The Odyssey

wealth and all

His people. To this end I would have caused

Some neighboring district where my sway is owned

To be dispeopled. Dwelling here we oft

Should then have met each other, and no cause

Would e’er have parted us, two faithful friends

Delighting in each other, till at last

Came Death’s black cloud to wrap us in its shade.

A god, no doubt, hath seen in this a good

Too great for us, and thus to him alone,

Unhappy man! denied a safe return.”
He spake; his words awoke in every heart

Grief for the absent hero’s sake. Then wept

The Argive Helen, child of Jove; then wept

Telemachus; nor tearless were the eyes

Of Nestor’s son, for to his mind arose

The memory of the good Antilochus,

Slain by the bright Aurora’s eminent son;

Of him he thought, and spake these winged words:⁠—
“O son of Atreus! aged Nestor saith,

When in his palace we discourse of thee

And ask each other’s thought, that thou art wise

Beyond all other men. Now, if thou mayst,

Indulge me, for not willingly I weep

Thus at the evening feast, and soon will Morn,

Child of the Dawn, appear. I do not blame

This sorrow for whoever meets his fate

And dies; the only honors we can pay

To those unhappy mortals is to shred

Our locks away, and wet our cheeks with tears.

I lost a brother, not the least in worth

Among the Argives, whom thou must have seen.

I knew him not: I never saw his face;

Yet is it said Antilochus excelled

The others; swift of foot, and brave in war.”
The fair-haired Menelaus answered him:⁠—

“Since thou my friend hast spoken thus, as one

Discreet in word and deed, of riper years

Than thou, might speak and act⁠—for thou art born

Of such a father, and thy words are wise⁠—

And easy is it to discern the son

Of one on whom Saturnius has bestowed

Both at the birth-hour and in wedded life

His blessing; as he gives to Nestor now

A calm old age that lapses pleasantly,

Within his palace-halls, from day to day,

And sons wise-minded, mighty with the spear⁠—

Then let us lay aside this sudden grief

That has o’ertaken us, and only think

Of banqueting. Let water now be poured

Upon our hands; there will be time enough

Tomorrow for discourse; Telemachus

And I will then engage in mutual talk.”
He spake, Asphalion, who with diligent heed

Served the great Menelaus, on their hands

Poured water, and they shared the meats that lay

Upon the board. But Helen, Jove-born dame,

Had other thoughts, and with the wine they drank

Mingled a drug, an antidote to grief

And anger, bringing quick forgetfulness

Of all life’s evils. Whoso drinks, when once

It is infused and in the cup, that day

Shall never wet his cheeks with tears, although

His father and his mother lie in death,

Nor though his brother or beloved son

Fall butchered by the sword before his eyes.

Such sovereign drugs she had, that child of Jove,

Given her by Polydamna, wife of Thon,

A dame of Egypt, where the bounteous soil

Brings forth abundantly its potent herbs,

Of healing some and some of bane, and where

Dwell the physicians who excel in skill

All other men, for they are of the race

Of Paeon. Now when Helen in the cups

Had placed the drug, and bidden them to pour

The wine upon it, thus she spake again:⁠—
“Atrides Menelaus, reared by Jove,

And ye the sons of heroes!⁠—Jupiter

The sovereign, gives, at pleasure, good and ill

To one or to another, for his power

Is infinite⁠—now sitting in these halls,

Feast and enjoy free converse. I will speak

What suits the occasion. I could not relate,

I could not even name, the many toils

Borne by Ulysses, stout of heart. I speak

Only of what that valiant warrior did

And suffered once in Troy, where ye of Greece

Endured such hardships. He had given himself

Unseemly stripes, and o’er his shoulders flung

Vile garments like a slave’s, and entered thus

The enemy’s town, and walked its spacious streets.

Another man he seemed in that disguise⁠—

A beggar, though when at the Achaian fleet

So different was the semblance that he wore.

He entered Ilium thus transformed, and none

Knew who it was that passed, but I perceived,

And questioned him; he turned my quest aside

With crafty answers. After I had seen

The bath administered, anointed him

And clothed him, and had sworn a solemn oath

Not to reveal his visit to the men

Of Ilium till he reached again the tents

And galleys, then he opened to me all

The plans of the Achaians. Leaving me,

On his return he slew with his long spear

Full many a Trojan, and in safety reached

The Argive camp with tidings for the host.

Then wept aloud the Trojan dames, but I

Was glad at heart, for I already longed

For my old home, and deeply I deplored

The evil fate that Venus brought on me,

Who led me thither from my own dear land,

And from my daughter and my marriage-bower,

And from my lawful spouse, in whom I missed

No noble gift of person or of mind.”
Then fair-haired Menelaus said to her:⁠—

“All thou hast spoken, woman, is most true.

Of many a valiant warrior I have known

The counsels and the purposes, and far

Have roamed in many lands, but never yet

My eyes have looked on such another man

As was Ulysses, of a heart so bold

And such endurance. Witness what he did

And bore, the heroic man, what time we sat,

The bravest of the Argives, pent within

The wooden horse, about to bring to Troy

Slaughter and death. Thou earnest to the place,

Moved, as it seemed, by some divinity

Who thought to give the glory of the day

To Troy. Deiphobus, the godlike chief,

Was with thee. Thrice about the hollow frame

That held the ambush thou didst walk and touch

Its sides, and call the Achaian chiefs by name,

And imitate the voices of the wives

Of all the Argives. Diomed and I

Sat with the great Ulysses in the midst,

And with him heard thy call, and rose at once

To sally forth or answer from within;

But he forbade, impatient as we were,

And so restrained us. All the Achaian chiefs

Kept silence save Anticlus, who alone

Began to speak, when, with his powerful hands,

Ulysses pressed together instantly

The opening lips, and saved us all, and thus

Held them till Pallas lured thee from the spot.”
Then spake discreet Telemachus again:⁠—

“Atrides Menelaus, reared by Jove,

Ruler of tribes! the harder was his lot,

Since even thus he could not shun the stroke

Of death, not though