The adventures of Telemachus, the son of Ulysses translated from the French.

THE ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS The Son of ULYSSES. PART. II. (Book 2)

IN the mean time the People be∣ing touch'd with Pity for the Son, and full of Horror at the barbarous Action of the Father, cry

out, That the just Gods have aban∣don'd him to the Furies; Their Rage furnishes 'em with Arms; They lay hold of what Weapons come next to hand; Discord breaths a secret Venom into their Breasts; The Cretans, the wise Cretans for∣get their belov'd Wisdom; They will no longer acknowledge the Son of sage Minos; Idomeneus' s Friends know not how to consult his Saftey but by conducting him back to his Ship; They embark with him, and commit their Flight to the Waves. Idomeneus being come to himself, returns them Thanks for carrying him away from a Land he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 besprinkled with his Son's 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and which he could no lon∣ger inhabit; the Winds waft 'em over to Hesperia, where they lay the Foundation of a new Kingdom in the Country of the Salentines.

But now the Cretans being desti∣tute of a King to govern 'em, they resolve to chuse such an one as will

keep up the Purity of the establish'd Laws. And these are the Mea∣sures they take for that purpose. All the chief Men of a hundred Ci∣ties are now to meet at one Place; they begin with offering Sacrifices; they assemble all the most renown'd Sages of the Neighbouring Coun∣tries to examine the Wisdom of those who shall be thought worthy of Command; they order publick Games, where all the Competitors are to fight; for the Crown is the Prize which they propose to him who shall excel, both as to strength of Body and endowment of Mind. They will have a King whose Body must be strong and active, and his Soul adorn'd with Wisdom and Virtue: They invite all Strangers to this grand Assembly. Nausicrates having recounted to us this wonde∣rous Story, cries out, Haste there∣fore, you Strangers, to our Assem∣bly; you shall contend with the Rest, and if the Gods decree the

Victory for either of you, he shall Reign in this Country. We fol∣lowed him, not out of any desire of being victorious, but only out of a Curiosity to see an Election so ex∣traordinary.

We arrived at a Place resembling a very large Circus, surrounded with a thick Wood. The middle of this Circus was an Arena (or Pit) prepared for the Combatants; it was surrounded by a large Am∣phitheater of green Turf, whereon sat in order an innumerable multi∣tude of Spectators. As soon as we came there, we were honou∣rably receiv'd; for the Cretans, of all Nations in the World, are the most noble and religious Observers of Hospitality; they desired us to take our Places, and invited us to enter the Lists. Mentor excus'd him∣self, upon account of his Age, and Hasael on the score of his Health. My Youth and Vigour left me with∣out Excuse; however, I cast a look

upon Mentor to discover his Mind, and I perceiv'd he desir'd that I should engage: I therefore accepted their Proposal, and strip'd my self of all my Cloaths; they poured Streams of sweet and shining Oyl on all my Limbs; and being co∣vered with Dust, I put in for one among the Combatants. 'Twas said on every Side, that the Son of Ulysses was come to dispute the Prize, and several Cretans, who had been at Ithaca during my Infancy, knew me again. The first Exercise was Wrestling. A Rhodian, about Five and Thirty Years of Age, sur∣mounted all those who dared to en∣counter him. He had still all the Vigour of Youth; his Arms were nervous and brawny; at the least of his Motions you might discover all his Muscles, and he was no less nimble than strong. He did not think it worth his while to over∣come me, and looking with Pity upon my tender Age, he was about

to retire, when I offer'd to contend with him. Thereupon we laid hold of one another; squeez'd each other till we were almost out of Breath; clap'd our Shoulders and Feet one against another; distended all our Nerves, and twined our Arms a∣bout like Snakes, either of us stri∣ving to lift his Antagonist from the Ground. Sometimes he endeavour∣ed to trip me over by pushing me on the right side, sometimes he en∣deavoured to bend me on the left: But when he had thus spent himself in vain, I gave him such a violent Push as made his Back bend, and so he tumbled down on the Stage; I fell upon him, and tho' he us'd all his Strength to get uppermost, yet I kept him under me without much difficulty: All the People cry'd, Victory to the Son of Ulysses, and so I help'd the dismay'd Rhodian to get up. The Combate with the Cestus was more difficult: The Son of a rich Citizen of Samos having

acquir'd a great Renown in this Exercise, all the rest yielded to him, and I alone offer'd to dispute the Victory with him. At first he treated me with such fierce Blows on my Head and Breast as made me spit Blood, and spread a thick Cloud over my Eyes; I stagger'd, he press'd me; I was almost out of Breath, but I was animated by Men∣tor's Voice, who cry'd to me, You Son of Ulysses, will you suffer your self to be vanquish'd? Anger sup∣ply'd me with fresh Strength, and I avoided several Blows which would have crush'd me down. As soon as the Samian had made a false Blow at me, and that his Arm was stretch'd out in vain, I surpriz'd him in that stooping Posture, and as he began to step back, I lifted up my Cestus that I might fall up∣on him with greater force; he en∣deavour'd to recover, but whilest he was in this disadvantagious Po∣sture, he gave me an opportunity

to throw him down. He had scarce touched the Ground, when I reach'd him my hand to raise him; but he got up by himself, cover'd with Dust and Blood, full of confusion and disorder, not daring to renew the Fight.

Immediately after began the Cha∣riot-Races: The Chariots were di∣stributed by Lot; mine happen'd to be the worst, both as to the lightness of the Wheels, and the mettle of the Horses: We started; a Cloud of Dust flew about us that darkned the very Sky; at first I let all my Com∣petitors go before me; a young Lacedemonian, nam'd Creantor, cast off all the rest behind him; a Cre∣tan, Policlete by name, follow'd him close: Hippomachus, a Rela∣tion of Idomeneus, who aspir'd to o'retake him, giving the Reins to his Horses, who were reeking with sweat, leaned on their loose Mane, and his Chariot-Wheels turn'd so very swift, that they seem'd to be

without Motion, like the Wings of an Eagle that cuts the Air. My Horses being animated, and having gather'd Breath by degrees, I out∣strip'd most of those who started with so much Fury. Hippomachus, driving his Horses too fast, the most mettlesome of 'em fell down, and by his fall depriv'd his Master of the Hopes of the Crown. Policletes leaning too much upon his Horses, and having no firm sitting, tum∣bled down at a Shock, lost his Reins, and 'twas great luck that he escap'd Death. Pisistrates, seeing with Eyes full of Indignation, that I was got up close to him, redoub∣led his Eagerness: Now he invok∣ed the Gods, promising 'em rich Offerings; then he cheer'd up his Horses with his Voice: He was affraid lest I should pass be∣tween him and the * 1.1 Mark; for my Horses which I spar∣ed at first, were now able to beat his; so that he had no other Hopes

left him, than to stop up my Pas∣sage: In order to it, he ventur'd to break his Wheel against the Mark, and broke it accordingly. I turn'd about presently to avoid his broken Chariot, and a moment after he saw me at the Goal. The People shouted a second time, and cry'd out, Victory to the Son of Ulysses, 'tis He the Gods have de∣stin'd to Reign over us. In the mean time the most illustrious, and the wisest among the Cretans, con∣ducted us into an old and consecrat∣ed Wood, remote from the sight of prophane Men, where the old Men whom Minos had establish'd to be the Judges of the Peo;le, and Guardians of the Laws, assembled us. We were the same who had contended at the Exercises, no other being admitted. The Sages open∣ed the Books wherein all the Laws of Minos are collected. As I drew near those old Men, whom Age rendred Venerable, without im∣pairing

the Vigour of their Mind, I felt my self seized with an awful Respect and Confusion. They sat in order, and motionless in their Places; their Hair was hoary; some of them had none at all; a calm and serene Wisdom shin'd in their grave Countenances; they spoke with Deliberation, and said nothing beside the purpose; when they happen'd to differ in Opinion, they were so moderate in maintain∣ing their Sentiments, that one would be apt to think that they were all of one Mind. This long Experience of past Transactions, and their constant Application and Study, gave them a clear distinct Idea of every Thing: But what most conduc'd to perfect their Rea∣son, was the Tranquillity of their Minds, freed from the fond Passi∣ons and wild Caprices of Youth; they were acted by Wisdom alone, and the Advantage they reap'd from their accomplish'd Virtue,

was, that they had such a perfect Mastery over their Passions, that they enjoy'd without trouble the pleasant and noble Delight of being govern'd by Reason. As I was ad∣miring them, I wish'd my Life were contracted, that I might ar∣rive on the sudden to so valuable an old Age; I accounted Youth un∣happy, for being so remote from that calm and clear-sighted Virtue. The Chief among those old Men, opened the Volume of Minos's Laws, which was a great Book usually kept among Perfumes in a golden Box. All those old Men kiss'd it with great Respect, for they said, That next the Gods, from whom good Laws are derived, nothing ought to be more sacred a∣mong Men, than even those Laws themselves which tend to make them Good, Wise, and Happy. Those who have in their Hands the Administration of the Laws for the Government of the People, ought

themselves to be govern'd by those very Laws upon all Occasions: 'Tis the Law, and not the Man that ought to Reign. Such was the Dis∣course of the Sages. Afterwards he who presided at the Assembly, pro∣pounded three Questions which were to be decided by the Maxims of Minos. The first Question was, Which of all Men was most free? Some answer'd, That 'twas a King who had an absolute Power over his Peo∣ple, and had conquer'd all his Ene∣mies. Others maintain'd, That 'twas a Man who being never mar∣ried, travell'd all his Life-time thro' divers Countries, without being ever subject to the Laws of any Nation. Others fancied, That it was a Bar∣barian, who living upon Hunting in the midst of Woods, was indepen∣dent upon any. Government, and li∣able to no manner of Want. Others thought it was a Man newly made Free, who coming out of a rigo∣rous Servitude, enjoy'd more than

any other, the sweets of Liberty. Others at last ventur'd to say, That it was a dying Man, because Death freed him from all Troubles; and that all Men had no more Power over him. When it came to my turn, I was not puzzled how to answer, because I still remember'd what Mentor had often told me: The most free of all Men, answer'd I, is he who can be free, even in sla∣very it self, and in what Condition or Country soever he be; a Man is most free, when he fears the Gods, and none but them: In short, that Man is truly free who disingag'd from all manner of Fear, or anxious Desire, is subject to the Gods and his Reason only. The old Men look'd upon one another smiling, and wonder'd to find that my An∣swer was exactly the same with that of Minos.

Afterwards, they propos'd the se∣cond Question in these Words; Which is the most unhappy of all Men?

Every one answer'd as he thought. One said, 'Tis a Man who has nei∣ther Estate, Health, nor Honour. Another said, 'Tis a Man who is Friendless. Others maintain'd, That 'tis a Man who has disobedient, ungrateful, and unworthy Chil∣dren. There came a Sage of the Isle of Lesbos, who said, That the most unhappy of all Men, is he who thinks himself so; for Unhap∣piness doth not depend so much up∣on the Things we suffer, as upon our own impatience and uneasiness which aggravates our Misfortunes. This Speech was highly commend∣ed and applauded by the whole As∣sembly, and every one thought that this Lesbian would carry the Prize in thus solving this Question; but being ask'd my Opinion, I answer'd according to Mentor's Maxims: The most unhappy of all Men, is a King, who thinks himself happy, when he makes all the rest of Man∣kind miserable; His blindness makes

him doubly unhappy; for not knowing his Misery, he cannot ap∣ply Remedies to it; nay, he fears to be acquainted with it; Truth cannot pierce through the Crowd of his Flatterers, and reach his View; his Passions tyrannize over him; he is a stranger to his Duty; he never tasted the Pleasure of doing good, nor felt the Charms of true Virtue; he is unhappy, and deserves to be so; his Unhappiness encreases daily; he runs to his own Ruin, and the Gods prepare an eternal Punishment to confound him. All the Assem∣bly confest I had overcome the wise Lesbian, and the old Men declar'd I had hit upon the true sense of Minos.

The third Question they ask'd, was, Which of the two is to be preferr'd, either a King victorious and invincible in War; or a King less experienced in War, but able to Rule his People wise∣ly in Peace? The Majority answer'd, That the King invincible in War

was to be preferr'd; What are we the better, said they, for having a King who knows how to govern well in Peace, if he knows not how to defend his Kingdom when a War comes? For then his Enemies will overcome him, and make his People Slaves. Others on the con∣trary maintain'd, That the peace∣ful King was much better, because he would be affraid of War, and consequently take care to avoid it. Others said, That a conquering King would consult and advance as well the Honour of his People as his own, and make his Subjects Ma∣sters of other Nations; whereas a peaceful King would sink their Courage into a shameful Effiminacy. They desir'd to know my Opinion, and I answer'd thus; A King who knows not how to govern, but ei∣ther in Peace or in War, and is in∣capable to rule his People in both, is but a Demi-King; but if you com∣pare a King, who is only skill'd in

War, to a wise King, who, with∣out being acquainted with War, is able to maintain it upon occasion, by his Generals, I think he is to be preferr'd to the other: A King whose Mind is entirely bent upon War, would always be for making War; and in order to extend his Dominion, and advance his Glory, not care if all his People were ruin'd. What are a People the better for the Conquest their King makes over o∣ther Nations, if they are miserable under his Reign? Moreover, long Wars are still attended with great Disorders; the Conquerors them∣selves grow loose and disorderly in those Times of Confusion. See at what a dear Rate Greece has tri∣umph'd over Troy, she was depriv'd of her Kings for above ten Years; whilst all is ruin'd by War, the Laws grow faint, Agriculture is neglected, all Arts languish and de∣cay; even the best Princes, when they have a War to carry on, are

oblig'd to commit the greatest of Ills; which is, to tolerate Licenti∣ousness, and make use of wicked Men. How many profligate Vil∣lains would be punish'd during the Peace, whose Audaciousness must needs be rewarded during the Dis∣orders of War? Never had any Nation a conquering Sovereign, but they must suffer much upon account of his Ambition. A Conqueror in∣toxicated with his Glory, ruins as much his victorious People, as the Nations he has vanquish'd. A Prince, who wants the necessary Qualifications for Peace, cannot make his Subjects relish the Fruits of a War happily ended; he is like a Man who could defend his own Field against his Neighbour, and usurp even that of his Neighbour himself, but could neither Plow nor Sow his Grounds, and so Reap no Harvest. Such a Man seems to be born to destroy, lay wast, and turn the World topsy-turvy,

and not to make the People happy by his wise Government. Now let's consider a peaceful King: 'Tis true, he is not fit for great Con∣quests; that is to say, he is not born to disturb the Tranquillity of his own People, by endeavouring to subdue those other Nations who are not his lawful Subject; but he is truly fit to govern in Peace, and is Master of all the Qualifications necessary to secure and protect his People against their Enemies. For he never attempts to do any thing that may disturb the publick Peace; he is religiously Faithful in all his Alliances; his Allies love him, they are not in fear of him, but rather repose an intire Confidence in him. If he happens to have some stirring, haughty, ambitious and trouble∣some Neighbour, all the other Kings who fear that stirring Neigh∣bour, and in no manner distrust the peaceful King, join themselves in Confederacy with that good King,

and keep him from being opprest. His Integrity, Honesty, and Mo∣deration make him the Arbiter of all the States that surround his; whilest the ambitious King, is odi∣ous to all the rest, and ever expos'd to their Leagues. This peaceful Prince has the Honour of being, as it were, the Father and Guardian of all the other Kings. These are the Advantages he has abroad; those he enjoys at home are still more wonderful: Since he is fit to govern in Peace, 'tis certain he go∣verns according to the wisest Laws; he discountenances Pomp, Luxury, and all those Arts that serve only to cherish and foment Vice; he pro∣motes and encourages those that are useful, and can supply Mankind with the real Wants of Life; more particularly, he causes his Subjects to apply themselves to Agriculture, and by that means, he procures them Plenty of all Necessaries. This laborious People, plain in their

Manners, and thrifty in their way of living, get an easie livelihood by Tilling of their Lands, and multi∣ply every day. This Kingdom contains a numberless Multitude of People, but a People sound in Body, vigorous and strong; not softned by Pleasures, exercis'd and inur'd in Virtue, not addicted to the En∣joyments of an effeminate luxurious Life; a People that know how to despise Death, and had rather part with their Lives, than with the Li∣berty they enjoy under a wise King, who Reigns only by the Dictates of Reason and Justice. Let now a neighbouring Conqueror attack this People, perhaps he may find them not so well us'd to a Camp, rank∣ing themselves in order of Battle, or the besieging of a Town; but he will find them invincible by their Numbers, their Courage, their Pa∣tience upon hard Duty, their Fami∣liarity with Want and Poverty, their Resolution and Obstinace in

Fights, and their constant Virtue not to be shaken even by ill Suc∣cess and Disasters. Moreover, if the King have not Experience e∣nough to Command his Armies in Person, he will easily find those who shall be able to Command them, and will make use of them without losing his Authority. In the mean time his Allies will furnish him with Supplies; his Subjects will ra∣ther die than undergo the Yoke of another unjust and tyrannical King, nay, the Gods themselves will fight for him. See how many Helps and Advantages he will find amidst his greatest Dangers: I therefore con∣clude, That a peaceful King who is unskil'd in War, is a very imper∣fect King, since he cannot discharge one of his most important Fun∣ctions, which is to overcome his Enemies; but at the same time, he is infinitely superiour to a conquer∣ing King, who wants the necessary Qualifications to govern in Peace,

and is only fit for War. I per∣ceiv'd a great many in the Assem∣bly who seem'd to dislike my Opi∣nion; but however, the old Men declar'd I had spoken the Sentiments of Minos. The first of those old Men cry'd out, I see the fulfilling of one of Apollo's Oracles, which is known through all our Island: Mi∣nos having consulted the God to know how long his Progeny would Reign, according to the Laws he had establish'd; Apollo answer'd him, Thy Off-spring will cease to Rule when a Stranger coming into thy Island, shall cause thy Laws to Reign. We fear'd lest some Stran∣ger should come and Conquer the Isle of Crete, but Idomeneus's Misfor∣tune, and the Wisdom of the Son of Ulysses, who best of any Mortal understands the Laws of Minos, do plainly discover to us the meaning of the Oracle; Why do we any longer deferr Crowning of him, whom Destiny appoints to be our

King? Thereupon the old Men went out of the sacred Wood, and the first of them taking me by the hand, declar'd to the People, who were impatient to know the Deci∣sion, That I had carried the Prize. His words were scarce out of his Mouth, when there was heard a confus'd Noise of all the Assembly, every one giving a shout for Joy; the Shore and all the Neighbouring Hills eccho'd with this general Ac∣clamation, Let the Son of Ulysses, who is as wise as Minos, Reign over the Cretans.

I paus'd a while, and then mak∣ing Signs with my hand, I demand∣ed Silence. In the mean time Men∣tor whisper'd me in the Ear: What! will you renounce your own Coun∣try? Will your ambitious Desire of a Crown make you forget Pene∣lope, who now expects you as her only Hopes, and the great Ulysses, whom the Gods resolv'd to restore to his Family? These words went

to my Heart, and check'd my Am∣bition of being a King. But now the profound Silence of this tumul∣tuous Assembly gave me occasion thus to proceed; Illustrious Cretans, I am not worthy to Command over you. The Oracle you mention'd, shews indeed that the Off-spring of Minos shall cease to Rule when a Stranger comes into this Island, and causes the Laws of that wise King to flourish; but it is not said that that Stranger shall Rule. I will suppose I am that Stranger mark'd out by the Oracle: I have made his Prediction good, I am come into this Island, I have discover'd the true Sense of the Laws, and I wish my Explanation may contribute to make them Reign with the Man whom you shall chuse: For my own part, I prefer my Country, the little Island of Ithaca, before the hundred Cities of Crete, and the Glory and Wealth of this fine King∣dom. Suffer me to pursue what

Fate hath destin'd; if I entred your Lists here 'twas not with hopes to Rule here, but only to merit your Esteem and your Pity, and that I might be furnish'd by you with Necessaries for my speedy Return into my Native Country; I would rather chuse to obey my Father Ulysses, and comfort my Mother Penelope, than Reign over all the Nations of the Universe: Oh! Cre∣tans, you see the bottom of my Heart: I must leave you, but Death alone shall put a Period to my con∣tinued Gratitude; yes, Telemachus will love the Cretans, and be as much concern'd for their Honour, as if 'twere his own, as long as he has Breath. I had scarce done speak∣ing, when there arose through the whole Assembly a hollow Noise, like that of the Sea-Waves, which dash one against another in a Storm. Some said, Is this a God in an hu∣mane Shape? Others maintain'd, They had seen me in other

Countries, and that they knew me again. Others cry'd, we must force him to Reign here. At last I resum'd my Discourse, and every one was silent in a moment, not knowing whether or no I was going to accept what I had at first reject∣ed; in these words therefore I ad∣dress'd my self to 'em:

Suffer me, Oh! Cretans, to tell you my Thoughts; You are the wisest of all Nations, but methinks Wisdom requires a Precaution which you seem to have forgot; you ought to fix your Election, not on that Man who best Discourses about the Laws, but on him who with a most steddy and constant Virtue, puts them in Practice. For my part, I am young, and consequently with∣out Experience, expos'd to the Vio∣lence of Passions, and more fit to be instructed by Obeying, in order to Command hereafter, than to Com∣mand at present: Therefore seek not a Man that has overcome others

in those Tryals of Wit and Strength, but one that has overcome himself; look for a Man that has your Laws deeply engraven in his Heart, and whose Life is a continu'd Practice of those Laws; let his Actions rather than his Words, bespeak your Choice.

