I will remember and express the praise
Of heaven’s Far-darter, the fair King of days,
Whom even the Gods themselves fear when he goes
Through Jove’s high house; and when his goodly bows
He goes to bend, all from their thrones arise,
And cluster near, t’ admire his faculties.
Only Latona stirs not from her seat
Close by the Thund’rer, till her Son’s retreat
From his dread archery; but then she goes,
Slackens his string, and shuts his quiver close,
And (having taken to her hand his bow,
From off his able shoulders) doth bestow
Upon a pin of gold the glorious tiller,
The pin of gold fix’d in his father’s pillar.
Then doth She to his throne his state uphold,
Where his great Father, in a cup of gold,
Serves him with nectar, and shows all the grace
Of his great son. Then th’ other Gods take place;
His gracious mother glorying to bear
So great an archer, and a son so clear.
All hail, O blest Latona! to bring forth
An issue of such all-out-shining worth,
Royal Apollo, and the Queen that loves
The hurls of darts. She in th’ Ortygian groves,
And he in cliffy Delos, leaning on
The lofty Oros, and being built upon
By Cynthus’ prominent, that his head rears
Close to the palm that Inops’ fluent cheers.
How shall I praise thee, far being worthiest praise,
O Phœbus? To whose worth the law of lays
In all kinds is ascrib’d, if feeding flocks
By continent or isle. All eminent’st rocks
Did sing for joy, hill-tops, and floods in song
Did break their billows, as they flow’d along
To serve the sea; the shores, the seas, and all
Did sing as soon as from the lap did fall
Of blest Latona thee the joy of man.
Her child-bed made the mountain Cynthian
In rocky Delos, the sea-circled isle,
On whose all sides the black seas brake their pile,
And overflow’d for joy, so frank a gale
The singing winds did on their waves exhale.
Here born, all mortals live in thy commands,
Whoever Crete holds, Athens, or the strands
Of th’ isle Ægina, or the famous land
For ships (Eubœa), or Eresia,
Or Peparethus bord’ring on the sea,
Ægas, or Athos that doth Thrace divide
And Macedon; or Pelion, with the pride
Of his high forehead; or the Samian isle,
That likewise lies near Thrace; or Scyrus’ soil;
Ida’s steep tops; or all that Phocis fill;
Or Autocanes, with the heaven-high hill;
Or populous Imber; Lemnos without ports;
Or Lesbos, fit for the divine resorts;
And sacred soil of blest Æolion;
Or Chios that exceeds comparison
For fruitfulness; with all the isles that lie
Embrac’d with seas; Mimas, with rocks so high;
Or lofty-crown’d Corycius; or the bright
Charos; or Æsagæus’ dazzling height;
Or watery Samos; Mycale, that bears
Her brows even with the circles of the spheres;
Miletus; Cous, that the city is
Of voice-divided-choice humanities;
High Cnidus; Carpathus, still strook with wind;
Naxos, and Paros; and the rocky-min’d
Rugged Rhenæa. Yet through all these parts
Latona, great-grown with the King of darts,
Travell’d; and tried if any would become
To her dear birth an hospitable home.
All which extremely trembled, shook with fear,
Nor durst endure so high a birth to bear
In their free states, though, for it, they became
Never so fruitful; till the reverend Dame
Ascended Delos, and her soil did seize
With these wing’d words: “O Delos! Wouldst thou please
To be my son Apollo’s native seat,
And build a wealthy fane to one so great,
No one shall blame or question thy kind deed.
Nor think I, thou dost sheep or oxen feed
In any such store, or in vines exceed,
Nor bring’st forth such innumerable plants,
Which often make the rich inhabitants
Careless of Deity. If thou then shouldst rear
A fane to Phœbus, all men would confer
Whole hecatombs of beeves for sacrifice,
Still thronging hither; and to thee would rise
Ever unmeasur’d odours, shouldst thou long
Nourish thy King thus; and from foreign wrong
The Gods would guard thee; which thine own address
Can never compass for thy barrenness.”
She said, and Delos joy’d, replying thus:
“Most happy sister of Saturnius!
