This day, O Muse, in the presence of a friend it behoves thee to stand,
Even the King of Kyrene, the goodly battle-steed’s land,
That so, when Arkesilas leadeth the revel-dance sweeping along,
Thou at his side mayst be swelling the breeze of acclaiming song
Which is due unto Leto’s children, to Pytho the temple due,
Where of old, when Apollo’s presence was a glory that shone therethrough,
The priestess enthroned by the golden eagles of Zeus revealed
That Battus should found an empire in Libya’s fruitful field,
Should depart from his hallowed island, and build on the gleaming height
Of the breast of the earth a city of chariots splendour-dight.
In the seventeenth generation so should the word be fulfilled
Which at Thera Medea spake, which the daughter passionate-willed
Of Aietes, the Colchian princess, breathed from immortal lips
To the heroes that with Jason fared on the highway of ships:
“Hearken to me, ye scions of warriors mighty-souled,
Ye that of Gods be descended, to the thing of my tongue foretold:
Lo, from this land of Thera that is scourged by the brine of the sea
Shall in Epaphus’ daughter Libya be planted in days to be
A root that shall grow into cities that mortals shall hold full dear.
To the temple-foundations of Ammon, of Libyan Zeus, lying near.
“And instead of the short-finned dolphin shall they take the fleetfoot steed,
Wield reins instead of the oar-blade, drive chariots of whirlwind speed.
For by that augury-token fulfilled shall be Thera’s fate
To become the mother-city of burgs exceeding great,
That token the which aforetime at Tritonis the mere’s outflow
On Euphemus who leapt from Argo did a God of the sea bestow,
A God who in man’s shape proffered a clod of earth for his gift:
And Zeus Kronion thundered approval thereof from the lift.
“For he lighted on us, that stranger, as the men were in act to hang
Upon Argo’s side the anchor, the curb of the brazen fang.
Over ridges of homeless desert had they borne for twelve days’ space
Away from the Ocean the galley that wont o’er the sea to race;
For they haled her ashore, obeying the counsel spoken of me.
Then came that Solitary, the Triton-god of the sea,
Wearing the splendid semblance of a worship-worthy man,
And with words of kindly welcome his utterance began,
Such speech as of hosts good-hearted is spoken, when such draw near
Unto far-travelled guests, and bid them to taste of the banquet’s cheer.
“Howbeit for that guest-feasting the heroes might not stay,
For the lure of the sweet home-coming beckoned them ever away.
But Eurypylus he named him, deathless Earth-shaker’s son,
Born of the Land-enfolder: yet marking our haste to begone,
He put forth his hand, and straightway caught up from the earth a clod
As it lay at his feet, and proffered the same as the gift of a god.
Nor scorned it Euphemus, but leaping from Argo’s deck to the strand
He received that fateful guest-gift, and clasped the giver’s hand.
But alas, it abode not with us! Washed over the galley’s side
It fleeted away on the sea-brine in the dusk of eventide
“Adrift on the heaving outsea: yet laid I once and again
My charge to watch it safely on our helpers the serving-men:
But ah, they forgat! So on Thera’s isle the unperishing seed
Of Libya the wide is upwashen before the time decreed.
For if only Euphemus, the scion of Poseidon the chariot-lord—
Whom Europa Tityos’ daughter bare on the margent-sward
Of Kephisus—to Tainarus speeding, there in the homeland had hurled
That clod through the chasm-portals of Hades’ underworld,
“Then in the fourth generation the sons of his blood had ta’en
With the Danaans’ help possession of Libya’s boundless plain;
For then from great Lacedaemon, from Argos’ wide-mouthed bay
And Mycenae, had warriors thither fared in a mighty array.
But, as things have befallen, Euphemus shall wed with an alien dame,
And shall win him from those espousals a chosen seed of his name
The which, of the high Gods honoured, shall come unto Thera’s strand
And beget a man to be ruler of that cloud-shadowed land:
Unto him in the hall of Phoebus, the temple rich in gold,
Shall the word of the revelation of an oracle be told,
“When in days to come he descendeth into the sanctuary
At Pytho, bidding him carry a host of men oversea
To Kronion’s fertile precinct that lieth beside the Nile.”
Even such was the chant prophetic that Medea uttered, the while
Moveless sitting in silence the heroes bowed the head,
And hearkened the counsel of wisdom that breathed in the words that she said.
