joiced in their journey, already foreboding how
all would end.

(ll. 927-931) Now by the path along the plain there stands near the
shrine a poplar with its crown of countless leaves, whereon often
chattering crows would roost. One of them meantime as she clapped her
wings aloft in the branches uttered the counsels of Hera:

(ll. 932-937) "What a pitiful seer is this, that has not the wit to
conceive even what children know, how that no maiden will say a word
of sweetness or love to a youth when strangers be near. Begone, sorry
prophet, witless one; on thee neither Cypris nor the gentle Loves
breathe in their kindness."

(ll. 938-946) She spake chiding, and Mopsus smiled to hear the god-sent
voice of the bird, and thus addressed them: "Do thou, son of Aeson, pass
on to the temple, where thou wilt find the maiden; and very kind will
her greeting be to thee through the prompting of Cypris, who will be thy
helpmate in the contest, even as Phineus, Agenor's son, foretold. But
we two, Argus and I, will await thy return, apart in this very spot; do
thou all alone be a suppliant and win her over with prudent words."

(ll. 947-974) He spake wisely, and both at once gave approval. Nor was
Medea's heart turned to other thoughts, for all her singing, and never
a song that she essayed pleased her long in her sport. But in confusion
she ever faltered, nor did she keep her eyes resting quietly upon the
throng of her handmaids; but to the paths far off she strained her gaze,
turning her face aside. Oft did her heart sink fainting within her bosom
whenever she fancied she heard passing by the sound of a footfall or
of the wind. But soon he appeared to her longing eyes, striding along
loftily, like Sirius coming from ocean, which rises fair and clear to
see, but brings unspeakable mischief to flocks; thus then did Aeson's
son come to her, fair to see, but the sight of him brought love-sick
care. Her heart fell from out her bosom, and a dark mist came over her
eyes, and a hot blush covered her cheeks. And she had no strength to
lift her knees backwards or forwards, but her feet beneath were rooted
to the ground; and meantime all her handmaidens had drawn aside. So they
two stood face to face without a word, without a sound, like oaks or
lofty pines, which stand quietly side by side on the mountains when the
wind is still; then again, when stirred by the breath of the wind, they
murmur ceaselessly; so they two were destined to tell out