Book 9
The water, till in middle sands they found
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One copious fountain; but its brimming wave
Was thronged with serpents which it hardly held,
And thirsty asps were pressing on the marge.
But when the chieftain saw that speedy fate
Was on the host, if they should leave the well
Untasted, ' Vain,' he cried, your fear of death.
' Drink, nor delay: 'tis from the threatening tooth
" Men draw their deaths, and fatal from the fang
' Issues the juice if mingled with the blood;
' The cup is harmless.' Then he sipped the fount,
Still doubting, and in all the Libyan waste
There only was he first to touch the stream.
Why fertile thus in death the pestilent air
Of Libya, what poison in her soil
Her several nature mixed, my care to know
Has not availed: but from the days of old
A fabled story has deceived the world.
Far on her limits, where the burning shore
Admits the ocean fervid from the sun
Plunged in its waters, lay Medusa's fields
Untilled; nor forests shaded, nor the plough
Furrowed the soil, which by its mistress' gaze
Was hardened into stone: Phorcus, her sire.
Malevolent nature from her body first
Drew forth these noisome pests; first from her jaws
Issued the sibilant rattle of serpent tongues;
Clustered around her head the poisonous brood
Like to a woman's hair, wreathed on her neck
Which gloried in their touch; their glittering heads
Advanced towards her; and her tresses kempt
Dripped down with viper's venom. This alone
Thou hast, accursed one, which men can see
Unharmed; for who upon that gaping mouth
Looked and could dread? Whom suffered she to die
Who saw her face? He rushed upon his fate
And ere he feared was stricken to the death.
Perished the limbs while living, and the soul
Grew stiff and stark ere yet it fled the frame.
Men have been frenzied by the Furies' locks,
