I shall sing of the revered Aphrodité, the golden-crowned, the beautiful, who hath for her portion the mountain crests of sea-girt Cyprus. Thither the strength of the west wind moistly blowing carried her amid soft foam over the wave of the resounding sea. Her did the golden-snooded Hours gladly welcome, and clad her about in immortal raiment, and on her deathless head set a well-wrought crown, fair and golden, and in her ears put earrings of orichalcum and of precious gold. Her delicate neck and white bosom they adorned with chains of gold, wherewith are bedecked the golden-snooded Hours themselves, when they come to the glad dance of the Gods in the dwelling of the Father. Anon when they had thus adorned her in all goodliness they led her to the Immortals, who gave her greeting when they beheld her, and welcomed her with their hands; and each God prayed that he might lead her home to be his wedded wife, so much they marvelled at the beauty of the fair-garlanded Cytherean. Hail, thou of the glancing eyes, thou sweet winsome Goddess, and grant that I bear off the victory in this contest, and lend thou grace to my song, while I shall both remember thee and another singing.
Dionysus sailing in his sacred ship. (Interior Design on a Kylix by Exekias in Munich.)
Concerning Dionysus the son of renowned Semele shall I sing; how once he appeared upon the shore of the sea unharvested, on a jutting headland, in form like a man in the bloom of youth, with his beautiful dark hair waving around him, and on his strong shoulders a purple robe. Anon came in sight certain men that were pirates; in a well-wrought ship sailing swiftly on the dark seas: Tyrsenians were they, and Ill Fate was their leader, for they beholding him nodded each to other, and swiftly leaped forth, and hastily seized him, and set him aboard their ship rejoicing in heart, for they deemed that he was the son of kings, the fosterlings of Zeus, and they were minded to bind him with grievous bonds. But him the fetters held not, and the withes fell far from his hands and feet. {214} There sat he smiling with his dark eyes, but the steersman saw it, and spake aloud to his companions: “Fools, what God have ye taken and bound? a strong God is he, our trim ship may not contain him. Surely this is Zeus, or Apollo of the Silver Bow, or Poseidon; for he is nowise like mortal man, but like the Gods who have mansions in Olympus. Nay, come let us instantly release him upon the dark mainland, nor lay ye your hands upon him, lest, being wroth, he rouse against us masterful winds and rushing storm.”
So spake he, but their captain rebuked him with a hateful word: “Fool, look thou to the wind, and haul up the sail, and grip to all the gear, but this fellow will be for men to meddle with. Methinks he will come to Egypt, or to Cyprus, or to the Hyperboreans, or further far; and at the last he will tell us who his friends are, and concerning his wealth, and his brethren, for the God has delivered him into our hands.”
So spake he, and let raise the mast and hoist the mainsail, and the wind filled the sail, and they made taut the ropes all round. But anon strange matters appeared to them: first there flowed through all the swift black ship a sweet and fragrant wine, and the ambrosial fragrance arose, and fear fell upon all the mariners that beheld it. And straightway a vine stretched hither and thither along the sail, hanging with many a cluster, and dark ivy twined round the mast blossoming with flowers, and gracious fruit and garlands grew on all the thole-pins; and they that saw it bade the steersman drive straight to land. Meanwhile within the ship the God changed into the shape of a lion at the bow; and loudly he roared, and in midship he made a shaggy bear: such marvels he showed forth: there stood it raging, 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.
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.
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.
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, Goddess, Queen of fair-set Salamis, and of all Cyprus, and give to me song desirable, while I shall be mindful of thee and of another song.
Of Pallas Athene, the saviour of cities, I begin to sing; dread Goddess, who with Ares takes keep of the works of war, and of falling cities, and battles, and the battle din. She it is that saveth the hosts as they go and return from the fight. Hail Goddess, and give to us happiness and good fortune.
I sing of golden-throned Hera, whom Rhea bore, an immortal queen in beauty pre-eminent, the sister and the bride of loud-thundering Zeus, the lady renowned, whom all the Blessed throughout high Olympus honour and revere no less than Zeus whose delight is the thunder.
