Silent we sat, till all agreed at last
To go to where they were, albeit forbid.
And there we see a Hellene galley's hull 1345
With ranks of oar-blades fringed, sea-plashing wings,
And fifty seamen at the tholes thereof
Grasping their oars: and from their bonds set free
Beside the galley's stern the young men stood.
The prow with poles some steadied, some hung up 1350
The anchor at the catheads, some in haste,
The while they haled the hawsers through their hands,
Dropped ladders for the strangers to the sea.
But we spared not, so soon as we beheld
Their cunning wiles: we grasped the stranger-maid, 1355
The hawser-bands, and strove to wrench the helms[1]
Out through the stern-ports of the stately ship.
And rang our shouts:—"By what right do ye steal
Images from our land and priestesses?
Who and whose son art thou, to kidnap her?" 1360
But he, "Orestes I, her brother, son
Of Agamemnon, know thou. She I bear
Hence is my sister whom I lost from home."
Yet no less clung we to the stranger-maid,
And would have forced to follow us to thee, 1365
Whence came these fearful buffets on my cheeks.
For in their hands steel weapons had they none,
Nor we; but there were clenched fists hailing blows,
And those young champions twain dashed spurning feet,
As javelins swift, on belly and rib of us. 1370
Scarce had we grappled, ere our limbs waxed faint;
And marked with ghastly scars of strife we fled
Unto the cliffs, some bearing gory weals
- ↑ Broad-bladed steering-oars, one on each side of the stern.