All the old Men charm'd with this Discourse, and seeing the Ap∣plauses of the whole Assembly still encreasing, told me, Since the Gods will not suffer us to hope to see you Reign among us, at least do us the favour to assist us in the finding out a King that will govern according to our Laws: Do you know any Body that can Command with that Moderatiou you speak of? I know a Man, answer'd I, to whom I am beholden for all you have admir'd in me; 'tis his Wisdom and not mine that spoke to you; 'tis he who suggested to me all those Answers you heard just now.

Thereupon all the Assembly cast their Eyes upon Mentor, whom I shew'd to them, holding him by the hand; moreover I told them what care he had taken of me from my Infancy; what Dangers he had rescued me from; what Mis∣fortunes had besallen me as soon as I began to neglect his Counsels. At first they took no notice of him be∣cause of his plain negligent Dress; his modest Countenance, his being silent almost all the while, and his reserv'd Looks: But when they view'd him more attentively, they discover'd in his Countenance some∣thing that bespoke a firm, noble, and elevated Soul; they took no∣tice of the liveliness of his Eyes, and how active he was in all his Actions; they ask'd him several Questions, which he answer'd to the Admiration of all; they resolv'd to make him their King, but he ex∣cused himself without any concern: He told them he preferr'd the Sweets

of a private Life, before the grand Pomp of a Crown; that even the best Kings were unhappy in that they scarce ever did that Good they had a mind to do; and that through Surprize, and the Insinuations of Flatterers, they often did that Mis∣chief they never intended. He ad∣ded, that if Slaves be miserable, the Condition of a King is no less wretched, since 'tis but servitude in a disguise. When a Man, said he, is King, he is still dependent upon all those whom he has occasion for to support his Authority, and make others obey: Happy is he who is not oblig'd to Command! 'Tis only to ones own Country, when she in∣vests a Man with Power, that he ought to offer the dear Sacrifice of his Liberty, in order to consult and promote the publick Good.

At these words the Cretans, still full of wonder and admiration, ask'd him, What Man they ought to chuse? A Man, reply'd he, that's

well known to you all, since you must be govern'd by him, and such a one as is affraid to govern you. Whoever desires Sovereignty, is not acquainted with it; and how then will he perform the Duties incum∣bent upon his Dignity, if he be a stranger to them? He courts a Crown for himself, but you ought to endeavour after one who accepts it only for your advantage.

All the Cretans, being very much surpriz'd to see these two Strangers resuse a Crown, which a great ma∣ny others seek after with eager Am∣bition, they enqui'd who came a∣long with them. Nausicrates, who had conducted them from the Port to the Circus, where the Games were celebrated, shew'd them Ha∣sael, who was come with Mentor and my self from the Isle of Cyprus; but their wonder still encreased, when they heard that Mentor had been Hasael's Slave: That Hasael deeply affected with the Wisdom

and Virtue of his Slave, had made him his Counsellor and intimate Friend. That, that Slave made free, was the same who just now refused to be King; and that Hasael was come from Damascus in Syria to make himself acquainted with the Laws of Minos, so much was his Heart pos∣sest with the love of Wisdom. The old Men said to Hasael, We dare not to desire you to Rule over us, for we suppose your Thoughts are the same with those of Mentor; you despise Men too much to be willing to take upon you the Conduct of them. Besides, you have so far re∣nounc'd Riches, and the vain Pomp of a Crown, that you would not purchase them at the expence of your Liberty, and with the Fatigue and anxious Cares which are insepara∣bly attending upon Rule and Go∣vernment. Hasael answer'd, Do not understand me, Oh! Cretans, as if I despis'd Men. No: I know too well what great and noble Employ∣ment

it is to make them good and happy; but that Employment is full of Trouble and Dangers; the Pomp that attends it has but a false Brightness, which can only dazzle the Eyes of Vain-glorious Men. Life is short; Greatness and Eleva∣tion do more provoke the Passions, than they can satisfie them: My de∣sign in coming so far was not to purchase those false Goods, but only to learn to be easie without them. I must bid you farewel; I have no other Thoughts than to return to a peaceful and retir'd Life, where Wisdom shall fill my Heart, and nourish my Soul; and where the hopes that result from virtue to∣wards a better Life, shall comfort me under the Miseries of old Age; if I wish for any thing, 'tis not to be a King, but rather never to be parted from those two Men you see here before you.

At last the Cretans (addressing themselves to Mentor) cry'd out, You,

the wisest and greatest of all Mor∣tals, tell us then who it is we must chuse to be our King, for we will not let you go till you have deter∣min'd our Choice. To which he answer'd, Whilst I was among the Crowd of the Spectators, I took no∣tice of a vigorous old Man who shewed no manner of eagerness or concern; I ask'd who he was, and answer was made, he was call'd Aristomedes: Afterwards I heard some Body telling him that his two Sons were amongst the Combatants, at which he exprest no manner of Joy; he said, That as for the one, he did not wish him the Dangers which attend a Crown; and as for the other, he lov'd his Country too well, ever to consent that he should be King. By that I understood that this Father had a reasonable Love for one of his Sons, who is good and virtuous, and that he did not countenance the other in his vicious Excesses. My Curiosity still en∣creasing,

I enquired into the Life and Conversation of this old Man; One of your Citizens answer'd me, He bore Arms a long time; his Bo∣dy is cover'd with Wounds and Scars, but his plain and sincere Vir∣tue, entirely averse to Flattery, ren∣der'd him troublesome to Idomeneus, which is the Reason that King did not employ him in the Trojan War. He fear'd a Man who would give those wise Counsels, which he was not inclin'd to follow; he was even jealous of the Honour and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 which he would infallibly have acquir'd in a little time; he forgot all his past Services, and lest him here Poor, and expos'd to the Con∣tempt of those base Men, who va∣lue nothing but Riches; but con∣tented in his Poverty, he lives a pleasant Life in a remote Place of this Island, where he Tills and Ma∣nures his. Grounds with his own Hands. One of his Sons helps him in his Work, and they are both

happy in their mutual Love. By their Frugality and Labour they have sufficient of all Necessaries for a plain way of Living. That wise old Man distributes to the Sick and Poor of his Neighbourhood, all that he can spare from his own Wants, and his Son's. He sets all young People to work, and incourages, admonishes, and instructs them; he decides all Controversies amongst his Neighbours, and is, as it were, the Father of all Families. His own Misfortune is, that he has a second Son, who would never follow his Advice in any Thing: The Father having born with him a long time, with hopes to reclaim him from his Vices, has at last turn'd him out of his House, since which he has a∣bandon'd himself to fond Ambition, and all extravagant Pleasures. This, Oh! Cretans, is what I have been inform'd; you can tell whether that Relation be true: But if that Man be such as he is describ'd to be,

what need you celebrate any Games? Why do you assemble so many un∣known Persons? You have amongst you a Man who knows you, and whom you know; one who under∣stands the War; who has shewn his Courage not only against Darts and Arrows, but against dreadful Poverty, and has despis'd Riches ac∣quir'd by Flattery; one who loves Work; who knows how useful Agriculture is to a Nation; who ab∣hors Pomp and Luxury; who suf∣fers not himself to be unmann'd by a blind Fondness for his Children, and loves the Virtue of the one, and condemns the Vices of the o∣ther; in a word, a Man who is al∣ready the Father of the People: This must be your King, if so be you desire to see the Laws of wise Minos flourish amongst you.

All the People cry'd out, 'Tis true, Aristomedes is such as you de∣scribe him; 'tis he that deserves the Crown. The old Men order'd he

should be called; he was found a∣mongst the Crowd, undistinguish'd from the meaner Sort; and having appear'd before 'em, clam and un∣concern'd, they declar'd to him that they made him King. He answer'd, I cannot consent to it but upon these three Conditions: First, That I shall lay down my Dignity in two Years time, in case I cannot make you better than you are at present, and that you remain refra∣ctory to the Laws. Secondly, That I shall be free to continue my plain and frugal way of Living. And Thirdly, That my Children shall have no Promotions; and that after my death, they shall be treated with∣out any other distinction than ac∣cording to their Merit, like the rest of the Citizens. At these words the Air was fill'd with joyful Accla∣mations; the Chief of those old Men who were the Guardians of the Laws, put the Crown on Ari∣stomedes's Head; and afterwards

they offer'd Sacrifices to Jupiter, and the other great Gods. Aristomedes gave us Presents, not with that Mag∣nificence which is usual to Kings, but with a noble Simplicity: He gave to Hasael the Laws of Minos, written with Minos's own Hand; he likewise gave him a Collection of all the History of the Isle of Crete, from Saturn and the Golden Age, down to that Time: He sent Aboard his Ship all kinds of the choicest Fruits that grow in Crete, but are unknown in Syria, and of∣fer'd him all the Assistance he had occasion for. Now because we press'd our Departure, he order'd a Ship to be fitted up, and mann'd with a great number of strong Rowers, and arm'd Men; he gave us withal, changes of Cloaths, and all manner of Provisions. At that very instant there arose a fair Wind for Ithaca; this Wind being contrary to Hasael, oblig'd him to stay behind; he saw us go away, and embrac'd us as

dear Friends, whom he fear'd he should see no more: However, said he, the Gods are just; they see a Friendship founded on Virtue alone; they will one day bring us together again; and those happy Elysian Fields, where the Good and Just are said to enjoy an eternal Peace after death, shall see our Souls meet, ne∣ver to be parted any more. Oh! that my Ashes might be gather'd into the same Urn with yours! As he spoke these last Words, he shed a Flood of Tears, and his Voice was check'd by his deep Sighs: We wept no less than he, and in this solemn Woe he conducted us to our Ship. As for Aristomedes, he told us, 'Tis you made me King; re∣member what Dangers you have expos'd me to, and therefore require the Gods that they would inspire me with true Wisdom, and make me as much superior to other Men in Moderation, as I am above them in Authority. For my part I be∣seech

them to conduct you safe in∣to your Country, to confound the Insolence of your Foes, and bless you with the sight of Ulysses, reign∣ing in Peace with his dear Penelope. Telemachus, I give you a good Ship full of able Mariners and Soldiers, who may serve you against those unjust Men that persecute your Mo∣ther. Oh! Mentor, whose bound∣less Wisdom leaves me no room, even to wish you an addition of any Thing: Go both in Peace, and make each other happy; remember Ari∣stomedes, and if ever the Ithacians have occasion for the Cretans, de∣pend upon me as long as I have Breath. He embrac'd us, and we could not forbear mingling our Tears with our Thanks.

In the mean time the Wind which fill'd our spreading Sails, seem'd to promise a safe Voyage. And now Mount Ida began to decrease in our sight, and look'd like a little Hill; the Cretan Shore disappear'd, and

the Coast of Peloponesus seem'd to advance into the Sea to meet us half way: But on the sudden a black Storm over-cast the Sky, and pro∣vok'd the boisterousness of the Waves; the Day was turn'd into Night, and ghastly Death hover'd over us. Oh, Neptune, 'tis you, who with your proud Trident, stirr'd up the Rage of the watry Deep! Venus, to be reveng'd upon us, for despising her, even in her Temple of Cythera, went to that God, and spoke to him full of Grief, and with Eyes dissolved in Tears; at least, 'tis what Mentor, who is acquainted with Celestial Things, has assur'd me. Oh! Nep∣tune, said she, will you suffer those impious Men to defie my Power unpunish'd? The God themselves are sensible of it, and these rash Mortals have dared to condemn all they have seen in my Island; they pretend to a Wisdom which is proof against all Passions, and look upon Love as a Fit of Madness: Have

you forgot that I was born in your Dominions? Why do you delay any farther to swallow up in the deep Abyss of your Kingdom those two Men whom I abhor? She had scarce done speaking, when Neptune made his boisterous Waves rise up to the very Skies, and Venus smil'd, believing our Wreck inevitable. Our Pilot being now beside himself, cry'd out, That he could no longer oppose the violence of the Winds, which fiercely drove us upon some Rocks; a Gust of Wind broke our Main-Mast, and a moment after we heard the bottom of our Ship splitting against the pointed Rocks. The Water comes in at several Pla∣ces; the Ship sinks; all the Crew of Rowers fill the tempestuous Air∣with lamentable Cries. I embrac'd Mentor, and told him, Death is come at last, we must embrace it with Courage; the Gods have de∣liver'd us from so many Dangers only to destroy us this day: Let's

die, Oh! Mentor, let's die; 'tis a comfort to me that I die with you; 'twere in vain to contend for our Lives against the Storm. To this Mentor answer'd, True Courage finds always some Remedy or other; it is not enough to expect Death calmly and unconcern'd, unless, without being affraid of it, we use all our Endeavours to avoid it. Let You and I take one of the Rower's Seats, whilest that Multitude of fearful and troubled Men regret the loss of their Lives, without using Means to prevent it; let's not lose one moment to save our selves. Thereupon he took a Hatchet, and cut off the broken Mast, which, leaning into the Sea, made the Ship heel a-port: The Mast being thus sever'd from its Stump, he shov'd it out of the Ship, and leap'd up∣on it amidst the furious Waves. Then he call'd me by my Name, and encourag'd me to follow him. And now, as a great Tree, which

all the confederate Winds attack in vain, and which remains unmov'd, and fix'd to its deep Roots; so Men∣tor, not only resolute and couragi∣ous, but also calm and undisturb'd, seem'd to command the Winds and the Sea. I follow'd him: For who would not have follow'd, being en∣courag'd by Mentor? And now we are a-drift upon the Mast, which we steer sometimes one way, some∣times another: This Mast prov'd a great help to us, for we sate a-stride upon it; whereas had we been forc'd to swim all the while, our strength had soon fail'd us. But the Storm did often over-set that great Tree; so that being sunk into the Sea, we swallow'd great Draughts of the briny Flood, which run af∣terwards out of our Mouths, Ears, and Noses; and we were fain to contend with the Waves to get up∣permost again. Sometimes also we were over-whelm'd by a Billow as big as a Mountain, and then we

kept fast to the Mast, for fear that violent Push should make us lose our Hold of that, which was all our Hopes. Whilest we were in that dreadful Condition, Mentor, as calm and unconcern'd as he is now upon this green Turf, told me; Do you think, Oh! Telemachus, that your Life is abandon'd to the Winds and the Waves? Do you believe they can destroy you unless the Gods have order'd it? No, no, the Gods over-rule and decree all Things, and therefore 'tis the Gods and not the Sea you ought to fear; were you in the deep bottom of the Sea, great Joue's Hand were able to deliver you out of it; and were you on the Top of Olympus, having the Stars under your Feet, he might sink you to the deep Abyss, or cast you down into the Flames of black Tartarus. I listened to, and admir'd his wise Speech, which gave me a little com∣fort, but my Mind was not calm enough to answer him. We past a

whole Night without seeing one another, trembling and half dead with Cold, not knowing whether the Storm would drive us. At length the Winds began to be paci∣fied, and the roaring Sea was like one who having been a long time in a great Passion, has almost spent his Spirits, and feals only a ruffling Motion which draws toward a Calm; thus the Sea grown weary, as it were, of its own Fury, made but a hollow rumbling Noise, and its Waves were little higher than the Ridges of Land betwixt two Fur∣rows in a plough'd Field. In the mean time bright Aurora with her dewy Wings came to open the Gates of the Sky to introduce the radiant Sun, and seem'd to promise a fair Day. All the East was streak'd with fiery Beams; and the Stars which had so long been hid begun to twinkle again, but withdrew as soon as Phoebus appear'd on the lighten'd Horizon. We descry'd

Land afar off, and the Wind help'd us on towards it. I felt Hopes reviving in my Heart; but we saw none of our Companions. 'Tis probable their Courage fail'd them, and that they sunk with the Ship. Being come pretty near the Shore, the Sea drove us against sharp∣pointed Rocks, which were like to have bruis'd us to pieces; but we endeavour'd to oppose to them the end of our Mast, which Mentor us'd to as much advantage as a wise Steers-man does the best Rudder: Thus we escap'd those dreadful Rocks, and found at last a clear and easie Coast, where we swam with∣out any hindrance, and came at last to a sandy Shore; there you saw us, Oh! great Goddess, who Reignest in this Island; there you vouchsafed to receive and comfort us.

Telemachus having ended his Speech, all those Nymphs, whose deep Attention had kept them mo∣tionless, with Eyes fix'd upon him,

began to look upon one another, and enquire among themselves who those two Men were, of whom the Gods took so much care. Who did ever hear, said they, such wonder∣ful Adventures? The Son of Vlysses does already surpass his Father both in Eloquence, Wisdom Valour. What a Look! What a Beauty! What Gentleness! What Modesty! But withal, What Nobleness and Majesty! If we did not know him to be the Son of a Mortal, he might easily pass either for Bacchus, Mer∣cury, or even the great Apollo. But who is this Mentor, who looks like a plain obscure Man, of mean Ex∣traction? When one views him closely, there appears in him some∣thing above a Man.

Calypso listened to the Discourse with a Concern which she could not well conceal; her Eyes still wan∣dered from Mentor to Telemachus, and from Telemachus to Mentor. Sometimes she would have Telema∣chus

begin again that long Story of his Adventures; then, on the sudden, she contradicted her self; and, at last rising abruptly from her Seat, she carried Telemachus alone into a Wood of Myrtles, where she us'd all her Arts to know from him if Mentor was Deity under the Disguise of a Humane Shape. Telemachus could not satisfie her; for Minerva, who accompanied him under the Shape of Mentor, had not discover'd her self to him, because of his youth; she did not yet trust his Secrecy so far as to make him the Confident of her Designs. Besides, she had a mind to try him in the greatest Dangers; and had he known that Minerva was his Companion, such a Support had been able to make him despise the fiercest and most dreadful Accidents without any con∣cern. Therefore he mistook all a∣long Minerva for Mentor; and all the artful Insinuations of Calypso could not discover what she desir'd

to know. In the mean time, all the Nymphs crowding about Men∣tor, took great delight in asking him Questions; One of them ask'd him the Particulars of his Travels into AEthiopia; another desir'd to be ac∣quainted with what he had seen at Damascus; and a third ask'd him, whether he had known Ulysses be∣fore the Siege of Troy? He answer'd every one with gentleness and civi∣lity; and tho' his Words were plain, yet they were not without their Graces. 'Twas not long before Ca∣lipso return'd and interrupted their Conversation; and whilest her Nymphs begun to sing and gather Flowers to amuse Telemachus, she took Mentor aside in order to make him speak and discover who he was. As the soft Vapours of Sleep do in∣sensibly glide into the heavy Eyes, and wearied Limbs of a Man quite spent with Fatigue, with the same gentleness the flattering Words of the Goddess insinuated themselves

in order to bewitch the Heart of Mentor; but she always found some∣thing which baffled her Charms, and disappointed her Endeavours. Just as a steep Rock, which hides its proud Top among the Clouds, and despises the Rage of the insulting Winds; thus Mentor unmoveable in his wise Resolutions, suffer'd him∣self to be attack'd by the inquisitive Calipso; nay, sometimes he gave her a Glympse of Hope that she might puzzle him with her Que∣stions, and discover the Truth through his dubious Answers. But when she thought her self most sure to satisfie her Curiosity, her Hopes vanish'd away; what she imagin'd to hold fast, gave her presently the slip, and a short Answer from Men∣tor renew'd her Uncertainty. Thus she spent whole days; now flatter∣ing Telemachus, and then endeavour∣ing to take him away from Mentor, whom she hop'd no more to ingage so far as to make him discover who

he was; she made use of her fairest Nymph to kindle the Fire of Love in young Telemachus's Heart, and a Deity more powerful than Calypso, came to her Assistance.

