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  {610} Of manifold pleading now did the prince his mother beseech 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 My parents’ home, nor the town, but my dwelling afar had been At the ends of the earth, where never was heard the Kolchian name!’  {680}

She spake: but Medea’s cheeks flushed crimson; and maiden shame From the answer she yearned full sore to render withheld her long. And now was the word awake, and fluttered upon her tongue, And backward anon to her breast it flew like a startled bird. And often she parted her lovely lips to utter the word; Yet fainted her voice on the threshold of speech: but at last of her guile Thus spake she—and ever the bold Loves thrust her onward the while:

‘O Chalkiopê, mine heart for thy sons is disquieted sore, Lest my father destroy them forthright with the men from the alien shore; So ghastly a dream, while a moment I slumbered, but now did I see—  {690} And oh may the Gods forefend that the vision accomplished should be, Forbid that thy love for thy sons should be made heart-anguish to thee!’

So spake she, proving her sister, longing to hear her pray, Unprompted of her, for her help for her sons in the evil day. Strong anguish swept o’er the mother’s soul like a surging tide, For her terror at that she had heard, and with fervent beseeching she cried:

‘Yea, and to this same end did I come with eager speed, If with me thou wouldst haply devise and prepare some help for our need. But swear thou by Earth and by Heaven that thou wilt conceal in thine heart Whatsoever I say unto thee, and wilt bear therein thy part.  {700} By the Blessèd I pray thee, by thine own soul, by thy parents’ name, That thou see not my sons in torment destroyed by a doom of shame Horribly: else with my dear-loved sons will I die, and come A hateful vengeance-spirit to haunt thee from Hades’ home!’

So spake she, and straightway gushed her tears in torrent flow; And around her knees did she fling her arms in a passion of woe, And adown on her bosom she bowed her head; and there they two Over each other made piteous lament, and the dim halls through Went wailing low the sound of anguished women’s cry. And to her disquieted sorely Medea made reply:  {710}

‘God help thee!—what healing can I bring thee?—what talk is thine Of horrible curses and vengeance-spirits!—would God it were mine, Mine by a power firm-stablished, to save thy sons from bane! Be witness—the mighty oath of the Kolchians, the oath thou art fain I should swear—be witness the broad-arched Heaven, and the Earth below, Mother of Gods, that, so far as the bounds of my strength may go, I will fail thee not, if thy prayer be a boon that man may bestow.’

So spake she, and Chalkiopê made answer to her, and she said: ‘Now couldst thou not dare for the stranger—himself too asketh thine aid— By wile or by wisdom achievement of this emprise to win  {720} For the sake of my sons? Lo, now is his messenger Argus within, Praying that I would essay to win for them help of thy grace. In the mid-court left I him when I came to seek thy face.’

So spake she, and bounded within her Medea’s heart for delight: Her fair skin suddenly crimsoned, and swam before her sight A mist, as she flushed and burned; and answer she made thereunto:

‘Chalkiopê, according to that which is pleasing to you, Even so will I do. May I see with mine eyes the dawn not again, Nor mayst thou behold me long in the land of living men, If I count aught dearer to me than the lives of thee and thine,  {730} Even thy sons: for verily these be brethren mine, My kinsmen belovèd, my childhood-playmates: myself I call Thine own, own sister, my sister’s own little daughter withal, Since even as them the baby me to thy breast didst thou hold: So still have I heard the tale by the lips of my mother told. But go thou, in silence bury this my kindness, that so I may work out unwares to my parents my promise. At dawn will I go Unto Hekatê’s fane, to bear thither the drugs that shall cast a spell On the bulls for the stranger for whose sake all this strife befell.’

So the mother returned from the chamber, and spake to her sons full fain  {740} Of her sister’s help. But now did the tide of shame again And of terrible fear o’er the soul of Medea in solitude rise, That she in her sire’s despite for a man such deeds should devise.

Then night drew darkness over the earth; on the lonely sea The sailors gazed from their ships on the Bear and the flashing three Of Orion; and came upon every wayfarer longing for sleep, And on each gate-warder; and mothers, that daylong wont to weep For children dead, with the peace of slumber were folded around. No barking of dogs through the city there was any more, no sound Of voices, but all the blackening gloom was with silence bound.  {750} But not o’er Medea did sleep sweet dews of forgetfulness shake; For many a care in her yearning for Jason held her awake, Adread of the mighty strength of the bulls, ’neath the fury of whom He must die in the War-god’s acre, must die by a shameful doom. And with thick fast throbbings struggled the heart in her breast alway; As when on the wall of a dwelling the leaping sunbeams play Flung up from the water that into a caldron but now fell plashing, Or into a pail, and hither and thither the sunbeam flashing In lightning eddy and flicker is dancing in mad unrest, So quivered and fluttered the heart within the maiden’s breast.  {760} And the tears from her eyes were flowing for ruth, and through all her frame Like a smouldering fire her anguish burned, and coiled its flame Round every fine-strung nerve, and thrilled to her beating brain Where sharpest of all the pang strikes in, when the shafts of pain Are shot to the heart by the Loves that rest them never from harm. And now did she say that the drugs she would give that should bind with a charm The bulls, and now would she not, but with him would she cease to live. Swift changed her mood: she would not die, she, nor the drugs would she give, But in silence endure her fate, the curse that was doomed to betide. Then, there as she sat, she wavered this way and that, and she cried:  {770}

