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Telemachus, with Pisistratus, arrives at the palace of Menelaus, from whom he receives some fresh information concerning the return of the Greecians, and is in particular told on the authority of Proteus, that his father is detained by Calypso. The suitors, plotting against the life of Telemachus, lie in wait to intercept him in his return to Ithaca. Penelope being informed of his departure, and of their designs to slay him, becomes inconsolable, but is relieved by a dream sent to her from Minerva.

In hollow Lacedæmon’s spacious vale

Arriving, to the house they drove direct

Of royal Menelaus; him they found

In his own palace, all his num’rous friends

Regaling at a nuptial banquet giv’n

Both for his daughter and the prince his son.

His daughter to renown’d Achilles’ heir

He sent, to whom he had at Troy engaged

To give her, and the Gods now made her his.

With chariots and with steeds he sent her forth 10

To the illustrious city where the prince,

Achilles’ offspring, ruled the Myrmidons.

But to his son he gave a Spartan fair,

Alector’s daughter; from an handmaid sprang

That son to Menelaus in his age,

Brave Megapenthes; for the Gods no child

To Helen gave, made mother, once, of her

Who vied in perfect loveliness of form

With golden Venus’ self, Hermione.

Thus all the neighbour princes and the friends 20

Of noble Menelaus, feasting sat

Within his spacious palace, among whom

A sacred bard sang sweetly to his harp,

While, in the midst, two dancers smote the ground

With measur’d steps responsive to his song.

And now the Heroes, Nestor’s noble son

And young Telemachus arrived within

The vestibule, whom, issuing from the hall,

The noble Eteoneus of the train

Of Menelaus, saw; at once he ran 30

Across the palace to report the news

To his Lord’s ear, and, standing at his side,

In accents wing’d with haste thus greeted him.

Oh Menelaus! Heav’n descended Chief!

Two guests arrive, both strangers, but the race

Of Jove supreme resembling each in form.

Say, shall we loose, ourselves, their rapid steeds,

Or hence dismiss them to some other host?

But Menelaus, Hero golden-hair’d,

Indignant answer’d him. Boethe’s son! 40

Thou wast not, Eteoneus, heretofore,

A babbler, who now pratest as a child.

We have ourselves arrived indebted much

To hospitality of other men,

If Jove shall, even here, some pause at last

Of woe afford us. Therefore loose, at once,

Their steeds, and introduce them to the feast.

