Book III: Interview of Telemachus with Nestor

Now from the fair broad bosom of the seaInto the brazen vault of heaven the sunRose shining for the immortals and for menUpon the foodful earth. The voyagersArrived at Pylos, nobly built, the townOf Neleus. There, upon the ocean-side,They found the people offering coal-black steersTo dark-haired Neptune. On nine seats they sat,Five hundred on each seat; nine steers were slainFor each five hundred there. While they performedThe rite, and, tasting first the entrails, burnedThe thighs to ocean’s god, the IthacansTouched land, and, lifting up the good ship’s sail,Furled it and moored the keel, and then stepped outUpon the shore. Forth from the galley cameTelemachus, the goddess guiding him,And thus to him the blue-eyed Pallas said:—

“Telemachus, there now is no excuse,Not even the least, for shamefaced backwardness.Thou hast come hither o’er the deep to askFor tidings of thy father—what far landConceals him, what the fate that he has met.Go then at once to Nestor, the renownedIn horsemanship, and we shall see what planHe hath in mind for thee. Entreat him thereThat frankly he declare it. He will speakNo word of falsehood; he is truly wise.”

And thus discreet Telemachus replied:—“O Mentor, how shall I approach the chief,And with what salutation? Little skillHave I in courtly phrase, and shame becomesA youth in questioning an aged man.”

Pallas, the blue-eyed goddess, spake again:—“In part thy mind will prompt thy speech; in partA god will put the words into thy mouth—For well I deem that thou wert neither bornNor trained without the favor of the gods.”

Thus having said, the blue-eyed Pallas movedWith hasty pace before, and in her stepsHe followed close, until they reached the seatsOf those assembled Pylians. Nestor thereSat with his sons, while his companions stoodAround him and prepared the feast, and someRoasted the flesh at fires, and some transfixedThe parts with spits. As they beheld the approachOf strangers they advanced, and took their hands,And bade them sit. Peisistratus, a sonOf Nestor, came the first of all, and tookA hand of each, and placed them at the feastOn the soft hides that o’er the ocean sandWere spread beside his brother ThrasymedesAnd his own father; brought for their repastParts of the entrails, poured for them the wineInto a golden goblet, held it forthIn his right hand, and with these words bespakePallas, the child of aegis-bearing Jove:—

“Pray, stranger, to King Neptune. Ye have chancedUpon his feast in coming to our coast.And after thy libation poured, and prayerMade to the god, give over to thy friendThe goblet of choice wine that he may makeLibation also; he, I question not,Prays to the gods; we all have need of them.A younger man is he than thou, and seemsIn age to be my equal; therefore IWill give the golden goblet first to thee.”

He spake, and in the hands of Pallas placedThe goblet of choice wine. Well pleased was sheWith one so just and so discreet—well pleasedThat first to her he reached the cup of gold,And thus she prayed to Neptune fervently:—

“Hear, Neptune, thou who dost embrace the earth,And of thy grace disdain not to bestowThese blessings on thy suppliants. First of allVouchsafe to Nestor and his sons increaseOf glory; on the Pylian people nextBestow, for this most sumptuous hecatomb,Large recompense; and, lastly, grant to us—Telemachus and me—a safe returnTo our own country with the end attainedWhich brought us hither in our gallant barque.”

Thus did she pray, while she fulfilled the prayer;And then she handed to TelemachusThe fair round goblet, and in words like hersThe dear son of Ulysses prayed. MeanwhileThe Pylians, having roasted well the fleshAnd drawn it from the spits, distributingTo each his portion, held high festival.And when the calls of hunger and of thirstWere silenced, Nestor, the Gerenian knight,Began discourse, and thus bespake his guests:—

“The fitting time is come to ask our guestsWho they may be, since now their feast is o’er.Say then, O strangers, who ye are, and whenceYe come along the pathway of the deep.Have ye an errand here, or do ye roamThe seas at large, like pirates, braving death,And visiting with ravage foreign states?”

