Upspringing; and all round bristled with thronging shield on shield
And with battle-spears twy-pointed, and morions glorious-gleaming
The garth of the death-dealing War-god: the splendour thereof upstreaming
Through the welkin lightened, and up to the heaven of heavens did it go.
And as when on the face of the earth hath fallen abundant snow,
And the wind-blasts chase the wintry clouds in scattered rout
Under the mirk of the night, and all the hosts shine out {1360}
Of the stars through the darkness glittering; so those Earth-born men
Flashed, o’er the face of the ground upgrowing: but Jason then
Remembered the rede that Medea the cunning-hearted spake;
And a huge round boulder up from the earth in his grasp did he take—
A terrible quoit for Arês the War-god: there should not be found
Four stalwart men of strength to upraise it a span from the ground.
This caught he up in his hand, and afar with a leap did he throw
Into their midst, and behind his buckler himself crouched low
Awelessly. Loudly the Kolchians shouted—it rang as the roar
Of the shouting sea when his surges over the sharp reefs pour. {1370}
But speechless amazement seized on Aiêtes at that vast sweep
Of the massy crag: and the Earth-born as fleetfoot hounds ’gan leap
Each on his fellow, and yelling they slew: the embattled lines
On their mother the earth, by their own spears slain, were falling, as pines
Or as oaks which the down-rushing blasts of the tempest have scourged and riven.
And even as leapeth a fiery star from the depths of the heaven,
Trailing behind him a splendour, a marvel to men which mark
How he darteth in shattering glories athwart the firmament’s dark,
Even so seemed Aison’s son on the Earth-born rushing: he bare
His sword from the scabbard outflashed; and here he smote them and there, {1380}
Mowing them down: full many on belly or flank did he smite
Which had won to the air waist-high, and some which had risen to light
But shoulder-high, and some as they stood but now upright,
And other some, even as their feet ’gan strain in the onset of fight.
And like as, when round the marches the war upstarteth from sleep,
A husbandman, fearing lest foemen the toil of his hands may reap,
Graspeth a curvèd sickle newly-whetted in hand,
And moweth in haste the crop yet green, neither letteth it stand
Until it be parched in the season due by the shafts of the sun;
Even so of the Earth-born the harvest he reaped; and with blood did they run, {1390}
Those furrows, as hurrying runnels that brim from a fountain’s plashing.
Fast fell they, some on their faces, bowing their knees, and gnashing
Their teeth on the rough clods—this one stayed on his palm, and he
On his side: as they wallowed they seemed as the monster-brood of the sea.
And many, or ever their feet from beneath the earth had come,
Pierced through, from the height whereunto they had risen, even therefrom
Down-drooping, were resting their death-dewed brows on the earth again.
Even so, I ween, when Zeus down-poureth the measureless rain,
Droop orchard-shoots new-planted, till low on the earth they lie,
Snapped hard by the roots, that the gardener’s toil is doubled thereby, {1400}
And there come on the heart of the lord of the vineyard, which planted the same,
Confusion of face and deadly anguish in such wise came
On Aiêtes the king vexation of spirit and heaviness.
And back to the city he wended amidst of the Kolchian press,
Dark-plotting to bring the heroes’ purpose with speed to nought.
And the daylight died, and Jason’s mighty achievement was wrought.
Nowtake thou up the story, O Goddess of Song, and sing
The afflictions and thoughts of the Kolchian maid; for as touching this thing
In a tempest of wilderment whirled is my soul, that I know not to say
Whether for bitter infatuate passion she fled away
From the land of the Kolchian folk, or driven of panic dismay.
Now the king in the midst of his Kolchian princes and men of might
Against the heroes devising treachery sat through the night
In his halls, and hot in his soul did the vehement anger rise
For the trial whose issue he loathed, and he weened not in any wise
That unhelped of his daughters had Jason prevailed that task to fulfil. {10}
But Medea’s spirit did Hêrê with woefullest anguish thrill:
And she quaked like a fawn light-footed, the which the hounds’ deep bay
Hath scared, the while in the tangled depths of a copse she lay.
For straightway she surely foreboded that nothing concealed should remain
Of her help, and for this should she fill up a cup of uttermost bane.
And her maids which were privy thereto she dreaded, and filled were her eyes
With fire, and the ears of her rang with a sound as of awful cries.
And ofttimes she clutched at her throat, and moaned in her wretched despair,
As once and again she rent the tresses of her hair.
And there had the maiden beyond her weird her own death wrought {20}
By tasting of poison; and Hêrê’s purpose had come to nought,
But for this, that the Goddess stirred her to flee in her panic dread
With Phrixus’ sons. So her fluttering spirit was comforted
In her breast; and into her bosom in eager haste did she pour
All mingled her spell-drugs and poisons, her casket’s deadly store.
And she kissed her bed, and her hands on the walls with loving caress
Lingered: she kissed the posts of the doors; and one long tress
She severed, and left it her bower within, for her mother to be
A memorial of maidenhood’s days, and with passionate voice moaned she:
‘This tress in mine own stead leave I, or ever I go, unto thee, {30}
My mother; and, far though I wend, yet take farewell from me!
