Like drops from the fruit of the olive adown to the waters were swept.
Thence into Rhodanus ran they, whose deep-flowing waters fleet
Into Eridanus’ stream: and where the great floods meet,
Roar they turmoiling and seething. Now Rhodanus cometh from far,
From the ends of the earth, where the portals of Night and her mansions are. {630}
Thence bursteth he forth, and divideth his stream; for the one part roareth
To the beaches of Ocean, and one to the sea Ionian poureth;
And a third to the main Sardinian, the sea-gulf limitless-vast,
Through seven mouths sendeth his flood. So from Rhodanus forth they passed,
And they drave over wintry meres wide-spread—none telleth their bound—
Over the Keltic mainland, and well-nigh there had they found
Inglorious doom: for a certain branch turns sidewards flowing
To the Ocean-gulf; thereinto were these, of the peril unknowing,
At point to thrust, and never alive had they won thereout.
But forth out of heaven Hêrê darted, and pealed her shout {640}
From the rock Herkynian: with fear were they shaken because of her cry
As one man all, for terribly crashed the wide-arched sky.
Backward they turned at the Goddess’s warning, and then were they ware
Of the track, whereby for their home-return they needs must fare.
So at last came they to a beach where the sea-surge moaning rolled,
By Hêrê’s devising, through tribes of the Keltic folk untold
And Ligurians passing unharmed; for about them a mist-veil dread
Day after day, as homeward they fared, did the Goddess spread.
And so through the midmost mouth of the river Argo sailed,
And safe on the ‘Long Row Isles’ did they land; for the prayers had prevailed {650}
Of the sons of Zeus; for the which cause altars and temples aye
Unto these have been reared: nor with those sea-farers alone went they
As helpers, but Zeus made these all mariners’ saviours to be.
So the ‘Long Row’ left they, and on to Aithalia sped oversea.
There in athlete-strife did they supple their limbs, till the sweat of them dripped
As rain, and the pebbles are flecked as with scarf-skin strigil-stripped
To this day; and their quoits and their wondrous armour are there, all stone;
And yet in the name of the haven the glory of Argo is shown.
And swiftly speeding thence they fleeted the sea-swell o’er,
To Ausonia’s strand Tyrrhenian lifting their eyes evermore. {660}
And they came to Aiaia’s haven renowned, and forth of the prow
The hawsers adown to the strand they cast. And Circê now
There did they find, in the spray of the surf as she bathed her head,
For that dreams of the night had made the Spell-queen sorely adread.
For with blood did it seem that her palace-chambers, and every wall,
Were running, and flame was devouring her magic herbs, even all
Wherewith she was wont to bewitch what strangers soever came.
And herself with the blood of murder quenched that red-glowing flame,
Scooping it up with her hands: so ceased she from deadly dismay.
Wherefore, when dawning uprose, in the sea-surf’s flashing spray {670}
At her waking she washed her vesture and bathed her braided hair.
And beasts—not like unto ravening beasts of the wold these were,
Nor in likeness fashioned as men, but as though from a medley-heap
They had gotten their limbs—in a throng followed after her, even as sheep
From the folds in their multitudes following after the shepherd go.
Such shapes from the slime primeval did earth first cause to grow,
Herself the creator, compacted of limbs in confusion blent,
Ere yet into hardness she grew ’neath a rainless firmament,
Neither yet from the shafts of a scorching sun had she gotten her dews
Of refreshing: but these as the ranks of an army did Time confuse, {680}
As he marshalled them forth into being:—such monsters after her pressed.
And exceeding amazement fell on the heroes; and each man guessed,
As he gazed upon Circê’s form, and the eyes unsoftened with ruth,
That this should be none save Aiêtes’ sister in very sooth.
So when she had bidden her terrors of dreams of the night to flee,
Back straightway she paced; and the heroes she bade in her subtlety
To follow, with witching beck of her fingers charming them on.
Yet steadfastly tarried the throng at the hest of Aison’s son
In their place: but he went, and beside him the Kolchian maiden he drew.
So trod they the selfsame path till they entered in, those two, {690}
Into Circê’s hall. In amaze at their coming, the Sorcery-queen
Bade them to sit them down upon thrones of burnished sheen.
But soundless and wordless they sped to her hearthstone’s hallowed place,
And there sat, after the wont of the suppliant in evil case;
And Medea bowed her adown, and in both hands hid her face.
But Jason set in the earth his mighty-hilted sword
Wherewithal he had slain Aiêtes’ son; and his eyes guilt-lowered
Rose never to meet her glance. And straightway Circê was ware
Of the vengeance-hounded feet, and the hands that the bloodstain bare.
Therefore for awe of the statutes of Zeus the Suppliant-ward, {700}
The Manslayer’s Champion, yea, an exceeding jealous lord,
She offered the sacrifice whereby they are cleansed from their guilt,
When they come to his mercy-seat, by whose fierce hands blood hath been spilt.
First, to atone for the murder inexpiate yet, she held
Forth over their heads the young of a swine whose dugs yet swelled
From the fruit of the womb; thereafter she severed its throat, and she dyed
Their hands with the blood, and again with other drink-offerings beside
Made the atonement, calling on Zeus, the Cleanser of all,
The Avenger of suppliants murder-stained, on his name which call.
