Thereafter sped I o'er the fruitful plains
Of Thessaly, and to Boeotia's towns,

Then to that fairest land Athene loves . . .
And then I ranged among the Dorian folk
And those who dwell adjacent, whence at last
To steep Cyllene's windy heights I come.
Wherefore, if any shepherd, husbandman,
Or charcoal-burner chance to be at hand,
Or any of the nymph-born Satyr-breed
Which haunts the hills, to all I thus proclaim :
Here ready lies the boon prepared for him
Who finds the filcher of Apollo's kine.

Silenus. O Phoebus, I have heard thy voice upraised In words of proclamation, and apprised

Of their import with that celerity

An old man still commands, eager to be

Thy favoured benefactor, forth I set,

That haply I may hunt the quarry down.

Then let my victory be noised abroad,

And me be crowned with this thy golden meed.
Yea, I will call my lynx-eyed sons to aid,

If thou wilt but perform thy promises.

Ap. The prize is ready; only make good thy word.
Sil. I'll find the cattle; make thou good the prize.
Ap. The finder gains it, whosoe'er he be.

Sil. We'll seek in company, and share the spoil.
Ap. Succeed, and I will add a further boon.

Sil. What is it? What new guerdon meanest thou?

Ap. Ye shall be free, thou and thy progeny.

Chorus of Satyrs. Hither, hither come away, Follow where the footprints stray !

Hullo, hullo!

Follow, follow!

Ho there, ho there, thee I call;

Track the thief down, each and all,

Track him to his hidden lair,

Seek him, seek him everywhere!

Hark! our father cheers us on!
How was this sly stealing done
Under cover of the night?

Whither have they turned their flight?

Haply, if we now succeed,

Sons and father shall be freed,

And the kindly god our toils

Shall relax, who to our gaze
Here displays

Earnest of the golden spoils.

Sil. Fortune divine, and thou, the deity
Who guidest steps aright, grant me success
Upon this quest wherein my course is set,
To track the quarry and the plunder down
For Phoebus, of the stolen kine bereft :
The which if any man hath seen or heard,
By telling it my gratitude he'd earn,
And be lord Phoebus' benefactor too.
I offer for the news due recompense.
Chor. Who hath seen, or who hath heard?
Let him speak, and take reward.

Sil. Doth any man profess to be informed?
Then we ourselves, it seems, must set to work.

Come now, let every one seek round about,
Following whatever scent the breezes waft,
Bending his knees and scanning all the ground.
So let the search go forward, that at last

It may be brought to profitable issue.

(The CHORUS now divide into two or more search-parties.)
Half-Chor. A god, a god, a god, a god! Let be !
We seem to have them; hold! Do not advance!

Half-Chor. These are the footprints of the stolen kine.
Half-Chor. Silence! a god leads forth our colony.

Half-Chor. How now, friend? Is our task performed aright? How say the trackers opposite?

For in these marks alone the proof lies clear.

Half-Chor. See, see, again the very hoofs' imprint !

Half-Chor. Aye, look, the very measurement and span !
Half-Chor. Run quickly on the trail and listen well,

If any ear may catch the noise of kine.

(A noise.)

Half-Chor. I cannot hear their voices clearly yet,
But here the foot-marks, here the very track

Of those lost kine lie manifest to view.

Half-Chor. Let be! By Zeus, the footprints are reversed! They look the other way! See here! What's this?

What is the manner of their ordering?

The front becomes the rear, others again

Are mixed and turned in opposite directions;

A strange confusion held the driver's mind.

Sil. What then is this new art of yours, what's this?

'Tis strange to hunt stretched thus upon the ground.

What is your method? I am all abroad.

Prone as a hedgehog in a copse ye lie,

Or stooping like an ape pollute the air.

What means it? Where on earth were ye taught this?

Tell me, for such ways are without my ken.

(The noise caused by the lyre of HERMES in the cave below is continued:

the CHORUS retreat in sudden panic.)

Chor. Hu, hu, hu, hu!

