mountains, and green Donysa, Olearos, and snowy Paros,
and the Cyclades sprinkled over the waves, and seas thick 10
sown with islands. Up rises the seaman’s shout amid
strain and struggle—each encourages his comrades,
‘For Crete and our forefathers, ho!’ A wind gets up
from the stern and escorts us on our way, and at length we
are wafted to the Curetes’ time-honoured shore. 15
“And now the site is chosen, and I am rearing a city’s
walls and calling it Pergamia: the new nation is proud
to bear the name of the old: I bid them love hearth and