He said, and, issuing, Eteoneus call’d

The brisk attendants to his aid, with whom

He loos’d their foaming coursers from the yoke. 50

Them first they bound to mangers, which with oats

And mingled barley they supplied, then thrust

The chariot sidelong to the splendid wall.9 Themselves he, next, into the royal house Conducted, who survey’d, wond’ring, the abode Of the heav’n-favour’d King; for on all sides As with the splendour of the sun or moon The lofty dome of Menelaus blazed. Satiate, at length, with wonder at that sight, They enter’d each a bath, and by the hands 60 Of maidens laved, and oil’d, and cloath’d again With shaggy mantles and resplendent vests, Sat both enthroned at Menelaus’ side. And now a maiden charged with golden ew’r, And with an argent laver, pouring first Pure water on their hands, supplied them next With a bright table, which the maiden, chief In office, furnish’d plenteously with bread And dainties, remnants of the last regale. Then came the sew’r, who with delicious meats 70 Dish after dish, served them, and placed beside The chargers cups magnificent of gold, When Menelaus grasp’d their hands, and said. Eat and rejoice, and when ye shall have shared Our nuptial banquet, we will then inquire Who are ye both, for, certain, not from those Whose generation perishes are ye, But rather of some race of sceptred Chiefs Heav’n-born; the base have never sons like you. So saying, he from the board lifted his own 80 Distinguish’d portion, and the fatted chine Gave to his guests; the sav’ry viands they With outstretch’d hands assail’d, and when the force No longer now of appetite they felt, Telemachus, inclining close his head To Nestor’s son, lest others should his speech Witness, in whisper’d words him thus address’d. Dearest Pisistratus, observe, my friend! How all the echoing palace with the light Of beaming brass, of gold and amber shines 90 Silver and ivory! for radiance such Th’ interior mansion of Olympian Jove I deem. What wealth, how various, how immense Is here! astonish’d I survey the sight! But Menelaus, golden-hair’d, his speech O’erhearing, thus in accents wing’d replied My children! let no mortal man pretend Comparison with Jove; for Jove’s abode And all his stores are incorruptible. But whether mortal man with me may vie 100 In the display of wealth, or whether not, This know, that after many toils endured, And perilous wand’rings wide, in the eighth year I brought my treasures home. Remote I roved To Cyprus, to Phœnice, to the shores Of Ægypt; Æthiopia’s land I reach’d, Th’ Erembi, the Sidonians, and the coasts Of Lybia, where the lambs their foreheads shew At once with horns defended, soon as yean’d. There, thrice within the year the flocks produce, 110 Nor master, there, nor shepherd ever feels A dearth of cheese, of flesh, or of sweet milk Delicious, drawn from udders never dry. While, thus, commodities on various coasts Gath’ring I roam’d, another, by the arts Of his pernicious spouse aided, of life Bereav’d my brother privily, and when least He fear’d to lose it. Therefore little joy To me results from all that I possess. Your fathers (be those fathers who they may) 120 These things have doubtless told you; for immense Have been my suff’rings, and I have destroy’d A palace well inhabited and stored With precious furniture in ev’ry kind; Such, that I would to heav’n! I own’d at home Though but the third of it, and that the Greeks Who perish’d then, beneath the walls of Troy Far from steed-pastured Argos, still survived. Yet while, sequester’d here, I frequent mourn My slaughter’d friends, by turns I sooth my soul 130 With tears shed for them, and by turns again I cease; for grief soon satiates free indulged. But of them all, although I all bewail, None mourn I so as one, whom calling back To memory, I both sleep and food abhor. For, of Achaia’s sons none ever toiled Strenuous as Ulysses; but his lot Was woe, and unremitting sorrow mine For his long absence, who, if still he live, We know not aught, or be already dead. 140 Him doubtless, old Laertes mourns, and him Discrete Penelope, nor less his son Telemachus, born newly when he sail’d. So saying, he kindled in him strong desire To mourn his father; at his father’s name Fast fell his tears to ground, and with both hands He spread his purple cloak before his eyes; Which Menelaus marking, doubtful sat If he should leave him leisure for his tears, Or question him, and tell him all at large. 150 While thus he doubted, Helen (as it chanced) Leaving her fragrant chamber, came, august As Dian, goddess of the golden bow. Adrasta, for her use, set forth a throne, Alcippe with soft arras cover’d it, And Philo brought her silver basket, gift Of fair Alcandra, wife of Polybus, Whose mansion in Ægyptian Thebes is rich In untold treasure, and who gave, himself, Ten golden talents, and two silver baths 160 To Menelaus, with two splendid tripods Beside the noble gifts which, at the hand Of his illustrious spouse, Helen receiv’d; A golden spindle, and a basket wheel’d, Itself of silver, and its lip of gold. That basket Philo, her own handmaid, placed At beauteous Helen’s side, charged to the brim With slender threads, on which the spindle lay With wool of purple lustre wrapp’d around. Approaching, on her foot-stool’d throne she sat, 170 And, instant, of her royal spouse enquired. Know we, my Menelaus, dear to Jove! These guests of ours, and whence they have arrived? Erroneous I may speak, yet speak I must; In man or woman never have I seen Such likeness to another (wonder-fixt I gaze) as in this stranger to the son Of brave Ulysses, whom that Hero left New-born at home, when (shameless as I was) For my unworthy sake the Greecians sailed 180 To Ilium, with fierce rage of battle fir’d. Then Menelaus, thus, the golden-hair’d. I also such resemblance find in him As thou; such feet, such hands, the cast of eye10 Similar, and the head and flowing locks. And even now, when I Ulysses named, And his great sufferings mention’d, in my cause, The bitter tear dropp’d from his lids, while broad Before his eyes his purple cloak he spread. To whom the son of Nestor thus replied. 