the sheep stand clumped together, tripping over
each other—that’s the way the heroes sent
grim panic through the proud Bebrycians.
And as when beekeepers or herdsmen smoke
165 (131)a giant hive concealed in a rock,
the bees at first are crowded and confused,
abuzz with rage, and then the sooty coils
of vapor suffocate them, and they all
dart from the rock and scatter far and wide,
170so the Bebrycians did not hold firm
for long, but fled in all directions, bearing
news of Amycus’ demise. The fools
had not yet realized another crushing
disaster was at hand. That very day,
175now that their king was dead, the hostile spears
of Lycus and his Mariandynians
were pillaging their villages and vineyards
(the two were rival peoples, always feuding
over a territory rich in iron).
180 (142)So the heroes raided all the stalls
and rounded up vast flocks and, as they did it,
this was how they were talking to each other:
“Just think of how those cowards would have fallen
if Zeus had somehow left us Heracles.
185I am quite sure that, had he been at hand,
the boxing match would not have taken place.
No, when Amycus swaggered up to us
to bray his laws, a thumping would have made him
forget his pride and all his proclamations.
190We did a thoughtless thing indeed by leaving
that man behind and heading out to sea.
Each one of us will come to know death ruin
intimately, now that he is gone.”
That’s how they talked, but Zeus, of course, had brought
195 (154)the loss of Heracles to pass on purpose.
The heroes spent the night there, bound the wounded,
and, after making sacrifice, prepared
a mighty banquet. After dinner, though,
slumber was far from holding sway beside
200the wine bowl and the blazing sacrifices.
Once they had crowned their golden hair with laurel
that grew along the same shore where the cables
were bound, the heroes sang a victory ode
in harmony with Orpheus’ lyre,
205and the unruffled shore enjoyed their singing,
since they were celebrating Polydeuces,
the boy whom Zeus had fathered in Therapna.
But when the sun came over the horizon,
lit the dewy hills and roused the shepherds,
210 (166)the heroes lugged aboard the spoils that seemed
most useful, loosed the cables from the laurel,
and coasted with a friendly wind behind them
into the roiling Bosporus.
There wave
on wave, like heaven-climbing mountains reaching
215above the clouds, shoot up before a ship’s prow,
hover a while and then come crashing down.
One would assume no vessel could endure
so dire a doom suspended like a savage
storm cloud above the mainmast. But these threats
220are navigable to a hardy helmsman.
So, guided by the skillful hands of Tiphys,
they coasted onward, frightened but alive,
and lashed their cables on the following day
to Thynia on the opposing coast.
225 (178)Phineus the son of Agenor
was living in a house there near the shore,
suffering more than any man alive
because of the prophetic skill Apollo
had granted him some years before. You see,
230he never paid due reverence to the gods,
not even Zeus himself, since he divulged
their sacred will too thoroughly to mortals.
Zeus smote him, therefore, with a long old age
and plucked the honeyed sunlight from his eyes.
235Still worse, he never could enjoy the lavish
banquets the locals heaped up in his house
when they arrived to ask their fortunes. Harpies
would always swoop down with rapacious maw
and snatch the food out of his hands and lips.
240 (189)Sometimes they left behind no food at all
and sometimes just a morsel, so that he
might go on living in despair. Still worse,
they left a foul stench on the leftovers,
and no one dared to lift them to his mouth
245or even stand nearby, because they reeked
so hideously.
As soon as Phineus
discerned the heroes’ footsteps and halloos,
he knew what men had come—those at whose coming
the oracle of Zeus had prophesied
250he would again be able to enjoy
comfortable meals. He struggled out of bed
like an ethereal dream and then, propped on
a walking stick, tapped over to the door
by fingering his way along the walls.
255 (200)His joints were trembling with age and weakness
as he divined the exit. Scabrous skin
coated in dirt was all that held his bones
together. Once he reached the door, his knees
buckled. He crumpled on the courtyard threshold.
260Dark dizziness enveloped him. The ground,
it seemed, was spinning, and he slipped away
into a torpor, helpless, speechless, still.
Soon as the heroes spotted him, they gathered
around in awe. After a while he sucked
265a rasp up from the bottom of his lungs
and uttered prophecy unto them:
“Hear me,
bravest of the Hellenic heroes—that is,
if you are actually the men whom Jason
leads in the Argo questing for the fleece
270 (210)under the orders of a ruthless king.
Yes, it is you. My mind has grasped the fact
through divination. Racked by miserable
afflictions though I am, I still shall give
Apollo son of Leto proper credit.