Venus still full of Resentment for the Contempt which Mentor and Telemachus exprest of the Worship which was paid her in the Island of Cyprus, was enrag'd to see that these two rash Mortals had escap'd the fury of the Winds and Sea in the late Storm; she complain'd bitterly to Jupiter; but the Father of the Gods, unwilling to let her know, that Minerva, in the Shape of Men∣tor, had preserv'd the Son of Ulysses, told Venus with a smile, That he gave her leave to revenge her self on those two Men. She therefore leaves the heavenly Mansions; neg∣lects the sweet Perfumes which are burnt on the Altars at Paphos, Cy∣thera and Idalia; flies in her Chariot drawn by Doves; calls her Son Cu∣pid, and with a Face full of sorrow,

but adorn'd with new Charms, she thus speaks to him; Doest thou not see, my Son, those two Men who contemn my Power and thine? Who for the future will worship us? Go and pierce with thy surest Arrows their insensible Hearts; come down with me into that Island, where I shall discourse with Calypso. She said; and cutting the yielding Air in a golden Cloud, pre∣sented her self to Calypso, who at that moment sat pensive and alone on the grassy Brink of a Fountain, remote from her Grotto.

Unhappy Goddess, said she to her, the ungrateful Ulysses has despis'd and abandon'd you; his Son still more cruel than his Father, designs to do the same: But Love himself is come to aid your Revenge; I leave him with you; he may remain among your Nymphs, as heretofore young Bacchus was bred among the Nymphs of the Isle of Naxos; Telemachus will look upon him as an ordinary Child;

and not mistrusting him, will soon feel his forcible Influence. She said; and being got up again into that golden Cloud from whence she was descended, she left behind her a sweet smell of Ambrosia, which per∣fum'd all the sacred Thickets around. Cupid remain'd in the Arms of Ca∣lipso, who, tho' a Goddess, began to feel a secret Flame glide into her Breast. To ease her self, she pre∣sently gave him to a Nymph who happen'd to come to her at that in∣stant, whose Name was Eucharis; but, alas! how often did she re∣pent it afterwards? At first, no∣thing appear'd more innocent, more gentle, more lovely, nor more grace∣ful than this Child; by his spright∣ly, flattering, and ever-smiling Looks, one would have thought he could bring nothing but Delight; but as soon as one began to trust his fond Caresses, they were found to be full of a dangerous Venom; that malicious, deceitful Boy never

flattered but with a design to be∣tray; and never smil'd but when he had done, or was ready to do mischief. He durst not come near Mentor, being frighted away by his Severity; besides, he was sensible that that unknown Man was invul∣nerable, and not to be pierced by his Arrows. As for the Nymphs, they soon felt the Flames that were kindled by this treacherous Boy, but they took great care to hide the deep Wounds which fester'd in their Breasts. In the mean time Telema∣chus, seeing that Boy playing with the Nymphs, he was surpriz'd with his Beauty and Gentleness; he em∣braces him; Sometimes he sets him on his Lap, and sometimes dandles him in his Arms; he feels within himself a secret uneasiness, whose cause he cannot discover; the more he indulges his innocent Play, the more he is troubled and softned with hidden desire. Do you see those Nymphs, said he to Mentor? How

different they are from those Wo∣men of the Isle of Cyprus, whose ve∣ry Beauty was shocking, because accompanied with Immodesty and Lewdness; but these immortal Beauties display a charming Mode∣sty and Innocence. At these Words he Blusht, but could not tell why: He could neither forbear Speaking of them, nor go on with his Dis∣course; his Words were broken, obscure, incoherent, and sometimes wild and foolish. Whereupon Mentor told him: Oh! Telemachus, the dangers you escap'd in the Isle of Cyprus were nothing if com∣par'd with those you are now ex∣pos'd to, and which you are not at all aware of; bare-fac'd Lewdness strikes us with Horror, and brutish Impudence raises our Indignation, but a modest Beauty is most dange∣rous and surprizing; when we be∣gin to love her, we fancy we are in Love with Virtue, and by insensible Degrees we yield to the deceitful

Allurements of a Passion, which we can scarce perceive before it is too fierce to be extinguish'd; Fly, my dear Telemachus, fly from those Nymphs who are so modest and discreet only to decoy you into their Snares; fly from the Dangers your Youth exposes you to; but above all, fly from that Boy whom you do not know: He is Cupid, whom her Mo∣ther Venus has brought into this Island to revenge your Contempt of those Rites which are perform'd in her Honour in the Isle of Cythera; he has wounded the Heart of Ca∣lipso, and made her passionately in Love with you; he had fir'd all those Nymphs that are now about him; and even Telemachus himself: Oh! wretched young Man, you burn without feeling your secret Flame. Telemachus often interrupt∣ed the Discourse of Mentor, and told him; but why shall we not stay in this Island? Ulysses is certainly dead, and has been a long time Bu∣ried

in the Waves; and Penelope seeing that neither he nor I return home, will never be able to resist so many Lovers; and without doubt her Father Icarus has by this time oblig'd her to Marry a new Hus∣band. Shall I return to Ithaca to see her ingaged with another, con∣trary to the solemn Faith she had given to my Father? The Ithacians have quite forgot Ulysses, and we cannot return thither without run∣ning upon certain Death, since Pe∣nelope's Lovers are already possess'd of all the Avenues to the Port, the better to make our Destruction sure at our return. Mentor reply'd: Your Discourse is the result of a blind Passion, we are wonderfully indu∣strious in finding all the Reasons which seem to favour it, and with no less care we avoid the sight of those which condemn it; we em∣ploy all our Wit in deceiving our selves, and stifling those Remorses which give a check to our Desires.

Have you forgot what the Gods have done for you in order to bring you back into your own Country? Which way did you come out of Sicily? Those Misfortunes which befel you in Egypt, did they not turn on a sudden to your Prosperi∣ty? What unknown Hand dispell'd all those impending Dangers which threatned your Head at the City of Tyre? After so many wonderful Deli∣verances can you be doubtful of what the Gods have in store for you? But no, you suppose your self unworthy of their Favours. For my own part I go out of this Island: But you, oh degenerate Son of so wise and noble a Father, you may lead here a soft, inglorious Life amongst Wo∣men; and in spite of Heaven do what your Father thought unwor∣thy of him. These reflecting Ex∣pressions touch'd Telemachus to the very quick; He felt his Heart re∣lenting at Mentor's Words; His Griefs was attended with Shame;

He fear'd both the departure and indignation of so wise a Person, as one to whom he was so very much oblig'd; but a new-born Passion, with which he was but little ac∣quainted, made him quite another Man. What, said he to Mentor, with Tears in his Eyes, Do you reckon for nothing that immortal Life which the Goddess offers me? No: answered Mentor, I make no account of any thing that is incon∣sistent with Virtue, and against the supreme Decrees of Heaven, Vir∣tue calls you back into your own Country, that you may see and comfort Ulysses and Penelope; Vir∣tue bids you not to abandon your self to an extravagant Passion: The Gods, who deliver'd you from so many Dangers, in order to make your Glory shine as bright as your Father's, the Gods, I say, com∣mand you to quit this Island. Love alone, that base Tyrant Love, is able to detain you here. Yet,

what will you do with an immor∣tal Life, bereft of Liberty, Virtue and Honour? Your sort of Life would still be the more wretched, in that it were endless. Telemachus answer'd him only with Sighs: Sometimes he wish'd that Mentor had forc'd him away from Calipso; and sometimes he wish'd that his Departure had rid him of a trouble∣some rigid Friend, who ever re∣proach'd him with his Weakness. His Heart was continually in sus∣pense betwixt various Thoughts, just as the Sea is toss'd by contrary Winds, that sport with its incon∣stant Waves. He often lay motion∣less on the Sea∣shore; sometimes in a lonely and gloomy Covert of a Wood he shed a Flood of bitter Tears, and cry'd like a roaring Li∣on. He was grown Lean; his hollow Eyes were full of a devour∣ing Fire; and by his pale downcast Looks, and disfigured Face, one could never have thought he had

been Telemachus; his Beauty, his graceful Sprightliness, and his noble Aspect were fled from him; he was like a Flower which blows in the Morning, casts forth its fragancy around all the Day, but fades insen∣sibly towards Night; its fine Colours decay, its Leaves wither, and its fine Top droops, and bears down the feeble Stalk. Thus the Son of Ulysses was brought to a languishing and dying Condition.

Mentor perceiving that Telemachus was not able to resist the violence of his Passion, he thought on a Stra∣tagem to deliver him from so great a Danger. He took notice that Calipso was desperately in Love with Telemachus, and that Telema∣chus was no lest taken with the Charms of the young Nymph Eu∣charis; for cruel Cupid, the better to torment Mortals, makes them seldom love the Person by whom they are belov'd. Now upon a Day when Telemachus was to go out

a Hunting with Eucharis, Mentor, in order to raise Calipso's Jealousy, told her; I find in Telemachus an eager Love for Hunting, which I never perceiv'd in him before; this Recreation makes him slight all other Pleasures; he only delights in Forests and wild Mountains: Is it you, Oh great Goddess! who have inspir'd him with this Passion? Ca∣lipso was touch'd to the quick with these Words, and was not able to contain her Resentments. That Telemachus, answer'd she, who de∣spis'd all the Pleasures of the Isle of Cyprus, cannot resist the faint Charms of one of my Nymphs. How dares one to boast of so many won∣derful Actions, whose Heart is so easily soften'd by shameful, effemi∣nate Pleasures, and who seems to be Born only to lead an obscure in∣glorious Life among Women? Men∣tor was not a little pleas'd to find that Jealousy began to work in Ca∣lipso's Heart, but said no more at

that time, for fear she should di∣strust him; only he express'd his concern by his sad and downcast Looks. The Goddess complained to him about all she saw, and re∣new'd her Complaints every Day: This Hunting-match, of which Mentor gave her notice, began to raise her Fury; she was told that Telemachus had no other Design in his Sports than to withdraw from the other Nymphs, in order to en∣tertain Eucharis alone; there was also a Talk of a second Hunting∣match, wherein she foresaw he would do, what he had done in the first. But to break Telemachus's Measures, she declar'd that she de∣sign'd to make one amongst them; and then on the sudden being no more able to contain her Passion, she spoke to him in these Words: Is it thus, Oh young rash Mortal! that thou art come into my Island to escape the just Wreck which Neptune prepar'd for thee, and the

Vengeance of those Gods thou hast offended? Didst thou come into this Island, which no Mortal ever dares to approach, only to despise my Power, and the Love I have exprest for thee? Oh! all ye pow∣erful Deities of Heaven and Hell, hear the Complaints of an unfor∣tunate Goddess: Hast to confound and destroy this perfidious, ungrate∣ful and impious Man. Since thou art still more cruel and unjust than thy. Father, may thy Sufferings be likewise more cruel and unpitied than his; mayst thou never see thy Country again, that poor and wretched Ithaca, which thou didst basely prefer before an immortal Life; or rather mayst thou be de∣stroy'd in sight of it, in the middle of the Sea; may thy Body become the Sport of the Waves, and be cast on this Sandy-shore without any hopes of Burial; may my Eyes see it devoured by ravenous Vultures; may she whom you Love see it al∣so;

yes, she shall see it, that Sight will break her Heart, and her De∣spair shall be my Bliss and Delight.

Whilest Calipso was thus speaking her Eyes glow'd and sparked with Fire; her wild, distracted Looks were ever unsteady; her trembling Cheeks were full of black and blew Spots; her Colour chang'd every moment; her Face was often o're spread with a deadly Paleness; her Tears did not flow so plentifully as before, their Spring being in a great measure dry'd up by Rage and De∣spair; her Voice was hoarse, trem∣bling and broken. Mentor observ'd the different Motions of her Passion, and spoke no more to Telemachus; he us'd him as we do a Man despe∣rate ill, and abandon'd by the Phy∣sicians, and often look'd upon him with Eyes of Pity. Telemachus was sensible how guilty he was, and un∣worthy of Mentor's Friendship; he durst not look up for fear he should meet the Eyes of Mentor, whose ve∣ry

Silence condemn'd him: Some∣times he had a mind to embrace him, and confess to him how deep∣ly he was sensible of his Fault, but he was hinder'd as well by a mista∣ken shame, as by a fear of doing more than he intended, to avoid a Dan∣ger which seem'd so pleasing to him; for he could not yet be prevail'd upon by Reason to conquer his fond and belov'd Passion. The Gods and Goddesses of bright Olympus were now met together, and with pro∣found silence kept their Eyes fix'd on the Island of Calipso, impatient to know whether Minerva or Cupid should remain Victorious. The God of Love by his sporting and playing with the Nymphs had set all the Island on Fire; and Minerva, un∣der the shape of Mentor, employ'd Jealousie, the inseparable Compa∣nion of Love, against Love himself. Jupiter was resolv'd to be only a Spectator of this Contest, and to stand Neuter betwixt the Comba∣tants.

In the mean time Eucharis, who was affraid to lose Telemachus, us'd a thousand Arts to keep him in her Chains: And now she was just ready to go out a second time a Hunting with him; her Dress was exactly like that of Diana; Venus and Cupid had supply'd her with new Charms, insomuch that her Beauty eclips'd then even that of Calypso her self. Calypso seeing her afar off, view'd her self in one of her Chrystal Fountains, and being asham'd of her own Face, she run to hide her self into the remotest Part of her Grotto, and spoke thus to her self. Then 'tis in vain, I have endeavour'd to disturb the Joys of these two Lovers, by declaring that I design'd to be one of the Hunters. Shall I go with them? Shall I be the occasion of her Triumph, and shall my Beauty serve only to heighten hers? Shall Telemachus at the sight of my Charms be still more transported with those of Eucharis?

Oh! wretched me! What have I done? No, I'll not go: Neither shall they themselves go; I know well enough how to prevent them. I'll go to Mentor; I'll desire him to carry away Telemachus from this Island, and convey him to Ithaca: But, What do I say? And what must become of forlorn me when Telemachus is gone? Where am I? Oh! cruel Venus, what shall I do? Oh! Venus, you have deceiv'd me; what a treacherous Present you gave me! Pernicious Child! Poi∣soning Love! I gave the free en∣trance into my Heart, with Hopes to live happy with Telemachus, and thou hast brought nothing into my Heart but Trouble and Despair. My Nymphs have rebell'd against me, and my being a Goddess serves only to make my Miseries eternal. Oh! that I could destroy my self to end my Sorrows! But if I cannot, yet, Oh! Telemachus, thou shalt die; I'll revenge thy Ingratitude;

I will strike thy perfidious Heart, and make thy Nymph the Witness of my just Resentment. — But, Whither does my raving Passion hurry me! unfortunate Calipso, why would'st thou destroy a guilt∣less Youth, whom thou hast thy self plung'd into an Abyss of Misfor∣tunes! I my self have convey'd the fatal Brand into the chaste Bosom of telemachus: How innocent he was before! how Virtuous, how much averse to shameful Pleasures! What made me intoxicate his Heart? — He would have abandon'd me. — Well! shall he not either leave me now, or only live to torture me and and make my Rival blest? No, no: My Punishment is just. Go, dear Telemachus, go, cross the Seas: Leave Calipso, whose Life is a Bur∣then to her, and who cannot meet Death to ease her Torments; leave her disconsolate, cover'd with shame and full of despair with the proud Eucharis.

Thus she spoke to her self in her Grotto; but rushing out on the sud∣den, transported with impetuous Fury: Oh! Mentor, said she, is it thus you support Telemachus against the Affaults of Vice, to which he is just ready to yield? You sleep whilest Love is full awake to undo him. I cannot bear any longer with that shameful Indifference you shew; How can you calmly see the Son of Ulysses disgrace his Father, and neg∣lect the great Things to which he is destin'd? Is it you or me, whom his Parents have entrusted with his Conduct? I endeavour to find Re∣medies to cure his distemper'd Heart, and shall you stand idle and uncon∣cern'd? There are in the remotest Part of this Forest tall Poplars, fit for the Building of a Ship; there it is that Ulysses built his before he left this Island: You will find in the same Place deep Cave, where∣in are all manner of Instruments ne∣cessary to cut out, and join together

all the different Parts of a Ship.

She had scarce done speaking, when she begun to wish it were in her power to re-call her Words. Mentor did not lose one moment of time; he went down into that Cave, found the Instruments, fell'd the Po∣plars, and in one day equip'd and fitted up a Ship for Sea; for Miner∣va's Power and Industry require but very little time to bring the greatest Works to Perfection. Ca∣lypso, in the mean time was tor∣tur'd by a cruel anxiety of Thoughts; she had a mind to see whether Men∣tor's Work went forward, but could not find in her Heart to leave the Hunting-match, where Eucharis would have enjoy'd the Company of Telemachus in full Liberty. Her Jealousie never suffer'd her to lose sight of those two Lovers; but at the same time, she endeavour'd to lead the Hunters toward that Place where she knew Mentor was Build∣ing the Ship; she heard the strokes

of the Hatchets, and the Hammers; and every blow she heard, made her quake and tremble; yet at the same moment, she fear'd her lest minding Mentor should make her lose the sight either of a Sign, a Look, or a Wink from Telemachus to the young Nymph. In the mean time Eucha∣ris said to Telemachus, as it were in jest; Are not you affraid of being reprov'd by Mentor for going out a Hunting without him? Oh! how much you are to be pitied for li∣ving under so rigorous a Master, whose severe Authority nothing can mitigate. He professes himself an Enemy to all manner of Pleasures, and will not suffer you to enjoy any; he condemns as a Crime, the most innocent Actions; you might in∣deed have suffer'd your self to be govern'd by him, when you was not able to govern your self; but after you have shew'd so much Wisdom, why should you be us'd like a Child? These cunning, insinuating Words went deep into Telemachus's Heart,

and fill'd it with spite and hatred against Mentor, whose Yoke he was willing to shake off; he fear'd to see him again, and was so perplex'd that he return'd Eucharis no An∣swer. Whilest they were a Hunt∣ing, every Body was in a continued hurry; but at last, towards the Evening they return'd home thro' that Part of the Forest near which Mentor had been working all day. Calypso saw afar off the Ship ready built, and at that sight her Eyes were over-spread with a thick Cloud, like that of gloomy Death. Her trembling Knees betray'd her sink∣ing Body; a cold Sweat over-ran all her Limbs; she let her self fall on those Nymphs that stood about her, and as Eucharis reach'd her Hand to support her, she put it back with a dreadful Frown. Telemachus, who saw that Ship, but did not see Men∣tor, who was already gone home, having just finish'd his Work, ask'd the Goddess whose that Ship was,

and what she was design'd for? She knew not at first what Answer to make, but a while after she said; I caus'd her to be built to send away Mentor; you'll not be troubled any longer by that severe Friend who thwarts your Happiness, and would grow jealous of you, if you should become immortal. Mentor forsake me! I am undone! cry'd Telemachus, Oh! Eucharis, if Mentor abandons me, I have no Friend left but you. Having let these Words fall in the Transports of his Passion, he saw presently how much his Rashness was to blame, but he was not at liber∣ty enough to think on their meaning at first. All the Company was silent and full of surprize: Eucharis blush'd, and cast her Eyes down; she staid behind the rest Speechless, not dar∣ing to shew her self: Yet whilest her Face was full of Trouble and Confusion, she felt a secret Joy in her Heart. As for Telemachus, he could not apprehend himself, nor

think he had spoke so indiscreetly; what he had done seem'd to him as a Dream, but such a Dream as fill'd him with perplexing and disquiet∣ing Thoughts. Calypso, more fierce and wild than a Lyoness that had her Whelps taken from her, run up and down the Forest, without knowing whither she was going. At last she found her self at the En∣trance of her Grotto, where Mentor expected her: Go out of my Island, said she, you Strangers, who came hither to trouble my Repose: A way, with that young Fool; as for you, imprudent old Man, you shall feel the Power of an enraged Goddess, unless you carry him away this very moment. I will neither see him, nor suffer that any of my Nymphs should speak to him, nor so much as look upon him; I swear by the Stygian Lake; an Oath which makes the Gods themselves tremble: But know, Oh! Telemachus, that thy Misfor∣tunes are not at an end: No, un∣grateful

Wretch, if I turn thee out of my Island, 'tis only that thou may'st become a Prey to new Disa∣sters; then I shall be reveng'd; thou shalt wish again for Calypso, but all in vain; Neptune, still angry at thy Father, who offended him at Sicily, and sollicited by Venus, whom thou didst despise in the Isle of Cyprus, prepares new Storms for thee; thou shalt see thy Father, who is still alive; but tho' thou seest him, yet thou shalt neither know him, nor be known to him. Thou shalt not meet him at Ithaca, before thou hast been the Sport of cruel Fortune; Depart — may all the Celestial Powers re∣venge me; may'st thou in the middle of the raging Sea, hang Thunder∣struck, on the sharp Top of a Rock, invoking in vain Calypso, whom thy just Punishment will fill with Joy.

