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And oxen wont the fires to blow

From cheeks that rage with constant fret,

While thundering' on alternate feet,

The soil with brazen hoofs they beat—

He only their rough spirit broke,

And led obedient to the yoke.

Then straight a cubit's length impress'd

Of furrow on earth's yielding breast,

And thus he spoke: "In this high deed

If the ship's ruler shall succeed,

The fleece immortal let him bear,

Irradiate with its golden hair."

He said: his robe of saffron hue

Aside the youthful Jason threw,

And trusting in immortal aid,

His arduous enterprise essay'd.

On him the fire could work no harm,

Awed by his potent hostess' charm.

Then dragging on the rustic load,

Their necks and well-ribb'd haunches bound

With thongs compulsive thrown around,

He urged the sharp and bitter goad;

Then labour'd on with manly strength,

Completing soon his measured length.

O'erwhelm'd at first in speechless wo,

Æetes view'd the arduous deed;

Then admiration's transports flow,

And praises unrepress'd succeed.

To the brave youth their friendly hands

Extend the social train,

His brow they crown with verdant bands,

And greet in courteous strain.

Straight the sun's wondrous offspring show'd

Where was the shining skin bestow'd,

Extended high on Phryxus' sword,

A gift to war's impetuous lord.