The Homeric Hymns: 3- To Apollo

III. TO APOLLO (546 lines)

TO DELIAN APOLLO --

(ll. 1-18) I will remember and not be unmindful of Apollo who

shoots afar. As he goes through the house of Zeus, the gods

tremble before him and all spring up from their seats when he

draws near, as he bends his bright bow. But Leto alone stays by

the side of Zeus who delights in thunder; and then she unstrings

his bow, and closes his quiver, and takes his archery from his

strong shoulders in her hands and hangs them on a golden peg

against a pillar of his father's house. Then she leads him to a

seat and makes him sit: and the Father gives him nectar in a

golden cup welcoming his dear son, while the other gods make him

sit down there, and queenly Leto rejoices because she bare a

mighty son and an archer. Rejoice, blessed Leto, for you bare

glorious children, the lord Apollo and Artemis who delights in

arrows; her in Ortygia, and him in rocky Delos, as you rested

against the great mass of the Cynthian hill hard by a palm-tree

by the streams of Inopus.

(ll. 19-29) How, then, shall I sing of you who in all ways are a

worthy theme of song? For everywhere, O Phoebus, the whole range

of song is fallen to you, both over the mainland that rears

heifers and over the isles. All mountain-peaks and high

headlands of lofty hills and rivers flowing out to the deep and

beaches sloping seawards and havens of the sea are your delight.

Shall I sing how at the first Leto bare you to be the joy of men,

as she rested against Mount Cynthus in that rocky isle, in sea-

girt Delos -- while on either hand a dark wave rolled on

landwards driven by shrill winds -- whence arising you rule over

all mortal men?

(ll. 30-50) Among those who are in Crete, and in the township of

Athens, and in the isle of Aegina and Euboea, famous for ships,

in Aegae and Eiresiae and Peparethus near the sea, in Thracian

Athos and Pelion's towering heights and Thracian Samos and the

shady hills of Ida, in Scyros and Phocaea and the high hill of

Autocane and fair-lying Imbros and smouldering Lemnos and rich

****** home of Macar, the son of ****** and Chios, brightest of

all the isles that lie in the sea, and craggy Mimas and the

heights of Corycus and gleaming Claros and the sheer hill of

Aesagea and watered Samos and the steep heights of Mycale, in

Miletus and Cos, the city of Meropian men, and steep Cnidos and

windy Carpathos, in Naxos and Paros and rocky Rhenaea -- so far

roamed Leto in travail with the god who shoots afar, to see if

any land would be willing to make a dwelling for her son. But

they greatly trembled and feared, and none, not even the richest

of them, dared receive Phoebus, until queenly Leto set foot on

Delos and uttered winged words and asked her:

(ll. 51-61) 'Delos, if you would be willing to be the abode of my

son "Phoebus Apollo and make him a rich temple --; for no other

will touch you, as you will find: and I think you will never be

rich in oxen and sheep, nor bear vintage nor yet produce plants

abundantly. But if you have the temple of far-shooting Apollo,

all men will bring you hecatombs and gather here, and incessant

savour of rich sacrifice will always arise, and you will feed

those who dwell in you from the hand of strangers; for truly your

own soil is not rich.'

(ll. 62-82) So spake Leto. And Delos rejoiced and answered and

said: 'Leto, most glorious daughter of great Coeus, joyfully

would I receive your child the far-shooting lord; for it is all

too true that I am ill-spoken of among men, whereas thus I should

become very greatly honoured. But this saying I fear, and I will

not hide it from you, Leto. They say that Apollo will be one

that is very haughty and will greatly lord it among gods and men

all over the fruitful earth. Therefore, I greatly fear in heart

and spirit that as soon as he sets the light of the sun, he will

scorn this island -- for truly I have but a hard, rocky soil --

and overturn me and ****** me down with his feet in the depths of

the sea; then will the great ocean wash deep above my head for

ever, and he will go to another land such as will please him,

there to make his temple and wooded groves. So, many-footed

creatures of the sea will make their lairs in me and black seals

their dwellings undisturbed, because I lack people. Yet if you

will but dare to sware a great oath, goddess, that here first he

will build a glorious temple to be an oracle for men, then let

him afterwards make temples and wooded groves amongst all men;

for surely he will be greatly renowned.

(ll. 83-88) So said Delos. And Leto sware the great oath of the

gods: 'Now hear this, Earth and wide Heaven above, and dropping

water of Styx (this is the strongest and most awful oath for the

blessed gods), surely Phoebus shall have here his fragrant altar

and precinct, and you he shall honour above all.'

(ll. 89-101) Now when Leto had sworn and ended her oath, Delos

was very glad at the birth of the far-shooting lord. But Leto

was racked nine days and nine nights with pangs beyond wont. And

there were with her all the chiefest of the goddesses, Dione and

Rhea and Ichnaea and Themis and loud-moaning Amphitrite and the

other deathless goddesses save white-armed Hera, who sat in the

halls of cloud-gathering Zeus. Only Eilithyia, goddess of sore

travail, had not heard of Leto's trouble, for she sat on the top

of Olympus beneath golden clouds by white-armed Hera's

contriving, who kept her close through envy, because Leto with

the lovely tresses was soon to bear a son faultless and strong.

