Their fates or fortunes never reach’d my ear.
Yet what I learn’d, attend; as here I sate, 225
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 son’s command.
Those, whom the heir of great Apollo’s art, 230
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, 235
And how the murd’rer 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 appeas’d his slaughter’d sire!
Ev’n to th’ unhappy, that unjustly bleed, 240
Heav’n gives posterity t’ avenge the deed.
So fell Ægisthus: and mayst 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!’ 245
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! 250
And the proud suitors shall its force confess;
Injurious men! who, while my soul is sore
Of fresh affronts, are meditating more.
But Heav’n denies this honour to my hand,
Nor shall my father repossess the land: 255
The father’s fortune never to return,
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 charms 260
Thy palace fill with insults and alarms?
Say, is the fault, thro’ tame submission, thine?
Or, leagued against thee, do thy people join,
Mov’d by some oracle, or voice divine?
And yet who knows but ripening lies in Fate 265
An hour of vengeance for th’ afflicted state;
When great Ulysses shall suppress these harms,
Ulysses singly, or all Greece in arms.
But if Athena, War’s triumphant Maid,
The happy son will, as the father, aid 270
(Whose fame and safety was her constant care
In ev’ry danger and in ev’ry war:
Never on man did heav’nly favour shine
With rays so strong, distinguish’d, and divine,
As those with which Minerva mark’d thy sire; 275
So might she love thee, so thy soul inspire!),
Soon should their hopes in humble dust be laid,
And long oblivion of the bridal bed.’
‘Ah! no such hope’ (the Prince with sighs replies)
‘Can touch my breast; that blessing Heav’n denies. 280
Ev’n by celestial favour were it giv’n,
Fortune or Fate would cross the will of Heav’n.’
‘What words are these, and what imprudence thine?’
(Thus interposed the Martial Maid divine)
‘Forgetful youth! but know, the Power above, 285
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 pass’d,
Long lab’ring gains his natal shore at last, 290
Than who, too speedy, hastes to end his life
By some stern ruffian, or adult’rous wife.
Death only is the lot which none can miss,
And all is possible to Heav’n but this.
The best, the dearest fav’rite of the sky 295
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! 300
Pass we to other subjects; and engage
On themes remote the venerable sage
(Who thrice has seen the perishable kind
Of men decay, and thro’ three ages shin’d
Like Gods majestic, and like Gods in mind); 305
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 Ægisthus wrought, relate 310
(By force he could not), such a hero’s fate?
Liv’d Menelaüs not in Greece? or where
Was then the martial brother’s pious care?
Condemn’d perhaps some foreign shore to tread;
Or sure Ægisthus had not dared the deed.’ 315
To whom the full of days: ‘Illustrious youth,
Attend (tho’ partly thou hast guess’d) the truth.
For had the martial Menelaüs found
The ruffian breathing yet on Argive ground,
Nor earth had hid his carcass from the skies, 320
Nor Grecian virgin 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; 325
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, 330
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. 335
True to his charge, the bard preserv’d 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, 340
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. 345
Ev’n to the temple stalk’d th’ adult’rous spouse,
With impious thanks, and mockery of vows,
With images, with garments, and with gold;
And od’rous fumes from loaded altars roll’d.
‘Meantime from flaming Troy we cut the way, 350
With Menelaüs, thro’ the curling sea.
But when to Sunium’s sacred point we came,
Crown’d with the temple of th’ Athenian Dame;
Atrides’ pilot, Phrontes, there expired
(Phrontes, of all the sons of men admired, 355
To steer the bounding bark with steady toil,
When the storm thickens, and the billows boil);
While yet he exercised the steersman’s art,
Apollo touch’d him with his gentle dart;
Ev’n with the rudder in his hand, he fell. 360
To pay whose honours to the shades of Hell,
We check’d our haste, by pious office bound,
And laid our old companion in the ground.
And now, the rites discharged, our course we keep
Far on the gloomy bosom of the deep: 365
Soon as Malæa’s misty tops arise,
Sudden the Thund’rer blackens all the skies,
And the winds whistle, and the surges roll
Mountains on mountains, and obscure the pole.
The tempest scatters, and divides our fleet; 370
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, 375
And views Gortyna on the western side;
On this rough Auster drove th’ impetuous tide:
With broken force the billows roll’d away,
And heav’d the fleet into the neighb’ring bay.
Thus saved from death, they gain’d the Phæstan shores, 380
With shatter’d vessels and disabled oars:
But five tall barks the winds and waters toss’d,
Far from their fellows, on th’ Ægyptian coast.