190 Atrides! Menelaus! Chief renown’d! He is in truth his son, as thou hast said, But he is modest, and would much himself Condemn, if, at his first arrival here, He should loquacious seem and bold to thee, To whom we listen, captived by thy voice, As if some God had spoken. As for me, Nestor, my father, the Gerenian Chief Bade me conduct him hither, for he wish’d To see thee, promising himself from thee 200 The benefit of some kind word or deed. For, destitute of other aid, he much His father’s tedious absence mourns at home. So fares Telemachus; his father strays Remote, and, in his stead, no friend hath he Who might avert the mischiefs that he feels. To whom the Hero amber-hair’d replied. Ye Gods! the offspring of indeed a friend Hath reach’d my house, of one who hath endured Arduous conflicts num’rous for my sake; 210 And much I purpos’d, had Olympian Jove Vouchsaf’d us prosp’rous passage o’er the Deep, To have receiv’d him with such friendship here As none beside. In Argos I had then Founded a city for him, and had rais’d A palace for himself; I would have brought The Hero hither, and his son, with all His people, and with all his wealth, some town Evacuating for his sake, of those Ruled by myself, and neighb’ring close my own. 220 Thus situate, we had often interchanged Sweet converse, nor had other cause at last Our friendship terminated or our joys, Than death’s black cloud o’ershadowing him or me. But such delights could only envy move Ev’n in the Gods, who have, of all the Greeks, Amerc’d him only of his wish’d return. So saying, he kindled the desire to weep In ev’ry bosom. Argive Helen wept Abundant, Jove’s own daughter; wept as fast 230 Telemachus and Menelaus both; Nor Nestor’s son with tearless eyes remain’d, Calling to mind Antilochus11 by the son12 Illustrious of the bright Aurora slain, Rememb’ring whom, in accents wing’d he said. Atrides! antient Nestor, when of late Conversing with him, we remember’d thee, Pronounced thee wise beyond all human-kind. Now therefore, let not even my advice Displease thee. It affords me no delight 240 To intermingle tears with my repast, And soon, Aurora, daughter of the dawn, Will tinge the orient. Not that I account Due lamentation of a friend deceased Blameworthy, since, to sheer the locks and weep, Is all we can for the unhappy dead. I also have my grief, call’d to lament One, not the meanest of Achaia’s sons, My brother; him I cannot but suppose To thee well-known, although unknown to me 250 Who saw him never;13 but report proclaims Antilochus superior to the most, In speed superior, and in feats of arms. To whom, the Hero of the yellow locks. O friend belov’d! since nought which thou hast said Or recommended now, would have disgraced A man of years maturer far than thine, (For wise thy father is, and such art thou, And easy is it to discern the son Of such a father, whom Saturnian Jove 260 In marriage both and at his birth ordain’d To great felicity; for he hath giv’n To Nestor gradually to sink at home Into old age, and, while he lives, to see His sons past others wise, and skill’d in arms) The sorrow into which we sudden fell Shall pause. Come—now remember we the feast; Pour water on our hands, for we shall find, (Telemachus and I) no dearth of themes For mutual converse when the day shall dawn. 270 He ended; then, Asphalion, at his word, Servant of glorious Menelaus, poured Pure water on their hands, and they the feast Before them with keen appetite assail’d. But Jove-born Helen otherwise, meantime, Employ’d, into the wine of which they drank A drug infused, antidote to the pains Of grief and anger, a most potent charm For ills of ev’ry name. Whoe’er his wine So medicated drinks, he shall not pour 280 All day the tears down his wan cheek, although His father and his mother both were dead, Nor even though his brother or his son Had fall’n in battle, and before his eyes. Such drugs Jove’s daughter own’d, with skill prepar’d, And of prime virtue, by the wife of Thone, Ægyptian Polydamna, giv’n her. For Ægypt teems with drugs, yielding no few Which, mingled with the drink, are good, and many Of baneful juice, and enemies to life. 290 There ev’ry man in skill medicinal Excels, for they are sons of Pæon all. That drug infused, she bade her servant pour The bev’rage forth, and thus her speech resumed. Atrides! Menelaus! dear to Jove! These also are the sons of Chiefs renown’d, (For Jove, as pleases him, to each assigns Or good or evil, whom all things obey) Now therefore, feasting at your ease reclin’d, Listen with pleasure, for myself, the while, 300 Will matter seasonable interpose. I cannot all rehearse, nor even name, (Omitting none) the conflicts and exploits Of brave Ulysses; but with what address Successful, one atchievement he perform’d At Ilium, where Achaia’s sons endured Such hardship, will I speak. Inflicting wounds Dishonourable on himself, he took A tatter’d garb, and like a serving-man Enter’d the spacious city of your foes. 310 So veil’d, some mendicant he seem’d, although No Greecian less deserved that name than he. In such disguise he enter’d; all alike Misdeem’d him; me alone he not deceived Who challeng’d him, but, shrewd, he turn’d away. At length, however, when I had myself Bathed him, anointed, cloath’d him, and had sworn Not to declare him openly in Troy Till he should reach again the camp and fleet, He told me the whole purpose of the Greeks. 