I gladly would with all means entertain
The King your son, being now despised of men,
But should be honour’d with the greatest then.
Yet this I fear, nor will conceal from thee:
Your son, some say, will author misery
In many kinds, as being to sustain
A mighty empire over Gods and men,
Upon the holy-gift-giver the Earth.
And bitterly I fear that, when his birth
Gives him the sight of my so barren soil,
He will contemn, and give me up to spoil,
Enforce the sea to me, that ever will
Oppress my heart with many a wat’ry hill.
And therefore let him choose some other land,
Where he shall please, to build at his command
Temple and grove, set thick with many a tree.
For wretched polypuses breed in me
Retiring chambers, and black sea-calves den
In my poor soil, for penury of men.
And yet, O Goddess, wouldst thou please to swear
The Gods’ great oath to me, before thou bear
Thy blessed son here, that thou wilt erect
A fane to him, to render the effect
Of men’s demands to them before they fall,
Then will thy son’s renown be general,
Men will his name in such variety call,
And I shall then be glad his birth to bear.”
This said, the Gods’ great oath she thus did swear:
“Know this, O Earth! broad heaven’s inferior sphere,
And of black Styx the most infernal lake,
(Which is the gravest oath the Gods can take)
That here shall ever rise to Phœbus’ name
An odorous fane and altar; and thy fame
Honour, past all isles else, shall see him employ’d.”
Her oath thus took and ended, Delos joy’d
in mighty measure that she should become
To far-shot Phœbus’ birth the famous home.
Latona then nine days and nights did fall
In hopeless labour; at whose birth were all
Heaven’s most supreme and worthy Goddesses,
Dione, Rhæa, and th’ Exploratress
Themis, and Amphitrite that will be
Pursu’d with sighs still; every Deity,
Except the snowy-wristed wife of Jove,
Who held her moods aloft, and would not move;
Only Lucina (to whose virtue vows
Each childbirth patient) heard not of her throes,
But sat, by Juno’s counsel, on the brows
Of broad Olympus, wrapp’d in clouds of gold.
Whom Jove’s proud wife in envy did withhold,
Because bright-lock’d Latona was to bear
A son so faultless and in force so clear.
The rest Thaumantia sent before, to bring
Lucina to release the envied king,
Assuring her, that they would straight confer
A carcanet, nine cubits long, on her,
All woven with wires of gold. But charg’d her, then,
To call apart from th’ ivory-wristed Queen
The childbirth-guiding Goddess, for just fear
Lest, her charge utter’d in Saturnia’s ear,
She, after, might dissuade her from descent.
When wind-swift-footed Iris knew th’ intent
Of th’ other Goddesses, away she went,
And instantly she pass’d the infinite space
’Twixt earth and heaven; when, coming to the place
Where dwelt th’ Immortals, straight without the gate
She gat Lucina, and did all relate
The Goddesses commanded, and inclin’d
To all that they demanded her dear mind.
And on their way they went, like those two doves
That, walking highways, every shadow moves
Up from the earth, forc’d with their natural fear.
When ent’ring Delos, She, that is so dear
To dames in labour, made Latona straight
Prone to delivery, and to wield the weight
Of her dear burthen with a world of ease.
When, with her fair hand, she a palm did seize,
And, staying her by it, stuck her tender knees
Amidst the soft mead, that did smile beneath
Her sacred labour; and the child did breathe
The air in th’ instant. All the Goddesses
Brake in kind tears and shrieks for her quick ease,
And thee, O archer Phœbus, with waves clear
Wash’d sweetly over, swaddled with sincere
And spotless swathbands; and made then to flow
About thy breast a mantle, white as snow,
Fine, and new made; and cast a veil of gold
Over thy forehead. Nor yet forth did hold
Thy mother for thy food her golden breast,
But Themis, in supply of it, address’d
Lovely Ambrosia, and drunk off to thee
A bowl of nectar, interchangeably
With her immortal fingers serving thine.
And when, O Phœbus, that eternal wine
Thy taste had relish’d, and that food divine,
No golden swathband longer could contain
Thy panting bosom; all that would constrain
Thy soon-eas’d Godhead, every feeble chain
Of earthy child-rites, flew in sunder all.