‘Oh hapless I, whether this way or that into ruin I fall! On every hand is despair for my soul: no help is at all From woe, but it burneth, a furnace unquenchèd!—would God it had been Mine to be slain ere this by the shafts of the Huntress-queen, Or ever I saw him, or came to Achaia-land the sons Of Chalkiopê, whom a God, or the awful Avenging Ones Hither, for sorrow to us, and for many a tear, have led! —Let him perish amidst of the struggle, if this be his weird, to be sped On the fallows of doom!—for how shall I ’scape my parents’ ken As the drugs I prepare? With what manner of words shall I blind them then?  {780} What wile, what cunning device for mine hero’s help shall I find? If I see him apart from his friends, shall I meet him with greeting kind? O ill-starred!—though he should die, yet cannot I hope that so Assuaging should come of my pain: nay, this should be but for my woe If he of his life were bereft—oh, get thee behind me, shame! Beauty, avaunt!—So scatheless by mine endeavour he came Out of peril, then might he fare wheresoever seemeth him best. But for me—on the selfsame day when triumphant he bideth the test, Then let me die, from the rafters straining my neck in the noose, Or tasting of poisons that rend the soul from the body loose.  {790} Ah, but after my dying!—what scoffs and what mocks will they fling On my grave!—and far and near how every city will ring With the tale of my doom; and from lip to lip shall be tossed the jeer, And a mock shall I be in the mouths of the daughters of Kolchis that sneer, “Lo, she that so lovingly cared for a man of an alien race That she died!—lo, she that on home and on parents heaped disgrace, Giving reins to her lust!” What shame should not be loaded on me? Ah me, my infatuate folly!—better by far should it be In this same night to forsake my life these chambers within By a fate of mystery, ’scaping from slander’s fiendish din,  {800} Or ever that hideous befouling, that nameless defilement, I win!’

She spake, and she rose, and a casket she brought, wherein there lay Many a drug, some helpful to heal, some mighty to slay. On her knees she laid it, and brake into weeping: her bosom-fold Was wet with her tears; from the wounds unstanched of her heart they rolled, As she bitterly wailed for her fate: and her soul was exceeding fain To choose her a murderous drug, and to taste oblivion of pain. And the eager fingers now of the hapless maid ’gan part The bands of the casket, to take it forth—but, with sudden start, With an awful fear of Hades the hateful shuddered her heart.  {810} Long spellbound sat she in speechless horror: around her thronged Visions of all sweet things for the which through life she had longed. She thought of the hours delightsome the lot of the living that fill, And she thought of her merry playmates, even as a maiden will. And sweeter than ever was grown the sun unto her to behold— No marvel, seeing she yearned for all so passionate-souled! So she put from her knees the casket, and laid it down again All changed by the promptings of Hêrê: no more did she waver then In her purpose; but now did she long for the dawning with speed to awake, For the dayspring to rise, that so to her hero the drugs she might take  {820} For the spell, as her covenant pledged her, and meet him face to face. And many a time she unbarred the doors of her chamber, to gaze Forth for the far faint gleam, and welcome flashed upon her The Child of the Mist, and throughout the city the folk ’gan stir.

Then Argus spake to his brethren, bidding them there to abide To learn the mind of the maiden, and how should her purpose betide; But himself turned backward again, and unto the galley he hied.

