The Complete Poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Cyllenian Hermes from the grassy place,

  400

  Like one in earnest haste to get away,

  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

  LII

  ‘With me, you unkind God?’—said Mercury:

  405

  ‘Is it about these cows you tease me so?

  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,

  410

  I should have ever heard the name of one—

  But I appeal to the Saturnian’s throne.’

  LIII

  Thus Phoebus and the vagrant Mercury

  Talked without coming to an explanation,

  With adverse purpose. As for Phoebus, he

  415

  Sought not revenge, but only information,

  And Hermes tried with lies and roguery

  To cheat Apollo.—But when no evasion

  Served—for the cunning one his match had found—

  He paced on first over the sandy ground.

  LIV

  · · · · · · ·

  420

  He of the Silver Bow the child of Jove

  Followed behind, till to their heavenly Sire

  Came both his children, beautiful as Love,

  And from his equal balance did require

  A judgement in the cause wherein they strove.

  425

  O’er odorous Olympus and its snows

  A murmuring tumult as they came arose,—

  LV

  And from the folded depths of the great Hill,

  While Hermes and Apollo reverent stood

  Before Jove’s throne, the indestructible

  430

  Immortals rushed in mighty multitude;

  And whilst their seats in order due they fill,

  The lofty Thunderer in a careless mood

  To Phoebus said:—‘Whence drive you this sweet prey,

  This herald-baby, born but yesterday?—

  LVI

  435

  ‘A most important subject, trifler, this

  To lay before the Gods!’—‘Nay, Father, nay,

  When you have understood the business,

  Say not that I alone am fond of prey.

  I found this little boy in a recess

  440

  Under Cyllene’s mountains far away—

  A manifest and most apparent thief,

  A scandalmonger beyond all belief.

  LVII

  ‘I never saw his like either in Heaven

  Or upon earth for knavery or craft:—

  445

  Out of the field my cattle yester-even,

  By the low shore on which the loud sea laughed,

  He right down to the river-ford had driven;

  And mere astonishment would make you daft

  To see the double kind of footsteps strange

  450

  He has impressed wherever he did range.

  LVIII

  ‘The cattle’s track on the black dust, full well

  Is evident, as if they went towards

  The place from which they came—that asphodel

  Meadow, in which I feed my many herds,—

  455

  His steps were most incomprehensible—

  I know not how I can describe in words

  Those tracks—he could have gone along the sands

  Neither upon his feet nor on his hands;—

  LIX

  ‘He must have had some other stranger mode

  460

  Of moving on: those vestiges immense,

  Far as I traced them on the sandy road,

  Seemed like the trail of oak-toppings:—but thence

  No mark nor track denoting where they trod

  The hard ground gave:—but, working at his fence,

  465

  A mortal hedger saw him as he passed

  To Pylos, with the cows, in fiery haste.

  LX

  ‘I found that in the dark he quietly

  Had sacrified some cows, and before light

  Had thrown the ashes all dispersedly

  470

  About the road—then, still as gloomy night,

  Had crept into his cradle, either eye

  Rubbing, and cogitating some new sleight,

  No eagle could have seen him as he lay

  Hid in his cavern from the peering day.

  LXI

  475

  ‘I taxed him with the fact, when he averred

  Most solemnly that he did neither see

  Nor even had in any manner heard

  Of my lost cows, whatever things cows be;

  Nor could he tell, though offered a reward,

  480

  Not even who could tell of them to me.’

  So speaking, Phoebus sate; and Hermes then

  Addressed the Supreme Lord of Gods and Men:—

  LXII

  ‘Great Father, you know clearly beforehand

  That all which I shall say to you is sooth;

  485

  I am a most veracious person, and

  Totally unacquainted with untruth.

  At sunrise Phoebus came, but with no band

  Of Gods to bear him witness, in great wrath,

  To my abode, seeking his heifers there,

  490

  And saying that I must show him where they are,

  LXIII

  ‘Or he would hurl me down the dark abyss.

  I know that every Apollonian limb

  Is clothed with speed and might and manliness,

  As a green bank with flowers—but unlike him

  495

  I was born yesterday, and you may guess

  He well knew this when he indulged the whim

  Of bullying a poor little new-born thing

  That slept, and never thought of cow-driving.

  LXIV

  ‘Am I like a strong fellow who steals kine?

