Of Becheirans they ran, past overweening Sapeirans’ strand,
And past the Byzêrans thereafter; for forward cleaving the seas
Went rushing the prow evermore, on-borne by the gentle breeze.
And to them, as they sped by, opened a Pontic gulf cleft deep;
And lo, the Caucasian mountains’ precipice-wall rose steep—
Sheer cliffs; and Prometheus there, with his limbs to the rough rocks gripped
By brazen gyves, whose knots no writhings have riven nor slipped,
Fed with his liver an eagle that aye swooped back on the prey. {1250}
High over their mast at even a whir and a rush heard they;
And anigh to the clouds they beheld it: yet even from that far height