So when they beheld the Argo’s oars flashing down to their coast,
Forth from the gates of Myrinê straightway in one great host
Clad in their harness of battle down to the beach they poured
Like unto ravening Thyiads: they weened that the Thracian horde
Were come: and there was Hypsipylê clad in the war-array
Of Thoas her father: and all these speechless with wildered dismay
Streamed down—such panic was wafted about them all that day.
But forth of the galley the while had the chieftains sent to the shore
Aithalides, their herald swift, the man who bore
Charge of their messages, yea, and the wand they committed to him
Of Hermes his sire, who had given him memory never made dim
Of all things:—yea, nor forgetfulness swept even now o’er his soul
Of long-left Acheron’s flow, where the torrents unspeakable roll.
For the doom of his spirit is fixed, to and fro evermore is it swept,
Now numbered with ghosts underground, now back to the light hath it leapt,
To the beams of the sun among living men:—but why should I tell
The story of Aithalides that all men know full well?
Of him was Hypsipylê won to receive that sea-borne array
As waned the day to the gloaming: yet not with the new-born day
Unmoored they the ship for the North-wind’s breathing to waft away.
Through the city the daughters of Lemnos into the folkmote pressed,
And there sat down, as Hypsipylê’s self sent forth her behest.
So when they were gathered in one great throng to the market-stead,
For their counselling straightway she rose in the midst of them all, and she said:
“Friends, now, an ye will, good store of gifts to the men give we,
Even such as is meet that the farers a-shipboard should bear oversea,
Even meats and the sweet strong wine, that without our towers so
They may bide, nor for need’s sake passing amidst of us to and fro
May know of us all too well, and our evil report shall go
Afar, for a terrible deed have we wrought, and in no wise, I trow,
Good in their sight shall it seem, if they haply shall hear the tale.
Lo, this is our counsel, and this, meseemeth, best shall avail.
But if any amidst you hath counsel that better shall serve our need
Let her rise; for to this have I summoned you, even the giving of rede.”
So spake she, and sat her down on the ancient chair of stone
That of old was her sire’s, and Polyxo her nurse uprose thereupon.
On her wrinkle-shrivelled feet she halted for very eld
Bowed over a staff; but with longing for speech the heart in her swelled.
And hard by her side were there sitting ancient maidens four,
Virgins, whose heads with the thin white hair were silvered o’er.
And amidst of the folkmote stood she, and up from her crook-bowed back
Feebly a little she lifted her neck, and in this wise spake:
“Gifts, even as unto the lady Hypsipylê seemeth meet,
Send we to the strangers, for thus were it better their coming to greet.
But you—by what art or device shall ye save your souls alive
If a Thracian host burst on you, or cometh in battle to strive
Some other foe?—there be many such chances to men that befall,
Even as now yon array cometh unforeseen of us all.
But if one of the Blessèd should turn this affliction away, there remain
Countless afflictions beside, far worse than the battle’s strain.
For when through the gates of the grave the older women have passed,
And childless the younger have won to a joyless eld at the last,
How then will ye live, O hapless?—what, will the beasts freewilled
On their own necks cast the yoke, to the end that your lands may be tilled?
And the furrow-sundering share will they drag through the heavy loam?
And, as rolleth the year round, straight will they bring you the harvest home?
Now, albeit from me the Fates still shrink as in loathing and fear,
Yet surely on me, when the feet draw nigh of another year,
The earth shall lie, when the burial rites have been rendered to me,
Even as is due, and the evil days I shall not see.
But for you which be younger, I counsel you, give good heed unto this,
For that now at your feet an open way of deliverance there is,
If ye will but commit your dwellings and all your spoil to the guard
Of the strangers, yea, and your goodly city for these to ward.”
She spake, and with clamour the folkmote was filled, for good in their eyes
Was the word, and straightway thereafter again did Hypsipylê rise,
And her voice pealed over the multitude, stilling the mingled cries:
“If in sooth in the sight of you all well-pleasing is this same rede,
Unto the ship straightway a messenger hence will I speed.”
To Iphinoê which waited beside her spake she her hest:
“Up, Iphinoê, and to yonder man bear this my request,
That he come to our town, even he who is chief of the strangers’ array,
For the word that pleaseth the heart of my people to him would I say.
Yea, and his fellows bid thou to light in friendship down
On our shore, if they will, and to enter undismayed our town.”
She spake, and dismissed the assembly, and homeward she wended her way;
But Iphinoê to the Minyans went; and they bade her say
What was the mind wherewithal she was come, and what her need.
And straightway she told them the words of her message with eager speed:
“The daughter of Thoas, Hypsipylê, sent me hither away
To summon the lord of your ship, and the captain of your array,
That the will of her folk she may tell him, their heart’s desire this day.
Yea, and his fellows she biddeth to light in friendship down
On our shore, if they will, and to enter undismayed our town.”
So spake she, and fair in the sight of them all was the word that she said;
For they deemed that Hypsipylê reigned in the room of Thoas dead,
His daughter, his well-beloved; and they hasted Jason to meet
The island-queen, and they dight them to follow their captain’s feet.
Then he flung o’er his shoulders the web by the Goddess Itonian wrought;
In the clasp of a brooch were the folds of the
