Page:First book of the Iliad; Battle of the frogs and mice; Hymn to the Delian Apollo; Bacchus, or, the Rovers; second book of the Iliad (IA firstbookofiliad00home).pdf/86

For him in golden cup the almighty one
Bright nectar pours, and gives the draught to drain,
Betokening thus his well-beloved son;
Hereat the gods resume their thrones again;
Then, holy Leto, laughs thy soul for joy,
That thou heaven's Archer-king hast borne, thy gallant boy.

Hail queen thrice blest, all hail! for thou hast been
Mother of children beautiful and fair,
Of bright Apollo and the shaft-joy'd queen,
Her on Ortygia whilom didst thou bear,
Him on cragg'd Delos¹, lapp'd on Cynthus' mount,
Fast by the palm that shades Inopus' river-fount².

But how, great lord of song, thy glories sing!—
Mark of all nature's minstrelsy³,—for all
Earth's grassy mainlands and gemm'd islets ring
Thy praise, each beacon-hill and foreland tall,
And seaward hurrying streams, and cliffs that sleep
On the salt wave, and all the havens of the deep.

Sing we how Leto thee, the pride of man,
On Cynthus couch'd, in Delos' rocky isle,
Bare, her firstborn!—and how encircling ran
The blue wave o'er its pebbly beach the while
Curl'd by the gusty breeze;—forth starting thence
O'er far-off nations stretch'd thy vast omnipotence.