With an awful voice, and thundered the welkin wide all round.
And out of the caverns under the rugged cliffs the sound
Of a hollow rumbling came, as the sea surged inward; and high
O’er the cliffs from the dashing waves did the spurts of the white foam fly.
The ship broached-to in the wave-rush: shorn by the rocks was the tip
Of the dove’s tail-feathers; but onward she flew, by the death-gin’s grip
Unscathed. Loud shouted the oarsmen; and Tiphys cried to them then
To row with their might, for the crags were parting asunder again.
But for trembling they faltered in rowing, until the indraught caught
The ship in the strength of its sweep back-swinging; and lo, they were brought
Betwixt those rocks. Then fell upon all most ghastly dread,
For destruction that none could escape was hanging above each head.
Even now through the gap wide Pontus to right and to left was beheld:
But all unawares at their bows a mighty surge upswelled
Overbowed like a precipice-frown; and they saw as the green arch gleamed,
And with cowering heads did they shut their eyes—to their souls it seemed
That down on the ship’s whole length it would leap, and overwhelm;
But, while yet to the rowing she laboured, did Tiphys’ touch on the helm
Ease her, and under the keel hath it rolled, as leapt the prow:
High hath it lifted the stern, and afar hath it swept her now
From the rocks, and the galley ’twixt earth and heaven was tossed on high.
But Euphêmus strode down the line of the rowers with cheering cry
To bend to the oars with their uttermost might: and they tore through the deep
The blades with a shout. And far as a ship to the stroke will leap,
Even twice so far leapt Argo away, and the tough oars bent
Like bended bows, such might to the stroke the heroes lent.
On-rushing, up-towering, a breaker came, overarched like a cave;
But suddenly light as a roller she rode the furious wave.
Forward through yawning gulfs she plunged; but caught was her prow
By a whirlpool sea-rush betwixt the Clashers:—on each side now
Swaying forward they thundered, and shivered the hull to the coming shock.
Then did Athênê backward thrust one massy rock
With her left hand, touching their bark with her right to speed her through;
On, like a wingèd arrow ’twixt billow and air she flew.
Yet shorn away was the tip of the galley’s arching stern
By the rocks in their clash never-resting. Then did Athênê return
Far up to Olympus soaring, when now their peril was past.
But the Crags in the selfsame place that moment were rooted fast
Each hard against other for ever, as fated they were to remain
By the Blest, when a man in his ship should have passed therethrough unslain.
And now for the first from dismay blood-curdling did those breathe free,
Now gazing around on the sky, now o’er the expanse of sea
Far stretching away; for they weened that from Hades safe they had fled.
Then first of them Tiphys brake that awe-struck hush, and he said:
“Now I deem we have ’scaped it, we and the Argo, in very deed:
And herein none other, save only Athênê, hath helped us at need,
Who breathed into Argo spirit divine, when Argus the wright
Knit her with bolts, that she could not be trapped in doom’s despite.
O Aison’s son, for the hest of thy king no more fear thou,
Since a God hath vouchsafed unto us to flee all scatheless now
Through yonder rocks: yea, all thy toils which are yet to be done
Shall lightly be compassed, as Phineus foretold, Agênor’s son.”
So spake he; and forward past the Bithynian land he sped
The ship right on through the midst of the sea. But Jason said—
And sad was his voice and low as he answered the hero-chief:—
“Ah, Tiphys, to what end thus wouldst thou hearten me in my grief?
I have sinned: with baneful and cureless madness have I transgressed.
For I ought, in the very hour when Pelias uttered his hest,
To have straightway refused this Quest, yea, though I were doomed to die
By the hands of tormentors, limb from limb hewn pitilessly.
But exceeding dread and cares unendurable now be mine,
With haunting fear as I sail the sea’s chill paths of brine
In the ship, and with haunting fear wheresoever we set our feet
On the land, for that foes evermore on every shore do we meet.
And ever, when past is the day, through a night of sighs I wake,
Even from the hour when first ye gathered for Jason’s sake,
For all things aye taking thought. With a light heart cheerily
Thou speak’st, who for nought but thine own life needest to care; but I
For mine own care never a jot; but for this man and that man’s bane,
And for thee, and for other my comrades I bear this burden of pain,
Lest haply never I bring you alive unto Hellas again.”
So spake he, trying the heroes’ souls; but with words of cheer
Shouted they: glowed his heart that gallant chiding to hear.
And again he uplifted his voice, and he hailed that hero-crew:
“O friends, your manful spirit hath quickened my courage anew.
Wherefore, not though through abysses of Hades my way should be,
Will I suffer that dread shall lay hold on my soul, so steadfast do ye
Abide amid heart-wringing terror—yea, seeing that now through the strait
Of the Clashing Rocks we have sailed, I trow there lieth in wait
No terror hereafter like unto this, if in truth we obey
The counsel of Phineus the seer, as we track the printless way.”
So spake he; from words of misgiving their lips thenceforth they refrained:
But they fell to the ceaseless labour of rowing; and quickly they gained
Rheba the swift-flowing river: Kotône’s height they descried,
And shortly thereafter past the Headland Dark did they glide.
Thereby was Phyllêis’ outfall, where in the days bygone
In the halls of his palace Dipsakus welcomed Athamas’ son,
What time from Orchomenus-city he fled, on the winged ram borne.
A Nymph of the Mead was his mother: the tyrant’s arrogant scorn
He loathed, but contented beside his father’s streams dwelt he
With his mother, and pastured his sheep in the meadows beside the sea.
And quickly they sighted his shrine, and the broad low banks of the
