Читать книгу The Tale of the Argonauts - Rhodius Apollonius - Страница 6

Of long-left Acheron’s flow, where the torrents unspeakable roll.

For the doom of his spirit is fixed, to and fro evermore is it swept,

Now numbered with ghosts underground, now back to the light hath it leapt,

To the beams of the sun among living men:—but why should I tell

The story of Aithalides that all men know full well?

Of him was Hypsipylê won to receive that sea-borne array{650}

As waned the day to the gloaming: yet not with the new-born day

Unmoored they the ship for the North-wind’s breathing to waft away.

Through the city the daughters of Lemnos into the folkmote pressed,

And there sat down, as Hypsipylê’s self sent forth her behest.

So when they were gathered in one great throng to the market-stead,

For their counselling straightway she rose in the midst of them all, and she said:

‘Friends, now, an ye will, good store of gifts to the men give we,

Even such as is meet that the farers a-shipboard should bear oversea,

Even meats and the sweet strong wine, that without our towers so

They may bide, nor for need’s sake passing amidst of us to and fro{660}

May know of us all too well, and our evil report shall go

Afar, for a terrible deed have we wrought, and in no wise, I trow,

Good in their sight shall it seem, if they haply shall hear the tale.

Lo, this is our counsel, and this, meseemeth, best shall avail.

But if any amidst you hath counsel that better shall serve our need

Let her rise; for to this have I summoned you, even the giving of rede.’

So spake she, and sat her down on the ancient chair of stone

That of old was her sire’s, and Polyxo her nurse uprose thereupon.

On her wrinkle-shrivelled feet she halted for very eld

Bowed over a staff; but with longing for speech the heart in her swelled.{670}

And hard by her side were there sitting ancient maidens four,

Virgins, whose heads with the thin white hair were silvered o’er.

And amidst of the folkmote stood she, and up from her crook-bowed back

Feebly a little she lifted her neck, and in this wise spake:

‘Gifts, even as unto the lady Hypsipylê seemeth meet,

Send we to the strangers, for thus were it better their coming to greet.

But you—by what art or device shall ye save your souls alive

If a Thracian host burst on you, or cometh in battle to strive

Some other foe?—there be many such chances to men that befall,

Even as now yon array cometh unforeseen of us all.{680}

But if one of the Blessèd should turn this affliction away, there remain

Countless afflictions beside, far worse than the battle’s strain.

For when through the gates of the grave the older women have passed,

And childless the younger have won to a joyless eld at the last,

How then will ye live, O hapless?—what, will the beasts freewilled

On their own necks cast the yoke, to the end that your lands may be tilled?

And the furrow-sundering share will they drag through the heavy loam?

And, as rolleth the year round, straight will they bring you the harvest home?

Now, albeit from me the Fates still shrink as in loathing and fear,

Yet surely on me, when the feet draw nigh of another year,{690}

The earth shall lie, when the burial rites have been rendered to me,

Even as is due, and the evil days I shall not see.

But for you which be younger, I counsel you, give good heed unto this,

For that now at your feet an open way of deliverance there is,

If ye will but commit your dwellings and all your spoil to the guard

Of the strangers, yea, and your goodly city for these to ward.’

She spake, and with clamour the folkmote was filled, for good in their eyes

Was the word, and straightway thereafter again did Hypsipylê rise,

And her voice pealed over the multitude, stilling the mingled cries:

‘If in sooth in the sight of you all well-pleasing is this same rede,{700}

Unto the ship straightway a messenger hence will I speed.’

To Iphinoê which waited beside her spake she her hest:

‘Up, Iphinoê, and to yonder man bear this my request,

That he come to our town, even he who is chief of the strangers’ array,

For the word that pleaseth the heart of my people to him would I say.

Yea, and his fellows bid thou to light in friendship down

On our shore, if they will, and to enter undismayed our town.’

She spake, and dismissed the assembly, and homeward she wended her way;

But Iphinoê to the Minyans went; and they bade her say

What was the mind wherewithal she was come, and what her need.{710}

And straightway she told them the words of her message with eager speed:

‘The daughter of Thoas, Hypsipylê, sent me hither away

To summon the lord of your ship, and the captain of your array,

That the will of her folk she may tell him, their heart’s desire this day.

Yea, and his fellows she biddeth to light in friendship down

On our shore, if they will, and to enter undismayed our town.’

So spake she, and fair in the sight of them all was the word that she said;

For they deemed that Hypsipylê reigned in the room of Thoas dead,

His daughter, his well-beloved; and they hasted Jason to meet

The island-queen, and they dight them to follow their captain’s feet.{720}

Then he flung o’er his shoulders the web by the Goddess Itonian wrought;

In the clasp of a brooch were the folds of the purple of Pallas caught,

Which she gave, when for Argo’s building the keel-props first she dight,

And taught him with rule of the shipwright to measure her timbers aright.

More easy it were in sooth on the sun at his rising to gaze

Than to fasten thine eyes on the flush of its glory, its splendour-blaze.

For the fashion thereof in the midst was fiery crimson glow,

And the top was of purple throughout; and above on the marge and below

Picture by picture did many a broidered marvel show.

