And stowed in the mast-trough then; and the mast unstepped they withal,
And lowered in haste, till it lay along: then rowed they fast
Into the river’s mighty stream; round the prow as they passed
He surged as he yielded them way; and they had on the leftward hand
High Caucasus now, and the city Kytaian of Aia-land;
And to rightward the plain and the holy grove of the War-god lay
Where keepeth the serpent watch and ward on the Fleece alway,
As it hangeth amidst of the thick-leaved boughs of an oak outspread. {1270}
And Aison’s son himself from a golden chalice shed
Into the river libations of sweet unmingled wine