So, when he had spoken, Jason threw off his saffron robe and, trusting in the god, took hold of the work. The fire did not shake him, by the instructions of the stranger-woman of every drug. He drew the plough to him, bound the oxen's necks in the harness of constraint, drove the relentless goad into their huge-ribbed bodies, and the mighty man finished the measure set for him. And Aeetes cried out, though in a grief that had no voice, amazed at his strength.

Jason throws off his saffron robe and takes hold of the work, trusting in the god. The fire does not touch him, and Pindar gives the reason in three words: παμφαρμάκου ξείνας ἐφετμαῖς, "by the instructions of the stranger-woman of every drug." LSJ's entry for παμφάρμακος cites only this line, where it describes Medea, and Pindar does not need to say her name. Then he drives the oxen through the whole measure Aeetes set, and Aeetes cries out, ἴϋξεν, in a grief that has no voice. The verb is ἰύζω, the cry from which the dictionaries derive ἴυγξ, the wryneck of line 214. Whether Pindar meant the echo the text cannot tell us, but it is there: the bird that turned Medea's heart, and the shout of the king who has just been beaten.