Meanwhile the Day, ethereal-born, arose out of the flood of flowing Ocean, bearing light to men. Apollo passed toward the sacred wood, which from the inmost depths of its green glen echoes the voice of Neptune, and there stood on the same spot in green Onchestus that same old man, the vine-dresser, who was employed hedging his vineyard there. Latona’s glorious son began: “Pray tell me, ancient hedger of Onchestus green, whether a drove of kine has passed this way, all heifers with crooked horns? For they have been stolen from the herd in high Pieria, where a black bull was fed apart, between two woody mountains in a neighboring glen, though four fierce dogs guarded them. And what is strange, the author of this theft has stolen all the fatted heifers, but the four dogs and the black bull are left. They were stolen last night at set of sun, of their soft beds and their sweet food bereft. Now tell me, old man, born before the world began, have you seen any one pass with the cows?” The old man replied: “My friend, it would require no common skill justly to speak of everything I see. On various purposes of good or ill many pass by my vineyard, and for me it is difficult to know the invisible thoughts which may be in all those many minds. Thus much alone I can certainly say. I tilled these vines until the decline of day, and then I thought I saw, but dare not speak with certainty of such a wondrous thing, a child who could scarcely have been born a week, closely following those fair-horned cattle. And in his hand he held a polished stick, and, as on purpose, he walked wavering from one side to the other of the road, and with his face turned in the opposite direction from his steps.” Apollo, hearing this, passed quickly on. No winged omen could have shown more clearly who it was. So Apollo wrapped a purple atmosphere around his shoulders, and like fire went to famous Pylos, seeking his kine there. He found their tracks, yet hardly cold, and cried: “What wonder do mine eyes behold. Here are the footsteps of the horned herd turned back toward their fields of asphodel; but these are not the tracks of beast or bird, gray wolf or bear, or lion of the dell, or maned Centaur. Sand was never stirred by man or woman thus! Inexplicable! Who with unwearied feet ever could impress the sand with such enormous vestiges?”
Having spoken thus, Phœbus impetuously sought high Cyllene’s forest-cinctured hill, and the deep cavern where dark shadows lie, the home of Hermes. A delightful odor from the dew was all about. And Phœbus stooped under the craggy roof arched over the dark cavern. Maia’s child perceived from afar that he came angry about the cows that had been stolen. Then Hermes piled over him his fine and fragrant swaddling clothes. There he lay like a burning spark covered, beneath the ashes cold and dark, an infant who had sucked his fill and now was newly washed and put to bed, awake but courting sleep with weary will. And gathered in a lump, hands, feet and head, he lay, and his beloved tortoise still he grasped and held under his shoulder blade. Phœbus knew the lovely mountain goddess, not less her subtle, swindling baby, who lay swathed in his sly wiles. He looked sharp round every crook of the ample cavern for his kine, and when he saw them not he took the glittering key and opened three great hollow recesses in the rock, where many a nook was filled with sweet food immortals swallow, and mighty heaps of silver and of gold were piled within—a wonder to behold, and white and silver robes, all overwrought with cunning workmanship. Except among the gods there can be naught in the wide world to be compared with it. Latona’s offspring, after having sought his herds in every corner, thus greeted great Hermes: “Little cradled rogue, tell me about my illustrious heifers, where are they? Speak quickly, or a quarrel between us must rise, and the event will be that I shall haul you into dismal Tartarus, in fiery gloom to dwell eternally. Nor shall your father nor your mother loose the bars of that black dungeon. Utterly you shall be cast out from the light of day, unblest as they to rule the ghosts of men.” Hermes slyly answered: “Son of great Latona, what a speech is this! Why come you here to ask me what has been done with the wild oxen which it seems you miss? I have not seen them, nor from any one have I heard a word of the whole business. If you should promise an immense reward I could not tell you more. A stealer of oxen should be both tall and strong, and I am but a little new-born thing who, yet at least, can think of nothing wrong. My business is to suck and sleep and fling the cradle clothes about me all day long; or half asleep, hear my sweet mother sing, and to be washed in water clean and warm, and hushed and kissed and kept secure from harm. Oh, let not this quarrel ever be heard of, for the astounded gods would laugh at you for telling a story so absurd as that a new-born infant could fare forth out of his home after a savage herd. I was born yesterday. My small feet are too tender for the roads so hard and rough, and if you think that this is not enough, I swear a great oath that I stole not your cows, and that I know of no one else who might or could or did. Whatever things cows are I do not know, for I have only heard the name.” This said, he winked as fast as could be, and his brow was all wrinkled, and he gave a loud whistle like one who hears some strange absurdity. Apollo gently smiled and said: “Ay, ay, you cunning little rascal, you will bore many a rich man’s house, and your array of thieves will lay their siege before his door, silent as night, in night, and many a day in the wild glens rough shepherds will deplore that you or yours, having an appetite, met with their cattle. And this among the gods shall be your gift, to be the lord of those who steal and swindle.”
