The Argonauts

24 ARGONAUTAE Languish, O sea of sleep! Young moon! Dream on above in maiden swoon! None daring to invoke the gales To shake our sea, and swell our sails. Not song, but silence, were a boon— Save for this tune. Round capes grown darker as night falls, We see at last the splendid walls That ridge the bay; the town lies there Lighted (the temple’s hour for prayer) At grave harmonious intervals. The grand voice of some seaman calls, Just as the picture fades, aware How it was fair. JASON. A thousand victories bring us to the shore Whence we set out: look forth! The people come Moving with lights about the anchorage To greet the heroes of the Golden Fleece. My Queen! Medea! Welcome unto Greece! EXPLICIT ACTUS QUARTUS.