Of Hermes sing, O Muse, the son of Zeus and Maia,
lord of Kyllene and Arcadia abounding with sheep,
helpful messenger of the immortals, whom Maia bore,
the fair-tressed and revered nymph, when she mingled in love
with Zeus; she shunned the company of the blessed gods
and dwelt inside a thick-shaded cave, where Kronion,
escaping the eyes of immortal gods and mortal men,
mingled with the fair-tressed nymph in the darkness of night,
while sweet sleep overcame white-armed Hera.
But when the mind of great Zeus accomplished its goal,
and the tenth moon was set fast in the sky,
a newborn saw the light, and uncanny deeds came to pass.
Then she bore a child who was a shrewd and coaxing schemer,
a cattle-rustling robber, and a bringer of dreams,
a watcher by night, and a gate-keeper, soon destined
to show forth glorious deeds among the immortal gods.
Born at dawn, by midday he played his lyre,
and at evening he stole the cattle of far-shooting Apollon,
on the fourth of the month, the very day mighty Maia bore him.

After he sprang forth from his mother's immortal limbs,
he did not remain for long lying in his holy cradle,
but he leaped up and searched for the cattle of Apollon,
stepping over the threshold of the high-roofed cave.
There he found a tortoise and won boundless bliss,
for Hermes was the first to make a singer of a tortoise,
which met him at the gates of the courtyard,
grazing on the lush grass near the dwelling
and dragging its straddling feet; the helpful son of Zeus
laughed when he saw it and straightway he said:

"Already an omen of great luck! I don't despise you.
Hail, O shapely hoofer and companion at the feast!
Your sight is welcome! Whence this lovely toy,
the gleaming shell that clothes you, a tortoise living on the mountains?
I shall take you and bring you inside for handsome profit.
And I shall not dishonor you for you will serve me first
Better to be inside; being outdoors is harmful for you.
Indeed alive you shall be a charm against baneful
witchcraft; then again if you die, your song could be beautiful."

Thus he spoke and with both hands he raised it up
and ran back into his abode, carrying the lovely toy.
There he tossed it upside down and with a chisel of gray iron
he scooped out the life of the mountain-turtle.
As when swift thought pierces the breast
of a man in whom thick-coming cares churn,
or as when flashing glances dart from quick-rolling eyes,
so glorious Hermes pondered word and deed at once.
He cut measured stalks of reed and fastened them on
by piercing through the back of the shell of the tortoise;
He skillfully stretched oxhide round the shell
and on it he fixed two arms joined by a crosspiece
from which he stretched seven harmonious strings of sheep-gut.

And when it was finished, he held up the lovely toy
and with the plectrum struck it tunefully, and under his hand
the lyre rang awesome. The god sang to it beautifully;
as on the lyre he tried improvisations, such as young men do
at the time of feasts when they taunt and mock each other.
He sang of Zeus Kronides and fair-sandaled Maia,
and how they once dallied in the bond of love,
recounting in detail his own glorious birth.
He also praised the handmaidens, the splendid home of the nymph,
and the tripods throughout her dwelling, and the imperishable cauldrons.

That is what he sang, but other matters engaged his mind.
He carried the hollow lyre and laid it down
in the holy cradle, and then craving for meat
he leaped from the fragrant dwelling and went forth scouting,
pondering some bold wile in his mind, such as men
who are bandits pursue when dark night falls.
Helios was plunging down from the earth into the ocean
with his horses and chariot, when Hermes in haste
reached the shaded mountains of Pieria,
where the divine cattle of the blessed gods had their stalls
and grazed on the lovely untrodden meadows.
Then the son of Maia, sharp-eyed Argeiphontes,
cut off from the herd fifty head of loud-lowing cattle.
Through the sandy place he drove them on a beguiling route,
turning their hoofprints round. Mindful of the artful ruse,
he reversed their hoofs, setting the front part backward
and the back part frontward and opposite to his own course.

[Meanwhile, Hermes fashions special sandals to obscure his footprints, starts the first fire with fire-sticks, slaughters some cows, roasts the first sausage, and returns to his crib. Apollo realizes what has happened and goes in search of the thief...]

And Apollon, son of Zeus, speedily rushed
to holy Pylos in search of his shambling cows,
his broad shoulders enveloped in a purple cloud.
The Far-Shooter saw the tracks and said these words:

"Heavens! A truly great wonder I see with my eyes.
These no doubt are the tracks of straight-horned cows,
but they are turned backwards toward the flowery meadow.
These tracks belong neither to man nor to woman,
nor yet to gray wolves, nor bears, nor lions.
And I do not think they are those of a shaggy-maned centaur-
whoever has taken such monstrous swift strides.
Wondrous on this side of the road, they are yet more wondrous on the other."

