XVIII.—TO HERMES, 1-7
XVI
TO ASCLEPIUS
I begin to sing of Asclepius, son of Apollo and healer of sicknesses. In the Dotian plain fair Coronis, daughter of King Phlegyas, bare him, a great joy to men, a soother of cruel pangs.
And so hail to you, lord: in my song I make my prayer to thee!
XVII
TO THE DIOSCURI
Sing, clear-voiced Muse, of Castor and Polydeuces, the Tyndaridae, who sprang from Olympian Zeus. Beneath the heights of Taÿgetus stately Leda bare them, when the dark-clouded Son of Cronos had privily bent her to his will.
Hail, children of Tyndareus, riders upon swift horses!
XVIII
TO HERMES
I sing of Cyllenian Hermes, the Slayer of Argus, lord of Cyllene and Arcadia rich in flocks, luck-bringing messenger of the deathless gods. He was born of Maia, the daughter of Atlas, when she had mated with Zeus,—a shy goddess she. Ever she avoided the throng of the blessed gods and lived in a shadowy cave, and there the Son of Cronos used to lie with the rich-tressed nymph at dead