Of fair-tressed Demeter the holy Goddess I begin to sing; of her and the Maiden, the lovely Persephone. Hail Goddess, and save this city and inspire my song.
Sing for me, clear-voiced Muse, daughter of great Zeus, the mother of all Gods and all mortals, who is glad in the sound of rattles and drums, and in the noise of flutes, and in the cry of wolves and fiery-eyed lions, and in the echoing hills, and the woodland haunts; even so hail to thee and to Goddesses all in my song.
Of Heracles the son of Zeus will I sing, mightiest of mortals, whom Alcmena bore in Thebes of the fair dancing places, for she had lain in the arms of Cronion, the lord of the dark clouds. Of old the hero wandered endlessly over land and sea, at the bidding of Eurystheus the prince, and himself wrought many deeds of fateful might, and many he endured; but now in the fair haunts of snowy Olympus he dwells in joy, and hath white-ankled Hebe for his wife. Hail prince, son of Zeus, and give to us valour and good fortune.
Of the healer of diseases, Asclepius, I begin to sing, the son of Apollo, whom fair Coronis bore in the Dotian plain, the daughter of King Phlegyas; a great joy to men was her son, and the soother of evil pains. Even so do thou hail, O Prince, I pray to thee in my song.
Of Castor and Polydeuces do thou sing,—shrill Muse, the Tyndaridæ, sons of Olympian Zeus, whom Lady Leda bore beneath the crests of Taygetus, having been secretly conquered by the desire of Cronion of the dark clouds. Hail, ye sons of Tyndarus, ye cavaliers of swift steeds.
I sing of Cyllenian Hermes, slayer of Argus, prince of Cyllene and of Arcadia rich in sheep, the boon messenger of the Immortals. Him did Maia bear, the modest daughter of Atlas, to the love of Zeus. The company of the blessed Gods she shunned, and dwelt in a shadowy cave where Cronion was wont to lie with the fair-tressed nymph in the dark of night, while sweet sleep possessed white-armed Hera, and no Immortals knew it, and no deathly men. Hail to thee, thou son of Zeus and Maia, with thee shall I begin and pass on to another song. Hail, Hermes, Giver of grace, thou Guide, thou Giver of good things.
Pan. With Goat and Shepherd’s Crook. Terra cotta Statuette from Tanagra, in the British Museum
Tell me, Muse, concerning the dear son of Hermes, the goat-footed, the twy-horned, the lover of the din of revel, who haunts the wooded dells with dancing nymphs that tread the crests of the steep cliffs, calling upon Pan the pastoral God of the long wild hair. Lord is he of every snowy crest and mountain peak and rocky path. Hither and thither he goes through the thick copses, sometimes being drawn to the still waters, and sometimes faring through the lofty crags he climbs the highest peak whence the flocks are seen below; ever he ranges over the high white hills, and ever among the knolls he chases and slays the wild beasts, the God, with keen eye, and at evening returns piping from the chase, breathing sweet strains on the reeds. In song that bird cannot excel him which, among the leaves of the blossoming springtide, pours forth her plaint and her honey-sweet song. With him then the mountain nymphs, the shrill singers, go wandering with light feet, and sing at the side of the dark water of the well, while the echo moans along the mountain crest, and the God leaps hither and thither, and goes into the midst, with many a step of the dance. On his back he wears the tawny hide of a lynx, and his heart rejoices with shrill songs in the soft meadow where crocus and fragrant hyacinth bloom all mingled amidst the grass. They sing of the blessed Gods and of high Olympus, and above all do they sing of boon Hermes, how he is the fleet herald of all the Gods, and how he came to many-fountained Arcadia, the mother of sheep, where is his Cyllenian demesne, and there he, God as he was, shepherded the fleecy sheep, the thrall of a mortal man; for soft desire had come upon him to wed the fair-haired daughter of Dryops, and the glad nuptials he accomplished, and to Hermes in the hall she bare a dear son. From his birth he was a marvel to behold, goat-footed, twy-horned, a loud speaker, a sweet laugher. Then the nurse leaped up and fled when she saw his wild face and bearded chin. But him did boon Hermes straightway take in his hands and bear, and gladly did he rejoice at heart. Swiftly to the dwellings of the Gods went he, bearing the babe hidden in the thick skins of mountain hares; there sat he down by Zeus and the other Immortals, and showed his child, and all the Immortals were glad at heart, and chiefly the Bacchic Dionysus. Pan they called the babe to name: because he had made glad the hearts of all of them. Hail then to thee, O Prince, I am thy suppliant in song, and I shall be mindful of thee and of another lay.
