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

‭ Old Nestor says, there lives not such a one

       ‭ Amongst all mortals as Atrides is

       ‭ For deathless wisdom. ’Tis a praise of his,

       ‭ Still giv’n in your remembrance, when at home

       ‭ Our speech concerns you. Since then overcome

       ‭ You please to be with sorrow, ev’n to tears,

       ‭ That are in wisdom so exempt from peers,

       ‭ Vouchsafe the like effect in me excuse,

       ‭ If it be lawful, I affect no use

       ‭ Of tears thus after meals; at least, at night;

       ‭ But when the morn brings forth, with tears, her light,

       ‭ It shall not then impair me to bestow

       ‭ My tears on any worthy’s overthrow.

       ‭ It is the only rite that wretched men

       ‭ Can do dead friends, to cut hair, and complain.

       ‭ But Death my brother took, whom none could call

       ‭ The Grecian coward, you best knew of all.

       ‭ I was not there, nor saw, but men report

       ‭ Antilochus excell’d the common sort

       ‭ For footmanship, or for the chariot race,

       ‭ Or in the fight for hardy hold of place.”

       ‭ “O friend,” said he, “since thou hast spoken so,

       ‭ At all parts as one wise should say and do,

       ‭ And like one far beyond thyself in years,

       ‭ Thy words shall bounds be to our former tears.

       ‭ O he is questionless a right-born son,

       ‭ That of his father hath not only won

       ‭ The person but the wisdom; and that sire

       ‭ Complete himself that hath a son entire,

       ‭ Jove did not only his full fate adorn,

       ‭ When he was wedded, but when he was born.

       ‭ As now Saturnius, through his life’s whole date,

       ‭ Hath Nestor’s bliss rais’d to as steep a state,

       ‭ Both in his age to keep in peace his house,

       ‭ And to have children wise and valorous.

       ‭ But let us not forget our rear feast thus.

       ‭ Let some give water here. Telemachus!

       ‭ The morning shall yield time to you and me

       ‭ To do what fits, and reason mutually.”

       ‭ This said, the careful servant of the king,

       ‭ Asphalion, pour’d on th’ issue of the spring;

       ‭ And all to ready feast set ready hand.

       ‭ But Helen now on new device did stand,

       ‭ Infusing straight a medicine to their wine,

       ‭ That, drowning care and angers; did decline

       ‭ All thought of ill. Who drunk her cup could shed

       ‭ All that day not a tear, no not if dead

       ‭ That day his father or his mother were,

       ‭ Not if his brother, child, or chiefest dear,

       ‭ He should see murder’d then before his face.

       ‭ Such useful medicines, only borne in grace

       ‭ Of what was good, would Helen ever have.

       ‭ And this juice to her Polydamna gave

       ‭ The wife of Thoon, an Ægyptian born,

       ‭ Whose rich earth herbs of medicine do adorn

       ‭ In great abundance. Many healthful are,

       ‭ And many baneful. Ev’ry man is there

       ‭ A good physician out of Nature’s grace,

       ‭ For all the nation sprung of Pæon’s race.

       ‭ When Helen then her medicine had infus’d,

       ‭ She bad pour wine to it, and this speech us’d:

       ‭ “Atrides, and these good men’s sons, great Jove

       ‭ Makes good and ill one after other move,

       ‭ In all things earthly; for he can do all.

       ‭ The woes past, therefore, he so late let fall,

       ‭ The comforts he affords us let us take;

       ‭ Feast, and, with fit discourses, merry make.

       ‭ Nor will I other use. As then our blood

       ‭ Griev’d for Ulysses, since he was so good,

       ‭ Since he was good, let us delight to hear

       ‭ How good he was, and what his suff’rings were;

       ‭ Though ev’ry fight, and ev’ry suff’ring deed,

       ‭ Patient Ulysses underwent, exceed

       ‭ My woman’s pow’r to number, or to name.

       ‭ But what he did, and suffer’d, when he came

       ‭ Amongst the Trojans, where ye Grecians all

       ‭ Took part with suff’rance, I in part can call

       ‭ To your kind memories. How with ghastly wounds

       ‭ Himself he mangled, and the Trojan bounds,

       ‭ Thrust thick with enemies, adventur’d on,

       ‭ His royal shoulders having cast upon

       ‭ Base abject weeds, and enter’d like a slave.

       ‭ Then, beggar-like, he did of all men crave,

       ‭ And such a wretch was, as the whole Greek fleet

       ‭ Brought not besides. And thus through ev’ry street

       ‭ He crept discov’ring, of no one man known.

       ‭ And yet through all this diff’rence, I alone

       ‭ Smoked his true person, talk’d with him; but he

       ‭ Fled me with wiles still. Nor could we agree,

       ‭ Till I disclaim’d him quite; and so (as mov’d

       ‭ With womanly remorse of one that prov’d

       ‭ So wretched an estate, whate’er he were)

       ‭ Won him to take my house. And yet ev’n there,

       ‭ Till freely I, to make him doubtless, swore

       ‭ A pow’rful oath, to let him reach the shore

       ‭ Of ships and tents before Troy understood,

       ‭ I could not force on him his proper good.

       ‭ But then I bath’d and sooth’d him, and he then

       ‭ Confess’d, and told me all; and, having slain

       ‭ A number of the Trojan guards, retir’d,

       ‭ And reach’d the fleet, for sleight and force admir’d.

       ‭ Their husbands’ deaths by him the Trojan wives

       ‭ Shriek’d for; but I made triumphs for their lives,

       ‭ For then my heart conceiv’d, that once again

       ‭ I should reach home; and yet did still retain

       ‭ Woe for the slaughters Venus made for me,