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

will not aid thee, since their spirits rely,

       ‭ Against thy rule, on some grave augury?

       ‭ What know they, but at length thy father may

       ‭ Come, and with violence their violence pay;

       ‭ Or he alone, or all the Greeks with him?

       ‭ But if Minerva now did so esteem

       ‭ Thee, as thy father in times past; whom, past

       ‭ All measure, she with glorious favours grac’t

       ‭ Amongst the Trojans, where we suffer’d so;

       ‭ (O! I did never see, in such clear show,

       ‭ The Gods so grace a man, as she to him,

       ‭ To all our eyes, appear’d in all her trim)

       ‭ If so, I say, she would be pleas’d to love,

       ‭ And that her mind’s care thou so much couldst move,

       ‭ As did thy father, ev’ry man of these

       ‭ Would lose in death their seeking marriages.”

       ‭ “O father,” answer’d he, “you make amaze

       ‭ Seize me throughout. Beyond the height of phrase

       ‭ You raise expression; but ’twill never be,

       ‭ That I shall move in any Deity

       ‭ So blest an honour. Not by any means,

       ‭ If Hope should prompt me, or blind Confidence,

       ‭ (The Gods of Fools) or ev’ry Deity

       ‭ Should will it; for ’tis past my destiny.”

       ‭ The burning-eyed Dame answer’d: “What a speech

       ‭ Hath past the teeth-guard Nature gave to teach

       ‭ Fit question of thy words before they fly!

       ‭ God easily can [1] (when to mortal eye

       ‭ He’s furthest off) a mortal satisfy;

       ‭ And does the more still. For thy car’d-for sire,

       ‭ I rather wish, that I might home retire,

       ‭ After my suff’rance of a world of woes,

       ‭ Far off, and then my glad eyes might disclose

       ‭ The day of my return, then straight retire,

       ‭ And perish standing by my household fire;

       ‭ As Agamemnon did, that lost his life

       ‭ By false Ægisthus, and his falser wife.

       ‭ For Death to come at length, ’tis due to all;

       ‭ Nor can the Gods themselves, when Fate shall call

       ‭ Their most-lov’d man, extend his vital breath

       ‭ Beyond the fix’d bounds of abhorréd Death.”

       ‭ “Mentor!” said he, “let’s dwell no more on this,

       ‭ Although in us the sorrow pious is.

       ‭ No such return, as we wish, Fates bequeath

       ‭ My erring father; whom a present death

       ‭ The Deathless have decreed. I’ll now use speech

       ‭ That tends to other purpose; and beseech

       ‭ Instruction of grave Nestor, since he flows

       ‭ Past shore in all experience, and knows

       ‭ The sleights and wisdoms, and whose heights aspire

       ‭ Others, as well as my commended sire,

       ‭ Whom Fame reports to have commanded three

       ‭ Ages of men, and doth in sight to me

       ‭ Show like th’ Immortals. Nestor! the renown

       ‭ Of old Neleius, make the clear truth known,

       ‭ How the most-great-in-empire, Atreus’ son,

       ‭ Sustain’d the act of his destruction,

       ‭ Where then was Menelaus? How was it

       ‭ That false Ægisthus, being so far unfit

       ‭ A match for him, could his death so enforce?

       ‭ Was he not then in Argos? or his course

       ‭ With men so left, to let a coward breathe

       ‭ Spirit enough to dare his brother’s death?”

       ‭ “I’ll tell thee truth in all, fair son,” said he:

       ‭ “Right well was this event conceiv’d by thee.

       ‭ If Menelaus in his brother’s house

       ‭ Had found the idle liver with his spouse,

       ‭ Arriv’d from Troy, he had not liv’d, nor dead

       ‭ Had the digg’d heap pour’d on his lustful head,

       ‭ But fowls and dogs had torn him in the fields,

       ‭ Far off of Argos; not a dame it yields

       ‭ Had giv’n him any tear, so foul his fact

       ‭ Show’d ev’n to women. Us Troy’s wars had rack’d

       ‭ To ev’ry sinew’s sufferance, while he

       ‭ In Argos’ uplands liv’d, from those works free,

       ‭ And Agamemnon’s wife with force of word

       ‭ Flatter’d and soften’d, who, at first, abhorr’d

       ‭ A fact so infamous. The heav’nly dame

       ‭ A good mind had, but was in blood to blame.

       ‭ There was a poet, to whose care the king

       ‭ His queen committed, and in ev’ry thing,

       ‭ When he from Troy went, charg’d him to apply

       ‭ Himself in all guard to her dignity.

       ‭ But when strong Fate so wrapt-in her effects,

       ‭ That she resolv’d to leave her fit respects,

       ‭ Into a desert isle her guardian led,

       ‭ There left, the rapine of the vultures fed.

       ‭ Then brought he willing home his will’s won prize,

       ‭ On sacred altars offer’d many thighs,

       ‭ Hung in the God’s fanes many ornaments,

       ‭ Garments and gold, that he the vast events

       ‭ Of such a labour to his wish had brought,

       ‭ As neither fell into his hope nor thought.

       ‭ At last, from Troy sail’d Sparta’s king and I,

       ‭ Both holding her untouch’d. And, that his eye

       ‭ Might see no worse of her, when both were blown

       ‭ To sacred Sunium, of Minerva’s town

       ‭ The goodly promontory, with his shafts severe

       ‭ Augur Apollo slew him that did steer

       ‭ Atrides’ ship, as he the stern did guide,

       ‭ And she the full speed of her sail applied.

       ‭ He was a man that natións of men

       ‭ Excell’d in safe guide of a vessel, when

       ‭ A tempest rush’d in on the ruffled seas;

       ‭ His name was Phrontis Onetorides.

       ‭ And thus was Menelaus held from home,

       ‭