Zeus
(Iliad 22.209-13)
But when they ran past those springs
the fourth time, Father Zeus raised his golden scales,
setting there two fatal lots for death’s long sorrow,
one for Achilles, one for horse-taming Hector.
Seizing it in the middle, Zeus raised his balance.
Hector’s fatal day sank, moving down to Hades.
the fourth time, Father Zeus raised his golden scales,
setting there two fatal lots for death’s long sorrow,
one for Achilles, one for horse-taming Hector.
Seizing it in the middle, Zeus raised his balance.
Hector’s fatal day sank, moving down to Hades.
Poseidon
(Iliad 13.16-61)
But mighty Earthshaker Poseidon was keeping watch.
High on the tallest crest of wooded Samothrace
he sat looking down upon the war going on.
From that point, Mount Ida was clearly visible,
Priam’s city, too, and the Achaean ships.
He’d come up from the sea and seated himself there,
pitying Achaeans, as Trojans beat them back, and nursing a powerful anger against Zeus.
Poseidon came down quickly from that rocky peak,
moving swiftly on his feet.
Mountain peaks and woods trembled under Poseidon’s immortal stride.
He took three paces—with the fourth he reached his goal, Aegae,
where his famous palace had been built of eternal gold and marble deep within the sea.
Going inside, he harnessed to his chariot swift bronze-hooved horses with flowing golden manes.
Dressed in gold, he took his well-made golden whip, climbed in the chariot, then set off across the waves.
From the depths, sea creatures played around him everywhere, acknowledging their king. The joyful ocean parted. He sped on quickly, keeping the bronze axle dry.
The prancing horses carried him to the Achaean ships.
Half-way between Tenedos and rocky Imbros, a wide cavern sits deep within the sea.
In that spot, Earthshaker Poseidon reined in his horses, freed them from the chariot, and threw down ambrosia, food for them to eat.
Around their feet he placed golden hobbles which they could not slip or break,
so they’d remain secure there till their lord’s return.
Then Poseidon moved on to the Achaean camp.
At that point, Trojans, like some fire or windstorm, marched behind Hector, son of Priam, in a mass, shouting and screaming with excitement,
hoping to seize Achaean ships and kill the best men there.
But Poseidon, who encircles and shakes the earth, roused the Argives, once he’d moved up from the sea.
Taking on the shape and tireless voice of Calchas,
he first spoke to the Ajaxes, both keen to fight.
"You Ajaxes, you must save Achaean troops.
Think of your fighting power, not cold flight.
In other places, I don’t fear the Trojans,
whose powerful arms have brought hordes of them
across our wall. For well-armed Achaeans
will check them all. But I fear them here,
where we may experience disaster,
because of Hector, who leads their charge.
He’s like a man possessed, a blazing fire,
as if he were a son of mighty Zeus.
But perhaps some god will inspire the hearts in both your chests, so you two can stand firm.
You could get other men to do the same.
Hector may be keen, but you could push him back from our swift ships, even if Zeus himself
is driving him ahead.”
Poseidon finished speaking.
Then, the shaker and encircler of the earth touched both men with his staff,
infusing them with power, strengthening their legs and upper arms.
Then Poseidon left.
High on the tallest crest of wooded Samothrace
he sat looking down upon the war going on.
From that point, Mount Ida was clearly visible,
Priam’s city, too, and the Achaean ships.
He’d come up from the sea and seated himself there,
pitying Achaeans, as Trojans beat them back, and nursing a powerful anger against Zeus.
Poseidon came down quickly from that rocky peak,
moving swiftly on his feet.
Mountain peaks and woods trembled under Poseidon’s immortal stride.
He took three paces—with the fourth he reached his goal, Aegae,
where his famous palace had been built of eternal gold and marble deep within the sea.
Going inside, he harnessed to his chariot swift bronze-hooved horses with flowing golden manes.
Dressed in gold, he took his well-made golden whip, climbed in the chariot, then set off across the waves.
From the depths, sea creatures played around him everywhere, acknowledging their king. The joyful ocean parted. He sped on quickly, keeping the bronze axle dry.
The prancing horses carried him to the Achaean ships.
Half-way between Tenedos and rocky Imbros, a wide cavern sits deep within the sea.
In that spot, Earthshaker Poseidon reined in his horses, freed them from the chariot, and threw down ambrosia, food for them to eat.
Around their feet he placed golden hobbles which they could not slip or break,
so they’d remain secure there till their lord’s return.
Then Poseidon moved on to the Achaean camp.
At that point, Trojans, like some fire or windstorm, marched behind Hector, son of Priam, in a mass, shouting and screaming with excitement,
hoping to seize Achaean ships and kill the best men there.
But Poseidon, who encircles and shakes the earth, roused the Argives, once he’d moved up from the sea.
Taking on the shape and tireless voice of Calchas,
he first spoke to the Ajaxes, both keen to fight.
"You Ajaxes, you must save Achaean troops.
Think of your fighting power, not cold flight.
In other places, I don’t fear the Trojans,
whose powerful arms have brought hordes of them
across our wall. For well-armed Achaeans
will check them all. But I fear them here,
where we may experience disaster,
because of Hector, who leads their charge.
He’s like a man possessed, a blazing fire,
as if he were a son of mighty Zeus.
But perhaps some god will inspire the hearts in both your chests, so you two can stand firm.
You could get other men to do the same.
Hector may be keen, but you could push him back from our swift ships, even if Zeus himself
is driving him ahead.”
Poseidon finished speaking.
Then, the shaker and encircler of the earth touched both men with his staff,
infusing them with power, strengthening their legs and upper arms.
Then Poseidon left.
Hephaistos
(Iliad 1.571-600)
Then that famous artisan, Hephaestus, concerned
about his mother, white-armed Hera, spoke to them:
about his mother, white-armed Hera, spoke to them:
“A troublesome matter this will prove—
unendurable—if you two start fighting
over mortal men like this, inciting gods to quarrel. .
If we start bickering, we can’t enjoy the meal,
our excellent banquet. So I’m urging mother,
though she’s more than willing, to humour Zeus,
our dear father, so he won’t get angry once again,
disturb the feast for us. For if Zeus,
the Olympian lord of lightning, was of a mind
to hurl us from our seats, his strength’s too great.
But if you talk to him with soothing words,
at once Olympian Zeus will treat us well.”
unendurable—if you two start fighting
over mortal men like this, inciting gods to quarrel. .
If we start bickering, we can’t enjoy the meal,
our excellent banquet. So I’m urging mother,
though she’s more than willing, to humour Zeus,
our dear father, so he won’t get angry once again,
disturb the feast for us. For if Zeus,
the Olympian lord of lightning, was of a mind
to hurl us from our seats, his strength’s too great.
But if you talk to him with soothing words,
at once Olympian Zeus will treat us well.”
Hephaestus spoke, then stood up, passed a double goblet
across to his dear mother, saying:
across to his dear mother, saying:
“Stay calm, mother, even though you are upset.
If not, then, as beloved as you are,
I may see you beaten up before my eyes,
with me incapable of helping out,
though the sight would make me most unhappy.
It’s hard to take a stand opposing Zeus.
Once, when I was eager to assist you,
Zeus seized me by the feet and threw me out,
down from heaven’s heights. The entire day
I fell and then, right at sunset, dropped
on Lemnos, almost dead. After that fall,
men of Sintes helped me to recover.”
If not, then, as beloved as you are,
I may see you beaten up before my eyes,
with me incapable of helping out,
though the sight would make me most unhappy.
It’s hard to take a stand opposing Zeus.
Once, when I was eager to assist you,
Zeus seized me by the feet and threw me out,
down from heaven’s heights. The entire day
I fell and then, right at sunset, dropped
on Lemnos, almost dead. After that fall,
men of Sintes helped me to recover.”
As he spoke, the white-armed goddess Hera smiled.
She reached for her son’s goblet. He poured the drink,
going from right to left, for all the other gods,
drawing off sweet nectar from the mixing bowl.
Then their laughter broke out irrepressibly,
as the sacred gods saw Hephaestus bustling around,
concerned about the feast
She reached for her son’s goblet. He poured the drink,
going from right to left, for all the other gods,
drawing off sweet nectar from the mixing bowl.
Then their laughter broke out irrepressibly,
as the sacred gods saw Hephaestus bustling around,
concerned about the feast
Ares
Iliad(5.846-909)
First, Athena led the sure-footed horses against Ares.
He was removing armour from huge Periphas,
Ochesius’ fine son, by far the best of the Aetolians.
Blood-stained Ares was stripping him of all his weapons.
Then Athena put Hades’ helmet on her head,
so she was invisible to mighty Ares.
But man-killing Ares did see Diomedes.
He let the body of huge Periphas lie there,
where he’d first killed him and ripped out his spirit.
He strode straight up to horse-taming Diomedes.
When the two came to close quarters and faced each other,
Ares thrust his bronze spear first, over the yoke
and horses’ reins, eager to take Diomedes’ life.
Athena, bright-eyed goddess, hands gripping the reins,
shoved the spear aside, so its thrust was harmless,
above the chariot. Diomedes, skilled in war cries,
then made the second thrust with his bronze spear.
Pallas Athena guided the weapon right to Ares’ gut,
the lower part where his waist band went around him.
Diomedes wounded Ares, piercing his fair skin,
then pulled back on his spear. Brazen Ares roared
as loud as the screams of nine or ten thousand men
when they clash in war. Fear seized Achaeans—Trojans, too.
They shuddered. That’s how strong that cry sounded
as it came from Ares, insatiable for war.
Just as a dark mist moves upward from the clouds,
when in hot weather a strong wind arises,
so brazen Ares looked to Tydeus’ son, Diomedes,
as the god at once soared up into the clouds
ascending to wide heaven. Ares, in a rush,
went to the gods’ home, steep Olympus, sat by Zeus,
distressed at heart. He showed Zeus where he’d been wounded,dripping with immortal blood, then made his complaint.
His words had wings.
He was removing armour from huge Periphas,
Ochesius’ fine son, by far the best of the Aetolians.
Blood-stained Ares was stripping him of all his weapons.
Then Athena put Hades’ helmet on her head,
so she was invisible to mighty Ares.
But man-killing Ares did see Diomedes.
He let the body of huge Periphas lie there,
where he’d first killed him and ripped out his spirit.
He strode straight up to horse-taming Diomedes.
When the two came to close quarters and faced each other,
Ares thrust his bronze spear first, over the yoke
and horses’ reins, eager to take Diomedes’ life.
Athena, bright-eyed goddess, hands gripping the reins,
shoved the spear aside, so its thrust was harmless,
above the chariot. Diomedes, skilled in war cries,
then made the second thrust with his bronze spear.
Pallas Athena guided the weapon right to Ares’ gut,
the lower part where his waist band went around him.
Diomedes wounded Ares, piercing his fair skin,
then pulled back on his spear. Brazen Ares roared
as loud as the screams of nine or ten thousand men
when they clash in war. Fear seized Achaeans—Trojans, too.
They shuddered. That’s how strong that cry sounded
as it came from Ares, insatiable for war.
Just as a dark mist moves upward from the clouds,
when in hot weather a strong wind arises,
so brazen Ares looked to Tydeus’ son, Diomedes,
as the god at once soared up into the clouds
ascending to wide heaven. Ares, in a rush,
went to the gods’ home, steep Olympus, sat by Zeus,
distressed at heart. He showed Zeus where he’d been wounded,dripping with immortal blood, then made his complaint.
His words had wings.
“Father Zeus,
aren’t you incensed at this barbarity?
We gods are always suffering dreadfully
at each other’s hands, when we bring men help.
We all lay the blame for this on you. For you gave birth to that insane young girl,
your destructive daughter, always busy
with some nastiness. All the other gods,
all those on Mount Olympus, do what you say.
