(ll. 247-250) Thus they spake here and there throughout the
city; but the women often raised their hands to the sky in prayer
to the immortals to grant a return, their hearts' desire. And
one with tears thus lamented to her fellow:

(ll. 251-260) "Wretched Alcimede, evil has come to thee at last
though late, thou hast not ended with splendour of life. Aeson
too, ill-fated man! Surely better had it been for him, if he
were lying beneath the earth, enveloped in his shroud, still
unconscious of bitter toils. Would that the dark wave, when the
maiden Helle perished, had overwhelmed Phrixus too with the ram;
but the dire portent even sent forth a human voice, that it might
cause to Alcimede sorrows and countless pains hereafter."

(ll. 261-277) Thus the women spake at the departure of the
heroes. And now many thralls, men and women, were gathered
together, and his mother, smitten with grief for Jason. And a
bitter pang seized every woman's heart; and with them groaned the
father in baleful old age, lying on his bed, closely wrapped
round. But the hero straightway soothed their pain, encouraging
them, and bade the thralls take up his weapons for war; and they
in silence with downcast looks took them up. And even as the
mother had thrown her arms about her son, so she clung, weeping
without stint, as a maiden all alone weeps, falling fondly on the
neck of her hoary nurse, a maid who has now no others to care for
her, but she drags on a weary life under a stepmother, who
maltreats her continually with ever fresh insults, and as she
weeps, her heart within her is bound fast with misery, nor can
she sob forth all the groans that struggle for utterance; so
without stint wept Alcimede straining her son in her arms, and in