Book II

THERE were there steadings of cattle, and Amykus' farms were there,Proud king of Bebrykian men, whom erst a wood-nymph bare;For Bithynian Meliê couched with Poseidon the Lord of Birth.Overweening was this their son above all the children of Earth,Who even on wayfaring strangers his tyrannous ordinance laidThat they should not depart from his land till that trial of prowess were madeAgainst him with the fist: and neighbours full many he smote that they died.And now to the galley he came; but he scorned in the height of his prideTo inquire of them wherefore they voyaged, or ask what men were they:But with sudden defiance he challenged them all, and thus did he say:

'Sea-rovers, hearken the thing that is meet and right ye should know.This is the ordinance--none may depart, from my country to go,Even none who hath come to Bebrykia's folk out of alien lands,Or ever against mine hands he hath lifted in battle his hands.Choose for you therefore the mightiest man of all your array,And set ye him here for the strife of the fist against me this day.But and if ye shall shrink from the trial, and trample my laws underfoot,Verily mighty constraint shall pursue you with bitter pursuit.'

So spake he in pride overweening, and came upon them as they heardFierce anger, but most by his threatening vaunt Polydeukes was stirred.Straightway he stood for his fellows' champion forth, and he cried:

'Peace!--threaten not us, whatsoever the name that hath puffed thee with pride,With brutal mishandling:--yea, unto these thy laws will we bow.Even I right willingly offer me--lo, I will meet thee now.'

Roundly he spake; and with rolling eyes glared on him the kingAs a lion javelin-smitten, when out on the mountains the ringOf the hunters hemmeth him round; but, albeit encompassed aboutBy the throng, he heedeth them not, but his glance ever searcheth him out,Him only, which wounded him first, yet quelled him not with the stroke.Then Tyndareus' son laid by his goodly-woven cloakOf delicate threads, a gift of remembrance for sweet days pastOf a daughter of Lemnos. His mantle's dark folds Amykus cast,With the clasps thereof, to the ground, and the shepherd's staff that he bore,The rugged olive his hand from the windy hill-slope tore.Then looked they, and chose for the combat a spot that was good in their sight;And all their companions they bade sit down to left and to right.Then stood they forth, nor in form nor in stature alike to behold:But the one might be seed of Typhôeus the fell, or a monster of old,Ay, even as one of the giant brood of Earth, which she bareTo wreak upon Zeus her wrath: but Tyndareus' son showed fairAs the star of the heaven, whose loveliest beams through the fading blueShine in the eventide, when the wings of the night drop dew.Even such was the child of Zeus, and the soft down bloomed on his chin,And bright were his dancing eyes: but waxed his breast withinHis fury and might like a wild beast's rage; and he struck out fastWith his hands, making trial if swift were their play, as in days overpast,Uncramped by the stress of toil and the strain of the weary oar.But Amykus proved not his limbs, but he glared on his foe evermoreStanding in silence aloof, and he yearned in eager moodTo smite and bespatter the hero's breast with the spurting blood.And between them Lykôreus, Amykus' henchman, cast on the groundIn front of their feet the fighting-gauntlets with thongs overbound,Strips of the raw hide, dry, all ridged with wrinkles were they.Then unto the hero the giant with arrogant words 'gan say:

'Whichsoever thou wilt, lo, freely and willingly grant I to thee,Without casting of lots, that thou mayst not hereafter murmur at me.Now bind them about thine hands: thou shalt learn, and to others shall tellHow featly I carve the tough bull-hides, how passing wellI wield them withal, to bedabble with blood the jaws of men.'

He spake, but the hero scorned with wrangling to answer again:And he made no ado, but the pair lying nighest his feet, the sameLightly smiling he took. Then unto him Kastor came,And Talaus the mighty, the scion of Bias: they bound on his wristsThe gauntlets in haste, oft bidding him play the man in the lists.And to Amykus Ornytus came and Arêtus; but naught knew they--Fools!--that they girded a doomed man then for his latest fray.

So when they were ready, and forth in the lists stood face to face,Straightway in front of their bodies their brawny hands did they raise.Then closed they, and matched their might in the grim play furiously.And now the Bebrykian king, as a charging wave of the seaWith storm-roughened crest overarcheth a ship, and would surely o'erwhelm,But that scantly she 'scapeth by wisdom of him that swayeth the helm,When over her bulwark to hurl itself mad is the surge of the wave;So followed he hard upon Tyndareus' son to daunt him: he gaveNo respite. The hero by cunning keeping him scatheless ayeBaffled his every rush: well marked he his brutal play,To wot if the giant in might were haply resistless, or no.So ever he faced him and warded, and flashed back blow for blow.And even as when the shipwrights with hammers mightily swingingSmite on the beams of a galley, driving the clamps close-clingingSharply together, that bang upon clang cometh crashing and ringing,And the air is a-shiver; so crack 'neath the buffets the cheeks of the twain,So crash their jaws, and so clatter their teeth as the swift blows rain.Nor flinch they nor falter, but facing each other smite they amain,Till spent are they both, and for laboured panting they needs must refrain.Then standing apart for a little they wiped from their foreheads awayThe streaming sweat, while their deep chests heaved with the toil of the fray.Then each against other again they rushed, as when on the leaTwo bulls for a heifer are fighting in fury of rivalry.Then mid their battle did Amykus up to his full height springLike an ox-slayer straining a-tiptoe--downward the weight did he swingOf his gauntleted hand on the hero; but swerving swift from the strokeBy a turn of his head hath he foiled him, hath caught on his shoulder and brokeIts force,--he hath slipped past the knee of the giant his knee,--he hath rushedWith his whole weight dashing his fist 'neath his ear, and the bones hath he crushed,That for agony down on his knees he sank, and the Minyans' shoutRang; and with one great gasp was the giant's life poured out.

Uprose the Bebrykian men to avenge the wild king's fall:And full upon Polydeukes as one man rushed they allWith rugged clubs and with javelins tossing in furious hands.But his comrades afront of him closed, and they drew their keen-whetted brandsOut of their scabbards: and Kastor the first with the sword-sweep cleftThe head of a foe, as against him he rushed; and to right and to leftUpon either shoulder aslant did the ghastly halves of it fall.Polydeukes o'erthrew the giant Itymoneus, Mimas withal;For, weaponless, one with a sudden leap did he spurn on the breastWith his foot, and in dust he fell; and one, as to conflict he pressed,Over the left brow smote he with swift right hand, and he tareThe eyelid away, that it left the wretch's eyeball bare.And Oreides, Amykus' henchman, a brawny champion,Stabbed with his lance at the flank of Talaus, Bias' son;Howbeit he slew him not, but sliding along the skinThe brass sped under his belt, neither tasted the flesh within.And Arêtus at Iphitus smote with a club of the knotted oak,That Eurytus' scion, the battle-bider, reeled from the stroke.Howbeit not yet was the hero doomed unto deadly bane;Nay, soon was the smiter's self by Klytius' sword to be slain.Then did Ankaius the dauntless son of Lykurgus in hasteSwing up his mighty axe, and around his left arm castThe bear's dark fell for a shield, and amidst the Bebrykian arrayIn fury of onset he plunged, and beside him charged to the frayAiakus' sons, and Jason the valiant leapt to the fight.And as when mid the folds the grey wolves scare in huddled affrightVast throngs of sheep on a wintry day, having rushed on the penBy the keen-nosed dogs unscented, unmarked of the shepherd's ken;And in fury they seek to leap the fence, and to seize the prey,Glaring and glaring, a fierce-eyed ring; and, shrinking awayUpon every side, on each other trample the sheep; even soDrave they in ghastly rout the haughty Bebrykian foe.And as when bee-keepers or shepherds fill with the stifling smokeThe cleft of a rock where dwell the honey-fashioning folk,And the bees for a while all thronging within their cavern-home,Murmur with muffled hum, till, driven at last therefromBy the murky fume, they pour from the crag, and they flee away;Even so not long they abode, but scattered in disarrayThrough Bebrykia bearing the tidings of Amykus' doom did they fly.Fools!--nothing they knew of another woe even then drawn nighAll unforeseen, for their orchards were wasted in that same hour,And amidst of their hamlets did Lykus' ravening spears devour,And the Mariandynians slew, forasmuch as their king was afar,For that aye for the iron-bearing land were the nations at war.So now had the spoilers fallen on garth and byre and fold;While seaward the heroes headed their sheep in throngs untold,And this one to that one cried the while they drave the prey:

'Bethink ye, what price had they paid for their felon folly to-day,If haply a God had but brought our Herakles hither to aid!Ha! surely had he but been here, no trial, I ween, had been madeOf strife with the fists; but so soon as the caitiff drew nigh to proclaimHis ordinance, straightway the club should have made him forget the same,Even as he spake it, yea, and forget the might of his hand.Ah, but we left him, we left him, alone on a desolate strand,And we sailed away oversea:--full soon shall we know, each one,Our baneful folly, seeing our mightiest champion is gone!'