And each of us is subject to your will.
But you never punish her in word or deed.
You do nothing, because you gave birth to her
yourself, to Athena, your vicious daughter.*
Just now she urged proud Diomedes,
son of Tydeus, to charge insanely
against deathless gods. First he attacked
Aphrodite and struck her on the wrist.
Then he charged me, even me, like a god.
But my quick feet took me away. If not,
I’d be in lasting pain with the fearful dead,
or have barely lived, wounded by bronze spears.”
aren’t you incensed at this barbarity?
We gods are always suffering dreadfully
at each other’s hands, when we bring men help.
We all lay the blame for this on you. For you gave birth to that insane young girl,
your destructive daughter, always busy
with some nastiness. All the other gods,
all those on Mount Olympus, do what you say.
And each of us is subject to your will.
But you never punish her in word or deed.
You do nothing, because you gave birth to her
yourself, to Athena, your vicious daughter.*
Just now she urged proud Diomedes,
son of Tydeus, to charge insanely
against deathless gods. First he attacked
Aphrodite and struck her on the wrist.
Then he charged me, even me, like a god.
But my quick feet took me away. If not,
I’d be in lasting pain with the fearful dead,
or have barely lived, wounded by bronze spears.”
Apollo
Iliad (1.43-52)
So Chryses prayed. Phoebus Apollo heard him.
He came down from Olympus top enraged,
carrying on his shoulders bow and covered quiver,
his arrows rattling in anger against his arm.
So the god swooped down, descending like the night.
He sat some distance from the ships, shot off an arrow—
the silver bow reverberating ominously.
He came down from Olympus top enraged,
carrying on his shoulders bow and covered quiver,
his arrows rattling in anger against his arm.
So the god swooped down, descending like the night.
He sat some distance from the ships, shot off an arrow—
the silver bow reverberating ominously.
First, the god massacred mules and swift-running dogs,
then loosed sharp arrows in among the troops themselves.
Thick fires burned the corpses ceaselessly.
then loosed sharp arrows in among the troops themselves.
Thick fires burned the corpses ceaselessly.
For nine days Apollo rained death down upon the troops.
On the tenth, Achilles summoned an assembly.
White-armed Hera put that thought into his mind,
concerned for the Danaans, seeing them die.
On the tenth, Achilles summoned an assembly.
White-armed Hera put that thought into his mind,
concerned for the Danaans, seeing them die.
Hermes
See Hermes hymns
Odyssey (10.275-308)
I met
Hermes of the Golden Wand. I was going
toward the house. He looked like a young man
when the first growth of hair is on his lip,
the age when youthful charm is at its height.
He gripped my hand, spoke to me, and said: [280]
Hermes of the Golden Wand. I was going
toward the house. He looked like a young man
when the first growth of hair is on his lip,
the age when youthful charm is at its height.
He gripped my hand, spoke to me, and said: [280]
'Where are you off to now, you poor man,
going through these hills all by yourself
and knowing nothing of the country here?
Your comrades, over there in Circe's house,
are penned up like swine in narrow stalls.
Are you intending now to set them free?
I don't think you'll make it back yourself—
you'll stay there with the rest of them. But come,
I'll keep you free from harm and save you.
Here, take a remedial potion with you.
Go in Circe's house. It's a protection
and will clear your head of any dangers
this day brings. Now I'll describe for you
each and every one of Circe's fatal ploys.
She'll mix a drink for you and with the food
include a drug. But she won't have power
to cast a spell on you. This fine potion,
which I'll provide you, won't allow it.
I'll tell you now in detail. When Circe
strikes you with her elongated wand,
then draw that sharp sword on your thigh and charge,
just as if you meant to slaughter her.
She'll be afraid. And then she'll order you
to sleep with her. At that point don't refuse
to share a goddess' bed, if you want her
to free your crew and entertain you.
But tell her she must swear a solemn oath,
on all the blessed gods, not to make plans
to harm you with some other injury,
so when she's got you with your clothes off,
she won't change you to an unmanned weakling.'
going through these hills all by yourself
and knowing nothing of the country here?
Your comrades, over there in Circe's house,
are penned up like swine in narrow stalls.
Are you intending now to set them free?
I don't think you'll make it back yourself—
you'll stay there with the rest of them. But come,
I'll keep you free from harm and save you.
Here, take a remedial potion with you.
Go in Circe's house. It's a protection
and will clear your head of any dangers
this day brings. Now I'll describe for you
each and every one of Circe's fatal ploys.
She'll mix a drink for you and with the food
include a drug. But she won't have power
to cast a spell on you. This fine potion,
which I'll provide you, won't allow it.
I'll tell you now in detail. When Circe
strikes you with her elongated wand,
then draw that sharp sword on your thigh and charge,
just as if you meant to slaughter her.
She'll be afraid. And then she'll order you
to sleep with her. At that point don't refuse
to share a goddess' bed, if you want her
to free your crew and entertain you.
But tell her she must swear a solemn oath,
on all the blessed gods, not to make plans
to harm you with some other injury,
so when she's got you with your clothes off,
she won't change you to an unmanned weakling.'
"After saying this, the Killer of Argus
pulled a herb out of the ground, gave it to me,
and explained its features. Its roots were black,
the flower milk-white. Moly the gods call it.
It's hard for mortal men to pull it out,
but gods have power to do anything.
Then Hermes left, through the wooded island,
bound for high Olympus.
pulled a herb out of the ground, gave it to me,
and explained its features. Its roots were black,
the flower milk-white. Moly the gods call it.
It's hard for mortal men to pull it out,
but gods have power to do anything.
Then Hermes left, through the wooded island,
bound for high Olympus.
Dionysos
Little is written about Dionysos so it is believed that he was worshiped later and so wasn’t placed in the original 12 gods of Olympus
Hera
Iliad (14.153-353)
As this was happening, on a peak of Mount Olympus
Hera of the golden throne was standing watching.
She recognized her brother-in-law at once,
as he kept busy in the war where men win glory,
for he was her brother and her husband’s, too. Hera’s heart was pleased. She looked across at Zeus,
sitting on the highest peak on top of Ida,
with its many fountains. Hatred filled her heart.
So ox-eyed queen Hera then began considering
how she might deceive the mind of aegis-bearing Zeus.
In her heart the best course of action seemed to be
to make herself look most attractive, go to Ida,
then see if Zeus would want to lie down with her,
embrace her, and make love. Then she could pour out
on his eyelids and his crafty mind a deep warm sleep.
She went off to her bedroom, which Hephaestus,
her dear son, had made for her, with close-fitting doors
set against their posts, secured with a secret lock,
which no other god could open. She went in there,
then closed the shining doors. First, with ambrosia
she washed from her lovely body all the stains,
then rubbed her skin with fragrant oil, divinely sweet,
made specially for her. If this perfume were merely stirred
inside Zeus’ bronze-floored house, its scent would then diffuse
throughout heaven and earth. She used this perfume
all over her fair body, then arranged her hair.
With her own hands she combed her shining locks in braids,
a stunning style for an immortal goddess.
Then she wrapped around herself a heavenly robe,
which Athena made for her from silky fabric,
adorning it with gorgeous embroidery.
She pinned the robe around her breast with golden brooches.
On her waist she put a belt with a hundred tassels.
Hera then fixed earrings in her pierced ear lobes,
each with three gemstones, an enchanting glitter.
Next the queen of goddesses placed on her head
a fine new dazzling shawl, white as the sun.
She then slipped lovely sandals over her sleek feet.
Hera of the golden throne was standing watching.
She recognized her brother-in-law at once,
as he kept busy in the war where men win glory,
for he was her brother and her husband’s, too. Hera’s heart was pleased. She looked across at Zeus,
sitting on the highest peak on top of Ida,
with its many fountains. Hatred filled her heart.
So ox-eyed queen Hera then began considering
how she might deceive the mind of aegis-bearing Zeus.
In her heart the best course of action seemed to be
to make herself look most attractive, go to Ida,
then see if Zeus would want to lie down with her,
embrace her, and make love. Then she could pour out
on his eyelids and his crafty mind a deep warm sleep.
She went off to her bedroom, which Hephaestus,
her dear son, had made for her, with close-fitting doors
set against their posts, secured with a secret lock,
which no other god could open. She went in there,
then closed the shining doors. First, with ambrosia
she washed from her lovely body all the stains,
then rubbed her skin with fragrant oil, divinely sweet,
made specially for her. If this perfume were merely stirred
inside Zeus’ bronze-floored house, its scent would then diffuse
throughout heaven and earth. She used this perfume
all over her fair body, then arranged her hair.
With her own hands she combed her shining locks in braids,
a stunning style for an immortal goddess.
Then she wrapped around herself a heavenly robe,
which Athena made for her from silky fabric,
adorning it with gorgeous embroidery.
She pinned the robe around her breast with golden brooches.
On her waist she put a belt with a hundred tassels.
Hera then fixed earrings in her pierced ear lobes,
each with three gemstones, an enchanting glitter.
Next the queen of goddesses placed on her head
a fine new dazzling shawl, white as the sun.
She then slipped lovely sandals over her sleek feet.
Once Hera had dressed her body in this finery,
she left the room and summoned Aphrodite.
Some distance from the other gods, she said to her:
she left the room and summoned Aphrodite.
Some distance from the other gods, she said to her:
“My dear child, will you agree to do
what I ask of you, or will you refuse,
because you’re angry with me in your heart,
since I help Danaans and you aid the Trojans?”
what I ask of you, or will you refuse,
because you’re angry with me in your heart,
since I help Danaans and you aid the Trojans?”
Zeus’ daughter Aphrodite answered her:
honoured goddess, daughter of great Cronos,
say what’s on your mind. My heart tells me
I should do what you ask, if I can,
if it’s something that can be carried out.”
honoured goddess, daughter of great Cronos,
say what’s on your mind. My heart tells me
I should do what you ask, if I can,
if it’s something that can be carried out.”
Then queen Hera, with her devious mind, replied:
“Then give me Love and Sexual Desire,
which you use to master all immortals,
and mortal men as well. I’m going to visit
the limits of this all-nourishing earth,
to see Oceanus, from whom the gods arose,
and mother Tethys, the two who reared me,
taking good care of me inside their home,
once they got me from Rhea, that time Zeus,
who sees far and wide, forced Cronos
underground, under the restless seas.
I’m going to visit them. And I’ll resolve
their endless quarrel. For a long time now,
they’ve stayed apart from one another,
not sharing love there in the marriage bed,
since anger fills their hearts. If my words
could reconcile the hearts in these two gods,
bring them to bed again, once more in love,
they’d think of me with loving reverence.”
which you use to master all immortals,
and mortal men as well. I’m going to visit
the limits of this all-nourishing earth,
to see Oceanus, from whom the gods arose,
and mother Tethys, the two who reared me,
taking good care of me inside their home,
once they got me from Rhea, that time Zeus,
who sees far and wide, forced Cronos
underground, under the restless seas.
I’m going to visit them. And I’ll resolve
their endless quarrel. For a long time now,
they’ve stayed apart from one another,
not sharing love there in the marriage bed,
since anger fills their hearts. If my words
could reconcile the hearts in these two gods,
bring them to bed again, once more in love,
they’d think of me with loving reverence.”
Laughter-loving Aphrodite answered Hera:
“It wouldn’t be appropriate for me
to say no to your demand, since you sleep
in the arms of Zeus, the greatest of the gods.”
to say no to your demand, since you sleep
in the arms of Zeus, the greatest of the gods.”
Aphrodite spoke, then loosened from her breasts
the finely decorated, embroidered garment
in which all her magic charms were fixed—for love,
erotic lust, flirtation, and seduction,
which steals the wits even of clear-thinking men.
