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

know

       ‭ If life or death detain him; since such woe

       ‭ For his love, old Laërtes, his wise wife,

       ‭ And poor young son sustains, whom new with life

       ‭ He left as sireless.” This speech grief to tears

       ‭ (Pour’d from the son’s lids on the earth) his ears,

       ‭ Told of the father, did excite; who kept

       ‭ His cheeks dry with his red weed as he wept,

       ‭ His both hands us’d therein. Atrides then

       ‭ Began to know him, and did strife retain,

       ‭ If he should let himself confess his sire,

       ‭ Or with all fitting circumstance enquire.

       ‭ While this his thoughts disputed, forth did shine,

       ‭ Like to the golden distaff-deck’d Divine,

       ‭ From her bed’s high and odoriferous room,

       ‭ Helen. To whom, of an elaborate loom,

       ‭ Adresta set a chair; Alcippe brought

       ‭ A piece of tapestry of fine wool wrought;

       ‭ Phylo a silver cabinet conferr’d,

       ‭ Giv’n by Alcandra, nuptially endear’d

       ‭ To lord Polybius, whose abode in Thebes

       ‭ Th’ Ægyptian city was, where wealth in heaps

       ‭ His famous house held, out of which did go,

       ‭ In gift t’ Atrides, silver bath-tubs two,

       ‭ Two tripods, and of fine gold talents ten.

       ‭ His wife did likewise send to Helen then

       ‭ Fair gifts, a distaff that of gold was wrought,

       ‭ And that rich cabinet that Phylo brought,

       ‭ Round, and with gold ribb’d, now of fine thread full;

       ‭ On which extended (crown‘d with finest wool,

       ‭ Of violet gloss) the golden distaff-lay.

       ‭ She took her state-chair, and a foot-stool’s stay

       ‭ Had for her feet; and of her husband thus

       ‭ Ask’d to know all things: “Is it known to us,

       ‭ King Menelaus, whom these men commend

       ‭ Themselves for, that our court now takes to friend?

       ‭ I must affirm, be I deceiv’d or no,

       ‭ I never yet saw man nor woman so

       ‭ Like one another, as this man is like

       ‭ Ulysses’ son. With admiration strike

       ‭ His looks my thoughts, that they should carry now

       ‭ Pow’r to persuade me thus, who did but know,

       ‭ When newly he was born, the form they bore.

       ‭ But ’tis his father’s grace, whom more and more

       ‭ His grace resembles, that makes me retain

       ‭ Thought that he now is like Telemachus, then

       ‭ Left by his sire, when Greece did undertake

       ‭ Troy’s bold war for my impudency’s sake.”

       ‭ He answer’d: “Now wife, what you think I know,

       ‭ The true cast of his father’s eye doth show

       ‭ In his eyes’ order. Both his head and hair,

       ‭ His hands and feet, his very father’s are.

       ‭ Of whom, so well remember’d, I should now

       ‭ Acknowledge for me his continual flow

       ‭ Of cares and perils, yet still patient.

       ‭ But I should too much move him, that doth vent

       ‭ Such bitter tears for that which hath been spoke,

       ‭ Which, shunning soft show, see how he would cloak,

       ‭ And with his purple weed his weepings hide.”

       ‭ Then Nestor’s son, Pisistratus, replied:

       ‭ “Great pastor of the people, kept of God!

       ‭ He is Ulysses’ son, but his abode

       ‭ Not made before here, and he modest too,

       ‭ He holds it an indignity to do

       ‭ A deed so vain, to use the boast of words,

       ‭ Where your words are on wing; whose voice affords

       ‭ Delight to us as if a God did break

       ‭ The air amongst us, and vouchsafe to speak.

       ‭ But me my father, old duke Nestor, sent

       ‭ To be his consort hither; his content

       ‭ Not to be heighten’d so as with your sight,

       ‭ In hope that therewith words and actions might

       ‭ Inform his comforts from you, since he is

       ‭ Extremely griev’d and injur’d by the miss

       ‭ Of his great father; suff’ring ev’n at home,

       ‭ And few friends found to help him overcome

       ‭ His too weak suff’rance, now his sire is gone;

       ‭ Amongst the people, not afforded one

       ‭ To check the miseries that mate him thus.

       ‭ And this the state is of Telemachus.”

       ‭ “O Gods,” said he, “how certain, now, I see

       ‭ My house enjoys that friend’s son, that for me

       ‭ Hath undergone so many willing fights!

       ‭ Whom I resolv’d, past all the Grecian knights,

       ‭ To hold in love, if our return by seas

       ‭ The far-off Thunderer did ever please

       ‭ To grant our wishes. And to his respect

       ‭ A palace and a city to erect,

       ‭ My vow had bound me; whither bringing then

       ‭ His riches, and his son, and all his men,

       ‭ From barren Ithaca, (some one sole town

       ‭ Inhabited about him batter’d down)

       ‭ All should in Argos live. And there would I

       ‭ Ease him of rule, and take the empery

       ‭ Of all on me. And often here would we,

       ‭ Delighting, loving either’s company,

       ‭ Meet and converse; whom nothing should divide,

       ‭ Till death’s black veil did each all over hide.

       ‭ But this perhaps hath been a mean to take

       ‭ Ev’n God himself with envy; who did make

       ‭ Ulysses therefore only the unblest,

       ‭ That should not reach his loved country’s rest.”

       ‭ These woes made ev’ry one with woe in love;

       ‭ Ev’n Argive Helen wept, the Seed of Jove;

       ‭ Ulysses’ son wept; Atreus’ son did weep;

       ‭ And Nestor’s son his eyes in tears did steep,

       ‭ But his tears fell not from the present cloud