Then all that in cleansing she used from the mansion her handmaids bore, {710}
The Naiad-nymphs, which ministered whatso she needed therefor.
But Circê abode by the hearth, and thereon without wine did she burn,
Praying the while, the atonement-cakes, to the end she might turn
From their anger the terrible Vengeance-fiends, and that Zeus might be wrought
Unto mercy and grace to the suppliants twain, his pardon who sought,
Whether they bowed at his throne for the life of a stranger shed,
Or their kindred hands with the blood of their nearest and dearest were red.
But when she had wrought all so, and the work of atonement was done,
Then raised she them up, and seated them each on a gleaming throne,
And herself sat nigh them, and eye to eye she straitly inquired {720}
Wherefore they voyaged thus, and the thing that their hearts desired,
And from what far shore they had come to her land and her palace-home,
And in suppliance sat on her threshold; for into her soul had there come,
As she pondered, a hideous thought, as her dreams in remembrance returned,
And to hear the voice of the maiden her kinswoman sorely she yearned;
For she knew her, so soon as she lifted her down-drooped eyes from the earth,
For that plain to discern were all which drew from the Sun their birth,
Forasmuch as they lightened afar a splendour like as of gold
From the flashings of their eyes upon whoso their face should behold.
So Medea told unto her all things that she craved to know, {730}
Speaking the Kolchian tongue with utterance gentle and low,—
Deep-hearted Aiêtes’ child—of the Quest, of the paths where fared
The heroes, of all the conflicts sharp and stern that they dared;
How herself into sin by her woeful sister’s pleading was led,
And how from her father’s tyrannous terrors afar she had fled
With Phrixus’ sons. But from this she shrank, that nothing she said
Of Absyrtus’ murder; yet Circê discerned it: but pity-stirred
By her woe-stricken kinswoman’s tears, she answered and spake the word:
‘Ah wretch! thou hast found thee an evil and shameful homeward path!
Not long, I ween, shalt thou ’scape from Aiêtes’ terrible wrath. {740}
Nay, but full soon will he go to the dwellings of Hellas-land
To avenge the blood of his son, the unspeakable deed of thine hand.
Yet, forasmuch as my suppliant thou art, and my sister withal,
None other harm unto thee at thy coming of me shall befall.
But begone from mine halls, companion who art in an alien’s flight—
Whosoe’er be this fellow unknown thou hast ta’en in thy father’s despite!—
Nay, knee me no knees, earth-croucher! Naught shalt thou win save blame,
Save a curse for thine heart’s devices, for this thy flight of shame!’
So spake she; and comfortless grief overwhelmed Medea: she cast
Her robe o’er her eyes, and she wailed and wailed, till the hero at last {750}
By the hand upraised her, and forth of the palace-doors he led,
As she quivered with terror: and so from the mansions of Circê they fled.
Yet they passed not unmarked of the Bride of Zeus; but Iris bore
Tidings to her, when she spied them faring forlorn from her door.
For Hêrê had bidden her watch what time they should wend to the ship.
So again on her message she sped her, and spake with eager lip:
‘Dear Iris, if ever mine hest thou fulfilledst in days overpast,
Now hie thee away, upon hurrying pinions speeding fast.
Hitherward bid thou Thetis to come to me, up from the sea
Rising: for need of her cometh to me. Thence hasten thee {760}
Unto the echoing beaches whereon the brazen rows
Of the Fire-god’s anvils are smitten with thunderous-crashing blows.
Speak to him to still the fire-blast’s breathings, till Argo thereby
Shall have sped: thereafter shalt thou with my message to Aiolus fly—
Aiolus, king of the welkin-begotten winds of the sky:—
Thou tell him my purpose, that all blasts under the firmament
He may hush to rest, and let not a wandering gust be sent
To ruffle the face of the sea: let Zephyr alone blow on,
Until to Alkinoüs’ isle Phaeacian the heroes have won.’
So spake she: forthright from the verge of Olympus did Iris leap {770}
Cleaving the welkin, outspreading her light wings. Into the deep
Aegean she plunged, even there where the mansions of Nereus stand.
And first unto Thetis she came, and according to all the command
Of Hêrê she spake, and uproused her to Heaven’s Queen to soar.
Next unto Hephaistus she came, and with speed at her word he forbore
From the clanging of hammers of iron; and stayed from their tempest-blast
Were the smoke-grimed bellows. Thereafter on to the third hath she passed,
Aiolus, Hippotas’ glorious son. And even the while
Her message she told, and her swift knees rested from journeying toil,
Thetis from Nereus had gone and her sisters, and up from the sea {780}
And Olympus-ward to the presence of Hêrê the Queen passed she.
And she caused her to sit by her side, and she uttered forth the word:
‘Hear, Goddess Thetis, the thing that my spirit to tell thee is stirred.
Thou knowest how honoured is Aison’s son of me in mine heart,
And they that with him in the toil of the Quest have borne their part.
Alone did I save them then through the Clashing Rocks when they flew,
When lightened the terrible flames, when the storm of the fire-blast blew,
When white were the ragged reefs with the spume of the boiling surge.