Having spoke these Words, her troubled and perplexed Mind was ready to re call what she had said, and put her upon Resolutions quite

opposite to the former; Love re∣viv'd in her Heart the fond desire of staying Telemachus: Let him live, said she, to her self, let him stay here; perhaps, he may at last be sensible how much I have done for him; Eucharis cannot bestow Im∣mortality upon him, as I can. Oh! too, too rash Calipso, thou hast be∣tray'd thy self by thy rash Oath; thou art now engag'd, and the Sty∣gian Waves by which thou hast sworn, leave thee no manner of hope. These words were heard by no Bo∣dy; but one might see the Picture of a Fury in her ghastly Face, and all the pestilential Venom of black Cocythus seem'd to reek out of her Heart. Telemachus was seiz'd with Horror: She perceiv'd it; for what can be hid from a jealous Lover? And the Trouble of Telemachus re∣doubled the Transports of the God∣dess. Like a furious Bacchanal who fills the Air with frightful Roarings, and makes the Thracian Mountains

resound with her Shrieks: Thus Ca∣lypso roves about the Woods with a Dart in her Hand, calling all her Nymphs, and threatning to strike any one that shall refuse to follow her; frightned by her Threats, they all crowd after her with speed; even Eucharis advances with Tears in her Eyes, keeping her Looks fix'd at a distance upon Telemachus, but not daring to speak to him any more. The Goddess shiver'd when she saw her, and her Fury redoubled when she perceiv'd that even Grief and Affiction serv'd to heighten the Beauty of her Rival.

In the mean time, Telemachus be∣ing alone with Mentor, he grasps his Knees, not daring either to embrace him, or look upon him; he sheds a Flood of Tears; he is going to speak, but his Speech fails him; he knows not either what he does, what he ought to do, or what he would do. At last, he cries out; Oh! my true Father! Oh! Mento,

deliver me from my Miseries! I cannot leave you, neither can I fol∣low you; Oh! rid me of my Trou∣bles, rid me of my self; strike, strike me dead.

Mentor embraces him, comforts him, encourages him, teaches him how to bear with himself, without indulging his fond Passion, and tells him; Oh! Son of the wise Ulysses, whom the Gods have lov'd so much, and whom they love still; 'tis out of that love they have for you, that they expose you to those Miseries which you now undergo; whoever is unacquainted with his own weak∣ness, and the violence of his Passions, cannot be call'd wise; for he is still a stranger to himself, and cannot stand upon his Guard against him∣self. The Gods have conducted you, as it were by the hand, to the very brink of a Precipice, to let you see the immense depth of it, with∣out suffering you to fall into it; therefore conceive now what you

could never have comprehended un∣less you had experienced it your self. You have been told of the Treache∣ries of Love, who flatters in order to destroy; and who, under an out∣ward sweetness, conceals the most cruel and unpleasant bitterness; that charming, pernicious Boy is come hither, attended by charming Smiles, and Graces; you have seen him; he has robb'd you of your Heart, and you your self was pleas'd with his Robbery. You labour'd to find Pretences to conceal to your self the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Wound of your Heart; you endeavour'd to deceive me and your self; you was affraid of no∣thing; see now what your Rashness is come to; you call upon Death as the only Remedy to your Ills; the troubled Goddess is like one of the Furies of Hell; Eucharis is con∣sumed by a Fire a thousand times more cruel than all the racking Pangs of Death; all those jealous Nymphs are ready to tear one another to

Pieces; and this is the work that Cupid makes, for all he appears so gentle and innocent. Summon all your Courage to your Assistance; consider how much you are belov'd by the Gods, since they furnish you with so fair an opportunity to avoid Love, and to return to your dear native Country; Calipso her self is forc'd to send you away; the Ship is ready; why should we stay any longer in an Island where Virtue cannot be safe? As he spoke these last Words, Mentor took him by the Hand, and pull'd him along to∣ward the Sea-Shore. Telemachus fol∣low'd him unwillingly, still look∣ing behind him, and keeping his Eyes six'd upon Eucharis, who went away from him; and tho' he could not see her Face, yet he view'd with admiration her fine Hair tied behind with a Crimson Ribband, her loose Garments playing with the Wind, and her noble, portly Gate; he'd fain have kiss'd the very Ground

on which she went; and even when he began to lose sight of her, he still listened, thinking that he heard her Voice; altho' absent, her living Picture was present to his Eyes; he fancied he spoke to her, and was in such a perplexity and concern, that he did not mind what Mentor said to him. At last, when he begun to recover, as if wak'd out of a profound Sleep, he said to Mentor, I am resolv'd to follow you, but I have not yet taken my leave of Eucharis: I had rather die than thus ungratefully to forsake her; stay, I beseech you, till I have seen her once more, and bidden her an eternal Farewel; at least suffer me to tell her; Oh! Nymph! the cruel Gods, the Gods jealous of my Hap∣piness, force me away from you; but they may sooner put a Period to my Life, than ever blot you out of my Memory. Oh! Father! either grant me this last and just Consola∣tion, or kill me now with excess of

Grief. However, think not I will either stay in this Island, or aban∣don my self to Love; I have no such Passion in my Breast; I only feel the Effects of Friendship and Gratitude for Eucharis; I only de∣sire to give her Proofs of it once again, and after that I'll follow you without delay.

How much I pity you! answer'd Mentor; your Passion is so very fierce and violent, that you are not sensible of it; you think you are calm and compos'd, and yet you call upon Death; you boast that you are not conquer'd by Cupid, when you cannot leave the Nymph you love; you see, and hear nothing but her, and are blind and deaf to all the rest. You are like a Man who being light-headed, through a vio∣lent fever, cries he is not sick: Oh! blind Telemachus, you are ready to renounce your Mother Penelope, who expects you; Ulysses whom you shall see; Ithaca, where you

shall be King; and finally, those great Honours, and that high For∣tune, which the Gods have pro∣mis'd you by those many Wonders they have done in your Favour; you renounce all those Advantages to lead an inglorious Life with Eu∣charis. Will you still pretend that 'tis not Love that makes you con∣cern'd to leave her? What makes you be willing to die? Why did you speak with so much Transport before the Goddess? I do not charge you with dishonest Love, but I la∣ment your Blindness: Fly, Oh! Te∣lemachus, fly; for Love is a Foe not to be conquer'd but by Flight; true Courage consists in flying without any deliberation, or so much as looking behind one, tho' at the same time 'tis with fear and reluctancy that one flies. You have not for∣got what care I have taken of you since your Infancy, and what Dan∣gers you have escap'd by my wise Counsels; either be rul'd by me,

or suffer me to leave you; Oh! if you knew how much I grieve to see you run on your own Ruin, and how much I have suffer'd during the time. I dare not mention to you, the Pains which your Mother felt when she brought you forth, which are not to be compar'd with mine. I held my Tongue; I fed upon my own Grief, and stifled my Sighs only to give you time to come to your self again, and acknowledge your Error. My Son, my dear Son, ease my opprest Heart; re∣store to me what I hold dearer than my own Life, restore to me my lost Telemachus; restore your self to your self. If your Wisdom can sur∣mount your Love, I shall still live happy; but if Love hurries you away from Wisdom, Mentor can no longer live. Whilst Mentor was thus speaking, they went on their way towards the Sea; and Telema∣chus, who was not yet confirm'd enough in his new Resolution to

follow him of himself, was yet wil∣ling to suffer himself to be led away without Resistance. Minerva, who kept still the Shape of Mentor, co∣vering Telemachus with her invisible Shield, and surrounding him with Beams of Divine Light, made him feel a resolute Courage, of which he had not been sensible, since his be∣ing in that Island. At last they ar∣riv'd at a very steep Rock, on the Sea-Shore, which was continually insulted by the foaming Tide; they look'd from thence whether the Ship, Mentor had built, was still in the same Place, but perceiv'd a ve∣ry sad Spectacle.

Cupid was nettled to the quick, not only by the unknown old Man's insensibility, but also by his rob∣bing him of Telemachus; his Rage drew Tears from him, and made him run to Calipso, who wandred up and down the shady Woods; she fetch'd a deep Sigh as soon as she saw him, and felt all her Wounds

bleeding afresh. Cupid told her; You are a Goddess, and yet you suf∣fer your self to be conquer'd by a feeble Mortal, who is a Prisoner in your Island! Why do you let him go? Oh! unlucky Boy, answer'd she, I will hear no more of thy pernicious Counsels; 'tis thou hast broke my soft and profound Tran∣quility, and cast me into an endless Abyss of Misery: 'Tis now past re∣call; since I swore by the Stygian Flood to let Telemachus go. Jove himself, almighty Jove, the Father of the Gods, dares not to break that dreadful Oath: But as Telemachus goes out of this Island, go thou a∣way too; for thou hast done me more mischief than he. Cupid hav∣ing wip'd off his Tears, with a ma∣licious Smile, told her; Truly, this is a mighty Business to be puzzled at! Leave all to my Management; keep your Oath, and do not oppose Telemachus's Departure: Neither your Nymphs nor I have sworn by

the Stygian Flood to let him go; I will inspire them with the Design of setting that Ship on fire, which Mentor has built in so much hast; his Diligence which fill'd us with wonder, will be altogether vain; he shall have reason to wonder himself in his turn, and shall have no means left to draw Telemachus from you.

This flattering Speech convey'd pleasing Hopes and Joys into the very bottom of Calipso's Heart, and allay'd the wild Fury and Despair of the Goddess, just as a cooling Breeze, which blows on the grassy Margent of a purling Stream, re∣freshes a Flock of Sheep, which was scorch'd by excessive Heat. Her Aspect became clear and serene; the fierceness of her Eyes was softned; those black Thoughts, and carking Cares, which prey'd upon her Heart, fled from her for a moment; she stop'd her wandring Course; she smil'd; she caress'd wanton Cu∣pid,

and by her Fondness prepar'd new Torments for her self. Cupid highly pleas'd with having persuad∣ed Calipso, flew instantly in order to persuade the Nymphs who were wandring and dispers'd up and down the Mountains, like a Flock of Sheep, which the hungry, ravenous Wolves have frighted away from their Shepherd. Cupid gathers them together, and tells them; Telemachus is still in your Hands; haste, and let devouring Flames consume the Ship which the rash Mentor has built to favour his Escape. There∣upon they take lighted Torches in their Hands, run to the Sea∣Shore, fill the Air with dreadful Roarings, and toss about their dishevell'd Hair like the furious Priestesses of Bac∣chus: And now the greedy Flames devour the Ship, which burns the more fiercely as she is made of dry Wood, daub'd over with Rosin; and a Cloud of Smoak, streak'd with Flames, rises up to the very

Skies. Telemachus and Mentor be∣hold this Conflagration from the Top of the Rock; and as Telema∣chus heard the Shoutings of the Nymphs, he was almost tempted to rejoyce at it; for his wounded Heart was not yet well cur'd, and Mentor perceiv'd that his Passion was like a Fire not quite extin∣guish'd, which now and then breaks through the Ashes that cover'd it, and cast forth bright Sparks of Fire. Now, said Telemachus, must I re∣turn to my former Engagements, since we have no Hopes left to quit this Island. By that, Mentor under∣stood that Telemachus was going to relapse into his Follies, and that he had not one moment to lose: He espy'd afar off in the main Sea, a Ship that stood still, not daring to approach the Shore, for all Pilots knew that the Isle of Calipso was inaccessible to all Mortals. At that very instant the wise Mentor gave a push to Telemachus, who sate on the

the sharp end of the Rock, cast him down into the Sea, and threw himself down after him. Telema∣chus amaz'd and stunn'd by his vio∣lent Fall, drunk great Draughts of briny Water, and was for a while toss'd about by the Waves; but at last, coming to himself, and seeing Mentor, who reach'd him his Hand to help him to swim, he thought on nothing but flying from the fatal Island. The Nymphs who expect∣ed to have kept them Prisoners, cry'd and howl'd with great Fury, being enrag'd at the disappointment. The disconsolate Calipso return'd in∣to her Grotto, which she fill'd with hideous Roarings. Cupid, who saw his Triumph turn'd into a shameful Defeat, shook his Wings, and, through the yielding Air, flew to the sacred Grove of Idalia, where his cruel Mother expected him. The Son still more cruel than the Mother, comforted himself with smiling with her at all the Mischief

they had done. As Telemachus went farther off from the Island, he felt with secret Pleasure both his Cou∣rage, and his Love for Virtue, re∣viving in his Heart. I am sensible, cry'd he to Mentor, of what you told me, and which I could not believe for want of Experience: There's no other way to conquer Vice, but by flying from it. Oh! Fa∣ther! How kind the Gods were to me, when they gave me your Assi∣stance, though by my Folly I de∣serv'd to be depriv'd of it, and be left alone to my self. I fear now, neither the Sea, the Winds, nor the Storm; I only am affraid of my own Passions; but of all Passions, Love is more dangerous than a thou∣sand Wrecks.

The Ship that stood still, to∣wards which they swam, was a Phenician Bottom bound to Epirus. Those Phenicians who were Aboard her had seen Telemachus in his Voy∣age to AEgypt, but could not know

him amidst the Waves. As soon as Mentor came within hearing, he lifted up his Head out of the Wa∣ter, and with a strong Voice cry'd to them; Oh! Phenicians! You who at all times are ready to give Assi∣stance to all other Nations, do not deny your Help to two Men who expect their Safety from your Hu∣manity; if you have any Respect for the Gods, receive us into your Ship; we will go along with you where-ever you go: The Comman∣der of the Ship answer'd, We will receive you with joy, for we are not ignorant how we ought to re∣lieve Strangers in your unfortunate Condition; and so they took them up into their Ship. They were scarce got into her, when their Breath was quite spent; for they had swam a long while, and strug∣gled with the fierce Waves. By de∣grees they recover'd their Spirits; they had other Cloaths given them, for theirs were soak'd through by

asfthe briny Water, which drop'd on every side. As soon as they were able to speak, all the Phenicians crowded about 'em, desiring to know their Adventures. Among the rest, the Commander told 'em; How could you enter the Island from which you now came? It is said to be posses'd by a cruel God∣dess, who never suffers any Mortal to land there; besides, it is incom∣pass'd by huge craggy Rocks, which are continually insulted by the wan∣ton Waves, and not to be ap∣proach'd without splitting against them. You say true, answer'd Men∣tor, for'twas by a Storm we were cast upon that Coast, and our Wreck gave us Entrance into the Island. We are Grecians; the Isle of Ithaca, which lies near Epirus, (whither you are bound) is our Country. If you are unwilling to touch at Ithaca, which is in your way, we are contented to be car∣ried into Epirus, where we have

Friends who will take care to fur∣nish us with all Necessaries for our short Passage from thence to Ithaca; and we will for ever be oblig'd to you for the blissful Sight of what we hold most dear in the World. All this while Telemachus was silent, and let Mentor speak; for those Faults he had committed in the Isle of Calipso, had made him much wiser; he distrusted his own self; he was sensible how much he want∣ed the prudent Counsels of Mentor; and when he could not speak to him to ask his Advice, he consulted his Eyes, and endeavour'd to guess at his Thoughts.

The Phenician Master of the Ship fixing his Eyes upon Telemachus, re∣membred he had seen him some where; but 'twas a confus'd Re∣membrance which he knew not how to clear: Give me leave, said he to Telemachus, to ask you whe∣ther you remember you saw me be∣fore, for methinks I am no Stran∣ger

to your Face, tho' I cannot tell where I have seen you; perhaps your Memory will help out mine. Telemachus answer'd him with joy and surprize. When I first look'd upon you, I was as much puzzled about your Face, as you are about mine; I'm sure I have seen you: I know you again, but cannot call to mind, whether in AEgypt or at Tyre. Thereupon the Phenician, like a Man who wakes in the Morn∣ing, and by degrees calls back the Dreams of the Night which begun to fly away, cry'd out on a sud∣den; You are Telemachus, for whom Narbal conceiv'd so great a Love, when we return'd from AEgypt; I am his Brother of whom he has undoubtedly spoken to you often, since I left you with him, after the Expedition into AEgypt. My Af∣fairs carried me to the last Extre∣mity of the Seas, into the famous Betica, near the Herculean Pillars; so that I did but just see you, and

'tis no wonder I was so puzzled to know you again at first sight.

I perceive, answer'd Telemachus, that you are Adoam: I had but a glimpse of you, but I know you by the Discourse I had with Narbal: Oh! how I am fill'd with Joy to hear News from a Man who shall ever be so very dear to me: Is he still in Tyre? Is he no more expos'd to the barbarous Treatment of the cruel Pygmalion? Adoam, interrupt∣ing him, said: Know, Oh Telema∣chus! that Fortune has entrusted you with one who will take all the Care imaginable of you; I will carry you to Ithaca, before I go to Epirus, and Narbal's Brother will love you no less than Narbal himself. Having thus spoken, he took notice that the Wind, for which he waited, began to blow; whereupon he gave Orders for weighing of the Anchors, and unfurling of the Sails; which done, the Rowers ply'd their Oars amain, and cut the yielding

Floods. After that he took Tele∣machus and Mentor to entertain them aside: I am going, said he, addres∣sing himself to Telemachus, to satis∣fie your Curiosity; Pigmalion is no more, the just Gods have rid Man∣kind of him; as he trusted no Man, no Man would trust him neither; The Good were contented to groan in silence, and fly his Cruelties, without endeavouring to do him any Mischief; the Wicked thought they had no other way to secure their Lives, than by putting a Pe∣riod to his; there was not a Tyrian but was every Day expos'd to fall a Sacrifice to his Distrust; his very Guards were more expos'd than any Body else; for his Life being in their Power, he fear'd them more than all the rest of Men, and up∣on the least Suspicion he Sacrific'd them to his Safety; nevertheless he could not find himself safe any where, since those who were the Trustees of his Life, being in a con∣tinual

Danger, they could not get out of their uneasy Condition, but by preventing the Tyrants cruel Suspicions, and putting him to Death.

