Book IV
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| | Telemachus with Pisistratus arriving at Sparta, is hospitably | |
| | received by Menelaus to whom he relates the cause of his coming, | |
| | and learns from him many particulars of what befell the Greeks | |
| | since the destruction of Troy. He dwells more at large upon the | |
| | prophecies of Proteus to him in his return; from which he | |
| | acquaints Telemachus that Ulysses is detained in the island of | |
| | Calypso. | |
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| | In the meantime the suitors consult to destroy Telemachus on the | |
| | voyage home. Penelope is apprised of this; but comforted in a | |
| | dream by Pallas, in the shape of her sister Iphthima. | |
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| | And now proud Sparta with their wheels resounds, | |
| | Sparta whose walls a range of hills surrounds; | |
| | At the fair dome the rapid labour ends; | |
| | Where sate Atrides 'midst his bridal friends, | |
| | With double vows invoking Hymen's power, | |
| | To bless his son's and daughter's nuptial hour. | |
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| | That day, to great Achilles son resign'd, | |
| | Hermione, the fairest of her kind, | |
| | Was sent to crown the long-protracted joy, | |
| | Espoused before the final doom of Troy; | |
| | With steeds and gilded cars, a gorgeous train | |
| | Attend the nymphs to Phthia's distant reign. | |
| | Meanwhile at home, to Megapentha's bed | |
| | The virgin choir Alector's daughter led. | |
| | Brave Megapenthas From a stolen amour | |
| | To great Atrides' age his handmaid bore; | |
| | To Helen's bed the gods alone assign | |
| | Hermione, to extend the regal line; | |
| | On whom a radiant pomp oh Graces wait, | |
| | Resembling Venus in attractive state. | |
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| | While this gay friendly troop the king surround, | |
| | With festival and mirth the roofs resound; | |
| | A bard amid the joyous circle sings | |
| | High airs attemper'd to the vocal strings; | |
| | Whilst warbling to the varied strain, advance | |
| | Two sprightly youths to form the bounding dance, | |
| | 'Twas then, that issuing through the palace gate, | |
| | The splendid car roll'd slow in regal state: | |
| | On the bright eminence young Nestor shone, | |
| | And fast beside him great Ulysses' son; | |
| | Grave Eteoneous saw the pomp appear, | |
| | And speeding, thus address'd the royal ear; | |
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| | "Two youths approach, whose semblant features prove | |
| | Their blood devolving from the source of Jove | |
| | Is due reception deign'd, or must they bend | |
| | Their doubtful course to seek a distant friend?" | |
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|
| | "Insensate! (with a sigh the king replies,) | |
| | Too long, misjudging, have I thought thee wise | |
| | But sure relentless folly steals thy breast, | |
| | Obdurate to reject the stranger-guest; | |
| | To those dear hospitable rites a foe, | |
| | Which in my wanderings oft relieved my woe; | |
| | Fed by the bounty of another's board, | |
| | Till pitying Jove my native realm restored— | |
| | Straight be the coursers from the car released, | |
| | Conduct the youths to grace the genial feast." | |
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| | The seneschal, rebuked, in haste withdrew; | |
| | With equal haste a menial train pursue: | |
| | Part led the coursers, from the car enlarged, | |
| | Each to a crib with choicest grain surcharged; | |
| | Part in a portico, profusely graced | |
| | With rich magnificence, the chariot placed; | |
| | Then to the dome the friendly pair invite, | |
| | Who eye the dazzling roofs with vast delight; | |
| | Resplendent as the blaze of summer noon, | |
| | Or the pale radiance of the midnight moon. | |
| | From room to room their eager view they bend | |
| | Thence to the bath, a beauteous pile, descend; | |
| | Where a bright damsel train attends the guests | |
| | With liquid odours, and embroider'd vests. | |
| | Refresh'd, they wait them to the bower of state, | |
| | Where, circled with his pears, Atrides sate; | |
| | Throned next the king, a fair attendant brings | |
| | The purest product of the crystal springs; | |
| | High on a massy vase of silver mould, | |
| | The burnish'd laver flames with solid gold, | |
| | In solid gold the purple vintage flows, | |
| | And on the board a second banquet rose. | |
| | When thus the king, with hospitable port; | |
| | "Accept this welcome to the Spartan court: | |
| | The waste of nature let the feast repair, | |
| | Then your high lineage and your names declare; | |
| | Say from what sceptred ancestry ye claim, | |
| | Recorded eminent in deathless fame, | |
| | For vulgar parents cannot stamp their race | |
| | With signatures of such majestic grace." | |
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| | Ceasing, benevolent he straight assigns | |
| | The royal portion of the choicest chines | |
| | To each accepted friend; with grateful haste | |
| | They share the honours of the rich repast. | |
| | Sufficed, soft whispering thus to Nestor's son, | |
| | His head reclined, young Ithacus begun: | |
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| | "View'st thou unmoved, O ever-honour'd most! | |
| | These prodigies of art, and wondrous cost! | |
| | Above, beneath, around the palace shines | |
| | The sunless treasure of exhausted mines; | |
| | The spoils of elephants the roofs inlay, | |
| | And studded amber darts the golden ray; | |
| | Such, and not nobler, in the realms above | |
| | My wonder dictates is the dome of Jove." | |
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|
| | The monarch took the word, and grave replied: | |
| | "Presumptuous are the vaunts, and vain the pride | |
| | Of man, who dares in pomp with Jove contest, | |
| | Unchanged, immortal, and supremely blest! | |
| | With all my affluence, when my woes are weigh'd, | |
| | Envy will own the purchase dearly paid. | |
