And now the thud of the rocks, as each against other they clashed,
Ceaselessly smote on their ears, and thundered the cliffs brine-lashed.
Even then Euphêmus uprose firm-grasping the dove in his hand,
And on to the prow he strode, and the oarsmen obeyed the command
Of Tiphys Hagnias’ son, that they rowed with might and main
To drive the Argo betwixt the rocks through the perilous lane,
Putting their trust in their strength; and the crags, as asunder they leapt,
Opening they saw—of all men last—round a bend as they swept. {560}
And their spirit was melted within them:—but now Euphêmus hath sped
The flight of the wings of the dove: each man uplifted his head,