With these words lord Apollon, son of Zeus, rushed
and reached the mountain of Kyllene, overgrown with trees,
and the deep-shaded, rocky hiding place where the divine
nymph gave birth to the son of Zeus Kronion.
A delightful odor permeated the holy mountain,
and many long-shanked sheep grazed on the grass.
Then Apollon himself in haste stepped down
the stone threshold and into the gloomy cave.

When Zeus and Maia's son saw Apollon,
the Far-Shooter, angered about his cattle,
he snuggled into his sweet-scented swaddling-clothes;
and as ashes cover a heap of embers from tree-trunks,
so Hermes wrapped himself up when he saw the Far-Shooter.
Into a small space he huddled head, hands, and feet,
like a freshly bathed baby courting sweet sleep,
but in truth still awake and holding the lyre under his arm.
The son of Zeus and Leto did not fail to recognize
the beautiful mountain nymph and her dear son,
though he was a tiny child steeped in crafty wiles.
He peered into every niche and nook of the great dwelling,
and he took a shining key and opened three vaults
filled with nectar and lovely ambrosia;
inside them lay much gold and silver
and many purple and silver-white garments of the nymph,
such as the holy dwellings of the blessed gods contain.

Then when he had searched the recesses of the great dwelling,
the son of Leto addressed glorious Hermes with these words:
"O child lying in the cradle, hurry up and tell me about the cows!
Else you and I will soon part not like two gentlemen.
I will cast you down and hurl you into gloomy Tartaros
and into dread and inescapable darkness; and neither your mother
nor your father will restore you to light but beneath the earth
you shall wander as lord of tiny babyfolk."

And Hermes addressed him with calculated words:
"Son of Leto, are not these harsh words you have spoken?
And are you here in search of roving cattle?
I have neither seen, nor found out, nor heard another man's word;
and I will neither tell, nor get the reward for telling.
I surely do not resemble a hardy rustler of cattle,
and this is no deed of mine, as I have cared for other matters:
I have cared for sleep, and milk from my mother's breast,
and for swaddling-clothes wrapped round my shoulders, and a warm bath.
May no one find out how this quarrel came to be!
For it would be a great wonder among the immortals
as to how a newborn baby through the doorway passed
with cattle dwelling in the fields; the claim is preposterous!
I was born yesterday, and the ground is rough for my tender feet.
If you wish, I will swear the great oath by my father's head.
I vow that I myself am not the culprit
and that I have seen no one else stealing your cows-
whatever these cows are; for I hear only rumors."
So he spoke and, with many a darting glance,
he moved his eyebrows up and down and looked hither and thither,
and with a long whistle he listened to the story as to an idle tale.

Far-shooting Apollon laughed gently and addressed him:
"Friend, I do think you are a scheming rogue,
and the way you talk you must often have bored your way
into well-built houses and stripped many men of their possessions,
as you quietly packed away their belongings.
You will be a pain to many shepherds dwelling outdoors
in mountain glades, when you come upon their herds of cattle
and fleecy sheep, driven by a craving for meat.
But come, lest this be your last and final sleep,
come down from the cradle, you comrade of dark night.
From now on you shall have this honor among the immortals,
to be called the chief of robbers all your days."

With these words Phoibos Apollon took up and carried the child.
And then mighty Argeiphontes pondered in himself
and, as he was lifted in Apollon' s arms, sent forth an omen,
a hardy effort of the belly and a reckless messenger.
And on top of that he swiftly sneezed, and Apollon
heard it and dropped glorious Hermes down on the ground.
And, although he was intent on his journey, he sat beside him
and chiding Hermes he addressed him with these words:
"Never fear, swathed child of Zeus and Maia.
Even later I shall find the precious cows
by these omens, and you shall lead the way."


[Apollo and Hermes ask Zeus to resolve the conflict, but he insists that the brothers sort things out on their own...]

Then Hermes went to the rocky cave
and drove out of it the precious cattle.
And Apollon looked aside and noticed the cowhides
on a steep rock, and quickly asked glorious Hermes:
"How could you, you clever rogue, have slaughtered two cows,
being still a newborn infant? Even I myself
look back and admire your strength; no need for you
to grow up for long, O Kyllenian son of Maia."

