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us thence four skins Of phocæ, and all newly stript, a snare Contriving subtle to deceive her Sire. Four cradles in the sand she scoop’d, then sat Expecting us, who in due time approach’d; She lodg’d us side by side, and over each A raw skin cast. Horrible to ourselves Proved that disguise whom the pernicious scent Of the sea-nourish’d phocæ sore annoy’d; For who would lay him down at a whale’s side? 540 But she a potent remedy devised Herself to save us, who the nostrils sooth’d Of each with pure ambrosia thither brought Odorous, which the fishy scent subdued. All morning, patient watchers, there we lay; And now the num’rous phocæ from the Deep Emerging, slept along the shore, and he At noon came also, and perceiving there His fatted monsters, through the flock his course Took regular, and summ’d them; with the first 550 He number’d us, suspicion none of fraud Conceiving, then couch’d also. We, at once, Loud-shouting flew on him, and in our arms Constrain’d him fast; nor the sea-prophet old Call’d not incontinent his shifts to mind. First he became a long-maned lion grim, Then dragon, panther then, a savage boar, A limpid stream, and an o’ershadowing tree. We persevering held him, till at length The Antient of the Deep, skill’d as he is 560 In wiles, yet weary, question’d me, and said. Oh Atreus’ son, by what confed’rate God Instructed liest thou in wait for me, To seize and hold me? what is thy desire? So He; to whom thus answer I return’d. Old Seer! thou know’st; why, fraudful, should’st thou ask? It is because I have been prison’d long Within this isle, whence I have sought in vain Deliv’rance, till my wonted courage fails. Yet say (for the Immortals all things know) 570 What God detains me, and my course forbids Hence to my country o’er the fishy Deep? So I; when thus the old one of the waves. But thy plain duty
16 was to have adored Jove, first, in sacrifice, and all the Gods, That then embarking, by propitious gales Impell’d, thou might’st have reach’d thy country soon. For thou art doom’d ne’er to behold again Thy friends, thy palace, or thy native shores, Till thou have seen once more the hallow’d flood 580 Of Ægypt, and with hecatombs adored Devout, the deathless tenants of the skies. Then will they speed thee whither thou desir’st. He ended, and my heart broke at his words, Which bade me pass again the gloomy gulph To Ægypt; tedious course, and hard to atchieve! Yet, though in sorrow whelm’d, I thus replied. Old prophet! I will all thy will perform. But tell me, and the truth simply reveal; Have the Achaians with their ships arrived 590 All safe, whom Nestor left and I, at Troy? Or of the Chiefs have any in their barks, Or in their followers’ arms found a dire death Unlook’d for, since that city’s siege we closed? I spake, when answer thus the God return’d. Atrides, why these questions? Need is none That thou should’st all my secrets learn, which once Reveal’d, thou would’st not long dry-eyed remain. Of those no few have died, and many live; But leaders, two alone, in their return 600 Have died (thou also hast had war to wage) And one, still living, roams the boundless sea. Ajax,
17 surrounded by his galleys, died. Him Neptune, first, against the bulky rocks The Gyræ drove, but saved him from the Deep; Nor had he perish’d, hated as he was By Pallas, but for his own impious boast In frenzy utter’d that he would escape The billows, even in the Gods’ despight. Neptune that speech vain-glorious hearing, grasp’d 610 His trident, and the huge Gyræan rock Smiting indignant, dash’d it half away; Part stood, and part, on which the boaster sat When, first, the brainsick fury seiz’d him, fell, Bearing him with it down into the gulphs Of Ocean, where he drank the brine, and died. But thy own brother in his barks escaped That fate, by Juno saved; yet when, at length, He should have gain’d Malea’s craggy shore, Then, by a sudden tempest caught, he flew 620 With many a groan far o’er the fishy Deep To the land’s utmost point, where once his home Thyestes had, but where Thyestes’ son Dwelt then, Ægisthus. Easy lay his course And open thence, and, as it pleased the Gods, The shifted wind soon bore them to their home. He, high in exultation, trod the shore That gave him birth, kiss’d it, and, at the sight, The welcome sight of Greece, shed many a tear. Yet not unseen he landed; for a spy, 630 One whom the shrewd Ægisthus had seduced By promise of two golden talents, mark’d His coming from a rock where he had watch’d The year complete, lest, passing unperceived, The King should reassert his right in arms. Swift flew the spy with tidings to this Lord, And He, incontinent, this project framed Insidious. Twenty men, the boldest hearts Of all the people, from the rest he chose, Whom he in ambush placed, and others charged 640 Diligent to prepare the festal board. With horses, then, and chariots forth he drove Full-fraught with mischief, and conducting home The unsuspicious King, amid the feast Slew him, as at his crib men slay an ox. Nor of thy brother’s train, nor of his train Who slew thy brother, one survived, but all, Welt’ring in blood together, there expired. He ended, and his words beat on my heart As they would break it. On the sands I sat 650 Weeping, nor life nor light desiring more. But when I had in dust roll’d me, and wept To full satiety, mine 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
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