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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 homely beverage flows;

      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

      Propose departure from the finish’d rite,

      And in their hollow bark to pass the night;

      But this hospitable sage denied,

      “Forbid it, Jove! and all the gods! (he cried),

      Thus from my walls and the much-loved son to send

      Of such a hero, and of such a friend!

      Me, as some needy peasant, would ye leave,

      Whom Heaven denies the blessing to relieve?

      Me would ye leave, who boast imperial sway,

      When beds of royal state invite your stay?

      No — long as life this mortal shall inspire,

      Or as my children imitate their sire.

      Here shall the wandering stranger find his home,

      And hospitable rites adorn the dome.”

      “Well hast thou spoke (the blue-eyed maid replies),

      Beloved old man! benevolent as wise.

      Be the kind dictates of thy heart obey’d,

      And let thy words Telemachus persuade:

      He to thy palace shall thy steps pursue;

      I to the ship, to give the orders due,

      Prescribe directions and confirm the crew.

      For I alone sustain their naval cares,

      Who boast experience from these silver hairs;

      All youths the rest, whom to this journey move

      Like years, like tempers, and their prince’s love

      There in the vessel shall I pass the night;

      And, soon as morning paints the fields of light,

      I go to challenge from the Caucons bold

      A debt, contracted in the days of old,

      But this, thy guest, received with friendly care

      Let thy strong coursers swift to Sparta bear;

      Prepare thy chariot at the dawn of day,

      And be thy son companion of his way.”

      Then, turning with the word, Minerva flies,

      And soars an eagle through the liquid skies.

      Vision divine! the throng’d spectators gaze

      In holy wonder fix’d, and still amaze.

      But chief the reverend sage admired; he took

      The hand of young Telemachus, and spoke:

      “Oh, happy youth! and favoured of the skies,

      Distinguished care of guardian deities!

      Whose early years for future worth engage,

      No vulgar manhood, no ignoble age.

      For lo! none other of the course above,

      Then she, the daughter of almighty Jove,

      Pallas herself, the war-triumphant maid;

      Confess’d is thine, as once thy fathers aid.

      So guide me, goddess! so propitious shine

      On me, my consort, and my royal line!

      A yearling bullock to thy name shall smoke,

      Untamed, unconscious of the galling yoke,

      With ample forehead, and yet tender horns,

      Whose budding honours ductile gold adorns.”

      Submissive thus the hoary sire preferr’d

      His holy vow: the favouring goddess heard.

      Then, slowly rising, o’er the sandy space

      Precedes the father, follow’d by his race,

      (A long procession) timely marching home

      In comely order to the regal dome.

      There when arrived, on thrones around him placed,

      His sons and grandsons the wide circle graced.

      To these the hospitable sage, in sign

      Of social welcome, mix’d the racy wine

      (Late from the mellowing cask restored to light,

      By ten long years refined, and rosy bright).

      To Pallas high the foaming bowl he crown’d,

      And sprinkled large libations on the ground.

      Each drinks a full oblivion of his cares,

      And to the gifts of balmy sleep repairs.

      Deep in a rich alcove the prince was laid,

      And slept beneath the pompous colonnade;

      Fast by his side Pisistratus was spread

      (In age his equal) on a splendid bed:

      But in an inner court, securely closed,

      The reverend Nestor and his queen reposed.

      When now Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

      With rosy lustre purpled o’er the lawn,

      The old man early rose, walk’d forth, and sate

      On polish’d stone before his palace gate;

      With unguents smooth the lucid marble shone,

      Where ancient Neleus sate, a rustic throne;

      But he descending to the infernal shade,

      Sage Nestor fill’d it, and the sceptre sway’d.

      His sons around him mild obeisance pay,

      And duteous take the orders of the day.

      First Eehephron and Stratius quit their bed;

      Then Perseus, Aretus, and Thrasymed;

      The last Pisistratus arose from rest:

      They came, and near him placed the stranger-guest.

      To these the senior thus declared his will:

      “My sons! the dictates of your sire fulfil.

      To Pallas, first of gods, prepare the feast,

      Who graced our rites, a more than mortal guest

      Let one, despatchful, bid some swain to lead

      A well-fed bullock from the grassy mead;

      One seek the harbour where the vessels moor,

      And bring thy friends, Telemachus! ashore

      (Leave only two the galley to attend);

      Another Laerceus must we send,

      Artist devine, whose skilful hands infold

      The victim’s horn with circumfusile gold.

      The rest may here the

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