λύρῃ δ᾽ ἐρατὸν κιθαρίζων
στῆ ῥ᾽ ὅ γε θαρσήσας ἐπ᾽ ἀριστερὰ Μαιάδος υἱὸς
Φοίβου Ἀπόλλωνος: τάχα δὲ λιγέως κιθαρίζων
γηρύετ᾽ ἀμβολάδην — ἐρατὴ δέ οἱ ἕσπετο φωνή — κραίνων
ἀθανάτους τε θεοὺς καὶ γαῖαν ἐρεμνήν,
ὡς τὰ πρῶτα γένοντο καὶ ὡς λάχε μοῖραν ἕκαστος.
Μνημοσύνην μὲν πρῶτα θεῶν ἐγέραιρεν ἀοιδῇ,
μητέρα Μουσάων: ἣ γὰρ λάχε Μαιάδος υἱόν:
τοὺς δὲ κατὰ πρέσβιν τε καὶ ὡς γεγάασιν ἕκαστος
ἀθανάτους ἐγέραιρε θεοὺς Διὸς ἀγλαὸς υἱός,
πάντ᾽ ἐνέπων κατὰ κόσμον, ἐπωλένιον κιθαρίζων.
τὸν δ᾽ ἔρος ἐν στήθεσσιν ἀμήχανος αἴνυτο θυμόν,
καὶ μιν φωνήσας ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα:
423-435 Then the son of Maia, harping sweetly upon his
lyre, took courage and stood at the left hand of Phoebus Apollo; and
soon, while he played shrilly on his lyre, he lifted up his voice and
sang, and lovely was the sound of his voice that followed. He sang the
story of the deathless gods and of the dark earth, how at the first they
came to be, and how each one received his portion. First among the gods
he honoured Mnemosyne, mother of the Muses, in his song; for the son of
Maia was of her following. And next the goodly son of Zeus hymned the
rest of the immortals according to their order in age, and told how each
was born, mentioning all in order as he struck the lyre upon his arm.
But Apollo was seized with a longing not to be allayed, and he opened
his mouth and spoke winged words to Hermes:
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