No More Learning

But say, endur'st thou willing their controul
Imperious, or because the people, sway'd
By some response oracular, incline
Against thee? But who knows? the time may come
When to his home restored, either alone,
Or aided by the force of all the Greeks,
Ulysses may avenge the wrong; at least,
Should Pallas azure-eyed thee love, as erst 280
At Troy, the scene of our unnumber'd woes,
She lov'd Ulysses (for I have not known
The Gods assisting so apparently
A mortal man, as him Minerva there)
Should Pallas view thee also with like love
And kind solicitude, some few of those
Should dream, perchance, of wedlock never more.
Then answer thus Telemachus return'd.
That word's accomplishment I cannot hope;
It promises too much; the thought alone 290
O'erwhelms me; an event so fortunate
Would, unexpected on my part, arrive,
Although the Gods themselves should purpose it.
But Pallas him answer'd caerulean-eyed.
Telemachus! what word was that which leap'd
The iv'ry guard[7] that should have fenced it in?
A God, so willing, could with utmost ease
Save any man, howe'er remote. Myself,
I had much rather, many woes endured,
Revisit home, at last, happy and safe, 300
Than, sooner coming, die in my own house,
As Agamemnon perish'd by the arts
Of base AEgisthus and the subtle Queen.
Yet not the Gods themselves can save from death
All-levelling, the man whom most they love,
When Fate ordains him once to his last sleep.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Howe'er it interest us, let us leave
This question, Mentor! He, I am assured,
Returns no more, but hath already found 310
A sad, sad fate by the decree of heav'n.
But I would now interrogate again
Nestor, and on a different theme, for him
In human rights I judge, and laws expert,
And in all knowledge beyond other men;
For he hath govern'd, as report proclaims,
Three generations; therefore in my eyes
He wears the awful impress of a God.
Oh Nestor, son of Neleus, tell me true;
What was the manner of Atrides' death, 320
Wide-ruling Agamemnon? Tell me where
Was Menelaus? By what means contrived
AEgisthus to inflict the fatal blow,
Slaying so much a nobler than himself?
Had not the brother of the Monarch reach'd
Achaian Argos yet, but, wand'ring still
In other climes, his long absence gave
AEgisthus courage for that bloody deed?
Whom answer'd the Gerenian Chief renown'd.
My son! I will inform thee true; meantime 330
Thy own suspicions border on the fact.
Had Menelaus, Hero, amber hair'd,
AEgisthus found living at his return
From Ilium, never on _his_ bones the Greeks
Had heap'd a tomb, but dogs and rav'ning fowls
Had torn him lying in the open field
Far from the town, nor him had woman wept
Of all in Greece, for he had foul transgress'd.
But we, in many an arduous task engaged,
Lay before Ilium; he, the while, secure 340
Within the green retreats of Argos, found
Occasion apt by flatt'ry to delude
The spouse of Agamemnon; she, at first,
(The royal Clytemnestra) firm refused
The deed dishonourable (for she bore
A virtuous mind, and at her side a bard
Attended ever, whom the King, to Troy
Departing, had appointed to the charge. )
But when the Gods had purposed to ensnare
AEgisthus, then dismissing far remote 350
The bard into a desart isle, he there
Abandon'd him to rav'ning fowls a prey,
And to his own home, willing as himself,
Led Clytemnestra. Num'rous thighs he burn'd
On all their hallow'd altars to the Gods,
And hung with tap'stry, images, and gold
Their shrines, his great exploit past hope atchiev'd.
We (Menelaus and myself) had sailed
From Troy together, but when we approach'd
Sunium, headland of th' Athenian shore, 360
There Phoebus, sudden, with his gentle shafts
Slew Menelaus' pilot while he steer'd
The volant bark, Phrontis, Onetor's son,
A mariner past all expert, whom none
In steerage match'd, what time the tempest roar'd.
Here, therefore, Menelaus was detained,
Giving his friend due burial, and his rites
Funereal celebrating, though in haste
Still to proceed. But when, with all his fleet
The wide sea traversing, he reach'd at length 370
Malea's lofty foreland in his course,
Rough passage, then, and perilous he found.
Shrill blasts the Thund'rer pour'd into his sails,
And wild waves sent him mountainous. His ships
There scatter'd, some to the Cydonian coast
Of Crete he push'd, near where the Jardan flows.