But a path by Scylla the Rock and Charybdis’ fathomless gorge
Dreadly outbelching, awaits them:—O Thetis, I nursed thee of yore, {790}
Even I, when thou wast but a wordless babe, and I loved thee more
Than the others thy fellows, the Maids in the halls of brine which abide,
Because thou refusedst, for all his desire, to couch by the side
Of Zeus—ay, so evermore be his thoughts all lust for embrace
Of a Goddess immortal, or couch of a princess of mortal race!
But for reverence of me, and for sacred fear which the heart of thee bare,
Didst thou shrink from his love: thereafter a mighty oath he sware
That never shouldst thou be called the bride of a God undying;
Yet for all this spared not, but followed thee sore loth, lustfully eyeing,
Till reverend Themis revealed unto him all Fate’s decree, {800}
How that thy weird was to bear a son who should mightier be
Than his father: wherefore, for all his desire, he refrained, for dread
Lest another should rise up matching his might, and should rule in his stead
O’er the Deathless, and so should himself not hold the dominion for aye.
But the best of the sons of earth for thine husband I found, in the day
That saw thine espousals, that sweetness of marriage might comfort thee,
And babes: and the Gods to the feast of thy solemnity,
Even all, did I bid: in mine own hands then did the splendour shine
Of the bridal torch, to requite that love, that honour of thine.
Go to now, a word will I tell thee, a prophecy faithful and fast: {810}
What time thy son to the plain Elysian shall come at the last—
Thy son, who now in the dwellings of Cheiron the Centaur-king,
Forlorn of the mother’s breast, is nursed by the Maids of the Spring—
There is it his weird to wed Aiêtes’ daughter; but thou,
Medea’s mother that shalt be, help thy daughter now,
Yea, Peleus withal—ha! why is thine anger quenchless-hot?
Folly was his; yet even the Gods may be folly-distraught.
Of a surety, I ween, by my behests shall Hephaistus cease
To cause the might of his fire to burn; and Hippotades,
Aiolus, all the rushing wings of his winds shall refrain, {820}
Save only the steadfast-breathing West, till the heroes shall gain
The havens Phaeacian. Devise for them thou a return without bane.
For the crags and the tyrannous-buffeting surges make me afraid,
These only; and these shall be foiled, if thou and thy sisters aid.
In ’wildered amazement suffer them not to thrust their keel
Charybdis-ward, lest down through her jaws to destruction they reel.
Neither suffer thou them to approach unto Scylla’s hideous lair—
Ausonian Scylla the deadly, whom nightmare Hekatê bare,
Even she whom Krataiïs they call, to the Ancient of the sea—
Lest with her horrible jaws down-swooping suddenly {830}
She destroy of the heroes the chiefest. But guide thou onward the ship
In the course where still is a hairbreadth escape from destruction’s grip.’
So spake she, and Thetis to her made answer with suchlike word:
‘If the might of the ravening fire and the winds’ breath fury-stirred
Shall in very deed be refrained, would I of a surety essay—
Yea, I would pledge me, what though the surges should bar their way,
To bring their ship safe through, if the West blow fresh and strong.
But now is it time that I fare on the far track measureless-long
Unto my sisters—they which herein shall strengthen mine hand,—
And to where the ship’s stern-hawsers be cast forth on to the strand, {840}
That the men may at dawn take thought for the home-return to their land.’
She spake, and departed, and plunged from the height of the heaven mid swirls
Of the dark-blue sea; and she called to her sisters, the Nereïd-girls,
To come to her help: and the Maids of the Sea, so soon as they heard,
Gathered; and Thetis told them according to Hêrê’s word;
And she sped them all to the sea Ausonian thence forthright.
And swifter herself than the flash of an eye, or the arrows of light
Of the sun, from the uttermost bourne when his chariot-wheels upflame,
On through the water she fleeted and flashed, until she came
Unto the beach Aiaian of that Tyrrhenian main. {850}
And she found by the galley the heroes: the shaft on the string did they strain
For their sport, and the javelin they hurled: but she stole unto Peleus’ side,
And she touched his hand; for of old had he won her, his Goddess-bride.
But the eyes of the others were holden: to him did the Goddess appear,
Of his eyes only discerned; and she murmured low in his ear:
‘No longer now on the beaches Tyrrhenian sitting abide;
But cast ye the hawsers of Argo loose with the dawning-tide,
Obeying your helper Hêrê’s command; for at her behest
The Sea-maids, daughters of Nereus, all to the trysting have pressed,
Through the midst of the Rocks which the Wanderers hight your galley to speed {860}
Safe; for thereby is your course, and the path by fate decreed.
But see that thou show me to none, when thine eyes my form discern
Mid the Nymphs, as we meet thee, lest hotter thou cause mine anger to burn
Than when erst thou didst kindle my spirit to anger swift and stern.’
She spake, and she plunged through abysses of sea, and he saw her no more:
And sharp pain smote him, who had not beheld her theretofore
Since the day she forsook her bridal bower and her couch at the first,
When for noble Achilles their babe into sudden anger she burst.
For the mortal flesh of her child did the Goddess encompass aye
Through the midst of the night with flames of fire, and day by day {870}
With ambrosia anointed his tender frame, to make him thereby
Immortal, that loathly eld might come not his body anigh.
