No More Learning

Atrides, why these questions? Need is none
That thou should'st all my secrets learn, which once
Reveal'd, thou would'st not long dry-eyed remain.
Of those no few have died, and many live;
But leaders, two alone, in their return 600
Have died (thou also hast had war to wage)
And one, still living, roams the boundless sea.
Ajax,[17] surrounded by his galleys, died.
Him Neptune, first, against the bulky rocks
The Gyrae drove, but saved him from the Deep;
Nor had he perish'd, hated as he was
By Pallas, but for his own impious boast
In frenzy utter'd that he would escape
The billows, even in the Gods' despight.
Neptune that speech vain-glorious hearing, grasp'd 610
His trident, and the huge Gyraean rock
Smiting indignant, dash'd it half away;
Part stood, and part, on which the boaster sat
When, first, the brainsick fury seiz'd him, fell,
Bearing him with it down into the gulphs
Of Ocean, where he drank the brine, and died.
But thy own brother in his barks escaped
That fate, by Juno saved; yet when, at length,
He should have gain'd Malea's craggy shore,
Then, by a sudden tempest caught, he flew 620
With many a groan far o'er the fishy Deep
To the land's utmost point, where once his home
Thyestes had, but where Thyestes' son
Dwelt then, AEgisthus. Easy lay his course
And open thence, and, as it pleased the Gods,
The shifted wind soon bore them to their home.
He, high in exultation, trod the shore
That gave him birth, kiss'd it, and, at the sight,
The welcome sight of Greece, shed many a tear.
Yet not unseen he landed; for a spy, 630
One whom the shrewd AEgisthus had seduced
By promise of two golden talents, mark'd
His coming from a rock where he had watch'd
The year complete, lest, passing unperceived,
The King should reassert his right in arms.
Swift flew the spy with tidings to this Lord,
And He, incontinent, this project framed
Insidious. Twenty men, the boldest hearts
Of all the people, from the rest he chose,
Whom he in ambush placed, and others charged 640
Diligent to prepare the festal board.
With horses, then, and chariots forth he drove
Full-fraught with mischief, and conducting home
The unsuspicious King, amid the feast
Slew him, as at his crib men slay an ox.
Nor of thy brother's train, nor of his train
Who slew thy brother, one survived, but all,
Welt'ring in blood together, there expired.
He ended, and his words beat on my heart
As they would break it.
On the sands I sat 650
Weeping, nor life nor light desiring more.
But when I had in dust roll'd me, and wept
To full satiety, mine ear again
The oracle of Ocean thus address'd.
Sit not, O son of Atreus! weeping here
Longer, for remedy can none be found;
But quick arising, trial make, how best
Thou shalt, and soonest, reach thy home again.
For either him still living thou shalt find,
Or ere thou come, Orestes shall have slain 660
The traytor, and thine eyes shall see his tomb.
He ceas'd, and I, afflicted as I was,
Yet felt my spirit at that word refresh'd,
And in wing'd accents answer thus return'd.
Of these I am inform'd; but name the third
Who, dead or living, on the boundless Deep
Is still detain'd; I dread, yet wish to hear.
So I; to whom thus Proteus in return.
Laertes' son, the Lord of Ithaca--
Him in an island weeping I beheld, 670
Guest of the nymph Calypso, by constraint
Her guest, and from his native land withheld
By sad necessity; for ships well-oar'd,
Or faithful followers hath he none, whose aid
Might speed him safely o'er the spacious flood.
But, Menelaus dear to Jove! thy fate
Ordains not thee the stroke of death to meet
In steed-fam'd Argos, but far hence the Gods
Will send thee to Elysium, and the earth's
Extremest bounds; (there Rhadamanthus dwells, 680
The golden-hair'd, and there the human kind
Enjoy the easiest life; no snow is there,
No biting winter, and no drenching show'r,
But zephyr always gently from the sea
Breathes on them to refresh the happy race)
For that fair Helen is by nuptial bands
Thy own, and thou art son-in-law of Jove.
So saying, he plunged into the billowy waste,
I then, with my brave comrades to the fleet
Return'd, deep-musing as I went, and sad. 690
No sooner had I reach'd my ship beside
The ocean, and we all had supp'd, than night
From heav'n fell on us, and, at ease reposed
Along the margin of the sea, we slept.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look'd rosy forth, drawing our galleys down
Into the sacred Deep, we rear'd again
The mast, unfurl'd the sail, and to our seats
On board returning, thresh'd the foamy flood.
Once more, at length, within the hallow'd stream 700
Of AEgypt mooring, on the shore I slew
Whole hecatombs, and (the displeasure thus
Of the immortal Gods appeased) I reared
To Agamemnon's never-dying fame
A tomb, and finishing it, sail'd again
With such a gale from heaven vouchsafed, as sent
My ships swift-scudding to the shores of Greece.
But come--eleven days wait here, or twelve
A guest with me, when I will send thee hence
Nobly, and honour'd with illustrious gifts, 710
With polish'd chariot, with three princely steeds,
And with a gorgeous cup, that to the Gods
Libation pouring ever while thou liv'st
From that same cup, thou may'st remember me.