But the counsels of Zeus had wrought all this, beyond their ken.So here through the night they abode, and the hurts of the wounded menThey tended, and slew to the Gods everlasting the sacrifice;And a mighty supper they dight: fell sleep upon no man's eyes,By the bowl as they sat and the blazing altar the long night through,With their golden locks enwreathed with the leaves of a bay that grewHard by the strand, about whose stem was their hawser bound.And to Orpheus' lyre they chanted; their voices' blended soundRang tunefully: all the breathless beach lay tranced with the spellOf the song; for of Zeus of Therapnae's child did the sweet hymn tell.

Over the dusky hills did the light of the new sun leap,As he rose from his far sea-bourn, as he roused the shepherds from sleep.Then from the stem of the bay did the heroes their hawser uncoil,And they laid in the galley so much as sufficed for their need of the spoil;And before the breeze up swirling Bosporus' flood they steered.There steep and high the surge, as a mountain's crown uprearedAfront of the prow, rusheth on them as leapeth a beast on the prey,--Higher, still higher upheaved to the clouds: thou wouldst verily say,'They cannot escape grim doom, for that full o'er the galley's sideSwingeth its madding crest like a cloud!' Yet a bark may rideSafe even o'er such, if she have but a helmsman good at need.And by Tiphys' steering-craft even so did the heroes speedThrough the peril unscathed, yet sore dismayed. So the wild day passed,And the night; and with dawn on Bithynia's shore the anchor they cast.

There hard by the sea had Phineus Agênor's son his abode,Who endured above all men trouble and anguish, a baleful load.For a spirit of prophecy Lêto's son had bestowed of oldOn him; yet he thrust all reverence aside, and to mortals foretoldThe sacred purpose of Zeus, the mind of Heaven's King.Therefore did Zeus requite him with eld long-lingering;And he took from his eyes the pleasant light, and he suffered him notTo have joy of the meats untold which the dwellers around aye brought,What time to his halls they resorted the purpose of heaven to hear.But out of their caverns of cloud ever suddenly swooping anearThe Harpies would snatch them away from his lips and his hands evermoreWith their talons, and whiles was there left unto him of all that storeNo whit, and whiles but a crumb, that for torment his life might be spared.And they poured over all a loathly stench: was none that dared,I say not, to carry thereof to his mouth, but even to standFar off, so foully the remnants reeked of the banquet banned.But now, on his ears as their voices and tramp of their coming brake,He knew that the men were at hand whereof Zeus' oracle spakeThat their coming should bring for him respite, in peace to eat his bread.And he rose from his couch, as a shadowy dream might rise from a bed,Bowed over his staff, and with wrinkled feet 'gan creep to the doorGroping along the walls; and for helplessness trembled soreAnd for age his limbs as he moved, and with filth was his parchèd skinAll leprous, and nought save this enwrapped the bones within.So forth of the hall he came, and he bowed on the threshold-stoneHis weary knees; and a swoon, like a dark pall over him thrown,Enshrouded him; under his feet him seemed that the earth reeled round;And he lay in a strengthless trance, and his lips could frame no sound.And the heroes beheld him, and round about in a throng they pressedAnd marvelled; until at the last the man from the depth of his breastDrew laboured and difficult breath, and uttered his prophecy:

'Hearken, ye noblest of Hellas' sons, if ye verily beThe self-same heroes that Jason leadeth forth on the QuestOf the Golden Fleece in Argo the ship at a King's grim hest.Of a surety ye be: my soul hath knowledge of everythingBy her divination yet. Thanks therefore to thee, O King,O Son of Lêto, I render from depths of affliction and woe!O friends, by the Suppliants' Zeus, who is ever the sternest foeOf transgressors--for Phœbus' sake, and in awful Hêrê's nameI beseech--by the Gods I implore you in whose care hither ye came,Help me: deliver from anguish a most ill-fated man,Neither hasten away uncaring and leave me in bale and ban,As ye find me: for not on mine eyes alone hath the fierce foot trodeOf the Vengeance-fiend, and I drag to the end eld's weary load;But a curse more bitter than all still hangeth over mine head,For the Harpies are wont evermore to snatch from my lips my bread,Swooping adown from a den of destruction, a viewless lair.Neither find I any device for mine help: nay, easier it wereTo escape the ken of mine own heart's thoughts when I crave to be fed,Than theirs; so swift through the welkin on hovering wings are they sped.But if haply ever they leave but a morsel of meat on my board,It reeketh with most unendurable strength of a stench abhorred.No man, no, not for an instant, might dare draw nigh to the same,Not though in his breast were a heart forged all of adamant frame.But me of a surety doth hard compelling of hunger constrainTo abide, and abiding to stay this famine's gnawing pain.But those my tormentors, an oracle saith, shall be made to fleeBy Boreas' sons; neither strangers shall my deliverers be,If indeed I be Phineus, renowned among men in the days long goneFor my wealth and my soothsaying lore, if Agênor called me son,If the sister of these, Kleopatra, when over the Thracians I reigned,Came to mine halls, a bride by a royal bride-price gained.'

So ended Agênor's son, and compassion's o'ermastering painThrilled all the heroes, but chiefly the North-wind's scions twain.Brushing the tears from their eyes they drew nigh him, and Zethes spake;And the hand of the grief-worn sire in his hand with the word did he take:

'O hapless, none other is more afflicted than thou, I trow,Among men!--ah, wherefore on thee is there heaped such a burden of woe?Baleful in sooth was the folly wherewith through thy prophecy-loreAgainst Gods thou transgressedst: for this was their anger exceeding sore.Howbeit our spirit within us, although we be fain, is afraidTo help thee, if on us indeed a God this honour hath laid.For to dwellers on Earth the rebukes of Immortals be plain to discern;And we dare not chase yon Harpies from thee, howsoever we yearnFor thine help, in the hour of their coming, except thou swear to us firstThat for this we shall lose not the high Gods' favour, as men accurst.'

So spake he: the stricken in years uplifted and opened wideHis sightless eyes straightway, and with swift words Phineus replied:

'Hush!--thrust not such thoughts, my son, on a spirit affliction-filled!Be witness Latona's son, who taught to me gracious-willedProphecy-lore; and be witness this mine ill-starred doom,And this dark cloud on mine eyes, and the Gods of the Underworld Gloom,--May their curse, if I die with a lie on my tongue, be upon me for aye!--That on you no wrath of the Gods shall descend for your help this day.'

Then by the oath were they kindled to help him, and fled their fears.And the young men straightway made ready the meat for the stricken in years,--The last ordained for the Harpies' spoil,--and anigh to him stoodThose twain, to smite with the sword those fiends when they swooped on the food.Then first his hands on the meats did he lay, that grey-haired sire:--But sudden as bitter blasts, or as flashes of levin-fire,Unawares from the clouds they had darted, and swooping adown they yelledTheir awful scream, fierce-eager for prey; but the heroes beheld,And shouted amidst of their onrush. The fiends at the challenge of warSwift ravined the meats from the boards, and over the sea afarSoared they away, but there did their foul sick stench remain.Then straightway hard on their track did the North-wind's scions twainUplifting their swords follow after them fast, for with tireless mightZeus filled them: howbeit they had not prevailed to follow their flightBut with Zeus's help, for that faster than Zephyrus' blasts they dartedEvermore, when on Phineus they swooped, and whene'er from the wretch they departed.And as when on the mountain-ridges keen hounds cunning in chaseOn the track of the hornèd goats or the deer hard-following raceSwiftly, and ever a little behind the prey as they strain,Snap at the haunch of the quarry, and clash their teeth in vain;So Zetes and Kalaïs rushed ever nearer with eager grip,Clutched at them, smote at them, missed but by sword-point or finger-tip.Yea, even despite Heaven's will had they rent them limb from limb,Overtaking them far away where the Floating Islands swim,--But Iris the Storm-foot beheld them, and downward she plunged from the skyThrough a whirlwind of air, and with words of restraining aloud did she cry:

'Sons of the North-wind, forefended it is that ye smite with the swordThe Harpies, great Zeus's hounds; but myself will pronounce the wordOf the oath that shall hold them from lighting again on the ancient's board.'

Then spake she the words of the Oath of the Styx, the oath most dreadUnto all the Gods, whose reverence guardeth the words once said,That the Harpies should never thereafter draw nigh unto Phineus' hall,To the home of Agênor's son, for so was it doomed to befall.To the oath then yielded the heroes, and backward they turned their flightUnto the ship; and the Strophads, the Isles of Return, were they hightTherefrom, which of old the Floating Isles had been called of men.And the Harpies and Iris parted, and into their cavern-denIn Krêtê, the land of Minos, they plunged: but Olympus-wardUplifted 'twixt heaven and earth on her swift wings Iris soared.

But the heroes bathed and anointed the skin all fouled and sereOf the ancient the while; and the choice of the fatlings they slew for their cheer,Of the flock which they bare away of the spoil of Amykus dead.So when in the halls a plenteous eventide-feast they had spread,They feasted; and Phineus amidst them was like unto them that dream,As from ravenous hunger he cheered his heart, so strange did it seem.So there, when with meats and with wine they had satisfied all their need,Through the long night kept they vigil, and waited for Boreas' seed.And the ancient sat in their midst in the ruddy glow of the fire;And he told of their voyaging's bourn, and the end of their desire:

'Give ear unto me:--forefended it is that ye hear all throughYour fate:--whatsoe'er seemeth good to the Gods I will hide not from you.Mad was I of yore, when I spake unto Earth's sons Zeus's willIn all points unto the end: for this is his pleasure stillTo reveal unto men his oracles short of the fulness of doom,That so they may lean on the Gods, and faith and prayer have room.

