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No story I unfold of public woes,
Nor bear advices of impending foes:
Peace the blest land, aud joys incessant crown:
Of all this happy realm, I grieve alone.
For my lost sire continual sorrows spring,
The great, the good; your father and your king.
Yet more; our house from its foundation bows,
Our foes are powerful, and your sons the foes:
Hither, unwelcome to the queen they come;
Why seek they not the rich Icarian dome?
If she must wed, from other hands require
The dowry: is Telemachus her sire?

Yet through my court the noise of revel rings,
And wastes the wise frugality of kings.
Scarce all my herds their luxury suffice;
Scarce all my wine their midnight hours supplies.
Safe in my youth, in riot still they grow,
Nor in the helpless orphan dread a foe.

But cone it will, the time when manhood grants
More powerful advocates than vain complaints.
Approach that hour! insufferable wrong
Cries to the gods, and vengeance sleeps too long.
Rise then, ye peers! with virtuous anger rise;
Your fame revere, but most the avenging skies.
By all the deathless powers that reign above,
By righteous Themis and by thundering Jove
(Themis, who gives to councils, or denies
Success; and humbles, or confirms the wise),
Rise in my aid! suffice the tears that flow
For my lost sire, nor add new woe to woe.
If e'er he bore the sword to strengthen ill,
Or, having power to wrong, betray'd the will,
On me, on me your kindled wrath assuage,
And bid the voice of lawless riot rage.
If ruin to your royal race ye doom,

Be you the spoilers, and our wealth consume.
Then might ye hope redress from juster laws,
And raise all Ithaca to aid our cause:

But while your sons commit the unpunish'd wrong,
You make the arm of violence too strong.

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With thee, the bowl we drain, Indulge the feast, 50 Till righteous heaven reclaim her stubborn breast. What though from pole to pole resounds her name! The son's destruction waits the mother's fame: For, till she leaves thy court, it is decreed, Thy bowl to empty, and thy flock to bleed. While yet he speaks, Telemachus replies: Even nature starts, and what ye ask denies. Thus, shall I thus repay a mother's cares, Who gave me life, and nursed my infant years? While sad on foreign shores Ulysses treads, 60 Or glides a ghost with unapparent shades; How to Icarius in the bridal hour Shall I, by waste undone, refund the dower? How from my father should I vengeance dread! How would my mother curse my hated head! 65 And while in wrath to vengeful fiends she cries, How from their hell would vengeful fiends arise! Abhorr'd by all, accursed my name would grow, The earth's disgrace, and human-kind my foe. If this displease, why urge ye here your stay? 70 Haste from the court, ye spoilers, haste away: Waste in wild riot what your land allows, There ply the early feast, and late carouse. But if to honour lost, 'tis still decreed For

you my bowl shall flow, my flocks shall bleed; 75 Judge and assert my right, impartial Jove! By him, and all the immortal host above (A sacred oath,) if heaven the power supply, Vengeance I vow, and for your wrongs ye die.

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With that, two eagles from a mountain's height 80 By Jove's command direct their rapid flight; Swift they descend, with wing to wing conjoin'd, Stretch their broad plumes, and float upon the wind. Above the assembled peers they wheel on high, And clang their wings, and hovering beat the sky; 85 With ardent eyes the rival train they threat, And shrieking loud, denounce approaching fate. They cuff, they tear; their cheeks and necks they rend, And from their plumes huge drops of blood descend: 180 Then, sailing o'er the domes and towers, they fly Full toward the east, and mount into the sky.

While thus he spoke, with rage and grief he frown'd,
And dash'd the imperial sceptre to the ground.
The big round tear hung trembling in his eye:
The synod grieved, and gave a pitying sigh,
Then silent sate-at length Antinous burns
With haughty rage, and sternly thus returns.

O insolence of youth! whose tongue affords
Such railing eloquence, and war of words
Studious thy country's worthies to defame,
Thy erring voice displays thy mother's shame.
Elusive of the bridal day she gives

Foud hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives.
Bid not the sun, through heaven's wide azure roll'd,

For three long years the royal fraud behold?

While she, laborious in delusion spread

The spacious loom, and mix'd the various thread: Where as to life the wondrous figures rise,

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95 Prescient he view'd the aërial tracks, and drew
A sure presage from every wing that flew.
Ye sons (he cried) of Ithaca, give ear,
Hear all but chiefly you, oh rivals! hear.
Destruction sure o'er all your heads impends;
Ulysses comes, and death his steps attends.
Nor to the great alone is death decreed;
We and our guilty Ithaca must bleed.

