SCENE III

_Chorus._ He rashly ventured who was first to make In his frail boat a pathway through the deep; 310 Who saw his native land behind him fade In distance blue; who to the raging winds Trusted his life, his slender keel between The paths of life and death. Our fathers dwelt In an unspotted age, and on the shore 315 Where each was born he lived in quietness, Grew old upon his father's farm content; With little rich, he knew no other wealth Than his own land afforded. None knew yet The changing constellations, nor could use 320 As guides the stars that paint the ether; none Had learned to shun the rainy Hyades, The Goat, or Northern Wain, that follows slow By old Boötes driven; none had yet To Boreas or Zephyr given names. 325 Rash Tiphys was the first to tempt the deep With spreading canvas; for the winds to write New laws; to furl the sail; or spread it wide When sailors longed to fly before the gale, And the red topsail fluttered in the breeze. 330 The world so wisely severed by the seas The pine of Thessaly united, bade The distant waters bring us unknown fears. The cursed leader paid hard penalty When the two cliffs, the gateway of the sea, 335 Moved as though smitten by the thunderbolt, And the imprisoned waters smote the stars. Bold Tiphys paled, and from his trembling hand Let fall the rudder; Orpheus' music died, His lyre untouched; the Argo lost her voice. 340 When, belted by her girdle of wild dogs, The maid of the Sicilian straits gives voice From all her mouths, who fears not at her bark? Who does not tremble at the witching song With which the Sirens calm the Ausonian sea? 345 The Thracian Orpheus' lyre had almost forced Those hinderers of ships to follow him! What was the journey's prize? The golden fleece, Medea, fiercer than the raging sea,-- Worthy reward for those first mariners! 350 The sea forgets its former wrath; submits To the new laws; and not alone the ship Minerva builded, manned by sons of kings, Finds rowers; other ships may sail the deep. Old metes are moved, new city walls spring up 355 On distant soil, and nothing now remains As it has been. The cold Araxes' stream The Indian drinks; the Persian quaffs the Rhine; And the times come with the slow-rolling years When ocean shall strike off the chains from earth, 360 And a great world be opened. Tiphys then, Another Tiphys, shall win other lands, And Thule cease to be earth's utmost bound.