And thence they sailed on through the deeps of
Sardinia, and past the Ausonian Islands, and the capes of the Tyrrhenian
shore, till they came to a flowery island, upon a still, bright summer's
eve. And as they neared it, slowly and wearily, they heard sweet songs
upon the shore. But when Medeia heard it, she started, and cried:
"Beware, all heroes, for these are the rocks of the Sirens. You must
pass close by them, for there is no other channel; but those who listen
to that song are lost."
Then Orpheus spoke, the king of all minstrels: "Let them match their
song against mine. I have charmed stones, and trees, and dragons, how
much more the hearts of man!" So he caught up his lyre, and stood upon
the poop, and began his magic song.
And now they could see the Sirens, on Anthemousa, the flowery isle;
three fair maidens sitting on the beach, beneath a red rock in the
setting sun, among beds of crimson poppies and golden asphodel. Slowly
they sung and sleepily, with silver voices, mild and clear, which stole
over the golden waters, and into the hearts of all the heroes, in spite
of Orpheus's song.
And all things stayed around and listened; the gulls sat in white lines
along the rocks; on the beach great seals lay basking, and kept time
with lazy heads; while silver shoals of fish came up to hearken, and
whispered as they broke the shining calm.
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