(ll. 102-114) But the goddesses sent out Iris from the well-set

isle to bring Eilithyia, promising her a great necklace strung

with golden threads, nine cubits long. And they bade Iris call

her aside from white-armed Hera, lest she might afterwards turn

her from coming with her words. When swift Iris, fleet of foot

as the wind, had heard all this, she set to run; and quickly

finishing all the distance she came to the home of the gods,

sheer Olympus, and forthwith called Eilithyia out from the hall

to the door and spoke winged words to her, telling her all as the

goddesses who dwell on Olympus had bidden her. So she moved the

heart of Eilithyia in her dear breast; and they went their way,

like shy wild-doves in their going.

(ll. 115-122) And as soon as Eilithyia the goddess of sore

travail set foot on Delos, the pains of birth seized Leto, and

she longed to bring forth; so she cast her arms about a palm tree

and kneeled on the soft meadow while the earth laughed for joy

beneath. Then the child leaped forth to the light, and all the

goddesses washed you purely and cleanly with sweet water, and

swathed you in a white garment of fine texture, new-woven, and

fastened a golden band about you.

(ll. 123-130) Now Leto did not give Apollo, bearer of the golden

blade, her breast; but Themis duly poured nectar and ambrosia

with her divine hands: and Leto was glad because she had borne a

strong son and an archer. But as soon as you had tasted that

divine heavenly food, O Phoebus, you could no longer then be held

by golden cords nor confined with bands, but all their ends were

undone. Forthwith Phoebus Apollo spoke out among the deathless

goddesses:

(ll. 131-132) 'The lyre and the curved bow shall ever be dear to

me, and I will declare to men the unfailing will of Zeus.'

(ll. 133-139) So said Phoebus, the long-haired god who shoots

afar and began to walk upon the wide-pathed earth; and all

goddesses were amazed at him. Then with gold all Delos was

laden, beholding the child of Zeus and Leto, for joy because the

god chose her above the islands and shore to make his dwelling in

her: and she loved him yet more in her heart, and blossomed as

does a mountain-top with woodland flowers.

(ll. 140-164) And you, O lord Apollo, god of the silver bow,

shooting afar, now walked on craggy Cynthus, and now kept

wandering about the island and the people in them. Many are your

temples and wooded groves, and all peaks and towering bluffs of

lofty mountains and rivers flowing to the sea are dear to you,

Phoebus, yet in Delos do you most delight your heart; for there

the long robed Ionians gather in your honour with their children

and shy wives: mindful, they delight you with boxing and dancing

and song, so often as they hold their gathering. A man would say

that they were deathless and unageing if he should then come upon

the Ionians so met together. For he would see the graces of them

all, and would be pleased in heart gazing at the men and well-

girded women with their swift ships and great wealth. And there

is this great wonder besides -- and its renown shall never perish

-- the girls of Delos, hand-maidens of the Far-shooter; for when

they have praised Apollo first, and also Leto and Artemis who

delights in arrows, they sing a strain-telling of men and women

of past days, and charm the tribes of men. Also they can imitate

the tongues of all men and their clattering speech: each would

say that he himself were singing, so close to truth is their

sweet song.

(ll. 165-178) And now may Apollo be favourable and Artemis; and

farewell all you maidens. Remember me in after time whenever any

one of men on earth, a stranger who has seen and suffered much,

comes here and asks of you: 'Whom think ye, girls, is the

sweetest singer that comes here, and in whom do you most

delight?' Then answer, each and all, with one voice: 'He is a

blind man, and dwells in rocky Chios: his lays are evermore

supreme.' As for me, I will carry your renown as far as I roam

over the earth to the well-placed this thing is true. And I will

never cease to praise far-shooting Apollo, god of the silver bow,

whom rich-haired Leto bare.

TO PYTHIAN APOLLO --

(ll. 179-181) O Lord, Lycia is yours and lovely Maeonia and

Miletus, charming city by the sea, but over wave-girt Delos you

greatly reign your own self.

(ll. 182-206) Leto's all-glorious son goes to rocky Pytho,

playing upon his hollow lyre, clad in divine, perfumed garments;

and at the touch of the golden key his lyre sings sweet. Thence,

swift as thought, he speeds from earth to Olympus, to the house

of Zeus, to join the gathering of the other gods: then

straightway the undying gods think only of the lyre and song, and

all the Muses together, voice sweetly answering voice, hymn the

unending gifts the gods enjoy and the sufferings of men, all that

they endure at the hands of the deathless gods, and how they live

witless and helpless and cannot find healing for death or defence

against old age. Meanwhile the rich-tressed Graces and cheerful

Seasons dance with Harmonia and **** and Aphrodite, daughter of

Zeus, holding each other by the wrist. And among them sings one,

not mean nor puny, but tall to look upon and enviable in mien,

Artemis who delights in arrows, sister of Apollo. Among them

sport Ares and the keen-eyed Slayer of Argus, while Apollo plays

his lyre stepping high and featly and a radiance shines around

him, the gleaming of his feet and close-woven vest. And they,

even gold-tressed Leto and wise Zeus, rejoice in their great

hearts as they watch their dear son playing among the undying

gods.