For therein were the Cyclopes bowed o’er their work that perisheth not,{730}

Forging the levin of Zeus the King, and so far was it wrought

In its fiery splendour, that yet of its flashes there lacked but one:

And the giant smiths with their sledges of iron were smiting thereon;

While forth of it spurts as of flaming breath ever leapt and anon.

And there were the sons of Asôpus’ daughter Antiopê set,

Amphion and Zethus: and Thêbê, with towers ungirded as yet,

Stood nigh them; and lo, the foundations thereof were they laying but now

In fierce haste. Zethus had heaved a craggy mountain’s brow

On his shoulders: as one hard straining in toil did the image appear.

And Amphion the while to his golden lyre sang loud and clear,{740}

On-pacing; and twice so great was the rock that followed anear.

And next Kythereia with tresses heavily drooping was shown;

And the buckler of onset of Arês she bare: from her shoulder the zone

Of her tunic over her left arm fell with a careless grace

Low over her breast; and ever she seemed on the shield to gaze,

On the face that out of its brazen mirror smiled to her face.

And therein was a herd of shaggy kine; for the winning thereof

Elektryon’s sons and Teleboan raiders in battle strove:

For these were defending their own; but the Taphian rovers were fain

To rob them; and drenched was the dewy meadow with that red rain.{750}

But with that overmastering host were the herdmen striving in vain.

And therein had been fashioned chariots twain in the race that sped.

And Pelops was guiding the car that afront in the contest fled;

And Hippodameia beside him rode that fateful race.

And rushing behind him Myrtilus scourging his steeds gave chase;

And Oinomaus with him had couched his lance with a murderous face.

But, as snapt at the nave the axle, aslant was he falling in dust,

Even as at Pelops’ back he was aiming the treacherous thrust.

And therein was Phœbus Apollo, a slender stripling yet,

Shooting at him who the ravisher’s hand to the veil had set{760}

Of his mother, at Tityos the giant, whom Elarê bare; but the Earth

Nursed him, and hid in her womb, and gave to him second birth.

And Phrixus the Minyan was there; and it seemed that unto the ram

He verily hearkened; it seemed that a voice from the gold-fleeced came.

Thou wert hushed to behold them—wouldst cheat thy soul with the hope that perchance

Forth of the lifeless lips would break the utterance

Of speech—ay, long wouldst thou gaze in expectation’s trance.

Such was the gift of Athênê, the Goddess Itonian’s toil.

And a lance far-leaping he grasped in his right hand, given erewhile

Of the maid Atalanta on Mainalus’ height for the pledge of a friend.{770}

Gladly she met him, for sorely her soul desired to wend

On the Quest: howbeit the hero himself withheld the maid,

For the peril of bitter strife for her love’s sake made him afraid.

So he hied him to go to the town, as the radiant star to behold

Which a maid, as she draweth her newly-woven curtain’s fold,

Beholdeth, as over her dwelling upward it floateth fair;

And it charmeth her eyes, flashing out of the depths of the darkling air

Flushed with a crimson glory: the maid’s heart leapeth then

Lovesick for the youth who is far away amid alien men,

Her betrothed, unto whom her parents shall wed her on some glad day:{780}

So as a star was the hero treading the cityward way.

So when he had passed through the gates, and within the city he came,

The women thereof thronged after, and wafted him blithe acclaim,

Having joy of the stranger: but earthward ever his eyes he cast,

Pacing unfaltering on till he came to the palace at last

Of Hypsipylê: then at the hero’s appearing the maids flung wide

The gates and the fair-fashioned boards of the leaves on either side.

Then through the beautiful hall did Iphinoê lead on

Swiftly, and caused him to sit on a tinsel-glittering throne

Facing the Queen; and Hypsipylê turned her eyes away,{790}

For the maiden blood flushed hot in her cheek. But her shame that day

Tied not her tongue, and with crafty-winsome words did she say:

‘Stranger, wherefore so long have ye tarried without our towers?

Forasmuch as no man dwelleth within this city of ours;

But these have betaken them hence to dwell on the Thracian shore,

And there are they ploughing the wheat-bearing lands. I will tell thee o’er

The evil tale, to the end ye also may understand.

In the days when Thoas my father was king o’er the folk of the land,

My people in ships from Lemnos over the sea-ridges rode,

And harried the homes of the Thracians that overagainst us abode;{800}

And with booty untold they returned, and with many a captive maid.

But the curse of a baneful Goddess upon them now was laid;

For the Cyprian caused on their souls heart-ruining blindness to fall,

That they hated their lawful wives, and forth from bower and hall

At the beck of their folly they drove the Lemnian matrons away,

And beside those spear-won thralls in the bed of love they lay—

Cruel ones! Sooth, long time we endured it, if haply again,

Though late, their hearts might be turned; but our wrong and our bitter pain

Waxed evermore twofold; and the children of true-born blood

In our halls were dishonoured, and grew up amidst us a bastard brood.{810}

Yea, and our maids unwedded, and widowed wives thereto,

Uncared for about our city wandered to and fro.

