Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book III

ARGUMENT     Telemachus arriving at Pylus, enquires of Nestor concerning Ulysses. Nestor relates to him all that he knows or has heard of the Greecians since their departure from the siege of Troy, but not being able to give him any satisfactory account of Ulysses, refers him to Menelaus. At evening Minerva quits Telemachus, but discovers herself in going. Nestor sacrifices to the Goddess, and the solemnity ended, Telemachus sets forth for Sparta in one of Nestor's chariots, and accompanied by Nestor's son, Pisistratus.             The sun, emerging from the lucid waves,             Ascended now the brazen vault with light             For the inhabitants of earth and heav'n,             When in their bark at Pylus they arrived,             City of Neleus. On the shore they found             The people sacrificing; bulls they slew             Black without spot, to Neptune azure-hair'd.             On ranges nine of seats they sat; each range             Received five hundred, and to each they made             Allotment equal of nine sable bulls.             The feast was now begun; these eating sat             The entrails, those stood off'ring to the God             The thighs, his portion, when the Ithacans             Push'd right ashore, and, furling close the sails,             And making fast their moorings, disembark'd.             Forth came Telemachus, by Pallas led,             Whom thus the Goddess azure-eyed address'd.             Telemachus! there is no longer room             For bashful fear, since thou hast cross'd the flood             With purpose to enquire what land conceals             Thy father, and what fate hath follow'd him.             Advance at once to the equestrian Chief             Nestor, within whose bosom lies, perhaps,             Advice well worthy of thy search; entreat             Himself, that he will tell thee only truth,             Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.                 To whom Telemachus discrete replied.             Ah Mentor! how can I advance, how greet             A Chief like him, unpractis'd as I am             In manag'd phrase? Shame bids the youth beware             How he accosts the man of many years.                 But him the Goddess answer'd azure-eyed,             Telemachus! Thou wilt, in part, thyself             Fit speech devise, and heav'n will give the rest;             For thou wast neither born, nor hast been train'd             To manhood, under unpropitious Pow'rs.                 So saying, Minerva led him thence, whom he             With nimble steps attending, soon arrived             Among the multitude. There Nestor sat,             And Nestor's sons, while, busily the feast             Tending, his num'rous followers roasted, some,             The viands, some, transfix'd them with the spits.             They seeing guests arrived, together all             Advanced, and, grasping courteously their hands,             Invited them to sit; but first, the son             Of Nestor, young Pisistratus, approach'd,             Who, fast'ning on the hands of both, beside             The banquet placed them, where the beach was spread             With fleeces, and where Thrasymedes sat             His brother, and the hoary Chief his Sire.             To each a portion of the inner parts             He gave, then fill'd a golden cup with wine,             Which, tasted first, he to the daughter bore             Of Jove the Thund'rer, and her thus bespake.                 Oh guest! the King of Ocean now adore!             For ye have chanced on Neptune's festival;             And, when thou hast, thyself, libation made             Duly, and pray'r, deliver to thy friend             The gen'rous juice, that he may also make             Libation; for he, doubtless, seeks, in prayer             The Immortals, of whose favour all have need.             But, since he younger is, and with myself             Coeval, first I give the cup to thee.                 He ceas'd, and to her hand consign'd the cup,             Which Pallas gladly from a youth received             So just and wise, who to herself had first             The golden cup presented, and in pray'r             Fervent the Sov'reign of the Seas adored.                 Hear, earth-encircler Neptune! O vouchsafe             To us thy suppliants the desired effect             Of this our voyage; glory, first, bestow             On Nestor and his offspring both, then grant             To all the Pylians such a gracious boon             As shall requite their noble off'ring well.             Grant also to Telemachus and me             To voyage hence, possess'd of what we sought             When hither in our sable bark we came.                 So Pallas pray'd, and her own pray'r herself             Accomplish'd. To Telemachus she gave             The splendid goblet next, and in his turn             Like pray'r Ulysses' son also preferr'd.             And now (the banquet from the spits withdrawn)             They next distributed sufficient share             To each, and all were sumptuously regaled.             At length, (both hunger satisfied and thirst)             Thus Nestor, the Gerenian Chief, began.                 Now with more seemliness we may enquire,             After repast, what guests we have received.             Our guests! who are ye? Whence have ye the waves             Plough'd hither? Come ye to transact concerns             Commercial, or at random roam the Deep             Like pirates, who with mischief charged and woe             To foreign States, oft hazard life themselves?                 Him answer'd, bolder now, but still discrete,             Telemachus. For Pallas had his heart             With manly courage arm'd, that he might ask             From Nestor tidings of his absent Sire,             And win, himself, distinction and renown.                 Oh Nestor, Neleus' son, glory of Greece!             