Farewell thou, Chalkiopê, and mine home!—Would God that the wave,
Ere thou cam’st to the Kolchian land, O stranger, had yawned for thy grave!’
So spake she, and down from her eyelids in floods the teardrops ran.
Then, even as stealeth forth from the house of a wealthy man
A bondmaid, whom fate but newly hath torn from her fatherland-soil,
Who never till now hath tasted the lot of bitter toil,
But unschooled to misery, shrinking in horror from slavery
Under the cruel hands of a mistress, forth doth she flee;
Even so from her home forth hasted the lovely maid that day. {40}
Yea, and the bolts of the doors self-moving to her gave way
Leaping aback at the swift-breathed spell of her magic song.
And with feet unsandalled she ran the narrow lanes along,
While her left hand gathered a fold of her mantle, to screen from sight
Her brows and her face and her lovely cheeks, the while with her right
The hem of the skirt of her tunic she held upraised from the ground.
And swiftly without the towers that girded the wide burg round
By the darkling path in her terror she came; and no man knew
Of the warders thereof, but past them all unseen she flew.
Thence marked she well to the temple the way, nor unweeting she was {50}
Of the path, for that oft thereby in her questing she wont to pass
Seeking for corpses and deadly roots, as the wont is still
Of the sorceress. Ever with quivering dread did the heart of her thrill.
And Titania beheld her, as upward she floated from heaven’s far bourne,
As she wandered distraught; and the white Moon-goddess in triumph-scorn
Over Medea exulted, and thus to her heart ’gan say:
‘Ha, not I only adown to the Latmian cavern stray,
Nor I alone for Endymion the comely with love am afire!
Ha, many a time when mine heart was yearning with hot desire,
Did thy strong spells drive me from heaven, that thou in the rayless night {60}
Unhindered might’st work thy sorceries, deeds that are aye thy delight.
Now thou too hast part in the same infatuate passion, I trow,
And a god of affliction hath made this Jason a torment and woe
Unto thee! Pass on, and harden thine heart, be thou never so wise,
To take up thy burden of anguish, thy doom full-fraught with sighs.’
So spake she; but swiftly the maid’s feet bare her, as onward she strained;
And glad was she when the height of the bank of the river she gained.
And overagainst her beheld the splendour of fire: nightlong
For joy of the trial triumphant they fed it, the hero-throng.
And she lifted her voice clear-pealing: across the darkness she cried: {70}
To the youngest of Phrixus’ children she called from the farther side,
Unto Phrontis: and he with his brother discerned Medea’s call;
And the son of Aison knew it; and hushed were the heroes all
In amazement, so soon as they knew of a certainty whose was the cry.
Thrice called she aloud, and thrice, as his company bade reply,
Phrontis in answer shouted, the while with swift-plied oar
The heroes were rowing their ship unto where she stood on the shore.
Not yet to the land were they casting the hawsers forth of the ship,
When lo! to the shore with feet light-bounding did Jason leap
From the height of the deck-planks; and after him Phrontis to land hath sprung, {80}
And Argus, the children of Phrixus. About their knees she clung,
Clasping them round with clinging hands, and Medea cried:
‘Deliver me, O my friends, the hapless!—yea, and beside
Save from Aiêtes yourselves: for all hath been brought to light,
Yea, all: and there cometh no help therefor. But speed we our flight
In your ship, ere the king shall have mounted his swift-horsed car for the chase.
And the Fleece of Gold will I give you: with slumber-spells will I daze
Its serpent warder. But thou in thy comrades’ presence take
The Gods to witness the vows which thy lips, O stranger, spake
Unto me: neither make me, when hence I have fled and afar from my land, {90}
An outcast dishonoured, as one by whose side no kinsman doth stand.’
In anguish she spake: but with gladness exceeding the heart ’gan stir
Of Aison’s son. At his knees as she bowed, he uplifted her
Gently, and straightway embraced her, and spake to her words of cheer:
‘Lady, let Zeus himself the Olympian my troth-plight hear;
Let Hêrê of Wedlock, the Bride of Zeus, in witness be near,
That I surely will make thee mine own true wife mine halls within
Whensoever returning again unto Hellas-land I shall win.’
He spake, and her hand with his right hand caught in the clasp of love.
Then did the maiden bid them to speed to the sacred grove {100}
The swift ship straightway, that so, ere Aiêtes was ware, they might seize
And bear away in the darkness of night the Golden Fleece.
Even with the word was the deed performed by the eager men;
For they took her aboard, and forth from the land their galley then
Thrust they: with plashing loud the pinewood oars ’gan strain
In the hands of the chieftains. But backward darting the maiden again
Outstretched her despairing hands to the shore: but Jason spake
Comforting words, and restrained her whose heart went nigh to break.
In the hour when men from their eyes the fetters of slumber cast,
Even huntsmen, which put their trust in their hounds, nor ever waste {110}
In slumber the end of the night, but the light of the sun they prevent,
Lest, ere they be forth, he efface the track of the beasts, and the scent
Of the quarry, with stainless-gleaming shafts down-smiting thereon;
Even then with the maid from the galley forth stepped Aison’s son
On a grassy sward. The Couch of the Ram men call that spot,
For that there he rested first his knees with toil overwrought,
As he bare on his back the Minyan scion of Athamas.