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Why cease we then the wrath of heaven to stay?
Be humbled all, and lead, ye great! the way.
For lo! my words no fancied woes relate:
I speak from science, and the voice is fate.

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Thus spoke the inventive queen, with artful sighs: "Though cold in death Ulysses breathes no more, "Cease yet awhile to urge the bridal hour: "Cease, till to great Laertes I bequeath "A task of grief, his ornaments of death. "Lest when the Fates his royal ashes claim, "The Grecian matrons taint my spotless fame; "When he, whom living mighty realms obey'd, "Shall want in death a shroud to grace his shade." Thus she at once the generous train complies, Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue's fair disguise. The work she plied; but, studious of delay, By night reversed the labours of the day. While thrice the sun his annual journey made, The conscious lamp the midnight fraud survey'd ; Unheard, unseen, three years her arts prevail; The fourth, her maid unfolds the amazing tale. We saw as unperceived we took our stand, The backward labours of her faithless hand. Then urged, she perfects her illustrious toils; A wondrous monument of female wiles!

But you, oh peers! and thou, oh prince! give ear (I speak aloud, that every Greek may hear); Dismiss the queen: and if her sire approves, Let him espouse her to the peer she loves: Bid instant to prepare the bridal train, Nor let a race of princes wait in vain. Though with a grace divine her soul is blest, And all Minerva breathes within her breast, In wondrous arts than woman more renown'd, And more than woman with deep wisdom crown'd; Though Tyro nor Mycenè match her name, Nor great Alcmena (the proud boast of fame ;) Yet thus by heaven adorn'd, by heaven's decree She shines with fatal excellence, to thee:

When great Ulysses sought the Phrygian shores To shake with war proud Ilion's lofty towers, Deeds then undone my faithful tongue foretold:

110 Heaven seal'd my words, and you those deeds behold. I see (I cried) his woes, a countless train;

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I see his friends o'erwhelm'd beneath the main;
How twice ten years from shore to shore he roams: 205
Now twice ten years are past, and now he comes
To whom Eurymachus-Fly, dotard, fly;

With thy wise dreams, and fables of the sky.

Go prophesy at home, thy sons advise :

Here thou art sage in vain-I better read the skies. 210
Unnumber'd birds glide through the aërial way,

120 Vagrants of air, and unforeboding stray.

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Cold in the tomb, or in the deeps below,
Ulysses lies: oh wert thou laid as low!
Then would that busy head no broils suggest,
Nor fire to rage Telemachus's breast.
From him some bribe thy venal tongue requires,
And interest, not the god, thy voice inspires.
His guideless youth, if thy experienced age
Mislead fallacious into idle rage,

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Vengeance deserved thy malice shall repress,

130 And but augment the wrongs thou wouldst redress: Telemachus may bid the queen repair

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To great Icarius, whose paternal care
Will guide her passion, and reward her choice,
With wealthy dower, and bridal gifts of price.
Till she retires, determined we remain,
And both the prince and augur threat in vain:
His pride of words, and thy wild dream of fate,
Move not the brave, or only move their hate.
Threat on, O prince! elude the bridal day,
140 Threat on, till all thy stores in waste decay.

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True, Greece affords a train of lovely dames,
In wealth and beauty worthy of our flames:
But never from this nobler suit we cease;
For wealth and beauty less than virtue please.

And lo, with speed we plough the watry way; My power shall guard thee, and my hand convey: 235 The winged vessel studious I prepare,

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To whom the youth: Since then in vain I tell
My numerous woes, in silence let them dwell.
But heaven, and all the Greeks, have heard my wrongs:
To heaven, and all the Greeks, redress belongs.
Yet this I ask (nor be it ask'd in vain,)
A bark to waft me o'er the rolling main,
The realms of Pyle and Sparta to explore,
And seek my royal sire from shore to shore:
If, or to fame his doubtful fate be known,
Or to be learn'd from oracles alone.
If yet he lives, with patience I forbear,
Till the fleet hours restore the circling year:
But if already wandering in the train
Of empty shades; I measure back the main,
Plant the fair column o'er the mighty dead,
And yield his consort to the nuptial bed.

He ceased; and while abash'd the peers attend,
Mentor arose, Ulysses' faithful friend:

[When fierce in arms he sought the scenes of war,

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My friend (he cried) my palace be thy care;

Years roll'd on years my godlike sire decay,

Guard thou his age, and his behests obey."]

