The Argonautica

at baleful Orion's stormy setting deep in winter,

by a swift rush of storm-wind descending from high heaven,

and torn with its wedges from forestays, all wrenched free;

so Heracles raised the trunk, then gathered bow and arrows,

taking lion-skin and club, he turned back swiftly to camp.

Meanwhile Hylas left the throng, bearing a bronze pitcher,

and sought the sacred spring-flow, fresh water for Heracles.

He hurried to draw supper-water and prepare all else

swiftly in proper order, ready for Heracles' homecoming.

For Heracles had trained him in careful service and ordered habits,

from earliest helpless infancy, snatched from his father's household,

from godlike Theiodamas, his father, whom Heracles slew among Dryopes

pitilessly, as Theiodamas fought to keep the earth-dividing plough-ox.

He cut the fallow field, ploughing furrow after furrow.

Theiodamas suffered bitter anguish; Heracles himself

commanded the unwilling man to yield his ploughing ox.

He wanted to find a hateful pretext for war on the Dryopes,

since all the Dryopes dwelt lawless, never caring for justice.

But telling that story would wander far from my present song.

Swiftly Hylas reached a spring that neighboring settlers

called Pegae; close by, new nymph-choruses were forming.

For one care filled the hearts of all the nymphs

who dwelt all round the lovely headland's dominion:

to hymn Artemis always in their nightly choral singing.