University of Virginia Library


1

THE First Hymn of Callimachus.

To Jupiter.

While we to Jove the pure libations pay,
Than Jove what apter claims the hallow'd lay?
The God, whose power dispers'd, whose arm subdued
The daring Titans, earth's rebellious brood:

2

Who rules the sky, unbounded and alone,
For ever great, for ever fix'd his throne?
In trembling doubt my mind delays the song,
Thy birth disputed and the contest long:
How shall I sing? Dictæan dost thou hear,
Or, doth Lycæan more delight thine ear?

3

Zealous of fame and of his country's worth,
On Ida's mount the Cretan boasts thy birth:
The sons of Arcas with resentment glow,
And thy great birth-place in their country shew.
Who vaunts, dread sovereign, and who vaunts in vain,
Say—; but why ask?—the Cretans ever feign:

4

Their impious actions all their claims disprove:
Presumptuous, they have built the tomb of Jove;
Immortal Jove, who bears no dying frame,
A God, thro' all eternity the same!
Where the brown forests on Parrhasia nod
Thick, dark, and awful, Rhea bore the God:
All holy hence that blest retreat was made
Rever'd the gloom, and unapproach'd the shade:
Down from fair woman to the reptile race
Each teeming female flies the sacred place:

5

Nor daring there the pangs of birth to prove;
Such pious horror guards the hallow'd grove.
The mighty burden of her womb resign'd,
The goddess sought some living stream to find:
All due ablutions to perform, and lave
Thy infant limbs in its auspicious wave:
Arcadia's realm cou'd then no streams supply:
Its fields were barren, and its meads were dry:
No friendly Ladon blest the thirsty swain,
No silver Erymanthus fed the plain:
Then woods and wilds above the hollows rose,
Where smooth, with liquid lapse, Iäon flows:

6

Obscure with dust the rattling chariots rode,
Where thunders, deep-descending, Melas' flood:
Where rapid Carion rolls his waves along,
Couch'd in their haunts secure the savage throng:
O'er the parch'd desert, where Metope's tide
Chearing the vales, and plenteous Crathis glide,
Thoughtless of gurgling streams confin'd below,
The hinds, burnt up with thirst, impatient drag'd and slow.
Distrest the Goddess heav'd a feeble sigh,
Then spoke (and speaking rear'd her arm on high:)

7

“Prove thou, O earth, with me a mother's woes,
“Light are thy pangs and less severe thy throes:”
She said; her scepter on the rock descends,
Wide at the blow, the rock disparted rends:
Impetuous to the passage crowds the tide,
And rushes roaring down the rocks rough side.
This happy stream thy infant limbs receiv'd,
By thee first honour'd, as with thee it liv'd:
There bath'd thy limbs, and wrapt in purple bands,
Thy mother gave thee to fair Neda's hands:
To Dicte's cave commanding to repair,
And tend with secret zeal her mighty care:

8

Neda, of all the nymphs that Ammon nurst,
In age, save Styx and Philyre, the first.
Nor to the nymph was Rhea's favour shewn
By this great trust, and precious pledge alone:
No trivial honour, and no small reward,
Confirm'd her love, and witness'd her regard:
Her favourite's name, the favourite stream she gave,
Which rolls by Leprion's wall, its antient wave:
And to Callisto's race its bounty yields,
Gladdening at once both shepherds, flocks, and fields.

9

To Cnossus brought, the Melian nymphs abode,
With joy the Melian nymphs embrac'd the God;
His wants Adraste sedulous supplies,
And in the golden cradle lulls his cries:
Milk from the duteous goat the God receives,
And pleas'd the labouring bee her tribute gives:

10

Hence Amalthea 'midst the stars was found:
Hence fame the bee, and Jove's protection crown'd.

11

High-rais'd their brazen shields, around thee stand,
Great God, the Corybantes, solemn band!
Their clanging armour thund'ring they advance,
To the harsh sound responds the mystic dance:
Loud, rough and rude tumultuous clamours rise,
To mock old Saturn's ears, and quell thy cries.
Swift was thy growth, and thus divinely train'd
Mature the dawn of manhood was attain'd:

12

Yet ev'n, dread ruler of the Gods, when young,
Thy mind was perfect and thy sense was strong:
'Twas hence thy brother's, though the first in birth,
Nobly avowing thy superior worth,
And scorning envy, own'd it right, when giv'n
To Jove the empire of themselves and heav'n.
Vain bards of old to fiction that incline,
Fabling relate, that heaven by lot was thine:
In equal things the urns dark chance we try;
But how bears hell proportion to the sky?
The difference who but madmen have not seen,
Wide as the distance either realm between!

13

Did I form fables, like those bards of old,
With shew of truth my stories should be told;
Yet would I scorn to vilify my song,
With fictions to amuse the vulgar throng.
Let me avow, that not by chance was given,
But by thine own right hand the throne of heav'n:

14

Dread Power and Strength their mutual aid supply'd,
And hence were seated near their sovereign's side.
Then too, great king the eagle was assign'd,
To man the favorite augur of thy mind:

15

To me and mine oh! may he ever prove
The happy omen of thy care and love!
Thyself supreme; as thou hast well assign'd,
The Gods subordinate command mankind:

16

The merchant, poet, and the man of war,
Each to his guardian power prefers his prayer:
While mighty kings (whose universal sway
The soldier, merchant and the bard obey)
Their grateful offerings to the altar bring
Of Jove, their sovereign, Jove of kings the king.
The sooty smiths to Vulcan's temple move,
And hunters glory in Diana's love:
Mars reigns despotic o'er the warrior throng,
And gentle Phoebus claims the sons of song:
But monarchs bend at thy eternal shrine,
By Jove ordain'd, defended, and divine.
They rule from thee: while from thy towers on high
Alike extends thy providential eye
O'er kings, their nation's scourge, or kings, their nation's joy.
To these of glory thou the means hast giv'n,
Such as besuits the delegates of heav'n:

17

Their splendid pomp thy hand alone bestows:
But not on all a like profusion flows,
A like profusion of thy gifts divine:
As plain we note, great Ptolemy, from thine;
Whose plenteous blessings from almighty Jove,
At once thy power, and his protection prove.
To all the morn within thy breast conceives
Mature perfection the glad evening gives:
Thy greatest purposes short days fulfil,
Thy smaller, instantaneous as the will.

18

Their councils blasted some for ever mourn,
Years follow years, and days on days return;
While still dispers'd and scatter'd with the wind
Each purpose fails, their guardian God unkind.
Hail Saturn's son, dread sovereign of the skies,
Supreme disposer of all earthly joys:
What man his numbers to thy gifts could raise,—
What man hath sung, or e'er shall sing thy praise?

19

The bard is yet, and still shall be unborn:
Who can a Jove with worthy strains adorn?

20

Hail, father—! tho' above all praises, hear;
Grant wealth and virtue to thy servant's prayer:

21

Wealth without virtue but enhances shame,
And virtue without wealth becomes a name:
Send wealth, send virtue then: for join'd they prove
The bliss of mortals, and the gift of Jove.
End of the Hymn to Jupiter.

23

THE Second Hymn of Callimachus.

To Apollo.

See, how the laurels hallow'd branches wave;
Hark, sounds tumultuous shake the trembling cave!

24

Far, ye profane, far off! with beauteous feet
Bright Phoebus comes, and thunders at the gate;

25

See the glad sign the Delian palm hath giv'n;
Sudden it bends: and hovering in the heav'n,
Soft sings the swan with melody divine:
Burst ope, ye bars, ye gates, your heads decline;
Decline your heads, ye sacred doors, expand:
He comes, the God of light, the God's at hand!

26

Begin the song, and tread the sacred ground
In mystic dance symphonious to the sound,
Begin young men: Apollo's eyes endure
None but the good, the perfect and the pure:

27

Who view the God, are great; but abject they
From whom he turns his favouring eyes away:
All-piercing God, in every place confest,
We will prepare, behold thee, and be blest.
He comes, young men; nor silent shou'd ye stand,
With harp or feet when Phoebus is at hand:

28

If e'er ye wish in happy youth to lead
The lovely female to the nuptial bed:
Or grace with silver locks the hoary head:
If e'er ye wish your cities to secure
On old foundations, prosperous, firm, and sure.

