This golden bowl with generous juice was crown'd, The first libation sprinkled on the ground; By turns on each celestial power they call; 650 With Phoebus' name resounds the vaulted hall. The courtly train, the strangers, and the rest, Crown'd with chaste laurel, and with garlands dress'd, While with rich gums the fuming altars blaze, Salute the god in numerous hymns of praise. Then thus the king: 'Perhaps, my noble guests, These honour'd altars, and these annual feasts To bright Apollo's awful name design'd, Unknown, with wonder may perplex your mind. Great was the cause: our old solemnities 660 From no blind zeal or fond tradition rise; But saved from death, our Argives yearly pay These grateful honours to the god of day. 'When by a thousand darts the Python slain, With orbs unroll'd lay covering all the plain, (Transfix'd as o'er Castalia's streams he hung, And suck'd new poisons with his triple tongue), To Argos' realms the victor god resorts, And enters old Crotopus' humble courts. This rural prince one only daughter bless'd, 670 That all the charms of blooming youth possess'd; Pair was her face, and spotless was her mind, Where filial love with virgin sweetness join'd: Happy! and happy still she might have proved, Were she less beautiful, or less beloved! But Phoebus loved, and on the flowery side Of Nemea's stream the yielding fair enjoy'd. Now, ere ten moons their orb with light adorn, Th' illustrious offspring of the god was born; The nymph, her father's anger to evade, 680 Retires from Argos to the sylvan shade; To woods and wilds the pleasing burden bears, And trusts her infant to a shepherd's cares. 'How mean a fate, unhappy child! is thine! Ah! how unworthy those of race divine! On flowery herbs in some green covert laid, His bed the ground, his canopy the shade, He mixes with the bleating lambs his cries, While the rude swain his rural music tries, To call soft slumbers on his infant eyes. 690 Yet ev'n in those obscure abodes to live Was more, alas! than cruel fate would give; For on the grassy verdure as he lay, And breathed the freshness of the early day, Devouring dogs the helpless infant tore, Fed on his trembling limbs, and lapp'd the gore. Th' astonish'd mother, when the rumour came, Forgets her father, and neglects her fame; With loud complaints she fills the yielding air, And beats her breast, and rends her flowing hair; 700 Then, wild with anguish, to her sire she flies, Demands the sentence, and contented dies.