Now soon as the maiden beheld the splendour of dawn outrolled O’er the heavens, gathered she up with her hands her tresses of gold, Which over her shoulders in careless disarray hung loose:  {830} And she bathed her feverish cheeks, and with perfume shed from the cruse All nectar-scented her body shone; and a robe fair-wrought She donned, and with brooches cunningly-fashioned its folds upcaught. And the cloud of a veil did she cast o’er her head unearthly fair, And as silver it shimmered: she trode the floors of the palace there Pacing unfaltering to and fro, forgetful of all Those heaven-sent woes at the door, and of others that yet should befall. And she summoned her bower-maidens; twelve by tale were they: Through the night at the entering-in of her odorous chamber they lay, Young as herself, nor yet on the bridal couch embraced.  {840} And these she commanded to harness the mules to the wain in haste To bear their lady to Hekatê’s passing-beautiful fane. Wherefore the bower-maidens hasted and harnessed the mules to the wain. And Medea the while took forth from the casket a drug of might, The magic root that they say is the Herb of Prometheus hight. For if any with midnight sacrifice upon Daira shall call, The only-begotten, and smear his body therewithal, No stroke of brazen weapon shall wound the flesh of him, No, nor from blazing fire shall he flinch; but his strength of limb And his prowess throughout that day shall all their might confound.  {850} First-born it upshot from the clod in the hour when dropped to the ground From the ravening eagle’s beak, where the crags of Caucasus frowned, The ichor, the blood of a God, of Prometheus in torments bound. And the flower of it blossomed a cubit the face of the earth above: As the glow of the crocus Corycian, so was the hue thereof, Upborne upon pale stalks twain, and below in its earthy bed The root thereof as flesh new-severed was crimson-red. And the blood thereof, like a mountain-oak’s dark sap, in a shell From Caspian strand she gathered, to weave thereof a spell, When seven times she had bathed her in waters unresting that glide,  {860} And seven times upon Brimo the Nursing-mother had cried— Night-wandering Brimo, the Underworld Goddess, the Queen of the dead— And in dusky vesture clad through the blackness of night did she tread. And the dark earth shuddered and quaked deep down with muttering moan, As the Titan root was severed; yea, and Iapetus’ son In frenzy of heart-wringing agony groaned a fearful groan. This, from the casket ta’en, in her odorous girdle she laid, The girdle enclasping the waist divinely sweet of the maid. Then forth of the portal she paced, and she set her foot on the wain, And beside her went upon either hand bower-maidens twain.  {870} To her left hand gave they the reins, and the fair-fashioned whip hath she ta’en In her right; and adown through the city she drave; and the rest of the train Of her handmaids laid their hands on the wain, behind it to run Adown the highway broad, for their tunics delicate-spun Each maiden had kilted up above her ivory knee. ’Twas as when, where Parthenius’ soft-flowing ripples slide through the lea, Or as when, coming up from her bath in Amnisus’ crystalline water, High-borne on her golden chariot rideth Latona’s Daughter, Driving betwixt the hills the fleetfoot roes of her car, To greet the sacrifice-steam of a hecatomb afar;  {880} And the Nymphs in throngs upon throngs attend her, gathering some By the green well-head of Amnisus’ self, and others that come By the glens and the fountain-flashing heights; and fawn and whine The cowering beasts, as onward cometh the presence divine: So through the city they sped, and to this side and that of the street The people made way, neither dared they the eyes of the princess to meet. But when she had left behind her the city’s fair-paved ways, And was now drawn nigh, as she drave through the plain, to the holy place, Then from the smooth-running wain she stept to the earth straightway In haste; and unto her maidens thus did Medea say:  {890}

‘O friends, I have verily grievously sinned, for I took no thought To have nought to do with the strangers whose wandering feet have sought Our land:—lo now, with amazement’s perplexity smitten sore Is all the city, that none of the women, which heretofore Hitherward have assembled day by day, be now gathered here. But seeing that we be come, and that none beside draweth near, Come then, with delightsome song without stint or stay let us sing To our soul’s satisfying, and pluck we the lovely flowers that spring Mid the tender grass; and in this same hour on the homeward way Will we wend. Ye also with many a gift shall return this day  {900} Homeward, if now with mine heart’s desire ye will gladden me. For the pleading of Argus prevaileth with me, and of Chalkiopê:— But hide in your hearts that ye hear from me; let your lips be dumb, Lest to my father’s ears peradventure the story should come:— They beseech me to take rich gifts, and to save in his emprise fell Yon stranger who took it upon him the might of the bulls to quell. Yea, and their counsel was good in mine eyes, that I bade him appear In my presence this day, alone, with none of his comrades near, That we may divide those presents amongst us, if haply he bring The gifts in his hand, and may give him a spell-drug, a balefuller thing  {910} Than the strength of the bulls. But stand ye aloof when he draweth anigh.’ So spake she, and pleased them all her counsel of subtlety.

Now Argus apart from his comrades had sundered Aison’s son, So soon as he heard from his brethren how that Medea had gone Forth in the misty dawning to fare unto Hekatê’s fane; And over the plain did he lead him, and Mopsus companioned the twain, Ampykus’ son, most wise to interpret the tokens aright Of the coming of birds, and the signs to discern of their parting flight.

Never yet had there been such a man in the days of the men of old— Nor of them of the lineage of Zeus, nor the champions hero-souled  {920} Which sprang from the blood of the rest of the Gods that endure for aye— Such a man as the bride of Zeus made Jason to be that day In glory of bodily presence, in witchery of his tongue. And ever his comrades gazing upon him in wonderment hung On his radiance of manifold grace: and glad for the way they should wend Waxed Ampykus’ son, as foreboding, I trow, how all should end.

Now there is by the path through the plain, as ye draw to the temple anigh, A poplar that waveth his tresses of countless leaves on high; And thereon had the crows ever-babbling pitched as it were their tent, Whereof one, clapping her pinions, beneath her as these twain went,  {930} The counsel of Hêrê chanted, mid high boughs swayed to and fro:

‘Lo there, what a pitiful seer!—even that which the children know His wit can in no wise conceive, how that no word sweet and dear Maiden will murmur to man, while strangers be loitering near! Avaunt, vile prophet and witless!—on thee not the Cyprian Queen, On thee not the gentle Loves of their kindness are breathing, I ween!’