29

My soul with rapture and delight surveys,
The youthful choir unwearied in their praise,
Ceaseless their lutes resounding; let the throng
With awful silence mark the solemn song:
Even roaring seas a glad attention bring,
Hush'd, while their own Apollo poets sing:
Nor Thetis self, unhappy mother, more
Her lov'd and lost Achilles dare deplore,

30

While Io, Io Pæan rings around:
Nay even sad Niobe reveres the sound:
Her tears the while, expressive of her woe,
No longer thro' the Phrygian marble flow:
Which stands a lasting monument to prove,
How vain each contest with the powers above.

31

Io again triumphant Io sing;
Who strives with heav'n, must strive with Egypt's king:
Who dare illustrous Ptolemy defy,
Must challenge Phoebus, and the avenging sky.
Immortal honours wait the happy throng,
Who grateful to the God resound the song:

32

And honours well Apollo can command
For high in power he sits at Jove's right hand.

33

But in the God such beaming glories blend,
The day unequal to his praise will end:
His praise, who cannot with delight resound,
Where such eternal theme for song is found?
A golden robe invests the glorious God,
His shining feet with golden sandals shod:

34

Gold are his harp, his quiver and his bow:
Round him bright riches in profusion flow:
His delphic fane illustrious proof supplies,
Where wealth immense fatigues the wondering eyes.
On his soft cheeks no tender down hath sprung,
A God, for ever fair, for ever young:

35

His fragrant locks distil ambrosial dews,
Drop gladness down, and blooming health diffuse:

36

Where'er the genial Panacea falls,
Health crowns the state, and safety guards the walls.
To powerful Phoebus numerous arts belong;
He strings the lyre and tunes the poet's song:
Guides from the twanging bow the feather'd darts,
And truths prophetic to the seer imparts:
Taught by his skill divine, physicians learn
Death to delay and mock the greedy urn.

37

Since by the love of young Admetus led,
His flock Apollo by Amphrysus fed:
The Nomian God, great shepherd we address
Our pastures to enrich, and flocks to bless:
And fertile flocks and pastures needs must prove,
On which Apollo shines with fruitful love:

38

No barren womb or udder there is found,
But every dam-twins sportive play around.
By Phoebus honour'd and conducted, man
Of future cities forms the glorious plan:
The God himself the strong foundation lays,
On which their walls successful builders raise.

39

In lovely Delos, for his birth renown'd,
An infant yet, the noble art he found:
Each day Diana furnish'd from her toils
The horns of Cynthian goats, her sylvan spoils:
These did the God with won'drous art dispose,
And from his forming hands an altar rose:
With horns the strong foundations closely laid,
And round with horns the perfect structure made:
Thus from his pastime, and his sport, when young,
The future strength of favour'd nations sprung.

40

Battus, illustrious chief, the truth can prove
To Lybia guided by Apollo's love:
The crow, auspicious leader, flew before,
And to the people mark'd the destin'd shore,
Where future kings shou'd reign in glorious state;
Thus swore Apollo—and his oath is fate.

41

Thee Boëdromian some, dread power, address,
And some implore the Clarian God to bless:

42

(For to thy merit various names belong:)
But none like lov'd Carnëan glads my song:
For so my country celebrates the God,
Who, thrice remov'd, here fix'd his firm abode.
From Sparta first, where first the name was sung
Carnëan, Theras led the chosen throng:
Great Theras, from a race of antient heroes sprung:
Recover'd Battus then from Thera's shore,
Thee and thy colony, bright Phœbus, bore;
In Lybia rais'd a temple to thy name,
And rites establish'd to record thy fame,

43

Which annual in his city are renew'd,
When bulls innumerous stain thy shrines with blood.
Io, Carnëan, all-ador'd, we bring
The choicest beauties of the painted spring,
Now gentle Zephyr breaths the genial dew,
That gives each flower its variegated hue:
But on thy altars, when stern winter comes,
The fragrant saffron breaths its rich perfumes.

44

To thee eternal fires incessant rise,
And on thy shrine the living coal ne'er dies.

45

When the glad hours bring round the solemn day,
On which Carnëan rites his people pay,
With joy the God beholds the choir advance,
Brown Lybian dames, and warriors, to the dance.

46

Not yet the Dorian colony possest
The plenteous soil, by fruitful Cyrne blest,

47

But thro' Azilis' gloomy forests stray'd:
When Phoebus from Myrtusa's brow survey'd,
And to his lovely bride (whose saving hand
From the fierce lion free'd the ravag'd land)
With pleasing favour shew'd the typic race,
Gift of his love and object of her grace.

48

Phoebus no choir, Cyrene, more divine,
Nor state more favour'd, e'er beholds than thine:
Mindful for ever of the ravish'd dame
Whose wond'rous charms inspir'd and blest his flame:
And hence superior honours are bestow'd
By grateful sons of Battus on their God.
Sing Io Pæan, sing the sacred sound;
The Delphian people to thy honour found:
What time thy golden arrows plenteous flew,
And the fell Python, dreadful serpent, slew:

49

Swift from thy bow they pierc'd the monster's heart,
While still the people cry'd, “Elance the dart:”
Each shaft with acclamations they attend,
“Io, send forth, another arrow send:
“Thee thy blest mother bore, and pleas'd assign'd
“The willing Saviour of distrest mankind.”

50

Envy, grown pale with self-consuming cares,
Thus shed her poison in Apollo's ears:
“I hate the bard, who cannot pour his song,
“Full as the Sea, and as the torrent strong,”
The fiend Apollo scorning, spurn'd aside
With angry foot indignant, and replied:
“Headlong descends the deep Assyrian flood,
“But with pollution foul'd, and black with mud;

51

“While the Melissæ sacred waters bring,
“Not from each stream, but from the purest spring,
“From whose small urn the limpid current rills
“In clear perfection down the gladden'd hills.”
Hail king, once more thy conquering arm extend,
To final ruin rancorous Envy send!
End of the Hymn to Apollo.

52

THE Third Hymn of Callimachus.

To Diana.

Goddess, delighting in the sylvan chace,
The bow, the quiver, dance and mountain sports,
Goddess of woods, Diana, thee we sing;
Woe to the bard whose songs forget thy praise!
Thee will we sing, and hence begin the song;

53

How, when a prattler on the thunderer's lap,
The little Goddess thus addrest her sire:
—“Be vow'd virginity thy daughter's lot,

54

“She cry'd, my father: and for numerous names
With thy Diana let not Phoebus vie.
Be mine the bow, the quiver: not from thee
Those arms I ask: permit but the request,
The swarthy Cyclops shall perform the task,
Point the wish'd shafts and string the flexile bow:
Let me bear light: and chace the flying game
Down to the knee in welted tunic clad.
Of Ocean's daughters, sixty lovely nymphs,
Who yet have seen, but thrice three summers bloom,

55

Young and unspotted all, to join the dance
My lov'd compeers appoint: and from the banks
Of Amnisus a train inferior send
In number and degree, attendants meet
My buskins to provide, or careful tend
My faithful dogs, when, wearied from the chace,
Their mistress lays her useless quiver by.
Each mountain be my dow'r: and, wheresoe'er
Thou wilt, allot one city to my charge:
Midst mountains my abode, rare shall the din
Of populous cities grate my peaceful ear:
Then only, mixing with the mortal croud

56

When women torn with child-bed's throbbing throws
Diana's aid implore: to me this lot
Immediate on my birth, the Fates assign'd,
For that, without a mother's pangs brought forth,
Who in my birth or bearing ne'er knew woe!”
—She spake and to confirm her words uprais'd
Her little hand, attempting fond to stroke,
With adulation sweet, her father's beard:

57

Oft fruitless: when a soft parental smile
His brows o'erspreading, thus he answer'd bland:
“When heaven's immortal beauties crown my joys,
“With such a progeny—proud queen of heav'n,
“Welcome thy jealous ire!—enjoy, sweet maid,
“Thy every fond request: nor thine alone,
“Still more and greater will thy father add!
“Of ways and ports inspectress thou shalt view
“Innumerous statues to thy honour rais'd:
“To thy protection and thy care assign'd,
“Sole tutelary guardian of those states,
“Be thrice ten cities—these thy name shall bear,

58

“Mark of distinguish'd favour—nor alone
“In these be honor'd: various more remain
“On isle and continent where thou shalt share
“In common with heaven's synod, holy rites,
“And reverence due of altars, fanes, and groves.”
Speaking his awful head the thunderer bow'd,
And ratified his promise with the nod.
Swift to Dictynna's mount the Goddess flies,
To Ocean thence, her lovely choir to chouse,
Young and unspotted all, a virgin train,
Who yet had seen but thrice three summers bloom.
In murmuring joy Cæratus' stream roll'd on,
And o'er his urn old Tethys smiling hung,