And anigh it all smoke-besmirched the base of an altar there was,
Which the Aiolid Phrixus to Zeus the Preserver of Exiles did build,
And the Golden Marvel offered thereon, as, gracious-willed, {120}
Hermes bade, in the way as he met him. The hero-crew
There set them aland, as Argus gave them counsel to do.
So these twain fared by the pathway that led to the sacred grove,
Seeking the oak-tree marvellous-huge, mid the branches whereof
Was hanging the Fleece, like a morning-cloud that flusheth red
In the beams of the sun as he riseth up from his ocean-bed.
But barring their path did the neck exceeding long uprise
Of the serpent glaring upon them with keen unsleeping eyes
As they came; and in awful wise did he hiss; and the banks of the flood
Far-stretching echoed, and sighed the measureless depths of the wood. {130}
The people that dwell from Titanian Aia far away
In the Kolchian land by the outfall of Lykus heard, even they—
Of Lykus, which parteth his flow from Araxes’ rattle and roar,
And blendeth with Phasis his sacred stream, and these twain pour
Their mingled waters in one to the dark Caucasian sea.
Young mothers in terror awoke, and their hands in agony
Cast they around their babes new-born, in their arms which slept,
As the tiny limbs with the horror of that hiss thrilled and leapt.
And even as when, above a smouldering faggot-pile,
The eddies of smoke roll upward in murky coil on coil, {140}
One after another swiftly ever on high they spring
From beneath in wavering wreaths uprushing and hovering;
Even so that monster was writhing and heaving the endless trail
Of his coils overlapped with the myriad-ranged harsh-crackling scale.
But, even as he writhed him, came before his eyes the maid,
With sweet voice summoning Sleep, most mighty of Gods, to her aid,
On the monster to cast his spell: and to her that through night’s deep mirk
Paceth, the Underworld Queen, she cried to speed her work.
And followed her Aison’s son in fear: but, lulled by the song,
The serpent by this was relaxing the thorn-ridge endless-long {150}
Of his Titan-spires, and was lengthening out his coils untold,
Even as a dark wave over a sluggish sea slow-rolled,
A dumb and a thunderless surge: yet still, in despite of the spell,
His grisly head he uplifted on high, with purpose fell
To encompass the twain with the grip of his murderous jaws: but she,
Dipping the newly-slivered spray of a juniper-tree
In her mystic brewis, singing—singing—rained down fast
Untempered spells on his eyne, and about him and o’er him was cast
Sleep by the drug’s strong fume; and his dragon-jaws he laid
On the earth in the selfsame place, and his endless coils through the shade {160}
Of the myriad stems of the forest stretching afar were unrolled.
Then from the oak-tree the hero snatched the Fleece of Gold
At the maiden’s bidding. Unswerving all the while she stayed
And smeared on the head of the monster her unguent, till Jason bade,
Till himself said, ‘Turn we again, and fare to the galley aback.’
Then left she the War-god’s grove, where the vast shades brooded black.
And even as a maiden may catch on her vesture of delicate thread
The light of the mid-month’s moon, when she saileth the heavens overhead
Her high-roofed bridal bower, and her heart in her breast is aglow
With joy that her eyes behold that lovely splendour; so {170}
Exulting did Jason the mighty Fleece in his hands upraise.
And suddenly over his forehead and over his sunburnt face
From its shimmering flocks there rested a flush that flamelike shined.
And great as the hide of a yearling steer, or the fell of a hind
That is callèd a brocket in speech of the hunters of the wold,
So great was its length and its breadth all overtufted with gold,
Heavy with flocks thick-clustered; and ever as onward he passed
From under his feet the earth an answering sheen upcast.
Now veiling the man’s left shoulder the gleaming burden shone
Down-trailed from the height of his neck to his heel as he trod, and anon {180}
Did he gather it up in his clutch, for that sorely he feared the while
Lest a God or a man might meet him and wrest from his hands the spoil.
Dawn over the earth was spread, and now those twain returned
To their company. Marvelled the youths to behold how the great Fleece burned
A splendour as lightning of Zeus. Upsprang they, for eager-keen
Was each man to touch the glory, and clasp it his hands between.
But the son of Aison withheld them: a mantle thereover he threw
New-woven, to hide it. To Argo’s stern the maiden he drew,
And he seated her there; and he spake to the heroes all his rede:
‘No longer forbear now, friends, to your fatherland homeward to speed: {190}
For the emprise now for the which we dared the peril and pain
Of a desperate voyage, toiling with bitter travail and strain,
All this by the maiden’s counsels lightly hath been fulfilled.
To the home-land her will I bring—yea, so herself hath willed—
My bride true-wedded: but ye, forasmuch as the saviour she is
Of all Achaia-land, and of your own souls, I wis,
Save her; for surely, I ween, will Aiêtes with all his array
Go forth, with intent from the river seaward to bar our way.
Now down through the ship, man ranged after man in order arow,
Shall the half of you sit at the oars to toil, that the half of you so {200}
May uplift the ox-hide shields for a fence from the darts of the foe,
Guarding our home-return. Lo, now in our hands do we bear
Our children, our fatherland dearly-beloved, and the silver hair
Of our sires; and with this our venture the fate of Hellas is bound,
Or to reap confusion of face, or a glory far-renowned.’