Sing, shrill Muse, of Hephæstus renowned in craft, who with grey-eyed Athene taught goodly works to men on earth, even to men that before were wont to dwell in mountain caves like beasts; but now, being instructed in craft by the renowned craftsman Hephæstus, lightly the whole year through they dwell happily in their own homes. Be gracious, Hephæstus, and grant me valour and fortune.
Phœbus, to thee the swan sings shrill to the beating of his wings, as he lights on the bank of the whirling pools of the river Peneus; and to thee with his shrill lyre does the sweet-voiced minstrel sing ever, both first and last. Even so hail thou, Prince, I beseech thee in my song.
Concerning Poseidon, a great God, I begin to sing: the shaker of the land and of the sea unharvested; God of the deep who holdeth Helicon and wide Ægæ. A double meed of honour have the Gods given thee, O Shaker of the Earth, to be tamer of horses and saviour of ships. Hail Prince, thou Girdler of the Earth, thou dark-haired God, and with kindly heart, O blessed one, do thou befriend the mariners.
To Zeus the best of Gods will I sing; the best and the greatest, the far-beholding lord who bringeth all to an end, who holdeth constant counsel with Themis as she reclines on her couch. Be gracious, far-beholding son of Cronos, thou most glorious and greatest.
Hestia, that guardest the sacred house of the Prince, Apollo the Far-darter, in goodly Pytho, ever doth the oil drop dank from thy locks. Come thou to this house with a gracious heart, come with counselling Zeus, and lend grace to my song.
From the Muse I shall begin and from Apollo and Zeus. For it is from the Muses and far-darting Apollo that minstrels and harpers are upon the earth, but from Zeus come kings. Fortunate is he whomsoever the Muses love, and sweet flows his voice from his lips. Hail, ye children of Zeus, honour ye my lay, and anon I shall be mindful of you and of another hymn.
Of ivy-tressed uproarious Dionysus I begin to sing, the splendid son of Zeus and renowned Semele. Him did the fair-tressed nymphs foster, receiving him from the king and father in their bosoms, and needfully they nurtured him in the glens of Nysê. By his father’s will he waxed strong in the fragrant cavern, being numbered among the Immortals. Anon when the Goddesses had bred him up to be the god of many a hymn, then went he wandering in the woodland glades, draped with ivy and laurel, and the nymphs followed with him where he led, and loud rang the wild woodland. Hail to thee, then, Dionysus of the clustered vine, and grant to us to come gladly again to the season of vintaging, yea, and afterwards for many a year to come.
I sing of Artemis of the Golden Distaff, Goddess of the loud chase, a maiden revered, the slayer of stags, the archer, very sister of Apollo of the golden blade. She through the shadowy hills and the windy headlands rejoicing in the chase draws her golden bow, sending forth shafts of sorrow. Then tremble the crests of the lofty mountains, and terribly the dark woodland rings with din of beasts, and the earth shudders, and the teeming sea. Meanwhile she of the stout heart turns about on every side slaying the race of wild beasts. Anon when the Archer Huntress hath taken her delight, and hath gladdened her heart, she slackens her bended bow, and goes to the great hall of her dear Phœbus Apollo, to the rich Delphian land; and arrays the lovely dance of Muses and Graces. There hangs she up her bended bow and her arrows, and all graciously clad about she leads the dances, first in place, while the others utter their immortal voice in hymns to fair-ankled Leto, how she bore such children pre-eminent among the Immortals in counsel and in deed. Hail, ye children of Zeus and fair-tressed Leto, anon will I be mindful of you and of another hymn.
