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But there was Aison’s son, as a man in a nightmare dream,{460}

Struggling with deep dark thoughts, and as one distraught did he seem;

And Idas marked him askance, and he shouted in scoffing tone:

‘What thoughts to and fro in thine heart art thou turning, thou Aison’s son?

Speak out in our midst thy mind! Hath fear in thy spirit awoke

Overmastering thee—that thing which dazeth dastard folk?

Be witness my furious spear, wherewithal beyond others I win

Renown in the wars—nor is Zeus so present a helper therein,

Nor so mighty to save as my spear—that on thee no deadly bane

Shall light, nor shall any strife of thine hands be striven in vain,

While Idas attendeth thee, not though against thee a God should arise.{470}

Such a helper is this thou hast won from Arênê for thine emprise.’

He spake, and the brimming beaker with both hands lifted he up,

And the strong wine drank unmingled, and dashed with the dew of the cup

Were his lips and his swarthy cheeks: but a startled clamour broke

From all together; and openly Idmon rebuked him, and spoke: