A HYMNE TO HERMES.
67
His heart affect. But to Phœbus, lay,
His close Heart, open: And he, likewise, knew
The braue Hyll-Hymph there; and her deare Sonne, new-
Borne; and as well wrapt, in his wiles, as weed's.
All the close shroud's too, for his Rapinous deedes,
In All the Caue, he knew: and with his key
He open'd three of them; In which there lay
Siluer, and Gold-heapes; Nectar infinite store;
And Deare Ambrosia; and of weedes she wore,
(Pure white, and Purple) A rich Wardrobe shin'de;
Fir for the blest States, of powrs so diuin'de.
All which discouerd; Thus to Mercurie
He offerd Conference: Infant? you that lie
Wrapt so in swath-bands; Instantly unfold
In what conceald Retreats of yours you hold
My Oxen stolne by you; Or strait we shall
Iarr, as beseemes not, powrs Celestiall.
For I will take, and hurle Thee to the Deepes
Of dismall Tartarus; where ill Death keepes
His gloomie, and inextricable fates;
And to no Eye, that light Illuminates,
Mother, nor Father, shall returne thee free,
But vnder Earth, shall Sorrow fetter thee,
And few repute thee, their Superiour.
On him replied, Crafts subtlest Counsailor;
What cruell speech, hath past Latona's Care!
Seekes he his stolne-wilde-Cows, where Deities are?
I haue nor seene, nor heard; nor can report;
His close Heart, open: And he, likewise, knew
The braue Hyll-Hymph there; and her deare Sonne, new-
Borne; and as well wrapt, in his wiles, as weed's.
All the close shroud's too, for his Rapinous deedes,
In All the Caue, he knew: and with his key
He open'd three of them; In which there lay
Siluer, and Gold-heapes; Nectar infinite store;
And Deare Ambrosia; and of weedes she wore,
(Pure white, and Purple) A rich Wardrobe shin'de;
Fir for the blest States, of powrs so diuin'de.
All which discouerd; Thus to Mercurie
He offerd Conference: Infant? you that lie
Wrapt so in swath-bands; Instantly unfold
In what conceald Retreats of yours you hold
My Oxen stolne by you; Or strait we shall
Iarr, as beseemes not, powrs Celestiall.
For I will take, and hurle Thee to the Deepes
Of dismall Tartarus; where ill Death keepes
His gloomie, and inextricable fates;
And to no Eye, that light Illuminates,
Mother, nor Father, shall returne thee free,
But vnder Earth, shall Sorrow fetter thee,
And few repute thee, their Superiour.
On him replied, Crafts subtlest Counsailor;
What cruell speech, hath past Latona's Care!
Seekes he his stolne-wilde-Cows, where Deities are?
I haue nor seene, nor heard; nor can report;
