37. 
’Here are the footsteps of the horned herd
Turned back towards their fields of asphodel;—­
But THESE are not the tracks of beast or bird,
Gray wolf, or bear, or lion of the dell,
Or maned Centaur—­sand was never stirred 290
By man or woman thus!  Inexplicable! 
Who with unwearied feet could e’er impress
The sand with such enormous vestiges?

38. 
‘That was most strange—­but this is stranger still!’
Thus having said, Phoebus impetuously 295
Sought high Cyllene’s forest-cinctured hill,
And the deep cavern where dark shadows lie,
And where the ambrosial nymph with happy will
Bore the Saturnian’s love-child, Mercury—­
And a delightful odour from the dew 300
Of the hill pastures, at his coming, flew.

39. 
And Phoebus stooped under the craggy roof
Arched over the dark cavern:—­Maia’s child
Perceived that he came angry, far aloof,
About the cows of which he had been beguiled; 305
And over him the fine and fragrant woof
Of his ambrosial swaddling-clothes he piled—­
As among fire-brands lies a burning spark
Covered, beneath the ashes cold and dark.

40. 
There, like an infant who had sucked his fill 310
And now was newly washed and put to bed,
Awake, but courting sleep with weary will,
And gathered in a lump, hands, feet, and head,
He lay, and his beloved tortoise still
He grasped and held under his shoulder-blade. 315
Phoebus the lovely mountain-goddess knew,
Not less her subtle, swindling baby, who

41. 
Lay swathed in his sly wiles.  Round every crook
Of the ample cavern, for his kine, Apollo
Looked sharp; and when he saw them not, he took 320
The glittering key, and opened three great hollow
Recesses in the rock—­where many a nook
Was filled with the sweet food immortals swallow,
And mighty heaps of silver and of gold
Were piled within—­a wonder to behold! 325

42. 
And white and silver robes, all overwrought
With cunning workmanship of tracery sweet—­
Except among the Gods there can be nought
In the wide world to be compared with it. 
Latona’s offspring, after having sought 330
His herds in every corner, thus did greet
Great Hermes:—­’Little cradled rogue, declare
Of my illustrious heifers, where they are!

43. 
’Speak quickly! or a quarrel between us
Must rise, and the event will be, that I 335
Shall hurl you into dismal Tartarus,
In fiery gloom to dwell eternally;
Nor shall your father nor your mother loose
The bars of that black dungeon—­utterly
You shall be cast out from the light of day, 340
To rule the ghosts of men, unblessed as they.