Book 7
his two horns, and with horns his years. And now
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thin bleating was heard from within the pot;
and even while they wondered at the sound,
a lamb jumped out and frisking, ran away
to find some udder with its needed milk.
Amazed the daughters looked on and, now that
these promises had been performed, they urged
more eagerly their first request. Three times
Phoebus unyoked his steeds after their plunge
in Ebro's stream, and on the fourth night stars
shown brilliant on the dark foil of the sky,
and then the treacherous daughter of Aeetes
set some clear water over a hot fire
and put in it herbs of no potency.
And now a death-like sleep held the king down,
his body all relaxed, and with the king
his guards, a sleep which incantations with
the potency of magic words had given.
The sad king's daughters, as they had been bid,
were in his room, and with Medea stood
around his bed. “Why do you hesitate,”
Medea said. “You laggards, come and draw
your swords; let out his old blood that
I may refill his empty veins again
with young blood. In your hands your father's life
and youth are resting. You, his daughters, must
have love for him, and if the hopes you have
are not all vain, come, do your duty by
your father; drive out old age at the point
of your good weapons; and let out his blood
enfeebled—cure him with the stroke of iron.”
Spurred on by these words, as each one of them
was filial she became the leader in
the most unfilial act, and that she might
not be most wicked did the wicked deed.
Not one could bear to see her own blows, so
they turned their eyes away; and every face
averted so, they blindly struck him with
their cruel hands. The old man streaming with
his blood, still raised himself on elbow, and
