lights in arrows, they sing a
strain telling of men and women of past days, and charm the tribes of
men. Also they can imitate the tongues of all men and their clattering
speech: each would say that he himself were singing, so close to truth
is their sweet song.

(ll. 165-178) And now may Apollo be favourable and Artemis; and farewell
all you maidens. Remember me in after time whenever any one of men on
earth, a stranger who has seen and suffered much, comes here and asks of
you: 'Whom think ye, girls, is the sweetest singer that comes here, and
in whom do you most delight?' Then answer, each and all, with one voice:
'He is a blind man, and dwells in rocky Chios: his lays are evermore
supreme.' As for me, I will carry your renown as far as I roam over the
earth to the well-placed this thing is true. And I will never cease to
praise far-shooting Apollo, god of the silver bow, whom rich-haired Leto
bare.

TO PYTHIAN APOLLO--

(ll. 179-181) O Lord, Lycia is yours and lovely Maeonia and Miletus,
charming city by the sea, but over wave-girt Delos you greatly reign
your own self.

(ll. 182-206) Leto's all-glorious son goes to rocky Pytho, playing upon
his hollow lyre, clad in divine, perfumed garments; and at the touch of
the golden key his lyre sings sweet. Thence, swift as thought, he speeds
from earth to Olympus, to the house of Zeus, to join the gathering of
the other gods: then straightway the undying gods think only of the lyre
and song, and all the Muses together, voice sweetly answering voice,
hymn the unending gifts the gods enjoy and the sufferings of men, all
that they endure at the hands of the deathless gods, and how they
live witless and helpless and cannot find healing for death or defence
against old age. Meanwhile the rich-tressed Graces and cheerful Seasons
dance with Harmonia and Hebe and Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, holding
each other by the wrist. And among them sings one, not mean nor puny,
but tall to look upon and enviable in mien, Artemis who delights in
arrows, sister of Apollo. Among them sport Ares and the keen-eyed Slayer
of Argus, while Apollo plays his lyre stepping high and featly and a
radiance shines around him, the gleaming of his feet and close-woven
vest. And they, even gold-tressed Leto and wise Zeus, rejoice in their
great hearts as they watch their dear son playing among the undying
gods.

(ll. 207-228) How then shall I sing of you--though in all ways you are a
worthy theme for s