up their ship; which far up from the sand
They rais’d with ample rafters. Then in hand
They took the altar; and inform’d it on
The sea’s near shore, imposing thereupon
White cakes of barley, fire made, and did stand
About it round, as Phœbus gave command,
Submitting invocations to his will.
Then sacrific’d to all the heavenly hill
Of pow’rful Godheads. After which they eat
Aboard their ship, till with fit food replete
They rose, nor to their temple used delay.
Whom Phœbus usher’d, and touch’d all the way
His heavenly lute with art above admired,
Gracefully leading them. When all were fired
With zeal to him, and follow’d wond’ring all
To Pythos; and upon his name did call
With Io-pæans, such as Cretans use.
And in their bosoms did the deified Muse
Voices of honey-harmony infuse.
With never-weary feet their way they went,
And made with all alacrity ascent
Up to Parnassus, and that long’d-for place
Where they should live, and be of men the grace.
When, all the way, Apollo show’d them still
Their far-stretch’d valleys, and their two-topp’d hill,
Their famous fane, and all that all could raise
To a supreme height of their joy and praise.
And then the Cretan captain thus inquired
Of King Apollo: “Since you have retired,
O sovereign, our sad lives so far from friends
And native soil (because so far extends
Your dear mind’s pleasure) tell us how we shall
Live in your service? To which question call
Our provident minds, because we see not crown’d
This soil with store of vines, nor doth abound
In wealthy meadows, on which we may live,
As well as on men our attendance give.”
He smiled, and said: “O men that nothing know,
And so are follow’d with a world of woe,
That needs will succour care an
d curious moan,
And pour out sighs without cessation,
Were all the riches of the earth your own!
Without much business, I will render known
To your simplicities an easy way
To wealth enough, Let every man purvey
A skeane, or slaught’ring steel, and his right hand,
Bravely bestowing, evermore see mann’d
With killing sheep, that to my fane will flow
From all far nations. On all which bestow
Good observation, and all else they give
To me make you your own all, and so live.
For all which watch before my temple well,
And all my counsels, above all, conceal.
If any give vain language, or to deeds,
Yea or as far as injury, proceeds,
Know that, at losers’ hands, for those that gain,
It is the law of mortals to sustain.
Besides, ye shall have princes to obey,
Which still ye must, and (so ye gain) ye may.
All now is said; give all thy memory’s stay.”
And thus to thee, Jove and Latona’s son,
Be given all grace of salutation!
Both thee and others of th’ Immortal State
My song shall memorize to endless date.
THE END OF THE HYMN TO APOLLO.
A HYMN TO HERMES
Hermes, the son of Jove and Maia, sing,
O Muse, th’ Arcadian and Cyllenian king,
They rich in flocks, he heaven enriching still
In messages return’d with all his will.
Whom glorious Maia, the nymph rich in hair,
Mixing with Jove in amorous affair,
Brought forth to him, sustaining a retreat
From all th’ Immortals of the blessed seat,
And living in the same dark cave, where Jove
Inform’d at midnight the effect of love,
Unknown to either man or Deity,
Sweet sleep once having seized the jealous eye
Of Juno deck’d with wrists of ivory.
But when great Jove’s high mind was consummate,
The tenth month had in heaven confined the date
Of Maia’s labour, and into the sight
She brought in one birth labours infinite;
For then she bore a son, that all tried ways
Could turn and wind to wish’d events assays,
A fair-tongu’d, but false-hearted, counsellor,
Rector of ox-stealers, and for all stealths bore
A varied finger; speeder of night’s spies,
And guide of all her dreams’ obscurities;
Guard of door-guardians; and was born to be,
Amongst th’ Immortals, that wing’d Deity
That in an instant should do acts would ask
The powers of others an eternal task.
Born in the morn, he form’d his lute at noon,
At night stole all the oxen of the Sun;
And all this in his birth’s first day was done,
Which was the fourth of the increasing moon.
Because celestial limbs sustain’d his strains,
His sacred swath-bands must not be his chains,
So, starting up, to Phœbus’ herd he stept,
Found straight the high-roof’d cave where they were kept,
And th’ entry passing, he th’ invention found
Of making lutes; and did in wealth abound
By that invention, since he first of all
Was author of that engine musical,
By this means moved to the ingenious work:
Near the cave’s inmost overture did lurk
A tortoise, tasting th’ odoriferous grass,
Leisurely moving; and this object was
The motive to Jove’s son (who could convert
To profitable uses all desert
That nature had in any work convey’d)
To form the lute; when, smiling, thus he said:
“Thou mov’st in me a note of excellent use,
Which thy ill form shall never so seduce
T’ avert the good to be inform’d by it,
In pliant force, of my form-forging wit.”
