The Argonautica

feeding on acorns among the hills. Nor yet was the Pelasgian

earth ruled in those days by the glorious sons of Deucalion,

In days when Eeria, rich in grainfields, bore the name

Egypt, motherland of the men born long before us,

and Triton, fair river, beneath whose deep waters all

Eeria is irrigated. Rain from Zeus never moistens it;

the fields grow thick with grain enough from the river's outpouring.

From there, they say, a certain man journeyed widely

the whole of Europe, all Asia, through his might and power

of his own people, with full trust in their courage; countless

cities he founded on his way; some remain inhabited

today, others deserted; long ages have passed.

Yet Aea even now stands firm, as do the descendants

of those men whom he settled there to dwell in Aea.

They preserve engraved records handed down from their fathers,

tablets where every route and boundary stands marked

for travelers ranging far through sea and solid land.

A river flows there, Ocean's uppermost horn,

broad, deep, yet passable even for a merchant ship

they call it Ister and marked it on their maps far distant.

For some way it cuts through the boundless plowland alone,

a single stream; its springs beyond the north wind's blowing

roar far away among the heights of the Rhipaean Mountains.

But once its waters reach the bounds of Thracians and Scythians,