The Islands of the Blest, _μακάρων νῆσοι_, do not vanish henceforward from the world’s literature, but continue to haunt the Atlantic through the Roman period and deep into the Middle Ages. In the west, too, were localized other and wilder myths; here were the scenes of the Perseus fable, the island of the weird and communistic sisters, the Graeae, and the Gorgonides, the homes of Medusa and her sister Gorgons, the birthplace of the dread Chimaera.[295] The importance of the far west in the myths connected with Hercules is well known. In the traditionary twelve labors the Greek hero is confused with his prototype the Tyrian Melkarth, and those labors which deal with the west were doubtless borrowed from the cult which the Greeks had found established at Gades when trade first led them thither. In the tenth labor it is the western isle Erytheia, which Hercules visits in the golden cup wherein Helios was wont to make his nocturnal ocean voyage, and from which he returns with the oxen of the giant Geryon. Even more famous was the search for the apples of the Hesperides, which constituted the eleventh labor. This golden fruit, the wedding gift produced by Gaa for Hera, the prudent goddess, doubtful of the security of Olympus, gave in charge to the Hesperian maids, whose island garden lay at earth’s furthest bounds, near where the mysterious Atlas, their father or their uncle, wise in the secrets of the sea, watched over the pillars which propped the sky, or himself bore the burden of the heavenly vault. The poets delighted to depict these isles with their shrill-singing nymphs, in the same glowing words which they applied to the Isles of the Blessed. “Oh that I, like a bird, might fly from care over the Adriatic waves!” cries the chorus in the Crowned Hippolytus, “Or to the famed Hesperian plains, Whose rich trees bloom with gold, To join the grief-attuned strains My winged progress hold: Beyond whose shores no passage gave The ruler of the purple wave; “But Atlas stands, his stately height The awfull boundary of the skies: There fountains of Ambrosia rise, Wat’ring the seat of Jove: her stores Luxuriant there the rich soil pours All, which the sense of gods delights.”[296]