Come, Erato, now, stand by me: of thy lips let me be taught
In what manner thereafter Jason the Fleece to Iolkos brought
Through the love of Medea: for thou in the things by the Cyprian ordained
Hast part, and maidens unwedded by thine enchantments are chained;
Wherefore it is that a name that telleth of love thou hast gained.
So there in the close-pleached covert of river-reeds unseen
Did the heroes in ambush wait. Then marked them Hêrê the queen
And Athênê withal; and aloof from Zeus’ self turned they aside,
And the rest of the Gods everlasting, and into a chamber they hied
For counsel: and first spake Hêrê, to try Athênê therein: {10}
‘Thyself now first, O daughter of Zeus, our counsel begin.
What needeth to do? Wilt thou frame some subtle device, that these
May win from Aiêtes and bear unto Hellas the Golden Fleece?
Or with words shall they overpersuade him, with soft speech melt him to ruth?
Now nay, for a proud and haughty scorner he is in sooth:
Yet it may not in any wise be that our emprise turn aside.’
So did she speak; and straightway to her Athênê replied:
‘Yea, mine heart even as thine herein was pondering
When with questions thou searchedst me, Hêrê. Howbeit, as touching the thing,
Not yet in mine heart have I found this wile, which shall help the need {20}
Of the soul of the chieftains: and yet have I mused upon many a rede.’
She spake; and their eyes on the threshold before their feet they cast,
As they pondered of this and of that, till Hêrê cried at the last—
For a thought in her heart had birth, and her word was first again:—
‘Let us hence to the Cyprian Queen; and when we be come, we twain
Will pray her to bid her son, if perchance he will do this deed,
At Aiêtes’ sorceress-daughter a shaft from his bow to speed,
And bewitch her with love for Jason: by her devising, I trow,
Bearing the Fleece away unto Hellas the hero shall go.’
She spake; and her counsel of wisdom pleased Athênê well; {30}
And she answered—and now from her lips soft words of persuasion fell:—
‘Hêrê, my father begat me unweeting of shafts of love:
Nothing I know of desire, or the magic spells thereof.
But if this word pleaseth thyself, of a truth will I go with thee.
Yet thou must speak our request when the Cyprian’s face we see.’
Then soared they away, and unto the mighty palace they came
Of Kypris: her lord the Halt-foot God had builded the same
For his bride, when he led her forth from the halls of Zeus of yore.
So they entered the courts, and under the chamber-corridor
Stood, where the hands of the Goddess the couch of Hephaistus prepared. {40}
But he at the dawning thence to his forges and anvils had fared
In the cavern wide of a sea-washed isle, where he aye wrought on
With the fire-blasts fashioning manifold marvels: but she alone
Facing the doors of the palace sat in a carven chair.
Over her shoulders white had she loosened the waves of her hair,
And a golden comb through their ripples she drew, and now would she braid
The long plaits up; but before her beheld she the twain, and she stayed
Her hand, and she rose from her throne, and she bade them within her hall,
And on couches she caused them to sit; thereafter herself withal
Sat down, and her uncombed tresses coiled she about her head; {50}
And smiling innocent-arch to the Goddesses twain she said:
‘Dear sisters, what purpose or need hath brought you hither at last
Who have tarried so long afar? Why come ye? In days overpast
Not oft hath your presence been here—too great for such as I!’
Then unto her did Hêrê with stately speech reply:
‘Thou mockest, the while our heart with calamity’s shadow is dark,
For that even now in Phasis the river moored is the bark
Of Aison’s son, and the rest on the Quest of the Fleece that have come.
For all their sakes—for that nigh is the deed and the hour of doom—
Exceeding sorely we fear, but most for Aison’s son. {60}
Him I—yea, though unto Hades now he were voyaging on
To break those fetters of brass wherewithal Ixion is bound—
Will deliver, so far as strength in these my limbs is found,
Lest Pelias should laugh, having ’scaped the doom, his iniquity’s price,
Who in pride of his heart hath left me unhonoured with sacrifice.
Yea, and before that Jason was passing dear unto me,
Even since, when Anaurus’ outfall in full flood poured to the sea,
In the day when men’s heart-righteousness fain would I prove and know,
Coming back from the hunting he met me; and all overmantled with snow
Were the mountain-ridges and towering peaks, and adown from them poured {70}
The winter-tide floods, and the rolling torrents rattled and roared;
And he pitied the grey old crone, and he took me up at my prayer,
And over the seaward-madding flood on his shoulders he bare.
Therefore I honour him now, and will honour: unharmed shall he be
Of Pelias’ spite,—yea, though his return be unaided of thee.’
So spake she: the lips of Kypris could frame no word for a space,
In her awe to behold great Hêrê asking of her a grace.
And with courteous-gentle speech then spake she answering:
‘O Goddess dread, may there never be found any viler thing
Than Kypris, if I shall set at naught desire of thine {80}
Or in word or in deed, whatsoever these frail hands of mine
May avail; and for all that I do nor thank nor requital would I.’
So spake she; and Hêrê again in her wisdom made reply:
‘It is nowise for lack of might that we come, nor of strength of hand.