| | For eight slow-circling years, by tempests toss'd, | |
| | From Cypress to the far Phoenician coast | |
| | (Sidon the capital), I stretch'd my toil | |
| | Through regions fatten'd with the flows of Nile. | |
| | Next Aethiopia's utmost bound explore, | |
| | And the parch'd borders of the Arabian shore; | |
| | Then warp my voyage on the southern gales, | |
| | O'er the warm Lybian wave to spread my sails; | |
| | That happy clime, where each revolving year | |
| | The teeming ewes a triple offspring bear; | |
| | And two fair crescents of translucent horn | |
| | The brows of all their young increase adorn: | |
| | The shepherd swains, with sure abundance blest, | |
| | On the fat flock and rural dainties feast; | |
| | Nor want of herbage makes the dairy fail, | |
| | But every season fills the foaming pail. | |
| | Whilst, heaping unwash'd wealth, I distant roam, | |
| | The best of brothers, at his natal home, | |
| | By the dire fury of a traitress wife, | |
| | Ends the sad evening of a stormy life; | |
| | Whence, with incessant grief my soul annoy'd, | |
| | These riches are possess'd, but not enjoy'd! | |
| | My wars, the copious theme of every tongue, | |
| | To you your fathers have recorded long. | |
| | How favouring Heaven repaid my glorious toils | |
| | With a sack'd palace, and barbaric spoils. | |
| | Oh! had the gods so large a boon denied | |
| | And life, the just equivalent supplied | |
| | To those brave warriors, who, with glory fired | |
| | Far from their country, in my cause expired! | |
| | Still in short intervals of pleasing woe. | |
| | Regardful of the friendly dues I owe, | |
| | I to the glorious dead, for ever dear! | |
| | Indulge the tribute of a grateful tear. | |
| | But oh! Ulysses—deeper than the rest | |
| | That sad idea wounds my anxious breast! | |
| | My heart bleeds fresh with agonizing pain; | |
| | The bowl and tasteful viands tempt in vain; | |
| | Nor sleep's soft power can close my streaming eyes, | |
| | When imaged to my soul his sorrows rise. | |
| | No peril in my cause he ceased to prove, | |
| | His labours equall'd only by my love: | |
| | And both alike to bitter fortune born, | |
| | For him to suffer, and for me to mourn! | |
| | Whether he wanders on some friendly coast, | |
| | Or glides in Stygian gloom a pensive ghost, | |
| | No fame reveals; but, doubtful of his doom, | |
| | His good old sire with sorrow to the tomb | |
| | Declines his trembling steps; untimely care | |
| | Withers the blooming vigour of his heir; | |
| | And the chaste partner of his bed and throne | |
| | Wastes all her widow'd hours in tender moan." | |
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| | While thus pathetic to the prince he spoke, | |
| | From the brave youth the streaming passion broke; | |
| | Studious to veil the grief, in vain repress'd, | |
| | His face he shrouded with his purple vest. | |
| | The conscious monarch pierced the coy disguise, | |
| | And view'd his filial love with vast surprise: | |
| | Dubious to press the tender theme, or wait | |
| | To hear the youth inquire his father's fate. | |
| | In this suspense bright Helen graced the room; | |
| | Before her breathed a gale of rich perfume. | |
| | So moves, adorn'd with each attractive grace, | |
| | The silver shafted goddess of the chase! | |
| | The seat of majesty Adraste brings, | |
| | With art illustrious, for the pomp of kings; | |
| | To spread the pall (beneath the regal chair) | |
| | Of softest wool, is bright Alcippe's care. | |
| | A silver canister, divinely wrought, | |
| | In her soft hands the beauteous Phylo brought; | |
| | To Sparta's queen of old the radiant vase | |
| | Alcandra gave, a pledge of royal grace; | |
| | For Polybus her lord (whose sovereign sway | |
| | The wealthy tribes of Pharian Thebes obey), | |
| | When to that court Atrides came, caress'd | |
| | With vast munificence the imperial guest: | |
| | Two lavers from the richest ore refined, | |
| | With silver tripods, the kind host assign'd; | |
| | And bounteous from the royal treasure told | |
| | Ten equal talents of refulgent gold. | |
| | Alcandra, consort of his high command, | |
| | A golden distaff gave to Helen's hand; | |
| | And that rich vase, with living sculpture wrought, | |
| | Which heap'd with wool the beauteous Phylo brought | |
| | The silken fleece, impurpled for the loom, | |
| | Rivall'd the hyacinth in vernal bloom. | |
| | The sovereign seat then Jove born Helen press'd, | |
| | And pleasing thus her sceptred lord address'd: | |
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| | "Who grace our palace now, that friendly pair, | |
| | Speak they their lineage, or their names declare? | |
| | Uncertain of the truth, yet uncontroll'd, | |
| | Hear me the bodings of my breast unfold. | |
| | With wonder wrapp'd on yonder check I trace | |
| | The feature of the Ulyssean race: | |
| | Diffused o'er each resembling line appear, | |
| | In just similitude, the grace and air | |
| | Of young Telemachus! the lovely boy, | |
| | Who bless'd Ulysses with a father's joy, | |
| | What time the Greeks combined their social arms, | |
| | To avenge the stain of my ill-fated charms!" | |
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| | "Just is thy thought, (the king assenting cries,) | |
| | Methinks Ulysses strikes my wondering eyes; | |
| | Full shines the father in the filial frame, | |
| | His port, his features, and his shape the same; | |
| | Such quick regards his sparkling eyes bestow; | |
| | Such wavy ringlets o'er his shoulders flow | |
| | And when he heard the long disastrous store | |
| | Of cares, which in my cause Ulysses bore; | |
| | Dismay'd, heart-wounded with paternal woes, | |
| | Above restraint the tide of sorrow rose; | |
| | Cautious to let the gushing grief appear, | |
| | His purple garment veil'd the falling tear." | |
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| | "See there confess'd (Pisistratus replies) | |
| | The genuine worth of Ithacus the wise! | |
| | Of that heroic sire the youth is sprung, | |
| | But modest awe hath chain'd his timorous tongue. | |
| | Thy voice, O king! with pleased attention heard, | |
