Now, when the morning, with her shining eyes,
Lookt forth on Pelion's lofty crags, and far
The verge serene of Ocean, rippling, dasht
With sound of beating waves, as the fresh wind
Ruffled the sea; then Tiphys waked and roused
His friends, to climb the deck, and set their oars:
Then with wild din the Pegasaean bay
Re-echoed; and instinctive sounds arose
From Pelian Argo, hastening to depart:
For Pallas, from Dodona's vocal oaks,
Had in the keel infixt a sacred beam.
They climbed the benches in their ordered ranks:
Each rower's seat disposed by lot, and sate
In fair array, their weapons ranged beside;
Ancaios in the midst; and in his strength,
Huge Heracles; his club beside him leaned:
Beneath his feet sank down the hollow keel.
Then were the oars outstretcht, and the sweet wine
Was poured upon the surface of the sea;
And Iason turned his eyes, that swam with tears,
From his dear country's shores. As youths that form
The dances of Apollo, midst the groves
Of Delphos, or in Delos' isle, or near
Ismenos' wave, and to the chiming harp
With rapid feet, elastic, strike the ground
Circling his altar; so to Orpheus' lyre
They smote the turbid billows of the sea
With cadenced oars. The ruffling surges dasht;
The dark brine leapt in foam from side to side;
Deep-murmuring to the strong impetuous strokes
From men of might. As on the galley rowed,
Their armour glittered in the sun like fire:
The waves' long track frothed whitening, and a path
Of foam appeared thro the green watery plain;
And on that day leaned all the Gods from Heaven
To look upon the ship and see the strength
Of demi-gods, who there with valour high
Travelled the deep: and from high Pelion's tops
The nymphs gazed wondering down; and saw the work
Of Pallas, and the heroic chiefs themselves
Firm brandishing their oars with grasping hands.
Cheiron himself from the high mountain's head
Came down beside the sea, and dipt his feet
In the shore's billowy foam: with many a sign
Waving his ponderous hand, and bidding them,
With acclamation, happily return.
His spouse beside him stood; and in her arms
Dandled the babe of Peleus: showing him
To his dear father. They, now, left behind
The shore-encircled bay, by Tiphys' skill
And prudence; who with art still held his hand
On the smooth rudder, guiding it secure.
Then in the socket the reared mast they fixt;
And stretcht the cordage, bound from side to side.
Then spread the sails, and to the top-mast strained:
The wind fell whistling in their folds. Then fast
Upon the decks they braced the tightened ropes
To cramps of wood; and calmly gliding, past
Beyond Tisaion's promontory crag
Long stretching into Ocean. Then with voice
And harp Aiager's son tuned smooth the lay
To high-born Dian, guardian of the ship,
Who rules the mountain beacons of the sea,
Protector of Iolchos. From the deep
The fishes upward sprung; the small and vast
Of all the scaly tribe leapt from beneath
In bounds and followed thro the liquid track.
As when the innumerable sheep, now full
Of pasture, follow on their leader's steps
Back to the sheep-fold: he before them walks,
Tuning on shrilling pipe a rustic lay;
So followed they, while fresher blew the gale.
Lookt forth on Pelion's lofty crags, and far
The verge serene of Ocean, rippling, dasht
With sound of beating waves, as the fresh wind
Ruffled the sea; then Tiphys waked and roused
His friends, to climb the deck, and set their oars:
Then with wild din the Pegasaean bay
Re-echoed; and instinctive sounds arose
From Pelian Argo, hastening to depart:
For Pallas, from Dodona's vocal oaks,
Had in the keel infixt a sacred beam.
They climbed the benches in their ordered ranks:
Each rower's seat disposed by lot, and sate
In fair array, their weapons ranged beside;
Ancaios in the midst; and in his strength,
Huge Heracles; his club beside him leaned:
Beneath his feet sank down the hollow keel.
Then were the oars outstretcht, and the sweet wine
Was poured upon the surface of the sea;
And Iason turned his eyes, that swam with tears,
From his dear country's shores. As youths that form
The dances of Apollo, midst the groves
Of Delphos, or in Delos' isle, or near
Ismenos' wave, and to the chiming harp
With rapid feet, elastic, strike the ground
Circling his altar; so to Orpheus' lyre
They smote the turbid billows of the sea
With cadenced oars. The ruffling surges dasht;
The dark brine leapt in foam from side to side;
Deep-murmuring to the strong impetuous strokes
From men of might. As on the galley rowed,
Their armour glittered in the sun like fire:
The waves' long track frothed whitening, and a path
Of foam appeared thro the green watery plain;
And on that day leaned all the Gods from Heaven
To look upon the ship and see the strength
Of demi-gods, who there with valour high
Travelled the deep: and from high Pelion's tops
The nymphs gazed wondering down; and saw the work
Of Pallas, and the heroic chiefs themselves
Firm brandishing their oars with grasping hands.
Cheiron himself from the high mountain's head
Came down beside the sea, and dipt his feet
In the shore's billowy foam: with many a sign
Waving his ponderous hand, and bidding them,
With acclamation, happily return.
His spouse beside him stood; and in her arms
Dandled the babe of Peleus: showing him
To his dear father. They, now, left behind
The shore-encircled bay, by Tiphys' skill
And prudence; who with art still held his hand
On the smooth rudder, guiding it secure.
Then in the socket the reared mast they fixt;
And stretcht the cordage, bound from side to side.
Then spread the sails, and to the top-mast strained:
The wind fell whistling in their folds. Then fast
Upon the decks they braced the tightened ropes
To cramps of wood; and calmly gliding, past
Beyond Tisaion's promontory crag
Long stretching into Ocean. Then with voice
And harp Aiager's son tuned smooth the lay
To high-born Dian, guardian of the ship,
Who rules the mountain beacons of the sea,
Protector of Iolchos. From the deep
The fishes upward sprung; the small and vast
Of all the scaly tribe leapt from beneath
In bounds and followed thro the liquid track.
As when the innumerable sheep, now full
Of pasture, follow on their leader's steps
Back to the sheep-fold: he before them walks,
Tuning on shrilling pipe a rustic lay;
So followed they, while fresher blew the gale.