So spake he, and donned his harness of fight; and shouted the crew
With wondrous-eager souls; and forth of the scabbard he drew
His sword, and the ship’s stern-hawsers he severed in twain with the brand.
And hard by the maiden, in armour clad, hath he taken his stand
By Ankaius the helmsman, and flashed the oars as the good ship raced, {210}
As to speed her forth of the river they strained in desperate haste.
But by this to Aiêtes the king and to all the Kolchians known
Was Medea’s love, and revealed were all the deeds she had done.
And they swarmed to the gathering-place in their harness of battle, untold
As the crested waves of the sea by the stormy wind uprolled,
Or as leaves of the forest myriad-branched that earthward sail
In the month of the fall of the leaf—whereof who telleth the tale?
So numberless these went pouring the banks of the river along
With frenzy of shouting: on fair-fashioned chariot amidst of the throng
Glorious Aiêtes showed above all with his steeds, the gift {220}
Of the Sun-god; for even as the blasts of the wind were they passing-swift.
In his left hand his shapely-rounded buckler on high did he rear,
And a pine-brand exceeding huge in his right: and his giant spear
Beside him rose up straight and high; and the reins of the car
Absyrtus grasped in his hands. But Argo by this was afar
Cleaving the brine, to the stalwart oarsmen’s stroke as she leapt
By the down-rushing flood of the mighty river seaward swept.
But the king in a madness of anguish uplifted his hands to the sky:
To the Sun and to Zeus, the beholders of evil deeds, did he cry;
And he turned him to all his host, and he shouted terribly: {230}
‘Except ye lay hands on the maiden, and seize, or on land it may be,
Or finding their ship yet tossed on the swell of the open sea,
And bring her, that so I may glut my fury, wherewith I burn
For revenge, on your own heads all these things shall light: ye shall learn
The measure of all my wrath and all my revenging then.’
So spake Aiêtes: on that same day did the Kolchian men
Launch forth their galleys, and cast in the ships their tackling-array,
And the selfsame day sailed forth on the sea: thou wouldst not say
That so mighty a host was this of ships, but in crowd on crowd
The nations of bird-folk over the sea were clamouring loud. {240}
Swiftly the wind blew, even as Hêrê the Goddess planned,
To the end that Aiaian Medea might reach the Pelasgian land
Right soon, that in her might the bane of Pelias’ house be found.
So the men with the third day’s dawn the hawsers of Argo bound
To the Paphlagons’ strand, where the sea and the waters of Halys meet:
For Medea bade them to land, and with sacrifice to entreat
Hekatê’s grace. What things for that incantation of hell
The maiden prepared and offered, thereof let no man tell.
Let my spirit enkindle me not to darken therewith my lay!
Yea, awe refraineth my lips. Yet the altar on that far day {250}
To the Goddess upreared by the heroes hard by the breaking sea
Yet standeth, a sign to be seen of the children of days to be.
Straightway to Aison’s son, and the heroes withal, came back
Remembrance of Phineus, and how that he spake of another track
To be found from Aia: howbeit to all was his meaning dim,
Till Argus arose and spake, and eager they hearkened to him:
‘We may win to Orchomenus, whither the prophecy bade us fare
Of the seer unerring, whose guests in the days overpast ye were.
For another voyaging-course there is, a sea-path shown
By the priests of the Deathless, the sons of Thêbê, Tritonis’ town. {260}
Not yet was the star-host, that whirl round heaven their chariots of fire:
Not yet of the sacred Danaan race, though a man should inquire,
Aught might he hear. Apidanian Arcadians alone on the earth
Dwelt—the Arcadians which lived, or ever the moon had birth,
Mid the mountains acorn-sustained, it is told. No sceptred hand
Of Deukalion’s glorious line ruled then the Pelasgian land,
In the days when men called Egypt, the fruitful land of corn,
The Morning-land, the mother of peoples elder-born.
And of Trito her fair-flowing river was named, of whom all the plain
Of the Morning-land is watered; for never descendeth the rain {270}
From Zeus thereupon: from his floods the stintless harvests spring.
From that land, say they, a certain king went journeying
All Europe and Asia through, by the strength and the prowess made bold
And the aweless might of his people, and cities he builded untold
Whithersoever he came, whereof some remain to this day,
Some not, for that long generations since then have passed away.
But Aia abideth unshaken: a nation the sons’ sons yet
Abide of the men whose dwelling in Aia the hero set.
And graven memorials these men keep of their fathers’ days
Upon pillars, whereon is every bourne and all the ways {280}
Of the watery waste and the land, as ye journey on all sides round.
Now a river, the uttermost horn of the Ocean, therein is found,
Wide and exceeding deep, that a dromond may sail the same.
Far on their chart have they traced it, and Ister they named its name.