Sil. What means this cry?

Whom do ye fear or see?

What is the awful sight? why rave ye thus?

There was some noise here: would ye know its cause?
Why are ye silent, ye who erst were loud?

Chor. Be silent, pray!

Sil. What is it there that ye keep turning from?

Chor. Ah, listen now!

Sil. How can I listen when I hear no voice?

Chor. Do as I ask!

Sil. My search will ne'er be profited by you.

Chor. Listen again awhile to this strange thing,

A noise such as no mortal heard before,

Whereby we here stand dumbstruck and confounded.

Sil. Why do ye cower and shrink before a noise,
Uncleanly bodies fashioned out of wax,

Vilest of creatures, who in every shadow

Behold some terror, ever full of fear,

Slack, heedless, undevoted servitors,

Mere flesh, all talk and lust, professing faith,

But when the time comes, flying from the deed!
Can ye be sons, ye wretches, of that sire
Whose youthful prowess many a trophy set
Before his brides' abodes, whose wont was not
To turn his back in flight, nor be subdued,
Who shrank not at the noise of hill-fed herds,
But was a man of doughty deeds; and now
Their lustre is besmirched by what ye do

At some new cheating noise which shepherds make,
And ye, like children, fear ere ye have proved it,
Abandoning the hope of golden wealth

That Phoebus held before us and confirmed,
The ending of our bondage which he promised
To you and me: these ye let fall, and sleep.
Unless ye now pursue and track me down
These cattle with their cowherd, ye yourselves
Shall raise a noise-the noise that cowards ought.
Chor. Father, stand by and be thyself our guide,
And thou shalt see if any play the coward;
Soon shalt thou know that this reproach is nought.
Sil. Yea, I will keep at hand and urge you on,
Sounding the whistle that speeds on the hounds.
Come, take your stand upon the branching roads,
And I will stay and guide your erring steps.
Chor. Ha, ha! Pst, pst! Hu, hu!

Tell me, what do you do?
Why vainly mutter and cry?
Why look at me thus awry?
What is this first to be won?
I have you! No, he is gone!
You are my prisoner, come!
Hither now! What have ye heard?
Was it a snake or a bird?
A fair wind carries us fast.

You are here! You have passed!
Far with thee will I roam,

Come what come may !
Who is this rider, say!

Here's the track, hither, this way!
Marching, marching, follow me on!
What are you doing? Begone, begone!
Here are the kine, here our task;

Do not delay it, I ask.

How have you helped on the quest?

This is the one who seeks best.

See, he follows right orderly!

Follow, follow, follow with me!

Fie for shame! Thou sluggard, awake!
Soon of our labours an end we'll make;
Freedom is ours, ours for ever,

Chor. It cannot be; but do thou please thyself,
Seek, follow up the trail and find the kine,
Enrich thyself with gold: we are resolved
To spend no further time in waiting here.
Sil. Nay, never will I suffer you to leave
Or to renounce the task, before we learn
What it is hidden in this cave below.

Chor. Thou within, come forth and tell
What is this amazing sound!
So will we reward thee well,
Plenty's gifts shall here abound.

Sil. He'll never show himself to them; but I
With many leaps and kicks upon the ground
Will raise a din which quickly should compel
A hearing, though he were as deaf as stone.

(SILENUS stamps and beats loudly above the cave; CYLLENE appears; SILENUS retreats hastily to the rear.)

Cyll. Satyrs, why came ye rushing noisily

To this green wooded hill, where wild things roam?
What is this new device? What means this change
From those pursuits wherewith ye pleased your lord,
Who, clad in skin of fawns and bearing high
The lightly-wielded thyrsus, ever used
To lead the shout Evoe! around the god,
By daughter-nymphs begirt and thronging sons?
But whither now these gusts of sudden frenzy
Whirl you, I know not. "Tis a riddle! I heard
At once such cries as huntsmen make who come
Upon some wild brood pent within their lair,
And intermixed sped arrows from the tongue
Against some thief escaping with his spoils,
And proclamations offering rewards.
Then this was drowned by yet another noise,
With kicks of many feet hard by my dwelling.
Hearing such strange discordant sounds as these,
Had I none other senses than mine ears,

I should have said ye all were seized with madness.
How will ye next misuse a harmless nymph?