But Peleus from slumber upstarted, and saw his beloved son
Gasping mid flame; and he sent abroad, as he looked thereon,
A terrible cry in his folly exceeding. She heard him, and whirled
The babe aloft, and screaming adown on the earth she hurled:
And herself like a breath of the wind, or a dream at the breaking of sleep,
Forth of the hall flitted swiftly, and into the sea did she leap
In her anger: and never thereafter returned she thither again.
Amazement fettered his soul: but, for all his ’wildered pain, {880}
To his comrades he spake forth all the commands of his Goddess-wife.
So these in the midst brake off, and refrained from the athlete-strife;
And the meat of the eventide and the earth-strawn beds they dight,
Whereon, having supped, as aforetime they laid them and slept through the night.
When Dawn ’gan sprinkle the sky from her chalice of light overbrimming,
Even then, when the wings of the West-wind the face of the waters were skimming,
They went up from the strand, and they sat on the thwarts, and aboard they drew
Blithely the anchor-stones from the deep, and in order due
The rest of the tackling all they lashed, and the sail spread wide
On high from the yard-arm, straining it taut with the sheets of hide. {890}
Onward the fresh breeze wafted the ship: full soon they beheld
A fair isle flower-bestarred, where the Siren Destroyers dwelled,
Acheloüs’ clear-voiced daughters, whose sweet songs wont to beguile
With their witchery whosoe’er cast anchor anigh that isle.
They were children whom lovely Terpsichorê, one of the Muses, bore
To the flood Acheloüs: and unto Dêmêter’s daughter of yore,
When she yet was unwedded, the noble Persephonê, ministered they,
As in blended chorus they sang: but as birds in the latter day
Were they fashioned in part to behold, and as maidens in part they were.
And aye keeping watch from the harbour-cliffs overbeetling their lair, {900}
From many an one had they reft sweet home-return, whom they slew
With wasting consuming them. Lo, on a sudden to Argo’s crew
Pealed from their lips their clear-sweet voice. From the galley now
Were they even at point to cast the hawser ashore from the prow;
But Thracian Orpheus matched him against that demon choir,
And the hands of Oiagrius’ scion swept the Bistonian lyre;
And the march of the song o’er the rippling melody rang ever higher,
Till their ears were filled with the chiming and thrilled with the triumph of sound,
And the Sea-maids’ shrilling chant in the storm of the lyre was drowned.
On flitted the ship, by the West-wind borne and the sighing swell {910}
Upleaping astern; and bootless the weird song failed and fell:—
Not bootless all, for that Teleon’s goodly son did leap
From the polished thwart, ere his comrades could stay him, into the deep,
Butes, whose soul was bewitched by the Sirens’ clear-ringing breath;
And he swam through the purple surge to tread that strand of death.
Doomed wretch!—full soon had they robbed him there of his home-return;
But for him did the Cyprian Lady of Eryx in pity yearn,
And she snatched him away from the swirling wave, and safe she bore
Of her grace to dwell on the height Lilybœan on Sicily’s shore.
So in anguish of spirit they left him: but perils worse than these {920}
Awaited them—shipwrecking gulfs in the meeting-place of the seas.
For on this side Scylla’s smooth sheer crag uptowering loomed,
And on that side Charybdis seething in ceaseless thunder boomed;
And otherwhere, swung by the mighty surge, met clanging and crashing
The Wandering Rocks, where afront were the spurts of fire out-flashing
From the crests of the cliffs, o’er the crag red-glowing on high that burned.
And with smoke was the air all mistily shrouded: thou hadst not discerned
The beams of the sun. Then, albeit Hephaistus refrained from his toil,
With the hot uprushing steam did the sea yet bubble and boil.
Then Nereus’ daughters from this side and that side the heroes met, {930}
And Thetis the Goddess her hand to the blade of the rudder set;
And onward amidst of the Wandering Rocks the ship haled they.
And as when o’er the face of a summer sea the dolphins play
Circling around a ship as she runneth before the wind,
One while in front of her stern beheld, one while behind,
And alongside anon: and the shipmen be blithe for their gambolling;
So darted they up from the depths, so circled, a glimmering ring,
Round Argo the ship; and Thetis was steering her course through all.
And when now was the galley at point on the Wandering Rocks to fall,
Straightway they kilted their skirts above their snowy knees, {940}
And high on the crests of the skerries, the breaking of madding seas,
To this side and that side they sped, far ranged apart to stand.
Sea-cataracts crashed on her beam, fierce surges on either hand
Higher upsoaring and higher o’er the rocks were bursting and streaming;
And these now towered to the welkin, as mountain-crags in seeming,
And now, whelmed down the abyss, on the Ocean’s nethermost floor
Grounded they: over their crests did the triumphing rollers roar.
But the Nereïds, as maidens that flit to and fro on a sandy beach,
With parted gown-laps kilted about the waist of each,
Sport with a shapely rounded ball: one tosseth it on, {950}
And her fellow receiveth; and high ’twixt heaven and earth is it gone
Sped from her hand to the welkin; and never it toucheth the ground,
So from one unto other’s hand passed on did the galley bound
Through the air o’er the crests of the waves as they sped her, clear alway
Of the rocks; and around her the water upbelching was seething aye.
And the Fire-king’s self on the ridge of a surf-lashed scaur was there,
While his sturdy hammer the weight of his massy shoulder bare.
