Thy tale with raptures I could hear thee tell,

Thy woes on earth, the wondrous scenes in hell,

Till in the vault of heaven the stars decay.

And the sky reddens with the rising day.”


“O worthy of the power the gods assign’d

(Ulysses thus replies), a king in mind:

Since yet the early hour of night allows

Time for discourse, and time for soft repose,

If scenes of misery can entertain,

Woes I unfold, of woes a dismal train.

Prepare to hear of murder and of blood;

Of godlike heroes who uninjured stood

Amidst a war of spears in foreign lands,

Yet bled at home, and bled by female hands.


“Now summon’d Proserpine to hell’s black hall

The heroine shades: they vanish’d at her call.

When lo! advanced the forms of heroes slain

By stern AEgysthus, a majestic train:

And, high above the rest Atrides press’d the plain.

He quaff’d the gore; and straight his soldier knew,

And from his eyes pour’d down the tender dew:

His arms he stretch’d; his arms the touch deceive,

Nor in the fond embrace, embraces give:

His substance vanish’d, and his strength decay’d,

Now all Atrides is an empty shade.


“Moved at the sight, I for a apace resign’d

To soft affliction all my manly mind;

At last with tears: ‘O what relentless doom,

Imperial phantom, bow’d thee to the tomb?

Say while the sea, and while the tempest raves,

Has Fate oppress’d thee in the roaring waves,

Or nobly seized thee in the dire alarms

Of war and slaughter, and the clash of arms?’


“The ghost returns: ‘O chief of human kind

For active courage and a patient mind;

Nor while the sea, nor while the tempest raves

Has Fate oppress’d me on the roaring waves!

Nor nobly seized me in the dire alarms

Of war and slaughter, and the clash of arms

Stabb’d by a murderous hand Atrides died,

A foul adulterer, and a faithless bride;

E’en in my mirth, and at the friendly feast,

O’er the full bowl, the traitor stabb’d his guest;