A boar inflicted with his ivory tusk.
My venerable mother and thyself

Had sent me to her sire Autolicus,

To take the gifts which, when he hither came,

My grandsire promised smiling in consent.

Come now, and I will name the trees which once
Within this well-laid orchard thou didst give
Thy young Ulysses. For I ask'd them each
When yet a boy, and rambling at thy side
Within the garden. Through the
Through the very ranks
Of trees we walk'd, and thou didst name them all.
Thirteen with pears were laden that thou gavest,
With apples ten, and forty hung with figs;
And thou distinctly said'st that thou would'st give
Yet fifty rows of vines, and each was full
Of clusters; every kind of grape was there
When Jove's kind seasons weigh'd the tendrils
down."

He said; the old man's knees sank under him,
And his heart melted, for he recognised

The signs Ulysses told. Round his dear son He cast his arms. The brave long-suffering chief Drew him with joy half-lifeless to his breast.

From the Hymns.

PART OF THE HYMN TO APOLLO.

NINE days and nights Latona proved the pains
Of hopeless labour; but within the isle

The best of Goddesses stood near with aid.
Rhea, Dione, Themis searching truth,
And Amphitrite of the murmuring sea,
And all the fair Immortals, her except
Of snow-white arms; for Juno sate apart
Within the palace of Cloud-gatherer Jove.
Alone Lucina, speeder of the throes,

Knew not the coming birth. She also sate
Upon Olympus' summit underneath

The golden clouds, by Juno's wile, who there
Detain'd her; envious that the fair of locks,
Latona, should bring forth a noble son

And valiant. Then from the well-planted isle Those Goddesses sent Iris to conduct

Lucina thither: promising, as gift,

A weighty necklace strung with threads of gold,

Nine cubits length. They bade her stealthily
Call forth Lucina; lest the white-arm'd Queen
Should after turn her by insidious words,
And so avert her coming. Iris heard,

And fleet, wind-footed, pass'd with running speed
Away, and swiftly cross'd the middle space.
When to the dwelling of the Gods she came,
The steep Olympus, quickly to the gate
She called Lucina; and with winged speech
Told all th' Olympian Goddesses had said,
And moved the heart within her by the words
Of soft persuasion. So they came like doves,
With fearful fluttering steps; and as the feet
Of the birth-speeding Goddess touch'd the isle,
The labour seiz'd Latona, and her hour
Was come. Around a palm-tree's stem she threw
Her linked arms, and press'd her bowed knees
On the soft meadow: Earth beneath her smiled,
And Phoebus leap'd to light. The Goddesses
Scream'd in their joy. There, oh thou archer
God!

Those Goddesses imbathed thee in fair streams

With chaste and pure immersion, swathing thee

With new-wove mantle, white, of delicate folds,

Clasp'd with a golden belt. golden belt.

His mother's milk

Fed not Apollo of the golden sword;

But Themis with immortal hands infused
Nectar and bland Ambrosia. Then rejoiced
Latona that her boy had sprung to light,
Valiant, and bearer of the bow; but when,
Oh Phoebus! thou hadst tasted with thy lips
Ambrosial food, the golden swathes no more
Withheld thee panting, nor could bands restrain;
But every ligament was snapt in scorn.

Straight did Apollo stand in Heaven, and face
Th' Immortals: "Give me," cried the boy, "a harp
And bending bow; and let me prophesy

To mortal man th' unerring will of Jove."

Far-darting Phoebus of the flowing hair

Down from the broad-track'd mountain pass'd, and all

Those Goddesses look'd on in ravish'd awe;

And all the Delian isle was heap'd with gold,
So gladden'd by his presence, the fair son
Of Jove and of Latona. For he chose
That island as his home o'er every isle

Or continent, and loved it in his soul.
It flourish'd like a mountain, when its top
Is hid with flowering blossoms of a wood.

God of the silver bow, far-darting King!
Thou too hast trod the craggy Cynthus' heights,
And sometimes wander'd to the distant isles
And various haunts of men; and many fanes
Are thine, and groves thick set with gloomy trees:
Thine all the caverns, and the topmost cliffs
Of lofty mountains, and sea-rolling streams.
But still, oh Phoebus! in the Delian isle
Thy heart delighteth most. Th' Ionians there
In trailing robes before thy temple throng,
With their young children and their modest

wives;

And mindful of thy honour charm thee then With cestus combats, and with bounding dance, And song, in stated contest. At the sight

Of that Ionian crowd a man would say

That all were blooming with immortal youth:

So looking on the gallant mien of all,
And ravishing his mind while he beheld
The fair-form'd men, the women with broad zone