Thence marvelling gazed Hephaistus: the bride of Zeus looked down
Where she stood in the sunlit heaven, and round Athênê had thrown
Her arms, in such faintness of fear, as she looked thereon, did she cling. {960}
And long as the space of a day is lengthened out in the spring,
So long was the time that they laboured, heaving with might and main
The ship through the thunderous-echoing rocks, till the wind again
Blew out the canvas; and onward they ran, and swiftly they sped
By the meads of Thrinakria’s isle, where the kine of the Sun-god fed.
Then the Nymphs in the semblance of sea-mews down through abysses of brine
Plunged, when wrought was the hest of Zeus’s Bride divine.
Then through the air did there come to the heroes a bleating of sheep,
And a lowing of kine full nigh to their ears floated over the deep.
There a shepherdess-goddess pastured the sheep o’er the dewy lea, {970}
Phaëthusa—youngest of all the Sun-god’s daughters was she—
Bearing a shepherd’s crook of silver the while in her hand;
And Lampetiê herded the kine, and of mountain-brass was the wand
That she swayed as she followed their steps: and the heroes themselves espied
Those herds by the river that pastured, the sliding gleam beside,
O’er the plain and the water-meadow: was none amid all that herd
Dun-hued of hide, but all white even as milk appeared.
And a glory of golden horns on the stately heads of them shone.
So they passed in the daytime the Sun-god’s herds, and as night drew on,
They went cleaving the great sea-gulf rejoicing, until once more {980}
The Child of the Mist, the Dawning, flashed on their sea-path hoar.
Now fronting the mouth of the gulf Ionian lieth an isle
In the sea Keraunian, forest-mantled, with deep rich soil,
Whereunder the sickle, saith legend, is lying—vouchsafe me your grace,
Song-goddesses: loth do I speak of the tale of the olden days—
Wherewithal the strength of his father by Kronos was ruthlessly shorn:
(But of some is it called Demêter-of-Hades’ Reaper of Corn:
For Demêter in that land wont to abide in the days of old,
And she taught the Titans to reap the cornfield’s spears of gold,
Of her love unto Makris): the Sickle-land is it named therefrom, {990}
The Phaeacians’ hallowed nurse: and by lineage so these come
Of Ouranus’ very blood, and his sons the Phaeacians be.
So Argo through much tribulation came from Thrinakria’s sea
With the breeze to the land Phaeacian. With welcoming sacrifice
Alkinoüs the king and his people received them in kindly wise:
And all the city with riot of mirth o’er the far-driven ones
Rejoiced: thou hadst said that they joyed o’er their own re-given sons.
And the heroes themselves through the throng in gladness triumphant strode,
Even as though the heart of Haimonia-land they trod.
But now were they like to be donning their mail for the onset-cry, {1000}
So mighty a host of Kolchian men appeared hard by,
Which down through the gorge of the Pontus, and on through the Crags Dark-blue
Had passed to the uttermost sea in quest of the hero-crew.
And Medea they chiefly were eager to hale to her father’s house
Without parley, or threatened else that the war-yell dolorous
Should be raised for the slaughter-vengeance unrelenting and stern
Both then, and when led by Aiêtes their host should thereafter return.
Yet Alkinoüs the king restrained them amidst of their lust for the fray;
For he greatly desired without the clash of the strife to allay
The haughty-hearted feud betwixt the war-hosts twain. {1010}
But the maiden in deadly fear besought again and again
The comrades of Aison’s son; and again and again did she cling
With her hands round the knees of Arêtê, the wife of Alkinoüs the king:
‘I kneel unto thee, O Queen!—be gracious, and yield me not now
To the Kolchians to hale to my father, if thou art of humankind, thou
Which livest by bread—of the hearts into folly that swiftliest rush,
Whom lightest transgression adown the abysses of ruin doth push,
Even so as my wisdom forsook me—nay, but it was not done
By reason of lust: be witness the sacred light of the sun:
Be witness the rites of Perseus’ daughter, which haunteth the night, {1020}
That not of my will with men of an alien land in flight
Did I haste from mine home; but horrible dread on my spirit wrought
To bethink me of fleeing thus when I sinned: other help there was not,
Neither hope. My maidenhead yet unmarred abideth and clean,
As it was in the halls of my father. Have pity upon me, O Queen;
And incline unto mercy the heart of thy lord! May the Deathless so
A life all-perfect on thee, all happiness bestow,
And sons, and the boast of a city unravaged of any foe!’
So bowed at Arêtê’s knees did she weep, and so beseech;
And thus to the heroes appealed she, turning to each after each: {1030}
‘For your sakes, O ye chiefest of might, and for your emprise,
Am I hounded of terrors thus, even I, by whose device
Ye bowed the bulls to the yoke, and reaped that deadly swath
Of the Earth-born Men—even I, through whom on the homeward path
Ye shall bear the Fleece of Gold full soon to Haimonia’s shore—
Even I, who have lost my country, my parents have lost evermore,
Have lost mine home, have lost all pleasures of life that I knew,
But to you have restored your country, your homes have restored unto you;
And with rapture-litten eyes your parents again shall ye see.
But from me—a tyrannous god all happiness reft from me; {1040}
And with alien men do I wander forlorn, an accursèd wight!