The impious Astarbe, whom you have so of often heard mention'd, was the first who resolv'd upon the Death of the King; she was passionately in Love with a young Tyrian, Joazar by Name, a Man of great Wealth, whom she hop'd to place on the Throne. The better to succeed in her Desing, she persuanded the King, that the eldest of his two Sons, nam'd Phadael, impatient to wear the Crown had conspir'd against his Life; she procur'd false Witnesses to prove the Conspiracy, so that the unhappy Father put to Death his innocent Son; the Second, nam'd Baleazar, was sent to Samos, under pretence of learning the Manners, Customs and Sciences of Greece, but indeed because Astarbe gave the King to understand that his Safety requir'd

he should be remov'd from Court, for fear he should enter into Com∣binations with the Malecontents. As soon as he was embarkt, those who commanded the Ship being cor∣rupted by that cruel Woman, took Measures in order to be Ship-wrack'd in the Night, and having cast the young Prince over-board, they sav'd their Lives by Swimming to other Barks that waited for them. In the mean time Pigmalion was the only Person that was unacquainted with Astarbe's Amours; he fancied she would never love any Man but him; and that distrustful Prince, was blinded by Love to such a De∣gree, that he reposed an entire Con∣fidence in that wicked Woman. Yet at the same time his extreme Avarice prompted him to make a way with Joazar (whom Astarbe lov'd with so much Passion) in order to seize upon his vast Riches. But while Pigmalion was tortur'd by Distrust, Love and Avarice, Astarbe

thought it convenient to put him to Death with all speed. She was ap∣prehensive of his discovering her infamous Amours with that young Man; and besides, she knew the King's covetous Temper was by its self sufficient to entice him to exercise his Cruelty upon Joazar; therefore she concluded she had not one Moment to lose to prevent him. She saw the chief Officers of his Houshold willing to embrue their Hands in the King's Blood; she hoard every Day of some new Con∣spiracy or other, but she was a∣fraid of trusting any Body, lest she should be betray'd. At last, she thought most safe to Poyson Pig∣malion her self. He was us'd to Diet by himself with her, and dress'd all his Victuals with his own Hands, not daring to trust any Body else; he lockt himself up in the remotest Part of his Palace, the better to con∣ceal his Distrust, and that he might not be observ'd whilst he was Dress∣ing

his Victuals. He depriv'd him∣self of all Dainties and Delicacies, being afraid to taste of any thing that was not of his own Cooking. Thus not only all manner of Meats drest by others, but also Wine, Bread, Salt, Oyl, Milk, and all other ordinary Aliments were of no use to him. He liv'd only upon Fruit which he gather'd with his own Hands in his Garden, or Pulse and Roots which he had sav'd. Now his Drink was nothing but Water, which he drew himself out of a Fountain, which was inclos'd within his Palace, and of which he always kept the Key. Altho' he seem'd to confide very much in Astarbe, yet he us'd all possible Pre∣cautions against her; he always caus'd her to taste of every thing that was serv'd at his Table, that he might not be poyson'd without her, and that all Hopes of surviving him might be taken away from her. But to baffle his Precaution she took

an Antidote, which an old Woman, still more wicked than her self, and the Confident of her Amours, fur∣nish'd her with: After that she poyson'd the King with great As∣surance in this manner. When they were just going to sit down to take their Repast, the old Woman, of whom I spoke before, came on a sudden and made a great Noise at one of the Doors: The King who was ever in fear of being Assassi∣nated, was presently alarm'd and ran to that Door to see whether it was fast enough: The old Woman retired, the King remain'd troubled and speechless, and not knowing what to think of the Noise he had heard, yet he durst not open the Door to be inform'd. Astarbe cheer'd him up, and with fond Ca∣resses persuaded him to Eat: Now, whilst the King was gone to the Door, she had Poyson'd his Golden∣Cup, and so when he bid her Drink First, she obey'd without any Fear,

trusting to the Antidote. Pigmalion drunk after her, and a little while after fainted away. Astarbe, who knew his cruel Temper, and that he would kill her upon the least Suspicion, begins to rend her Clothes, tears off her Hair, and bemoans her self in a most hideous manner; she clasp'd and hugg'd the dying King in her Arms, and bathed him with a flood of Tears; for this cunning Woman had always Tears at Com∣mand. At last, when she perceiv'd that the King's Strength and Spirits were exhausted, and that he was ready to give up the Ghost, fearing lest, he should recover, and force her to die with him, she gave over her endearing Fondness, and the tenderest Marks of Love, and ha∣ving put on horrid Cruelty, rusht upon him with Fury, and stifled him. Afterwards she pluck'd the Royal Signet off his Finger, took the Dia∣dem off his Head, and call'd in Joazar, to whom she gave them

both. She thought all those who before made their Court to her, would certainly favour her Passion, and that her Lover would be pro∣claim'd King; but those who had been most forward in humouring her, were mean and mercenary Souls, and therefore incapable of a sincere and constant Affection. Be∣sides, they wanted Courage and Resoultion; they fear'd the Haugh∣tiness, Dissimulation and Cruelty of that impious Woman, so that all wish'd her Death to secure their own Lives. In the mean time, a dread∣ful Tumult fills the whole Palace; The King is Dead, the King is Dead, is the general Cry: Some are fright∣ed; others run to their Arms; all seem to be in Pain about the Conse∣quence of it, but transported with the News; busy Fame carries it about upon her Wings through all the great City of Tyre; every Body speaks of the King's being Poyson'd but not one is found that is concern'd

at it. His Death is at once the De∣liverance and the general Comfort of the People. Narbal deeply af∣fected with so terrible an Accident, deplor'd, like a good Man, the Misfortunes of Pigmalion, who had betray'd himself by committing his Safety to the impious Astarbe; and had chosen to be a dreadful and fierce Tyrant, rather than the Fa∣ther of his People, which is a Duty incumbent on a King. He there∣fore consulted the good of the State, and hastened to assemble all good and publick-spirited Men to oppose Astarbe, under whom they were like to see a more cruel Government, than that to which she had put a Period.

Baleazar did not Drown when he was cast into the Sea; and those who assur'd Astarbe that he was Dead, did it only upon a meer Conjecture: But by the Favour of the Night, he sav'd himself by Swimming; and some Cretan

Fisher-men mov'd with Compassi∣on receiv'd him into their Bark. He durst not return into his Father's Kingdom, suspecting, with Rea∣son, that his Shipwrack was con∣triv'd by his Enemies; and fearing no less the cruel Jealousy of Pigma∣lion, than the Stratagems of Astarbe, He remain'd a long while wan∣dring and unknown on the Sea∣Coast of Syria, where the Cretan Fisher-men had lest him: And to get a Livelihood he was reduc'd to the Condition of a Shepherd. At last he found a way to let Narbal know that he was alive, and what Condition he was in, for he could not but think his Secret and his Life safe with a Man of his undoubted Virtue and Integrity. Narbal, tho ill us'd by the Father, had never∣theless a Love and Respect for the Son, whose Interest he all along consulted; but he took care of him only to keep him from being want∣ing in his Duty to his Father, and

upon that Score he persuaded him to bear patiently with his hard For∣tune. Baleazar had sent Narbal Word, that if he thought it safe for him to come to Tyre, he would send him a golden Ring, upon the Receipt of which he would go to meet him. Narbal did not judge it convenient to invite Baleazar to come whilst Pigmalion was alive, for by that means he would have brought both that Prince's Life, and his own into certain Danger, so difficult a thing it was to avoid Pig∣malion's Suspicions and Cruelty; but as soon as that wretched Prince had made an end suitable to what his Crimes deserv'd, Narbal sent the golden Ring to Baleazar with all speed. Upon the Receipt of it, Baleazar came away immediately, and arriv'd before the Gates of Tyre, when all the City was in an Up∣roar about Pigmalion's Successor. Baleazar was soon acknowledged by the chief Citizens of Tyre, and by

the whole People. He was belov'd not upon the account of the late King his Father, who had the uni∣versal Hatred, but because of his Gentleness and Moderation. His very Misfortunes serv'd, in a great measure, to give a heightening Brightness to all his good Qualities, and to touch all the Tyrians with a deep sense of Compassion for his past Sufferings. Narbal assembled the chief Men among the People, the old Men of the City-Council, and the Priests of the Goddess of Phoenicia. They saluted Baleazar as their King, and caus'd him to be proclaim'd such by their Heralds; the People answer'd them with re∣peated Acclamations, which reach'd the Ears of Astarbe, even into the remotest part of the Palace, where she was lockt in with her base and infamous Joazar. All the wicked Men whom she had made use of during Pigmalion's Life, had alrea∣dy forsaken her; for the Wicked

do naturally hate and fear the Wick∣ed, and never wish to see them in Authority, because they know how much they would abuse their Pow∣er, and how far they would extend their Violence. As for good Men, the Wicked think them better for their Turn, because upon occasion they hope to find in them Indul∣gence and Moderation. Astarbe had no Body left about her but the most notorious Accomplices of her enormous Crimes, who were con∣tinually in fearful Expectation of their deserved Punishment. The Gates of the Palace being broke o∣pen, those profligate Wretches durst not make a long Resistance, and on∣ly endeavour'd to run away. Astarbe, with the Habit of a Salve, would have made her Escape through the Crowd, but being discovered by a Soldier, she was presently secur'd, and 'twas with much ado that Nar∣bal kept her from being torn in pieces by the enrag'd Multitude, who be∣gan

already to drag her along in the Mire. In this Extremity she desir'd to speak with Baleazar, thinking she might dazzle him by her Charms, and amuse him with the hopes that she would discover some important Secrets to him. At first, besides her Beauty, she display'd such soft and gentle Modesty as would have melted the fiercest Anger. She flatter'd Baleazar with the nicest and most insinuating Commenda∣tions; she represented to him how much Pigmalian lov'd her; she con∣jur'd him by his Fathre's Ashes to take Pity on her; she invok'd the Gods, as if she had a sincere Adora∣tion for them; she shed Floods of bitter Tears; she grasp'd the Knees of the new King, and us'd all her Artifice to render his best affected Servants both suspected and odious to him. She accus'd Narbal of be∣ing entred into a Conspiracy against Pigmalion, and endeavouring to withdraw the People from their

Obedience to Baleazar, in order to make himself King; she added, that he design'd to Poison that young Prince; and invented such other Calumnies to asperse all the rest of the Tyrians, who were addicted to Virtue. She hoped to have found the Heart of Baleazar susceptible of the same Distrust and Suspicions, which she had found in the King his Father. But Baleazar not being able to bear any longer with the black Malice of that wicked Wo∣man; he interrupted her, and call'd for a Guard to secure her. Being sent to Prison, the wisest old Men were appointed to examine all her Actions: They found with Horror that she had poison'd and stifled Pigmalion; and the whole Series of her Life appear'd to be a continual Course of monstrous Villany. They were ready to sentence her to suffer the Punishment which is inflicted on great Offenders in Phenicia, that is to be burnt alive by a lingring

Fire; but when she saw she had no manner of Hopes left, she became fierce and mad like a Fury, and swallow'd down a Poison which she us'd to carry about her with design to make away with her self, in case they would put her to ling∣ring Torments. Those who guard∣ed her, took notice that she was in a violent Pain, and offer'd to give her ease; but she would never an∣swer their Questions; only by Signs she let them understand that she would receive no Relief. They mention'd to her the just and aveng∣ing Gods whom she had anger'd; but instead of shewing any Trouble or Sorrow that might atone for her Crimes, she look'd upon Hea∣ven with Pride and Contempt, as it were to insult the Almighty Powers. An impious Rage over-spread her dying Face; there was not the least remainder of that excellent Beauty which had been the Destruction of so many Men; all her Graces were

wholly defac'd; her faint, hollow Eyes roll'd in their Orbits with wild, staring Looks; a convulsive Motion shook her Lips, and kept her Mouth open in a hideous man∣ner; all her Face shrivell'd and wrinkled, yielded a ghastly pro∣spect by its continual Distortions; a dead Coldness and Paleness had seiz'd all her Limbs; sometimes she seem'd to gather fresh Spirits, and come to her self again; but 'twas only a faint struggle of Na∣ture, which spent it self into hide∣ous Howlings; at last she expir'd, leaving all the Spectators full of Horror and Fear. Without doubt her impious * 1.2 Manes went down into those Places of Sorrow, where the cruel Danaids do eternally draw Water with Ves∣sels full of Holes, where Ixion con∣tinually turns his Wheel; where Tantalus flaming with Thirst, can never catch the wanton Water that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his eager Lips; where Sisyphus

vainly rolls up to the Top of a Mountain a Stone which tumbles down again continually; and where Thitius will for ever feel a Vultur preying upon his growing Liver. Baleazar being deliver'd of that Monster, return'd the Gods Thanks by innumerable Sacrifices. His Con∣duct at the beginning of his Reign was quite different from Pigma∣lion's; he applies himself to the promoting of Trade, which lan∣guish'd and decay'd more and more every day; he consults with Narbal about the most important Affairs, and yet he is not govern'd by him; for he will see every thing with his own Eyes; he hears every Body's Opinion, but reserves the deciding Vote to himself; he is generally be∣lov'd by his People, and being Ma∣ster of their Hearts he enjoys more Riches than ever his Father heap'd up with his cruel and insatiable Ava∣rice; for there is never a Family but what would part with all they have,

if he happen'd to be reduc'd to a pressing Necessity. Thus what he suffers them to enjoy is more at his command, than if he should for∣cibly take it from them. He needs not use any Precaution, or be solli∣citous to secure his Life, for he has still the safest Guard about him, which is the Love of his Subjects; every one them being afraid to lose him, and therefore willing to hazard his own Life to preserve that of so good a King. He lives happy with his People, and all his People live happy under him. He is ever afraid of burthening his Peo∣ple, whereas they are afraid of giving him too little a share in their Estates. He lets them live in Plenty, and this Plenty makes them neither re∣fractory nor insolent; for they are Laborious, addicted to Trade, and stedfast in the keeping of their an∣cient Laws pure and intire. Phe∣nicia has now recover'd the height of her Greatness and Glory, and 'tis

to her young King, and to Narbal, who governs under him, that she owes all her Prosperities. Oh! Te∣lemachus, if he could now see and embrace you, with how much Joy would he load you with Presents! What a Pleasure would it be to him to send you back into your own Country! Am I not then very for∣tunate in doing, what he would have done himself, and going to the Isle of Ithaca, and there place on the Thorne the Son of Ulysses, that he may Reign there as wisely as Baleazar Reigns at Tyre?

Adoam having thus spoken, Tele∣machus highly pleas'd with his Sto∣ry, and much more with the Marks of Friendship he receiv'd from him, embrac'd him with great Tender∣ness and Affection; and their re∣peated Expressions of mutual Kind∣ness being over, Adoam ask'd him what extraordinary Adventure had led him into the Island of Calipso? Telemachus, in his turn, gave him

the Story of his departure from Tyre, and his going over to the Isle of Cy∣prus: He related to him, his meet∣ing again with Mentor; Their Voy∣age into Crete; The publick Games for the Election of a new King af∣ter Idomeneus's Flight; Venus's An∣ger; Their Ship-wrack; The kind and joyful Welcome Calipso had made them; The Jealousie of that Goddess against one of her Nymphs, and Mentor's throwing his Friend into the Sea as soon as he espied the Phenician Ship.

After they had given each other the respective Stories of their Ad∣ventures, Adoam caus'd a magnifi∣cent Entertainment to be serv'd up; and the better to express his exces∣sive Joy, he procur'd all the Plea∣sures that could be had whilest they were at Table; during which time they were attended by young Phe∣nician Boys clad in white; they burnt the most exquisite Frankin∣cense of Arabia; all the Rowers

Seats were fill'd with Musitians playing on the Flute. Architoas now and then interrupted them by the sweet Harmony of his Voice and his Lyre, fit to entertain the Gods at their Revels, and even to please the Ears of Apollo himself. The Tri∣tons, the Nereids, all the Deities who obey the Command of Neptune, and the Sea-Monsters themselves forsook their watry deep Grotto's, and came in Shoals round the Ship, charm'd by this Divine Melody. A Com∣pany of young Phenicians, of an ex∣cellent Beauty, and clad in fine Lawn, as white as the driven Snow, danc'd for a long time several Dan∣ces of their own Country; after∣wards they danc'd after the AEgyp∣tain manner; and, last of all, after the Grecian. Now and then the loud Trumpets made the Waves re∣sound with their Clangors as far as the distant Shore. The dead of silent Night, the stilness of the Sea, the trembling Light of the Moon which

play'd on the surface of the Water, and the Azure Blew of the Skies, studded with bright twinkling Stars, serv'd to heighten the Nobleness and Majesty of the Shew. Telemachus being of a quick and sprightly Tem∣per, easily affected with the Impres∣sions of sensual Objects, relish'd all those Pleasures with delight; but he durst not indulge himself too far in the enjoying of them, since he had experienc'd to his Grief and Shame in the Isle of Calipso, how ready Youth is to be inflam'd. He was shy and afraid, even of the most innocent Pleasures, and suspe∣cted every Thing. He look'd up∣on Mentor, and consulted both his Face and his Eyes to know what he ought to think of all those Pleasures. Mentor was not a little pleas'd to see him in that Perplexity, but made as if he did not take notice of it; at last mov'd with Telemachus's Mode∣ration, he told him with a Smile: I perceive what you are afraid of;

nay, I applaud your Fear; but however, you must have a care not to carry it too far. No Man can ever wish more earnestly than I, that you enjoy those soft and mode∣rate Pleasures that will leave you the use of your Reason, and can ne∣ver turn you into a furious Brute; 'tis now convenient you should re∣fresh your self after all your Trou∣bles and Fatigue; relish with a grateful Complaisance to Adoam, all those Enjoyments he offers you; be merry, Telemachus, be merry and rejoyce; Virtue is neither morose, austere, nor affected: 'Tis she yields true Pleasures, she alone knows how to season and temper them, to make them solid and lasting; she knows how to mix Mirth and Sports with the most important and seri∣ous Affairs; she prepares us for Plea∣sure by Labour, and refreshes the Hardships of Labour by Pleasure; Wisdom it self is not asham'd to be gay and sprightly upon occasion.

Having spoke these words, Mentor took up a Harp and touch'd it with such exquisite Art, that Architoas stung with Jealousie, let his drop from his Hands, his Eyes were flaming with spite, his troubled Face turn'd pale, then blush'd, and then turn'd pale again; and every Body would have taken notice of his Pain and Confusion, but that at the same moment Mentor's Harp had ravish'd into Extasie the Soul of all the As∣sistants. No Man scarce durst draw Breath for fear of interrupting the profound Silence, and so losing the least Note of the Divine Song; all were still in pain lest he should end it too soon. Mentor's Voice had no effeminate softness, but was flexible, mellow, and strong; and he us'd it with such Art, that he humour'd to admiration every thing he Sung. He at first rehears'd the Praises of migh∣ty Jove, the Father and King both of Gods and Men, who with a Nod shakes the whole Universe: After∣wards

he represented Minerva com∣ing out of his Head, that is, Wis∣dom, which that supreme God cre∣ates within himself, and which issues from him to instruct those Men who are willing to be taught. Men∣tor sung all those Truths in such di∣vine and lofty Strains, that the whole Assembly thought themselves transported to the very Top of Olympus, before the Face of great Jupiter, whose Looks are as pierce∣ing as his Thunder. Next to that, he sung the Misfortune of young Narcissus, whose being fondly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with his own Beauty, which he was continually viewing in a Foun∣tain, consum'd himself with Grief, and was chang'd into a Flower that bears its Name. Lastly, he sung the fatal Death of fair Adonis, whom a fierce wild Boar tore in Pieces, and whom Venus, being passionately in love with, could never bring to life again, with all the bitter Complaints she put up to Heaven.

None of those who heard him were able to contain their Tears; and every one felt a secret Pleasure in Weeping, when he had done Singing. The Phenicians look'd up∣on one another full of Wonder and Amazement: One said, this is Or∣pheus, for thus with his Harp he us'd to tame fierce Beasts, and draw after him both Trees and Stones. 'Tis thus he enchanted Cerberus: suspended for a while the Torments of Ixion, and of the Danaids; and mov'd the inexorable Pluto, to let the fair Eurydice go out of Hell. Ano∣ther cry'd: No, tis Linus the Son of Apollo; to whom some body answer'd, You are mistaken: this must be Ap∣pollo himself. Telemachus's Surprize was little less than that of the rest, for he never knew before that Men∣tor could play on the Harp with so much Mastery. Architoas, who by this time had conceal'd his Jealousie, began to give Mentor those Com∣mendations he deserv'd; but he

could not praise him without blush∣ing, neither was he able to make an end of his Discourse. Mentor, who saw what Trouble he was in, be∣gan to interrupt him, and endea∣vour'd to comfort him by com∣mending his Musick. However, his Praises did not comfort Architoas, for he was sensible that Mentor sur∣pass'd him yet more by his Modesty, by the Charms of his Voice.

In the mean time Telemachus said to Adoam, I remember you spoke to me of a Voyage you made into Be∣tica, fince we came away from AEgypt; and because Betica is a Country of which common Fame relates so many incredible Wonders, Vouchsafe to tell me what we must believe of them. I will be extream glad, reply'd Adoam, to give you Description of that famous Country, which deserves your Couriosity, and which is much beyond what Fame proclaims about it; whereupon he began thus: —

The River Betis runs through a fruitful Land, and under a temper'd and ever-serene Sky: The Coun∣try has its Name from the River, which discharges its Waters into the great Ocean near the famous Pillars of Hercules, and about that Place where the furious Sea breaking thro' its Banks, divided heretofore the Land of Tarsis from Great Africa. This Country seems to have pre∣serv'd the Delights of the Golden Age; here Winters are Luke-warm, and the fierce Northern Winds ne∣ver rage in it; the scorching Heat of the Summer is ever allay'd by re∣freshing Zephires, which fan the sweltry Air towards Noon; so that the whole Year is but a happy Hy∣men betwixt Spring and Autumn, which seem ever to go Hand in Hand. The Land, both in the Val∣lies and the Plains, yields every Year a double Harvest; the Hills are over-spread with numerous Flocks of Sheep, whose fine Wool

is a choice Commodity among all Nations of the known World. There are a great many Mines of Gold and Silver in that happy Coun∣try; but its rude Inhabitants, con∣tented and happy with their Plain∣ness, disdain to count Gold or Sil∣ver among their Riches, and only value what is really necessary to an∣swer the Wants of Humane Nature. When we first began to Trade with that Nation, we found Gold and Silver employ'd among them about the same uses as Iron; as for exam∣ple, for Plow-shares, &c. As they had no outward Trade, so they wanted no Coin; most of them are either Shepherds or Husband-men; Artificers and Tradesmen are but few in this Country; for they only tolerate those Arts which procure the Necessaries of Life; and besides, tho' most of the Inhabitants either follow Agriculture, or the tending of Herds and Flocks, yet they are skill'd in those Arts which are ser∣viceable

for the support of their plain and frugal way of living. The Women spin that silky Wool I told you of; and make extraordinary fine and white Stuffs; they bake Bread; dress Victuals; and all those Labours are easie to them; for in this Country their ordinary Food is Fruit and Milk; out of the Leather of their Sheep, they make thin Shoes for themselves, their Husbands and their Children; they make Tents, some of waxed Skins, and others of Barks of Trees; they wash the Cloaths, keep the Houses in order, and sweet and clean to admiration, and make Garments for all the Fa∣mily; those Garments are easily made; for in this sweet and happy Climate, they only wear a thin and light Piece of Stuff, neither cut nor sow'd; and which, for Modesty's sake, every one laps about his Body. in long folds, and in what form he pleases. The Men, besides Husban∣dry, and the tending of the Herds

and Flocks, have no other Arts to exercise but the Working and Fa∣shioning of Wood and Iron; and even in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 they seldom make any use of Fire, unless it be for Tools necessary for Husbandry. All those Arts which belong to Architecture are altogether useless to them, for they never build Houses; it argues, say they, too great a Fondness for the Earth, the building a Dwelling upon it much more lasting than one self; it is sufficient to have a Shel∣ner against the Injuries of the Air. As for all other Arts, so much 〈◊〉〈◊〉 among the Grecians, the AEgyptains and other civiliz'd Na∣tions, they abhor and detest them as the Inventions of Pride and Ef∣feminacy. When they hear of Na∣tions that have the skill of raising magnificent Buildings; and can make Gold and Silver, houshold Goods, Stuffs adorn'd with Imbroi∣dery and precious Stones, exquisite Perfumes, delicious and dainty Di∣shes

of Meat, and Instruments of Musick, whose Harmony inchants the Soul, they answer in these words; Those Nations are unhappy, thus to have bestow'd so much Time, Labour, and Industry upon the cor∣rupting of themselves; those Super∣fluities soften, intoxicate and tor∣ment the Possessors of them, and tempt those that are depriv'd of them to acquire them by Injustice and Violence: And how can that be called a Good, which serves only to make Men wicked? The Men of those Countries, are they more sound, strong and robust than we? Do they live longer? And are they better united among themselves? Is there Life more free from Cares, more peaceful, and more jovial and merry? Nay, on the contrary, they must needs be jealous of one ano∣ther, devour'd by shameful and black Envy, ever disquieted and tortur'd by Ambition, Fears and Avarice, and incapable of enjoying plain,

unmixt and solid Pleasures, since they are Slaves to so many sham Necessaries, on which they make all their Felicity depend. Thus 'tis, continued Adoam, that these wise Men speak, who owe all their Wisdom to their diligent Study of Nature; they have an abhorrence for our Politeness, and it must be confest that theirs has something great in their admirable Plainness; they live all together without di∣viding the Land; every Family is govern'd by its Chief, who is real King of it; the Father of the Fa∣mily has the power to punish any of his Children of Grand-children, that commits a Fault, but before he inflicts the Punishment, he ad∣vises with the rest of the Family: 'Tis rare indeed that there is any Punishment; for the Innocence of Manners, Truth, Honesty, Inte∣grity, Obedience and Abhorrence of Vice dwell in this happy Place, and it seems as if Astrea, who is

said to have retir'd into Heaven, lies yet conceal'd here among these Peo∣ple: There is no need of Judges amongst them, for their own Con∣sciences Judge'em: All their Goods are in Common; the Fruits of the Trees, the Grain, Pulse of the Earth, the Milk of the Herds are so abounding, that a People so So∣ber and so Moderate have no occa∣sion to divide 'em; each moving fancily in this happy Countrey, car∣ry their Tents from one Place to another, when they have eaten up the Pasturage, and consum'd the Fruits of that part whence they come, so that it is not their Interest to maintain one against t'other; and if they all love one another with a brotherly Love, which nothing can interrupt, 'tis the contempt of vain Riches and of deceitful Plea∣sures which confirm 'em in this Peace, Union and Liberty. They are all free, and all equal, and there is no other difference among 'em than

that alone which the Experience of the Grave, old Men, or the extra∣ordinary Wisdom of some young Men makes, who being accom∣plish'd in all Virtue, equal the old Men: The cruel Outcrys of Fraud, Violence, Perjury, Law-suits and Wars are never heard in this Coun∣trey cherish'd by the Gods: No hu∣man Blood ever stain'd this Land, no, not so much as the Blood of innocent Lambs: When they hear of bloody Battels, devouring Con∣quests, of the overthrow of States, which are frequent in all other Na∣tions, they are Amaz'd. What, say they, are not Men subject enough to Mortality, without per∣cipitating one another to Death! Life that is so short seems to them too long. Are they sent here upon Earth to tear one another in Pieces, and so make themselves mutually Miserable? Nor cou'd these People of Betica imagin why those Conque∣rors, who subjugate great Empires,

shou'd be so much admir'd: What a Folly 'tis, said they, for a Man to place his Happiness in governing other Men, the government of whom is so very troublesome, if they are govern'd by reason, and according to Justice: But how can he take Pleasure in governing them against their Wills? 'Tis all that a wise Man ought to do, to submit himself to govern a docile People, of whom the Gods have given him Charge, or a People who entrent him to be as a Father or Shepherd to 'em; but to govern a People against their Will, is to make him∣self most Miserable, to gain a false Honour for kiiping them in Slave∣ry. A Conqueror is a Man whom the Gods, irritated against Man∣kind, have sent upon the Earth in their Wrath, to lay Kingdoms wast, spread Terrours, Misery and De∣spair every where, and to make as many Slaves as there are free Men. Is it not Glory enough to a Man that

thirsts after Fame to rule those with Prudence whom the Gods have put under him? Do's he think that he is not worthy of Praise unless he be∣comes Violent, Unjust, Insulting, an Usurper and Tyrannick over all his Neighbours? War shou'd never be thought on but for the defence of Liberty. He is happy, who being a Slave to no Man, has not the vain Ambition to make another Man his Slave. Those mighty Conquerors whom they represent to us with so much Glory, are like those over∣flowing Rivers, which appear Ma∣jestick, but destroy those fertile Countrys which they shou'd only refresh.

After Adoam had given this De∣scription of Betica, Telemachus, charm'd with his Relation, ask'd him several particular Questions: Do these People, said he, drink Wine? They are so far from Drink∣ing it, reply'd Adoam, that they ne∣ver car'd to make any; not that they

want Grapes, since no Country whatever produces more delicious; but they are satisfi'd with eating Grapes as they do other Fruits; for they dread Wine as the Corrupter of Mankind: 'Tis a kind of Poyson (say they) which makes 'em Mad; it does not kill a Man, indeed, but it makes him a Beast: Men may preserve their Health without Wine, whose effect is to destroy good Man∣ners. Then, said Telemachus, I wou'd fain know what Laws are observ'd in Marriages in this Na∣tion. No Man, replied Adoam, can have more than one Wife, whom he must keep as long as she lives. The Honour of the Men in this Country depends as much on their Fidelity to their Wives, as the Ho∣nour of the Wives depends in other Countries on their Fidelity to their Husbands: Never were People so Honest, and so jealous of their Cha∣stity; the Wives here are Beautiful and Agreeable, but Plain, Modest

and Laborious; their Marriages are Peaceable, Fruitful, and without Blemish; the Husband and Wife seem to be but one Person in Two different Bodies; the Husband and the Wife share the Cares of dome∣stick Affairs together, the Husband manages all the Concerns abroad, the Wife keeps close to her Business at home; she Comforts her Hus∣band, and seems to be made for no∣thing else but to please him; she gains his Confidence, and contri∣butes less by her Beauty than her Virtue to heighten the Charms of their Society, which lasts as long as they live: The Sobriety, Tempe∣rance, and the Purity of Manners of these People give 'em a long Life, and free from Diseases; here are Men of an Hundred, and of an Hundred and twenty Years Old, who yet are Fresh and Vigorous. I wou'd know now, said Telemachus, how they do to avoid going to War with other People their Neighbours.

Nature, continued Adoam, has se∣parated them from other People, on one side by the Sea, and on the other side by high Mountains: On the other hand, the neighbouring Nations respect 'em for the sake of their Virtue: Several times the other People falling out among themselves, have made these Judges of their Differences, and have en∣trusted the Lands and Towns, for which they disputed, with them. As this wise Nation has never com∣mitted any Violence, no Body di∣strusts 'em. They Laugh when they hear of Kings who can't govern the Frontiers of their Estates among themselves. Is it to be fear'd, say they, that Men shou'd want Lands? There will ever be more than they can cultivate; as long there re∣mains free Lands, we wou'd not so much as defend our own against our Neighbours, who wou'd take 'em from us; nor Envy, nor Pride, nor Falshood, nor a Desire of enlarging

their Dominions, was ever known among the Inhabitants of Betica; so that their Neighbours never have occasion to fear such a People, nor can ever hope to make them fear it; which is the reason that they ne∣ver molest 'em: These People wou'd sooner forsake their Country, or wou'd deliver themselves up to Death, than submit themselves to Slavery: Thus they are as difficult to be Enslav'd, as itis for them to desire to Enslave others. 'Tis that causes so profound a Peace between them and their Neighbours. Adoam ended this Discourse, with an Ac∣count of the menner of Traffick be∣tween the Phaenicians and those of Betica: These People, Pursu'd he, were amaz'd when they saw strange Men come from so far on the Waves of the Sea: They receiv'd us very kindly, and gave us part of all that they had, without taking any pay∣ment for it; they offer'd us all that

was left of their Wooll, after they had sufficiently provided for their own use, and indeed sent us a rich Present of it. 'Tis a Pleasure to them to give their overplus libe∣rally to Strangers. As for their Mines, it was no manner of trou∣ble at all to have parted with 'em to us, they made no advantage of 'em; they fancy'd Men were not overwise to search with so much Pains in the Bowels of the Earth, what cou'd not make 'em happy, nor satisfy true Necessity. Do not dig, said they to us, so deep into the Earth, content your selves with Ploughing and Tilling it, it will afford you real Goods that will nou∣rish you, you will reap Fruits from it that are more valuble than Gold and Silver, since Men desire neither Gold nor Silver only to purchase Necessaries to support Life. We wou'd often have taught 'em Na∣vigation, and have carry'd the young Men of their Country in∣to

Phaenicia; but they wou'd never consent that their Children shou'd learn to Live after our manner. They wou'd learn, said they to us, to have occasion for all those Things that are meerly necessary to us; they wou'd have 'em, and they wou'd forsake Virtue to gain them; they wou'd grow, like a Man who has good Legs, and who having lost the custom of Walking, brings him∣self at last to the sad necessity of be∣ing always carry'd like a sick Man. Indeed they admire Navigation, because it is an industrious Art; but they believe it is pernicious: If those People, say they, have sufficient of what is necessary to Life in their own Country, What do they seek in another? Are not they contented with what is sufficient to Nature? They deserve to be Shipwrack'd, for seeking Death in the midst of Tempests to satiate their Avarice. Telemachus was ravish'd at Adoam's Discourese, he was highly pleas'd

that there was yet a People in the World, who following the true Dictates of Nature, was both so wise and so happy. Oh, how far different are these Morals, said he, from those vain and ambitious Man∣ners of those People whom we be∣lieve to be the wisest! We are so vitiated that we can hardly think this so natural Simplicity can be real. We look upon the Morals of these People only as a pleasant Fable, and we ought to look upon ours as a monstrous Dream.

Whilst Telemachus and Adoam en∣tertain'd one another in this man∣ner, negelcting Sleep, and not per∣ceiving that it ws already Mid∣night; a deceitful Deity, their Ene∣my, led 'em far wide of Ithaca, which their Pilot Achamas attempt∣ed to make in vain. Neptune, al∣tho a Friend to the Phaenicians, cou'd no longer endure to think that Te∣lemachus had escap'd the Tempest that had thrown him on the Rocks

of the Isle of Calipso. Venus, who was yet more enrag'd to see this young triumphant Hero, who had overcome Love and all its Charms, in the transport of her Grief left Cythera, Paphos, Idalia, and all the Honours which are paid to her in the Isle of Cyprus; and cou'd no longer stay in those Places where Telemachus had despis'd her Power; but mounts to bright Olympus where all the Gods were assembled round the Throne of Jupiter. From this Place they behold the Stars moving under their Feet: Thence they see the Globe of the Earth, like a little lump of Dirt. The vast Seas seem to them only like drops of Water, with which the lump of Dirt is a little moistned: The greatest King∣doms are in their Sight but a little Sand which cover the superficies of this Dirt: The innumerable People, and the most powerful Armies, seem but as Ants which contend with one another for a slip of Grass upon this

heap of Dirt. The Immortals Laugh at the most serious Affairs that disturb foolish Mortals, and they appear to them like the Sports of Children: What Men call Gran∣deur, Glory and Power, seem to the highest Powers nothing but Mi∣sery and Folly. 'Tis in this Habi∣tation so much elevated above the Earth, that Jupiter has fix'd his im∣moveable Throne. His Eyes pierce into the very Abyss, and look even into the most secret corners of all Hearts; his soft and serence Aspects disperse Tranquility and Joy over all the Universe: On the contrary, when he shakes his awful Head, he moves both Heaven and Earth: The Gods themselves dazl'd with the Rays of the Glory that surround him, can't approach him without Trembling; all the celestial Dei∣ties were near him at that Moment. Venus presented her self with all the Charms which wanton on her beautiful Bosom: Her loose Gown

had more splendor than all the Co∣lours that Iris adorns her self with in the dark Clouds, when she comes to promise to affrighted Mortals the end of Tempests, and to proclaim to 'em the return of fair Weather. Her Robe was ty'd with that famous Girdle on which the Graces are re∣presented. The Goddess's Hair was negligently ty'd behind by a Locket of Gold. All the Gods were surpriz'd at her Beauty, as if they had never seen her before; and their Eyes were dazl'd like the Eyes of Mortals, when after a long Night, Phoebus returns to enlighten 'em with his Rays, they look one one another with Asto∣nishment, and their Eyes return'd and fix'd always on Venus; but they perceiv'd the Goddess's Eyes were bath'd in Tears, and that a deep Sorrow sate on her Face: Mean while she advanc'd towards the Throne of Jupiter with a soft and smooth Pace, like the rapid Flight of a Bird that cuts the vast

Space of the yielding Air: He look'd on her with a great deal of compla∣cency. and smil'd kindly on her, and, rising, embrac'd her. My drar Daughter, said he, what grieves you? I can't see your Tears with∣out concern; fear not to discover your Thoughts to me, you know my Tenderness and Indulgence. Ve∣nus answer'd him with a soft Voice, but interrupted with deep Sighs; O, Father of Gods and Men! You who see all things, can't choose but know the cause of my Sorrow; Mi∣nerva is not satisfied even with over-throwing the lofty Town of Troy which I defended, and to be reveng'd on Paris who had prefer'd my Beauty to her's but she conducts the Son of Ulysses, that cruel De∣stroyer of Troy, over Land and Sea; Telemachus is still accompany'd by Minerva, which occasions that she does not appear here in Place with the rest of the Deities: She led this young Bravo into the Isle of Cyprus

to affront me, who not only dis∣dain'd to burn Incense on my Al∣tars, but he has exprest an abhor∣rence of the Feasts which are cele∣brated in honour of me; he has shut up his Heart against my Plea∣sures; in vain has Neptune rais'd the Winds and the Waves against him at my Request, to punish him. Te∣lemachus cast by an horrible Ship∣wrack on the Isle of Calipso, tri∣umph'd over Love himself, whom I had sent into this Island to soften the Heart of this young Greek; nei∣ther the Youth nor the Charms of Calipso, and of her Nymphs, nor the flaming Shafts of Love cou'd over-come the Artifices of Minerva, she has snatch'd him away from that Island: See how I am con∣founded, a Stripling triumphs over me!

Jupiter to comfort her, said, 'Tis true, my Daughter, that Minerva defends the Heart of this young Greek against all the Darts of your

Son; and she designs him more Glo∣ry than ever young Man attain'd to: I am troubled that he has de∣spis'd your Altars, but I can't give him up to your Power; but for the love of you, I consent that he shall still wander both by Sea and Land; that he shall live far from his own Country, expos'd to all sorts of Mi∣series and Dangers, but the Fates will neither suffer him to perish, nor his Virtue to yield to those Pleasures with which you bewitch Mankind. Be comforted then, my Daughter, to keep so many Hero's and so ma∣ny Gods under your Empire. Here, he smil'd on Venus with all the Grace and Majesty of the greatest Deity: A flash of Light like the most piercing Lightnings darted from his Eyes, and tenderly kissing Venus, he dispers'd an Odour of Ambrosia which perfum'd all Olym∣pus. The Goddess cou'd not but be sensible of this Caress from the greatest of the Gods; in spite of

her Tears and Grief, Joy was visi∣ble in all her Face; she let down her Veil to hide her Blushes, and the Confusion in which she found her self: The whole Assembly ap∣plauded what Jupiter had said; and, Venus, without losing one moment, hasted to find out Neptune, to con∣sult with him the means of reveng∣ing her self on Telemachus. She re∣peated to Neptune what Jupiter had said to her: I knew long since, re∣turn'd Neptune, the irreversible De∣cree of the Fates; but tho' we can't swallow up Telemachus in the Waves of the Sea, yet let us not forget any thing that may make him wretch∣ed, and retard his return to Ithaca; I cant't yield that the Phenician Ves∣sel on which he is Aboard should be lost; for I love the Phenicians, they are my People; no other Nation in the Universe cultivates my Empire as they do; 'tis by their Industry alone that the Sea is become the means of a Commerce between all

the People of the Earth; they ho∣nour me with continual Sacrifices on my Altars; they are Just, Wise, and Laborious in their Traffick; they disperse Profit and Plenty over all the Earth: No, Goddess, I can't allow that one of their Vessels shou'd be wreck'd; but I will make the Pl∣lot lose his Course, and steer wide of Ithaca, whither he is bound. Contented with this Promise, Venus forc'd a malicious Smile, and alight∣ed from her flying Chariot on the flow'ry Meadows of Idalia, where the Graces, with Sports and Laugh∣ters, express'd their Joy to see her again, dancing about her, on the Flowers that perfume this charming Abode: And Neptune immediately dispatch'd a deceitful Deity, like the God of Dreams, save only that Dreams deceive but during the time of sleep, whereas this Deity enchants Mens Senses when they are awake. This mischievous Deity, attended by a vast multitude of winged Lies and

Falsities, which flutter'd about him, came to pour a subtil and enchant∣ing Liquor on the Eyes of the Pi∣lot. Achamas, who was attentively considering the height of the Moon, the Course of the Stars, and the Port of Ithaca, whose sharp pointed Rocks he had already discover'd near e∣nough to him; but in this very mo∣ment the Pilot's Eyes cou'd discern nothing truly as it was; another Sky presented it self to him, the Stars seem'd as if they had chang'd their Course, and were returning back again to their Spheres: All the Firmament seem'd to move by new Laws; the very Earth it self was alter'd, and a false Ithaca always in the Pilot's View, to amuse him all the time he was shearing off from the true one: The more he advanc'd towards this deceitful Representa∣tion of the Port of the Island, the more this false Representation delud∣ed him; nor cou'd he imagin what to make of this Retreat: Sometimes

he thought he already heard the noise that is usually made in a Port, and was strait preparing according to the Orders he had receiv'd to go a Shore on a little Island near the great one, to destroy the Lovers of Penelope, who had conspir'd to hin∣der the return of this young Prince Telemachus: Sometimes he fear'd the Shelves which are so numerous on the Shoars of that part of the Sea, and he fancy'd he heard the dread∣ful Roaring of the Waves which break themselves against these Shelves: Then all on a sudden, he observ'd that the Land appear'd yet more distant; the Mountains seem'd no otherwise to him, so far off, than as so many little Clouds which some∣times darken the Horizon, while yet the Sun is set. Thus was Acha∣mas amaz'd, and the Impression of this deceitful Deity that had charm'd his Eyes, made him sensible that he was possess'd with something more than ordinary, which 'till then he

had not perceiv'd; at the same time 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he cou'd not believe that he was awake, but that he was deluded on∣ly by a Dream. Neptune in the mean time commanded the East Wind to blow, in order to drive the Ship on the Coasts of Hesperia: Tho Wind obey'd him with such a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Gale, that the Ship soon 〈◊〉〈◊〉 at the Port that Neptune had design'd it.

