“The soul of King Tiresias, saying this, Passed to the abode of Pluto; he had given The oracle I asked. I waited still Until my mother, drawing near again, Drank the dark blood; she knew me suddenly, And said in piteous tones these winged words:—
“ ‘How didst thou come, my child, a living man, Into this place of darkness? Difficult It is for those who breathe the breath of life To visit these abodes, through which are rolled Great rivers, fearful floods—the first of these Océanus, whose waters none can cross On foot, or save on board a trusty barque. Hast thou come hither on thy way from Troy, A weary wanderer with thy ship and friends? And hast thou not been yet at Ithaca, Nor in thine island palace seen thy wife?’
“She spake, I answered: ‘ ’Tis necessity, Dear mother, that has brought me to the abode Of Pluto, to consult the Theban seer, Tiresias. Not to the Achaian coast Have I returned, nor reached our country, yet Continually I wander; everywhere I meet misfortune—even from the time When, in the noble Agamemnon’s train, I came to Ilium, famed for steeds, and made War on its dwellers. Tell me now, I pray, And truly, how it was that fate on thee Brought the long sleep of death? by slow disease? Or, stealing on thee, did the archer-queen, Diana, slay thee with her silent shafts? And tell me of my father, and the son Left in my palace. Rests the sway I bore On them, or has another taken it, Since men believe I shall return no more? And tell me of my wedded wife, her thoughts And purposes, and whether she remains Yet with my son. Is she