Then the slow tortoise, wrought on by his mind,
He thus saluted: “All joy to the kind
Instinct of nature in thee, born to be
The spiriter of dances, company
For feasts, and following banquets, graced and blest
For bearing light to all the interest
Claim’d in this instrument! From whence shall spring
Play fair and sweet, to which may Graces sing.
A pretty painted coat thou putt’st on here,
O Tortoise, while thy ill-bred vital sphere
Confines thy fashion; but, surprised by me,
I’ll bear thee home, where thou shalt ever be
A profit to me; and yet nothing more
Will I contemn thee in my merited store.
Goods with good parts got worth and honour gave,
Left goods and honours every fool may have,
And since thou first shall give me means to live,
I’ll love thee ever. Virtuous qualities give
To live at home with them enough content,
Where those that want such inward ornament
Fly out for outward, their life made their load.
Tis best to be at home, harm lurks abroad.
And certainly thy virtue shall be known,
‘Gainst great-ill-causing incantation
To serve as for a lance or amulet.
And where, in comfort of thy vital heat,
Thou now breath’st but a sound confus’d for song,
Expos’d by nature, after death, more strong
Thou shalt in sounds of art be, and command
Song infinite sweeter.” Thus with either hand
He took it up, and instantly took flight
Back to his cave with that his home delight.
Where (giving to the mountain tortoise vents
Of life and motion) with fit instruments
Forged of bright steel he straight inform’d a lute,
Put neck and frets to it, of which a suit
He made of splitted quills, in equal space
Impos’d upon the neck, and did embrace
Both back and bosom. At whose height (as gins
T’ extend and ease the string) he put in pins.
Seven strings of several tunes he then applied,
Made of the entrails of a sheep well-dried,
And throughly twisted. Next he did provide
A case for all, made of an ox’s hide,
Out of his counsels to preserve as well
As to create. And all this action fell
Into an instant consequence. His word
And work had individual accord,
All being as swiftly to perfection brought
As any worldly man’s most ravish’d thought,
Whose mind care cuts in an infinity
Of varied parts or passions instantly,
Or as the frequent twinklings of an eye.
And thus his house-delight given absolute end,
He touch’d it, and did every string extend
(With an exploratory spirit assay’d)
To all the parts that could on it be play’d.
It sounded dreadfully; to which he sung,
As if from thence the first and true force spr
ung
That fashions virtue. God in him did sing.
His play was likewise an unspeakable thing,
Yet, but as an extemporal assay,
Of what show it would make being the first way,
It tried his hand; or a tumultuous noise,
Such as at feasts the first-flower’d spirits of boys
Pour out in mutual contumelies still,
As little squaring with his curious will,
Or was as wanton and untaught a store.
Of Jove, and Maia that rich shoes still wore,
He sung; who suffer’d ill reports before,
And foul stains under her fair titles bore.
But Hermes sung her nation, and her name
Did iterate ever; all her high-flown fame
Of being Jove’s mistress; celebrating all
Her train of servants, and collateral
Sumpture of houses; all her tripods there,
And caldrons huge, increasing every year.
All which she knew, yet felt her knowledge stung
With her fame’s loss, which (found) she more wish’d sung.
But now he in his sacred cradle laid
His lute so absolute, and straight convey’d
Himself up to a watch-tow’r forth his house,
Rich, and divinely odoriferous,
A lofty wile at work in his conceit,
Thirsting the practice of his empire’s height.
And where impostors rule (since sable night
Must serve their deeds) he did his deeds their right.
For now the never-resting Sun was turn’d
For th’ under earth, and in the ocean burn’d
His coach and coursers; when th’ ingenious spy
Pieria’s shady hill had in his eye,
Where the immortal oxen of the Gods
In air’s flood solaced their select abodes,
And earth’s sweet green flow’r, that was never shorn,
Fed ever down. And these the witty-born,
Argicides, set serious spy upon,
Severing from all the rest, and setting gone
Full fifty of the violent bellowers.
Which driving through the sands, he did reverse
(His birth’s-craft straight rememb’ring) all their hoves,
And them transpos’d in opposite removes,
The fore behind set, the behind before,
T’ employ the eyes of such as should explore.
And he himself, as sly-pac’d, cast away
His sandals on the sea sands; past display
And unexcogitable thoughts in act
Putting, to shun of his stol’n steps the tract,
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 168
