Declare thou also. Dwells she with our son
Faithful to my domestic interests,
Or is she wedded to some Chief of Greece?
Not so; she faithful still and patient dwells
Thy roof beneath; but all her days and nights
Devoting sad to anguish and to tears.
Thy fortunes still are thine; Telemachus
Cultivates, undisturb’d, thy land, and sits
At many a noble banquet, such as well
Beseems the splendour of his princely state,
For all invite him; at his farm retired
Thy father dwells, nor to the city comes,
For aught; nor bed, nor furniture of bed,
Furr’d cloaks or splendid arras he enjoys,
But, with his servile hinds all winter sleeps
In ashes and in dust at the hearth-side,
Coarsely attired; again, when summer comes,
Or genial autumn, on the fallen leaves
In any nook, not curious where, he finds
There, stretch’d forlorn, nourishing grief, he weeps
Thy lot, enfeebled now by num’rous years.
So perish’d I; such fate I also found;
Me, neither the right-aiming arch’ress struck,
Diana, with her gentle shafts, nor me
Distemper slew, my limbs by slow degrees
But sure, bereaving of their little life,
But long regret, tender solicitude,
And recollection of thy kindness past,
These, my Ulysses! fatal proved to me.
Of my departed mother; thrice I sprang
Toward her, by desire impetuous urged,
And thrice she flitted from between my arms,
Light as a passing shadow or a dream.
Then, pierced by keener grief, in accents wing’d
With filial earnestness I thus replied.
To clasp thee, that ev’n here, in Pluto’s realm,
We might to full satiety indulge
Our grief, enfolded in each other’s arms?
Hath Proserpine, alas! only dispatch’d
A shadow to me, to augment my woe?
Ah, son! thou most afflicted of mankind!
On thee, Jove’s daughter, Proserpine, obtrudes
No airy semblance vain; but such the state
And nature is of mortals once deceased.
For they nor muscle have, nor flesh, nor bone;
All those (the spirit from the body once
Divorced) the violence of fire consumes,
And, like a dream, the soul flies swift away.
But haste thou back to light, and, taught thyself
These sacred truths, hereafter teach thy spouse.
Encouraged forth by royal Proserpine,
Shades female num’rous, all who consorts, erst,
Or daughters were of mighty Chiefs renown’d.
About the sable blood frequent they swarm’d.
But I, consid’ring sat, how I might each
Interrogate, and thus resolv’d. My sword
Forth drawing from beside my sturdy thigh,
Firm I prohibited the ghosts to drink
The blood together; they successive came;
Each told her own distress; I question’d all.
She claim’d Salmoneus as her sire, and wife
Was once of Cretheus, son of Æolus.
Enamour’d of Enipeus, stream divine,
Loveliest of all that water earth, beside
His limpid current she was wont to stray,
When Ocean’s God, (Enipeus’ form assumed)
Within the eddy-whirling river’s mouth
Embraced her; there, while the o’er-arching flood,
Uplifted mountainous, conceal’d the God
And his fair human bride, her virgin zone
He loos’d, and o’er her eyes sweet sleep diffused.
His am’rous purpose satisfied, he grasp’d
Her hand, affectionate, and thus he said.
Shall tend to consummation of its course,
Thou shalt produce illustrious twins, for love
Immortal never is unfruitful love.
Rear them with all a mother’s care; meantime,
Hence to thy home. Be silent. Name it not.
For I am Neptune, Shaker of the shores.
She pregnant grown, Pelias and Neleus bore,
Both, valiant ministers of mighty Jove.
In wide-spread Iäolchus Pelias dwelt,
Of num’rous flocks possess’d; but his abode
Amid the sands of Pylus Neleus chose.
To Cretheus wedded next, the lovely nymph
Yet other sons, Æson and Pheres bore,
And Amythaon of equestrian fame.
Antiope; she gloried to have known
Th’ embrace of Jove himself, to whom she brought
A double progeny, Amphion named
And Zethus; they the seven-gated Thebes
Founded and girded with strong tow’rs, because,
Though puissant Heroes both, in spacious Thebes
Unfenced by tow’rs, they could not dwell secure.
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