“ ‘These men I know; name now the third, who still Is kept from his return afar within The mighty main—alive, perchance, or dead; For, though I dread to hear, I long to know.’
“I spake, and Proteus answered me again:— ‘It is Laertes’ son, whose dwelling stands In Ithaca. I saw him in an isle, And in the cavern-palace of the nymph Calypso, weeping bitterly, for she Constrains his stay. He cannot leave the isle For his own country; ship arrayed with oars And seamen has he none to bear him o’er The breast of the great ocean. But for thee, ’Tis not decreed that thou shalt meet thy fate And die, most noble Menelaus, where The steeds of Argos in her pastures graze. The gods will send thee to the Elysian plain, And to the end of earth, the dwelling-place Of fair-haired Rhadamanthus. There do men Lead easiest lives. No snow, no bitter cold, No beating rains, are there; the ocean-deeps With murmuring breezes from the West refresh The dwellers. Thither shalt thou go; for thou Art Helen’s spouse, and son-in-law of Jove.’
“He spake, and plunged into the billowy deep. I to the