Next, eighty barks the Cretan king commands, Of Gnossus, Lyctus, and Gortyna’s bands; And those who dwell where Rhytion’s domes arise, Or white Lycastus glitters to the skies, Or where by Phæstus silver Jardan runs; Crete’s hundred cities pour forth all her sons. These march’d, Idomeneus, beneath thy care, And Merion, dreadful as the god of war.