And then discreet Telemachus repliedBoldly—for Pallas strengthened in that hourHis heart that he might confidently askNews of his absent father, and so winA worthy fame among the sons of men:—

“O Nestor, son of Neleus, pride of Greece!Thou bid’st us tell thee whence we came, and IWill faithfully declare it. We are comeFrom Ithaca, beneath the Neritus,And private, and not general, is the causeOf which I am to speak. I came to askConcerning my great father, the large-souledAnd nobly-born Ulysses, who ’tis saidWith thee, his friend in arms, laid waste the townOf Ilium. We have heard where all the restWho warred against the Trojans were cut off,And died sad deaths; his fate alone the sonOf Saturn hath not chosen to reveal—Whether he fell on land by hostile hands,Or while at sea was whelmed beneath the wavesOf Amphitritè. Wherefore to thy kneesI come, to ask that thou—if so thou wilt—Relate the manner of his mournful death,As thou didst see it with thine eyes, or elseAs thou from other wanderers hast heardIts history; for she who brought him forthBore him to be unhappy. Think thou notTo soften aught, through tenderness to me,In thy recital, but in faithful wordsTell me the whole, whatever thou hast seen.And I conjure thee, that if, in his life,My father, great Ulysses, ever gavePromise of word or deed for thee, and keptHis promise, in the realm of Troy, where yeAchaians bore such hardships, that thou nowRemember it and speak without disguise.”

And Nestor the Gerenian knight replied:—“My friend, since thou recallest to my mindThe sufferings borne by us the sons of Greece,Although of peerless valor, in that land,Both when we ranged in ships the darkling seaFor booty wheresoe’er Achilles led,And when around King Priam’s populous townWe fought, where fell our bravest, know thou thenThat there the valiant Ajax lies, and thereAchilles; there Patroclus, like the godsIn council; there my well-beloved sonBlameless and brave, Antilochus the swiftOf foot and warlike—many woes besideWe bore, and who of mortal birth could giveTheir history? Nay, though thou shouldst remainFive years or six, and ask of all the griefsEndured by the brave Greeks, thou wouldst departOutwearied to thy home, ere thou hadst heardThe whole. Nine years in harassing the foeWe passed, beleaguering them and planning wilesInnumerable. Saturn’s son at lastWith difficulty seemed to close the war.Then was there none who might presume to vieIn wisdom with Ulysses; that great manExcelled in every kind of stratagem—Thy father—if indeed thou be his son.I look on thee amazed; all thy discourseIs just like his, and one would ne’er believeA younger man could speak so much like him.While we were there, Ulysses and myselfIn council or assembly never spakeOn different sides, but with a like intentWe thoughtfully consulted how to guideThe Achaians in the way we deemed the best;But after we had overthrown and spoiledKing Priam’s lofty city, and set sailFor home, and by some heavenly power the GreeksWere scattered, Jupiter ordained for themA sad return. For all were neither wiseNor just, and many drew upon themselvesAn evil doom—the fatal wrath of her,The blue-eyed maid, who claims her birth from Jove.’Twas she who kindled strife between the sonsOf Atreus. They had called the Achaians allTo an assembly, not with due regardTo order, at the setting of the sun,And thither came the warriors overpoweredWith wine. The brother kings set forth the causeOf that assembly. Menelaus firstBade all the Greeks prepare for their returnO’er the great deep. That counsel little pleasedKing Agamemnon, who desired to keepThe people longer there, that he might sootheBy sacred hecatombs the fiery wrathOf Pallas. Fool! who could not see how vainWere such persuasion, for the eternal godsAre not soon won to change their purposes.They stood disputing thus, with bitter words,Till wrangling noisily on different sidesRose up the well-armed Greeks. The ensuing nightWe rested, but we cherished in our breastsA mutual hate; so for our punishmentHad Jove ordained. With early morn we drewOur ships to the great deep, and put our goodsAnd our deep-bosomed women all on board.Yet half the host went not, but on the shoreRemained with Agamemnon, Atreus’ son,And shepherd of the people. All the restEmbarked, weighed anchor, and sailed swiftly thence;A deity made smooth the mighty deep,And when we came to Tenedos we paidOur offerings to the gods and longed for home—Vainly; it pleased not unpropitious JoveTo favor our return, and once againHe sent among us strife. A part of usLed by Ulysses, that sagacious prince,To please Atrides Agamemnon turnedTheir well-oared galleys back. But I, with allThe vessels of the fleet that followed me,Fled on my way, perceiving that some godWas meditating evil. With us fled,Encouraging his men, the warlike sonOf Tydeus. Fair-haired Menelaus cameLater to us in Lesbos, where we plannedFor a long voyage, whether we should sailAround the rugged Chios, toward the isleOf Psyria, keeping that upon the left,Or under Chios pass beside the steepsOf windy Mimas. We besought the godThat he would show a sign, and he complied,And bade us to Euboea cross the deepRight in the midst, the sooner to escapeAll danger. Then the wind blew strong and shrill,And swiftly o’er the fishy gulfs our fleetFlew on, and reached Geraestus in the night.There, having passed the mighty deep, we madeTo Neptune offerings of many a thighOf beeves. The fourth day dawned, and now the menOf Diomed, the mighty horseman, sonOf Tydeus, stopped at Argos with their fleet,While I went on to Pylos with the wind,Which never, from the moment that the godFirst sent it o’er the waters, ceased to blow.