59

Whenas they view'd their favor'd race advance,
And bright Diana lead the nymphs along.
Hence to the Cyclops passing, those she found
In Lipara's isle (then Meligunis nam'd,
Now Lipara) crowding round a trough immense
That huge vulcanian anvils groaning bore:

60

Enormous work! which Neptune thy commands
Urg'd to performance—wond'rous was the toil!
Sight so deform, dread monsters huge in bulk
As Ossa's cloud-capt hills (from whose fierce front
One blazing eye, broad as a fourfold shield,
Horribly stern, shot terror) every nymph
Astonied views; but breathing discord harsh
When the loud bellows, as the north-winds roar
Tempestuous, ecchoed to the deep-fetch'd groan
Of every Cyclops, laboring to the blow;
Reverberating hoarse, with horrid din
From loud resounding anvils, as the weight
Of ponderous hammers with alternate force
Descended thundering on the tortur'd brass:
Ætna re-echoed, tho' Trinacria's realms,

61

The noise responsive rung, loud thunder'd back
From fair Italia's coasts, till bellowing round
To Corsica it reach'd, and shook the isle.
No wonder then, seiz'd with uncommon dread
The nymphs unable to sustain the shock,
Stood trembling and aghast: for not in heav'n
The daughters of the deities behold
The monsters unappal'd: but when her child
Wayward the mother views—the Cyclops strait,
Arges or Steropes she calls: whose forms
Besooted Hermes takes: the frighted babe

62

Its head hides trembling in its mother's lap.
But thou Diana, scarce three summers old,
(What time Latonia bore thee in her arms
To Lipara's Isle, that Brontes might bestow
The proffer'd natal gifts) he on his knees
Smiling receiv'd thee—when from his rough breast
The hair thou dauntless pluckedst: there the skin
Produc'd no future harvest, still despoil'd,
As by the wasting Alopecia's power.
Now too thus undismay'd, was urg'd thy suit,
While o'er the cooling brass the monster's gaz'd.
“Cyclops, haste, form me a Cydonian bow,
“Shafts, and a sounding quiver; for I claim
“No less than Pheobus, my descent from Jove.

63

“And if perchance some savage huge and vast
“A victim to my shafts hereafter fall,
“That victim shall be yours: the glorious prey
“Shall glut the Cyclops with a rich repast.”
She spoke, 'twas done; commanded, and was arm'd.
Forthwith th'Arcadian Gods retreat she sought:
Nor sought in vain: for'midst his bellowing dogs

64

A lynx's flesh dividing, him she found:
Pleas'd from the pack, or ere the boon she asks
Selecting, he presents two hounds half white,
Three hung with ears that sweep the morning dew,
And one with various spots diversify'd:
All staunch the rous'd up lion fierce to seize
Blood-happy; and indignant to the stall
The growling monarch drag; seven more he gave
Of Spartan breed (all fleeter than the wind:)
To scent the flying fawn, the sleepless hare,
The branching stag, the fretful porcupine,
Or trace the footsteps of the bounding roe.

65

And now equipt to high Parrhasia's mount
The Goddess leads: where, wond'rous sight! behold
Proud o'er the summit five tall stags advance,
Immense as bulls: their beamy antlers shone
With gold refulgent: rich Anaurus banks
Ere fed the lordly beasts: sight so august
With pleasing admiration, as she view'd,
Raptur'd the Goddess cries: “A prey like this
Well merits our acceptance, well deserves
Diana's first gift-offering to be made.”
Light o'er the unbending turf the Goddess flies,
Five was the sum: and four she quickly caught
To whirl her flying charriot; but the fifth,

66

A future labour for Alcmena's son
By heaven's dread empress destin'd, fords the flood
Of rapid Celadon: and, breathless half,

67

Securely pants on Cerynea's brow.
Girt with thy golden zone, with arms of gold
Richly caparison'd, I see thee mount,
Parthenia, virgin queen (from whose dread arm
Destruction lighten'd on earth's giant sons)
I see thee mount thy chariot, flashing gold:
While the stags proudly champ the golden bit.
But whither bore thee first thy rapid wheels?
To Thracian Hæmus: whence the north-winds blasts
Thro' loop'd and window'd raggedness infest
The houseless habitants:—but whence the torch
Light-shedding didst thou hew? Whence shot the flame

68

That gave the kindling touch? Olympus mount
The first supplied: the unextinguish'd blaze
Of Jove's blue lightning, flashing gave the last.
Goddess, how oft you bent the silver bow
Sportful exploring? From the twanging cord
The first shaft quivers in an elm's tough hide:
An oak receives the second: and the third
A panting savage in the wounded heart

69

Feels trembling! To far nobler game the fourth
Than trees or savages, directs its way:
I see it fly—dread hissing thro' the air,
Wing'd with destruction to those impious states,
Where hospitable virtue dies contemn'd,
And justice lives a name! How wretched they
Whose crimes incur thy vengeance? Flocks and herds
Of rot and pestilence wide-wasting die:
Hail levels all their labours, herb, fruit, grain:
Their blooming offspring gray-hair'd sires lament:

70

The wretched women or in child-beds pangs
Midst poignant tortures perish; or resign
Far from their native climes th'unwelcome birth,
But born to perish, and brought forth to die.
But whom thy genial smiles protecting view,

71

“Oh well are they—and happy shall they be!”
Distinguish'd plenty crowns the laughing fields,
The cattle bring forth thousands: hand in hand
Fair peace and plenteousness around them rove:
Nor death approaches there, till ripe with age
Gradual they drop contented to the grave:
Discord, that oft embittering social joys
Amidst the wisest comes, comes never there:
Union and harmony triumphant reign,
And every house is concord, peace and love!
Grant Goddess, grant my faithful friends may prove
Of that blest number: Oh assign thy bard,
Amidst that number place! So shall my soul,
The future hymn chaunt raptur'd—theme divine,
Sacred to fair Latona, and her race.

72

Apollo and Diana;—sacred chief
To thee chast queen, and thy immortal deeds:
Thy every attribute shall there be sung,
Thy dogs, thy bow, thy quiver and the car
That whirls thee brightly gleaming thro' the sky,
When to Jove's court repairing: thy approach
At heaven's eternal portals Phoebus waits

73

With Acacesian Hermes: This thy arms
And that the produce of thy sports to take:
Such erst Apollo's task, or ere at heav'n's
Blest banquets gread Alcides found a place,
Whose is that duty now: the rich repast
With thee approaching, at the gates of heav'n
He waits unwearied. Him mean time the Gods,
But chief his envious stepdame, ceaseless scoff
In pleasant vein, when from the car he bears
A bull's vast weight, or by its hind-leg drags,

74

Impatient spurning, a wild boar's huge bulk
Slow up heav'n's steep—while thee in crafty guise
Goddess he thus bespeaks: “On noxious beasts
“Employ thy darts: that mortals may bestow
“Alcides the preserver's name on thee!

75

“Suffer the harmless goat, the timid hair
“Secure to range; ought injure they mankind?
“Poor is the triumph there: the wild boars waste,
“The wild bulls level all the blooming year:
“These are man's foes: pour all thy rage on these.”
Thus speaking, all indignant he bears off
His burden, labouring: tho' on Phrygia's mount
Beneath the sacred oak, immortaliz'd

76

His corruptible part, he rose a God;
Not yet his hunger ceas'd; insatiate still,
As when in evil hour Dryopia's king
Theiodamas, he met, and madly slew.
The nymphs Amnisian from the golden yoke
Let loose the panting stags, and careful bring,
Rich provender from Juno's meadows reap'd,
Swift-springing trefoil: the immortal food

77

Of Jove's immortal coursers; and supply
In golden buckets cool refreshing draughts
Of heaven's pure water; to her father's court
When moves the Goddess: all the heavenly guests
At her approach rise graceful: while her seat
She takes sweet-smiling by Apollo's side.
That hallow'd day when on Inopus' banks
The Goddess leads the choir, when reign her sports

78

At Pitane or Limna; when the groves
Of Alæ Araphenides rejoice
From Scythian Taurus to receive their queen:
That day my oxen shall from labours cease:
For tho' Tymphæan, and of stoutest breed
To turn the mellow soil, needs must they drag
Their limbs o'erlabour'd, weary to the stall,
When Sol himself stands still: and from his car
Hangs smiling to behold the lovely choirs,
Gives time a pause, and lengthens out the day.
Say Goddess; (for from thee my soul receives
The heavenly inspiration, which to men
Less favour'd it reports—) say, what blest isle,
What city, mountain, port and nymph obtains

79

Thy love's pre-eminence? What fairs divine
Of birth immortal triumph in thy choir?
Hail Doliche of isles, of cities chief
Hail Perga—Hail of mounts Taygetus:
Of ports Bœotian Euripus! But how
To Cretan Britomartis shall I speak
Thy boundless love, unerring huntress, she?
With whose bright beauties fir'd, nine tedious months,
O'er Creta's mountains royal Minos rov'd,
Raging with wild desire: From whom she fled,

80

And in recesses secret mock'd his chace:
O'er precipcies rough, o'er rugged rocks
Nine tedious months he rang'd; nor ceas'd pursuit,
Till on a mountain's summit, ready now
To seize his prey—She sprung from off its brow,
Down to the ocean plunging: Friendly nets
Of fishers caught, and sav'd the panting nymph;
Hence call'd Dictynna: and the mountain hence
Dictæan: where in memory of the deed
Due rites Cydonians pay: thy chaplets wove
With, or the pine-tree's, or the mastic's boughs,

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Unhallow'd myrtle there: The flying nymph
Its branches caught, and hence incurr'd her hate.
Thee too, fair Upis, light-dispensing queen,
Dictynna, from the nymph the Cretans call.