But thou to thy child in peaceful quietness speak thy command
To bewitch Aiêtes’ daughter with love for Aison’s seed;
For if she with her counsel shall help him, with loving favour lead,
Lightly, I ween, shall the hero win the Fleece of Gold,
And return to Iolkos, seeing the maiden is subtle-souled.’
So did she speak; and the Lady of Cyprus answered thereto: {90}
‘Hêrê, Athênê, my child would render obedience to you
More than to me: in your presence a little abashed shall he be,
Bold boy though he be:—but nothing at all he regardeth me.
But ever he striveth against me, and laugheth mine hests to scorn.
Yea, I am minded, by that his naughtiness overborne,
His evil-sounding shafts and his bow therewithal to break
Full in his sight: for of late this threat in his anger he spake,
That, if I refrained not mine hands while his passion within him was strong,
My scathe upon mine own head should be, upon me the wrong.’
So spake she: the Goddesses smiled, and each in her fellow’s eyes {100}
Looked: but again she spake, and her speech was burdened with sighs:
‘Unto others my griefs be for laughter alone, and I ought not so
To tell them to all:—enough that mine heart must its bitterness know.
Howbeit, if this be all your soul’s desire this day,
I will try, and with soft words win him: he shall not say me nay.’
She spake; and with touch caressing did Hêrê her slim hand take,
And, softly smiling the while, she answered, and thus she spake:
‘Even so, Kythereia, with speed perform thou this our request
As thou sayest; and vex not thyself, neither strive with angered breast
With thy child: from his troubling of thee hereafter shalt thou have rest.’ {110}
She spake, and she rose from her seat, and Athênê passed at her side,
As forth they sped and away, they twain: but the Cyprian hied
To Olympus, and down its ridges, seeking her child, she passed.
And in Zeus’s fruitful orchard-close she found him at last,
Not alone, Ganymedes was with him, the boy whom Zeus on a day
From earth unto heaven had brought to abide with Immortals for aye,
When he greatly desired his beauty. With golden dice these two
Were playing, even as boys like-minded be wont to do.
And already Eros the greedy the palm of his left hand pressed,
Filled full with the golden spoils of his winning, against his breast, {120}
Standing upright; the while a sweet flush mantled and glowed
O’er the bloom of his cheeks: but the other was crouching on bent knees bowed
In downcast silence: he had but twain; on the earth he flung
One after other, by Eros’s gibing laughter stung.
But, even as fared the former, he lost them, the last of his dice;
And with empty and helpless hands he went; and his down-drooped eyes
Marked not the coming of Kypris. Before her child did she stand,
And with loving chiding she spake, as she laid on his lips her hand:
‘Why smil’st thou in triumph, thou naughty varlet? Hast thou not beguiled
Thy playmate?—and fairly hast thou overcome that innocent child? {130}
Go to now, accomplish my bidding, the thing that I shall ask;
And the plaything exceeding fair of Zeus shall requite thy task,
Which was fashioned by Adresteia his nurse for her babe’s delight,
When, a child, he thought as a child, in the cave ’neath Ida’s height.
A ball fair-rounded it is: no goodlier toy, I wot,
Couldst thou get thee mid all the marvels by hands of Hephaistus wrought.
Of gold be the zones of it fashioned; and round each several one
Twofold be the seams of broidery-thread that encircling run.
But the stitches thereof be hidden: there coileth around them all
A spiral of blue. From thine hand if thou cast it on high, that ball {140}
Even as a star shall flash through the air in a fiery glow.
This will I give thee—but thou must bewitch with a shaft from thy bow
Aiêtes’ daughter with love for Jason. But see that herein
Thou tarry not; else a meaner requital than this shalt thou win.’
So spake she, and welcome the word was; with gladness he heard that thing:
And he cast away those toys, and with eager hands did he cling
Clasping the Goddess’s raiment about on either side.
And he pleaded with her even then to bestow it: but Kypris replied
With gentle words,—and his cheeks unto hers she drew the while,
And clasping him close she kissed him, and answer she made with a smile: {150}
‘Be witness now thy beloved head, yea, also mine,
That I will not defraud thee: indeed and in truth the gift shall be thine,
When the heart of Aiêtes’ daughter is pierced by thine arrow divine.’
Then gathered he up his dice, and the tale of them heedfully told,
And he cast them into his mother’s glistering bosom-fold.
By his baldric of gold he slung from his shoulder the quiver that leant
On a tree-trunk, and took the bow for sorrow of mortals bent.
From the fruitful orchard of Zeus’s palace forth did he fare,
And thereafter came to Olympus’ portals high in air.
Thence is a sheer-descending path from the height of the sky; {160}
And there the Poles, twin mountains, uplift their heads on high,
Precipice-steeps, earth’s loftiest-towering crests, whereon
With his earliest rays at the dawning uplifted resteth the sun.
Far under, the life-sustaining earth and the cities slept
Of men, and the sacred rivers; anon before him upleapt
Hill-peaks, and outspread the sea, through the wide air on as he swept.