275By Zeus the guardian of suppliants
and sternest judge of sinful men, by Phoebus,
by Hera, too, who most of all the gods
protects your quest, I beg you, help me please!
Save an accursed man from degradation.
280Please, oh, please, do not just sail away
and with indifference leave me as I am.
Not only has a Fury dug her feet
into my eyes, not only must I drag out
old age interminably day by day,
285 (222)but, in addition to these woes, a still
more bitter evil lurks above me: Harpies
swoop down from some exotic nest of spite
and rip the food out of my mouth. I know
no way I can relieve myself of them.
290When famished for a meal, more easily
could I escape from my own mind than them,
so swiftly do they plummet through the air.
And even when they leave some scrap behind,
it breathes an odor putrid and unbearable.
295No mortal could endure approaching it,
not even if his heart were forged of iron.
But bitter, cruel necessity compels me
to stay there all the same and, while I’m there,
force it into my miserable stomach.
300 (234)An oracle holds the sons of Boreas
shall stop the Harpies’ aerial thefts and, trust me,
whoever does so will be dear to me,
that is, if I am still that Phineus known
for wealth and seercraft, and if indeed
&
nbsp; 305I am my father’s son, and if indeed,
when king of Thrace, I purchased Cleopatra
(the sister of you sons of Boreas)
with bridal gifts and brought her to my home.”
So spoke the son of Agenor, and deep
310compassion worked its way through all the heroes,
especially the sons of Boreas.
As soon as Zetes had repressed his tears,
he went up to the venerable man,
a man of sorrow, took his hand and said:
315 (244)“Sad old man, of all the men on Earth
not one, I swear, has suffered more than you.
Why have so many woes been heaped upon you?
Surely you must have uttered prophecies
in awful brashness to offend the gods
320and make them rage so violently against you.
Nevertheless, keen as we are to help,
the minds within us are uneasy, wondering
whether some god has truly offered us
this special honor. Here among us mortals
325gods’ punishments hit all too close to home.
So, though we long to help you, we shall not
drive off the Harpies till you promise us
that we shall not incur the gods’ disfavor
because of it.”
So Zetes sought assurance.
330 (254)The old man opened up his empty orbs,
swiveled them round to him and answered,
“Hush,
my child. Don’t fill your head with thoughts like those.
I call as witness Leto’s son, the god
who kindly taught me the prophetic art;
335I call the dismal fate that is my lot,
to wit, this smoky cloud upon my eyes;
I call as well the Gods of Underground
(when I am dead, may they be kind to me)—
yes, in the names of all these powers, I swear
340the gods will not resent the help you give me.”
After this oath the sons of Boreas
were keen to drive the Harpies off. Straightway
the younger heroes put a feast together,
the Harpies’ final meal, and Calaïs
345 (265)and Zetes stood on either side of Phineus,
ready to snatch their weapons up as soon as
the Harpies swooped.
At just the very moment
the old man laid his hands on food, the Harpies
descended without warning from the clouds,
350like gales, like lightning, shrieking out their hunger.
The heroes shouted when they saw them coming
but, even as they shouted, whoosh! the creatures
had gobbled up the banquet and were gone
far, far away across the sea. The stench
355they left behind them was insufferable.
Nevertheless, the sons of Boreas
took sword in hand and flew off in pursuit.
Zeus gave them boundless speed. Without his help,
they never could have kept up since the Harpies
360 (277)had always outstripped even Zephyr’s gales
both when they dived for Phineus and left him.
Imagine mastiffs on a mountainside,
pedigreed trackers, chasing goats and deer—
how, when their muzzles near the quarry’s haunches,
365their fangs can snap and snap to no avail,
that’s how the brothers Calaïs and Zetes
swooped in behind the Harpies’ tail feathers
and grazed them with their fingertips in vain.
They were at last quite close to catching them
370way out above the Ever-Floating Isles
and surely would have cut the fiends to pieces,
contrary to the gods’ intent, had not
swift Iris seen them, streaked out of the sky,
and halted them with these imperious terms:
375 (288)“Justice forbids you, sons of Boreas,
from touching with your swords almighty Zeus’
feathered hounds, the Harpies. But I here
do solemnly proclaim that they shall never
again return to bother Phineus.”
380She swore an oath upon the river Styx
(the gods’ most firm and formidable pledge),
vowing the Harpies never in the future
would come and harry Phineus’ house—
so had the Fates ordained. The brothers yielded
385before the oath and turned around to fly
back to the ship, and still today men call
the islands where they turned the Turning Isles
and not the Floating Isles (their former name).
