“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