121Rumour flies that the leader Idomeneus has been driven out and has left his father's realm, that the shores of Crete are deserted, its houses empty of enemies and its dwellings standing abandoned. 124We leave the harbour of Ortygia and fly over the sea, past Naxos, its ridges loud with Bacchic revels, and green Donysa, Olearos, and snowy Paros, and the Cyclades scattered over the water, and we thread the straits sown thick with lands. 128The sailors' shout goes up in varied rivalry; 129my comrades urge one another on: 'Let us make for Crete and our forefathers!' 130A wind rising astern follows us as we go, and at last we glide to the ancient shores of the Curetes.
132So eagerly I build the walls of the city I longed for, and call it Pergamea, and urge my people, glad at the name, to love their hearths and raise a citadel high with buildings.