Now the heroes apart on the thwarts of their galley in ambush yet,
Where the backwater gleamed of the river, for taking of counsel were met:
And the son of Aison himself was speaking, and all they heard,
As row upon row in their places they sat, and none spake word: {170}
‘O friends, of a truth the thing that seemeth good in mine eyes,
That will I utter; howbeit with you the fulfilment lies.
This Quest all share, and in counsel and speech all ye have part.
Whosoever in silence withholdeth his rede and the thoughts of his heart,
Let him know, he only bereaveth of home-return our Quest.
Now I counsel that ye by the ship with your war-gear abide at rest.
But I, even I, will go forth first to Aiêtes’ hall.
I will take but the sons of Phrixus, and twain of the rest therewithal.
And I, when I meet him, with words will first make trial, to know
If he haply for lovingkindness the Fleece of Gold will bestow, {180}
Or will grant it not, but in pride of his might will set us at naught.
For so, when the lesson of evil first by himself hath been taught,
Shall we then advise us, whether the ordeal of battle to try,
Or if other device shall avail us, refraining the onset-cry.
But let us not rashly, or ever persuasion be put to the test,
Despoil this man of his own possession:—nay, it were best
To come before him, and first with speech his grace to win:—
Yea, oft fair speech hath prevailed in a matter, and lightly—wherein
Little had prowess availed—for that winsomely it stole
On the heart: yea hereby Phrixus wrought on the grim king’s soul, {190}
When a stepdame’s guile and the sacrifice-stroke of a father he fled,
To receive him: in no man’s breast is shame so utterly dead,
But he honoureth Guest-ward Zeus, and regardeth his ordinance dread.’
Then praised they with one accord the counsel of Aison’s seed,
Nor did any man turn therefrom, to utter another rede.
Then called he on Phrixus’ children to follow, and chose of his band
Telamon and Augeias; moreover himself took Hermes’ wand.
Forthright from the ship over water and reed-fringed river-side
Passed they, and out beyond o’er the swell of the plain they hied.
The Plain Kirkaian, I wot, is it called, and, row upon row, {200}
Willows and osiers there exceeding many grow.
Mid their topmost branches cord-bound corpses be hanging there;
For to Kolchians unto this day an abomination it were
To burn on the pyre their men which have died; nor yet in the ground
Is their wont to lay them, and heap thereover the token-mound.
But in hides untanned of oxen they roll them, and hang midst trees
Without the city. Yet earth hath equal share in these
With the air; for in graves of the earth be they wont their women to lay.
Lo, this is their custom, and this their ordinance for aye.
Now, anigh as they drew, did Hêrê with loving thought for the men {210}
Spread thick mist all through the city, that so they might ’scape the ken
Of the thousands there, to Aiêtes’ hall while fared they on.
And when from the plain to Aiêtes’ city and palace they won,
Then straightway Hêrê scattered again that cloudy haze.
At the entrance they stood, and they looked on the courts of the king in amaze,
On the gateways wide, and the columns that all around the walls
In ordered lines uprose; and high on the roofs of the halls
Did a coping of stone upon rows of brazen triglyphs lie.
And over the threshold in peace they went. And hard thereby
Were garden-vines in fulness of blossom, mantled o’er {220}
With green leaves, high uplifted in air. And fountains four
Ever-flowing beneath them ran, which were delved with magic spell
By Hephaistus, the one whereof did with gushing of milk upwell,
And the second with wine, and the third with incense-breathing oil.
And with water the fourth ran; steaming for heat did the same upboil
At the setting-tide of the Pleiads; but out of its rock-hewn cave
Cold even as ice in their rising-season bubbled the wave.
Even such were the marvellous works that Hephaistus the craftwise God
Fashioned within Kytaian Aiêtes’ palace-abode.
And he wrought for him brazen-footed bulls, and their mouths were of brass, {230}
And the terrible splendour of blazing flame the breath of them was.
Moreover a plough of unbending adamant, all in one,
Did he forge for him, making therein his requital of thanks to the Sun,
Who had taken him up in his chariot, faint from the Phlegra fight.
There also was builded the inner court, and around it were pight
Many chambers on either hand with two-leaved doors fair-dight;
And without them a rich-wrought corridor ran to left and to right;
And athwart them the loftiest buildings rose upon either side,
Whereof one over its fellows uplifted its crest of pride:
Therein with his queen Aiêtes abode, the lord of the land; {240}
And thereby did the mansion fair of his son Absyrtus stand,
Whom a Nymph Caucasian, Asterodeia, bare to his bed
Or ever he led Eiduia home, his wife true-wed,
Daughter of Tethys and Ocean, even their youngest one:
But the sons of the Kolchians gave him a new name, Phaëthon,
‘The Shining,’ for all the youths were in beauty by him outshone.
In the rest did the handmaid-train and Aiêtes’ daughters abide,
Chalkiopê and Medea. And now had Medea hied
From her chamber forth to her sister’s; for Hêrê restrained her that day
That she went not abroad: but little she wont theretofore to stay {250}
In the palace, but all day long in the temple of Hekatê
Her conversation she had, for the Goddess’s priestess was she.
