Mad was I of yore, when I spake unto Earth’s sons Zeus’s will
In all points unto the end: for this is his pleasure still
To reveal unto men his oracles short of the fulness of doom,
That so they may lean on the Gods, and faith and prayer have room.
The Rocks Kyanean first, when that gotten ye are from me,
In the place where the two seas meet, the Dark Blue Crags, shall ye see.
Through that dread pass no pilot, I ween, hath prevailed to go;
For rooted they are not to earth on foundations of rock therebelow; {320}
But with rush and recoil unceasingly each against other they clash:
High over them archeth the crested brine, and the foam-feathers flash