The Rocks Kyanean first, when that gotten ye are from me,In the place where the two seas meet, the Dark Blue Crags, shall ye see.Through that dread pass no pilot, I ween, hath prevailed to go;For rooted they are not to earth on foundations of rock therebelow;But with rush and recoil unceasingly each against other they clash:High over them archeth the crested brine, and the foam-feathers flashFrom the seething cauldron: the precipice-foreland thundereth aye.Wherefore to this my counsel give good heed, and obey,If indeed with prudent soul and with fear of the Gods on highYe essay this Quest, that by doom self-sought ye may not dieAs the fool, nor in rashness of youth essay to rush thereby.First with a bird, with a white-winged dove, shall ye make assay,Speeding her flight from the ship's prow. If she shall win her waySafe 'twixt the Crags of Terror, and out to the open sea,No longer thereafter from daring the selfsame path shrink ye;But grip ye the oars in your hands, and put forth your uttermost mightCleaving the gorge of the sea, for that safety's deliverance-lightShall not be in prayer so much as the strength of your hands and the strain.Wherefore let all else be, and toil ye with might and mainBoldly: but ere then pray as ye list; I say not nay.But and if the death-trap clutch in the midst the dove, and slay,Then sail ye aback; for better by far it is that yeShould yield to the Deathless. The evil fate should ye nowise fleeOf the Rocks--no, not though fashioned of iron your Argo should be.O wretches, dare not to transgress the warning my tongue hath given,Though thrice so much ye account me abhorred of the Dwellers in Heaven--Yea, though it were more than thrice--as I am by my grievous sin,Yet dare not to flout the omen, to thrust your galley therein!And these things shall fall as they haply shall fall. But if scatheless ye shunThe rush of the Clashing Rocks, and the Pontus Sea shall be won,Sailing therefrom, the Bithynians' land to your right shall ye keep,Ever heedfully standing out from the reefs, until ye shall sweepRound the outfall of swift-flowing Rheba, and round the headland dark,And within the haven of Thynê's isle shall anchor your bark.Thence turn ye aback for a little space o'er the long sea-swell,Till ye beach your keel on the strand where the Mariandynians dwell.Thereby is a path through darkness descending to Hades' hall,And the Cape Acherusian towereth upward, a giant wall.And swirling Acheron cleaving the mountain's heart unseenSuddenly poureth forth his flood from a mighty ravine.Thereby many column-hills of the Paphlagonian shoreShall ye pass, the nation whose king was in Enetê born of yore,Even Pelops; and yet do they boast them sprung from his princely line.And a headland there is, looking full where the circling Bear doth shine,A crag exceeding steep, and Karambis it hath to name.The blasts of the North-wind are sundered about the crest of the same,So sheer doth it spring from the sea, so sharply it cleaveth the air.Now when ye have rounded the same, lo, stretcheth before you thereA great beach: far at the end of the gleaming strand's long sweep'Neath a jutting foreland the waters of Halys seaward leapTerribly roaring; and hard thereby doth Iris go,A lesser river, whose swirls soft-rippling gently flow.And onward from thence is the bend of a huge cape towering highUp from the land, and the mouth of the river Thermodon thereby,Where the height Themiskyrian watcheth the sleeping bay at its side,Cometh murmuring still of her journeyings over the mainland wide.There is the plain of Doias, the cities three rise nearOf the Amazon Maids: then they whose lot is of all most drear,The Chalybes, dwell in a rugged land on a stubborn soil,Smithying-craftsmen; in forging of iron ever they toil.And anigh to them dwell Tibarenians, lords of many sheep,Past Zeus the Defender of Strangers, the fane upon Genetê's steep.And next unto these, on their marches, the Mossynœcians dwellIn a land of forests, in many a mountain-cradled dell,Whose homes be in towers of timber, fashioned and carven well.But coast past these, and beach your keel on a smooth isle: thereBeat back with your uttermost cunning the ravening scourge of the air,Those birds, which in countless multitudes haunt, men say, the strandOf the desolate isle;--therein doth a temple of Arês standOf stone, which was built by the queens of the Amazon war-array,Otrêrê and Antiopê, what time they marched to the fray;--For there shall a help for your need from the bitter sea ariseUnlooked-for: wherefore, abide there, with kindly intent I advise.But now what do I, transgressing again?--what need that IShould tell to you every whit of the tale of my prophecy?Onward away from the isle, on the mainland shore's far side,The Philyrans dwell, and beyond the Philyran folk abideThe Makrônes, and next, the Becheirian tribes, a host untold.Next after these the Sapeirians' land shall your eyes behold.Next these the Bezyrans, their neighbours, dwell; and beyond, at last,Even the warrior Kolchians: yet shall ye speed on pastYour galley, till stayed at the uttermost bourn of the sea ye are.There over the mainland Kytaian, from Amaranth mountains afar,And over the plain Kirkaian rolling evermore,His broad flood into the sea doth eddying Phasis pour.Into the selfsame river's mouth your galley bring:Then on the towers shall ye look of Kytaian Aiêtes the king,And the War-god's grove dim-shadowed. And high on a dark oak-treeHangeth the Fleece; and a dragon, a monster fearful to see,Ever glareth around, keeping watch and ward: never dawn doth arise,Neither darkness descendeth, when sweet sleep quelleth his ruthless eyes.'

Even so did he speak: straightway as they heard were they thrilled with fear.Long speechless they sat, till brake at the last that silence drearAison's son, sore wildered that boding of evil to hear:

'O ancient, now hast thou come to the bourn of the toils we must knowOn the sea, and hast told us the token, by trust wherein we may goThrough the baleful rocks, and win unto Pontus: but if once more,If through these we escape, we shall homeward return unto Hellas' shore,Exceeding fain were I this also to learn of thee.How shall I do?--how track such a measureless path o'er the sea,Who am but a youth, and with youths?--and behold, this Kolchian landAt the ends of the earth doth lie, on the great sea's uttermost strand.'

So did he cry; but answered the ancient, and spake yet again:'My son, when once thou hast safely fled through the Rocks of Bane,Fear not, for a God shall show thee another voyaging-trackFrom Aia: yea, after Aia guides shalt thou nowise lack.But, friends, of the guileful aid of the Cyprian Queen take thought;For of her unto glorious issues shall all your toils be wrought.And now of the things yet lying beyond these ask me nought.'

So answered Agênor's son; and lo, those twain stood nigh,The sons of the Thracian North-wind, swooping adown from the sky.On the threshold their swift feet set they; and straight from his carven chairEach hero upsprang, beholding the champions suddenly there.Eager for tidings were they; and Zetes, still as he drewHard breath from the toil of the hunting, told them how far they flewChasing them, told how Iris restrained them at point to slay;Of the oaths which the Goddess gave of her grace; how in sore dismay'Neath Dictê's cliff in a cavern vast they had plunged out of sight.Then were the heroes all in the mansion filled with delightFor the tidings, and Phineus withal. Then spake unto him straightwayAison's son, and with love overflowing his soul 'gan say:--

'Of a surety a God, O Phineus, there was, in compassion that bentTo look on thy grievous affliction, and us from afar he sentHither, that Boreas' sons might drive thy tormentors from thee.Now if he would give but light to thine eyes, such gladness in meWould stir, as though with the Fleece I were come to mine home, I trow.'

He spake, but the head of the ancient sank, and he answered low:'Nay, Aison's son, it is past recall: no dawn shall ariseBalm-breathing on them, for blasted are these my sightless eyes.Nay, death let a God bestow right speedily, rather than this:Then, when I am dead, shall I enter at last into perfect bliss.'

So spake they, and each unto other the answering speech returned.And amidst of their converse in no long space the dawn-flush burnedOf the Child of the Mist: then gathered the neighbours to Phineus' doorWhich in time past day by day wont thither to come evermore;And, despite the curse, from their own a portion of meat each brought.And to all did the ancient--yea, to the poor whose hands bare nought--Speak kindly his oracles; yea, from afflictions many he freedBy his soothsaying: wherefore they came, and they ministered unto his need.And came with the rest Paraibius, he that was dearest of allUnto him, and with joy was he ware of the presences thronging the hall.For the ancient to him long since had foretold that a chieftain-band,Unto Aiêtes' city faring from Hellas-land,On the beach of the Thynian coast should make their hawsers fast,And by these should the Harpies of Zeus be restrained from tormenting at last.So with words of wisdom and love the ancient gladdened each heartEre he let them go; but Paraibius suffered he not to depart,But bade him abide with the chieftains, and sent him, making requestOf his friend to go to the flock, and to bring the goodliestOf the sheep unto him. So when to perform his behest he had sped,To the chieftains gathered there spake Phineus, and lovingly said:

'O friends, not every man is overweening of mood,Neither forgetful of kindness; so loyal of heart and so goodIs yon man. Hither he came on a day to inquire of his fate:For, when never so hard he toiled, sore labouring early and late,Yet ever his need grew greater, his poverty waxed alway,With leanness wasting his frame: day followed on evil dayYet worse: no respite there was to his weariful pain. But hereinWas this man paying the debt of his father's ancient sin.For once on the mountains alone the trees of the forest fellingHe had set at nought the prayers of a Nymph in an oak-tree dwelling.For with earnest entreaty she moaned her request, and besought him with tearsTo spare that trunk which had grown with her growth, wherewith through the yearsOf long generations her life was bound; but in folly and prideOf his youthful arrogance hewed he on: and the Tree-nymph died.Wherefore the Wood-maid caused that her death thereafter should beFor a curse unto him and his children. And I, when he came unto me,Knew of the ancient sin; and an altar I bade him raiseTo the Thynian Nymph, and atonement-victims to give to the blaze,Praying to 'scape from the weird pronounced on his father of yore.Then, when from the doom of the Goddess deliverance came, never moreForgat he me, nor neglected: and sorely against his willFrom my doors do I send him fain to attend mine afflictions still.'