And then didst thou thus to the Deities call:
“Let there be given me my lov’d lute and bow,
I’ll prophesy to men, and make them know
Jove’s perfect counsels.” This said, up did fly
From broad-way’d Earth the unshorn Deity,
Far-shot Apollo. All th’ Immortals stood
In steep amaze to see Latona’s brood.
All Delos, looking on him, all with gold
Was loaden straight, and joy’d to be extoll’d
By great Latona so, that she decreed
Her barrenness should bear the fruitful’st seed
Of all the isles and continents of earth,
And lov’d her from her heart so for her birth.
For so she flourish’d, as a hill that stood
Crown’d with the flow’r of an abundant wood.
And thou, O Phœbus, bearing in thy hand
Thy silver bow, walk’st over every land,
Sometimes ascend’st the rough-hewn rocky hill
Of desolate Cynthus, and sometimes tak’st will
To visit islands, and the plumps of men.
And many a temple, all ways, men ordain
To thy bright Godhead; groves, made dark with trees,
And never shorn, to hide the Deities,
All high-lov’d prospects, all the steepest brows
Of far-seen hills, and every flood that flows
Forth to the sea, are dedicate to thee.
But most of all thy mind’s alacrity
Is rais’d with Delos; since, to fill thy fane,
There flocks so many an Ionian,
With ample gowns that flow down to their feet,
With all their children, and the reverend sweet
Of all their pious wives. And these are they
That (mindful of thee) even thy Deity
Render more spritely with their champion fight,
Dances, and songs, perform’d to glorious sight,
Once having publish’d, and proclaim’d their strife.
And these are acted with such exquisite life
That one would say, “Now, the Ionian strains
Are turn’d Immortals, nor know what age means.”
His mind would take such pleasure from his eye,
To see them serv’d by all mortality,
Their men so human, women so well grac’d,
Their ships so swift, their riches so increas’d,
Since thy observance, who, being all before
Thy opposites, were all despis’d and poor.
And to all these this absolute wonder add,
Whose praise shall render all posterities glad:
The Delian virgins are thy handmaids all,
And, since they serv’d Apollo, jointly fall
Before Latona, and Diana too,
In sacred service, and do therefore know
How to make mention of the ancient trims
Of men and women, in their well-made hymns,
And soften barbarous nations with their songs,
Being able all to speak the several tongues
Of foreign nations, and to imitate
Their musics there, with art so fortunate
That one would say, there everyone did speak,
And all their tunes in natural accents break,
Their songs so well compos’d are, and their art
To answer all sounds is of such desert.
But come, Latona, and thou King of flames,
With Phœbe, rect’ress of chaste thoughts in dames
Let me salute ye, and your graces call
Hereafter to my just memorial.
And you, O Delian virgins, do me grace,
When any stranger of our earthy race,
Whose restless life affliction hath in chace,
Shall hither come and question you, who is,
To your chaste ears, of choicest faculties
In sacred poesy, and with most right
Is author of your absolut’st delight,
Ye shall yourselves do all the right ye can
To answer for our name:—“The sightless man
Of stony Chios. All whose poems shall
In all last ages stand for capital.”
This for your own sakes I desire, for I
Will propagate mine own precedency
As far as earth shall well-built cities bear,
Or human conversation is held dear,
Not with my praise direct, but praises due,
And men shall credit it, because ’tis true.
However, I’ll not cease the praise I vow
To far-shot Phœbus with the silver bow,
Whom lovely-hair’d Latona gave the light.
O King! both Lycia is in rule thy right,
Fair Mœony, and the maritimal
Miletus, wish’d to be the seat of all.
But chiefly Delos, girt with billows round,
Thy most respected empire doth resound.
Where thou to Pythus went’st, to answer there,
As soon as thou wert born, the burning ear
Of many a far-come, to hear future deeds,
Clad in divine and odoriferous weeds,
And with thy golden fescue play’dst upon
Thy hollow harp, that sounds to heaven set gone.
