The Argonautica

Swiftly he drew his great sword and sprang in pursuit,

lest savage beasts had made him prey, or raiding men

had ambushed him alone and carried ready plunder off.

There on the track, racing headlong, he met Heracles himself,

his naked sword brandished; clearly he recognized the hero

hurrying through darkness toward Argo; instantly the bitter disaster

he told, heart burdened by his deep and laboring gasps:

Poor friend, I am first to tell you this hateful sorrow:

Hylas went out to the spring and failed to return safely.

Robbers press close around him, carrying Hylas away,

or wild beasts are ravaging him; I heard Hylas cry.

He heard; abundant sweat poured downward from his temples,

and black blood boiled beneath the deep folds of his vitals.

Enraged, he hurled the fir to earth, raced down the path

where his feet bore him leaping; swift was his headlong flight.

As a bull struck mad by the gadfly rushes headlong,

leaving behind wet meadows, marshlands, and herdsmen,

heedless of herd, pressing its course, now never pausing,

now stopping, rearing its broad neck high and upright,

it sends a deep bellow, tortured by the maddening gadfly;

so Heracles, raging, drove his swift knees onward,

in ceaseless strides; then halted, resting from hard labor,

and far away called out with great and piercing voice.

At once the morning star climbed over the highest peaks,