Thoughts, which in all those many minds may be:--
Thus much alone I certainly can say,
I tilled these vines till the decline of day,

35.
'And then I thought I saw, but dare not speak _270
With certainty of such a wondrous thing,
A child, who could not have been born a week,
Those fair-horned cattle closely following,
And in his hand he held a polished stick:
And, as on purpose, he walked wavering _275
From one side to the other of the road,
And with his face opposed the steps he trod.'

36.
Apollo hearing this, passed quickly on--
No winged omen could have shown more clear
That the deceiver was his father's son. _280
So the God wraps a purple atmosphere
Around his shoulders, and like fire is gone
To famous Pylos, seeking his kine there,
And found their track and his, yet hardly cold,
And cried--'What wonder do mine eyes behold! _285

37.
'Here are the footsteps of the horned herd
Turned back towards their fields of asphodel;--
But THESE are not the tracks of beast or bird,
Gray wolf, or bear, or lion of the dell,
Or maned Centaur--sand was never stirred _290