Then to Olympus swift as thought he flew,
To Jove’s high house, and had a retinue
Of Gods t’ attend him; and then straight did fall
To study of the harp, and harpsical,
All th’ Immortals. To whom every Muse
With ravishing voices did their answers use,
Singing th’ eternal deeds of Deity,
And from their hands what hells of misery
Poor humans suffer, living desperate quite,
And not an art they have, wit, or deceit,
Can make them manage any act aright,
Nor find, with all the soul they can engage,
A salve for death, or remedy for age.
But here the fair-hair’d Graces, the wise Hours,
Harmonia, Hebe, and sweet Venus’ pow’rs,
Danc’d, and each other’s palm to palm did cling.
And with these danc’d not a deformed thing,
No forespoke dwarf, nor downward witherling,
But all with wond’rous goodly forms were deckt,
And mov’d with beauties of unpriz’d aspect.
Dart-dear Diana, even with Phœbus bred,
Danc’d likewise there; and Mars a march did tread
With that brave bevy. In whose consort fell
Argicides, th’ ingenious sentinel.
Phœbus-Apollo touch’d his lute to them
Sweetly and softly, a most glorious beam
Casting about him, as he danc’d and play’d,
And even his feet were all with rays array’d;
His weed and all of a most curious trim
With no less lustre grac’d and circled him.
By these Latona, with a hair that shin’d
Like burnish’d gold, and, with the mighty mind;
Heaven’s counsellor, Jove, sat with delightsome eyes;
To see their son new rank’d with Deities.
How shall I praise thee, then, that art all praise?
Amongst the brides shall I thy Deity raise?
Or being in love, when sad thou went’st to woo
The virgin Aza, and didst overthrow
The even-with-Gods, Elation’s mighty seed,
That had of goodly horse so brave a breed,
And Phorbas, son of sovereign Triopus,
Valiant Leucippus, and Ereutheus,
And Triopus himself with equal fall,
Thou but on foot, and they on horseback all?
Or shall I sing thee, as thou first didst grace
Earth with thy foot, to find thee forth a place
Fit to pronounce thy oracles to men?
First from Olympus thou alightedst then
Into Pieria, passing all the land
Of fruitless Lesbos, chok’d with drifts of sand,
The Magnets likewise, and the Perrhæbes;
And to Iolcus variedst thy access,
Cenæus’ tops ascending, that their base
Make bright Eubœa, being of ships the grace,
And fix’d thy fair stand in Lelantus’ field,
That did not yet thy mind’s contentment yield
To raise a fane on, and a sacred grove.
Passing Euripus then, thou mad’st remove
Up to earth’s ever-green and holiest hill.
Yet swiftly thence, too, thou transcendedst still
To Mycalessus, and didst touch upon
Teumessus, apt to make green couches on,
And flowery field-beds. Then thy progress found
Thebes out, whose soil with only woods was crown’d,
For yet was sacred Thebes no human seat,
And therefore were no paths nor highways beat
On her free bosom, that flows now with wheat,
But then she only wore on it a wood.
From hence (even loth to part, because it stood
Fit for thy service) thou putt’st on remove
To green Onchestus, Neptune’s glorious grove,
Where new-tam’d horse, bred, nourish nerves so rare
That still they frolic, though they travell’d are
Never so sore, and hurry after them
Most heavy coaches, but are so extreme
(In usual travel) fiery and free,
That though their coachman ne’er so masterly
Governs their courages, he sometimes must
Forsake his seat, and give their spirits their lust,
When after them their empty coach they draw,
Foaming, and neighing, quite exempt from awe.
And if their coachman guide through any grove
Unshorn, and vow’d to any Deity’s love,
The lords encoach’d leap out, and all their care
Use to allay their fires, with speaking fair
Stroking and trimming them, and in some queach,
Or strength of shade, within their nearest reach,
Reining them up, invoke the deified King
Of that unshorn and everlasting spring,
And leave them then to her preserving hands,
Who is the Fate that there the God commands.
And this was first the sacred fashion there.
From hence thou went’st, O thou in shafts past peer,
And found’st Cephissus with thy all-seeing beams,
Whose flood affects so many silver streams,
And from Lilæus pours so bright a wave.