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Nor was Cyrene, second in thy love:
To her thy favor gave the victor dogs
Wherewith th'Hypsæn virgin, at the tomb
Of fam'd Iolcian Pelias, o'er the plain
Lay'd the proud savage prostrate. Procris too
Was of thy lov'd associates: But of all,
Fair Anticlea claim'd thy prime regard
More lov'd than each, and dearer than thy eyes.
These were the first who on their shoulders bore
The sounding quiver and the twanging bow:
While the fair shoulder and th'exerted breast,
Were naked, in their native whiteness rich.
Iasian Atalanta, fam'd for speed,

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Admitted of thy choir, was taught by thee
T'elance the dart unerring: From her arm
Light'ning, behold, it trembles in the heart
Of Calydonia's monster: Nor the deed
Shall the brave hunters envy; while thy realms,
Arcadia, boast the trophies, the sharp tusks
Of the wide-wasting boar: Nor can I deem
The vengeful Centaurs with such fury fraught,
Rhæcus and mad Hylæus (by her arm
Tho' level'd bleeding on Mænalion's top)
As to pursue the huntress with their hate
In Pluto's realms: Yet will their wounds not lie,
But speak the truth and testify their shame.

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Hail great Chitone, venerable queen,
For numerous shrines in numerous states renown'd;
Hail Guardian of Mileteus; led by thee,
Cecropian Neleus touch'd those happy shores!
Chesias, Imbrasia, mighty Cabir, hail;
Sacred to thee great Agamemnon plac'd

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His vessel's helm: What time by thy command
At Aulis adverse winds detain'd his fleet
Big with destruction, breathing fix'd revenge
On Ilium, for Rhamnusian Helen's rape

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To Artemis Coresia Prætus rais'd
Grateful, his first remembrancer: For that
By thee restor'd, his madding daugthers ceas'd
Lowing to wander o'er Azenia's hills:
The second fane to Hemeresia rose,
When of thy favor more the monarch prov'd,
Their fury vanish'd, and their sense return'd.

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Beneath a beach the war-affecting race
Of Amazons, to thee a statue rais'd,
Where Ephesus' proud towers o'erlook the main:
Otrera first perform'd the holy rites,
While round in saliar dance they clang'd their arms,
Hoarse to the hymn resounding: till the choir
At length they form'd and measur'd o'er the ground
Respondent to the shrill fife's feeble strains.
Not yet Minerva, to the stags a foe,

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Drew from the hollow'd bones the flutes ripe sound.
Fair Sardis heard, the Berecynthian realms
The dissonant rout re-ecchoed, as the dance
With warlike din attending, rough the twang
Of rattling quivers from their shoulders rung.
Around the statue soon a temple rose,
Divinest edifice—whose stately height
And rich magnificence, the sumptuous east
Unrivall'd boasts, not by the Pythian dome
In all its glories equal'd!—Touch'd with pride
Contemptuous, and with madding fury seiz'd,
A crowd of stout Cimmerians, like the sand
For numbers, from Inachian Bosphorus,
To pour destruction on those sacred walls
Stern Lygdamis led on: Mistaken prince,
Alas how lost! nor thou, nor one of those
Whose chariots crowded o'er Cayster's mead
Thick as autumnal leaves; shall hence return

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Or view their country more! Diana's arms,
Blest Ephesus, thy fortress, thy defence!
Goddess of ports, divine Munychia hail!
Let none contemn Diana; Oeneus felt
Her heavy hand avenging: Let none dare
To rival in her arts the huntress queen:
For with no trivial mulct the proud presumption
Of Atreus' son she fin'd—Nor to their bed
Let any court the virgin: Wretched joys
Crown'd Otus and Orion's bold address:
Let none decline the solemn choir to join,
Not even Otrera's favour'd-self refus'd
Unpunish'd, unafflicted: Goddess hail,
Great queen, and be propitious to the song!
End of the Hymn to Diana.

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THE Fourth Hymn of Callimachus.

To Delos.

Of sacred Delos, great Apollo's nurse,
When, when, my soul, or ever wilt thou sing?
Most sacred, all the Cyclades might well
Each furnish theme divine: But Delos first
From every Muse demands the tribute lay,
For that she first their infant God receiv'd,

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And first triumphant hail'd the Deity.
Not with less hate the nine pursue the bard
Forgetful of Pimplea, than Apollo
Him who forgets his Delos:—Be my strains
Turn'd then to Delos: That th'approving God
At once may favour and inspire the song.
Tho' to tempestuous seas and storms expos'd,
Its firm foundations rooted in the deep,
Unshaken stands the isle; round whose rough shores

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(More pervious to the cormorant than horse;
Where whilom lonely fishers made abode:)
Th'Icarian waves their white foam roaring dash;
Yet to old Ocean's and his Tethy's court
When move the islands, murmuring none beholds
Majestic Delos graceful lead the train
Claiming prime honour: Corsica demands
The second place: Eubæa next appears,
Her follows sweet Sardinia, and the isle,
Which happily receiv'd the queen of love,
When from the waves emerging; for reward,
Its shores her kind protection ever share.

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These boast for their defence strong walls and towers,
But Delos her Apollo—and what tower
Impregnable as he? For towers and walls
Strymonian Boreas levels with the ground:
But ever unremov'd firm stands the God;
Thy guardian, happy Delos, thy defence.
Since various theme for song thy worth supplies,
Say of the holy legends which best pleas'd,
Which dost thou hear most joyful? shall I sing
How with his threefold trident, work immense
Of labouring Telchins, Neptune clave the rocks,

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Disparting wide—and gave to islands birth:
The massy fragments to the sea descending,
Precipitate downward roll: fixt, firm fixt,
On sure foundations 'midst th'encircling waves.
But thee no such necessity constrain'd,
Licens'd to range o'er Neptune's wide domains,
Asteria call'd, for that the thunderers arms
Eluding like a star thou shot'st from heav'n
Down to the deep abyss; and such thy name
Till bright Latona dignified thy cliffs.

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Oft bound from Lycian Xanthus to the coast
Of Ephyra, floating i'th' Saronic gulf
The mariner saw thee, joyous: but his course
As homeward plying, sought thee there in vain:
Now thro' the rapid straits of Euripus,
Now o'er those waves rejected, sailing swift
To Sunium, Chios, or the virgin isle,
From whose white bosom hospitably pour'd
The neighbouring Mycalesian nymphs, to hail
With gratulation sweet thy lov'd approach.
But when supplying to Latona's son
A happy natal place, pleas'd in return
Delos, the sailors nam'd the favourite isle:

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Since rooted in th'Ægean waves, no more
Uncertain and unseen it rang'd the main.
Thee not resentful Juno's vengeance mov'd,
The fury of whose wrath impetuous burst
On all the concubines of Jove: But chief
On bright Latona: From whose loins a son
Was destin'd to be born, that shou'd eclipse
And rival in Jove's love her darling Mars.
Big with the thought and brooding dire revenge
From heav'ns high tow'rs, sollicitous she kept
Observant watch: And, with the pangs of birth,
Detain'd Latona, lab'ring: Earth to guard
Two faithful centinels she fix'd: Dread Mars
On Thracian Hæmus furious shone in arms,
The continent with stern regard beholding: Whilst
His courses Boreas' seven-fold cave receiv'd.
With fixt attention, o'er the scatter'd isles
Thaumantian Iris, plac'd on Mimas' brow,
Hung sedulous surveying: These, what states
So e'er Latona in her anguish sought,
Instant, dire menacing, approach'd: And dash'd