There wander’d Menelaüs thro’ foreign shores,
Amassing gold, and gath’ring naval stores; 385
While curs’d Ægisthus the detested deed
By fraud fulfill’d, and his great brother bled.
Sev’n years, the traitor rich Mycenæ sway’d,
And his stern rule the groaning land obey’d;
The eighth, from Athens to his realm restor’d, 390
Orestes brandish’d the revenging sword,
Slew the dire pair, and gave to funeral flame
The vile assassin, and adult’rous dame.
That day, ere yet the bloody triumphs cease,
Return’d Atrides to the coast of Greece, 395
And safe to Argos’ port his navy brought,
With gifts of price and pond’rous treasure fraught.
Hence warn’d, my son, beware! nor idly stand
Too long a stranger to thy native land;
Lest heedless absence wear thy wealth away, 400
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, 405
And seek Atrides on the Spartan shore.
He, wand’ring 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 410
(A length of ocean and unbounded sky,
Which scarce the sea-fowl in a year o’erfly):
Go then; to Sparta take the wat’ry way,
Thy ship and sailors but for orders stay;
Or if by land thou choose thy course to bend, 415
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 Menelaüs is wise.’ 420
Thus while he speaks, the ruddy sun descends,
And twilight gray her ev’ning 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, 425
Sacred to Neptune and the Powers divine.
The lamp of day is quench’d beneath the deep,
And soft approach the balmy hours of sleep:
Nor fits it to prolong the heav’nly feast,
Timeless, indecent, but retire to rest.’ 430
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 bev’rage flows; 435
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 th’ Athenian maid 440
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-lov’d son to send 445
Of such a Hero, and of such a Friend!
Me, as some needy peasant, would ye leave,
Whom Heav’n denies the blessing to relieve?
Me would ye leave, who boast imperial sway,
When beds of royal state invite your stay? 450
No — long as life this mortal shall inspire,
Or as my children imitate their sire,
Here shall the wand’ring stranger find his home,
And hospitable rites adorn the dome.’
‘Well hast thou spoke’ (the Blue-eyed Maid replies), 455
‘Belov’d 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, 460
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. 465
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, receiv’d with friendly care, 470
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 thro’ the liquid skies. 475
Vision divine! the throng’d spectators gaze
In holy wonder fix’d, and still amaze.
But chief the rev’rend sage admired; he took
The hand of young Telemachus, and spoke:
‘Oh, happy Youth! and favour’d of the skies, 480
Distinguish’d care of guardian Deities!
Whose early years for future worth engage,
No vulgar manhood, no ignoble age.
For lo! none other of the court above
Than she, the daughter of Almighty Jove, 485
Pallas herself, the war-triumphant Maid,
Confess’d is thine, as once thy father’s aid.
So guide me, Goddess! so propitious shine
On me, my consort, and my royal line!
A yearling bullock to thy name shall smoke, 490
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 fav’ring Goddess heard. 495
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, 500
His sons and grandsons the wide circle graced.
To these the hospitable sage, in sign
Of social welco
me, mix’d the racy wine
(Late from the mell’wing cask restor’d to light,
By ten long years refin’d, and rosy bright). 505
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, 510
And slept beneath the pompous colonnade:
Fast by his side Pisistratus lay spread
(In age his equal), on a splendid bed:
But in an inner court, securely closed,
The rev’rend Nestor and his Queen reposed. 515
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, 520
Where ancient Neleus sate, a rustic throne;
But he descending to th’ 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. 525
First Echephron and Stratius quit their bed;
Then Perseus, Aretus, and Thrasymed;
The last Pisistratus arose from rest:
They came, and near him place the stranger-guest.
To these the senior thus declared his will: 530
‘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; 535
One seek the harbour where the vessels moor,
And bring thy friends, Telemachus! ashore
(Leave only two the galley to attend);
Another to Learceus must we send,
Artist divine, whose skilful hands infold 540
The victim’s horn with circumfusile gold.
The rest may here the pious duty share,
And bid the handmaids for the feast prepare,
The seats to range, the fragrant wood to bring,
And limpid waters from the living spring.’ 545
He said, and busy each his care bestow’d;
Already at the gates the bullock low’d,
Already came the Ithacensian crew,
The dext’rous smith the tools already drew:
His pond’rous hammer, and his anvil sound, 550
And the strong tongs to turn the metal round.
Nor was Minerva absent from the rite;
She view’d her honours, and enjoy’d the sight.
With rev’rent hand the King presents the gold,
Which round th’ intorted horns the gilder roll’d, 555
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 124