Aurora had already proclaim'd the approaching day; already had the Stars, which fear and are jealous of the Rays of the Sun, hidden their dark Fires in the Ocean, when the Pilot cry'd out, I am out of doubt, for we are just upon the Island of Ithaca: Chear up, Telemachus! Now is the time that you shall see Pene∣lope again, and (perhaps) find Ulys∣ses reseated on his Throne. Telema∣chus, who was till then, fast lock'd in the Arms of a profound Sleep, awaking at these words, rises and comes into the Steerage, embraces

the Pilot, and with his Eyes yet hardly open, stedfastly views the Neighbouring Shoar, and sigh'd when he cou'd not perceive his own Country's Shoar. Alas, said he, where are we! Achamas, you are deceiv'd; you are but ill acquainted with these Coasts so far distant from your own Country. No, no, re∣ply'd Achamas, I can't be deceiv'd in my Knowledge of the Coasting of this Island: How many times have I come into your Port? I know it to the very least Rocks in it; the Port of Tyre is not more fresh in my Memory: See that Mountain there that advances, and that Rock that rises like a Tower! Don't you per∣ceive the Billows that break them∣selves against those other Rocks that seem to threaten the Sea by their fall? But don't you take notice of the Temple of Minerva, that cuts the Clouds? Look you, there's the House and Castle of your Father Ulysses. Oh, Achamas! reply'd Te∣lemachus,

I see on the contrary a re∣mote Coast over against me both clear and even; and I perceive a Town, but not Ithaca. Oh, ye Gods! Is it thus you mock poor Mortals? Whilest he was speaking these words, all on a sudden the Eyes of Achamas were clear'd; the Charm was ended, and he saw and knew the Shoar, perfectly what it was, and acknowledg'd his Error.

I am confident, Oh Telemachus! cry'd he, that some envious Deity has bewitch'd my Eyes: I thought I saw Ithaca; the true Prospect of it presented it self intirely to my view; but at that same moment it vanish'd like a Dream: I now see another City, and, doubtless, it is Salante, which Idomeneus flying from, Crete is building in Hesperia: I perceive rising Walls, which are not yet fi∣nish'd; and I see a Fort, which is not altogether fortify'd. Whilest Achamas was remarking the several Works newly carry'd on this grow∣ing

City, and Telemachus was de∣ploring his Unhappiness, the Wind that Neptune had rais'd carry'd 'em with full Sail into a safe Road, and just by the Port.

Mentor, who was neither igno∣rant of Neptune's Revenge, nor the cruel Artifice of Venus, cou'd not choose but laugh at the mistake of Achamas. When they were in this Road, said Mentor to Telemachus, Jupiter tries you, but will not de∣stroy you; and only tries you to shew you the way to Glory. Think on the Labours of Hercules. Let your Father's Actions be ever in your Mind. He who can't suffer has nothing of Courage. By your Patience and Fortitude, you will tire that cruel Fortune which takes delight to persecute you. I am less afraid, for your sake, of the rigo∣rous Treatment of Neptune, than I fear'd the flatt'ring Caresses of that Goddess which detain'd you in her Isle. What do we stay for? Let

us into the Port! These People are our Friends; we are come among the Greeks. Idomeneus, who has been himself ill treated by Fortune, will have pity on the Miserable. They presently enter'd the Port of Salante, where the Phenician Ves∣sel was receiv'd without any diffi∣culty; because the Phenicians have Peace and Commerce with the whole Universe. Telemachus, with admi∣ration, beheld this growing City, as it were a young Plant, which hav∣ing been nourish'd by the sweet Dew of the Night, in the Morning feels the Beams of the Sun which come to imbelish it; it grows, it opens its tender Buds, it extends its green Leaves, it blows its odorife∣rous Flowers with a thousand new Colours; every moment it presents it self to the Sight, a new Lustre is found on it; so flourish'd Idomene∣us's new City on the Sea's side: Each day, each hour it grows in magni∣ficence; and shew'd to Strangers afar off at Sea, new Ornaments of

Architecture which reach'd the very Skies. All the Shoar resounded with the cries of the Workmen, and the blows of Hammers; the Stones were hung up in the Air by Cranes with Ropes; all the Nobility en∣courag'd the People in their Work, from the very first peep of day; and the King, Idomeneus, himself giving Orders throughout all, made the Works advance with incredible Expedition.

The Phenician Vessel was hardly got into Port, e're the Cretans gave Telemachus and Mentor all the Tokens of a sincere Friendship: They post∣ed away to give Idomeneus notice of the Arrival of the Son of Ulysses. The Son of Ulysses! cry'd he, of Ulysses? The dear Friend of that wise and great Hero; by whom, at last, we have levell'd the lofty Walls of proud Troy even to the Ground! Bring him to me, that I may shew him how much I lov'd his Father. As soon as Telemachus was presented to him, said he to

him, with a sweet and smiling Countenance, Tho' no body shou'd have told me who you are, I am certain I shou'd have known you; you are Ulysses himself; see his very Eyes full of Fire, his stedy Aspect! See besides, his Air so cold and re∣serv'd, which cover'd so much Vi∣vacity and so many Graces. Look! Here's his obliging Smile too; his negligent Demean, his soft Speech, plain and insinuating, which per∣suaded without allowing time for Suspicion! Yes; you are the Son of Ulysses, but you shall be mine too; my dear Son! What Adventures brought you on these Coasts? Is it in search of your Father? Alas! I never heard from him: Cross Fate persecuted us both; he had the mis∣fortune of being driven from his Country, and I that of finding mine, fill'd with Horrors by the Hatred of the immortal Gods against me. Whilest Idomeneus spoke those words he loo'd fixedly upon Mentor,

as being no Stranger to his Face; tho' at the same time he was much perplex'd about his Name. In the mean time Telemachus answer'd him, with Tears in his Eyes; Oh! King, Pardon my Grief, which I cannot conceal from you, even at a time when I ought to be full of Joy and Gratitude for all your generous Fa∣vours to me. Your Sorrow for the loss of Ulysses, teaches me how deep∣ly I ought to be affected by my mis∣fortune in not finding my dear Fa∣ther; 'tis now a tedious while since I have been in search of him thro' all the known Seas: The angry Gods won't suffer me to hope, ei∣ther to see him again, or to return to Ithaca, where Penelope is daily tortur'd with a fruitless Desire of being freed from her troublesome Lovers.

I expected to have found you in the Isle of Crete; I there learnt your cruel Fate, but little thought of ever touching the Coast of Hesperia,

where you have founded a new Kingdom: But Fortune, who is pleas'd to sport with us Mortals, who makes me wander from Place to Place, and keeps me still from Ithaca, cast me at last upon your Shore; yet of all the Disasters she has expos'd me to, this I could bear with a contented Mind. For, tho' she drives me away from my Na∣tive Country, yet she brings me ac∣quainted with the wisest and most generous of all Kings. At these words Idomeneus gave Telemachus a kind Embrace; and having led him into his Palace, who is that wise old Man, said he to him, who ac∣companies you, for methinks I have seen him before: 'Tis Mentor, re∣ply'd Telemachus; Mentor, Ulysses's intimate Friend, who has taken care of me even from my Infancy, and who best can inform you how much I am beholden to him. Thereupon Idomeneus made towards Mentor, and shaking him by the hand told

him; You and I have seen one ano∣ther before: You may remember when you went over to Crete, and what good Advice you gave me; but at that time I was hurried away by the heat of Youth, and transport∣ed by the Enjoyment of sensual Pleasures; of that my Misfortunes only have been able to teach me Wisdom. Oh! that I had believed your Counsels; Oh! wise old Man! But I am full of wonder to find that Age has made no alteration in you since so many Years; your Face is still fresh and lively, and your Bo∣dy strait and vigorous, only your Hair is grown somewhat Hoary. Great King, answer'd Mentor, were I a Flatterer, I would tell you like∣wise that you still preserve that youthful Liveliness which smil'd in your Face at the Siege of Troy. But I had rather incurr your Displea∣sure, than speak against Truth; be∣sides, I find by your wise Discourse that you are averse to Flattery, and

that a Man may be sincere with you without running any Hazard: Wherefore I must freely own that you are so much alter'd, that I could scarce have known you again. I plainly see the cause of it, which is your long Misfortunes and Suffer∣ings; but the Wisdom you have ac∣quir'd makes you sufficient amends for what you have suffer'd; and a Man ought to be easie and uncon∣cern'd at the Wrinkles of his Face, whilest his Soul is inur'd to the Pra∣ctice of Virtue. Moreover, know, Oh! Idomeneus, that Kings always wear out faster than other Men: For in Adversity, both the Troubles of the Mind, and bodily Labours make them look Old before their Time: In Prosperity, the soft En∣joyments of an effeminate Life waste their Strength yet more than the Toils of War, and nothing is more hurtful than excess in Pleasure. This is the Reason why Kings, both in Peace and War, enjoy Pleasures, and

are expos'd to such Labours and Hardships as anticipate old Age; whereas a sober, moderate, and plain Life, free from Disquietudes and Passions, regular and laborious keeps all the Limbs of a wise Man in a vigorous Youthfulness, which without these Precautions, flies fast away upon the Wings of Time.

Idomeneus charm'd with Mentor's Discourse, had been longer atten∣tive to him, had they not come to remind him of a Sacrifice that he was to make to Jupiter: Telemachus and Mentor follow'd him surrounded by a great multitude of People, who with great earnestness and Curio∣sity gaz'd on these two Strangers: They said one to another, these two Men are very different; the young one has an Air admirable and love∣ly, beyond Expression; all the Charms of Youth and Beauty are every where dispers'd both over his whole Body; but this Beauty has nothing Languid nor Effeminate;

with this tender Flower of Youth, he appears vigorous, strong and in∣ur'd to Labour: But this other, tho far older, yet has lost nothing of his Strength; and tho his Mien is not so majestical, and his Coun∣tenance less pleasant, yet on a near∣er view, in his plainness may be seen the Marks of Wisdom and Virtue, with a surprising Gravity: When the Gods descended to con∣verse with Mortals on the Earth, undoubtedly they took Figures like these two strange Travellers.

By this time, they were arriv'd at the Temple of Jupiter, whom Idomeneus, who was the Offspring, had adorn'd with a great deal of Magnificence: He was inviron'd with a double Row of Pillars of Marble like Jasper; the Chapiters were of Silver; the Temple was all lin'd with Marble, with Bass-reliefs, which represented Jupiter trans∣form'd into a Bull, the Rape of Europa, and his Passage over the

Sea into Crete; they seem'd to re∣verence Jupiter, tho he was in a strange Form: Then the Wisdom and Birth of Minos was to be seen; who there appear'd in the heighth of old Age, dispensing Laws to his whole Island, which might make it for ever flourishing. There also Telemachus observ'd, the principal Adventures at the Siege of Troy, where Idomeneus had justly acquir'd the Glory of a great General. In the Representations of these Com∣bats Telemachus sought his Father, and found him taking away the Horses of Rhesus, whom Diomedes had just slain; and in another place contending with Ajax for the Arms of Achilles, before all the Commanders of the Greek Army; and at last their coming out of the fatal Horse to destroy the Lives of so many Trojans: In all these fa∣mous Actions Telemachus knew him, of which he had so often heard, and which Nestor himself had recounted

to him. Here Tears presently gush'd from his Eyes, he chang'd Colour, and Grief appear'd all over his Face: Idomeneus perceiv'd it, tho he turn'd aside to conceal his Trouble. Don't be asham'd, said Idomeneus to him, to let us see how much you are concern'd at the Glo∣ry and Misfortunes of your Father. In the mean while the People came in whole Crowds under the vast Portico's made thro' the double row of Columns which surrounded the Temple. There were two Com∣panies of young Boys and Girls, who sung Verses in Praise of that God who disperses the Thunder. These Children who were all cho∣sen out of the most Beautiful, had their long Hair hanging loose on their Shoulders; their Heads were Crown'd with Roses and Perfumes, and were all Cloath'd in White. Idomeneus offer'd an Hundred Bulls to beg a favourable Success in a War, which he had undertaken

against his Neighbours: The Blood of the Victims reak'd on every side, and was seen to stream over the Goblets of Gold and Silver. The old Man Theophanes, dear to the Gods, and Priest of the Temple, during the time of Sacrifice, cover'd his Head with one end of his purple Robe; then he consulted the En∣trails of the Victims, which were yet panting, after which, mount∣ing the sacred Tripos; O ye Gods! (cry'd he) what are then these Strangers, whom you have sent into these Parts? Without these, the War lately design'd wou'd be dreadful; and Salante wou'd be bu∣ry'd in Ruin, 'ere it were rais'd on its Foundations. I see a young He∣ro, whom Wisdom still conducts — No Mortal dare say more. — Here his Looks were wild, and his Eyes sparkl'd; and he seem'd to gaze on other Objects than those that were before him: His Face was all a-fire: He rag'd, and grew Di∣stracted;

his Hair stood an end, he foam'd at Mouth, and his lifted up Arms were immoveable: His Voice was stronger than any humane Voice whatever; he was out o' Breath, and cou'd not contain the Deity which transported him. O happy Idomeneus, cry'd he again, what do I see! What Misfortunes avoided! What soft Peace at Home! But what bloody Wars Abroad! What Victories! O Telemachus! Thy La∣bours exceed thy Father's. The haughty and fierce Enemy grovels in the Dust, under thy Sword; the brazen Gates and inaccessible Ram∣parts fall at thy Feet — O Great Goddess! That his Father — O Brave Youth, in time thou shalt see — Here his Speech fail'd him, and that Word clos'd his Mouth, and he continued in Spite of his Endeavours, in an amazing Silence. All the People were con∣geal'd with Fear: Idomeneus, all trembling, durst not bid him make

an end. Telemachus himself aston∣ish'd, cou'd hardly understand what he had heard; much ado he had to believe that so great Predictions. were made of him; Mentor alone was unastonish'd at the divine Spi∣rit. You understand, said he to Idomeneus, the purpose of the Gods; that against whatsoever Nation you shall lead your Forces, the Victory shall be yours; and that you shall own your good Success of your Arms to your Friend's Son: Be not Jealous therefore, but only make use of what the Gods now give you by his Means. Idomeneus, being not yet re∣cover'd out of his Amazement, in vain attempted to Speak; his Tongue re∣main'd immoveable. Says Telemachus to Mentor; So much promis'd Glory does not move me: But what can be the meaning of those Words, Thou shalt see again, Is it my Father or only Ithaca that I shall see? Alass! Why did he not make an end of his Prophecy? He left me more

perplex'd than I was before: Oh Ulysses! Oh my Father! Is it then possible I shall see you again! But I Flatter my self — Oh! cruel Oracle, thou takest Delight in Sporting with an unfortunate Man; one Word more, and I had reach'd the top of Happiness.

Says Mentor to him, Receive with Reverence what the Gods are pleas'd to reveal, and attempt not to dis∣cover what they intend to keep se∣cret: A rash Curiosity deserves to be confounded: 'Tis out of a su∣pream Goodness and Wisdom, that the Gods keep weak Mortals in dark Ignorance about their Fates. I own 'tis a great advantage to foresee what depends on us, in order to do it well; but 'tis every whit as advan∣tageous to be Ignorant of what lies not in our Power, but intirely de∣pends on Heaven's irreversible De∣crees. Telemachus, touch'd with these Words, contain'd himself, tho not without Reluctancy. As for

Idomeneus, having recover'd his sur∣prize, be begun to return great Jove Thanks for sending to him young Telemachus, and wise Mentor to make him victorious over his Enemies. And having made a magnificent Feast after the Sacrifice, he Spoke to the two Strangers in these Words.

I confess I was but little acquaint∣ed with the Art of Governing, when I return'd to Crete, after the Siege of Troy. You know, dear Friends, what Misfortunes hindred me from reigning over that great Island, since you assure me you were there af∣ter I left it. Yet I am too happy if the cruellest strokes of Fortune can serve to teach me to be Master of my Passions: I crost the Seas like a Fugitive, whom the aveng∣ing Gods and Men pursue: All my past Honours and Glory serv'd only to make my Fall the more ingnomi∣nious and insupportable: I sought a shelter for my houshold-Gods on this desart Coast, where I found

nothing but wild, uncultivated Lands, over-run with Thorns and Briars, cover'd with Trees as old as the Earth it self; and huge steep Rocks inaccessible to all but fierce Beasts, which harbour'd under them. Yet such was the Extremity to which I was reduc'd, that I was glad to enjoy, with a few Soldiers and Friends who had been willing to accompany me in my Misfortunes, that wild, savage Land, and make it my Country, having no hopes ever to see again that fortunate Island, whereof I was born King. Alass! said I to my self, what a Change is here! What a dreadful Example am I to Kings! What wholsome Instructions they can draw from my Miscarriages! They fancy there is nothing they ought to be afraid of because of their Elevation above the rest of Men: But oh! 'tis that very Elevation which ought to make them more afraid than others. I was dreaded by my Ene∣mies,

and belov'd by my Subjects; I Commanded over a powerful and warlike Nation; Fame had spread my Renown as far as the remotest Countries; I reign'd in a fruitful and delightful Island; an hundred Cities paid me a yearly Tribute out of their Riches; my People acknow∣ledg'd me to be the Off-spring of great Jupiter, and as I was born in their Country, they lov'd me as the Grand-Son of wise Minos, whose Laws make them so powerful and happy. What could be wanting to my Felicity, except the knowing how to use it with Moderation: But alass! my own Pride, and the Flattery of others, to which I listned but too much, have over-turn'd my Throne, and in the like manner will all Kings fall, who will give up themselves to their own Desires, and the deceitful Counsels of their Flat∣terers. In the Day-time I endea∣vour'd to put on a Countenance both smiling and full of Assurance,

in order to keep up the Courage of those who had follow'd me: Let us build, said I to them, a new Ci∣ty that will make us amends for all our Losses; we are surrounded by Nations, whose Example ought to animate us in this Undertaking; we behold Tarentum, which is rear∣ing up pretty near us, and 'tis Pha∣lantus, with his Lacedemonians, who possesses that new Kingdom; Phi∣loctctes builds another great City on the same Coast, to which he gave the Name of Petilia. Metapontus is likewise such another Colony; why then should we do less than those Strangers, who wander like us, since Fortune is no more cross to us than to them? Whilest with these and the like words, I endea∣vour'd to alleviate the Troubles of my Companions, I conceal'd a mor∣tal Grief in the bottom of my Heart; I felt some Comfort at the with∣drawing of the day, when in the gloomy Shade of silent Night, I

was at liberty to lament my wretch∣ed Fate; my Eyes became two Streams of continual Tears, and sweet Sleep had quite deserted my Bed: The next day I resum'd my Toils with unwearied eagerness, and that's the Reason, Oh! Mentor, you found me so much alter'd by Age. Idomeneus having thus given Telema∣chus and Mentor the Relation of all his Misfortunes, he desir'd their As∣sistance in the War wherein he was engag'd; I will, said he, take care that you are safely conducted to I∣thaca, as soon as the War is over; in the mean time I will send out Ships to the most distant Shoars to learn News of Ulysses; into what Place of the known World he may be cast, either by the stormy Winds or some angry Deity; I will bring him back from thence; may the Gods but grant that he be still alive! As for you, I will send you back in∣to your own Country in the best Ships that ever were built in the Isle

of Crete; they are made of Trees fell'd on Mount Ida, where great Jove was born; that sacred Wood can never perish in the Waves; the Winds and Rocks both fear and re∣verence it; and even Neptune, tho' never so angry, dares not to raise his fierce Billows against it: There∣fore be assur'd that you will return to Ithaca with ease and safety, and that no cross Deity shall be able to make you wander on so many Seas any more: The Passage to your own Island is short and easie; send away the Phenician Vessel that brought you hither, and think now on no∣thing but on the Honour you shall reap in settling Idomeneus in his new Kingdom, and making him amends for all his Losses. 'Tis by these Actions, Oh! Son of Ulysses, that you will be thought worthy of your Father; and tho' cruel Fate should have already confin'd him within the gloomy Kingdom of Pluto, yet all Greece shall have the Pleasure to find him again in you.

At these words Telemachus inter∣rupting Idomeneus, let us, said he, send away the Phenician Vessel: Why do we defer any longer to take up Arms, and attack your Enemies, who are now become ours? Since we were Victorious when we fought in Sicily for Acestes a Trojan, and an Enemy of Greece; can any one doubt but that we will shew a greater Ardour and Resolution, and be more favour'd by the Gods, when we fight for one of those Grecian He∣roes, who over-threw Troy, the Ci∣ty of Priamus?

