he city made merry; thou wouldst say they
were rejoicing over their own sons. And the heroes themselves strode in
gladness through the throng, even as though they had set foot in the
heart of Haemonia; but soon were they to arm and raise the battle-cry;
so near to them appeared a boundless host of Colchians, who had passed
through the mouth of Pontus and between the Cyanean rocks in search of
the chieftains. They desired forthwith to carry off Medea to her
father's house apart from the rest, or else they threatened with fierce
cruelty to raise the dread war-cry both then and thereafter on the
coming of Aeetes. But lordly Alcinous checked them amid their eagerness
for war. For he longed to allay the lawless strife between both sides
without the clash of battle. And the maiden in deadly fear often
implored the comrades of Aeson's son, and often with her hands touched
the knees of Arete, the bride of Alcinous:

[Footnote 1: i.e. the Sickle-island.]

"I beseech thee, O queen, be gracious and deliver me not to the
Colchians to be borne to my father, if thou thyself too art one of the
race of mortals, whose heart rushes swiftly to ruin from light
transgressions. For my firm sense forsook me--it was not for wantonness.
Be witness the sacred light of Helios, be witness the rites of the
maiden that wanders by night, daughter of Perses. Not willingly did I
haste from my home with men of an alien race but a horrible fear wrought
on me to bethink me of flight when I sinned; other device was there
none. Still my maiden's girdle remains, as in the halls of my father,
unstained, untouched. Pity me, lady, and turn thy lord to mercy; and may
the immortals grant thee a perfect life, and joy, and children, and the
glory of a city unravaged!"

Thus did she implore Arete, shedding tears, and thus each of the
chieftains in turn:

"On your account, ye men of peerless might, and on account of my toils
in your ventures am I sorely afflicted; even I, by whose help ye yoked
the bulls, and reaped the deadly harvest of the earthborn men; even I,
through whom on your homeward path ye shall bear to Haemonia the golden
fleece. Lo, here am I, who have lost my country and my parents, who have
lost my home and all the delights of life; to you have I restored your
country and your homes; with eyes of gladness ye will see again your
parents; but from me a heavy-handed god has reft all joy; and with
strangers I wander, an accursed thing. Fear your coven