And she saw them, and cried aloud; and suddenly heard was her call
Of Chalkiopê: and her handmaids down at their feet let fall
Their yarn and their threads, and forth of the chamber ran they all
In a throng, and amidst them the mother: and there beholding her sons
She cast up her hands in her gladness; and those re-given ones
Greeted their mother, and lovingly gazed on her, folding her round
With their arms, till her words mid sobbings broken utterance found:
‘So then ye were not to leave me in lonely childless pain, {260}
And to wander afar; and fate hath turned you backward again.
O hapless I!—what yearning for Hellas awoke in your breasts,
By some strange woeful madness, at Phrixus your father’s behests?
Bitter affliction did he ordain, when dying he lay,
For mine heart!—O why to Orchomenus’ city far away—
Whosoe’er this Orchomenus be—for Athamas’ wealth should ye go,
Leaving your mother alone to bear her burden of woe?’
So spake she, and last came forth Aiêtes hastening,
And came Eiduia herself, the wife of Aiêtes the king,
When the outcry of Chalkiopê she heard. And the court straightway {270}
Was filled with a noisy throng; for some of the thralls ’gan flay
A huge ox, some with the brass ’gan cleave the billets dry,
And some with the fire ’gan heat the baths. There was none thereby
That lagged in his task, as they toiled beneath that stern king’s eye.
But Eros the while through the mist-grey air passed all unseen
Troubling them, even as heifers that hear the piping keen
Of the gadfly—‘the breese’ do the herders of oxen name the thing.
In the forecourt beneath the lintel swiftly his bow did he string:
From his quiver took he a shaft sigh-laden, unshot before:
With swift feet all unmarked hath he passed the threshold o’er, {280}
Keen-glancing around: he hath glided close by Aison’s son:
He hath grasped the string in the midst, and the arrow-notch laid thereon.
Straightway he strained it with both hands sundered wide apart,
And he shot at Medea; and speechless amazement filled her heart.
And the God himself from the high-roofed hall forth-flashing returned
Laughing aloud. Deep down in the maiden’s bosom burned
His arrow like unto flame; and at Aison’s son she cast
Side-glances of love evermore; and panted hard and fast
’Neath its burden the heart in her breast, nor did any remembrance remain
Of aught beside, but her soul was melted with rapturous pain. {290}
And as some poor daughter of toil, who hath distaff ever in hand,
Heapeth the slivers of wood about a blazing brand
To lighten her darkness with splendour her rafters beneath, when her eyes
Have prevented the dawn; and the flame, upleaping in wondrous wise
From the one little torch, ever waxing consumeth all that heap;
So, burning in secret, about her heart did he coil and creep,
Love the destroyer: her soft cheeks’ colour went and came,
Pale now, and anon, through her soul’s confusion, with crimson aflame.
Now when ready-dight was the banquet by labour of handmaid and thrall,
And by steaming baths’ refreshment their faces were lightened withal, {300}
Gladly they feasted and drank till their souls were satisfied.
Thereafter unto the sons of his daughter Aiêtes cried:
And this was the word of his mouth, as inquisition he made:
‘Ye sons of my daughter and Phrixus, the man unto whom I paid
Honour above all men that have stood mine halls within,
How came ye to Aia returning?—did some dark curse of sin
Break short in the midst your escape? Ye would not hear nor obey
Me, when I set before you the endless length of the way.
For I marked it, when once I was whirled in my father the Sun-god’s car,
In the day wherein he wafted my sister Kirkê afar {310}
Unto Hesperia-land, till the chariot at last made stay
On the Tyrrhene mainland-shore, where even unto this day
She abideth, exceeding far from the land where the Kolchians dwell.
What profit or pleasure in words? Speak out and plainly tell
What happed in the midst of your journey, and say who these men be
That have come with you hither. And where from your galley ashore came ye?’
So did he question; and answered him Argus before the rest—
But his heart misgave him concerning the son of Aison’s quest;—
With soft words spake he, seeing that he was the elder-born:
‘Aiêtes, that our ship full quickly asunder was torn {320}
By stormy blasts, and we, unto beams of the wreck as we clung,
On the beach of the War-god’s Isle by the sweep of the surges were flung
In the murky night. Some God from destruction redeemed us, I trow;
For even the birds of Ares, that wont to haunt ere now
That desolate isle of the sea, even these we found no more;
But these men drave them away when they landed the day before
From their galley: and there by the purpose of Zeus, compassionate
Of our plight, were they kept from departing, or bound peradventure by fate.
Straightway to our need with food and with raiment they ministered,
So soon as the name of Phrixus the far-renowned they heard, {330}
Yea, and thine own: for unto thy town be they voyaging.
And if thou wouldst know their need, I will hide not from thee the thing.
A certain king being fain with exceeding vehement spite
From his land and possessions to drive this man, forasmuch as in might
Of his hands he was peerless amongst the heroes of Aiolus’ seed,
Sendeth him hither on desperate venture. For fate had decreed
That Aiolus’ line shall escape not the soul-afflicting ire
Of implacable Zeus, and his wrath, and the curse unendurably dire,
And the vengeance for Phrixus, till cometh to Hellas the Fleece of Gold.
