So Argus spake: but the wrath of the king waxed hot as he heard,
And his soul like a stormy sea with a tempest of fury was stirred.
Fuming he spake—with the sons of his daughter above the rest
Was he wroth, for he weened that of these had Jason been moved to the Quest: {370}
And the light of his anger leapt from his eyes as levin-flame:
‘And will ye not straightway be gone from my sight, ye felons of shame,
And depart from the land afar with the guile of your treachery,
Ere a bitter Fleece and a bitter Phrixus here ye see,
With your friends back faring to Hellas? Not for the Fleece come ye!
Nay, but my sceptre and kingly honour ye come to take!