Yet from my fatherland went I: to sail in your galley I came,
That so to mine house might be left the renown of a hero’s name.’
He spake, and the young men, hearing the words of the prophet, were glad
For their home-return, but for Idmon’s doom were their hearts made sad.
And so, at the hour when the sun from his noon-halt sinketh adown, {450}
And over the harvest-lands the long rock-shadows are thrown,
As the sun to the eventide dusk slow-slideth aslant from the sky,
Even then did the heroes all on the sands of the beach pile high
A couch of the wildwood leaves, and in front of the surf-line hoar
Row upon row lay down, and beside them was measureless store