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Each rising hope of hospitable rest.
Arcadia heard their mandates, heard and fled:
Hoary Phenæus, sacred Auge's mount,
All Pelops isle, Egiale except
And Argos: (There, where Juno reign'd supreme,
'Twere vain to hope admittance;) these as climes
Forbid, Latona sought not: But her course

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Shap'd towards Aonia: All Aonia flew,
Dirce and Strophie: While their hands support
Their sire Ismenus' steps: And far behind
Lag'd, by Jove's thunder marr'd, lab'ring his way
With footing slow, Asopus: While distrest
Each wood-nymph, Oread or Dryad sate,
Viewing their oaks coëval, on the top
Of moving Helicon nod their wavy brows
Loud groaning to the fall: Ye Muses say
If ought on oaks the Dryads fate depends,
Or with them born or dying?
When the gay trees, in beauteous verdure clad,
Their blooming honours shew, the nymphs, like them
In fullest charms all blithsome trip the plain:

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And when deform'd by surly winter's blasts,
The sympathetic nymphs lamenting mourn.
Apollo yet unborn dread rage conceiv'd
'Gainst these inhospitable realms: and thus
Denounc'd, oh Thebes, th'irrevocable curse:
“Oh miserable Thebes, why, why too soon
“Draw on thy certain fate? Compel me not
“Unwilling to foretel thy destiny!
“What tho' no Pythian tripod feels the God,
“What tho' not yet the serpent—(from the banks

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“Of Plistus rolling his nine-folds immense,
“And now around Parnassus, snow-capt mount,

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“Their slimy length involving) tho' not yet
“My darts have pierc'd the monster: Hallow'd truths
“Nathless, as from the Delphic laurel sure,
“Unerring hear me speak: Far off, far off:—
“Quick shall I find thee: Quick my arrows wash
“In Theban blood: Thine is the impious race
“Of that tongue-doughty woman! Hence nor thou
“Profane, not thy Cithæron shall the birth
“Of Phoebus hallow: Righteous is the God,
“And on the righteous only shines his favour.”
He spoke: And thence Latona wand'ring turn'd,
Sad sighing to Thessalia: (Since in vain
At Elice or Bura, and at all
Achaia's states inhospitable, sought
The burden'd mother entrance:) There alike
Unfortunate she rov'd: Anaurus fled
With great Larissa, and fam'd Pelion's mount:
Even Peneus too his disregarding waves

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Roll'd rapidly away thro' Tempe's vale.
Nor touch'd compassion thy relentless heart
Steadfast in hate, dread Juno; when her hands
In supplicating sort extending wide,
Latona thus besought the pitying nymphs:
“Intreat, ye daughters of the flood, fair nymphs
“Of Thessaly, try every blandishment,
“From Peneus, from your father to procure
“A birth-place for Jove's offspring: Beg him stay
“His mighty flood!—Ah Peneus, wherefore strive
“Swift to outstrip the winged winds? No race,
“No contest claims this speed: Move ever thus
“Thy seet, the ground light-leaving? or now first
“Do terror and Latona bear thee on,

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“And to thy flight add wings?—He hears me not,
“Too abject for regard! Ah me, my load,
“Where shall I bear thee?—For my slacken'd nerves
“And yielding sinews to the birth give place!
“Oh Pelion, happy Philyra's retreat,
“Stop thou thy course: oh stop:—Thou not receive
Jove's offspring,—when amidst thy mountainous shades
“The famish'd lioness torn in labour finds
“Safe shelter to cast forth her dolorous birth!”
The piteous river-god uprear'd his head,
Bedew'd with tears, and tenderly replied:
“Heaven witness, oh Latona, I thy pangs
“Behold not unregarding: But what power
“Than dire Necessity more strong? These waves

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“Thou know'st to other births have oft supplied
“Ablution grateful: But who dare defy
“The thund'ring threats of heav'ns avenging queen?
“View from yon mount how dread a centinel
“Frowns, menacing destruction, who with ease
“Cou'd totally subvert my deep foundation?
“What wilt thou then?—Say, can it please thy soul
“That wretched Peneus perish? Be it so:
“Let come what will come: Gladly for thy sake
“Even I will suffer: Tho' of streams most mean,
“I steal along contemn'd, or quite forgot
“My weed-grown channel mourn for ever dry.
“Come then—what more remains? Invoke Lucina.”
Speaking, he stop'd his rapid current. Mars
Pluck'd from its roots Pangæus, and uplifts

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The mighty mountain by its shaggy top,
About t'o'erwhelm the flood: Yet first his voice
Horribly stern loud thunder'd from aloft;
And struck with pond'rous lance, his brazen shield
Rung with rough clangor jarring: Ossa's mount
With the Cranonian fields, and Pindus' dales
Resounded trembling: All Thessalia
Astonish'd at the noise tumultuous shook.
As when the giant shifts his weary side,
Briareus, troubled Ætna's groaning mount
(His torturing load) disturb'd in each recess
Roars to its fiery center: All o'erturn'd,

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Vulcanian forges, Tripods, massy works
Harsh clash together falling: From the God's
Terrific Shield like discord rung. Nought mov'd
Firm to his purpose Peneus stood resolv'd,
And stop'd his rapid current; when the God
In grateful sort Latona thus addrest:
“Rest safe, kind Peneus; deem not, ought of ill
“That thou for me shalt suffer: Nor shall thus
“With ruin thy compassion be repay'd:
“Rest safe; thy merit shall not want reward.”
So saying, various toils mean time endur'd,
The sea-girt isles she sought, successless still;
Not even Corcyra's hospitable shores,
Nor fam'd for friendly ports th'Echinades
Dare give the wanderer entrance: From the brow
Of lofty Mimas Iris pour'd her threats,
And every island trembling heard and fled.
And now prepar'd Chalciope's retreat
Old Meropeian Cos, to seek: thus spoke
Her son's command prohibiting: “Not here

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“My mother, must thy son be born: these climes
“Tho' I nor disapprove, as amply crown'd
“With golden plenty: nor envy the renown
“Of thy Apollo's birth. But from the Fates
“To these blest realms another God is due,
“Of the great Soter race the brightest star,
“Immortal Philadelphus; at whose throne
“Shall either continent and every isle,
“(Far as from whence up the high steep of heav'n
“The fiery coursers bear the Sun's bright car,
“To where i'th' western world their journey ends)
“Nought murmur to bow down, and nought refuse
“To own that Macedonian's sway, whose soul
“Shall bright reflect his godlike father's virtues.
“Hereafter shall a common contest claim
“Our force united: when from th'utmost west
“Another race of Titans shall spring forth,
“In multitude like fleaks of falling snow,

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“Or as the stars that in the æther feed
“Innumerable—flashing dire o'er Grecia's realms
“The sword barbarian; and the Celtic Mars
“In all his fury rousing! loud laments,
“From Delphic towers, and Locrian battlements,
“From fields Crissæan, and each state alarm'd,
“Shall eccho round: the neighbour swains shall view
“Th'adjoining harvests blaze—and scarcely view
“Ere the devouring fire shall seize their own.
“Now shall they see, with horrible dismay,
“The hostile phalanx round my temples marshall'd:
“Now, midst my holy tripods, helms and shields
“And all the bloody implements of war,
“Unhallow'd and abominable! Cause
“Of future desolation to the throng,

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“Mad to profane Apollo's sacred seat
“And wage vain war with heaven! Of those arms
“Part for my prize I claim: and part, great king,
“Thy labours shall reward: all those that strew
“The bloody banks of Nile, fall'n from the hands
“Of vanquish'd owners, breathing out their souls
“In fire and wild confusion! these shall be
“The meed of thy illustrious toils! such truths
“Prophetic I pronounce: in after times,
“Thou, Ptolemy, shalt grateful honours pay:
“And bless the unborn augur of thy fame.
“Thou too, oh mother, aid the sacred purpose:
“O'er the rough waves a well-known island roams;
“Yet unconfin'd, like flower of Asphodel
“That yeilds to every blast, it wanders wide,
“As winds and waves direct its doubtful course,