Aphrodite put this in Hera’s hands, then said:
the finely decorated, embroidered garment
in which all her magic charms were fixed—for love,
erotic lust, flirtation, and seduction,
which steals the wits even of clear-thinking men.
Aphrodite put this in Hera’s hands, then said:
“Take this garment. Tie it round your breasts.
Everything is interwoven in the cloth.
I don’t think you’ll come back unsuccessful
in getting what it is your heart desires.”
Everything is interwoven in the cloth.
I don’t think you’ll come back unsuccessful
in getting what it is your heart desires.”
Aphrodite finished. Ox-eyed queen Hera smiled,
and, as she did so, put the garment round her breasts.
Then Aphrodite, Zeus’ daughter, went back home.
and, as she did so, put the garment round her breasts.
Then Aphrodite, Zeus’ daughter, went back home.
Hera sped off, leaving the crest of Mount Olympus.
She touched down on Pieria, lovely Emathia,
rushed by the highest mountains of Thracian horsemen—
her feet did not touch ground on those snow-covered peaks.
From Athos she went across the heaving sea,
coming to Lemnos, city of godlike Thoas.
There she met Sleep, Death’s brother. Clasping his hand,
she spoke to him:
She touched down on Pieria, lovely Emathia,
rushed by the highest mountains of Thracian horsemen—
her feet did not touch ground on those snow-covered peaks.
From Athos she went across the heaving sea,
coming to Lemnos, city of godlike Thoas.
There she met Sleep, Death’s brother. Clasping his hand,
she spoke to him:
“Sleep, king of all men and gods,
if you’ve ever listened to what I say,
obey me now. I’ll be grateful always.
Lull Zeus’ radiant eyes to sleep for me,
when I’m stretched out for sex beside him.
I’ll give you as a gift a lovely throne,
indestructible gold which my own son
Hephaestus with his ambidextrous skills
will make for you. Under it he’ll set a stool,
so you can rest your feet when drinking wine.”
if you’ve ever listened to what I say,
obey me now. I’ll be grateful always.
Lull Zeus’ radiant eyes to sleep for me,
when I’m stretched out for sex beside him.
I’ll give you as a gift a lovely throne,
indestructible gold which my own son
Hephaestus with his ambidextrous skills
will make for you. Under it he’ll set a stool,
so you can rest your feet when drinking wine.”
Sweet Sleep then said in reply:
“Honoured goddess Hera,
daughter of mighty Cronos, I could with ease
bring some other immortal one to sleep,
even the streams of river Ocean,
the source of all of them. But I won’t come
near Zeus, lull him to sleep, unless he bids me,
asks in person. Your request some time ago
taught me my lesson, on that very day
when Hercules, son of almighty Zeus,
set sail from Ilion, after he’d sacked
the Trojans’ city. That’s when I seduced
the mind of aegis-bearing Zeus, pouring
my sweetness over him. You then carried
evil in your heart for Hercules, driving
blasts of hostile winds across the sea,
taking him at last to well-settled Cos,
far from all his friends. When Zeus woke up,
he was incensed, throwing gods around his house,
looking, above all, for me. He’d have tossed me
from heaven into the sea, if Night,
who subdues gods and men, had not saved me.
I ran away to her, and Zeus held back,
though still enraged, not wishing to offend
swift Night. Now here you are again, asking me
to do something I simply must not do.”
daughter of mighty Cronos, I could with ease
bring some other immortal one to sleep,
even the streams of river Ocean,
the source of all of them. But I won’t come
near Zeus, lull him to sleep, unless he bids me,
asks in person. Your request some time ago
taught me my lesson, on that very day
when Hercules, son of almighty Zeus,
set sail from Ilion, after he’d sacked
the Trojans’ city. That’s when I seduced
the mind of aegis-bearing Zeus, pouring
my sweetness over him. You then carried
evil in your heart for Hercules, driving
blasts of hostile winds across the sea,
taking him at last to well-settled Cos,
far from all his friends. When Zeus woke up,
he was incensed, throwing gods around his house,
looking, above all, for me. He’d have tossed me
from heaven into the sea, if Night,
who subdues gods and men, had not saved me.
I ran away to her, and Zeus held back,
though still enraged, not wishing to offend
swift Night. Now here you are again, asking me
to do something I simply must not do.”
Ox-eyed queen Hera then answered him:
“Sleep,
why concern your heart about these matters?
Do you think all-seeing Zeus feels for Trojans
the same rage he felt then for Hercules,
his own son? But come, I’ll give you as your wife
one of the younger Graces. You can marry
Pasithea, whom you long for every day.”
why concern your heart about these matters?
Do you think all-seeing Zeus feels for Trojans
the same rage he felt then for Hercules,
his own son? But come, I’ll give you as your wife
one of the younger Graces. You can marry
Pasithea, whom you long for every day.”
Hera finished. Sleep was overjoyed and said:
“All right, then. Swear to me by waters
of the inviolable river Styx, setting
one hand on the all-nourishing earth,
the other on the shimmering sea,
so all may witness our agreement,
even those gods underground with Cronos,
that you will give me one of the Graces,
Pasithea, whom I long for every day.”
of the inviolable river Styx, setting
one hand on the all-nourishing earth,
the other on the shimmering sea,
so all may witness our agreement,
even those gods underground with Cronos,
that you will give me one of the Graces,
Pasithea, whom I long for every day.”
White-armed goddess Hera agreed to Sleep’s request.
She made the oath, as he had asked, invoking
all the gods under Tartarus, those called the Titans.
Once she’d finished saying the oath, they both set off,
wrapping themselves in mist. They left behind them
the cities of Lemnos and Imbros, moving quickly,
then came to Mount Ida with its many springs,
mother of wild creatures, and arrived at Lectum,
where for the first time they left the sea. They walked
on dry land, shaking treetops underneath their feet.
Sleep then stopped, before Zeus’ eyes could see him,
climbed a high pine tree, at that time the tallest one
growing on Ida. It stretched up through the lower air
right into the sky. Concealed in that tree’s branches,
Sleep perched there, shaped like the clear-voiced mountain bird
which gods call Chalcis, but people name Cymindis. Hera moved quickly on to Ida’s peak, high Gargarus.
Cloud-gatherer Zeus caught sight of her. As he looked,
his wise heart became suffused with sexual desire,
as strong as when they’d first made love together,
lying on a couch without their parents’ knowledge.
Zeus stood up in front of her, called her, and said:
She made the oath, as he had asked, invoking
all the gods under Tartarus, those called the Titans.
Once she’d finished saying the oath, they both set off,
wrapping themselves in mist. They left behind them
the cities of Lemnos and Imbros, moving quickly,
then came to Mount Ida with its many springs,
mother of wild creatures, and arrived at Lectum,
where for the first time they left the sea. They walked
on dry land, shaking treetops underneath their feet.
Sleep then stopped, before Zeus’ eyes could see him,
climbed a high pine tree, at that time the tallest one
growing on Ida. It stretched up through the lower air
right into the sky. Concealed in that tree’s branches,
Sleep perched there, shaped like the clear-voiced mountain bird
which gods call Chalcis, but people name Cymindis. Hera moved quickly on to Ida’s peak, high Gargarus.
Cloud-gatherer Zeus caught sight of her. As he looked,
his wise heart became suffused with sexual desire,
as strong as when they’d first made love together,
lying on a couch without their parents’ knowledge.
Zeus stood up in front of her, called her, and said:
“Hera, what are you looking for, coming
down here from Olympus? Your chariot,
your horses are not here. You should use them.”
down here from Olympus? Your chariot,
your horses are not here. You should use them.”
Queen Hera with her crafty mind then answered Zeus:
“I’m going to visit the outer limits
of this all-nourishing earth, to Oceanus,
from whom gods came, and mother Tethys,
who looked after me in their own home.
They raised me well. I’ll try to mediate
their endless quarrel. For a long time now,
they’ve stayed apart from one another,
not sharing love there in the marriage bed,
since anger fills their hearts. As for my horses,
they’re standing at the foot of Ida,
with its many springs, to carry me
across dry land and sea. I’ve come here now,
down from Mount Olympus, to stop you
from being angry with me afterwards,
if I say nothing about going to visit
deep-flowing Oceanus in his home.”
of this all-nourishing earth, to Oceanus,
from whom gods came, and mother Tethys,
who looked after me in their own home.
They raised me well. I’ll try to mediate
their endless quarrel. For a long time now,
they’ve stayed apart from one another,
not sharing love there in the marriage bed,
since anger fills their hearts. As for my horses,
they’re standing at the foot of Ida,
with its many springs, to carry me
across dry land and sea. I’ve come here now,
down from Mount Olympus, to stop you
from being angry with me afterwards,
if I say nothing about going to visit
deep-flowing Oceanus in his home.”
Cloud-gatherer Zeus then answered:
“Hera,
you can go there later. But why don’t we
lie down and make joyful love together?
I’ve never felt such sexual desire before
for any goddess, for any mortal woman.
It’s flooding through me, overpowering the heart
here in my chest—not even when I lusted for
Ixion’s wife, who bore me Peirithous,
a man as wise as gods, or Danaë,
with her enchanting ankles, daughter
of Acrisius, who gave birth to Perseus,
most illustrious of men, nor the daughter
of famous Phoenix, who bore me Minos
and godlike Rhadamanthus, nor Alcmene,
who gave birth to Hercules in Thebes,
a mighty hearted son, nor Semele,
who bore that joy to mortals Dionysus,
nor fair-haired lady Demeter, nor Leto,
that glorious girl, not even for yourself—
I felt for none of these the love I feel
for you right now—such sweet desire grips me.”
you can go there later. But why don’t we
lie down and make joyful love together?
I’ve never felt such sexual desire before
for any goddess, for any mortal woman.
It’s flooding through me, overpowering the heart
here in my chest—not even when I lusted for
Ixion’s wife, who bore me Peirithous,
a man as wise as gods, or Danaë,
with her enchanting ankles, daughter
of Acrisius, who gave birth to Perseus,
most illustrious of men, nor the daughter
of famous Phoenix, who bore me Minos
and godlike Rhadamanthus, nor Alcmene,
who gave birth to Hercules in Thebes,
a mighty hearted son, nor Semele,
who bore that joy to mortals Dionysus,
nor fair-haired lady Demeter, nor Leto,
that glorious girl, not even for yourself—
I felt for none of these the love I feel
for you right now—such sweet desire grips me.”
Queen Hera with her cunning mind then said in reply:
“Most fearsome son of Cronos, what are you saying? If you now want us to make love lying here,
on Ida’s peaks, where anyone can see,
what if one of the immortal gods observes us,
as we sleep, then goes and tells the other gods?
I could not get up from this bed and go
into your home. That would be scandalous.
But if that’s your wish, if your heart’s set on it,
you have that bedroom your own son Hephaestus
had built for you. It has close-fitting doors
fixed into posts. Let’s go and lie down there,
since you’re so keen for us to go to bed.”
on Ida’s peaks, where anyone can see,
what if one of the immortal gods observes us,
as we sleep, then goes and tells the other gods?
I could not get up from this bed and go
into your home. That would be scandalous.
But if that’s your wish, if your heart’s set on it,
you have that bedroom your own son Hephaestus
had built for you. It has close-fitting doors
fixed into posts. Let’s go and lie down there,
since you’re so keen for us to go to bed.”
Cloud-gatherer Zeus then answered her:
“Hera,
don’t be afraid that any god or man
will glimpse a thing. I’ll cover you up
in a golden cloud. Even sun god Helios
will not see the two of us, and his rays
are the most perceptive spies of all.”
don’t be afraid that any god or man
will glimpse a thing. I’ll cover you up
in a golden cloud. Even sun god Helios
will not see the two of us, and his rays
are the most perceptive spies of all.”