“So, my dear child, I reached my home, nor knewNor heard from others who among the GreeksWas saved, or who had perished on the way.Yet what I since have heard while here I sitWithin my palace thou shalt duly learn.Nor is it what I ought to keep from thee.

“ ’Tis said the Myrmidonian spearmen, ledBy great Achilles’ famous son, returnedHappily home; as happily the sonOf Paeas, Philoctetes the renowned.Idomeneus brought also back to CreteAll his companions who survived the war;The sea took none of them. But ye have heard,Though far away, the fate of Atreus’ son—How he came home, and how Aegisthus laidA plot to slay him, yet on his own headDrew heavy punishment—so fortunateIt is when he who falls by murder leavesA son; for ’twas the monarch’s son who tookVengeance upon the crafty murdererAegisthus, by whose hand Atrides died.Thou too, my friend, for thou art large of frame,And of a noble presence, be thou brave,That men in time to come may give thee praise.”

Then spake discreet Telemachus again:—“O Nestor, son of Neleus, pride of Greece,Ample was his revenge, and far and wideThe Greeks will spread his fame to be the songOf future times. O might the gods conferOn me an equal power to avenge myselfOn that importunate, overbearing crewOf suitors, who insult me, and deviseEvil against me! But the gods denySuch fortune to my father and to me,And all that now is left me is to bear.”

Again spake Nestor the Gerenian knight:—“Since thou, my friend, hast spoken words which bringWhat I have heard to mind—the rumor goesThat in thy palace many suitors waitAbout thy mother, and in spite of theeDo grievous wrong. Now tell me; dost thou yieldWillingly, or because the people, swayedBy oracles, regard thee as their foe?Thy father yet may come again—who knows?—Alone, or with the other Greeks, to takeThe vengeance which these violent deeds deserve.Should blue-eyed Pallas deign to favor thee,As once she watched to guard the glorious chiefUlysses in the realm of Troy, where we,The Achaians, bore such hardships—for I ne’erHave seen the gods so openly befriendA man as Pallas there befriended him—Should she thus deign to favor thee and keepWatch over thee, then haply some of theseWill never think of marriage rites again.”

Then spake discreet Telemachus again:—“O aged man! I cannot think thy wordsWill be fulfilled! for they import too muchAnd they amaze me. What thou sayst I wishMay come to pass, but know it cannot be,Not even though the gods should will it so.”

Then thus the blue-eyed goddess, Pallas, spake:—“Telemachus, what words have passed thy lips?Easily can a god, whene’er he will,In the most distant regions safely keepA man; and I would rather reach my homeSecurely, after many hardships borne,Than perish suddenly on my returnAs Agamemnon perished by the guileOf base Aegisthus and the queen. And yetThe gods themselves have not the power to saveWhom most they cherish from the common doomWhen cruel fate brings on the last long sleep.”

Discreet Telemachus made answer thus:—“Let us, O Mentor, talk no more of this,Though much we grieve; he never will return,For his is the black doom of death ordainedBy the great gods. Now suffer me to askOf Nestor further, since to him are known,Beyond all other men, the rules of rightAnd prudence. He has governed, so men say,Three generations, and to me he seemsIn aspect like the ever-living gods.O Nestor, son of Neleus, truly sayHow died the monarch over mighty realms,Atrides Agamemnon? Where was thenHis brother Menelaus? By what artsDid treacherous Aegisthus plan his death,And slay a braver warrior than himself?Was not the brother in the Achaian townOf Argos? or was he a wandererIn other lands, which made the murderer bold?”