So ceased the voice of her chiding, and Mopsus smiled to hear The heaven-sent cry of the bird, and spake to the heroes the seer:

‘Now pass thou on to the Goddess’s temple: therein shalt thou find The maiden, O Aison’s son: thou shalt prove her passing kind  {940} By the promptings of Kypris, who also thine helper shall be in thy toil, Even as prophesied Phineus, Agênor’s son, erewhile. But we twain, Argus and I, thy coming again will abide Aloof, yea, in this same place: but thou, with none beside, With wise words plead with the maiden, and win her thy will to do.’ So in his wisdom he spake, and the others consented thereto.

But Medea—her thoughts unto nought else turned, upon nought could be stayed, Howsoever she sang—but never a song, howsoe’er she essayed, Pleased her, that long its melody winged her feet for the dance; But ever she faltered amidst them, her eyes ever wandered askance  {950} Away from the throng of her maidens unresting; and over the ways, Turning aside her cheeks, far off ever strained she her gaze. O the heart in her breast oft fainted, whenever in fancy she heard Fleet past her the sound of a footfall, the breath of a breeze as it stirred. But it was not long ere the hero appeared to her yearning eyes Stately striding, as out of the ocean doth Sirius uprise, Who climbeth the sky most glorious and clear to discern from afar, But unto the flocks for measureless mischief a baleful star: Even so came Aison’s son to the maiden glorious to see,— But with Jason’s appearing dawned on her troublous misery.  {960} Then it seemed as her heart dropped out of her bosom; a dark mist came Over her eyes, and hot in her cheeks did the blushes flame. Nor backward nor forward a step could she stir: all strength was gone From her knees; and her feet to the earth seemed rooted; and one after one Her handmaidens all drew back, and with him was she left alone.

So these twain stood—all stirless and wordless stood face to face: As oaks they seemed, or as pines upsoaring in stately grace, Which side by side all still mid the mountains rooted stand When winds are hushed; but by breath of the breeze when at last they are fanned, Stir they with multitudinous murmur and sigh—so they  {970} By love’s breath stirred were to pour out all in their hearts that lay.

Then Aison’s son beheld how the maiden’s soul was adread With wilderment heaven-sent, and kindly-courteous he said:

‘Wherefore, O maiden, dost fear me so sorely, alone as I am? Never was I as the loud-tongued blusterers, void of shame, No, not when aforetime I dwelt in my fatherland oversea: Wherefore be thou not, maiden, over-abashed before me, That thou shouldst not inquire whatsoever thou wilt, or utter thy mind. But, seeing we twain be met with friendly hearts and kind In a place where sin is of heaven accurst, in a hallowed spot,  {980} Speak thou, and question withal as thou wilt: but beguile me not With pleasant words, forasmuch as thou gavest thy promise erewhile To thy sister, to give me the charm that I long for, the herbs of guile. I beseech thee in Hekatê’s name—for the sake of thy parents I pray, And of Zeus, that o’er stranger and suppliant stretcheth his hand alway! Lo, a suppliant am I, a stranger withal, which am come to thee here, In sore straits bending the knee; for in this my task of fear Shall I nowise prevail, except I be holpen of thine and thee. And to thee will I render requital of thanks in the days to be— As is meet and right for them in a far-away land which dwell—  {990} Making glorious thy name and thy fame, and mine hero-companions shall tell The story of thy renown, when to Hellas again they have won; Yea, and the heroes’ wives and mothers, who now make moan For us, I ween, on the strand as they sit by the sighing brine: And to scatter in air their bitter affliction is thine—is thine! Not I were the first—was Theseus not saved from the ordeal grim By Minos’ child for her kindness’ sake which she bare unto him, Ariadne, born of the Sun-god’s daughter Pasiphaê? But she, when slumbered the wrath of Minos, over the sea Sailed with the hero, forsaking her land. The Immortals divine  {1000} Loved well that maid: in the midst of the firmament set is her sign, A crown of stars, which they name Ariadne’s diadem, All night circling amidst of the signs that the heavens begem. Thou also shalt have of the Gods like thanks, if thou shalt redeem From destruction so goodly a host of heroes—ah, needs must it seem That through form so lovely as thine should the beauty of kindness beam!’

