Or, if we list, speak truths without a veil.” So said the daughters of the mighty Jove, Sooth-speaking maids: and gave unto my hand A rod of marvellous growth, [147]a laurel-bough Of blooming verdure; and within me breathed A heavenly voice, that I might utter forth All past and future things: and bade me praise The blessed race of ever-living gods: And ever first and last the Muses sing. Away then—why [148]this tale of oaks and rocks? Begin we from the Muses oh my song! They the great spirit of their father Jove Delight in heaven: their tongues symphonious breathe All past, all present, and all future things: Sweet, inexhaustible, from every mouth That voice flows on: the Thunderer’s palace laughs With scatter’d melody of honied sounds From the breathed voice of goddesses, and all The snow-topp’d summits of Olympus ring, The mansions of immortals. They send forth Their undecaying voice, and in their songs Proclaim before all themes the race of gods From the beginning: the majestic race, Whom earth and awful heaven endow’d with life: And all the deities who sprang from these, Givers of blessings. Then again they change The strain to Jove, the sire of gods and men: Him praise the choral goddesses: him first And last: with rising and with ending song: How excellent he is above all gods, And in his power most mighty. Once again They sing the race of men, and giants strong; And soothe the soul of Jupiter in heaven. They, daughters of high Jove: Olympian maids: Whom erst Mnemosyne, protecting queen Of rich Eleuther’s fallows, in embrace With Jove their sire amidst [149]Pieria’s groves Conceived: of ills forgetfulness; to cares Rest: thrice three nights did counsel-shaping Jove Melt in her arms, apart from eyes profane Of all immortals to the sacred couch Ascending: and when now the year was full, When moons had wax’d and waned, and reasons roll’d, And days were number’d, she, some space remote From where Olympus highest towers in snow, [150]Bare the nine maids, with souls together knit In harmony: whose thought is only song: Within whose bosoms dwells th’ unsorrowing mind. There on the mount they shine in troops of dance, And dwell in beautified abodes: and nigh The Graces also dwell, and Love himself, And hold the feast. But they through parted lips Send forth a lovely voice; they sing the laws Of universal heaven; the manners pure Of deathless gods, and lovely is their voice. Anon they bend their footsteps tow’rds the mount, Rejoicing in their beauteous voice and song Unperishing: far round the dusky earth Rings with their hymning voices, and beneath Their many-rustling feet a pleasant sound Ariseth, as tumultuous pass they on To greet their heavenly sire. He reigns in heaven,