The Fleece

                                            The Fleece

As I once hunted Yours undaunted in the weedy marsh of Lerna
So in my uneasy dreams you now haunt me sevenfold, Echidna.
For we are not those who departed Argos.
And I wake wondering if our new mission mightn’t be bogus
Despite the omens we were read;
If our so-sayer might not for entrails tea leaves read,
Push coming to shove.
Whether we should the wide world further rove
In all honesty I cannot answer
But we from our overt herculean bravado do not swerve
In purpose though the fleece in hand may turn to dross
And our ill-founded faith result in shameful loss
And with it even such fame as we, as any in all Erebus had hoped for!
...That Cerberus the headless Hydra's charry corpse may but thrice lay at our door….