| | Is like the dictates of a god revered. | |
| | With him, at Nestor's high command, I came, | |
| | Whose age I honour with a parent's name. | |
| | By adverse destiny constrained to sue | |
| | For counsel and redress, he sues to you | |
| | Whatever ill the friendless orphan bears, | |
| | Bereaved of parents in his infant years, | |
| | Still must the wrong'd Telemachus sustain, | |
| | If, hopeful of your aid, he hopes in vain; | |
| | Affianced in your friendly power alone, | |
| | The youth would vindicate the vacant throne." | |
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| | "Is Sparta blest, and these desiring eyes | |
| | View my friend's son? (the king exalting cries;) | |
| | Son of my friend, by glorious toils approved, | |
| | Whose sword was sacred to the man he loved; | |
| | Mirror of constant faith, revered and mourn'd- | |
| | When Troy was ruin'd, had the chief return'd, | |
| | No Greek an equal space had ere possess'd, | |
| | Of dear affection, in my grateful breast. | |
| | I, to confirm the mutual joys we shared, | |
| | For his abode a capital prepared; | |
| | Argos, the seat of sovereign rule, I chose; | |
| | Fair in the plan the future palace rose, | |
| | Where my Ulysses and his race might reign, | |
| | And portion to his tribes the wide domain, | |
| | To them my vassals had resign'd a soil, | |
| | With teeming plenty to reward their toil. | |
| | There with commutual zeal we both had strove | |
| | In acts of dear benevolence and love: | |
| | Brothers in peace, not rivals in command, | |
| | And death alone dissolved the friendly band! | |
| | Some envious power the blissful scene destroys; | |
| | Vanish'd are all the visionary joys; | |
| | The soul of friendship to my hope is lost, | |
| | Fated to wander from his natal coast!" | |
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| | He ceased; a gush of grief began to rise: | |
| | Fast streams a tide from beauteous Helen's eyes; | |
| | Fast for the sire the filial sorrows flow; | |
| | The weeping monarch swells the mighty woe; | |
| | Thy cheeks, Pisistratus, the tears bedew, | |
| | While pictured so thy mind appear'd in view, | |
| | Thy martial brother; on the Phrygian plain | |
| | Extended pale, by swarthy Memnon slain! | |
| | But silence soon the son of Nestor broke, | |
| | And melting with fraternal pity, spoke: | |
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| | "Frequent, O king, was Nestor wont to raise | |
| | And charm attention with thy copious praise; | |
| | To crowd thy various gifts, the sage assign'd | |
| | The glory of a firm capacious mind; | |
| | With that superior attribute control | |
| | This unavailing impotence of soul, | |
| | Let not your roof with echoing grief resound, | |
| | Now for the feast the friendly bowl is crown'd; | |
| | But when, from dewy shade emerging bright, | |
| | Aurora streaks the sky with orient light, | |
| | Let each deplore his dead; the rites of woe | |
| | Are all, alas! the living can bestow; | |
| | O'er the congenial dust enjoin'd to shear | |
| | The graceful curl, and drop the tender tear. | |
| | Then, mingling in the mournful pomp with you, | |
| | I'll pay my brother's ghost a warrior's due, | |
| | And mourn the brave Antilochus, a name | |
| | Not unrecorded in the rolls of fame; | |
| | With strength and speed superior form'd, in fight | |
| | To face the foe, or intercept his flight; | |
| | Too early snatch'd by fate ere known to me! | |
| | I boast a witness of his worth in thee." | |
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| | "Young and mature! (the monarch thus rejoins,) | |
| | In thee renew'd the soul of Nestor shines; | |
| | Form'd by the care of that consummate sage, | |
| | In early bloom an oracle of age. | |
| | Whene'er his influence Jove vouchsafes to shower, | |
| | To bless the natal and the nuptial hour; | |
| | From the great sire transmissive to the race, | |
| | The boon devolving gives distinguish'd grace. | |
| | Such, happy Nestor! was thy glorious doom, | |
| | Around thee, full of years, thy offspring bloom. | |
| | Expert of arms, and prudent in debate; | |
| | The gifts of Heaven to guard thy hoary state. | |
| | But now let each becalm his troubled breast, | |
| | Wash, and partake serene the friendly feast. | |
| | To move thy suit, Telemachus, delay, | |
| | Till heaven's revolving lamp restores the day." | |
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| | He said, Asphalion swift the laver brings; | |
| | Alternate, all partake the grateful springs; | |
| | Then from the rites of purity repair, | |
| | And with keen gust the savoury viands share. | |
| | Meantime, with genial joy to warm the soul, | |
| | Bright Helen mix'd a mirth inspiring bowl; | |
| | Temper'd with drugs of sovereign use, to assuage | |
| | The boiling bosom of tumultuous rage; | |
| | To clear the cloudy front of wrinkled Care, | |
| | And dry the tearful sluices of Despair; | |
| | Charm'd with that virtuous draught, the exalted mind | |
| | All sense of woe delivers to the wind. | |
| | Though on the blazing pile his parent lay. | |
| | Or a loved brother groan'd his life away. | |
| | Or darling son, oppress'd by ruffian force, | |
| | Fell breathless at his feet, a mangled corse; | |
| | From morn to eve, impassive and serene, | |
| | The man entranced would view the dreadful scene | |
| | These drugs, so friendly to the joys of life. | |
| | Bright Helen learn'd from Thone's imperial wife; | |
| | Who sway'd the sceptre, where prolific Nile | |
| | With various simples clothes the fatten'd soil. | |
| | With wholesome herbage mix'd, the direful bane | |
| | Of vegetable venom taints the plain; | |
| | From Paeon sprung, their patron-god imparts | |
| | To all the Pharian race his healing arts. | |
| | The beverage now prepared to inspire the feast, | |
| | The circle thus the beauteous queen addressed: | |
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| | "Throned in omnipotence, supremest Jove | |
| | Tempers the fates of human race above; | |
| | By the firm sanction of his sovereign will, | |
