in the glens of the snow mountains; and to the fair land of Hermione, where dwelt the most righteous of all nations: and to the gates of the world below, and to the dwelling place of dreams.
And at last Ancaios shouted, "Endure a little while, brave friends, the worst is surely past; for I can see the pure west wind ruffle the water, and hear the roar of ocean on the sands. So raise up the mast, and set the sail, and face what comes like men."
Then out spoke the magic bough: "Ah, would that I had perished long ago, and been whelmed by the dread blue rocks beneath the fierce swell of the Euxine! Better so, than to wander forever, disgraced by the guilt of my princes; for the blood of Absyrtus still tracks me, and woe follows hard upon woe. And now some dark horror will clutch me, if I come near the Isle of lerne. Unless you will cling to the land, and sail southward and southward forever, I shall wander beyond the Atlantic, to the ocean which has no shore."
Then they blest the magic bough, and sailed southward along the land. But ere they could pass lerne, the land of mists and storms, the wild wind came down dark and roaring, and caught the sail, and strained the ropes. And away they drove twelve nights, on the wide wild western sea, through the foam, and over the rollers, while they saw neither sun nor stars. And they cried again: "We shall perish, for we know not where we are. We are lost in the dreary damp darkness, and cannot tell north from south."
