For Death to come at length, ’tis due to all; Nor can the Gods themselves, when Fate shall call Their most-lov’d man, 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,