Apollo, Artemis and Leto in procession. Marble relief in the Louvre
Of fairest Athene, renowned Goddess, I begin to sing, of the Grey-eyed, the wise; her of the relentless heart, the maiden revered, the succour of cities, the strong Tritogeneia. Her did Zeus the counsellor himself beget from his holy head, all armed for war in shining golden mail, while in awe did the other Gods behold it. Quickly did the Goddess leap from the immortal head, and stood before Zeus, shaking her sharp spear, and high Olympus trembled in dread beneath the strength of the grey-eyed Maiden, while earth rang terribly around, and the sea was boiling with dark waves, and suddenly brake forth the foam. Yea, and the glorious son of Hyperion checked for long his swift steeds, till the maiden took from her immortal shoulders her divine armour, even Pallas Athene: and Zeus the counsellor rejoiced. Hail to thee, thou child of ægis-bearing Zeus, anon shall I be mindful of thee and of another lay.
Hestia, thou that in the lofty halls of all immortal Gods, and of all men that go on earth, hast obtained an eternal place and the foremost honour, splendid is thy glory and thy gift, for there is no banquet of mortals without thee, none where, Hestia, they be not wont first and last to make to thee oblation of sweet wine. And do thou, O slayer of Argus, son of Zeus and Maia, messenger of the blessed Gods, God of the golden wand, Giver of all things good, do thou with Hestia dwell in the fair mansions, dear each to other; with kindly heart befriend us in company with dear and honoured Hestia. [For both the twain, well skilled in all fair works of earthly men, consort with wisdom and youth.] Hail daughter of Cronos, thou and Hermes of the golden wand, anon will I be mindful of you and of another lay.
Concerning Earth, the mother of all, shall I sing, firm Earth, eldest of Gods, that nourishes all things in the world; all things that fare on the sacred land, all things in the sea, all flying things, all are fed out of her store. Through thee, revered Goddess, are men happy in their children and fortunate in their harvest. Thine it is to give or to take life from mortal men. Happy is he whom thou honourest with favouring heart; to him all good things are present innumerable: his fertile field is laden, his meadows are rich in cattle, his house filled with all good things. Such men rule righteously in cities of fair women, great wealth and riches are theirs, their children grow glorious in fresh delights: their maidens joyfully dance and sport through the soft meadow flowers in floral revelry. Such are those that thou honourest, holy Goddess, kindly spirit. Hail, Mother of the Gods, thou wife of starry Ouranos, and freely in return for my ode give me sufficient livelihood. Anon will I be mindful of thee and of another lay.
Begin, O Muse Calliope, to sing of Helios the child of Zeus, the splendid Helios whom dark-eyed Euryphæssa bore to the son of Earth and starry Heaven. For Hyperion wedded Euryphæssa, his own sister, who bore him goodly children, the rosy-armed Dawn, and fair-tressed Selene, and the tireless Helios, like unto the Immortals, who from his chariot shines on mortals and on deathless Gods, and dread is the glance of his eyes from his golden helm, and bright rays shine forth from him splendidly, and round his temples the shining locks flowing down from his head frame round his far-seen face, and a goodly garment wrought delicately shines about his body in the breath of the winds, and stallions speed beneath him when he, charioting his horses and golden-yoked car, drives down through heaven to ocean. Hail, Prince, and of thy grace grant me livelihood enough; beginning from thee I shall sing the race of heroes half divine, whose deeds the Goddesses have revealed to mortals.
Ye Muses, sing of the fair-faced, wide-winged Moon; ye sweet-voiced daughters of Zeus son of Cronos, accomplished in song! The heavenly gleam from her immortal head circles the earth, and all beauty arises under her glowing light, and the lampless air beams from her golden crown, and the rays dwell lingering when she has bathed her fair body in the ocean stream, and clad her in shining raiment, divine Selene, yoking her strong-necked glittering steeds. Then forward with speed she drives her deep-maned horses in the evening of the mid-month when her mighty orb is full; then her beams are brightest in the sky as she waxes, a token and a signal to mortal men. With her once was Cronion wedded in love, and she conceived, and brought forth Pandia the maiden, pre-eminent in beauty among the immortal Gods. Hail, Queen, white-armed Goddess, divine Selene, gentle of heart and fair of tress. Beginning from thee shall I sing the renown of heroes half divine whose deeds do minstrels chant from their charmed lips; these ministers of the Muses.
