Hermes strapped the beautiful sandals onto his feet,
Immortal, made of gold, which bore him across the wet seas
And endless expanses of land as swift as the breath of the wind.
He took along the wand with which he lulls to sleep the eyes
Of any man he pleases—or awakens those who are sleeping.
Holding it in his hands, mighty Argos-Slayer flew off.
Swooping down, he set foot on Pieria; then he plunged into the seaAnd skimmed along the breakers like nothing so much as a tern,Which drenches its thick plumage in the brine as it hunts for fishDown through the troughs of the breakers on the restless wastes of the sea.That is how Hermes looked as he darted through wave after wave.When he reached the island at last—it lies off at a great distance—He emerged from the violet-dark sea and then made his way ontoDry land, until he reached an enormous cave where the nymphOf the beautiful braids had her dwelling. There, inside, he found her.An enormous fire was burning upon the hearth. The aromaOf blazing splits of wood—cedar, juniper—Drifted all overIn song and wove back and forth at her loom with a golden shuttle.A luxuriant growth of trees spread out all around the cave,Alder and black poplar and sweet-smelling cypress as well,And the birds inside them were sleeping, their wings outstretched,Little horned owls and hawks, as well as cormorants,Their chattering tongues stretched out—birds who work the sea.
