echoing rivers with their nymphs and all the land animals came to be. He sang of how, in the beginning, Ophion and Ocean’s daughter Eurynome held sway over snowy Olympus, and of how, through force of hand, he ceded rule to Cronus and she to Rhea, and they fell into the waves of the Ocean. These two in the meantime ruled over the blessed Titan gods, while Zeus, still a child and still thinking childish thoughts, dwelt in the Dictaean cave, and the earthborn Cyclopes had not yet armed him with the thunderbolt, thunder, and lightning, for these give Zeus his glory.

Thus he sang, and hushed his lyre along with his divinely beautiful voice. But they, although he had ceased, still leaned their heads forward longingly, one and all, with intent ears, immobile with enchantment—such was the spell of the song that he left within them. Not long thereafter they mixed libations for Zeus, as is right, and stood and poured them on the victims’ burning tongues, and turned their thoughts to sleeping through the night.

But when radiant Dawn with shining eyes beheld the steep cliffs of Pelion, and in fair weather the headlands were being washed as the sea was stirred by a breeze, then Tiphys awoke and immediately roused his comrades to board the ship and ready the oars. The harbor of Pagasae let out a terrible shout, and so did the Pelian Argo itself, urging them to depart, for in it was fastened a divine beam