Sing, fair-glancing Muses, of the sons of Zeus, the Tyndaridæ, glorious children of fair-ankled Leda, Castor the tamer of steeds and faultless Polydeuces. These, after wedlock with Cronion of the dark clouds, she bore beneath the crests of Taygetus, that mighty hill, to be the saviours of earthly men, and of swift ships when the wintry breezes rush along the pitiless sea. Then men from their ships call in prayer with sacrifice of white lambs when they mount the vessel’s deck. But the strong wind and the wave of the sea drive down their ship beneath the water; when suddenly appear the sons of Zeus rushing through the air with tawny wings, and straightway have they stilled the tempests of evil winds, and have lulled the waves in the gulfs of the white salt sea: glad signs are they to mariners, an ending of their labour: and men see it and are glad, and cease from weary toil. Hail ye, Tyndaridæ, ye knights of swift steeds, anon will I be mindful of you and of another lay.
Some say that Semele bare thee to Zeus the lord of thunder in Dracanon, and some in windy Icarus, and some in Naxos, thou seed of Zeus, Eiraphiotes; and others by the deep-swelling river Alpheius, and others, O Prince, say that thou wert born in Thebes. Falsely speak they all: for the Father of Gods and men begat thee far away from men, while white-armed Hera knew it not. There is a hill called Nysê, a lofty hill, flowering into woodland, far away from Phœnicia, near the streams of Ægyptus. . . .
“And to thee will they raise many statues in the temples: as these thy deeds are three, so men will sacrifice to thee hecatombs every three years.” {254}
So spake Zeus the counsellor, and nodded with his head. Be gracious, Eiraphiotes, thou wild lover, from thee, beginning and ending with thee, we minstrels sing: in nowise is it possible for him who forgets thee to be mindful of sacred song. Hail to thee, Dionysus Eiraphiotes, with thy mother Semele, whom men call Thyone.
{4} Baumeister, p. 94, and note on Hymn to Hermes, 51, citing Antigonus Carystius. See, too, Gemoll, Die Homerischen Hymnen, p. 105.
{13} Journal of Hellenic Society, vol. xiv. pp. 1-29. Mr. Verrall’s whole paper ought to be read, as a summary cannot be adequate.
{16a} Henderson, “The Casket Letters,” p. 67.
{16b} Baumeister, “Hymni Homerici,” 1860, p. 108 et seq.
{18} Die Homerischen Hymnen, p. 116 (1886).
{23a} Journal Anthrop. Inst., Feb. 1892, p. 290.
{23b} (Op. cit., p. 296.) See “Are Savage Gods Borrowed from Missionaries?” (Nineteenth Century, January 1899).
{24} Hartland, “Folk-Lore,” ix. 4, 312; x. I, p. 51.
{30} Winslow, 1622.
{34} For authorities, see Mr Howitt in the Journal of the Anthropological Institute, and my “Making of Religion.” Also Folk Lore, December-March, 1898-99.
{37a} Manning, “Notes on the Aborigines of New Holland.” Read before Royal Society of New South Wales, 1882. Notes taken down in 1845. Compare Mrs. Langloh Parker, More Australian Legendary Tales, “The Legend of the Flowers.”
{37b} Spencer and Gillen, “Natives of Central Australia,” p. 651, s.v.
{39} For the use of Hermes’s tortoise-shell as a musical instrument without strings, in early Anahuac, see Prof. Morse, in Appleton’s Popular Science Monthly, March 1899.
{41} Gemoll.
{44} “Golden Bough,” i. 279. Mannhardt, Antike-Wald-und Feldkulte, p. 274.
{45} Howitt, Journal Anthtop. Inst., xvi. p. 54.
{46a} The Kurnai hold this belief.
{46b} Brough Smyth, vol. i. p. 426
{46c} Journal Anthrop. Inst., xvi. pp. 330-331.