Blest scion of Polymnestus, of no man save of thee
The oracle told that glory by the voice of the Delphic Bee
With utterance unprompted; and “All hail!” thrice she cried,
And proclaimed thee the destined ruler of Kyrene’s kingdom wide,
When thou earnest to ask what healing the Gods would grant of their grace
For thy stammering tongue. Of a surety now in the latter days,
As when mid the springtide’s roses a burgeoning tree is seen,
So, eighth in the line of Battus, Arkesilas’ leaf is green.
Even him did Apollo and Pytho cause to be triumph-renowned
In the chariot-race in the presence of all folk dwelling around.
I will hymn his fame to the Song-queens, and will sing of the Golden Fleece,
Of the Minyans’ Quest and the sowing of god-given glory for these.
What Power overshadowing lured them forth on the sea-track long?
What peril to that Quest bound them with clamps as of adamant strong?
A god-given oracle boded that Pelias should die
By the hands of Aiolus’ children, or their merciless subtlety.
Yea, a prophecy came to him chilling the heart of the crafty-souled;
From the mid-stone of Earth-mother vestured with trees was the word outrolled:
“Above all things else beware thou with uttermost heed,” said the God,
“Of the man that from highland homesteads with single sandal shod
Unto far-renowned lolkos of the sunny plains shall fare,
Be he a man of thy country, or stranger from otherwhere.”
At the last was he come, a hero of wondrous-mighty frame;
With lances twain that quivered in his iron grasp he came.
And twofold vesture arrayed him; the garb of the Magnete folk
To his goodly limbs close-lapping clung; but tossed like a cloak
O’er his shoulders a pard’s fell screening from arrowy showers lay.
From the glory of his bright tresses nought had been shorn away,
But unminished, a rippling splendour, adown his back they shone.
With feet unfaltering straightway and swiftly strode he on,
And he stood, as one that proveth a spirit of peril uncowed,
In the midst of the place of folkmote filled with its thronging crowd.
And no man knew him; but awestruck they gazed, and one spake word:
“Of a surety is this not Apollo, nor Aphrodite’s lord
Of the chariot of brass! And Otus, and Ephialtes thou
The dauntless, in gleaming Naxos perished long ere now,
Ye sons of Iphimedeia; nor Tityos could outrun
The arrow as lightning leaping the heart of the quarry that won,
Which Artemis out of her quiver invincible sped, that man
Might be warned to grasp not at dalliance beyond our mortal span.”
So spake they each unto other, questioning, answering thus.
But now Cometh Pelias speeding with haste impetuous
His mules and his polished chariot—suddenly stayed he and stared
In amaze at the one foot sandalled of the man with the left foot bared,
The unmistakable token! Howbeit he hid in his heart
His dread, and he spake: “Thou stranger, say of what land thou art,
And what is thy fatherland tell me! What womb gave thee birth?
What giantess was thy mother of the ancient children of Earth?
Speak out! Of thy lineage tell us; and see that thou do not defile
Thy lips with words of feigning, with falsehoods loathsome-vile!”
But unafraid that stranger answering spake to the king
With unangry words: “The wisdom of Cheiron hither I bring:
From Chariklo and Philyra’s presence, from the cave of the shadows I come
Whom the Centaur’s stainless daughters reared in their mountain-home.
Years twice ten there I accomplished, and never deed or word
In truth or in honesty lacking in me have they seen or heard.
And hither I come returning to this the home of my race
To win me back the honour that in unforgotten days
Was my sire’s, which a godless usurper out of his hands hath torn,
The honour to Aiolus granted of Zeus, by his sons to be borne.
“For I hear how the lawless-hearted, one Pelias, lured astray
By the lusts of his envy, by violence snatched the sceptre away
From my father and mother, to whom it pertained by ancestral right,
These, dreading the tyrant’s outrage, so soon as I looked on the light,
As though for a new-dead dear one, made dusky-garbed lament,
And amid wild wailing of women the babe from the home they sent
Swaddled in purple swathings, by paths Night knew alone;
And to Cheiron they gave me to foster, to the Centaur, Kronos’ son.
“Now therefore of this my story the sum and the substance ye know;
And I pray you, O kindly burghers, to me do ye plainly show
The dwelling wherein my fathers, lords of white steeds, abode;
For the feet of a son of Aison shall surely not have trode
Upon alien soil in the homeland, the land I claim for mine!
