, and on the deck glared the lion
terribly. Then the men fled in terror to the stern, and there stood in
fear round the honest pilot. But suddenly sprang forth the lion and
seized the captain, and the men all at once leaped overboard into the
strong sea, shunning dread doom, and there were changed into dolphins.
But the God took pity upon the steersman, and kept him, and gave him all
good fortune, and spake, saying, "Be of good courage, Sir, dear art thou
to me, and I am Dionysus of the noisy rites whom Cadmeian Semele bare to
the love of Zeus." Hail, thou child of beautiful Semele, none that is
mindless of thee can fashion sweet minstrelsy.

VII. TO ARES

Ares, thou that excellest in might, thou lord of the chariot of war, God
of the golden helm, thou mighty of heart, thou shield-bearer, thou safety
of cities, thou that smitest in mail; strong of hand and unwearied
valiant spearman, bulwark of Olympus, father of victory, champion of
Themis; thou tyrannous to them that oppose thee with force; thou leader
of just men, thou master of manlihood, thou that whirlest thy flaming
sphere among the courses of the seven stars of the sky, where thy fiery
steeds ever bear thee above the third orbit of heaven; do thou listen to
me, helper of mortals, Giver of the bright bloom of youth. Shed thou
down a mild light from above upon this life of mine, and my martial
strength, so that I may be of avail to drive away bitter cowardice from
my head, and to curb the deceitful rush of my soul, and to restrain the
sharp stress of anger which spurs me on to take part in the dread din of
battle. But give me heart, O blessed one, to abide in the painless
measures of peace, avoiding the battle-cry of foes and the compelling
fates of death.

VIII. TO ARTEMIS

Sing thou of Artemis, Muse, the sister of the Far-darter; the archer
Maid, fellow-nursling with Apollo, who waters her steeds in the reedy
wells of Meles, then swiftly drives her golden chariot through Smyrna to
Claros of the many-clustered vines, where sits Apollo of the Silver Bow
awaiting the far-darting archer maid. And hail thou thus, and hail to
all Goddesses in my song, but to thee first, and beginning from thee,
will I sing, and so shall pass on to another lay.

IX. TO APHRODITE

I shall sing of Cytherea, the Cyprus-born, who gives sweet gifts to
mortals, and ever on her face is a winsome smile, and ever in her hand a
winsome blossom. Hail to thee, Go