72. 
Within the heart of great Apollo—­he
Listened with all his soul, and laughed for pleasure. 
Close to his side stood harping fearlessly 565
The unabashed boy; and to the measure
Of the sweet lyre, there followed loud and free
His joyous voice; for he unlocked the treasure
Of his deep song, illustrating the birth
Of the bright Gods, and the dark desert Earth:  570

73. 
And how to the Immortals every one
A portion was assigned of all that is;
But chief Mnemosyne did Maia’s son
Clothe in the light of his loud melodies;—­
And, as each God was born or had begun, 575
He in their order due and fit degrees
Sung of his birth and being—­and did move
Apollo to unutterable love.

74. 
These words were winged with his swift delight: 
’You heifer-stealing schemer, well do you 580
Deserve that fifty oxen should requite
Such minstrelsies as I have heard even now. 
Comrade of feasts, little contriving wight,
One of your secrets I would gladly know,
Whether the glorious power you now show forth 585
Was folded up within you at your birth,

75. 
’Or whether mortal taught or God inspired
The power of unpremeditated song? 
Many divinest sounds have I admired,
The Olympian Gods and mortal men among; 590
But such a strain of wondrous, strange, untired,
And soul-awakening music, sweet and strong,
Yet did I never hear except from thee,
Offspring of May, impostor Mercury!

76. 
’What Muse, what skill, what unimagined use, 595
What exercise of subtlest art, has given
Thy songs such power?—­for those who hear may choose
From three, the choicest of the gifts of Heaven,
Delight, and love, and sleep,—­sweet sleep, whose dews
Are sweeter than the balmy tears of even:—­ 600
And I, who speak this praise, am that Apollo
Whom the Olympian Muses ever follow: 

77. 
’And their delight is dance, and the blithe noise
Of song and overflowing poesy;
And sweet, even as desire, the liquid voice 605
Of pipes, that fills the clear air thrillingly;
But never did my inmost soul rejoice
In this dear work of youthful revelry
As now.  I wonder at thee, son of Jove;
Thy harpings and thy song are soft as love. 610

78. 
’Now since thou hast, although so very small,
Science of arts so glorious, thus I swear,—­
And let this cornel javelin, keen and tall,
Witness between us what I promise here,—­
That I will lead thee to the Olympian Hall, 615
Honoured and mighty, with thy mother dear,
And many glorious gifts in joy will give thee,
And even at the end will ne’er deceive thee.’