Yet forth thy foot flew, and thy fair eyes gave
The view of Ocale the rich in tow’rs;
Then to Amartus that abounds in flow’rs,
Then to Delphusa putt’st thy progress on,
Whose blessed soil nought harmful breeds upon;
And there thy pleasure would a fane adorn,
And nourish woods whose shades should ne’er be shorn.
Where this thou told’st her, standing to her close:
“Delphusa, here I entertain suppose
To build a far-fam’d temple, and ordain
An oracle t’ inform the minds of men,
Who shall for ever offer to my love
Whole hecatombs; even all the men that move
In rich Peloponnesus, and all those
Of Europe, and the isles the seas enclose,
Whom future search of acts and beings brings.
To whom I’ll prophesy the truths of things
In that rich temple where my oracle sings.”
This said, the All-bounds-reacher, with his bow,
The fane’s divine foundations did foreshow;
Ample they were, and did huge length impart,
With a continuate tenour, full of art.
But when Delphusa look’d into his end,
Her heart grew angry, and did thus extend
Itself to Phœbus: “Phœbus, since thy mind
A far-fam’d fane hath in itself design’d
To bear an oracle to men in me,
That hecatombs may put in fire to thee,
This let me tell thee, and impose for stay
Upon thy purpose: Th’ inarticulate neigh
Of fire-hov’d horse will ever disobey
Thy numerous ear, and mules will for their drink
Trouble my sacred springs, and I should think
That any of the human race had rather
See here the hurries of rich coaches gather,
And hear the haughty neighs of swift-hov’d horse,
Than in his pleasure’s place convert recourse
T’a mighty temple; and his wealth bestow
On pieties, where his sports may freely flow,
Or see huge wealth that he shall never owe.
And, therefore, wouldst thou hear my free advice,—
Though mightier far thou art, and much more wise,
O king, than I, thy pow’r being great’st of all
In Crissa, underneath the bosom’s fall
Of steep Parnassus,—let thy mind be given
To set thee up a fane, where never driven
Shall glorious coaches be, nor horses’ neighs
Storm near thy well-built altars, but thy praise
Let the fair race of pious humans bring
Into thy fane, that Io-pæans sing.
And those gifts only let thy deified mind
Be circularly pleas’d with, being the kind
And fair burnt-offerings that true Deities bind.”
With this his mind she altered, though she spake
Not for his good, but her own glory’s sake.
From hence, O Phœbus, first thou mad’st retreat,
And of the Phlegians reached the walled seat,
Inhabited with contumelious men,
Who, slighting Jove, took up their dwellings then
Within a large cave, near Cephissus’ lake.
Hence, swiftly moving, thou all speed didst make
Up to the tops intended, and the ground
Of Crissa, under the-with-snow-still-crown’d
Parnassus, reach’d, whose face affects the West;
Above which hangs a rock, that still seems prest
To fall upon it, through whose breast doth run
A rocky cave, near which the King the Sun
Cast to contrive a temple to his mind,
And said, “Now here stands my conceit inclin’d
To build a famous fane, where still shall be
An oracle to men, that still to me
Shall offer absolute hecatombs, as well
Those that in rich Peloponnesus dwell
As those of Europe, and the isles that lie
Wall’d with the sea, that all their pains apply
T’ employ my counsels. To all which will I
True secrets tell, by way of prophecy,
In my rich temple, that shall ever be
An oracle to all posterity.”
This said, the fane’s form he did straight present,
Ample, and of a length of great extent;
In which Trophonius and Agamede,
Who of Erginus were the famous seed,
Impos’d the stony entry, and the heart
Of every God had for their excellent art.
About the temple dwelt of human name
Unnumber’d nations, it acquired such fame,
Being all of stone, built for eternal date.
And near it did a fountain propagate
A fair stream far away; when Jove’s bright seed,
The King Apollo, with an arrow, freed
From his strong string, destroy’d the Dragoness
That wonder nourish’d, being of such excess
In size, and horridness of monstrous shape,
That on the forc’d earth she wrought many a rape,
Many a spoil made on it, many an ill
On crook-haunch’d herds brought, being impurpled still
With blood of all sorts; having undergone
The charge of Juno, with the golden throne,
To nourish Typhon, the abhorr’d affright
And bane of mortals, whom into the light
Saturnia brought forth, being incensed with Jove,
Because the most renown’d fruit of his love
(Pallas) he got, and shook out of his brain.
