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
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