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Poem by John Dyer The Golden Fleece In eldest times, when kings and hardy chiefs In bleating sheepfolds met, for purest wool Phoenicia's hilly tracts were most renowned, And fertile Syria's and Judaea's land, Hermon, and Seir, and Hebron's brooky sides: Twice with the murex, crimson hue, they tinged The shining fleeces: hence their gorgeous wealth; And hence arose the walls of ancient Tyre. Next busy Colchis, blessed with frequent rains, And lively verdure (who the lucid stream Of Phasis boasted, and a portly race Of fair inhabitants) improved the fleece; When, o'er the deep by flying Phryxus brought, The famed Thessalian ram enriched her plains. This rising Greece with indignation viewed And youthful Jason an attempt conceived Lofty and bold: along Peneus' banks, Around Olympus' brows, the Muses' haunts, He roused the brave to redemand the fleece. Attend, ye British swains, the ancient song. From every region of AEgea's shore The brave assembled; those illustrious twins, Castor and Pollux; Orpheus, tuneful bard! Zetes and Calais, as the wind in speed; Strong Hercules; and many a chief renowned. On deep Iolcos' sandy shore they thronged, Gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits; And soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone Uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark; Whose keel, of wondrous length, the skilful hand Of Argus fashioned for the proud attempt; And in th' extended keel a lofty mast Upraised, and sails full-swelling; to the chiefs Unwonted objects; now first, now they learned Their bolder steerage over ocean wave, Led by the golden stars, as Chiron's art Had marked the sphere celestial. Wide abroad Expands the purple deep: the cloudy isles, Scyros and Scopelos and Icos rise, And Halonesos: soon huge Lemnos heaves Her azure head above the level brine, Shakes off her mists, and brightens all her cliffs: While they, her flattering creeks and opening bowers Cautious approaching, in Myrina's port Cast out the cabled stone upon the strand. Next to the Mysian shore they shape their course, But with too eager haste: in the white foam His oar Alcides breaks; howe'er, not long The chase detains; he springs upon the shore, And, rifting from the roots a tapering pine, Renews his stroke. Between the threatening towers Of Hellespont they ply the rugged surge, To Hero's and Leander's ardent love Fatal: then smooth Propontis' widening wave, That like a glassy lake expands, with hills; Hills above hills, and gloomy woods, begirt. And now the Thracian Bosphorus they dare, Till the Symplegades, tremendous rocks, Threaten approach; but they, unterrified, Through the sharp-pointed cliffs and thundering floods Cleave their bold passage: nathless by the crags And torrents sorely shattered: as the strong Eagle or vulture, in the entangling net Involved, breaks through, yet leaves his plumes behind. Thus, through the wide waves, their slow way they force To Thynia's hospitable isle. The brave Pass many perils, and to fame by such Experience rise. Refreshed, again they speed From cape to cape, and view unnumbered streams, Halys, with hoary Lycus, and the mouths Of Asparus and Glaucus, rolling swift To the broad deep their tributary waves; Till in the long-sought harbor they arrive Of golden Phasis. Foremost on the strand Jason advanced: the deep capacious bay, The crumbling terrace of the marble port, Wondering he viewed, and stately palace-domes, Pavilions proud of luxury: around, In every glittering hall, within, without, O'er all the timbrel-sounding squares and streets, Nothing appeared but luxury, and crowds Sunk deep in riot. To the public weal Attentive none he found: for he, their chief Of shepherds, proud AEetes, by the name Sometimes of king distinguished, 'gan to slight The shepherd's trade, and turn to song and dance: Even Hydrus ceased to watch; Medea's songs Of joy and rosy youth and beauty's charms, With magic sweetness lulled his cares asleep, Till the bold heroes grasped the golden fleece. Nimbly they winged the bark, surrounded soon By Neptune's friendly waves: secure they speed O'er the known seas, by every guiding cape, With prosperous return. The myrtle shores, And glassy mirror of Iolcos' lake, With loud acclaim received them. Every vale And every hillock touched the tuneful stops Of pipes unnumbered, for the ram regained. John Dyer John Dyer's other poems:
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