“Sing, Muse, the battles of the heroes dead—­”

The campaign thus happily finished, they made an entertainment to celebrate the victory, which, as is usual amongst them, was a bean-feast.  Pythagoras alone absented himself on that day, and fasted, holding in abomination the wicked custom of eating beans.

Six months had now elapsed, when a new and extraordinary affair happened.  Cinyrus, the son of Scintharus, a tall, well-made, handsome youth, fell in love with Helen, and she no less desperately with him.  They were often nodding and drinking to one another at the public feasts, and would frequently rise up and walk out together alone into the wood.  The violence of his passion, joined to the impossibility of possessing her any other way, put Cinyrus on the resolution of running away with her.  She imagined that they might easily get off to some of the adjacent islands, either to Phellus or Tyroessa.  He selected three of the bravest of our crew to accompany them; never mentioning the design to his father, who he knew would never consent to it, but the first favourable opportunity, put it in execution; and one night when I was not with them (for it happened that I stayed late at the feast, and slept there) carried her off.

Menelaus, rising in the middle of the night, and perceiving that his wife was gone, made a dreadful noise about it, and, taking his brother along with him, proceeded immediately to the king’s palace.  At break of day the guards informed him that they had seen a vessel a good distance from land.  He immediately put fifty heroes on board a ship made out of one large piece of the asphodelus, with orders to pursue them.  They made all the sail they possibly could, and about noon came up with and seized on them, just as they were entering into the Milky Sea, close to Tyroessa; so near were they to making their escape.  The pursuers threw a rosy chain over the vessel and brought her home again.  Helen began to weep, blushed, and hid her face.  Rhadamanthus asked Cinyrus and the rest of them if they had any more accomplices:  they told him they had none.  He then ordered them to be chained, whipped with mallows, and sent to Tartarus.

It was now determined that we should stay no longer on the island than the time limited, and the very next day was fixed for our departure.  This gave me no little concern, and I wept to think I must leave so many good things, and be once more a wanderer.  They endeavoured to administer consolation to me by assuring me that in a few years I should return to them again; they even pointed out the seat that should be allotted to me, and which was near the best and worthiest inhabitants of these delightful mansions.  I addressed myself to Rhadamanthus, and humbly entreated him to inform me of my future fate, and let me know beforehand whether I should travel.  He told me that, after many toils and dangers, I should at last return in safety to my native country, but would