Part 45

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.