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 promontory,

Touch'd at Laconia's soil, in which a town Their ship arrived 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

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 grape-full 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 vehe
ment cries

At those fell fires of Phoebus' 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 shaped :

"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,

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 Gnossus, 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 let 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 con

With zeal to him, and follow'd wondering all

To Pythos; and upon his name did call

With Io-paans, 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 twotopp'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 re

tired,

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 skean (or slaughtering 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.

THE END OF THE HYMN to apollo.

Jove

Inform'd at midnight the effect of love,
Unknown to either man or Deity;
Sweet sleep once having seized the jeal s
eye

Of Juno, deck'd with wrists of ivy.
But when great Jove's high mind wa

summate,

The tenth month had in heaven ned the date

Of Maia's labour; and into the sight
She brought in one birth labours infinite.
For then she bore a son, that all tried
ways

Could turn and wind to wish'd events assays.

A fair-tongued, but false-hearted counsellor,

Rector of ox-stealers; and for all stealths bore

A varied finger. Speeder of night's spies,
And guide of all her dreams' obscurities.
Guard of door-guardians; and was born
to be,

Amongst th' Immortals, that wing'd Deity
That in an instant should do acts would ask
The powers of others an eternal task.
Born in the morn, he formed his lute at
noon,

At night stole all the oxen of the Sun; And all this in his birth's first day was done,

Which was the fourth of the increasing

moon.

Because celestial limbs sustain'd his strains, His sacred swathe-bands must not be his chains.

So, starting up, to Phoebus' herd he stept, Found straight the high-roof'd cave where they were kept,

And th entry passing, he th' invention found

Of making lutes; and did in wealth abound
By that invention; since he first of all
Was author of that engine musical.
By this mean moved to the ingenious
work :

Near the cave's inmost overture did lurk
A tortoise, tasting th' odoriferous grass,
Leisurely moving; and this object was
The motive to Jove's son (who could con-

vert

To profitablest uses all desert
That nature had in any work convey'd)
To form the lute; when, smiling, thus he
said:

Claim'd in this instrument. From whence shall spring

Play fair and sweet, to which may Graces sing.

A pretty painted coat thou putt'st on here, O Tortoise, while thy hill-bred vital sphere Confines thy fashion; but, surprised by

me,

I'll bear thee home, where thou shalt ever be

A profit to me; and yet nothing more
Will I contemn in my merited store.
Goods, with good parts got, worth and
honour gave;

Left goods and honours every fool may have.

And since thou first shalt give me means to live

I'll love thee ever. Virtuous qualities give To live at home with them enough content,

Where those that want such inward ornament

Fly out for outward, their life made their load.

'Tis best to be at home, harm lurks abroad. And certainly thy virtue shall be known, 'Gainst great-ill-causing incantation To serve as for a lance or amulet. And where, in comfort of thy vital heat, Thou now breathest but a sound confused, for song,

Exposed by nature, after death, more strong

Thou shalt in sounds of art be; and command

Song infinite sweeter." Thus with either hand

He took it up, and instantly took flight Back to his cave, with that his homedelight.

Where (giving to the mountain tortoise

vents

use,

Which thy ill form shall never so seduce
T'avert the good to be inform'd by it,
In pliant force, of my form-forging wit."
Then the slow tortoise, wrought on by
Uc his mind,

He thus saluted: "All joy to the kind
Instinct nature in thee; born to be
piriler of dances, company

ts, and following banquets, graced na blest For bea ng light to all the interest

VOL. II.

He made of splitted quills, in equal space Imposed upon the neck, and did embrace Both back and bosom. At whose height (as gins

T' extend and ease the strings) he put in pins.

Seven strings of several tunes he then applied,

Made of the entrails of a sheep well-dried, And throughly twisted. Next he did provide

A case for all, made of an ox's hide,

U