Medeia started when she heard, and cried, "Beware, O heroes, for here are the rocks of the Sirens. You must pass close by them, but those who listen to that song are lost."
Then Orpheus spoke, he, the king of all minstrels, "Let them match their song against mine;" so he caught up his lyre and began his magic song.
Now they could see the Sirens. Three fair maidens, sitting on the beach, beneath a rock red in the setting sun.
Slowly they sung and sleepily, and as the heroes listened the oars fell from their hands, and their heads dropped, and they closed their heavy eyes, and all their toil seemed foolishness, and they thought of their renown no more.
Then Medeia clapped her hands together and cried, "Sing louder, Orpheus, sing louder."
And Orpheus sang till his voice drowned the song of the Sirens, and the heroes caught their oars again and cried, "We will be men, and we will dare and suffer to the last."
And as Orpheus sang, they dashed their oars into the sea and kept time to his music as they fled fast away, and the Sirens' voices died behind them, in the hissing of the foam.
But when the Sirens saw that they were conquered, they shrieked for envy and rage and leapt into the sea, and were changed into rocks.
Then, as the Argonauts rowed on, they came to a fearful whirlpool, and they could neither go back nor forward, for the waves caught them and spun them round and round. While they struggled in the whirlpool, they saw near them on the other side of the strait a rock stand in the water—a rock smooth and slippery, and half way up a misty cave.