Book XIX

are cloathed with a pure and lambent light, as with a garment; a light, not refembling that vouchfafed to mortals upon earth, which is rather darkness visible; but a celeflial radiance, without a name; an emanation, that penetrates the groflcft body, with more fubtilty than the rays of the sun penetrate the purest chryftal; which rather llrengthcns than dazzles the fight, and diffufes, through the foul, a fcrenity which no language can express. By this ethereal eflfence, the blellcd are fuflained in everlalling life; it pervades them; it incorporates with them, as food incorporates with the mortal body: they see ir, they feci it, they breathe it, and it produces in them an inexhauftible source of fcrenity and joy. It is a fountain of delight, in which they are absorbed, as fifhes are absorbed in the sea: they wish for nothing, and, having nothing, they pofTefs all things. This ccleftial light fatiates the hunger of the foul; every defne is precluded; and they have a fulness of joy, which fcts them above all that mortals seek with such refHefs ardour, to fill the vacuity that aches for ever in their breast. All the delightful objedls that furround them are difregarded, for their felicity springs up within; and being perfctft, can derive nothing from without: fo the Gods, fatiated with nciftar and ambrofia, difdain, as gross and impure, all the dainties of the mofl luxurious table upon earth. From these feats of tranquillity, all evils fly to a remote distance: death, disease, poverty, and pain; regret and remorse; fear, and even hope, which is sometimes not less painful than fear itself;. aniraofity, difguft, and refentment, are, for ever, denied access.

The lofty mountains of Thrace, whose fummits, hoary with everlafling fnows, have pierced the clouds from the beginning of time, might sooner be overturned from their foundations, though deep as the center, than the peace of these happy beings be interrupted for a moment. They are, indeed, touched with pity at the miferics of life; but it is a fooihing and tender passion, that takes nothing from from their immutable felicity. Their countenances shine with a Divine glory; with the bloom of unfading youth, the brightness of cverlalling joy; of joy, which, superior to the wanton levitrj'' of mirth, is calm, silent and solemn, the sublime fruition of truth and virtue. They feel, every moment, what a mother feels at the return of an only son, whom flic believed to be dead: but the pleasure, which, in the breast of the mother is tranfient, is permanent in theirs; it can neither languifh, nor cease: they have all the gladness that is inspired by wine, without either the tumult or the folly; they converse together concerning what they see, and what they enjoy; they despise the opprobrious luxury and idle pomp of their former condition, which they review with difguft and regret; they enjoy the remembrance of their difficulties and dillrefs during the short period, in which, to maintain their integrity, it was neceflary they should flrive, not only against others, but themselves; and they acknowledge the guidance and prote(5tion of the Gods, who conducted them in safety through fo many dangers, with gratitude and admiration. Something ineffable and Divine, is continually poured into their hearts; something like an cfflvix of Divinity itself, which incorporates with their own nature. They see, they feel, that they are happy; and are secretly conscious, that they shall be happy for ever. They sing the praifcs of the Gods, as with one voice: in the whole afTembly, there. is but one mind, and one heart; and the fame ftrcam of Divine felicity circulates through every breast.

In this sacred and supreme delight whole ages glide away unperceived, and seem shorter than the happieft hours upon earth; but gliding ages Hill leave their happiness entire. They reign together, not upon thrones which the hand of men can overturn, but in themselves, with a power that is absolute and immutable, :nQt derived from without, or dependant upon a defpicable and

2 wretched wretched multitude. They are not distinguished by the crowns that fo often conceal, under a falfc luih'e, the mournful gloom of anxiety and terror. The Gods themselves have placed, upon their heads, diadems of everlasting splendor, the fymbols and the pledge of happiness and immortality.

Telemachus, who looked round these happy fields for his father in vain, was fo struck with the calm but sublime enjoyments of the place, that he was now grieved not to find him among the dead, and lamented the necessity he was under himself of returning back to the living: '^It is here alone, says he, that there is Jife; the shadow only, and not the reality, is to be found upon earth." He observed, however, with astonishment, that the numjber offings that were punished in, Tartarus, was great, and the number of those that were rewarded in Elyfium, was small: from this difproportion, he inferred, that there were but few princes, whose fortitude could efFe6lually rcfift their own power, and the flattery by which their pallions were continually excited: he per- . ceived that good kings were, for this reason, rare; and that the greater number, are fo wicked, that if the Gods, after having suffered them to abuse their power during life, were not to punish them among the dead, they would cease to be just.