Jason my name is: the Centaur named me with lips divine.”
Then his father’s eyes, as he entered the old home, knew him again,
And gushed from his aged eyelids the tears like summer rain;
For his spirit rejoiced within him when he beheld that son,
The chief est among ten thousand, the goodliest-moulded one.
And the brethren twain of the father came thither the son to greet,
So soon as they heard the tidings of his home-returning feet.
Not from afar came Pheres from Hypereia’s spring:
From Messene fared Amythaon: Admetus hastening
Thitherward came with Melampus, and greeted lovingly
Their kinsman. And while they feasted, with gracious courtesy
Did Jason commune with them ever, and he made them abundant cheer,
And he lengthened out all joyance of the hearts that held him dear:
For five long nights together, five days, did the hero abide
Still plucking the consecrated flowers of the festal tide.
But with earnest speech on the sixth day at last did Jason begin
To set forth from the beginning the whole tale unto his kin.
And these to his counsel consented: from the banqueting-couch straightway
With these he uprose; to the palace of Pelias on passed they.
And they hasted and stood there; and hearing them, came to meet the men
That son of Tyro the lovely-haired. Spake Jason then,
And of wise speech laid the foundation, with words of unangry tone
Soft-flowing: “Son of Poseidon the Cleaver of crag-piled stone,
“The spirits of men run swiftly, too swiftly they run on the path
Of the wages of treachery, rather than guerdons that justice hath;
Yet their lives glide on to the reckoning stern that for all doth remain.
But thee and me it behoveth by law our passions to rein,
And for days to come to be weaving the web of our well-being so.
One mother had our forefathers—this I would say dost thou know—
Rash-hearted Salmoneus and Kretheus; and we who in these days see
Helios’ majesty golden, of the third generation are we.
Now if there arise black hatred ’twixt mortals by blood akin.
Far off stand the Destiny-weavers, to see not the shame and the sin.
“Us twain it beseemeth in no wise with spear or with bronze-forged sword
To apportion the goodly honour of our fathers’ treasure-hoard;
Nor needeth it—lo, all sheep-flocks and tawny herds of kine
I yield unto thee, and the pastures and tilth-lands, still to be thine,
Whereof thou hast spoiled my parents, and ever art swelling thy store.
O yea, and it nowise vexeth my soul that of these evermore
Thou increasest thine house’s riches:—but the kingly sceptre and throne
Whereon the son of Kretheus sat in the days bygone,
And over a nation of horsemen ruled in equity,
Even these without malice between us yield unto him and to me,
“Lest out of it some new mischief should spring up.” Thus he spake.
And with words that peaceably sounded did Pelias answer make:
“I will be as thou wilt: but already is old age compassing
Mine head; but thy life is waxing in the fiower-tide of thy spring;
And strength is thine for appeasing the Powers of the world below;
For unto the halls of Aietes Phrixus biddeth us go
To lead homeward his spirit, and hither the fell thick-fleeced to bear
Of the Ram from the sea that saved him, from his stepdame’s impious snare.
“Such was the strange hest spoken by a voice in a dream that came.
And to Kastaly’s oracle also have I sent to enquire of the same,
Whether truly the quest should be ventured; and the oracle biddeth me
To make ready with speed a galley to bring these home oversea.
This emprise do thou accomplish of free will: then, when again
Thou comest, I swear to yield thee the throne thereon to reign.
And let Zeus himself be the witness, that the oath-pledge firm may be,
Zeus, the ancestral father of the race of thee and me.”
So in peace they parted, consenting that so should the covenant stand.
Then Jason sent heralds to publish the Quest through every land.
And lo, three sons of Kronion came at his call straightway:
No labour of battle could tire them, seed of the Highest they!
The one of Alkmena the star-eyed was born, and of Leda twain.
And there came two heroes with helmets tossing the stormy mane;
And these were the Earth-shaker’s scions, and honour was blent with their might.
Thither they journeyed from Pylos and Tainarus’ foreland-height.
Perfected so is the glory that thou, Euphemus, hast found,
And thine, Periklymenus, peerless in prowess far-renowned.
And, sped by Apollo thither, the master of harp-strings came,
The father of song, even Orpheus of unforgotten fame.
And of Hermes, the Lord of the Golden Sword, have two sons gone
To the toil wherefrom no respite was given, Echion the one,
And the other Eurytus, joying in the strength of life’s spring-day.