| | Alternate are decreed our good and ill. | |
| | To feastful mirth be this white hour assign'd. | |
| | And sweet discourse, the banquet of the mind | |
| | Myself, assisting in the social joy, | |
| | Will tell Ulysses' bold exploit in Troy, | |
| | Sole witness of the deed I now declare | |
| | Speak you (who saw) his wonders in the war. | |
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| | "Seam'd o'er with wounds, which his own sabre gave, | |
| | In the vile habit of a village slave, | |
| | The foe deceived, he pass'd the tented plain, | |
| | In Troy to mingle with the hostile train. | |
| | In this attire secure from searching eyes, | |
| | Till happily piercing through the dark disguise, | |
| | The chief I challenged; he, whose practised wit | |
| | Knew all the serpent mazes of deceit, | |
| | Eludes my search; but when his form I view'd | |
| | Fresh from the bath, with fragrant oils renew'd, | |
| | His limbs in military purple dress'd, | |
| | Each brightening grace the genuine Greek confess'd. | |
| | A previous pledge of sacred faith obtain'd, | |
| | Till he the lines and Argive fleet regain'd, | |
| | To keep his stay conceal'd; the chief declared | |
| | The plans of war against the town prepared. | |
| | Exploring then the secrets of the state, | |
| | He learn'd what best might urge the Dardan fate; | |
| | And, safe returning to the Grecian host, | |
| | Sent many a shade to Pluto's dreary coast. | |
| | Loud grief resounded through the towers of Troy, | |
| | But my pleased bosom glow'd with secret joy: | |
| | For then, with dire remorse and conscious shame | |
| | I view'd the effects of that disastrous flame. | |
| | Which, kindled by the imperious queen of love, | |
| | Constrain'd me from my native realm to rove: | |
| | And oft in bitterness of soul deplored | |
| | My absent daughter and my dearer lord; | |
| | Admired among the first of human race, | |
| | For every gift of mind and manly grace." | |
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| | "Right well (replied the king) your speech displays | |
| | The matchless merit of the chief you praise: | |
| | Heroes in various climes myself have found, | |
| | For martial deeds and depth of thought renown'd; | |
| | But Ithacus, unrivall'd in his claim, | |
| | May boast a title to the loudest fame: | |
| | In battle calm he guides the rapid storm, | |
| | Wise to resolve, and patient to perform. | |
| | What wondrous conduct in the chief appear'd, | |
| | When the vast fabric of the steed we rear'd! | |
| | Some demon, anxious for the Trojan doom, | |
| | Urged you with great Deiphobus to come, | |
| | To explore the fraud; with guile opposed to guile. | |
| | Slow-pacing thrice around the insidious pile, | |
| | Each noted leader's name you thrice invoke, | |
| | Your accent varying as their spouses spoke! | |
| | The pleasing sounds each latent warrior warm'd, | |
| | But most Tydides' and coy heart alarm'd: | |
| | To quit the steed we both impatient press | |
| | Threatening to answer from the dark recess. | |
| | Unmoved the mind of Ithacus remain'd; | |
| | And the vain ardours of our love restrain'd; | |
| | But Anticlus, unable to control, | |
| | Spoke loud the language of his yearning soul: | |
| | Ulysses straight, with indignation fired | |
| | (For so the common care of Greece required), | |
| | Firm to his lips his forceful hands applied, | |
| | Till on his tongue the fluttering murmurs died. | |
| | Meantime Minerva, from the fraudful horse, | |
| | Back to the court of Priam bent your course." | |
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| | "Inclement fate! (Telemachus replies,) | |
| | Frail is the boasted attribute of wise: | |
| | The leader mingling with the vulgar host, | |
| | Is in the common mass of matter lost! | |
| | But now let sleep the painful waste repair | |
| | Of sad reflection and corroding care." | |
| | He ceased; the menial fair that round her wait, | |
| | At Helen's beck prepare the room of state; | |
| | Beneath an ample portico they spread | |
| | The downy fleece to form the slumberous bed; | |
| | And o'er soft palls of purple grain unfold | |
| | Rich tapestry, stiff with interwoven gold: | |
| | Then, through the illumined dome, to balmy rest | |
| | The obsequious herald guides each princely guest; | |
| | While to his regal bower the king ascends, | |
| | And beauteous Helen on her lord attends. | |
| | Soon as the morn, in orient purple dress'd, | |
| | Unbarr'd the portal of the roseate east, | |
| | The monarch rose; magnificent to view, | |
| | The imperial mantle o'er his vest he threw; | |
| | The glittering zone athwart his shoulders cast, | |
| | A starry falchion low-depending graced; | |
| | Clasp'd on his feet the embroidered sandals shine; | |
| | And forth he moves, majestic and divine, | |
| | Instant to young Telemachus he press'd; | |
| | And thus benevolent his speech addressed: | |
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| | "Say, royal youth, sincere of soul report | |
| | Whit cause hath led you to the Spartan court? | |
| | Do public or domestic care constrain | |
| | This toilsome voyage o'er the surgy main?" | |
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| | "O highly-flavour'd delegate of Jove! | |
| | (Replies the prince) inflamed with filial love, | |
| | And anxious hope, to hear my parent's doom, | |
| | A suppliant to your royal court I come: | |
| | Our sovereign seat a lewd usurping race | |
| | With lawless riot and misrule disgrace; | |
| | To pamper'd insolence devoted fall | |
| | Prime of the flock, and choicest of the stall: | |
| | For wild ambition wings their bold desire, | |
| | And all to mount the imperial bed aspire. | |
| | But prostrate I implore, O king! relate | |
| | The mournful series of my father's fate: | |
| | Each known disaster of the man disclose, | |
| | Born by his mother to a world of woes! | |
| | Recite them; nor in erring pity fear | |
| | To wound with storied grief the filial ear. | |
| | If e'er Ulysses, to reclaim your right, | |
| | Avow'd his zeal in council or in fight, | |
| | If Phrygian camps the friendly toils attest, | |
