THE FIRST HYMN OF CALLIMACHUS by MATTHEW PRIOR

WHILE we to Jove select the holy victim,
Whom apter shall we sing, than Jove himself,
The god for ever great, for ever king,
Who slew the earth-born race, and measures right
To Heaven's great habitants! Dictaean hear'st thou
More joyful, or Lycaean, long dispute
And various thought has traced. On Ida's Mount,
Or Dicte, studious of his country's praise,
The Cretan boasts thy natal place: but oft
He meets reproof deserved: for he presumptuous
Has built a tomb for thee, who never knowst
To die, but livst the same to-day and ever.
Arcadian therefore be thy birth: Great Rhea
Pregnant to high Parrhasia's cliffs retired,
And wild Lycaeus, black with shading pines.
Holy retreat! Sith hence no female hither,
Conscious of social love and nature's rites,
Must dare approach, from the inferior reptile
To woman, form divine. There the blest parent
Ungirt her spacious bosom, and discharged
The ponderous birth. She sought a neighbouring spring
To wash the recent babe; in vain. Arcadia,
(However streamy) now adust and dry,
Denied the goddess water; where deep Melas,
And rocky Cratis flow, the chariot smoked,
Obscure with rising dust; the thirsty traveller
In vain required the current, then imprisoned
In subterraneous caverns. Forests grew
Upon the barren hollows, high o'ershading
The haunts of savage beasts, where now Iaon
And Erimanth incline their friendly urns. Thou too, O Earth, great Rhea said,
bring forth;
And short shall be thy pangs. She said, and high
She reared her arm, and with her sceptre struck
The yawning cliff: from its disparted height
Adown the mount the gushing torrent ran,
And cheered the valleys: there the heavenly mother
Bathed, mighty king, thy tender limbs: she wrapped them
In purple bands; she gave the precious pledge
To prudent Neda, charging her to guard thee,
Careful and secret: Neda, of the nymphs
That tended the great birth, next Philyre
And Styx, the eldest. Smiling, she received thee,
And conscious of the grace, absolved her trust:
Not unrewarded; since the river bore
The favourite virgin's name; fair Neda rolls
By Leprion's ancient walls, a fruitful stream.
Fast by her flowery banks the sons of Arcas,
Favourites of Heaven, with happy care protect
Their fleecy charge; and joyous drink her wave.
Thee, god, to Cnossus Neda brought: the nymphs
And Corybantes thee, their sacred charge,
Received: Adraste rocked thy golden cradle:
The goat, now bright amidst her fellow stars,
Kind Amalthea, reached her teat distent
With milk, thy early food: the sedulous bee
Distilled her honey on thy purple lips.
Around, the fierce Curetes (order solemn
To thy foreknowing mother!) trod tumultuous
Their mystic dance, and clanged their sounding arms;
Industrious with the warlike din to quell
Thy infant cries and mock the ear of Saturn.
Swift growth and wondrous grace, O heavenly Jove,
Waited thy blooming years; inventive wit,
And perfect judgment, crowned thy youthful act.
That Saturn's sons received the three-fold empire
Of Heaven, of ocean, and deep hell beneath,
As the dark urn and chance of lot determined,
Old poets mention, fabling. Things of moment
Well nigh equivalent and neighbouring value
By lot are parted: but high Heaven, thy share,
In equal balance laid 'gainst sea or hell,
Flings up the adverse scale, and shuns proportion.
Wherefore not chance, but power, above thy brethren
Exalted thee, their king. When thy great will
Commands thy chariot forth; impetuous strength,
And fiery swiftness wing the rapid wheels,
Incessant; high the eagle flies before thee.
And oh! as I and mine consult thy augur,
Grant the glad omen; let thy favourite rise
Propitious, ever soaring from the right.
Thou to the lesser gods hast well assigned
Their proper shares of power; thy own, great Jove,
Boundless and universal. Those who labour
The sweaty forge, who edge the crooked scythe,
Bend stubborn steel, and harden gleening armour,
Acknowledge Vulcan's aid. The early hunter
Blesses Diana's hand, who leads him safe
O'er hanging cliffs, who spreads his net successful,
And guides the arrow through the panther's heart.
The soldier, from successful camps returning
With laurel wreathed, and rich with hostile spoil,
Severs the bull to Mars. The skilful bard,
Striking the Thracian harp, invokes Apollo,
To make his hero and himself immortal.
Those, mighty Jove, meantime, thy glorious care,
Who model nations, publish laws, announce
Or life or death, and found or change the empire.
Man owns the power of kings; and kings of Jove.
And, as their actions tend subordinate
To what thy will designs, thou giv'st the means
Proportioned to the work; thou seest impartial,
How they those means employ. Each monarch rules
His different realm, accountable to thee,
Great ruler of the world: these only have
To speak and be obeyed; to those are given
Assistant days to ripen the design;
To some whole months; revolving years to some;
Others, ill-fated, are condemned to toil
Their tedious life, and mourn their purpose blasted
With fruitless act, and impotence of council.
Hail! greatest son of Saturn, wise disposer
Of every good! Thy praise what man yet born
Has sung! or who that may be born shall sing!
Again, and often hail! indulge our prayer,
Great father! grant us virtue, grant us wealth:
For without virtue, wealth to man avails not;
And virtue without wealth exerts less power,
And less diffuses good. Then grant us, gracious,
Virtue and wealth; for both are of thy gift.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...