Thou askest whence we are. I tell thee whence.             From Ithaca, by the umbrageous woods             Of Neritus o'erhung, by private need,             Not public, urged, we come. My errand is             To seek intelligence of the renown'd             Ulysses; of my noble father, prais'd             For dauntless courage, whom report proclaims             Conqueror, with thine aid, of sacred Troy.             We have already learn'd where other Chiefs             Who fought at Ilium, died; but Jove conceals             Even the death of my illustrious Sire             In dull obscurity; for none hath heard             Or confident can answer, where he dy'd;             Whether he on the continent hath fall'n             By hostile hands, or by the waves o'erwhelm'd             Of Amphitrite, welters in the Deep.             For this cause, at thy knees suppliant, I beg             That thou would'st tell me his disast'rous end,             If either thou beheld'st that dread event             Thyself, or from some wanderer of the Greeks             Hast heard it: for my father at his birth             Was, sure, predestin'd to no common woes.             Neither through pity, or o'erstrain'd respect             Flatter me, but explicit all relate             Which thou hast witness'd. If my noble Sire             E'er gratified thee by performance just             Of word or deed at Ilium, where ye fell             So num'rous slain in fight, oh, recollect             Now his fidelity, and tell me true.                 Then Nestor thus Gerenian Hero old.             Young friend! since thou remind'st me, speaking thus,             Of all the woes which indefatigable             We sons of the Achaians there sustain'd,             Both those which wand'ring on the Deep we bore             Wherever by Achilles led in quest             Of booty, and the many woes beside             Which under royal Priam's spacious walls             We suffer'd, know, that there our bravest fell.             There warlike Ajax lies, there Peleus' son;             There, too, Patroclus, like the Gods themselves             In council, and my son beloved there,             Brave, virtuous, swift of foot, and bold in fight,             Antilochus. Nor are these sorrows all;             What tongue of mortal man could all relate?             Should'st thou, abiding here, five years employ             Or six, enquiring of the woes endured             By the Achaians, ere thou should'st have learn'd             The whole, thou would'st depart, tir'd of the tale.             For we, nine years, stratagems of all kinds             Devised against them, and Saturnian Jove             Scarce crown'd the difficult attempt at last.             There, no competitor in wiles well-plann'd             Ulysses found, so far were all surpass'd             In shrewd invention by thy noble Sire,             If thou indeed art his, as sure thou art,             Whose sight breeds wonder in me, and thy speech             His speech resembles more than might be deem'd             Within the scope of years so green as thine.             There, never in opinion, or in voice             Illustrious Ulysses and myself             Divided were, but, one in heart, contrived             As best we might, the benefit of all.             But after Priam's lofty city sack'd,             And the departure of the Greeks on board             Their barks, and when the Gods had scatter'd them,             Then Jove imagin'd for the Argive host             A sorrowful return; for neither just             Were all, nor prudent, therefore many found             A fate disast'rous through the vengeful ire             Of Jove-born Pallas, who between the sons             Of Atreus sharp contention interposed.             They both, irregularly, and against             Just order, summoning by night the Greeks             To council, of whom many came with wine             Oppress'd, promulgated the cause for which             They had convened the people. Then it was             That Menelaus bade the general host             Their thoughts bend homeward o'er the sacred Deep,             Which Agamemnon in no sort approved.             His counsel was to slay them yet at Troy,             That so he might assuage the dreadful wrath             Of Pallas, first, by sacrifice and pray'r.             Vain hope! he little thought how ill should speed             That fond attempt, for, once provok'd, the Gods             Are not with ease conciliated again.             Thus stood the brothers, altercation hot             Maintaining, till at length, uprose the Greeks             With deaf'ning clamours, and with diff'ring minds.             We slept the night, but teeming with disgust             Mutual, for Jove great woe prepar'd for all.             At dawn of day we drew our gallies down             Into the sea, and, hasty, put on board             The spoils and female captives. Half the host,             With Agamemnon, son of Atreus, stay'd             Supreme commander, and, embarking, half             Push'd forth. Swift course we made, for Neptune smooth'd             The waves before us of the monstrous Deep.             At Tenedos arriv'd, we there perform'd             Sacrifice to the Gods, ardent to reach             Our native land, but unpropitious Jove,             Not yet designing our arrival there,             Involved us in dissension fierce again.             For all the crews, followers of the King,             Thy noble Sire, to gratify our Chief,             The son of Atreus, chose a diff'rent course,             And steer'd their oary barks again to Troy.             But I, assured that evil from the Gods             Impended, gath'ring all my gallant fleet,             Fled thence in haste, and warlike Diomede             Exhorting his attendants, also fled.             