Come then, king, thou son of Atreus, Waster of the towers of Troïa, What of greeting and of homage Shall I give, nor overshooting, Nor due need of honour missing? Men there are who, right transgressing, Honour semblance more than being. 760 O'er the sufferer all are ready Wail of bitter grief to utter, Though the biting pang of sorrow Never to their heart approaches; So with counterfeit rejoicing Men strain faces that are smileless; But when one his own sheep knoweth, Then men's eyes cannot deceive him, When they deem with kindly purpose, 770 And with fondness weak to flatter. Thou, when thou did'st lead thine army For Helen's sake—(I will not hide it)— Wast to me as one whose features Have been limned by unskilled artist, Guiding ill the helm of reason, Giving men to death's doom sentenced *Courage which their will rejected.[328] Now nor from the spirit's surface, Nor with touch of thought unfriendly, All the toil, I say, is welcome, If men bring it to good issue. And thou soon shalt know, enquiring 780 Him who rightly, him who wrongly Of thy citizens fulfilleth Task of office for the city.[329] _Agam._ First Argos, and the Gods who guard the land, 'Tis right to greet; to them in part I owe This my return, and vengeance that I took On Priam's city. Not on hearsay proof Judging the cause, with one consent the Gods Cast in their votes into the urn of blood For Ilion's ruin and her people's death; *I' the other urn Hope touched the rim alone, 790 Still far from being filled full.[330] And even yet The captured city by its smoke is seen, *The incense clouds of Atè live on still; And, in the act of dying with its prey, From richest store the dust sends savours sweet. For these things it is meet to give the Gods Thank-offerings long-enduring; for our nets Of vengeance we set close, and for a woman Our Argive monster laid the city low,[331] Foaled by the mare, a people bearing shield, Taking its leap when set the Pleiades;[332] And, bounding o'er the tower, that ravenous lion 800 Lapped up its fill of blood of kingly race. This prelude to the Gods I lengthen out; And as concerns thy feeling (this I well Remember hearing) I with thee agree, And thou in me may'st find an advocate. With but few men is it their natural bent To honour without grudging prosperous friend: For ill-souled envy that the heart besets, Doubles his woe who suffers that disease: He by his own griefs first is overwhelmed, And groans at sight of others' happier lot. 810 *And I with good cause say, (for well I know,) They are but friendship's mirror, phantom shade, Who seemed to be my most devoted friends. Odysseus only, who against his will[333] Sailed with us, still was found true trace-fellow: