extend his vital breath Beyond the fix’d bounds of abhorréd Death.”
“Mentor!” said he, “let’s dwell no more on this,
Although in us the sorrow pious is.
No such return, as we wish, Fates bequeath
My erring father; whom a present death
The Deathless have decreed. I’ll now use speech
That tends to other purpose; and beseech
Instruction of grave Nestor, since he flows
Past shore in all experience, and knows
The sleights and wisdoms, and whose heights aspire
Others, as well as my commended sire,
Whom Fame reports to have commanded three
Ages of men, and doth in sight to me
Show like th’ Immortals. Nestor! the renown
Of old Neleius, make the clear truth known,
How the most-great-in-empire, Atreus’ son,
Sustain’d the act of his destruction,
Where then was Menelaus? How was it
That false Ægisthus, being so far unfit
A match for him, could his death so enforce?
Was he not then in Argos? or his course
With men so left, to let a coward breathe
Spirit enough to dare his brother’s death?”
“I’ll tell thee truth in all, fair son,” said he:
“Right well was this event conceiv’d by thee.
If Menelaus in his brother’s house
Had found the idle liver with his spouse,
Arriv’d from Troy, he had not liv’d, nor dead
Had the digg’d heap pour’d on his lustful head,
But fowls and dogs had torn him in the fields,
Far off of Argos; not a dame it yields
Had giv’n him any tear, so foul his fact
Show’d ev’n to women. Us Troy’s wars had rack’d
To ev’ry sinew’s sufferance, while he
In Argos’ uplands liv’d, from those works free,
And Agamemnon’s wife with force of word
Flatter’d and soften’d, who, at first, abhorr’d
A fact so infamous. The heav’nly dame
A good mind had, but was in blood to blame.
There was a poet, to whose care the king
His queen committed, and in ev’ry thing,
When he from Troy went, charg’d him to apply
Himself in all guard to her dignity.
But when strong Fate so wrapt-in her effects,
That she resolv’d to leave her fit respects,
Into a desert isle her guardian led,
There left, the rapine of the vultures fed.
Then brought he willing home his will’s won prize,
On sacred altars offer’d many thighs,
Hung in the God’s fanes many ornaments,
Garments and gold, that he the vast events
Of such a labour to his wish had brought,
As neither fell into his hope nor thought.
At last, from Troy sail’d Sparta’s king and I,
Both holding her untouch’d. And, that his eye
Might see no worse of her, when both were blown
To sacred Sunium, of Minerva’s town
The goodly promontory, with his shafts severe
Augur Apollo slew him that did steer
Atrides’ ship, as he the stern did guide,
And she the full speed of her sail applied.
He was a man that natións of men
Excell’d in safe guide of a vessel, when
A tempest rush’d in on the ruffled seas;
His name was Phrontis Onetorides.
And thus was Menelaus held from home,
Whose way he thirsted so to overcome,
To give his friend the earth, being his pursuit,
And all his exequies to execute.
But sailing still the wine-hued seas, [2] to reach
Some shore for fit performance, he did fetch
The steep mount of the Malians, and there,
With open voice, offended Jupiter
Proclaim’d the voyage his repugnant mind,
And pour’d the puffs out of a shrieking wind,
That nourish’d billows heighten’d like to hills;
And with the fleet’s division fulfills
His hate proclaim’d; upon a part of Crete
Casting the navy, where the sea-waves meet
Rough Jardanus, and where the Cydons live.
There is a rock, on which the sea doth drive,
Bare, and all broken, on the confines set
Of Gortys, that the dark seas likewise fret;
And hither sent the South a horrid drift