Stern as he rose, he cast his eyes around,

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Through seas and realms companion of thy care.
Thou to the court ascend: and to the shores
(When night advances) bear the naval stores;
Bread, that decaying man with strength supplies,
And generous wine, which thoughtful sorrow flies, 320
Meanwhile the mariners, by my command,
Shall speed aboard a valiant chosen band.
Wide o'er the bay, by vessel vessel rides :
The best I choose to waft thee o'er the tides.

She spoke to his high dome the prince returns, 335
And, as he moves, with royal anguish mourns.
Twas riot all, among the lawless train;
Boar bled by boar, and goat by goat lay slain.
Arrived, his hand the gay Antinous press'd,

250 And thus deriding, with a smile address'd.

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Grieve not, oh daring prince! that noble heart:
Ill suits gay youth the stern heroic part.
Indulge the genial hour, unbend thy soul,
Leave thought to age, and drain the flowing bowl.
Studions to ease thy grief, our care provides
The bark, to waft thee o'er the swelling tides.
Is this, returns the prince, for mirth a time?
When lawless gluttons riot, mirth's a crime;
The luscious wines, dishonour'd, lose their taste;

That flash'd with rage; and as he spoke, he frown'd. 260 The song is noise, and impious is the feast.

O never, never more, let king be just,

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Be mild in power, or faithful to his trust!

Let tyrants govern with an iron rod,

Oppress, destroy, and be the scourge of God;
Since he who like a father held his reign,
So soon forgot, was just and mild in vain!
True, while my friend is grieved, his griefs I share;
Yet now the rivals are my smallest care:
They, for the mighty mischiefs they devise,
Ere long shall pay their forfeit lives the price.
But against you, ye Greeks! ye coward train!
Gods! how my soul is moved with just disdain !
Dumb ye all stand, and not one tongue affords
His injured prince the little aid of words.

While yet he spoke, Leocritus rejoin'd:
O pride of words, and arrogance of mind!
Wouldst thou to rise in arms the Greeks advise?
Join all your powers! in arms, ye Greeks, arise!
Yet would your powers in vain our strength oppose:
The valiant few o'ermatch an host of foes.
Should great Ulysses stern appear in arms,
While the bowl circles, and the banquet warms;
Though to his breast his spouse with transport flies,
Torn from her breast, that hour, Ulysses dies.
But hence retreating to your domes repair.
To arm the vessel, Mentor! be thy care,
And Halitherses! thine: be each his friend
Ye loved the father: go, the son attend.
But yet, I trust, the boaster means to stay
Safe in the court, nor tempt the watry way.

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Suffice it to have spent with swift decay
The wealth of kings, and made my youth a prey.
But now the wise instructions of the sage,
And manly thoughts inspired by manly age,
Teach me to seek redress for all my woe,
Here, or in Pyle-in Pyle, or here, your foe.
Deny your vessels, ye deny in vain;
A private voyager I pass the main.
Free breathe the winds, and free the billows flow,
270 And where on earth I live, I live your foe.

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He spoke and frown'd, nor longer deign'd to stay, Sternly his hand withdrew, and strode away. Meantime, o'er all the dome, they quaff, they feast, Derisive taunts were spread from guest to guest, 275 And each in jovial mood his mate addrest.

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Then, with a rushing sound, the assembly bend,
Diverse their steps: the rival rout ascend
The royal dome while sad the prince explores
The neighbouring main, and sorrowing treads the shores.
There, as the waters o'er his hands he shed,
The royal suppliant to Minerva pray'd:

O goddess! who descending from the skies
Vouchsafed thy presence to my wondering eyes,
By whose commands the raging deeps I trace,
And seek my sire through storms and rolling seas!
Hear from thy heavens above, oh warrior maid!
Descend once more, propitious to my aid.
Without thy presence, vain is thy command:
Greece, and the rival train, thy voice withstand.
Indulgent to his prayer, the goddess took
Sage Mentor's form, and thus like Mentor spoke
O prince, in early youth divinely wise,
Born, the Ulysses of thy age to rise!
If to the son the father's worth descends,
O'er the wide waves success thy ways attends :
To tread the walks of death he stood prepared;
And what he greatly thought, he nobly dared.
Were not wise sons descendent of the wise,
And did not heroes from brave heroes rise,
Vain were my hopes: few sons attain the praise
Of their great sires, and most their sires disgrace.
But since thy veins paternal virtue fires,

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Tremble ye not, oh friends! and coward fly,
Doom'd by the stern Telemachus to die?
To Pyle or Sparta to demand supplies,
Big with revenge, the mighty warrior flies:
Or comes from Ephyré with poisons fraught!
And kills us all in one tremendous draught!