The knight, Gerenian Nestor, answered thus:—“I will tell all and truly. Thou hast guessedRightly and as it happened. Had the sonOf Atreus, fair-haired Menelaus, comeFrom Troy, and found Aegisthus yet aliveWithin the palace, he had never flungThe loose earth on his corpse, but dogs and birdsHad preyed upon it, lying in the fieldsFar from the city, and no woman’s voiceOf all the Greeks had raised the wail for him.Great was the crime he plotted. We were yetAfar, enduring the hard toils of war,While he, securely couched in his retreatAt Argos, famed for steeds, with flattering wordsCorrupted Agamemnon’s queen. At firstThe noble Clytemnestra turned awayWith horror from the crime; for yet her heartWas right, and by her side there stood a bardWith whom Atrides, when he went to Troy,Had left his wife with many an earnest charge.But when the gods and fate had spread a netFor his destruction, then Aegisthus boreThe minstrel to a desert isle, and thereLeft him to be devoured by birds of prey,And led the queen, as willing as himself,To his own palace. Many a victim’s thighUpon the hallowed altars of the godsHe offered, many a gift of ornamentsWoven or wrought in gold he hung withinTheir temples, since at length the mighty endFor which he hardly dared to hope was gained.We sailed together from the coast of Troy,Atrides, Menelaus, and myself,Friends to each other. When the headland heightOf Athens, hallowed Sunium, met our eyes,Apollo smote with his still shafts, and slewPhrontis, Onetor’s son, who steered the barqueOf Menelaus, holding in his handsThe rudder as the galley scudded on—And skilled was he beyond all other menTo guide a vessel when the storm was high.So there did Menelaus stay his course,Though eager to go on, that he might layHis friend in earth and pay the funeral rites.But setting sail again with all his fleetUpon the dark-blue sea, all-seeing JoveDecreed a perilous voyage. He sent forthHis shrill-voiced hurricane, and heaped on highThe mountain waves. There, scattering the barquesFar from each other, part he drove to Crete,Where the Cydonians dwell, beside the streamOf Jardanus. A smooth and pointed rockJust on the bounds of Gortys stands amidstThe dark-blue deep. The south wind thitherwardSweeps a great sea towards Phoestus, and againstThe headland on the left, where that small rockMeets and withstands the mighty wave. The shipsWere driven on this, and scarce the crews escapedWith life; the ships were dashed against the cragsAnd wrecked, save five, and these, with their black prows,Were swept toward Egypt by the winds and waves.

“Thus adding to his wealth and gathering goldHe roamed the ocean in his ships amongMen of strange speech. Aegisthus meantime plannedHis guilty deeds at home; he slew the kingAtrides, and the people took his yoke.Seven years in rich Mycenae he bore rule,And on the eighth, to his destruction, cameThe nobly-born Orestes, just returnedFrom Athens, and cut off that man of blood,The crafty wretch Aegisthus, by whose handFell his illustrious father. Then he badeThe Argives to the solemn burial-feastOf his bad mother and the craven wretchAegisthus. Menelaus, that same day,The great in war, arrived, and brought large wealth—So large his galleys could contain no more.“And thou, my friend, be thou not long away,Wandering from home, thy rich possessions left,And in thy palace-halls a lawless crew,Lest they devour thy substance, and divideThy goods, and thou have crossed the sea in vain.Yet must I counsel and enjoin on theeTo visit Menelaus, who has comeJust now from lands and nations of strange men,Whence one could hardly hope for a return;Whom once the tempest’s violence had drivenInto that great wide sea o’er which the birdsOf heaven could scarce fly hither in a year,Such is its fearful vastness. Go thou now,Thou with thy ship and friends; or if thou chooseThe way by land, a car and steeds are here,And here my sons to guide thee to the townOf hallowed Lacedaemon, there to findThe fair-haired Menelaus. EarnestlyBeseech of him that he declare the truth.Falsely he will not speak, for he is wise.”

