TRANSLATIONS

The Translations were published partly by Shelley, with other poems, partly by Mrs. Shelley, and partly by Medwin, Garnett, Rossetti and Forman from MSS. The date of the original issue of each is given in the footnotes. They were written from 1818 to 1822. Two pieces, hypothetically ascribed to Shelley by Forman, The Dinner Party Anticipated, a paraphrase of Horace III. xix., and The Magic Horn from Bronzino, are excluded from the text, there being no substantial evidence that Shelley wrote them.

HYMN TO MERCURY

FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER

I

SING, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove,
The Herald-child, king of Arcadia

And all its pastoral hills, whom, in sweet love
Having been interwoven, modest May
Bore Heaven's dread Supreme. An antique grove
Shadowed the cavern where the lovers lay

In the deep night, unseen by Gods or Men,
And white-armed Juno slumbered sweetly then.

II

Now, when the joy of Jove had its fulfilling,
And Heaven's tenth moon chronicled her relief,
She gave to light a babe all babes excelling,
A schemer subtle beyond all belief,

A shepherd of thin dreams, a cow-stealing,

A night-watching, and door-waylaying thief, Who 'mongst the Gods was soon about to thieve, And other glorious actions to achieve.

III

The babe was born at the first peep of day;
He began playing on the lyre at noon,

Hymn to Mercury. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
ii. 5 dreams and, Rossetti conj.

And the same evening did he steal away
Apollo's herds. The fourth day of the moon,
On which him bore the venerable May,

From her immortal limbs he leaped full soon,
Nor long could in the sacred cradle keep,
But out to seek Apollo's herds would creep.

IV

Out of the lofty cavern wandering

He found a tortoise, and cried out "A trea

sure ! "

(For Mercury first made the tortoise sing) The beast before the portal at his leisure The flowery herbage was depasturing,

Moving his feet in a deliberate measure Over the turf. Jove's profitable son

Eying him laughed, and laughing thus begun:

V

"A useful godsend are you to me now,

King of the dance, companion of the feast, Lovely in all your nature! Welcome, you

Excellent plaything! Where, sweet mountain beast,

Got you that speckled shell? Thus much I know,
You must come home with me and be my guest;
You will give joy to me, and I will do
All that is in my power to honor you.

VI

"Better to be at home than out of door,

So come with me; and though it has been said

iii. 7 the his, Harvard MS.

That alive defend from magic power,

you

I know you will sing sweetly when you're dead." Thus having spoken, the quaint infant bore,

Lifting it from the grass on which it fed
And grasping it in his delighted hold,
His treasured prize into the cavern old.

VII

Then, scooping with a chisel of gray steel,
He bored the life and soul out of the beast.
Not swifter a swift thought of woe or weal
Darts through the tumult of a human breast
Which thronging cares annoy - not swifter wheel
The flashes of its torture and unrest

Out of the dizzy eyes—than Maia's son
All that he did devise hath featly done.

VIII

And through the tortoise's hard stony skin
At proper distances small holes he made,
And fastened the cut stems of reeds within,
And with a piece of leather overlaid

The open space and fixed the cubits in, Fitting the bridge to both, and stretched o'er all Symphonious cords of sheep-gut rhythmical.

IX

When he had wrought the lovely instrument,
He tried the chords, and made division meet,
Preluding with the plectrum, and there went
Up from beneath his hand a tumult sweet

viii. 1 stony, Boscombe MS., Harvard MS. || strong, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.