Zeus finished. Then Cronos’ son took his wife in his arms.
Underneath them divine Earth made fresh flowers grow—
dew-covered clover, crocuses, and hyacinths,
lush and soft, to hold the lovers off the ground.
They lay together there covered with a cloud,
a lovely golden mist, from which fell glistening dew.
Then Zeus slumbered peacefully on Mount Gargarus,
overcome with love and sleep, his wife in his embrace
Underneath them divine Earth made fresh flowers grow—
dew-covered clover, crocuses, and hyacinths,
lush and soft, to hold the lovers off the ground.
They lay together there covered with a cloud,
a lovely golden mist, from which fell glistening dew.
Then Zeus slumbered peacefully on Mount Gargarus,
overcome with love and sleep, his wife in his embrace
Demeter
See Hymn to Demeter
Hestia
None mentioned
Artemis
Illiad5.43-58
Idomeneus slaughtered Phaestus, son of Borus,
a Meonian, who’d come from fertile Tarne.
With his long spear, skilful Idomeneus struck him
in his right shoulder, as he climbed in his chariot.
Dreadful darkness came and gathered Phaestus in.
Those attending Idomeneus stripped the armour.
Then with his sharp spear Menelaus, son of Atreus,
killed Scamandrius, son of Strophius, a huntsman.
Artemis herself had taught him how to shoot
every animal raised in the mountain forests.
But archer Artemis was no help to him then,
no more than was his expertise in archery,
at which he’d been pre-eminent in former times.
For fine spearman Menelaus, son of Atreus,
caught him as he ran away in front of him,
hitting him in the back between his shoulder blades,
forcing the spear right through Scamandrius’ chest.
He fell head first. His armour rattled round him
a Meonian, who’d come from fertile Tarne.
With his long spear, skilful Idomeneus struck him
in his right shoulder, as he climbed in his chariot.
Dreadful darkness came and gathered Phaestus in.
Those attending Idomeneus stripped the armour.
Then with his sharp spear Menelaus, son of Atreus,
killed Scamandrius, son of Strophius, a huntsman.
Artemis herself had taught him how to shoot
every animal raised in the mountain forests.
But archer Artemis was no help to him then,
no more than was his expertise in archery,
at which he’d been pre-eminent in former times.
For fine spearman Menelaus, son of Atreus,
caught him as he ran away in front of him,
hitting him in the back between his shoulder blades,
forcing the spear right through Scamandrius’ chest.
He fell head first. His armour rattled round him
Athena
Odyssey (22.297-310)
Then Athena held up her man-destroying aegis
from high up in the roof. The suitors' minds panicked,
and they fled through the hall, like a herd of cattle
when a stinging gadfly goads them to stampede, [300]
in spring season, when the long days come. Just as
the falcons with hooked talons and curved beaks
fly down from mountains, chasing birds and driving them
well below the clouds, as they swoop along the plain, 380
and then pounce and kill them, for there's no defence,
no flying away, while men get pleasure from the chase,
that's how Odysseus and his men pursued the suitors
and struck them down, one by one, throughout the hall.
As they smashed their heads in, dreadful groans arose,
and the whole floor was awash in blood.
from high up in the roof. The suitors' minds panicked,
and they fled through the hall, like a herd of cattle
when a stinging gadfly goads them to stampede, [300]
in spring season, when the long days come. Just as
the falcons with hooked talons and curved beaks
fly down from mountains, chasing birds and driving them
well below the clouds, as they swoop along the plain, 380
and then pounce and kill them, for there's no defence,
no flying away, while men get pleasure from the chase,
that's how Odysseus and his men pursued the suitors
and struck them down, one by one, throughout the hall.
As they smashed their heads in, dreadful groans arose,
and the whole floor was awash in blood.
Aphrodite
But Aphrodite had snatched Paris up—for a god
an easy feat—concealed him in a heavy mist,
and placed him in his own sweetly scented bedroom.
an easy feat—concealed him in a heavy mist,
and placed him in his own sweetly scented bedroom.
Then Aphrodite went to summon Helen.
She found her on the high tower, in a crowd
among the Trojan women. She clutched Helen
by her perfumed dress, twitched it, then addressed her,
in the form of an old woman, a wool carder,
someone who used to live in Lacedaemon,
producing fine wool, a woman Helen really liked.
In this shape, divine Aphrodite spoke to Helen:
She found her on the high tower, in a crowd
among the Trojan women. She clutched Helen
by her perfumed dress, twitched it, then addressed her,
in the form of an old woman, a wool carder,
someone who used to live in Lacedaemon,
producing fine wool, a woman Helen really liked.
In this shape, divine Aphrodite spoke to Helen:
“Alexander is asking you to come back home.
He’s in the bedroom, on the carved-out bed,
his beauty and his garments glistening.
You wouldn’t think he’s just come from some fight.
He looks as if he’s going to a dance,
or if he’s sitting down right after dancing.”
He’s in the bedroom, on the carved-out bed,
his beauty and his garments glistening.
You wouldn’t think he’s just come from some fight.
He looks as if he’s going to a dance,
or if he’s sitting down right after dancing.”
Aphrodite spoke, stirring emotion in Helen’s heart.
Noticing the goddess’ lovely neck, enticing breasts,
her glittering eyes, Helen was astonished.
Noticing the goddess’ lovely neck, enticing breasts,
her glittering eyes, Helen was astonished.
“Goddess, why do you wish to deceive me so?
Are you going to take me still further off,
to some well-populated city somewhere
in Phrygia or beautiful Maeonia,
because you’re in love with some mortal man
and Menelaus has just beaten Paris
and wants to take me, a despised woman,
back home with him? Is that why you’re here,
you and that devious trickery of yours?
Why don’t you go with Paris by yourself,
stop walking around here like a goddess,
stop guiding your feet toward Olympus,
and lead a miserable life with him,
caring for him, until he makes you his wife
or slave. I won’t go to him in there—
that would be shameful, serving him in bed.
Every Trojan woman would revile me afterwards.
Besides, my heart is hurt enough already.”
Are you going to take me still further off,
to some well-populated city somewhere
in Phrygia or beautiful Maeonia,
because you’re in love with some mortal man
and Menelaus has just beaten Paris
and wants to take me, a despised woman,
back home with him? Is that why you’re here,
you and that devious trickery of yours?
Why don’t you go with Paris by yourself,
stop walking around here like a goddess,
stop guiding your feet toward Olympus,
and lead a miserable life with him,
caring for him, until he makes you his wife
or slave. I won’t go to him in there—
that would be shameful, serving him in bed.
Every Trojan woman would revile me afterwards.
Besides, my heart is hurt enough already.”
Divine Aphrodite, angry at Helen, answered her:
“Don’t provoke me, you obstinate girl.
I might lose my temper, abandon you,
and hate you just as much as I have loved you.
I could make Trojans and Danaans hate you, too.
Then you’d suffer death in misery.”
I might lose my temper, abandon you,
and hate you just as much as I have loved you.
I could make Trojans and Danaans hate you, too.
Then you’d suffer death in misery.”
I begin to sing of rich-haired Demeter, awful goddess -- of her and her trim-ankled daughter whom Aidoneus [Hades] rapt away, given to him by all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer. Apart from Demeter, lady of the golden sword and glorious fruits, she was playing with the deep-bosomed daughters of Oceanus and gathering flowers over a soft meadow, roses and crocuses and beautiful violets, irises also and hyacinths and the narcissus which Earth made to grow at the will of Zeus and to please the Host of Many, to be a snare for the bloom-like girl -- a marvellous, radiant flower. It was a thing of awe whether for deathless gods or mortal men to see: from its root grew a hundred blooms and it smelled most sweetly, so that all wide heaven above and the whole earth and the sea's salt swell laughed for joy. And the girl was amazed and reached out with both hands to take the lovely toy; but the wide-pathed earth yawned there in the plain of Nysa, and the lord, Host of Many, with his immortal horses sprang out upon her -- the Son of Cronos, He who has many names.[1]
He caught her up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. Then she cried out shrilly with her voice, calling upon her father, the Son of Cronos, who is most high and excellent. But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave, and the lord Helios, Hyperion's bright son, as she cried to her father, the Son of Cronos. But he was sitting aloof, apart from the gods, in his temple where many pray, and receiving sweet offerings from mortal men. So he, that Son of Cronos, of many names, who is Ruler of Many and Host of Many, was bearing her away by leave of Zeus on his immortal chariot -- his own brother's child and all unwilling.
[Line 33] And so long as she, the goddess, yet beheld earth and starry heaven and the strong-flowing sea where fishes shoal, and the rays of the sun, and still hoped to see her dear mother and the tribes of the eternal gods, so long hope calmed her great heart for all her trouble. . . . and the heights of the mountains and the depths of the sea rang with her immortal voice: and her queenly mother heard her.
Bitter pain seized her heart, and she rent the covering upon her divine hair with her dear hands: her dark cloak she cast down from both her shoulders and sped, like a wild-bird, over the firm land and yielding sea, seeking her child. But no one would tell her the truth, neither god nor mortal man; and of the birds of omen none came with true news for her. Then for nine days queenly Deo wandered over the earth with flaming torches in her hands, so grieved that she never tasted ambrosia and the sweet draught of nectar, nor sprinkled her body with water. But when the tenth enlightening dawn had come, Hecate, with a torch in her hands, met her, and spoke to her and told her news:
"Queenly Demeter, bringer of seasons and giver of good gifts, what god of heaven or what mortal man has rapt away Persephone and pierced with sorrow your dear heart? For I heard her voice, yet saw not with my eyes who it was. But I tell you truly and shortly all I know."
[Line 59] So, then, said Hecate. And the daughter of rich-haired Rhea answered her not, but sped swiftly with her, holding flaming torches in her hands. So they came to Helios, who is watchman of both gods and men, and stood in front of his horses: and the bright goddess enquired of him: "Helios, do you at least regard me, goddess as I am, if ever by word or deed of mine I have cheered your heart and spirit. Through the fruitless air I heard the thrilling cry of my daughter whom I bare, sweet scion of my body and lovely in form, as of one seized violently; though with my eyes I saw nothing. But you -- for with your beams you look down from the bright upper air over all the earth and sea -- tell me truly of my dear child if you have seen her anywhere, what god or mortal man has violently seized her against her will and mine, and so made off."
So said she. And the Son of Hyperion answered her: "Queen Demeter, daughter of rich-haired Rhea, I will tell you the truth; for I greatly reverence and pity you in your grief for your trim-ankled daughter. None other of the deathless gods is to blame, but only cloud-gathering Zeus who gave her to Hades, her father's brother, to be called his buxom wife. And Hades seized her and took her loudly crying in his chariot down to his realm of mist and gloom. Yet, goddess, cease your loud lament and keep not vain anger unrelentingly: Aidoneus, the Ruler of Many, is no unfitting husband among the deathless gods for your child, being our own brother and born of the same stock: also, for honour, he has that third share which he received when division was made at the first and is appointed lord of those among whom he dwells."
So he spake, and called to his horses: and at his chiding they quickly whirled the swift chariot along, like long-winged birds.
[Line 90] But grief yet more terrible and savage came into the heart of Demeter, and thereafter she was so angered with the dark-clouded Son of Cronos that she avoided the gathering of the gods and high Olympus, and went to the towns and rich fields of men, disfiguring her form a long while. And no one of men or deep-bosomed women knew her when they saw her, until she came to the house of wise Celeus who then was lord of fragrant Eleusis. Vexed in her dear heart, she sat near the wayside by the Maiden Well, from which the women of the place were used to draw water, in a shady place over which grew an olive shrub. And she was like an ancient woman who is cut off from childbearing and the gifts of garland-loving Aphrodite, like the nurses of king's children who deal justice, or like the house-keepers in their echoing halls. There the daughters of Celeus, son of Eleusis, saw her, as they coming for easy-drawn water, to carry it in pitchers of bronze to their dear father's house: four were they and like goddesses in the flower of their girlhood, Callidice and Cleisidice and lovely Demo and Callithoe who was the eldest of them all. They knew her not, -- for the gods are not easily discerned by mortals --, but startling near by her spoke winged words:
"Old mother, whence are you of folk born long ago? Why are you gone away from the city and do not draw near the houses? For there in the shady halls are women of just such age as you, and others younger; and they would welcome you both by word and by deed."