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“Boreas or Auster, or th'uncertain flood.
“Thither thy burden bear: the willing isle
“Shall to Latona gladly grant admittance.”
He said: the isles retiring sought their place
Obedient to his word; Asteria then,
Of hymns divine regardful, to behold
The sacred choir of Cyclades, came down
In happy hour from fair Eubæa's coasts,
Encumber'd in her course with burdening weeds
From rough Geræstus gather'd: in the midst
She stood: and with a generous pity touch'd
At fair Latona's sorrows, quick consum'd

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The weeds impeding: for indignant flames
Burnt round her shores, the suffering pangs to view
Of female anguish: “Wreak, dread queen, she cried,
“Oh Juno, wreak on me, what vengeance best
“Shall suit thy soul: thy threats shall not disarm
“My honest purpose: come, Latona, come:
“Asteria, waits thee gladly.” Thus her toils
The wish'd for end obtain'd: beside the banks
Of deep Inopus (whose proud current wells
Most rapid, when from Æthiopia's rocks
The Nile descending deluges the land:)
Her wearied limbs she lay'd, the crowded zone
Unloosing; while against the sacred palm's

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Supporting trunk reclin'd, with bitterest pangs
She groan'd distrest; and big cold drops distill'd
Adown her fainting body to the ground.
Breathless amidst her throes, “My son, she cried,
“With intermitted fervency, ah why
“Thus grieve thy tortur'd mother? when to thee
“A kindly isle the wish'd reception grants:
“Be born, be born, and ease thy mother's pangs.”
But long the deed from Juno to conceal
'Twere vain to hope: for trembling with the tale
Her watchful Iris fled, and while her breast
Big pants with conscious fear, “Oh queen, she cried,

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“Majestic, all-ador'd, whose pow'r supreme
“Not I alone, but all confess: of heav'n
“Dread empress thou, sister and spouse of Jove;
“Nor fear we ought from other female hand!
“Yet for thy rage hear cause: Latona's birth
“A little isle presumptuous dares admit!
“The rest all fled: but this, of all least worth,
“Asteria sweeping refuse of the main,
“Even this invited, this receiv'd thy foe!
“Thou know'st the rest: but pass not unreveng'd
“Their Quarrel, who o'er earth thy mandates bear.”
Speaking she sate beneath the golden throne:
And as a faithful dog, when from the chace
Diana rests, sits watchful at her feet,
While still erect its sharp ears list'ning stand,
And wait each whisper of her voice: so sate
Thaumantian Iris: nor when sleep itself
Spreads o'er her weary lids his downy wings,
Her duty ought foregoing: by the throne
Her head she leans reclining, and thus laid

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Oblique, short slumber and disturb'd she shares;
Her circling zone not daring to unbrace,
Nor loose the winged sandals from her feet,
Lest sudden Juno's word shou'd claim her speed.
But, warm resentment rising in her breast,
Thus Juno vents her ire: “In sort like this
“Ye vile reproaches of licentious Jove,
“May ye in fearful secrecy conceive
“And thus in secret shame produce your births!
“Nor find a shelter to conceal your pangs,
“Base as receives the veriest abject wretch
“Of human race, birth-tortur'd: but on rocks
“And desart cliffs unpity'd, unreliev'd,
“Thus like the monstrous Phocæ yean your brood.

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“And sure Asteria's favour to my foe
“Cannot much rouse my vengeance: since her shores
“Barren and desolate can but afford
“A wretched hospitality! Yet prone
“To fury tho' I were, this wou'd disarm
“My steadiest purpose, that her virtue scorn'd,
“Tho' courted, to ascend my sacred bed,
“And to Jove's arms preferr'd the briny deep.”
She spoke: when from Pactolus' golden banks
Apollo's tuneful songsters, snowy swans,
Steering their flight, seven times their circling course
Wheel round the island, caroling mean time
Soft melody, the favourites of the Nine,
Thus ushering to birth with dulcet sounds
The God of harmony: and hence sev'n strings
Hereafter to his golden lyre he gave:

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For ere the eighth soft concert was begun,
He sprung to birth—the Delian nymphs aloud
All grateful to Lucina tun'd the hymn,
The sacred song rejoicing! Æther hears
And from his brazen vault returns the sound
Exulting; perfect glory reign'd: and Jove
Sooth'd even offended Juno, that no ire
Might damp the gen'ral joy, when Sol was born.
Then, Delos, thy foundations all became
Of purest gold: the circling lake, the flood
Of deep Inopus roll'd the splendid ore
Adown their glittering streams: and golden fruit
On golden stems thy favour'd olive bore.
Thou too from off the golden soil uprais'd
The new-born God, and fondling in thy breast
Thus spoke;—“See thou, Oh earth, so richly blest,
“Thou fertile continent, and ye full isles
“Who boast such num'rous altars, shrines, and states,

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“I am that poor uncultivated isle
“Despis'd and barren; yet observe, from me
“Delian Apollo scorns not to receive
“An honour'd name: and hence no other clime
“From any God shall equal favour share:
“Not Cenchris by her Neptune so belov'd,
“By Hermes nor Cyllene: nor by Jove
“Illustrious Crete: as Delos, happy isle
“By her Apollo: steadfast in his love
“Here will I fix, and wander hence no more.”
She spoke; and to the God, her snowy breast
Unfolding, gave sweet nurture: o'er the babe
Enamour'd smiling with paternal love:

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Hence, holiest of islands, thou wast call'd
The nurse of Phoebus: privileg'd from death,
From bloody Mars, and wild Bellona's waste,
Who ne'er destructive tread thy hallow'd plains.
But from the subject world primitial tenths

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Are sent to Delos: while each pious state
Unites with sacred joy to celebrate
The gen'ral feast; states flowing from each clime
Of the well-peopled globe, from east and west,
From Arctic and Antarctic pole—where heav'n
The virtue of the habitants rewards
With length of days: these to the Delian God
Begin the grand procession; and in hand
The holy sheaves and mystic offerings bear;
Which the Pelasgians, who the sounding brass
On earth recumbent at Dodona guard,

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Joyous receive, and to the Melians care
The hallow'd gifts consign: whence o'er the fields
Lelantian pass'd, to fair Eubœa's shores
At length arriv'd, a ready passage wafts
The consecrated off'ring to the shrine
Of Delian Apollo. Of the north,

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(Chill Boreas' climes, the Arimaspians seat,)
The loveliest daughters, Hecaerge blest,
Bright Upis, and fair Loxo, with a choir
Of chosen youth accompany'd, first brought
The grateful sheaves and hallow'd gifts to Phoebus:
Thrice happy throng, ordain'd no more to see
Their native north, but ever flourish fair
In fame immortal, servants of their God!
The Delian nymphs, whom to the nuptial bed
Midst melting music Hymen gently leads
Trembling with am'rous fear, their votive locks
To these bright daughters of the north consign:
And to the sons the bridegrooms consecrate
The virgin harvest of their downy chins.

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Thee bright Asteria (whose rich altars breathe
Divinest sweets to heav'n) the circling isles
Encompass round, and form a beauteous choir
Not silent nor devoid of sacred song:
But radiant vesper crown'd with golden locks,
Still views thee hymn'd with grateful harmony.
The youths, prophetic Olen, chaunt thy lays
Delighted: while the maids the solid ground
Shake with their choral feet: and load with wreaths
Fair Venus' sacred statue, which, from Crete
Returning with his peers, kind queen of love,
Theseus uprais'd to thee: who, when escap'd
The mazy labyrinth, death's sequester'd seat,
And dread Pasiphaë's offspring by thy aid,
Grateful around thine altar led the choir
With sacred dances to the tuneful harp.
And hence the sons of Cecrops annual send

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The fam'd Theorian vessel, that defies
The pow'r of time, for ages still the same.
Thee, ever honour'd isle, what vessel dares
Sail by regardless? 'twere in vain to plead

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Strong driving gales, or, stronger still than they,
Swift-wing'd necessity: their swelling sails
Here mariners must furl; nor hence depart
Till round thy altar, struck with many a blow,
The maze they tread, and, backward bent their arms,
The sacred olive bite: for such the sports,
To please thy infant fancy, and divert
With youthful mirth, the Delian nymph devis'd.
Hail Vesta of the isles, the middle place

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For thou obtain'st well-station'd; Delos hail,

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Hail Phoebus! and thou, Mother of the God.
End of the Hymn to Delos.

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THE Fifth Hymn of Callimachus.

To the Bath of Pallas.