Dread ye the covenant-troth and the oaths: the Avenging Sprite
Of the suppliants dread, and the Gods’ retribution, if ever I come
To Aiêtes’ hands, amid outrage and agony meeting my doom!
No temple have I, neither tower of salvation, nor refuge beside:
You cast I before me, mine only shield in the perilous tide.
Hard hearts unrelenting and ruthless!—ye know not reverence, ye,
For the suppliant, though ye behold as I stretch despairingly
Mine hands to the knees of a stranger queen. Yet the Kolchian array,
One and all, had ye faced, when ye thirsted to bear the Fleece away: {1050}
Yea, Aiêtes the proud had ye faced:—but your manhood hath fainted, is flown
Now, when your foes from their helpers be sundered, a handful alone.’
So passioned and prayed Medea. To whomso she bowed in prayer,
Ever he heartened her, fain to assuage her anguished despair.
And their keen-whetted lances in wrathful-quivering hands did they shake,
And unscabbarded swords; and they swore they would fail not her help nor forsake,
If the strange king touching the maiden unrighteous judgment spake.
And lo, mid the throng as they wrangled, the night, that putteth to sleep
The labours of men, stole o’er them, and all the earth did she steep
In the balm of her quiet: but not on the maid fell slumber’s peace {1060}
One whit, but her heart in her bosom for anguish writhed without cease.
Even as when a toiling woman windeth her thread
Through the night, and her fatherless children around her be moaning for bread,
For that widowed she is; and adown her cheeks stream ever the tears
As she thinketh upon this dreary lot that hath darkened her years;
Even so were the maid’s cheeks wet, and her heart evermore in her breast
On the anguish-thorn impaled was writhing in wild unrest.
But amidst of the city the palace within, as in days gone by,
Alkinoüs the king, and the lady of queenliest majesty,
The wife of Alkinoüs, lay in their bed, and many a word {1070}
Through the darkness in counsel they spake of the maiden; and thus to her lord
With loving and earnest speech made answer the queen, and she said:
‘Yea, O my beloved—yet save, I beseech thee, the woe-stricken maid
From the Kolchians, showing a grace to the Minyan men. For anigh
To our isle lieth Argos; the men of Haimonia dwell hard by.
But Aiêtes—he dwelleth not even anear, and nought do we know
Of Aiêtes: we hear but his name. But the maiden’s awful woe,
When she made supplication, mine heart within my breast hath torn.
Yield her not up to the Kolchians, my king, to her sire to be borne.
In madness she sinned at the first, when she gave him the charm that should tame {1080}
The bulls; and with wrong to amend that wrong—ay, ofttimes the same
In our sinning we do!—she straightway essayed; and, shrinking in fear
From her proud sire’s tyrannous wrath, she fled. Now the man, as I hear,
This Jason, is bound by mighty oaths, which his own lips said,
When he pledged him to make her, his halls within, his wife true-wed.
Wherefore, beloved, constrain not Aison’s son to forswear
His oath, of thy will, nor consent that the sire from the daughter should tear
Her life in the rage of his soul amid pangs unendurably keen:
For cruelly jealous against their daughters are fathers, I ween.
What vengeance did Nykteus wreak on Antiopê lovely-faced! {1090}
What woes were of Danaê borne on the wide sea’s desolate waste
Through her sire’s mad rage! And of late, nor afar, it came to pass
That wanton-tyrannous Echetus thrust the goads of brass
Through the eyes of his daughter: and wasted and worn by her woeful doom,
She is grinding the grain of brass in a hovel’s dungeon-gloom.’
So spake she beseeching; and softened so was the heart of the king
By the words of his wife, and he spake in such wise answering:
‘Arêtê, the Kolchian men would I even, in harness arrayed,
Drive forth of the land, for a grace to the heroes, to save yon maid.
But I fear to set the unswerving justice of Zeus at nought. {1100}
Nor were this well done, to contemn, according to this thy thought,
Aiêtes:—of kinglier king than Aiêtes may no man tell.
Yea, war, if he list, shall he bring against Hellas, afar though he dwell.
Wherefore ’tis meet and right that the sentence be spoken of me
That in all men’s eyes shall be best, and I will not hide it from thee:—
If the damsel be virgin yet, I decree that the daughter be led
To the father: but if she minister unto a husband’s bed,
I will part not from husband wife; nor, if haply she bear ’neath her zone
His offspring, to foes will I yield up a child of Aison’s son.’
So spake he, and round him straight did the veil of slumber close. {1110}
But she laid up his wisdom her heart within; and she straightway uprose
From her couch in the palace: the women her handmaids with hurrying feet
Came, eagerly tending their lady the Queen with service meet.
And she silently summoned her herald, and spake in his ears her request
To be instant in bidding Aison’s son, at his Queen’s behest,
To wed with the maiden, nor more with Alkinoüs the king to plead;
For himself to the Kolchians would go and pronounce the doom decreed,
That, if she were virgin yet, he would render her up to be led
To her father: but if she ministered unto a husband’s bed,
Not then would he sever the wife from the love of the lawfully wed. {1120}
So spake she, and forth of the hall the feet of the herald sped
Unto Jason, Arêtê the Queen’s fair-omened message to bring,
And Alkinoüs’ counsel, the word of the god-revering king.
