When, a child, he thought as a child, in the cave ’neath Ida’s height.
A ball fair-rounded it is: no goodlier toy, I wot,
Couldst thou get thee mid all the marvels by hands of Hephaistus wrought.
Of gold be the zones of it fashioned; and round each several one
Twofold be the seams of broidery-thread that encircling run.
But the stitches thereof be hidden: there coileth around them all
A spiral of blue. From thine hand if thou cast it on high, that ball
Even as a star shall flash through the air in a fiery glow.
This will I give thee—but thou must bewitch with a shaft from thy bow
Aiêtes’ daughter with love for Jason. But see that herein
Thou tarry not; else a meaner requital than this shalt thou win.”
So spake she, and welcome the word was; with gladness he heard that thing:
And he cast away those toys, and with eager hands did he cling
Clasping the Goddess’s raiment about on either side.
And he pleaded with her even then to bestow it: but Kypris replied
With gentle words—and his cheeks unto hers she drew the while,
And clasping him close she kissed him, and answer she made with a smile:
“Be witness now thy beloved head, yea, also mine,
That I will not defraud thee: indeed and in truth the gift shall be thine,
When the heart of Aiêtes’ daughter is pierced by thine arrow divine.”
Then gathered he up his dice, and the tale of them heedfully told,
And he cast them into his mother’s glistering bosom-fold.
By his baldric of gold he slung from his shoulder the quiver that leant
On a tree-trunk, and took the bow for sorrow of mortals bent.
From the fruitful orchard of Zeus’s palace forth did he fare,
And thereafter came to Olympus’ portals high in air.
Thence is a sheer-descending path from the height of the sky;
And there the Poles, twin mountains, uplift their heads on high,
Precipice-steeps, earth’s loftiest-towering crests, whereon
With his earliest rays at the dawning uplifted resteth the sun.
Far under, the life-sustaining earth and the cities slept
Of men, and the sacred rivers; anon before him upleapt
Hill-peaks, and outspread the sea, through the wide air on as he swept.
Now the heroes apart on the thwarts of their galley in ambush yet,
Where the backwater gleamed of the river, for taking of counsel were met:
And the son of Aison himself was speaking, and all they heard,
As row upon row in their places they sat, and none spake word:
“O friends, of a truth the thing that seemeth good in mine eyes,
That will I utter; howbeit with you the fulfilment lies.
This Quest all share, and in counsel and speech all ye have part.
Whosoever in silence withholdeth his rede and the thoughts of his heart,
Let him know, he only bereaveth of home-return our Quest.
Now I counsel that ye by the ship with your war-gear abide at rest.
But I, even I, will go forth first to Aiêtes’ hall.
I will take but the sons of Phrixus, and twain of the rest therewithal.
And I, when I meet him, with words will first make trial, to know
If he haply for lovingkindness the Fleece of Gold will bestow,
Or will grant it not, but in pride of his might will set us at naught.
For so, when the lesson of evil first by himself hath been taught,
Shall we then advise us, whether the ordeal of battle to try,
Or if other device shall avail us, refraining the onset-cry.
But let us not rashly, or ever persuasion be put to the test,
Despoil this man of his own possession:—nay, it were best
To come before him, and first with speech his grace to win:—
Yea, oft fair speech hath prevailed in a matter, and lightly—wherein
Little had prowess availed—for that winsomely it stole
On the heart: yea hereby Phrixus wrought on the grim king’s soul,
When a stepdame’s guile and the sacrifice-stroke of a father he fled,
To receive him: in no man’s breast is shame so utterly dead,
But he honoureth Guest-ward Zeus, and regardeth his ordinance dread.”
Then praised they with one accord the counsel of Aison’s seed,
Nor did any man turn therefrom, to utter another rede.
Then called he on Phrixus’ children to follow, and chose of his band
Telamon and Augeias; moreover himself took Hermes’ wand.
Forthright from the ship over water and reed-fringed river-side
Passed they, and out beyond o’er the swell of the plain they hied.
The Plain Kirkaian, I wot, is it called, and, row upon row,
Willows and osiers there exceeding many grow.
Mid their topmost branches cord-bound corpses be hanging there;
For to Kolchians unto this day an abomination it were
To burn on the pyre their men which have died; nor yet in the ground
Is their wont to lay them, and heap thereover the token-mound.
But in hides untanned of oxen they roll them, and hang midst trees
Without the city. Yet earth hath equal share in these
With the air; for in graves of the earth be they wont their women to lay.
Lo, this is their custom, and this their ordinance for aye.
Now, anigh as they drew, did Hêrê with loving thought for the men
Spread thick mist all through the city, that so they might ’scape the ken
Of the thousands there, to Aiêtes’ hall while fared they on.
And when from the plain to Aiêtes’ city and palace they won,
Then straightway Hêrê scattered again that cloudy haze.
At the entrance they stood, and they looked on the courts of the king in amaze,
On the gateways wide, and the columns that all around the walls
In ordered lines uprose; and high on the roofs of the halls
Did a coping of stone upon rows of brazen triglyphs lie.
And over the threshold in peace they went. And hard thereby
Were garden-vines in fullness of blossom, mantled o’er
With green leaves, high uplifted in air. And fountains four
Ever-flowing beneath them ran, which were delved with magic spell
By Hephaistus, the one whereof did with gushing of milk upwell,
And the second with wine, and the third with incense-breathing oil.
And with water the fourth ran; steaming for heat did the same upboil
At the setting-tide of the Pleiads; but out of its rock-hewn cave
Cold even as ice in their rising-season
