For thy sake. Yea, and the folk which in this same land abide
Be eager to help Absyrtus, that back again to the hall
Of thy sire he may hale thee like to a captive battle-thrall.
Howbeit should we in hateful destruction all be slain
If we closed in the fight with these; and therein were bitterer pain,
If we leave thee a prey no less unto these, and withal we die.
But now shall this covenant find us a path of guile, whereby
To destroy him. The folk of the land shall not be fain as before
To favour the Kolchians in thee, when their king shall be with them no more,
He who forsooth as thy champion and brother doth claim thee to-day.
Yea also, I will not refrain me from matching my might in the fray
With the Kolchian men, if then they bar mine homeward way.”
For her comfort he spake; but with deadly words did she make reply:
“Give heed now:—it needs must be, when peril and shame are nigh,
That we likewise counsel thereafter. Distraught I was at the first
In mine error, and god-misguided accomplished desires accurst.
Do thou be my shield from the Kolchian spears in the toil of the strife,
And I will beguile this man to lay in thine hands his life.
He shall come: and with dazzling gifts of welcoming win thou his heart,
If I haply persuade the heralds to hold themselves apart,
And draw him alone unto me to hearken the thing I would say.
Then thou, if this deed be good in thy sight—I say not nay—
Slay him, and meet thereafter the Kolchian men in the fray.”
Even so these twain consented, and twined the net of guile
For Absyrtus; and many a gift of welcome prepared they the while.
And with these a sacred mantle, a woven crimson flame,
Gave they, Hypsipylê’s gift. The Graces had fashioned the same
For the God Dionysus in sea-girt Dia; and he on his son,
Thoas, bestowed it; and this at his fleeing Hypsipylê won.
And, with many a lovely marvel, that parting-gift wrought fair
She gave unto Aison’s son. Thine hands would linger there
Touching, thine eyes beholding, ever unsatisfied.
And a scent ambrosial breathed therefrom, since that sweet tide
When the King Nysaian himself thereon lay down to rest,
With wine and with nectar flushed, lay clasping the beauteous breast
Of the maiden the daughter of Minos, who sailed from the Knossian land
With Theseus, and there was forsaken of him upon Dia’s strand.
And Medea wrought on the heralds—for subtlest speech did she frame
To beguile them—when unto the Goddess’s temple Absyrtus came
For the covenant’s sake, and when night’s black pall should around them be rolled,
To depart, that with him she might plot to take that Fleece of Gold
From the heroes, and bearing the prize with him to fare again
To Aiêtes’ halls, for that Phrixus’ sons by force had ta’en
And had given her unto the strangers a captive to bear overseas.
Even so she beguiled them; and wide through the air and afar on the breeze
Cast she her witchery-spells, of might to draw from his lair
On the trackless mountain the wild beast, lurk he how distant soe’er.
Ah, ruthless Love, great grief, great curse to the sons of earth!
Of thee fell feuds, and anguish-moans, and laments have birth;
From thee therewithal unnumbered woes as a flood forth burst.
’Gainst the sons of our foes, thou god, array thee battle-athirst,
As when thou didst thrill the heart of Medea with madness accurst!
But how, when to meet her he came, by an evil doom did she quell
Absyrtus?—for this thing next must the song in order tell.
When the heroes had left the maiden on Artemis’ island-strand
By the covenant, ran they their ships in a several place aland,
Even Kolchians and Minyans. Then to his ambush did Jason hie,
For Absyrtus to lie in wait, and for them of his company.
And now that hero, deathward-beguiled by their promise dread,
Over the swell of the sea in his galley swiftly sped,
And under the mirk night stepped on the Isle of the Holy Place,
And alone fared onward to meet his sister face to face,
And to try her with words—as though some tender child should try
A wintertide torrent, when strong men may not cross thereby!—
If perchance she would weave him a treachery-snare for the stranger-crew.
And now were they making agreement for all these things, they two,
When suddenly out of the gloom of his ambush the Aisonid leapt
Uplifting his naked sword in his hand: and the maiden swept
Her veil o’er her eyes, as she turned them away for averting of guilt
That she might not behold the blood of her slaughtered brother spilt,
And him, as a flesher felleth a strong-horned bull, even so
Did he mark him, and smite him, hard by the fane which long ago
The Brygians which dwelt on the mainland-shore unto Artemis wrought.
In the porchway thereof on his knees he fell; and the hero caught
In his hands, as he gasped his latest breath, the dark-red tide
As it welled from the gash, and he hurled that murder-rain, that it dyed
Crimson her silver veil and her robe, as she shrank aside.
And with swift side-glance the all-quelling Vengeance-fiend espied,
And her pitiless eye beheld that murderous deed they had done.
But the ends of the dead man’s limbs then severed Aison’s son:
Thrice licked he the blood from the sod, thrice spat it again to the dust,
As the slayer must do that atonement be made for the treachery-thrust.
Then hid he the clammy corpse in the ground, where unto this day
In the land of Absyrtan men be those bones lapped in clay.
Now the heroes the while gazed forth through the night, and beheld where shone
The glare of a torch which the maiden upraised for a sign to set on;
And alongside the Kolchian galley they laid their ship straightway,
And they slaughtered the crew of the Kolchians, even as wild hawks slay
The tribes of the woodland cushats, or lions of the wold
Drive huddled a mighty flock, when they leap to the midst of the fold.
No, of them all was there none that escaped, but on all that throng
Even as flame making havoc they rushed; and it