Extolling her so spake he; and her eyelids drooped, while played A nectar-smile on her lips; and melted the heart of the maid By his praising uplifted: her eyes are a moment upraised to his eyes, And all speech faileth: no word at the first to her lips may rise;  {1010} But in one breath yearned she to speak forth all her joy and her pain. And with hand ungrudging forth from her odorous zone hath she ta’en The charm, and he straightway received it into his hands full fain. Yea, now would she even have drawn forth all her soul from her breast, And had laid it with joy in his hands for her gift, had he made request, So wondrously now from the golden head of Aison’s son Did Love out-lighten the witchery-flame; and her sweet eyes shone With the gleam that he stole therefrom, and her heart glowed through and through Melting for rapture away, from the lips of the rose as the dew At the sun’s kiss melteth away, when the dayspring is kindled anew.  {1020} And these twain now on the earth were fixing their eyes abashed, And anon yet again their glances each on the other they flashed, As with radiant eyelids they smiled a heart-beguiling smile: And bespake him the maiden at last, yet scarce after all this while:

‘Give thou heed now, that my counsel may haply be for thine aid. What time at thy coming my father within thine hands shall have laid The crop of the serpent’s jaws for thy sowing, the teeth of bane, Then shalt thou watch for the hour when the night is sundered in twain. Then thou, when first in the river’s tireless flow thou hast bathed, Alone, with none other beside thee, in night-hued vesture swathed,  {1030} Shalt dig thee a rounded pit, and over the dark earth-bowl Shalt thou slaughter a ewe, and shalt burn the unsevered carcase whole On a pyre, the which on the very brink of the pit thou hast piled, And propitiate only-begotten Hekatê, Perseus’ child, Out of a chalice pouring the hive-stored toil of the bee. So when thou hast sought the grace of the Goddess heedfully, Then turn thee to pass from the pyre, and beware lest any sound Or of footfalls behind thee startle thee, so that thou turn thee round, Or of having of hounds, lest all that is wrought be undone thereby, And thyself to thine hero-companions never again draw nigh.  {1040} And in water at dawn shalt thou steep this herb, and thy limbs shalt thou bare, And even as with oil shalt anoint thee therewith; and prowess there Shalt thou find, and strength exceeding great: thou wouldst nowise say That with men thou couldst match thee in might, but with Gods that abide for aye. Therewithal be thy lance and thy buckler besprent with the magic dew, And thy sword: then shall not the spear-heads prevail to pierce thee through Of the Earth-born men, nor the fiery breath of the bulls of bane Unendurably darting. Yet no long time shalt thou thus remain, But only for that same day: notwithstanding flinch not thou From the toil; and another thing yet for thine help will I tell to thee now:  {1050} So soon as the mighty bulls thou hast yoked, and by manifold toil And by strength of thine hands hast sped the share through the stubborn soil, And adown the furrows the bristling harvest of giants shall stand, Where fell on the dusky clods the serpent’s teeth from thine hand, Even as thou mark’st them in throngs through the fallows upbursting to day, Cast thou in their midst unawares a massy stone: and they, As ravening hounds o’er a gobbet of flesh that wrangle, shall slay Each one his fellow: thou also in battle-fury shalt fall On the rout. So the Golden Fleece unto Hellas, if this be all, From Aia afar shalt thou bear:—O yea, turn thou and depart  {1060} Whithersoever it pleaseth thee: seek the desire of thine heart!’

She spake, and her eyes to the earth at her feet in silence she cast; And her cheeks divinely fair were wet as her tears fell fast, As she sorrowed because that far and afar from her side o’er the main He must wander away. And she looked in his eyes, and she spake yet again With mournful word, and his right hand now hath she ta’en in her own; For the shamefastness now from her eyes on the wings of love had flown:

‘But O remember, if ever thou com’st to thine home afar, Medea’s name: and in like wise I, when sundered we are, Will forget thee not. But tell, of thy good will, where is thine home,  {1070} Whitherward bound thou wilt fare in thy galley over the foam. Is it unto Orchomenus’ wealthy burg that thy feet shall go? Or anigh to Aiaia’s isle? Of the maiden fain would I know, Some maiden far-renowned, whom thou namedst the daughter, I wis, Of Pasiphaê: kinswoman unto my sire that lady is.’

So did she speak; and over him stole, as the maiden wept, Love the victorious; and answering speech to his lips hath leapt:

‘Yea, verily, never by night, I ween, and by day nevermore Shalt thou be forgotten of me, if unto Achaia’s shore Unscathed I shall ’scape indeed, and Aiêtes before me set,  {1080} For mine hands to achieve, none other toil more desperate yet. But if this hath pleased thee, to learn what land I call mine own, I will tell thee—yea, and mine own heart biddeth me make it known A country there is—steep mountain-ramparts around it run— A land of streams and of pastures, wherein Iapetus’ son, Even Prometheus, begat the valiant Deukalion, Who of all men was first that builded a city, or reared a fane To the Deathless, and first was he of the kings over men that reign. That land do the folk that around it dwell Haimonia call. Therein is my city Iolkos found: therein withal  {1090} Stand many beside, where not so much have they heard as the name Of Aiaia’s isle: but rumour hath told how Minyas came Thereout, even Minyas Aiolus’ son, and builded the town Of Orchomenus; over the marches Kadmeian her towers look down. Yet why should I speak things vain as the wild winds’ empty sound Of our home, of the daughter of Minos, the princess far-renowned Ariadne—the glorious name whereby that heart’s desire Was called among men, the maiden of whom thou dost inquire? Would God that, even as Minos his heart unto Theseus inclined For her sake, so would thy father with me be in friendship joined!’  {1100}