So spake Agenor's son; and straightway returned againHis friend with fatlings twain from the flock. Rose Jason thenAnd rose the North-wind's sons at the ancient prophet's word.Eftsoons called they on the name of Apollo the Prophecy-lord;Then slew they the sheep on the hearth as sloped the sun to the west.And the younger men of their band made ready the plenteous feast.So when they had eaten, they turned to their rest, as each man chose,By the hawsers of Argo these, through the mansion in clusters those.But at dawn the Etesian breezes blew, which o'er every landEqually blow in their season by Zeus's high command.

Kyrênê, 'tis told, in the meads where Peneios' waters rollPastured her sheep in the olden days; for dear to her soulWere her maidenhood and her couch unstained: but, even as she strayedBy the stream with her flock, did Apollo snatch from the earth the maidFrom Haimonia afar, and mid Chthonian Nymphs did he set her down,Where over their Libyan haunts the steeps Myrtosian frown.There did she bear Aristaius, and Phœbus' son did they callIn Haimonia the Shepherd Lord, and the Mighty Hunter withal;For the God of his love to a Nymph transformed her, and made her thereThe Lady of the Land, long-lived: but his child he bare,A babbling infant yet, to be nurtured in Cheiron's cave.And to him, when he grew unto manhood, a bride the Muses gave;And cunning in healing they taught him, with prophecy-wisdom they fed;And their tender of sheep did they make him, that all their flocks he led,In the plain Athamantian of Phthia that pastured, by Othrys' side,And where the sacred streams of the river Apidanus glide.But when Sirius glared on the isles of Minos with scorching blaze,Neither came to the dwellers therein any respite for many days,For this Aristaius they sent, by the Archer-god's command,To avert the plague; and he left at his father's behest the landOf Phthia, and dwelt in Kos, and assembled thither the folkOf Parrhasia, even the people sprung from Lykaon's stock.So to Rain-giver Zeus he builded a mighty altar there,And he offered sacrifice meet to the star of the fiery glareOn the hills, and to Zeus himself the son of Kronos; and soO'er the earth from Zeus the cool Etesian winds yet blowFor forty days: and, or ever the red Dog-star doth rise,The priests in Kos unto this day offer him sacrifice.

So telleth the tale: and there were the heroes constrained to stayLand-bound by the selfsame winds. But the Thynians day by day,Of their love for Phineus, brought to them gifts of abundant cheer.And thereafter unto the Blessèd Twelve did the wanderers rearOn the further strand an altar, and victims offered they thereEre they entered the sea-swift galley to row: yet forgat not to bearIn Argo a trembling dove, but Euphêmus clutched her fastIn his hand, as with terror she shrank and cowered; and so at the lastLoose from the Thynian land the hawsers twain they cast.

Yet not unmarked of Athênê onward again did they fare:Swiftly her feet hath she set on a cloud light-floating in airWhich should waft her along, for she caused that the weight divine it bore.So seaward she swept to the help of the toilers at the oar.And as when one roveth afar from his own land,--oftentimes thusWe men in our hardihood wander, and no land seemeth to usToo far away, but all paths lie within our ken,--And he thinketh upon his home, and all in a moment thenHim seemeth the track over sea and o'er land thereunto lieth plain,And the eyes of his soul in his eager pondering thitherward strain;Even so swiftly the Daughter of Zeus through the welkin hath sped,Till her feet on the perilous strand of the coast Bithynian tread.

So when they were come to the narrow gorge of the winding straitWhere to right and to left stern cliffs pent in that grim sea-gate,Then the swirling rush of the surf dashed, bursting up from below,O'er the ship as she went, and onward in sore dismay did they row.And now the thud of the rocks, as each against other they clashed,Ceaselessly smote on their ears, and thundered the cliffs brine-lashed.Even then Euphêmus uprose firm-grasping the dove in his hand,And on to the prow he strode, and the oarsmen obeyed the commandOf Tiphys Hagnias' son, that they rowed with might and mainTo drive the Argo betwixt the rocks through the perilous lane,Putting their trust in their strength; and the crags, as asunder they leapt,Opening they saw--of all men last--round a bend as they swept.And their spirit was melted within them:--but now Euphêmus hath spedThe flight of the wings of the dove: each man uplifted his head,Watching what now should befall:--on, onward between them, onFlew she; but face to face those charging walls of stoneCame rushing together, and crashed, and the seething brine uproaredVast-volumed like to a cloud; and the madding sea-gulf roaredWith an awful voice, and thundered the welkin wide all round.And out of the caverns under the rugged cliffs the soundOf a hollow rumbling came, as the sea surged inward; and highO'er the cliffs from the dashing waves did the spurts of the white foam fly.The ship broached-to in the wave-rush: shorn by the rocks was the tipOf the dove's tail-feathers; but onward she flew, by the death-gin's gripUnscathed. Loud shouted the oarsmen; and Tiphys cried to them thenTo row with their might, for the crags were parting asunder again.But for trembling they faltered in rowing, until the indraught caughtThe ship in the strength of its sweep back-swinging; and lo, they were broughtBetwixt those rocks. Then fell upon all most ghastly dread,For destruction that none could escape was hanging above each head.Even now through the gap wide Pontus to right and to left was beheld:But all unawares at their bows a mighty surge upswelledOverbowed like a precipice-frown; and they saw as the green arch gleamed,And with cowering heads did they shut their eyes--to their souls it seemedThat down on the ship's whole length it would leap, and overwhelm;But, while yet to the rowing she laboured, did Tiphys' touch on the helmEase her, and under the keel hath it rolled, as leapt the prow:High hath it lifted the stern, and afar hath it swept her nowFrom the rocks, and the galley 'twixt earth and heaven was tossed on high.But Euphêmus strode down the line of the rowers with cheering cryTo bend to the oars with their uttermost might: and they tore through the deepThe blades with a shout. And far as a ship to the stroke will leap,Even twice so far leapt Argo away, and the tough oars bentLike bended bows, such might to the stroke the heroes lent.On-rushing, up-towering, a breaker came, overarched like a cave;But suddenly light as a roller she rode the furious wave.Forward through yawning gulfs she plunged; but caught was her prowBy a whirlpool sea-rush betwixt the Clashers:--on each side nowSwaying forward they thundered, and shivered the hull to the coming shock.Then did Athênê backward thrust one massy rockWith her left hand, touching their bark with her right to speed her through;On, like a wingèd arrow 'twixt billow and air she flew.Yet shorn away was the tip of the galley's arching sternBy the rocks in their clash never-resting. Then did Athênê returnFar up to Olympus soaring, when now their peril was past.But the Crags in the selfsame place that moment were rooted fastEach hard against other for ever, as fated they were to remainBy the Blest, when a man in his ship should have passed therethrough unslain.And now for the first from dismay blood-curdling did those breathe free,Now gazing around on the sky, now o'er the expanse of seaFar stretching away; for they weened that from Hades safe they had fled.Then first of them Tiphys brake that awe-struck hush, and he said:

'Now I deem we have 'scaped it, we and the Argo, in very deed:And herein none other, save only Athênê, hath helped us at need,Who breathed into Argo spirit divine, when Argus the wrightKnit her with bolts, that she could not be trapped in doom's despite.O Aison's son, for the hest of thy king no more fear thou,Since a God hath vouchsafed unto us to flee all scatheless nowThrough yonder rocks: yea, all thy toils which are yet to be doneShall lightly be compassed, as Phineus foretold, Agênor's son.'

So spake he; and forward past the Bithynian land he spedThe ship right on through the midst of the sea. But Jason said--And sad was his voice and low as he answered the hero-chief:--

'Ah, Tiphys, to what end thus wouldst thou hearten me in my grief?I have sinned: with baneful and cureless madness have I transgressed.For I ought, in the very hour when Pelias uttered his hest,To have straightway refused this Quest, yea, though I were doomed to dieBy the hands of tormentors, limb from limb hewn pitilessly.But exceeding dread and cares unendurable now be mine,With haunting fear as I sail the sea's chill paths of brineIn the ship, and with haunting fear wheresoever we set our feetOn the land, for that foes evermore on every shore do we meet.And ever, when past is the day, through a night of sighs I wake,Even from the hour when first ye gathered for Jason's sake,For all things aye taking thought. With a light heart cheerilyThou speak'st, who for nought but thine own life needest to care; but IFor mine own care never a jot; but for this man and that man's bane,And for thee, and for other my comrades I bear this burden of pain,Lest haply never I bring you alive unto Hellas again.'