Telemachus, not seeing his father Ulysses among these happy few, looked round for his grand father, the divine Laertes. While his eyes were ineffectually employed in this search, an old man advanced towards him, whose appearance was, in the highefl. degree, venerable and majeftic: his old age did not refemble that of men, who bend under the weight of years upon earth; it wasa kind of namelefs indication, that he had been old before hedied; it was something, that blended all the dignity of age, with all the graces of youth; for to those, who enter the fields of Ely-

Cimi, iium, however old and decrepit, the graces of youth are immediately restored. This venerable figure came up haftily to Telema- CHus; and looking upon him with a familiar complacency, as one whom he knew and loved, the youth, to whom he was wholly a stranger, flood fdent in confusion and fufpenfe. " I perceive, my son, said the fhade, that thou dost not recolledt me; but I am not offended. I am Arcefius, the father of Laertes; and my days upon earth were accompliflicd, a little before Ulysses, my grand son, went from hhaca to the siege of Troy: thou wast yet an infant, in the arms of thy nurse; but I had then conceived hopes of thee, which are now justified; since thou hast descended into the dominions of Pluto, in search of thy father, and the Gods have fuftained thee in the attempt. The Gods, O fortunate youth! regard thee with_pe.c,uli4r,lQye; and will diftinguilh thee, by glory equal to that of Ulysses. I am happy once more to behold thee: but search for Ulysses no more among the dead; he Hill lives; and is reserved to render my line illustrious, by new honours at Ithaca. Laertes himself, though the hand of time is now heavy upon him, still draws the breath of life, and expecSts that his son shall return to close his eyes. Thus tranfitory is man, like the flower that blows in the morning, and in the evening is withered, and trodden imder foot! One generation pafTes away after another, like the waves of a rapid river; and time, rufhing on with silent but irrefiftible fpecd, carries with him all that can best pretend to permanence and ftability. Even thou, O my son! alas! even thou, who art now happy in the vigour, the vivacity, and the bloom of youth j shalt find this lovely season, fo fruitful of delight, a tranfient flower, that fades as soon as it is blown: without having been conscious that thou wert changing, thou wilt perceive thyself changed: the •train of graces and pleasures, that now fport around thee, health, vigour, and joy, shall vanifh like the phantoms of a dream, and leave thee nothing but a mournful remembrance, that they once were thine. Old age shall infenfibly Heal upon thee; that enemy to joy, shall clifTufe, through thee, his own languors; shall contrac^t thy brow into wrinkles, incline thy body to the earth, enfeeble every limb, and dry up, for ever, that fountain of delight, which now springs in thy breast: thou shalt look round upon all that is present, with difguft; anticipate all that is future, with dread; and retain thy fenfibility, only for pain and anguish. This time appears, to thee, to be far distant: but, alas! thou art deceived; it approaches with irrefiftible rapidity, and is, therefore, at hand: that which draws near fo fast, can never be remote; and the present, for ever flying, is remote already; even while we speak it is past, and it returns no more. Let the present, therefore, be light in thy eflimation; tread the path of virtue, however rugged, with ^erfeyerance; and fix thine eye upon futurity: let purity of manjiers, and a love of justice, secure thee a place in this happy residence of peace. _ Thou shalt soon see thy father refume his authority in hhaca; and it is decreed, that thou Ihalt succeed him on the throne. But royalty, O my son! is a deceitful thing: those, who behold it at a distance, see nothing but greatncfs, splendor, and delight; those, who examine it near, find only toil, perplexity, solicitude and fear. In a private station, a life of ease and obscurity is no reproach: but a king cannot prefer ease and leisure to the painful labours of government, without infamy; he must Uye, not for himself, but for those he governs: the leafl fault he commits, produces infinite mischief; for it diffufes^ mifcry through a whole people, and sometimes for many generations. It is his duty to humble the infolencc of guilt, to support innocence, and repress calumny. It is not enough, to abflain from doing evil; he must exert himself to the uttermoft, in doing good: neither will it suffice, to do good as an individual; he must prevent the mischief that others would do, if they were not restrained.

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3^-4 BOOK XIX.

Think, then, of royalty, O my son! as a flate, not of ease and fecLirity, but of difficuhy and danger; and call up all thy courage, to refill thyself, to controul thy passions, and difappoint flattery."

