Classic Poem

‘Meanwhile young Hermes in his cradle listening
Laughed to himself amid the fragrant clothes;
Then suddenly he cried, with bright eyes glistening,
“Come, let us swear a peace with solemn oaths.
Ye nymphs, get water ready for my christening,
To quarrel is a thing my spirit loathes.
Archer Apollo, list my babyish prattle:
With thee I clearly am unfit to battle.”