And swiftly came from their dwelling at the roots of Pangaius that lay
Zetes and Kalais: gladly their father Boreas, king
Of the Winds, arrayed them in pinions on their shoulders fluttering.
Hera it was that enkindled the yearning whose strong spell drew
All these demigod heroes to be of Argo’s crew,
That none by the side of his mother be left still drowsing on
In a sodden life unperilled, but, though through death it were won,
Along with the rest his compeers he should find in the land oversea
And drain the magic chalice of the glory of chivalry.
So came they, the flower of all shipmen, down to Iolkos’ shore;
And the tale of them all told Jason, and thanked them o’er and o’er.
And his helper Mopsus the prophet enquired the will of Heaven,
For he noted the tokens of bird-flight and hallowed lots that were given;
Then joyfully cried to them: “Get you aboard, for the hour is now!”
And they heaved and hung the anchor over the galley’s prow.
Then a golden bowl their chieftain took in his hands, and high
On the stern unto Zeus the Father of the Heavenly Ones did he cry,
Unto him whose lance is the lightning; to the rushing feet did he pray
Of the waves, and the wild wind-pinions, to speed them on their way;
To the nights and the great deep’s highways he prayed, that the days might be
Gracious, and kindly the fortune of the home-return oversea.
And a voice of thunder propitious out of the welkin crashed,
And dazzling gleams of lightning from the rifted cloud-walls flashed.
And the heroes breathed more lightly, their hearts with comfort glowed,
For they put their trust in the tokens that God from his heaven forth-showed.
And of hopes with fear unmingled the seer spake, while he bade
To smite with the oar the waters: the swiftly-flashing blade
Swung by their hands untiring over the sea sped on,
And the south-wind onward-wafting blew; and so they won
To the mouth of the Sea Unfriendly: there made they a holy place
To the Lord of the Deep; and a red-felled herd of the bulls of Thrace
Was there, and a new-built altar of stone with a basin therein.
And now, as they sped on, deeper they plunged into peril’s gin.
But they cried to the Lord of Shipmen to bring them safely through
The resistless rush of the Countering Rocks; for these were two,
And alive they were, and onward they rolled more fearful-fast
Than the thunderous-roaring battalions of winds; but death at the last
By the demigods’ voyage was dealt them. To Phasis then came they,
And there with the swart-faced Colchians they clashed in battle-play,
Yea, in the very presence of King Aietes. Then
The Queen of the Darts keen-piercing brought from Olympus to men
That dappled bird of the madness of love, the wryneck, and bound
Was the thing by the Lady of Cyprus on a wheel whirled ceaselessly round
From whose arms there was no escaping; and she was the first that brought
Unto earth that charm. And to Aison’s son the Goddess taught
The Suppliant’s Incantation, whose glamour should cause to depart
All reverent love of parents out of Medea’s heart,
That a longing for Hellas might lash her with Suasion’s whip, till afire
Was her soul. And she straightway taught him to achieve the tasks that her sire
Had appointed to him; for she blended in magical wise with oil
Strange drugs to anoint him, counter-spells for the fiery toil.
And therewithal these vowed them each unto other to be
Linked in the bands delightsome of spousal unity.
But when in the midst Aietes had set the adamant plough
And the bulls, which out of their glowing jaws were breathing now
The flame of a fire fierce-burning, as hoof after hoof of them stamped
On the shuddering ground, as with brazen feet they heavily tramped,
Then, unholpen of any, he led them to the yoke; straight furrows he drew,
And up from a trench of a fathom deep huge clods he threw.
Thereafter he cried his challenge: “This work now let your king,
Whosoe’er hath command of your galley, to its accomplishment bring,
“And so bear off for his guerdon the unperishing coverlet,
Even the Fleece with golden-gleaming tassels beset.”
As he spake it, his saffron mantle did Jason cast aside,
And trusting in God he grappled with the task, and the rushing tide
Of flame played on him unquailing, for magic wrapped him round
By the spells of the sorceress-stranger. He seized the plough, and he bound
The bulls’ necks fast in the harness, he stabbed each strong-ribbed frame
With the merciless goad; and so to the end of the set task came
That stalwart hero. Aietes, in amazement’s agony,
Beholding the might of the stranger, gasped a wordless cry.