Come forth, ye nymphs, whose sacred hands prepare
The Bath for mighty Pallas: haste, come forth,
Even now I hear her hallow'd coursers neigh:
The Goddess is at hand: haste Argive nymphs,

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Crown'd with the golden locks, Pelasgians haste.
Her ample limbs Minerva never bathes
In cooling streams, ere from her panting steeds

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With careful hands the noble dust is cleans'd:
Not tho' her arms with clotted gore defil'd

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She bears, the blood of earth's injurious sons.
But from her golden chariot first she frees
Their mighty necks, and with old Ocean's waves
Washes away the painful filth of sweat:
The foam expurging from their well-champt bits.
Haste, Argive virgins, haste; no unguents sweet

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(I hear her rattling wheels resounding ring:)
No unguents sweet, in curious alabaster,
For Pallas, nymphs, provide: the Goddess scorns
All mixtures of her pure and simple oil:
Bring ye no glass: beauty for ever shines
And graceful lustre in her beaming eye.
She, when on Ida's mount the Phrygian youth
Pass'd witless judgment, careless of the strife,

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Nor in the mountain-brass, nor lucid stream
Of silver Simois look'd, to aid her charms;
Nor she, nor Jove's fair consort: but the queen
Of smiling love fond seiz'd the shining brass,
Which pleas'd reflected every glowing charm,
While oft she plac'd and still replac'd each hair!
But Pallas, each gymnastic toil compleating,
(Like the twin stars on fam'd Eurotas' banks)
Rubb'd o'er her manly limbs with simple oil
Pure and unmixt, her garden's genuin growth.
Behold, ye virgins, how the early morn,
Like the pomegranate in vermilion dy'd,

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Or damask rose with glowing blushes spread,
Comes from the East: haste therefore and bring forth
The manly oil alone, by Castor us'd
And great Alcides: bring a golden comb
To smooth the shining beauties of her head.
Come forth, bright Goddess: lo, the grateful choir,
The daughters of the noble Acestorides,
Wait thy approach; bearing in holy hands
The glitt'ring shield of warlike Diomed:
As erst the Argives thy much favour'd priest
Eumedes taught; he flying from the death
By bloody hands design'd, to Creon's mount,

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Thy sacred image, which he bore away,
Plac'd on the craggy rocks, which thence obtain'd
The name, Pallatides, from thee, dread queen.
Come forth, Minerva, whose destructive frown
Whole states consumes; whose golden helmet darts

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Terrific lustre: thou, whose martial soul
Proud neighing steeds and clanging shields delight.
This sacred day dip not your ample urns,
Ye Argive maidens, in the running streams,
But from the fountains draw: this sacred day
Haste to the springs, or limpid Physadea,

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Or Amymone: for his hallow'd flood,
With gold and flowrets mixt, from fertile hills
Rolls rapid Inachus; the beauteous bath
For Pallas thus preparing. But beware,
Beware, Pelasgian, lest thy eyes behold
With accidental sight the martial maid:
Who in her naked charms Minerva views,
Guardian of states, ah hapless that he is,
Then last shall Argos view! Come then, come forth,
Minerva, all-ador'd: mean time the Muse
A tale renown'd shall to the virgins sing.
Great and unequall'd was the tender love
Which to a Theban nymph Minerva bore,
The mother of Tiresias: join'd in heart
No time or place cou'd separate the pair.
Whether to Thespians old, or Coronea,
Where to her honour on the fertile banks
Of pure Curalius altars ever blaze,
And blooming groves their fragrant sweets dispense,
Or whether to Bœotian Haliartus
The Goddess drove her coursers; still was seen

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Chariclo partner of the golden car:
No converse with the nymphs, nor song, nor dance
At all delight her soul, if not the choir
Her lov'd Chariclo led; yet she must pay
Her tribute to deep woe, ev'n she, tho' thus
By Jove's great daughter favour'd and esteem'd.
Their gilded clasps, their broider'd zones unloos'd,
The naked pair in Hippocrene's spring
Securely bath'd, while mid-day silence reign'd
Thro' Helicon's retired mount: they bath'd
Secure: 'twas stillness all: and not a breath
Disturb'd the mid-day silence of the mount.
Tiresias then, whose downy cheeks bespoke
The dawning man, sought with his panting dogs

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The sacred place: urg'd by strong thirst he came
For draughts refreshing from the limpid spring:
Wretch that he was! unwilling he beheld,
What, unpermitted, none of mortal race
May see unpunish'd! him Minerva thus,
Tho' mov'd with ire, addrest: “Hapless son
“Of Euerus, what luckless Deity
“Guided thy footsteps to this ill-starr'd place,
“Whence thou no more shalt bear thy forfeit eyes?”
She spoke: his eyes eternal night o'erspread;
Speechless he stood: chill horror froze his limbs,

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Amazement seal'd his tongue. But straight the nymph
Distracted cries, “Oh Goddess, what hast thou
“Inflicted on my son? and are the pow'rs
“Of heav'n such friends? Why, thou hast robb'd my child
“Of eye-sight, precious sense! Ah, wretched boy,
“True, thou hast seen Minerva's naked charms,
“But thou shalt see the face of Sol no more!
“Thrice miserable mother—Hence adieu
“Oh Helicon, adieu once-pleasing mount:
“A mighty tribute hast thou claim'd severe,
“My son's dear eyes, for those few flying goats,
“And tim'rous deer of thine, which he hath slain!”
Then, her lov'd son embracing, loud laments
Mixt with sad tears she pour'd, like Philomel
When sorrow for her young swells every note,
The Goddess mov'd with pity, to assuage

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Her grief, thus spoke soft comfort to her soul:
“Oh noble fair, recall each hasty word
“Which blind resentment utter'd: 'tis not I,
“Who o'er his eye-lids spread eternal night:
“What joys it me poor mortals to deprive
“Of that blest sense? But thus old Saturn's laws
“Firmly decree; “Whoever shall behold
“Any of heav'n's high habitants, unless
“By grace peculiar favour'd with the sight,
“Dread penalties await the fatal view!”
“'Tis past, irrevocably past: and thus
“The Parcæ spun th'unalterable doom
“Or ere thy son was born: thou then receive,
“Oh Euerides, this thy destiny!

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“How many victims wou'd Autonoë give,
“How many Aristæus, to accept
“With loss of sight their hapless son Actæon?
“Him, tho' co-partner in the sylvan chace
“With great Diana, nor that chace, nor sports
“In common shar'd, shall rescue from his fate:
“When naked in the Bath his luckless eyes
“Unwilling shall behold the huntress queen:
“But his own dogs blood-happy shall devour
“Their former lord: o'er woods and wilds shall rove
“His weeping mother to regain, sad lot!
“His scatter'd bones: and thee mean time shall call
“Thrice blest, who from the woods thy son, tho' blind,
“Receivest happy. Mourn not then, my friend,
“Since greater gifts, for thy dear sake, from me

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“Await thy son: him henceforth will I make
“A prophet, of all others most renown'd,
“As far most excellent: he shall discern
“Of birds the lucky or unlucky flight,
“With all their winged augury: and hence
“To Cadmus, and the fam'd Labdacidæ,
“And to Bœotians shall his soul reveal
“Many high oracles: a mighty staff
“To guide his footsteps will I also give;
“And crown him with a plenteous length of days.

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“And when his long-spun thread the Fates shall cut,
“He only midst the shades shall live inspir'd,
“And share dread Pluto's favour.” Thus she spoke,
And speaking gave the nod: her nod is fate:
Since Jove of all his daughters this high gift

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To Pallas only granted, that his pow'r,
Even all her father's glories she might bear.
No mother bore the Goddess: but the head

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Of sov'reign Jove, oh virgins: to whate'er
The head of Jove shall give the awful nod,
It stands unalterably sure: and thus
The nod of Pallas is the stamp of fate:
She comes, the Goddess comes: ye Argive maids,
To whom your country's best concerns are dear,
With gratulating songs, with chearful vows,

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And acclamations joyful, haste, receive
Th'approaching Goddess: hail, Minerva, hail,
Still let Inachian Argos claim thy care:
Hail or retiring hence, or to our state
Thy favour'd coursers guiding: and preserve
In all prosperity old Danaus' race.
End of the Hymn to Pallas.

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THE Sixth Hymn of Callimachus.

To Ceres.