| | To the sire's merit give the son's request." | |
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| | Deep from his inmost soul Atrides sigh'd, | |
| | And thus, indignant, to the prince replied: | |
| | "Heavens! would a soft, inglorious, dastard train | |
| | An absent hero's nuptial joys profane! | |
| | So with her young, amid the woodland shades, | |
| | A timorous hind the lion's court invades, | |
| | Leaves in the fatal lair the tender fawns, | |
| | Climbs the green cliff, or feeds the flowery lawns: | |
| | Meantime return'd, with dire remorseless sway, | |
| | The monarch-savage rends the trembling prey. | |
| | With equal fury, and with equal fame, | |
| | Ulysses soon shall reassert his claim. | |
| | O Jove supreme, whom gods and men revere! | |
| | And thou! to whom 'tis given to gild the sphere! | |
| | With power congenial join'd, propitious aid | |
| | The chief adopted by the martial maid! | |
| | Such to our wish the warrior soon restore, | |
| | As when contending on the Lesbian shore | |
| | His prowess Philomelidies confess'd, | |
| | And loud-acclaiming Greeks the victor bless'd; | |
| | Then soon the invaders of his bed and throne | |
| | Their love presumptous shail with life atone. | |
| | With patient ear, O royal youth, attend | |
| | The storied labour of thy father's friend: | |
| | Fruitful of deeds, the copious tale is long, | |
| | But truth severe shall dictate to my tongue: | |
| | Learn what I heard the sea-born seer relate, | |
| | Whose eye can pierce the dark recess of fate. | |
|
|
| | "Long on the Egyptian coast by calms confined, | |
| | Heaven to my fleet refused a prosperous wind; | |
| | No vows had we preferr'd, nor victims slain! | |
| | For this the gods each favouring gale restrain | |
| | Jealous, to see their high behests obey'd; | |
| | Severe, if men the eternal rights evade. | |
| | High o'er a gulfy sea, the Pharian isle | |
| | Fronts the deep roar of disemboguing Nile: | |
| | Her distance from the shore, the course begun | |
| | At dawn, and ending with the setting sun, | |
| | A galley measures; when the stiffer gales | |
| | Rise on the poop, and fully stretch the sails. | |
| | There, anchor'd vessels safe in harbour lie, | |
| | Whilst limpid springs the failing cask supply. | |
|
|
| | "And now the twentieth sun, descending, laves | |
| | His glowing axle in the western waves: | |
| | Still with expanded sails we court in vain | |
| | Propitious winds to waft us o'er the main; | |
| | And the pale mariner at once deplores | |
| | His drooping vigour and exhausted stores. | |
| | When lo! a bright cerulean form appears, | |
| | Proteus her sire divine. With pity press'd, | |
| | Me sole the daughter of the deep address'd; | |
| | What time, with hunger pined, my absent mates | |
| | Roam the wide isle in search of rural cates, | |
| | Bait the barb'd steel, and from the fishy flood | |
| | Appease the afflictive fierce desire of food." | |
|
|
| | "'Whoe'er thou art (the azure goddess cries) | |
| | Thy conduct ill-deserves the praise of wise: | |
| | Is death thy choice, or misery thy boast, | |
| | That here inglorious, on a barren coast, | |
| | Thy brave associates droop, a meagre train, | |
| | With famine pale, and ask thy care in vain?' | |
| | "Struck with the loud reproach, I straight reply: | |
| | 'Whate'er thy title in thy native sky, | |
| | A goddess sure! for more than moral grace | |
| | Speaks thee descendant of ethereal race; | |
| | Deem not that here of choice my fleet remains; | |
| | Some heavenly power averse my stay constrains: | |
| | O, piteous of my fate, vouchsafe to show | |
| | (For what's sequester'd from celestial view?) | |
| | What power becalms the innavigable seas? | |
| | What guilt provokes him, and what vows appease?' | |
|
|
| | "I ceased, when affable the goddess cried: | |
| | 'Observe, and in the truths I speak confide; | |
| | The oracular seer frequents the Pharian coast, | |
| | From whose high bed my birth divine I boast; | |
| | Proteus, a name tremendous o'er the main, | |
| | The delegate of Neptune's watery reign. | |
| | Watch with insidious care his known abode; | |
| | There fast in chains constrain the various god; | |
| | Who bound, obedient to superior force, | |
| | Unerring will prescribe your destined course. | |
| | If, studious on your realms, you then demand | |
| | Their state, since last you left your natal land, | |
| | Instant the god obsequious will disclose | |
| | Bright tracts of glory or a cloud of woes.' | |
|
|
| | "She ceased; and suppliant thus I made reply: | |
| | 'O goddess I on thy aid my hopes rely; | |
| | Dictate propitious to my duteous ear, | |
| | What arts can captivate the changeful seer; | |
| | For perilous the assay, unheard the toil, | |
| | To elude the prescience of a god by guile.' | |
|
|
| | "Thus to the goddess mild my suit I end. | |
| | Then she: 'Obedient to my rule attend: | |
| | When through the zone of heaven the mounted sun | |
| | Hath journeyed half, and half remains to run; | |
| | The seer, while zephyrs curl the swelling deep, | |
| | Basks on the breezy shore, in grateful sleep, | |
| | His oozy limbs. Emerging from the wave, | |
| | The Phocas swift surround his rocky cave, | |
| | Frequent and full; the consecrated train | |
| | Of her, whose azure trident awes the main; | |
| | There wallowing warm, the enormous herd exhales | |
| | An oily steam, and taints the noontide gales. | |
| | To that recess, commodious for surprise, | |
| | When purple light shall next suffuse the skies, | |
| | With me repair; and from thy warrior-band | |
| | Three chosen chiefs of dauntless soul commamd; | |
| | Let their auxiliar force befriend the toil; | |
| | For strong the god, and perfected in guile. | |
| | Strech'd on the shelly shore, he first surveys | |
| | The flouncing herd ascending from the seas; | |
| | Their numher summ'd, reposed in sleep profound | |
| | The scaly charge their guardian god surround; | |
| | So with his battening flocks the careful swain | |
| | Abides pavilion'd on the grassy plain. | |
| | With powers united, obstinately bold, | |