And the heroes he found by the ship in their war-gear abiding awake
In the haven of Hyllus, anigh to the city; and out he spake
The Queen’s whole message, and each man’s spirit was gladness-stirred,
Forasmuch as he spake in their ears an exceeding welcome word.
Straightway they mingled the bowl to the Gods that abide for aye;
And with reverent hands to the altar the victim-sheep drew they.
And the selfsame night for the maiden prepared they the couch of the bride {1130}
In a hallowed cave, where of old time Makris wont to abide,
The child of the Honey-lord, Aristaius, whose wisdom discerned
The toils of the bees, and the wealth of the labour of olives learned.
And she was the first that received and in sheltering bosom bore
The child Nysaian of Zeus, on Eubœa’s Abantian shore.
And with honey she moistened his lips, where the dew of life was dried
When Hermes bare him out of the fire. But Hêrê espied,
And from all the isle that Nymph in her fierceness of anger she drave.
Wherefore she dwelt far thence in the holy Phaeacian cave,
And blessing and weal beyond word to the folk of the land she gave. {1140}
Even there did they spread them the mighty couch and thereover they laid
The glittering Golden Fleece, that the marriage so might be made
Honoured, a song in the mouths of bards. Flowers manifold-fair
The Nymphs in their snowy bosoms gathered, and thitherward bare.
And a splendour like as of fire glowed round those shapes divine,
Such glory-gleams from the golden tufts did shimmer and shine.
Sweet longing lit up their eyes: howbeit did awe withhold
Each one, though she yearned to lay but her hand on the wonder of gold.
And of that bright throng the river Aigaius’ daughters were some,
And some on the crests of Melitê dwelt in their mountain-home; {1150}
And forest-glen Nymphs of the plains were some: for Zeus’s bride,
Even Hêrê, had sent them for honour to Jason’s marriage-tide.
That cave is to this day named Medea’s Sacred Grot,
Forasmuch as to wedlock’s solemnities there these twain they brought,
When the odorous-sweet fine linen they spread. And the heroes without
Guarded them war-spear in hand, lest haply for battle the rout
Of their foes unawares should set on them, or ever the rites were sped.
And with sprays of bounteous leaf did they wreathe each man his head;
And in harmony all, while clear the harp of Orpheus rang,
At the entering-in of the cave the bridal hymn they sang. {1160}
Yet not in Alkinoüs’ home the hero Aison’s son,
But in halls of his father, the goal of marriage full fain had won,
When home he returned to Iolkos, and so withal was the mind
Of Medea, but hard compulsion constrained them now to be joined.
But even as never the tribes of the woe-stricken children of earth
May tread full-footed the path of delight, but still with our mirth
Hand in hand goeth pacing affliction bitter as gall,
So these, when melted with rapture of love were their souls, were thrall
Unto dread, what things of Alkinoüs’ sentence should haply befall.
So soon as the dawn with her beams ambrosial climbed heaven’s height, {1170}
And scattered the gloomy night through the welkin, and laughed in her light
The island-beaches, and all the paths through the plains that wound
Dew-gleaming afar, and awoke in the streets a murmur of sound,
And her folk were astir through the town, and astir was the Kolchian host
In their camp far off on the bounds of the Makrian sea-ringed coast.
Then straightway Alkinoüs hied him, by covenant-plight to hold,
To utter his purpose as touching the maiden. His sceptre of gold,
His staff of justice, he bare, wherewith to the multitude
Of the city were meted the statutes with righteousness endued.
And beside him, in ordered ranks arrayed in their harness of fight, {1180}
Squadron by squadron were marching Phaeacia’s chiefest of might.
And forth from the tower-girt city in throngs the women broke
To gaze on the heroes; and men therewithal of the country-folk
Met them, which heard the tidings; for Hêrê afar had sped
A rumour that erred not: and one a lamb unblemished led,
The choice of the sheep: with a heifer unlaboured one drew nigh;
And others were ranging the earthen jars of wine hard by
To mingle. The sacrifice-smoke was wafted far away.
Came women with webs of costly labour, as women may,
And with trinkets of gold, and with manifold ornaments therebeside, {1190}
Such gifts as be wont to be brought to the newly-wedded bride.
And they marvelled beholding the heroes’ stature and comeliness,
As they towered o’er the throng, and Oiagrius’ scion amidst of the press,
As in time to the harmony-ringing lyre and the chanted strain
Ever he smote and anon with his glittering sandal the plain.
And the Nymphs all blending their voices, when marriage-notes chimed on the string,
Uplifted the lovely bridal chant, and anon would they sing
Alone and unprompted the song, as the wreaths of their dances they twined.
O Hêrê, of thee was it done; for thou puttedst it into the mind
Of Arêtê to tell Alkinoüs’ prudent word of the night. {1200}
But so soon as the king had pronounced the decree of unswerving right,
And when now was the marriage accomplished proclaimed in all men’s ears,
Then took he heed that it so should abide: no deadly fears
Touched him, nor Aiêtes’ terrible wrath might his purpose shake;
But he held by the word he had plighted, the oath that he would not break.