No father had heeded, no, never so little, his daughter’s plight,

Not though before his eyes he beheld her slain outright

By a tyrannous stepdame’s hands: and sons would defend no more

A mother from outrage and shame, as they wont in the days of yore.

No love for a sister then the heart of the brother bore.

But only the handmaid-thralls in the home found grace in their sight,

In the dance, in the market-place, and whenso the banquet was dight.

Till at last some God in our hearts this desperate courage awoke,{820}

No more to receive them, when back they returned from the Thracian folk,

Our towers within, that so they might heed the right, or begone

Hence to another land, even they and their thralls war-won.

Then required they of us their sons, even what manchild soe’er

Had been left in the town, and returned unto Thrace; and to this day there

The Lemnian men on the snowy Thracian corn-lands dwell.

Then tarry ye sojourning here: and if haply it please thee well

To abide in the land, and it seem to thee good, of a surety thine

Shall be Thoas my father’s honour. I ween this land of mine

Thou shalt scorn not, for passing fruitful it is above all the rest{830}

Of the myriad isles that lie on the broad Aegean’s breast.

But come now, go to thy galley, and tell these words of ours

Unto thy comrades, nor longer tarry without our towers.’

She ended, with fair words veiling the deed of murder dread

Done on the men; and the hero answered the queen, and he said:

‘Hypsipylê, passing welcome this thy request shall be

Which thou tenderest us, whose desire withal is now unto thee.

Back through thy town will I come, when an end I have made to say

All this to my fellows in order: howbeit let all the sway

And the lordship be thine in the island. I make not in scorn my request,{840}

But a sore task thrusteth me onward still, and I may not rest.’

He spake, and the queen’s right hand hath he touched, and aback to the strand

He hath turned him to go; and around him the maidens on either hand

Danced blithely, a throng unnumbered, till forth of the gates he had strode.

Thereafter the women loaded them wains smooth-running, and rode

Down to the beach, and gifts of greeting they bare good store,

When now to his fellows the hero had told the message o’er,

Which Hypsipylê spake unto him when she sent and bade him come.

And with little ado the maidens drew the heroes home

To their halls; for sweet desire did the Lady of Cyprus awake,{850}

For a grace to Hephaistus the Lord of Craft, that Lemnos might take

New life, and unruined be peopled of men once more for his sake.

Now into Hypsipylê’s royal palace Aison’s son

Hath passed, and the rest, as it happed unto each man, so are they gone,

Save Herakles only; for still with the ship would the hero abide,

For he willed it so, and a few his chosen comrades beside.

And straightway rejoiced the city with dance and with festival,

And was filled with sacrifice-steam to the Deathless: but most of all

Honoured they Hêrê’s glorious son, and atonement’s price

To the Cyprian Queen they paid with song and with sacrifice.{860}

And ever from day unto day did the heroes their sailing forbear,

Loth to depart; and long had they tarried loitering there,

But Herakles gathered his comrades, and drew from the women apart,

And with words of upbraiding he spake, and rebuked them indignant of heart:

‘What, sirs, is it blood of kindred spilt that maketh us roam

From our land?—or came ye, because that ye found no brides at home,

Hitherward, scorning the maidens of Greece? Doth it please you to toil

Here dwelling, and driving the plough through the soft smooth Lemnian soil?

Good sooth, but little renown shall we win of our tarrying

Here long time with the stranger women! No God will bring{870}

That Fleece unto us, nor wrest from its warder, for our request!

Forth let us go each man to his place—him leave ye to rest

All day on Hypsipylê’s couch, till he people from shore to shore

Lemnos with menfolk: great his renown shall be therefor!’

So did he chide with the band; was none dared meet his eye,

Neither look in his face, nor was any man found that essayed reply.

But straight from his presence, to make their departing ready, they went

In haste; and the women came running, so soon as they knew their intent.

And as when round beautiful lilies the wild bees hum at their toil,

From their hive in the rock forth pouring; the dew-sprent meadow the while{880}

Around them rejoiceth, and hovering, stooping, now and again

They sip of the sweet flower-fountains—in such wise round the men

Forth streamed the women with yearning faces, making their moan;

And with hands caressing and soft sad words did they greet each one,

Beseeching the Blessed to grant them a home-coming void of bane.

Yea, so doth Hypsipylê pray, as her clinging fingers strain

The hand of Jason, and stream her tears with the parting-pain:

‘Go thou, and thee may the Gods with thy comrades scathless bring

Back to the home-land, bearing the Fleece of Gold to the king,

Even as thou wilt, and thine heart desireth: and this mine isle,{890}

And my father’s sceptre withal, shall wait for thee the while,

If haply, thine home-coming won, thou wouldst choose to come hither again.

Thou couldst gather from other cities a host unnumbered of men

Lightly—ah, but the longing shall never awaken in thee;

Yea, and mine own heart bodeth that this shall never be!

Yet O remember Hypsipylê whilst thou art far away,

And when home thou hast won; and leave me a word that thy love shall obey

With joy, if the Gods shall vouchsafe me to bear a son to my lord.’

