To give his friend the earth, being his pursuit, And all his exequies to execute. But sailing still the wine-hued seas,[2] to reach Some shore for fit performance, he did fetch The steep mount of the Malians, and there, With open voice, offended Jupiter Proclaim’d the voyage his repugnant mind, And pour’d the puffs out of a shrieking wind, That nourish’d billows heighten’d like to hills; And with the fleet’s division fulfills His hate proclaim’d; upon a part of Crete Casting the navy, where the sea-waves meet Rough Jardanus, and where the Cydons live. There is a rock, on which the sea doth drive, Bare, and all broken, on the confines set Of Gortys, that the dark seas likewise fret; And hither sent the South a horrid drift Of waves against the top, that was the left Of that torn cliff as far as Phæstus’ strand. A little stone the great sea’s rage did stand. The men here driv’n ‘scap’d hard the ship’s sore shocks, The ships themselves being wrack’d against the rocks, Save only five, that blue fore-castles bore, Which wind and water cast on Egypt’s shore. When he (there victling well, and store of gold Aboard his ships brought) his wild way did hold, And t’ other languag’d men was forc’d to roam. Mean space Ægisthus made sad work at home, And slew his brother, forcing to his sway Atrides’ subjects, and did sev’n years lay His yoke upon the rich Mycenian state. But in the eighth, to his affrighting fate, Divine Orestes home from Athens came, And what his royal father felt, the same He made the false Ægisthus groan beneath. _Death evermore is the reward of death._ Thus having slain him, a sepulchral feast He made the Argives for his lustful guest, And for his mother whom he did detest. The self-same day upon him stole the king Good-at-a-martial-shout, and goods did bring, As many as his freighted fleet could bear. But thou, my son, too long by no means err, Thy goods left free for many a spoilful guest, Lest they consume some, and divide the rest, And thou, perhaps, besides, thy voyage lose. To Menelaus yet thy course dispose I wish and charge thee; who but late arriv’d From such a shore and men, as to have liv’d In a return from them he never thought, And whom black whirlwinds violently brought Within a sea so vast, that in a year Not any fowl could pass it anywhere, So huge and horrid was it. But go thou With ship and men (or, if thou pleasest now To pass by land, there shall be brought for thee Both horse and chariot, and thy guides shall be My sons themselves) to Sparta the divine, And to the king whose locks like amber shine. Intreat the truth of him, nor loves he lies, Wisdom in truth is, and he’s passing wise.” This said, the Sun went down, and up rose Night, When Pallas spake: “O father, all good right Bear thy directions. But divide we now The sacrifices’ tongues, mix wines, and vow To Neptune, and the other Ever-Blest, That, having sacrific’d, we may to rest. The fit hour runs now, light dives out of date,