320 Then, (many a Trojan slaughter’d,) he regain’d The camp, and much intelligence he bore To the Achaians. Oh what wailing then Was heard of Trojan women! but my heart Exulted, alter’d now, and wishing home; For now my crime committed under force Of Venus’ influence I deplored, what time She led me to a country far remote, A wand’rer from the matrimonial bed, From my own child, and from my rightful Lord 330 Alike unblemish’d both in form and mind. Her answer’d then the Hero golden-hair’d. Helen! thou hast well spoken. All is true. I have the talents fathom’d and the minds Of num’rous Heroes, and have travell’d far Yet never saw I with these eyes in man Such firmness as the calm Ulysses own’d; None such as in the wooden horse he proved, Where all our bravest sat, designing woe And bloody havoc for the sons of Troy. 340 Thou thither cam’st, impell’d, as it should seem, By some divinity inclin’d to give Victory to our foes, and with thee came Godlike Deiphobus. Thrice round about The hollow ambush, striking with thy hand Its sides thou went’st, and by his name didst call Each prince of Greece feigning his consort’s voice. Myself with Diomede, and with divine Ulysses, seated in the midst, the call Heard plain and loud; we (Diomede and I) 350 With ardour burn’d either to quit the horse So summon’d, or to answer from within. But, all impatient as we were, Ulysses Controul’d the rash design; so there the sons Of the Achaians silent sat and mute, And of us all Anticlus would alone Have answer’d; but Ulysses with both hands Compressing close his lips, saved us, nor ceased Till Pallas thence conducted thee again. Then thus, discrete, Telemachus replied. 360 Atrides! Menelaus! prince renown’d! Hard was his lot whom these rare qualities Preserved not, neither had his dauntless heart Been iron, had he scaped his cruel doom. But haste, dismiss us hence, that on our beds Reposed, we may enjoy sleep, needful now. He ceas’d; then Argive Helen gave command To her attendant maidens to prepare Beds in the portico with purple rugs Resplendent, and with arras, overspread, 370 And cover’d warm with cloaks of shaggy pile. Forth went the maidens, bearing each a torch, And spread the couches; next, the herald them Led forth, and in the vestibule the son Of Nestor and the youthful Hero slept, Telemachus; but in the interior house Atrides, with the loveliest of her sex Beside him, Helen of the sweeping stole. But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn, Glow’d in the East, then from his couch arose 380 The warlike Menelaus, fresh attir’d; His faulchion o’er his shoulders slung, he bound His sandals fair to his unsullied feet, And like a God issuing, at the side Sat of Telemachus, to whom he spake. Hero! Telemachus! what urgent cause Hath hither led thee, to the land far-famed Of Lacedæmon o’er the spacious Deep? Public concern or private? Tell me true. To whom Telemachus discrete replied. 390 Atrides! Menelaus! prince renown’d! News seeking of my Sire, I have arrived. My household is devour’d, my fruitful fields Are desolated, and my palace fill’d With enemies, who while they mutual wage Proud competition for my mother’s love, My flocks continual slaughter, and my beeves. For this cause, at thy knees suppliant, I beg That thou wouldst tell me his disastrous end, If either thou beheld’st with thine own eyes 400 His death, or from some wand’rer of the Greeks Hast heard it; for no common woes, alas! Was he ordain’d to share ev’n from the womb. Neither through pity or o’erstrain’d respect Flatter me, but explicit all relate Which thou hast witness’d. If my noble Sire E’er gratified thee by performance just Of word or deed at Ilium, where ye fell So num’rous slain in fight, oh recollect Now his fidelity, and tell me true! 410 Then Menelaus, sighing deep, replied. Gods! their ambition is to reach the bed Of a brave man, however base themselves. But as it chances, when the hart hath lay’d Her fawns new-yean’d and sucklings yet, to rest Within some dreadful lion’s gloomy den, She roams the hills, and in the grassy vales Feeds heedless, till the lion, to his lair Return’d, destroys her and her little-ones, So them thy Sire shall terribly destroy. 420 Jove, Pallas and Apollo! oh that such As erst in well-built Lesbos, where he strove With Philomelides, and threw him flat, A sight at which Achaia’s sons rejoic’d, Such, now, Ulysses might assail them all! Short life and bitter nuptials should be theirs. But thy enquiries neither indirect Will I evade, nor give thee false reply, But all that from the Antient of the Deep14 I have receiv’d will utter, hiding nought. 430 As yet the Gods on Ægypt’s shore detained Me wishing home, angry at my neglect To heap their altars with slain hecatombs. For they exacted from us evermore Strict rev’rence of their laws. There is an isle Amid the billowy flood, Pharos by name, In front of Ægypt, distant from her shore Far as a vessel by a sprightly gale Impell’d, may push her voyage in a day. The haven there is good, and many a ship 440 Finds wat’ring there from riv’lets on the coast. There me the Gods kept twenty days, no breeze Propitious granting, that might sweep the waves, And usher to her home the flying bark. And now had our provision, all consumed, Left us exhausted, but a certain nymph Pitying saved me. Daughter fair was she Of mighty Proteus, Antient of the Deep, Idothea named; her most my sorrows moved; She found me from my followers all apart 450 Wand’ring (for they around the isle, with hooks The fishes snaring roamed, by famine urged) And standing at my side, me thus bespake. Stranger! thou must be ideot born, or weak At least in intellect, or thy delight Is in distress and mis’ry, who delay’st To leave this island, and no egress hence Canst find, although thy famish’d people faint. So spake the Goddess, and I thus replied. I tell thee, whosoever of the Pow’rs 460 Divine thou art, that I am prison’d here Not willingly, but must have, doubtless, sinn’d Against the deathless tenants of the skies. Yet say (for the Immortals all things know) What God detains me, and my course forbids Hence to my country o’er the fishy Deep? So I; to whom the Goddess all-divine. Stranger! I will inform thee true. A seer Oracular, the Antient of the Deep, Immortal Proteus, the Ægyptian, haunts 470 These shores, familiar with all Ocean’s gulphs, And Neptune’s subject. He is by report My father; him if thou art