| | Invade him, couch'd amid the scaly fold; | |
| | Instant he wears, elusive of the rape, | |
| | The mimic force of every savage shape; | |
| | Or glides with liquid lapse a murmuring stream, | |
| | Or, wrapp'd in flame, he glows at every limb. | |
| | Yet, still retentive, with redoubled might, | |
| | Through each vain passive form constrain his flight | |
| | But when, his native shape renamed, he stands | |
| | Patient of conquest, and your cause demands; | |
| | The cause that urged the bold attempt declare, | |
| | And soothe the vanquish'd with a victor's prayer. | |
| | The bands releas'd, implore the seer to say | |
| | What godhead interdicts the watery way. | |
| | Who, straight propitious, in prophetic strain | |
| | Will teach you to repass the unmeasured main. | |
| | She ceased, and bounding from the shelfy shore, | |
| | Round the descending nymph the waves resounding roar. | |
|
|
| | "High wrapp'd in wonder of the future deed, | |
| | with joy impetuous to the port I speed: | |
| | The wants of nature with repast suffice, | |
| | Till night with grateful shade involved the skies, | |
| | And shed ambrosial dews. Fast by the deep, | |
| | Along the tented shore, in balmy sleep, | |
| | Our cares were lost. When o'er the eastern lawn, | |
| | In saffron robes, the daughter of the dawn | |
| | Advanced her rosy steps, before the bay | |
| | Due ritual honours to the gods I pay; | |
| | Then seek the place the sea-born nymph assign'd, | |
| | With three associates of undaunted mind. | |
| | Arrived, to form along the appointed strand | |
| | For each a bed, she scoops the hilly sand; | |
| | Then, from her azure cave the finny spoils | |
| | Of four vast Phocae takes, to veil her wiles; | |
| | Beneath the finny spoils extended prone, | |
| | Hard toil! the prophet's piercing eye to shun; | |
| | New from the corse, the scaly frands diffuse | |
| | Unsavoury stench of oil, and brackish ooze; | |
| | But the bright sea-maid's gentle power implored, | |
| | With nectar'd drops the sickening sense restored. | |
|
|
| | "Thus till the sun had travell'd half the skies, | |
| | Ambush'd we lie, and wait the bold emprise; | |
| | When, thronging quick to bask in open air, | |
| | The flocks of ocean to the strand repair; | |
| | Couch'd on the sunny sand, the monsters sleep; | |
| | Then Proteus, mounting from the hoary deep, | |
| | Surveys his charge, unknowing of deceit; | |
| | (In order told, we make the sum complete.) | |
| | Pleased with the false review, secure he lies, | |
| | And leaden slumbers press his drooping eyes. | |
| | Rushing impetuous forth, we straight prepare | |
| | A furious onset with the sound of war, | |
| | And shouting seize the god; our force to evade, | |
| | His various arts he soon resumes in aid; | |
| | A lion now, he curls a surgy mane; | |
| | Sudden our hands a spotted paid restrain; | |
| | Then, arm'd with tusks, and lightning in his eyes, | |
| | A boar's obscener shape the god belies; | |
| | On spiry volumes, there a dragon rides; | |
| | Here, from our strict embrace a stream he glides. | |
| | At last, sublime, his stately growth he rears | |
| | A tree, and well-dissembled foliage wears. | |
| | Vain efforts with superior power compress'd, | |
| | Me with reluctance thus the seer address'd; | |
| | 'Say, son of Atreus, say what god inspired | |
| | This daring fraud, and what the boon desired?' | |
| | I thus: 'O thou, whose certain eye foresees | |
| | The fix'd event of fate's remote decrees; | |
| | After long woes, and various toil endured, | |
| | Still on this desert isle my fleet is moor'd, | |
| | Unfriended of the gales. All-knowing, say, | |
| | What godhead interdicts the watery way? | |
| | What vows repentant will the power appease, | |
| | To speed a prosperous voyage o'er the seas.' | |
|
|
| | "'To Jove (with stern regard the god replies) | |
| | And all the offended synod of the skies, | |
| | Just hecatombs with due devotion slain, | |
| | Thy guilt absolved, a prosperous voyage gain. | |
| | To the firm sanction of thy fate attend! | |
| | An exile thou, nor cheering face of friend, | |
| | Nor sight of natal shore, nor regal dome, | |
| | Shalt yet enjoy, but still art doom'd to roam. | |
| | Once more the Nile, who from the secret source | |
| | Of Jove's high seat descends with sweepy force, | |
| | Must view his billows white beneath thy oar, | |
| | And altars blaze along his sanguine shore. | |
| | Then will the gods with holy pomp adored, | |
| | To thy long vows a safe return accord.' | |
|
|
| | "He ceased: heart wounded with afflictive pain, | |
| | (Doom'd to repeat the perils of the main, | |
| | A shelfy track and long!) 'O seer' I cry, | |
| | 'To the stern sanction of the offended sky | |
| | My prompt obedience bows. But deign to say | |
| | What fate propitious, or what dire dismay, | |
| | Sustain those peers, the relics of our host, | |
| | Whom I with Nestor on the Phrygian coast | |
| | Embracing left? Must I the warriors weep, | |
| | Whelm'd in the bottom of the monstrous deep? | |
| | Or did the kind domestic friend deplore | |
| | The breathless heroes on their native shore? | |
|
|
| | "'Press not too far,' replied the god: 'but cease | |
| | To know what, known, will violate thy peace; | |
| | Too curious of their doom! with friendly woe | |
| | Thy breast will heave, and tears eternal flow. | |
| | Part live! the rest, a lamentable train! | |
| | Range the dark bounds of Pluto's dreary reign. | |
| | Two, foremost in the roll of Mars renown'd, | |
| | Whose arms with conquest in thy cause were crown'd, | |
| | Fell by disastrous fate: by tempests toss'd, | |
| | A third lives wretched on a distant coast. | |
|
|
| | "By Neptune rescued from Minerva's hate, | |
| | On Gyrae, safe Oilean Ajax sate, | |
| | His ship o'erwhelm'd; but, frowning on the floods, | |
| | Impious he roar'd defiance to the gods; | |
| | To his own prowess all the glory gave: | |
| | The power defrauding who vouchsafed to save. | |
| | This heard the raging ruler of the main; | |
| | His spear, indignant for such high disdain, | |
| | He launched; dividing with his forky mace | |
