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Drowsy they rose, with heavy fumes oppress'd, Reeld from the palace, and retired to rest.
Then thus, in Mentor's reverend form array'd, Spoke to Telemachus the martial maid
Lo! on the seas prepared the vessel stands, The' impatient mariner thy speed demands.' Swift as she spoke, with rapid pace
she leads; The footsteps of the deity he treads. Swift to the shore they move: along the strand The ready vessel rides, the sailors ready stand. He bids them bring their stores; the’attending
train Load the tall bark, and launch into the main. The prince and goddess to the stern ascend; To the strong stroke at once the rowers bend. Full from the west she bids fresh breezes blow; The sable billows foam and roar below. The chief his orders gives: the' obedient band With due observance wait the chief's command; With speed the mast they rear, with speed unbind The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind. High o'er the roaring waves the spreading sails Bow the tall mast, and swell before the gales ; The crooked keel the parting surge divides, And to the stern retreating roll the tides. And now they ship their oars, and crown with wine The holy goblet to the powers divine: Imploring all the gods that reign above, But chief the blue-eyed progeny of Jove.
Thus all the night they stem the liquid way, And end their voyage with the morning ray.
THE INTERVIEW OF TELEMACHUS AND NESTOR.
Telemachus, guided by Pallas in the shape of Mentor, arrives
in the morning at Pylos, where Nestor and his sons are sacrificing on the seashore to Neptune. Telemachus declares the occasion of his coming; and Nestor relates what passed in their return from Troy, how their fleets were separated, and he never since heard of Ulysses. The discourse concerning the death of Agamemnou, the revenge of Orestes, and the injuries of the suitors. Nestor advises bim to go to Sparta, and inquire further of Menelaüs. The sacrifice ending with the night, Minervą vanishes from them in the form of an eagle : Telemachus is lodged in the palace. The next morning they sacrifice a bullock to Minerva, and Telemachus proceeds on his journey to Sparta, attended by Pisistratus.
The scene lies on the seashore of Pylos,
The sacred Sun, above the waters raised,
Telemachus already press’d the shore;
* Proceed, my son! this youthful shame expel;
O tell me, Mentor! tell me, faithful guide (The youth with prudent modesty replied), How shall I meet, or how accost the sage, Unskilld in speech, nor yet mature of age? Awful the approach, and hard the task appears, To question wisely men of riper years.'
To whom the martial goddess thus rejoin'd• Search, for some thoughts, thy own suggesting
mind; And others, dictated by heavenly power, Shall rise spontaneous in the needful hour : For nought unprosperous shall thy ways attend, Born with good omens, and with Heaven thy
friend.' She spoke, and led the way with swiftest speed: As swift, the youth pursued the way she led; And join'd the band before the sacred fire, Where sat, encompass'd with his sons, the sire. The youth of Pylos, some on pointed wood Transfix'd the fragments, some prepared the food. In friendly throngs they gather, to embrace Their unknown guests, and at the banquet place.
Pisistratus was first to grasp their hands,
He spake, and to her hand preferr'd the bowl:
Thus she; and having paid the rite divine, Gave to Ulysses' son the rosy
wine. Suppliant he pray'd. And now the victims dress'd They draw, divide, and celebrate the feast. The banquet done, the narrative old man, Thus mild, the pleasing conference began
• Now, gentle guests! the genial banquet o'er, It fits to ask
Urged by the precepts by the goddess given, And fill'd with confidence infused from Heaven, The youth, whom Pallas destined to be wise And famed
men, replies— Inquirest thou, father! from what coast we came? (O grace and glory of the Grecian name!) From where high Ithaca o'erlooks the floods, Brown with o'erarching shades and pendent
woods, Us to these shores our filial duty draws, A private sorrow, not a public cause. My sire I seek, where'er the voice of fame Has told the glories of his noble name, The great Ulysses; famed from shore to shore For valour much, for hardy suffering more. Long time with thee before proud Ilion's wall In arms he fought; with thee beheld her fall. Of all the chiefs, this hero's fate alone Has Jove reserved, unheard of, and unknown; Whether in fields by hostile fury slain, Or sunk by tempests in the gulfy main. Of this to learn, oppress’d with tender fears, Lo, at thy knee his suppliant son appears. If or thy certain eye, or curious ear, Have learn’d his fate, the whole dark story clear: And oh! whate'er Heaven destined to betide, Let neither flattery smooth, nor pity hide,