For the sacrifice: but when, for that wine they had none, they shed {1720}
Water over the brands on the altar glowing red,
Medea’s Phaeacian maidens beholding them could not refrain
The laughter their bosoms within any more; for that oxen slain
For the sacrifice in Alcinoüs’ halls had they seen full oft.
But the heroes with mirthful hearts cast back their railing, and scoffed
With gibing words: and so, like the flame’s light-flickering play,
Flashed taunts ’twixt these and contention of jesting. And unto this day,
From the old song-sport of the heroes, in that isle women fling
Even such light scoffs at the men when gifts of atonement they bring