Or who can say (his gamesome mate replies)
But, while the dangers of the deeps he tries,
He, like his sire, may sink deprived of breath,
And punish us unkindly by his death?
What mighty labours would he then create,
To seize his treasures, and divide his state,
The royal palace to the queen convey,
Or him she blesses in the bridal day!

Meantime the lofty room the prince surveys,
Where lay the treasures of the Ithacian race.
Here ruddy brass and gold refulgent blazed;
There polish'd chests embroider'd vestures graced:
Here jars of oil breathed forth a rich perfume;
There casks of wine in rows adorn'd the dome
(Pure flavorous wine, by gods in bounty given,
And worthy to exalt the feasts of heaven.)
Untouch'd they stood, till his long labours o'er,
The great Ulysses reach'd his native shore.
300 A double strength of bars secured the gates:
Fast by the door the wise Euryclea waits:
Euryclea, who, great Ops! thy lineage sharea
And watch'd all night, all day a faithful guard.

To whom the prince: 0 thou, whose guardian care

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305 Nursed the most wretched king that breathes the air! 395
Untouch'd and sacred may these vessels stand,
Till great Ulysses views his native land.
But by thy care twelve urns of wine be fill'd;
Next these in worth, and firm those urns be seal'd;

310 And twice ten measures of the choicest flour
Prepared, ere yet descends the evening hour,
For when the favouring shades of night arise,
And peaceful slumbers close my mother's eyes,
Me from our coast shall spreading sails convey,
315 To seek Ulysses through the watry way.

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Then stay, my child! storms beat, and rolls the main,
Oh, beat those storms, and roll the seas in vain! 415
Far hence (replied the prince) thy fears be driven :
Heaven calls me forth; these counsels are of Heaven.
But, by the powers that hate the perjured, swear,
To keep my voyage from the royal ear,
Nor uncompell'd the dangerous truth betray,
'Till twice six times descends the lamp of day:
Lest the sad tale a mother's life impair,
And grief destroy what time awhile would spare.
Thus he. The matron with uplifted eyes
Attests the all-seeing sovereign of the skies.
Then studious she prepares the choicest flour,
The strength of wheat, and wines an ample store.
While to the rival train the prince returns,
The martial goddess with impatience burns;
Like thee, Telemachus, in voice and size,
With speed divine from street to street she flies
She bids the mariners prepared, to stand,
When night descends, embodied on the strand,
Then to Noëmon swift she runs, she flies,
And asks a bark: the chief a bark supplies.

And now, declining with his sloping wheels,
Down sunk the sun behind the western hills.
The goddess shoved the vessel from the shores,
And stow'd within its womb the naval stores.
Full in the openings of the spacious main
It rides; and now descends the sailor-train.
Next to the court impatient of delay,
With rapid step the goddess urged her way:
There every eye with slumberous chains she bound,
And dash'd the flowing goblet to the ground.
Drowsy they rose, with heavy fumes opprest,
Reel'd from the palace, and retired to rest.

Then thus, in Mentor's reverend form array'd.
Spoke to Telemachus the martial maid.
Lo! on the seas, prepared the vessel stands
The impatient mariner thy speed demands.
Swift as she spoke, with rapid pace she leads;
The footsteps of the deity he treads.

Swift to the shore they move along the strand
The ready vessel rides, the sailors ready stand.

He bids them bring their stores; the attending
Load the tall bark, and launch into the main.
The prince and goddess to the stern ascend;
To the strong stroke at once the rowers bend.
Full from the west she bids fresh breezes blow;
The sable billows foam and roar below.
'The chief his orders gives: the obedient band
With due observance wait the chief's command:
With speed the mast they rear, with speed unbind
The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind.
High o'er the roaring waves the spreading sails
Bow the tall mast, and swell before the gales;
The crooked keel the parting surge divides,

And to the stern retreating roll the tides.

BOOK III.

THE sacred sun, above the waters raised,
Through Heaven's eternal, brazen portals blazed;
And wide o'er earth diffused his cheering ray,
To gods and men to give the golden day.

420 Now on the coast of Pyle the vessel falls
Before old Neleus' venerable walls.
There suppliant to the monarch of the flood,
At nine green theatres the Pylians stood.
Each held five hundred (a deputed train,)
425 At each, nine oxen on the sand lay slain
They taste the entrails, and the altars load
With smoking thighs, an offering to the god.
Full for the port the Ithacensians stand,
And furl their sails, and issue on the land.
430 Telemachus already press'd the shore;
Not first, the power of wisdom march'd before,
And ere the sacrificing throng he join'd,
Admonish'd thus his well-attending mind.
Proceed, my son! this youthful shame expel;
435 An honest business never blush to tell.
To learn what fates thy wretched sire detain,
We pass'd the wide, immeasurable main.
Meet then the senior far renown'd for sense,
With reverend awe, but decent confidence:
440 Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies;
And sure he will: for wisdom never lies.