Whiile Arccfius was yet speaking, he seemed to glow with the divine ardour of inspiration; and when he displayed the mifcries of royalty, Telemachus perceived, in his countenance, flrong cr.prcffions of pity. " Royalty, said he, when it is alTumed to procure felfifh indulgencies, degenerates into tyranny; when it is alTumed to fulfil its duties, to govern, cherilh, and prote(5l an innumerable people, as a father protects, cheriflies and governs his children, it is a servitude moll laborious and painful, and requires the fortitude and patience of heroic virtue. It is, however, certain, that those, who fulfil the duties of government with diligence and integrity, shall, here, poflefs all that the power of the Gods can bellow, to render happiness compleat!"

While Telemachus lillened to this discourse, it funk deep into' bis heart: it was engraven upon that living tablet, as the sculptor engraves, upon brafs, the chara6lers which he would tranfmit tothe latest generation. It was an emanation of truth and wisdom, that, like a fubtil flame, pervaded the mofl: secret rcceffes of his foul: it at once moved and warmed him; and he felt his heart, as it were, dillblved by a divine energy, not to be expreflTed; by something that exhauftcd the fountain of life: his emotion was a kind of desire, that could not be satisfied; an impulfc, that he could neither support nor refill; a fenfation exquifitely pleafmg; and yet mixed with such pain, as it was impoiTiblc to endure and live.

After some time, its violence abated; he breathed with more freedom; and he difcovcred, in the countenance of Arcefius, a fl;rong

B O O K XIX. ' 33-_f flrong likcnefs of Laertes; he had ahb a confufcd remembrance of fomcthing similar in the features of Ulysses, when he fct out for the siege of Troy.

This remembrance meked him into tears of tenderness and joy: he wished to embrace a person, whom he now regarded with reverence and afFedion; and attempted it many times in vain.the fliade, hght and unfubftantial, eluded his grasp, as the flattering images of u dream deceive those who expedt to enjoy them: the thirfly lip is sometimes in pursuit of water, that recedes before it; sometimes the imagination forms words, which the tongue refufes to utter; and sometimes the hand is eagerly stretched our, but can grasp nothing: fo the tender wish 6f Telemachus could not be gratified; he beheld Arcefius, he heard him speak, and he spoke to him; but, to touch him was impofiible. At length he enquired, who the persons were that he saw round him.

" You see, said the hoary fage, those who were the ornament of their age, and the glory and happiness of mankind; the few kings, who have been worthy of dominion, and filled the characftcr of Deities upon earth. Those whom you see not' far distant, but separated from them by that small cloud, are allotted to much inferiour glory: they were heroes, indeed;_^it the revi'ard of courage and prowefs, is much less, than that of wisdom, integrity, and benevolence.

" Among those heroes you see Thefeus, whose countenance is not perfectly chearful: some sense of his misfortune in placing too much confidence in a false and defigning woman, still remains; and he flill regrets, his having unjufily demanded the death of his son Hypolitus, at the hands of Neptune: how happy had it been for Thefeus, if he had been less liable to sudden anger!

Z z 2 You

J56 BOOK XIX.

You see also Achilles, who having been mortally wounded in the heel by Paris, fupports himself upon a fpear: if he had been as eminent for wisdom, justice, and moderation, as for courage, the Gods would have granted him a lon^ reign; but they had compaflion for the nations, whom he would have governed, by a natural succession, after the death of Peleus his father; and would not leave them at the mercy of ralhnefs and presumption; of a man more easily irritated, than the sea by a tempeft. The thread of his life was cut short by the fates; and he fell, as a flower, fcarce blown, falls under the plough-share, and withers, before the day is past in which it fprung up. They made use of him only, as they do of torrents and tempefts, to punish mankind for their crimes: he was the instrument, by which they ovenhrew the walls of Troy, to punish the perjury of Laomedon, and the criminal deflrcs of Paris. When this was done, they were appeafed; and they were implored, in vain, even by the tears of Thetis, to suffer a young hero to remain longer upon the earth, who was fit only to deflroy cities, to fubvcrt kingdoms, and to fill the world with confusion and trouble.

