Did they take on them, onward driven and on by Necessity’s goad, {1390}
Till afar mid the ripples of Trito’s mere how triumphantly strode,
How gladly adown from their stalwart shoulders they set their load!
Then rushing, like unto hounds in the wild hunt’s frenzy-burst,
Sought they a spring, for that now was there added parching thirst
Unto all their affliction and manifold anguish; nor toiled they in vain
Wandering there; for lo, they came to the sacred plain
Where but yesterday Ladon the Serpent of Libya in Atlas’ garden
Kept watch o’er the Apples of Gold; and the Nymphs around their warden,
The Hesperides, rested never, chanting their lovely song.