{59} The most minute study of Lobeck’s Aglaophamus can tell us no more than this; the curious may consult a useful short manual, Eleusis, Ses Mystères, Ses Ruines, et son Musée, by M. Demetrios Philios. Athens, 1896. M. Philios is the Director of the Eleusinian Excavations.
{61} “Golden Bough,” ii. 292.
{62} “Golden Bough,” ii. 369.
{64a} “Golden Bough,” ii. 44.
{64b} Ibid., 46.
{65} Mrs. Langloh Parker, “More Australian Legends,” pp. 93-99.
{66} The anthropomorphic view of the Genius of the grain as a woman existed in Peru, as I have remarked in “Myth, Ritual, and Religion,” i. 213. See, too, “Golden Bough,” i. p. 351; Mr. Frazer also notes the Corn Mother of Germany, and the Harvest Maiden of Balquhidder.
{67} “Golden Bough,” p. 351, citing from Mannhardt a Spanish tract of 1649.
{68} Howitt, on Mysteries of the Coast Murring (Journal Anthrop. Instit., vol. xiv.).
{69} De Smet, “Oregon Mission,” p. 359. Tanner’s “Narrative” (1830), pp. 192-193.
{72} Pater, “Greek Studies,” p. 90.
{74a} “Africana,” i. 130.
{74b} Journal Anthrop. Instit. (1884), xiii. pp. 444, 450.
{74c} Op. cit., xiv. pp. 310, 316.
{75} “New South Wales,” by Barren Field, pp. 69, 122 (1825).
{76a} Aristophanes, Ranæ, 445 et seq.; Origen. c. Cels., iii. 59; Andocides, Myst., 31; Euripides, Bacch, 72 et seq. See Wobbermin, Religionsgeschitliche Studien, pp. 36-44.
{76b} Wobbermin, op. cit., p. 38.
{77} Wobbermin, op. cit., p. 34.
{78} Hatch, “Hibbert Lectures,” pp. 284, 285.
{82} Recherches sur l’Origine et la Nature des Mystères d’Eleusis. Klinikseck. Paris, 1895.
{84} Herodotus, ii. 171.
{85a} Spencer and Gillen, “Natives of Central Australia,” p. 399. The myth is not very quotable.
{85b} Foucart, p. 19, quoting Philosophoumena, v. 7. M. Foucart, of course, did not know the Arunta parallel.
{85c} Journal Anthrop. Inst. (1884), pp. 194, 195, “Ngarego and Wolgal Tribes of New South Wales.”
{85d} Ibid. (1885), p. 313.
{86a} For ample information on this head see Mr. Clodd’s “Tom-Tit-Tot,” and my “Custom and Myth” (“Cupid, Psyche, and the Sun Frog”).
{86b} Panegyr., 28.
{87a} Clem. Alex. Protrept., ii. 77 et seq.
{87b} Harpocration, s. v. Δυσαυλης.
{87c} Cf. ανασυρτολις. Hippon, 90, and Theophrastus, Charact. 6, and Synesius, 213, c. Liddell and Scott, s.v. ανασυρω.
{88a} “Sand and Spinifex,” 1899.
{88b} Foucart, pp. 45, 46
{88c} Hymn, Orph., 41, 5-9.
{89a} Heriot, 1586.
{89b} Foucart, pp. 56-59.
{90} Foucart, p. 64.
{91a} Basil Thomson, “The Kalou-Vu” (Journal Anthrop. Inst., May 1895, pp. 349-356). Mr. Thomson was struck by the Greek analogies, but he did not know, or does not allude to, Plutarch and the Golden Scroll.
{91b} Fragments, V. p. 9, Didot; Foucart, p. 56, note.
{95a} Herodotus, Alilat, i. 131, iii. 8.
{95b} “Cities and Bishoprics of Phrygia,” 1895, vol. i. pp. 91, 92.
{104} Callim., H. Apoll. 30.
ουδ' ο χορος τον φοιβον εφ' εν μονον ημαρ αεισει
εστι yαρ ευυμνις τις αν ου ρεα φοιβον αειδοι;
{115} The Greek is corrupt, especially in line 213.