And when now were the Kolchians ware that in vain they besought him to swerve,
And when now he commanded them—‘Either obey my decree and observe,
Or forth of my havens and land afar shall your galleys sail’;—
Then in that hour for their own king’s threatenings ’gan they quail,
And besought him amongst his folk to receive them. So there in the land {1210}
Long time with the people Phaeacian dwelt the Kolchian band,
Till the Bacchiad lords, which by lineage sprang from Ephyrê,
As the years passed, settled amidst them, and they to the isle oversea
Sailed: thence to the Thunder-hills of Abantian men must they go,
And therefrom to the folk Nestaian, and on to Oricum so.
But the river of time ere then down many a year must flow.
But still to the altars the yearly sacrifice men bring
For the Fates and the Nymphs in the fane of Apollo the Shepherd-king,
Which altars Medea builded. And gifts, ere they passed o’er the wave,
Full many Alkinoüs gave them, and many Arêtê gave. {1220}
Thereafter withal on Medea Phaeacian handmaid-thralls
Twelve did the Queen bestow, to follow her forth of her halls.
On the seventh day sailed they away from Drepanê. Came with the morn
A fresh breeze sent of Zeus: and so by the wind’s breath borne
Onward and onward they ran. Howbeit not yet on the strand
Of Achaia by doom of the God might they tread, that hero-band,
Till yet they had toiled in the uttermost parts of Libya-land.
And now by the bay that is named the Ambracian Gulf had they sped,
And now had they left the Aetolian land with sail wide spread;
And thereafter the isles in the narrow Echinad strait that lie; {1230}
And Pelops’ land in the offing but now might they dimly descry:
Even then were they snatched away by the North-wind’s baleful blast
In mid course: on to the Libyan sea did it sweep them fast
Nine nights together, and days as many, until they had run
Into the Syrtis afar, wherefrom returning is none
For ships, when a storm-driven galley within that gulf shall be found.
For on every hand be shoals, and the tangled weed all round
Of the deep, and the salt foam-scum over all doth mantle and cling.
Into haziest distance stretcheth the land: no living thing
There moveth that creepeth or flieth. On that drear coast by the sweep {1240}
Of the flood-tide—for ofttimes the outrushing ebb draweth back to the deep
Far off from the land, and again with gurgling rush and roar
Cometh bursting over his beaches—afar on the innermost shore
Were they suddenly thrust, that the keel’s full depth was covered no more.
Then leapt they forth of the ship, and in trouble of soul did they gaze
On the dimness, the long low backs of the land all formless haze
Far stretching away unbroken. Nor stream nor spring they espied,
Neither path, nor, how distant soe’er, a steading thereon they descried
Of herdmen, but all the landskip in dead calm folded lay.
And in sore vexation of spirit did hero to hero say: {1250}
‘What manner of land is this? Whither now hath the tempest’s sway
Hurled us? Would God we had dared, all reckless of deadly dismay,
To rush right on through the path of the rocks of the grim sea-gate!
Verily better it were, had we overleapt the fate
Of Zeus, in daring a deed of heroic mood to have died!
But now, what thing should we do, which be prisoned by winds to abide
Here, though but a little span we continue?—in such drear wise
The plain of the limitless land stretcheth up to the lowering skies.’
So cried they: thereafter in utter despair for their evil case
Ankaius the helmsman spake with anguish-darkened face: {1260}
‘Yea verily, ghastliest doom hath undone us. Escape there is not
From destruction: for us but remaineth to suffer the cruellest lot,
Which have fallen on this desolation; yea, even though a breath there should be
Of air from the land, forasmuch as nought save shoals do I see,
Afar as I gaze o’er the waters around; and scantly the brine
Overscaleth the hoary sands in foam-fretted line upon line.
Yea, and our god-built ship had to shards been wretchedly torn
Long since far off from the shore, but that out of the sea was it borne
By the flood-tide’s self uplifted, and high on the land was it thrown.
But the tide now raceth aback to the deep, and foam alone {1270}
Whereon saileth no keel, rolleth on, and but thinly the earth hath it veiled.
Wherefore, I trow, all hope of our sailing hath utterly failed—
All hope of return! Let another man show sea-craft herein.
Lo, there is the helm—whosoever is fain our deliverance to win,
Let him sit in my seat. But little doth Zeus desire, I wot,
To crown with a day of return the toils we have suffered and wrought.’
So spake he, weeping the while; and the others agreed thereto,
Even all which had knowledge of ships; and all the hearts of them grew
Chilly and numb, and over their cheeks was paleness shed.
And even as, like unto lifeless spectres of folk long dead, {1280}
Men creep through the streets of a town, and despairing the issue await
Of famine or leaguer of war, or a tempest unspeakably great
Which hath swept o’er the land, and hath flooded the labours of oxen untold;
Or when great gouts of blood from the images sweating have rolled,
Or when from the shrines of the temple ghostly bellowings wail,
Or the sun o’er the day’s mid noontide draweth the night’s black veil
Out of heaven, and the glittering stars come forth in splendour pale;
So stricken, the chieftains then by the strand’s verge endless-wide
Roamed loitering on. And at one stride came dark eventide.
And piteously around each other their arms did they throw {1290}
With weeping farewell, that each from his fellow apart might go
To die, and might fling him adown on the sand to wait for the end.
So this way and that way to choose their couch of the night did they wend;
And each in the folds of his mantle enshrouded his head, and they lay
Fasting and thirsting there through the livelong night and the day