Lovingly looked on her Aison’s son, and he spake the word:

‘Hypsipylê, so may the Gods bring all these blessings to be!{900}

Howbeit a better wish than this frame thou for me;

Forasmuch as by Pelias’ grace it sufficeth me still to live

In the home-land—only the Gods from my toils deliverance give!

But and if to return to the land of Hellas be not my doom,

Afar as I sail, and a fair manchild be the fruit of thy womb,

To Pelasgian Iolkos send him, when boyhood and manhood be met,

To my father and mother, to solace their grief,—if living yet

Haply he find them,—that so, in the stead of the prince their son,

They may win in their halls a dear one, to brighten the hearth left lone.’

He spake, and was gone; and afront of his fellows he strode to the ship,{910}

And the rest of the chiefs followed on, and the oars in their hands did they grip,

Row upon row as they sat; and the hawsers did Argus cast

Loose from the rock brine-lashed; and mightily then and fast

Fell they to smiting with oars long-bladed the seething wave.

And at even by Orpheus’ counsel the keel ashore they drave

On the isle of Elektra the daughter of Atlas, that there they might learn

The mystic rites whose unveiling is not soul-daunting nor stern,

And safelier so might voyage over the chill grey sea:—

No more will I speak of the Hidden Things—but a blessing be

Upon that same isle, and the Gods there dwelling, to whom belong{920}

Those rites whereof it is not vouchsafed that we tell in song.

And from thence o’er the Black Sea’s depths unfathomed they sped with the oar,

To leftward keeping the land of Thrace, and to rightward the shore

Of Imbros overagainst it; and, even as sank the sun,

Unto the long sea-foreland of Chersonese they won.

There did the strong swift south-wind blow, and the sail they spread

To the breeze, and into the outward-rushing waters they sped

Of Athamas’ daughter: and lo, astern with the morning light

The outsea lay, and along Rhœteion’s beach in the night

They coasted, and still on their right the land Idaean lay.{930}

And they left Dardania behind, and Abydos-ward steered they.

By Perkotê in that same night, and Abarnis’ stretches of sand

Onward they glided, and past Pityeia the hallowed land.

And the selfsame night, as with sails and with oars sped Argo on,

Through the sea-gorge darkly-swirling of Hellespont they won.

Now within the Propontis an island there is, both high and steep;

Short space from the corn-blest Phrygian land doth it rise from the deep

Seaward-sloped: to the mainland stretched a neck of land

Low as the wash of the sea; so the place hath a twofold strand.

And beyond the water floods of Aisêpus the river they lie.{940}

The Hill of the Bears it is called of them that dwell thereby.

And cruel oppressors and fierce have there their robber-hold,

Earth-born, a marvel great for the dwellers around to behold.

Six mighty arms each monster uplifteth against a foe,

Even two from his brawny shoulders that spring, and therebelow

Four other, that out of his sides exceeding terrible grow.

Now Dolian men on the isthmus abode, and about the plain;

And amidst them did Kyzikus, hero-son of Aineus, reign,

The son whom Ainêtê, the daughter of godlike Eusôrus, bare.

But these men the Earth-born giants, how mighty and dreadful soe’er,{950}

In no wise harried: their shield and defender Poseidon became,

For himself had begotten of old the first of the Dolian name.

Thitherward Argo, as chased by the Thracian breezes she fled,

Pressed, and the goodly haven received her as onward she sped.

And their light-weight anchor-stone did they cast away thereby

By Tiphys’ behest, and they left it beside the fountain to lie,

By Artakia’s spring; and another they chose, huge, meet for their need.

Howbeit their first, by Archer Apollo’s oracle-rede,

The Ionian Neleïds laid thereafter, a hallowed stone,

In the shrine of Athênê, Jason’s friend, as was meet to be done.{960}

And in all lovingkindness the Dolians came, and to meet them pressed

Kyzikus’ self, when their lineage he heard, and was ware of the Quest,

And knew what heroes were these; and with glad guest-welcome they met,

And besought them to speed in their rowing a short space onward yet,

And to fasten the hawser within the city’s haven fair.

To Apollo the Lord of Landing they builded an altar there:

By the strand they upreared it, and there did the smoke of the sacrifice rise;

And sweet strong wine did the king’s self give them, their need to suffice,

And sheep therewithal: for an oracle rang in his ears—‘In the day

When a godlike band of heroes shall come, meet thou their array{970}

With welcome of love, and thou shalt not bethink thee at all of the fray.’

And, like unto Jason, the soft down bloomed on the young king’s chin;

Neither yet was he gladdened with laughter of children his halls within;

For the pangs of the travailing hour not yet to his bride had been known,

Even to the lady born of Merops, Perkosius’ son,

Fair-tressed Kleitê. But now had she passed from her sire’s halls forth

On the mainland-shore, when he won her with gifts of priceless worth.

But for all this left he his bridal bower and the bed of his bride,

And arrayed them a banquet, and cast from his heart all fear aside.

And they questioned each other, the king and the heroes. Of them would he learn{980}

The end whereunto they voyaged, and Pelias’ bidding stern.

