in it much choice substance.  I would that I had but a third part of those my riches, and dwelt in my halls, and that those men were yet safe, who perished of old in the wide land of Troy, far from Argos, the pastureland of horses.  Howbeit, though I bewail them all and sorrow oftentimes as I sit in our halls,—­awhile indeed I satisfy my soul with lamentation, and then again I cease; for soon hath man enough of chill lamentation—­yet for them all I make no such dole, despite my grief, as for one only, who causes me to loathe both sleep and meat, when I think upon him.  For no one of the Achaeans toiled so greatly as Odysseus toiled and adventured himself:  but to him it was to be but labour and trouble, and to me grief ever comfortless for his sake, so long he is afar, nor know we aught, whether he be alive or dead.  Yea methinks they lament him, even that old Laertes and the constant Penelope and Telemachus, whom he left a child new-born in his house.’

So spake he, and in the heart of Telemachus he stirred a yearning to lament his father; and at his father’s name he let a tear fall from his eyelids to the ground, and held up his purple mantle with both his hands before his eyes.  And Menelaus marked him and mused in his mind and his heart whether he should leave him to speak of his father, or first question him and prove him in every word.

While yet he pondered these things in his mind and in his heart, Helen came forth from her fragrant vaulted chamber, like Artemis of the golden arrows; and with her came Adraste and set for her the well-wrought chair, and Alcippe bare a rug of soft wool, and Phylo bare a silver basket which Alcandre gave her, the wife of Polybus, who dwelt in Thebes of Egypt, where is the chiefest store of wealth in the houses.  He gave two silver baths to Menelaus, and tripods twain, ad ten talents of gold.  And besides all this, his wife bestowed on Helen lovely gifts; a golden distaff did she give, and a silver basket with wheels beneath, and the rims thereof were finished with gold.  This it was that the handmaid Phylo bare and set beside her, filled with dressed yarn, and across it was laid a distaff charged with wool of violet blue.  So Helen sat her down in the chair, and beneath was a footstool for the feet.  And anon she spake to her lord and questioned him of each thing: 

’Menelaus, fosterling of Zeus, know we now who these men avow themselves to be that have come under our roof?  Shall I dissemble or shall I speak the truth?  Nay, I am minded to tell it.  None, I say, have I ever yet seen so like another, man or woman—­wonder comes over me as I look on him—­as this man is like the son of great-hearted Odysseus, Telemachus, whom he left a new born child in his house, when for the sake of me, shameless woman that I was, ye Achaeans came up under Troy with bold war in your hearts.’

And Menelaus of the fair hair answered her, saying:  ’Now I too, lady, mark the likeness even as thou tracest it.  For such as these were his feet, such his hands, and the glances of his eyes, and his head, and his hair withal.  Yea, and even now I was speaking of Odysseus, as I remembered him, of all his woeful travail for my sake; when, lo, he let fall a bitter tear beneath his brows, and held his purple cloak up before his eyes.’