The Argonautica
Thus he spake, and his words were welcome to Jason’s ear. And he arose
from his bed with joy and woke all his comrades hurriedly and told them
the prophecy of Mopsus the son of Ampycus. And quickly the younger men
drove oxen from their stalls and began to lead them to the mountain’s
lofty summit. And they loosed the hawsers from the sacred rock and
rowed to the Thracian harbour; and the heroes climbed the mountain,
leaving a few of their comrades in the ship. And to them the Macrian
heights and all the coast of Thrace opposite appeared to view close at
hand. And there appeared the misty mouth of Bosporus and the Mysian
hills; and on the other side the stream of the river Aesepus and the
city and Nepeian plain of Adrasteia. Now there was a sturdy stump of
vine that grew in the forest, a tree exceeding old; this they cut down,
to be the sacred image of the mountain goddess; and Argus smoothed it
skilfully, and they set it upon that rugged hill beneath a canopy of
lofty oaks, which of all trees have their roots deepest. And near it
they heaped an altar of small stones, and wreathed their brows with oak
leaves and paid heed to sacrifice, invoking the mother of Dindymum,
most venerable, dweller in Phrygia, and Titias and Cyllenus, who alone
of many are called dispensers of doom and assessors of the Idaean
mother,—the Idaean Dactyls of Crete, whom once the nymph Anchiale, as
she grasped with both hands the land of Oaxus, bare in the Dictaean
cave. And with many prayers did Aeson’s son beseech the goddess to turn
aside the stormy blasts as he poured libations on the blazing
sacrifice; and at the same time by command of Orpheus the youths trod a
measure dancing in full armour, and clashed with their swords on their
shields, so that the ill-omened cry might be lost in the air the wail
which the people were still sending up in grief for their king. Hence
from that time forward the Phrygians propitiate Rhea with the wheel and
the drum. And the gracious goddess, I ween, inclined her heart to pious
sacrifices; and favourable signs appeared. The trees shed abundant
fruit, and round their feet the earth of its own accord put forth
flowers from the tender grass. And the beasts of the wild wood left
their lairs and thickets and came up fawning on them with their tails.
And she caused yet another marvel; for hitherto there was no flow of
water on Dindymum, but then for them an unceasing stream gushed forth
from the thirsty peak just as it was, and the dwellers around in after
times called that stream, the spring of Jason. And then they made a
feast in honour of the goddess on the Mount of Bears, singing the
praises of Rhea most venerable; but at dawn the winds had ceased and
they rowed away from the island.
Thereupon a spirit of contention stirred each chieftain, who should be
the last to leave his oar. For all around the windless air smoothed the
swirling waves and lulled the sea to rest. And they, trusting in the
calm, mightily drove the ship forward; and as she sped through the salt
sea, not even the storm-footed steeds of Poseidon would have overtaken
her. Nevertheless when the sea was stirred by violent blasts which were
just rising from the rivers about evening, forspent with toil, they
ceased. But Heracles by the might of his arms pulled the weary rowers
along all together, and made the strong-knit timbers of the ship to
quiver. But when, eager to reach the Mysian mainland, they passed along
in sight of the mouth of Rhyndaeus and the great cairn of Aegaeon, a
little way from Phrygia, then Heracles, as he ploughed up the furrows
of the roughened surge, broke his oar in the middle. And one half he
held in both his hands as he fell sideways, the other the sea swept
away with its receding wave. And he sat up in silence glaring round;
for his hands were unaccustomed to be idle.
Now at the hour when from the field some delver or ploughman goes
gladly home to his hut, longing for his evening meal, and there on the
threshold, all squalid with dust, bows his wearied knees, and,
beholding his hands worn with toil, with many a curse reviles his
belly; at that hour the heroes reached the homes of the Cianian land
near the Arganthonian mount and the outfall of Cius. Them as they came
in friendliness, the Mysians, inhabitants of that land, hospitably
welcomed, and gave them in their need provisions and sheep and abundant
wine. Hereupon some brought dried wood, others from the meadows leaves
for beds which they gathered in abundance for strewing, whilst others
were twirling sticks to get fire; others again were mixing wine in the
bowl and making ready the feast, after sacrificing at nightfall to
Apollo Ecbasius.
But the son of Zeus having duly enjoined on his comrades to prepare the
feast took his way into a wood, that he might first fashion for himself
an oar to fit his hand. Wandering about he found a pine not burdened
with many branches, nor too full of leaves, but like to the shaft of a
tall poplar; so great was it both in length and thickness to look at.
And quickly he laid on the ground his arrow-holding quiver together
with his bow, and took off his lion’s skin. And he loosened the pine
from the ground with his bronze-tipped club and grasped the trunk with
both hands at the bottom, relying on his strength; and he pressed it
against his broad shoulder with legs wide apart; and clinging close he
raised it from the ground deep-rooted though it was, together with
clods of earth. And as when unexpectedly, just at the time of the
stormy setting of baleful Orion, a swift gust of wind strikes down from
above, and wrenches a ship’s mast from its stays, wedges and all; so
did Heracles lift the pine. And at the same time he took up his bow and
arrows, his lion skin and club, and started on his return.