Oh tell me, Mentor! tell me, faithful guide
(The youth with prudent modesty replied,)
How shall I meet, or how accost the sage,
Unskill'd in speech, not yet mature of age?
Awful the approach, and hard the task appears,
To question wisely men of riper years.

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To whom the martial goddess thus rejoin'd.
Search, for some thoughts, thy own suggesting mind;
450 And others, dictated by heavenly power,
Shall rise spontaneous in the needful hour.
For naught unprosperous shall thy ways attend,
Born with good omens, and with Heaven thy friend.
She spoke, and led the way with swiftest speed:
As swift, the youth pursued the way she led ;
And join'd the band before the sacred fire,
Where sate, encompass'd with his sons, the sire.
The youth of Pylos, some on pointed wood
Transfix'd the fragments, some prepared the food:
460 In friendly throngs they gather to embrace

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Their unknown guests, and at the banquet place.
Pisistratus was first to grasp their hands,
And spread soft hides upon the yellow sands;
Along the shore the illustrious pair he led,
Where Nestor sate with youthful Thrasymed.
To each a portion of the feast he bore,
And held the golden goblet foaming o'er;
Then first approaching to the elder guest,
The latent goddess in these words addrest.

And now they ship their oars, and crown with wine 470 Whoe'er thou art, whom fortune brings to keep
The holy goblet to the powers divine:
Imploring all the gods that reign above,
But chief the blue-eyed progeny of Jove.

Thus all the night they stem the liquid way, And end their voyage with the morning ray.

BOOK III.

These rites of Neptune, monarch of the deep,
Thee first it fits, oh stranger! to prepare
The due libation and the solemn prayer:
Then give thy friend to shed the sacred wine:

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475 Though inuch thy younger, and his years like mine, 60

He too, I deem, implores the power divine:

For all mankind alike require their grace,

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ARGUMENT.

The Interview of Telemachus and Nestor Telemachus, guided by Pallas in the shape of Mentor, arrives in the morning at Pylos, where Nestor and his sons are sacrificing on the sea-shore to Neptune. Telemachus declares the occasion of his coming; and Nestor relates what passed in their return from Troy, how their fleets were separated, and he never since heard of Ulysses. They discourse concerning the death of Agamemnon, the revenge of Orestes, and the injuries of the suitors. Nestor advises him to go to Sparta, and inquire further of Menelaus. The sacrifice ending with the night, Minerva vanishes from them in the form of an eagle: Telemachus is lodged in the palace. The next morning they sacrifice a bullock to Minerva; and Telemachus proceeds on his journey to Sparta, attended by Pisistratus. The scene lies on the sea-shore of Pylos

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Thus she: and having paid the rite divine,
Gave to Ulysses' son the rosy wine.
Suppliant he pray'd. And now the victims drest
They draw, divide, and celebrate the feast.
The banquet done, the narrative old man,
Thus mild, the pleasing conference began.

Now, gentle guests! the genial banquet o'er,
It fits to ask ye, what your native shore,
And whence your race? on what adventure, say
Thus far you wander through the watry way?
Relate, if business, or the thirst of gain,
Engage your journey o'er the pathless main:
Where savage pirates seek through seas unknown
The lives of others, venturous of their own

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Urged by the precepts by the goddess given,
And ill'd with confidence infused from Heaven,
The youth, whom Pallas destined to be wise
And famed among the sons of men, replies.
Inquirest thou, father! from what coast we came?
(Oh grace and glory of the Grecian name!)
From where high Ithaca o'erlooks the floods,
Brown with o'er-arching shades and pendent woods,
Us to these shores our filial duty draws,
A private sorrow, not a public cause.
My sire I seek, where'er the voice of fame
Has told the glories of his noble name,

The great Ulysses; famed from shore to shore
For valour much, for hardy suffering more.
Long time with thee before proud Ilion's wall
In arms he fought: with thee beheld her fall.
Of all the chiefs, this hero's fate alone
Has Jove reserved, unheard of, and unknown;
Whether in fields by hostile fury slain,
Or sunk by tempests in the gulfy main?
Of this to learn, oppress'd with tender fears,
Lo, at thy knee his suppliant son appears.
If or thy certain eye, or curious ear,

Have learnt his fate, the whole dark story clear:
And, oh! whate'er heaven destined to betide,
Let neither flattery sooth, nor pity hide.
Prepared I stand: he was but born to try
The lot of man; to suffer, and to die.
Oh then, if ever through the ten years' war
The wise, the good Ulysses claim'd thy care;
If e'er he join'd thy council, or thy sword,
True in his deed, and constant to his word;
Far as thy mind through backward time can see,
Search all thy stores of faithful memory:
"Tia sacred truth I ask, and ask of thee.