| | The aerial summit from the marble base: | |
| | The rock rush'd seaward, with impetuous roar | |
| | Ingulf'd, and to the abyss the boaster bore. | |
|
|
| | "By Juno's guardian aid, the watery vast, | |
| | Secure of storms, your royal brother pass'd, | |
| | Till, coasting nigh the cape where Malen shrouds | |
| | Her spiry cliffs amid surrounding clouds, | |
| | A whirling gust tumultuous from the shore | |
| | Across the deep his labouring vessel bore. | |
| | In an ill-fated hour the coast he gain'd, | |
| | Where late in regal pomp Thyestes reigned; | |
| | But, when his hoary honours bow'd to fate, | |
| | Aegysthus govern'd in paternal state, | |
| | The surges now subside, the tempest ends; | |
| | From his tall ship the king of men descends; | |
| | There fondly thinks the gods conclude his toil: | |
| | Far from his own domain salutes the soil; | |
| | With rapture oft the urge of Greece reviews, | |
| | And the dear turf with tears of joy bedews. | |
| | Him, thus exulting on the distant stand, | |
| | A spy distinguish'd from his airy stand; | |
| | To bribe whose vigilance, Aegysthus told | |
| | A mighty sum of ill-persuading gold: | |
| | There watch'd this guardian of his guilty fear, | |
| | Till the twelfth moon had wheel'd her pale career; | |
| | And now, admonish'd by his eye, to court | |
| | With terror wing'd conveys the dread report. | |
| | Of deathful arts expert, his lord employs | |
| | The ministers of blood in dark surprise; | |
| | And twenty youths, in radiant mail incased, | |
| | Close amhush'd nigh the spacious hall he placed. | |
| | Then bids prepare the hospitable treat: | |
| | Vain shows of love to veil his felon hate! | |
| | To grace the victor's welcome from the wars, | |
| | A train of coursers and triumphal cars | |
| | Magnificent he leads: the royal guest, | |
| | Thoughtless of ill, accepts the fraudful feast. | |
| | The troop forth-issuing from the dark recess, | |
| | With homicidal rage the king oppress! | |
| | So, whilst he feeds luxurious in the stall, | |
| | The sovereign of the herd is doomed to fall, | |
| | The partners of his fame and toils at Troy, | |
| | Around their lord, a mighty ruin, lie: | |
| | Mix'd with the brave, the base invaders bleed; | |
| | Aegysthus sole survives to boast the deed." | |
|
|
| | He said: chill horrors shook my shivering soul, | |
| | Rack'd wish convulsive pangs in dust I roll; | |
| | And hate, in madness of extreme despair, | |
| | To view the sun, or breathe the vital air. | |
| | But when, superior to the rage of woe, | |
| | I stood restored and tears had ceased to flow, | |
| | Lenient of grief the pitying god began: | |
| | 'Forget the brother, and resume the man. | |
| | To Fate's supreme dispose the dead resign, | |
| | That care be Fate's, a speedy passage thine | |
| | Still lives the wretch who wrought the death deplored, | |
| | But lives a victim for thy vengeful sword; | |
| | Unless with filial rage Orestes glow, | |
| | And swift prevent the meditated blow: | |
| | You timely will return a welcome guest, | |
| | With him to share the sad funereal feast." | |
|
|
| | "He said: new thoughts my beating heart employ, | |
| | My gloomy soul receives a gleam of joy. | |
| | Fair hope revives; and eager I address'd | |
| | The prescient godhead to reveal the rest: | |
| | 'The doom decreed of those disastrous two | |
| | I've heard with pain, but oh! the tale pursue; | |
| | What third brave son of Mars the Fates constrain | |
| | To roam the howling desert of the main; | |
| | Or, in eternal shade of cold he lies, | |
| | Provoke new sorrows from these grateful eyes.' | |
|
|
| | "'That chief (rejoin'd the god) his race derives | |
| | From Ithaca, and wondrous woes survives; | |
| | Laertes' son: girt with circumfluous tides, | |
| | He still calamitous constraint abides. | |
| | Him in Calypso's cave of late! view'd, | |
| | When streaming grief his faded cheek bedow'd. | |
| | But vain his prayer, his arts are vain, to move | |
| | The enamour'd goddess, or elude her love: | |
| | His vessel sunk, and dear companions lost, | |
| | He lives reluctant on a foreign coast. | |
| | But oh, beloved by Heaven! reserved to thee | |
| | A happier lot the smiling Fates decree: | |
| | Free from that law, beneath whose mortal sway | |
| | Matter is changed, and varying forms decay, | |
| | Elysium shall be thine: the blissful plains | |
| | Of utmost earth, where Rhadamanthus reigns. | |
| | Joys ever young, unmix'd with pain or fear, | |
| | Fill the wide circle of the eternal year: | |
| | Stern winter smiles on that auspicious clime: | |
| | The fields are florid with unfading prime; | |
| | From the bleak pole no winds inclement blow, | |
| | Mould the round hail, or flake the fleecy snow; | |
| | But from the breezy deep the blest inhale | |
| | The fragrant murmurs of the western gale. | |
| | This grace peculiar will the gods afford | |
| | To thee, the son of Jove, and beauteous Helen's lord.' | |
|
|
| | "He ceased, and plugning in the vast profound, | |
| | Beneath the god and whirling billows bound. | |
| | Then speeding back, involved in various thought, | |
| | My friends attending at the shore I sought, | |
| | Arrived, the rage of hunger we control | |
| | Till night with silent shade invests the pole; | |
| | Then lose the cares of life in pleasing rest. | |
| | Soon as the morn reveals the roseate east, | |
| | With sails we wing the masts, our anchors weigh, | |
| | Unmoor the fleet, and rush into the sea. | |
| | Ranged on the banks, beneath our equal oars | |
| | White curl the waves, and the vex'd ocean roars | |
| | Then, steering backward from the Pharian isle, | |
| | We gain the stream of Jove-descended Nile; | |
| | There quit the ships, and on the destined shore | |
| | With ritual hecatombs the gods adore; | |
| | Their wrath atoned, to Agamemnon's name | |
| | A cenotaph I raise of deathless fame. | |
| | These rites to piety and grief discharged, | |
| | The friendly gods a springing gale enlarged; | |
| | The fleet swift tilting o'er the surges flew, | |
| | Till Grecian cliffs appear'd a blissful view! | |
|
|