And his ship did Pallas Athênê fashion: not such is her mould {340}
As the fashioning is of the ships that be found ’mid the Kolchian folk—
Whereof our hap was the vilest, for even at a touch it broke
Of the raging surge and the wind;—but this ship holdeth fast,
Gripped by her bolts, through the buffeting fury of every blast.
And swiftly alike she runneth before the wind, and when
She is sped by the oars unresting in hands of stalwart men.
He hath gathered within her whatso mightiest heroes there are
In Achaia-land, and hath come to thy city from wandering far
By cities, by dread sea-gulfs, if thou haply wouldst grant his request,
That the thing he desireth may be: for nowise he cometh to wrest {350}
Aught from thine hands by force: he is minded to pay unto thee
Fair quittance for this thy gift. Of the bitter enmity
Of the Sauromatai hath he heard; he will quell them to bow to thy sway.
And their name and their lineage, if fain thou wouldst hear them, as thou dost say,
What men they be, I will tell to thee all in order due.
This man, for whose helping assembled from Hellas a hero-crew,
Jason they call him, the son of Aison, Krêtheus’ seed.
Now, if this man of Krêtheus’ lineage cometh in very deed,
Of a truth by the father’s blood shall he be of kin unto us,
For that Krêtheus and Athamas both were the children of Aiolus, {360}
And Phrixus moreover was child of Athamas, Aiolus’ son.
And, if aught thou know’st of the Sun-god’s seed, lo, here is one,
Augeias; and Telamon this, the son of the mighty in fame
Aiakus; yea, and of Zeus’s loins great Aiakus came.
And in like wise all the rest, which have hither companioned his way,
The sons and the grandsons they are of the Gods which abide for aye.’
So Argus spake: but the wrath of the king waxed hot as he heard,
And his soul like a stormy sea with a tempest of fury was stirred.
Fuming he spake—with the sons of his daughter above the rest
Was he wroth, for he weened that of these had Jason been moved to the Quest: {370}
And the light of his anger leapt from his eyes as levin-flame:
‘And will ye not straightway be gone from my sight, ye felons of shame,
And depart from the land afar with the guile of your treachery,
Ere a bitter Fleece and a bitter Phrixus here ye see,
With your friends back faring to Hellas? Not for the Fleece come ye!
Nay, but my sceptre and kingly honour ye come to take!
Now, if ye had broken not bread at my table or ever ye spake,
Your tongues had I surely cut out, and had hewn from the wrist each hand,
And had sent you forth with naught but your feet to fare through the land:
So should ye refrain you thereafter from coming on suchlike quest!— {380}
Lo, and the lies ye have spoken concerning the Gods ever-blest!’
So passioned the king: but even to its depths the spirit burned
Of Aiakus’ son, and hotly his soul within him yearned
To fling back a deadly defiance. But Jason, or ever he spake,
Stayed him, and gently speaking an answer of peace did he make:
‘Bear with me, Aiêtes, as touching this Quest: no such wild dream
To thy city and halls hath brought us as thou peradventure dost deem.
Nought such do we covet:—what man of his will, from an alien to wrest
His possessions, would fare over such wide seas? By the ruthless behest
Of a tyrannous king was I hitherward sent, and the doom of a God. {390}
Show favour to this our entreaty; and so will I publish abroad
Thy name and thy glory all Hellas through. Yea, ready we are
To render for this unto thee requital of service in war,
Whether it be that ye fain would bow the Sauromatans’ pride
Under your sceptred sway, or whatso nation beside.’
Then ceased he, with gentle utterance proffering love: but the king
A twofold purpose the while in his soul was pondering,
Whether to make assault on them then and there, and to slay,
Or to put their might to the test. And he counted the better way,
Thus as he pondered, the second, and answered in subtlety: {400}
‘Stranger, what hast thou to do to tell all this unto me?
For if ye be seed of the Gods in truth, or if ye which have hied
To the aliens’ land be peers of Aiêtes in aught beside,
I will give thee to bear away, if thou wilt, the Fleece of Gold,
When first I have tried thee. Nought I begrudge to the hero-souled,
Even as ye tell me of him that in Hellas beareth sway.
And the test of your valour and prowess shall be a certain essay,
Which mine own hands compass, fraught though it be with deadly bane.
Two brazen-footed bulls have I: on the War-god’s plain
They pasture: the breath from their mouths in flames of fire doth stream. {410}
These yoke I, and drive through the War-god’s stubborn glebe that team,
Four ploughgates; and even to the end my ploughshare cleaveth it fast.
No seed of the Lady of Corn in the furrows thereof do I cast,
But the teeth of a terrible serpent; and up from the earth they grow
In fashion of armèd men; but straightway I lay them low
With the thrusts of my spear, as around me they throng, a battle-ring.
With the dawning I yoke my team, and I cease from mine harvesting
At the eventide hour. And thou, if thou bring such deeds to pass,
That day shalt win this Fleece, as thy king’s commandment was.
But I give it thee not ere then; neither hope it; for shame should it be {420}
That a mighty champion should yield to a man that is worser than he.’
So spake he: but silent the hero sat, with his eyes on the ground.
Speechless he sat: no help for the desperate evil he found.
