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
“He spake, and plunged into the billowy deep. I to the fleet returned in company With my brave men, revolving, as I went, A thousand projects in my thought. I reached My galley by the sea, and we prepared Our evening meal. The hallowed night came down, And there upon the ocean-beach we slept. But when the rosy-fingered Morn appeared, The daughter of the Dawn, we drew our ships To the great deep, and raised the masts and spread The sails; the crews, all entering, took their seats Upon the benches, ranged in order due, And beat the foaming water with their oars. Again to Egypt’s coast I brought the fleet, And to the river that descends from Jove, And there I offered chosen hecatombs; And having thus appeased the gods, I reared A tomb to