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away;

       Perhaps may seize thy realm, and share the spoil;

       And though return, with disappointed toil,

       From thy vain journey, to a rifled isle.

       However, my friend, indulge one labour more,

       And seek Atrides on the Spartan shore.

       He, wandering long a wider circle made,

       And many-languaged nations has survey'd:

       And measured tracks unknown to other ships,

       Amid the monstrous wonders of the deeps,

       (A length of ocean and unbounded sky.

       Which scarce the sea-fowl in a year o'erfly);

       Go then; to Sparta take the watery way,

       Thy ship and sailors but for orders stay;

       Or, if my land then choose thy course to bend,

       My steeds, my chariots, and my songs, attend;

       Thee to Atrides they shall safe convey,

       Guides of thy road, companions of thy way.

       Urge him with truth to frame his wise replies,

       And sure he will; for Menelaus is wise."

       Thus while he speaks the ruddy sun descends,

       And twilight grey her evening shade extends.

       Then thus the blue-eyed maid: "O full of days!

       Wise are thy words, and just are all thy ways.

       Now immolate the tongues, and mix the wine,

       Sacred to Neptune and the powers divine,

       The lamp of day is quench'd beneath the deep,

       And soft approach the balmy hours of sleep;

       Nor fits it to prolong the heavenly feast,

       Timeless, indecent, but retire to rest."

       So spake Jove's daughter, the celestial maid,

       The sober train attended and obey'd.

       The sacred heralds on their hands around

       Pour'd the full urns; the youths the goblets crown'd;

       From bowl to bowl the homely beverage flows;

       While to the final sacrifice they rose.

       The tongues they cast upon the fragrant flame,

       And pour, above, the consecrated stream.

       And now, their thirst by copious draughts allay'd,

       The youthful hero and the Athenian maid

       Propose departure from the finish'd rite,

       And in their hollow bark to pass the night;

       But this hospitable sage denied,

       "Forbid it, Jove! and all the gods! (he cried),

       Thus from my walls and the much-loved son to send

       Of such a hero, and of such a friend!

       Me, as some needy peasant, would ye leave,

       Whom Heaven denies the blessing to relieve?

       Me would ye leave, who boast imperial sway,

       When beds of royal state invite your stay?

       No—long as life this mortal shall inspire,

       Or as my children imitate their sire.

       Here shall the wandering stranger find his home,

       And hospitable rites adorn the dome."

       "Well hast thou spoke (the blue-eyed maid replies),

       Beloved old man! benevolent as wise.

       Be the kind dictates of thy heart obey'd,

       And let thy words Telemachus persuade:

       He to thy palace shall thy steps pursue;

       I to the ship, to give the orders due,

       Prescribe directions and confirm the crew.

       For I alone sustain their naval cares,

       Who boast experience from these silver hairs;

       All youths the rest, whom to this journey move

       Like years, like tempers, and their prince's love

       There in the vessel shall I pass the night;

       And, soon as morning paints the fields of light,

       I go to challenge from the Caucons bold

       A debt, contracted in the days of old,

       But this, thy guest, received with friendly care

       Let thy strong coursers swift to Sparta bear;

       Prepare thy chariot at the dawn of day,

       And be thy son companion of his way."

       Then, turning with the word, Minerva flies,

       And soars an eagle through the liquid skies.

       Vision divine! the throng'd spectators gaze

       In holy wonder fix'd, and still amaze.

       But chief the reverend sage admired; he took

       The hand of young Telemachus, and spoke:

       "Oh, happy youth! and favoured of the skies,

       Distinguished care of guardian deities!

       Whose early years for future worth engage,

       No vulgar manhood, no ignoble age.

       For lo! none other of the course above,

       Then she, the daughter of almighty Jove,

       Pallas herself, the war-triumphant maid;

       Confess'd is thine, as once thy fathers aid.

       So guide me, goddess! so propitious shine

       On me, my consort, and my royal line!

       A yearling bullock to thy name shall smoke,

       Untamed, unconscious of the galling yoke,

       With ample forehead, and yet tender horns,

       Whose budding honours ductile gold adorns."

       Submissive thus the hoary sire preferr'd

       His holy vow: the favouring goddess heard.

       Then, slowly rising, o'er the sandy space

       Precedes the father, follow'd by his race,

       (A long procession) timely marching home

       In comely order to the regal dome.

       There when arrived, on thrones around him placed,

       His sons and grandsons the wide circle graced.

       To these the hospitable sage, in sign

       Of social welcome, mix'd the racy wine

       (Late from the mellowing cask restored to light,

       By ten long years refined, and rosy bright).

       To Pallas high the foaming bowl he crown'd,

       And sprinkled large libations on the ground.

       Each drinks a full oblivion of his cares,

       And to the gifts of balmy sleep repairs.

       Deep in a rich alcove the prince was laid,

       And slept beneath the pompous colonnade;

       Fast by his side Pisistratus was spread

       (In age his equal) on a splendid bed:

       But in an inner court, securely closed,

       The reverend Nestor and his queen reposed.

       When now Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

       With rosy lustre purpled o'er the lawn,

      

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