At length, the Hero Menelaus join'd             Our fleets at Lesbos; there he found us held             In deep deliberation on the length             Of way before us, whether we should steer             Above the craggy Chios to the isle             Psyria, that island holding on our left,             Or under Chios by the wind-swept heights             Of Mimas. Then we ask'd from Jove a sign,             And by a sign vouchsafed he bade us cut             The wide sea to Euboea sheer athwart,             So soonest to escape the threat'ned harm.             Shrill sang the rising gale, and with swift prows             Cleaving the fishy flood, we reach'd by night             Gerstus, where arrived, we burn'd the thighs             Of num'rous bulls to Neptune, who had safe             Conducted us through all our perilous course.             The fleet of Diomede in safety moor'd             On the fourth day at Argos, but myself             Held on my course to Pylus, nor the wind             One moment thwarted us, or died away,             When Jove had once commanded it to blow.                 Thus, uninform'd, I have arrived, my son!             Nor of the Greecians, who are saved have heard,             Or who have perish'd; but what news soe'er             I have obtain'd, since my return, with truth             I will relate, nor aught conceal from thee.                 The spear-famed Myrmidons, as rumour speaks,             By Neoptolemus, illustrious son             Of brave Achilles led, have safe arrived;             Safe, Philoctetes, also son renown'd             Of Pas; and Idomeneus at Crete             Hath landed all his followers who survive             The bloody war, the waves have swallow'd none.             Ye have yourselves doubtless, although remote,             Of Agamemnon heard, how he return'd,             And how gisthus cruelly contrived             For him a bloody welcome, but himself             Hath with his own life paid the murth'rous deed.             Good is it, therefore, if a son survive             The slain, since Agamemnon's son hath well             Avenged his father's death, slaying, himself,             gisthus, foul assassin of his Sire.             Young friend! (for pleas'd thy vig'rous youth I view,             And just proportion) be thou also bold,             That thine like his may be a deathless name.                 Then, prudent, him answer'd Telemachus.             Oh Nestor, Neleus' son, glory of Greece!             And righteous was that vengeance; _his_ renown             Achaia's sons shall far and wide diffuse,             To future times transmitting it in song.             Ah! would that such ability the Gods             Would grant to me, that I, as well, the deeds             Might punish of our suitors, whose excess             Enormous, and whose bitter taunts I feel             Continual, object of their subtle hate.             But not for me such happiness the Gods             Have twined into my thread; no, not for me             Or for my father. Patience is our part.                 To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied.             Young friend! (since thou remind'st me of that theme)             Fame here reports that num'rous suitors haunt             Thy palace for thy mother's sake, and there             Much evil perpetrate in thy despight.             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             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             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 crulean-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,             Than, sooner coming, die in my own house,             As Agamemnon perish'd by the arts             Of base gisthus 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             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,             Wide-ruling Agamemnon? Tell me where             Was Menelaus? By what means contrived             gisthus 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             gisthus courage for that bloody deed?             Whom answer'd the Gerenian Chief renown'd.             My son! I will inform thee true; meantime             Thy own suspicions border on the fact.             Had Menelaus, Hero, amber hair'd,             gisthus 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             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             gisthus, then dismissing far remote             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,             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             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.             Beside the confines of Gortyna stands,             Amid the gloomy flood, a smooth rock, steep             Toward the sea, against whose leftward point             Phstus by name, the South wind rolls the surge             Amain, which yet the rock, though small, repells.             Hither with part he came, and scarce the crews             Themselves escaped, while the huge billows broke             Their ships against the rocks; yet five he saved,             Which winds and waves drove to the gyptian shore.                 Thus he, provision gath'ring as he went             And gold abundant, roam'd to distant lands             And nations of another tongue. Meantime,             gisthus these enormities at home             Devising, slew Atrides, and supreme             Rul'd the subjected land; sev'n years he reign'd             In opulent Mycen, but the eighth             From Athens brought renown'd Orestes home             For his destruction, who of life bereaved             gisthus base assassin of his Sire.             Orestes, therefore, the funereal rites             Performing to his shameless mother's shade             And to her lustful paramour, a feast             Gave to the Argives; on which self-same day             The warlike Menelaus, with his ships             All treasure-laden to the brink, arrived.                 