able once To seize and bind, he will prescribe the course With all its measured distances, by which Thou shalt regain secure thy native shores. He will, moreover, at thy suit declare, Thou favour’d of the skies! what good, what ill Hath in thine house befall’n, while absent thou Thy voyage difficult perform’st and long. 480 She spake, and I replied—Thyself reveal By what effectual bands I may secure The antient Deity marine, lest, warn’d Of my approach, he shun me and escape. Hard task for mortal hands to bind a God! Then thus Idothea answer’d all-divine. I will inform thee true. Soon as the sun Hath climb’d the middle heav’ns, the prophet old, Emerging while the breezy zephyr blows, And cover’d with the scum of ocean, seeks 490 His spacious cove, in which outstretch’d he lies. The phocæ15 also, rising from the waves, Offspring of beauteous Halosydna, sleep Around him, num’rous, and the fishy scent Exhaling rank of the unfathom’d flood. Thither conducting thee at peep of day I will dispose thee in some safe recess, But from among thy followers thou shalt chuse The bravest three in all thy gallant fleet. And now the artifices understand 500 Of the old prophet of the sea. The sum Of all his phocæ numb’ring duly first, He will pass through them, and when all by fives He counted hath, will in the midst repose Content, as sleeps the shepherd with his flock. When ye shall see him stretch’d, then call to mind That moment all your prowess, and prevent, Howe’er he strive impatient, his escape. All changes trying, he will take the form Of ev’ry reptile on the earth, will seem 510 A river now, and now devouring fire; But hold him ye, and grasp him still the more. And when himself shall question you, restored To his own form in which ye found him first Reposing, then from farther force abstain; Then, Hero! loose the Antient of the Deep, And ask him, of the Gods who checks thy course Hence to thy country o’er the fishy flood. So saying, she plunged into the billowy waste. I then, in various musings lost, my ships 520 Along the sea-beach station’d sought again, And when I reach’d my galley on the shore We supp’d, and sacred night falling from heav’n, Slept all extended on the ocean-side. But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn, Look’d rosy forth, pensive beside the shore I walk’d of Ocean, frequent to the Gods Praying devout, then chose the fittest three For bold assault, and worthiest of my trust. Meantime the Goddess from the bosom wide 530 Of Ocean rising, brought us thence four skins Of phocæ, and all newly stript, a snare Contriving subtle to deceive her Sire. Four cradles in the sand she scoop’d, then sat Expecting us, who in due time approach’d; She lodg’d us side by side, and over each A raw skin cast. Horrible to ourselves Proved that disguise whom the pernicious scent Of the sea-nourish’d phocæ sore annoy’d; For who would lay him down at a whale’s side? 540 But she a potent remedy devised Herself to save us, who the nostrils sooth’d Of each with pure ambrosia thither brought Odorous, which the fishy scent subdued. All morning, patient watchers, there we lay; And now the num’rous phocæ from the Deep Emerging, slept along the shore, and he At noon came also, and perceiving there His fatted monsters, through the flock his course Took regular, and summ’d them; with the first 550 He number’d us, suspicion none of fraud Conceiving, then couch’d also. We, at once, Loud-shouting flew on him, and in our arms Constrain’d him fast; nor the sea-prophet old Call’d not incontinent his shifts to mind. First he became a long-maned lion grim, Then dragon, panther then, a savage boar, A limpid stream, and an o’ershadowing tree. We persevering held him, till at length The Antient of the Deep, skill’d as he is 560 In wiles, yet weary, question’d me, and said. Oh Atreus’ son, by what confed’rate God Instructed liest thou in wait for me, To seize and hold me? what is thy desire? So He; to whom thus answer I return’d. Old Seer! thou know’st; why, fraudful, should’st thou ask? It is because I have been prison’d long Within this isle, whence I have sought in vain Deliv’rance, till my wonted courage fails. Yet say (for the Immortals all things know) 570 What God detains me, and my course forbids Hence to my country o’er the fishy Deep? So I; when thus the old one of the waves. But thy plain duty16 was to have adored Jove, first, in sacrifice, and all the Gods, That then embarking, by propitious gales Impell’d, thou might’st have reach’d thy country soon. For thou art doom’d ne’er to behold again Thy friends, thy palace, or thy native shores, Till thou have seen once more the hallow’d flood 580 Of Ægypt, and with hecatombs adored Devout, the deathless tenants of the skies. Then will they speed thee whither thou desir’st. He ended, and my heart broke at his words, Which bade me pass again the gloomy gulph To Ægypt; tedious course, and hard to atchieve! Yet, though in sorrow whelm’d, I thus replied. Old prophet! I will all thy will perform. But tell me, and the truth simply reveal; Have the Achaians with their ships arrived 590 All safe, whom Nestor left and I, at Troy? Or of the Chiefs have any in their barks, Or in their followers’ arms found a dire death Unlook’d for, since that city’s siege we closed? I spake, when answer thus the God return’d. Atrides, why these questions? Need is none That thou should’st all my secrets learn, which once Reveal’d, thou would’st not long dry-eyed remain. Of those no few have died, and many live; But leaders, two alone, in their return 600 Have died (thou also hast had war to wage) And one, still living, roams the boundless sea. Ajax,17 surrounded by his galleys, died. Him Neptune, first, against the bulky rocks The Gyræ drove, but saved him from the Deep; Nor had he perish’d, hated as he was By Pallas, but for his own impious boast In frenzy utter’d that he would escape The billows, even in the Gods’ despight. Neptune that speech vain-glorious hearing, grasp’d 610 