The Calathus descending, its approach
Ye women, with the joyful chorus greet,
“Hail Ceres, fertile mother, rich encrease
“And all-sufficing plenty are thy gifts.”
The passing pomp view only, ye profane,

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Or virgin, youth, or matron, from the earth:
Not on your houses, rais'd aloft: nor dare

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Behold the sacred basket, ye whose mouths
With painful fasting are parch'd up and dry.
The bright-hair'd Vesper from a golden cloud

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Beholds the grand procession: he alone
The Goddess cou'd persuade to taste the draught
Refreshing, when thro' many a clime unknown
She sought her ravish'd daughter: say, dread pow'r,
How the long journey cou'd thy tender feet
Support enfeebled, to the distant west,
The tawny Æthiopians, and the climes
Fam'd for the golden fruit? All food mean time,

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Or meat or drink, and the reviving bath
Disdaining? Thrice the silver stream you past
Of Achelous, and as oft each flood,
That with eternal current ceaseless flows:
Thrice to the center of Sicilia's isle,
Fair Enna, urg'd your course: and thrice distrest
Beside Callichorus on earth lay down
With hunger faint, and parch'd with thirst: for meat
Or drink, or genial bath, to thy sad soul
Gave nor supporting strength, nor kind relief.
But cease, nor let th'ill-omen'd tongue relate
What caus'd the Goddess woe: far better tell
How she with wholsome laws supplied mankind:
Far better tell, her favourite how she taught,

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Triptolemus, blest Agriculture's art,
To reap the bladed crop, to bind the sheaves,
And with unmuzzled ox to tread the corn.
Far better (from such crimes to warn mankind,)
Relate the wretchedness, to which her rage
Proud Erysichthon thro' fierce hunger brought.
Not yet, Thessalian Cnidia their abode,
At sacred Dotium the Pelasgians rais'd

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A beauteous grove to Ceres: such the shade,
The swiftest arrow vain wou'd strive for passage,
Through branches close with branches interwove,
Tall pines, luxuriant elms, the fertile pear,
And apple glowing with its ruddy fruit.
A crystal river, bubbling from its spring,
Water'd the grove, which Ceres fondly lov'd
With deep affection, more than Enna's vale,
Triopium, or Eleusis. But, incens'd
His better Genius, what dread counsels rose
Destructive in proud Erysichthon's breast?
Behold with twice ten slaves he sallies forth,

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All in full vigour, and as in attempt
So in their strength gigantic: fraught with pow'r
Whole states to overturn, each mighty arm
Wielding a pond'rous axe; daring the Gods,

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Dauntless they rush into the hallow'd grove!
A poplar, mighty tree, that bore aloft
Its towering head to heav'n (beneath whose shade
The nymphs at mid-day sported) first was struck,
And falling groan'd foreboding to the rest.
The sacrilegious shock the Goddess heard,
And thus indignant spoke; “What impious wretch
“Dare wound my beauteous trees?” Instant she took

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Nicippa's form, her priestess: and in hand
The crown and poppies bore: the mystic key
Hung from her shoulders: and in sort like this,
She strove to sooth the vile offending mortal:
“My son, whose luckless hands thus wound the trees,
“That heav'ns high powr's hold sacred—oh, desist:
“Ev'n by thy parents tender love, I plead,
“Desist, my son: and send thy servants hence,
“Lest she, whose grove thou injur'st, be enrag'd,
“Dread Ceres.”—He, with looks more furious far
Ey'd her askance, than upon Tmarus mount
The lioness birth-tortur'd (from her eyes
When anguish flashes fury) growling views
Th'advent'rous hunter: “Hence, he cries, this axe
“Lest in that corse thou feelest: hence and know,
“For Erysichthon this thy sacred wood
“A splendid dome shall form: whose jovial roof
“Shall with the banquets revels ceaseless ring.”

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He spoke insulting: Nemesis his words
Ill-omen'd, frowning mark'd: Ceres incens'd,
Glow'd with resentment: instant she assum'd
The Deity: on earth she stood, her head
Touched the heav'n: the slaves, with horror struck,
Rush from the grove half-dead: and in the trunks
Fast fix'd their axes leave: unnoted these
(As by their Lord's commanding pow'r constrain'd)

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She suffers to retire: while thus she pass'd
On him the dreadful sentence: “Build, ay, build,
“Thou dog in heart, in suff'ring, build the dome
“To share the jovial banquets: feasts indeed,
“And feasts incessant are hereafter thine.”
She spoke: and Erysichthon instant felt
Her heavy hand avenging: hunger keen,
Horribly strong and burning with fierce rage,
Dry'd up his bowels and consum'd his frame.
Wretch that he was, enjoyment but increas'd
Desire: his hunger was but fed by food!
Twice ten prepar'd him food, twelve slaves drew wine,
For Bacchus was his foe: since, who offends
Dread Ceres, must offend the God of wine.
From social banquets or the friendly feast
His parents, still devising each pretext

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With painfulness of care, detain'd their son:
Him to Itonian Pallas' sacred games
Th'Ormenidæ invite: His mother cries,
“To Cranon tribute to demand he went
“From hence on yesterday.” Polyxo came,
Together with the sire to call the son
To her Actorion's nuptials: tears o'erflow'd
The troubled mother's eyes, while thus confus'd:
“Thee Triopas shall visit; but my son,
“Nine days has groan'd beneath a deadly wound
“A boar's fell tusk on Pindus' mount infix'd.”
Unhappy tender parent! what excuse
Didst thou not feign? to feasts did any call?
Abroad was Erysichthon:—to the mirth
Of sprightly nuptials?—or the disc hath struck,
Or from his horse hath fall'n the luckless youth;

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Or numbers he his flocks in Othrys' dale.
Mean time within, the glutton banqueter,
Sequester'd, fed his hunger: still the more
His greedy maw devour'd, the more demand
His swoln insatiate bowels: where sinks down
Th'improfitable food, as rivers lost
In the voracious ocean's deep abyss.
As waxen shapes, or snow on Mimas top
Before the mid-day Sun, so fast consum'd
His miserable form: till on the nerves,
The fibres and the bones were only found.
The mother wept, the tender sister plain'd,
His nurse, and each domestic wail'd his hap,
Lamenting: his grey hairs in piteous sort
While the old father tore, and thus pour'd forth
To unregarding Neptune his sad soul:
“Oh, falsely call'd my father—view this third,
“This third from thee! if from thyself indeed
“And fair Æolian Canace I hold
“My high descent: and yet this son of mine
“Is made thus wretched! Oh, that struck by Phoebus
“My hands had to him paid the last sad rites!

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“But now fierce hunger, all-voracious, sits
“On his sunk eye-balls: father, or avert
“This fell disease, or take him to thyself
“And feed the suff'rer: for no more my board
“Its wonted hospitality affords:
“The widow'd fields, the still, deserted stalls
“Mourn their lost habitants: and ev'n the cars
“Their very mules resign: a sacrifice

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“His pious mother had for Vesta fed,
“The long well-pamper'd ox; the victor steed,
“Once glorious in the course and proud in war;
“And ev'n domestic animals, become
“All victims to his raging appetite.”
While ought the house of Triopas contain'd,
His menial train alone the evil knew:
But there exhausted all, when famine rag'd
Thro' the deep desert palace, sad to view
Beside the public ways the suppliant sate,
A monarch's son! and ruefully intreats
The scraps and sordid refuse of each feast!
Oh Ceres, ne'er be foe of thine my friend.
Nor under roof with me! th'unhallow'd wretch

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Thy hate incurring, justly merits mine.
Ye virgins sing, ye women join the song,
“Hail Ceres, fertile mother, rich encrease,
“And all-sufficing plenty are thy gifts.”
As to thy shrine four milk-white coursers bear
The sacred Calathus, so wheeling round
Still favourable, Goddess, lead along
The varying seasons, spring and summer clad
In milk-white robes, winter and autumn rich

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With fruits; and to the next preserve the year.
As with uncover'd head and naked feet
We trace the city, so from harms secure
May we possess our bodies! Fill'd with gold
As women bear the sacred canisters,
With the bright ore so may our coffers swell!
Far as the Prytaneum, let the pomp
By women not admitted to the rites
Most secret be attended: there receiv'd
And usher'd to the Goddess, by those dames
Most venerable, who thrice twenty springs
Have seen returning: and let those opprest

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By weight of years, by pregnancy or pangs
Of soon-approaching child-birth, but attend
Far as their feeble knees permit: on such
Ceres as richly will her blessings pour,
As if they reach'd her temple! Goddess hail,
In concord and prosperity preserve
This state: and from the fertile fields return
Maturest plenty. Feed our flocks and herds;
Bring forth the corn, and happy harvests give;
And peace, fair peace support, that the glad hand
Who sow'd may reap his labour's happy fruit.

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On me propitious smile, queen thrice ador'd,
Great empress, of all female pow'rs supreme!
End of the Hymns of Callimachus.