Sing, fair-glancing Muses, of the sons of Zeus, the Tyndaridae, glorious
children of fair-ankled Leda, Castor the tamer of steeds and faultless
Polydeuces. These, after wedlock with Cronion of the dark clouds, she
bore beneath the crests of Taygetus, that mighty hill, to be the saviours
of earthly men, and of swift ships when the wintry breezes rush along the
pitiless sea. Then men from their ships call in prayer with sacrifice of
white lambs when they mount the vessel's deck. But the strong wind and
the wave of the sea drive down their ship beneath the water; when
suddenly appear the sons of Zeus rushing through the air with tawny
wings, and straightway have they stilled the tempests of evil winds, and
have lulled the waves in the gulfs of the white salt sea: glad signs are
they to mariners, an ending of their labour: and men see it and are glad,
and cease from weary toil. Hail ye, Tyndaridae, ye knights of swift
steeds, anon will I be mindful of you and of another lay.
[The Dioscuri coming to the feast of the Theoxenia. From a Vase in the
British Museum (Sixth Century B.C.): lang252.jpg]