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e Which Artemis did raise in Calydon To make stern mouths wax white with foreign fear, All in the wild beginning of the world. So one went down and told Laertes' son Of what the brass-clad stranger from the straits Had worked in Ithaca; whereat the King Rose, like a god, and called his mighty heir, Telemachus, the wisest of the wise; And these two, having counsel, strode without, And armed them with the arms of warlike days-- The helm, the javelin, and the sun-like shield, And glancing greaves and quivering stars of steel. Yea, stern Ulysses, rusted not with rest, But dread as Ares, gleaming on his car Gave out the reins; and straightway all the lands Were struck by noise of steed and shouts of men, And furious dust, and splendid wheels of flame. Meanwhile the hunter (starting from a sleep In which the pieces of a broken dream Had shown him Circe with most tearful face), Caught at his spear, and stood like one at bay When Summer brings about Arcadian horns And headlong horses mixt with maddened hounds; Then huge Ulysses, like a fire of fight, Sprang sideways on the flying car, and drave Full at the brass-clad warrior of the North His massive spear; but fleet Telegonus Stooped from the death, but heard the speedy lance Sing like a thin wind through the steaming air; Yet he, dismayed not by the dreadful foe-- Unknown to him--dealt out his strength, and aimed A strenuous stroke at great Laertes' son, Which missed the shield, but bit through flesh and bone, And drank the blood, and dragged the soul from thence. So fell the King! And one cried "Ithaca! Ah, Ithaca!" and turned his face and wept. Then came another--wise Telemachus-- Who knelt beside the man of many days And pored upon the face; but lo, the life Was like bright water spilt in sands of thirst, A wasted splendour swiftly drawn away. Yet held he by the dead: he heeded not The moaning warrior who had learnt his sin-- Who waited now, like one in lairs of pain, Apart with darkness, hungry for his fate; For had not wise Telemachus the lore Which makes the pale-mouthed seer content to sleep Amidst the desolations of the world? So therefore he, who knew Telegonus, The child of Circe by Laertes' son, Was set to be a scourge of Zeus, smote not, But rather sat with moody eyes, and mused, And watch
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