Then Iris and the Harpies parted ways:
390 (299)the latter to Minoan Crete to find
their cage again; the former fluttering
on rapid wings back up to Mount Olympus.
The men meanwhile were scrubbing years of foulness
off the old man’s hide and sacrificing
395sheep taken from the plunder of Amycus.
Once they had cooked them up, they held a banquet.
Phineus ate as well, and ravenously,
sating his lust as people do in dreams.
When they had dined and drunk themselves to fullness,
400the heroes stayed awake all night awaiting
Zetes and Calaïs. The aged seer
sat at the hearth among them, prophesying
how they should travel to complete their quest:
“Now heed me well. The gods do not permit you
405 (312)to know in detail all that is to come,
but what they do permit I shall reveal.
You see, I made an error long ago
by rashly prophesying Zeus’ plans
from start to finish. He himself insists
410humanity possess, through divination,
abridged foreknowledge, so that we are always
lacking some portion of divine intent.
When you depart from me, you will discern,
first off, the Cobalt Clashing Rocks, two headlands
415right where the estuary narrows. No one,
and I repeat, no one, has ever sailed
between them. Lacking deep bedrock to root them
into the ocean floor, they often crash
together into one, and briny spume
420 (323)boils above them, and the rugged shores
roar hoarsely. Therefore, if you are endowed
with prudent thoughts and truly fear the gods,
if you are not mere reckless adolescents
heading for a self-assured destruction,
heed my instructions now:
425Send out a dove
to fly before the ship and as an omen
test the Rocks. If it survives the flight
through them into the Pontus, all of you
no longer hold off on your outward journey
430but grip the oars solidly in your hands
and cleave that narrow stretch of sea. Survival
will then depend less on how hard you pray
than on how strong your hands are. Scorn distraction
and heave, heave all your strength into the oars—
435 (336)though, mind you, I do not forbid you prayer
before that time.
However, if the dove
dies halfway through, you may as well start sailing
for home again, since it is far, far better
to bow before god’s will. No, even if
440your ship had iron planks, you couldn’t then
escape a dismal fate between the Rocks.
Unlucky men, do not then disregard
my prophecy, not even if you think
the gods upon Olympus loathe me three times
445more than in fact they do—no, even if
you think they loathe me more than that—
do not
defy the dove and push the Argo onward.
What will come to pass will come to pass.
But if you do outrun the Rocks’ concussion
450 (346)and coast, unscathed, into the Pontic Sea,
sail with the land of the Bithynians
to port and guard against the barrier reefs
until you round the swiftly flowing Rhebas
and Sable Promontory and at last
455make landfall on the Isle of Thynias.
From Thynias row out across the sea
and put in at the Mariandynian land
opposite. There a footpath switchbacks down
to Hades, and the Acherousian headland
460pierces the sky, and Acheron’s white spate
shoots out of an unfathomable chasm
and flows back down by cutting through the cape.
Once you have passed this river, you will pass
the uplands of the Paphlagonians.
465 (359)Their patriarch was Enetean Pelops—
such is the blood that courses through their veins.
There, underneath the astral Bear Helica,
a headland rises steep on all sides round.
Carambis is its name. The seaward face
470projects so high that Boreas’ squalls
split on its summit. You will find the Long Shore
stretching beyond it. At the farther end,
beyond a jutting cape, the river Halys
disgorges a bewilderment of froth.
475Not at all far from there, the Iris drains
its less tumultuously churning current
into the sea. Still farther on from there
a large, sharp cape projects out of the coast.
Beyond it you will find the Thermodon,
480 (370)which, after wandering across the mainland,
ends in a tranquil harbor at the base
of the Themiscyreian promontory.
Here are the steppes of Doeas, and the three
forts of the Amazons that stand upon them.
485Next you will reach those miserable wretches
the Chalybes who live upon a pinched,
illiberal soil. They are heavy drudges,
workers in iron. Tibarenians,
men rich in sheep, dwell on a plain nearby
490beneath the Genetaen cape, a site
sacred to Zeus the God of Guests and Hosts.
Next in line and neighbors to these men
the Mossynoeci dwell on woodland plains
and mountain spurs and cols. They build their homes
495 (381)from bark inside of towers made of timber,
rugged towers. They call the things ‘mossynes’
and take their name from them.
Jason and the Argonauts (Penguin Classics) Page 9