" You see another, remarkable for the ferocity of his countenance; that is Ajax, the son of Telamon, and the cousin of Achilles: you cannot be ignorant of his glory in battle. After the death of Achilles, he laid claim to his arms, which, he said, ought not to be given to another: but they were claimed also by your father, who infilled upon his right: the Greeks determined in favour of Ulysses, and Ajax slew himself in despair. The marks of rage ^ and indignation are still visible in his countenance: approach him not, my son, for he will think you come to infult the misfortune, that you ought to pity: he has discovered us already; and he rufhes into the thick fhade of the wood that is behind him, to avoid a fight that is hateful to his eyes. On the other fide, you see

4 He6lor,

HetHior, who would have been invincible, if the son of Thetis had lived in another age. That gliding fhade is Agamemnon, whofc countenance flill exprefles a sense of the perfidy of Clytemneftra. O my son! the misfortunes, that have avenged the impiety of Tantalus in his family, still make me tremble: the mutual enmity of the two brothers, Atreus and Thycftcs, filled the house of their father with horror and death, Alas! how is one crime, by a kind of dreadful necessity, the cause of more! Agamemnon returned, in triumph, from the fiegc of Troy; but no time was allowed him, to enjoy, in peace, the glory he had acquired in war. Such is the fate of almost all conquerors! All that you see, have been great in battle, but they have neither been amiable nor virtuous; and they enjoy only the fccond place, in the fields of Elyfium.

" Those, who have reigned with justice, and loved their people, are considered as the friends of the Gods; while Achilles and Agamemnon, flill full of their quarrels and their combats, are not perfc6l even here, but retain their natural defecfls, and suffer the infelicity they produce. These heroes regret, in vain, the life that they have lost -, and grieve at their change from a substance to a fhade. But the kings, who, with an equal hand, have dispensed justice and mercy, being purified by the divine light which perpetually renovates their being, feel their wishes anticipated/ and their happiness corapleat. They look back, upon 'the vain solicitude of mankind, with compaflion; and despise the great affairs that bufy ambition, as the play of an infant: they drink of truth and virtue at the fountain head, and are satisfied: they can suffer nothing, either from themselves or others; they have no wants, no wishes, no fears: with refpeft to them, all is finished, except their joy, which shall have no end.

♦ The venerable figure you see yonder, is hiachus, who founded the kingdom of Argos. The charader of old age is tempered with ineiTable ineffable fvvectnefs and majcRy: he moves with a light and glidint; pace, that rcfembles the flight of a bird, and may be traced by the flowers that spring up under his feet: he holds a lyre of ivory in his hand; and an eternal rapture impels him, to celebrate the wonders of the Gods with eternal praise: his breath is a gale of fragrance, like the breath of the morning in spring; and the harmony of his voice and his lyre, might add to the felicity, not of Elyflum only, but Olympus. This is the reward of his paternal affection to the people, whom he furroundcd with the walls of a new city, and fecurcd in the bleflings of society by legislation

" Among those myrtles, at a little distance, you see also Cecrops the ^Egyptian, the firfl sovereign of Athens, a city dedicated to the Goddefs of Wisdom, whose name it bears. Cecrops, by bringing excellent laws from iEgypt, the great source from which learning and good morals have flowed through all Greece, foftened the natural ferocity of the people, that he found in the scattered villages of Attica, and united them by the bands of society. He was just, humane, and companionate: he left his people in affluence, and his family in a modest mediocrity; for he was not willing that his children flliould succeed to his power, because there were others whom he judged more w^orthy of the truil.