[Line 118] Thus they said. And she, that queen among goddesses answered them saying: "Hail, dear children, whosoever you are of woman-kind. I will tell you my story; for it is not unseemly that I should tell you truly what you ask. Doso is my name, for my stately mother gave it me. And now I am come from Crete over the sea's wide back, -- not willingly; but pirates brought me thence by force of strength against my liking. Afterwards they put in with their swift craft to Thoricus, and these the women landed on the shore in full throng and the men likewise, and they began to make ready a meal by the stern-cables of the ship. But my heart craved not pleasant food, and I fled secretly across the dark country and escaped my masters, that they should not take me unpurchased across the sea, there to win a price for me. And so I wandered and am come here: and I know not at all what land this is or what people are in it. But may all those who dwell on Olympus give you husbands and birth of children as parents desire, so you take pity on me, maidens, and show me this clearly that I may learn, dear children, to the house of what man and woman I may go, to work for them cheerfully at such tasks as belong to a woman of my age. Well could I nurse a new born child, holding him in my arms, or keep house, or spread my masters' bed in a recess of the well-built chamber, or teach the women their work."
So said the goddess. And straightway the unwed maiden Callidice, goodliest in form of the daughters of Celeus, answered her and said:
[Line 147] "Mother, what the gods send us, we mortals bear perforce, although we suffer; for they are much stronger than we. But now I will teach you clearly, telling you the names of men who have great power and honour here and are chief among the people, guarding our city's coif of towers by their wisdom and true judgements: there is wise Triptolemus and Dioclus and Polyxeinus and blameless Eumolpus and Dolichus and our own brave father. All these have wives who manage in the house, and no one of them, so soon as she had seen you, would dishonour you and turn you from the house, but they will welcome you; for indeed you are godlike. But if you will, stay here; and we will go to our father's house and tell Metaneira, our deep-bosomed mother, all this matter fully, that she may bid you rather come to our home than search after the houses of others. She has an only son, late-born, who is being nursed in our well-built house, a child of many prayers and welcome: if you could bring him up until he reached the full measure of youth, any one of womankind who should see you would straightway envy you, such gifts would our mother give for his upbringing."
So she spake: and the goddess bowed her head in assent. And they filled their shining vessels with water and carried them off rejoicing. Quickly they came to their father's great house and straightway told their mother according as they had heard and seen. Then she bade them go with all speed and invite the stranger to come for a measureless hire. As hinds or heifers in spring time, when sated with pasture, bound about a meadow, so they, holding up the folds of their lovely garments, darted down the hollow path, and their hair like a crocus flower streamed about their shoulders. And they found the good goddess near the wayside where they had left her before, and led her to the house of their dear father. And she walked behind, distressed in her dear heart, with her head veiled and wearing a dark cloak which waved about the slender feet of the goddess.
[Line 184] Soon they came to the house of heaven-nurtured Celeus and went through the portico to where their queenly mother sat by a pillar of the close-fitted roof, holding her son, a tender scion, in her bosom. And the girls ran to her. But the goddess walked to the threshold: and her head reached the roof and she filled the doorway with a heavenly radiance. Then awe and reverence and pale fear took hold of Metaneira, and she rose up from her couch before Demeter, and bade her be seated. But Demeter, bringer of seasons and giver of perfect gifts, would not sit upon the bright couch, but stayed silent with lovely eyes cast down until careful Iambe placed a jointed seat for her and threw over it a silvery fleece. Then she sat down and held her veil in her hands before her face. A long time she sat upon the stool[2] without speaking because of her sorrow, and greeted no one by word or by sign, but rested, never smiling, and tasting neither food nor drinks because she pined with longing for her deep-bosomed daughter, until careful Iambe -- who pleased her moods in aftertime also -- moved the holy lady with many a quip and jest to smile and laugh and cheer her heart. Then Metaneira filled a cup with sweet wine and offered it to her; but she refused it, for she said it was not lawful for her to drink red wine, but bade them mix meal and water with soft mint and give her to drink. And Metaneira mixed the draught and gave it to the goddess as she bade. So the great queen Deo received it to observe the sacrament.[3]
[Line 212] And of them all, well-girded Metaneira first began to speak: "Hail, lady! For I think you are not meanly but nobly born; truly dignity and grace are conspicuous upon your eyes as in the eyes of kings that deal justice. Yet we mortals bear per-force what the gods send us, though we be grieved; for a yoke is set upon our necks. But now, since you are come here, you shall have what I can bestow: and nurse me this child whom the gods gave me in my old age and beyond my hope, a son much prayed for. If you should bring him up until he reach the full measure of youth, any one of woman-kind that sees you will straightway envy you, so great reward would I give for his upbringing."
Then rich-haired Demeter answered her: "And to you, also, lady, all hail, and may the gods give you good! Gladly will I take the boy to my breast, as you bid me, and will nurse him. Never, I ween, through any heedlessness of his nurse shall witchcraft hurt him nor yet the Undercutter: for I know a charm far stronger than the Woodcutter, and I know an excellent safeguard against woeful witchcraft."[4]
When she had so spoken, she took the child in her fragrant bosom with her divine hands: and his mother was glad in her heart. So the goddess nursed in the palace Demophoon, wise Celeus' goodly son whom well-girded Metaneira bare. And the child grew like some immortal being, not fed with food nor nourished at the breast: for by day rich-crowned Demeter would anoint him with ambrosia as if he were the offspring of a god and breathe sweetly upon him as she held him in her bosom. But at night she would hide him like a brand in the heart of the fire, unknown to his dear parents. And it wrought great wonder in these that he grew beyond his age; for he was like the gods face to face. And she would have made him deathless and unaging, had not well-girded Metaneira in her heedlessness kept watch by night from her sweet-smelling chamber and spied. But she wailed and smote her two hips, because she feared for her son and was greatly distraught in her heart; so she lamented and uttered winged words:
[Line 248] "Demophoon, my son, the strange woman buries you deep in fire and works grief and bitter sorrow for me."
Thus she spoke, mourning. And the bright goddess, lovely-crowned Demeter, heard her, and was wroth with her. So with her divine hands she snatched from the fire the dear son whom Metaneira had born unhoped-for in the palace, and cast him from her to the ground; for she was terribly angry in her heart. Forthwith she said to well-girded Metaneira:
"Witless are you mortals and dull to foresee your lot, whether of good or evil, that comes upon you. For now in your heedlessness you have wrought folly past healing; for -- be witness the oath of the gods, the relentless water of Styx -- I would have made your dear son deathless and unaging all his days and would have bestowed on him ever-lasting honour, but now he can in no way escape death and the fates. Yet shall unfailing honour always rest upon him, because he lay upon my knees and slept in my arms. But, as the years move round and when he is in his prime, the sons of the Eleusinians shall ever wage war and dread strife with one another continually. Lo! I am that Demeter who has share of honour and is the greatest help and cause of joy to the undying gods and mortal men. But now, let all the people build me a great temple and an altar below it and beneath the city and its sheer wall upon a rising hillock above Callichorus. And I myself will teach my rites, that hereafter you may reverently perform them and so win the favour of my heart."
[Line 275] When she had so said, the goddess changed her stature and her looks, thrusting old age away from her: beauty spread round about her and a lovely fragrance was wafted from her sweet-smelling robes, and from the divine body of the goddess a light shone afar, while golden tresses spread down over her shoulders, so that the strong house was filled with brightness as with lightning. And so she went out from the palace.
And straightway Metaneira's knees were loosed and she remained speechless for a long while and did not remember to take up her late-born son from the ground. But his sisters heard his pitiful wailing and sprang down from their well-spread beds: one of them took up the child in her arms and laid him in her bosom, while another revived the fire, and a third rushed with soft feet to bring their mother from her fragrant chamber. And they gathered about the struggling child and washed him, embracing him lovingly; but he was not comforted, because nurses and handmaids much less skillful were holding him now.
All night long they sought to appease the glorious goddess, quaking with fear. But, as soon as dawn began to show, they told powerful Celeus all things without fail, as the lovely-crowned goddess Demeter charged them. So Celeus called the countless people to an assembly and bade them make a goodly temple for rich-haired Demeter and an altar upon the rising hillock. And they obeyed him right speedily and harkened to his voice, doing as he commanded. As for the child, he grew like an immortal being.
[Line 301] Now when they had finished building and had drawn back from their toil, they went every man to his house. But golden-haired Demeter sat there apart from all the blessed gods and stayed, wasting with yearning for her deep-bosomed daughter. Then she caused a most dreadful and cruel year for mankind over the all-nourishing earth: the ground would not make the seed sprout, for rich-crowned Demeter kept it hid. In the fields the oxen drew many a curved plough in vain, and much white barley was cast upon the land without avail. So she would have destroyed the whole race of man with cruel famine and have robbed them who dwell on Olympus of their glorious right of gifts and sacrifices, had not Zeus perceived and marked this in his heart. First he sent golden-winged Iris to call rich-haired Demeter, lovely in form. So he commanded. And she obeyed the dark-clouded Son of Cronos, and sped with swift feet across the space between. She came to the stronghold of fragrant Eleusis, and there finding dark-cloaked Demeter in her temple, spake to her and uttered winged words:
"Demeter, father Zeus, whose wisdom is everlasting, calls you to come join the tribes of the eternal gods: come therefore, and let not the message I bring from Zeus pass unobeyed."
Thus said Iris imploring her. But Demeter's heart was not moved. Then again the father sent forth all the blessed and eternal gods besides: and they came, one after the other, and kept calling her and offering many very beautiful gifts and whatever rights she might be pleased to choose among the deathless gods. Yet no one was able to persuade her mind and will, so wroth was she in her heart; but she stubbornly rejected all their words: for she vowed that she would never set foot on fragrant Olympus nor let fruit spring out of the ground, until she beheld with her eyes her own fair-faced daughter.
[Line 334] Now when all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer heard this, he sent the Slayer of Argus whose wand is of gold to Erebus, so that having won over Hades with soft words, he might lead forth chaste Persephone to the light from the misty gloom to join the gods, and that her mother might see her with her eyes and cease from her anger. And Hermes obeyed, and leaving the house of Olympus, straightway sprang down with speed to the hidden places of the earth. And he found the lord Hades in his house seated upon a couch, and his shy mate with him, much reluctant, because she yearned for her mother. But she was afar off, brooding on her fell design because of the deeds of the blessed gods. And the strong Slayer of Argus drew near and said:
"Dark-haired Hades, ruler over the departed, father Zeus bids me bring noble Persephone forth from Erebus unto the gods, that her mother may see her with her eyes and cease from her dread anger with the immortals; for now she plans an awful deed, to destroy the weakly tribes of earthborn men by keeping seed hidden beneath the earth, and so she makes an end of the honours of the undying gods. For she keeps fearful anger and does not consort with the gods, but sits aloof in her fragrant temple, dwelling in the rocky hold of Eleusis."
So he said. And Aidoneus, ruler over the dead, smiled grimly and obeyed the behest of Zeus the king. For he straightway urged wise Persephone, saying:
[Line 360] "Go now, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother, go, and feel kindly in your heart towards me: be not so exceedingly cast down; for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless gods, that am own brother to father Zeus. And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods: those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore."