And awhile through the boundless tilthland it cleaveth its way afar
As but one; for beyond the North-wind’s blasts its fountains are,
Where midst the Rhipaian mountains it bursteth forth in thunder:
But so soon as it parteth the Thracian and Scythian marches asunder,
There is it cleft in twain, and the half of its flood it sendeth
Hereby to the sea Ionian, the residue southward trendeth {290}
Where a deep gulf up from the sea Trinacrian northward bendeth—
That sea which lieth beside your land, if the tale be true
That forth of your land Acheloüs the river fleeteth thereto.’
So spake he; and sent by the Goddess a happy portent came;
And all they looking thereunto hailed it with joyful acclaim
For a sign that their voyaging-track was this: for a splendour in heaven
Shone in a far-stretching furrow to point where their path was given.
And there glad-hearted they left the son of Lykus, and fled
With wide-spread canvas over the sea, looking back as they sped
On the Paphlagonian Hills, neither rounded Karambis-head, {300}
Forasmuch as the breezes held, and the heavenly fire’s long gleam
Shone ever before, till they won unto Ister’s mighty stream.
Now the rest of the Kolchian host, when nothing their search availed,
Forth through the Crags Dark-blue from the Pontus-sea had sailed.
But others went to the river, whose chieftain Absyrtus was;
And unto the Fair Mouth turning aside from the sea did he pass,
And prevented them, mooring beyond the neck of land that ran
Athwart the innermost gulf of the sea Ionian.
For around the island Peukê the waters of Ister pour,
An isle three-cornered, whose breadth looketh out on the breakers hoar, {310}
And the narrow point up-stream, and about it the flood’s outfall
Is cleft in twain; and the one the passage of Narex they call;
And that on the nether side the Fair Mouth: even thereby
The Kolchian array with Absyrtus anchored hastily;
While the heroes sailed far up to the uttermost spur of the isle.
Now the field-abiding shepherds forsook in the meadows the while
Flocks without number, for dread of the ships; for they weened that these
Were beasts that had risen out of the monster-teeming seas.
For never on galleys that ride the waves had they gazed ere then,
Nor they, nor the Thracian Scythians, nor yet the Sigynian men, {320}
Nor yet the Graukenian folk, nor the Sindian tribes that abide
Round Laurium now, on the steppes of the wilderness boundless-wide.
But when they had run by Angurus, the Kauliac cliffs withal—
Afar from Angurus the mountain riseth their long rock-wall—
Around which Ister divideth, and this way and that way run
His rushing waters, and out to the Laurian plain they won,
Then forth to the Kronian Sea the Kolchians came, and beset
All the outgoings thereof, that the quarry might ’scape not their net.
So Argo, descending behind them the flood, passed forth hard by
Where islands twain, the Brygêïan Isles of Artemis, lie. {330}
Now it fell that in one of these a hallowed temple stood;
In the other the heroes, avoiding Absyrtus’ multitude
Landed, seeing the foe had left those twin isles void
Of their host, for awe of the Daughter of Zeus; but all beside,
Thronged with the Kolchian men, barred every seaward way.
Yea, too, of their host upon other isles hard by left they
Which betwixt the Nestian land and Salanko the river lay.
There, being few against many, that day had the Minyan men
Yielded in that grim fight to their foes: howbeit ere then
Made they a covenant, fain that the strife should abide unstriven. {340}
For the Golden Fleece,—forasmuch as Aiêtes’ pledge had been given
To the heroes therefor, if the ordeal they dared, and accomplished the toil—
That prize should they keep, as lawfully won; yea, whether their guile
Or their strength in the king’s despite had prevailed that splendour to win.
But as touching Medea—for stubborn the wrangling waxed herein—
Unto Lêto’s Daughter, aloof from the throng, should they give her in ward,
Till her cause should be judged of a king, some justice-dispensing lord,
Whether he doom that they yield her up to return to the home
Of her father, or doom her to Hellas-land with the heroes to come.
Now so soon as the maiden mused upon all things purposed of these, {350}
With keen-thrilling anguish her heart was tempest-tossed without cease:
And straightway she called forth Jason aloof from his comrades alone,
And she led him away and away, till far apart were they gone:
There uttered she speech all broken with sobs, as she looked in his eyes:
‘O Aison’s son, what purpose is this that now ye devise
Touching me? Hath thy triumph brought utter forgetfulness unto thee?
Dost thou nothing regard thy promises, all that thou spakest to me
In stress of thy need? Where now are the oaths of the Suppliants’ King
Zeus?—and thine honied promises, whither have these taken wing?
By reason of these, in unseemly wise, with passion unshamed {360}
I forsook my fatherland home, and the glory of halls far-famed,
Yea, and my parents—all that was most unto me; and I sail
Far over the sea alone, where the plaintive sea-mews wail,
Because of thy trouble, that I might redeem from destruction thy life
To accomplish the fire-bulls’ quelling, the Earth-born giants’ strife.
Yea, and the very Fleece, for the which ye had sailed to our shore,
All by my folly ye won. Foul shame thereby did I pour
On womankind! Wherefore, I say, as thy daughter, thy wife, I stand,
Yea, and thy sister, who follow thee back unto Hellas-land.
Oh now with purpose of heart stand by me, neither forsake me {370}
Afar and forlorn of thee, to the gathering of kings to betake thee!