Then to the strong-limbed hero, in token of love that they bare.
Stretched forth their hands his comrades, and crowned with garlands his hair,
And with loving praises they hailed him, and glad acclaiming shout.
Then straightway the wondrous scion of Helios pointed out
The place where the golden-gleaming Fleece was hung, wide-strained
By the falchion of Phrixus: he trusted the goal should ne’er be attained
Of that last toil by the stranger: in a tangled thicket it lay
In a ravening dragon’s warding whose jaw-teeth gripped it aye;
And in length and in breadth was he greater than a galley fifty-oared
Welded by iron mallets with blow upon blow down-poured.
Too long for me is the wheel-rutted track, for the sands run low
Of time; moreover a certain short bypath I know
Who am leader in song unto many. The serpent lurid-eyed,
Iridescent-scaled, by the magic spells of the hero died—
O Arkesilas;—and aided of Medea, he stole her, and fled
With her who was Pelias’ death-snare. Through Ocean’s deeps they sped
And the Red Sea; thence to the husband-slayers in Lemnos they came.
There strove they for guerdons of raiment in many an athlete-game,
And they couched with the women: in alien furrows there did they sow
By night or by day the fateful seed of the bright sun-glow
Of your line’s fair fortune. Planted there was Euphemus’ race,
Destined to fadeless increase through ever-during days.
In the homesteads of Lacedaemon the wanderers tarried awhile;
In Thera thereafter abode they, once named Kalliste’s Isle.
Thence was it the Son of Leto led your sires oversea,
And gave them the plains of Libya, to bring prosperity
To the land by god-given honours, and to rule o’er the hallowed town
Of golden-throned Kyrene, the Nymph of old renown,
Having devised for it counsel that ruleth in righteousness aye.
Now learn thou of Oedipus’ wisdom:—“If one should shear away
With the axe keen-cleaving the branches of a stately oak, and bring
To shame its glorious beauty, even in the perishing
Of its fruitage, it still giveth token of that which it was of old,
Yea, though it should come to the hearth-fire at last in the winter’s cold,
Or whether, a great beam resting athwart the columns tall
That bear the weight of the rafters of a proud lord’s feasting-hall,
It doeth slavish service walled in ’twixt roof and floor,
And the place that knew it aforetime shall know it again no more.”
A physician thou art most timely; the light that from thee doth pour
The Healer-god honours. For tending a deeply festering sore
One needeth a hand most gentle. The weakest fool may shake
A state to its very foundations; but hard is the struggle to make
It again in its place stand firmly, unless God hasten to be
Unto its rulers a pilot o’er discord’s stormy sea.
But for thee is the vesture woven of such fair fortune. Be strong
In thy striving to stablish Kyrene in weal to continue long;
And of Homer’s sayings ponder thou this with diligent heed:—
“A prudent messenger bringeth,” he saith, “unto every deed
Honour exceeding goodly.” By a message rightly told
The Muse herself is exalted. Now Kyrene knoweth of old,
And the world-famed hall of Battus knoweth, how righteously
Demophilus ruled his spirit: a youth mid the youths was he
In years, albeit in counsel was he as an elder of days,
Yea, as one that through years a hundred hath run life’s weary race.
He silenceth slander; her blatant tongue is loud no more;
And insolence overweening hath he throughly learned to abhor:
He contendeth not with the noble; he lingereth no long space
In bringing a work to fulfilment;—for Opportunity stays
By a man but a fleeting moment: well is it marked of him still
How it waiteth on him as a helper, not as the slave of his will.
Of all gifts this is the saddest, to know what is best for man,
And yet that Fate the tyrant thy winning thereto should ban.
Ay, Atlas still stands straining beneath heaven’s crushing load,
From all his possessions exiled, from his ancestral abode.
Yet by Zeus ever-living the Titans were unchained; and as on time fleets,
With the lulling and veering of breezes may the shipmen shift the sheets.
And this thy banished one prayeth that, now that his cup of pain
Hath been drained to the dregs, he may look on the home of his youth again,
May have part by Apollo’s fountain in the feast, may yield his heart
To the joyance of youth, and mid burghers wise in the minstrel’s art
May hold in his hands the cithern cunningly carved, and to peace
May attain, doing hurt unto no man, and injured by none of these;
And shall tell how fair a fountain of song immortal he found
For Arkesilas, late welcomed by a friend on Theban ground.