{121} This action was practised by the Zulus in divination, and, curiously, by a Highlander of the last century, appealing to the dead Lovat not to see him wronged.
{124} A folk-etymology from πυθειν = to rot.
{127} A similar portent is of recent belief in Maori tradition.
{133} See Essay on this Hymn.
{136} In our illustration both the lyre with a tortoise shell for sounding-board, and the cithara, with no such sounding-board, are represented. Is it possible that “the tuneful shell” was primarily used without chords, as an instrument for drumming upon? The drum, variously made, is the primitive musical instrument, and it is doubted whether any stringed instrument existed among native American races. But drawings in ancient Aztec MSS. (as Mr. Morse has recently observed) show the musician using a kind of drum made of a tortoise-shell, and some students have (probably with too much fancy) recognised a figure with a tortoise-shell fitted with chords, in Aztec MSS. It is possible enough that the early Greeks used the shell as a sort of drum, before some inventor (Hermes, in the Hymn) added chords and developed a stringed instrument. Cf. p. 39.
{138} Such sandals are used to hide their tracks by Avengers of Blood among the tribes of Central Australia.
{140} This piece of wood is that in which the other is twirled to make fire by friction.
{141a} Otherwise written and interpreted, “as even now the skins are there,” that is, are exhibited as relics.
{141b} “Der Zweite Halbvers is mir absolut unverstandlich!”—Gemoll.
{144} This is not likely to be the sense, but sense the text gives none. Allen, Journal of Hellenic Studies, xvii. II.
{153} “As if one walked with trees instead of feet.”—Allen.
{156} The passage which follows (409-414) is too corrupt to admit of any but conjectural rendering. Probably Apollo twisted bands, which fell off Hermes, turned to growing willows, and made a bower over the kine. See Mr. Allen, op. cit.
{162a} This passage is a playing field of conjecture; some taking συμβολον = Mediator, or Go-between: some as = pactum, “covenant.”
{162b} There seems to be a reference to the caduceus of Hermes, which some have compared to the forked Divining Rod. The whole is corrupt and obscure. To myself it seems that, when he gave the lyre (463-495), Hermes was hinting at his wish to receive in exchange the gift of prophecy. If so, these passages are all disjointed, and 521, with what follows, should come after 495, where Hermes makes the gift of the lyre.
{164} It appears from Philochorus that the prophetic lots were called thriæ. They are then personified, as the prophetic Sisters, the Thriæ. The white flour on their locks may be the grey hair of old age: we know, however, a practice of divining with grain among an early agricultural people, the Hurons.
{168} Hestia, deity of the sacred hearth, is, in a sense, the Cinderella of the Gods, the youngest daughter, tending the holy fire. The legend of her being youngest yet eldest daughter of Cronos may have some reference to this position. “The hearth-place shall belong to the youngest son or daughter,” in Kent. See “Costumal of the Thirteenth Century,” with much learning on the subject, in Mr. Elton’s “Origins of English History,” especially p. 190.
{170} Shielings are places of summer abode in pastoral regions.
{180} Reading χεισεται, Mr. Edgar renders “no longer will my mouth ope to tell,” &c.
{194} κλισμος seems to answer to fauteuil, διφρος to tabouret.
{196} M. Lefébure suggests to me that this is a trace of Phœnician influence: compare Moloch’s sacrifices of children, and “passing through the fire.” Such rites, however, are frequent in Japan, Bulgaria, India, Polynesia, and so on. See “The Fire Walk” in my “Modern Mythology.”
{204} An universally diffused belief declares that whosoever tastes the food of the dead may never return to earth.
{205} The lines in brackets merely state the probable meaning of a dilapidated passage.
{214} This appears to answer to the difficult passage about the bonds of Apollo falling from the limbs of Hermes (Hermes, 404, 405). Loosing spells were known to the Vikings, and the miracle occurs among those of Jesuits persecuted under Queen Elizabeth.
{254} There is a gap in the text. Three deeds of Dionysus must have been narrated, then follows the comment of Zeus.