in its flight, poising in the clear sky with quiet pinions.
And lo, they passed by the stream of Parthenius as it flows into the
sea, a most gentle river, where the maid, daughter of Leto, when she
mounts to heaven after the chase, cools her limbs in its much-desired
waters. Then they sped onward in the night without ceasing, and passed
Sesamus and lofty Erythini, Crobialus, Cromna and woody Cytorus. Next
they swept round Carambis at the rising of the sun, and plied the oars
past long Aegialus, all day and on through the night.

(ll. 946-965) And straightway they landed on the Assyrian shore where
Zeus himself gave a home to Sinope, daughter of Asopus, and granted her
virginity, beguiled by his own promises. For he longed for her love, and
he promised to grant her whatever her hearts desire might be. And she in
her craftiness asked of him virginity. And in like manner she deceived
Apollo too who longed to wed her, and besides them the river Halys, and
no man ever subdued her in love's embrace. And there the sons of
noble Deimachus of Tricca were still dwelling, Deileon, Autolycus and
Phlogius, since the day when they wandered far away from Heracles; and
they, when they marked the array of chieftains, went to meet them and
declared in truth who they were; and they wished to remain there no
longer, but as soon as Argestes [1206] blew went on ship-board. And so
with them, borne along by the swift breeze, the heroes left behind the
river Halys, and left behind his that flows hard by, and the delta-land
of Assyria; and on the same day they rounded the distant headland of the
Amazons that guards their harbour.

(ll. 966-1001) Here once when Melanippe, daughter of Ares, had, gone
forth, the hero Heracles caught her by ambuscade and Hippolyte gave
him her glistening girdle as her sister's ransom, and he sent away
his captive unharmed. In the bay of this headland, at the outfall of
Thermodon, they ran ashore, for the sea was rough for their voyage. No
river is like this, and none sends forth from itself such mighty streams
over the land. If a man should count every one he would lack but four of
a hundred, but the real spring is only one. This flows down to the
plain from lofty mountains, which, men say, are called the Amazonian
mountains. Thence it spreads inland over a hilly country straight
forward; wherefrom its streams go winding on, and they roll on, this way
and that ever more, wherever best they can reach the lower groun