king's ruthless command Jason is leading on the ship Argo in quest of
the fleece. It is ye truly. Even yet my soul by its divination knows
everything. Thanks I render to thee, O king, son of Leto, plunged in
bitter affliction though I be. I beseech you by Zeus the god of
suppliants, the sternest foe to sinful men, and for the sake of Phoebus
and Hera herself, under whose especial care ye have come hither, help
me, save an ill-fated man from misery, and depart not uncaring and
leaving me thus as ye see. For not only has the Fury set her foot on my
eyes and I drag on to the end a weary old age; but besides my other woes
a woe hangs over me--the bitterest of all. The Harpies, swooping down
from some unseen den of destruction ever snatch the food from my mouth.
And I have no device to aid me. But it were easier, when I long for a
meal, to escape my own thoughts than them, so swiftly do they fly
through the air. But if haply they _do_ leave me a morsel of food it
reeks of decay and the stench is unendurable, nor could any mortal bear
to draw near even for a moment, no, not if his heart were wrought of
adamant. But necessity, bitter and insatiate, compels me to abide and
abiding to put food in my cursèd belly. These pests, the oracle
declares, the sons of Boreas shall restrain. And no strangers are they
that shall ward them off if indeed I am Phineus who was once renowned
among men for wealth and the gift of prophecy, and if I am the son of my
father Agenor; and, when I ruled among the Thracians, by my bridal gifts
I brought home their sister Cleopatra to be my wife."

So spake Agenor's son; and deep sorrow seized each of the heroes, and
especially the two sons of Boreas. And brushing away a tear they drew
nigh, and Zetes spake as follows, taking in his own the hand of the
grief-worn sire:

"Unhappy one, none other of men is more wretched than thou, methinks.