The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems. Homer

‭ This bowl of sweet wine on your friend, that he

       ‭ May likewise use these rites of piety;

       ‭ For I suppose his youth doth prayers use,

       ‭ Since all men need the Gods. But you I choose

       ‭ First in this cup’s disposure, since his years

       ‭ Seem short of yours, who more like me appears.”

       ‭ Thus gave he her the cup of pleasant wine;

       ‭ And since a wise and just man did design

       ‭ The golden bowl first to her free receit,

       ‭ Ev’n to the Goddess it did add delight,

       ‭ Who thus invok’d: “Hear thou, whose vast embrace

       ‭ Enspheres the whole earth, nor disdain thy grace

       ‭ To us that ask it in performing this:

       ‭ To Nestor first, and these fair sons of his,

       ‭ Vouchsafe all honour; and, next them, bestow

       ‭ On all these Pylians, that have offer’d now

       ‭ This most renowned hecatomb to thee,

       ‭ Remuneration fit for them, and free;

       ‭ And lastly deign Telemachus and me,

       ‭ The work perform’d for whose effect we came,

       ‭ Our safe return, both with our ship and fame.”

       ‭ Thus pray’d she; and herself herself obey’d,

       ‭ In th’ end performing all for which she pray’d.

       ‭ And now, to pray, and do as she had done,

       ‭ She gave the fair round bowl t’ Ulysses’ son.

       ‭ The meat then dress’d, and drawn, and serv’d t’ each guest,

       ‭ They celebrated a most sumptuous feast.

       ‭ When appetite to wine and food allay’d,

       ‭ Horse-taming Nestor then began, and said:

       ‭ “Now life’s desire is serv’d, as far as fare,

       ‭ Time fits me to enquire what guests these are.

       ‭ Fair guests, what are ye? And for what coast tries

       ‭ Your ship the moist deeps? For fit merchandise?

       ‭ Or rudely coast ye, like our men of prise,

       ‭ The rough seas tempting, desperately erring,

       ‭ The ill of others in their good conferring?”

       ‭ The wise prince now his boldness did begin,

       ‭ For Pallas’ self had harden’d him within,

       ‭ By this device of travel to explore

       ‭ His absent father; which two girlonds wore;

       ‭ His good by manage of his spirits; and then

       ‭ To gain him high grace in th’ accounts of men.

       ‭ “O Nestor! still in whom Nelëus lives!

       ‭ And all the glory of the Greeks survives,

       ‭ You ask from whence we are, and I relate:

       ‭ From Ithaca (whose seat is situate

       ‭ Where Neius, the renownéd mountain, rears

       ‭ His haughty forehead, and the honour bears

       ‭ To be our sea-mark) we assay’d the waves.

       ‭ The business, I must tell, our own good craves,

       ‭ And not the public. I am come t’ enquire,

       ‭ If, in the fame that best men doth inspire

       ‭ Of my most-suff’ring father, I may hear

       ‭ Some truth of his estate now, who did bear

       ‭ The name, being join’d in fight with you alone,

       ‭ To even with earth the height of Ilion.

       ‭ Of all men else, that any name did bear,

       ‭ And fought for Troy, the sev’ral ends we hear;

       ‭ But his death Jove keeps from the world unknown,

       ‭ The certain fame thereof being told by none;

       ‭ If on the continent by enemies slain,

       ‭ Or with the waves eat of the ravenous main.

       ‭ For his love ’tis that to your knees I sue,

       ‭ That you would please, out of your own clear view,

       ‭ T’ assure his sad end; or say, if your ear

       ‭ Hath heard of the unhappy wanderer,

       ‭ To too much sorrow whom his mother bore.

       ‭ You then by all your bounties I implore,

       ‭ (If ever to you deed or word hath stood,

       ‭ By my good father promis’d, render’d good

       ‭ Amongst the Trojans, where ye both have tried

       ‭ The Grecian suff’rance) that in nought applied

       ‭ To my respect or pity you will glose,

       ‭ But uncloth’d truth to my desires disclose.”

       ‭ “O my much-lov’d,” said he, “since you renew

       ‭ Remembrance of the miseries that grew

       ‭ Upon our still-in-strength-opposing Greece

       ‭ Amongst Troy’s people, I must touch a piece

       ‭ Of all our woes there, either in the men

       ‭ Achilles brought by sea and led to gain

       ‭ About the country, or in us that fought

       ‭ About the city, where to death were brought

       ‭ All our chief men, as many as were there.

       ‭ There Mars-like Ajax lies; Achilles there;

       ‭ There the in-counsel-like-the-Gods, his friend;

       ‭ There my dear son Antilochus took end,

       ‭ Past measure swift of foot, and staid in fight.

       ‭ A number more that ills felt infinite;

       ‭ Of which to reckon all, what mortal man,

       ‭ If five or six years you should stay here, can

       ‭ Serve such enquiry? You would back again,

       ‭ Affected with unsufferable pain,

       ‭ Before you heard it. Nine years sieg’d we them,

       ‭ With all the depth and sleight of stratagem

       ‭ That could be thought. Ill knit to ill past end.

       ‭ Yet still they toil’d us; nor would yet Jove send

       ‭ Rest to our labours, nor will scarcely yet.

       ‭ But no man liv’d, that would in public set

       ‭ His wisdom by Ulysses’ policy,

       ‭ As thought his equal; so excessively

       ‭ He stood superior all ways. If you be

       ‭ His son indeed, mine eyes ev’n ravish me

       ‭ To admiration. And in all consent

       ‭ Your speech puts on his speech’s ornament.

       ‭ Nor would one say, that one so young could use,

       ‭ Unless his son, a rhetoric so profuse.

       ‭ And while we liv’d together,