  500

  Believe me, dearest Father—such you are—

  This driving of the herds is none of mine;

  Across my threshold did I wander ne’er,

  So may I thrive! I reverence the divine

  Sun and the Gods, and I love you, and care

  505

  Even for this hard accuser—who must know

  I am as innocent as they or you.

  LXV

  ‘I swear by these most gloriously-wrought portals

  (It is, you will allow, an oath of might)

  Through which the multitude of the Immortals

  510

  Pass and repass forever, day and night,

  Devising schemes for the affairs of mortals—

  That I am guiltless; and I will requite,

  Although mine enemy be great and strong,

  His cruel threat—do thou defend the young!’

  LXVI

  515

  So speaking, the Cyllenian Argiphont

  Winked, as if now his adversary was fitted:—

  And Jupiter, according to his wont,

  Laughed heartily to hear the subtle-witted

  Infant give such a plausible account,

  520

  And every word a lie. But he remitted

  Judgement at present—and his exhortation

  Was, to compose the affair by arbitration.

  LXVII

  And they by mighty Jupiter were bidden

  To go forth with a single purpose both,

  525

  Neither the other chiding nor yet chidden:

  And Mercury with innocence and truth

  To lead the way, and show where he had hidden

  The mighty heifers.—Hermes, nothing loth,

 
Obeyed the Aegis-bearer’s will—for he

  530

  Is able to persuade all easily.

  LXVIII

  These lovely children of Heaven’s highest Lord

  Hastened to Pylos and the pastures wide

  And lofty stalls by the Alphean ford,

  Where wealth in the mute night is multiplied

  535

  With silent growth. Whilst Hermes drove the herd

  Out of the stony cavern, Phoebus spied

  The hides of those the little babe had slain,

  Stretched on the precipice above the plain.

  LXIX

  ‘How was it possible,’ then Phoebus said,

  540

  ‘That you, a little child, born yesterday,

  A thing on mother’s milk and kisses fed,

  Could two prodigious heifers ever flay?

  Even I myself may well hereafter dread

  Your prowess, offspring of Cyllenian May,

  545

  When you grow strong and tall.’—He spoke, and bound

  Stiff withy bands the infant’s wrists around,

  LXX

  He might as well have bound the oxen wild;

  The withy bands, though starkly interknit,

  Fell at the feet of the immortal child,

  550

  Loosened by some device of his quick wit.

  Phoebus perceived himself again beguiled,

  And stared—while Hermes sought some hole or pit,

  Looking askance and winking fast as thought,

  Where he might hide himself and not be caught.

  LXXI

  555

  Sudden he changed his plan, and with strange skill

  Subdued the strong Latonian, by the might

  Of winning music, to his mightier will;

  His left hand held the lyre, and in his right

  The plectrum struck the chords—unconquerable

  560

  Up from beneath his hand in circling flight

  The gathering music rose—and sweet as Love

  The penetrating notes did live and move

  LXXII

  Within the heart of great Apollo—he

  Listened with all his soul, and laughed for pleasure.

  565

  Close to his side stood harping fearlessly

  The unabashèd boy; and to the measure

  Of the sweet lyre, there followed loud and free

  His joyous voice; for he unlocked the treasure

  Of his deep song, illustrating the birth

  570

  Of the bright Gods, and the dark desert Earth:

  LXXIII

  And how to the Immortals every one

  A portion was assigned of all that is;

  But chief Mnemosyne did Maia’s son

  Clothe in the light of his loud melodies;—

  575

  And, as each God was born or had begun,

  He in their order due and fit degrees

  Sung of his birth and being—and did move

  Apollo to unutterable love.

  LXXIV

  These words were wingèd with his swift delight:

  580

  ‘You heifer-stealing schemer, well do you

  Deserve that fifty oxen should requite

  Such minstrelsies as I have heard even now.

  Comrade of feasts, little contriving wight,

  One of your secrets I would gladly know,

  585

  Whether the glorious power you now show forth

  Was folded up within you at your birth,

  LXXV

  ‘Or whether mortal taught or God inspired

  The power of unpremeditated song?

  Many divinest sounds have I admired,

  590

  The Olympian Gods and mortal men among;

  But such a strain of wondrous, strange, untired,

  And soul-awakening music, sweet and strong,

  Yet did I never hear except from thee,

  Offspring of May, impostor Mercury!

