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Likewise to Theseus and Iason, and the rest of that voiage. To the vnlucky sailer Vlisses, and to the banished Eneas, to Cyrus, Xerxes, and Alexander the Greate, to Hanniballe and Mithridate, kyng of Pontus, reported able to speake fiftie sondrie languages, to Antiochus, the greate and innumerable Princes of Roome, bothe of the Scipioes, Marii, and Lentuli.
But to come to the matter of voyages by sea, it is euident to all the world, what voyage Iason with certaine yong Grecian Princes made to Colchos in the Oriental Countries to winne the golden Fleece, as also the trauels by Hercules performed into Libia in the West partes, to winne the Aurea Mala, or golden apples of Hesperides, which notwithstanding neither for length, daunger, nor profite, are any thing comparable to the nauigations and voyages, that of late within the space of one hundreth years haue been performed and made into the East and West Indies, whereby in a manner there is not one hauen on the sea coast, nor any point of land in the whole world, but hath in time beene sought and founde out.
Even already had Argo fled forth from the Clashing Rocks, and the dread jaws of snowy Pontus, and was come to the land of the Bebryces, with her crew, dear children of the gods. There all the heroes disembarked, down one ladder, from both sides of the ship of Iason.
CONSCRIPSI: in the Origines. QUO: = ad quos; see n. on 12 fore unde. PELIAN: a mistake of Cicero's. It was not Pelias but his half-brother Aeson, father of Iason, whom Medea made young again by cutting him to pieces and boiling him in her enchanted cauldron. She, however, induced the daughters of Pelias to try the same experiment with their father; the issue, of course, was very different.
Now that story itself is a tissue of popular tales, still current in many distant lands, but all woven by the Greek genius into the history of Iason. The history of the return of Odysseus as told in the Odyssey, is in the same way, a tissue of old marchen. These must have existed for an unknown length of time before they gravitated into the cycle of the tale of Troy.
Blessed, methinks is the lot of him that sleeps, and tosses not, nor turns, even Endymion; and, dearest maiden, blessed I call Iason, whom such things befell, as ye that be profane shall never come to know. My head aches, but thou carest not. I will sing no more, but dead will I lie where I fall, and here may the wolves devour me. Sweet as honey in the mouth may my death be to thee.
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