After their thirst and hunger had been sated,
Telemachus turned round to Nestor’s son,
ducking his head so no one else could hear.70
“Pisistratus! Dear friend, do you see how
these echoing halls are shining bright with bronze,
and silver, gold and ivory and amber?
It is as full of riches as the palace
of Zeus on Mount Olympus! I am struck
with awe.” When Menelaus heard his words,
he spoke to them in turn—his words flew out.
“No mortal, my dear boys, can rival Zeus.
His halls and home and property are deathless.
Some man may match my wealth; or maybe not.80
I suffered for it. I was lost, adrift
at sea for eight long years. I traipsed through Cyprus,
Phoenicia, Egypt, Ethiopia,
Sidon and Araby, and Libya,
where lambs are born with horns—their ewes give birth
three times a year. The master and his slave
have milk and cheese and meat; the flock provides
sweet milk year round. But while I wandered there
accumulating wealth, someone crept in
and killed my brother; his own scheming wife 90
betrayed him. I can take no joy in all
my wealth. Whoever they may be, your fathers
have surely told you how much I have suffered!
I lost my lovely home, and I was parted
for many years from all my splendid riches.
I wish I had stayed here, with just a third
of all the treasure I have now acquired,
if those who died at Troy, so far away
from Argive pastures, were alive and well.
I sit here in my palace, mourning all 100
who died, and often weeping. Sometimes tears
bring comfort to my heart, but not for long;
cold grief grows sickening. I miss them all,
but one man most. When I remember him,
I cannot eat or sleep, since no one labored
like him—Odysseus. His destiny
was suffering, and mine the endless pain
of missing him. We do not even know
if he is still alive—he has been gone
so long. His faithful wife and old Laertes110
must grieve for him, and young Telemachus,
who was a newborn when he went away.”
These words roused in the boy a desperate need
to mourn his father. Tears rolled down his face
and splashed down on the ground. He lifted up
his cloak to hide his eyes. But Menelaus
noticed and wondered whether he should wait
until the boy first spoke about his father,
or ask. As he was hesitating, Helen
emerged from her high-ceilinged, fragrant bedroom,120
like Artemis, who carries golden arrows.
Adraste set a special chair for her,
Alcippe spread upon it soft wool blankets,
and Phylo brought a silver sewing basket,
given to her by Alcandre, the wife
of Polybus, who lived in Thebes, in Egypt,
where people have extraordinary wealth.
He gave two silver tubs to Menelaus,
a pair of tripods and ten pounds of gold.
His wife gave other lovely gifts for Helen:130
a golden spindle and this silver basket
on wheels; the rims were finished off with gold.
Phylo, her girl, brought out that basket now,
packed full of yarn she had already spun.
A spindle wound around with purple wool
was laid across it. She sat down and put
her feet upon a stool, and asked her husband,
“Do we know who these men are, Menelaus,
who have arrived here in our house? Shall I
conceal my thoughts or speak? I feel compelled140
to say, the sight of them amazes me.
I never saw two people so alike
as this boy and Telemachus, the son
of spirited Odysseus, the child
he left behind, a little newborn baby,
the day the Greeks marched off to Troy, their minds
fixated on the war and violence.
They made my face the cause that hounded them.”
High-colored Menelaus answered, “Wife,
I saw the likeness too. Odysseus150
had hands like those, those legs, that hair, that head,
that glancing gaze. And when I spoke just now
about Odysseus and all the things
he suffered for my sake, the boy grimaced,
and floods of tears were rolling down his cheeks;
he raised his purple cloak to hide his eyes.”
Pisistratus, the son of Nestor, spoke.
“King Menelaus, you are right. This is
that warrior’s true-born son, just as you said.
But he is shy and feels he should not speak160
too boldly in your presence right away.
Your voice is like a god’s to us. Lord Nestor
sent me to guide him here. He longed to see you
to get some news from you or some advice.
A son whose father is away will suffer
intensely, if he has no man at home
to help him. In the absence of his father,
Telemachus has no one to protect him.”
Then Menelaus answered, “So the son
of my dear friend, who worked so hard for me,170
has come here to my house! I always thought
that I would greet that friend with warmth beyond
all other Argives, if Zeus let us sail
home with all speed across the sea. I would have
brought him from Ithaca, with all his wealth,
his son and people, and bestowed on him
a town in Argos, driving out the natives
from somewhere hereabouts under my rule.
We would have constantly spent time together.
Nothing would have divided us in love180
and joy, till death’s dark cloud surrounded us.
But I suppose the god begrudged our friendship,
and kept that poor, unlucky man from home.”
His words made everybody want to cry.
Helen was weeping, as was Menelaus.
Pisistratus’ eyes were full of tears
for irreplaceable Antilochus,
killed by the noble son of shining Dawn.
Mindful of him, he spoke with words like wings.
“King Menelaus, when we spoke of you 190
back home in our own halls, my father Nestor
always declared you are exceptional
for common sense. So listen now to me.
I disapprove of crying during dinner.
Dawn will soon come; weep then. There is no harm
in mourning when a person dies; it is
the only honor we can pay the dead—
to cut our hair and drench our cheeks with tears.
I had a brother named Antilochus,
one of the bravest fighters in the army,200
a sprinter and a warrior. He died.
I never got to meet him or to see him.
Perhaps you did?”
King Menelaus answered,
“My friend, you speak just as a wise man should,
like somebody much older than yourself.
You show your father’s wisdom in your speech.
A lineage is easy to discern
when Zeus spins out a life of happiness,
in marriage and in offspring. So he gave
good luck to Nestor all his life; he aged210
at home in comfort, and his sons are wise
and skillful spear-men. Yes, we will stop crying
and turn our minds to dinner once again.
Let them pour water on our hands. At dawn,
Telemachus and I can talk at length.”
At that Asphalion, the nimble house slave
of mighty Menelaus, poured the water
over their hands. They helped themselves to food
from laden tables. Then the child of Zeus,
Helen, decided she would mix the wine220
with drugs to take all pain and rage away,
to bring forgetfulness of every evil.
Whoever drinks this mixture from the bowl
will shed no tears that day, not even if
her mother or her father die, nor even
if soldiers kill her brother or her darling
son with bronze spears before her very eyes.
Helen had these powerful magic drugs
from Polydamna, wife of Thon, from Egypt,
where fertile fields produce the most narcotics:230
some good, some dangerous. The people there
are skillful doctors. They are the Healer’s people.
She mixed the wine and told the slave to pour it,
and then she spoke again.
“Now Menelaus,
and you two noble sons of noble men,
Zeus gives us good and bad at different times;