  LXXVI

  595

  ‘What Muse, what skill, what unimagined use,

  What exercise of subtlest art, has given

  Thy songs such power?—for those who hear may choose

  From three, the choicest of the gifts of Heaven,

  Delight, and love, and sleep,—sweet sleep, whose dews

  600

  Are sweeter than the balmy tears of even:—

  And I, who speak this praise, am that Apollo

  Whom the Olympian Muses ever follow:

  LXXVII

  ‘And their delight is dance, and the blithe noise

  Of song and overflowing poesy;

  605

  And sweet, even as desire, the liquid voice

  Of pipes, that fills the clear air thrillingly;

  But never did my inmost soul rejoice

  In this dear work of youthful revelry

  As now. I wonder at thee, son of Jove;

  610

  Thy harpings and thy song are soft as love.

  LXXVIII

  ‘Now since thou hast, although so very small,

  Science of arts so glorious, thus I swear,—

  And let this cornel javelin, keen and tall,

  Witness between us what I promise here,—

  615

  That I will lead thee to the Olympian Hall,

  Honoured and mighty, with thy mother dear.

  And many glorious gifts in joy will give thee,

  And even at the end will ne’er deceive thee.’

  LXXIX

  To whom thus Mercury with prudent speech:—

  620

  ‘Wisely hast thou inquirèd of my skill:

  I envy thee no thing I know to teach

  Even this day:—for both in word and will

  I would be gentle with thee; thou canst reach

  All things in thy wise spirit, and thy sill

  625

  Is highest in Heaven among the sons of Jove,

  Who loves thee in the fulness of his love.

  LXXX

  ‘The Counsellor Supreme has given to thee

  Divinest gifts, out of the amplitude

  Of his profuse exhaustless treasury;

  630

  By thee, ’tis said, the depths are understood

  Of his far voice; by thee the mystery

  Of all oracular fates,—and the dread mood

  Of the diviner is breathed up; even I—

  A child—perceive thy might and majesty.

  LXXXI

  635

  ‘Thou canst seek out and compass all that wit

  Can find or teach;—yet since thou wilt, come take

  The lyre—be mine the glory giving it—

  Strike the sweet chords, and sing aloud, and wake

  Thy joyous pleasure out of many a fit

  640

  Of trancèd sound—and with fleet fingers make

  Thy liquid-voicèd comrade talk with thee,—

  It can talk measured music eloquently.

  LXXXII

  ‘Then bear it boldly to the revel loud,

  Love-wakening dance, or feast of solemn state,

  645

  A joy by night or day—for those endowed

  With art and wisdom who interrogate

  It teaches, babbling in delightful mood

  All things which make the spirit most elate,

  Soothing the mind with sweet familiar play,

  650

  Chasing the heavy shadows of dismay.

  LXXXIII

  ‘To those who are unskilled in its sweet tongue,

  Though they should question most impetuously

  Its hidden soul, it gossips something wrong—

  Some senseless and impertinent reply.

  655

  But thou who art as wise as thou art strong

  Canst compass all that thou desirest. I

  Present thee with this music-flowin
g shell,

  Knowing thou canst interrogate it well.

  LXXXIV

  ‘And let us two henceforth together feed,

  660

  On this green mountain-slope and pastoral plain,

  The herds in litigation—they will breed

  Quickly enough to recompense our pain,

  If to the bulls and cows we take good heed;—

  And thou, though somewhat over fond of gain,

  665

  Grudge me not half the profit.’—Having spoke,

  The shell he proffered, and Apollo took;

  LXXXV

  And gave him in return the glittering lash,

  Installing him as herdsman;—from the look

  Of Mercury then laughed a joyous flash.

  670

  And then Apollo with the plectrum strook

  The chords, and from beneath his hands a crash

  Of mighty sounds rushed up, whose music shook

  The soul with sweetness, and like an adept

  His sweeter voice a just accordance kept.

  LXXXVI

  675

  The herd went wandering o’er the divine mead,

  Whilst these most beautiful Sons of Jupiter

  Won their swift way up to the snowy head

  Of white Olympus, with the joyous lyre

  Soothing their journey; and their father dread

  680

  Gathered them both into familiar

  Affection sweet,—and then, and now, and ever,

  Hermes must love Him of the Golden Quiver,

  LXXXVII

  To whom he gave the lyre that sweetly sounded,

  Which skilfully he held and played thereon.

  685

  He piped the while, and far and wide rebounded

  The echo of his pipings; every one

  Of the Olympians sat with joy astounded;