"Thus spoke Proteus, and I was
broken hearted as I heard him. I sat down upon the sands and wept; I
felt as though I could no longer bear to live nor look upon the light
of the sun. Presently, when I had had my fill of weeping and writhing
upon the ground, the old man of the sea said, ‘Son of Atreus, do
not waste any more time in crying so bitterly; it can do no manner of
good; find your way home as fast as ever you can, for Aigisthos be
still alive, and even though Orestes anticipates you in killing him,
you may yet come in for his funeral.’
"On this I took comfort in spite
of all my sorrow, and said, ‘I know, then, about these two; tell
me, therefore, about the third man of whom you spoke; is he still
alive, but at sea, and unable to get home? Or is he dead? Tell me, no
matter how much it may grieve me.’
"‘The third man,’ he
answered, ‘is Odysseus who dwells in Ithaca. I can see him in an
island sorrowing bitterly in the house of the nymph Calypso, who is
keeping him prisoner, and he cannot reach his home for he has no
ships nor sailors to take him over the sea. As for your own end,
Menelaos, you shall not die in Argos, but the gods will take you to
the Elysian plain, which is at the ends of the world. There
fair-haired Rhadamanthus reigns, and men lead an easier life than any
where else in the world, for in Elysium there falls not rain, nor
hail, nor snow, but Okeanos breathes ever with a West wind that sings
softly from the sea, and gives fresh life to all men. This will
happen to you because you have married Helen, and are Zeus’
son-in-law.’
"As he spoke he dived under the
waves, whereon I turned back to the ships with my companions, and my
heart was clouded with care as I went along. When we reached the
ships we got supper ready, for night was falling, and camped down
upon the beach. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn
appeared, we drew our ships into the water, and put our masts and
sails within them; then we went on board ourselves, took our seats on
the benches, and smote the gray sea with our oars. I again stationed
my ships in the heaven-fed stream of Egypt, and offered hecatombs
that were full and sufficient. When I had thus appeased heaven's
anger, I raised a tomb to the memory of Agamemnon that his
kleos might be inextinguishable, after which I had a quick
passage home, for the gods sent me a fair wind.
Homer. The Odyssey. Rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read the original. Samuel Butler. Based on public domain edition, revised by Timothy Power and Gregory Nagy. A. C. Fifield, London. 1900 (?).
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