And stept upon the galley silver-oared,
And since hath kept thine Ithacensian halls?
Then when the hateful Helen fled to Troy
With Paris, and the Argive chieftains sailed
Then ships to Aulis, I would have thee go—
Presaging fame, and power, and spoils of war.
So ten years passed; meanwhile I reared thy son
To know his father’s wisdom, and, apart
Among my maidens, wove the yellow wool.
But then, returning one by one, they came,—