breast, a boy, who now must sit Among grown men; and fortunate is he, For certainly his father will behold The youth on his return, and he embrace His father, as is meet. But as for me, My consort suffered not my eyes to feed Upon the sight of my own son; for first She slew me. This, then, I admonish thee— Heed thou my words. Bring not thy ship to land Openly in thy country, but by stealth, Since now no longer can we put our trust In woman. Meantime, tell me of my son, And faithfully, if thou hast heard of him As living, whether in Orchomenus, Or sandy Pylos, or in the broad realm Of Menelaus, Sparta; for not yet Has my Orestes passed from earth and life.’
“He spake, and I replied: ‘Why ask of me That question, O Atrides? I know not Whether thy son be living or be dead, And this is not a time for idle words.’
“Thus in sad talk we stood, and freely flowed Our tears. Meanwhile the ghosts of Peleus’ son Achilles, and Patroclus,