Chor. Lovely nymph, thine anger stay!

Hate and strife lie far away.

No unfriendly word from me,

No vain taunt, shall ruffle thee.

So revile us not, but this

Graciously disclose, what is

Here concealed below the ground,

Making such an awesome sound?

Cyll. Ah, this is now a gentler mood than erst,

Thus seeking will ye learn more easily

Than by bold feats or rude attempts upon
A timid, helpless nymph. I like it not,
So to engage upon shrill strife of words.
Come, tell it calmly and reveal to me
What is your chief desire in coming here.

Chor. Mighty Cyllene, lady of these hills,
Soon shalt thou learn the purpose of our coming.
But tell us first about this voice's sound,
And who of mortals speaks therewith his thought.
Cyll. Well, first must this be clearly understood,

That, if ye should disclose these words of mine,
The penalty from you will be exacted.

It is a secret in the gods' abodes

Lest tidings of the deed reach Hera's ear.
Zeus came to Maia's hidden dwelling-place,
Forgetful of his own deep-bosomed spouse,
And in a lonely cave begat a son,

Who now within these arms of mine is nursed;
For sickness overcomes his mother's strength.
Wherefore by day and night I watch his cradle,
Giving the tendance which an infant needs,
Supplying food and soothing him to rest.
And lo, he daily grows beyond the span
Of nature, so that fear and wonder seize me.
Not full six days have passed since he was born,
And yet he presses on to boyhood's stature,
His shoot springs ever upward, knowing not
A pause; such is the child stored here within,
Who at his sire's behest lies yet concealed.
And that dread voice ye ask of, ringing out
From instrument unseen, a single day
Beheld him fashion from an upturned box.
So sweet a vessel hath he thus devised
From a dead beast, and makes resound below.
Chor. Stranger story ne'er was heard;

Was it then a child who stirred

Such a fearsome sound as this?

What a wondrous feat is his !

Can you mean a new-born boy
Fashioned this unheard-of toy?

From the dead dry skin and bones

Brought to birth these living tones?

Cyll. Be not faithless! Faithful are the words divine which greet your ear.
Chor. How can I believe a dead thing speaks with voice like this I hear?
Cyll. Nay, believe! In life he spake not, but in death a voice he found.
Chor. Tell us, what was his appearance? Was he long or short or round?
Cyll. Short and rounded like a pot, with dappled skin all shrivelled hard.
Chor. Was he something like a cat in girth, or rather like a pard?
Cyll. Something more or less between, short in the legs and circular.
Chor. Is he not then like a lizard; would he with a crab compare?
Cyll. No, he is not such as these; another likeness please to find.
Chor. Does he then perhaps recall a beetle horned, of Etna's kind?
Cyll. Now at last ye know his semblance, from the truth ye are not wide.
Chor. Say what is the part that sounds, the inner or the outer side.
Cyll. 'Tis the outer covering of skin, near kinsman of a shell.

66

Chor. What name doth he bear? Supply it, if thou hast aught more to tell Cyll. Tortoise "" names the boy the beast, and "lyre" he calls the sounding part.

Chor. How then was the part made vocal, how attuned, by what new art? Cyll. First the shell he hollowed cleanly, then he stretched thereon a skin From a cow flayed, which resounding spreads abroad this ringing din.

(A few lines are lost, in which the description of the lyre was continued; the word 'pegs," on which the strings were fastened, is to be recognised. CYLLENE proceeds :)

Here in pain his one assuagement, here his only solace lie;
He delights in this mad joy, and singing songs in harmony.
Highly is his soul exalted by the lyre, his cunning toy;
To a dead beast thus a voice was given by an infant boy.