Of the dwellers around, and their cities, they asked and were fain to be taught

Touching all the gulf of Propontis the wide: but the king knew nought

Beyond to tell them, albeit with eager desire they sought.

So at dawn did they climb huge Dindymus’ sides, with purpose to gaze

With their own eyes over the unknown sea and her trackless ways;—

But forth of the outer haven first their galley they rowed;—

Still Jason’s Path is it named, that mountain-track they trode.

But the earth-born giants the while rushed down from the mountain-side,

And the seaward mouth they blocked of the haven of Chytos the wide{990}

With crags, like men that lie in wait for a wolf in his lair.

Howbeit with them that were younger had Herakles tarried there;

And he leapt to his feet, and against them his back-springing bow did he strain.

One after other he stretched them on earth; and the giants amain

Heaved up huge jagged rocks, and hurled them against their foe.

Yea, for that terrible monster-brood was nurtured, I trow,

Of Hêrê, the bride of Zeus, for a trial of Herakles.

Therewithal came the rest of their fellows, returning to battle with these

Or ever they won the mountain-crest. To the slaughter they fell

Of the Earth-born brood, those heroes: with arrows some did they quell,{1000}

And some on the points of their spears they received, until they had slain

All that to grapple of fight had rushed so furious-fain.

And even as when the woodmen with axes have smitten, and throw

The long beams down on the strand of the sea ranged row upon row,—

For the brine-sodden wood shall grip the strong bolts faster so,—

Even so at the entering-in of the foam-fringed haven they lay

One after other; some in a huddled heap where the spray

Dashed over their heads and their breasts, the while, stretched high on the land,

Stiffened their limbs: there were some yet again, whose heads on the sand

Rested, the while in the heaving waters swayed their feet;—{1010}

But doomed were they all alike for the birds’ and the fishes’ meat.

And the heroes, so soon as the peril afar from their emprise was driven,

Cast loose the hawsers of Argo before the breezes of heaven.

Forth shot she, and onward they drave, fast cleaving the broad sea-swell.

All day under canvas she ran: howbeit, as twilight fell

No longer the wind-rush steadily held, but the veering blast

Caught them, and swept them aback, till it brought them again at the last

To the guest-fain Dolian men. Then stepped they ashore in the gloom

Of the night; and unto this day is it called the Rock of Doom

Round which the hawsers of Argo in blind haste now did they pass;{1020}

Neither did any man deem that the selfsame island it was;

Nor yet were the Dolians ware that again in the night to their coast

The heroes were come, but haply they weened that a Makrian host

Of Pelasgian men for war had sailed to their land overseas:

Wherefore their armour they donned, and uplifted their hands against these.

And with onset of spears and with clashing of shields met they in the strife,

Like to the vehement blast of flame which hath leapt into life

Mid the copses dry, and the red tongues climb: and the battle-din then

Fearful and furious fell in the midst of the Dolian men.

Nor may Kyzikus now overleap his weird, and aback from the war{1030}

Win home to the bower of love and the arms of his bride any more.

But, even as he turned on him, full on the king leapt Aison’s son,

And stabbed in the midst of his breast, and shattered was all the bone

Around the spear, and falling in death-throes down on the sands

He filled up the measure of Fate. To escape her resistless hands

Is vouchsafed unto none: as a wide snare compassed we are with her bands.

Even so, as he weened that the bitterness now of death was past

At the hands of the heroes, lo, in her gin were his feet caught fast

In the night, as he battled with them, and many a champion withal

Was slain with the king; by Herakles’ hands did Telekles fall,{1040}

And fell Megabrontes; and Sphodris Akastus overthrew;

And Zelys, Gephyrus withal, the battle-swift Peleus slew.

Telamon’s ashen spear through Basileus’ heart is thrust;

Died Promeus by Idas, and Klytius laid Hyakinthus in dust;

And the Tyndarids twain slew Phlogius, slew Megalossakes;

And valiant Itymoneus fell before Oineus’ son amid these,

And Artakes with him, a chieftain of men: and unto this day

Unto all these slain do the people the worship of heroes pay.

Then wavered the ranks and broke; then fled they in panic affright,

As before the swift-winged hawks doth a cloud of doves take flight.{1050}

Through the gates in a huddled rout they poured, and the town straightway

With the war-yell was filled, and backward rolled was the woeful fray.

But at dawn were they ware, both these and those, of the cureless ill,

Of the ruinous error; and now did bitter anguish fill

The Minyan heroes, beholding before them Aineus’ child

Stretched in the dust, and Kyzikus lying blood-defiled.

For three whole days with rending of hair did they mourn his doom,

Even they with the Dolian folk. Thereafter about his tomb

Three times in their brazen armour the round of lament did they pace,

And buried him: funeral games held they in the selfsame place,{1060}

As was meet, in the meadow-plain where yet before the eyes

Of the folk of the latter day doth the heap of his grave-mound rise.

Yea, neither would Kleitê his wife any more mid the living abide,

Forlorn of her lord; but a woefuller evil she added beside

To the evil done, when clasping her neck with the noose she died.