But in any wise save me; and sealed abide thy solemn vow,
Which is plighted, by justice of man and of God; or else do thou
Shear, of thy pity, this my throat with thy falchion through,
That so for my frenzied love I may reap the guerdon due.
O heartless!—if that he doom that my brother’s prey I remain,
This king unto whose stern judgment ye now would commit, ye twain,
Your cruel covenant, how shall I come to my father’s sight?
With glory in sooth!—what revenges, what devilish torment will light
Upon me!—what agony-cup shall I drain for the dreadful deed {380}
That I wrought! Oh, never think that in bliss your return shall speed!
Ne’er may the World’s Queen, bride of Zeus, accomplish for thee—
She in whom thou delightest—this! Then may’st thou remember me
When anguish-racked: may the Fleece like a dream fleet away from thine hand
Down the wind to the netherworld-gloom! Be thou chased from thy fatherland
By the Spirits of Vengeance for me, even after the measure of all
That through thy betrayal I suffered! That earthward my curses should fall
Unaccomplished, shall God forbid; for a great oath thou hast transgressed,
O ruthless! Not long, for all this covenant-plight, at rest
From your troubles, on me shall ye wink with the eye, to make me your jest.’ {390}
So spake she, seething with vehement rage: fierce-eager was she
To fire the ship, and to hew it in pieces utterly,
And to hurl herself mid the ravening flame. But, half-adread,
Did Jason essay to soothe her with gentle words; and he said:
‘Ah, lady, forbear: me too this covenant liketh not.
Only a little delay from the strife herein have we sought:
Such a host of foes like a cloud of fire is on every side
For thy sake. Yea, and the folk which in this same land abide
Be eager to help Absyrtus, that back again to the hall
Of thy sire he may hale thee like to a captive battle-thrall. {400}
Howbeit should we in hateful destruction all be slain
If we closed in the fight with these; and therein were bitterer pain,
If we leave thee a prey no less unto these, and withal we die.
But now shall this covenant find us a path of guile, whereby
To destroy him. The folk of the land shall not be fain as before
To favour the Kolchians in thee, when their king shall be with them no more,
He who forsooth as thy champion and brother doth claim thee to-day.
Yea also, I will not refrain me from matching my might in the fray
With the Kolchian men, if then they bar mine homeward way.’
For her comfort he spake; but with deadly words did she make reply: {410}
‘Give heed now:—it needs must be, when peril and shame are nigh,
That we likewise counsel thereafter. Distraught I was at the first
In mine error, and god-misguided accomplished desires accurst.
Do thou be my shield from the Kolchian spears in the toil of the strife,
And I will beguile this man to lay in thine hands his life.
He shall come: and with dazzling gifts of welcoming win thou his heart,
If I haply persuade the heralds to hold themselves apart,
And draw him alone unto me to hearken the thing I would say.
Then thou, if this deed be good in thy sight—I say not nay—
Slay him, and meet thereafter the Kolchian men in the fray.’ {420}
Even so these twain consented, and twined the net of guile
For Absyrtus; and many a gift of welcome prepared they the while.
And with these a sacred mantle, a woven crimson flame,
Gave they, Hypsipylê’s gift. The Graces had fashioned the same
For the God Dionysus in sea-girt Dia; and he on his son,
Thoas, bestowed it; and this at his fleeing Hypsipylê won.
And, with many a lovely marvel, that parting-gift wrought fair
She gave unto Aison’s son. Thine hands would linger there
Touching, thine eyes beholding, ever unsatisfied.
And a scent ambrosial breathed therefrom, since that sweet tide {430}
When the King Nysaian himself thereon lay down to rest,
With wine and with nectar flushed, lay clasping the beauteous breast
Of the maiden the daughter of Minos, who sailed from the Knossian land
With Theseus, and there was forsaken of him upon Dia’s strand.
And Medea wrought on the heralds—for subtlest speech did she frame
To beguile them—when unto the Goddess’s temple Absyrtus came
For the covenant’s sake, and when night’s black pall should around them be rolled,
To depart, that with him she might plot to take that Fleece of Gold
From the heroes, and bearing the prize with him to fare again
To Aiêtes’ halls, for that Phrixus’ sons by force had ta’en {440}
And had given her unto the strangers a captive to bear overseas.
Even so she beguiled them; and wide through the air and afar on the breeze
Cast she her witchery-spells, of might to draw from his lair
On the trackless mountain the wild beast, lurk he how distant soe’er.
Ah, ruthless Love, great grief, great curse to the sons of earth!
Of thee fell feuds, and anguish-moans, and laments have birth;
From thee therewithal unnumbered woes as a flood forth burst.
’Gainst the sons of our foes, thou god, array thee battle-athirst,
As when thou didst thrill the heart of Medea with madness accurst!
But how, when to meet her he came, by an evil doom did she quell {450}
Absyrtus?—for this thing next must the song in order tell.
When the heroes had left the maiden on Artemis’ island-strand
By the covenant, ran they their ships in a several place aland,
Even Kolchians and Minyans. Then to his ambush did Jason hie,
For Absyrtus to lie in wait, and for them of his company.