To him experienced Nestor thus rejoin'd:
O friend! what sorrows dost thou bring to mind!
Shall I the long laborious scene review,
And open all the wounds of Greece anew?
What toils by sea! where dark in quest of prey
Dauntless we roved; Achilles led the way:
What toils by land; where mix'd in fatal fight
Such numbers fell, such heroes sunk to night:
There Ajax great, Achilles there the brave,
There wise Patroclus, till an early grave:
There too my son-ah, once my best delight,
Once swift of foot, and terrible in fight,
In whom stern courage with soft virtue join'd,
A faultless body and a blameless mind:
Antilochus-What more can I relate?
How trace the tedious series of our fate?
Not added years on years my task could close,
The long historian of my country's woes:
Back to thy native islands might'st thou sail,
And leave half-heard the melancholy tale.
Nine painful years on that detested shore ;
What stratagems we form'd, what toils we bore!
Still labouring on, till scarce at last we found
Great Jove propitious, and our conquest crown'd
Far o'er the rest thy mighty father shined,
In wit, in prudence, and in force of mind.
Art thou the son of that illustrious sire?
With joy I grasp thee, and with love admire.
So like your voices, and your words so wise,
Who finds thee younger must consult his eyes.
Thy sire and I were one; nor varied aught
In public sentence, or in private thought;
Alike to council or the assembly came,
With equal souls, and sentiments the same.
But when (by wisdom won) proud Ilion burn'd,
And in their ships the conquering Greeks return'd.
"Twas God's high will the victors to divide,
And turn the event, confounding human pride:
Some he destroy'd, some scatter'd as the dust
(Not all were prudent, and not all were just.)
Then Discord, sent by Pallas from above,
Stern daughter of the great avenger Jove,
The brother-kings inspired with fell debate;
Who call'd to council all the Achaian state.
But call'd untimely (not the sacred rite
Observed, nor heedful of the setting light,
Nor herald sworn the session to proclaim,)
Sour with debauch, a reeling tribe they came.
To these the cause of meeting they explain,
And Menelaüs moves to cross the main ;
Not so the king of men: he will'd to stay,
The sacred rites and hecatombs to pay.
And calm Minerva's wrath. Oh blind to fate!
The gods not lightly change their love, or hate.
With ireful taunts each other they oppose,
Till in loud tumult all the Greeks arose.

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Now different counsels every breast divide,
Each burns with rancour to the adverse side:
The unquiet night strange projects entertain'd
(So Jove, that urged us to our fate, ordain'd.)
We, with the rising morn our ships unmoor'd,
And brought our captives and our stores aboard;
But half the people with respect obey'd
The king of men, and at his bidding staid.
Now on the wings of winds our course we keep
(For God had smooth'd the waters of the deep
100 For Tenedos we spread our eager oars,

There land, and pay due victims to the powers.
To bless our safe return, we join in prayer;
But angry Jove dispersed our vows in air,

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And raised new discord. Then (so Heaven decreed) 195

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Or the straight course to rocky Chios plough,
And anchor under Mimas shaggy brow?
We sought direction of the power divine:
The god propitious gave the guiding sign;
120 Through the mid seas he bid our navy steer
And in Eubea shun the woes we fear.
The whistling winds already waked the sky;
Before the whistling winds the vessels fly,
With rapid swiftness cut the liquid way,
125 And reach Gerestus at the point of day.
There hecatombs of bulls, to Neptune slain.
High-flaming please the monarch of the main.
The fourth day shone, when all their labours o'er
Tydides' vessels touch'd the wish'd-for shore.
130 But I to Pylos scud before the gales,

The god still breathing on my swelling sails;
Separate from all, I safely landed here;
Their fates or fortunes never reach'd my ear.
Yet what I learn'd, attend; as here I sate,
135 And ask'd each voyager each hero's fate
Curious to know, and willing to relate.
Safe reach'd the Myrmidons their native land,
Beneath Achilles' warlike sons command.
Those, whom the heir of great Apollo's art,
140 Brave Philoctetes, taught to wing the dart
And those whom Idomen from Ilion's plain
Had led, securely cross'd the dreadful main.
How Agamemnon touch'd his Argive coast,
And how his life by fraud and force he lost,
145 And how the murderer paid his forfeit breath;
What lands so distant from that scene of death
But trembling heard the fame; and heard, admire
How well the son appeased his slaughter'd sire
Even to the unhappy, that unjustly bleed,
150 Heaven gives posterity, to avenge the deed.
So fell gysthus; and mayest thou, my friend
(On whom the virtues of thy sire descend,)
Make future times thy equal act adore,
And be what brave Orestes was before!

