In Lacedæmon, large, and apt for dances,[1] Athenian Pallas her access advances Up to the great-in-soul Ulysses’ seed, Suggesting his return now fit for deed. She found both him and Nestor’s noble son In bed, in front of that fair mansión, Nestorides surpris’d with pleasing sleep, But on the watch Ulysses’ son did keep, Sleep could not enter, cares did so excite His soul, through all the solitary night, For his lov’d father. To him, near, she said: “Telemachus! ’Tis time that now were stay’d Thy foreign travels, since thy goods are free For those proud men that all will eat from thee, Divide thy whole possessións, and leave Thy too-late presence nothing to receive. Incite the shrill-voic’d Menelaus then, To send thee to thy native seat again, While thou mayst yet find in her honour strong Thy blameless mother, ’gainst thy fathers’ wrong. For both the father, and the brothers too, Of thy lov’d mother, will not suffer so Extended any more her widow’s bed, But make her now her richest wooer wed, Eurymachus, who chiefly may augment Her gifts, and make her jointure eminent. And therefore haste thee, lest, in thy despite, Thy house stand empty of thy native right. For well thou know’st what mind a woman bears; The house of him, whoever she endears Herself in nuptials to, she sees increas’d, The issue of her first lov’d lord deceas’d Forgotten quite, and never thought on more. In thy return then, the re-counted store Thou find’st reserv’d, to thy most trusted maid Commit in guard, till Heav’n’s Pow’rs have purvey’d A wife, in virtue and in beauty’s grace, Of fit sort for thee, to supply her place. And this note more I’ll give thee, which repose In sure remembrance: The best sort of those That woo thy mother watchful scouts address Both in the straits of th’ Ithacensian seas, And dusty Samos, with intent t’ invade And take thy life, ere thy return be made. Which yet I think will fail, and some of them That waste thy fortunes taste of that extreme They plot for thee. But keep off far from shore, And day and night sail, for a fore-right blore, Whoever of th’ Immortals that vow guard And ’scape to thy return, will see prepar’d. As soon as thou arriv’st, dismiss to town Thy ship and men, and first of all make down To him that keeps thy swine, and doth conceive A tender care to see thee well survive. There sleep; and send him to the town, to tell The chaste Penelopé, that safe and well Thou liv’st in his charge, and that Pylos’ sands The place contain’d from whence thy person lands.” Thus she to large Olympus made ascent. When with his heel a little touch he lent To Nestor’s son, whose sleep’s sweet chains he loos’d, Bad rise, and see in chariot inclos’d Their one-hoof’d horse, that they might straight be gone. “No such haste,” he replied, “Night holds her throne, And dims all way to course of chariot. The morn will soon get up. Nor see forgot The gifts with haste, that will, I know, be rich, And put into our coach with gracious speech