So spake he, trying the heroes' souls; but with words of cheerShouted they: glowed his heart that gallant chiding to hear.And again he uplifted his voice, and he hailed that hero-crew:

'O friends, your manful spirit hath quickened my courage anew.Wherefore, not though through abysses of Hades my way should be,Will I suffer that dread shall lay hold on my soul, so steadfast do yeAbide amid heart-wringing terror--yea, seeing that now through the straitOf the Clashing Rocks we have sailed, I trow there lieth in waitNo terror hereafter like unto this, if in truth we obeyThe counsel of Phineus the seer, as we track the printless way.'

So spake he; from words of misgiving their lips thenceforth they refrained:But they fell to the ceaseless labour of rowing; and quickly they gainedRheba the swift-flowing river: Kotône's height they descried,And shortly thereafter past the Headland Dark did they glide.Thereby was Phyllêis' outfall, where in the days bygoneIn the halls of his palace Dipsakus welcomed Athamas' son,What time from Orchomenus-city he fled, on the winged ram borne.A Nymph of the Mead was his mother: the tyrant's arrogant scornHe loathed, but contented beside his father's streams dwelt heWith his mother, and pastured his sheep in the meadows beside the sea.And quickly they sighted his shrine, and the broad low banks of the stream,And the plain, and of Kalpê's deep-flowing waters they caught the gleamFor a moment, and passed it by, and still, when the daylight waned,'Neath the stars of the windless night at the tireless oars they strained.And even as ploughing oxen cleaving the rain-soaked soilLabour the furrows adown, and abundant sweat of their toilStreameth from flank and from neck, and aye from beneath the yokeAre the tired beasts turning their eyes askance; and as furnace-smokeIn hot gasps snort they the breath from their mouths; and, deep in the clayThrusting their hoofs, at the plough they tug through the livelong day;So toiled those heroes tugging the oars through the brine alway.

When the dawn divine not yet hath arisen, nor utter nightReigneth, but over the darkness stealeth a faint grey light,--The twilight-tide is it named of slumber-stinted men,--Into a desolate Thynian island's haven thenThey ran, and with weary toil sore-spent won they to the strand.And to them lo, Lêto's son, coming up from the Libyan land,As he fared to the countless folk of the Hyperborean race,Appeared; and his tresses golden-gleaming about his face,Ever, as onward he moved, in the breezes floated and swung.In his left hand held he the silver bow, and his quiver slungFrom his shoulders was gleaming adown his back: and the isle all o'erQuaked 'neath his feet, and surged the billow high on the shore.Then fell on them 'wildered fear as they looked: was none dared turnHis face to gaze with his eyes on the God's eyes lovely and stern.But with heads bowed down to the earth they stood: and onward he passedFaring afar through the air to the sea. Then Orpheus at lastAfter long hush spake, and he cried to the hero-chieftains all:

'Come now, an ye will, this island the Sacred Isle let us callOf Apollo the Dawn-god, seeing at dawning revealed to our eyesO'er the isle he hath passed. Such things as we have let us sacrifice,On the shore upbuilding an altar: and if in the days to comeTo Haimonia-land he vouchsafe us return, safe-speeding us home,Then with the thighs of hornèd goats will we pay our vow.But with sacrifice-steam and libation I bid you propitiate nowThe God. Be gracious, O King manifested!--be gracious thou!'

So did he counsel: an altar with speed 'gan these uppileOf shingle, and those through the island wandered, seeking the whileIf they haply might light on a fawn, or the wild goat's restless broodThat in multitudes seek their pasturage far in the depths of the wood.And Lêto's son unto these gave booty; and carving outThe thighs, on the altar they laid them with fat-folds wrapped about:And they burnt them, hailing Apollo the Lord of the Fair Dayspring.And around the blaze they stood in a wide encompassing ring:

'All hail, fair Healer Apollo! Hail, thou Healer of Bane!'They sang: and amidst them Oeagrius' goodly son hath ta'enThe Bistonian lyre, and uplifted his voice in the clear-ringing lay,Singing how on the rocky flanks of Parnassus once on a dayDelphinê the monster the young God slew with his arrow-flight,When he yet was a beardless youth, rejoicing in locks of light:--

'Be gracious!' he sang, 'Unshorn, O King, be thy tresses aye,Ever unravaged, as Heaven's will is! One only may layLove-lingering hands thereupon, even Lêto Kôeus' child.'And the daughters of Pleistus oft, the Korykian Nymphs of the wild,Caught up the refrain--'Hail, Healer!' their gladdening echoes ring.So born was the lovely hymn that to Phœbus yet men sing.

Then, when with the dance and the song they had honoured the God, they swore,By the holy libations taking the oath, that evermoreThey would stand each one by his fellow, and help in unity.On the victims laid they their hands as they spake; and yet may ye seeA temple to gracious Unity there, which their own hands rearedIn the day that they took for their wayfaring-fellow the Goddess revered.

And now when the dawn of the third day came, a fresh strong windFrom the west upsprang, and they left the island-cliffs behind.Overagainst the mouth of the river Sangarius then,And the land exceeding rich of the Mariandynian men,The streams of Lykus, the mere of Anthemoïsia--theseThey sighted, and ran thereby, and ever the sheets in the breezeQuivered, and all the tackling, as onward they sped their flight.But at dawn--forasmuch as the wind had fallen asleep in the night--Gladly the haven they won of the Acherusian Head.Upward it soareth to heaven with cliffs no foot may tread,Fronting the sea Bithynian; below it the craggy rocksEver lashed by the brine stand rooted: around them with thunder-shocksEver crashes the wallowing surge; and above the turmoil on highWide-spreading planes on the brow of the mountain rest on the sky.And aback of the headland, and sloped therefrom away from the shoreIs a glen in a hollow: therein is a cave, even Hades' Door,With forest and rocks overroofed, and thereout an icy breath,Chill-blowing unceasingly up from unfathomed abysses of death,Freezeth the dews evermore, neither melteth the glistering rimeFrom the leaves, till the hour when the sun to his noonday height doth climb.And o'er that headland grim doth silence never brood,But it murmureth ever with sound confused of the booming floodAnd of leaves that shiver in blasts from the mountain-clefts that blow.There also the outfall is of the river Acheron's flow:Through the heart of the headland bursting it hurleth its flood to the seaEastward, through yawning chasms plunging suddenly.But 'Saviour of Sailors' in days thereafter called they its name,Even Megaran folk of Nisaia, when seeking a home they cameIn the Mariandynian land; for deliverance from peril it gaveUnto them and their ships from the stress of stormy wind and wave.Through the gorge of the cape Acherusian ran the heroes their prow,And seaward-facing abode; for the wind had lulled but now.

Nor long unmarked of Lykus, the lord of the selfsame land,And the Mariandynian folk, they came, that hero-band,The slayers of Amykus, seeing their rumour before them had run:So a league with the wanderers made they because of the great deed done.And, for Prince Polydeukes, they hailed him as though of the Gods he were,Thither flocking from every side; for through many a stormy yearHad they warred with the proud Bebrykians, and faced the battle-blast.So they went up into the city, and all together they passedInto Lykus' palace, and that day through by the meat and the bowlIn all lovingkindness they sat, and with converse gladdened their soul.And Aison's scion his lineage told, and the names of the restOf the hero-helpers withal, and the tale of Pelias' hest;And how the women of Lemnos in kindness dealt with them well;And of all that in Kyzikus, land of the Dolian men, befell;How to Mysia they came, and to Kios, where Herakles lion-souledSore loth they forsook; and the words of the Sea-god Glaukus he told;And how they laid the Bebrykian people and Amykus low;And of Phineus' prophecies told he and all his weary woe;And how they escaped through the Crags Dark-blue, and beheld on the isleLêto's son: and still, as he told all, Lykus the whileHearkened in gladness of soul; but with grief did the heart of him acheFor Herakles left behind, and unto them all he spake:

'O friends, what a hero's help ye have lost for the way ye must goFar-sailing to halls of Aiêtes!--myself have beheld him, and knowWhat manner of man he was; for in Daskylus' halls did he stand,Even here in the halls of my sire, when he marched through the Asian landAfoot, that belt of the battle-revelling queen to win,Hippolytê: then did he find me with youth's soft down on my chin.Here, when Priolaus my brother was unto his grave-mound borne,--Who was slain by our Mysian foes, and for whom the people mournWith exceeding piteous dirges from that day forth,--in the listsAgainst Titias the strong he stood, and prevailed in the strife of the fistsOver him who amidst of our young men never his match had foundIn stature and might: but Herakles dashed his teeth on the ground.Beneath my father's sceptre withal the Mysians he bowed,And the Phrygians, for hard by our marches their fields our foemen ploughed.And the tribes of Bithynians he smote, and won their land by his might,Even to the outfall of Rheba, and unto Kolonê's height.And the Paphlagonians of Pelops yielded, nor faced that foe,Even all round whom Billaios' darkling waters flow.Then came the Bebrykians; and Amykus' lawless tyranny,While Herakles dwelt afar, reft these my possessions from me,Long carving out of my land huge cantles, till stretched the lineOf their bounds to the meads where Hypius' deep-flowing waters shine.But ye made them to pay requital for all: it was not, I wot,But by will of the Gods that war by Tyndareus' son was broughtThat day on Bebrykia's sons, when their champion giant he slew.Wherefore what thanks soever Lykus may render to youWith joy will I render; for meet and right it is that the weak,When the strong for their helping arise, by deeds their thanks should speak.Lo, Daskylus now will I bid that he be of your company,Even my son, and if this man your fellow in wayfaring be,With kindly greeting shall all men hail you, and welcome fainThrough all your way, till the mouth of the river Thermodon ye gain.But to Tyndareus' sons on the Acherusian foreland's steepA temple on high will I rear: far off across the deepShall seafarers mark that fane, and to these in prayer shall they call.Rich fields of the fertile plain will I set apart withalUnto them, as unto the Gods, without the city-wall.'