So spake he, with tender words and caressing the maiden to woo. But anguish exceeding bitter was thrilling the heart of her through: And in sorrow of spirit with vehement words she made reply:

‘O haply in Hellas ’tis good to be heedful of friendship’s tie: But Aiêtes is not such a man among men as thou saidst but now Was Minos, Pasiphaê’s lord; and with Ariadne, I trow, May I nowise compare me: wherefore of guest-love speak not thou. Only remember thou me, when safe thou hast sped thy flight To Iolkos; and I will remember—yea, in my parents’ despite Will remember thee: and from far may a rumour come unto me,  {1110} Or a messenger-bird with the tidings, when I am forgotten of thee! Or me, even me, may the swift-winged blasts from the earth’s breast tear, And away hence over the sea to the land of Iolkos bear, That so I might cast reproaches on thee, yea, unto thy face, And remind thee that all by mine help thou escapedst—but oh that my place That day were of right in thine halls, the place of a queen at the board!’

So spake she, and down her cheeks the piteous tears aye poured. But he caught up her words even there, and with comforting speech did he say:

‘O stricken one, leave thou the empty blasts at their will to stray, And the messenger-bird to roam, for thy words are but vanity!  {1120} But if ever thou come unto those abodes, if Hellas thou see, Honour and worship of men and of women then shall be thine; Yea, they shall reverence thee as a very presence divine, Because that again to their homes did the sons of the Hellenes win By thy devising, yea, and the brethren of these, and their kin; And many a stalwart husband of thee hath received his life. Then shalt thou enter the bridal bower with me—my wife; And nothing shall come between our love, and nothing shall sunder, Till death’s shroud fold us around, and our hearts are chilled thereunder.’

He spake, and to hear him her soul was melted within her then:  {1130} Yet she shuddered to see the deeds whose end was beyond her ken. Ah hapless!—not long was she doomed to refuse a home in the land Of Hellas, for hereunto was she guided of Hêrê’s hand, To the end that for Pelias’ bane Aiaian Medea might come Unto Iolkos the hallowed, forsaking her fatherland-home.

But by this from afar were the handmaids glancing towards these twain Full oft in disquiet; for need was now, as the day ’gan wane, That the maiden unto her mother should turn her homeward again. But she thought not yet of departing, such joy did her spirit take Alike in his goodlihead, and the winsome words that he spake.  {1140} But Aison’s son took heed, and late and at last did he say:

‘Lo now, it is time to depart, lest the sun’s light fade away Before we be ware, and lest some stranger should haply espy All this. Yet again will we meet, coming hitherward, thou and I.’

So in sweetest communion did these try each the other’s heart Thus far; and thereafter they sundered. And now did Jason depart Unto his friends and the ship, while his heart for joy beat high; And she to her handmaids, and all in a troop did these draw nigh To meet her: she marked them not, as unto her side they drew; For her soul to the clouds had soared far up ’twixt earth and the blue.  {1150} And with feet that moved in a dream she mounted the fleet-running wain: In her left hand grasped she the reins, in her right the whip hath she ta’en Curious-fashioned, to drive the mules; and fast did they flee, As on to the city they sped and the palace; and Chalkiopê ’Gan ask her of all that befell, for her sons’ sake anguish-stirred; But rapt in a trance of thoughts back-drifting she heard not a word, And to all that eager questioning never a word she said: But adown on a lowly stool did she sit at the foot of the bed, On her left hand propping her cheek as she wearily drooped aside; And with tears were her eyes brimming over, as surged the dark chill tide  {1160} Of remembrance of emprise dread that the covenant bound her to bide.

Now when Aison’s son had wended aback to the place where stayed His comrades, what time he had left them in faring to meet the maid. Then, telling them all the story the while, with these did he hie To the throng of the heroes; and now to the galley drew they anigh. And they saw him, and lovingly greeted, and asked him of all that befell: And he in the midst of them all did the maiden’s counsels tell; And he showed them the dread spell-drug. One only of all sat apart, Idas, nursing his wrath: but the others with joyful heart Turned them, when darkness fell, their hands from their labour to stay,  {1170} And in great peace laid them down to their rest: but with dawning day To Aiêtes, to ask for the seed of the serpent, sent they away Two men; and foremost Telamon Arês-beloved they sent, And Aithalides, glorious scion of Hermes, beside him went. So went they, and not for nought, for to these at their coming were given Of Aiêtes the king the teeth for the grim strife hard to be striven, The teeth of the dragon Aonian, that, seeking the wide world through For Europa, Kadmus found in Ogygian Thêbê, and slew, The monster that lurked, a warder, beside the Aretian spring. There also he dwelt, by the heifer led, which Apollo the king  {1180} By the word of prophecy gave for his guide, that he should not stray. These teeth did Tritonis the Goddess tear from its jawbone away, And the gift on Aiêtes and him that had slain the beast she bestowed. On the plain Aonian Kadmus the teeth of the serpent sowed; And an earth-born nation was founded there of Agênor’s son, The remnant left when the harvest of Arês’ spear was done. So the teeth to bear to the galley Aiêtes gave full fain, For he weened that to win to the goal of his task he should strive in vain, Yea, though to the yoking of those dread bulls he should haply attain.

And the sun down under the dark earth far away in the west,  {1190} Beyond the uttermost hills of the Aethiops, sank to his rest; And the Night was laying her yoke on the necks of her steeds. Then spread On the shore by the hawsers of Argo the heroes each his bed. But Jason, so soon as the flashing stars of the circling Bear Had set, and under the firmament hushed was all the air, Unto the wilderness even as a thief all stealthily hied With whatso was needful; for all had he taken thought to provide In the day: and fared with him Argus, and milk from the flock he bore, And a ewe therewithal; for these had he ta’en from the galley’s store. But when he beheld the place, which was far aloof from the tread  {1200} Of men, where under the unscreened sky the clear meads spread, There first of all in the flow of the sacred river he bathed His limbs full reverently, and all his body he swathed In a dark-hued cloak, which Hypsipylê, daughter of Lemnos’ race, Gave him aforetime, memorial of many a loving embrace. Thereafter he digged him a pit in the plain of a cubit wide, And the billets he heaped, and the lamb’s throat cut by the dark pit’s side. And the carcase he stretched on the pile, and he thrust thereunder the fire And kindled the brands, and mingled libations he poured on the pyre, Calling on Hekatê Brimo to draw for his helper nigh.  {1210}

And when he had called on her, backward he fared, and she hearkened his cry. Out of nethermost caverns of darkness the Awful Queen drew near To the Aisonid’s sacrifice, and about her did shapes of fear, Even serpents, in horrible wreaths and knots, mid the oak-boughs hang: And flashed a fitful splendour of torches unnumbered; and rang Around her wild and high the baying of hounds of hell. And all the meadow-land trembled under her tread; and the yell Pealed of the marish-haunting Nymphs of the river, that dance In the pastures wherethrough Amaryntian Phasis’ ripples glance. And terror gat hold upon Aison’s son; but, for all his dread,  {1220} Yet he turned him not round as his feet thence bore him, until he had sped Back to his friends: and by this over Caucasus’ snow-flecked height, As she rose, was the Dawn mist-cradled shooting her shafts of light.

And now did Aiêtes array in the corslet of stubborn mould His breast, the corslet that Arês gave, in the day when rolled Mimas of Phlegra beneath his hands in the dust of doom. And he set on his head the golden helmet of fourfold plume Flaming like to the world-encompassing sun’s red gleam, When first in the dawning he leapeth up from the Ocean-stream. He uplifted his manifold-plated shield, and he grasped in his hand  {1230} His terrible spear and resistless: was none that before it might stand Of the rest of the heroes, since Herakles now they had left afar: He only against it had matched his might in the shock of war. And his fair-fashioned chariot of fleet-footed steeds was stayed for the king By Phaethon hard by; then to the chariot-floor did he spring; And he drew through his fingers the reins, and forth of the city-gate Drove he along the broad highway, by the lists of fate To stand; and a countless multitude hastened forth at his side. And as when to the Isthmian athlete-strife Poseidon doth ride High-borne on his car, or Tainarus-wards, or to Lerna’s mere,  {1240} Or Hyantian Onchestus, the temple-grove that the nations revere; And as when to Kalaurea oft-times his chariot-wheels have rolled, And Haimonia’s rock, and Geraistus’ town that the forests enfold, Even so was Aiêtes, lord of the Kolchian folk, to behold.

But Jason the while, obeying the rede from Medea that came, In water hath steeped that drug; and he sprinkled his shield with the same, And his sturdy spear and his sword; and his comrades with might and main Made proof of his harness, thronging around: yet essayed they in vain To bend that spear, though it were but a little; but evermore Unyielding and stark it abode in their strong hands, even as before.  {1250} But Idas, Aphareus’ son—for with wrath was the heart of him black— With his great sword hewed at the shaft by the butt; but the blade leapt back As hammer from anvil, jarred by the shock; and a mighty shout From the heroes rejoicing in hope of the trial’s end rang out. Thereafter his own limbs Jason sprinkled; and lo, he was filled With terrible prowess, unspeakable, aweless; the hands of him thrilled Tingling with strength, as waxed their sinews with gathering might. And even as when a battle-steed afire for the fight Leapeth and neigheth and paweth the ground, and glorying rears His neck like a stormy-crested billow, and pricketh his ears,  {1260} Even so in the pride of his prowess triumphant was Aison’s son, And hither and thither on high he bounded now and anon, In his hands uptossing his brazen shield and his spear’s tough ash. Thou hadst said that adown through the murky welkin the leaping flash Of the tempest-levin was gleaming and flickering once and again From the clouds that are bringing hard after their burden of blackest rain. Nor long time now would they tarry from faring forth to essay The emprise, but row after row upon Argo’s thwarts sat they, And onward exceeding swiftly to Arês’ plain they sped. Overagainst the city so far before them it spread  {1270} As the space from the start to the turning-post that the car must win What time, when a king unto Hades hath passed, his princely kin For hero and horse ordain the strife of the funeral game. There found they Aiêtes, and other the tribes of the Kolchian name, The folk on the cliffs Caucasian in lines far-stretching arrayed, While the king by the winding brink of the river their coming stayed.

