The Odyssey · Homer
ARGUMENT. THE INTERVIEW OF TELEMACHUS AND NESTOR.
Nor scorned the queen the holy choir to join (The first born she, of old Clymenus’ line: In youth by Nestor loved, of spotless fame. And loved in age, Eurydice her name). From earth they rear him, struggling now with death; And Nestor’s youngest stops the vents of breath. The soul for ever flies; on all sides round Streams the black blood, and smokes upon the ground The beast they then divide and disunite The ribs and limbs, observant of the rite: On these, in double cauls involved with art, The choicest morsels lay from every part. The sacred sage before his altar stands, Turns the burnt offering with his holy hands, And pours the wine, and bids the flames aspire; The youth with instruments surround the fire. The thighs now sacrificed, and entrails dress’d, The assistants part, transfix, and broil the rest While these officious tend the rites divine, The last fair branch of the Nestorean line, Sweet Polycaste, took the pleasing toil To bathe the prince, and pour the fragrant oil. O’er his fair limbs a flowery vest he threw, And issued, like a god, to mortal view. His former seat beside the king he found (His people’s father with his peers around); All placed at ease the holy banquet join, And in the dazzling goblet laughs the wine.
The rage of thirst and hunger now suppress’d, The monarch turns him to his royal guest; And for the promised journey bids prepare The smooth hair’d horses, and the rapid car. Observant of his word, the word scarce spoke, The sons obey, and join them to the yoke. Then bread and wine a ready handmaid brings, And presents, such as suit the state of kings. The glittering seat Telemachus ascends; His faithful guide Pisistratus attends; With hasty hand the ruling reins he drew; He lash’d the coursers, and the coursers flew. Beneath the bounding yoke alike they hold Their equal pace, and smoked along the field. The towers of Pylos sink, its views decay, Fields after fields fly back, till close of day; Then sunk the sun, and darken’d all the way. To Pherae now, Diocleus’ stately seat (Of Alpheus’ race), the weary youths retreat. His house affords the hospitable rite, And pleased they sleep (the blessing of the night). But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn, With rosy lustre purpled o’er the lawn, Again they mount, their journey to renew, And from the sounding portico they flew. Along the waving fields their way they hold The fields receding as their chariot roll’d; Then slowly sunk the ruddy globe of light, And o’er the shaded landscape rush’d the night.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.