He spake; the sun went down; the darkness creptOver the earth, and blue-eyed Pallas said:—“Most wisely hast thou spoken, ancient man.Now cut ye out the tongues, and mingle wine,That we to Neptune and the other godsMay pour libations, and then think of rest;For now the hour is come; the light is gone,Nor at a feast in honor of the godsShould we long sit, but in good time withdraw.”

Jove’s daughter spake; they hearkened to her words;The heralds came to them, and on their handsPoured water; boys began to fill the bowlsTo the hard brim, and ministered to eachFrom left to right. Then threw they to the flamesThe victims’ tongues, and, rising, poured on earthWine to the gods; and when that rite was paid,And when their thirst was satiate, Pallas roseWith nobly-born Telemachus to goTo their good ship, but Nestor still detainedThe twain, and chidingly bespake them thus:—

“Now Jove and all the other gods forbidThat ye should go from me to your good ship,As from some half-clad wretch, too poor to ownMantles and blankets in whose soft warm foldsHe and his guests might sleep; but I have both—Mantles and blankets—beautifully wrought,And never shall the son of that great manUlysses lie upon a galley’s deckWhile I am living. After me I hopeMy sons, who dwell within my palace-halls,Will duly welcome all who enter here.”

And thus again the blue-eyed Pallas spake:—“Well hast thou said, my aged friend, and wellDoth it become Telemachus to heedThy words, for that were best. Let him remainWith thee and sleep in thine abode, while IRepair to our black ship, encouragingThe crew, and setting them their proper tasks,For I am eldest of them all; the restAre young men yet, and moved by friendship joinedOur enterprise; the peers in age are theyOf the large-souled Telemachus. TonightI sleep within the hull of our black ship,And sail with early morning for the landOf the Cauconians, large of soul, from whomA debt is due me, neither new nor small.Send meantime from thy palace in a car,And with thy son, this youth, and be the steedsThe fleetest and the strongest in thy stalls.”

The blue-eyed Pallas, having spoken thus,Passed like an eagle out of sight, and allWere seized with deep amazement as they saw.The aged monarch, wondering at the sight,Took by the hand Telemachus, and said:—

“Of craven temper, and unapt for war,O friend, thou canst not be, since thus the godsAttend and guide thee in thy youth. And this,Of all the gods whose dwelling is in heaven,Can be no other than the spoiler-queenPallas, the child of Jove, who also heldThy father in such eminent esteemAmong the Grecians. Deign to favor us,O queen! bestow on me and on my sonsAnd on my venerable spouse the meedOf special glory. I will bring to theeA sacrifice, a broad-horned yearling steer,Which never man hath tamed or led beneathThe yoke. Her will I bring with gilded horns,And lay an offering on thine altar-fires.”

Such were his words, and Pallas heard the prayer,And then Gerenian Nestor led the way,And with his sons and sons-in-law approachedHis glorious palace. When they came withinThe monarch’s sumptuous halls, each took his placeIn order on the couches and the thrones.The old man mingled for them as they cameA bowl of delicate wine, eleven years old,Drawn by the damsel cupbearer, who tookIts cover from the jar. The aged chiefMingled it in the bowl, and, pouring outA part to Pallas, offered earnest prayerTo her, who sprang from aegis-bearing Jove.

When due libations had been made, and allDrank till they wished no more, most went away,Each to his home to sleep; but Nestor madeTelemachus, the son of the great chiefUlysses, rest upon a sumptuous couchWithin the echoing hall, and near to himThe chief of squadrons, skilled to wield the spear,Peisistratus, who only of his sonsAbode in Nestor’s halls unwedded yet;While in an inner room of that tall pileThe monarch slumbered on a bed of state,Decked for him by the labors of his queen.

