The Argonautica

First in my song shalt thou be, O Phoebus, the song that I sing Of the heroes of old, who sped, at the hest of Pelias the king, When down through the gorge of the Pontus-sea, through the Crags Dark-blue, On the Quest of the Fleece of Gold the strong-ribbed Argo flew.

For an oracle came unto Pelias, how that in days to be A terrible doom should be dealt him of him whom his eyes should see From the field coming in, with the one foot only sandal-shod. Nor long thereafter did Jason fulfil the word of the God: For in wading the rush of Amaurus swollen with wintertide rain One sandal plucked he forth of the mire, but the one was he fain To leave in the depths, for the swirl of the waters to sweep to the main. Straightway to the presence of Pelias he came, and his hap was to light On a banquet, the which unto Father Poseidon the king had dight, And the rest of the Gods, but Pelasgian Hêrê he heeded not. And the king beheld him, and straightway laid for his life the plot, And devised for him toil of a troublous voyage, that lost in the sea, Or lost amid alien men his home-return might be.

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. 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. 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.

There were there steadings of cattle, and Amykus’ farms were there, Proud king of Bebrykian men, whom erst a wood-nymph bare; For Bithynian Meliê couched with Poseidon the Lord of Birth. Overweening was this their son above all the children of Earth, Who even on wayfaring strangers his tyrannous ordinance laid That they should not depart from his land till that trial of prowess were made Against him with the fist: and neighbours full many he smote that they died. And now to the galley he came; but he scorned in the height of his pride To inquire of them wherefore they voyaged, or ask what men were they: But with sudden defiance he challenged them all, and thus did he say:

“Sea-rovers, hearken the thing that is meet and right ye should know. This is the ordinance⁠—none may depart, from my country to go, Even none who hath come to Bebrykia’s folk out of alien lands, Or ever against mine hands he hath lifted in battle his hands. Choose for you therefore the mightiest man of all your array, And set ye him here for the strife of the fist against me this day. But and if ye shall shrink from the trial, and trample my laws underfoot, Verily mighty constraint shall pursue you with bitter pursuit.”

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, 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. 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.