| | "Thy patient ear hath heard me long relate | |
| | A story, fruitful of disastrous fate. | |
| | And now, young prince, indulge my fond request; | |
| | Be Sparta honoured with his royal guest, | |
| | Till, from his eastern goal, the joyous sun | |
| | His twelfth diurnal race begins to run. | |
| | Meantime my train the friendly gifts prepare, | |
| | The sprightly coursers and a polish'd car; | |
| | With these a goblet of capacious mould, | |
| | Figured with art to dignify the gold | |
| | (Form'd for libation to the gods), shall prove | |
| | A pledge and monument of sacred love." | |
|
|
| | "My quick return (young Ithacus rejoin'd), | |
| | Damps the warm wishes of my raptured mind; | |
| | Did not my fate my needful haste constrain, | |
| | Charm'd by your speech so graceful and humane, | |
| | Lost in delight the circling year would roll, | |
| | While deep attention fix'd my listening soul. | |
| | But now to Pyle permit my destined way, | |
| | My loved associates chide my long delay: | |
| | In dear remembrance of your royal grace, | |
| | I take the present of the promised vase; | |
| | The coursers, for the champaign sports retain; | |
| | That gift our barren rocks will render vain: | |
| | Horrid with cliffs, our meagre land allows | |
| | Thin herbage for the mountain goat to browse, | |
| | But neither mead nor plain supplies, to feed | |
| | The sprightly courser, or indulge his speed: | |
| | To sea-surrounded realms the gods assign | |
| | Small tract of fertile lawn, the least to mine." | |
|
|
| | His hand the king with tender passion press'd, | |
| | And, smiling, thus the royal youth address'd: | |
| | "O early worth! a soul so wise, and young, | |
| | Proclaims you from the sage Ulysses sprung. | |
| | Selected from my stores, of matchless price, | |
| | An urn shall recompense your prudent choice; | |
| | By Vulcan's art, the verge with gold enchased. | |
| | A pledge the sceptred power of Sidon gave, | |
| | When to his realm I plough'd the orient wave." | |
|
|
| | Thus they alternate; while, with artful care, | |
| | The menial train the regal feast prepare. | |
| | The firstlings of the flock are doom'd to die: | |
| | Rich fragrant wines the cheering bowl supply; | |
| | A female band the gift of Ceres bring; | |
| | And the gilt roofs with genial triumph ring. | |
|
|
| | Meanwhile, in Ithaca, the suitor powers | |
| | In active games divide their jovial hours; | |
| | In areas varied with mosaic art, | |
| | Some whirl the disk, and some the javelin dart, | |
| | Aside, sequester'd from the vast resort, | |
| | Antinous sole spectator of the sport; | |
| | With great Eurymachus, of worth confess'd, | |
| | And high descent, superior to the rest; | |
| | Whom young Noemon lowly thus address'd:— | |
|
|
| | "My ship, equipp'd within the neighboring port, | |
| | The prince, departing for the Pylian court, | |
| | Requested for his speed; but, courteous, say | |
| | When steers he home, or why this long delay? | |
| | For Elis I should sail with utmost speed. | |
| | To import twelve mares which there luxurious feed, | |
| | And twelve young mules, a strong laborious race, | |
| | New to the plow, unpractised in the trace." | |
|
|
| | Unknowing of the course to Pyle design'd, | |
| | A sudden horror seized on either mind; | |
| | The prince in rural bower they fondly thought, | |
| | Numbering his flocks and herds, not far remote. | |
| | "Relate (Antinous cries), devoid of guile, | |
| | When spread the prince his sale for distant Pyle? | |
| | Did chosen chiefs across the gulfy main | |
| | Attend his voyage, or domestic train? | |
| | Spontaneous did you speed his secret course, | |
| | Or was the vessel seized by fraud or force?" | |
|
|
| | "With willing duty, not reluctant mind | |
| | (Noemon cried), the vessel was resign'd, | |
| | Who, in the balance, with the great affairs | |
| | Of courts presume to weigh their private cares? | |
| | With him, the peerage next in power to you; | |
| | And Mentor, captain of the lordly crew, | |
| | Or some celestial in his reverend form, | |
| | Safe from the secret rock and adverse storm, | |
| | Pilot's the course; for when the glimmerering ray | |
| | Of yester dawn disclosed the tender day, | |
| | Mentor himself I saw, and much admired," | |
| | Then ceased the youth, and from the court retired. | |
|
|
| | Confounded and appall'd, the unfinish'd game | |
| | The suitors quit, and all to council came. | |
| | Antinous first the assembled peers address'd. | |
| | Rage sparkling in his eyes, and burning in his breast | |
|
|
| | "O shame to manhood! shall one daring boy | |
| | The scheme of all our happiness destroy? | |
| | Fly unperceived, seducing half the flower | |
| | Of nobles, and invite a foreign power? | |
| | The ponderous engine raised to crush us all, | |
| | Recoiling, on his head is sure to fall. | |
| | Instant prepare me, on the neighbouring strand, | |
| | With twenty chosen mates a vessel mann'd; | |
| | For ambush'd close beneath the Samian shore | |
| | His ship returning shall my spies explore; | |
| | He soon his rashness shall with life atone, | |
| | Seek for his father's fate, but find his own." | |
|
|
| | With vast applause the sentence all approve; | |
| | Then rise, and to the feastful hall remove; | |
| | Swift to the queen the herald Medon ran, | |
| | Who heard the consult of the dire divan: | |
| | Before her dome the royal matron stands, | |
| | And thus the message of his haste demands; | |
|
|
| | "What will the suitors? must my servant-train | |
| | The allotted labours of the day refrain, | |
| | For them to form some exquisite repast? | |
| | Heaven grant this festival may prove their last! | |
| | Or, if they still must live, from me remove | |
| | The double plague of luxury and love! | |
| | Forbear, ye sons of insolence! forbear, | |
| | In riot to consume a wretched heir. | |
| | In the young soul illustrious thought to raise, | |
| | Were ye not tutor'd with Ulysses' praise? | |
| | Have not your fathers oft my lord defined, | |
| | Gentle of speech, beneficent of mind? | |
| | Some kings with arbitrary rage devour, | |
| |
|