And now that hero, deathward-beguiled by their promise dread,
Over the swell of the sea in his galley swiftly sped,
And under the mirk night stepped on the Isle of the Holy Place,
And alone fared onward to meet his sister face to face,
And to try her with words,—as though some tender child should try {460}
A wintertide torrent, when strong men may not cross thereby!—
If perchance she would weave him a treachery-snare for the stranger-crew.
And now were they making agreement for all these things, they two,
When suddenly out of the gloom of his ambush the Aisonid leapt
Uplifting his naked sword in his hand: and the maiden swept
Her veil o’er her eyes, as she turned them away for averting of guilt
That she might not behold the blood of her slaughtered brother spilt,
And him, as a flesher felleth a strong-horned bull, even so
Did he mark him, and smite him, hard by the fane which long ago
The Brygians which dwelt on the mainland-shore unto Artemis wrought. {470}
In the porchway thereof on his knees he fell; and the hero caught
In his hands, as he gasped his latest breath, the dark-red tide
As it welled from the gash, and he hurled that murder-rain, that it dyed
Crimson her silver veil and her robe, as she shrank aside.
And with swift side-glance the all-quelling Vengeance-fiend espied,
And her pitiless eye beheld that murderous deed they had done.
But the ends of the dead man’s limbs then severed Aison’s son:
Thrice licked he the blood from the sod, thrice spat it again to the dust,
As the slayer must do that atonement be made for the treachery-thrust.
Then hid he the clammy corpse in the ground, where unto this day {480}
In the land of Absyrtan men be those bones lapped in clay.
Now the heroes the while gazed forth through the night, and beheld where shone
The glare of a torch which the maiden upraised for a sign to set on;
And alongside the Kolchian galley they laid their ship straightway,
And they slaughtered the crew of the Kolchians, even as wild hawks slay
The tribes of the woodland cushats, or lions of the wold
Drive huddled a mighty flock, when they leap to the midst of the fold.
No, of them all was there none that escaped, but on all that throng
Even as flame making havoc they rushed; and it seemed o’erlong
Ere Jason, afire for their helping, came: no need of his aid
Had they; nay rather for him by this were their hearts afraid. {490}
Thereafter they sat them down to devise for their voyaging
Deep counsel; and, yet as they mused, stole into the midst of the ring
The maiden. And Peleus resolved him the first, and he spake the thing:
‘Now call I upon you to enter up into the ship, and to row
Cleaving your sea-path onward, while yet it is night, and the foe
Tarry; for when with the dawn they shall see and be ware of their plight,
There is no man, I trust me, who, bidding them follow the track of your flight,
Shall win them to hearken a word; but, as folk of their king bereft,
With grievous dissension shall these, and with faction, asunder be cleft. {500}
Wherefore our path henceforward,—when sundered our foemen are
Each from his fellow,—to Hellas home shall be easier far.’
He spake, and the young men praised the counsel of Aiakus’ child;
And they entered the ship with haste, and they grasped the oars, and they toiled
Without rest, till they won by the sacred isle of Elektra—the same
Of the eyots is highest—and so to the river Eridanus came.
Now the Kolchians, so soon as the doom of their murdered king they knew,
Eager were they for Argo to search and her Minyan crew
Through all the Kronian Sea: but Hêrê held them back
By terrible lightnings that flashed evermore from the cloudy rack, {510}
That they shuddered at last when they thought on their homes in Kytaia-land,
And quailed for Aiêtes’ wrath, and a king’s avenging hand.
So went they ashore, and abiding homes in the land they made
Far-scattered; for some set foot on the selfsame isles where stayed
The heroes;—the name of Absyrtus yet do the islanders bear;—
By the river Illyrican’s darkling depths did others rear
A tower-girt burg where the tomb of Harmonia and Kadmus doth stand:
With Enchelean men do they dwell: and some in the mountain-land
Amidst of the ridges abide which the Crests of Thunder they call
Since the day when crashed the thunders of Zeus their souls to appal, {520}
That they crossed not over the flood to the isle, on the heroes to fall.
Now these, when they weened that the home-return’s grim peril was past,
Who had gotten so far on now, made Argo’s hawsers fast
To the strand Hyllaian; for thick in the river the eyots lie,
And a troublous track they make it for them that would voyage thereby.
And the folk Hyllaian devised not their hurt, as in that past day:
Nay, rather they did their endeavour to help them forth on their way.
And they won for their guerdon the mighty tripod Apollo gave.
For tripods twain had Phœbus bestowed, far over the wave
To be borne in the Quest of Aison’s son, when to Pytho’s shrine {530}
He wended, to ask touching this same voyage the purpose divine.
And this was their weird, that in whatso land those tripods were placed,
That land no foes breaking in thereupon should prevail to waste.
Wherefore in that land yet by Hyllê’s pleasant town
That tripod abideth, hidden beneath the earth deep down,
That the talisman so may continue of men unseen for aye.
Howbeit their king no longer alive in the land found they,
Even Hyllus, whom Melitê lovely-faced unto Herakles bare
In Phaeacia-land; for of old to the halls did the hero fare
Of Nausithous and Makris, the nurse of the God Dionysus: defiled {540}
With the blood of his children, he came to be cleansed. There saw he the child
Of Aigaius the river, even the Naiad Melitê:
And he loved her, and humbled the maid, and Hyllus the strong bare she
In Phaeacia-land. And he dwelt in Nausithous’ halls awhile,
Being yet but a little one: but he left thereafter the isle.