Even so through the livelong day at the banquet revelled they on.But with dawning down to the strand they hied them, in haste to be gone.Then went with them Lykus, and gifts in their galley to bear gave heWithout number, and sent his son, their voyaging comrade to be.

There did the doom fate-spoken descend upon Abas' son,Idmon, in soothsaying peerless: but safety for him was there noneIn his soothsaying lore, for that now must he die by the doom decreed.For it chanced that there lay in a reedy river's water-mead,Cooling his flanks and his mighty belly wallowed in mire,A wild boar gleaming-tusked, so baleful a monster and direThat of him were the meadow-haunting Nymphs themselves adread.No man knew his lair; alone in the fen wide-stretching he fed.But it chanced unto Abas' son o'er the marshy rises to fareOf the plain, and the beast on a sudden, forth of his unseen lairHigh-leaping out of the reed-bed, gashed in his sidelong rushHis thigh, that the sinews were severed, and snapped was the bone by the tush.With one sharp cry to the earth he fell, and with answering shoutHis comrades ran to the stricken; and Peleus in haste thrust outWith his hunting-spear, as the murderous monster fled to the fen.Then turned he, and charged full on them; but Idas stabbed him then,And harshly screaming he fell impaled on the keen spear-head.There on the earth as he lay, unheeded they left him dead.But their friend to the galley in death-throes gasping his comrades boreSore grieved: but he died in their arms or ever they reached the shore.

Then from their voyaging stayed they, they cared not now to depart:To their dead friend's burial turned they in heaviness of heart.For three whole days they wailed, and their dead, when the fourth day broke,Did they bury as one of the princes; and Lykus and all his folkHad part in the woeful rites; and victims of sheep not a few,As meet and right for the dead it is, by his grave they slew.And a barrow that standeth yet unto this man there did they raise,And a token is there, to be seen by the men of the unborn days,A galley's roller of olive-wood; into leaf doth it breakBut a little below Acherusia's height: and--if I may speakThis too by the power of the Muses that stirreth within my breast--To Bœotian men and Nisaian Apollo spake his behest,Worship to him as unto their city's protector to pay,And around that ancient olive a city's foundations to lay.But by this is tradition dim, and they render the honour-meedUnto one Agamestor, and not unto Idmon, Aiolus' seed.

Now who was the next that died?--for the heroes again in griefAnother earth-mound heaped for another perished chief:Yea, there be memorials twain of the wanderers yet high-reared.Now telleth the tale how Tiphys the Hagniad died; for his weirdWas to voyage no further thereafter; but him, far away from his home,Short sickness hushed into sleep, the endless sleep of the tomb,While yet were the death-rites rendered to Abas' son by the folk:And grief unendurable seized them for this new ruin-stroke.Yea, and when hard by the seer him too they had buried there,On the shore of the sea did they cast them adown in utter despair,Rolled in their mantles from head to foot, all hushed: no partHad meat nor drink in their thoughts; but in bitterness of heartThey spake not, for hope of returning was dead in each man's breast.And for grief had they gone no further, had there made end of the Quest,But that Hêrê enkindled exceeding courage within the soulOf Ankaius, whom Astypaleia, where Imbrasus' waters roll,Bare to the Sea-god, a man most deft in the steering of ships.So now unto Peleus he turned him, and spake with eager lips:

'Is it well done, Aiakus' son, that, forgetting the great work, weOn an alien shore should linger and linger?--I, even heWhom Jason brought on the Quest of the Fleece from Parthenia afar,Have knowledge of ships,--yea, even beyond my cunning in war.Wherefore, as touching the plight of our ship, no whit fear thou.Yea, others in steering deft came hitherward with us, I trow:Whomsoever of these at the helm we set, no hurt shall befallOur seafaring. Haste then, and unto our fellows tell forth all,And unto the high emprise arouse them with heartening word.'

So spake he; the soul of the other with gladness exceeding was stirred.No whit did he tarry, but straight in the midst of them all did he say,

'Ho, friends!--why cherish we thus a bootless sorrow for aye?For I ween these twain by the doom first drawn with their life's lot died:But in this our array there be found with us other helmsmen beside,Yea, many an one: let us put them to proof: make we no stay;But rouse ye unto the deed, and cast your griefs away.'

But in helpless despair unto him did the son of Aison say:'O Aiakus' son, these helmsmen of thine--now where be they?For they which concerning their cunning therein once vaunted loud,Even these yet more than I with vexation of spirit are bowed.For us then, as for the dead, ill doom doth mine heart foretell,Whose lot shall be never to win to the town of Aiêtes the fell,No, neither ever again to pass through the grim sea-gateTo the land of Hellas returning; but now shall an evil fate,As we wax old deedless, enshroud us nameless and fameless here.'

He spake: but Ankaius eagerly proffered himself to steerThe sea-swift ship; for within him the power of the Goddess was strong.Erginus and Nauplius then, and Euphêmus forth from the throngStrode, eager all for the helm: but their comrades drew back these,For that none would they have but Ankaius to guide them over the seas.

So then on the twelfth day hied them adown the Argo's crewAt dawn; for the West-wind now, the mighty wafter, blew.Speedily out of the Acheron's mouth with the oars they passed,And they shook the broad sail forth to the wind, and far and fastWith outspread canvas cleaving the leagues of summer wave,By the outfall of Kallichorus the river swiftly they drave,The place where the child Nysaian of Zeus, as the tale doth tell,When, leaving the tribes of the Indians, in Thêbê he came to dwell,Held revel, and dances in front of the cave did the God arrayWherein, through the nights unsmiling, in hallowed slumber he lay.Wherefore the people called it the River of Dances Fair,And the cavern the Bedchamber, seeing a God once slumbered there.

Thereafter espied they the barrow of Sthenelus, Aktor's son,Who, when from valorous battle against the AmazonHe was turning aback,--for with Herakles thither to war had he hied,--By an arrow was smitten, and there on the surf-lashed sea-strand died.Nor yet for a space did they sail on thence; for Persephonê, wonBy his prayers and tears, sent forth the spirit of Aktor's sonA moment to gaze upon men of passions like to his own.So he mounted the crest of his barrow: on Argo looked he down,Even such to behold as when to the war he went. On his headHis beautiful helm four-crested flashed with its plume blood-red.Then down into blackness of darkness returned he: they looked thereon,And marvelled. Then by the word of prophecy Ampykus' son,Mopsus, caused them to land, and to pay drink-offerings due.So furled they the sail in haste, and the hawsers forth they threw;And there on the strand round Sthenelus' grave-mound gathered they.Drink-offerings they poured, and the fatlings of sacrifice did they slay.And, besides the libations, an altar they built, laying thighs on the blazeTo Apollo the Saviour of Ships; and his lyre did Orpheus upraiseAnd dedicate; wherefore the 'Lyre' from that day called they the place.

Then straight, when the wind blew strong, did they board the galley again,And they dropped the sail from the yard, and the feet thereof did they strainOn either hand with the sheets; and over the sea did she flySwift-racing, as when some hawk through the welkin soaring highTo the breeze committeth his wings, and is borne fast: onward sweepingHe stirreth them not, on restful pinions in mid-heaven sleeping.And lo, by the streams of Parthenius' seaward-murmuring water,Most softly-sliding of rivers, they passed, where Lêto's Daughter,What time from the hunting she cometh, ere up to the heaven she go,In its lovely ripples cooleth her limbs from the summer-glow.Then through the night-tide onward and onward unresting they sped.Past Sêsamus, past the long Erythinian steeps they fled;By Krôbialus and by Krômne, Kytôrus the forest-crowned;Then, as the sun's shafts glanced o'er the waters, swept they aroundKarambis; and still by an endless strand the oars they pliedThrough the livelong day, and on through the night, when the daylight died.

On the shore of Assyria they landed, where Zeus to Sinopê, the childOf Asôpus, had given a home. By his own rash promise beguiledZeus' self bestowed on the maiden the gift of her maidenhood.For he longed for her love, and he promised that, whatsoever she would,He would give her her heart's desire, and he sealed the pledge with his nod:And she in her subtlety asked her maidenhood of the God.So in like wise made she a mock of Apollo, whose soul was fainOf her couch, and of Halys the river withal. Nor did any man gainHis desire, in the arms of love to embrace her, and humble her pride.Now there did noble Trikkaian Deïmachus' sons abide,--Even three, Deïleon, Autolykus, Phlogius withal, were these,--Since the day when they wandered away from the host of Herakles.And these, when they marked draw near the warrior-chiefs' array,Went shoreward to meet them, and told them in all truth who were they.Neither willed they there to abide any longer, but fared with the crewIn Argo, so soon as the cloud-dispelling south-wind blew.So in their company went they borne by the breeze swift-blowing,And Halys the river they left, and Iris beside him flowing,And the river-delta land of Assyria: the selfsame dayThey rounded the headland that sheltered the Amazons' harbour-bay.

