Our fearful hearts with thoughts of them we fed,
Far-labouring o’er the loosely-driving main.[n55]
And doubtless they, if yet live breath they breathe,
Deem so of us, as we must fear of them,
That they have perished. But I hope the best.
And first and chief expect ye the return
Of Menelaus. If the sun’s blest ray
Yet looks on him, where he beholds the day
By Jove’s devising,[n56] not yet willing wholly
To uproot the race of Atreus, hope may be