With the far-darting bow. These pass, and, holding
Thy course by the salt sea’s sounding surge, pass through
The land; next, on thy left, thou’lt reach the Chalybs,
Workers in iron. These too avoid—for they
Are savage, and harsh to strangers. Thence proceeding,
Thou to a stream shalt come, not falsely named
Hubristes: but the fierce ill-forded wave
Pass not till Caucasus, hugest hill, receives thee,
There where the flood its gushing strength foams forth
Fresh from the rocky brow. Cross then the peaks