His trident, and the huge Gyræan rock Smiting indignant, dash’d it half away; Part stood, and part, on which the boaster sat When, first, the brainsick fury seiz’d him, fell, Bearing him with it down into the gulphs Of Ocean, where he drank the brine, and died. But thy own brother in his barks escaped That fate, by Juno saved; yet when, at length, He should have gain’d Malea’s craggy shore, Then, by a sudden tempest caught, he flew 620 With many a groan far o’er the fishy Deep To the land’s utmost point, where once his home Thyestes had, but where Thyestes’ son Dwelt then, Ægisthus. Easy lay his course And open thence, and, as it pleased the Gods, The shifted wind soon bore them to their home. He, high in exultation, trod the shore That gave him birth, kiss’d it, and, at the sight, The welcome sight of Greece, shed many a tear. Yet not unseen he landed; for a spy, 630 One whom the shrewd Ægisthus had seduced By promise of two golden talents, mark’d His coming from a rock where he had watch’d The year complete, lest, passing unperceived, The King should reassert his right in arms. Swift flew the spy with tidings to this Lord, And He, incontinent, this project framed Insidious. Twenty men, the boldest hearts Of all the people, from the rest he chose, Whom he in ambush placed, and others charged 640 Diligent to prepare the festal board. With horses, then, and chariots forth he drove Full-fraught with mischief, and conducting home The unsuspicious King, amid the feast Slew him, as at his crib men slay an ox. Nor of thy brother’s train, nor of his train Who slew thy brother, one survived, but all, Welt’ring in blood together, there expired. He ended, and his words beat on my heart As they would break it. On the sands I sat 650 Weeping, nor life nor light desiring more. But when I had in dust roll’d me, and wept To full satiety, mine ear again The oracle of Ocean thus address’d. Sit not, O son of Atreus! weeping here Longer, for remedy can none be found; But quick arising, trial make, how best Thou shalt, and soonest, reach thy home again. For either him still living thou shalt find, Or ere thou come, Orestes shall have slain 660 The traytor, and thine eyes shall see his tomb. He ceas’d, and I, afflicted as I was, Yet felt my spirit at that word refresh’d, And in wing’d accents answer thus return’d. Of these I am inform’d; but name the third Who, dead or living, on the boundless Deep Is still detain’d; I dread, yet wish to hear. So I; to whom thus Proteus in return. Laertes’ son, the Lord of Ithaca— Him in an island weeping I beheld, 670 Guest of the nymph Calypso, by constraint Her guest, and from his native land withheld By sad necessity; for ships well-oar’d, Or faithful followers hath he none, whose aid Might speed him safely o’er the spacious flood. But, Menelaus dear to Jove! thy fate Ordains not thee the stroke of death to meet In steed-fam’d Argos, but far hence the Gods Will send thee to Elysium, and the earth’s Extremest bounds; (there Rhadamanthus dwells, 680 The golden-hair’d, and there the human kind Enjoy the easiest life; no snow is there, No biting winter, and no drenching show’r, But zephyr always gently from the sea Breathes on them to refresh the happy race) For that fair Helen is by nuptial bands Thy own, and thou art son-in-law of Jove. So saying, he plunged into the billowy waste, I then, with my brave comrades to the fleet Return’d, deep-musing as I went, and sad. 690 No sooner had I reach’d my ship beside The ocean, and we all had supp’d, than night From heav’n fell on us, and, at ease reposed Along the margin of the sea, we slept. But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn, Look’d rosy forth, drawing our galleys down Into the sacred Deep, we rear’d again The mast, unfurl’d the sail, and to our seats On board returning, thresh’d the foamy flood. Once more, at length, within the hallow’d stream 700 Of Ægypt mooring, on the shore I slew Whole hecatombs, and (the displeasure thus Of the immortal Gods appeased) I reared To Agamemnon’s never-dying fame A tomb, and finishing it, sail’d again With such a gale from heaven vouchsafed, as sent My ships swift-scudding to the shores of Greece. But come—eleven days wait here, or twelve A guest with me, when I will send thee hence Nobly, and honour’d with illustrious gifts, 710 With polish’d chariot, with three princely steeds, And with a gorgeous cup, that to the Gods Libation pouring ever while thou liv’st From that same cup, thou may’st remember me. Him, prudent, then answer’d Telemachus. Atrides, seek not to detain me here Long time; for though contented I could sit The year beside thee, nor regret my home Or parents, (so delightful thy discourse Sounds in my ear) yet, even now, I know, 720 That my attendants to the Pylian shore Wish my return, whom thou thus long detain’st. What boon soe’er thou giv’st me, be it such As I may treasur’d keep; but horses none Take I to Ithaca; them rather far Keep thou, for thy own glory. Thou art Lord Of an extended plain, where copious springs The lotus, herbage of all savours, wheat, Pulse, and white barley of luxuriant growth. But Ithaca no level champaign owns, 730 A nursery of goats, and yet a land Fairer than even pastures to the eye. No sea-encircled isle of ours affords Smooth course commodious and expanse of meads, But my own Ithaca transcends them all! He said; the Hero Menelaus smiled, And stroaking tenderly his cheek, replied. Dear youth! thy speech proclaims thy noble blood. I can with ease supply thee from within With what shall suit thee better, and the gift 740 Of all that I possess which most excels In beauty, and the noblest shall be thine. I give thee, wrought elaborate, a cup Itself all silver, bound with lip of gold. It is the work of Vulcan, which to me The Hero Phædimus imparted, King Of the Sidonians, when on my return His house received me. That shall be thy own. Thus they conferr’d; and now the busy train Of menials culinary,18 at the gate 750 Enter’d of