Ah, but the Wildwood Maids made moan for the beautiful dead;

And of all the tears that to earth from their eyes for her sake they shed

A fountain the Goddesses made, and the name of it far and wide

Hath been heard, even Kleitê, the name of a most unhappy bride.

Ah, that was the darkest day that from Zeus did ever befall{1070}

The daughters and sons of the Dolian race, and in none of them all

Was there spirit to taste of food, and their hands for a weary while

By reason of grief hung down, and forgat the millstone’s toil:

But their lives dragged on, while untouched of the fire was the food that they ate.

Yea, the Ionian folk that in Kyzikus dwell even yet,

When they pour drink-offerings year by year, at the city’s mill

Grind ever their corn, for the querns in the houses of mourning are still.

And the wild winds woke at the sound of their mourning to shriek and to rave

Twelve days, twelve nights; and prisoned by wrath of wind and wave

Tarried the heroes from sailing, until, on the thirteenth night,{1080}

When the rest of the wanderers lay for the last time bowed by the might

Of slumber on that drear shore, while watch and ward was kept

Of Akastus and Mopsus Ampykus’ son over them that slept,—

Then over the golden head of Aison’s son did there fly

A kingfisher: clear through the hush his happy-boding cry

Rang for the lulling of winds; and Mopsus hearkening caught

The shore-bird’s note, and he knew it with happy omen fraught.

And a God’s hand guided its wing, that it wheeled and shot to the height

Of the Argo’s stern, and thereon hath it stayed its arrowy flight.

And the seer touched Jason, there on the fleeces soft as he lay{1090}

Of the sheep, and from slumber he roused him with haste, and thus did he say:

‘Aison’s son, thou must climb to the temple that standeth there

On Dindymus’ rugged height, and make to the Mother thy prayer,

The fair-throned Mother of all the Blest: and the stormy blast

Shall be stilled. For but now hath a cry by mine ears on the night-wind passed,

The weird sea-kingfisher’s cry; and around thy slumbering head

Wheeling its flight, it uttered the thing that my lips have said.

For swayed by her power be the winds, and the sea, and the earth below,

Yea also Olympus crowned with the everlasting snow.

And to her, when to heaven from her hills she ascendeth, doth Zeus give place,{1100}

Even Kronos’ son himself, and all the Deathless Race

Of the Blessèd in reverence bow before her awful face.’

So spake he: to hear that word the heart of Jason leapt.

Gladsome he sprang from his couch, and his comrades, there as they slept,

Did he waken in haste; and he told, as they gathered around him to hear,

The prophecy spoken of Mopsus Ampykus’ son, the seer.

Then steers from the byre the young men drave, and with speed they pressed

Up the steep hill-path with the beasts, till they won to the mountain’s crest.

From the Rock of Doom did others the hawsers of Argo slip:

To the Thracian haven they rowed, and leapt to the strand; and the ship{1110}

There guarded they left, for there tarried behind of their fellows a few.

And from Dindymus saw they the Makrian cliffs, and full in view

The stretch of the Thracian Coast oversea on this side lay,

And the Bosporus misty-dim, and the blue hills far away

Of Mysia-land, and the river Aisêpus on that side flowed,

And the town and the plain Nepeian of Adresteia showed.

Then found they the sturdy stock of a vine in the forest that grew,

A tree exceeding old: with the axes the same did they hew

For the Mountain-goddess’s sacred image: with cunning skill

Of the craftsman did Argus carve it; and so on the rugged hill{1120}

Did they set it up: for the shrine thereof stood tall oaks round,

Which of all trees root them the deepest beneath the face of the ground.

Then of loose stones built they an altar: with leaves from the oaken spray

They wreathed it around, and the sacrifice thereupon did they lay.

On the Mother majestic, on Dindymê’s Queen, the while did they call,

Who dwelleth in Phrygia: on Tityas they cried, on Kyllênê withal,

Who alone be called the Dispensers of Doom—by the judgment-seat

Of the Mother Idaean who sit—by all that priesthood of Crete,

The Daktylians of Ida, born in the cave Dictaean of yore

When the Nymph Anchialê clutched in the throes of travail, and tore{1130}

With the fingers of either hand the earth by Oaxus’ shore.

Knelt Aison’s son to the Goddess, and prayed her with earnest cries

To turn the tempest away, on the flame of the sacrifice

As he poured the wine. And the youths therewithal at Orpheus’ command

Trode round her altar the measure, an armour-sheathèd band,

And clashed with their swords on their shields, that the sound that boded them ill

Might be lost in the air, the wail for the dead, which the people still

In grief for their king sent up; for which cause unto this day

With timbrel and drum the Phrygians worship to Rhea pay.

And the Goddess of them that sought her was found, and inclined her ear{1140}

To the sacrifice-prayer: of her grace did tokens of good appear.

For the trees shed fruit in abundance down, and around their feet

The earth mid her tender grass with flowers unsown was sweet.

And the beasts of the wildwood came, forsaking thicket and lair,

Fawning with swaying tails: and another marvel there

Did the Goddess create, for that Dindymus never theretofore

With watersprings flowed; but now did a sudden torrent pour

From her thirsty crest, and the Fountain of Jason they name it still,

The folk that in after days dwell round that sacred hill.