(ll. 207-228) How then shall I sing of you -- though in all ways

you are a worthy theme for song? Shall I sing of you as wooer

and in the fields of love, how you went wooing the daughter of

Azan along with god-like Ischys the son of well-horsed Elatius,

or with Phorbas sprung from Triops, or with Ereutheus, or with

Leucippus and the wife of Leucippus....

((LACUNA))

....you on foot, he with his chariot, yet he fell not short of

Triops. Or shall I sing how at the first you went about the

earth seeking a place of oracle for men, O far-shooting Apollo?

To Pieria first you went down from Olympus and passed by sandy

Lectus and Enienae and through the land of the Perrhaebi. Soon

you came to Iolcus and set foot on Cenaeum in Euboea, famed for

ships: you stood in the Lelantine plain, but it pleased not your

heart to make a temple there and wooded groves. From there you

crossed the Euripus, far-shooting Apollo, and went up the green,

holy hills, going on to Mycalessus and grassy-bedded Teumessus,

and so came to the wood-clad abode of Thebe; for as yet no man

lived in holy Thebe, nor were there tracks or ways about Thebe's

wheat-bearing plain as yet.

(ll. 229-238) And further still you went, O far-shooting Apollo,

and came to Onchestus, Poseidon's bright grove: there the new-

broken cold distressed with drawing the trim chariot gets spirit

again, and the skilled driver springs from his car and goes on

his way. Then the horses for a while rattle the empty car, being

rid of guidance; and if they break the chariot in the woody

grove, men look after the horses, but tilt the chariot and leave

it there; for this was the rite from the very first. And the

drivers pray to the lord of the shrine; but the chariot falls to

the lot of the god.

(ll. 239-243) Further yet you went, O far-shooting Apollo, and

reached next Cephissus' sweet stream which pours forth its sweet-

flowing water from Lilaea, and crossing over it, O worker from

afar, you passed many-towered Ocalea and reached grassy

Haliartus.

(ll. 244-253) Then you went towards Telphusa: and there the

pleasant place seemed fit for making a temple and wooded grove.

You came very near and spoke to her: 'Telphusa, here I am minded

to make a glorious temple, an oracle for men, and hither they

will always bring perfect hecatombs, both those who live in rich

Peloponnesus and those of Europe and all the wave-washed isles,

coming to seek oracles. And I will deliver to them all counsel

that cannot fail, giving answer in my rich temple.'

(ll. 254-276) So said Phoebus Apollo, and laid out all the

foundations throughout, wide and very long. But when Telphusa

saw this, she was angry in heart and spoke, saying: 'Lord

Phoebus, worker from afar, I will speak a word of counsel to your

heart, since you are minded to make here a glorious temple to be

an oracle for men who will always bring hither perfect hecatombs

for you; yet I will speak out, and do you lay up my words in your

heart. The trampling of swift horses and the sound of mules

watering at my sacred springs will always irk you, and men will

like better to gaze at the well-made chariots and stamping,

swift-footed horses than at your great temple and the many

treasures that are within. But if you will be moved by me -- for

you, lord, are stronger and mightier than I, and your strength is

very great -- build at Crisa below the glades of Parnassus: there

no bright chariot will clash, and there will be no noise of

swift-footed horses near your well-built altar. But so the

glorious tribes of men will bring gifts to you as Iepaeon ('Hail-

Healer'), and you will receive with delight rich sacrifices from

the people dwelling round about.' So said Telphusa, that she

alone, and not the Far-Shooter, should have renown there; and she

persuaded the Far-Shooter.

(ll. 277-286) Further yet you went, far-shooting Apollo, until

you came to the town of the presumptuous Phlegyae who dwell on

this earth in a lovely glade near the Cephisian lake, caring not

for Zeus. And thence you went speeding swiftly to the mountain

ridge, and came to Crisa beneath snowy Parnassus, a foothill

turned towards the west: a cliff hangs over if from above, and a

hollow, rugged glade runs under. There the lord Phoebus Apollo

resolved to make his lovely temple, and thus he said:

(ll. 287-293) 'In this place I am minded to build a glorious

temple to be an oracle for men, and here they will always bring

perfect hecatombs, both they who dwell in rich Peloponnesus and

the men of Europe and from all the wave-washed isles, coming to

question me. And I will deliver to them all counsel that cannot

fail, answering them in my rich temple.'

(ll. 294-299) When h