Have they in the planting of fruit that as honey is sweet to the heart;
Neither lead they the pasturing flocks over meadows a-glitter with dew:
But the ribs of the stubborn earth for the treasure of iron they hew,
And by merchandise of the same do they live: never dawning broke
Bringing respite of toil unto them, but ever midst mirk of smoke
And flame at the forge are they moiling and plying the weary stroke.
Round the headland of Zeus the All-begetter swept they then;
And safely they sped by the land of the Tibarenian men. {1010}
When a woman in that land beareth a child to her lord, on his bed
Doth her husband cast him adown, and he groaneth with close-swathed head