A HYMNE TO HERMES.
69
Seene any other, that felloniously
Hath forc't your Oxen. Strange thing! what are those
Oxen of yours? Or what are Oxen? knews
My rude minde, thinke you? My eares onely touch
At their renowne; and heare that there are such.
This speech he past; and euer as he spake
Beames from the hayre, about his eye-lidds brake;
His eye-brows, vp, and downe cast; and his eye
Euery way look't, askans, and careleslie.
And he, into a loftie whistling fell;
As if he idle thought, Apollo's spell.
Apollo (gently smiling) made Replie;
O thou Impostor! whose thoughts euer lye
In labour with Deceipt! For certaine, I
Retaine Opinon; that thou, (euen thus soone)
Hast ransackt, many a House; and not in one
Nights-worke alone; nor in one Countries neither
Hast beene beseeging, House and Man togehter;
Rigging, and rifeling all waies; and no Noise
Made with thy soft feete, where it all destroies.
Soft therefore, well; and tender thou maist call
The feet that thy stealths, goe, and fly withall.
For many a field-bredd Herdsman, (unheard still)
Hast thou made drowne, the Cauerns of the Hill
Where his Retreates lie, with his helplesse teares;
When any flesh-stealth thy desire end cares;
And thou encountrest, either flocks of sheepe
Or Herds of Oxen! vp then! doe not sleepe
Hath forc't your Oxen. Strange thing! what are those
Oxen of yours? Or what are Oxen? knews
My rude minde, thinke you? My eares onely touch
At their renowne; and heare that there are such.
This speech he past; and euer as he spake
Beames from the hayre, about his eye-lidds brake;
His eye-brows, vp, and downe cast; and his eye
Euery way look't, askans, and careleslie.
And he, into a loftie whistling fell;
As if he idle thought, Apollo's spell.
Apollo (gently smiling) made Replie;
O thou Impostor! whose thoughts euer lye
In labour with Deceipt! For certaine, I
Retaine Opinon; that thou, (euen thus soone)
Hast ransackt, many a House; and not in one
Nights-worke alone; nor in one Countries neither
Hast beene beseeging, House and Man togehter;
Rigging, and rifeling all waies; and no Noise
Made with thy soft feete, where it all destroies.
Soft therefore, well; and tender thou maist call
The feet that thy stealths, goe, and fly withall.
For many a field-bredd Herdsman, (unheard still)
Hast thou made drowne, the Cauerns of the Hill
Where his Retreates lie, with his helplesse teares;
When any flesh-stealth thy desire end cares;
And thou encountrest, either flocks of sheepe
Or Herds of Oxen! vp then! doe not sleepe
