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
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