When he said this, wise Persephone was filled with joy and hastily sprang up for gladness. But he on his part secretly gave her sweet pomegranate seed to eat, taking care for himself that she might not remain continually with grave, dark-robed Demeter. Then Aidoneus the Ruler of Many openly got ready his deathless horses beneath the golden chariots And she mounted on the chariot and the strong Slayer of Argus took reins and whip in his dear hands and drove forth from the hall, the horses speeding readily. Swiftly they traversed their long course, and neither the sea nor river-waters nor grassy glens nor mountain-peaks checked the career of the immortal horses, but they clave the deep air above them as they went. And Hermes brought them to the place where rich-crowned Demeter was staying and checked them before her fragrant temple.
[Line 384] And when Demeter saw them, she rushed forth as does a Maenad down some thick-wooded mountain, while Persephone on the other side, when she saw her mother's sweet eyes, left the chariot and horses, and leaped down to run to her, and falling upon her neck, embraced her. But while Demeter was still holding her dear child in her arms, her heart suddenly misgave her for some snare, so that she feared greatly and ceased fondling her daughter and asked of her at once: "My child, tell me, surely you have not tasted any food while you were below? Speak out and hide nothing, but let us both know. For if you have not, you shall come back from loathly Hades and live with me and your father, the dark-clouded Son of Cronos and be honoured by all the deathless gods; but if you have tasted food, you must go back again beneath the secret places of the earth, there to dwell a third part of the seasons every year: yet for the two parts you shall be with me and the other deathless gods. But when the earth shall bloom with the fragrant flowers of spring in every kind, then from the realm of darkness and gloom thou shalt come up once more to be a wonder for gods and mortal men. And now tell me how he rapt you away to the realm of darkness and gloom, and by what trick did the strong Host of Many beguile you?"
[Line 405] Then beautiful Persephone answered her thus: "Mother, I will tell you all without error. When luck-bringing Hermes came, swift messenger from my father the Son of Cronos and the other Sons of Heaven, bidding me come back from Erebus that you might see me with your eyes and so cease from your anger and fearful wrath against the gods, I sprang up at once for joy; but he secretly put in my mouth sweet food, a pomegranate seed, and forced me to taste against my will. Also I will tell how he rapt me away by the deep plan of my father the Son of Cronos and carried me off beneath the depths of the earth, and will relate the whole matter as you ask. All we were playing in a lovely meadow, Leucippe and Phaeno and Electra and Ianthe, Melita also and Iache with Rhodea and Callirhoe and Melobosis and Tyche and Ocyrhoe, fair as a flower, Chryseis, Ianeira, Acaste and Admete and Rhodope and Pluto and charming Calypso; Styx too was there and Urania and lovely Galaxaura with Pallas who rouses battles and Artemis delighting in arrows.[5] We were playing and gathering sweet flowers in our hands, soft crocuses mingled with irises and hyacinths, and rose-blooms and lilies, marvellous to see, and the narcissus which the wide earth caused to grow yellow as a crocus. That I plucked in my joy; but the earth parted beneath, and there the strong lord, the Host of Many, sprang forth and in his golden chariot he bore me away, all unwilling, beneath the earth: then I cried with a shrill cry. All this is true, sore though it grieves me to tell the tale."
[Line 434] So did they then, with hearts at one, greatly cheer each the other's soul and spirit with many an embrace: their hearts had relief from their griefs while each took and gave back joyousness.
Then bright-coiffed Hecate came near to them, and often did she embrace the daughter of holy Demeter: and from that time the lady Hecate was minister and companion to Persephone.
And all-seeing Zeus sent a messenger to them, rich-haired Rhea, to bring dark-cloaked Demeter to join the families of the gods: and he promised to give her what rights she should choose among the deathless gods and agreed that her daughter should go down for the third part of the circling year to darkness and gloom, but for the two parts should live with her mother and the other deathless gods. Thus he commanded. And the goddess did not disobey the message of Zeus; swiftly she rushed down from the peaks of Olympus and came to the plain of Rharus, rich, fertile corn-land once, but then in nowise fruitful, for it lay idle and utterly leafless, because the white grain was hidden by design of trim-ankled Demeter. But afterwards, as spring-time waxed, it was soon to be waving with long ears of corn, and its rich furrows to be loaded with grain upon the ground, while others would already be bound in sheaves. There first she landed from the fruitless upper air: and glad were the goddesses to see each other and cheered in heart. Then bright-coiffed Rhea said to Demeter:
[Line 459] "Come, my daughter; for far-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer calls you to join the families of the gods, and has promised to give you what rights you please among the deathless gods, and has agreed that for a third part of the circling year your daughter shall go down to darkness and gloom, but for the two parts shall be with you and the other deathless gods: so has he declared it shall be and has bowed his head in token. But come, my child, obey, and be not too angry unrelentingly with the dark-clouded Son of Cronos; but rather increase forthwith for men the fruit that gives them life."
So spake Rhea. And rich-crowned Demeter did not refuse but straightway made fruit to spring up from the rich lands, so that the whole wide earth was laden with leaves and flowers. Then she went, and to the kings who deal justice, Triptolemus and Diocles, the horse-driver, and to doughty Eumolpus and Celeus, leader of the people, she showed the conduct of her rites and taught them all her mysteries, to Triptolemus and Polyxeinus and Diocles also, -- awful mysteries which no one may in any way transgress or pry into or utter, for deep awe of the gods checks the voice. Happy is he among men upon earth who has seen these mysteries; but he who is uninitiate and who has no part in them, never has lot of like good things once he is dead, down in the darkness and gloom.
[Line 483] But when the bright goddess had taught them all, they went to Olympus to the gathering of the other gods. And there they dwell beside Zeus who delights in thunder, awful and reverend goddesses. Right blessed is he among men on earth whom they freely love: soon they do send Plutus as guest to his great house, Plutus who gives wealth to mortal men.
And now, queen of the land of sweet Eleusis and sea-girt Paros and rocky Antron, lady, giver of good gifts, bringer of seasons, queen Deo, be gracious, you and your daughter all beauteous Persephone, and for my song grant me heart-cheering substance. And now I will remember you and another song also.
THE HOMERIC HYMN TO HERMES
The Homeric Hymns are a group of poems, each to a specific god (Demeter, Dionysus, Apollo, etc.), written in the style of the Iliad and the Odyssey. The Hymn to Hermes was probably written down around 520 B.C., though the material it contains is of great antiquity. Translated by Lewis Hyde in Trickster Makes This World: Mischief, Myth, and Art (New York: North Point Press, 1999), pp. 317-31.
HERMES IS BORN
Muse, sing in honor of Hermes, the son of Zeus and Maia, lord of Kyllene, lord of Arcadia with all its sheep, bringer of luck, messenger of the gods. His mother was Maia with the wonderful hair, a shy and shamefaced nymph who stayed in her shady cave, avoiding the company of the blessed gods. In the darkest night, when sweet sleep held white-armed Hera fast, Zeus, the son of Kronos, used to lie with the nymph with the fabulous hair. No one knew about it, neither the gods, who do not die, nor human beings, who do.
Now, when he had finished what he had in mind and when ten moons had risen in the sky, Zeus led his notorious child into the light. Maia gave birth to a wily[1] boy, flattering and cunning, a robber and cattle thief, a bringer of dreams, awake all night, waiting by the gates of the city—Hermes, who was soon to earn himself quite a reputation among the gods, who do not die.
As the sun rose on the fourth day of the month, lady Maia bore him; by noon he played the lyre and by evening he had stolen the cattle of Apollo, who shoots from afar.
HERMES INVENTS THE LYRE
Indeed, he didn't lie around in his sacred cradle, no, the minute he slipped from his mother's immortal arms he leapt up and set out to find Apollo's herds. As he crossed the threshold of that roomy cave, he happened on a turtle and got himself an endless source of wealth. For you should know that it was Hermes who first made the turtle into something that could sing. Their paths crossed at the courtyard gate, where the turtle was waddling by, chewing the thick grass in front of the dwelling. Hermes, the bringer of luck, took a close look, laughed, and said:
"Here's a bit of luck[2] I can't ignore! Hello there, you shapely thing, dancing girl, life of the party. Lovely to see you. How'd a mountain girl with a shiny shell get so playful? Let me carry you inside! What a blessing! Do me a favor, come on, I'll respect you. It's safer inside, you could get in trouble out there. A living turtle, they say, keeps troublesome witchcraft away. And yet, if you were to die you'd sing most beautifully."
So saying, Hermes picked up the turtle with both hands and carried his lovely toy into the house. He turned her over and with a scoop of gray iron scraped the marrow from her mountain shell. And, just as a swift thought can fly through the heart of a person haunted with care, just as bright glances spin from the eyes, so, in one instant, Hermes knew what to do and did it. He cut stalks of reed to measure, fitted them through the shell, and fastened their ends across the back. Skillfully, he tightened a piece of cowhide, set the arms in place, fixed a yoke across them, and stretched seven sheep-gut strings to sound in harmony.
When he was finished, he took that lovely thing and tested each string in turn with a flat pick. It rang out wonderfully at the touch of his hand, and he sang along beautifully, improvising a few random snatches the way teenagers sing out insults at a fair. He sang the song of Zeus, the son of Kronos, and Maia with the wonderful shoes, how they used to chat in comradely love; he broadcast the story of his own famous conception. And he sang in praise of Maia's servant girls and stately rooms, of all the tripods and caldrons she had to her name.
HERMES STEALS APOLLO'S CATTLE
As he sang, however, his mind wandered to other matters. For Hermes longed to eat meat. So, taking the hollow lyre and tucking it in his sacred cradle, he sped from the sweet-smelling halls to a lookout point, a tricky scheme brewing in his heart, the kind that mischievous folk cook up in the middle of the night.
The chariot and horses of Helios were going down below the earth toward Ocean when Hermes came running to the shadowed mountains of Pieria. There the divine cattle of the blessed gods have their stable and graze in lovely, unmown meadows.
There and then, Maia's son, the keen-eyed slayer of Argus,[3] cut fifty loudly lowing cattle from the herd and drove them zigzag across the sandy place. He thought to drive them backward, too, another crafty trick, mixing up their footprints—the front behind and the hind before—while he himself walked straight ahead.
And right away on that sandy beach he wove himself fabulous sandals, such as no one ever thought or heard of. Tying together the newly sprouted myrtle twigs and tamarisk, he bound them, leaves and all, securely to his feet, a pair of shoes for those who travel light. (The glorious slayer of Argus had picked those shrubs in Pieria when getting ready for this trip, inventing on the spot as one will do when packing in a hurry.)
But as he was hurrying through the grassy fields of Onchestus, he was seen by an old man setting up his flowering vineyard.[4] The notorious son of Maia spoke first:
"Hey, old man stooping over the hoe, you're sure to have barrels of wine when all those vines bear fruit. If, that is, you listen to me and bear in mind that you haven't seen what you've seen, and you haven't heard what you've heard, and, in general, keep your mouth shut as long as nobody's bothering you personally."
Having said all this, Hermes gathered the excellent herd of cattle and drove them through many shadowy mountains and echoing gorges and fields in flower.
And now divine night, his dark helper, was almost over and the dawn, which forces mortals to work, was quickly coming on. Bright Selene—daughter of Pallas, lord Megamedes' son—had just climbed to her watch-post when the sturdy child of Zeus drove Apollo's wide-browed cattle to the river Alpheus. They arrived unwearied at a high-roofed barn and watering troughs standing before a remarkable meadow.