Melanippê, Arêtus' child, forth-faring, by ambuscadeOf Herakles there was caught, and her sister Hippolytê paidFor her ransom the Belt of renown, the splendour-gleaming band:So the hero sent her back, and she gat no hurt of his hand.In the harbour that beareth her name, where seaward Thermodon poursRan they ashore, for that contrary now was the wind to their course.That river--on earth there is not his like; there is none that doth spreadOver the land so many streams from his fountain-head.There should lack but four of a hundred, if one should tell them o'erEach after each, and from one true fountain do all these pour.Down from the mountains high to the plains it sendeth its rills,From the heights which be called, men say, the Amazonian Hills.Thence over the hilly country inland-straying they flowEver onward, albeit their paths in manifold windings goThis way and that evermore, wheresoever on low-lying groundThey may light, so roll they along; and this one afar shall be found,And that one anear; and nameless many an one is lostSwallowed up in the sands; and a blended remnant of all that hostInto perilous Pontus plunge with arching crests high-tossed.And, there as they tarried, in battle against the Amazon hordeHad they closed, and in that grim strife had blood been as water outpoured;For all ungentle the Amazons are, neither have they regardUnto justice, the terrible ones who the plain Doiantian ward;But the deeds of the War-god they love, and outrage of tyrannous scorn;For the daughters of Ares they are, of the Nymph Harmonia born:For she bare to the Man-destroyer the battle-revelling maids,When their couch was spread mid the folds of Alkmonian forest-glades:--But again from Zeus 'gan blow the breath of the fair south-wind;So sped by the blast they left the rounded foreland behind,While the Themiskyreian Amazons yet were arming for war:For in one great city assembled they dwelt not, but sundered afarFrom their fellows throughout the land were the tribes of them parted in three;In the one place Themiskyreians, whose queen was HippolytêIn that old time; and there the Lykastians dwelt, and anonDart-hurling Chadisians yonder. The next day sped they on,And at nightfall unto the land of the Chalyban men they won.

That folk drive never the ploughing oxen afield: no partHave they in the planting of fruit that as honey is sweet to the heart;Neither lead they the pasturing flocks over meadows a-glitter with dew:But the ribs of the stubborn earth for the treasure of iron they hew,And by merchandise of the same do they live: never dawning brokeBringing respite of toil unto them, but ever midst mirk of smokeAnd flame at the forge are they moiling and plying the weary stroke.

Round the headland of Zeus the All-begetter swept they then;And safely they sped by the land of the Tibarenian men.When a woman in that land beareth a child to her lord, on his bedDoth her husband cast him adown, and he groaneth with close-swathed headAs in anguish of travail, the while the woman with tender careDoth nurse him and feed, and for him the child-birth bath doth prepare.

The Sacred Mountain thereafter, and that land passed they byWherein the Mossynœcians dwell amid mountains highIn their towers of timber goodly-wrought, and they call the same'Mossyni,' wherefrom moreover the nation hath gotten its name.Strange is the justice of these, and customs uncouth have they.Whatsoe'er we be wont to do before men in the sight of the day,Or the market-stead, all this they perform their houses within;And whatso we do in our chambers apart, they account it not sinWithout, in the midst of the streets of their city, to do unblamed.No modesty have they in love, but as rooting swine unshamed,No whit abashed for the eyes of beholders that stand thereby,On the earth for their bed of love with their women unwedded they lie.In their loftiest block-house sitteth their king, and holdeth his court,Decreeing his righteous judgments to them that thither resort.Ah, luckless wight!--if perchance in his sentence he swerve from the right,Unto prison they hale him, therein to fast till falleth the night.

These passed they by, and well-nigh overagainst the shoresOf the Isle of Ares they cleft them a path with unresting oarsThrough the livelong day, for the gentle breeze in the gloaming died.Then all in a moment one of the War-god's birds they espied,Which haunt that isle, through the welkin darting high overhead;And behold, his pinions he shook, and down on the ship as she spedA feather keen hath he shot: to the leftward shoulder it sprangOf Oïleus: he dropped from his hands his oar at the sudden pangOf the stroke, and they marvelled all when the feather-arrow they saw.But the shaft from the flesh did his rowing-mate Eribôtes draw;And he bound up the wound; for his baldric-band he unclasped, that bareHis sword-sheath hanging beside him. Sweeping on through the airCame another of those fell birds: but already the bow was bentOf the hero Klytius, Eurytus' son: from the string hath he sentA swift-flying arrow against that fowl, and the shaft struck home.Down whirling beside the swift ship splashed the bird in the foam.Then cried Amphidamas Aleüs' son, and thus spake he:

'Nigh to us now is the Island of Ares: ye know it, who seeYon fowl of ravin; and little shall arrows avail us, I trow,To win us a peaceful landing thereon; but contrive we nowSome other device for our help, if indeed we be minded to land,Remembering Phineus' word, and the sightless seer's command.For not great Herakles' self, to Arcadia-land when he came,Availed with his arrows to drive away those birds that swamThe Stymphalian mere: yea, I with mine eyes beheld that thing.But he stood on a crag exceeding high, loud-clatteringWith clash and clang in his hands his brazen battle-gear;And far away did they flee wild-screaming in panic fear.Wherefore contrive we now even such device as his,--Yea, I will speak it, who heretofore have thought upon this:--Set we upon our heads our helmets of lofty crest,And changing about in turn let the half of us row, and the restWith polished lances and bucklers fence the galley about;And all with one accord upraise ye a mighty shout,That the birds by the noise may be scared, by the wild unwonted cry,As they look on our nodding crests and the bright spears tossed on high.And if through the storm of their shafts to the island itself we shall win,Then with clashing of brazen bucklers raise ye a mighty din.'

So spake he, and good in the sight of them all that counsel seemed.On the heads of the heroes straightway the brazen helmets gleamedTerribly flashing; above them tossed the plumes blood-red.And the half of them now in their turn the galley with oars on-sped;And with lances and shields did the rest for Argo a covering raise.And as when with tiling a man hath roofed his dwelling-place,For a beauty upon his abode and a fence from the rain thereto,And close-set each after each are they ranged in order due;Even so did they lock their shields, so roofed they the galley o'er.And as when from a warrior-throng upriseth the onset-roar,When the ranks are sweeping on, when the squadrons in battle close,Even so from the galley on high to the welkin the shout of them rose.Now none of the birds yet saw they: but when, as they touched the strandOf the island, they clashed on their bucklers, straightway on every handFrom the earth by tens of thousands uprose they in sudden dread.And as when by the Son of Kronos the hail thick-falling is shedFrom the clouds on a town and its dwellings; the house-abiders the while,As they hearken the clatter that rattles unceasing on timber and tile,Untroubled are sitting: the stormy tide hath smitten the roofNot unforeseen; long since had they made all tempest-proof:So on the men thick-showering feather-shafts did they pour,As they darted on high o'er the sea to the hills on the farther shore.

Now what was the purpose of Phineus in bidding that hero-arrayLand on the War-god's isle? What help against the dayOf their need were they destined to win of their tarrying there on the way?

The sons of Phrixus unto Orchomenus voyagingHad been sent from Aia forth by Kytaian Aiêtes the king.In a galley of Kolchis they sailed, that the measureless wealth might be theirsOf their sire, for in death had he so commanded these his heirs.And exceeding nigh that day to the isle had they drawn; but lo,The might of the wind of the north did Zeus awaken to blow,Marking with rain the watery path of Arcturus the star.Yet through the day-tide he stirred but the leaves on the mountains afar,Breathing but lightly over the uttermost ends of the sprays:But at night on the sea he descended, a tempest-Titan, to raiseThe surge with his blasts wild-shrieking: a black mist shrouded the sky,And never the gleam of a star might the mariners' ken descryThrough the clouds, but over the sea's face brooded murky gloom.And the sons of Phrixus quaking for fear of a horrible doomWere helplessly hurled o'er the surges, and drenched with the flying spume.And the sail by the might of the blast was snatched away, and crashedTheir ship's hull, shattered in twain by the breakers thereover that dashed.Then by the Gods' own prompting they clutched, and as one man clungThose four to a mighty spar,--for that many an one had been flungWide from the scattered wreck,--firm-knit by the strong bolts' clasp;And on to the isle, evermore but a little beyond death's grasp,The waves and the sweep of the tempest bare them in misery.Then burst forth rain: no tongue could tell it,--it rained on the sea,On the island; and overagainst the island the floods of it fellOver all the land where the lawless Mossynœcians dwell.And along with the massy beam the sweep of the surges boreThe sons of Phrixus on to the island's rocky shoreIn the black dark night. But the floods of Zeus-descended rainCeased with the dawn: and they met full soon, those companies twain.Then Argus first found voice, and to Argo's crew spake he:

'We beseech you by All-beholder Zeus, whosoever ye beOf men, to have mercy and succour us now in our helplessness;For buffeted long have we been on the sea by the rough winds' stress,Till sundered and shattered the beams of our crazy galley were.By your knees we entreat you then, if ye haply will hearken our prayer,To cover our nakedness now, and to take us whither ye go:As youths taking pity on youths, compassionate ye our woe!O reverence ye the strangers and suppliants for Zeus's sake,Who is Lord of the stranger and suppliant--yea, both names we take,Even strangers and suppliants of Zeus; and over us all is his eye.'