Long time he communed with his heart; no way through the darkness gleamed
To take on him stoutly the task, for a mighty deed it seemed.
But late and at last he spake, and he answered warily:
‘Full straitly, Aiêtes, within thy right art thou shutting me.
Yet this will I dare, this emprise mighty beyond all thought;
Yea, though my doom be to die: for a man may light upon nought
More dread to encounter than ruthless fate’s overmastering hand, {430}
Which hitherward also constrained me to come at a king’s command.’
So spake he, filled with despair; but the king made answer to him,
Sore troubled there as he sat, with words exceeding grim:
‘Come then to the gathering, thou who art fain this toil to essay.
But if thou shalt fear on the necks of the oxen the yoke to lay,
Or if from the deadly harvesting backward thou shrink in dismay,
Then will I look unto this, that another, taught by thee,
May shudder to come in such malapert sort to a mightier than he.’
Roundly he spake, and he ceased; and Jason uprose from his seat,
And Augeias and Telamon with him; but followed them only the feet {440}
Of Argus; for even at the moment a sign to his brethren he cast
There in their place to tarry: so forth of the hall they passed.
But the son of Aison outshone all there in wondrous wise
In goodlihead and in grace: ever wandered the maiden’s eyes
Askance unto him, as she stealthily parted her veil’s soft gleam.
And her heart was a smouldering fire of pain; and her soul, as a dream,
Stole after her love, flitting still in his track as his feet fared on.
So they from the halls in exceeding vexation of spirit are gone.
But Chalkiopê, from the wrath of Aiêtes shrinking in dread,
Hastily unto her bower with those her sons had fled. {450}
And Medea thereafter followed; and surged like a rushing river
The thoughts through her breast—the thoughts that Love awakeneth ever.
And before her eyes the vision of all evermore she had—
Himself, even like as he was, and the vesture wherein he was clad,
How he spake, how he sat on his seat, how forth of the doors he strode,
And she dreamed as she mused that all the world beside had showed
None other such man. In her ears evermore the music rung
Of his voice, and the words that in sweetness of honey had dropped from his tongue.
And she trembled for him, lest the bulls or Aiêtes himself might slay
Her beloved, and took up a mourning for him, as though he lay {460}
Dead even now; and adown her cheeks soft-stealing tears
Flowed, of her measureless pity, her burden of haunting fears.
And she mourned, and the low lamentation wailed from her tortured breast:
‘Why, wretch that I am, is this anguish upon me?—or be he the best
Of heroes, who now is to perish, or be he the vilest of all,
Let him go to his doom!—yet O that on him no scathe might fall!
Oh might it be so, thou Daughter of Perseus, Goddess revered!
Oh might he but win home, ’scaping his doom!—but if this be his weird,
By the bulls to be overmastered, or ever it be too late
Might he know it, that I be not forced to exult o’er the thing that I hate!’ {470}
So was the maiden distraught by the cares that racked her mind.
But when those others had left the folk and the city behind,
On the path whereby at the first from the river-plain they had gone,
Even then, and with these words, Argus spake unto Aison’s son:
‘This counsel of mine, O Aison’s son, thou wilt haply despise:
Yet in desperate strait to forbear from the trial seemeth not wise.
Thou hast heard me tell of a maiden that practiseth sorcery
Under the teaching of Perseus’ daughter Hekatê.
Now if we might win her to help us, thou needest not fear any more
To be vanquished in this thine endeavour:—howbeit my fear is sore {480}
Lest haply my mother will take not upon her to move her thereto.
Yet in any wise back will I wend to essay what entreaty may do;
For over us all alike is destruction hanging this day.’
So spake he in kindness of heart, and in answer did Jason say:
‘Dear friend, if this seemeth good in thy sight, I say not nay.
Hasten thou then, and with words of weight to thy mother pray
Till thou stir her to help us:—howbeit a pitiful hope is the best
For our home-return, if this in the keeping of women must rest.’
So spake he; and soon to the backwater came he: with hearts full fain
Did their comrades greet them, and question, beholding them again. {490}
But unto them Aison’s son in heaviness spake the word:
‘O friends, the heart of Aiêtes the ruthless is wholly stirred
With anger against us: of all those things whereof ye inquire
Nor for me nor for you appeareth the goal of our desire.
Two brazen-footed bulls on the War-god’s plain, he saith,
Pasture; in flames of fire from the mouths of them streameth the breath:
And with these must I plough him ploughgates four of a fallow field;
And seed of a serpent’s jaws will he give, and for crop shall it yield
Earth-born warriors in harness of brass. In the selfsame day
These must I slay. And of this—for I found no better way, {500}
In mine heart as I pondered—I promised outright to make essay.’
He spake, and it seemed unto all an impossible task. For a space
Silent they sat, and each man gazed in his fellow’s face,
By despair bowed down, by calamity crushed, till Peleus at last
With stout words spake to hearten the heroes all aghast:
‘Full time is it now to be counselling what we shall do. In rede
Small profit, I trow, shall be found; strong hands must help our need.
