Down-streaming from neck and from head in the glory of youth arrayed, Dark tresses that tossed in the rushing breezes amidst them that played. Yea, and Akastus, his own son, had no will to abide That day with his mighty sire in the halls of Pelias' pride. Nor would Argus be left, who had wrought as Athênê guided his hand; But these twain needs must be numbered too with the glorious band. This is the tale of the helpers with Aison's son that were found: These be the men whom the folk, even all which dwelt around, Called ever the Minyan Chiefs: for of those that went on the Quest {230} Born of the daughters of Minyas' blood were the most and the best. Yea, she which had borne this Jason to emprise perilous-wild, Alkimedê, also was daughter of Klymenê, Minyas' child. Now when all things ready were made by the hands of many a thrall, Even whatso the galley for sea ready-dight should be furnished withal, When traffic lureth the shipmen afar to an alien land, Then through the city they passed to their ship, where she lay on the strand Which is called Magnesian Pagasae. Ever, as onward they strode, To right and to left a mingled multitude ran: but they showed Radiant amidst them as stars amid clouds; and some 'gan cry, {240} As they gazed on the glorious forms that in harness of war swept by: 'What is in Pelias' thoughts, King Zeus, that so goodly a band Of heroes is hurled by him forth of the Panachaian land? In the day of their coming with ravening fire the halls shall they fill Of Aiêtes, except he shall yield them the Fleece of his own good will. But a long way lieth between, unaccomplished yet is the toil.' So spake they on this side and that through the city: the women the while, Heavenward uplifting their hands, to the Gods that abide for aye Made vehement prayer for the heart's delight of the homecoming day. And one to another made answer, and moaned, as her tears fell fast: {250} 'Hapless Alkimedê, thee too evil hath found at the last; Nor to thee was vouchsafed amid bliss to the end of thy days to attain! Woe's me for Aison the ill-starred!--verily this had been gain For him, if rolled in his shroud before this woeful day, Deep under Earth, with the cup of affliction untasted, he lay: And O that the darkling surge, when Hellê the maiden died, Had whelmed down Phrixus too with the ram!--but a man's voice cried From the throat of the monster, the portent accurst, that so it might doom For Alkimedê sorrow and griefs untold in the days to come.' So 'mid the moan of the women marched the heroes along. {260} And by this were the thralls and the handmaids gathered in one great throng. Then fell on his neck his mother, and sharply the anguish-thorn Pierced each soft breast, the while his father, the eld-forlorn, Close-swathed as a corpse on his bed, lay groaning and groaning again. But the hero essayed to hush their laments and assuage their pain