For which majestic Juno did complain
In this kind to the Bless’d Court of the skies:
“Know all ye sex-distinguish’d Deities,
That Jove, assembler of the cloudy throng,
Begins with me first, and affects with wrong
My right in him, made by himself his wife,
That knows and does the honour’d marriage life
All honest offices; and yet hath he
Unduly got, without my company,
Blue-eyed Minerva, who of all the sky
Of blest Immortals is the absolute grace;
Where I have brought into the Heavenly Race
A son, both taken in his feet and head,
So ugly, and so far from worth my bed,
That, ravish’d into hand, I took and threw
Down to the vast sea his detested view;
Where Nereus’ daughter, Thetis, who her way
With silver feet makes, and the fair array
Of her bright sisters, saved, and took to guard.
But, would to heaven, another yet were spared
The like grace of his godhead! Crafty mate,
What other scape canst thou excogitate?
How could thy heart sustain to get alone
The grey-eyed Goddess? Her conception
Nor bringing forth had any hand of mine,
And yet, know all the Gods, I go for thine
To such kind uses. But I’ll now employ
My brain to procreate a masculine joy,
That ’mongst th’ Immortals may as eminent shine,
With shame affecting nor my bed nor thine.
Nor will I ever touch at thine again,
But far fly it and thee; and yet will reign
Amongst th’ Immortals ever.” This spleen spent
(Still yet left angry) far away she went
From all the Deathless, and yet pray’d to all,
Advanced her hand, and, ere she let it fall,
Used these excitements: “Hear me now, O Earth!
Broad Heaven above it, and beneath, your birth,
The deified Titanois, that dwell about
Vast Tartarus, from whence sprung all the rout
Of Men and Deities! Hear me all, I say,
With all your forces, and give instant way
T’ a son of mine without Jove, who yet may
Nothing inferior prove in force to him,
But past him spring as far in able limb
As he past Saturn.” This pronounced, she strook
Life-bearing Earth so strongly, that she shook
Beneath her numb’d hand. Which when she beheld,
Her bosom with abundant comforts swell’d,
In hope all should to her desire extend.
From hence the year, that all such proofs gives end,
Grew round; yet all that time the bed of Jove
She never touch’d at, never was her love
Enflam’d to sit near his Dædalian throne,
As she accustomed, to consult upon
Counsels kept dark with many a secret skill,
But kept her vow-frequented temple still,
Pleas’d with her sacrifice; till now, the nights
And days accomplish’d, and the year’s whole rights
In all her revolutions being expired,
The hours and all run out that were required
To vent a birth-right, she brought forth a son,
Like Gods or men in no condition,
But a most dreadful and pernicious thing,
Call’d Typhon, who on all the human spring
Conferr’d confusion. Which received to hand
By Juno, instantly she gave command
(Ill to ill adding) that the Dragoness
Should bring it up; who took, and did oppress
With many a misery (to maintain th’ excess
Of that inhuman monster) all the race
Of men that were of all the world the grace,
Till the far-working Phœbus at her sent
A fiery arrow, that invoked event
Of death gave to her execrable life.
Before which yet she lay in bitter strife,
With dying pains, grovelling on earth, and drew
Extreme short respirations; for which flew
A shout about the air, whence no man knew,
But came by power divine. And then she lay
Tumbling her trunk, and winding every way
About her nasty nest, quite leaving then
Her murderous life, embrued with deaths of men.
Then Phœbus gloried, saying: “Thyself now lie
On men-sustaining earth, and putrefy,
Who first of putrefaction was inform’d.
Now on thy life have death’s cold vapours storm’d,
That storm’dst on men the earth-fed so much death,
In envy of the offspring they made breathe
Their lives out on my altars. Now from thee
Not Typhon shall enforce the misery
Of merited death, nor She, whose name implies
Such scathe (Chimæra), but black earth make prise
To putrefaction thy immanities,
And bright Hyperion, that light all eyes shows,
Thine with a night of rottenness shall close.”