If thou then art minded to yoke the bulls of Aiêtes the king,
O hero Aison’s son, and thine heart is good for the thing,
Up then, and keep thy promise, and gird up thy loins for the toil. {510}
But if aught thine heart mistrusteth her manhood, and feareth the foil,
Neither goad thyself on, nor yet for another of these look round
As thou sitt’st in their midst: for one that shall nowise flinch hath been found,
Even I; for the bitterest pang is but death, to which all men are bound.’
So spake Aiakus’ son; and Telamon’s spirit was stirred,
And swiftly in haste he uprose; and Idas uprose for the third
With heart uplifted; and rose the sons of Tyndareus then;
And rose with them Oineus’ son, who was numbered among strong men,
Albeit not yet so much as the tender down on his chin
Showed; with such hero-might was his spirit uplifted within. {520}
But the rest unto these gave place, and were still: then spake straightway
Argus to these for the contest that longed, and thus did he say:
‘Friends, haply to this may we come at the last: but ere that be,
Help for our need shall be found with my mother, it seemeth me.
Wherefore refrain you a little yet, how eager soe’er,
And abide in the ship as aforetime: for better it is to forbear,
Than reckless-hearted to choose the path to destruction’s lair.
In the halls of Aiêtes nurtured a certain maiden doth dwell
Whom Hekatê taught strange cunning in herbs of the witch-wife’s spell,
Even all that on solid land or in fleeting water grow. {530}
And therewith she turneth to balm the fireblast’s fervent glow,
And rivers in mid rush roaring she suddenly causeth to stand,
And constraineth the stars and the paths of the holy moon with a band.
Of her we bethought us, the while from the palace we trod the way,
If haply my mother, seeing that sisters born be they,
Could persuade this maiden, that so for the contest her help she may lend.
And if this thing appeareth good in your eyes, of a truth will I wend
To the palace-hall of Aiêtes aback this selfsame day
To try her:—a God peradventure will help when I make essay.’
He spake, and the Gods of their kindness sent forth a sign in their sight; {540}
For a fearful dove from the might of a hawk swift-winging her flight
From on high into Jason’s bosom fell in her panic affright.
But the hawk swooped blindly, and fluttered impaled on the high stern-crest.
Then on Mopsus a spirit of prophecy came, and he cried to the rest:
‘Unto you, O friends, by the will of the Gods this token is sent;
For in none other wise shall ye better interpret the sign’s intent
That we seek to the maiden, and woo her with speech of entreaty fair
With our uttermost wit; and I ween she will not reject our prayer,
If Phineus foretold that your home-return should be brought to pass
With help of the Cyprian Goddess. Her gentle bird it was {550}
That escaped from destruction. As now mine heart doth in vision foresee
As touching this omen, O that so in the end it may be!
Friends, let us cry to the Queen of Kythera to help our need;
And straightway obey ye the counsel of Argus with diligent heed.’
He spake, and the young men praised it, calling to mind the word
Of Phineus the prophet; but Idas alone rose anger-stirred
Shouting aloud in his fierceness of wrath, and thus did he say:
‘Out on it!—were women our voyaging-fellows through all that way?
We men that be calling on Kypris now for our help to arise,
And not on the War-god’s mighty strength?—and by turning your eyes {560}
On doves and on hawks shall ye ’scape from the toil, shall ye win the prize?
Away!—let the deeds of war no more in your hearts find place,
But the cunning in pleading that winneth a weakling maiden’s grace!’
Even so hot-hearted he spake; and many of them that heard
Low murmured thereat; howbeit none of them answered a word.
Then sat he down yet scowling in wrath; and rose thereupon
Jason to stir them to deeds, and thus spake Aison’s son:
‘Let Argus be sent from the ship, seeing all commend this thing;
But let us which remain from her hiding-place in the river bring
And openly moor to the shore our galley; for now gone by {570}
Is the time for hiding as cravens that cower from the onset-cry.’
So did he speak: and he hasted the feet of Argus again
To return to the city with speed, and the hawsers drew they then
Out of the stream inboard at Aison’s son’s command;
And a little above the backwater rowed they the galley aland.
But Aiêtes assembled for council the Kolchian men in haste
Aloof from his halls, in the place where they gathered in days overpast,
Devising against the Minyans trouble and treachery grim.
And he purposed, so soon as the bulls should have torn him limb from limb,—
This man who had taken upon him the heavy task to fulfil,— {580}
To hew the oak-grove down that crested the shaggy hill,
And to burn the ship and her crew, that so amid fume and flame
They might vent that insolence forth for a king’s defiance that came.
Yea, and he had not received, he said, even Aiolus’ son
In his halls in his sorest need, even Phrixus, the man who outshone
All strangers in courtesy and in fear of the Gods on high,
But that Zeus’ self sent unto him his messenger down from the sky,
Even Hermes, bidding him give to the stranger the welcoming hand.
How much less therefore, when pirate-rovers came to his land,
Should they long ’scape griefs of their own, the caitiffs whose only toil {590}
Was to stretch forth their hands in the taking of other men’s goods for a spoil,
And to weave dark webs of guile, and on herdmen folk to fall
With soul-dismaying shouts, and to harry steading and stall?
