Bridged o'er with marble steps, and midmost there Grew a green tree, whose smooth grey boughs did bear Such fruit as never man elsewhere had seen, For 'twixt the sunlight and the shadow green Shone out fair apples of red gleaming gold. Moreover round the tree, in many a fold, Lay coiled a dragon, glittering little less Than that which his eternal watchfulness Was set to guard; nor yet was he alone, For from the daisied grass about him shone Gold raiment wrapping round two damsels fair, And one upon the steps combed out her hair, And with shut eyes sung low as in a dream; And one stood naked in the cold blue stream, While on the bank her golden raiment lay; But on that noontide of the quivering day, She only, hearing the seafarers' shout, Her lovely golden head had turned about, And seen their white sail flapping o'er the wall, And as she turned had let her tresses fall, Which the thin water rippling round her knee Bore outward from her toward the restless sea. Not long she stood, but looking seaward yet, From out the water made good haste to get, And catching up her raiment hastily, Ran up the marble stair, and 'gan to cry: "Wake, O my sisters, wake, for now are come The thieves of Æa to our peaceful home." Then at her voice they gat them to their feet, And when her raiment all her body sweet Once more had hidden, joining hand to hand, About the sacred apples did they stand, While coiled the dragon closer to the tree, And raised his head above them threateningly. Meanwhile, from Argo many a sea-beat face Gazed longingly upon that lovely place, And some their eager hands already laid Upon the gangway. Then Medea said:-- "Get back unto the oars, O Minyæ, Nor loiter here, for what have such as we To do herein, where, 'mid undying trees, Undying watch the wise Hesperides, And where the while they watch, scarce can a God Set foot upon the fruit-besprinkled sod That no snow ever covers? therefore haste, Nor yet in wondering your fair lives waste; For these are as the Gods, nor think of us, Nor to their eyes can aught be glorious That son of man can do; would God that I Could see far off the misty headland lie, Where we the guilt of blood shall wash away, For I grow weary of the dashing spray, And ceaseless roll of interwoven seas, And fain were sitting 'neath the whispering trees In homely places, where the children play, Who change like me, grow old, and die some day." She ceased, and little soothly did they grieve, For all its loveliness, that land to leave, For now some God had chilled their hardihead, And in their hearts had set a sacred dread, They knew not why; but on their oars they hung, A little longer as the sisters sung.