hus, now wander among temples and men. Many are thy
fanes and groves, and dear are all the headlands, and high peaks of lofty
hills, and rivers flowing onward to the sea; but with Delos, Phoebus, art
thou most delighted at heart, where the long-robed Ionians gather in
thine honour, with children and shame-fast wives. Mindful of thee they
delight thee with boxing, and dances, and minstrelsy in their games. Who
so then encountered them at the gathering of the Ionians, would say that
they are exempt from eld and death, beholding them so gracious, and would
be glad at heart, looking on the men and fair-girdled women, and their
much wealth, and their swift galleys. Moreover, there is this great
marvel of renown imperishable, the Delian damsels, hand-maidens of the
Far-darter. They, when first they have hymned Apollo, and next Leto and
Artemis the Archer, then sing in memory of the men and women of old time,
enchanting the tribes of mortals. And they are skilled to mimic the
notes and dance music of all men, so that each would say himself were
singing, so well woven is their fair chant.

But now come, be gracious, Apollo, be gracious, Artemis; and ye maidens
all, farewell, but remember me even in time to come, when any of earthly
men, yea, any stranger that much hath seen and much endured, comes hither
and asks:

"Maidens, who is the sweetest to you of singers here conversant, and in
whose song are ye most glad?"

Then do you all with one voice make answer:

"A blind man is he, and he dwells in rocky Chios; his songs will ever
have the mastery, ay, in all time to come."

But I shall bear my renown of you as far as I wander over earth to the
fairest cities of men, and they will believe my report, for my word is
true. But, for me, never shall I cease singing of Apollo of the Silver
Bow, the Far-darter, whom fair-tressed Leto bore.

O Prince, Lycia is thine, and pleasant Maeonia, and Miletus, a winsome
city by the sea, and thou, too, art the mighty lord of sea-washed Delos.

THE FOUNDING OF DELPHI

The son of glorious Leto fares harping on his hollow harp to rocky Pytho,
clad in his fragrant raiment that waxes not old, and beneath the golden
plectrum winsomely sounds his lyre. Thence from earth to Olympus, fleet
as thought, he goes to the House of Zeus, into the Consistory of the
other Gods, and anon the Immortals bethink them of harp and minstrelsy.
And all the Muses together with sweet voice in antiphonal