Yea, and the sons of Phrixus should render to him therebeside
Meet penalty, they who had dared in returning thither to guide
Felons, consorting with men which were minded to drive even him
Light-hearted from honour and sceptre; as spake that prophecy grim,
The warning whereof he heard from his father the Sun erewhile,
Bidding him, ‘See thou beware of thine offspring’s secret guile,
And the plots of thy seed, and the curse of their crafty iniquity;’ {600}
For which cause also he sent them, even as they craved, oversea,
By their father’s behest, to Achaia a long way:—yet there came
On his soul no shadow of fear of his daughters, lest these should frame
Treason: no fear of his son Absyrtus his heart had chilled;
But he said, ‘In the children of Chalkiopê shall the curse be fulfilled.’
And bodings of awful revenge on the strangers foamed on his lip
In his fury; for loudly he threatened to hale to the flames their ship
And her crew, that none through the meshes of ruin’s net might slip.
But Argus had gone to the halls of Aiêtes the while, and with speech
Of manifold pleading now did the prince his mother beseech {610}
To pray to Medea to help them; yea, and herself theretofore
Was full of the selfsame thought, but the fear on her soul lay sore
Lest haply fate should withstand, and in vain she should speak her fair,
For her dread of her father’s deadly wrath; or if to her prayer
She should yield, yet all should be brought to light, and her deeds laid bare.
Now the maiden had cast her down on her couch, and slumber deep
Of her anguish relieved her; but straightway dreams came haunting her sleep,
Such visions dark and deceitful as trouble the anguish-distraught.
For it seemed that the stranger had taken upon him the task; but she thought
That it was not the Fleece of the Ram that he longed to win for a prize, {620}
Nor yet for the sake of this had he fared in any wise
To Aiêtes’ city, but only to lead her, his wedded wife,
Unto his home; and she dreamed that herself did wrestle in strife
With the bulls, and exceeding lightly the mighty labour she wrought.
Howbeit thereafter her parents set their promise at naught,
For that not to their child, but to him, was the challenge to yoke that team.
Wherefore contention of wrangling clashed through her troubled dream
’Twixt her sire and the strangers: and lo, in her hand the decision they laid,
That the issue should follow her will, and the thoughts of the heart of the maid.
And straightway the stranger she chose: all reverence thrust she aside {630}
For her parents; and measureless anguish seized them, and loud they cried
In their fury, and sleep forsook her at that heart-thrilling sound.
And all a-quiver with fear she upstarted: she stared all round
On the walls of her chamber; her fluttering spirit back to her breast
Scarce drew she: the words like a panic-struck throng through her pale lips pressed:
‘O wretched I!—how nightmare visions my spirit appal!
I fear me lest awful ills from the heroes’ voyage befall:
And my heart, my heart for the stranger is tossed in a storm of dismay.
Let him woo some girl in his own Achaia far away,
And be maidenhood mine, and mine in the house of my parents to stay! {640}
Yet—yet—though mine heart be by love made reckless, the desperate deed
I will try not unbid by my sister—never!—except she plead
With Medea to help in the toil, in her anguish of fear for the sake
Of her sons: this might peradventure assuage my sore heart-ache.’
She spake, and she rose from her bed, and she opened her chamber door
Barefooted, in vesture of linen alone; and she yearned full sore
To go to her sister, and over the threshold stole the maid:
Yet lingering—lingering—long at the door of the chamber she stayed
Held by her shame. Then backward in sudden panic she fled,
And into her bower she darted, and shrank to the shadows in dread. {650}
And backward and forward her purposeless feet ever paced in vain;
For whenso she braced her to go, shame fettered her feet with its chain,
And ever as shame plucked back, bold passion spurred her amain.
Thrice she essayed, thrice stayed she; but now at the fourth essay
Down on her bed on her face did she cast her, and writhing she lay.
And as when some bride in her desolate bower for her lord maketh moan,
Unto whom her brethren and parents espoused her a little agone;
And for shame and for thinking on him awhile she cannot face
The eyes of her handmaids, but silent she sits in a secret place.
Some doom hath destroyed him, or ever the crown of their desire {660}
Was attained of these: and there in her chamber, with heart on fire
Stilly she sitteth and weepeth, beholding her couch left lorn;
Stilly—for fear of the mock of the women, the laugh of their scorn
Like her did Medea make moan: but with sob and with broken cry
While yet she lamented, it chanced one heard as she passed thereby,
Which had been from a child a handmaid tending her lady’s bower
So she told it to Chalkiopê: now she sat in the selfsame hour
With her sons, devising to win her sister to help their need;
And she hearkened the strange tale told of the handmaid with diligent heed,
Neither put it lightly aside; but she hastened in startled dismay {670}
Forth of her bower and on to the bower where the maiden lay
Anguish-racked, while her frenzied fingers tore each cheek.
And her eyes all drowned in tears she beheld, and thus did she speak:
‘Ah me, Medea, ah me!—and why art thou weeping so?
What hath befallen?—how came to thine heart this terrible woe?
Is it some disease heaven-sent that hath suddenly smitten thy frame?
Or what, hast thou heard some deadly threat from our father that came
Touching me and my sons? Would God I had never so much as seen