For, as waxed within him his might, he brooked no longer to stay
At a king’s beck there in the island that owned Nausithous’ sway.
But he fared to the Kronian Sea, and a host of her sons forth led
From Phaeacia-land: yea, also the king his journeying sped,
The hero Nausithous. There did he stablish his home, and was slain {550}
Defending his kine from the Mentors, the rovers of the main.
Now, Goddesses, tell how Argo’s wondrous ensign came
Without this sea, by Ausonia-land, and the isles men name
The ‘Long Row,’ lone sea-cradles that nurse a Ligurian seed—
How stood clear forth mid-sea—what strong constraint, what need
Thitherward led her, what breezes they were that wafted her speed.
’Twas, I ween, when Absyrtus had fallen in mighty overthrow,
That the wrath of Zeus, the King of the Gods, for their deed was aglow.
Yet he ordained the transgressors to cleanse them of murder’s stain
By the counsels of Circê, and so, after measureless travail and pain, {560}
Home to return; yet this of the princes did no man know.
But they sped, when the land Hyllaian sank on the sea-marge low,
Afar; and they left behind them the isles that were thronged erewhile
With the Kolchians, isle Liburnian ranged in the sea after isle,
Issa, Dyskeladus, then Pityeia’s lovely shore.
So passed they these, and overagainst Kerkyra they bore.
There was it Poseidon caused Asôpus’ daughter to rest,
When by reason of love he wafted Kerkyra the beautiful-tressed
From the land of Phlius afar: and mariners marking it swell
Blackening up from the sea, while all about it fell {570}
The folds of its darkling forests, named it Kerkyra the Black.
Thence sped they by Melitê, glad for the breeze blowing soft on their track.
By Kerôsus the steep, and, far in the offing and faint as it showed,
By Nymphaia they fleeted, the isle where the Lady Kalypso abode,
The daughter of Atlas: and misty and doubtful appeared to their ken
The Crests of Thunder. And known unto Hêrê even then
Were the counsels of Zeus concerning these, and his mighty wrath.
Yet devised she how that great voyage should prosper, and full in their path
Uproused she against them the storm-winds, which caught them, and backward swept
To Elektra’s rocky isle. But, from surge unto surge as they leapt, {580}
Suddenly heard they a beam with a man’s voice cry unto them
Out of the hollow ship, the which in the midst of the stem
Athênê had set—it was hewn from an oak in Dodona that grew;
And deadliest fear laid hold upon them as they hearkened thereto,
To the voice revealing the wrath of Zeus, and the stern decree
Which ordained that they should not escape from the paths of an endless sea,
And affliction of tempests, till Circê should purge the guilt away
Of Absyrtus’ ruthless murder. Moreover the voice bade pray
Polydeukes and Kastor withal to the Gods everlasting, to grant
First through the Ausonian sea a path to the secret haunt {590}
Of Circê, the daughter whom Persê unto the Sun-god bare.
So Argo cried through the darkness: uprose that god-born pair,
Tyndareus’ sons, and their hands to the deathless Gods did they raise
Praying the prayer commanded; but hushed in awed amaze
Were the rest of the Minyan heroes. On under canvas, and on,
Leapt Argo, till deep within Eridanus’ river they won.
There, stricken of old on the breast with the smouldering levin-fire,
Phaethon half-consumed from the car of his Sun-god sire
Fell into the gulf of the fathomless mere; and the seething stream
From his burning wound even yet upbelcheth clouds of steam. {600}
Neither across that water outspreading her pinions light
Any fowl of the air may win her way, but, even mid-flight
Faint-fluttering, down mid the flame it plungeth. On either side
Round poplars slim the Sun-god’s daughters in slow dance glide,
In misery wailing a piteous plaint, and adown from their eyne
Raining to earth do the glittering drops of amber shine.
These, parched by the beams of the sun, lie strewn at their feet on the sand;
But whensoever the blasts of the wailing wind on the strand
Are dashing the dark mere’s surging billows and onward hurling,
Then to Eridanus roll they, a huddled throng on-whirling {610}
In a rippling stream. Now a legend thereof do the Kelt-folk tell
How that these which in eddies be tossed be the tears from Apollo that fell,
Even Lêto’s son, which he shed without number in ancient days,
What time he came to the Hyperboreans’ sacred race,
By his father’s threatenings driven from the sunlit heaven to the earth,
Wroth for his son, unto whom Karônis the Nymph gave birth
In bright Lakyreia, where Amyrus’ outfall seaward is rolled.
Yea, such is the tale of these that amidst that people is told.
And, thereon as they sailed, no care for meat nor for drink had they,
Neither turned their thoughts unto gladness; but ever day by day {620}
Sorely afflicted they were till their burdened hearts grew faint
With the noisome stench that uprose, the unendurable taint
From Eridanus’ streams that reeked of Phaethon burning still.
And ever by night they hearkened the shriek of the long wail shrill
From the Sun-god’s daughters lamenting. Their tears, as they mourned and wept,