With his spines, which parted below into fins outcurving wide
In fashion like to the horns of the moon when the month is new.
Onward he drave her, till sped from the thrust of his hand she flew
To the sea: then sank he mid fathomless depths, and the heroes all
Shouted, whose eyes beheld that awesome marvel befall.
There is the haven of Argo, and there are the signs of her stay:
There stand to Poseidon and Triton altars unto this day;
Forasmuch as for that day tarried they there. But with sail outspread
At the dawning again before the West-wind’s breath they fled.
And ever they kept the while that desert land to the right.
On the morning thereafter the ness they beheld, and the long sea-bight
Inland-trending beyond that seaward-jutting ness.
Then straightway the West-wind failed them, but blew the breath no less
Of the cloudless South; and their hearts rejoiced, in the sail as it sighed.
And the sun went down, and uprose the star of the folding-tide,
Which bringeth from labour rest unto ploughmen toil-fordone.
Even then, when the wind died down as the darkling night drew on,
Furled they the idle sail, and the mast exceeding tall
They lowered, and now to the toil of the polished oar did they fall
All through the night and the day, and, when failed the light of the day,
Through the night thereafter, till rugged Karpathos far away
Welcomed them: thence did they shape their course unto where rose high
Crete above all the rest of the isles in the sea which lie.
There Talos, the man of brass, from the stubborn scaur as he tore
Rock-shards, withstood them from making the hawsers fast to the shore,
When came to the roadstead of Dirkê’s haven the sea-worn ones.
Now he was the last of the brazen stock of the Ash-tree’s sons:
In the days of the Sons of the Gods none other on earth abode.
Him on Europa to guard her island Kronion bestowed;
And thrice round Crete each day with his brazen feet he strode.
Now in all the rest of his body and limbs was he fashioned of brass
Which might not be broken: howbeit a blood-red vein there was
By his ankle beneath the sinew, and guarded therewithin
Were the issues of life and of death by nought save a film of skin.
And the men were with travail outworn, yet aloof from the land drew they
Their ship with the backward sweep of the oars, in exceeding dismay.
To the outsea now from Crete had they turned them in plight forlorn,
Tormented with thirst, and by all their travail-pain outworn;
But, even as they turned them, Medea spake to the hero-crew:
“Hear me: alone, I ween, can I for your helping subdue
Yon man, whosoever he be, though fashioned of brass all through
Be his body, except he have life everlasting added thereto.
But consent ye to keep hereby your galley beyond the flight
Of his stones, till he yield unto me his overmastered might.”
Then backed they the galley, beyond the cast of his arm, to rest
On the oars; and they waited to see what counsel, of all unguessed,
She would bring to pass. Then on either side of her cheeks did she hold
For a veil before her face her purple mantle’s fold.
Then up to the deck she went, and her hand did Aison’s son
Grasp in his own, and from thwart to thwart so led her on.
And the spell-chant raised she: the Fates with singing invoked she there,
Devourers of souls, swift hounds of Hades, through all the air
Which be hovering ever, and swoop on the doomed the living among.
Bowing the knee unto these three times she invoked them with song,
And thrice with prayer; and with soul unto mischief shapen she cast
The glance of the evil eye upon Talos, his vision to blast.
And her teeth gnashed fury accursèd upon him, the arms of her waved
Beckonings of doom, as of one that in frenzy of hatred raved.
Zeus Father, awe as a wind on my spirit bloweth chill,
Seeing how by disease not alone, nor by wounds, the doom of ill
Meeteth us, yea, how one from afar shall work our bane!
Even as he, though brazen, yielded yet to be slain
By the might of Medea the sorceress. Then, as he heaved on high
The massy rocks to withstand them from coming the haven anigh,
On a spur of the crag did he graze his heel, and the ichor-flood
Like melting lead gushed forth: nor long thereafter he stood
Towering up on the rock out-jutting that frowned o’er the brine.
But, even as high on the mountain side a giant pine—
Which the woodmen have left, when adown from the forest at even they hie,
With the keen axe half hewn through—as the winds of the night pass by,
Shivereth first in the blast, and swayeth; but, snapt ere long
At the stump, down falleth; so he on his feet all tireless-strong
For a little space yet stood, yet swayed he to and fro.
Thereafter all strengthless fell with a mighty crash their foe.
For that night there on the shore of Crete did the heroes lie;
But thereafter, so soon as the glow of the dawn overflushed the sky,
A fane to Athênê Minôïs builded they thereby.
Then water they drew them, and hied them aboard, that with oars swift-sped
Before all else they might pass beyond Salmônê’s Head.
But even as they ran over Crete’s wide sea, all suddenly came
A horror of darkness on them, which the Pall of Blackness they name,
The Night of Destruction. No stars shone through it, no faint ray gleamed
Of the moon: black chaos from heaven descended, or haply upstreamed
Darkness that might be felt from the depths of the nethermost hell.
And whether through Hades they drifted, or heaved on the waters’ swell,
Nowise they knew; but unto the sea in helpless despair
They committed their home-return, to bear as it would. But in prayer
Cried Jason with mighty voice, and to Phoebus his hands did he raise,
Calling on him to save them, the while the tears ran down his face
In his trouble. To Pytho and Amyklae promised he once and again
Offerings unnumbered to bear, and gifts to Ortygia’s fane.
And thou, O Lêto’s son, wast swift to hear: from on high
Unto
