Book I

me. I have left Moored at the field behind the town my barque, Within the bay of Reithrus, and beneath The woods of Neius. We claim to be Guests by descent, and from our fathers’ time, As thou wilt learn if thou shouldst meet and ask Laertes, the old hero. It is said He comes no more within the city walls, But in the fields dwells sadly by himself, Where an old handmaid sets upon his board His food and drink when weariness unnerves His limbs in creeping o’er the fertile soil Of his rich vineyard. I am come because I heard thy father had at last returned, And now am certain that the gods delay His journey hither; for the illustrious man Cannot have died, but is detained alone Somewhere upon the ocean, in some spot Girt by the waters. There do cruel men And savage keep him, pining to depart. Now let me speak of what the gods reveal, And what I deem will surely come to pass, Although I am no seer and have no skill In omens drawn from birds. Not long the chief Will be an exile from his own dear land, Though fettered to his place by links of steel; For he has large invention, and will plan A way for his escape. Now tell me this, And truly; tall in stature