Thus he spoke, and with his hand he twisted mighty shackles
made of withes. But they swiftly took roots into the earth
and under his feet, as though grafted onto that spot,
and easily entwined each other and all the roving cows,
by the will of thievish Hermes, as Apollon
gazed in wonder. Then mighty Argeiphontes,
fire darting from his eyes, looked askance at the ground
longing to hide. Then he easily soothed the far-shooting
son of glorious Leto, exactly as he wished,
mightier though Apollon was. Upon his left arm he took
the lyre and with the plectrum struck it tunefully, and under his hand
it resounded awesomely. And Phoibos Apollon laughed
for joy as the lovely sound of the divine music
went through to his heart and sweet longing seized him
as he listened attentively. Playing sweetly on the lyre,
the son of Maia boldly stood to the left
of Phoibos Apollon and to the clear-sounding lyre
he sang as one sings preludes. His voice sounded lovely,
and he sang of the immortal gods and of black earth,
how they came to be, and how each received his lot.

Of the gods with his song he first honored Mnemosyne,
mother of the Muses, for the son of Maia fell to her lot.
And the glorious son of Zeus honored the immortals
according to age, and as each one had been born,
singing of everything in due order as he played the lyre on his arm.

But a stubborn longing seized Apollon' s heart in his breast,
and he spoke to him and addressed him with winged words:
"Scheming cattle-slayer, industrious comrade of the feast,
your performance is worth fifty cows;
I think we will settle our accounts at peace.
But come now, tell me this, inventive son of Maia.
Have these wondrous deeds followed you from birth,
or has some mortal man or deathless god
given you this glorious gift and taught you divine song?
Wondrous is this new-uttered sound I hear,
and such as I think no man or deathless god
dwelling on Olympos has ever yet learned,
except for you, O robber, son of Zeus and Maia.
What skill is this? What music for inescapable cares?
What virtuosity? For surely here are three things to take
all at once: good cheer, love, and sweet sleep.
I, too, am a follower of the Olympian Muses,
who cherish dance and the glorious field of song
and the festive chant and the lovely resonance of flutes.
But no display of skill by young men at feast
has ever touched my heart in this manner.
Son of Zeus, I marvel at your charm when you play the lyre.
Now, though you are little, your ideas are remarkable,
sit down, friend, and have regard for the words of your elders.
There will indeed be renown for you among the immortals,
for you and your mother. I will speak concretely:
yes, by the cornel spear, I shall truly make you
a glorious and thriving leader among the immortals,
and I shall give you splendid gifts without deception to the end."

And Hermes replied to him with calculated words:
"You question me carefully; Far-Shooter, and I
do not begrudge your becoming master of my skill.
You shall know it today I want to be gentle to you
in my words of advice-your mind knows all things well.
For, noble and mighty as you are, O son of Zeus, your seat
is first among the immortals, and wise Zeus loves you,
by every sacred right, and has granted you splendid gifts.
And they say, O Far-Shooter, that from Zeus and his divine voice
you learn the honors, the prophet's skills, and all god-given revelations.
I myself have come to know that you have all these in abundance.
You may choose to learn whatever,
but since your heart longs to play the lyre,
sing and play the lyre and minister to gay festivities;
receive this skill from me and, friend, grant me glory.
Sing well with this dear-voiced mistress in your arms,
since you have the gift of beautiful and proper speech.
From now on in carefree spirit bring it to the well-provided feast,
the lovely dance, and the revel where men vie for glory.
as a fountain of good cheer day and night. Whoever
with skill and wisdom expertly asks, to him
it will speak and teach him all manner of things
joyful to the mind, being played with a gentle touch,
for it shuns toilsome practice. But if anyone should
in ignorance question it at first with rudeness,
to him in vain it will chatter high-flown gibberish forever.
You may choose to learn whatever you desire;
I will make a gift of it to you, glorious son of Zeus.
For my part, O Far-Shooter, I will graze the roving cattle
on the pastures of the mountain and the horse-nurturing plain,
where the cows are mounted by the bulls to give birth
to males and females at random. And though your mind
is set on profit, there is no need for you to rage with anger."

With these words he offered him the lyre, and Apollon took it,
and put in Hermes' hand a shining whip,
and commanded him to be a cowherd. The son of Maia accepted
joyfully. And the glorious son of Leto, far-shooting
lord Apollon upon his left arm took the lyre
and struck it tunefully with the plectrum. It resounded
awesomely under his hand, and the god sang to it with grace.
Then both of them turned the cows toward
the divine meadow, and the beautiful children of Zeus
rushed to return to snowy Olympos,
delighting in the lyre; and thus wise Zeus rejoiced
and brought them together in friendship. For his part, Hermes
always loved the son of Leto as he does even now,
and he gave the lovely lyre as a token
to the Far-Shooter, who played it on his arm expertly.
And Hermes again invented the skill of a new art,
for he made the blaring pipes which can be heard from afar.