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;

The prudent youth replied: O thou the grace
And lasting glory of the Grecian race!
Just was the vengeance, and to latest days
Shall long posterity resound the praise.
Some god this arm with equal prowess bless!
160 And the proud suitors shall its force confess
Injurious men! who while my soul is sore
Of fresh affronts, are meditating more.
But Heaven denies this honour to my hand,
Nor shall my father repossess the land:
165 The father's fortune never to return,

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And the sad son's to suffer and to mourn.
Thus he and Nestor took the word: My son,
Is it then true, as distant rumours run,
That crowds of rivals for thy mother's charnis

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170 Thy palace fill with insults and alarmis?

Say, is the fault, through tame submission, thine
Or leagued against thee, do thy people join,
Moved by some oracle, or voice divine?
And yet who knows, but ripening lies in fate
175 An hour of vengeance for the afflicted state;
When great Ulysses shall suppress these harnis,
Ulysses singly, or all Greece in arms.
But if Athena, war's triumphant maid,
The happy son will, as the father aid,

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(Whose fame and safety was her constant care
In every danger and in every war:
Never on man did heavenly favour shine
With rays so strong, distinguish'd, and divine,
As those with which Minerva mark'd thy sire)
So might she love thee, so thy soul inspire!
So should their hopes in humble dust be laid,
And long oblivion of the bridal bed.

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275 Soon as Malea's misty tops arise.

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Ah! no such hope (the prince with sighs replies)
Can touch my breast; that blessing Heaven denies.
Even by celestial favour were it given,
Fortune or fate would cross the will of Heaven.
What words are these, and what imprudence thine?
(Thus interposed the martial maid divine
Forgetful youth! but know, the Power above
With ease can save each object of his love;
Wide as his will, extends his boundless grace;
Nor lost in time, nor circumscribed by place.
Happier his lot, who, many sorrows past,
Long labouring gains his natal shore at last;
Than who, too speedy, hastes to end his life
By some stern ruffian, or adulterous wife.
Death only is the lot which none can miss,
And all is possible to Heaven, but this.
The best, the dearest favourite of the sky
Must taste that cup, for man is born to die.

Thus check'd, replied Ulysses' prudent heir:
Mentor, no more-the mournful thought forbear;
For he no more must draw his country's breath,
Already snatch'd by fate, and the black doom of death!
Pass we to other subjects; and engage
On themes remote the venerable sage
Who thrice has seen the perishable kind
Of men decay, and through three ages shined
Like gods majestic, and like gods in mind ;)
For much he knows, and just conclusions draws,
From various precedents, and various laws.
O son of Neleus! awful Nestor, tell
How he, the mighty Agamemnon, fell;

By what strange fraud Ægysthus wrought, relate
(By force he could not) such a hero's fate?
Lived Menelaüs not in Greece? or where
Was then the martial brother's pious care?
Condemn'd perhaps some foreign shore to tread;
Or sure Ægysthus had not dared the deed.

To whom the full of days. Illustrious youth,
Attend (though partly thou hast guess'd) the truth.
For had the martial Menelaus found

The ruffian breathing yet on Argive ground;
Nor earth had hid his carcass from the skies,
Nor Grecian virgins shriek'd his obsequies,
But fowls obscene dismember'd his remains,
And dogs had torn him on the naked plains.
While us the works of bloody Mars employ'd,
The wanton youth inglorious peace enjoy'd;
He, stretch'd at ease in Argos' calm recess
(Whose stately steeds luxuriant pastures bless,)
With flattery's insinuating art

Sooth'd the frail queen, and poison'd all her heart.
At first, with worthy shame and decent pride,
The royal dame his lawless suit denied.
For virtue's image yet possess'd her mind,.
Taught by a master of the tuneful kind :
Atrides, parting for the Trojan war,
Consign'd the youthful consort to his care.
True to his charge, the bard preserved her long
In honour's limits; such the power of song.
But when the gods these objects of their hate
Dragg'd to destruction by the links of fate;
The bard they banish'd from his native soil,
And left all helpless in a desert isle:
There he, the sweetest of the sacred train,
Sung dying to the rocks, but sung in vain.
Then virtue was no more; her guard away,
She fell, to lust a voluntary prey.