A SACRIFICE TO THE GODS
Then, having foddered the bellowing herd and packed them into the stable, chewing fresh lotus and sweet ginger, he gathered a pile of wood and set himself to seek the art of fire, for Hermes, you should know, is responsible for fire-sticks and fire.[5]
He took a stout laurel branch, trimmed it with a knife, and spun it on a block of wood held firmly in his hand until the hot smoke crept up. Then he piled thick bunches of dry sticks in a sunken trench. The flames caught and spread fiercely.
While the power of glorious Hephaestus kindled the fire, Hermes, full of his own power, dragged two lowing longhorns out of the stable and up to the flames. He threw them panting on their backs, rolled them over, bent their heads aside, and pierced their spinal cords.
Then Hermes set about his chores in turn. First he cut up the richly marbled flesh and skewered it on wooden spits; he roasted all of it—the muscle and the prized sirloin and the dark-blooded belly—and laid the spits out on the ground.
The skins he stretched over a rippling rock (still today, ages later, those hides are there, and they will be there for ages to come). Next he gladly drew the dripping chunks of meat from the spits, spread them on a stone, and divided them into twelve portions distributed by lot, making each one exactly right.[6]
And glorious Hermes longed to eat that sacrificial meat. The sweet smell weakened him, god though he was; and yet, much as his mouth watered, his proud heart[7] would not let him eat. Later he took the fat and all the flesh and stored them in that ample barn, setting them high up as a token[8] of his youthful theft. That done, he gathered dry sticks and let the fire devour, absolutely, the hooves of the cattle, and their heads.
And when the god had finished, he threw his sandals into the deep pooling Alpheus. He quenched the embers and spread sand over the black ashes. And so the night went by under the bright light of the moon.
HERMES COMES HOME AT DAWN
As soon as the sun rose, the god set out for home, the bright peaks of Kyllene. No blessed god, no mortal man saw him on that long journey, and no dogs barked as he sped by.[9]
And at his mother's home, Hermes, bringer of luck, son of Zeus, slipped sideways through the keyhole like fog on an autumn breeze. Making none of the noise you might expect, he walked straight to the sumptuous heart of the cave. Then glorious Hermes leapt to his cradle, wrapped his baby clothes around his shoulders as if he were a feeble infant, and lay there, picking at the blanket around his knees and clutching his lovely lyre safe at his left hand.
But the god didn't get past the goddess, his mother. "Hello there, you double sneak!" she said to him. "Where exactly have you been at this hour, you who wrap yourself in shamelessness?[10] I believe I'd rather see Apollo carry you out of here, bound hand and foot in unbreakable ropes, than have you grow up to pester the woods with your sneaking thievery. But go ahead! Who am I? Your father meant you to be a great bother, both to the gods, who do not die, and to human beings, who do."
Hermes answered her, his eye on the bottom line:[11] "Mother, why are you trying to frighten me, a feeble babe who's never heard such big words, a timid child shaking at his mother's wrath?
"But seriously, I'm ready to do whatever I must so that you and I will never go hungry. You're wrong to insist we live in a place like this. Why should we be the only gods who never eat the fruits of sacrifice and prayer? Better always to live in the company of other deathless ones—rich, glamorous, enjoying heaps of grain—than forever to sit by ourselves in a gloomy cavern.
"And as for honor, my plan is to have a share of Apollo's power. If my father won't give it to me, I intend to be—and I mean it—the Prince of Thieves. If Leto's glorious boy comes after me, he'll soon be in more trouble than he is now. I'll go to Pytho, break into his big house and steal all his wonderful tripods, his caldrons and his gold, all his gleaming iron and his fancy clothes. See if I don't!"
And so they argued back and forth, the son of Zeus, who holds the shield, and lady Maia.
APOLLO SEARCHES FOR THE THIEF
Now Morning, the daughter of Dawn, was rising from deep Ocean's currents, bringing light to men, when Apollo passed through Onchestus, the lovely grove, sacred to the god who makes the earth quake.[12] There he found an old man grazing his beast along the path by the garden fence. Leto's glorious son spoke first, saying:
"Old man, you who've spent your life weeding thistles from grassy Onchestus, I have come here from Pieria looking for cattle from my herd—cows, all of them, with curving horns. The slate-black bull was by himself, grazing away from the others. Four of my sharp-eyed hounds, as smart as men, chased after the cows, but all were left behind—the bull and the dogs—which is quite uncanny. The cows left the soft, sweet pasture just as the sun was setting. Now tell me, old man born so long ago, have you seen anyone go by driving these cows?"
Then the old man answered him, saying, "Well, sonny, your eyes see so many things it's hard to know where to begin. So many people go down this road, some good, some bad. No telling who's who.
"However, I was up in my little vineyard working my hoe yesterday from dawn to dusk, and as the sun was going down I had the impression, dear sir, though it's hard to say for sure, that I saw a child—I couldn't really identify him—following a herd of longhorned cows, a baby with a staff who zigzagged side to side, and made the cows walk backward, their heads toward him."
As soon as he heard what the old man said, Apollo hurried on his way. Before long, he noticed a wide-winged bird and knew immediately that the thief was a child of Zeus, the son of Kronos. So the lord Apollo, himself a son of Zeus, covering his broad shoulders with a dark cloud, hurried on to holy Pylos looking for his footloose cattle.
And when the Great Archer made out their footprints, he cried out: "Well, well! This is remarkable, what I'm seeing. Clearly these are longhorn-cattle tracks, but they all point backward, toward the fields of daffodils! And these others, they are not the tracks of a man or a woman, nor of a gray wolf or a bear or lion. And I don't think the shaggy-maned centaur leaves such prints. What swift feet took these long strides? The tracks on this side of the path are weird, but those on the other side are weirder still!"
THE CONFRONTATION
So saying, lord Apollo, the son of Zeus, hurried on until he came to the forested mountain of Kyllene and the deeply shaded cave in the rocks where the divine nymph gave birth to Zeus' child. A sweet smell lay over the lovely slopes, and many spindle-legged sheep grazed in the grass. Over the stone threshold and into the dark cavern stepped bright Apollo himself.
Now, when the son of Zeus and Maia saw the archer Apollo in such a rage about his cattle, he wiggled down into the sweet-smelling blankets. Just as dark ashes hide the embers of burnt tree stumps, so Hermes slid snuggling under the covers when he saw the Great Archer. He bunched his head and hands and feet together like a newborn child overcome by sweet sleep, though in fact he was wide awake, his lyre tucked under his armpit.
The son of Leto saw all this. Immediately he spied the beautiful mountain nymph and her dear son, a tiny child wrapped in crafty subterfuge. He looked into every corner of their great home; with a shiny key he opened three inner sanctuaries full of nectar and sweet ambrosia. The closets were filled with gold and the nymph's silvery clothes, as is the fashion in homes of the blessed gods. Then, having searched every corner of the dwelling, Leto's son addressed himself to glorious Hermes:
"Little boy lying in the cradle, you had better tell me quickly what happened to my cattle, or you and I will soon be in an unseemly fight. I've a mind to take and throw you into the awful, hopeless dark of gloomy Tartarus. Neither your mother nor your father will be able to free you and bring you back to earth. You will walk out your days beneath the ground, a leader of dead babies."
Hermes answered him, with his eye on the bottom line: "Son of Leto, why are you yelling like a bully? You've come here looking for cows from your pasture? I haven't seen them. I haven't heard a word about them. No one's told me a thing. I can't give you any information, nor could I claim the reward for information.
"Do I look like a cattle driver? A big strong guy? That is not my kind of work. I am interested in other things: I care for sleep above all, and the milk of my mother's breasts, and a blanket over my shoulders, and warm baths.
"I'd advise you not to talk like this in public; the deathless gods would think it odd indeed, a day-old child bringing field animals into the courtyard. You're talking wildly. I was born yesterday; my feet are tender and the ground is rough beneath them.
"Still, if you insist, I am willing to swear a great oath by my father's head, and vow that I didn't steal your cows and that I haven't seen anyone else steal your cows—whatever 'cows' may be, for, to tell you the truth, I only know of them by hearsay."
Hermes' eyes twinkled as he spoke and he kept arching his brows, looking side to side and making long whistling noises as he listened to his own lying words.
Far-working Apollo laughed softly then, and said to Hermes: "My dear boy, what a tricky-hearted cheat you are! The way you talk, I'm quite convinced you broke into many fine homes last night, quietly swiping all the goods, leaving many a poor soul without a chair to sit on. You're going to be a great nuisance to lonely herdsmen in the mountain woods when you get to hankering after meat and come upon their cows or fleecy sheep. For the rest of time the gods, who do not die, will surely award you the title of Prince of Thieves. But come on, O friend of the black night, unless you want your latest nap turned into endless sleep, get out of that cradle."
So saying, Phoebus Apollo picked the child up and began to carry him. At this point, the powerful killer of Argus had a plan. Held aloft in Apollo's hands, he cut loose an omen, an exhausted belly slave, a rude herald of worse to come. At the same time he sneezed and Apollo, hearing all this, dropped him on the ground. Eager now to be on his way, still he sat beside Hermes, mocking:
"Never fear, little baby, son of Zeus and Maia. I'm sure these omens of yours will eventually lead me to my cattle. Why don't you lead the way?"
Hermes of Kyllene leapt up, his blanket around his shoulders and his hands covering his ears. "Where are you taking me, Far-Worker, most impatient of the gods?" he said. "Are you so angrily provoking me all because of your cattle? Oh dear! I wish all the cattle in the world would drop dead! I didn't steal your cows, and I didn't see anybody else steal them either, whatever cows may be, for I've only heard reports. No, do the right thing. Take this to Zeus, the son of Kronos."
And so, with their hearts at odds, Hermes the shepherd and Leto's glorious son argued the quarrel, point by point. Apollo, sticking to the facts, tried to snare glorious Hermes (who really was a cattle thief), while Hermes of Kyllene tried to lead the god of the silver bow astray with rhetoric and wheedling arguments.
THE ARGUMENT BEFORE ZEUS
But when he found Apollo able to match his every ruse, Hermes began to walk quickly across the sand, leading the son of Zeus and Leto. Soon these fine children of Zeus came to the peaks of fragrant Olympus, to their father, the son of Kronos. There, for both of them, the scales of justice were set. And there on snowy Olympus, after Dawn had settled on her golden throne, the gods, who do not die, had gathered to talk.
Then Hermes and Apollo of the Silver Bow stood before Zeus' knees and Zeus, who thunders in the heavens, spoke to his glorious son, asking, "Sunshine, where have you been to capture this fabulous prize, a newborn babe with a herald's face? This is some serious business you bring before the council of the gods!"
The far-working lord replied, "Father, you can tease about my love of spoils, but this is not a silly story I have to tell. Here is a child, an accomplished thief, whom I found after a long search through the hills of Kyllene. As far as I'm concerned, for catching folks on earth off-guard, I've never seen anyone, god or mortal, as brash as he.
"He stole my cows from their meadow and drove them off in the evening along the shore of the loud-roaring sea, headed straight for Pylos. The tracks were double, quite remarkable, the puzzling work of a clever spirit. Preserved in the dark dust, the cow's prints led back to the fields of daffodils, while this weird creature crossed the sandy ground, not on his feet and not on his hands, but as if—can you believe it!—he were walking on little oak trees. When he drove the cattle across sandy ground, the tracks stood out quite clearly, but when he left the wide stretch of sand and hit hard ground, all tracks disappeared, both his and the cattle's. Still, a mortal man saw him driving the wide-browed beasts straight to Pylos.