In the Goddess’s honour a feast on the Bears’ Hill then dight they,{1150}

And Rhea the all-majestic they hymned: but at dawn of the day

Stilled were the winds, and with oars from the island sped they away.

Then hero was kindled with hero in gallant contention to try

Who last should be spent and refrain; for the peace of a windless sky

Laid level the swirls of the sea, and lulled to sleep the wave.

And putting their trust in the calm, ever onward and onward they drave

The ship by their might; and with her, through the brine as she darted and leapt,

Not even the storm-footed steeds of Poseidon the pace had kept.

Howbeit the surges awoke as from sleep, as the keen blasts blew,

Which swooped from the river-gorges as day to the evenfall drew:{1160}

And the heroes forspent with toiling refrained, save only one

Who by might of his hands tugged onward his weary comrades alone;

Even Herakles: quivered the strong-knit beams as he strained to the stroke.

But when, as they fled by the mainland-shore of the Mysian folk,

And Rhyndakus’ outfall they sighted, and, huge against the sky,

Aigaion’s cairn, past Phrygia a little, and slipped thereby,

Even then, through the furrows of roughened surge as he tugged and tore,

Snapped he the ashen blade, and, grasping the half of the oar

Yet in his hands, back Herakles fell, and the half swept down

The tossing wake of the ship. But he rose, and with angry frown{1170}

Sat gazing around, for his hands endured not idle to lie.

’Twas the hour when the delver or ploughman aback from the field doth hie

With joy to his hut, and his soul sore craveth the eventide meat,

And bow on the threshold his knees, and totter his weary feet.

All dust-besprent he beholdeth his cramped hands worn with toil,

With many a curse reviling the taskmaster Belly the while,—

Then came they to where in the land Kianian nestle her homes

’Neath Arganthônê, where Kios against the sea-tide foams.

Then as friends greet friends did the Mysians with kindly welcoming

Meet them, the people that dwelt in the land, and gifts did they bring,{1180}

Even sheep, and wine without stint therewithal gave they for their need.

Then sapless logs did some of them gather, and grass from the mead

Did some bring in, whereof great store for their couches they mowed,

The while in the hands of some the whirling fire-sticks glowed.

Some mingled the wine in the mazer, and ready the feast they dight,

Doing sacrifice to Apollo as deepened the shades of night.

But Zeus’ son spake to his comrades meetly the feast to prepare:

But into the forest himself hath hied, to the end that there,

Or ever he supped, for the grip of his hands he might fashion an oar.

Then found he a pine as he roved, and scant was the burden it bore{1190}

Of boughs, nor with heavy-clustering leaves was its shade made dim;

But like to the shaft it rose of a poplar tall and slim:

Even such was the measure thereof to behold in height and in girth.

Swiftly his arrow-fraught quiver hath Herakles cast to the earth

With the shafts therein: from his shoulders the lion’s hide did he strip.

With his brass-heavy club at its roots he smote, till he loosed earth’s grip.

Low down did he grasp the stem about with either hand,

Putting trust in his might: with shoulder against it thrust did he stand

With feet wide set. From the ground, deep-rooted albeit it grew,

Hath his grip upheaved it with all the clods that clave thereto.{1200}

And as when unawares the mast of a ship, in the very hour

When Orion’s storm-fraught setting is working in baleful power,

Is struck from on high by a tempest’s swiftly-swooping squall,

And with snapped stays rent from its box, and the wedges therewithal,

Even so he upwrenched that tree; and he gathered up arrows and bow,

And the lion’s hide, and his club; and he hasted him backward to go.

But Hylas the while with a pitcher of brass from the throng hath hied

Seeking a spring’s pure flow; for the feast of the eventide

To draw for him water against his return, and withal to prepare

With speed all things for the time when again his lord should be there.{1210}

For in suchlike service did Herakles nurture the lad and train

From the day when, a captive child, by the hero’s hand he was ta’en

From the home of his father Theodamas, slain in Dryopian land

Without ruth, when he dared for his ploughteam’s sake ’gainst the hero to stand.

For it fell, as Theodamas clave with the share the fallow field,

That mischief befell him; for Herakles came, and he bade him to yield

The heifer he ploughed withal unto him in his heart’s despite:

For against the Dryopian folk was he seeking occasion of fight,

For their bane, forasmuch as reckless of right in the land dwelt they:—

But the story thereof should lead me far from my song astray.{1220}

So in haste to the fountain he hied him, and Pegae hight that spring

Of the people that dwell in the field thereabout: and the dancing-ring

Of the Nymphs, as it chanced, was there; for all these loved full well—

Even all the Nymphs that about that fair hill wont to dwell—

In hymns through the night-tide ringing to chant unto Artemis still.

But they which inherit the mountain-crest, or the rushing rill,

And the Forest-haunters, were ranged from the fountain far away.

But it fell that the Water-nymph came floating up that day

From the depths of the fair-flowing spring:—lo, over her bendeth his face

In the rosy flush of its beauty, its manifold winsome grace.{1230}

For the full moon casting her beams from the height of the firmament

Smote him, and faintness of love on her soul the Cyprian sent,

And scarce she unravelled her thoughts in sweet confusion blent.

