"Oh tell us," they exclaimed--"tell us what it is!"

"Do not ask me," replied Hope, putting her finger on her rosy mouth.
"But do not despair, even if it should never happen while you live on
this earth. Trust in my promise, for it is true."

"We do trust you!" cried Epimetheus and Pandora, both in one breath.

And so they did; and not only they, but so has everybody trusted Hope,
that has since been alive. And to tell you the truth, I cannot help
being glad--(though, to be sure, it was an uncommonly naughty thing for
her to do)--but I cannot help being glad that our foolish Pandora peeped
into the box. No doubt--no doubt--the Troubles are still flying about
the world, and have increased in multitude, rather than lessened, and
are a very ugly set of imps, and carry most venomous stings in their
tails. I have felt them already, and expect to feel them more, as I grow
older. But then that lovely and lightsome little figure of Hope! What in
the world could we do without her? Hope spiritualises the earth; Hope
makes it always new; and, even in the earth's best and brightest aspect,
Hope shows it to be only the shadow of an infinite bliss hereafter!

CHAPTER IX

THE CYCLOPS

When the great city of Troy was taken, all the chiefs who had fought
against it set sail for their homes. But there was wrath in heaven
against them, for indeed they had borne themselves haughtily and cruelly
in the day of their victory. Therefore they did not all find a safe and
happy return. For one was shipwrecked, and another was shamefully slain
by his false wife in his palace, and others found all things at home
troubled and changed, and were driven to seek new dwellings elsewhere.
And some, whose wives and friends and people had been still true to them
through those ten long years of absence, were driven far and wide about
the world before they saw their native land again. And of all, the wise
Ulysses was he who wandered farthest and suffered most.

He was well-nigh the last to sail, for he had tarried many days to do
pleasure to Agamemnon, lord of all the Greeks. Twelve ships he had with
him--twelve he had brought to Troy--and in each there were some fifty
men, being scarce half of those that had sailed in them in the old days,
so many valiant heroes slept the last sleep by Simois and Scamander, and
in the plain and on the seashore, slain in battle or by the shafts of
Apollo.

First they sailed northwest to the Thracian coast,