"Quietly he hid them away, then sneaked home by some devious route to lie—as still as the blackest night—in a cradle in the dark of a darkened cave. Not even a sharp-eyed eagle could have seen him there. Constantly rubbing his eyes with his fists, he fabricated falsehoods, and spoke up boldly, saying, 'I haven't seen them; I haven't heard of them; no one has told me about them. I can't tell you about them, nor can I win the reward for telling.' "
When bright Apollo finished speaking and sat down, Hermes turned to Zeus—son of Kronos, lord of all the gods—and answered, saying: "Zeus my father, of course I will tell you the truth, for I am an honest boy. I cannot tell a lie. Apollo came to our house today at dawn, looking for his ambling cattle. He brought no witness with him; not one of the blessed gods had seen this theft. Instead, he tried to torture a confession from me. He kept threatening to throw me deep into Tartarus. He is in the powerful bloom of youth, while I—as he is well aware—was just born yesterday.
"I'm no cattle thief, no big strong guy. You tell people you are my dear father, so please believe me. I've not had the pleasure of driving cattle to my home. I haven't even left the house. I'm telling the truth. I greatly revere Hellos and the other divinities; you I love; Apollo fills me with awe. You yourself know I'm not guilty. I will even swear this great oath: Verily, by the gods' richly decorated colonnades, I am innocent!
"Someday I'll get back at this bully, strong as he is, for his pitiless inquisition. But for now, please help your youngest son."
As he spoke, Hermes of Kyllene, the slayer of Argus, winked and clutched his baby blanket tightly in his arms. Zeus laughed aloud at the sight of his scheming child so smoothly denying his guilt about the cattle. And he ordered them both to come to an agreement and go find the cattle. He told Hermes the guide to lead the way and, dismissing the mischief in his heart, to show Apollo where the cattle were hidden. Then the son of Kronos nodded his head and good Hermes obeyed, for the will of Zeus, who holds the shield, persuades without effort.
HERMES AND APOLLO EXCHANGE GIFTS
Then Zeus' two fine sons hurried to sandy Pylos; at the ford of Alpheus they came to the fields and the roomy barn that sheltered the cattle at night. And as Hermes drove the sturdy cows out of their stony enclosure and into the light, Leto's son, glancing aside, noticed the cowhides spread on the rocks. Right away he questioned glorious Hermes:
"And how were you able to flay two cows, you crafty rogue, you little newborn baby? Looking back on it, your powers amaze me! You don't need to spend much time growing up, Kyllenian boy, son of Maia!"
As he spoke, Apollo twisted together strong willow bands, intending to tie Hermes up. But the bands could not hold the boy; they fell away at a distance and from the ground where they landed at once began to sprout, intertwining as they rose and quickly covering the roving cattle, as Hermes the thief intended. Apollo, watching, was astounded.
Fire flashing in his eyes, the strong killer of Argus looked furtively around, hoping to elude Leto's glorious son. Subtly, then, he began to soften that stern, far-shooting archer.
Cradling the lyre in his left arm, he struck each string in turn with the pick, and the instrument rang out awesomely. Bright Apollo laughed for joy as the sweet throb of that marvelous instrument stole into his heart, and a gentle longing seized his listening soul.
Playing sweetly upon the lyre, the son of Maia plucked up his courage and stood at the left hand of bright Apollo. And, letting the lyre introduce him, he raised his voice and sang,[13] and his voice was lovely.
He sang the story of the gods, who do not die, and of the dark earth, and how each came to be at the beginning of time, and how each came to have what now is theirs. Mnemosyne, the mother of the Muses, was the first among the gods he honored in his song, for the son of Maia was one of her followers. Then this good son of Zeus praised the other immortals, each in order of age; he told how each was born, naming them one by one in order as he struck his cradled lyre.
And Apollo was seized with a longing he could do nothing about; he opened his mouth and the words flew out: "Butcher of cattle, trickster, busy boy, friend of merry-makers, the things you're interested in are worth fifty cows. Soon I believe we shall settle our quarrel in peace. But come now, tell me, wily son of Maia: was this marvelous thing with you at birth, or did some god or mortal man give you that noble gift and teach you such heavenly song? For this is a new sound, a wonder to my ears; I swear, neither men nor Olympian gods have ever heard anything like it, except for you, O thieving son of Zeus and Maia.
"What skill you have! What a cure for hopeless care! What style! Honestly, three things seem mixed together in this music: humor and eros and sweet sleep. I am a follower of the Olympian Muses—those who love the dance and the bright sound of poetry, full-voiced song, and the lovely call of the pipes—and yet nothing has ever struck my spirit like this, not even the flashiest songs of young men at festivals. In short, I'm amazed, son of Zeus, at how well you play the lyre.
"But now, since you have such remarkable talent, sit down, little boy, and show some respect for the wisdom of the old. Know that you shall now be famous among the immortal gods, you and your mother both. These words are true: by my dogwood staff I swear I shall make you the renowned guide of the deathless gods. Luck will follow you. I will never deceive you; I will give you wonderful gifts."
Then Hermes answered with his eye on the bottom line: "You have an inquiring mind, Far-Shooter. I do not mind your learning this art. Today you shall be its master! For I want to be your friend in both thought and word.
"You have inner knowledge of all things, for you sit at the front of the deathless gods, both good and strong. Wise Zeus loves you, as well he should, and has given you formidable gifts. They say you know from his own mouth the honors that will come to the gods; you know his oracles, O Archer, and you know his laws. From all this I'm already aware of your great fortune.
"And, clearly, you are free to learn whatever strikes your fancy. Since it seems you've set your heart on playing the lyre, go ahead—play it and sing, give yourself over to joy. Do me the honor, my friend, of taking it as a gift from me.
"You have a talent for apt and orderly speech; take my clear-voiced friend in your hands and sing. Carry it freely with you when you're off to a fabulous feast, a charming dance, a famous party. Day and night it brings joy. It's easy if you play it casually; it hates hard work and drudgery. If a wise man takes it up with skill, its sound will reveal all sorts of pleasure to his mind. If an ignorant man strikes it violently, however, it will chatter flighty foolishness in his ear.
"But you can choose to learn what you want to learn, noble son of Zeus, and so I give this lyre to you. As for me, I will see that the free-roving cattle feed in the high meadows and the grassy plains. The cows will mate easily with the bulls and litter the fields with heifers and bullocks.
"You always have your eye on the bottom line, Apollo; well, now you don't need to be so rough and angry."
Having said all this, Hermes held out the lyre; bright Apollo took it and willingly placed his shining whip in Hermes' hand, ordaining him Keeper of the Herds. The son of Maia gladly accepted the gift, while Leto's fine son, lordly far-working Apollo, cradled the lyre in his left arm and tested each string with the pick. It made a wonderful sound, and as it did the god sang sweetly.
Afterward, these charming sons of Zeus drove the cows back to their sacred meadow, and themselves hurried to snowy Olympus, amusing themselves with the lyre as they went. Wise Zeus was glad, and confirmed their friendship. Hermes then loved Leto's son with constant affection, even as he does today. The gift of the lyre was a token of this love for the Great Archer, who played it skillfully, resting it on his arm. As for Hermes, he was eager to know another art, and made himself the shepherd's pipes, whose music carries great distances.
Then Leto's son said to Hermes, "Son of Maia, cunning boy and guide, I'm still afraid you might steal both my curving bow and my lyre, for Zeus has given you the honor of initiating deeds of exchange trade among men all over the fruitful world.[14] Please set my heart at ease; swear one of the gods' great oaths, either nodding your head or calling on the powerful waters of the river Styx."
Then Maia's son nodded his head and promised he would not steal anything the Great Archer owned, nor would he ever approach his well-built home. And Apollo, son of Leto, swore he would be Hermes' friend and companion. Of all the immortals—be they gods or human children of Zeus—he vowed to love none better than he loved Hermes.
APOLLO GIVES HERMES HIS OFFICES
Apollo then swore a serious oath: "For mortals and immortals alike, I would have this instrument be the sure and heartfelt token of our bond.
"Moreover, I now bestow on you the marvelous wand with three gold branches. It brings good fortune and wealth, and will protect you from harm as you effect the good words and deeds that I have learned from the mind of Zeus.
"But, noble child of Zeus, as for the other thing you have asked about, the art of prophecy, neither you nor any of the deathless gods may learn it. Only the mind of Zeus knows the future. I've made a pledge, I've vowed and sworn a great oath, that only I of all the undying gods might know his intricate plans. And so, dear brother, bearer of the golden wand, don't ask me to reveal the things all-seeing Zeus intends.
"As for me, I will sorely puzzle the unenviable race of men, destroying some and helping others. If a man comes to me guided by the call and flight of ominous birds, he will profit from my words; I won't deceive him. But the man who believes in birds that chatter idly, who invokes my prophetic art against my will, who tries to know more than the deathless gods, his journey will be useless, I swear. Still, I'd be happy to receive his offerings.
"I'll tell you one more thing, however, son of glorious Maia, son of Zeus who holds the shield, luck-bringing helper of the gods. There are certain sacred sisters, three virgins lifted on swift wings; their heads have been dusted with white meal; they live beneath a cliff on Parnassus.[15] They teach their own kind of fortune telling. I practiced it as a boy traipsing after cattle; my father doesn't care. The sisters fly back and forth from their home, feeding on waxy honeycombs and making things happen. They like to tell the truth when they have eaten honey and the spirit is on them; but if they've been deprived of that divine sweetness, they buzz about and mumble lies.
"I give them to you, then. Question them well and please your heart. And if mortal men you should instruct, they may have good fortune and follow you.
"And, son of Maia, tend, as well, the ranging, twisted-homed cattle, the horses, and the hard-working mules. May glorious Hermes be the lord of fire-eyed lions and white-toothed boars, and dogs; may he be lord of all the flocks and all the sheep the wide earth feeds. And Hermes alone shall be appointed messenger to the underworld, where Hades gives the ultimate gift and takes none in return."
In this way, with the blessing of the son of Kronos, lordly Apollo showed friendship and good will toward the son of Maia. So it is that Hermes moves among the gods, who do not die, and human beings, who must. And though he serves a few, most of the time, when night has fallen, he deceives the race whose time runs out.
And so farewell, son of Zeus and Maia; I will think of you often as I go on to other songs.
[1] Or "cunning," "versatile," "much traveled," "polytropic": polútropon (literally, turning-many-ways). In all of Greek literature, three characters are polytropic: Hermes, Odysseus, and Alcibiades.
[2] Hermaion: “a lucky find.”
[3] Argus Panoptes (the bright one, all eyes) was a watchful giant. He had a hundred or more eyes all over his body; some of his eyes would sometimes close for sleep, but never all of them. I take him to be an image of the watchfulness of a shame society.
[4] From other versions of the story we know this man's name is Battus.
[5] Hermes does not invent fire; he invents a method of making fire, a trick, a techne.
[6] The twelve portions are moíras or "lots," "allotments." Hermes makes one for each of the twelve Olympian gods (Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Demeter, Apollo, Artemis, Ares, Aphrodite, Hermes, Athena, Hephaestus, and Hestia).
[7] Thymos: “heart,” “soul,” “breath,” “mind”—the Homeric Greeks located intelligence in the chest and the speaking voice, not in the silent brain.
[8] Sêma or "sign."
[9] There is another version of the story in which dogs were guarding Apollo's cattle. Hermes silenced them by putting them into a stupor.
[10] Or "wearing the cloak of shamelessness": anaideien epieimene.
[11] Or "with crafty words": kerdaléoisi. A root of this word is kerdos, "gain," "profit." Hermes has his eye on the main chance.
[12] Poseidon.
[13] Literally, "he began to sing in prelude fashion, with a lovely voice." Scholars assume that Homeric hymns such as this one were sung as preludes to longer performances. At this point, therefore, a bard singing the Hymn describes Hermes as the bard himself would be described, "singing in prelude fashion."
[14] Note that Apollo assumes that someone involved in the marketplace will also be a thief. The world of this Hymn does not make a clear distinction between stealing and making a profit.
[15] These are called the Bee Maidens. Apollo gives Hermes a minor prophetic art.