But over the fountain’s brim as aforetime aslant hath he bowed,

And plunged in the ripple the pitcher: the water gurgled loud

As into the echoing brass it poured; and the Fountain-maid

Her left arm slid from the depths, and around his neck was it laid

In her yearning to kiss those dainty lips, while, clutched by her right,

Drawn down was his arm, and through swirling eddies he sank from the light.

But his cry as he sank was heard of one of his comrades alone{1240}

Who trod that fountainward path, Polyphemus, Eilatus’ son,

To meet that giant hero when back he should fare to the feast.

By Pegae, following the cry, hath he rushed, like a wildwood beast

Unto whom from far away hath been wafted the bleating of sheep,

And with famine afire he pursueth; howbeit he may not leap

On the prey, for already the shepherds have penned them safe from the foe;

And in vehement rage must he moan and howl, till aweary he grow;

So Eilatus’ son made vehement moan, and he roamed to and fro

About the place; and his voice rang piteous, broken with woe.

Then suddenly drew he his mighty blade, and he rushed to pursue,{1250}

If perchance he were seized of beasts, or from ambush a robber-crew

Had leapt on him faring alone, and were haling afar their prey.

Then, even as he shook in his hand his naked sword, in the way

Came Herakles’ self to meet him, a giant form that sped

To the ship through the gloom; and he knew him, and straightway a tale most dread

He told, while laboured with heavy panting his heart, and he said:

‘God help thee, that I first bring to thee tidings of bitter pain!

Hylas hath gone to the spring, and returned not alive again!

Or robbers have seized him, and hale him away to captivity,

Or evil beasts are rending:—I heard but now his cry.’{1260}

Upon Herakles’ temples then did the great sweat-gouts upstart,

As he heard him speak, and the dark blood curdled about his heart.

In fury he flung to the earth the pine, and along that path

Rushed, whithersoever his feet might hurry his aimless wrath.

And as, stung by a gadfly, a bull rusheth onward frenzy-stirred

Forsaking the meadows and marshlands, the while of herdsman or herd

He taketh no heed, pressing on in his wild course now without check,

Now making a moment’s stand, and uplifting his massive neck,

He uttereth bellowings, mad with the sting of the cruel breese;

So he in his frenzy now would be plying his strong swift knees{1270}

Unresting, and now from his toil would he cease for a moment’s space,

And shouted:—the mighty voice rang far through the lonely place.

Eftsoons the morning-star rose over the mountain’s crest,

And the winds swept down from the gorges; and Tiphys cried on the rest

To get them aboard in haste, and to hearken the wind’s behest.

So with eager speed they embarked, and the anchor-stones of the ship

Heaved they aboard, and the hawsers thereof in haste did they slip.

And the midst of the sail bellied out with the blast, and far away

From the sea-strand with joy by Poseidon’s foreland wafted were they.

But it fell, in the hour when the dawn glad-eyed from the heaven doth beam,{1280}

From the east uprising, and all the earth-ways clearer gleam,

And the dewy wolds are a-sparkle beneath her flashing sheen,

Then were they ware of those that forsaken unwares had been.

Then mighty contention arose, and an indignation-burst

Most vehement-fierce, that any should go, and forsake the first

Of their comrades in prowess. But Aison’s son distraught with amaze

Spake never a word or bad or good in their evil case;

But devouring his soul he sat ’neath wilderment’s heavy load.

Then Telamon’s wrath waxed hot, and thus with the prince he chode:

‘Ha! sit thou there at thine ease!—good sooth, for thy profit was this,{1290}

That Herakles thus should be left; thou givest no counsel, I wis,

Lest haply his glory in Hellas should overshadow thee,

If the Gods peradventure vouchsafe us the home-return to see!—

What pleasure in words?—I will go, I only, with none of these

Thy comrades, who plotted with thee this treason to Herakles.’

He spake, and on Tiphys Hagnias’ son he rushed, and his ire

Gleamed through his eyes as the leaping flame of the ravening fire.

And now to the land of the Mysian men had they won back again

In despite of the driving surge, and the head-wind’s ceaseless strain;

But the two winged sons of Thracian Boreas rose thereupon,{1300}

And with fierce stern words from his purpose withheld they Aiakus’ son.

Unhappy they!—grim vengeance thereafter did Herakles wreak

Upon these who withheld the rest which were fain for the lost to seek.

For when from the games over Pelias dead they were wending again

Homeward, in Tenos the sea-girt he slew them; and heaped o’er the slain

The earth, and above that grave-mound reared he pillars twain,

The one whereof, a marvel exceeding for men to behold,

Sways to and fro in the blast when the North-wind whistleth cold.

Ay, so in the after-time these things were ordained to be.

But now did Glaukus appear unto them from the depths of the sea,{1310}

The servant of Nereus divine, the far-discerning seer.

High out of the waves his shaggy head and his breast did he rear

Even to the waist, and his brawny hand did the God stretch out