_Ul._ Goddess, if strong desire 150 Could ever conquer me, now should I do A thing for which no man might blame me, nay Even tho’ he pitied me, if too great longing Should fool me to my ruin. But in my heart Are other thoughts. The wife of Agamemnon At his return welcomed the king with state, And to his chamber led, but in the bath Soon as he lay, giving him honied words, She slew him with a dagger, to the deed Being prompted by her guilty paramour, 160 Ægisthus. Ten years numbered since that crime Double the equal motive of my fear: Nor can a woman, when her lord, tho’ loved, Is long away, be trusted, that she should not In weariness at last forsake her faith. Wherefore I would not enter in my house, Nay, nor be known of any, till I hear Such tidings as bespeak my coming well. _Ath._ O brave! thy wary mind has gone before, The way I would have led it: thou art as ever 170 Fore-reckoner with chance, to take thy stand Armed at all points. _Ul._ This fear, goddess, I learnt Of blind Tiresias, when at Circe’s bidding I sailed for south beyond the coasts of men, To dark Cimmerian cloud-land, and I saw The hapless king himself, who with thin voice Poured forth his wrongs; and many more I saw, Who suffered pain: the tearful shadows penned In mansions of austere Persephonè. From that old prophet’s tongue of warning weird 180 Still for myself in the end I gathered hope, And treasured it, but from thy tongue fear ill. _Ath._ Yet shouldst thou cherish all the words he spake. _Ul._ I ask not now what shall be, but what is. Beneath yon roof what passes? Thou canst give Present assurance. Tell me then. My wife— She is well? _Ath._ And beautiful. _Ul._ Faithful? _Ath._ And brave. _Ul._ My son Telemachus? _Ath._ He too is well. _Ul._ Great are the gods in heaven! I need no more. Thee, Goddess, will I worship while I live. 190