And Aison’s son, when his comrades had made the hawsers fast, Then with his spear and his shield to the mighty trial passed, Bounding from Argo forth; and there was he bearing with him His gleaming helm with the dragon’s sharp teeth filled to the brim,  {1280} With his brand on his shoulders slung, bare-limbed, and in some wise seeming As Arês, in some wise Apollo the lord of the sword gold-gleaming. O’er the fallow he glanced, and the brazen yoke of the bulls he espied. And the plough, hewn solid of massy adamant, therebeside. So he strode thereunto, and beside it his strong spear planted upright On the butt-spike thereof, and leaning against it the morion he pight. Then tracing the countless tracks of the bulls right on did he fare With nought but his shield: but suddenly forth from an unseen lair, From a den in the bowels of the earth, wherein was their grimly stall, Whereover the lurid-gleaming smoke ever hung as a pall,  {1290} Forth rushed they together as one, outbreathing the splendour of flame; And the heroes quaked when they saw. But Jason, as onward they came, Set wide his feet; and even as a rock in the sea doth abide The charging surges whereon the scourging storm-blasts ride, Before him he held to withstand them his shield; and the terrible twain Their strong horns bellowing dashed against it with might and main: Nevertheless by their onset they stirred him never a jot. And even as when the armourers’ bellows of stout hide wrought In the piercèd melting-pot anon with murmur and sigh Kindle the ravening flame, and anon doth the breath of them die;  {1300} And an awful roar goeth up therefrom as the flames leap higher From beneath, even so these twain outbreathing the rushing fire Roared from their mouths, and about him as lightning leapt and played The devouring blaze: yet warded him ever the spells of the maid. Then grasped he the tip of the horn of the right-hand monster, and so Mightily haled with his uttermost strength, till he bowed it low To the brazen yoke, and, striking its hoof of brass with his foot, Suddenly cast it adown on its knees, and its fellow brute, Even as it charged him, with one thrust down on its knees did he throw. Then his broad shield cast he away on the ground, and, to and fro  {1310} To this side and that side striding, he kept them fall’n in their place On their fore-knees, swiftly moving athwart the fervent blaze, While marvelled the king at the hero’s might. Then drew nigh two, Even Tyndareus’ sons—for that thus long since had he bidden them do;— And they lifted and gave him the yoke on the necks of the bulls to be bound: And deftly thereon did he bind it, and ’twixt them upraised from the ground The brazen pole, and he made it fast by its pointed tip Unto the yoke: and they twain back from the fire to the ship Withdrew. Then he caught up again, and cast on his shoulders his shield Behind him; the helmet strong with the serpent’s sharp teeth filled  {1320} He grasped, and his spear resistless, wherewith, as a ploughman wight Pricketh his oxen with goad Pelasgian, so did he smite The flanks of the monsters, and starkly and steadily still did he hold Unswerving the plough-heft cunningly fashioned of adamant mould. But the bulls were raging the while with fury exceeding sore Outbreathing the ravening splendour of fire: as that mad roar Of the buffeting winds was the blast of their breath, when the seafarers quail At their yelling above all else, and furl the straining sail. Yet it was not long ere the beasts, as the stern spear bade them to toil, Moved on, and behind them was broken the fallow’s rugged soil  {1330} Cloven apart by the might of the bulls and the ploughman strong. And terribly crashed and groaned, the ploughshare’s furrows along, The clods uprent, of a man’s load each, and with sturdy stride Trampling the path the hero followed, and aye flung wide The teeth of the serpent over the clods upheaved by the share, Ever heedfully turning his head, lest haply, or e’er he was ware, The harvest fell of the Earth-born against him should rise: and with strain Of brazen hoofs on laboured the while that fearsome twain. And it was so, that when the third part now was left of the day, From the dawn as it waned, when the toil-forwearied labourers pray  {1340} ‘O come to us, sweet unyoking-tide! O tarry thou not!’ Even then by the stalwart ploughman the fallowfield’s earing was wrought, For all it was ploughgates four; and the bulls from the yoke loosed he, And with shouting and smiting he scared them over the plain to flee. Then back toward Argo he hied him again, while yet all clear Of the Earth-born brood the furrows he saw; and with cheer on cheer His comrades hailed him and heartened. He plunged the brazen gleam Of his helm mid the river’s waters, and slaked his thirst from the stream. Then bent he his knees till supple they grew; and he filled with might His great heart, battle-aflame as a boar, when he whetteth for fight  {1350} Against the hunters his tushes, and drippeth the plenteous froth Down from his jaws to the ground, as he churneth their foam in his wrath. Now by this was the harvest of Earth-born men over all that field 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.