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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 eye
10 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 Antilochus
11 by the son
12 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
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