Soon as the daughter of the dawn appeared,The rosy-fingered Morning, Nestor leftHis bed and went abroad, and took his seatOn smooth white stones before his lofty doors,That glistened as with oil, on which beforeSat Neleus, wise in council as the gods.But he had yielded to the will of fate,And passed into the Underworld. Now satGerenian Nestor in his father’s place,The guardian of the Greeks. Around his seat,Just from the chambers of their rest, his sonsEchephron, Stratius, and Aretus came,Perseus, and Thrasymedes; after theseCame brave Peisistratus, the sixth and last.They led Telemachus, the godlike youth,And placed him near them. The Gerenian knightNestor began, and thus bespake his sons:—

“Do quickly what I ask, dear sons, and aidTo render Pallas, first of all the gods,Propitious—Pallas, who has deigned to come,And at a solemn feast to manifestHerself to me. Let one of you go forthAmong the fields, and bring a heifer thence,Led by the herdsman. To the dark-hulled shipOf the large-souled Telemachus I bidAnother son repair, and bring the crewSave only two; and let another callLaërceus hither, skilled to work in gold,That he may plate with gold the heifer’s horns.Let all the rest remain to bid the maidsWithin prepare a sumptuous feast, and bringSeats, wood, and limpid water from the fount.”

He spake, and all were busy. From the fieldThe bullock came; from the swift-sailing barqueCame the companions of the gallant youthTelemachus; with all his implements—Hammer and anvil, and well-jointed tongs—With which he wrought, the goldsmith also came,And to be present at the sacred ritesPallas came likewise. Nestor, aged knight,Brought forth the gold; the artisan preparedThe metal, and about the bullock’s hornsWound it, that Pallas might with pleasure seeThe victim so adorned. Then Stratius graspedThe horns, and, aided by Echephron, ledThe bullock. From his room Aretus broughtA laver filled with water in one hand,And in the other hand a canisterOf cakes, while Thrasymedes, great in war,Stood near with a sharp axe, about to smiteThe victim. Perseus held a vase to catchThe blood, while Nestor, aged horseman, tookWater and cakes, and offering first a part,And flinging the shorn forelock to the flames,Prayed to the goddess Pallas fervently.

And now, when they had prayed, and flung the cakes,The large-souled Thrasymedes, Nestor’s son,Struck, where he stood, the blow; the bullock’s strengthGave way. At once the daughters of the king,And his sons’ wives, and queen Eurydicè—Nestor’s chaste wife, and daughter eldest bornOf Clymenus, broke forth in shrilly cries.From the great earth the sons then lifted upAnd held the victim’s head. Peisistratus,The chief of squadrons, slew it. When the bloodHad ceased to flow, and life had left its limbs,They quickly severed joint from joint; they hewedThe thighs away, and duly covered themWith caul, a double fold, on which they laidRaw strips of flesh. The aged monarch burnedThese over the cleft wood, and poured dark wineUpon them, while beside him stood the youthsWith five-pronged spits; and when the thighs were burnedAnd entrails tasted, all the rest they carvedInto small portions and transfixed with spits,And roasted, holding the sharp spits in hand.Meantime, fair Polycastè, youngest bornOf Nestor’s daughters, gave TelemachusThe bath; and after he had bathed she shedA rich oil over him, and in a cloakOf noble texture and a tunic robedThe prince, who, like a god in presence, leftThe bath, and took his place where Nestor sat,The shepherd of the people. When the youthsHad roasted well and from the spits withdrawnThe flesh, they took their places at the feast.Then rose up chosen men, and poured the wineInto the cups of gold; and when at lengthThe thirst and appetite were both allayed,The knight, Gerenian Nestor, thus began:—

“Rise now, my sons; join to the bright-haired steedsMy car, and let Telemachus depart.”

He spake; they hearkened and obeyed, and straightYoked the swift horses to the car. Then cameThe matron of the household, laying breadAnd wine within the car, and dainties suchAs make a prince’s fare. TelemachusThen climbed into the sumptuous seat. The sonOf Nestor and the chief of armed bands,Peisistratus, climbed also, took his placeBeside him, grasped the reins, and with the lashUrged on the coursers. Not unwillinglyThey darted toward the plain, and left behindThe lofty Pylos. All that day they shookThe yoke on both their necks. The sun went down;The highways lay in darkness when they cameTo Pherae and the abode of Diocles,Son of Orsilochus, who claimed to beThe offspring of Alpheius. They with himFound welcome there, and there that night they slept.

And when the rosy-fingered Morn appeared,They yoked the horses, climbed the shining car,And issued from the palace gate beneathThe sounding portico. PeisistratusWielded the lash to urge the coursers on,And not unwillingly they flew and reachedA land of harvests. Here the travellers foundTheir journey’s end, so swiftly those fleet steedsHad borne them on. And now the sun went down,And darkness gathered over all the ways.