Apollo seized him then. “What do you mean to do with me, you unkind God?” said Hermes. “Is it about these cows you tease me so? I wish the race of cows were perished. I did not steal your cows, I do not even know what things cows are. Alas! I well may sigh that since I came into this world of woe I should ever have heard of one.” Thus Phœbus and the vagrant Hermes talked without coming to an explanation. Hermes continued to try and cheat Apollo with lies and roguery, but when no evasion served, he proposed to appeal to Jove to judge between them. Hermes paced first over the sandy ground and he of the silver bow followed, and from Jove’s equal balance they did require a judgment in the cause wherein they strove. As they came over odorous Olympus and its snows a murmuring tumult arose. And from the folded depths of the great hill, while Hermes and Apollo reverent stood before Jove’s throne, the indestructible immortals rushed in mighty multitude, and while their seats in order due they filled the lofty Thunderer in a careless mood to Phœbus said: “Whence drive you this sweet prey, this herald-baby, born but yesterday? A most important subject, trifler, this to lay before the Gods!” “Nay, father, nay. When you have understood the business, say not that I alone am fond of prey. I found this little boy in a recess in Cyllene’s mountains far away—a manifest and most apparent thief, a scandal-monger beyond all belief. I never saw his like either in heaven or earth for knavery or craft. Out of the field yester-even, by the low shore on which the loud sea laughed, he had driven my cattle right down to the river ford. The cattle’s track on the black dust is fully evident, as if they went toward the place from which they came—that asphodel meadow in which I feed my many herds. The child’s steps were most incomprehensible. I know not how I can describe in words those tracks. He could not have gone either upon his feet or his hands. He must have had some strange mode of moving on. Those immense vestiges, as I traced them on the sandy road, seemed like the trail of oak toppings, but thence the hard ground gave no mark or track denoting where they trod; but, working at his fence an old man saw him as he passed to Pylos with the cows in fiery haste. I found that in the dark he had quietly sacrificed some cows, and before light had thrown the ashes all dispersedly about the road; then, still as gloomy night, he crept into his cradle, rubbing either eye and cogitating some new trick. No eagle could have seen him as he lay hid in his cavern. I taxed him with the fact, when he declared most solemnly that he had neither seen nor in any manner heard of my lost cows, whatever things cows be; nor could he tell, though offered a reward of any one who could tell me about them.”
Then Phœbus sat down and Hermes addressed the Supreme Lord of Gods and Men. “Great Father, you know well beforehand that all I shall say is truth, for I am totally unacquainted with untruth. At sunrise Phœbus came, but with no band of gods to bear him witness, in great wrath to my abode, seeking his heifers there and declaring that I must show him where they are or he would hurl me down the dark abyss. I know that every limb of Apollo is clothed with speed and might and manliness, as a green bank with flowers, but unlike him I was born yesterday, and you may guess he knew this well when he indulged the whim of bullying a poor little new-born thing that slept and never thought of cow-driving. Am I like a strong fellow who steals kine? This driving of herds is none of mine. I have never wandered across my threshold! I reverence the divine Sun and the gods and you, and care even for this hard accuser, who must know I am as innocent as they or you. I swear by these most gloriously wrought portals through which the multitude of the Immortals pass and repass forever, day and night, devising schemes for the affairs of mortals, that I am guiltless,” and Hermes winked as if now his adversary was silenced, and Jove, according to his wont, laughed heartily to hear the subtle-witted infant give such a plausible account. But he remitted judgment for the time and sent them forth to seek the stolen cows. Hermes was truthfully to lead the way and show where he had hidden the mighty heifers.
Then they hastened to Pylos and the wide pastures and lofty stalls by the Alphean ford, where wealth in the mute night is multiplied with silent growth. While Hermes drove the herd out of the stony cavern, Phœbus spied the hides of those the little babe had slain, stretched high upon the precipice. “How was it possible,” then Phœbus asked, “that you, a little child born yesterday, a thing on mother’s milk and kisses fed, could have slain these two prodigious heifers? Ever I may well dread hereafter your prowess, when you grow strong and tall.” He spoke, and bound stiff withy bands around the infant’s wrists. He might as well have bound the wild oxen. The withy bands, though starkly interknit, fell at the feet of the immortal child, loosened by some device of his quick wit. Phœbus was again deceived, and stared while Hermes sought some hole, looking askance and winking fast, as though where he might hide himself. But suddenly he changed his plans, and with strange skill subdued Apollo by the might of winning music. His left hand held the lyre, and in his right the plectrum struck the chords; unconquerable, up from beneath his hands in circling flight the gathering music rose, and sweet as Love the penetrating notes did live and move within the heart of great Apollo. He listened with all his soul and laughed for pleasure. The unabashed boy stood close to his side harping fearlessly, and to the measure of the sweet lyre there followed loud and free his joyous voice, for he unlocked the treasure of his deep song illustrating the birth of the bright gods and the dark desert Earth, and how to the Immortals every one, a portion was assigned of all that is; but chief did clothe Maia’s son Mnemosyne in the light of his loud melodies, and as each god was born or had begun he in their order due and fit degrees sang of his birth and being, and did move Apollo to unutterable love. These words he spoke: “You heifer-stealing schemer, well do you deserve that fifty oxen should requite such minstrelsies as I have heard even now. Comrade of feasts, little contriving wight, one of your secrets I would gladly know—whether the glorious power you now show forth was folded up within you at your birth, or whether mortal taught or God inspired your skill in song?” And Hermes replied: “Wisely hast thou enquired of my skill. Jove has given to thee also divinest gifts. By thee the depths of his far voice are understood, by thee the mystery of all oracular fates. Even I, a child, perceive thy might and majesty. Thou canst seek out and compass all that wit can find or teach, yet if thou wilt, come take the lyre—be mine the glory giving it. Strike the sweet chords and sing aloud, and wake thy joyous pleasure out of many a fit of tranced sound.” The shell he proffered Apollo took, and gave him in return the glittering lash, installing him as herdsman. Hermes flashed a joyous look at him, and then Apollo with the plectrum struck the chords, and from beneath his hands a crash of mighty sounds rushed up whose music shook the soul with sweetness, and with the lyre his sweeter voice a just accordance kept.
FOOTNOTES
[1] See Schoolcraft.
[2] Leland, “Algonquin Legends.”
[3] See Gubernatis “Zoological Mythology.”
[4] Andrew Lang’s translation.