Mentor, looking upon Telemachus with a serence and compos'd Counte∣nance, and perceiving that he burnt with a noble and eager Desire of Fighting, spoke thus to him: I am very glad, Oh! Son of Ulysses, to find in you so generous and com∣mendable a Passion for Glory; but remember that the great Renown your Father got amongst the Gre∣cians at the Siege of Troy, was only

by approving himself, the wisest and most moderate of them. Al∣tho' the fierce Achilles was both in∣vincible and invulnerable, altho' he carried Terrour and Destruction where-ever he fought, yet Achilles could not make himself Master of Troy; he fell before the Walls of that famous City, which triumph'd over the Murderer of Hector; but Ulysses, whose Valour was ever guided by Prudence, carried Fire and Sword amongst the Trojans, and 'tis to him the fall of those lofty Towers, which during ten Years, defied whole Greece, is entirely ow∣ing. As much as Minerva is above Mars, by so much a discreet and pro∣vident Valour surpasses a boisterous, rash and wild Courage: Therefore, let us, First, consider the Reasons and Circumstances of this War, which is to be carried on: I decline no Dangers whatsoever, but me∣thinks, Idomeneus, you ought to let us know, First, whether the War

you engage in be just; Secondly, against whom you wage it; and, lastly, whether your Forces be such, as you may reasonably hope to over∣come your Enemies. Idomeneus re∣ply'd: At our first landing on this Coast, we found in it a savage Peo∣ple who liv'd in the Woods, and fed upon what they kill'd in Hunt∣ing, and the Mast of Trees; they were frighted at the fight of our Ships and Arms, and fled to the Neighbouring Mountains; but the Soldiers being desirous to see the Country, as they were in pursuit of some Stags, they met with those fugitive Savages; thereupon the Leaders of those Savages told them: We have abondon'd the pleasant Sea Shore, and yielded it to you; we have nothing left but wild Mountains almost inaccessible, and it is but just you suffer us to live in them in Peace and Liberty; we have met you wandring and weaker than we, so that nothing could hin∣der

us from destroying you, and concealing even from your Compa∣nions the knowledge of your Mis∣fortunes; but we disdain to imbrue our Hands in the Blood of those who are our Fellow-Creatures. Go your ways; remember you are indebted for your Lives to our Sentiments of Humanity; and never forget that 'tis from a People whom you call rude and savage, that you receiv'd this Lesson of Generosity and Mode∣ration. Those of our Men, who were thus dismist by the Barbarians, return'd to the Camp, and related what had happen'd to them; our Soldiers were mov'd at it, and asham'd that Cretans should owe their Lives to a despicable Company of wild Men: Thereupon they went out a Hunting in greater Numbers than at first, and provided them∣selves with all manner of Arms: 'Twas not long before they met with the Savages, and fell upon them; the Fight was cruel and ob∣stinate;

the Darts flew on both sides as thick as Hail in a Storm. The Savages were at last forc'd to retire to their steep Mountains, where our Men durst not follow them. A little while after those People sent to me two of their wi∣sest old Men who came to sue for Peace, and brought Presents to me, which consisted in Skins of wild Beasts they had kill'd in Hunting, and several sorts of Fruit which the Country yields; having deliver'd their Presents, they addrest them∣selves to me in these words: Oh! King, thou seest we hold the Sword in one of our Hands, and an Olive∣branch in the other; (for they had both in their Hands) so that you may chuse either Peace or War: We confess we had rather Peace; and 'tis for that Reason we are not asham'd to yield to thee the pleasant Sea-Shore, where the Sun chears the Land with its warm Beams, and makes it produce so many sorts of

delicious Fruits; yet Peace is sweeter and pleasanter than all those Fruits; and therefore we retir'd to those high Mountains ever cover'd with Ice and Snow, where we never see either the Flowers of the Spring, or the rich Fruits of the Autumn. We have an abhorrence for that Bruta∣lity which, under the fair Names of Ambition and Honour, lays waste whole Provinces, and spills the Blood of Men who are all Brothers and Fellow-Creatures; if thou art Am∣bitious of that false Honour, we are so far from envying thee, that we rather pity thee, and beg the Gods to keep us from such a wild Fury. If Sciences, which the Grecians learn with so much study, and the Po∣liteness and Civility which they va∣lue themselves upon, inspire them with nothing but this detestable In∣justice, we think our selves too hap∣py in being depriv'd of those Ad∣vantages; we will pride in being Barbarians, as long as we are just,

human, faithful, disinterested, con∣tented with little, and despising that vain Nicety which multiplies our Wants; what we value most is Health, Frugality, Liberty, a sound and vigorous Body and Mind; the love of Virtue, the fear of the Gods, a kind Nature towards our Rela∣tions, a constant Affection to our Friends, Faithfulness and Honesty with every Body, Moderation in Prosperity, Constancy in adverse Fortune, a couragious Boldness in speaking the Truth at all times, and an abhorrence for Flattery: These are the People whom we offer to thee for Neighbours and Allies. If the angry Gods blind your Eyes so far as not to let you see your own Interest, and if thou refusest Peace, thou shalt find, but too late, that those People are most to be dreaded in War, who love Peace out of a Principle of Moderation.

While those old Men spoke thus to me, I could not keep my Eyes

from being fixt on them; they had long Beards; short hoary Hair; thick Eye-brows; quick and lively Eyes; a resolute Look and Counte∣nance; plain and ingenuous Man∣ners: The Furs they wore for Cloaths being ty'd negligently over their Shoulders, one might see their Arms more nervous and brawny than those of our Wrestlers. I made answer to those two Envoys, That I was inclin'd to Peace: We settled together by mutual Promise, seve∣ral Conditions, invoking all the Gods to be Witnesses of our Trea∣ty, and so I sent them back with Presents: But the Gods who drove me from the Kingdom of my Ance∣stors, were not yet weary of Per∣secuting me: Our Hunts-men, who could not be acquinted so soon with the Peace we had made, met the same day a great Company of those Barbarians, who attended their Ambassadors as they return'd from our Camp; they attack'd 'em with

great Fury, kill'd many of 'em, and pursued the rest into the Woods: Thus the War is kindled anew; for those Barbarians think they can∣not be safe in trusting either to our Promises or Oaths; they call to their Assistance the Locrians, Apulians, Lucanians, Brutians, those of Cro∣tona, Nevitta, and Brundusium. The Lucanians came with Chariots arm'd with sharp Sythes. The Apulians are every one of them cover'd with the Skin of some wild Beast which they have kill'd; they were in their Hands great wooden Clubs full of Knots, and tipp'd with Iron Spikes; they are almost as tall as Giants, and their Bodies become so strong and brawny by the laborious Exercises to which they inure themselves, that their very Looks are dreadful and terrifying. The Locrians, who are come from Greece, do still retain something of their Origin, and have more Humanity than the rest, but they add the exact Discipline of the

Grecian Troops to the fierceness and resolution of those Barbarians, and their hard way of living, which renders them invincible: They have long Swords, and a sort of light Bucklers made of twisted and woven Osiers, and cover'd with Skins. The Brutians are nimble-footed like Bucks or Stage; and when they run, one can scarce perceive that the ten∣derest Grass is foil'd by their Steps; they hardly leave any print of their Feet on the Sand; they rush on the sudden on their Foes, and disappear with the same rapidity. The Peo∣ple of Crotona are very skilful Ar∣chers; it is not common among the Grecians, to see ordinary Men know how to draw a Bow, as it is among the Crotonians; and if these would contend in our Games, they would certainly carry the Prizes. Their Arrows are steep'd in the Juice of some venomous Herbs, which are said to come from the Banks of A∣vernus, and whose Poison is mortal.

As for those of Nevitta, Messapia, and Brundusium, they are endued only with bodily Strenght, and a rude and untaught Valour. At the sight of their Enemies, they rend the Skies with hideous Shrieks; they are pretty good Slingers, and darken the Air with a Shower of Shot∣Stones; but they fight without or∣der, or minding Ranks. This, Oh! Mentor, is what you desir'd to know: You are now acquainted with the Origin of this War, and with our Enemies. As soon as Idomeneus had given them this Account, Telema∣chus being impatient to fight, thought there was no more to do than to take up Arms; but Mentor stop'd him a second time, and spoke thus to Idomeneus: What's the rea∣son that the Locrians, who are a People originally come from Greece, unite themselves with the Barbari∣ans against the Grecians? How comes it to pass that so many Greek Colo∣nies are in a flourishing Condition

on this Coast of Tamea, without being ingaged in the same Wars with you? You say, Oh! Idomeneus, the Gods are not yet weary of per∣secuting you; but, in my Opinion, they have not yet done instructing you: All those Misfortunes you have undergone, have not taught you yet what you ought to do to prevent a War. What you did your self relate concerning the Honesty of those Barbarians, is enough to shew that you might have liv'd in Peace with them; but Pride and Haugh∣tiness kindle the most dengerous Wars: You might have given them Hostages, and taken some of theirs; and it would have been an easie matter for you to have sent some of your Captains along with their Ambassadors to conduct them safe home. Nay, since the renewing of this War, you ought to have paci∣fied them, by letting them know that they were attack'd through ig∣norance of the Treaty that was

concluded with them; you should have offer'd them all the Security they could possibly demand, and ap∣point rigorous Punishments for those among your Subjects, who should break the Alliance. But, pray, what hapned since the beginning of this new War?

I thought, answer'd Idomeneus, it would have been a base Submission in us to court those Barbarians, who gather'd in haste all those amongst them who were able to bear Arms, and implor'd the Assistance of all the Neighbouring Nations, to whom they made us odious. Thereupon I thought it most advantageous for our Security, to make our selves Masters of certain narrow Passages in the Mountains which the Enemy kept, which having effected with∣out difficulty, we by that means put our selves in a Condition of anoying and harasing those Barba∣rians. I have caus'd strong Towers to be built on those Defiles, from

whence our Men may over-whelm with their Darts all those among the Enemy, who shall attempt to come down from the Mountains in∣to our Country; and at the same time, by the favour of these Towers we may make Incursions into their Country, and lay their chief Settle∣ments waste whenever we please. Thus, with Forces much inferiour, we are able to resist that innumera∣ble Multitude of Foes that surround us. Now things have been carried to that extremity, that it would be a difficult matter to treat of Peace with them; for we cannot yield those Towers to them, without lay∣ing our selves open to their Inroads, and they look upon them as Cita∣dels we have raised to bring them into slavery. Mentor reply'd: Oh! Idomeneus, you shew your self to be a wise King, in that you are wil∣ling to hear undisguis'd Truth; you are not like those weak Men who are afraid of seeing it, and through

their want of Resolution, instead of mending their Faults, only employ their Authority in maintaining what they have done amiss. Know, then that this barbarous People gave you an excellent Lesson, when they came to you for Peace. Was it out of Weakness they sued for it? Did they want Courage or Assistance to oppose you? You plainly see they did not, since they are so inur'd to War, and supported by so many dreadful Neighbours: Why did not you imitate their Moderation? But a mistaken Shame, and a false Honour have cast you into this Mis∣fortune. You were afraid of mak∣ing the Enemy too haughty, but you did not fear the making of them too powerful by uniting so many confederate Nations against you, by your proud and unjust Carriage. What are those Towers, of which you boast so much, good for, unless it be to create Jealousies among your Neighbours, and reducing them to

the Necessity either of destroying you or themselves, in order to avoid the slavery with which you seem to threaten them? You rear'd up those Towers for your Security only, and 'tis by those Towers you have brought your self into an imminent Danger. The surest and firmest Bul∣wark of a State is Justice, Modera∣tion, Honesty, Plain-dealing, and the Assurance your Neighbours have that you will never incroach upon their Lands. The strongest Walls may fall through a thousand unexpected Accidents; the Fortune of War is capricious and inconstant, but the Love and Confidence of your Neighbours, who have experienc'd your Moderation, renders your State invincible, and deters those Neigh∣bours from attacking it. Nay, sup∣pose an unjust Neighbour should at∣tack it, all the rest who are concern'd in its Safety, take up Arms present∣ly for its Defence: The Support of so many Nations, who might have

found their true Interest in main∣taining yours, would have made you much more powerful than those Towers, which render your Mis∣fortunes almost past Remedy: Had you taken care at first to prevent the Jealousie and Suspicions of all your Neighbours, your new-built City would flourish in a happy Tranquil∣lity, and you would have made your self Umpire of Hesperia. But now let us consider which way for the future you can rectifie your past Erros; you told me before that there are on this Coast several Greek Colonies; those People must needs be dispos'd to serve you; for sure they have not forgot either the great Name of Minos, Son of mighty Jove, or your Toils before the Walls of Troy, where you did so often sig∣nalize your self amongst the Grecian Princes, for the common Cause of all Greece. Why do you not endea∣vour to bring those Colonies over to your Party?

They are all resolv'd to stand Neu∣ter, reply'd Idomeneus; not but that they were somewhat inclin'd to as∣sist me, but the great Noise this City made through all the Regions about us, deterr'd them from it. Those Grecians, as well as the rest, were afraid we had some design up∣on their Liberty; they thought that having subdu'd the barbarous Moun∣taineers, our Ambition would lead us yet farther: In short, they are all against us; those very People who declare not for an open War, yet wish to see us humbled, and the Jealousie of others keeps us from having any Ally.

Oh! strange Extremity! reply'd Mentor: Whilest you endeabour to appear powerful, you destroy your own Power; and whilest abroad you are the Object both of the Fear and Hatred of your Neighbours, you exhaust your self at home by the vast Expences you must needs be at to carry on the War. Oh!

unhappy, doubly unhappy, Idome∣neus, whom even this Misfortune has made but half-wise! Do you still want a second Fall to teach you how to foresee the Dangers which threaten the greatest Kings? How∣ever, trust to my Management, and only let me know which are those Greek Cities, that refuse to enter in∣to your Alliance.

The Chief of them, answer'd Idomeneus, is the City of Tarentum; 'tis now three Years since Phalantus laid the Foundation of it, having gather'd in Cremona a vast Number of young Men, born of Women who had forgot their absent Hus∣bands during the Siege of Troy. When the Men came home, their Wives endeavour'd to pacifie them, by disowning the Faults they had committed in their absence. These numerous Youths born out of Wed∣lock, knowing neither Father nor Mother, abandon'd themselves to an unbounded Licentiousness; but the

severity of the Laws having curb'd their Disorders, they unanimously submitted to Phalantus, a bold, dauntless and ambitious Leader, who by subtle Insinuations knew how to master their Affections. He came to this Shore with those young Laco∣nians, who have made of Tarentum a second Lacedemon. On-the other side, Philocletes, who reap'd so much Glory at the Siege of Troy, whither he carried Hercules's Arrows, has raised on this Neighbourhood the Walls of Petelia, a City which tho' less powerful than Tarentum, is yet more wisely govern'd. Lastly, we have near us the City of Metapontus, which the wise Nestor founded with his Pilians.

What! reply'd Mentor, is Nestor in Hesperia, and cou'd not you en∣gage him in your Interest? Nestor who saw you so often fight against the Trojans, and who profess'd a Friendship for you? I lost that Friend, answer'd Idomeneus, by the

Artifice of those People, who are barbarous only in Name; for they were so cunning, as to persuade him, that I design'd to make my self ma∣ster of all Hesperia. We will unde∣ceive him, answer'd Mentor: Tele∣machus saw him at Pilos before he came to settle his Colony in this Country, and before we undertook our long Voyages in quest of Vlys∣ses; undoubtedly he will still re∣member that great Hero, and the Marks of Tenderness and Affection he gave his Son Telemachus: But the chief Business is to remove his Di∣strust. Those Suspicions you creat∣ed in the Minds of all your Neigh∣bours, have been the occasion of this War, and the only way to put a stop to it, is to dissipate those vain Fears: Once more leave all to my Conduct.

At these words, Idomeneus em∣bracing Mentor, felt a shivering mixt with Tenderness, and remain'd Speechless for a while. At last, with

a broken Voice, he utter'd these words: Oh! wise old Man, whom the Gods have sent hither to redress all my Errors; I confess, I would have been angry with any other Mortal that durst be so free with me as you have been: I own you are the only Man that could prevail with me to make me sue for Peace; I was resolv'd either to die, or over∣come all my Enemies, but it is rea∣sonable to believe your wise Coun∣sels, rather than my Passion. Oh! Telemachus, how happy you are in having a Guide, that will never suf∣fer you to go astray! Mentor, you may do whatever you think fit; all the Wisdom of the Gods is in you; Minerva her self could not give more wholsome Advice: Go, promise, and give any thing that is in my Power; conclude a Treaty upon what Terms you please; Idomeneus will ratifie all you do.

Whilest they were thus discours∣ing together, there was heard on

the sudden a confus'd Noise of Cha∣riots, neighing of Horses, hideous Shrieks and Howlings of Men, and loud Trumpets which fill'd the Air with martial Clangors: The gene∣ral Cry is, The Enemy are come; they have gone a great way about to avoid the narrow Passages guard∣ed by Towers; here they are, rea∣dy to besiege Salanta. The old Men and the Women are under a deep Consternation: Alas! said they, why did we forsake our dear Coun∣try, the fruitful Isle of Crete, and follow an unhappy Prince through so many Seas, to founda a City which is now going to be destroy'd and de∣vour'd by Flames like Troy? They saw from the Top of their new∣rais'd Walls, the Head-Pieces and Shields of the Enemy shine with so much brightness, that their Eyes were dazled with it; they saw like∣wise the bristling Pikes which cc∣ver'd the Ground as thick as a plen∣tiful Harvest which Ceres ripens in

Sicily during the scorching heat of Summer, to recompence the Labour of the Husband-man. And now they perceiv'd the Chariots arm'd with sharp Sythes, and easily dis∣cern'd the several Nations that made up their Army. Mentor, the better to discover them, went up to the Top of a high Tower, whither Ido∣meneus and Telemachus soon follow'd him. He was hardly come there, when he espy'd Philoctetes on one side, and Nestor with his Son Pisis∣trates on the otehr; for Nestor was easily distinguish'd by his venera∣ble old Age. What! cry'd Mentor, you thought, Oh! Idomeneus, that Philoctetes and Nestor would be con∣tented to remain Neuter, but now you see they have taken up Arms against you; and if I am not mista∣ken, the other Troops which march in such good order, and with so fierce a Look, are a Body of Lace∣demonians commanded by Phalantus; all are against you; you have made

all your Neighbours your Enemies, tho' against your Will.

Having thus said, Mentor comes down in haste from the Top of that Tower, runs to one of the City∣Gates towards which the Enemy were advancing, and commands it to be opened, whilest Idomeneus, sur∣priz'd with the noble Majesty which accompanies all he does, dares not so much as to ask him what he means to do. Mentor beckens with his hand, that no Body should follow him; then makes toward the Enemy, who wondered to see a single Man com∣ing to them; shews them afar off an Olive Branch, as a sign of Peace; and being come so near them, that he might convenienly be heard, he requir'd them to assemble all the Captains; who being met in an in∣stant, he thus spoke to 'em.

Oh! generous Men, assembled out of so many Nations which flou∣rish in rich Hesperia: I know 'tis the common Interest of your Li∣berty

that summon'd you together to this Place; I do highly com∣mend your Zeal, but suffer me to tell you an easie way to preserve the Liberty and Honour of all your several Nations without spilling hu∣man Blood. Oh! Nestor, Oh! wise Nestor, whom I perceive in this As∣sembly! You are not ignorant how fatal War is even to those who un∣dertake it with Justice, and under the Protection of the Gods; War is the greatest Evil with which the Gods afflict Mankind; you can ne∣ver forget how much the Greeks have suffer'd during ten Years be∣fore unhappy Troy. How many Divisions have they seen among their Chiefs? What Caprices of Fortune have they been expos'd to? How many of them have fallen by Hector's Sword? What a desolation has been occasion'd in the most pow∣erful and flourishing Cities upon ac∣count of the War, by the long ab∣sence of their Kings? At their re∣turn

home, some were cast away, and others met a fatal Death in the very Embrace of their Consorts. Oh! Inhabitants of Hesperia, I wish the Gods may never grant you so fatal a Victory: I own, Troy is re∣duc'd to Ashes; but it were better for the Grecians, if she was still in her full Glory, and if base Paris should still gratifie his infamous Love with Helena. Oh! Philoctetes, you, who have been so long unhappy, and abandon'd in the Isle of Lemnos, are not you afraid of meeting with the like Disasters in another War? I know the People of Laconia have felt likewise the Miseries occasion'd by the tedious absence of the Princes, Captains and Soldiers who went against the Trojans. Oh! Grecians, you, who came to Hesperia, your coming hither was only a sequel of the Misfortunes which attended the Trojan War.

The End of the Second Volume.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Meta.
• * 1.2

  Ghost.