the wine they drank Mingled a drug, an antidote to grief And anger, bringing quick forgetfulness Of all life’s evils. Whoso drinks, when once It is infused and in the cup, that day Shall never wet his cheeks with tears, although His father and his mother lie in death, Nor though his brother or beloved son Fall butchered by the sword before his eyes. Such sovereign drugs she had, that child of Jove, Given her by Polydamna, wife of Thon, A dame of Egypt, where the bounteous soil Brings forth abundantly its potent herbs, Of healing some and some of bane, and where Dwell the physicians who excel in skill All other men, for they are of the race Of Paeon. Now when Helen in the cups Had placed the drug, and bidden them to pour The wine upon it, thus she spake again:—
“Atrides Menelaus, reared by Jove, And ye the sons of heroes!—Jupiter The sovereign, gives, at pleasure, good and ill To one or to another, for his power Is infinite—now sitting in these halls, Feast and enjoy free converse. I will speak What suits the occasion.
I could not relate, I could not even name, the many toils Borne by Ulysses, stout of heart. I speak Only of what that valiant warrior did And suffered once in Troy, where ye of Greece Endured such hardships.
He had given himself Unseemly stripes, and o’er his shoulders flung Vile garments like a slave’s, and entered thus The enemy’s town, and walked its spacious streets. Another man he seemed in that disguise— A beggar, though when at the Achaian fleet So different was the semblance that he wore.
He entered Ilium thus transformed, and none Knew who it was that passed, but I perceived, And questioned him; he turned my quest aside With crafty answers. After I had seen The bath administered, anointed him And clothed him, and had sworn a solemn oath Not to reveal his visit to the men Of Ilium till he reached again the tents And galleys, then he opened to me all The plans of the Achaians.