And thou, young friend! from thy forsaken home             Rove not long time remote, thy treasures left             At mercy of those proud, lest they divide             And waste the whole, rend'ring thy voyage vain.             But hence to Menelaus is the course             To which I counsel thee; for he hath come             Of late from distant lands, whence to escape             No man could hope, whom tempests first had driv'n             Devious into so wide a sea, from which             Themselves the birds of heaven could not arrive             In a whole year, so vast is the expanse.             Go, then, with ship and shipmates, or if more             The land delight thee, steeds thou shalt not want             Nor chariot, and my sons shall be thy guides             To noble Lacedemon, the abode             Of Menelaus; ask from him the truth,             Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.                 While thus he spake, the sun declined, and night             Approaching, blue-eyed Pallas interposed.                 O antient King! well hast thou spoken all.             But now delay not. Cut ye forth the tongues,[8]             And mingle wine, that (Neptune first invoked             With due libation, and the other Gods)             We may repair to rest; for even now             The sun is sunk, and it becomes us not             Long to protract a banquet to the Gods             Devote, but in fit season to depart.                 So spake Jove's daughter; they obedient heard.             The heralds, then, pour'd water on their hands,             And the attendant youths, filling the cups,             Served them from left to right. Next all the tongues             They cast into the fire, and ev'ry guest             Arising, pour'd libation to the Gods.             Libation made, and all with wine sufficed,             Godlike Telemachus and Pallas both             Would have return'd, incontinent, on board,             But Nestor urged them still to be his guests.                 Forbid it, Jove, and all the Pow'rs of heav'n!             That ye should leave me to repair on board             Your vessel, as I were some needy wretch             Cloakless and destitute of fleecy stores             Wherewith to spread the couch soft for myself,             Or for my guests. No. I have garments warm             An ample store, and rugs of richest dye;             And never shall Ulysses' son belov'd,             My frend's own son, sleep on a galley's plank             While I draw vital air; grant also, heav'n,             That, dying, I may leave behind me sons             Glad to accommodate whatever guest!                 Him answer'd then Pallas crulean-eyed.             Old Chief! thou hast well said, and reason bids             Telemachus thy kind commands obey.             Let _him_ attend thee hence, that he may sleep             Beneath thy roof, but I return on board             Myself, to instruct my people, and to give             All needful orders; for among them none             Is old as I, but they are youths alike,             Coevals of Telemachus, with whom             They have embark'd for friendship's sake alone.             I therefore will repose myself on board             This night, and to the Caucons bold in arms             Will sail to-morrow, to demand arrears             Long time unpaid, and of no small amount.             But, since he is become thy guest, afford             My friend a chariot, and a son of thine             Who shall direct his way, nor let him want             Of all thy steeds the swiftest and the best.                 So saying, the blue-eyed Goddess as upborne             On eagle's wings, vanish'd; amazement seized             The whole assembly, and the antient King             O'erwhelmed with wonder at that sight, the hand             Grasp'd of Telemachus, whom he thus bespake.                 My friend! I prophesy that thou shalt prove             Nor base nor dastard, whom, so young, the Gods             Already take in charge; for of the Pow'rs             Inhabitants of heav'n, none else was this             Than Jove's own daughter Pallas, who among             The Greecians honour'd most thy gen'rous Sire.                 But thou, O Queen! compassionate us all,             Myself, my sons, my comfort; give to each             A glorious name, and I to thee will give             For sacrifice an heifer of the year,             Broad-fronted, one that never yet hath borne             The yoke, and will incase her horns with gold.                 So Nestor pray'd, whom Pallas gracious heard.             Then the Gerenian warrior old, before             His sons and sons in law, to his abode             Magnificent proceeded: they (arrived             Within the splendid palace of the King)             On thrones and couches sat in order ranged,             Whom Nestor welcom'd, charging high the cup             With wine of richest sort, which she who kept             That treasure, now in the eleventh year             First broach'd, unsealing the delicious juice.             With this the hoary Senior fill'd a cup,             And to the daughter of Jove gis-arm'd             Pouring libation, offer'd fervent pray'r.                 When all had made libation, and no wish             Remain'd of more, then each to rest retired,             And Nestor the Gerenian warrior old             Led thence Telemachus to a carved couch             Beneath the sounding portico prepared.             Beside him he bade sleep the spearman bold,             Pisistratus, a gallant youth, the sole             Unwedded in his house of all his sons.             Himself in the interior palace lay,             Where couch and cov'ring for her antient spouse             The consort Queen had diligent prepar'd.                 But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,             Had tinged the East, arising from his bed,             Gerenian Nestor issued forth, and sat             Before his palace-gate on the white stones             Resplendent as with oil, on which of old             His father Neleus had been wont to sit,             In council like a God; but he had sought,             By destiny dismiss'd long since, the shades.             