On the isle of Elektra the daughter of Atlas, that there they might learn
The mystic rites whose unveiling is not soul-daunting nor stern,
And safelier so might voyage over the chill grey sea:—
No more will I speak of the Hidden Things—but a blessing be
Upon that same isle, and the Gods there dwelling, to whom belong {920}
Those rites whereof it is not vouchsafed that we tell in song.
And from thence o’er the Black Sea’s depths unfathomed they sped with the oar,
To leftward keeping the land of Thrace, and to rightward the shore
Of Imbros overagainst it; and, even as sank the sun,
Unto the long sea-foreland of Chersonese they won.