Menelaus, Chief renown’d; They brought him sheep, with heart-ennobling wine, While all their wives, their brows with frontlets bound, Came charg’d with bread. Thus busy they prepared A banquet in the mansion of the King. Meantime, before Ulysses’ palace gate The suitors sported with the quoit and spear On the smooth area, customary scene Of all their strife and angry clamour loud. There sat Antinoüs, and the godlike youth 760 Eurymachus, superior to the rest And Chiefs among them, to whom Phronius’ son Noëmon drawing nigh, with anxious mien Question’d Antinoüs, and thus began. Know we, Antinoüs! or know we not, When to expect Telemachus at home Again from Pylus? in my ship he went, Which now I need, that I may cross the sea To Elis, on whose spacious plain I feed Twelve mares, each suckling a mule-colt as yet 770 Unbroken, but of which I purpose one To ferry thence, and break him into use. He spake, whom they astonish’d heard; for him They deem’d not to Nelëian Pylus gone, But haply into his own fields, his flocks To visit, or the steward of his swine. Then thus, Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, spake. Say true. When sail’d he forth? of all our youth, Whom chose he for his followers? his own train Of slaves and hirelings? hath he pow’r to effect 780 This also? Tell me too, for I would learn— Took he perforce thy sable bark away, Or gav’st it to him at his first demand? To whom Noëmon, Phronius’ son, replied. I gave it voluntary; what could’st thou, Should such a prince petition for thy bark In such distress? Hard were it to refuse. Brave youths (our bravest youths except yourselves) Attend him forth; and with them I observed Mentor embarking, ruler o’er them all, 790 Or, if not him, a God; for such he seem’d. But this much moves my wonder. Yester-morn I saw, at day-break, noble Mentor here, Whom shipp’d for Pylus I had seen before. He ceas’d; and to his father’s house return’d; They, hearing, sat aghast. Their games meantime Finish’d, the suitors on their seats reposed, To whom Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, next, Much troubled spake; a black storm overcharged His bosom, and his vivid eyes flash’d fire. 800 Ye Gods, a proud exploit is here atchieved, This voyage of Telemachus, by us Pronounced impracticable; yet the boy In downright opposition to us all, Hath headlong launched a ship, and, with a band Selected from our bravest youth, is gone. He soon will prove more mischievous, whose pow’r Jove wither, ere we suffer its effects! But give me a swift bark with twenty rowers, That, watching his return within the streights 810 Of rocky Samos and of Ithaca, I may surprise him; so shall he have sail’d To seek his Sire, fatally for himself. He ceased and loud applause heard in reply, With warm encouragement. Then, rising all, Into Ulysses’ house at once they throng’d. Nor was Penelope left uninformed Long time of their clandestine plottings deep, For herald Medon told her all, whose ear Their councils caught while in the outer-court 820 He stood, and they that project framed within. Swift to Penelope the tale he bore, Who as he pass’d the gate, him thus address’d. For what cause, herald! have the suitors sent Thee foremost? Wou’d they that my maidens lay Their tasks aside, and dress the board for them? Here end their wooing! may they hence depart Never, and may the banquet now prepared, This banquet prove your last!19 who in such throngs Here meeting, waste the patrimony fair 830 Of brave Telemachus; ye never, sure, When children, heard how gracious and how good Ulysses dwelt among your parents, none Of all his people, or in word or deed Injuring, as great princes oft are wont, By favour influenc’d now, now by disgust. He no man wrong’d at any time; but plain Your wicked purpose in your deeds appears, Who sense have none of benefits conferr’d. Then Medon answer’d thus, prudent, return’d. 840 Oh Queen! may the Gods grant this prove the worst. But greater far and heavier ills than this The suitors plan, whose counsels Jove confound! Their base desire and purpose are to slay Telemachus on his return; for he, To gather tidings of his Sire is gone To Pylus, or to Sparta’s land divine. He said; and where she stood, her trembling knees Fail’d under her, and all her spirits went. Speechless she long remain’d, tears filled her eyes, 850 And inarticulate in its passage died Her utt’rance, till at last with pain she spake. Herald! why went my son? he hath no need On board swift ships to ride, which are to man His steeds that bear him over seas remote. Went he, that, with himself, his very name Might perish from among mankind for ever? Then answer, thus, Medon the wise return’d. I know not whether him some God impell’d Or his own heart to Pylus, there to hear 860 News of his Sire’s return, or by what fate At least he died, if he return no more. He said, and traversing Ulysses’ courts, Departed; she with heart consuming woe O’erwhelm’d, no longer could endure to take Repose on any of her num’rous seats, But on the threshold of her chamber-door Lamenting sat, while all her female train Around her moan’d, the antient and the young, Whom, sobbing, thus Penelope bespake. 