Meantime Hylas with pitcher of bronze in hand had gone apart from the
throng, seeking the sacred flow of a fountain, that he might be quick
in drawing water for the evening meal and actively make all things
ready in due order against his lord’s return. For in such ways did
Heracles nurture him from his first childhood when he had carried him
off from the house of his father, goodly Theiodamas, whom the hero
pitilessly slew among the Dryopians because he withstood him about an
ox for the plough. Theiodamas was cleaving with his plough the soil of
fallow land when he was smitten with the curse; and Heracles bade him
give up the ploughing ox against his will. For he desired to find some
pretext for war against the Dryopians for their bane, since they dwelt
there reckless of right. But these tales would lead me far astray from
my song. And quickly Hylas came to the spring which the people who
dwell thereabouts call Pegae. And the dances of the nymphs were just
now being held there; for it was the care of all the nymphs that
haunted that lovely headland ever to hymn Artemis in songs by night.
All who held the mountain peaks or glens, all they were ranged far off
guarding the woods; but one, a water-nymph was just rising from the
fair-flowing spring; and the boy she perceived close at hand with the
rosy flush of his beauty and sweet grace. For the full moon beaming
from the sky smote him. And Cypris made her heart faint, and in her
confusion she could scarcely gather her spirit back to her. But as soon
as he dipped the pitcher in the stream, leaning to one side, and the
brimming water rang loud as it poured against the sounding bronze,
straightway she laid her left arm above upon his neck yearning to kiss
his tender mouth; and with her right hand she drew down his elbow, and
plunged him into the midst of the eddy.
Alone of his comrades the hero Polyphemus, son of Eilatus, as he went
forward on the path, heard the boy’s cry, for he expected the return of
mighty Heracles. And he rushed after the cry, near Pegae, like some
beast of the wild wood whom the bleating of sheep has reached from
afar, and burning with hunger he follows, but does not fall in with the
flocks; for the shepherds beforehand have penned them in the fold, but
he groans and roars vehemently until he is weary. Thus vehemently at
that time did the son of Eilatus groan and wandered shouting round the
spot; and his voice rang piteous. Then quickly drawing his great sword
he started in pursuit, in fear lest the boy should be the prey of wild
beasts, or men should have lain in ambush for him faring all alone, and
be carrying him off, an easy prey. Hereupon as he brandished his bare
sword in his hand he met Heracles himself on the path, and well he knew
him as he hastened to the ship through the darkness. And straightway he
told the wretched calamity while his heart laboured with his panting
breath.
“My poor friend, I shall be the first to bring thee tidings of bitter
woe. Hylas has gone to the well and has not returned safe, but robbers
have attacked and are carrying him off, or beasts are tearing him to
pieces; I heard his cry.”
Thus he spake; and when Heracles heard his words, sweat in abundance
poured down from his temples and the black blood boiled beneath his
heart. And in wrath he hurled the pine to the ground and hurried along
the path whither his feet bore on his impetuous soul. And as when a
bull stung by a gadfly tears along, leaving the meadows and the marsh
land, and recks not of herdsmen or herd, but presses on, now without
cheek, now standing still, and raising his broad neck he bellows
loudly, stung by the maddening fly; so he in his frenzy now would ply
his swift knees unresting, now again would cease from toil and shout
afar with loud pealing cry.
But straightway the morning star rose above the topmost peaks and the
breeze swept down; and quickly did Tiphys urge them to go aboard and
avail themselves of the wind. And they embarked eagerly forthwith; and
they drew up the ship’s anchors and hauled the ropes astern. And the
sails were bellied out by the wind, and far from the coast were they
joyfully borne past the Posideian headland. But at the hour when
gladsome dawn shines from heaven, rising from the east, and the paths
stand out clearly, and the dewy plains shine with a bright gleam, then
at length they were aware that unwittingly they had abandoned those
men. And a fierce quarrel fell upon them, and violent tumult, for that
they had sailed and left behind the bravest of their comrades. And
Aeson’s son, bewildered by their hapless plight, said never a word,
good or bad; but sat with his heavy load of grief, eating out his
heart. And wrath seized Telamon, and thus he spake:
“Sit there at thy ease, for it was fitting for thee to leave Heracles
behind; from thee the project arose, so that his glory throughout
Hellas should not overshadow thee, if so be that heaven grants us a
return home. But what pleasure is there in words? For I will go, I
only, with none of thy comrades, who have helped thee to plan this
treachery.”
He spake, and rushed upon Tiphys son of Hagnias; and his eyes sparkled
like flashes of ravening flame. And they would quickly have turned back
to the land of the Mysians, forcing their way through the deep sea and
the unceasing blasts of the wind, had not the two sons of Thracian
Boreas held back the son of Aeacus with harsh words. Hapless ones,
assuredly a bitter vengeance came upon them thereafter at the hands of
Heracles, because they stayed the search for him. For when they were
returning from the games over Pelias dead he slew them in sea-girt
Tenos and heaped the earth round them, and placed two columns above,
one of which, a great marvel for men to see, moves at the breath of the
blustering north wind. These things were thus to be accomplished in
after times. But to them appeared Glaucus from the depths of the sea,
the wise interpreter of divine Nereus, and raising aloft his shaggy