Apollo hearing this, passed quickly on--
No winged omen could have shown more clear
That the deceiver was his father's son.
No winged omen could have shown more clear
That the deceiver was his father's son.
Shelley
30.
'And, if Latona's son should find me out, _230
I'll countermine him by a deeper plan;
I'll pierce the Pythian temple-walls, though stout,
And sack the fane of everything I can--
Caldrons and tripods of great worth no doubt,
Each golden cup and polished brazen pan, _235
All the wrought tapestries and garments gay. '--
So they together talked;--meanwhile the Day
31.
Aethereal born arose out of the flood
Of flowing Ocean, bearing light to men.
Apollo passed toward the sacred wood, _240
Which from the inmost depths of its green glen
Echoes the voice of Neptune,--and there stood
On the same spot in green Onchestus then
That same old animal, the vine-dresser,
Who was employed hedging his vineyard there. _245
32.
Latona's glorious Son began:--'I pray
Tell, ancient hedger of Onchestus green,
Whether a drove of kine has passed this way,
All heifers with crooked horns? for they have been
Stolen from the herd in high Pieria, _250
Where a black bull was fed apart, between
Two woody mountains in a neighbouring glen,
And four fierce dogs watched there, unanimous as men.
33.
'And what is strange, the author of this theft
Has stolen the fatted heifers every one, _255
But the four dogs and the black bull are left:--
Stolen they were last night at set of sun,
Of their soft beds and their sweet food bereft. --
Now tell me, man born ere the world begun,
Have you seen any one pass with the cows? '-- _260
To whom the man of overhanging brows:
34.
'My friend, it would require no common skill
Justly to speak of everything I see:
On various purposes of good or ill
Many pass by my vineyard,--and to me _265
'Tis difficult to know the invisible
Thoughts, which in all those many minds may be:--
Thus much alone I certainly can say,
I tilled these vines till the decline of day,
35.
'And then I thought I saw, but dare not speak _270
With certainty of such a wondrous thing,
A child, who could not have been born a week,
Those fair-horned cattle closely following,
And in his hand he held a polished stick:
And, as on purpose, he walked wavering _275
From one side to the other of the road,
And with his face opposed the steps he trod. '
36.
Apollo hearing this, passed quickly on--
No winged omen could have shown more clear
That the deceiver was his father's son. _280
So the God wraps a purple atmosphere
Around his shoulders, and like fire is gone
To famous Pylos, seeking his kine there,
And found their track and his, yet hardly cold,
And cried--'What wonder do mine eyes behold! _285
37.
'Here are the footsteps of the horned herd
Turned back towards their fields of asphodel;--
But THESE are not the tracks of beast or bird,
Gray wolf, or bear, or lion of the dell,
Or maned Centaur--sand was never stirred _290
By man or woman thus! Inexplicable!
Who with unwearied feet could e'er impress
The sand with such enormous vestiges?
38.
'That was most strange--but this is stranger still! '
Thus having said, Phoebus impetuously _295
Sought high Cyllene's forest-cinctured hill,
And the deep cavern where dark shadows lie,
And where the ambrosial nymph with happy will
Bore the Saturnian's love-child, Mercury--
And a delightful odour from the dew _300
Of the hill pastures, at his coming, flew.
39.
And Phoebus stooped under the craggy roof
Arched over the dark cavern:--Maia's child
Perceived that he came angry, far aloof,
About the cows of which he had been beguiled; _305
And over him the fine and fragrant woof
Of his ambrosial swaddling-clothes he piled--
As among fire-brands lies a burning spark
Covered, beneath the ashes cold and dark.
40.
There, like an infant who had sucked his fill _310
And now was newly washed and put to bed,
Awake, but courting sleep with weary will,
And gathered in a lump, hands, feet, and head,
He lay, and his beloved tortoise still
He grasped and held under his shoulder-blade. _315
Phoebus the lovely mountain-goddess knew,
Not less her subtle, swindling baby, who
41.
Lay swathed in his sly wiles. Round every crook
Of the ample cavern, for his kine, Apollo
Looked sharp; and when he saw them not, he took _320
The glittering key, and opened three great hollow
Recesses in the rock--where many a nook
Was filled with the sweet food immortals swallow,
And mighty heaps of silver and of gold
Were piled within--a wonder to behold!