870 Hear me, ye maidens! for of women born Coeval with me, none hath e’er received Such plenteous sorrow from the Gods as I, Who first my noble husband lost, endued With courage lion-like, of all the Greeks The Chief with ev’ry virtue most adorn’d, A prince all-excellent, whose glorious praise Through Hellas and all Argos flew diffused. And now, my darling son—him storms have snatch’d Far hence inglorious, and I knew it not. 880 Ah treach’rous servants! conscious as ye were Of his design, not one of you the thought Conceived to wake me when he went on board. For had but the report once reach’d my ear, He either had not gone (how much soe’er He wish’d to leave me) or had left me dead. But haste ye—bid my antient servant come, Dolion, whom (when I left my father’s house He gave me, and whose office is to attend My num’rous garden-plants) that he may seek 890 At once Laertes, and may tell him all, Who may contrive some remedy, perchance, Or fit expedient, and shall come abroad To weep before the men who wish to slay Even the prince, godlike Ulysses’ son. Then thus the gentle Euryclea spake, Nurse of Telemachus. Alas! my Queen! Slay me, or spare, deal with me as thou wilt, I will confess the truth. I knew it all. I gave him all that he required from me. 900 Both wine and bread, and, at his bidding, swore To tell thee nought in twelve whole days to come, Or till, enquiry made, thou should’st thyself Learn his departure, lest thou should’st impair Thy lovely features with excess of grief. But lave thyself, and, fresh attired, ascend To thy own chamber, there, with all thy train, To worship Pallas, who shall save, thenceforth, Thy son from death, what ills soe’er he meet. Add not fresh sorrows to the present woes 910 Of the old King, for I believe not yet Arcesias’ race entirely by the Gods Renounced, but trust that there shall still be found Among them, who shall dwell in royal state, And reap the fruits of fertile fields remote. So saying, she hush’d her sorrow, and her eyes No longer stream’d. Then, bathed and fresh attired, Penelope ascended with her train The upper palace, and a basket stored With hallow’d cakes off’ring, to Pallas pray’d. 920 Hear matchless daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d! If ever wise Ulysses offer’d here The thighs of fatted kine or sheep to thee, Now mindful of his piety, preserve His darling son, and frustrate with a frown The cruelty of these imperious guests! She said, and wept aloud, whose earnest suit Pallas received. And now the spacious hall And gloomy passages with tumult rang And clamour of that throng, when thus, a youth, 930 Insolent as his fellows, dared to speak. Much woo’d and long, the Queen at length prepares To chuse another mate,20 and nought suspects The bloody death to which her son is doom’d. So he; but they, meantime, themselves remain’d Untaught, what course the dread concern elsewhere Had taken, whom Antinoüs thus address’d. Sirs! one and all, I counsel you, beware Of such bold boasting unadvised; lest one O’erhearing you, report your words within. 940 No—rather thus, in silence, let us move To an exploit so pleasant to us all. He said, and twenty chose, the bravest there, With whom he sought the galley on the shore, Which drawing down into the deep, they placed The mast and sails on board, and, sitting, next, Each oar in order to its proper groove, Unfurl’d and spread their canvas to the gale. Their bold attendants, then, brought them their arms, And soon as in deep water they had moor’d 950 The ship, themselves embarking, supp’d on board, And watch’d impatient for the dusk of eve. But when Penelope, the palace stairs Remounting, had her upper chamber reach’d, There, unrefresh’d with either food or wine, She lay’d her down, her noble son the theme Of all her thoughts, whether he should escape His haughty foes, or perish by their hands. Num’rous as are the lion’s thoughts, who sees, Not without fear, a multitude with toils 960 Encircling him around, such num’rous thoughts Her bosom occupied, till sleep at length Invading her, she sank in soft repose. Then Pallas, teeming with a new design, Set forth an airy phantom in the form Of fair Iphthima, daughter of the brave Icarius, and Eumelus’ wedded wife In Pheræ. Shaped like her the dream she sent Into the mansion of the godlike Chief Ulysses, with kind purpose to abate 970 The sighs and tears of sad Penelope. Ent’ring the chamber-portal, where the bolt Secured it, at her head the image stood, And thus, in terms compassionate, began. Sleep’st thou, distress’d Penelope? The Gods, Happy in everlasting rest themselves, Forbid thy sorrows. Thou shalt yet behold Thy son again, who hath by no offence Incurr’d at any time the wrath of heav’n. To whom, sweet-slumb’ring in the shadowy gate 980 By which dreams pass, Penelope replied. What cause, my sister, brings thee, who art seen Unfrequent here, for that thou dwell’st remote? And thou enjoin’st me a cessation too From sorrows num’rous, and which, fretting, wear My heart continual; first, my spouse I lost With courage lion-like endow’d, a prince All-excellent, whose never-dying praise Through Hellas and all Argos flew diffused; And now my only son, new to the toils 990 And hazards of the sea, nor less untaught The arts of traffic, in a ship is gone Far hence, for whose dear cause I sorrow more Than for his Sire himself, and even shake With terror, lest he perish by their hands To whom he goes, or in the stormy Deep; For num’rous are his foes, and all intent To slay him, ere he reach his home again. Then answer thus the shadowy form return’d. Take courage; suffer not excessive dread 1000 To overwhelm thee, such a guide he hath And guardian, one whom many wish their friend, And ever at their side, knowing her pow’r, Minerva; she compassionates thy griefs, And I am here her harbinger, who speak As thou hast heard by her own kind command. Then thus Penelope the wise replied. Oh! if thou art a goddess, and hast heard A Goddess’ voice, rehearse to me the lot Of that unhappy one, if yet he live 1010 Spectator of the cheerful beams of day, Or if, already dead, he dwell below. Whom answer’d thus the fleeting shadow vain. I will not now inform thee if thy Lord Live, or live not. Vain words are best unspoken. So saying, her egress swift beside the bolt She made, and melted into air. Upsprang From sleep Icarius’ daughter, and her heart Felt heal’d within her, by that dream distinct Visited in the noiseless night serene. 1020 Meantime the suitors urged their wat’ry way, To instant death devoting in their hearts Telemachus. There is a rocky isle In the mid sea, Samos the rude between And Ithaca, not large, named Asteris. It hath commodious havens, into which A passage clear opens on either side, And there the ambush’d Greeks his coming watch’d.