And aye keeping watch from the harbour-cliffs overbeetling their lair, {900}
From many an one had they reft sweet home-return, whom they slew
With wasting consuming them. Lo, on a sudden to Argo’s crew
Pealed from their lips their clear-sweet voice. From the galley now
Were they even at point to cast the hawser ashore from the prow;
But Thracian Orpheus matched him against that demon choir,
And the hands of Oiagrius’ scion swept the Bistonian lyre;
And the march of the song o’er the rippling melody rang ever higher,
Till their ears were filled with the chiming and thrilled with the triumph of sound,
And the Sea-maids’ shrilling chant in the storm of the lyre was drowned.