whose busy feet
    Troop to his wine-vats in fair summer-time. 
    Yea, all these acres wise Augeas owns,
    These corn-clad uplands and these orchards green,
    Far as yon ledges whence the cataracts leap. 
    Here do we haunt, here toil, as is the wont
    Of labourers in the fields, the livelong day. 
    But prythee tell me thou—­so shalt thou best
    Serve thine own interests—­wherefore art thou here? 
    Seeking Augeas, or mayhap some slave
    That serves him?  I can tell thee and I will
    All thou would’st know:  for of no churlish blood
    Thou earnest, nor wert nurtured as a churl: 
    That read I in thy stateliness of form;
    The sons of heaven move thus among mankind.”

    Then answered him the warrior son of Zeus. 
    “Yea, veteran, I would see the Epean King
    Augeas; surely for this end I came. 
    If he bides there amongst his citizens,
    Ruling the folk, determining the laws,
    Look, father; bid some serf to be my guide,
    Some honoured master-worker in the fields,
    Who to shrewd questions shrewdly can reply. 
    Are not we made dependent each on each?”

      To him the good old swain made answer thus: 
    “Stranger, some god hath timed thy visit here,
    And given thee straightway all thy heart’s desire. 
    Hither Augeas, offspring of the Sun,
    Came, with young Phyleus splendid in his strength,
    But yesterday from the city, to review
    (Not in one day) his multitudinous wealth,
    Methinks e’en princes say within themselves,
    ‘The safeguard of the flock’s the master’s eye.’ 
    But haste, we’ll seek him:  to my own fold I
    Will pilot thee; there haply find the King.”

      He said and went in front:  but pondered much
    (As he surveyed the lion-skin and the club,
    Itself an armful) whence this stranger came;
    And fain had asked.  But fear recalled the words
    That trembled on his lip, the fear to say
    Aught that his fiery friend might take amiss. 
    For who can fathom all his fellow’s mind?

      The dogs perceived their coming, yet far off: 
    They scented flesh, they heard the thud of feet: 
    And with wild gallop, baying furiously,
    Ran at Amphitryon’s son:  but feebly whined
    And fawned upon the old man at his side. 
    Then Heracles, just lifting from the ground
    A pebble, scared them home, and with hard words
    Cursed the whole pack; and having stopped their din
    (Inly rejoiced, nathless, to see them guard
    So well an absent master’s house) he spake: 

      “Lo! what a friend the royal gods have given
    Man in the dog!  A trusty servant he! 
    Had he withal an understanding heart,
    To teach him when to rage and when forbear,
    What brute could claim like praise?  But, lacking wit,
    ’Tis but a passionate random-raving thing.”