Then spake discreet Telemachus again:— “Atrides Menelaus, reared by Jove, Ruler of tribes! the harder was his lot, Since even thus he could not shun the stroke Of death, not though a heart of steel were his. But now dismiss us to our beds, that there, Couched softly, we may welcome balmy sleep.”
He spake, and Argive Helen called her maids To make up couches in the portico, And throw fair purple blankets over them, And tapestry above, and cover all With shaggy cloaks. Forth from the palace halls They went with torches, and made ready soon The couches; thither heralds led the guests. There in the vestibule Telemachus, The hero, and with him the eminent son Of Nestor, took their rest. Meanwhile the son Of Atreus lay within an inner room Of that magnificent pile, and near to him The glorious lady, long-robed Helen, slept. But when at length the daughter of the Dawn, The rosy-fingered Morning, brought her light, Then Menelaus, great in battle, rose, Put on his garments, took his trenchant sword, And, having hung it on his shoulder, laced The shapely sandals to his shining feet, And issued from his chamber like a god In aspect. Near Telemachus he took His seat, and calling him by name he spake:—
“What urgent cause, my brave Telemachus, Brings thee to sacred Lacedaemon o’er The breast of the great ocean? Frankly say, Is it a private or a public need?”
And thus discreet Telemachus replied:— “Atrides Menelaus, reared by Jove, Ruler of nations! I am come to ask News of my father, if thou knowest aught. My heritage is wasting; my rich fields Are made a desolation. Enemies Swarm in my palace, and from day to day Slaughter my flocks and slow-paced horned herds; My mother’s suitors they, and measureless Their insolence. And therefore am I come To clasp thy