Down-trailed from the height of his neck to his heel as he trod, and anon {180}
Did he gather it up in his clutch, for that sorely he feared the while
Lest a God or a man might meet him and wrest from his hands the spoil.
Dawn over the earth was spread, and now those twain returned
To their company. Marvelled the youths to behold how the great Fleece burned
A splendour as lightning of Zeus. Upsprang they, for eager-keen
Was each man to touch the glory, and clasp it his hands between.
But the son of Aison withheld them: a mantle thereover he threw
New-woven, to hide it. To Argo’s stern the maiden he drew,
And he seated her there; and he spake to the heroes all his rede: