e cavaliers of swift steeds.

XVII. TO HERMES

I sing of Cyllenian Hermes, slayer of Argus, prince of Cyllene and of
Arcadia rich in sheep, the boon messenger of the Immortals. Him did Maia
bear, the modest daughter of Atlas, to the love of Zeus. The company of
the blessed Gods she shunned, and dwelt in a shadowy cave where Cronion
was wont to lie with the fair-tressed nymph in the dark of night, while
sweet sleep possessed white-armed Hera, and no Immortals knew it, and no
deathly men. Hail to thee, thou son of Zeus and Maia, with thee shall I
begin and pass on to another song. Hail, Hermes, Giver of grace, thou
Guide, thou Giver of good things.

XVIII. TO PAN

[Pan. With Goat and Shepherd's Crook. Terra cotta Statuette from
Tanagra, in the British Museum: lang230.jpg]

Tell me, Muse, concerning the dear son of Hermes, the goat-footed, the
twy-horned, the lover of the din of revel, who haunts the wooded dells
with dancing nymphs that tread the crests of the steep cliffs, calling
upon Pan the pastoral God of the long wild hair. Lord is he of every
snowy crest and mountain peak and rocky path. Hither and thither he goes
through the thick copses, sometimes being drawn to the still waters, and
sometimes faring through the lofty crags he climbs the highest peak
whence the flocks are seen below; ever he ranges over the high white
hills, and ever among the knolls he chases and slays the wild beasts, the
God, with keen eye, and at evening returns piping from the chase,
breathing sweet strains on the reeds. In song that bird cannot excel him
which, among the leaves of the blossoming springtide, pours forth her
plaint and her honey-sweet song. With him then the mountain nymphs, the
shrill singers, go wandering with light feet, and sing at the side of the
dark water of the well, while the echo moans along the mountain crest,
and the God leaps hither and thither, and goes into the midst, with many
a step of the dance. On his back he wears the tawny hide of a lynx, and
his heart rejoices with shrill songs in the soft meadow where crocus and
fragrant hyacinth bloom all mingled amidst the grass. They sing of the
blessed Gods and of high Olympus, and above all do they sing of boon
Hermes, how he is the fleet herald of all the Gods, and how he came to
many-fountained Arcadia, the mother of sheep, where is his Cyllenian
demesne, and there he, God as he was, shepherded the fleecy sheep, the
thrall of a mort