On those stones therefore now, Nestor himself,             Achaia's guardian, sat, sceptre in hand,             Where soon his num'rous sons, leaving betimes             The place of their repose, also appeared,             Echephron, Stratius, Perseus, Thrasymedes,             Aretus and Pisistratus. They placed             Godlike Telemachus at Nestor's side,             And the Gerenian Hero thus began.                 Sons be ye quick--execute with dispatch             My purpose, that I may propitiate first             Of all the Gods Minerva, who herself             Hath honour'd manifest our hallow'd feast.             Haste, one, into the field, to order thence             An ox, and let the herdsman drive it home.             Another, hasting to the sable bark             Of brave Telemachus, bring hither all             His friends, save two, and let a third command             Laerceus, that he come to enwrap with gold             The victim's horns. Abide ye here, the rest,             And bid my female train (for I intend             A banquet) with all diligence provide             Seats, stores of wood, and water from the rock.                 He said, whom instant all obey'd. The ox             Came from the field, and from the gallant ship             The ship-mates of the brave Telemachus;             Next, charged with all his implements of art,             His mallet, anvil, pincers, came the smith             To give the horns their gilding; also came             Pallas herself to her own sacred rites.             Then Nestor, hoary warrior, furnish'd gold,             Which, hammer'd thin, the artist wrapp'd around             The victim's horns, that seeing him attired             So costly, Pallas might the more be pleased.             Stratius and brave Echephron introduced             The victim by his horns; Aretus brought             A laver in one hand, with flow'rs emboss'd,             And in his other hand a basket stored             With cakes, while warlike Thrasymedes, arm'd             With his long-hafted ax, prepared to smite             The ox, and Perseus to receive the blood.             The hoary Nestor consecrated first             Both cakes and water, and with earnest pray'r             To Pallas, gave the forelock to the flames.                 When all had worshipp'd, and the broken cakes             Sprinkled, then godlike Thrasymedes drew             Close to the ox, and smote him. Deep the edge             Enter'd, and senseless on the floor he fell.             Then Nestor's daughters, and the consorts all             Of Nestor's sons, with his own consort, chaste             Eurydice, the daughter eldest-born             Of Clymenus, in one shrill orison             Vocif'rous join'd, while they, lifting the ox,             Held him supported firmly, and the prince             Of men, Pisistratus, his gullet pierced.             Soon as the sable blood had ceased, and life             Had left the victim, spreading him abroad,             With nice address they parted at the joint             His thighs, and wrapp'd them in the double cawl,             Which with crude slices thin they overspread.             Nestor burn'd incense, and libation pour'd             Large on the hissing brands, while him beside,             Busy with spit and prong, stood many a youth             Train'd to the task. The thighs consumed, each took             His portion of the maw, then, slashing well             The remnant, they transpierced it with the spits             Neatly, and held it reeking at the fire.             Meantime the youngest of the daughters fair             Of Nestor, beauteous Polycaste, laved,             Anointed, and in vest and tunic cloathed             Telemachus, who, so refresh'd, stepp'd forth             From the bright laver graceful as a God,             And took his seat at antient Nestor's side.             The viands dress'd, and from the spits withdrawn,             They sat to share the feast, and princely youths             Arising, gave them wine in cups of gold.             When neither hunger now nor thirst remain'd             Unsated, thus Gerenian Nestor spake.                 My sons, arise, lead forth the sprightly steeds,             And yoke them, that Telemachus may go.                 So spake the Chief, to whose commands his sons,             Obedient, yoked in haste the rapid steeds,             And the intendant matron of the stores             Disposed meantime within the chariot, bread             And wine, and dainties, such as princes eat.             Telemachus into the chariot first             Ascended, and beside him, next, his place             Pisistratus the son of Nestor took,             Then seiz'd the reins, and lash'd the coursers on.             They, nothing loth, into the open plain             Flew, leaving lofty Pylus soon afar.             Thus, journeying, they shook on either side             The yoke all day, and now the setting sun             To dusky evening had resign'd the roads,             When they to Pher came, and the abode             Reach'd of Diocles, whose illustrious Sire             Orsilochus from Alpheus drew his birth,             And there, with kindness entertain'd, they slept.                 But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,             Look'd rosy from the East, yoking the steeds,             They in their sumptuous chariot sat again.             The son of Nestor plied the lash, and forth             Through vestibule and sounding portico             The royal coursers, not unwilling, flew.             A corn-invested land receiv'd them next,             And there they brought their journey to a close,             So rapidly they moved; and now the sun             Went down, and even-tide dimm'd all the ways.