Even to the temple stalk'd the adulterous spouse,
With impious thanks, and mockery of vows,
With images, with garments, and with gold:
And odorous fumes from loaded altars roll'd.

Meantime from flaming Troy we cut the way,
With Menelaüs, through the curling sea,
But when to Sunium's sacred point we came,
Crown'd with the temple of the Athenian dame;
Atrides' pilot, Phrontes, there expired
(Phrontes, of all the sons of men admired
To steer the bounding bark with steady toil,
When the storm thickens, and the billows boil:)
While yet he exercised the steerman's art,
Apollo touch'd him with his gentle dart;
Even with the rudder in his hand he fell.
To pay whose honours to the shades of hell,

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Sudden the Thunderer blackens all the skics,
And the winds whistle, and the surges roll
Mountains on mountains, and obscure the pole.
The tempest scatters, and divides our fleet;
Part, the storm urges on the coast of Crete,
Where winding round the rich Cydonian plain,
The streams of Jardan issue to the main.
There stands a rock, high eminent and steep,
Whose shaggy brow o'erhangs the shady deep,
And views Gortyna on the western side;
On this rough Auster drove the impetuous tide:
With broken force the billows roll'd away,
And heaved the fleet into the neighbouring bay.
Thus saved from death, they gain'd the Phæstan shores,
290 With shatter'd vessels and disabled oars:
But five tall barks the winds and waters tost,
Far from their fellows, on the Egyptian coast.
There wander'd Menelaüs through foreign shores,
Amassing gold, and gathering naval stores;
295 While curst Ægysthus the detested deed
By fraud fulfill'd, and his great brother bled.
Seven years, the traitor rich Mycena sway'd,
And his stern rule the groaning land obey'd;
The eighth, from Athens to his realm restored,
300 Orestes brandish'd the revenging sword,

315

Slew the dire pair, and gave to funeral flame
The vile assassin, and adulterous dame.
That day, ere yet the bloody triumphs cease,
Return'd Atrides to the coast of Greece,

305 And safe to Argos' port his navy brought,
With gifts of price and ponderous treasure fraught.
Hence warn'd, my son, beware! nor idly stand
Too long a stranger to thy native land;
Lest heedless abscence wear thy wealth away,
310 While lawless feasters in thy palace sway;
Perhaps may seize thy realm, and share the spoil;
And thou return, with disappointed toil,
From thy vain journey, to a rifled isle.
Howe'er, my friend, indulge one labour more,
And seek Atrides on the Spartan shore.
He, wandering long, a wider circle made,
And many-languaged nations has survey'd;
And measured tracks unknown to other ships
Amid the monstrous wonders of the deeps
320 (A length of ocean and unbounded sky,
Which scarce the sea-fowl in a year o'erfly :)
Go then; to Sparta take the watry way,
Thy ship and sailors but for orders stay;
Or, if by land thou choose thy course to bend,
325 My steeds, my chariots, and my sons, attend:
Thee to Atrides they shall safe convey,
Guides of thy road, companions of thy way.
Urge him with truth to frame his free replies,
And sure he will: for Menelaus is wise.

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Thus while he speaks the ruddy sun descends,
And twilight grey her evening shade extends.
Then thus the blue eyed maid: O full of days!
Wise are thy words, and just are all thy ways.
Now immolate the tongues, and mix the wine,
335 Sacred to Neptune and the powers divine.

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The lamp of day is quench'd beneath the deep,
And soft approach the balmy hours of sleep:
Nor fits it to prolong the heavenly feast,
Timeless, indecent, but retire to rest.

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So spake Jove's daughter, the celestial maid.
The sober train attended and obey'd.

The sacred heralds on their hands around

Pour'd the full urns; the youths the goblets crown'd:
From bowl to bowl the holy beverage flows;

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345 While to the final sacrifice they rose.

The tongues they cast upon the fragrant flame,
And pour, above, the consecrated stream.
And now, their thirst by copious draughts allay'd,
The youthful hero and the Athenian maid
350 Propose departure from the finish'd rite,
And in their hollow bark to pass the night:
But this the hospitable sage denied.
Forbid it, Jove ! and all the gods! he cried,
Thus from my walls the much-loved son to send
355 Of such a hero, and of such a friend!

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