ll they came into an
unknown sea. And the best of all the old songs tells us, how they went
away toward the north, till they came to the slope of Caucasus, where it
sinks into the sea; and to the narrow Cimmerian Bosphorus,[A] where the
Titan swam across upon the bull; and thence into the lazy waters of the
still Maeotid Lake.[B] And thence they went northward ever, up the
Tanais, which we call Don, past the Geloni and Sauromatai, and many a
wandering shepherd tribe, and the one-eyed Arimaspi, of whom old Greek
poets tell, who steal the gold from the Griffins, in the cold
Rhiphaian[C] hills.

And they passed the Scythian archers, and the Tauri who eat men, and the
wandering Hyperboreai, who feed their flocks beneath the pole star,
until they came into the northern ocean, the dull dead Cronian Sea.[D]
And there Argo would move on no longer; and each man clasped his elbow,
and leaned his head upon his hand, heartbroken with toil and hunger, and
gave himself up to death. But brave Ancaios the helmsman cheered up
their hearts once more, and bade them leap on land, and haul the ship
with ropes and rollers for many a weary day, whether over land, or mud,
or ice, I know not, for the song is mixed and broken like a dream. And
it says next, how they came to the rich nation of the famous long-lived
men; and to the coast of the Cimmerians, who never saw the sun, buried
deep in the glens of the snow mountains; and to the fair land of
Hermione, where dwelt the most righteous of all nations; and to the
gates of the world below, and to the dwelling place of dreams.

[Footnote A: Between the Crimaea and Circassia.]

[Footnote B: The Sea of Azov.]

[Footnote C: The Ural Mountains.]

[Footnote D: The Baltic.]

And at last Ancaios shouted: "Endure a little while, brave friends, the
worst is surely past; for I can see the pure west wind ruffle the water,
and hear the roar of ocean on the sands. So raise up the mast, and set
the sail, and face what comes like men."

Then out spoke the magic bough: "Ah, would that I had perished long ago,
and been whelmed by the dread blue rocks, beneath the fierce swell of
the Euxine! Better so, than to wander forever, disgraced by the guilt of
my princes; for the blood of Absyrtus still tracks me, and woe follows
hard upon woe. And now some dark horror will clutch me, if I come near
the Isle of Ierne.[A] Unless you will cling to the land, and sail
southward and southward forever, I shall wander bey