But with heedful questioning then did Aison's son reply,For he weened that fulfilment of Phineus' prophecy now was nigh:

'All these will we give straightway with kindly heart and hand.But prithee now answer me truth, and tell how name ye the landWherein ye be dwellers;--for what need thus have ye sailed the sea?And your names of renown tell out, and the lineage whereof ye be.'

Then Argus, as one in despairing wretchedness, answered low:'How Phrixus the Aiolid came unto Aia from Hellas, I trow,Yourselves have certainly heard, have heard ere this the renownOf Phrixus, who came on a day to Aiêtes' fortress-townBestriding the ram which Hermes created all of gold:Yea, and the fleece thereof this day may ye yet behold;For the ram by the beast's own counsel a sacrifice did he giveTo Kronion the Fugitives' Zeus. And him did Aiêtes receiveIn his palace, and gave him to wife his daughter Chalkiopê,Nor for gifts of wooing he asked, in the joy of his heart and the glee.Of these twain we be the children; but Phrixus our father hath died,An old man stricken with years, in Aiêtes' halls of pride.And straightway we, giving heed to the word that our father spake,To Orchomenus journey, Athamas' goods in possession to take.And if, as thy word was, thou wouldst that our names be made known unto thee,Behold, Kytisôrus is this man named, and Phrontis he;And yonder is Melas, and Argus me myself shall ye call.'

He spake, and for this forgathering glad were the heroes all:And they ministered unto them, marvelling much: but Jason againSpake as was meet and right, for his heart of the tidings was fain:

'Lo now, of a surety kinsmen ye are of my sire, which have prayedThat with merciful hearts we would look upon this your affliction, and aid.For of one blood, even brethren, Kretheus and Athamas were;And Kretheus' grandson am I, with these my companions who fareFrom the selfsame Hellas, and unto Aiêtes' city I sail.But of all these things to commune shall another time avail.But now put raiment upon you: it came to pass, I trow,By devising of Gods that ye came to mine hands in your sore need so.'

So spake he, and out of the ship he gave them raiment to don.And all together now unto Ares' fane are they goneFor the sacrificing of sheep, and in all haste round aboutThe altar they ranged them, which stood that roofless fane without,An altar of pebbles: within was a mighty stone upreared,A holy thing, which of yore the Amazons all revered.And it was not their wont, from the further strand when they came o'er the deep,On this same altar to burn in sacrifice oxen nor sheep;But horses they slew, and for this great herds were they wont to keep.There sacrificed they, and they ate of the flesh of the victims slain.Then Aison's son in their midst uprose, and he spake yet again:

'Zeus' self upon all things looketh, nor ever escape we his kenOf a surety, such as be god-revering and righteous men.Even so your father delivered he out of the murderous handOf a stepdame, and gave to him measureless wealth in a far-away land:And even so you also scatheless again did he saveFrom the baleful storm. Now in this ship, whithersoever ye crave,This way or that, may ye fare; or aback unto Aia's shore,Or the wealthy city that godlike Orchomenus builded of yore.For our ship did Athênê fashion, and clave her beams with the brassBy Pelion's crest, and her fellow-craftsman our Argus was.But that your galley was shattered, and whelmed in ruining surge,Ere nigh to the rocks ye came, the which in the wild sea-gorgeEach against other the livelong day are clashing amain.But go to now, be ye helpers with us; for lo, we be fainTo bring that Fleece of Gold to the land of Hellas again.Be our voyaging guides. Lo, thus do I sail to atone for their deedWho would sacrifice Phrixus, and brought Zeus' wrath upon Aiolus' seed.'

So spake he exhorting, and ceased; but with horror they heard that thing,For they deemed they should find Aiêtes nowise a gentle kingWho would win that Fleece of the Ram. Then Argus spake the word,In vexation of spirit that these unto suchlike quest should be stirred:

'O friends, so far as availeth our strength, no whit at allOur help shall fail you at need, what trial soever befall.But terribly armed is Aiêtes with murderous cruelty;Wherefore I dread exceedingly thither to fare oversea.And he vaunteth himself the Sun-god's seed, and around him dwellThe Kolchian tribes untold. In the awful onset-yell,And in giant strength, might he match him with Ares' self in the fray.Nay, nay, not easy it is to take that Fleece awayFrom Aiêtes, so mighty a serpent around and about it is coiled,Deathless and sleepless. The Earth brought forth that dragon-childMid Caucasus' glens, where the Rock Typhonian standeth: they sayThere Typhon, smitten by levin-bolts of Zeus, in the dayWhen against Kronion he lifted his brawny hands in fight,Dropped from his head hot-gushing the gore, and in such ill plightTo the hills and the Plain Nisaian he came, and to this day there'Neath the waters whelmed doth he lie of the dark Serbonian mere.'

So spake he, and many a face of them that heard grew whiteTo know what manner of emprise was this. But spake forthrightPeleus, and answered with words of gallant chiding, and said:

'Nay, good my friend, not thus let thy spirit be over-adread,For that not so lacking in prowess be we, that our hearts should fearTo make trial of manhood against Aiêtes in battle-gear.Nay, but I trow we also have somewhat of cunning in warWhich thitherward fare; for by blood of the kin of the Blessèd we are.If therefore in all lovingkindness he yield not the Fleece of Gold,Little, I ween, shall avail him his Kolchian tribes untold.'

In such wise each unto other they spake, and in such wise replied,Till they turned to their rest, fulfilled of the feast of the eventide.And at dawn, when they wakened from slumber, a light wind softly blew;And they hoised up the sail: in the breeze of the morning the canvas drew.And away from the War-god's Island sped they far and fast;And now at the falling of night by Philyra's island they passed.There Kronos, Ouranos' son, what time in Olympus he reignedO'er the Titans, and Zeus yet a babe in the Cretan Cave was sustainedIn life by the priests, the Curêtes of Ida,--with Philyra layWhen he baffled Rheia's watch; but the Goddess amidst of their playCame suddenly on them: and Kronos leapt from the dalliance-bed,And away in the form of a steed of tossing mane he sped.But Ocean's daughter forsook that land and folk in her shame;And unto the long Pelasgian ridges Philyra came,Where Cheiron the monster, the half of him horse, but otherwhereGoodly to see as a God, for a pledge of love she bare.

Thence past the Makronian people, and past the far-stretching landOf Becheirans they ran, past overweening Sapeirans' strand,And past the Byzêrans thereafter; for forward cleaving the seasWent rushing the prow evermore, on-borne by the gentle breeze.And to them, as they sped by, opened a Pontic gulf cleft deep;And lo, the Caucasian mountains' precipice-wall rose steep--Sheer cliffs; and Prometheus there, with his limbs to the rough rocks grippedBy brazen gyves, whose knots no writhings have riven nor slipped,Fed with his liver an eagle that aye swooped back on the prey.High over their mast at even a whir and a rush heard they;And anigh to the clouds they beheld it: yet even from that far heightDid it shake the sail with the fanning of those vast pinions' flight:For the form and the measure thereof was like no fowl of the air,But as polished oars most huge its swift-swaying wing-feathers were.Nor long thereafter they heard an exceeding bitter cry,As torn was Prometheus' liver, and rang the vault of the skyWith his screaming, until again from the mountain darting backThey marked where the ravening eagle sped on the selfsame track.And at nightfall, by guidance of Argus, the broad-flowing stream did they gainOf Phasis, and there was the uttermost bourne of the Pontic main.

Then straightway the sail they furled, and the yard-arm let they fall,And stowed in the mast-trough then; and the mast unstepped they withal,And lowered in haste, till it lay along: then rowed they fastInto the river's mighty stream; round the prow as they passedHe surged as he yielded them way; and they had on the leftward handHigh Caucasus now, and the city Kytaian of Aia-land;And to rightward the plain and the holy grove of the War-god layWhere keepeth the serpent watch and ward on the Fleece alway,As it hangeth amidst of the thick-leaved boughs of an oak outspread.And Aison's son himself from a golden chalice shedInto the river libations of sweet unmingled wineUnto Earth, to the Gods of the land, to the Spirits of Heroes divineWhich had died, and with bowed knees prayed them their sorrowless help to giveOf their grace, and with welcome propitious the hawsers of Argo receive.Then straightway Ankaios spake the word to his fellows, and cried:

'Lo now, to the Kolchian land have we won, where the waters glideOf Phasis:--the time is come for counsel, to choose our part,If with soft words now we shall make assay of Aiêtes' heart,Or if other endeavour perchance shall avail us in this our need.'

So spake he, and Jason thereon commanded, by Argus' rede,To a backwater leaf-overshadowed to run the galley aside,And to warp her up to the anchor-stone, off-shore to ride:Now the place was anigh to them then. So slept they there through the night,And soon to their longing eyes appeared the dawning's light.