Part 11 (1/2)

And when Aietes came to the place he saw the floating corpse; and he stopped a long while, and bewailed his son, and took him up, and went home. But he sent on his sailors toward the westward, and bound them by a mighty curse-'Bring back to me that dark witch-woman, that she may die a dreadful death. But if you return without her, you shall die by the same death yourselves.'

So the Argonauts escaped for that time: but Father Zeus saw that foul crime; and out of the heavens he sent a storm, and swept the s.h.i.+p far from her course. Day after day the storm drove her, amid foam and blinding mist, till they knew no longer where they were, for the sun was blotted from the skies. And at last the s.h.i.+p struck on a shoal, amid low isles of mud and sand, and the waves rolled over her and through her, and the heroes lost all hope of life.

Then Jason cried to Hera, 'Fair queen, who hast befriended us till now, why hast thou left us in our misery, to die here among unknown seas? It is hard to lose the honour which we have won with such toil and danger, and hard never to see h.e.l.las again, and the pleasant bay of Pagasai.'

Then out and spoke the magic bough which stood upon the _Argo's_ beak, 'Because Father Zeus is angry, all this has fallen on you; for a cruel crime has been done on board, and the sacred s.h.i.+p is foul with blood.'

At that some of the heroes cried, 'Medeia is the murderess. Let the witch-woman bear her sin, and die!' And they seized Medeia, to hurl her into the sea, and atone for the young boy's death; but the magic bough spoke again, 'Let her live till her crimes are full. Vengeance waits for her, slow and sure; but she must live, for you need her still. She must show you the way to her sister Circe, who lives among the islands of the West. To her you must sail, a weary way, and she shall cleanse you from your guilt.'

Then all the heroes wept aloud when they heard the sentence of the oak; for they knew that a dark journey lay before them, and years of bitter toil. And some upbraided the dark witch-woman, and some said, 'Nay, we are her debtors still; without her we should never have won the fleece.'

But most of them bit their lips in silence, for they feared the witch's spells.

And now the sea grew calmer, and the sun shone out once more, and the heroes thrust the s.h.i.+p off the sand-bank, and rowed forward on their weary course under the guiding of the dark witch-maiden, into the wastes of the unknown sea.

Whither they went I cannot tell, nor how they came to Circe's isle. Some say that they went to the westward, and up the Ister {130a} stream, and so came into the Adriatic, dragging their s.h.i.+p over the snowy Alps. And others say that they went southward, into the Red Indian Sea, and past the sunny lands where spices grow, round aethiopia toward the West; and that at last they came to Libya, and dragged their s.h.i.+p across the burning sands, and over the hills into the Syrtes, where the flats and quicksands spread for many a mile, between rich Cyrene and the Lotus-eaters' sh.o.r.e. But all these are but dreams and fables, and dim hints of unknown lands.

But all say that they came to a place where they had to drag their s.h.i.+p across the land nine days with ropes and rollers, till they came into an unknown sea. And the best of all the old songs tells us how they went away toward the North, till they came to the slope of Caucasus, where it sinks into the sea; and to the narrow Cimmerian Bosphorus, {130b} where the t.i.tan swam across upon the bull; and thence into the lazy waters of the still Maeotid lake. {130c} And thence they went northward ever, up the Tanais, which we call Don, past the Geloni and Sauromatai, and many a wandering shepherd-tribe, and the one-eyed Arimaspi, of whom old Greek poets tell, who steal the gold from the Griffins, in the cold Riphaian hills. {131a}

And they pa.s.sed the Scythian archers, and the Tauri who eat men, and the wandering Hyperboreai, who feed their flocks beneath the pole-star, until they came into the northern ocean, the dull dead Cronian Sea. {131b} And there _Argo_ would move on no longer; and each man clasped his elbow, and leaned his head upon his hand, heart-broken with toil and hunger, and gave himself up to death. But brave Ancaios the helmsman cheered up their hearts once more, and bade them leap on land, and haul the s.h.i.+p with ropes and rollers for many a weary day, whether over land, or mud, or ice, I know not, for the song is mixed and broken like a dream. And it says next, how they came to the rich nation of the famous long-lived men; and to the coast of the Cimmerians, who never saw the sun, buried deep in the glens of the snow mountains; and to the fair land of Hermione, where dwelt the most righteous of all nations; and to the gates of the world below, and to the dwelling-place of dreams.

And at last Ancaios shouted, 'Endure a little while, brave friends, the worst is surely past; for I can see the pure west wind ruffle the water, and hear the roar of ocean on the sands. So raise up the mast, and set the sail, and face what comes like men.'

Then out spoke the magic bough, 'Ah, would that I had perished long ago, and been whelmed by the dread blue rocks, beneath the fierce swell of the Euxine! Better so, than to wander for ever, disgraced by the guilt of my princes; for the blood of Absyrtus still tracks me, and woe follows hard upon woe. And now some dark horror will clutch me, if I come near the Isle of Ierne. {132} Unless you will cling to the land, and sail southward and southward for ever, I shall wander beyond the Atlantic, to the ocean which has no sh.o.r.e.'

Then they blest the magic bough, and sailed southward along the land.

But ere they could pa.s.s Ierne, the land of mists and storms, the wild wind came down, dark and roaring, and caught the sail, and strained the ropes. And away they drove twelve nights, on the wide wild western sea, through the foam, and over the rollers, while they saw neither sun nor stars. And they cried again, 'We shall perish, for we know not where we are. We are lost in the dreary damp darkness, and cannot tell north from south.'

But Lynceus the long-sighted called gaily from the bows, 'Take heart again, brave sailors; for I see a pine-clad isle, and the halls of the kind Earth-mother, with a crown of clouds around them.'

But Orpheus said, 'Turn from them, for no living man can land there: there is no harbour on the coast, but steep-walled cliffs all round.'

So Ancaios turned the s.h.i.+p away; and for three days more they sailed on, till they came to Aiaia, Circe's home, and the fairy island of the West.

{133}

And there Jason bid them land, and seek about for any sign of living man.

And as they went inland Circe met them, coming down toward the s.h.i.+p; and they trembled when they saw her, for her hair, and face, and robes shone like flame.

And she came and looked at Medeia; and Medeia hid her face beneath her veil.

And Circe cried, 'Ah, wretched girl, have you forgotten all your sins, that you come hither to my island, where the flowers bloom all the year round? Where is your aged father, and the brother whom you killed?

Little do I expect you to return in safety with these strangers whom you love. I will send you food and wine: but your s.h.i.+p must not stay here, for it is foul with sin, and foul with sin its crew.'

And the heroes prayed her, but in vain, and cried, 'Cleanse us from our guilt!' But she sent them away, and said, 'Go on to Malea, and there you may be cleansed, and return home.'

Then a fair wind rose, and they sailed eastward by Tartessus on the Iberian sh.o.r.e, till they came to the Pillars of Hercules, and the Mediterranean Sea. And thence they sailed on through the deeps of Sardinia, and past the Ausonian islands, and the capes of the Tyrrhenian sh.o.r.e, till they came to a flowery island, upon a still bright summer's eve. And as they neared it, slowly and wearily, they heard sweet songs upon the sh.o.r.e. But when Medeia heard it, she started, and cried, 'Beware, all heroes, for these are the rocks of the Sirens. You must pa.s.s close by them, for there is no other channel; but those who listen to that song are lost.'

Then Orpheus spoke, the king of all minstrels, 'Let them match their song against mine. I have charmed stones, and trees, and dragons, how much more the hearts of men!' So he caught up his lyre, and stood upon the p.o.o.p, and began his magic song.