Hail! greatest son of Saturn, wise disposer
Of every good: thy praise what man yet born
Has sung? or who that may be born shall sing?
Again, and often hail! indulge our prayer,

Great father! grant us virtue, grant us wealth:
For without virtue, wealth to man avails not;
And virtue without wealth exerts less power,
And less diffuses good. Then grant us, gracious,
Virtue and wealth; for both are of thy gift.

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THE SECOND HYMN OF CALLIMACHUS.

TO APOLLO.

AH! how the laurel, great Apollo's tree,
And all the cavern shakes! far off, far

off,

The man that is unhallow'd: for the god, The god approaches. Hark! he knocks; the gates Feel the glad impulse; and the sever'd bars Submissive clink against their brazen portals. Why do the Delian palms incline their boughs, Self-mov'd and hovering swans, their throats releas'd,

:

From native silence, carol sounds harmonious?

Begin, young men, the hymn: let all your harps Break their inglorious silence; and the dance, 11 In mystic numbers trod, explain the music. But first by ardent prayer, and clear lustration, Purge the contagious spots of human weakness:

Impure no mortal can behold Apollo.

So may ye flourish, favour'd by the god,
In youth with happy nuptials, and in age
With silver hairs, and fair descent of children;
So lay foundations for aspiring cities,
And bless your spreading colonies' increase.
Pay sacred reverence to Apollo's song;
Lest wrathful the far-shooting god emit
His fatal arrows.

Silent Nature stands;

And seas subside, obedient to the sound

Of Iö, Iö Pean! nor dares Thetis

Longer bewail her lov'd Achilles' death;

For Phoebus was his foe. Nor must sad Niobe In fruitless sorrow persevere, or weep

E'en through the Phrygian marble. Hapless

mother!

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Whose fondness could compare her mortal offspring To those which fair Latona bore to Jove.

Iö! again repeat ye, Iö Pean!

Against the deity 'tis hard to strive.

He that resists the power of Ptolemy,

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Resists the power of heaven, for power from heaven
Derives; and monarchs rule by gods appointed.
Recite Apollo's praise, till night draws on,
The ditty still unfinish'd; and the day
Unequal to the godhead's attributes

Various, and matter copious of your songs.

Sublime at Jove's right hand Apollo sits, And thence distributes honour, gracious king, And theme of verse perpetual. From his robe Flows light ineffable: his harp, his quiver, And Lictian bow are gold: with golden sandals His feet are shod; how rich! how beautiful!

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Beneath his steps the yellow mineral rises;
And earth reveals her treasures. Youth and beauty
Eternal deck his cheek; from his fair head
Perfumes distil their sweets; and cheerful health,
His duteous handmaid, through the air improv'd,
With lavish hand diffuses scents ambrosial.

The spear-man's arm by thee, great God, directed,
Sends forth a certain wound. The laurel'd bard,
Inspir'd by thee, composes verse immortal.
Taught by thy art divine, the sage physician
Eludes the urn; and chains, or exiles death.
Thee, Nomian, we adore; for that from Heaven
Descending, thou on fair Amphrysus' banks
Didst guard Admetus's herds.

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Sithence the cow Produc'd an ampler store of milk; the she-goat Not without pain dragg'd her distended udder; And ewes, that erst brought forth but single lambs, Now dropp'd their twofold burthens.

cattle,

Blest the

On which Apollo cast his favouring eye!

But Phoebus, thou to man beneficent, Delight'st in building cities. Bright Diana, Kind sister to thy infant-deity,

New-wean'd, and just arising from the cradle, Brought hunted wild goats' heads, and branching antlers

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Of stags, the fruit and honour of her toil.
These with discerning hand thou knew'st to range,
(Young as thou wast) and in the well-fram'd models,
With emblematic skill and mystic order,

Thou showd'st, where towers or battlements should

rise;

Where gates should open; or where walls should compass:

While from thy childish pastime man received
The future strength and ornament of nations.
Battus, our great progenitor, now touch'd
The Libyan strand; when the foreboding crow 80
Fiew on the right before the people, marking
The country, destin'd the auspicious seat

Of future kings, and favour of the god,
Whose oath is sure, and promise stands eternal.

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Or Boedromian hear'st thou pleas'd, or Clarian, Phoebus, great king? for different are thy names, As thy kind hand has founded many cities, Or dealt benign thy various gifts to man. Carnean let me call thee! for my country Calls thee Carnean! the fair colony Thrice by thy gracious guidance was transported, Ere settled in Cyrene; there w' appointed Thy annual feasts, kind god, and bless thy altars Smoking with hecatombs of slaughter'd bulls; As Carnus, thy high-priest and favour'd friend, Had erst ordain'd; and with mysterious rites, Our great forefathers taught their sons to worship. Iö Carnean Phoebus! Iö Pean!

The yellow crocus there, and fair narcissus Reserve the honours of their winter-store, To deck thy temple; till returning spring Diffuses nature's various pride; and flowers Innumerable, by the soft south-west Open'd, and gather'd by religious hands, Rebound their sweets from th' odoriferous pave

ment.

Perpetual fires shine hallow'd on thy altars,
When annual the Carnean feast is held :
The warlike Libyans, clad in armour, lead

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The dance, with clanging swords and shields they

beat

The dreadful measure: in the chorus join

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Their women, brown but beautiful: such rites
To thee well pleasing. Nor had yet thy votaries,
From Greece transplanted, touch'd Cyrene's banks,
And lands determin'd for their last abodes;
But wander'd through Azilis' horrid forest
Dispers'd; when from Myrtusa's craggy brow,
Fond of the maid, auspicious to the city,
Which must hereafter bear her favour'd name,
Thou gracious deign'st to let the fair one view.
Her typic people; thou with pleasure taught'st her
To draw the bow, to slay the shaggy lion,
And stop the spreading ruin of the plains.
Happy the nymph, who honour'd by thy passion,
Was aided by thy power! the monstrous Python
Durst tempt thy wrath in vain: for dead he fell,
To thy great strength and golden arms unequal.
Iö! while thy unerring hand elanc'd

Another, and another dart; the people
Joyful repeated Iö! Iö Pean!

Elance the dart, Apollo: for the safety

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And health of man, gracious thy mother bore thee.
Envy, thy latest foe, suggested thus:

Like thee I am a power immortal; therefore
To thee dare speak. How canst thou favour partial
Those poets who write little? Vast and great
Is what I love: the far-extended ocean

To a small rivulet I prefer. Apollo

Spurn'd Envy with his foot; and thus the god : Dæmon, the head-long current of Euphrates, Assyrian river, copious runs, but muddy,

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