" But I must now slew you Ericthon: you see him In that little •valley. Eridhon was the firll who introduced the use of silver as money, in order to facilitate commerce among the islands of Greece; but he forefaw dm inconveniencies, which would naturally rcfult from his expedient: " Apply yourselves, says he to the.people among whom he circulated his new coin, to accumulate natural riches; for they only deserve the name. Cultivate the.earth, that you may have wealth in corn and wine, and oil and fruit: multiply your flocks to the utmost, that you may be nourifhed rilhcd by their milk, and cloathcd with their wool; and it will then be impossible that you should be poor. The Jjiicrc'afc, even of your children, wijl be the increafc of your wealth, if you inure theni early to diligence and labour/; for the earth is inexhauftible; and 3^1_bejiioi-efruitfi4.Ij. in proportion as it Js cultivated by more, hands: it will reward labour, with boundless liberality; but, to idleness, it will be parfimonious and feverc. Seek principally, therefore, for that which is truly wealth, as it fupplics that which is truly want. Make no account of money, but as it is useful either to fupporr necellary wars abroad, or for the purchase of such commodities as are wanted' at home; and, indeed, it is to be wished, that no commerce should be carried on, in articles that can only support and gratify luxury, vanity, and lloth. My children, said the wife Eri6lhon, who thought frequent admonition necelFary, I greatly fear, that I have made you a fatal present: I forefee, that this money will excite avarice and ambition, the lust of the eye and the pride of life; that it will produce innumerable arts, which can only corrupt virtue and gratify idleness; that it will destroy your relifh for that happy iimplicity, which is, at once, the ble fling, and the security of life; and make you look, with contempt, upon agriculture, the support of our existence, and the fpurce of every valuable pofleflion. But I call the Gods to witness, that I made you acquainted with money, a thing useful in itself, in the integrity of my heart!" Eriifthon, however, having lived to see the mifchiefs that he dreaded come to pass, retired, overwhelmed with grief, to a dcfart mountain; where he lived, to an extreme old age, in poverty- and solitude, difgufted with government, and deploring the folly of mankind.

" Not long afterwards, Greece beheld a new wonder in Triptolemus, to whom Ceres had taught the art of cultivating the earth, and of covering it every year with a golden harvest. Mankind '

3 were.

were, indeed, already acquainted with corn, and the manner of mukiplying it by- feed; but they knew only the firfl: rudiments of tillage; and Triptolcmus, being sent by Ceres, came, with the plough in his hand, to offer the bounty of that Goddefs to all, who had spirit to furmount the natural love of rest, and apply themselves diligently to labour. The Greeks soon learnt, of Triptolcmus, to part the earth into furrows, and render it fertile by breaking up its surface. The yellow corn soon ftrewed the fields under the fickle of the reapers; and the wandering barbarians, that were difperfed in the forcfts of Epirus and Etolia, seeking acorns for their fubfiftence, when they had leai^nt to fow corn and make bread, threw off their ferocity, and submitted to the laws of civil society. Triptolcmus made the Greeks sensible of the pleasure, that is to be found in that independent wealth, which a man derives from his own labour; and in the pofTeilion of all the ncceffaries and conveniencies of life, the genuine produce of his own field. This abundance, fo simple and fo blamelefs, arifmg from agriculture, recalled to their minds the counsel of Eri6lhon. They held money in contempt; and all other factitious wealth, which has no value, but in the vain imaginations of men; which tempts them to pleasures, that are neither fmcere nor safe; and diverts them from that labour, which alone supplies all that is of real value, with innocence and liberty. They were now convinced, that a paternal field, with a kindly soil and diligent cultivation, was the best inheritance for those, that were wisely content with the simple plenty that contented their fathers; who, wanting nothing that was useful, defircd nothing that was vain. Happy would it have been for the Greeks, if they had fi;eadily adhered to these maxims, fo fit to render them free, powerful, and happy; and to inspire and maintain a uniform and active virtue, which would have made them worthy of such bleflings! But alas! they began to admire false riches; by degrees, they negleded the true;

and and they degenerated from this admirable fimpliclty! O my son! the fceptre of thy father shall, one day, descend to thee: in that day, remember to lead thy people back to agriculture, to honour the art, to encourage those that pra(5lirc it, and to fufTer no man either to live in idlcnefs, or employ himfclf only to propagate luxury and sloth. These men, who governed with such benevolence and wisdom upon earth, are here the favourites of Heaven! They were, in comparison with Achilles and other heroes, who excelled only in war, what the gentle and genial gales of spring are, to the defolating ilorms of winter; and they, now, as far furpafs them in glory, as the sun, that gives the day, furpafTes, in splendour, the moon that can only Icflen the darkness of the night."

While Arcefius was thus speaking, he perceived that Telemachus had fixed his eyes upon a little grove of laurels, and a rivulet of pure water, that was bordered with rofes, violets, lillies, and a thousand other odoriferous flowers, the vivid colours of which refembled those of Iris, when she descends upon earth, with some meflage from the Gods to man. He saw, in this delightful spot, an inhabitant of Elyfmm, whom he knew to be Sefoflris. There was, now, a majesty in the appearance of this great prince, infinitely fuperiour to that, which distinguished him upon the throne of ^gypt: his eyes fparkled with a divine radiance, that Telemachus could not ftedfaftly behold; and he appeared to have drank, €ven to excess, of immortality and joy; such was the rapture beyond all that mortals have the power to feel, which the Divine Spirit, as the reward of his virtue, had poured into his breast!

