Princess Medea, side by side, stealing through the streets of Colchis,
on their way to the sacred grove, in the center of which the Golden
Fleece was suspended to a tree. While they were crossing the pasture
ground, the brazen bulls came towards Jason, lowing, nodding their
heads, and thrusting forth their snouts, which, as other cattle do,
they, loved to have rubbed and caressed by a friendly hand. Their
fierce nature was thoroughly tamed; and, with their fierceness, the two
furnaces in their stomachs had likewise been extinguished, insomuch
that they probably enjoyed far more comfort in grazing and chewing
their cuds than ever before. Indeed, it had heretofore been a great
inconvenience to these poor animals, that, whenever they wished to eat
a mouthful of grass, the fire out of their nostrils had shrivelled
it up, before they could manage to crop it. How they contrived to
keep themselves alive is more than I can imagine. But now, instead of
emitting jets of flame and streams of sulphurous vapor, they breathed
the very sweetest of cow breath.
[Illustration: "WHAT IS IT"? ASKED JASON]
After kindly patting the bulls, Jason followed Medea's guidance into
the Grove of Mars, where the great oak trees, that had been growing
for centuries, threw so thick a shade that the moonbeams struggled
vainly to find their way through it. Only here and there a glimmer
fell upon the leaf-strewn earth, or now and then a breeze stirred the
boughs aside, and gave Jason a glimpse of the sky, lest, in that deep
obscurity, he might forget that there was one, overhead. At length,
when they had gone farther and farther into the heart of the duskiness,
Medea squeezed Jason's hand.
"Look yonder," she whispered. "Do you see it?"
Gleaming among the venerable oaks, there was a radiance, not like the
moonbeams, but rather resembling the golden glory of the setting sun.
It proceeded from an object, which appeared to be suspended at about a
man's height from the ground, a little farther within the wood.
"What is it?" asked Jason.
"Have you come so far to seek it," exclaimed Medea, "and do you not
recognize the meed of all your toils and perils, when it glitters
before your eyes? It is the Golden Fleece."
Jason went onward a few steps farther, and then stopped to gaze. O, how
beautiful it looked, shining with a marvellous light of its own, that
inestimable prize, which so many heroes had longed to behold, but had
perished in the quest of it, either by the perils of their voyage, or
by the fiery breath of the brazen-lunged bulls.
"How gloriously it shines!" cried Jason, in a rapture. "It has surely
been dipped in the richest gold of sunset. Let me hasten onward, and
take it to my bosom."
"Stay," said Medea, holding him back. "Have you forgotten what guards
it?"
To say the truth, in the joy of beholding the object of his desires,
the terrible dragon had quite slipped out of Jason's memory. Soon,
however, something came to pass, that reminded him what perils were
still to be encountered. An antelope, that probably mistook the yellow
radiance for sunrise, came bounding fleetly through the grove. He was
rushing straight towards the Golden Fleece, when suddenly there was
a frightful hiss, and the immense head and half the scaly body of
the dragon was thrust forth, (for he was twisted round the trunk of
the tree on which the fleece hung,) and seizing the poor antelope,
swallowed him with one snap of his jaws.
After this feat, the dragon seemed sensible that some other living
creature was within reach, on which he felt inclined to finish his
meal. In various directions he kept poking his ugly snout among the
trees, stretching out his neck a terrible long way, now here, now
there, and now close to the spot where Jason and the Princess were
hiding behind an oak. Upon my word, as the head came waving and
undulating through the air, and reaching almost within arm's length of
Prince Jason, it was a very hideous and uncomfortable sight. The gape
of his enormous jaws was nearly as wide as the gateway of the king's
palace.
"Well, Jason," whispered Medea, (for she was ill-natured, as all
enchantresses are, and wanted to make the bold youth tremble,) "what do
you think now of your prospect of winning the Golden Fleece?"
Jason answered only by drawing his sword, and making a step forward.
"Stay, foolish youth," said Medea, grasping his arm. "Do not you see
you are lost, without me as your good angel? In this gold box I have a
magic potion, which will do the dragon's business far more effectively
than your sword."
The dragon had probably heard the voices; for swift as lightning,
his black head and forked tongue came hissing among the trees again,
darting full forty feet at a stretch. As it approached, Medea tossed
the contents of the gold box right down the monster's wide-open
throat. Immediately, with an outrageous hiss and a tremendous
wriggle,--flinging his tail up to the tip-top of the tallest tree, and
shattering all its branches as it crashed heavily down again,--the
dragon fell at full length upon the ground, and lay quite motionless.
"It is only a sleeping potion," said the enchantress to Prince Jason.
"One always finds a use for these mischievous creatures, sooner or
later; so I did not wish to kill him outright. Quick! Snatch the prize,
and let us begone. You have won the Golden Fleece."
Jason caught the fleece from the tree, and hurried through the grove,
the deep shadows of which were illuminated as he passed by the golden
glory of the precious object that he bore along. A little way before
him, he beheld the old woman whom he had helped over the stream, with
her peacock beside her. She clapped her hands for joy, and beckoning
him to make haste, disappeared among the duskiness of the trees.
Espying the two winged sons of the North Wind, (who were disporting
themselves in the moonlight, a few hundred feet aloft,) Jason bade
them tell the rest of the Argonauts to embark as speedily as possible.
But Lynceus, with his sharp eyes, had already caught a glimpse of him,
bringing the Golden Fleece, although several stone walls, a hill, and
the black shadows of the grove of Mars, intervened between. By his
advice, the heroes had seated themselves on the benches of the galley,
with their oars held perpendicularly, ready to let fall into the water.
As Jason drew near, he heard the Talking Image calling to him with more
than ordinary eagerness, in its grave, sweet voice:--
"Make haste, Prince Jason! For your life, make haste!"
With one bound, he leaped aboard. At sight of the glorious radiance of
the Golden Fleece, the nine and forty heroes gave a mighty shout, and
Orpheus, striking his harp, sang a song of triumph, to the cadence of
which the galley flew over the water, homeward bound, as if careering
along with wings!
[Illustration]