I sing of Cyllenian Hermes, the Slayer of Argus, lord of
Cyllene and Arcadia rich in flocks, luck-bringing messenger of the
deathless gods. He was born of Maia, the daughter of Atlas, when she had
made with Zeus,--a shy goddess she. Ever she avoided the throng of the
blessed gods and lived in a shadowy cave, and there the Son of Cronos
used to lie with the rich-tressed nymph at dead of night, while
white-armed Hera lay bound in sweet sleep: and neither deathless god nor
mortal man knew it.
And so hail to you, Son of Zeus and Maia; with you I have
begun: now I will turn to another song!
Hail, Hermes, giver of grace, guide, and giver of good things!
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