" O my father! faidTELEiMACHUs to Arcefius, I know him; it is Scfoftris, the wife and good, whom I beheld, not long fincc, upon his throne in J^gypt!" " It is he, replied Arcefius; and, in him, you Ixave an example of the boundless liberality, with which good

A a a kin^s kings are rewarded by the Gods: yet all the felicity, which now overflows his bosom, and fparkles in his eye, is nothing, in comparison of what he would have enjoyed, if, in the excess of profpcrity, he had been still moderate and just. An ardent desire to abafe the pride and infolence of the Tyrians, impelled him to take their city. This acquifition kindled a desire of more, and he was feduced by the vain glory of a conqueror: he fubdued, or rather he ravaged, all Asia. At his return into iEgypt, he found the throne ufurpcd by his brother, who had rendered the best laws of the country ineffedlual, by an iniquitous adminifti'ation. His conquells of other kingdoms, therefore, served only to throw his own into confusion: yet he was fo intoxicated with the vanity of conquest, that he harnefled the princes, whom he had fubdued, to hischariot. This was less excufable, than all the rest: but he became, at length, sensible of his fault, and ashamed of his inhumanity. Such was the fruit of his vi(5tories! and the great Sefoftris has left an example of the injury done by a conqueror, to his country and hirafelf, when he ufurps the dominions of others: this degraded the character of a prince, in other refpe(5ts fo just and beneficent; and this has diminiflicd the glory,, which the Gods intended for his reward.

** But seest thou not another fhade, my son, distinguished by a wound, and a lambent light that plays round it like a glory? That is Dioclides, a king of Caria, who voluntarily gave up his life in battle, because an oracle had foretold, that, in a war between the- ('arians and Lycians, the nation, whose king should be slain, would; be victorious.

" Observe yet another: that is a wife legiflator, w^ho, having instituted such laws as could not fail to render his people virtuous and happy, and bound them by a solemn oath not to violate them

8 irL in his absence; immediately disappeared, became a voluntary exile from his country, and died poor and unnoticed on a foreign shore, that his people might, by that oath, be obliged to keep his laws inviolate for ever.

*' He, whom thou feed not far off from these, is Eunefimus, a king of Pylos, and an anceftor of Neflor. During a pellilence that defolated the earth, and crouded the banks of Acheron with fhades newly difmifled from above, he requested of the Gods, that he might be permitted to redeem the lives of his people with his own: the Gods granted his request; and have, here, rewarded it with felicity and honour, in comparison of which, all that royalty upon earth can bellow, is vain and unfubftantial, like a Ihadow or a dream.

" That old man, whom you see crowned with flowers, is Belus. He reigned in TEgypt, and espoused Anchinoe, the daughter of the God Nilus, who fertilizes the earth with the flood that he pours over it from a fccret source. He had two sons; Danaiis, whose history you know; and jEgyptus, from whom that mighty kingdom derives its name. Belus thought himself more enriched, by the plenty which he diffufed among his people, and the love that he acquired in return, than by all the levies he could have raised, if he had taxed them to their utmofl ability. These, my son, whom you believe to be dead; these only, are the living: those are the dead, who languifli upon earth, the vidims of disease and sorrow! the terms are inverted, and should be reflored to their proper place. May the Gods vouchfafe thee such virtue, as this life shall reward; a life, which nothing shall' embitter or deft'rby! But haftc, now, from this world, to which thou art yet unborn: it is time, the search for thy father should be renewed. Alas, what fcenes of blood shalt thou behold, before he is found! What glory awaits

A a a 2 thee,

XIX.

thee, in the jBelds of Hefperia! Remember the counsels of Mentor: let these be the guide of thy life; and thy name shall be great to the utmost limits of the earth, and the rcmotefl period of time

Such was the admonition of Arcefius; and he immediately condudled Telemachus to the ivory gate, that leads from the gloomy dominions of Pluto. Telemachus parted from him, with tears in his eyes; but it was not possible to embrace him: and leaving behind him the fliades of everlasting night, he made hafte back to the camp of the allies; having joined the two young Cretans in his way, who had accompanied him to the mouth of the cavern, and defpaired of his return.

The END of the NINETEENTH BOOK, j.n:.^.

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