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Nor herald sword the session to proclaim),

       Sour with debauch, a reeling tribe the came.

       To these the cause of meeting they explain,

       And Menelaus moves to cross the main;

       Not so the king of men: be will'd to stay,

       The sacred rites and hecatombs to pay,

       And calm Minerva's wrath. Oh blind to fate!

       The gods not lightly change their love, or hate.

       With ireful taunts each other they oppose,

       Till in loud tumult all the Greeks arose.

       Now different counsels every breast divide,

       Each burns with rancour to the adverse side;

       The unquiet night strange projects entertain'd

       (So Jove, that urged us to our fate, ordain'd).

       We with the rising morn our ships unmoor'd,

       And brought our captives and our stores aboard;

       But half the people with respect obey'd

       The king of men, and at his bidding stay'd.

       Now on the wings of winds our course we keep

       (For God had smooth'd the waters of the deep);

       For Tenedos we spread our eager oars,

       There land, and pay due victims to the powers;

       To bless our safe return, we join in prayer;

       But angry Jove dispersed our vows in air,

       And raised new discord. Then (so Heaven decreed)

       Ulysses first and Neator disagreed!

       Wise as he was, by various counsels away'd,

       He there, though late, to please the monarch, stay'd.

       But I, determined, stem the foamy floods,

       Warn'd of the coming fury of the gods.

       With us, Tydides fear'd, and urged his haste:

       And Menelaus came, but came the last,

       He join'd our vessels in the Lesbian bay,

       While yet we doubted of our watery way;

       If to the right to urge the pilot's toil

       (The safer road), beside the Psyrian isle;

       Or the straight course to rocky Chios plough,

       And anchor under Mimas' shaggy brow?

       We sought direction of the power divine:

       The god propitious gave the guiding sign;

       Through the mid seas he bid our navy steer,

       And in Euboea shun the woes we fear.

       The whistling winds already waked the sky;

       Before the whistling winds the vessels fly,

       With rapid swiftness cut the liquid way,

       And reach Gerestus at the point of day.

       There hecacombs of bulls, to Neptune slain,

       High-flaming please the monarch of the main.

       The fourth day shone, when all their labours o'er,

       Tydides' vessels touched the wish'd-for shore.

       But I to Pylos scud before the gales,

       The god still breathing on my swelling sails;

       Separate from all, I safely landed here;

       Their fates or fortunes never reach'd my ear.

       Yet what I learn'd, attend; as here I sat,

       And ask'd each voyager each hero's fate;

       Curious to know, and willing to relate.

       "Safe reach'd the Myrmidons their native land,

       Beneath Achilles' warlike son's command.

       Those, whom the heir of great Apollo's art,

       Brave Philoctetes, taught to wing the dart;

       And those whom Idomen from Ilion's plain

       Had led, securely cross'd the dreadful main

       How Agamemnon touch'd his Argive coast,

       And how his life by fraud and force he lost,

       And how the murderer, paid his forfeit breath;

       What lands so distant from that scene of death

       But trembling heard the fame? and heard, admire.

       How well the son appeased his slaughter'd sire!

       Ev'n to the unhappy, that unjustly bleed,

       Heaven gives posterity, to avenge the deed.

       So fell Aegysthus; and mayest thou, my friend,

       (On whom the virtues of thy sire descend,)

       Make future times thy equal act adore,

       And be what brave Orestes was before!"

       The prudent youth replied: "O thou the grace

       And lasting glory of the Grecian race!

       Just was the vengeance, and to latest days

       Shall long posterity resound the praise.

       Some god this arm with equal prowess bless!

       And the proud suitors shall its force confess;

       Injurious men! who while my soul is sore

       Of fresh affronts, are meditating more.

       But Heaven denies this honour to my hand,

       Nor shall my father repossess the land;

       The father's fortune never to return,

       And the sad son's to softer and to mourn!"

       Thus he; and Nestor took the word: "My son,

       Is it then true, as distant rumours run,

       That crowds of rivals for thy mother's charms

       Thy palace fill with insults and alarms?

       Say, is the fault, through tame submission, thine?

       Or leagued against thee, do thy people join,

       Moved by some oracle, or voice divine?

       And yet who knows, but ripening lies in fate

       An hour of vengeance for the afflicted state;

       When great Ulysses shall suppress these harms,

       Ulysses singly, or all Greece in arms.

       But if Athena, war's triumphant maid,

       The happy son will as the father aid,

       (Whose fame and safety was her constant care

       In every danger and in every war:

       Never on man did heavenly favour shine

       With rays so strong, distinguish'd and divine,

       As those with which Minerva mark'd thy sire)

       So might she love thee, so thy soul inspire!

       Soon should their hopes in humble dust be laid,

       And long oblivion of the bridal bed."

       "Ah! no such hope (the prince with sighs replies)

       Can touch my breast; that blessing Heaven denies.

       Ev'n by celestial favour were it given,

       Fortune or fate would cross the will of Heaven."

       "What words are these, and what imprudence thine?

       (Thus interposed the martial maid divine)

       Forgetful youth! but know, the Power above

       With ease can save each object

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