Thus spake he glorying. And then seiz’d upon
Her horrid heap, with putrefaction,
Hyperion’s lovely pow’rs; from whence her name
Took sound of Python, and heaven’s Sovereign Flame
Was surnam’d Pythius, since the sharp-eyed Sun
Affected so with putrefaction
The hellish monster. And now Phœbus’ mind
Gave him to know that falsehood had strook blind
Even his bright eye, because it could not find
The subtle Fountain’s fraud; to whom he flew,
Enflamed with anger, and in th’ instant drew
Close to Delphusa, using this short vow:
“Delphusa! You must look no longer now
To vent your frauds on me; for well I know
Your situation to be lovely, worth
A temple’s imposition, it pours forth
So delicate a stream. But your renown
Shall now no longer shine here, but mine own.”
This said, he thrust her promontory down,
And damm’d her fountain up with mighty stones,
A temple giving consecrations
In woods adjoining. And in this fane all
On him, by surname of Delphusius, call,
Because Delphusa’s sacred flood and fame
His wrath affected so, and hid in shame.
And then thought Phœbus what descent of men
To be his ministers he should retain,
To do in stony Pythos sacrifice.
To which his mind contending, his quick eyes
He cast upon the blue sea, and beheld
A ship, on whose masts sails that wing’d it swell’d,
In which were men transferr’d, many and good,
That in Minoian Cnossus ate their food,
And were Cretensians; who now are those
That all the sacrificing dues dispose,
And all the laws deliver to a word
Of Day’s great King, that wears the golden sword,
And oracles (out of his Delphian tree
That shrouds her fair arms in the cavity
Beneath Parnassus’ mount) pronounce to men.
These now his priests, that lived as merchants then,
In traffics and pecuniary rates,
For sandy Pylos and the Pylian states.
Were under sail. But now encounter’d them
Phœbus-Apollo, who into the stream
Cast himself headlong, and the strange disguise
Took of a dolphin of a goodly size.
Like which he leap’d into their ship, and lay
As an ostent of infinite dismay.
For none with any strife of mind could look
Into the omen, all the ship-masts shook,
And silent all sat with the fear they took,
Arm’d not, nor strook they sail, but as before
Went on with full trim, and a foreright blore,
Stiff, and from forth the south, the ship made fly.
When first they stripp’d the Malean promont’ry,
Touch’d at Laconia’s soil, in which a town
Their ship arriv’d at, that the sea doth crown,
Called Tenarus, a place of much delight
To men that serve Heaven’s Comforter of sight.
In which are fed the famous flocks that bear
The wealthy fleeces, on a delicate lair
Being fed and seated. Where the merchants fain
Would have put in, that they might out again
To tell the miracle that chanced to them,
And try if it would take the sacred stream,
Rushing far forth, that he again might bear
Those other fishes that abounded there
Delightsome company, or still would stay
Aboard their dry ship. But it fail’d t’ obey,
And for the rich Peloponnesian shore
Steer’d her free sail; Apollo made the blore
Directly guide it. That obeying still
Reach’d dry Arena, and (what wish doth fill)
Fair Argyphæa, and the populous height
Of Thryus, whose stream, siding her, doth wait
With safe pass on Alphæus, Pylos’ sands,
And Pylian dwellers; keeping by the strands
On which th’ inhabitants of Crunius dwell,
And Helida set opposite to hell;
Chalcis and Dymes reach’d, and happily
Made sail by Pheras; all being overjoy’d
With that frank gale that Jove himself employ’d.
And then amongst the clouds they might descry
The hill, that far-seen Ithaca calls her Eye,
Dulichius, Samos, and, with timber graced,
Shady Zacynthus. But when now they past
Peloponnesus all, and then when show’d
The infinite vale of Crissa, that doth shroud
All rich Morea with her liberal breast,
So frank a gale there flew out of the West
As all the sky discover’d; ’twas so great,
And blew so from the very council seat
Of Jove himself, that quickly it might send
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 and 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.