And as the heroes listened, the oars fell from their hands, and their heads drooped on their breasts, and they closed their heavy eyes; and they dreamed of bright still gardens, and of slumbers under murmuring pines, till all their toil seemed foolishness, and they thought of their renown no more.

Then one lifted his head suddenly, and cried, “What use in wandering forever?  Let us stay here and rest awhile.”  And another, “Let us row to the shore, and hear the words they sing.”  And another, “I care not for the words, but for the music.  They shall sing me to sleep, that I may rest.”

And Butes, the son of Pandion, the fairest of all mortal men, leapt out and swam toward the shore, crying, “I come, I come, fair maidens, to live and die here, listening to your song.”

Then Medeia clapped her hands together, and cried, “Sing louder, Orpheus, sing a bolder strain; wake up these hapless sluggards, or none of them will see the land of Hellas more.”

Then Orpheus lifted his harp, and crashed his cunning hand across the strings; and his music and his voice rose like a trumpet through the still evening air; into the air it rushed like thunder, till the rocks rang and the sea; and into their souls it rushed like wine, till all hearts beat fast within their breasts.

And he sung the song of Perseus, how the Gods led him over land and sea, and how he slew the loathly Gorgon, and won himself a peerless bride; and how he sits now with the Gods upon Olympus, a shining star in the sky, immortal with his immortal bride, and honoured by all men below.

So Orpheus sang, and the Sirens, answering each other across the golden sea, till Orpheus’s voice drowned the Sirens, and the heroes caught their oars again.

And they cried:  “We will be men like Perseus, and we will dare and suffer to the last.  Sing us his song again, brave Orpheus, that we may forget the Sirens and their spell.”

And as Orpheus sang, they dashed their oars into the sea, and kept time to his music, as they fled fast away; and the Sirens’ voices died behind them, in the hissing of the foam along their wake.

But Butes swam to the shore, and knelt down before the Sirens, and cried, “Sing on! sing on!” But he could say no more; for a charmed sleep came over him, and a pleasant humming in his ears; and he sank all along upon the pebbles, and forgot all heaven and earth, and never looked at that sad beach around him, all strewn with the bones of men.

Then slowly rose up those three fair sisters, with a cruel smile upon their lips; and slowly they crept down toward him, like leopards who creep upon their prey; and their hands were like the talons of eagles, as they stept across the bones of their victims to enjoy their cruel feast.

But fairest Aphrodite saw him from the highest Idalian peak, and she pitied his youth and his beauty, and leapt up from her golden throne; and like a falling star she cleft the sky, and left a trail of glittering light, till she stooped to the Isle of the Sirens, and snatched their prey from their claws.  And she lifted Butes as he lay sleeping, and wrapt him in a golden mist; and she bore him to the peak of Lilybaeum; and he slept there many a pleasant year.