O veteran, sprung from Æacus, thy spear
Chilled the Lapithæ with fear,
And from their hills the Centaurs drove.
When glory called, and prosperous gales
Swelled the Argo’s daring sails,
Intrepid didst thou pass that strait
Where ruin oft the crashing bark attends,
And ocean’s foam descends
From the Symplegades’ obstructing height.
Next didst thou land on perjured Ilion’s shore,
With Hercules illustrious son of Jove,
Then first its bulwarks streamed with gore:
Till crowned with fame a partner of his toil,
Europe again thou sought’st and Phthia’s frozen soil.